LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION 28

With a blank stare, Zunrogo followed the figure of Fradel Rurik Korvald exiting the room with Tizan in tow.  Unexpectedly, his thoughts drifted to his earlier concerns, as he continued to stare at the closed door, long after they had departed.

01- INCRIMINATING  lLETTER - JP

Until that day when he had been secretly assigned to recover the incriminating letter, he had no inkling, none, of its existence.  After the clandestine meeting, smartly, he had stalked the cloaked figure and observed him disappear into the Prime Minister's residences, hence, confirming the source of the orders.  Now, as always, he never undertook any assignment or initiated the least action until he had completely grasped the real score.  This sound measure had delivered him more than once from a perilous end.

Five weeks… that's how long he'd ardently pursued this case on the sly.  That's how long he'd been given but, through his vigilance, he had finally made a tactical breakthrough.  His discreet, painstaking investigations had eventually borne fruit, and he had uncovered some rather intriguing facts concerning Lord Shouzi Yozdek.  He had learned, for instance, how His Lordship for the past two years had been blackmailed by some very powerful person or group on a serious score.  He’d foolishly perhaps brushed aside   the fact that, His Lordship during these last two years, must have assigned others far more capable than he, and had only now sought his services, as a last resort. Nonetheless, he’d been flattered to be regarded highly enough by P.M. Lamont Gudaren who was in obvious collusion with the Lord, to resolve this dire, consequential matter.

Zunrogo smiled, thinking instead of how the successful conclusion of this task would reap him, untold benefits.

 Of course, speculating on the contents of the letter, he had considered bringing this to the attention of Sovereign Zakhertan Yozdek; but he would have to be a real fool, and a dead one at that, to so much as try it.  Besides, why should he forfeit this golden opportunity to curry favor with those of real consequence, just to gain an uncertain reward from the Sovereign, whose actions had always been unpredictable at best?

He reflected further on the day he had made the breakthrough but since then, despite his tries, he had still not obtained positive identification of the blackmailers or the co-conspirators.

Each time he had made great strides and seemed to be on the verge of a discovery, his sources would mysteriously dry up, and all incriminating evidence would vanish without a trace into thin air.  Moreover, possessing an analytical mind these otherwise disheartening setbacks only confirmed his long-standing suspicions and his strong hunch.  Sometime prior, through inductive reasoning, he had arrived, with a measure of certainty, at just who it was that was behind it all and, once he had a grip on that fact, he had charted a decisive course which inevitably led him to this set of circumstances.

That had been the reason he had petitioned to be assigned to the task of affording Fradel Rurik Korvald safe conduct on this last leg of his journey.  He knew that this ingenious cover as the guide and protective escort to the illustrious scholar would better enable him to attain this goal.  That had also been why he had insisted the moment he knew that Tizan book passage of this vessel instead of, one more suited to transporting a noted scholar.

Suddenly a note of uncertainty infiltrated his thoughts.  As it became more pronounced his mind vacillated (wavered) once more.  “Was it wise of him to go at it alone?  Could he cope with the magnitude of it should things go awry?  What about the dire repercussions either way?” 

A deeper concern at once darkened (clouded) his face.  “He had been given assurances and sound reasoning, yes, but what real guarantee, what leverage did he hold should P.M. Lamont Gudaren did not live up to his promise and chose instead, to dispose of him permanently shortly after he had procured the letter?” 

P.M. LAMONT GUDAREN

Fresh concern just then knitted Zunrogo’s brow. “He had not taken any one into his confidence, not Tizan, not Gaos Zunkur, not even… and so, he had no one watching his back.    What if His Lordship Shouzi Yozdek, shrewd man that he was, were to strike out independently of the Prime Minister to initiate his (Zunrogo’s) demise soon after his completion of the assignment?”

 

                                                                              ~

 

After Fradel Rurik Korvald was promptly ushered (deposited) into his room Tizan, showing reluctance to leave, insisted on recounting to the scholar the list of essential provisions he had taken pains to procure during Fradel's brief absence from the room.  With a certain amusement, Nevetsecnuac (Fradel) discretely noted Tizan's underhanded aim.

True enough, after Tizan closed the door tightly behind him, he quickly produced the key he had stolen and locked the scholar in.

"This is for your own good." Tizan shouted with forced sincerity from other side of the door.  "I bid you peaceful rest now, sir!  Try not to be too concerned about what you may hear later on, especially tonight."

