The Princess' Harem
Chapter 87: Forgotten Hope

Chapter 87: Forgotten Hope

The aftermath of King Clive’s decree was immediate and overwhelming. The palace, once steeped in solemn tension, erupted into relentless activity.

Guards moved swiftly, their armor clanking as they followed urgent commands. Pages rushed through corridors, delivering orders that set every department into motion.

The sounds of the capital outside—merchants calling their wares, carts rolling through the streets—felt distant, almost irrelevant compared to the controlled chaos within the palace walls.

The most critical task began without hesitation: removing the blighted snow. It was a daunting logistical challenge.

Soldiers, usually trained for battle, were redeployed to contaminated areas, trading swords for shovels as they faced an invisible enemy. Under strict supervision, thousands of laborers—some conscripted, others volunteers—worked tirelessly.

The northern valleys, eastern riverbeds, and western tributaries rang with the relentless scrape of shovels against packed snow, the strain of overloaded wagons, and the shouts of men coordinating the effort.

Every load of tainted snow was handled with caution. Officers issued strict warnings: no direct contact with the fine, almost imperceptible powder embedded within the white surface.

It wasn’t ordinary dirt—it was a corrosive agent, designed to break down the land itself. Wagons, specially lined to prevent seepage, formed an unending procession toward the Stone Peaks, a barren wasteland far from fertile ground.

With its deep chasms and unyielding rock, the remote region was the safest place to contain the contamination.

***

Back at the palace, the pace never slowed. Quartermasters worked tirelessly, their ink-stained hands moving swiftly over inventory lists, ensuring supplies kept up with both the growing military effort and the snow removal teams.

Blacksmiths labored through the night, forging specialized tools and reinforcing wagons designed to carry the toxic snow. The constant ringing of metal against metal echoed through the halls.

Messengers rode hard in and out of the capital, their mounts lathered in sweat as they carried urgent reports—updates on snow removal, troubling findings from patrols, and increasingly desperate pleas for aid from villages already seeing signs of damaged crops.

***

Amidst the chaos, Viana found some measure of control. Her warnings had been proven right, and though the looming disaster was frightening, she no longer fought alone.

King Clive and Queen Isabella had come to rely on her judgment, even if they didn’t understand the source of her knowledge. The crushing isolation that had weighed on her was gone. In its place was purpose.

The endless hours spent in meetings, cross-checking reports, and coordinating strategies were grueling, but she endured them. She no longer felt helpless.

One evening, after another long day, she sat down to a rare, quiet meal with Joel and Reyes. The dining chamber was small and private, away from the chaos of the war room. The food was simple, but for the first time in weeks, she ate properly, savoring each bite.

Joel, hardened by his work in the field, ate with quiet efficiency. Reyes, always alert, maintained a watchful awareness of their surroundings even in moments of rest.

"The snow removal is moving forward," Reyes said, his tone measured. "The northern valleys are a problem. The snow is deeper, the terrain unpredictable. The winds keep shifting, making it hard to contain the contamination."

Viana nodded, swallowing a bite of bread before turning to Joel. "And the prisoners? Have they given us anything useful?"

Joel’s expression darkened. He set his cup down carefully before speaking. "They refused to talk, beyond stating their names. We tried every method. Then last night... they died. All of them. No wounds, no poison. It was as if their lives just—stopped. Their bodies showed no signs of struggle. Whoever sent them ensured they wouldn’t reveal anything, not even in death."

A heavy silence settled over the room. Viana stared at the remnants of her meal, her appetite fading. The sudden deaths of the prisoners deepened the mystery.

As Viana ate, her gaze drifted to the flickering candle on the table, its flame casting restless shadows against the polished wood. A memory surfaced, faint at first, then growing sharper—a glimpse of a small, isolated workshop, barely more than a shack, on the far edge of the kingdom.

It was in a remote duchy she barely remembered from her first reign. A young woman worked there, her face smudged with soot, her hands stained with strange pigments, focused intently on a bubbling retort.

Not Master Marion. Someone else. Someone unconventional.

This alchemist had been dismissed by the guilds, her methods considered too radical, her theories unreliable. She worked alone, far from the royal laboratories, ignored by scholars, overlooked by nobility.

Viana recalled her only because, during the desperate aftermath of the blight in her past life, there had been a single whispered rumor—an area where the contamination had not spread, a small resistance against the decay. The success had been temporary, barely noticed amid the chaos.

The kingdom had been collapsing, Count Lazarus tightening his grip, and Viana had been too overwhelmed to investigate. But now, with a second chance, that forgotten memory stood out with undeniable clarity.

She set down her fork, the sharp clatter breaking the silence in the room. Joel and Reyes looked up, startled by the sudden movement.

"I need someone found," Viana said, urgency replacing exhaustion. "An alchemist. Young. She worked in a remote workshop, near the county of Oldwood, possibly deeper into Count Valerius’s lands, near the Whisperwind Mountains."

She spoke quickly, eyes locked on Joel. "She wasn’t part of the Guild. Her work was dismissed, but she had insight into unusual elemental compounds. She found a way to slow the effects of something similar to this blight. She might have the answer we need."

Joel’s expression remained unreadable, but his posture straightened, listening carefully.

Reyes hesitated, skepticism clear in his gaze. "A forgotten alchemist from the kingdom’s edge? What makes her more capable than Master Marion and the royal scholars?"

Viana’s response was immediate, unwavering. "Because she doesn’t think like them. The Guild rejected her methods, but her results were real. I need her. Joel, this is your next mission. Take your best scouts. Find her, and bring her back unharmed."

Her voice was firm, final. "Inform King Clive. He needs to know. This could be the key to saving Elysia."

Joel nodded, already calculating the fastest route. Reyes exchanged a glance with him, but whatever doubts he had, he didn’t voice them.

Then he frowned slightly, crossing his arms. "How do you know about her?" His tone wasn’t accusing, but it carried the weight of curiosity and quiet suspicion.

Joel didn’t speak, but his gaze sharpened, watching her closely.

Viana had expected the question. She had no logical answer, no proof beyond the fragmented memories of a life no one else remembered. She couldn’t explain why she knew of the obscure alchemist, only that she did.

She held Reyes’s stare, unwavering. "I heard whispers of her work." Her voice remained steady. "She was dismissed as unorthodox, but that’s exactly why she might have the answer."

Reyes considered her words, searching for hesitation, for uncertainty. He found none.

Joel finally spoke, breaking the silence. "Then we’ll find her."

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