LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION 21

 When dawn broke Zunrogo promptly knocked at Fradel Rurik Korvald's door.

Permission granted, he entered with a smile on his lips, carrying a bundle in his hand, trailed by the servant boy, burdened with a generous array of breakfast victuals on a tray.

Scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald had just finished his packing, having risen early in anticipation of this meeting.

01- ZUNROGO TUGO JP 4

After an exchange of polite greetings, "I took the liberty of ordering you a wholesome breakfast with local cuisine." Zunrogo grimaced, signaling the boy to put the tray on the table and to leave the room at once.

As soon as the door was closed behind him, Zunrogo advanced on Fradel and courteously presented him with the bundle, urging him to try it on.

"I thank you for your thoughtful gift but since I am already dressed…" Fradel could not resist teasing him.

Zunrogo abruptly halted his ready rebuke (and the persuasive argument on his tongue) when he noted the slight glint (twinkle) in Fradel's eyes and understood his jest.  Smiling, he evenly informed Fradel that his account had been settled in full and that, as soon as he was ready, they would depart.

Then, officiously declaring that he still needed to see some last-minute details, he headed out the door before Fradel could thank him for his troubles.

Back in his room, Zunrogo expediently wrapped up all the loose ends. The Innkeeper Kjeld Rosko, having received assurances from the captain himself that his captive family, including his adored infant son, would all be released the moment after their departure, nodded his head in gratitude and then contentedly left the room.

As Kjeld headed down the long hallway, however, a sudden concern clouded his face and he, abruptly for a spell, stayed his step; slight trepidation, almost a glint of fear, fleetingly registering in his pupils as he with lowered head deliberated on the Kozur’s viable rescue plan. “The captain, now there's someone to be reckoned with!”  Kjeld, nevertheless, could not hold back a shiver.

This business of the guard Tizan, however, staying behind to ensure that there was no disruption or deception, seemed reasonable yet; it still put Kjeld Rosko a bit on his unease. With each step, a kind of needling feeling that he could not rightly put a finger on, etched a deeper frown on Kjeld’s face.

“It nearly killed me to be so reticent (taciturn, aloof, quiet); but at least my disguise was effective. And when have the Kozurs ever failed me, or anyone? Now, stop all your needless worrying!” Kjeld admonished self.  Besides, he was certain they wouldn't dare try anything too drastic with Magistrate Liros there; but more importantly, fortuitously, he had the backing of Kozurs.

Kjeld’s fears, bit more assuaged (eased, lessened), he rushed his steps to meet the affiliate agent and possibly receive (acquiring) the long awaited, anticipated, good news, news that his family was safe and away from the perilous predicament. He would be joining them when this whole business was satisfactorily dealt with. Meanwhile, with the captain and his other brutes gone, this Tizan thug, then, could aptly be handled (properly deceived, duped) by the Kozurs. 

02- KJELD ROSKO WAITS FOR THE KOZUR AGENT

Having received secret notification, that the clandestine meeting would instead, take place in the (crypt) cellar, a covert room accessed only by a trap door well concealed behind the stacks of forte (specialty) wine barrels, Kjeld headed straight down there. As Kjeld in partial darkness waited for the agent to show up, seated at the table, his fingers nervously tapping the table, his wild imagination meanwhile carefully enumerated the last week’s odd events. Unbidden, one unsubstantiated fact suddenly snuck (stole) to mind and so, the worry lines once more got etched in his brow (forehead); nevertheless, he strove to ease his fears: “Besides, haven't I dealt with far worse situations and came out of it sailing?  In this line of business, it’s to be expected.  I just hope Leon makes good time, for then…” Kjeld looked at the door, nervous but still satisfied. “Yes, then I can still expect to be amply, if not well compensated for all my troubles and inconvenience. Pity, though, this place would be so destroyed!”

                                                                                 ~

Zunrogo was fastening his jeweled broadsword onto his waist when Tizan suddenly appeared at the door.  He beckoned the guard and signaled him to close the door.

 "Well, is everything all set?"

"Yes sir.  I'll be joining you on the road after the successful conclusion of my task."

"It is imperative that those in question be eliminated without a trace.  None are to survive, understand?"

