Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 240

- Thud, thud!

-'Leave none alive! Not a single trace of the Flameheart family shall remain—burn everything to ashes!'

-'By Emperor Gertrel's decree! Until the Flameheart patriarch shows himself, burn everything in sight! Their followers, their territory's people—all the same!'

The night burns red.

A scene that resurfaces in Pellin's memory whenever she lets her guard down.

The wheat fields her peasant father tended through the seasons were now ablaze, illuminating the dark night.

Amid the crackling flames consuming the village, soldiers brandished swords wildly.

The political strife and covert conflicts between the Flameheart and Luxell families of the western coastal region meant nothing to young Pellin—just a child then.

To her eyes, the world was simply burning. Soldiers in armor emblazoned with noble crests stormed in as people were stabbed, slashed, and fell.

Inside their burning home, her father flung open the cellar door and embraced her tightly. He told her never to come out. Not until all grew quiet, not until she was certain the chaos had ended... Never open this door.

Once it was over, he'd return with her mother. Until then, she must stay hidden.

Tear-streaked Pellin nodded as the wooden cellar door slammed shut. No light entered—only the muffled sounds of objects being piled atop it.

Her father covered the entrance with fireproof household items before sprinting toward the burning wheat fields.

The world of a little girl who'd been picking flowers on the hillside crumbled. Knees hugged tight in the darkness, she trembled, praying endlessly for this ordeal to pass.

An eternity later, a sudden clatter announced the cellar door opening.

In the flood of light stood a mercenary with a jagged scar across his face.

Jayden—a survivor of the Dawn War, a mercenary from Evelstain.

From then, time raced forward. If her past life had been a languid spring day, what followed was a harsh winter.

Each moment etched itself into her memory like strokes on a canvas, forming the foundation of who she became.

Holding Jayden's calloused hand, she walked through the scorched ruins.

At the field's edge, they found her parents'bodies. After burying them on the outskirts, she stood silent for a long while.

They wandered tavern streets teeming with rough mercenaries. When a shoulder knocked her down, Jayden pulled her up.

The old mercenary invested his remaining funds into a sizable tavern, founding the Velderun Mercenary Group. Its innermost room became Pellin's.

Small and shabby, but when she buried her face in its pillow, it almost felt like home.

Patrolling Evelstain's outskirts, she hunted magical beasts and learned to track wildlife.

One day, trying a drunkard's borrowed bow, the weapon felt right in her hands. Saving earnings from odd jobs and Jayden's contributions, she bought a compact shortbow.

By the time she outgrew childish looks, she'd gained renown in the tavern district as a capable archer.

She held her own in perilous labyrinths, remaining calm under pressure to find escape routes.

Mastering every bladed weapon, picking simple locks, hitting any visible target—though wielding no magic, she became a capable labyrinth mercenary, rising as one of the group's most formidable members.

Before her coming-of-age ceremony, she'd slain over six hundred magical beasts and earned several gold coins in contracts.

Clad in fine robes and a tunic, her belt lined with potions, she concealed premium daggers at her thighs.

Slouched at tavern tables gulping mead, one hand always lingered near her dagger's hilt.

Platinum hair tied back. Relaxed eyes that turned sharp. Cheeks flushed from drink, lips curled in perpetual amusement.

Outwardly a carefree girl—peel back one layer to find a veteran mercenary who could fatally wound seasoned fighters in one strike. A rogue archer.

After years in Evelstain's underbelly, she finally met a boy Jayden brought in.

White hair, red eyes. Blank stare, shabby clothes, slight for a boy.

He glanced at Pellin dismissively, nodding as if she were nothing.

"Got something to say?"

More machine than human.

That first impression wasn't unfounded. Back then, Derek lived solely to survive the mercenary underworld.

Though they'd become Evelstain's most renowned mercenaries, at the time they seemed like street urchins.

Not entirely wrong.

"Back then you were so cold and inhuman... but lately, not so much. Derek."

During Pellin's rare visit, Derek sat at his office desk massaging his temples.

Clearly burdened by numerous headaches.

During their mercenary days, he'd faced mortal danger without flinching. Reliable, yet inhuman.

Since gaining nobility, his frequent brow-furrowing made him seem more... human.

Compared to monster-slaying mercenary work, aristocratic affairs were far more complex and political.

Different skills were needed now—no wonder he was stressed.

"Yeah... between monitoring Gremfort Palace and internal faction conflicts, it's overwhelming."

"Watching nobles claw at each other's throats is entertaining though, no?"

"Fun for spectators like you. For me, it's hell. Whether I accept or reject the Rochester family's marriage proposal, trouble brews either way."

"Wow, Derek. Born under a lucky star with women, aren't you?"

Derek glared as Pellin smirked, plopping onto a guest table.

"Kidding, kidding. Living comfortably thanks to you lately... thought I'd return the favor."

"Return the favor?"

"Heard rumors at Amarilis House—seems you've got admirers everywhere. Living the dream, huh?"

"That phrasing makes it worse..."

"What's wrong? Men should enjoy such situations. But if the proposal's burdensome, I'll handle it. I'm good at that."

"What?"

Both knew Pellin cared nothing for romance—she just enjoyed watching nobles squirm.

Her volunteering was unexpected. What could she even do?

"Technically, I'm the legitimate lady of House Ravenclaw. Hate formalities, so I've ignored it, but still."

"...What are you planning?"

