Chapter 1 Basque - Orientation

“Look to your left. Look to your right. Only one of you will live to graduate.”

Basque balked at the opening of Headmaster Yasher’s commencement speech. Next to him, Julvie sat as rigidly as her well-pressed pink uniform. She didn’t so much as flinch. She reacted as she always did when the headmaster spoke—staring straight ahead with an impassive expression.

Looking around, Basque realized he was the only teacher to react to the proclamation that two-thirds of the incoming first-year class was expected to die before graduation. All of the teachers sat with that same unflinching, impassive look—all of them except for Natt. She sat slumped in her chair, asleep or passed out, Basque wasn’t sure which.

Looking away from the teachers, Basque surveyed the incoming student body. They had obediently looked to the left and right as instructed, but that was their only reaction. None of them seemed appalled by the announcement that two-thirds of them would be dead in five years’ time.

Breaking from her normal, rigid at-attention stance, Julvie placed her hand on Basque’s thigh. “Calm down. Just listen,” she whispered and removed her hand from his leg.

Basque sat back and did as he was told.

“...in the never-ending fight against the Yani. That leaves the last, the surviving group. You are the nobility of this kingdom. Your blood will protect this city, our wall, our people. That is what makes you noble.

“Most of you came to these halls as the sons and daughters of baronets and barons, counts and earls, even marquesses and dukes. You’ve lived a lavish life of luxury until now: countless servants, mansions, delicacies, and the highest quality of whatever your imagination could dream.

“You were afforded that luxury because it was your parents, grandparents, and ancestors who laid and continue to lay down their lives to protect the great nation of Kruami. And now, you too will fulfill the noble roles to which you were born.

“I welcome you, children, as boys and girls to Dyntril Academy. To those of you who survive, I will see you off as men and women, protectors of the realm.”

Headmaster Yasher bowed and took a step back from the podium. Krill, the deputy headmaster, stood. “All rise!”

Almost in perfect unison, the students and teachers rose. Only Basque and a handful of the students lagged a bit behind. Natt didn’t even stand. She sat slumped, asleep in her chair.

Basque listened as told, but he didn’t hear the part where it was explained why it was necessary for the majority of the students to die before graduation. Fighting Yani was dangerous, there was no doubt about that, but they were students. Yani hunters died.

The headmaster turned and left the auditorium. Once he was gone, Krill took the position behind the podium. “You all have received your room assignments. Curfew is twenty-one hundred hours. Tomorrow is the reception banquet. The following day, classes begin. Do not think you are safe these two days. Last year, classes started short two students. Dismissed.”

Basque’s eyes bulged out of his head. What sort of deathtrap had those parents sent their children to if two students died before classes had even started?! What sort of hellhole country had he been sent to as an ambassador?

The thunking and clunking of chairs pulled Basque out of his thoughts. To his left, the head of the first-years’ teachers, Ashkar, stood behind Natt, who was now awake but slumped on the floor. She glowered up at Ashkar, who held her chair in his hands.

“Wake up, Useless.”

She sneered at him and then looked over at Basque. “What are you looking at?” Stumbling to her feet, she stomped over to Basque and then slammed her shoulder into his chest, pushing him aside.

Ashkar laughed. “Gotta watch out for that one, you might get drunk off the fumes alone!”

Basque just watched as the bluish-lily-white hair of the enigma left out the teachers’ entrance. He felt an arm wrapped around his and looked down to see it was Julvie’s.

The pink-haired woman looked up to return Basque’s gaze. “Pay that no mind,” she said. “Thanks to you, we’re one step closer to kicking her out.”

Julvie tugged on his arm and spurred him into movement. Most of the other teachers and students had already exited. “So, Basque-Shr, is there anything in particular that you’re craving for dinner this evening when we go out?”

He smiled at the woman. She knew how to dress to accentuate her appearance. Her pink hair was done up in an elegant bun, and two long pink tendrils flowed down the sides of her face and rested on her shoulders. Her blouse was a soft pink that made her hair more vibrant. She had finished her outfit off with a white skirt that had a slight billow.

