11- LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - EVIL PERSONIFIED - SECTION 26

 On the evening of the day that Qarzten Caimund and Lenny Sukzor had both at dawn departed from Channing, Minister of Ceremony Zaur Stugr conducting business as usual in his secret offices, had next received Kozur affiliate (member) Qunen Yummer.

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As Zaur had listened with due patience to Qunen’s lengthy report, in his mind's eye Zaur could not help but envision all the committed, ghastly, disturbing acts/atrocities at the hand of that blood thirsty Egil Viggoaries.

Zaur was both relieved and quietly intrigued to hear next, however, when at dawn of this very day the Dark Eunuch had again gone down to the subterranean dungeons to further torment Nijel Pinng but had instead, discovered her lifeless, headless body.

Deprived of this pleasure, Egil Viggoaries’s subsequent reaction had been fierce. Imagining the mayhem, Zaur could not hide the manifest slight grin on his lips; though, he continued to listen with an unreadable stone expression and learned how as consequence, all Hell had broken loose, quietly of course, within the ranks of the Black Molochs.  

Zaur, thinking back on the pre-dawn’s (daybreak’s) minutes now quietly contemplated, “Soon as he had woken up this morning, he had sensed something grave in the air!

Zaur Stugr, briefly and pensively looked away, before pinning his gaze back on Qunen Yummer who, incessantly (nonstop) stated the subsequent succinct details of his report.

Now, admittedly, this was the most charitable course for Nijel Pinng; but who had dared, more specifically, who had accomplished such an impossible feat?   Zaur inwardly queried; he knew that security had always been rigorous in that segment of subterranean dungeons and that it had always been impenetrable for any unsanctioned breach (gap, entry).

Zaur Stugr, again, while landing a half ear to the report, cogitated:  A while back Kozur elite force had tried but in vain, to rescue one of their valued secret agents from the clutches of that despised, dastardly Eunuch. Sadly, the mole (infiltrator) in the end had died stoically, without giving Egil Viggoaries what he was after (wanted).  

Zaur’s attention abruptly just then reverted to Qunen, when he heard him say, “Forgive me Chief for my omitting lone factor prior, as I could not decide whether or not it held any significance…"     

Qunen Yummer had then momentarily paused to receive an affirmative nod from Zaur, before resuming, his voice lowered only by a fraction. "After Minister Lenny Sukzor’s undoubtedly grueling meeting at small hours with Egil Viggoaries, and subsequently, at dawn this morning, before his prompt departure from the Capital that is, I had covertly observed for a spell a rather unexpected and odd reaction of his…This had happened you see when Lenny Sukzor was alone with me in his study, overseeing some last-minute details." 

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"What kind of reaction?" Zaur Stugr impatiently cutting Qunen off with a sharp gesture of his hand, curtly asked.  

"Well, sir, when one of the crystal figurines, the one Her Ladyship had presented him with on his last birthday, in his haste was bumped onto the floor from the mantelpiece, Lenny bent over to pick up the decapitated head, not the body; and I caught just then the strange gleam (twinkle) in his eyes. I knew that figurine held special sentimental value to him, yet at that moment his expression showed no remorse for his carelessness, only relief. His eyes (focus) meanwhile had stayed glued to it for a spell. He unmistakably was thinking of something else.”    

"Are you suggesting that perhaps it was he who intervened?" Zaur Stugr tad regaled (amused), eyed Qunen Yummer quizzically. “What an intriguing concept!”    

Qunen Yummer’s face flushed (reddened) feeling for a spell rather foolish; but then with a lowered gaze pondered the question carefully before answering, “No!" and then shook his head with definite conviction in the end. "He would not dare; however, he could be in some ways indirectly involved, sir."    

“Highly unlikely,” Zaur Stugr nevertheless on the outset nodding, mused. “No. Lenny Sukzor would not undertake such callous risk (action). He had too much at stake. He certainly would not jeopardize it all over an insignificant being (spy).”    

