CHAPTER 97: Northern Wall (Part 5)

Higher Threat

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

Amethyst did not answer immediately.

For once, the Enchantress did not smile as if the entire hall existed for her amusement. She leaned back in the seat that had been surrendered to her, one gloved hand resting beneath her chin while the pale serpent coiled lazily around the chair behind her. The dining hall remained filled with the smell of roasted meat, warm bread, wine, and smoke from the hearths, yet the atmosphere had shifted far from celebration. The second monster wave had been cleared, but every person present understood that victory over one wave did not mean the North was safe. It only meant the next disaster had not yet arrived.

Baldur tore another piece of meat from the roasted fowl in front of him, but his eyes stayed on Amethyst.

He knew that expression.

It was not one she wore for ordinary danger. Amethyst enjoyed being dramatic, cruel, playful, and impossible to trust without conditions, but she did not become quiet unless something genuinely interesting had entered the field. Interesting, for someone like her, often meant dangerous enough to erase a lesser army.

Hadrin sat stiffly beside Simmon, still recovering his pride after Amethyst had drawn the monster classification from him with delicate enchantment. His clerks continued organizing the notes, their fingers moving quickly across parchment. Altea and Baldur’s elite group remained at the leader’s table, each of them eating more slowly now. Lira still refused to look at the serpent’s eyes. Rico pretended he was relaxed, though his gauntlets rested closer than before. Reign had stopped making jokes. Udoff’s heavy brows pressed together beneath his scars. Shan was unseen, but the faint tension near the shadows by the wall suggested he had not left.

Amethyst lifted one hand.

“No charm this time,” she said.

Simmon’s eyes narrowed. “Good.”

“How suspicious. I can explain politely when I choose.”

Baldur snorted. “Rare weather.”

Amethyst ignored him and raised two fingers.

A magic orb appeared above the table.

It began as a small violet flame, then expanded into a round, translucent sphere filled with shifting colors. Lines emerged inside it, drawing mountains, forests, coastlines, wastelands, cities, caves, and old territories with delicate precision. The hall lamps dimmed slightly as the orb brightened. The serpent around her chair lifted its head, watching the sphere as if it recognized the magic but found the audience unworthy of it.

The orb rotated slowly.

“This is the continent,” Amethyst said. “Not politically. Not by noble land, trade road, or royal district. This is the continent as monsters understand it.”

The words were strange enough to make even the northern lords lean forward.

Amethyst touched the lower portion of the orb. The southern region glowed with a muted gold and dusty red.

“The South, Valenhart’s frontier, should be tied to wastelands, ruined roads, abandoned caves, old territories, and buried structures. Its ordinary lower threats are goblins, orcs, dire wolves, and lower golems. Mid-level threats include lizardmen, spiderlings, and lower wyverns. Upper-mid threats should lean toward ogre brutes, alpha dire wolves, and stonehide golems. Lower-high threats may include troll regenerators, greater wyverns, and bloodroot treants if old territories are disturbed. High threats in the South would be things like ashen chimeras and obsidian golems. Deeper still, one may encounter a Stoneheart Golem Guardian or Wyvern Nest Queen as mid-boss threats. And if the old southern ruins are truly as ancient as some royal records suggest, then a Titan-Class Arc Golem could be buried beneath forgotten ground.”

One lesser lord shifted uneasily.

The South had once been mocked as poor, dry, and useless. Hearing that its forgotten ruins might contain something capable of becoming a historical monster threat made that mockery feel foolish.

Simmon’s face remained unreadable, but the name Valenhart did not pass through him lightly. He remembered Alistair. He remembered the quiet reports of the South’s sudden growth. Now, even the monster map seemed to suggest that neglected land could hide sleeping teeth.

Amethyst touched the upper region of the orb.

The northern ridges lit in cold blue and white.

“The North, Frosthelm, and the snow ridges should produce stronger beast and draconic monsters because of the altitude, old cold, and mountain mana concentration. Your lower monsters are frost goblins and dire wolves. Mid-level threats include ice lizardmen and lower wyverns. Upper-mid threats include alpha frost wolves and snow ogres. Lower-high threats include frost trolls and greater wyverns. High-level threats are Frostback Behemoths and Stormhide Mammoths. Upper-high danger belongs to the Ancient Frost Drake. Mid-boss danger may come from a Frost Wyvern Nest Queen. Boss-level calamity would be the Frost Crown Drake.”

The hall became colder in a way that had nothing to do with winter.

