Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 130

"Hey, Rovenalt. There's a man named Derek who's taking charge of the Rodelen region. Help him get that baron title."

Rovenalt, the eldest son of House Beltus, was longtime friends with Ryner who had fled the Belmierd family.

Though Ryner seemed like a wastrel who idled his days away in gambling dens, he possessed sharp insight when it mattered—a man who could see the bigger picture.

No one knew why such a man had abandoned the Belmierd name to live like a vagabond, but Rovenalt at least trusted Ryner's judgment.

Timid and lacking ambition, Rovenalt was hardly recognized as Beltus's proper heir. Overshadowed by his exceptionally capable younger sister Denise, he constantly deferred to retainers'opinions—hardly leadership material.

Yet whenever Ryner brought good liquor for a drink, he'd clap Rovenalt's shoulder and say:

No one's born perfect.

"If my youngest brother Leonard starts scheming, Derek's the only outsider who can help Elente. So give him a little push if you can."

"I can voice support... but it's rare for you to champion someone this fiercely."

"Belmierd affairs aside... that man will influence House Beltus one way or another. Not necessarily a bad thing."

Whatever Ryner's intentions, he clearly held Derek in high regard. With a carefree grin, he slung an arm around Rovenalt's shoulder, reeking of alcohol:

"House Beltus needs restructuring."

"W-what nonsense! You can't just—"

"That commoner-turned-magic tutor will keep climbing. He'll inevitably clash with your father."

The Duke of Beltus crushed anyone for power—even kin were disposable tools. How did Ryner perceive such a ruler? Rovenalt had never considered it.

Though seemingly lost to drink and dice, Ryner seemed to foresee the southwestern nobility's future. Rovenalt knew his friend's uncanny intuition—the very reason he stayed afloat despite his lifestyle.

Ryner possessed an innate gift for measuring people's worth.

He was orchestrating something grand—a design invisible to Rovenalt, who saw the continent's power dynamics as an immense canvas.

"Give him a nudge, and he'll reshape Beltus's foundations. Seize the opportunity when it comes, Rovenalt."

"Ryner... I'm Beltus's man. I can't ignore slander against my house."

"My bad, my bad. Just think about it."

Ryner understood.

Though Beltus's heir, Rovenalt lacked vision—content to mechanically obey his father's orders. Perhaps such a life suited him.

Yet sometimes, opportunities arise to shatter one's cradle.

Moments when faced with insurmountable walls, when entire worldviews must be overturned.

To Ryner, Derek was the perfect catalyst for such upheaval.

"You and Denise live stifled under Beltus's shadow. You think that'll last forever?"

"..."

"Maybe you consider loyalty to Beltus virtuous... but think again."

The Beltus heir and Belmierd heir—two men of utterly different values sharing drinks.

"You're Beltus's future. Consider what that truly means."

- FWOOOOOSH!

- KWA-GA-GA-GA-GAK!

At the Beltus Ducal Manor's heart stood a towering magical spire—symbol of the family's arcane achievements, where their mages researched and trained.

Its summit housed an emergency defensive array—a siege weapon requiring six months of work by half a dozen 4th-Class mages under the Duke's supervision.

Once activated, it could isolate manor sections and bombard intruders with magical artillery—a war-grade construct never before deployed since the manor's completion.

Now the array hummed to life, its energy expanding to blanket the sky.

Only the Duke, select family members, and two trusted retainers could control it—with Rovenalt holding ultimate authority over the spire.

"Secretary! Magistrate! Alert the main hall about the array's activation!"

"Yes, Your Highness!"

Clutching activation crystals, Rovenalt descended the spiral staircase from the summit. Despite his timid nature, he knew his duties well.

The array—built over years by countless mages—transcended individual capability, bordering on siege weaponry. Its astronomical activation cost was irrelevant now.

'Once activated... we can handle anything!'

Not even a 5th-Class mage could breach it through brute force—only a 6th-Class might break it given time.

Unbeknownst to Rovenalt, the 6th-Class necromancer Phee was already present—though her death magic lacked the raw power to overwhelm the array.

Once operational, Orel's mercenaries could systematically eliminate threats in isolated sectors.

Yet Rovenalt swallowed nervously.

'Whoever orchestrated this attack must know about the spire's defenses.'

The monsters flooding the manor suggested meticulous planning. Any competent strategist would prioritize seizing the spire before the array fully deployed.

'Don't falter... You can do this...'

