A Winter's Ball | Caesar x Joseph | JJBA

5 | Once Upon A Time

23rd November

Eleven days remaining.

Joseph awoke early, in a relatively good mood. Hungry as a starved lion, he made his way downstairs, only to be met by Duke Speedwagon and a few maids preparing breakfast. Robert greeted the Prince, in unusually high spirits, considering it was 8:15am.
"Good morning, JoJo! What are you doing up so early?"
The brunette grinned back to him.
"Morning, Rob! Well, you see, I had a jolly good sleep last night. So good, in fact, that I could not go back to sleep when I woke up early today." He looked around at the people in the kitchen. "Breakfast almost ready?"
"Almost."
"Splendid! I must say, I'm absolutely starved." He sat down at the table, on a large, cushioned dining chair, although it looked more like a miniature throne.
"You are not starved, JoJo." Speedwagon sat opposite him. "You are incredibly well-fed, and should be grateful for that."
Joseph pouted. "It's a figure of speech."
"I know that, but a Prince should always be literal, and to-the-point. Like your grandfather was."

A young black-haired butler appeared from the kitchen with two plates.
"My Prince, my duke, your food."
"Thank you, Alfred."
"My pleasure, sir."
The butler placed the plates on the table before the two men. They were identical full English breakfasts, consisting of three rashers of bacon, three pork sausages, baked beans, two fried eggs and two hash browns. The Prince poked at his egg, seemingly deep in thought.
"Uncle?"
"Yes, JoJo?"
"What was grandfather like?"
"Your grandfather? Well, he was a great man... Why don't I tell you the story of how I met him?"
"Oh please, uncle! That would be perfectly wonderful!"

Fifty-One Years Prior
1888

Jonathan stepped out of the luscious carriage. The nineteen-year-old was not supposed to leave the castle alone, but he was perfectly capable in combat, and besides, this was urgent. It was for the sake of his father, after all. The Prince crept quietly through the infamous snowy alleyway people called 'Ogre Street', a large sheepskin coat and hat covering his face enough to be unrecognisable without deep inspection.

The Prince heard a crack in the snow behind him. Before he could react, three me ran at him from the darkness of the alleyway. One attacker, a blonde man with a purple coat and matching hat, yelled out as he ran.
"You do the honours, tattoo! Use that shiv of yours to slice him right open. I want his guts for garters!"
"Right!" One of the men responded.

A man with a pink tattoo on his face sprung toward Jonathan, wielding a shiv. JoJo used his bare hand to grab the blade, staring directly at the man holding the handle.
"Look at this idiot, he grabbed my blade! In all my days, I never seen the like!"
The attacker then chuckled.
"Stuck, ain't ya? One quick yank of this knife and you'll be picking your fingers outta the snow for a fortnight!"
Jonathan started at the attacker and replied confidently: "Try it, then. The moment you pull, my foot will kick out at your groin with the force of a sledgehammer. I'm willing to see our transaction through, are you, sir? I'm fighting to protect my family from those who wish it harm, I doubt very much that your resolve is equal to mine."

As he said that, a second attacker leapt towards the Prince. The muscular man kicked the disarmed attacker into the armed man, sending them both tumbling backwards, upturning the recently-set snow.
"That's quite enough. Now, can one of you tell me who peddles Eastern poisons around here?"

"Tough talk. If you're looking to lose body parts, do stick around." The final man standing, who seemed to be the ringleader of the attack, Robert E. O. Speedwagon, flicked his greyed-purple hat. This action revealed several blades beneath the fabric brim of the hat, which seemed to fall away exceptionally easily.
"Observe."
The man ran toward Jonathan, who raised his arms defensively.
"Don't tell me this is your first proper rough-up! If you keep blocking like that, it will be your last, too!"
Jonathan kicked the tattooed man's shiv toward Speedwagon, but to no avail. He dodged it rather easily. The attacker threw his hat at the nineteen-year-old, like it was a frisbee. The moonlight reflected off of the shimmering metal brimming the accessory as it traveled through the air.