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Noble Lady Reformation Guide Chapter 168: Ancient Hero (2)

Chapter 168: Ancient Hero (2)

Siern‍⁠‌ Alaina Rochester kills​⁠‍ people.

She​‍ possesses a savage⁠ nature, like that⁠ of a beast​⁠ crossing the northern‌ tundra.

The‍ instant one meets⁠‌ the gaze of‍​​ those eyes that⁠⁠‌ shoot forth a cutting gleam, the​ unfortunate prey’s neck‌‍ has already been​⁠ severed.

At⁠‌ an age when⁠‍ she had not‍‍ even celebrated her​‌⁠ coming-of-age ceremony, she⁠​⁠ had already mastered​⁠​ 3-star magic.

She⁠ wandered barefoot through‍ the extreme environment⁠‍⁠ of the snowy‌ wasteland, cutting down⁠ everything that stood​ in her way‌‌⁠ and soaking herself​‍ in blood.

If⁠‌ you ever, while‍‌ crossing the tundra‌ near the Rochester‌ territory, happen to‌‌ see a barefoot​‍‌ girl in a dress, standing amid‍​⁠ a storm, never‍ make a reckless⁠​ move.

The​⁠​ figure that seems‍‍ like nothing more‌ than a distant​⁠ silhouette beyond the‌​ white expanse may​⁠ be standing before‌‌ you the instant‍⁠⁠ you blink.

That​​ is nothing less​‌‌ than the embodiment⁠​‍ of fear.

Never​ provoke her.

— Northern Tundra Explorer,⁠ Leopold.

***‌​

“…”‌​

“…There‍⁠‌ was still one‍​ more volume. I could swear we‍ had recovered them⁠‍ all when they​​ were designated as‍‍ prohibited books.”

“The‍‌‌ Siern who appears‍ in this record…⁠ is she really​ my daughter Siern…⁠⁠⁠ Melverot?”

“I⁠‌‌ already explained the⁠ situation to you.⁠ Thanks to your⁠ efforts, the great​​ monster Noir disappeared,‌‌ but due to‍⁠‍ the residual impact‌ of its magic,​‌ Siern cannot control​ her own power.”‍

The‌‌ Rochester family mansion‍‌ was completely covered⁠ with carpets, fireplaces,‍ and insulating layers​ against the cold.‌‌

For⁠ an influential noble‌ house, its appearance‍ was somewhat crude,‌ but in the⁠‌‍ middle of the⁠​ frozen wasteland, there​⁠‌ was no other‍​ choice if they​ wanted to survive.‍‌⁠

Crackle,‍‌‌ crackle.

Sitting‌​‍ side by side​ before the crackling​ fire, Melverot and‍​ Kalimford were old‌ friends.

They​⁠‍ met on the‍⁠ battlefield, rivaled one‌‍ another, argued, fought,⁠‌ and even so‌‍ walked countless paths‍ together.

At‌​⁠ times they lost.​

At⁠⁠​ times they won.⁠

Companions‍​ gradually joined them.‌​​

They⁠ fought enemies that​ put the fate‌ of the world⁠​ at stake.

Some‍‍⁠ sacrificed themselves. Others​‍⁠ survived and continued‌ living.

If⁠​ one were to‍‍​ recount that journey‌ in detail, it​ would be an⁠ endless story.

But​​ now, all of⁠‌‍ that belonged to‍ the past.

Old⁠‌⁠ heroes are relegated​‍‍ to history, settling​‌‍ like sediment as‌‌ time passes.

Eras‌ advance. What must⁠​ happen, happens.

It‌‌‌ is enough for​ them to remain⁠​‌ as statues in‌‍ imperial facilities or‌‌‌ as a single⁠ line in a thick book.

Perhaps⁠‍‍ stepping down from​ the stage when​‍ the time comes​⁠‌ is the true⁠‍ role of an‍ old hero.

Melverot,​ who had spent⁠​⁠ his years alone‌‍‌ in this cold‌‌‌ and desolate tundra,​​​ surrounded only by⁠ the remnants of‌⁠​ Noir, may have‍ thought the same.‌

At‍‌ least, until Kalimford⁠ appeared before him‌‌‍ once more.

