Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 93

Even as a frontier baron, at best he was a low-ranking noble overseeing a couple of villages.

Especially in a backwater like the Rodellen region, a baron in such a remote area would only collect meager taxes and command a few dozen troops at most... Among nobles, they were often regarded as little more than glorified commoners.

Indeed, the shabby frontier barons Lady Trisha had seen usually sported unkempt beards and wore grimy leather armor.

Most would roll up their sleeves to personally oversee village affairs or hunt magical beasts... the majority were hands-on types brimming with field experience.

Such low-ranking nobles typically resided in refurbished old mansions. It was unnatural for the young lady of the Duchy of Rochest to be visiting such a place.

The Rochester family was among the most prestigious noble houses.

"I apologize for last time. My gaze was rather sharp, wasn't it?"

Forced to share a table with Lady Siern, Trisha already wanted to go home.

However, Siern welcomed her with unexpected ladylike grace.

"Sometimes I struggle to control my aggression and act improperly. I hope Lady Trisha will be magnanimous."

Siern's snow-white hair was rarely properly arranged.

She constantly darted about using acceleration magic. When violent urges surfaced, she'd indiscriminately slaughter nearby beasts.

Despite this explosive nature, her appearance was mystically pure—few could match her divine aura.

Witnessing this contrast made one swallow dryly. Trisha was no exception.

'She doesn't seem naturally like this... Someone must have rigorously trained her in etiquette...'

Siern was clearly younger than Trisha.

As someone more experienced in high society, older, and more refined, Trisha couldn't afford to be intimidated. In noble social battles, the first to flinch loses.

To secure influence in Rosea Salon, she couldn't back down from Siern either.

As Trisha steeled herself to seize conversational control—

"By the way, what brings Lady Trisha to Ravenclaw Barony?"

"Eh...?"

"Derek is quite busy now. He reserves mornings for my magic training, and the constant visits from other noble ladies leave him little time for his own studies."

Trisha had come to assess this Derek fellow, intending to make a request if he seemed suitable.

Siern frowned disapprovingly.

"If more vixens—I mean, noble ladies—start clinging to him for magic lessons, he'll be even busier."

"..."

"If you came seeking Derek's magic instruction, you're unlikely to receive a positive answer."

Siern smiled sweetly.

Though appearing harmless, Trisha knew this girl was a beast ready to tear out throats without hesitation.

Sitting before this monster who could corner people with sheer bloodlust made one instinctively check if their neck was still intact.

Surely even she wouldn't commit murder in Ravenclaw Barony's reception room—though one could never be certain.

The slaughter demon's bloodlust recognized no time or place.

"Perhaps you should leave now?"

Though smiling, her words dripped with hostility.

Siern disliked the idea of Derek gaining more students.

The message was clear.

Yet sending the Renuel family's lady home without even meeting the baron would be excessively rude.

Leaving now would wound her pride.

Worse—being cowed by Lady Rochester would mean surrendering Rosea Salon's influence.

As Trisha hesitated—

- Creak

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Lady Siern."

Derek entered through the worn reception room door, followed by a familiar face—Lady Elente, inexplicably dressed in commoner's blouse.

"Oh? Lady Trisha?"

Brushing back her red hair, Elente gaped at Trisha.

She clearly hadn't expected to meet here.

For Trisha, who'd found Siern's company unbearable, Elente's arrival felt like salvation.

Baron Derek Raidof Ravenclaw matched Trisha's expectations—no noble authority emanated from him.

Young, tall, and slightly built for a man.

Snow-white hair, crimson eyes, simple cloth tunic with a plain cloak.

Passersby would never guess his noble status.

His appearance completely lacked aristocratic pretension.

Yet even for casual appearances, this was excessive.

"Derek... brush my hair."

"Been in the forest?"

"It's different from snowfields—the woods smell so alive. I kept running around excitedly."

Even for the mansion's owner... While Siernon boldly requesting hair-brushing was one thing...

Derek casually running a brush through her white locks was equally bizarre.

"..."

Trisha was speechless.

She couldn't adjust to such informality. The usual hierarchy was absent.

Ranking the four present by authority was indisputable:

Foremost was undoubtedly Lady Elente of House Belmiere.

As legitimate heir to the Belmiere County encompassing Velkos Peninsula's southern coast, half the trade routes to Evelstein passed through her domain, which housed the Southwest Continent's largest magic academy—the Drest Magic Academy.

Effectively a young countess in status.

Beloved by Lord Melberot, this young magic prodigy commanded respect surpassing all northern noble ladies.

Even Evelstein's most formidable highborn ladies tread carefully around her.

Then came newly ennobled Derek or rising House Renuel's Lady Trisha. Though awkward as strangers, they seemed more at ease than the others.

With such hierarchy, tension was inevitable.

Yet Elente in casual wear and Siern happily sniffing as Derek brushed her hair acted as if in their own bedrooms.

"Apologies for the informal atmosphere."

"N-no... It's fine... Is it always like this...?"

"..."

Trisha's awkward question made Derek's expression subtly complex.

He too recognized the unnaturalness.

Trisha had intended to humiliate this nominal baron.

A title-only noble without backing—just a frontier figurehead playing patriarch.

Surely he couldn't hold his head high before the soon-to-be Countess Renuel.

But seeing him flanked by Elente and Siern stifled her words.

What if offending Derek provoked retaliation from them?

Yet Trisha was stubborn.

Clearing her throat, she lifted her chin arrogantly.

"For a nominal noble, you maintain the mansion well."

"You flatter me."

"..."

Despite her rudeness, Derek showed no emotional reaction.

His demeanor suggested he'd dealt with far worse from arrogant noble girls.

