THE FORTUNIST

Rayton

“To qualify for Albenarum, one must have at least one percent affinity with any cryfix.”

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"The Bureau can preserve her body," Bough, a fifty three year old man with ample stature is saying. "Only a small circle would know what has occurred here. We can say she has gone to a… a neighbouring country for delegations and that she used the Dropp River exit so as not to be delayed." He looks at the two princes with big green eyes. It is obvious he yearns for their approval. When Rayton or Lay say no word nor make any action to show they have been listening, Bough heaves his shoulders.

"The… the people shall eventually… they shall eventually find out," Bough stutters nervously.

"Is it not the Bureau's duty to control how information reaches the public?"

"That cannot be done easily anymore since Albenarum was established. With the cryfixes, any random person might have dreamt of this day months before it happened."

"If such person exists, I will personally chop their heads off," Rayton swears in anger. Lay thinks 'Naturally'.

"You cannot please people with outright deceit," Bough truthfully points out, "I'm afraid we must begin coronation plans."

It is pure irony that Bough does not yet know that the cryfixes of the royal house are simultaneously missing. Even if the dead wanted, no such coronation would hold.

"I am not crowning myself king when my mother's soul is missing."

Bough blinks, confused. "I thought… I thought that…"

"That the assassin succeeded? That the queen is actually dead?" Lay asks curtly. "I should be offended that you think that lowly of the Palace Guard."

"But the wound… and and the sabre."

"Enough to cause death but the queen's soul escaped before it. We allowed you to draw your own conclusions Bough because it is your conclusion that will eventually be disbursed to the people. Information to be comprehended by the plain eye alone. A fact which you know Bough, is that we could have sent for the country's Lord General, not for you, Captain of the Bureau."

"I am not sure I follow," Bough drawls.

"Pray tell, how much do you know about Anviem?"

Bough let his eyes wander across the two princes. "Not… much when it comes to translation. Much of it was destroyed during your father's reign because he believed they sowed stories of discord."

"Where his beliefs founded?" Asks Rayton.

"I wouldn't know really, but I vaguely remember that it nearly caused a war during your grandfather's time. There… there was a cult who believed that the magical power of the cryfixes were only of secondary purpose. The notion is absolutely absurd now that I think about it. What can the cryfixes offer us that is greater than magic?" Bough laughs nervously.

"What did this cult believe Bough?"

Bough stiffens. "It is … it is not to be mentioned. The… the late king made sure…"

"The late king is what he is," Lay coldly cuts in, "Late. Answer my brother's question. He is the late king's legitimate heir." Rayton gives Bough a pointed look that seemed to say 'Want me to ask a second time?'. Bough could lose his ears if he demanded that from royalty.

"Your father quenched the cult when he came to power. But they believed…" Bough cringes, "They believed that the cryfixes could lead to another realm and that Anviem Script was the key."

"So our father destroyed the key."

"These beliefs are not…"

Rayton raises a hand to silence Bough.

'Bring ink and paper, please.' Lay hears his brother's voice in his head.

'Could've just said that aloud, you are being dramatic,' Lay shoots back telepathically.

'I just want us to work in sync. It won't help to appear as if we disagree when the throne is vacant.'

Meanwhile, Lay has already obeyed Rayton's secret instruction and he hands an inked quill and a torn parchment to Rayton who collects them without a word. Rayton briskly writes on it. He hands the finished work to Lay who glances at it before stretching it out to Bough. Bough eagerly scrambles forward to collect it. He reads it and pales. More beads of sweat form on his forehead, some rivulets roll down his jowls.

"I… I don't understand this."

"They are the queen's last words."

"Well, they mean nothing."

"They mean something Bough. It is Anviem and since I don't understand the language, I have written it as I heard it in Albenian. This might very well uncover the motive behind my mother's attempted assassination,"

"There are no records of the script anymore…"

"Bureau Captain. Do whatever it takes lest you want to become stable boy."

Bough flounders. "I… I could try to… to find scattered texts. It could take days, months, years even."

"You have hundred days and your time starts now," Rayton declares. "Once I have the crown on my head, the ring on my finger and a wife by my side, I will strip you of everything if you don't have a translation to offer me by then. I mean it Bough. I and my brother would embark on a quest to hunt the assassin. You and the Lord General would be the only ones to truly know. Grant regency to  Lord General Xihan on my mother's behalf and name until we return with answers."

"You… you want to venture out of Alban alone? Perhaps a few guards…"

"I don't want to hear it Bough. Just do your job and prepare the Winter Solstice."

'He doesn't know the ring is missing.'

'Let's make that his problem,' Rayton retorts, 'he doesn't need to know we know.'

'So, this cult. You think it holds credence?'

'It is the only plausible explanation Brother. Our mother has used Anviem to enter a realm beyond the Sun's Chronicle. The assassin knows so he stole away with it. Lay, the deep throated bastard is with our mother's soul.'