The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

The group took a detour, just as Mikhailis had suggested, avoiding the treacherous territory of the Skorak. The path they chose was narrow and winding, with steep cliffs rising to one side and sudden drop-offs plunging into unknown depths on the other. The forest canopy above grew denser the further they traveled, blocking out the sun and creating an eerie, twilight-like atmosphere even though it was still midday. The air grew colder, and strange sounds echoed from the depths of the forest—low rustlings, distant growls, and whispers carried by the wind.

Lira, who usually carried herself with an air of composed grace, was beginning to look visibly unsettled. Her eyes darted to every shadow that moved, her hand trembling slightly as it rested on her lap. Estella, whose earlier confidence had made her seem untouchable, wasn't faring much better. Her eyes shifted anxiously, darting from one side of the path to the other, her face tense. Without even realizing it, she clung to Mikhailis's arm, her fingers digging into his sleeve, seeking reassurance.

Rhea, on the other hand, took advantage of the opportunity the unsettling atmosphere presented. She leaned into Mikhailis, letting out small, dramatic gasps every time a branch rustled or a shadow moved. She snuggled herself closer against his side, her eyes wide as she looked around.

"Milord, do you think there could be monsters lurking out there?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

Mikhailis glanced at her, trying not to smile. He could see right through her act. "Monsters, you say? Oh, for sure. I bet there are at least three or four terrible beasts waiting to jump out at any moment," he said, his voice playful.

Rhea gasped, clinging even tighter to his arm, her head resting against his shoulder.

"Oh, Milord! You'll protect me, won't you?" she asked, her eyes fluttering up at him.

Mikhailis chuckled, shaking his head.

She really knows how to put on a show.

He gently patted her hand, giving her a reassuring smile.

"Of course, Rhea. I'll make sure no monsters eat you. I mean Cerys and Vyrelda wil," He glanced at Lira, who was sitting stiffly beside him, her eyes focused ahead, trying to ignore Rhea's antics. Estella, on his other side, let out an exasperated sigh, though she didn't let go of his arm.

"Honestly, Rhea, must you be so dramatic?" Estella muttered, though her grip on Mikhailis remained just as tight.

"I can't help it, Lady Estella," Rhea replied, her voice soft and innocent.

"I'm just so frightened." She nuzzled against Mikhailis's shoulder, earning another sigh from Estella.

Vyrelda, who was driving the wagon, kept her gaze focused ahead, her jaw tight. Her sharp eyes scanned the path, her back straight, radiating confidence. Though she appeared unfazed, Mikhailis could tell she was on high alert. The horses sensed the tension too; their ears flicked back and forth, their hooves moving cautiously over the uneven ground.

Cerys, riding alongside the wagon, was unusually quiet. Her usual aloof demeanor was even more pronounced, her face unreadable as her horse began to fidget beneath her, its ears twitching nervously. The animal's steps faltered, and Mikhailis noticed Cerys's posture stiffen.

"Cerys, are you sure you're fine?" Mikhailis called out, leaning forward to get a better look at her.

Cerys didn't respond at first, her focus entirely on keeping her horse calm. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, her eyes staring straight ahead. Mikhailis frowned, worry creasing his brow.

<Mikhailis. It's dangerous. Her horse is losing it.>

Rodion's voice echoed in his ear, his tone urgent. Mikhailis immediately understood the seriousness of the situation. He turned to Vyrelda.

"Vyrelda, we need to slow down," he said, his voice sharp.

Vyrelda shot him a questioning look but obeyed, pulling gently on the reins to slow the horses. Mikhailis moved quickly, stepping out of the carriage and climbing onto the coachman's seat beside Vyrelda. He scanned the path ahead, his eyes narrowing as he noticed the unstable edge of the cliff they were traveling beside. Just as he opened his mouth to warn Vyrelda, the ground beneath Cerys's horse gave way.

The cliff crumbled, rocks and dirt tumbling down the steep slope. Cerys's horse reared in panic, and she lost her balance, slipping from the saddle.

"Shit!"

Without hesitation, Mikhailis leaped from the coachman's seat, his heart pounding in his chest. He lunged towards her, grabbing her mid-fall. With his free hand, he pulled out a rope he had prepared earlier, wrapping it around them both.

The world seemed to slow down as they fell. Mikhailis's mind raced, assessing their options. He tried to attach the rope to the carriage, but as he glanced up, he realized that doing so would destabilize the entire wagon, risking everyone else's safety.

Damn it. He grimaced, making a split-second decision.

He pulled the rope away, allowing them both to fall freely.

The wind rushed past them, the ground below approaching fast. Mikhailis gritted his teeth, using all his strength to throw the rope towards a nearby tree.

The rope caught, and he wrapped his arm around Cerys, holding her close as they swung towards the cliffside. The impact was hard, the breath knocked out of him as they hit the ground on a lower ledge. Mikhailis used his body to shield Cerys from the brunt of the fall, grunting as they tumbled to a stop.

