Henderson Scale 1.0: Due to a fatal derailment, reaching the ending has become impossible.
This is a short story from the Lord Drift route that I did at https://ncode.syosetu.com/n4811fg/67/.
The apprentice was furious. She had resolved that she must, at all costs, reform her frivolous and carefree master.
The apprentice understands nothing of politics. She is the disciple of Lord Drift. Born as the youngest daughter of an insignificant noble family, she had led a life more comfortable than many merchants, despite not being particularly wealthy. Throughout her life, she read books, indulged in poetry, and supported her household.
Therefore, she was especially sensitive to idleness.
In the wee hours of the morning, with the resolve to ambush her master who, she believed, was surely asleep, she crept out of her bed, bypassed the lift, and evaded several detection magic patterns until she finally reached her master’s sleeping chambers.
It was all for the trust placed in her by Lord Raizenitz and Lord Staar, who had entrusted her with the mission to finally bring him to the faculty meeting in a decent state.
The apprentice had no wealth or luck, only a reliable talent for magic and a serious disposition. With nothing more than a faint confidence, she calculated her fingers and toes, squared the total, and maneuvered through the traps her master set, which were just enough to outwit any potential adversary.
Finally reaching the sleeping quarters, with a triumphant smile, she prepared to capture him as he slipped away into the void like a mere speck of paper… only to end up grabbing a cushion shaped into a human form.
“Wha…?”
With a light popping sound, several delicate fireworks burst—an explosion and inferno expertly wielded by her master, a fact she was all too aware of. Following this absurd fanfare, a single sheet of paper floated down, taunting her confusion.
The paper read:
There isn’t necessarily an answer to every difficult problem.
Reading and rereading the simple sentence, the apprentice finally managed to grasp its meaning….
“YOU DAMN MASTER!!”
The apprentice was furious.
Tips: The faculty meeting, literally a gathering of individuals who hold the rank of professor. Also known as the Night Parade of One Hundred Demons or the Sabbath. It’s a venue to predict the future or downfall of the Threefold Empire. Here, budget allocations and presentations of struggling research to provide external stimulation occur, yet occasionally, a proposal for an extraordinary technology arises, causing amusing changes in the complexion of the scribe reporting to the emperor.
The foolish master, he cannot be allowed to live—this auditory hallucination made the dissolute professor smile faintly.
“Is something the matter, Erich?”
“Nothing serious, it’s just that a cute one got caught in the trap.”
This was not one of the prime locations in the Imperial Capital but rather a remote frontier, far from the capital where one could reach the satellite nations by horse in two days—a place on the very outer edge of the empire.
In this town, more akin to a military camp than the sophisticated cities of the capital or affluent provincial capitals, two professors—or rather, two adventurers—casually drank their liquor.
The early-morning tavern was relaxed yet open for business, with night-orientated species scurrying around serving customers. Among the mix of those who came for breakfast before their workday or those who regarded this as their night and came for drinks, were two idiots who discarded their magnificent robes to enjoy their cheap wine with apparent relish.
“Are you still going on with that spiteful trap of yours?”
“Kind of. If they’re foolish, it’s harmless. If they’re harmless, it’s harmless, and then…”
“Should an excellent enemy arrive, death awaits. Truly, what kind of warped mindset must one have to conjure such ideas?”
Surrounded by an almost actor-like gentleness, Lord Schupponheim, who could overshadow an actual actor, snapped his fingers lightly, adding ice to his cheap cup of wine. This friend, who increasingly resembled his master—an observation he staunchly denied—was amusing yet heart-breaking to watch over the years.
A mage’s workshop is akin to a banker’s account, an invaluable item embodying knowledge built with the currency of time. Its value surpasses piles of gold coins or treasures. Many magicians would regard both their finances and workshops as incomparably significant possessions.
This is because knowledge spawns countless coins, but gold or treasures cannot produce knowledge.
Thus, all workshops are fortified against thieves to the fullest extent allowed by personal capabilities. Of course, Mika has adequately secured her own workshop, and the design blueprints for vital urban infrastructure, more precious than life, are guarded by multiple layers of traps. However, Ehrich’s workshop differed slightly.
Security generally aims to create structures that immediately suggest “I give up” and deter intruders. Robust safes or buildings surrounded by numerous guards aim to instill deterrence as part of their defense.
However, for some reason, this man kept his workshop entrance as a “free pass.” He justified this by claiming that absent students should still be able to submit their reports, but his long-time friends were certain this was a lie.
Otherwise, one wouldn’t prepare traps whose damage varies according to the intruder’s abilities. This lunatic found amusement in deterring assassins, a wicked nature indeed.
Imagine a simple puzzle with multiple solutions. If novices fall for traps and answer incorrectly, the trap might sprinkle water or paint on them, dropping a note with a lesson. However, for those who make near-perfect mistakes that specialists wouldn’t usually make, a fiery magical attack courtesy of Lord Drift, renowned as a combat magician, will fly toward them. This generally happens because someone approaching such traps is either trying to kill him or steal his research.
The study of fantastical creatures is extremely challenging. These creatures often possess formidable combat capabilities and, since they tend to have high levels of individual completion, show little desire for reproduction, resulting in fewer encounters.
Nevertheless, many fantastical creatures exhibit unique traits fitting their rarity. Their blood may restore youth, their scales repel physical attacks as effectively as barriers conjured by high-ranking magicians, and their eyes, if transplanted, can grant foresight of a few moments. These powerful abilities are so alluring that some would sacrifice their families for them.
Lord Drift studies these creatures purely for research purposes—if sometimes strangely making friends with them—only securing minimal samples for specimens and casually ignoring requests from authorities for practical use.