Every northern lord knew the old stories of the Frost Crown Drake. Some claimed it slept beneath the ridges. Some claimed it had died centuries ago. Others said the North itself was built to ensure it never fully woke. They were stories told in low voices near hearths, not because people believed every word, but because no one wished to laugh too loudly at legends born from mountain graves.

Baldur licked grease from his thumb. “If the Frost Crown Drake wakes, payment doubles.”

Simmon looked at him. “If the Frost Crown Drake wakes, payment becomes irrelevant.”

Baldur grinned. “That is why it doubles before becoming irrelevant.”

Amethyst’s eyes curved faintly, but she continued.

She touched the western part of the orb. Green, brown, and sea-blue light spread through farmland, forests, silk territories, and coastal edges.

“The West, Silvarenne’s farmland and coast, should face monsters that threaten production, forests, silk, and trade. Lower threats are goblins and dire wolves. Mid-level threats are Ent trees, centaurs, and spiderlings. Upper-mid dangers include Ironbark Ents, Centaur Reavers, and Venom Brood Spiders. Lower-high threats include Bloodroot Treants and Abyssal Boars. High-level monsters include Elder Treants of Rot and Deathmantis Sovereigns. Upper-high danger belongs to the Dreadroot World-Treant. Mid-boss threats include the Ironroot Elder Treant and Broodmother Arachne. Boss-level disaster would be the Worldroot Leviathan.”

Seraphine would have called the West a garden with roots deep enough to strangle a house. No one in the northern hall said it, but several understood the implication. Farmland had its own monsters. Wealth grew where threats were controlled, not where threats did not exist.

Amethyst touched the eastern region.

The orb darkened.

Purple, black, and sickly green lines crawled across slums, underground routes, tower shadows, old sewers, and forbidden districts.

“The East, Vilcrom’s side of the continent, is different. Monsters there are tied to forbidden magic, experiments, underground arenas, assassins, corrupt noble laboratories, and black-market trade. Lower threats are goblins, orcs, and sewer beasts. Mid-level threats are spiderlings, lizardmen, and lower golems. Upper-mid threats include Venom Brood Spiders, Hobgoblin Assassins, and corrupted golems. Lower-high threats include Grave Wargs and Blackscale Lizard Lords. High-level monsters include Bone Knight Commanders and Abyss Hound Packlords. Upper-high threats include Corpse Titans and Black Chimera Regents. Mid-boss threats include Bone Generals and Abyss-Touched Ogre Monarchs. Boss-level disasters are the Lich of the Obsidian Tower and the Black Maw Chimera.”

At the mention of Vilcrom, Simmon’s gaze hardened.

Amethyst noticed, but did not pause.

She touched the central region, and the capital formed inside the orb with gold, white, and artificial blue.

“The capital and central region should have fewer wild monsters. Its dangers are sealed, summoned, experimental, hidden, or politically protected. Lower threats are controlled golems and sewer goblins. Mid-level threats include training beasts and summoned constructs. Upper-mid threats include royal test golems and tower-made beasts. Lower-high threats include Iron Golems and Basilisk Crawlers. High-level threats may include Obsidian Golems and Bone Knight Commanders. Upper-high threats are Colossus Golems and Voidscale Basilisks. Mid-boss danger may appear as a Stoneheart Golem Guardian. Boss-level dangers would be a Titan-Class Arc Golem or the Hollow Saint Beast.”

Hadrin’s expression tightened. “Those classifications are regional tendencies.”

“Correct,” Amethyst said. “Tendencies. Not an absolute law. Monsters migrate. Ruins awaken. Fools move things they should not touch. But tendencies matter because they tell us what should not appear easily.”

The orb rotated again.

This time, several monster images appeared over the northern battlefield projection: goblins, orcs, dire wolves, lower golems, Ent trees, lizardmen, spiderlings, lower wyverns, and centaurs.

Amethyst flicked her wrist, and each image glowed with a different regional color.

“Now look at your waves.”

The room quieted.

The first wave had included lower monsters from several broad categories, still explainable if the Dark Forest had been deeply disturbed. The second had brought Ent trees more commonly associated with western forest regions, lizardmen more suited to swamp and mixed territories, spiderlings that could be local but behaved like hive-driven creatures, centaurs more common to western and open forest routes, and wyverns that could belong to northern ridges but had appeared alongside monsters that should not cooperate naturally.

Amethyst’s voice lowered.

“The monster wave is not merely abnormal because of rage. It is abnormal because the territorial logic is wrong.”

Hadrin’s fingers tightened around his pen. “The monsters should not be gathered from such varied ecological positions.”

“Exactly.”

Rico frowned. “So someone carried them here?”

Amethyst looked at him as if he had said something adorable.

