11- LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - EVIL PERSONIFIED - SECTION 17

After so many hours of tending the Dark Eunuch’s extensive wounds (lesions), Royal surgeon Mosek stepped back and wiped the sweat off his forehead. Egil Viggoaries was then offered two or three excellent pain-numbing concoctions but despite the throbbing pain in his arm, he refused to ingest any potion and perfunctorily dismissed the Surgeon.

 

01- ROYAL SURGEON MOSEK

The Dark Eunuch thence left alone in the room, he stayed seated there for a while longer evaluating (assessing) his two provocative future machinations; finally, his thoughts reverting to Stuart Chutek, his mind pithily deliberated on the astute (shrewd) course of assertion (command, charge, contention):

His men had already been positioned in the very Inn Chutek was staying, awaiting his orders to apprehend him; before the Stewart Chutek crossed to the Chukset Province, to seek out Tonzeye Yevgun.  In a short while, when the moment was apt, Chutek would be lawfully indicted and convicted for the impending (imminent) murder of Worren Youkup based on that sheer evidence alone. Furthermore, with the established motive, Chutek could easily be portrayed as an ambitious servant who had deliberately and unconscionably seduced and coerced his senile, old master into declaring him as the sole beneficiary; then, before Worren had a change of heart, Chutek cold-heartedly had arranged to have him (the Royal Tutor) killed during Chutek’s absence from Channing, on a supposed errand no less.  Portrayed (depicted) as an insidious, scheming, malicious servant, Chutek could then be subjected the extreme penalty of the law; albeit he survived the preliminary inquisition, he could still be made to suffer the brutal indignities, before his slowest, most tortuous end.

But where was the challenge in that? Egil Viggoaries scoffed and shifted in his seat. Even without all that, any amount of incriminating evidence could easily have been amassed, since the old Tutor had shown such extreme favoritism to the strikingly handsome Chutek, incurring jealous animosities from all the other servants, one in particular…The one named, Lorenzo.

Egil Viggoaries turned his thoughts instead, to Enqui Rimeng's flask which presented far more intriguing possibilities. This flagon (evidential instrument of death) could be utilized to net the bigger prize, in addition to the accursed Herleif! But then, why would he cook the golden goose, or would it be more prudent to call her a pheasant; besides which, she may soon be infinitely more valuable as the Dowager Mother of the future Sovereign.

Egil Viggoaries sporting a wry grin, rose from his chair and walked to the window; as he absently stared out, suddenly, unexpectedly, he was reminded of Samnuk.

Dark Eunuch Egil, grimaced thinking of the time he had tricked the mixed gender rock sprit entity Samnuk, who had just escaped being imprisoned in that protective water crystal amulet which Dwengzur had always worn around his neck. Samnuk had impersonated his master Dwengzur, but Egil quickly wizened to this deception, had instead duped Samnuk into revealing one of his secrets. This was an especially useful tool (device, information), indeed, gaining the ability to shapeshift and assume any form or person; unfortunately, his (Egil) being a mere mortal, if he utilized this spell, there would be a grave consequence to him. Egil had been seriously warned about this, by non other than Dwengzur, before his eventual disappearance with then captive, mischief-maker, Samnuk.

02 SAMNUK 1B

“Oh well,” Egil Viggoaries shrugged; knowing there would be an apt future time, when the advantages would far outweigh the vile disadvantage, for its use.

Dark Eunuch’s thoughts once more reverting to Sejon and then to Magnian, he now indulged his mind in that future fantasy, where which Zakhertan Yozdek and Sejon would be long dead and, he would be the Regent Guardian to Magnian. A necessary short step to being the omnipotent emperor. Emperor Egil… Egil the Merciless! He did like the sound of that! The Dark Eunuch threw his head back and gave a hearty guffaw. A brief time later, sinister grin gone, Egil abruptly turned about face and went out the room; dismissing the respectful bows of his guards at the door, he walked briskly down the hall. Of course, his personal security had at once sheathed their swords and fell into step behind him. The Dark Eunuch walked quickly with long strides to keep his appointment, albeit a little late, with the Senior Grand Secretary Qarzten Caimund. Egil knew that the meeting was of a serious official matter, though it had rapidly been dwarfed in importance by these more recent developments.  

