LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION - 12

"But what’s with this entire hullabaloo (commotion) over scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald?"  Yennic's question grabbed anew Nevetsecnuac's full attention.

 "Why has he been drawn into this conflict?  I mean, why he specifically, when more brilliant, articulate poets reside close at hand to His Highness?"

01- BRILLIANT SCHOLAR

"I know who you're referring to,” Zhadol grimaced wryly, "but he would hardly do.  It’s not the quality of the Scholar's work that is in question here.  Well, maybe a little bit."   Zhadol shook his head.

"More specifically, Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren’s recommendation of Fradel Rurik Korvald was politically motivated.  He aimed, of course, to further ingratiate himself in Her Ladyship's good graces while she still enjoys the good graces of His Highness.  Since Lady Sejon has acquired a certain fondness for this poet's earlier works and was intrigued by his elusiveness, his required presence in the upcoming event is merely an exercise in power."

"Is it as trivial as that?" Yennic smirked.

"Trivial it may be, but Fradel Rurik Korvald is another strategically placed pawn on the game board of the two rival factions.  Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren knows, and cultivates, Her Ladyship's particular dislike of Egil Viggoaries and, as already her favored uncle, he aims to…"

"I understand." Yennic interrupted impatiently and completed Zhadol’s line of reasoning. “Lady Sejon, an enchanting beauty (of about twenty-three years old, with clear blue eyes and long wavy, golden hair,) is the Emperor Zakhertan Yozdek’s most recent, favored, chief consort.” Yennic could not resist boasting of his knowledge, so he simply rattled on.

02- LADY SEJON YOZDEK (2)JP

“She is particularly important, since she is also the mother of fourth Prince Prince Magnian, who is by all accounts, a little darling, captivating all courtiers ‘hearts at five years of age. Besides which Lady Sejon also happens to be the P.M Lamont Gudaren’s much beloved, deceased, third sister’s daughter, is she not? The Prime Minister, through her, hopes to effectively slander His Excellency Egil Viggoaries; however, if Fradel Rurik Korvald fails to appear for the summons, it will reflect badly on Lamont Gudaren, and Her Ladyship's tolerance of failure is not unlike that of His Highness."

"Precisely," Zhadol nodded.

"Still, Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren has no doubt-built safeguards against this inevitability." Yennic asserted his fresh argument.  "He wouldn't launch any idea without first having a foolproof backup in place.  Besides, aren't you always counseling me not to take things at face value?  It’s no secret how the Prime Minister's tentacles extend far beyond the Court itself into several provinces where, as I understand, several governors and viceroys are his clients. “

“At least twice Egil Viggoaries's age, he's nevertheless calculating and far-sighted and his political strategies are supremely effective.  He has a hand in most of the conspiracies.  His agents are dispersed widely across the Empire such that there is little that escapes his attention.  But so far, his forces and wide influence have been seemingly kept in check by His Excellency Egil Viggoaries who, rightly so, is shrewder and far more ruthless.  Am I right?"

"Yes, yes.  Why are you telling me what we already know?  What's your point and what do you mean by 'seemingly'?

"My point is that contrary to P. M. Lamont Gudaren’s belief, what if Dwengzur is, in fact, collaborating in one of Egil Viggoaries’s diabolical plots and we've been sent on a false trail, chiefly to get us out of harm's way?  Why should it be inconceivable that, in this instance, even His Excellency may be duped with the diversion of an upcoming assassination attempt on His Highness?"

"A conspiracy… Is that what all this has been leading up to?"  Zhadol shook his head.

"That's highly improbable and, I should say, too premature.  Even if Dwengzur did secretly align with Field Marshall Yonku, Chancellor Tiver and the rest of the Prime Minister's despicable lackeys against Egil Viggoaries, it would be sheer madness for them to try anything.  The forces that have been dispatched, including us, constitute a relatively small contingent of the Elite Divisions.  The main body, as far as I know, is still stationed in the Capital and our absence has not even made a small dent in the scope of things."

03-COMMANDER ZHADOL AND HIS LIEUTENANT YENNIC

Relentlessly, with a calculating gleam in his eye, Yennic inclined towards Zhadol and suggested, "Still, we've been quite out of touch here, Zhadol.  Suppose that, after our departure, the rest were dispersed as well on other pretexts."

"You’re not suggesting… the Imperial Guards?” Zhadol shook his head.  "Not likely.  You know they can't be bribed.  And there's the flaw in your hypothesis.”

“Besides, despite the low profile His Highness prefers to keep, he still maintains absolute rule in all facets of the Government and the Military.  Everything is closely monitored and passes only when it receives His Highness' seal of approval.

“Zakhertan Yozdek’s Secret Police, aside from the Internal Census Bureau, are so potent that no one would dare make the slightest move.  They would cut down the instant they tried anything treasonous.

"Oh, but what a fantastic imagination you have!" Zhadol laughed heartily, throwing his head back.  "You always manage to entertain me when I'm least expecting it, brightening up my darkest moods.  I confess, for a moment there I almost took you seriously.  You almost duped me into thinking you were in earnest.  Go on; elaborate more on your conspiracy theory if you please."

