The Princess' Harem
Chapter 88: The Unorthodox Alchemist

Chapter 88: The Unorthodox Alchemist

Joel moved quickly, his focus sharp like a hunter on the trail. Within the hour, his chosen scouts, all were silent and skilled persons, gathered in the palace courtyard.

Dressed in dark leather, they were lean, strong, and used to tough terrain and secret missions. Joel gave clear orders: find a hidden alchemist, bring her back unharmed, and keep the mission quiet.

Time was running out. The poisoned snow was melting, now spreading its damage, and he knew every wasted moment meant more suffering for the kingdom.

The journey to find the alchemist was exhausting. They rode fast, pushing their horses through narrow mountain paths and dry plains.

Their only guides were old maps and the vague clues Viana had given about a forgotten county near the Whisperwind Mountains. Days blurred into a cycle of cold camps beneath indifferent stars, hurried meals, and endless travel.

The remote villages they passed offered little help, their people wary of strangers, especially those asking about "unusual" healers. Yet, as they rode further, the signs of the blight became impossible to ignore.

The emerging crops looked sickly, their once-green leaves tinged yellow. The wind carried a strange scent, like rot beneath the soil.

Every sight made the urgency of their mission feel heavier to Joel.

Finally, after nearly a week of relentless riding, they found the place. Hidden at the base of the Whisperwind Mountains, nestled in a rocky crevice, stood a small, rough shack.

It blended with the weathered stone, barely noticeable. A thin column of smoke curled from its crooked chimney. The air surrounding the structure held a strange, complex aroma—a mix of sharp unknown chemicals, the sweet, earthy scent of processed roots, and something metallic.

Joel dismounted swiftly from his horse. His scouts spread out, securing the perimeter in quiet movements.

He himself approached the shack, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword. The door, made of thick, splintered wood, was slightly open. He pushed it gently.

Inside, the dim light revealed a cluttered workspace, filtered through a single, grimy window. The air was thick with the rich, pungent odor of ongoing experiments.

The small space was crammed with bubbling retorts, shelves overflowing with glass jars of dried herbs, minerals, and labeled powders.

A large, stone workbench in the center was covered in notes filled with arcane symbols and intricate diagrams. Huddled over a steaming cauldron, a figure was hunched, her back to the door.

"Rissa?" Joel spoke low, careful.

She stiffened, then slowly straightened. She was young, perhaps just past twenty, her figure thin but strong from years of labor.

Her face smudged with soot and streaked with what appeared to be dried pigments, her dark hair tied back loosely with a simple leather thong. Her eyes, a striking shade of keen grey, met his with immediate suspicion, then wariness.

"Who are you?" Her voice was calm, firm—not afraid.

Joel removed his helmet, revealing his face. "My name is Joel, Captain of King Clive’s Royal Scouts. I have come on Princess Viana’s personal command. The kingdom.... is in danger. We believe you possess knowledge that could be the key for saving us."

Rissa’s expression hardened. Her eyes flickered to the royal emblem on his armor. "The kingdom never needed me before," she said bitterly. "The Guild rejected my research, my theories, called my methods ’reckless’ and ’unorthodox’. My methods are not dor the grand halls of the palace. Why should I help now?"

Joel remained steady. "Because this threat, the blight... is unlike anything we’ve seen, Rissa. The royal scholars don’t have answers. Viana believes your unique understanding might be the only hope."

At the mention of Viana, a flicker of something—curiosity mixed with disbelief—crossed Rissa’s face. Joel handed her the sealed letter from the palace, bearing King Clive’s crest and Viana’s personal signet.

Rissa took it, running her fingers over the wax seal. As she read the parchment, her expression changed, her brow furrowed, then looked at Joel, a long, calculating and considering gaze.

Then, she made the decision. Without a word, she gathered a few essential tools, wrapped them in worn cloth, and secured her workshop.

She mounted her horse, riding beside Joel. The journey back to the palace was as swift as the journey out, though now, Rissa rode with a quiet, observant presence.

When they finally reached the palace, it was a stark contrast to Rissa’s secluded workshop. Its grand halls, bustling with urgent activity, dwarfed her.

She moved with a subtle stiffness, her keen eyes observing everything with sharp attention, understanding the scale of the crisis.

Rissa was led straight to a private chamber, where Viana, Master Marion, and Reyes waited.

Viana stepped forward, her face lit with a rare, fleeting expression of relief when she saw Rissa. "Rissa," she said, stepping forward and extending a hand. "Thank you for coming. My name is Viana."

Rissa, her usual guardedness returning, offered a brief nod, her gaze directly studied her. "Princess. I was told about the blight. My work... it’s not what the royal alchemists would expect. It’s different."

"Different is precisely what we need," Viana responded with a gentle but firm voice. "The royal scholars are brilliant, but this problem is new, beyond their usual studies. My... insights... tells me your unique methods might be the answer. The kingdom is dying. Crops are failing. Our people are afraid. We need your help, Rissa. Desperately."

Master Marion stepped forward, her normally severe expression softened by a plea for assistance.

"Rissa, pride doesn’t matter now. The blight defies all known alchemical principles. We are losing. We need every mind, every approach—even the ones others call unconventional. Princess Viana believes in your work completely. We will give you anything you need. Materials, assistance, access to our knowledge. Please, consider it."

Rissa listened, her gaze shifting between Viana’s earnest expression and Marion’s desperate one. The sting of past rejection sat heavy in her mind.

"My methods are not compatible with a shared laboratory," she stated with a quiet and firm voice. "I work alone. I need my space. Working with others, collaboration, in the traditional sense, would slow me down."

Viana’s eyes brightened, recognizing the potential for an agreement.

"Then you will have your own space," she declared without hesitation. "A private lab. Anywhere in the palace that suits your needs. You will have all the materials, books, and resources you ask for. You will work alone, Rissa, if that’s what you need. But you will work for Elysia. I will personally oversee everything you require. I will do whatever it takes to support you."

Her words carried deep commitment, surprising even Reyes. Rissa watched her carefully, searching for deception.

She found only a raw desperate sincerity that mirrored the urgency she had witnessed outside the palace walls.

"Very well," Rissa finally said, her voice steady. "I will do what I can. But I need a lab far from interference. And I need rare materials—ones found only in the eastern deserts and the sunken caves."

Marion nodded immediately. "They will be sourced. Immediately."

Viana offered a small, genuine smile—a rare sight these dark days. "Joel will make sure you have everything you need. Reyes will see to your security. There will be no obstacles."

Joel, his mission shifting once again, nodded, already planning the logistics.

The arrival of Rissa, an outcast alchemist, marked a turning point in Elysia’s fight for survival.

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