Compared to Diela or Siern at their peaks, Trisha's haughtiness was almost cute.

Had she known his journey, she'd realize how insignificant her posturing was.

'It's like... punching a stone wall... pointless...'

Derek indeed had an immovable quality.

"Anyway, I didn't come all this way without reason."

"To learn magic?"

At this, Siern's eyes flashed dangerously behind Derek.

Though he couldn't see while brushing her hair, Trisha faced the full glare.

Siern seemed to whisper something—its meaning unclear but undoubtedly threatening.

Trisha paled, swallowing hard.

Siern clearly harbored possessive feelings about Derek as her magic tutor.

While unable to challenge those who became his students earlier, she fiercely guarded against new interlopers.

For survival, Trisha shook her head vehemently.

"No! Absolutely not! Why would I come here for magic lessons?!"

"...Is that so?"

Derek accepted this casually.

Siern's expression instantly softened, happily nuzzling against his brushing hand.

'What... what is this...?'

Trisha's legs trembled as she continued.

"I didn't come as Lady Renuel, nor to request magic lessons."

"...Then why are you here?"

"...As a client."

Finally, Trisha stated her purpose.

Countess Rodea of House Renuel had earned imperial praise for a great achievement—eliminating three necromancers on Rodentz Island.

This westernmost island, isolated by whirlpools and currents, served as a stronghold for forbidden necromancers.

After half a year of bloody battles, Rodea purged the island's three ruling necromancers.

Effectively eradicating western evil forces in one stroke.

The cost was high—her right eye's sight and partial arm mobility.

Having sacrificed her battlefield magic career, Emperor Gertrel had no choice but to honor her.

Resulting in House Renuel's upcoming promotion to border count, governing the northwestern frontier with quadrupled territory.

A rising star among nobility.

"During the island purge, Mother discovered numerous necromantic research documents."

"..."

Derek was relieved the Duplein sisters weren't present.

Their family trauma from a single necromantic artifact remained raw. Discussing necromancy would reopen wounds.

"As the Empire's loyal sword, she burned most. Except certain documents."

"...Some survived?"

"Yes. While necromantic materials deserved destruction, some were kept as evidence. Their contents were shocking."

Trisha folded her arms, gauging reactions.

Siern remained indifferent to Derek's brushing, while Elente listened intently.

Though unsure about third parties hearing this, Countess Rodea apparently deemed disclosure acceptable.

Once the mission began, word would spread anyway.

"Rodentz Island's necromancers didn't develop their magic independently. They worshipped mysterious texts from the continent's opposite side, learning from them."

"What? Those necromancers were the most dangerous of taboo-breakers..."

Elente stiffened.

The island's leaders included two 4-Star and one 5-Star mages.

High-ranking mages rare even among nobility, wielding necromancy... Their defeat couldn't have been easy.

That someone could teach them was unthinkable.

If such a person existed...

"─Mother concluded a 6-Star necromancer might exist somewhere on the continent."

Derek frowned. Beside him, Elente's eyes widened.

The existence of a 6-Star necromancer was a top-secret known only to central nobility's elite.

Most southwestern powerholders and even royals were unaware. Among those Derek knew, only Lord Melberot was informed.

But Countess Rodea had apparently caught the scent during her purge.

Now she sought its source.

"Intel suggests low-ranking necromancers fled to Evelstein. Capturing and interrogating them might reveal clues about the 6-Star."

"Hence your visit."

"Exactly. We need someone familiar with Evelstein's geography and society—able to navigate noble districts and slums seamlessly, experienced against necromancy, magically skilled, discreet, and reliable. Few meet all criteria."

Trisha placed a document and large coin pouch on the table.

"Advance payment."

"Ropellon gold coins from the county. You brought these personally?"

"Enough to build another mansion like this. Even with a nominal title, shouldn't nobles reside somewhere grander?"

Trisha smiled bewitchingly.

If the advance was this substantial, the final reward would be unimaginable.

"Find the necromancers hiding in Evelstein. They'll have brought necromantic texts from Rodentz Island. Locate them, interrogate them, and uncover information about the 6-Star... and I'll double this payment."

"I regret to decline."

"That's the spirit~ Just send word when... wait, what?"

Derek flipped the document onto the desk.

His expression turned grave.

"This mission's importance exceeds my capabilities. I recommend hiring a proper mercenary company."

"Necromancy can't be handled through official channels..."

"Regardless, it's beyond me."

Derek was firm.

Trisha gaped—she hadn't expected refusal of such lucrative work.

"You should leave now."

But Derek knew.

In the southeastern granary region.

Phee Rafaela Tigris, youngest daughter of Baron Tigris.

"..."

Called the Witch of Tigris.

The continent's sole 6-Star necromancer was not to be trifled with.

Even Derek, who'd fearlessly subdued Siern—a descendant of Noir—wouldn't provoke Phee unnecessarily.

As those in the know understood:

─Among 6-Star mages, not a single one is sane.

And Phee stood uniquely even among them.

Avoiding entanglement was wisest.

"Lady Trisha, unless absolutely certain, you too should withdraw. This mission is too dangerous as leverage for entering Evelstein's nobility."

Facing Derek's resolute gaze, Trisha swallowed dryly.

Though young, his eyes held the seasoned depth of veteran nobles.

While feigning disinterest, he'd been assessing Trisha's character.

Part of her motive for hiring Derek was his fame as Evelstein's magic tutor—to establish connections.

He'd seen through this too.

He wasn't some pawn to be moved at will with gold.

Though bearing a hollow title and wearing undistinguished clothes... there were reasons even influential noble ladies treated him carefully.