"You needn’t warn me of its importance, sir." Tizan responded without a shred of conscience.  "Please go with an easy mind.  It (sudden explosion resulting in fire) will be made to look like an accident, warranting no investigation at all.  However, if you wish, I could plant certain incriminating evidence to involve…”

"No, that will not be necessary." The captain cut him off.  "Don't deviate from the original plan."

                                                                                   ~

After breakfasting and having sent his luggage on ahead, Nevetsecnuac (Fradel), now disguised as one of the palace guards, retrieved the papers from their hiding place and secured them in the inner pocket of his garb (uniform) that were, in fact, more comfortable and more suitable for traveling than his cumbersome, restrictive scholar's attire.

After a cursory look around to see to it that nothing was left behind, he closed the door quietly behind him and quickly descended the stairs.  Meeting the Captain in the lobby ready and waiting, he was then (shepherded) lead to the outside where men and horses awaited in readiness of the departure.

03- NEVETSECNUAC IN IMPERIAL UNIFORM

Fradel Rurik Korvald (Nevetsecnuac) had been forewarned to a certain degree that there would be two guards flanking him, along on the journey, with another to be joining them later, but these two who came to smart attention were not what he had expected.  One he had never seen before and the other.  His eyes rested on the figure of Briac, who had been disguised to look like scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald.

 "I went along with your suggestion of wearing these clothes, sir, but this, this is intolerable!" Nevetsecnuac (Fradel) burrowed his cold gaze on the captain, not flinching.

This unexpected, irate, moral indignation from the supercilious scholar put Zunrogo (for a spell,) at a complete loss for words.

As Captain of the Palace Guards, the most elite force in Channing, and the secret member of the ruthless Black Band Guard, which was Sovereign Zakhertan Yozdek’s personal militia, Zunrogo was the fourth most feared, most powerful, invincible warrior/statesman in Wenjenkun; right after Sovereign, the Minister of Internal Security Egil Vigoaries and The Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren.  No other had ever been so brazened enough to stand up to or, been in, least defiance of Zunrogo and lived; more astonishingly still, Fradel (Nevetsecnuac), with his features set in firm defiance obdurately had demanded an explanation from Zunrogo.

“Are you goading (provoking) me; do you have a secret wish for death?”

"Sir, this is where I draw the line.” Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) undaunted by Zunrogo’s menacing glower, (look of daggers) obstinately grumbled. “I will not, in all good conscience, have another’s life be put in jeopardy on account of me!"

Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) was stanchly (resolutely) considering, rescinding their prior arrangement when the captain, with a curt gesture of his hand, silenced him and roughly pulled him aside. Pinning his face right into Fradel’s, Zunrogo, gritting his teeth, threatened: "You would have been instantly slayed, chopped down for this insubordination; now act like a proper soldier (guard) or else!”

But then, quickly curtailing his fiery temper, in a more moderate tone, Zunrogo reasoned: “I know how it looks, but I assure you, sir, it is necessary."  His cutting tone, nevertheless, was a warning to Fradel, to back off, that, if necessary, he would be carried off, trussed, and bound.

Bearing in mind that he was supposed to be an arrogant but a mild-mannered scholar, Nevetsecnuac (as Fradel), biting his lip, he now checked his derisive (scornful) rebuke.  At that juncture (point in time), a low murmur drew his attention to the side door of the inn.  Nevetsecnuac’s keen eyes caught a fleeting shadow just before the individual darted inside and completely disappeared.  He let it pass.

"I thought you said that there was no real danger," more composed now, Nevetsecnuac (Fradel) turned to address Zunrogo.

"Less for them than you," Zunrogo answered irritably, indicating Briac with his chin.  Raising his voice slightly, on pretext, he admonished Fradel, "Now, sir, I will not have you undermining my authority and demoralizing my men with all your questions."

Fradel Rurik Korvald (Nevetsecnuac) checked his temper as well, understanding at once that the rebuke was more for the benefit of his double and that there was something graver at stake here.

“Briac, the guard chosen to impersonate you, is the one best suited for this.  His selection was made only after serious consideration."  Zunrogo shifted his body slightly, shielding his face from the view of the guards.  He looked meaningfully at Fradel Rurik Korvald, his gaze and fierce eyes speaking the words that could not be freely uttered, darkness, treachery; furthermore, it warned, stay out of what does not concern you; this turncoat (collaborator) will soon get just his desserts.

Comprehending, Nevetsecnuac (Fradel) turned and looked at Briac with an impassive, blank expression. The guard's face completely ashen, his’s eyes at first looked strangely pained and grave then got filled with loathing when they met Fradel's, after which, he lowered his head abjectly.

Nevetsecnuac (Fradel) returned his expressionless gaze back to Zunrogo, who’d this entire period scrutinized him like a hawk with the cruel half-smile plastered on his lips.  Behind the Captain's seemingly stern mask, his eyes betrayed a profound, impenetrable darkness carrying a brutal, implicit threat not only for Briac but also for Fradel.

04- FRADEL RURIK KORVALD (NEVETSECNUAC) IN ARMY UNIFORM

Unflinching, Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) affably (genially) smiled at Zunrogo and he, relenting, perfunctorily smiled back. But underneath the seeming cordiality, Zunrogo pondered. “Yes, you are more than what you seem.  You are no ordinary scholar.  Your aim is much higher. I will therefore watch you, watch you very carefully, Fradel Rurik Korvald, or whatever your real name may be.  It bothers me greatly when I can see that you are not afraid of death, but I will find out the reason why, before this expedition concludes.”

Outwardly tranquil, as if his prior ambiguity had allayed (dispelled), Zunrogo nodded, "I'm glad we finally understand each other; now we can quickly put all this unpleasantness behind us and amicably proceed; as I am most anxious to get started on this trip."

Turning, Zunrogo signaled (cued) the groom to bring forth Briac’s strong steed, inclined his head politely and invited (disguised) Fradel Rurik Korvald to mount up.

 Alternately, Briac was helped by one of the grooms, to mount Scholar Fradel’s relatively inferior mare.

 

                                                                                   ~

(END OF SECTION 21)

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC- THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 10

                                                              

When the long, arduous day's ride finally brought Fradel and Svein (Nevetsecnuac) to a fork in the road, they veered to the left. This path eventually brought them to an old, established Inn.  Fradel at this point graciously prevailed upon Svein to stay the night there as his guest, to allow him a chance, as he put it, to reciprocate in small measure for the kindness he had received.  Most anxious to continue on his way, Nevetsecnuac was of a mind to refuse but Fradel's elegant, charming, polished manner of speech and his sincerity intrigued him and so he acquiesced.

During the course of supper in a private enclave of the dining hall, mollified by warm food and drink, they entered into a most delightful and enlightening discourse.  Moreover Fradel, for the first time in a long while, reveled in the fervent exchange of a superior intellect that shared his viewpoint of life in general.

 As the evening progressed, Nevetsecnuac listened with rapt enthusiasm and enjoyment to the pearls of wisdom which issued forth in an endless string from Fradel's mouth as the scholar entered a more relaxed and inebriated frame of mind.  Once in his elated mood Fradel had even composed, on the spur of the moment, a poem to commemorate their meeting and this budding friendship.  Nevetsecnuac listened with delight, finding something new to praise with every quatrain.

When it was his turn to respond in kind, Svein (Nevetsecnuac) quickly composed a short, brilliant piece that was so greatly appreciated by Fradel that he drew out his writing implements and copied it to a piece of silk so he could carry it with him next to his heart.  By then both were feeling euphoric from the wine.

Feeling the need for some fresh air, Nevetsecnuac was about to go outside for a stroll and enjoy the full moonlight when his keen senses suddenly alerted him to an eavesdropper behind the partition.  Edging nearer he discreetly brought this to Fradel's attention.  The two exchanged knowing glances.

 Svein (Nevetsecnuac) tensed, about to spring into action and teach this snoop (eavesdropper) a lesson he soon would not forget when Fradel gripped Svein's shoulder and decisively shook his head.

 Why should they bother?  After all, spies planted in sporadic locations were the norm.  With unspoken understanding they continued their conversation as before, soon driving the ignoramus behind the wall into a stupor.  With this objective gained, they quietly slipped outside for a bit of fresh air and a more liberal exchange.

Their feet crunched over the stubble of sod as they skirted a small, wooded area to find a pleasant, open spot wherein to converse more freely.  One topic led to another till Fradel’s unexpected sullen disclosure, of the reason for his journey to Court, was revealed.  Secretly elated at this fortuitous opportunity, Nevetsecnuac asked if he may, upon returning to their rooms, be permitted to view the Official Summons.

