The Villainess Whom I Had Served for 13 Years Has Fallen-Chapter 362: Wolfgang & Desmund (2)

Darbav furrowed his brow at the carriage before him.

"Who is this?"

The carriage was so ostentatious that it hurt his eyes.

"..."

Though it wasn’t festival season, the carriage was decorated as lavishly as one meant for a grand celebration, and Darbav thought to himself,

'What an eyesore.'

Though Darbav lacked much aesthetic sense, even he found this excessive. It wasn’t as if they had so much money they didn’t know what to do with it.

He could easily guess the intent behind such decoration—it was evident to any noble who understood appearances.

'Must be a wealthy noble.'

No commoner could afford such a personal carriage. Only a noble with an abundant treasury or a wealthy merchant would be the owner, Darbav thought.

There was only one thing about it that didn’t sit right with him.

"Hmm... a noble riding in a carriage larger than the Emperor’s."

It showed the owner had less sense than a newborn. Of course, people could spend their money however they wished, but Darbav found it short-sighted.

Scoffing at the carriage, Darbav spoke to the coachman blocking his way.

"Move."

No matter who was inside that carriage, he had a place to go.

"Father, let’s go home quickly. I’m hungry."

"Just wait a bit. I’ll buy you three boxes of chocolates."

"Mmm."

Olivia was waiting. Standing under the scorching sun, they were wasting precious time.

As both a noble and a father, Darbav had no intention of giving way. The estate was only a three-minute walk away.

Giving way would mean lowering his pride as a noble.

"..."

Standing in the middle of the road, pushing Olivia’s wheelchair, Darbav glared silently at the coachman with a menacing stare.

"..." "..."

A silent standoff ensued. Would he move, or would they?

The coachman’s face began to harden with irritation, as if he were wondering if this was some kind of joke.

Logically, a person should step aside for a massive carriage. This carriage was pulled by five horses, after all. But to Desmund, logic did not apply; they stood their ground with unwavering pride.

Besides, Ferari I was officially authorized by the royal family.

[Carriage Approval Mark]

Darbav, with nothing to fear legally or socially, stood firm.

"Move aside."

"..." "Hey, old man, just move!"

"No. You move."

"Can’t you see the size of the carriage? You can just move aside!"

"I can’t see it."

"...?"

The coachman, unable to bear it any longer, barked at Darbav.

"This isn’t a joke! Do you know who’s inside this carriage?"

"Is it the Emperor?"

"Huh?"

"If not, I have no intention of moving."

"...This is insane."

The coachman gripped the reins tightly and shouted at Darbav,

"Our carriage is larger, so you should move aside."

"Isn’t it illegally modified? Legally, a standard carriage shouldn’t exceed 3–5 meters, so it seems your carriage is breaking the law."

"..." "And this carriage is officially approved by the royal family. There’s no problem with it traveling on carriage routes."

"Hah... calling that a carriage?"

Olivia, hearing this, tilted her head, puzzled.

"Calling what?"

She looked around, searching for what the coachman had referred to as "that thing." All she saw were the overly fancy carriage and Ferari I.

"Father."

"Yes?"

"What did he mean by ‘that thing’?"

"..." "Was he talking about my chair?"

Realizing the coachman’s meaning, Olivia tried to correct his misconception in the kindest way possible, as Ricardo wouldn’t like it if she spoke harshly.

"Hey, you idiot."

"Huh?"

"Yes, you."

"Wha... what did you say?"

"This isn’t ‘that thing.’ It’s a carriage. A gift from Ricardo."

The coachman, irritated by Olivia’s response, ran a hand through his hair and sighed deeply.

"Sigh... If it weren’t for the lord inside, I’d...."

"And I can’t move without it, so you need to move."

"Sigh..."

The coachman snapped, shouting at Olivia.

"If you’re a cripple, stay home like one! Why come out and cause trouble...."

"What...?"

Fed up, the coachman urged the carriage forward in a threatening manner, as if to say they’d better move if they didn’t want to get run over.

"I don’t care... If you get run over, that’s on you."

"..." "Honestly, you were as good as dead the moment you blocked this carriage."

And then—

"Gah..."

The coachman suddenly clutched his throat, struggling to breathe.

"Guh... huh..."

Darbav’s eyes were ice-cold. A chill he’d never shown to anyone else as he strode toward the coachman with measured steps.

"Who did you call a cripple?"

"Guh... guh..."

"Answer me. Who’s the cripple?"

The coachman desperately flailed, trying to punch Darbav’s hand off his collar, but Darbav didn’t relent, his voice calm as he asked,

"Who did you mean by that slur, exactly?"

