LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE ASSASSINS - SECTION 1

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC

THE ASSASSINS- SECTION 1

After the joyous event, Heaven continued to smile on the inhabitants of that remote Mountain dwelling as each continued with their daily routines in blissful co-existence.  Typically, as days turned into weeks and weeks into months, what they did not know, and could not have foreseen was that, in another part of the country, far, far away, the green-eyed providence had already dealt them the hazard card.

It so happened that the ever-present peril Brandt Dustin and Duan, by a quirk of fate had just then attained that singular advantage when, on the heels of several bizarre coincidences, their persistent unholy quest brought them to the vicinity of Heaven's Gate Spiritual Temple. 

Previously, (akin to) resembling two mounted specks, they had spurred their horse’s day after day in an unrelenting gallop to cover considerable ground in one of the most expansive and hostile regions. Having long since lost his bearings, Brandt   nevertheless had done his utmost to keep up with Duan’s unbelievable stamina and furious speed.  In all that time, the latter, a poor company grunted few begrudging words, and this only at nightfall while they partook (ingested) dried sustenance in advance of the negligible, brief respite by the makeshift campfire. Even this slight measure, Brandt   suspected, Duan had only acceded to solely out of consideration for their mounts.

 Solitude or grueling schedule was not the worst of it, Duan’s indifference, his oftentimes manifest condescending side glances or that intolerable, periodic wry grimaces, compounded Brandt’s ire making him yearn for a diversion: even an onslaught from the fiercest bandits was preferable to this!  Brandt   who’d spent most of his life in the hub of a densely populated Capital city, in effort to escape this abhorrent monotony, recently had allowed himself certain secret indulgences of ruminations concerning   those barely passable human habitations and the odd myriad characters and the ensued events that had by degrees, with each leg of the journey gained more significance.  He was amid one such, when just then detecting the slight wisp of dust beyond the next hump (hill) of this irregular, sporadically forested landscape, Brandt   sat up straight and elatedly turned his head askew to speak, but meeting Duan’s mocking, sardonic smile, he quickly checked his tongue.

 Duan simply nodded then spurred his mount in that very direction. Before long they had come upon a very welcome sight, a cluster of devout pilgrims with their necessary entourage, as it was the usual time for the pilgrimage, trudging along and at times managing with some competence, the narrow gravel corridor that cut through a difficult terrain. Knowing at the end of their route there would be a place of worship Brandt   grinned wryly, constraining   his rather bursting excitement. Inwardly however, he was delighted at this unexpected reprieve from the elements and looked forward to ingesting hot meals and resting his weary bones in sure to be a more suitable lodging. The last thing he expected however was the unreasonable, staunch resistance from Duan. Eventually, when Duan’s amusement and the hilarity of Brandt’s ingenious arguments grew tiresome for Duan, he then feigning   to have been persuaded had tersely consented to the plan and the brief stay at the Temple.

 At dusk they stealthily approached the group that had pitched camp and, expanding only a slight effort, obtained the necessary items (religious artifacts) and garb. Now appropriately disguised, at first daylight they quietly adjoined the ranks of countless pious affiliates seeking routine salvation or absolution.

Subsequent days, the resolute snaking line descended then ascended the strenuous, oftentimes challenging, winding path to finally arrive at a clearing before the towering imposing arch.  All pilgrims now welcomed, right away gongs were sounded with a deafening   noise, after which the thick metal gates slowly creaked open to pave the way. The enthusiastic devotees without (apparent) ostensible, serious scrutiny or hindrance, with that unmistakable excited aura all streamed in through the wide-open gates to crowd into the courtyard.

In no time at all the well-organized Hostellers succinctly saw to it that all pious visitors were duly registered, their special needs promptly addressed, and all were comfortably settled in their assigned quarters.

Likewise, after meeting the necessary expenses, Duan and Brandt   were also assiduously escorted to their modestly furnished quarters. Duan’s apparent preoccupation did little to mitigate Brandt’s disdainful air. Forgoing idle chatter, he had disappeared the moment Brandt’s back was turned, and upon his return, refused to give any explanation for his long absence.

That evening’s repast (at the Refectory) was tad too plain and coarse for Brandt ’s taste, still, it being palatable enough than most other places there’d been too, and feeling famished, he’d had his fill and washed it all down with refreshing liquids, mistakenly forgoing digestive tea.  Thus, in the small hours while all patrons and devotee guests were dead to the world, Brandt   moreover suffering dyspepsia, had endlessly turned, and tossed. Sometime or rather, he must have fallen asleep, for then he was cast into the throes of the same nightmare that tortured his soul.

In this horrific dream, once again he saw himself in that most wretched state, suffering the eternal torments of Hell. His hair disheveled, clothes torn, bleeding from countless lacerations, he was being subjected to the worst kind of humiliation and excruciating pain inflicted by those abominable, vile creatures of the underworld. Contemptible eunuch Egil Viggoaries was there also, he was in charge, laughing up a storm as he devoured the entrails of yet another poor victim squealing in pain, while at the same time he poked and prodded the unfortunate captive.

