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Victoria Leal THE HEALER OF THE SERPENT

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This manuscript is for those who have left this world, continuing its existence in our hearts. Thank you for what you left here.

The Sun does not know good. The Sun knows no evil. The Sun illuminates everyone equally. Whoever finds himself is like the Sun.

A King for all kings. A Stone to encase the evils of the world. A Sword to erase memories. A Guardian that connects the Heavens with the Soils. A Healer of Eternal Return.

THE HEALER OF THE SERPENT. First part.

1. All the joy of sunny days. In the Heart of the World, the Guardian of Fire had his home. The Eternal Forge was a spiral deep into the planet, a journey into molten rock and melting skin. Located on the edge of Älmandur, a trip of less than two years on the back of a good horse and its corresponding breaks was impossible but, thanks to Nikola, Knight of heavy armor, thick arched eyebrows and regal height; and the strange words of him recited from him before starting the trip, the horsemen arrived at the forge in a matter of a few months and without the need to look for provisions. Men of Älmandur and Äingidh, creatures of nefarious origin and skins deformed by fire, created a new story of collaboration never seen before, an unstoppable force that did not compare to the ancient alliances made with the High Ones who were worshiped as gods. Without a doubt, Nikola was the best man in Älmandur, the one capable of unifying the races of the kingdom without much effort other than his simple desire, who could imagine that the Äingidh understood words? Obviously, that Knight in silver armor was the lord of those vermin because they only obeyed him. With morale in the clouds, the soldiers in the service of Nikola's companion camped one night on the outskirts of the volcano, beginning the spiral descent towards the fires as soon as the sun peeked over the horizon. Hagen, a man with a plump body and brown beard dressed in indigo, was the name of the one leading the humans in armor, brother of the king but of different ambitions. He had made Nikola a man in his service by encouraging him to enter the Academy of Knights in his childhood, making him an important ally once he learned that this young man was dedicated to the arts practiced by the Äingidh. Those vermin deformed by fire, and the fights between them; made the way through the incandescent rocks since their home was fire and they never felt fear of it. The mens in thick protective armor sharpened their swords noticing engravings in the steel, words in an unknown language that Nikola had to embed, spells that would help the Guardian of the Forge to sleep. The Heart of the World lay pulsing and reddish deep within the volcano, beautiful in its vitality, it looked like a heart of lava, justifying its name. The soldiers remained silent admiring the force of the hunch, being the Äingidh who shot the first arrows to the heart from where a creature with glorious fire mane arose with its roar the lands were shaken and its great claws threw lava everywhere. The soldiers held the line letting the new leather-‐hard allies use catapults, launching projectiles whose surfaces carried the same strange spells. They cracked the skin of the Guardian who crushed men with his claws, chewed tools and ripped the foundations of his home seeking to bring him down. An Äingidh of supernatural size, easily three times the height of the tallest man; he grabbed his bewitched spear, pushing his way through the projectiles,

