The Protagonist’s Party is Too Diligent – 37
EP.37 Hunting (1)
“Do you know what the most glorious battlefield of all is?”
True to form, Jennifer led the entire class out to the field as soon as her lesson began, just like she had done on the very first day of class. It seemed the concept of a “curriculum” didn’t exist in her mind.
I was pretty sure we received textbooks when we first entered the academy, but we hadn’t even cracked them open. If we weren’t going to use them, why hand them out in the first place? It just made our bags heavier every morning.
Still, I wasn’t particularly surprised. I already knew what kind of person Jennifer was.
Jennifer was the kind of character who acted as a sort of device, enabling players to engage in “gameplay” during “class time.”
A student’s role, naturally, was to study. But if the game only focused on students studying, it would be incredibly boring. This wasn’t some dating sim or a trivia game about lore, after all.
So, the game significantly minimized the study portions and created opportunities for “combat time” during class.
Through that process, conflicts between characters became more pronounced, and the one who effectively utilized those conflicts was none other than Jennifer Winterfield.
Of course, if every single lesson consisted of gathering the students for duels, the story wouldn’t progress either. That’s why, while the early parts introduced the characters through such sessions, later chapters exploded with accidents.
“Hmm.”
None of the students raised their hands.
And I knew exactly who Jennifer was going to call on.
The person she pointed to—
“Leo Grace!”
That’s right. Leo Grace.
He was the protagonist, and according to the backstory, Baron Grace had been Jennifer’s childhood role model. Although her favoritism wasn’t blatant, there were subtle hints that she felt some level of affinity towards him. Of course, Leo had no knowledge of this backstory and likely thought the teacher was picking him at random.
Oh, now that I think about it, in the original game, depending on the choices, Leo could end up dueling Jennifer. Maybe this was normal after all. Considering how Jennifer and Leo had sparred just a few days ago, it didn’t feel like a coincidence that he was chosen again this time. In reality, it wasn’t random at all.
“Ah, yes.”
Leo stood up with a look that said he’d been unfairly chosen, but Jennifer didn’t seem to care.
“What do you think is the most glorious battlefield?”
“Uh…”
Here’s where the choices appear.
It didn’t matter which one you picked. Each of the three options had its own reasoning, but they were all wrong in the context of Jennifer’s question.
“The battlefield of the North, perhaps?”
True to his diligent nature, Leo pondered deeply before finally giving his answer.
So, he chose the first option.
The other two choices were the southern and western battlefields. The south was still underdeveloped, with continuous skirmishes between local tribes, while the west was the coast. While the coastline itself was relatively safe, the deeper waters were teeming with pirate ships preying on trade vessels heading for the New World.
All three choices were about maintaining imperial order, but the particularly imperialistic tone of the southern battlefield—due to the clashes with the “natives”—led fans of the game to jokingly call it the “Imperialist Route” on certain niche forums. Not that it really affected the game’s endings or story progression.
In one of the sequels, there was even a storyline focusing on the conflicts in the southern Empire, where Leo, rather than siding with imperial forces, earnestly helped the natives.
“Hmm.”
Jennifer, who had served in the north, seemed intrigued by Leo’s response.
“And may I ask why?”
She inquired.
“Yes. The northern front borders the Autonomous State of Rickland. However, the autonomous state is extremely unstable, lacking the ability to properly secure the area near the Empire’s borders. As a result, local warlords frequently cross into imperial territory. Thus, the soldiers stationed there, constantly vigilant to protect the Empire’s citizens, surely serve on the most glorious battlefield.”
“I see.”
Jennifer nodded in satisfaction.
” Yes, those so-called warlords are essentially mercenaries who are not employed by any particular group. They’ll do anything for money, no matter how dirty the task. Facing such men is certainly an honorable duty. However…”
Jennifer looked Leo straight in the eye.
“…That glory is only earned once you’ve returned alive, or as a corpse brought back. The battlefield itself holds no glory. But it was a good answer. You may sit.”
Leo visibly relaxed as he returned to his seat.
“The battlefield—ah, right.”
Jennifer paused mid-sentence.
Hmm.
Usually, this was the part where she’d launch into a speech about her personal philosophy. She’d never interrupted herself like this before. Then her gaze shifted toward me.
“Sylvia Fangriffon. Stand up.”
“……”
Why me?
Of course, I didn’t actually say that out loud. It wasn’t exactly strange for a teacher to call on a student, after all. At least it was more reasonable than an Emperor sending a fourteen-year-old girl to act as his representative in a diplomatic meeting.
I stood up without a word, and Jennifer looked at me quietly before asking.
“What do you think? Where is the most glorious battlefield?”
“…”
I really hate giving presentations.
Back in college, I would always take on the entire slideshow for group projects, but I’d still let someone else do the presentation. Even if presenting earned the highest grade, I avoided it at all costs.