Since Qunen Yummer had again stopped, Zaur signaled for him to continue with the rest of his report. Whilst Zaur Stugr listened on, he pondered on Lenny's sudden departure under these mysterious circumstances, anticipating that it had a far-reaching political significance. The fact that he was headed in the opposite direction from Qarzten Caimund after their private conference last night, carried intriguing inference (connotation) and it made it worth looking into it, a bit more extensively.  Just the same, Zaur had already assigned two of his best agents to tail Lenny and send reports back on his activities; while he waited for the results, Zaur would utilize few other avenues to uncover Lenny's true/actual (objective) mission.   

Sometime later, armed with his new instructions Qunen Yummer, had left Minister Zaur Stugr’s offices, and blending into the shadows under the starless night, swiftly made his way back to Lenny Sukzor’s mansion.   

    

                                                                          ~    

 

Burning the midnight oil that same night, Sovereign Zakhertan Yozdek was overseeing four other grievous matters that needed his immediate attention. He had worked tirelessly most of the night, desisting going to bed, for of late the moment he’d laid down his head on the pillow his mind at once raced with day’s pesky unfinished tasks, as there was so much one could fit in a day’s agenda; and if he was fortunate enough to catch forty winks, without fail his sleep would then be assailed by incessant, grotesque nightmares.  

Though Zakhertan Yozdek would never outwardly admit it, he had already missed the invaluable company of Qarzten Caimund and their rather intense, exhilarating, sometimes philosophical, but always highly cerebral, nightly repartee that provided him with small degree relief at the end of a typically wearing, sometimes trying day.

His thoughts abruptly turning to disinherited Prince Herleif, Zakhertan angrily looked away. The ignoble son, who had been nothing but a disappointment from day one, could simply rot in jail for all he cared, but eventually Zakhertan knew that he would have to execute him. That part did not disturb him as much as the dread that Herleif would shame him further when he faced the hour of his end, for Prince Herleif had always been innately deficit in both courage and honour.

 

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Zakhertan had even considered dispatching his assassins to the subterranean dungeon to finish him off quietly in the dead of night, but part of him still wanted to further punish this reprehensible spawn, therefore, no easy death for him for being such ignominy to Zakhertan. This thought unfortunately brought to his mind another disappointment, Lord Shouzi Yozdek, a relative that Zakhertan had once actually respected and bore certain affections (fondness) to.    

A second cousin from the paternal side of the family and only four years Zakhertan’s senior, as children the two had been (inseparable) thick-as-thieves. In fact, during the memorable period prior to and up till puberty, the mischievous duo that shared similar characteristics and interests, had embarked on more than fifty hair-raising adventures, each of which to date Zakhertan fondly remembered, to nosh (nourish) their innate, perverse appetite for carnage.   

The unleashed zest for bedlam and violence had (ultimately) paved the way later for Zakhertan to achieve his utmost ambition. Alas, change being inevitable, Shouzi during his teens had sadly undergone a drastic, inexplicable conversion (change) in character, which to date Zakhertan did not know the cause or reasons for it. All the same, Shouzi had readily each time answered Zakhertan Yozdek’s call to arms and, it had been Shouzi who had without fail bolstered Zakhertan Yozdek during those difficult campaigning years, making it possible for him to ascent steadily in power.

Zakhertan now pondered with a leaden heart how in all those years Shouzi, with his estimable courage, loyalty and prowess, had once been a valuable kin and an intimate friend, fighting alongside him, when Zakhertan one by one toppled (eradicated) all opposition, vanquished all his nemesis and consolidated his power to establish his present, enduring and omnipotent reign (dynasty, empire).

