It was a bad day to be at the Royal Palace, for no one wanted to be on the path of the King’s fury after discovering his son was gone. Clad in dark red, restless eyes darting everywhere, the monarch screamed to the guards stationed outside the prince’s chambers. 

“How? How did this happen? You were supposed to keep this door shut until further notice!”

“And we did, Sire,” the tallest of the two mumbled, trembling in his shoes. “No one came past us. We’ve only opened it for you.”

“If that’s true, then where is the prince? How did he leave?”

“Unknown, Your Majesty,” the other guard replied. “The only logical explanation is through the window.”

“I hope you’re not suggesting my son grew wings and flew out of the tower because that would be absurd.”

“Of course not, Your Majesty. He must have climbed out somehow. Perhaps he had help from someone else.”

“Or he paid you to open the door and you two are lying to my face. Often, the simplest explanation proves to be the correct one and nothing seems simpler than that,” the King growled. “Do you wish to change your story while I still have the time?”

“We’re not liars, Your Majesty,” the tall man spoke again. “I swear on my honor that we obeyed your orders without question. We were not involved in this incident, but will gladly do whatever we can to sort this out,” he dropped to his knees, urging his companion to do the same. “We are yours to do as you choose and will gladly take whatever punishment we have in mind even if we feel it’s undeserved. Do as you wish.”

“Of course, I will. I’m the fucking King! You have a silver tongue, but it remains to be seen whether you speak the truth or not. Perhaps a stay in the palace’s dungeon will make you change your tune.”

Accompanying the King during his mental breakdown was the Captain of the Guard and the Count of Montparnasse who had returned to the palace grounds just in time to watch the new developments go down. Both had diverging opinions on the matter at hand and didn’t hesitate in making their voices heard. The Count was the first to speak, commending his display of strength.

“I applaud the decision, Your Majesty. It’s obvious these two rats have betrayed your decree and are now hiding behind false oaths of loyalty to get away with it.”

“And who are you to speak ill of my men, Count?” the Captain offered him the snidest of gazes. “Sire, I understand how unfortunate this situation is, but is prison time really necessary? Please allow me to speak to them in private. I find it hard to believe they have something to hide, but if that’s truly the case, I’ll make them confess. You have my word.”

“While I normally trust your judgment, old friend, I’ve already made up my mind,” the King waved his right hand dismissively. “They are to be incarcerated immediately and stripped of their uniforms and privileges. I don’t want ‘talks’, I want a proper explanation of what the hell happened here and I’ll get it one way or another. See that they are lashed until the truth is out and report back to me when you’re done.”

“Your Majesty, please! I must insist...”

“No, you mustn’t, and you won’t unless you wish for any fault of them to fall on your shoulders as well. I take no pleasure in doing this, but this is too severe of an event to be dealt with anything other than a firm hand. I want these men punished and my son found. Send every man you can spare looking for him, but have them be as discreet as possible. If word goes out of how easy it is to fuck things around here, we’ll start losing the people’s respect as well as our neighbors sooner than we think. Are we clear?”

“Crystal. It will be as you say,” the Captain bowed while the Count rubbed his greasy hands behind his back. Court intrigues and confusion were always a sight to behold and a distressed ruler was easier to manipulate. There was no better time to stir the pot even further.

“Your Majesty, if I may, what do you intend to do with the prince once he’s discovered and brought back here?”

“Why are you asking me this’ Do you have something in mind you wish to share?”

“Yes. I do. Like you, I too am concerned with the stability of our nation and too many things have happened recently to put it at risk. It would be wise for your justice against the throne’s heir to be as swift as the one you’ve just demonstrated here. It will show everyone in the palace once and for all that you do not hold blood above honor and the good of the kingdom, as f there was ever any doubt of it, of course.”

“Yes,” the sovereign scratched his chin. “I see what you mean. Phillip already crossed the line when he expressed his intention of chasing that mysterious woman. He undermined my authority and his position and now he’s done it again. I know he sees his defiance as a grand romantic gesture, but it’s nothing but the folly of youth. I’ll deal with him accordingly when this matter is solved. Thank you for your insight, Count. It was useful, as always.”

“I aim to please and I hope the good prince learns the error of his ways sooner than later.”

“You’re all dismissed,” the King yawned. “Captain, you better bring me good news the next time you’re in my presence. Now get a move on.”

The group disbanded in silence, furrowed brows everywhere. The Count was the only exception, smiling on the inside at yet another small victory for his Mistress. If things continued as planned, she would claim her rightful place in the court before anyone realized what was at stake, and he couldn’t wait.

* * *

At the same time his name was being cursed across the palace’s corridors, Prince Phillip cursed himself. His search had proven fruitless thus far and the longer he spent roaming the forgotten alleys of a kingdom he didn’t recognize the less enthused he felt. A man used to nothing but the finest goods in life surrounded by countless others with barely anything to call their own was not a happy man.

“Oh, father, what is this madness?” he thought as he saw a group of beggars lining the street before him. Most of them were old and crippled, either missing one arm, one leg, or both, but there was also a young woman among them with no more than fourteen years old and already expecting a child. Her eyes were liquid pools of pain, begging the world to end her suffering before she was tempted to do it herself. The prince walked through them, with the crystal boot still tightly wrapped against his chest, his heart aching more than the human rational capacity for speech. Bony hands reached for his vestments, desperate for a glimmer of hope that was not to come, and his mind was immediately flooded with images of the feast in his honor and all the waste that followed. For every delicacy consumed, three or more were tossed away, countless black bags laid to rotten by the sewage that could have been used to fill stomachs in need. “Damn it!” 