His father in the adjoining cell, suffering the infinite unspeakable tortures and beleaguered and besieged much in the same vile way, between his anguished, accusatory screams cursed Brandt   incessantly for having failed to avenge him. “Damn you, damn you coward…You are no son of mine! Oh, I should have killed you in your crib, while you slept and be done with the shame you have brought upon me…Shame, oh shame, shame!”

His anguished soul pushed to the brink Brandt; yet again (same as always) willed himself awake from this inexorable, unvarying nightmare.

 He lay still; casting his blank (vacant) gaze about for some time, inwardly striving hard to reassure his soul, his being of his actual present status, for his ears persisted in ringing with those hurtful curses! When after an extended period those relentlessly vivid, dreadful images of the nightmare refused to recede, determinedly he sprang from the bed, quickly dressed, and then exited the room for some breath of fresh air.

 After a time, still reluctant to return to sleep, he strolled aimlessly about the grounds. There were smaller temples dotting this sector, each housing a different God to accommodate different regions of the Country. Depending on need, devotees’ (aficionados’) visited the specific Deity, made offerings, and burned incense to it; then in supplicate, prayed or asked favors. Brandt   differing in his religious beliefs from this order, he cared not for the temples, images of Gods, their idols, or the elaborate displays.

After only a cursory glance at one such temple, Brandt   wrinkled his nose in disgust, turned, and headed out of the building. He strolled through the embellished gardens dappled with fountains and ponds teaming with rare fish, but once more he found nothing extraordinary to warrant his interest, he had seen far better elsewhere, so he bypassed these also to reach a more desolate area (corner).

Now, in addition to the usual sentries posted at the gate and the lookout towers, each night a different pair of monks were assigned to walk the grounds. Shunning   all of these, Brandt   took the unusual course, delving into forested segments, and by following unfrequented paths he emerged through the bushes at the (Dorter: which was the monk’s dormitory) private quarters of monks.

He was about to turn back when his sharp ears just then picked up the hushed voices of a couple of monks engaged in jovial conversation. His eyes searched the compound till he spotted a barely visible, dim light emanating from the stilts of one of the windows, a detached dwelling at the far end, nestled amidst the pines. Intrigued, he stealthily advanced towards it. The windowpane was left a tiny bit ajar to allow the fresh night’s air to come in. Brandt   quietly drew close and hiding in the shadows, he was poised to listen.

Whereas most slept blissfully (in their private cells), resting from days grueling chores, this odd pair was animatedly indulging in private conversation whilst sipping periodically from a cup that from time to time got refilled from a jar.

Brandt’s curiosity peaked, same time he was amused as he became more certain that this was no ordinary tea or other such sanctioned refreshments in which they were partaking.

"Brother Muro, I feel I must make a mention of this." One of them suddenly exclaimed in a pressing tone.

"What?"

"I am of the opinion that those two are not of our following."

Brandt   smiled wryly, grasping at once the subject of their conversation being himself and Duan.

"You’ve sounded (echoed) my own suspicions, Brother Fayet,” the other interposed.

"Perhaps that is why the High Priest granted them no audience and why they were allowed only a paltry couple of night’s stay."

"I was under the impression that couple of nights, was all they had asked for." Fayet countered.

“You should know,” Muro checking his annoyance, grunted.

"It’s not as if they can’t afford a lengthier stay; their money purse is weighty enough. Pity they will miss all the major events. Come to think of it, neither showed the least bit of interest in the religious itinerary, citing pressing engagements elsewhere! What did they hope to accomplish in this short span, I mean, why bother to come at all, why not postpone it till another more opportune time?”

"I am in total agreement with you, brother Fayet; yet no orders are given to keep them under close scrutiny or any sort of surveillance. As far as I know, no one is assigned to their case.” Muro fell silent and waited for confirmation that was not long in coming.

“You are correct on that assumption. “Fayet responded with a certain air of importance. He should know; he had three or four sources that always kept him up to date with anything of importance.

“Tell you what though, I think this is a grave oversight; why the dark complexioned one, the mere mention of him makes the hair on my neck stand on end, there’s something frightfully evil and unholy about him, and certainly I am not fooled by their humble, reserved almost pious attitudes.”

 "I concur.” Muro interjected. “They look quite formidable and if I dare venture a hunch, on the prowl for something deadly. And not in the least bit interested in absolving their decidedly massive, accrued sins. And know what else?” Muro gasped, "I can't shake the feeling that they leave death and destruction in their wake. This I feel deep in my bones to be true. I only hope their bad intentions aren't in any way directed at us or at the Order, especially now that we have grown so complacent within this last decade."

"Complacent, no, it only seems that way to you perhaps. But know what; you may have something there, especially about that one. He strikes me as someone quite ruthless and bloodthirsty too." Fayet thoughtfully intoned, as he stroked the top of his head.

Astute observation, Brandt   grinned. Wonder if it is enough to save your hides?

 "As it were, I did hear something about them asking some pretty strange questions before they retired." Fayet excitedly, recalling it to mind just then, put in.

"Really, what kind of questions; and whom did they ask? I was led to believe with their disdainful air, they had hardly dispensed a word to anyone, not even to brother Cui assigned to tend to their needs."

"You know I can’t enumerate; I’m always lost on fine details.” Fayet was being coy, maddeningly so. Seeing the frown on Muro’s face, he relented. “But if you must know, I just overheard Priest Lu raising certain objections about the strangers to Priest Nui."

"Fine one you are, stringing me along than leaving me high and dry. Are you trying to teach an old dog a new trick?"

"Ha and why not? But really, Brother Muro, I am being straight. I really do not know the true extent of their questions.  If you are so curious, why don't you ask Priest Lu next time you see him."

 “You know, in all the time I've been here, I have never encountered a stranger personages as these two save for that other bunch, you remember, the one-armed man's group last year and all that deferential treatment they got, even though they’d shown up at such an unusual time.”

Their idle chatter and useless bickering had by then begun to grate on Brandt’s nerves and he was about to take his leave, when the sudden mention of the one-armed man rekindled his interest.

Brandt   leaned over and peered through the crack unseen, to get a clearer view of the two conversing monks.

“You do remember them, right? “Fayet waited to receive a nod from Muro before continuing. “But at least they were pious, and I can say it with measure of certainty, very much in earnest with their prayers; after all, they did partake in all the religious ceremonies so hastily organized on their behalf. Our discerning   Abbot sure was interested in them and I believe Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn truly did enjoy their company…particularly the one-armed elder. His Eminence Boqast Tizanzenn conversed with him endlessly it seemed, something I had not seen the Abbot do in a long, long while.  Come to think of it, not ever! I mean, he is always so reservedly serious and seeks solitude.”

To this Muro gravely nodded in concurrence. “Hmmm, as I recollect, giving in to your suspicious nature for a long spell you did entertain colorful, hilarious suppositions about them also. Is it possible you could be just as wrong now? “

“I still say there was something quite intriguing, even mysteriously fantastic about that group, more so with that golden haired youth.”  Fayet responded indignantly, irritated and even bit hurt by the other’s persistent doubt where this matter was concerned.

"Now, what was it again,” Muro with his innate sadistic nature, could not resist needling him further. “Yes, now I remember. You had based your entire hypothesis on that list and the unfounded claim that the eldest of them had inscribed on the prayer requisite form the deposed monarch, Zuronghan  Therran Valamir’s and, what other name, oh yeah, Zhon something.  Hah, and this you had supposedly uncovered despite it being carefully erased by the alleged culprit!  Really, do you still assert the claim that they were spies?"

"A fine confidant you are!” Fayet, knitting his stubby brows hotly retorted. "Why don't you just below louder and announce it to the whole world? Walls have ears you know or is it your intention to land me in serious trouble! You said you would never mention it, is this how you keep your word?"

Muro’s gaze mockingly swept the room (immediate perimeter). “You see anyone else here? three or four odd ghosts, ha, ha” He snickered, shaking his head.

 “You have always been far too paranoid brother.  All are peacefully asleep in their beds already, only a fool would be out of a warm bed at this time of night when they don't have to be." Observing the other’s rising foul mood however, he relented.

 "Oh, why be so touchy, brother? I was just toying with you."  In a serious tone then he quickly added. "Besides, you know as well as I, nothing further came of it." 

At this juncture (point in time) Brandt, stepping out from the shadows turned the knob, brazenly walked in and said, “That remains to be seen.”

The startled Fayet and Muro both jumped up, spilling the contents of their cups.

"Oh, it's you, sir.” Muro, recognizing Brandt, quickly found his tongue.

Fayet getting a grip was about to coolly castigate (rebuke) this rude intrusion when Brandt’s poignant look promptly silenced him.

Concealing his contempt for the two for more can be attained by a glib tongue; Brandt   in the next instant however, sporting a wry grin (false smile), somewhat congenially, accosted them and extended his polite greetings, as well, his seemingly sincere apologies for the sudden intrusion that had inadvertently alarmed them. Then getting right to the point, he asked, "Please do not be offended but, though I did not mean to, I’ve accidentally overheard the singular topic of your conversation regarding the one-armed man.” His blunt speech had left no room for denial.

  “Be assured that this information shall be kept in the strictest confidence.” smiling, in a more conciliatory tone he then quickly added. “It so happens that I am searching for one such person. But first, may I inquire after the one-armed gentleman's name so as to be absolutely ascertained that we are speaking of the same being."  He paused for a response that was not forthcoming, checking his rile nevertheless, he sternly added, "The individual I am seeking is named Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon".

