LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION 14

 

“Now, you've heard how Kuric and Ruat had a falling out a while back?"   Zhadol paused to acknowledge the confirming nod from Yennic before continuing, "It’s no secret that, since then, they have become bitter adversaries, always trying to undermine each other.”

01-KURIC AND RUAT

“Sorek’s involvement was quite incidental.  In fact, it is my contention that he was victimized by the malicious slander that started it all.  Chakon, Kuric's brother-in-law, spread it with the hope of gaining much from Sorek's downfall."

"So, it was Chakon who told-on (betrayed) him?"

"No, Chakon doesn't have much clout.  He was only the instrument.  Ruat was behind it all.  He caused Sorek's disgrace after he'd finally succeeded in landing in Kuric, in serious trouble.  I suppose he feared repercussions from Sorek and worked to render him ineffective.  As for the trouble Kuric landed in, well you know Kuric has already been arrested, charged with conspiring with Frenzo in grand larceny and has had all his property confiscated."

"Then there was some truth to that rumor but that's preposterous!  He never even knew Frenzo." Yennic objected.

"None the less, Ruat has produced enough solid, incriminating evidence to prove otherwise.  It is also my contention that this is pure fabrication but who is there to contest it and prove otherwise?  All of Kuric's associates have severed their friendships and dealings with him out of fear.  Some have even fled the Capital, anticipating the ensuing repercussions."

"But not Sorek," Yennic grunted (contradicted).

02- SOREK

"Sorek was a fool,” Zhadol scoffed.  "Still, they couldn't have touched him because of his powerful family but, instead of keeping his mouth shut and laying low for a while, he incited trouble.  Over one trivial word, that's all it took.  Egil Viggoaries's spies, once informed by Ruat, brought this to His Excellency's attention.  Sorek was kidnapped, interrupting his sleep, in the middle of the night and brought before the Black Molochs to give an account of his disrespect.  Instead of cowering before the ensuing secret tribunal and begging Egil Viggoaries's mercy, as any sensible person might do, the fool remained indignant and insisted on the falseness of the charge.  I have no doubt the report was greatly exaggerated to make it come out as it did, but still there was some grain of truth to it.  Anyhow, not only was Sorek whipped senseless, but he was also disgraced by being stripped naked to the waist and …"   Zhadol abruptly fell silent and dropped his head.

 "I have no love for Sorek, you understand," he lifted his eyes, "but I felt that this branding punishment was a bit too severe."

"Is that why you refused to take part in, hmm, “Riding the Colt”, at the informal gathering in wee hours that night in His Excellency’s residence?" Yennic eagerly asked.

"I thought you said you didn't know anything about it?"

"I ran into the physician Coj, who attended on Sorek the next day." Yennic confessed.

"He's an old friend of my father's and I was under his good care when I'd contracted that serious childhood disease, Lurox Sores. Seeing his distraught state, I treated him to some wine, and, in his intoxicated state, he finally opened up to me a little.”

“But that muddle-headed fool Coj was too incoherent with his accounts (facts) to be of much use. Truly, I remained ignorant of the precise details that led up to the punishment till; I'd pieced it all together while I listened to you, just now."

“A likely story,” Nevetsecnuac smiled broadly.

Zhadol, appeared totally taken in (convinced) for, typically, he was blinded by his affection where Yennic was concerned.

"Your mind works quickly." Zhadol complimented.

"Thank you.” Yennic was pleased. “Yet Sorek is from one of the most powerful, old-established families, and their influence has grown further since Her Ladyship, recently the most favorite of His Highness Zakhertan Yozdek, awarded them her patronage.  Surely if anyone could have brought formal charges against His Excellency Egil Viggoaries before His Highness, they could.  Why is it then that Sorek's father chose to cover up this incident?"

"They knew it was useless.  Don't you understand?"   Zhadol looked intently at the Lieutenant.

"Yes," Yennic nodded, comprehending. "It would have been rather pointless for them to pursue the matter.  If it ever did become public knowledge the family would have suffered far worse from the loss of face.  That is why the whole matter was hushed up, swept under the carpet, so to speak, so expeditiously."

"Egil Viggoaries, knowing their weakness, dared to act as he did, choosing the perfect humiliation for one of Sorek's breeding.  In this instance, political power had very little to do with it,” Zhadol summarized.

