An angry shout reverberated through a study that, though not particularly spacious, was clean and meticulously organized.
“Master!!”
A young girl burst into the room with such vigor that one might have mistaken it for a raid by state authorities. With piercing, slanted eyes and rice-straw-like hair tied back with a simple headband, the adorable girl appeared to be around ten years old. However, her refined use of courtly language, which belied her age, revealed the unmistakable signs of a rigorous upbringing.
The room was brightly lit by magical light streaming in from the carelessly opened door, but there was no sign of its owner amidst the vast array of finely bound books that lined the walls like a fortress. Half-written letters, unfinished papers, and a notebook so crammed with inserts it had become a block of paper suggested the presence of the master, yet only the empty chair betrayed his sudden disappearance.
In fact, there was one other missing item. On the wall where the magical heating system interrupted the line of bookshelves, a ceremonial arming sword that usually hung there as a trophy was also gone. The sword, which its owner had long since ceased carrying, had vanished for only one possible reason. Realizing this, the visitor instinctively drew in her breath, paused heavily, and…
“Here he goes again, off on another adventure without a word! That incorrigible professor!!”
She shouted at the top of her lungs and angrily slammed her short staff onto the floor in frustration.
A short time later, a figure dressed in a robe, holding a simple staff, descended the lift into the entrance hall of the Magic Academy. Presumably an auditor of the academy, the young apprentice sniffed disdainfully and stepped down.
“Hey, what’s wrong? You look awfully upset. That pretty face of yours is all scrunched up,” a voice called out to her.
She looked up in surprise. “Huh? Oh! Professor Schponheim!”
The man addressing her possessed a graceful physique so harmonious, it was as if a specimen of human beauty had been borrowed from a museum. His gentle expression was so neutral that it defied the distinctions of gender, exuding a strange allure.
Clad more in the robes of a magician than an actor, this was the young professor at the Magic Academy, nicknamed the “Red-Robed Lord” with an equal mix of jealousy. This was Mika von Schponheim, a prodigy who had ascended to the rank of professor at the tender age of twenty-four, the first “neutral gender” magician in the Threefold Empire. Admired by the foremost school of the Dawn faction, he was now frequently invited to the council, just shy of thirty, with young aspiring magicians bowing deeply to him, as if speaking to him was a tremendous honor.
“Don’t let your robe drag on the floor like that. There are plenty of gossips around,” he cautioned her.
Reprimanded by the professor, who exuded a beauty that transcended description, the girl instinctively adjusted the hem of her robe. It was common knowledge among magicians that the length of one’s robe could easily make it dirty, and keeping it pristine was a sign of sophistication. Indeed, it was even joked that if a magician was so preoccupied that they couldn’t protect their robes, they’d receive ribbing from their peers. Yet, the girl was too troubled to care about such trivialities.
“Is it him again?”
Seeing her straighten up hesitantly, the neutral-gendered professor gave a smile as blooming flowers might.
“Yes! Professor Raizenitz summoned him, but that wandering master of mine… always wandering around aimlessly like a severed kite!” she continued, adding, “And today, he had promised to guide me!” With that, she stomped her feet, berating her teacher.
The subject of her complaints was none other than the famed combat magician and leading authority on fantastical species, known as the “Lord Drift,” Erich von Dahlberg. Even among the troublesome scholars of the Dawn faction, he stood out as one of the most problematic. Having entered as the direct disciple of Agrippina du Staal, who had reluctantly achieved professorship a decade ago, he was notorious for his unusually low boiling point when it came to matters concerning his younger sister, Lady Eliza von Lehmlucht. Multiple times, this had led to duels over inappropriate courting gestures or, even more bizarrely, over the presence of half-fairies in the academy.
The moment the topic of his sister arose, his gloves would fly off—not metaphorically, but literally, as if to challenge any suitor to a duel. And indeed, numerous men had bowed to the ritual of duels before him until even the most illustrious names dared not challenge.
Contrasting sharply with his reclusive teacher, Erich’s penchant for wandering knew no bounds. Any mention of a rare fantastical species in the west and he would drop everything to sketch it. Word of the hidden ruins of a previous dynasty in the north and he would vanish under the guise of preserving historical documents. Rumors of treasure-laden sunken ships from the south and plans were abandoned like old shoes. Whispers of a newly formed magical palace in the east, and in the next moment, he was gone, transported by magic.
His movements were no longer simply itinerant but outright nomadic, his professorial responsibilities increasingly resembling those of an adventurer or prospector. Spending less than two months annually at the Magic Academy, he fulfilled his teaching duties through telekinetic chalk and distant lectures. This left him labeled as a nuisance—”Why not just become a full-time adventurer?” some grumbled.
Compounding the issue, his strong network among the faculty made him politically untouchable, and once provoked, he unleashed a ruthless barrage. Worse, he had a habit of dragging unsuspecting professors and promising auditors into his protracted adventures, regardless of faction, simply because it pleased him. Naturally, such antics earned him the disdain of the higher-ups and collaborators alike. Yet, despite his antics, his consistent delivery of significant research outcomes prevented exile, leaving him untouchable politically and earning him a whimsical reputation akin to that of a fairy. His sister, too, bore the title of professor and honorary nobility, yet followed him as if an assistant, adding a layer of irony to his standing.
