A woman's angry scream echoed in the streets of Acre. A squad of Teutonic knights, currently keeping peace in the city, soon arrived at the place. The German men couldn't understand the words, but soon understood what had happened. Near the stalls in the market a merchant's wife kept a young, terrified looking boy from the wrist.

The leader of the squad, named Hans, stepped forward. The boy couldn't have been more than thirteen years old, skinny as a skeleton, black hair a complete mess and filled with lice, the gaze of his blue eyes bouncing from the merchant's wife to the knights. The woman snarled angry words and twisted the boy's wrist, making him helplessly squeal and fall from his knees to his back.

"I'll have his hand for that" one of Hans' men said and stepped forward. "Not here" his leader commanded and took the boy's arm, nodding to the woman.

"Don't worry, he will be taken care of."

The lady crossed her arms, spat on the boy and and walked away while yelling in Arabic. Hans looked after her, then looking at the boy he was holding – only to see him grab a handful of sand and throwing it into his eyes. As a reflex he loosened his grip around the boy's arm and he felt it slip away through his fingers, hearing footsteps quickly tapping away.

"Son of a- don't let him get away!" he screamed and as he cleaned his leaky eyes, his men sprinted after the boy who had already disappeared around a corner. After ten minutes the exhausted men returned. "I'm sorry" said one of them. "He was too quick."

After the sun had already set, Hans was walking alone on the empty streets of the docks. The defeat and the sand still stinged. He turned to the piers, walking in his thoughts, when he noticed a small figure sitting on a barrel, nibbling on something. As the moon came from behind the clouds and the boy lifted his head, Hans recognized him. It was the same boy. Now, he had seen and dealt with about a dozen beggars on the same day, but the same blue eyes and gaunt face couldn't belong to anyone else.

He walked quietly towards the barrel and the boy sitting on it. "What's up, kiddo?" Hans asked kindly and put his hand on his shoulder. The boy nearly got a stroke. He flinched, dropped the half-burnt bread he was eating and was already going to run away, but couldn't leave – Hans squeezed his shoulder too hard and also grabbed the other one, holding him still.

"What are you doing up at this hour?" Hans asked, still with the kind tone.

"Nothing. Leave me be" the kid snarled in German.

"You know, I should cut your hand off. Want to do it right now?" asked the knight and pulled out his dagger. The little color on the kid's face faded away immediately, but knowing he couldn't leave, he just bowed his head. "Which one do you want" he mumbled.

Hans sighed and looked at the dagger. Then he put it away. "Walk with me" he proposed and the boy looked at him, unsure how to react. "I promise I won't do anything, if you don't do anything. Run away now, and I'll make sure you will never eat again" Hans said. The boy rose on his feet and with Hans' arm on his shoulders they walked down the quiet street.

"What's your name? How old are you?" the older man asked.

"Luca. I'm sixteen and a half" the kid said and scratched his head.

"You're German, are you not? What are you doing in Acre?"

"Do you really want to know?" Luca mumbled and avoided Hans' gaze.

"Sure I do. What happened? Wanted action, adventures?" the older man grinned. Luca shook his head and looked away, to the sea. "No" he then sighed quietly. Hans' smile turned into a sorry expression.

"Your parents treat you wrong?" he asked softly.

"What would you know?" Luca hissed. "You can just let me leave. I don't need help, I don't need anyone! I'm fine like this! My parents are none of your business, my... my... life ain't none of your business..." Hans grabbed his shoulders and turned face to face with him.

"You're not going to fuck with me, son. I was about to cut your hand off. If my friends find you, they'll kill you, and they will make it look like a bloody accident" the knight growled. For a minute they stared into each other's eyes.

"So. Your parents mistreated you and you slipped on a boat to anywhere. It took you to Acre, then" Hans then said with a kinder tone.

"Yeah" Luca sighed. "My mom sleeps with men for money and she gives dad the money she gets and then dad keeps mom fed, clothed and safe. Not me, though. They both like to beat me and they didn't give me food."

"That's bad news, son. I understand why you left. Is life better here than in there?" Hans asked.

"I don't know. I get pushed around by the merchants, but sometimes someone gives me food. Before I left, they wouldn't let me ever go out" Luca shrugged. Hans nodded as a gesture of understandment. By the time they were already walking without the older man holding the younger one.

"Would you like to join the Knights Teutonic?" Hans asked and Luca stopped. "What?" he asked.

"Yes. You're certainly an agile young man and with some training and food you would make a great aid for us. I'm sure you would be accepted. We get new recruits every now and then, and when you already speak German, it would be nice to know that you don't need to steal anymore. What do you say?" Hans gave the boy a friendly smile. And, for the first time, he saw Luca smile.

"I'll think about it. I'll come here tomorrow night" the kid said and Hans' smile widened. "Good luck, Luca. I really hope I'll see you again" he said. Luca nodded, turned around and walked away. Hans sighed out of relief and continued on his way.

Seven years later twenty-three years old Luca, holding a small child in his arms, sighed quietly. A woman next to him dried her tears while holding an older child by the hand, sobbing as the child looked at her helplessly. "Uncle Luca" he then said, pulling Luca's sleeve.

"Yes?"

"Why is mom crying? Where did dad go?" the child asked, with a sad look in his brown eyes. Luca kneeled down and looked at the child's eyes. The same brown that Hans' used to be. "I'm sorry, Mart" he said quietly. "Your father is now in the arms of God. He will not return."

Mart's eyes widened and he looked at the gravestone in front of him. "Never?" he asked. "No. Never" Luca said.

"But will you go?"

"I will stay as long as I can" Luca said and wiped a tear from his godson's cheek. As he rose back to his feet and walked away with the grieving widow and her two sons, he glanced over his shoulder.

A man in white, standing on the roof.