Too Lazy to be a Villainess-Chapter 119: Before Her Tenth Birthday

[Emperor Cassius’s POV]

Irethene.

A kingdom so quiet, I often forgot it existed.

They minded their own business. No border disputes. No trade meddling. No political games. They were the kind of kingdom that lived like a whisper—heard by no one, harming no one.

And because of that, I never saw them as a threat.

Never planned to conquer them.

Never even considered their name in war meetings.

Which is why, when the doors to the war chamber slammed open and a blood-soaked messenger stumbled inside, panting, pale, and barely coherent—I did not expect the words that followed.

"Y-Your Majesty..." he gasped. "The Kingdom of Irethene... they crossed the southern border—"

I straightened.

Regis looked up sharply. Theon—who had just poured tea—froze mid-pour.

"—they crossed during the night and ambushed our southern garrison. Dozens of knights, Your Majesty. Slaughtered."

Theon’s jaw dropped. "What?"

"Irethene?" Regis snapped. "That can’t be right. Irethene doesn’t even move. They barely even breathe!"

The messenger’s throat bobbed. He wiped blood from his cheek. "It was sudden, Your Majesty. Quick. Brutal. Cowardly. They left no survivors."

The silence that followed wasn’t silent at all.

It pulsed.

Heavy. Thick. Like the air itself held its breath.

I stared at the flames licking the edges of the war map spread before me.

And then I smiled.

Cold. Slow.

The kind of smile I wore when mercy was no longer on the table.

"So... the silent kingdom found its voice."

Regis looked uneasy. "Your Majesty, if Irethene has truly attacked, we must respond—swiftly. Strategically."

"Strategically?" I said, rising from my seat with deadly calm. "There is nothing strategic about stabbing my men in the dark."

I turned to the messenger. "And you’re sure? Not raiders? Not mercenaries?"

He nodded. "Their sigils were clear, sire. The silver flame of Irethene burned on every cloak."

Theon’s face twisted. "But why? We’ve never crossed them. Never sent a single spy across their border."

"Exactly," I murmured. "We ignored them. And they mistook it for weakness."

I turned to Regis.

He stood a little straighter.

"Send a battalion to the southern border. No—send three. I want knights, archers, and skyborne riders. Let them see the full shadow of the empire stretching toward their quiet kingdom."

Regis blinked. "Three battalions?"

"And a fourth to follow."

My voice dropped to something colder. Something that made even the flames on the war map seem to shrink back. "Because I want their silence buried with them. And I will personally rip the spine out of that bastard emperor."

Theon hesitated. "...You’ll go to war yourself?"

"Yes," I said, my eyes never leaving the flickering map. "A night strike on our southern border isn’t just cowardice—it’s a declaration. And declarations," I said, flexing my jaw, "deserve responses."

"Violent responses," Regis muttered, nodding.

Theon, ever the voice of nerves and logic, spoke next. "But... what about the princess?"

I looked at him then. Slowly. Calmly. The kind of calm that makes men uneasy. Then I turned to the map... to the messenger... And finally, back to Theon.

"My daughter," I said, "should learn something very important."

Regis didn’t blink. Theon stood still.

"If someone dares to strike you from the shadows," I continued, "you don’t hesitate. You don’t forgive. You conquer."

I took a step forward, letting the full weight of my words sink in. "This isn’t just war strategy. It’s parenting. And as a responsible father—" I gave them both a cold smile.

"—I can’t teach my daughter the wrong lesson. Wouldn’t you agree?"

Regis exhaled slowly and turned on his heel. "I’ll prepare the legions."

I nodded and continued, "Send word to Ravick immediately."

As he moved, I remained still. My eyes traced the firelight dancing across the kingdom’s borders, licking up the edges of parchment like prophecy.

Irethene sat in the corner of the map. Quiet. Untouched.

Not anymore.

I stepped closer and placed my hand over its crest. Pressed down.

"Ready the war chamber," I said quietly.

"And fetch the High Seer. I want to know who whispered into Irethene’s ear... and what lies they fed them in exchange for blood."

Theon paused only to bow low. "At once, Your Majesty."

Because this wasn’t just a border raid. It wasn’t a misstep. It wasn’t a mistake.

It was a message.

And now—

It was my turn to answer.

With fire.

With fury.

And every ounce of steel this empire had forged in silence.

Leaving Lavinia behind... That was the first cost.And not an easy one.

The halls of the palace still echoed with her laughter in my mind—sharp, untamed, full of mischief. That child had never once let protocol bind her. She rode a divine beast through marble corridors.

And yet—When I turned to leave...

When my warhorse stood at the gates, the horns announcing my departure, and she—my firebrand—came hurtling toward me in that damn oversized cloak, tears clinging to her lashes and defiance in her stance—

I nearly stayed.

I felt it.That dangerous softness.The tug.

But a king—an emperor—does not stay when his border burns.

So I knelt to her.

I cupped her tiny face in my hands, calloused fingers pressing against soft, sun-kissed skin, and I looked her in the eyes.

Not as a father.Not as a king.

But as both.

And as I explained what had happened at the border, my lazy, sharp-tongued daughter—gods, bless her stubborn, cunning little brain—just gave one slow, thoughtful nod.

As if she understood the weight of the moment. As if she’d been born with battlefields stitched into her bones.

