The Giving Priestess (1)
Rumors from the Comprehensive Combat Training Ground had spread through the Academy. Some lunatic claiming to be the Combat Chief Professor had shown up dragging a mage along and raised hell. On top of that came testimony that he'd spent the entire day wandering from place to place with a thoroughly sour look on his face, scribbling something in a notebook.
Judging by his antics at the training ground, a sweeping overhaul of the combat curriculum was as good as a done deal. Reactions to the prospect split sharply down the middle.
On the supporting side were the students who had enrolled because they genuinely wanted to become Imperial special operatives — kids who'd been worried that the current teaching methods wouldn't let them perform when they actually hit the field.
The opposition consisted of those who'd already gotten comfortable with the easy Academy life, or who'd never had much interest in becoming special operatives in the first place. Take, for instance, the highborns who'd been pushed down the line of succession and had no choice but to wash up here.
Noble titles passed to the eldest son as a rule, which meant every other child had to find a different path. Typically they either leveraged the family fortune into business or entered public service — and for the latter, a diploma from the Imperial Special Task Academy proved remarkably useful.
Graduating from this Academy didn't automatically make you a special operative. The curriculum was so broad that students branched out into all kinds of organizations and posts depending on their individual aptitude and graduation scores. That was why plenty of aristocratic milksops were currently enrolled at what people called a "spy school."
Given the Academy's founding purpose, kids like these shouldn't have been admitted at all — but ignoring the influence of nobles and high officials was easier said than done. These students didn't care about Combat Department credits and only dove into the theoretical courses, so Dian's actions were bound to sit poorly with them.
And so, with opinions splitting so sharply, Dian began his duties as Combat Chief Professor in earnest.
"So this is how things are going to work from now on."
After I'd finished the explanation, I looked around to find the professors staring at me blankly. This was the Combat Department office. I'd gathered the combat faculty and had just laid out my plan for overhauling the department's educational system.
"Anyone have questions?"
"Um… Chief Professor?" Infiltration Professor Lina tentatively raised her hand. "Did the Principal actually approve this? It doesn't really seem like she would have."
"She approved it. Here's her personal signature."
I held up the report bearing a bizarre signature that looked like a drawing of a cat striking a fighting pose, and choking gasps erupted from all around.
"Th-the Principal signed off on a Combat Department report!"
"How on earth did you manage that, Chief Professor?!"
"There's always a way. Anyway, you all understand the direction of the reforms, right?"
Infiltration Professor Lina raised her hand again.
"I understand the content, but isn't that going to be too dangerous?"
"What's dangerous about it? This is an Academy. It's not like anyone's going to die."
"That's true, but I can't help worrying about the students getting injured. Even with the night infiltration training we're starting soon…"
"Then we put adequate safety measures in place. If you're too scared to even try, what exactly are you planning to teach?"
Another professor raised his hand and spoke up.
"Chief Professor. Armed Combat Professor Genev. There's one major problem with that."
Armed Combat Professor, huh…
I glanced at his hands, and sure enough, the calluses were those of a seasoned swordsman. Between the sharp eyes and the subject he taught, this was a man who'd clearly made a name for himself in that line of work back in the day.
"What kind of problem?"
"At present, our Academy infirmary isn't equipped to treat critical injuries. At best, they can administer first aid for minor scrapes and bruises."
"That can't be right. Don't you have a holy priest?"
"We do not."
"Then who's teaching first aid and emergency surgery?"
"That would be me!" Survival Professor Waiver, a bow slung across his back, shot his hand up with enthusiasm. A hunter teaching first aid?
"Well, survival skills and first aid do share a lot of common ground! And dressing game is pretty similar to basic surgical procedures, too!"
What kind of bullshit is that? In an Academy this size, there's no holy priest, so a hunter is teaching first aid? Does that even make sense?
I'd assumed the infirmary would be fully staffed and hadn't even bothered to look it over. This was a bit of a surprise.
"When the Principal scaled back all the combat training courses, she sent the infirmary's holy priest packing as well. The idea was that if there weren't going to be any accidents, they might as well save the budget." Armed Combat Professor Genev offered the explanation in his usual dry monotone.
Like firing the entire development team because the server's running fine. Come to think of it, I'd found it strange even then, when I brought the mage along and was told the Academy only had one.
Well, well. Terrified of safety accidents and pinching every last coin of the school budget. She really did everything she could to keep from getting fired.
That settled it — the infirmary would have to be reinforced first. I wanted the training to be realistically demanding, not mindlessly brutal. If someone got hurt, they needed to be treated properly.
"I'll take care of that, so you lot rewrite your training plans according to the reforms I laid out. The core of it is training that feels like the real thing. Anyone here without combat experience?"
"Chief Professor." A woman seated across the room adjusted her glasses and spoke up. Psychological Warfare Professor Felimia, specialist in intimidation and negotiation.
"What? Don't tell me you've got no field experience."
"Of course I do. But there's a critical flaw in your plan."
"Which is?"
"I don't know if you're aware, but among the students we teach, there are…"
"You're talking about the nobles and the children of high officials, right? You're worried about the fallout if we work them too hard?"
Professor Felimia closed her mouth. The other professors seemed to share the concern, nodding along or letting out sighs.
"Don't worry about that either. I'll take full responsibility, so you just focus on how to actually teach these kids. That's all you need to do."
"Can we take you at your word on that?"
"Of course."
At that moment, a hammer started waving around in the air over at a desk on the far side.
"Hey, Chief Professor. Let me get a word in too."
The one waving the hammer was Combat Equipment Professor Kazador, a dwarf with only his head poking up over the desk.
