LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE CAPITAL CHANNING - SECTION 3

Minister Zaur was about to reach for a morsel, when his complexion suddenly became ashen and his pupils for a spell dilated (became wider, larger). He slumped (slouched) back into chair, appearing dazed and as though he was fighting to restrain an overwhelming sense of queasiness (nausea).  That same instance, his mind underwent a subtle but decisive change.

01-ZAUR STUGR 17

Subsequently, as they consumed more spirits the conversation that ensued took on renewed vigor and at the same time became more varied in scope, this lasting well into the night. 

The topic of conversation periodically, amidst insinuations, touched on the existing internal strife in Wenjenkun between the two powerful factions, then purposefully reverted, delving into in depth issues at hand and their resulting spin-offs.  The direct or indirect account recounted in rapid succession next was designed purposefully to confuse the issue or perhaps test Fradel's ability to keep up.

Going along, Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) fed the good minister explicit (precise, exact, specific) altercations, challenging issues, and topics, and tiresome or alternately intriguing facts in profusion to dazzle the mind.  Masterfully sparring (jousting, fencing) with ideas and hypothesis, Zaur Stugr had finally met his match.

Though elated at first, soon growing tired of this intellectual banter (repartee, wit), the charade and all that strenuous mind games, Minister Zaur steered the topic once more to seemingly mundane, innocuous affairs.

Nevetsecnuac, with his resilience at first, was reluctant to concede.  He could utilize still more varied stratagems (ploys, gambits), profound views enmeshed with questions to subtly extricate from his host the pertinent information he felt he needed for the successful conclusion to his mission.  Out of consideration for his host, however, he forewent these, seeing how Minister Zaur Stugr 's eyes were now drooping, and his body slouched slightly in utter exhaustion, despite his ceaseless prattling about some present-day political rhetoric that was obviously a hot issue in Court.  In accordance with etiquette, Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) akin showing fatigue discreetly yawned; this provided his host, Minister Zaur, the perfect opportunity to propose calling it a night.

 

                                                                                   ~

 

That late evening after Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) had dismissed all his pesky (bothersome) servants and had seemingly retired, his mind until dawn in fact, taking no solace from his plush surroundings, had raced mercilessly with conflicting summations, views, and personages.  Nevetsecnuac’s thoughts, in a profusion of images, veered incessantly from Deng Hedenko, to his beloved Teuquob, to Heng Erling, to Duan, to Lu Moldan, to Yagu Dorka, to Lord Shonne Gulbrand, to Sorgun Dofu, to Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon, to Egil Viggoaries, to Zunrogo Tugo, to Tizan Lout, to Lance Diostin, to Zonar, to Dwengzu, to Zakhertan Yozdek, to Hedenko's assassins, and finally to Zaur Stugr. 

Then unpredictably (variably) Nevetsecnuac’s thoughts had lingered for a time on this curious bureaucrat Zaur whom he suspected to be deeply embroiled in this discriminating, astute world of politics, as well, the underlying layer of intrigue and clandestine acts. Contrasting with the seemingly unassuming first impressions, Nevetsecnuac conceived now that Zaur Stugr was rather a more calculating, complex, manipulative, and very profound individual; a most probable explanation therefore, for his (Nevetsecnuac’s) failure to elicit any candid response to any of the pertinent issues he had put forth, all during this evening. Nevetsecnuac felt quite apprehensive at not being able to penetrate that complex cerebral and psychological hedge that Zaur had erected; hence, not being able to appraise Zaur Stugr’s true motives, his genuine personal feelings, vested interests, or political leanings.

Minister Zaur, with his consummate sophistry had oscillated his arguments expertly during the exchange between diverging points of view, therefore appearing totally non-committed about any issues despite his seeming ebullience.  Zaur Stugr had been most careful, even when inebriated, to offer Nevetsecnuac the precise information that appeared invaluable at the outset but, on closer scrutiny, became a dangerous precipice to traverse, all chiefly to measure Nevetsecnuac's response.

