The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

The royal estate pulsed with energy, its sprawling courtyards and arched corridors alive with the steady drumbeat of hurried footsteps and raised voices. Courtiers dashed back and forth between the great hall and the west wing garden pavilions, carrying bolts of shimmering cloth in their arms, while attendants balanced trays laden with rare desserts glistening under the morning sun. A sweet yet tangy concoction of scents—citrus-glazed game meats, lavender blossoms, fresh dew still clinging to the roses—filled the air, signaling that both the royal banquet and the Festival Market Showcase drew inexorably closer. Where an ordinary morning might carry a subtle buzz of routine preparations, today felt like a crescendo of anticipation.

At the heart of this controlled chaos stood a greenhouse workshop, partially veiled by a dense curtain of ivy and shielded by faintly shimmering arcane barriers. Inside, the light was filtered through stained glass panels, giving the space an otherworldly glow—a blend of nature's serenity and magical undertones. Beneath an elegantly curved glass dome, Mikhailis knelt beside a rune-carved workbench, legs crossed in a casual posture that belied the intricate precision of his craft. His usually pristine sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing faint traces of alchemical burn marks and ink smudges along his forearms. Around him lay a chaotic sprawl of tools: quills with metallic tips, half-empty vials of luminescent liquids, and small chisels etched with runes. They looked less like modern instruments and more like relics of a forgotten era.

He pressed a hand to the back of his neck, attempting to massage away the tension that had settled there after hours of hovering over enchantment seals and measuring ephemeral energies. A violet-hued sigil, glowing faintly, rotated in mid-air just above the table. Each rotation traced faint arcs of light onto the surface. Mikhailis narrowed his eyes, studying the sway of the sigil as if searching for any flicker of instability.

"That one looks stable," he said finally, though the note of caution in his voice betrayed the relief he felt at not having to start from scratch.

Estella—her dark hair gathered into a loose, practical braid—leaned over his shoulder to examine the hovering seal more closely. A single strand escaped its confines, brushing against her cheek as she scrutinized the rotating emblem. "The shimmer frequency is in equilibrium," she observed. "We just need to anchor it for mana surge resistance. If someone with high magical resonance applies this incorrectly, we don't want them walking around with an arcane meltdown on their face."

Mikhailis responded with a slow, deliberate nod. At times like this, when the stakes of their seemingly whimsical creations were laid bare, he felt the dual pressures of artistry and accountability. With a quick snap of his fingers, he signaled Rodion's presence. The AI's intangible voice cut through Mikhailis's mind with a crisp efficiency that he both appreciated and found mildly irritating.

<Stabilization matrix accepted. Composing enchantment loop using Glowcap derivative integration... Warning: Integration efficiency 86%. Potential volatile interaction with raw mana sources still not fully mapped.>

Mikhailis let out a soft sigh. "You mean it might blow someone's face up?"

<Unlikely. Mild irritation or cosmetic instability are more probable. However, Glowcap interaction with residual mana may draw the Arcane Guild's scrutiny.>

A wry smile tugged at Mikhailis's lips. It never failed to amuse him how even something as mundane as makeup could become a topic of high magical intrigue. "Of course," he muttered. "Even our makeup's too interesting for them to ignore."

Estella's hands continued moving with mechanical precision, layering the specially prepared shimmer powder into a nearly transparent disc. "We'll deal with them if it comes to that," she said briskly, pressing a thin layer of wax over the top to seal the enchantment. Her posture spoke of focus, but there was tension in her jaw—she was fully aware of how delicate the balance was. "Let's just get through today without any alchemical mishaps."

Mikhailis was about to respond when three sharp knocks rang out against the greenhouse's glass doors. The sound cut through the ambient hum of enchantments like a clarion call. Turning, Mikhailis saw Rhea, clad in fitted guard attire, slide the doors open. A swirl of fresh morning air entered the workshop, stirring the faint scent of fertilizers and arcane essences.

"You both need to come outside," Rhea said, tone clipped. She offered a brief, respectful bow before straightening. "Now."

Mikhailis exchanged a glance with Estella. "Problem?"

Rhea's mouth tightened. She hesitated for a split second, clearly searching for the right words to convey what she'd witnessed. "More like a parade," she said at last, an odd mix of annoyance and amusement tinging her voice.

