Joseph grew dizzy from all the condemned buildings, stretching up to six storeys, and apartments with barely any room between them, all surrounding him as if they were a gang of trolls outflanking an unwary, adventurous boy in a child's book.

Dammit! I'm a doctor, not a dungeon explorer...

There were people everywhere... Wandering around drunk, relieving themselves, and making out in plain sight. Usually the streets were silent and dark at that hour, but it was New Year's Eve; the crowd waiting to watch the fireworks at the Magistrate's house was just an extra hassle.

It’s like I'm looking for a needle in a haystack...

A bottle flew in Joseph's direction and he narrowly avoided it. The sound of shattering glass filled his ears.

I’d better find my way out of this pandemonium... Jesus Christ!

He came to something of a central courtyard, more square than round, where six alleyways met. Most days, it served as a place for the tenants to set up tents for buying, selling, and socialising a bit. The alleyways would take you to several other multi-family buildings.

He decided to follow the smell of alcoholic urine so he could be sure he would be heading towards the darker lanes of the slums. He was trying to put himself in the prince's shoes... If he had been trying to escape from the guards and avoid attention from the common folk, this seemed to be the best option.

The boy squeezed himself into the crowd. And he regretted it instantly.

Isaac Newton was a dirty liar when he said, "Two bodies cannot occupy the same space.” Joseph could’ve sworn on his mother’s honour that there were at least 12 people on each paving stone that was still in its place on the lane.

The more he forced his way forward, the more the crowd forced him back. Since there were only men there, Joseph took a deep breath and shoved everyone and their fathers unrestrainedly.

"Move! It's an emergency! AN EMERGENCY, FOR FUCK'S SAKE, YOU BUCKETS OF MANURE!"

Once he started to yell and swing at the drunkards, who smelled of sweat and gin, Joseph finally found some room to breathe. He began to run, silently thanking Mrs. Novákova for the hearty meal.

The lad reached the other side of the square and stood before the first three alleyways, which would take him to the northeastern part of the slums.

The third path was the most fetid the three, the odour of urine and faeces wafting from it. Rats the size of Yorkshire terriers barred their teeth at the young doctor as they ate whatever made up the masses of putrid waste lining the streets.

I haven’t got time to search meticulously, so I'll just follow my instincts.

He took a moment to catch his breathe and rest his arms, sluggish from rushing so many people at the same time. Then he entered the dark corridor, trying his best not to step in anything or enrage the rats.

The walls and ground were bathed in moonlight, and he noticed several lines of urine running down to the ground and between the cracks.

Better not touch anything either...

He felt a gust of wind in his hair when a dark figure passed like a bolt before him into a corridor on the left.

The corridor would only take you to a dead end, so the person surely was not a resident.

Joseph grabbed a bottle, breaking it against the wall to use as a weapon, just in case the person ended up being some sort of pervert. Then, he followed after them, slowly.

The pale blue light of the night soon revealed a familiar figure, pounding on the walls in vain, searching for a way to scale them like a trapped cat.

"It's a dead end. You cannot go any further here."

The prince turned to Joseph, and the doctor saw he had lost his fur cloak. He also had some additional wounds: one on his forehead and another on his right shoulder. He frowned and contorted his face into a grimace.

"You... You work for them!"

Joseph remembered the broken bottle he still held in his hand... A fellow with a weapon in a dark, lonely corridor... Indeed, it wasn't a very friendly picture. He raised his free hand, putting it in front of his face in a protective, peaceful gesture.

"I don't work for anyone but myself! I just want to help you!"

"Why?"

"Why not?"

The dark-haired boy staggered, losing his balance, and leaned against the wall for support. Joseph noticed his legs shaking as much as his hands.

The blood loss, the cold... He had to get him out of this place right away.

Joseph carefully went closer, keeping his eyes on the other boy. With his hand still raised, the young doctor turned it around.

He offered his hand to the other boy.

"Trust me, please. You need help."

He noticed the dark-haired boy was unarmed and felt even angrier at the cowardice of those monsters, willing to chase an unarmed boy, and on such a festive night. His coat was made of burgundy corduroy and covered in French brocade. No one other than a monarch or a highly ranked merchant could afford something like this, so...he was indeed a prince.

"This bottle is to protect us from the predators that roam the streets. That's all. Believe me, those perverts will try to rape anything with two legs. It's dangerous here, even for men. And it’s especially dangerous if they suspect you are royalty."