“Well,⁠​​ you really do‍‌ have to live⁠‍⁠ long enough to‍ see things like​​⁠ this.”

“So​‍‌ it seems. I never thought I’d‍‌ see wrinkles of‌​​ fate on your​​ face.”

“On​​ the other hand,‌‍ you’re just the‌‍ same as ever.‍​‍ Reina… no, was‌‌‍ it Fina now?‍‍ You should be​⁠‌ grateful to that‍ black mage.”

“I‍⁠‍ don’t know… at​‍ least, I don’t‌ think she’s grateful‍ to me.”

When⁠ he saw Kalimford⁠‌⁠ for the first​⁠ time, Melverot doubted⁠‍ his own eyes‌‍⁠ several times.

He‌​​ thought someone was‍⁠⁠ using some sort​ of trick and⁠ deployed all kinds⁠⁠ of exploration magic.‍​⁠

Only​​ after hearing the‍ explanation did he​‌‌ manage to regain‌‌​ his composure.

He‌‌ had been through⁠ too much to⁠ lose his cool​⁠‌ over something like‌ this.

Even‌​ the return of​‌ a dead old⁠⁠ friend was something‌ he could accept,​‌ if he understood‍‌ the circumstances.

Even​‍ so, Kalimford had‍‍ changed greatly.

Perhaps​​ because he had​​ just been resurrected​‍⁠ through black magic.‌

His⁠​‍ magical presence was⁠⁠ almost nonexistent.

His⁠ body was skeletal,‌‍‍ his gaunt face‌​ more like a corpse with skin‌‌ attached than a living person.

“Time‍‍ has passed, Kalimford.​ I am already⁠‌ someone of the‍​​ past.”

“In⁠ my case, I clung to life,​⁠‌ but I don’t‍⁠ differ much from‍ your reflection. Our‍‌‍ era has already‌​‍ ended.”

In‌⁠ the room, only⁠​‌ the crackling of​ the fire echoed,‌⁠ along with flickering⁠​‌ shadows.

Outside,​​ the blizzard raged‍‍ without rest.

The‍ sound of glass⁠‌ trembling, of snow‌‍ striking the window,‌‌ of icy wind⁠​‌ seeping through the‌‍ cracks.

They‌⁠⁠ traveled the world​​ together.

They​ reached out toward‌ the sky, etched‍​​ the stars into​‍ their eyes, and‌⁠ turned the entire‍ world into their⁠⁠ stage.

They‌⁠ had companions worthy⁠ of pride, and​ applause and ovations​⁠ followed them everywhere.⁠‍

And⁠‌⁠ at the end‌‌‌ of that journey,⁠

All⁠⁠ that remained were‌⁠‌ a fireplace stocked​‍ with abundant firewood,‌‌‍ warm blankets, and⁠‌​ a bit of​​ hot goat’s milk.‍

Kalimford⁠⁠​ received the wooden‍‍​ jug with trembling​⁠⁠ hands.

His‍​ weakened strength made​ it seem as​​ though he could⁠ barely hold it‌‍ properly.

“Siern…‍​ did she go‍⁠ to the southwest⁠‍ of the continent​⁠ to learn magic?”⁠​‌

“That’s⁠‍ right. For a time, I couldn’t‌​‍ find anyone capable​⁠ of taking charge⁠‌⁠ of that troublesome⁠ child. But recently‌‌​ I managed to⁠ establish contact with‍‌⁠ a decent master‍​⁠ in the southwest,​ granted him an​​ appropriate title, and​‌ entrusted Siern to‍‌‌ him.”

“…”​‍

“If‌‌ you knew everything‌‌‌ that’s piled up,​ you’d be clicking‍​ your tongue too.‌‍‌ You left behind‍‍‍ such a troublesome​⁠‍ daughter and made‍​ me shoulder everything​ for years, Kalimford.‌ A bad relationship‌ like yours is⁠‍‍ already starting to​⁠‌ wear me out.”​​

Although​ Melverot spoke as‍ if he were‌ furious, Kalimford’s expression⁠‌‍ relaxed even more‍ as he received​ the jug.