Yennic knitted his brows, "Yet Sorek's uncle, Chancellor Derez, is known to be a dogged, vindictive man.  How did they manage to keep him out of this?"

03-CHANCELLOR DEREZ

"He's been too wrapped up in his own questionable dealings of late to pay too much attention to family matters.  That extortionist,” Zhadol snorted. "He's the worst of the lot, but he enjoys the protection of you-know-who and no one may speak ill of him or dare to expose his dirty dealings.  You know of the recent case of the Kyu murder?"

Yennic was aghast.  "He wasn't involved in that, was he?"

"Involved," Zhadol sneered.  "He engineered the whole thing."

"You have proof of your allegations?"

"Yes, but I dare not breathe a word of it to anyone other than you.  Anyhow, it’s all been covered up and two other innocent parties have been made to pay for the crime."

"You don't mean that Jekon and Mayoz Dur were innocent, after all," Yennic gasped.

04-JEKON

05-MAYOZ DUR

"Yes, they were.  I found out who had really carried out that gruesome deed."

"But those two confessed to doing it." Yennic insisted in disbelief.

"You, too, would have confessed to anything if you were subjected to the same kind of tortures they had been." Zhadol grimaced.

"They were publicly hanged!  Their families wiped out!" Yennic mumbled grimly, finding it hard to swallow this travesty of injustice.  The revelation had hit him particularly hard.  He recalled being an eyewitness to the executions and, like so many others, feeling a sense of vindication, that is, until now.

 Zhadol was perplexed by Yennic's strange demeanor and noted the strain, his grave expression which Yannic had failed to mask.  He was about to ask why Yennic took this news so hard when he was cut off.

"you’ve said you knew who the real assassins were…tell me before I burst; who were those darn cut-throats?" Yennic hotly demanded.

"Why, by the Heavens, are you getting all worked up for?  It’s all over and done with.  There isn't much that you, or anyone, can do now. Besides, it’s best that you remain ignorant of their identities.  Otherwise, with your hot head…"   Zhadol shook his head dismally, the concern evident in his voice. "With that explosive nature of yours you'll most likely land yourself in serious trouble.  I can't go around saving your neck all the time, you know.  Even I have my limitations."

 He held up a hand to cut short Yennic's bursting response.  "Honestly; it’s best you don't know of it.  I'm finding it hard to live with it myself."  He half turned, shrugging his shoulders, and looking away dispassionately.  "Then again, what's one more heaped on the mountain of injustices?"

Typically, his wise counsel fell on deaf ears as Yennic grasped Zhadol’s arm and swung him around till they were eye to eye.  "No, I must know!  You must tell me!" Yennic implored, charged with emotion.

Stone faced, Zhadol studied Yennic with curiosity. “Why are you being so persistent?  I've never known you to have ever been this emotional about a case before.”

"Don't you see?"  Yennic suddenly dropped Zhadol’s arm then abruptly confessed, "I was made their instrument, or don't you know that?  Of course, you were away on assignment when the case came up.  I helped capture Jekon and Mayoz Dur and deliver them to their unjust end.  I was the arresting officer!"  Yennic dropped his head in remorse.  "Even though they had once done me a good turn and they professed their innocence from the start, I still took them in."  Biting the corner of his lip, he looked up to Zhadol for absolution, "How was I to know?  Could I have acted any differently?"

Clearly Yennic was tormented by guilt and Zhadol nodded in understanding.  By putting his personal feelings aside, Yennic had, as always, done his utmost to impress his Superior.  Perhaps this once should have delved deeper into the reasons for it.

 "Then this portends (augurs) even more trouble."   Zhadol shook his head, "I'm sorry, Yennic, but..."  Yennic's contemptuous look froze the words on his tongue.

"You think so little of me?" Yennic turned his head away in dejection.

"If I do tell you their names, will you promise not to stir up trouble?"   Zhadol was softening.  "Promise me you won't go after them, for to do so would result only in your own undoing.  You'll be framed for some crime, or worse found lying dead in some ditch within a month.  You're too small a fish to fry and, though they may be insignificant in the scheme of things, they have powerful backing and they're treacherous, devoid of all conscience.  That's what makes them deadly for you."

"Yes,” Yennics responded. “I’ll take that into consideration.  I promise I won't do anything foolish; now, tell me who they are and, since this matter is so delicate, tell me how you found out about it."

