12- LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE PORTENDED PERIL - SECTION 2

(SOVEREIGN ZAKHERTAN’S NIGHTMARE ENSUES)

 

Zakhertan, (still in the grip of a terrible nightmare), had just retrieved his sword when this time he found himself suddenly enveloped in a dense, purplish, spiraling fog. The strong rancid smell assailed his nostrils. His chest once more constrained and his head reeling, he nevertheless undeterred, blindly felt his way about, advancing at times on his hands and knees, to escape this current entrapment. When the fog at lower altitude eventually thinned out, he spotted too late the brigands lurking in the thickets, brandishing their lethal arsenals, their mouths set in a snarl of deadly intent, ready to slay him. A signal, a shrill pitch of a whistle slicing through the air just then, however, froze them in their stance. Horses’ hooves churning up huge clouds of dust in a flash next revealed a contingent of masked riders, clothed head to toe in black and heavily armed, at the scene. In dizzying speed, they dismounted and fanned out to encircle him. Their disciplined, precision manoeuvring impressed and deep down exhilarated Zakhertan Yozdek.

01- ZAKHERTAN YOZDEDK 999 (1)

Nonchalant (blasé), he at once assumed a martial stance to meet the challenge. At that juncture, one who looked to be their leader flourished his whip and let out a high-pitched shriek; that same instance, from an unexpected quarter another warrior leaped forward, somersaulting in the air, to strike a surprising blow at Zakhertan Yozdek’s back of the head.

Zakhertan’s reflexes being as good if not better he warded-it-off successfully, then went on to fighting for quite a long while valiantly (and fiercely) without a let up against the subsequent vicious onslaughts from every direction, keeping them all at bay. Inwardly though, he wondered how long he could keep this up, for the leader's exceptional prowess clearly matched his own. Zakhertan was about to instigate the most plausible recourse which would have put him at an advantage when, at that precise moment the leader's whip having wound around Zakhertan's neck, instantly turned into a most vile, very poisonous snake. The viper simply arched its ugly head and struck Zakhertan between the eyes.  Zakhertan had soon after lost complete consciousness but sure enough, he did not die from it. Zakhertan’s life was in fact spared by the timely administered antidote and when he regained full consciousness, he found out that he was tightly bound and gagged.

After an unspecified time, Zakhertan was (roughly) hauled up by the two stout, nine feet tall armed guards, lugged like a common, convicted criminal through a tunnel, and then brought (deposited) before a secret tribunal. On the dais, seated in the centre as the head of the tribunal, was none other than Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon, who now met Zakhertan's eyes triumphantly. He ordered that the prisoner’s gag be removed.

02- LORD ASGER THUXUR MARROG ZHON (182)JP

Zakhertan after leering menacingly at Lord Zhon, hurled curses at Asger but Zakhertan’s torrent of verbal abuses and curses fell on deft ears! Resisting that strong ominous foreboding gradually taking root in the depths of his soul, Zakhertan challenged Lord Asher Zhon and then each and everyone at the podium to engage him in mortal combat.

He would take them all on, simultaneously, if they dared!

But Lord Zhon's maddening response had been to grin at him simply, condescendingly. The mocking, stifled laughter from the others goaded Zakhertan Yozdek further, to the breaking point. He lunged forward towards the podium to get at Lord Zhon but was violently yanked back and restrained most brutally (with super-human strength) by the armed guards flanking him.

Lord Zhon at this point inclining his head slightly said few inaudible words to the person on his left who, acquiescing (nodded) stood up and removed his mask. To Zakhertan Yozdek’s great surprise and consternation he saw that the person was none other than his most trusted minister Qarzten Caimund.

"You have brought this upon yourself," Qarzten Caimund bristled, his words spat out like acid, “pity you can only be killed but once!"

03- QARZTEN CAMUND (33)JP4

Zakhertan Yozdek’s ire had about reached its zenith; before he could unleash his vicious rebuke on Qarzten Caimund however, the masked man to the left of Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon had briskly stepped forward and, with a sonorous voice, his stare unyielding, dispensed his orders in an incomprehensible language to the guards. Once more to Zakhertan Yozdek’s deep dismay he realized that this voice too, had sounded most familiar…But who could it be?

"I am surrounded by traitors!" Zakhertan indignantly hissed and gnashed his teeth as he pivoted his icy, defiant gaze back on the masked man. Nevertheless, Zakhertan could not rightly discern (ascertain) the individual for which the voice had belonged to, even though for a fleeting second, he had about recognized those steel-gray eyes!

Zakhertan’s subsequent taunts were again maddeningly ignored, by which time the guards had already grabbed (grasped) hold of his arms and, unceremoniously, like a common criminal, ejected him outside. With his feet dangling about two inches off the ground, he was being hauled down the corridor towards the subterranean dungeons, when he had unexpectedly just then eyed (spotted) a scholar in one of the rooms they were about to pass by, which Zakhertan instinctively knew it was scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald. At this point, as if deliberately (by design), the guards stayed their footing long enough for Zakhertan to witness Fradel mounting the dais and wiping away all the incense bowls, candlesticks, and offerings on the Yozdek Ancestral Altar. The scholar had done this with one sweep of the sword that happened to be the twin of Zakhertan's own State Sword, save for the fact that this blade did not glow blood red but had instead, radiated with clear blue luminosity (emitted blue light). Fradel Rurik Korvald’s ensuant (consequent) strike then had decapitated Zakhertan Yozdek’s full size alabaster statue; the head with a loud thud had hit the ground and rolled till it had reached the doorway. Just as Zakhertan was about to be again carted away, the scholar’s glare squarely pivoting Zakhertan’s, he derisively sneered: "This is what awaits you: Hell, and damnation for all eternity! Very soon, you’ll be made to atone for your immense, appalling crimes. "

04- SCHOLAR FRADEL RURIK KORVALD (NEVETSECNUAC) (4)JP

“Impudent academic pest, you dare threaten me?” Zakhertan Yozdek with his (pent up) incessant loathing of the scholar class, in great fury akin to that of a wild beast lunged at Fradel Rurik Korvald, but once more he was violently yanked back by the guards, making the chains bite further into his flesh. Seeing red and spurting venom, his strength fueled now by his erupting rage, he jostled both guards and was about to best them with his super-human strength when, he was bludgeoned (assailed, bashed) hard at the back of the head by a third guard that had suddenly manifested on the scene. All the guards then rancorously (viciously) kicked and punched him in the head, ribs, and groin until Zakhertan doubled over in pain. He was, however, merely feigning defeat; suddenly in a violent burst, he snapped (shattered) his chains and agilely grabbed hold of the weapon fastened at the waist of one of the guards then in lightening speed dealt him a fatal blow just as the guard threw his head back and guffawed. The guard’s decapitated head with a loud thud hit the ground and rolled away. In a blinking of an eye, Zakhertan had next directed the cleaver (axe) onto the rest of the guards flanking him at three sides and instantaneously in three lightening consecutive strokes separated their heads from their necks. Their heads too, one after another tumbled onto the hard ground with loud thuds, bounced then rolled. Zakhertan’s fierce gaze now fell on the scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald.  "Prepare to meet your maker!" he bellowed.