Yennic was thoroughly annoyed at the Commander's condescension but, with an effort, unclenched his fist and masked his fury.  Grimacing sheepishly, he played along in shamed naiveté, "Yet His Highness allows the two factions that contend for power to grow in strength daily."

"In fact, His Highness encourages it."

"Is that not disruptive to the State?" Yennic asked wide-eyed.

"On the contrary," Zhadol smiled knowingly, "I should think that it strengthens the State."

“Quite right,” Nevetsecnuac acknowledged. “As long as these two are kept feuding with each other, there's no danger of either of them usurping the usurper.  It’s a simple, but effective textbook strategy.  The moment one of them topples the other, the overconfident victor, in his exhausted state, can easily be vanquished (eliminated)”.

"All right, then, maybe it’s not a national conspiracy.  Maybe it’s you and I that are targeted.  Maybe we're the ones who are being set up." Yennic growled  his insistent, despondent retort.

Strangely enough, at that moment a cloud of concern brushed Zhadol’s face.  He knitted his brows and, narrowing his eyes, studied the Lieutenant intensely but, shaking his head to quickly disperse the questions and suspicions that invaded (encroach) his mind, he rebuked Yennic, "You're talking nonsense again.  I don't see why.  Even if it was his intention to rid himself of us, there were ample other avenues, more plausible and less costly alternatives that could have been (employed) utilized."

04- NEVETSECNUAC  UP IN A TREE LISTENING

“His intention…”  Nevetsecnuac was intrigued.  “Was that a slip of the tongue?”

 

"Besides, you're overrating your own importance."  Zhadol turned sharply and, despite himself, sneered maliciously at Yennic.  Obviously, something of what was said had touched a raw nerve in him.

Yennic wondered, “Could some of the rumors that have been circulating have some validity after all?  If so, there's too much at stake here.  I mustn't act rashly.”

Yennic knew enough when to back off.  Rising in silence, Yennic began pacing back and forth, irritated.  “It had taken him many long, painstaking months to worm his way into Zhadol’s confidence.  Jeopardizing that now would have far more serious repercussions, yet his impatient nature gnawed at him, egging him on to act now… All right, how about a different angle of approach?”  He stole a sidelong glance at Zhadol, who was lost in thoughtful silence with his blank gaze, all the same, tracking Yennic.

Halting his steps abruptly, Yennic turned and said, "Well, if that cursed scholar is going to show up, I wish he'd hurry up with it.  The men have been quite restless for some time for some serious action.  They may prove unruly if we wait much longer."

"Now, Yennic, are you really speaking for the men, or for yourself?"  Zhadol, quite disarmed, smiled and stroked his beard.

Yennic looked away in agitation, not returning the smile.  Hand grasping the hilt of his sword, he turned his fiery gaze back on Zhadol and stamped his foot like an impatient child. 

“Yes, I admit it; I’ve had just about enough with all this waiting.  My sword is thirsting for his blood.  I can hardly wait to present his learned head to His Excellency."

"Why, I didn't realize that you were so ambitious, Yennic."  Zhadol frowned with mock displeasure to lighten the other's mood.  "Are you, by any chance, now planning to go over my head and curry favors from His Excellency for yourself."

"Oh, I wouldn't be so presumptuous."  Yennic rushed over to sit beside the Commander and shook his head.  "Nor would I have the nerve.  I know fully well my own shortcomings, and I've seen something of His Excellency's whims and tempers.  I wouldn't have a prayer for a chance."  Looking into Zhadol’s eyes, he added in a sincere, earnest tone, "I'm far safer where I am; under your good guidance and your protective wing."

Pleased with this unexpected praise, Zhadol smiled and nodded.  Fixing his gaze on the other, he counseled him in an affectionate, concerned voice, "Don't take this to heart, but you really are too impetuous for your own good, Yennic.  You know that don't you?"  He waited for the other's nod of assent before he resumed, "Granted, I was once just like you.  I, too, acted rashly, bursting with youthful vigor but now, things are far more complicated, far too dangerous.  You say that you'll never go over my head to curry favor with Egil Viggoaries."  He shook his head and raised his hand, "No, wait!  I suspect that you firmly believe that now but one day, when you've outgrown me, that will be your intention.  I'd like to caution you beforehand not to act too rashly.”

“Don’t make the slightest move until you're ascertained your-self tenfold of the outcome.  Egil Viggoaries 's inner circle, I'm referring to the Black Molochs, play for serious stakes and, if you're not strong enough, they'll swallow you up, crush your dignity and strip off your self- respect beyond any repair.  I've had my own share of regret and pain in the past as I came up the ladder.  I thought that I was ready, too, when I entered the playing field," Zhadol could not hide the bitterness from his voice, "but they exposed weaknesses in me I never knew I had.  I'm fond of you, so I want you to take the counsel of one who's already been there.  If nothing else, I'd like to spare you from my own (humiliation and) heartaches.”

“For now, however, you would do well to exercise caution, cultivate perseverance and curb your ambition a little.  You're bold, too bold for your own good if you ask me."

