Lord Summoner's Freedom Philosophy: Grimoire of Love
Chapter 268: The Greedy Mouse Lord (3) The Start of The Siege

Chapter 268: The Greedy Mouse Lord (3) The Start of The Siege

The sun rose slowly over Grafen, casting a pale light over the fortified city. The air was thick with the smell of sweat, fear, and anticipation as the defenders stood ready at their posts. The Astellian army, a formidable force with banners fluttering in the morning breeze, assembled in the fields beyond the walls, preparing for their assault. Inside the inner castle, Count Havton lounged in his opulent chambers, surrounded by luxury and excess.

His ample form was draped in fine silks, and he clutched a goblet of wine in one hand. A handful of terrified slaves and maids stood by, ready to attend to his every whim. Havton’s eyes were glazed with a mix of fear and intoxication, trying to drown out the sounds of preparation and war outside.

"More wine!" he bellowed, his voice slurred. A young maid, trembling, stepped forward to refill his goblet. Havton grabbed her wrist, his grip bruising her delicate skin. "You’re lucky to be in my presence, girl. Remember that."

She nodded quickly, pouring the wine with shaking hands. Havton released her and took a deep gulp, savoring the rich taste. The maid quickly retreated, her eyes darting nervously towards the door.

Outside, the Astellian forces began their assault. The sound of war horns blared across the fields, signaling the start of the siege. The defenders on the walls steeled themselves, gripping their weapons tightly.

General Corbin, a grizzled veteran with a reputation for brutality, paced along the battlements, barking orders. "Archers, nock your arrows! Infantry, hold the line! We will not let these bastards breach our walls!"

The Astellian army advanced in tight formation, their shields raised. At the forefront was their commander, a tall, imposing figure. This commander, with his flowing red cloak and fearsome presence. But not just him, there is a captain with a huge glaive moved with the grace and power of a warlock, directing his troops with precision. Marlowe, Count Havton’s chief advisor, watched the scene unfold from a vantage point. His weaselly face twisted with concern. "This guy... he’s unlike any we’ve faced before. His tactics are... innovative."

General Corbin grunted in agreement. "Aye, he’s no ordinary leader. Look at the way he commands his troops. Every movement is calculated. And that glaive-user... it’s like nothing I’ve seen."

The man raised his glaive, and with a sweep of his arm, a wave of magical energy surged forward, crashing into the defenders’ lines. Men were thrown back, screaming, as the energy tore through their ranks. "He fights like a warlock," Marlowe muttered, his eyes wide. "We need to be careful."

General Corbin’s face hardened. "Careful or not, we need to hold this line. Archers, fire!" A volley of arrows arced through the sky, descending upon the advancing Astellians. Many were struck down, but the gaps in their ranks were quickly filled.

The Astellian swung his glaive again, deflecting arrows with a shield of magical force. As the battle raged, the Astellians employed innovative siege tactics. Large wooden towers, reinforced with iron and covered in wet hides to protect against fire, were rolled towards the walls. Behind these towers, battering rams and siege engines advanced, their operators shielded by the heavy wooden structures.

"Those towers are trouble," Marlowe pointed out. "They’re protected against our fire arrows." General Corbin nodded. "We need to find a way to destroy them before they reach the walls. Send word to the engineers. We need to deploy our counter-siege weapons."

The defenders’ engineers worked quickly, assembling massive ballistae and catapults. These counter-siege weapons hurled heavy stones and explosive projectiles at the approaching towers. The first tower was struck by a boulder, shattering its front and causing it to collapse, crushing the soldiers inside.

"Good! Keep it up!" Corbin shouted.

Inside the castle, Havton’s indulgence continued. He had summoned several of his favorite maids and slaves to his chambers, forcing them to entertain him as the battle raged outside. The sound of distant explosions and the clash of weapons seeped into the room, but Havton ignored it, focusing instead on his perverse pleasures.

"Ahahaha! You love it, right, you bitch!?" Havton shouted, his fat body colliding with the tied-up woman in front of him. She was clearly in pain, her eyes filled with despair, but for Havton, it was a source of twisted delight.

