With feet that stumbled over every stone in the road, a familiar man made his way through the winding streets. The scene of the world lay just at the periphery of his view; all the while, the excitement of the sun played through the city rousing the spirits of those who lived for the day. Shops tended to the task of pushing the last of their goods, as they raced to clear their stands before the encroach of the inevitable event that would swallow them whole. Though, it seemed to do little to the one whose face was covered black and blue.

With a stumble, Paulus fell to the ground, just on the cusp of the busy street, staying in the company of only himself and the shadows cast by the people who walked by.

The fresh bruises on his face, marked his skin, as the faint outline of a shovel left only the questions of who and why. From the folds of his clothes, he pulled forth a small purse, no larger than a pouch and gave the tanned item a shake. Not even the faint hint of a jingle permeated from within it, as the sobering silence brought about an unwanted reality. For a short while, he sat there, his eyes closed, the cold touching him and his extended unbranded hand, as he silently begged for a few coins.

Time and time again, stray figures that crossed through the otherwise narrow space gave Paulus little more than a glance, as they worked to avert their eyes and hide their wealth. Though, compassion was soon to arise, as one who rushed past, threw two green copper coins at his feet.

With a sigh, Paulus slowly began to move, reaching for the coins and quickly putting it into his previously empty purse. "I guess I will be able to get a drink... Don't really care to see what's going on. I just wonder if the inns will be open now?" Yet, before he could rise, a figure at the far end of the alley caught sight him.

"Hey you!" A loud and commanding voice suddenly bellowed, matching down through the alley. His armor chimed, as the metal that made it struck his long spear and accentuated his rough features. "No beggars allowed in the city, especially not today! Get over here!"

"Well, I guess I should see what is happening..." Paulus quickly said to himself, rapidly leaping up with the grace of a squirrel, rushing out the alley and vanishing into the crowd that grew larger with each passing moment.

The crowd pushed and buckled, as the weight of each of them pressed against one another, like the waves that met a cliff.

"What's all the commotion about?" Paulus asked, pressing against the crowd and struggling to find space. "Something I should know about?"

"The King is dead," an old man alongside him replied, keeping his eyes forward on the scene.

Paulus was silent for a moment, reflecting on the words with a blank stare. "I should have been clearer. I should have said, is it something I should care about?"

"Without a King the Ottomans will invade," the man replied with an angry tone.

Paulus was quiet for another moment, turning his eyes in the direction of the others. "So, is something supposed to happen here?"

"They brought the King's body already," the man replied with anger. "Now shut your mouth, I can't hear!"

Taken aback, Paulus stood there with the others, like a sheep in the herd, unbeknownst to him that a pair of quick hands made even faster work of his newly acquired wealth and the purse it lay within.

With fingers that knew where and how to climb, a hooded figure plucked from its place, Paulus's purse and added it to his own. Though, like an awakened dragon, he was voracious and searched for his next prey. Moving a few souls over, he eyed his next easy task, blind to what was about to occur.

"I'm going to get that drink," Paulus mumbled to himself with a faint smile finally satisfied. Yet, before he could depart, his eyes grew wide, as his hand reached for his lost purse. Throwing his eyes about, he searched for where it had gone, finding nothing. His eyes combed the ground to no avail and before his heart could flutter, he looked to those besides him. With a hurried set of steps, he rushed to catch that which caught his eyes. "Hey. Hey! The hell you think you're doing? The hell you think you were going with my purse?"

The pickpocket was silent, his brown eyes staring back in shock. Barely a stubble grew on his chin, though the wrinkles that were his shock forced a temporary jump in his age that was otherwise half of that of his unexpected and unwanted company.

"What! What do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

"Caching a pickpocket," Paulus replied with a tighter grip.

"What makes you think—?"

"Don't bother," Paulus warned, as he interrupted. "Just give it here and we won't have any problem. Everyone gets one. And I need to get my drink before my hangover catches me. So, give it here and I won't point you out to the watch."

A silence held the scene between the two men, the turbulence of the procession pressing just beyond them. The rumble of the steps, and the cries and mourns that forced the birds to take flight, seemed like an island in the middle, somehow untouched by the drama of the world beyond.

"Just leave it!" The pickpocket ordered, suddenly pulling his arm back, giving Paulus a shove and rushing off. Pressing through the crowd, he fought against the seemingly endless wall that lay before him.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," Paulus grumbled, with his eyes fixated upon him like a beast on the hunt. "Get back here! Don't make me run!"

With a glance, the pickpocket looked over his shoulder and saw the man that was his shadow quickly approach. He tried to break through the mob, a jingle to his step, as the purses he held in his embrace were dropped one after another. With stumbling steps, he broke through the wall that was the mob and began his unobstructed run through the city. Lefts followed rights, as panted breaths flowed from his lungs. Beads of sweat fell down his skin, his face growing red. Though, at every turn, at every step that he hoped was an opportunity to grasp at the victory of an escape, there behind him continued his pursuer.

