The Exchange Teacher - Welcome to Dyntril Academy

Basque pulled a towel out of his robe and wiped his mouth. The students were looking at him. Someone from behind him cried out, "Learn to hold your drink!" Down in the arena, Islae continued to scream while holding her bleeding stump.

"Ladies and Gentlemen! We have our first winner! Let's hear it for Mister Steth!"

The crowd roared. No one rushed out to care for the wounded girl. Basque's heart was racing. She was a second-year.

Going down two rows, Basque tapped the second-years' teacher, Dafnea, on the shoulder. She turned and looked at him. She wore a huge smile as she said, "Hi, handsome!"

Basque froze. The daffodil-haired teacher's eyes had a haze to them. Is she…high?

"Miss Dafnea?"

"Hi, handsome!"

"What's happening to Islae? Aren't you going to go help?"

"My darling told me to stay here." She put her hand on his leg. "No matter how handsome you are, I'm not supposed to go with you."

"What?" Was this woman really a teacher? He felt guilty for every negative thought he had towards Natt.

"Master Basque," a voice called out.

Basque turned to look at who called him. It was the fourth-years' teacher, Aevari. The azure-haired man had a sunken look on his face, like he'd given up on everything.

"Miss Dafnea isn't all there. You won't get much from her. Did you have a question?" Aevari looked more bored than concerned, like Basque's interaction with Dafnae was a nice interruption in his daily monotony.

Basque had no idea what was going on with the teachers, but that wasn't his concern. Having someone to ask, Basque pressed the man, "What's going to happen to the student?"

"To who? Islae?"

"Yes."

Medical aid was just now reaching the girl.

Aevari shrugged. "Well, she's lost her hand. She won't be able to fight anymore, so I can only guess she'll be expelled, that is, assuming she doesn't die from blood loss here. Though they might keep her around until she dies, I'm not sure; I've never seen an injury like this to a Class E student." The man's response didn't feel as apathetic as his words made it seem. Just like his whole look and demeanor, it felt more tired than anything.

But from the answer, Basque knew that the school's reaction would be apathetic. Reaching into his robe, Basque pulled out his communication device. The first person he called was Tyze.

While he waited for Tyze to answer, Basque headed down the stairs. He'd left the stands and made it to the corridor when Tyze finally answered.

"You could have done a better job teaching me how to use this thing," Tyze complained.

"Tyze! Where are you?"

"I'm in the medical tent, why?"

"The girl, Islae, what's going to happen to her? Where is she? How is she?"

"She's the ele—commoner, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, they'll probably cauterize the wound to stop the bleeding and leave it at that."

"That's it? They won't reattach the hand?"

"Reattach the hand? Are you serious? Something that advanced is saved only for the highest of nobles."

"Get the girl and get her hand. Meet me at the section with the Hianbrun ambassadors." Basque ended the call. He was making his way around the colosseum to where he saw the Hianbruns sitting. Previously, he'd wished that she wasn't there, but now he was hoping that she was.

He called Rakelle. "Come on. Pick up, pick up!"

The device beeped. "Basque?"

"Rakelle, are you at the tournament?"

There was a pause. "Yes, they've dragged us to this barbaric event."

"Go out to the corridor. I've got the girl."

There was another pause. "Okay."

By the time Basque got to the section he'd seen his countrymen in, Tyze was there, cradling the unconscious, injured girl. Only a few people lingered in the corridor since the next match was beginning. Rakelle came out of the stands and into the corridor as Basque got to Tyze.

Rakelle looked at Basque, then at Tyze and the girl. She looked around, then pointed at the women's restroom. "In there."

Tyze and Basque followed Rakelle.

"Put her on the counter. Basque, keep everyone out."

The two men did as they were told. The young teen's breath was labored. Basque was so tempted to turn and watch Rakelle work, but he had a job. Two women did come to use the restroom, but Basque turned them away, saying it was closed for repairs.

After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only five minutes, Rakelle tapped him on the shoulder. "I'm done."

Basque went back in to look at the injured girl. As he entered, Tyze took the position as door guard.

Islae's breathing was much more stable, but she still wasn't conscious.

"I told you when you called me last time, I can't keep doing this, Basque. She's not even one of your students, is she?"

"Does it matter? She's, what, thirteen-fourteen years old? They have the technology here to save her, but they were going to cauterize her wound and then just leave her."

Rakelle took a deep breath. "We can't save everyone here, Basque."

"I know that, but we should still save who we can!"

Clearing his throat to get their attention, Tyze raised his hand and stepped further into the bathroom. "Sorry to interrupt, but I'm doubtful that there will be many more injuries like this."

Basque looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"Well, when I collected her and her hand, I was told that time expired right before the killing blow. She was unfortunate that she was left alive."

Rage flashed through Basque. He wanted to lift the man by his neck again. The only thing unfortunate about the girl's life was being born in this Yani-hole. Rakelle put her hand on his shoulder. Her face was pale.

