12- LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE PORTENDED PERIL - SECTION 5

Last two or three days, Nevetsecnuac’s emotional and mental dilemma had intensified to a crescendo (climaxed), particularly as the day of summons had drawn near; fortunately for him, unspecified official concerns had kept his keenly observant and solicitous host Zaur Stugr far too busy, allowing Nevetsecnuac hence, bit respite from the tiresome, social obligations.

01- FRADEL RURIK KORVALD (NEVETSECNUAC ) 17)JP

Recalling just then the special unopened package, a keepsake tribute gift from the Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren’s offices, (a traditional/ceremonial court attire) delivered last night, Nevetsecnuac as a means of distracting his mind, summoned the Steward Cholden and asked him to bring it forth. If his conjecture were on the mark (spot on), he would then be obliged to, for propriety’s sake, don this array (garb) the day after tomorrow.

As anticipated, the (part armour) elaborate apparel fit Nevetsecnuac perfectly. Upon trying on the cape (cloak) though, he found out that it needed just one slight (minor) adjustment, to make the fit precise. This (alteration) he did it himself without (ado) moment’s hesitation; however, as he was adjusting one of the facets (module) of the cuff clasp as it was set too tight and had to be loosened a notch, unavoidably an invisible prong (spike) just then pricked his wrist and drew miniscule amount of blood. It was such an insignificant drop that neither he nor anyone else paid any heed (attention) to it.

Once Nevetsecnuac was donned in this magnificent and exquisitely constructed (labor intensive) finery that was a work of art, his impressive form caused all his attendants to gasp in awe. They gazed at him admiringly, their mouths agape, and with a glint of envy in their eyes.

Nevetsecnuac was far from pleased or flattered by this magnificent gift; however, mindful of the ravaging, rampant poverty, and the savage oppression of the citizens of Wenjenkun; he was dismayed to, even for a short span (spell), become a party to this decadent sort of extravagance.

02- FRADEL (NEVETSECNUAC)  DONS THE GIFT GARMENT JP 8

Nevertheless, after studying his resplendent form in the full-length brass mirror with unreadable (masked) expression (on his face), with a huff of derision, as this was in keeping with his scholar’s persona, Nevetsecnuac signaled for steward Cholden to help him get it off (undress). This done, the garment was quickly and lightly brushed, reverently and neatly folded, and then swiftly taken away to be stored, until future use.

That afternoon shortly after lunch, feeling more stifled by the soft, plush surroundings and the ever-vigilant beehive (whirlwind) of activity of the attendants trying to anticipate his every wish or whim, Nevetsecnuac strove to get away from it all, to release the pent-up energy coursing in his veins. But despite his ardent desire to leave the complex entirely, he did not venture far, not wishing to compound Steward Cholden’s burdens. As it were, before the assiduous (diligent) and affable Minister, Zaur Stugr had taken his leave earlier on at dawn, he had informed Nevetsecnuac that on his return at dusk, he had wished to acquaint him (Fradel Rurik Korvald) with a special, distinguished friend of his, who had been away. It was to be a token of Zaur’s appreciation of Fradel Rurik Korvald’s rare talents, his most esteemed, illustrious guest.

“It will be quite rare and most memorable treat.” Zaur, turning his head and smiling enigmatically had then reasserted, just before he had stepped inside his carriage.

Nevetsecnuac presently brushing all thought aside, leisurely or at times briskly, strolled through the complex structure of the joint gardens; after an hour this too however, had proven less than satisfactory. Moreover, he suspected that he was flushed in face and despite the fresh air, felt unusually stifled (strangulated, asphyxiated, short of breath) with the heavy, constrictive (oppressive) sensation increasingly taking hold in his chest cavity. Thinking that his discomfort was from the derivative of the intense heat from the burning rays of the cloudless mid-day sun, still permeating despite the tall, dense foliage and numerous ponds and waterfalls dotting the gardens, Nevetsecnuac opted to take a brief refuge in the library, which was a vast complex that included in it a perfectly harmonious private study. More importantly, the massive set of buildings that were nestled in the Northern sector of the complex, were structurally designed, and partially submerged in ground, to always remain temperate all year round.

Once there, Nevetsecnuac quickly dismissed the guards and all the servants to the outer chamber (hallway) anteroom, resolved as he was to indulge his weary (fatigued) senses the gratifying respite and delightful quietude up until his host had returned and he was, unavoidably cast once more into the tumultuous, murky world of the upper crust (high society). Longing now more than ever to reaffirm his old beliefs, he sought out and summarily retrieved a three-volume compiled literary works, which had often in the past been referred to by his uncle and mentor, Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon. Thence, in the bosom of the towering shelves stacked with rare and expensive volumes, seated comfortably in a plush chair, Nevetsecnuac excluded the present world from his (conscious) mind and strove to absorb himself in the wondrous, heroic times of old, at the same time encompassing the eternal teachings and anecdotes of the ancients. Surely enough, these rare compilations before long exuded such power that they cast their spell on him, and he felt strangely enough placated in his heart, mind, and soul.

                                                                                                                ~ 

03-  ZAUR STUGR JP (5)JP

                                                                                

Zaur Stugr having finally efficiently dealt with all the pressing pertinent matters on the day’s agenda, sought and gained permission from the Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren to return to his residence early, to tend to his guest. He was eager to leave office for, since morning he had felt in the crux of his being a certain premonition, a foreboding, and a trepidation of sorts, that something unforeseen and perilous would (might) happen before the day’s end; even though, in view of the high stakes, he had already taken every precaution and left nothing to chance. Before leaving at dawn for his offices he had even cautioned (warned) his staff, especially his steward Cholden and the bodyguards that had been assigned to Fradel Rurik Korvald for the duration of his stay at Zaur’s residence, to be extra vigilant this day; hence, there really was no reason, no foundation for his anxiety. Hadn’t things gone without a hitch thus far? Tomorrow’s appointment with Ronterron Zuke should pass without trouble as well. Then, why was he being so edgy? The day after the summons (scholar’s audience with Sovereign), Fradel Rurik Korvald’s welfare no longer a priority concern, things should revert to normal at home.

Zaur inwardly therefore huffed (snorted), admonishing self for being too overcautious, as he entered his carriage and headed straight for home. Never an idle moment, he picked up but then put aside the document that he had taken along with him to later examine (peruse) in closer scrutiny; then pulling aside the curtain, he peered at the outside to steady his nerves and through distraction (diversion), curtail this persistent sense of disquiet that had beleaguered him even now. Since it failed to work, Zaur sat back and directed his attention instead on scholar Fradel’s most recent enigmatic conduct; this brought (dawned) a temporary pleasant smile to his lips. Subsequently however, his brows knit reflecting on, how the compiled report (dossier) on the scholar Fradel up until then had been entirely unsatisfactory. These last few days’ extra effort and intense probing had also proven fruitless; nevertheless, Zaur had the sense that he had, but barely, scratched the surface and that Fradel Rurik Korvald was by far, the most intriguing and complex individual than he led on. Meanwhile, having taken a strong liking to Fradel, Zaur knew that he would at future time, (on his own initiative,) on pretext, secure a much lengthier visit with the Illustrious Scholar, to thoroughly enjoy his company; and seizing the right opportunity then, when Fradel being on his own turf therefore more open and laidback, penetrate the Scholar’s enigmatic mantle, to accurately (discover) pinpoint the hidden layers of Fradel’s innate nature. Zaur again (through the slit,) absently watching the crowds pass by, pondered on this plan a while longer.

04- COWDS IN CHANNING

Normally Zaur did not like to have any unresolved issues left lingering (hanging) about; everything had to be with precision, quickly and neatly wrapped up (perfectly ratified). As patience had never been one of his virtues, his heightened curiosity had even prompted him to consider taking a drastic action; but then on afterthought, he had relented and aborted this course. Currently, Zaur looking away, shook his head. He would refrain from taking any drastic action; not unless Fradel Rurik Korvald could be recruited. There was really no point in pursuing this matter any further; besides which, he had scarcely any time for it. The present political uncertainty and his busy schedule left little leeway for such indulgences. Letting go wishful thoughts therefore, Zaur shrugged. This day was ending and, fortunately, nothing unforeseen had happened thus far or he would have been informed of it. The night’s planned merriment should pass quickly also without undue incident. Thankfully, the fiendish eunuch Egil Viggoaries had already departed the Capital on a mysterious errand. Taking succinct (brief) mental stock of two major future vengeful ploys that had already been instigated, Zaur Stugr’s mouth formed into a snarl and then, with a lightened heart and a complacent grin he again eased his back into the plush cushions of his carriage that, in part, buffeted the bumpy ride.

Before long, having arrived at his mansion Zaur, armed with the rare gift he had commissioned a while back, alighted from his carriage and with sure footing entered the guest quarters. Steward Cholden, greeting his master Zaur Stugr and being handed the gift to carry could not conceal (hide) his surprise. Noting this, “What is it?” eagle-eyed Zaur impatiently (irritably) in his sonorous voice demanded, as he was headed straight to the library, being informed that that’s where Fradel Rurik Korvald was at presently.

“I beg your pardon, sir, and please don’t think me too presumptuous, when I say that you are being overly generous.”  Cholden, who had been in Zaur’s service for an exceptionally long time, unable to conceal the tone of jealousy (envy) in his voice, answered with a bow. He was about to add more when Zaur, sensing (alerted) something was gravely wrong, abruptly halted his stride, turned and, cutting Cholden off with a sharp gesture of his hand, barked, “What on earth (nonsense) are you babbling about?”  Before the head steward that was taken back could recollect himself enough to give any response, Zaur had spun around and hastened on ahead.

05- FRIGHTENED STUART WHO ALMOST HAS A RUN IN WITH ZAUR

Zaur Stugr in his haste, almost has a near run-in with the panic-stricken young Stuart Tolen, who had just a moment’s before confronted the dreaded scene and, ashen faced, had rushed straight outside to seek help from the guards. Earlier, shocked to the core, he had dropped the tray he had been carrying, the contents, strewn all over, irreparably damaging the rare antique carpet where which collapsed, unconscious figure of Fradel Rurik Korvald lay.

Zaur Stugr entering the room, took in these details immediately but as (since) there was little time for reprimand or reprisal, acting on impulse, on his (Zaur’s) brusque orders, Fradel Rurik Korvald’s comatose body was at once hastily carried over to his room and he was gingerly placed (laid) atop of his bed. Since the resident physician had been sent for already, Zaur Stugr to the best of his ability tried to revive Fradel Rurik Korvald. On his directive cold (compasses) compacts were made available and repeatedly applied to the scholar’s forehead, neck and face as his garments, the restrictive parts were (simultaneously) loosened in a desperate attempt to stabilize Fradel Rurik Korvald’s steadily climbing temperature (alarming fever).

The responding physician Quinher Yungar was a conscientious man (man of rectitude) in his early thirties, with high scruples. In fact, his trustworthiness was beyond reproach. Though he had a brilliant mind, his slight speech impediment had stood in the way of his career advancement.

06- 7 -PHYSICIAN QUINHER YUNGAR JP (56)

Widowed at an early age, he had refused to remarry and lived a secluded, frugal existence in a remote corner of the Empire. Here he had devoted his energies to the study of medicine and to resolving the most difficult and incurable ailments. He had been plucked out of an anonymity (obscurity) by Zaur Stugr, when Zaur happened to be the District Magistrate to that remote town of Quekon in the Monetex Prefecture of Nokoltun Province and rescued him out of dire crisis. Out of gratitude Qinher had from then on faithfully served Zaur Stugr to repay his kindness.

It so happened that while seeking a rare herb on the slopes of Trodor mountain, Quinher had come across a dastardly assault. A powerful local bully, having abducted an honorable family’s beautiful, youngest (only) daughter, meant to ruin her, and force her to be his lover. Responding to her desperate plea (cries) for help Quinher, without a moment’s hesitation for his own safety, had rushed at once to intervene and after a brief struggle with the (brute, charlatan) ruffian Donzi Podai, managed to scare him off. He then promptly delivered her to the safety of her family.