"But there is no need for you to wait; the moon’s luminosity makes it perfectly apt for reading it here."  At once Fradel Rurik Korvald produced a leather envelope from an inner pocket and, withdrawing a parchment scroll, presented it to Svein.

Svein in swift succession read the contents which went something like this: 

“PUT FORTH BY THE SPECIAL RECOMMENDATION OF HIS EXCELLENCE LAMONT GUDAREN, PRIME MINISTER OF WENJENKUN, AND THE HONORABLE ZAUR SUI, VICE MINISTER OF THE OFFICE OF CEREMONY: THE ILLUSTIOUS SCHOLAR FRADEL RURIK KORVALD IS HEREBY SUMMONED TO APPEAR BEFORE THE ROYAL COURT IN AUDIENCE BEFORE HIS MOST GRACIOUS IMPERIAL MAJESTY, EMPEROR OF WENJENKUN, ZAKHERTAN YOZDEK.  ALL SUBJECTS OF HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS ARE HEREBY ORDERED TO ALLOW FREE PASSAGE AND RENDER ALL REQUIRED ASSISTANCE TO THE BEARER IN HIS SUBMISSION TO THESE ORDERS.”

 Appended to the script was the date of his required appearance, various seals and the insignia of the Office of Ceremony.

Despite his cool outward demeanor, a raging fury welled up in Nevetsecnuac's chest. "Hmm.", was his outward, seemingly impassive response however, when in the end, he handed the scroll back to Fradel. 

Silence reigned as each pondered on the next move. Neither of them wanted to head back, quite content with the tranquil solace darkness provided.  Then with mutual intent their feet began to guide them towards the cluster of trees with only the sound of loud crunching underfoot.  Somewhere an owl hooted. The two halting, cast their gaze to that distant pitched spot, lost in profound thought. 

Multifaceted emotions again suddenly taking hold, Fradel chewed the corner of his lip in bitterness and indignation. "I've been forced out into the world out of my serene existence and lost three good servants on what is probably a momentary whim on Zakhertan Yozdek’s part.  It’s more likely that, by the time I reach the Capital, fickle political winds will render all my crowning literary work superfluous." Fradel had unintentionally grumbled his complaint out loud.  He smiled abashedly.  “Dokurek's right, from everything I’ve seen or heard; Sovereign Zakhertan's moods are as changeable as the wind, a misbegotten, accursed wind!” 

Fradel walked to the edge of the creek, squatted and, dipping his hand into the cool, refreshing water, let it run through his fingers before he touched his lips. Pondering on the recently implemented policies of leniency, touted as a new age of furthering of the Arts, Fradel now discounted it as a passing phase.  His new knowledge gave it a limited life span, a policy he should be wary of.  He took no comfort knowing that he was relatively safe from any danger or reprisals.

 No wonder his work had been so highly praised in the Capital, it was harmless and decidedly non-political.  He hung his head deeply perturbed and a bit ashamed.  Unwittingly he had been a collaborator of the ruthless usurper and murdering cronies. 

Oh, villainous times, villainous Zakhertan Yozdek!

 Suddenly it became clear to him, what, he must do. A yearning, no, an overwhelming urgency beckoned him to act on it now. But instead, he felt frustrated, stymied by the distance to the Capital that could not be traversed on mere will.

Patience!  He nodded, as at that moment an overwhelming loneliness flooded his heart, washing away his anger. 

Could he not at least unburden his indignant soul to this Svein Therran?  He discreetly eyed Svein.

Instinctively, from the very first moment Fradel had laid eyes on this hero rushing gallantly to his rescue, he'd felt overawed, and trusting of this young man.  Svein was quite unlike anyone he had ever come across.  Destiny had brought them together for a purpose, he was sure of that.

NEVETSECNUAC RUSHES TO RESCUE

This feeling, that they were of one heart and mind, had persisted despite Svein's reserve and guarded words.  Again, he half turned and looked, this time more closely at Svein, who with a lowered head appeared lost in thought.

What ails, you, friend? Fradel inwardly queried, as he rose to his feet and walked back.  He had resolved to confide in Svein come-what-may and learn at the same time of his companion's grave concerns.  He needed desperately to bear his soul to another soul, to purge this oppressive guilt and shame from his heart and perhaps even gain some measure of absolution; yet when he made the attempt, as if in defiance of his will, the words stuck in his throat. 