"How I found out is not important, but..."

Yennic grasped Zhadol’s arm, squeezing it tight.  He already surmised how Zhadol had found out; the way he always found out about everything.  "You were about to tell me their names.  Stop all this stalling and tell me.  Tell me now!"

"You're out of line, Lieutenant!"   Zhadol jerked his arm free then, despite his better judgment, relented.  "It’s none other than Zunrogo Tugo and Gaos Zunkur."

These names, of course, meant nothing to Nevetsecnuac but he saw their profound effect on Yennic who, with clenched fist, gritted his teeth under snarling lips and dropped his head.

Concern registered on Zhadol’s face and, for the third time he reminded Yennic of his promise of constraint.  In his heart he knew, of course, that Yennic would break it for the Lieutenant had many other reasons for hating Zunrogo Tugo, especially Zunrogo.

06 - ZUNROGO TUGO JP 5

This latest bit had just added to the long list of grievances Yennic harbored against the man.  Yet this seeming calm on Yennic's part particularly alarmed Zhadol.  He would rather have seen Yennic explode with his predictable, searing rage, swearing abuse, and calling for hot, sweet revenge but nothing, not even a grunt or a muttered curse passed through those lips.  The brutal glint in his eye spoke volumes, however, about the inner resentment festering within him.

“Why are you holding me responsible?”  Zhadol shot back a questioning glance.

This unnerving silence had lasted only seconds but to all three it had seemed as though a far longer period had elapsed.

"Come now, we've been away long enough."   Zhadol placed a gentle, reassuring hand on Yennic's shoulder.

"The dawn should soon be upon us.  Let us return and get some shut eye."

Yennic responded with a mute nod then sprung smartly to his feet.  Halting briefly, they relieved themselves under the very tree in which Nevetsecnuac was hiding.  The cool breeze fanned their faces and delighted their senses as they lent a casual ear to distant hooting and the flapping of wings.

 

 

(END OF SECTION 14)

                                                                                       ~

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 34

At sunrise of the subsequent day with all accounts at the Inn quickly settled, Mouro and his company (Kade Luir and Dag Diez) quietly departed.  Reaching the dirt road they then relentlessly surged forward at lightning speed leaving in their wake a trail (cloud) of dust. Mouro, with secret purpose in mind,  led his group through a different sort of paths (that snaked over a rougher terrain) than the ones he had followed the previous night; nevertheless, despite the precarious topography, they had pushed on relentlessly not stopping to eat or rest until, finally, just before dusk, they arrived at the specific stone bridge, spanning a bottomless chasm.

 There they met up with three mounted guards who had taken an alternate route. Mouro frostily nodded to the fair-haired guard in acknowledgement, a sort of greeting, ignoring the two stalwarts, heavily armed, tall guards flanking him. Mouro held in check his fury, of the two guards’ obvious failure.

01- FAIR HAIRED GUARD

No words were necessary, all dismounting at once, Mouro in the lead, they cautiously led their mount across the bridge.  As they advanced a certain (foreboding) amount of trepidation, however, filled their hearts when no one accosted them on the opposite side; instead, an eerie silence prevailed, heightening the tension of the air. With only the sound of their footsteps filling their ears, those in front cautiously pushed open the half standing iron gates to the temple and stepped across the threshold. All at once (suddenly), the stench of death assailed their noses as they were struck by the sight of countless maimed and mutilated corpses littering the courtyard, floating in pools of their own blood.

"What treachery is this?" The fair-haired guard pointed at the corpses and glared at Mouro.

"Why do you ask me?  This atrocity is clearly the work of the assassin, Zonar." Mouro sneered as he froze Diez's hand on his sword hilt with a commanding glance.  “Not yet!” It spoke. “He’ll be dealt with soon enough.”

"No, this is not Zonar's work.  These men were all murdered by a coward, one who poisoned them before mutilating their corpses.  There's no use denying it, I tracked you here last night.  Your game is up.  Call the rest of your vile dogs out of hiding."  Fradel Rurik Korvald, bristling, with fiery contempt in his eyes, rebuked Mouro.

Checking his surprise, Mouro glared for a moment at the two companion guards of Fradel, seething with burning rage for their incompetence which had now placed him in this predicament; but then in a change of heart, he pinned his wrathful gaze back on Fradel.

