LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC- THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 11

Fradel, resolved to tell all, nodded and then solemnly confessed: "The venerable Zukan Rurik Korvald, in truth was my adopted father, who’d rescued me from the clutches of death and raised me as his own all these years. This fact was revealed to me on his death bed."

Svein empathetically listened to it, as Fradel gradually unfolded the threads of his confidential, distressing past:

Zukan Rurik Korvald, a celebrated scholar of his time, one faithful day on a return trip after visiting a close relative, propitiously (impulsively) requiring some respite, had had his boat moored on the banks of the river Tua, just a short distance from a bridge.  He had interrupted his journey craving also, to partake (imbibe) a particular fine wine (a special brew he’d procured from a winery), while absorbing proper appreciation of the marvelous scenery that enhanced that region. 

01- ZUKAN RURIK KORVALD

Subsequently inspired, he’d composed some brilliant stanzas that were later to be highly prized by the gentry; just before dusk, he’d laid down his brush and returned to his cabin to recline for a short repose (rest) when, the blowing of horns and the approaching thunder of hooves drove him back up on deck.

From afar, he had then witnessed the gruesome tragedy of two people, unfortunate enough to be caught on the bridge and, failing to clear the way, being trampled by Zakhertan Yozdek's unruly steed as he led his mounted contingent in a fearsome race over the hills, leaving a trail of dust behind. Overriding the protests of his boatmen, Zukan Rurik Korvald still sent his two trusted servants to the bridge to assess the damage and, perhaps, lend some curative help to the unfortunate victims.  As expected, their report of the couple's fate came as no surprise to anyone.  The couple had been trampled to death; however, the mother's quick action, as she'd used her body to shield her infant son from the deadly onslaught had spared the baby from a certain death.  The chief steward, not knowing what else to do, had returned with the scrawny, bawling infant in his arms.

The captain and crew put up a strong resistance to having the baby on board, arguing that this was no small matter.  Refusing to become involved, the captain had strongly advised Zukan to dispose of the infant along with his parents’ corpses into the river.

 "Field Marshal Zakhertan Yozdek,” he'd vehemently warned, "is not one to be trifled with.  You're a stranger to these parts; you don't know the half of it.  If you value your life, you'd best forget all you've seen today.  The law can't touch mighty Field-Marshall, so save yourself from sure future calamity.  This infant is not worth the serious trouble which it could beget, not only for you but for us all."

"Nonsense; no one is above the law!" Zukan had exploded.  Ordinarily a mild-mannered nobleman, he had regretted this outburst immediately and thus added calmly, "I'll deal with this in my own way, you will not be involved."

As a man of integrity and chivalrous character, the venerable Zukan Rurik Korvald had delayed his departure from this region thence, in order to appear before the local Magistrate, named Luoki, to demand justice for two unidentified, dead peasants.

 Magistrate Luoki and the other prominent local authorities, disgruntled atop quaking with fear, had shown reluctance, furthermore, banding together had done their best to discourage Zukan from this dangerous pursuit.  Discreetly, and unofficially, the scholar was counseled to leave well enough alone and was again told that Field Marshal Zakhertan Yozdek was too powerful a man to offend.

“This misdemeanor,” as they called the murder of two peasants, who were obviously also strangers to the region, “was too light a charge to even think of summoning Field Marshal Zakhertan before a rural court to give account.”

 The Magistrate had, meanwhile, wrapped up the case quickly and efficiently, after his subordinates had obtained (secured) false evidence from the boatmen and his crew, all of it substantiating the final verdict, the pronouncing of the couple's death, a deliberate act of a double suicide.   

Outnumbered, Zukan Rurik Korvald’s protests had, via other measures, been totally curtailed; he was rendered powerless to beget any justice for the innocent victims. In this way, though, local authorities and the deemed ungrateful Zukan Rurik Korvald, were shielded from the certain future wrath of Field Marshal Zakhertan Yozdek.

03-MAGISTRATE LUOKI

The matter thus summarily settled; the Magistrate Luoki demanded next, that the child be turned over to the authorities for his proper disposal.  Rather than surrendering, however, Zukan and his servants fled the area under cover of night.

Later Zukan had sent a trusted aide back to the region under disguise in order to make discrete investigations into the identity of the victims and about any prior (erstwhile) links (relations, possible family, contacts).  When this effort proved to be in vain, Zukan had embraced the child as his own and, since he was himself childless, named the infant Fradel Rurik Korvald.

Quite discontented with the rampant corruption under Zakhertan Yozdek's growing power, observing how the Field-Marshall’s hands gripped the nation's neck, choking tightly until the pulse ceased its flow; the indignant (aristocrat) scholar Zukon, had eventually been constrained (forced) to become a recluse.

Zukan's peaceful domain was so completely insulated that it allowed no outside infiltration at all.  Fradel had grown up perfectly schooled in literary skills and religion, cocooned in this tranquil atmosphere, oblivious to the harsh realities in the so-called civilized world outside.  The truth about his parentage was revealed to him only at Zukan's death bed.  Unfortunately, before the three years of mourning for the venerable Zukan Rurik Korvald was over and Fradel had fully explored his avenues of vengeance against Zakhertan, Fradel had been summoned to court.

Fradel at this point, falling silent, had pensively looked away beyond the curtainless window, to observe the night sky dotted with blinking stars.

"It is as I had expected,” Svein (Nevetsecnuac) just then rejoined with fire in his eyes, startling Fradel from his ephemeral brooding (ruminating).  "We share the same purpose, you and I.” Svein smiled and then nodded. “It may have started as a personal vendetta, but it has now gone far beyond that, hasn't it?"  Svein, next, answered Fradel's silent query. "Yes, my parents and all my family, too, were cruelly murdered by Zakhertan Yozdek."

Fradel gazed at Svein nonplused, realizing only then that, despite the intense and extensive interchange that led them to the brink of becoming sworn brothers, he still knew virtually nothing of Svein's background.  How far can I hinge on this blind faith?

