11- LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - EVIL PERSONIFIED - SECTION 14

Qarzten Caimund’s shrewd policy of routinely checking beyond the official records of everyone, who had entered government service in Capital Channing, had yet again proven fruitful. Especially since, his hand-picked expert team in no time at all had uncovered lost bits of interesting facts about Nijel Pinng; that, an astute Censorate official had incidentally, purely by accident discovered, just before his suspicious death from a sudden stomach ailment (rupture):  that Nijel Pinng was the illegitimate half-sister to Lady Sejon. 

 

01- KENON RIEN

On further inquiry Qarzten Caimund had found the circumstances of Nijel’s life unfurling like the plot of a lowest currency denomination, a marketplace performance (play):

Sejon's aristocratic, philandering father Kenon Rien, had once passed through Moulon Province and result of one nights’ unbridled passion, with one of that region's rare beauties an innocent young girl named Arnora, he had begotten (produced, precipitated) the illegitimate twin offsprings.

 

02- ARNORA (14)

As the beauty Arnora was, unfortunately so far below Kenon's station/class, instead of doing the honourable thing, Kenon had through intimidation (bullying, strongarming) secured the mayor’s (village burgomaster’s) and her parents’ silence and instead arranged, well before her pregnancy showed, for her to be hastily married off to an aged but respectable Esquire Niet Wanner. The Esquire’s young wife had recently passed away because of a fever, leaving behind a wailing infant girl, which was Sejon. Such things did happen in the remote villages.

At the time, the Esquire Niet Wanner was in his mid fifties, and Arnora barely eighteen years old. Despite the age difference, Esquire Niet was a gentle soul and so treated his new bride Arnora with gentle respect, tolerance, and adoration.

 

In this blissful co-existence, laughter, and music once more permeated through the halls of Esquire Niet Wanner’s modest size, three story-mansion (villa); and typically, during this harmonious period Sejon experienced the unconditional love from her stepmother Arnora- alas, it was not to last!

After the nine month’s pregnancy, Arnora had opportunely expired from a complication of a difficult birthing. The case of her sudden, unexpected demise, was expediently covered up (without the knowledge of Esquire Niet Wanner); this, with secretly dispensed generous bribes from the Rien Clan, therefore, permanently silencing the attending physician, the mayor, and the other pertinent (relevant) local officials.

 

03- ESQUIRE NIET WANNER - JP

Esquire Niet Wanner, meanwhile, was utterly devastated by this terrible loss, for he had from the first, been besotted (love-struck, smitten) with his enchantingly beautiful young wife; now, considering himself unlucky or jinxed, he swore never to wed again.

Consequently, the three infants, Sejon and the twins were thus placed in the care of a wet-nurse Luse, who had providentially (conveniently, luckily), when the old nanny suddenly succumbed to an accident, by falling down from a flight of stairs and breaking her neck, in Esquire Wanner’s household: At that juncture, Luse had showed up seeking employment as a wet-nurse.

Luse, claimed her Scholar husband, she, and their seven-week-old infant son, had just happened to have arrived at Moulon Province; unfortunately, result of a boating accident, she had lost them both. Furthermore, she had no other family in this region, she was now stranded here, left all alone to fend for herself. In truth, Luse had been secretly handpicked by Kenon, and furnished with documentation this background-story, to keep an eye on what he deemed was his property, till more apt measures could be implemented.

 

04- WET-NURSE LUSE

Qarzten’s men had also uncovered, that Arnora had in fact, as Qarzten Caimund had suspected, been murdered on Lord Kenon's implicit order; after her father Tom Raygard, in his desperation, had attempted to, unsuccessfully, extort funds from Kenon Rien.

As consequence of heavy flooding that year, his crops had failed miserably and he stood on the brink of ruin; more importantly, Tom Raygard had lacked the essential funds for the medical care that was required to preserve his wife’ life. Farmer Tom, as he was known to most, was a decent sort but was forced to this despondent (extreme) measure.

