Showing posts with label demise. Show all posts
Showing posts with label demise. Show all posts

Thursday, 25 September 2025

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION 13

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION 13

 Zhadol had narrowed his eyes and had spoken thoughtfully that last part, but then he sharply looked up and grimaced, "Yet, you know what, Egil Viggoaries is not entirely to be blamed for all that he’d…. “Zadol abruptly stayed his tongue, then simply shook his head. “What I mean to say is that he’s only the product of his circumstances.  Zakhertan Yozdek’s former Chief Eunuch, Mokan had a lot to do with molding Egil Viggoaries’character; yes, since the time he’d been made his guardian, when Egil was in his early teens.  Now there was a devious, callous brute; his heart was black, far blacker than Egil Viggoaries's now. You are most fortunate that his early death spared you from having any dealings with him.”


01- CHIEF EUNUCH MOKAN

Zadol pensively looked away for a time, then after a nod, said: “Since the time Egil Viggoaries’s training was entrusted to that demon Chief Eunuch, furthermore, he was given free rein to do anything he pleased…. well, is it any wonder that Egil Viggoaries is the way he is now?  In a rare, vulnerable moment once, much to my surprise, Egil tearfully opened his heart to me and confessed his deepest, darkest secrets; how he had been savagely, brutally …. oh, I cannot speak of such….” Zhadol suddenly dropped his head and fell silent, as involuntary shudder just then passed through him.

"Then I should think that His Excellency Egil Viggoaries definitely had a hand in his guardian's untimely and rather suspicious demise (end).  After all, didn't he have everything to gain and nothing to lose?"  Yennic's pitiless (cold) tone was deliberately provocative.

"I see that you are not above lending an ear to these unsubstantiated, idle and malicious rumors that obviously persist to date." Zhadol huffed angrily.

"Mokan had a multitude of enemies and any one of them was capable of engineering that bizarre, freakish accident, infinitely more capable than a mere boy barely fourteen years of age.  Mokan got exactly what he deserved.  Frankly, it’s strange that someone didn't off that brute long before."   Zhadol gritted his teeth then, growing quiet, looked away.

“How fervently (vehemently) you rush to the defense of Egil Viggoaries, while inadvertently perhaps, exposing your searing contempt for your old benefactor, Mokan.” Yennic mused, studying Zhadol out of the corner of his eye.

 “One would think that you shared Egil Viggoaries's pain at first hand, despite your prior claims.  Well, why not?  I should be cross with you for keeping the truth from me, and your denial has confirmed my suspicions.  Egil Viggoaries was only fourteen at the time, but you were nineteen and certainly felt protective of him.  You both were in on the conspiracy, weren't you?  Though perhaps I'll milk the confession and the details some other time from you.”

Assuming a gentler disposition now, Yennic on the outset conceded, smiling, "True enough, it’s too far-fetched to consider… mmm… true enough, such a deed would be way beyond any boy's capacity.  Still, Mokan's demise was very beneficial for His Excellency Egil Viggoaries.  Wasn't he chosen for some personal, private service to the Crown Prince Herleif, shortly afterwards?  A decidedly advantageous gain, wouldn't you say?"


02- PRINCE HERLEIF (1)


"You would think so, wouldn't you?" Zhadol scoffed.

 "First of all, the appointment came much, much later and secondly, there, too, Egil Viggoaries suffered unspeakable abuse at the hands of Zakhertan Yozdek's once, favored son Herleif.”

“No, Yennic," Zhadol asserted grimly, "it was not an advantageous position.  In fact, it was quite the opposite.  The damage done by his humiliation and degradation was almost irreparable.  However, it was somewhat countered by the scant attention and due recognition he received from our Sovereign."

 Zhadol shook his head. “Yes, I could tell you horror stories about that episode in Egil's life as well.  Still, while emotionally bound to His Highness, Egil to date credits all blame on his rebellious father: he’s been held solely responsible for all Egil’s suffered pain and abominations since the time of Egil’s abandonment at infancy.  In fact, so doggedly Egil loathes, to the very marrow of his bones, his biological father, that I think…" But then Zhadol suddenly falling silent, pensively looked away at some distant point.

 When Yennic drew closer and appeared, about to speak, Zhadol, surmising the inquiry, shook his head and answered readily, "No, Yennic, I don't know the insurgent Lord’s name.  I don't even think Egil Viggoaries knows for certain. "

"Then again, maybe he does know it; but he feels far too shamed to…” Zhadol in afterthought shrugged then stroked his beard.

Subsequently, his brain flooded with a rush of memories Zhadol, nodded absentmindedly as he inwardly examined the scant clues he’d previously overlooked. "Yes, maybe he does know, that would explain so much!"

“Shamed…?”  It was such an odd choice of words, that, Yennic, meanwhile, had looked questioningly at Zhadol; but the Commander ‘s mind already drifted off to distant memories, mired in his own recollections, he simply ignored Yennic.