"Old age has made you weary." Yennic teased to lighten the gravity of Zhadol's mood but, seeing the frown on the other's face, quickly retracted his gibe.

 In a sincere tone, he added, "I do appreciate your concern, Zhadol, and I promise I'll mend my ways… all right?”

Zhadol was appeased and, the next moment, they had both put their heads together in an animated, inaudible conversation.  Yennic gesticulated wildly and went on, his lips twisting into a provocative smile one minute, a savage sneer the next.

Nevetsecnuac was about to take his leave when Yennic asked with clear concern, "The trouble between you and Egil Viggoaries, tell me, has it passed?  Are you back- in- his-good- graces now that you've been invited to that?"

"Ah, that's it; it’s finally out!"  Zhadol smiled coldly, interrupting the Lieutenant.

 "So that's what's really been praying on your mind all night?  I'd guessed as much because of what happened, but you need not have taken such a roundabout way to it.  Why didn't you just come right out and ask me at the start?"

Seeing the uselessness of denial, Yennic conceded with lowered head, "I wasn't certain how you would react."

This may prove interesting.  Nevetsecnuac nodded and decided to stay a while longer.

"All right but first tell me the exact details of what you have heard concerning this,” Zhadol prompted (pressed) Yennic.

"Nothing too specific," Yennic grunted.  "Only that you defied His Excellency's wish on some matter or other and that he was seriously cross with you."

"And that was enough to give you cause for alarm?"

"Certainly," Yennic nodded.

"It’s very good of you to be so concerned about my welfare," Zhadol smiled broadly, "but I assure you, things have been pacified.  You needn’t worry about me any longer.  I haven't survived this long for nothing, you know.  However, don't think for a moment that I haven't paid dearly for it."  Zhadol gritted his teeth and absentmindedly rubbed the back of his neck.  "You know how Egil Viggoaries carries a grudge.  I suspect that, one day, it will all come back to haunt me all over again and compound my miseries.  My mistakes are tolerated somewhat at present because I have not yet outlived my usefulness and because I once meant something more to him."

"As well, being one of the twelve of the Inner Circle of the Black Molochs helps." Yennic interjected.

"I have well-earned that distinction!"  Zhadol studied the Lieutenant from the corner of his eye.

"No one would dispute that.  At least you were once his favorite." Yennic mumbled, envying Zhadol’s position.  "Precious few can own up to that prestigious, most coveted distinction.  Surely you can't discount the benefits you've reaped, the favors you've received from the ones who have rushed to ingratiate themselves with you?"

"Do you think that this was a privilege that made up for all the warring, truculent existence and degradation?"   Zhadol shook his head, smiling bitterly, "You don't know what it is that you’re wishing for.  You can't imagine what I had to go through and do; to what ends I was driven to satisfy his perverse appetite for suffering."   Zhadol dropped his head, as if in shame.   "Some of the things he made me do!"  His features crunched up as he meekly ejected, "Yennic, even now, I can't bear to even think of them."

“Yet you call me ambitious!” Yennic scoffed under his outward visage of sympathy.

"After all that, after all I'd done for him, how readily he turned on me that night!"   Zhadol looked up, indignation firing his eyes.  "It is true what they secretly whisper about him, that he is devoid of any decent human feelings, least of all compassion.  And his cruelty, his cruelty knows no bounds.  He feasts on bloodshed and delights in humiliating others.  Hah, he's a carbon copy of one whose name I dare not mention aloud!  Many a time I was the unfortunate target of his rage, those sudden and violent outbursts but..."   Zhadol abruptly fell silent.  "We've got company," he whispered as he jutted (stuck out) his chin pointing in the direction of a pair of watchful eyes.

Yennic stirred slightly, clutching the hilt of his sword, and was about to suddenly spring into action when the gleaming eyes receded in a flash and darted back into the bush.  The next instant two pairs of scuttling feet were heard pattering into the distance.

 Zhadol grasped Yennic's arm, holding him back.  "Let it be.  Foxes are strange, unpredictable creatures."  He nodded thoughtfully as the Lieutenant complied, settled back.  "You want to know something, Yennic?  Egil Viggoaries has a strange passion for them; it may even be called an obsession.  It may have something to do with an incident that happened when he was barely seven.  He had accompanied Zakhertan Yozdek on a hunting expedition to Kaporelon.  Seeing this as a mark of privilege and high favor, Egil Viggoaries was determined to prove his own worth."

"Wasn't he then made to…,” Yennic looked down, bit the corner of his lip then quickly added, “to punish the spirited animal that had given them quite a chase?"

"So, I've told you about it already,” Zhadol grimaced.  "According to Egil Viggoaries, he did it unflinchingly and so earned the regard of His Highness and the respect of the other courtiers.  However, one of these courtiers, long since dead, once told me the young Egil Viggoaries had lingered over the task, his eyes like glass, his heart turned to stone, as he then relentlessly pushed to complete it, just to gain Zakhertan Yozdek’s approval.  The experience, however, had left an indelible mark on young Egil and had far more serious repercussions than he would ever care to admit.  Perhaps at the time he’d secretly felt an innate kinship with the trapped beast, whose resilience had been likened to one of his prior experiences.  One thing is for certain, all who knew him commented afterwards on how he had returned from that hunting trip with a cast-iron confidence, stone heart, and resilient (hardy) character."

