The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

The air inside the safehouse was thick with the scent of damp wood and the faint traces of herbs, likely lingering from whatever questionable potions had been brewed in this underground hideout. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows against the stone walls, making the small space feel even more suffocating.

Mikhailis leaned back against the wall, wincing slightly as he pressed a hand to his ribs. The encounter with the masked adversaries had left more than just unanswered questions—his body ached, and the wound from Eldris's spectral blade still throbbed with an odd, lingering sensation. Not quite pain, but something just beneath the surface of his skin, like the aftermath of an electric shock.

Lira, ever the diligent maid, moved to his side without a word, her black ponytail swaying behind her as she examined him with a critical eye. She knelt gracefully, her hands brushing aside the edges of his coat before peeling back the fabric over his injured side.

"You're lucky," she muttered, fingers running lightly over the wound. "The cut isn't deep. Though it serves you right for playing around with unknown entities."

Mikhailis chuckled, though it came out strained. "What can I say? They seemed eager to dance. Thought I'd humor them."

"Next time, try humor without getting stabbed." Her words were sharp, but there was an unmistakable softness in the way she dabbed at the wound with a damp cloth, her touch careful yet efficient.

He smirked. "You sound worried, Lira."

She didn't look up. "I am."

That made him pause. Lira wasn't the type to voice concern so easily, and for a moment, he considered reassuring her, but before he could say anything, Rhea's voice cut through the room.

"He's almost ready."

Rhea paced near the wooden table, arms crossed tightly against her chest. Her usual playful smirk was nowhere to be found, replaced by a troubled frown. She stopped mid-step, eyes flickering toward the rest of the group. "That's what they said. 'He's almost ready.' What the hell does that mean? Ready for what?"

The weight of those words hung over them like a storm cloud.

Cerys, leaning against the table with her arms crossed, let out a slow exhale. The dim candlelight caught on the strands of her red ponytail as she tilted her head slightly, her sharp gaze unreadable. "They were testing us," she stated plainly. "It wasn't an attempt to kill—it was a warning. Or maybe an invitation."

Mikhailis tapped his temple thoughtfully. An invitation? Or a challenge?

Vyrelda stood near the doorway, arms folded, her sword resting against the wall beside her. Her expression remained impassive, but the tension in her posture spoke volumes. "We're outmatched. We don't know who they are, what they want, or what their full capabilities even are. If they're not aligned with the Crownless House or the Technomancers, then we have another force at play."

She glanced at Mikhailis. "And you. They were focused on you."

He shrugged, though the weight of that realization sat uncomfortably in his chest. "Maybe I just have that kind of face."

Vyrelda didn't look amused. "They knew you. Or at least, they expected you. The way they spoke... it was like they were waiting for something."

Cerys nodded, her voice carrying a rare note of agreement. "And that 'almost ready' phrase—who were they referring to? You?" She gestured at Mikhailis with a tilt of her chin. "Or something else?"

The thought sent a flicker of unease crawling down his spine. He had no intention of becoming someone else's pawn in a game he barely understood.

Rhea let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through her loose curls. "The worst part? This whole thing still doesn't tell us who they are. The Crownless House? The Technomancers? Some ancient order that's been hiding under our noses for centuries?" She shot a pointed look at Mikhailis. "Because if you were important enough to be 'almost ready,' then we're missing a big piece of the puzzle."

Mikhailis rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I hate puzzles."

Lira, who had finished tending to his wound, let out a soft sigh. "Then maybe next time don't go sticking your hand on ancient ruins and accepting mysterious invitations from masked strangers."

He flashed her a lazy grin. "But where's the fun in that?"

Her lips pressed into a thin line, but he caught the way her fingers lingered just slightly against his wrist before she pulled back, retreating into her usual composed elegance.

Vyrelda pushed away from the wall, her gaze settling on Mikhailis once more. "So what's our next move?"

Mikhailis exhaled. "We still don't know enough. We're dancing around too many unknowns. The ruins, the mist, the Crownless House, them—it's all connected, but we don't have the full picture."

Cerys crossed her arms. "Then we need to get it."

Mikhailis leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. "We have three choices. One—we reach out to the Crownless House. They clearly know more than they let on, but trusting them is risky. Two—we dig deeper into the ruins and try to find something that gives us an upper hand before they do. Or three—we track the mist anomalies and find out where this new faction is operating from."

Vyrelda frowned. "That last one could be a trap."

Rhea smirked. "So could the first two."