Tom Raygard in his unrelenting pursuit of justice for his  deceased daughter Arnora, meanwhile, anticipating Kenon’s diabolical aim, had just made up his mind to confess all about the unlawful coercing which had forced him and Arnora to accede to the demands of  Kenon Rien and to warn Esquire Niet Wanner of the more current hidden threat from Rien Clan, pertaining to his infant twins.  Before he could act on this however, his aim had been abruptly, promptly thwarted (foiled, terminated); when during the violent, stormy night, a lightening struck the roof of his homestead, setting the structure completely ablaze. The ensuing (resultant) fire had gutted the decade old, partly decrepit two-story wooden farmhouse within seconds and, everyone previously tugged in their beds on the second story (floor, level) being unable to get to safety, had perished.

 

05- TOM RAYGARD -JP

There had been two or three mutely (wordlessly, murmured) raised, though quickly supressed queries (questions) about the spread of the fire being far too rapid; thus, feasibly precipitated by intentionally (purposely) placed tinder or a flare, it had unfortunately, tragically begotten multiple fatality.

Definitely one irksome speculation, in fervent whispers, had persisted; this,  founded on  an offhand remark, an accusation, from a bold constable- that besides the conflagration (inferno) caused by the lightening at the rooftop, there was also, though beyond coup (reduced to ashes, embers) scant evidence (trace) of strategically placed kindling that had proliferated (burgeoned) the seriousness of devastation from above and below.

Afterwards, these annoying inklings (whispers, notions) too were checked; particularly since the ultimate result had conveniently (for the aristocrat Rien Clan,) tied up the reminder loose ends. The matter was expediently wrapped up and filed away as consequence of natural disaster; this, so as not to impede (hinder, hamper) Kenon Rien’s future political ambitions.

Sejon, however, was soon to be orphaned herself as the Esquire Niet Wanner, a week before his suicide, had acquired an insurance policy with an efficient, fearsome organization covertly known as the Brotherhood of Kozurs. The powerful federation (association, alliance) that had operating members, even at the farthest reaches of the Wenjenkun Empire, for a minimal cost, discreetly (prudently) addressed without fail, extremely difficult and all outstanding injustices. No one, however powerful, could escape their deadly talons; two days hence, the invincible (indomitable) Kozur assassins sent the aristocrat Kenon Rien to accompany the Esquire in death, but on an ignominious journey, straight to Hell!

The twins, meanwhile, because Esquire Niet Wanner’s had overlooked this eventuality, had been successfully secreted away (abducted), the moment of Niet’s demise; this order was issued directly from the top echelon of the Rien Clan, which considered the twins, akin Kenon Rien, as Clan ‘property.

Subsequently, twins were separated; the fate of the male child was still a mystery, the girl however, had been successfully traced by Qarzten Caimund’s competent men, to the household of a Magistrate Ronian Keru in Moulon Province, now under the suzerainty of Lord Shouzi Yozdek.

 

06- MAGISTRATE RONIAN  KERU OF MOULON PROVINCE

Qarzten  Caimund had long suspected this region (the Moulon Province), to be a hotbed of insurgency, as well as criminal (illegal) activity, though regrettably, he had lacked solid evidence to indict His Lordship Shouzi Yozdek of a serious breach or a treason. As Ronian Keru was on his concise list of conspirators, Qarzten Caimund had been keeping Nijel under surveillance way before she had showed up in the Capital.

About a month ago, Qarzten’s patience had finally (paid off) been rewarded when his agents had intercepted a letter from her former master who, despite his leave of absence for health reasons, was still the pawn of his Lordship Shouzi Yozdek. Alas, the coded message had been more difficult than usual to decipher and though Qarzten Caimund had a special team working on it around the clock, to date there had been no real progress (reported).  

As it were, this setback had come closely on the heels of another more devastating one. A while ago the only sure evidence against Shouzi, an incriminating letter written by him to Kujoge Yozdek, had been the means of an extortion attempt on the Lord. This letter had been traced to a freelance spy identified as a Ms. Jepipi. Just as Qarzten Caimund’s operatives had been about to close in on her at the bustling port of Kenzo, she had mysteriously vanished along with her trackers. The trail of the letter had gone cold from there on.