This was the first he’d heard of the meal with her tonight; however, it wasn’t the first time she’d invited him out this way. “Madam Julvie, I’ve only been here for two weeks, and I am still unfamiliar with all of Kruami’s cuisine. I’ll leave everything up to you.”

“I love a man who knows his place,” she said and laughed. “I’ll be sure to treat you to something nice.” She unlocked her arm from his and picked up her pace, leaving him behind.

A different arm found its way onto Basque’s body. The thick arm of Harnel rested across Basque’s shoulders. “You know, Basky, you know just what to do to keep that woman wrapped around your finger.”

Basque looked up at the hulk of a man. “Wrapped around my finger?” Basque looked at his index finger and then at the back of the woman stalking off in front of him.

Harnel laughed. “Bahaha! It’s an expression meaning that she’s in the palm of your hand.”

Basque opened his hand and looked at it in confusion. Harnel’s laughter escalated.

“I mean, you’re in the power position. She wants you and wants you bad.”

Finally, Basque understood. He wasn’t oblivious to her attraction or her advances. He wouldn’t pretend he wasn’t flattered. She was strikingly attractive, and from his conversations with her, Basque found her to be intelligent and engaging company. If the circumstances were even slightly different, he might have considered reciprocating her feelings.

But the circumstances weren’t different—they were exactly what they were. And that made it impossible. Morally, it wasn’t an issue. He was single—he and Rakelle had ended their relationship long before they’d left for Kruami. Physically, as he'd already acknowledged, that definitely wasn’t a concern. The problem was purely political.

Basque was an ambassador with a defined timeline. He was in Kruami for five years, after which he would return home to Hianbru, halfway across the world. Even if, in some distant future, she wanted to follow him, he already knew that was out of the question. It was forbidden by his government.

“It’s not my intention, and I’ve made my position clear to her previously.”

The arm wrapped around Basque’s shoulders patted his chest twice. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. Watch your back, though. She is a marchioness, and there are more than a few teachers in various grade levels aiming for her.”

“Thank you for the advice, Master Harnel.”

Harnel pulled his arm off of Basque, staggered, and clutched his chest like he’d been stabbed. “Mas…ter…” He righted himself and clasped Basque on the back. “I told you, Basky, just Harnel is fine. Hell, Harny, Nel, Bastard, any derivative works just fine for me! I’m a lift. I wasn’t born with my head in my ass like most of these guys.”

Basque smiled. “I find it ironic that the person I want to show the most honor to is the one who wishes for it the least.” It wasn’t only that. Basque knew that dropping titles in Kruami was considered rude, and he knew if he dropped them for one person, he’d forget and drop them for everyone.

Harnel returned the smile. “I don’t know quite what I’ve done to earn the honor. Only thing I can think of is constantly losing our spars. Speaking of which, you wanna go a couple rounds before your date with Pinkie?”

“What about the students?”

“What about ‘em?”

“Well, shouldn’t we help them move in or monitor them or anything?”

“That’s what the servants are for. A lot of the students will wander out to the training grounds anyway. Come on. Let’s show them all just how badass you are.”

Basque laughed. “Ha! Thanks for the invite, but I think I’m just going to wander around a bit and observe the students.”

“Bahaha! ‘Observe’! You do that, now. If you get bored of ‘observing’ the kids, come on out. I’ll be waiting for ya!”

The large man turned and went off towards the training ground. Basque continued on towards the Grand Entrance Hall. As the students would have to pass through there to get to their dorm halls, Basque figured that would be where he could see the largest groupings of students.

Basque’s jet-black hair made him stand out in Kruami, where hair of any color under the sun except for black could be found. On the couple of dates he’d had with Julvie, not only children, but adults as well would stop to stare at him. If the students saw him, he would become the topic of conversation, and he wanted to listen to what they usually talked about.

Keeping to the shadows, he was pleased to see that there were a good number of students loitering around. Most of them gathered in same-sex clusters and groups. Servants stood with downcast eyes just far enough away that they couldn’t easily overhear their master’s and mistress’s conversations, but not so far that a slightly raised voice wouldn’t reach them.

