The Performance Evaluation
"Take the first-years on a little trip to the North."
"What kind of bullshit is that?"
The Headmaster's brow twitched, but when a man summons you first thing in the morning only to tell you to haul a pack of first-years off to the North, there was no other answer I could have given either.
It wasn't as if he were asking me to take the kids on a picnic to the hill behind some village. He said the North.
And I knew perfectly well what this old bastard meant by "the North," which made the whole proposition sound even less appealing.
"Hey, how about stuffing some goddamn respect into that head of yours."
"You have to earn respect first, sir."
"Do you have any idea how many years older than you I am?"
"I'm aware you'll be dying sometime soon."
"…"
The humor drained from the Headmaster's face, but I stared right back at him without a flicker of discomfort. We stood there glowering at each other for a while until he finally gave up first, sighing and leaning back into his chair.
"I can see exactly how Dorothy turned out the way she did."
"Wasn't that obvious already?"
"I raised her wrong, I suppose."
"Maybe take a look at your own personality first."
"…Anyway."
The Headmaster, changing the subject with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer, tapped a document lying on his desk with one finger and began explaining again, this time in more detail.
"We've decided to send the first-year students to the North for their Performance Evaluation."
"Says who?"
"Says me."
A certifiable lunatic, as expected.
"To be precise, I've already spoken with the Great Chieftain. I told him I'd send our students over, so he should put them through the wringer a bit."
"Huh…"
At the words Great Chieftain, an incredulous laugh escaped me before I could stop it.
Now that the war was over, he was the leader of the Northern Tribal Alliance or whatever, showered with the courtesies owed to a lofty figure… but the man I remembered was the kind who would charge into the heart of the Demon King's army with nothing but an axe, grinning like a maniac. Handing the Academy's pampered students over to someone like that to be worked over—the thought alone promised quite the spectacle.
"You're throwing a bunch of noble brats to those savages?"
"That's rather crude phrasing."
"It's not wrong, though."
"No, it isn't."
Since the Headmaster didn't bother denying it either, I picked up the document on the desk and skimmed through it.
Most of the names made it obvious at a glance which noble house they belonged to, and scattered among them were a few that looked like commoners—Sienna's was there, of course, and Erin's, a name I'd grown used to by now.
"So what are we supposed to do once we get there?"
"The Great Chieftain will decide that himself."
"…So you really are just throwing them to the wolves."
"Isn't that what real-world training is?"
"Hearing you say that makes me sick with anxiety."
"That's rich, coming from you."
He wasn't wrong.
Academy students would have to face a real battlefield sooner or later, and the Demon King's death hadn't made fighting disappear from the world. Monsters still roamed the land, and people hacking at each other with swords wasn't going away anytime either. Getting battered and broken in the North would do them far more good than sparring for grades inside the Academy's walls.
Not that this made the old bastard's head any saner, given that he'd decided it would all start tomorrow.
"Well, I'm a professor, so if you tell me to jump, I'll jump. When do we leave?"
"Tomorrow morning."
"…Tomorrow?"
"Yes."
Not even a token grace period for the students to prepare—notify them today, ship them off to the North tomorrow. The sheer casualness of it confirmed it: this old bastard had finally rotted through with age.
Whatever I was thinking must have been written plainly on my face, because the Headmaster snorted.
"Watch the eyes, will you? You look ready to stab me."
"Shall I?"
"Enough. The airship is already prepared, so collect the students tomorrow morning and board it as-is."
"Do the students know?"
"They'll find out soon enough."
"…"
"If they don't like it, tell them to drop out of the Academy."
Dorothy's personality had come from this old man, no question about it—and the fact that he was still sitting there whining about raising her wrong meant his conscience was every bit as rotten as the rest of him.
"How long will we be gone?"
"Plan on about a week for now."
"A week…"
"What, too long?"
"No."
I looked down at the student roster again.
"If they come back about half-crippled, at least classes will be easier."
"Try anything and you're dead."
"I'll give it my best."
"That's exactly what worries me."
The Headmaster wore an expression of genuine concern, and I couldn't for the life of me understand why—I was the one taking the students there.
The next morning.
"Whoa."
The exclamation came from behind me.
"Waaah…"
One gasp apparently hadn't been enough, because a longer one followed it. I didn't even bother lifting my eyes from the roster in my hand as I answered.
"What."
"What is that?"
"Look up and you'll see."
"That's why I'm asking what it is."
When she finally did raise her head, Sienna was staring up at the airship in front of us, her mouth hanging open.
Erin, standing beside her, wasn't gasping as openly as Sienna, but her eyes were a touch wider than usual, so she clearly wasn't indifferent either.
On the Academy's wide open grounds floated a single airship, larger than any ordinary building. Faint light glowed from the mana-stone-laden mechanisms beneath its massive hull, and around it, students clutching their luggage had gathered in clusters, chattering away.
A plaything for rich nobles, and on the battlefield, a uselessly oversized thing with no offensive capability whatsoever—good for nothing but hauling supplies.