 

(END OF SECTION 12)

                                                                                    ~

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 14

After Magistrate Yakove Zewe’s departure, Judicial Commissioner Birgergu Gunt had ridden his closed carriage at breakneck speed to the residence of his good friend the Provincial Governor Rexi, in order to submit a report.  On his arrival, however, he was informed that the Governor was away on a short pleasure trip and was expected to return in a fortnight.  After leaving a message with Rexi's trusted aide, Birgergu returned home not in the least bit ruffled by the distant smoke and the glow of the fire on the horizon; subsequently, he entered his study in order to manage some pertinent neglected matters. First, removing a specific document from his locked cabinet, he placed it under the lamplight and perused it carefully searching for key correlations (crucial parallels, any links) or discrepancies between its account of facts and the detailed report of the Magistrate’s.

All was in accord, save for one: the glowing description of the stranger's horse remarkably resembled Yakove's account of Fradel Rurik Korvald's mount.

 It could very well be a coincidence. This gave Birgergu no concern as, shrugging his shoulders slightly; he put the reports aside and picked up another document from the pile for examination. Despite his outward calm, however, he was inwardly fuming over the failure of the bandit's attack on Fradel, which now complicated matters greatly.  He frowned, thinking of the berating he would get from the hot-tempered Governor, and then his thoughts reverted to Fradel's letter.  Dropping everything, he rang for his trusted steward and verbally relayed his wishes to him.

That night a cloaked figure quietly stole through the darkened alleyways to rendezvous with another whom, scaling the city wall with a cat's agility, vaulted onto a waiting horse and galloped into the hills.

At dawn the next day Birgergu's trusted aide handed him a packet.  After examining the contents in his study, Birgergu donned (gave) a wry smile and cast both the letter and its wrapping into the fire.  A short time later the aide returned with an urgent message from the Governor and Birgergu made haste to respond to the summons.

 

                                                                                  ~

 

"I don't want to know anything about it!" the Governor Rexi raged at Birgergu with icy finality.  "Just get it done!"

"It has already been taken care of, Your Excellency." Birgergu assured him.

"Then why do you bother me with this?"  Rexi shoved (thrust) the report in Birgergu's face. 

"I have no time for such trifles.  You are dismissed."  Before the Commissioner of Justice could even respond Rexi turned his back on him and stormed out of the anteroom.

 "I'm surrounded by incompetents.” His voice trailed off as he began to muse: 

How can I ever gain favor with His Excellency (Eunuch) Egil Viggoaries when a simple matter like this cannot even be resolved.  That idiot Birgergu assured me of Fradel Rurik Korvald's demise; that he would disappear without a trace.  He's as incompetent as that doltish brother-in-law of his.  They've both managed to botch things up oh, so perfectly!  I should have taken the matter into my own hands from the outset, instead of relying on that idiot.

His steps had led him into his private chambers.  Entering in a huff, he sank his heavy frame down on the couch.  Seeing his foul mood, the servants all kept their distance, all but hiding in the corners.

03- PROVINCIAL GOVERNOR REXI

Seething in anger, Rexi reflected on the origins of the Eunuch's orders, the ongoing struggle between Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren and the Minister of Internal Security Egil Viggoaries, as each vied (contended) for significant clout (portion of power) at Imperial Court.  Viggoaries's latest attempt to undermine Lamont's inroads with the emperor’s favorite concubine, Lady Sejon, had led to the confidential word sent to him to oversee the Eunuch's interest in the matter of the Lady's favorite poet, Fradel Rurik Korvald.

 Rexi still remembered his delight at accepting the task and his assurances of prompt, favorable results.  Angrily he stamped his foot to purge his mind of the ugly, stubborn trepidation (foreboding) of the possibility of dud (failure), but the persistent, gnawing doubt and the consequences of a repetition of Birgergu's inability (incompetence) to set right what, by now, had gone so terribly wrong, so terrified him that all the blood drained from his face.  A cold shiver ran down Rexi’s spine, as his mind viciously fixed on the notorious reputation of Egil Viggories’s brutish intolerance of the least flop (failure). Springing to his feet, his brows stubbornly knit together, he paced the floor in agitation.

"What is it, darling?" the bewitching beauty but half his age mewed.  Her eyes still puffed from sleep; she had parted the bed curtains alluringly.  Though it was nearly noon, she yawned and stretched, settling back into sleep.

How beautiful she is!  This enchanting siren was a recent acquisition from his previous excursion.  Recalling the pleasures of last night, a smile grew on Rexi's lips, and the color returned hotly to his cheeks.  Going over, he gently sat at the edge of the bed.  Her sweet perfume assailed his nose, intoxicating his senses and enticing him to fondle her cheek once more.

"Oh, let me sleep!" she purred.  "I'm tired.  You wouldn't let me nap at all last night."

Grinning mischievously, he followed her under the covers as all his previous concerns and fury dissipated in her scent.