In the ensuing minutes Zhadol then had quietly reminisced about the infrequent moments of kindness he'd experienced with Egil Viggoaries and the knotted muscles of his face relaxed their hold fractionally.  With a softer expression he looked up and smiled, "You know, Yennic, he does have a vulnerable side to him, though you'd rarely see it for he never drops his guard, even when asleep."


03-EGIL VIGGORIES

"Listening to your accounts one could easily be misled, or worse, disarmed, by His Excellency Egil Viggoaries." Yennic laughed cynically. "You paint a picture of a victimized, vulnerable, oh so tragic being!  How can you speak kindly of him after all you've seen, after all the atrocities you've witnessed and after all your suffering at his hands?  Is abandonment, or a deprived childhood love, any excuse for all his sins (depravities) he’d committed, or was it just his evil innate nature surfacing to begin with?  I'd suspect you'd find something nice to say about even the most vicious beast as he stood above you, threatening to devour you whole."  Yennic grinned, shaking his head.

"I've always said that you are too soft hearted.”  “Or does it go deeper than that?  Could it simply be guilt? And so, despite it all, you view Egil as replacement for your long-lost little brother-one you’d failed to protect; Egil hence, filling that void of mentoring and protecting, as means for absolution?" Yennic conjectured (theorised), as he sternly (unsympathetically, hardheartedly) scrutinized Zhadol.

Just then however, Yennic’s eyes suddenly lit up and a sinister smile brushed his lips as if he recalled a new way to goad the Commander.  "Speaking of Egil Viggoaries's favorites, I just realized it’s been some time since we've heard about Heng Erling."


04-- HENG ERLING

Still perched on the tree branch, Nevetsecnuac momentarily tensed at hearing that familiar name.  So much had happened since that fatal encounter.  A cold shiver rippled through him as he instantly recalled Heng Erling's deception, the intense combat and finally, that shattering disclosure (revelation) that had irretrievably altered his future. (Detailed account of this is at- Book 6- The Assassins- Section 17)

 

"You didn't do something drastic to Heng Erling, did you?"  Yennic's teasing tone disclosed a slight hint of jealousy.

"I hate to disappoint you but no, I didn't.  He left some time ago on a secret mission and I did not care to ask His Excellency anything about it."  Shrugging his shoulders dispassionately, Zhadol looked away.

"Understandably", Yennic masked his cruelty to play at being sympathetic once more.

"Well, perhaps he'll have the good fortune to fall prey to some serious adversary and never darken your thoughts again.  Tell me, though; was there any truth to those rumors concerning Heng Erling and His Excellency?"


05--HENG ERLING

"You know it well!"   Zhadol fixed his cold gaze back on the Lieutenant.

"But I thought that they had despised each other all along?" Yennic needled.

"The animosity between them was real enough.  They were rivals since childhood.  Heng Erling had always been close to the Crown Prince Herleif and never missed a chance to entice Prince Herleif into torturing Egil Viggoaries for being different.  Yet you know how opposites attract.  Besides, I believe Heng's recent change of heart was instigated by his mother's ambition.  That artful, calculating enchantress (wiccan) Lady Lingrace controls him absolutely. She has high ambitions for him, you know, particularly since His Highness has now two remaining living sons and only one living illegitimate one that we know of. “

“Wasn’t Lady Lingrace a lady-in waiting, to Lady Elin?” Yennic pondered out loud. “That’s right, she had been attendant to Prince Qijerrik and Prince Herleif’s mother Lady Elin, during which, she had an affair with His R.H. Zakhertan Yozdek. Later still, her husband Gustav Erling was executed for treason; Heng’s elder siblings were promptly executed, but the younger Heng Erling was spared, and we all know the reason, why? Rumors had it, because he was His Majesty Zakhertan Yozdek’s illegitimate son. Lady Lingrace is considered old now, she has lost most of her attractiveness, but still is around and furthermore, maintains most of her power.”


06- LADY LINGRACE

“You would think so, wouldn’t you?  But I think that is not entirely true. Meanwhile, she must have noticed the balance of power shifting towards Egil Viggoaries lately and so pushed her son into aligning with the sure victor.” Zhadol pensively ejected.   

"And she thinks that, when it comes to it, His Excellency Egil Viggoaries will politely step aside?"  Yennic could not hold back a laugh.

"You're dangling over the (razor’s) blade’s edge again!"   Zhadol knitted his brows in anger.  "I warned you about that kind of dangerous talk!"

"I was only hypothesizing; I meant nothing by it." Yennic retracted it at once, grinning sheepishly.  "His Excellency's devotion and loyalty to His Highness is above question.  Everyone knows that."

 Zhadol elected not to dwell on it.  "Come now.  Patient and tactful you are not.  I know you've been burning with curiosity all night, so why haven't you asked me yet about the cause of the recent trouble between Egil Viggoaries and myself instead of talking about nearly everything else?"

"I figured you'd get around to it eventually."  Yennic shrugged his shoulders, feigning indifference.  "Besides, you'd assured me that there was nothing to worry about."

"Pretend all you want; I know you better."  Zhadol laughed in good humor.

