Too Lazy to be a Villainess - Chapter 330

Chapter 330: The Decoys of War
[Lavinia’s POV—Western Darn Castle—Two Days Later]

Western Darn was supposed to be a battle.

Instead, it bowed.

The moment our banners crossed the final hill, the gates swung open—not with defiance, but relief. People lined the roads, cheering, bowing, and thanking us as if we were salvation rather than conquerors. Quite surprising… though perhaps not, considering the decree I’d sent two days before:

“Any abandoned territory falls under Elorian protection. Taxes are suspended. Food shortages will be supplied. Anyone harming civilians will be executed.”

The people weren’t welcoming me.

They were welcoming a future.

One they hadn’t had under their own king. It was the first castle in this war that fell without bloodshed. And ironically… the most populated one.

Now, in the council hall of Western Darn—the once-throne room of the coward who fled—I stood before my generals.

Haldor stepped forward first, posture hard, eyes sharper than steel.

“As you predicted, Your Highness… the Prince Kaelren is waiting for us at the Western Border. With seventy-eight thousand soldiers.”

A murmur rippled through the room.

Arwin’s jaw dropped. “Seventy-eight thousand? This kingdom is so small—how did they even gather that many?”

Osric folded his arms, voice low and cold. “That is not the question we should be asking. The real problem is this: we have sixty-eight thousand. If we fight head-on, we lose. We need a strategy strong enough to reverse this war.”

I tapped my fingers once against the table, slow and thoughtful.

“I agree with the Grand Duke,” I said. “And the first tactic is this—kill General Luke.”

Rey blinked. “Not the prince?”

“No.” I picked up a carved wooden puppet from the map—shaped like a soldier—and flicked it aside. “According to every report we’ve gathered, General Luke is the strongest weapon the prince possesses. He’s not just a commander. He’s a shield. A wall. A living fortress.”

Haldor nodded. “Kaelren rarely shows himself. General Luke leads the armies.”

“Exactly.” I moved a second puppet—this one shaped like a crowned figure—behind a line of shields. “Kill the general… the prince becomes exposed. Weak. Vulnerable. The entire kingdom will collapse inward.”

Arwin grimaced. “But Luke is not just any general. They call him the Iron Wall of Meren.”

I smiled. Slowly. Wickedly.

“Then we break the wall.”

Silence followed. The dangerous kind.

Haldor exhaled softly. “Your Highness… how do you propose we do that?”

I leaned over the map, letting my shadow stretch across the table like a drawn blade.

“A simple tactic,” I said. “Old. Dirty. Merciless.”

Rey grinned. “Perfect.”

I placed the puppet representing General Luke in the center of the map. Then—I surrounded him with small black markers.

“What is that?” Zerith asked.

“Darkness,” I replied. “Fear. Chaos.”

Osric’s eyes narrowed. “Explain.”

“General Luke is a fortress,” I said, tapping the puppet. “He fights using formation. Unity. Shield walls. He wins wars because he commands armies that move like one body.”

I dragged my thumb through the line of shields, scattering them apart.

“So we destroy that unity.”

Haldor frowned slightly. “How?”

“By sending a false army.”

Everyone froze. Rey’s grin widened. “Oh… oh, I like where this is going.”

Arwin stepped forward. “False army? You mean—decoys?”

“Not decoys.” I moved ten small soldier markers to the left of the map. Then another ten to the right. “We split ten thousand soldiers into three groups. None of them large enough to fight head-on. All of them small enough to trick the enemy into thinking they’re surprise reinforcements.”

Zerith’s eyes widened. “You want the general to break formation—to go after the groups?”

“Yes.” I traced three directions on the map with my nail. “We attack from the left. And right. And behind. All at different times. All loud. All chaotic. All messy. No real threat… only noise.”

Osric looked impressed despite himself. “And the moment General Luke breaks his formation…”

“He dies.” I smiled, sharp as a dagger’s edge.

Haldor’s eyes gleamed. “Because you will strike his center.”

“Yes.” I moved the main army token straight through the opening created in the middle. “We wait until he is forced to send soldiers to all three sides… and then we strike the heart.”

“Cut off the head,” Rey murmured, “and the body collapses.”

Osric chuckled darkly. “It’s wicked. Cruel. Risky.”

“But effective,” Arwin finished.

I straightened slowly.

“It won’t be easy. This plan requires speed. Precision. Timing. If even one group gets crushed too early, he won’t break formation.”

Haldor nodded. “We must choose the strongest soldiers for the decoy armies.”

“No,” I said.

He blinked. “Your Highness?”

“We choose the fastest.” He understood instantly.

“No deaths,” he said. “Speed over strength. They run before Luke’s forces can corner them.”

“Exactly. They run, and they scream, and they make it look real.”

I leaned in, voice dropping lower, darker, and sharper: “We will drown the Iron Wall in noise. In confusion. In shadows. Until he never sees the blade coming for his throat.”

Haldor lowered his head. “As you command.”

Osric bowed deeply. Rey saluted with a grin. Arwin exhaled, already thinking through logistics.

I straightened, eyes fixed on the border marked in red.

“Prepare the decoy armies,” I commanded. “Tonight, we begin the strategy that will break General Luke.”

“And tomorrow,” I whispered, “we begin the fall of Meren.”