 Though he had observed the slight discoloration in Fayet’s face (cheeks), Muro had been far better at masking his shock and threw Brandt   a curious, stupefied look, as if to say, “Have I heard you right?”

Brandt   disregarding this, in an even tone asked further, “More importantly, may I inquire how long ago the visitors been at these premises, and upon their departure which direction did they take? I am disposed to showing my proper appreciation as well my discretion, for any such useful information either of you gentle monks may deign to impart."  His hand rested on the bulge in his garment where his money purse rested.

What a gall! What nerve! Muro thought. Barging in here without shame, blatantly playing a cat and mouse game with us than assuming we are bribable. After all that, am I supposed to accept that his intentions are perfectly honorable?

 

Fayet inward queries were similar in nature, though slightly more selfish and deviant. How can I be certain that, after he extracts the information, he would not then expose my indiscretions, a sure violation, to my superiors? Though, I confess, the size of that purse is mighty tempting!

 

In the end both had decided to play it safe. "Sir, you must have misunderstood our repartee, (banter) hmm, idle conversation. We really made no such reference to any such person.”

“I’m in agreement with my fellow monk here.” Muro quickly interjected, even though he knew it would be a futile act. “We tend to exaggerate facts during our discourse, a harmless feat really, for the purposes of spicing up the exchange. As for the name you just mentioned, you must surely jest. Was that not the traitor Lord whose name you spoke of, long since dead?"  Frowning, he added, "Besides, for your own safety's sake, you should not be stirring at this late hour so far from the guest compounds. Suppose we mistook you for a prowler and caused you unwarranted harm?"

"That's right", Fayet stupidly chimed in, "for, on top of that, at night many evil spirits are abound."

Muro turned a furious face, an unconcealed irked glare at his friend.

"Both of your concerns are touching", Brandt   mocked, "but I am most capable of defeating all manner of foe, whether it be man, ghost or goblin, so you needn't be concerned for my safety.  Now, gentle monks, please do not insult my intelligence any further with your muddled contentions and flimsy excuses. Perhaps I have not made myself perfectly clear.”  His icy tone biding no argument, sent chills down Fayet’s spine. Even Muro felt the slithering unease taking hold of his entire body. “You shall be well compensated for your troubles; as well, I mean to extend to you both, my utmost discretionary tact.”

I do so detest such arrogance.   Still with the cat out of the bag … Fayet had already begun to relent; very much tempted he was, with the promise of generous funds. Besides, if I do not take the initiative Muro surely will. Then I would feel horrible; wouldn't I, having lost this golden opportunity?  Still, I will have to exercise due caution for there is a lot at stake here. Can I do that, I wonder, and still benefit from this deal?

Here Muro differed in his contemplation, being the worldlier one of the two; meanwhile he could not shake the overwhelming sensation of peril and being trapped. Unable to decide on the right course, frightened of Fayet’s innate weakness, the two exchanged guarded, dubious looks.

Whatever the reason (cause), they both held their tongues and donned an annoyed look instead, feigning disapproval at this stranger's audacity.

Brandt, on the point of losing his patience, what had just then crossed his mind, if they had only known, would have sent more icy chills down their spine, and cast their souls to flight. 

Unlike Duan however, Brandt   knew when it was wise to constrain his murderous intent; for these temples with their strong political backers, could land him in grievous, unwarranted trouble that could hamper his cause. So, with admirable restraint, he again addressed them.

"Sirs, this pointless delay is beginning to try my patience."    This time there was no mistaking it, his insidious smile, deliberately, did not mask the vile murderous intent that had registered fleetingly in his eyes.

Fayet (assimilating this) did his best to slow his beating heart, to purge his mind of those frightful, ugly thoughts but his sallow (pale) complexioned face still contorted with fear. He opened his mouth to comply when Muro held him back by tugging at his sleeve.

"We know not of his true identity, sir, being only lowly monks, otherwise we would not have referred to him only as the one-armed man.” Muro’s indignation anew fueling his courage, he stood his ground.

“You must discretely pose your question to one more knowledgeable than we, perhaps to Prior Skceno.” Fayet suggested meekly, not wishing to be undone.

"Very well, then. I will trouble you no further. Good night gentle monks."  With that, Brandt   turned to go.

All the blood in his veins rushed hotly to Fayet's face. He now regretted his hasty lie, having come this close to receiving the sum of money. What was I thinking of? Is not this fear imagined? This is a fortuitous blessing that Muro and I stood to gain. Is there a way I wonder; can I recoup (redeem) this rare opportunity?

Fayet was a grasping man by nature, and he was now dismayed over the possibility of letting all that money slip through his fingers. Eventually he decided that all was not lost yet, he could still catch up with latter if he hastened. He on some pretext therefore quickly left his friend. But no sooner had Muro retreated inside, and his door was closed shut than Fayet with certain agility, sprang into action and rushed to accost the stranger.

In truth Brandt   had dallied with his advance, anticipating the expected outcome. Hearing Fayet’s call, Brandt   stayed his steps and half turned. Fayet straining   to maintain an even breath, hastened at once to apologize, offering a flimsy excuse for his show of hesitancy, then broaching a matter disguising the query, sought to learn the amount the stranger was willing to proffer.

 At this point Brandt   gave a sly smirk then, opening   his purse held the sum in his palm as bait. Out of earshot of Muro, Fayet sang like a bird, spilling his guts out to tell every detail he could think of, that pertained to Stark, his group and much, much more.

After Fayet finished saying all there was to say, Brandt with his contemptuous smile nodded his head and made a pretense of accidentally dropping the sum at his feet just as he was about to hand it to Fayet.

The monk was forced to bow to the stranger's feet to pick them up one by one, and when he straightened up (rose) with the collected, gleaming sum, the other had already gone.

Muro had watched this disgrace from a concealed position at some distance. Rage swelled within his chest as he shook his head in indignation at the shameful conduct of his friend. Coming forward now, he fervently grumbled at Fayet.

"How can you allow that man to humiliate you in that way?” he stormed, shaking an accusatory finger at Fayet.

"What? What are you talking about?"

"He purposefully dropped that money to make you lose face. Have you no shame?"

"No, it is you who are making things up to embarrass me. You are just jealous because I received this sum instead of you."  Fayet trembled with rage, then calmed a bit to say in a milder tone, "Brother, don't you know that I mean to give you your share?"  He drew out a small amount and offered it to Muro.

“I wouldn't touch his money even if I was destitute." Muro spat on the ground as he pushed Fayet’s hand away. He was still furious at the stranger. “Manipulations, threats weren’t enough; he had to insult you as well.”

"What did you say, Brother Muro?” Fayet pretended not to have heard.

"Oh, forget it!” Muro huffed exasperatedly as he turned to walk away.

"Hey, wait up. What is with you anyway?"  Fayet swiftly deposited the entire amount into his inner pocket, rushed to catch up with his friend.

                                                       ~                                                

 

(END OF SECTION 1)

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE TRIP TO THE MONASTERY - SECTION 2

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC

 THE TRIP TO THE MONASTERY

SECTION 2

 

 Anticipating tad spare time before their so-called admittance to the grounds, Stark, dawning a patient, placating smile, succinctly and in measured tone next imparted to Teuquob of the fierce struggle that had lasted for more than two hundred years of Wenjenkun’s history between some eighteen religious sects- with the resultant, subsequent fortifications. “Regrettably,” he then reiterated, “at the conclusion of this bloody, turbulent era, thirteen sects with their ritualistic practices, had ceased to exist and their places of worship, along with untold, ancient books bearing incalculable wisdom, rare works of art, had all been incinerated or razed to dust. “

The subsisting five, adopting cautionary measures, had consequently sought to gain the patronage of the reigning monarchs and their overlords. Having succeeded in this aim, these religious orders had for a time enjoyed exemptions from all levies, conscript labor, and further boon, became the recipient beneficiaries of abounding lush tariffs and precious offerings. Naturally, they had flourished in both power and opulence, with their resounding vast religious spheres of influence lasting for decades. When the last sovereign faced the danger of usurpation from Field Marshall Zuronghan and once more the entire country was cast into turmoil by the warfare (skirmishing) between loyalists and supporters of the Field Marshall, these five sects had remained in aloof obscurity, claiming vacillating, irresolute allegiances, pending of course on the outcome of latent battle- to the portended victor.  As a result, they had been spared but only just, from the wrath and the subsequent bloodletting that had ravaged the country from then eventual, victorious Zuronghan, in the wake of his irrevocable ascent to the throne. 

Kept under a watchful eye, the small number of temples belonging to these five sects, scattered throughout, in remote, high altitude, inaccessible settings, were allowed to persevere with their precarious existence. Heaven’s Gate Spiritual Temple being one such, only the most devout, well-endowed pilgrims undertook such a daunting task of the trek to here, during the short summer months, as this also happened to be the safest time. Gone were the days when mass amounts of pilgrims, despite the distance and grueling aspects of travel to such heights, still made the journey required for their soul’s eternal salvation. Then also in those bygone days, the steady streams of rich carriages, mounted gentry and ordinary folk on foot, beasts of burden laden with bribes, gifts, and offerings - all contended for space on these narrow stairways leading up to the Temple.

According to each pilgrim’s means- typically sometimes these important guests staying the entire two months - certain provisions would be made within the temple grounds for their suitable accommodation. Private apartments, set in enclosures within the high walls, affording them both privacy and comfort, each with countless rooms complete with kitchen and courtyard, during high season these would be thronged with incessant, beehive activity as most influential guests came equipped with their large entourage of wives, children, stewards, servants, and slaves.