"Well then, I'll tell you but don't expect any elaboration on it. “

                                                                                 ~

 

(END OF SECTION 13)

Monday, 21 April 2025

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC- THE STATE OF THINGS- SECTION 14

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 14

After Magistrate Yakove Zewe’s departure, Judicial Commissioner Birgergu Gunt had ridden his closed carriage at breakneck speed to the residence of his good friend the Provincial Governor Rexi, in order to submit a report.  On his arrival, however, he was informed that the Governor was away on a short pleasure trip and was expected to return in a fortnight.  After leaving a message with Rexi's trusted aide, Birgergu returned home not in the least bit ruffled by the distant smoke and the glow of the fire on the horizon; subsequently, he entered his study in order to manage some pertinent neglected matters. First, removing a specific document from his locked cabinet, he placed it under the lamplight and perused it carefully searching for key correlations (crucial parallels, any links) or discrepancies between its account of facts and the detailed report of the Magistrate’s.

All was in accord, save for one: the glowing description of the stranger's horse remarkably resembled Yakove's account of Fradel Rurik Korvald's mount.



 It could very well be a coincidence. This gave Birgergu no concern as, shrugging his shoulders slightly; he put the reports aside and picked up another document from the pile for examination. Despite his outward calm, however, he was inwardly fuming over the failure of the bandit's attack on Fradel, which now complicated matters greatly.  He frowned, thinking of the berating he would get from the hot-tempered Governor, and then his thoughts reverted to Fradel's letter.  Dropping everything, he rang for his trusted steward and verbally relayed his wishes to him.

That night a cloaked figure quietly stole through the darkened alleyways to rendezvous with another whom, scaling the city wall with a cat's agility, vaulted onto a waiting horse and galloped into the hills.



At dawn the next day Birgergu's trusted aide handed him a packet.  After examining the contents in his study, Birgergu donned (gave) a wry smile and cast both the letter and its wrapping into the fire.  A short time later the aide returned with an urgent message from the Governor and Birgergu made haste to respond to the summons.

 

                                                                                  ~

 

"I don't want to know anything about it!" the Governor Rexi raged at Birgergu with icy finality.  "Just get it done!"

"It has already been taken care of, Your Excellency." Birgergu assured him.

"Then why do you bother me with this?"  Rexi shoved (thrust) the report in Birgergu's face. 

"I have no time for such trifles.  You are dismissed."  Before the Commissioner of Justice could even respond Rexi turned his back on him and stormed out of the anteroom.

 "I'm surrounded by incompetents.” His voice trailed off as he began to muse: 

How can I ever gain favor with His Excellency (Eunuch) Egil Viggoaries when a simple matter like this cannot even be resolved.  That idiot Birgergu assured me of Fradel Rurik Korvald's demise; that he would disappear without a trace.  He's as incompetent as that doltish brother-in-law of his.  They've both managed to botch things up oh, so perfectly!  I should have taken the matter into my own hands from the outset, instead of relying on that idiot.

His steps had led him into his private chambers.  Entering in a huff, he sank his heavy frame down on the couch.  Seeing his foul mood, the servants all kept their distance, all but hiding in the corners.


03- PROVINCIAL GOVERNOR REXI


Seething in anger, Rexi reflected on the origins of the Eunuch's orders, the ongoing struggle between Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren and the Minister of Internal Security Egil Viggoaries, as each vied (contended) for significant clout (portion of power) at Imperial Court.  Viggoaries's latest attempt to undermine Lamont's inroads with the emperor’s favorite concubine, Lady Sejon, had led to the confidential word sent to him to oversee the Eunuch's interest in the matter of the Lady's favorite poet, Fradel Rurik Korvald.

 Rexi still remembered his delight at accepting the task and his assurances of prompt, favorable results.  Angrily he stamped his foot to purge his mind of the ugly, stubborn trepidation (foreboding) of the possibility of dud (failure), but the persistent, gnawing doubt and the consequences of a repetition of Birgergu's inability (incompetence) to set right what, by now, had gone so terribly wrong, so terrified him that all the blood drained from his face.  A cold shiver ran down Rexi’s spine, as his mind viciously fixed on the notorious reputation of Egil Viggories’s brutish intolerance of the least flop (failure). Springing to his feet, his brows stubbornly knit together, he paced the floor in agitation.

"What is it, darling?" the bewitching beauty but half his age mewed.  Her eyes still puffed from sleep; she had parted the bed curtains alluringly.  Though it was nearly noon, she yawned and stretched, settling back into sleep.

How beautiful she is!  This enchanting siren was a recent acquisition from his previous excursion.  Recalling the pleasures of last night, a smile grew on Rexi's lips, and the color returned hotly to his cheeks.  Going over, he gently sat at the edge of the bed.  Her sweet perfume assailed his nose, intoxicating his senses and enticing him to fondle her cheek once more.



"Oh, let me sleep!" she purred.  "I'm tired.  You wouldn't let me nap at all last night."

Grinning mischievously, he followed her under the covers as all his previous concerns and fury dissipated in her scent.