                                                                                       ~

At cockcrow that morning, as Birgergu received Fradel's letter, Magistrate Yakove and a few of his close associates had raised parting toasts to the scholar and had escorted him to the city gates.  Despite his protests, Fradel had been constrained to accept the protection of a squad of fifteen stout, well-armed bodyguards under the leadership of a lieutenant Zujor.  They were to deliver Fradel safely to the borders of the province.

With the walls of the great city long since lost in the distance, the party of seventeen traveled the lugubrious road at a canter for half a day, each cocooned in their thoughts.

 The uninspiring, desolate ground they traversed was but occasionally dotted with naked hillocks and the monotony left them riding in the miasma of a dream.

Fradel's reverie meandered to thoughts of his blood brother, Nevetsecnuac Alric Therran Valamir, and a troubled expression crossed his face.  To purge his heart of this longing and regret, he turned his gaze to the limitless sky, not heeding the refreshing wind that caressed his exposed neck.  He watched with misty eyes the white, billowing clouds as they converged, then parted, and then sailed (wisped) away across the sky.  When he lowered his gaze and looked ahead, he saw a small, scrub-covered knoll in their path, a precursor of a number of undulating, forested hills that skirted a great mountain whose peak seemed to scratch the clouds.

I don't remember ever having crossed such a mountain. Fradel reflected, surveying these strange surroundings.  Yet, if it was the guard's aim to injure me, they could have done it long ago.  Opportunities had abounded on that desolate path, so devoid of habitations or inns.

 He was about to query the stone-faced horseman alongside him regarding this choice of route when, quite precipitously, Fiery Comet halted and refused to advance any further.

Misconstruing this delay as Fradel's intent, Zujor left his scout and approached to reassure the scholar.

 "The reconnaissance bodes well.  The forest extending beyond these hills is clear of any danger.  If you desire, sir, we could take a short sojourn here and lunch in the shade of those trees."

Before Fradel could respond Fiery Comet, in another surprise move, suddenly bolted off on a course tangential to their line of advance (intended direction).

Zujor shouted Fradel to stop as he and the rest of the guards simultaneously fell into a hot pursuit.  That same instant a shrill whistle was heard from behind the woodland hill as a large body of armed brigands poured onto the road, brandishing their swords, charging by with the force of an avalanche out to bury its prey.

 Only the scout stood on his ground, a look of mute surprise froze on his face as his head hit the earth.  Alarmed, Zujor ordered two of his ablest men to forge ahead after the swiftly disappearing Fradel as he and the other dozen wheeled their horses about to bar the road at a defile between two hillocks.

"And just where do you think you're going, knave?" Zujor bellowed at the top of his voice.  So fierce was the lieutenant's cry that the point rider's horse stumbled, toppling its rider to the ground.

"Clear the way if you wish to live!" boomed the voice of the new Bandit Chief, as he whipped his horse to the fore.

 "Our business is not with you.  We only want revenge on the cursed scholar Fradel."

  As he brandished his sword his men let up a mighty yell to spur their murderous charge.

"You'll have to go through me and Hell first!"  Gritting his teeth the brave Zujor glowered at the new Bandit Chief as he steadied his horse, and his squad lowered their lances to meet the charge.

 The fierce fighting and bloodletting that ensued lasted several hours. Swords flailed the air and spears thrust out like pumps as the horses' hooves churned up the turf.  Though lieutenant Zujor and his men were all competent fighters, their adversaries, the bandits, were impregnable (in numbers) and unsurpassed in their cunning and maneuvers.

 When Zujor's strength ebbed, he was mercilessly cut down, sliced clear through from shoulder to waist and the four remaining guards dispersed in panic in all directions.

A small force was allocated to hunt them down while the main body of bandits, responding in one voice to their Chief's command, forged ahead after Fradel.

Riding their superb beasts on the wind, they soon overtook the two guards.  As a few stayed behind to engage the soldiers, the rest chewed on the dust trail Fradel had left behind.  The distance between Fradel and his pursuers widened further with every minute.  Fiery Comet, unequaled in agility and speed, pushed on until, diving into the wall of the forest, they were both lost to human sight.

For countless hours the relentless bandits scoured the dense forest, an evil place with hidden dangers of its own where ancient trees dramatically screened out the sun or altogether, turning day into night, blotting out the sky.  A lookout, climbing to the top of the tallest tree, ardently surveyed the area beyond the forest with his eagle eyes until finally, he spotted a lone, snaking trail of dust in the southeast that disappeared into a crevice between two hills.

 Racing towards it, they traversed a great distance until the strengths of both men and beast were spent beyond their endurance.  It was as though Fradel had been swallowed up by the earth or had vanished into thin air.  With the valley veiled in the shadows of twilight they set up camp, not daring to concede defeat and resolved to continue on with their search at the first break of day.

