LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC – THE CAPITAL CHANNING – SECTION 12

 

Minister Zaur Stugr just then was reminded of the recent disturbing developments in Chukset Province, particularly the local governor’s role (part) in it, all of which had been painstakingly recounted in Tonzeye Yevgun's recent report.

 Zaur’s brows knotted, and anger smoldered in his chest as he reflected how, despite all of his efforts, the corruption had been so rampant (prevalent), so great were the sufferings of the citizens that all of his prior efforts had barely made a dent in suppressing (throttling) their tyrannical schemes.

01 ZAUR STUGR JP 12b

 

Another dire concern also gnawed at his viscera (innards), for despite all his forces being kept on highest vigilance (alert), despite all the avenues the Kozurs had explored, Zaur had remained completely in the dark about Prince Nevetsecnuac’s current whereabouts.

Zaur shook his head to dispel all disquieting (troubling) thoughts, reminding himself that he must keep up hope, as he had still not received any word from the men sent in pursuit of the assassin Duan and his cohort, Heng Erling.

 

“What's that?” Zaur Stugr was instantly jolted from his reverie.  His acute hearing had picked up a barely discernible, fleeting creak outside of the room.  Tensing, he sat upright and listened intently. 

“There it is again.”  His keen ears had detected another, even more slight sound. “Could it be an intruder?” 

A moment later, the room locked securely behind him, he advanced stealthily down the long corridor of the East Wing towards the source of the noise.  Hiding in the shadows, he waited. 

When the soft, silent footfalls drew near, he stood ready to pounce in a flash, with his fist poised to deliver a most deadly blow, a single chop, to right under the intruder's ribcage, where in an instant it would block (intercept) the life’s blood to the heart.

"What in blazes are you doing here?" Zaur Stugr growled, halting his attack in mid-stroke. "You should know better than to sneak around here at night."  Shaking his finger at his strapping, young assistant, Zyerne, he admonished him, "I could have killed you."  Zaur Stugr angrily shook his head.

02- ZYERNE STEWOR

 

Zyerne Stewor was a broad-shouldered, tall, and stalwart (athletic) youth of about nineteen years in age, with fiery red-blond hair, clean shaven, one who had most striking handsome facial features, with keen blue eyes that never missed anything; furthermore, he had a brilliant mind and was courageous and loyal. 

He was also one of the most recent new recruits that had succeeded in a short span to become a valuable affiliate of Kozurs; nevertheless posturing (posing) as Zaur’s personal steward (butler, superintendent) in Zaur’s large household, he oversaw (managed) many of the most crucial, covert daily tasks.

 

“You’re always so dramatic; but then that is one of your most endearing qualities.” Zyerne instead, simply pouted (furrowed his forehead) and meekly lowered his head. He was rather fond of his Chief being always well treated, here (at Zaur’s residence) and in the organization, so fairly and considerately by him.

"I woke up suddenly, sir, and realized you were absent." the aide Zyerne ejected in a concerned voice.  "I hurried on here, thinking that you might perhaps be in need of my services."

"Your foolhardy conscientiousness is nevertheless commendable", Zaur smiled, "but in this instance I have no need of your assistance.”

“Tomorrow, however, I will be sending you on an important errand so you may as well return to your room and get what rest you can." Having said this, turning on his heels, Zaur Stugr quickly headed back in the opposite direction from his trusted aide, Zyerne Stewor.

 

                                                                                ~

 

 

Incredibly, both men had completely missed (remained unaware) the presence of a third figure well concealed in the shadows. 

Nevetsecnuac (Fradel) arriving later than Minister Zaur Stugr in this forbidden East Wing had suddenly spotted the scant light emanating from the small window high up (though mostly hidden behind a set of elaborate eaves,).  This was when Zuan had opened the window just a crack.

