The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

Chapter 146 The Northern Defense (4) Thinking Goblins

Mikhailis stood at the top of the wall, surrounded by Elowen, Serelith, Lira, and Count Arvis. The cool evening breeze swept over them, rustling the edges of Elowen's robes and the intricate folds of Serelith's dark cloak. The Northern Province had fallen into a lull after repelling the first attack, and the walls were now lined with guards standing at attention, ready for whatever might come next. Mikhailis had his glasses on, a subtle projection in his view that no one else could see.

Rodion's voice crackled in his ear.

Mikhailis adjusted his glasses, squinting slightly. The flickering feed in his vision zoomed in on the forest, where the goblin shaman stood, seemingly communicating through gestures and strange signals. Yet, as the view shifted, he saw more: a gathering of different goblins, a cluster of them receiving instructions—including a hulking Thalorian Hobgoblin.

There's definitely more going on here. A coordinated assault? Mikhailis thought, his mind racing.

He barely noticed the growing whispers around him.

The nobles, gathered nearby for the banquet meant to celebrate the defense of the Northern Province, were murmuring, their eyes glancing his way. He could catch pieces of their conversation—fragments of gossip and suspicion.

"... tricked the queen..."

"... picked up by her like a stray..."

"... doesn't belong here, what could he possibly contribute?"

Mikhailis let out a quiet sigh, his gaze dropping momentarily.

Ah, right. The banquet is still happening.

He had nearly forgotten. This whole celebration served several purposes: pleasing the royals, giving the Northern nobles a chance to curry favor, and also a space for these noble games—befriending, negotiating, gossiping. Mikhailis had never cared for such things, but now he found himself in the center of it.

Rodion's voice buzzed in his ear, its usual mechanical tone carrying a hint of irritation.

Mikhailis smiled faintly.

Rodion irritated? Not possible... This guy is just my personalized AI, right?

Still, there was something amusing about imagining his AI companion annoyed by nobles.

He turned slightly, glancing at Elowen, Serelith, and Lira—each of them frowning. Elowen's eyes carried a silent fury, her fingers tightening around her staff. Serelith, for once, looked less mischievous and more genuinely displeased. Lira stood beside him, her stance elegant but tense.

"Rodion, relay this feed to Elowen immediately."

Mikhailis nodded, his mind racing. The goblins weren't acting randomly. This was a coordinated attack, more sophisticated than anything they had faced before. There were other groups too—archers hidden in the treeline, ropes ready to be thrown over the walls. The hobgoblin was directing them with a level of strategy that was unsettling.

They're not just attacking blindly—they're thinking.

Suddenly, the feed shifted, and Mikhailis' heart sank. The goblins launched their assault.

____

The Tanglebeetles surged towards the wall, their legs skittering across the ground, their dark bodies shimmering under the moonlight. Their movements seemed almost orchestrated, as if driven by a deliberate plan. This time, the attack was different. Instead of charging headlong into the defenses like a mindless swarm, they split into smaller, more strategic groups, moving in calculated patterns, creating diversions to draw attention away from their real objectives. The Tanglebeetles coordinated their actions, some heading directly towards the main gates, others circling to probe for weak spots along the wall, while a third group began to burrow, attempting to compromise the structure from below.

The soldiers on the wall focused their attention on the largest group of beetles, their eyes fixed on the overwhelming mass heading towards the gate. They were unaware of the goblins stealthily moving through the forest under the cover of darkness. The Thalorian goblin archers, hidden among the dense trees, moved with an eerie precision. They nocked their arrows, their bows drawn back in unison, their eyes glinting with malicious intent. These goblins had clearly trained for this, their movements suggesting a level of discipline that was unusual for their kind. It was as if someone—or something—was commanding them with a higher level of strategy.

Mikhailis watched, his breath caught in his throat, his eyes narrowing at the scene unfolding before him. The goblins moved with a terrifying precision—something far beyond the usual disorganized rabble. They fired their arrows, each one attached to a thin rope that sailed gracefully through the air, latching securely onto the crenellations atop the wall. The ropes went taut, and with astonishing speed and agility, the goblins began to climb. Their movements were quick, practiced, and relentless, as if they had rehearsed this very maneuver countless times. Mikhailis could feel the unease rising within him; this wasn't just an attack—it was a calculated breach.

"Damn it," Mikhailis muttered, his fingers tightening around the armrest of the sofa.

"They're breaching the walls."

The guards on the wall turned, their eyes widening in shock as they caught sight of the goblins scaling the ropes. The scene quickly devolved into chaos—panic spread like wildfire. Shouts filled the air as soldiers rushed to cut the ropes, their hands trembling as they hacked away with their swords. Others leaned over the parapets, trying desperately to push the goblins back before they could get a foothold. The tension was palpable; for a moment, it seemed as though the wall might be lost. The air was thick with fear, the sound of clashing metal and the shouts of alarmed soldiers echoing against the cold stone.

But before the chaos could spiral completely out of control, a voice rang out, clear, strong, and commanding—cutting through the din like a beacon of hope.

"Fire!"

Elowen's voice pierced through the tumult, her presence radiating authority and composure. The mages atop the wall responded instantly, their training evident as they moved in perfect unison. Their hands rose, fingers splayed as they began to chant, their voices blending into a low, resonant hum that seemed to vibrate in the very air around them. The temperature dropped sharply as Elowen's magic took hold, the ground beneath the goblins freezing, the air turning frigid. Ice began to spread, crawling up the ropes, slowing the goblins' advance as the soldiers rallied.

Mikhailis watched, a small smile playing on his lips, his eyes reflecting the flickering glow of the magic being unleashed before him.

They've got this.

The battle was far from over, but with Elowen leading the defense—with Serelith unleashing her dark, consuming flames, Vyrelda at the forefront, and the brave soldiers who had faced these creatures year after year—they had a real chance. The cohesion of their response, the swift mobilization, and the resilience of everyone involved filled Mikhailis with a quiet sense of pride. He leaned back into the sofa, his eyes still fixed on the projections, fingers drumming thoughtfully on the armrest.

This is just the beginning. Let's see what these goblins are really up to.

Now this is interesting. Let's see what you got, greeny boys.