Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 134

"The western demon tribes have been mostly dealt with. The mercenaries have scattered to secure key positions, and most areas have been reclaimed. Lady Denise doesn't appear seriously injured either—that's fortunate."

"O-Orel...!"

"Be careful, Lady Denise. The scouts sent to survey the mansion have already reported back. The one who subdued Lord Rovenalt guarding the eastern magic spire was also that man. Given the chaos centered around Beltus Territory, he's likely involved in some capacity."

Captain Orel was sharp.

Even amidst this overwhelming chaos, he instinctively sensed Derek was no ally.

He shook off his sword and glared straight at Derek.

Orel was an elderly man, but far from being a has-been. His right arm bulged with rugged muscle, and his thigh belt jingled with various adventuring tools.

Despite spending years stationed in noble estates performing guard duties, his combat instincts remained honed through self-training.

As leader of the largest mercenary group in the southwestern continent, his seasoned expertise couldn't be dismissed, regardless of age.

"I heard you belonged to that bastard Jayden's Velderun Mercenary Group. Correct?"

He seemed acquainted with Jayden, the mercenary captain Derek trusted.

When Derek nodded while maintaining his guard, Orel broke into a broad grin.

"Right. After all the hardships Jayden endured in the Dawn War, I wondered what he'd been up to in retirement... So he's been collecting strays like you?"

"More like passing time with odd jobs. He should be bringing his men near Beltus Territory now... It'll be good to catch up with Uncle Jayden after so long."

"Pity we're not senile enough to reminisce about old times in this situation."

Orel stroked his beard while studying Derek.

Having fought through demon tribes to infiltrate the spire, subdue Rovenalt, and disable the defensive magic, Derek showed no signs of exhaustion—clearly a veteran of countless battles.

"Apologies, but I'm not gentlemanly enough to settle this one-on-one. Best drop any foolish notions."

When Orel raised his arm to signal, about a dozen elite guards surrounding Denise fanned out into formation.

Each was a seasoned veteran—even Derek's genius couldn't overcome such numbers.

"I'll subdue you quickly and handle the main hall's situation—"

"T-the main hall comes first! Orel!"

Denise suddenly darted forward, spreading her arms to block Orel's path.

Orel flinched, eyeing her with bewilderment.

"Lady Denise?"

Orel had guarded Beltus Territory since Denise's toddling days. Knowing her better than most, her sudden outburst left him stunned.

Denise herself panted with a dazed expression, as if confused by her own actions.

To her, Orel had always been more fatherly than the Duke himself—a mercenary who fulfilled his contracts with absolute dedication.

No wonder mercenaries across Evelstain saw him as a role model.

"L-look at the main hall's state! Orel! Prioritize...! Capturing some frontier baron matters less than checking on Father...!"

- BOOM! CRASH! WHOOSH!

As Denise spoke, explosions rocked the main hall.

The roars of demons summoned by the Duke, combat sounds from Rodea's squad battling the Arch Lich, and fleeing servants'screams painted a dire picture—the mansion's foundations were crumbling.

"See that wreckage... Father likely won't survive this...!"

Denise's assessment was sound.

Her composure in prioritizing tasks during crisis was commendable.

Yet Orel sensed something off about her desperation.

"Are you defending that man now?"

"Guh..."

"..."

Denise's subsequent expression made Orel doubt his eyes.

Everyone in Beltus Mansion knew Denise—the epitome of pragmatic nobility who prioritized efficiency over emotion.

Her shielding Ravenclaw's Baron was... uncharacteristic.

"Lady Denise. This is no time for personal feelings to cloud judgment."

"I-It's not like that..."

"My decades of military service tell me that man's no bystander in this chaos."

He needed Derek captured for interrogation.

Denise had only one recourse left—invoking authority.

"You must listen to me, Orel."

"..."

Orel studied Denise's determined gaze with conflicted eyes.

A battle-hardened veteran wouldn't cower before a noble girl barely out of childhood.

But having witnessed her growth, Orel recognized the weight behind her actions.

The girl who once floated through life as the Duke's chess piece now stood firm.

"If something happens to Father... who'll steer Beltus through this turmoil?"

Officially, Rovenalt as heir.

But realistically? Everyone would point to Denise.

Her openly defending Ravenclaw's Baron complicated things for Orel, whose mercenaries relied on Beltus contracts.

'Didn't expect this from you.'

Orel chuckled wryly—more amused than troubled.

Seeing normally indifferent Denise passionately defend someone was unprecedented.

His sidelong glance at Derek showed the baron calmly assessing the situation, confident against the veteran mercenaries.

"Why defend him?"

"He came to help Beltus Mansion against necromancy."

"A convenient pretext."

Orel's experience saw through such claims.

"I see two likely reasons."

"..."

"First—you might be involved in this chaos."

Denise gulped.

Orel implied she orchestrated this to overthrow the Duke—a plausible theory given her puppet existence.

"...That's not it."

"I thought not. You've never craved power. Which leaves the second theory."

"...Which is?"

"You've fallen head over heels for Baron Ravenclaw. Emotions are terrifying."

"This is no time for jokes, Orel."

"No joke."

"..."

Silence.

"..."

"......"

Decades of familiarity couldn't bridge this awkward pause.

Orel was dead serious.

Denise's trembling hands and flushed face betrayed her.

The veteran's insight bordered on mind-reading.

"Orel, if you've time for jokes—"

"Lady Denise. I've watched you grow, but emotional turbulence shouldn't override reason. Youthful passions have their time and place—"

"I said no...! Argh!"

"..."

Denise's uncharacteristic outburst left her tomato-faced and panting.

"L-let's go with the first theory."

"......"

"A power-hungry revolutionary sounds more dignified than some lovestruck fool. Many suffered under Father's tyranny anyway. Better a principled usurper than a infatuated simpleton."

"Lady Denise... Arbitrary justifications don't work—"

"Orel. L-listen. I have my pride too."

Her answer was clear despite the rambling.

Approaching Orel with heated cheeks, Denise babbled incoherently.

"Fine. I'll admit it. There might've been... a tiny emotional factor. But! Not to the extent you're imagining!"

"I never suggested—"

"I-I'm rational, Orel."

"..."

Orel sighed, massaging his forehead.

This flustered Denise was unprecedented.

If Beltus's future leader favored Derek, opposing him became complicated for Orel's mercenaries.

Derek, meanwhile, looked perplexed by the standoff.

Orel's gaze turned contemplative.

Baron Derek Raidof Ravenclaw.

Rumors painted him as Duplein's Aiselin and Diela's close associate, with ties to Belmierd—a man connected to all three great houses.

'Men loved by powerhouses never have it easy...'

Orel understood.

Being coveted by three noble houses would tear anyone apart.

Yet such men were valuable allies.

For now, stabilizing the mansion took priority.

Orel signaled his men to stand down.

"...?"

Derek looked most bewildered.

Sheathing his sword, Orel approached and extended a wrinkled hand.

"Given Lady Denise's stance, opposing you seems unwise."

"...Suddenly?"

"No harm in cooperation. You claimed to help resolve this necromantic crisis. My men are stretched thin fighting demons."

As Orel relaxed, Derek cautiously lowered his guard.

The mercenaries followed suit, sheathing weapons like obedient pack animals.

When Derek moved to shake hands—

- CRASH! BOOM! SCREECH!

Bat demons swarmed the skies again.

Restless spirits wailed as they consumed the mansion, the Arch Lich's magic ensuring its transformation into a dungeon.

"......"

The would-be handshake paused.

First, they had a demon to slay.