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Zakhertan Yozdek, moreover, had never forgotten how Shouzi at a crucial juncture once, had mounted a daring rescue and delivered him from the clutches (jaws) of death, after Zakhertan because of his overestimation, had been caught in a terrible ambush. His life had been spared because of Shouzi’s intrepid feat and for that, Zakhertan owed him a life; hence, the reason for his present, troubled mind, and pained conscience, having already initiated the only viable recourse, to curb (if not stop) Lord Shouzi Yozdek’s future objective (aim).

How swiftly time had passed; how capriciously family and friendship bonds went astray!

Zakhertan did not know this, but he stood at the cusp (threshold, verge) of more akin perfidies (betrayals) from those he trusted the most.

Zakhertan Yozdek had always presumed (believed) that he was a great judge of character and astute observer; he could spot a fake sincerity or sham loyalty from slightest shift in nuances (tones, hints, tinges) of facet (face, characteristics) or mien (demeanor, aspect) of any Royal family member or a liege subject (pledged, vassal, warrior, official, aristocrat or a plebian) in his kingdom. He knew he had never stinted with his gratitude and recompense of any good deed. Zakhertan, besides which, had bestowed far more favors on that unappreciative (surly ingrate) truculent (insolent) and audacious Lord Shouzi (a second cousin), than he’d done for anyone else.

And, he had raised no objection to Lord Shouzi’s third son Konnur’s nuptial’s (marriage) to Lamont Gudaren’s daughter Arabel, which had established a strong, mutually beneficial bond between the Lord and the Prime Minister; albeit this shrewd political maneuvering, had warranted Zakhertan’s perpetual, close monitoring of their coalition (association, link) over the past years.

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Moreover, last ten or more years, Zakhertan had been more than generous and lenient with Lord Shouzi Yozdek’s other akin, political, and economic transactions (maneuverings), allowing the Lord to amass his present, copious wealth, and influence.

   

Then what had happened? What grievance had been at the root, that so propelled Shouzi, a once close friend, to turn on him? Zakhertan with disdain pushed aside the stack of documents before him on his desk and then letting out a long, exasperated breath, he eased his weary back into the cushioned chair.

Deep down of course he knew the basis of Lord’s dissension, though he refused to admit Lord Shouzi's apparent weakness and his recent indifference. Until recently Shouzi had been dependable kin, an ardent loyal friend and a good vassal, whose analytical mind and actions had always been ruled by logic. He had proven that more times than Zakhertan cared to remember it. All that had changed however when Shouzi’s eldest son Wasmund, having been found guilty of mutinous political views and his reckless association with the known rebel group, was incarcerated and subsequently executed. By rights Lord Shouzi should have understood his (Zakhertan’s) obtaining confirmation much too late of the boy’s inadvertent part in that conspiracy. But then, Wosmund could be said to have brought that misfortune upon himself; for the young upstart brazenly and passionately in military court had defended (championed) the culpable faction's right to rebel! He’d called him a barbaric Narcissist! Imagine that! Besides these unpardonable offences Wosmund had furthermore, blatantly renumerated in thundering voice, the insurrectionist’s novel grievances (list of criticisms and objections) against the present regime, which had been fought and lost two years prior by the movement's cofounder, Zakhertan Yozdek’s beloved son Prince Qijerrik. The old wounds rehashed, despite Lord Shouzi's entreaties (to Zakhertan) to grant his twenty-year-old son a reprieve, a life for a life in exchange for the debt Zakhertan had owed him, Wosmund had to be made an example of and so, was duly decapitated.     

 So, what, Zakhertan Yozdek scoffed. At least he was not quartered.

Besides, Zakhertan’s loss had been far greater; for he had lost his beloved Qijerrik at the tender age of fifteen. But even after the swift execution of all suspected instigators and participants, the insurgency far from being quelled at the root, had in fact arisen anew in four years in two isolated pockets of the nation, threatening to mushroom into another fully fledged rebellion. These budding malcontent dissidents had to be at all costs suppressed (crushed); subsequently, after Qarzten Caimund’s effective and precise (efficient) measures, Wenjenkun had enjoyed the four years of stability and peace.  

