34. Echoes from the Homeland

*KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!*

Joseph pushed against Tariq's chest, releasing himself from the embrace. As fast as a bolt, he pulled his robe around himself, straightening it up around his neck. His hands and legs were shaking violently.

With terror, the boy also noticed his...member...was partially erect.

*Oh my God! This again? How can I be so stupid?*

Tariq now had both hands on his hips. He kept staring at the doctor, frowning. Then he shook his head.

"Come in."

A young maid entered the room, lowering her head in reverence.

"Lady Zoila requests your presence, Your Highness."

"Very well. You're dismissed."

With another curtsy, the girl left.

The prince walked over to a drawer, taking out a cravat and a collar wrap, which he promptly started to tie. Then he looked over at the doctor.

Joseph looked down. He didn't dare look the prince in the eyes. He didn't even dare look up from the ground.

*What a pitiful scene! Jesus Christ!*

"We'll be waiting for you. Be quick."

With those words, Prince Tariq closed the door behind him.

***

The young doctor managed to get dressed, but he found it impossible to tie his hair back. Every time he tried, his wrist would hurt as if it were impaled. He settled on twisting his hair, letting it fall from his shoulder.

*I hope they don't mind.*

The garments weren't anything less than glorious. The vivid turquoise fabric would make his eyes stand out, as well as the gold of his hair. The silver embroidery and buttons, in 12 pairs - one on each side of the coat - looked like drops of seawater crashing on the rocks under the sunlight.

As soon as Joseph left the bedroom, he spotted a man in his 40s wearing a powdered blonde wig. He had a good build: broad shoulders and a noticeable, but well-distributed belly, making him look as sturdy as a bull.

"Let me show you the way, young master."

Joseph held back a laugh.

*Me? A master? Now that is something...*

They walked through a corridor of Romanic arcs, surrounding a garden of begonias in salmon, pink, yellow, and white, and some young palms. At its centre was an old, gnarled olive tree. Past that was a pond filled with red, white, and orange carp.

*It's incredible how an olive tree has grown so well in northern weather...*

After walking a little more, the doctor noticed they were circling a square-shaped patio. The house was a villa.

The table was set in a shady ebony bower, all covered in wild ivy. Already seated was Lady Zoila Von Schwarzenberg-Schlanger, staring at each person who arrived. Gerrard was at her right, and Tariq, her left. There was an empty chair - his chair, he realised - next to the prince.

A loud growling emerged from his stomach when he saw the dishes. Tenderloin fillet with English sauce and rosemary. Roquefort cheese pie with tomatoes and dry basil. A tray of Halusky, with extra steamed ham, and a plate of Bryndza cheese, as side dishes.

To drink, there was white wine, which the man, who must be the butler, was already pouring in a tall glass decorated with diamond designs.

*OH MY GOD!*

It was unexpected to find Halusky in a royal household, but Joseph just wanted to dive into all the food. The problem was that he had three different forks and knives next to his plate, and not a clue which one he should use.

*Hell must be like this… Starving, with perfect food in front of you, but you don't know how to eat it.*

Prince Tariq leaned in close, laughing, and whispered in his ear.

"Just do as I do."

He saw the lady of the house and the other prince, Gerrard, laughing as they looked at each other.

*Well, it's fillet and Roquefort cheese… They could piss in the dishes that I would eat happily, regardless!*

"It's good to have you with us, Dr. Selden."

"I told her about you," Tariq said to Joseph when he stared at him, lost.

"Oh! It's my p-pleasure, Your Highness! Thank you v-very much for accepting me into your home."

"You may serve us now, Willhelm."

A younger servant started to fill their plates.

They ate mostly in silence, with Joseph doing his best to replicate Tariq’s movements with the cutlery. Lady Zoila talked about something regarding a silver chalice with Gerrard, but the doctor could focus only on slowly eating, making sure the taste of the meat was very well imprinted on his mind, for God only knew when he would have the opportunity to savour it again.

"You may have as much as you like, child," Lady Zoila said to Joseph. He saw she had already finished her meal, her meat fork and knife crossed on her empty plate.

The princes were each on their third dishes already, filled with generous portions, and it was with amazement that the young doctor realised he was already on his fifth one. The three of them were clearing the platters.

"You're hungry, huh?" Tariq said, covering his mouth with a salmon-toned linen napkin.

Joseph smiled a half-hearted smile, embarrassment washing over him as he saw Gerrard frowning at him. The doctor moved his dish away.

"You'll eat it all. We don't accept waste in this household,” Gerrard said.

Joseph shivered.

Prince Gerrard’s one eye, glaring daggers at him... His rude voice, far harsher than Tariq's, even when he had been about to fight Honza Dvorák… Honestly, this was the attitude he would expect from a Schlanger Prince.