In all that time minister Zaur Stugr had tirelessly woven a web of intangible, indecipherable facts to cloud the real, serious issues that were periodically and purposefully interspersed in the seemingly innocuous conversation.

After a time, Nevetsecnuac in resignation shrugged, then divesting his outer garments, reclined on the bed, however, as sleep still averted  him , he simply lay on his back and fixed his gaze on the ornate ceiling; as his eyes gradually adjusted to the scant light from the solitary oil lamp; he distractedly traced the swirls of the intricate filigree.  Despite his outward calm, his heart was torn by conflicting emotions over the inevitable denouement of his intentions.

He’d gone nowhere with his tireless efforts of obtaining any, least bit of info; all his subtle inquiries had amounted to nothing. Either no one knew or everyone was too frightened to even talk about such dangerous topics. 

The dungeon was immense and had many subterranean tunnels all heavily guarded. As for Lord Asger ‘s son, Ivar Marrog Zhon’s whereabouts, (Nevetsecnuac had learned the name by then,) it had been clearly a well-kept secret. Then there had been that presupposition by some individuals that Ivar Marrog Zhon had long been, secretly expired.  This prospect had profoundly (forlornly) frustrated Nevetsecnuac.

 

02- NEVETSECNUAC  JP 34

Nevetsecnuac’s thoughts reverting to Zakhertan Yozdek, the usurper, he shifted uneasily, in his bed.

Having fully assessed the current political situation well in hand, he had come to grips with the grim, undeniable reality that, when he succeeded in his aim, it portended great danger for Wenjenkun.  Logic and duty in his core again stood in terrible conflict. 

The villainous usurper, Zakhertan Yozdek, for all his brutal crimes, was a necessary evil.  After all, he had consolidated his power over everything and had maintained under his iron rule thus far a strong nation that could easily withstand any foreign aggressor, even one as formidable as Emperor Deng Hedenko.

 And what of Korion, who was waiting in the wings for a single chance to strike back despite their seeming conformity (submission)?

Nevetsecnuac comprehended full well, how by killing Zakhertan Yozdek he would be fulfilling his destiny and avenging the countless dead, victimized, wronged, and oppressed citizens of his country and, at the same time, would be robbing the state of the cornerstone of its strength and its best defense. 

By his action he would cast Wenjenkun into utter chaos, during which internal strife would take hold, led chiefly by those three rival contenders, the Yozdek faction, Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren and Minister of Internal Security, Egil Viggoaries’ group, and render the Empire vulnerable to the invading armies of the foreign aggressor, Deng Hedenko, admittedly a greater villain than Zakhertan Yozdek. 

Yet, despite pertinent (relevant) logic, his heart was propelled to wrack vengeance upon Zakhertan Yozdek, if only for Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon; and besides, he was deeply bound by a strong sense of duty, filial piety, and loyalty to his family, they, taking precedence before Wenjenkun.  How, otherwise, could he face his Ancestors, Lord Asger Zhon, Lord Shonne Gulbrand, the real Fradel Rurik Korvald and the countless others who had sacrificed so much to give him this singular chance? 

Nevetsecnuac did not delude himself that he could, by enlisting the support of one of the rival contenders, through the application of ‘the divide-and-conquer strategy’, take over the state as Crown Prince and rightful heir, without the full support of the army and enough of the bureaucrats to administer the state. So entrenched were these three factions, in the fabric of Wenjenkun that any real change would be improbable, not while these cliques retained even the fraction of their power. There would, at best, still be a period of transition during which the contending parties of the Prime Minister, the Eunuch and the Yozdek family, one by one, would have to be put down and, if need be, entirely (rooted out) eradicated.

 Nevetsecnuac knew that, in most perfect scenario, should he survive these ordeals, his reign may well become the briefest Dynasty. He was also mindful (aware), that his precarious scholar disguise (as a Fradel Rurik Korvald) would not last to avail him of another such opportunity.  The pending (imminent) reversal of fortune for literate was fast approaching (near). They would once more become the escape-goat in the blame game for all the ills of society and county. Meanwhile, the burden of vengeance for all those wronged, restless spirits rested solely and squarely on his shoulders, and he alone had been given this one-time rare opportunity to avenge them all and bring the villain Zakhertan Yozdek to justice.