 

 

(END OF SECTION 26)                          

 

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE CAPITAL CHANNING - SECTION 6

 

 It was announced throughout the Capital the next morning that the curfew that had been imposed on the citizens for several days had been finally lifted.  This unexpected news discernibly placed everyone in a good mood. 

Resigned as Fradel Rurik Korvald (Nevetsecnuac) was to be receiving the expected callers, nothing could have prepared him for the greatest influx (incursion) of guests, consequently, the public relations challenge/nightmare that was thrust upon him. He was suddenly cast amid the demanding posh (high-born) society’s elite with their unprecedented rigid rules and regulations, frivolous propriety (decorum) and antiquated (obsolete, archaic) protocols (etiquette), compelling him to juggle (manage) these with his academic onuses (obligations, responsibilities), all of it within the tiresome, whirlwind dance of aristocratic revelry. 

Zakhertan Yozdek had abolished the examination system around the time of the first of the intellectual purges.  Nepotism aside, for those seeking a new or better post in the government yet lacking in military prowess, social contacts have become an all-important, crucial (key, vital) source.  Their prospects were now perpetually reliant (dependent) on the personal recommendations from those officials who had already acquired power and distinction and were willing to tie their own futures to that of the candidates whom they recommended.

Deeming the esteemed scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald’s arrival as a good presage (omen, potent), the elite of Channing in their ostentatious carriages and litters, had descended in droves (multitudes) upon Zaur Stugr 's residence, all bearing rich and lavish gifts for the host and his guest, all same time hoping to satiate their curiosity about this promising, once elusive scholar.

As large as Minister of Ceremony Zaur Stugr’s residence was, its path was worn thin by this onslaught of sycophants.  Finally, Minister Zaur sought out the Prime Minister for his permission, consulted with Fradel Rurik Korvald then, taking matters into his own hands, graciously postponed all but the most important appointments until after Fradel Rurik Korvald’s audience with the Sovereign.

As this was most agreeable to many of the prudent nobility, (those wanting to see first, how the scholar would rank in favor with His Royal Highness Zakhertan Yozdek), the request was adopted without any qualm.

Fradel Rurik Korvald (Nevetsecnuac) thus was spared from any more torment, from those slick-toured officials and nobles, who with their smiling faces and black hearts hid their ulterior motives poorly behind the facade of congeniality.

 In fact, every loaded word they sputtered, every covert gesture they made, every seemingly innocent remark with which they hoped to embroil scholars in their dark intrigues had taken their toll and had ground down Fradel’s (Nevetsecnuac’s) spirit despite his outward show of vigor (enthusiasm) and resilience.

This welcome respite had come none too soon, for it was followed the next morning at daybreak by an invitation from the Prime Minister requesting Fradel Rurik Korvald’s illustrious presence at an exclusive, nevertheless, an elaborate party to be given in his honor in nine days’ time.

                                                                             ~

 

 In the subsequent days, Minister of Ceremony Zaur Stugr proved to be a most attentive, congenial host, anticipating, and fulfilling with uncanny precision, his guest's every perceived desire and whim.

 Swayed somewhat by this solicitude, Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) found himself amending some of his first impressions of the junior Minister.  Only seven years Nevetsecnuac's senior, Zaur Stugr seemed overall to be a mild mannered, articulate and most obliging person.  Looking much younger than his age, fair in complexion, he sported only a thin mustache, and tapered beard.  Tall, thin, and strikingly handsome, with striking blue eyes, he did not need the extra adornments his peers affected to accentuate his winning features.  His lush, over the shoulder straight, raven (jet black) hair was always glistening clean and only sometimes was bound behind his neck by a simple leather band.  In contrast to his striking physique, however, he was moderate in his manners and speech and bore none of the pretentious airs associated with his office.  On numerous occasions Nevetsecnuac (Fradel Rurik Korvald) observed that this amiable persona allowed Zaur to place whomever he interacted with, regardless of their position, wealth, or power, at their ease.  Without them being aware of it, he was able to manipulate them into opening and laying bare even the most secretive thoughts that lay in the deep recesses of their hearts then sent them away contented with even more confidence and trust in this remarkable Junior Minister.