“When I see him,” Egil Viggoaries mused with wry smile on his lips, “I must at least make a point of thanking Qarzten Caimund for his recommendation of me to this case. The man has unwittingly done me a great service!” He threw his head back and laughed once more as he continued to advance without so much as breaking stride.

   

                                                                        ~   

   

That evening, when Egil Viggoaries received the expected word that Royal Tutor Worren Youkup was at death’s door after having suffered a damaging heart-attack, he quickly set aside all other business to pay the customary courtesy call on Worren, hoping to catch him still among the living and to whisper to him his spiteful news. As it were, the Dark Eunuch’s ingrained rancour (grudge) for the sanctimonious Worren Youkup and the Prince Herleif had been everlasting because, Egil Viggoaries’s childhood years had been glumly marred as the study companion of Prince Herleif. Young Egil had undergone nefarious castigations and ignoble humiliations whenever the unruly, wily Herleif had broken the rules. At each instance, Worren Youkup (heartlessly) indifferently turning a blind eye and a deaf ear to the truth had compulsorily mated out harshest penalties on the unpopular Egil Viggoaries. Eventually young Egil had learned to fight back and once fended for himself in such a way as to make Worren’s and Prince Herleif's life, for a time being at least, an absolute Hell. Zakhertan Yozdek at the time was still waging his border wars and was frequently absent from Channing for extended periods; Herleif’s vindictiveness going unchecked hence, it was not long before Viggoaries was maligned and permanently replaced as the study companion, with a more malleable stooge. The ostracized Egil’s life from then on, had taken on a new, nightmarish turn.  

                                                                      … 

At present entering the private compound of the palace staff, Egil Viggoaries continued to make his way, in the same bold strides, towards the tutor's sleeping quarters. Coming to within an earshot of the old man's deathbed, he heard the attending physicians pontificating over Worren’s ailment and them arriving at the unanimous decision that he was at present beyond saving.

"We've done all that is humanly possible to stem the course of damage but alas, his sight and speech faculties (ability) are slightly (to some extent) impaired.” Kundo Rotek said with a tired, mournful resignation. Everyone knew he was in fact quite fond of the Royal Tutor.

“At least you’d in time mercifully administered the dose to ease his terrible pain, but I dare say, bit more excessively." His colleague (assistant) pensively griped.  

 "There is nothing further to be done." Three of the senior Royal Physicians, farcically, exasperatedly shaking their heads unanimously at this point sounded their firm estimation.   

"May Gods be merciful!" A young Royal Physician just then acerbically added, eyeing Egil Viggoaries’s entrance into the room.   

"And may his passing into the spirit world, be without fret." Another one called Polnar, hastily rushed in to say, same time gave his co-worker an apprehensively admonishing look that seemed to say: “Xamis Urmond you fool, you will pay dearly for this later! You have enjoyed the favor of His Highness Zakhertan Yozdek and basked in the rarely bestowed honors and privileges your youthful brilliance has earned you up till now, but nothing lasts forever, and no one is indispensable!” Polnar had rushed forward meanwhile, along with the others, to respectfully greet Egil Viggoaries.   

Polnar’s subsequent profuse apologies and amiable words, on behalf of his headstrong friend Xamis, had unfortunately was ignored (fell on deft ears), for Egil Viggoaries had already made up his mind to take care of this impertinent and upstart Royal Physician, permanently (for good).

03- EGIL VIGGORIES 1- JP

Outwardly, however, Egil seemed to be appeased; showing a particular concern for the Royal Tutor's increasingly deteriorating condition, he suggested (ordered) he be allowed a few solitary moments with his old teacher to convey his farewells.  

The Chief Royal Physician, Kundo Rotek, readily assenting, cleared the room at once of all persons; then he too, quickly exited the room. Then again, all were extremely glad of the opportunity to spread as much distance as possible between them and the Black Eunuch, for none wished to inadvertently offend him and risk his baneful (cursed) wrath.   

