The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort-Chapter 437: Going Back to Silvarion Thalor (3)

"You'll have to beat her majesty Elowen to it," Lira said, her tone cool and composed.

A few knights chuckled quietly at Cerys's blunt declaration, their amusement mingling with the soft footfalls of mounts advancing through the woods. The gentle rustle of leaves overhead seemed to echo the mood—one of relaxed camaraderie laced with the lingering thrill of earlier banter. Sunbeams flickered through the canopy, painting shifting patterns of light across the procession. Somewhere deeper in the forest, a bird called out with a lilting note, as if urging them forward.

Mikhailis nudged Bob onward, and the creature took a playful leap over a shallow ditch that cut across the road. For just a second, the glider-lizard-elk hybrid stretched its odd wings, gliding a mere few feet with a high-pitched squeak that sounded suspiciously like glee. Mikhailis grinned, momentarily forgetting the dull ache in his thighs. He thought to himself that Bob clearly enjoyed these little spurts of ridiculousness—perhaps it was the beast's own version of showmanship.

Morning rolled on, the sun inching higher until its rays dappled the forest floor in soft gold. The knights rode in pairs or small clusters, exchanging conversation or scanning the undergrowth. Vyrelda remained near the front, ever watchful, while Elowen and Mikhailis hovered at the center, quietly discussing the next stages of their journey. The hush of nature around them—gentle birdcalls, an occasional breeze rippling through cloaks—offered a welcome change from the formalities of Serewyn's castle.

Soon, Rodion's measured voice chimed in Mikhailis's ear, directing attention to a suitable stopping point.

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<Stream detected. Clean. Shaded. No hostile signatures within 1.2 kilometers. Suggesting lunch.>

A small smile touched Mikhailis's lips. "Excellent," he muttered under his breath. "Finally, a command from Rodion I don't want to argue with." He cast Elowen a playful look, and she returned it with a knowing nod.

"Then let's eat," Elowen said, guiding her mare in a gentle arc toward a small glade that opened up just ahead. Light filtered through the leaves as if nature itself welcomed them. "Even revolutionaries need rice." She directed a teasing glance at Bob, who rumbled in response.

They veered off the main path, the entourage forming a controlled but relaxed line behind. As soon as they cleared a slight rise, the scent of fresh water reached them—a cool stream meandering through moss-lined banks, pebbles gleaming beneath the surface. Mikhailis closed his eyes briefly, savoring that crisp, earthy aroma that reminded him of quieter times in Silvarion Thalor's forests. This break in the march was a chance to reset, but also a chance to revel in how close they'd all become—a makeshift family of knights, maids, and an AI that never hesitated to critique.

The glade itself lay bathed in dappled sunlight, each patch of grass glowing like a secret treasure in the forest's hush. Tall oaks, their leaves speckled with morning dew, swayed gently around them, the breeze carrying a faint hush. Soldiers slipped from their saddles, their boots pressing into soft earth with quiet thuds. Without orders, they naturally fell into a practiced formation around the clearing—ever protective, but not intruding on the easy atmosphere of a midday rest.

Mikhailis dismounted with exaggerated flair, almost stumbling as his feet hit the ground. "My legs are pretending they don't know how to walk anymore," he announced loudly, eliciting a few snickers from nearby knights. He felt a slight wobble in his knees, half from Bob's unusual gait and half from plain old stiffness.

Bob let out a triumphant snort, as if agreeing that the journey had been tedious. Then, with zero regard for dignity, the creature ambled straight into the stream. A moment later, it flopped down with a mighty splash, sending water spraying across Mikhailis's lower legs. He let out a yelp, stumbling backward to avoid getting drenched from the knees up, but to no avail. Cold water soaked his pants, and he saw at least two knights stifling chuckles behind raised gauntlets.

Elowen slipped off Aralis's saddle with more grace—her boots landing on the grass so quietly that Mikhailis thought it was an illusion. The sunlight caught her hair, those silver strands glowing like spun moonlight even under the bright day. "You picked the only mount that's also a bathtub," she teased, amusement dancing in her eyes.

"I call it multitasking," Mikhailis grumbled, shaking out one soaked boot. A small torrent of water and twigs pattered onto the ground. "He's efficient." Bob raised his head from the stream, blinking innocently, a trail of water dripping from its elongated muzzle.

Nearby, Lira had already laid out a neat cloth on a large, flat stone that served as an impromptu table. Her posture never faltered—each movement carried a deliberate grace. With an almost feline elegance, she placed small containers of food along the cloth, glancing over her shoulder at Mikhailis. "Efficient in making you ridiculous," she observed, voice calm and unshaken by the scene.

Mikhailis brushed damp hair from his forehead, letting out a dismissive snort. "Then he's learned from the best," he said with a wink, feigning arrogance. He heard a grunt that might have been Bob's agreement, or maybe just the creature's hunger.

The knights who'd been trailing them began to settle in the clearing. Some removed helmets and masks, letting the breeze cool their faces. Others bent to loosen their horses' girths, giving the animals a chance to breathe. A few, apparently well-practiced at setting up midday rests, quickly scouted the stream's edge for good water points. In moments, the tranquil glade was alive with the soft shuffle of men and women preparing a casual meal.

Elowen guided Aralis a little distance away, removing the horse's bridle and letting the mare snuffle at a patch of clover. She ran gentle fingers through the horse's silken mane, her expression serene. Mikhailis watched her fondly. He remembered when such tasks were performed by attendants—back when Elowen rarely had a chance to do something so everyday and personal. Now, she seemed to cherish these small freedoms, exactly the sort he wished she could have more of in their life as queen and consort.

