Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 249

"It all happened in an instant."

The Duplein family mansion had once collapsed and been rebuilt. As such, everything gleamed as if brand new.

Seeing ragged remnants of defeated soldiers stationed in such a place created a truly grotesque sight, but Raeg, the current head of the Duplein family, had ordered them all to be treated with utmost hospitality.

Meanwhile, Pellin, who had entered the family head's office in Duplein Mansion, wore an expression of shame as she delivered her report.

"The heart of Raven Valley was shrouded in deep darkness. Our escort party needed to reach Gremfort Palace as quickly as possible, so we had no choice but to take the fastest route available."

Raeg, Aiselin, and Diela stared in disbelief at Pellin's battered condition.

While her individual strength might be questionable, she excelled at improvising and utilizing environments to bridge strategic gaps—a true sentinel.

Even in an ambush situation—precisely when mercenary-born strategists like Pellin or Derek should shine brightest on the battlefield—

Pellin had returned battered and bruised, forced to retreat among the defeated soldiers.

"And then... in the deepest darkness at the valley's center... we were ambushed."

"You mean Empress Rozelyn's escort soldiers were attacked...?"

"Yes. As for who's behind it... it's painfully obvious. The mages who appeared above the valley wore robes embroidered with the central noble council's rose emblem. Though it was dark, my eyes saw clearly."

Pellin paused there, clutching her shoulder wound in pain.

A servant quickly brought pressure bandages and continued treating her.

"The terrain was unfavorable to begin with, confusion magic rained down everywhere, and we were outnumbered... We could barely resist. Count Ravenclaw and I had no choice but to place Empress Rozelyn on the fastest horse and flee like mad toward the valley's exit."

"..."

"...But our escape didn't last long. With limited exits from the valley, ambushes awaited at every turn. In that darkness, amidst endless enemies and magic... Count Ravenclaw made his decision."

By then, Aiselin and Diela's expressions had frozen.

It wasn't hard to guess what decision Count Ravenclaw had made when ambushed in pitch-black conditions.

After all, Count Ravenclaw wasn't among the defeated soldiers who had returned.

"He sent Empress Rozelyn ahead to safety and stood alone guarding the last remaining escape route. In that forest filled with nothing but darkness, against who knows how many enemies... he single-handedly held them off to protect her life."

"...And then?"

Unable to listen further, Diela slammed the table and stood.

Her face twisted like a tiger's as she stormed over and grabbed Pellin by the collar.

"I didn't summon you here to hear some pathetic war story! So what happened to Derek? Why didn't he return with you? Spit it out already!"

"...I placed Empress Rozelyn on the fastest horse. Then I attached two of our most reliable guards and successfully sent her fleeing toward Gremfort Palace. After that... I returned to Raven Valley as quickly as possible where Count Ravenclaw was holding his ground. The empress had escaped safely, so I went to tell him we should leave this battlefield too."

"And?"

"..."

Pellin stopped there, momentarily at a loss for words.

She hesitated, unsure how to convey what came next. That hesitation alone made the Duplein family members feel their hearts constrict.

"...Count Ravenclaw is a 5th-Class Mage, a monster capable of wielding large-scale war magic. No ordinary group of mages could easily subdue him."

"R-right...! We know Derek's abilities better than anyone...! Unless they brought a 6th-Class Mage or multiple 5th-Class Mages, there's no way he'd—"

"But the environment and circumstances were too unfavorable. We couldn't gauge enemy numbers, couldn't allow even a single pursuer through, and had to fight an endless war of attrition against opponents who held advantageous positions in open spaces. At minimum, several 3-Star Mages, one 4-Star Mage, and what appeared to be nearly a hundred in separate units. Fighting that many all night was an incredible feat, but..."

Still gripped by Diela, Pellin closed her eyes with a pained expression.

"By the time I arrived... it was already..."

The three couldn't bear to hear the details beyond that.

From the fragmented information that reached their ears... Countless arrows embedded in his back, blocking siege-level magic barrages, parrying dozens of blades while forcing himself to stand and slaughter enemies.

Yet in the end... he knelt on the grassland, head bowed.

The greatest magic teacher, a spiritual pillar for southwestern continent nobles, quietly knelt like that.

To his longest-traveled comrade Pellin, he mouthed words from afar.

Escape. Preserve your life.

You, the swiftest sentinel, are the only one who can deliver this news.

Thus, a heavy silence filled the family head's office.

'Wow~ My acting skills are insane. If I hadn't become a mercenary, maybe I'd have joined a theater troupe...??'

Pellin was intoxicated by her own emotional control.

The expression combining defeat, helplessness, exhaustion, and loss after failing to protect her lord on a crucial battlefield—gnawing her lower lip with tears welling—was worthy of a first-rate actor.

How thrilling to intuitively grasp the expression of tearing one's hair out while delivering tragic news before nobles.

Outwardly, Pellin resembled a tragic heroine who'd lost family. But inwardly... she was indescribably lively.

-'Pellin. I'll act separately from now on. Officially, I'll be dead to operate outside the noble faction bureaucrats'sight at Gremfort Palace. You'll need to set the stage well.'

These were Derek's words as he brushed off his clothes after trampling the ambushers in Raven Valley's heart.

It was a night attack, the environment was unfavorable, and various disadvantages piled up... but Derek skillfully used the valley's outer edges to conceal himself and pick off enemies one by one.

Calling it an overwhelming victory would be excessive.

The enemy numbers were substantial, with quite a few high-ranking mages mixed in, giving Derek some trouble. He sustained minor scratches here and there, but all inevitably fell under his control.