The scholar however quite unperturbed simply held out his hand; he had such majestic bearing behind that formidable unspoken command that astounded Zakhertan involuntarily halted (stayed) his advance.

"It is Heaven's will that we shall duel, but not at present and not here." The illustrious scholar Fradel having then uttered these cryptic words in an even tone vanished into thin air.

"To Hell with Heaven's will…I demand that you be manifest spineless cur and face your doom!" Heedless of the God's wrath, Zakhertan brandishing his cleaver barked his challenge. Fradel Rurik Korvald however did not reappear, leaving Zakhertan Yozdek utterly incensed (exasperated). But then Zakhertan’s good sense taking hold, he knew instinctively that reinforcements would be upon him soon if he dallied in this spot any longer; aborting this fruitless endeavor hence, he swiftly made his escape. He advanced for unspecified time in pitch darkness, stumbling once or twice over a projection (ridge, knob) half- imbedded in the hard ground.

Suddenly, mysteriously Zakhertan found himself transported to the subsidiary highway at the outskirts of the Capital Province Holger. This main artery (thoroughfare) was thronged with dismal (miserable) fleeing citizens of all ages and status, incessantly trudging alongside their overburdened carts and animals, but in the opposite direction from Zakhertan. At the distance, an abandoned Village and fields could be seen still ablaze, intermittently darkening the sky with grayish tint. Amidst the deafening noise Zakhertan too, relentlessly pushed his way through the chaotic mayhem (commotion) which oftentimes sporadically intensified, by the barrage of missiles launched from a hidden enemy post, finding their mark. Zakhertan eventually passed through the battered and unmanned gate, bearing the obvious signs of frantic, decisive battle, to advance towards the second checkpoint. But here too were the prevalent signs of past violent assaults, the obvious mark of defeat and the consequential rampant genocide that had spared no being, animal, or solid structure. And when the incessant (unremitting) winds suddenly shifted, an all-encompassing volley (barrage) of dark smoke and haze anew rushed at him to suffocate his lungs, sting his eyes, and temporarily obscure his vision. Nonetheless, as he made his steadfast (unwavering) advance, he continued to espy (observe) the copious amount of death and destruction, scorched buildings, granaries, destroyed battlements, crumbled ramparts and ditches (trenches) filled with blood-red flow that also encapsulated countless chopped-up corpses in that sea of blood, indicative of the final defense which had failed to stem the gargantuan onslaught. This degree of trouncing of his once mighty forces and the ensued an all-out pandemonium which still raged in three or four sectors, sickened Zakhertan’s heart, and mounted his ire (indignation and fury).

05- ZAKHERTAN YOZDEDK'S IRE 999 (9)

At least the inner walls of the core of Capital were not breached and the locked iron gates remained durably intact!

Later still, after stealthily unearthing the secret latch, Zakhertan with sure footing had quickly descended the stone steps then, advanced fearlessly through the snaking, pitch dark subterranean tunnels which he had had it constructed a long, long time ago for such an eventuality. After an indefinite period when at dusk he finally emerged at the above ground, an implausible (shocking) scene once more confronted his eyes; as his ears same time was assailed with the incessant shouts: “Run, run for your lives! Hedenko’s wrathful army will soon be poised at the gates! May Heaven have mercy on our wretched souls; may death come swiftly to us all and let us be spared from the extreme savagery of Kontu’s militia!" Consecutively blocking the path of eleven frantic citizens Zakhertan confirmed that, all of Channing’s defenses had indeed been breached and Royal armada had all but burned to cinders; furthermore, the winged regiments to the very last rider, (wiped out, eradicated) had been vanquished and, Wenjenkun’s armies on all three fronts had suffered heavy losses.

Presently, the firebombs from cannons raining down had continued to incessantly light up the skies and fostered still more chaos and cataclysms on core of Channing; this, lasting well into the small hours of the night. Civilians and gentry continued to run pell-mell, scattering in sheer panic and, doing their best to avoid the devastating, searing fires that engulfed everything it touched. The catapulted missiles of rock which exploded upon impact, however, still lodged their shards in soft flesh and rivulets of blood trickled down the cobblestone alleyways. By dawn (daybreak), shattered objects and severed limbs were seen strewn everywhere; the besieged Inner city too, was now engulfed in an inferno of burning, swirling debris that resembled scenes from Hell, once depicted in the paintings of extinct religious sects. Zakhertan knew the portended outcome for Wenjenkun all too well, having inflicted such devastation himself on an innumerable conquered state. Invariably it had led to first, their total capitulation and then, complete annihilation; this time however, despite all the measures he had implemented to prevent such course, his own cherished Channing was the one enduring such a brunt (impact), from a foreign (Kontu's) aggression.

“How could things have come to such an aggrieved state?” Zakhertan highly incensed, gnashed (ground) his teeth.

Suddenly however, Zakhertan Yozdek was back in the North Palace, transported there as if he had willed it by magic. Here too, similar chaos reigned. He accosted two or three panicked palace staff though, oddly, this time none had responded to his queries, commands, or threats, as though he was invisible and inaudible to all.

 Peering into a grand room which in the past had been used to discuss matters of national security and covert operations, he observed (and overheard) nine ministers, not the usual bunch, congregated around the huge round table, charting out a course of escape for those whose lives would otherwise be forfeited when after the anticipated total capitulation. Occasionally they would look right past him at the intensifying panic outside then return their overwrought, haggard gazes to the grim task of discussing the alternatives. It wrenched Zakhertan Yozdek’s gut to see the disillusionment in their eyes; they did not hear his subsequent commands however, or words of encouragement, nor his eventual reprimands and threats.

06- ZAUR STUGR  IN WARROOM JP (7)

Is that one, Minister Zaur Stugr?

But before Zakhertan could take a second look, responding to an alarm bell they had all rushed out of the room, one or two of them passing right through Zakhertan, armed only with their ill-conceived plans for escape.