"It's an airship."
"I know that."
"Then why ask?"
"Are we really riding that thing?"
"Would I drag you all out here just to gawk at it?"
Even after my answer, Sienna looked up at the airship again, as if she couldn't quite believe it.
"That thing actually flies?"
"I'd assume so."
"It won't fall?"
"Might."
"…"
Sienna turned her head slowly toward me, her expression transformed from mere moments ago, but I paid it no mind.
"This is my first time on an airship, you know."
"So?"
"Couldn't you say something a little reassuring?"
"If it falls, you're almost certainly dead, so say a prayer instead."
"Wow. Genuinely the worst professor alive."
"Figured that out now, huh."
Sienna stuck out her lip and turned away, but curiosity was apparently stronger than spite—before long she was gazing up at the airship again. I left her to it and glanced at Erin beside her.
"Ever ridden one?"
"…No, I haven't."
"Aren't you a noble?"
Erin's eyebrow twitched almost imperceptibly.
"Not every noble goes around riding airships."
"Is that so."
"Yes."
Even as she answered, Erin's gaze hadn't left the airship since a while ago, as if it had no intention of ever leaving, and her face was funny enough that I decided to prod her a little more.
"Then why do you look so excited?"
"I don't look excited."
"Your eyes are sparkling."
"…They are not."
"Uh-huh. Sure."
I was about to turn back to the roster—teasing her any further would just invite needless hassle—when Sienna leaned in beside me, peered at Erin's face, and promptly burst out laughing.
"You're excited."
"I am not."
"You are so excited."
"I said I'm not."
"Guess nobles are just like us after all."
"Sienna."
"What."
"Be quiet."
At first even trading a few words with each other had seemed awkward for the two of them, but lately they bickered like this over the most trivial nonsense with surprising frequency. As far as I was concerned, if they managed to get along on their own, there was nothing bad about it.
At the very least, if I threw the two of them into a crowd of students whose names I couldn't even be bothered to memorize properly, then wherever one ended up slumped in some corner, the other would come looking for her.
"Professor."
"What."
"Where exactly are we going?"
At Sienna's question, several of the students who'd been chattering nearby turned to look at us too. From the looks of it, the Headmaster truly hadn't told them a single thing.
I debated for a moment how to break it to them, then decided there was no point in dressing it up and answered plainly.
"The North."
"…"
The noisy surroundings fell quiet for a beat.
Sienna blinked a few times, then asked again as if I'd misspoken.
"Where?"
"The North."
"The North?"
"Are there multiple Norths?"
"No, wait, hold on—"
The excitement drained out of Sienna's face almost instantly.
"Don't tell me we're going where the Tribal Alliance is."
"Yep."
"Why?"
"Performance Evaluation."
"Says who?"
The same words I'd thrown at the Headmaster yesterday nearly pulled a snort out of me.
"Says the Headmaster."
"He's insane!"
"Don't complain to me. I only heard about it yesterday myself."
One by one, the faces of the surrounding students began to stiffen as well.
The Northern Tribal Alliance had been an ally during the war, and they weren't hostile to the kingdom now, but these students had evidently at least heard about how the people there lived—and how ruthlessly they worked you.
The expressions on the ones whose names practically screamed noble were especially worth watching.
"If you don't like it, drop out."
When I relayed the Headmaster's words verbatim, small curses and groans erupted here and there. Truly, the Headmaster was a magnificent educator.
His talent for uniting his students' hearts in perfect harmony without lifting a finger was beyond reproach.
"Everyone aboard?"
"Not yet, sir!"
When a staff member by the airship called back the answer, I folded up the roster and tucked it into my pocket.
"Then hurry up and board."
"Professor."
"Now what."
Sienna's face had shifted from moments ago, tinged now with genuine unease.
"Is it really dangerous?"
"Dunno."
"…"
"But I'll keep you from dying, so get on."
Sienna stared at me for a moment after that, then nodded more easily than I'd expected.
"Then I'm fine."
"Fine with what?"
"You said you wouldn't let us die, Professor."
"You believe that?"
"Yep."
The instant answer, without a second's hesitation, left me at a loss for words instead.
Erin, standing beside her, showed no objection or sign of anxiety either as she started walking toward the airship. It struck me that in moments like these, the two of them trusted what people told them to an almost abnormal degree.
I looked around one last time to make sure no stragglers remained, then boarded the airship. Before long, the hatch closed and the hull began to rise slowly into the sky.
Almost immediately came the sound of Sienna, pressed up against a window, causing trouble all over again.
"Whoa! We're floating! We're actually floating, Professor!"
"Keep it down."
"Professor! The people down there are so tiny!"
"Mm."
"Erin, look at this!"
"I'm looking."
"You're excited too, aren't you?"
"…A little."
"See! I knew it!"
I watched the two of them for a while, then finally leaned back into my seat and closed my eyes.
A week from now.
I had no idea how hard the Great Chieftain would run those little bastards into the ground—but at the very least, I doubted I'd be bored.