Too Lazy to be a Villainess - Chapter 321

Chapter 321: The Fall of Red Wall
(Lavinia’s POV —Eastern Region, Towards the Red Wall Castle—Pre-Siege Night)

The moon hung in the sky like a dull silver coin—cold, distant, and unimpressed by mortals trying to survive beneath it, the sun will rise in three hours.

We had marched through the forest and plains for hours. By the time Redwall Castle’s massive silhouette emerged in the distance, night had fully settled.

We made camp in the thin stretch of dead valley before the fortress—just out of archer range, just close enough to taunt.

No torches were lit.

No banners waved.

Silence itself became our armor.

Marshi prowled the perimeter, growling at anything that dared rustle. Solena perched on a rock, wings folded but eyes sharp—the calm before she carved the sky.

And then—Footsteps. Hundreds of them.

Colonel Zerith approached, fist to his chest.

“Your Highness,” he announced quietly. “The villagers have gathered. All of them.”

I didn’t move at first.

Then I rose.

My cloak dragged behind me as I walked toward the open valley edge—and there they were.

Villagers. Hundreds upon hundreds… stretching into the darkness. Men, women, even teenagers—carrying wooden sticks, broken tools, rocks, clay jars—anything that could look like a weapon from afar.

Their bodies shook from cold.

Not from fear.

From hunger.

And yet—every single one of them had come.

When I stepped forward, silence wrapped them like a spell. Torches lit their faces from below—hollow cheeks, tired eyes, and lips cracked from lack of food.

Starving people who were ready to risk everything.

Not for loyalty.

Not for patriotism.

For survival.

I nodded once.

“Thank you for coming.” The sound alone made them flinch—like praise was foreign.

“You are here because I made a promise,” I continued, voice steady, cold, regal. “Help me take Red Wall Castle… and you will eat every day. You will work and be paid. Your children will never starve again.”

Their breath trembled.

A young boy stepped forward—barely sixteen, fists shaking as he clutched a broken rake. “What if… we die before we can reach that kingdom, Your Highness?”

The way he asked—blunt, exhausted—cut deeper than a blade. I walked toward him and placed my hand on his shoulder.

“You won’t die,” I said. “Because you won’t be fighting.”

A shock rippled through the crowd.

I turned—loudly enough for all to hear: “You are not my soldiers. You are not weapons. You are a wall.”

Confusion flickered in their eyes.

I lifted my hand toward Red Wall Castle in the distance.

“When Red Wall sees you approaching, they will hesitate. They cannot fire arrows at their own civilians without consequences.”

Arwin stepped forward, taking the cue with a soldier’s precision.

“That hesitation,” he said, “is when we break their gates.”

Haldor followed—voice low and lethal. “And if anyone tries to harm you… they will die before their arrow can land.”

A wave of relief—sharp, fragile—passed through the villagers. Osric stood stiffly to my side. Quiet. Watching. Heart and duty wrestling in his eyes.

I raised my voice one last time. “Walk toward the castle. Bang on the gates. Demand food. Shout. Riot.”

My gaze sharpened.

“BE LOUD. GET ANGRY. MAKE THEM PANIC.”

The crowd flinched—then slowly nodded. A storm was forming—the kind that wasn’t lightning but the rage of the starving.

I turned to my army.

“SOLDIERS — FORM BEHIND THE VILLAGERS. NO ONE BREAKS FORMATION.”

68,000 soldiers straightened as one.

Across the valley, Red Wall Castle seemed untouchably colossal—blood-colored stone rising like a giant from the earth.

But tonight… it would tremble.

I smirked, voice low enough that only the closest commanders heard:

“Once the sun rises… we attack.”

Not with brute force. Not with reckless valor.

With strategy.

With precision.

And with fury wrapped in discipline.

“If my plan works,” I continued, eyes locked on the crimson fortress, “the Red Wall soldiers won’t even have a chance to strike. We will seize this castle in a single day.”

Arwin exhaled sharply—half in disbelief, half in awe.

“And if Red Wall falls…” he muttered.

“We will have broken the spine of Meren,” I finished.

Somewhere deep in Red Wall, horns sounded—clumsy, frantic, and uncoordinated. Soldiers raced to the walls, but they didn’t know what to target.

I sat atop my horse, cloak snapping in the wind. My People behind me, waiting for the right time to attack.

They were fueled by me.

And when I spoke again, my tone was cold enough to frost steel:

“If they want to use their starving people as weapons… then we will use their tyranny to destroy them.”

***

[Minutes before dawn]

Villagers—hundreds of them—gathered before the gate, fists pounding the wood with starvation and rage fueling every strike.

They screamed:

“OPEN THE GATES!”

“WE ARE YOUR PEOPLE!”

“FEED US!”

Hunger sharpened their voices into a weapon. Soldiers on the walls hesitated—confused, defensive, and afraid.

Exactly as I planned.

One guard finally shouted, “BACK OFF! OR WE FIRE!”

Haldor smirked. “They don’t know whether to defend or apologize.”

I tilted my chin. “Let that confusion choke them.”

A guard—trembling in fear—threw a stone.

CRACK.

The rock slammed into a villager’s skull. The man dropped, blood pooling warm and wide. Everything stopped.

