The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

The two moved quietly through the narrow streets, their footsteps muffled by the soft dirt path that seemed to absorb the faint sounds of movement. The village was enveloped in an eerie silence, the kind that pressed against your ears and amplified every creak of wood, every rustle of leaves into something unnaturally loud. The air hung heavy with a damp chill, carrying the faint tang of soil and decay that clung to the stillness of the night.

Mikhailis's sharp eyes roved over the surroundings, noting the dim outlines of weathered houses. The buildings bore subtle signs of neglect: sagging roofs, chipped paint, and doors that hung slightly ajar, revealing the toll of hardship. Small details caught his attention—the faint scratches on door frames, likely from hurried repairs, and the discolored patches on walls that hinted at mist-induced wear. His keen gaze traced the edges of the village square, where the moonlight revealed the skeletal remains of a once-vibrant marketplace, its stalls now empty and forlorn.

He adjusted his gloves absently, his mind cataloging the details with practiced efficiency. Each shadow and hollow echoed the struggles of the villagers, the quiet desperation that seemed etched into every corner of the settlement. He noticed a stray lantern swaying gently in the breeze, its weak glow casting long, flickering shadows that danced like specters across the dirt path. A faint chill ran down his spine as the oppressive stillness settled deeper, amplifying the isolation of their task.

Cerys moved with a silent grace beside him, her presence steady and grounding. She kept her red hair tucked beneath the dark hood of her cloak, her sharp green eyes scanning their surroundings with a warrior's vigilance. Her every movement was deliberate, her body poised like a coiled spring, ready to react to the slightest provocation. Mikhailis stole a glance at her, noting the subtle tension in her frame and the way her gloved hand rested near the hilt of her sword, a comforting readiness that reassured him more than he would admit.

"They're struggling," he muttered under his breath, his voice low enough to blend with the rustle of the night breeze.

Cerys glanced at him, her brow furrowing slightly.

"Struggling doesn't cover it. This place feels… hollow. Like it's been bled dry."

Mikhailis nodded, his thoughts mirroring hers.

"It's the silence that gets me," he replied, his tone tinged with something almost melancholic.

"It's too loud for a village that's supposed to be alive."

They exchanged a brief look, unspoken understanding passing between them. The mission had just begun, but the weight of what they were uncovering already loomed heavily in the cold, quiet air.

Rodion's voice cut in, its tone crisp and focused.

<There are three primary objectives for tonight's investigation. First, collect soil samples from key areas to analyze contamination levels. Specifically, we need to focus on three critical zones: the central well, where water contamination might be affecting crop viability; the village perimeter, to check for signs of soil degradation indicative of mist encroachment; and the abandoned fields, where the mist's long-term impact on fertility needs thorough assessment. Second, conduct a survey of the structural integrity of homes for evidence of erosion or damage caused by prolonged mist exposure. This includes looking for subtle signs like warped wood, discolored stone, or unexplained cracks that could hint at mist-related anomalies. Finally, observe the state of tools, livestock, and storage facilities to uncover any hidden agricultural practices or anomalies that might offer clues to the villagers' coping mechanisms or indicate external interference.>

Mikhailis nodded slightly, his mind already organizing the tasks.

"Cerys, keep an eye out for guards. We don't need unnecessary attention tonight."

She gave a curt nod, her eyes sharp as she scanned the darkness.

"Understood. Where do we start?"

"The central well," he said, motioning toward the village square.

"Rodion—" he caught himself, quickly correcting, "—my analysis suggests it's a key point for contamination."

They moved quickly, Mikhailis kneeling by the well with a practiced efficiency, his sharp eyes scanning the ground before he began his task. The soil near the well was damp, clinging to his gloves as he carefully scooped it into a small vial. He held the sample up to the moonlight, turning it slightly to examine its texture and color. The faint sheen of moisture reflected the faint glow of the moon, revealing subtle inconsistencies that piqued his interest. His movements were deliberate, sealing the vial with a quiet snap before tucking it into a pouch at his side.

"So far, so good," he muttered under his breath, his voice barely above a whisper as his mind processed the preliminary observations. The dampness of the soil suggested proximity to the water table, but the faint discoloration hinted at possible contamination, a detail he would need to analyze further.

