The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

Long before the Technomancers, before their machines and artificial wards, Serewyn had been known as The City of Alchemists—a place where science and magic blended seamlessly, where mist wasn't feared but understood. The kingdom had thrived through its mastery over alchemy, its scholars unlocking secrets within the mist, using it not just for survival but for prosperity.

The mist had been a partner, not an oppressor.

Alchemists developed ways to purify it, to extract its latent properties, transforming it into elixirs, enchanted oils, and protective barriers that harmonized with the natural world rather than fought against it. Mist-brewers were once as common as blacksmiths, crafting potions that enhanced the body, fortified the mind, and even extended life.

But all of that had changed when the Technomancers arrived.

They did not seek to coexist with the mist—they sought to dominate it.

Using their artificial wards and engineered barriers, they disrupted the natural flow of Serewyn's mist, severing the people's connection to it. The old ways were deemed obsolete. The alchemists who once shaped the kingdom's prosperity were pushed aside, their knowledge suppressed, their methods dismissed as primitive. And as the people forgot, the Technomancers tightened their grip.

Dependency replaced mastery.

The mist, once a gift, became a weapon.

Mikhailis traced his fingers over one of the ancient inscriptions, a faint, silvery glow sparking beneath his touch. A diagram of mist flow, a forgotten technique for redirecting and manipulating its density without the use of mechanical intervention.

"So," he murmured, voice laced with intrigue. "Serewyn once controlled its own mist… without Technomancer interference."

Lira stood beside him, her gaze unreadable. "This changes everything."

Cerys crossed her arms, her expression carefully neutral, but Mikhailis could see the way her fingers flexed slightly against the hilt of her sword—a telltale sign of tension, of something unsettling stirring beneath her composed exterior.

"This means the Technomancers didn't create the solution," Vyrelda muttered. "They stole it. And twisted it into something else."

Mikhailis smirked, brushing dust from his coat. "Classic move, really. Find something that works, claim it as your own, then make everyone else dependent on you for it."

Lira shot him a look, half amusement, half warning. "You're enjoying this."

"Oh, immensely," he admitted. "There's nothing quite like discovering a buried conspiracy in the depths of a forgotten crypt. Really gets the blood pumping."

Cerys sighed. "This isn't just a conspiracy. If Serewyn once had a way to regulate mist naturally, then there's a chance we could undo what the Technomancers have done."

Mikhailis's golden eyes gleamed with mischief. "Now, that's a thought."

But before they could discuss further, a distant sound echoed through the tunnels—a faint, rhythmic vibration. Not footsteps. Not voices.

Something mechanical.

They had lingered too long.

Lira was the first to react. "We need to move."

They hurriedly gathered what they could—fragments of the carvings, notes scribbled into parchment, anything that might help them piece together what had been lost.

Mikhailis carefully slid one of the loose stone tablets into his coat, its weight grounding, solid. This wasn't just history. This was power.

A power that might just tip the scales.

They barely made it back to the surface before the sound of something unnatural—something large—began stirring in the depths behind them.

But they didn't stay to find out what it was.

They emerged into the damp night air, the mist curling around them in silent greeting.

Luthadel loomed ahead, its glowing wards flickering, fighting against the night.

They ensured they weren't followed before slipping back into the narrow streets, the weight of discovery pressing heavy on their shoulders.

They gathered what they could before making their way back to the inn, ensuring they weren't followed.

____

As night fell, Mikhailis lounged in his chair, legs casually propped up on the wooden table, eyes fixed on the dim candlelight flickering in his room. The scent of aged parchment and the faint hum of magic from the stolen Technomancer device filled the air. His mind was a storm, pieces of the puzzle slowly clicking into place.

The Technomancers weren't just controlling the mist. They were refining it. Modifying it. Fine-tuning it based on region, influence, and, most disturbingly, obedience.

And now, they knew someone was tampering with their system.

Rodion had finished analyzing the relay station's logs before they fled. The most alarming revelation was a planned surge—two days from now, a massive shift in mist concentration was set to take place in a specific part of the city. There was no recorded explanation. No reason given. Just a directive marked Pending Execution.

A controlled mist surge.

For what purpose? A test? A show of power? An extermination?

Mikhailis sighed, tilting his head back against the chair. Damn, this keeps getting better.

He tapped his fingers against the armrest rhythmically. "Rodion, give me a breakdown of the surge's projected location."

<Processing. Based on available data, the affected zone lies near the western districts of Luthadel, bordering the outer residential sectors. Estimated population density: high. Socioeconomic status: lower to middle class. Notable features: Known rebel sympathizer movements, minor noble estates, trade hubs for off-market goods.>

Mikhailis clicked his tongue. "So, not just random."