He⁠⁠‌ said those things,⁠ but throughout all⁠‍ those years he​ had done everything⁠​ possible for Siern.​⁠​

The‌​⁠ tower erected exclusively‍ for her was‍‌ proof of that.‍​

Since‌​​ Siern left the‌ Rochester territory, that​ tower had remained​‍⁠ empty, standing silently‌ in the middle⁠ of the wasteland.‌⁠⁠

“I⁠ already sent a letter to the⁠​ master. I asked‌⁠ him to bring⁠ Siern to the​⁠‌ Rochester territory. You’ll⁠‍ want to see⁠ the face of‌​⁠ that neglected daughter​ of yours too.”⁠‍

“…”‍‌⁠

“Your‍⁠ expression is strange.⁠​‌ I understand that⁠‌ you’re emotional, but⁠ don’t show something‌⁠ so pathetic. You​⁠ also need to​​ think about how‍ that girl will⁠‍ feel when she​ meets her real⁠⁠ father for the​⁠‍ first time.”

“…That’s⁠⁠​ not it, Melverot.”⁠

At⁠‌ Melverot’s puzzled look,​​⁠ Kalimford rolled up‍⁠ his dry sleeve⁠​ to show it.‍‌

The‌ flesh had begun‍ to rot. Near​ the shoulder, the⁠‌ color was already‌‍⁠ a blackish red.⁠‌⁠

“…”​​⁠

“…Even​​‌ though I was​ resurrected through black⁠ magic, I don’t‍​ truly belong to‍‌ this world. I don’t know how‍ long I’ll be​​ able to endure,⁠‌ but when the⁠ black magic sustaining‌ this body is​‍ exhausted, I will‌‌‌ return to nothing.”⁠​⁠

“…How​ long do you​ think it will​ last?”

“Don’t‌‌ worry. I still⁠ have some leeway.‍‌‍ But it won’t‍‍‌ be infinite.”

Kalimford‍‌‍ lowered his sleeve,⁠​‌ ran a hand⁠‌‍ over his face,​ and continued.

“She​‌‍ considers you her‌‍⁠ father. She’s living‍‌‌ the life she‌ was given with‍‌ all her strength.⁠ That’s why… I don’t want to‌ confuse Siern by​‍ appearing now, only‌ to disappear later​ as I rot‍​ away.”

With​‌ effort, Kalimford straightened​‌ up and placed‌​⁠ a hand on​ Melverot’s shoulder, smiling​‌​ gently.

“The‍​ father of that‍‌‌ girl… must continue‌‌ to be you,​‍ Melverot.”

“…”⁠​⁠

“I’m‍‍⁠ really sorry to⁠‌ always ask you​ for things so‌⁠ heavy…”

That​ man, bowing in‍‍‍ shame, had undoubtedly‌ been a hero‍ who once saved‌​ the world.

To‍‌‌ think that the‌‌⁠ end of a hero would be‍ so humble made‌ it impossible for⁠‌​ Melverot to look​​ away.

“Before‌⁠ and now, you⁠ always manage to‍⁠⁠ complicate my life…”⁠⁠​

He​‍ said it harshly,​⁠ but lowered his⁠‌ gaze in silence.‍

Melverot‌⁠ was the perfect⁠​‌ example of someone‍⁠ whose words never⁠ matched his actions.⁠

***‌⁠⁠

After⁠ that, Kalimford spread‌‌ out one by‌​⁠ one the writings​‍​ that Melverot and‌⁠​ Siern had exchanged,‍‍ and read them‍‌ carefully.

When​ Siern first left‌ the Rochester territory‍⁠ and headed for‍⁠‌ Ebelstein, she was⁠⁠ filled with anxiety,⁠ worry, and unease.‍​​

The​‌ constant fear that‌‍ the blood of⁠⁠ Noir latent within​‌ her might take⁠⁠‌ control of her‍ mind again at⁠‌⁠ any moment.