Paulus's breaths were heavy, his limbs growing weak and his pace seemed to slow. Though, before he could succumb to his own limitations, with all his force, he threw himself forward with a lunge.

"I got you!" He shouted with a mix of pride and anger, as he grasped him and held him to the ground.

"Just leave it fatty," the pickpocket replied, pulling and pushing to free himself. "Just leave it..."

"Fatty?" Paulus asked through panting breaths. "I might not have worked in a while, but I am no rich man and I am no fatty."

"It was a compliment, just take it," the pickpocket ordered, grinning through his heavy breaths. "Next time I will call you old man if you're that offended."

"It was not a compliment," Paulus grumbled, raising himself and lunging once again after the man. "And I'm not old."

"Older than me," the pickpocket replied with a faint laugh and smile, as he once more began to run, though was quickly stripped of his smile. From his periphery he caught sight of his pursuer but a finger's reach away. His pace hurried, trying to force the gap between himself and his victim to grow, though his efforts were too little too late. For just as he reached the edge of the alley, and back into the embrace of the busy crowd and all it brought, a hard tackle sent him forward and to the ground.

Both men fell gasping for air, though there was no relief as they lay on the ground. Flailing their arms at one another, both tried to subdue the other, though to little avail. Their strikes were weak, and their placement wrong, as they struggled to hold onto their dignity.

"HEY!" A voice called from nearby.

Both men paused their struggle, looking to the source.

A captain of the guard by the name of Andreas filled their sights, storming towards them, his weapon drawn and ready. A pink scar ran from his chin to his cheek, as his head lay devoid of hair, with merely the stubble of what had once been. Moving as fast as his limp would allow, he approached with a retinue of half a dozen men along with him.

"The hell is going on here? What are you two doing? Who attacked who? I want an answer! NOW!"

"He didn't attack me," Paulus quickly explained, raising his hands and gently pushing the point of the spear out of his face and towards the pickpocket. "Was a... it was a bee."

"A bee?" Andreas demanded. "There are no bees this time of the year! What do you take me for?"

"Yeah, a bee..." The pickpocket echoed, slowly pushing the spear point back towards Paulus. "A big bee. It looked fat and old. Ran right into me, caused all this trouble, sir. But, I don't think it will be any problem now."

"Bee ran into me first and stung me, had to deal with it with a little bit of force," Paulus added. "I can say we are sorry. And if you leave us, we will be out of your hair... I mean—"

"Clear the road, before I have you both in the pillory, or worse," Andreas warned with a rage on the tip of his tongue, running his fingers over his barren head.

"Right," Paulus agreed, standing up and taking his purse out of the pickpocket's possession. "That's mine," he whispered, yet before he could take it and vanish, he was suddenly stopped in his tracks by a tight grip that burrowed into his shoulder.

"I didn't realize it before," Andreas said, showing his teeth to the sun. "You were begging earlier, weren't you? You were the one who ran away from me, weren't you?"

"Who me?" Paulus asked back, quickly shaking his head. "No, that wasn't me. I wasn't in any alley."

"I never said anything about an alley," Andreas replied, the smile growing even larger across his face. "I remember, you were in the alley over there earlier. Isn't that right? The one who didn't listen. The one who tried to get away. Isn't that right, beggar?"

"Looks like you are in trouble," the pickpocket said under his breath with a slight laugh, as he raised himself off of the ground and began to make his departure. "Have fun with your friend. I have places to be."

"Where do you think you're going?" Andreas demanded to know, quickly moving his free hand to Lucas, and holding him tightly in his grip. "You really think I'm going to let the second beggar go while I deal with the first? Do you think this is my first day on the job? I know your kind always go in groups."

"I was, ugh, I was just going to clear the road," the pickpocket replied, his voice soft and his composure pulled back. "And I'm not a beggar..."

"Oh, no, no," Andreas said, wrapping his thick arms around the two and beginning to lead them forward. "Only a beggar would wear such patchy clothes. And as to the road, I have a better plan. You see, I have a place where I like to put people. A place that is currently empty. A place I think both of you will enjoy spending a little time."

"It's not a dungeon is it?" Paulus asked.

"You think you belong in a dungeon?" Andreas asked back, his smile growing unsettlingly large. "You want to go in one?"

"No, not what I said," Paulus whispered.

"I do have family I need to get back to," the pickpocket stated, trying to wiggle free of the grip, but finding heavy fingers burrowing deeper into him instead.

"You don't have to worry about that," Andreas replied with a sinister smile. "You see, all you and your friend here did was a bit of begging and a bit of a brawl. Right?"

"He's not my friend..." Paulus mumbled so far under his breath, that not a soul heard.

"And we have a fitting punishment for people who see my time wasted," Andreas continued. "You see, I could have you flogged, but I think a little time in the pillory will suffice. What do you think about that?"

"Are those the only options?" the pickpocket asked. "Maybe a warning instead? A firm warning always worked with my old man."

"There is always the dungeon," Andreas replied smiling. "We like to brand those that make their way to them. So, what's it going to be beggars?"