<Correct. The surge aligns with previously recorded mist manipulations. Correlation suggests that areas of high civil unrest or reduced noble oversight receive higher mist density.>

His golden eyes flickered toward the device on his table, the small metal construct pulsing faintly. "And this little toy of ours is linked to it?"

<Affirmative. The stolen Technomancer device functions as a node interface. However, its energy signature contains discrepancies—implying external tampering. It is possible that another party, separate from the primary Technomancer command, has altered its purpose.>

Mikhailis rubbed his chin. "So there's a third player in this game."

<Likely.>

That made things even more interesting.

A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. He didn't move immediately—Lira never knocked. And the others wouldn't be stupid enough to approach his room without reason.

The knock came again. This time, two sharp raps, a pause, then one more.

Cautious. Measured.

Mikhailis rolled his eyes. "Lira, you can drop the dramatics."

The door creaked open, and Lira stepped in without ceremony. She had already changed into her nightwear—loose black silk draped over her frame, though her ever-present ponytail remained neat. Her gaze swept the room before settling on him.

"You're still awake."

Mikhailis snorted. "What, did you expect me to be fast asleep after today's little adventure?"

"I expected you to be playing with your new toy." She nodded toward the device.

"Oh, I already did. It told me some interesting secrets. Want to hear them?"

Lira crossed her arms, leaning against the wall with effortless grace. "Tell me the important ones."

Mikhailis flicked the device lightly, watching as it vibrated against the wooden surface. "One, this thing isn't just a controller. It's been modified. Someone outside the Technomancers got their hands on it first."

Lira's brows arched slightly, though her composure remained intact. "Meaning?"

"Meaning there's another party in this mess. And they're smart enough to mess with Technomancer tech."

She didn't reply immediately, letting that sink in before speaking. "And the second thing?"

"The mist surge. In two days. It's hitting the western districts."

Lira's arms tightened against her chest, her expression unreadable. "That's a highly populated area."

"Yep."

"High enough that if something went wrong, it would cause a panic."

"Or a massacre."

Silence stretched between them, thick as the mist outside.

Mikhailis finally sighed, stretching lazily. "Alright, what's your concern?"

Lira didn't hesitate. "They've already noticed us. The stolen badge, the broken relay, the disturbance in the mist network—we're not invisible anymore."@@novelbin@@

Mikhailis smirked. "I'd be more concerned if they hadn't noticed."

She narrowed her eyes. "You're enjoying this."

"A little." He gave a light chuckle, but there was no mirth behind it. "This isn't just some authoritarian control scheme, Lira. It's a full-scale operation. They've built the mist into the foundation of this kingdom's survival. It's not just manipulation—it's dependency. People don't fight their masters when they think they need them."

Lira exhaled slowly. "And now we're involved."

"We were involved the moment we stepped into this city."

Her gaze flickered toward the window. The mist outside swirled thick and heavy, pressing against the glass like a restless entity.

"They'll come after us soon," she warned.

Mikhailis's grin widened. "Good."

Lira frowned. "Mikhailis—"

He waved a hand. "No, really. If they come after us, it means we're on the right track. Means we hit something important."

She stared at him, her sharp, intelligent gaze searching his. Then, slowly, she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Sometimes, I wonder why I follow you."

Mikhailis smirked, standing up and stepping closer. "Because I'm charming."

Lira rolled her eyes. "Because I'm your maid. And you're a reckless lunatic."

"And yet, you're still here."

Lira's lips twitched—just slightly. "Unfortunately."

He chuckled before walking past her, heading toward the window. The mist curled, shifting in silent waves. For a moment, he let himself just watch, taking in the way it moved, the unnatural way it ebbed and flowed.

Too precise. Too deliberate.

Something felt different tonight.

Rodion's voice cut through the quiet.

<Mikhailis.>

He didn't move. "I see it."

Lira turned. "See what?"

Mikhailis's grin faded slightly, his gaze sharpening.

The mist, thick as it was, had begun to shift unnaturally. Not with the wind, not in response to the city's movements—but in direct reaction to something unseen.

A shadow moved.

Barely visible.

Watching.

It lingered, just beyond the glow of the nearest streetlamp. A silhouette that didn't belong, unmoving against the restless mist.

Mikhailis's pulse remained steady, his body relaxed, but his mind was already running through calculations. Distance, angles, escape routes.

Rodion whispered in his thoughts.

<No confirmed life signatures. Humanoid figure. No visible weaponry. Purpose unknown.>

Lira, sensing his shift in focus, stepped beside him. She followed his gaze, her breath slowing.

Then, just as suddenly as it had appeared—

It vanished.

The mist swallowed it whole. Continue your saga on My Virtual Library Empire