Zakhertan turned and went down the corridor towards the milling crowd in the audience chamber, noting along the way how the four prized frescoes commemorating his two consecutive fantastic battles had all been shamefully defaced and vandalized. Other brilliant works of art, particularly marble or iron sculptures, by the famed artists of their time were also utterly ruined or carted away; shame of it all, this had happened even before the enemy had set foot in the Palace. Unmistakable signs of infighting explained in part, the failure of the Wenjenkun's strong defenses; furthermore, key evidence in plain sight and obvious to Zakhertan, disclosed that despite all his measures, traitors and subversives had still infiltrated his Court. Heaven knows how long ago Hedenko had planted these moles in their very midst to bring about this devastation?

Zakhertan’s rapid steps led him to the Ancestral shrine (temple); there too he noted how everything, memorial tablets and monuments, century’s old sacrificial vessels all lay strewn about in shambles and in heaps of rubble. Passing by a closed window he happened to see just then, the Royal Stables engulfed in red hot flames and his purebred black stallion Night Thunder being led out of the building with a cloth over his eyes. He at once burst through the windowpane to land at the patio, leaped over the low railing and, surprised that he was corporeal once more, threw the stable hands aside to swiftly mount his beloved horse. His magnificent steed obeying his command and charging in lightning speed, Zakhertan now wielded his state sword to vanquish thousands of the Kontu warriors, which had by then, on mass infiltrated the Palace. But eventually accepting the hopelessness of his situation, he made good his escape and outdistanced any dogged enemy’ pursuits. After entering a secret tunnel and riding at full gallop through the perilous course, he finally emerged at outside of the city walls and proceeded to put a safe distance between him and the ceding (yielding, surrendering) Channing. Mindful of the discussed info by his Ministers in the operations’ room, he spurred his horse towards the west for endless days and nights over the harshest terrain regardless of the danger attempting to reach this farthest point of his Kingdom. His Ministers had spoken of a prediction that there in the wasteland would arise in future, a (virtuous) righteous Dragon Lord. He was sure that it would be he, Zakhertan Yozdek, who would rally and regroup the tattered remnants of his once formidable militia, forming a new, more invincible army (encompassing cavalry, heavily armed infantry soldiers, guerrilla force and legionnaires, etcetera), and after a series of glorious punitive campaigns, retake the land (reclaim his kingdom) from the loathsome invader Emperor Deng Hedenko. Nor would he stop there, for he would exact revenge most foul, and wipe the entire nation of Kontu and all its allies from the face of the Earth!

 Zakhertan would have ceaselessly ridden on until he had arrived at his destination, but after nine days of non-stop gallop, Night Thunder had reached the end of his tether. Zakhertan, now finding himself at the edge of a forest where a creek wound its way out into a meadow, dismounted at a clearing to allow his favorite mount a well-earned respite. Feeling suddenly parched, he knelt at the edge of the stream on one leg and cupped his hands to lift bit of the pristine clear water to his lips; but the color unexpectedly turned to crimson, and that same instant, the water transformed into pure blood in both taste and smell. Shrugging, he nevertheless drank a good measure until his thirst was satiated (satisfied, quenched); unfortunately, he had little success in urging Night Thunder to do the same.

Hearing a ruffling, crunching sound just then, Zakhertan dove fearlessly into the thick, tall undergrowth to investigate; he was hoping to encounter at the end of it a small campsite belonging to Wenjenkun’s remnant squadron, headed in same direction as him, having their repast (meal). In any case, there would be fodder (hay) for his steed. Homing in on the noise (pitch) of masticating, he ceaselessly advanced through the shrubbery (thicket) thick with thorns and thistles, which consequently, bloodied his arms and legs. Unfortunately, Zakhertan’s hopes were dashed when he finally cleared the dense bushes only to discover (come across) a solitary, dilapidated hut at the periphery of a coniferous forest. In bold strides he nevertheless advanced right up to the door and finding the door locked, kicked it open. Audaciously, quite unconcerned of any ambush, he then stepped confidently through the portal; but straight away his face blanched and he guardedly backed away a step.

07- ZAKHERTAN YOZDEDK  ENCOUNTERS HELLHOUNDS 999 (6)

 He was not dead yet; for what reason had he stumbled upon these hellhounds? Zakhertan inwardly queried, eyeing the two grotesque creatures ravenously feasting, tearing away chunks from deceased human corpses piled high in centre of the dimly lit room, as he same time warily retreated (drew back) now towards the door. Halfway, his attention was suddenly rapt (gripped) by the beast that was gnawing on the bleeding arm of, obviously the Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren’s, with his forefinger still bearing a signet ring. That same instance the much larger hound squatted beside it had turned his head to reveal in its maw, a partial torso, and the head (hanging from it only by the bare backbone) of Egil Viggoaries.

The single blazing eye affixed on Zakhertan Yozdek, the enormous hellhound predictably growled and started to rise. Now that he’d been discovered, Zakhertan opted to in haste flee from this terrible predicament but his legs in defiance of his will had turned obstinately sluggish; worse still, just before they were completely rendered immobile (turned to stone), he’d tripped (stumbled) on a jutting piece of hard metal, which send him flying face first through the rotted floorboards and into a deep cavity piled high with putrid, dismembered corpses. When he strove to climb out of this macabre foxhole, his progress at first was stymied (thwarted, hindered) by the limbs of the dead that clanged (affixed) onto him, as though they deliberately were trying to hinder (impede) his escape. He nevertheless quickly dug himself out of the pit of putrid bodies and sharp, fractured bones but as consequence his facial features and body was permanently marred, bore deep lacerations, in at least four or five places. His legs mercifully having once more regained their strength, he darted towards the door; meanwhile, he could hear the growling hellhounds closing in on him fast from behind.

 

(END OF SECTION 2)                                                                                       ~

 

 

 11- LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - EVIL PERSONIFIED - SECTION 11

Worren Youkup’s tightened jaw revealing his dogged resolve (his determined reluctance to speak) in the end forced her Ladyship Sejon to concede; and, forsaking propriety, a gesture of her hand dismissed Nijel also to the adjacent room with the others.

01- WORREN YOUKUP (6)JPM

Soon as she was gone, Worren Youkup’s expression hardened, presently burrowing his cold eyes into Sejon’s, he in an unyielding tone, bluntly stated that he was here to speak about Prince Herleif and the stiletto (penknife) in question. Anticipating her ready denial, he then held out his hand, and tersely added, "Save your breath, I’ve already determined the truth; it is of no use for you to deny your complicity in this matter.”

“You may as well make a clean breast of it."  Worren, moreover, taking advantage of her stunned silence, in his authoritative tone quickly put forth two consecutive, pertinent questions to her and demanded to know the answers to them:

“When precisely during the time he had shown Sejon the scrolls did Nijel (undoubtedly on Her Ladyship's instructions,) plant the stiletto inside the scroll? And when exactly had Sejon devised this scheme; a long while ago or, was it an opportune temptation to which she on the spur had succumbed to?” 