stabbing the blade into the crystalline eye of the Fire Lion who stirred causing the earth to tremble, sinking into its flames. Seconds later he returned to crush dozens of soldiers but new reinforcements were coming out. Blood flowed from the blades of the swords, the Guardian's skin did not withstand such violence. The stones of his hearth were splattered with his blood, he lost his strength when the leader of the men shot an arrow at his chest. The Heart of the World, which is the center of our planet, ceased its beat, men and Äingidh remained expectant at the result of the arrow. The Guardian closed his eyes, falling loudly on the stones, spilling his blood like a river that pushed men and Äingidh, barely holding on. From the place where the arrow remained stuck, the blood was replaced by a viscous tar of purulent violet, flooding the heart of the Guardian who rose victorious, kicking among the new throbbing of the Heart of the World. The men and Äingidh cheered in triumph, waving their fists in the air as the Guardian began creating new Äingidh from the lava. **** The last time little Wilhelm was visited by his cousin was two years ago, just before the campaign in the south where Helmut led Älmandur's troops to liberate the territory from being invaded by dirty, surprisingly intelligent vermin. Wilhelm was a thirteen-‐year-‐old boy whose inability to leave the palace made him very attracted to stories, even if they were totally false. It was rumored that the High Ones were not to abandon their original post, and Wilhelm followed to the letter all instructions concerning his origin, of which he was happy. If we had to describe the word curious is appropriate, his height and thinness allowed him to slip through small passageways in which he used to listen to other people's conversations or read forbidden books. The only problem is that his hair was so clear that the dirt used to betray his antics and his crooked tiara was clear indication of lewd acts of an heir to the throne. A detail causing rumors in Älmandur was the face of the little prince as he was so polished and smooth that she was called "Princess Wilhelmine". That detail made Wilhelm very different from his cousin Helmut, who was admired for his height of a man and a quarter, always straight in spite of battle wounds. The boy also had golden hair but his features were hard, wide jaw and distrustful expression, small lines like ancient trails crossed his eyes and pink cheekbones but that was not the most important trait but his skill with the sword, which was so much that he was rarely seriously injured, even fighting a Äingidh. The cousins hugged that summer day, ignoring welcoming protocols, formal greetings and other nonsense that neither of them liked. They just shared the day eating sweets and, Helmut's wonder: beer. Because without beer the boy did not live, much less without a hot meal of roast meats. And who can forbid food to a man capable of liberating lands of nameless beings with outlines of intelligence? Kings Albert and Adalgisa received their nephew comfortably, following Wilhelm's attitude, generating certain discomforts in the servants prepared for a

formal reception. But nobody cared because it was expected by Albert and his only begotten, Wilhelm. When night embraced the kingdom, the boys fell asleep on the couch in the library. Helmut could no longer tolerate exhaustion and felt free to rest at home, but Wilhelm had no reason to sleep other than laziness. In addition, the stories Helmut brought from the battle were so moving that, for a moment, he felt that he was in the place, sword and shield in hand, fighting against those animals whom they baptized as Äingidh, which in Sgälagan means "evil” since that was his nature. Fritz and Benedikt, Wilhelm's faithful servants; they were the ones who discovered the sleeping boys sleeping on the same couch, drooling on the chamois as if it were easy to get. Benedikt was an overprotective man with firm arms with a weakness for squeezes. His sweet expression matched his cheeks and nose as red as his favorite wardrobe. He used to complain about pain in his knees but anyone would realize that losing weight would help him solve the dilemma. The old man with the reddish gray beard smiled fondly for his boys. He scooped up his little master Wilhelm, carrying him into his bedroom. There, the boy was reclined in the middle of his collection of pillows and stripped of the three layers of colorful and embroidered clothing. Abandoned in Benedikt's hands, Wilhelm awoke to find that he was in his white nightgown, covered in blankets and soft lace sheets, smiling drowsily in thanks. The plump man in red was leaving the room when he saw his mistress, Queen Adalgisa, a slim woman with almond-‐colored hair so long it dragged on the floor. The smiling mother approached the bedroom, holding a thick book in her long pink-‐fingered hands. —Has he already fallen asleep? —I believe he has awakened, my sweet lady. —Oh, good because I'm used to telling him stories at night. —Have a good night, my lady. —The same for you Beni. Ah, one last thing ... —At his command. —Yesterday Fritz told me that you suffer from a great thirst at night... —That old gossip, worrying my lady! —Fritz is right, you have to put down the beer. —I promise I'll try ... —I hope that's how it is. Adalgisa pampered the servant's cheek, entering the bedroom where Wilhelm created a cushioned throne, looking forward to her mother and her book. —Hello my little cloud, you look sleepy. —I woke up to hear you, mommy, what will you tell me today? The woman in the light blue dress and rounded features settled on the cushioned throne, letting her child lie down beside her.

