LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE CAPITAL CHANNING - SECTION 7

Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) at present graciously handed the key to Zaur when the minister politely inquired about it, seeing no reason at all, to why he should not enlist Zaur Stugr's help in resolving this mystery. 

01- THE MYSTERIOUS KEY

“Oh blessed, gracious Heaven!  After all this time you've reached me from beyond.” Zaur Stugr wanted to cry out loud, holding back his tears.

"It's probably nothing of consequence." Zaur had finally ejected as a matter-of-factly, pressing (puckering, compressing) his lips and feigning mild interest, as he held on to the key.

"It is a pretty thing, though.  Isn't it?” Zaur looked directly at Fradel, and at the same time tried making light of the object.  "I dare say it’s of unusual construction.”

“Unfortunately," Zaur then shook his head, "I can't decipher these strange pictographs, these antiquated, curvilinear indentations at the base of the stem."  He reached over and pointed them out to Fradel (Nevetsecnuac).

Zaur’s not altogether convincing professed ignorance, after his brief scrutiny of the key, had again peaked Nevetsecnuac's interest.

 "Up to now, I confess, I've prided myself on being quite an expert at finding the meanings of these sort symbols, pictographs.  I have a sizable collection of similar curiosities at my disposal.  Naturally, they are kept out of harm's way for private viewing only.  Not everyone shares my interest, you see.” Zaur was now being unusually talkative, which further apexed Nevetsecnuac’s curiosity.

"My wife has harangued me often enough to dispose of such antiquities, insisting that I stay within the bounds of modern taste.  If you're interested, however, I would be delighted (most happy) to show them to you when we are better disposed." Zaur Stugr rattled on, playing the eccentric fool.  Inwardly he was considering his options, devising ways of procuring the key without raising the scholar's curiosity.

 

02-THE KEY AND THE BOX

The fact that the pictographs were identical to the ones on the box Zaur had in his secret possession (he’d kept in the secret compartment) had confirmed what he had all along suspected.

Just then, mixed feelings of apprehension, relief and dread washed over Zaur Stugr and gripped his heart.  Oddly enough, he was now afraid of finding out the truth.  He had long since given up, never expecting to see this key again, much less holding it in his palm. “I have spent most of my life searching for this key, expecting it to resolve my lifelong, anguished dilemma.” He solemnly ruminated (mused).

As it happens, the key resting on his palm had conjured up memories both pleasant and dreadful.  All the hopeful waiting, the heartbreak, the loneliness!  Suddenly Zaur was most anxious to get away from the inquisitive scrutiny of Fradel Rurik Korvald and to get at the box. 

“No!” he checked his impatience.  There was still much that had to be learned and a few things he needed to make certain of first.  His eyes, leaving the key, looked up sharply.

"Have you shown this item to anyone else…Zunrogo, perhaps?" Zaur made a deliberate effort at feigning a moderate interest.

03-ZAUR STUGR JP 8

Going along with his host's charade, Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) simply complacently smiled and shook his head.   "No, with everything that has been happening lately, I'd actually forgotten its existence."

 Curiously enough, Nevetsecnuac's answer seemed to reassure Zaur Stugr and, a sure elated smile widened (in a curvature) his host's lips.

 “You know full well, all about it, don't you?” Nevetsecnuac silently questioned his host; but Zaur’s youthful age precluded him from (being directly involved) having any direct involvement. Regardless, the key certainly had some personal significance to Zaur.  Suddenly the picture was much clearer to Nevetsecnuac.  Zaur Stugr had positively identified the key and knew exactly who it had belonged to.  He could therefore, if properly coaxed, unravel the identity of at least one of those tortured skeletons.  

Zaur Stugr’s seemingly placid face was fanned by the light breeze which carried on it the intoxicating fragrance of the night air and he had remained distractedly quiet for some time, his mind immersed in a serious recollection.

“What are you afraid of exposing after such an obvious timespan?  Why would you disclaim any knowledge of its importance to you?  Nevetsecnuac, however, made no outward inquiry and, instead, waited patiently for Zaur's next response.

Marshaling his thoughts, Zaur Stugr suddenly turned to face Fradel and, with deliberate calm in his voice asked, "It is indeed a rare antique.  How did you manage to obtain it?"

Fradel (Nevetsecnuac), in those lapsed few moments had already anticipated Zaur’s next question; he could not disclose the truth however, without revealing how he had ended up in the burial pit and, furthermore, escaped the inescapable traps. And so, he quietly reviewed his options of likely responses.

“I could claim I found it on the side of the road.  No that's too trite and would not be believed. What I need is a lame, boring explanation suited to a scholar, yet with enough of an angle to divert questions elsewhere.  Better to go with a partial fabrication with just enough fact to it to appear plausible.” 

Responding as a matter-of-factly now, Nevetsecnuac summed up in no uncertain terms his experience that had led to finding the key.

04-NEVETS ON HORSEBACK IN THE RAIN (2)

“It had all transpired at the time, while I was traveling on horseback alone on route to the Capital and, wanting to be innocuous, was garbed (dressed) in ordinary travelling clothes. This was a time well before my teaming up with Zunrogo Tugo and the guards.  That afternoon, caught in a sudden torrential downpour, I had sought a refuge at the roadside Inn/ tea house.                                 

“I had been enjoying my steamed tea and hot cakes when an old man, his tattered clothes soaked to the skin, also sought refuge in the same tea house.  Despite the cash that the old man had held out in his hand, he was rudely greeted by the proprietor, denied seating at any table, even though there were few empty ones about, and told to leave the premises at once.”

"Can't you see we're full up?  Go down the road!" The proprietor had rasped as he apprehensively looked around him, afraid that his other customers might be offended by the likes of this tattered old man.

"This is a respectable place.  No solicitation is allowed."  Turning a deaf ear to the old man's pleas, he signaled to his two hefty attendants (waiters) to at once dispose of this unwanted nuisance (pest, bug).

In the ensuing seconds hence, the old man was hastily hustled outside.” Fradel winced (cringed, recoiled) at this point with obvious abhorrence (loathing) of the proprietor.

