LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION 23

Briac curtailed the curses that were on his (breath) lips, lest he be exposed to the fool which he had been, and ran after her in hot pursuit. She was quite agile and in the darkness with sure footing she, all the same, managed to spread some distance between her and her ardent pursuer Briac.  Running down the hall in another direction, she pushed open the back door, quickly descended the set of stairs and after going through the dark tunnel, swiftly disappeared into the dark stables.

Hot on her trail, incensed Briac raced after this would be assailant and entered the stables that held many stalls with horses in it. Incensed, he was determined to extricate from her some answers, such as the identity of the real culprit behind it all.  

"Come back here, you are thieving harlot!"  Briac barked, scanning the dark perimeter.

Suddenly, however, five sinister-looking thugs armed with cudgels and axes emerged from their hiding places instead of her.  Too late, Briac realized his grave mistake.

01- RUFFIAN (GANGSTER)

"Ah, our distinguished guest has finally arrived." One of the ruffians (possibly the chief gangster) grinned venomously as he pulled the woman aside then signaled the rest to attack.

 Briac ducked, swerved, and jumped over the furious blows as he bellowed curses, threats and insults.

Frastos had just relieved himself around the corner of the stables, outside, when the entire hubbub (ruckus) reached his ears.

"Uh-oh!  The captain will have my hide," Frastos cursed as he quickly pulled up his pants.

With the chill threat of fear coursing (surging, running) down his spine, he then rushed towards the noise brandishing his sword.  Fortunately, the situation was not as grave as he had feared.

Though at first unarmed, Briac’d quickly gained a sword from one of the vanquished (beaten, bested) bandits and so armed, he had managed to keep them at bay.  Frastos’s appearance on the stage had further changed the odds and considerably alleviated (lessened, assuaged) Briac’s still dangerous predicament; hence, emboldened Briac now shifted from the defensive to the offensive, edging closer to the competent adversaries, to deliver some very effective strikes.

"Go on, there are only two of them.  Squash these darn cockroaches!" the burly leader urged the thugs on.

Frastos, however, was an accomplished fighter in his own right, and was armed as well.  The gang of five competent fighters as they were, soon found themselves in dire straits, completely out-matched, even though Frastos had only used the flat of his sword, and soon were scrambling to get away.

"Why aren't you pursuing them?" Briac turned on Frastos to bellow fiercely.

"Let’s go after them!  They're getting away!"

"What's the point?" Frastos stood on his ground and, laughing crudely, shrugged his shoulders.  "They're only some local hoodlums."

"Local hoodlums," Briac was nonplused.

"You've registered as Borkos Yenzic." Frastos glanced at him from the corner of his eye.  "I doubt if they have even heard of Fradel Rurik Korvald."

"How can you be so sure?" Briac insisted.

"Look!"  Frastos lost his patience.  "You were flaunting your wealth.  They thought you were a man of substance, and they marked you for an easy prey.  They had no intention of killing you.  They only wanted to rob you or kidnap you for the ransom."

"Only they underestimated my might." Briac finished the thought.

 "But that bitch tried to kill me!" he suddenly recalled the woman and looked about for her.  It was all too evident that, despite all, he still lusted after her.

02- FRASTOS  DEFEATS THE BANDTS- JP 18

"What a fool you are, Briac."  Frastos shook his head disdainfully, his face crinkling in momentary disgust before he turned and walked away.

Briac was rooted to the spot, his face darkening with anger as he stared at Frastos' diminishing form as it was swallowed up by the night. “Where does he get off, talking to me that way?” he fumed.

“Pity she turned out to be but a petty thief, I could have really enjoyed myself tonight.  She certainly was well-endowed.” But then some common-sense set in and he shook his head, inwardly chastising himself and letting out a loud sigh, “You are a total, complete dunderhead (dunce, numskull)!  And he's right, no denying it, you know he is”

 

Begrudgingly he trailed Frastos to the side door of the inn.

"Please let this be our secret." he implored Frastos back in the room.

"I'll compensate you well.  You know my family has the means and, next time, I'll let you have your way with the best beauty.  I'll make it worthwhile; you'll see.  Not a word of this to the captain or that scum, Tizan; All right?"

Frastos turned his back in disgust and grunted, "Go to sleep.  We've wasted a good part of this night's rest already."

Taking this as an affirmation, Briac thanked Frastos.  "You won't be sorry, you'll see."

Then he, too, climbed under the warm covers on the other side of the huge bed.

His adrenaline was still high after the exhilaration of the fight and try, as he might, sleep sadly averted him as many concerns persisted in haunting his thoughts.

Inhaling deeply, the lingering, sweet perfume she had left on the pillow which now taunted him with wild imaginings, he grunted and forcefully shut his eyelids.  Instead of sleep, however, he grew more dismayed at having missed the ecstasy that she had promised him.  He snuggled up to the pillows and quilt desperately seeking some solace; the remainder of the night however, he still turned and tossed, being kept awake, listening to Frastos' variable, sporadic snores.

“Nope… No use, I can’t sleep.”  Frustrated, Briac finally kicked off his covers in disdain and got up to lie, spread eagle on his back, on the cold floor, staring blankly up to the ceiling beams.

“Sure, the benefits are most enjoyable but I never, for the life of me, expected that the message I sent, would cause me to be targeted in place of Fradel Rurik Korvald.  I really set myself up this time.”  Screwing up his face, he picked himself up; going over to his side, he flopped face-down, back on the bed.

