Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 109

"These are the three necromantic spellbooks recovered from House Belmierd. I heard Rodentz Island's sacrificial mages treated them like sacred texts."

"Well done, Rubric."

In the central wing of Gremfort Palace where Emperor Gertrel resided, three necromantic tomes lay upon the personal research desk of the Head Magic Advisor.

"Indeed, failing to properly incinerate these with magic would have caused major repercussions."

The position of Imperial Head Magic Advisor—the highest academic authority among the royal mages—had been occupied since before Gertrel's coronation by Kochella Dainalt Elvester, a 6-Star Transformation Mage.

This elderly sorceress, said to have mastered the pinnacle of transformation magic, possessed deep expertise beyond her specialty. Thus, she examined dangerous magical artifacts before anyone else.

Her massive research chamber—the largest in Gremfort Palace—was lined with magical weapons. Each piece could easily purchase multiple mansions, with some items beyond what frontier nobles could afford even by liquidating their entire estates.

Transformation mages excel at crafting magical equipment. Those personally forged by 6-Star Transformation Mage Kochella commanded astronomical prices.

In a world where magic equaled power, she stood atop the magical hierarchy.

The elderly sorceress flipped through the so-called"Rodentz Island Necromantic Texts"in her study's corner.

Though the content was formulaic, the lingering magical aura was undeniably extraordinary.

This wasn't her first encounter with necromantic research texts circulating the continent, but Rodentz Island's materials differed fundamentally in quality from typical amateur works.

The author's name was listed as"Sinia"—clearly a pseudonym.

This figure whom Kochella desperately sought had eluded capture for years. Not even 6-Star Detection Mage Drest could completely evade Kochella's pursuit.

Sinia's ability to hide bordered on the supernatural—one might question their very existence.

Still, years of tracking Sinia's research texts revealed her intentions.

Influencing necromancers across Rodentz Island and beyond, she researched corpse resurrection.

'Creating mere moving corpses isn't difficult with current necromancy. But someone of her caliber wouldn't settle for that.'

Sinia sought to perfectly resurrect corpses with their original abilities intact.

While possible to some extent now, higher-level corpses required more magical energy than typical necromancers could provide.

This"Sinia"was compiling research to revive any corpse at full strength—a forbidden art.

But who did she intend to resurrect?

Her texts brimmed with musings about traces of the Great Demon Noir who once ravaged the north.

The conclusion became obvious.

'There was one archmage who died defeating the Northern Great Demon Noir.'

Kalimford—the 6-Star Combat Mage who could call down meteors to reshape geography.

Among the notoriously eccentric 6-Star mages, he was considered relatively benevolent and scholarly. Now resting peacefully in history's annals.

'Does she plan to resurrect Kalimford?'

A 6-Star necromancer's existence alone heralded catastrophe. Resurrecting a 6-Star combat mage as a puppet would bring unimaginable horrors.

Kochella held her breath in contemplation.

People still joked that no 6-Star mage was truly sane.

Regrettably, Kochella agreed.

In Gremfort Palace's central research chamber, candlelight flickered across the elderly sorceress absorbed in her reading.

Meanwhile, snow fell across Duke Rochest's northern territory.

In his office, 6-Star Combat Mage Melberot sat with crossed legs, chin resting on hand, gazing at the wintry landscape.

Warm winds swept the eastern plains.

A tattered robe fluttered as an old man climbed a quiet hill, pausing to survey the open vista—6-Star Detection Mage Drest.

And in the southeastern Baron Tigris territory, where barley fields and mountain ridges sprawled beneath a brilliant sky...

A girl sat atop a large boulder, holding up a hand to block the sun's glare. A basket of mountain flowers gathered at dawn hung from one arm.

Squinting against the light, she finally blinked from the brightness.

"Leonard must've been captured by now. Serves him right."

Murmuring quietly, she smoothed her hair.

Her silver locks cascading down her back curled at the ends, seemingly embracing her waist. Though fundamentally silver-gray, sunlight revealed mysterious purplish-blue hues in her tresses. Her similarly iridescent eyes shifted between blue and violet.

-"Phee! That's enough flowers—come down! Father says he has important matters to discuss!"

Baroness Tigris's voice carried up from below. Like any practical frontier noblewoman, her rolled-up sleeves exuded capability.

The summoned girl answered cheerfully with an angelic smile, nimbly descending the slope.

The azaleas she'd picked filled the air with fragrance.

Their scent lingered wherever she passed.

To my respected mentor Katia,

Autumn is now in full swing. Though I resolved to update you seasonally, constant busyness makes even this feel frequent.

Being occupied is fortunate, so I should rejoice. Yet not everything proceeds smoothly.