On his return to his humble abode, however, he was met by the local (Yemen) constables and arrested. Summarily brought before the district judge he was charged with the (concocted) crimes of, abducting the very girl he had saved and, for assaulting the intervening gentleman Donzi Podai, who had striven to rescue her from a fate worse than death. Her family, under duress and (likely,) a recipient of a hefty monetary bribe, had been coerced into pressing these false charges.

Quinher, without the benefit of a just trial, indicted, in three days hence, had faced an ignoble public execution. Fortunately, however, Zaur Stugr’s timely posting to the position of District Magistrate, thwarted (foiled) this grave injustice. Reviewing the case and noting obvious irregularities in the report, Zaur Stugr stayed the execution, re-opened the case and retried Quinher Yungar. In the subsequent weeks, no amount of pressure from his superiors, covert threats, or bribes, had deterred Zaur from his just cause. In the end he had uncovered the truth and punished the guilty; but not without repercussions to self (Zaur), as the powerful Podai family had influential allies in the core political ambit (domain, sphere) in Channing. Despite his exemplary record and the subtly exerted influence of the Brotherhood of Kozurs, Zaur’s impending promotion was postponed for a year, and then two years; afterwards, as further reprisal, he was exiled to the most troublesome corner of the Wenjenkun Kingdom.

Zaur nevertheless sufficed the key challenges (naturally with the covert assistance of the Kozurs), and furthermore, brought lasting order to that region. Meanwhile Quinher, despite his acquittal (exoneration), was forced to flee to avoid trouble and to escape (survive) the underhanded persecution of the powerful Podai family’s ardent supporters. After his seven years in oblivion, never forgetting Zaur’s kindness, Quinher Yungar had eventually met up with Zaur Stugr in Channing, and offered his services to him. He had been with Zaur ever since, functioning and living in relative ease under his protective wing.

Even though Quinher Yungar had never met the full criteria for becoming a Kozur, Zaur had the utmost regard for him and had always treated him with the respect (reverence) due to an honored Uncle, rather than an employee. Subsisting in the intolerant atmosphere of the Capital, for his own safety, Qinher had been indefinitely, sequestered indoors; since then, he had lived a quite existence, in the private complex within Zaur’s mansion, functioning as the, always on call, resident physician.

Now tending to Fradel Rurik Korvald, after his brief examination and diagnosis, then a painstakingly long treatment, he eventually emerged from the room with a haggard looking Zaur Stugr in tow. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he turned to give Zaur a reassuring smile and a nod, “Your s…s…swift response may have s…saved his life. We t…t…treated him j…j…just in t…time. It was m…most f…fortunate t…t…that I had p…procured t…the rare antidote from t…that monk. Never had I t…thought at t…the t…t…time…”  Seeing Zaur’s impatience (tiredness), he aborted the intriguing tale of his encounter with the (strange red-haired) monk and reaffirmed (re-asserted), “We have done all we can f…for n…now. The p…proper dose has b…been administered, it will be up to him and d…divine providence, to p…pull through.”  He hissed out a long breath, and, in utter exhaustion, he plummeted into a chair.

“A moment longer would have been too late.,” he mumbled to himself, nodding then, noting Zaur’s grim, angered expression, Quinher smiled disarmingly and offered few encouraging words, “P…please d…do not worry yours…self s…so much. He looks t…to have an excellent p…physique, remarkably so, for an l…literati. If I d…did not k…know b…better…”

“Are you sure there is nothing further we can do to expedite his recovery?” Zaur asked impatiently then turned his hard, irate gaze on the steward, his faced, suffused with wrath.

“N…no, n…nothing. N…now you b…best t…tend t…to your inquiries, sir, I k…know you are m…most anxious to f…find out who is r…responsible.”  Quinher’s response temporarily drew Zaur’s attention away from the steward, allowing Cholden to make him-self scarce (sneak away).

“I will k…keep a c…close eye on F… Fradel R … Korvald f…for you; do not worry. I will inform you the m…minute there is a c…change, or on t…the p…positive note, s…should he regain c…consciousness. Of course…” Quinher hesitated, not knowing how to break the news to Zaur Stugr.

 

 

(END OF SECTION 5) 

 

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC- ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION 17

The ensuing days and nights the relentless journey passed in much the same way: during daylight hours riding as hard as the mare's endurance would allow it and, stopping briefly at nightfall, in some secluded safe spot (away from the main highway), to allow the animal to recoup part of her spent strength.

Eventually on the fifth day, the road ahead merged with the new major trading route that accordingly (according to general hearsay), would be winding its way alongside the river leading to, at some point, to the bustling trading post.

01- NEVETSECNUAC

When at dusk, Nevetsecnuac’s sharp eyes spotted the beginnings of habitation in yonder (in the far distance); he halted the mare’s gallop and paused briefly to ponder whether it was time for him now to revert to his scholarly disguise.

 Concluding in the end that assuming Fradel Rurik Korvald's identity was more appropriate, despite the traps that may lie- in- wait on the road ahead, Nevetsecnuac steered the horse away from the road and, in a perfectly (hidden) secluded spot, clad himself once more in the poet's finery.

Just as he was about to discard the (bundled up) hunting clothes into a deep crevice, his eyes suddenly caught the jutting head of the miniature key, previously given to him in the pit by the tortured skeleton.

Pulling it out, he examined the item more intently (carefully) in daylight, before returning it to his inner pocket and resuming his journey.

Along the way Nevetsecnuac cogitated (deliberated) on how the metal of the miniature key had been sturdy and, strangely, shared certain similar properties, same texture, sheen, and resiliency, with the sword Zonar, at the start of their combat, had given him (furnished him with) for his use. 

Nevetsecnuac further mulled over (nominated) on, those precious small jewels all inset (inlaid) into the stem and around three cursive pictographs, a rare feat, so ingeniously crafted (worked) into the metal. 

His focus suddenly straying (drifting), “Zonar?" he abruptly queried.

"Your presence has been sorely missed.  When and where, I wonder, will our next destined encounter be?"  His lone cry, left unchallenged, resounded in the thin air, losing itself in the whisper of the wind rippling through the hills.

“Indeed, in a strange way he’d missed his most formidable adversary.”

Nevetsecnuac’s thoughts veered, this time, to his recent hallucination and he questioned yet again whether it was a premonition of the future after all.

 “Would the invincible warrior Zonar, really bring about my premature doom?” 

An inexplicable shudder passed through Nevetsecnuac just then, as the cryptic, cold hand of Death tapped his shoulder.  Despite it all, however, he still felt an absence of malice or disdain towards Zonar.

 “Perhaps that is where my own weakness lies?”

When rider and mount halted for a brief respite, Nevetsecnuac’s attention reverting on the miniature key, he pulled it out and studied those three cursive pictographs that had been worked into the metal.

They were unlike any he had seen or studied.

Unable to decipher their meaning, he decided to postpone solving it till later and quickly secured the key back this time, in his luggage.  He then in one fluid motion mounted the horse and in keeping with the pretense of Fradel Rurik Korvald, picked up the reins in the fastidious manner of a casual rider rather than his usual, expert grip.

Carrying the ornate crop that fashionable scholars used, he quickly spurred the horse back onto the road.  This time, however, he kept the horse's speed more moderate and, in keeping with the disguise, he allowed his rudiment traits (mannerisms, characteristics) merge in conformity with Fradel Rurik Korval’s.

Be that as it may, a sudden query (inquiry) prayed on Nevetsecnuac mind, a deep concern on how his sworn brother was faring in his own journey towards the mountain home where Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon and Teuquob awaited.

Nevetsecnuac understood that once Fradel had appraised them of the current political situation, so vastly different from the fictitious one by Heng Erling, and consequently, the amended goal; they would be despondent, comprehending (grasping) that he (Nevetsecnuac) would, forever be lost to them.

 Unbidden, Nevetsecnuac shed a silent tear, his soul now torn at their imagined, inevitable, inconsolable grief.  A Gut-wrenching sadness gripped his heart further, knowing he would miss out on seeing (his identical twins,) his son Alric Svein (boy) and daughter Lueling (girl), grow up.

                                                                                       ~                                                                                     

The journey thus far had been long and arduous, yet these rigors paled in comparison to the impending difficulties that lay ahead.  The Capital Province Holger, with all its rigid rules, regulations and stirring of the political soup made Nevetsecnuac a bit uneasy at first, but as he had been preparing for this eventuality all his life, he remained fully confident in meeting these challenges.  And for now, passing as the esteemed scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald presented the least problem of all.

Suddenly, Nevetsecnuac was rudely awakened from his hopeful reverie by the vociferous sounds of gambling, vigorous gaiety and strident music emanating from a string of inns lining the road up ahead.  The savory smells of every imaginable kind of dish assailed his nostrils, and he became aware for the first time that day of his empty stomach.  Reflecting, he realized that he had neglected to eat since the day before yesterday.

Dusk was falling once more, and he finally succumbed to the strong yearning within him for a warm bath and a cooked meal.

Halting the mare in front of the sixth inn by the side of the road, the most modest and respectable looking one of the lots, Nevetsecnuac dismounted and handed the horse's reins to the eager young stable hand.  Another page boy ran up as he dismounted and scooped up the baggage Nevetsecnuac had already tossed down.  Pausing for a moment Nevetsecnuac watched the stable boy gently handling the horse and leading the mare to the stables out back, then quickly mounted the marble steps (stairs) that led up to the posh (well-constructed) ebony door of the Inn, with the page burdened with the luggage following (trailing) close behind.

Nevetsecnuac was politely greeted by a dignified, rather young-looking, tall, lean, stern-faced proprietor seated at the makeshift desk. The original desk, Nevetsecnuac was to learn later on, had been badly damaged the previous night, casualty of an unprecedented brawl (fight, scuffle) between the two members of a rival faction, and was taken away for prompt repairs.  

02-  PROPRIETOR KJELD ROSKO

The proprietor had keen (intense), intelligent eyes, which its scrutiny penetrated deep within one’s soul. Rising to his feet at once, he’d approached the scholar, and with a slight bow of the head had introducing himself as Kjeld Rosko, the humble proprietor of that establishment, then courteously ushered the obviously distinguished scholar (Nevetsecnuac), to a comfortable seat by the makeshift registry desk.

Nevetsecnuac was first offered a complimentary cup of fragrant tea and asked if he would like some delectable tartlet to go with it.  Before Nevetsecnuac had a chance to reply, however, a shapely maid had brought in a tray bearing the steaming pot (of more tea) and some colorful, fluffy pastries. As Nevetsecnuac politely nodded and reached for the offered cup, the proprietor Kjeld Rosko, assuming his businesslike persona, steered around the table/desk and, fetching the elaborately bound registry book from the drawer, he opened it to a specific page.  After picking up the writing brush from its stand and loading it with ink, his eyes lightly trailed down the list of names on the parchment page to the last entry.

Smiling, Kjeld Rosko (the innkeeper) then looked up to pleasantly inquire after his honorable guest's name, his intended length of stay and his immediate and long-term requirements.

"Tonng Yennik." Nevetsecnuac, wishing to escape the scrutiny and unwarranted attention that the name of Fradel Rurik Korvald would attract, without the least change in his serene, but firm countenance, responded.  As Nevetsecnuac was dictating his other requirements his eye, covertly turned towards the crowded dining hall, where he caught sight of a singular stranger, armed with a finely made broadsword under his tailored garments, taking his evening meal in the company of two stout guards.

The stranger, though seated in a far corner, cut such an imposing figure that everyone in the hall was obviously ill at ease with his presence there.  A slight look of displeasure, after sampling (nibbling) one of the morsels, immediately unleashed, a fit of rage and hurling abuses from the guard on the left, directed at the manager who, in turn, red-faced, berated the hapless waiter who appeared to be laboring for breath from fright, but before he could pass out cold, he’d been perfunctorily dismissed.  On a signal from the manager, the more efficient, seasoned staff burst into the scene to fawn (toady, grovel) and to serve on the demanding two.

Kjeld Rosko momentarily distracted by this, his face twitched failing to hide his irritation and suppressed hostility, but only for a spell; the expression in his blue eyes now unreadable, he sported (wore) for a time a wry (sardonic) grin, as he followed the ongoing  frenzied activity to appease the occupants of that table in the dining hall.  Subsequently, turning away, he barked at the page (more like a snap command) to take the guest’s luggage on up to the available room at once then, hastened to complete his business with scholar Tonng Yennic.

03- KJELD ROSKO

In the midst of all that mayhem, the stranger’s eyes had briefly, with a cold, callous air swept the room, totally disregarding the ruckus (commotion) the guard on his left hand instigated (set off); then, purposefully averting Nevetsecnuac’s gaze, he indifferently resumed his stern conversation with the bearded one on his right.

 “Who are you that you should warrant such fear?”  Nevetsecnuac mused, as he stole an impassive glance at the stranger. 

The moment Nevetsecnuac was anew engaged by the proprietor Kjeld Rosko, however, the stranger reverted his cold, piercing eyes with a calculating gleam back on Nevetsecnuac to study him more intently.  His obvious subordinate, the keen bearded companion, becoming aware of this, abruptly fell silent and turned slightly in the same direction to see Nevetsecnuac then, reverted (turned) his questioning gaze back on the latter.

Nevetsecnuac, from the corner of his eye, astutely observed how the bearded one receiving some silent instructions inclined his head towards the lobby and nodded to some unseen person.

“Now the trap will be set.”  Nevetsecnuac tad (smidgen), amused, nonchalant, at his leisure rose and followed the innkeeper and his assistant Rodny (who’s rigid demeanor was more akin to a bodyguard) up the stairs.

The subtle exchange, Kjeld Rosko catching the stranger's eye in passing and, giving the other a terse, obsequious nod, was of course shrewdly noted by Nevetsecnuac. Stifling a chortle, midway up the stairs he (Nevetsecnuac) turned and halted, boldly looking back at the stranger, giving him a complete once over.

“Who are you, really,” Nevetsecnuac intrepidly mused.

And when Nevetsecnuac’s eye caught the dour glower (stern scowl) of the bearded guard, he simply grimaced wryly and, undaunted, turned to continue following Kjeld Rosko and his assistant Rodny, to the top of the stairs.

The proprietor Kjeld Rosko observing scholar’s audacious (risky) demeanor, his face for a spell had turned ashen, but of course, he had quickly masked his dread and, from then on with a glint of admiration in his pupils, he’d covertly scrutinized this unusual scholar, while he hastened his steps towards the assigned room. Finally, at the end of the long hall Nevetsecnuac was solicitously ushered into an airy, comfortable room.

“Lavish decorations,” Nevetsecnuac noted after a cursory glance, “far too lavish, in fact.”

 A frown appeared on his face, and he shook his head, "This will not do!"

"But sir, it’s the best room we have, the most luxurious one at this Inn." Suppressing his fury, Kjeld Rosko reticently (reservedly, warily) protested.  Clearly, he had not anticipated the objection.  His assistant standing rigidly on the side, looking aghast and tongue-tied, wrung his hands as he nervously searched his brain for more persuasive words, to assist his boss in this.

Nevetsecnuac disdainfully walked past both, to stand before a magnificent tapestry hanging over the far wall.  His stern eyes surveyed the fine stitching until they pointedly rested on a miniature hole concealed by the design, and he grimaced coldly.

On the other side the spy blanched and instinctively recoiled with a jerk, fearing he had been found out.  Then, acknowledging that that was impossible, he pressed a single eye back to the portal only to meet Nevetsecnuac's cold stare once more.  Excitement and fear coursed through his veins as he shuddered anew, filled with apprehension.

04- SPY (FRASTOS) - JP 11

Nevetsecnuac, however, smiled sourly and half turned to address the inwardly seething Kjeld Rosko.

"Are you daft or hard of hearing; I said, this room is unsatisfactory. “He said crossly (irately) then softening his tone, explained. “For one thing, it’s too drafty," he shot a glance back at the tapestry, "for another, I prefer the western exposure.  Perhaps I've neglected to inform you of these particular requirements."

"Please, reexamine facts sir and reconsider," Kjeld Rosko clenched his right fist, hidden behind his back, as his assistant, now tongue-tied, clamoring for an apt excuse.  "If I may be candid with you, the rooms facing west are all occupied.  Besides that, they are all second rate and decidedly draftier."  Kjeld said in a placating tone, though he held his hard gaze on the arrogant scholar, "Won't you reassess?  I'll do everything in my power to make your stay here most pleasant and comfortable.  This is truly our finest room, as befits one of your ‘stature, sir.  I assure you that, even if another room becomes available, it will fall considerably short of the luxury you see here."

"Look here," Nevetsecnuac cut him short with a curt gesture of his hand, "if you don't have the means to accommodate me as I wish, then I strongly suggest that you stop wasting my time.  Have my horse brought round at once!"  Feigning anger, he made to leave, pushing past Kjeld Rosko.

"What's all the commotion about?"  The bearded guard from the dining hall suddenly appeared in the hall.

"Sir, this is a private matter.  Your rude intrusion is not appreciated."  Nevetsecnuac glared at the guard provocatively.

“What business is this of yours?  Get lost!” his stern look plainly said.

Obviously unused to this kind of treatment, the guard looked sharply at Nevetsecnuac, his hand gliding over to rest threateningly at the hilt of his sheathed sword, and his polite smile instantly turned into an icy scowl of hatred.

 Any other would have been wasted for a mere cross look, let alone such a rebuke!

“Have you not the slightest idea whom you are addressing?” his eyes narrowed, as he glared venomously (furiously), the threat implicit in his silence.

“So,” Nevetsecnuac mused, “you've had orders not to molest (assault, abuse, mistreat) me; interesting!”

 In keeping with a scholar's arrogance, Nevetsecnuac was about to haughtily rebuff the restrained bully further, when Kjeld Rosko, with unusual agility, rushed past Tonng Yennik (Nevetsecnuac).

Eyes hard with steel determination, the resilient (tough and flexible) proprietor, nevertheless, bowed low to the guard.

"I apologize profusely, sir, for your trouble.  I apologize to you both."  Kjeld Rosko turned and bowed low also, to Tonng Yennik.  Despite his outward show of submission, he quaked in rage, inwardly. Nevetsecnuac was secretly impressed with Kjeld Rosko’s admirable stoical (tolerant, forbearing) nature.