                                                                                       ~

At cockcrow that morning, as Birgergu received Fradel's letter, Magistrate Yakove and a few of his close associates had raised parting toasts to the scholar and had escorted him to the city gates.  Despite his protests, Fradel had been constrained to accept the protection of a squad of fifteen stout, well-armed bodyguards under the leadership of a lieutenant Zujor.  They were to deliver Fradel safely to the borders of the province.

With the walls of the great city long since lost in the distance, the party of seventeen traveled the lugubrious road at a canter for half a day, each cocooned in their thoughts.

 The uninspiring, desolate ground they traversed was but occasionally dotted with naked hillocks and the monotony left them riding in the miasma of a dream.

Fradel's reverie meandered to thoughts of his blood brother, Nevetsecnuac Alric Therran Valamir, and a troubled expression crossed his face.  To purge his heart of this longing and regret, he turned his gaze to the limitless sky, not heeding the refreshing wind that caressed his exposed neck.  He watched with misty eyes the white, billowing clouds as they converged, then parted, and then sailed (wisped) away across the sky.  When he lowered his gaze and looked ahead, he saw a small, scrub-covered knoll in their path, a precursor of a number of undulating, forested hills that skirted a great mountain whose peak seemed to scratch the clouds.

I don't remember ever having crossed such a mountain. Fradel reflected, surveying these strange surroundings.  Yet, if it was the guard's aim to injure me, they could have done it long ago.  Opportunities had abounded on that desolate path, so devoid of habitations or inns.

 He was about to query the stone-faced horseman alongside him regarding this choice of route when, quite precipitously, Fiery Comet halted and refused to advance any further.

Misconstruing this delay as Fradel's intent, Zujor left his scout and approached to reassure the scholar.

 "The reconnaissance bodes well.  The forest extending beyond these hills is clear of any danger.  If you desire, sir, we could take a short sojourn here and lunch in the shade of those trees."

Before Fradel could respond Fiery Comet, in another surprise move, suddenly bolted off on a course tangential to their line of advance (intended direction).

Zujor shouted Fradel to stop as he and the rest of the guards simultaneously fell into a hot pursuit.  That same instant a shrill whistle was heard from behind the woodland hill as a large body of armed brigands poured onto the road, brandishing their swords, charging by with the force of an avalanche out to bury its prey.



 Only the scout stood on his ground, a look of mute surprise froze on his face as his head hit the earth.  Alarmed, Zujor ordered two of his ablest men to forge ahead after the swiftly disappearing Fradel as he and the other dozen wheeled their horses about to bar the road at a defile between two hillocks.

"And just where do you think you're going, knave?" Zujor bellowed at the top of his voice.  So fierce was the lieutenant's cry that the point rider's horse stumbled, toppling its rider to the ground.

"Clear the way if you wish to live!" boomed the voice of the new Bandit Chief, as he whipped his horse to the fore.

 "Our business is not with you.  We only want revenge on the cursed scholar Fradel."

  As he brandished his sword his men let up a mighty yell to spur their murderous charge.

"You'll have to go through me and Hell first!"  Gritting his teeth the brave Zujor glowered at the new Bandit Chief as he steadied his horse, and his squad lowered their lances to meet the charge.

 The fierce fighting and bloodletting that ensued lasted several hours. Swords flailed the air and spears thrust out like pumps as the horses' hooves churned up the turf.  Though lieutenant Zujor and his men were all competent fighters, their adversaries, the bandits, were impregnable (in numbers) and unsurpassed in their cunning and maneuvers.



 When Zujor's strength ebbed, he was mercilessly cut down, sliced clear through from shoulder to waist and the four remaining guards dispersed in panic in all directions.

A small force was allocated to hunt them down while the main body of bandits, responding in one voice to their Chief's command, forged ahead after Fradel.

Riding their superb beasts on the wind, they soon overtook the two guards.  As a few stayed behind to engage the soldiers, the rest chewed on the dust trail Fradel had left behind.  The distance between Fradel and his pursuers widened further with every minute.  Fiery Comet, unequaled in agility and speed, pushed on until, diving into the wall of the forest, they were both lost to human sight.

For countless hours the relentless bandits scoured the dense forest, an evil place with hidden dangers of its own where ancient trees dramatically screened out the sun or altogether, turning day into night, blotting out the sky.  A lookout, climbing to the top of the tallest tree, ardently surveyed the area beyond the forest with his eagle eyes until finally, he spotted a lone, snaking trail of dust in the southeast that disappeared into a crevice between two hills.

 Racing towards it, they traversed a great distance until the strengths of both men and beast were spent beyond their endurance.  It was as though Fradel had been swallowed up by the earth or had vanished into thin air.  With the valley veiled in the shadows of twilight they set up camp, not daring to concede defeat and resolved to continue on with their search at the first break of day.

 

(END OF SECTION 14)

 

                                                                                       ~

 


Monday, 6 January 2025

THE ASSASSINS - SECTION 10

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE ASSASSINS - SECTION 10


"Dufo, Kundrick Dufo?  Where have I heard that name before?” Stark (Asger) sounded a somewhat muted (whispered) query.

"Please forgive my presumption, my Lord, but, as I have understood it, you’re Lordship had the privilege of being tutored by numerous famed scholars in your youth, one of whom..."

