Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 194

"Inconsistent evaluation of talent's worth will breed resentment later. Granting House Renuel's Countess Rodea—who dedicated her life to exterminating necromancers—equal treatment to someone of her caliber... From my perspective, it might be favorable, but other loyalists may feel disillusioned."

The words were polished.

For a mere border baron to refuse a title personally bestowed by an imperial princess was unthinkable.

Thus, Derek presented plausible reasons while feigning concern for the princess.

But stripped to its core, it simply meant he didn't want it.

"How amusing. You do realize what opportunity you're kicking away...?"

"I'm profoundly grateful. I'll strive to contribute more to the empire."

Princess Roselyn studied Derek's impenetrable expression before wiping her face and speaking in a low voice.

"This venue is unsuitable. Follow me."

Leading Derek to an inner corridor off the main hall, she entered an empty room and shut the door.

Some conversations were best held without witnesses.

"So. You know how to negotiate. Few have the audacity to stand so defiant before me."

In the vacant room with only a wooden table and chairs, she perched on the table, arms crossed.

"Not negotiation... Just stating facts."

"I brought you here out of consideration. Speak plainly—why refuse western borderlands, a March Lord title, even a Countship? Only two possibilities remain."

Her spiky crimson hair matched her assertive personality.

The dim dress blended into the shadowed room like part of the darkness itself.

No trace of the radiant, vivacious image expected of royalty—Princess Roselyn belonged more to the shadows.

"Either the reward feels insufficient... or you refuse to serve under me."

"..."

"If the former, I'd dismiss you as arrogant. But you don't strike me as such."

Roselyn had her own discernment.

Even for an extraordinary offer, Derek wasn't the type to overestimate himself.

Conclusion: He simply didn't want to serve Roselyn.

The why mattered.

Disinterest in power? Or low regard for Roselyn herself?

Her attitude would hinge on the answer.

Experience taught her:

In this icy political arena, you're either ally or enemy. Those refusing alliance would eventually oppose her.

"Magic training and teaching noblewomen suffice. If supporting Princess Roselyn through this transitional period is desired, I'll gladly comply."

But Derek's response defied expectations.

Not empty flattery—he neither fawned nor made excuses.

Now she understood why Melberot favored him. The man wasted no words.

"First noble I've seen refuse land and title. Didn't you petition Melberot for that barony?"

"Proper magic training requires noble status nowadays. This rank suffices for my needs. Nothing more."

Roselyn's eyes widened.

In this era where magic symbolized noble authority, she despised those who flaunted magical prowess to justify inherited privilege.

Yet Derek was the opposite.

Not pursuing magic for status, but status for magic.

Having secured sufficient rank, he sought nothing further, wholly absorbed in magical training.

Many said Derek resembled Kochella.

But their orientations differed completely.

Where Kochella was a fanatic sacrificing all for magical advancement, this man found meaning in the training itself.

'More... substantial than expected.'

Roselyn swallowed dryly.

However useful politically, she now simply wanted Derek for himself.

'Still... higher rank is necessary. A border baron can't stand against central nobles. Without authority, he'd be toyed with by old foxes like Damon or Kochella.'

Roselyn sighed deeply, roughly scratching her voluminous hair.

Undignified behavior, but Derek couldn't comment.

He simply watched blankly.

"Very well... Let's speak frankly."

"Please do."

"I like you. While I consolidate imperial authority at Gremfort Palace, your assistance would be invaluable. Yet I'm unsure how to persuade you."

Though conceding, Roselyn kept her pride.

Pouting slightly, she continued with a sullen expression.

"Alternative proposal: If magic training pleases you, I'll officially recognize Ravenclaw Academy as an imperial institution. Access to palace-grade magical materials. All top-quality."

Derek's eyes lit up.

The man who hadn't flinched at a Countship now reacted to magical support—how perplexing.

"Truly? Imperial endorsement for such facilities carries deep political implications."

"Irrelevant. I believe magical education should expand. We'll fund reconstruction and expansion—make it the empire's premier institution. The old nobles will rage, but that's my concern."

Roselyn seemed relieved to find leverage.

"In exchange, you'll accept the title."

Derek's face fell again.

Roselyn had never seen someone make that expression when offered nobility.

"Must you look so disgusted before royalty...?"

"Apologies. Your Highness has remarkable persuasive power..."

"Who's persuading whom?! I'm humbling myself here!"