"While you're tearing everything down and building it back up, how about throwing some budget our way for combat equipment?"
"Why combat equipment? Don't tell me you pulled all the tools because they were too dangerous for the kids."
"It's not that. We're just woefully short on practice tools. We've got five-person teams sharing a single set."
"Hah, for crying out loud…. I'll make a note of that too."
"I… I have something to say as well…"
This time it was Combat Horsemanship Professor Anna, glancing at me with a hangdog look.
"We also need some hay and beans for the combat horses…. The Principal cut a lot of it, saying there was a risk of students falling off…"
Aigoo, this crazy dark elf even tried to save money on horse feed? Does she have any idea how much combat horses eat in a day?
"All right. I'll take care of everything that's come up, so in exchange, you make me a promise. As long as there's no major problem, you do things my way. And don't listen to the Principal. I'm under the Principal, and you're under me, so anything that comes up goes through me. Got it?"
"Good, good! Brog likes Dian!" Unarmed Combat Professor Brog, the orc, bared his tusks and slammed his fists on the desk, sending the professors' notebooks and pens bouncing up and down.
"I'm all for it! I was so bored with nothing to use magic on anyway." A youthful, freckled face lit up as Orendi, the Academy's only mage and the Combat Department's Magic Countermeasure Professor, conjured glittering stars above his head in agreement.
Most of the professors, however, still wore expressions that said something wasn't sitting right. A greenhorn who hadn't even been in the post a week was suddenly tearing everything down and telling them to just trust him. It was a natural reaction.
Anyway, whatever. That's enough for today.
"If nobody else has anything, rewrite your training plans by tomorrow and report in. Next spring — that's exactly one year from now — we'll be producing our first graduating class, and we can't exactly send out garbage, can we?"
"Yes, sir."
"Understood."
Once the professors had answered, I gave the desk a light rap.
"Good. Anyway, you lot just trust me. That's all!"
"Do you think anything will actually change…?" After Chief Professor Dian had left the faculty office, Combat Horsemanship Professor Anna spoke up in her usual gloomy murmur. "Ever since the Academy was founded, the Combat Department has always been treated like an afterthought…. Even as Chief Professor, he's still under the Principal, so I just…"
"We'll have to wait and see. But given that he got the Principal's signature, I don't think we need to be too pessimistic." When Magic Countermeasure Professor Orendi responded on a positive note, Infiltration Professor Lina nodded vigorously.
"He talked that big — surely he'll show us something. Last time at the Comprehensive Combat Training Ground, he already— ah, wait." Lina gave an awkward little laugh and glanced at General Combat Professor Morton. The fact that Morton had tried to establish dominance early on and been dismantled point by point by Dian was something everyone politely pretended not to know.
"So, Morton. You went head-to-head with him. What's this Dian character like?" True to a dwarf who never cared about reading a room, Combat Equipment Professor Kazador asked Morton outright.
"At the very least, he doesn't seem like the type to look out for his own hide the way the current Principal does."
"Ha, then that's good enough. Let's wait and see." Kazador, whose thought process was nothing if not simple, wrapped up his assessment of Dian then and there, while Brog, the orc Unarmed Combat Professor, just kept repeating that he liked Dian.
"Honestly, as long as the combat courses don't vanish entirely and I don't get fired, it doesn't much matter to me!" Survival Professor Waiver, cheerful and easygoing by nature, beamed as he plucked his bowstring like a harp.
"In that case, the immediate question is whether he can restore the infirmary staff to what it used to be." Psychological Warfare Professor Felimia adjusted her glasses. "Getting the Holy Order to dispatch a holy priest again would be a chance to verify the Chief Professor's capabilities."
"I find that unlikely." Armed Combat Professor Genev offered his opinion in the same dry tone as always. "The Holy Order already has a grudge against the Academy. We threw them out and now we'd be asking them to send someone back."
"It's probably impossible. Not unless he's got some extraordinary connection to the Holy Order." General Combat Professor Morton delivered the verdict without a shred of warmth and rose from his seat. "All right, everyone. I'll be off to draft the new training reforms."
"Good work."
"Looks like we're working late again tonight, no surprise."
As Morton headed out the door, Combat Equipment Professor Kazador lifted his hammer and bellowed.
"Anyone gonna have a smoke? Lend me one!"
"Brog's in! C'mon, shorty!"
The professors got up one by one and filed out of the department office, each tossing out a remark as they went.
"Haa… I just want to feed our combat horses properly…"
"This time I hope we really put those smug Theoretical Department professors in their place."
Following the others out, Psychological Warfare Professor Felimia sank into thought.
Does the Chief Professor actually believe he can get a holy priest back from the Holy Order? Is that why he's talking so big?
His educational reforms had zero chance of working unless the infirmary could support them, which meant he absolutely had to bring a holy priest in. And yet, no matter how she turned it over, there was no way a Chief Professor still so young could negotiate with the Holy Order. Not without some extraordinary connection, at least.
The Holy Order was an organization that sat above even the Imperial Palace. It was not the kind of place that would indulge the whims of a single Academy. Best not to get my hopes up.
And yet not a single one of the professors knew anything about this Dian's background. Just where had he come from, and what had he been doing?
"Lord Dian!"
I was climbing the steps of the Holy Order headquarters when a voice called my name. I looked up to see Rormane hurrying down the stairs, her violet priestess robes fluttering.
"Lord Dian! I've missed you so much!"
With a few steps still remaining, Rormane leaped and threw herself into my arms.
Rormane, Grand Chancellor of the Holy Order. My old comrade from the special task force that took the Demon King's head, where she'd served as our healer.