Then she stepped forward. Wrapped those small arms around me in a hug far too tight for someone who pretended to hate affection.

And whispered, "Then come back before my tenth birthday. I want to celebrate it with you... together."

That was it.

Not "Don’t go," not "I’m scared." Just a simple, unshaken request. A command hidden in sweetness.

And when I looked down at her... she wasn’t crying.

She wasn’t even blinking.

There was something in her eyes. Something steady. Steeled. Like she knew—knew down to her bones—that her father wouldn’t fall in battle. Like the thought of me dying wasn’t even possible.

She stared at me like the war was a mild inconvenience.

Like her real worry wasn’t if I’d survive, but how she’d endure three whole years without her Papa by her side.

That gaze...

It almost broke me.

I was supposed to be the unshakable one. The Emperor. The blade of the Empire. The man was feared across borders.

But in that moment, I was just a father. A father making promises he refused to break and promising himself, "I have to return soon, and I will give that empire as a gift."

Her empire.

I would gift it to her, wrapped in steel and victory.

But silent kingdoms... they are the hardest to conquer. Not because they are strong, but because no one knows where their strength truly lies. They don’t boast. They don’t bark. They just watch. freёnovelkiss-com

And wait.

And strike when you least expect it.

To conquer Irethene, I couldn’t just charge in with sword and banner. No. I had to learn it. Study its bones. Peel back the layers of myth and silence. Understand its emperor. It’s people. Its fears. It’s gods.

And more importantly—its weakness.

And weakness... always reveals itself.Eventually.

But time is what it demands.

And blood is what it costs.

So yes—returning before her tenth birthday was a promise.

But fulfilling that promise?

That would take a war.

And I would win it.

For her.

***

[Southern Border]

The smell hit me first.

Blood.

Old, dried, soaked into the soil like a curse. Steel. Smoke. And beneath it all—burnt fabric, scorched leather, and the bitter stench of betrayal.

The wind here didn’t blow.

It howled.

As if mourning the knights who fell before they even had time to draw their swords.

I rode through the border encampment in silence, the only sound the rhythmic clop of hooves and the soft clinking of imperial armor. Soldiers straightened the moment they saw me. Some bowed. Some saluted. All looked tired. Hollow-eyed. Scarred by a battle that wasn’t a battle at all.

It was a massacre.

And I intended to return the favor.

The tents were pitched low, black imperial flags fluttering against the dusk. The ground was uneven from where bodies had been moved hastily—too many, too fast. Our southern wall, once fortified with quiet pride, now stood scarred. The great stones cracked. The warding sigils smeared.

My jaw clenched.

I dismounted without a word. The reins were taken from my hand before they could hit the ground. I marched across the blood-smeared dirt with purpose, boots thudding like a heartbeat made of war.

Ravick stood at the edge of the broken watchtower, gazing down at the valley below like he could will time to reverse. His long coat flapped in the breeze, and even from behind, I could tell he hadn’t slept.

"Report," I ordered, voice low.

He turned. Bowed slightly.

"Your Majesty."

I stepped beside him. The view stretched beyond—a burned field. Blackened grass. The southern ridge, where enemy fire had rained from the cliffs.

And the silence.

Gods, the silence of a battlefield that hadn’t even been fair.

"They attacked in the dead of night," Ravick said without being prompted. "Twenty-four knights dead before the horns even sounded. Only a few survivors. Injuries... unspeakable."

"I read the scrolls," I said. "I didn’t come here for death counts."

I turned my head, eyes narrowed. "I came for truth."

Ravick exhaled and nodded grimly. "I searched the surrounding region. Sent scouts in three directions. Checked every intercepted message. There’s only one thing that makes sense."

I waited.

He glanced at the ruined tower before meeting my gaze. "There’s been a change of emperor in Irethene."

A pause.

Then—

"...Say that again," I said quietly.

"A new ruler now wears the crown," Ravick repeated. "The old emperor—Orlan—is either dead or vanished. Irethene hasn’t announced it formally, but something has shifted. Their troops... their formation, their magic—none of it matches their previous patterns. This was not Irethene’s old hand."

My eyes flicked toward the valley, toward the border that had once felt so irrelevant I didn’t even bother to fortify it properly.

And now?

"A change of emperor," I muttered. "Of course. That explains the sudden spine."

Ravick nodded. "And the cruelty."

I fell silent, fists clenched behind my back.

Theon once joked that Irethene was a sleeping cat—curled, quiet, content to stay out of wars and quietly sip honeyed tea in their misty mountains.

But this?

This was no cat.

This was a beast awakening.

One with teeth.

"Do we have a name?" I asked.

Ravick shook his head. "None. Whoever they are, they’re keeping their rise buried under layers of misdirection. No signature. No banners. Not a whisper. But whoever now rules Irethene... they’re smart."

"Smart doesn’t concern me," I said coldly. "Only how long it takes to put their head on a spike."

I turned from the ridge, cloak snapping in the wind like a declaration of war. My voice came out sharper now, a blade unsheathed.

"Double the watchposts. Fortify the borderline with fire wards. I want aerial scouts along the entire southern mountain spine. And Ravick—"

"Yes, Your Majesty?"

"Prepare the war chamber. If Irethene has forgotten their place in history, then I’ll remind them."

Ravick bowed. "As you command."

They wanted a war?

Then I would give them one.

And I would not stop until I buried their silence in ashes.

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