—Since we are in the Month of the Sun and close to the High Ones Festival, I am going to tell you… about my relatives. Wilhelm felt the fire inside him lodge in his eyes, the happiness that he did not know until that moment completely overwhelmed him and he wanted to lift his ears to hear better but his were not like the ears of the High Ones but small and round. —What a joy, mommy, finally! —It's the perfect time ... —Mommy, there is a small detail that I have always had in doubt ... —What is it, little cloud? Adalgisa checked the manuscript's index, flipping through the book until she found the page. —If you are a descendant of the Highs, why are your ears round? Dad's ears are even smaller than you, but Beni's ears are pointy. —That is so because our ears develop over time, my love. I am still very young, you will see when I get old, my ears will be so big that I will be able to fly with them. That was my grandfather Älmandur. —Tell me more! Wilhelm threw a thick blanket over his mother, noticing her beginning to read the text. —The origin of the Royal Family of Älmandur goes back to the Heavens as the first High Ones had their abode there. But do not be confused by their name since they are called High for their incredible bearing and great stellar wisdom, among them their name is Sgälagan, a word that in our language translates as "servant" because the High Ones say they are servants of the Great Work. of the First and Last King, its Creator. —Who is this King, Mommy? —The Creator of All, little cloud. —And he told the Highs they should come, didn't he? —So is. The Highs came to this world, our world to found this kingdom and protect these lands from the ancient evil. —What evil? —Another time, in the lands of the High Ones, the evil wanted to eliminate the descendants of the First and Last King. Then, the Highs fought to avoid their extinction and expelled the evil from their lands but this vile being sought refuge here, in this world. The High Ones founded Älmandur as a refuge for good-‐ hearted men. Älmandur was the first king, then his only begotten was his heir; Äntalmärnen… —My grandfather. —My father. Wilhelm's eyelids became heavy and his body lay limply amid the bedding. The boy kept a painful vigil because his curiosity was too great.

—It is a pity that I could not meet them, I would have liked to hear this story from his lips... —That is why I am here today, my love, because it is my duty to teach you this story and your duty is to memorize it because you are the heir to the throne of Älmandur. —A tremendous responsibility ... —Älmandur is the refuge of good-‐hearted men, my son. Therefore, the High Ones must not abandon the capital of the kingdom. This is where we exercise our loving mantle of protection. No one will get old, no one will ever get sick if we stay here. —That's why I can't travel anywhere, why Helmut can come and go and nobody tells him anything! He's also a High, right? —Your cousin has another mission, darling: to protect the Heir, to protect you. And your mission, love, is to protect the people of Älmandur… prevent them from old age and sickness, drive away their fears and bring smiles to them. Adalgisa covered her child, kissing the warm pale forehead of the one who slept. She put the book on the bedside table and lowered the canopy that separated the cot from the outside world, leaving the curtains open as she remembered that her little cloud was afraid of the dark. The next morning, when the sun was just lazily peering over the mountains, a man with long gray hair and a sharp expression walked through a room full of books, meeting a smiling friend with rosy cheeks who watched in admiration the flutter of a little bird. —Fritz look, the little egg has already been born! —Save that for later. I'll prepare the agenda, now go to ... —Yeah, yeah— The rosy-‐cheeked man shook his hand, leaving a sketch of the bird on the table— Just take a minute and look at her, she's so cute and so ... —Benedikt ... —Yes, I'm going. Hurriedly holding his clothes so as not to stumble, Benedikt crossed a long corridor adorned with diamond-‐shaped portraits and adorned with silver woods for the men and gold for the ladies; repeating itself: —I have to stop eating so much bread and fruit, I must urgently stop… ah, and beer too. Heavens, how difficult it is to be thin, what suffering ... what agony ... let me be a happy chubby. Panting he stopped before a great door carved with heroic figures of great men in shining armor and fiery swords, defeating a dragon whose mouth hid a man also in armor but black as his hair and his hands. The relief related an ancient epic untold to the youth of Älmandur to prevent the birth of adventurers by throwing themselves into the jaws of all the vermin beyond the kingdom's walls. Benedikt stood at the door, catching his breath, took control of the wide golden metals twisted in the shape of a four-‐strand braid, entering the room darkened by