But before Fradel could give voice to his thoughts, Svein inquired directly and with sincere concern, "Your courage and aim are both most commendable, Fradel; and I don’t wish to give offense, however, it is obvious that you lack both knowledge and skill in pertinent strategy, medicine, toxins or Martial Arts.  How do you propose to best (assassinate) this most formidable foe Zakhertan Yozdek? Lest I miss something vital, may I be permitted to learn of your plan?  Besides, I doubt that you have ever killed an animal, let alone a human being."

"You are quite correct in your supposition.” Fradel replied coolly.  "I've always been opposed to the taking of life.  I've espoused the philosophy of Zuox which holds that 'All life, its form and expression, is sacred.  They must be cherished and preserved.'  But that hardly applies to a villain like Zakhertan, a monster arrayed (clothed) in human form.  I'm well aware of the past, unsuccessful, numerous attempts on usurper Monarch's life.  Though I have comparatively little fighting ability, this inadequacy does not deter me from my noble aim.  I have the will, and I am prepared to die to attain justice for my parents and for my countrymen.  The monster must be made to atone for his crimes."  As he vehemently expressed his hatred of Zakhertan once more, he grew quite flushed, his ears burned, and his voice grew hoarse.

"You have echoed the sentiments of my own heart.” Svein responded thoughtfully when the other fell silent.  "But, Fradel, this is no small task, and it should not be taken lightly.  I, at least, was trained and conditioned since childhood for such a purpose while you were not.  Every fabric of my being stands in readiness for this fight.  Far be it that I should deter you from your just cause, but I fear that your noble attributes, exceptional courage may not be enough; why, then, should you throw your life away?”

"No.", Svein waved a dissenting hand to still the retort forming on Fradel's tongue.  "Please hear me out first.  A man can only die once.  All that I ask is that you postpone your vengeance until I have had a go at it first.  In the event that I should fail then it will be your turn.  By then, perhaps, you would have attained the necessary skill and be able to succeed where others before you have failed."

"I know that you mean well, Svein, and I will certainly take your words under advisement.” Fradel stubbornly replied.  "Still, being the least likely person to attack the Monarch, I would have the element of surprise on my side and may be more likely to inflict a mortal wound on him.  He is on his guard with formidable men (civil or military) with fine physiques, wary of fighters of all sorts (male or female), dissident scholars or any citizen with adverse views.  But he would never suspect a nature loving recluse such as I.  I’m aware of the fact that his elite security has checked me out thoroughly."  Fradel stopped and went over to his luggage and began rummaging around inside.  Finding what he sought for, he withdrew an antique-looking writing brush and presented it with a flourish.  "Besides, this provides me with the perfect means of killing him."

Suppressing a chuckle, Svein queried, "And how, may I ask, do you propose to use that?  However, genius a contraption, a concealed weapon in the form of a brush would be detected at once.”

Ignoring Svein's obvious misgivings, Fradel smiled wryly and pointed the bristles of the brush towards the headboard.  Instantly a small metal dart buried itself with a twang half-way into the wood.

 As Svein went to retrieve the dart, Fradel removed a small, wooden box from his pocket and opening it, announced, "This is no ordinary ink box.  It contains the highly noxious ink that can paralyze the heart within seconds of coming in contact with the skin.  Loading the brush for writing laces the tip of the dart and a concealed trigger launches it.  This trick should bring about Zakhertan's destruction instantly. “

04- FRADEL RURIK KORVALD

“I most certainly will be searched for concealed weapons before I'm brought into his presence, but they would not take away the tools of my trade; I need these to fulfill my purpose in being summoned there.  I ask you; would anyone suspect the simple writing implement of a non-political, scholarly recluse?"

"It seems you’ve given this a lot of thought.  And admittedly it’s the most ingenious device. The barbed dart is most cleverly camouflaged as one of the bristles.  Now suppose you are fortunate enough that it does escape the meticulous scrutiny (search) of the elite security. But the target may not be such an easy one to hit.  Zakhertan Yozdek is renowned for his military prowess; he's reportedly unsurpassed in agility, strength, and cunning.  Moreover, he might be wearing under his court vestments, light metal armor (cuirass, shield); you, taking that into account, no doubt plan to aim for his neck, hand or face. Nevertheless, with his incredible reflexes he may still successfully elude the dart and what then?    Have you an alternate plan to follow in this one's wake?"

"No!” Fradel stamped his foot in vexation.  In truth, he had not configured every possibility, and, Svein’s points had certain validity.  Going against such a formidable foe he should have devised a more plausible secondary, even a tertiary plan to fall back on in order to ensure his success.  He sat down to ponder with a sinking heart.

"Do not lose heart, brother, for I shall not fail.  The monster's days are numbered."  Svein lightly tapped Fradel's shoulder in consolation.

Svein's addressing him as "brother" recalled to Fradel’s mind, his earlier resolve.  Rising to his feet, he proposed that, since there were now no obstacles, they should take the oath of brotherhood without further delay; after which they could plan at length how best he and Svein, as individuals or jointly, could best serve their cause.  But it was now Svein's turn to (hesitate) show reserve; nevertheless, in the brief silence that ensued, Svein had swiftly resolved his inner quandary.  Svein sincerely addressing Fradel, first asked forgiveness for his prior deception, and then drawing near, in a low voice revealed the name of his mentor, Lord Asger Thuxur Marrow Zhon, and subsequently, confessed to his true identity.

Overcoming his shock, Fradel was about to drop to his knees to show his proper respect, when he was swiftly, courteously, stopped by Nevetsecnuac.  “Since they were practically brothers already,” Nevetsecnuac, same time had reasoned, “such formalities were quite unwarranted.”

"But I, the orphan son of lowly peasants, am unworthy of such great honor.  I cannot hope to ever become the sworn brother of a Prince (Nevtsecnuac Alric Therrain Valamir).” Fradel protested.

