Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 147

"At any rate, I have a feeling we'll meet Baron Ravenclaw again at higher circles in the future."

Kochella viewed Ravenclaw Barony's expansion efforts more favorably than expected. As she said, not all nobles were like Duke Beltus.

After concluding their conversation in the garden with Derek seeing her off alongside servants, Kochella flashed a meaningful smile.

"I'll report to His Majesty Gertrel that Baron Ravenclaw's academy establishment plans seem sound and will benefit imperial unity. Diversifying the empire's magical education system is positive—I see no reason to oppose it. However..."

"...?"

"Indeed. It would be best to limit professional magical education to titled nobility."

The aristocracy's monopolistic attitude toward magic showed no signs of changing with the times.

In an era where good bloodlines were considered indispensable for becoming great mages, teaching magic to commoners with no foundation was seen as unlikely to yield significant results.

Yet Kochella, as the imperial magic advisor representing noble magical circles, showed impatience. Regardless of circumstances, magic had to remain the aristocracy's exclusive privilege.

"Understood."

As Derek nodded, Kochella smiled approvingly... then briefly glanced at Ravenclaw Manor's rooftop.

"Many watching eyes here."

"..."

"Though we only discussed official matters today, should we meet again in the imperial capital, I'd love to have deeper discussions about various magical topics. After all, Baron Ravenclaw seems just as obsessively devoted to magic itself as I am."

With narrowed eyes, she added meaningfully:

"We'll surely find much common ground. Especially regarding magic."

With those final words, Kochella trudged back toward the main gate just as she had arrived.

Each of her fluttering steps seemed infused with peculiar magical energy. Whether she truly intended to walk all the way back to Gremfort Palace remained unclear—she stubbornly refused servants'offers to summon a carriage.

'See you in the imperial heartland.'

The implications behind those words were open to interpretation.

'Hard to tell if she'll be friend or foe next time we meet.'

Kochella's robe fluttered in the wind as she walked across the open plains, resembling a wandering nomad crossing the world.

"Still sharp as ever. Centuries haven't dulled her instincts."

On Ravenclaw Manor's rooftop.

Basking in sunlight for photosynthesis, Phee chuckled while watching Kochella disappear into the distance.

"If she's still coveting my necromancy after all this time, I'll grudgingly respect that persistence. Truly chilling."

Having lived through hundreds of seasonal cycles, Phee felt winter still had some time before spring's arrival.

Though Kochella was an ominous figure, her advice contained considerable value.

To expand his territory's influence, develop the academy properly, and ultimately reach higher magical attainments, Derek had much to accomplish.

'Taking a fifth direct disciple isn't a bad idea, but several concerns remain.'

Derek stood deep in thought while channeling magical energy in the training grounds behind the manor.

Servants assisting his magical practice had to keep their distance to avoid being caught in the energy surges.

This isolation made the spacious area perfect for organizing his thoughts.

'Casually accepting disciples just to boost family prestige would disrespect both the art and the students.'

Derek placed special significance on master-disciple relationships.

Having received immense kindness from his own teachers during his upbringing, he naturally went above and beyond for those he personally taught. To him, this was simply proper conduct.

Despite his elevated magical rank and status, he still regularly sent respectful letters to Katia.

Just as he'd rushed about to help Elente during her family crisis, or protected Denise's dignity while dismantling House Beltus—these actions reflected his values.

To Derek, master-disciple bonds weren't relationships to be formed and discarded lightly.

'If I'm doing this, I'll do it properly. If I'm taking more disciples, I must commit to teaching them well.'

- Whoosh!

3-Star Transformation Magic"Acceleration."

Derek had reinterpreted Sirine's signature spell, implementing it through more efficient magical pathways.

Furthermore, by utilizing the residual magical echoes in the staff"Footsteps,"he could cast Acceleration again without additional energy cost.

Channeling the surplus energy into Transformation Magic"Elemental Shift"and Confusion Magic"Refraction"allowed him to transfer the acceleration effect from his body to other objects.

The result made it seem as if time itself flowed faster for the targeted material.

4-Star Transformation Magic"Distortion"

Most transformation mages would require considerable time to comprehend, analyze, and practically apply these principles.

But Derek, a mercenary mage from the Wild School unbound by orthodox systems, mastered this new 4-Star magic almost instantly.

- Thunk!

When Derek drew and threw a dagger, the blade—affected by Distortion—embedded itself in a distant conifer's trunk almost instantaneously.

The dagger's force and trajectory seemed warped by temporal distortion, making its movement nearly impossible to predict.

'Applying this to combat magic will make striking enemies'vulnerabilities much easier.'

Derek flexed his hands, assessing his progress.

'Unless someone can intuitively grasp and internalize this magic's manifestation process, teaching it would be meaningless.'

Wiping sweat from pushing his limits, Derek sat briefly on a wooden chair to catch his breath.

Servants waiting at the training ground's periphery approached with towels and chilled water.

As Derek reached out, he noticed the maid's trembling fingertips.

"..."

A quick glance revealed her as a newcomer—likely witnessing Derek's magical training for the first time. Her eyes held the wary gaze one might direct toward weaponry.

The training grounds bore testament to Derek's combat magic practice—upturned turf, distorted earth, creating a battlefield-like devastation.

"No need to bring these unless I specifically request them."

"Y-yes, my lord."

