7. The Son of the Dragon Snake

Joseph and the prince stared at each other for a long moment. Then the doctor stood up.

*Well… It seems he's healed well. Very well.*

A wave of relief washed over Joseph. But at the same time, he couldn't forget how much it hurt that the prince had been so eager to leave his house, even though he did his best to make him feel welcome.

The reverend scratched his head, raising an eyebrow.

“Do you know each other?”

“NO,” both boys answered at the same time.

"Very well. Let me introduce you, then."

Cleaning his throat, the priest put himself between the boys. He gestured at Joseph with his right hand.

“Your Highness, this is Joseph Lee Selden. He is an English gentleman who started studying with us in this fall, but he already has shown the most remarkable performance in his courses.”

The prince looked from the reverend to Joseph, silently raising an eyebrow.

Joseph grimaced.

*Is he making light of it?*

"Joseph, this is Tariq Ali Bashir von Scwarzenberg-Schlanger, II Prince of the Schwarzenberg-Schlanger house. His father, our good lord Balthazar von Schwarzenberg-Schlanger, instructed us to welcome him with our best."

The young doctor paled, swallowing hard.

He thought the prince was the heir of some foreign dynasty, given the darker tone of his skin. But...no. He was from a German dynasty, and not from a small, distant one. The Schwarzenberg-Schlanger were the rulers of that land, the *owners* of Bohemia.

Joseph had heard stories about them from classmates at the canteen, and from Mrs. Novákova at the tavern, and...as with the vast majority of German royalty, they didn't seem to be ones to be taken lightly.

Their crest of arms was a dragon snake. One needed to have bollocks of steel to adopt such a *mascot* right under the Holy Germanic Roman Empire's nose and just get away with it.

They said that once, the patriarch, Balthazar Schlanger, had caught some men hunting in royal territory and beheaded them all himself with an axe, placing their heads on stakes along the castle walls, and sending their tongues and intimate parts preserved in salt for their widows and children to *eat* for that day.

*Well...the p-people used to ex-exaggerate those st-tories, right?*

The boy swallowed, a chill running down his spine.

*Rev. Eckhardt said he chose me because I'm a foreigner. But you know what? I think everyone else was just shitting their pants and the English loser here got caught in the crossfire.*

Prince Tariq stared at Joseph for a bit before slowly offering his hand.

“It's good to meet you.”

Joseph’s eyes widened. He remembered his clothing was still covered with mud stains.

“L-Likewise, Y-Your Highness.”

Frowning and trembling, he stared at the ground as he took the prince's hand. He felt its warmth all the way up his arm. When he finally gathered the courage to raise his head, he saw those amber eyes glued to his, a smirk of satisfaction taking over the prince's face.

***

Joseph and Prince Tariq walked down a villa-style corridor of ogival arcs which surrounded the font with statues of the four chief archangels: Michael, Raphael, Gabriel and Uriel.

Joseph could see literally *every* eye on the prince when they passed by, from students to professors, and even the staff. But he felt the prince's eyes on himself.

He was reminded of when the prince had said he was very beautiful, back at his home... But it certainly couldn’t have been a compliment, and definitely not a flirtation.

It was merely an ironic way of saying he wasn't a trustworthy doctor. What he really meant was, *You're too beautiful to be a doctor. Therefore, you cannot be taken seriously.*

He noticed Prince Tariq always kept his head up and his gaze forward, when he wasn't busy ogling Joseph. Both hands were crossed behind his back, and he seemed more interested in the building itself, its architectural plan and adornments, rather than the people. His back was straight, and he boldly walked with firm, slow steps. He was like a tenant, checking everything on his property to be assured it was being well taken care of.

“This building mixes Romantic, Gothic, and Neoclassical styles. It's not ugly, per se, but there’s too much going on visually. Do you know when it was built?”

They had been silent since they left the reverend's room. Joseph was still panicking, trying to figure out how the hell he should behave around a son of the Schlangers. The prince, on the other hand, wouldn't take his eyes off Joseph.

*I should be the one starting a conversation, not the other way around...*

“I think...they f-finished building it in the late 1400s… But they kept renovating and expanding certain areas... That’s why there are inconsistencies in style.”

“I see.”

They reached the Common Hall, with its triple staircase that would take them to their classrooms. Joseph stopped, taking a deep breath.

“Your Highness, our classes are about to start. I'll show you everything else afterwards.”

“Of course.”

“Did they...give you your timetable?”

The prince raised his eyebrows and fumbled around in his coat's internal pockets, pulling out a piece of paper.

“Here.”

Joseph took the paper with a raised eyebrow.

*Really? Didn't he even bother to read it?*

After reading for a bit, the doctor scratched his head.

“Oh… It seems we're both enrolled in the first class today. Rhetoric I.”

The prince bowed in a caricature of reverence, motioning at the corridor. He was smirking, staring at Joseph with heavy-lidded eyes.

“Please, after you, Master.”

The doctor's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open in shock, horrified at such a mocking attitude.

