Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 128: The Subjugation of Beltus (2)

The first to notice the anomaly was Orel, the leader of the mercenary group stationed in the western tower of the Duchy of Beltus.

He was a veteran who had been through all kinds of battles while serving the ducal family for a long time. It wasn’t enough to just be strong and have a fierce personality to hold such a position.

To maintain a key post within the imperial guard, one needed both a fiery spirit and an icy rationality.

His rough muscles, one-eyed face, square jaw, and the huge sword on his back—every feature declared the presence of a formidable man.

Although he had left the imperial family and become the leader of a large mercenary corps, he still maintained the same meticulous battle readiness he’d had while serving the empire.

“…Something feels off in the main building.”

Orel frowned as he drank beer with his strategist in the command room of the garrison.

“…Ah?”

“I hear the servants screaming.”

“…I could never match your hearing, Commander.”

He was in charge of the Duchy of Beltus’s security.

The reason the Duke of Beltus, with his small number of private soldiers, could still hold his head high before the three great noble families was because he had General Orel under his command.

If someone asked why a wise and experienced man like Orel worked under a greedy man like the Duke of Beltus, the answer was simple: money.

The amount of gold coins Orel’s mercenary corps received annually from the Duchy of Beltus for maintaining security was enough to buy a small border town with ease.

And the virtue of a mercenary is to work exactly for what he’s paid.

There were few mercenaries in the southwestern continent, including Ebelstein, as renowned as Orel. Leading such a large mercenary corps was only possible thanks to his exceptional abilities.

That was why some ambitious mercenaries harbored the desire to challenge Orel, but finding him wasn’t easy, since he rarely left the Beltus territory.

Orel adjusted the greatsword on his back, checked the two longswords at his waist, the dagger on his thigh, and the various supplies on his belt, then stood up.

He pulled back the canvas covering of the garrison completely and looked toward the main building of the Duchy of Beltus.

There, terrified servants were running out of the mansion.

Orel’s brows drew together tightly. Focusing on his nose, he could smell the faint scent of blood carried by the wind.

General Orel was a man with unusually sharp hearing and smell.

He was also a man who never hesitated when it mattered.

“Reven.”

“Yes, Commander.”

“Wake everyone who’s sleeping. It’s time to work.”

*

Whooosh!

Crackle! Snap!

The main building of the Duke of Beltus—the isolation room where Denise had been confined.

The Archlich that Fina had meticulously crafted was a disaster equal to death itself. The mere fact that such a monster stood upright turned its surroundings into a frozen abyss, multiplying its forces and forming its nest wherever it stood.

When Denise regained consciousness, the walls of the isolation room were already covered with all kinds of necromantic magic and vengeful spirits, enough to make one dizzy just by breathing.

With a single movement of the Archlich’s staff, an army of corpses rose, and rotting monsters began staggering out into the mansion’s corridors.

If left unchecked, the casualties would be countless.

Fina loved such scenes of massacre. But unfortunately, Dereck did not like unnecessary victims in these covert power struggles.

Dereck had no qualms about killing, but he wasn’t a lunatic who committed senseless massacres. All he wanted was to seize the Beltus mansion and turn it into the seat of necromantic magic.

That was why Dereck had repeatedly insisted to Fina that she limit the level of monsters summoned by the Archlich’s magic.

Even so, the Beltus mansion already looked like a nest of evil deeply tainted with necromancy.

A place like that had to be purged. Creating that justification was all he needed.

Creeeak. Crack.

Screeech.

The army of corpses rising with grotesque noises would chill anyone to the bone.

Especially ordinary people who had never witnessed necromantic magic before.

Inevitable screams of panic erupted among the servants, and the mansion descended into chaos.

“—Aaah!”

“Save me! It’s a monster! A monster!”

Banshees flew over the railing of the main hall, and phantom knights clad in armor and wielding swords began occupying every room with echoing footsteps.

The aura of necromantic magic spreading across the walls quickly dimmed the light, wrapping the mansion in darkness.

Little by little, the Beltus mansion was dyed in the shadow of death. As in the labyrinths of the White Zone ruled by the Archlich, it was becoming a maze filled with vengeful spirits, corpses, and the stench of blood.

Boom!

Denise clenched her teeth as she jumped from the railing connecting the second floor to the first.