"It’s just a slight misunderstanding, that's all."  Shifting his sham (pretend), nervous gaze back and forth between the guard and Tonng Yennik, he dabbed at the supposed perspiration on his mustache, with his handkerchief.  "The gentleman wishes to have another room.  I was just about to accommodate his wishes."

“It sounds like you're asking his permission, innkeeper!” Nevetsecnuac questioningly looked at Kjeld Rosko.

The guard's face, meanwhile, had crinkled in momentary disgust as, clenching his fist, he let the built-up anger drain slowly from him.  After a scornful laugh he averted Tonng Yennik's eyes and gave the briefest of nods.

 "I apologize for the intrusion."  Without another word, he briskly turned and left.

Kjeld Rosko was relieved that the volatile situation had been averted; after a furtive glance at the retreating guard, he politely turned to address the scholar: "Please, for the time being, make yourself comfortable here; I'll go and make all the specific arrangements at once." Attaining a nod of concurrence from Tonng Yennik, he exhaled deeply, bowed low once more, then hastily withdrew.

“What dramatics!” Nevetsecnuac shook his head after the proprietor.

 “It had not been his intention to be so hard on Kjeld Rosko.  He was only testing the waters to see how far they would go to keep him here.  But why have they made no contact yet?  What were they waiting for?”  Nevetsecnuac had already formed his own opinion on the singular stranger's role in all this or, at least, who it was that had ordered his accommodation here.  Nevetsecnuac had set the wheel in motion, forced their hands but, until the inevitable meeting which, he was certain, would transpire later that night, there was little left now for him to do.  With a shrug of his shoulders, he strolled to the far end of the room and stood in front of the window, thoughtfully staring out at the view.  The miniature gardens, with their man-made mountains and creeks, the snaking pathways bordered by elaborate lattices seemed to be pure ostentation. 

05-SCHOLAR TONNG YENNICK (NEVETSECNUAC)JPG

The shallowness of it all rather disgusted him.  “Only those who only experienced nature at second hand could find the tiny landscape appealing,” he concluded.  He disdainfully pursed his lips then turned away from the window, his mind returning to the stranger and his guards.

“I foiled their immediate plans and forced them into an alternate course.  Next, I'll appear agreeable, but not too much so.  Why should I make things too easy for them?”  His eyes once more surveyed the room.

“I wonder where the trap door is.”  Deducing (figuring out) the most likely spot, he walked over and tapped lightly, so as not to alert any guard concealed within.  Satisfied with the result, he turned back and sat down by the fireplace.

Short time later Kjeld returned somewhat panting (winded, breathless) and with flushed (red) face, for he had to oversee a lot of details and alter or shift the carefully devised plans and traps that had been in place for nearly a month.  After apologizing profusely to Tonng Yennik for the inconvenience and the slight delay he declared, with a certain satisfaction, that the room fitting his precise specifications had now been made ready for his perusal. Kjeld Rosko then, graciously inclined his head and invited Tonng Yennik to follow him.  As they were leaving, Kjeld turned and bayed at his underling Rodney, to; at once move the gentleman's baggage to the “Room Twelve”.

Down the hall, they came across a disgruntled merchant, hair disheveled and clothes akimbo, being hastily, unceremoniously deposited into a new room.  Too angry, or perhaps too frightened, to articulate his feelings, he glared furiously at Kjeld Rosko then stole a scornful glance at Tonng Yennik, before going in and pointedly slamming the door in their faces as they passed.

Feigning incomprehension, Nevetsecnuac raised an eyebrow at the innkeeper.  The apologetic Kjeld nervously rushed to give some lame excuse for the merchant's rude behavior, glancing fearfully at the cracked door to his left as he spoke.  Then, with polite rhetoric (pomposity), he motioned to the room on the right and, inclining his head slightly, ushered Tonng Yennik into the hastily prepared Room Twelve.

"Is this room more to your satisfaction, sir?  Does it meet with your approval?"  Kjeld’s deep etched lines on his face, tell-tale-signs of fret, creased further with impatience as he, waited for an answer.

"Hmm… It will do." Nevetsecnuac responded, after a brief perusal.  Walking over to the far corner, he sunk into a comfortable chair by the mantle.

 “Odd,” Nevetsecnuac noted the recently disturbed dust floating in the air; “this room had not been used for some time.  It obviously wasn't my needs that dislodged that merchant.”

Highly pleased and, showing no inclination to leave Kjeld, meanwhile, had walked up to the tray bearing a teapot and cups and, turning, graciously offered his guest a seething cup of fragrant tea. Receiving a negative response, he next, on the pretext of showing the amenities of the room and how it accorded with his guest's instructions, prodded Tonng Yennik discreetly, so he thought, for more information, his background, destination, and the nature of his business in the Capital.

With a seemingly agreeable disposition, Nevetsecnuac provided him with only the minimum of harmless information, just enough to satisfy Kjeld's curiosity.  Then, feigning distraction, inquired pointedly after the stranger with the broadsword whom he had seen earlier in the dining hall.

06- FAMOUS BATHOUSE  (3)JPG

The shock, which Kjeld Rosko so miserably failed to mask and, his subsequent, evasive answers, piqued Nevetsecnuac’s curiosity.  Nevertheless, for the time being, he decided to simply let it pass.

To Kjeld’s relief just then, an underling after knocking poked his head in and hastily offered his apologies for the intrusion; he next, happily announced that the provisions for the bath had been made ready in the bathing hall.

"A communal bath," Tonng Yennik, his face showing obvious signs of displeasure, derisively asked.

"Why, of course." Kjeld with a profligate grin, explained.  "And you’ll be attended by rare, exquisite beauties of either gender, depending on your preference of course. We have become quite famous for our bathing facilities here ever since we found the means to channel the nearby hot springs in an unlimited supply.  Sir, you are quite fortunate that you have come at this time before high Season.  Winter is our busiest time, and nearly all our rooms are reserved far in advance by gentry from near and far.  Oh, but I'm keeping you from your enjoyment of your bath."  Seizing this opportunity, Kjeld Rosko beat a hasty retreat.

“Yes, hasten forth and report your findings to that stranger.  I'm sure he will be impressed by the uselessness of your observations,” Nevetsecnuac thought as the Innkeeper departed.

“I’m in need of a bath, “Nevetsecnuac reflected, “but only that and nothing else.”

