The Professor You Chose (8)

When Knightly first took the map in hand, she stepped into the dark woods alone with a light heart. It was a mountain in the dead of night, with no supervising teaching ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠assistant and no teammates along for the ride, but none of that particularly worried her.

Principal Kirlin had kept a tight lid on field exercises for fear of accidents, but she had poured enormous effort into theory classes in their place. As a result, the students were thoroughly competent at basic map reading — and Knightly, who had studied still further on her own, could roughly gauge her bearings from the constellations and the shapes of the trees alone.

There would be a difference, of course, between doing it endlessly at a desk and actually putting boots on the ground. That, however, was a trivial problem she would adapt to after a few tries. Finding her way through the hills near the Academy was nothing to lose sleep over. And besides — this was Professor Dian's private tutoring. Open one-on-one instruction would only invite ugly talk, so he had arranged a separate location to teach her. He would be waiting just a little farther in.

An hour of that later, Knightly realized something had gone badly wrong. The path that had followed a gentle ridge began to veer sideways, and the terrain grew steadily more vicious. At first it had been a slope that merely asked her to keep her balance. Before she knew it, it had steepened to an angle where she would tumble sideways any second if she did not grab onto the trees.

As her breath grew short and sweat traced down her chin and throat, Knightly stopped where she stood and studied the map again, wondering if she had taken a wrong turn. But no matter how she turned the map about and checked it against the compass, this was the correct direction. She would have to keep punching through this godawful terrain all the way to the Academy.

Keep going for now, then. There was a scrap of flat ground just ahead, and Professor Dian was surely waiting there.

Another hour of that. Crawling up a slope that was all but a cliff, Knightly finally snapped and swore.

"Damn it. Damn it, damn it! This goddamn professor! Where the hell is he?! Why hasn't he shown up yet?!"

The only answer was her own voice, bouncing back at her from every direction.

"Come out this instant! I know you're watching!"

Still nothing.

Knightly wiped the streaming sweat with the back of her hand and pulled the map out again. She still had about a third of the way left before she reached the Academy boundary, and between here and there, gentle stretches and detours were almost nonexistent. What a brilliantly designed route. As if he had set out to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠thoroughly make her suffer.

At that point, Knightly considered turning back the way she had come. It did not seem likely to work. She did not want to give up like this. She had boasted that having him as her dedicated instructor would surely help her career — and if she went back empty-handed, what would Professor Dian think of her? That she was an arrogant, vain little noble daughter who made grand claims she could not even keep.

Worse, if she turned back she would have to return with the infiltration professor or one of the other teaching assistants, and she could not simply ignore the eyes of the students who had already reached the Academy. It was not that she would be embarrassed or ashamed. She would rather die than give those inferiors anything to gossip about.

And on the other hand, Knightly also wanted to find out where her own ability ended. She was, without question, the Academy valedictorian, outstanding in every subject — but that was only true of theory classes and written exams. She still had no idea what her level actually was in rough country. If she could not even cross a mountain this close to the Academy, she would never become the special agent she had so longed to be. She would never get to live like the Imperial special forces in the stories her brothers used to tell, the ones that had stolen her heart. If she were judged substandard in the field and shuffled off to some desk job, her father might snatch her up at once. Then everything — fleeing to the Academy, the fierce rupture with her father to escape an arranged marriage — would have been for nothing.

I'm going. Even if it kills me, I'm going. If Professor Dian had any sense at all, he would have put at least a minimum safety net in place.

Knightly stuffed the map into her jacket, planted her hands on the ground, and pushed her upper body up. After several false steps that nearly sent her tumbling, she recovered her balance and began to climb the slope, hanging on by a thread.

"Damn it. Damn it, damn it! This goddamn professor! Where the hell is he?! Why hasn't he shown up yet?!"

When Knightly's scream of rage came down from higher on the slope, Survival Professor Waiver turned to me with a grin.

"Looks like the class president is well and truly furious."

"She'd be pissed. She came expecting private tutoring, and she's been climbing a mountain the whole time."

Waiver and I were sitting in a tree below the slope where Knightly had slumped down at mid-height. We had been tailing her ever since she received a separate map and started the infiltration alone. Nearly two hours had passed since then, and she still had not noticed we were there.

"Looks like the class president is going to rest a bit. Shall we have a late-night snack while we're at it?"

Waiver pulled two sizable pieces of jerky from a pouch at his waist and handed one to me.

"This is mutton jerky. I made it myself. The flavor is absolutely incredible."

"Hmm. You're right. This is really good."

Chewing steadily on the jerky, Waiver asked,

"By the way, Chief Professor. I always thought I was second to none when it came to stealth and tracking. But looking at you today, you're no slouch yourself. Did you receive separate training somewhere?"

"Nothing formal. Just picked it up here and there, learning with my body."

"Is that so? The rumors I heard said you were a war veteran. Which corps were you with?"

"Here and there for that too. What about you during the war?"