Thus, there are always those who desire the small samples he has secured for research—often resorting to illegal means when negotiations fail.
Of course, how these people have fared against him is evident from the fact that he is still alive and conducting research.
“What kind of nature are you talking about? Excluding you, there mustn’t be many professors as gentlemanly and full of common sense as myself.”
For a statement that could easily provoke someone to draw their staff or sword within seconds, Schupponheim maintained his gentle smile and deftly brushed it off. Somehow, this hopeless psycho had convinced himself he was a man of common sense, despite no one understanding the twisted logic behind it.
“Hey, two beautiful ladies! Can you pour me a drink?!”
As the awkward atmosphere began to develop, a drunkard intruded on the two adventurers. It was a vampire, so drunk from his nightly drink he seemed barely aware. From his rough leather armor and heavy cloak, it was evident he was likely in the same line of work. Some vampires, who used to be human, retain habits such as eating and drinking—remnants from their human experiences.
“Given that you see me as a woman, it seems you’ve had more than enough, my lord.”
“Huh? He’s a guy? But… such long blond hair…?”
“Ah, this situation seems dire… I am of a neutral gender now, but…”
Although completely inebriated, the vampire seemed experienced and intelligent, not relying solely on typical undead resilience. So, Lord Drift smiled, retrieved a tin flask from his pocket, and said,
“Well then, my lord, meeting here is destiny. Let me treat you to a secret stash of wine.”
“Ah, thanks man, but are you really a guy? This smell’s incredible…”
“It’s due to a sachet made by my sister. No wonder with the famous ‘Eliza of the potent fragrance’.”
“Even though I can smell something pleasant from an old man, having one handed to me means I can’t just leave.”
The rodent owner, who initially frowned at the outside alcohol being introduced, decided to let it slide as long as it pacified the drunkard. There are some people who, when provoked, believe they can do anything to the instigator.
“Let’s share a toast. It’s not from a renowned distillery, but it’s a favorite of mine.”
“Oooh? Firewine, eh? Great stuff, boss! Ahhh, this burns the throat! I’m alive!!”
“Hearing an undead say that creates a peculiar mood.”
Mika grimaced at the uncertain whether it was a joke or serious exclamation. While risqué jokes were common in high society, he struggled with them due to his country upbringing and still acted like a countryside lord during visits home.
“So, my lord, you appear quite well-known around here, but I have a small request in return for your drink.”
“Ah, sure thing, ask away!”
“I’ve heard there’s a rare species of ground squirrel in the nearby forest. They supposedly turn invisible depending on the light…”
Ignoring the risqué jokes and sexual innuendo common in tavern banter, Erich swiftly changed the subject to get to the point. His abandonment of all plans and his dragging Mika, who was scheduled for a guest lecture at the Modern Practical Architecture Seminar, all the way to the remotest area was due to a magical artifact he bought at the capital’s rare goods market.
Known as the “gloves that don’t look foolish,” it seemed like some kind of pun or a moral tale object but was, upon closer inspection, a legitimate item. The gloves were invisible to the naked eye unless observed with specialized magical vision, rendering hands invisible when worn.
Upon questioning the merchant, he heard tales of a fantastical animal and, overcome with curiosity, couldn’t wait to confirm its existence. Thus, he dragged his reluctantly captured friend to this location.
An extremely bothersome situation indeed.
“Nah, it’s not about the light. It’s genuinely invisible.”
“Truly fascinating. Care for another drink, my lord?”
“Ah, much appreciated… see, those things become completely transparent when they sense danger.”
“Hmm, incredibly intriguing… Mika, could you make a fishing net for me? I’d like it light but with high visibility.”
“To keep them alive, huh? Sure, no problem though.”
Anyway, the reason he came here, neglecting faculty meetings and all such engagements, wasn’t for world domination if by any chance these items went into mass production, nor for a desire to use them as a cover for his own adventures, and certainly not for research to achieve fame and success.
It was purely out of an eight-year-old level of curiosity: “There’s some rare creature I don’t know about? Let me see it!”
Venturing into interesting situations had become as natural to him as drinking alcohol was to miners.
This world had countless intriguing things yet to be discovered. Surely, since he was entrusted with the role of a professor, the mission to research new topics was essential in his worldview.
Mika spun together a brightly-colored net painted with distinct dyes for him. After all, after dealing with him for so long, it was obvious that if he said something, he wouldn’t be dragged along unless necessary.
“…No, I might be just like him.”
Upon deeper reflection, realizing that despite the option of resisting physically, he simply sighed and followed along made him equally a part of this escapade. There was no choice but to go with it. “Friend is having fun; that’s what matters.”
In any case, his job was singular—watching Mika investigate the reason behind the ground squirrel’s disappearing act while ensuring no assassins targeting them emerged.
Tips: The information held by professors of magic is often strategic for nations, some even threatening to undermine foundational structures. Lord Drift, particularly notorious in the realm of destruction—able to wield numerous secret techniques with strategic firepower surpassing even the strongest military units—also possessed several rare and valuable samples of fantastical beasts. Because he doesn’t disclose detailed habitats to prevent extinction through overhunting, assassins motivated by both personal and national gains often target him.
Since there was demand, during my break, I improvised this piece. How did it go?
The worst trait of this NPC is his tendency to create jobs he then dumps on PCs or leaves behind in the field. If supplements detailed enough are provided, I’m sure a GM will emerge who’ll create a session based on jokes about eventually killing this guy.
Regarding Twitter, I mentioned doing side bits and small tidbits there, but realized I hadn’t included the ID in this material. I’ll add it in the novel information section later. If you like, follow and prod me around!
