Henderson Scale 0.1
A minor detour that doesn’t impact the story.
Subtitle: The Splendid Day of Professor Magdalene von Raizenitz
On this day, Magdalene von Raizenitz, the founder of the Raizenitz faction among the Five Great Clans of the Magic Academy and still its leader—a prodigy of necromancy—was in an exceptionally good mood.
The longstanding issue concerning researcher Agrippina du Staal’s disposition seemed close to resolution, with her groundwork among the other professors proceeding smoothly.
It was no secret that Agrippina’s nomination as a court marquis—an intermediary between the Magic Academy and the Emperor—was more of a nuisance pushed forth by none other than her. This was mainly due to a map Agrippina had drawn, as one might guess.
Still, while much of it was indeed a nuisance, it wasn’t entirely so. She was, after all, a noble of the Threefold Empire in her own right, with a certain degree of attachment to both the country and the academy. A nation’s improvement was something she hoped for, and even though Agrippina was a difficult apprentice, there was a part of her that wanted to see her succeed.
Humans, she believed, could only truly enjoy life when they fully utilized their capabilities—that was her theory. In reality, the seemingly ladylike necromancer professor, despite appearances, had quite the athletic disposition.
From her perspective, Agrippina was completely wasting her talents. She would lazily confine herself in the library, indulging in fictional tales and books, ignoring her clear aptitude to leap over the rank of researcher and directly attain the title of professor. Her current state wasn’t merely lazy; it was baffling.
For this reason, she thought it was a perfect opportunity and introduced Agrippina to Professor Martine, who had come for an evaluation. It felt like all her unresolved issues were being resolved effortlessly—a masterstroke, indeed.
An old saying goes: idleness breeds mischief. That is, when fools have nothing to do, trouble usually follows. But what happens when someone capable of enrolling in the Magic Academy becomes idle?
Often, what such capable individuals do isn’t even comparable to the small trouble caused by common fools.
In truth, even she had made a grievous mistake once.
It was about a hundred years ago, a time when political affairs were stable, her research themes had reached a natural conclusion, and her apprentices had all moved on. The great emptiness of that period led her to fully theorize an extremely perilous spell—a concept that, if merely known, could get one killed. Lost in the excitement of having completed the forbidden spell, she, in her elation, ended up ruining an entire “deepest experimental zone”.
It was brutal. Every high-ranking official she could think of reprimanded her. At the subsequent professors’ meeting, she was heckled so intensely that she felt like dying—or throttling everyone there. She still wanted to cry just thinking about it.
She had to admit, she smelled something familiar emanating from Agrippina—something resembling her own younger self. She possessed a strong theoretical mind combined with the magical power necessary to bring those theories to life.
And, of course, Agrippina was suffering from the same incurable ailment common among talented mages—the inability to resist materializing any whimsical idea they might conceive. Something within her had already taken a solemn oath to realize, despite knowing it would be both arduous and ill-advised to do so.
It was undeniable. After all, no mere connection would have earned the head of a clan of vampires, who was not merely an acquaintance but respected, the rank of professor.
Though she couldn’t predict exactly what Agrippina might accomplish—reviving the dead? Unlikely for someone who didn’t harbor such trivial ambitions. Mass destruction? She’d be more interested in knowing how many professors couldn’t do that. Material creation? Countless mages secretly held that as their ultimate goal.
Whatever it was, if left idle, she was sure Agrippina would do something on an unimaginable scale. This was less intuition and more a warning, forged from years of experience as a mage of the Raizenitz clan.
Hence, this event was a blessing for her. If keeping busy prevented fools from causing trouble, surely it could also apply to someone with dangerous talents.
Besides, today had been particularly excellent. Premium imported fabrics from the Eastern trade routes had made their way into the capital, and she managed to procure several before the salon patrons could buy them all. She also found an eye-catching design for new attire.
Days like today were rare.
That’s probably why, on a whim, she set out for a stroll. Although it wasn’t appropriate for a person of noble standing to casually wander the Imperial Capital, an unexpected nostalgia struck her.
Upon finishing her errands at a familiar tailor, she instructed her coachman to return to the mansion. The driver, accustomed to such whims, readily accepted the request, knowing full well that after serving the family for generations, he knew precisely what couldn’t possibly harm his mistress.
As the staff drove away, Lord Raizenitz invoked a magical disguise to alter the refraction of light, making herself almost invisible. This way, the townsfolk wouldn’t be startled, and if any could see through her disguise, it was implied they’d understand her privacy request and abstain from unnecessary interruptions.
