Chapter 4 - Shoe Me Your Identity 

After Prince Philippe woke the day after the ball, he rushed through a meal in order to quickly arrive at the guard room where the shoe was held from the runaway young lady last night. 

He appeared as normal, but found his eyes constantly drifting towards the shoe the whole time Eric and the Captain of the Guard were talking. 

The shoes were gold with short heels. That meant the lady was relatively tall for the females around here, but still shorter then the Prince. 

"A comfortable height," the Prince responded when the captain asked him a question... "Ah, sorry, repeat the question."

"How many of us would you like to go with you today?"

"Ah.." the Prince nodded as he realised what they were speaking about. "I'd like to bring five of you. Two can stay with me, and three behind us, making sure no one runs away."

"Yes sir, your normal unit then?"

The Prince nods. 

The captain sighs and made note, then brought in the rest of the Prince's bodyguard squad from the break room.

"Alright, Gen, Eric, Sol, Dyar, and Bambie. You're with the Prince today. Keep him safe and keep on the lookout for the young lady who wore this shoe last night. Remember that we are planning to compensate her, not scare her, so be on your best behaviour once you find her, alright?"

"Yes Sir!" the five respond, before stationing themselves beside and behind the Prince. 

As they turn to leave, the captain calls out, "Gen, maybe it'll be best if you talk to the young lady. You might be the least intimidating for her."

Gen nods, making no expression on her face. 

The Prince and his guards left the palace and went to the town square. They made way to the largest cobbler and asked him if he knew who was the bearer of the shoes.

"I'm sorry my Prince, Sirs, Ma'am... But ummm, do you really expect me to know who wears what shoes in town?" He looked quite perplexed, but tried his best to appear polite and amiable to the Prince's query.

The Prince tilted his head, "You make most shoes around here, do you not?"

The cobbler nodded, "Yes, my Prince. But most of them are sent to the shopping district and sold from there."

"Do you not need to customise each shoe for each persons feet?" the Prince asked, knowing the Palace Cobblers were constantly checking his feet size to update the latest shoes. 

Dyar whispered to the Prince, "Just like not all clothes are individually tailored, Prince, not all shoes are individually customised."

"There are magi-tech that helps resize the shoes to each customers feet," the cobbler answered. "I create styles to fit each season."

"Oh, I see," the Prince tried not to sound disappointed. "Thank you. And keep up the good work, then."

He and his guards left and went to the shopping district. Once inside the largest clothing and footwear store they asked the receptionist at the counter if they knew the owner of said shoe.

The receptionist blinked rapidly for a minute, before taking a breath, a small bow and answering, "Your Majesty the Prince, Sir. I can check the catalogue for that style of shoe, and then which customers bought it. But, well, it isn't something I remember seeing before so I am unsure if I can find it easily..." she trailed off. 

"Then do what you can," Sol, with his deep voice, gruffed. 

"Yes, sirs. Excuse me then." She flicked through the stores hologram catalogue, but after an hour of searching, with the appropriate keywords, she could not find the shoe. 

"I'm sorry, but it seems as if it hasn't been sold in our store. Um, if I may, it does look quite old - although quite well looked after - so maybe ask over at Beyond new Restoration, as they are the oldest store in this center." She meekly bowed her head, hoping not to have have upset the Prince. 

"I see. Thank you then." The Prince turned away and headed to the store she mentioned. 

It was a dingy store at the far end of the centre, with a faded signboard saying 'Beyond New Restorations: You can't rush art'. Inside were two small clockwork men and a fraying senior citizen.

"Oh whoo whoo," the old man sat on his chair behind ridiculous looking monocular magnifiers as he took the shoe from Eric and looked underneath it. He added another magnifier that had been swinging above his head in front of the lenses in front of his eyes that scanned the bottom of the shoe.

"Whoo whoo," he continued, practically hearing his bones crack as he passed the shoe back, "Not one of mine, I'm afraid. Though the colouring isn't done that like that these days anymore. At least 20 years old." He creakingly slid off the chair and shakingly opened a drawer and took out a pen. Then a paper. 

He looked quite frail as he did so, as if he were to fall apart as a house of cards might fall down at the slightest bump. 

But as soon as the pen was to paper he had incredibly clean brush strokes. 

Three names he gave. "These ones are still alive. At least as far as I know." 

Once the writing was done, he went back to his shaky self and gave the paper to Sol, as Eric held the shoe. He laughed just as creakingly, which led to his hand moving wildly about, giving Sol a slight bit of difficulty in being able to accept the paper. But he took it as quickly as possible. 

The old man continued, "They were among the ones that used gold colouring in their shoes. Try out Bestilla first. She didn't make them, but sold only the types of things she liked."

After leaving the dingy and worn out store, they realised they had no knowledge of where to find the three names on the paper. But none of them wanted to go back to the man who could be heard cackling violently behind them. 

So they head back to their captain of the guard. 

The captain saw the names and raised an eyebrow. He knew of where one lived, and knew of a new Rose Guard recruit who basically knew all the people that could be known if they lived in town. 

So they headed out again to chat to the three shoe sellers.

At last, at the third shoe seller, they were welcomed with a, "Well, well! Doesn't that look like my shoe! Don't you dare be asking for the other one now ~ I promised 50 years they'd be good, but only if you look after them. Losing them doesn't count."

The brightly dressed lady adjusted her glasses and continued, in a more subdued manner, "Now hold on, where's the young lady I sold them to?"

"You remember them!?" the Prince gained hope. 

"Oh hoh hoh," the lady laughed, much less than a cackle, but more like speech and less like laughter. "I couldn't forget such a smile!" She coughed, "and also the help she gave me." 

"No pushovers like that anymore," she whispered. 

"Anyways, yes I recognise this shoe, now may I ask why you have one of them?'

"Ah," the Prince responded, "A young lady at the ball last night left this on the stairs."

"That sounds like an elaborate ploy to gain your attention," the woman responded with. 

"We think Rumpelstiltskin is involved in the humiliation of the lady, we are here to rectify that!" Eric responded with vigor. 

"Oh, I see. She is that young lady then," the woman figured out that they were looking for the girl of rumours who had been left quite undressed by Atrobell's latest magi-tech. 

"Hmm, hmm," her eyes sparkled. She still had a a score to settle with Atrobell, and so she gave the Prince the address of Rella's mother, hoping it was still the same. 

* END CH4 *