 

(END OF SECTION 14)

 

                                                                                       ~

 

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC- THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 10

                                                              

When the long, arduous day's ride finally brought Fradel and Svein (Nevetsecnuac) to a fork in the road, they veered to the left. This path eventually brought them to an old, established Inn.  Fradel at this point graciously prevailed upon Svein to stay the night there as his guest, to allow him a chance, as he put it, to reciprocate in small measure for the kindness he had received.  Most anxious to continue on his way, Nevetsecnuac was of a mind to refuse but Fradel's elegant, charming, polished manner of speech and his sincerity intrigued him and so he acquiesced.

During the course of supper in a private enclave of the dining hall, mollified by warm food and drink, they entered into a most delightful and enlightening discourse.  Moreover Fradel, for the first time in a long while, reveled in the fervent exchange of a superior intellect that shared his viewpoint of life in general.

 As the evening progressed, Nevetsecnuac listened with rapt enthusiasm and enjoyment to the pearls of wisdom which issued forth in an endless string from Fradel's mouth as the scholar entered a more relaxed and inebriated frame of mind.  Once in his elated mood Fradel had even composed, on the spur of the moment, a poem to commemorate their meeting and this budding friendship.  Nevetsecnuac listened with delight, finding something new to praise with every quatrain.

When it was his turn to respond in kind, Svein (Nevetsecnuac) quickly composed a short, brilliant piece that was so greatly appreciated by Fradel that he drew out his writing implements and copied it to a piece of silk so he could carry it with him next to his heart.  By then both were feeling euphoric from the wine.

Feeling the need for some fresh air, Nevetsecnuac was about to go outside for a stroll and enjoy the full moonlight when his keen senses suddenly alerted him to an eavesdropper behind the partition.  Edging nearer he discreetly brought this to Fradel's attention.  The two exchanged knowing glances.

 Svein (Nevetsecnuac) tensed, about to spring into action and teach this snoop (eavesdropper) a lesson he soon would not forget when Fradel gripped Svein's shoulder and decisively shook his head.

 Why should they bother?  After all, spies planted in sporadic locations were the norm.  With unspoken understanding they continued their conversation as before, soon driving the ignoramus behind the wall into a stupor.  With this objective gained, they quietly slipped outside for a bit of fresh air and a more liberal exchange.

Their feet crunched over the stubble of sod as they skirted a small, wooded area to find a pleasant, open spot wherein to converse more freely.  One topic led to another till Fradel’s unexpected sullen disclosure, of the reason for his journey to Court, was revealed.  Secretly elated at this fortuitous opportunity, Nevetsecnuac asked if he may, upon returning to their rooms, be permitted to view the Official Summons.

"But there is no need for you to wait; the moon’s luminosity makes it perfectly apt for reading it here."  At once Fradel Rurik Korvald produced a leather envelope from an inner pocket and, withdrawing a parchment scroll, presented it to Svein.

Svein in swift succession read the contents which went something like this: 

“PUT FORTH BY THE SPECIAL RECOMMENDATION OF HIS EXCELLENCE LAMONT GUDAREN, PRIME MINISTER OF WENJENKUN, AND THE HONORABLE ZAUR SUI, VICE MINISTER OF THE OFFICE OF CEREMONY: THE ILLUSTIOUS SCHOLAR FRADEL RURIK KORVALD IS HEREBY SUMMONED TO APPEAR BEFORE THE ROYAL COURT IN AUDIENCE BEFORE HIS MOST GRACIOUS IMPERIAL MAJESTY, EMPEROR OF WENJENKUN, ZAKHERTAN YOZDEK.  ALL SUBJECTS OF HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS ARE HEREBY ORDERED TO ALLOW FREE PASSAGE AND RENDER ALL REQUIRED ASSISTANCE TO THE BEARER IN HIS SUBMISSION TO THESE ORDERS.”

 Appended to the script was the date of his required appearance, various seals and the insignia of the Office of Ceremony.

Despite his cool outward demeanor, a raging fury welled up in Nevetsecnuac's chest. "Hmm.", was his outward, seemingly impassive response however, when in the end, he handed the scroll back to Fradel. 

Silence reigned as each pondered on the next move. Neither of them wanted to head back, quite content with the tranquil solace darkness provided.  Then with mutual intent their feet began to guide them towards the cluster of trees with only the sound of loud crunching underfoot.  Somewhere an owl hooted. The two halting, cast their gaze to that distant pitched spot, lost in profound thought. 

Multifaceted emotions again suddenly taking hold, Fradel chewed the corner of his lip in bitterness and indignation. "I've been forced out into the world out of my serene existence and lost three good servants on what is probably a momentary whim on Zakhertan Yozdek’s part.  It’s more likely that, by the time I reach the Capital, fickle political winds will render all my crowning literary work superfluous." Fradel had unintentionally grumbled his complaint out loud.  He smiled abashedly.  “Dokurek's right, from everything I’ve seen or heard; Sovereign Zakhertan's moods are as changeable as the wind, a misbegotten, accursed wind!” 

Fradel walked to the edge of the creek, squatted and, dipping his hand into the cool, refreshing water, let it run through his fingers before he touched his lips. Pondering on the recently implemented policies of leniency, touted as a new age of furthering of the Arts, Fradel now discounted it as a passing phase.  His new knowledge gave it a limited life span, a policy he should be wary of.  He took no comfort knowing that he was relatively safe from any danger or reprisals.

