“Tabitha, what are you doing?! Use your magic!”

“I . . . I can't! I'm already surrounded . . . !”

“Don't act as if you were ambushed! You charged into them!”

“U-Ugh . . .”

“What happened to your bravado?! Stay still! Don't move! And absolutely do not talk!”

“Why . . . why is that the most important thing?! Ughh . . . pain . . .”

“I said don't talk!”

“But pain . . . pain hurts, you know . . . ? My legs, my beautiful, runway model legs, they feel like they're on fire . . .”

“For goodness' sake, just stay still and I'll sort it out!”

Despite being unscathed, Yuela was buried to her nose in stress. She was currently required to deal with both the weight of the enemies around her, as well as the needs of her most reckless comrade.

She fulfilled the role of the vaunted archer, and yet in this battle never had the chance to exhibit her prowess. As lethal as it appeared, a bow was still a bow. At such close quarters, she must have felt she had no choice but to resort to the large twig she found lying on the ground. There could be utterly no doubt. The situation was beyond any of their expectations, much less hers.

“Can you use healing magic?” asked Yuela, coldly appraising the wounded witch beside her.

“I'll . . . I'll need time.”

“Time. Very well.”

Yuela sent a penetrating glare above the heads of her foes and looked straight at the girl fighting by the entrance of the secluded valley.

“Mireille! Tabitha needs you!”

“Yes!”

Belying her fatigue, Mireille's voice soared across the battlefield. Her arms were heavy. Her weapons, already blunted from the retreating battle against the phantasm, were further weighed down by the fresh blood of her enemies. None of that mattered, though. Even if a tree trunk were strapped to her back, Mireille's ceaseless enthusiasm would still propel her forwards.

“Almost there!”

Seeing a gap in the enemy's lines, she shot off her back foot and raced ahead with her swords scything by her sides. Her breach successful, she swiftly reached her injured classmate.

“I'm here, Tabitha!”

“Y-You are . . . ? Ughh . . . my vision . . . I can't see anymore . . . save me . . . it hurts . . .”

“On it!”

Mireille knelt down. She swallowed a deep breath before fixing her eyes on the target.

And then, she gently snipped the bush of stinging nettles which had caught around Tabitha's ankle.

“Ow ow ow,” groaned Tabitha, her face twisting in puppy faced agony.

“Be quiet!” snapped Yuela. “It barely brushed you! You make it sound worse than it is! In fact, you don't need to waste magic on it! We'll search for some dock leaves.”

“But it hurts . . . it hurts so much . . .”

“Fine, fine! I'll search for some dock leaves! You just remain silent!”

Mireille beamed, wiping away the sap and leaves from her blades.

“That was a tough fight.”

“It wasn't a fight, Mireille! Do not say anything so misleading!”

“Ehehe . . .”

Meanwhile, the only one not engaged in combat was Coco.

She was watching events unfold from the top of a dislodged boulder. There was no obvious change in her quiet expression, and yet a distance between her and her older classmates could now be felt that was greater than the mere metres which separated them.

“Coco is very disappointed,” she said.

Her voice cut through everyone more than the barbs on the stinging nettles ever could.

“I'm disappointed!” responded Yuela, her exasperation directed solely at the teacher who was standing beside Coco. “Why are we here? What are we doing? We're supposed to be knights! Instructor—”

“Olivia.”

“Olivia, you made it sound like you had an ulterior motive, but isn't gardening exactly what we're doing? Why did you request we clear this area of vegetation? It's so far from the trail that nobody would possibly wander here! . . . How did you even find this place?”

The newly discovered homeroom instructor brought her hands over her mouth and giggled.

“Lady Vlinder, you appear to be distressed.”

“W-Why are you calling me by that name? Why is our conduct reversed?”

“I'm merely respecting the reality of our statuses. I'm hardly fit to be called an instructor. But I believe you've been trained to expect a certain level of decorum?”

“I'm a student. I'm here exclusively to better myself, not to be treated as a member of the aristocracy.”

“Is that so? . . . In that case, Yuela, allow me to readily oblige.”

Olivia rested her palm against her cheek. Her ceaseless, balmy smile looked decidedly frightening when accompanied by the hoarse cries of Tabitha's torment still leaking throughout the air.

Yuela hesitated, but recovered enough to fold her arms. Her complaints hadn't even begun.

“Furthermore, I cannot clear away stinging nettles with my bow. Not even if I use the limbs as a sweeping instrument. It's completely unmanageable.”

“Oh dear. You have complaints about the nature of the lesson, but isn't this because you've come to class without your pencils and your pens? I never requested that you clear the nettles with your bow. Please feel free to utilise your auxiliary weapon.”

“I have no other weapons,” said Yuela, in a much smaller voice as she hid her twig behind her back.