Mikhailis sighed. "So we pick our poison."

Lira, ever the strategist, spoke up next. "Then we split. Rhea and I will work the merchant underbelly—see if there's any talk about the disappearances or anything unusual happening outside the city. If the Technomancers are detaining people, someone will know about it."

Cerys nodded. "Vyrelda and I will go for the Technomancer data vault. They keep records on everything. If these masked figures have appeared before, there's a chance we'll find traces of them in the archives."

That left Mikhailis.

He cracked his knuckles. "And I'll go anomaly-hunting. My brain will guide me."

Vyrelda gave him a flat stare. "Alone?"

He grinned. "Well, I figured if they want me so badly, maybe I should let them catch me."

Cerys let out a scoff. "Idiot."

Lira didn't speak, but there was a flicker of something unreadable in her dark eyes before she turned away.

Rodion's voice echoed smoothly in Mikhailis's mind.

<Abnormal mist fluctuations continue in localized zones. Current patterns suggest intentional manipulation rather than residual effects from the ruins. Probability of external control: 89%.>

Mikhailis's grin faded.

Well. That wasn't ominous at all.

Mikhailis's golden eyes flickered with thought. So someone is actively shaping the mist. That means they have a goal. The question is—do they want control or chaos?

He straightened, rolling his shoulders as the weight of their situation settled deeper into his bones. The flickering candlelight in the hideout cast long shadows, stretching across the walls like silent watchers, mirroring the unseen forces closing in on them. A faint chill crawled along the stone floor, adding to the tension thick in the air.

"We need answers," he said, voice firmer this time. "We're running blind."

Lira met his gaze, her usual composed elegance tinged with sharp calculation. "Then we split up. We gather intel."

Mikhailis exhaled slowly. "Right." He turned to the others, his golden eyes glinting with renewed determination. "Lira, Rhea—you two hit the merchant underbelly. See what the city rats have to say about missing people and unexplained phenomena. If anyone's been moving in the shadows, they'll have heard whispers."

Rhea grinned, stretching her arms above her head with a casual air, but her gaze held a sharpness that hadn't been there before. "Finally, some action," she quipped, her fingers twitching at her sides, itching for movement.

"Don't get caught," Lira added smoothly, adjusting the cuff of her long sleeve. "Unlike some of us, I don't have the patience to break you out of another basement cell."

Rhea scoffed. "That was one time. And in my defense, the guy deserved to be pickpocketed. Who even wears that much gold in public?"

"You just wanted a new pair of earrings," Lira deadpanned.

Mikhailis hid his amusement behind a smirk before turning to the others. "Cerys, Vyrelda—you're on the Technomancers. They keep records. If there's anything about these masked figures or mist anomalies, they'll have logged it. Find a way into one of their data vaults."

Cerys cracked her knuckles, the sound echoing softly in the confined space. There was something almost predatory in her stance, a readiness to act. "Silent or loud?"
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"Silent," Vyrelda answered before Mikhailis could, her red eyes sharp as ever. "We're not picking a fight we don't need."

Cerys exhaled through her nose, rolling her shoulder. "Fine. But if things go south, I'm not pulling punches."

Mikhailis smirked. "Wouldn't expect you to."

He could feel the energy in the room shifting, the casual exchanges masking the quiet acknowledgment of risk. They weren't just gathering information—they were walking straight into the paths of powerful enemies, betting that they could snatch pieces of truth before those enemies realized they were even playing the game.

Mikhailis felt Rodion hum to life in the back of his mind, the AI's voice cutting through the planning with its usual crisp efficiency.

<Analyzing mist anomaly patterns. The strongest fluctuations remain concentrated around an abandoned manor near the eastern district. Probability of relevant information: 78%.>

He tapped his fingers against the table, considering. The masked figures, the mist manipulations, the strange whispers… It all connected back to something deeper than just a struggle for power.

"And I'll be following the mist itself," he announced. "I'm tracking the strongest anomaly right now, and it's leading to an abandoned manor."

Silence stretched for a moment. Lira's brows furrowed slightly, a flicker of hesitation crossing her usually poised face.

"You're seriously going alone?" she asked, and though her tone remained composed, there was a weight behind the single word.

Mikhailis offered an easy grin, throwing up a casual hand. "I'll be fine. Worst case scenario, I die and come back as an urban legend."

Lira let out a soft sigh, tilting her head just slightly. "If you die, I'm haunting you."

He gave her a playful wink, leaning back with a mockingly thoughtful expression.

"Looking forward to it."