These compounds stood vacant for the ten remaining months of the year; but during high season these and the rest of temple grounds came alive liken to the sleeping giant being awakened. Days were filled with the most elaborate set of ceremonies of worship, whether it is for the sake of the ancestors, or for specific deities, or for other sacrifices. The nights were reserved for modest vegetarian feasting sometimes lasting till dawn, in the wake of charged spiritual lectures, and grueling nocturnal sacred rituals that invigorated the appetite.

At appointed times during the week the Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn, aged 89 years and who, like his predecessors, laid claim to immortality, presided over the grandest of ceremonies. At this time, acting as host (emcee), His Eminence, through his silent prayers, directly communicated the requests of his guests to the appropriate God in charge.  For all this, privilege the guests paid handsomely.

Indeed, with those days long gone, some aspects remaining the same, the Temple welcomed the devout, affluent few during the summer months; whilst for the remainder, the inaccessible Sanctuary banned ingress to all supplicates. During such isolation, The Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn, Prior Sckeno, Precentor Steran, Sacrist Yun, Hosteller Ruwo, Almoner Qure, Celarer Wou, Infirmarian Wuno were proficient in their various tasks. In addition, they and the junior priests along with the novices devoted their time to highly regiment cleansing rituals, prayers and other such cultivation of their souls. Each had to partake in grueling martial exercises, to strengthen the body as well. For humility, no task being too minuscule, they took turns in overseeing certain necessary chores such as working in the kitchens, dormitory, granary, lavatory, infirmary, as grounds’ keeper, work on building repair and so forth. They would cultivate gardens medicinal or otherwise, copy ancient manuscripts, practice art and calligraphy, meditate, and do mental exercises to keep in top physical and mental form.

Notwithstanding, for the purposes of security, Stark had deliberately chosen this particular period, of early spring, to gain admittance to the temple grounds.

The guards at the outposts, positioned in accordance with the four directions of the earth, had already forwarded notice of their approach to the Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn. On His Holinesses’ explicit orders, no contradictory action had been taken to dissuade or impede their progress; nevertheless, as added precaution the party had still been detained at the gate house for a spell whilst pertinent things were sorted out.

Most intrigued, Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn, carefully observing the said object, to ascertain its validity, inwardly questioned, why would latter take such a risk, what indeed propelled him for this dangerous precedence? Then after some moments of thoughtful deliberation, shrugged, He would learn of the reasons soon enough.

His Holiness then gave his consent for their admittance and issued the orders to his subordinates accordingly. All inconvenienced, the monks hurried the novices to open apartments and make ready the necessary rooms to receive the guests.  Meanwhile Stark, Svein and Teuquob were directed to the waiting hall where, with great courtesy, they were shown to their seats and promptly served some fragrant, herbal tea. The horse had already been led away to the stables to be properly looked after there.

 No sooner had the guests finished their hot tea and the cups had been cleared away, then a priest calling himself Lucon, accompanied by subordinate monks, came forth to make official introductions and to extend prescribed greetings and felicitations.

LUKON

 It was then that prudent Stark, deciding on the spur of the moment, had introduced Teuquob and Svein as his offspring.

 Looking at them askew, Stark presently concluded, that the two were indeed most believable as siblings, so, none would question the validity of his claim.

 As the subordinate monks stood to the side, prudish Lucon acting in capacity as the spokesperson for the Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn, promptly relayed next his superior’s formal greetings, offered proper apologies and gave succinct reasons as to why his superior was presently indisposed to receiving them in person.  

Stark in keeping with this façade, with humble, yet grave demeanor, consistent with protocol- satisfied latter’s subsequent, circumspect inquiries, by offering his apologies in conjunction with his pseudo reasons for their inconvenient (ill-timed), yet compulsory intrusion.

Svein a quick study, had followed suit and played along his part admirably.

For even in this House of Gods, there might dwell unseen eyes and ears of a mole, a conduit for the sweeping tentacles of the reigning monarch that was known for his mistrustful nature.

Allegedly much in demand, Lucon, professing his apologies, had then regrettably entrusted his guests to a disciple Lu and took his leave.

Disciple Lu armed with a bound book and writing implements, first dipped his brush in ink and then promptly, with apt efficiency registered in shorthand script form, all the pertinent facts concerning their visit, their immediate and long-term requirements, the planned length of their stay and so forth. After thanking Stark and extending his assurance of speedy compliance with all the noted requirements, he also took his leave.

 Senior Monk named Fayet subsequently coming forth to introduce himself; he then announced that he was entrusted with the task of overseeing to all their personal requirements and needs during the length of their stay.

After their luggage was assiduously carried away by minion novices, portentous Fayet then ushered the honored guests to their hastily prepared quarters. On the way he apologized profusely for the lack of a welcoming committee, and later still, for the inaptness of their rooms, hinting, with brazen audacity, that more appropriate quarters could have been duly arranged had they only abided by the rules and came at the allocated time. Expressing astonishment cloaked in genuine concern, he then blabbed on endlessly about prior patrons that had sought the same but had been typically denied entry and in one or two such instances with the resultant, totally unwarranted reprisals/retaliation, which had been to their person.