"How dare vermin like you call me a coward to my face?  I'll wrest your quivering liver up through your throat and make you eat it with those words." 

Mouro’s hand involuntarily clasped his sword's hilt, itching to strike Fradel down right then and there; but curiosity getting the better of him, he released his grip and, suppressing his fury, with a scathing sneer, he coldly demanded: "How long have you known?"

02- (PINNING HIS GAZE) MOURO KERR

"From the start;" came Fradel's wry response.  "I knew I was not being led to a meeting with my benefactor, Zonar.  I went along; just the same, to see how far you and your goons would be willing to go."

 Fradel, with not a shred of fear, knowingly eyed his companion guards and then cast his gaze to the high compound walls circling him that had just then become dotted with armed foes.

Fifty-nine formidable warrior guards clad in full armor, specifically picked for their competence to contest Zonar's prowess, brandishing their swords, stood their ground, in readiness for the anticipated order for the onslaught.

It quickly (dawned on) became clear to Fradel that these were the inferred agents in the previous night's conversation between Mouro and Hecun, only they were planted, not by Micen as the former had claimed, but rather by the culprit, cunning Mouro himself.  Weaving the web of treachery ever tighter they, accordingly, had spread wild rumors and suspicions about the wine to the intended victims.  But when, in turn, they were invited by Hecun to partake of some, they had most willingly guzzled it down, avoiding instead the laced water from the well to conclude the vile, treacherous deed of barbarically annihilating the incapacitated where they had fallen.

Now, the instant the armed foe had sprung into view from their hiding places, Fradel had, with lightning speed, turning their weapons against them, vanquished (bested) those formidable assassins that had accompanied him. He then with his unyielding, unflinching, solid defensive stance (posture) faced Mouro.

A momentary shudder brushed against Mouro's heart; for unarmed as he was, Fradel Rurik Korvald still looked most formidable.

 Compounding his consternation, Mouro recalled just then Fradel's unusual doggedness (grit) and fortitude (resilience) in the court.  How when he was on the brink, incensed, chained though he was, he had strained his bonds almost to the breaking point.

“A fine, heroic, picture you represent.”  Disregarding his strong premonition of doom, Mouro, nevertheless emboldened by their numbers, simply sneered.

 He threw his head back and laughed uproariously next.  "What gall!”

“Hah; Clearly your benefactor has abandoned you to fend for yourself; what makes you think that you can take us all on, (unarmed) bare handed?" he scoffed.

"I have righteousness as my armor and weapon; that is more than enough. All your evil ways will end here! “Fradel responded sternly.

"And who appointed you judge?" Mouro indignantly spat on the ground.

 "You scholars disgust me, always spouting useless, empty rhetoric! Why not just surrender to your fate, a pretty boy like you, and get down on your knees to beg for mercy?"  Dag Diez just then interjected scowling. He next threw a quick knowing smirk at Mouro.

03- DAG DIEZ

 Before Fradel could respond Mouro, highly incensed by Dag Diez's insubordination, had struck him a severe blow across the mouth with the back of his fist, knocking loose the guard's incisor teeth. The shamefaced Dag Diez, swallowing his fury, spat the teeth to the ground; next, submissively wiping the blood trickling off his chin, he grunted an insincere apology to Mouro.

Ignoring him entirely, Mouro had instead locked his burning gaze on Fradel. Seeing Fradel now in a different light, Mouro (with his hand signal) forestalled the order for the assault and fixedly (keenly) at present, scrutinized this mystifying, worthy adversary.

A scholar…  He looked more Like a...  Mouro could not rightly grasp the… thought.

Disregarding the feeling of an ominous shadow falling over his own self perceived omnipotence and coveting Fradel's noble air; with intense curiosity trampling reason, he scathingly hissed:

"So, you’d anticipated me all along, yet you willingly walked right into this ambush.  That makes you either a very courageous man or a foolhardy one.  But tell me first, since you are so smart at figuring things out, did you also guess that, to create a diversion, the humane physician Sullen Adams would be sacrificed, condemned to slow, torturous death in that iron cage in your stead?"

Mouro had pointed at the discarded, upturned (overturned) prisoner’s iron cage off to the side; but then, answered his own query (question) with a gloat, as he circled Fradel menacingly.