 “Oh, how can he sleep so soundly when I am in such a state? Lucky brute: doesn’t anything phase you?  Devils take you; I don't really know how much longer I can endure this suspense.  At every turn in the road my heart rushed into my mouth.”

Frastos not wishing to engage Briac, meanwhile, had pretended to be in deep slumber (forty winks) and so, disappointingly, still did not stir.

“What’s the good of all that gold if I don't live long enough to flaunt it?” Briac inhaled (heaved), with a deep sigh.

Suddenly however, fiery rage gripped his chest.   “This is all uncles’ fault, for cutting me off financially and, forcing me to these desperate means; all, over that silly little incident? Improper, my tunic!  I'm sure he's committed far worse crimes, only no one has ever been able to pin any of it on him.  But I proved them wrong, didn't I?  Ha!  For this last year, thanks to my affiliations, I’ve sustained a more luxurious lifestyle and more power than they could ever imagine.  But what about now; how can I escape this …. Present dire misfortune?”

Briac's face became taut, and he once more nervously rolled over on his side, fingers tapping on his hip.  Imagining all sorts of horrible fates, he sat up and, cupping his chin, deliberated.

“I must exercise utmost care and persist in keeping vigilant.  Tonight, I was lucky.  Had they been His Excellency's men,” he gave an involuntary shudder.

 “I wouldn't have had a prayer of a chance.  Running away is pure suicide.  Zunrogo or his lapdog Tizan would hunt me down within minutes and hack off my head for desertion.

“If only I can get to Jukurok in safety and make my contacts.  I may not know their faces, but the ruins of Guzor temple shouldn't be too hard to find.  Once I give the secret password, I can establish my identity and inform them of the change.”

“Now, how on earth can I lose Frastos for, long enough to establish contact?  The captain's ordered him to keep an eye on me every darned (blasted) moment, day, or night.  Now, if I can win him over.  Yes, that might work.  He could cover up for me then or come with me when the opportunity avails itself.  He does have a stubborn streak, though, and he's such a straight arrow.  Converting him to my way of thinking won't be easy.  I'll have to bribe him with something irresistible; but what?”  Finally, overcome by pure exhaustion, Briac drifted into fitful slumber.

                                                                                        ~

When the first rays of daylight struck his eyes, he, with a start, woke up.  Last night's concerns were still fresh in his mind, Briac’s eyes at once searched for Frastos but he was nowhere to be seen.  The smile on his face turned into a scowl of hatred.  He jumped up and began dressing. “Rats!  He's gone to squeal on me.  I'll fix him.  I’ll...”

Just then Frastos, fuming with rage, stormed into the room with curses on his lips.

"I suppose you rushed right over to deliver your exaggerated report of my slight indiscretions last night.” Briac, hands on his waist, angrily confronted Frastos.

“Tell me, what benefit, what rewards did you reap, to justify this despicable act of treachery?"

Frastos was in no mood to deal with Briac’s barmy gibberish (nonsense). He simply shook his head and tried to get past him.

“You couldn't wait, could you?" Briac barked, still blocking Frastos' path.

"What the hell are you raving about?"  Frastos shoved him aside, frowning fiercely as he went over to sink into the chair by the fire.  Still fuming inwardly, he cursed, "That villain!  …That vile, despicable cur!"

"Don't deny it; you've been to see the captain, haven't you?" Briac demanded.

"Yeah," Frastos glared back.  "This is entirely your fault!"  Leaning forward, he shook an accusing finger at Briac.  "If it weren't for that ..." seeing the look of incomprehension in Briac's face, he threw his head back and laughed scornfully.  "Why do I waste my breath?"  He shook his head and slumped back into the chair.  Through gritted teeth he ejected, "No, he was looking for just such an opening.  He's had it in for me ever since that Cheron incident when I could no longer stomach his brutality and spoke up against him to the captain.  That savage, arrogant beast!  Where does he get off talking to me that way?  I don't care who he is, that still doesn't give him the right to show such effrontery.  I don't have to put up with those kinds of insults from the likes of him… That ogre! “Suddenly Frastos sprang to his feet and, clenching his fists, began to angrily pace the floor.

03- FRASTOS  IS ANGRY- JP 02

 "Oh, I'd like to wring his neck!"

"My fault,” Briac, a little slow on the uptake, was thrown aback until he figured out the last sentences.  “Cheron incident…  Who’s the Ogre?  Tizan?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes Tizan; who else?" Frastos stopped his pacing to glare sharply at Briac.

 "That despicable, arrogant cad,” Stamping his foot on the floor he swore, "I'll get him!  I'll make him pay dearly for this if it’s the last thing I do.  He doesn't scare me none."

Briac was delighted to see the fury, the contempt Frastos now held for their common foe, Tizan.  “This makes the job of convincing him that much easier.  Yes, things are finally looking up, but what's this about the Cheron incident?  How was it, I was kept in the dark about their, particularly Tizan’s, involvement in that whole, messy affair?  And the missing funds?  It was, reportedly, a considerable sum.  Still, why burden Frastos with all questions about that now?  I'll worm-it- out-of-him eventually once I have his confidence; far better to concentrate on the matters at hand.”  Briac quietly counseled himself. 

Going over, he placed a sympathetic hand on Frastos' shoulder.  "I feel the same way you do, brother, but hey, calm down.  Remember, haste makes waste."

