11- LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC– EVIL PERSONIFIED – SECTION 1  

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

01- LENNY SUKZOR (12)JP

  

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

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

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

02- INGRIT YOULU- LATER BECAME INGRIT SUKZOR

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

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

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

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

03- WUSHING, THE MINISTER OF INTERIOR B

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

04- COMANDER ZHADOL BORYM

  

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

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

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

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

05- LIEUTENANT YENNIC

  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

06- WARRIOR FRIENDS (33)

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

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

07- FRIENDS OF COMMANDER ZHADOL

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

08- EGIL VIGGOARIES - THE DARK EUNUCH

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

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

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

   

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  

(END OF SECTION 1)    

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION 21

 When dawn broke Zunrogo promptly knocked at Fradel Rurik Korvald's door.

Permission granted, he entered with a smile on his lips, carrying a bundle in his hand, trailed by the servant boy, burdened with a generous array of breakfast victuals on a tray.

Scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald had just finished his packing, having risen early in anticipation of this meeting.

01- ZUNROGO TUGO JP 4

After an exchange of polite greetings, "I took the liberty of ordering you a wholesome breakfast with local cuisine." Zunrogo grimaced, signaling the boy to put the tray on the table and to leave the room at once.

As soon as the door was closed behind him, Zunrogo advanced on Fradel and courteously presented him with the bundle, urging him to try it on.

"I thank you for your thoughtful gift but since I am already dressed…" Fradel could not resist teasing him.

Zunrogo abruptly halted his ready rebuke (and the persuasive argument on his tongue) when he noted the slight glint (twinkle) in Fradel's eyes and understood his jest.  Smiling, he evenly informed Fradel that his account had been settled in full and that, as soon as he was ready, they would depart.

Then, officiously declaring that he still needed to see some last-minute details, he headed out the door before Fradel could thank him for his troubles.

Back in his room, Zunrogo expediently wrapped up all the loose ends. The Innkeeper Kjeld Rosko, having received assurances from the captain himself that his captive family, including his adored infant son, would all be released the moment after their departure, nodded his head in gratitude and then contentedly left the room.

As Kjeld headed down the long hallway, however, a sudden concern clouded his face and he, abruptly for a spell, stayed his step; slight trepidation, almost a glint of fear, fleetingly registering in his pupils as he with lowered head deliberated on the Kozur’s viable rescue plan. “The captain, now there's someone to be reckoned with!”  Kjeld, nevertheless, could not hold back a shiver.

This business of the guard Tizan, however, staying behind to ensure that there was no disruption or deception, seemed reasonable yet; it still put Kjeld Rosko a bit on his unease. With each step, a kind of needling feeling that he could not rightly put a finger on, etched a deeper frown on Kjeld’s face.

“It nearly killed me to be so reticent (taciturn, aloof, quiet); but at least my disguise was effective. And when have the Kozurs ever failed me, or anyone? Now, stop all your needless worrying!” Kjeld admonished self.  Besides, he was certain they wouldn't dare try anything too drastic with Magistrate Liros there; but more importantly, fortuitously, he had the backing of Kozurs.

Kjeld’s fears, bit more assuaged (eased, lessened), he rushed his steps to meet the affiliate agent and possibly receive (acquiring) the long awaited, anticipated, good news, news that his family was safe and away from the perilous predicament. He would be joining them when this whole business was satisfactorily dealt with. Meanwhile, with the captain and his other brutes gone, this Tizan thug, then, could aptly be handled (properly deceived, duped) by the Kozurs. 

02- KJELD ROSKO WAITS FOR THE KOZUR AGENT

Having received secret notification, that the clandestine meeting would instead, take place in the (crypt) cellar, a covert room accessed only by a trap door well concealed behind the stacks of forte (specialty) wine barrels, Kjeld headed straight down there. As Kjeld in partial darkness waited for the agent to show up, seated at the table, his fingers nervously tapping the table, his wild imagination meanwhile carefully enumerated the last week’s odd events. Unbidden, one unsubstantiated fact suddenly snuck (stole) to mind and so, the worry lines once more got etched in his brow (forehead); nevertheless, he strove to ease his fears: “Besides, haven't I dealt with far worse situations and came out of it sailing?  In this line of business, it’s to be expected.  I just hope Leon makes good time, for then…” Kjeld looked at the door, nervous but still satisfied. “Yes, then I can still expect to be amply, if not well compensated for all my troubles and inconvenience. Pity, though, this place would be so destroyed!”

                                                                                 ~

Zunrogo was fastening his jeweled broadsword onto his waist when Tizan suddenly appeared at the door.  He beckoned the guard and signaled him to close the door.

 "Well, is everything all set?"

"Yes sir.  I'll be joining you on the road after the successful conclusion of my task."

"It is imperative that those in question be eliminated without a trace.  None are to survive, understand?"

"You needn’t warn me of its importance, sir." Tizan responded without a shred of conscience.  "Please go with an easy mind.  It (sudden explosion resulting in fire) will be made to look like an accident, warranting no investigation at all.  However, if you wish, I could plant certain incriminating evidence to involve…”

"No, that will not be necessary." The captain cut him off.  "Don't deviate from the original plan."

                                                                                   ~

After breakfasting and having sent his luggage on ahead, Nevetsecnuac (Fradel), now disguised as one of the palace guards, retrieved the papers from their hiding place and secured them in the inner pocket of his garb (uniform) that were, in fact, more comfortable and more suitable for traveling than his cumbersome, restrictive scholar's attire.