They had landed on a small outcropping, a narrow ledge halfway down the cliff. Mikhailis lay still for a moment, his entire body aching from the impact. His vision blurred, darkness creeping in at the edges. He could barely make out Cerys's face above him, her expression filled with uncharacteristic worry.

"Your Highness!" she called, her voice panicked. She shook his shoulders, trying to keep him conscious.

Mikhailis managed a weak smile, his eyelids feeling heavy.

"Don't... worry," he whispered, his voice barely audible. And then everything went black.

___
Experience tales with My Virtual Library Empire

Mikhailis awoke to the sound of a crackling fire. His head felt heavy, and a dull ache pulsed through his entire body. He blinked, his vision slowly coming into focus. The first thing he noticed was the warmth beneath his head—something soft and comforting. He recognized the sensation immediately.

A lap pillow.

He tilted his head slightly, looking up to see Cerys's face above him. Her usually indifferent expression was softened by concern, her eyes red-rimmed, as if she had been crying. As soon as she noticed he was awake, she let out a breath of relief, her shoulders relaxing.

"You're awake," she said, her voice trembling slightly.

"Ah. So this is a heaven's pillow," Mikhailis suddenly uttered.

"Ouch!"

Cerys reached up and gave him a light slap on the forehead.

"Sorry, Your Highness. I got swept up by your words and ended up hitting you," she added, her tone a mix of frustration and relief.

Mikhailis winced slightly at the slap, then let out a chuckle. He lifted his head, giving her a grateful smile.

"Thanks for the kindness," he said, his voice hoarse. As he reached up, the first thing he saw was her face, her eyes red-rimmed and her cheeks flushed, with remnants of crying evident from the redness. He gently touched her cheek, brushing away the remnants of her tears.

"It's fine," he whispered.

"Thank you for watching over me."

Cerys's eyes widened slightly, her usual stoicism faltering as she let her vulnerability show for a brief moment. She looked away, her face flushing.

"Even if we're alive now, the problem is still there," she said, her voice regaining its edge.

"We're alone in this forest, filled with magic beasts. We've lost the horse, our provisions, and the tent. It's already night." She bit her lip, frustration evident in her tone.

Mikhailis sat up slowly, grimacing as he felt the soreness in his muscles. He looked around, taking in their surroundings. The forest was dark, the trees casting long shadows in the firelight. The air was cold, and the distant sounds of creatures moving through the woods echoed around them.

"Hmm... that's interesting," Mikhailis muttered, his eyes glinting with excitement.

"I never thought the genre would turn into survival so quickly. But I'm glad I'm in creative mode."

Cerys frowned, her confusion evident.

"What are you uttering, Your Highness?"

Mikhailis grinned, pushing himself to his feet.

"It's fine, Cerys. I'll show you the magic of modern knowledge." He looked around, his eyes scanning the forest floor. He needed materials—anything he could use to create shelter and tools. He immediately took out his folded knife out.

He began gathering branches, vines, and large leaves, his movements quick and efficient despite the lingering pain in his body. Cerys watched him, her expression a mix of confusion and disbelief.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice skeptical.

Mikhailis looked over his shoulder, his grin widening.

"Surviving, of course. Just sit tight, and watch the magic happen."

With the materials all lined up, Mikhailis set to work. He had gathered several branches, each around 120 centimeters in length, and a collection of thick vines measuring about 200 centimeters each. He also found several large leaves, some over 50 centimeters wide, which he intended to use for covering.

<Start by tying the branches at a 45-degree angle, Mikhailis. Use two vines per joint for maximum stability. The framework should be around 1.5 meters tall.>

Rodion's voice guided him through the process, and Mikhailis followed the instructions meticulously. He used the vines to tie the branches together, creating a solid framework. He worked quickly, his hands moving with practiced ease as he constructed a makeshift tent.

<Now, secure the base with additional vines—wrap them twice for reinforcement. Attach the leaves on top, overlapping by at least 20 centimeters to prevent water leakage.>

He tied the branches securely, using the large leaves as a covering to keep out the cold and damp, following Rodion's precise measurements. The makeshift tent began to take shape, sturdy enough to withstand the chilly night.

After about twenty minutes, the makeshift tent was complete. It was small but sturdy, with a few "windows" made from thinner leaves to let in some light. Mikhailis stepped back, admiring his handiwork. He then reached into his pack, pulling out two long, folded objects. With a flick of his wrist, he unfurled them, revealing two sleeping bags.

"Whoosh!" he said, imitating the sound as he unfolded the sleeping bags. He turned to Cerys, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Now the place for us to sleep is ready."

Cerys stared at the tent and the sleeping bags, her mouth slightly open in disbelief. She shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips despite herself.

"You're unbelievable, Your Highness."

Now she start to sounds like Vyrelda.

Mikhailis winked at her, giving her a playful salute.

"I aim to impress." He gestured towards the tent.

"Now, the problem is food." He rubbed his hands together, his eyes scanning the dark forest around them.

"Let's see what we can find."

Cerys sighed, shaking her head.

"This is going to be a long night," she muttered, though there was a hint of admiration in her voice as she watched Mikhailis, her gaze softening ever so slightly.