Zaur nodded and grimaced wryly as he envisioned the typical scenario being played out repeatedly throughout the land.  “So, what's so odd about that? Cruelly he was driven out into the cold, pelting rain, so what about it?" Fradel Rurik Korvald’s obvious indignation just then baffled Zaur, and he riveted his keen, questioning gaze on the other's face.

“Ah!  Scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald had lived in privileged seclusion all these years; therefore, he had not been exposed to the sweeping changes, the new brutish realities of the populace's everyday existence. Naturally, this would shock him.” The answer came to him quickly, Zaur nodded.

 "And no doubt, being the gentleman you are, you stood up to defend that poor wretch." Zaur’s downward gaze concealed the smirk on his lips and the scorn in his eyes.

As Zaur Stugr had expected, by his own account the scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald, unable to swallow this injustice, had indeed rushed to the old man's rescue.  Fradel had indignantly risen to his feet and called out to the old man, walked over and next greeted the elder with respectful familiarity. 

Ignoring the snarls and frowns of the manager and his staff, he had then guided the old man, named Yakkasar back to his table.

(Of course, Yakkasar was a made-up name which Nevetsecnuac on the spur had invented.)

 "I could not stand by and let this happen.  The injustice of it all fired my soul with seething rage." Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) abashedly explained.

At the outset Zaur expressed a sympathetic view and urged Fradel Rurik Korvald to please continue.  Seeming to lend an attentive ear, Zaur inwardly however, jeered with derision and tagged a few more items on to the list he had been mentally compiling of the presumed characteristics of his guest Fradel Rurik Korvald: “Fradel is righteously soft and sentimental; sentimental enough to patronize (support) the grave robbing scum of the earth.”

“And of course, you treated him to not just a tea but a complete, hot, full-course meal.”  Zaur (with his prejudiced viewpoint) wearyingly continued to listen to Fradel, inwardly filling in some details, to the old man Yakkasar's hard luck story.

Apparently, the old thief had been in hard straits and had starved for the two days prior to this chance encounter with the perfect stooge, Fradel Rurik Korvald.  Though he had flashed some money around, it had barely been enough for a cup of tea, as the rest had to have been reserved for his night's lodgings.  To one as destitute as him, Fradel Rurik Korvald must have appeared as a godsend. 

Sitting himself across from the scholar, he had polished off several dishes in record time then, with a bloated stomach, sat back to express his undying gratitude and praise his newfound friend to the sky.  Next, he had decisively recounted how his wife had been lost to him in the great flood of yesteryear and how, having escaped the disaster, he had settled in the foothills of town Huer where he had been constrained to carve out a meager livelihood and single-handedly raised his only surviving son, Toza, to adulthood. The other two children had succumbed to fatal diseases, no surprise there: shortly after his wife's tragic demise.  For the hardships he had endured he had been amply rewarded; while his son, the mighty hunter had lived, Yakkasar had not known any hardship, hunger, or misery.

“No one would dare tackle the local ruffian.” Zaur scoffed, growing more impatient with Fradel now. Disguising (veiling, masking) his irritation, however, he simply looked away, and with an unreadable expression, watched the shadows for a time dancing in the light breeze in the well-manicured (rimmed, shaped) garden.

05-GARDEN IN TWILIGHT

“Why was Fradel being so insistent in dragging this out?” Zaur shifted into his seat, having had already conceived of the only possible outcome to this story.

 “This purported hunter Yakkasar’s son Toza had no doubt recovered the key along with, only the gods know what else, and had probably been murdered in some other town trying to fence it.  A fitting end for his kind! The old geezer Yakkasar had survived long enough though, to span this lengthy yarn to Fradel.” Zaur lowered his gaze and affixed it back on the key. “But what would be the point of exposing this Yakkasar’s fraud and embarrassing the gullible Fradel Rurik Korvald?  What did it matter what fabrication the old rogue had been feeding the unsuspecting stranger like Fradel, as-long-as he, at least, had been truthful about the location where he had recovered the key.”

Experience had taught Zaur not to overlook the incidentals, the seemingly unrelated details that supported the main report.  Lacking in imagination, men of Yakkasar's sort often built a bridge of lies on pillars of truth to make their story more credible.  In this case even an approximation would be of some use.  With due patience therefore, Zaur had lent an uninterrupted, though a semi-disinterested ear to, Fradel Rurik Korvald’s present redundancies to gauge the true facts he really was after.

“Good!” Nevetsecnuac was inwardly pleased with the apparent result.  As he had surmised, a more elaborate story would have made Zaur dubious.  The naiveté of the narrative had expectedly played Zaur right in Nevetsecnuac's hands.

Nevetsecnuac at present drawing this out, painstakingly related in detail all Yakkasar’s tedious accounts about Toza’s great potential and his prospects.  Yakkasar then unexpectedly leaning closer to Fradel at one point, had supposedly whispered the pertinent details; how on one such routine hunting trip Toza had traversed some unfamiliar ground near a certain pass to get to an area where game could reportedly be had in abundance. The specifics of the topography which, Yakkasar had professed at that moment, had been rather hazy and bit hard for him to recollect.

This setback had inwardly infuriated Zaur; nevertheless, yet again admirably suppressed his ire and impatience.

Nevetsecnuac had of course deliberately, contrived (manufactured) the old man's forgetfulness at this point, as a means of excluding the credible detail Zaur expected or hoped to hear; subtly testing therefore, Zaur 's true intent and measure of his commitment.

 Nevetsecnuac knew that without specific information about the Cyprecox Pass, Zaur’s search for the pit would be rendered fruitless.  As it were, there were several such strategic passes in and around the Capital province, most concealing similar traps, pits, and mass graves that had been constructed at the time to effectively repel the scores of foreign aggressions that had been unleashed on Wenjenkun.  This fact Nevetsecnuac had learned from Zunrogo, during one of their intense political discussions about ingenious historical military campaigns. Drawing from this, Nevetsecnuac had made Toza’s find, one such historical undertaking (enterprise) pit. Having served Zaur with a perfect lure (bait), Nevetsecnuac would now wait, in the interim drawing out the tale, to see how long it would take Zaur to make his anticipated inquiry.

