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Noble Lady Reformation Guide Chapter 76: People (3)

Chapter 76: People (3)

Siern‌‌ was hugging her⁠ knees, her head​ buried in a corner of the‍‍ central tower of‌⁠​ the Rochester mansion.⁠

While‍⁠⁠ she had been⁠⁠ out, the sheets​ on the soft‌‌ bed had been‍⁠ changed for clean​ ones. Even in‌⁠‍ such a frightening​‌ situation, the servants‍‍ of the Rochester​ family continued to⁠‌ fulfill their duties​‌⁠ to the end.⁠​

Feeling​⁠⁠ that uprightness, Siern⁠ remained still, head‌‍‌ down, not moving‍ an inch.

In⁠​⁠ the silence, the‌ only sound in‍‍‍ Siern’s room was‍‌‍ the tinkling of⁠ the windowpanes, shaken​⁠ by the storm⁠‍ outside.

The​‍ desolate scene stood⁠‍ in stark contrast‍‌⁠ to places like⁠ the Duplain mansion,⁠ located in the‌ midst of a fertile prairie. This‌‌ girl had always‍​ grown up in​‌ such a bleak‌ environment.

And​ so, she remembered‍​ her earliest memory.‍​

At‍‌‍ an age when⁠ she couldn’t even‍​⁠ read, she killed⁠‌ an entire pack‌​‌ of wolves in‌ the snowy northern‌⁠ fields.

Even‌ at preschool age,‌ she had already⁠‍⁠ reached a level⁠‌ where she could⁠​‌ kill beasts using⁠​⁠ only her immature‌​ magical senses.

Covered‌ in blood in‌ the snowfield, when‌⁠ she suddenly came⁠ to, the whole​​ world was drenched‍⁠‌ in the smell⁠ of blood.

A cold body that⁠⁠‌ didn’t even feel⁠​‍ the cold. When​‌‍ she saw the‌​ half-dead wolf sobbing,‍ her father, Melverot,‌⁠ came running and‌‌ grabbed her wrist.​​

Thus,‌‍ the girl was⁠‌‍ dragged by Melverot’s‍‍​ strength and walked⁠‌ again through the⁠​‌ snowy field. They​‍ did nothing but‍​ march straight back‌‍ to the Rochester‍‍ mansion.

Knock,⁠⁠ knock.

Melverot’s‌ back, which the‌ girl watched from‍​ below, was steady.⁠ His expression wasn’t​‌​ visible.

The‌⁠​ back of her‍‌ father, simply dragging‍ her forward, was​ the earliest image‍‌ Siern could recall.⁠​‌

***‌​

“What‌‍ a bold request‌‍ you make. You​⁠‌ should know better​ than anyone that​ titles in this⁠ era are not‍‍ something easily traded.”​​

“Yes.​‌ No one is⁠‍​ unaware of that.”⁠

“You‍ know well how‍ many years it‍⁠ took your master,‍‌⁠ Drest, to receive​ a barony without‍ even owning land,‍‍‍ don’t you?”

“Yes,​ but Master Drest’s‌‌‍ situation was quite‌​ different.”

Dereck‍ continued speaking without‍ changing his expression.⁠​ It seemed all‍‍⁠ his tension and‌​⁠ anxiety had transferred‌⁠‌ to Aiselin, who​ stood behind him.​​

Indeed,‍‍ Aiselin looked quite‍ flustered, as if‌ she hadn’t expected​‍‍ Dereck to say‍ something like that.‍​

“My‌ master Drest didn’t​‍ get along with⁠⁠​ the nobility. I,‌​ on the other‌⁠ hand, maintain ties‌ with several prestigious⁠​ families, and my‍ magical abilities are​‌ not lacking.”

“It‍ seems you’re not​ aware how closed-off‍ the high nobility‍​ in the capital⁠⁠ is.”

“I’m‍ very aware. That’s‍‍ why I ask‌‍ for your help,​‌ Lord Melverot.”

No​⁠ one would deny‌​ this is the​ age of nobility.‌⁠⁠

And⁠​ magic was no​​‍ less than a symbol of that⁠​‌ privilege. Their survival⁠‍ strategy was to​⁠⁠ preserve pure bloodlines,​⁠ protect acquired interests,‌ and kick away⁠​‍ the ladder from⁠​⁠ the undeserving.

