Reincarnated as an Elf Prince-Chapter 170: Strategy (2)

The snow under Lindarion's boot started to sizzle. He stepped sideways before his foot dissolved.

Lira didn't look away from the ward. "We could camp until nightfall. Let the storm cover our approach."

"And then what?" Lindarion asked. "Stroll in and pray the dragon doesn't sneeze on a gatepost?"

Ren shrugged. "You're the magical prodigy. Make him invisible."

"I'm also eleven."

"Child labor. Tragic."

He looked at Ashwing again.

The dragon blinked.

Flopped.

Curled tighter against his leg like he belonged there.

And okay, maybe he did. But belonging didn't fix magical border defenses keyed to vaporize anything draconic.

Lindarion exhaled slowly. "We need a distraction."

"I'm not setting anything on fire," Meren said quickly.

"No one asked you to."

"Yet."

Lira stood and brushed snow off her gloves. "I'll scout the edge. Check for weak points in the barrier."

Ardan finally joined them on the ridge. Silent. Tall. Already evaluating threats like it was his full-time job.

Ren reached down and poked Ashwing once on the snout. "We could dress him up."

"No."

"A hat. Tiny glasses."

"No."

"A backpack with a hole for the tail."

Lindarion didn't answer. He just stared at the wardline again and tried to calculate the risk of smuggling a magical lizard past a dozen enchanted defenses and a few hundred paranoid villagers.

Ashwing licked his boot.

He sighed. "This is the worst rescue mission I've ever been adopted into."

Ren grinned. "Come on. He's cute."

"So is a fireball. Until it eats your leg."

Ashwing sneezed again.

Lindarion gave up and started walking downhill.

He didn't have a plan yet.

But he was eleven, cold, and responsible for a creature that could sneeze its way into a war crime.

He'd think of something.

—

The village looked closer now. Which wasn't comforting.

It meant decisions had to be made.

Lindarion stood behind a half-frozen boulder, cloak pulled tighter, watching the quiet rows of stone buildings flicker with wardlight. Too orderly. Too polite. The kind of place that asked for names, not stories.

Ashwing sat beside him, tail thudding rhythmically against the snow. Like he was excited. Which probably meant trouble.

Meren muttered something that sounded like a prayer to the gods of warmth and functional diplomacy.

Ren whistled low. "So. Village. Guards. Borders. Big storm behind us. Dragon in front of us. How do we not get arrested?"

Ardan didn't respond. He was in full statue mode again. If stone could radiate judgment, he'd carved it perfectly.

Lira scanned the ridgeline with her usual look of I already hate whatever is about to happen.

Lindarion shifted his stance, rubbed a thumb along the edge of one glove, and sighed.

"We could enter properly."

Ren blinked. "Properly?"

"You know. Walk up to the gate. Say hello. Announce the presence of a very important elf."

"Your plan," she said slowly, "is to weaponize your actual royal bloodline."

"It can cause enough problems," he said. "Might as well get some mileage out of it."

Meren flopped into a nearby snowbank like a dying poet. "We're announcing the dragon too, right? Because otherwise I am not emotionally prepared for what happens when it sneezes on a guard."

Ashwing sneezed again. freёwebnoѵel.com

Lindarion didn't look down. "We tell them it's a bonded creature. No threat. No wild magic."

Ren crossed her arms. "And if they still see it as a walking fire hazard?"

"Then we leave."

"Just like that?"

He gave her the flattest look he could manage. "You've seen what we walk through casually. What's one more gate rejection?"

Ardan finally broke his silence. "You think the Sunblade name will work here?"

"It should work, maybe."

"Charming."

"Effective," Lindarion corrected.

Ren stretched her arms over her head. "Do I have to act respectful?"

"No," he said.

Lira turned back toward the trail. "There's a ward line just beyond the ridge. Static pulse. Not hostile. I can walk us in without triggering anything."

"Walk us in?" Meren asked. "As in… casually stroll into a warded village with a baby dragon and a princeling and hope they're feeling generous?"

