Henderson Scale 2.0
Main scenario collapse. Campaign end.
—
The gatherings of the nobility are indeed organic things, connected not just vertically but also laterally, with ties to other factions.
Here, the term “faction” refers not to the exclusive factions of the Magic Academy, but rather to those that are more fluid and broad in nature.
For example, there are cases where one belongs to the faction supporting the current emperor, but as an individual, is a noble who was granted a territory by one of the electoral families, while also having economic ties that allow them access to smaller factions within other electoral families… Such examples of convoluted allegiances among the nobility are not few and far between.
With every minor incident of familial discord or political change, the already complex power dynamics are further reshuffled, growing ever more chaotic. It’s no exaggeration to say that if one doesn’t send a representative to social events even during a rest period, they’ll be left behind within three days. The turmoil of the high society is no joke.
It was around the seven hundredth year since the founding of the Threefold Empire. Amidst the recent — though recent in the span of hundreds of years — third succession of the Erlstreich Duke following the previous emperor’s passing, a great upheaval in power structures was unfolding. During this time, a pair of guests arrived at a soirée hosted by one of the elector princes.
As the servant stationed by the door announced their arrival in a resounding baritone, graceful waltzes filled the elegant dance hall, which suddenly buzzed with whispers.
It wasn’t just the uncommon nature of the guests that caused the commotion—it was the sheer political weight they carried. Simply their presence could shift political dynamics.
The act of attending such gatherings was seen as an expression of friendship or interest; more profoundly, as a declaration of alliances between faction leaders or even an indication of new memberships in factions.
That being said, the arrival of this particular baron today was indeed a surprising turn for the evening’s attendees—and likely for the host, who had sent out invitations somewhat casually.
No, perhaps the baron in question had come precisely to cause a surprise. A minor ruckus of whispers could be more than enough to spark political movements.
The ornate door, reminiscent of a castle’s grand entrance, creaked open to reveal the figure of the approaching baron.
Or rather, a baron and his wife.
“Oh, she’s as beautiful as ever…”
“That harmony between them, it’s still the same?”
“You were at their wedding, weren’t you? Was it like this back then?”
“Yes, they’ve not changed at all.”
As the couple leisurely made their way across the carpeted floor towards the host, who stood at the back of the hall to receive guests, various whispers spread among the gathered nobles. Even their mere presence could spark conversation. This was the mark of true aristocratic authority.
Under the barrage of audible whispers that surely reached them, the couple, walking arm-in-arm, maintained a serene smile, one that hinted at happiness in each other’s presence.
Centuries of unwavering love had earned them the reputation of being “The Harmonious Ones.” In a soft, private murmur audible only to each other, the couple whispered.
“Hey, can we go home already?”
“Quit complaining. This was your idea, wasn’t it?”
They leaned towards each other, whispering as affectionate couples do, maintaining their smiles without showing any hint of tension. Moving at a deliberately slow pace befitting their noble image, they approached the host.
“Truly, their deep affection continues to astonish,” one noble who had known them since their wedding whispered while sipping wine.
“After all, the great magic that preserved the deceased soul’s personality as a revenant, believed impossible, they made a reality.”
Let us now talk about the couple walking gracefully over the crimson carpet.
The lady’s name was “Agrippina,” and the gentleman’s name was “Erich.” An ordinary pair, they were granted the title of “Baron of Staal” within the Threefold Empire and had an ordinary marriage—or so it seemed on the surface.
Yet, there was one twist: the two belonged to different types of species—one with a defined lifespan, the other long-lived.
Eventually, Erich, the one with a defined lifespan, reached his natural end at the ripe age of 106, an extraordinary longevity among the human race. Deeply mourning her husband’s loss, Agrippina never took another spouse, brushing aside all marriage proposals with a gentle smile and a glance at the wedding ring she refused to remove.
But her perseverance was profound. Driven solely by the desire to bring back her departed husband, she utilized all her resources—her position as a “Professor of the Magic Academy” and the head of the Raizenitz faction—to tirelessly explore every method possible.
Finally, forty years after her husband’s death, Agrippina succeeded in resurrecting him as a revenant, granting him a second life as a being with an indefinite lifespan, allowing them to be together eternally.
A story of tragic love turned into a Happy Ending. Those who heard it marveled at her passion overcoming the seemingly impossible and were moved to tears.
Such profound love wasn’t something that occurred frequently in the world.
However, they did not know…
That Erich’s final words were simply, “It’s finally over…”
—
[TIP] Revenantization: A phenomenon where powerful mages with lingering attachments to the world pass away. It was believed that artificially inducing this was impossible.
However, in a joint treatise by Baroness Agrippina du Staal and another Magic Academy professor, a method to resurrect deceased humans as revenants under very specific conditions was discovered, causing a sensation in academic circles.
—
“Aaah, I’m exhausted!”
With a bath-finished adult-like groan, the source of all this evil collapsed onto a couch. The glamorous attire that had drawn all eyes moments ago was nowhere to be seen.
Who could believe that this woman, who casually summoned a water pitcher with an “invisible hand” and drank directly from it, was the renowned Countess Agrippina du Staal?
And as for me—if not simply “Erich of Königsstuhl Manor,” but instead “Baron Erich du Staal,” a purposeless existence forced into undead resurrection—I couldn’t remember exactly how this happened. Everything had rushed at me like a torrential current, and before I knew it, the decision was made and the ordeal swiftly concluded.
Before I realized, I had become a noble.
I just wanted to return home to the manor, but the people there now addressed me with an unfamiliar honorific reserved for the “Baron of Staal.”
No, truly, what exactly happened that led to this?
The reason, however, was clear. A certain duke had taken notice of me, cementing plans for me to secure a professorship and gain a noble title within the Threefold Empire. This individual foresaw my future.
