Lord Summoner's Freedom Philosophy: Grimoire of Love
Chapter 252: Messanger of Astellia

Chapter 252: Messanger of Astellia

"Your Grace," Riven began, his voice a whisper yet cutting through the room like a blade, "there is more to this than simple misinformation. I have reason to believe that there is a mole within our ranks, feeding information directly to Erich."

The room fell silent, the weight of Riven’s words sinking in. Ravindor’s expression darkened, his gaze piercing through the room. "A mole, you say? Do you have any suspects?"

Riven nodded, a slow and deliberate movement. "Yes, Your Grace. I’ve been tracing the flow of information and have identified a few individuals who have been acting suspiciously. With your permission, I will begin an investigation immediately."

Ravindor’s eyes bore into Riven’s. "Do whatever it takes. Root out this traitor and ensure they pay the price for their betrayal."

Riven bowed deeply, slipping back into the shadows, his presence almost ghostly. Ravindor turned back to his advisors, his mind racing with plans and contingencies.

"We cannot afford to let Erich gain the upper hand. Our spies must spread counter-intelligence to muddle their efforts. Let them believe they have the advantage while we prepare to crush them."

Lord Thorne’s eyes glinted with approval. "A masterful plan, Your Grace. We shall turn their own tactics against them."

As the advisors resumed their discussions, plotting out their next moves, Riven moved silently through the fortress, his mind already working on how to unmask the traitor. The stakes were higher than ever, and failure was not an option.

____

The city of Arkansas lay shrouded in the stillness of night, its cobbled streets deserted and its houses darkened as their occupants slept. In the heart of the city, a small, dimly lit tavern stood as an exception to the silence. Inside, the embers of a dying fire flickered in the hearth, casting a faint glow over the empty room.

At a corner table, Lyan sat alone, nursing a tankard of ale. His dark cloak blended seamlessly with the shadows, making him almost indistinguishable in the dim light. His eyes, however, were keen and alert, scanning the room for any sign of movement. He had received a message earlier, delivered by a crow with a black feathered body and piercing red eyes – a bird unmistakably tied to Vilgira Vold, the crown prince’s trusted guard. The message had been brief but clear: someone would meet him here tonight.

Lyan’s thoughts wandered as he waited. His mind played scenarios of the events that might happen in the future – the battles, the bloodshed, the victories, and the losses. He was a seasoned warrior and a former survivor of the great war of the two realms, known for his formidable prowess in combat and his ability to call forth powerful entities to aid him. The task ahead, however, weighed heavily on his shoulders as he thought he had enough of wars and blood.

"But I guess that’s impossible for me, huh?" Lyan uttered with an ironical smile.

The sound of the tavern door creaking open interrupted his reverie. Lyan’s hand instinctively moved to the hilt of his sword, but he relaxed slightly as he saw a cloaked figure enter. The man moved silently, his movements smooth and deliberate, and took a seat beside Lyan without a word.

"You’re punctual," Lyan remarked, his voice low and steady.

The man pulled back his hood, revealing a weathered face and sharp, calculating eyes. "Time is of the essence, Evocatore," he said, his tone equally measured. "I bring news from the crown prince."

Lyan nodded, gesturing for the man to continue.

"The Duke Ravindor plans to attack Arkansas within the week," the messenger began. "His forces are already on the move. The crown prince, however, has devised a strategy that hinges on a critical element – hesitation."

Lyan’s brow furrowed. "Hesitation? What do you mean?"

"The prince intends to create uncertainty within the Duke’s ranks," the man explained. "By allowing Ravindor to strike first, he hopes to make the Duke wary of an imminent counterattack. The fear of a decisive blow from the prince will keep Ravindor on edge, disrupting his plans and weakening his resolve."

Lyan’s eyes narrowed. "So, the prince wants me to hold the city until he arrives?"

"Precisely. Your task is to defend Arkansas with everything you have, to buy time and maintain the city’s defenses until the prince can lead his forces into battle."

"That William bastard..." Lyan cursed under his breath. "So he expects me to fend off Ravindor’s entire army with a handful of mercenaries and whatever local militia we can muster?"

The messenger’s expression softened slightly. "The prince believes in your abilities, Lyan. He knows you can do this. And he trusts that your reputation will inspire those around you to fight with all their might."

Lyan exhaled slowly, the weight of the responsibility settling over him. "Very well," he said finally. "Tell the prince I’ll do what I can."

The messenger nodded, a hint of relief in his eyes. "Thank you, Lyan. The fate of Astellia may well rest on your shoulders."

