Lord Summoner's Freedom Philosophy: Grimoire of Love
Chapter 422: The First Big Contact

Chapter 422: The First Big Contact

The command tent was alive with tension, a thick air of urgency hanging over everyone inside. Lyan stood around the large map table with Commander Arnold, Julius, Prince Erich, and other key figures. The map was spread out across the table, showing the intricate details of the terrain, the enemy’s movements, and their own forces. Small figurines were positioned across the surface, marking critical points, lines of defense, and Varzadian advances. Everyone’s eyes were fixed on Erich, who stood at the head of the table, his expression a blend of focus and determination.

"Alright, everyone," Erich began, pointing to the map, his voice commanding immediate attention. "The Varzadian forces are advancing faster than expected, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t ready for them. This is how we’ll meet them." He gestured to the marked positions, tapping specific points of the terrain. "We’re dividing our forces into two groups. The first group will hold the border—we will establish strong defensive lines at these natural chokepoints. Here and here," he pointed to two narrow passes, "will be our main positions. The terrain favors us—it’s narrow, and we can funnel their forces, reduce their advantage in numbers, and hold them off with minimal casualties."

Commander Arnold nodded, his eyes narrowing as he studied the map. "We need to make sure those choke points are well-fortified. Archers stationed on these ridges," he pointed to the elevated sections around the passes, "will give us the advantage in the first wave. If we can hold them here long enough, they’ll lose momentum."

Erich continued, his voice steady and confident. "The second group will act as a diversionary force. We’ll lure them into a trap, drawing them into the forested area here." He traced a line on the map, showing the route. "Once they’re deep enough, we have forces ready to spring from the forest and strike them from both flanks. We’ll keep them off balance, wear them down slowly, piece by piece. This is not a battle to win immediately. This is a war of attrition. We are to exhaust them, minimize our losses, and make them pay for every inch they try to take."

Lyan studied the map, his gaze moving over the positions, his mind already running through the scenarios. He could see the plan coming together, how each piece fit, how each movement would lead to the next. It was clever, and it played to their strengths. The key was patience, the ability to wear the enemy down without giving them a clear target. He could already see the frustration on the Varzadian commander’s face as their forces were funneled into one tight spot after another.

Julius spoke up, pointing towards the supply lines marked on the map. "We need to ensure our supply lines are kept secure. With a strategy like this, it might take days, maybe weeks, to fully break their advance. We can’t risk running low on provisions. The troops need to be fed, and the wounded cared for. I’ve already arranged for additional caravans from the capital."

Commander Arnold added, "Communication will be crucial. We’ll use messengers, but we also need a backup. Our signalers with mirrors on the ridges can communicate across distances. It’s old-fashioned, but it’s reliable."

Erich nodded, his eyes sweeping across the gathered commanders. "Good. Remember, our goal is not to push them back in one single move but to make every inch they try to take as costly as possible. They’ll think they’re gaining ground, but we’ll be bleeding them dry as they advance. Hold your positions, wait for the signals, and trust each other. The key to this battle is unity."

Lyan could feel the determination in the tent, the sense of purpose settling over each of them. He spoke up, his voice calm. "And if they manage to break through any of our positions?" He knew better than to assume everything would go exactly as planned.

Erich met Lyan’s eyes, a glint of understanding there. "If they break through, we regroup at the fallback point here," he pointed to a more defensible position further back. "We don’t get caught in a fight we can’t win. We pull back, we regroup, and we hit them again. Flexibility is key."

Arnold chimed in, his tone grim. "They outnumber us, but we have the terrain, and we have the advantage of preparation. The Varzadian commander will likely grow impatient, and that’s when we strike hardest."

Lyan nodded, a small smile playing at his lips. It was a solid plan—risky, but with the right execution, they could make this work. He looked around the tent, seeing the nods of the other commanders, the resolve in their eyes. They were ready to see this through.

Erich’s voice softened slightly as he addressed the gathered men. "I know many of you have families back home. I know what’s at stake. But I also know the strength in each of you. We fight not just for a kingdom, but for those we love. We will face them together, and we will prevail." His words hung in the air, a quiet determination settling over the room.

The commanders gave their salutes, and one by one, they left the tent to relay their orders. Lyan remained a moment longer, his eyes still on the map. Erich caught his gaze, a knowing look passing between them.

"Are you ready for this, Lyan?" Erich asked, his voice low.

Lyan looked up, his eyes meeting Erich’s. "Ready as I’ll ever be," he replied, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "Just make sure to keep my girls out of the worst of it."

Erich nodded, a small smile touching his lips. "I will. Just make sure you come back to them."

With that, Lyan left the tent, stepping into the cool morning air. The camp was already alive with activity, soldiers moving with purpose, the preparations for battle well underway.

Lyan gathered his elite forces, the Valkyries, and Wilhelmina, his presence a calm but commanding force. They moved swiftly to their assigned positions, their armor and weapons ready, their eyes filled with determination. Wilhelmina walked beside Lyan, her eyes sharp as she watched the soldiers take up their positions.

"How are you feeling about this plan?" she asked, her voice low enough that only Lyan could hear.

Lyan gave a small shrug, his eyes scanning the horizon. "It’s risky, but it’s our best shot. If we can hold them off long enough, they’ll start making mistakes. And that’s when we’ll strike."

