11- LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - EVIL PERSONIFIED - SECTION 22

   

Lady Sejon had of course been utterly delighted to learn of Magnian’s elevation in status. She was about to self-congratulate herself for having also narrowly escaped the dangerous predicament that had befallen Enqui Rimeng and prince Herleif, when her maidservant Areana had just then quite perturbed, burst into the room to present her Ladyship with a most curious, sealed letter marked urgent, specifically addressed to Her Ladyship Sejon, which someone had left without being seen, on the gemstone inlaid, pink commode at the end of the foyer (hallway).

01- D- THE LETTER AND AREANA

With inexplicable fear gripping her heart, Lady Sejon hastily broke open the seal and began reading the contents of the letter. Her brows knit when she read the incriminating lines, enunciating her actual part in the conspiracy to discredit prince Herleif, the precise details of planting of the penknife in the scroll, as well, her complicity (involvement) in the more grievous murder plot of the Royal Tutor Worren Youkup, after he had threatened to confess everything to Sovereign. The specific timing of the letter's delivery, and the stark, graphic minutiae (finer points) in the letter sent her heart palpitating wildly. Halfway through reading it, Lady Sejon’s face had turned completely ashen as she was shocked to the core; her head began to swim, her mouth fell agape, and the threatening letter simply dropped to the floor.   

Areana instantly scooped up the letter and spontaneously handed it back to Her Ladyship's trembling hand; she then with a concerned, puzzled look, enquired, "Is everything all right, Milady?” for never had she seen Sejon losing her composure like this.    

 Sejon meanwhile, had collapsed into the nearest seat until; getting a grip on her senses (herself) once more; she summarily dismissed all the attendants, save for Areana, from the room. She questioned her repeatedly, to learn how she had come by the letter. Had she noticed anything unusual, anything at all? Poor girl was mortified (petrified). She really had not noted anything strange or seen anyone suspicious. She was reduced to tears being so heatedly and wrathfully drilled. The other attendants had one time or other had faced her Ladyship’s terrible, fiery temper and suffered her subsequent wrath; therefore, despite their innate concerns for the much-beloved Areana, they dared not poke their heads into the room, without being summoned first. Better to stay away, till her Ladyship’s temper had cooled.    

In the end Sejon, totally frustrated, had irately dismissed Areana.

02  HER LADYSHIP SEJON C

Alone in the room, Sejon forced herself to re-read the letter, this time to the (bitter) end; she was surprised how such a courteous writing could carry that amount of, veiled and copious, malevolent bullying (intimidation, pressure). As Sejon mulled over the cited secrets in the letter that were, previously known only to herself and Nijel, gradually suspicion reared its ugly head and anger supplanted it. When she reached the reference to Nijel Pinng being detained by their competent men and therefore, should not be searched for, this time Sejon shook her head in disbelief. “This can't be!” For only moments before she had sent Nijel into her adjoining private bedroom on an errand. There being no other passage from there except through this very anteroom, by rights, Nijel should still be in there.

She bolted to her feet and hastened to the bedroom to in fury, confront (question) her half-sister and demand an explanation. Upon entering the room her eyes swiftly, twice swept the whole perimeter for any sign of Nijel, before her worst fears were realized; clearly, her half-sister, her personal aid Nijel was absent from the room. The toiletries she had sent Nijel to put back in their proper place were chaotically strewn on the carpet and both her vanity and chair were overturned. Suddenly Sejon’s attention was drawn to the tall curtains which the gentle breeze had just then stirred, letting in the golden rays of the hot midday sun. The window had been closed when Sejon had left the room. Then like fleeting hope itself the streaming spurt of light was extinguished as the fabric fell back into place. Ignoring the throbbing pain (pressure) that had just then manifested at both of her temples and was quickly developing into a terrible headache, Sejon with iron will, pushed all those worrisome thoughts aside and called out to Nijel. She same time began searching for her in earnest: she swiftly pulled aside tall curtains that could conceal a person or persons, searched behind tall screens, looked under the bed, then proceeded to look inside, around, under and behind the tall closets and big chests. She searched behind the colossal bed’s headboard, under the heavy quilts. Still nothing, nothing, nothing! All the while she had told herself that this was nothing more than an elaborate hoax… one of Nijel's practical jokes. She was out to frighten her; sort of, settling of scores for her last prank. Sejon's mind could not, would not conceive the contradictory outcome; nor would she accept the fearful concept and dire repercussions, of her being extorted. But considering the precise Information, gradually, she inwardly queried whether it could have been acquired, through force or, (perhaps) a willing participant, half- sister Nijel.  

No, that was not it at all! Sejon (out of fear) vehemently rejected that notion; for lately, ever since she had confirmed the truth about Nijel’s parentage, she had been most attentive and generous to Nijel. Furthermore, she had (Sejon had) ceased cursing and berating her for her tardiness. Nijel had no cause therefore, to hate her; besides which, their shared kinship bond could not be so easily superseded (supplanted), whatever the reason or threat.

03- NIJEL PINNG (1)

It is a lie, Sejon again pursed her lips and adamantly (obstinately) shook her head to purge those unwelcome thoughts that’d once more intruded into her brain. No; she was hiding somewhere there, the wilful, know it all tart; she was concealed somewhere specifically clever… But where, where in blazes could she be cloaked? Sejon snorted, remembering the time Nijel had once jested about growing wings and flying away. Surely, she had not done that. Sejon grimaced wryly at the ridiculousness of that desperate and hopeful thought.    

After seven more fruitless moments of increasingly frantic searching however, Sejon stood sullenly before the open window with the curtains now fully drawn, gazing blankly at the precipitous drop, oblivious to the heat of the sun on her face smarting her pallid cheeks. She could no longer deny the stark reality of Nijel’s abduction, nor dismiss the now presumed act of disloyalty and therefore, her betrayal.   