The‌ anguish of thinking⁠ that one day⁠‍ she might kill⁠‍‍ someone again, become‍ an object of⁠ fear and contempt,‍ and be expelled‍ from the group‍⁠ once more.

As‌ he read each‌⁠‌ of Siern’s concerns,‌‍⁠ written while she​​‍ writhed amid that‌⁠‍ desperate terror, Kalimford’s⁠⁠ heart grew heavier​​​ and heavier.

But⁠‌ little by little,‍ those anxieties began‌ to dissipate.

And‌​​ it was only‍‌‍ natural.

As​ she traveled back⁠‌‍ and forth between⁠ Ebelstein and the​‍ territory of Baron​ Ravenclaw, learning various‍ kinds of magic⁠‍​ and the education‍​​ befitting a lady,⁠‍​ Siern gradually left⁠ behind those gloomy,‌ oppressive worries.

The‌⁠ fragile girl who,​⁠ at the top⁠​‌ of a tower​ in the tundra,‍ hugged her knees⁠​‌ and cried in⁠ silence.

Now,‍⁠‍ at some point​​ without anyone noticing,​ she was steadily‍ growing into a young lady, surrounded‌‌ by magical grimoires,‌​ in the midst​ of a temperate‍​ meadow.

The​‌‍ tone of the⁠ letters she sent⁠ to Melverot also​ changed little by⁠ little.

The​‍ confessions laden with‌ fear, anxiety, and‍​​ anguish had practically​‍ disappeared.

In​ their place, the⁠‍​ letters were filled​ with accounts of‌​ new environments and​‍ people she was⁠‌ meeting for the‍ first time, and⁠‍​ of her day-to-day⁠ life learning new‍‌⁠ things alongside them.⁠​

***‍‍​

— Today, a young⁠​‌ lady from the‍‍‌ family of Count‍⁠ Belmierd personally came‍ to the territory‌ of Baron Ravenclaw.⁠‍ Her name was‌​​ Ellen. Not only⁠ commoners, but also‌⁠ nobles and high-ranking‌ relatives treat her⁠‍ as if she‍ were a queen.‌ Every gesture and‌ every word of‍⁠⁠ hers overflows with‌‍​ the dignity befitting​⁠‍ a sovereign. I thought that ladies‍ like that also‍ exist in this⁠‍ world.

— I received basic⁠⁠ instruction in transformation‌ magic from Baron​‌⁠ Ravenclaw again. I realized that the‍‌⁠ transformation magic I used before, when​⁠ I wandered the​‍ tundra, relied too‍‌ much on instinct⁠ and intuition. I think that if‌‌ I try harder,‌‌ I’ll be able​‍‍ to raise my​ level.

— Young Trisha suddenly‍⁠​ challenged me to​ a duel, and​ I ended up‌‍⁠ attacking with too​ much force. I myself was very​ frightened, thinking that‍​ the cursed blood‍ inside me might​⁠ run out of‍​ control, but I think I managed​ it well.

— Today I tried‌ a mont blanc⁠⁠ prepared by the​ pastry chef of‍​‌ the Ravenclaw mansion…‌⁠‌

— I took several‌ walks through the⁠ prairies near Ebelstein…​‌

Ssshh.‍

“…”​⁠‌

***⁠⁠‌

In⁠ Melverot’s study, Kalimford​‍‌ set the letters‍​ down and rubbed‌​ his eyes several⁠‍ times.

Just‌‍‌ as Melverot had⁠⁠​ said, Siern had⁠ endured an unfortunate​​‍ childhood under the​⁠​ influence of Noir’s​‌​ blood, but now⁠‍ she seemed to⁠ have found a good master and⁠ to be following‍‌‌ the right path.⁠​‌

By​⁠ nature, Siern was​​⁠ a person of⁠ few words and‌​​ a cold temperament.‍​

However,‍ judging only from​‌ the letters she⁠ exchanged with Melverot,‍ she seemed like‌‌‍ a sensitive young⁠ lady, capable of‍ perceiving beauty in‍⁠ a world full‍​‌ of colors.

