Reincarnated as an Elf Prince-Chapter 86: Lady Valciel (1)

They kept walking ignoring the eyes.

Soon, the mist thinned.

Silvermere emerged from the haze like a city of silver and stone, its towers rising above the valley, its streets alive with motion.

Merchants called out from stalls lining the streets, their voices weaving through the clatter of hooves and the murmur of passing travelers.

The scent of fresh bread, roasted meat, and burning incense hung in the air.

People moved in a constant rhythm—traders unloading carts, couriers weaving through the crowd, children darting between the legs of armored guards.

Cassian let out a low whistle. "Now this is more like it."

'It's actually better than I thought it would be.'

Lindarion barely spared him a glance. His eyes swept the city, noting its structure, its defenses. Silvermere was built with intent.

Its outer districts spilled beyond the original walls, expanding into trade hubs and housing quarters, but at its core, it remained a fortress.

Stone bridges arched over winding canals, leading toward the noble estates perched on the higher tiers of the city. And among them, standing against the backdrop of the western mountains, was House Valciel's estate.

It wasn't the largest, nor the most lavish, but it commanded attention.

Luneth followed his gaze. "That's our destination."

Cassian exhaled. "You two ever just… enjoy a city before thinking about all the ways it could kill you?"

Luneth gave him a flat look. "No."

'We aren't here for holiday.'

Lindarion ignored them both. "Stay alert. We don't know who's watching."

They stepped onto the main street, falling into step with the ebb and flow of the crowd.

The moment they did, Lindarion felt it.

Not an attack. Not a threat.

Just eyes.

Watching. Measuring.

Not one pair. Not two.

Dozens.

He didn't react outwardly, but Luneth noticed the way his posture shifted. Her fingers brushed against her belt. "Trouble?"

Lindarion didn't slow his pace. "Not yet."

Cassian, blissfully unaware, was already eyeing a food stall selling skewered venison. "Do we have time for—"

Luneth grabbed his collar and pulled him forward before he could wander off. "No."

Cassian groaned but didn't resist. "You're both unbearable."

The streets grew narrower as they climbed higher, the air carrying the faintest chill. The further they went, the more the atmosphere shifted. The lively bustle of the lower districts gave way to a quieter, more controlled presence.

Silvermere's nobility didn't shout for attention. They didn't need to. Their influence was carved into the city's foundation.

House Valciel's estate came into view, its wrought iron gates flanked by guards in deep blue tabards.

Lindarion slowed as they approached. He could already feel the weight of expectation pressing down on them.

This was no simple request for aid.

This was something deeper.

Something they weren't being told.

And he intended to find out why.

—

Lindarion barely had to step forward before the guards at the gate moved, their hands shifting subtly toward their weapons. Not drawn, not yet—but a quiet warning.

The emblem of House Valciel was stitched into their tabards, a silver serpent coiled around an alchemical flask.

'The serpent looks familiar.'

Lindarion shook his head as he noticed the scent in the air. It wasn't just the damp stone of the city or the lingering incense from the lower districts. Here, something sharper, something chemical clung to the wind. Burnt herbs, metal, and a trace of something acidic.

'Alchemy.'

Luneth glanced at Lindarion, who had already caught on.

Cassian, however, was still stretching from the walk. "So, do we knock, or—?"

The gates creaked open before he could finish.

'A little creepy.'

The guards didn't speak. They simply stepped aside, their gazes impassive.

Lindarion took the lead.

Beyond the gates, the grounds of House Valciel stretched wide—stone pathways lined with glass lanterns, alchemical symbols engraved into the courtyard tiles.

Flowering vines curled around trellises, but even they weren't untouched by the family's craft. Some glowed faintly, their petals shifting colors under the light.

The estate itself was built like a fortress, but not in the way of soldiers and war. No, this was a different kind of stronghold—one of knowledge, of control.

Every window was fitted with dark glass. Faint wisps of smoke curled from the chimneys, carrying scents that didn't belong in nature. The whole place pulsed with the quiet hum of alchemical work.

Cassian muttered under his breath, "This place already smells like a bad idea."

Lindarion ignored him.

At the entrance, a man waited.

Tall, sharp-eyed, dressed in deep blue robes embroidered with silver.

"His sleeves have the mark of a master alchemist—three rings of intertwined gold thread."

Cassian muttered to Lindarion who just nodded.

The man inclined his head as they approached. "You've arrived sooner than expected."

Lindarion met his gaze without hesitation. "We didn't stop for delays."

The man studied him for a moment, then turned smoothly on his heel. "Follow me."

Luneth glanced at Lindarion, but he had already started walking.

Inside, the estate was a maze of marble and glass, but beneath the wealth, there was something precise, something methodical.

