Lord Summoner's Freedom Philosophy: Grimoire of Love -
Chapter 383: The Confined Woman
Chapter 383: The Confined Woman
Lyan and Althea moved carefully down the narrow, dimly lit staircase that led to the underground prison beneath Hektor’s mansion. The air was damp, cold, and carried the sour scent of mildew. Lyan couldn’t help but wonder how many unfortunate souls had been trapped here over the years, left to rot without a second thought. He exchanged a glance with Althea, who had her hand resting on the hilt of her sword, ready for anything that might jump out of the shadows.
As they reached the bottom, Lyan heard a muffled sound from one of the cells, growing louder as they approached. A voice, distinctly female, sharp and filled with frustration, echoed through the stone corridors.
"That stupid old fart, Hektor! I swear, if I get my hands on him, I’ll wring his greasy neck! And his son, that creepy, slimy pervert—thinking he can swoon girls with those leering eyes of his. Ugh, he gives me chills just thinking about it!"
Lyan paused, exchanging a raised-eyebrow glance with Althea. There was a certain energy in the voice, despite the circumstances, that took him by surprise. It wasn’t what he expected from someone trapped in a dungeon for who knew how long.
They continued moving, and soon the source of the voice came into view. Behind the rusted bars of a cell sat a young woman with tangled hair and clothes that looked like they had once been fine, now reduced to rags. She was visibly dirty, but her spirit—that was unmistakable. She was seated on the ground, her hands clenched into fists as she continued her tirade, her eyes ablaze with anger.
Lyan let out a short chuckle, leaning against the door of her cell. "Looks like you’ve had quite a bit to say about your captors."
The woman—her face partially obscured by the shadows—looked up sharply, her gaze locking onto Lyan’s. "Who are you? Another one of Hektor’s goons? Or maybe you’re just here to enjoy the show, huh?"
Althea took a step forward, her eyes narrowing. "Careful with your words. We’re not here to harm you."
The woman eyed Althea for a long moment, then snorted. "Yeah, sure. That’s what they all say. Next thing I know, I’m getting tossed back in here with even fewer scraps than before."
Lyan held up a hand, signaling Althea to stand down. He reached into the satchel slung across his shoulder and pulled out a bundle of clothes, tossing them through the bars toward the woman. "Here. You look like you could use something clean."
The woman blinked, clearly taken aback by the gesture. She stared at the bundle for a moment before reluctantly picking it up. "What’s this supposed to be?"
"Clothes," Lyan said simply, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "Thought you might want to look a little less like you’ve been living in a dungeon." He tilted his head, looking around the dreary cell. "Which, I suppose, you have."
The woman’s lips twitched, almost forming a smile. She muttered something under her breath, still clearly irritated, as she took the clothes and began to change, making sure to keep her back to them. Lyan averted his eyes, though he couldn’t help but steal the occasional glance. Althea caught him and nudged him hard in the ribs.
"Eyes forward, Lyan," she whispered harshly, her gaze stern.
Lyan cleared his throat, pretending to inspect the ceiling.
(No harm in looking, right? Besides, it’s important to assess her condition... health-wise.)
(You’re not fooling anyone, Lyan) Arturia’s stern voice rang in his head, causing Lyan to grimace slightly.
Once the woman was dressed in the cleaner, albeit simple, clothes Lyan had given her, she turned to face them fully. The fire in her eyes hadn’t dimmed in the slightest. Lyan noticed how she held herself—shoulders back, chin high. Despite her ordeal, she had an unmistakable strength about her.
"Thanks," she muttered, though her tone remained guarded. "But if this is some kind of trick, I’ll bite your hand off."
Lyan smiled, unfazed. "No tricks. Here, eat something." He handed her a small wrapped package, dried meat and bread inside. Her eyes widened at the sight, and without hesitation, she snatched it from his hand.
She tore into the food like a starving wolf, her eyes closing in relief as she chewed. Lyan and Althea watched, both taken aback by her voracious appetite. Althea leaned over, her voice low.
"It’s like she hasn’t eaten in weeks."
"Wouldn’t be surprised if that was true," Lyan replied, his eyes softening as he watched the woman devour the food. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy. Whatever she’d gone through, she clearly didn’t deserve this kind of treatment.
(You can see it in her eyes. She’s strong-willed, Master) Cynthia’s gentle voice murmured.
