CHAPTER 96: Northern Wall (Part 4)

The Pale Serpent

Baldur lowered the chicken bone in his hand and stared at her.

“You are late, Amethyst.”

The dining hall did not breathe.

The woman in the dark green dress stood beneath the open doors with a smile that did not belong to any battlefield and yet felt more dangerous than most weapons carried in the hall. Her white hair fell over her shoulders like moonlight poured over silk. The jewels on her ears and throat glittered with layered enchantments, each gem humming faintly beneath the eyes of those sensitive enough to feel mana. Her glasses caught the firelight, briefly hiding the sharpness of her gaze, while the serpent coiled around her arm and shoulder as if the hall, the Marquis, the mercenaries, and the northern lords were all too uninteresting to notice.

Then its eyes opened.

Several lesser nobles stiffened without understanding why. The serpent’s gaze was not large, but it carried a strange pull, like a whisper wrapped in scales. One servant nearly stepped forward before another caught his sleeve. A young knight at the side of the hall lowered his eyes instinctively, sweat forming beneath his hairline despite the cold stone around them.

Amethyst’s smile deepened.

“I actually arrived earlier than scheduled,” she said, voice smooth enough to make an insult sound like courtesy. “Then I smelled your presence, Baldur.”

Baldur returned to eating.

He tore another piece from the chicken as if the Enchantress of the Arcane Kingdom had not just entered the hall with enough presence to bend the air. “My smell brought you faster? I should charge the King for travel assistance.”

Amethyst’s eyes narrowed with amusement. “Still vulgar.”

“Still alive.”

“That is your only charm.”

“My axe disagrees.”

A lesser lord sitting three seats away from Simmon suddenly stood.

He did so smoothly, without being addressed and without looking at Amethyst directly. His chair slid back with a soft scrape. He lowered his head, stepped aside, and gave up his seat as if it had been his intention all along. Only when he stood behind the chair did confusion enter his face, but by then Amethyst was already walking forward.

No one commented.

Not because they missed it.

Because everyone who understood her title knew better than to make a scene over a harmless demonstration. The Enchantress did not need to raise her wand to remind a room that it could be touched, bent, and dressed as courtesy before the mind noticed its own movement.

She sat in the offered seat with elegant ease.

The serpent shifted from her shoulder to the back of the chair, then circled lazily around one carved post. Its scales reflected green-black beneath the lamps. Its tongue flicked once toward the table where Baldur’s elite group sat.

Baldur glanced sideways.

“Lira.”

The support mage immediately lowered her gaze to her plate. “I know.”

“Do not look at the serpent’s eyes. She loves teasing mages more than knights or nobles.”

Lira kept eating with mechanical calm. “I will not look.”

Amethyst laughed softly. “You make me sound cruel.”

“You are.”

“Only when bored.”

“That means always.”

Altea leaned back slightly, one hand resting near the chakram at her waist. Rico grinned into his cup, while Reign stared at his food as though it contained the entire meaning of life. Udoff did not bother hiding his discomfort and turned his chair half an inch away from the serpent. Shan was nowhere visible, though his presence remained somewhere near the wall, refusing to be caught by the lamps.

Simmon looked at Amethyst without lowering his eyes.

Unlike the lesser lord, he did not offer his seat, his attention, or his will. The Marquis of the North sat like a man carved from winter stone, measuring the woman before him not by appearance but by battlefield value, royal trust, and danger to his own command structure.

“You used enchantment inside my hall,” Simmon said.

Amethyst turned her smile toward him. “A harmless one.”

“Harmless tricks become habits.”

“Then you are stricter than most lords.”

“I protect a wall. I do not entertain habits that weaken command.”

For the first time since entering, Amethyst’s expression shifted into something close to approval. She lifted one gloved hand and touched the serpent lightly beneath its jaw.

“Respect can only be earned by a lord who knows how to use authority properly,” she said. “Seeing Baldur eating quietly at your table already told me your presence was not ordinary either. He does not sit comfortably beside useless men.”

Baldur snorted. “Do not involve me in your compliments.”

“They are more valuable with reluctant witnesses.”

Simmon accepted the courtesy without softening. “Your title makes courtesy unnecessary.”

“My title makes false courtesy common,” Amethyst replied. “I prefer choosing when to give the real kind.”

The hall remained quiet.

Northern lords were not as sensitive as central nobles. They did not gasp over impropriety or chase every slight until politics became theatre. But even they understood that the woman before them could be more dangerous than a battalion if offended wrongly. She was Amethyst, the Enchantress of the Arcane Kingdom, an eighth-circle mage of the royal faction, a woman whose youthful face had fooled only the suicidal and the inexperienced. Her arrival meant the King had not dismissed the North’s crisis. Her presence meant the monster wave would no longer be treated as a mere border disturbance.

Simmon gestured to the servants.

“Serve her.”

Amethyst looked at the food being brought and smiled. “How generous.”

“You will need strength.”