He tightened his grip and demanded,

"Is the person inside your carriage a cripple?"

"Guh... guh..."

"Or did you mean yourself?"

"..." "I could make you a cripple if I wanted. Is that what you’d prefer?"

"Th-the lord inside...!!"

Darbav’s gaze shifted toward the carriage as he rephrased his question.

"So, tell me."

He gave the coachman an opportunity to explain why he had the audacity to open his mouth so carelessly.

"Then, who is it that’s riding in this carriage?"

"..." "Speak."

"..." "The Emperor?"

"..." "If it’s the Emperor, tell him I’ll start a rebellion immediately. A royal who can’t train their servants is of no use to the Empire’s future."

"...please..."

"Speak clearly. I have little patience."

Darbav’s power was beginning to crush the coachman’s windpipe.

"Let’s end this here."

A cold voice reached Darbav’s ears, releasing a surge of opposing power.

Sensing hostility, Darbav released the coachman and looked at the approaching man.

Tall and imposing, with a sharp face and dressed in immaculate formal attire.

Wolfgang Rui lowered his head in a gesture of apology to Darbav.

"It seems there’s been a misunderstanding."

"Misunderstanding?"

"I am the head of the Wolfgang family, Wolfgang Rui."

Rui bowed, but Darbav only narrowed his gaze, his expression hard.

"Are you the employer of this man?"

"Yes."

"What do you think, then?"

Darbav’s voice was icy as he asked,

"This man insulted my daughter. Do you think it fitting to tear his mouth apart, or would you say he should pay for this with his life?"

"..." "Why aren’t you answering?"

"I...."

"..." "Of course, I think he should pay with his life."

Rui raised the corner of his mouth slightly and added,

"However, creating a bloodbath over a single untrained servant is not exactly the noble course, is it? If blood is spilled in the capital, even the gods may be uncertain whose path that blood will follow."

Darbav’s expression grew colder.

"Is that a threat?"

"Not at all,"

Rui smiled smoothly.

"It’s merely a plea for mercy. After all, mercy and dignity are qualities our Wolfgang family cherishes deeply."

A crowd was gathering. People, spreading malicious rumors about Desmund while praising Wolfgang as a hero, began to murmur.

"What’s going on?"

"Looks like there was an accident."

"They’re nobles... looks like one’s grabbing the coachman’s collar."

"Wow... isn’t that guy the bad one?"

Darbav, with a kind smile, released the coachman’s collar and said,

"Haha... it seems we’ve been restraining ourselves too much."

"I’m aware of your dedication to the Empire’s safety. Other nobles are making efforts to follow Desmund’s example as well."

"Sigh..."

Darbav took a step back. He wanted to wipe them all out but held himself back.

"Ugh... Ferari I fireball..."

Olivia likely wouldn’t have approved.

Darbav turned to Olivia, making a mental note of the future, and looked back at the man bowing before him.

"If you ever cross my path again, your family will disappear from the map."

"We are grateful for Desmund’s mercy."

"Watch that mouth of yours as well."

When they returned to the estate, the atmosphere was somber. The young lady had her head down, looking glum.

"I was about to destroy that carriage, but Father stopped me...."

Darbav looked equally displeased.

"Sigh. I’m not sure where to drop a meteor on them."

I stood there, holding a bag of expensive pastries I’d lined up to buy, scratching my head and cautiously asking Kyle,

"Sir Kyle."

"..." "Why’s the atmosphere like this?"

Kyle answered in a cold tone,

"I’m considering waging a territorial war."

I see. A full-on territorial war, risking the survival of the family. Right...

"Wait, a territorial war?"

Startled by Kyle’s tone, I quickly snapped back to reality and approached Darbav.

"My lord."

"What is it?"

"Are you planning a territorial war?"

"Yes."

"With whom...?"

"Wolfgang."

"What?"

Wolfgang. The wealthiest family in the west.

With more private soldiers than any other family except the Empire itself.

Just as I wondered "why?" the young lady nonchalantly explained.

"Ricardo."

"Yes."

"Should cripples stay quietly at home?"

"...What?"

"That’s what they said."

"..." "They said people who limp should stay seated."

"Ah..."

Darbav watched silently as I walked out the door.

"Where are you going?"

I smiled faintly and answered,

"I’m off to wipe them out."

Darbav spoke seriously to Kyle and Rosanna,

"Stop him."

"Yes."

"Huh?"

He tried his best to calm down an enraged Ricardo.

It looked like he was really about to go kill them all.

"Let me go! This is the perfect time to uproot everything!"

As Darbav restrained Ricardo, he smiled inwardly.

'Still, this feels /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ good.'

It seemed like a weight had been lifted.