 Tizan, gritting his teeth, grumbled noiselessly, contemptuously. “So put up with it, wretch!  If it were up to me, you'd be transported bound and gagged, strapped to a horse's ass, all the way to the Capital.”  His wicked mind (on) entertaining many other, viler, despicable scenarios, he next sported a broader (wide) grin and quickly strode away.

Nevetsecnuac on the inside, quite unconcerned, shrugged, and then strolled over to the porthole to stare out at the dense fog.  Suddenly however, a slight trepidation brushed across his face, and he shook his head. “If only he didn't need Zunrogo, to gain entry into the Capital.”

Unfortunately, Nevetsecnuac had been informed at the last port how, due to most recent unsuccessful assassination attempts on the emperor’s life, for bad news travels fast, all points of entry to the Imperial Capital, for an indefinite period, would remain heavily guarded and closely monitored. More importantly, any access to the inner segments of Channing would be severely curtailed. These ardent (extreme) restrictions, the intense scrutiny, could, at any time, expose Fradel Rurik Korval (Nevetsecnuac), as an impostor. Conversely, with a well-known personage like Zunrogo Tugo vouching for the authenticity of Fradel’s credentials, a smooth and timely ingress (way in, entrance) would be assured. Zunrogo was made indispensable for yet another reason: as Nevetsecnuac true prowess was so truncated (curtailed) under his pseudo identity, Zunrogo’s protection would be an essential deterrence for any other future attempts on the scholar Fradel’s life.

 

                                                                                   ~

 

 When Tizan reported back, Zunrogo immediately dispatched him again with a new set of commands.  Then, as if on second thought, he called Tizan back just as he was headed out the door and instructed him to bring the woman named Disaidun Agripe to him at once.

"Sir?"  Tizan was perplexed.

"You heard me!"  Zunrogo turned his angry back to Tizan.

“Since when had Tizan ever questioned my orders, however bizarre?  All right, given these circumstances, I'll overlook it this once.”  Zunrogo grimaced coldly, his back still to the door.

As Tizan assented and sharply turned to head out the door, his face assumed a strange, baffled look.

03-TZAN JP

 “Now, what would the captain be wanting with her; granted, she was ravishingly beautiful, but this was hardly the time for Zunrogo to be indulging in such frolic?”  With a strange gleam in his eye, he reached out to unlock her cabin door then stepped in briskly to survey the room.

Being a particularly dark day, the room was scantily illuminated by the oil lamp and, through the flickering light, Tzan spotted two figures casting long, wavering shadows on the far wall.  The husband was hugging (embracing) his wife as he whispered something into her ear, presumably soothing words, in his feeble attempt to ease, to arrest her fears while she clutched to him; both were standing also, protectively before the sleeping baby lying snuggled in its blankets at the far corner of the bunk bed.

Tizan strode across and stood glowering venomously at them as his smile quickly turned into a scowl of hatred, "Oh what a perfect picture you two make.  The loving devoted couple.  Too bad it’s about to be shattered… Ha, ha, ha!” This made them quake more because Tizan’s careless words had portended (foretold) the dreaded catastrophe that obviously awaited them.

"What do you want from us?" Despite his attempt to suppress it, the man's voice shook (quivered) in fear, as he demanded.

"Oh, from you nothing yet,” Tizan turned to the woman and, grasping her arm in a steel grip, yanked Disaidun Agripe forward (towards him), tearing her away from her husband's embrace.

The woman inwardly shuddered and cast a pitiful plea-gaze at her husband, silently imploring him to do something, to rescue her from, perhaps a fate worse than death. But how could he defy an Imperial guard and live to talk about it. The child, as if sensing the danger, suddenly woke just then and started to screech and bellow.

"Shut that brat up, or else", Tizan growled and turned, showing his clenched fist to the husband, threat implicit, that he would do it for him, if the squalling nuisance was not quietened at once.

The man abandoning his defiant aim, compliantly turned and picked up the baby and protectively cradled it in his arms; but when the crying did not cease, fearing for his son’s safety, he pressed the infant’s face to his chest to stifle the noise.

 "Hush Tait, hush child.  Hush."

"Husband, please help, oh, save me!" Her eyes, issuing silent-pleas were again directed at her husband, as the hot tears coursed down her cheeks, wrenching her husband’s heart and causing him to clench his teeth in anguish.

“He couldn't just let her be taken away, not like this.  He may never see her again!”

 His struggling wife Disaidun Agripe, meanwhile, had dug her heels into the plank floor, but was still being forcefully dragged towards the door.