 Could he spare him because the country needed a strong leader to control the precarious state of internal and external (foreign) affairs that was chiefly Zakhertan’s doing in the first place? 

He had sustained this political volatility chiefly to ensure his uninterrupted reign, right down to fostering an incompetent weakling, which was Crown Prince and heir apparent, Herleif.

Things had already been set in motion. The dreaded future of this country being overrun by a foreign aggressor was as inevitable as the dawn of the day. Once Zakhertan Yozdek was dead, whether it was by assassination or just old age, Wenjenkun was fated to be plunged into a struggle for power that would leave it vulnerable for any hostile takeover.  As Nevetsecnuac saw it, he had no other alternative but to fulfill his destiny and abide by ‘Heaven’s Mandate’.  The Yozdek Reign was meant to end at this time. That was surely a ‘Divine Intervention’, at work here; and that is why he’d been lured out prematurely into this vengeful world. Five years would not have made that much of a difference; he knew full well, that is to be the truth now.

It was in this terrible; unresolved state of mind that Nevetsecnuac (Fradel) faced (greeted) the first light of dawn.

 

                                                                        ~

After the morning session of Court and as soon as he had concluded his other obligations and responsibilities of office, Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren in an unorthodox, yet politically astute move, visited the private residence of the Minister of Ceremony, Zaur Stugr, to extend his personal welcome to the illustrious scholar and poet Fradel Rurik Korvald- one that had been chosen particularly by the Sovereign's chief consort and most recent favorite, Sejon.

In keeping with propriety, Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) bowed low and said, "I have been remiss in my duty and have failed to pay my respects upon my arrival in Channing, to you, Your Excellency; to my great shame you have honored me instead, with your visit."

03- PM LAMONT GUDAREN 7-JP

“I am only too happy to do it.” Prime Minister responded in an unusually affectionate tone and smiled; after which, though he was more than twice Fradel Rurik Korvald’s age, Lamont Gudaren bowed his head slightly in return, as measure of his deep respect, to the scholar.

The Prime Minister, with his glib tongue, bestowed his further felicitations and other such pleasantries as they both moved towards the reception chamber.

There, host and guests (all three,) comfortably seated sipped fragrant tea, and, under the guise of a seemingly innocuous, sincere conversation, they gauged each other’s strengths and weaknesses. During this seemingly pleasant exchange of ideas which lasted several hours, Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren, a man of discerning mind, became more and more enthused by the infinite potential he saw in this scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald.

 

“I could reap untold benefits from furthering this scholar.”  He told himself. 

 

Never one to take chances, however, Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren extended his visit of Minister of Ceremony, Zaur Stugr and Illustrious Scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald and stayed for lunch.  During the sumptuous private feast, despite the heavy consumption of wine, tirelessly, yet discreetly, Prime Minister prodded scholar’s mind further, to ascertain that his first impressions about him had been correct.  By the end of his subsequent, though, subtle (shrewd, ingenious) examination, Lamont was unequivocally impressed with the scholar's superior attributes; his eloquence, his outstanding quickness and brilliance of mind, his noble bearing, and exceptional good looks; all these findings had far exceeded the Prime Minister's expectations.

“If Fradel Rurik Korvald had been born to a noble family he would have, most certainly, gone much farther than he had.” Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren mused, looking down and stroking the long, stringy beard that reached his mid-chest.

 

 “But all is not lost; even at this late stage, something can easily be arranged.”  

At that very moment Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren had conceived a plan to utilize the scholar’s full potential by adopting him into his ranks where, as his protégé, he could mold Fradel into the position of greatness he deserved.

“Ah, that is if the political winds do not shift yet again.” But then on second thought Lamont conceded that it would be best to exercise caution and bide his time until Fradel Rurik Korvald had passed His Highness' scrutiny.