The dullness of the narrative up to this point had nearly put Zaur to sleep.  He had just about run out of patience and was about to hasten Fradel Rurik Korvald to get on with it and urge him to recollect, to reveal the information Zaur sought most to gain, which was the actual, if not an approximation (estimate) of location, of the grave. Fradel Rurik Korvald’s next revelation however, shocked and halted his aim.

"Midway to Toza's destination, the earth under his feet had suddenly given way and cast him into a deep pit.  The hunter, after barely surviving the great fall, had discovered to his great horror that the place was writhing with worms and snakes, and even some skeletal remains."

“A pit… What, skeletal remains?”

06-SKELETAL REMAINS IN PIT

Seemingly turning a blind eye to Zaur’s agitation, Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) used the same impassive tone to then recount how Toza, by great good fortune, had escaped serious injury and had suffered only minor lacerations and bruises.

“Trapped as he’d been Toza had faced certain death within that terrible pit but, opportunely some other hunters were following the same trail as Toza’s and, hearing his desperate cries for help, rushed to his aid. Expending ingenuity and, with concerted effort, they eventually succeeded in hauling Toza up to safety; but not before he had chanced upon the key hidden in the jaw of one of the skeletons, those selfsame bones that lay huddled in a far corner opposite to all the rest.  Presumably the impact of Toza's fall had caused the brittle jawbone to snap and release the key; the key which now became plainly visible in the dark cavity of the mouth, in due course giving him quite a fright."

07-KEY HIDDEN IN MOUTH

 From the corner of his eye Nevetsecnuac had noted how Zaur had, for a fleeting second, flinched at the mere mention of the solitary skeleton that held the key.

 All color had completely drained from the good minister's face as he (Zaur Stugr) clutched tightly at the key in his palm.

This confirmed Nevetsecnuac's hypothesis.  “No doubt about it, that singular skeleton had been someone of great significance to Zaur. Likely,” throwing Zaur a cursory glance Nevetsecnuac ventured a guess, “someone close to his person, an uncle, even a father, perhaps.  But I don't suppose you'll ever confide in the scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald, will you Minister Zaur Stugr?”

Smiling tightly, Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) reached for his cup to relieve his parched throat. As he raised the drink to his lips his thoughts drifted off to those wretched skeletal remains and the curious circumstances under which he had gained possession of the key.

He recalled most vividly how, there in the pit, were scattered about the tell-tale signs of a lengthy interrogation, torture, and murder of the solitary man.  The stains on the broken shards of porcelain indicated that the captives had been fed a rich diet for a time.  The lack of any trace of cloth and personal items other than the key disclosed the fact that they had been imprisoned in their nakedness, no doubt to further conceal their identities, even from posterity.  This fact reinforced their social prominence.  Finally, there had been the revelation of the ultimate treachery, the corroded bronze jug which, upon Nevetsecnuac's closer scrutiny, had revealed that it had once contained wine tainted with that particularly abhorrent poison that paralyzed its unfortunate victim and brought about a lingering and most agonizing death.

 Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon had indeed taught Nevetsecnuac well, his well-rounded education had covered every conceivable kind of potion and poison known to man.  The symptoms of this specific toxin, Nevetsecnuac knew, would only manifest themselves two days after ingesting it, by which time it would be too late for any antidote, any salvation from its curse.

 Evidently the large group of prisoners had been fed false hopes all along, right up to the time of their inevitable tragic demise.  There was no question that the clustered group had been spared from the tortures inflicted on the solitary one and that he had borne the brunt of their vicious barbarism.  The one with the key had died of his injuries and there had been no discoloration in his bones like that which, in the others, plainly told of death by ingested poison.

The aromatic, semi-sweet wine poured over Nevetsecnuac's tongue, nestled for a time in the hollow of his cheek before it glided smoothly down his throat.  As he savored the floral aftertaste, particularly pleasing to the senses, he considered how a multitude of ills could be concealed in a wine such as this.  Feeling rather flushed, he absentmindedly touched his cheek and forehead with the back of his hand and then looked away once more.

 What had necessitated these slow, painful deaths and the added mutilation of the one who held the key?  Both his legs had been sharply severed at the ankles, as if with an ax, and his kneecaps had been brutally scythed.  His ribcage had been shattered in several sections, and the bones of his hands had been maliciously crushed.  Curiously enough, though, the clasped jawbone had been left intact, as if his captors had allowed him the power of speech, which he had adamantly refused, to the bitter end.  

Nevetsecnuac solemnly (somberly) mused, “Wasn't it strange, then, that it was only when I had considered the vague notion, if only the dead could speak, that the clenched jaw had quite amazingly (unfastened and) released this very key into my palm?  And again, this very evening fate intervening (interfering), this very key should drop onto the terrazzo (tiles)?”

 

(END OF SECTION 7)

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE CAPITAL CHANNING - SECTION 6

 

 It was announced throughout the Capital the next morning that the curfew that had been imposed on the citizens for several days had been finally lifted.  This unexpected news discernibly placed everyone in a good mood. 

Resigned as Fradel Rurik Korvald (Nevetsecnuac) was to be receiving the expected callers, nothing could have prepared him for the greatest influx (incursion) of guests, consequently, the public relations challenge/nightmare that was thrust upon him. He was suddenly cast amid the demanding posh (high-born) society’s elite with their unprecedented rigid rules and regulations, frivolous propriety (decorum) and antiquated (obsolete, archaic) protocols (etiquette), compelling him to juggle (manage) these with his academic onuses (obligations, responsibilities), all of it within the tiresome, whirlwind dance of aristocratic revelry. 

Zakhertan Yozdek had abolished the examination system around the time of the first of the intellectual purges.  Nepotism aside, for those seeking a new or better post in the government yet lacking in military prowess, social contacts have become an all-important, crucial (key, vital) source.  Their prospects were now perpetually reliant (dependent) on the personal recommendations from those officials who had already acquired power and distinction and were willing to tie their own futures to that of the candidates whom they recommended.

Deeming the esteemed scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald’s arrival as a good presage (omen, potent), the elite of Channing in their ostentatious carriages and litters, had descended in droves (multitudes) upon Zaur Stugr 's residence, all bearing rich and lavish gifts for the host and his guest, all same time hoping to satiate their curiosity about this promising, once elusive scholar.