 As the window had been way too small (to permit even an entry of a small child), Nevetsecnuac next had tried but failed to gain stealth entry into either of the secret rooms. He tried peeking in (stealing a look) but the solidly built roof because of its angle had entirely obscured (obscured, masked) the inside. Discovering the only other window to one of the well concealed rooms, he had tried to breach (crack open) that, but it too had been securely sealed, this time with brass bars embedded in the stone of the sill.

Nevetsecnuac was considering his other options when in that instance, the interesting encounter between Zaur and Zyerne had transpired. He had waited for them to leave then carrying serious misgivings in his heart about his host, Nevetsecnuac too, had reluctantly retired, unseen, and unheard, to his room.

                                                                                                                                                               

                                                                                    ~

 

Following night, long after everyone had succumbed to slumber (sleep, forty winks); Minister Zaur Stugr had again stealthily snuck (sneaked) back into the East Wing.  He quickly recovered the mysterious box from its hiding place and, once more seated in the plush armchair in that secret library, reached into his inner pocket and retrieved the key.  Determined as he’d been to find out what the box had contained, once more his thoughts defiantly had drifted yet again, back to that specific time of his avowed disclaimer, the bane of his conscience.

Naturally, a fortnight after his father's departure, the box his father had entrusted with him had been discovered (detected) among his personal belongings by the tending servants and, at once, brought to Sanzo's attention. 

When Kundrick Dufo was confronted with the matter, he quickly snatched the box from the table and fearful of losing it, had held it tight to his chest and declared. 

"It’s my mother's!  It’s the only memento I have left of her."   And yes, at that moment, he’d told a blatant, shameless lie.

He had thought at the time that he’d been rather clever; especially since his guardian Sanzo had quietly scrutinized him (Kundrick) for a time then just dropped the matter.

“Perhaps he could not conceive of Sorgun, so careful in all he did, leaving anything of such great importance in the hands of a mere boy.” With hindsight, Zaur at present theorized. 

For in the end shrugging, Sanzo had turned his back and ordered in an icy tone, "Have the child made ready for bed." 

03- - SANZO TESCAT (2)

 

Sanzo Tezcat had never again raised the matter of the box, allowing Kundrick (young Zaur) to instead come around of his own accord and, if it was at all important, tell him.

The more Kundrick’s respect for his mentor had grown however, so had increased his fear and the shame for his damnable, detestable lie (he’d told his guardian). To make matters worse, Kundrick had learned bit too late, how much Sanzo prized integrity in a person, second only to loyalty and, how intolerant he’d always been of least deceit from those around him, his stern, harsh and judgmental stand on this matter not allowing for any mitigating circumstance. After having been an unwitting witness to the severity of the brutal repercussions suffered by one such offender, Kundrick had desisted confessing his lie (that he deemed was the result of his unfortunate lapse in good judgment back then), feeling the oppressive guilt, he’d suffered all this while, had been his just deserts (his punishment) enough.

Besides which, what he dreaded more than anything was losing the fragile trust, the rare privilege that Sanzo Tezcat had bestowed on him. 

Sanzo meanwhile had been far too preoccupied with other more pressing concerns, having deducted from the start that, whatever the nature of Sorgun's secret mission had been, Tojo Tugo's treachery had cost his dearest friend Sorgun his life. 

Highly incensed, despite the precariousness of their circumstance and the urgency of their flight from immediate danger, he had hankered (sought) instead, to extract the truth from Tojo and to mete-out apt vengeance on him on behalf of his friend Sorgun.  Delaying their departure hence, he had petitioned the Kozurs’ governing board requesting (demand) full cooperation and assistance in this matter.

Well before Sanzo and Brotherhood could take (or execute) any action however, Tojo had quite suddenly, mysteriously met his demise by a most gruesome accident, leaving behind him many unanswered questions.  Soon afterwards, all leads had dried up, as all of Tajo’s collaborators; his close associates who may have been able to shed some light on the matter, had all succumbed to lethal accidents. 