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When Zaur Stugr turned this charm on Fradel Rurik Korvald, it took most of Nevetsecnuac's discernment and perception to avoid being swept away by the tide of affable good will that Zaur Stugr bountifully projected.  Despite his reserve, Nevetsecnuac had gradually grown quite fond of the Junior Minister and his winning ways.  Yearning for the close bonds of companionship, Zaur Stugr seemed to be the most likely candidate on which to lay his trust and friendship, yet Nevetsecnuac held back, restrained by the stronger sensibility that had guided him ever since he had first encountered Zunrogo and the people from the Capital.

 Even though there was a complete absence of proof, there was this anomalous, nagging feeling that his charming host Zaur was leading a double life, one entirely different in character from the persona he projected every day.  This sense of duality insisted on caution, if not slight distrust, particularly when dealing with affable Minister Zaur Stugr.

 At any rate after all Nevetsecnuac had seen, heard, and lived through during these past months, the innocence and trust that had once been second nature to him had been supplanted, lost forever.  At present Nevetsecnuac's guard was perpetually up, leaving no room for the spark of familiarity or friendship to develop.

Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) was bit sad that, he frequently (habitually) now, felt prematurely aged (rather old) and hardened to the core.

As happened, this dilemma eventually resolved itself when his pessimistic apprehension was given further credibility by the successive events; however, as nothing much out of the ordinary or spectacular happened, this will not warrant any elaboration.

                                                                               ~

 On the seventh day Fradel Rurik Korvald (Nevetsecnuac) had spent the better part of the afternoon sightseeing few historic sites that the Capital Channing was famed for then afterward, both host and guest had enjoyed a sumptuous feast at the house of one of Zaur Stugr’s colleagues.

On their return to the Junior Minister's residence both felt reluctant to retire for the night and forgo the enjoyment of full moon; despite the lateness of the hour hence, they mutually decided to resume their conversation where they had left it in the Quiet Waters Pavilion, by the eastern end of the artificial (man-made) lake, that also had alongside it, a delightful, swimming pool where if they wished they could take a cool dip in private. 

The pleasant company, delightful warm breeze buffeting their sleeves, caressing their faces, and the fullness of the moon casting brilliant (rippled) reflection on the water all, had put Zaur in such a good mood that he had, without reservation, downed several more cups of wine, far exceeding his tolerance level.

Fradel (Nevetsecnuac), on the contrary, careful managing his intake of drink had of course emptied his cup discreetly, whenever he could, onto the ground. During the night as they partook (participated) in consuming still more variety of choice, vintage vines, Nevetsecnuac seizing an apt opportunity, subtly steered the conversation around to the subject of Kontu in the hope of extracting from the Minister Zaur Stugr, more indebt version and true accounts (pertaining to) concerning Sovereign Murong Di.

Zaur’s inhibitions by then having gradually eased (melted away) he, with his virtuoso narration, his gifted elaborations, and an uncanny knowledge of the smallest details, so competently (dazzlingly) painted such vivid pictures for Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) that, it made him feel as though he personally was in Kontu, hearing and experiencing it all firsthand. And so, that night listening to Zaur Stugr’s account, Nevetsecnuac came to learn all about (even filling in the blanks, the missing facts, when Nevetsecnuac had first learned about Kontu from Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon back at the mountain cabin,) how Hedenko had artfully risen in prominence and power while still purportedly a vassal, commanding the army of Sovereign Murong Di of Kontu. 

Nevetsecnuac could well understand Minister Zaur Stugr’s fascination of these historical facts for the whole thing unfolded more like a military textbook with, do and don’ts.

