Noble Lady Reformation Guide - Chapter 76: People (3)

Siern was hugging her knees, her head buried in a corner of the central tower of the Rochester mansion.

While she had been out, the sheets on the soft bed had been changed for clean ones. Even in such a frightening situation, the servants of the Rochester family continued to fulfill their duties to the end.

Feeling that uprightness, Siern remained still, head down, not moving an inch.

In the silence, the only sound in Siern’s room was the tinkling of the windowpanes, shaken by the storm outside.

The desolate scene stood in stark contrast to places like the Duplain mansion, located in the midst of a fertile prairie. This girl had always grown up in such a bleak environment.

And so, she remembered her earliest memory.

At an age when she couldn’t even read, she killed an entire pack of wolves in the snowy northern fields.

Even at preschool age, she had already reached a level where she could kill beasts using only her immature magical senses.

Covered in blood in the snowfield, when she suddenly came to, the whole world was drenched in the smell of blood.

A cold body that didn’t even feel the cold. When she saw the half-dead wolf sobbing, her father, Melverot, came running and grabbed her wrist.

Thus, the girl was dragged by Melverot’s strength and walked again through the snowy field. They did nothing but march straight back to the Rochester mansion.

Knock, knock.

Melverot’s back, which the girl watched from below, was steady. His expression wasn’t visible.

The back of her father, simply dragging her forward, was the earliest image Siern could recall.

*

“What a bold request you make. You should know better than anyone that titles in this era are not something easily traded.”

“Yes. No one is unaware of that.”

“You know well how many years it took your master, Drest, to receive a barony without even owning land, don’t you?”

“Yes, but Master Drest’s situation was quite different.”

Dereck continued speaking without changing his expression. It seemed all his tension and anxiety had transferred to Aiselin, who stood behind him.

Indeed, Aiselin looked quite flustered, as if she hadn’t expected Dereck to say something like that.

“My master Drest didn’t get along with the nobility. I, on the other hand, maintain ties with several prestigious families, and my magical abilities are not lacking.”

“It seems you’re not aware how closed-off the high nobility in the capital is.”

“I’m very aware. That’s why I ask for your help, Lord Melverot.”

No one would deny this is the age of nobility.

And magic was no less than a symbol of that privilege. Their survival strategy was to preserve pure bloodlines, protect acquired interests, and kick away the ladder from the undeserving.

To grab their ankles, one needs proper backing.

If Dereck managed to secure the support of Duplain, Beltus, Belmierd, and even Melverot, then the idea of him receiving a title wouldn’t be so far-fetched.

Even a minor title, the lowest one, would suffice. Once he broke into that world, climbing within it would depend solely on Dereck’s abilities.

Melverot, who quickly grasped Dereck’s intentions, let out a dry chuckle.

Ambition must be proportional to capability, but if it’s too inflated, it only brings ruin.

If the capital’s high nobility heard this, they wouldn’t hesitate to chastise him for such blasphemous words.

However, Melverot, resting his chin on his hand, merely gave him a cold look.

“I can’t promise you a title. Beyond my will, granting a significant title to a plebeian from the slums would be seen as disgraceful by the elders of the capital. And let’s not even mention His Majesty, the Emperor.”

Melverot’s magical power was legendary, but not everything in this world could be achieved by force.

Especially in the world of noble culture, where justification and tradition were deeply rooted.

Still, Melverot didn’t adopt an entirely negative stance.

“But I can support you.”

“…”

“In political judgment and magical skill, you far surpass those with fine blood but nothing else. Yes. As long as there’s a justification, it’s not impossible to secure a position. So I promise this.”

Melverot spoke in a resolute tone.

“If your proposal for a title is taken seriously, I will write a letter of recommendation with the utmost courtesy. A letter written directly by Melverot of the North would be a powerful weapon.”

“…”

“Do you want to strike down the arrogant nobles of the capital? Or become a figure who dominates this era?”

“I have no such thoughts.”

Those who had long endured poverty often harbored resentment toward the nobles, even if they concealed it.

It was natural to curse the country and the era when suffering in misery.

But Dereck held no such petty thoughts.

“I just want to become a higher-level mage. The title is merely a means to that end.”

He was a man of notable consistency.

Melverot had lived like a monarch for many years. He had his own way of evaluating talent.

To accomplish great things, one needed to know the present reality and the times, but overly enthusiastic types often failed to fulfill their duties because they got too distracted by such matters.

A swordsman must excel with the sword, a mage must elevate their magic, a chancellor must master economics, and a servant must know how to manage the house.

The situation, the times, ambition, aspirations, broad vision, sociability, study of governance, support—those things often came naturally once the core qualities were in place.

True talent needs no elaborate introduction.

Dereck.

He was a mage.

“I see… Now I understand why you came to negotiate.”

“Thank you for considering it positively. Then, I’ll return to my duties.”

“Is that all you’re going to ask?”

As Dereck was about to leave after saying his goodbye, Melverot called him again.

Turning silently, Dereck looked at him. Melverot let out another chuckle, still resting his chin on his hand.

“You’re not asking the most important thing. Aren’t you curious why I have monsters in the main hall of the mansion?”

“I don’t meddle in things unrelated to my work. However, if you believe it would be useful for me to know, I don’t mind hearing it.”

“I see. That may be your stance, but it seems the young lady from House Duplain thinks otherwise.”

Aiselin was glancing sideways, trying to pick up the tone of the conversation.

In fact, it was strange that Dereck showed no curiosity. In a situation like this, anyone would want to know Melverot’s true intentions.

When Dereck remained silent for a few seconds, Melverot let out a hollow laugh and said:

“This may be a belated revelation, but Siern is not my blood daughter. She is the legacy left by an old friend of mine.”