Result of discrete, thorough autopsies conducted on pertinent (stolen and dug up) corpses by the Kozurs’ top physician, had established the real causes and circumstances of each victim’s death. For one thing, the findings had revealed that they had all died (expired) well before their, obviously staged, fatal accidents.

The method of death in each case was the, long, poison-laced needle that had been inserted through the nostril into the brain, effecting (bringing about, causing) an instantaneous paralysis of the intended victims.

 This technique had been the preferred choice for murder, by only one well-known assassin, a henchman of Zakhertan Yozdek who, unfortunately, could not be touched.

The fact that Zunrogo Tugo and the reminder of Tojo's family had not been entirely terminated indicated that Zakhertan Yozdek considered Tojo’s service as being loyally rendered one and his demise was arranged, not as revenge but merely as a means of wiping the slate clean of all clues that could lead to the Usurper Emperor. After his initiation into Kozurs, as an affiliate (member), Zaur Stugr had finally been privy to these well documented findings. Strange though it may seem, despite this most likely outcome of his father's fate, still, over the course of many years Zaur had maintained the strong belief that, so long as he held onto the box (and the secret it contained) and, fact that his father’s corpse had not been found, he'd realize his wish of one day meeting his father or, at worse, of finding out what had actually befallen him. 

The subsequent years had spun rapidly by and, in the flurry of change that had swept the nation; the significance of Sorgun's box had rapidly diminished in Sanzo's eye just as, out of necessity and shame, it had acquired an ever-greater prominence in Kundrick’s heart.

 

                                                                      ~

 

“This cowardice is so unbecoming of you.”  Zaur inwardly chastised (reprimanded) himself. “Shame, how you’ve grown soft over the years.”

 

In fact, his hesitation, his inhibition had resulted from foreboding feelings of, the odd premonition, that he would be better off not knowing the contents of the box.

 

“All right; you've stalled long enough!”  Zaur Stugr, resolved to find out whatever the cost, he then inserted the key in that second keyhole and turned it.

The device (aperture) worked, and he heard a certain click.

 

Holding his breath in, he slowly lifted the lid and looked inside.  For a spell he was disappointed at the small collection of documents he saw, so frail they were laying at the bottom of the chest, hardly the sort of thing these many, weighty years of secrecy would have warranted.

Gingerly Zaur picked them up, one by one, and deposited them on the desk.  He studied the writing with sure interest until, realizing what they were all about, his face fell.  His brows knit and his expression grew grave as he nodded with grim understanding of the past consequences of their very existence and all the suffering it had caused.

04- THIRD PRINCE, WENZOR ALRIC THERRAN VALAMIR 2- jp

 

 It was a letter, several pages long, from the Third Prince, Wenzor Alric Therran Valamir, to Zakhertan Yozdek himself.  In it were the detailed plans for future uprisings both within and without Capital Province Holger, as-well-as, grateful thanks for the already rendered valuable services by then Field Marshal Zakhertan.  Prince Wenzor had additionally promised Zakhertan of future rewards after his continued, anticipated cooperation.

 Here was clear evidence of how Prince Wenzor Alric Therran Valamir had been completely duped by Zakhertan Yozdek.  Believing that Zakhertan sincerely had the prince’s own interest at heart, Prince Wenzor had, in all naivetés, provided the usurper with otherwise unavailable advantages. With this, Zakhertan had been able to move more swiftly, more effectively towards his goal of establishing himself as the future Emperor.

Added to this was the list which incriminated, some prominent, seemingly loyal Ministers, Lords, and courtiers as, co-conspirators in Prince Wenzor's schemes.

 

These very same men, Zaur Stugr (Kundrick) remembered, had later supported Zakhertan on his ascendency (to become present reigning Sovereign); their betrayal causing great shock and consternation among the Royalists camp.

 

“Yes, of course!”  

