Heya guys! There're a few things I'll say before the chapter (you can, of course, skip this and read the actual story). I've noticed a couple typos in my before-the-chapter paragraphs, and I am fully aware of them. I wish to keep this story as grammatically correct as possible! Forgive my past mistakes! Also, this is sort of a short chapter, but it's not as major as the previous. So, Sally Forth, and as I have said in past chapters, Enjoy!

Chapter 4: Labyrinth

Arthur bolted down an alleyway and spun around a corner, charging at full speed, his cloak flying behind. He emerged from the narrow street and called a carriage to avoid running through crowds, which could turn into quite a bit of a scene.

. . .

As the carriage bobbed up and down against the cobblestone road, Arthur planned his next move. That little scamp could be anywhere, at any time. This makes it more difficult. Knowing how he acts, he would be near some shop that we go to quite a bit, or a shop down a familiar street… I'm sure somebody (maybe even something) led him there and is staying with him… Otherwise words would be flying down the street about some ill-mannered urchin quicker than I can say "Bob's your Uncle". …Oh, why did I think of thatphrase? Am I really trying to sound like some old man…?

The stagecoach finally slowed to a halt. He slid down from the coach and continued on his journey, going through a desolate street. Even if the probability of finding Alfred here was low, it wouldn't sully his name by running around like a bloodhound hooked on a scent.

. . .

Ugh… 5:53 P.M. Curse it all! Arthur thought. It's been, at the very least, 45 minutes since I realized Alfred was lost! For all I know, some stranger could have kidnapped him… sigh… but knowing how reputations can fluctuate just by staring at a rowdy pauper boy (like Alfred…). Why must British culture be so… complicated these days…? Being a pirate was just so blooming dandy compared to all these rules…

Wait! I'm getting myself all off-topic…

I better find him soon.

And, with that thought, Arthur pushed himself to search even more, across the narrow streets, the alleyways, and any possible location Alfred would wander off to.

. . .

And Arthur had traversed through the many roads of downtown London, checking candy stores, alleyways, pastry shops, antique toy stores, any place where a rebellious child would run about and cause mayhem.

With every twist and turn, Arthur could feel the soles of his feet burning with every step on the cobblestone streets he took. It was like the stones were hot coal, sparks of heat wavering off of them into the air. Arthur cringed.

At times he would stop and lean his back on a brick wall and check his pocket watch only to find out an even longer amount of time was lost. 6:27… 6:45… 7: 12… there was a near certain possibility he wouldn't retrieve the wild little boy in just a day.

But he knew… Alfred would be somewhere with a friend. It was just how the boy was.

But who could that friend be? Surely his shy little brother wouldn't run off all the way here to take him around the streets and cause havoc. Arthur would surely need to scold him later…

Arthur surged on. The first situation to focus on was to find Alfred. His cloak flew behind him as he continued his tiring search of the downtown city of London which was now a hopeless labyrinth.

Alfred, you ill-mannered, frivolous, uncontrollable lad. You better be safe when I find you or you'll be getting Francis' cooking instead if mine! And that's a promise I'll be willing to keep!