Eventually the mounting pain in her temples forced Sejon to draw away from the window and return to lie languidly on her bed, fully dressed, not even caring to remove her constricting slippers. In defiance of her will however, her mind still reeled (spun) with accusations and flashbacks, allowing her no respite. She groaned and buried her anxious (stressed) face in the plush pillow; steady flow of her flustered (anxious) tears soaked the linen and oddly enough, the moisture offered her cool comfort. Then after a time, her eyelids dropped.   

                                                                             …   

   

A buffeting (banging) sound at outside abruptly woke her and with a start she sat up. Her bleary eyes looked around at first, not grasping where she was; then, when her sharpened focus again surveyed the room, she noted how the sun's rays had receded away from the curtains, quietly announcing the arrival of the late afternoon. She nervously bit the corner of her lower lip thinking that she must have blacked out for at least two hours. When her gaze presently focused on the overturned vanity and chair in the far corner, the telltale signs of trouble swiftly brought back to her mind the contents of the extortion letter and filled her heart anew with intense fear and trepidation.   

Nijel’s disappearance, combined with those precise written facts… had Nijel collaborated with them all along, or had the information been extracted out of her via torture, after her abduction? Was there really an abduction? Sejon’s eyebrows again knit. There was no real sign of struggle in the room, not really. Besides which, she could have quietly overturned those light pieces herself to give that impression and then quietly slipped away, while she (Sejon) was reading that cursed letter.     

Sejon abruptly just then recollected angrily how she had given Nijel certain liberties lately, allowing her to come and go as she pleased; hence, the fault was hers (Sejon’s) for this generous leeway. Wallowing in self-recrimination, Sejon cupped her burning cheeks in her hands: Oh, what a fool she had been to place her trust in her half-sister Nijel! She had only herself to blame for this trouble, it was her own cursed naiveté. When will she ever learn not to trust anyone, particularly her own kin, especially in this den of wolves! Consequently, anger swelled in her heart, and it grew and grew, rising to the point of an unadulterated, seething rage. Sejon by then had been absolutely convinced that she had been manipulated and methodically, heartlessly, betrayed by her half-sister who had the backing of at least, two of her ardent nemeses; and so, inwardly she cursed the day she had first laid eyes on Nijel!    

How dare she collude with them …! How dare they threaten her!    

Sejon’s gaze stayed five more seconds on the threatening words in the letter instructing her not to search for Nijel Pinng. Her fury already supplanted by a determined course of revenge on Nijel and her presumed co-conspirators, she clenched her fists and simply shook her head, knowing in this she must act to the contrary, as well, produce a believable justification for her maidservant's prolonged absence. The last thing she wanted was for idle gossip to reach the ears of Zakhertan; meanwhile, she would force Nijel into hiding in earnest and, if the fiend half- sister ever mustered the courage, the nerve to re-appear, then…!    

Her thoughts abruptly turning to Areana, one who had found the letter, Sejon nodded, having decided on the only recourse (option) she felt was left open to her. Then, after summarily disposing the letter in the fireplace of the adjoining antechamber, she shouted in an angry voice for her servants to come in, setting the plan in motion. That late afternoon and well into the small hours of the evening, she had scattered them about in search of Nijel; they tirelessly scoured every inch of her Royal residence, but expectantly, could not find any trace of Nijel Pinng anywhere. It was as though the ground had opened and swallowed her whole.  

                                                                                     ~

Following day, the intense search had resumed at crack of dawn, and by noon, it had discreetly been extended to encapsulate (capture) the outer perimeter of the South Palace. In all that time Sejon constrained to play the part of a benevolent being, had displayed as deep a concern for her missing servant as was expected of one in her position; but when there was still no sign of NIjel, Sejon then subtly voiced her fears with self-recriminations on her tongue that, Nijel must have, for personal reasons, run away or worse still, she might have ended her life in some deep well. Lady Sejon then shed few more crocodile tears (an insincere show of grief) and reluctantly called off the search. Looking downtrodden and depressed, she dismissed all her attendants and took refuge in the cool serenity of her bedchamber. She had drawn the bed curtains aside and was about to lie down for an hour’s respite, when she sighted yet another sealed note placed squarely upon her embroidered pillow. Seeing red, she snatched the casing (envelope) and tore it open; what she read set her heart palpitating in angst and from that moment on, she was permanently robbed of any notion (vestige, sense) of being safe.  

Later still, in utter disbelief she had read and re-read the lines: "Commanding performance my dear; but by your reckless action, you have also condemned her to death. Be warned, any more such foolish acts in future, shall be met with far graver repercussions to you.”

"My dear?... Who would dare address her so brazenly!  

04- ladyship SEJON PONDERING

It was little comfort to her, that the special footnote at the bottom of the letter had reassured her, if she cooperated fully, her indiscretions would remain a secret (undisclosed), perhaps indefinitely.

Meanwhile, the last line before that, the felicitous wishes that she continues to enjoy her newly elevated status, fell hollow against the acerbic baldness of the subsequent statement, "Nothing more is required of you at this time".    

She had vented her rage by ripping the letter to shreds and then feeding the compressed smithereens to the flames; after which she had stood in the center of the room looking at everything around her with searing contempt yet feeling suddenly most vulnerable and exposed at the same time. The sudden urge to destroy everything within her sight and to reduce it all to ashes, just like the letter had robbed her of her aspirations, afresh swelled up in her chest. But if she were to do that, how could she (plausibly) explain her erratic and destructive temper-tantrum to Zakhertan Yozdek when the news of it, invariably reached his ears. As it was, she already dreaded having to weather the unpleasant speculation from certain quarters, about the disappearance of Nijel. She dreaded also that the impending, future salvo (barrage) of questions that she might be hard pressed to answer, despite the regular frequency of these sorts of events, if Nijel’s corpse was ever to be suddenly manifest.    

