Too Lazy to be a Villainess - Chapter 292

Chapter 292: Dew, Steel, and Diplomacy
[Lavinia’s POV — Dawnspire Wing—The Next Morning]

Morning sunlight spilled golden across the balcony, warming my skin as a soft breeze tugged playfully at my hair. The world below was calm—dew-kissed leaves, birds testing their first songs, and palace guards marching like drowsy shadows.

Marshi stretched luxuriously on the railing, his golden fur glimmering, tail curling like a question mark.

I raised a brow at him. “Do you want to go for a walk, Marshi?”

He blinked once… then nudged his head against me with a soft rumble, his tail swishing in complete agreement.

I laughed quietly. “That’s a yes, then.”

***

[Palace Gardens—Early Morning—Later]

The moment my bare feet touched the grass, a ripple of magic hummed through me. A magic of Nature. Cool. Soft. Alive. It felt like stepping straight into the heartbeat of nature.

Marshi bounded ahead, chasing floating petals as though they were sworn enemies. He was bouncing happily, stretching and Yawning.

“I can’t believe you’re a Rakshar, Marshi,” I teased, hands on my hips.

Marshi puffed out his chest, clearly offended… then tripped over his own tail.

A soft chuckle escaped me—light and uncontrolled. It felt good. Better than good. It felt like breathing after holding my lungs still for months.

The air smelled of blooming lilies and freshly turned earth. Sunlight filtered through the ancient trees like scattered diamonds. For a blissful moment, there were no crowns, no envoys, and no threats from distant borders.

Just me.

Just my Marshi.

Just peace, until—

CLANG! CLANG!

The jarring clash of steel shattered the stillness.

“Huh?” I blinked, brows knitting. “Who in the stars is training at this hour?”

Marshi huffed, equally offended by the noise interrupting his majestic pouncing. I followed the sound toward the training grounds. As the hedge cleared, I stopped.

Sir Haldor.

Alone.

Shirtless.

His sword cut through the morning air with lethal precision, muscles moving like battle-honed poetry. His black hair clung damply to his forehead, darkened by sweat that shimmered across broad shoulders —and there, on his chest, a faint scar… one I didn’t remember granting permission for.

A strike. A wound. Recently hidden. Something tightened in my chest. Irritation? Concern? Both?

“So… you’re an early morning person, Sir Haldor?” My voice carried before I could think better of it.

He froze mid-swing—then whirled, eyes wide. His blue gaze flashed like startled lightning.

“Your Highness,” he breathed, lowering his blade. “You’re awake… already? That’s very unusual of you.”

. . .

. . .

I narrowed my eyes, deadpan. “I’m sorry—are you questioning my ability to wake up or accusing me of slacking as your future ruler?”

His jaw dropped—then snapped shut.

“Neither!” he blurted, straightening so fast his sword nearly flew from his hand. “I simply meant—the realm is safer when you rest properly, Princess.”

Oh. Smooth recovery.

He cleared his throat, suddenly avoiding my eyes—which was odd. Haldor never avoided anything. Not nobles. Not armies. Not even Papa.

“So,” I crossed my arms, “who struck you there?” I looked at the scar on his chest. “If someone’s trying to assassinate my Captain of Knights, I’d like to know why I wasn’t invited.”

He blinked… looked down and… then muttered, “Training mishap.”

“Hmm.” I stepped closer—inspecting the scar as if it were evidence. “I hate lies before breakfast, Captain.”

His breath caught. He stiffened like a man unsure whether he should retreat or bow or faint.

Marshi hopped around him, sniffing him with great suspicion. Haldor didn’t move. Didn’t even breathe.

…Interesting.

I tilted my head. “You serve me. You protect me. Yet you refuse to tell me who dared put a blade on you?” My voice softened, dangerously. “That does not please me, Haldor.”

His eyes met mine—finally steady.

“I protect you,” he said quietly, “because I choose to. Not because I expect you to worry over every mark I earn doing so.”

I froze.

I blinked… and then forced a small smile onto my lips. “Then forgive me for overstepping, Sir Haldor. It wasn’t my intention to pry into matters you don’t owe me.”

I turned to leave. “Have a good training session, Sir—”

Warm fingers brushed mine—firm, calloused, and unexpectedly gentle. I stopped. Slowly, I looked down at his hand encircling mine… then up into those startlingly blue eyes of a man who never allowed himself softness.

“Sir… Haldor?” I breathed.

He immediately withdrew, as if burned by his own impulse. “My apologies, Your Highness. I should not have touched you without permission.” His voice lowered—almost pained. “I simply could not watch my princess walk away believing she had disappointed me.”

My heart stumbled.