Of course, Qarzten Caimund could have incarcerated Nijel Pinng, on the charge of gaining her employment under false pretenses to spy on the throne and then tortured her to extract the required confessions. This would have only gotten him as far as her former master Ronian Keru however, who would have long been dead before the adequate law enforcement forces could arrest him. And so, temporarily Qarzten had ignored Sejon’s pitiful efforts to hide Nijel’s involvement in the business of the penknife. But then, Qarzten had much bigger fish to fry, and he did not want to draw up his net only to find two small shrimps ensnared in it. Nijel Pinng was far more useful kept as bait to trap all other significant conspirators. For that reason, if nothing else, Qarzten had bided his time till he had attained more solid evidence that was sure to follow. Then with these indisputable proofs in his arsenal, he could in one swoop (precise action), cleanse the system of all its parasitical elements.                                    

                                                                           ~

 

The subsequent day's extensively compiled report on Imperial Tutor Worren Youkup’s early morning unscheduled visit to Lady Sejon and the particulars of that meeting had both disappointed and exasperated Qarzten Caimund. He had expected more from one with Royal tutor’s competence; meanwhile, the specifics of Sejon's brilliant performance had made Qarzten wince. He had secretly abhorred her for her deceitful ways but now he held Sejon in even greater contempt for, not only corrupting the impeccable reputation of an innocuous old tutor Worren Youkup but also using his lifelong principles against him. This needless complication had come about because of Sejon’s informants had failed to pass on in time to her, Zakhertan Yozdek’s recent change of heart and his subsequent decision to establish Magnian, once the boy prince had reached the proper age, as the new Crown Prince. Nijel's palliative, sneaky suggestion meanwhile in reality, a double-edged sword, had caused Sejon to further jeopardize (sabotage) her standing.

Qarzten Caimund quietly reflected on the (previously) intercepted, second secret message from Nijel; though not yet deciphered, he could deduce (fathom) the contents from the subsequent corresponding events. The sudden onset of Lady Sejon’s illness after Worren’s visit for instance had come as no real surprise, although the choice of surrogate Royal Physician, who had attended her, had piqued (annoyed) Qarzten’s interest. Particularly since her ordinarily a robust personal physician had so abruptly was indisposed by a mysterious ailment, necessitating this opportune replacement by Enqui Rimeng, the personal physician of her nemesis Prince Herleif.

 

07- YOUNG ROYAL PHYSICIAN ENQUI RIMENG (1)

A barely detectable frown registered on Qarzten’s lips as he had quickly pinpointed the devious hand behind all this. Even though these recent developments would only slightly alter the portended course of events, Qarzten leaving nothing to chance, set to cover all bases, as well, manage any fluke insidious eventualities.

Later that evening, following his usual routine, Qarzten Caimund dismissed his assistant for a time and shut himself up in his study to deal with this and other most urgent (pressing) and delicate matters of the day. Most nights Qarzten had typically skipped sleep altogether (being a habitual insomniac) examining all vital reports, before presenting these with apt addendum resolutions, to Sovereign Zakhertan Yozdek (the only other who never seemed to need any sleep) later in the hour.   

In just less than an hour the first eight cases were summarily dispensed with when, upon opening a file and perusing its contents with one glance, a thin smile supplanted the habitual stern expression on Qarzten’s face.

“Good!” He hissed, very much relieved at having received confirmation of the postponement of Prince Herleif’s actual conspiracy to eliminate Magnian.

This was certainly welcome news for it eradicated another burdensome matter from Qarzten Caimund’s hectic schedule. Had his gentle coercion not worked, he would have had to implement dicey measures or lethal force to thwart the assassination attempt on Prince Magnian. It was not because he had been ordered to preserve Magnian's life, nor was it out of kindness that Qarzten had taken upon himself the task of safeguarding the boy. In the past he had not intervened in the demises of the other Princelings but then the circumstances had not been as volatile. This course was warranted because of the precarious (foreign) political circumstances created by both Korion and Kontu, with the greater danger stemming from Hedenko. In the likelihood of Herleif’s premature demise, the absence of an immediate replacement would set a dangerous precedence within the realm of Wenjenkun.