Worren had phrased this last bit deliberately to allow Sejon a chance to extricate herself with a semblance of dignity. Worren’s unusually direct approach meanwhile, had so shocked Sejon that her reply was long time in coming.

He would not dare be so forthrightly blunt with his accusations, unless he had attained indisputable proof; furthermore he, being right on the mark, would not take too kindly to her sly manipulation. Sejon askance (sideways suspiciously) had glanced at Worren. By then Sejon had realized that she had grossly underestimated the old tutor Worren Youkup, who was still very much astute, despite prior instances of his feigned muddle-headedness and supposed forgetfulness. Anxiously she bit her lower lip, thinking of her earlier erroneous suppositions when she had first heard of his unusual visit. She at the time had considered mounting a vehement denial of any involvement, then perhaps shedding a tear or two to soften Royal Tutor’s heart. She subsequently had planned gently berating (scolding)him and then swaying his righteous conscience, with sentimental euphemisms, guilt, and tailored aphorisms.

How could you even think of such a thing? She would have cried out against this injustice then would have added: I would never stoop to such pranks, for this surely was a prank, nothing more. I have harbored a slight resentment of Prince Herleif over the years, but who among us has not sustained an ingrained (deep-seated) grudge or worse, against him? The prince has never been an amicable being and has particularly been miserly with his deferential treatment of women. For numerous reasons, which I will not elaborate on other than to remind you of the last outrage he had committed, yes, I did intensely dislike him. Still, I have learned from you, Master Youkup, to walk a fine line and stay on the enlightened path of tolerance and compassion, and though it had not been easy, I had already forgiven the prince’s multitude of sins. Vengeful actions are all behind me now.   

  She would have gone on and on, just as she had rehearsed it.  

Sejon by using her feminine charms could still, even now, have played him, denied and distorted facts to achieve the eventual effect of, laying total blame elsewhere. Why, Worren Youkup’s vanity alone should have been sufficient to dissuade (discourage) the Royal tutor from pursuing this matter, for it would expose his being duped by no less, a naive female in her early twenties. Sejon was too clever in the meantime, to openly disclose her part in this diabolical scheme. Better she used uncertain terms and clever insinuations and double meanings, to allude to the truth. Later they could all be interpreted differently and totally recanted. It had to be done in such a way that Worren's analytical mind would be dulled or appeased. Oh, but all this mental strain so early in the day, was irksome to her and, it drained a good chunk of her vital energy. She was better disposed to managing such things in the late afternoons or evenings; the hours which, fortunately, coincided with Zakhertan’s occasional visits.  

Sejon was moreover displeased, noting that something was amiss with Royal Tutor this morning; though Worren seemed to play along, her evasive words and unspecified allusions obviously grated on his nerves, and he grew increasingly agitated. Despite his sympathetic smile, her instincts alerted her to the critical difference.

“You are way too clever for your own good, Master Youking, and by far too foolhardy.” Sejon lowered her eyes, to hide the fear and contempt that had just then registered in them. Worren had always been too upright and as much principled (ethical) as that cursed Lenny Sukzor. What if he did something quite drastic and went directly to Zakhertan to unburden himself of all that he knew. Best she humored him for now and articulated a heart-rending remorse to placate the old geezer (fool). He did after all, offered her a way out; obviously, that is what he wanted. Sejon’d settled on this recourse as she same time landed a partial ear to Worren’s incessant haranguing (tirade, lecture). No, but then she paused, she would absolutely, not give in, even an inch!

"Have you shared your thoughts with anyone else?" Sejon faking concern, asked.

Angrily, Worren Youkup shook his head, in denial.

“No, it is not something you would readily admit to anyone.”  Sejon was inwardly pleased and amused. "Good. Your own vanity will serve my purpose well.” 

02- HER LADYSHIP SEJON

 

Lady Sejon assuming solicitous demeanor, " Master Youkup, naturally I wish to ease all your concerns, however, let us first move to the comfort of my inner chambers, she sweetly suggested, at once rising to her feet. “It is so hard to relax in these outer rooms."  Her meaning was clear; we will have more apt privacy and security there, from the prying ears.

Youkub’s grudging assent still gratified her, for the room she had chosen was furnished with a rather loud fountain, sheer draperies and cushioned floors that made eavesdropping impossible. She left word with the servants that she was not to be disturbed for any reason then turned to accompany Worren into the inner chamber.

Once they were there and comfortably seated, she cast her eyes downward her face suddenly grown ashen and her green eyes overflowing with accusatory hurt. "Oh, I am so grieved Master Youking, for you are the last person I wished to offend. To think that my maid's harmless indiscretion, a mere prank, should have had such dire consequences for one I hold in such high esteem as you. You have become dearer to me than my own parents, my own loving grandparents. Oh, I am so very distraught.”    

“Please grant me your leave to continue."  Sejon hastened to block Worren’s anticipated response. She heaved a shuddering sigh and shook her head. "When I found out, I punished Zijur severely and dismissed her on the spot. If you had thought that Nijel had something to do with it, you are mistaken. She was in no way involved." Sejon blatantly lied. "It was Zijur who had placed the item there in order to discredit myself and Nijel after her demotion."  She paused, pursed her lips, and shook her head once more in supposed deep dismay. As it were, Sejon held the firm belief, that she’d conceived that whole scheme with the knife by herself and, Nijel had only carried out Sejon’s instructions; consequently, if Nijel’s part was ever to be disclosed and she unjustly got punished, the guilt would weigh like a millstone on Sejon's conscience.      

“Stop there.”  Sejon inwardly advised self. “Illegitimate half-sister or not, it is much too risky to go that far out on a limb for Nijel.”  It bewildered Sejon how, in such a short span, Nijel had won both her deep affection and sure confidence. She was grateful to her nevertheless, for so many things, not the least of which was her instrumental role in exposing the actual indiscretions of Zijur before it could generate the most severe repercussions for Sejon. Zijur's discipline, dismissal in disgrace and her unexpected suicide had been, thanks to in great part Nijel's conscientious efforts, well contained. Though Zijur had been her companion for number of years now, Sejon felt nothing but contempt for her after she had so grievously disgraced herself; therefore, she felt no twinge of conscience in compounding Zijur‘s faults by adding this blame, not when the timing was so appropriate. Nijel contrastingly, was deemed indispensable, as she had lent Sejon consistent support, where it had been most warranted.  