thick embroidered curtains, feeling the weight of the memories that that relief brought him, the memories of a sword sheathed and hidden among his most valuable belongings. The exhausted man clapped his hands in the air calling for two exactly the same women who appeared out of nowhere. The curtains were opened, moving the furniture to clean the carpet, awakening the small figure sunk in the pile of white pillows adorned with soft silver-‐embroidered lace. —Why all the fuss? —Because otherwise you won't wake up, Little Highness. You have the heavy sleeper that I would love to see in Fritz. That old owl doesn't sleep. —Do I have to get up? A maid took the pillow where the young man in the long ivory nightgown lay. —Your Highness, you not only have to get out of bed, you have to dress and prepare for the occasion. —I already greeted Frauke, what else do I have to do? —You excuse me, I don't understand you. The young man was shuffling across the carpet, staring at the floor and waving his arms. His face showed annoyance but getting up on time was only one of the reasons why the prince let the dejection take over. With a clear tone of complaint, the little one with the morning wheat hair looked at his servant, scratching his eyelids with little neatness. —She is my cousin but she has never liked me and his name is horrible, it is as if she barked a dog at me. I hope Helmut doesn't get mad if he finds out that I think that about his sister. —Your Highness, what kind of childish tantrums are those? —Explain to me, Benedikt: who wants a wife whose name sounds like a bark? Not me, I want to marry a woman whose name inspires me. Didn't you tell me that that's the way my father chose my mother? Benedikt led the youngster's steps into a room with a large jug in the center, which was overflowing with hot water. One of the maids arranged long fabrics on a turned wooden countertop, closing the door as she left. —Not all of us are that lucky. —Does your wife have a dog's name too? —Oh please don't say that. My wife had a beautiful name, so much so that I felt unworthy of her marital devotion. The nightwear was removed with subtlety from the white body of the child, who sank into the jar, wetting even his hair, which floated totally weightless because it was scarce and very smooth. —And above all, they go and choose my wife, letting me know one day before she arrives. —Little Highness…

—I don't even like her voice! Furthermore, she is my direct cousin, Helmut's sister whom I appreciate as if we had the same woman for our mother… I don't like the idea of marrying a cousin with so many women available. Has no sense. —Your Highness—Benedikt pulled up a chair next to the jar, rolling up his sleeves—It is true that they have chosen a wife in a hurry but please do not behave as if you were thirteen years old. —I'm thirteen, what are you trying to imply? —Oh right ... Excuse me ... it's just, well, old men stuff. —Oh, I know—The boy sighed listlessly, looking at Benedikt—You're going to get away with the idea that I'm too immature to be a High, right? They overwhelm me with that speech, they have repeated it so many times that I no longer feel like speaking and committing a fault. The only one who doesn't care is Helmut and he hears “my nonsense” laughing, telling me other interesting stories… I wonder if he has any objections regarding the engagement between Frauke and me. —Helmut is not a male apprehensive of his younger sister, quite the opposite ... if you allow me ... —Say what you think without fear. —I'd say Master Helmut would like to get rid of his sister. —Do you really believe it? May I know what you are based on? —Oh well—Benedikt sprayed vinegar on the prince's hair using a designated task bottle— Helmut is a little… cruel to women. —How is that? Helmut is not the kind of man who mistreats ladies, is he? The little prince was scrubbing his body with a cloth at the moment that Benedikt finished his task of grooming the hair of his master, who was curiously waiting for the response of the man with the long reddish beard. —Sometimes. I mean, once in a while, he doesn't do it often with anyone or his sister… oh no, I should have shut up. Master Helmut is… well, he has a heavy hand. —Say no more about my cousin, I'm sure you've been wrong. —Yes, that is, he has been the folly of a tired old man. Um ... I need to tell you something else. —I hope it's no more gossip about Helmut. —Oh no, of course not. You will get to know your cousin better as you spend time with him. He is injured so he will stay a season here. My point is: he must make a commitment for the good of this land. A marriage is a business that, well run, can create kingdoms like this or end them. And the High entrusted us with these lands, do you think they…? —I know, the High Ones trust my family so much that they decided to give it control of affairs in this world. But if my duty is to rule this kingdom, choosing my wife would help me a lot in creating a good alliance, or is what I am saying very silly? —Stand up, please.

