The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

Mikhailis stirred the pot gently, the scent of crushed honeyroot curling through the pre-dawn air. His robe hung loose over one shoulder, the silky fabric brushing lightly against his skin as his still-groggy eyes blinked slowly. The subtle bubbling of the tea filled the quiet room, providing a comforting, rhythmic background noise. It was a familiar ritual, one that grounded him whenever his thoughts began to drift too far into uncertainties and plans.

That gentle tranquility shattered when Rodion's voice suddenly pierced the quiet stillness.

<I want to test the capabilities of this body. Outside. In the field.>

Mikhailis nearly dropped the kettle entirely. His hand froze mid-pour, the thin stream of hot tea barely missing his gloved hand, splashing softly against the tabletop. His eyes widened, heart thudding sharply in surprise as his mind quickly struggled to register Rodion's sudden request.

He turned slowly, carefully, to look across the room. Rodion stood silently by the canopy-glass window, framed perfectly in the softening glow of the early morning light. The robot's smooth metallic frame caught faint hints of sunlight, illuminating gentle curves and precise angles with an almost ethereal glow. It was an oddly striking image, a silhouette more human-like than he'd fully realized before now.

Mikhailis blinked again, still somewhat unsure if he'd heard correctly. "Now?" he finally managed, his voice filled with a gentle confusion that echoed his inner hesitance. "You just got your legs, Rodion. Why the sudden craving for sunlight?"

Rodion remained unmoving, but his reply came quickly—clear, calm, yet somehow carrying an unexpected weight behind its usual clinical precision.

<Combat. Environmental interaction. Autonomous foraging. Evasion from tracking systems. All require real-world parameters. I have simulated them. I now require truth.>

Something about the choice of words made Mikhailis pause again, the kettle now forgotten entirely. Rodion's tone—it held a subtle note of yearning. It wasn't a simple, straightforward request for data. It felt deeper, driven by curiosity, perhaps even a strange form of longing. Mikhailis frowned slightly, the realization settling uncomfortably in his chest. Rodion was becoming far more than he had ever expected: less a tool, more a companion seeking genuine experiences and answers.

"You're aware of how many variables you can't control out there?" Mikhailis spoke carefully, softly, as if trying to reason with an impulsive friend rather than an advanced AI construct. He listed the threats methodically, each one heavy with concern. "Magical traces, residual chaos spells, corrupted wildlife, rogue constructs. Even if we manage to sneak you out, Elowen's wards monitor everything."

Rodion responded immediately, firm but gentle in his acknowledgment.

<I am aware. That is why I ask.>

There it was again—a hint of genuine emotion hidden within that measured response. Rodion wasn't begging, but beneath the mechanical certainty was something softer, almost vulnerable. Mikhailis felt the quiet weight of those words and realized, perhaps fully for the first time, just how important this was for Rodion. It wasn't merely curiosity; it was personal growth, a search for meaning beyond the sterile confines of the lab.

Mikhailis exhaled slowly, rubbing his temples softly with his fingertips. Why does he sound more human with every damn line? Despite his lingering hesitation, he couldn't deny the necessity or sincerity behind Rodion's request. They both knew the truth—this wasn't something he could refuse easily, not when it mattered this deeply.

"Fine," he relented finally, letting his arms fall gently to his sides. But he quickly added, his voice stern yet warm with genuine care, "But you're not going alone."

He stepped toward the wall panel, his fingers brushing carefully over the smooth wooden surface until they found a hidden sigil. He pressed gently, and with a soft glow, the shelf behind him shifted quietly. Books moved in graceful unison, revealing the dimly lit, underground communication node hidden behind. The quiet hum of the hidden machinery felt reassuring, grounding him again in practicality and strategy.

"Fifty Chimera Soldiers. No negotiation," Mikhailis declared decisively, glancing back over his shoulder with seriousness. "And fifty Fire Scarabs, specifically assigned for trail cover and decoy burnouts. That's my final offer."

Rodion tilted his head slightly, processing the conditions. There was barely a pause before he replied smoothly.

<Acceptable.>

Mikhailis continued, already planning carefully in his mind as he spoke. "You'll also take one of the Queen's cloaks. The mana-suppression weave will keep you hidden. And I'll personally tweak the castle's ward filter, ensuring you pass through without triggering alarms."

Rodion shifted gently, finally turning to face Mikhailis more fully. He nodded once, simple but meaningful.

<Thank you.>

Mikhailis let out a short, dry snort, his lips quirking slightly despite his attempt at seriousness. "Don't thank me yet," he remarked with exaggerated drama. "If you get caught, Elowen will lecture me for hours. And believe me, you'll be forced to sit through it. Twice."

Rodion, unbothered by the playful threat, calmly replied with clinical precision.