“Yes, we will first assess the impression you make on the Emperor, Fradel Rurik Korvald, before we risk all in any venture on your behalf.”

 

Prime Minister was just then given a confidential message; after a quick perusal, despite his reluctance to end the stimulating exchange (conversation) with Fradel, he quickly rose to his feet.  Stating that, “he must return to his office to attend to an urgent matter of the State,” he quickly left.

Seated comfortably within the posh carriage that was hastening away, Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren knitted his brows in ire and mumbled.  “How could things have gotten so out of hand? No doubt about it, Egil Viggoaries has engineered this!  He has played his hand just so, to discredit me.”

 

 

                                                                                ~

 

(END OF SECTION 3) 

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 33

Hecun half believing his ears nevertheless listened on, as Mouro summarized Micen's reasons, his fears of retribution from the not so vulnerable, in fact the dangerously influential Fradel Rurik Korvald, and the entire sinister plot that had been concocted to extricate Micen from any danger and future trouble.

"After you had been poisoned all the corpses, including the prisoner, would have been barbarously mutilated.  In addition to some incriminating evidence planted at the scene, the blame for the massacre would have been indisputably shifted onto Zonar, and the responsibility for it onto Magistrate Rue."

"So, because of Micen's incompetent handling of this case, all of us were to be brutally sacrificed just to tidy up his own mess."  Hecun, understanding the full implications, mused out loud.

"Yes.  That, in a nutshell, would be it exactly."

"Such treachery I can expect from Micen Do," Hecun's face darkened as he burrowed his burning gaze into Mouro, "but you, you?  If you were aware of this diabolical plot from the start, why did you not see fit to warn me about it?"

"Think, brother, could I really do that without exposing myself?  As far as they are concerned, we have been adversaries ever since I took that promotion away from you."

"You're so smart; you could have found a way if you'd wanted to.”

"All right, perhaps I'm deserving of your contempt."  Mouro turned his head away, abashed, and then wryly ejected, "Though I'm ashamed to admit it now, I did, at the time, go along with Micen, selfishly wanting greater gain.  I'm not perfect."

"Greater gain… What, a greater gain!" Hecun exploded. "Greater gain than our friendship?  After all I've done for you?  You bring a new meaning to the word 'loyalty'."  Hecun highly incensed, spat on the ground in disgust.

 "From now on I will consider you as my enemy."

"Not so fast", Mouro protested, blocking the other's way.

"You're always so dramatic!  No, you listen!  Fine, I accept my shortcomings.  I confess that perhaps I'm too ambitious.  I'm guilty as Hell all right and I deserve your contempt, but doesn't it count for something that I didn't go through with it?  I didn't have to expose the plan to you at all, you know."

"True, you didn't, but there still is the fact that you collaborated with Micen against me.  You cold-heartedly plotted to murder me.  Am I supposed to feel better now that you've had a sudden attack of conscience?" Hecun scoffed coldly.

"Fine, I deserved that!  I'm a despicable human being, not as noble as you.  Now that you've gotten all that off of your chest, will you at least listen to me?  Whether you like it or not, if you're to survive this danger, you must work with me and not against me.  It’s imperative that we pool our resources together to deliver you from this perilous predicament.  Though you may now think that it’s asking too much, you must put your trust in me for this, if only but for old times’ sake."

“Trust you?  Trust you?  Imagine, you have the audacity to ask me that?  I'd sooner trust a scorpion.”

 Suppressing his inner feelings then, speaking aloud, Hecun asked wryly, "How do I know this isn't another ruse, another twisted plot?  How can I be ascertained that you're not ensnaring me in yet another facet of Micen's fatal trap, eh?"

"You're wrong, brother, in still suspecting me."

"Don't call me your brother,” Hecun spat on the ground.  "You disgust me."

"Fine, fine…Go ahead and hate me if you must but, for heaven's sake, don't let your emotions have reign over your reasoning."  Mouro was fighting hard to contain his anger.

