The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

"Let's see how our stolen toys are doing," he murmured, leaning forward slightly, eyes glinting with anticipation.

Inside lay the Syndicate's old alchemist toolset—gleaming silver shears that adjusted size at the barest touch, pipettes that shimmered softly as they dripped faint traces of mana, infuser rings etched with runes humming gently with latent energy, and grinders whispering smoothly as they spun without a single physical nudge. He ran his fingers lightly over their sleek surfaces, feeling the delicate thrum of enchantment vibrating beneath his fingertips.

This wiped-out blacksite may have been the most useful deathtrap we stumbled into.

He chuckled softly at the irony. It wasn't every day that a deadly encounter ended up becoming a source of fortune. Mikhailis reached out and picked up the distillation cage, its silver frame adorned with intricate runic designs that gleamed softly, almost lovingly. The cage settled into his palm like an old promise finally being fulfilled, its weight somehow comforting. He shifted his grip, examining it carefully. Tiny gears and delicate magical threads hummed within, whispering the cage's potential.

His gaze drifted thoughtfully toward one of the large wall screens opposite his workstation. A subtle flick of his wrist caused the screen to hum softly and awaken, zooming smoothly into a distant portion of the nest below—transformed now into a makeshift lab, crude but surprisingly sophisticated. He watched as Chimera Worker Ants scuttled efficiently around mixing stations carved from bone and illuminated softly by glowing fungi. The ants' antennae twitched rhythmically, synchronized perfectly with one another, their tiny mandibles clicking gently as they blended, stirred, and measured potions.

Several of the worker ants had been equipped with tiny augmented lenses, strapped delicately over their compound eyes. These lenses gleamed softly, catching and refracting the light as they analyzed faint magical auras rising from the concoctions. Mikhailis couldn't help but smile as he noticed another group of ants standing on hind legs, their tiny front legs gripping miniature levers to churn enchanted mixers. It was fascinating—almost surreal—to witness such precise and coordinated alchemical craftsmanship performed not by human hands but by mandibles and tiny insect limbs.

He leaned forward, elbows resting on the smooth obsidian platform, his expression lighting up as an idea flashed through his mind. "Rodion," he mused aloud, the edge of excitement unmistakable in his voice, "imagine what we can do with this. I can mass-produce healing drafts, detox salves, maybe even those tricky fogburn remedies everyone keeps asking about."

Rodion responded immediately, his crisp, neutral tone carrying a faint note of satisfaction.

<Confirmed. Volume scale predicts 240 units a day with current speed.>

Mikhailis let out a low whistle, eyebrows lifting appreciatively. "Two hundred forty a day, huh?" His eyes sparkled, already calculating the possibilities. "That means a surplus. We can do more than just stockpile this stuff for emergencies."

He straightened, pacing thoughtfully around the platform, the gears of strategy already turning rapidly in his head. His hands moved expressively as he spoke, the excitement palpable. "We can start selling the excess potions—not just here in Silvarion Thalor, but everywhere we have influence. Gods, we could even tap Estella's trade network for this, push our reach well beyond the borders."

He spun suddenly, eyes bright with enthusiasm, almost knocking over a precarious stack of scrolls as he gestured animatedly. "Think about it, Rodion! This could generate enough revenue to finance our own operations independently. No more squeezing kingdom funds, no more annoying budget reviews from Earl Vaelis. Complete autonomy."

He caught his breath, realizing he'd become unusually impassioned. A soft laugh bubbled from his throat as he shook his head. "Mark the calendar, Rodion actually praised me."

The AI was silent for a fraction of a second, as though deliberating over a response before delivering it calmly.

<I simply stated observable facts. Please refrain from excessive self-congratulation.>

Mikhailis waved the comment aside with a dismissive laugh, turning his attention back to the open storage container, fingers brushing fondly against the alchemist tools once more. They represented more than potential profit—they symbolized a new degree of freedom and leverage he hadn't previously possessed.

His mind briefly drifted back to the day they'd discovered the Syndicate blacksite, recalling the fierce clash and the overwhelming sense of victory once the battle was over. It had been messy and dangerous, but now, as he gazed at these tools humming softly with magical potential, the risk felt entirely justified. He let his gaze linger on the gleaming silver, savoring the moment of triumph.

After a thoughtful pause, he tapped another tab on the console, causing the holographic interface to shift and reconfigure itself. Complex tunnel maps spiraled out, tracing glowing paths beneath Silvarion Thalor. He examined them closely, eyes scanning over pulsing lines that stretched like luminous veins beneath the earth.

"Now," he murmured, voice dropping to a more sober tone, "what about the corpses?"

Rodion's reply came without hesitation, precise and clinical.

