Lord Summoner's Freedom Philosophy: Grimoire of Love
Chapter 415: The Night Before The Storm

Chapter 415: The Night Before The Storm

Lyan stood quietly amidst the slumbering figures of his companions. The soft glow of moonlight spilled through the curtains, illuminating the serene scene. The grand room was filled with a sense of intimacy and quiet contentment, despite the chaotic array of bodies scattered across the plush carpets and comfortable couches. He took a deep breath, letting the sense of peace wash over him for just a moment before he started his task.

Each of his companions lay in various states of rest, exhaustion finally catching up after a long, passionate night. Xena, her usually mischievous expression softened in sleep, was curled up on a rug by the fireplace, her breathing steady. Beside her, Alina and Belle were sprawled across one of the oversized sofas, their limbs tangled in a comfortable mess. Josephine, Raine, and Ravia were gathered near the large bed, their heads resting on pillows, with Clarisse stretched out next to them, her arm thrown lazily across Raine’s back.

The mountain tribe women—Lara, Tara, and Sigrid—lay close to each other on a makeshift bedding of blankets, their expressions relaxed and content. Tesha, the little halfling, had curled up in a small nook beside the window, her small body hidden under a thick, warm quilt. Of course, she is not invited in the passionate night, but she slips in and watched without him knowing.

This girl’s sneaky skills has gone quite a lot, isn’t she?

Wilhelmina, Solia, Emilia, Surena, and Alice were scattered across the remaining couches and floor space, each one lost in a peaceful slumber.

Lyan moved carefully through the room, lifting each woman in his arms and placing them in more comfortable positions. He gently picked up Xena, her body limp and relaxed, and laid her on one of the large, plush sofas. Her eyes fluttered open for a brief moment, her gaze meeting his. She gave a sleepy smile before drifting back to sleep, her body sinking into the cushions.

He repeated this with each of them, his movements tender and deliberate. He took his time, making sure each one was settled comfortably, adjusting pillows and blankets as needed. When he reached Belle, he paused for a moment, his gaze lingering on her face. Her brows were slightly furrowed even in sleep, and he smoothed them gently with his thumb, a soft smile touching his lips. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "For being by my side."

He continued, picking up Tesha from her nook by the window and placing her in a more comfortable position on a couch, tucking the quilt around her small form. He brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his heart swelling with affection for each of them. These women had chosen to follow him, to support him, and he knew that he was incredibly fortunate to have them.

Alice, who was usually full of energy and witty remarks, looked almost childlike as she slept, her face relaxed, her breathing steady. Lyan gently lifted her from the floor, cradling her in his arms for a moment before laying her down on one of the beds. He looked down at her, his expression softening. "You always manage to keep us all in line, don’t you?" he murmured, his voice filled with affection.

When everyone was finally settled, Lyan stood back, his gaze sweeping across the room. The sight of all of them sleeping peacefully filled him with a deep sense of contentment, but also a sense of responsibility. He knew the dangers that lay ahead, and he was determined to protect them all, no matter the cost. He whispered a final "Thank you" to each of them, his voice filled with gratitude and love, before quietly slipping out of the room.

The mansion was silent as Lyan made his way through the dimly lit corridors, his steps almost soundless on the soft carpet. He moved with purpose, his mind filled with thoughts of the future. The war was inevitable, and there was much to be done. He needed answers—and perhaps, the man waiting for him on the roof of the guest estate could provide them.

Lyan stepped out into the garden, the cool night air brushing against his skin. The garden was bathed in moonlight, the foliage casting long shadows across the stone pathways. He moved silently through the garden, his gaze drifting upwards to the roof of the guest estate. He could see a figure there, leaning against the stone railing, silhouetted against the night sky.

With practiced ease, Lyan climbed to the roof, his movements fluid and swift. As he reached the top, he found Prince Erich waiting, his gaze fixed on the city below. The lights of Astellia spread out before them like a sea of stars, the quiet of the night broken only by the distant sounds of the city.

Erich turned as Lyan approached, his lips curling into a half-smile. "Quite the audacity you have, Lyan," he said, his voice carrying a note of amusement. "Flirting with all of your women and making me wait for hours."

Lyan smirked, leaning against the railing beside Erich. "Seems like the prince isn’t quite an adult yet," he teased, his tone light. He glanced at Erich, his eyes glinting mischievously. "Did you fancy one of them, perhaps? I won’t give any of them up, you know. I’d kill anyone who tries to touch them."

Erich rolled his eyes, his expression a mix of irritation and amusement. "As if I would touch them," he muttered, shaking his head. "You really are insufferable sometimes."