Benedikt dried the boy's body when he left the jar. Taking on a new white nightgown, the slim figure with light eyes and pale skin stained with pink on the cheeks, knees and elbows he donned the first layers of an outfit that created broad shoulders and a feigned height. —Let me help you with that. —I can alone, I'm not useless. —Your Highness ... oh, my Little Highness... just listen to your father and save yourself the trouble. You will learn to love your wife, love comes with time. —Helmut was married two years and he told me that he never loved his wife. The poor woman left this world trying to win the heart of my cousin. Um, you're right, Helmut is cruel. —Could you stop mentioning your cousin? I know you admire him but we are talking about your future, the future of the kingdom. —Fine, if you say so. —And don't say any of this to Fritz. —Are you mad? I’m not looking for the gallows or an espadrille. —Well said. Now let me help you, please. Benedikt tied the corset tightly over the white shirt, adding the gold-‐embroidered blue tunic. He also tied the boots tight to the shin and adjusted the design carved into the leather of the pants because the child had left him crooked. —I hate this garment that forces my back to be so straight, it takes my breath away. Hopefully the day passes soon so I can throw myself on my cot and read a little. The belt and the gold leaf tiara were added, inherited from the ancestors of the little boy, resigned to wearing clothes he had never liked. His fingers brushed the filigree blades on the jewel placed on his head, feeling the metal whisper stories that no one dared confess to him. He took a breath looking at himself in the mirror because he did not recognize himself. His formal clothes made him look older, imposing even despite the floral embroidery. —Benedikt, the Klotzbachs and the Zum Neuenthurm are arriving today. —That's right, Your Highness. We have a reception prepared for them, one as beautiful as the one prepared for the Von Freiherr. —If I'm correct, the one joining these parties is the Ambassador of Siam… could you remind me of his name? The last step of the young man's attire was a ring imitating the branches of the woods, an accessory that he sank into his flesh, eager to remain there forever. —Your Highness, you ask the worst person. —Why do you say that? —You know that I am a little distracted, I prefer that you confirm your doubts with Fritz. Surely he knows even the Ambassador's shoe size. —Distracted by the names and the days, but you remember the gossip sneaking behind the curtains, right?

—Weaknesses of a bored old man. —Hey, don't put your head down—The boy looked into the eyes of his servant, smiling mockingly—I like you to listen for me to what no one tells me. It's just ... don't touch Helmut, okay? We can gossip about everyone else whenever you want. —Hee hee, Your Highness, thank you very much. You know I'm a gossip. —And I have no choice but to listen to your gossip to keep me informed, for sure I will become a gossipy old man like you. Adjusting the tassels that hung from his sleeves, the heir looked at his servant with a candid smile, patting his back as he stood on tiptoe. —Finished? —That's right, Your Highness. The room's doors were thrown wide by the ivory-‐clad twin maids, revealing a sleek, light-‐filled bedroom. The young man sighed, heading down the long corridor that would take him to the library, where Fritz ran away from the window like a breath, avoiding being discovered spying on the bird in his nest. The gray-‐haired man laid a book on the table, taking a scroll and silently unfolding it, his brows arched and lips sealed. The bony-‐bodied man did not read what the document said. He rolled up the parchment, throwing it on the table, surprising Benedikt who looked at the paper with huge eyes. —Your Highness, you look quite discouraged. —Fritz, I don't want to marry a dog woman, how about Miss Klotzbach? She is taller than me but a good pair of new boots can fix that, right? —What? What! —Ah, it's nothing Fritz, it's just a poem that we read and… —I don't remember a poem that says "dog woman" or that ... —There are many, surely you don't remember, do you, Your Highness? It is children's poetry, various fables to enhance the imagination. Fritz walked to the window with his hands behind his back as Benedikt leaned into his master's ear. —But what are you doing, Your Highness, do you want to die young? —More or less. I do not regret anything, I already read everything I wanted to read. I have had an honorable life. —This is not the way to expose your thoughts! —I think so. If I keep quiet I will wake up married to whom I do not want. I am a man, I have an opinion! The man in gray with the sharp eyebrows stared from him at his colleague in red. —If your Highness does not want to marry ... —Fritz, the master DOES. Right, Your Highness? —With Lotus, I marry with closed eyes. —Leave him alone, Fritz, his Highness just had a bad night and… I'll read him the agenda later. —Benedikt ...