"But of course!" Stark (Asger) raised an impatient hand recalling at once his esteemed teacher Sorgun Dufo and his son Kundrick; a meek little boy of two Kundrick was then, always accompanying his father to the study but remaining   attentive yet quiet as a mouse in the background.  Even so, Stark (Asger) stole a dubious glance at Alec.  "You are exceptionally well informed about things pertaining to me, sir."

Alec's response however was timely interrupted by an inquiry from Svein, and the details concerning Stark’s (Asger’s) tutor Sorgun, and son Kundrick were briefly relayed.

Stark (Asger) then lapsed into momentary silence, as images from the past, when he was but eleven years old, succinctly played out before his mind's eye.

                                                                       ~

                                     

In that fleeting moment, Stark’s (Asger’s) thoughts had trailed to this unusually tall, thin, distinguished scholar, clad in immaculate, black attire, with his deep, penetrating, lugubrious(melancholy) eyes and unchanging, serious expression who spoke softly with weighty words that commanded your undivided attention.  Perhaps the strictest of his tutors, Sorgun Dufo, had won Asger's lasting respect and awe.  From the beginning   Asger was enthralled by all the mystery that had surrounded his esteemed teacher Sorgun Dufo's past (previous years), and he recalled how tirelessly, but nonetheless fruitlessly, he had tried to get at the facts.  What little information he had at first procured had been gleaned over the longest while from hints his father and mother had let fall about this scholar.


01- SORGUN DUFO


 For unknown reasons, scholar Sorgun Dufo and his only son Kundrick had left their stately home in far off Fukken province under the cover of night, never to return.  They had already traveled an immeasurable distance towards their mysterious destination when, dogged by several misfortunes and the incurred expenses, they were left destitute and stranded in Toren province. 

Asger's father, Lord Wutenzar Thuxur Marrog Zhon, recognizing the scholars worth the instant of their chance encounter, had treated Sorgun with utmost courtesy and respect and, in keeping with his generous nature, had invited Sorgun to be his honored guest, lodged in their finest guest house for the duration of their indefinite stay. 

The old Lord's warm hospitality and lavish gifts had, in turn, constrained Sorgun to stay on longer at the Zhon residence and to become Asger's tutor in order to reciprocate a small measure of his host's kindness.

All seemed to go well until, one day quite unexpectedly, Lui Durek, a distant relative, visited them.  At the informal reception feast when Lui was introduced to Sorgun the visitor was taken aback at once with an undeniable shock.  Quickly masking it he extended his felicitations and offered a polite conversation.  At the first opportunity, however, he had discreetly pulled Lord Wutenzar aside and whispered something grievous into his ear, throwing a furtive glance over the host's shoulder at Sorgun Dufo, who was engaged in intense conversation with another guest.

"Are you absolutely certain of this?’ the Lord had demanded crossly in a whisper.

"Absolutely, undeniably so.", Lui responded, smiling sardonically.  "In all the years you have known me, have I ever led you astray, my Lord?"


02- LUI DUREK


Lui looked directly into Lord Wutenzar’s eyes, his face dark, his jaw set firm.  "Now you must act on this at once, your Lordship.  The culprit must be apprehended and brought to justice.  Imagine his gall, taking advantage of your kind, generous nature like that!"  Then, noting Lord Wutenzar Thuxur Marrog Zhon 's frown, Lui scrambled to eradicate the damage, "Please forgive my presumption, my Lord.  I did not mean to, it was not my intention to...” he said contritely then, oddly enough, became tongue-tied.  In his exasperation in searching for the appropriate word his face contorted, appearing so absurd, so comical that Lord Wutenzar had been forced to constrain his amused laughter.

His stern expression thus erased, Lord Wutenzar nodded with a dismissive gesture, as if to say, don’t worry, no offense is taken.  I know you meant well.  You were overzealous in your conscientious efforts, as usual.  Meanwhile the Lord's keen senses had alerted him to how, even at this distance, the exchange had been ardently, though discreetly, observed by Sorgun and he'd noted Sorgun's subsequent fleeting, stiff grin.

 

"You don't agree?” the family friend Hekin had asked just then loudly, shaking his head in astonishment, obviously misinterpreting Sorgun's momentary distraction.  Then, after looking about the room, Hekin affixed his eyes on Sorgun and abashedly apologized, his eyebrows raised in serious inquiry.

Subsequently to all seeming appearances Sorgun, with typical elegance, had immediately smoothed over the matter and proceeded to elaborate his opinion on the controversy under discussion.  As he reached out his hand to have his wine cup filled, however, he had again casually tilted his head and glanced sideways at Lord Wutenzar Thuxur Marrog Zhon.  For a brief, awkward moment their eyes met.

Acting as if nothing had happened, the Lord smiled stiffly and looked away, feigning being lost in abstract thought.  Admittedly, Lui was renowned for his sharp memory, meticulous handling of details, keen observation skills and for his deductive reasoning.  That is what had made him a good censor.  Hmm, Lord Lord Wutenzar remained indecisive, nonetheless.  What perturbed him the most was that, up until that time, he had taken pride in his ability to accurately discern a man's character.  Never had he erred on this point; never had he been so completely duped.  Yet the presented facts…” No; regardless of all the indisputable, incriminating evidence, this case warrants further investigation,” he turned his stone gaze to a crow perched on a tree outside.