At this point Qarzten Caimund feeling tetchy, rose and walked over to stand, hands clasped behind his back, before the open doorway that led to the private veranda. A gentle breeze stirred the curtains that had been pulled back to either side, letting in the cool, crisp air into the room to gently caress his face. Qarzten had worked all through the night yet felt unaffected by it. Stretching out his limbs, he absently observed how the first reddish glow of the dawn streaking in over the high wall, then bathed the tranquil scene in the garden. The low-lying mist on the dew simply glistened like precious gems on the green grass, plump leaves and on the petals of the exquisite orchids. No artist's brush could create such a breathtaking depiction as that which now lay before his eyes; nature alone, that one unrivaled expert craftsman, had the only means with which to embody (illustrate) such wonder!

The rising songs of the awakening birds and insects next greeted his ears announcing the impending arrival of another brilliant day; despite his outward passive complacency however, his mind was still beset with worrisome loose ends. Suddenly feeling famished he turned away, sauntered (moseyed) back to his seat then comfortably settled in, he called out to his assistant, the one who had just moment’s prior reported for work as the shift had changed.

Indicating with a slight movement of his chin, the night's completed work for him to dispense, Qarzten succinctly next instructed the trusted aid to see to it that, after his quick sluice (sponge down), he be served his customary light breakfast, this time at the terrace.

 

08 -QARZTEN CAMUND (17)A - JP3

Once the simple repast was placed in readiness before him Qarzten Caimund, followed his habitual routine and partook of it quickly then, returned inside and went immediately right back to work. Marveling at his master's stamina, the assistant brought in the newest stack of documents and then stepping aside quietly waited, for them to receive Qarzten’s stamp of office (mark, hallmark).

In no time at all the Senior Grand Secretary had finished with this first pile and reached for the smaller second set of correspondence, marked "Confidential" in red lettering, which had next been quickly brought in as soon as the first pile was taken away. Qarzten pulled these new documents squarely in front of him and picking up the topmost one, broke the seal, retrieved the inside letter, then eased back into his chair to peruse its contents. In one glance he had absorbed the contents of the carefully worded report. A glint of a smile just then brushed his lips, “Good, they have finally deciphered the code. From now on we will have a much better idea of her correspondence and of their future, illicit activities.

It was about time, too; fortunately, at present, no drastic measures were warranted. Nevertheless, he impatiently drummed his fingers on the desk for he had never liked being stymied. He re-read the last part of the report and the decoded succinct messages once more, this time more assiduously, his lips forming the words noiselessly. "Cock not in possession of prize. It’s whereabouts still unknown."  Qarzten Caimund leered despite himself at the whimsical reference to the feared Black Eunuch Egil Viggoaries as the 'Cock'. This was a good turn of phrase; Nijel had both guts and a sardonic sense-of-humor.

More importantly, Caimund’s hunches about Viggoaries being the extortionist had been right on the mark, but now the Dark Eunuch had lost the advantages of the leverage it had given him over Lord Shouzi Yozdek.

“He must be livid.” Qarzten Caimund looked away, continuing with his quiet reflection, “That explains the Eunuch's latest series (cycle) of unbridled, perverse tyrannies. Worse still for Viggoaries, Lord Shouzi Yozdek has finally put a face to his tormentor and will now bring to bear his full vindictiveness against him. Even so, Viggoaries has enough devious power to thwart these impending assaults and extricate himself totally from these troubles in the same way he always has.”   

 

(END OF SECTION 14)

 

 

                                                                                     ~ 

 

 11- LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - EVIL PERSONIFIED - SECTION 5

    

Zakhertan, turning his attention back on the task at hand, glowered (looked daggers) at the fourth stack of documents on his desk needing his perusal, he impatiently tapped his fingers on the desk and hissed. “Always the same… “    

Reluctant to begin, Zakhertan with disdain briefly watched the dancing flames of the brazier as Neru typically feed them, before reflecting on Lenny Sukzor’s latest submitted report on the covert and highly illegal activities of Egil Viggoaries. The slight discrepancy between Lenny’s and the subsequent information tendered by Juyin, the lovely wife of Lenny Sukzor’s, on her husband's activities, caused Zakhertan to frown.