Then the villagers ROARED —

“YOU KILLED HIM!!!”

“MONSTERS!”

“OPEN THE DAMN GATES!”

Perfect.

Arwin leaned close, smirking dangerously. “They’ve lost command.”

Rey chuckled darkly. “Like puppets with their strings cut.”

Osric’s jaw locked—battle-ready. Haldor’s eyes blazed—all fury and devotion, directed entirely at me.

I raised my voice—not loud, but commanding: “Shields forward.”

My army moved as one. A tidal wave of death.

“Open the path,” I ordered. The villagers stepped aside—fear AND trust parting them like the sea. I lifted my sword—stained from too many battles already—and pointed it at the gate.

“Break it.”

THUD—!!

The ram slammed into the gate.

“Again.”

THUD—CRACK!

“Again.”

“AGAIN—!!”

BOOOOOOM!!!

The gate exploded inward.

The Red Wall shook—not from the ram — From the fear of the ruler who walked through it.

The Red Wall soldiers screamed:

“STOP THEM!”

“FIRE—!!”

“SHOOT—!!”

But their hands shook. Their formation broke. They were panicking because of the sudden attack.

Perfect.

“MOVE!” I commanded.

Rams charged.

BOOOOOOM—!!!

The gate shattered.

I kicked my horse forward —charging straight into the courtyard, faster than even the frontline generals.

Haldor swore and raced after me. Arwin roared and surged forward.

Meren soldiers rushed down the stairs.

“STOP HER—!!”

“IT’S THE PRINCESS—KILL HER FIRST—!!”

Five men lunged at me simultaneously. I didn’t dodge. I wanted them close. My sword flashed once—like lightning.

SLASH–SLASH–SLASH–SLASH–SLASH.

Five bodies dropped, heads separated from shoulders before they hit the dirt. Blood sprayed across the courtyard.

ROAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!

Marshi growled and attacked on meren soldiers who tried to attack us.

Steel clashed. Skulls cracked. The ground turned red—matching the walls. I spotted the Red Wall commander—a coward trying to fight.

My smile sharpened.

He lifted his sword with trembling arms. “I w-won’t let you take Red Wall!”

I stepped forward slowly. “You already lost it.”

He swung.

I caught the blade with my bare hand—metal slicing into my skin—and leaned forward, whispering, “You should have killed your tyrant king, not your starving villagers.”

Then I drove my sword through him—pinning him to the railing.

His body slid limp. I wrenched my sword free, grabbed the castle banner—and ripped it down. Red Wall’s flag fell to the ground.

I held up my crest—Eloria’s crest—and slammed it into the pole.

Horns blasted across the courtyard.

A soldier screamed—not in horror… but in victory:

“RED WALL CASTLE HAS FALLEN — TO THE CROWN PRINCESS OF ELORIA!!!”

The roar that followed shook the earth.

It shook the earth.

68,000 soldiers thundered their approval, striking their chests with fists and weapons, the sound echoing off the crimson battlements like a war symphony from hell.

And just like that—we occupied the spine of Meren, With a riot. A riot Meren themselves taught their starving people to start.

They never even got the chance to attack us. Their own cruelty turned against them.

My inner circle approached—Haldor, Osric, Arwin, Zerith, Rey—all bowing deeply.

“Congratulations, Your Highness,” Osric announced, his voice thick with awe. “We have broken the spine of Meren.”

I smirked, slow and sharp.

“Yes,” I said. “Eloria broke the Meren spine.”

A victory like this…wasn’t just strategy.

It was history.

Because after the fall of Red Wall…the rest of the Meren territories would tremble. Some would flee.Some would defect to me. And some—would try to bargain with their lives.

All outcomes were mine.

My gaze slid to the villagers—the same ones who threw fire bombs only hours ago. Now they stared at us with eyes full of fear and something even more powerful:

Hope.

“How much ration do we have left?” I asked.

Sera checked the inventory scroll. “Two days’ supply, Your Highness.”

I nodded. “Then search the granaries of this castle. Count how much grain this region holds… and distribute that to the villagers first.”

Zerith stepped forward instantly. “I will take command of food distribution immediately.”

I nodded once. “Good. Once they recover from hunger… they will farm properly again. They will rebuild.”

A kingdom doesn’t fear a ruler who starves them. A kingdom bows to a ruler who feeds them.

I turned to my soldiers—my people.

“Shall we have dinner tonight?” I asked, voice soft but resonant. “Together.”

For a moment—shock.

These men had never been invited to dine with royalty. Not in Eloria, not in Meren, not in any kingdom of this empire.

Then slowly—a ripple of stunned smiles.

Rey grinned, Arwin bowed, Haldor lowered his head in silent gratitude, and even Osric—though stiff—smiled faintly.

“It would be our honor to dine with you, Your Highness,” Arwin replied, pride bleeding through his voice.

I nodded.

“Then tonight, we celebrate here—in the castle we won. And after that…”

My gaze drifted toward the towering mountains beyond.

Where the capital city, the crown, and the throne of Meren awaited.

“…we march for the throne.”

A hush fell over them—not from fear.

From anticipation.

From certainty.

We were no longer just fighting a war. We were taking a kingdom. And nothing—not bombs, not hunger, not kings, not princes—would stop us now.