Around her, terrified servants were crying, barely managing to move their feet. If she left them there, they would undoubtedly be torn apart by the monsters.

She used the first-class combat magic “Magic Arrow” and “Ice Spear” to suppress the corpses rushing toward her.

Fortunately, the main body—the Archlich—was focused on devouring the entire mansion. Thanks to that, the monsters it summoned were not yet of a very high level.

‘If I get out now, I can survive.’

With that thought, Denise grabbed a maid frozen in fear and ran down the stairs, gritting her teeth.

She stumbled once and rolled down the steps, but the thick, luxurious carpet kept her from serious injury.

Crash!

“Ow!”

The pain was inevitable, but she pushed herself up from the floor. Other servants who had been dragged or thrown by force also began moving toward the exit, trembling.

Almost crawling along the ground, she managed to reach the lobby on the first floor.

Her intention was to get out of the mansion to alert the tower. With that in mind, she ran toward the marble staircase leading to the main gate.

“…What is this…?”

When Denise exited the main building, the entire world was already being overrun by monsters.

The fief of the Duke of Beltus—about the size of a decent rural village. To the south, the great garden that resembled an entire forest was being invaded by spirits and beasts.

In the eastern tower, mages had rushed out to cut down monsters; the same was happening in the camp of the Orel Mercenary Corps.

She couldn’t comprehend what was happening. Even Denise, who had lived her whole life among noble intrigues, had never witnessed a battlefield like this.

The Archlich’s magic, devouring the main building, seemed to spread throughout the entire territory.

In no time, the place would become a labyrinth ruled by the Lich, and the splendid Beltus mansion would become nothing more than a relic of past glory.

The necromancy of a six-star mage could turn even the mansion of a historic family into a nest of death in an instant.

Before that power of a completely different level, Denise felt as though the entire world was collapsing.

Everywhere, there was battle, and death filled every corner.

Seeing the advance of the monsters sweeping across the estate, Denise collapsed where she stood.

“Hah… hah… hah…”

From the highest point of the main building, looking out over the property from the railing near the outer gate, she took several labored breaths.

Her trembling hands clutched the railing, and her chest, covered by her frilled dress, rose and fell endlessly.

Breathe deeply. Again.

‘Calm down, calm down, calm down. Don’t panic.’

Even though everyone else was on the verge of breaking down, she tried to regain her reason somehow.

Even when goosebumps ran up her arms and her back shivered, she clenched her teeth to resist the fear.

But her heart was pounding wildly, and tears threatened to fall.

Denise removed the thought-shaped brooch from her hair and, using its sharp tip, stabbed her own thigh once.

The pain suppressed her fear, her breathing stabilized, and her rationality returned. Blood ran down her leg, but Denise didn’t even notice.

‘Think, think, don’t stop thinking. Every second counts. What do I need to consider? What do I need to decide right now?’

‘The isolation room—the monster that came out of my belongings. What exactly was it? It’s clearly a high-level demon, but why was it among my things…? It was just my usual luggage…’

Regaining control over her trembling body, she organized her thoughts.

She remembered the gifts she had received from the young woman of the Tigris territory. Everything else had been her usual belongings. But not those gifts.

A trap?

But the young woman from Tigris was just a nameless commoner. Diligent, studious, without any great magical achievements.

Although Denise, out of concern for Aiselin, had observed that girl a little.

The young Tigris girl was among Dereck’s most sincere disciples. She always sought his teachings.

The most attuned to Dereck’s will. If she acted, it was likely under his orders.

That was the only conclusion Denise could reach.

What kind of large-scale necromantic magic was this? What were Dereck’s intentions? How had this crisis, threatening to devour the Beltus family, begun?

Everything was a mystery.

But one thing was certain.

Everything was happening within Dereck’s palm.

She didn’t know how far his plans reached, but she remembered well the look he had in the office of the Ravenclaw barony.

The mansion garden.

The words he spoke when he was leaving, leaving her alone.

‘It doesn’t matter if you stab me in the back.’

What had been his intention?

Kindness? Magnanimity toward Denise?

No. She had interpreted it all wrong.

She remembered his figure walking away, unable to clearly discern his expression.

‘He was trying to use me.’

Denise’s legs gave out as she bit her lip hard.

After enduring the flood of emotions, an empty laugh escaped her lips.