01- JUYIN SUKZOR (3)JP

 The two statements varied slightly on one minute detail; an irregularity so feeble that another in his stead might have entirely missed it. Should he be concerned with such a trivial contradiction (incongruity)? Was it an oversight? No! He must not leave anything, no matter how slight, to chance.    

Zakhertan’s mouth formed into a snarl as he drew another blank parchment before him and issued a set of specific orders to have the matter more thoroughly investigated.  

 “I’ll wait and see where this leads to,” Zakhertan briefly pondered, after which he quickly sealed the envelope, containing specific order, with his Imperial seal. A single logo (motif) drawn on the envelope and explicit sequence of numbers registered underneath, indicated the precise department and agent that it was to be handed to; this too was summarily put aside along with the rest in that growing pile.

Then there is still that other matter, Zakhertan Yozdek irritatedly drummed his fingers on the desk. No! There was no need to review it again. Why was he even debating that issue still?  

Such ambivalence angered him; the one thing he had always taken pride in was his decisiveness and exceptionally retentive memory. One glance at anything, any detail however insignificant or minute, and it would be permanently embedded in his mind. Now tapping that innate advantage, Zakhertan recalled with perfect clarity a certain trivial observation hidden in the report the Royal Courier had submitted upon the completion of his mission. This obtuse remark did not tally with the recently, thoroughly compiled accounts by The Shadow Brigade men on the activities of the newcomer, Fradel Rurik Korvald.    

Ordinarily such a minuscule discrepancy would not have elicited any concern from Zakhertan.  Reflecting additionally on the independent reports of Zyerne Stewor and Tizan, who had also curiously enough, raised doubts about the Scholar and considering the recent happenings, Zakhertan decided to delve deeper into the otherwise innocuous matter concerning Fradel Rurik Korvald.

02- FRADEL (NEVETSECNUAC) JP 7

    

He might well have inadvertently transported trouble right to the Capital. This farfetched notion now gripped his heart anew with a certain inexplicable foreboding, for far too many had already come-in-contact with the illustrious scholar. Zakhertan imagined the wide scope this investigation would entail, the deployment of manpower it would take to, either get at the simple truth or, expose all the subversives if his hunch proved correct. As it were, the scholars had again been gaining one third measure of their former prominence and along with it, their sphere of influence had expediently grown. In any event a quick confirmation of these nagging concerns was warranted; he must question the couriers Canbir Nonng and Cais Honger further, on the one minor irregularity in their report. Zakhertan had always insisted on complete and accurate assessments and, if this was the result of incompetence, sacrificing accuracy for expedience, then the couriers would have to answer for it with their lives. Quickly he dispatched another written order, this one to order the couriers to hand over their mission to the one who would be sent in their stead and return in post haste to the Capital.   

That was the end of it. Finally, Zakhertan leaned back and stretched out his limbs.

Grand Secretary Qarzten Caimund having concluded his assigned task expediently a short time earlier, had been waiting patiently for Zakhertan to finish his; he now came forward on the slight indication of Zakhertan Yozdek, to receive his verbal instructions in an ingenious code so secret that it was known only to the two.  Afterwards, Qarzten routinely picked up the order packets and, after bowing respectfully, hurried out the door to distribute them to the various department heads. All were required to work longer hours than the Sovereign.

The door quickly closed behind the Senior Grand Secretary, Zakhertan Yozdek watched with an uninterested blank stare Neru’s progress, then sat motionless in deep contemplative silence, dark clouds of thought swirling through his head and his guards only a whisper away.

    

                                                                                 ~    

    

Hastening out of the vestibule leading from the Imperial Chambers, the Senior Grand Secretary Qarzten Caimund’s head was full of the multiplicity of orders, arrangements, and duties that he must complete before the day’s session was over. So entangled was Qarzten Caimund in these thoughts that he did not see and nearly run into (collided with) a similarly distracted Crown Prince Herleif, as Prince rushed in the opposite direction armed with a stack of ancient scrolls and star charts.   

"On yet another urgent errand; are we, Master Caimund?"    

