Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 143

"You've worked hard, Countess."

- Clank, clatter.

Countess Rodea, having removed the oversized silver armor that dwarfed her frame, was drenched in sweat.

Though long past her physical prime with age showing on her face, she paid it no mind.

This battle-born noblewoman showed barely any fatigue despite having risked her life in that horrific battlefield.

After freshening up with her maids'assistance, she sank into a plush chair with a troubled expression.

'There's likely nothing more I can do regarding Beltus matters now. I can only hope that young lady and the eldest son handle things well.'

The Duke of Beltus's escape was concerning, but her immediate priority was reporting everything to Emperor Gertrel.

The events at Beltus Manor and the emergence of a new 4-Star mage.

Baron Derek Raidof Ravenclaw.

Recalling the bloodied man collapsed at the scene, Countess Rodea flexed her blistered hands several times.

'I still want that man under my command.'

But.

After repeated consideration, Derek wasn't someone who'd easily pledge loyalty to others.

Only someone like Melberot, the Dominator of the North, could take him under their wing.

Yet considering how he'd risked his life to subdue necromancers and reached 4-Star status so young... she was reluctant to hand him over.

Most importantly, she'd learned of his existence before other high nobles.

Imperial Head Magic Advisor Kochella had likely caught wind by now, and Emperor Gertrel seemed informed even without her report.

Already, whispers about Baron Derek were circulating. By the time her detailed report reached them, his name would be renowned among high nobility.

To secure talent, one must act while their value is low.

From that perspective, having connected with Derek earlier than others was a significant advantage.

Yet he wasn't someone easily swayed.

If simple kindness could win him over, there'd be no dilemma.

'...But it's not entirely hopeless.'

Her early connection gave her an edge over others.

Namely, certain insights into Baron Ravenclaw's personal life.

Among the many revelations about Derek during the Beltus campaign, what struck Rodea most was the existence of his wife, Pellin.

This commoner-turned-mercenary Baroness... surprisingly didn't seem particularly close to Derek.

Though their long battlefield camaraderie was evident, it was distinctly different from romantic affection.

As a noble deeply versed in aristocratic culture, Rodea immediately realized:

Baroness Pellin was merely a facade for political stability and title acquisition... Derek had no genuine romantic attachment.

Lightning seemed to strike Rodea's mind.

A man publicly married yet privately unattached. And among high nobility, only she knew this truth.

In short: if a Renuel daughter formed a bond with him, the family could secure his allegiance.

By heaven's grace, she happened to have a presentable daughter.

Lady Trisha Termina Renuel was somewhat vain and ill-tempered, but with some coercion to keep her mouth shut, her looks were passable.

While she might pale compared to Derek's dazzling noble disciples, romantic pursuits often succeeded through persistence.

'That headache-inducing Trisha might finally prove useful to the family.'

Though heaven denied her dignity and temperament, Rodea's intimidation could compensate.

Despite her haughty demeanor in Evelstain's high society, Trisha trembled like a frightened rabbit at home under Rodea's glare—a testament to her mother's iron-fisted upbringing.

With a rare satisfied smile, Rodea summoned Trisha.

"I hear he's been staying at Duplein Manor lately. Apparently looking after affairs for Lady Diela or his business partner Lady Aiselin."

"I... see..."

In the snow-covered Renuel residence, tea was served though neither sweets-loving Rodea nor nervous Trisha reached for it.

Countess Rodea studied her daughter before clasping her hands solemnly.

"Given his connections to Rosea Salon through Evelstain's high society... perhaps you should deepen your involvement with Baron Derek."

"M-mother, if you insist... b-but... how exactly should I...?"

"Isn't it obvious? Several salon members are from Duplein. Especially with their recent collaborations..."

"Those people being...?"

Rodea gave a dismissive look at the obvious question.

"Well, the eldest daughter Lady Aiselin for one..."

"..."

Trisha had once poured tea over Aiselin's head while laughing arrogantly. Her face paled.

"If that's difficult... Duplein's youngest, Lady Diela, is also a salon member..."

Trisha had also been slapped by Diela.

Unaware of these petty squabbles, Rodea didn't realize Trisha's relations with the Duplein ladies were beyond repair.

Why had this happened?

