11- LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC– EVIL PERSONIFIED – SECTION 1  

"Son of Wushing", Zonar called him. “Did he know? How did he know?”  Lenny never had the chance to ask the General. His closely guarded secret identity was known only to Sovereign Yoshikan Sousing Nokuzuk Binchan and now it seemed, to one other. He only hoped that it would go no further than General Zonar Kuntzu.  

01- LENNY SUKZOR (12)JP

  

Though Lenny Sukzor had returned to bed immediately after Zonar's abrupt departure, sleep till dawn had averted him; in an agitated state he had turned and tossed all night long, reminiscing, in his head considering missed (avenues) opportunities and possibilities and then, going over alternate plans.  

Lenny Sukzor recalled vividly the day which he had learned of his true parentage. His mother Ingrit, who had survived his father by just shy of two years, had confessed this to him at her deathbed, casting his heart, for a lengthy period, into utter turmoil. Lenny had undergone a drastic change then, discovering that all those years of his life had been a lie. Yes, all those closest to him had betrayed his trust, only they had called it "protecting" him. More likely it had served their purpose to keep him ignorant; but however, you termed it; Lenny Sukzor was the product of a grand indiscretion.  

At the time of Minister Keko Wushing’s trip to the capital Channing in Wenjenkun to elicit support for Korion, he had stayed as the houseguest of Minister Dongue Youlu and the two had found they had much in common. Minister Youlu, the most generous host, had given many feasts in Wushing's honor. After one such dinner, and more inebriated than usual, Wushing had chanced upon in the Fuchisia Pavilion, the Minister's beautiful fourth daughter named Ingrit. Unable to help himself, and helped along by the wine, powerless to resist her charm. He had fallen deeply in love and going against propriety, had seduced this innocent fairy maiden. At dawn, of course, he immediately regretted his indiscretion of the previous night and was of a mind to set things right by formally asking for her hand in marriage and taking her back, as his second wife, to his home in Korion. Unlike Wenjenkun, it was the norm in Korion at that time, for the well-off gentry to have more than one wife.

02- INGRIT YOULU- LATER BECAME INGRIT SUKZOR

 Unfortunately, events took a wrong turn and, before he could reveal his honorable intentions to Minister Dongue Youlu, he was whisked away to manage (oversee) other more pressing concerns. As affairs of the state took precedence over affairs of the heart, the matter had then been temporarily shelved.  

Wushing never learned of her pregnancy until after he had already departed for Korion; nevertheless, he vowed to send for her. But once again other things took precedence, like the complete rebuilding of the nation.  

Meanwhile, as she was from an old, well-established family, when her condition became known to her father, she had been forced into a hurried marriage with another, hence the surname of Sukzor.  

The ensuing turmoil of the following years, Zakhertan Yozdek’s rise to power and usurpation of the throne, his punitive campaign against Korion. It had been as though fate had conspired to keep Lenny Sukzor from ever knowing the truth. Thinking Keikon Sukzor was his natural father, he had cheered on relentlessly when Korion was subjugated and its populous nearly got extinguished. He had been brought up to believe that Wushing was a monstrous, most cunning political leader (statesperson) whose only purpose had been to oppose Wenjenkun; hence he should be despised and spat upon.  

03- WUSHING, THE MINISTER OF INTERIOR B

As it were, (believing in the state’s propaganda)  Lenny Sukzor had been the staunch supporter of Zakhertan Yozdek from the very start and had been one of the youngest statesmen that had devised the ingenious stratagems that had brought about the near destruction of Korion and, the subsequent expansion of Wenjenkun's territories, through the subjugation of many other border states to the north and then to the west.   

At the time Lenny Sukzor had been baffled by his mother's silent brooding and her seeming indifference when she heard news of the conquest and then the humiliating subjugation of Korion. Lenny Sukzor again winced recollecting his unfair, remonstrations with his mother that had resulted in her (copious) profuse tears.  

Lenny sat upright and, after drinking two swigs (mouthfuls) of water from the jug to quench his thirst, he went over and drew aside a crack the thick window (coverings) curtains, wishing to gaze at the night sky to calm his mind and bring about sleep. The remaining hours however had passed in a wink with no such luck; when the first rays of dawn (sunrise) caressed his face, “Oh well, I might as well get up now.” Grumbling, he threw his covers off and bolted from the bed.  

Shortly after dawn that same day, Lenny Sukzor arrived at Yoshikon Temple as he, a devout Hexoc, so often did, to offer prayers and give sacrifice to the local deity. As was the custom, a monk was assigned to assist him in bringing the complex rituals to completion after which he was served a specially prepared tea by the same monk in a private corner.