 Determinedly, her husband was about to put down the gasping child and regardless (heedless) of the consequence, rush to confront (tackle, defy) this Imperial brute, when Tizan half turned, his menacing grin all too explicit,

“You just try it, old man, I dare you to!” 

These unspoken words rooted the husband to the spot. He was only a civic (public, municipal) official, but even if he had been studying martial arts or had served in the military, what real chance would he have now, going against an elite Imperial guard?  Cowering, he lowered his gaze to the floor, “Maybe, just maybe they just wanted to question her?” He reasserted inwardly, trying to calm his fears. “Although, for what reason, he could not phantom?”

 Long after they had gone, however, he continued to pace the floor to and for, senses deadened as if in a mad daze. The tragic picture of his wife’s eyes pleading, her fruitless struggle, and her silent accusation, permanently etched on his mind's eye, haunted his eyes, ears and soul to the bottomless abyss while remorse, like a long needle, kept mercilessly jabbing and jabbing at his heart.

“What kind of spineless man was he anyway?  How could he have allowed his precious, virtuous wife to have been taken away from him like that, without the least struggle?”

“Yes, he knew he'd constrained his fury, wanting to protect his child, still, was that reason enough?” He shook his head, his brain searching desperately for more altruistic rationale, any hidden noble motivation to absolve (forgive) him for his cowardice.

DISRAUGHT HUSBAND 3

“The Imperial guard ruffian was too powerful; besides he had been armed and had others backing him up.  What can one man do to counter this grave injustice against a murderous army of brutes?

Maybe, just maybe, all they wanted was specific info, and so, sought to interrogate his wife. Again, he tried to ease his conscience from the intense, gripping shame, by reasoning with the same barefaced lie; but try as he might, the naked truth, stubbornly, blatantly gripped his heart and wrenched it.  No, there was no getting around it.  Each time he tried to deny it the brutal reality of it still snuck in forcefully and struck him to the very core of his being.

Cowardice, he was guilty of cowardice.  He was a useless piece of offal… And as his due punishment there would be, for the rest of his life, no reprieve, no absolution for him.   

Intermittent, persistent flushes of anger, shame, regret and then outrage washed over him, made him feel consistently smaller, smaller than a maggot, slime, a slug.

How would he face her?  How could he ever right this wrong?  His imagination ran rampant, and waves of sickness and disgust consumed him once more as he quietly sobbed, his body trembling and convulsing.

Subsequently, he jumped up and, like a trapped animal, paced the room to and for once more, stopping only to pound his fists on the cabin wall. When he noticed the profuse blood which now oozed from lacerations of his hands, beyond caring, he simply wiped them on his shirt, staining it with crimson streaks!

 

                                                                               ~

(END OF SECTION 28)

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 23

 

The mayhem (great pandemonium) of the crowds, meanwhile, kept on going long after they had gushed outside; running, running, until they collapsed or found refuge at the nearby food stands or teahouses where they (with tongues wagging) then began to spread the fantastic, hair-raising stories about the stranger Zonar and their brush with death.  By noon, Zonar's name and accompanying rumors had spread like wildfire to the farthest corners of the Prefecture.

The account of this fiery red-haired giant was tattooed on everyone's tongue and, by then, his features had become greatly exaggerated.  He was described as being well over fifteen feet in height instead of just seven, endowed with flaming, snakelike hair, flashing eyes and having a red reptilian tongue; he was also said to have the jagged, sharp teeth of a predator protruding from his purple lips, and all of this was framed (held) by a demonic dark azure (cerulean, cobalt) face.

01- Zonar's exaggerated image

Many claimed he possessed the supernatural power to command thunder, lightning and fire, and many also attested that he had the combined strength of a thousand men.  His single, menacing gaze had turned the bailiffs sent to apprehend him and everyone else in the courtroom to stone.  He had cast an evil spell which prevented people from moving a single muscle, or even blinking an eyelid, until he had had his say, then had called down a bolt of lightning which threatened to reduce the Prefect's court to cinders and, riding away upon it, had disappeared without a trace.  This was truly a supernatural phenomenon. 

They uttered gratitude to their protective deities at this point for having escaped such a catastrophe, hoping, praying that they would never lay eyes on such a monster or his like ever again.  They swore with subsequent conviction that the accused Fradel Rurik Korvald was in league with the evil forces and, therefore, was the one responsible for conjuring up this demon to scare the prefect into dismissing the case just when things had gone the worse for him.

"I hope His Honor won't be dissuaded from passing proper judgment on this villain." one of them sounded out his concern above the general hubbub.