As large as Minister of Ceremony Zaur Stugr’s residence was, its path was worn thin by this onslaught of sycophants.  Finally, Minister Zaur sought out the Prime Minister for his permission, consulted with Fradel Rurik Korvald then, taking matters into his own hands, graciously postponed all but the most important appointments until after Fradel Rurik Korvald’s audience with the Sovereign.

As this was most agreeable to many of the prudent nobility, (those wanting to see first, how the scholar would rank in favor with His Royal Highness Zakhertan Yozdek), the request was adopted without any qualm.

Fradel Rurik Korvald (Nevetsecnuac) thus was spared from any more torment, from those slick-toured officials and nobles, who with their smiling faces and black hearts hid their ulterior motives poorly behind the facade of congeniality.

 In fact, every loaded word they sputtered, every covert gesture they made, every seemingly innocent remark with which they hoped to embroil scholars in their dark intrigues had taken their toll and had ground down Fradel’s (Nevetsecnuac’s) spirit despite his outward show of vigor (enthusiasm) and resilience.

This welcome respite had come none too soon, for it was followed the next morning at daybreak by an invitation from the Prime Minister requesting Fradel Rurik Korvald’s illustrious presence at an exclusive, nevertheless, an elaborate party to be given in his honor in nine days’ time.

                                                                             ~

 

 In the subsequent days, Minister of Ceremony Zaur Stugr proved to be a most attentive, congenial host, anticipating, and fulfilling with uncanny precision, his guest's every perceived desire and whim.

 Swayed somewhat by this solicitude, Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) found himself amending some of his first impressions of the junior Minister.  Only seven years Nevetsecnuac's senior, Zaur Stugr seemed overall to be a mild mannered, articulate and most obliging person.  Looking much younger than his age, fair in complexion, he sported only a thin mustache, and tapered beard.  Tall, thin, and strikingly handsome, with striking blue eyes, he did not need the extra adornments his peers affected to accentuate his winning features.  His lush, over the shoulder straight, raven (jet black) hair was always glistening clean and only sometimes was bound behind his neck by a simple leather band.  In contrast to his striking physique, however, he was moderate in his manners and speech and bore none of the pretentious airs associated with his office.  On numerous occasions Nevetsecnuac (Fradel Rurik Korvald) observed that this amiable persona allowed Zaur to place whomever he interacted with, regardless of their position, wealth, or power, at their ease.  Without them being aware of it, he was able to manipulate them into opening and laying bare even the most secretive thoughts that lay in the deep recesses of their hearts then sent them away contented with even more confidence and trust in this remarkable Junior Minister.

03- ZAUR STUGR   JP 20

When Zaur Stugr turned this charm on Fradel Rurik Korvald, it took most of Nevetsecnuac's discernment and perception to avoid being swept away by the tide of affable good will that Zaur Stugr bountifully projected.  Despite his reserve, Nevetsecnuac had gradually grown quite fond of the Junior Minister and his winning ways.  Yearning for the close bonds of companionship, Zaur Stugr seemed to be the most likely candidate on which to lay his trust and friendship, yet Nevetsecnuac held back, restrained by the stronger sensibility that had guided him ever since he had first encountered Zunrogo and the people from the Capital.

 Even though there was a complete absence of proof, there was this anomalous, nagging feeling that his charming host Zaur was leading a double life, one entirely different in character from the persona he projected every day.  This sense of duality insisted on caution, if not slight distrust, particularly when dealing with affable Minister Zaur Stugr.

 At any rate after all Nevetsecnuac had seen, heard, and lived through during these past months, the innocence and trust that had once been second nature to him had been supplanted, lost forever.  At present Nevetsecnuac's guard was perpetually up, leaving no room for the spark of familiarity or friendship to develop.

Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) was bit sad that, he frequently (habitually) now, felt prematurely aged (rather old) and hardened to the core.

As happened, this dilemma eventually resolved itself when his pessimistic apprehension was given further credibility by the successive events; however, as nothing much out of the ordinary or spectacular happened, this will not warrant any elaboration.

                                                                               ~

 On the seventh day Fradel Rurik Korvald (Nevetsecnuac) had spent the better part of the afternoon sightseeing few historic sites that the Capital Channing was famed for then afterward, both host and guest had enjoyed a sumptuous feast at the house of one of Zaur Stugr’s colleagues.

On their return to the Junior Minister's residence both felt reluctant to retire for the night and forgo the enjoyment of full moon; despite the lateness of the hour hence, they mutually decided to resume their conversation where they had left it in the Quiet Waters Pavilion, by the eastern end of the artificial (man-made) lake, that also had alongside it, a delightful, swimming pool where if they wished they could take a cool dip in private. 

The pleasant company, delightful warm breeze buffeting their sleeves, caressing their faces, and the fullness of the moon casting brilliant (rippled) reflection on the water all, had put Zaur in such a good mood that he had, without reservation, downed several more cups of wine, far exceeding his tolerance level.

Fradel (Nevetsecnuac), on the contrary, careful managing his intake of drink had of course emptied his cup discreetly, whenever he could, onto the ground. During the night as they partook (participated) in consuming still more variety of choice, vintage vines, Nevetsecnuac seizing an apt opportunity, subtly steered the conversation around to the subject of Kontu in the hope of extracting from the Minister Zaur Stugr, more indebt version and true accounts (pertaining to) concerning Sovereign Murong Di.

Zaur’s inhibitions by then having gradually eased (melted away) he, with his virtuoso narration, his gifted elaborations, and an uncanny knowledge of the smallest details, so competently (dazzlingly) painted such vivid pictures for Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) that, it made him feel as though he personally was in Kontu, hearing and experiencing it all firsthand. And so, that night listening to Zaur Stugr’s account, Nevetsecnuac came to learn all about (even filling in the blanks, the missing facts, when Nevetsecnuac had first learned about Kontu from Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon back at the mountain cabin,) how Hedenko had artfully risen in prominence and power while still purportedly a vassal, commanding the army of Sovereign Murong Di of Kontu. 

Nevetsecnuac could well understand Minister Zaur Stugr’s fascination of these historical facts for the whole thing unfolded more like a military textbook with, do and don’ts.

Despite the growing threat from Hedenko, King Murong Di had unwisely given precedence to the prevailing danger from the state of Icone instead.