Frastos shrugged off the sympathy with disdain, "Don't humor me.  I'm in no mood for your nonsensical advice."  Glowering threateningly, he went back to sink once more into the chair.

"Who's humoring you?"  Undeterred, Briac sat in the chair opposite Frastos.  Though he was six years older than Frastos, their relationship had been on an equal footing from the start.  "No, I'm dead serious," he reasserted.

"As a friend, I must deter you from doing anything rash; that is, not just yet.  I know how much that cur Tizan can get under your skin until your blood begins to boil with rage and contempt but don't lose your head.  You know how shrewd, cunning, and ruthless he can be.  Besides, he's an able fighter.  Individually, he'd waste either of us in a flash.  However, if we bid our time and pool our resources to make a concerted effort and reasonable plan, we may just win the day.  What do you say to that?"

Frastos’s head down, he looked lost in thought.

Briac grinned in satisfaction. “Good, at least you're considering it.  Now, will you tell me what happened?"

“You would like that, wouldn't you?” Frastos raised his head to study Briac for a moment.  “You'd like to know all the sordid details of this humiliation so you can later on, for your own sadistic gain, turn it on me.”  Grinding his teeth, he instead continued to mumble insults against Tizan.  But then his face contorted into a snarling grin as he admitted to himself that cooperation might be exactly what was needed to bring about Tizan's downfall or better still, his demise. As things had progressed thus far, nothing less (then his ignominious assassination) would assuage his anger.

 "You were right about him, brother," he finally spoke.

"Yes, you've been right all along only I've been too blind to see it."  His amiable tone contrasted sharply with his hostile expression.

"I'm sorry I've not been more supportive of you in the past.  This is a terrible thing he did to you.  The scholar Fradel is already in perfect disguise, there was no reasons for this subterfuge, no need for you to impersonate Fradel and by doing so, plunk your life in peril." He added in all sincerity to purposefully deflect Briac's persistent questions.  In his mind he pondered his next course of action.

"Yes.  After all these years of loyal service, it seems that my life amounted to so very little for the captain that he, without a qualm, sanctioned Tizan's vile plan.  There's no doubt the wicked scheme was Tizan's idea. “Briac swallowed hard and looked away.

“The vermin Tzan concocted this preposterous measure to humiliate us, to pay me back for..."  Briac suddenly stopped and askance (sideways) looked at Frastos, before he prodded him again, attempting to get to the root of the problem. "But, brother, why do you evade my questions?  Don't you trust me enough to tell me what they did to spin you into such a fitful state?  Why am I to be blamed?  I will take real offense (slight) if you don't stop being so cryptic."

"I mean no affront (insult, slur), it’s just", Frastos drew a breath, his anger in part subsided.

 "Well, all right, I'll tell you this much.  You'll find out soon enough yourself when you go to see the captain.  It’s best that you go in, somewhat prepared, armed with plausible explanation for your defense.

"I was summoned first thing this morning.  You had such a rough time of it, last night; I took care not to wake you when I rushed to comply."

"That's very considerate of you, brother." Briac interrupted gratefully.

"Well, anyway, there was Tizan at the Captain's side.  I'd swear the devil never sleeps.”

04--TZAN JP

“I could see that the captain considered the whole matter too trivial to bother about, but it was Tizan, all right, who had instigated this trouble.  He magnified it to serve his own ill purposes.  Then I was subjected to the inquisition at length, about the events of last night."  Frastos paused to watch Briac's pantomime of outrage then, narrowing his eyes, continued, "When I attempted to cover up for you, since I didn't want to give the Lieutenant any satisfaction, Tizan accused me of conspiracy, asking all sorts of questions: “Why had we rendezvoused with the locals?”, ”What was the disagreement that resulted in the fight?”, “What part did the woman play in all of this?” 

“Anyhow, he went on and on.  He even had the audacity to accuse us of having secret, intimate relations together.  I cannot say more, other than it was a vile and bestial thought."

                                                                        ~

 

 

(END OF SECTION 23)

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 29

When Canute Yonn was again interrogated, he insisted on the validity (legitimacy) of his previous statement and, without variance, repeated that he had left the horse and a certain portion of the booty with Yenis exactly where he had said he did.  "I'm not that immoral (reprehensible) to forsake a lone woman stranded and vulnerable in an abandoned temple, your Honor."

His assertion made Micen scoff, "You murderous bandit!  After all your abominable acts, you dare to assume such noble, moral airs, with me. I warn you, my patience with you is at an end.  Now, confess!  What have you really done with the booty, other than the trifling amount that was found on you? I said confess, or I'll make you wish you were never born!"

Seeing it was pointless to protest further, Canute imparted what they wanted to hear and, mixing it in with the truth, disclosed how he had given the greater portion of the valuables to Miake Temple in exchange for prayers for his mother's soul.

 "The idea, I profess, had occurred to me in the courtyard of Kuno Temple, when I viewed the tragically exposed bones of the monks, and was reminded of man's brief and futile existence on this earth."

"Such impudence…Tragic bones, indeed!  Go on, but I warn you, just stick to the facts."  Micen motioned for Canute to continue.

Canute lifted his head and, gazing fixedly at the insignia of the Prefect's Office hung before Micen Do, distractedly resumed, "Yes, because the horse proved useless, I had to exchange it and some of the valuables for another one and meant to use the rest to reach safe passage to a mountain refuge."  Canute lapsed into silence again.

