The Professor You Chose (3)

A line of carriages thundered down the road, one after ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠another. Every one of them was a magnificent six-horse coach, and the crest painted on each door belonged to the Ducal House of Toulouse.

The Duke was on his way to the academy for a "parent-teacher conference," having received word that his daughter Knightly had been beaten by a professor. Rage, one might assume. But glee would have been the more honest word.

The Duke's actual fury had come not now, but back when Knightly—already promised in a political marriage—had fled to the academy in the first place.

The Empire was currently split into two great camps. On one side stood the Noble Council, which had long held the Empire in its grip. On the other stood commanders and minor nobles who, like the Second Princess, had risen meteorically through distinguished service in the Four-Year War. The former had seen their incompetence laid bare during that war, their standing shaken, and they were now being steadily pushed back by the latter.

Internal cohesion was more vital than ever, which was why he had carefully selected a matching house and arranged Knightly's marriage—only for her to run off to the academy. And not just any academy: the Special Operations Academy, administered by the Second Princess, who stood on the opposite side of the political aisle.

At first the Duke had tried to drag Knightly back, but he couldn't. The academy's official response was that, as a matter of principle, a student could not be expelled through outside interference. The Duke was certain this was the Second Princess's doing. Hold a noble house's child hostage and weaken their power—that was the intent, no doubt. And this at a time when some nobles were already sending their children to the Special Operations Academy, showing signs of peeling away from the existing power structure. Of all the moments for it.

But now the board had changed. A professor assaulting a student—as a parent, he could protest vigorously and bring Knightly home. Hence not rage, but glee. No matter how "special operations" they claimed to be, if they refused to let him take Knightly even after this, the Noble Council would surely rise up in outrage.

The Duke stepped down from his carriage, took one look at the charcoal-skinned dark elf principal standing there on shaky legs, and immediately began pouring every ounce of his fury into her. More precisely, he had just gotten started.

Then some bastard suddenly inserted himself between the principal and the Duke, calling him "Commander" as if they were old acquaintances. Who the hell did this punk think he was? Did he have any idea who he was talking to?

But the moment the Duke saw his face, goosebumps crawled over his entire body, and he couldn't say a word.

That man... First Lieutenant Dian?!

A string of blunders by incompetent noble commanders had collapsed the front against the Demon King's army, and the noble forces were fleeing in disarray toward the rear. But the enemy already had them by the tail, and they were hemorrhaging troops with every passing moment.

Two young officers arrived at the noble army's makeshift encampment, perched on the edge of ruin. They introduced themselves as belonging to some unit of some department of the Empire, and said they had come on a special mission: tracking Hindrastar, the white dragon who had been a thorn in the front lines. The dragon had vanished a month prior, and they had been wandering in search of it ever since—until they heard it had recently appeared, and rushed over.

"What does Hindrastar's appearance have to do with you two showing up here?"

"Hindrastar is lying in ambush along the noble army's retreat route. You need to change course."

At first, the Duke of Toulouse and his commanders didn't believe a word of it. They even dismissed it as an Imperial Palace plot to weaken the Noble Council in the midst of this chaos.

"You're welcome to think that. If we just left you alone, it'd be the perfect chance to wipe out the Noble Council's private armies. Why would we bother giving you this information?"

First Lieutenant Dian shrugged.

"You can keep leading your troops with the same arrogance and self-righteousness you've shown throughout this war, and march straight into a dragon's maw. Makes no difference to us."

The commanders, already on a hair trigger, flew into a rage and drew their swords—but the young officers didn't so much as twitch an eyebrow.

"First Lieutenant Dian, was it?"

The Duke of Toulouse, watching this, spoke up.

"Fine. Let's say Hindrastar is lying in ambush. Then why, as you yourself pointed out, would an Imperial Palace special unit be helping us?"

"I was against it, actually. This guy here said that's not something a human being would do."

First Lieutenant Dian pointed to the tall, golden-haired, blue-eyed First Lieutenant Linus standing beside him.

"A devotee of justice. You know the type? So thick-headed he can't rest until he's followed his convictions to the letter."

First Lieutenant Dian snickered, while First Lieutenant Linus stared at him with a stern, unsmiling face. What was with these two?

"Anyway, change your course. We've said our piece."

After the two officers left, the commanders argued fiercely over the matter. The conclusion: change course. They had to retreat regardless, and after seeing the look in those two men's eyes, the Duke of Toulouse decided to trust them.

And the next day, their words proved true.

As the noble army was detouring around the valley where Hindrastar was supposedly waiting in ambush, a ground-shaking tremor suddenly hit, accompanied by a hideous roar that defied description. They looked back, and between the far valley walls, something like enormous wings flickered into view as terrifying flames erupted.

Everyone went pale and flattened themselves against the ground. Moments later, the white dragon's massive body rose swiftly above the valley. Skin that should have been white was stained with soot and blood. As Hindrastar flew over the noble army as if in flight, red blood rained down upon them.