Prince Herleif’s tone, beneath that remark, grated on Qarzten Caimund’s nerves as it always did. The Senior Grand Secretary’s face tightened, and he averted his eyes for a moment, “You are such a barefaced weasel; still suckling your mother's milk after twenty-three years. Your derision is still palpable under that semblance of sarcasm.”  Qarzten Caimund looked squarely at the prince Herleif now and nodded tersely.

03- -QARZTEN CAMUND (16)Bjp

"I gather His Highness is free now."  The Crown Prince, with typical arrogance, had completely ignored Qarzten's response to his barb and spoke now in the icy tone he used for the servants. "You will step aside to let me pass."    

“This hall will fit five armored guards marching abreast. Did you expect me to acknowledge this childish attempt to flaunt your authority? Let us see just how far your authority will get you.” Qarzten Caimund mocked the prince inwardly.

 

 "By all means." Qarzten smiled tightly as he half turned and shot a knowing glance towards the guards at the chamber doors, moving as slow as he could to antagonize prince Herleif.

"I would like to mention however, that this time may not be appropriate for an unannounced visit."  Qarzten Caimund informed the prince, in his even tone. "Perhaps, you should defer your objective of seeing His Highness this very evening unless, of course, it is a matter of the utmost importance." Qarzten tautly grimaced; but kept the words, “particularly the way you are clad; did you just leave one of your debauched (decadent, base) bashes?” and derisively (scathingly, sarcastically) looked away.

"Impudent wretch, how dare you treat me like an imbecile (dullard) child.” The Prince Herleif's protruding earlobes had turned beet red, as he, seething in contempt, violently shoved the Senior Grand Secretary aside. "Wait until I am your Sovereign, you arrogant dog!"  His face suffused with anger and a stream of abuse gushing off inwardly, he strode quickly forward to cross the vestibule in only a second.  

Caught unaware by this outburst of temper, the Senior Grand Secretary Qarzten Caimund had dropped one of the sealed envelopes onto the marble floor. Anger smoldered in his breast as he stooped to pick it up and his face distorted with contempt. Half-turning his head, he witnessed the Prince Herleif’s way being barred by the two stout guards who had crossed pikes in front of the door to the Imperial Chambers.  

Herleif’s face reddened by rage and pressed menacingly against the senior guard’s, the prince growled, "Are you going to announce me or not? Fine! Step aside, for I mean to walk in immediately and report your insolence myself." 

04-PRINCE HERLEIF YOZDEK (2)

“Go ahead and slither in, you miserable worm, but you won't, will you?” Qarzten Caimund drew in a breath through his teeth then, catching the guard's eye, gave him a simple nod. He had proven his point.  

"I shall inform His Highness of your presence immediately." The stone-faced guard, not in the least perturbed, responded mechanically. "Please wait here, Prince Herleif."  Turning smartly, he stepped up to the door and knocked. After receiving begrudging consent, he opened the door and abjectly entered. After crossing half of the room and bowing briskly, he announced Price Herleif’s presence outside and his request to see the Sovereign.

 "What does that fool want now?' Zakhertan Yozdek snorted impatiently, expecting no answer, and turned his back to the guard to stare out at the serene scenery.   

 Awaiting orders, the guard had stood silently at attention, while at outside, under the transitory (brief) amused gaze of the departing Qarzten Caimund, Prince Herleif had for a spell simmered at his father's disdainful words. Then, he took in a slow breath and composed himself; subsequently, his hand reached inside his pocket, withdrew a rolled-up document, and waited.

 

                                                                                            ~

 

Sovereign Zakhertan Yozdek with a blank expression, meanwhile, had continued to stare outside at the placid (tranquil) garden; his stern gaze next, focusing on the oblivious bird, taking in a drink or two from the fountain. Different troubling thoughts however, grievously (incorrigibly) and unbidden, anew robbed him of the peace he sought.

“If only Qijerrik had not turned on me.”  Zakhertan’s cold eyes blinked, filled with a deep hurt as he hissed out a long breath and shook his head. “If only my firstborn had lived instead of this wretched spawn.”  The grievous loss, the events of those days long gone, rushed in to crowd his mind again, searing his heart and soul with self-recrimination and regret. When the stabbing constriction in his chest became too overwhelming, Zakhertan summoned his will to push it aside and concentrated instead, on the positive attributes of his late son.

