The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

The sunlight stretched across the landscape like a painter's brush, bathing everything in gold and warmth. Mikhailis sat atop their horse, his posture a little slouched from the lingering aches in his body, but his sharp eyes scanned the horizon with an almost childlike curiosity. The world outside the mist-filled cavern was utterly transformed. Gone was the suffocating fog that had hung heavy and damp; in its place was a scene of unparalleled clarity. Lush greenery spread out like a living quilt, distant hills rolled gently against the backdrop of a clear blue sky, and sparkling streams wove through the land like glistening veins of silver.

"Well," he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair.

"I guess getting tossed around by a mini-dragon has its perks."

The air itself felt lighter, carrying the earthy scent of freshly drenched soil and a faint trace of blooming flowers. For a moment, Mikhailis forgot the dull throb in his ribs and the sharp sting in his side. Instead, he let himself get lost in the view, drinking in every detail as though the storm had gifted him a rare piece of art.

No mist, no gloom… Just this. Feels almost wrong after how dreary it's been. Stay updated with My Virtual Library Empire

He tilted his head slightly, catching sight of a grove of trees not too far away. Their leaves danced in the sunlight, shimmering with an almost ethereal brilliance that seemed to transform each one into a tiny, living gemstone. The interplay of light and shadow cast fleeting patterns across the ground, as if the forest itself was alive and rejoicing in the storm's aftermath. It was mesmerizing, almost surreal, like a scene plucked from a dream.

Even the nearby streams seemed to partake in the celebration, their crystalline waters rushing over smooth, time-worn stones with a musical quality that was both soothing and invigorating. The sound was richer, clearer than anything he'd ever heard before, as though the land was eager to flaunt its renewed beauty. The ripples caught the sun, scattering prismatic flashes of color across the bank, making the stream sparkle like a cascade of liquid diamonds. Mikhailis let his gaze linger, feeling a deep, inexplicable calm settle over him as he took in the vibrant, unfiltered splendor of the world around him.

Mikhailis shifted slightly on the horse, glancing at the clear skies and the lush landscape stretching before them. The ride had been smoother than expected, thanks to the Chimera Ant scouts ensuring the path was clear and their horse moving with uncharacteristic vigor. The absence of mist revealed a stunning array of details: sparkling streams reflecting the golden sunlight, distant hills rolling gently into the horizon, and a symphony of birdsong filling the crisp air.

But his attention kept wandering back to Cerys. Her arms were wrapped securely around his waist, holding the reins, and he could feel the steady warmth of her presence against his back. Her soft breaths brushed against his neck as she guided the horse, and he couldn't help but notice how relaxed she seemed.

"The Lone Wolf seems to be enjoying this a lot," he said, his tone teasing but laced with genuine curiosity.

Cerys stiffened slightly at his words, her grip on the reins tightening for a moment.

"Enjoying what, Your Highness?" she asked, her voice steady but carrying a faint edge of defensiveness.

"This," he said, gesturing vaguely.

"You're all cozy back there, hugging me from behind like this. Admit it, you're having fun."

Her cheeks flushed a faint pink, but she tilted her head defiantly.

"Aren't you the one enjoying this?" she countered. "Your head's practically resting on my chest."

Mikhailis smirked, unabashed.

"Well, I won't deny that your softness is… very comforting. It's too delicious to ignore."

Cerys's blush deepened, but before she could retort, Mikhailis suddenly straightened, his expression shifting to one of seriousness.

"Wait, hold up," he said abruptly. "Stop the horse."

She blinked, startled by his change in tone.

"What's wrong?" she asked, pulling the reins to halt the horse's progress.

Mikhailis swung a leg over and slid down from the saddle with a grunt, his movements careful to avoid aggravating his still-healing injuries. He scanned the ground, his sharp eyes catching something unusual in the soil ahead.

"I need to check something," he said, crouching down and running his fingers through the earth. His eccentric air was gone, replaced by a focus that drew Cerys's attention as she watched him from the saddle.

