LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION 24

“He is a shrewd villain; if he had witnessed the whole thing, what sinister reason did have in falsifying, his report to the captain?" Briac interjected, nonplused, as he cupped his chin in his hand and wondered out loud.

"And in such a way that, in the end, he came out of it totally blameless himself," Frastos added wryly. “Furthermore, imagine the captain, chalking his report up to a misinterpretation of obvious signs… Misinterpretation my pew!  It was unadulterated malice, nothing less.” Frastos shook his head; then with fresh concern, knit his brows.

01- FRASTOS - JP 05

“But what persuaded, our most discerning captain, to readily accept Tizan’s incongruous (absurd) version?  So long as I've known him, Zunrogo’s always been a stickler for exactitude in reports; this is quite uncharacteristic of him.  Why would he…"

"Don't you get it?”  Briac interrupted disdainfully.  "The captain is much shrewder than Tizan, and the Lieutenant is, far too cunning to try deceiving Zunrogo.  If you ask me, this slander was a slip-up, an act of desperation."

"What desperation?"

Briac ignored the question.  "Yes, it shows that Tizan's weakening, running out of time and patience, hard pressed as he is, to discredit me in Captain's eye.  No, you're not the one who is being targeted here, not really.  I know for certain now that he's planning to harm me yes, but more importantly, and during this assignment, he aims (intends) to permanently replace me."

"What?"  Frastos looked up sharply.  "How on earth could you, from this, deduce that?"

"You see," Briac smiled tightly, "there's a lot more involved here than you can imagine. He means to do away with me, all right.  He's made a go at it once before, and I don't mean this wig, or this getup."  Meeting Frastos' baffled gaze, he grimaced sourly and dismissed it with a wave of his hand, "Never mind.  It will take too long to explain (tell).”

“As for your unpleasant experience of this morning, I suspect his motive was to make you squirm for the sake of pure amusement.  You see, his cruel nature craves, demands it every now and then.  He thrives on others' humiliation and misery, even if they did nothing to incur his animosity."

Briac continued with a dull voice, "I'm certain the Cheron incident played no part in this, for if it had, you would have had a taste of his real malice (wickedness) long before this day.  You know that patience is not one of his winning qualities.  The Cheron incident happened quite some time ago, two and a half months have passed, I believe.  Still, be warned just the same and watch your back from now on for, once Tizan turns on you, regardless of the reason, your life may well be forfeit."

After some pause for thought, Briac continued, "However, I think I can make a safe guess as to the reason for his recent animosity towards you since, through no fault of my own I, too, have incurred that animosity.  Ambitious as he is, he seeks to inveigle himself significantly more into the captain's good graces and confidence, with my ignominy and trashing my long-term loyal service. “

“Since I've been most careful so far to give him no leeway, his subtle campaign of psychological warfare has been kept in check, though not rendered ineffective.  I'm not as crude or simple minded as I may seem at the outset. “Briac looked intently at Frastos.

“That's a protective facade I find most useful in fending off aggression."  He then grimaced magnanimously, "I'm being frank with you now because I'm sympathetic towards you and I trust you implicitly.  You are a forthright fellow with a no-nonsense attitude, characteristics that I very much admire in a man."

"I guess I'm as guilty as the rest, for underestimating you." Frastos apologized.

"I sure was taken in by your pretense.  In fact, your discerning thoughts are exceedingly deep."

“And shrewd and calculating.” he wanted to add but proposed instead, "I hope you overlook my past offenses and will consider me as your good and loyal friend."

"I always have." Briac smiled.  "I judge a man by what is in his heart.  There is no need to apologize.  However, putting all this aside, I'd like to caution you to be wary.  You see, you've been with me a lot lately and your attempts to shield me from injustice have, no doubt, confirmed Tizan's suspicions that we are in cahoots, to say the least, and are plotting his denigration.  That is why he acted first to emasculate us.  That way, when he accuses us sometime in the future of some grievous, phantom crime, our attempts to exonerate ourselves will avail us nothing.”

“Do not underestimate the danger you are in.” Briac added gravely and nodded. “That would be the worst mistake you could make.  And don't think that he can be dealt with easily, for I've witnessed countless others who have tried to undermine him only to perish as easily as if he had swatted a fly.”

“I can't stress this point enough.  That is why, for the time being, I'm advocating patience.” Briac, for a time, lowered his head in weighty (reflective) silence.

"I suppose he forced every detail of the truth out of you?"  Receiving a nod from Frastos, Briac continued, "Then he had this fun at our expense."

Disdain tinged Briac’ voice: “That should satiate him for the time being, until he craves for more."

Seeing the anger building up anew in Frastos, Briac consoled him, "Oh, don't blame yourself.  Believe me, there's very little else you could have done.  I know full well how persuasive he can be.  He has few equals in that respect.  Concentrate now on sweet revenge, on devising a strategy to curb or eliminate his next cruel ploy (devilish scheme) before it renders irreversible damage. I can't help feeling responsible, however, that I've somewhat inadvertently dragged you into this peril.  I should have exercised more discretion and never asked you to make that promise to me."