Because it seemed possible at the time.

Duplein appeared destined to collapse, while Renuel's rising fortunes seemed eternal...

Though more arrogance than shortsightedness, regret now was pointless.

Trisha hadn't been entirely wrong.

She simply hadn't accounted for Derek becoming a major political variable.

The only difference between her and the Duplein ladies was connection to Derek... yet such nuances often decided noble social battles.

An infuriating reality.

"Ah, hello Lady Diela."

Thus, at the next Rosea Salon gathering, Trisha approached Diela first.

The increasingly prominent Lady Trisha initiating conversation with her rival Diela was unprecedented—like voluntarily entering a lion's den.

Diela, known to slap without hesitation, radiated such intensity that others hesitated to approach.

Her aura made people question whether she was truly a fading noble.

"..."

Diela, skimming a philosophy book, studied Trisha suspiciously.

Their eye contact alone made Trisha flinch as if facing a roaring lion.

"Get lost."

Diela returned to her book.

A clear challenge.

Though veins bulged at her temples, Trisha gritted her teeth.

Diela had already discerned Trisha's motive—like others, she sought connection to Baron Ravenclaw.

This trend infuriated Diela.

Being treated as some gatekeeper to Derek...!

The notion that one needed approval from his four main disciples to approach him...!

Yet Derek paid her no special attention either...

Though staying at Duplein Manor, he was preoccupied with Aiselin's new ventures, leaving Diela feeling neglected.

Frustrated on all fronts, Diela had no patience for her rival's advances.

Trisha sweated profusely.

How could she breach this fortress to reach Baron Ravenclaw?

Direct approach seemed better, but without connections, she'd likely be rejected again.

Worse, Countess Rodea pressured her relentlessly to engage with Duplein.

Trisha was cornered.

"I mean... with Duplein's recent endeavors... if our house could assist..."

"We don't need it. Get lost."

- Screech

Diela stood, glaring.

Her lion-like presence made observers wonder who could possibly tame her.

Striding down the hallway under everyone's gaze, she radiated intensity.

'This emotional rollercoaster wounds my pride?!'

Diela was proud.

Returning to Duplein Manor, she fumed.

Her affection for Derek was longstanding, but she knew acting needy was beneath her dignity.

As a noble, she resolved to maintain grace—

But teenage hearts rarely obey reason.

Her frustration grew unbearable.

Diela was nobility—she shouldn't need to chase after some frontier baron, however rising his status.

Evelstain's high society called her the Tyrant.

That this domineering figure now pined for a baron was laughable.

Thus, lips pursed, she resolved to show Derek what he was missing.

- Creak

As she stormed off, Derek emerged from a meeting room with documents.

Though still bearing wounds, he looked much recovered.

"Ah, Lady Diela."

"...Derek!"

Though momentarily brightening, her pout returned.

"You seem busy."

"Not at all. Just many ongoing projects... How fortunate we met."

"Huh?"

"We haven't spoken much lately. And regarding Ravenclaw Training Institute's branch... I'd like your assistance."

"M-me?"

"Yes. Is that improper?"

"Well... of course..."

Evelstain's tyrant, the lioness Diela, typically snarled at everyone.

Yet despite her foul mood—

"Well... of course... it's completely okay...!!"

"Is that so?"

"..."

Diela sighed, rubbing her forehead. Her mouth had moved faster than her pride.

Being harsh with Derek proved impossible.

'She's been under strain since her family's decline.'

Watching Diela chide herself, Derek offered sympathetic eyes—which only deepened her mortification.

"This project aims to restore Duplein. Having you spearhead it would be ideal."

Over tea—their first private meeting in ages—Diela's heart fluttered despite herself.

Her golden hair adorned with indigo ribbons and frilly dress contrasted with her puzzled expression.

"Restore Duplein?"

"Yes. Having overcome crises, it's time to rebound."

Aiselin worked tirelessly to rebuild their finances, while Diela endured social ostracization.

Derek planned to make Duplein the southwestern continent's new social hub.

Personally, he wanted to prevent Ravenclaw Territory from becoming overcrowded.

Aiselin's relentless ambition threatened to transform his estate into high society's epicenter...

She was an unstoppable runaway train.

Someone needed to maintain balance...