Alchemical symbols were etched into the floors, the walls, even the chandeliers—wards, protections, possibly more.

Every corridor carried a different scent. Some were faint—lavender, crushed herbs—while others were acrid, metallic, the unmistakable tang of something volatile.

'Something is wrong here.'

Lindarion memorized every turn. Every potential exit.

Cassian, on the other hand, was trying not to breathe too deeply. "I feel like I'm inhaling something poisonous just by existing here."

Their guide ignored the comment entirely, leading them toward a grand chamber lined with bookshelves and glass cases. At the center stood a desk—no, a workstation. Vials of liquid shimmered under candlelight, a thin wisp of smoke rising from a cooling cauldron.

And behind it, seated with an air of quiet command, was the one they had come to meet.

'She must be Lady Valciel.'

Her silver hair was pinned with alchemical needles, her eyes the same piercing gray as the storm-touched sea.

Though she wore the robes of her house, they were practical—sleeves fitted, gloves half-worn as if she had just left her work unfinished.

She looked at Lindarion first.

"You're the Academy's representative?"

Lindarion inclined his head. "Lindarion Sunblade, My Lady."

Her gaze flickered to Luneth and Cassian. "And these?"

Cassian crossed his arms. "We are accompanying him, My Lady."

Luneth sighed.

Lady Valciel exhaled through her nose. Not quite amusement, but close. "I see."

She leaned back in her chair. "You understand why you're here?"

Lindarion met her gaze evenly. "We were told House Valciel requested aid. We weren't told why."

Something shifted in her expression. Not surprise. Just… calculation.

She tapped a gloved finger against the desk. "Then let me make it simple."

She gestured toward one of the glass cases.

Inside, suspended in a liquid that shimmered between gold and violet, was a severed hand.

Cassian took an immediate step back. "Alright. That's worse than I expected…."

Luneth's eyes narrowed. "Whose?"

Lady Valciel stood, approaching the case. "One of my own alchemists. She wasn't meant to return alive."

Lindarion's fingers twitched at his side. "Wasn't meant to?"

Lady Valciel turned back to them, and for the first time, her voice was colder.

"There is something in Silvermere's depths that should not exist."

She met Lindarion's gaze.

"And I need you to help me destroy it."

Cassian hesitated for a fraction of a second before regaining his composure. "My lady, if I may ask—what exactly do you mean by 'should not exist'?" His voice, though still touched with unease, carried the proper deference expected when speaking to nobility.

Lady Valciel did not immediately answer. Instead, she turned her attention fully to Lindarion, as if gauging his reaction.

But Lindarion did not react. His expression remained composed, unreadable.

Luneth, however, took a measured step forward, her sharp gaze fixed on the severed hand floating within its glass prison.

Even through the thick barrier, she could discern the unnatural pallor of the skin, the darkened veins beneath its surface—veins that, disturbingly, still seemed to pulse faintly despite the hand's clear separation from its owner.

"…That is alchemical contamination," Luneth observed, her voice quieter than usual.

Lady Valciel inclined her head slightly. "Indeed."

Cassian exhaled, his discomfort thinly veiled. "My lady, forgive my ignorance, but I must admit… keeping such a thing preserved seems rather unusual."

Lady Valciel turned her gaze to him, her expression unchanging. "This specimen is not here for mere curiosity."

Cassian straightened slightly, properly reminded of the decorum expected of him. "Of course, my lady. I meant no disrespect."

Lindarion, ever direct, spoke next. "What caused this?"

The faintest hesitation flickered across Lady Valciel's expression. Not uncertainty—calculation. As if she were carefully considering how much to reveal.

Then, after a measured pause, she answered, "A mistake."

Cassian's breath hitched, but this time, he refrained from speaking out of turn.

'She isn't telling us everything.'

Lindarion remained still. "A mistake in what, my lady? What was the intended result?"

Lady Valciel's fingers rested lightly upon the polished wood of the desk before her. "…Something that would never decay."

Luneth inhaled sharply. Even Cassian, who had been subtly inching away from the floating hand, froze at the implication.

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'Could it be?'

Lindarion, ever composed, held her gaze. "An attempt at immortality..perhaps?"

"A crude word for it," Lady Valciel admitted, "but yes. Not the immortality of myths and legends. Alchemy cannot grant eternal life."

Her gaze returned to the preserved hand. "But it can make death… difficult."

Lindarion's fingers twitched, though his face betrayed nothing. "And the one this belonged to?"

Lady Valciel exhaled softly, as if recalling something distant. "Still walks."

A silence settled over the room, heavy and unmoving.

Cassian's throat bobbed as he swallowed. "Forgive me, my lady, but—what exactly are we dealing with?"

Lady Valciel's eyes darkened.

"A creation that should not have been made."

'This is worse than I thought it would be..'