Egil Viggoaries nodded in satisfaction as he approached the old Tutor as, without interference, he was now able to assess for himself the specific symptoms of the poison. Though all had read his occasional dissertations about the progress of human diseases and thus would never question his motives, no one was truly aware of the full extent of Egil’s vast knowledge of medicine and toxicology, gathered over the course of many years of experiment and study.  Not only had Egil Viggoaries poured over and devoured the Royal Library's vast storehouse of medical texts (one of the subjects along with alchemy, astronomy, botany and military strategy that had been spared from the incineration) but he had for the past several years also conducted experiments on his own into the causes, cures and progress of a countless number of diseases that plagued mankind with terminal suffering.  As Minister of Internal Security, he was able to procure an unending supply of subjects from among the ranks of the condemned prisoners with which he strove to resolve the dilemmas posed by those elusive maladies that had eluded even the wisest of contemporary medical minds. Not that Egil Viggoaries was striving to find cures for these illnesses; rather, his fascination lay in inducing sickness into previously healthy individuals and then painstakingly recording in meticulous detail the variations of the disease's progress until the final deterioration of their condition.   

The suffering, the torment inflicted on these ill-fated victims gave him that perverse pleasure and bizarre sense of temporary satiation from his bottomless, sadistic curiosity. Egil Viggoaries’s compiled works meanwhile had proven to be a controversial yet invaluable contribution to the medical field, though the methods by which the information had been gathered drew to date, twenty or thirty muted criticisms from certain Court Officials as well as, secret censure by two of his medical peers. Regardless of these personal qualms, they nevertheless jostled each other in their rush to obtain, at great expense, his latest findings when they were, infrequently printed up for publication. For every now and then Egil Viggoaries would succumb to the human failing (an urge) to boast, to gain recognition for his unconscionable yet brilliant methods and theories. These published findings however had only ceded the surface layers of his knowledge of the tools of death. He had also, for self-preservation, secretly experimented, and duly become an expert in identifying the culprit poisons, in specifically, five unresolved murder cases.     

Looking at the old Royal Tutor, Egil Viggoaries presently noted with a bemused smile the obvious signs and the side-effects of the drug Worren Youkup had unwittingly ingested, which had escaped the learned eyes of those brilliant Royal Physicians. Haughty, Idiotic incompetents, the lot of them! Even that arrogant upstart had not caught on. Later, Egil Viggoaries was to learn that Xamis Urmond had indeed raised the possibility during his examination but had been roundly overridden by his more discreet peers. His apologist had even ventured as far as to advise Xamis, "Let the sleeping dogs lie."    

Dispassionately Egil Viggoaries studied the side effects of the potion that had, in its wake, left the Royal Tutor gradually (increasingly) more bereft of sight and speech.  That old boorish tyrant that had plagued his childhood, now nearing his end, was as vulnerable as a newborn babe, squirming in his silent pain. Yet there remained something in those sightless eyes, an urgent need in that contorted face to communicate something vital. Taking advantage of this chance, Egil Viggoaries ordered one of the waiting attendants at outside, to bring him a parchment and ink-laden brush. The attendant as he was leaving the room witnessed only of Egil Viggoaries placing the brush in the dying Royal Tutor's right hand and urging him to write.

No one bore witness to the Eunuch’s subsequent act of, leaning close to Worren’s ear and imparting to him in a whisper, while grinning with sheer malice, his exquisite plans for the darling Stewart Chutek. 

04- STEWART CHUTEK'S IMPENDING FATE

A brief time later Egil Viggoaries had emerged at outside declaring the result to be indecipherable scribbling that warranted thorough analysis later. The Eunuch’s back to them, Chief Royal Physician Kundo Rotek and the other Royal Physicians had all at once, frenziedly rushed (scrambled) back into the room, in time only to observe, Worren Youkup arch his back in pain and breath his last.

 

                                                                        ….   

 

 

(END OF SECTION 17)

 

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC- THE CAPITAL CHANNING - SECTION 9

 Nevetsecnuac, having decided to meet Zaur halfway then, more clearly proceeded to solicit (request) Zaur Stugr's help, "If it would not be too much of an imposition (trouble) Minister Stugr, perhaps you could entrust it to the proper authorities so that, in keeping with my promise to Yakkasar, it may be returned to the pit in question.  I would be most appreciative if you would inform me also of the further developments, especially ones leading to resolving this rather intriguing (fascinating) mystery."

