Lord Summoner's Freedom Philosophy: Grimoire of Love
Chapter 405: The Unexpected Incident

Chapter 405: The Unexpected Incident

Lyan stood on the upper level of the royal lounge, leaning against the ornate railing as he watched Prince Erich and Julius heatedly debating over the map spread out on the table. He had already heard most of their plan—waiting for Varzadia to initiate war, using that as justification to launch a counterattack and invade their territory. It was bold, risky, and very much Prince Erich’s style.

"Your Highness, you’re overthinking this. If we let them make the first move, we’ll be able to rally everyone in Astellia behind us. They’ll see that Varzadia was the aggressor, and we won’t have to worry about divided loyalties," Julius argued, his voice steady but with a hint of impatience.

"But you’re overlooking the damage they could cause if they strike first," Erich countered, his expression growing more intense. "We can’t underestimate them, Julius. If they target our weakest points, even just for a few days, it could cripple us before we can properly respond."

"You’re being paranoid, Your Highness. We’ve been fortifying those areas for months. And we’ll have enough time to mobilize our forces," Julius shot back, frustration seeping into his tone.

Erich let out an exasperated sigh, shaking his head. "You don’t understand. They’re not going to strike us in a predictable way. We have to act now—before they have the chance to make a move."

Lyan listened, a faint smile tugging at his lips. They were both stubborn, and both had valid points. He respected them—Julius, the proud captain of the royal guards, and Erich, the crown prince who carried the weight of the kingdom on his shoulders. But their differing perspectives often led to clashes like this. Lyan decided to let them settle it between themselves. He turned away, letting his eyes drift down to the royal banquet below.

The ballroom was lively and bustling, filled with the hum of laughter, conversation, and the soft melodies of the musicians in the corner. Nobles, adorned in their finest attire, moved in fluid circles, their chatter light and merry. The flickering candlelight from the crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the scene, illuminating the smiles of those present.

Lyan’s gaze shifted, his eyes catching sight of Lord Garrick. He couldn’t help but shake his head. Garrick looked like a fish out of water—uncomfortable, awkward, and clearly on edge. His eyes darted around the room, never settling for long. The man was nervous, as if expecting something to happen at any moment. His fingers were wrapped tightly around the stem of his wine glass, and his shoulders were stiff, like he was holding his breath.

"Just how stupid and more obvious can you be, Garrick?" Lyan muttered under his breath, unable to hide the hint of amusement in his tone. It was painfully obvious that Garrick had something to hide. Anyone with half a mind could see that the man was terrified—of what, Lyan wasn’t entirely sure yet, but he had a feeling it was related to his recent activities.

As he continued watching, Lyan’s gaze drifted across the ballroom, taking in the other guests. The noblewomen, their elaborate gowns flowing as they moved, their laughter light and graceful, were surrounded by a group of fascinated noblemen, all competing for their attention. And then there were his girls—Wilhelmina, Belle, Alina, Xena, and Josephine—each of them blending seamlessly with the other noblewomen, but standing out all the same.

Wilhelmina was commanding in her presence, her deep blue gown hugging her figure perfectly, her laughter genuine as she spoke with a group of noblewomen. Belle, animated and carefree, had gathered a small crowd around her, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she spoke. Alina and Xena were inseparable, laughing and gesturing animatedly as they mingled. And Josephine, always the epitome of elegance, carried herself with grace, her every word carefully chosen.

Lyan let his gaze linger on them a bit longer than he intended, his eyes appreciating the way their gowns accentuated their forms, the brightness of their smiles. He knew he shouldn’t stare, but it was hard not to. They were beautiful, and they were his—his partners, his family. His heart swelled with pride, mixed with a hint of something else. He quickly cleared his throat, trying to refocus his attention.

(Look, look. Master is gobbling his eyes on women again~) (Lilith)

(Dont mention it, Lilith) (Hestia)

Lyan sighed, deciding to ignore them. He turned his eyes back to the banquet—just in time to see Garrick raise his glass to his lips.

Garrick took a sip, and for a moment, everything seemed normal. But then his face twisted in pain. He gasped, the wine glass slipping from his hand and shattering on the floor. The sudden noise drew the attention of everyone around him, and the music came to an abrupt halt. Heads turned, conversations stopped, and all eyes focused on Garrick as he clutched his throat, his face turning a sickly shade of purple.

He staggered backward, choking, his eyes wide with panic. He tried to call out, but no sound came. The veins in his neck bulged as he struggled for air, his body convulsing. Within moments, his legs gave out beneath him, and he collapsed to the ground. His struggles grew weaker, and finally, they stopped altogether. He lay still, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.