Cerys stood a few steps away, her sharp gaze sweeping the surrounding area. The faint creak of the well's wooden frame punctuated the silence as she asked, "What exactly are you looking for here, Your Highness?" Her voice was calm but carried a note of curiosity, her usual guarded tone softening slightly.

Mikhailis glanced at her briefly, his lips curving into a faint smile.

She didn't remember... Just what I thought, she's here for sex.

<You're entertaining yourself, Mikhailis>

"Contamination," he replied, gesturing toward the soil.

"The well's proximity to the mist's effects might have seeped into the groundwater. If that's the case, it could explain the impact on nearby crops—or worse, the people drinking from it."

Cerys tilted her head, her red hair catching the moonlight as she considered his words. "And the discoloration? Is that part of it?"

"Good eye," he said, his tone genuinely appreciative.
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"It's subtle, but there's a greenish tint. Could be algae, could be something worse. Either way, it's a clue worth chasing."

As he spoke, the faint glow of Rodion's data projections flickered within his glasses, overlaying additional details onto his field of vision. Rodion's voice hummed softly in his mind:

<Preliminary analysis suggests the presence of trace elements consistent with prolonged exposure to foreign particulates. Probability of chemical interference: 76%. Notably, these particulates may originate from residual atmospheric contaminants, likely interacting with the mist's pervasive chemical compounds. Preliminary chemical breakdown indicates traces of lead and sulfur compounds, consistent with industrial runoff or bioaccumulative pollutants often linked to regions under prolonged environmental strain. These interactions could result in altered soil pH levels and nutrient bioavailability, further impairing fertility. Proceed with further sampling to confirm these findings and refine the hypothesis.>

Mikhailis nodded slightly, acknowledging the input as he stood and brushed off his gloves.

"We'll need to cross-reference this with the samples from the other areas. Rodion's initial readings indicate there's more going on here than meets the eye."

Cerys raised an eyebrow, watching as he adjusted his coat.

"Rodion?"

He blinked, realizing his slip.

"Uh, my analysis method. Just a name I use," he said quickly, brushing past it with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Anyway, let's move to the perimeter. I want to see how far the mist's effects have spread."

She narrowed her eyes slightly, but the faint blush on her cheeks betrayed a hint of embarrassment.

"Right. Lead the way."

"You always talk to yourself this much?" Cerys teased, her voice a whisper as she kept watch.

"Only when I'm thinking genius thoughts," he replied with a grin, earning an eye roll.

They continued to the outskirts of the village, where the soil grew drier and more brittle. Mikhailis crouched low, his sharp eyes scanning the ground before his fingers carefully sifted through the dry earth. The texture was unusual—crumbly but unnaturally coarse, with faint streaks of discoloration running through it like veins. The subtle hues of yellow and green hinted at chemical interference, a hypothesis he had begun to form as he worked. He leaned in closer, brushing away loose dirt with the back of his hand, revealing deeper layers that were darker, almost ashy in appearance.

Cerys observed him silently for a moment, her arms crossed as she watched his meticulous movements.

"Is it always this fascinating?" she asked, her tone carrying a faint hint of sarcasm.

Mikhailis glanced up briefly, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Fascinating might not be the right word, but this soil is definitely hiding something. Look here," he said, motioning for her to kneel beside him. He held up a clump of earth, pointing to the uneven coloration.

"See this discoloration? It's not natural. My analysis suggests that prolonged mist exposure is causing chemical reactions in the soil. Likely a mixture of atmospheric particulates settling and interacting with minerals."

Cerys leaned in closer, her green eyes narrowing as she examined the soil in his hand.

"So, you're saying the mist isn't just making things hard to see?"

"Exactly," Mikhailis replied, his tone shifting into one of focused explanation.

"It's altering the soil composition itself. Prolonged exposure could be leaching nutrients or introducing toxins. If you look closer," he added, pointing to a faint greenish hue, "you'll notice this coloration is consistent with trace sulfur compounds. Could be a result of industrial byproducts mixing into the environment. That's why the crops can't grow—it's basically poisoning them from the roots up."

Cerys tilted her head, her lips pressing together in thought as she studied the sample.

"So, this isn't just nature taking its course."

"Not at all," Mikhailis said, sealing the sample in a small vial with a practiced flick of his wrist.

"This is deliberate, or at least heavily influenced by external factors. Whoever—or whatever—is behind this mist, they're not just targeting the land. They're targeting the people who rely on it."