Lord Summoner's Freedom Philosophy: Grimoire of Love
Chapter 222: The Old Mediator

Chapter 222: The Old Mediator

"Easy there. Let’s not rush into things, shall we?" Lyan’s voice cut through the tension, his gaze steady as he sought to defuse the volatile situation.

As the two parties stopped short of each other, Lyan offered a friendly smile to the knight before him. "You might want to lower your sword, sir knight,"

"..." With a haughty and sinister glare, the knight Rale referred to as Kale lowered his sword, knowing that the situation was not good enough to continue the tension.

(Guess he could assess the situation well despite his attitude) (Lyan)

"I’m not sure about the reason for the fight, but I believe that we’ve attracted too much unnecessary attention, don’t you think?" Lyan glanced around at the crowd of onlookers who were now watching the battle between the knight and Wilhelmina.

Rale nodded his head in agreement. "That’s true."

"Yes! That’s absolutely true!!" A majestic voice appeared from the direction of the audience. Lyan shifted his gaze and saw that the speaker was an old man with several guards following beside and behind him. In his hands, he held a cane that contained a gemstone embedded inside that glowed with an eerie light.

As Lyan observed Lord Griswald, he found himself drawn into a study of the old nobleman’s character and background. Each detail seemed to offer a glimpse into the complexities of his personality, painting a picture of a man both intriguing and formidable.

The lines etched into Lord Griswald’s weathered face caught Lyan’s attention first. They spoke of a lifetime filled with experiences, each wrinkle a testament to the wisdom gained through years of navigating the intricate web of courtly life. It was as if every crease held a story, hinting at the depth of knowledge hidden behind the nobleman’s calm facade.

Then there were the robes that draped Lord Griswald’s frame, richly embroidered with symbols of wealth and status. The luxurious fabrics and intricate patterns spoke of a man accustomed to the finer things in life, suggesting a position of influence within the aristocracy that demanded respect and reverence.

But it was the gaze of Lord Griswald that truly captivated Lyan. Behind the polite exterior, there lay a sharpness that seemed to pierce through the layers of pretense. His eyes held keen intelligence, like a predator sizing up its prey, revealing a mind that missed nothing and calculated every move with precision.

As Lord Griswald spoke, Lyan couldn’t help but notice the measured cadence of his voice, each word chosen carefully to command attention and convey authority. It was the voice of someone accustomed to leading, guiding, and making decisions that shaped the course of events.

Drawing upon his powers of deduction, Lyan began to piece together his impressions of Lord Griswald. He surmised that the old nobleman was no stranger to the intrigues of courtly politics, having navigated its treacherous waters with skill and cunning. His wealth and status hinted at a position of considerable influence, perhaps even close ties to the royal family.

Moreover, Lyan detected a sharp intellect and a quick wit lurking beneath Lord Griswald’s composed exterior. It was evident that he was not one to be underestimated, his commanding presence and confident demeanor speak volumes about his ability to outmaneuver his adversaries with ease.

"Ah, Lord Griswald," Rale greeted with a respectful bow, his demeanor shifting to one of deference in the presence of the elderly noble.

"Lyan," Wilhelmina acknowledged with a nod, her expression guarded yet respectful.

Lyan and Wilhelmina harmoniously gave the old man a respectful bow, acknowledging his nobility standing in the empire.

Lord Griswald’s eyes swept over the scene before him, his gaze shrewd and calculating as he took in the sight of the two parties standing at odds with each other.

"Indeed, this spectacle has attracted quite the attention," Lord Griswald remarked, his voice carrying a tone of authority that commanded the respect of all who heard it.

Lyan observed the subtle nuances of Lord Griswald’s demeanor, noting the way his eyes flickered with intelligence and his lips curved into a knowing smile. There was a keen intellect at work behind his weathered facade, a mind sharpened by years of experience and wisdom.

He realized then that Lord Griswald was fully aware of what had transpired here and why the two sides were gathered. It seemed he knew the purpose of the duel, and that knowledge alone conveyed a level of insight that bordered on foresight.

