Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 244

"If we've reached a conclusion, there's no need to linger. If I stay too long guarding the northern borders like this, the southwestern nobles will react swiftly."

Melberot spoke in a noticeably lighter tone.

With matters concerning Sirine roughly settled, there seemed no need for further deliberation.

Seeing Melberot's demeanor, Aiselin also relaxed, letting out a sigh of relief. This unexpected visit from Melberot appeared to be resolving itself smoothly.

"Actually, we've received word from Border Count Belmierd and Lady Rodea. If you stay just one or two more days... you might meet them in person."

"That won't do. I'm a busy man—no time for formalities with territorial nobles."

"Is that so..."

"Of course. Does it look like I have leisure to come running all the way from the northern snowfields just for Sirine's marriage proposal?"

Derek nearly retorted but held back. The Melberot he knew would cross oceans if something happened to Sirine.

Yet Melberot wasn't entirely wrong. As lord of northern Rocheste Territory, his sudden absence likely had complex reasons.

"Sirine's matter was important, of course... but since I'm here, there were other things to discuss."

"Had you sent a letter, I would have visited Rocheste Territory first."

"As I said, I wanted to see Sirine's face after so long, and... it was time to move anyway."

Melberot rarely left northern Rocheste Territory.

Only urgent summons from central noble conferences could budge him—and even then, only during crises like when Phee turned the eastern continent upside down.

In short, something of similar magnitude must be happening.

"You look tense. It's not that serious, but not trivial either."

"...Did Gremfort Palace summon you?"

"Yes. They said relations with House Rocheste had grown distant and wanted to check in."

Melberot cared little for imperial politics. Such personal correspondence was unusual.

Gremfort Palace was likely in chaos—Empress Rozelyn missing, Damon and Kohlera vying for control. Derek had even sent Ryner as an informant.

Melberot's movement at this time was concerning.

As expected, Melberot cut to the chase.

"Tell Her Majesty Rozelyn this: The time for academic farces won't last much longer."

"...You knew I took Her Majesty?"

"Do you think Damon or Kohlera don't know? They lack proof. Frankly, who took the empress matters little—they're just fighting for justification."

Having heard Gremfort Palace's situation, Melberot seemed certain.

Damon and Kohlera sought to eliminate rivals while the empress was absent.

"...Lord Melberot, you said Gremfort Palace summoned you?"

"Yes. What do you think it means, calling me at this ambiguous time?"

Derek intuited.

The palace's internal chaos must have stabilized somewhat. Otherwise, they wouldn't summon outsiders.

Someone had seized control—likely eliminating opposition.

Either Damon or Kohlera had fallen.

Naturally, the next question followed.

"...Who sent the letter from Gremfort Palace?"

Melberot smirked.

Derek's expression grew solemn at the answer.

- Crunch! Crack!

- Whiiish!

When Derek arrived at Lavender Dormitory after concluding talks with Melberot, half the building was already demolished.

With few students using it and Delbritton having evacuated people beforehand, only property damage remained.

But the spectacle was unavoidable.

Staff gathered to clear debris swallowed hard at the sight.

- Thud!

Then someone emerged from the wreckage, dusting themselves off.

A torn frilly dress, a chipped dagger, dragging a large longbow.

"Oh, Derek. Perfect timing. Just wrapped up here."

"Wrapped up? Looks like it just started."

"Mission accomplished, so don't worry~. Your face says things went well with Melberot?"

"...They did. But are you alright?"

"Mmm~. Had some close calls, but no major issues~."

Students already crowded the garden, gaping at the destruction.

Though too distant to hear, Pellin's casual greeting to Derek inspired awe.

Everyone knew how terrifying an enraged Sirine could be.

But overwhelming power meant nothing if never unleashed.

Having subdued Sirine through sheer experience, Pellin remained unruffled.

-'Countess Ravenclaw...! R-rumor said she was just a figurehead...!'

-'L-Lady Sirine...? W-where is she...? She was furious earlier...!'

Amidst murmurs, Pellin ignored them, simply retying her hair.

Then she whispered:

"Didn't beat her too badly, but she might have scratches from debris."

She worried for Sirine, who seemed like a naive child to her.

All academy girls appeared as sheltered fools in Pellin's eyes.

"Derek, handle the aftermath. She'll grind her teeth seeing me. Staff seem scared of her too."

Staff nearby were indeed tense.

Somewhere in that wreckage was a furious 4-Star mage capable of leveling walls.

"Well, with this ruckus, marriage talks will cool off. Congrats on extended bachelorhood."

"This'll fuel nasty rumors."

"Let them gossip. I don't care what pampered nobles whisper. All they do is tremble and chatter."

Pellin smiled, embracing the scandal.

"But I might've provoked Sirine too much. She was livid... you check on her."

"...Turning all my direct disciples into enemies—can you handle that?"

"Told you—I excel at this. Crushing pride gets me pumped."

Laughing, Pellin vaulted off the wreckage, dress fluttering.

"Tell anyone eyeing the Countess position to study harder. I don't dodge challenges."

Her departure radiated confidence.

Rumors would spread—to claim Ravenclaw Count, one must first surpass his guardian, Pellin.

- Crackle, crackle.

Roaming snowy fields then dozing by the fireplace—Sirine's childhood memories alternated between warmth and cold.

Northerners grew accustomed to such contrasts.

You only value what you hold when you've lost it. Only in snowfields does fire's warmth become precious.

Raised this way, even warmth made her imagine coming cold.

Setbacks arrive when nearly forgotten.

Yet after coming to Ravenclaw Academy, she'd basked in happiness too long.

Daily magic training, butterfly-filled meadows, delicious meals, ample rest.

Her growing prowess made her forget the icy spire of her past.

Then talk of marrying Ravenclaw Count—she felt like the world's protagonist.

Had life's harshness been foreshadowing this bliss?

Drunk on joy, the world seemed paradise.

Then came reality.

"Ugh... nngh..."

Had she blacked out?

Covered in dust and sweat, she stirred on someone's back moving through dim corridors.

The broad shoulders and silver hair tickling her nose told her who.

"Awake?"

"D-Derek."

"Heard what happened. Lavender Dormitory's unusable—rest in the main building today."

"..."

Being carried embarrassed Sirine.

Yet recalling her defeat froze any warmth.

"I..."

"...Don't overthink it. Rest first."

Staff and students had kept their distance—hence Derek carrying her.

But Sirine couldn't smile.

She'd come to surpass Melberot and Derek.

Yet couldn't touch a magicless slum mercenary.

Derek's longtime comrade had controlled the battlefield effortlessly.

Even geniuses retreat before veteran strategies.

Her first true defeat.

Humiliated, she'd failed to avenge insults to her father and teacher.

Her hands on Derek's neck trembled.

As muffled sobs came, Derek looked at the starry sky.

Fireflies flickered as he walked on.

"Lost... pathetically, Derek..."

"..."

Derek adjusted his grip and kept walking.

"Sometimes... it's necessary."

Empty comfort would ring hollow.

Sometimes silence made the best teacher.