 

Zaur Stugr faintly remembered having seen Third Prince Wenzor Alric Therran Valamir once or twice at Sorgun's stately mansion.

 

 

(END OF SECTION 12) 

 

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE ASSASSINS - SECTION 16

It had been some time since Prince Nevetsecnuac and Alec leading their mounts, had passed through that harrowing subterranean tunnel, thankfully unscathed. Even now, Alec shuddered at the mere thought of it. He had expected it to be less arduous the second time around; in contrast, the capricious horrific incidents and the ensued wearing experience, one in particular, to date had left Alec terribly traumatized and infinitely (markedly) on edge.

  Maddeningly, the Prince had sailed through it all, not in the least bit perturbed by the onslaught of catastrophic events, unleashed by none other than Alec’s steed, and the consequential near-death experiences.

They were trekking outside now braving the elements of a different kind; unfortunately, the precarious shortcut route proved as treacherous for it was the depth of winter at these high altitudes. The ingenious contraptions of footwear with good traction, one of Asger’s clever inventions similar to that of Duan’s, had preserved them, man and mount, from more than once sinking into the depths of snow, or sliding over the terrifying precipices.

 As the wind moaned in their ears, the dense, whirling flakes flailing against their faces, their backs bent to the wind, with their horses' hooves sinking a foot deep through the powdered top layer of snow and into the tightly packed underlying layer, Nevetsecnuac and Alec rarely exchanging a word, incessantly pushed on.

Day after day enduring great hardships and untold dangers while persistently being tested by the cruel, trying forces of nature, they had hurried on to cover great distances and descend a good portion of these dicey (risky, hazardous) high altitudes.

"Perhaps we should have delayed our departure a few more months.” Alec grumbled in a barely audible voice, knowing full well that was not an option.

Nevetsecnuac shook his head and tacitly ejected, “This weather will persist until mid-summer." 

Forcing a smile, Alec nodded and continued to blindly advance into the wall of dancing flakes.  Trailing behind Nevetsecnuac, just as he had once done with Duan, despite his stamina and layers of fur, his body, his limbs yet again became benumbed with ceaseless exertion and cold; he slapped and rubbed his limbs for warmth and pursed his lips to restrain his groans and curses. In an attempt to divert his attention away from the persistent pain Alec focused instead on gauging the extent of Nevetsecnuac’ strength and stamina that spared the prince this torment; as it were, the discovery of few surprising elements earlier on, had persuaded Alec to amend (and postpone) his original intent.

After a grueling month Alec had lost all track of time, with days and nights and ceaseless drudgery of this trek intermingling with the terror of being stalked by ravenous wolves or sporadically attacked by voracious predatory beasts, all blending into one. Competent as he was, being outside of his element, he would have been wasted by the harsh environment or been devoured long ago by the beasts that had persistently, relentlessly dogged (hounded) them. To his chagrin time and again he had been constrained to concede, this certain reliance for his survival, on this very resourceful youth and his feats.

"There is a fierce storm brewing.” Nevetsecnuac stayed his footing just then, (halting,) and after his brief examination of the sky, grunted. “A little while further perhaps then we can stop.” Nevetsecnuac looked at Alec askance (sideways). 

Alec nodded without raising his head. In truth he felt ill at ease, “Was his discomfort that obvious?”

"There is an abandoned cave up ahead in which we can take shelter for the night." 

Under the cloak of white all marks had vanished, meeting Alec's skeptical gaze, Nevetsecnuac grimaced. "Don’t forget, I grew up on these mountains.  As it is we are taking the shortest route possible and should be in the safety of the foothills before long.  Otherwise, it would have taken us until next autumn, to traverse this distance."

Arrogant Alec was inwardly livid, interpreting Nevetsecnuac’s sensible words as disguised mockery, choosing to ignore the actual length of time it had previously taken him and Duan to reach the peaks.