"Stop for a minute and think.  Why did I let you in on it?  You think I like making things difficult for me?  Believe me when I say, this was the only way I could intercede and come through for you without endangering myself as well.  I haven't got much time to try to convince you of this.  I have to get back before I'm missed, so let some sense penetrate that thick skull of yours.  I made a clean breast of things too...Oh, all right; I'll confess this as well, if only to convince you: my fate, just like yours, is also hanging in balance here.  Yes, I, too, am in as much peril."

"So that's it!  It was because your own hide is at risk.  That's the reason for your change of heart.  I knew there was a good, solid, selfish motive behind all this sudden honesty." Hecun sneered.

Ignoring him, Mouro glanced around suspiciously then continued, "Unfortunately, I became aware of this fact only recently.”

“A few days back, as I was contemplating a means of helping you and, at the same time, considering taking my own guards into my confidence when some relatively insignificant act by Dag Diez arose my suspicion.  Since this nagging doubt persisted, I arranged to have him totally incapacitated by drink and seduced by an innkeeper's voluptuous niece.  After he had passed out, she let me into his room, and I made an avid search of his clothing.  You must understand why this measure was warranted.  For the entire duration of our journey, I had not seen Dag Diez even once disrobe for any reason.  He even insisted on sleeping fully clothed.  Little did I expect to find my own death warrant?  It was there, though, that vile, confounded, confidential letter from Micen, oh, I know his handwriting, ordering him to cooperate fully with the spies in your detachment and, after the completion of the deed, to dispose of my own corpse in the same fashion and add my name to the casualty list as well."

Mouro frowned, biting his lip.  "Now, I ask you, how could you and I, who hand-picked those two hundred men, have been so remiss, so gullible, as to have allowed some of Micen's spies to infiltrate those ranks?  It boggles the mind how we could have been so easily duped.  I admit, it’s partly my own fault for underestimating the resourcefulness of that crafty Micen Do, as well as the extent of his power."  Mouro's voice softened as he began speaking half to himself and began to walk away.

"That's essentially it.  Using my weakness against me, he beguiled me into believing I was his indispensable confidant.  Oh, what a joke!  But then, yes, it’s clear to me now why he wished to be rid of me."  For a moment Mouro reflected, absentmindedly drifting off to further personal, private concerns.  Catching himself in his folly, he abruptly halted, cleared his throat, and turned his gaze back to Hecun.

Smiling wryly, he continued, “Needless to say, from the moment I'd read the letter I was positively incensed, hence even more determined to completely undermine Micen's grand scheme."

Gritting his teeth, he stayed slightly on every word, "And this will be achieved only by our safe delivery of the prisoner Fradel Rurik Korvald to the Capital."  He then nodded with assurance for emphasis, noting Hecun's remaining skepticism. 

"Therein will lay our salvation...  As I mentioned briefly prior to this, Fradel Rurik Korvald has a strong influence among the powerful elite of the Imperial Court.  As soon as his grievance against Micen is aired to them, the repercussions against the Prefect will surely follow.  We, meanwhile, will delay setting out on our return journey and so escape the inevitable rippling effects of his downfall.

03- MOURO AND HECUN

“I must rely, of course, on Fradel's sense of fair play since he does appear to be that sort.  I'm confident he won't persecute those who are only doing their jobs.  Who can fault us for merely following orders, especially if tomorrow, after the opposition is wiped out, we make certain amends to him at obvious risk to ourselves."  Recalling his own ill-treatment of the prisoner in the courtroom, Mouro hung his head in silence but quickly shrugged his shoulders and brushed it aside.

“At least you were not as cruel with Fradel Rurik Korvald as you were with that hapless Canute Yonn,” Hecun pondered the same concerns.

Surmising the Bailiff's thoughts, Mouro grimaced coldly.  "For now, you must guard the prisoner well and let no harm befall him.  When I show up tomorrow with Kade Luir, for I mean to dispose of that cur Dag Diez well before then, you and I will express concern and release Fradel from the cage.  I'm sure he won't raise a serious objection to being put back inside once we're in the vicinity of Magistrate Rue's offices.”

