The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

Chapter 312 Stealing the First Piece

A few steps away, a beggar hunched against a crumbling wall, his face partially hidden beneath the folds of a tattered hood. Unlike the usual broken figures that dotted the lower districts, this one had sharp eyes—calculating, scanning. He wasn't watching the passing guards out of fear. No, this was assessment.

Rodion caught on before Mikhailis had to say anything.

Mikhailis chuckled under his breath. Even the lowest of Luthadel had their roles to play.

His attention returned to his companions, who had finally stopped at a well-frequented stall. A plump merchant with a broad, beaming smile was carving thin slices of mist-cured venison, each cut releasing an aromatic smoky scent that made Mikhailis' stomach rumble in appreciation.

Neatly arranged beside the venison were plates of glowing duskfruit, their faint bioluminescent glow making them appear almost otherworldly. Even in daylight, the fruit pulsed softly, as though carrying the essence of the mist itself. Next to them, golden-crusted Thalorian honeybread was stacked neatly, the embedded runes along its edges shimmering faintly.

"I'll take five," Estella declared, already reaching for a pouch of coin.

Cerys, standing beside her with arms crossed, raised an eyebrow. "That much?"

"We've earned it." Estella grinned, her enthusiasm unshaken. "Besides, it's good to try new things."

Mikhailis chuckled, watching as they shared a meal, the simple act feeling almost surreal after weeks of camping in ruins and abandoned villages. The city's ambiance was different from any place they had visited before—both grand and oppressive, the air thick with unspoken rules and quiet negotiations happening in every corner. The marketplace bustled with an eerie orderliness, people moving as if following a script they all knew by heart. Merchants conducted their transactions in half-whispers, hands exchanging goods with practiced efficiency, their eyes scanning the mist-laden streets for signs of trouble.

The mist itself felt like a living entity, shifting between the buildings, curling around signposts, and dissipating in thin wisps as it touched the arcane streetlamps that fought to keep it at bay. It was an ever-present veil, not thick enough to obscure everything, but enough to give the city a dreamlike quality—like a place constantly teetering on the edge of reality.

Mikhailis leaned on the wooden stall, taking a slow bite of the mist-cured venison. The meat was rich with an earthy smokiness, slightly tougher than he preferred, but the flavor was something unique—almost as if the mist itself had seeped into it, altering its essence. Across from him, Estella and Rhea were already halfway through their portions, both of them utterly enamored with the city's culinary delights.

"This is delicious," Estella murmured between bites, her golden eyes gleaming with delight. "I don't care if this city is built on lies; the food makes up for it."

Rhea chuckled, tearing off a piece of Thalorian honeybread and handing it to Vyrelda, who accepted it with a small nod. "You're too easy to please, Milady."

Vyrelda leaned back against the counter, casting a glance at Mikhailis. "You really think this prince's messenger is going to be worth the effort?"

Mikhailis wiped his fingers on a napkin, savoring the lingering taste. "Depends. If he's anything like the rest of this city, he'll have an angle. Which means we'll need one too."

Cerys, who had been eating in silence, scoffed lightly. "You assume we don't already." She took a measured sip of water, her crimson hair swaying as she glanced around the square. Her gaze was always assessing, calculating—not out of paranoia, but habit.

Lira, sitting beside Mikhailis, lifted her cup of mist-infused tea to her lips, her movements graceful and deliberate. Her dark eyes remained watchful, always attuned to their surroundings. "Trusting royalty in a kingdom built on secrecy is foolish," she murmured, voice as composed as ever.

Mikhailis grinned, propping his chin on his palm as he leaned toward her. "If we were worried about deception, we wouldn't have come here in the first place."

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Lira met his gaze, her lips curving into the faintest hint of amusement. "I suppose that means we're already beyond salvation."

Mikhailis chuckled, taking another bite of his food. "Exactly."

The group continued eating, the conversation shifting between idle chatter and subtle observations about the city.

Estella, naturally the most excitable of them, pointed toward another stall where a vendor was displaying vials of what appeared to be liquid mist. "That looks interesting." She nudged Rhea. "Let's check it out."

Rhea sighed, already knowing that resistance was pointless. "Fine, but don't try to buy anything cursed this time."

With that, the two of them wandered toward the alchemist's stand, their presence immediately drawing the vendor's attention.

Mikhailis barely needed to blink before Rodion responded, flashing data across his vision.

A spy in a city full of secrets. How fitting.

Mikhailis resisted the urge to smirk. If the man was watching them, then Mikhailis would return the favor. Subtlety was a game he played well, and right now, it was time to set the board. He relaxed his posture, his expression shifting into something casual and unbothered as he strolled toward the stall. His steps were deliberate but lazy, just another traveler browsing for supplies.

He slowed near the merchant's stand, idly glancing at the produce—a fine selection of preserved meats, dried herbs, and bread that looked just stale enough to make a desperate man think twice before buying. The merchant himself was a grizzled old man, his hands worn from years of handling goods, his sharp gaze shifting between customers with the natural wariness of a veteran trader.

The spy was only a few feet away now, close enough that Mikhailis could see the subtle twitch of his fingers as he adjusted the fabric of his sleeve. Not nervous, just controlled. A man trained to leave no trace.

Perfect.

With a smooth, calculated motion, Mikhailis took a step forward—and collided with the stranger's shoulder.

The bump was light, just enough to be believable. Just enough to be an accident.

"Oh, my bad," Mikhailis muttered, feigning a distracted air as he glanced up, meeting the man's eyes for the briefest of moments.

The stranger barely reacted. He inclined his head in a neutral nod, muttered a quiet "Excuse me," and kept walking, blending seamlessly back into the flow of the crowd.

Mikhailis didn't watch him go. That would be too obvious. Instead, he let his hand drop to his side, fingers curling slightly.

Something metallic and cool pressed against his palm.

His lips curled into a satisfied smirk.

Smooth as ever.

He took a moment before glancing down, his fingers subtly shifting to reveal his prizes—a badge and a small, unfamiliar device.

Rodion's sarcasm was immediate.

Mikhailis twirled the device between his fingers, feeling its weight, the cool metal oddly smooth against his skin. Whatever it was, it wasn't standard Technomancer gear—too refined, too seamlessly blended between arcane and mechanical elements. It pulsed faintly, a subtle hum of energy resonating beneath its surface, though he couldn't yet determine its purpose.

Rodion's analysis flickered across his vision.

Mikhailis's grin widened. This wasn't just some disposable trinket. Whatever this was, the agent had been carrying it for a reason. And now, it was in his hands.

He slipped the items into his pocket, casually adjusting his coat as though nothing had happened. "Now this..." He chuckled to himself, barely above a whisper. "This is an interesting research opportunity."

The mist thickened around them, rolling through the streets in curling tendrils, seeping past weakened barriers like an eager predator. It blurred the city's edges, made every shadow stretch longer, every figure seem just a little less real.

Mikhailis exhaled slowly, his mind already spinning with possibilities. He'd have Rodion break the device down later, trace any magical imprints, dissect its purpose piece by piece. But more importantly, this little stunt had confirmed something—the Technomancers were watching.

And now, they had something to watch in return.

The game in Luthadel had only just begun, and he had just stolen his first move.@@@@