At that, Mikhailis and Estella pushed themselves to their feet, tucking away any loose materials. The greenhouse door swung shut behind them, sealing the arcane glow within. Outside, the day was vibrant, the sun halfway to its zenith, casting the estate in a warm gleam. The neat rows of horticultural wonders on either side of the greenhouse looked almost untouched—yet the commotion further ahead told another story.

The atmosphere changed the moment they stepped out from the sheltered canopy. Where earlier the courtyard had been filled with orderly preparation, it was now a cacophony of voices and movement. A cluster of noblewomen, clad in embroidered silks that shimmered each time they turned, had gathered around the outer pavilion. Their chattering rose in volume, like a sudden flock of exotic birds taking flight. In the middle of this swirling mass were attendants in partial states of dress—some missing their formal jackets, others with their hair half-finished—each one scrambling to manage scrolls of color samples, half-filled jars of testers, or polished mirrors meant for product demonstrations.

"What in the world…" Mikhailis murmured. He felt a brief thrill of surprise, followed by an inkling of concern. This was an environment that could explode from mild curiosity to full-blown chaos at the slightest provocation.

"Did we open early?" he asked, but even as the words left his lips, he suspected the answer.

Estella's eyes widened in realization. Her grip tightened around the sample disc in her hand. "They came early," she said, glancing around with the quick, appraising stare of someone assessing a battlefield. "Apparently, word of mouth spread like wildfire from the banquet pre-reception. They're demanding 'emergency consultations.'"

Rodion's smug mental tone chimed in at once: <Market response exceeds projections by 312%. Congratulations. Also, I hate to say I told you so, but I did.>

Mikhailis could practically imagine the AI's digital smirk, though he didn't have time to comment on it. Estella had already switched gears, her posture straightening as she strode forward. This was a woman in command—less a meek courtier, more a commander on the front lines of a sudden assault.

"Rhea," Estella barked, scanning the chaotic scene for her. "We're setting up the stand now—improvised mode. I need the collapsible mirror, four enchanted trays, and the shade crystals. Tell Lira to keep them from breaking the table with their enthusiasm."

Rhea acknowledged the rapid instructions with a curt nod and vanished into the swirl of roving fabric and fluttering fans. Despite the mania, there was a certain efficiency to how each person responded. It reminded Mikhailis of a well-rehearsed dance—albeit one performed unexpectedly early. Some attendants grabbed what looked like metal brackets and wooden panels; others hauled in large mirror frames that glistened with faint runic etchings around the edges.

In the span of mere minutes, Estella orchestrated an entire transformation. Panels unfolded like blossoming flowers, aligning neatly into a polished booth with velvet drapes. Enchanted mirrors flickered into shape, their surfaces catching and refracting the morning light in dazzling patterns. Shimmering light panels were quickly mounted at strategic angles, ensuring that any prospective customer—be it a noble lady or an advisor—would see the exact reflection they desired: crisp, bright, and undeniably flattering.

Mikhailis found himself lingering on the periphery, partly to avoid interfering and partly because he was genuinely impressed. Estella navigated the hastily formed crowd with a calm authority that seemed to radiate from her. Her voice was measured yet firm as she gave directions, ensuring everyone had a role and a place. It struck him that her usual grace and sharp intellect had seamlessly merged into something akin to battlefield leadership.

A wave of pride, coupled with a sliver of awe, coursed through him. Damn. She's really got this. The phrase echoed in his mind as he watched her clip a shimmering panel into place, then turn to calm a frantic assistant who was nearly in tears over a misplaced powder box. Estella offered a soothing word, took the assistant's trembling hand, and within seconds, the assistant's composure was restored. It was a masterclass in management and empathy all at once.

Somewhere in the swirl, Mikhailis caught sight of a few curious onlookers—likely lesser nobles or well-to-do merchants—edging closer to see what all the fuss was about. Already, he could hear snippets of conversation about "arcane blush," "magical lip enhancers," and "next-level illusions." The Festival Market Showcase, originally intended to launch later, was effectively beginning right here in the courtyard, hours ahead of schedule. Mikhailis felt a surge of adrenaline. If they could keep this momentum, the official reveal might become a mere formality, overshadowed by the buzz building here.

He inhaled, absorbing the swirl of perfumes in the air—floral, citrus, and something faintly resinous from an incense burner hidden around the corner. Over the general din, one could pick up excited chatter:

"Do you see how that mirror is glowing? My face looks positively radiant!"