With that, the man stood and slipped out of the tavern as quietly as he had entered. Lyan watched him go, a sense of determination building within him. He drained the last of his ale and stood, preparing to leave.

As he stepped out into the cool night air, the streets of Arkansas were eerily quiet. The moon cast a silvery glow, illuminating the snow-dusted cobblestones and the faint outlines of the buildings. The cold was biting, seeping through even the thickest of cloaks. Lyan adjusted his cloak, pulling it tighter around him as he scanned the area. Just as he was about to move, another cloaked figure emerged from the shadows, stepping into the moonlight. Unlike the first man, this one had an air of menace about him. His cloak was dark and tattered, and his eyes glinted with malice.

"You’re Evocatore," the newcomer said, his voice a low growl.

Lyan’s hand instinctively moved to his sword. "Who are you?"

"A messenger," the man replied, his lips curling into a sneer. "From Duke Ravindor."

Lyan’s eyes narrowed. "And what does the Duke want with me?"

The man chuckled darkly. "An offer. The same one. The Duke has heard of your prowess and wishes to extend an invitation again. This will be the last time, Evocatore. Join his side, and you will be richly rewarded. Refuse, and you will face his wrath."

Lyan snorted. "I’ve no interest in serving a snake-like Ravindor. Considering all his movements, he keeps getting further from being my ally."

The man’s sneer deepened. "You think you can stand against him? Alone? You will be crushed, Evocatore. The Duke’s forces are vast, and his power is unmatched. Don’t think he’ll be as easy to defeat as those goblins."

"Well, I bet he’s even lower than one," Lyan stepped closer, his eyes blazing with defiance. "Tell your master that I fight for whatever he’s facing. And if he comes for Arkansas, he’ll find more than he bargained for."

The man’s scowl deepened, his hand twitching towards his weapon. For a tense moment, the air between them seemed to crackle with potential violence. But Lyan’s gaze was unyielding, and after a tense moment, the messenger turned on his heel and disappeared into the night, his cloak billowing behind him like a shadow.

Lyan watched him go, his mind racing with thoughts. The Duke’s offer was tempting in its simplicity, but he knew better than to trust a man like Ravindor. The prince’s plan was risky, but it was their best chance to protect the kingdom. He couldn’t afford to be swayed by promises of wealth and power. With a final glance around the empty street, Lyan pulled his cloak tighter around him and began walking towards the House of Roses. The cold air bit at his exposed skin, but he ignored it, his thoughts focused on the challenges ahead.

As he walked, the weight of the coming battle settled heavily on his shoulders. The streets of Arkansas were still and silent, the usual bustle of the town muted by the late hour and the oppressive cold. His breath fogged in the air before him, dissipating quickly in the frigid night. He could feel the eyes of unseen watchers, the tension in the air palpable. The Duke’s influence was vast, and his agents were everywhere. Lyan knew he had to be careful.

_____________________________

Name: Lyan Arkanium Evocatore

Occupation: Mythril-ranked Mercenary

Money: 3,775,710,950 Elnes / 3775 gold 71 big silver 9 big coppers 5 coppers

Weapon: Magic Glaive, 1 (Decent) One-handed Sword, 5 (Good-Quality) One-handed swords, 1 (Decent) bow, 1 Gryphon-Winged Sword

Equipment: 3 Black leather cloaks, 2 Leather Armor, 2 Breastplate, 4 Health Potions, 2 Poison Vials

Grimoire’s Companions: 8 High Spirits, 3 Valkyrie, Shadow Goblin Lord (Lv. 5), Papilio Slime (Lv. 45), Galewing Butterfly (Lv. 45), Rock Golem (Lv. 50), Deadlight (Lv. 74), Moonlight Butterfly (Lv. 45), Ice Golem (Lv. 50), Acid Ant Queen (Lv. 19), Magma Bear (Lv. 1), Fey Mammoth (Lv. 1), Arcane Retriever (Lv. 1), Winter Wolf Alpha (Lv. 12), Fenris (Lv. 1), Gargoyle (Lv. 1), Shadow Nymm (Lv. 1), Seltas Queen (Lv. 1)

Grimoire’s Army: 6 Shadow Servants, 800 Skeleton Army (24 Goblin Champion Skeletons, 226 Hobgoblin Skeletons, 550 Goblin Skeleton Army, 80 Acid Ants Workers, 30 Acid Ants Soldiers, 4 Female Winter Wolves)