"Slaves like you have your lives right in my palms! It’s a great honor for you to have my noble thing inside, you right!!" He panted, his breath foul and heavy. The woman’s pleas fell on deaf ears. Havton’s eyes were glazed with a mix of lust and madness, using his power to subdue and control those around him. His actions were a stark contrast to the chaos and bravery unfolding outside.

Despite the defenders’ best efforts, the Astellian forces pressed on. The magic-wielding commander directed his troops with unparalleled skill, exploiting every weakness in Grafen’s defenses.

As the battle wore on, more towers reached the walls, and the battering rams began their relentless assault. The gates of Grafen trembled under the force of the rams. Each blow sent shockwaves through the city, and the defenders struggled to maintain their positions.

The tension was palpable, and even the most seasoned soldiers felt the strain. General Corbin stood at the front lines, his sword flashing as he cut down one attacker after another. His armor was smeared with blood and dirt, but he showed no signs of slowing. "Hold the line!" he roared. "We cannot let them through!"

Marlowe, ever the opportunist, saw an opening. "General, we need to fall back to the inner defenses. If we stay here, we’ll be overrun." Corbin’s eyes blazed with fury. "We hold this gate, Marlowe. Fall back if you wish, but I will not abandon my post!" Inside the castle, Havton’s indulgence took on a new level of depravity.

He forced his slaves and maids to entertain him in increasingly cruel ways, desperate to distract himself from the growing threat outside. His cowardice was on full display as he refused to acknowledge the reality of the situation.

A loud crash echoed through the castle, shaking the walls. Havton’s head snapped up, his face pale. "What was that?" he demanded, his voice trembling. One of his advisors burst into the room, out of breath and covered in sweat. "My lord, the outer defenses are failing. The Astellians are breaching the gates. We need to prepare for their arrival."

Havton’s face contorted with fear. "Prepare? How? We have walls, we have soldiers!"

The advisor shook his head. "Not enough, my lord. We must fortify the inner castle and prepare for a last stand."

As the Astellians breached the outer walls, the tension within Grafen’s ranks reached a boiling point. The soldiers and mercenaries, aware of Havton’s cowardice and indulgence, grew increasingly resentful.

Whispers of desertion and mutiny spread like wildfire. In the midst of the chaos, a group of soldiers cornered Marlowe. "Your master’s a coward," one spat. "He sits in his castle, playing with his toys while we die out here." Marlowe raised his hands defensively. "I understand your frustration, but we need to stay united. If we turn on each other now, we’re finished."

"United?" another soldier sneered. "Havton doesn’t care about us. He’s just using us to save his own skin."

Marlowe struggled to find the right words. "We need to hold out a little longer. Reinforcements might still come." The soldiers grumbled but reluctantly agreed to return to their posts.

However, their morale was at an all-time low, and their loyalty to Havton was hanging by a thread.

As night fell, the defenders made their final preparations for the inevitable breach of the inner castle.

General Corbin, bruised and battered, rallied his remaining troops. "Listen to me! We are Grafen’s last line of defense. If we fall, the city falls. Fight with everything you have!" The soldiers, though weary and disheartened, nodded in grim determination. They took their positions, ready to defend the inner castle to the last breath.

In his chambers, Havton trembled with fear. He had never been a man of courage, and now, with his life on the line, he was paralyzed by terror. The sounds of battle grew louder, and he knew it was only a matter of time before the Astellians reached him.

As the Astellian commander led his troops through the breached outer defenses, he paused, his eyes scanning the fortress. He could sense the fear and desperation within its walls. "This is it," he murmured to himself. "The final push." With a wave of his magic glaive, he signaled the advance. The Astellians surged forward, their war cries echoing through the night. The defenders met them with a fierce resistance, but the outcome was inevitable.

In the chaos of battle, Havton’s chambers were finally breached. The door burst open, and a group of Astellian soldiers, and a person with platinum blonde hair that he recognized very well, stormed in. Havton scrambled backward, his fat fingers clutching a dagger that looked comically small in his trembling hand. "Stay back!" he squealed, brandishing the dagger feebly.