Picking up snippets of conversations, Basque was disappointed to hear that they were like miniature versions of Kruamian adult conversations. Despite the majority of students being twelve and thirteen-year-olds, they mostly conversed about the pecking order in their little groups and then comparisons between groups.

He’d only been here two weeks, but Basque could no longer count the number of times ranks had been brought up. He was tired of hearing about it and was disappointed to hear even younger Kruamians blabber on about it.

Staying out of sight, he wandered on until he found one pair of girls whose conversation made him perk up. They held hands as they walked down the grand hall, excitedly chatting about the Grand Entrance Hall and their dorm assignments.

One wore a luxurious dress, unique in its own way, yet still resembling those worn by the other girls in the Grand Entrance Hall. The other, however, wore a much simpler dress. It wouldn’t be mistaken for something a servant would wear, either on the job or off duty, but it was the simplest dress Basque had seen on someone of higher status.

“Holy Yani! Look over there! Has anyone else seen a lift pull up an elevator before?” A boy in one of the groups called out. The boys in his group and a couple of kids in groups nearby laughed.

The two girls Basque was watching fell silent, and the joyous look they’d worn vanished. A lift, as Harnel had called himself, was a commoner who’d successfully graduated from Dyntril Academy, “lifting” themselves into the ranks of nobility. An elevator was a student in Class E, the class made up solely of promising commoners who’d passed the rigorous entrance exam. His class. The class he would be teaching in two days.

Someone said something else, and there was more laughter. The girl with the cornflower blue hair and the nicer dress tried to pull her hand away, but the girl with blond hair and the poorer dress pulled the hand back. Basque didn’t need to flip through the notes stored in his interface to recognize the blond as Fawna Arstep, one of his students.

Even though he’d only planned on observing, Basque was unable to stand there and listen to insults being hurled at one of his students. Stepping out of the shadows, Basque went over to them. “Good day, ladies.”

“Oh!” they said in unison. They looked at him, and the cornflower blue-haired girl blushed. “Good day, sir.”

“I am Basque Gerenet. I am the ambassador from Hainbru. Please call me Gerenet-Shr.”

“Hi,” the blond said. “I’m Fawna Arstep.”

“Hello. I am Avali, daughter of Baron Magnus the Long Pole,” the other girl said. “It is an honor to meet the illustrious Master Gerenet-sure.” Avali curtsied.

Fawna mimicked her friend but was nowhere close in elegance. He recognized Avali’s name as well. On a date with Julvie, she’d spent time wondering how the daughter of such a low-ranking noble could make it into Class A.

“It’s actually pronounced more like ‘sir’ with an ‘h’ in it.”

“Shr?” Fawna said.

“Exactly.”

“Sure?” Avali said.

“Shr.”

“Sure.”

“Almost. Shr.”

“Shr.”

“Excellent, Miss Avali.”

The girl blushed again.

Around them, most of the other students had fallen silent, and Basque noticed them trying to surreptitiously listen to their conversation. As his decision to introduce himself had been impulsive, he’d not thought out what to do next. He figured a distraction might prevent the bullying from coming back.

“Would you ladies care to go to the training grounds with me? Master Harnel has asked me to spar with him.”

“Harnel the Fist?” Avali asked. Her face lit up.

Basque nodded.

“He’s one of my father’s friends! We were just about to go look for him!” Avali said.

“What a coincidence!” Basque said. He looked around at the other students who now made no pretense that they weren’t eavesdropping. “Would you all like to come watch?”

There was a chorus of “yeses”.

Basque strode through the middle of the Grand Entrance Hall. Conversations halted as he passed, and more groups joined the trek to the training grounds.

“You two seem like great friends,” Basque said to Fawna and Avali. The two girls walked slightly behind him, still holding hands.

It was Fawna who answered. “Our dads were friends before Avali’s became nobility.”

One of the other groups snickered.

“Master Gerenet-Shr, Fawna made it into the academy on her own. When she graduates, we will both be noble.” Basque couldn’t tell who Avali was saying that for, him, those following, or herself.