Before he left the room however, Nevetsecnuac took the precautionary measure of concealing his identity papers in a supposed, secure place.  Locking the door after him, he swiftly traversed the long hallway and descended the stairs, following the painted images of a man in a tub down to the bathing chamber.

 

                                                                                            ~

 

(END OF SECTION 17)

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION 5

01-NEVETS ARRIVING AT  THE REMOTE CHECKPOINT

At sundown Nevetsecnuac without incidence crossed the remote border checkpoint and entered the Capital province of Holger. The nearby town still to be reached, at a secluded spot at the edge of a dense forest, he dismounted his horse and then donned his scholar's robes, afterwards he traveled at some speed at the main highway. That evening and few evenings after that he’d stayed at modest, respectable inns and hostels, chiefly to rest his mare, buy some supplies and to gather (pertinent) reconnaissance information from the seemingly friendly locals.

At first, unlike the other provinces, he’d found Holger to be prospering, with citizens contented and not lacking in comfort or being out of sorts; beneath the seemingly pervading peaceful order and opulent facade, however, he could sense that something sinister and evil lurked that bolted shut every dissident's mouth. And when he discretely and relentlessly delved deeper into internal matters and the existing facts, Nevetsecnuac uncovered, true enough, ugly manipulation, wide-spread corruption among the officials, appalling misery, and vast enslavement of the seemingly normal populous. 

02- MARKETPLACE AT SUBURB TOWN IN HOLGER PROV.2

Nevetsecnuac’s soul became further beset (burdened, tormented) with wearying (draining) despair, understanding the fact that even at this furthest periphery, the stranglehold of (Usurper Zakhertan Yozdek’s) stringent rules of law and the draconian penalties, all enforced under the (guise) masked miasma of propriety (aptness, decency), solidly dictated every facet of each citizen’s life. Enslaved by the eternal, numbing fear coursing through their veins, the unfortunate masses, even those rare would-be dissidents, consequently had their mouths permanently bolted shut, despite the fact that their subsistence were far worse than any imagined torture in Hell; moreover, Nevetsecnuac understood that he had to harden his heart for ahead, lay, a  portended, graver conditions, far worse villainy, and abominations.

                                                                                      ~

 Meanwhile, in response to his inquiry as to which course to take to reach the Capital City, the river route was pointed out to him, time and again, as being the most preferred and pleasurable of alternatives.

Though admittedly a bit slower, for the Yawjun River meandered widely and was subject to occasional storms, the magnificent scenery along its course fostered (cultivated, nourished) every scholar's, poet's and artist's soul and the comfortable lodgings provided by the charter boats more than compensated for this slight inconvenience.

 Nevetsecnuac, for the sake of expediency, opted instead for the faster land route and, late that afternoon, at the outskirts of town, at a secluded spot behind the hill, further down the road, he allowed the mare to graze briefly on the tall, lush grass, as he once more changed back into his regular traveling clothes then secured the scholar's garb in the luggage bundle behind his saddle.

03- NEVETSECNUAC

After two days journey, once more ignoring the last well-meaning innkeeper’s counsel, (a short, plump, middle aged man called Huisun, who had taken a liking to Nevetsecnuac and had genuinely tried his best to deter him from taking the hazardous course as this was the worst season for such a daring undertaking), Nevetsecnuac, digressed from the main highway, to continue (via) by way of short-cut route.

The direction he was headed traversed the most dangerous Yokono Mountains, a range of peaks of various heights, some of which towered to touch the Heavens, that stretched away far to the south-east. Eventually the trail would meet up with the more frequented, safer, and civilized roundabout route by the river.  By rights, Huisun's apprehension was well (founded) warranted for, even in a good season, the path was marred (marked) by the skeletal remains of those, however competent, which had chosen not to pay heed to the warnings and were never seen or heard from again.

Naturally the locals who lived in the shadows of the Yokono range firmly believed in the superstition of the evil, wayward mountain spirits that dwelt in the abundant caves and deep caverns.

These nefarious spirits supposedly perpetually preyed on the unsuspecting souls of travelers, driving them to madness then suicide, if they per chance, miraculously survived (avoided succumbing to) nature’s numerous lethal traps and the predatory beasts that in profusion, inhabited the mountain slopes.

 Accordingly, the Mountain God of the Yokono, Choron, received many offerings from those who lived at the edge of the foothills and was often called upon to preserve the inhabitants from various malefactions which they perceived may, at any time, descend upon them from the mountains to inflict injury and spread terror.

04- MONSTERS AND MALEVOLENT SPIRITS

  ~

 

The first leg (part) of this journey was uneventful (without incidence), even tedious for Nevetsecnuac, then, with a drastic change in the weather, gale winds swept across the foothills as incessant, torrential rains lasting for weeks on end, drummed on his head; the deluge washing the slopes clean and creating mud traps and fatal rockslides.

Despite these (occurring) scores of obstacles in his path, Nevetsecnuac relentlessly pushed on, endeavoring to cover as much ground as possible on any given day. Subsequently he reached the segment where the towering range on both sides hastened the dusk. Here the overhead broad-leafed trees shielded Nevetsecnuac from most of the downpours, but this was a mixed blessing for they also enveloped him in an oppressive darkness in which the air increasingly grew stagnant.

In this eerie, foreboding atmosphere, due to copious annual precipitation, the soft rocks of the mountainside had been carved into grotesque shapes, while lush green vegetation habitually choked the already precarious paths.

Underneath, an abundance of creepy, crawly insects, legless, slippery reptiles with fangs and venomous amphibians (frogs) posed yet another sort of danger. Meanwhile, the multitude of dark caves, crevices slimy with moss, and the huge, forbidding caverns that held wild, predatory inhabitants frequently tested Nevetsecnuac's prowess when he had to contest with them for the night's shelter (accommodations), though by preference, he avoided inflicting on them any serious harm.

 Incredibly, after the next stretch, the topography, and the atmosphere both underwent a drastic change; there were now plenitude of gushing streams, abundant picturesque, roaring waterfalls crowned in mist, tingling, gurgling brooks in their plenitude intermingling with the drumming rain and obsessive wind.

