The first sight to greet the boys is a horse drawn carriage raging towards them.
"I knew it!" Sam screams, cowering in the street. "I knew I was going to die today!"
Fred and Joe jump to the safety of the sidewalk, dragging Sam along with them, unceremoniously dropping him when they get there.
"Geez, Sam," Fred chuckles. "You would think you've never been nearly run over before."
"Because I haven't!"
"I can think of three separate occasions where that has happened to us."
"Guys," Joe cuts them off. He forces them to look in his direction. "Check this out."
Across the street, in large, bold lettering, the words "kill the king" are painted on a wall. Each word is painted blue, white, and red respectively. A grotesque caricature of a king hanging from a rope is drawn underneath. His eyes are Xs and a bloated blue tongue is popping out of his mouth. There are smaller stick figures surrounding it that appear to be cheering his death.
To their credit, the people walking on the street pay it no mind. They simply go about their day, like nothing is out of the ordinary.
"Kill the king?" Sam runs his hand through his hair, tugging at the ends, and pulling a few strands out. "Where on Earth did you take us? What did you do?"
"I just wanted to find my uncle. So, maybe he's here?" Joe scans the crowd, looking for a familiar purple top hat and curly mustache. Nothing stands out to him, but it's hard to see over the three-foot-tall wigs and voluminous dresses everyone is wearing. Joe bites his lip. "He has to be here."
"Maybe you're the reason we're here, Sam," Fred argues. "You were the one who started talking about the revolution. We all know that thing only needs one trigger word to kick on. Killing a king seems pretty revolutionary to me."
Sam's fists clench. "This isn't my fault. I didn't even want to warp!"
"Calm down." Joe stops the search for Uncle Joe to end Fred and Sam's bickering. "Let's just look around for a bit and see if my uncle is nearby. If we don't find him, I promise I'll take us all home with the- oh."
"Let me guess. You don't have The Book?" Sam's arms fold across his torso. He cocks an eyebrow at Joe.
"It must've slipped out of my hands when we warped." Joe rubs the back of his neck. "It's gotta be close."
"Great, just great." Sam huffs. "What happened to your amazing Time Page skills? I thought you had better control over that thing!"
"I do! I swear! But accidents happen." Joe turns and starts walking down the street, glancing in shop windows for any sign of The Book or his uncle. Fred and Sam move to keep up with him. "I promise, I'll have us home in no time."
"Where have I heard that before?" Sam grumbles under his breath.
Fred, enjoying the moment, observes everything going on around them. He tips his hat at passersby. "Sam, I really think you should lighten up a bit. Have you tried yoga? This isn't so bad. For a revolution, I'd say this is pretty calm. No fighting, no yelling. People are chill. How is this even considered a war?"
Sam opens his mouth to counter Fred, but noticing the peacefulness of the streets, changes his mind. "You're right."
"Thank you. I'm not completely stupid, you know," Fred teases his nerdy friend, a silly grin appearing to match his mood.
Sam rolls his eyes. "Something isn't right. If this is a revolution, why are there no gunshots or screams?"
"Are you saying you want there to be gunshots and screams?"
"No."
"Maybe it just hasn't started yet, but the tensions are building." Joe shrugs, more concerned about dealing with the real reason why they came here. "We don't know the exact date or anything. We don't even know where we are."
"Let's just get out of here before the actual fighting starts then."
The trio continues their walk down the busy streets. Aside from a few stray looks, no one pays them any attention. They don't fit in with their clothes or hair styles, but no one seems to care or stops to ask them any questions. None of the people they walk past are Uncle Joe and none of the bookstores have The Book.
"Can we take a break or something? I'm starving." Fred rubs his stomach, which is growling profusely.
"You just ate almost half a cake. How does your body burn so much energy?" Sam stares at Fred with raised eyebrows. "You are a mystery and an enigma to science."
"It's called being an athlete. I'm constantly active."
"All you've done is walk for fifteen minutes," Joe argues, but concedes to Fred's request to find food. "Let's check out this street market over here. Maybe The Book will be there."
"When is it ever that easy?"