"What is it this time?" she asked, her curiosity piqued despite herself.

"Hold on," he murmured to himself, dismounting with a grunt. The motion was slow and deliberate, every step a battle against his protesting muscles. He crouched down near the patch of soil that had caught his eye, his curiosity piqued by its unusual appearance.

The ground here was… different. The soil had distinct layers, each one varying in color and texture. He scooped up a handful, letting the grains sift through his fingers. The upper layer was dark and loamy, rich with organic matter, but beneath that lay a layer of pale, almost silty material. It was subtle but strange enough to make him pause.

"Rodion," he whispered, keeping his voice low.

"Give me a read on this. What's going on here?"

<Analyzing… The soil composition is highly irregular. Upper layer: organic-rich and teeming with microbial life, indicative of recent organic deposition. Middle layer: high in silt content, formed from sediment accumulation during prolonged mist exposure, with particles loosely bonded by residual mana. Lower layer: compacted clay infused with trace amounts of mana particles, a result of high moisture retention and the gradual settling of mana-infused mist over decades. These conditions suggest a complex interaction of environmental factors—humidity promoting mana absorption, fluctuating temperatures causing repeated contraction and expansion of the soil layers, and mana crystallization altering the soil's chemical properties. The compacted clay layer, in particular, indicates poor drainage and could significantly impact root aeration and nutrient uptake.>

Mikhailis's brow furrowed as he dug deeper into the layers with his hands, exposing the distinct strata.

"Okay, but why the mana particles?"

<The mist in this region contains mana in a gaseous state, which settles onto the ground over time. High humidity accelerates the process, causing particles to bind with the soil in dense, compact formations. Over decades, this creates a layering effect, with each storm and seasonal shift further influencing the composition. Additionally, the recent storm's temperature fluctuations likely caused rapid expansion and contraction within the soil, disrupting its delicate equilibrium and exposing these stratified layers. This unique interaction between magical and environmental elements reflects a dynamic, ongoing process of land transformation, shaped as much by natural forces as by the pervasive influence of mana.>

He nodded slowly, his mind piecing together the information.

"So the mist wasn't just annoying; it was literally changing the land. Could this affect crop growth? Or…"

<Significantly. Mana-infused particles may enhance growth in some areas but hinder it in others due to imbalanced absorption rates. The compacted clay layer suggests poor drainage, which could exacerbate root rot in plants.>

Mikhailis rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"It's like the land's been… reset. Not quite fertile but not barren either. A weird middle ground. Imagine a chalkboard that's been wiped down but not cleaned completely—you can still see the faint traces of what was there before. It's like the soil's history hasn't been erased, just smudged and layered over. The mana particles probably act like chalk dust, influencing how things grow or struggle here."

<Correct. Such conditions are rare but not unprecedented in regions with prolonged magical interference.>

"Fascinating," he murmured, losing himself in the analysis. His fingers traced the layers again, feeling the subtle differences in texture. He could almost see the story of the land unfolding before him—years of mist, storms, and mana leaving their mark like a painter's brush on a canvas.

"You're really into this, aren't you?" Cerys's voice broke through his concentration. He glanced up to find her sitting nearby, her chin resting on her hands, her elbows propped on her knees. Her gaze was soft, almost amused, as she watched him with a mix of curiosity and quiet admiration.

For a moment, Mikhailis was caught off guard. Her posture, the way she tilted her head slightly, and the faint smile on her lips exuded an unusual softness. The way the sunlight touched her skin highlighted a delicate glow, and the slight shift in her movement left just a teasing glimpse of her cleavage visible. It was subtle but enough to draw attention, making her appear less like the stoic warrior he'd come to know and more like…

Like a wife watching her husband ramble about something he loves.

His face heated at the thought, and before he could stop himself, he reached out and scooped her face into his hands. Cerys blinked, surprised, but didn't resist as he pulled her closer and pressed his lips to hers.