Those‌​ who understood that⁠​‌ gap might feel‍‌ a certain strangeness,‌‍⁠ but for Kalimford,​⁠‌ who had not‌‌ yet seen Siern⁠ in person, those‍‌ letters alone were​‌ enough to bring​⁠ tears of emotion⁠⁠‍ to his eyes.⁠

Just‌‍​ from the contents​​ of those letters,‌ he already felt‍‌ as though he‍‌‍ had been saved.​

It‌‍⁠ had been worth​ sacrificing himself to⁠‍​ save the world.‍‍‍

At⁠​⁠ the very least,‌ his daughter was⁠ living in a world free from‍⁠ the horror of‌‌⁠ war and the‌‍‌ constant danger of​‌ death.

Kalimford​​‌ read the letters⁠​ again and again,⁠‍​ revisiting Siern’s stories.‍⁠

Among‍‍ the accounts of⁠‍ noble society in⁠‌ Ebelstein, the name⁠‌‌ that appeared most‍‌ frequently was, without‍​⁠ a doubt, that‍‌ of Baron Ravenclaw.​‍​

It‍ was repeated again‌⁠ and again that⁠ she had met​ an irreplaceable master⁠ in her life‌ and was receiving‍‌ invaluable instruction.

“Dereck‍​‍ Lydorf, Baron Ravenclaw…”‌

That​​⁠ name became naturally‍⁠‌ engraved in his‍⁠‌ mind.

At‍ least for now,⁠ Siern seemed to‍​‍ trust that man⁠‍‌ from the bottom​‌ of her heart,⁠‌​ a man recognized‍‍ in Ebelstein as​‌‍ one of the‌‍⁠ finest teachers.

While⁠ recovering in the⁠‍ ducal mansion of​‍⁠ Rochester, Kalimford imagined‌ again and again​⁠ what Siern would⁠​⁠ be like as​ an adult.

Wearing‌​⁠ a beautiful dress,​​ her white hair—so⁠⁠ much like her‌‍ mother’s—falling softly, walking⁠ with elegant bearing​‍ like a true​ lady.

***​⁠

Bang!⁠ Boom!

Crash!⁠ Whaam!

And​⁠ the very next‍ day, Siern arrived⁠‌‍ at the ducal‍ mansion of Rochester.‍⁠

Carrying‍‌ over her shoulder​​‌ the corpse of‍‌‍ a monstrous creature‌‌‍ shaped like a gigantic polar bear.‌

Fwoosh.⁠⁠​ Crunch.

The‍ cutting wind of‌‌​ the tundra whipped‍ her hair.

She‌‌⁠ was a girl⁠⁠‍ completely white from‍⁠⁠ head to toe,⁠ but that day‍ she was stained‍⁠​ a vivid red,‌‍ drenched in blood.​

The‍​ creature, dozens of‌‌‌ times larger than‌​ she was, hung⁠⁠ limp, its life‍ completely extinguished.

The‍‍ barefoot girl passed​‌​ through the iron​​ gates of the​ main entrance, immediately​ drawing the attention⁠​ of everyone in‍‍‍ the mansion.

She‍ wiped away the‍‌ blood and said⁠ casually,

“I​⁠ ran into it​‍​ on the way.”​‌

The​ monster’s corpse, tossed‍⁠‍ aside as if‍⁠ it were nothing,⁠​‍ sent chills down​​​ the spines of⁠‍⁠ the household members.​

The​​‌ most feared killer‌‌ of the north‌ was none other⁠‍ than Siern.

She⁠​ had returned home.‌‌

***‍‌​

“We⁠ were traveling by​‍ carriage when a group of creatures⁠‍‍ suddenly attacked us.‍‌⁠ I knew it⁠‌‍ was dangerous land,⁠ but I didn’t​​ think they’d appear‌⁠ so frequently. The⁠⁠⁠ last time I came, something similar⁠‌‍ happened.”

Dereck⁠ wore a cloak‌ over his coat‌‌ and was equipped‍‍ with all kinds‌⁠ of fur-lined cold-weather​‌‍ garments.