There was nothing unusual in this peaceful exchange and time for soothing reflection, a time in which, the monk clarified the scriptures or resolved a particular concern of a Hexos’ devotee. But appearances can be deceiving. It was not entirely by accident, that this monk had been assigned to Lenny Sukzor, nor was it strictly religious doctrines that were, with hushed voices, being discussed. With spies rampant everywhere, Black Molochs had developed an ingenious, coded dialogue where a rich duplicity of meanings was encapsulated in religious terminology and metaphors. This was one of three alternate means with which contact ‘couriers conveyed a vital covert message to the secret affiliate. Thus far they had been most fortunate that this means of communication had escaped detection by the ever-watchful agents of one of the other factions.  

Although Channing at night was a beehive of clandestine activities, necessitating the rigorous vigilance of the Secret Police to track (track) most if not all of it, there was by no means any laxity felt during the daylight hours either.  

Whether it was a brazen act or a foolhardy one, Wenjenkun’s Minister of Internal Security- Egil Viggoaries held the most secret meetings of his coterie in broad daylight right under their noses, disguised of course as official acts or plausible social calls. This afternoon, the members of the Inner Circle of the Order of The Black Molochs that were gathered in the meeting hall were particularly restless. They were all bound together by an intricate system of complex initiation rituals, secret oaths, and ceremonial intermingling of living blood, and it was one of their own who would be tried before them now. At the proper time, the news of Zhadol Borym’s capture, and subsequent incarceration had reached them all. Whether they admitted it or not, Zhadol had ingratiated himself with all the members of the Order's Inner Circle and, as the veteran member of the group, most owed him a favor or two.  

04- COMANDER ZHADOL BORYM

  

Mindful of this stiff opposition, Egil Viggoaries had taken certain precautionary measures to curb all anticipated appeals on behalf of Zhadol. For some time now he had deemed Zhadol as expendable and already had his replacement waiting in the wings. As a means of demonstrating his incompetence and ineffectiveness, Zhadol had been assigned to a task that was doomed (with certain measure of certainty) to fail. When news of Fradel Rurik Korvald’s safe arrival in the Capital had reached him, Egil Viggoaries had neither been surprised nor particularly pleased. It had merely turned out just as he had anticipated it, although the subsequent reports of Zhadol Borym’s attempted suicide had taken him aback ever so slightly.  

Yes, that piece of news had disappointed, or rather, annoyed him, for he had at least expected, or hoped for a more fitting end to the old pro.  

Of course, Egil Viggoaries would never admit this, even to himself, and would have outright denied that a small part of him secretly harbored a certain fondness for his once lifelong companion. The simple fact was that Zhadol Borym had grown useless of late; he had softened up. Admittedly, the source of this weakness was his relationship with Lieutenant Yennic Zhiborym, and Egil Viggoaries was not above underhandedly manipulating this relationship to his own advantage. Once, at a rare moment’s weakness, Egil had regretted this ploy, but even so he could delude himself only so much. In truth, unable to purge his heart of this seething jealous anger, this dissatisfaction with Zhadol Borym. He had sought by this means to denigrate him, to pay him back for that insolent, ill-conceived act.  

As anticipated, it had been Yennic who had stopped Zhadol from terminating his own life while at the same time covertly abetted in Zhadol’s capture. Yennic thought he was invaluable because he could communicate with the ravens; a claim Egil Viggoaries did not truly believe, thinking it to be nothing more than a parlor trick. Ambitious cur that he was, Yennic had hoped to advance his own prospects through this act of treachery, only to find he had grossly underestimated the gravity of the situation and the dire outcome, not only for Zhadol but for himself as well.

05- LIEUTENANT YENNIC

  

“Did the worm really think that we would not find out about him; furthermore, that the Order would blindly foster his ambitions? He had some gall (some nerves, cheek). “Egil scoffed with utter disdain. For even if Yennic had been other than what Egil had suspected, he would still be of little use to the Order. Egil Viggoaries ate rodents like Yennic for breakfast.  

“Could it be that he did not understand the Ritual? He was motivated out of true affection?"  Egil Viggoaries, meanwhile, typically turned a deft ear to the sympathetic whispers about Zhadol.  

“Well, no point in delaying the inevitable.” Egil Viggoaries grimaced venomously as he descended the steps leading to the antechamber.  

As soon as he entered the room, they all snapped smartly to attention; heads slightly bowed in ritual submission. At the same instant, a strained silence took hold, enveloping the assembly. With deliberate slowness, Egil Viggoaries strode to the other side of the hall and assumed his position. When seated he scanned the faces of the eleven men before him, meeting their eyes as they stood rigidly erect, hands at their sides, motionless as if they had been cast in bronze.  