“None whatsoever?”

“. . . None.”

Olivia clapped her hands in joy. Her picnic basket shook noiselessly, still hanging beneath her forearm.

“My, I'm overjoyed our time in the sunshine has already been so productive! It would seem that you can take from this lovely gardening session a reminder to always carry a secondary weapon with you. With that, you can avoid a repeat scenario where you have all these weeds and no way to remove them.”

“Another weapon would mean additional weight. It would mean a belt. A buckle. A sheath. It would spoil my balance.”

Olivia's eyes blinked innocently beneath her daisy wreathed hat.

“Your balance . . . ? Goodness, I had no idea you were a trapeze artist and not a knight cadet, Yuela. If you believe the added weight to be a concern, perhaps a diet is in order . . . ?”

“Ah . . . ah . . . ah . . . ?!”

As Yuela suffered from the unexpected blow to her gut, the ever smiling instructor turned her attention to Mireille. She stiffened at once. For some reason, Mireille felt an instinctive urge to salute.

“. . . Mireille, is it?”

“Yes, ma'am!”

“What a polite class. You don't need to call me ma'am, either. Olivia will do. Really.”

“Yes, ma'am! Olivia, ma'am!”

Olivia's eyes momentarily swept over Mireille's weapons.

“Two swords. Putting aside the unusual choice to pair a rapier with a cavalry sabre, why are you primarily using the latter?”

Mirielle peered down at her swords. The sabre was certainly more bloodied with green sap than the rapier, although it wasn't because she naturally favoured it. On the contrary, the lighter rapier often bore the brunt of her demands.

But that was against non-leafy opposition.

“Um, I think because the sabre is more efficient at gardening.”

“What would be more efficient is to utilise both. Why do you withhold the use of your rapier?”

Mireille gave it a moment's consideration.

“It'd take longer if I used both weapons. You asked us to make sure we didn't needlessly cut every shrub down. It takes time to spot the nettles. They're small and hard to pick out.”

“No smaller than the tip of a blade,” said Olivia, before instantly rubbing her arms with a shiver. “Goodness, that was terribly cliché, wasn't it? I'm sorry, it sounded far cooler in my head. Nevertheless, if you believe that stinging nettles in a shrub is hard to distinguish, you will find it harder to search out an incoming sword in the centre of a battle . . . Or so I hear.”

“Yes, Olivia, ma'am!”

“Accustom yourself to quickly identifying the nettles. Then incorporate your rapier into your routine. Do not make a habit of instinctively relying on your sabre for cutting motions. You will wear out your arm, and that would be the least of the issues you'd face. Irregularity is a dual wielders strength. Do not somehow allow predictability, of all things, to become a weakness.”

“I understand, Olivia, ma'am!”

Olivia nodded. She then turned her smile on Tabitha, who was still sprawled out in agony.

“. . . My apologies, but I have no idea what you're doing.”

“Nobody has any idea what she's doing!” cut in Yuela, as she searched for dock leaves in the nearby bushes.

Tabitha lifted up her head. She tried to put on a brave smile.

“Ah, well, I tried using strengthening magic to kick away the stinging nettles . . . but it turns out they were stronger . . . hehe.”

“Excuse me?!” Yuela decided to stop searching. “Your strengthening magic was defeated by common garden plants?! Is that what I'm hearing?! Coco used strengthening magic to play dolls with a giant phantasm! How could there be such a discrepancy between your abilities?!”

“Ehh, we all have our talents!”

“What's yours?! Being underwhelming?!"

Olivia softly giggled. Far from being an academy instructor overseeing scholarship students, she looked like a nursery teacher assessing how her two favourite rapscallions were getting along.

“What a lively class this is. I already feel so overjoyed at this appointment . . . Now, do tell me, Tabitha, what is your forte, if not in strengthening magic?”

“I set things on fire,” she answered proudly, even as Yuela could be heard groaning.

“Oh? You set things on fire?”

“Yup!”

Tabitha puffed up her cheeks and hummed, as though wondering if there was anything more she could add.

There wasn't.

Apparently, setting things on fire was pretty much what she did.

Seeing Tabitha's magic for the first time was something Mireille felt both anticipation and apprehension towards. She had a feeling that the next time there'd be an opportunity for her to display her not applicable skills, it wouldn't be while tucked away in the middle of the mountains and deeply removed from any crowded residential areas.

“I see,” said Olivia, seemingly accepting Tabitha's brief explanation with good grace. “And is there a reason you're not cindering the nettles?”

“Well, I suppose I could, but you said not to do away with all the shrubs, and I'm really not sure if I can do that? You know, fire and all . . .”

“Yes, I see the conundrum.”

“Plus, I totally haven't made my magic debut yet, and I feel it would be wasteful to use up such a dramatic event on bushes. Ahh, I really hope none of the teachers today asks for me to do any work . . .”

