The Princess' Harem
Chapter 110: Count Lazarus’s Next Plan

Chapter 110: Count Lazarus’s Next Plan

Lazarus scoffed softly, a sound that held more amusement than derision. He adjusted the intricate lace at his cuff.

"Insufficient? My scrying suggest a more... tenacious resistance than your words imply, Dexter. Fleeting, stubborn pockets of vitality. Patches of green where there should only be decay. Explain this anomaly."

Dexter hesitated, his shadowed form seeming to become even less defined against the rich backdrop. "Our intelligence painted a picture of inevitable collapse. However... there have been unconfirmed accounts about unusual movements of resources. Talk of a shimmering substance being dispersed in afflicted areas."

A flicker of genuine annoyance crossed Lazarus’s finely sculpted features. "Unconfirmed accounts? I base my strategies on tangible realities, Dexter. Realities that now indicate my... investment in Elysia’s decline is not yielding the predictable returns."

He paused, his gaze sharpening. "This ’shimmering substance’... enlighten me."

"It is said to originate from their northern territories, Master," Dexter offered, his voice carefully neutral. "A mineral, refined and mixed with... something else. It is applied directly to the blighted land. With considerable care. And it is rumored to... restore life to the soil."

Lazarus’s lips thinned, a rare mar on his otherwise charming expression. "A local remedy countering a plague of this scale? Preposterous. Unless..."

His eyes, usually radiating a suave confidence, narrowed with a keen intellect assessing a new variable. "Unless this is more than mere happenstance. More than simple folk remedies. Princess Viana..."

His tone held a hint of reluctant admiration.

He leaned closer to the pond, his concentration absolute. The images refined, focusing on a figure, small and distant, but undeniably present: Princess Viana, overseeing teams of individuals distributing the mysterious substance.

Her posture, though conveying weariness, also held an unyielding determination. A subtle smile touched Lazarus’s lips, a predator recognizing a worthy opponent.

She possessed a certain... fire. A quality he found... intriguing.

Perhaps his initial assessment of her as merely a political pawn had been too simplistic. A union with such woman... her spirit, once properly guided... could solidify his claim in ways a simple conquest never could.

"The princess. Resourceful, I concede. But even this ’miracle dust’ cannot be produced in volumes sufficient to reverse the widespread devastation," Dexter ventured, sensing his master’s shifting focus. "Their efforts remain localized. The vast majority of Elysia still suffers. Time remains on our side."

"Time," Lazarus mused, his gaze still fixed on Viana’s image. "A commodity best not squandered. This unexpected resilience... it necessitates a recalibration of my strategy."

The subtle manipulation, the patient erosion of Elysia’s strength, was proving less efficient than anticipated.

He turned from the pond, a new glint of decisive intent in his eyes. "Arin grows restless. His forces are prepared. Subtlety has served its purpose. The blight provided the necessary disruption, the initial weakening. Now, with this unexpected development, a more direct approach is required. And Princess Viana... she will be... engaged."

Dexter bowed his head, his form dissolving further into the shadows. "As you wish, Master."

"Inform Arin," Lazarus instructed, his voice regaining its smooth, authoritative tone. "The time for decisive action is approaching. He is to prepare for deployment. Elysia will come under more... direct pressure. And concerning the princess... I believe a... personal invitation to discuss matters of mutual benefit is in order."

He paused and gazed at Dexter with his sharp eyes. "Ensure it reaches her, discreetly. Stress the potential for a mutually prosperous future. Emphasize the... advantages of cooperation over conflict."

He paused, a calculating smile gracing his lips. "And Dexter... discreetly ascertain the precise nature and origin of this miraculous ’dust.’ Understanding their cure is paramount to securing my... future in Elysia."

He walked towards a detailed map of the region, laid out on a polished mahogany table. His slender finger, adorned with a significant signet ring, traced a path not of outright invasion, but of strategic positioning, of controlled influence.

The ’softer way’ still held considerable appeal, offering a more stable and legitimate claim. Capturing Viana’s heart, or at least securing her hand, remained his preferred path to the throne.

The game, he realized with a renewed sense of anticipation, had just become considerably more... engaging.

***

The frantic pace in Elysia continued for a few more weeks. The constant spreading of Sunstone Dust began to show real, undeniable results.

Patches of green grew larger, merging into swathes of revitalized land. The air, though still dry, held a faint scent of damp earth and growing life. The people of Elysia, thin and weary, began to see the return of hope in the subtle blush of their fields.

But the relentless effort took its toll. Viana, for all her fierce determination, felt the weariness deep in her bones.

Her body ached. Her mind, usually sharp, often felt clouded with fatigue. One morning, after a long night of planning routes for the next spreading expedition, Rayne found her slumped over a map, asleep, her cheek pressed against the marked parchment.

He gently roused her. "Princess," he said softly, "you must rest. We all must. The blight is a long war, not a single battle. Even the strongest steel will break if it is always struck."

Viana blinked, her eyes unfocused for a moment. She straightened, rubbing her temples. "I just... there is so much to do."

"And you have done much," he replied, his voice calm. "The Desert’s Embrace multiplies beyond our wildest dreams. Rissa has perfected the dust. Our teams are efficient. We have momentum. A day of rest will not halt our progress. It will strengthen it."

As if on cue, the heavy doors to the strategy room opened. Her parents, the King and Queen, entered.

The King’s face was etched with worry, but his eyes held immense pride. The Queen, pale but regal, moved swiftly to Viana’s side.

"My dear," the Queen whispered, her hand gently touching Viana’s forehead. "You are pushing yourself too hard. We see it. We all do."

The King placed a hand on Viana’s shoulder. "Your efforts, Viana, have been nothing short of heroic. You have given Elysia a future we dared not dream of. We thank you, my daughter. More than words can express."

His voice was rough with emotion. "But even a heroine needs rest. We need you to be strong, to be well. For yourself, and for the kingdom, yours to rule in the future."

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