Lord Summoner's Freedom Philosophy: Grimoire of Love-Chapter 452: The Cracks Beneath The Walls (1)

The first gray light seeped over Lisban’s battered ramparts, spilling mist across the wet grass and winding through the torn banners above the walls. Each thread of those half-tattered standards fluttered in the chill dawn breeze, ghostly reminders of the city’s pride now broken. Somewhere in the distance, a trumpet gave a tired cry—long notes that trembled with exhaustion, yet held the stubborn insistence of soldiers who refused to break. Lyan stood at the center of the ruined courtyard, his cloak soaked through with silver mist, the braided edging darkening under the weight of water. His hands were clasped neatly behind his back, fingers laced, betraying none of the turmoil in his chest.

Before him, his commanders formed a semicircle of steel and resolve. Raine’s green eyes glinted even in the pale light; she rocked slightly on one boot, as though itching for the charge to come. Ravia’s stance was loose, ready, every muscle poised like a spring; her dark hair clung damply to her forehead. Josephine leaned on one hip, flask in hand, boots planted wide—an image of playful defiance even now. Wilhelmina’s precise posture and crisp armor set a sharp contrast to the surrounding ruin; she flipped her ledger closed as though it were a shield. Alice stood cool and watchful, her braid swinging once as she shifted weight from foot to foot. Emilia’s gentle face held fierce determination; her pouch of herbs at her belt looked as ready as any sword. Surena’s broad shoulders and towering frame caught the torchlight, casting long shadows on the cobbles. Xena balanced a dagger on her fingertip, spinning it with the casual grace of someone who had never known fear. Alina clutched a rolled chart in one hand, her pale eyes sparkling as she traced imaginary routes. Belle lingered at the edge, hands folded behind her, her silver hair rippling like water in the torch glow.

A heavy silence settled over them, as if even the mist held its breath. In that pause, Lyan saw the cracks: the tightening of Raine’s grip on her lance, the way Ravia’s nostrils flared slightly as she drew in the damp air, Josephine’s half-raised eyebrow as if wondering which joke would break first, Wilhelmina’s subtle swallow before she squared her shoulders again. Alice’s jaw flexed reflexively, Emilia’s lips pressed together in a thin line. Surena’s hand hovered near her sword pommel; Xena’s spinning stopped for a beat, dagger poised but unmoving; Alina’s fingers trembled as she adjusted her chart; Belle let out a slow breath, knuckles whitening on her cloak.

Yet none of them wavered. Loyalty welded their spines straighter than any smith. Lyan could almost feel the pulse of their resolve beating in the mist.

Raine broke the hush with a teasing lilt. "You planning to make the enemy blind with your cavalry showmanship again? They’re still rubbing dust out of their eyes from yesterday’s charge."

Surena’s lips quirked. "Blinding’s part of the strategy. Unlike some people who spend half the charge counting how many braids they’ve got loose."

(And yet she fascinates me...) Griselda mused in Lyan’s mind.

Belle laughed, the sound bright as steel on stone. "Speaking of which, Josephine, how’s your midnight ledger dive going? Did the ink drown you yet?"

Josephine tipped back her flask, taking a slow, deliberate swallow. "Still breathing. And if the ink ever tries to kill me, I expect a full funeral with all your finest gossip in the eulogy." Her grin was wicked under the torchlight.

Lyan let a small breath escape—his closest thing to a smile just now. He lifted one hand, and the banter fell away into an expectant hush. Torches guttered in the soft wind, their flames dancing like wavering banners.

"Assignments," he said, voice low but carrying clearly over the clink of armor. "Raine and Surena: you lead twelve hundred cavalry in a feint along the eastern ridge at first light. Make it look desperate—push hard enough that every Lisban sentry believes the main assault is coming, then pull back swiftly before they can counterattack."

Raine’s smirk turned wolfish. "They won’t know what hit them until they see our spears flash."

Surena nodded, her broad chest rising. "We’ll make dust clouds they remember for a month."

"Heed the plan," Lyan reminded them. "Timing must be precise. A moment too long, and the real strike is lost."

(Precision is everything,) Cynthia whispered.

