The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

Chapter 315 The Mist's Gambit (1) Three Days

The room was silent except for the faint hum of the Technomancer device, its pulse a steady reminder of the mystery sitting at the edge of Mikhailis's consciousness. He leaned back in his chair, fingers idly tapping against the wooden armrest as he studied Arvel, who had remained standing, watching him with a level stare. The weight of the prince's message lay between them on the table, the seal of Serewyn's royal house unbroken no longer.

Three days.

Three days until Prince Laethor arrived to discuss what could only be the most precarious offer Mikhailis had received in recent memory. Three days to decide how deep he wanted to entangle himself in Serewyn's problems. If at all.

Arvel exhaled, clasping his gloved hands behind his back. "The prince is taking a measured approach with you. He's aware of your... unique position."

Mikhailis smirked but said nothing.

"You're not just another researcher passing through," Arvel continued, watching him carefully. "You're a foreign entity. A wild card."

"Flattering." Mikhailis flicked a glance toward the device, then back to Arvel. "If he wanted my help, why the subtlety? He could've just demanded an audience outright."

Arvel's lips twitched slightly. "And what would you have done if he had?"

Mikhailis's grin widened. "Ignored him."

"Exactly." Arvel stepped closer, resting his hands on the back of a chair. "Prince Laethor values cooperation, not coercion. He knows the difference between forcing someone's hand and giving them a reason to take it willingly."

"A rare trait in royals," Mikhailis murmured, more to himself than to Arvel.

Rodion's voice chimed in his mind.

Mikhailis stretched, rolling his shoulders before standing. He picked up the Technomancer badge and turned it over in his fingers. "Fine. I'll hear what he has to say. But I'm not a politician, nor am I looking to join anyone's war."

Arvel's eyes flickered to the device on the table. "Then what are you looking for?"

Mikhailis smiled. "Answers. And maybe a bit of fun along the way."

The emissary regarded him for a moment before nodding. "Very well. Three days from now, the prince will arrive in Luthadel. We will arrange for a discreet meeting."

"Rodion," he murmured. "Run a full deconstruction analysis on this thing. I want to know exactly what makes it tick."

Mikhailis set the device down on the desk, the wood barely muffling the faint vibration. It looked deceptively simple—compact, smooth, its metal casing reflecting the dim light of the lantern overhead. And yet, despite its size, it carried an air of significance, as if whoever had built it had designed it with a purpose beyond mere utility.

He exhaled through his nose, rubbing the bridge of it between his fingers before moving toward the small window that overlooked the city.

Luthadel stretched out below him, veiled in its ever-present mist, the glowing barriers of the noble district standing stark against the gloom. Beyond them, the city twisted and darkened, the lower districts shrouded in thicker fog, their streets barely illuminated by flickering lanterns.

Even now, at this late hour, Luthadel breathed in hushed murmurs. Figures moved through the streets in careful steps, their silhouettes dissolving into the mist like ghosts. The city never truly slept—it only changed its pace.

His gaze flicked toward the barriers, the golden sigils burning steadily along the stone walls of the noble quarters. Protected. Untouched. Untainted.

And yet, even there, the mist was beginning to creep in.

Mikhailis chuckled under his breath. "They're losing control."

Which meant someone was testing the limits.

He smirked. "Well, isn't that interesting?"

Letting the curtain fall back into place, he turned from the window and flopped onto the bed, exhaling heavily as he stared at the ceiling.

Three days.

That was plenty of time to dig deeper. To see just how far the Technomancers' influence reached. To find out what the device truly was, how it connected to the mist, and more importantly—what the Technomancers were planning next.

And, if necessary, to decide whether or not he wanted to burn the whole thing down.