THE FORTUNIST

22. Rayton

“Albeny has three independent territories.”

🕳️🕳️🕳️

Rayton stares dreamily at the blue spread of water before him, connecting at the horizon with a bright and clear sky. It has been seven days. Bough would have found out by now that the Winter Solstice which he is supposed to be preparing for Rayton's coronation is gone. Bough would blame himself and Rayton is rational enough to not feel the kind of guilt that would cause him to say, 'Don't beat yourself up Bough, I'm actually the one who stole it from under your nose thirteen years ago.'

Rayton had always been treated delicately and gravely, something about the responsibility for the whole country being in his hands. He had always understood why he could not have up to half the liberties Lay enjoyed, until he didn't.

By thirteen, Rayton had his first taste of freedom. He had snuck out of the palace into the nearest town. He nearly got robbed so he protected himself with cryfix magic so uncontrolled that the robbers were left injured and currently incarcerated for life. After that first taste, Rayton had gotten greedy and by fourteen, he had fallen in love with a commoner for whom he would sneak out of the palace at least twice a week to meet. She did not know he was a prince and he could not afford to let her know. He had been so smitten with her that when she finally left Alban to get married, his heart cracked into many untraceable pieces.

Lay who was seven then, but who was born with a knack of being able to cough truth out of Rayton had approached the heartbreak situation from a child's perspective. So long as Rayton was careful, he could always warm his bed with women. Countless women.

Women who thought they could manipulate him into loving them or who thought themselves to be hopelessly in love with him. Women who thought they were his dreams come true or who felt entitled to his heart. Women who wanted to be queens or who would have settled for being concubines. In the end, even Elia was not above that and she had to steal his ring to top it all— a cryfix for that matter. There is no way she could have known, but Rayton has this uneasy feeling in his stomach that refuses to go away. Elia would have stolen that ring anyway, cryfix or not. She would have thought it was funny…

Rayton shakes his head to warm up his mind to reality. It is too soon to be thinking bad thoughts about Elia. It is his fault besides. What was he thinking telling her she would roll in mud and wish she could roll in fire?

He cringes. That line had always worked, only this time it might have worked too well.

He is thinking too much. His mind is not warming up to reality in the slightest. Even the spread of blue waters is being relegated to the background of his thoughts. He turns away from it and draws in a calming breath.

"I'm not invincible," he mouths, "I can't solve everything on my own. That's why I have Lay. I can trust Lay. He'll find the ring and I'll find…"

"Pony!"

The jarring name is more effective than any self motivating mantra. Rayton sharply looks up. It is a name he has earned from his colleagues by virtue of his blonde ponytail. The annoying soldiers he works with had pulled a dirty trick once by trying to shave it while he was asleep but his sensitive ears had saved him. They promised that next time, they would douse his rations with sleeping pills. Rayton shudders as he randomly imagines them keeping their word. He is partial to his hair so he also imagines damning it all and going back to the palace just so he could execute the culprits.

"What are you daydreaming about? Becoming a unicorn?" Fleabreath sneers at him. In more ways than one, Rayton reasons Pony is a more attractive nickname than Fleabreath would ever be.

"I… I just…"

"Bah bah bah, I don't want to hear it. Sergeant's going manic on the rest of us yet you are the one who left your post. Do you fancy a beheading?"

"No."

"Back to your post then, shoo while the water's still blue without your blood." Fleabreath stomps off looking like an overgrown rat. What the young soldier lacks in size, he makes up for in his perchant for hurtful words. Rayton has half a mind to pull him back by the scruff of his iron collar and wring him. And if anyone tries to stop him, he'd just reveal the Dropp Seal— a token of authority that placed him directly under the General's protection. Rayton has never been the rash type however, that is Lay's bane. His is women.

All kinds, curvaceous, thin, flat bellied, round waisted, thick lipped… Rayton gives himself a hard slap on the cheek realizing a thorough shake won't cut his straying thoughts. The slap clears his head a bit and he silently asks himself why he is here.

Right, he had come in disguise with fake papers claiming to have been transferred.  He has papers that tie him to regiments of other houses which is why he is confused why he is currently in Xri. Many years ago, he might have made a reckless promise to never set foot in Xri, especially in Cailis. The promise is the reason he had sent Lay instead.

Would the purple haired assassin come to the Port City? Surely, he knows cryfix magic cannot work outside Albeny so he wouldn't be attempting to leave the country anytime soon.

His ears perk up.

The cackle of a flame. His damp station is not really a place for lighting fires. Residents are just content with dumping their decaying waste all around. A fire would only light here with considerable deliberate effort, and whatever was going to burn certainly wasn't going to fall in the category of 'trash'. He hears a few laughs, taunts and insults which he follows just to make sure it isn't a body being burnt.

"Hey!" He calls as he sees some boys between the ages of thirteen and fifteen burning papers, probably trash. They scramble when they see him, or rather his uniform. They leave the fire alight. It would burn out on its own but Rayton's sharp instincts compel him to move towards it.

He quenches the last of the flames and picks up the only surviving paper frayed at the edges. An inscription catches his eyes.

THERE IS NOTHING THE BOUNTY HUNTER CANNOT FIND.