 Latter (prince) might have grown up in these mountains, but it paled next to his grueling combat training   in Capital. Brute force, enduring stamina were only one aspect of the basic requirements; with a certain smugness therefore, Alec dourly pushed forward to advance swiftly. 

That night in the cave, shielded from the elements and warmed by the small fire, they had passed the time in relative comfort and safety.  After ingesting a barely palatable repast Alec, forgoing further exchange and sullenly giving his back to Nevetsecnuac, reclined his head in supposed sleep. Far from it, while his active mind perused through his most viable options; suddenly a fleeting, sardonic (wry) smile dawned on Alec’s lips and soon after he was lost to the world.

 The next morning, Alec seemed more affable towards Nevetsecnuac. What’s more, the remainder of the trek being mindful of Nevetsecnuac’s diffidence and anticipating Nevetsecnuac’s certain misgivings about him, Alec strove to ingratiate himself into Prince’s good graces with his most upright and frank demeanor.  By his consistent sincerity, faithfulness, humility, glib tongue, unfailing generosity, stamina and occasional heroics, by degrees (gradually) he succeeded in winning   Nevetsecnuac over.

 Now an affable travelling companion, on occasion when survival wasn’t paramount, Alec had even regaled Nevetsecnuac with accounts of heroics, adventure and tall tales of intrigue from the capital and far off parts of the Empire, fueling Nevetsecnuac’s imagination with personification and wondrous representations of the quintessence (embodiment of) world he scants knew from books.

 As they conversed to while away the lonely hours of travel, the topic of conversation skimmed over various areas of interest but decidedly rested each time on combat styles and armaments used in battle.

During one such exchange, Alec so as not to be too obvious, declaring his admiration of Lord Asger, tactfully strove to learn the finer points of Lord Asger’s fighting style; assuming that Asger had perfected his skill in martial arts, that of which made him nearly invincible, and had painstakingly passed it on to Nevetsecnuac.  Coveting this rare gift, the ambitious Alec implored Nevetsecnuac to instruct him on the finer points, whenever they took time out to rest.

"It is my life's desire, my duty to my father, to Lord Shonne Gulbrand and to you, my Prince, to be the best I can be, so that when the day comes, I may better assist our cause in battle.", he reasoned.  "For this, you must not begrudge me the benefit of your instruction, your Highness.  I've waited too long, all my life to be exact, for the day of vengeance and justice."  A note of indignation never failed to be infused into these genuine sounding requests.

Already missing his morning   exercises with Asger, Nevetsecnuac eventually acquiesced to Alec's wishes.

The addition of intense martial exercises wedged (jammed) between the grueling duration of trek, made the days and weeks pass more quickly, until finally, they, leaving behind the snowcapped mountains, reached foothills where temperatures were more moderate. 

They rode on extended periods with more ease now, oftentimes spurring their steeds into full gallop and sporadically (occasionally) racing for sport, while covering great distances.  And even though Alec’s horse repeatedly came second in every competition with the spirited (feisty) Fiery Comet, Alec’s amicability, his buoyancy and ardor never faltered.  

On these more temperate grounds, with the more frequent cloud-filled azure skies, warmer temperatures and thawing ground, it all attested to the approaching of spring.  Patches of green or brown appeared here and there on the slopes. Even a few tiny buds could be seen peeking out from the crevices, wedged between the icicles on the rock’s face.

Once, at a brief respite, bending to pick up a frail, purple flower, Alec gave a brief, admiring gaze, took a whiff of its raw fragrance then grounded it mercilessly to a soggy pulp in his hand.  His fingers and palms, steeped in the wild perfume, were stained purple with the flower's blood. With a distant, strange expression Alec hissed incomprehensibly.

Nevetsecnuac could only make out the words, "father", and "the villain must die.” 

With an uneasy feeling Nevetsecnuac’s eyes trailed Alec’s slow progression till he disappeared behind some bushes, presumably to relieve himself. On his return, with a somber countenance Alec set himself across from Nevetsecnuac.

