Steel, Guns, and the Industrial Party in Another World - Chapter 455

Chapter 455: The Principal Takes Office 3

After attending the simple reception hosted by the town mayor, Makarov and his wife settled into the residence provided by the town government.

The next day, the couple got up early.

His wife prepared to entertain the wives of other prominent figures in the town — as previously mentioned, those in charge of education now held a high social status everywhere.

It was a Monday, and Makarov immediately started his new job.

In the morning, he arrived at his new school, located in the southeastern part of Northwatch Town. The school occupied a large, square area, surrounded by red brick walls, containing a two-story building and a warehouse.

According to the information Makarov had received, the school had over 200 students divided into four classes.

The school’s three teachers welcomed him at the gate.

“Good day, Principal Makarov. I am Flano Deko, the language teacher here. These two are Mr. Kori Holly, the mathematics teacher, and Ms. Feli Abdullah, another language teacher,” said a scholarly-looking man with a handlebar mustache, introducing the teachers to the new principal.

“Thank you all for your hard work!” Makarov expressed his gratitude.

“This is our duty, what we ought to do,” they replied.

Makarov shook hands with each teacher and followed them to the principal’s office prepared for him.

“Since we have only one mathematics teacher, I will also take on the role of a math teacher to alleviate Mr. Holly’s workload,” Makarov offered.

Kori Holly thanked him for his offer.

Makarov waved his hand and continued, “Additionally, I will teach a course in ideological and political education.”

“Ideological and political education?”

The three teachers were puzzled, having never heard of such a subject.

“Yes, a course responsible for shaping the worldview, life philosophy, and values of the students,” Makarov explained.

The teachers seemed to understand, likening it to the role of a missionary.

“Now, Mr. Deko and Mr. Holly, did you see the carriage I arrived in outside? Please help me carry some items from it. We need to install them in each classroom.”

…

In the afternoon, all the teachers and students gathered in the small auditorium on the first floor.

The students curiously observed their burly new principal, who had exchanged his Alda military uniform for casual attire.

The small auditorium was actually the largest classroom, with a blackboard on the western wall.

Now, above the blackboard hung a portrait.

To be precise, it was a half-length portrait.

Feli Abdullah quietly asked Flano Deko, “Mr. Deko, the person in that painting… looks like the lord. I’m not mistaken, am I?”

Mr. Deko nodded, “You’re not mistaken. I confirmed with Principal Makarov. That is indeed Lord Grayman.”

“But…” Feli whispered, covering her mouth, “If I’m not mistaken, isn’t Lord Grayman only eighteen this year?”

The man in the painting had a profound and slightly world-weary gaze, appearing mature and reliable, almost a different person from the young and naive count in reality.

“Cough! Artistic liberty, artistic liberty,” someone murmured.

Principal Makarov picked up a piece of chalk and turned to write a large word on the blackboard.

Loyalty!

“Now!”

Makarov, using the commanding voice he had developed during military training, silenced the room.

“We will now begin the first lesson in ideological and political education! The first thing I will teach you is — what is loyalty!”

Makarov had transitioned to a position in education with a special mission, like other military personnel who had moved into the educational field. Their special task was to imprint the belief of “loyalty to Paul Grayman” firmly in the hearts of the growing children.

For this purpose, before leaving the army, the instructors repeatedly trained Makarov and others, and each was given a copy of “Outline of Ideological and Political Education” to study carefully, along with a half-length portrait of Count Grayman.

Thus, Makarov, the former lieutenant and platoon leader, now the principal of the Northwatch Public School, began his new life in Northwatch Town.

He spent his days traveling between home and school and occasionally supervising the militia in training, enjoying his life.

However, an unexpected message disrupted this tranquility.

The news was brought by the militia captain, Kajit, while Makarov was teaching first-grade students arithmetic. Kajit burst into the classroom, breathless.

“Lieutenant, lieutenant, there’s an emergency!”

Makarov put down his textbook. “What’s the matter? Don’t rush, speak slowly.”

“Two lumberjacks reported seeing savages in the forest north of the town.”

“Savages?”

Makarov was surprised; weren’t they creatures of legend?

“Are you sure they weren’t mistaken?”

“They’re sure. These two lumberjacks are reliable men; they wouldn’t lie.”

“And the savages had weapons.”

“Weapons? How many of them?”

Makarov became serious.

“The witnesses said at least ten. They fled back to town to report, fearing discovery, so the exact number is uncertain.”

“Alright, immediately gather two platoons of men. One will guard all the town entrances, and the other, led by us, will search the north.”

“Yes, sir!” Kajit saluted and hurried off to summon the men.

The school’s teachers and students were surprised to see their new principal change into his military uniform.

Soon, a group of militia formed up on the school’s playground — which also served as the militia’s training ground. Most of them carried spears, some had swords and shields, and a few bore longbows and quivers.

Makarov quickly approached the troops.

Kajit stepped forward to report, “Report, lieutenant, 32 of the Northwatch Town militia’s first platoon are present and accounted for! Awaiting orders.”

“Good!” Makarov nodded, pleased with the militia’s prompt assembly.

“Today, as Kajit may have informed you, we are going to search the forests north of the town for savages. We know they are at least ten in number and armed with metal weapons.”

The militia remained silent, neither asking questions nor whispering among themselves. Their expressions varied; some were surprised, others curious, and some excited.

Makarov asked loudly, “Now, does anyone have any questions?”

Silence indicated there were none.

“Good! Let’s move out!”

With a wave of Makarov’s hand, Kajit relayed the command, “Attention! Right turn! Quick march!”

The militia, moving in unison, quickly left the school playground in a single file.