 In his royal arrogance he had foolishly turned a deaf ear to the counsel of his able ministers that Hedenko should be summoned to court immediately, by force, if necessary, to give good and true account of his rebellious activities.  Unfortunately, by the time the King had awakened to the true danger that existed to his rule, internal strife, and corruption within his court itself had curtailed his ability to deal with Hedenko at all and had sealed his fate once and for all.  When his only other recourse, assassination, proved ineffective within the tight military control of Lord Deng Hedenko's lands, King Murong Di resorted to a ruse.  Extending his edict of general amnesty to include Hedenko, he let it be known that it was his Royal wish that they end the strained relationship between them.

 At the same time Sovereign Murong Di made the most generous proposal of marriage between Princess Teuquob and the Lord, knowing that Hedenko would not be able to resist the temptation to acquire the most enchanting beauty in the entire Kingdom.

Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) had previously speculated that the Sovereign Murong Di's offer had been solely for the purpose of luring Lord Hedenko to the Royal Court to procure the rebel's demise.  Zaur Stugr had reaffirmed this proposition when he outlined the King's plans to have Hedenko apprehended, charged with treason, and promptly executed once he left the safety of his fortified lair to fetch his bride and attend the matrimonial festivities.

"It’s an ingenious, but nevertheless effective stratagem." Zaur Stugr concurred in good humor.

"Unaware of the sinister plan lurking in the mind of the Monarch Murong Di, the Prime Minister at that time, Neru, had for some time attempted in vain to deter the King from such a move.  He recalled to his Sovereign, Hedenko's ruthless exploits, his lack of filial piety and his brutality towards women.  He had even grimly foretold, at the risk of incurring royal disfavor, that the Lord's ambition would not be satiated that easily and that Hedenko would not rest until he had seized total power and usurped the throne for himself.  This marriage would only whet (sharpen, hone) his appetite and lead to much graver consequences.”

Monarch Murong Di, grimacing coldly, had once more not heeded the sound advice and furthermore, had concealed his true aim for fear of spies in court. 

“That, in itself, his inability to trust anyone, was a prime cause of the King's subsequent downfall."  Zaur Stugr nodded thoughtfully.

05- HEDENKO 9JP

“Hedenko, his mind equally treacherous, had accepted this proposal without reserve not so much because of the tempting bait, but because it helped him advance his own sinister plan.  The Lord's aim paralleled Sovereign Murong Di's, it seemed.  To further disarm the Monarch, he even swore to surrender all his forces and land holdings to the King the moment he was made his son-in-law, giving substance to the rumors that he had planted, that Hedenko wanted most of all to prove his loyalty to Murong and assume his former position as the King's most loyal vassal.   He set his supporters to work to reinforce this pretense in the ear of the Monarch Murong Di with similar reports supposedly from various sources.”

"This marriage proposal", Deng Hedenko had ostensibly, duly professed upon receipt, "had been a great honor and had overwhelmed him."

“Touched by the wisdom, the insight and benevolence of the Sovereign, more specifically Murong's show of good faith, Hedenko had supposedly paced up and down “in a shrine before the Gods of his ancestors and sworn an oath of allegiance to live up to his Highness' expectations.  He'd vowed also to first disprove then permanently silence the slanderers of his good name.”

“Now,” Zaur chuckled. “This covert warning sent shock waves of fear among the opposition. (In the many days that ensued) Subsequently, many had tried to amend their mistakes, others had gone hiding and still others had taken flight under various pretexts, never to be heard from again.  Meanwhile, more hateful than ever of Monarch Murong, Hedenko had initiated his long-term plans and immediately began implementing his designs on the throne.  After all, he had just been handed a perfect opportunity on a silver platter.”

“Having received this go-ahead signal, his ardent supporters, courtiers, and military generals alike, underhandedly but aggressively began their campaign of support in the Capital, the last seat of power for Murong, attempting to drum up favorable support for Hedenko and paving the way for a total capitulation, or at least for an assured success with the least resistance from those unyielding loyalist Lords too powerful as yet to be quickly extinguished. “

“The plan was for Hedenko to make his entry into the Capital with his elite force of assassins disguised as servants bringing along the bride price, this in addition to the small number of guards accompanying him.  During the festivities Hedenko would personally seize Murong and assassinate him on the spot.  The Lord already had a dagger concealed in the hall where the ceremony was to take place, planted by one of his spies at Court.  After his consolidation of power throughout the land he would pass judgment on the only surviving member of the Royal Family, Princess Teuquob.  If she proved worthy of further attention, then she would be made his new wife.  Since, however, Hedenko believed in a clean sweep and no mercy, a policy he had adopted after every victory, it was clear that, following the birth of a son or two, depending on his whim, and then she would be made to forfeit her life as well.”

"But things took on a bizarre, rather unexpected turn." Zaur Stugr exhaled deeply with heightened zeal, "The Princess who was to be wed took flight just two weeks before all this was to happen and unfortunately perished in a storm at sea.  Of course, another (a distant royal cousin of marriable age) was quickly offered in her stead.  Hedenko, appearing most agreeable, went through with this wedding and, naturally, with his planned usurpation of the throne.  And at present, he has been the omnipotent ruler of Kontu for more than a decade."  Falling silent, Zaur reached to fill his cup.

06-NEVETSECNUAC  JP 19

Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) looked up thoughtfully for the first time and was about to inquire how Zaur Stugr was so exceptionally well informed about the internal politics of the Kontu Royal Court, when Zaur, surmising his question, held up his hand, then with some modesty exclaimed. "Perhaps I have neglected to inform you that I am an ardent student of political history.  Since childhood I have been intrigued by the process of how Kingdoms rose and fell.  In fact, I think it’s a curiosity I've inherited."  He threw Nevetsecnuac a whimsical smile.

“He's withholding something pertinent.”  Nevetsecnuac studied Zie with an impassive silence.

"I regret that I have not had the opportunity to show you my extensive library on this subject but, if you like, we could visit it tomorrow.  It is mainly taken up with documents bearing historical accounts, original writs or copied replicas painstakingly compiled since the time of my grandfather.  I cannot take the credit for my own small contributions."  He pensively drank few more sips of wine.  "It escaped the destruction of the purges simply because the papers are totally unrelated to the history of Wenjenkun.”

