Immortal Ballad *ON HOLD*

He found me...

He found me...

England was nothing like he imagined. People, dogs and beggars everywhere, and there was a stench in the air that made everything look the same. There were not numbers nor words’ telling which street was which, or at least none that he could see. He walked around aimlessly for an hour before he found his place. The cab he had taken wouldn’t go into that part of town, though, so he had to walk.

After finding the address and entering the premises, he found himself in a small home, barely bigger than his own room at home. This is my house, he questioned, Where’s the bathroom, kitchen? Dropping his belongings, Irial closed the door, a cold draft making its way into the small shack as he did. He shivered at the sensation and pulled his jacket closer around himself. Wouldn’t want to catch a cold now that he had so little money to support himself and his studies.

He’d decided on studying medicine, a noble and praised profession that would not only get him recognized but a long time to complete. He didn’t want to finish his studies and return to the house he’d only just left. His mind made up firmly to take the course that would take up not only most of his time but the most time to complete. Being a doctor took skill and discipline, both of which he sorely needed.

Sorting out his papers, he headed out. He knew not where to go and so, as he walked the lonely streets of London, he asked for directions but to those who looked honest enough to tell him the correct way. After going the wrong direction a couple of time, he finally arrived at the Winchester School of Medicine.

Its grand door way gave the impression of a highly pricey place but, if his information was correct, it was anything but expensive. Legit enough to get him certified yet low in budget that he could afford, just what he was looking for. He entered the hall, where a young man met him with a wicked grin and told him to follow him.

“Quite an accent you got there,” the young man said. “Where you from?”

“Italy,” he replied. The young man nodded and continued to lead the way, their footsteps bounced off the walls.

Irial looked around the hall they were walking through, his eyes memorizing every inch of it. It had glass cases with paintings inside. Beautiful paintings some of which he recognized as an artist from back home. He couldn’t quite place his name though; he’d never been one for art. It was Leonardo something... but he wasn’t that famous and so it puzzled him as to why his paintings were in England.

“You know,” the young man began. “Your uncle is scary. He had the minister all riled up and told everyone to bugger off while they spoke. Not that that’s odd but the way he said it, the voice he used scared the pants off of me.”

“Scusi? My uncle?” Irial asked stopping, no one knew he’d come here, no one.

“Yes, your uncle.” He pointed to his left and bowed before leaving Irial, confused, to stare at the grand door in front of him. He shook his head trying to clear it before gripping the door handles and opening the door to his new future.

After an excruciating first week of studies, Irial crashed onto his bed exhausted and drained. All energy left him as the day progressed, his hands trembled from all the writing he’d done and his brain all but shuts itself off even if he still has so much work to finish by daylight. He sighed loudly and rubbed his face before, unwillingly, pushing himself off the bed and back to his desk covered with theses and terms that he not yet understood.

He’d thought, on the ride over, that it would be difficult, sure. He, after all, had to speak in a whole other language as well as writing and reading but he never imagined that it would be this hard. Everyone in his classes had parents from families that were riddled with doctors. Irial’s had merchants, servants, and bankers but no doctors of any kind. That, in its own way, gave him a handicap in the eyes of the other students who seemed to pick on him whenever they could.