Lyan chuckled, his gaze shifting to the city below. The two of them stood in silence for a moment, the weight of the night pressing down on them. The city looked peaceful, the lights flickering like stars, the streets empty and quiet. Erich’s expression softened as he looked out over Astellia, his eyes filled with a mixture of longing and sadness.

"It’s beautiful, isn’t it?" Erich said, his voice barely above a whisper. "The city, the lights, the peace. It’s moments like this that make me wish it could last forever. That we could just... live without worrying about what’s coming next."

Lyan glanced at him, his expression thoughtful. He had known Erich for a long time, ever since their days as mercenaries. Back then, Erich had been different—a young man with a fire in his heart, a determination to protect those he cared about. And now, standing here, Lyan could still see that fire, burning brightly, even in the face of uncertainty.

"But it’s just an ideal, isn’t it?" Erich continued, his voice tinged with bitterness. "There are always factors beyond our control. Always threats that loom over us, waiting to take away what we’ve built. I can’t let that happen, Lyan. I won’t let it happen."

Lyan watched him, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

(You too, have always been like this, haven’t you?)

Cynthia’s voice echoed softly in his mind, her tone filled with a mixture of fondness and sadness.

(A fire that refuses to be extinguished.)

Lyan nodded slightly, his gaze drifting back to the city. He could feel the determination in Erich’s words, the weight of his responsibilities. He knew what it was like—the burden of leadership, the desire to protect those who looked to you for guidance.

His eyes shifted, his senses picking up on a presence nearby. Vilgira Void, Erich’s personal bodyguard, was hiding in the shadows, watching over the prince. Lyan’s gaze flickered to a distant corner of the garden, a small smirk playing on his lips. He knew that Abraham—or Alfred, as he was known to most—was also keeping watch, his keen eyes never leaving Vilgira.

Vilgira seemed uneasy, his instincts telling him he was being watched, but he couldn’t pinpoint the source. As expected of Abraham—his presence was almost undetectable, even to someone as skilled as Vilgira. Lyan’s smirk widened, amusement glinting in his eyes.

"Why did you ask me to come here?" Lyan asked, his voice breaking the silence. He turned to Erich, his expression becoming serious. "You slipped a note into my pocket during the banquet. What’s this all about?"

Erich sighed, his gaze still fixed on the city. "The upcoming war may not be the last," he said, his voice heavy. "The central plains are rich in resources, and that makes them a target. The relationships between neighboring nations are... strained, to say the least. I wanted to make sure I could count on you, Lyan. Not just for this war, but for whatever comes next."

Lyan was silent for a moment, his eyes studying Erich’s face. He could see the worry there, the fear of what lay ahead. He reached out, placing a hand on Erich’s shoulder, his expression softening.

"I’m not the type to abandon ship when it starts sinking," Lyan said, his voice filled with warmth. "I’d rather help patch the ship and see the journey through to the end."

Erich turned to look at him, a smile tugging at his lips. "I guess that suits you well," he said, his voice filled with gratitude. He paused, his expression becoming more serious. "There’s something else. I need you to be careful, Lyan. Don’t reveal your summoner powers just yet. Not until the time is right."

Lyan raised an eyebrow, his gaze questioning. "Why?"

"The less they know about you, the better," Erich said. "Your abilities are powerful, but they also make you a target. We can’t afford to draw attention to you—not yet." He paused, his gaze meeting Lyan’s. "Just... wait. Until you’re at least at Count rank. Then, maybe, we can show them what you’re really capable of."

Lyan was silent, his mind flashing back to the conversation he had with Alice and Wilhelmina. They had said the same thing—to wait until he reached Count rank before revealing his summoner abilities. He realized, in that moment, that Erich had called him here, in the dead of night, just to warn him. A sense of gratitude filled him, and he nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Thank you," Lyan said, his voice sincere.

Erich pulled up the hood of his cloak, his expression softening. "Take care, Lyan," he said, his voice filled with warmth. He gave Lyan one last smile before leaping off the roof, his form disappearing into the night, Vilgira following closely behind.

Lyan watched them go, his gaze lingering on the spot where they had disappeared. As soon as they were gone, Abraham appeared beside him, his presence almost ghost-like.

"Is something the matter, Milord?" Abraham asked, his voice calm.

Lyan shook his head, his gaze shifting to the city below. "Gramps," he said, his voice filled with a mixture of determination and resignation. "I guess this is going to be a long fight."

Abraham nodded, his expression thoughtful. "I suppose it is, Milord."