"But first", another chimed in, "he had best call up the priests to properly exorcise the courtroom and rid the place of all evil influences before rendering the death sentence on this culprit, Fradel what's-his-name."  All nodded in concurrence.

"Too bad His Excellency, Provincial Governor Shuri, is indisposed," two, better informed, rabble (Arland and Bryner) whispered among themselves, off to the side of the crowd.  "Until the new Governor is installed in the post, Prefect Micen Do must bear the full burden of his final decision himself, bereft of guidance and protection from his superior."

"That could still take several months.  I certainly do not envy him now," the better dressed of the two, Arland, commented wryly.  "Just the same, I hope for my own sake that he proves up to the task."

"What do you have to worry about?  You're only related to him by a distant marriage," his close confident Bryner countered.  "Even if he fouls it up, your family won't be involved."

"That may be, but Micen's gotten in too deep with the Lukos.  If there is ever an investigation..."

"I hear what you are saying.  Their tentacles have spread exceedingly far.  Secret blather (rumor, natter) has it, even in this matter with Yenis; they lost no time sending their agents off to the Prefecture to dispense gold among our various officials and functionaries.  It's virtually assured that the prefect will arrive at the desired guilty verdict of Yenis and this scholar Fradel.  I understand his conviction, after all he is an alleged murderer, but why do you suppose the Lukos are so intent on ridding themselves of her?  Unless, unless they're trying to cover up something even more sinister."

"You're not hinting at that malicious gossip (hearsay) of a supposed illicit affair between Yenis and Shuri, are you?  I thought that matter had been settled (suitably resolved) long ago. Besides, weren’t they both exonerated from all suspicion and blame?"

"Who said so?" Bryner gave a meaningful smile.

"What is it that you know?"  Their natter (chat, gossip) had taken them away from the main crowd.

"Why don't you fill me in on those salacious details over a drink?" the Micen Do's relative Arland grinned, as he tapped his friend on the shoulder.

"Why not…  Just who am I protecting anyway?  Besides, all this talk has made me rather thirsty."

02-   ARLAND AND BRYNER

"What say you, we, stroll over to Tries Lane and ride those fillies in the Zhexi Tea-House, while you tell me all about it then?  It will be entirely my treat."

"You're too generous.  But you must allow me to pick first this time, you always get the best looking one for yourself."

"It's not my fault that I'm more handsome than you…Ha, ha."

"More handsome… the weight of your purse has nothing to do with it, I suppose., Ha, ha haa!"

As Arland and Byner’s forms gradually retreated into the distance, the (amassed) crowd was still engaged in a heated discussion.

The question of Fradel's guilt or innocence was of no consequence to anyone now, especially since the matter had been dwarfed by this new, supernatural threat.  Even those exceptional, intelligent few that, prior to Zonar's appearance, had decided on Fradel's innocence and had favored his release were now being swept up by the momentum of the crowd's ugly sentiments.

At safe distance from court, as the size of the congregated crowd swelled, many anxious to show off their particular expertise in this matter, embraced the chance (in lively animation) to elaborate on the various ways of disposing the evil corpse: the most expedient way of doing it, after decapitation, is by digging out the entrails of headless corpse before committing both to fire ( incineration), or, by some other specific methods ( of discarding Fradel's remains according to the Ancient Ways: The segregated parts of the body, the flesh, bones, entrails and head must all be consumed by holy fires under proper religious supervision before the accused’s’ ashes be cast into various cesspools for the eternal damnation.) This would permanently eliminate any future threat from the perchance(possibly) resurrected evil corpse.

                                                                               ~

Meanwhile, back in his private quarters, Prefect Micen Do, in a foul mood, had for hours paced the floor nervously back and forth, all the while neglecting to take tea or lunch and refusing to see anyone before he finally settled down to review Fradel's case documents.

Unlike the ignoramuses in the crowd, however, he did not believe in this superstitious nonsense even though, in collusion with the local priests, he had often enough encouraged them in the populous in order to reap the benefits of their ignorance.  Rather, his anxiety was born from the clear understanding that Fradel Rurik Korvald was now under the protection of an able assassin, perhaps even a coconspirator that had thus far eluded his guards.

As things stood now, Micen found himself on the horns of a terrible dilemma; on the one hand, there was the powerful Luko family, insisting on justice and pressuring him to settle this case quickly, on the other was this serious threat to his own life from that formidable stranger and his deadline of three days to free Fradel Rurik Korvald.

Prefect Micen felt constrained to appease the Luko Clan since he had graciously, perhaps unwisely, accepted their substantial donations and gifts but, as in the past, he could no longer shield himself under Shuri's arbitrary decisions, which he could always manipulate into accordance with his own.