<Chimera Workers have successfully tunneled 63.2 kilometers using reinforced acid-bore drills. Eighty-two Technomancer and Serewyn soldier bodies secured. ETA to central nest: twenty-three hours.>

The screen displayed pulsing red lines, illustrating the precise routes the ants had carved out. Mikhailis leaned forward, tracing a fingertip along the glowing pathways thoughtfully. His mind immediately began calculating the implications—each corpse was a wealth of resources, nutrients, magical residues, and genetic potential. The nest would thrive, expand, and evolve from such a bounty.

He smiled faintly, satisfaction warming his features. "That's enough protein to hatch a dozen new variants..." His voice trailed off as his imagination began constructing vivid images—new Chimera Ant warriors, specialized breeds, each designed for unique tasks and combat roles. His smile deepened into a confident grin. "…if the Queen gets creative enough."

He felt a rush of pride and anticipation swell in his chest, already envisioning the possibilities. The Queen had proven herself more than capable of extraordinary feats of adaptation. Given such ample resources, he could scarcely begin to predict what she might accomplish next.

"Now that's the spirit," he muttered approvingly, almost speaking directly to the distant Queen.

Another file shimmered into existence before him—a military projection this time, lined with numerical values and charts detailing army composition and growth.

Rodion's steady voice provided clarity and context.

<Fire Scarab offspring have increased by 220%. New total: 800. Units are being assigned to Worker patrols as combat decoys, explosive baits, and emergency nutrient sacs.>

Mikhailis watched with grim fascination as a short playback appeared. In it, a Worker Ant carefully placed down a swollen nutrient sac. A Fire Scarab approached it, shell unfolding in a delicate pattern before suddenly bursting into controlled flame, creating a defensive perimeter of fire. Another scarab scuttled forward bravely, drawing the attention of potential predators.

He shivered slightly, a sober realization tightening his expression. The brutality of such calculated tactics wasn't lost on him. It was ruthlessly efficient, and entirely logical—yet something about the cold pragmatism made his stomach turn just slightly.

He sighed softly, muttering under his breath, "The politics of insect war... brutal."

Rodion's voice returned without missing a beat, crisp and coolly analytical.

<Efficiency doesn't ask for fairness. Ants understand this.>

Mikhailis gave a noncommittal hum, shaking off the fleeting unease. Rodion wasn't wrong—the ants weren't burdened by human notions of fairness or morality. Still, he couldn't completely dismiss his lingering discomfort. Perhaps it was a necessary reminder of his own humanity amidst the increasingly ruthless calculus of survival and dominance.

He drew another slow, thoughtful breath, fingers tapping absently on the console. The growing power of their Chimera Ant forces was undeniably thrilling, but he reminded himself quietly to maintain vigilance. Such strength demanded careful management.

He straightened slightly, stretching the tension from his shoulders. Despite his misgivings, he felt a stirring of pride—pride in Rodion's unwavering capability, in his own unorthodox ingenuity, and most importantly, pride in the formidable creature their Queen had become.

It was becoming increasingly clear: their venture had begun as survival, but now it was blossoming into something far grander—something powerful enough to reshape the fate of entire kingdoms.

Mikhailis allowed himself a soft smile. Whatever challenges lay ahead, he was more than ready to face them, with Rodion's efficiency and his army's relentless strength at his side.

Rodion continued, summarizing the latest developments without emotion.

Mikhailis leaned back slightly, arms crossed, giving only a non-committal hum. He was used to Rodion's endless stream of reports by now, but every once in a while, the AI still managed to surprise him. Today seemed to be one of those days.

Rodion's voice remained steady, clear, and relentlessly analytical.

<Nightshade Mushrooms at 96% projected yield. Glowcap Fungus now integrated into ambient nest lighting. Ironvine Root has formed nutrient tunnels across twelve sectors.>

Mikhailis raised a brow, curiosity flickering in his eyes. The agricultural expansion had seemed ambitious at first, perhaps even overly optimistic. But seeing the reality now, he felt a subtle sense of satisfaction. He stood slowly from his chair, stretching lightly, feeling the stiffness fade from his muscles.

Stepping closer to the holographic display, he studied the projection of the sprawling nest beneath the surface. The vertical slice showed clear, detailed visuals. Nightshade Mushrooms clustered like tiny violet lanterns, pulsing gently as if breathing. Glowcap Fungus threaded along the walls and ceilings, casting gentle hues of blue and green. It wasn't just functional—it was beautiful, like a natural tapestry woven into existence by his own guidance and Rodion's precise planning.

A smile softened Mikhailis's face. "That Ironvine Root... It's forming natural highways of nourishment, isn't it?" He touched the hologram gently, following the winding, glowing pathways. "Almost poetic, Rodion. Functional beauty at its best."

<If by poetic you mean structurally efficient and strategically valuable, then yes, it is quite poetic.>

Mikhailis chuckled softly. Rodion might never truly grasp the aesthetic beauty he saw, but even this clinical agreement was enough. His attention shifted slightly as another projection appeared beside the agricultural map.

"And the slimes?"