Presently Alec appeared to have something grave on his mind, an urgent plight that was being forcefully constrained; after a dismissive shrug however, he abruptly rose and went to check in on his horse. Always respectful of another’s privacy, Nevetsecnuac chose to overlook these rare vacillating moods of Alec’s, deeming them to be just apprehension and understandable angst and disquiet stemming from impatience of reaching their set destination in time.

Subsequent days, the rocky, uneven ground, the enchanting yet precarious topography with deadly traps, constrained them to once more advance on foot. Neither of them minded this too much, for it also gave them the chance to discuss, compare and to exchange various views. Presently, as the sun's unobstructed rays bathed them in a shimmering, golden light that warmly caressed their faces, sounds of the gurgling of brooks and rivulets of melted snow and ice came from seemingly everywhere, flooding their ears.

 It was a truly spectacular warm morning that would have gladdened the weariest of hearts; but then that afternoon without warning, the rising, gusting winds whipped up the dark clouds overhead.

 The sun now in hasty retreat, the earth became gloomy, and its former gay tunes were drowned by somber whimpers and ominous drums.  There was no room for mercy in the incessant downpour that followed: its thrashing winds and rolling thunder shook all the hills around them. In the shrouding mists and pelting, wind-driven rain, Nevetsecnuac and Alec soaked to the skin, plodded (trod) mechanically, along the muddy, slushy, winding paths.

 Stopping only at night fall at a makeshift shelter, they ate some dried rations, oftentimes slept standing snuggled up to their mount for warmth or slept sitting up backs propped against some rock or tree-trunk, and then at first daylight they resumed their journey. In this way they had ridden out the storm that had lasted on and off, with persistent winds and overcast skies, for several dismal days.

 

                                                                                    ~

 

It was quite some time before the sun’s rays had again graced the earth.  Anew, the hard ground invited Nevetsecnuac and Alec to ride in gallop. By then having reached the emerald, green flat plains, carpeted in flowers, their hearts filled with renewed anticipation, they spurred their horses to cover once more vast distances.  The incessant ride halted only when darkness enveloped the earth. As they were still far removed from the nearest dwelling, they made a camp at the edge of the densely wooded area skirting a good size lake. Finding a suitable spot, sheltered from the full fury of the elements, they tethered the horses, washed up, and then quickly consumed some sustenance.  Drained (exhausted) from the day’s strenuous ride, they propped their weary backs against sturdy trees and under the canopy of the moon and stars with the earth as their mat, they closed their eyes, finally, for that well-earned sleep.

In that dream state, Nevetsecnuac saw himself fetching some more firewood at dawn, which he promptly deposited inside the cabin, then went out to wash up by the creek. His uncle was there already, finishing up.

“You are being too remiss!” At once Stark (Lord Asger) sternly admonished him. “Danger abounds, you must remain at all times, on your guard!”

Suddenly he heard a wild ruckus coming from the stables, as there was an alarm raised by Fiery Comet, stomping and neighing. Dropping everything, in haste both, Svein (Nevetsecnuac) and Stark (Lord Asger) darted towards it to investigate.

At this juncture, Nevetsecnuac was awakened with a start and saw the blade of Alec Therkan poised over him in readiness to strike.  Reacting swiftly, Nevetsecnuac adroitly twisted to one side and the sword with a loud thwack clove the tree trunk instead.  Rolling over, Nevetsecnuac nimbly grabbed his sword just in time to dexterously block Alec's next deadly strike.

"Have you gone mad?” Nevetsecnuac shouted at him in bewilderment and sudden rage.  

Alec, his eyes glinting with murder, derisively jeered through his gritted teeth,

"Don't call me 'Alec'.  The traitor Taok Therkan died childless years ago at his own father's hand." 

 

(END OF SECTION 16)

(NEXT POST- SECTION 17- THE CONCLUSION OF THE ASSASSINS)