Despite the growing threat from Hedenko, King Murong Di had unwisely given precedence to the prevailing danger from the state of Icone instead.

 In his royal arrogance he had foolishly turned a deaf ear to the counsel of his able ministers that Hedenko should be summoned to court immediately, by force, if necessary, to give good and true account of his rebellious activities.  Unfortunately, by the time the King had awakened to the true danger that existed to his rule, internal strife, and corruption within his court itself had curtailed his ability to deal with Hedenko at all and had sealed his fate once and for all.  When his only other recourse, assassination, proved ineffective within the tight military control of Lord Deng Hedenko's lands, King Murong Di resorted to a ruse.  Extending his edict of general amnesty to include Hedenko, he let it be known that it was his Royal wish that they end the strained relationship between them.

 At the same time Sovereign Murong Di made the most generous proposal of marriage between Princess Teuquob and the Lord, knowing that Hedenko would not be able to resist the temptation to acquire the most enchanting beauty in the entire Kingdom.

Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) had previously speculated that the Sovereign Murong Di's offer had been solely for the purpose of luring Lord Hedenko to the Royal Court to procure the rebel's demise.  Zaur Stugr had reaffirmed this proposition when he outlined the King's plans to have Hedenko apprehended, charged with treason, and promptly executed once he left the safety of his fortified lair to fetch his bride and attend the matrimonial festivities.

"It’s an ingenious, but nevertheless effective stratagem." Zaur Stugr concurred in good humor.

"Unaware of the sinister plan lurking in the mind of the Monarch Murong Di, the Prime Minister at that time, Neru, had for some time attempted in vain to deter the King from such a move.  He recalled to his Sovereign, Hedenko's ruthless exploits, his lack of filial piety and his brutality towards women.  He had even grimly foretold, at the risk of incurring royal disfavor, that the Lord's ambition would not be satiated that easily and that Hedenko would not rest until he had seized total power and usurped the throne for himself.  This marriage would only whet (sharpen, hone) his appetite and lead to much graver consequences.”

Monarch Murong Di, grimacing coldly, had once more not heeded the sound advice and furthermore, had concealed his true aim for fear of spies in court. 

“That, in itself, his inability to trust anyone, was a prime cause of the King's subsequent downfall."  Zaur Stugr nodded thoughtfully.

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“Hedenko, his mind equally treacherous, had accepted this proposal without reserve not so much because of the tempting bait, but because it helped him advance his own sinister plan.  The Lord's aim paralleled Sovereign Murong Di's, it seemed.  To further disarm the Monarch, he even swore to surrender all his forces and land holdings to the King the moment he was made his son-in-law, giving substance to the rumors that he had planted, that Hedenko wanted most of all to prove his loyalty to Murong and assume his former position as the King's most loyal vassal.   He set his supporters to work to reinforce this pretense in the ear of the Monarch Murong Di with similar reports supposedly from various sources.”

"This marriage proposal", Deng Hedenko had ostensibly, duly professed upon receipt, "had been a great honor and had overwhelmed him."

“Touched by the wisdom, the insight and benevolence of the Sovereign, more specifically Murong's show of good faith, Hedenko had supposedly paced up and down “in a shrine before the Gods of his ancestors and sworn an oath of allegiance to live up to his Highness' expectations.  He'd vowed also to first disprove then permanently silence the slanderers of his good name.”

“Now,” Zaur chuckled. “This covert warning sent shock waves of fear among the opposition. (In the many days that ensued) Subsequently, many had tried to amend their mistakes, others had gone hiding and still others had taken flight under various pretexts, never to be heard from again.  Meanwhile, more hateful than ever of Monarch Murong, Hedenko had initiated his long-term plans and immediately began implementing his designs on the throne.  After all, he had just been handed a perfect opportunity on a silver platter.”

