Noble Lady Reformation Guide

The news that Countess Freya brought to Gremport Palace was, quite literally, a bolt from the blue.

The funeral of Emperor Gattrel had barely concluded, and just as discussions about the enthronement of the next emperor were underway, the imperial palace plunged headlong into chaos.

“Yes… This is no time to be disputing interests such as those of the Advel territory or the White Zone. Territorial division can wait. Now we must think about how to respond to what is happening in the east. Even the enthronement ceremony… it will have to be postponed.”

In Gremport Palace, within the State Affairs Conference Chamber located deep inside the Palace of Wisdom, Princess Roselin sat in the central seat and ran a hand across her face in a gesture of evident fatigue.

The meeting table, crafted from refined marble with golden decorations, formed a great circle.

At opposite ends sat two figures—President Damon, revered almost like a king by the bureaucrats of the empire’s noble faction, and Kohella, the 6-star transformation mage, leader of the magical faction and of the imperial scholars.

The heads of the three forces that, in practice, divided power within Gremport Palace had reached a tacit agreement to suspend all disputes of interest.

A necromancer of unknown identity was completely devouring the heart of the eastern continent.

Even at that very moment, the number of victims was likely increasing.

“The County of Elvester has already been completely taken. Cities within the Ricador territory, Trion, and even the most remote villages are being attacked one after another. Those who fall to necromantic magic rise again as corpses and swear loyalty to their queen.”

Princess Roselin had read each and every report sent by her confidants, without omitting a single word.

Judging by the documents alone, that calamity-level mage far exceeded the 5-star level and appeared to be approaching the 6-star level.

A 6-star necromancer.

At those words, Kohella’s eyes shone more intensely.

To reach the dominion of the seventh level, the power of 6-star mages was required.

Kohella knew this well, and that was why she worked day and night to recruit even one more.

“Has the situation of the Frontier Count of Elvester been confirmed?”

Damon asked.

The Frontier Count of Elvester was a respected figure in both the magical and noble factions.

His survival or death could completely alter the political balance of the eastern continent.

Princess Roselin gave a slight nod and then slowly closed her eyes.

A heavy silence once again settled over the chamber.

The Frontier Count of Elvester was one of the most renowned warriors of the east and a mage of immense prestige.

That he had fallen to a necromancer meant only one thing—he was now moving as yet another corpse under the queen’s command.

The power to turn those one kills into subordinates.

That was the primary reason high-level necromancers were feared.

To profane even death itself was a force no one could accept lightly.

“We must deploy the Imperial Guard directly. I myself, Kohella, will head to the front. And all magical advisors under my command will be mobilized without exception.”

For Kohella, leader of the imperial magical faction and a 6-star transformation mage, to move personally was a decision of enormous weight.

Even so, there were too many variables.

To attack blindly a hidden mage whose true strength was still unknown could be disastrous.

She was a creature who turned the dead into her troops.

If a powerful combatant went and was defeated, it would only strengthen the enemy.

Roselin fell into deep thought.

The situation was urgent, but acting without preparation could worsen it.

Perhaps the correct course was to gather forces carefully and collect more information about the enemy.

It was at that precise moment—

Creak—

Deep within Gremport Palace, in that chamber where only the highest nobles could set foot, someone opened the door and entered.

A man with a gaze cold as winter, shaking back his freely falling silver hair.

The light armor he wore, impeccably fitted, did not suit at all his innately noble bearing.

The lord of the Duchy of Rochester, Melverot, strode into the chamber with his lips firmly pressed together.

The hero who had defeated the great beast Noir, and a combatant who, in the realm of magical battle, occupied a place no one in the world could aspire to reach.

Known as the sword of the empire, though in practice he was little more than an old hero who had retired to guard the northern snows.

With his appearance, absolute silence fell.

It was as though everyone had known this moment would come.

Melverot’s existence was, in itself, the final resort of Gremport Palace.

In pure combat, not even Kohella could stand against him.

One might argue endlessly over who was the “most advanced” mage, but if asked who was the “strongest,” almost all would give the same name.

A living legend.

“She cannot be killed.”

Melverot had never been interested in the political struggles of Gremport Palace.

For someone like him, secluded in the north, to come in person meant the situation was more serious than expected.

With complete naturalness, he began to speak of Fina Raffaella Tigris.

She had cooperated in the shadows when Kalimford and Melverot defeated the great beast Noir.

Of the few who knew of her existence, Melverot was one.

In a dry voice, tinged with barely concealed arrogance, he declared,

“Kalimford and I faced her in the past. She has transcended death itself. Even 6-star mages cannot erase the seal engraved upon her soul.”

“You know her…?”

“Yes. I believed she had already died, but I did not imagine she was still alive, acting from the shadows. Even if she was alive, I did not expect her to spiral out of control to this extent. She is not someone who usually shows herself to the world so brazenly.”