“Those accounts you will not find it here or anywhere for that matter, unless you want to view the government archives which house the official, Imperial- sanctioned versions."  There was a hint of disdain in Zaur’s tone as he mumbled this last sentence as he pursed his lips and looked over the pond.

 

Nevetsecnuac discounted this pseudo frank disclaimer which he believed it to be, not entirely the truth and, he deliberately ignored the tiny hint of rebellious discontent in Zaur ‘tone, not wishing to take the bait.  What’s more, he strongly suspected this very resourceful Minister to be in possession of some forbidden material, well-hidden for posterity, if not here, then somewhere within the Minister’s reach.

Fradel’s lack of reaction, meanwhile, had disappointed Zaur Stugr.  Never had he failed in gaining a valuable insight or drawing out pertinent information from the intended recipient (addressee), by his seemingly casual remarks (word) or contacts; yet after seven days Fradel Rurik Korvald was still an absolute mystery to him; the scholar's intrinsic ideas had eluded all scrutiny, remaining as elusive as ever. He could only glean some abstract notions of what Fradel thought and, all Zaur had instead, was a moderate number of unusable impressions. 

Even now Zaur Stugr was not certain whether Fradel was genuinely interested in the history of Kontu or had been listening out of mere politeness. He threw a sidelong glance at his guest.  “How can I reach you?  How can I penetrate that invisible wall you've encased yourself in and tap those inner realms of your thoughts?” He mused sardonically.  “You're unlike anyone I've met, and you are certainly not like any other scholar.  There's no trace of the arrogance and frivolity of the usual unscrupulous literati about you.  Your brilliant mind is the only thing about you that I can be certain of.”

 

                                                                                             ~

 

Wiping the frown from his thoughts before it manifested (became apparent) on his face, Zaur Stugr reached for some morsels and, as he ate in thoughtful silence, he sized up Fradel Rurik Korvald from the corner of his eye.  Suddenly, unconsciously he chuckled.  “Surely, even you are not immune to lust.  No man is.  I simply haven't found the right lure (bait) to entice you with. Hmm, perhaps someone, like the fabled Princess Teuquob, if only she was still alive.”

 Meeting Nevetsecnuac's questioning gaze, he spoke in a soft, almost longing (pining) voice, "As I understand it, and this has been thoroughly verified by all, Princess Teuquob was a rare beauty."  He hesitated.

“Hmm… It would not do to reveal too much, the scope of his influence with the foreign spies and the local underground, no matter how harmless this Fradel Rurik Korvald seemed.”

“My wife is right; of late, I've been indulging in spirits far too much.” He silently admonished himself. 

“I can't afford this failing to get the better of me, not with what's at stake.”  He curtailed his speech and determined to take it easy on the wine yet, for a brief spell his disobedient mind had wandered and, he remembered how he had secretly commissioned his spies in Kontu to secure a portrait of the Princess Teuquob, filled with details taken from all the accounts of those who had known her and still lived.

It had taken great lengths to obtain it, just to satisfy his curiosity.  Expectedly, he had been delighted by the outcome. 

“As a matter of fact,” he reflected,” that had been my only eccentric act of late, until this one.”  

The predictability of his daily routine as a Minister of Ceremony had suffocated him somewhat so he had rushed to the chance to play host to the illustrious Fradel Rurik Korvald when the Prime Minister had brought up the subject of the scholar's lodging.

"I've been told this, of course, through the flattering descriptions of Princess Teuquob in the letters of the time." he quickly corrected himself.

"They describe Princess Teuquob as legendary in her beauty, with none, neither in Kontu nor in Wenjenkun able to equal her in charm or grace.  She would have been a worthy consort for any man, even our Emperor Zakhertan Yozdek."

 Listening to his own intonations, Zaur knew that he had betrayed that desire that had lain in his heart ever since he had viewed that portrait.  The beauties of Channing had paled horribly in comparison, and he had felt cheated somewhat.  After mumbling apologies at his indiscretion, he offered a lame excuse for it all and steered the topic of the conversation onto safer, more superficial concerns.  Subsequently he had played the fool, the antagonist, the diffident boor, the sincere friend, the provocative sophist and once more the wanton womanizer yet; Fradel Rurik Korvald had not taken any of the bait and had remained obstinately as elusive as ever.  He would have to try yet another (peculiar means) atypical angle to draw out Fradel Rurik Korvald.

Meanwhile, Nevetsecnuac had suppressed with remarkable iron will, his intense displeasure and extreme annoyance, rather rage at Zaur's tiresome deceits, his obvious, long-term infatuation and lust for Teuquob, his beloved wife.

 Nevetsecnuac fighting the urge to lash out at Zaur, distractedly at this point, had bent to retrieve a happily chirping cicada by his feet; just then however, quite unexpectedly the long-forgotten key that was kept in the inner pocket of this specific garment, fell to on the terrazzo (tiled flooring) with a loud thud.  Its same time had let off an unusual, curious glint as it caught the juxtaposed reflections of the brilliant moonlight and soft lamplight on its surface. 

Nevetsecnuac abandoned the cicada and quickly reached instead to retrieve the key, as the same time noted with curiosity, from the corner of his eye, Zaur’s fleeting reaction of shock and horror that was quickly replaced by an unemotional mask.

 

“He knows something”

 

 

(END OF SECTION 6)

                                                                                        ~ 

 

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE CAPITAL CHANNING - SECTION 1

 

The highway they traveled on from the port of Hanbrak teemed with increasingly denser traffic as they neared the walled Capital, Channing.  Soon they saw it: the monumental, awesome structure with its intermittent towers piercing the heavens, attesting to the skill and greatness of Wenjenkun. It needed no explanation as to why and how these virtually indestructible defenses had withstood centuries of offensives.  The outer wall, as Fradel Rurik Korvald (Nevetsecnuac) had been briefed, and could now bear witness to, had nine massive bronze gates while the inner wall had six.

A hundred bells tolled (pealed resonated, boomed, rang), as they neared the famous Kigo Bridge, greeting their ears with musical harmony; bells chimed at their regular intervals to mark the time of day from their location in the central square, where all streets within the city inevitably converged.

