In a small medical office located in Austria's administrative capital, Dr. Roderich Edelstein, a young psychologist, psychiatrist, medical practitioner, and classical music enthusiast was unknowingly awaiting what would be the greatest case of his life.
Dr. Edelstein's body was hopelessly slumped in his vintage, (1880s-era, to be exact) ornately carved, chair. He appeared virtually lifeless, save for his stomach's natural rising and falling and his obnoxiously loud snoring which reverberated throughout the modestly sized psychiatric office, shaking his various framed degrees, which hung precariously by several black-and-white photographs of him and his former wife, Erszebet. Yes, Roderich, contrary to popular belief, was a snorer. Despite all the assumptions all his patients and acquaintances made about the classy doctor's bodily functions and noises, Dr. Edelstein was a loud snorer, he belched every time he ingested carbonated water, and periodically wet his trousers. The most elegant man in all of Vienna (and, possibly, all of Central Europe) had a human body like everyone else's.
But, Dr. Edelstein was no man.
He only appeared human.
He was the personification of the country of Austria, better known as Dr. Österreich by his patients.
He was a country doctor who lived in the city.
He was a healer of nations, employed by the U.N. in all of its international glory. He was about to meet his most challenging case since the time England caught the Euroscepticism bug.
And he loved his jobs.