Translator: Cinder Translations
...
After attending the simple reception hosted by the town mayor, Markalov and his wife settled into the residence provided by the town government.
The next morning, the couple rose early.
His wife prepared to host the wives of other prominent figures in town who would come to visit—after all, those involved in education now held high social status in various places.
It happened to be a Monday, so Markalov immediately began his new job.
In the morning, he arrived at the new school. It was located in the southeastern part of Northview Town, a large, rectangular area surrounded by red brick walls. Inside, there was a two-story building and a warehouse.
According to the information Markalov had received, this school had more than 200 students, divided into four classes.
The three teachers at the school greeted him at the gate.
"Hello, Principal Markalov. I'm Flinn Deco, the language teacher here. This is math teacher Cory Hall, and this is the other language teacher, Filet Anden," said a man dressed like a scholar, introducing the teachers to their new principal.
"You've all worked hard! Thank you for your continued efforts."
"It's our duty, and we should be doing it."
Markalov shook hands with each teacher and followed them to his newly prepared principal's office.
"Everyone, since we only have one math teacher here, I will also serve as a math teacher to lighten Mr. Hall's workload."
Cory Hall thanked him.
Markalov waved it off and continued, "In addition, I will also take on the role of political ideology teacher."
"Ideology class?"
The three teachers were confused, having never heard of such a subject.
Markalov explained, "Yes, it's a course responsible for shaping students' worldviews, outlooks on life, and values."
The teachers understood a bit more now. It sounded somewhat like the role of a missionary.
"Now, Mr. Deco and Mr. Hall, do you see the carriage I came in? Let's go and move some things. We need to install them in each classroom."
...
In the afternoon, all the teachers and students were gathered in the small auditorium on the first floor.
The students curiously observed their new, burly principal, who had already changed out of his Alden military uniform and into civilian clothes.
The small auditorium was essentially the largest classroom, with a blackboard painted on the western wall.
Now, hanging above the blackboard was an oil painting.
To be precise, it was a portrait of a man.
Filet Anden quietly asked Flinn Deco, "Mr. Deco, isn't that... Lord Grayman up there? I'm not mistaken, am I?"
Mr. Deco nodded. "You're not mistaken. I confirmed with Principal Markalov—that is indeed Lord Grayman."
"But…" Filet whispered, covering her mouth, "if I remember correctly, Lord Grayman is only 18 years old."
The man in the portrait had deep, wise eyes and an air of maturity and reliability, which was quite different from the young and tender Earl in real life.
"A bit of artistic enhancement, I suppose."
Principal Markalov picked up a piece of chalk and wrote a large word on the blackboard.
Loyalty!
"Now!"
Markalov raised his voice with the commanding tone he used in military training, making the whole room fall silent.
"We will begin our first political ideology class! The first thing I'll teach you is—what is loyalty!"
Markalov had been transferred to the education post with a special mission. Like others who had transitioned from military to education, his mission was to instill loyalty to Paul Grayman as a firm belief in the hearts of the growing children.
Before leaving the military, instructors had repeatedly trained Markalov and the others, and each had been given a copy of the Ideological and Political Education Guide as well as a portrait of Earl Grayman to study carefully.
And so, the former lieutenant platoon leader, now principal of Northview Town Public School, began his new life in the town.
His days were spent traveling between his residence and the school, occasionally supervising the militia's rotating training. Life was peaceful and fulfilling.
But a sudden piece of news disrupted this tranquility.
The news was brought by the militia captain, Kajit, while Markalov was teaching first-grade students basic arithmetic. Kajit burst into the classroom, gasping for breath.
"Lieutenant, Lieutenant, there's an emergency!"
Markalov put down his textbook. "What's the matter? Don't panic. Take your time."
"Two lumberjacks reported seeing wild men in the northern forest."
"Wild men?"
Markalov was surprised—weren't they supposed to be a thing of legend?
"Are they sure?"
"They're certain. These two lumberjacks are trustworthy people, so they probably aren't lying."
"And the wild men were armed."
"Armed? How many of them?"
Markalov grew cautious.
"The witnesses said there were at least ten. They were afraid of being discovered and fled back to town immediately, so they're unsure of the exact number."
"Alright, gather two platoons immediately. One will guard the town's exits, while the other will go north with us to investigate."
"Yes, sir!" Kajit saluted and hurried off to gather the men.
The teachers and students were surprised to see their new principal donning his military uniform once more.
Soon, a group of militia members had assembled on the school grounds—the grounds doubled as their training field. Most of them held spears, some carried shields with swords, and a few were armed with longbows and quivers.
Markalov strode in front of the formation.
Kajit stepped forward to report, "Sir, Northview Town's first platoon of the militia—32 men present and accounted for! Awaiting your orders."
"Good." Markalov nodded, pleased with their prompt assembly.
"I've gathered you here because Kajit has already informed you—we're heading to the northern forest to search for wild men. What we know so far is that there are at least ten of them, and they're armed with metal weapons."
The militia remained silent. Some looked surprised, others curious, and some even excited.
Markalov asked loudly, "Does anyone have any questions?"
There was a brief silence—no one spoke up.
"Good! Let's move out!"
With a wave of Markalov's hand, Kajit relayed the command, "Everyone, right turn! March!"
The militia jogged in single file, leaving the school grounds.
(End of the Chapter)
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