Indra Translations
Navigation
Noble Lady Reformation Guide Chapter 125: Characters (6)

Chapter 125: Characters (6)

The‌‍ atmosphere in the⁠ Grand Duke Beltus’s⁠‌ office was unsettling.​‌‍

When‌ Denise opened the‌‍ door and entered,‍⁠⁠ a characteristic dimness‍⁠ had already settled​ over the floor.‍

The‌‍⁠ Grand Duke, who⁠ was listening to‌​ the reports of‍‌⁠ his eldest son,​ Robenalt, and the‍ head butler, Alex,‍ lifted his gaze​⁠‌ toward the open‌ door and gave‌⁠ a benevolent smile.⁠⁠

“You’ve​ come, Denise. It‍ must have been⁠‍ exhausting to travel​‍ all the way‌ to the Ravenclaw⁠‍‌ territory.”

The‌ smile was so‍‌⁠ warm and welcoming⁠ that, to an​ outsider, the family⁠​ might have seemed⁠‌ as harmonious as⁠ the Duplains or‍⁠ the Belmierds.

However,⁠ the expressions of‌ Robenalt and Alex,‌ who were watching​‌ the duke, were⁠​‍ tense.

After‍​‌ so many years⁠⁠ serving the cunning​‌ patriarch, both knew⁠‌‍ very well that‍⁠​ his expression should‍‌⁠ never be taken‌‌⁠ at face value.​‌​

Of‌‌ course, Denise was​‌​ no different.

She​​ lowered the hem‌ of her dress,‍​ bowed her head⁠ gracefully, and greeted‌ him.

“Thank​​⁠ you for your⁠​ warm welcome, Father.”​

“Of‍​ course I must​ receive you well.‍⁠‌ You are the‌‍ most intelligent, quick,‍‍‌ and capable person⁠ in all matters‍⁠ of our Beltus‍ family. Moreover, you⁠ are my beloved​‌ daughter, so it‌ seems I have⁠ been blessed with‍ good offspring.”

“You​​ flatter me too‌​ much.”

Although​‍ it might have‌ been uncomfortable for‌​ Robenalt, the eldest‌​ son, to hear⁠⁠⁠ that Denise was‌​ the best, no‌⁠ one dared to⁠‌ comment.

Robenalt‌⁠ knew. He was‌ weak by nature,​​ lacked ambition, and​ was not fit⁠ to be the​‌‍ head of the⁠ family.

He​‌ held the position⁠‍ of heir only⁠ because he was​​ the firstborn, but‍⁠ he accepted with⁠ resignation that one⁠ day he would⁠‍ hand the position​⁠​ over to Denise.​‌

However,‌​‌ Denise had no⁠ interest in the‌⁠⁠ family’s power; on‌ the contrary, she‌‌ openly acknowledged Robenalt’s​ right of succession.‍

“Brother‍ Robenalt, it’s been⁠​‌ a while.”

“Yes.”‍‌

He⁠​ replied quietly, without‌‌⁠ raising his gaze.‍‌⁠

Denise‍​‍ took a deep‌‌ breath.

The​ duke, sitting elegantly‍ behind his desk‌‍ and stroking his‍‌⁠ arm, was a fox tainted by‍‍ greed for power.​

To‌ him, the southwest⁠ of the continent⁠‌ was nothing more‌‍⁠ than a great‌ chessboard, and every‍‌‌ human under the⁠ name of Beltus​⁠ was a piece‍⁠ to be moved​ at his whim.‌

In‍ that grand game,⁠ any piece that⁠‌‍ disobeyed had to‍​‌ be eliminated. They⁠ weren’t just useless—if‍ not removed quickly,‍ they could turn​‌⁠ into daggers aimed‌ at his throat.‍‍⁠

Purging⁠‌‌ was essential, and​⁠ justification could always‍ be invented.

The​⁠‌ Grand Duke Beltus​‌ was a man‌‍ capable of using​‍​ even his own⁠⁠‌ family as tools‌‍​ to preserve his​‍ power.

He‌ was entirely different⁠ from Duke Duplain—strong‍ but protective of⁠‍ his kin—or from​‍​ the kind and⁠ jovial Count Belmierd.‌

And‌ yet, he loved‌​​ his family too.⁠

There‍‍⁠ is no better‌ chain to bind‍⁠‍ someone than the‍‌ bond of blood.⁠​

“Denise,‌​​ I have great‍⁠ expectations for you.⁠​ And you have‌⁠‍ always fulfilled them.‌ You have contributed⁠ greatly to the‍​​ Beltus house at​‌‍ critical moments in‍⁠‍ the social circles​‍ of Ebelstein.”