Aiselin was already swallowing hard, shocked, but Dereck had partly suspected it.

Just from having fought her once, he’d noticed that her way of handling magic was completely different from Melverot’s.

“Though countless years have passed since that blood-soaked war ended, it still feels as vivid as if it were yesterday. That damned great demon, Noir, who killed my old friend Kalimford… and I fought the final battle in the Grand Snowfield of Rosenhaven.”

“…”

“The insane magic that demon wielded was far beyond human reach. If you observe the scars still visible in the Rosenhaven snowfield, you’ll see that it unleashed such massive magic that the maps had to be redrawn countless times.”

Aiselin’s expression gradually hardened. It seemed she had no idea what Melverot was about to say.

“Yes… the realm forbidden to humans… the 7-star level mentioned in the records of the great mage Adelbert… If it truly exists, it must resemble that.”

Melverot slowly stood up.

The “Dawn War,” recorded as the most horrific demon war in the continent’s history.

It was Melverot, the historical figure who ended it, who was now speaking directly.

“I’ll tell you a shocking fact. Not even the high nobles of the imperial capital, nor Emperor Gatrell himself, know this.”

Why was he telling them? It was to make clear that they were already in the same boat, with no way off.

“Noir… I couldn’t kill him.”

*

The great demon Noir is a monster that parasitizes humans.

In the form of a fist-sized spirit, it infiltrates directly into a person’s soul, awakens demonic instincts, and furthermore, grants magical talents far beyond human capabilities.

When its core power fully blossoms, it begins using magic that truly surpasses human levels, and in the end, it transforms into a colossal demon visible even from the horizon.

When Melverot struck the final blow to Noir… the monster became a spirit and possessed the body of Kalimford’s late wife, Feria.

Feria, a renowned priestess, had joined the subjugation squad to help avenge her husband Kalimford.

*

Tap, tap.

Aiselin and Dereck, who had left the office, walked down the corridor.

They descended the spiral staircase of the tower, crossed the frozen garden, and returned to the annex without exchanging a single word.

Both were ruminating on Melverot’s words.

“Back then, Feria, who was already pregnant, asked to wait until she gave birth to Kalimford’s daughter. As a high-ranking priestess, she could somehow resist Noir’s influence.”

“So… she gave birth to Lady Siern?”

“Yes… Then she entrusted her to me and left, apologizing. When I later heard about her… it was not pleasant news.”

Melverot hadn’t bothered explaining Feria’s fate. It wasn’t hard to imagine what kind of end the mother of Lady Siern met. She likely wished to end it all herself.

In the end, only Siern remained.

A daughter with no blood ties, no connections. In fact, for someone of Melverot’s level, taking care of a child without kin posed no burden.

He had immense wealth, glory, status, and power. Even if he couldn’t give her love, he could provide an environment no one would envy.

However, Siern was not an ordinary girl.

Before learning to read, she tore apart a pack of wolves. By the time she was old enough to understand, she had already killed servants, and before her coming-of-age ceremony, she had begun handling three-star magic.

Melverot must have felt it.

The murderous impulse and desire for slaughter engraved in her blood were not human emotions.

It was clear she had inherited them from the mythical demon Noir of the “Dawn War,” who had killed countless humans.

If he had realized it, he should have killed her then and there.

He should have slain that small girl standing amidst the mangled corpses of wolves in the snowy field.

“Why are you protecting Siern?”

But Melverot didn’t. His choice was completely different.

Instead, he assigned her various tutors and tried to integrate her into human society somehow. He is the legendary hero who saved the North. He also was the one who witnessed Noir’s great massacre up close.

Why would someone with such a history not make the right decision? Was it out of compassion, because she was the daughter of his old friend Kalimford? Was it in honor of the late priestess Feria?

Or did he simply think it was wrong to kill an innocent life from a humanitarian standpoint?

None of those were true. None came close to the correct answer.

“There are no six-star mages who are sane.”

It was Melverot himself who had said that.

“Wasn’t it clearly written in Adelbert’s memoirs? That there is a limit to what a human can reach.”

“Then, if someone wants to reach the realm of seven stars, what’s the first thing they must abandon?”

Mages are those who, even if just a little, seek to reach a higher level.

No matter how enormous the wall imposed on them, their symbol is the almost deranged curiosity that drives them to climb it.

“Humanity.”

He was glimpsing a fragment of seven-star magic in Siern.

Whiiing.

Before entering the annex, Dereck and Aiselin looked up toward the central tower in the distance.

The tower, visible from anywhere in the Rochester mansion, stood firm that day too, beneath the blizzard.

Inside, Siern was surely watching the blizzard in silence, with her elegant hair falling and wearing a nightgown.

“Sir Dereck.”

Finally, Aiselin spoke.

Amid the icy cold, Aiselin hesitated, thought about what to say, and finally spoke with difficulty.

“I… my thoughts are a mess.”

“Don’t dwell on it. The tasks we have haven’t changed. However…”

Dereck frowned as he looked toward the tower.

“That war hero… it seems he’s still hiding something.”

“What?”

Aiselin asked with a bewildered expression.

“After telling us all that… you still think he’s hiding something?”

“He’s lived as a ruler of that level for countless years. We can’t underestimate him.”

Dereck never let his guard down.

Melverot seemed to have laid everything bare, but something was still hidden. His intuition told him that clearly.

“It’s cold. Let’s go inside.”

Whatever the situation, the promised reward was still fair, and their assigned tasks hadn’t changed.

Dereck was a magic tutor. A teacher’s job is to teach their students.

And that essence had not changed in the slightest.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelCet