If I Disobey the Duke Chapter 188

Roots (3)

TW: ableism

Neither day nor night, the cloudy sky covered the horizon in purple. The crowds lined up like a swarm of ants cast a thick shadow. The atmosphere emanating from those who were exhausted from the journey was gloomy and heavy.

In the middle, a huge ebony carriage was unmoving. It was a carriage of the Isles with gold leaf on top of the colorful patterns. Shylock's assistant, standing next to the carriage, trembled as he watched the queues stall.

“Secondly, the line is not moving… It's the first time I've seen ominous things come together like this. I don't know if this is why I hate people abandoned by God.”

A patient whose face was bandaged to cover the boil, a man missing one of his limbs, a stutterer and an idiot intermingled among the lower aristocratic carriages.

If people raised their voices all day long, they would be very humiliated.

“If I had to live with these things…  What does it mean to be a duchess? It would be better to have an incurable disease and be very poor, wouldn't it?”

Daughter of the Isles. Even though their relationship was not as good as others, sympathy arose.

The mercenaries standing next to each other were taken aback by the murmuring of the aide.

“What the. A pervert duke is a hundred times better than a poor viscount. And what worries a young lady who grew up in a wealthy family and became a duchess? That beggar speaks of sympathy for that princess.”

“…I know. What does he even know? How are we supposed to get out of this gutter…”

The mercenary commander shrugged. The servant of a lower-ranking noble who had been slapped in the face by his superior was heading towards the gate again.

“I saw that nobleman's servant going towards the gate. Do you want to follow him once and see?”

Shylock's aide sneakily followed behind the servant. Afraid to arrive at the entrance to the gate, the guards who stood guard at the gate responded with a sullen attitude.

“Keep order. Those who come late must stand behind.”

“But where in the world are these things? Isn't it common sense to change the line according to status? They're not aristocrats and commoners, are you mixing us with those ominous people?”

“This is the order of the lord. If you don't want to be interrogated, go back.”

The guard's reaction was mechanical. It was thanks to the fact that after repeating the same words for a day or even years, he got to the point of muttering in a uniform tone while sleeping lightly.

As if the servant had made a decision, he stiffened his neck. “I will give you money. How much do you want?”

“Anyone who gives a bribe is to be sent behind two hundred people on the spot.”

“You're not saying you're going to push us back for at least two hours?!”

The servant choked. The assistant, who had been watching from a few steps away, came back. He whispered into Shylock's carriage.

“…Honorable Lord, it seems difficult this time. There was a reason the last time we sent someone was beaten and returned. Arcadia does not change the order of inspections, no matter how much money I offer.”

The longer his silence lasted, the more the aide grew even more depressed. It wasn't until his hands were wet with a cold sweat that a voice like thin ice came out.

“Turn over the carriage. Make a big ruckus”

“…Yes?”

“Someone has to die so that the captain of the guard appears.”

Goosebumps rose on the aide's arms.

He gulped, as if he had gathered his tension into a lump and swallowed it. What he needed was confidence. Near-arrogant confidence that he could thwart this situation simply by arguing with the captain of the guard.

The aide concluded that it would be more convenient to sacrifice one insignificant coachman to persuade the lord. He approached the escort mercenaries crouching around the carriage.

“Hey. You guys. The coachman will check the wheels. The carriage is well supported by a pole so that it does not fall down… Release your hand when I signal.”

“Yes?”

“It's an order from the lord.”

“… Ah.”

The mercenaries quickly agreed. If it was a direct order from the Isles, he would give them more money, so he just had to gladly accept it.

The aide approached the coachman's seat and poked his leg.

“Hey. The owner of the high-class carriage said he was hearing a rattling noise, so he told me to remove the wheel and put it back in.”

“Yes? Besides, if that's the case, it's just a matter of tightening it, but if you remove the….”

“What are you saying?! Do you know what the penalty for negligence is? If you don't want to starve to death, do what you're told! After all, they will be able to stand with poles, so put aside your unnecessary worries!”

At the word of the penalty, the coachman hurriedly went down.

The coachman squatted next to the carriage and hesitated for a moment. It was difficult to make a living as the aide pressed his eyes wide open and the mercenaries firmly supported the carriage with poles.

“You must never let it go. If this collapses, I…”

“Do it quickly. Huh?”

Finally, the coachman removed the axle from the front wheel.

At that moment, the mercenaries rushed back as if they had promised. The huge wagon leaned over in an instant.

“Urgh, wait a minute, whoa!”

“Hey, the carriage flipped over!”

The carriage, which collapsed with a roar, finally hit the coachman. Dust covered all sides like a tidal wave.

The loads that had been piled up in the luggage compartment spilled over and rolled, and the horses tied to the poles were lifted up in the air, howling and rolling their hooves.

Chapter end