Lending a casual ear to Lui's continued urgings, Lord Wutenzar heaved a dejected sigh; then slowly rising from his seat, he motioned Lui to follow him to his study.  The ensuing conversation behind these closed doors had left Lord Wutenzar Thuxur Marrog Zhon, after a time, pale and highly agitated.

 Peeking in, Asger had observed in astonishment the color gradually draining   from his father's grim face and how, after pacing to and for with hands clasped behind his back, his father had suddenly halted and slumped, listless and resigned, into his plush chair.

 Lui, meanwhile, looking every inch, a beast on the prowl, had turned his face away in Asger's direction, hiding his feral grin of satisfaction.

Just then Asger's attention was drawn back to his father; for at that same instant Lord Wutenzar's gaze, riveted onto the painting on the far wall, became suffused with immeasurable fury.  Asger knew the scene well: a harmonious family gathering and banquet on the edge of the river Yawjun.  His teacher Sorgun had given him that picture not too long ago.  His curiosity now piqued, Asger strained his ears still more, but all he could catch was a reference to Sorgun, to a mockery and something about a crime of, ’adultery’, a vague word, the meaning of which he had not yet fully comprehended.  Added to his concern was his father's changed attitude, his reserved, cold indifference to Sorgun Dufo from then on (that time onward).  But this was something he could not openly inquire about, as it was, even the merest mention of the word “adultery” had instigated raised eyebrows, disapproving looks and frowns from his old nanny, mother and maiden aunt.

The mystery had eventually been resolved when one moonlit night, because sleep had averted Asger, feeling particularly restless, he had slunk out of his bed and after divesting his bed clothes, quietly put on some outer garments. Careful not to wake up any of the servants he’d then went outside and begun aimlessly strolling in the vast gardens. Veering this way and that, he had finally halted his ambling to gaze distractedly at the moon's rippling silver rays charting a course over the emerald surface of the man-made pond, as a lugubrious symphony of insects serenaded his ears. 

Soon after he had tired of this distraction and, with his hot blood craving adventure, bypassed the Jadatek pavilion. Veering behind a hill, he had delved into the forbidden sector of thick grove of ancient pines whose branches blotted out the starlit night entirely.

 Groping his way across this canopy of darkness he'd skirted another pond, crossed the stone bridge and headed straight for the peach groves, drawn by the exquisite scent wafting from the blossoms.  Advancing at a more leisurely pace, he'd enjoyed the light breeze fanning his hair and the soft pink blossoms tenderly caressing his face until his eye suddenly caught a dim light streaming from the far side.

Craning   his neck and inclining   his head, he'd pinpointed the location, his father's old studio, abandoned and hardly ever used since the new one had been built. 

Who or what could it be there at this ungodly hour?  Asger had hoped it would be a ghost or robber, a promise of a thrill to rejuvenate this monotonous night.  However, no thief could breach the heavy security.  Shaking his head dejectedly he'd told himself, in all probability and in view of the recently implemented restrictions on the servant's favorite pastime, gambling, it could be but only one thing. Yes, decidedly, some of the servants must have chosen this isolated spot for their illicit activities.  Asger had never understood their fascination over such a benign, innocuous game.

 Is it worth investigating? Should I bother or not? He’d lingered at the spot indecisively for a moment or two as he drew a circle on the ground with his right foot.  Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained.  Who knows, it may well prove interesting. He simply shrugged, then sauntered towards the light.

When he'd gotten within hearing range of the building his ears were suddenly burned by his father's stern, icy tone as Lord Wutenzar confronted the tutor Sorgun Dufo.  Without thinking twice, Asger, in fear, ducked for cover. But this was too good to miss.  Steadying his heart, wildly thumping with curiosity and excitement, he'd then stealthily approached the open window to eavesdrop.

"I'm greatly indebted to you, my Lord, for the kindness you've shown both me and my son Kundrick.” Sorgun finally said after a prolonged silence.

"Are you mocking me?"  Lord Wutenzar Thuxur Marrog Zhon took a step forward, glowering, barely able to contain his rage.

Asger had never seen his father this angry.  Inwardly he quaked out of concern for his tutor Sorgun.

"Please, my Lord."  Sorgun, mustering self-restraint, indicated a seat for the Lord, then, with permission, he sat down across from him. Sorgun cleared his throat then in a somber and most sincere tone he promptly resumed his say, "You have every right, my Lord, to despise me for what you perceive to be my deception, my concealing the truth, but please believe me, it was done with the best of intentions."