Because if I said the wrong thing, it would be humiliating.
Of course, I knew what answer Jennifer wanted. After playing through the game a few times, I started skipping the event scenes. However, on my second playthrough, I decided to revisit the story to ensure I fully understood it, particularly the dialogue, for my translations.
This particular scene was one I replayed several times, just to confirm which of the three choices was the correct one.
“…There is no glorious battlefield.”
Yes, that was the answer Jennifer was looking for. If Headmaster Abraham Winterfield were here, he would’ve blown up at such a response.
“Oh?”
Jennifer’s eyes narrowed as she observed me.
A slight smile curved on her lips, as though she was pleased with the answer. I had chosen it thinking that, if I were going to be embarrassed, it might as well be for the right answer rather than a wrong one.
I did wonder though, what Jennifer’s reaction would be if I came up with a fourth option.
“And why do you think that?”
Jennifer pressed again.
“The battlefield is hell. There can be no place of glory in hell. Surviving and returning from it might be glorious, but nothing else.”
This world was in a period roughly equivalent to the interwar era. It was an era transitioning from line infantry tactics to modern warfare, where soldiers took cover and engaged in long-range gunfire.
The world had just begun to see tanks and aircraft of a more modern style, but there were no precision weapons that could smartly take out just what was needed. Barbed wire, trenches, and bunkers filled the battlefields, and thousands of soldiers would charge the enemy’s trenches, only to be mowed down by machine guns. Above them, mortar and artillery shells would fall unpredictably, and if you got hit directly, there wouldn’t even be a body left to recover.
In the no-man’s-land between the trenches, corpses were strewn about carelessly.
Flamethrowers, poison gas, landmines, machine guns—these were all terrifying weapons for flesh-and-blood soldiers to face, yet the means to accurately take them out were severely limited.
Even in the modern wars of Earth, battlefields were hellish, but this world’s wars, which resembled a form of total war, were a different kind of nightmare.
“…”
Jennifer’s expression softened, just slightly.
She took a few steps closer, looking me straight in the eyes.
“…I see.”
She nodded to herself, as if coming to an understanding.
“Yes, you’re right. The battlefield is hell. The days of knights clashing with swords are long gone—a relic of old stories.”
Though, even those wars fought with swords and shields were undoubtedly hell in their own way.
“Sit down.”
Following her command, I sat back down. I could feel the stares from my classmates burning into me, but I ignored them.
“I don’t know how many of you will survive the battlefield. Frankly, it’s not something you can learn by studying. No matter how much I teach you my own strategies and experiences, you’ll never fully master them. When you’re out there in the field, you’ll adapt to survive in your own way.”
Jennifer’s gaze swept over the students as she added.
“I don’t know how many of you will even become soldiers. But at the very least, my class is meant to prepare you to be soldiers. And the most important skill for a soldier is the ability to survive any trial, no matter how unpredictable.”
The reason Jennifer had gathered us for a sparring match from day one was clear—she was always sincere about her words. As someone who had experienced the battlefield firsthand, she believed in teaching us how to face unforeseen trials.
“And so today, you will learn how to confront unpredictable challenges.”
She said, her smile returning. Beaming, Jennifer spread her arms wide, almost like a theater director introducing actors on stage.
“Your sparring partners for today will be the commoners from that class over there.”
Right on cue, Class C, made up of commoner students, emerged from the building. The reason they were coming out later than us was simple—Jennifer had suddenly changed the class schedule. It wasn’t that she had stolen their opportunity; rather, she had coordinated with another teacher so that Class A and Class C would have overlapping schedules.
“…Instructor?”
One student nervously raised their hand, prompting Jennifer to turn her head towards them.
“Yes, what is it?”
Looking uncertainly at the approaching Class C students, the student asked.
“Aren’t those students commoners?”
“Indeed, they are. Is there a problem with that?”
Jennifer responded.
The student, still unsure of the situation, glanced at the approaching commoner students with a worried expression before asking.
“But… commoners don’t have a formal training, do they? Can the way they fight really be considered a ‘challenge’ for us?”
A few students chuckled quietly at that remark.
“Oh? Is that so? And yet, Her Highness Princess Sylvia over there doesn’t use any weapon that belongs to a formal school either.”
“…”
Jennifer’s biting sarcasm instantly silenced the room.
It was true—among commoners, only a very small number trained in formal schools to learn swordsmanship, spear techniques, or magic. In other words, most commoners used weapons that were easier to wield without formal training.
As the students from Class C came into clearer view, the truth of Jennifer’s words became evident. Most of them carried rifles or hunting shotguns slung over their shoulders. While many of these firearms were civilian-grade rather than military-issued—
“……”
—That was more than enough to silence the noble students.