"You have now offended me deeply, brother.” Nevetsecnuac frowned.  “I never figured you to be so pompous.  After all that we have shared, nothing has changed between us."

 The emotion filled speech that followed, imbued with such humility and honesty so overwhelmed Fradel that, his eyes brimming with tears, he finally acquiesced.

In the private ceremony that followed, the Prince and the Scholar both fell to their knees facing south.  Voicing their petition to the Heavenly Gods, they swore an oath before them to be brothers for life.  After a small cut was inflicted on each one’s index finger, the dripping blood was then collected in a ceramic goblet half filled with wine.  Taking the cup in both hands, Nevetsecnuac ceremoniously presented it to Fradel, calling him elder brother as Fradel was five years his senior.  Receiving the cup, Fradel drank the first sip from it then, with just as much ceremony, offered it to Nevetsecnuac, addressing him as his younger brother.  After Nevetsecnuac had obliged, the cup was hurled against the fireplace and broke into a thousand fragments, sealing the oath forever.  The (sudden) just then rising winds outside vigorously rattled the shutters as if in shared joy and approval.

Nevetsecnuac and Fradel, now as brothers sat across from each other and toasted to their future success. As they partook the wine, they reminisced about family members and dear friends that could not be there; later still, slightly inebriated, they drowned their sorrows in yet more capfuls of wine. 

During this time Fradel was told of the great deeds and sacrifices of Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon, Lord Shonne Gulbrand, Lu Moldan and the rest, marveling at their greatness, loyalty and scope of heroic attributes, comparing each to the legendary historical figures.

As the topic gradually veered towards the exacting of vengeance, Fradel asked Nevetsecnuac if he had on him the special ID Permit, a vital official (two-part) document essential in allowing one access to Capital Province Holger and then to Imperial city Channing.

Nevetsecnuac shook his head in the negative, then asked, "An ID Permit? This is the first time I’ve heard of such a requisite."

"Just as I suspected,” Fradel nodded thoughtfully.  "But that's to be expected."  He went on to explain that few officials, never mind influential citizens, were aware of the necessity for such a certificate, even though its use had been strictly enforced by the authorities in the Capital province, Holger, for half a year now.  He recounted how he, himself, would have been caught unawares, had it not been for the Palace Guard's explicit reminder when he'd delivered the summons from the Court.

FRADEL

"I'm afraid that, without it, entry to the Capital is impossible.” Fradel intoned grimly. 

"This strict measure had been put into effect after a latest, nearly successful attempt on Zakhertan's life by a small group of very competent assassins.  I have heard undisputed claims that since then, Imperial City Channing has been sealed like a fortress, allowing no entry or egress without proper authorization.”

It was most fortunate, indeed, that we talked long enough for me to recall this important detail otherwise, being caught at the gate without this official permit; you would have instantly been apprehended for questioning.  Your aim would have been frustrated very early on."

"Then I must act to secure for myself such documents,” came Nevetsecnuac's decisive response.  "Can I rely on your guidance and assistance, brother?"

"You don't understand the degree of difficulty involved.” Fradel shook his head. 

"It's not a question of my assistance, brother; I wish it was that easy.  I'm afraid that these two-part documents can only be obtained at your birthplace and are issued only by the resident Governor for a considerable fee.  You must also produce at least three other notable residents as witnesses.  Even under the best of circumstances, such a process could not be completed within a month."

Fradel drew out the documents from their protective covering of waxed parchment and pointed an explicit finger to the top left corner of one of them where, sealed under gum Arabic, a provincial court artist had drawn the poet's likeness.  Nevetsecnuac's eyes followed, with increasing misgivings and a heavier heart, the list of Fradel's identifying particulars, his physical description, parent's name, age and birthplace and finally, at the bottom, the long trail of official seals.

06- NEVETS EXAMINES PAPER

"Due to the urgency of summons necessitating my prompt departure, the obliging Lord and the new governor, Mojen, spared me the time and difficulty of procuring necessary documentation.  Taking me at my word, they acted as my guarantors and expediently processed the ID Permit with all due haste." Fradel, pensively(thoughtfully), meanwhile, had continued. "Of course, even if I did have the ID Documents of my deceased servants still in my possession,” Fradel interjected, "their particulars are so vastly different from yours that, I'm afraid, they still would have been of no use to you."

Having recently buried the men, Nevetsecnuac concurred with a nod of his head; meanwhile, it had become clear to Nevetsecnuac that without proper verification, he could never obtain, not at any length of time, this kind of vital documentation. 

"What is to be done, then?” he gave voice to his fret (hassle).  "How can I beat this unexpected hindrance (hurdle)?  I must seek another ingenious means to override this serious obstacle." Nevetsecnuac distractedly followed Fradel's bold strides to and for, as the scholar presently paced the room in contemplation.

"But, of course!” Nevetsecnuac jumped up in elation.  "Why didn’t I think of this before?"

Startled, Fradel grabbed Nevetsecnuac's arm.  "What is it, brother?"

"The answer to our dilemma is right before us. The problem has already been resolved by none other than you, brother." Nevetsecnuac responded with a bemused smile.

"Me? How?"

"Elder Brother, it just struck me how similar in appearance we are.  For instance, are we both relatively of the same height and bearing and share similar facial features?  Fortunately, due to haste, the hair and eye coloring were not precise. With a beard, could I not pass for twenty-five?"

"What an idea!" Fradel chortled.

07 NEVETS AND FRADEL

 "I knew there was something about you I liked."  His eyes dwelt on Nevetsecnuac with a new intensity as he surveyed the prince’s features.  "Yes, it is possible." he had to concur.  "I must be getting muddle headed, strange how this simple solution eluded me."

"That's because, elder brother, despite all my previous reasoning you still harbor the desire to press on by yourself.  How stubborn you are."  Nevetsecnuac teased, shaking a finger at him.

Donning a long face, Fradel turned an aimless gaze to the crackling flames of the fire.  An inexplicable sadness just then, gripping his heart.