Vyrelda and Cerys exchanged a few hushed words near the perimeter, scanning the trees. Though they seemed relaxed, Mikhailis knew it was second nature for them to remain vigilant. The glade was peaceful, but the memory of Serewyn's earlier crises still lingered in everyone's minds. Peace was precious, yet never taken for granted.

Bob, apparently finished with his watery sprawl, lumbered onto the bank and gave himself a hearty shake, scattering droplets onto any unfortunate bystander. Mikhailis swatted at the spray, grumbling under his breath, "Someone needs a thorough brushing tonight, and it's not me."

A couple of knights rummaged in their saddlebags, producing small metal plates and cups. One started building a small cooking fire with the skill of a person who'd done this a thousand times. Another knight approached Lira with a basket of vegetables, wordlessly offering to help prepare them. She accepted the gesture with a nod, handing over a small knife. Together, they began chopping roots and herbs, the fresh scents mingling with the earthy aroma of the stream.

Mikhailis caught Elowen's eye from across the clearing, and she flashed a gentle smile, one that reached into him deeper than any formal praise or ceremony. He made his way over to her, each step squishing slightly in his damp boots, earning him a smirk from a passing soldier. He ignored it, focusing on the swirl of calm that hovered between him and Elowen. Yes, they were traveling with an entourage of knights and staff, but for these few moments, it felt as though they inhabited a quieter world.

Elowen pointed at his soaked pant legs, arching a playful brow. "You look like you stepped through a waterfall," she teased.

He sighed dramatically, spreading his arms. "I had no choice. My lovely mount decided it was spa day."

She laughed under her breath, placing a hand on his arm. "We're lucky it's a warm day." Then she turned serious for a moment, gaze softening. "It's good to see you like this—relaxed, joking. Sometimes the burden we both carry feels so… heavy."

Mikhailis let her words settle. Indeed, the weight of their roles had been pressing on them for as long as he could recall. "We have to treasure these breaks," he murmured. "They remind us why we fight so hard for normalcy back home."

Across the clearing, Lira beckoned them toward the makeshift spread on the stone, where she and a few knights had laid out rations and freshly cut vegetables. A small pot hung over the modest fire, already simmering with something that smelled both savory and comforting. Mikhailis gave Elowen a nod and they walked over together, seats forming from upturned logs and saddle blankets. The soldiers parted, allowing the queen and consort to sit without fuss, though they remained close enough to intervene if needed.

Mikhailis plopped down, ignoring how water still squelched in his boots, and happily accepted a bowl of steaming stew. The warmth of it in his hands felt like a benediction. Elowen lowered herself more gracefully, cloak fanning around her, and Lira handed her a smaller dish. A hush of contentment settled as they all began to eat. People spoke in murmured tones, their voices weaving in and out of the forest's quiet lullaby. Now and again, the stream's gentle babble punctuated the stillness, a harmonious undertone to their communal meal.

Vyrelda approached with a second pot of tea, the aroma suggesting a mild herbal blend. She didn't say much, only refilled cups with the calm efficiency that characterized her. From time to time, she threw a hawklike glance at the treeline, ensuring no threat lingered. Cerys leaned against the trunk of a sturdy oak, cradling her own dish, expression even more neutral than usual. But Mikhailis caught a quick spark of amusement in her eyes when Bob let out a squeaky snore from where he'd dozed off near the stream.

As everyone settled, the next bit of conversation meandered across small topics—some knights mentioned families left at home, Lira commented about new techniques she'd read regarding stealth approach, and a couple of them teased Mikhailis about the bizarre potions he carried. He took their jokes in stride, acknowledging that yes, a flamboyant traveling alchemist was exactly who he was.

Elowen ate slowly, occasionally pausing to glance around the glade, a slight furrow creasing her brow. Mikhailis guessed she was thinking about upcoming responsibilities, diplomatic chores, or the ongoing efforts in Serewyn. But each time their eyes met, she offered him a small, reassuring tilt of her lips, as if to say, We're here now. Let's be present.

At some point, Lira made a droll remark about how easily the entire group relaxed. "If we get attacked, you'll all be too stuffed to fight," she quipped, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Mikhailis just rolled his eyes, content with the idea that not every moment had to be on high alert, even if Lira's caution was probably wise.

Through it all, the bright midmorning sun threaded its way through the leaves, adding a lazy, comforting warmth. A gentle breeze carried the scent of damp wood and freshly cut greenery. The tension in Mikhailis's shoulders loosened with each breath, and he found himself wishing for more days like this—days where the biggest challenge was coaxing Bob out of a stream or deciding which spice to add to the stew.

Leaning back on his elbows, Mikhailis cast a final glance at the line of knights finishing their meal. Lira and Cerys shared a brief exchange, their words too quiet for him to catch. He noticed the corners of Cerys's mouth twitch, a subtle sign that Lira's wit had found its mark. Meanwhile, Elowen gently placed her empty bowl aside, then rose to stretch. The gleam of steel from her traveling cloak's clasp caught a stray sunbeam, momentarily flashing bright. Mikhailis found it oddly poetic—like a reminder that while this was peace, they were still wanderers, still defenders of their realm.

He smiled to himself and turned his attention back to Bob, dozing comfortably. So they traveled as allies, partners… as something more akin to family. Not tied by blood, but by choice and shared purpose. It was a thought that sparked a curious warmth in his chest, more fulfilling than any title or official ceremony.

He locked eyes with Lira for a brief moment. She lifted her brow, her expression quietly challenging him, maybe expecting another comedic statement. Instead, he just gave her a grin—soft around the edges, sincere. She looked away, but her lips twitched as if fighting a small smile.

Picking up his bowl, Mikhailis rose with a theatrical sigh. Another meal finished, another step of the journey waiting. "Then he's learned from the best," he said with a wink, patting Bob's flank in solidarity as the creature let out a snuffling snore in response.