Micen Do again nervously paced the floor to and for.

He knew all too well, even if he was to do Zonar's bidding he must do it in a most underhanded way.  In order to preserve his prestige, he could not afford to appear intimidated by just one stranger, or even by a hundred like him.

“Things were sure a lot easier when I worked hand-in-glove with Shuri, but he had to go and offend the Censorate Hagu.  And I warned him about Hagu, too!”   Micen, abruptly stayed his footing as he reflected, and dismally shook his head.

“Who knows what kind of person this new Governor is?  Zuyi?  Zuyi?  I know practically nothing about him.  I suppose I'll have to wait and see when he gets here, then I can feel him out good and proper, till I know just what makes him tick.”

He had upsent mindedly stopped by the window to gaze distractedly at the view outside.  The inner courtyard was virtually barren with the exception of a few, sickly Scholar Trees beside an impressive man-made mountain and a cluster of flowers newly planted off to the side of the stone bridge. The flowers had all bent their heads, wilting pathetically, which depressed Micen still more.

 He had taken great pains to have this garden constructed just right but nothing seemed to grow, let alone thrive, in that cursed soil.  He had hired and fired so many gardeners and horticulturists he had lost count.

His eyes just then rested on the small pond by the bridge.  Oh well, at least the carp are thriving.  With a shrug of his shoulders, he went over and plumped himself into his well-padded chair. 

First and foremost, he knew he had to ascertain his subordinate, Ashrath's, claim about Fradel Rurik Korvald.

"Now, where are the devils of those papers?"  He frantically searched through the pile, digging them up from the bottom, and examined them, this time with greater care.  Taking the trouble now to unfasten the envelope containing Fradel's summons before the emperor, what he read there drained all the color from his face and caused his heart to skip a beat.

 “So, he was telling the truth after all.  I thought he was merely boasting.” 

Micen inwardly cursed that cowardly Magistrate for not perfunctorily resolving this sticky situation and having Fradel murdered in transport then blaming it on the renegade bandits.

As he perused over Fradel's sworn disposition, Micen was forced to concede the scholar's brilliance.

 Again, reviewing the recorded testimonies and the case documents, he now saw to his greater dismay that, other than the knife found at the scene, there was no real, solid evidence on which to convict Fradel of murder and robbery.  The adulterous affair with Yenis and his collusion with her in the murder were all pure conjecture and solely based on the testimony of the woman, an established liar.

“I suppose I'll have to have these contradictory statements of Latham and Hacket patched up before they're sent on to the Capital.  Still, I'm rather baffled.” He frowned.

“What earthly reason would these two have for giving false evidence, I wonder?  What is it that they are trying to cover up?  Oh, never mind.”  After a moment's pause, he dismissed the thought.  “I can clear this up later, when I can be discreet.  If I do it right, I may even be able to curry still extra favors from them.  That would be more profitable than just exposing them.  They can certainly afford it.” He wrung his hands imagining these riches already in his grasp.

Next reviewing Yenis's confession from beginning to end, he again paused.

“I find this most puzzling.  Why, at death's door, would she have to gain, what is her motive, for framing Fradel Rurik Korvald?  Surely, it's not because she still wishes to protect the identity of her real lover; not after he, so heartlessly abandoned her?  Or did he?  What grudge could she possibly bear this scholar that she insists on spinning such tales in order to snare him in a capital offense?”  Stroking his beard, Micen mused.

“Had the two encountered Fradel in their flight and Fradel, disposing of her lover, had later, as she claimed, forced his violent attentions upon her?  That certainly could be one plausible explanation for it.  Still, this Fradel hardly strikes me as one who could become infatuated with her.  I can't pinpoint it, but there is something definitely odd about him.  It’s as if he's come from another time.  Perhaps it’s his indifference to pain, to life, to law?  Whatever it is, it totally escapes me.  When I examined him during the trial, what was it I detected in his eyes?  Yes, indifference, perhaps contempt and curiously, pity… yes, pity?  This is most peculiar and irregular, but not a shred of lust.  It's unfortunate that his servants, as he claimed, were lost during that sudden storm while crossing the Mulor River, that I can believe, I know how treacherous those waters can be.” Micen shifted in his seat.

03- YENIS

“I'd rather not inflict torture on one as beautiful as she, Yenis… unfortunately, as things stand; she's my only means of getting at the truth. Hmm, as for Fradel Rurik Korvald, good riddance to him, I say!" Micen scoffed, already having resolved to absolve the scholar of both the charges of murder and robbery once the woman's confession was wrung from her by torture.  “That certainly would be a lot less trouble than explaining why I convicted him. 