“What promise?” Frastos looked up, astonished, but on second thought decided to say, to deny nothing.

 “Let him go on believing what he must; he's partially right, therefore, we should work in unison to alleviate this dangerous circumstance (fix, situation).  Besides, he's been at this a lot longer than I have and I should utilize his knowledge and resources.  Who knows, he may have some plausible recourse up his sleeve that will turn out to be beneficial.  All that matters is, the end-result and I don't care who I must team up with to achieve it.

 "I'm afraid you're next." Frastos fixed his eyes on Briac and ended the prolonged silence.  "Any minute now the captain will be sending for you.  He was a bit displeased with your indiscretions anyhow and now he's been fueled up to reprimand you.  I suspect he'll chastise you well and good and then order you to behave from now on with the decorum befitting the illustrious scholar, Fradel Rurik Korvald.  But that's the least of your worries.  Eh?"

Briac nodded, "Yeah, the least of my worries."

                                                                              ~

After this episode Briac trusted Frastos more and more until Frastos had won Briac's complete confidence.  This led them to become bosom buddies, whereupon Briac began confessing to Frastos his innermost secrets bit by bit every night until there was nothing left unsaid.  Recruited into Briac's cause, Frastos schemed with him by lamplight on, how best to contact the agents of His Excellency Egil Viggoaries once they'd reached Jukurok.

Since several checkpoints, in effect strongholds, lay ahead, Fradel Rurik Korvald's papers, along with the others', were entrusted to the captain for safekeeping. After passing the last checkpoint at Zakoz they had already gone on some measure when four or five guards had emerged from the gate to race after them at top speed.

"I wonder what this is all about." Tizan grumbled as he looked back at them.

"It should be obvious."  Zunrogo grimaced wryly and ordered the group to a halt.

Meeting up with them, the Lieutenant from the checkpoint dismounted and, prostrating himself, greeted the captain.

02- GURARD

Kneeling on one knee, he then greeted Briac, believing him to be Fradel Rurik Korvald, and delivered his message directly to him. "Our Garrison Commander Taicor apologizes profusely for having missed your illustrious visit and respectfully invites Fradel Rurik Korvald and the Captain of his party to be his honored guests at a feast.  If the honored sirs will deign to come with me, I will escort you back to Commander Taicor's private offices and offer you all the hospitality that is at his disposal."

Briac froze in his saddle, not knowing how to respond.

"Please convey my sincerest apologies to Garrison Commander Taicor." Zunrogo rode forward to reply.  "We are pressed for time and Fradel Rurik Korvald regretfully declines his gracious offer."

"Sir," the Lieutenant looked up, flustered, to address the captain, "The Commander will be very displeased with me.  Can I not, in any way, persuade you to…?"

Zunrogo's stern look cut him off short, "I'm afraid that it’s totally out of the question, Lieutenant.  We cannot make allowances in the least.  I'm sure that Commander Taicor will not wish to incur a delay in the illustrious Fradel Rurik Korvald's adherence to the summons from His Royal Highness."

"May I offer a thousand apologies for my oversight; Captain."  The Lieutenant bowed his head (in resignation).

"However, you may relay to the Commander that Fradel Rurik Korvald will be more able to oblige him on his return trip, when there will be no pressing engagements."  Zunrogo Tugo's tone was softer and more amiable and the Lieutenant, satisfied at having at least some good news to relay, wished them a safe journey on behalf of his Commander, mounted his horse and rode back to the checkpoint.

Briac, watching the men raising a cloud of dust in their wake, was relieved and, in part, disappointed.

Later, the Captain took some time to explain his reasoning to the real scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald, "I declined that offer on your behalf, sir, for good reason.  That Garrison Commander, Taicor, is well known to be a grasping opportunist and not at all trustworthy; I advise you to avoid him on your return journey as well."

Fradel Rurik Korvald (Nevetsecnuac) thanked the captain graciously for his protection and sound advice.

Briac, witnessing this uncharacteristically polite exchange by the captain, twisted his mouth and looked away in disdain. “As if he'd be in any danger!” he huffed.

 “It’s my neck that's on the line, not his. But the Captain Zunrogo doesn't seem to have any confidence in my ability, to pull it off; as if it takes any special talent to be him.”  He stole a scornful look at Fradel Rurik Korvald.

 “He's only an overrated scholar.  Anyone can recite some lines and look arrogant.  But was that a deliberate mistake (I saw the captain make,) the captain made at that last checkpoint, when he’d introduced Fradel Rurik Korvald as Frastos and Frastos as me?”

“Ah, Briac, you're being far too paranoid; after all, we were in a rush.”  Briac dismissed the thought and spurred his horse forward to align himself with Frastos where he could spend his time gossiping and complaining to a sympathetic ear.

