He sighed. Shifting in his throne-like chair, the Doctor took his small porcelain cup and sipped, long and slow. His servant stood in a corner, his eyes cast downward. "Do you want another dessert..." A loud, reverberating knock interrupted him mid-sentence. The native hurried to the gate, opened it a crack and stuck his head out. An Indian had arrived with his child, who had been stung by a scorpion. The moment the servant saw them, he felt a pang of guilt. He was absolutely certain that his master would refuse to treat anyone who was considered dirty by upper class people like him. However, he told them, in the ancient universal language shared by the natives, that he would convey the message. As expected, the rebellious man was almost offended that any of the villagers had come to be treated by a doctor of his power. Ordering the servant to tell them to hurry, he returned to his solitary soliloquy. He hadn't had a patient in weeks and was getting very restless. He didn't understand why it was like this, because he had everything he could want: a large villa, fine porcelain, silk, plenty of money. In fact, he was the richest man in the entire city, except for the king himself. He didn't need the patients to survive. But one thing was definitely missing from his life, the one thing he once had, but soon lost... He wasn't always rich. There was a time when the Doctor had not fine china, but cheap plastic, not tea biscuits, but toast as hard as stone, dressed not in silk, but in rags. There was a time when he was just a Somebody, a Nobody to everyone else. Nathaniel Laurence Clarke. No one except him and his older brother William knew the name. They had no memory of their parents, other than the fact... in the middle of the paper... ...is, Samuel paused. "Why didn't you say anything before, boys? Of course you're hungry! Young children like you need nourishment! The cook has prepared appetizers and bouillabaisse. Afterwards you can enjoy the wonderful bath that awaits you upstairs. Does it sound nice?" They couldn't help but nod silently. They didn't understand a word of what he said had been prepared, but it seemed like a marked improvement over the mushy, grey, porridge-like liquid they were forced to swallow at home. Together they headed to the dining room for the meal. Everything was organized perfectly for them. The food was served right under their noses, piping hot and steaming. Looking at each other, they began to smile. They just realized that they could get used to this luxurious lifestyle... they were going to live this way for quite some time.