I redirected rather than get dragged into a long-winded account of the past, and Waiver answered readily.

"I was with the militia."

Survival Professor Waiver had been a hunter from the Quiranna region in the eastern Empire. When the Four-Year War broke out and the Demon King's army invaded, he had formed a militia with the local people and fought them to the last.

"Our Quiranna has a great many hunters who've passed the family trade down for generations. We learn to shoot a bow and set traps as soon as we can walk, and most of the country is mountain terrain, so the Demon King's army had a truly miserable time of it."

I knew that well enough myself. In the early war the Demon King's army had swept across most of the continent, but there were a few places they had never been able to crack, and Quiranna was one of them. Mountain warfare in a country crawling with hunters who knew their bows and their traps. Just thinking about it was enough to make your skin crawl.

"So, did you have some fun?"

"I feel a little awkward saying so, but I did receive a medal, you know."

"Oh really? What medal?"

"The Third-Class Military Merit Medal. Got it for putting my hundredth arrow through a horn-head's skull."

"Wow. That's genuinely impressive. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠A civilian hunter, not even a regular soldier, shooting a hundred demons dead."

"Haha. Thank you."

A rustling came from above. Looking up, I saw Knightly unsteadily getting to her feet.

"Oh, she's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠getting up. Will the class president go forward, I wonder, or turn back?"

Waiver and I held our breath and watched her. After a slight hesitation, Knightly planted her hands on the ground and began to climb the slope.

Seeing that, Waiver let out a low sound of admiration.

"I thought a noble young lady wouldn't last through something this rough, but she's remarkable. As expected of the class president."

"Then you go on ahead and wait for her, Waiver. I'll follow behind."

"Understood, Chief Professor. I'll see you again at the Academy."

Waiver shoved the remaining jerky into his mouth and leaped from tree to tree like an owl, climbing the slope in silence and at speed. I waited until Knightly had climbed far enough, then quietly followed after her.

"Hah..."

When the lights of the Academy came into view ahead, Knightly let out an exhausted sigh and dropped to her knees. She had just come down a rock cliff. Her gloves were already worn through, and every muscle in her body was trembling. That she had managed to make it this far on her first field exercise was entirely thanks to the physical training she had done on her own. She did not know the finer points of overcoming terrain — but her foundational fitness had carried her, and she had, in the end, reached the last point of the infiltration route.

"Good work, Knightly."

Forcing her head up, she found Professor Dian looking down at her with a smile, having appeared at some point without her noticing.

"Professor... Why on earth are you doing this to me..."

"What do you mean, why. It's the first session of our once-a-week private tutoring."

Knightly forced her parched lips to move, baring her teeth.

"This is... what you call private tutoring...?"

"You came alone, separate from the other students. And I followed behind you the whole time, supervising."

"You followed me...? I didn't sense a thing..."

"You wouldn't yet. Keep learning and you'll be able to feel it. But..."

Professor Dian pointed over his shoulder with his thumb.

"The final destination isn't here — it's inside the Academy. This is infiltration training, after all."

"Damn it..."

Knightly ground her teeth, planted a knee, and stood, stepping her trembling legs forward. Then she collapsed. I caught her in time.

"You okay?"

No answer. Knightly in my arms had her eyes closed — she had completely passed out.

Doesn't look like we can go any further. We'll have to stop here.

When I gestured, Waiver, who had been up in the Academy watchtower, signaled back that he understood and withdrew from the tower. The original plan had been for her to scale the wall under a rain of Waiver's "narrowly missing" arrows, but this was enough.

The reason I had deliberately driven Knightly alone into a place this dangerous was to test her will and her endurance. If she gave up at something as simple as crossing rough country, there would be no point in continuing to teach her after that. I would just call her in once a week, kill some time, and send her back. Whatever. So I had tested her.

Until now she had swaggered around as if she could do anything on the strength of theory grades alone — but throw someone into the field and their thinking tends to change. I had seen plenty of platoon leaders who graduated military academy with excellent marks have their souls leave their bodies after their first battle. Theory and the field are completely different things.

Fortunately, contrary to my concerns, Knightly had not given up, and she had made it this far. The truth was, I had wanted to teach her anyway, so this was a real relief. She was an outstanding student in any number of ways, and I had grown curious how far she could go if she passed through my hands. And if we produced an exceptional agent among the graduates, the Second Princess would have no particular reason to look sideways at the current arrangement — Kirlin as principal, me as professor.

Alright, Knightly. Let's keep going.

"Hello, Priestess."

Priestess Maya, who had stayed late at the infirmary writing Patient Logs on account of the night infiltration class, lifted her head. Combat Chief Professor Dian was coming through the door carrying a blonde student in a complete mess.

"She's a student from the infiltration class. Her stamina's completely spent, so she's here for Divine Healing."

"Lay her down over there."

While Dian laid the girl on an empty bed, Priestess Maya made rapid notes in a new Patient Log. Confirming that the log she had written was based strictly on objective fact, she rose from her chair and went to the patient.