Sorgun disregarded Lord Wutenzar's disdainful grunt, "I did not wish to involve yourself or your family in what would most certainly be a messy, lengthy litigation, and I certainly could not make you an accessory to my so-called crime.  That has been the chief reason why I have withheld my unfortunate past from you as long as I did.  But this grievous, totally erroneous account given by Lui Durek...”  Sorgun held out his hand to stay the Lord's angry rebuke, "Please, I wish no disrespect to the gentleman himself, for in all probability he is relaying exactly the slander that has been circulated, and that has, no doubt also been confirmed by your investigators, as it being on the public record.”

Lord Wutenzar’s stone face did not waver (falter); his eyes filled with hurt, he morosely (dourly) looked away.


03-LORD WUTENZAR THUXUR MARROG ZHON


"You needn’t be concerned, my Lord, no one has breached your security," Sorgun rushed to reassure Lord Wutenzar, "it's only to be expected.  I would have acted the same had I been in your place.  This erroneous account of Lui Durek's has nevertheless obliged me to attempt to clarify the situation and, if nothing else, endeavor to set the record straight.”

“I owe your Lordship that much.  In absence of proof, however, I must beg your Lordship's indulgence until..."  He abruptly stopped short, seeing how, at this point, Lord Wutenzar Thuxur Marrog Zhon was fidgeting in his seat, clearly displeased with the scholar's evasions.

Stop wasting my time! Lord Zhon had nearly snapped, but being fair-minded and wanting to give Sorgun an equitable chance, he had instead sat back, constraining   his displeasure and fixing his stern gaze on Sorgun, he then indicated for the other to continue (resume his say).

Sorgun was a proud man and did not take too kindly to being held under such doubting scrutiny.  He considered taking his leave in a huff, why should he bear such humiliation; however, he hesitated, mindful of the Lord's past kindness. Inwardly he struggled hence, to curtail his fury and, to forgive this debasing hurt.   His Lordship at least deserves an explanation.  It is quite natural for him to be concerned, for hasn't he in the last while entrusted his most precious son's education to me, (an accused) a suspected criminal?

Lord Wutenzar, meanwhile, noting the tutor's indignation, his inner turmoil as he struggled with certain defiance, anger, indecisiveness and the whole range of other, unreadable emotions on his face, regretted his manner and, softening   his gaze, gave Sorgun an encouraging smile. 

"Please do go on, sir.  As you can see, you have my undivided attention."

Sorgun, after momentary consideration, nodded thoughtfully and began, "To the best of my ability I will spare any embellishment and confide in you the true account of my past circumstances and my reasons for taking this precarious, unenviable path.  After which I will, without the least resistance, surrender my fate to your good judgment." His resolute stare earned the Lord's approving nod.

So that was at the root of my teacher’s (Sorgun's) indecisiveness, Asger, now shamefaced, had at once realized.  And of course, this also accounts for his earlier reluctance and apprehension! And I thought it might be …. Hmmm.  All along he had been considering making this determination, as well as this request, of my father.

"I would have long ago surrendered to the authorities, come what may, my own fate being of no consequence,” Sorgun exhaled a deep, dejected breath and looked away thoughtfully, "but you see, my concern over my son's welfare had prohibited me from taking the path of least resistance."  His pain filled eyes reverted onto Lord Wutenzar.  "After the ultimate betrayal, whom could I trust?"  He shook his head dismally.



"Foolishly I'd expected, or rather hoped, that the matter in due course would resolve itself and the true facts be disclosed.  Now I see I've been gravely mistaken for, far from being cleared, I've been wrongly slandered and already convicted without even the benefit of a just trial."

What Asger next heard had filled his heart with inexplicable feelings and had awakened him to the otherwise unknown, harsh realities of life. 

He'd learned how Sorgun Dufo had come from a long line of aristocrats who ranked high in Royal favor and had been endowed with a sizable fiefdom.  After his grandfather's untimely end, Sorgun's father, Kerek Dufo, being the elder son, inherited the title of Squire and the full responsibilities of the position.

 As his only offspring Sorgun knew that much to his own regret, eventually that restrictive life would be his as well. As it were, being educated extensively and grilled and drilled daily, Sorgun had grown up to become a worthy sophist literati and able politician.

 On top of this, he had acquired a natural talent for the financial aspects of every kind of business on the estate.  But his true interests lay elsewhere. 

Determined as he was to have his fill of life before being restricted in obligatory duties, he had, despite the family's discouragement, devoted much of his free time to furthering his skill in the martial arts. 

Excelling in swordsmanship, he would, as soon as he was of consenting age, often disappear on lengthy excursions in search of hair-raising experiences and excitement.

 Gradually his father Kerek Dufo eased off on the punishments, seeing they were of little use as a deterrent, and had allowed Sorgun to have his way, for the time being at least.


05 KEREK DUFO


Sorgun had suspected this having been partially due to his paternal uncle Minakos' convincing arguments on his behalf and so had remained most grateful for his intervention for the longest while. 

Minakos had been the one who had shown the most understanding and who had discreetly encouraged Sorgun to pursue his interests.  The bitterness in Sorgun's voice as he told of his uncle rather perplexed Asger at the time, but the answer was not far off.

After Sorgun was married, much to his parent's disappointment, he had ensued (kept on) with his eccentricities and not even the mourning period required for his deceased mother had deterred him from this practice.