 No wonder his work had been so highly praised in the Capital, it was harmless and decidedly non-political.  He hung his head deeply perturbed and a bit ashamed.  Unwittingly he had been a collaborator of the ruthless usurper and murdering cronies. 

Oh, villainous times, villainous Zakhertan Yozdek!

 Suddenly it became clear to him, what, he must do. A yearning, no, an overwhelming urgency beckoned him to act on it now. But instead, he felt frustrated, stymied by the distance to the Capital that could not be traversed on mere will.

Patience!  He nodded, as at that moment an overwhelming loneliness flooded his heart, washing away his anger. 

Could he not at least unburden his indignant soul to this Svein Therran?  He discreetly eyed Svein.

Instinctively, from the very first moment Fradel had laid eyes on this hero rushing gallantly to his rescue, he'd felt overawed, and trusting of this young man.  Svein was quite unlike anyone he had ever come across.  Destiny had brought them together for a purpose, he was sure of that.

NEVETSECNUAC RUSHES TO RESCUE

This feeling, that they were of one heart and mind, had persisted despite Svein's reserve and guarded words.  Again, he half turned and looked, this time more closely at Svein, who with a lowered head appeared lost in thought.

What ails, you, friend? Fradel inwardly queried, as he rose to his feet and walked back.  He had resolved to confide in Svein come-what-may and learn at the same time of his companion's grave concerns.  He needed desperately to bear his soul to another soul, to purge this oppressive guilt and shame from his heart and perhaps even gain some measure of absolution; yet when he made the attempt, as if in defiance of his will, the words stuck in his throat. 

Have I the right to involve him?  Fradel hesitated. Gallant, the hero that Svein was, he would hasten to help him once more.  But what if he's implicated anyway, on account of this brief association with me?  Should I at least warn him of the probable danger that lies ahead?  Fradel looked away and frowned.

Back then while travelling on the road, Fradel's deep lines on his face, and his detached disposition with sporadic, silent musings had already betrayed his raging inner conflicts, to Svein (Nevetsecnuac).  He could rightly guess at what was at the root but only now, resolved himself to broaching the subject with Fradel. 

This mutual intent resulted in the subsequent moments with Fradel gradually and with increasing ease, unburdening himself of his concerns, his innermost, private thoughts all save that of the revised purpose of his trek to the Capital.  After the release of some pent-up anger, Fradel continued, wallowing in self-reproach, to disclose how his heart was laden with oppressive guilt after being blinded for so long to the ugly, painful truths.  While his privileged, carefree existence had allowed him to compose frivolous poems and essays in adoration of idealized beauty and nature, worthier literati had been persecuted ruthlessly and made to suffer the torments of the damned for their outspoken loyalty and fearless outcries for justice.

Clearly, he was suffering from survivor’s guilt and was seeking condemnation; but Svein appeared non-judgmental through it all, responding only with words of solace.  His reasoning and wise arguments eventually restored to Fradel the peace of mind and the absolution he'd so desperately craved.  What’s more, Svein's timely disclosure that he, too, had just emerged from seclusion and his candid confession that he was just as ignorant of the events of the last two decades, bonded the two in everlasting friendship. 

Fradel was elated to know that he was not caught alone in this web of ignorance, despair, guilt and soul sapping dilemma.  His brain at once crowded with a million urgent queries wanting to know more; however, understanding Svein’s reserve he restrained his curiosity and instead, related Dokurek's tragic story which started it all, to Svein.

FRADEL

Svein (Nevetsecnuac) listened in silence touched by the narrative.  Sharing the same indignation, inwardly and vehemently they cursed Zakhertan Yozdek and his evil regime, each resolving to avenge the suffering masses.  Echoing their thoughts, gusting winds just then arose, stirring dust and debris up into their faces while the moon took refuge behind the congregating billows of clouds.

The mounting chill of the antagonistic night eventually forced them to return to the inn for warmth and shelter.  They quietly entered their room, taking care to then to startle awake and next, aptly deceive the spy with their unending, monotonous(dull), trifling verbal exchange.   Eventually claiming fatigue, Svein and Fradel bedded in their respective places; they then patiently waited for the spy to leave his post and presumably, be on his way to relay his lackluster(dull) report to his superior. 

 

Long after the spy’s retreat, in the small hours, as sleep still averted Svein and Fradel, the two got out of bed and once more sat across the table; putting their heads together, in partial darkness, they then began conversing in earnest. It was then that Fradel Rurik Korvald related all the pertinent gossip and anecdotes he’d picked up along the way; as well as some of his atypical experiences after he left Dokurek's burial mound.  These later events in part paralleled those of the scholar's purges.

The roaring wind outside thrashed the branches wildly against the window shutters and created such a noisy pandemonium that they felt freer to delve into more dangerous (issues) topics. In this way, by and by Svein (Nevetsecnuac) came to know how all religious affiliations save the ones embraced by Zakhertan Yozdek, over the course of his reign, had been systematically rooted out (purged), their leaders banished and with the temple structures all raised to dust or ash, the barren lands (real state) were then acquisitioned by the new gentry (nobility).  