The entire ballroom was silent, the air thick with shock and disbelief. No one moved, no one spoke. It was as if time had stopped, the image of Garrick’s lifeless body frozen in everyone’s minds.

Gasps rippled through the crowd, breaking the silence. Murmurs of fear and confusion began to rise, nobles looking around, their eyes wide with panic. Some began to back away, putting distance between themselves and Garrick’s body. Whispers of poison filled the air, and the atmosphere shifted—the once lively banquet now overshadowed by fear.

Julius, who had been standing near the royal platform, quickly stepped forward, raising his voice to calm the crowd. "Everyone, please remain calm!" he called, his tone firm, carrying authority. "No one is to leave the room!" He motioned to the royal guards, who immediately moved to block the exits, ensuring that no one tried to slip away.

The nobles hesitated, looking between each other and the guards, uncertain of what to do. Some of them began to panic, their voices rising as they demanded answers. Julius stepped forward again, his expression hardening. "Please! We will get to the bottom of this, but I need everyone to stay calm and remain where they are!"

Prince Erich, who had been observing from the platform, moved to Julius’s side, his eyes scanning the room. "I ask for your cooperation," he said, his voice carrying across the hall. "We must determine what has happened here tonight. No one is to leave until we have answers."

The nobles reluctantly quieted down, though the tension in the air remained palpable. Lyan took a deep breath, his eyes narrowing as he began to make his way down from the upper level. He could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on him—someone had been poisoned, and it had happened right under everyone’s noses. Whoever was responsible had to be close.

As Lyan moved through the crowd, his gaze briefly met each of his female companions. Wilhelmina, Belle, Surena, Emilia, and the others. Each of them gave a subtle shake of their head, signaling that none of them had seen anything suspicious or had been involved in this sudden incident. It was reassuring, but it also meant that they were dealing with someone who was highly skilled—someone who knew how to act without being seen.

Lyan approached Julius, who was now standing near Garrick’s body, his expression grim. "May I?" Lyan asked, gesturing towards the body.

Julius looked at him, then nodded, stepping aside. "Of course. Any insight you can provide would be appreciated," he said, his tone respectful.

Lyan knelt beside Garrick’s lifeless body, his eyes sharp as he began his examination. He reached for Garrick’s neck, pressing his fingers against the skin to check for a pulse. As expected, there was none. He noted the discoloration—a deep purple—that spread across Garrick’s neck and face. The veins were swollen, almost grotesquely so, indicating a severe reaction to something.

He then turned his attention to the spilled wine glass, leaning in close to examine the liquid that had pooled on the floor. There was no obvious discoloration, no unusual residue. But Lyan wasn’t convinced. He leaned in closer to Garrick’s face, noting the slight discoloration of his lips and the faint, bitter smell that lingered. It was a scent he recognized—a toxin, fast-acting and deadly.

(It’s obviously poison. But the question is what type, and who)

Cynthia’s voice was calm, analytical, as she observed through his eyes.

(It’s a potent one too,)

Lyan thought back.

(Whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing, to be able to predict that he will take that exact glass of wine.)

As he continued his examination, Lyan let his gaze wander, subtly glancing at the surrounding nobles. Most of them were in shock, their faces pale as they stared at Garrick’s body. But a few stood out—they were whispering to each other, their expressions nervous, their eyes darting around the room. There was fear in their eyes, yes, but there was something else too—guilt. A few of them were sweating, their hands trembling slightly. It was subtle, but Lyan’s trained eyes picked up on it.

He rose from Garrick’s body, his mind piecing together the details—Garrick’s anxiety throughout the night, the bitter scent on his lips, the few nobles who seemed unusually on edge. It was a planned murder, of that he was certain. But by whom, and why?

He took in every detail—Garrick’s clothes, his boots, the positioning of his body, the expressions of the nobles around him. Nothing escaped his notice, every small detail adding to the puzzle in his mind.

As he stood there, his gaze met Wilhelmina’s across the room. She was watching him closely, her eyes filled with understanding. She gave a slight nod, and Lyan knew that she had reached the same conclusion. He then glanced at Alicia, who was standing near the royal platform, her eyes sharp as she took in the scene. She too met his gaze, nodding slightly. Prince Erich, who had been observing everything from a distance, also stepped closer, his expression thoughtful.

Lyan couldn’t help but feel a sense of admiration for them—Wilhelmina, Alicia, and Erich. They were intelligent, quick to understand the situation, and able to draw conclusions just as he had. He turned his attention back to the room, his expression hardening.

"This is undoubtedly a planned murder," Lyan said, his voice carrying across the room, silencing the remaining whispers. "By someone inside here."