Too Lazy to be a Villainess novel Chapter 346

Chapter 346: The Princess’s Judgment

[Lavinia’s POV—Moonlit Camp—Continuation]

The wind was sharp tonight.

Cold enough to bite, quiet enough to hear a pin drop, still enough that even the tents seemed to hold their breath. I’d stepped outside only because Marshi insisted on a walk—tail flicking, practically dragging me by the cloak.

And then—

"HOW DARE YOU—!!"

A shout tore through the night. My blood iced. That voice—Osric.

I quickened my pace, boots scraping gravel.

I rounded the corner—and froze.

Osric’s fist hovered mid-air.

Haldor didn’t move—frozen like a blade about to strike, shoulders tight, jaw clenched, every instinct ready to snap into violence.

And my voice tore through the night, "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE!!!"

The sound echoed across the entire camp. Both men jerked toward me instantly.

Osric’s fist hung just inches from Haldor’s jaw. Haldor’s hand was already on the hilt of his sword. One heartbeat more, and one of them would have bled.

"...Princess," Haldor murmured, stepping aside immediately, lowering his gaze in discipline.

Osric stepped back too—but not with respect.

With guilt.

With fury.

With something twisted beneath his skin.

My glare swept across both of them—slow, sharp, and cold enough to freeze bone.

"Step. Away. From. Each. Other."

Not a shout.

Not a request.

A command that made them separate without hesitation, like puppets yanked by invisible strings.

Haldor obeyed silently. Osric obeyed stiffly, jaw flexing hard enough to crack. The air between us tightened—thick, dangerous, suffocating.

I didn’t blink.

I didn’t soften.

I let the full weight of my authority crash down.

"Since both of you have somehow lost your minds..." I said coldly, "You will follow me. Now."

No one argued.

Without waiting, I turned sharply and began walking toward my personal camp. My cloak snapped behind me like a living flame.

The soldiers nearby scrambled out of the way. Torches flickered, shadows bent, and the moonlight carved the ground in silver paths—and behind me:

Haldor followed immediately, silent and controlled. Unmoving, except for the tension raging under his skin.

Osric followed slower.

Shoulders knotted.

Face twisted with something poisonous.

But he followed.

I didn’t look at either of them. Not yet. Because if I did, one of them would regret it.

We reached my camp entrance, the guards bowing immediately. And I entered last—closing the tent flap behind us with a snap loud enough to make them stand straighter.

The night outside went quiet. The air inside grew heavier. Two men stood before me—one loyal. One breaking. Both on the verge of war.

And I—I was done with silence.

I crossed my arms slowly, deliberately, letting the weight of the moment settle over them like a blade.

"Now," I said, voice cold enough to freeze the lantern flames, "who is going to tell me why you were fighting like animals outside?"

Neither man spoke.

Not even a twitch.

Haldor’s eyes dropped to the floor—his discipline choking him. Osric’s jaw clenched so tightly I thought his teeth might crack.

Their silence was a confession in itself.

I narrowed my eyes.

Neither of them dared to meet my gaze. They knew they had crossed a line.

A line I did not tolerate.

My voice dropped to a dangerous softness.

"I see," I murmured. "So you both had the courage to throw punches but not the courage to speak. But I can guess one thing: that one of you cannot control his emotions... and the other refuses to walk away from provocation, am I right?"

Both men stiffened, guilt slicing through them like knives.

I exhaled sharply and straightened, dropping my arms. "Alright," I said. "... I have no choice... but to punish you both."

Osric’s hands curled into fists. Haldor’s shoulders locked.

I stepped forward—slow, deliberate, each footstep echoing like a countdown.

"You are grown men," I said, "yet you behave like children fighting over toys."

My gaze snapped to Osric.

"And you—Grand Duke—laying a hand on my captain?"

He froze.

"You have violated rank, discipline, and your oath. If this happens again, Osric..." My eyes narrowed to slits. "... I will strip your title for 78 hours without hesitation."

His breath caught.

Then I turned to Haldor.

"And you." He straightened instantly—like a soldier before a queen. "You drew your sword in camp. Without a direct threat."

Haldor lowered his head, shame tightening his posture.

"I expected more discipline from my captain," I said. "If you ever react with your blade before using your words again—I will revoke your command until you remember composure, and you’ll be stripped of your title for 78 hours too."

A flicker of shock crossed his face, then vanished just as quickly beneath obedience. I let my gaze sweep between them—two men drowning in emotions they refused to speak, dragging their personal storms into my authority, my camp, my command.

My patience snapped.

The temperature in the tent plummeted.

My voice dropped—colder than the steel at Haldor’s hip, sharper than Osric’s fury.

"If either of you ever—EVER—fight again because of jealousy, insecurity, pride, or anything other than protecting Eloria—" I stepped forward. "I will personally end that stupidity."

Silence swallowed the tent.

I inhaled sharply—then delivered the punishment they deserved.

"For now," I said, folding my arms, "you both will clean every single horse in this camp."

Both men blinked.

"And," I added flatly, "you will make their fur shine so brightly that it blinds my eyes when I walk past."

They should suffer. A little humiliation would do wonders for their egos.

But then—THUD!

But—is it just me, or does Haldor now look like the cutest puppy disguised as a deadly soldier?

He looked up at me with those eyes. Those guilty, soft, heart-stabbing puppy eyes.

...Oh gods.

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