 

(END OF SECTION 11)

 

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 8

Once again, seated across from Serek Vern (Fradel), Dokurek explained, "I did not take that precaution for my own sake, you understand.  I know that you trust them, but one can never fathom the depths of another man's heart."  The old man shrugged.

The possibility of his men being informants was unthinkable.  They'd been with Fradel as long as he could remember but, so as not to antagonize Dokurek, he stilled the protests on his tongue and let the old man collect his thoughts.

"All right, I suppose I should start with the scholar Taok Therkan.", Dokurek commenced.

01- TAOK THERKAN

Taok Therkan, Fradel learned, was a brilliant, prolific writer and a just minister.  While still in his teens Taok had summarized his political thoughts in several brilliant works that were then circulated among the literati and politicians alike, winning him both instant fame and a reputation for controversy.

“But then with the political shift, the freedom of speech, once widely enjoyed under the old regime, was the first casualty, first tenet to disappear under the rule of Zakhertan Yozdek.” Dokurek dismally shook his head. “But hey, I’m getting ahead of myself…. Let me see, yes, from the first day Taok Therkan had assumed office; he had fought uncompromisingly against corruption in the court, continued to do so, right up to his untimely end.”

“Earlier on, becoming acutely aware of the deep roots of the corruption and the manifest danger to the reigning monarch Taok had, against all friendly advice, sent in his memorial, to His Highness Zuronghan Alric Therran Valamir.  In it he strongly advocated positive reforms to be carried out in the government that would have curtailed the influence and power of certain military and civil officials and their cohorts among the dominant gentry.  Though he had carefully avoided using any names, a specific reference to a matter overseen by the office of the Minister of War had earned the good minister Taok the undying animosity of Ovan Kustan.”

02-  MINISTER OF WAR OVAN KUSTAN

“Minister of War Ovan Kustan was not a man to be crossed.  With the cooperation of the Prime Minister, Morvald, and the blessings of Field Marshall Zakhertan Yozdek, he used his powerful clique at court to accuse Taok Therkan of such heinous crimes that his instant execution was a certainty.  However, the benevolent and wise Majesty (Zuronghan Alric Therran Valamir) favored Taok's integrity and suspected foul play.  His Highness ordered another independent, in-depth inquiry into the incident.  Unfortunately, the efforts of the investigators were obstructed from the start.  His Royal Highness Zuronghan Alric Therran Valamir, in his wisdom, still suspected a conspiracy, even though no proof could be obtained that would substantiate his intuition and extricate Taok from blame.” 

“Taking into consideration Taok's invaluable service to His Highness and the State, the extreme penalty was hence averted; Taok Therkan was instead, demoted to the rank of Census Official and banished to the remote frontier province of Birgerchi.”

Dokurek’s father had played host to the good minister on his way into exile; during which time, Taok had left such an indelible impression on Dokurek’s younger brother Yutzu that he decided to follow a literati pursuit instead of a military calling.

In exile Taok had continued to serve his Monarch with unwavering loyally for seven more years. Birgerchi prospered and citizens enjoyed lasting peace following Taok’s precedent guidelines of not accepting any bribes and benefiting from Taok’s expanded administrative obligations to run a judicious office. 

Zakhertan Yozdek, meanwhile, was amassing greater power through land acquisitions and secret military buildup, furthering his influence in Court through a strategic marriage to then Prime Minister Morvald’s younger sister Bera. 

“When news of the conspiracy by the Yozdek family to depose His Highness Zuronghan Alric Therran Valamir reached Taok’s ear, he made several attempts to contact the Monarch and warn him of the impending danger.  All his attempts failed, however, due to the Therkan family's interference.  The dominant matriarch of the Therkan family opposing Taok’s ideals successfully intercepted or killed every courier and destroyed every warning letter Taok sent to the Royal household.  Taok was then forcibly incarcerated in his own home like a criminal and forbidden by the Therkan family to interact with any outsiders until Zakhertan Yozdek had completed his plans to depose HRH Zuronghan Alric Therran Valamir.”

“After an episode of illness from which he nearly died, Taok suddenly made a remarkable recovery and, under the very noses of his powerful family, began a subversive movement.  His followers began distributing his unsigned works, exposing the treachery and brutality of Zakhertan Yozdek, the widespread corruption at Court, the hypocritical rule and the evil oppression of the present regime.” 

“These works helped rally scholars throughout the country to the cause of the restoration of the old Dynasty.  The timing was exactly right to favor their cause.  Zakhertan Yozdek's main concern at this time was with the consolidation of power within the workings of the bureaucracy and with crushing the pockets of resistance that had sprung up under a few rebel Lords, such as Lord Shonne Gulbrand.  On top of this there emerged a growing threat from the Alvacon Tribe in the Northeast Territories.”

“The intellectual leaders of this insurgent group were in the midst of plotting a major armed rebellion when a disgruntled new officer, passed over for elevation from the lower ranks, turned informant and alerted Zakhertan Yozdek to the growing danger.  The Palace guards were immediately dispatched under the strictest secrecy to bring Taok Therkan back to the Capital where he would be charged with treason, tried and convicted.  Zakhertan Yozdek wanted the list of all the leaders in his hands and, the precise details of the planned uprising, information his informant could not provide, even when subjected to extreme torture.

Unfortunately, Taok had received word of his impending arrest too late, to realize an effective escape.  What little time he had left he used it, to commit all the incriminating documents to the fire and to send words to others to stay clear.  He then torched his study with himself still at his desk.  The leaping flames quickly spread to reduce the whole house to ashes (cinders) within a matter of minutes.”

“The infuriated Zakhertan Yozdek responded with a brutal purge.  Selecting the ruthless Black Band Guard Regiment, he set them on one of our history's most vengeful, ruthless campaigns of suppression ever.  Pockets of resistance were quickly quashed.  All too unsuspecting scholars were rounded up and, regardless of innocence or proof of rebellion, were buried, layer upon layer, quite systematically in mass graves.”