To​ grab their ankles,‌ one needs proper‌‌ backing.

If‍‌ Dereck managed to​ secure the support⁠‌‌ of Duplain, Beltus,​‍ Belmierd, and even⁠ Melverot, then the⁠‍ idea of him‍​ receiving a title​ wouldn’t be so​​ far-fetched.

Even‍⁠ a minor title,⁠ the lowest one,‌⁠⁠ would suffice. Once⁠​​ he broke into‍ that world, climbing​‌ within it would‌‍ depend solely on‍ Dereck’s abilities.

Melverot,​ who quickly grasped⁠​ Dereck’s intentions, let⁠‌‌ out a dry‌ chuckle.

Ambition‌ must be proportional‌‌‍ to capability, but⁠​​ if it’s too​ inflated, it only​‌ brings ruin.

If‍​‌ the capital’s high​‍‌ nobility heard this,‌‍⁠ they wouldn’t hesitate​‌‌ to chastise him​⁠​ for such blasphemous​⁠ words.

However,‍‌ Melverot, resting his⁠‍⁠ chin on his⁠‍‌ hand, merely gave​⁠ him a cold⁠​‍ look.

“I​‌⁠ can’t promise you⁠⁠⁠ a title. Beyond​ my will, granting‍ a significant title‍‌​ to a plebeian​‌ from the slums​ would be seen​ as disgraceful by⁠‍ the elders of‌‍⁠ the capital. And​ let’s not even⁠⁠ mention His Majesty,‍​ the Emperor.”

Melverot’s‍⁠ magical power was⁠​ legendary, but not​⁠‌ everything in this‌‍ world could be⁠ achieved by force.​⁠

Especially‌‍ in the world⁠​ of noble culture,‍‍ where justification and​‌ tradition were deeply‍ rooted.

Still,‍​ Melverot didn’t adopt‌‌‌ an entirely negative​⁠‌ stance.

“But‍ I can support​⁠‌ you.”

“…”​

“In‍ political judgment and‍ magical skill, you​​​ far surpass those⁠​​ with fine blood‌​ but nothing else.‌​ Yes. As long⁠​‌ as there’s a justification, it’s not‍​ impossible to secure​ a position. So⁠‌ I promise this.”‍

Melverot⁠ spoke in a resolute tone.

“If‍‌‍ your proposal for‍ a title is‌ taken seriously, I will write a letter of recommendation‌‌ with the utmost⁠ courtesy. A letter‍ written directly by‌ Melverot of the​‍ North would be‌ a powerful weapon.”‍​‌

“…”​

“Do⁠ you want to‍‌​ strike down the‍ arrogant nobles of​⁠ the capital? Or‍ become a figure‍​ who dominates this​‍‍ era?”

“I‍‍ have no such‌‌​ thoughts.”

Those‌ who had long‍​‍ endured poverty often​⁠ harbored resentment toward‍⁠‍ the nobles, even⁠ if they concealed‌‍ it.

It‌⁠⁠ was natural to‍​‌ curse the country‍‌ and the era​ when suffering in​ misery.

But​ Dereck held no‍‌​ such petty thoughts.‍

“I‌​‍ just want to‍⁠ become a higher-level‌⁠ mage. The title⁠‍⁠ is merely a means to that‌‌ end.”

He⁠‍⁠ was a man‍​‍ of notable consistency.‌

Melverot​ had lived like⁠ a monarch for​‌‌ many years. He​​ had his own​‍ way of evaluating‍⁠ talent.

To⁠‍⁠ accomplish great things,​ one needed to‍​ know the present​ reality and the‌‍ times, but overly‌​ enthusiastic types often​​ failed to fulfill​‍​ their duties because​‍ they got too⁠⁠‍ distracted by such‍ matters.

A swordsman must excel⁠‍ with the sword,⁠ a mage must​ elevate their magic,​⁠‍ a chancellor must‍‍ master economics, and⁠⁠‍ a servant must‍⁠ know how to​‍⁠ manage the house.‌

The‌​ situation, the times,‍​ ambition, aspirations, broad​‍ vision, sociability, study‌​ of governance, support—those‌ things often came⁠‌ naturally once the​ core qualities were​‌​ in place.

True‌ talent needs no⁠​ elaborate introduction.

Dereck.​‌‌

He‌‍ was a mage.‍‍​

“I​ see… Now I understand why you​​ came to negotiate.”⁠⁠

“Thank‍⁠ you for considering​ it positively. Then,‌‍ I’ll return to⁠‍ my duties.”

“Is​‌‍ that all you’re​ going to ask?”‍​‍

As​​ Dereck was about‍⁠ to leave after‍​⁠ saying his goodbye,‌​ Melverot called him‌‍ again.

Turning​ silently, Dereck looked‍ at him. Melverot‍⁠ let out another⁠​⁠ chuckle, still resting​ his chin on​​​ his hand.

“You’re​​⁠ not asking the⁠​⁠ most important thing.‍ Aren’t you curious⁠‌ why I have​⁠⁠ monsters in the‍‍ main hall of​ the mansion?”

“I​ don’t meddle in‍ things unrelated to‍ my work. However,‌ if you believe​‌ it would be​‌ useful for me‍‍ to know, I don’t mind hearing​‌‍ it.”

“I⁠⁠ see. That may⁠‌ be your stance,‍‍ but it seems‌ the young lady‍‌⁠ from House Duplain​ thinks otherwise.”

Aiselin⁠​‍ was glancing sideways,‍‌‌ trying to pick​ up the tone‌‌ of the conversation.​‌

In‍ fact, it was​ strange that Dereck‍‌​ showed no curiosity.​​ In a situation‌ like this, anyone​⁠ would want to⁠‌‍ know Melverot’s true⁠‍ intentions.

When⁠ Dereck remained silent‍⁠⁠ for a few⁠⁠ seconds, Melverot let⁠​‍ out a hollow⁠ laugh and said:‍‌

“This‍ may be a belated revelation, but‍​ Siern is not​‌​ my blood daughter.‌‍⁠ She is the‌⁠‍ legacy left by⁠⁠ an old friend⁠‌ of mine.”

Aiselin​‌ was already swallowing⁠‌ hard, shocked, but​ Dereck had partly‌​‍ suspected it.

Just​ from having fought⁠‍ her once, he’d⁠⁠ noticed that her​ way of handling⁠‍‍ magic was completely‍⁠‍ different from Melverot’s.‍

“Though​‍⁠ countless years have⁠‍ passed since that​⁠ blood-soaked war ended,‌ it still feels​‍​ as vivid as⁠‍ if it were​​ yesterday. That damned‍‍ great demon, Noir,‍​​ who killed my​ old friend Kalimford…​ and I fought‍​⁠ the final battle‌​ in the Grand‌ Snowfield of Rosenhaven.”‌​

“…”‍

“The⁠​⁠ insane magic that‌‌ demon wielded was⁠‌⁠ far beyond human​⁠‍ reach. If you​‍ observe the scars⁠‍​ still visible in‌⁠‌ the Rosenhaven snowfield,‍‍ you’ll see that⁠‌ it unleashed such‍ massive magic that​⁠ the maps had​‌ to be redrawn‍​ countless times.”

Aiselin’s‌⁠ expression gradually hardened.​‌⁠ It seemed she⁠⁠ had no idea‌ what Melverot was⁠​ about to say.‍⁠

“Yes…⁠⁠​ the realm forbidden‍‍ to humans… the‌ 7-star level mentioned⁠‍​ in the records‍ of the great‍‍ mage Adelbert… If‍ it truly exists,‍ it must resemble⁠ that.”

Melverot⁠​⁠ slowly stood up.​​

The⁠​ “Dawn War,” recorded⁠⁠ as the most⁠‍ horrific demon war⁠ in the continent’s‍ history.

It​​ was Melverot, the⁠​ historical figure who‌‍ ended it, who‍‌ was now speaking⁠ directly.

“I’ll‌‍‍ tell you a shocking fact. Not‌‌ even the high‍‍ nobles of the⁠⁠ imperial capital, nor⁠‍‌ Emperor Gatrell himself,‌‌​ know this.”

Why⁠‌‌ was he telling⁠‍ them? It was​ to make clear⁠‌ that they were‍ already in the‍ same boat, with‌‌‍ no way off.‌‌​

“Noir…‌⁠ I couldn’t kill‌ him.”

***​

The​ great demon Noir‍ is a monster‌ that parasitizes humans.⁠‌‌

In​​‍ the form of‍​ a fist-sized spirit,⁠ it infiltrates directly‌‌‌ into a person’s⁠‍ soul, awakens demonic​ instincts, and furthermore,​‌‍ grants magical talents​​ far beyond human⁠​ capabilities.

When‍ its core power​ fully blossoms, it‍ begins using magic​​‌ that truly surpasses‍​​ human levels, and​ in the end,⁠ it transforms into‌⁠⁠ a colossal demon⁠ visible even from​​ the horizon.

When​‌ Melverot struck the‌‍ final blow to‍‌ Noir… the monster‌​‍ became a spirit​‍‍ and possessed the​‌⁠ body of Kalimford’s‌ late wife, Feria.⁠

Feria,‍ a renowned priestess,‌⁠ had joined the​‌ subjugation squad to⁠‍⁠ help avenge her‍ husband Kalimford.

***⁠⁠

Tap,‍‍ tap.

Aiselin‌‍ and Dereck, who‌‍ had left the​ office, walked down​⁠​ the corridor.

They​‌ descended the spiral‌ staircase of the‌‌​ tower, crossed the‍⁠​ frozen garden, and‍ returned to the⁠ annex without exchanging​‌ a single word.​

Both​⁠ were ruminating on‍​ Melverot’s words.

“Back‌​​ then, Feria, who‍ was already pregnant,​‍ asked to wait⁠⁠‍ until she gave​​ birth to Kalimford’s‌‍‌ daughter. As a high-ranking priestess, she⁠⁠ could somehow resist‍‌⁠ Noir’s influence.”

“So…⁠‌‍ she gave birth‍‍‌ to Lady Siern?”​‍​

“Yes…‌‌‍ Then she entrusted‍‌​ her to me‍⁠⁠ and left, apologizing.‌ When I later‍ heard about her…​ it was not‌ pleasant news.”

Melverot⁠​​ hadn’t bothered explaining‌‍⁠ Feria’s fate. It⁠⁠ wasn’t hard to‌ imagine what kind⁠⁠‍ of end the‍ mother of Lady‍‍ Siern met. She⁠‍ likely wished to‌‍‌ end it all​⁠‍ herself.

In‍ the end, only⁠⁠‌ Siern remained.

A daughter with no‌⁠ blood ties, no‍​‌ connections. In fact,​⁠‍ for someone of​ Melverot’s level, taking⁠‌ care of a child without kin⁠ posed no burden.⁠⁠‍

He‌‌​ had immense wealth,⁠‍ glory, status, and‍‍ power. Even if⁠‍⁠ he couldn’t give​​‌ her love, he​ could provide an⁠ environment no one⁠​‍ would envy.

However,‍ Siern was not‌⁠⁠ an ordinary girl.​​

Before‌ learning to read,​ she tore apart​​​ a pack of‍​ wolves. By the‍‌​ time she was​‌ old enough to‌⁠ understand, she had​‍ already killed servants,‌ and before her‍‌ coming-of-age ceremony, she‍⁠ had begun handling‍​ three-star magic.

Melverot‍ must have felt⁠‌ it.

The⁠ murderous impulse and‍‌⁠ desire for slaughter⁠ engraved in her‌⁠ blood were not⁠​‌ human emotions.

It​⁠​ was clear she⁠ had inherited them​‍ from the mythical⁠ demon Noir of​‌‍ the “Dawn War,”⁠⁠ who had killed‌⁠⁠ countless humans.

If⁠ he had realized‍​ it, he should‍​ have killed her‌⁠⁠ then and there.‌

He⁠​ should have slain⁠​⁠ that small girl‍​ standing amidst the‌ mangled corpses of⁠⁠‌ wolves in the‌⁠ snowy field.

“Why⁠‍⁠ are you protecting⁠‌ Siern?”

