8. The Son of the Dragon Snake II

Joseph squeezed his eyes shut and lowered his head, waiting for the first blow.

“Ugh... Whaa-”

Instead, he heard the sound of someone groaning.

The boy opened his eyes, looking up. He went pale at the sight before him.

Professor Shebek's arm, the one that was holding the paddle, was being held back by the prince.

Not only was the prince holding it, but he was actually *bending* it, as if he were twisting a wet towel.

“Ahhhgh!” The man's eyes were fixated on the new student. His face was still sweaty, but now it was pale instead of red, painted with pure terror and outrage.

The prince's expression was placid. A quick flash of sunlight flickered through his amber eyes. He tightened his grip.

“Ugh!”

The paddle fell from the professor's hand and hit the floor with a dull sound.

The dark-haired boy released his prey, pushing him away into the platform. The heavy man had a hard time maintaining his balance.

“F-For G-God's sake! How... HOW DARE YOU?!”

Never, EVER, had anyone even talked back to him, let alone done something like this.

The prince gracefully bent down to where the paddle had fallen and picked it up. His eyes travelled across every centimetre of it, analysing it. Then he stared at the professor, still as a stone angel in a garden.

Professor Schebek's face had turned red again, smoke practically coming out of his nostrils. His rage was quickly growing for the new student.

Joseph noticed the other student’s reactions, some with smiles of satisfaction and others shaking their heads in disdain. Dvorák was making a motion with his hand to Sovoboda that implied he thought the prince was mad.

*Oh, no! He went...completely overboard!*

“YOU! WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, YOU PEST?!”

“Satan.”

And just like that, the prince smacked the paddle right into the professor's face.

The man stumbled, trying to find something to hold onto, but he fell and landed like a bale of hay thrown from a wagon, cushioned by his massive buttocks.

The class went as silent as the local cemetery.

Joseph felt a brief twinge of pity for this trembling creature, who tried to sit up enough to stand, his eyes red and watery.

The prince approached the professor slowly.

"Pleasure to meet you, Professor *Doughnut*," he said, and smacked the paddle into the man's face again. And again. And again.

Joseph's legs were unable to move.

*I'll pay you back for your kindness, Dr. Selden...*

"HEELP!" There was a thin line of blood running from the professor's nose.

"STOP! STOP IT, ALRIGHT?" Joseph saw Filip Svoboda step between the two and raise an arm in front of the older man, who was crying about how young people were too wild these days. "You’ve done enough, don't you think?"

Prince Tariq stared at him with his chin up, a look of disgust taking over his face, as if Svoboda was an insolent maggot. His pupils were constricted, his eyes made a vivid yellow by the sunlight. His brow furrowed and his mouth contorted into a scowl. Joseph trembled.

The man before him didn't resemble the distressed boy he had saved on New Year's Eve in *any* way. Now he had completely turned into a falcon-like demon, solely seeking to take down his prey and anyone who might stand in his way.

Joseph wanted to ask him to stop, but...he was too appalled to even open his mouth, let alone move his legs.

The prince raised the paddle again, but Honza Dvorák and two other boys, Matej Bartos and Alois Krk, grabbed his arm. Dvorák, who was around the same height as the prince, pushed him away violently.

"Are you fucking crazy, n*gger?"

The prince’s eyes widened and he made a move towards Dvorák, but Filip put himself between them, his hands held out towards their chests.

"That's enough! STOP!"

***

"You were here for two hours, son! Two hours!"

*And he’s already made history...*

Joseph completed Reverend Eckhardt Weber’s sentence in his mind. He and the prince, along with the reverend and Professor Schebek, were gathered in the dean's office. The two lads sat in front of the dean's chair while the other two men stood. The reverend was still, with his hands crossed in front of him, while the professor paced in circles, throwing a tantrum with his face all covered in bruises and blood. Just like the wounds he’d inflicted on Joseph's arms for weeks, solely out of pettiness.

"HE HAS TO BE EXPELLED! AND ARRESTED! HE CALLED HIMSELF SATAN! Jesus Christ protect us.”

Joseph rolled his eyes when the professor made an especially theatrical sign of the cross.

The dean kept looking at the prince, then at Joseph, then back at the prince again. His elbows rested on his desk, his hands folded in front of his face.

Malek Dvorák was a handsome man in his early 40s, with medium-length light brown hair - just like his son, Honza - tied back in a flawless ponytail.

"I'm sure he said that merely as a joke... Not the...best taste in jokes, of course, but surely he simply isn't aware of the weight of this word. Right, son?"

Prince Tariq didn't seem to even be listening to the reverend. Or to anyone else. He was quite busy fiddling around with a romance book that was on the dean's desk when they arrived. Joseph noticed a red ribbon peeking out from the book's pages, close to the end.

