Lord Summoner's Freedom Philosophy: Grimoire of Love
Chapter 266: The Greedy Mouse Lord (1) The Attack

Chapter 266: The Greedy Mouse Lord (1) The Attack

Under the hot sun, Lyan and his task force rode swiftly toward the eastern pass, the lifeline for Grafen’s supplies. The horses’ hooves pounded against the dirt road, a rhythmic reminder of the urgency of their mission. Lyan’s mind raced as he considered the best approach to cutting off these crucial resources. He glanced back at his team—a mix of seasoned mercenaries and soldiers handpicked for their agility and combat prowess. Among them was Borton, his towering figure and calm demeanor providing a reassuring presence.

"We’ll reach the pass by nightfall," Lyan called out, his voice steady despite the growing tension. "Stay alert. Our success depends on swift and precise action."

As dusk settled, the task force arrived at a vantage point overlooking the narrow pass. Lyan signaled for them to dismount and gather. The group huddled around a hastily drawn map, the dim light of a lantern casting long shadows over their faces.

"Borton," Lyan said, pointing to a section of the map, "take a group and set up an ambush here. It’s the most vulnerable point. Our goal is to hit them hard and fast."

Borton nodded, his eyes scanning the terrain. "Understood. We’ll use the boulders for cover and wait for your signal."

Lyan then turned to the rest of the team. "We’ll position ourselves here," he indicated another spot, "and create a blockade. We need to stop the caravan without alerting the rest of Grafen’s forces."

With plans set, the group moved into position. Hours passed as they waited in silence, the tension mounting. Finally, the faint sound of wheels and the clinking of armor reached their ears. Lyan raised his hand, signaling for readiness. The caravan came into view—a long line of wagons laden with supplies, guarded by a contingent of soldiers.

As the caravan reached the ambush point, Lyan gave the signal. Borton’s group struck first, descending upon the guards with lethal precision. Arrows flew, and swords clashed as the mercenaries emerged from their hiding spots. The element of surprise worked in their favor, causing chaos among the guards.

"Block the road!" Lyan shouted, leading his group to create a barricade. They pushed boulders and felled trees into the path, trapping the remaining wagons.

The guards fought back fiercely, but Lyan’s team held their ground. Amidst the chaos, Lyan spotted the caravan leader—a burly man giving orders with surprising composure. Realizing he was the linchpin, Lyan made his move.

"Got him!" Lyan called out, charging through the fray. His sword met the leader’s in a clash of steel. The man was skilled, but Lyan’s agility and strategic mind gave him the upper hand. With a swift maneuver, Lyan disarmed him and knocked him to the ground.

"Yield," Lyan demanded, his blade at the man’s throat.

The leader glared up at him but saw the determination in Lyan’s eyes. "I yield," he spat, dropping his weapon.

With the leader subdued, the remaining guards quickly surrendered. Lyan’s team secured the wagons and took stock of their haul—food, weapons, and medical supplies, all vital to Grafen’s defense.

"Good work, everyone," Lyan said, his voice filled with satisfaction. "We’ve struck a significant blow."

Borton approached, wiping blood from his sword. "What’s our next move?"

Lyan glanced at the map again. "We’ll set traps along the pass to further disrupt any attempts to resupply Grafen. Then we’ll return to the main army and prepare for the siege."

The task force worked through the night, setting up traps and ensuring the pass would be impassable. By dawn, they rode back to the main camp, weary but victorious.

___

Meanwhile, Arnold stood at the forefront of the main army, his eyes scanning the horizon. The camp was a hive of activity as soldiers prepared for the upcoming siege. Tents were pitched in neat rows, and the clang of blacksmiths’ hammers filled the air as weapons were sharpened.

Arnold turned to his captains, laying out the strategy for the siege. "We need to position our forces strategically around Grafen to cut off any escape routes. Our main force will advance from the south, while smaller units will flank from the east and west."

One of the captains, a grizzled veteran named Harland, nodded. "And the archers?"

Arnold pointed to a ridge overlooking the city. "Position them there. They’ll provide cover and disrupt any attempts to man the walls."

As the captains dispersed to relay orders, Prince Erich approached, his presence commanding respect. "Arnold, how are the preparations?"

"On schedule, Your Highness," Arnold replied. "We’re positioning the troops to maximize our advantage."

Prince Erich looked pleased. "Excellent. I have every confidence in your leadership."