With indifferent eyes, Derek dismissed the flustered maid. Though Delbritton must have trained her, such reactions only created discomfort.

The thought crystallized: teaching magic to those unprepared to receive it would be pointless. Watching the panicked maid reinforced this.

Casually accepting disciples for political gain contradicted his principles.

The solution? Identify truly worthy candidates deserving proper instruction.

Additionally, he needed to fulfill his promise regarding the Duplein family's restoration—killing two birds with one stone.

"After consideration, I've concluded Lady Diela is the most trustworthy candidate."

The next day, news spread of Baron Ravenclaw personally visiting Diela's Evelstein townhouse.

With speculation about Derek's next disciple being the hottest topic in noble circles, his rare appearance in Evelstein—immediately seeking out Diela—carried immense significance.

For the Duplein sisters already prominent in Rosea Salon society, this development practically gifted them wings. Well-connected nobles promptly relayed the news to their families.

Yet the most astonished person was Diela herself.

"M-me?!"

Diela's expression mirrored someone struck by lightning out of clear skies.

Exhausted from late-night magical studies, her usually lush hair stuck out wildly when Derek's visit was announced—nearly making her faint.

Though hastily groomed by her head maid, chipped nails and loose eyelashes left her mortified.

Still, leaving Derek to stare at walls seemed improper, so she rushed out despite her embarrassment.

"Admittedly sudden, but this decision followed lengthy deliberation. Though my origins are humble and status still modest, many now seek my magical instruction. Establishing hierarchy among them requires a central figure—I believe you're ideally suited, Lady Diela."

Diela Catherine Duplein was among Derek's younger disciples.

Yet he proposed placing her as the senior disciple overseeing others.

By pure magical achievement, Sirine or Denise would rank higher.

Sirine was a born prodigy, while Denise displayed absurd mastery speed.

Either could be considered his"first disciple,"but for maintaining discipline among all students, Derek chose Diela.

She possessed innate leadership qualities—similar yet distinct from Elente's.

Where Elente harmoniously guided her people, Diela could command absolute loyalty through sheer charisma.

Though brash, rude, and seemingly reckless... properly honed, these traits became formidable leadership assets.

"Senior disciple? What... what does that change?"

"Rumors swirl in Evelstein society about me taking new disciples. Where there's smoke, there's fire—the rumors aren't unfounded."

"You're... taking more disciples?"

Diela's lips puckered.

Between Derek's growing responsibilities and expanding roster of students, her interactions with him had dwindled.

Pride prevented Diela from clingingly expressing her longing. Yet remaining passive made her fret over Derek—even she recognized how troublesome this made her.

Now more disciples? Was he founding an entire school?

"Naturally, I won't accept just anyone. But thoroughly vetting each candidate isn't feasible either... Hence these published requirements: anyone seeking my tutelage must first obtain the senior disciple's approval."

In any organization, personnel authority rested with key figures.

Derek intended to entrust all disciple selection to Diela—having observed him longest, she best understood what he valued.

"I fully trust your judgment, Lady Diela. This will be announced publicly."

Derek's firm declaration left Diela momentarily dazed before her cheeks flushed.

"W-wait! Derek! Your disciples should... you should choose them!"

"As I said, that's become impractical. I trust your discernment."

"B-but others have good judgment too! Like Aiselin unnie—"

"Officially, Lady Aiselin isn't my direct disciple."

"Then... Lady Elente or Lady Denise—"

Derek stated unequivocally:

"Regarding leadership qualities—assessing, employing, and judging people—I trust you far more. Haven't I been saying so?"

His unwavering certainty made Diela's spine tingle with warmth. Considering his disciples'illustrious ranks, being declared the foremost carried immense significance.

What was this feeling? Suddenly flustered and overheated, Diela fanned herself while averting her gaze.

Those long acquainted with Derek knew he rarely gave empty praise.

His sincere recognition ignited such warmth that Diela gulped chilled water.

"Gah..."

"...?"

"Eep!"

Suppressing an undignified giggle by pressing her lips, Diela cleared her throat.

Then, primly folding her hands on her lap... she attempted dignified noble speech:

"Really?! Truly?!"

...Or tried to.

But she remained a girl of that age.

Surrounded by Derek's exceptional associates, Diela had worried her own brilliance might pale in comparison.

Yet hearing Derek declare her the best made her heart soar uncontrollably.

Diela stomped her feet excitedly, eyes sparkling.

When Derek nodded confirmation, she snorted through flared nostrils while pounding her knees.

"W-well, if you insist! You're so busy anyway!"

Rumors about Derek seeking a fifth disciple had circulated for some time.

Clearly, he wished to teach more magic.

Yet in her heart, Diela apologized to him:

'Though grateful for your trust, I'm sorry, Derek.'

With a girlish smile blooming across her face, Diela vowed silently:

'I don't plan to approve a single candidate.'

Becoming Baron Ravenclaw's direct disciple.

In Evelstein's high society, few could meet that threshold.

The next day, Ravenclaw Manor announced accepting a fifth direct disciple—news swiftly posted on Elfontaine Hall's bulletin board.

- Murmur murmur

While many anticipated crowds of applicants, the published conditions made noble ladies collectively gulp dryly.

The requirement left them stunned:

Approval from Diela—Duplein's de facto leader and Rosea Salon's tyrant—was mandatory.

"..."

Tricia and countless noble ladies stared with dead fish eyes.

Quite literally—there was simply no way forward.