The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

Mikhailis tilted the small vial in his hand, watching steam rise as if the brew inside held whispers of morning. The faint sunlight streamed through gaps in the lab's ceiling, painting warm stripes across his desk and illuminating specks of floating dust. He took a careful sip, allowing the tea's warmth to slide down his throat, gently erasing the last lingering traces of sleep.

Stretching back in his worn chair with a contented sigh, he let his eyes roam the cluttered room. Books stacked haphazardly leaned like tired soldiers, while vials of various colors glinted from their shelves like distant stars. The quiet hum of the room's machinery made him smile faintly, each whir and click feeling familiar and soothing.

"So, Rodion..." he began, a playful smirk quirking the corner of his lips. He tilted his head slightly, looking at the empty air as if the AI had a physical form floating nearby. "How's our wonderfully fruitful plan doing today?"

Rodion's reply came swiftly, without hesitation, his formal tone tinged subtly with that familiar edge of sarcasm.

<Progress is statistically miraculous. Efficiency ratios are exceeding expectations by 36.7%. Graphs incoming.>

Mikhailis chuckled softly at Rodion's almost boastful tone, swirling the vial gently in his fingers. "Statistically miraculous? You're beginning to sound more like a merchant than an assistant, you know."

There was a brief pause, a subtle click, and then suddenly, the room was filled with gentle, glowing lights. Tiny holographic pixels danced briefly in the air, forming into a translucent monocle that settled perfectly over Mikhailis's left eye. With an intrigued hum, he leaned forward, feeling the slight, comforting coolness as the monocle adjusted its alignment with his vision.

Almost immediately, the room burst into life around him. Colorful floating charts spun softly in midair, shimmering graphs appearing with elegant ease. Each graphic unfolded like a delicate paper flower, revealing layer upon layer of fascinating detail. One graph spiked sharply upwards, glowing with vibrant blues and greens, showing potion production grouped neatly by different ant types. Another expanded into a detailed ingredient breakdown, each element labeled meticulously, lines tracing chemical reactions like pathways in an alchemist's maze.

His eyes skimmed quickly, absorbing the data until he reached the last graph—a success matrix punctuated by rows of cheerful, glowing green checks and… was that a tiny gold trophy icon bobbing proudly at the corner?

Mikhailis raised a skeptical eyebrow, a soft laugh escaping his lips. "Rodion, seriously? You gave our ant army a virtual achievement badge?"

He squinted incredulously, leaning closer to examine the digital trophy as it floated gently, spinning slowly. "They don't exactly need morale boosts. They're ants."

Rodion's voice came again, calm but tinged with mild reproach.

<Incorrect. They have hive behavioral reinforcement structures. Analogous.>

Mikhailis shook his head, suppressing another laugh. Rodion's insistence on precise terminology always managed to amuse him, though he'd never openly admit it. "Alright, alright, I'll let you have this one," he conceded playfully, taking another careful sip of tea. The liquid was slightly too bitter, he decided, with an aftertaste suspiciously similar to Rodion's dry commentary. He made a mental note to ask Lira to add more honey next time.

Still smiling slightly, Mikhailis leaned further back, lacing his fingers behind his head. "Now, break it down for me. Just what exactly did you do while I was busy not dying back in Serewyn?"

Rodion paused—almost dramatically, Mikhailis thought—before responding. The air shimmered as new imagery unfolded around him, vivid scenes flickering into view like miniature silent movies projected in perfect clarity.

<While you were entertaining political theatrics and avoiding intimate collapse, I utilized the Chimera Ant Queen's neural lattice interface—connected via her embedded chip—to access all Worker sensory relays.>

Mikhailis blinked slowly, processing Rodion's words. A slow grin broke across his face, disbelief mixing with admiration. He set his vial down on the cluttered table, careful not to knock over a precarious stack of alchemical journals. "You... you actually used our dear Queen as some kind of router?"

Rodion's reply was instantaneous, coolly dismissive yet somehow triumphant.

<Crude. But yes.>

Mikhailis laughed openly this time, shaking his head in amused disbelief. "Crude, huh? I prefer to call it creative innovation."

He leaned forward, captivated by the vivid images Rodion continued to project. Scenes of chimera ant workers scuttled along intricate underground corridors, their tiny pincers deftly mixing droplets of rare ingredients into etched runic bowls. Some worker ants carried miniature distillation sets, their eyes reflecting soft bursts of alchemical flames.