Phillip entered another alley and then another, and one more, a labyrinthine succession of accumulated sorrow closing the world around him. Nauseated by the never-ending display of scarcity and despair, he sat down on an upside-down wood bucket to catch his breath. As he did so, the pale sunlight illuminating his distraught face was blocked by a group of four shadows. Two of them carried improvised machetes and the other two sported rusty yet still deadly short blades.

Looking up, he saw their faces, or what posed as such. The leader of the group was a mass of crooked teeth and wrinkled skin with a jagged scar circling his right eye. He was accompanied by a drooling sack of meat who had never worn a shirt in his life, and two identical earth-skinned brothers that used to complete one another’s sentences until one of them lost his tongue in a bar fight and the other sacrificed two fingers trying to get it back. Of all the things they wanted to do to him, talking was at the lowest of the lowest tiers.

“Looks like we got ourselves an outsider here, boys,” the mask of teeth hissed, throwing spit in every direction. “Are you lost?”

“What do you want?” Phillip asked, still sitting down.

“To help you out, of course! We’re a group of good samaritans always looking out for those in need, and right now it looks like you need to be rid of your clothes and whatever it is you’re clutching hard, so why don’t you be a good little stranger and give away everything of worth freely before we’re forced to take it from you?”

“You’re seriously trying to rob me?”

“Unless you want to pretend this is some sick fantasy, yes, we’re really doing that, although I prefer the term “alleviate”. Fancy little shit, isn’t it? I learned it from the last pretty face that came wandering around where he didn’t belong. Not really sure what came of him, but the last I saw him, he was even uglier than us."

“In the name of the King, I order you to leave me and go about your business. I do not wish to engage with you.”

“Oh? Did you hear that, boys? He orders us to leave him alone, and he’s doing it in the name of the King himself! Oh wow, I guess we have no choice but to comply and crawl back to our cages unless, of course, you have a different idea. What do you think we should do to ‘Mr. Orders’ here?” 

“Can I cut him open, boss?” the tower of wobbly man-flesh asked, one droopy eye looking at him and the other twitching uncontrollably. “He’s so clean! I want to see if his blood is the same color as ours or not.”

“How about we spank him first and then you cut him open? Doesn’t that sound good?”

“Yeah, let’s,” he shook his potbelly and grinned, the gaping hole between his lower set of teeth growing like an eldritch abomination about to gobble the nobleman whole.

“Agreed,” the talkative of the other two nodded and moved in for the first strike.

The prince responded to the sudden assault with a quick dodge to the right. Standing up, he kicked the bucket straight into the balls of the first brother. The mute one didn’t flinch and cut the air with his trusty knife. Phillip evaded the second attempt with a twist of his right wrist before hitting him with a knee to the chin. The mountainous threat and the sarcastic leader attacked at the same time from opposite directions, the machetes executing a perfect circular strike slightly above his head. Phillip hit the largest man’s elbow with an open palm, pushing it just enough to create a gap to escape the bottleneck. Then, he regretted back to Beggarville, the other tormented soul’s plight echoing in his ears once more.

“Come back here, ‘Mr. Orders’!” the leader of the group of thugs snarled. “We’ve only just begun to play with you.”

The prince scoffed as they all came rushing on him. Taking advantage of his athletic physique, Phillip led them across another worn-out corridor until he reached a circular pathway where half a dozen merchants were tending to their vegetable and fruit stalls. With the open space favoring the bold, he drew his own blade and waited for the inevitable attack.

Few people would say that four against one were good odds, but he had years of fighting lessons with the best swordsmen in the kingdom under his belt, while his opponents relied on brute force and a distinct lack of technique to get things done. It didn’t matter if they all came in at once or not. With no real obstacle hindering him, the battle was as good as won. 

The hulking beast struck first, machete grazing the top of his head as the other hand threw a misguided punch. With a single blow, Phillip drew red around his wrist forcing him to drop the weapon on the floor. He then kicked it to the side where it came to a standstill, tucked away between a handful of pumpkins. The two brothers coordinated their attack, coming in from above and below simultaneously, yet he danced out of their way with the same elegance he had demonstrated at the ball, sending them both flying with a cheeky souvenir in their ragged pants.

“This would be a good time for you to run,” he said to the remaining hoodlum, whose confidence levels had suddenly dropped below zero. 

“Shut up!” he charged at him like a raging bull, missing every blow. He tripped forward and landed face down on a pile of fresh manure. It smelled terrible, but even that was an improvement of his existing condition. Phillip placed his right boot on his cheek and said,

“This is what happens when you don’t listen. Try to come at me one more time and we’ll see who ends up doing the cutting.”

Without another word, he exited the scene under a choir of gasps and other exclamations of surprise, rapidly realizing his mistake. Displays of talented swordsmanship were rare in that part of the town and if the gossip reached a single guard’s ears, the chances of lying low would vanish completely. Still holding on to the boot as if his very existence depended on it, he continued the almost impossible task of finding his perfect sin.