Of course, this means I'll have to produce the real culprit or, preferably, his corpse in order to wrap up the case.”

“Confound it!” his face darkening; Micen slammed his fist on the desk. “He's still guilty of the trespassing law!  This charge won't be so easy to dispose of, since it has already been disclosed to that imbecile of a Magistrate Turo, his entire staff and half the population of this Prefecture.” 

Fingering the indictment papers and documents from Turo he pondered, “For once the cursed fool has done a proper job of it, too.  The proof is indisputable.”

“Great; I'm sunk either way.” Micen again squirmed on his chair, nervously scratching his head to relieve the sudden tightness of his scalp. This fresh quandary unleashed a throbbing headache that could not be so easily rid.

“The punishment set for trespassing is decreed by His Royal Highness Zakhertan Yozdek and can only be rescinded by His Majesty.  The death verdict, then, it must be.  Yet, even if I double my guards and ensure my safety from this threat by the assassin, how can I put to death one that is expected for an audience at the Imperial Court, and carries a warrant of (regardless) safe passage from His Majesty?“ Micen let his gaze linger on the summons, placed just to the side.

“While upholding one ruling, I'll be forced to violate another!” 

The feeling of dread mounted in his heart compounded his urgent dilemma (sticky situation); in a state of intense agitation, he suddenly sprang to his feet and began pacing to and fro.  As he did this, he deliberated on his options, while animatedly sawing (cutting) the air with his hand.

“The importance of this prisoner, alone, still constrains me, in the absence of the Governor, to consult with the Legal Office of the Board of Punishments before rendering a final decision.  Yet, waiting for instructions could prove detrimental, even disastrous, since the lack of time precludes my waiting during any such action.  I must act responsibly at once.  What to do?  What to do?”

Prefect Micen Do (for hours on end) continued to wear down the carpet in serious contemplation until, spreading his hands out before him, helplessly, he (arrived at) reached the only plausible option (resolve):

“Fradel Rurik Korvald, (with suspended or pending guilty sentence,) under heavily armed guards’ custody, in all due haste, must be transported to the Capital Channing. Of course, with the official letter of explanation and all the amended trial documents accompanying him, Fradel could then be tried in Capital by the Legal Office itself, after the scholar's mandatory audience with His Majesty.

There remained only one snag (hindrance) to this otherwise perfect resolve:

 On route, should the prisoner escape custody because of interference from that formidable, red-haired devil-assassin or, band of ruffians, Micen could then be accused of incompetence in addition to his brutal treatment of the accused while the scholar was held in custody under his jurisdiction.

“Could I make amends by fairer treatment of him now?  Not likely,” MIcen shook his head.

“Everyone knows how these pampered literati sort, carry lasting grudges over slightest indiscretions. After my mistreatment of him, I am certain not to be spared of his wrath.

It’s certain that, once in Capital Channing, Fradel Rurik Korvald would use his influence on first secure pardon from His Majesty, after all, being a stranger to these parts, why wouldn’t such a valuable literate be absolved, for his ignorance, of a twenty-year-old trespassing law? This attained, he would then devise the means to beget (effect) my downfall.  In light of this, if I were to enable him a safe passage to Channing, wouldn’t I be hastening my own destruction or, at best, live the rest of my life in fear of the impending reprisals (retaliation) from his elite, powerful associates?”

“Hmm….  I would be much better off if this Fradel were to expire on the route to the Capital and... Fail to... meet... his... summons.  Yes!  Why the hell not!  Especially if he were to meet his demise after crossing into Tenzo Province…Ha!  His death would then become their problem. “

Prefect Micen gloated in self-satisfaction, sitting down once more to lean back confidently in his seat.

Success was dependent however on cunning strategy to effectively curtail or prevent any interference from the fiery red-haired menace.

Infuriatingly, another encumbrance (hitch) just then came to mind and Micen impatiently drummed his fingers on the desk, until he satisfactorily resolved (dealt with) this aspect. Even so, he was bit antsy about taking Mouro, (the best candidate for the job), into his confidence but unfortunately, both Zuko and Ro had suddenly expired last month, leaving Micen bit short of competent confidants.

04- MOURO KERR

“I wonder…can he be entirely trusted?  He has proven invaluable to me in the past, still; the gravity of this case constrains me to exercise utmost caution.  After all, I can't be too careful. I'll screen him first. “Micen made a mental note to allay (dispel) his fears.