 He had hoped to fulfill at least a part of his promise to his mother by escaping to safety and settling down somewhere where no one knew him, where he could grow old and lead an unremarkable life.  A sure fantasy, he had to admit inwardly, yes, a dream that was never meant to be.  A fleeting, wry smile brushed Canute's pallid lips as he closed his eyes and let his body go limp.

"What's the matter with him?  Is he delirious again?  Bring him out of it!"

The bailiff supporting Canute's left arm impatiently tried to nudge Canute out of his trance.  "He's still breathing, Your Honor, but he refuses to respond.  It’s no use, sir, I’m afraid he's out cold now."

"Never mind, let him be." Micen, with a wave of his hand stayed any further attempts to revive Canute.

 "We need not spend any more of this court's time on his testimony.  We've got most of it now, anyway."  Then, with his stern, official visage, Micen ordered that Canute be pilloried until he could reach a supposedly a just decision on the method of execution.

Striking down the gavel, Micen then dismissed (concluded the session) the court.

 As the prisoner was being dragged away, the Prefect, with his secretary, carrying the bulky documents and recorded confessions, retired (withdrew) to his private quarters in back.

Refusing to see anyone, especially Mouro, Micen sunk into his padded chair and began reviewing Canute's confession from start to finish, making notes as he went along.

He then began to dictate to his secretary, changing some parts and eliminating others entirely.

 "When it’s prepared, you will report to me for a final review then you may take the documents to Mouro and have him secure the prisoner's thumb print on the bottom for validation."  Micen having dispensed his final instructions to his secretary turned his back to him and leisurely strolled over to the widow, with his hands thoughtfully clasped behind his back.

 As he peered outside, he grinned in satisfaction.  By the time I hold court tomorrow morning he should have expired, and since there has been no other to contest the case on his behalf, I can foresee no problems.  Hmm, the Luko family should be very grateful to me for my discrete handling of this case, since I've spared them from scandal.  He rubbed his hands expectantly as he returned to his desk.

 Now they should, of course, be held liable for the costs of the necessary bribes to the essential staff members that were present in court at the time of the prisoner's confession; that is if their silence is to be secured indefinitely.  Having reached his desk, he plumped himself into the plush chair and began idly fingering the high pile of documents.

 He was inwardly deliberating how best to approach the Luko family to secure even greater gain, when his thoughts were abruptly disrupted by a knock.

His permission sounded, the underling entered, walked right up to Micen and presented him with the calling card from Esquire Latham Luko.

"Begging your pardon, Your Honor, but, though I informed the honorable gentleman of your wish not to be disturbed, he refuses to go away and insists on waiting until Your Honor is disposed to see him. Shall I have him forcefully ejected? "

“Speak of the devil!” Micen mumbled, then lowering his head, mused. But how on earth did he know, rather, anticipate my intent on paying him a visit this very night?  No matter, he just saved me from the trouble.

 Micen feigning slight annoyance lifted his stern gaze from the document (he pretended to read) and instructed, "No, since he's here, have him come in."

03- LATHAM  LUKO , aged thirty-two

Latham’s stern face, sporting a slight polite smile on his lips, was ushered in at once and, after polite greetings, was shown to a chair.  The congenial felicitations and mutual flattery quickly dispensed with over tea, Latham donning (wearing) a serious demeanor got right to the point and urged Micen to pass swift judgment on Fradel Rurik Korvald when court next resumed, as any undue delay (dragging this matter out) would perpetuate his family’s unwarranted anguish.

 If Micen had not known better, he would have been totally beguiled, by Latham’s feigning ignorance, of the latest (string of) developments in this case.

 It came as no surprise to Latham, however, when the Prefect announced happily that it was not Fradel, but the son of a former servant, Canute Yonn, who was the real culprit. The former gang member had been incarcerated, his confession already obtained (under duress) and, left in the darkest, heavily guarded dungeon to await final verdict.

"Tomorrow morning his case will be first on the agenda when he will be duly sentenced according to law.  As events are already proceeding at a satisfactory pace, there is no reason for you or your family to be at all concerned."

"You are indeed quite proficient Official, to resolve this case expediently, sir.  You really are to be congratulated." Latham circumspectly flattered the Prefect.

 Highly pleased, Micen, after his supposed momentary pondering, gave Latham what he was after, a brief account of the pertinent details of Canute's capture and the key points of the trial.

 Latham Luko masked his unease well as he patiently listened then, nonchalantly (casually) inquired whether Canute's confession had divulged a motive for his heinous crime against the elder Luko.

 “Why had Senson been the sole target; he had never so much as (laid eyes on) met this Canute Yonn? Also, why did this despicable culprit not hurt (victimized) any other members of the Luko family, while he had the chance?” 

Latham was particularly anxious to learn why he, himself, had been spared, but masked it well, behind the seemingly dispassionate general inquiry.  He even, at this point, admitted to his own insignificant, chance encounter with the convict and promptly confessed his cold and haughty treatment, his refusal of Canute's pitiful attempts to gain his acquaintance, with the purpose of securing his patronage.

"I had sensed, even then, that he was not one of our kind, that he was only playing at being a gentleman.  There were too many unknowns in his background and that made me wary.  Now I realize that I had been right about him all along."

He pensively looked away for a moment, “It’s unfortunate that I could not convince my elder brother of my views.”