Have I the right to involve him?  Fradel hesitated. Gallant, the hero that Svein was, he would hasten to help him once more.  But what if he's implicated anyway, on account of this brief association with me?  Should I at least warn him of the probable danger that lies ahead?  Fradel looked away and frowned.

Back then while travelling on the road, Fradel's deep lines on his face, and his detached disposition with sporadic, silent musings had already betrayed his raging inner conflicts, to Svein (Nevetsecnuac).  He could rightly guess at what was at the root but only now, resolved himself to broaching the subject with Fradel. 

This mutual intent resulted in the subsequent moments with Fradel gradually and with increasing ease, unburdening himself of his concerns, his innermost, private thoughts all save that of the revised purpose of his trek to the Capital.  After the release of some pent-up anger, Fradel continued, wallowing in self-reproach, to disclose how his heart was laden with oppressive guilt after being blinded for so long to the ugly, painful truths.  While his privileged, carefree existence had allowed him to compose frivolous poems and essays in adoration of idealized beauty and nature, worthier literati had been persecuted ruthlessly and made to suffer the torments of the damned for their outspoken loyalty and fearless outcries for justice.

Clearly, he was suffering from survivor’s guilt and was seeking condemnation; but Svein appeared non-judgmental through it all, responding only with words of solace.  His reasoning and wise arguments eventually restored to Fradel the peace of mind and the absolution he'd so desperately craved.  What’s more, Svein's timely disclosure that he, too, had just emerged from seclusion and his candid confession that he was just as ignorant of the events of the last two decades, bonded the two in everlasting friendship. 

Fradel was elated to know that he was not caught alone in this web of ignorance, despair, guilt and soul sapping dilemma.  His brain at once crowded with a million urgent queries wanting to know more; however, understanding Svein’s reserve he restrained his curiosity and instead, related Dokurek's tragic story which started it all, to Svein.

FRADEL

Svein (Nevetsecnuac) listened in silence touched by the narrative.  Sharing the same indignation, inwardly and vehemently they cursed Zakhertan Yozdek and his evil regime, each resolving to avenge the suffering masses.  Echoing their thoughts, gusting winds just then arose, stirring dust and debris up into their faces while the moon took refuge behind the congregating billows of clouds.

The mounting chill of the antagonistic night eventually forced them to return to the inn for warmth and shelter.  They quietly entered their room, taking care to then to startle awake and next, aptly deceive the spy with their unending, monotonous(dull), trifling verbal exchange.   Eventually claiming fatigue, Svein and Fradel bedded in their respective places; they then patiently waited for the spy to leave his post and presumably, be on his way to relay his lackluster(dull) report to his superior. 

 

Long after the spy’s retreat, in the small hours, as sleep still averted Svein and Fradel, the two got out of bed and once more sat across the table; putting their heads together, in partial darkness, they then began conversing in earnest. It was then that Fradel Rurik Korvald related all the pertinent gossip and anecdotes he’d picked up along the way; as well as some of his atypical experiences after he left Dokurek's burial mound.  These later events in part paralleled those of the scholar's purges.

The roaring wind outside thrashed the branches wildly against the window shutters and created such a noisy pandemonium that they felt freer to delve into more dangerous (issues) topics. In this way, by and by Svein (Nevetsecnuac) came to know how all religious affiliations save the ones embraced by Zakhertan Yozdek, over the course of his reign, had been systematically rooted out (purged), their leaders banished and with the temple structures all raised to dust or ash, the barren lands (real state) were then acquisitioned by the new gentry (nobility).  

Meanwhile, number of cities had been wiped out (erased from the map) on Zakhertan's whim, complete villages burned or plowed into the dust, all, for building of military strategic strongholds, for personal gain or for simply to gratify a trifling private vendetta.  One such example, the Lexox City, once boasting the finest historical sights of the last dynasty, had its walls pulled down, the buildings demolished, and the stones used to fill its moats.  Its common citizens had then been sold into slavery, once prominent members (those that had defied Zakhertan during his ascension to definitive power) mercilessly slaughtered, dismembered or decapitated, in mass executions. 

“Adding insult to injury, countless lives were lost even in the surrounding regions on an ongoing suspicion of supposed intended uprisings, (though never validated,) or on a mere technicality,” Fradel fumed. “In order to build more military throttleholds, monopolies or to establish byways to supply provisions or to foster commerce.”