Periodic streaks of sunlight brushed, the dancing, fleshy, provocative leaves, swaying, tempting branches in a lugubrious symphony enrapturing one in a magical air, delighting the senses to their fullest and giving one, in fact, a false sense of security and serenity.

The ever-present dangers from the majestic, possessive Yokono mountain peaks towering overhead, meanwhile, perpetually glowering, threatened to at any given moment to inflict havoc on the unsuspecting, lulled trespasser who dared to violate this sanctimonious ground.

With so many treacherous traps just waiting to claim him in a wink, could Nevetsecnuac be expected to escape them all, unscathed?  Hence, in one moment's inattention because of a spooked horse, Nevetsecnuac (while leading the horse), nearly did in fact succumb to the ravenous appetite of a precipitous drop.

 One catastrophe begetting another, that same instant the horse's hind left leg got trapped in a collapsed crevice, Nevetsecnuac losing his footing, had slipped on the moss covering the just then loosened rock and unavoidably went right over the edge. He managed to slow the speed of his descent and arrested (halted) his further plunge, by grasping at the roots and vines hanging from the top, till he eventually secured his footing on a protruding rock ledge. Tethered precariously (by still holding the roots), he looked down to (see) catch the accompanying mossy rocks and clumps of muddy earth, as well as the ridge, in a blink disappear into the hazy abyss.

Up above the spooked mare trotted and neighed uneasily as she tried to liberate her hind leg from the entrapment in the solid segment of the path, unwittingly however, creating an extra dire situation, by loosening (dislodging) still more earth and rock.

With the skill and agility of a monkey, Nevetsecnuac, in nick of time hauled himself up to safety to dispel the blindfolded mount's fears, before the beast did irrevocable damage to herself. 

A careful examination of the rescued leg revealed the mare's ankle bones to be intact, though the muscle and skin around it was slightly swollen from bruising and superficial lacerations. Nevetsecnuac tended to this best he could.

Later, as Nevetsecnuac and mare, ascended to greater heights, the unusually sweltering temperatures and torrential rains created a permanent miasma that, compounded with the thin air consistent with these high altitudes, further constrained the lungs to the degree of belaboring their advance.  Sorely missing the cold, refreshing temperatures, Nevetsecnuac looked up longingly to the summits in the hope of tracing the expected margin of snow, but his vision was obscured by the crowning mist that descended all the way down to converge with the rising fog and steam from the mantled valleys below.  Nevertheless, tirelessly advancing along the middle ground in this ambiance, if it was not for the stony, thorny path, Nevetsecnuac could have quite easily imagined that he was treading on clouds in mid-air.

                                            ~                                       

 Dealing with the ever-present persistent dangers from the roaming predatory beasts and slithering serpents (or poisonous reptilians underbrush) by day and nocturnal animals, birds (bats) and biting insects at night, eventually on a descending course, Nevetsecnuac trailed the narrow ledge that had been carved into the mountain with one side having the rising peaks decked with ancient, towering trees with huge, wide trunks with heights reaching up to the clouds while on the other side again a steep precipice dropping to a bottomless abyss.  Despite this, leading the blindfolded horse by the reins, he successfully negotiated these countless perilous turns this way and that, to reach the more favorable plateau.

Advancing at this more lenient segment, once on a rare cloudless day, in the absence of rain, mist and fog, Nevetsecnuac, with unobstructed vision, witnessed the unfolding glory of the most magnificent, panoramic, breathtaking view that had all along eluded him.  Looking beyond the frolicking, rainbow-colored birds; Nevetsecnuac elatedly then, had traced the now visible river Yawjun carving a snaking vein through a deep valley thousands of feet down.

The worst part of the journey finally behind them, in this more moderate climate, man and mount trailed in more leisured pace the stony pathway flanked by thick vegetation and strange, broad-leafed trees; thus enjoying, the branches bedecked with budding blossoms swaying gently in the breeze that fanned them. The delicate fragrant air softly caressing his face, Nevetsecnuac, delightfully lent an ear to the melodious thrilling of songbirds as they were busily building nests. Fully appreciating nature's exquisite beauty, which enchanted and enthralled his senses, he paused frequently to assimilate it all as his eyes observed in delight the industrious, buzzing bees happily converging on the pistils of blossoms, the flippant, fluttering, frail butterflies contesting in beauty with the host flowers, and the droning, intrusive insects encircling the air in peaceful coexistence with the furry, fuzzy, frolicking animals in full celebration of life.

In the ensuing days his heart burst in excitement, his head in fanciful clouds, Nevetsecnuac bounced his steps joyfully on the petal strewn pathway that gradually straightened, flattened, and widened as it converged with the more moderate route (trail, segment, road).

The undulated slopes surrounding this dell hemmed in by jagged peaks in parts were densely forested, portending still a multitude of concealed dangers.  However, this did not raise the least concern in Nevetsecnuac. Nearing the end of his dried rations, he scavenged for some delectable mushrooms, wild berries and dug up some edible roots for sustenance. Intoxicated with nature's beauty for the first time since he had embarked on this long, arduous journey, he had only now permitted himself the luxury of such serendipity.

 In that brief respite he had ceased to exist, the all-encompassing, enchanting nature possessed his soul and his weightless body floated on the warm, fragrant breeze.

07- NEVETSECNUAC

The colors, enhanced by the sun's brilliant rays, grew in intensity brighter and brighter still till he was almost blinded.  Indistinct patterns of all shapes and forms danced next, in front of his eyes as swirling lines created by swaying branches and the flight patterns of insects simultaneously drew iridescent, incoherent messages for him in the air.

 Dizziness overcoming him, he reclined spread eagle on the plush, wet, multicolored carpet and, for a moment, closed his eyes in repose.

But no sooner had he done so than he felt the cold, sharp edge of a blade pressed firmly against his bare throat.  Opening his eyes with a start, he saw before him the glaring face of Zonar.

"We've some unfinished business, you and I," he sneered icily, his one knee pressed firmly, squarely on Nevetsecnuac's chest.

"I said we'll be meeting again.  How is it you're still caught unaware?" he asked, mockingly and, throwing his head back, laughed uproariously before answering his own question…"But perhaps not this early, eh?"

 

(END OF SECTION 5)