SENIOR MONK FAYET

Lost in his own head, he continued mumbling to himself in audible form and venturing a guess that,  surely Stark’s manner of speech that had marked him as a man of great learning and of high position, and that his company also being seemingly significant personages- again deviating from norm of the prescribed rules of their order- they had been exempted from the forthright inquiry into their ability to meet the anticipated expenses.

Though annoyed, Stark kept his temper in check with this inconsistent monk, who with his persistent, not so subtle prying, sought to gain certain insights as to their person and endeavor.

After Stark, Svein and Teuquob were settled in their adjacent quarters they were left to refresh (clean up), have a change of clothing and take some well-earned rest.

The following day they received the expected invitation from the Prior to call on Abbot Boqast   Tizanzenn. Their visit to him, though brief, was still most informative and harmonious.

ABBOT BOQAST TIZANZENN

 Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn brilliant, quite discerning, and wise, was a most spontaneous, charming, unassuming and unconventional priest.  Despite his advanced age of over eighty (89), he was charged with energy and talked and moved with the vitality of a young man. His high office gave him no superior airs and he carried the humblest view of life.

 From the first, Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn had pretended and so treated Stark as though a new acquaintance, mere stranger; nevertheless, an influential person of means and a potential benefactor, decidedly one held in favor with the present Sovereign and so well deserving of deferential treatment.  This had been enough, though not entirely, to dissuade many resident monks, from unwarranted questions and interest.

 The next evening, according to protocol, the second invite had followed, requesting Stark, his son Svein and daughter Teuquob’s presence at a small ceremonial dinner in the secluded Jade and Gold Harmony Hall.  At this informal gathering the Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn, coming forward to greet Stark personally, had first inquired after the other’s health and comfort then escorted Stark to the place of honor, on the podium, to seat right next to him. 

Carefully selected small, combined group of covert loyalists, trustworthy associates and other such notable priests that were present, in response to this well calculated feat; expectantly, with their curiosity peaked, they strained their eyes and sharpened their wits, and so easily ingested, regurgitated, the ensued, so-called vital info pertaining to their guests. An accomplished mean, those suspect spies rested easy in mind, that Stark had to have been an influential personage in covert service of reigning monarch, and therefore, one not to be further prod, to be crossed, (to be trifled with,) or informed upon.

All through dinner, Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn, endowed with a special gift of the gab, chatted amicably, cryptically with Stark, with nonbeing the wiser; and both in turn was apprised of the most recent developments, in that assumed role of honored guest and host. 

Also deceived, Svein took delight in the animated ease with which two brilliant minds Stark and His Holiness, conversed, in contrast to Stark’s usual reserved air. The contagious sincerity of delightful smiles and harmonious chatter permeated throughout the night, as they partook in that simple, yet most enjoyable fare.

Subsequent morning Stark received the customary request to provide the list of names for which he wished prayers to be offered to, by His Holiness. Stark quickly overcoming the slight mishap, completed the unusual list on the offertory paper provided, in Svein’s presence, so that he too will be in the know. After placing the information in a sealed envelope which had been courteously provided to ensure the guests a certain measure of privacy, Stark then summoned Fayet and handed it over, to be delivered to the hand of the Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn himself.

All during, owing to his training, Svein had most admirably masked his surprise, conducting himself with certain decorum. The instant Fayet and the attendant novices had cleared the room, Stark turning his attention back on Svein, his face bearing the strangest of expressions and forcing a half smile to his lips, he then said, “I am disposed to answer any questions you may wish to pose regarding the list, Svein.”

This unexpected turn threw Svein into a quandary. True, it was his wish to learn who the third name on the list had been, “Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon” that of which his uncle had inadvertently, what it seemed to have been a moment’s lapsed judgment, had in encrypted form written it down, but then quickly, most meticulously taken the pains to permanently erase all traces of it, and supplanting it with “Furen  Bevrad ”.  First, he had ever seen of it, Svein had been rather perplexed by this presumably mystery relation or clansman bearing the surname Zhon?  More pressingly however, he wanted to know why had Stark, forgoing precaution, had written first on the list, albeit in encrypted form, the late Sovereigns name?

But, abandoning his curiosity of the first issue for the sake of the second and the disquiet it entailed, he replied, “Uncle, please forgive my audacity, but I must question the prudence…. umm, the first name on the list.….? Sir, I meant to say, how you can be ascertained of His Holiness’s….?”” Svein abruptly fell silent, noting Stark’s sudden stern expression, liken to gathering storm, as all color drained from latter’s face.

Now he’s s gone and done it; his uncle was furious with him! 

But, before Svein could explain, “Svein, by your words you have disgraced His Eminence and me.”  Stark’s icy retort resounded in the air. Then quickly curtailing his fury, he hissed: “I am aware of the far-reaching tentacles of that usurper, that villainous, self-proclaimed monarch who now sits falsely on the Celestial Throne...! How dare you be so impertinent as to question the soundness of my judgment?”

