The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

Mikhailis trudged back into the goblin fortress, his body aching and bruised all over from the intense battle with Vyrelda. His joints felt stiff, his muscles throbbed with every step, and his armor had more dents than he cared to count. He held his head high, though, his eyes scanning the fort with a feigned confidence that belied the exhaustion weighing him down.

The goblin warriors that crowded the pathway into the fortress took one look at his beaten-up condition and moved aside, making way for him. Some of them grunted in what sounded like approval. In the goblin culture, bruises and signs of exhaustion were seen as marks of bravery. It didn't matter to them that Mikhailis had ordered a retreat; in their eyes, he had fought and survived, and that was worthy of respect.

Mikhailis couldn't help but feel a strange mix of emotions at the sight of the goblins stepping aside. Part of him wanted to laugh at the irony—a human prince, now in a goblin body, being hailed as some kind of hero by goblins of all things. Another part of him, however, felt... a bit proud. He'd fought Vyrelda and lived. That was no small feat, even if it had been a close call.

Even though he is fighting for the wrong faction, but it's all for his own survival.

At least I didn't embarrass myself too much, he thought, a wry smile pulling at his lips.

Just as he was about to reach his quarters, a large figure stepped into his path, and Mikhailis found himself face-to-face with a Goblin Champion. The Champion was taller, broader, and meaner-looking than the regular goblins. His eyes were sharp, and they scanned Mikhailis up and down, suspicion clear in his expression.

"You... speak too good," the Champion grunted, his voice carrying a hint of distrust. He crossed his thick arms, his brow furrowed as he studied Mikhailis.

"Not goblin-like. Why talk like... human?"

Mikhailis felt his heart skip a beat, a jolt of panic running through him.

Damn it, he thought, I've been too comfortable talking like myself.

He quickly shifted gears, forcing a dopey grin onto his face as he exaggerated his posture.

"Me... talk like... goblin," Mikhailis said, his voice louder, his words clumsier. He even scratched the side of his head, trying to look as clueless as possible.

"Me... fight... strong human lady. Hurt... lot. Me... tired."

The Goblin Champion eyed him for a moment longer, his gaze searching. Mikhailis could feel the sweat gathering at the back of his neck. The seconds seemed to stretch endlessly, the Champion's eyes narrowing as if trying to see through him.

Finally, the Champion grunted, giving a small nod.

"Good. You... rest." With that, he stepped aside, allowing Mikhailis to pass.

Mikhailis had to suppress the sigh of relief that threatened to escape him. He gave a sloppy nod, muttering, "Yes... rest... now," before hurrying past the Champion.

He didn't look back, not wanting to risk giving anything away. The tension left his body as soon as he rounded a corner, and he let out a quiet breath.

That was way too close, he thought, shaking his head.

Gotta remember to play the part. Can't let my guard down.

He made his way through the fortress, each step feeling heavier than the last. The fatigue was overwhelming now, both from the physical exertion of the fight and the mental strain of keeping up his act. His quarters—a small, dimly lit room with little more than a mat and a few blankets—felt like a haven at that moment. He stumbled inside, letting the door close behind him before collapsing onto the mat.

"Finally," he muttered, letting his head fall back.

"Rest."

But just as he was about to close his eyes, a faint, distorted noise reached his ears. Mikhailis blinked, lifting his head slightly. He frowned, straining to hear. It was a voice—a familiar voice. His heart skipped a beat as recognition hit him.

Rodion?

He sat up, holding his breath, his eyes darting around the room. The voice came again, clearer this time.

<...Mikhailis...>

Mikhailis gasped, his eyes widening. He looked down at his wrist, his gaze locking onto the tattoos that now covered his arm—intricate, dark lines that twisted around his skin. They were glowing faintly, and he felt a rush of emotion.

"There you are!" he whispered, a grin spreading across his face.

"It's been one hell of a ride without you, Rodion!"

The voice in his head became clearer, more distinct, and Mikhailis could almost picture Rodion's exasperated expression—if he had one.

<It seems you are faring quite well, Mikhailis. Your current form is detected as a variant hobgoblin. Probability of this being part of a strategic decision is negligible. However, the entertainment level is... quite high.>

Mikhailis let out a laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah, yeah, I know. But hey, you have to admit, it's a creative way to stay undercover."

<Creativity level assessed: questionable. Queen Elowen's emotional state: likely concern, though I'd call it amusing.>

Mikhailis paused, his smile fading slightly.

"Elowen... she knows?"

<Queen Elowen has been notified of the magical disturbance. Status update: your human body is in a coma, guarded by Lira in the northern province—proximity: constant.>

Mikhailis felt a pang of guilt at the thought of Lira, always so protective of him. He took a deep breath, nodding.

"And the Queen? How is she holding up?"

<Queen Elowen is handling kingdom management while showing notable concern for her husband who's in a goblin form.>

Mikhailis sighed, leaning back against the wall.

"Yeah, I can imagine. It must be a lot to handle." He glanced at the glowing tattoos on his wrist, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"But it's good to have you back, Rodion. I've missed having someone to talk to who isn't... well, a goblin."

<It seems you're quite troubled>

"You have no idea," he said, shaking his head.

"So, what do we do now?"

<Currently, I have full access to the senses and information of the goblin you're inhabiting, previously under Hypnoveil's influence. Thanks to the connection between Hypnoveil, the Chimera Queen, and myself, I can see and hear everything you do.>

Mikhailis raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

"Really? So you've got eyes and ears here in the goblin fortress?"

<Indeed. And believe me, there's quite a lot to process.>

Mikhailis grinned.

"Alright, lay it on me."

There was a pause, and then Rodion began to speak again, his voice carrying a tone of satisfaction.

<The information you relayed through Hypnoveil has proven invaluable. Thanks to your efforts, the humans have gained a significant advantage in the ongoing battle at the northern front. Queen Elowen's forces have been able to predict goblin movements, set traps, and gain the upper hand. The goblins are on the defensive, and morale is low.>

Mikhailis couldn't help the smile that spread across his face.

"That's good to hear. At least my time here hasn't been for nothing."

<Far from it. Your actions have been instrumental in turning the tide. The information you gathered about the goblins' strategies and their reliance on dark magic has given the humans the edge they needed.> Discover exclusive tales on empire

Mikhailis nodded, a sense of pride swelling in his chest.

Maybe I'm actually making a difference, he thought, his smile softening.

"It's not over yet, though. We still have a lot of work to do."

<Precisely. Which is why we can't waste any time.>

Rodion's voice held a note of urgency, and Mikhailis could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on him once more.

He took a deep breath, nodding.

"You're right. We need to strike while the iron is hot."

Mikhailis stood, his body protesting the movement, but he ignored the pain. He had a purpose now, a goal. He moved quietly through the fortress, avoiding the wandering goblins as he made his way to a secluded part of the base—an old storeroom that was rarely visited. The room was small and dimly lit, filled with old crates and broken supplies. It was perfect for what he needed.

He closed the door behind him, taking a seat on one of the crates. He reached into his makeshift bag and pulled out a parchment, spreading it on the floor. The map of the goblin base was crude.

"Now here we go,"