The boy lowered his head, resuming his meal with less enthusiasm than he’d started with. There was still room in his stomach...but the embarrassment of being scolded by an heir of the land grew like a balloon inside him.

Looking to his side, he noticed Tariq was also staring at his own plate, eating peacefully.

*I wouldn’t expect him to go against his brother to defend me, but...it's awkward to see him acting so submissively, for some reason.*

"Be at ease, Dr. Selden, and if you’re satisfied, you can put your plate aside."

"I ap-preciate that, my lady, but he's r-right… It's distasteful to waste food. Especially...such a special meal.

"Bloody sycophant,” the doctor heard Prince Gerrard mumble into his glass of wine.

Joseph frowned. What was this asshole’s problem?

He was doing his best. The best a third son of a fisherman from Cornwall could do...

That initial wave of fear seemed to crash into a wall of rocks and turn into undercurrent of anger.

*Focus on the steak! Focus on the steak! Focus on the steak!*

***

Dessert was a dark chocolate pudding and pine nut pie. The buttons on Joseph's waistcoat were about to pop off by then. He took a deep breath as he leaned back in his chair, wiping at a thin layer of sweat with his sleeve.

The servers cleaned the table, taking away all the dishes.

Lady Zoila kept staring at Joseph, frowning. More specifically, at the top of his head, just like Tariq had a habit of doing. The lady clenched her fists, her fingers full of silver rings in a blue translucent colour, grimacing and taking deep breaths. Then she looked away.

*It's like she saw the scene of a massacre...*

She grabbed an artefact that Joseph hadn’t noticed during their meal. It was a black crystal sphere with a few white veins, resting on a wooden platform. It was around 15 cm in diameter.

The boy couldn't tear his eyes from that sphere. That deep black surface...reflecting the world, all around them. The tone of the sky in it... It was as if it was sunrise.

But there was something strange… Rather strange indeed...

He saw a face. But...it wasn't *his* face. It was the face of an older man, in his mid twenties. His hair was black and short, and his nose, slightly aquiline. There was blood flowing from his temples. He was alone, surrounded by grapevines. And he was crying.

"It's obsidian, Dr. Selden. Do you know of it?"

"N-No, my lady." The boy rubbed his eyes, trying to erase the memory of that sight.

*What the hell was that?*

“Would you please rest your hands on this sphere?”

Joseph nodded, still dazed.

He didn’t understand, but he wouldn't refuse the lady of the house.

Slowly, he grabbed the crystal ball with both hands. The vitreous cold soon became a tender, cosy warmth, as if he were warming his hands over a fireplace.

"You may remove them."

The boy did so.

Lady Zoila stared at the orb, frowning even deeper and moving her hand as if she was about to snap her fingers. Joseph noticed one of her rings was shaped like a scorpion.

*A bold choice… Is she a witch?*

"I see a place surrounded by water… The sea to the north, a channel to south, and a river to the east. A peninsula, it seems."

The doctor froze. It sounded just like his homeland, in Cornwall. To the north was the Atlantic Ocean, to the south, the English Channel, and to the east, the Tamar River, right before Devon County. Sitting on a peninsula in south-east England.

*It's not possible...She knows I’m English, but I never told any of them that I'm from Cornwall.*

Joseph shut his eyes, trembling, when he saw the woman was still staring into the crystal ball.

“There are news awaiting you from this place.”

The boy's heart skipped a beat.

*My family? Should I write them?*

"G-Good news?"

"Neither good nor bad. Just what they are meant to be."

He looked at Tariq, who raised a finger, asking him to stay quiet and listen.

“What worries me the most...is that I see a man. A mature, corpulent gentleman of solemn demeanour. White, fluttering hair. He is dressed in black, and wears white gloves. He says he has a gift for you, and you need to claim it today before sunset, or it might be too late.”

"MR. BRENNER!"

Prince Tariq and Prince Gerrard looked at Joseph with wide eyes.

"I'm… I'm sorry. He’s my patient. He came to visit me yesterday, and he said exactly what you said, my lady."

The woman still kept staring at him. Her gaze was deep, but not surprised. It was as if she’d seen this situation several times before.

"Then hurry, child."

"I... I... Thank you for everything. I need to...get my things," the boy said as he tried to leave the table and bow at the same time, knocking his chair over as he left.

Tariq stood up.

"I'll go with him. Thank you for your help, Nana."

Lady Zoila grabbed his arm when he passed by her side.

"Take an ampoule of chamomile and valerian, and a flask of *Lacrima* from Martha."

"W-Why?"

"You'll need it.”