“Do you intend to carry an Ent tree, several centaur bands, spider colonies, lizardmen, wyverns, golems, and whatever else comes tomorrow across half the continent in sacks?”

Rico leaned back. “Fair.”

Baldur wiped his hands and finally stopped eating. “Then say it.”

Amethyst touched the dark forest projection.

The Monster Dominion expanded inside the orb.

Six black points appeared around its edge.

“The Dark Forest only opens this way through ritual anchors. Six objects. Six boundary wounds. The spell does not merely anger what is inside. My assumption is worse.”

The six points brightened.

Lines spread inward.

Then the orb shifted.

For a moment, the Dark Forest no longer looked like a forest. It looked like a throat connected to many unseen mouths across the continent.

Amethyst continued, “The Dark Forest may connect to multiple monster territorial locations in the continent through distorted boundary space. In simpler terms, the ritual does not simply release local monsters. It may turn the forest into a temporary warp gate, pulling monsters by level, type, rage compatibility, or territorial resonance.”

The clerks stopped writing for one breath.

Then Simmon’s voice struck them back into motion.

“Continue recording.”

Pens moved again.

Hadrin looked disturbed. “That would explain why monsters that should belong to the East, South, or West appeared in the North.”

“It is the only justification that fits the evidence so far,” Amethyst said. “Concrete proof is not yet complete. Investigation can be conducted after the unnecessary waves are cleared. Until then, assume the forest is being used as a mouth.”

“A mouth,” Lira repeated quietly.

The serpent around Amethyst’s chair flicked its tongue.

Amethyst smiled faintly. “A hungry one.”

Simmon’s expression did not change, but the men around him knew the weight had increased. A monster wave was one thing. A manipulated monster gate was another. If the enemy could use the Monster Dominion to pull threats from different regions, then the North was not facing a natural disaster. It was facing a weaponized ecosystem.

Baldur finally leaned forward. “And the monster that interests you?”

Amethyst’s eyes gleamed.

“There is a chance an upper-high monster may appear.”

A low murmur passed through the hall.

Upper-high.

Not mid-level. Not lower-high. Not something a tired wall could dismiss as merely difficult.

Simmon spoke carefully. “Which one?”

Amethyst lifted her hand again.

The orb darkened. Snow spread across it. Mountains formed. Then, above the northern ridges, a silhouette appeared.

A draconic body, long and ancient. Wings folded like frozen cliffs. Horns curved backward. Its hide carried ice-armored scales, and pale blue light glowed beneath its chest.

“The Ancient Frost Drake,” Amethyst said.

Even Baldur did not joke immediately.

The image remained suspended over the table, turning slowly. It was not the Frost Crown Drake of legend, not a boss-level calamity capable of reshaping history alone, but it was close enough to make the hall feel smaller. An Ancient Frost Drake belonged to the upper-high level, a regional threat, a monster that could freeze siege lines, crush fortifications, and turn ordinary soldiers into statues of meat and ice if mishandled.

Simmon’s eyes narrowed. “So you need a certain item from that monster to complete your research.”

Amethyst smiled.

“Yes.”

Baldur laughed loudly. “There it is. The royal Enchantress came to save the North and collect a toy.”

“It is not a toy,” Amethyst said. “It is a component.”

“That sounds worse.”

“It is more precise.”

Simmon did not look offended. “Will your research endanger the wall?”

“No. I will help first. I want the drake alive long enough to extract what I need, but not long enough to damage Frosthelm beyond usefulness.”

“That is not reassuring.”

“It is honest.”

Baldur leaned back. “She means she will save us because she wants to dissect the threat properly.”

Amethyst turned toward him. “I will also save you because you may die if I do not support the group.”

The hall went silent.

Then Baldur smiled.

Slowly.

“Careful, Amethyst.”

“Why? Did I wound your barbarian pride?”

“No. You made the price go up again.”

Altea lowered her forehead into one hand. “Please do not negotiate while the North is under threat.”

Rico whispered to Reign, “He absolutely will.”

Reign whispered back, “He already did.”

Simmon allowed the exchange to pass. The answer satisfied him enough. Amethyst wanted something from the Ancient Frost Drake. Good. Desire could be measured. Research could be negotiated. As long as the North remained alive, he would support the Enchantress within reason. If her interest made her fight harder, then Frosthelm would use that interest the same way it used stone, steel, and mercenary hunger.

But another point had caught his attention.

“Magi-Tech,” Simmon said.

Amethyst’s eyes shifted toward him.

“You mentioned earlier that high-level threats may require elite units, tower support, strategy, or Magi-Tech. How do you know the term already?”