Returning his undivided attention to Micen, he then asked anxiously, "Tell me, sir; was his motive a misdirected enmity?  Was it an unfortunate act of murder in the course of a robbery, or was it premeditated?"

Most curious indeed, Micen mused.  No questions at all about Yenis's part (involvement) in all of this.  Continuing the charade, he smiled wryly, "Calm yourself, sir.  It won't do (help), for you to get into such a state and injure your health.  As it is, you are now burdened with the elaborate funeral arrangements, on top of bearing (assuming) your elder brother's family responsibilities.  You know very well that I should not be discussing the case with you at all, but since we are such good friends, I feel I can make an exception.  I must caution you, however, that what I'm about to tell you must never leave this room, for reasons which will soon become obvious."

"I am grateful for your discretion, Micen, and your kindness shall not be forgotten." Latham politely bowed his head then sat upright in rapt attention.

"In view of the delicate nature of your sister-in-law's involvement in this case I took the precaution of having the court cleared of all viewers and non-essential staff before a full confession was extracted from Canute Yonn.  I had expected to discover that, after their adulterous affair was exposed, Canute Yonn's hand was forced and he resorted to violence, already palpable (evident) in his nature, to extricate himself from the sticky situation and avoid the impending retribution from Senson.  But, of course, this was not to be the case." Micen rose to his feet and waddled over to the window to look outside.  He could not resist toying with Latham, whose fidgeting in his seat, Micen could well sense, even with his back to Latham.

 Good let him fester a bit and sweat it out. Micen grinned coldly.  Assuming a grim, serious look, Micen returned to his seat to offer Latham more tea.

Not daring to offend the Prefect, Latham assented and sipped his tea in pained silence until Micen put down the empty cup and picked up where he had left off.  "As I was saying, I could not have been more wrong in my assumption, for it turned out to be just another typical case of robbery and murder.  Seeing how your family was so affluent, the ruffian had conspired from the start to rob you by exploiting the weakness, if you will forgive my saying so, of your sister-in-law.  Women are so unreliable, so impressionable, don't you agree?  If you ask me, Senson was too good for the likes of her and certainly did not deserve such treachery.”

“It’s most unfortunate that, during the robbery, Senson awoke and met his untimely end, after confronting the bandit."

Micen's discretion did not go unappreciated.  Latham understood perfectly that he had just heard the altered(distorted) version of events that would be presented in court the following day.

"Unfortunately, however," Micen resumed, "we are beset with difficulties and plagued with obstacles.  The recovery of the valuables, I fear, may be somewhat delayed."

"Please, sir, their recovery is of little consequence to either my family or me.  We are quite pleased now that my brother's murderer has been incarcerated and will be duly punished."

"Of course… of course…  Still, some of the items I'm told are quite irreplaceable, for example one antique jewel box, inlaid with gems and mother of pearl.  Therefore, I will begrudge no expense and leave no stone unturned to effect (achieve) its swift recovery.  Besides which, locating that box may shed some light on some rather haunting puzzles, but I'll refrain from boring you with those now."  Micen, pushing all the right buttons, was deriving a perverse pleasure and some amusement at Latham's expense.

 After letting the other squirm for a brief spell, Micen pretended to change his mind,

 “I’ll let you in on this much, though, as you may know, the box in question was kept on the night table beside Senson's bed.  Am I right?"  Micen paused to receive Latham's nod before continuing.

 "Now, as per affidavit (confession), on the night of Senson's murder, strangely enough, its entire contents were dumped onto the floor.  Senson's steward and chambermaid, both supposedly drugged on the night in question, verified and accounted for all the contents.  Now, why do you suppose the murderer would bother to do that?  To discard them in that way, I mean, especially as these items were of considerable value as well.  Why not just take along the box as is?"

Latham's unexpected reaction, which he failed to completely mask, gave Micen an additional, curious insight.

There had not been enough time for Latham to have been briefed on every detail of Canute's confession, which meant that Latham must have been an eyewitness to the gruesome dismemberment in the aftermath of the murder.  Why had he not then intervened?

Micen scrutinized Latham further.  Was he simply a yellow-bellied coward, who sought to save his own skin, or an unconscionable, cold-hearted opportunist? 

This was not the appropriate time to delve into this investigation, however so, donning (putting on) a solemn smile, Micen changed the subject, "I trust that Senson's funeral arrangements are proceeding swiftly?  If there is anything I can do to assist you in any way, please do not hesitate to ask me.”

“I will come and pay my last respects to him as soon as I've concluded this case tomorrow.  By that time your esteemed brother should be most properly avenged.  On that, sir, you may have my personal assurance."  Micen fell silent and anxiously fingered the pile of documents on his desk.

Latham, taking the hint, stood up and bowed.  "I've already taken far too much of your valuable time, Your Honor." He then thanked Micen most humbly and sincerely.   "I'm afraid our family has put you to too much trouble, sir.  Still, you will not find us ungrateful.  In the days to come we must think of ways of repaying your kindness in full."

His promise delighted Micen.

"You are embarrassing me, sir." The Prefect ejected gleefully as he walked Latham to the door.

 "I am a mere official who is only following procedures and doing his duty.  Why make such a big deal of it?"

 Inwardly, as Micen congratulated himself, he pondered on the identity of the informant in his midst that obviously had such free and easy access to the Lukos. But upon Latham's departure, his discreet investigation and the uncovered facts had completely exonerated his chief suspect, his assistant Mouro.