—I swear. Fritz was holding a book whose pages were marked with different hanging colored papers. The prince let Benedikt arrange the chair in which he would begin to study. —Your Highness, the High Ones Festival will begin in two days. In it, the commitment between... —Fritz, I am aware of developments, thank you. The private Engagement Ceremony and Reception Party are scheduled for the evening, isn't it? I would have loved to be engaged with Lotus and not with Frauke. —Your Highness, Miss Lotus is three years older than you ... —I don't see the problem, at least she's not my cousin... that I know of. —It seems to me that she is already engaged, Your Highness. —Unfortunate news… She is a good, sweet woman, of kind intentions. Frauke has a slightly… challenging attitude. If she is to be my wife and future queen, she must abide by what I tell her, must she not? —You said so, Your Highness. Still, respect your parents decision by venerating the engagement to Miss Frauke. —But she's my cousin... on the other hand, Lotus has no blood tie to me. Don't we want to learn from the mistakes that happened in Siam? The children born of such unions were not exactly healthy… twenty of the heirs to the throne died as a result of the mistakes made by their ancestors. —Your Highness, you must think of more important and upcoming matters. —I am thinking of the good of my family. If I don't do that, how can I think about the good of the kingdom? Fritz lowered the tension on his shoulders, noting the bland expression of an overly immature heir. —I suggest you go over certain formal details before you go to the reception of visiting families, Your Highness. —I'd like ... to see the preparations for the Festival and the reception. Benedikt ran, placing his hand on Fritz's shoulder, who showed sharp eyebrows pointing to the ground. —Oh, Fritz, the master just wants to meet with the organizers and ... —No Benedikt, I want to see the musicians and hear their rehearsal and also see what they will do. Moreover, I would like to take care of these tasks as they are less gloomy. —Fritz, it's nothing ... Fritz lowered Benedikt's hand, wiping his shoulder. —Your Highness, we are not authorized to do so. —I will speak to her Majesty ... —I ask you, please, let's start with the lessons before we head to the dining room. The child released the air trapped in his light entrails, concentrating on the sound of the birds in the garden, seeking peace of mind as his head fluttered over different tasks such as his commitment, parties, visits, protocol, botanical books