“Shr is an honorific for teachers in Hainbru, Miss Avali. It’s not part of my name, so you ladies may call me either ‘Master Gerenet’ or ‘Gerenet-Shr’. I’m not particularly concerned with which you address me.”

“Can…can I learn Hianbruian?”

Basque looked over his shoulder at the girl with cornflower blue hair. “You want to learn Hianb?”

She nodded. He turned around. There was no use in telling her he couldn’t. He changed the subject. “So, Fawna, you’re in Class E with me?”

“Yes, sir.” She sounded surprised.

“Well, I look forward to spending a lot of time with you.”

Basque could hear the disappointment in Avali’s voice. “Oh? Are you the elevator class’s teacher this year?”

He nodded. He wanted to push back, to tell her it was “Class E” and not the “elevator” class, but it wasn’t his job. They didn’t seem to see the term as derogatory. He could only push the bounds of his mandates so far.

“Oh! Fawna! How lucky for you. I wonder who my teacher will be.”

“I hope you aren’t in my class, Cornflower,” a boy’s voice echoed out.

Basque paused for a step. Two minutes hadn’t passed, and once again, he was debating his responsibilities. First was his responsibility as a teacher, which cried out for him to admonish the speaker. The second was his responsibility as an ambassador. He was there to learn their culture and exemplify his, not convert them to it.

He gnawed on the inside of his cheek, and the first responsibility won out. He would not tolerate bullying. Stopping, he spun on his heels and looked at the students following him.

“Let it be heard now, I will not tolerate comments such as those. Your normal Kruamian teachers might allow them to pass, but I will not.” He looked in the direction the comment had come from. “Those who make such comments within my earshot will be joining me for morning runs for a month.”

A hand in the back went up.

“Yes?”

“Master, do you have the authority to do so?”

If there was one thing Basque had learned about Kruamian society was their emphasis on hierarchy. “You are students, I am a teacher. That should answer that question. If you feel like you can get another teacher to override me, then I will resolve it with the Hianb method of disagreement.”

Basque turned and returned to leading the way to the training fields.

“What is the Hianb way of solving things?” Avali asked.

“Combat.”

The students fell silent for the rest of the way.

As they approached the grounds, the sounds of sparring and the clanging of weapons against training dummies rang through the hallway. Students in training uniforms battled and trained across the grounds. All of the students wore insignias designating them as members of the second through fifth-year classes. As Basque scanned for Harnel, he watched the older students spar or practice their skills and abilities.

There was a lot of talent in the fields. However, his scan showed that while many students were incredibly powerful, they were all disappointingly slow.

Harnel found Basque first. “Gerenet-Shr!” He waved for Basque from one of the back fields. He was monitoring a few students who were practicing their moves on wooden dummies. The sweat gleaning on his shirtless body revealed the fact that he’d been training as well.

“Master Harnel, I told the students that you challenged me to a spar, and they seemed quite interested in watching.”

“Oh ho? Well, students, you’re in for a treat.” He turned to the drilling kids. “Clear the field!”

They immediately stopped their training and backed away. As they did so, Basque hopped over the divide and stood in the field.

“Gerenet-Sure,” a boy with aquamarine hair called out. “What are you?”

When Harnel had previously asked him, Basque had been confused. It was then that he learned that Kruamians pick a specialty and train solely in it. “What would you like me to be?”

“I don’t understand.”

“What’s your name?”

“Merk.”

“Well, Merk, we know that Master Harnel is a fist. Would you like to see me fight him with his specialty?”

The boy nodded enthusiastically, but the boy next to him perked up, “Does that mean you think you could take Master Harnel with a sword?”

“So, you would like to see me with a sword?”

Basque saw the confusion on the students’ faces. “We’ll keep it simple today. Merk has asked for me to fight unarmed, so I shall do just that.”

There was a murmur among the students. Even some of the older students stopped their training and made their way over to the battle between teachers.

“Three minutes?” Harnel asked.