04- ALIBY

In truth, Mouro, having anticipated this, had already taken great pains to secure himself a tight alibi while directing all suspicion to likely culprits such as the head bailiff Hecun and the court physician Sullen.

Latham Luko, true to his word, lost no time in sending his agents to dispense generous bribes to all those who had been present in court for Canute's confession. 

                                                                                 ~

During the small hours when everyone was fast asleep, the guards stationed outside of Canute’s cell, having suddenly overcome with unusual fatigue, they had all fallen into deep stupor. In that short span, unbeknownst to all, a strange (bizarre) occurrence took place; the prison cell which had housed Canute, suddenly was infused with vapors and blinding light.  When it passed (cleared up), Canute’s strung up body (still locked in the pillories) had entirely disappeared without a trace.

Next morning at dawn, when Canute's missing body was discovered, Micen, wishing to avoid controversy and likely trouble from superstitious groups, gave the order of secrecy on pain of death; and so, the matter was expediently covered-up (whitewashed, smoke screened). A short time later, Micen in court, briefly announced that prisoner Canute Yonn succumbing to his excessive injuries, had expired during the night  and his corpse had already been promptly disposed (Another condemned, disfigured prisoner’s corpse in place of Canute Yonn's, had been chopped up  and then fed to the wild dogs); subsequently, a different version of Canute’s confession was read out loud, and no one in court cried foul. Earlier still, a pseudo (fake) Canute’s head, badly disfigured and unidentifiable, had been secretly transported to the Luko mansion for apt disposition: According to prescribed ancient customs, the perpetrator’s (culprit Canute’s) skull, once stripped of flesh and scorched by fire, would then be placed beneath Senson's corpse’s feet at his burial ceremony, condemning Canute's spirit to eternal servitude to the deceased Luko clansman.

As it were, even though Senson's murder case had generated much public interest, only a fraction of the previous crowd of spectators had filed into the courtroom on the day of sentencing.  Many of the curious onlookers were, understandably, scared off by their memory of the grizzly-red-haired Devil.

05- GRIZZLY RED-HAIRED DEVIL

 When the prisoners, Yenis Luko and Fradel Rurik Korvald were next brought in court, the sorry state of the woman created quite a stir and a shock among few that were in attendance.  Disappointedly, Fradel Rurik Korvald, however, looked none the worse for his ordeal.

The presiding prefect Micen Do in his splendid attire, feigned confidence (boldness), despite the fact he had tripled his posting of guards, as he proceeded through the preliminaries and moved to the judgment and sentencing.

Yenis Luko was sentenced to be decapitated (guillotined), the execution to be carried out at noon on the same day on the public execution grounds in the center of the city.  Upon hearing this she shrieked and passed out cold.  She too, was then dragged out by two bailiffs and put into the cell for the condemned to await (wait for) the appointed hour of her doom.

At this point a second squad of bailiffs entered the courtroom and took up positions with the first.  The prisoner Fradel Rurik Korvald was brought in before the bench for sentencing.  Micen spoke slowly, aware of the crowd in the room holding its breath and straining to hear every word.

"Prisoner Fradel Rurik Korvald, by the judgment of this Court, you are found to be not guilty of the charges of murder, mutilation and robbery of the Honorable Esquire Senson Luko.  You are therefore absolved of all charges and no punishment will be laid against you."

The crowd groaned and gritted their teeth in contempt, they had been hoping for additional execution that afternoon.

"The court will now consider the charge of trespassing on the restricted grounds of Kuno Temple in violation of Imperial Edict."

Suddenly all ears perked up and a dead silence prevailed.

"Despite your ingenious defense, and your plea for leniency, the law is most explicit in its stipulation that no exceptions, regardless of circumstance, be made.  In accordance with that law, I judge you, the defendant, guilty as charged and sentence you to death, also to be carried out by beheading."

The crowd breathed a sigh of relief, anticipating their entertainment, only to be disappointed once more.

"Due to the consideration of you special circumstance, I hereby set the place of execution as the Capital city, Channing, and the date of execution to be a day after the completion of the services due his Imperial Highness, Zakhertan  Yozdek.  The exact time and date are to be determined by the Board of Punishment in that city.  You, of course, are free to appeal your case to the Board before that time, and also to seek an Imperial Pardon from His Highness.  Commencing at daybreak tomorrow, you will be transported with armed escort to Channing in an enclosed and locked prisoner's cage.”

“You will be let out of the cage for a brief physical examination upon your successful transfer to the authority of Magistrate Rue of Cheabirger Prefecture in Tenzo Province and not before then."

06- FRADEL RURIK KORVALD (NEVETSECNUAC)

 As he was being led away by four bailiffs, Fradel Rurik Korvald (Nevetsecnuac) reflected gravely on how he could make good his escape from this impasse.

The impressed spectators remained in awe of Micen's courage.  After nervously glancing about, they converged outside in groups to mechanically nod their heads and exchange similar views in whispers.

"See, His Honor cannot be intimidated!"

"Micen Do is really a firm judge."

"He's to be commended for his courage."

"He upholds the law to the letter, without exception."

"To be transported all that way in that fashion is as good as being condemned to death, the prisoner will never survive the ordeal."

"As sure as my nose is on my face, Fradel Rurik Korvald will never reach the Capital alive to appeal his case."

"I tell you; I wouldn't be so bold or as brave as His Honor.  Not with that threat hanging over my head."

"Nor would I!"

"Nor I!"

