Lord Summoner's Freedom Philosophy: Grimoire of Love
Chapter 413: The Full Inner Circle

Chapter 413: The Full Inner Circle

The soft glow of candlelight bathed Prince Erich’s private lounge in a golden hue, casting long shadows that seemed to dance along the elegantly furnished walls. The room, with its plush armchairs and meticulously carved wooden table, exuded an atmosphere of comfort and refinement. Lyan sat relaxed in one of the deep armchairs, a glass of rich, dark wine resting in his hand. He twirled the glass absentmindedly, his sharp eyes fixed on the liquid as it swirled. A faint smile touched his lips, and he took a slow sip, savoring the taste.

Standing a few steps away, Ravia and Raine stood with their hands clasped, their posture firm but not rigid. The siblings of death, the butlers of House Evocatore, were always prepared, always vigilant. Their recent mission had been taxing, yet they showed no signs of exhaustion. Raine’s dark eyes were calm, while Ravia’s silver gaze held its usual analytical sharpness.

Lyan looked up, his eyes meeting theirs. "You did well," he said, his voice carrying a note of warmth that was rarely heard. "Bringing in the assassin alive couldn’t have been easy, especially with the chaos they caused last night. You managed to capture the only survivor, after all."

Ravia inclined her head respectfully. "Thank you, Lyan," she said. Her sister, Raine, mirrored the gesture, her expression softening slightly. There was a sense of pride in their eyes, a quiet acknowledgment of their success. Lyan gestured towards the empty chairs nearby. "Sit down," he said, his tone almost casual. "You deserve a rest."

Ravia’s lips quirked up in a faint smile, and Raine exchanged a quick glance with her sister. "Butlers don’t sit with their masters," Raine said, her voice carrying a hint of amusement.

Lyan let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head slightly. "How cheeky," he muttered, his eyes gleaming with a hint of mischief. "I swear, one of these days, you’ll forget that whole ’butler’ nonsense and just take a seat."

Before they could respond, the door to the lounge swung open, and Prince Erich entered, his presence commanding attention. He wore a dark, embroidered tunic, his attire formal but with an air of comfort, suitable for a private meeting like this. His gaze swept across the room, taking in Lyan, Ravia, and Raine, and he gave a nod of acknowledgment.

"I see we’re all here," Erich said, his voice smooth, carrying a hint of relief. He walked over to the large armchair opposite Lyan and took a seat, resting his hands on the armrests. "I’ve already informed the nobles. There’s going to be a second banquet and meeting tomorrow." He paused, his eyes meeting Lyan’s, a knowing glint in his gaze.

"For now, we should focus on processing what we’ve gathered and strategizing our next move."

Lyan studied Erich for a moment, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "You already knew this might happen, didn’t you? You were prepared." He set his glass down on the table, leaning forward slightly, his gaze sharp. "Why waste time with the pleasantries? How about you summon our big commander already?"

Erich’s lips curved into a knowing smile, his eyes twinkling with amusement. He turned his head towards the door, raising his hand in a gesture. "Very well," he said, a note of anticipation in his voice.

The door opened once more, and Commander Arnold stepped into the room, his presence radiating authority. The first thing that caught Lyan’s eye was the change in his armor. It gleamed with a faint, magical glow, enchanted runes etched along its surface, and his weapons seemed to radiate power, subtle but unmistakable. Arnold’s grin was wide, and he spread his arms theatrically.

"Surprise," Arnold said, his voice filled with humor. He looked directly at Lyan, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Thought we’d catch you off guard."

Lyan, for his part, merely arched an eyebrow, a smirk pulling at his lips. "As if," he replied, his voice laced with mock disdain. He gestured towards the armor, the magic-infused steel catching the candlelight. "What’s all this? You’re the commander again, aren’t you? I suppose Erich’s already decided your place in the court?"

Erich nodded, his eyes meeting Arnold’s before turning to Lyan. "That’s right. Commander Arnold will be taking up the position of Commander of the Central Army of Astellia. We’ve also decided on a new title that befits his role." Erich’s voice was steady, filled with a quiet confidence.

Arnold stepped forward, bowing slightly, the grin never leaving his face. "It’s an honor," he said, his tone respectful, but there was a glint of excitement in his eyes.

Lyan chuckled, shaking his head. "Lucky you," he said, leaning back in his chair. His gaze shifted towards Erich, his expression softening. "Seems like you’re getting all your pieces in place."

Erich’s smile widened, but he quickly turned serious, leaning forward, his eyes focusing on the group gathered. "Now that we’re all here, let’s get down to business," he said, his voice carrying an edge of authority. "We’ve mobilized fifteen thousand soldiers. Fortunately, we anticipated an incident like this, so the forces are ready for immediate action."

