The Princess' Harem
Chapter 85: The Weight of Proof

Chapter 85: The Weight of Proof

The silence of the past days had been a suffocating blanket, woven from anxiety and isolation. Viana, confined to her room by the oppressive weight of her knowledge, felt the relentless tightening of time.

Each tick of the clock, each passing dawn without word from Joel, amplified her dread. The vague hints of spring in the crisp morning air, once a promise of renewal, now carried the chill of imminent disaster.

Then, a sudden, jarring knock echoed through her chamber, sharp and insistent. It cut through the stagnant air of her solitude.

Her head snapped up from the map she had been tracing, her heart hammering against her ribs. Before she could call out, Sina, her face alight with an uncharacteristic urgency, burst through the door.

"Princess! He’s back! Master Joel has returned!" Sina’s voice was a joyous, breathless cry, a stark contrast to the quiet despair of Viana’s recent days.

Viana surged to her feet, a jolt of raw energy shooting through her weary frame. "Joel?" The name was a desperate whisper, a hope she had barely dared to entertain. "Are there... is there news?"

"Yes, Princess! He has samples, and... and he has brought men with him! Under guard!" Sina practically vibrated with the news, unable to contain her excitement.

Viana moved, a blur of motion. She barely registered Sina’s continued exclamations as she swept past her, down the long corridor, her worn slippers barely touching the polished stone floor.

Her heart pounded with a mix of relief and a terrifying anticipation. The wait was over. The truth was at hand.

She found Joel in the palace’s outer courtyard, a practical, unadorned space typically used for deliveries and the movements of guards. He stood amidst a small escort of palace guards, his mercenary uniform streaked with dirt and grime, a stark contrast to his usual fastidious appearance.

Beside him, two figures, grim and bound, knelt on the cold stones, their faces bruised and defiant. At Joel’s feet lay a small, tightly sealed leather satchel.

"Joel!" Viana exclaimed, her voice thin, breathless.

He turned, his sharp eyes meeting hers. Despite his exhaustion, a grim satisfaction was evident in his gaze.

"Princess," he acknowledged, giving a quick, deferential nod. "I have what you sought."

He gestured to the satchel. "Samples of the substance. And two of the individuals responsible for spreading it. We apprehended them near the Western Tributaries, just as they were preparing to empty their sacks into the thawing snow."

He spoke with the clear, concise delivery of a man who dealt in facts, not conjecture.

Viana knelt instantly, her trembling hands reaching for the satchel. She unfastened the clasps with fumbling fingers, pulling out a small, tightly stoppered glass vial filled with pristine white snow, and another, smaller vial containing a fine, almost invisible powder.

This was it. This was the blight, tangible and terrifying.

"Alchemist’s laboratory. Now," Viana commanded, her voice regaining its lost authority, though a tremor still ran beneath it.

She rose, clutching the vials tightly, her gaze fixed on the grim-faced prisoners for a brief, unsettling moment. These were the hands that had brought potential ruin to her people.

Without waiting for Joel to confirm, she began to walk, then quickened her pace into a near run towards the alchemist’s wing, her mind racing.

Joel, seeing her urgent intent, barked orders to the guards to secure the prisoners and followed swiftly, the satchel still in hand.

***

The royal alchemist’s laboratory was a labyrinth of bubbling retorts, shimmering glass, and the mingled scents of sulfur, herbs, and strange, earthy compounds.

Master Marion, the head alchemist, a woman of sharp intellect and perpetually ink-stained fingers, looked up from a complex distillation as Viana burst through the heavy wooden doors.

"Princess Viana!" Master Marion exclaimed, surprised by the princess’s unannounced and frantic arrival.

Viana rushed to the central workbench, placing the vials with utmost care. "Master Marion, I need you to examine this. Immediately. With every resource at your disposal. This," she held up the vial of snow, "is snow from the northern valleys, mixed with this."

She indicated the fine powder. "Eryndor told me it is a poison, designed to blight our lands, to starve our people. I need to know what it is, and if there is any way to counter it."

Master Marion’s brows furrowed. The name Eryndor was spoken with reverence, but rarely with immediacy.

Her gaze, however, settled on the fine powder. She picked up the vial, holding it to the light, her sharp eyes already beginning their assessment.

The lack of visible impurities, the way the light refracted, suggested a compound of unusual purity.

"A poison you say?" she murmured, her voice losing its initial surprise and gaining a professional curiosity. "Such fine particles... it would indeed disperse easily in snowmelt."

She turned to her assistants. "Prepare the refractometer. And the spectroscope. We will need to test its solubility, its elemental composition."

The lab, typically a place of quiet, methodical work, began to stir with a newfound urgency.

As the alchemists set about their meticulous tasks, the news of Joel’s return and the captured perpetrators had already reached the King. Reyes, ever efficient, had ensured the report landed on the King’s desk with utmost speed.

King Clive, who had spent the last week wrestling with the unsettling implications of Viana’s words, yet still clinging to his skepticism, now felt a cold dread settle in his stomach. Viana had been right.

He sent for Joel, ordering the captured individuals brought directly to the throne room. Viana was also summoned. The King wanted answers, and he wanted them now.

The throne room, usually a place of grand pronouncements and measured diplomacy, felt stark and tense. King Clive sat upon his throne, Queen Isabella beside him, her usual serene composure replaced by a tight-lipped apprehension.

Viana stood beside Joel, her face pale but resolute, the subtle triumph of being proven right overshadowed by the grim reality of the situation. The two captured men, their faces a mixture of fear and stubborn defiance, were flanked by armed guards in the center of the vast chamber.

"Joel," King Clive’s voice boomed, sharp and demanding, "report. Everything. Where did you find these men? What were they doing?"

Joel, unperturbed by the royal presence, gave a concise account. "Your Majesty, my scouts located them near the Western Tributaries, attempting to empty these."

He gestured to two empty, coarse sacks held by a guard. "They were operating under the cover of night, scattering this fine powder into the thawing snow. They moved with practiced stealth, suggesting prior training. We apprehended them without alerting others."

He then described the exact locations, corroborating Viana’s initial markings on the map. "They were not common bandits, Your Majesty. Their movements were too precise, their equipment too specialized."

The King’s gaze, heavy with suppressed fury, fell upon the two prisoners. "Who are you? Who sent you? What is this substance you spread across my lands?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

The first prisoner, a burly man with cold, vacant eyes, remained silent, his jaw clenched. The second, younger and visibly trembling, stared at the floor, his face pale.

"Speak!" King Clive roared, his patience wearing thin.

The younger man flinched, but still said nothing.

"Your Majesty," Viana interjected, her voice cutting through the silence, "they likely have been well-trained not to break. They were paid, perhaps, or threatened. But their masters are the ones we need to find."

Just then, a royal page, breathless and flushed, rushed into the throne room. "Your Majesty! A message from Master Marion! The alchemists have made a preliminary finding!"

King Clive waved him forward, his eyes fixed on the page. "Speak, boy!"

"Master Marion reports that the substance is indeed unnatural, Your Majesty," the page stammered, holding a sealed scroll. "It is a highly concentrated corrosive agent, specifically designed to target plant life and soil microbes. It binds to water molecules, ensuring widespread dispersal. Even in minute concentrations, it will utterly devastate our crops within weeks of the thaw. The alchemists have noted its peculiar crystalline structure, unlike anything naturally occurring."