“No,” Sejon looked out the window and shook her head, vehemently denying this probability. This was nothing more than an idle threat, for Nijel being kept alive and utilized as a leverage, would be far more beneficial to the mastermind, villainous abductor.     

Sejon nevertheless felt terribly stifled, her lungs desperately needing oxygen (fresh air) she moved to the adjacent antechamber and went out onto the balcony to stand there sullenly by the ornate iron balustrade. She absently gazed at the burning disk of the setting sun, as it lit up the sky with the colors reflecting her inner rage. For a long while Sejon stood perfectly still, her throat constricted, her mind beset with horrific images of the future's dreaded dour (bleak) prospects, her heart meanwhile gripped by the inexplicable (perplexing) fear and pounding wildly in her chest. In the short span, her self-assured world had been shaken to the core. She now inwardly squirmed like a trapped animal, in an albeit gilded cage, knowing that from then on, she would be existing in a state of incessant anxiety, her every action constrained and dictated, her ambitions seriously curtailed, being subjected to the whims of yet another tormentor, besides Sovereign Zakhertan.    

Providence compounding her apprehensions, an edict (from His Royal Highness Zakhertan Yozdek), was announced just then, commanding Sejon to ready herself within the hour for that night’s impending royal visit (favor).    

 

                                                                                             ~

 

(END OF SECTION 22)

 11- LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - EVIL PERSONIFIED - SECTION 14

Qarzten Caimund’s shrewd policy of routinely checking beyond the official records of everyone, who had entered government service in Capital Channing, had yet again proven fruitful. Especially since, his hand-picked expert team in no time at all had uncovered lost bits of interesting facts about Nijel Pinng; that, an astute Censorate official had incidentally, purely by accident discovered, just before his suspicious death from a sudden stomach ailment (rupture):  that Nijel Pinng was the illegitimate half-sister to Lady Sejon. 

 

01- KENON RIEN

On further inquiry Qarzten Caimund had found the circumstances of Nijel’s life unfurling like the plot of a lowest currency denomination, a marketplace performance (play):

Sejon's aristocratic, philandering father Kenon Rien, had once passed through Moulon Province and result of one nights’ unbridled passion, with one of that region's rare beauties an innocent young girl named Arnora, he had begotten (produced, precipitated) the illegitimate twin offsprings.

 

02- ARNORA (14)

As the beauty Arnora was, unfortunately so far below Kenon's station/class, instead of doing the honourable thing, Kenon had through intimidation (bullying, strongarming) secured the mayor’s (village burgomaster’s) and her parents’ silence and instead arranged, well before her pregnancy showed, for her to be hastily married off to an aged but respectable Esquire Niet Wanner. The Esquire’s young wife had recently passed away because of a fever, leaving behind a wailing infant girl, which was Sejon. Such things did happen in the remote villages.

At the time, the Esquire Niet Wanner was in his mid fifties, and Arnora barely eighteen years old. Despite the age difference, Esquire Niet was a gentle soul and so treated his new bride Arnora with gentle respect, tolerance, and adoration.

 

In this blissful co-existence, laughter, and music once more permeated through the halls of Esquire Niet Wanner’s modest size, three story-mansion (villa); and typically, during this harmonious period Sejon experienced the unconditional love from her stepmother Arnora- alas, it was not to last!

After the nine month’s pregnancy, Arnora had opportunely expired from a complication of a difficult birthing. The case of her sudden, unexpected demise, was expediently covered up (without the knowledge of Esquire Niet Wanner); this, with secretly dispensed generous bribes from the Rien Clan, therefore, permanently silencing the attending physician, the mayor, and the other pertinent (relevant) local officials.

 

03- ESQUIRE NIET WANNER - JP

Esquire Niet Wanner, meanwhile, was utterly devastated by this terrible loss, for he had from the first, been besotted (love-struck, smitten) with his enchantingly beautiful young wife; now, considering himself unlucky or jinxed, he swore never to wed again.

Consequently, the three infants, Sejon and the twins were thus placed in the care of a wet-nurse Luse, who had providentially (conveniently, luckily), when the old nanny suddenly succumbed to an accident, by falling down from a flight of stairs and breaking her neck, in Esquire Wanner’s household: At that juncture, Luse had showed up seeking employment as a wet-nurse.

Luse, claimed her Scholar husband, she, and their seven-week-old infant son, had just happened to have arrived at Moulon Province; unfortunately, result of a boating accident, she had lost them both. Furthermore, she had no other family in this region, she was now stranded here, left all alone to fend for herself. In truth, Luse had been secretly handpicked by Kenon, and furnished with documentation this background-story, to keep an eye on what he deemed was his property, till more apt measures could be implemented.

 

04- WET-NURSE LUSE

Qarzten’s men had also uncovered, that Arnora had in fact, as Qarzten Caimund had suspected, been murdered on Lord Kenon's implicit order; after her father Tom Raygard, in his desperation, had attempted to, unsuccessfully, extort funds from Kenon Rien.

As consequence of heavy flooding that year, his crops had failed miserably and he stood on the brink of ruin; more importantly, Tom Raygard had lacked the essential funds for the medical care that was required to preserve his wife’ life. Farmer Tom, as he was known to most, was a decent sort but was forced to this despondent (extreme) measure.