(But she’s been hurt deeply. She needs someone to trust.) (Cynthia)
Those are Cynthia’s words, but...
(I’m having difficulties in believing her words lately..) (Lyan)
(Well, I understand as this girls sometimes went even scarier than me in some occasions...) (Lilith)
(M-Master?) (Cynthia)
After finishing the last bite, the woman wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and looked up at them. There was a hint of vulnerability in her eyes now, the anger from earlier fading into something more weary. She cleared her throat, her gaze shifting between Lyan and Althea.
"Name’s Arielle. Arielle Briarwood," she said, her voice less abrasive.
"I suppose I should thank you for the food and clothes... but who are you two, really? And why are you helping me?"
Lyan stepped closer, his expression softening. "I’m Lyan, and this is Althea, my headmaid. We’re not with Hektor. In fact, we’re here to clean up the mess he left behind."
Arielle’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"Clean up the mess? What do you mean by that?"
Lyan sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Hektor’s no longer in power. Let’s just say he’s... been dealt with. And now we’re trying to help the people he’s wronged, to bring some order back to this place."
Arielle stared at him for a long moment, as if trying to gauge the truth of his words. Eventually, she nodded, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "Well, that’s good news, at least. That bastard deserved worse than whatever he got."
Althea tilted her head, curiosity in her eyes. "You mentioned you were an outcast... and something about being Hektor’s secretary? Care to elaborate?"
Arielle let out a bitter laugh, her eyes distant as she leaned back against the wall. "Yeah, I suppose I owe you that much. I come from a family of knights—the Briarwoods. They’re well-known for their service to the crown, but... I was always the odd one out. I wasn’t interested in fighting or wielding a sword. My talents were more suited to administration, to numbers and strategy. My family didn’t see much value in that. They wanted warriors, not... paper pushers."
She paused, her gaze dropping to the floor. "So, I left. Made my own way, and eventually ended up here. Hektor hired me as his secretary, and at first, I thought I’d finally found a place where I could be useful. But it didn’t take long for me to see how corrupt everything was. The officials, the guards... they were all in on it. Lining their pockets while the people starved."
Her voice grew hard, her eyes flashing with anger. "I couldn’t just sit by and watch, so I started keeping records. Documenting every bribe, every misuse of funds. I even tried to confront Hektor, told him that if he kept this up, he’d drive the city into the ground—that he was already going bankrupt."
Arielle let out a humorless chuckle, shaking her head. "Turns out, he didn’t appreciate that. Next thing I knew, I was down here, locked away so I couldn’t cause any more trouble."
Lyan listened intently, his respect for Arielle growing with every word. It took courage to stand up against someone like Hektor, especially knowing the risks. He exchanged a glance with Althea, who had her arms crossed, a thoughtful look on her face.
"You must have known what would happen if you confronted him," Althea said, her tone softer now. "Why did you do it?"
Arielle’s eyes met Althea’s, and for the first time, there was a hint of vulnerability in her gaze. "Because it was the right thing to do. Someone had to speak up. If not me, then who? I couldn’t just turn a blind eye."
Lyan felt a sense of admiration welling up inside him. This woman—despite everything she’d been through—had remained steadfast in her principles. She had a fire in her, a strength that he couldn’t help but respect.
(That’s exactly the kind of spirit we need, Lyan) Arturia’s voice cut through his thoughts, her tone approving.
(She’s not afraid to stand up for what’s right.) (Arturia)
Althea nudged Lyan gently, breaking him from his thoughts. She was giving him a knowing look, her lips curling into a teasing smile. "I see that look in your eyes, Milord. Is this because she’s beautiful?"
Lyan blinked, caught off guard. He cleared his throat, trying to hide the faint blush that crept up his neck. "It’s not... I mean, she is..." He shook his head, giving Althea a sheepish grin. "I think we may have found the domestic official we’ve been searching for."
Althea rolled her eyes but smiled, a hint of warmth in her gaze. "If you say so, I guess."
Lyan turned his attention back to Arielle, who was watching their exchange with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. He took a step forward, his expression earnest.
"Arielle Briarwood, you clearly have the skills and the heart for this work. Norhallow needs someone like you—someone who isn’t afraid to stand up for what’s right."
He paused, meeting her gaze. "Do you want to be a domestic official of my territory?"
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