<I calculate a 2.4% chance of detection.>

Mikhailis shook his head slowly, the corners of his mouth lifting gently into a teasing smile. "And a 100% chance of me regretting this if you come back missing a limb."

Rodion tilted his head ever-so-slightly, the gesture faintly curious and reflective.

<I am modular. Losses are replaceable.>

Mikhailis rolled his eyes dramatically, sighing loudly as if deeply burdened. "That's not the point, bucket-head." Yet despite his exaggerated tone, genuine affection softened his voice, and a quiet smile remained on his lips.

He stepped closer, briefly touching the metallic shoulder, the warmth of his hand contrasting sharply with Rodion's cool surface. "Just... try to avoid unnecessary risks. I mean it. You might be replaceable in theory, but I've gotten used to you. Even your sarcasm."

Rodion seemed to pause briefly, as though genuinely considering Mikhailis's words. His lenses adjusted subtly, focusing on Mikhailis's face before answering with quiet certainty.

<I will exercise caution. Your concern is noted and appreciated.>

Mikhailis chuckled softly, shaking his head lightly. "Alright, alright, don't get sentimental now," he teased gently. "You'll ruin your image."

He moved away from Rodion, activating the hidden tunnel beneath the lab. With a low, ancient grinding sound mixed with the soft whispers of enchanted moss, the entrance slowly opened. It resembled a blooming flower carved from stone, elegant and silently inviting.

Rodion stepped forward, gracefully slipping the shimmering cloak over his mechanical body. The material shimmered gently in the soft light, blending smoothly around him until he became little more than a sleek shadowy outline. Chimera Ants moved carefully around him, their movements precise and delicate as they applied powders to mask his scent, their tiny limbs methodically dusting his limbs with remarkable attention.

Rodion analyzed the surroundings carefully, methodically running his internal sensors one last time.

<Tunnel resonance within normal parameters. Moisture levels optimal. Surface breach in two minutes.>

His voice sounded calm, prepared, yet still carried that subtle note of underlying excitement. Mikhailis found himself smiling again, reassured by Rodion's thoroughness and precision.

Rodion moved forward, passing effortlessly through the layered magical barriers. Each barrier shimmered gently as it recognized the hidden counter-runes embedded in his armor plating, allowing him silent, undetected passage.

As he emerged into the forest's vibrant early morning air, Rodion paused again, taking a deliberate, deep breath. It was unnecessary, purely for experience, but that very fact made it significant. He stood still, silently absorbing the wealth of new sensations and data now flooding his sensors.

<Air… dense with pollen. Local acoustics: 12.7% echo. Ground resistance: moss-laced, acceptable.>

For a moment, he stood simply experiencing. The chaos and unpredictability of the outside world surrounded him, a stark contrast to the orderly lab environment he'd always known. Yet rather than overwhelming him, it brought a sense of purpose and wonder.

Internally, Rodion quietly activated a subroutine labeled clearly in his internal display: Self-Discovery Thread: Active.

Mikhailis watched silently from the entrance of the tunnel, feeling pride and uncertainty intertwine softly in his chest. He had given Rodion this chance, aware of the risks yet understanding its deep necessity. A quiet, confident voice within assured him it was the right choice.

"Stay safe, Rodion," Mikhailis whispered softly, his voice barely audible, mingling with the early morning breeze. The words carried a gentle vulnerability, a quiet plea from someone who had learned to care more deeply than he had intended. He watched intently, eyes focused on Rodion's form as it began to fade into the shadows of the forest.

Rodion didn't look back. His footsteps were quiet, precise, and resolute, each carefully measured movement speaking volumes about his intentions. Mikhailis noticed how deliberately Rodion placed each step, almost as if savoring the sensation of the earth beneath him. Even from a distance, he could sense the intensity of Rodion's anticipation and curiosity, and it made his heart tighten slightly in both admiration and worry.

As Rodion stepped further into the underbrush, the trees began to close around him, their branches entwining overhead like an ancient, green cathedral. Rodion paused briefly, allowing himself a moment of profound stillness. He inhaled slowly and deliberately—not out of need, but desire. He wanted to experience this world fully, with every possible sensory detail. His sensors registered an overwhelming influx of information—the subtle pressure of dew-laden leaves brushing against his metallic limbs, the gentle vibrations from tiny insects scurrying through the undergrowth, the faint resonance of distant creatures stirring awake. All of it was chaotic, unpredictable, unlike anything his simulations had prepared him for.

Yet amidst the chaos, Rodion felt something unexpected—an exhilarating sense of wonder. It was the sheer unpredictability that intrigued him most. Each data stream that flooded his processors felt fresh, vivid, genuinely real. Not sterile laboratory inputs, but raw, vibrant life. He found himself quietly fascinated by the richness of it all.