One after another, they all concurred then left to get some lunch before making their way to the public execution grounds.

Though the proceedings had created an excessive backlog of cases, which would normally force the Prefect to convene court twice daily, Micen Do deferred all the pending hearings to a later day and, with a stack of documents tucked under his arm and a heavy guard at his side, left the building shortly before noon.

Now of course few had harbored the curious enigma (conundrum) in mind and had queried inwardly of what had really happened to Canute Yonn. This dilemma, however, would never be resolved for years to come.

 But Canute Yonn had in fact was rescued by a non-other than, invincible warrior called Zonar.

07- ZONAR KUNTZU

At prior time, whilst the apprehended Canute Yonn burdened with cangue and chains, awaited in the hallway for his turn in court, to be taken before Micen Do, Zonar, detecting Canute’s unusual aura and so, fleetingly manifesting there, had only askance (sideways), given Canute a cursory look. But in that instance, Zonar’s keen senses (radar, insight, mental probe) having promptly penetrated Canute’s mind and the depths of his soul, he’d promptly learned all he needed to know about this steadfast young man. Canute’s entire life history (his tragic, past ordeals) then an open book, and furthermore, what his portended future was, this intrigued same time had infuriated, Zonar. After that, Zonar could not idly stand by and let this remarkable young man be subjected to extreme torture till he perished at the hands of such despicable villains.  So yes, Zonar had paid Canute a visit, on that last night of his incarceration, before the day of execution.  And true enough, if he had not, Canute would have expired from his severe wounds that very night.

In that blinding flash of light and vapors, manifesting for a spell, he had freed Canute Yonn from his chains and then instantly transported (whisked, zipped) him to a, far away place, a densely forested hilltop, in a remote northern region of Wenjenkun, bordering Korion. There, Zonar invoked one of his invocations (spells) and instantly restored Canute Yonn, to his former physical and mental health.  Canute coming to, was shocked to see Zonar before him, however, quickly overcoming his shock and fear, grasping what must have happened, he'd fallen on his knees and humbly thanked his benefactor for saving him. Zonar, after simply nodding, snapped his fingers and the two were instantly transported to a deep cavern in the mountainous region of Korion.  Having recognized the great potential of Canute Yonn, Zonar, scribbled an undecipherable (obscure, cryptic), message on a just then produced peace of parchment, sealed it up in a bamboo tube.  Zonar entrusted this to the care of Canute Yonn, along with his brief verbal instructions. Canute, hence, learned of which path to follow to safely descend the mountain and to reach a remote mountain village, ruled by discerning and honorable clan. This ancient indigenous tribe populated by warrior type hunters and gatherers (herbalists) would welcome him and if he cared to stay there a while, a season or two, he would then learn how to fight, ride and hunt, as well, acquire rare, valuable, lifesaving aptitudes (abilities, pointers) that would serve him well in future years. Canute was then directed (instructed) to, where he should go from thereon, whom to contact to receive arms, employment and place to permanently set up roots. Remembering another detail just then, Zonar reached into his inner pocket and gave Canute Yonn a leather pouch, containing a generous amount of funds, (Korion’s monetary means, monies), for the anticipated, future incurred expenses. Zonar then impatiently, dismissing Canute’s sincere heartfelt gratitude and words of thanks, (for he had to be urgently present elsewhere), he simply nodded and said, “There is no need. As you are destined for greatness, we will meet again one day.” And then, puff, instantly he (Zonar) vanished (disappeared) into thin air, leaving Canute Yonn all alone in that enormous cave.

                                                                           ~

(END OF SECTION 29)

ASSASINS - SECTION 6

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE ASSASSINS- SECTION 6

Outside the cabin the ongoing combat by degrees had further intensified. Now they had as well the sudden snowstorm to contend with. The blinding swirls in part aided Svein and Stark who were adept at fighting in all kinds of weather.

 

Unfortunately for Brandt, already impeded by the erupting gusts of wind and snow, he failed to intercept a lightning   strike from the side and so was catapulted off his feet.

With Brandt’s sword flying from his hand, his body next in a headlong thrust was projected through the air straight at the thick trunk of an ancient tree. The severity of the hit immediately rendered him unconscious.   After a spell when he came to, the fighting had fortuitously steered well away from his position. 

Everyone being too preoccupied with the deadly struggle, none had noted his regaining   consciousness. Seizing this opportunity, as his head throbbed anyhow and stars still danced before his eyes, besides which his body having taken quite a beating ached all over- Brandt   closed his eyes and remained perfectly still where he lay. His intent was to purloin (pilfer) some time to consider his options while he regained his full faculties and strength. 

Brandt’s subsequent stealthy observance revealed that Duan ‘s discarded sword with a broken blade lay to the side as Duan presently was using Brandt’s own sword.

Blue streaks of icy light flashed from the fierce clashes of the twin swords, engaged by opposite forces.  On each turn one blocked the other's assaults effortlessly.

 Brandt   seethed in contemptuous rage as he noted how despite Stark’s apparent impediment- fresh blood from the previous wounds being ripped apart, in conjunction with the newly incurred ones increasingly soaking the bandages- latter still fought with incessant (relentless, constant), enduring strength, skill and agility.  Meanwhile the young one’s prowess was something akin to legendary warriors. Periodically the three would be locked in such a fierce, deadly combat of such dizzying speed, that the assaults and defensives became barely visible to the naked eye in that whirling wall of wind, blades, snow and debris.