Two main arteries to Channing throbbed with fretful vitality when nearing dusk, Nevetsecnuac, Zunrogo and Tizan had merged with the hastening crowd, most anxious to cross one of the two bridges that led into the inner core of the city through the Zier Gate.  A short while later and the massive, bronze gates would be closed (barring) banning any entry until sunrise; three hours later a curfew would be imposed until sunrise.  If they failed in their objective, as violators, they would be subjected to, without exception, the most extreme penalty of slow, torturous death.  Fortunately for their party, the Lieutenant in charge of Zier Gate was on friendly terms with Zunrogo and spared them the grueling scrutiny the others were subjected to.

 

01-lLIEUTENANT IN CHARGE OF ZIER GATE

"Their papers are all in order, let them pass."  His resounding (loud, booming) order rippled through the ranks of guards and gave Captain Zunrogo and co. prompt easy access through the set of barricades which had been put in place since the last time Zunrogo had been to the Capital.  Declining the offer of a state carriage, they remained mounted on their horses as they joined in the swift, steady stream of traffic that flowed through the streets to their destination.

Channing, now the den of jackals, wolves, and tigers, more than sixteen miles in diameter and 62 miles around, this crowning jewel of the nation boasted in its middle city several dozen large, well-maintained streets and several hundred small alleys, which perpetually be thronged with people and rich carriages.

At the central core (of Channing), perpetuating the strength and enlightenment of Wenjenkun, stood the Military Academy, the Civil Universities, a multitude of monasteries and temples with turquoise tiles and crimson roofs.  Most had been constructed during the previous rule of the benevolent Zuronghan Alric Therran Valamir and now, after a lengthy closure and violent purges, they had modified their ideologies sufficiently enough to be considered fit for reinstatement by the present regime, with of course, limited potency (might and influence), of their former years of glory.

 The glistening green artery of the Yawjun River flowed through the center of the city, measuring five miles from bank to bank at its widest.  Picturesque vessels of all sizes and designs in an ongoing, steady stream contested with all their speed for the much coveted and privileged dock space.

Even at this quick pace, Nevetsecnuac's eyes feasted on the festooned splendors of the magnificent Inner City.  Shops were laden with the rafters with exotic merchandise.  Imposing, many storied buildings of all shapes lined the main thoroughfare and beyond.  Gilded and brightly lit pavilions in elaborate architectural styles, bustling Pleasure Houses adorned with Heavenly Beauties beckoned the distinguished guests to their bosoms and a multitude of well-established tea houses catered to a discerning and demanding clientele.  Cultural institutions throbbed with the discussions of the arrogant elite.

A pervasive picture of opulence and a thriving economy could easily have overwhelmed any newcomer to the city, enticing him into abandoning all reserve; all moral principles save for those the city itself dictated and are forever enslaved in this irresistible, gilded cage.

Everything here was most assuredly divorced from the harsh daily realities the rest of the country endured.  Indeed, as the authorities had planned (intended), this artificial world encapsulating the visitor would leave no doubt in his mind about the opulent strength of the economy and he would continue being duped, convinced that if Channing was at the zenith of its power and wealth then the remainder of Wenjenkun also enjoyed the same conditions.

 

02- NEVETSECNUAC IN CAPITAL (4)JP

Fradel Rurik Korvald (Nevetsecnuac), having travelled (ridden) the far corners of the Empire, knew the difference and shook his head in disdain and disbelief.  How the rest of the populace suffered intolerable conditions, endured terrible ordeals in-order-to furnish Channing with this excessive abundance!

 Fradel Rurik Korvald ‘s (Nevetsecnuac’s) face became increasingly grim as another level (layer) of this reality crept in.  On the surface this well-mannered bustling populace, with their rich silk brocade robes, their neatly trimmed and decorated head and facial hair, their fine carriages restricted to one side of the road and their lips frozen in mechanical smiles, presented the very picture of contentment and tranquility.

Yet Fradel’s keen senses penetrated this impressive facade, alerting him to the reality that this unnatural, perfectly regimented order laid atop an unseen, eerie atmosphere of fear and oppression that lurked just barely beneath the surface.

Suddenly a shrill whistling pierced the clamor.  Instantly the crowd mechanically peeled into two streams, drew close to the buildings, and halted abruptly. 

On Zunrogo’s sharp command, Tizan and the Scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald dismounted at once and joined the rest at the side of the road.

Within seconds the thundering hooves were upon them.  A wave of fear rippled through the comatose citizens as they lowered their heads, turned away or cast their eyes to the ground.  Only scholar Fradel’s (Nevetsecnuac's) eyes were defiantly lifted to see the charging contingent pass at a gallop, led by a fearsome warrior on a magnificent white stallion.  In the brief instant when their eyes met, the warrior's cold, cruel, predatory gaze pierced through Nevetsecnuac's unflinching stare to the core of his being.

 

03- EGIL VIGGORIES 5 -JP

 A disturbing thought at that point in time had barely formed in his consciousness, “He looks so much like a young… No!  That's not possible!”  Nevetsecnuac shook his head to dismiss this deplorable speculation as his eyes trailed the receding horsemen.

 

"He's on a hunt!" Tizan's icy contempt snapped Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) out of his daze, and he turned his sharp, questioning eyes to the Lieutenant.  Tizan had uttered these indiscriminate words seemingly without fear or, at least, care.

 Boldly, too boldly in fact, he continued, "That Imperial edict he's carrying can only mean…” His words were frozen on his tongue by a stern look from Zunrogo.  Stymied, he grumbled under his breath then bared his teeth in a savage grimace to cast a threatening look around him.  This implicit threat was enough to scatter those few pedestrians that had lingered briefly on the spot to silently admonish Tizan for this apparent foolishness.

 "A flock of sheep, all of you," Tizan snorted contemptuously and swung into the saddle in one swift leap.

Zunrogo turned to Fradel Rurik Korvald (Nevetsecnuac) and grimaced wryly, anticipating the question.  "Now you've seen His Excellency Egil Viggoaries, remember him.  You would do well to be wary of him; better still, if possible, avoid any contact (interaction) or confrontation with his excellency."  With a sardonic smile, thinking, “he delights most in feasting on virtuous, attractive (, striking, handsome, desirable) insects like you”, he mounted his horse and spurred the beast on ahead.