Expressing moderate curiosity, Zaur Stugr graciously accepted the task of handling this trivial matter at his earliest convenience. 

01 ZAUR STUGR JP 12

"And perhaps there may be other historical artifacts that would be of importance, warranting excavation at the site." he smiled mischievously. Then as if in an afterthought, Zaur gravely added, "Of course this province is riddled with many such graves and pits of varying sizes, containing skeletons, corpses of indicted dissidents, cadaver of convicts and traitors, whom all of course, richly deserved their ill fate.”

“In any case best to be prudent, with this investigation and in enlisting help. Then there is the requirement for a permit, which I must attain, from the works department. But I may need more data…”   He abruptly looked up at Fradel.

After a seeming hesitancy and purposeful pause, proclaiming that he needed this in case the authorities questioned him on it, Zaur urged Fradel Rurik Korvald to jog his memory about the specifics of the topography or any other identifying landmarks in the vicinity of the pass which may assist in quicker resolve or at least, an educated guess as to its location.

Fradel agreed to this, with a lowered head, pretended to be lost in deep thought for a time, presumably jogging his memory.

 Zaur (with a puckered brow) grimacing, studied Fradel for a moment; then with an affable tone, introduced a suggestion. "This may help; from the details you've offered already, I've deduced that it could be Kneco, Cyprecox, or Yeruz Pass."

Nevetsecnuac pretending to have just then recollected some pertinent facts, cried out, " Yes, that's it, the very one. I remember now.  It was the Cyprecox Pass that Yakkasar was headed for.  Though he did refer to Kneco Pass, it was at a different time and in an entirely unrelated context."

"Now you're quite certain about this?" Zaur studied Fradel with concealed anxiety.

"Quite certain," Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) reaffirmed then, pretending that he'd remembered more of what Yakkasar had told him, readily volunteered (furnished) more specifics (details) regarding the location, much to Zaur's satisfaction.

"Well, this night's conversation has been quite dynamic and rather fruitful (productive).  Thank you for presenting me with this most intriguing opportunity; I'll do all that I can to resolve this mystery for you." Zaur Stugr promised earnestly, quickly dismissing Fradel’s uttered, profuse gratitude.

Smiling affably, he then begged Fradel's indulgence and patience, cautioning the scholar not to get his hopes up too high, for the truth once uncovered, might not be as enriching or colorful as supposed (or imagined).

Fradel Rurik Korvald (Nevetsecnuac) politely yawned to express his fatigue, and then quickly proposed (suggested) that they should retire for the night.

Finding this most agreeable, Zaur signaled for the servant in attendance, to have the repast be cleared soon as they left; after which he solicitously (ushered) escorted Fradel to his sleeping quarters, before retiring himself to his own suite.

                                                                                               ~

Short time later, when all were tucked and happily sleeping under their warm quilts, Zaur Stugr quietly rose from his bed and going over, retrieved a small flagon (flask) he kept in the second drawer of the night table. Removing the seal, he gulped (ingested), enough of the special tonic, which quickly (in a short span) deleted the ill effects of excessive drinking and restored one’s full faculties.  Zaur next, taking special care not to wake any of his personal servants, washed his face, swiftly changed his clothes and quietly snuck outside.

02- ZAUR STUGR

Though Nevetsecnuac's speculation had come exceedingly close to the truth, he could not have imagined the depth of gravity that this key had held for Zaur Stugr.

Zaur, very much sobered now by his pumping adrenaline, held out a small oil lamp before him to illuminate the way, as he hastily proceeded with determined steps through a maze of hallways and garden paths.  Eventually he arrived at the old study on the far side of the East wing.

The wing had been sealed off ever since Kokone Iver, the previous owner's beloved third concubine committed suicide after being sexually assaulted (violated, raped) by one of, Rujune Iver’s esteemed house guests.  The strange gruesome apparition who had persistently haunted (appeared in) the hallways after her tragic demise, was attributed to her restless, unavenged spirit.

The perpetrator guest rapist, called Lord Nirekel Konuer, had at the time been far too powerful and too well connected to the higher officials; and so, despite Rujune Iver's efforts to bring him to justice, he had escaped punishment.