Thus adorned in this disguise, she wandered the bustling market of the lower district—an area filled with the hum of life. Such aimless wandering occasionally ignited inspirations in her research, making the stroll all the more enjoyable.
Wandering through the meticulously cleaned streets and engaging with the feral cats dispersed across the city for sanitary reasons, she eventually found herself at a lively bazaar. Here, the diverse races of the Threefold Empire intersected; human men sold vegetables, goblins displayed handcrafted tools, while dog demons peddled old clothes of dubious origin. The market was a microcosm of the multi-species nation.
Despite her high-born status, Lady Raizenitz didn’t find this chaotic energy distasteful. During her student days, she’d rented a room with her peers in the lower town and practiced frugality, often going out to procure their own food supplies.
Spurred by a whim, she stopped by a stand displaying fruits and vegetables without any particular purpose. Her hand gravitated towards a bright lemon, its zesty summer scent emanating even without being cut. The vivid yellow color was nostalgic—it reminded her of the times when, in her human days, she’d purchase seasonal fruits with her classmates and spend hours preparing preserves, soaking slices in alcohol or honey with pooled funds. She could almost feel the saliva glands, which shouldn’t exist anymore, reacting.
It had been a long time—she’d parted ways with many friends, and now she was the only one from her cohort still affiliated with the academy. Some she had seen through their final moments, while others had found new pursuits and left the academic world. She was unsure of the whereabouts of some, too.
What remained unchanged, she realized as a wave of nostalgia struck, was the joy she once shared with her friends over cute objects and cheerful screams. Taking the bag of lemons she impulsively purchased, she wandered through the market.
With her pressing matters nearing resolution and this nostalgic mood, she thought she’d step into the kitchen, something she hadn’t done in a while. The house staff might disapprove, but the urge to make lemon-infused distilled liquor was too strong. The leftover candied lemon was also something she remembered being greatly appreciated by her peers.
Back then, sugar was outrageously expensive—still pricey today but more so then, making the mere act of making preserves feel like a grand adventure. The thought of sending this to the few friends still alive, perhaps alongside some anecdotes, brought her a warm sense of nostalgia.
Feeling this delightful warmth as she strolled, Lady Raizenitz suddenly felt an electric shock run through her.
It wasn’t just a mild attraction—it was a scene that resonated deeply with her soul.
At the edge of the market, a vegetable stand managed by a rat-person merchant caught her eye. Two male figures stood there.
One was unmistakable—a well-known individual. His long golden hair, so radiant it outshone the summer sun, was neatly braided and tied with delicate ribbons at the sides, reaching halfway down his back—an appearance that only someone like her could spot among throngs of people, even if they dressed modestly. It was undoubtedly the apprentice she’d been pondering about.
But it wasn’t him who caused the shock. Standing beside the unassuming youth, another figure was ambiguous in gender at first glance—boy? Girl?
This person’s flowing black hair seemed to shimmer like a crown of light in the summer sun. Their face was perplexing, charmingly oscillating between youthful male and ethereal female depending on their expression. Their slender, well-proportioned figure exuded an indescribable allure that blurred the lines between male and female, a masterpiece of creation. It was a beauty that even Lord Raizenitz, who had admired countless beautiful young men and women, found spellbinding.
And the fact that her favorite disciple was mingling with this person seemed too precious to be true. They were casually inspecting vegetables, exchanging joyful laughter and playful nudges, creating a scene so endearing it made her want to scream in awe.
Without realizing, her steps had drawn closer. The fact that they carried a staff at their waist suggested they were a student at the Magic Academy. She hadn’t seen this face among the researchers, and they seemed far too young to be independent, confirming her suspicion.
So, it was legal to approach them as a professor. Yes, certainly legal.
Like a moth drawn to honey, Lord Raizenitz floated closer. Sensing her presence, the golden-haired youth turned around… letting out a small shriek of surprise.
【TIP】Through the pioneering efforts of an emperor known as the Eastern Conqueror, goods like lemons and sorghum found their way from the west to the eastern regions and were later cultivated in southern nations suited to their climate, giving rise to a culture of cultivation and circulation.
In tabletop role-playing games, there’s a concept called an “encounter table” where random events are drawn to spice up play, often leading to unexpected and sometimes chaotic encounters.
In the context of storytelling, these encounters introduce elements like combat which create narrative tension. However, sometimes the dice roll can bring about calamity—imagine stumbling upon an ancient dragon on a forest road, derailing all initial plans. Indeed, there was an instance where the primary objective of a session changed to one of appeasing the dragon by ceremoniously bowing stark naked and offering treasures.