The prince kept his eyes on him the whole time, trying to hold back a grimace of pain. His skin was sallow and grey now. He began to look around, his eyes unfocussed. He eyelids fluttered, seeming to grow heavy.

Oh, lovely! He's going to faint right here!

Before Joseph could even finish his thought, the prince’s eyes rolled back into his head. His legs lost all strength and he began to collapse, completely unconscious.

Dropping the bottle on the ground, Joseph quickly caught him round the waist. The prince’s arms and head hung motionless from Joseph's arms. His eyes were shut and his mouth slightly open.

He's too heavy for me to carry to my house on my own...

Then, Joseph remembered.

Oh... There are a lot of people in the square... Perhaps some of them might help?

He had no choice.

His arms were still somewhat weak, but he proceeded to put the prince in his back. It took several long moments to get his balance.

"I just need to reach the square! It’s close! I can do it!"

Joseph turned around, only to see those three bloody guards already pointing their swords at him.

"Oh, fuck..."

A cold sensation grew inside his chest. His mouth went dry.

"Well, well, well... So you lied through your teeth to me..."

Joseph remained silent.

The guard lightly pressed the tip of his sword to his throat.

“You're under arrest, blondie. Put him on the ground or I'll kill you.”

Joseph was shaking. Nodding in agreement, he waited for the guard to give him some space. Then he carefully rested the prince on the ground, kneeling by his side. He noticed the prince's clothing was ripped and worn out, not because they were poor quality, but because of some sort of tussle...

Most likely those men had tried to get rid of them before kidnapping him to erase any clues about the boy's disappearance, since he was easily recognisable as a royal. But he had fought back. These were signs of violence.

Joseph took a deep breath, shutting his eyes. Then he untied his hair and scraped some mud from the ground, spreading it across his face and hair.

The guards laughed.

"Are you mentally ill or what, boy?" the leader asked.

"Maybe the Archbishop should 'interrogate' him, too..." another one said.

Joseph stared at the unconscious prince's face, clenching his shaking fists.

"You, get the prince, and you, the blondie. I'll need to call-"

"HEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLP!"

Joseph screamed at the top of his lungs.

The guards just stood there for a while, pale, slack-jawed, and with wide eyes.

"HELP! FOR GOD'S SAKE! THEY'RE MOLESTING US! THEY WILL-"

The leader grabbed Joseph's hair, slapping him twice and kicking him in the stomach. The boy fell, dizzy, holding back tears from such senseless violence. The guard grabbed his face and covered his mouth, forcing him to stand and look at him.

"Screaming like a little girl, huh? You don't deserve what you have between your legs, molly boy."

The guard proceeded to press his thigh into Joseph's crotch. The boy's eyes watered. Desperate and disgusted, he fought back, trying to shout, but the guard shoved his blade against Joseph’s neck. He saw the other guards were busy tying the prince's hands.

"Actually, you're pretty. I would kill you, but I have a better idea."

That cold sensation ran up Joseph’s spine... The guard was probably talking about selling him to an underground molly house.

What sort of people are these? They’re really working for the Church? And there go my studies, my chance to be respected again... Everything.

The guard threw Joseph against a wall. The boy hit his head and the world spun around him. He knew the guard was trying to knock him out.

Should I pretend I fainted and try to escape later?

It was then that Joseph saw several moustached faces behind the guard, with pure horror painted across their faces. They were dressed in festive, but dishevelled clothing, still carrying their nearly empty bottles.

"Hey! There’s the perverts!"

Thank God!

"Kill those perverts! Kill the scum!"

"BACK OFF!"

The guards tried to stop them with their swords. One pulled a pistol, shooting towards the crowd, but it was useless. There were over 50 men, all enraged, drunk, and eager to take their frustrations out on anyone they could call a common enemy. Joseph figured he should just let herd mentality do its job.

In that dark night full of broken glass, all Joseph could hear were bestial screams, and all he could distinguish were the shapes of hands and legs dragging other legs and hands... And blood.

His head was still cloudy from the hit, so he took a few deep breaths to regain his awareness. He crawled to where the prince was. Some of the men were already untying him.

Soon, a pair of hands helped Joseph to stand. He felt a bit dizzy, but there was someone supporting him.

“Do you need some help, lad?”

“Y-Yes, please.”