Zakhertan recollected fondly now with perfect clarity his proudest moments of Qijerrik. From the start, he’d been an offspring worthy of his sire. Not only Prince Qijerrik was most handsome warrior, as he was tall and athletic, though bit more handsome than him; but he had also been endowed with the same temperament, the same wits, tactical brilliance, and akin (parallel) martial ability (prowess) to Zakhertan at a corresponding age.

Zakhertan had hung great many hopes on his son Qijerrik’s shoulders after noting the potential in the boy, especially after, at age fifteen Prince Qijerrik had become, under his strict tutelage (guidance), an accomplished and indomitable warrior. What was more, Prince Qijerrik thrived on dangerous military campaigns just as Zakhertan did. The more perilous the task or more challenging the combat action the greater the thrill, the deeper the sensation the young Prince would derive from it. This feeling was one only Zakhertan would understand and, they were not just father and son but kindred spirits.  

05- QIJERRIK YOZDEK  (4)JP

But then cruel, capricious fate had instigated, on that fateful seventeenth’ year of his son's life, those infamous chain of events that had led up to his son’s betrayal, all of which were now permanently etched in Zakhertan 's memory by the same cursed talent that served him so well in his bureaucratic duties. Consistently every evening, as soon as he had time to himself, they had surfaced despite his best efforts to quash them and, fiercely, obsessively haunted his peace and tormented his soul.     

If only he had acted more swiftly and without qualm to stem the divergent tide earlier.    

 As it was Zakhertan had been preoccupied with obliteration of resurgent rebel forces at 

Wenjenkun’s western borders, while same time he was constrained to adopt far more severe, more brutal measures to eradicate the infestation the serious unrest by the rising literati (intellectuals or educated class) within Capital Province Holger. Unfortunately, while he was otherwise engaged, the contrary seed had been planted and had germinated in the one Zakhertan had least expected. That single oversight had cost him his firstborn son. When he became aware of this fact, of course by then he could not have altered the outcome, not in the slightest.   

Again, considering his then options in hindsight, Zakhertan shrugged with a certain resignation, admitting to himself that he could not have done otherwise for, on that cursed day when the dark flotilla of clouds congregated ominously on the horizon atop the rising sun, his beloved son Qijerrik, had insisted on, and unfortunately received, his permission to lead vanguard in the attack against the rebel scholars.  After all, Zakhertan had no reason to doubt his son's competence.     

The campaign had gone well enough, with the Imperial forces emerging victorious as expected; after which came the punitive action that wreaked total devastation on the entire populous which had aided and shielded the defiant scholars. Unfortunately, something had gone awry, something else quite unforeseen had transpired either on the battlefield or in aftermath, which had forever altered his beloved son Prince Qijerrik.      

The rebel army had fought gallantly and employed brilliant tactics right up until the bitter end, but that would not have brought about that kind of change in Qijerrik, for he had bested gallant foes before. Was it the gruesome mass suicide of the rebel forces when all hope had been lost? Or was it the subsequent events, the countrywide hunt for and the extreme persecution of the many sympathizers? Could it have been the madness of the pillaging, the extensive carnage and mass extermination of the scholar class? Or was it simply the proliferation (creation) of the earthen mounds that had contained within it, countless living bodies of men, women, and children? Could any of these or all, have been the contributing factors?

“No! Absolutely not! Qijerrik was no weakling coward. “Zakhertan once more vehemently denied that hurtful notion. It had to have been something entirely different, something inconceivable and one day he (Zakhertan) would surely pinpoint the real cause. Zakhertan yet again lied to himself. Technically that had been the day he had lost his firstborn son for, from that day forth Prince Qijerrik had undergone a drastic change in heart, mind, and character. He had become increasingly unruly and finally, downright disobedient.  

“If only my son had been a fallen casualty in war.” Zakhertan mulled over, though he surmised that, in a sense, Qijerrik had been just that.  

“Could the fault have been partly his? He should have listened to his son more?”    