Sejon so completely trusted Nijel in fact that, if ample proof of Nijel’s duplicitous character were to be presented to her, it would still not be believed and furthermore, regarded as malicious slander. Pushing all that concern about Nijel aside, Sejon now glanced up at Worren, smiled warmly, confidently then picked up where she had left off, reiterating again that the chief culprit, Zijur, had been properly punished and dismissed from her service.  As for the fate of the former lady in waiting, it was no longer of concern to her.  

"All the same, I must accept the responsibility for my servant's actions, for allowing all this to happen right under my nose."  She tentatively turned her imploring eyes on Worren Youkup and grimaced. "As you have so wisely deduced, sir, it was a momentary temptation that was seized by a disgruntled servant. I said no more of it after I dismissed Zijur because I had not imagined that it would ever come to this.”

 

03- ZIJUR

 “I also believed that the prince would receive no more than a slight reprimand and a dose of embarrassment from all this.  As it were, the knife was not of weapon's grade, nor was it laced with poison as an assassin's pick would have been. It was a penknife such as those readily available in the library."  Sejon knit her brows in consternation, relieved that Nijel had briefed her on all the details should she ever be brought to task.  "Still, what's done is done." she huffed in resignation. Worren s persistent stone face continued to disturb her and inwardly she quaked slightly.   

Worren Youkup turned his head, biting back his rising anger at Sejon's ongoing deceit. He knew something about Zijur’s character, and he doubted the timid, sweet-natured girl Zijur who’d served Sejon loyally all those years, would be guilty of all that her mistress was at present shamelessly impugning (attributing) to her.

Subsequently, his frayed patience was somewhat allayed (dispelled) by the astonishment he felt at seeing the wide range of emotions Lady Sejon had displayed in that short spell. What he had witnessed had been truly incredible. That this exquisitely beautiful face could appear indignant, proud, strong, and even angry at one moment and the next become like a frightened, helpless little girl so hurt and petrified, as though she was protesting her innocence at a wrongful reprimand by an angry, unreasonable authoritative adult. At the end, the pleading eyes framed by such an imploring face that his heart, in all defiance of reason, became more inclined to forgive her.      

"Oh, Master Youkup, I would give anything, do anything, to alleviate your mind from all worry. If only I could erase the accursed events that led to this dire outcome. You must not be held accountable, and certainly not suffer least consequence, on my account." Sejon ejected shakily, her voice brimming with remorse.   

“Brilliant performance, my dear…  You almost had me convinced there. Such concern deeply touches my heart.”  Worren studied her face, his piercing eyes narrowing. “But why the insistence on protecting Nijel; what kind of hold does she have on you that it can override your innate selfish nature? Again, I digress.” He shook his head to clear away just then distracting thoughts. “This distasteful charade has gone on, far too long; it has been made clear to me now, precisely what needs to be done. You are the ideal product of this environment; more pity that you are also the mother of our future Sovereign.”  His tight smile had a tinge of sourness as he rose to his feet and bowed his head slightly.   

"It seems, Your Ladyship that I have been wasting both of our precious time; for that, I profusely apologize. I will now take my leave of you and proceed to the North Palace, where which, resolved to make a clean breast of things, I shall seek an audience with His Highness Zakhertan Yozdek. From this day forth I shall not be troubling you anymore."     

“Finally, the response I sought.” Worren Youkup was inwardly pleased, observing Sejon’s startled demeanor, as if she had just then awakened finally, to the future grim, dreaded reality.  Looking into her horrified eyes he smiled cynically, "Rest assured My lady, I will exercise the utmost care to leave your name and that of Nijel’s, or should I say, Zijur, out of my report (account, confession), if only for the sake of your son Prince Magnian."      

“After all,” Worren grumbled inaudibly, as he headed across the expansive room. “I should have had the farsightedness of my age and long years of experience, to have anticipated the outcome of irregular handling of Prince Herleif’s scrolls; the culpability (guilt) therefore, is entirely mine.”    

Worren Youkup’s apparent gallantry, his willingness to take full blame on her behalf, his supreme sacrifice, restored Sejon's full confidence. "But Master Youking, you can't do that." With the agility of her youthful age, she hastened forward, spreading her hands, to bar his path and to entreat (implore) Worren, once seemingly the shock had worn off and had freed up her voice.  Then in an obvious expression of regret and humility, letting go of her innate pride, she in an unprecedented move, quite unexpectedly fell to her knees before the old tutor to, teary eyed, beg his forgiveness.     

"The fault is not yours to claim, sir.  You are a man of great integrity and benevolence, as you have proven with your unselfish offer to extricate me, unworthy as I am, from this predicament and shoulder full responsibility yourself even though your true involvement was merely incidental.”    

“But in all good conscience I cannot allow you to tarnish the impeccable reputation you have preserved for so many decades.  No, kind sir, even at best your public esteem will suffer irreparable damage and I will be forced to make tenfold penance at my time of reckoning.”    

Worren had remained speechless especially when Sejon fell on her knees and with humility, bowed her head low to him. "Yes, you have shown me the error of my ways.  Please allow me the chance now to redeem myself for my mistakes.  Have pity on my innocent son, whose reputation will also be slandered by the sins of his mother.  As frightened as I am, I am firmly resolved to doing the righteous thing.  Henceforth I shall stoically face the consequences of my negligence (in controlling actions of my servants), but I need time to prepare myself for this.  I am, after all, a mere woman with limited capacity for elocution.  Words do not come readily to me.  If I should incur the wrath of His Highness before I can explain everything, all would be lost and Magnian and I will suffer even more.”    

“Bravo my dear. Again, you almost had me convinced. If only you hadn’t overplayed your humility, rather debasing… there, you went bit too far.”    

"My own life is of little consequence.”  Sejon had continued meanwhile, with her teary supplication. “And even if I should prematurely expire, I would be content; for I cannot bear the thought of you, venerable sir, being so unjustly punished.  Oh, Master, you have been as grievously wronged as it is.  I hope that, in time, you will find it clear in your heart to forgive me.  I have so valued your altruistic tutelage (advice and guidance) and look how I have repaid your kindness.  Please, please sir, do not begrudge me this time I need to collect my thoughts and present my case in the best light so that the right thing is done for both my son’s and your sake, sir.  Knowing that justice is truly served will ready me for whatever punishment His Highness will deal to me."    

Despite himself, Worren Youkup’s heart was wrung out.  As he hesitated, he quietly considered how the dire repercussions would affect innocent Prince Magnian.  Over the past few months, he had grown quite fond of the intrepid toddler.      

"Heaven has eyes." Sejon surmising what was on Worren’s mind, continued.  "I believe Gods will protect the innocent, do not fret too much over Magnian, he won’t face any serious future peril.  No, sir, you cannot dissuade me from doing the right thing now."    

The old tutor (Worren Youkup) totally beguiled, now begun regretting his harsh treatment of Sejon.  Bending down, and lightly gripping her elbow, he urged her to rise and be seated.  Taking a position across from her, he first assured her that he’d grant her the extended time she’d requested then in earnest, began his good counsel.   

His mind was still as sharp as ever and the summation of his lifelong experiences were utilized to afford her the most perfectly enunciated, solid defense, one that she would have never been able to formulate on her own.   

 

 

(END OF SECTION 11)

 

                                                                                                        ~

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE RENEGADE IMMORTAL - SECTION 17

Resisting the urge to go outside, Hugen leaned his back against the wall and after exhaling a long breath, in an even tone he began with: “Meanwhile, Zakhertan Yozdek’s attentions were directed elsewhere to other regions where more profitable gains could be had.”

01- ZAKHERTAN YOZDEDK  (10) JP

“All the while millions were conscripted from all parts of Wenjenkun and the (other subjugated) auxiliary regions; many physically fit men and adolescent males were pressed into military service while women, scholars or the infirm were forced into the labor camps Zakhertan created to construct the mammoth projects he envisioned for his capital.”

“Hills were razed, channels were dug, and reservoirs built to multiply agricultural production in former deserts and, of course, grand palaces were commissioned in all four corners of the Kingdom. All the while families were uprooted and relocated to the remote regions of Wenjenkun he wanted populated.  The upshot of all of this, the costly expeditions, the grand schemes, despite the plunder he amassed, had still very nearly bankrupted the State Treasury in Channing.”

"Seen in this light, the subjugation of Korion was considered a serious liability and a definite unproductive drain on their economy.  It was deemed clearly pointless, for Wenjenkun to maintain its present tight rein (leash) on the deemed barbaric race that, could not be tamed and required mounting expenditures all for the facade (pretence, sham, deceit) of keeping it within Wenjenkun's civil guidelines. Happily, our point had been driven home well and good.  From all corners of the Kingdom (Wenjenkun) petitions regularly poured in, the writers knowingly risking pain of death, protesting the continuing military presence in Korion.  They acknowledged that our country bred the finest stock of horses, was endowed with precious gemstones of the finest quality, as well, had much required (needed) minerals and useful metals in quantity; yet despite the hefty annual tribute of these items flowing into Channing, it was costing Wenjenkun (government and administration) still more dearly to maintain scant, minimal control over this unforgiving, unruly region.  Their ministers argued the point that, the National Interests would be best served with more frugal allocation of their resources and by the deployment of armies (and military personnel) to other regions (countries) where more feasible and more advantageous returns could be had.”

"As it was, Zakhertan Yozdek urgently needed to composite another invincible military force, in order to conquer the Mokuzers at that time and, already having gained his revenge against our Lord and people, he was disposed to allow such criticism.  By this time Zakhertan's arrogance and megalomania had reached its (apex) zenith and, when presented with the petition in the Great Zonggotu Hall, he was recorded as having said, "Well, if this grubbing race of barbarians can resurrect a single Royal pedigree (lineage) to rule them, I’ll permit it; Korion then may, within reason, have whatever autonomy they can muster."  He of course had been certain (quite convinced) that there were none of the Royal line left alive to take up the reign of power in Korion.”

"Unknown to him, there was indeed one who had escaped his evil carnage."  Patiently Hugen explained, " Sometime prior, the youngest sister of His Highness the late Harkan Konzuran Binchan, Princess Jenor, as the tribal custom demanded, had been entrusted to chieftain Kureshi Nokuzuk’s care, to be brought up from the age of ten till she reached the age of seventeen, by which time she was to be wed to Yeru, the third son (for the first son was too old and already married, and the second son already dead, succumbed to an accident) of the powerful tribal chieftain Kureshi Nokuzuk, in order to ensure a lasting peace with this fierce nomadic race to the North.“

02- TRIBAL CHIEFTAIN KURESHI NOKUZUK

 “After this alliance had been struck, all hostilities and border incursions in the northern sector had of course ceased and, this peace has lasted to date. “Hugen pensively nodded, then almost imperceptibly (subtly) the corners of his mouth lifted in a grimace (smirk). “Anyhow, this well-kept secret, Princess Jenor, the sole surviving member of the Royal Binchan Clan, was a legendary beauty. After Princess Jenor and Yeru’s nuptials, Princess Jenor in time had born two daughters who rivaled her in fairness, and a brilliant son, Yoshikan.  Here’s were things gets interesting: This male offspring (with Binchan royal bloodline) was promptly recalled to Korion to claim his rightful place as Sovereign of our country.”

“The Chieftain Kureshi Nokuzuk, for obvious reasons, raised no real objections to the recall, and even if Yeru had any qualms, I dare say that his opinions were quickly overridden by Kureshi, to the greater benefit of all.  And so it came to pass that, at the age of ten, on a blessed and joyful day, our Illustrious Sovereign, Yoshikan Sousing Nokuzuk Binchan, was duly enthroned.”

"Of course, Zakhertan Yozdek was outraged (livid) to learn of this and, I understand, many suffered his terrible wrath.  Since, however, his promise had the strength of an Imperial edict, it could not be rescinded, and Zakhertan had to let the Coronation proceed.  Still, he managed to slip a catch into it.  The boy King was deemed to be of too tender an age, to rule unaided and, since the appointed Regent had mysteriously succumbed to a fatal infection after a routine wound which had been improperly dressed, Zakhertan Yozdek’s elder relation, a grasping licentious cur calling himself Guobin Yozdek, was appointed (in its stead) as the new Regent.  With the aid of a cotillion of advisors specially transported with him from Wenjenkun, this piece of offal was given leave to govern Korion for eight years until Yoshikan Sousing Nokuzuk Binchan’s age of ascent.  Though this was nominally an interim appointment, Zakhertan’s design was obviously to have the situation closely monitored and controlled and the boy King's abilities assessed.  If Yoshikan were to show even the least potential of becoming a strong, capable leader then he was to be covertly disposed of, regardless of any future consequences. But despite his youth, His Highness Yoshikan Sousing Nokuzuk Binchan had already possessed a most discerning mind and alerted at the very start to this danger, he’d played his part brilliantly, in order to beguile his planted (spy) Royal Entourage (attendants, governors, tutors etc.) and to allay all their fears.”