 "No, I see you did not.  To tell the truth I felt no real animosity at all towards Sullen personally, when I presented (offered, posed) the suggestion to Micen Do. Mouro smirked.

04- PHYSICIAN SULLEN ADAMS

“Yes, he was rather an amiable fellow, and we are kinsmen, after all but," he shrugged his shoulders dispassionately; "he brought this on himself.  He had become expendable you see.  Foolishly ignoring all good advice, he kept on preaching justice and morality to Micen and me, as if in such precarious times that it mattered, and worse still, he always stuck up for the underdog, amassing (accruing) unwarranted enmity (rancor, malice)."

Mouro pursed his lips mockingly, "He was supportive and obliging to you as well, was he not?  Well, I had to repay him for his courtesy to you, since you were indisposed.  You scholars, so righteous and honor bound, you always insist on settling all old accounts (scores).”

“Do you wish to know how I did it, how I paid him back in full on your behalf?  No need to thank me for it."  Mouro threw his head back and laughed menacingly.

 "Oh, but it was entirely, my pleasure, your honor (eminence)," then slightly inclined his head mockingly.

 "Yes, you require details…But I'll be succinct.  After his visit with you I had his tongue cut out, his face mutilated and then, bound up like a pig about to be taken to the market for slaughter, he was stuffed in there, to rot in your stead.  But then, it was a strategic (importance) imperative that he took your place and, “Mouro smirked. “Also, that you now perish here, by my hand."

Mouro, facing Fradel squarely (directly) now, brandished his sword.  "Now I will double my pleasure by doing the same to you, only worse! I'll savor your death in bits.  My sword will split you asunder like a ripe melon and leave you swimming in your own entrails."

The absence of fear or emotional reaction of any kind on the stone (wooden) face of Fradel Rurik Korvald infuriated Mouro to the point of total exasperation.

“This is truly a momentous occasion, well deserving of attribution from posterity, for within the next few minutes the overrated illustrious Fradel Rurik Korvald will cease to exist.  He will be no more!" Mouro had uttered the last sentence in resounding voice, disguised as boastful proclamation, as the specific command for the armed force that had already encircled Fradel, to stand ready for the assault (onslaught).

"The only thing you will savor will be your own end."  Fradel's retort was, at first, in an even tone. "By your own vile deeds, you have flouted Heaven's will.  The time for retribution is near at hand, yet you are too blind to see it.  Very soon, in the afterlife, you will be judged and asked to account for your abhorrent crimes against humanity.  Instead of boasting about your prowess, you should be on your knees, trembling in fear, and begging for redemption."

As he’d continued, Fradel's voice by degrees had grown in intensity, thundering across the ground to send cold shivers down Mouro's spine and make his hair stand on end.

"Enough said!"  Mouro regained his grip on himself then, on his hand signal, simultaneously with the rest of the guards, launched a deadly assault on the scholar Fradel.

Fradel repulsed them all.  Dodging and swerving to avert the many murderous, repeated blows, the strikes from swords, spears and halberds as they were thrust at him from all directions, now on the defensive, now on the offensive, in a maneuver unseen before and waylaid dozens of them in a flash.

05--FRADEL (NEVETSECNUAC)

Then in an astonishing turn he delivered a fierce, swift kick directly to Mouro's chest which hurled Mouro up into the air and, flipping him over, landed him flat on his rear end on top of the others who had fallen.  His sword flew from his hand, landing upright a few feet away.  Had Mouro not worn his armor under his civil garb, he would not have been able to get up off the ground in one piece.

  As it was, his ribs were unbroken and only his pride was hurt.

"All of you stay back!  He's mine!"

 Mouro fiercely bellowed his order as he rushed to pick up his sword from the ground.  Then he charged (on horseback) like a mad bull straight for Fradel Rurik Korvald, wielding the sword in zigzag, across and interlaced styles.

The well-armed guards, silently nursing their grievance, picked themselves up off the ground and, in compliance, joined the others to assemble into a tight, impenetrable cordon encircling the combatants.  There, with blood boiling and burning eyes pinned to Fradel Rurik Korvald, they studiously traced his every maneuver, his every move during the ensuing hours of fierce fighting.  Avidly they searched to find any weakness in Fradel's combat style, but he appeared to be invincible and continued to be just as lethal without a weapon as his opponent was when armed.