 

The road they were on eventually converged with the others at the central square.  As they passed the gibbet in the center, Nevetsecnuac's eyes were riveted to the wretched corpse hanging headless from a pole that jutted from the raised platform.  At the side a crimson plaque was erected, stating in white letters the name and crime of the offender.  Around the corpse, in a bizarrely grotesque dance, a small crowd was endlessly circling, spitting, jabbing, and poking at the body in an almost orchestrated manner.  Occasionally one would furtively glance about, as if this performance was undertaken to assert his loyalty for the benefit of hidden, spying eyes.

At first glance the head of the corpse seemed to have been savagely; brutally bitten off but on closer scrutiny, Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) noted that it had, in fact, disintegrated at the neck as if some corrosive substance had eaten through the flesh and bone.  The rest of the corpse’s torso had been charred over three quarters of its surface and the part below the waist was slowly being mutilated, beyond human recognition, by the crowd.

Suddenly a shiver rippled through Fradel Rurik Korvald’s (Nevetsecnuac’s) chest as his eyes were riveted to a single lock of bloodied, shriveled red hair on the nape.

“It’s inconceivable.  Had this been his fate?  Had he… No!  He could not have been so easily overcome, not him.”  With an effort of will Nevetsecnuac dispelled the traces of suspicion that lurked in the depths of his heart before they took root, supplanting it with strong, unequivocal denial.

 A moment later, the gnawing feeling re-emerged in the pit of his stomach, “Could it be that this Dwengzur was that competent?”  His eyes were still glued to the corpse, Nevetsecnuac involuntarily tugged at the reins, causing the beast he was riding to rear abruptly.

Zunrogo looked dubiously at Fradel Rurik Korvald (Nevetsecnuac) but said nothing, but Tizan could not let the opportunity to goad the scholar slip by.

"A friend of yours?" he asked coldly as he pulled up alongside Fradel’s horse.

Ignoring this needling, Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) turned to read the notice.

Midway to, it stated that this assassin was an enemy of the state who had come to Wenjenkun as an emissary from Kontu… Kontu, not Korion!  Nevetsecnuac breathed a deep sigh of relief but then quite unbidden; other’s cryptic words came to mind,

"Even if I fail, I shall not fail." 

Nevetsecnuac’s (Fradel’s) heart once more became laden with the same doubts, the same suppositions until, biting his lip, he resolved to, at the first opportunity, make discrete inquiries and resolve this puzzle, one way or another.

 

04- ZUNROGO TUGO - JP 21 B

Zunrogo had reined in his horse and, inclining his head as if to check the bridle, observed scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald ‘s (Nevetsecnuac's) quandary from the corner of his eye.  Since Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) had made no attempt to hide his concern, Zunrogo disdainfully scoffed and wheeled his horse about.  The scholar's mood had always perplexed him, but other concerns now preyed more heavily on his mind.  He let the matter drop, making no attempt whatsoever to straighten Tizan out. 

 

“Besides,” he told himself, “It won't be long now before I'm relieved of this annoying obligation.”

As it were, from the moment Zunrogo relinquished the care of the scholar to another, Fradel Rurik Korvald (Nevetsecnuac) would cease to exist for him.  With his farsightedness Zunrogo had already surmised that there would be little advantage in ingratiating himself with the illustrious Fradel.  In fact, he speculated that the scholar's immanent downfall would come in the not-too-distant future.  Already the fashionable trend of the day towards the literati was starting to shift in the direction for, it’s inevitable decline.

Tizan, meanwhile, had erroneously attributed Fradel’s (Nevetsecnuac's) mood to weakness, assuming that the scholar's delicate constitution had obviously been ruffled, shaken to the core by the gruesome realities of life.  Not bothering to conceal his scornful contempt, he had steered his mount alongside Fradel’s (Nevetsecnuac's), mumbling jibes (taunts), as they both caught up to Zunrogo then, proceeded to blend in (merge with) the other stream of traffic that led to an alternate road away from the square.

Tizan grimaced maliciously as he threw sidelong glances, knowing that Fradel Rurik Korvald (Nevetsecnuac) would be witnessing far worse sights in the days to come.  “Either you will grow accustomed to these common sights, or you’ll fall gravely ill and, perhaps, die.”  Tizan contemptuously laughed.

 

05--TZAN JP

“That’s right, Channing will either toughen you up or devour you whole, smarty-pants.”  Even as he thought this, Tizan knew what the outcome would be.  “Ha!  Go back while you can, pathetic fool.  Your fine looks, your honeyed, intellectual jargon will not win you any merit (credence or weight) here.  They will not keep you from harm; sooner or later you will succumb to the dangers and perish as all your kind should.  If you had any lick of sense, you would feign sudden illness and flee, as soon and as fast, all the way back to that safe mountain retreat and bury your head in your manuscripts, for only the strongest, the shrewdest, the most cunning survive here.”

Of course, Nevetsecnuac’s ears had incessantly burned with all that unspoken hostility from Tizan; however, as it would hardly be worth his while to challenge or lecture this illiterate brute; besides which, Tizan’s presumed crude estimation being somewhat palpable (blatant) truth, Nevetsecnuac had kept his quiet.

 

Nevetsecnuac, meanwhile, had comprehended far more than he let on; he’d recognized for instance, how in Channing, competition was fierce, mercy and compassion was an unknown, unpracticed, and altogether dangerous precept.  He knew also, and could rightly attest to now, how alongside most prevalent punishments another, more sinister, harsher reality lurked. One that had been a routine policy in Channing, for well over a decade, to systematically uncover and eradicate all undesirable and imperfect elements and citizens.  Anyone who’d been deemed unpleasant to the eyes or senses of the ruling elite, had been, without mercy, hounded to extinction; scores cruelly tortured as part of night's entertainment and some driven out or eliminated entirely, by the ruthless invisible force that manned the society (populace) of Metropolis.

The rare anomaly (variance), those few less than perfect opulent residents, by dispensing bribes and staying well hidden, had subsisted through this dicey, hazardous existence (way of life) in Channing. 

 

 

                                                                                  ~

 

 

(END OF SECTION 1)