Targeted by factions within the Magic Academy and being the daughter of a foreign grand noble family, I received countless marriage proposals and invitations from dinner parties hosted by the meddling Lord Raizenitz, all of which promised nothing but nuisance.
A solution to this predicament was found by this corrupt opportunist.
The solution was to find a suitable partner who could serve as a shield for both of us.
And the target was…me, the unfortunate one.
Though I don’t know why, it was likely due to some tactical reasoning—introducing someone new meant avoiding complications tied to existing noble relationships and familial entanglements.
In a process involving a full purge and replacement of our family’s lineage, bribery, negotiation, and coercion, I somehow became part of a noble family that was once thought long extinct. Even those who lived at the manor were retroactively granted noble status.
The official narrative became that my grandfather, a fugitive from assassination attempts, had hidden in the countryside with dreams of reviving the family name, all while the “sending wolf” insignia became evidence of our noble heritage.
“Is the invitation processing done?”
“I’m working on it.”
Though I fulfilled my responsibilities as a husband and now continue to do so in an undead form, I can’t help but wonder what this is all about. Honestly, I don’t fully understand it myself, but the fact is, I don’t dislike it.
Is it due to shared affection? The fact that we even had children? Is it some sort of mental illness? After having all my future plans obliterated, I could have easily harbored deep resentment—but instead, I find myself inexplicably working hard.
This might warrant a trip to the doctor; a mental one.
“An invitation for a garden tea party from Lord Keffenbach has arrived. You remember we received a present for our younger child’s coming of age, right? We cannot ignore this.”
“Eh? All the way to the North? Such a hassle…”
“I could go alone if it’s too much trouble.”
Still, something eludes me.
“If we don’t, then we must go together. It’s not polite to skip expressing gratitude, and we’ll also drag in someone from the Magic Academy. Please help me catch them.”
The purpose of our union was supposed to be for her convenience—a shield to deflect all these social obligations. Yet, every time we go out for greetings or expressions of gratitude, she insists I accompany her. And strangely enough, she’s also eager to bring our lively daughters along for adventures.
After creating a revenant out of me without my permission, why does she insist on these unnecessary outings, contrary to our original purpose? Surely, such profound attachment isn’t due to love—such a saccharine concept doesn’t apply here. Besides, after her casual dismissal of a potential infidelity on my part, it’s clear that’s not the case. Given her nature as a long-lived species, it’s suspicious that she doesn’t react more strongly to such a violation.
For someone who supposedly loves, they would have reacted much more dramatically if I or their beloved had been tampered with.
“Ne, sit down already? It’s unsettling to watch you wander around while reading letters.”
In the midst of processing invitations through the house steward, my wife suddenly stood and suggested this.
Obediently, I followed her unspoken invitation and sat on the couch beside her. After over a hundred years, I’ve become accustomed to these subtle “invitations.”
As soon as I settled into the couch, she leaned her upper body on my knee. Despite being nearly three hundred years old, her body, a testament to the long-lived species’ perpetual youth, felt exactly as it did the first time I touched her.
She hasn’t changed at all. I aged, died, and then returned as a revenant—but she remained the same.
“Finally, I can relax…”
“Please don’t fall asleep here. Baroness Schuffenberg has sent you an invitation for a theatrical performance. What do you want to do?”
As I idly attended to this knee-pillower of hers, I discussed with her the unimportant task of handling invitations. This particular matron, fond of theater but prone to loneliness, often extends invitations for performances.
“Performances? Where is it now? Ah, with Baroness Schuffenberg, it must be at the Imperial Capital’s Phantasm Stage. The lead has changed recently, so the performances are no longer to my taste.”
Even after twenty years of the change in actors, she still refers to it as “recent.” It’s almost as if she’s living in a place like Kyoto, where 100 years ago feels like yesterday.
“Fine then, what’s the play?”
“Hmm…uh… oh no…”
Both of our groans echoed in unison at the sight of the play’s title.
“Eternal Echoes of Love?”
“Urgh…”
Both of us let out a groan of disgust akin to dry heaving.
The opera’s theme revolved around us—a long-lived husband grieving the loss of his wife, descending into the underworld to reclaim her, a story that inevitably ends tragically. However, moved by the husband’s unwavering love and the bell that symbolized their eternal bond, the gods turn a blind eye. The play is an excessively sweet, syrupy tale of love.
Worse still, the script has been modified this time by the leading actor, who now features a version where the wife rescues her husband from the underworld. The invitation explicitly asks us both to attend.
To be directly invited based on the theme of the play? What on earth is this woman thinking? Her sanity is highly questionable.
“Just decline it for me, will you?”
“Sure.”
I added this rejection to the several replies I was writing simultaneously on the desk within reach, thanks to an invisible hand.
“Eternal love? Pfft. No way. Right?”
I deny it. There’s no such thing as that. Me having her buried face on my knee being a mere pretense? Of course not. She must be plotting something wicked through this rejection.
Certainly, certainly…
—
[TIP] “Eternal Echoes of Love.” A grand tale where the main character ventures into the underworld to reclaim their lost companion, guided by a “bell” formed from their profound love. It inspired numerous variations. The adaptation by the Imperial Capital’s Phantasm Stage, titled The Baron’s Daughter’s Admiration in the Eternal Echoes of Love, gained immense popularity, leading to a long-running play that persisted for over a thousand years. In a distant future, it even inspired movies, novels, and manga.
Interestingly, the related parties involved maintain slightly awkward facial expressions while declining to comment.
A sudden flight of fancy entered my mind—what was Agrippina truly thinking?
Incidentally, during Erich’s lifetime, Agrippina bore a remarkable number of children for a long-lived species—one son and three daughters—all in the span of around eighty years, quite an unusual occurrence.