“Perhaps.”

Baldur placed the stripped bone down. “We were discussing tomorrow.”

Amethyst’s gaze slid toward him. “Yes. You said upper-mid and lower-high monsters may appear.”

“I did.”

“And you expect me to argue?”

“I expect you to make it annoying.”

“Then I must disappoint you. I agree.”

That silenced several people more effectively than any enchantment.

Hadrin leaned forward, his old fingers still resting over the notes he had taken during the battle. “You sensed it already?”

Amethyst lifted her glass but did not drink immediately. “The abnormal wavelength can be sensed from this dining hall. It clings to the air around the wall like perfume spilled over a corpse. Forced agitation, directional rage, and boundary irritation. The earlier waves were not natural. Tomorrow’s push will likely escalate.”

Lira’s spoon paused.

Altea looked toward Baldur.

Baldur only nodded once, as if confirmation bored him because he already knew it.

Simmon spoke. “Can your enchantment stabilize the wall?”

“It can support the wall,” Amethyst said. “Do not ask a spell to replace soldiers. That is how foolish lords lose both magic and men.”

“I do not ask foolish questions.”

“Then yes. I can enchant the battlefield, disrupt monster rhythm, confuse target priority, weaken coordinated charges, and reinforce defensive zones. But I am not interested in the ordinary wave.”

Rico raised his brows. “Ordinary?”

Amethyst glanced at him. “To Baldur and his children, yes. Upper-mid monsters and several lower-high monsters are unpleasant, but manageable with proper support.”

Rico looked pleased at being called Baldur’s child.

Altea looked offended.

Baldur did not deny it. “What interests you?”

Amethyst’s smile thinned.

“Something far more dangerous than the visible wave.”

The hall became still again.

She cut the answer off by turning her gaze toward Hadrin.

The old advisor stiffened.

Amethyst’s serpent lifted its head.

“Before we discuss what interests me,” she said, “let us make sure everyone in this hall understands what may arrive at the wall. Hadrin, was it?”

The advisor’s eyes narrowed. “Yes.”

“You have been recording classifications.”

“I have.”

“Then speak. Clearly.”

Mana moved.

Not violently. Not even visibly to most. A delicate thread, green and violet, passed through the space between Amethyst and Hadrin. The old mage’s posture straightened. His eyes lost none of their intelligence, but his hesitation vanished. It was not full control. It was a nudge. A removal of reluctance. A polished command placed over the tongue.

Simmon saw it.

Baldur saw it.

Neither moved.

Hadrin began speaking.

“Monster classification is divided by threat level, type, behavior, and battlefield implication. Lower-level monsters correspond roughly to initiates or weak practitioners among humans. Village militia can handle them with losses, but unprepared civilians suffer heavily. Goblins, ordinary orcs, dire wolves, and lower golems fall under this layer. Individually, they are not disaster-class threats. In numbers, they can overwhelm roads, farms, and poorly guarded settlements.”

The clerks near the wall looked to Simmon.

The Marquis lifted one finger.

They began writing immediately.

Hadrin continued, voice steady and formal. “Mid-level monsters correspond to practitioners or advanced fighters. They require trained knights or mages. Ent trees, lizardmen, spiderlings, lower wyverns, and centaurs belong here. These are the monsters that threaten towns, caravans, and low-ranking noble soldiers if encountered without preparation.”

Amethyst rested her chin lightly on the back of her hand.

The serpent watched the clerks write.

“Upper-mid level monsters correspond to advanced practitioners or early master-level human threats,” Hadrin said. “A normal barony cannot handle them without elite soldiers. Hobgoblin captains are smarter goblin commanders capable of organizing raids. Orc berserkers possess rage-based strength similar to crude aura. Ogre brutes carry immense endurance and destructive force. Alpha dire wolves lead packs with greater speed and hunting intelligence. Stonehide golems are upgraded constructs with reinforced shells. Venom brood spiders carry paralytic venom. Ironbark Ents possess hardened bark and stronger root control. Marsh lizard champions fight with bone armor and spear formations. Young wyverns exceed lower wyverns in aerial power. Centaur reavers coordinate charges and ranged pressure.”

Rico rolled his shoulders. “Tomorrow sounds busy.”

Lira quietly wrote the names down beside her own notes.

Hadrin’s voice deepened. “Lower-high-level monsters correspond to master-level threats. They can destroy fortified villages and threaten minor noble territories. Normal knight squads may fail against them. Ogre warlords are intelligent enough to command smaller monsters. Troll regenerators recover unless burned, sealed, or destroyed beyond regeneration. Basilisk crawlers possess a petrifying gaze, poisonous breath, and armored scales. Greater wyverns can destroy watchtowers. Iron golems resist normal weapons. Bloodroot treants drain blood and mana through roots. Thunderhorn minotaurs break defensive lines with charge attacks. Grave wargs combine undead endurance with wolf-pack intelligence. Abyssal boars can destroy farmland and fortifications through sheer mass. Blackscale lizard lords command primitive magic-resistant lizardmen forces.”