This grievous matter more than others had fueled Fradel seething rage and when he sought to gain solace by visiting Zaurr City that held such vital historical significance, a place known for its monumental beauty and tranquility, he'd learned to his still greater dismay, that it too had suffered a similar fate some five years earlier.  In this case a river had been diverted from its course, flooding the city to construct a reservoir to feed the fields of a Yozdek clan landholder.  The city inhabitants, long outspoken in their opposition to Zakhertan Yozdek, had not been warned of the coming flood and so had perished at their daily tasks.

Svein next learned that, in the name of supposed progress even the masses loyal to Zakhertan had suffered untold hardships. But not the aristocrats, those unconscionable ruffians Zakhertan favored, were left alone to indulge in their princely, morally corrupt lifestyles.  In the last decade a labor force of more than 900,000, consisting of those sentenced to penal service or awaiting punishment, were rounded up in order to build the mansions of Zakhertan and his ennobled relatives. Thousands more were routinely conscripted, torn away from their families and homes, their lands and businesses sold for a song; most never returned home for they died in the process of building the new defenses, the straighter highways and causeways needed to expedite the transportation of grain, armies and taxes between the Capital and the provinces or, to simply pave the way for lucrative commerce.

On the grandest scale, in Chusek and Phoseknez Provinces, topographies were permanently altered as hills were razed, valleys filled up, rivers diverted while areas deemed expendable were flooded.  Large segments of the population were systematically dislodged, relocated elsewhere as Zakhertan saw it fit.  Fradel had witnessed the results of this unnatural meddling in the landscape with his own eyes and had learned then how it had reportedly been done to foster the right conditions for some privileged noble's summer retreats. Yet the enforced censorship of the bureaucracy in books and schools, theaters and the decorative arts had carefully weeded out the truth and replaced it with outrageous, blatant fabrications masquerading as undisputed fact.  History was being re-written to favor this present regime and to condemn the previous one. 

"Deception raised to an art form," Fradel gnashed his teeth, then closing his eyes, reflected how, in the previous year in Bejno Province, just outside the Capital city of Channing, they’d appropriated (seized, confiscated) hallowed land, and then unconscionably exhumed age old graves, to build yet another strategic fort.  The few who had so much as raised an eyebrow at this sacrilege had been promptly silenced then disposed of in such a way as to serve as a deterrent to any such repetition.

"Oh, cursed Zakhertan, the worst villain!” Fradel had unwittingly cried out at this point, the brutality of it churning his stomach.  His fists clenched in seething hatred, he hissed through his clenched teeth, "At last the time has come for you to pay for your crimes!"  Then, becoming suddenly aware of his surroundings, donned a bashful smile.  "You must think me mad?"

"No.", Svein (Nevetsecnuac) answered thoughtfully.  His tone was quite explicit, and the word carried deeper implications.  Then, meeting Fradel's questioning gaze he answered him. "We carry the same purpose at heart."

“Did I hear you right?”  When he met Svein's steely eyes suddenly new hope sprang up in Fradel’s heart.

NEVETSECNUAC

 Fradel stared at Svein intently for a long while, utterly silent, a million questions crowding his mind and a thousand lined up on the tip of his tongue.  But, just as suddenly they faded to inconsequentiality as a strong, unexplained feeling supplanted them.  In a burst of elation he declared, then and there, that, since they were truly of one heart and mind, they must become sworn brothers.

"That is also my own heartfelt wish." Svein acquiesced as he reached across the table and gripped Fradel's right hand.  "I feel as though I've known you all my Life.  It's only right that we become brothers."

"Quite so, quite so.", Fradel returned the pressure of the handshake.  Then, a shadow of uncertainty and pain loomed suddenly in Fradel's eyes, plunging him into guilty silence for an awkward interval.

"What is it, Fradel?" Svein (Nevetsecnuac) asked, concerned.  "Pray tell me of your reserve."

"I fear I have not been entirely honest with you." Fradel, his voice quivering slightly, confessed with his head hanging low.  Then he raised his keen eyes to burrow them into Svein's, adding, "Before we could take the oath of brotherhood there can be no secrets between us.  I must bear my heart totally, unreservedly to you."  Fradel shifted in his seat to gain a proper balance.

 

(END OF SECTION 10)

                                                                                  ~