Derek inexplicably provoked her, but Roselyn massaged her temples and sighed.

This was simply Derek. Accepting that made reactions unnecessary.

"Haah..."

Roselyn wiped her face again.

Dealing with Derek's unpredictability was exhausting.

"Any other requests? My generosity is rare—consider this an opportunity."

"..."

"Your expression suggests something. Very well—what is it?"

"..."

"...Why hesitate? Speak."

As Roselyn scratched her head impatiently, Derek reluctantly voiced his desire.

"The 6-Star magical weapon...'Light of the Empire'..."

"..."

"Imperial decree likely transferred ownership to you. I wish to wield it once."

"...Now I understand your hesitation. Indeed, poor timing."

Requesting a deceased's heirloom was improper regardless.

With time, he might ask cautiously—but not so soon after her father's death.

This realization further deflated Roselyn.

For all his arrogance, the man understood propriety.

Baron Derek Raidof Ravenclaw balanced defiance with restraint in confounding ways.

That enigmatic quality was compelling. His noble disciples likely felt similarly.

At his core burned pure magical passion.

Though disliking magic generally, Roselyn didn't oppose this variety.

'Had all mages been like him, I might not have despised magic so.'

Roselyn sighed deeply.

"I see... A 6-Star weapon isn't easily encountered."

"Is it possible?"

"Absolutely not."

"..."

Derek's face soured again.

But now Roselyn felt satisfaction rather than offense. How bizarre.

"You've abandoned pretense entirely."

"Apologies. This isn't my forte."

"The Light symbolizes imperial authority. None may touch it lightly. The attunement process alone is grueling."

Roselyn flicked her dress hem.

"That said, if you need a weapon, I can have our royal magician provide something suitable. As a family-head caliber mage, you deserve 5-Star armaments."

"...Unnecessary."

"...Do you die if you don't refuse favors? Be honest—do you dislike me?"

"Not at all. I plan to craft my own weapon. As transformation magic practice..."

"..."

Roselyn studied Derek skeptically.

Was this an excuse or genuine? His poker face was impenetrable.

"You misunderstand—I'm deeply grateful. Why would I oppose such generosity?"

"...This conversation is strangely frustrating..."

"Please reconsider. And while preparing for Gremfort's political shifts is important... isn't there something more pressing?"

With the emperor dead and continental upheaval imminent, what could surpass that?

As Roselyn looked puzzled, Derek produced a crumpled letter.

"This is...?"

"His Majesty Gertrel's final letter. Likely intended for you."

Roselyn's eyes widened.

"Why now...?"

"Discovered during investigation. Beneath the carpet. Probably his final thoughts of you before sleeping."

Though unaware it would be his last words, for Roselyn they held significance.

Likely wishes for his daughter's survival in Gremfort's treacherous halls.

"You excel at suppressing emotions for rational decisions. Even now, seeking optimal solutions while others panic."

Handing over the letter, Derek added casually:

"But constant rationality is unnecessary. Unprocessed emotions become future burdens."

"..."

"Your cradle-like protector is gone. Your duty isn't politics or power struggles."

Derek seemed to grasp Roselyn's underlying emotions.

Her father was dead.

The fact simply existed.

In life-and-death urgency, she'd focused on survival.

Amidst the chaos mage's rampage and the sealed scene, political turmoil loomed.

Battered by the storm, delaying emotional processing was dangerous. People broke that way.

Derek knew this well.

"..."

"I'll take my leave. Find me in the main hall if needed."

With a curt bow, Derek exited, as if negotiations were secondary.

Alone at the desk, Roselyn unfolded the letter.

As always, Emperor Gertrel had written affectionate concerns.

Unaware these would be his final words, he'd penned them late at night.

Imagining this, Roselyn bowed her head.

Amidst the crisis, none considered her emotions. To them, she was untouchable.

Her composed handling of the regicide and chaos mage crisis marked her as successor material.

But first, she was a bereaved daughter.

Grief comes to all, disregarding status. Urgency couldn't negate loss.

Because she was human.

A common archetype.

The stronger the facade, the greater the inner turmoil. Such people often protested loudest.

So Derek had seen.

"...Insolent."

Head still bowed, Roselyn muttered this hollow criticism.

Alone in the room, she trembled slightly.

None witnessed this vulnerability.

"...."

Exiting into the corridor, Derek stretched before observing the blinding midday sun.

Chuckling wryly, he headed to check on the noblewomen in the main hall.