The subsequent grave rift that had existed as consequence, between Rujune Iver and Lord Nirekel Konuer, had outlasted the culprit Nirekel’s eventual horrific demise from a mysterious, sudden ailment.

 The hostility between the Konuer and Iver Clans had in due course, fostered some violent repercussions; especially since, the rumors concerning Rujune’s visits to a famous shaman in the workers' quarters, and this having something to do with Lord Nirekel’s sudden, macabre death, had persisted for many a year. And despite the absence of any solid evidence, the incidences of savage retributions, the bloodshed continued (to rock the Capital) for quite some length of time to eventually die down. 

But not before Rujune Iver, having been persecuted unmercifully by Lord Nirekel Konuer's ardent cliques, had eventually lost the favor he had at court and, having been subsequently charged with treason, suffered the extreme death penalty.  Unfortunately, this had meant the extinction of his entire clan, including his wife and concubines as well as, all the family's property (estate) being confiscated by the state.  Yet, because of the purported haunting of the East wing, this otherwise exceptional mansion in the heart of the Capital had remained unsold and untenanted (vacant).

Zaur was only a minor official but one with promising future at that time and had just been transferred to a more lucrative posting in the Capital.  Not being superstitious in the least and assured that no senior official wanted the property, he was quick to seize this opportunity and procure Rujune Iver’s magnificent mansion for an affordable price.  Seeing that it was to his advantage to continue, the purported belief in the haunting Zaur gave outward credence to the stories and sealed off the East wing, declaring it off limits to everyone and all his staff.

03-GHOST Kokone Iver  IN THE EAST WING

Then covertly engaging trusted workmen, he had a secret tunnel constructed directly into the unused wing from a niche in the outer wall.  Zaur Stugr’s planning and vigilance had paid off and, unknown to his family and staff, he henceforth had conducted all clandestine matters on these premises.

For over five years now, with none the wiser to the comings and goings, he had been able to establish a vast underground web of alliance and intrigue that had escaped all detection.  This was no small feat for the Sovereign possessed an elite and very effective Secret Police (as well as, the ruthless Black Band Guard Regiment) in addition to the rival spy networks established by Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren and Minister of Internal Security Egil Viggoaries (also affiliated with The Black Molochs).

Halting before a tall, green door Minister Zaur Stugr thumbed the keys at his belt and, finding the right one, inhaled deeply to steady him-self before he turned it in the lock.  Lifting the latch, he opened the door softly.  Only the rush of air leaving the room disturbed the quiet of the night.  Stepping inside, his eyes briefly perused the rare antiquities that adorned the shelves, the countless valuable scrolls that were housed in specially constructed wall units that took up two walls all on their own, the plush sofa off in the corner and the desk with its neat pile of documents awaiting his decisions.  Things were exactly as he had left them.  Reassured, he turned and bolted the door behind him. He walked over the desk and opening the top drawer took out the certain (booby trapped) letter his agent Kaelan had delivered to him a week before Fradel Rurik Korvald’s arrival.

He’d been so burdened (engaged) playing host to illustrious scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald in addition to his other Ministerial duties that he had deferred this matter till later time. In truth he was still undecided about what to do about the letter (whom his agent had retrieved from the dead body of the doomed courier Disaidun Agripe otherwise known as Miss Jepipi), which had been the source of Lord Shouzi Yozdek’s blackmail for about two years by The Black Molochs.

Zaur could not help smiling, knowing how infuriated Egil Viggoaries must have been, when word reached him that the letter had been lost to him.  How many must have suffered consequently.

“Unfortunately, the plan had not gone as well as he’d anticipated; for Zunrogo Tugo was still alive and well… Hmm, the cur must have found out about the switch and kept it quiet. “

“Oh well you can’t win them all.”  Zaur shrugged.

“As for the letter…” Zaur shook his head. “It can wait.”  Unfortunately, at present he was too pressed for time to deal with this, when other more pressing matters (issues) and tasks demanded his attention first; and so, he quickly put it back in the top drawer and closed it.

Advancing with deliberate strides, he veered around the long, ornate desk until he reached a specific wall unit on the far wall.

 Holding up the oil lamp, he pulled out one specific scroll and placed it on the desk.  Then, putting his hand into the slot from which he had retrieved the document, he applied a firm pressure with his index finger to a groove in the lower left corner of the exposed wall.  Immediately the entire wall slid noiselessly aside to expose a hidden room behind.