“Having received this go-ahead signal, his ardent supporters, courtiers, and military generals alike, underhandedly but aggressively began their campaign of support in the Capital, the last seat of power for Murong, attempting to drum up favorable support for Hedenko and paving the way for a total capitulation, or at least for an assured success with the least resistance from those unyielding loyalist Lords too powerful as yet to be quickly extinguished. “

“The plan was for Hedenko to make his entry into the Capital with his elite force of assassins disguised as servants bringing along the bride price, this in addition to the small number of guards accompanying him.  During the festivities Hedenko would personally seize Murong and assassinate him on the spot.  The Lord already had a dagger concealed in the hall where the ceremony was to take place, planted by one of his spies at Court.  After his consolidation of power throughout the land he would pass judgment on the only surviving member of the Royal Family, Princess Teuquob.  If she proved worthy of further attention, then she would be made his new wife.  Since, however, Hedenko believed in a clean sweep and no mercy, a policy he had adopted after every victory, it was clear that, following the birth of a son or two, depending on his whim, and then she would be made to forfeit her life as well.”

"But things took on a bizarre, rather unexpected turn." Zaur Stugr exhaled deeply with heightened zeal, "The Princess who was to be wed took flight just two weeks before all this was to happen and unfortunately perished in a storm at sea.  Of course, another (a distant royal cousin of marriable age) was quickly offered in her stead.  Hedenko, appearing most agreeable, went through with this wedding and, naturally, with his planned usurpation of the throne.  And at present, he has been the omnipotent ruler of Kontu for more than a decade."  Falling silent, Zaur reached to fill his cup.

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Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) looked up thoughtfully for the first time and was about to inquire how Zaur Stugr was so exceptionally well informed about the internal politics of the Kontu Royal Court, when Zaur, surmising his question, held up his hand, then with some modesty exclaimed. "Perhaps I have neglected to inform you that I am an ardent student of political history.  Since childhood I have been intrigued by the process of how Kingdoms rose and fell.  In fact, I think it’s a curiosity I've inherited."  He threw Nevetsecnuac a whimsical smile.

“He's withholding something pertinent.”  Nevetsecnuac studied Zie with an impassive silence.

"I regret that I have not had the opportunity to show you my extensive library on this subject but, if you like, we could visit it tomorrow.  It is mainly taken up with documents bearing historical accounts, original writs or copied replicas painstakingly compiled since the time of my grandfather.  I cannot take the credit for my own small contributions."  He pensively drank few more sips of wine.  "It escaped the destruction of the purges simply because the papers are totally unrelated to the history of Wenjenkun.”

“Those accounts you will not find it here or anywhere for that matter, unless you want to view the government archives which house the official, Imperial- sanctioned versions."  There was a hint of disdain in Zaur’s tone as he mumbled this last sentence as he pursed his lips and looked over the pond.

 

Nevetsecnuac discounted this pseudo frank disclaimer which he believed it to be, not entirely the truth and, he deliberately ignored the tiny hint of rebellious discontent in Zaur ‘tone, not wishing to take the bait.  What’s more, he strongly suspected this very resourceful Minister to be in possession of some forbidden material, well-hidden for posterity, if not here, then somewhere within the Minister’s reach.

Fradel’s lack of reaction, meanwhile, had disappointed Zaur Stugr.  Never had he failed in gaining a valuable insight or drawing out pertinent information from the intended recipient (addressee), by his seemingly casual remarks (word) or contacts; yet after seven days Fradel Rurik Korvald was still an absolute mystery to him; the scholar's intrinsic ideas had eluded all scrutiny, remaining as elusive as ever. He could only glean some abstract notions of what Fradel thought and, all Zaur had instead, was a moderate number of unusable impressions. 

Even now Zaur Stugr was not certain whether Fradel was genuinely interested in the history of Kontu or had been listening out of mere politeness. He threw a sidelong glance at his guest.  “How can I reach you?  How can I penetrate that invisible wall you've encased yourself in and tap those inner realms of your thoughts?” He mused sardonically.  “You're unlike anyone I've met, and you are certainly not like any other scholar.  There's no trace of the arrogance and frivolity of the usual unscrupulous literati about you.  Your brilliant mind is the only thing about you that I can be certain of.”