                                                                             ~

"This may be our only opportunity."  Frastos had anxiously sought out Briac everywhere throughout the Inn to tell him, "I've just come from the captain.  Tizan has been dispatched on an errand, probably to book our passage on a riverboat.  Because he insists on departing early tomorrow morning, the captain has taken the scholar to show him some beauty spots Jukurok harbor is famous for.  They won't be back for hours."

"Right, this is it." Briac concurred, springing to his feet.  "We've been waiting for this chance all along.  Maybe you should stay back, though, in case they return earlier than expected and you can cover up for me."

"Nothing doing, I’m coming with you.  If we are together, I can't be accused of disobeying orders.  Even if they come back prematurely, we could certainly offer some reasonable excuse for our absence from this Inn.  Besides," Frastos smiled mischievously, "you may need my assistance should you be assailed (attacked) by beautiful women again on the way."

"You are right of course brother, but I can hardly go out like this, not in this garb.  Disguised as him, I'll be risking danger at every turn.  We need to first…”

"I'm way ahead of you, brother." Frastos held up his hand, smugly interrupting him.

 "It’s all been taken care of and, there's a bundle of apparel (clothes) in our room already for you to change into.  I'm afraid there was nothing much we can do about the wig, except hide it under the broad brimmed hat I also procured for you."  Frastos winked and smiled.

 

"It seems you've thought of everything.  You are truly an indispensable ally.  I'm indebted to you, brother." Briac thanked Frastos as he headed hastily back to the room.

"We'll sneak out the back way to avoid any curiosity." Frastos coolly suggested after cautiously closing the door behind them.

"Now, hurry up and change."

As Briac complied he asked nonchalantly, "Do you still remember the password? Oops!"  Briac'd inadvertently let out another secret.

"Of course, who could forget?  'Plum blossoms adorn the beauty passing under them.'” Frastos coolly answered. 

“I must have accidentally disclosed (blabbed) it, last time I was totally (intoxicated) inebriated. Oh well, he would have eventually heard of it anyway.”  Briac shrugged his shoulders and, wiping the worry lines from his face, smiled sheepishly at Frastos.

Originally Briac had intended on leaving Frastos outside the temple gates to keep watch since there was no need yet for him to be privy to everything.

“Frasto’s integration into the Do-ki spy network should be gradual.” Briac’d told himself.  In truth his caution had stemmed from pure greed and, in his reluctance to share the anticipated reward money.

Frastos, when he had been informed of this plan, had pretended not to notice this blatant insult to his character.  “So, he still distrusts me after all the great lengths I've gone to cover for him.  You would leave me out in the cold, wouldn't you?  No doubt you'd also discard me the minute I've outlived my usefulness.  Your loyalty is only to gold, and you can drown in it for all I care.”

03-FRASTOS - JP 19

"Right, well, aren't you finished yet?"  Suppressing his inner animosity, Frastos nervously paced the floor.

"Almost,” Briac finished tying on the belt.

"Well, how do I look?"  He spread his hands and twirled like a bridegroom in his finery.

"Like a beauty who's about to pass under some plum blossoms." Frastos grimaced wryly.

"Yeah, right; and are you, my beloved?" Briac responded in cold sarcasm.

"Touché.", Frastos relented.

 As they were passing through the door, Frastos turned to ask, “Why plum blossoms?"

"Imagine if you will this incredible, exhilarating scene in historical era: A time before the most crucial (decisive) battle, the legendary divisions (regiments) getting ready for the surprise vanguard attack.  It’s springtime and the crisp, morning air is rocked by the thundering drums, the stamping of the horse's hooves and the marching feet, as they all prepare for the most dangerous undertaking.  Subsequently, as they march through the gate, they pass under the canopy of plum blossoms, the tall, ancient trees lining the road, fully bedecked as they are with these fragrant pristine white blooms…. The vibrations of their progression, begetting torrents of blossoms, the same blossoms that adorn the Heavenly courtyard, begin to rain down upon them like tears.  Lingering at the gate are their loved ones, (old man, women and children, beautiful young girls) all, looking longingly with dismay after them, their painful hearts not noticing how they, too, are being bedecked by these same blossoms."

"I think that playing the scholar, Fradel Rurik Korvald, has finally gone to your head; it has turned you into a hopelessly romantic’ lyricist." Frastos with a wide grin, teased Briac.

Then looking away, he disdainfully (derisively) grunted, "It’s more likely that they selected that comparison line because every temple in these parts has planted plum trees in their courtyard and one can use that analogy to make the contact without arousing any suspicion from onlookers."

"That's one thing that I quite dislike about you, Frastos." Briac frowned.  "You always take such a straight, dim view of everything, almost to the point of being completely drab.  Lighten up!  Life has color."

"So now you're an artist as well."  Frastos' mockery ended the exchange on a sour note.

 

                                                                                   ~

 

(END OF SECTION 24)

 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)

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