read the night before, grandfather Äntalmarnen's stories and a review of the language spoken by the Sgälagan. Benedikt remained behind Fritz, who offered the chair so that his master could accommodate herself in front of the texts. The round man in red took a pen, a paper and, holding a book, used a chair with a back to begin reading. Before concentrating on the texts, the youngster looked at the ray of sunlight that came through the window, noticing a golden flash in the library window. Benedikt, who was looking at the bird in the nest, noticed such an object, picking it up delicately. Fritz looked his colleague up and down. —Now what happens. —Look Fritz, it's a very fine jewel, is it from Miss Frauke? —I forbid you to pronounce the name of a dog! Fritz raised an eyebrow, putting his pen in the inkwell as Benedikt ran to place the jewel on the table. —Fritz, this is gorgeous. It seems to be made with gold thread but ... —It's wonderful ... truly ravishing. —Doesn't it look like the ornaments on my tiara? The heir to the throne picked up the jewel, finding a tiny emerald on the stem of the metal sculpture. He compared both treasures painstakingly, acknowledging the work of an ancestor mentioned in the forgotten chronicles of the second library whose access was constantly banned. He was silent to avoid punishment. The little prince remembered the page where the name of the goldsmith lay covered by intentional ink stains, noting that the leaves on his tiara and the one that appeared with the wind were exactly the same and daughters of that author of the past. Why would they erase his name? —It must be from Miss Fra… your fiancée, no doubt. —Your Highness, may I? The jewel was loaned to the gray-‐haired man, who recognized the work, raising his right eyebrow, putting the object on a cobwebbed shelf in a corner without light. —Without a doubt a unique piece. However, this should not distract us from homework. Your Highness, from chapter twenty, please. —Oh, Fritz, how can you be so mean? —Benedikt, your composure. —Oh yes, it's true—Benedikt adjusted the kerchief around his neck, sitting upright—Fritz, how can you be so mean? —Give me patience, please ... Your Highness, if you don't start the reading, I'll start it myself. Wilhelm sighed, taking a copy of the book Fritz was holding. Going over the letters, the heir approached the reading.

—“Chapter Twenty: Royal Families of the World. First Section: The Celestial Family of the Millennial Kingdom of Siam ”… why do I have to study this if I already know? —Time to review it. Keep going before I lose my patience. —“Tracing the origins of the Celestial Royal Family of Siam is synonymous with embarking on the adventure of the great Immortals in Heaven, since the kings of these parts are direct children of those great men. The legends of Siam tell us of great wars in the Heavens, where a Sword shone to quench the thirst for blood among the Immortals. Some of these men decided to establish new kingdoms in… ”That is, did the Immortals who lost the war come to live in this world? —Correct, Your Highness. —And the kings of Siam are descended from those Immortals ... —So is. —Nobody believes that, not even the cat. Benedikt laughed but was forced to tone down his gesture when Fritz covered his mouth with the cover of the book in his hands. —Your Highness, the story of the origin of your Dynasty is completely the same. Just say “High” instead of “Immortal” and that's it . —Fritz, don't forget the Highs came because they wanted to, not because they had wars and things like that. —Right, Beni. Furthermore, we have PROOF of the existence of the Highs — Wilhelm closed the book, throwing it on the table — There are contraptions in the palace, we have their writing documented in books, clothing used by my ancestors, pieces of the carriages in which they arrived this world. It is not that it is a simple legend, it is a fact, in Siam they have all this? —If the inhabitants of such a kingdom believe that their royalty deserves to be revered, they must have some sustenance for history, don't you think? Wilhelm drummed his fingers on the table, searching the gray eyes of the patient tutor. The gleam of the small sheet of gold filigree peeked from the shelf, distracting the poorly motivated student. —Can I borrow the gold leaf? Fritz stood firm, opening the book to the page to be read. —Go on. —It's true what Benedikt says. —Here we go again… —It's not every day that we admire such minute and inspiring details and you want me to keep reading, as if my life depended on it. —Indeed, Your Highness ... these studies ... —Enough! I'll take this to Frauke and ask her who the artist is. And if it doesn't belong to her then ... it must be from the beautiful Lotus! Surely the Highs led to your trip and you are already in my dear Älmandur. —Your Highness, you are obsessed with that woman. Trust me, it's not for her convenience.

The young man snatched the jewel from his master. —Am I wrong to express my admiration for her? Will she deny me her beauty and virtue? —Your Highness, listen to me ... Running down the corridor of green tapestries being followed by Benedikt, the young prince dodged servants to go to the wing of the castle that he normally received visitors. Benedikt followed his master, laughing as he lifted the robe he used to drag. Fritz left his rigid position in the chair, staring at the bird's nest by the window. —The only thing I was missing. Spring has definitely gone to the poor prince's head. It reminds me of my dear boy the last time I saw him happy. Oh, by all High in Heaven, if they are equal in character… give me patience.

The Healer of the Serpent—Chapter 1—