Lyan felt a sudden sense of unease. This was a man who understood affairs of state, and that meant he must have known something about the circumstances that brought them here.

The old nobleman turned to face Wilhelmina, his eyes narrowing with suspicion, but then changed into a smile. "Oh please don’t misunderstand me, I’m not here to reprimand anyone," he shrugged.

"The battle between the both of you is very splendid indeed, but it would be such a shame if the people saw such a great battle without giving any benefit for all of you, don’t you think?" The old nobleman said, his words spoken like an elder to a child.

"Indeed, lord Griswald. Please forgive our thoughtlessness..." The person who uttered the apologetic words is Kale, the one whose strike was blocked by Lyan. His stance and wordings seem to be a plea to have the old nobleman forgive the knight Rale.

"Of course, of course. No need to apologize," Lord Griswald replied dismissively, waving off the apology.

A hint of disappointment clouded over Kale’s features, but he quickly masked it with a look of gratitude.

Lord Griswald’s words hung in the air, casting a sense of anticipation over the gathered crowd. It was clear that the old nobleman had something in mind, something that promised to change the course of events in ways they could not yet foresee.

"As I was saying," Lord Griswald continued, his gaze sweeping over the assembled group, "it would be a shame to let such talent go to waste. I propose a proposition that may be of interest to all parties involved. Which is to wait for your fight at the martial tournament held by the empire."

Lyan listened intently to Lord Griswald’s proposition, his analytical mind already considering the implications of such an offer. A martial tournament held by the empire was no small event; it was a gathering of the surrounding countries’ most skilled warriors, a showcase of strength, skill, and honor.

"Looks like exciting things are coming, I could feel it from the air, ho ho ho!" The old nobleman laughed off, but before he turned his back, his gaze stopped at Lyan.

Lyan met Lord Griswald’s gaze with a steady, contemplative look, sensing that there was more to the old nobleman’s interest than met the eye. There was a glint of recognition in Lord Griswald’s eyes, a silent acknowledgment that spoke volumes without a word being exchanged.

"Until we meet again," Lord Griswald said with a nod, his tone carrying a sense of finality as he turned away, his guards falling into step behind him.

"......." (Lyan)

As the old nobleman disappeared into the crowd, Lyan couldn’t shake the feeling that their encounter had set something in motion, a chain of events that would shape the course of their future in ways they couldn’t yet fathom.

Turning his attention back to Wilhelmina and Rale, Lyan sensed a shift in the atmosphere between them. The tension that had once crackled in the air now dissipated, replaced by a shared anticipation for the upcoming martial tournament. It appeared that Lord Griswald’s proposition had resonated with both parties, offering them a chance to settle their differences in a more formal and regulated setting.

"Looks like we’ll have to save our showdown for another day," Wilhelmina remarked, her tone laced with a wry smile as she glanced at Lyan, a hint of gratitude shining in her eyes.

"Indeed," Rale agreed, his expression one of reluctant acceptance. "That was quite the fight, princess. Let’s cross blades again in our next encounter."

With a final nod of acknowledgment, the two adversaries parted ways, retreating to their respective corners as the crowd around them began to disperse, buzzing with excitement over the events they had just witnessed.

"Princess?" Lyan echoed with a quizzical tilt of his head.

Wilhelmina sighed softly, her gaze distant as she explained, "He’s an acquaintance from my days at the academy. We share a history. My apologies for the commotion, Lyan. It seems we got carried away in the heat of the moment."

"I see," Lyan responded with a casual shrug, absorbing the new information with a nod of understanding.

As he processed the events that had transpired, Lyan couldn’t help but marvel at the intricacies of nobility and magic intertwining. It was a world where unexpected alliances could form and old acquaintances resurface in the most surprising of ways. Yet, amidst the intrigue, there was a sudden interruption.

Gawk! Gawk!

The sound of the cawing of a crow.

But not just any crow. Lyan recognized it immediately as one of the stone crows summoned by his newly acquired monster as he could feel part of their connection from it.

"The gargoyle’s signal," Lyan mused to himself, his curiosity piqued by the unexpected appearance of his summoned creature.