It was the most aesthetically awkward part of summer for Xet, when his blossoming pink and white scales were in the process of transitioning to the burning oranges of autumn. Despite this bright mismatch in colouration, Xet was not troubled, it was not as if anyone would see him. He very well hidden. No, not because of his daffy palette. To the contrary, he enjoyed people pointing things out about his gorgeous scales — even bad things; it meant the other person was paying attention. Xet hid because he was a fugitive. His crime was being born the prince of Merilevä and not being keen on the whole “royalty” thing. Terrible optics for his family who, upset about their only heir abandoning his duties, pursued Xet with all resources at their disposal. They relied on a vast network of informants, manpower and wealth. Other countries were happy to help, the idea of heirs leaving could not catch on.
So Xet fled, and hid, and found respite on the other side of the world. He felt safer here in Cajuara, away from the clutches of the provinces of Claridia that pursued him, but he could not risk exposing himself. But despite realising his dream of having nothing official to accomplish, his grand vision of a new life lacked one thing: a lake. But a lake was an inert, dull thing without plants. Yes, what Xet needed was a beautiful garden of his own creation.
“Why couldn’t my parents just let me be the warden of the Forest of Kelp without all the other annoying tasks?” He often wondered. Leave the royal duties to Arrat, his older sister. He would happily oversee the corals and kelp and fish if it didn’t include dressing up for desiccating parties on land.
To kickstart his garden, Xet wanted to find seeds and samples for propagation. Red water lilies, wyrmweed, java rainbow moss… Those were the ones he wanted the most (not for any medicinal or useful purpose, they were simply the ones he liked caring for). But he had no access to civilization and, thus, no chance of finding those plants. He had largely given up on building his dream garden, the one to rival his scales and frills in beauty. He would take anything by this point.
Even if he could find the plants in the wild, he would be unable to compile all the species he desired within a single lake. He was too slow and awkward on land to carry samples around effectively and had no resources to get someone else to do it. No money, no friends. He could not even do some tricks in a circus; it would expose him. Perhaps this whole “flee home and swim until you feel like you reached another continent” business was a bad idea, or, ideally, required a better plan than none at all. Such a thought was quickly disregarded. If he wanted long, drawn out plans, his parents had a chart of his whole life from the moment he was born to the day he would die. Sometimes he wondered if his date of death had been scheduled.
Despite all the not-planning Xet liked to do, his luck changed rather quickly. While familiarising himself with his new, self-proclaimed river and lake (not to imply other fish argued about land ownership), Xet observed a band of about a dozen travelling merchants. Among them, he spotted a bearded vulture in his lake, replenishing jars of waters for the plants his carried. A spice and herbs merchant no doubt.
A plan coalesced. This is how he would kickstart his garden: stealing!
The bearded vulture was a little over a meter tall and rather quiet compared to the other merchants. Everyone else made it obvious — audible even — that they held years of experience screaming at the top of their lungs in street fairs, but the little bird was quiet, observant; a keen eye of alertness about him. Still, he wasn’t alert enough to expect to be robbed by a water dwelling seawyrm out here, so all his plant samples were neatly arranged in a single bag, ready for Xet’s taking.
Xet knew the river led to a town. At the current pace, he would have two weeks to devise a plan and snag some samples from that bird before the merchants settled for several months to prepare for winter. The biggest hurdle was reaching the merchants’ tents. Late summer could be rainy in this region, and they avoided camping too close to the river in case it flooded. But Xet was slow on land with his long body, short legs, long frills flapping about. He would need a scheme (he disliked thinking about it as a plan) to steal those plants while remaining unseen.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
For the first two days, Xet only observed. There was not much to do, but the ex-prince knew no such thing as boredom. He imagined grandiose stories from the mundane daily routine of the merchants, he chased after fish for fun or for food, he listened to the birds sing. Even rocking the floppy frill in the middle of his head from side to side provided enough entertainment for hours. He found immense joy in simply allowing himself to exist. Despite all the goofing off, he still paid attention to the task at hand. He wanted a garden, and he would have it.
From his observations, Xet noticed the merchants retired to their beds just after a communal dinner in the late evening. The vulture liked to set up his tent away from the other merchants. This was convenient for sneaking in but could mean the bird was sensitive to noise (after settling for the night, the merchants still liked to chat, which meant a lot of screaming through tents). Entering while the bird slept would be a gamble. Xet would have pilfer the bag before the sun had set — during dinner time — if he didn’t want the vulture to be in his tent. An awful, idea. Xet was more than clumsy outside the water and his scales were begging to be seen by the whole world. Being spotted was a certainty. Worst of all, merchants talked. This was a sure way to have his location disseminated until it reached his family. He doubted he’d be lucky for long if his family knew of his general location, even if he moved to another lake.
On the third day of observation, Xet noticed all the merchants fished in rotating shifts (it’s likely no one enjoyed the task, but all liked fresh fish). This was enough to draft a plan. For the fourth and fifth day of travel, Xet scared and ate all the fish upstream before they had a chance to reach the merchants. The poor fish had no chance against Xet’s precise undulations — he was as agile in water as he was clumsy on land. By the sixth day, the merchants were complaining about the lack of fish and more of them came to the water to try their luck. Bets for the biggest catch were placed, which eventually drew the entirety of the merchant group. Suddenly, they liked fishing. Even the vulture, who was disinterested at first, joined. Only then did Xet stop eating the fish —good thing, he couldn’t handle doing it for much longer. As fun as it was, he felt exhausted and bloated. All he had to do was keep his distance from the hooks and the rest would play out by itself.
Most of the merchants were away from their duties during that day, trying to catch fish and win the ever increasing “biggest catch” bet. The result of Xet’s little ploy was a delay of the communal supper until it was dark. It all went according to plan— scheme rather. Xet could sneak into the vulture’s tent in the cover of the night while everyone else was distracted eating and being loud.
This was it. Before leaving the water, he observed the merchants gathering around the fire. He located the vulture’s tent and then looked at the campsite to make sure the feathered guardian was with his companions. The merchants were eating and talking around a bonfire and vulture was with them, cracking and devouring chunks of bone. Every time the bird pulled a snack out of his little bag, the people nearby glared, visibly wondering how such a small container held an entire mausoleum.
Confident, Xet placed his hands on the shore and began the awkward process of hoisting his lengthy body out of the water. That’s when he caught a glimpse of the vulture’s eyes. He was looking in Xet’s direction with a sharp expression. He knew.
Xet immediately went limp and flopped back into the water. Was he caught? Was this all a trap? His heart was racing. He dared to peek again out of the water and noticed the vulture was looking at another merchant, chatting. No, there was no way Xet could have been spotted. There was no moon, even the stars were hiding in the overcast night. The merchants were also near the campfire, blind to the darkness. Still, he was startled enough that he gave up on going after the plants that night. He would have to hope for an opening another day. The trick with the fishes would not work again either, the merchants' hard work at the lake meant they would not go without fish for the rest of their travels.
Xet would need another plan, and time was running short.