Tom Raygard in his unrelenting pursuit of justice for his  deceased daughter Arnora, meanwhile, anticipating Kenon’s diabolical aim, had just made up his mind to confess all about the unlawful coercing which had forced him and Arnora to accede to the demands of  Kenon Rien and to warn Esquire Niet Wanner of the more current hidden threat from Rien Clan, pertaining to his infant twins.  Before he could act on this however, his aim had been abruptly, promptly thwarted (foiled, terminated); when during the violent, stormy night, a lightening struck the roof of his homestead, setting the structure completely ablaze. The ensuing (resultant) fire had gutted the decade old, partly decrepit two-story wooden farmhouse within seconds and, everyone previously tugged in their beds on the second story (floor, level) being unable to get to safety, had perished.

 

05- TOM RAYGARD -JP

There had been two or three mutely (wordlessly, murmured) raised, though quickly supressed queries (questions) about the spread of the fire being far too rapid; thus, feasibly precipitated by intentionally (purposely) placed tinder or a flare, it had unfortunately, tragically begotten multiple fatality.

Definitely one irksome speculation, in fervent whispers, had persisted; this,  founded on  an offhand remark, an accusation, from a bold constable- that besides the conflagration (inferno) caused by the lightening at the rooftop, there was also, though beyond coup (reduced to ashes, embers) scant evidence (trace) of strategically placed kindling that had proliferated (burgeoned) the seriousness of devastation from above and below.

Afterwards, these annoying inklings (whispers, notions) too were checked; particularly since the ultimate result had conveniently (for the aristocrat Rien Clan,) tied up the reminder loose ends. The matter was expediently wrapped up and filed away as consequence of natural disaster; this, so as not to impede (hinder, hamper) Kenon Rien’s future political ambitions.

Sejon, however, was soon to be orphaned herself as the Esquire Niet Wanner, a week before his suicide, had acquired an insurance policy with an efficient, fearsome organization covertly known as the Brotherhood of Kozurs. The powerful federation (association, alliance) that had operating members, even at the farthest reaches of the Wenjenkun Empire, for a minimal cost, discreetly (prudently) addressed without fail, extremely difficult and all outstanding injustices. No one, however powerful, could escape their deadly talons; two days hence, the invincible (indomitable) Kozur assassins sent the aristocrat Kenon Rien to accompany the Esquire in death, but on an ignominious journey, straight to Hell!

The twins, meanwhile, because Esquire Niet Wanner’s had overlooked this eventuality, had been successfully secreted away (abducted), the moment of Niet’s demise; this order was issued directly from the top echelon of the Rien Clan, which considered the twins, akin Kenon Rien, as Clan ‘property.

Subsequently, twins were separated; the fate of the male child was still a mystery, the girl however, had been successfully traced by Qarzten Caimund’s competent men, to the household of a Magistrate Ronian Keru in Moulon Province, now under the suzerainty of Lord Shouzi Yozdek.

 

06- MAGISTRATE RONIAN  KERU OF MOULON PROVINCE

Qarzten  Caimund had long suspected this region (the Moulon Province), to be a hotbed of insurgency, as well as criminal (illegal) activity, though regrettably, he had lacked solid evidence to indict His Lordship Shouzi Yozdek of a serious breach or a treason. As Ronian Keru was on his concise list of conspirators, Qarzten Caimund had been keeping Nijel under surveillance way before she had showed up in the Capital.

About a month ago, Qarzten’s patience had finally (paid off) been rewarded when his agents had intercepted a letter from her former master who, despite his leave of absence for health reasons, was still the pawn of his Lordship Shouzi Yozdek. Alas, the coded message had been more difficult than usual to decipher and though Qarzten Caimund had a special team working on it around the clock, to date there had been no real progress (reported).  

As it were, this setback had come closely on the heels of another more devastating one. A while ago the only sure evidence against Shouzi, an incriminating letter written by him to Kujoge Yozdek, had been the means of an extortion attempt on the Lord. This letter had been traced to a freelance spy identified as a Ms. Jepipi. Just as Qarzten Caimund’s operatives had been about to close in on her at the bustling port of Kenzo, she had mysteriously vanished along with her trackers. The trail of the letter had gone cold from there on.

Of course, Qarzten Caimund could have incarcerated Nijel Pinng, on the charge of gaining her employment under false pretenses to spy on the throne and then tortured her to extract the required confessions. This would have only gotten him as far as her former master Ronian Keru however, who would have long been dead before the adequate law enforcement forces could arrest him. And so, temporarily Qarzten had ignored Sejon’s pitiful efforts to hide Nijel’s involvement in the business of the penknife. But then, Qarzten had much bigger fish to fry, and he did not want to draw up his net only to find two small shrimps ensnared in it. Nijel Pinng was far more useful kept as bait to trap all other significant conspirators. For that reason, if nothing else, Qarzten had bided his time till he had attained more solid evidence that was sure to follow. Then with these indisputable proofs in his arsenal, he could in one swoop (precise action), cleanse the system of all its parasitical elements.                                    

                                                                           ~

 

The subsequent day's extensively compiled report on Imperial Tutor Worren Youkup’s early morning unscheduled visit to Lady Sejon and the particulars of that meeting had both disappointed and exasperated Qarzten Caimund. He had expected more from one with Royal tutor’s competence; meanwhile, the specifics of Sejon's brilliant performance had made Qarzten wince. He had secretly abhorred her for her deceitful ways but now he held Sejon in even greater contempt for, not only corrupting the impeccable reputation of an innocuous old tutor Worren Youkup but also using his lifelong principles against him. This needless complication had come about because of Sejon’s informants had failed to pass on in time to her, Zakhertan Yozdek’s recent change of heart and his subsequent decision to establish Magnian, once the boy prince had reached the proper age, as the new Crown Prince. Nijel's palliative, sneaky suggestion meanwhile in reality, a double-edged sword, had caused Sejon to further jeopardize (sabotage) her standing.