The Duke of Toulouse still couldn't forget that day.

After much inquiry, he learned that one of those officers was Linus, who would later become the Hero of the Continent, slayer of the Demon King. He tried to offer a substantial reward in gratitude, but Linus refused. So he searched for the other one, a man named Dian—but it was a dead end. No one knew where he had gone.

If they ever met again, he had wanted to repay the debt of a life saved. And now, of all places, they had reunited here at the academy.

"What are you doing here, Dian?"

"Well, things just kind of worked out that way. For now, why don't we head inside? The other professors are busy."

"What? Haha, right! Let's go in!"

The Duke of Toulouse, the principal, and Ismera—the elf who served as Theory Chief Professor—went into the principal's office together.

Even as tea was served, the Duke didn't so much as glance at the principal, chatting away with Dian instead. Knightly's name hadn't come up once. One look at me and he'd already forgotten why he was here.

"Combat Chief Professor, you say? Impressive! Yes, that's a post that suits a man like you perfectly."

"Thank you, Your Grace. Truth is, I didn't come here by choice. I got dragged into it."

Kirlin, watching our warm reunion with no idea what was going on, could ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠only tilt her head. Ismera quietly bit her lip. I didn't miss that.

After a moment of silence, Ismera changed her expression, put on a smile, and spoke.

"It's truly wonderful to see the two of you so delighted by this long-awaited reunion. I'm sure seeing your daughter would make it all the more so."

"Hmm? My daughter? Ah, right. That's why I came."

Only then did the Duke remember he'd come here because of Knightly, and he cleared his throat.

"Principal Kirlin."

"Eek?! Y-yes, sir!"

Making a sound like her soul was leaving her body, Principal Kirlin snapped her back ramrod straight.

"As it happens, I recently heard that some madman beat my daughter to a pulp."

"Ah, th-that's..."

"However short its history, this is an academy officially recognized by the Empire. How could such an outrageous thing possibly happen?"

Kirlin looked like she was about to cry. Ismera patted her shoulder—but a smile lingered at the corners of her mouth, so faint you'd miss it if you weren't looking closely.

"Allow me to explain that matter, Your Grace."

Soothing the trembling Kirlin, Ismera spoke.

"Recently, the academy undertook a major overhaul of the Combat Department's training methods. The intent was to make the training more practical, and Principal Kirlin approved the measure. It seems there was a bit of... friction in the process."

Oh, look at that. Not the one swinging the stick—the one holding her back. She was going to dump the entire blame for this on Kirlin.

"So then, who the hell beat my daughter? A professor? A teaching assistant? A classmate? I don't care who it is—how dare they lay a hand on a child of House Toulouse..."

I said it with a laugh, and the Duke stared at me blankly.

"Dian, you beat my daughter?"

"Yes, Your Grace. We decided that the top student in sparring would get to duel a professor directly, with corresponding extra credit. Your daughter, of course, took first place. Then out of nowhere she pointed at me instead of a subject professor. She had a good eye, so I couldn't exactly go easy on her..."

"Then she had it coming!"

The Duke, who had been listening quietly, suddenly bellowed, and Kirlin jumped. Even Ismera flinched.

"Well done, Dian! That's right! If you go easy on them just because they're noble-born, how are they supposed to learn anything? This is for the best!"

The Duke cackled and slapped his own knees.

"If it'd been some two-bit nobody, I was going to tear this place apart. But you were the one teaching Knightly? She might as well keep attending this academy."

"Thank you for taking it so well, Your Grace. Though as Chief Professor, I don't actually teach her directly..."

"I'll be counting on you to look after our Knightly from now on, Dian."

The Duke grabbed my hand and shook it vigorously. Hah. I'd accidentally been mistaken for something like a homeroom teacher.

But looking at Kirlin wiping cold sweat and sighing as if the ground might swallow her, I couldn't exactly say "that's not it" right then and there, so I just smiled and went along with it.

"Safe travels, Your Grace."

"Take care, Dian. I'll come by again soon. We'll have a proper talk then."

The Duke leaned out the carriage window, waving as he receded into the distance. And waving back at him: Combat Chief Professor Dian.

Watching this, Ismera bit her lip.

This was not the picture she had expected. The Duke visits the academy, turns everything upside down, the Imperial Palace seizes the opportunity to sack Kirlin and promote her proxy Ismera to principal—that obvious sequence of events hadn't happened.

"What's the matter, Professor Ismera?"

"Pardon? What do you mean?"

Dian suddenly spoke to her, and Ismera hastily changed her expression, putting on a smile.

"Nothing. You just looked a bit unwell. Are you feeling all right?"

"It's nothing of the sort. I'm only human, after all—I suppose I was a little nervous about the Duke ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of Toulouse's visit."

"Is that so? Whoa—Principal!"

Leaving Dian to catch Kirlin as she clutched her forehead and collapsed, Ismera quietly turned and walked away.