“If you wish,” Basque answered. A duel offer came to him over the interface. One Round. Three minutes. Shielded. Public . Basque accepted it, and a scoreboard appeared in the air between them. It listed their names and had a red bar beneath them, signifying their remaining shield level. A large 180 sat in between their names.

Harnel nodded.

Basque held out his fists. Harnel raised an eyebrow. “Are you not going to show the students your cool thing?”

Basque shook his head.

“Well, get ready to bust it out when you cry for a rematch.”

“Ha!” Basque laughed. Harnel had yet to beat him.

As the two had done for all their spars, Harnel tapped his fists against Basque’s, indicating the start of the match, and the three-minute timer began its countdown. However, unlike every time before, instead of hopping back, Harnel immediately struck out and laid a fist into Basque’s jaw. Basque staggered back as his vision flashed blue. He didn’t feel the pain from the attack, but he still felt the force of it.

“Sorry, Basque-Shr, I just wanted to make sure I got one in.”

Basque put his guard up and eased towards Harnel. Despite his opponent’s size, Harnel was light on his feet as he backed away to the right. Basque mirrored his movements; the pair rotated counter-clockwise.

Harnel feinted with his right hand, then struck with his left after Basque moved to dodge the first attack. Despite Harnel’s speed, Basque recovered in time to deflect the real attack, leaving Harnel open. Basque landed two quick blows on Harnel’s sides.

Opting to forgo any defense, Harnel used Basque’s attack to counterattack and swung at Basque’s head. Basque ducked and hopped away, out of Harnel’s reach. A “Whoa!” rose from the crowd of students watching.

“Don’t let him run from you, Master Harnel!” a student shouted.

Harnel and Basque ignored the spectators. Their eyes were locked on each other. Basque knew that Harnel’s power would be overwhelming in fights against Yani, but he didn’t quite have the speed needed to connect with Basque, not with the strength that he put into it at any rate.

“Speed, Harnel,” Basque said in a voice that wouldn’t carry to the spectators.

A powerful strike came from Harnel’s right hand, and Basque stepped out of its path and right into the much faster left-hand strike that Basque had failed to notice.

Harnel’s fist connected with Basque’s ribs. While it wasn’t strong enough to put him down, it did stagger him. Basque smiled. “Good! You’re learning. Next, let’s work on combos.”

“Are you my teacher now?”

“Do you want me to be?”

Basque unleashed a flurry of fists and kicks, each one forcing an opening for the next one to land any time Harnel managed to block or dodge.

There was a collective gasp from the gallery. At the end of Basque’s combo, Harnel was standing but swaying on his feet. After cracking his neck and rotating his shoulders in a circle, Harnel’s stance became steady again.

“Again,” Harnel said and waved for Basque to come.

Basque obliged and repeated the combo: left-fist, right-fist, knee, fist, kick, sweep, kick, punch, punch, punch. This time, Harnel managed to block the first six moves of it.

“Better, but don’t think that’s the only combo I have.”

Harnel grunted and waved for Basque to go again. Just as Basque stepped into the opening move of his secondary combo, the scoreboard fell between them, proclaiming Basque to be the winner. Pulling up, instead of punching, Basque extended his hand and Harnel shook it.

“We need to spar more often,” the larger man said with a grin.

“You’re more than welcome to join my lessons when I teach unarmed combat to my class.”

Harnel laughed. “Be one of your students?”

“If you want.”

Clasping Basque’s shoulder, Harnel said, “I’ll think on it.”

Basque nodded and went back to the group of first-years who’d followed him. “What’d you girls think?”

Their eyes sparkled. One of the boys blurted out, “Are you going to be a combat teacher?”

Basque shifted his focus from Avali and Fawna to the direction of the voice. “No, I’m Class E’s teacher.”

The expression on the students’ faces fell. “The elevators? What a waste,” the boy said again.

The urge to say something came up inside him, but Basque shoved it down. Not my culture.

Basque felt the weight of a sword tapping him on his shoulder. He turned around to see Krill standing there with his blade out.

“Gerenet-Shoore.”

“Master Krill.”

“We’ve yet to have the pleasure of sparring. Would you care to put your fists up against my blade?”