“More than twenty thousand people suspected of collaborating with the scholars were killed in public spectacles of torture, slow strangulation, flailing, beheading, or were simply burned tied to a pole in the marketplace.  This vicious purge continued for a year after Taok's death with unabated, unequivocal force.  The subsequent three years of this witch-hunt were so severe that they threw the country into chaos and threatened national security.”

"In that dark, oppressive time there was no end to the atrocities, indiscriminate killings and mass poisonings.  Under such pressure many implicated their colleagues, neighbors and even blood relatives in order to lighten their own sentence or extricate themselves from blame.  Some, taking the law into their own hands, murdered the suspected dissidents so as to avoid incrimination by association.  The purges were so severe, none escaped Zakhertan Yozdek’s wrath."  Dokurek dropped his head, "That was truly a dark, dark time in our history.  History is what gives men a sense of belonging.  History is what distinguishes man from the wild beasts who have no awareness, no conscious past.  My father preached that all the time, yet I would gladly expunge (erase) that period of history from my memory."

It had become clear to Fradel that Dokurek carried in the recesses of his heart some burden of guilt.

"But, even after a supposed return to normalcy, a Royal decree muted everyone from expressing the least discord or criticism of the policies and harsh laws imposed by the new regime.  The consequences of the minutest disobedience were met by public execution of the offender and the extermination of their families down to the fourth generation, followed by the confiscation of all properties to be sold by the state.  You know where I’m going with this?” He suddenly looked up but resumed his tirade.  “Meanwhile, anyone, regardless of age or gender harboring fugitives or possessing any inflammatory forbidden books or pamphlets were deemed guilty and, without benefit of trial, promptly executed on the spot. All the reminder of their family members was then rounded-up, tattooed on the face and sent in chains to serve a cruel sentence of hard labor for life.” He shook his head dismally.

“And many, many more restrictions were also put into place, but it would take me too long to list them all.  Suffice to say, this was the most dangerous time to have any enemies; for the least discord would lead to a false accusation with incriminating evidence planted to ensure imminent destruction.  A few select schools were allowed to function in government facilities, under the strictest supervision and constant monitoring to ensure adherence to state propaganda.” He fell silent for a while, pondering on a concern.  But then dismissed it all with a wave of a hand and continued on, relieved to be releasing some of this pent-up anger and concern to a sympathetic ear.

"Officials failing in their duty to immediately root out the suspected dissidents and subversives from their area faced spontaneous demotion or banishment to the remotest regions.  Did I say this already?”  But again, not waiting for an answer resumed his narrative. “So, we all did what was required of us without thinking, without questioning.  In our fear we misinterpreted signs, heard careless words and..."

With a strange, mad gleam in his eyes, Dokurek dropped his head to stare at his palms then agitatedly rubbed them over his pant legs.  He raised his head but fell abruptly silent again and looked down.  Fradel with sympathetic concern observed Dokurek’s sudden new distraction, a frayed cut in his trousers, which he absentmindedly dug his index finger in it.

 Checking himself a moment later, Dokurek looked up and explained bashfully, "You know, at one time I would not have considered wearing a pair of pants more than once.  But now..."  He shook his head then, after a momentary silence, continued, "I've done a lot of things of which I'm ashamed, but I hope you understand.  I did them so as to survive.  That, and as well, I was misguided.  Alas, I came to know the error of my way a bit too late to do anything about it." 

Fradel gave a sympathetic nod, refraining from making any rash judgments.

03- YUTZU

Dokurek appreciatively continued on, how his own younger brother, Yutzu, had been recruited to the doomed cause of Taok Therkan from the start.  Remarkably, Yutzu had survived the purges to continue the underground struggle and become one of the leaders of the “Red Bandanna Resistance”.

"Of course I had no way of knowing this,” Dokurek protested. 

"How could I when, for nearly a decade, we had lost touch?"  He threw his hands into the air in animated exasperation. 

"Since childhood we have always been at odds on every issue.  We'd never seen eye to eye, never agreed on anything, however trivial.  I was always the pragmatist; he was the idealist.”

 “After the death of our parents, one day we’d had a dreadful row on a concern, I cannot recall what.  Meanwhile, we had both uttered words that wounded deeply and one, we could not take back and so, I divided up the inheritance and we each went our separate ways.  As far as I was concerned, he was a dead man. I forbade my wife, the household staff and others to never ever mention his name.  How was I to know he'd still drag me into the cesspool of his own misfortune?”

“As it was the most sensible thing to do, I enlisted in Zakhertan Yozdek’s service.  I saw His Highness as our savior, a charismatic, strong leader, one our nation needed badly for strength and stability.  I erroneously blamed the Sovereign Zuronghan Alric Therran Valamir for all the ills of society and the rampant corruption at court.  I swallowed the whole propaganda that deemed Zuronghan a weak, ineffective ruler who deserved to be toppled.  What can I say?  I was beguiled.”

04- DOKUREK'S WIFE KELI

"Ah, but that’s not all. Soon after my recruitment, Zakhertan Yozdek recognized my talents and put me to good use.  I was a brilliant and promising engineer, you see.  You are the only one who knows this, but I was the builder of these Pitfalls.  One in particular, I believe, was used to trap a prominent, influential traitor, or perhaps a member of the Royal Family.  Of course I was not allowed to see who, nor did I wish to know, for all who were directly involved were put to death immediately afterwards.  Too much information can be detrimental to one's health, so I kept my nose out of it.”

"After it was all over and the struggle for power ended Zakhertan Yozdek, settled securely on his stolen throne, rewarded me generously for my contributions. Even as the country was being swept by the putrid tide of the purges, I'd kept my head above water and had remained secure in my privileged position, untouched by it all."

Dokurek shook his head, "But Yutzu, again surfaced as the bane of my Life.  I should have expected it, really, should have known that he'd be at the crux of it all.  Too late I'd learned he was a rebel.”