"Ravia and Xena," he continued, shifting his gaze to the two who waited silent. "Slip through the mountainside sluices—those narrow tunnels the old engineers carved. Plant small charges at the siege engines and undermine the foundations. I want those catapults echoing in fragments before the ridge feint is even halfway complete."

Ravia bent her head in agreement, eyes shimmering with the thrill of covert work. Xena flipped her dagger into her palm, its edge catching torchlight in a cold flash. No words were needed—deadly intent radiated from them both.

Josephine and Belle leaned in next. "Escort two grain caravans toward the southern gate," Lyan said, "bright barrels stamped with our crest—empty, of course. Make them look opulent. Varzadian scouts will chase the promise of easy plunder. You’ll lead them straight into Wilhelmina’s trap."

Josephine’s lips curved. "Riding bait for the Vulture’s hounds—delightful."

Belle’s eyes glinted at the prospect. "We’ll send them home with more than they bargained for."

Wilhelmina and Alina stepped closer. "Oversee the logistics base in the old market square," he directed. "Wheel grain reserves into hidden caches. If Lisban tries starving us out, they’ll find empty shelves."

Wilhelmina’s quill tapped the air once before she tucked her ledger beneath her arm. "Consider it done." Alina rolled her maps tighter, a faint smile curving her lips. "Every hidden vault marked and secure."

Alice and Emilia were last. Lyan knew this pair would bear the heaviest burden toward the end of the day. "Alice and Emilia: you hold the urban perimeter. Checkpoints every five blocks. Medical tents at every intersection. Protect civilians. We lose their trust, we lose everything."

Alice nodded, eyes steady as steel. Emilia’s hand drifted to the small pouch of salves at her belt, her gaze softening as she thought of broken limbs and comfort given under lantern light. "They will be safe," Alice said.

"We will keep them alive," Emilia added, voice warm with promise.

Lyan let his gaze sweep across them one final time. Each face was a living piece of the mechanism he’d built; each heart beat in time with the plan. He felt a fierce swell of gratitude and awe, so rare in a man hardened by war.

"We win hearts," he said quietly, "as much as walls."

He locked eyes with each woman, slow and deliberate. Each held his gaze without flinching, a silent pact forged in steel and trust.

Raine ducked close, her breath a warm brush against his ear. "I’ll light the beacon by the ash grove. If you see it, you’ll know we’re clear."

Before he could answer, Ravia stepped forward, slipping a small iron charm into his palm—a twisted rogue’s talisman shaped like a fox curled around a key. "For luck in the shadows," she whispered, her fingers brushing his knuckles.

Josephine laughed low as she tightened the strap on her flask, the leather creaking softly. "We’ll be thirsty by tonight. Better have that wine ready, Baron."

Wilhelmina met his gaze over the edge of her glasses, her eyes calm pools of certainty. She didn’t speak—she didn’t need to. Her single, steadfast nod carried more weight than any promise.

Alice’s hands were gentle but precise as she brushed the collar of his cloak, fussing with it until it sat just so. Her touch lingered a moment longer than necessary. "Come back to me," she murmured, and he felt the stir of something fierce and tender in his chest.

Emilia stepped forward next, dabbing a stray cut at the corner of his jaw with a cool cloth. Her hands were steady as always, and when she smiled, the lines around her eyes softened. He felt a small piece of the tension in his shoulders ease.

Surena bumped his shoulder with the side of her gauntlet, the sound a comforting clang. "Don’t get yourself killed before breakfast. Bad luck, that is."

Xena pressed a small dagger into his belt with a sly grin. "For company. Can’t have you charging off without a friend."

Alina, quieter than the rest, slipped a thin compass into his palm. The needle wavered once, then pointed steadily east. "It always points toward home," she said softly.

Belle came last, stepping behind him. Her warm hands settled on his shoulders, steadying him in a way that went beyond the physical. "Let’s make them tremble together, shall we?"

He bit the inside of his cheek, fighting back a swell of affection, respect, and something warmer still. His great spirits hummed in the shadows of his mind.

(You’re blessed, Lyan,) Cynthia murmured, her voice lush with approval.

(Don’t get soft,) Hestia snapped, though there was no heat in her admonition.

(Enjoy it. They’ll carry you further than fear ever did,) Lilith purred, her tone like silk across steel.

He exhaled slowly, letting the moment settle like golden light in his heart. It was time.

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