Having resolved this hurdle also, he relaxed and lazily stretched his arms; his appetite regained, he called out to his orderly to bring him some tea and pastries.

 "Oh, and send a word to Mouro that I wish to see him at once." Micen, in afterthought, ordered. The orderly nodded in compliance and quickly withdrew.

 Micen Do rose confidently and strode over to the window.  Casting his gaze onto the withering Scholar trees he mused aloud, "I should have chopped them down and replaced them.  Perhaps some common poplars would be better?"   A sinister smile (smirk) visibly just then smeared his lips.

 

                                                                                       ~

(END OF SECTION 23)

 

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 9

Dokurak most thankful of the fact he had a sympathetic ear, with a secret purpose in mind had ceaselessly unburdened his heart: “Beginning a new life with only a measly pittance I had concealed from the authorities, I first purchased some worthless piece of land and after initializing irrigation, proper crop rotation and a great deal of work, managed to turn my luck around.  Soon the land began to yield a good return, enough at least for me to properly care for my children. “Dokurak, falling silent for a spell, looked down.

“Unfortunately, the former owner who’d sold the land to me for a song now regretted his hasty decision; additionally, most envious of me for the beget bounty (profits), have harbored a personal grudge against me.  That was the precursor of my fresh troubles.” Dokurek pensively shook his head.

"When my eventual pardon arrived, and I was allowed to settle permanently in this region I ignored my neighbor’s envy and animosity and falsely thought that the past had finally been put safely behind me. For a short while things looked promising. My sons, meanwhile, going against my will and ignoring my good counsel, chose not the agrarian (farming, rural) livelihood (occupation), but that of erudite (literate).  Then again, there was a measure of leniency in the law and a few good posts and desirable government positions were once again being made available to promising learnt (scholarly) candidates.    Gradually I relaxed my vigilance and even allowed my heart the joyful pride when one of my sons, Kuer, was promoted to a good position in the Magistrate's office.”

02- KUER

"How was I to know?  How could I phantom that some unscrupulous, grasping officials would, within a decade, instigate yet another onslaught against the Literate?  You see, in their greed, they had come to realize the immense profits that could be reaped from the land and property holdings of the successful intellectuals (scholars).”

"Zakhertan Yozdek, a military man and an autocratic landholder, had, despite his outward policies of leniency, still harbored in the crux of his being a deep contempt for the scholars because of their analytical (logical, critical) way of thinking and their accrued (amassed, retained in mind) vast reservoirs of knowledge of past rulers.  Meanwhile the extensive military campaigns he had waged to secure his throne and Wenjenkun’s borders had nearly depleted the treasury.  The Office of Revenue was already hard pressed to come up with additional sums via (by means of) burdening taxes and forced labor, and besides, extra funds were now needed for the new campaign against Korion.

“It took only a little persuasion and a staged incident by the new Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren, to make the literati into scapegoats once more.  Thus, the holdings of these affluent families were laid open for pillage and were sold at auction once the unfortunates had been blamed for the discontent, turmoil and hardships that plagued the country.”

Dokurak suddenly stopped talking and after his long, dubious look at Fradel, his voice tinged with jealousy, he said:

“You have really been most fortunate, Serek Vern (Fradel Rurik Korvald), to have escaped these disasters… these genocides.  I wish that I had been empowered to do the same for my sons.  You see, I had the foresight; right at the beginning of it all, I had read the signs and predicted the outcome. The ill-fate hovering at cusp (verge, edge), over the horizon, had left all too prevalent signs for anyone intelligent or discerning, to be wary.  Foolishly, though, I imagined that my pardon and the quiet, model (exemplary) life I had led, would exempt me and my two sons from all of this impending (looming) catastrophe” Dokurek shook his head then sullenly bit the corner of his lip.

"My second mistake was to place too great a store in my influential friends and the Magistrate that had mentored Kuer.  I could not envision that they, too, would collude with my enemies and turn on me for a share of the gain.  Of that, I am sure.  That oversight, unfortunately, was my gravest mistake and for years I've been eaten alive inside, bit by slow bit, by the burden of regret I've carried in my heart.” Dokuek desisting tears, wrung his hands.