 Upon his sudden (abrupt) return from one such adventure one night, however, he had unfortunately caught his sanctimonious father Kerek Dufo and his wife, Lady Linnsar, in a loving embrace during their secret rendezvous in the back garden.




 In his rage Sorgun had drawn his sword to behead them both but, resisting, had only slightly wounded his father with the flat of the blade.  Turning away, deaf to the curses and threats heaped upon him by Kerek (his father) and the pitiful pleadings of his faithless wife Lady Linnsar, he'd stormed out of there.

 By Sorgun’s uttered admission, all feeling had died in him then, except for the need to safeguard his infant son Kundrick.  Heading straight for Kundrick's room he'd snatched the baby from its warm crib and dashed outside into the just then abrupt (precipitous) rainstorm, in his mad state of mind, quite oblivious to the pelting rain, never to return.

 Forsaking all family, even his great love of swordsmanship, he'd hurled his precious sword far into the currents of the Yawjun River and from then on had wandered aimlessly, much like a vagabond, over the back trails of the vast countryside.

Eventually his son's survival had necessitated his return to the literary field once more and, being exceptionally talented, he'd carved out a meager living by tutoring the children of minor gentry and rich merchants from time to time.  He'd never lingered too long in one place for fear of being found out.

Sorgun vehemently swore on his grandfather's tomb that he had not taken their lives that night.  Their demise had come to his attention much later.

 "In all likelihood,” Sorgun speculated with an icy grimace, "my repentant father, Esquire Kerek, in his shame had finished the job for me.  It was the incompetence and corruption of the authorities that later on led to this erroneous conclusion and, the issuing of warrants for my arrest."

"If you are truly innocent, sir, and I don't doubt that you are you should have nothing to fear.” Lord Wutenzar Thuxur Marrog Zhon said after a lengthy pause.  "I am sorry to hear that you have lost all faith in our judiciary process.  Regrettably, in many parts of the country, bad elements have taken root and infiltrated the process to undermine the probity of our courts, making mockery of our time-honored laws.  But, with persistence and an adequate outlay (dispensing) of funds, justice may still be had even there.”

His genuinely concerned gaze held Sorgun’s for a time then he added:

"Despite your success thus far in avoiding capture, you have still inadvertently injured the one thing you sought most to protect.  Don't you realize that, by your evasive actions, you have deprived your innocent son of his birthright and condemned him to a lifetime of hardship and misery?  I advise you therefore, for his sake if nothing else, to lay your trust once more in the judiciary system and surrender yourself to the authorities without further ado.  You may leave your son in my good care and relieve your mind of any undue anxiety.  I give you my solemn promise that I will do everything within my power, leave no stone unturned, to uncover the truth and extricate you from this wrongful indictment.  Wouldn't that be preferable to always being on the run, apprehensively looking over your shoulder, faced with an uncertain future?"

 Then, rising, he affectionately tapped Sorgun's shoulder and said, "Think this over carefully.  You need not reply just yet, but I expect an answer no later than tomorrow’s sunset."

Up until that time Asger had been intimidated by his father's stern persona, seeing him as an unbending, highly disciplined individual, strict in his adherence to convention, brilliant, articulate yet intolerant of weakness, a powerful being who put everyone at their unease and one whose presence always commanded respectful attention.  In short, he'd viewed his father more as a demigod than as a mortal man, a heavenly force he'd always striven to win the approval of. 

This unassuming, sincere manner, this compassionate side of his father had never been revealed to Asger for the sake of discipline, and so his ready championship of the unfortunate scholar had misted up Asger's eyes, and he'd found it hard to resist the urge to rush in and embrace him.

As it was, his father would have never approved of such an open display of affection and would have scolded him for eavesdropping on top of it.  Meanwhile Asger had noted how Sorgun had also been visibly touched by the concern and generosity (kindness) Lord Wutenzar had shown him.

 

After pondering briefly, Sorgun, with lowered head, nodded his reply, his voice choked with emotion, "There is no need to wait.  I am, and always will be, most grateful (and beholden) to your Lordship for this consideration."

 He had then risen from his seat, straightened out his garments, and with all due humility, citing Lord Wutenzar Thuxur Marrog Zhon as his benefactor, had respectfully bowed low to express his gratitude.

 He was about to fall to his knees when Asger's father rushed to stop him and helped him rise.  Saying that such acts were uncalled-for, he'd proposed they both go outside for a stroll to get a bit of fresh air.

Frightened lest he be found out, Asger had shrunk into the shadows on all fours and then taken to his heels.  Stealthily beating a hasty retreat, he'd made his way back to his own room without incident.

 In his excitement he'd not bothered to change and had quickly climbed under the covers but, try as he might, sleep averted him.  He stayed up the rest of the night, relieving in his mind all that had transpired, all that he'd done, heard and seen.

Just before dawn he'd eventually drifted into an exhausted sleep with a contented smile on his lips.  He was confident that his father, with his resourcefulness, would soon deliver Sorgun, now his favorite, most respected tutor, from these terrible difficulties.

 

(END OF SECTION 10)