The atmosphere in the hall worsened with every name.

These were not monsters soldiers could dismiss as wall fodder. Each one required planning, specialists, or heavy loss. The idea that several might appear together after two exhausting waves made even the northern lords sit straighter.

Hadrin continued as if unable to stop until the structure was complete.

“High-level monsters are regional disasters. A county or marquisate cannot ignore them. They require strategy, elite units, Magi-Tech-equivalent weaponry, tower support, or named combatants. Frostback behemoths possess ice-armored hides. Ancient war trolls have extreme regeneration and battle memory. Storm wyvern matriarchs control lower wyverns and storm currents. Obsidian golems resist essence magic. Deathmantis sovereigns use camouflage and scythe limbs. Elder treants of rot spread disease through roots. Bone knight commanders lead undead forces with an aura-like sword intent. Ashen chimeras combine multiple beast traits. Abyss hound packlords hunt by mana scent. Crystalback hydras possess multiple heads and crystal armor.”

The royal soldiers assigned to accompany Amethyst exchanged stiff glances near the doorway.

Baldur leaned back and drank wine as if listening to a menu.

Hadrin went on.

“Upper-high-level monsters threaten whole regions. Royal armies or Magic Towers may be required. Ancient frost drakes sleep beneath northern ridges. Colossus golems rise like moving towers from forgotten ruins. Eclipse wyvern kings can darken the sky with nest-commanding power. Dreadroot world-treants spread roots across miles. Abyssal minotaur lords rule labyrinths with demonic strength. Corpse titans form from masses of dead bodies. Voidscale basilisks distort mana while petrifying and poisoning enemies. Stormhide mammoth kings can break fortress walls. Black chimera regents adapt through multiple cores. Grave wyvern emperors are undead draconic rulers born from corrupted bones.”

Marian would have filled several pages if she had been present. In Frosthelm, the clerks did the same, their faces paling as their pens moved.

Hadrin’s pupils remained steady, but his voice took on a heavier weight. “Mid-boss level monsters are not merely strong. They are commanders, territory rulers, or guardian-class threats. Goblin kings command warrens. Orc tyrants lead warbands. Broodmother Arachne controls spider swarms and venom brood spiders. Ironroot elder treants guard corrupted groves. Wyvern nest queens control lower wyverns, young wyverns, and greater wyverns. Centaur war-chiefs lead raiders with military coordination. Stoneheart golem guardians protect ancient underground ruins. Blackscale lizard kings command swamp tribes. Bone generals lead undead soldiers and grave wargs. Abyss-touched ogre monarchs command corrupted giantkin.”

The serpent around Amethyst’s chair hissed softly, as if amused by the rising tension.

Hadrin finished with the final layer.

“Boss-level monsters belong to history, ancient ruins, forbidden magic, continent-level secrets, or major calamities. The Lich of the Obsidian Tower. Ancient Mana Dragon. Worldroot Leviathan. Titan-Class Arc Golem. Abyssal Monarch. Eclipse Hydra. Hollow Saint Beast. Frost Crown Drake. Black Maw Chimera. Grave Emperor. Such beings possess territory, legend, unique power, multiple battle phases, and political consequence. They are not fought casually. They are prepared for as wars.”

The silence after that was profound.

The enchantment thread faded.

Hadrin blinked once, then looked down at his own notes with a slight frown, as if only now realizing how much he had said without pause. He was not harmed. He was not humiliated. But everyone in the hall understood that Amethyst had pulled the classification from him with delicate force, then polished it through her own influence so that the structure became clearer than a tired advisor might have delivered naturally.

Simmon did not look pleased.

He also did not waste anger.

“Clerks,” he said. “Make copies. Monster classification, expected escalation, and countermeasure categories. One for the wall command. One for the mage division. One for mercenary coordination. One sealed copy for the capital.”

The clerks answered immediately.

“Yes, my lord.”

Amethyst clapped softly.

Once.

Twice.

A graceful sound, almost innocent, as if she had not used her power at all.

“How efficient,” she said.

Baldur snorted. “You always did like making others do the explaining.”

“Why spend effort repeating what another mind already holds?”

“Because asking politely exists.”

“I did ask.”

“You enchanted the answer.”

“And now everyone understands. You are welcome.”

Lira still refused to look at the serpent. “I dislike her.”

“I heard that,” Amethyst said.

“I know.”

For the first time that night, Amethyst laughed with genuine delight.

Simmon did not join the humor.

He looked at the Enchantress with the full weight of the Northern Wall behind his eyes. He did not argue about her method because the information was useful, the crisis was immediate, and Hadrin was unharmed. A lesser lord might have wasted time defending dignity. Simmon defended the walls. If Amethyst’s arrogance produced clarity before the next wave, he would use it.

But he would not let her dance around the real subject.

“So,” Simmon said, voice level. “What monster piqued your interest?”