Meanwhile, number of cities had been wiped out (erased from the map) on Zakhertan's whim, complete villages burned or plowed into the dust, all, for building of military strategic strongholds, for personal gain or for simply to gratify a trifling private vendetta.  One such example, the Lexox City, once boasting the finest historical sights of the last dynasty, had its walls pulled down, the buildings demolished, and the stones used to fill its moats.  Its common citizens had then been sold into slavery, once prominent members (those that had defied Zakhertan during his ascension to definitive power) mercilessly slaughtered, dismembered or decapitated, in mass executions. 

“Adding insult to injury, countless lives were lost even in the surrounding regions on an ongoing suspicion of supposed intended uprisings, (though never validated,) or on a mere technicality,” Fradel fumed. “In order to build more military throttleholds, monopolies or to establish byways to supply provisions or to foster commerce.”

This grievous matter more than others had fueled Fradel seething rage and when he sought to gain solace by visiting Zaurr City that held such vital historical significance, a place known for its monumental beauty and tranquility, he'd learned to his still greater dismay, that it too had suffered a similar fate some five years earlier.  In this case a river had been diverted from its course, flooding the city to construct a reservoir to feed the fields of a Yozdek clan landholder.  The city inhabitants, long outspoken in their opposition to Zakhertan Yozdek, had not been warned of the coming flood and so had perished at their daily tasks.

Svein next learned that, in the name of supposed progress even the masses loyal to Zakhertan had suffered untold hardships. But not the aristocrats, those unconscionable ruffians Zakhertan favored, were left alone to indulge in their princely, morally corrupt lifestyles.  In the last decade a labor force of more than 900,000, consisting of those sentenced to penal service or awaiting punishment, were rounded up in order to build the mansions of Zakhertan and his ennobled relatives. Thousands more were routinely conscripted, torn away from their families and homes, their lands and businesses sold for a song; most never returned home for they died in the process of building the new defenses, the straighter highways and causeways needed to expedite the transportation of grain, armies and taxes between the Capital and the provinces or, to simply pave the way for lucrative commerce.

On the grandest scale, in Chusek and Phoseknez Provinces, topographies were permanently altered as hills were razed, valleys filled up, rivers diverted while areas deemed expendable were flooded.  Large segments of the population were systematically dislodged, relocated elsewhere as Zakhertan saw it fit.  Fradel had witnessed the results of this unnatural meddling in the landscape with his own eyes and had learned then how it had reportedly been done to foster the right conditions for some privileged noble's summer retreats. Yet the enforced censorship of the bureaucracy in books and schools, theaters and the decorative arts had carefully weeded out the truth and replaced it with outrageous, blatant fabrications masquerading as undisputed fact.  History was being re-written to favor this present regime and to condemn the previous one. 

"Deception raised to an art form," Fradel gnashed his teeth, then closing his eyes, reflected how, in the previous year in Bejno Province, just outside the Capital city of Channing, they’d appropriated (seized, confiscated) hallowed land, and then unconscionably exhumed age old graves, to build yet another strategic fort.  The few who had so much as raised an eyebrow at this sacrilege had been promptly silenced then disposed of in such a way as to serve as a deterrent to any such repetition.

"Oh, cursed Zakhertan, the worst villain!” Fradel had unwittingly cried out at this point, the brutality of it churning his stomach.  His fists clenched in seething hatred, he hissed through his clenched teeth, "At last the time has come for you to pay for your crimes!"  Then, becoming suddenly aware of his surroundings, donned a bashful smile.  "You must think me mad?"

"No.", Svein (Nevetsecnuac) answered thoughtfully.  His tone was quite explicit, and the word carried deeper implications.  Then, meeting Fradel's questioning gaze he answered him. "We carry the same purpose at heart."

“Did I hear you right?”  When he met Svein's steely eyes suddenly new hope sprang up in Fradel’s heart.

NEVETSECNUAC

 Fradel stared at Svein intently for a long while, utterly silent, a million questions crowding his mind and a thousand lined up on the tip of his tongue.  But, just as suddenly they faded to inconsequentiality as a strong, unexplained feeling supplanted them.  In a burst of elation he declared, then and there, that, since they were truly of one heart and mind, they must become sworn brothers.

"That is also my own heartfelt wish." Svein acquiesced as he reached across the table and gripped Fradel's right hand.  "I feel as though I've known you all my Life.  It's only right that we become brothers."

"Quite so, quite so.", Fradel returned the pressure of the handshake.  Then, a shadow of uncertainty and pain loomed suddenly in Fradel's eyes, plunging him into guilty silence for an awkward interval.

"What is it, Fradel?" Svein (Nevetsecnuac) asked, concerned.  "Pray tell me of your reserve."

"I fear I have not been entirely honest with you." Fradel, his voice quivering slightly, confessed with his head hanging low.  Then he raised his keen eyes to burrow them into Svein's, adding, "Before we could take the oath of brotherhood there can be no secrets between us.  I must bear my heart totally, unreservedly to you."  Fradel shifted in his seat to gain a proper balance.

 

(END OF SECTION 10)

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