At the spire's mid-level, Rovenalt barked orders:

"Full alert! Eliminate monsters near the spire! Maintain strict vigilance!"

"Yes, Your Highness!"

The retainers, though not particularly loyal to Rovenalt, obeyed in this crisis.

From their elevated vantage, they watched Orel's mercenaries advance toward the main hall—now partially collapsed. The Duke was likely battling something formidable.

'I should check the main hall... but I must stay at my post!'

Victory required activating the array and isolating invaders—a strategy hinging on Rovenalt's control.

'What's that...?'

Beyond the manor's massive outer walls—larger than most noble castles—unfamiliar cavalry moved through the forest.

From the southeastern gate came Belmierd troops under Elente's command, their banner unmistakable.

To the northeast, Derek's Velderun Mercenaries led by one-armed veteran Jayden.

Countess Rodea's detachment was already storming the gardens, ignoring the spire's growing energy as they charged the main hall.

'Impossible... Belmierd drawing blades against Beltus? And Renuel too? Who could mobilize such forces?!'

Belmierd, usually lion-like in its stillness, wouldn't act without immense trust in the instigator.

'The array must complete before they reach the main hall! Veteran Orel can't hold them all!'

"Array progress?"

"70% complete! Once the spire's mana purification finishes, we can isolate sectors!"

"Finish before Countess Rodea reaches the main hall!"

"It'll hold! Even if they reach the hall, the array will counterattack!"

A 5th-Class defensive array wasn't to be underestimated—once active, it could trap Rodea's forces.

Yet unease prickled Rovenalt's mind.

Countess Rodea—a seasoned commander—charged recklessly despite the spire's obvious threat. As if certain the main hall would fall.

Her disregard for securing the spire first...

Only one explanation fit.

"A decoy force...! They've sent a decoy!"

"W-what?!"

"Listen well! Forget the monsters—secure the spire's perimeter!"

"But the monsters are breaching the spire!"

"That's their plan! They're creating chaos to seize key facilities! Ignore the—"

- KWAANG! KWA-GA-GAK!

The wall to the corridor exploded—a minimum 3rd-Class spell.

- KWA-GOOM! KWA-GAK!

- WHOOSH!

As smoke poured through the breach, the retainers and mages braced for combat.

Rovenalt gripped his cloak, swallowing hard.

Whoever emerged from that dust would face no quarter.

- Thump, thump

'Damn it...! Damn it!'

His heart pounded violently, hands trembling as death loomed.

The four mages with him were all 2nd-Class or higher—no pushovers.

Yet as the dust settled...

"...What?"

- CRASH!

The wall breach was a feint.

A man smashed through the main door, its weight crushing one retainer.

"GAAAH!"

- CRUNCH! BAM!

A 1st-Class combat spell—Fire Arrow—pierced the pinned retainer, leaving him unconscious.

"Y-you...!"

As Rovenalt gathered mana, the white-haired mercenary in noble attire—Baron Derek Raidof Ravenclaw—was already casting another spell.

- FWOOOSH!

1st-Class Transformation Magic:"Light Creation"

The blinding flash forced shut all eyes.

"GRAAAH!"

In that split-second, Derek vaulted a desk and tackled another retainer—dagger plunging into his thigh before hurling him aside. Fluid as water.

Two retainers down.

"Intruder! Intruder!"

- THWACK!

"GACK!"

A third retainer's shout died as Derek's boot crushed his throat. A spinning kick followed—but the last retainer, with superhuman will, fired a Mana Arrow.

- ZAP!

Though grazing Derek's shoulder, the pain should've been unbearable—yet he barely flinched.

A veteran mercenary's tolerance for pain decided battles.

"Huff...!"

"Stop, bastard!"

As Derek seized the choking retainer, the last drew his sword—only to freeze when Derek used his comrade as a shield.

"Guh...!"

A moment's hesitation was all Derek needed. Disarming the man with a kick, he drove a fist into his solar plexus.

"Cough... hack..."

Pinning the gasping retainer, Derek ensured his unconsciousness.

Seconds had passed.

Four retainers—neutralized.

Only Rovenalt remained.

'Gasp...!'

Terror flooded Rovenalt as Derek's gaze locked onto him—eyes utterly different from when he'd gently conversed with Aiselin.

-'If you ever face Baron Ravenclaw, tread carefully.'

Ryner's laughing warning echoed.

'Gasp... gasp...'

As a child, Rovenalt had encountered a wild wolf in the forest—that same primal fear gripped him now.

Before this predator, who was hunter and who was prey?