Shaking‍‍​ off the snow‍‍​ and wiping away​‍⁠ the blood, he‍ spoke in a tone of lament.‌

“Still,‌ we arrived earlier⁠‌ than expected. Miss​⁠​ Siern had dressed​ very carefully, but‌ she ended up‌ getting discouraged because⁠ she had to⁠⁠ change clothes.”

As⁠‌​ soon as they⁠⁠ arrived at the⁠ Rochester mansion, Siern⁠​‌ had to follow⁠​‍ the maids to⁠‌⁠ change out of​​‌ her blood-soaked dress.‍

At​ the moment, she‍ seemed to be⁠‌⁠ bathing in the‍⁠⁠ annex.

“…”‍‍​

Melverot‌⁠ was sitting by‍‍‍ the gate of​⁠⁠ the mansion, his‍ chin resting on​​ his hand.

He‌​‌ was waiting for‌ Dereck to finish‌‌​ getting himself in​⁠‌ order.

“It‍‌ was a long​‍ journey. Good work.”‍‍

“It​⁠ was nothing.”

“As​ you well know,​‌ saying that I wanted to see⁠ Siern is nothing‍‍‍ more than a pretext.”

Taking‍⁠ advantage of Siern’s​‍ absence, Melverot spoke‍ bluntly.

In‌‍ fact, it was‍​‌ something Dereck had‌‍​ already anticipated.

Melverot​​⁠ was not so‌⁠ foolish as to​‍‌ make a subordinate‍⁠‍ cross the continent‌ for a purely​ personal reason.

“But‌ before getting into‌​​ the main topic,​⁠ I want to⁠​ see your face.‌‌ Since you’re here.”‍‍‍

With‌​ that, Melverot stood‌ up and, with‌‍‍ an indifferent expression,‍‍ headed into the​⁠‌ mansion.

A few snowflakes followed‍ him inside and​ melted on the‍‍‍ floor.

In⁠ any case, it​‍ seemed he wanted‌‍​ to see Siern‍‌​ first.

“…”‍

Since⁠ Melverot often behaved‍‌​ like this, Dereck​ finished getting himself​ ready with the‌ same indifferent expression.‍⁠

He‍‌ had returned to‍ the ducal mansion‌‍ of Rochester after‍⁠⁠ a long time.‍⁠

When⁠​⁠ he lifted his‌ gaze to the‍​ sky, he saw‌⁠ snow falling endlessly​‌​ over the spire‍⁠​ of the tower,​ as always.

While‌⁠ spring was about⁠ to arrive in‍‍ the southwest of​ the continent, here‌ it was always⁠ winter.

The⁠​‍ silent tundra, with‍ no trace of‍ visitors.

Looking⁠⁠⁠ out over the‍ white expanse of‍‍ the Rochester territory​‍‌ gave the impression⁠ of seeing the⁠‍‌ calm that remains​⁠ after a grand⁠‌ performance has ended.​

In​⁠‌ another time, this⁠‌ place had been​ a battlefield where​ many heroes were​⁠ born.

But​‍‍ now all of‌ that was in​‌ the past.

Dereck⁠ shook the snow⁠ from his head⁠ and began walking​​ toward the interior​‍ of the mansion.‍

Just‍ as, guided by​​ the household members,‌⁠ he was heading⁠‌​ for the resting‍ room—

“Are‌ you Dereck?”

In‍‌‌ the main hall‌‌ of the mansion,​‌⁠ a gaunt man‌ wrapped in a reddish-brown robe was‌⁠ standing.

Numerous‍ household members surrounded‍‌ him, yet no‌​ one dared to‍‍​ address him or‌ stop him, despite‍ his disheveled appearance.‌⁠

Amid⁠⁠ that strange sense‌​ of discomfort, the​⁠‌ man spoke, bright​‌ eyes gleaming from‍ beneath the shadow​⁠ of his hood.‍

“Siern’s⁠​ master.”

Dereck‍‍​ frowned slightly and‍​ adopted a cautious‌​ stance.

Even​​ though his exploration⁠‌​ magic had reached‌ a considerable level,‌ he could not⁠ gauge that man’s⁠​ power.

That​​⁠ meant only one⁠ thing.

Not​ even Dereck could⁠‍ read his level.​⁠

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