“Ah… well, don’t worry. He’ll be back soon this time. I wasn’t invited, and Lady Lehmlucht has lecture commitments. If he fled from Lord Raizenitz’s summons, he’ll be back within a month,” the professor reassured her with a calm smile.
“Why does he have to flee from our faction’s leader? He’s given me such beautiful dresses, he’s truly a wonderful person!” she protested hotly with furrowed brows.
Confronted with her indignant outburst, the seasoned professor, wise beyond his thirty-some years, struggled for an appropriate response. It wouldn’t do, especially for someone valuing the master-disciple bond, to admit that their revered professor had abandoned even his protégé to escape the eccentricities of another. Thus, the matter was left unsaid…
…
The creaking carriage jolted, and the long-sought-for sword, cradled in his arms, evoked in him the delightful spirit of adventure.
“Ah, what an honor! To have a professor accompany us feels like wielding a legendary blade against ogres!”
“Oh no, the pleasure is mine. I am deeply grateful that you have made time for me despite my sudden visit,” Erich von Dahlberg replied graciously to his host, the owner of a modest caravan he had fortuitously encountered near the Imperial Capital. The bald, bearded tunnel-dweller was evidently pleased by the company.
“Please forgive the rudimentary carriage. Do rest and enjoy the view of the sky!”
“I shall take you up on that. But should there be a moment when my modest magic may be of service, please do not hesitate to ask.”
As he lay back and gazed at the cloudless sky above, Erich couldn’t help but feel how suffocating the confines of the academy had become. If his eccentric hobbies had drawn him out again on such a fine day, his spirit might have broken under the strain. What, he wondered, would that dignified man have him do?
Regardless, the overwhelming sense of freedom was invigorating. Recently, the demands of his social standing and the establishment of a secure base in preparation for a life as an adventurer had proven far more complex than imagined. He reflected on how his mentor, who chose to remain a researcher, had shown remarkable foresight.
Buried in the forbidden archives for two weeks hunting references—battling monstrous tomes and their curses—only to be accosted by his socially awkward sister’s cries for help with her lecture preparations. Then he was enlisted by Mika to accompany her to a dinner event, which stretched into five days of endless research meetings and banquets.
When a challenging yet satisfying project seemed completed, a summons from Lord Raizenitz arrived, compelling him to once again flee for his sanity—and his soul.
“Advancing too far has its drawbacks…” he muttered.
“Excuse me? Did you say something?”
“No, nothing of concern,” Erich dismissed the matter with a wave of his hand. Reflecting on his fifteen hundred drachma salary and ennoblement, he realized how inconsequential these accolades truly were. Had he known the Magic Academy was a place where convention-bound individuals were manipulated by eccentric misfits, he might have happily stayed a researcher. His ascension to professorship at the tender age of twenty-four was, indeed, a feat worth celebrating, yet now seemed a mistake.
How could he have anticipated that his position would curtail such spontaneous adventures? With an apprentice attached, opportunities for escapades dwindled further—especially when she was too inexperienced for the dangers ahead.
As he contemplated, butterfly-shaped notes unraveled from folded paper, revealing a communication copied directly from Agrippina’s techniques. Fortunately, his childhood friend Margit, too, seemed to have a moment of leisure—a rare reprieve from her busy schedule managing prestigious hunting grounds. This break away from the hunting season might prove a welcome respite for both of them.
Yes, if he could establish a spatial marker upon arrival, he would summon family to their retreat for a leisurely reunion. Magical assistance could handle household matters, and bringing them for a relaxing visit was the perfect excuse for a personal getaway. An urgent visit to treat his father’s chronic back pain and his mother’s neuralgia with thermal baths seemed appropriate—indeed, obligatory for a dutiful son.
An excursion to the regional adventurer’s guild with Margit could follow. Exploring high-difficulty requests there might even masquerade as fieldwork for research. By the time he returned, Mika would be less occupied, presenting another opportunity for collaboration.
“Let’s enjoy this rare professional pursuit,” Erich resolved, aware that upon his return, he’d face complaints from Agrippina and Lord Raizenitz alike—none of which he intended to heed. There was also the matter of his apprentice’s education to consider.
On a whim, he decided to send her an apologetic note inviting her along for a restorative retreat. Experiencing diverse environments and gaining exposure at a young age was essential for the development of one’s sensibilities. Moreover, training her palate was equally important for future political gatherings where extravagant dining would await.
Erich affectionately rotated his lightened shoulders, mentally sketching out his adventure itinerary…
[Tip: Professors at the Magic Academy are not prohibited from holding secondary positions. However, due to the rigorous demands on popular professors, such endeavors are rarely feasible. In Erich’s case, his penchant for fieldwork involving dangerous fantastical creatures earned him admiration for his meticulous specimen preservation techniques, maintaining high lecture attendance among both professors and auditors.]
The tale concludes as our protagonist, Erich, now an accomplished professor, ironically mirrors the behavior of his once-reclusive master Agrippina, despite viewing himself as the epitome of reason amidst the academy’s eccentricities.