“Of course, Zakhertan Yozdek would not be so easily duped and summoning our Sovereign to Channing numerous times, tested him in countless, vigorous, varied ways, dishing out all manner of insults to his person and country to see if Yoshikan or his loyal courtiers would have the backbone or strong will to strike back; but they, with all due humility and perseverance, subjected themselves to these indignities. “

“This caused Zakhertan to despise our Sovereign Yoshikan Sousing Nokuzuk Binchan even more as a spineless weakling and, predictably, to turn his attention to a more pressing concerns; one of which was the blatant and rapidly growing influence and power of Guobin Yozdek.” 

03--GUOBIN YOZDEK  (18)JP

“Guobin’s ambitious nature, as an oversight going unchecked, he’d become progressively more pompous, dictatorial and, even worse, defiant. You see, during his last state visit to Channing, Guobin deeming himself to be the most competent administrator, had brazenly (unabashedly) taken full credit for the pacification of Korion and the revival of its thriving economy. Guobin had further enraged Zakhertan Yozdek, by the unveiling of his long-term, lofty ambition; suggesting in words stronger than a mere request that, Wenjenkun should dispense with the charade and proclaim him instead, as the sole ruler of Korion. More outrageously still, Guobin had exposed his sinister plan to Zakhertan, which’d been ready to be implemented at a moment’s notice, to murder our young Sovereign Yoshikan through (via) poisoning or an induced illness.  The Regent Guobin banking on his status in family (as blood-relation), had erroneously supposed that, after his reporting of an alleged, disgraceful incident involving Prince Yoshikan, he had reached a sympathetic kinship’ ear.”

“Meanwhile, unknown to the aspiring King of Korion, our Illustrious Prince Yoshikan, because of his uprightness and humility, had progressively gained a strong and loyal following in both Korion and with the dissidents (nonconformists) in Wenjenkun.  These supporters, seeing the time was ripe, had already implemented, carefully orchestrated series of rumors and incidents which made it appear as though Guobin had long since being conspiring to usurp the throne of Korion, right under the nose of Zakhertan Yozdek. As proof, they’d   obtained depositions (affidavits) and had those incognito (anonymously) leaked to authorities in Channing, from other contiguous nations’ Princes who were no allies of Korion, intimating that Guobin had solicited their support, with the suggestion of constant border incursions, to destabilize Wenjenkun’s strong government.  Same period, several Guobin’s enthusiasts were furtively (stealthily) exposed planning their machinations, to internally undermine Zakhertan Yozdek’s rule, which would then, by way of a nation-wide rebellion, would have brought about Zakhertan’s eventual downfall. At this juncture Korion’s armies would have then swooped down to fulfill Guobin’s fantastic high ambition of uniting both countries under his new Dynasty.”

“This obviously infuriated Zakhertan Yozdek, who acted swiftly and brutally but in a much stronger fashion than could have ever been anticipated or hoped. With a single stroke, Guobin Yozdek and the untrustworthy Princes along with all their supporters and countless other suspected conspirators were all, maliciously and sadistically eradicated.” Hugen at this point pausing donned a somewhat sinister, satisfactory grin.  “This brought about the accession of our Illustrious Sovereign Yoshikan Sousing Nokuzuk Binchan a full two years before the ordained time. And of course, you know the rest." Hugen waved his hand in dismissal and, rising to his feet, strode outside to relieve himself.

After the rain, with the wind subsiding and most of the flotilla clouds gone away, the night’s sky was now decked with blinking stars (patently) markedly flirting with the half crescent moon; meanwhile, Earth was still mantled (blanketed) in black, with periodically dancing hazy, indistinct sundry shapes. Hugen grimaced, suddenly hearing a (cry) hooting of an owl that was perfectly camouflaged up in the tree some ways off, and knowingly nodded.    Lingering at outside Hugen inhaled deeply and filled his lungs with the refreshingly cool, crisp evening air. Reluctant to return to the confines of the ramshackle hut, he offhandedly at first pinned his empty gaze into the dark void; moment later however, in his mind’s eye he was visualizing and nostalgically reminiscing about the exciting exploits of heroes, some he knew all too well, a long, long time ago. His thoughts again reverting to his beloved Sovereign, Hugen reflected on how even before his ascension His Highness Yoshikan had spent many long grueling hours holding Court in secret, all well hidden beneath the guise of licentious parties. Through these long processes some of the necessary changes had been surreptitiously and, (gradually) by small degrees, incorporated into the existing system. His Highness had tirelessly toiled night and day to draw up effective stratagems for resurrecting the nation from the ashes, rebuilding it to its former glorious strength so that once more they could become a Country to contend with. Soon as he was legally King of Korion, Yoshikan had appointed these certain able ministers’ and with their help instituted apt effective measures that had been so many years in the making.

04- YOSHIKAN SOUSING NOKUZUK BINCHAN  -JP

His Highness Yoshikan Sousing Nokuzuk Binchan’s subsequent edict had amended the flawed old system of governance and law; after which had occurred, the purging of all undesirables’ right down to the root.  Those spies, collaborators and moles that had been pinpointed (found out) sometime prior, were either converted, bought out or kept on to unknowingly pass on misinformation to Wenjenkun.  A few, very few, were discreetly killed when they proved uncooperative.  Zakhertan Yozdek hence, all this time had been fed a deceptive picture of the state of Korion and was lulled into a false sense of security that had lasted to the present day.

 Hugen re-entering the dilapidated (rundown) hut, quietly sat in the same spot and periodically, somewhat distractedly, gazed at the far corner, as he waited for Uyuk’s return. 

“Odd, there's that feeling again, a strong sense of danger gnawing at my innards. Plus, the hairs on the back of my neck are bristling, which is a sure sign of peril.” As it was, Hugen's intuition had never failed him.  His piercing gaze once more astutely scrutinized the corner from where he sat, keenly examining (observing), that small pile of debris against the far wall.  “There's nothing outwardly strange, yet there's something odd about it, something I can't rightly pinpoint (explain); perhaps the way the broken shards of furniture are resting, the pattern of the bricks and mortar, that broken jug handle, was it there before?”

Just then Hugen was distracted by Uyuk's noisy return from the business he had just concluded outside.  Uyuk, sensing his partner's mood, quietly took up the same position he had just vacated a moment ago.  "What's up?” he then leaned forward to ask in a conspiratorial whisper.

"I'm not sure.” Hugen grunted. After shaking his head, he leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, remaining deliberately oblivious to Uyuk's questioning, piercing gaze. 

“That mouse I saw scurrying across to his hole when I came back must have disturbed it.” Hugen quietly mused.  “Either that, or, Hmm...No, that’s too improbable.”  Before long, his thoughts again (turned) reverted to his beloved Sovereign.