Egil Viggoaries’s eyes passed over Lenny Sukzor, resting for an extended period on this replacement of Lance Diostin as he stood farthest away in the circle, least in nominal order of importance. As he sized the man up, he noted how the recruit was puffed up with arrogance and he nodded coolly, absently as he donned a sinister grin. The starkly unoccupied chair to Egil Viggoaries’s right stood as a magnet for the ambitions spread out below him and as a grim reminder of the coming unpleasantness that awaited them at the end of this day's session.  

One by one, the more pressing matters on the agenda were swiftly dealt with. From this point on, the orders and instructions would be relayed to the rest. The eighty-nine subordinate officers who, each entrusted with small, strictly regimented contingents of their own in all corners of the empire, waited in the wings. It was indisputably the most efficient spy network, as well as a competent paramilitary force that was not to be trifled with. It was all the brainchild of one man, Egil Viggoaries, who had constructed the foundations of this network in theory when he was no more than thirteen years of age.

Briefly perusing the preliminary issues on the agenda for the next gathering, Egil Viggoaries then set up the ordinary business aside and motioned for the prisoners to be brought in to face their tribunal. Their trial and sure conviction had already occurred, in the mind of Egil Viggoaries and this scene was a sham, a mere formality to make a sure impression on the others under a pretense of fairness. It was a game Egil Viggoaries occasionally allowed himself to indulge in.

Despite the sure anticipation of Zhadol’s condition, his appearance all bound and gagged and his face bearing the sure signs of grievous maltreatment, which evoked in many of his former comrades the long forgotten, deeply buried feelings of compassion and pity.

06- WARRIOR FRIENDS (33)

No one cared about the inconsequential Yennic Zhiborym, whose face and body bore the traces of the most horrendous and brutal torture; and where once most of his refined, distinctive features attracted many, presently bore the marks of countless lacerations and ugly deep scars.  Yet this fact did not even elicit one furrowed brow; far from it, it pleased them to observe Yennic's obvious tortured state. He was so roundly despised for his role in the capture and vilification of Zhadol. They jeered and gnashed their teeth when viewing Yennic, yet heaved a secret, dejected sigh when stealing a glance at Zhadol Borym. Still, not a single whisper of protest mounted on Zhadol Borym's behalf escaped their tightly sealed lips, so properly intimidated were they by the wrath of Egil Viggoaries.

Nevertheless, in the averted eyes of a more enlightened minority, there were unmistakable indications (marks) of slight visible hint, as they looked for ways to exonerate Zhadol Borym from all blame. Truth be told, they had stealthily harbored the notion that their compatriot had been the unfortunate victim of an odious intrigue and that his failure was but compounded from that original failing.

07- FRIENDS OF COMMANDER ZHADOL

With a slight indication of the chin from Egil Viggoaries, the stone-faced guards pushed Zhadol Borym forward to fall to his knees before the Dark Eunuch. Egil Viggoaries had earned that distinction of being referred to as Dark Eunuch, because of the extreme cruelty of his innate nature and soul.  

Linked to Zhadol Borym by the heavy bronze chains, this action of the guards had also pushed Yennic Zhiborym on his knees, causing the manacles to sink further into the already gaping wounds in his neck, ankles, and wrists. But Yennic’s involuntary cry of pain had elicited only a brief mocking glances from few of the Inner Circle members of the Black Molochs; contrastingly, Zhadol's eyes had held a degree of compassion for the rag doll of a figure who had once been his friend. Looking away from Yennic, Zhadol Borym fearlessly glared round this circle of stone-faced leaders, forcing them one by one to avert their eyes before he next turned his burning, defiant, reproachful gaze to rest on Egil Viggoaries.  

“So, all these years of loyalty (loyal service) and intimacy counted for nothing? Now I am discarded like a dirty rag. I protest this injustice; I do not deserve this disgraceful treatment!”  

Despite the rush of memories Zhadol's defiant, intrepid manner had brought to Egil Viggoaries’s mind, he had remained outwardly resolute and pinned his icy, odious glare (eyes filled with loathing) on Zhadol. “There can be no absolution for your crime! You know the rules, yet you dared to stand stoically unrelenting!"  The Dark Eunuch’s furious roar suddenly broke the tense, eerie silence that had enveloped the room.  

"Death is death!" Zhadol Borym spat the words out of his bloodied, bruised mouth as he glared back at Egil Viggoaries. Bristling with anger, he cried out in a voice that crackled with hatred and revulsion. "My only crime is that prior, I tried to cheat you out of the great satisfaction my death would bring you. So why defer your perverse pleasure? Get on with it!” Then, scornfully, he added, "But have you considered all the possible ramifications of your actions?"  

Egil Viggoaries reared upwards like a viper (cobra) and hissed, "Are you finished?"  