Wilhelmina nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Just be careful out there. We can’t afford to lose you."

Lyan gave her a sideways glance, a hint of a smile touching his lips. "I could say the same to you. Just watch my back, and I’ll watch yours."

Prince Erich moved through the camp, stopping by groups of soldiers, his voice carrying over the noise of the preparations. He spoke with conviction, his words resonating with those around him, giving them the boost they needed. He reminded them of their strength, their unity, and the reason they fought—for their families, their friends, their home. As he passed by Lyan’s forces, he gave a nod, his gaze meeting Lyan’s briefly before moving on, his presence a steadying influence in the chaos of the camp.

Lyan gathered his close companions one last time before they moved to their respective positions. He looked at each of them—Belle, Xena, Alina, Raine, Ravia—the people he trusted more than anyone else in the world. He could see the worry in their eyes, the determination that burned beneath it.

"Alright, listen up," Lyan said, his voice calm but carrying an edge of urgency. "I need all of you to stick to the plan. No direct combat unless it’s absolutely necessary. Your role is to provide support from behind, and that’s where I need you. Stay safe, and stay focused."

Belle frowned, her arms crossed over her chest. "You’re always trying to keep us out of the fight. You think we can’t handle ourselves?"

Lyan gave her a small smile, shaking his head. "I know you can handle yourselves, Belle. That’s not the point. The point is that I need you alive. All of you. And the best way to do that is for you to stay where you can support us without getting caught in the middle of the worst of it."

Alina stepped forward, her eyes softening. "We trust you, Lyan. But you have to promise you’ll come back to us."

Lyan looked at her, then at the rest of them, his gaze steady. "I’ll come back," he said, his voice filled with conviction. "Just do your part, and I’ll do mine."

There was a moment of silence, and then they all nodded. Lyan could see the reluctance in their eyes, but they trusted him. That was enough.

Scouts reported the movement of the Varzadian forces not long after. Just as Erich had predicted, they were advancing, their main force moving toward the narrow passes. The terrain worked in Astellia’s favor—the narrow passes and ridges forced the Varzadian troops into disadvantageous positions, their numbers becoming a hindrance rather than an advantage.

Lyan stood at the front of his vanguard, his eyes fixed on the advancing enemy. The archers stationed on the ridges were ready, their bows drawn, the strings taut. Lyan raised his hand, his gaze sharp, his mind focused. He waited, watching as the Varzadian forces moved into range. Then, with a swift motion, he brought his hand down.

"Loose!" he shouted, his voice carrying over the battlefield.

The sound of arrows being released filled the air, the projectiles arcing through the sky before raining down on the advancing Varzadian forces. Cries of pain and confusion erupted from their lines as the arrows found their marks, the enemy scrambling to respond. Lyan could see the disarray, the sudden panic that spread through their ranks as they tried to adjust to the unexpected attack.

The Varzadian archers attempted to respond, but the difficult terrain made it hard for them to find their marks. Their arrows fell short or went wide, their accuracy hampered by the uneven ground and the cover provided by the ridges.

Lyan turned to his vanguard, his gaze steady. "Advance!" he called, his voice filled with authority.

His elite forces moved forward, their steps steady and controlled. They struck quickly, their attacks precise, dealing significant damage to the enemy before retreating back to their defensive lines. It was a hit-and-run tactic, designed to frustrate the enemy, to draw them in deeper, to make them believe they had the upper hand.

The Varzadian commander, clearly frustrated by the hit-and-run tactics, ordered a full advance. Lyan could see the desperation in their movements, the impatience that had taken hold. It was exactly what they had planned for.

The Astellian forces began to fall back, their movements deliberate, leading the enemy further into the difficult terrain. Lyan could see the Varzadian troops following, their formation becoming more scattered as they moved deeper into the narrow passes and the forested areas.

When the Varzadian forces were deep enough, Erich gave the signal. From their hidden positions in the forest, Astellian forces emerged, striking the Varzadians from both flanks. The enemy was caught off guard, their formation breaking under the unexpected assault. The confusion spread quickly, their lines faltering as they tried to respond to the sudden attack from multiple directions.

Belle, Alina, and the other mages were positioned at the rear, their eyes focused as they chanted their spells. Barriers rose up, blocking the enemy’s path, while illusions confused their ranks, making it difficult for them to tell friend from foe. Bolts of magic shot through the air, striking the Varzadian soldiers, adding to the chaos.

Lyan moved with his vanguard, his glaive sweeping through the enemy lines, his movements fluid and precise. He could see the fear in their eyes, the desperation as they tried to fight back. But they were outmatched, their formation broken, their morale crumbling.

The battle raged on, the Astellian forces pressing their advantage, their movements coordinated and relentless. The Varzadians were being worn down, their numbers dwindling, their will to fight slowly eroding under the constant pressure.

Lyan paused for a moment, his eyes scanning the battlefield. He could see the Varzadian commander, his face twisted in frustration as he shouted orders, trying to regain control. Lyan knew this was just the beginning—a war of attrition, just as Erich had said. They would bleed the enemy dry, wear them down until they had nothing left.

He looked to his companions, their eyes meeting his, a silent understanding passing between them. This was only the first step. The real battle was still to come.

Lyan took a deep breath, his gaze hardening as he looked back at the enemy. "Now," he said, his voice low but filled with determination, "the first real battle begins."