Tabitha shamelessly broke out into a wide smile, all the while Yuela examined a new bundle of stinging nettles she'd come across. She looked like she was considering launching them against Tabitha.

Still, Olivia merely continued to display her unerringly pleasant expression.

“Are you from outside Berylcross, Tabitha?”

“Mm! Coco and I are from the same charming, but otherwise featureless village out in the sticks.”

“That sounds lovely. I'm also from outside Berylcross, although my hometown is a little larger than a village. Just to confirm, is the strength of your fire invocations enough to ward away the large phantasms which abound beyond the city walls?”

“Heheh, well, sure! I'm still here, after all.”

“So you are. And did the rigours of village life rarely require you to control the finer aspects of your flames' radius, degree or volatility?”

“Not really. Usually when I set phantasms on fire, all that's important is that they're not there at the end. I mean, it's not like I set everything on fire. The village is kinda near the forest. But it's never been a problem before.”

“And yet it's a problem now. You would prefer to ineffectually tackle a simple deweeding task with your beautiful, runway model legs than to utilise your core talents. If the strength of your fire invocations is already at a sufficient level to conflagrate phantasms, I suggest you direct your future learning efforts into exerting finer control over your magic.”

Tabitha gratefully nodded while lifting her hand to her head. Unlike Mireille, she actually did salute.

“Got it! Smaller fires, yet in higher concentration!”

“Well, I didn't mention anything about increasing the concentration, but if you feel it would be manageable . . .”

“It'll be manageable! I'll turn a candle flame into a weapon of the apocalypse! Just watch!”

Olivia said no more, content to merely smile and nod as her acknowledgement. Then again, perhaps there was nothing anyone could say when met with the dangerous glint in Tabitha's eyes.

She turned to the little girl beside her.

“. . . Coco, yes?”

“Affirmative.”

“May I ask why you're not taking part in the gardening activities?”

“Coco lacks the appropriate attire required to sufficiently complete the task. She requests permission to return with the necessary pruning, digging and raking tools.”

“Perfect answer!” said Olivia with a click of her fingers. “You must never engage in a battle to which you're unprepared. Not when the option to retreat and initiate on your own terms is available.”

Tabitha jumped up at once, ignoring the supposed agony in her legs.

“Eh?! You mean she can get away with doing nothing?!”

“She is merely choosing to act at a more opportune time. The weeds are in a defensive posture, have limited ability to reinforce and pose no outward threat. Conversely, the nearest garden centre for you to resupply is twenty-five minutes away by foot. You were foolish to commit to the battle.”

“But . . . But you told us to!”

“Your point being?”

Olivia batted her eyelashes. Mireille thought she did a lot of cute gestures. Which would be okay, were it not for the fact that she seemed to be the same age as her mother.

When she imagined her mother batting her eyelashes, only bad things occurred in her stomach.

“We cannot countermand orders,” said Yuela, in a rare act of agreement with Tabitha. “When you issue a task, it is our duty to see it out to the best of our abilities.”

“Really now, I do not expect you to refuse an order, Yuela, merely to voice that a different avenue of approach is available. It is not insubordination to utilise your superior officers for this very purpose. That is what the command hierarchy is there for. And as I am currently the only voice of authority in the pyramid, you would be expected to bring your inquiries directly to me.”

With that, Olivia clapped her hands yet again. She was beginning to make it her trademark, along with her impenetrable smile.

“However, I believe that is already intruding on another class. Which one would that be, I wonder? Field Etiquette? . . . Well, no matter. I'm merely your homeroom teacher, so I should try my best to not step on the toes of my colleagues before I've even met them. Let's return to the matter of our homeroom activities.”

Mirielle shared the same thoughts as everyone else. That none of what they were doing constituted normal homeroom activities. And just like everyone else, she remained perfectly tight-lipped about it. She didn't want to inexplicably discover another valley filled with stinging nettles to garden.

Suddenly, Olivia gave a start.

“Oh dear, I almost forgot! What's the time?”

After several seconds, a familiar sigh reverberated throughout the valley. Yuela was the only one organised enough to wear a watch.

“Haaaaah . . . 11:37 a.m.”

“Goodness! Already? We should start heading back for lunch, then.”

Yuela tilted her head with an eyebrow raised.

“The lunch period begins at one o'clock. Will we continue homeroom at our designated classroom?”

“No, no. I intend for us to arrive precisely in time for lunch.”

“. . . My apologies, I don't quite understand? Even accounting for the time needed to descend the remainder of the mountain, it will only require a short train journey before we reach the academy.”

For some terrible, tragic reason, Olivia's smile seemed to be filled with a genuine puzzlement.

“Whoever said we were taking the train?”