"Yes," Lira said.

"Oh," Meren said. "Okay. Just wanted to make sure I fully understood how dumb we're being."

Ashwing did a little hop and landed on Lindarion's boot again.

"Can we at least try not to scare the first person we meet?" Lindarion asked.

"No promises," Ren said.

They moved out.

Snow crunched. Ashwing pranced.

Lindarion pulled his scarf a little higher.

This was going to be fine.

Probably.

Possibly.

No. Definitely not.

'We're going to traumatize someone's innkeeper today, I can feel it.'

—

The path to the village gate was less of a road and more of a suggestion. Snow swallowed the stones. Wind erased the footprints as fast as they made them.

If the mountain had opinions, it was expressing them through passive-aggressive weather.

Ashwing bounded ahead like this was his idea.

Lindarion kept one eye on the dragon and one on the ward line they were approaching. It shimmered faintly, a thin vertical ripple like light trying to remember how to behave.

Ren leaned in as they walked. "So, how do introductions work in noble elf speak? Do we bow? Curtsy? Offer blood?"

"Just let me talk."

"Because you're such a people person?"

"I should be able to outrank most people."

"Ah. So threats."

"Diplomacy."

"Right. Same thing."

Meren trudged along behind them. "If they arrest us, can I claim I was kidnapped?"

"No," Lindarion said. "You signed up for this."

"With my mouth, not my heart."

"Tragic."

Ardan said nothing. But he walked like a man who already knew which wall he was going to lean against while the chaos unfolded.

Lira raised one hand. A quiet gesture.

They stopped.

The ward line shimmered brighter now. It was keyed to movement. Mana presence. Possibly mood.

Lindarion stepped forward.

He let his core steady, just enough to hum, not enough to radiate. A soft push. Not a flex. Just a reminder.

The barrier reacted. Not with resistance. Just awareness. Like a dog sniffing an unfamiliar guest.

Then it let him through.

Ren followed without waiting for instructions. Of course.

Ashwing flounced through like he'd been invited.

The ripple didn't flicker.

Lira stepped through last.

No alarms. No resistance. Just a slight shift in the air pressure that said, very politely, I see you.

Beyond the line, the path became real again. Flattened snow. Packed stone. Ward posts set in shallow curves to funnel travelers toward the gate like sheep with questionable paperwork.

The village walls weren't tall. Just tall enough to say they were safe and also slightly paranoid.

Two guards waited near the entrance. One human. One elf. Both wearing expressions that said they'd already had a long morning and were in no mood for surprises.

So of course, Ashwing sneezed.

Smoke. Sparks. No actual fire. Just enough to make both guards straighten like someone had lit a torch under their boots.

Lindarion stepped forward, pulling his scarf down.

"I am Lindarion Sunblade of Eldorath," he said clearly. "This is my party. That"—he pointed at Ashwing—"is a tamed draconic hatchling under my protection. We seek passage and temporary shelter."

The elf guard blinked.

The human one stared at the dragon.

Ashwing blinked back.

The tension stretched. Not thick. Just awkward. Like someone had told a joke in the wrong tone and no one knew how to respond.

Then the elf cleared his throat and bowed slightly. "Prince Sunblade. You're… expected?"

Lindarion's expression didn't shift. "Of course."

He was not expected.

At all.

But saying otherwise wouldn't have helped.

The guards exchanged a glance that involved more eyebrow movement than actual communication. Then they stepped aside.

"The north lodging is open. You'll be directed there."

Ren whispered, "That's it? No check? No screaming?"

Meren hissed, "Don't jinx it."

Ardan walked through like he didn't care whether they were expected or exiled.

Lira nodded once at the guards. Nothing friendly. Just efficient acknowledgment.

Ashwing waddled in behind Lindarion, tail twitching like he owned the cobblestones.

Lindarion didn't look back.

But he could feel the guards still staring.

He sighed under his breath.

'So far, no disasters. Which means we're about due for one.'

They walked toward the village square.

And the trouble they absolutely did not intend to cause.