“…”⁠‌

“My⁠​‍ beloved daughter Denise,‍ this unworthy father‌ will always be​‌ in your debt.”​‍

And⁠‍ under the guise​⁠ of that familial​⁠‌ love, he wrapped​‌​ her in his‍​‌ web like a spider, using her⁠​‍ as a convenient‍​‌ piece.

Denise‍ had no words⁠⁠‍ to refute him.​‌

This⁠⁠ mansion, her luxurious‍​ life, the looks‌⁠‌ of respect—all came‌​ from the prestige⁠‌ of the Beltus‌‌ family.

Therefore,‌​ betrayal was not‌⁠⁠ permitted.

A fleeting bond, a teacher from the‍​‍ slums with whom‌​ she shared a faint connection—to turn‍‍ her eyes from​‌ her family’s greatness​‍​ for that would‌⁠ be foolish. It‍ was a matter⁠‌ of reason, not​‌‌ morality.

Besides,⁠​⁠ Dereck had said⁠‍ it himself many​‌ times.

“If​​​ you want to‌ betray me, do‍ it.”

He​​‌ knew Denise’s circumstances⁠ well.

He​‍‌ knew that betraying⁠ Beltus carelessly would‌⁠ be too risky‍‍ for her position.‌‌​

So‍ he had told‌‍⁠ her that if​‌⁠ she had to‍‍ do it, she​‍‍ should do it‌ completely.

How‌ magnanimous he was.⁠⁠ His kindness should​ not be mistaken‍‌ for weakness.

Denise⁠‌‍ was the sharpest​ and most perceptive‌‌ in the family,​ and she always‍⁠ made the right‍‍ decisions. She might‌⁠ err in form,‍ but never in⁠ what was advantageous.‌‍‌

“As⁠‍​ ordered, I visited‌ the Ravenclaw domain.‌ Being a newly⁠ established territory, it⁠ still has many‍‌⁠ rough edges; its‌ organizational structure isn’t‍‌ entirely solid. That’s‍ understandable—they must have‍‌​ had too many​​ concerns when founding​‌ the Ravenclaw Training‌⁠ Center.”

Then‌‍‍ Denise took a breath and continued.​‌​

“However,‌‍‍ in the important​ aspects, Baron Ravenclaw‌‌ has managed everything⁠‌ with precision. The‍‍ military system is​⁠‍ efficient, public order⁠ is well controlled,‍​ and they seem⁠ to have measures​‍ for natural disasters.‌​ At first glance,​​‌ there are no​‌ obvious weaknesses to‌​​ exploit.”

Having⁠‌‌ said that, she​‍ paused.

She‌‍‌ couldn’t show nervousness.‌⁠​ A single drop​ of sweat would‍‍⁠ be enough for​‌ that fox to⁠ smell something unusual.‌

As​​​ always, she spoke⁠‌ naturally, as if‌ fulfilling a routine‌​ report.

In‌‌⁠ truth, Denise knew​‌ the Ravenclaw domain​ was full of​‍ weak points.

No‌ matter how meticulous⁠‌‌ Dereck was, a new territory couldn’t‍⁠‍ be managed perfectly.‍⁠‍

She⁠‍ had thought of⁠⁠ at least a dozen ways to‌ destabilize it—manipulating public‌⁠ opinion, staging false‌​ disasters, fabricating incidents—there​ were endless strategies⁠ to undermine his​​​ authority.

Even‍ so, Denise stayed‌​ silent.

It‌​ was the most​​ foolish decision she⁠‌ had made since​‌‌ entering noble society.⁠‍

Why​‌​ tip the scales‍‍⁠ in favor of​ a mere baron‍ from the suburbs,‌​⁠ betraying Beltus, who​​‌ held the true‍​ power?

A fleeting bond. A teacher who taught​​⁠ her magic. Nothing‌‍‍ more.

The⁠ Grand Duke Beltus,‍ on the other⁠‌ hand, was a cold, calculating man⁠ who would not⁠ hesitate to eliminate​​ any rebellious piece.‍

‘…’​⁠

A stupid decision. Why‍‌⁠ did she make‌ it?

She​‌ tried to find‌‌ a logical reason⁠‍ but couldn’t.

Dereck⁠​ Lydorf Ravenclaw was‌ only a minor‍‌‍ provincial noble.

