The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

Mikhailis took in a deep breath, trying to calm his frantic thoughts. The sudden shift from the comfort of the guest room to the crude, awkward goblin body had left him feeling disoriented. He glanced down, staring at his clawed green hands and feeling an unsettling weight in his gut. The other goblins around him moved with a casual rhythm, chattering in their crude language. He tried to mimic their movements—low to the ground, shoulders hunched—but every nerve in his body screamed at him that he didn't belong.

No Rodion, no backup. It's just me in this stupid goblin body... Wonderful.

The goblin captain—the one with the makeshift helmet that barely covered half his head—snapped something that sounded like an order. The goblins near him grunted and began to move, one of them shoving Mikhailis to follow along. He shuffled forward, trying to get his bearings while desperately attempting to understand the dynamics of their group. Their language was guttural and broken, each word almost spat out, but Mikhailis could pick up some of the intent. It was a crude hierarchy, but a hierarchy nonetheless—the bigger goblins barked commands, and the smaller ones obeyed without question.

This guy's the boss around here, at least for this group.

The captain gestured for them to move deeper into the network of tunnels, the walls narrowing as they went further down. The darkness pressed in, and Mikhailis had to rely on his heightened goblin senses to keep up. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and something foul that he couldn't quite place. It took all his willpower to stop himself from gagging. He kept his head down, watching the other goblins. They moved with purpose, almost like a military unit, albeit a very disorganized one.

There's something going on here. This isn't just some ragtag group of goblins causing trouble for fun.

He tried to focus on their behavior, hoping to find some clue. The goblins had a strange way of communicating—lots of grunts, hand signals, and the occasional shove. The captain, especially, seemed to have a knack for getting his point across with a mix of barking orders and well-placed kicks. Mikhailis watched, fascinated despite himself. It was crude, but effective. There was a clear chain of command, and the goblins followed it without question.

The captain barked something at Mikhailis, jabbing a clawed finger at the passage ahead. Mikhailis hesitated for a moment before nodding, trying his best to look obedient. He shuffled forward, feeling the eyes of the other goblins on him. He couldn't afford to draw attention to himself. He had to blend in, had to figure out what was going on here without getting himself killed.

Just play along, Mikhailis. Act like a good little goblin and maybe they won't notice you don't belong.

The deeper they went, the more Mikhailis could see how organized the nest really was. The tunnels opened up into larger chambers, each one bustling with activity. He saw goblin shamans gathered in a circle, chanting in low voices, their staffs adorned with bones and feathers. The air around them shimmered with some kind of dark energy—magic, he realized. The shamans were performing some kind of ritual, though what it was for, he had no idea.

This is serious. They're not just here to mess around; they're planning something.

Mikhailis moved along with the group, keeping his head down as they passed a group of goblins practicing combat drills. They swung crude swords and spears, their movements clumsy but full of brute force. A few larger goblins—likely hobgoblins—stood to the side, barking corrections and demonstrating techniques. Mikhailis watched, a sinking feeling settling in his gut.

These guys are training. They're preparing for something bigger.

The captain led them into another chamber, this one filled with piles of supplies—crates of weapons, bundles of arrows, even a few rusted suits of armor. Goblin engineers—identifiable by their assortment of tools and the strange contraptions strapped to their backs—were gathered around a large, makeshift table. Spread across it was a crude map of the Northern Province, marked with symbols that Mikhailis didn't recognize.

They're planning an attack.

Mikhailis tried not to let his alarm show as he shuffled past the table, sneaking glances at the map. He could see markings that resembled the wall defenses and notes scrawled in a language he didn't understand. The engineers were pointing at different spots on the map, nodding and grunting in agreement. They were strategizing, planning their next move.

And then he saw him—a goblin larger than the rest, wearing pieces of mismatched armor that looked like they had been scavenged from various sources. The goblin warlord. He stood at the center of the chamber, his eyes sharp, his posture commanding. The other goblins seemed to defer to him, even the captain who had led Mikhailis here. The warlord was speaking to the shamans, his voice low and measured, his eyes never leaving the map.

So that's the guy in charge... He's not just some random goblin. He's smart, and he's got these goblins working together.

Mikhailis watched as the warlord pointed at something on the map, the shamans nodding in agreement. The goblins weren't just a disorganized threat—they were strategizing, planning a coordinated attack. And it wasn't just the wall they were after. The map showed multiple targets, spread across the province.

They're going to hit us from all sides... This is bad.

The captain barked at Mikhailis again, gesturing for him to move. He nodded, shuffling away from the chamber, his mind racing. He needed to get this information back to Elowen and the others, needed to warn them about what was coming. But first, he had to figure out how to get out of here alive.

The captain led him down another tunnel, this one narrower and darker than the others. The air was colder here, the smell of damp earth replaced by something metallic and sour. The tunnel opened up into a smaller chamber, and Mikhailis felt his stomach drop.

Cells.

Rows of crude, makeshift cells carved into the rock, each one holding a prisoner. Humans, elves, even a halfling—all bound, their faces gaunt, their eyes hollow. They looked up as the goblins entered, their expressions a mix of fear and hopelessness. Mikhailis felt a pang of sympathy, his heart clenching at the sight.

Wait.

E-Elves!!!

This is the first time I saw elves directly!!

They're keeping prisoners... Why? ah...

Mikhailis immediately understand when he saw the disgusting fluid all over the floor.

It's easy to geuss.

They are here for breeding purpose of the goblins.

The captain barked another order, and the goblins spread out, checking the cells, making sure the prisoners were secure. Mikhailis moved along with them, his eyes scanning the faces of the captives. Most of them looked away, too beaten down to care about another goblin. But one of them—a young elven woman—met his gaze, her eyes narrowing slightly.

She stared at him, her brow furrowing as if trying to figure something out. Mikhailis felt a chill run down his spine.

This elf...

She knows... She knows I don't belong.

He quickly looked away, trying to appear disinterested, but he could feel her eyes on him, watching. He moved closer to her cell, pretending to check the lock, his mind racing. He needed to communicate with her, to let her know he wasn't really one of them. But how? Stay updated via empire

He glanced around, making sure none of the other goblins were paying attention. Slowly, he raised his hand, making a subtle gesture—a simple sign that he hoped she would understand. Her eyes widened slightly, her gaze flicking to the other goblins before returning to him. She gave the smallest of nods, her expression cautious but curious.

Good. She understands.

Mikhailis swallowed hard, his heart pounding. He needed to find a way to help her, to help all of them. But for now, he had to play his part, had to keep pretending to be one of the goblins. He moved away from her cell, joining the others as they finished their inspection. The captain grunted in satisfaction, gesturing for them to leave the chamber.

As they moved back into the tunnels, Mikhailis cast one last glance at the elven woman. She was still watching him, her eyes filled with a mix of hope and fear. He gave her the smallest of nods, a silent promise that he would do whatever he could to help.

I'll get you out of here. I swear it.

But first, he had to survive. He had to find a way back to his own body, had to get this information to Elowen and the others. The goblins were planning something big, something that could bring the entire Northern Province to its knees. And Mikhailis was the only one who knew.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself as they moved deeper into the tunnels. He had to stay focused, had to stay sharp. The fate of the province depended on it.