“Oh, unfortunately, my hasty departure tonight made me entirely forget to bring the key.  But then, it would have been rather pointless anyhow, even if I had remembered."  He spread his hands animatedly, sneering, "You couldn't just spring him out now, could you?  He'll be far safer tonight staying just where he is."

“And besides, you wouldn't want me to take all the credit in Fradel's eyes, would you?” Hecun narrowed his eyes.

"Now remember, after I've taken off in a huff tonight, you must let yourself be cajoled into a calmer state, then condescend to drinking the wine that I had brought along.  Well before this, however, you must select two competent and trustworthy men and take them into your confidence, for you cannot do this alone.  Let them know that you suspect renegades have infiltrated their ranks in order to prevent the successful conclusion of this mission.  With their support you can then make your move.  In isolated, controlled groups share the wine with each of the men.  Those guards who abstain from drinking it, as they believe that it’s lethal, must be put to the sword at once.  Do not, I repeat, do not, hesitate or even consider taking them prisoners because it will only lead to further complications down the road.  The odds are stacked against us as it is; why should we needlessly compound the risks with traitors as prisoners?  Oh, and here, before I forget."  Mouro drew out a folded paper from an inner pocket.  "The directions in here will lead you to that well.  I regret that I have no time now to show it to you."

"Are you certain Kade Luir is to be trusted?  How can you be so certain that he's not in league with Dag Diez?"

04-KADE LUIR

"Him...?  Yes.  Kade Luir and I are, or rather had been once, rather intimate, sort of…”  Mouro smiled sheepishly, knowing Hecun's intolerance of his illicit relationships with men.

"You may not condone it," he could not resist rubbing it in, "but its commonplace in the army. This sort of friendship, the comradery (comradeship), fosters true loyalty, especially when your life is repeatedly put at risk; moreover, you can see how useful it proved at this instance.  Yes, I do trust Kade Luir completely; at best he will assist us, at worst, he won't give us any trouble.  Come to think of it, since he's quite adept with a sword, I will do my utmost to enlist his assistance should things go awry, and I'm forced into dire armed (conflict) confrontation with that brute Dag Diez.  You see, Dag Diez is guarded against me but not against Kade Luir.  He looks down on and despises him, considers him a weakling because of his suspected assignations a long time ago with me."  Mouro ignored the judgmental reproach in Hecun's (eyes) look.

"Hence, I can use this effectively against Dag Diez to beget (effect) his demise.  Now, let us both get back before we arouse suspicion.  You know what to do.  Play your part well."

After these directions Mouro strode boldly out of the ruined tower with Hecun close at his heels.  Suddenly, he halted in mid stride, causing Hecun to crash into his back.  Turning to face the Head Bailiff, Mouro said gravely, "Oh, there is one more thing I'd unfortunately neglected to mention."

Cautiously glancing about, he moved his head closer to Hecun's and whispered, "Fradel Rurik Korvald's identity papers that you were furnished with are false.  When my suspicions were aroused, I unsealed an envelope I had been entrusted with containing what I was told were his true papers.  Examining them with great care they, too, proved to be clever forgeries. “

“Hmm… Let us hope that, when I bring the key tomorrow, we find the originals in there with him.  Otherwise, we'll be in a terrible fix, won't we?  I don't know what we'll do then.  Now, let's play out this charade to its conclusion."  He dashed forward, along with Hecun, to be swallowed up by the oppressive darkness.

Feigning great anger when he came within sight of the guards, Mouro marched right through them with curses on his lips, violently kicking away the red-hot embers of the campfire in his path.  He boldly strode past the sentry, still fuming, and, snatching the horse's reins away, led the mare across the bridge.

Hecun, behind him, was left to play out the next, very crucial, scene.

                                                                                     ~

 

(END OF SECTION 33)