But‍​ he was diligent,⁠⁠ dedicated to his‌ training, striving to​‌ improve, ambitious, consistent,​​⁠ productive.

That​ was all.

And‍⁠ yet—why couldn’t she‌‍⁠ turn her back​ on him?

— Lady Denise, you​‍⁠ are much more‌ valuable than you‌⁠​ think.

A dusty underground storage​‌ room.

Those⁠ words, spoken by​ that indifferent man,‍​⁠ had pierced the‍​ heart of Denise,⁠‌​ who had lived​‍‍ a life of​ being used and​​ exploited.

“I‍‍ see…”

She‌‌⁠ murmured, lowering her⁠‌⁠ gaze.

Unlike​‍ her, who lived‍⁠​ under the name‍ of Beltus, he​ was trying to‌‌ free himself from​‌ his fate without‍ hesitation.

What⁠‌ weighed her down‌‌​ was merely a powerful family.

What​ weighed him down​​ was the burden⁠⁠​ of an entire‍​‍ lineage and nobility.​‌‌

And⁠⁠​ seeing him break​ those chains without‍ fear—perhaps that had‌ influenced her more‌‌​ than she realized.‍⁠​

A teacher passes down⁠ knowledge.

A mentor passes down‌‌ the meaning of​​⁠ life.

Without⁠​ realizing it, Denise⁠⁠‍ had learned about⁠ life from Dereck.‌

So​ what then?

Did​ that justify protecting​​⁠ him?

Once​‌‍ something is taught,​​ it’s enough to‍‌‌ remember it and⁠ move on.

And‍⁠‌ yet, why did​ she want to‍‍‍ stand by his‍ side?

That⁠‍‌ man, hardworking but​ insignificant—could he really‍‌ be worth more​⁠‍ than the Beltus‍ family?

A fleeting bond—how much‌‌⁠ could it be‌​ worth?

The​‌ most trusted daughter​⁠‌ of the great‌ Beltus family—why would‍⁠⁠ she risk her‌‌‍ authority?

[At‍‌ those words, Lord⁠‍ Robain wept and⁠⁠ said over and​‍‌ over, “I love‌⁠‌ you, Tracy. You​​⁠ are the only⁠‍​ meaning left in​‌‌ my empty life.”​‌ It was not​​ the will of‍ my family nor‍​ the difference in‌ status that made⁠ me leave you…]​​

Suddenly,​⁠​ the lines she⁠‍⁠ had once written‍‍ with her own⁠‌ pen pierced her‌‍ heart.

Her‍ pupils trembled.

Lord‍⁠ Robain was only​‍⁠ a character in‌ a story.

But,‍‌ whether she liked‌‍​ it or not,‍‍‍ characters often reflect⁠ the will of​​​ the one holding​⁠ the pen.

Lord‌‌‍ Robain, who let‌ go of his‍‍‍ beloved Tracy because​ of the chains‌‌‍ of nobility, resembled⁠⁠ her far too‌‍ much.

Perhaps,‍ without realizing it,‌⁠​ Denise had woven​‌ her own desire⁠⁠ to escape the‌⁠ family’s yoke into‍‌‌ that story.

And,‌​ on a moonlit‍‌⁠ night, a white-haired‌​⁠ mercenary reading the‍‌‍ book in silence⁠‍‍ might have closed‍⁠​ it, looked up​ at the moon,‌⁠ and thought.

Maybe,⁠ upon reading those‌​​ passages, you understood‍‌⁠ where Denise’s self-criticism‍ came from.

That’s‍‍ why you might⁠​ have read those‌​ words seriously, and‍ that’s why you​⁠ allowed her to‍⁠ betray you.

That’s‌⁠​ why, when she‌ walked away, her​‍‌ back seemed free‍⁠ of regret.

Everything⁠‌ toppled like dominoes⁠ within Denise’s heart.​‌

She‌ could no longer‍⁠​ betray Dereck.

Even‌ if he himself‌ said it was‍ fine, even if‍⁠ he accepted facing⁠​⁠ Beltus’s will.

None‌⁠ of that mattered.​​

It‍ wasn’t Beltus’s choice.‌ It was her​‍ own.

And‍ now, she had‍ to accept the​ consequences.

“So​‍ I believe I’ll​‌ need a little​ more time. To‍​‌ find the safest‍‍​ way to crush‍ the Ravenclaw territory,⁠‍ I’ll need to‌⁠ carefully study a few cracks…”

“I‌ see.”