The kiss was deep, lingering, and filled with a sudden intensity that caught them both off guard. Cerys responded without hesitation, her lips moving softly against his as her hands found their way to his shoulders. Despite her initial surprise, she seemed to instinctively follow the rhythm of his tongue, matching his movements with an eager yet delicate precision. Her breaths mingled with his, carrying a faint, sweet warmth that sent a thrilling jolt through him. She tilted her head slightly, allowing the kiss to deepen further, her soft lips parting to fully accommodate his intensity. The way she moved—tentative at first but quickly growing bold—spoke of her trust and unspoken desire. As her tongue brushed against his, a subtle gasp escaped her, her hands gripping his shoulders more tightly as though anchoring herself to him. Mikhailis, caught up in the intoxicating mix of her scent and taste, felt a rush of heat when she swallowed a small trace of his saliva, the deliberate motion adding an unexpected spark of intimacy. Each shared breath, each subtle movement, felt like an unspoken conversation, pulling them closer than words ever could.

But then pain shot through Mikhailis's side, and he groaned, breaking the kiss with a sharp inhale.

"Ow… Okay, bad idea," he muttered, wincing.

Cerys pulled back, her cheeks flushed a deep crimson. Her hands hovered over his shoulders, unsure whether to scold him or help him.

"That's what you get for moving so suddenly, Your Highness," she said, her voice tinged with both concern and exasperation.

He grinned despite the pain.

"Can you blame me? You're too cute."

She huffed, crossing her arms but unable to hide the small smile tugging at her lips.

"You're impossible."

"And yet, here I am," he quipped, pushing himself back to his feet with her help. He glanced at the soil one last time before brushing off his hands.

"I think I've got a rough idea of what's going on here. Let's get moving."

Before they departed, Mikhailis whispered another command to Rodion.

"Deploy twenty Chimera Ant soldiers and the Scurabons to guard the area. I want scouts ahead too."

<Noted. I already have the Scurabons engaging monsters entering the perimeter around you and the Lone Wolf>

"Good. Let's keep it that way."

As they mounted their horse, Rodion's voice buzzed again.

<Update: Vyrelda, Lira, The Merchant Estella, and her bodyguard Rhea have reached the border village of Serelyn. They passed through the checkpoint using Estella's merchant credentials.>

"So they made it," Mikhailis said with a wry smile.

"Let me guess—their journey was smooth as silk compared to ours?"

<Correct. Their full supplies and superior preparation allowed for a leisurely pace. In contrast…>

"Yeah, yeah," he interrupted.

"Rub it in, why don't you?"

Cerys glanced at him, her brow raised.

"What are you muttering about now, Your Highness?"

"Just thinking about Vyrelda and the others," he replied smoothly.

"They've already reached the village. Good to know they're safe."

Cerys nodded, her expression softening.

"I hope nothing happened to them along the way."

Mikhailis reached out, lightly taking her hand.

"They're fine. Don't worry."

The rest of their journey passed in relative quiet, the horse's steady gait carrying them through the vibrant landscape. The Chimera Ant scouts ensured no monsters crossed their path, and the well-fed horse moved with surprising energy. The view remained stunning, the storm's cleansing touch leaving the world sharper and more vibrant than ever.

Finally, as distant signs of habitation appeared—smoke curling lazily from chimneys into the crisp air, and cultivated fields stretching out like an intricate patchwork quilt in varying shades of green and gold, Mikhailis felt a wave of anticipation. The faint hum of life reached his ears—sporadic clucking of chickens, the muffled laughter of children carried by the wind, and the faint ring of a blacksmith's hammer striking metal. It was a scene that breathed warmth and civilization into the wild expanse they had just traversed. The soft, earthy scent of tilled soil mixed with the sharper tang of wood smoke, grounding him as he exchanged a glance with Cerys. She smiled faintly, her earlier scolding giving way to a quiet sense of relief that matched his own.

<Mikhailis. We're almost arrive at the border of the kingdom of mist, Serewyn of the east>