For the first time since I’d known him—the ice in his eyes melted into something quiet… something unbearably kind. And in that warmth, he looked impossibly different.

He cleared his throat and spoke again, “This scar… it’s old. I earned it years ago during night patrol, before I was an imperial knight. A thief’s blade got lucky.” A faint, amused exhale slipped out. “Not exactly a grand tale.”

I laughed softly. “And here I was imagining a dragon or a coup.”

His lips curved—barely—but beautifully. “If it eases Your Highness… I do not hide anything from the one I vowed to protect. My duty is to stand beside you… and walk with you—until the end of life.”

The words struck deeper than I expected. I knew he spoke as a knight to his princess, but something in his voice—something quiet and resolute—made my chest ache.

Osric had always promised he’d die for me. But this is the first time… someone promised he’d live for me.

He wasn’t saying it like a soldier reciting duty. He meant it.

“I’m grateful,” I whispered, “that you are the one leading my knights.”

He bowed his head, the ghost of a smile at his lips. “And I am honored to serve the future Empress.”

The morning sunlight caught on the steel of his sword, scattering gold between us. Something unspoken lingered—warm, uncertain, new.

“Would you like to spar with me?” I asked with a gentle smile.

His eyes flickered—surprise, then a smoldering challenge. He stepped back, drawing his sword in one smooth glide. “It would be my greatest honor, Your Highness.”

I picked up a sword, pulse thrumming and smirked. “Then don’t hold back.”

He raised his sword, stance poised, smile faint but real. “I wouldn’t dare.”

The lilies swayed around us as steel met steel—and beneath the rising sun, I couldn’t tell if the warmth in my chest came from the morning light… or from him.

***

[Royal War Room—Late Morning]

By the time I finished sparring with Haldor, peace had already begun to crack apart.

Maps sprawled across the long obsidian table like warning signs. Three generals stood stiffly. Rey beside them looked grim. And Osric—still in his ceremonial black—watched me step in with a storm in his eyes.

Rey cleared his throat, his voice steadier than his hands. “Princess. We received a message from the Meren Kingdom.”

My fingers curled around the edge of the table. “Finally. What excuse do they offer?”

General Arwin stepped forward. “They claim the water contamination is… an accident. A natural disruption in the riverbed.”

A pause. The kind of pause that carried insult.

My voice dropped into something dark and razor-thin. “What kind of absurd reason is this?”

Osric stepped closer, shoulders taut. “Lavi, you need to calm yourself.”

I turned my gaze on him slowly. “Calm? You expect me to be calm when they poison our water and send excuses wrapped in pretty lies? If not for Haldor and Rey reacting quickly—”my voice sharpened, “—we would be digging innocent villagers graves by now.”

Osric’s eyes softened, but his voice remained firm. “I know. I agree. But anger must not lead our strategy.”

I sighed heavily. “Anything else?”

General Arwin nodded once. “We received a message from Meren, Your Highness.”

I snatched the letter, cracked the seal, and unrolled it. Ink lines of arrogance stared back at me.

An envoy request. A plea for “discussion.” Threats disguised as diplomacy.

“They think they’re negotiating from strength,” I said, tasting venom.

Rey scoffed under his breath. “They believe we’ll hesitate. That we’ll swallow their provocations like fearful children.”

I flattened the scroll against the table, letting my nails scrape across its surface like a blade marking its target.

“Confidence,” I whispered, “is a beautiful thing… right up until the moment it shatters.”

Sir Haldor stepped forward, voice low. “Your Highness. If they are provoking war—”

“They are.” I didn’t let him finish. “Carefully. Quietly. Poison does the work long before the sword is drawn. They want us weakened. Doubting. Distracted.”

A heavy silence anchored itself in the room.

Osric broke it. “Let me go. I will face Meren’s envoy and demand the truth.”

I looked at him—brave, steady, and ready to bleed for me. But—

“No.” I said sharply. “You’re too valuable to risk if they mean to trap us.”

Haldor immediately stepped forward, fist over his heart. “Then send me, Princess. I will not return empty-handed.”

Our eyes locked. His resolve was iron. But I leaned back, voice cold as frostbitten steel. “No envoy leaves. Not yet. They want us on their soil—where the tide bends to their whim.”

I pressed my palm over the map—right at Meren’s jagged border invading ours like a blade.

“We wait. We watch. And when they reveal their true hand…” My lips curled into a lethal smile. “…we strike before they understand who they provoked.”

Osric studied me with something like awe—and something like fear. Haldor bowed deeply, a knight carved from devotion.

The room shrank around us. Breaths held. Power coiled like a serpent ready to strike.

Peace was dying—quietly.

War wasn’t here yet… But I could hear it breathing.