***

[Kaelren’s POV — Western Border Camp — Night]

The wind howled against the tents, carrying dust and the scent of steel.

And I—Prince Kaelren of Meren—future emperor, terror of the continent, absolute ruler of these lands—

…was bored.

I kicked a stone across the dirt, watching it bounce uselessly. Around me, my soldiers marched, sharpened blades, checked armor—every one of them tense, disciplined, prepared for war.

I wasn’t.

“Luke!” I yelled, spinning around. “LUKE!! Where is he?!”

A shadow moved like a mountain unfolding itself.

General Luke stepped forward. Tall. Cold. Calm. Eyes like tempered iron. A scar ran across his jaw—a mark from a hundred battles he survived.

He bowed slightly. “Your Highness.”

“There you are!” I snapped. “Why is everything so slow? Why aren’t they trembling? Why aren’t they marching faster? Why aren’t we doing something!?”

Luke stared at me in silence.

That was the worst part. His silence felt like judgment… even though he never said a word.

Finally, he spoke.

“Your Highness… it has been two days since they traveled. The soldiers are tired. Their bodies require rest.”

“Rest? How much rest do they need? They are not old! Look at them—they have legs! And arms! They can move! Tell them to move!”

Luke inhaled. Slowly. Painfully. “Soldiers are not toys, Your Highness.”

I blinked at him.

Then grinned.

“Of course they are!”

His jaw tightened.

“Whatever,” I said, waving a hand dismissively. “We are running late. That princess has approached Western Darn. Let’s just kill her.”

Luke stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Your Highness… Crown Princess Lavinia is not an opponent you should underestimate.”

I scoffed. Loudly.

“She’s a GIRL.”

Luke closed his eyes. For a moment, I feared he might crush me with his bare hands.

When he opened them, the air shifted—dangerously calm.

“Your Highness… that girl conquered Red Wall. That girl executed General Caelum. That girl united three major territories in a week. That girl made three lords flee from their own castles out of fear.”

I froze.

My confidence wavered.

“…okay fine, she is a scary girl.”

“She is not scary,” Luke corrected sharply. “She is strategic. Ruthless. And brilliant.”

I crossed my arms, pouting. “Well, she didn’t stand a chance against ME.”

Luke blinked.”…You have never fought her.”

“I will! AND THEN she won’t stand a chance!”

Luke stared at me with the kind of look adults give a toddler who says they will fight a dragon using a stick.

Then—

“Your Highness, our scouts have returned.”

A soldier rushed into the tent, bowing so fast he nearly fell. “General! Prince! A—an army has been spotted!”

“How many?” I demanded.

“Ten thousand, Your Highness!”

I smirked. “Only ten thousand? Pathetic. Luke, send thirty thousand soldiers. We will crush them.”

The soldier paled. “T—there is another group on the right flank, Your Highness. Another ten thousand.”

My smirk twitched.”Oh.”

“And another from the south!”

My eyes widened. “That’s… that’s not allowed.”

Luke stepped forward. “Three groups. Thirty thousand total.”

He studied the map the soldier spread across the table.

“Unusual,” Luke muttered. “They’re moving erratically. No formation. No discipline. Almost… frantic.”

“Aha!” I pointed. “See? They’re scared! They know I’m here. Of course they’re scared.”

Luke didn’t even look up.

“No, Your Highness… This is strange.” Luke’s voice deepened, eyes narrowing at the frantic marks on the map. “Armies don’t move like this. They’re too fast. Too inconsistent. They break formation too quickly.”

He tapped the parchment, knuckles tightening.

“These aren’t armies.”

I let out a loud, theatrical sigh. “Ugh, must you overthink everything? Fine. Then send soldiers to fight them.”

Luke’s head snapped up. “Your Highness, wait—”

“No.” I folded my arms. “Just do it.”

Luke stepped in front of me. Actually stepped in front of me. “We need a plan. We need to understand what their intention—”

I cut him off with a snarl. “IT’S. MY. ORDER, LUKE.”

The tent froze.

Even the torches seemed to stop flickering.

I jabbed a finger toward the map.

“Send the armies immediately! I want that princess’ head—and the entire Elorian army crushed under my feet!”

Luke inhaled sharply. “Your Highness, if we move without caution, we risk—”

“Oh shut up.” I waved him away like an annoying insect. “And just do what I said. I am the future emperor. Not you.”

He didn’t move.

Not immediately.

His jaw clenched, muscles ticking in anger—or fear, I couldn’t tell which. But I didn’t care. I pushed past him, brushing aside the tent flap like a hero in a great tale.

“Prepare the troops!” I shouted to the soldiers outside. “And march NOW!”

They scrambled, panicked, uncoordinated.

Perfectly obedient.

I grinned, stepping into the cold night air, cloak snapping behind me like victory already belonged to me.

Because after this battle… After I crushed Lavinia…After I took her head and marched through the gates of Western Darn…I would sit on that throne and prove to everyone—my father, the nobles, the empire—that I was the one destined to rule.

Victory was within reach, and all I had to do was seize it.

Behind me, inside the tent, I heard Luke release a breath that didn’t sound like frustration anymore. It sounded like dread.

But I didn’t turn back.

I was already walking away—marching straight into the war that would make me a king.