Several people looked toward her.

The word had not spread widely enough to be used casually in northern halls. It belonged to Valenhart’s emerging direction, still wrapped in reports, rumors, and controlled disclosure. The South was changing, but not all changes had reached public doctrine.

Amethyst twirled the wine in her cup.

“Mages always seek innovation.”

“That is not an answer.”

“It is the beginning of one.”

Simmon waited.

Amethyst sighed as if honesty bored her. “The capital hears more than people think. The King is not the only one who reads reports. Some of us are interested in methods that treat mana as structure rather than spectacle. Valenhart appears to be doing that. Soon enough, I will visit the South.”

The room tightened slightly.

Baldur grinned. “Poor boy.”

Amethyst looked amused. “You know him?”

“I know of him. He annoyed Arslov enough to keep living.”

“That makes him interesting.”

Simmon remembered Alistair then. His old friend and ally, now Marquis of the South, was standing at the edge of a conflict that had already begun reaching across regions. Reports of the South’s underground construction remained sealed, but whispers of Valenhart’s new power had reached even the North. If Amethyst visited, she would not visit as a simple guest. She would come to study, test, provoke, and perhaps steal inspiration while pretending to admire it.

Amethyst noticed the change in Simmon’s expression.

“You are thinking of Alistair Valenhart.”

Simmon did not deny it.

“Be better at allegiance,” she said.

A lesser lord stiffened at the boldness, but Simmon only watched her.

Amethyst continued, “The South is not what it was. If you bind yourself to it properly, not as a beggar and not as a superior, but as an ally, opportunity will follow. Strength likes structure. Valenhart is building a structure. The North has strength. Do not let pride keep the two apart.”

Baldur looked at her over his cup. “That almost sounded like wisdom.”

“It was. Try not to choke on it.”

Simmon nodded once.

Not in agreement with everything.

Acknowledgment.

He had no love for unnecessary dependence, but he understood military reality. The North could hold walls. The West could feed armies. The capital could grant legitimacy. The South, if the reports were true, was beginning to create systems no faction had fully measured. A world where monsters, rebels, noble schemes, and hidden routes all moved at once required alliances built on more than tradition.

Amethyst lowered her cup.

Her playful expression faded.

The orb above the table darkened until only the image of the Ancient Frost Drake remained. Its wings unfurled slightly inside the projection. Frost mist spilled from its jaws. Six black ritual points circled beneath it like nails around a coffin.

“The important matter is readiness,” she said.

No one spoke.

“If the ritual reaches the correct resonance, the Ancient Frost Drake may not simply appear at the wall. It may be dragged halfway through a warped boundary, enraged, disoriented, and violent beyond ordinary territorial behavior. If that happens, it will not fight like a sleeping ancient beast defending its nest. It will fight as a storm pulled through a wound.”

Hadrin’s face paled.

Simmon’s voice remained steady. “Can you kill it?”

Amethyst looked at the projection.

“I can hunt it.”

That answer was more honest than confident.

Baldur stood then, wiping his hands slowly. “Then we prepare the field.”

Amethyst nodded. “Yes. You prepare the field. I prepare the enchantment. Simmon holds the wall. Hadrin records the resonance. Lira supports the living. Reign and Altea keep the air pressure broken around their wings. Rico and Udoff prevent ground collapse near the ditch. Shan keeps lesser beasts off the support line. Baldur…”

She looked at him.

“You keep it angry at you.”

Baldur’s smile returned, wide and savage.

“That is the easiest thing anyone has asked me today.”

Simmon stood from his seat.

The hall followed.

The celebration was over.

“Return to command,” the Marquis ordered. “All captains prepare for upper-high contingency. Wake the resting mages in sequence, not all at once. Reinforce the right tower and central gate. Move civilians deeper into fortress shelters. Send a sealed report to the capital: possible Ancient Frost Drake manifestation. Request tower and Church readiness.”

The clerks scattered.

The northern lords moved without complaint.

Baldur’s elite group rose from the table, their unfinished food abandoned in favor of weapons, armor, and preparation. Lira finally looked up, though still not at the serpent. Reign checked his remaining bolt types. Altea tested both chakrams with a subtle spin. Rico flexed his gauntlets. Udoff reached for his shield. Shan was already gone.

Amethyst remained seated for one final breath, eyes fixed on the orb.

The Ancient Frost Drake turned slowly inside the light.

Then the Enchantress smiled without humor.

“I have waited years for a proper specimen,” she said.

The serpent hissed around her chair.

Outside, beyond the Northern Wall, the Dark Forest answered with a distant roar.