J-Jesus Christ! He's bleeding too much!

The dark-haired boy's lips were turning somewhat blue. There was no time to waste. Pointedly ignoring the young man's previous request of keeping his distance, Joseph approached him, sitting in the closest chair.

He held his left hand, which was already so sweaty and cold, and the other boy trembled, eyes wide open in disbelief.

“I told you to-”

“Let me help you. I'm a doctor.”

“Don't speak to me, Doctor." The dark-haired boy removed himself from Joseph's grasp, pulling his cloak over his injury. His hands were trembling in plain sight, but he was also grimacing and frowning. His amber eyes were like those of a wounded falcon, ready to go against the doctor if he dared to touch him again.

Joseph's hand hurt where the young man had slapped it.

“Excuse me? You're bleeding like a slaughtered pig!”

“SILENCE!”

“Why the hell are you being so rude? I'm just trying to help, for fuc-”

He came back to his senses when the other boy started to pant again. Yelling must have made him out of breath.

The dark-haired boy raised his head, eyes half-closed, and a quick line of sweat ran from his forehead to his chin, painted with the orange and red lights of the tavern. His eyes met Joseph's.

“If anyone asks you... you...don't know me. And I...just wanted...to sit.”

Joseph opened his mouth in confusion at that command.

BAAAAAAMMMM!

A sudden rumble startled both boys and everyone in the tavern.

Someone kicked down the front door.

Joseph saw three men, all dressed in grey uniforms and black tricorn hats. Two of them were huge, with thick mustaches and unsheathed swords, and they surveyed the whole building with their eyes. The third, most likely their leader, was smaller, but still had a muscular physique. On their hats and coats, there was a crest with a cross, a sword, and a tree branch. That was the coat of arms of the Jesuit Order.

Guards? Church Guards?

The "leader" promptly went to Mrs. Novákova's counter. The poor woman, in her festive folk garments to celebrate the New Year, was so pale. Her five sons, who helped her with the customers, surrounded her. Joseph had never seen a fight there, even with so many foreign clients. That is why he liked being there so much.

“Excuse my manners, Madam... We work for the Roman Church, and we have come to arrest a dangerous criminal, in the name of the Archbishop De Beenhower."

He pulled a creased sheet from his coat and placed it on the counter. It was probably a searching mandate, given the worried looks the lady and her sons exchanged.

“We'd like to search around, yes?”

“Oh! Of course, Mein Herr!”

Before she could even finish her affirmative, the gorilla-sized guards were already making their way through the tables, in Joseph's direction, swords at the ready.

Joseph didn't know if he was more terrified of the guards or of the fact that all the eyes in the tavern were on him, and this might forever ruin his precious anonymity.

“They're coming over here!”

“They are after me. Do as I told you. Please.” The dark-haired boy took a deep breath, gathering his strength. He supported his weight on the table with his hands, and stood in an instant.

Joseph thought he was planning to escape before the men could reach the table, but before he could make a move, the young man was surrounded with three swords at his neck.

“I implore you to not stir up any drama, my prince, for this place is full of innocent people," the shorter guard hissed in the boy's ear.

Joseph's eyes went wide.

Prince?

The "prince" struggled a bit, but was easily restrained by the gorilla-like guard's arms.

“It would be quite unfortunate for your father...if someone were to be hurt because of you, don't you think so?” the guard said, holding the boy's face, forcing him to look up and exposing his throat to the sword.

One of the other guards punched him in his ribs, close to the injury.

“Ugh...” He staggered, short of breath, but the guards kept him standing.

Joseph swallowed.

The boy was about to faint from the injury, and they seemed to be playing with him, like evil brats do when hunting an animal.

Even if he was indeed a criminal...that didn't seem right. Especially coming from someone working for the church.

“If you don't follow us in silence, we'll kill everyone in this tavern and send their heads to your father.”

The prince raised his head, his falcon eyes glaring in anger and despair. The other customers didn't hear it, but Joseph did, loud and clear.

The doctor's night had escalated from missing his family, to listening to sailors' songs, to sharing his table with a stranger, to being in danger of being executed for…reasons?

His legs were shaking so much that he knew he would fall if he tried to run away right now.

Another thing for my father to be ashamed of, I suppose...

His eyes couldn't turn away from the Shakespearean tragedy happening right before him, in which he now had an unintentional role, along with everyone in the tavern.

The dark-haired boy continued speaking, now in a lower tone, grinding his teeth:

“Does your church kill innocent people for the sake of their business? Who are the real demons here?”

The guard smiled in disdain, and instead of answering the prince's question, he looked over at Joseph.

“You, lad! Do you know him?”

The prince stared at Joseph with wide eyes, growing even more pale.

The young doctor remembered his "orders".

He looked back at the guard, frowning.

“N-no. Not at all, mein herr. He just asked to share the table, since, as you can see, this tavern is full-up.”

The guard stared at him for a while, and Joseph kept his gaze.

“Very well. Take the prince and leave.”

The guards dragged the boy out as if they were carrying a sack of potatoes.

However, before they turned him around, his eyes met Joseph's.

And he smiled at him. A peaceful smile of relief.

Joseph blushed, and his chest suddenly felt so tight. He realised something.

The young man had refused his help because he was just hiding, and didn't want to involve innocent people.

The doctor swallowed hard. He stared at his empty plate again, clenching his fists until they hurt under his gloves.

Who are the real demons here?

His words echoed in Joseph's head, his heart heavy with remorse about shouting back at the boy when he was just trying to spare everyone.

How could I be such an imbecile? If I had noticed it right away, I could have been more of a help to him.

The young doctor instinctively raised his head again to look at him one last time.

The prince stopped suddenly, straightening his body.

“Move, Gypsy Prince!”

Suddenly, he stepped on one of the guards' feet like a wild horse, shoving into the other one's stomach, and punching the "leader" in his chin, making the man spin and lose his balance.

“Whoaaa!! Nice punch, lad! What a lad!” The men in the tavern shook their cups in a toast, completely drunk and unaware of their nearly imminent slaughter.

Joseph couldn't believe his eyes. A small hopeful smile stretched across his face.

“HEY!”

The guard who had been punched composed himself, but it was too late. The prince was staggering, but already running across the stone street towards the slums.

“I'll kill you! YOU PEST!” The three troglodytes proceeded to chase him again.

“Hey! Joseph boy! Come here and watch them!” Two men invited him to see the scene unfold through the window.

“That lad is running to the tenements. Only those who know them very well can navigate them without getting lost.”

“He's done for good. If those guards don't get him, the eccentrics and gangsters in there will.”

Joseph's smile disappeared completely. The "prince" was still in danger, and now the guards weren't the only threat.

He fumbled inside his pockets, grabbing some change.

“Please pay Mrs. Novákova for the beer, Mr. Adamovsky!”

“Er... Of course, lad!”

Before the man could even take the coins, Joseph was already on his way across the street.