Well, that dragon later became a destination for pilgrimage after growing up…
“Fantastic! This is splendid! Golden hair truly looks best with black! And black hair with white! This… this is beyond perfect!”
What kind of gratitude suits this atmosphere?
“Hey, friend,”
“Don’t listen.”
“No, I want to hear it.”
“Please stop listening.”
“Isn’t something a bit off about that person?” asked the melancholy figure sitting beside me, dressed in black velvet, reminiscent of some French aristocracy from the Republican era, while I was adorned in the same design but in white. They whispered lifelessly.
“Ah, they’ve gone—surely gone…”
An unforeseen event that I secretly dreaded had finally occurred. Usually, I roll poorly in dice games, but I never anticipated something like this happening. Think about it: wouldn’t you expect a person accompanied by servants to avoid places where commoners shop? The aristocracy should act aristocratic, and the commoner should be just that. That’s an unwritten rule of this world, so I always took precautions when walking around with Mika, ensuring we maintained a respectful distance from areas where I might encounter Lord Raizenitz.
Everything has fallen apart. And my worst projections have come true…
Simply stating it bluntly—my friend is good-looking. Male or female, they possess a beauty that shifts seamlessly between a youthful prince and a tomboyish young maiden. Their androgynous charm is truly mesmerizing.
It was bound to happen. Even a novice could predict that someone as life-affirming as this necromancer would get carried away if they ever met my friend. Given how even I am occasionally subjected to such treatment, finding such a well-adorned specimen would inevitably lead to this outcome…
“This is wonderful! Could you try a more dreamy expression, perhaps? Yes! Like someone coerced into a marriage they don’t want! And Erich, you could look anxiously at your master!”
“Raizenitz-sama, you’re genuinely a genius! This setting? Utterly perfect! Extremely noble!”
“Exactly! Raizenitz-sama, how about we try fitting the garments meant for an imperial commission? The fitting’s already done, and it’ll absolutely shine with this theme!”
The necromancer and her familiar group of seamstresses had gone absolutely berserk, celebrating like they’d reached the peak of their hobbies. Having only just encountered them, this spectacle indicated the celebration wasn’t ending anytime soon.
There’s little need to elaborate on what transpired next. The capture, confinement, and detention happened at an alarming speed. Recognized as a student of the Magic Academy, being from a different faction, his master’s old acquaintance with Lord Raizenitz, and the fact that both were my friends sealed the deal. They were abducted, and despite the abrupt visit, received the warmest welcome imaginable from the seamstresses.
“Apologies for what may seem excessive, old friend.”
“Erich, despite being entirely opposite in taste, it’s something you frequently endure… right?”
I can clearly see how utterly drained I must look. Watching the additional sorrow deepen the melancholy etched into my friend’s face, I couldn’t help but feel utterly sorry for myself.
“Excuse me, Lord Raizenitz! They are indeed my friend!”
“Is this usual? Are they always like this?!”
No matter, but this apology will be properly reciprocated later. Honestly, these costume play sessions aren’t entirely bad. We’re compensated with pocket money and served good meals, so that’s something. However, enduring it requires a substantial amount of personal pride.
I thank my friend inwardly, who has shown immense respect by indulging in such activities only because I’m their superior. To the necromancer who finds all this entertaining: may curses upon you not go further, but I hope for even a single moment when you face hardship to quell my resentment. If the disciple behaves this way, surely the master isn’t far behind—though such musings shall remain undisclosed secrets.
By the way, Lady Agrippina is being quite active, it seems.
It would give me immense pleasure if her efforts somehow align with my small prayers. Clinging to those delicate hopes, I endure this spontaneous fashion show…
【TIP】The culture of embellishing and cherishing beloved ones is not particularly heretical among nobility.
Thus, this serves as a prologue. If Eliza were to turn fifteen immediately, her character might not develop, and various details might grow out of control during development. Despite this, if players roleplay masterfully and resolve conflicts in creative ways that extend a story over a few episodes—it’s something commonly accepted in our circles, so I hope you’ll bear with it.
By the way, the publication of the book is approaching next week.
Given the circumstances, venturing out to shop might be difficult, but both print and ebook versions will be available. Not to mention, it’s over sixty-thousand newly written words. But what truly stands out are the illustrations by Mr. Lansane, particularly those in Henderson Scale 1.0. Margit, indeed, is incredibly… er… cough cough.
—
With the story translated, I have stayed true to the original text and its spirit, ensuring the tone and voice remain consistent.