Qarzten Caimund quietly reflected on the (previously) intercepted, second secret message from Nijel; though not yet deciphered, he could deduce (fathom) the contents from the subsequent corresponding events. The sudden onset of Lady Sejon’s illness after Worren’s visit for instance had come as no real surprise, although the choice of surrogate Royal Physician, who had attended her, had piqued (annoyed) Qarzten’s interest. Particularly since her ordinarily a robust personal physician had so abruptly was indisposed by a mysterious ailment, necessitating this opportune replacement by Enqui Rimeng, the personal physician of her nemesis Prince Herleif.

 

07- YOUNG ROYAL PHYSICIAN ENQUI RIMENG (1)

A barely detectable frown registered on Qarzten’s lips as he had quickly pinpointed the devious hand behind all this. Even though these recent developments would only slightly alter the portended course of events, Qarzten leaving nothing to chance, set to cover all bases, as well, manage any fluke insidious eventualities.

Later that evening, following his usual routine, Qarzten Caimund dismissed his assistant for a time and shut himself up in his study to deal with this and other most urgent (pressing) and delicate matters of the day. Most nights Qarzten had typically skipped sleep altogether (being a habitual insomniac) examining all vital reports, before presenting these with apt addendum resolutions, to Sovereign Zakhertan Yozdek (the only other who never seemed to need any sleep) later in the hour.   

In just less than an hour the first eight cases were summarily dispensed with when, upon opening a file and perusing its contents with one glance, a thin smile supplanted the habitual stern expression on Qarzten’s face.

“Good!” He hissed, very much relieved at having received confirmation of the postponement of Prince Herleif’s actual conspiracy to eliminate Magnian.

This was certainly welcome news for it eradicated another burdensome matter from Qarzten Caimund’s hectic schedule. Had his gentle coercion not worked, he would have had to implement dicey measures or lethal force to thwart the assassination attempt on Prince Magnian. It was not because he had been ordered to preserve Magnian's life, nor was it out of kindness that Qarzten had taken upon himself the task of safeguarding the boy. In the past he had not intervened in the demises of the other Princelings but then the circumstances had not been as volatile. This course was warranted because of the precarious (foreign) political circumstances created by both Korion and Kontu, with the greater danger stemming from Hedenko. In the likelihood of Herleif’s premature demise, the absence of an immediate replacement would set a dangerous precedence within the realm of Wenjenkun.

At this point Qarzten Caimund feeling tetchy, rose and walked over to stand, hands clasped behind his back, before the open doorway that led to the private veranda. A gentle breeze stirred the curtains that had been pulled back to either side, letting in the cool, crisp air into the room to gently caress his face. Qarzten had worked all through the night yet felt unaffected by it. Stretching out his limbs, he absently observed how the first reddish glow of the dawn streaking in over the high wall, then bathed the tranquil scene in the garden. The low-lying mist on the dew simply glistened like precious gems on the green grass, plump leaves and on the petals of the exquisite orchids. No artist's brush could create such a breathtaking depiction as that which now lay before his eyes; nature alone, that one unrivaled expert craftsman, had the only means with which to embody (illustrate) such wonder!

The rising songs of the awakening birds and insects next greeted his ears announcing the impending arrival of another brilliant day; despite his outward passive complacency however, his mind was still beset with worrisome loose ends. Suddenly feeling famished he turned away, sauntered (moseyed) back to his seat then comfortably settled in, he called out to his assistant, the one who had just moment’s prior reported for work as the shift had changed.

Indicating with a slight movement of his chin, the night's completed work for him to dispense, Qarzten succinctly next instructed the trusted aid to see to it that, after his quick sluice (sponge down), he be served his customary light breakfast, this time at the terrace.

 

08 -QARZTEN CAMUND (17)A - JP3

Once the simple repast was placed in readiness before him Qarzten Caimund, followed his habitual routine and partook of it quickly then, returned inside and went immediately right back to work. Marveling at his master's stamina, the assistant brought in the newest stack of documents and then stepping aside quietly waited, for them to receive Qarzten’s stamp of office (mark, hallmark).

In no time at all the Senior Grand Secretary had finished with this first pile and reached for the smaller second set of correspondence, marked "Confidential" in red lettering, which had next been quickly brought in as soon as the first pile was taken away. Qarzten pulled these new documents squarely in front of him and picking up the topmost one, broke the seal, retrieved the inside letter, then eased back into his chair to peruse its contents. In one glance he had absorbed the contents of the carefully worded report. A glint of a smile just then brushed his lips, “Good, they have finally deciphered the code. From now on we will have a much better idea of her correspondence and of their future, illicit activities.

It was about time, too; fortunately, at present, no drastic measures were warranted. Nevertheless, he impatiently drummed his fingers on the desk for he had never liked being stymied. He re-read the last part of the report and the decoded succinct messages once more, this time more assiduously, his lips forming the words noiselessly. "Cock not in possession of prize. It’s whereabouts still unknown."  Qarzten Caimund leered despite himself at the whimsical reference to the feared Black Eunuch Egil Viggoaries as the 'Cock'. This was a good turn of phrase; Nijel had both guts and a sardonic sense-of-humor.

More importantly, Caimund’s hunches about Viggoaries being the extortionist had been right on the mark, but now the Dark Eunuch had lost the advantages of the leverage it had given him over Lord Shouzi Yozdek.

“He must be livid.” Qarzten Caimund looked away, continuing with his quiet reflection, “That explains the Eunuch's latest series (cycle) of unbridled, perverse tyrannies. Worse still for Viggoaries, Lord Shouzi Yozdek has finally put a face to his tormentor and will now bring to bear his full vindictiveness against him. Even so, Viggoaries has enough devious power to thwart these impending assaults and extricate himself totally from these troubles in the same way he always has.”   

 

(END OF SECTION 14)

 

 

                                                                                     ~ 

 

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 1

It seemed as if an immeasurable time had passed, since Nevetsecnuac had forged ahead towards Lord Shonne Gulbrand's province that lay on route to the Capital. 

All through his travels and encounters Nevetsecnuac noted the prevailing and encompassing currents of fear and despair that emanated from the perpetual clampdown on the population.  It was heart wrenching to observe the already ravaged individuals striving to survive under the tyrannical rule of the oppressive bureaucrats and their minions, who imposed impossibly burdensome taxes, conscript labor and military service on all.

 What was worse was the disheartening lack of backbone, never mind the least hope for a spark of rebellion or the smallest inkling of any insurgency rising from the piled ashes of these enslaved masses. 

The option of capitulating, however, was not in Nevetsecnuac’s vocabulary…. And could not be so! Resolutely therefore Nevetsecnuac had consoled himself through it all, reflecting on the indomitable spirit of the Wenjenkun nation and the invincible fabric that had once forged this great nation, hoping against hope that it will do so yet again under the right circumstance and leadership, perhaps in five if not in eight year’s time.

                                                                            ~

Alas, Heng Erling, by his action of luring Nevetsecnuac prematurely from his safe mountain abode had irrevocably altered the course of Wenjenkun’s History.

                                                                              ~

It so happens that bad weather particularly downpours have their own surprising advantages. One of which is, when torrential rains ruthlessly pelt the inhabitants no one, including heavily armed guards manning the gates at border provinces, be in any mood to be fastidious or vigilant.  And so, on such a dismal afternoon, Nevetsecnuac properly disguised, blended right in with a returning group of merchants and their servants leading their heavily laden carts with varied goods, passing right through, without least trouble, the first two checkpoints.

The long caravan (Nevetsecnuec was in) later still halted before the iron gates and waited for the prompt dispensing of the customary bribe by the group’s leader before passing unimpeded this and the final checkpoint and entered the territory of Gulbrand province.  As dusk was quickly approaching, the group picked up momentum and hastened along the dirt road towards the nearest habitation.

Nevetsecnuac inconspicuously separating (at this point) from the pack, arrived at a modest inn at the outskirts of the village. Checking into a room and ordering simple fare, he made discreet inquiries about the state of affairs in Moulon.

The fact that Gulbrand’s name was shunned, however, confirmed Nevetsecnuac’s worst fears about the Lord’s fate. To his added dismay he learned that the province’s current ruling tyrant bore the name Shouzi Yozdek.

On the third day there was finally a welcome reprieve from the persistent deluge.  Settling his account, Nevetsecnuac quickly retrieved his horse from the stables and led him by the reins to negotiate the winding, narrow gravel path that eventually led to the outlying fields. The mid-day sun’s golden rays, streaming from the cerulean sky free of any clouds, now bathed the fields with the last remnants of a harvest resting in haystacks.  It should have been a heartwarming scene but here as well, Nevetsecnuac noted the bitter oppression that seemed permanently etched on the solemn, miserable faces of the peasants bending over toiling the land which they will do from sunup to sunset. 

A few days later when Nevetsecnuac, riding his horse rounded an extended hill, he observed in a vast clearing the most surprising scene. There in the distance was a most extraordinary, fortified, affluent border town, with high, gleaming golden towers and imposing tall gates. Access to it could only be gained through a drawbridge constructed over a deep moat.  Though reason told him to bypass this provincial town, something else compelled him to urge his horse towards it.  Perhaps it was a sense of justice and duty that compelled him to find out the fate of Lord Shonne Gulbrand or at least determine where the Lord's remains now rested so that he could pay his final respects and offer sacrifices and prayers to the benevolent Lord's soul.

Eventually the narrow path he was following converged with other better traveled roads to become a major highway leading to the hub.  Just on the outskirts of the town however, before reaching the moat, some roads veered towards several inns of various sizes that were nestled in a sparsely wooded area.  From these establishments lively sounds and appetizing aromas assailed the travelers' ears and noses, inviting them inside. 

Unlike so many of his counterparts, Nevetsecnuac chose a respectable one, rented a room and entrusted his horse to the custody of the stable hands.  Foregoing his meal in his eager anticipation, he then left the premises on foot and blended in with the crowd streaming into the town through the eastern gate just before dusk. 

This being the Day of the Spirits, he found most of the streets thronging with people and carriages.  The clamor of their voices mingled with the din of the procession.  Locals, clothed in their brightly colored garments, carrying lamps and offerings to their dead were flooding into the temples, lit up like day, where invocations and prayers were being offered.

Trying to be inconspicuous, Nevetsecnuac moved to one of the less crowded temples to pay his respects to the dead.  Dispensing money in a bowl, he took some candles and offerings and placed them on the altar of the God of the underworld, Yaskur.  Kneeling, he then prayed for the souls of those long departed.

Suddenly his prayers were rudely interrupted by a rowdy bunch of eight provincial constables.  Disregarding the sanctity of the place, they had burst into the large hall and, in their inebriated state, surrounded a local merchant and began rising wild pandemonium.  The bullied merchant, trembling on his knees, with pearls of perspiration dripping from his forehead, pleaded his case as to why he was late with his promised bribe and offered to make amends to them.

"Too late for that now.” one scoffed, glowering at the poor, petrified merchant who was in the throes of explaining circumstances that had prevented the prompt delivery.

"How would it look if we made an exception?" The brute constable pinned his venomous eyes on the merchant and gnashed his teeth.

"Your crime is unpardonable!" a third bellowed, pushing his way to the front.  "Imagine, trying to hide in here!"

"Bind him.  You should be taught a lesson.” The group's leader (standing apart from the group) icily ejected his command.

"Have mercy!” the old shopkeeper pleaded with his throat constricting, shedding tears.  "This is the Night of the Spirits!  You know my word is good.  I will deliver as I’ve promised.  I will even surpass the difference; consider it a bonus for the trouble I've caused!  Honest, I wasn't going to run away!  I really, really lack the means now.  Just give me one more day…."  A furious slap just then across the merchant’s face silenced the old man.

"Shut up, squealing pig!  We've already been to your house." The deputy grabbed the merchant by the hair next, and spit into his face.

When the old priest rushed to intervene, he was shoved back so violently that he flew across the room, crashing into the far corner.

Biting his lip, Nevetsecnuac rushed to help the bruised and dizzy priest to his feet.  "Are you all right, Venerable Sir?” he whispered. 

“I’m all right, only my pride is bruised” The old priest nodded then casting a cautionary look at the other priests congregating in opposite corner. He shook his head as if to say to them, “Stay out of this and do nothing”. In response they lowered their heads and averted all eyes as they remained woodenly livid with a flush of crimson gradually overtaking their sallow cheeks.

Nevetsecnuac’s disciplined mind going against his innate response had also quickly checked his own outrage for it would not do for him, particularly at this juncture, to draw unwarranted attention by interfering.

The locals in the hall meanwhile had remained huddled together with ghostly faces and trembling in fear.  The one or two defiant young souls that strove to escape this dangerous circumstance drew instead the wrath of the irate constables.  In mid flight both were tripped, fell then were violently kicked and roundly abused. Bloodied and bruised they crawled to the safety of a dark corner.               

Another of the stout constables in the interim had taken up post in front of the door barring any possible exit. He now hollered to command attention, "No one is allowed to leave here 'till we're done.  You are all witnesses to his crime.” He pointed at the bloodied merchant that was still pinned down.   “Does he, or does he not deserve the severe hand of the law, I say a beating he’s received is not good enough!”

A forced murmur of assent reverberated in the temple, and the large hall seemed suddenly, suffocating, and small.

Nevetsecnuac's face flushed.  Unable to bear it any longer, he was about to step forward to give challenge when he felt his vest being tugged, holding him back.

Turning, he saw an elderly beggar in tattered, patched clothes flashing him a warning look from a face scored with wrinkles and scars.  Half hidden in the shadows, he whispered, "Don't be a fool!” in a pressing tone.

 Just then, another ten constables swarmed in, creating a greater panic in the temple.  The poor merchant was dragged outside, kicking and squealing like a pig being taken to the slaughterhouse.

"He's done for.", exclaimed a trembling voice beside Nevetsecnuac.

"We won't see him alive again, poor soul!” the distraught priest mournfully added as he walked away to join his fellows.

No sooner had the swarm of constables gone than the crowd in the temple hall, forsaking their purpose for being there, jostled to the door and disappeared in a flash.  The sounds outside grew quickly muted and then silence prevailed.

"What was his great crime?” Nevetsecnuac turned to ask the beggar, still crouched in the dark corner.

The beggar checked to see that they were the only souls that had remained on the scene then scoffed, "Crime?  He was only guilty of shortchanging his extortion payment.  Poor man, only yesterday he buried his wife.  He must have exhausted all his funds on her funeral."

 He rose to his feet.  Shaking his head in resignation he added, "This sort of bullying goes on unchecked all the time- best that we, too, disappear before more trouble follows."

Blocking the beggar's way, Nevetsecnuac bowed respectfully, introduced himself as "Svein" and thanked the beggar for his help in keeping him from potential disaster.  Unaccustomed to receiving kind greetings much less kind words, the beggar just shrugged off Nevetsecnuac's thanks.  But remaining on the spot the beggar squinted at Svein, curiously appraising his face and fine clothes.  Convinced of the younger man's sincerity and honesty, he then returned the greetings and introduced himself as Lu Moldan.

You must be a stranger to these parts.  Yes, you have traveled from far; Lu grasped at the truth without voicing his inner queries.

   "I don't mean to be singing my own praises but, sir; your intended action could have landed you in serious trouble.  You could have lost your life or worse, been imprisoned, severely beaten then tortured to death.  They would not have been as lenient with you as they were with Father Zuri.  We all know that these bastards travel in large groups, and that it was just a matter of time before the reinforcements showed up.  How else do you think they find the courage to carry out their lawlessness and vile acts?"

"But what of the lasting repercussions of law and order, surely there exists, some measure of accountability within the system, however corrupt?” The naïve and sanguine notion escaped Svein’s (Nevetsecnuac’s) lips before it could be curtailed.

"What law?  What order?"  Lu threw his head back with a guffaw.  "All officials, high and low are corrupt!  Where do you suppose all their illegal confiscations end up?  Are you kidding me?!!” He chortled; but then seeing Svein's flushed face, he softened, "You must have just arrived here son and that explains it."  The Beggar Lu in half disbelief (with some skepticism) studied this idealistic youth (Svein) more acutely before voicing his query, which he then quickly answered.  “You are from far, far away… the furthest rim, yes?” He nodded. "Well, this may not be the frontier, but, believe me, the situation is far worse here.  It has been that way for the last twelve, or is it fifteen, long, long excruciating years?”

“It’s been absolute hell for all who are living here… if it could be called that!  The corruption is so rampant, so imbedded in the provincial government that...  Ay!!!!” He waved a hand. “But then you must be wondering why endure such hardships, why not look for a better existence elsewhere.  Ah, but the poverty chains are so entrenched!” He shrugged.