STARK

 Too choked up to continue, he abruptly rose and, with a sweep of his sleeves, left the room.

Svein was left in a most distraught state. Seated motionless in his chair, his head hung low, and his eyes stared blankly at the floor.  But his agony was not prolonged, as Stark, in an unexpected turn, re-entered the room in a more calmed state. Svein rushed to kneel before his uncle, offering his most humble apologies, “Forgive me, uncle, for speaking out of turn as I did just now!”

 “How do you suppose, in all the years of seeming isolation, I have been apprised of the most recent, pertinent developments? And where do you think most of your manuscripts that you have so diligently studied, were sourced from?” Stark drawing close whispered in Svein’s ear, same time offering a conciliatory hand, raised Svein to his feet. “Dear nephew, please do not burden yourself further with worry as it was only for a moment, that I had the lapse of judgment, before quickly rectifying it. But you are not entirely in the wrong; for as far as I can note, and His Eminence expressed the same, even in this remote segment, there have been some minor infractions, so called infiltration by the questionable, noted few. But as I understand it, they shall soon, along with their accomplices, be expunged.”

Once more seated, Stark thoughtfully stroked his beard and, after some time, added, “Meanwhile, we continue as before, only, despite all seeming appearances be more vigilant. Teuquob must be apprised of the developments also, especially, where that monk Fa, is concerned.”  Svein nodded his compliance; for Stark needed no further words to make clear his meaning.

But was it an oversight, Svein inwardly queried, why had Fa been assigned to such close quarters, to oversee their personal needs!

 “Sometimes it is better to keep those questionable beings in closer proximity, so as to steer them to the course of seemingly plausible misinformation.” Stark, anticipating this also, simply shrugged. “Regardless, Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn is a discerning man, I’m sure he has his reasons.”

“As for the other matter,” Stark then strove to explain, “I am most appreciative of the tact you have demonstrated, despite your curious nature, and the way you have admirably abstained, even now, from questioning me on the supplanted name. I can therefore give you this assurance, when the timing is right, in not-too-distant future, you shall be apprised of the facts, and that is to say, your quandary shall be resolved.” However, Stark falling silent, inwardly professed, I could not leave out the first cryptic name off the list that was non-negotiable!

 “Nevertheless, “he then added in measured tone. “bear in mind that so long as I live and breathe, I was once, and still am, His Late Highness Zuronghan  Therran Valamir’s vassal and, as a son bears absolute loyalty to his father, so must every subject to their Leigh.”

He lapsed into prolonged silence thinking, “By rights, when His Royal Highness ascended into the heavens, I should have followed him there to serve him in the afterlife. But, alas, I must endure this great shame and go on living in this world of shadows a little while longer, because I was entrusted with the responsibility of caring for you, the last of your father’s line and, since I had given my most powerful oath to your father long before this great injustice to my Sovereign, I was bound by honor to keep it. But, once my obligation is fulfilled, and I am free…” Looking away, he again inwardly reiterated. “Yes, only then, can I join my beloved Sovereign and be able to carry peace and contentment in my heart.”

 Emotionally charged, thinking of his forsaken son, his eyelids just then brimmed with tears. But a long time ago Stark had dispatched orders that no action should be taken and in so doing, inevitably condemned his own flesh and blood to a lifetime of misery. The up-to-date news from Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn had again rehashed old wounds. He had hoped and prayed that his son would be spared and his life extinguished long ago. But all this time he had been kept alive, just barely, in a dungeon. Years of torment had so maimed and disfigured   Bern Teodemer Lothair, that informant had been repulsed by the gruesome image (that greeted his eyes), the prisoner more an animal than a being.

Pitying him, he had had entertained the notion of defiance and somehow effect a mercy killing.  Still kept as a decoy to draw Stark or his supporters out, Bern Teodemer Lothair had been so well guarded however, that the informant reluctantly in the end had aborted the intent.

This (fact that so little can be done) had always weighed heavily on Stark’s conscience and now even in this place all he could offer was his silent prayers of solace and perhaps a quick end to his son’s life. But that would not be (happening, transpire); he knew the extent of Zakhertan Yozdek’s barbarism.

All this while, an unspeakable sorrow had also grazed Svein’s heart, as he with shame, presently bowed his head in thoughtful silence. The grave atmosphere of the room dense with raw emotions was suddenly startled, when Teuquob just then knocked at the door and asked permission to enter.

 Before Stark, now composed, voiced his consent, he turned to Svein and mumbled, “Teuquob need not know, the entirety of the list.” 

Svein nodded his head, in understanding. He wished to say more to his uncle, but words failed him. Stark gave a placating smile as he looked sympathetically into the young man’s eyes then, remembering Teuquob at the door, called out to her, his permission to enter.

                                                                                                ~

(Stay tuned, for there’ll be more unexpected and amusing developments unfolding in the next post  of “The Trip to the Monastery” – Section 3)