Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 178

"Even the Empire's Sword, Lord Melberot, grows soft with age when it comes to his child. It must have pained him to keep his only daughter locked in that spire for so long. Don't you think?"

Around the changing seasons, high-ranking central nobles gather in the grand conference hall of Gremfort Palace in the imperial capital to discuss the empire's affairs.

Though primarily an assembly of privilege-conscious central nobles, Melberot, a territorial noble from the north, occasionally attended these meetings.

His status as the embodiment of the empire's military might, combined with his relatively lighter duties compared to nobles from more fertile territories, allowed him this luxury.

From the imperial perspective, having the Empire's Sword regularly visit Gremfort Palace held significant meaning—it consistently reaffirmed that Melberot, whom most mages couldn't even approach, still served as the imperial shield.

Thus, the imperial family always warmly received Melberot's visits to Gremfort Palace.

All except one member.

"...Princess Roselyn remains as sharp-tongued as ever today."

"Hehe, just like Lord Melberot. You were already an old man when I first learned arithmetic, yet you've aged without a single wrinkle—almost inhuman."

"You flatter me."

Melberot raised a hand, signaling the surrounding officials to leave. The bureaucrats quickly dispersed at his gesture.

The imperial noble officials following Melberot out of the conference room also scattered awkwardly under the princess's gaze.

In Gremfort Palace, teeming with noble faction bureaucrats, Princess Roselyn—a symbol of the imperial faction—stood out like a thorn in their side.

Yet the princess absorbed their uncomfortable stares with ease, resting her hands on her hips as she let out a hollow laugh.

"Scattering without meeting my eyes like frightened mice. They'd do better feeling ashamed of their own corruption."

"They can hear you."

"I meant them to. What? Are you afraid of those bloated pigs too, Lord Melberot? A man who could bisect this palace with a wave of his hand?"

The first word that came to mind when observing Princess Roselyn was"incongruity."

Every aspect of her being defied harmony.

Despite her young age—having only recently undergone her coming-of-age ceremony—her speech resembled that of a centenarian. She frequently quoted archaic phrases and outdated expressions, her inner self already worn to the bone.

Though Emperor Gertrel's favorite daughter, nobles whispered about her behind closed hands. This tension with palace bureaucrats often erupted into disputes over administrative matters.

No official in the imperial palace found her presence comfortable.

Melberot wasn't much different. He knew well that keeping distance from such disruptive figures was the wiser course, but Roselyn seemed determined to bridge that gap.

"Derek Raidof Ravenclaw, Baron."

"..."

"The man you personally recommended for a title, correct? His name surfaced several times during state meetings. I took special interest since the ever-indifferent Lord Melberot handpicked him."

She casually twirled a lock of her cascading hair with a relaxed smile.

Her hair hovered between black and red—the tangled two-toned strands seemingly representing her dual nature.

Sinister or perhaps cruel.

So whispered the noble faction bureaucrats about her.

And Princess Roselyn never once denied these rumors.

What that implied remained unclear.

"You've tucked a tutor for your daughter into your pocket like a hidden ace. What wind blew you into such sentimentality, Lord Melberot?"

"I needed personnel to manage the frontier wine estates."

"Over a dozen petitions about Ravenclaw Academy have reached my desk. Do you expect me to believe that? I never took you for one to conceal ulterior motives."

Roselyn tilted her reddish eyes, propping her small chin as she drew out her words.

"How strange. I despise those bloated bureaucrats, yet held some favor for you precisely because you showed no interest in secular power. For all your capability, you remained humble."

"..."

"But now you're using a frontier noble to establish an academy? Hardly the act I'd expect from the Lord Melberot I knew. It feels... dissonant."

Though Roselyn's dress dripped with lavish ornaments, its grandeur paled against her inherent authority—a reflection of her character.

She valued pragmatism and rationality, believing a person's worth lay not in superficial authority but in their intrinsic capability and insight.

This very disposition made one aspect of the vast empire particularly distasteful to her.

"Have you too joined those foolish pigs? Believing petty magical talent determines human worth? I thought you, of all people, who reached the highest magical attainments, would know better."

"I didn't come to the imperial palace to debate such discourse."

"Yet you permit your subordinate to establish an academy educating noble ladies? I cannot ignore the implications of such actions."

Learning magic wasn't inherently bad—it differed little from mastering any other skill.

Knights swung swords, merchants counted coins, craftsmen wielded hammers, and farmers sowed seeds.

Mages learned magic to benefit the world and forge their paths—nothing more.

Magic was but one thread in the empire's tapestry. Proficiency didn't confer inherent superiority or nobility.

Roselyn's inevitable clashes with imperial bureaucrats stemmed from this unshakable conviction etched into her very being.

"Are you suggesting all this was Baron Ravenclaw's independent initiative? That you merely turned a blind eye?"

"Would you believe me if I said yes?"

"Haha. Of course not. The Melberot of House Rocheste allowing such autonomy? Even those fat pigs leaving the conference room wouldn't buy that."

One should never mistake the North's Melberot for a kind, benevolent soul.

He'd exiled several rule-breaking servants to the northern wastelands.

His subjects felt not reverence but terror in his presence.

Fear was an indispensable element of governance—at least in Melberot's philosophy.

Yet Roselyn faced him without flinching.

Her ability to remain unfazed before one of the world's greatest archmages had its reasons—her constitution was something all mages feared.

