Chester found himself shoved through a door and onto a wooden floor.  Someone removed his mask, and cut his hands free.  Painful light hit his eyes, as he found himself in a small white-washed room, with nothing more than a straw pallet and a bucket.  There was only one small window, which was lashed tightly, and was probably to small to fight out of.<br/><br/>Standing over him, brandishing a wicked knife, was a weasley little man with a pock marked face and a stench of dead fish.  Chester realized that the man must be the source of the smell and though the man to be a fisherman, a fishmonger or more like a bloody pirate.  He wondered if he was being held near the docks.<br/><br/>"Who do you think you are!  I am crowned Prince Chester of the House of Tucker.  Do you know that kind of trouble you are in?"  If he hoped to frighten the little man, it did not work.  Seconds later, the man was crouching over him with the edge of his knife at his throat.<br/><br/>"I ken who you bleedin' are, yer royal high and mightiness, but I dinna ruddy well care!  Now shut her flappin' gums and keep quiet, or I'll cut yer throat an' have done with it!"  The knife pressed against his throat, drawing a line of blood.<br/><br/>Despite having been tied up for all this time, Chester decided that there would not be a better opportunity to try to escape.  He grabbed the man's wrist with his tired hands and wrestled the knife away from his throat.  Pain shot through him as the man kneed him in the groin, but Chester struggled on, bringing his left leg up and throwing in over the man's head.  The man fell backward, slashing at the air, before Chester sat up and shoved the man's hand, dagger and all downward into his chest.  Crimson blood spat out, as the little man screamed.  Chester wrestled with the knife which had lodged between two rips, turning it sideways to go in better, and then sawed at the man's flesh.  Within seconds the man stopped screaming and Chester, covered in his enemy's blood, grabbed the knife and stood stiffly.<br/><br/>Seconds later another man burst through the doorway, wielding a cudgel.  He was a blocky fellow who outweighed Chester by at least 50 pounds.  He had a broken nose and beady little eyes.  "Bloody Hell!  You killed me mate!  I'm gonna rip you steam to stern, no matter was the master says is to be done with you."  His accent placed him as a member of the city itself, in a rougher district, where as Chester had not know the other man's accent's origins.<br/><br/>The large man lunged at him with some speed and Chester barely avoided the cudgel, which had been aimed at his head.  He slid closer to the man, since he only had a short weapon, and attempted to stab the man in the stomach.  His blade pierced that man and he howled, but reached forward and gave Chester a bear hug.  The knife was lost between them, as the man squeezed Chester until he though his ribs would crack under the pressure.  The man was using his cudgel for extra pressure.<br/><br/>Chester raised his booted food and started stomping on the man's instep again and again, until he felt something crack.  The man let go and fell back, grabbing at his broken foot, as he lifted it,  Chester dove forward and rammed his shoulder into the man's injured stomach, catching him off balance.  The big man feel backwards and smacked his head into the floor.  Chester dove forward and grabbed the man's head and continued pounding it into the ground until he felt his skull break.<br/><br/>Tired, and bloody, Chester looked around.  He had never been in a real battle before, or killed a man.  He suddenly realized the was going to puke.  By instinct, he reached for the bucket.  After being sick, he grabbed the fallen knife and brandished it.<br/><br/>When no one else came to attack him, he crept around the corner and peered into a small house with rustic furniture.  There was a pot of water of over the fire which was barely hot yet.  He stripped off his ruined shirt and used a cloth he found on a table to clean off most of the blood.  Searching the hut he found a tunic which was to big for him and put it on anyway.  He also found a block of cheese and some bread, which he wrapped up along with a skin of very cheap wine.  He knew that he had traveled so distance and was not sure how far he was from the palace.<br/><br/>Stepping outside the hut, he could see that the sun was hanging low in the sky.  He was in a rough section of the city which he did not recognize, with garbage in the streets and huddled folk in tired clothing, selling meat pies from carts, or selling themselves.  A thin prostitute leered at him.  "Looking for a good time Gov?"  He ignored her and started down the street quickly, the knife naked in his hand.  He needed out of this neighborhood before night feel.  There might still be others searching for him.