Joe ignores Sam snarky comment and leads them into a street market. Stalls selling everything from clothes to food to art line the narrow street. Vendors shout at anyone walking by to come look at their goods. All of them claim to have the cheapest prices and highest quality in the whole city. Each stall is vibrantly coloured, causing passersby to take a second look, but at seeing the items that are being sold, walk away quickly before the seller can lure them in.
It doesn't take long for Fred to sniff out the food section. Shoving past Joe and Sam, he scurries down the sidewalk in search of the intoxicating smell. His stomach growls louder and louder with every step he takes. "I'm going to eat every piece of food that I see."
Joe and Sam have to practically run to keep up with him. The desire for food gives Fred an almost unnatural speed. They soon find the source of the smell. A stand selling fresh baked bread waits patiently for its next customer, a timid-looking girl stands behind the counter. Unlike the other vendors, she doesn't call out to the people passing by. She merely waits on her stool, knowing the smell of bread alone will draw in customers.
Fred charges into the stand. The girl jumps, covering her face, and shaking.
"Your food smells incredible! I want to eat it all." Fred nearly starts drooling at the sight of a baguette resting on top of the counter.
The girl peeks out from behind her hands. "You're not going to hurt me?"
"No." Fred tilts his head, momentarily distracted from the food. "Why would I do that?"
"You just came here so fast. I thought-" She shakes her head, any fear falling away. She beams at Fred, now ready to be a hard-bargaining vendor. "Never mind, you want all of my bread? You can have it. Fifty francs."
"Fifty what?" Fred scratches his head, confused by what the girl is asking and by the smell of bread muddling his thoughts. "I don't think I have that."
"Then no sale." The girl pulls the baguette off the table and out of Fred's sight. "Please leave so people who actually have money can come here."
"Sorry, miss." Joe is late to the conversation, but can tell what happened. "We're a little short on cash right now. But we do have something we can trade."
The girl lifts her eyebrow, and motions for him to continue.
"You see, we're performers." Joe whips out a deck of cards, something he always has on him. Fred and Sam groan behind him, knowing exactly where this is going. "I'll do a magic trick, and you give us free bread. Sound like a deal?"
The girl pauses, considering her options. She looks into Joe's eyes and opens her mouth.
And spits in his face. "I can't live off of stupid magic tricks, boy. Find somewhere else to get your food."
Joe grimaces and hurriedly wipes the spit off his cheek, gagging in the process. The trio walks away. "Well, she was rude."
"Dude, when will you learn no one likes your silly card tricks?" Fred snickers.
"They're not silly. They're-"
Joe's cut off by a raucous clanging at the end of the street. Shouts fill the air as three people dash out from behind a stall and sprint down the street, right towards the boys. It's hard to get a good look at them. They slip through the crowd with ease, as if this is an everyday occurrence for them. They wear dull clothes that are clearly not in style. No one gets a good look at their faces and they are dressed in black cloaks to hide any distinguishing features.
Well-built, burly men jump out after them. "Thieves! Stop them!" They encourage the crowd to apprehend the runners, but no one steps forward, too stunned to do anything but gawk. They thunder down the market, shoving anyone who gets in their way and even some who don't.
The supposed thieves burst through the crowd, moving forward with their escape with ease. A blast of air whips across the trio's faces, and they are suddenly pushed against a wall. One of them turns back to yell a quick, "Sorry!" temporarily revealing a feminine face with emerald green eyes before dashing around the corner and out of the boys' sight.
"What in the…" Fred trails off. "I'm not crazy, right? You guys saw that too?"
Both Joe and Sam nod, like Fred and the rest of the shoppers they are stunned and confused. They each groan and step away from the wall, rubbing sore shoulders and necks.
Fred pats his pocket, noticing a lump that was not there two minutes ago. "Uh, what is this?" He pulls out a small, but heavy, black bag. Opening it up, he finds several coins made of pure gold piled up inside. His teeth clench. "Oh, no."
"You there, halt!" A booming voice barks at them. "You are under arrest for stealing from the royal Paris treasury."
The trio takes one glance at each other, and knows exactly what to do next. "Run."