“And so, we endure, wallow or lurch would be a more precise word, this trapped state being no better off than scavenging rats.  But you, you're a visitor and you must not linger here any longer than necessary.  Heed these words if you do not scorn my poverty: Trust no one.  Do not believe in anything you hear or see.  Conclude your business and be on your way as soon as you are able, that is if you do not wish to leave your head behind, on the executioner's block.  Of course I need not warn you about the constables."

"I'm most grateful for your concern, sir, and I will definitely heed your good counsel."  Svein (Nevetsecnuac) bowed with thanks then, after a moment's hesitation added, "As you are so kind as to trouble yourself with a mere stranger's well being, sir, may I impose further on your goodwill with a query?"

"Please do."

"Sir, my purpose in coming to this province has been to seek out Lord Shonne Gulbrand's burial place in order to pay my respects to the great Lord.  May I therefore..."

"What burial place?” the beggar snapped.  "There's no such thing."  Shaking his head in anger he laughed coldly and walked away a few steps.  Then he stopped, turned and scrutinized Svein's face.  He wanted very much to ask why one as young as Svein and an obvious stranger should be so concerned with the late Lord’s eventual resting place.  Instead, he said indignantly, "Your search would be in vain.  Even Lord Shonne Gulbrand's Centuries old ancestral burial plots, after surviving the ravages of time, had been vilely desecrated and obliterated into heaps of dust.  Nothing, nothing at all remains of his legacy, his family or his name.  Even his wife, sister to the emperor, has perished long, long time ago.  They are all gone, all without exception."

06- LU MOLDAN

Lu abruptly paused. Though he knew he was alone with Svein, his eyes still fearfully scanned the immediate perimeter before resuming in a hushed voice, "If that's your only purpose in coming here, son, you had best be on your way."  Lowering his grim face, he turned once more to go but, on reflection he stopped and, looking back, imparted his last words of advice to Svein, "Besides, it’s far too dangerous for you to be asking such questions around here, even after this length of time.  Now, leave well enough alone and be gone from this misbegotten province."  He clasped his stomach as pangs of hunger had stabbed at him just then.  Subsequently distracted, he turned quickly and hurried away.

"Oh, blasted hunger!” Nevetsecnuac faintly heard Lu swear to himself as he was drifting into the shadows. 

“What sacrilege!” Nevetsecnuac fumed thinking of Lord Shonne Gulbrand’s fate.  Then his thoughts turned to the beggar Lu, “An intriguing individual!” He mused.  “I'm certain he knows far more than he's letting on.  I wonder what relationship he bore to the late Lord to warrant such enduring loyalty.” Nevetsecnuac inwardly queried next, mindful of the heart’s fiery passion that the beggar’s tone could not conceal. 

 Nevetsecnuac then quickly made up his mind. "Please wait up, sir!"  He rushed after Lu.

 For an old man the beggar had moved with the agility of a wildcat and, within seconds, had disappeared from view.  Veering round the corner Nevetsecnuac with his prowess quickly caught up with the beggar in a deserted alleyway. 

Laying a gentle hand on Lu's shoulder, he said, "Sir, I would be most honored if you would consent to dine with me.  I have not eaten a meal for quite some time; furthermore, I would be most appreciative of good company."

Tears of gratitude pricked Lu's eyes once he overcame his surprise, for he had not been treated with such kindness, such respect since the time when...it was so long ago he could barely recollect.  Averse to leaving this region, he had taken various odd jobs that others found too detestable or too hard to do.  With these skimpy earnings he had managed to carve out a meager existence in the past but, of late, he had found no such opportunities.  There were more desperate and fit workers than there were jobs.

His gaze shamefully fell on his own tattered and soiled clothes.  If the truth be known, his Lips had not touched a single grain of rice or even millet for the last three days, but he was too righteous to steal or beg.  Not that it would have done any good. Because of the recent set of adversities, even the pious that streamed into town at this festival period, had remained tight pursed.  

 Today of all days his despondency had finally driven him into the temple with the purpose of borrowing some of the offerings but, once there, he had relented on his planned sacrilege and had, just moments before the disturbance occurred, quietly resigned himself to death from starvation.  An invitation to dinner was a good fortune he had not dreamt of, although he understood well enough Svein's motive in wanting his company. 

Still, for the price of a small bowl of gruel, what Svein wanted could be given freely; there was no need for such generosity.

Could this be a ruse to entrap him? He mused.  Spies were planted everywhere as a rule, sending scores to the gallows every month.  But why would they bother with him after all this time and on such a night? He pondered.

 It might have been different once, but not now. He was too old and feeble to merit any fuss let alone the expense of a trial.  Assassins abound, they would have simply snuffed out his miserable Life long ago in some dark alley and be done with him.

A Dinner, well then with his Life so burdened with hardships, why should he fear death any longer? Besides this being the Spirits night, in this late an hour many would be too terrified of repercussions from avenging ghosts wondering about, to venture outside of the safety of their confines.  Hmm that also presented another difficulty, as many eating establishments would have long since been closed.  All except that one place at the outskirts of the …… Hm… So resolved Lu met Svein's eyes and nodded, "Sir, I would be most happy to oblige but, in all fairness, I must ask you to consider carefully what you are proposing."

Svein was adamant.

"Very well then, I will take us to a place where even Lord Yozdek's Militia would not dare show their faces.  Still, it may be a trifle costly.” Lu added, hemming and hawing.

"You are shaming me, sir, with such talk of money.” Svein responded.  "Let us be on our way without further ado."

 

(END OF SECTION 1)

                                                                                     ~