"She'll be fine. I can't…" Her voice was a whisper, and her eyes were wet, but she wasn't crying. In the same shaky voice, she said, "Basque, I'm leaving." She shook her head and cleared her throat, then in a more normal voice finished, "I can't stay here and watch any more of this."

"What?! Rakelle! What if there are others?"

She looked at Tyze, then back at Basque. "He's a nurse, right?"

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Basque nodded.

"You trust him, right?"

He nodded again.

Rakelle held out her medical bag to Tyze. The bald nurse took it. "You should be able to use most of that. I've seen your medical stuff. If it looks like what you think it is, then it is. Just let the interface do the work for you. I'll be back on the last day of the…'tournament' to get it."

She took a step to leave, but Basque put his hand on her shoulder. "Rakelle, thank you."

Rakelle turned and put her hand on Basque's chest. She leaned in as if she was going to kiss him, but stopped. Instead of kissing him, she whispered in Hianb, "<This is what I love about you, Basque. I love your heart, but it's not mine anymore. I can't look after what it cares for. I'm going back to Hianbru soon, so you need to figure out how to solve your problems without me.>"

Pulling her closer, Basque hugged her, squeezing her in tight. "<Thank you, Rakelle. I'll always love you.>" It was true, even before they dated, he loved her as a friend and would always love her as one.

She hugged him back, then pulled away.

"I'm sorry to interrupt this…special moment," Tyze said as he rubbed his hair-free head, "but, what are we going to do with Miss Islae?"

"What do you mean?" Basque asked. Too much was happening for him to process his emotions. He just needed facts.

"Well, I was able to get her because the head nurse proclaimed that she was to be left as she was. He said it would be a less cruel fate if we just let her die, so I told him I would take her to put her out of her misery. She's going to be registered as dead. She can't just go back."

Basque looked at Rakelle.

"Don't look at me, Basque, this is your mess that you're making. I've already done my part."

Clenching his fists, Basque growled, "She's a person, not a mess!"

"Holy Yani, Basque! You know what I mean! She's not a mess. This whole situation and country is."

His hands went loose, and his eyes flicked from Rakelle to Tyze, and back to Rakelle. "I need help," he pleaded. "I've been away from my class for too long as it is. I can't look after her right now." He looked at Tyze.

The nurse shook his head. "My hands are tied, too. I've got to get back to the medical tent. It's going to be nobles versus nobles soon, and they'll want all hands for that."

Basque turned back to Rakelle.

"No, Basque! I'm leaving!"

"Can't you just take her with you?"

"Take her with me? And do what?"

"Find her family? Send her home?"

"I don't have that sort of freedom or time!" Rakelle waved her arms in frustration.

"Fine! Then take her to my room! Can you at least do that?"

Rakelle calmed down. "I can do that." She walked back into the bathroom and picked up the unconscious girl. "I won't be able to stay with her until she wakes up."

"That's fine," Basque said. "I trust Sophia to care for her if she does wake up." Despite his lingering doubts about Sophia's motives, her care for the students was genuine.

"Take care of yourself after I'm gone, Basque."

"Thank you, Rakelle."

He watched Rakelle cradle the girl down the corridor. After they vanished from his sight, Basque turned to Tyze. "Thank you, too, Tyze."

The nurse shook his head. "Are you kidding? I should be thanking you. I just looked at the equipment that lady gave me, and I'd have to be a personal physician for at least a marquess before I could get some of this stuff. Most of it is for the archdukes and the king and queen."

"I trust you to use it in a way that won't get you or my friend in trouble."

Tyze nodded. "I'm going to pretty much consider it to be 1-E's supplies."

The two men left the bathroom and went their separate ways. By the time Basque got back to his seat, the preliminary round of the second-years was over. Steth, the boy who'd severed Islae's hand, was back in the arena. His opponent was a staff-wielding boy from Class A.

While he was gone, someone had cleaned up Basque's breakfast, something that he was grateful for. Steth's second match and his opponent's first didn't start with an insane advantage, as he had previously.

The grand introduction was dropped, and each participant was announced as they stepped into the arena. They didn't march to the middle first, but began on opposite sides.

Having to face a more prepared opponent, Steth wasn't only on the offensive. Rather, he was almost entirely on the defensive. Hayard, Steth's Class A opponent, looked almost bored as his staff chipped away at Steth's shield. As the swordsman's shield whittled away, Hayard's attacks became flashier and grander, playing to the crowd.

Soon, the crowd was chanting, "Hay-ard! Hay-ard! Hay-ard!"

The boy began pointlessly twirling his staff and waving at the crowd. Steth took advantage of the showboating and, in a flurry of strikes, he took half of Hayard's health. Hayard roared and stopped messing around. He smashed Steth's shield down to 0 in one strike, ending the protected round.