"Finished; no, not by a long shot!" Zhadol Borym defiantly countered. As a condemned man he had little to lose, and he was determined to face his end with stoicism and a certain dignity. He spoke fervently, "We all know you sent me on that fool's errand knowing I would fail. You deemed I was expendable, and you wanted me to be supplanted (replaced, offed). But why should you go to all that trouble?"  Then Zhadol Borym gave a derisive laugh.  

All present in the hall quaked in their boots for his dared effrontery. Zhadol Borym may be a doomed man, yet they knew that Egil Viggoaries was not one to be provoked.   

“Such prodigious (immense, outstanding) audacity (nerve) Zhadol Borym had!”  All eyes were pinned on Egil Viggoaries, trying to gauge the cruelty of his response. Unfortunately, the Dark Eunuch's stone-cold face said it all.   

Even though Egil had remained outwardly, atypically placid, the threat was implicit in his eyes. Furthermore, his icy silence spoke volumes. Zhadol would pay, and oh so dearly, for this (impudence) outburst!  

08- EGIL VIGGOARIES - THE DARK EUNUCH

Lieutenant Yennic , unwisely (foolishly) at this point summoning all his strength, girded up his courage and edged forward, ready to use his glib tongue, while it was still attached to his mouth, to plead for both their lives. Before he could speak, however, he was struck flat by the stout, heartless guards. No one wanted to hear from Yennic at this juncture; he was nothing more than mere vermin.  

"I warned you," Zhadol’s reproachful and dismayed look said to Yennic, as he shook his head. 

"But would you listen? Would you listen to good counsel? (pay me any heed?)"  

   

Even though Zhadol knew it was useless, his compassionate heart nevertheless urged him to plead on Yennic’s behalf; Yennic might be spared small measure of punishment, if Zhadol humiliated himself enough, to appease Egil Viggoaries’s perverse sensibilities.  

Surmising his intent, Egil Viggoaries grinned. "You would do better to plead for your own self." He leaned forward to sneer (jeer, taunt, hiss) venomously.

"Would it do any good?" Zhadol Borym sternly asked.  

"No," Egil Viggoaries glowered down at him, "but it may amuse us and we may then possibly show some measure of leniency in the severity of and (length) span of time of “TK Cuts,” before your demise."  He was of course blatantly lying. There would be no mercy; his face contorted in a snarling grin as he leaned back once more to scan with narrow, pitiless eyes on the faces in the room.

“Ten Thousand Cuts,” Zhadol Borym winced and swallowed hard. "Why so severe a penalty?"  He then got a grip on his senses and, again defiantly, incredulously, shook his head.  His horror meanwhile was impromptu (involuntarily) mirrored on the faces of all those assembled. Suddenly, the profusion of images, those wretched beings, and the anguished cries of the past victims, which Dark Eunuch had doomed to this manner of death, now paraded before everyone’s eyes, and echoed in their ears.

Zhadol, despite his outward stoicism, inwardly could not help but recoil in horror, for he knew all too well; the prolonged suffering (of appalling shame, ghastly anguish) that awaited him in the depths of dungeons below before his life finally was terminated! His body, now defiant of his will, slightly trembled, and his knees threatened to buckle under him.  

“That’s a terrible way to die!” All eyes in the circle implored Egil Viggoaries. “This is not right; his crime is not grave enough to warrant such punishment. He is, or rather was, one of us.”  

Despite his ashen face, his quaking muscles, Zhadol Borym bit his tongue and clenched his fists, refusing to give Egil Viggoaries more of what he wanted, knowing in his heart of hearts that it would not do him any good. Even so, was there no one there brave enough to raise the slightest protest, the least objection for him? A fleeting tragic smile crossed Zhadol’s lip and then changed to a grimace of contempt as he looked. No, spineless cowards were all; he stood alone in all of this. After Zhadol’s eyes had searched the faces of his fellow associates, it had then abruptly caught Yennic's bewildered look and, fearing the worst for his partner, Zhadol turned his questioning stare back on Egil Viggoaries.

Answering the unspoken question with a venomous grin, Egil Viggoaries nodded.  

“How could I have expected any different?” Zhadol Borym lowered his eyes and ceded the point, pained that Yennic Zhiborym, too, awaited the same ill fate.  

  

(END OF SECTION 1)    

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC – THE CAPITAL CHANNING – SECTION 12

 

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

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

01 ZAUR STUGR JP 12b

 

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

02- ZYERNE STEWOR

 

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

 

                                                                                ~

 

 

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

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

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

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

                                                                                                                                                               

                                                                                    ~

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

03- - SANZO TESCAT (2)

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

                                                                      ~

 

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

 

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

 

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

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

 

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

 

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

 

“Yes, of course!”  

 

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

 

 

(END OF SECTION 12)