"My heart aches so sorely (agonizingly) whenever I think of my two boys…my poor, innocent boys!  When the disaster fell Kuer had been married two years and, what's more, his beautiful, virtuous wife, Luokil, was carrying my grandson. “

03- KUER AND HIS WIFE LUOKIL

"But alas, my world once more collapsed when Kuer and Ruek were arrested and taken away in chains.  I knew that the charges brought against them were pure fabrication, that there was no solid evidence at all to convict them on, so I immediately dispensed generous sums in bribing the right officials trying to buy justice and extricate my sons from (false) blame. “

04-KUER AND RUEK FALSELY CHARGED 

 “All my efforts were in vain, however, for they wanted it all.  My property was confiscated in the blink of an eye and sold for the state's gain to the very same people who had laid the false charges against us.  I was again, shortly after,  reduced to a beggar's state.”

“Kuer was well liked and had countless influential friends but none; none dared to speak up on his behalf when...” Dokurek, abruptly stopping,  bit hard the corner of his lip; anger and despair registering in his pupils, he looked yet again  in the direction of the large mount, quite oblivious of the trickling blood that slowly made its way down his chin.

"You can't imagine the anguish I felt at seeing my boys, as they were dragged mercilessly down the street in chains, then …. Then… buried alive under that accursed big mound." Dokurek swallowed and pointed.

"But not a whimper escaped their lips.  My heroic sons!  I would have ended my own miserable existence right then and there, but I summoned all my courage to live on, enduring misery and humiliation in order to care for my unborn grandson.” Dokurek swallowed hard, and eyes brimming with tears, he dismally (gloomily) shook his head.

“Alas, as cruel fate is, he and his mother both died in childbirth. She went into labor soon after she had witnessed her husband's murder, you see."  Pointing to the two smaller mounds under the weeping willow tree, adjacent to the big mound, Dokurek lamented in a choked voice, "They lie there, close to my son Kuer and Ruek.  I cared for their graves all this time and offered continuous prayers for their comfortable existence in the afterlife.  Now I'm old, too old and too feeble to be of much use to anyone.  I would have joined them long ago, but I have not a soul to count on to bury these old bones and I have nothing left to barter with."  He buried his head in his hands.

"Oh, all those years, how could I have been so foolish? How could I have been so utterly beguiled?” He lamented. “It’s taken me a lifetime to see the error of my ways.  My eyes are finally opened. But what good is all that now? If only I’d listened to my younger brother’s words for, he was right all along, right about a lot of things.  I’m filled with endless remorse that eats at my soul?”

“Still Heaven, it seems, has at long last taken pity on me."  Dokurek abruptly looked up, smiling wryly and, with the back of his hand, wiped away the deluge of tears that soaked his pallid cheeks and neck.

 "For here you are … Good sir, can I impose on you, can I rely on your compassion and good graces to perhaps trouble you, to do me this one last great favor?"

Fradel was nonplused by Dokurek's imploring gaze and, understanding his meaning, frowned.  "I shall not be party to your murder sir.  Surely you have many long years still ahead.  Do not despair.  You have persevered this long, undergone so much; perhaps an emancipated future..."

Before Fradel could finish the old man had flashed a blade he had concealed deep within the folds of his rags.  With a swiftness that belied his age, giving Fradel no chance to move, Dokurek buried the knife hilt-deep into his chest. But missing his heart just barely, he lived long enough to still implore Serek (Fradel).

"I do not deserve your kindness, sir. Ugg…. Still, I know you will not disappoint me.  Far too long have I endured this loneliness, burdensome guilt and unbearable heartache?  I make no excuses now and accept full blame for my past miserable life choices. Having paid some penance; let me embrace fate and join them now.  Please, pray that we all find peace in the… afterlife." He gasped his last breath and, (blood oozing from his mouth,) was no more.

Fradel had done the right thing by Dokurek and, although he had buried the old man's body in a mound next to his grandson and daughter-in-law under the same willow, all rites duly carried out, he still carried away with him the pain of Dokurek’s misspent life.

 

                                                                                    ~

Fradel was from then on burdened with a series of fresh concerns.  The guilt ate at him to the crux of his heart: guilt for being spared, for having led a privileged life of ignorance while so many had perished.  Fradel now pondered: Had he (Fradel) the right to do what he planned?  Wouldn't his intended actions unleash yet another bout of purges resulting in blood baths and fresh persecution of the Literati? 

This was at the root of Fradel's dilemma as he rode away from the graves beside the ruined hut.

Fradel, tersely now, as if with a special understanding, nodded.  Yes, things being the way they are, whatever I do will have little bearing.  The outcome would invariably be the same.  So long as evil reigns (rule) supreme and corruption festers like locusts on this land, salvation will be a distant dream for everyone.

 

                                                                                         

(END OF SECTION 9)

                                                                                              ~