-'I'll head to Gremfort Palace to confront Damon directly. If the situation resolves with Damon having killed me, he'll find himself forced to oppose both imperial faction bureaucrats and frontier nobles.'

In short, Pellin just needed to return to Duplein Territory and make a scene with weeping and wailing.

"......I feel such profound shame toward myself. Never before have I... so acutely realized what a pathetic human I am...."

With god-tier acting, Pellin let tears stream down as she buried her head in the office desk.

Her sobbing voice left all present nobles petrified.

"If only I'd been... just a little faster. If I'd returned to the battlefield sooner to assist... No, if I'd noticed the ambush from the start... If only we hadn't entered that valley, no matter how pressed for time..."

"Pe-Pellin..."

"I regret... every single moment... Every decision made during the journey, every instant of contemplation on the battlefield... If only I'd chosen slightly better directions... Couldn't we have... found a better path...? Such thoughts... torment me endlessly...."

Getting into it, Pellin began full-on wailing.

"I was the sentinel serving under Count Ravenclaw. Who will punish me now for failing to protect him...? Will the young master of House Duplein... punish me...? For returning empty-handed, bearing only defeat... Execute me. Behead me. Otherwise... how can I bear this guilt with nowhere to direct it—"

"Ca-calm yourself, Sentinel Pellin. Losing your life too can't be what Count Ravenclaw desired..."

"But..! Damn it...! Why..! Why me..!"

- BANG!

For her grand finale, Pellin slammed the office desk... beautifully concluding her performance.

Curtains. Perfect.

Barely suppressing an itchy nose, Pellin pressed her lips firmly together.

The atmosphere had surpassed gloominess—it was practically a funeral.

Raeg, head of House Duplein, rose from his seat with clenched teeth.

"Mobilize a task force! First, we head to Raven Valley to... recover the body... at the very least... That's... the utmost respect we can show him."

Head Maid Katirana rushed out sweating. It had been ages since Raeg raised his voice like this after assuming the family head position.

Without looking back, Raeg strode down the hallway. He seemed to have no room for anything else.

The same went for Diela.

"..."

At some point, Diela simply stared silently at the weeping Pellin.

Given her usual fiery temperament, one might expect her to erupt in rage more than anyone.

But anger pushed to its limit resembles icy cold more than fiery heat. Her typical outbursts—shouting or scowling—were entirely absent here.

She merely stood up and spoke in a low voice.

"Damon."

"..."

"Damon of Gremfort Palace. That's what you said."

She uttered the name as if inscribing it on an internal death list.

A girl who knew to temporarily set aside grief and sorrow. Though she seemed to live led by emotions, she'd thoroughly learned to compartmentalize them when it mattered most.

That gap made her all the more terrifying.

Diela Catherine Duplein lacked the nobility typical of aristocrats. If truly enraged, no one could predict what she might do.

Gritting her teeth, Diela stormed down the mansion hallway.

'Huh... The mood's a bit different from what I expected...'

Pellin kept crying profusely, immersed in her role. But she had no intention of stopping halfway.

With Aiselin still present, she needed to escalate further. Discarding all dignity, Pellin amplified her emotional performance.

"Damn it.... Damn it...!!! I can't... I can't forgive myself for this..."

- Crack

Aiselin's fist clenched quietly as she sat with bowed head.

Noticing this, Pellin lowered her head further and intensified her act.

Aiselin Eleanor Duplein.

A noble lady who exuded the most dignified grace, considered a model for all aristocratic daughters. Unshaken even in mud, facing every trial with proud eyes fixed forward.

Let's see how you look when tasting true despair.

Pellin's malicious curiosity surfaced. Even these proud nobles would naturally weep and make spectacles of themselves upon sudden tragic news.

And such justified opportunities to witness noble disgrace were rare.

"Derek...! Damn it..! Derek..!! Because of me...! Because of me...!!!!!"

Pellin howled like a wild wolf... beginning full-blown dramatic sobbing.

Just as she prepared to dive deeper into emotional theatrics while monitoring Aiselin...

"Um... Miss Pellin..."

"...?"

"N-no one else is listening now... so... you can stop... if you want..."

"........."

Aiselin spoke hesitantly, cheeks flushed as if embarrassed.

Her clenched fists on her lap seemed to be pinching her own thighs to endure secondhand embarrassment. No matter how you sliced it, Pellin's solo crying performance was pure cringe.

"......Y-you knew...?"

"W-well... Derek gave me a heads-up before leaving..."

"...B-but you looked genuinely shocked when you first heard the news."

"I-I had to act too... The head butler was watching..."

"..."

Pellin wiped her tears and sniffled before sitting properly on the sofa.

An awkward silence followed. Turning away to compose her flushed face changed nothing.

In this indescribable situation, Aiselin felt pressured to say something to break the tension.

"Y-your acting... is really good...!!! Amazing...!!"

"..."

Naturally, the mood didn't lighten. In such cases, consideration only hurt more.

The shame belonged entirely to Pellin now.

'News has arrived from Raven Valley.'

Gremfort Palace's state council chamber.

As Damon sat alone at the head, a retainer approached to whisper in his ear.

A report about the battle in Raven Valley—midway between Ravenclaw Academy and Gremfort Palace.

Listening quietly, Damon's expression darkened further.

- Creak

Just as the retainer finished reporting, a familiar figure slowly entered the council chamber.

"Already sitting there with the face of an emperor, I see."

The lord of northern Rocheste Territory, the strongest combat mage alive.

Melberot had come to confront Damon alone.