Of course, it’s not unexpected.

It’s Prince Erich we’re talking talking about, and Lyan know that this guy always planned several steps ahead with his boldness.

Lyan nodded, his fingers tapping lightly against the armrest. He could sense the urgency in Erich’s tone, the weight of the responsibility pressing down on his shoulders. This wasn’t just about retaliation; it was about survival and strategy, and Erich knew that.

"This incident has sparked outrage among the nobles," Erich continued. "It’s the perfect opportunity to gain their support. With their anger still fresh, we can leverage it to encourage them to contribute their soldiers to our cause." He paused, glancing at Lyan, his expression thoughtful. "But there’s a potential problem. The noble faction will undoubtedly want to compete for the position of commander."

Lyan raised an eyebrow, his eyes narrowing slightly. "A struggle for power, then? Not surprising." He glanced over at Arnold, a small smirk on his face. "I’m guessing you have something in mind to deal with that?"

Erich nodded, his gaze steady. "I’ve already considered that. The royal faction has been gaining strength, especially after the fall of Duke Hektor. The noble faction has lost some of its most influential supporters, and the balance of power has shifted. We can use that to our advantage."

Arnold folded his arms across his chest, his gaze thoughtful. "The weakened state of the nobles means we can offer them a chance to prove themselves. Those who still have power will be eager to contribute, and we can use that eagerness to consolidate our position." He paused, glancing at Lyan. "It’s all about playing the right cards."

Lyan listened, his eyes narrowing as he considered the implications. The royal faction growing stronger was a double-edged sword—it meant more power to resist Varzadia, but it also meant navigating through a web of politics, appeasing the nobles who would inevitably feel threatened by the shift.

"The question is," Erich continued, his eyes scanning the room, "do we launch an offensive or wait for Varzadia to make the first move?"

Lyan leaned forward, his gaze meeting Erich’s. "We let them make the first move," he said, his voice calm, yet carrying a hint of edge. "They want a war. Let them attack, burn something, create the illusion of success. Then we strike—hard and fast. When they think they have the upper hand, we pull the rug out from under them."

Arnold nodded, his expression thoughtful. "I had the same thought," he said, a grin spreading across his face. He turned to look at Julius, who had been standing silently by the door. Julius sighed and reached into his pocket, pulling out a gold coin and tossing it to Arnold. Arnold caught it effortlessly, his grin widening.

"You two have been betting... on my decisions?" Lyan asked, his tone somewhere between disbelief and amusement. His eyes narrowed slightly, though a smirk tugged at his lips.

Julius shrugged, a faint smile on his face. "Just a little wager," he said, his tone light. "Had to keep things interesting, Baron,"

Lyan shook his head, muttering something under his breath, though the amusement in his eyes was unmistakable.

Erich cleared his throat, his expression serious once more as he brought the conversation back to the matter at hand. "We need to be ready to act as soon as Varzadia makes their move. The soldiers are ready, and we have our plans in place. We need to make sure our logistics are flawless—food, supplies, medical support. Every aspect must be prepared."

Arnold nodded. "We’ve already coordinated with the logistics division. Supplies are being gathered, and the support units are ready. Once we receive word of an attack, we’ll be able to mobilize immediately."

Julius chimed in, his voice calm but confident. "The key is to maintain a strong supply line. If we can ensure that our forces are well-supported, they’ll be able to hold their positions and strike back effectively."

Erich turned his gaze to Lyan, his expression softening slightly. "I’m telling you all of this because I trust you, Lyan. You’ve been instrumental in everything we’ve achieved so far." He paused, his eyes meeting Lyan’s. "I’m officially inviting you to be part of my inner circle. Though, to be fair, you’ve been part of it from the very beginning."

Lyan looked at Erich, a slight smile touching his lips. He nodded, his eyes glinting with determination. "Of course," he said simply, his voice carrying a note of sincerity.

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of Erich’s words settling in. The atmosphere was thick with unspoken understanding, a sense of camaraderie that had formed through shared struggles and victories. They were in this together, and they all knew what was at stake.

Erich took a deep breath, his gaze shifting to the far corner of the room, where a lone figure sat bound, the flickering candlelight casting eerie shadows across his face. The assassin, captured by Ravia and Raine, was slumped in the chair, his head bowed, his eyes hidden beneath the shadow of his hood.

Erich’s gaze hardened, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the assassin. "Now," he said, his voice cold, cutting through the silence, "what should we do with this one?"

The room fell into an uneasy silence, the flickering candles casting wavering shadows as everyone turned their attention to the bound figure. The assassin remained still, his breathing shallow, his fate hanging in the balance. The tension was palpable, the air thick with the weight of the decision