Melverot had already heard from Kalimford the entire course of events.

However, to state in that place that he had known of her existence beforehand would bring him no benefit.

Thus, he handled the matter carefully and revealed only what he deemed appropriate.

“Her name changes according to the occasion. At present, it seems she is using the name Fina.”

“What does it mean that she cannot be killed?”

“It is literal. No matter how many times you kill her, she always revives and slips back into the shadows to continue acting. That is the true nature of a 6-star necromancer.”

A 6-star necromancer.

The weight of those words became palpable, and a new silence fell upon those present.

“That is why we must resolve the situation without killing her. For her, death is nothing more than an escape route.”

Even if they killed her, she would simply resurrect again.

The eternal youth she had obtained in a twisted way granted her not even rest, repeating without end.

“The only option is to strip her of her freedom. Sever her arms and legs and keep her barely alive, or erase her memories—only then.”

“I see.”

At Kalimford’s words, Kohella expressed her agreement.

From her perspective, she also had no intention of killing a 6-star mage.

Marilyn, imprisoned in the deepest dungeon as the assassin of the emperor, remained alive because she was an indispensable piece in Kohella’s plans.

Surrounding her with dozens of layers of magical barriers had only one purpose—to reach the dominion of 7 stars.

Thus, for Kohella, capturing a 6-star necromancer alive was also an unshakable policy.

‘Even in a situation like this, that sinister old woman thinks of nothing but magic.’

Roselin made a dismissive gesture with her hand and leaned back in her seat.

“I have heard that the eastern territorial militias and frontier defense forces have already begun military action on their own. I also intend to mobilize the private troops of our Duchy of Rochester.”

“If Lord Melverot moves personally, he will be more than welcome on our side. Gremport Palace can assign the Imperial Guard—how about we act together?”

“That will not be necessary. I intend to depart immediately, and if we align with the guard’s movement, we will be delayed. Both the eastern and southwestern forces will surely send suppression units—it is enough that each joins according to their own pace. There is no time to coordinate every detail.”

While adjusting his bracers, Melverot tapped the pommel of the sword at his waist and continued,

“I did not expect to step out in person.”

He gently closed his eyes and recalled the hatred-filled gaze that necromancer had directed at Kalimford.

Whatever anyone might say, she was a human who walked in the shadows.

That she had acted so extremely was likely, in the end, because of Dereck’s existence.

In any case, it had been they who resorted to her power to kill Noir.

And he himself bore part of the blame for driving her to the brink.

If this was the return of that karma, then it was his responsibility to end it.

Melverot nodded and turned toward the open door of the conference chamber.

“I will depart first. Afterward, guide the Imperial Guard and palace troops to follow us. Purging the enemy forces will take time, so the more manpower we have, the better.”

“Lord Melverot.”

Roselin, who had been seated with her arms crossed, called out to him with a grave expression.

Melverot was about to leave the chamber when he slightly turned his head to look at her.

“There are many things I would like to ask, but the situation is urgent, so I will set them aside.”

“…”

“However, there is something I must hear. How do you intend to confront someone who cannot even be killed? Is it truly possible to capture alive a monster that seems difficult to handle even when fighting with all our strength?”

Roselin’s gaze fixed upon Melverot’s upright back.

He closed his eyes for a moment and then replied,

“Even if I must sever her arms and legs, I will bring her back.”

“…I did not think you would show such a degree of loyalty to the empire.”

“It seems you already understand, but it is not so much loyalty. It is more a matter of settling a personal debt.”

Melverot turned again and walked out with firm steps.

As he moved through the palace corridors, the first person who came to mind was his old friend, Kalimford.

The hero who had sacrificed everything to slay the great beast Noir and save the empire barely managed to prolong his life thanks to Fina’s necromantic magic.

To fully subdue Fina, there would be no choice but to repeat the battle again and again until her mana was completely exhausted.

When even that torrent of power, flowing like an endless sea, dried up, and her strength ceased to exert influence—Kalimford, too, would finally be able to bring his life to a definitive close.

Capturing Fina also meant preparing to bid farewell to an old friend whom he had only been able to reunite with after countless years.

Even so, there was no hesitation.

He had accepted that this was the natural course of things.

And so, Melverot clenched his teeth tightly as he continued walking down the corridor.

***

— Caw, caw.

Night had also fallen over Ravenclaw Academy, yet bright lights still shone from the windows of its buildings.

It was the time when first-year young ladies, newly assigned to their dormitories, stayed up through the night chatting and gradually adapting.

There were still a few days left before formal classes began—so this was the moment to fully enjoy the romance of academic life.

Watching that glow spreading from Amaryllis House, the old Archmage Kalimford, seated by the window, pulled his robe tighter around himself.