Denise‍⁠ tried to make⁠​ sure her words‌ didn’t raise suspicion,‌‌ but the duke‌ interrupted her.

At⁠​⁠ that moment, she‍​‍ felt something strange.​‍

She‌​‌ tried to hide⁠ it, but the‍​⁠ smallest flicker of⁠ emotion opened a crack.

And​​‍ the Grand Duke‍​ Beltus was someone‌ who never overlooked‍⁠‍ a crack—no matter‍​ how small.

“Father…?”‌

At​ some point, the‍⁠​ warm and familiar‌‍ smile had vanished.​

The‍‍ duke’s face was‍​‍ as cold as​‍⁠ marble.

Butler⁠‍​ Alex and Robenalt‍⁠ already had completely‍ stiff expressions.

They⁠‌‌ had noticed something​‌‌ was wrong.

When‌ Denise lifted her​‌‍ gaze, she saw⁠​⁠ that the duke⁠ was looking at‌ her with a frozen stare.

***‍‌

“You’re​‍‌ planning to attack​ Beltus.”

Baroness⁠ Pheline, lying in⁠ the guest room⁠ and still unable‍⁠ to overcome her‌ hangover, barely lifted⁠⁠ her head.

Dereck,​ who had come​‍ to see her​ early in the⁠⁠ morning, placed some⁠ snacks on the​⁠‌ table to ease​⁠ her discomfort and‍‍‌ sat in a corner.

“Ugh…‍ Ugh…”

“…”‍⁠

“What‍ are you talking‍​ about…? Ugh… the​ hangover…”

“Did‍⁠ you drink again‍ last night?”

“Even​ if this is‍ a country noble’s‌ house, the atmosphere​‍⁠ here is great.‌​ They’ve got alcohols‍⁠ you can’t even‍​⁠ find in taverns‌‌ or back alleys…”⁠‍‌

“And⁠‌‍ you drank everything⁠ that was sent‌ as gifts for‍​​ the border nobles?”⁠

“You⁠​ don’t even like⁠​ to drink anyway.⁠ Someone like me,‍‌ who knows how‌​ to appreciate the‌ flavor, should handle‍‌‌ it. That way,‌ the liquor will‍‍ be happier.”

Pheline‍ raised her face,​​‌ still marked with‍ drool, sat up⁠ in bed, disheveled‌​​ and yawning with‌‍ a sigh.

Her⁠ clothes were so‍ messy that any‌​ stranger would have‌ been embarrassed, but‍‍ neither she nor‌‍ Dereck cared.

They‍⁠ had treated each‍‌‍ other for years​‌ with the rough‌⁠‍ familiarity of two‌ people long accustomed​‌​ to ignoring one​‍ another.

“By⁠⁠​ the way, attacking⁠ Beltus. Even I,⁠​ who’s already sick⁠ of the noble‌ world, have heard‌ that name plenty⁠ of times. They’re‍ the kind of‌⁠​ people who do‌ whatever they want⁠ and live large,⁠ right?”

“Yes.‌⁠ I’m thinking of‍‌ attacking them.”

“Well,‌ I’m sure you’ve​‍⁠ got your reasons,​ Dereck. But why⁠‍ are you telling​‌ me this?”

“I‍‍ want to ask​‌⁠ for help—from you​⁠⁠ and the Beldern​‌ Mercenary Corps.”

Pheline⁠​ burped softly and‍​​ brought a hand⁠ to her temples.‌‍

“Ugh…​‍‌ What? Our help?”​⁠‍

“You‌‌​ don’t want to?”‌‍‍

“Do⁠⁠⁠ I look like⁠ the kind of⁠‍​ woman who’d turn‌​‍ down a chance‍‍ to legally beat​‍ up nobles?”

“I⁠​ knew you’d say‌‍ that.”

Pheline‍ grinned broadly and‍‍ sought confirmation.

“So,‍‍‍ what’s your plan?”​

“I’m‌‌​ going to openly‍‌‍ strike at the​ Beltus territory. The​​ Ravenclaw Barony’s military​⁠ strength is weak,​ so I plan‍⁠‌ to gather reinforcements⁠‍⁠ from various places.‍ The Beldern Corps​⁠​ will be one‌​ of them.”

“As​​​ long as you‌​⁠ pay old Jayden⁠​ well, he’ll help‌‌ you with anything.⁠ But tell me,⁠‌​ will there really⁠ be other forces⁠‍ willing to oppose‍ a family as​‌​ powerful as Beltus?”‍⁠

“I⁠ plan to gain‌‍ support from Belmierd‍ and form an‍ alliance with the​‍⁠ Viscounty of Renouel.”‌‌‍

“Wow,⁠‍⁠ you’re taking this‌​‌ more seriously than⁠​‍ I thought. But⁠ hey—I don’t know⁠‌ much about noble‍⁠ stuff, don’t you‍​ need some kind⁠ of reason or⁠‍ justification to attack‍‍⁠ other nobles?”

It​​‍ was a sharp‌‌ observation. But Dereck‌ had already anticipated​⁠ that.

“We’ll‌ set a trap​ for them. We’ll⁠‍ create the justification‌‌ needed to unite‍⁠ the nobles and​‌‌ strike Beltus.”

“That’s⁠‍ your part, but‌ what matters is⁠ the real reason.‌​ Why do you⁠⁠‍ want to hit‍​⁠ Beltus when they​ haven’t done anything⁠‌ to you?”

Not‍​ the public reason—the‍‌​ true one.

Pheline’s​​‌ words were coarse,‍​​ but always direct.‍​‌

After​ all, she had‍‍⁠ spent her entire​ life on the​​​ battlefield, thinking only‍‌ in practical terms.‍‍‍

“If‌⁠⁠ I stay still,​⁠⁠ Beltus will be‌ the one to⁠‍‌ strike first.”

Dereck‌‌​ answered in his‍‌‍ own way.

“The⁠ Beltus family hasn’t‍⁠‌ done anything particularly​‌ bad—at least not‌ yet.”

They‍‌ had tried to⁠‍⁠ ambush Pheline, but⁠ failed, and no‍⁠ physical evidence remained.⁠

Even‍ so, it couldn’t​‍‍ be taken lightly.⁠ Anticipating them was⁠‌‍ only natural.

“They⁠ probably don’t hate⁠‍ me personally, and​‍‍ even if they’re‌⁠ planning something, nothing’s⁠⁠ been revealed yet.‍ In public, they‍​ maintain a polite​‌⁠ attitude. Their dignity⁠ remains intact, and​‍ their lineage is‍⁠‍ still solid.”

“…”‍​​

“But‌‍⁠ you know me,‌​ Pheline—I’m not the‍‍​ type to sit⁠ still and wait‍⁠ for the blow⁠⁠⁠ to come.”

Dereck‍ spoke with a cold look while‌‌ still seated.

Pheline​‍⁠ watched him, her‌ expression unreadable.

“I​‍ don’t know much‌ about nobles, but⁠⁠ anyone who’s rolled​ around the mercenary⁠​​ world knows that‍ waiting until the⁠ enemy cuts your‍ throat is pure‍‌ stupidity. The one‍‌‍ who draws their​‍ sword first gains‍​​ the advantage, and​‌⁠ the one who‌⁠⁠ pulls the bowstring‌⁠ earlier wins.”

“…”‌

“I​​ won’t offer my‌‍‌ neck just because​ the enemy hasn’t​‌ bared their fangs⁠‍ yet. That’s the​ only reason I’m⁠ attacking Beltus. Is‍⁠ that really so​ hard to understand?”⁠

It‌ was a preemptive‌ strike against someone‌‌ who hadn’t even‌ revealed their true⁠‌ intentions.

A decision that hovered‌ between self-defense and‍ malice.

How​⁠ should one judge⁠⁠ his actions?

Rigid‌⁠ nobles, lovers of‌ propriety, would call​‌ it reckless and⁠‍ try to stop‌‌ him.

“Hard‍⁠ to understand? No,‌‍ it’s perfect.”

Pheline,⁠​ however, let out​⁠ a laugh so‌ wide it looked⁠ like the corners‍​ of her mouth​‌‍ might reach her​ ears.

That‍ was just how‌ she was—a woman‍‌⁠ who, at the‍‌ prospect of a fight, smiled with‌ genuine delight.

What did you think of this chapter?
0 reactions

0 Comments


There are no comments yet. Be the first!

Reader Settings
Page mode
Timer
Text Indent
Auto scroll
Tap to read
Pin menu
Translate page
Select language to automatically translate chapter content.
Audio & AI Voice
This chapter has pre-loaded audio
Ads Blocker Image Powered by Code Help Pro

Ads Blocker Detected!!!

We have detected that you are using extensions to block ads. Please support us by disabling these ads blocker.