Another set of imagery revealed intricate production lines—distillation tubes spiraling upward, storage racks fashioned from sturdy bones and luminescent fungal resin that glowed gently in the dim subterranean tunnels. Even from this distance, the craftsmanship and precision of the chimera ants' work amazed him. Rodion had certainly taken full advantage of the hive's unique talents.

Something else caught his eye. He squinted closely, leaning in until the glow from the monocle faintly reflected in his gaze. "Hold on... Is that Dreammoss in one of your stabilizer cradles?"

Rodion's voice came again, smoothly confirming the observation.

<Affirmative. I took the liberty of acquiring samples from the Serewyn potion reserves during our withdrawal. I have since dissected all components.>

Mikhailis sat back slowly, his grin widening into something genuinely appreciative. "You sly circuit," he murmured, genuine surprise mingling with pride. "I leave you alone for a few days, and you practically reverse-engineer half of Serewyn's alchemy vault?"

<Approximately forty-seven percent.> Rodion corrected smoothly, with just enough smugness to make Mikhailis snort softly.

"You didn't slack off at all, did you?" Mikhailis mused, eyes glittering with humor. "And here I thought you were just pilfering my emergency sugar rations for your endless espresso experiments."

Rodion responded almost immediately, tone effortlessly nonchalant.

<Sugar was necessary for chemical comparisons.>

The AI paused for an infinitesimal moment, just enough for Mikhailis to notice. When it continued, its voice had softened slightly, more candid than usual.

<Also, your presence was missed. The silence was productive.>

The gentle sincerity in Rodion's remark caught Mikhailis off guard, briefly freezing his teasing expression. His brows rose slightly, taken aback by the unexpected admission. It was a rare moment, he knew, when Rodion showed anything resembling sentimentality.

He smiled, quietly acknowledging the hidden weight behind Rodion's words. The warmth in his chest felt strangely comforting. "Missed, huh?" he echoed softly, gaze drifting to the motes of sunlight that filtered through the dusty air. "Didn't know an AI could get lonely."

Rodion's response came after a small pause, the slightest hint of indignation creeping into his tone.

<Loneliness implies emotional lack. My systems merely noted the significant decrease in distracting variables.>

Mikhailis chuckled warmly, shaking his head as he took another slow sip from his vial. This time, even the tea's slight bitterness tasted comforting, familiar. "Of course, Rodion. How could I ever doubt your cold, mechanical heart?"

Rodion didn't reply, though Mikhailis thought he detected a faint hum of irritation from the AI's core processing unit tucked away beneath the floorboards.

A quiet silence settled between them. For a moment, the only sounds in the room were the distant bubbling of a distillation flask and the gentle rustling of pages as a slight breeze sifted through the lab. Mikhailis savored the tranquility, eyes scanning the glowing holograms that continued to spin softly in the air around him. Numbers and symbols danced and flickered, each one a small testament to Rodion's meticulous work.

Finally, Mikhailis broke the silence, voice quietly earnest beneath his casual facade. "You did good work, Rodion. I mean it."

Rodion's voice remained steady, but for once, lacked its usual sarcastic edge. The response came soft, formal yet sincere.

<Acknowledged. Your absence forced unexpected adaptations. It was… insightful.>

Mikhailis smiled to himself, warmth spreading comfortably through his chest. Perhaps Rodion wouldn't openly admit sentimentality, but beneath the cool surface of formal logic, a different language was quietly spoken between them—a language of shared experience, mutual respect, and subtle companionship.

Raising the vial again, Mikhailis toasted the empty air lightly, eyes glinting with warmth and quiet gratitude. "Well then, here's to productive silence and unexpected adaptations."

Rodion, of course, didn't reply. But somehow, Mikhailis knew the AI understood perfectly.

All of this while I was out in Serewyn juggling nobles and monsters... Not bad.

He reached down and triggered the latch near the floor. A low hiss escaped as a platform beneath the desk split apart and rose slowly, revealing polished obsidian storage containers. Magnetic locks disengaged with a soft click, sending a tiny shiver of excitement along Mikhailis's spine.

"Let's see how our stolen toys are doing,"