The two separated during the three-second reset, then the fifteen seconds of unprotected battle began. Even from his seat up high, Basque could see the desperation in Steth's movements, trying to keep Hayard at bay. When the crowd got to "three" in their countdown, Hayard's staff made solid contact with Steth's head, and the boy went down in a heap.

"Winner! Marchioness Haidee's third son, Hayard!" the announcer proclaimed, and the crowd roared. Medical staff rushed out with a stretcher and picked up the unconscious form of the boy from Class D.

The other three fights against the Class A students went in a similar fashion. Even the girl from Class B didn't last long against her opponent from Class A. None of the other losers to Class A lost as poorly to their opponent as Steth had; all of them walked out under their own power, but the injuries they left with reinforced Basque's skepticism about the effectiveness of the exercise.

"And that concludes the second year's first round! Next up, after a ten-minute intermission, will be the third-years! Be sure to come back to watch mage student Daymein!"

Many of the people sitting around them stood and walked down the stairs, headed to the concession stands or bathrooms. Basque stood and addressed his class, "If you need to go to the bathroom, wait until the matches start again, when it will be less crowded. There's nothing we need to see here, and no need to get lost in the crowd."

"Understood, Gerenet-Shr!"

Basque sat back down and thought about his student's upcoming matches. He was now glad that none of them drew a Class A opponent. Seeing the gap between the second-year's Class A and the other classes made him worry about his students. He had faith that they'd be able to dodge everything thrown at them, but it wasn't a solid faith. It was a chance he didn't want them to take, and was glad it wasn't a chance that they had to take.

"Oi! Crawlers in the ring? Horsey gotta ride the fall!"

Basque turned and looked at the man wavering as he stood on the stairs. He held a beer, and his eyes were unfocused.

"Pardon?" Basque asked.

Arion stood and pointed at the man, "Bucket's finished. Wash the floor, knock the bed." When he said, "bed," Arion flicked his finger away.

"Yani shit!" the man said and slammed his beer down on the ground.

Basque stood up. "Hey!" He put his hand on the man's chest and held him back.

The man looked down at Basque's hand on his chest, then back at Basque. "Yani-color hair outwaller! Groping no coping!" The man reared back to strike Basque.

Sighing, Basque grabbed the punch as it came in and squeezed the man's fist. The man cried out and went down to one knee.

"Look, I have no idea what you're talking about, but do not speak to my students. Do not look at my students. Do not come near my students. You probably need this hand for working, so I won't crush it. This is the only chance I'll give you."

The man looked at the ground. "Sorry, boss. I'll go."

Basque let go of the man's hand. The drunkard clutched it to his chest and stood up. Instead of going to a seat, though, the man stumbled down the stairs and went out into the concourse.

"Okay. Now, who's going to tell me what was said?" Basque looked down at Taraia, who was sitting next to him.

She laughed. "Ralph, here quizzing!"

More than half the class yelled Taraia's name.

"Spew pine riding me! Zip sip!"

Reianna stood and looked at Taraia. "Apologize. Immediately."

Taraia looked at the ground. "Sorry," she said.

"You call that an apology?" Dmi said.

There was a chorus of "yeahs".

Taraia looked at Basque. "I'm sorry, Gerenet-Shr."

Basque was at a loss. He had no idea what was said, but from the student's reactions, Taraia hadn't said anything nice.

"Now you get to tell him everything that was said, Tah. Just hope that he doesn't double the length of your reports," Reianna said and sat down.

Taraia winced. She looked up at Basque. "The drunk dude asked which ones of us were participating 'cause he wanted to bet on us losing. So, Arion told him that he was too drunk and to go sleep it off. Then, I made fun of you for vomiting and not knowing what was said."

He listened to her words, but his stomach was too busy sinking to the bottom of his torso to acknowledge them. The man, a commoner, wanted to bet against the other commoners. Worse, he didn't need to come over here and ask; he solely did it as an intimidation factor. Just like the boos for when Steth failed to kill Islae showed, the commoners even looked down on each other.

Taraia was still speaking, "But I only said it because you're being mean to me! Making me write those reports."

Basque sat down next to her. "Don't worry, Taraia, you aren't the first, nor will you be the last student to insult me or get mad at me. I'm not going to pretend it doesn't hurt, but, well, what am I going to do?"

"Try not hurling at the sight of blood."

Basque shook his head. "It wasn't the blood, Taraia. And you should be concentrating on your assignment. You've got seven methods to think of. That's not going to be easy."

She harrumphed and looked back at the empty arena. Basque closed his eyes. He didn't want to be there anymore. He didn't want his students to watch anymore. Today was their last day. None of his students were going to make it out of the first round, and there was no need for any of them to watch this "barbaric" event. Rakelle's word for it was perfect. The unshielded portion wasn't a learning experience for the students. It was a savage thrill for the bloodthirsty spectators.

What a Yani-hole.