 

                                                                                             ~

 

Wiping the frown from his thoughts before it manifested (became apparent) on his face, Zaur Stugr reached for some morsels and, as he ate in thoughtful silence, he sized up Fradel Rurik Korvald from the corner of his eye.  Suddenly, unconsciously he chuckled.  “Surely, even you are not immune to lust.  No man is.  I simply haven't found the right lure (bait) to entice you with. Hmm, perhaps someone, like the fabled Princess Teuquob, if only she was still alive.”

 Meeting Nevetsecnuac's questioning gaze, he spoke in a soft, almost longing (pining) voice, "As I understand it, and this has been thoroughly verified by all, Princess Teuquob was a rare beauty."  He hesitated.

“Hmm… It would not do to reveal too much, the scope of his influence with the foreign spies and the local underground, no matter how harmless this Fradel Rurik Korvald seemed.”

“My wife is right; of late, I've been indulging in spirits far too much.” He silently admonished himself. 

“I can't afford this failing to get the better of me, not with what's at stake.”  He curtailed his speech and determined to take it easy on the wine yet, for a brief spell his disobedient mind had wandered and, he remembered how he had secretly commissioned his spies in Kontu to secure a portrait of the Princess Teuquob, filled with details taken from all the accounts of those who had known her and still lived.

It had taken great lengths to obtain it, just to satisfy his curiosity.  Expectedly, he had been delighted by the outcome. 

“As a matter of fact,” he reflected,” that had been my only eccentric act of late, until this one.”  

The predictability of his daily routine as a Minister of Ceremony had suffocated him somewhat so he had rushed to the chance to play host to the illustrious Fradel Rurik Korvald when the Prime Minister had brought up the subject of the scholar's lodging.

"I've been told this, of course, through the flattering descriptions of Princess Teuquob in the letters of the time." he quickly corrected himself.

"They describe Princess Teuquob as legendary in her beauty, with none, neither in Kontu nor in Wenjenkun able to equal her in charm or grace.  She would have been a worthy consort for any man, even our Emperor Zakhertan Yozdek."

 Listening to his own intonations, Zaur knew that he had betrayed that desire that had lain in his heart ever since he had viewed that portrait.  The beauties of Channing had paled horribly in comparison, and he had felt cheated somewhat.  After mumbling apologies at his indiscretion, he offered a lame excuse for it all and steered the topic of the conversation onto safer, more superficial concerns.  Subsequently he had played the fool, the antagonist, the diffident boor, the sincere friend, the provocative sophist and once more the wanton womanizer yet; Fradel Rurik Korvald had not taken any of the bait and had remained obstinately as elusive as ever.  He would have to try yet another (peculiar means) atypical angle to draw out Fradel Rurik Korvald.

Meanwhile, Nevetsecnuac had suppressed with remarkable iron will, his intense displeasure and extreme annoyance, rather rage at Zaur's tiresome deceits, his obvious, long-term infatuation and lust for Teuquob, his beloved wife.

 Nevetsecnuac fighting the urge to lash out at Zaur, distractedly at this point, had bent to retrieve a happily chirping cicada by his feet; just then however, quite unexpectedly the long-forgotten key that was kept in the inner pocket of this specific garment, fell to on the terrazzo (tiled flooring) with a loud thud.  Its same time had let off an unusual, curious glint as it caught the juxtaposed reflections of the brilliant moonlight and soft lamplight on its surface. 

Nevetsecnuac abandoned the cicada and quickly reached instead to retrieve the key, as the same time noted with curiosity, from the corner of his eye, Zaur’s fleeting reaction of shock and horror that was quickly replaced by an unemotional mask.

 

“He knows something”

 

 

(END OF SECTION 6)

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