"Pushing aside the legal wife for marriage would look bad, right? If I quietly step aside, it's manageable. But if I make noise... headaches galore."

Brushing back platinum hair, Pellin grinned slyly.

"Been too comfortable lately—grown soft. Good opportunity. Owe you for all you've done. Time to earn my keep."

"..."

"Remember, Derek? After meeting at Velderun Mercenary Group, we dominated Evelstain's underworld."

Crossing her legs, Pellin leaned back, gazing wistfully at the ceiling.

Born a peasant's daughter, she'd lost much and gained much.

With a white-haired mercenary, she'd cleared hundreds of labyrinths, crossed snowy mountains, traversed monster-infested swamps, hunted bandits, camped under stars, skinned beasts.

Starry grassland nights by crackling bonfires, cleaning bloodied gear while chatting about buttered bread or chicken stew.

Compared to those survival-driven days, recent times felt peaceful to the point of boredom.

"If rejecting Rochester's proposal is too burdensome, I'll provoke Lady Sieren into a duel to squash it. Got ideas..."

"..."

"Where's that Sieren girl now?"

Sieren crouched in Lavender Hall's corner.

With few residents, the dormitory felt dark and desolate. Four people occupying this spacious building was absurdly luxurious.

Normally, Sieren would finish meals expressionlessly and head for magic training.

Lately, she often spaced out or flushed inexplicably.

After defiantly shouting at Melberot and storming out, hiding in the dorm to collect her thoughts always circled back to Derek.

A good mentor, a good man—but she never expected marriage talks to surface so abruptly. Just thinking about it made her cheeks burn, disrupting magic practice.

'If this proceeds... would I become part of House Ravenclaw? As the lady... would I need my own room...?'

Lost in chaotic imagination—

- Bang!

The main hall door burst open.

Snapping back to reality, Sieren turned to see Pellin standing triumphantly.

"Y-you..."

"Oh, the Rochester girl's here."

Lady Ravenclaw.

Nominally Derek's legal wife, though rarely seen at the academy. Unfamiliar with her, Sieren hesitated on how to respond.

Seizing the moment, Pellin declared:

"You're messing with my meal ticket, you little vixen."

"...????"

"S-should we have stopped Lady Pellin?"

"...I was thinking the same."

After Pellin left proudly declaring it time to"earn her keep,"Aiselin served Derek tea with concern.

"Provoking Lady Sieren into a duel... Does she mean to fight over the wife position...?"

"..."

"Sh-she wants to avoid Derek rejecting the proposal directly, so as the legal wife, she'll crush Lady Sieren... But a duel... what's the point...?"

Derek pondered deeply, arms crossed.

Aiselin studied him before setting down the tea with bated breath.

"L-lady Sieren's a 4-Star mage. She rivals family heads in magic—if she goes berserk... This could escalate terribly. Lady Pellin has zero magic as a former mercenary... Things might spiral..."

-'Derek, I'll play the gold-digging thief exploiting you. If she truly wants you, she'll explode.'

-'...Playing the villain? Not easy...'

-'Relax. I'm good at this.'

Pellin's confidence unsettled Derek.

Having fought alongside her since childhood, he knew her better than anyone.

"..."

Now a count commanding many, he understood.

Leaders need not wealth or authority, but people.

Those with the most capable, reliable talent endure at the top.

Melberot, Countess Rodea, Empress Rozelyn—all desperately sought Derek for this reason. Sitting here now, he grasped their hunger for talent.

He aimed to gather as many capable individuals as possible within reach.

Head butler Delbritton, gambler Ryner, Aiselin of Duplein—many now served as House Ravenclaw's advisors unreservedly.

Though expanding influence, Derek kept cards close.

Hidden talents remained—the more reserves, the better.

If asked to name his sharpest weapon, one came to mind instantly.

"It's not Pellin I'm worried about, Lady Aiselin."

"...Pardon?"

"True, 4-Star mages possess extraordinary power. Limit-breaking magic can kill with a graze. But battlefields favor diverse skills."

Pellin the Sentinel.

Placed as the nominal wife, kept at Ravenclaw Academy—Derek's long-held comrade remained for good reason.

Derek was an exceptional mage and veteran mercenary.

His magical prowess came from numerous mentors.

But his mercenary acumen?

Jayden of Velderun Mercenary Group came to mind—but not solely.

One comrade, rival, and battle-sister had perfected the mercenary Derek. Her qualities, known only to him.

"Duels aren't decided by magic alone. Have you faced mercenaries experienced against archmages, Lady Aiselin?"

"N-no..."

"With more experience, perhaps... but currently, Lady Sieren's too young and green for Pellin."

"...B-but Lady Sieren's... a 4-Star mage... Derek!"

"......."

House Ravenclaw brimmed with talent.

Among them, Pellin was the oldest.

Lady Pellin Lydoff Ravenclaw.

Her meteoric rise spawned countless rumors about her true nature.

Now it made sense. To claim Ravenclaw, one must first remove her.

The"Sentinel"title fit—she'd stood by Derek longest.

"What's with the glare? Jealous of my countess position?"

Legs crossed, chin propped, her icy gaze bore down—utterly unlike Sieren's expectations.

Far worse than the"nominal wife"rumors suggested.

Yet her aura differed entirely from noble ladies. The crimson glint in her half-lidded eyes mirrored Derek's battlefield demeanor.

The one who'd fought alongside him longest, supported him in battle, now guarding the countess title.

Even facing the north's infamous murderer, she smirked dismissively.