"Yes, it all came crushing down on my head that autumn day when my once secure and comfortable existence came to an abrupt end.  You see, I'd been away from home on official business for several weeks.  On my way back I suddenly realized that I'd neglected to get my wife the usual gift.  She'd be expecting one.  I loved her dearly and had no wish to disappoint her.”

“Way before this, during the time of spring festival, as we’d strolled the streets around Hekoler Temple she had taken a fancy to an antique jade pin in one of the pawn shops there, so I steered off course, to see if I could purchase it for her. “

“Oh, you can imagine my surprise when I discovered on sale there another piece of jewelry, a jewel encrusted necklace I had given my wife for her twentieth birthday.  But the pawnbroker's records were in order, after some serious negotiations he named a satisfactory sum for it.  Containing my fury, I purchased it back and rushed home to confront my wife with it.

"Would you believe it, there was another surprise waiting for me there, my cursed brother!  I needed no explanation; I knew then the cause of my wife's indiscretion.  I lashed out at him Like a mad dog, letting lose all those years of pent-up anger and disappointment.  During this heated exchange he shouted his defiant, treasonous tenets right to my face. Was I supposed to believe his embroidered yarn?  Supposedly, after his meeting with the other surviving leaders of the underground, he'd succumbed to an attack by bandits on his return journey.  Being stranded in this province without any means of getting back, he'd swallowed his pride and came to ask for my aid, though I suspect it was my wife's sympathies and help he was really after.  Surely, he would have gotten away with it too had I not returned home earlier than expected.”

"Overcoming my shock, livid, I was about to revile him further and threaten him with disclosure, just to scare him, mind you, when a noise outside distracted us both.  At once I rushed out to investigate but found no one there.  Nevertheless, I was terror-struck!  I knew the calamity or ruin this portended.  So, in frenzied fear of my life, I had him bound and gagged.”

"Seeing him again after such a long time, I confess, had rekindled within me the deep brotherly love I'd later supplanted with hate.  However different our views, he was still my little brother.  I paced the floor, to and for, in sheer panic while I pondered on the appropriate course of action.  I debated whether to turn him in to the authorities or to arrange for his escape.  I did not know just how much the spy had overheard and just how much this would implicate (incriminate) my family and my wife.  She had run off to her boudoir in tears before I could question her.”

“I was robbed of any decisive act however when the sudden presence of armed guards at my door was announced.  I was mortified when I learned that they already had the house surrounded and carried a warrant for the arrest of my brother and my wife.  And yes, I too was carried off to be charged (of this crime) as well, before the magistrate.  After a lengthy questioning and with some finagling I managed to establish my total innocence and loyal intentions, after all, Yutzu was already bound and gagged ready to be turned over to the authorities.”

“In the end it was my impeccable service record and the fact that I had been away and only just returned from a business trip that absolved me from blame.  Unfortunately, despite my best efforts and numerous bribes, I failed to extricate my wife from serious culpability.  In the end she was judged guilty of being an accomplice.”

04-ZURONGHAN ALRIC THERRAN VALAMIR

"The informant who had turned us into the authorities had trailed my brother for some time and compiled serious, incriminating data.  Furthermore, his damning testimony against my wife could not be refuted.  She'd been quoted as saying that her sympathies lay with the insurgents.  She'd loudly reviled the Yozdek regime and promised my brother her full support.  All this was news to me.  I had no idea that she understood politics much less that she had so passionately harbored such treasonous views.  I felt utterly betrayed and, what's more, despaired for my children's fate.  I only hoped that they were too young to have been contaminated by their mother's misled loyalties.  It's a funny thing with women; they seem on the outset so mindless, so frivolous..."  Dokurek dropped his head and, after a moment's pause, swallowed hard, holding back the welling tears.

He continued in a choked voice, "I was the ignoramus of true facts and real politics.  I was the one who had been misinformed, a misled, utter fool.  My brother was tortured to death.  He suffered an agonizing end, and I was made to watch it all, watch to his final hour, when he was no longer in any recognizable human form, watch until his last, labored breath expired.  He died once but I’ve died a hundredfold.  For days thereafter the pain seared my soul. I could not forget his eyes; those accusing eyes have left such an indelible gash in my heart to this day.”

“To my further shame, I was even too frightened to claim his body for burial and left it there for them to dispose of in the usual way.  His mutilated corpse was fed to the wild dogs at the nearest crossroads.  Because of my cowardly act I had been spared, but I could only guess at the terrible fate that awaited Yutzu's wife, my niece and nephew.  I prayed that their end was swifter than his had been, as swift as that of my wife's corpse that was left impaled on a soldier's spear at the same crossroads.

"Despite my acquittal, I was not let off that easily.  In the end my entire property was confiscated, and I was banished to the remote frontier with my two sons to live out the remainder of our days.” 

 

(END OF SECTION 8)

                                                                                      ~

 

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 7

For the remainder of that morning Svein, riding alongside Fradel, had respectfully kept his silence understanding that a serious grievance was at the root of Fradel's reverie. 

NEVETSECNUAC

Most appreciative of this quiet, Fradel struggled hard but without avail, to dispel the gruesome, vivid images forming in his mind's eye: The mound of earth, overgrown with grasses and bush, the old man sitting at its edge, perfectly motionless, the gnarled walking cane resting unused on the earth beside him; these visions still persisted in haunting his peace and try as he might, after all this time, he could not purge his heart of a dogged, all-consuming despondency and guilt.