“If only he’d paid more attention and timely intervened with apt measures to protect and isolate Qijerrik from those damaging influences, instead of reacting in anger and ostracizing his son for being contrary and too outspoken?” Zakhertan once more pondered on the nagging concerns, with his empty gaze affixed on the swaying trees (that seemed to be bowing obsequiously), for the wind had just then picked up in the garden.  

 “Had he been too stringent? Had he pushed his son too hard, too soon? No, that was not it either.” Zakhertan scowled. Whatever he might have done wrong, one thing was for certain: he had never been lax in Qijerrik’s upbringing or discipline. In fact, up until that time, Zakhertan had taken an active interest and taken great care in ensuring that Qijerrik had received proper, well-rounded education in both civil and military.   

“Then, how could he have failed to instill in the boy, the most important filial virtue, right alongside loyalty and honor?”  Zakhertan was angry and remained at a loss to find reasons for that drastic change in Qijerrik and the subsequent, catastrophic series of events. Searing fury rose in him anew as he recalled the distressing incident in Council when his son sharply stood up in front of all assembled, to openly oppose him. Admittedly, it was over a minor issue, but the act was still one of open, brazen defiance; a legitimate move under the law but it harbored graver undercurrents which would expose Zakhertan’s single weakness and challenge his overall authority in Imperial Court.

 Zakhertan Yozdek regretted now not using right there and then the provisions in the law which would have allowed him to exercise his option to incarcerate Qijerrik summarily. If only he had imprisoned him, indefinitely or even executed him, instead of banishing him?

Zakhertan had repeated the same haunting question thousands of times and each time the same regret, recrimination, hurt, disappointment, furious rage, and bitterness gripped his heart, in that merciless, wrenching grip. Had he done that, he would have spared himself the mortifying, wounding torment of knowing that his beloved son, his own flesh, and blood, was capable of such treachery against him and all he stood for.

There was one other in the family, his youngest sister, who had likewise betrayed him; but Zakhertan had understood and eventually forgiven her for her misplaced loyalty, for she’d from the first, been deeply infatuated (besotted) with her husband, Lord Shonne Gulbrand. But to be so betrayed by his once beloved son was something Zakhertan had never expected or imagined as a possibility. Each time that memory surfaced, the same fierce indignation and fury welled up from the depths of his soul and he suffered that akin, bittersweet sensation of bile rising to his mouth, as the day Prince Qijerrik’s war slogans had reached his ears.

06- QIJERRIK YOZDEK  (3)JP

Zakhertan’s eyes had burned with intense heat from reading those seditious adages posted for all to see in the towns’ squares, which rallied the populous restive and ripe, for an all-out rebellion. Those contemptible words (like gnawing parasites) were permanently etched (engraved) in his brain. One of those had said: “Arise good people who has suffered for so long under the severity of despotic Zakhertan Yozdek's oppressive regime, time to oppose his repressive laws and demand reckoning for the wrongs that had never been redressed; unite and take up arms, for yours is the righteous cause!”    

“My son, my most beloved son; how deeply you’d injured me!”  Zakhertan’s mouth presently, creased into a grimace of pain for each one of those seditious words had been a stiletto in Zakhertan’s heart and the damage hence, had been irreparable.

Zakhertan would have judged Qijerrik more leniently, had all this been done because of high ambition, Prince wanting to seize the throne for himself; that Zakhertan could have lived with, but Qijerrik had taken on the mantle of a liberator.     

This had been unforgivable, and it had unleashed the culmination of all that unbridled fury Zakhertan Yozdek had amassed in him; consequently, he had acted swiftly and more savagely than ever before to bring about total devastation of innumerable (myriad) Wenjenkuners.

 

(END OF SECTION 5)    

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC – THE CAPITAL CHANNING – SECTION 12

 

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

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

01 ZAUR STUGR JP 12b

 

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

02- ZYERNE STEWOR

 

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

 

                                                                                ~

 

 

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

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

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

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

                                                                                                                                                               

                                                                                    ~

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

03- - SANZO TESCAT (2)

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

                                                                      ~

 

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

 

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

 

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

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

 

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

 

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

 

“Yes, of course!”  

 

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

 

 

(END OF SECTION 12)