THE FORTUNIST

24. Rayton

“The Sun's Chronicle is a cryfix of House Alban.”

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Thwein had gotten married to her husband in his restaurant which was named after him. No longer. The inscription that read on the ad crumpled beneath Rayton's armour is THE HIVE, FORMERLY CHIVARYZ, PORT AVENUE, CAILIS, XRI.

Rayton is hopeful that things more than that have changed, his eternal ban from the place for example. He strolls in, confident that nobody would stop his pace and slides into an unoccupied private cubicle. He had hid in this particular cubicle once with a certain red head but it was much upgraded now with endless rows of buttons which Rayton pauses to examine. He desires to leave a lasting impression so he decides to ignore the help button.

He starts pressing, making food appear. Water. Oyster stew. Munchnut bread. Braised beef. Stuffed turkey. Nettle soup. Glory Wine. More Glory wine. Iced water. Cherry nuts. Strawberry pie. Wine. Stuffed turkey. Stuffed turkey. Wine. Water…

Soon, the round table is overflowing with dishes but Rayton does not stop tapping. The table becomes a mess from dishes toppling on dishes, causing ceramic and glass wares to crack and clash and smash, creating a ruckus of such magnanimousity. Rayton is pleased by the mutters of apprehension that arise in the kitchen. He smirks, the moment he presses the help button, it won't be too hard to meet the top boss.

His brows furrow in confusion at the woman who eventually stands before him. She certainly is not who he was expecting. This woman is middle aged with salt and pepper hair and a few wrinkles. He frowns. "Are… are you the boss here?" He stammers.

The woman nods slightly. "Fortune greetings kind Sir, how may I be of help?" Her voice is devoid of enthusiasm as her gaze stays on the mess and not on his face. Rayton knows her name is Meda, he had isolated her voice signatures while she was in the kitchen discussing with her panicking workers. He fixes his composure.

"The um… ahem, the table doesn't fit."

Meda's roving eyes show that she might enter into a fit of rage. "Sir, may I be assured of your means to pay for everything here?"

Rayton brandishes an amulet, one of his mother's prized jewelries. He tries to cram it into a tiny empty spot on the table. "Covers the broken dishware many times over. It's not fake. You can check with your authenticity scanner."

"That won't be necessary," Meda says after picking up the amulet. "Jacque Stone," she murmurs.

"You recognise it." There is only one place Jacque Stone can be mined, the Tai Forest. A person would need full blown certifications to enter the much unexplored forest which surrounds the country on all sides leaving only two spaces— one now the Dropp River, the other the Albenian Port.

"But you are just a soldier."

"I uh… I worked for the uh, Lemohn House once. It was a gift for my hardwork."

"And you wished to spend it on food."

Rayton bristles. He must not let this woman confuse him. He is already beating around the bush too much as it is. "Can we get back to my table problem?"

"Of course," Meda acquiesces. She follows up with elaborate apologies but then maintains that there is really not much she can do except implore for the food on the table to be dealt with first. "I'd be glad to help you to the best of my capacity Sir," Meda concludes with a smile Rayton knows is forced.

"There's actually something else you can help me with." Rayton tries to create space on the dining table but his efforts do not work out so well as more dishes and wares clatter to the ground in a wasteful mess. At this point, Meda has lost the self control she has on her expression and her distaste for Rayton flashes through. Rayton gives an apologetic smile even while knowing that won't cut it.