Currently, Fradel’s mind yet again ruminated (cogitated, recollected) of that long ago, the unpleasant happenstance (twist of fate, quirk) which should have been ordinarily locked in his subconscious psyche. Fradel inhaled deeply and sullenly harked back to that time when on route to Terek  he’d, sighting a solitary seated figure some distance down the road, assumed the old man to be asleep or in a trance; but, when a shaft of sunlight suddenly peeped through the dense rain clouds, Fradel’s acute vision had then noted the glistening tears streaming down the man's pale, wrinkled, sunken cheeks.  Now ordinarily, he would have sent his stewards to make inquiries but, propelled by an unexplained, strange desire, he’d dismounted at the edge of the roadside. As he was hot, he first took off his garment’s (top) outer layer and, handing this and the reins of his stead to one of the stewards, meanwhile, (ignoring) paying no heed their strong protests, ordered them to stay put, then went forth to investigate.

 

 As he advanced towards the old man, he’d for a spell, experienced some trepidation but kept on with determined steps regardless, climbing the rocky, uneven hillock, till he had reached the sorrowful being.  Halting a few steps back, he'd respectfully bowed in greeting, introduced himself as gently and politely as he could, however, giving him a pseudo-name Serek Vern, which Fradel had adapted wishing to be anonymous during his travels, and then, inquired about the old man's health and possible needs.

The old man appearing oblivious to it all, had at first, remained perfectly still. 

Fradel (Serek), nevertheless, being reluctant to leave him in that state, he’d advanced ever so slightly closer and was about to accost him anew when the old man sharply raising his head, seething, glared at this bothersome, pesky stranger.

Dokurek, which Fradel Rurik Korvald later came to know his name, had initially acted with uncalled-for hostility.  His cold, gray eyes had burrowed fiercely, contemptuously into Fradel's and lingered there, scrutinizing him, for a long spell. 

At the time, the icy, hateful gaze, like a frozen blade, had stabbed at Fradel’s empathetic heart!

Even after some elapsed time, while Fradel had assumed he was making inroads with Dokurek, the old man, with obstinate hardness, had retained his original skepticism of Serek’s (Fradel's) ignorance of the common facts, of his naiveté and his motives.  But, gradually, bit by bit drawn out of his shell, he’d thawed, then eventually entrusted Serek (Fradel) with the truthful accounts and factual answers to his persistent inquiries. 

It turned out that Dokurek's two promising scholar sons had been buried alive beneath that nearby mound along with some three hundred and twelve other literati.

This revelation shook Fradel, then and to date, to the core of his being. He’d never been the same since.

"And, make no mistake about it,” Dokurek had nodded gravely, pointing a bony finger, "this mound is but one of many.  Yes, many, many, more, most containing even more corpses than this, exist scattered throughout this great country of ours."

 Dokurek, moreover, added with such bitterness in his voice: “They even built roads over some, so tread carefully young man, the next time your path crosses one of these.  They have no respect for the living, why should they have any for the dead?"  Inclining his head downwards again, he'd scoffed contemptuously, as hot tears once more glistened in his eyes, but he’d bit his lip angrily to stem them.

Noting disbelief in Serek’s (Fradel’s) eyes, he’d swallowed hard, then grinding his teeth, announced sourly, "And secretly, ever so secretly, it's still going on!" His face was contorted with pain and anger, yet he could not stop now.  "When the scholars suffered such a fate, you might ask, what became of their families?"  He shook his head vehemently, "I'll tell you what!  Some were banished to the frontier where they were sold into slavery, some into forced labor or killed outright and all, without exception, had their property confiscated.  And why the hell not…There is great profit to be had in this sort of vile undertaking by the greedy, grasping patricians (nobles, aristocrats).  In many instances they fabricated charges to fill their coffers and to construct a powerbase.   In these dark times, justice is always trampled underfoot by the selfsame rapacious bureaucrats.  A slander without proof in the ears of the right person would be sufficient for a court of law to proscribe the victim.  On pain of death, who would dare mount a defense or champion the righteous cause?”

It became clear to Fradel that the old man was speaking from bitter personal experience; and that he, too, had fallen prey to the greed of akin official.

"And I thought he was a close friend!"

 Fradel raised his eyes from the old man's clenched fist to see him staring once more in the direction of the mound. 

"And to think my son held him in such high esteem!  Bah!” Dokurek turned angrily to spit on the ground.  "Curse you, and a curse be upon your whole family!  May you and your descendants be cursed forever in Hell?"  Dokurek's chest rapidly rose and fell in fury, until he finally grew a bit calmer.

"The reason for these atrocities...  How is it possible, you may ask?  Ah!” he fixed his dubious, pained, angry pupils above his deep-set, gaunt(boney) cheeks on Serek Vern (Fradel Rurik Korvald).

 "Have you had no knowledge of these sort of vile deeds at all, none?  What about the foul happenstance (coincidence) that had reportedly claimed Taok Therkan’s life?” Dokurek asked skeptically.

"Taok Therkan?” Fradel furrowed his brow, and then confessed to, in his remote dwelling having scant news of the famed scholar, save for once, being lucky enough, to have come across one of Taok’s brilliant essays. Impressed, he’d sought to procure more, with no result; meanwhile, the mystery, the silence surrounding the scholar Taok Therkan had never been satisfactorily explained to Serek Vern (Fradel) and he, at present, implored Dokurek to enlighten him on this subject.

Dokurek shook his head, "It's inconceivable to think,” he looked straight at Serek Vern, considering: “how could your family have been spared this ferocious, evil tide that has swept the nation?  I know of this from the mouths of many, that these long years have been anything but brutal to all Literati. Why should you, your family be spared? And now standing before me you lay claim to knowing nothing?  No, you're false!  Worse, you must be an informant, a spy!  Is it conceivable that you are sent by that cursed Zaur to...?”

 Dokurek looked down to hide the sudden manifest disdain from his eyes then fretfully, stealthily looked about him.

 His eyes rested on Serek Vern 's servants, then narrowed into slits.  "And why should you be bothering with the likes of me?  Why not sic one of your dogs on me and have done with me?  Or is it your delight to first toy with your prey?"

 He turned an angry, defiant gaze back at Serek Vern only to meet the scholar's somewhat indignant, perplexed face.

 Dokurek immediately regretted his suspicious outburst.