His Royal Highness Yoshikan Sousing Nokuzuk Binchan in the ensuing years, living prudently and encouraging all his ministers to follow suit, had shared the abysmal hardships of his subjects. He’d abolished (inherited) fiefdoms; furthermore, on his Highness’s directive, the Governing Council had per annum, assiduously apportioned (allotted) the nation's wealth among its citizens high and low.  Standards were set and strictly regimented; communications improved; taxes remained moderate; the enforced laws were strict but nevertheless fair and just.  People willingly worked harder and toiled longer hours, knowing that it was for the common good and, they got to keep a good portion of their profits for themselves.  This encouraged them to exert themselves and their abilities to the maximum for the harder they worked, the better off they were, and the better off their children's lives would be. The future, no longer bleak, looked bright and promising for all.  Piety and propriety abounded, and industrious citizens had in time flourished. Sovereign Yoshikan never letting himself for a moment to forget the disgrace that his lineage and his subjects for more than decade and a half now had borne (suffered, endured), unrelentingly hence, had kept up his vigil, setting a good example as well as being, an inspiration to all. Thus, Sovereign Yoshikan had earned his subjects' undying love and unfaltering loyalty in a way that all other leaders since time immemorial would envy.  He’d become the true heartbeat of their nation.  Every citizen without question would suffer the torments of Hell, would surrender their very lives without a single moment's hesitation if it would benefit their beloved Sovereign or their nation.

In this respect, then, Hugen was not alone; furthermore, Hugen like all good patriots, lived and breathed in anticipation of the day Zakhertan Yozdek and Wenjenkun would be totally eradicated, obliterated from the face of the Earth and the pages of History.  Impatience gnawed at him daily as his heart ached increasingly with the unstinted yearning to see that day when it would all come to pass.

"Unfortunately, our resourceful, well-respected Minister Tuvering Bokurek has deemed the time is not yet ripe; and his advice is always sound.  Some even compare his competence and forte akin to the Illustrious Wushing." Suddenly Hugen broke his long, prolonged silence and looking directly at Uyuk, enunciated (voicing) the subsequent thought that’d just then intruded into his mind.

It was obvious that Uyuk had been thinking along these same lines as he abstractedly drew circles on the dirt floor, for he nodded; but then, seconds later frowning, he shook his head and grumbled. "The time is not yet ripe.  When will it be ripe?  Why is he stalling?" His eyes affixed on Hugen he now pressed on: "We formed that new alliance with Luso and Dokurak after Terz to…"

"That information is highly confidential!” Hugen barked, aghast. “How did you come by it?"

"Oh I, too, have my resources."  Uyuk smiled smugly then pinned his defiant gaze on Hugen.  "But don't you go imagining that there is a leak in the High Council.  After all, you are the only one I've disclosed this to, and this I did only because I know for a fact that you were already aware of it."

"Right, well I know exactly where and from whom you acquired your information but never mind." Hugen looked away to hide his extreme annoyance.

“That little vermin should have been exterminated (eradicated) some years ago if it were not for his powerful backers.” Hugen still livid, mulled over. “But this breach is inexcusable!  As soon as I get back, I'll push to have him eliminated, disposed off permanently, for after this violation (flouting) a mere dismissal will now not suffice.” 

Hugen understood well, how this move would incur great animosity towards him and create lasting enemies.  “That brute does have so many influential friends.”  For a second he’d wavered; reflecting on those ardent nemesis’s, which were always after his hide. “So, what,” Grimacing, he shrugged. “Let them add a few more grievances to an already long list.”

Uyuk had perfunctorily dismissed that certain cringe he’d felt in his heart, and now suppressing the alarming thoughts as well, simply grunted. "Yet I fail to comprehend just how much more time Minister Bokurek needs to have, to give the final go-ahead.  Aren't we as ready as we'll ever be?"

05-MINISTER OF KORION TUVERING BOKUREK   (3)

"Surely the good Minister's reasons are explicit enough…  Why should we show our hand prematurely and awaken the sleeping giant?”  Hugen snorted disdainfully. "Besides, aren't you overlooking something of vital importance?"

"What?"  As Hugen then turned his stone gaze back on him, Uyuk decided not to feign total ignorance. "Oh, you mean the implications of the failed assassination."

"You can be exasperatingly quite tiresome at times."

Uyuk threw his head back and laughed uproariously but then abruptly halted it and drew close to seriously murmur, "It’s nevertheless quite regrettable that General Kunsun had failed in his mission." Out of the corner of his eye Uyuk had watched for the expected reaction and finding nothing, he groaned. "Many hopes hung on him, so sure we were that he would succeed."  He looked Hugen straight in the eye this time and shrugged, as if to take the edge off his next remark, "You think it took any stretch of imagination, any brilliance at all, to deduce just who the assassin was?  He was after all, the best candidate for the task; unfortunately, his demise will be a tremendous loss for our State. He deserved better, especially after his rendering of myriad years of invaluable service to our Sovereign and the State. Oh, shame of it all that the General’s corpse had ended up the way it did; to date I’m tormented by the wretched condition of it… He was certainly undeserving of such an ignoble end."

“You are so full of it!” Hugen musing pensively looked away; subsequently, he broke his long, uncharacteristic silence with a grunt.

Uyuk could see the other was tense, as though anticipating a fight, perhaps an onslaught (ambush), yet chose to disregard Hugen's unusually taut demeanor.

"As it is, his spirit will now be forced to roam the Earth forever.  I'm not sure just how much comfort our future sacrifices can bring him.  It's most unfortunate the way things turned out for him, eh…Too bad for us that he failed."  Uyuk disingenuously lamented, his mind on entirely different matters. “Oh, I know full well what you mean to do the moment we return home, but I won't let you; we won't let you.”  Uyuk inwardly scoffed as he concurrently (at the same time) determinedly clenched the fist he had hidden from Hugen's sight.  “He is my friend and he'd come through for me more than once.”

"Oh, but has he?  Has he really?"  Hugen's eventual, sarcastic response, had at first shocked Uyuk, but then he quickly got a grip on his senses as he realized Hugen was referring to General Kunsun.

Uyuk’s ambivalent (unsure) eyes again met Hugen's stone gaze.  After a moment's hesitation he tragically grimaced and nodded, "Yes, I suppose you are right.  After all, it strengthened Zakhertan Yozdek’s resolve to send an invading army to, purportedly reinforce Korion’s borders and to offset (counteract) the expected onslaught (attack) from Kontu.  A hundred-thousand strong, was it not?"  He waited for Hugen's silent confirmation of the figure before he continued, "Without that edge massive armies of Kontu would have been unleashed on Korion by now."

There was a quick exchange of glances, meaningful, wistful looks of excitement then both burst into boisterous, hearty laughter. 

 

(END OF SECTION 17)