Arnold bowed slightly. "Thank you, Your Highness. We’ll be ready."

As the day wore on, the army’s preparations neared completion. Tension hung in the air, but there was also a palpable sense of determination. The soldiers knew what was at stake, and they were ready to fight for their kingdom.

In the late afternoon, Lyan and his task force returned to camp, greeted by cheers from their comrades. Lyan made his way to the command tent, where Arnold and Prince Erich awaited him.

"Evocatore," Arnold greeted him with a firm handshake. "Good to see you back. How did it go?"

"We successfully intercepted the supply caravan and set traps along the pass," Lyan reported. "Grafen’s supplies will be severely disrupted. Well, it’s if he hasn’t prepared any countermeasures for this,"

"You’re right," Prince Erich smiled, his eyes gleaming with approval. "Well done, Lyan. This gives us a significant advantage."

Lyan nodded, but his expression remained serious. "We need to move quickly. Grafen will soon realize what’s happened, and they’ll prepare for our assault."

"Agreed," Arnold said. "The troops are ready. We just need your signal, Your Highness."

Prince Erich stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over the assembled commanders. "The time has come. We march at dawn."

___

As night fell, the camp settled into a tense calm. Soldiers rested and prepared their gear, knowing the battle would soon begin. Lyan found a quiet spot to reflect, his thoughts drifting to the women at the House of Roses. He hoped his letter had reached them, bringing some measure of reassurance. It’s been a while since he’s been in such a war.

Unlike the case with the goblin king. This time, his enemies are humans as well.

"Hell of a fight today." Borton joined him, sitting down with a heavy sigh.

Lyan chuckled softly. "Indeed. But it’s just the beginning."

Borton nodded, his eyes serious. "You’re right about that. But we’ll get through it. We always do. Just like what we’ve done with those nasty goblins,"

Lyan glanced at his friend, a rare smile touching his lips. "Well, you’re damn right,"

The night passed slowly, each moment stretched by anticipation. As the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, the camp sprang to life. Soldiers donned their armor, checked their weapons, and formed into ranks.

Prince Erich mounted his horse and rode to the front of the army. His presence commanded silence, and he raised his hand, addressing the troops.

"Today, we reclaim what is rightfully ours," he declared, his voice carrying over the assembled forces. "We fight for our kingdom, for our people, and for the future. Stand strong, and we will prevail!"

A roar of approval erupted from the army, their spirits lifted by the prince’s words. Lyan and Arnold exchanged a determined nod, their minds focused on the task ahead.

"Let’s do this," Lyan said, mounting his horse.

"Indeed," Arnold agreed.

With a final signal from Prince Erich, the army began its march towards Grafen. The sight of ten thousand soldiers moving as one was both awe-inspiring and humbling. Banners fluttered in the breeze, and the ground trembled under the weight of their determination.

As they neared the city, the tension grew palpable. Grafen’s high walls loomed in the distance, a formidable barrier standing between them and their goal. But Lyan felt a surge of confidence. They had prepared meticulously, and now it was time to execute their plan.

Arnold rode up beside him, his expression resolute. "Ready, Baron?"

Lyan grinned, a fierce light in his eyes. "Always."

They reached the outskirts of Grafen, and the army split into its designated units. Archers took their positions on the ridge, and smaller flanking forces moved into place. The main force, led by Arnold, positioned itself for a frontal assault.

Lyan and his task force moved to a strategic point, ready to disrupt any counterattacks. As the final preparations were made, a hush fell over the battlefield. The moment of truth had arrived.

Prince Erich rode to the front, raising his sword high. "For Astellia!" he shouted, his voice a rallying cry.

"FOR ASTELLIA!" the army roared back, their voices a thunderous echo.

With that, the siege of Grafen began. Arrows flew, siege engines rumbled forward, and the clash of steel rang out as the battle was joined. Lyan led his team with precision, striking at key points and keeping the enemy off balance. Arnold’s strategic brilliance guided the main force, their movements calculated and decisive.

Through the chaos, Lyan’s mind remained sharp, his focus unwavering. He knew that every decision, every action, could mean the difference between victory and defeat. And as he fought, he kept the faces of those he loved in his mind, a reminder of why he fought so fiercely.

The battle raged on, each side giving their all. But as the sun climbed higher in the sky, the tide began to turn. Lyan could see the cracks forming in Grafen’s defenses, the signs of a city on the verge of falling.