"At least I thought you differed from those privilege-drunk pigs who consider themselves noble just for wielding magic."

"..."

"You who never succumbed to power's intoxication, kept your edge sharp, judged keenly, understood a ruler's responsibilities... Or so I believed. Perhaps I was wrong. Maybe you're no different from that viper Kohlera or greedy Chairman Damon after all."

Melberot didn't rebut. He'd already discerned her intent.

Roselyn was deliberately provoking him with insincere remarks, waiting for his counterarguments.

But Melberot refused to play along.

Roselyn knew this too—Melberot would never fall for such transparent tactics.

She simply closed her eyes and spat out her words.

"Perhaps. But Derek has his own reasons for establishing the academy to teach magic. Though I doubt you'll appreciate them, given your disdain for treating magic as noble privilege."

"How intriguing. And what might those reasons be? I'll need to hear them before deciding during my upcoming inspection. Perfect timing too—I've business in Evelstain soon."

"...And if you disapprove?"

Roselyn swept back her hair, blinking brightly as if flames danced behind her.

"I'll burn it all down myself."

One understood why even radical bureaucrats kept their distance.

Melberot could only shut his eyes and turn away.

"The world was altered once."

Duplein family head's office.

Raeg, now with cropped hair and wearing the family head's attire, carried an air of genuine authority compared to his princeling days.

Meanwhile, Ryner—still a young lord—sat stinking up an expensive sofa in shabby clothes.

"So declared Princess Roselyn from the depths of Gremfort Palace's'Hall of Truth.'Among nobles frequenting the imperial capital, it's practically an urban legend."

Surprisingly, both Ryner and Raeg knew the tale of the legendary 6-star confusion mage Roselyn allegedly spoke of.

Raeg explained it was fairly well-known, though considered too fantastical to be more than an old wives'tale.

"Might sound unromantic to some... but we gamblers find it quite entertaining. Heh."

"Still haunting gambling dens, Ryner? Even House Belmierd seems to have given up searching for you..."

"Well, Elennte just wrinkles her nose and scowls whenever she sees me... Probably better I don't go near her."

"..."

Derek silently observed their bickering.

Ryner's absurdly extensive network—his sole redeeming quality—proved occasionally useful for gathering information.

"The world was altered once... What does that mean?"

"The young princess supposedly shouted it upon leaving the Hall of Truth one day. The implication being that a 6-star confusion mage overturned the world—twisting some colossal perception with impossibly vast magic."

"...Twisted? What exactly?"

"She never said. Roselyn clammed up right there."

"..."

Derek's expression soured at the anticlimax, but Ryner took a swig and sank deeper into the sofa.

"So we gamblers speculate. If a transcendent 6-star mage warped worldly perception, what could it be? You know these tales well too, Raeg."

"Heard plenty... All nonsense. Overthrowing emperors, reversing day and night, erasing villains from history... No reality to any of it."

"Really?"

"Obviously. Even a 6-star mage couldn't rewrite universal memory. It's..."

"Don't be such a boring adult analyzing legends. The fun's the point!"

Ryner's liquor sloshed as he belched and slung an arm over the sofa.

"History mentions one 6-star confusion mage—the Grand Witch Kellin of the Elim Mountains, wasn't it? Could dominate minds with just a glance."

"True. But even she couldn't reshape the world. Kalimford defeated her—executed at Gremfort Palace, I heard."

6-star mages push human limits but aren't omnipotent.

They might redraw maps and defy natural laws, but rewriting universal perception in an instant? Impossible.

Conspiracy theories. Urban legends. Barely more than folklore.

Yet the tale carried unexpected weight despite its absurdity.

"So it was dismissed as a child's ramblings?"

"Initially. But conspiracy theories persist for reasons. Puzzle pieces sometimes form intriguing pictures."

"Is Princess Roselyn knowledgeable about magic?"

"Quite the opposite—can't even wield 1-star magic. No, can't manipulate mana at all."

Derek's indifferent gaze prompted Raeg to shake his head.

High-ranking officials lacking magical aptitude were rare enough. What meaning could a magic-ignorant princess spreading confusion mage theories hold?

Likely meaningless gossip.

Yet both Ryner and Raeg fell silent.

"It's strange, no? Even if such a legendary mage existed, how could Princess Roselyn alone know about world-altering magic?"

"Precisely the crux, Derek."

"Huh?"

Family Head Raeg crossed his arms earnestly.

"You wouldn't know about the princess's constitution. High nobility knowledge."

"Constitution...?"

"She bears the'Anti-Magic Seal'—appearing once every three generations in the Gertrel line. *Hic*."

Her inability to use magic despite noble blood had a cause.

"No magic or mana affects her. Even her clipped nails and sweat droplets carry traces of the Seal's power."

"Indeed. Her very existence counters mages."

In an era where magic symbolized noble authority and power, such a royal trait held profound implications.

She'd die from normal blades, falls, or poison like anyone.

But magic alone could never touch her. Even the continent's greatest mage couldn't subdue her magically.

All magic proved futile before her.

Thus the conspiracy theory's persistence.

"......"

If a confusion mage truly existed beyond worldly perception...

Only one person on the continent could possibly detect them.

Conspiracy theories thrive on slivers of plausibility.

Derek studied Raeg and Ryner's meaningful expressions.