*He looks nothing like that boy who said I was a hero... I guess humility is a hard-to-sustain virtue once you get your health back.*

***

They were the last ones to enter the classroom. The first face Joseph saw was Filip Svoboda's. He put his disgusting chin in the air, making a cutthroat gesture at Joseph with his thumb. The young doctor frowned, ignoring him and looking for a seat in the first row. Svoboda was the only one paying attention to him, though.

All the other faces turned towards the prince. Joseph noticed outraged expressions of disbelief, which quickly turned to whispers in each other's ears. He knew why. The prince had a darker skin tone, a complexion which reminded Joseph of middle eastern people.

Joseph noted some particular voices amongst all the noise. One of them, drawn-out and stilted, belonged to Honza Dvorák, son of the dean of the college and also the Magistrate of the district. He had light brown hair, almost blonde, and grey-blue lifeless eyes.

"Are they letting n*ggers study here now?"

"SHUSH! He’s the son of the old Schlanger!" The doctor heard Filip Svoboda's voice, laughing in disdain. The two of them were very close friends. Birds of a feather flock together, after all.

*Of course these pieces of rubbish would make a huge fuss over such an insignificant matter...*

Joseph found two empty seats, close to the platform. He took his place, accompanied by the prince. Then, they waited for the professor of Rhetoric to arrive.

The aforementioned Professor Schebek was a huge man with a red face. He wore a wig atop his neckless head, and he was always sweating, even in winter. He entered the room, bursting through the door. He went to his desk, opened a drawer, and took out a huge dented paddle. Joseph trembled, hiding his hands under his arms.

“Take out your notebooks, you pests! You better have done *everything* I assigned to you!” He walked towards the students, waving the paddle, and Joseph noticed he was starting from the opposite row.

"This fellow looks like an expired doughnut, don't you think?" the prince asked him.

Joseph’s eyes widened, and he covered the prince's mouth reflexively.

"F-For God's sake, p-please lower your voice!"

The young doctor heard the voices of students whispering behind him. Honza Dvorák and Filip Svoboda were staring straight at him, laughing. They looked at each other and nodded.

*Shit, they heard...*

Joseph turned away from them.

Then he felt a few kicks in his back and found dirty boots resting on his shoulders.

"Ah, this mat seems so worn out already..." It was Dvorák's voice. "Should I change positions?"

He kept kicking Joseph violently. The boy remained silent, staring down at his notebook, his body jostling back and forth.

The prince frowned, his eyes widening as he turned back, looking straight at Dvorák.

"May I help you, *Your Highness?*"

Just then, they noticed the professor standing in front of them, the paddle crossed over his chest.

"Show me your homework, Selden."

The boy did, trying to hide the fact that his hands were shaking. His calligraphy was elegant, embellishing a perfect Latin. The answers were lengthy, and diligently written.

Still, as the teacher checked his notes, the lad was sweating.

"Why are you so nervous? You're like a genius!"

The prince smiled, looking at Joseph. He meant those words in a playful, friendly way. Yet...the doctor didn't seem to notice him. He was pale, panting and shaking.

"Are you alright?"

The professor finished reading Joseph's notebook, closing and throwing it at the boy, almost hitting him in the face.

"It's incomplete."

The boy looked at him with watery eyes, a pained expression on his face.

"P-Professorr, p-please... I...d-did everything you asked, and more!"

"ARE YOU TALKING BACK TO ME, YOU PEST? IF I SAY IT'S INCOMPLETE, IT'S BECAUSE IT'S INCOMPLETE!"

Spit flew out of the man’s mouth as he shouted, and Joseph trembled at every word.

The prince, frowned, his mouth dropping open.

The young doctor had trouble finding the words to speak.

"I'm s-so sorry, what I m-meant w-was..."

"We have something to tell you, Professor Schebek," Dvorák said, raising his hand.

"What is it?"

"Selden was telling the newcomer that you look like an expired doughnut, and that you smell like a pig."

The man's face turned red. He opened his mouth, his face contorting in anger. He reached out, grabbing Joseph by the arms.

"P-Please, Professor! They're lying! I swear!" Joseph did his best to keep his voice firm, for he refused to let Dvorák, Svoboda, and the others see him cry.

However, that cold, tightening sensation was already spreading throughout his body. His mouth went dry.

The man dragged him to the middle of the classroom and threw the boy on the floor.

It was pointless to beg for mercy at that point.

"TAKE OFF YOUR GLOVES, YOU SLY PEST! NOW!"

Holding back his tears, Joseph raised his head and took off his gloves. He was visibly shaking. He removed the bandages, revealing the bruises and irritated wounds.

"HOLD OUT YOUR HANDS!"

Sitting on his knees, Joseph held them out. He kept his chin up, staring at the man. All the other boys in the class were laughing loudly.

The professor raised the paddle above his head, gathering the strength to beat him with all his might.

Before he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and waited for the wave of pain that was about to come, Joseph looked over at the prince, who was in complete dismay.

*Now you know what happened, Your Highness...*

*********

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