Lord Dubal's office contrasted sharply with the spartan functionality of the rest of the fortress. Though far from luxurious, comfortable furnishings and a few personal touches—maps of distant lands, a shelf of leather-bound books, a worn chess set—hinted at the commander's cultured background. The room's most welcome feature, however, was the heating stone embedded in the ceiling—a rare magical amenity that radiated gentle warmth throughout the chamber.
"Please, make yourselves comfortable," Dubal offered, removing his heavy military coat and hanging it on a wooden peg by the door.
Amilia and Svara followed suit, shedding their outer layers with evident relief. The Masaai warrior rolled his muscular shoulders, his tribal tattoos shifting across his skin as he stretched, grateful for the blessed heat after days of travel through snow-covered terrain.
Dubal settled behind his desk, fingers interlaced before him. "I confess, your arrival on foot is most unexpected. To what do I owe the honor of this visit?"
Amilia reached into her tunic and produced a sealed parchment bearing the De Gror family crest. "Official business," she explained, sliding the document across the desk. "From House De Gror."
Lord Dubal broke the seal with practiced efficiency, his eyes scanning the contents in silence. As he read, his expression shifted from polite interest to focused attention. The letter—bearing the signature of Kaiden De Gror, commander of the First Platoon—detailed a collaborative mission between the Central Administration of Valhalla Adventurers Guild and House De Gror to investigate unusual anomalies and monster sightings along the northern border.
"Strange monsters crossing the border..." Dubal chuckled, setting the parchment aside. "It's been some time since this fortress has seen anything truly interesting. The occasional smuggler or exile, perhaps, but nothing worthy of the Rouge Saint's attention."
"You've had no unusual sightings?" Amilia pressed, leaning forward slightly. "No reports from your patrols? Tracks in the snow, perhaps, or livestock gone missing from nearby settlements?"
"Nothing beyond routine border incidents," Dubal replied, though his brow furrowed slightly. "Though I admit, the winter has been harsher than usual this year. Several of our patrols have reported unusual weather patterns—storms appearing without warning, temperatures dropping well below seasonal norms."
He rose from his seat, moving toward a map pinned to the wall. "If you'd like to extend your stay while you investigate, we can certainly accommodate you. The fortress has ample guest quarters, though they're rarely used these days."
"That would be most helpful," Amilia agreed, standing to join him at the map. "Perhaps tomorrow we could review patrol routes and—"
The conversation shattered as a deep, sonorous bell began to toll—its urgent rhythm echoing through the fortress with unmistakable meaning. Lord Dubal's expression transformed instantly, all traces of hospitality replaced by battle-ready focus.
"What's that annoying sound?" Svara asked, wincing at the clangor.
"The alarm bell," Dubal replied grimly, already strapping on his sword belt. "Something interesting, it seems." His serious tone belied the casual words as he strode toward the door with urgent purpose.
In the fortress courtyard, chaos had erupted. Soldiers rushed in all directions, grabbing weapons and donning armor with practiced efficiency. Shouts echoed across the stone walls as officers barked orders above the continuing alarm.
Lord Dubal seized a passing soldier by the collar, lifting him partially off the ground with surprising strength. "Report! What's happening?"
"East watch, sir!" the soldier gasped, pointing toward the watchtower. "Eric and Marco spotted something. Eric rang the emergency bell before—"
Before the soldier could finish, Svara stepped forward, scooping Amilia onto his shoulder in a single fluid motion. Lord Dubal's eyes widened in shock as the Masaai warrior leapt upward with impossible agility, clearing thirty feet to land gracefully on the eastern watchtower's balcony.
"Impossible," Dubal murmured, his experienced eye recognizing ability far beyond even King-ranked swordsmen. With a shake of his head, he charged toward the stairs, determined to reach the watchtower by more conventional means.
Above, Svara set Amilia down with careful precision. Eric and Marco stared at the new arrivals, mouths agape at their supernatural entrance.
"Where is it?" Amilia demanded, focusing immediately on the matter at hand. "What did you see?"
Eric, still stunned by their dramatic arrival, pointed wordlessly eastward. Marco found his voice first: "There, through the forest line—something moving fast. Too fast."
Svara's keen eyes immediately located what had alarmed the guards. Through the dense forest beyond the fortress walls, something red moved with terrifying speed, leaving a trail of steam where snow melted in its wake. The creature's movements were fluid yet powerful, more reminiscent of a predator than any natural beast of the northern wilds.
"Is it the scout?" Amilia asked quietly, her expression suddenly grave.
"Unsure," Svara replied, reaching for the massive circular axe strapped to his back. "But we'll find out."
Amilia stepped behind him, her hands tracing arcane patterns in the air. Golden light flowed from her fingertips into Svara's body, his muscles visibly expanding as her buffing magic enhanced his already formidable strength.
With a feral grin, Svara hefted his weapon, its weight meaningless in his magically augmented grip. The axe began to glow with accumulated power as he channeled his aura into the metal.
"Let's get its attention," he growled, rearing back before launching the massive axe with devastating force. The weapon cut through the air like a comet, its trajectory perfectly calculated despite the impossible distance.
In the forest below, a Volcanic Cliff Drake moved with singular purpose, following a scent that had drawn it far from its traditional hunting grounds. The creature's body radiated heat that turned snow to steam in its wake, its muscular form designed for both power and speed. Massive claws superheated to help it scale sheer surfaces dug into the frozen earth with each bounding step.
Suddenly, the drake's scales rippled with warning. Acting on instinct honed through countless battles, it twisted its massive bulk with surprising agility. Svara's axe missed its intended target but grazed the creature's flank before embedding itself in the ground with such force that nearby trees shuddered from the impact.
The drake skidded to a halt, its serpentine head swinging toward the fortress. Nostrils flared as it tested the air, catching the scent of the weapon's owner. A deep, rumbling growl built within its chest, smoke curling from between razor-sharp teeth as its glowing eyes fixed on the distant watchtower.
With an ear-splitting roar that echoed across the frozen landscape, the creature charged directly toward the fortress, its powerful limbs propelling it through the snow with terrifying speed.
On the watchtower, Svara grinned with savage anticipation. "Got its attention," he announced, drawing a second, smaller axe from his belt. With casual grace, he jumped over the parapet, calling back to Amilia: "Take a horse and follow!"
Amilia sighed heavily, turning to Eric. "We need to move. Now."
Unnoticed by the fortress occupants, a second presence stirred in the distant snowdrifts. What had appeared to be merely another mound of snow shifted subtly, revealing the outline of a scout drake. Its bone-white scales provided perfect camouflage against the winter landscape, and multiple eyes blinked as they focused first on the charging Volcanic Drake, then on Svara leaping to intercept it, and finally on the fortress itself.
The scout's massive tail, tipped with a club-like bone structure, twitched with predatory anticipation. Unlike its volcanic counterpart, this drake moved with calculated patience, assessing the situation with cold intelligence as it began to formulate its approach.