Air tinged with musk rushed out at once to assail his nostrils as pitch darkness greeted his eyes.  Crinkling up his nose, Zaur shook his head.  He had not been in this room for some time and due to obvious neglect, everything was shrouded in an inch deep snow of dust that now whirled about, stirred by the air from the outer study.

“First thing tomorrow I must have Zyerne clean this place up.  This disorder is inexcusable.”

For now, the space was in immediate need of ventilation.  He looked around in the lamplight at the mass of volumes packed up all the walls until he spied on one small window high up next to the ceiling, hidden from the outside by a set of elaborate eaves.

 Striding over, he positioned a sturdy chair beneath the aperture and pried the shutter open just a crack, just enough to let in the fresh air he needed to relieve his lungs of this (ever-present) invasive constriction.  He winced as he reflected how this hidden room had been designed by the long dead original architect more like a vault of an elaborate tomb than a study.  Its purpose had been obvious but, incredibly, Rujune Iver’s demise had come too fast for him to have made use of its contents to his own advantage.  Fortunately for Zaur, these carefully catalogued documents, containing amassed evidence against the most prominent (noble, patrician) aristocratic families and the vast reserve of valuables and cash secreted in this room, had escaped detection by the court's investigators when the property had been confiscated (impounded) by the state.  With his analytical mind, keen sense, and deductive reasoning, Zaur Stugr had been the only one to, shortly after acquiring the property; discover this invaluable chamber's existence.

Stepping down, he walked back to the entrance.  From there he took the familiar measured paces, first straight ahead, then to the left, and then to the right then again left.

About five years ago, he had further discovered several vaults, each laden with cache (stockpiles, hoards) of gold, silver, and jewels, beneath the ingeniously designed, geometric marble- flooring. 

Depending on the combination of serious of consecutive (successive) steps and the pressure put on by one’s own weight, the specific squire floor tile would rise and then move aside to reveal an opening with the descending stairs leading to that specific vault’s contents. 

Right now, however, he was only after one of his own constructions.

Squatting, he placed the lamp off to one side, loosened the specific floor tile with his bare hands, lifted it and dug out a slightly tarnished metal box from its hiding place.  Meticulously, he brushed the dust from it then, with trembling hands, positioned his newly acquired bejeweled key over the keyhole on the box's side.

Suddenly his heart was seized with apprehension.  “What if this key's construction was merely a bizarre coincidence?  What if it did not match this box at all?” 

In the past he had attempted everything he could think of to open this unyielding encasement but without the least bit of success.  The unusual metal, the design and construction of the box had resisted any attempt at tampering with it. 

He exhaled, “Well, there's only one way to find out.”

With certain determination he placed the key into the hole, and, to his great elation, it turned, moving long unused tumblers inside the locking mechanism.  His heart pounded wildly.  At long last it was now within his means to uncover the secret long buried within! 

But then he hesitated, and his expression gradually hardened to mirror his troubled thoughts.

“What if now, after all this time…,” dejectedly he shook his head. 

“Anyhow, what good would it do?”  In his mind's eye he could see the accusing finger stubbornly pointed at him and at the same time a strong sense of foreboding gripped his heart.

“No!  Right or wrong, I could not have confided in Sanzo.  Not after the disclaimer.”

Eventually he picked up the lamp and, rising to his feet once more with the box in his other hand, walked over and sat down (sunk his body) on the plush sofa by the desk.  Absently he stared at the box for some time, affectionately caressing it, letting his fingers trace out the curved indentations which mimicked exactly the design of the key.  He noted how, in one corner they were scaled exactly to the size of the key. “Odd,” he mused, “it’s as if there's a purpose to it.”

 Struck by a sudden intuition, he took the key from the lock and placed it sideways on against the corner, noting how it fit snugly into the carved design.  Inside the box more tumblers moved.

“So, there was a disarming mechanism as well.”  Zaur Stugr was glad he had not rushed to open the obvious booby-trapped box.

A sad, aggrieved (wounded, pained, hurt) expression just then took hold of his features.

“It’s been so long, so very long!”

(END OF SECTION 9)