After a cursory look around to see to it that nothing was left behind, he closed the door quietly behind him and quickly descended the stairs.  Meeting the Captain in the lobby ready and waiting, he was then (shepherded) lead to the outside where men and horses awaited in readiness of the departure.

03- NEVETSECNUAC IN IMPERIAL UNIFORM

Fradel Rurik Korvald (Nevetsecnuac) had been forewarned to a certain degree that there would be two guards flanking him, along on the journey, with another to be joining them later, but these two who came to smart attention were not what he had expected.  One he had never seen before and the other.  His eyes rested on the figure of Briac, who had been disguised to look like scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald.

 "I went along with your suggestion of wearing these clothes, sir, but this, this is intolerable!" Nevetsecnuac (Fradel) burrowed his cold gaze on the captain, not flinching.

This unexpected, irate, moral indignation from the supercilious scholar put Zunrogo (for a spell,) at a complete loss for words.

As Captain of the Palace Guards, the most elite force in Channing, and the secret member of the ruthless Black Band Guard, which was Sovereign Zakhertan Yozdek’s personal militia, Zunrogo was the fourth most feared, most powerful, invincible warrior/statesman in Wenjenkun; right after Sovereign, the Minister of Internal Security Egil Vigoaries and The Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren.  No other had ever been so brazened enough to stand up to or, been in, least defiance of Zunrogo and lived; more astonishingly still, Fradel (Nevetsecnuac), with his features set in firm defiance obdurately had demanded an explanation from Zunrogo.

“Are you goading (provoking) me; do you have a secret wish for death?”

"Sir, this is where I draw the line.” Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) undaunted by Zunrogo’s menacing glower, (look of daggers) obstinately grumbled. “I will not, in all good conscience, have another’s life be put in jeopardy on account of me!"

Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) was stanchly (resolutely) considering, rescinding their prior arrangement when the captain, with a curt gesture of his hand, silenced him and roughly pulled him aside. Pinning his face right into Fradel’s, Zunrogo, gritting his teeth, threatened: "You would have been instantly slayed, chopped down for this insubordination; now act like a proper soldier (guard) or else!”

But then, quickly curtailing his fiery temper, in a more moderate tone, Zunrogo reasoned: “I know how it looks, but I assure you, sir, it is necessary."  His cutting tone, nevertheless, was a warning to Fradel, to back off, that, if necessary, he would be carried off, trussed, and bound.

Bearing in mind that he was supposed to be an arrogant but a mild-mannered scholar, Nevetsecnuac (as Fradel), biting his lip, he now checked his derisive (scornful) rebuke.  At that juncture (point in time), a low murmur drew his attention to the side door of the inn.  Nevetsecnuac’s keen eyes caught a fleeting shadow just before the individual darted inside and completely disappeared.  He let it pass.

"I thought you said that there was no real danger," more composed now, Nevetsecnuac (Fradel) turned to address Zunrogo.

"Less for them than you," Zunrogo answered irritably, indicating Briac with his chin.  Raising his voice slightly, on pretext, he admonished Fradel, "Now, sir, I will not have you undermining my authority and demoralizing my men with all your questions."

Fradel Rurik Korvald (Nevetsecnuac) checked his temper as well, understanding at once that the rebuke was more for the benefit of his double and that there was something graver at stake here.

“Briac, the guard chosen to impersonate you, is the one best suited for this.  His selection was made only after serious consideration."  Zunrogo shifted his body slightly, shielding his face from the view of the guards.  He looked meaningfully at Fradel Rurik Korvald, his gaze and fierce eyes speaking the words that could not be freely uttered, darkness, treachery; furthermore, it warned, stay out of what does not concern you; this turncoat (collaborator) will soon get just his desserts.

Comprehending, Nevetsecnuac (Fradel) turned and looked at Briac with an impassive, blank expression. The guard's face completely ashen, his’s eyes at first looked strangely pained and grave then got filled with loathing when they met Fradel's, after which, he lowered his head abjectly.

Nevetsecnuac (Fradel) returned his expressionless gaze back to Zunrogo, who’d this entire period scrutinized him like a hawk with the cruel half-smile plastered on his lips.  Behind the Captain's seemingly stern mask, his eyes betrayed a profound, impenetrable darkness carrying a brutal, implicit threat not only for Briac but also for Fradel.

04- FRADEL RURIK KORVALD (NEVETSECNUAC) IN ARMY UNIFORM

Unflinching, Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) affably (genially) smiled at Zunrogo and he, relenting, perfunctorily smiled back. But underneath the seeming cordiality, Zunrogo pondered. “Yes, you are more than what you seem.  You are no ordinary scholar.  Your aim is much higher. I will therefore watch you, watch you very carefully, Fradel Rurik Korvald, or whatever your real name may be.  It bothers me greatly when I can see that you are not afraid of death, but I will find out the reason why, before this expedition concludes.”

Outwardly tranquil, as if his prior ambiguity had allayed (dispelled), Zunrogo nodded, "I'm glad we finally understand each other; now we can quickly put all this unpleasantness behind us and amicably proceed; as I am most anxious to get started on this trip."

Turning, Zunrogo signaled (cued) the groom to bring forth Briac’s strong steed, inclined his head politely and invited (disguised) Fradel Rurik Korvald to mount up.

 Alternately, Briac was helped by one of the grooms, to mount Scholar Fradel’s relatively inferior mare.

 

                                                                                   ~

(END OF SECTION 21)