For the young ladies who had to polish their skills and refinement through social education, war was a story from a distant world.

The news arriving from the other side of the map was shocking, yes—but what they needed to do now was introduce themselves to their companions in Amaryllis House and form friendships.

The bloody harshness of the battlefield was a burden for the adults to bear.

At least while they remained within the academy grounds, that was the wish of the parents devoted to scholarship.

They were still far too young to understand the true value of peace.

“I suppose I’ll have to be away for about a week.”

Seated at the table inside the room was the man who had built the cradle of this academy, Baron Dereck Lydorf Ravenclaw.

The fact that he had even prepared a separate lodging for Kalimford within the academy made it clear why he had come in person.

They were going to capture Fina.

Perhaps the battle would intensify, and if they managed to subdue her completely, the short time Kalimford had left in this world might finally come to an end.

He had come to tell him so he could prepare himself mentally.

“You said you would not be able to help much in combat against Miss Fina. I will respect that decision.”

Dereck appeared to have already completed all preparations for departure.

His intention was to resolve this anomaly—almost a calamity—as quickly as possible and return to a fully stabilized academy to fulfill his duty.

Kalimford extended his bony hand once and let out a hollow laugh.

“Perhaps this will be the last period in which I can see Miss Siern. While I head east, it would be good for her to spend as much time as possible with her.”

“No, it’s fine.”

Resting his chin on his hand, Kalimford gazed at Amaryllis House through the window.

It was not difficult to imagine Siern enjoying her brilliant youth somewhere inside.

She likely would not be a top student, nor someone recognized as a dormitory representative.

Even so, she would spend her time in the academy in her own way, receive various teachings, study much magic, and, if fortunate, perhaps even make several friends who suited her.

The person in charge of the academy was trustworthy, and above all, Siern herself was steadfast.

With his eyes gently closed as he reflected on those thoughts, Kalimford let out a deep smile and slowly rose to his feet.

“I will go with you.”

“…”

“You look as if you’re wondering whether that’s alright. What problem would there be? Siern is living well.”

He still clearly remembered Siern standing firmly on the stage, the hem of her dress fluttering as she declared her words.

Leaving that image behind, the old hero set out to settle the karma accumulated from a distant past.

For him, the time had come to bring his own journey to an end.

***

Craaaash!

Fwoooosh!

— The eastern flank detachment has been annihilated! Damn it! We can’t hold formation like this! Retreat! Retreat!

— Where is Robert?! And the supply unit?! Sound the horn! Give the retreat signal!

— No, Robert! There you are! Quick, give the retre… ghk…!

The comrades who had fought side by side collapsed as corpses, spilling blood—and then rose again as the enemy’s subordinates, swinging their swords at their former allies.

Turned into servants of the queen who ruled over death itself, they fought against the bodies of those who had once been their companions.

Thus, the defense troops guarding the border zones of the County of Elvester, along with allied units from neighboring territories, were completely wiped out.

Atop the outer wall of the count’s mansion, a girl with violet hair could be seen observing everything from above.

On the battlefield, a gigantic archlich floated, scattering vengeful spirits, while a dragon of exposed bones perched atop a spire, releasing a breath of absolute frost.

The girl looked upon that death-saturated field and smiled.

“The fact that even the peripheral troops and allied units have moved means other regions are beginning to extend their hands as well?”

The earthly paradise that once received warm sunlight and overflowed with tranquility no longer existed.

Of that beautiful land, only a landscape filled with corpses remained.

“Then… I see… it’s soon…”

Fina stood at the center of it all, hugging her shoulders with a smile full of ecstasy.

“Dereck is coming.”

Forgetting all composure, she let out a childish laugh, the corners of her lips rising high.

The subtle madness mixed into that expression was enough to chill anyone to the bone.

Even amid the swamp of death, the soldiers trembled at the sight of the queen upon the wall.

“Dereck… is coming to kill me…”

The sky was covered with dense dark clouds.

The image of Fina shuddering in pleasure was that of a true lunatic.

***

‘This is not a battlefield—it is a stage for slaughter.’

— Tap, tap, tap!

When Melverot, having ridden for days and nights from the imperial palace, reached the outskirts of the County of Elvester, the sky was already completely covered with storm clouds.

The situation was urgent, so he had arrived leading only elite soldiers.

From among all the forces of the Territory of Rochester, he had brought merely a dozen of the most reliable.

Melverot pulled the reins and spurred his mount toward the mansion of the Count of Elvester.

Tap, tap, tap, tap!

Fwoooosh! Fwaak!

Along the way, he reduced to ashes with a single gesture the hordes of corpses that lunged at them, without slowing the horse in the slightest.

Tap, tap, tap, tap!

Memories of when the great beast Noir had blanketed the north came back to him.

The karma of having reached out to a necromancer back then seemed, at last, to rise through the years and course through his own body.