But‌‌ Melverot didn’t. His⁠‌​ choice was completely‍ different.

Instead,​‌‌ he assigned her‍​⁠ various tutors and⁠ tried to integrate⁠​⁠ her into human‍‌ society somehow. He‍‍ is the legendary⁠ hero who saved‍⁠⁠ the North. He⁠ also was the​‌‌ one who witnessed‍⁠ Noir’s great massacre⁠​​ up close.

Why‍‌‍ would someone with‌ such a history‍‍‍ not make the⁠ right decision? Was⁠‍‍ it out of⁠‌ compassion, because she⁠⁠​ was the daughter‌‍⁠ of his old‌⁠‌ friend Kalimford? Was‍‍‍ it in honor‍⁠ of the late​ priestess Feria?

Or⁠​​ did he simply​‍ think it was⁠​ wrong to kill⁠​ an innocent life⁠‍‍ from a humanitarian⁠⁠​ standpoint?

None‍⁠ of those were‌​ true. None came‌ close to the‌‍ correct answer.

“There​⁠⁠ are no six-star‍⁠​ mages who are‌​ sane.”

It​ was Melverot himself‍⁠ who had said⁠⁠ that.

“Wasn’t‍‌ it clearly written‍​⁠ in Adelbert’s memoirs?‍‌ That there is‍⁠ a limit to‍ what a human⁠ can reach.”

“Then,‍‌‌ if someone wants‌⁠‌ to reach the⁠⁠​ realm of seven‍ stars, what’s the​‌‍ first thing they‌​‍ must abandon?”

Mages‌ are those who,‍‍ even if just​ a little, seek⁠‍‌ to reach a higher level.

No‌⁠‍ matter how enormous‍⁠ the wall imposed‌⁠‍ on them, their‌⁠​ symbol is the‌‌ almost deranged curiosity⁠‍‍ that drives them⁠ to climb it.⁠‌

“Humanity.”​

He‍‌‍ was glimpsing a fragment of seven-star‍⁠ magic in Siern.‌‌‌

Whiiing.⁠

Before‍​ entering the annex,⁠ Dereck and Aiselin​ looked up toward​⁠⁠ the central tower⁠ in the distance.‍⁠‍

The​ tower, visible from⁠ anywhere in the​⁠‌ Rochester mansion, stood‍ firm that day​ too, beneath the‍‍‍ blizzard.

Inside,‌‍‌ Siern was surely‍​ watching the blizzard​​ in silence, with‌⁠‌ her elegant hair⁠‌​ falling and wearing⁠​‌ a nightgown.

“Sir‌ Dereck.”

Finally,​‍‌ Aiselin spoke.

Amid‌ the icy cold,⁠​ Aiselin hesitated, thought​ about what to‍​ say, and finally‍ spoke with difficulty.⁠

“I…⁠‌‍ my thoughts are⁠ a mess.”

“Don’t⁠‌​ dwell on it.​ The tasks we‌⁠ have haven’t changed.⁠‍​ However…”

Dereck‌‌ frowned as he‍ looked toward the‌​‌ tower.

“That⁠‍​ war hero… it‍ seems he’s still​‌ hiding something.”

“What?”⁠⁠

Aiselin⁠⁠‍ asked with a bewildered expression.

“After​​ telling us all⁠‌ that… you still⁠​‌ think he’s hiding‍ something?”

“He’s⁠⁠‌ lived as a ruler of that⁠‌ level for countless⁠⁠ years. We can’t‍ underestimate him.”

Dereck‍ never let his​‍⁠ guard down.

Melverot‌ seemed to have​‌ laid everything bare,‍⁠ but something was​ still hidden. His​ intuition told him‌‌‌ that clearly.

“It’s⁠ cold. Let’s go​ inside.”

Whatever‌⁠ the situation, the​‌⁠ promised reward was​⁠ still fair, and⁠‍‍ their assigned tasks⁠⁠​ hadn’t changed.

Dereck‌‌ was a magic‍‌​ tutor. A teacher’s​ job is to⁠ teach their students.⁠

And‍ that essence had​⁠⁠ not changed in‍​‍ the slightest.

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