The man frowned and kept staring at the prince - who seemed oblivious to anything that was happening around him - as if the boy was some sort of mythical creature manifested right before him. The prince kept flipping through the book, unaware of the looks he was receiving.

"*A Wild Summer Love*, by Madame Eleanor Tabor... My younger sister has all of her books. If you want, Mr. Dean, I can ask her to loan you some." The prince laid the book back on the desk, straightening himself in his chair and crossing his legs. Joseph noticed a faint note of blush on the dean's cheekbones when the man grabbed the book and threw it in a pile behind him.

*THAT IS WHY they chose me to be his mentor… He has trouble written all over his face and no one else wanted to take on the responsibility.*

“SEE! THE NERVE! THE NERVE OF THIS DELINQUENT!”

"Stop yelling, Schebek,” the dean said, massaging his temples in circular motions. "Your Highness, I'm afraid I'll have to issue you a warning for bad behaviour and for disrespecting an authority figure."

Prince Tariq just shrugged and nodded.

"Okay."

"That’s all? He beat me! I don't care if he’s the son of the Schlangers!"

*Oh, lovely! You can abuse your authority with me, but when the same thing happens to you, suddenly you’re the victim...*

When Joseph had left the classroom, he was so nervous that he thought he would faint. He was shaking and felt like he was going to vomit. He had even felt a wave of dizziness wash over him.

The only thing on his mind was his place at the college. The fact that he was the prince's mentor and that he had avoided his albeit unfair punishment could make him look just as guilty.

Fortunately, the dean seemed more interested in finishing his romance novels than getting into an open quarrel with 'Papa Schlanger' over an asshole like Schebert. Malek Dvorák was also the Magistrate of the district, thus right under the hand of the First Prince. Expelling a Schlanger son on his first day could make things very...*difficult* for him and the college.

Since the prince had managed to steal all the attention for himself, Joseph had hardly even been mentioned. As a matter of fact, when Schebert explained *why* he was about to beat the boy, he was reprimanded by Dr. Dvorák.

"There is nothing wrong with his homework. In fact, he did more than what you assigned to him."

That old frog just had to suck it up. But not without a half-hour long grumble about how "these 'youngsters' on the Board were too acquiescent to the sly brats of today".

It was more than enough for Joseph to breathe easily again.

"Now all of you get out of here. Except for Reverend Weber."

Joseph noticed that, even as they were leaving, the dean kept inspecting the prince, from head to toe, behind his back.

***

Joseph attended the rest of his classes for that morning without any other incidents. Fortunately, all of them were medicine related, so he simply immersed himself in them and was able to relieve a bit of the stress from earlier.

When the last class was over, he went to the Common Hall. In an isolated corner close to the entrance was the prince, leaning on an Ionian column, lost in his thoughts as he stared at the garden.

"Your Highness..."

The prince turned to him, smiling.

"Hey!"

"Look, um... There’s something I wish to say to you."

"I'm listening."

"Er… About today... I...I'm really... g-grateful to you for standing up f-for me, but... I beg you, please, have mercy, and never do such a thing again."

The prince frowned, his face turning serious.

"I'm your mentor, so...in the future, they might find me responsible. And since I have no family to rely on, they might cancel my enrolment." Joseph lowered his head, swallowing.

*Suddenly, I feel so tired...*

The prince stared at him. His silence was his answer.

Joseph raised his read, meeting the other boy’s eyes. He was still leaning one shoulder onto the column, looking at Joseph seriously, his hands inside his coat.

"A gift for a gift. That is the way, in our family." The Prince said, moving one hand.

The younger doctor flinched when the other boy touched his fingers, holding his hand in a gentle grip.

"Do they still hurt?"

Joseph smiled, nodding. Then he blushed, looking down at the ground.

"Yes. Not as much as before, though."

His expression darkened. In truth, it did still hurt a lot. Sometimes he was even afraid that all those blows might have broken some of the bones, and he never had the time to let it rest and heal properly, for he was always exhausting his hands.

Joseph rubbed his forehead with his free hand. All the stress of the day had given him a headache.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm just...tired."

The prince still held onto Joseph's hand.

*Why does he keep asking if I'm alright?*

The doctor gently pulled his trembling hand from the prince's grip. His face was burning red, and a wave of warmth in his chest made his heart beat faster.

*Haven't you seen how dangerous he can be, idiot?*

"M-May I ask you where you’re staying? So I can take you there."

"Oh!" the prince exclaimed, taking out a piece of paper. "I'm assigned to St. Raphael's Tower, it seems."

"Such a coincidence! That’s where I'm lodging, too!"

Both boys turned at the sound of the voice behind them. It was Filip Svoboda.

*********

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