Oh, such a feat, a truly spectacular (outstanding) sight! Witnessing these near fatal clashes and murderous charges, Brandt   despite himself, for a spell, had remained in awe of their brilliant magnificence.

 His abhorrence of the nemesis was such, however, that all too quickly his face darkened, when he rebounded from this temporary sense of wonderment. 

Blast him! Brandt   presently bit his lip and cursed under his breath, as his covert focus once again was affixed on Stark.  Wounded and old, yet the fiend still fights with the strength of a hundred men.  No doubt he is aided by demons! Hmmm…This remarkable youth and he, together they represented an invincible (unbeatable) force; but perhaps individually, he inwardly concurred: yes, individually they could be bested.

It was at this point, recalling an old axiom about the two fighting tigers, that the very solution hit (struck) Brandt: his would be subsequent course of action, the only plausible option. Brandt’s heart more at peace now, he closed his eyes in respite. He would wait out the fighting tigers till they wore each other out.

Furiously however, it had continued seemingly endlessly, with the same vigor (dynamism, energy) and intensity. Though the contenders had by then divested themselves of most of their garments which now lay scattered about on the ground, and the biting winds had picked up to form rime (hoarfrost) on their hair, rivulets of sweat still ran down their foreheads, cheeks and over their bare chests.

Brandt   while remaining   perfectly still and, waiting for this stalemate to end, with hypnotic force of his mind had effectively blocked out the ravages of the cold from affecting his body.  But another sort of danger was creeping in, for the scent of warm blood fresh from the combatants’ wounds intermingling with sweat had attracted countless glowing eyes in the thick bushes around the clearing.  Saliva dripping from their mouths the hungry pack of wolves waited patiently for a chance to strike (and devour the resulting, wounded prey).

 Brandt felt as though he would burst stealthily observing how Duan breathed hot, venomous vapors from his nostrils as he wielded his sword with colossal (enormous) lethal force; yet each strike was deflected with such maddening   equanimity.  With no visible signs of strain or slowing down, both Svein and Stark kept up with their consistent fighting and superb assault and offensives. 

Blast! Brandt   seethed (fumed) considering this chink (unexpected turn) in his otherwise plausible plan.  Duan should have bested them by then or at least weakened them, but the fiend had finally met his match.

                                                                   ~

 

Stark had detected (been aware) the precise moment Brandt had regained consciousness (lucid state) then later still, noted latter’s subsequent deception (the façade). Mulling over the possible reasons Stark had kept a furtive eye on Brandt while he fought on then, deferring this concern for the more impending ploy, at a specific point in time drawing near to Svein, Stark shouted out a foreign sounding word to him.

 Following Svein’s barely discernible nod (his acquiescence) the swift coordinated assaults executed with such brilliant exactitude, once more forced Duan to shift to the defensive. Whilst he was being kept at bay, at an opportune moment at lightning speed Svein and Stark exchanged their weapons.

Presently, with his innate agility and speed, wielding the ancestor sword, Svein became even more indomitable (invincible).  Temporarily cast in dire straits, Duan summoned his most intrinsic powers and incredible zeal, however, to just barely stand his ground.

                                                                         ~                                                                             

All this time while remaining perfectly motionless, Brandt, his intense loathing of Stark fueling his resolve racked his brains till, he finally (hatched) arrived at the only plausible way to bring about a swift resolution to this maddening impasse. Mindful of the two poisoned stilettos concealed in the seams of his leather boots, he then biding his time, waited for an apt opportunity.

When the fighting eventually drew closer in proximity to Brandt, taking advantage of the fact that Duan’s total attention was focused on fending Svein and Stark’s synchronized, choreographed attacks, Brandt   nimbly sprung to his feet and rushed forth to with a lightening   thrust bury his stiletto (blade) deep into and up Duan's back.

"Damn your treachery!” Duan’s rancorous side glance pinpointing Brandt, he gasped.  “You’ll pay for this!” he licked the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth; but his malicious intent was interrupted when Brandt   nimbly veered, and instead, Svein’s deadly strike finding its mark, cut a line clear across (sliced right through) Duan’s chest and stomach.  Duan staggered on his feet for a second, then fell to the ground lifeless, his eyes bulging open and his mouth gaping with curses still frozen on his lips.  Covered in blood, his innards dangling, he looked (represented) a most gruesome sight. 

Brandt   with his bloody stiletto still poised to strike, in a surprise move just then, had adroitly jumped back way clear of the circle of combat and stood there defensively facing Svein.

"What's the meaning of this?” Stark raged at Brandt, effectively blocking Svein’s scathing rebuke.

"Let me finish him off, Uncle; his ruse is too obvious."” Svein glared at Brandt.  I’ve met him before, on my last trip to town, and trust me on this; he is no friend but a foe.”

 

"Sir, I beseech you.  Hear what I have to say, before condemning me." Brandt   interposed in a respectful, yet forceful tone, facing Stark while monitoring Svein from the corner of his eye. His conciliatory gesture of throwing his weapon aside at odds with his wry grin, he now grumbled. "Please allow me this opportunity to explain."

"Speak up, then!” Stark shouted sternly (austerely).

With a great show, Brandt bowed then crossed his clenched fists across his chest in show of humility, knowing that Stark, an honorable man by reputation, would not harm or allow another (Svein) to bring harm to an unarmed man.

 

(END OF SECTION 6)