Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 85

Dear Master,

I hope this letter finds you in good health.

Much time has passed since late winter arrived. As the cold gradually lifts, I imagine the eastern continent is already preparing to welcome spring.

Having spent considerable time with the Rochester family in the north, I'll likely return to Evelstain soon.

I feel I've grown somewhat as a magic instructor, but my mercenary instincts seem dulled—a concern. I should find more field work to maintain my edge when time allows.

There's a reason I've taken up my quill to write this letter.

...I'm getting married.

But... I have no partner.

.

At the lavish estate of Count Elvester—the social epicenter of the eastern continent's nobility—an elderly woman reading her longtime apprentice's letter shuddered mid-sentence.

She'd barely begun yet already sensed something amiss.

This apprentice rarely initiated contact unless for urgent matters. That he'd written first suggested something extraordinary, and the opening lines left her utterly dumbfounded.

Setting the letter aside, she massaged her temples and gazed skyward.

Years had passed since parting with that compact apprentice in Evelstain...

She couldn't begin to imagine what dramatic life her sole disciple had been living.

To receive a noble title, one needed an affiliated house.

An obvious requirement in this era, yet Derek—an orphan from the slums—hadn't considered it until now.

Watching carriages prepare for his return to Evelstain, Derek scratched his head and slumped by the main hall's fireplace.

Before Lady Sieren's formal debut in high society, they'd survey Evelstain's atmosphere. This trip would also let Derek and Aiselin revisit their hometown after long absence.

Escaping these desolate snowfields for Evelstain's cuisine was joyous indeed. Aiselin, clutching the hefty sum Lord Melberot provided, seemed equally pleased.

Yet Derek couldn't help but agonize.

'I have three options.'

Be adopted into an existing house, establish a new house with a trustworthy partner, or abandon the title pursuit.

The last was untenable—reaching 4-Star mastery required noble status.

Thus only two paths remained.

"Mr. Derek... You seem troubled..."

Aiselin timidly settled opposite the fireplace.

Having completed Sieren's lessons, she appeared to be preparing for her own return to Evelstain.

Though excited to reunite with familiar faces at Duplein Manor, Aiselin studied Derek's expression with growing tension instead.

Derek faced a life-altering decision.

"...Yes. I never imagined facing this marital dilemma so abruptly."

"T-title bestowal is quite stringent, isn't it? Beyond house affiliation, they assess magic skill, character, merits, trustworthiness..."

"My magic needs no improvement, and Lord Melberot will vouch for other qualities..."

Derek swept back his bangs with a heavy sigh.

The partner requirement was an unforeseen complication. Briefly considering grabbing some random woman for marriage, he quickly realized such matters weren't so easily resolved.

"W-why not join an existing house as an adopted son? What noble would refuse a baron candidate?"

"That requires parental figures officially recognizing me. Hardly simple with strangers granting such authority."

Derek aspired beyond barony to greater magical heights.

As his prestige grew, so would his"parents'"influence—an unpredictable variable he wished to avoid.

"Mr. Derek..."

"Yes?"

"E-even so... marriage is a woman's lifelong commitment... Who would readily cooperate like that?"

"True. I can't confidently promise lifelong responsibility either..."

The era's norms mattered.

Divorcees and widows faced discrimination everywhere.

Accepting Derek's proposal might doom a woman to lifelong wandering. Few would sacrifice so much for him.

"S-so perhaps... consider solutions beyond finding a partner?"

Aiselin's oddly leading tone made Derek sweat.

Having subtly noticed Aiselin's affection, her peculiar reaction unsettled him.

Regardless, wedding Duplein's prized flower was impossible.

Noblewomen above baronial rank would reject marrying beneath their station. What would compel them to defy their houses for such a match?

A trustworthy woman who wouldn't renege, uninterested in noble prestige, willingly cooperating with Derek while accepting modest compensation.

Reviewing everyone he'd met, such individuals were scarce.

Yet... not entirely absent.

Someone with no romantic expectations who could publicly pose as his partner, accepting reasonable compensation.

"....There's... one person..."

"Wha...?!?!"

Aiselin gaped at Derek.

Unbeknownst to him, news of his engagement would send shockwaves through Rosea Salon.

Even as a mere formality for title acquisition, the chosen partner would draw intense scrutiny.

- Thud!

Like a king's return, Derek's legend had grown in Velderun Mercenary Group's lore.

Even during his mercenary days, Derek's reliability was renowned.

No employer refused him; on his absent days, others received assignments, ensuring constant work.

Thus Jayden's"Beldern's Tear"tavern thrived with clients and patrons, bustling without respite.

Though missing an arm from White Wilderness labyrinth exploration, the proprietor's cheerful demeanor never faded.

Focusing more on tavern and mercenary management, the establishment flourished vibrantly.

When Derek finally entered after months away, celebration was inevitable.

"Oh, Derek...!"

Jayden, counting coins behind the counter, beamed at the boy like a returning son.

"Hello, Jayden."

"Heard you've been rolling in northern snow. Back in Evelstain? Good to see you. Tavern Street's unchanged. Drink?"

As Jayden rose warmly, his expression froze.

Derek had brought quite an entourage—well-dressed servants lined outside.

Two figures followed him inside—girls clutching his sleeves.

Sieren Aleina Rocheste of the northern duchy peered about nervously.

Beside her stood Aiselin Eleanor Duplein, clinging close.

Two noble ladies in a mercenary tavern was unprecedented.

Even Jayden—who'd smiled through losing an arm—looked stunned.

"This is Lady Aiselin of House Duplein, and Lady Sieren from the north."

"...Teaching in the north, then casually bringing nobility here?"

Jayden bowed respectfully.

"I'm Jayden."

"L-long time no see. You haven't changed."

"Lady Aiselin looks well. Heard about your family's troubles. My condolences."

As Aiselin exchanged pleasantries, Sieren hid behind Derek, overwhelmed.

The raucous tavern fell silent—patrons nervously swallowing at this surreal scene.

Derek scanned the room, spotting a drunken girl slumped at the bar.

Her neatly tied hair and large bow identified her—Pellin, his longtime comrade.

Derek shook her awake.

"Nngh... When'd I fall asleep...?"

"Pellin. Wake up."

"Huh? Derek? Back in Evelstain?"

Still groggy, her flushed face broke into a drunken grin.

Derek sat beside her.

"Pellin... Don't misunderstand."

"What? Showing up outta nowhere—"

"Marry me."

"..."

Her hiccup froze mid-breath as color drained from her face.

"You... learned bad jokes up north."

"I'm serious. Please marry me."

"...You eat something weird?"

Pellin's horrified reaction heartened Derek.

Though longtime comrades, she'd never seen him romantically—more like family. This proposal naturally appalled her.

She disdained nobility beyond indifference—actively disillusioned.

Long trust meant he could compensate her appropriately. As an orphan herself, complications were minimal.

Where else would he find such perfection?

"..."

Sobering rapidly, Pellin surveyed the scene.

Two extravagantly dressed noblewomen in a tavern. Even Jayden looked stunned—a veteran who'd smiled through amputation.

Returning with two highborn ladies, then proposing to a third—a mere mercenary—defied comprehension.

The noblewomen themselves seemed awkward rather than angry—deepening the bizarre atmosphere.

Whatever happened up north had transformed this once-simple mage into... this.

Jayden finally managed words:

"Derek... You've... grown ambitious as a man..."

"..."

Derek realized his misunderstanding.

Time to retreat from prying eyes.