Fradel had surmised later how, at this point Dokurek was filled with a great need, a burning desire to believe in someone, anyone, while the flames of his life-force still burned in him. His past misjudgments had cost him dearly and rendered him cautious, distrusting all; now and always seeking, expecting some sinister motive behind every kind of gesture. 

For a time, the old man had remained nonplused, shaking his head and mouthing half-crazed, barely comprehensible mumblings as he turned a deaf ear to Serek Vern's gentle arguments. 

"But there is nothing to be gained in trapping me.  It was not my will, my wish that my sons were scholars.  Besides, what do I possess now?  In my heyday, sure, I had substance then. Even ten years ago I had means, holdings to be coveted.  I commanded such respect!  But now…now I have nothing, nothing of any value or use to anyone.  Nor do I have any surviving affiliates left to be targeted.”

“But then, hmm, yes, you do look the kindly, honest sort. Suppose I take a chance?  Perhaps I've been too hasty in suspecting you?  I mustn't let my paranoia cloud my judgment.”  Dokurek continued mumbling to himself as though Serek Vern (Frade)l was not there.

Fradel, in exasperation having fallen silent, threw a cursory look at his impatient men and then thoughtfully looked down; in fact, he was (considering) of a mind to leave this insane old man when, catching the last part of what he had said, convinced Fradel to persevere just a bit longer.

 “Yes, you may be my very last chance."  Dokurek suddenly ceased his mumbling and decisively looked up. His eyebrows unraveled and he made a genuine effort to smile in a friendly manner.

"Forgive my obstinate ways, sir, but you can hardly blame me.  It's all the more incredible that you are a bona fide scholar.  No doubting that.  I'd even venture a guess that you come from a long line of illustrious scholars."  Allowing Serek Vern (Fradel), no chance to agree or dispute his statement, he nodded vigorously, "Furthermore, my eyes can attest to the truth of your claim that you are a stranger to these parts and that you must have led a life of seclusion, that’s why I’ve never heard of your name, a self-imposed recluse perhaps?"

 Serek Vern’s (Fradel's) reaction confirmed this guess and reassured, Dokurek leaned back, smiling.

 "Also, your distinguished attire, your decorum and fine, polished speech makes it all too evident that you are a well–off gentleman, perhaps an aristocrat.  A recluse scholar from an undisturbed sanctuary who has managed to prosper in these volatile times, an anomaly?” the old man shook his head, amazed.

Despite the tinge of sarcasm in his tone, Fradel had read no malice in Dokurek's face.  This perplexed him more.  And what did Dokurek mean by 'very last chance'?

Dokurek cleared his throat then in a softer tone rattled on, "You are so unassuming, so patient and not the least bit arrogant.  You have a great disposition.  You are by all appearances a good man, not unlike my Kuer.  Still, all the more reason for you to beware!"  He fixed his intense gaze at Serek Vern (Fradel) and said a bit more forcefully.  "You watch yourself young man!  Guard your words, his spies are everywhere.  His policies may undergo yet another change, and quite suddenly, too.  Then you're gone.  Pouf!  In one day.  Or worse still, it may all be a hoax, a scheme to finally entrap you.  I'm curious, though, what part of the country did you say you're from?  Which remote region was it that you hid in?"

Fradel had made no such claim, but his denial was cut short by a gesture of Dokurek's hand.  "No, don't tell me.  I'd rather not know.  Such knowledge is of little use to me now, anyway.  It's enough to know that there is some small corner of this Empire that was spared, where the forces of evil could not wreak havoc."  Dokurek abruptly fell silent and looked away, his eyes resting on the two small mounds nestled under the swaying branches of a willow tree.

 After a time, Dokurek turned to face Serek Vern (Fradel) and with eyes brimming with fresh tears, reiterated his warning, "You must beware!  It's too late for my boys and it's too late for me.  I've got one foot in the grave already, but you..."  He smiled warmly at Fradel.  “I can't emphasize the importance of this enough.  He's like a jackal, a wild beast on the prowl.  His poisonous tentacles reach the four corners of the Empire, and it makes no difference what service you may have rendered him.  Disaster can befall you at the most unexpected turn. Under his rule, all manners of evil flourish and you can never, ever anticipate when the next catastrophe strikes!  So, it’s best you remain vigilant in safeguarding your life.”

Fradel was distracted just then by a debased snigger (snort, chortle) from his servants who had drawn close and were very much engaged with their heads pressed together in animated, amused mockery.  More infuriating still, Fradel’s ears picked up the steward’s disdainful ridicule, "Crazy as a Cakook!"  As if to demonstrate he then stood up, flapped his elbows, craned his neck and began drawing circles with his toes on the ground as he mimicked the bird.

 In mid twirl his eyes caught Fradel's fierce look of reprimand.  Chastised, the servant froze in his position. Similarly, the rest also cowered with stilled tongues and abjectly bowed their heads. 

When Fradel turned his eyes back to the old man, he found Dokurek keenly studying him.

"I'm right about you.  This time I'm right.  My salvation may just be at hand.” he mumbled then quickly looked away to escape Serek Vern’s (Fradel's) questioning gaze.

This time it was Fradel's turn for skepticism.  Had this all been a well-orchestrated performance, a charade on Dokurek's part?  Was he testing me?  Testing me for what?   Fradel had heard of cases where men touched by madness would slip into and out of reality, one minute sane as could be, the next, steeped in peril and precarious, imaginary fantasies.

As if surmising this, Dokurek looked up at Serek Vern (Fradel) and smiled wryly, "I wish it were so but, alas, my penance is to remain completely sane, mindful of all my past wrongdoings.”

“All right, I will tell you everything.  I've kept my silence long enough…but not here, not within earshot."  He indicated Serek Vern’s (Fradel's) servants with a wary look and a point of his chin.

 He rose and Fradel, signaling his men to stay put, followed the old man to a distant spot.

 

(END OF SECTION 7)