Rather than begin gloomily, let me share good news first.

The Ravenclaw Training Institute's construction is complete, and we'll soon welcome noble ladies in earnest. The scale exceeded expectations—we'll be quite busy.

We've hired assistant instructors and renowned magic tutors at considerable expense... but many come specifically for my name, so I can't remain uninvolved.

Though never intending to teach, I've somehow amassed numerous students—quite diverging from my planned path.

I simply wanted to reach greater magical heights. Yet teaching others teaches myself, so it aids my growth.

Before I knew it, Lady Aiselin expanded operations—we now have six administrative staff and nine instructors.

She hired external teachers for tea ceremony, ancient languages, and string instruments—subjects she finds challenging to teach. For magic, we recruited commoner-born instructors competent in fundamentals.

This scale feels burdensome, but the income is satisfying. High nobility certainly opens their purses easily.

After the grand opening ceremony in four days, we'll be quite crowded. This may be my final respite.

Now for less pleasant matters.

Lady Elente has been acting awkwardly around me lately.

I considered testing if she harbors feelings, but feared appearing presumptuous.

As Belmierd's heiress who could have any elite suitor, why would she care for a nominal baron? I reflected on possible offenses during Belmierd Manor's incident.

In the crisis, I may have neglected proper decorum toward their acting head. Henceforth, I'll strictly maintain hierarchical propriety.

Though mentor and student, secular authority can't be ignored... I must avoid any false familiarity and maintain formal relations.

Noble customs remain perplexing.

I must remain vigilant and self-reflective.

Lastly, my magical progress concerns me most.

I've nearly mastered 3-Star magic, but lack any insight into the 4-Star realm.

Though you'd say achieving 3-Star at my age is extraordinary, my ambition leaves me restless.

If you know any 4-Star mentors, might you provide an introduction?

The high-level mages I know aren't teaching material. Any connections would be appreciated.

This grew lengthy.

Though not normally talkative, my quill flows freely when writing to you.

I trust Count Elvester's household is well?

I eagerly await our next meeting.

Sincerely,
Derek Raidof Ravenclaw
Baron of Ravenclaw

"......"

Derek set down his quill, pondering if he'd missed anything.

- Creak

"Oh, Derek. Are you busy?"

"Not at all. Just finishing a personal letter."

"A personal letter? I've never seen you write so intently."

As Derek nodded in greeting, Aiselin waved cheerfully.

Though considering herself a"fallen noblewoman,"Aiselin had essentially taken up residence at Ravenclaw Barony.

"I was writing to my mentor in the eastern continent. My letters to Katia always grow longer than intended."

"I see. She must be very precious to you."

"Naturally. She helped me greatly during difficult times."

Derek folded the completed letter.

Since hastily returning from Belmierd Manor, urgent matters had piled up.

Aiselin's frantic retrieval made sense—though her reasons extended beyond estate affairs, which mattered little to Derek.

"The finalized guest list for the opening ceremony arrived. Since you've been too busy to review it, I organized everything for you."

"Couldn't administrators or retainers handle this?"

"I'll be teaching these ladies! I need to memorize their names! *ahem*!"

Rolling up her sleeves energetically, Aiselin's enthusiasm was contagious.

Watching her, Derek felt compelled to match her vigor.

Scanning the list, he read aloud:

"Viscount Lointele, Viscount Sidmer, Count Plüder, Baron Caldeorn, Baron Rodtec, Viscount Bleton..."

"...Quite the formidable list, no? But they're all kind souls..."

"You know them?"

"I've met half through social circles, and know of the rest. Though I can't claim familiarity with every minor frontier house..."

Derek needed to memorize these names regardless.

Then one familiar house name caught his eye.

"......!"

His eyes widened momentarily before he composed himself.

He hadn't exclaimed or panicked visibly. But for the normally unflappable Derek—who remained calm amidst Duplein Manor's collapse—this reaction was extraordinary.

"Derek?"

Aiselin called hesitantly, receiving no reply.

Leaning back, Derek rested his chin on hand, lost in thought.

What could possibly unsettle this famously composed man?

Aiselin could only wait in stunned silence.

Derek rechecked the list, ensuring he hadn't misread.

-'House Tigris'

The name was unmistakable.

House Tigris was a typical backwater barony—utterly insignificant.

Though territorially large, most lands were mortgaged, with the remainder being grain fields. Without major towns, their"lord"resembled a village chief.

Family head Leopold Oswin Tigris was merely a lucky veteran—a former quartermaster turned noble.

An utterly unremarkable lower-nobility household. Why the strong reaction?

But the family head wasn't the concern.

-'Lady Phee Rafaela Tigris'

Derek wiped his mouth, sinking into deep contemplation.