Mouro was a competent fighter in his own right, with an untarnished record of victories over many worthy opponents and famed champions.  Mouro's style of fencing, especially his waterwheel and reverse dragonfly styles, was superb; still, it soon became apparent that he was experiencing difficulty in keeping Fradel Rurik Korvald at bay, let alone in besting him.  Whirling like a devil, Mouro struck, thrust and hacked at Fradel repeatedly but all his efforts were in vain.  After ten rounds, as hungry as his blade was to taste blood, it could not effect (realize) even so much as a scratch on Fradel Rurik Korvald.  Worse still, while the scholar had maintained his strength, Mouro's effort looked to be waning.

When Mouro's blade, meeting resistance under Fradel's grip, suddenly snapped in two in the midst of the fierce fighting, Mouro quickly jumped out of the combat circle to retrieve another weapon.  Diez and the rest of the guards, anxious to display their might, seized this opening and, brandishing their weapons, were spontaneously spurred into action, launching offensive after offensive.  As they continued to engage Fradel, Mouro, having flung aside his broken ancestor sword, pried loose the good sword from the half-severed hand of Hecun then charged back in fury through the lines to join in the fray and again combat Fradel Rurik Korvald head on.

Just then on the opposite side Diez, taking advantage of the general mayhem, had ducked and swerved fiercely to get into a position to fiercely thrust his sword at Fradel's lower back.  Meeting a resistance, he received instead a serious blow to the head which then knocked him to the ground, unconscious.

06 -FRADEL (NEVETS)

 Mouro, deflecting the second blow aimed in his direction, managed to fall behind the lines of fighting men then rushed to Diez's side.

 Instead of lending him assistance, reviving him or pulling him aside, as everyone expected he might do, he instead severed Diez's head from his limp body in one swift stroke of his blade then, stepping squarely over the headless corpse, pushed on ahead through the line of combat to launch his deadly assault on Fradel Rurik Korvald anew.

 In the ferocity of the struggle, no one had stopped to make sense of this treachery except for Fradel, who readily understood in light of what he had heard of Mouro's conversation the previous night.  Mouro's precaution had made it apparent that part of the tale he concocted for Hecun was the truth.

As the Earth was mantled in darkness, beacon fires had been lit to assist the crescent moon in lighting up the dilapidated temple grounds.  Meanwhile the fierce fighting continued without pause as the battle cries filled the silence of the night, disturbing the dead.

 Despite the guards' effective armors, their superiority of arms and their joint deadly assaults, their combined tactical offensives against one unarmed man whose wounds had not yet completely healed, with all the odds seemingly against Fradel Rurik Korvald he still managed to turn the tide of destiny in his favor.

Besides effectively repulsing their ineffective assaults, unyielding in strength and resilience as he was, he seemed to be endowed with a superhuman ability, striking swiftly like the wind.  So powerful were his maneuvers, his deflections and his counter assaults that, in a whirling feat, the blades of his opposition snapped asunder at the hilts, spears got entangled and halberds became totally ineffective as his fierce blows penetrated through the armor to vanquish them all.

 All, that is, except Mouro.

Realizing the hopelessness of their situation well before the rest, Mouro, in mortal fear for his life, created a diversion and had turned tail and ran, abandoning his men in the thick of battle to their own devices of defense or, more specifically, to their own impending doom but Fradel, disposing of the rest in one sweep, had raced after Mouro.

The culprit, Mouro, having previously scouted the temple grounds, knew well which turns to take or which path to follow to avoid the many pitfalls, perilous snares and booby-traps that the years of neglect and the ravages of nature had compounded.

 Having led Fradel to a maze of underground tunnels in the interior, designed specifically by the former denizens to entrap unwanted intruders, Mouro, weaving in and out, tried his utmost, though unsuccessfully, to shake Fradel off of his trail.

“He is so formidable; just my luck to come across someone so prodigious, so entirely relentless….” Suddenly an inexplicable fear filled Mouro’s heart realizing his own measure of inadequacies, limitations, while being pursued by this invincible foe.

 What kind of Scholar was he… endowed with such incessant superhuman qualities? Or was he a Demon posing as a scholar?

                                                                                   ~

 

(END OF SECTION 34- THE CONCLUSION OF THE STATE OF THINGS)