‘How ridiculous…’

The story was clear. The Beltus family, feeling threatened by Dereck Lydof Ravenclaw, had tried to crush him.

They had attempted to kidnap his wife, fabricated scandals, and even considered assassinating him.

How could he show genuine kindness to someone raised in that nest?

Perhaps once, at the beginning, it had been possible.

In the dusty basement of the art warehouse, when Denise belittled herself, he denied it all, telling her she was worth more.

Although she had always lived under Beltus’s weight, he believed she had her own value.

But kindness also had limits.

How could one show compassion toward someone who threatened their territory, their family, their life?

Dereck was human, too. And Denise was a subordinate of Beltus.

In the end, when his patience ran out, it was inevitable.

‘Ridiculous my situation is ridiculous…’

Even so, Denise had worried about how to maintain a friendly relationship with Dereck.

Without considering his possible exhaustion, resentment, or betrayal, she had simply let herself be swept away by her emotions.

A childish illusion, believing herself to be the center of the world.

Writing day after day had led her to believe she was the protagonist of this story. Ridiculous.

The pain in her thigh, the scratches on her skin, the monsters, the screams, the stench—all kept advancing.

She thought about what was to come.

If this wasn’t handled properly, it would be a catastrophe. And even if it was, disaster would still be inevitable.

The Duke of Beltus would have to explain the origin of the necromancy.

Who would be the sacrifice?

If she were the duke… whom would she choose to escape from this?

The Archlich—the source of it all. Who had brought the means directly into the mansion?

Someone who had abandoned their loyalty… someone who had tried to defend a weak, rural baron.

The most suitable scapegoat.

Denise’s hands trembled as she looked at the destruction of the Beltus family.

She remembered the red-haired girl from Belmierd, branded a witch because of necromantic magic—she remembered how easily necromancy could ruin anyone’s life.

She remembered the white-haired mercenary, with fierce eyes, looking at all the paintings with his chin resting on his hand.

Everything had begun because of Beltus’s sins.

And she was a member of Beltus. The sacrificial lamb.

A trembling chest. A hollow laugh.

Sometimes, absolute despair pulled a smile from one’s face.

One way or another, her end was already decided.

To become a witch.

A witch who would bear all the curses.

*

“Even in that abyss of wicked deeds, if there exists one person who could be called a saint, it would be Lady Denise, who would face all the malice of her family and reveal everything.”

“…Indeed, is that so?”

“To discern right from wrong and act righteously in such an environment is not something just anyone can do.”

Clop, clop.

Countess Rodelia and her elite troops acted so swiftly that they were already leading their horses toward the Beltus territory before the sun was high in the sky.

There was no time for carriages, so everyone gripped the reins tightly from their mounts.

They advanced so fast that, to keep up, one practically had to cling to the horse’s neck.

Whoosh!

From his saddle, galloping along the forest path, Dereck spoke firmly to Rodelia.

If there was one person still acting righteously within the rotten Beltus family, it had to be Denise.

Rodelia also listened intently to Dereck’s words as they rode toward the Beltus mansion.

And in the distance, the hill where the Beltus mansion stood began to appear on the horizon.

Even from afar, Countess Rodelia frowned. From that distance, it was already evident that the state of the territory was not normal.

A swarm of vengeful spirits was swirling over the estate.

The force with which those souls whirled made the place seem like a necromancer’s stronghold.

“…Sir Dereck. You were right.”

Countess Rodelia was someone whose hatred toward necromancers was unmatched in the world.

The heroine clenched her teeth, drew her sacred blood sword, and shouted to her soldiers.

“Faster! Necromancy is running rampant in the Beltus duchy!”

“Yes, ma’am!”

At that moment, the soldiers, filled with renewed morale, cracked their reins and pushed their speed even further.

– Huuung

Their destination was still far enough away to be seen only at the edge of the horizon.

However, even from that distance, the sound of the immense magical power erupting from the mansion grounds could be clearly heard.

The aura of that magic was so palpable that everyone, including Dereck, was momentarily left speechless.

Above the Beltus mansion, a gigantic flame surged among the spirits.

It soon took the shape of an enormous armored warrior, raising a massive flaming sword in its hands.

The size was indescribable.

A giant of fire so colossal that it could be clearly seen even from that distance. A summoning spell of absurd scale, several times larger than the mansion itself.

It was, at the very least, a level 4-star summoning magic.

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