So, let me get this straight. You were attacked by bandits, who kidnapped you from your castle in Nepal-

"Naples."

Im sorry, Naples, you ended up in this city by means you don't remember without your shoes, wallet or any form of ID and you don't know where you are?

One eyebrow of the policeman curved neatly upward in a clear display of disbelief, the amusement on his features reflected easily by his companion. There was never a day that went by in this job that was without it's amusements, especially in this city, yet the young man standing before his partner and himself had proven to be one eccentricity neither of them would ever forget. He was either insane, or high as a fucking kite. They were going to have to arrest him either way and yet for a few moments at least, unethical though it was, it was almost fun tease him. Dorian, for his part, had failed entirely to perceive any sort of jest from either of them. Their words made little sense and yet almost nothing in this kingdom made sense. He'd blundered into the park entirely by accident, desperate to get away from those who had been chasing him, nearly struck down several times by large armoured animals that moved far faster than any horse. The park had been almost a relief. Trees and grass and water remained the same and yet his clearly confused manner had concerned someone, the 'police' as they called themselves, having arrived shortly after with a string of questions. He has never met these 'police' before, that a rank he has surely never heard of in any army and yet he is rapidly beginning to understand why. They were utterly incompetent. Had they been in his army he would have had the both of them hanged for idiocy if nothing else- the second man attempting to stifle some sort of laugher as Dorian's grey eyes sliced back towards him, narrowing upon him coldly with the sort of look that generally saw people bow and rush away from him.

"We are not amused."

His warning however, seemed to have fallen on deaf ears, both men now attempting to contain their laughter. When he found whoever was in charge of this wretched Kingdom he would be entirely sure to insist both these men were disciplined in some fashion for their foolishness, his words decidedly more clipped as he offered them now, forced to speak in the English tongue since they seemed equally incapable of understanding either his French or Italian- uneducated heathens.

"I require to speak to your superior else be taken to the home of the nearest lord where I might acquire passage back to the Kingdom of Naples or Gerace. I also require a horse and a blacksmith, my sword has become dulled from my last encounter with the bandits and since I am clearly expected to navigate this kingdom without an appropriate guard I will require my sword to be made sufficient."

Your what?

Did nobody listen? It's is Dorian's turn to stare with utter disbelief now, the soldiers, police, whatever they were before him so beyond incompetent they were hardly worth the breath he had wasted on them. The moment he found out who was in charge of this land he would inform them thoroughly of the inadequacies of their army. Perhaps he would wage war on it to teach them a lesson for this utter disrespect on every level, the Fae Prince moving to reach behind him, unsheathing the rather large and bloodied rapier he has used to get himself away from the bandits only hours before- holding it out towards them with a smooth and practised ease. This however, seemed to result in another flurry of movement, neither man seeming to believe this was a joke any longer as both moved back from him in a hurried manner, both pulling from their belts some sort of blackened object that they proceeded to point towards him as Dorian simply frowned.

Armed, suspect is armed and dangerous. Put your hands up!
"Who are you, might I ask, to dare give me an order?"
Drop your weapon!
"I will not drop my weapon you incompetent fool of a man."

What they intended to do with their decidedly un-sharp looking weapons he hardly knew, the way in which they pointed it towards him seeming to indicate they believed them to be some sort of equable threat, Dorian merely allowing his eyes to roll slightly, entirely incapable of perceiving the threat of a gun. After all- he had hardly seen a gun before, the young man having resided exclusively within his own castle for the past five hundred years- his appearance within the city far more chance and fate then any true attempt by the man to have left his homeland. That he had not only shifted kingdoms, but countries, remained entirely outside his knowledge, along with the knowledge that it was no longer 1467. The policeman, for his part, was still content to yell, Dorian decidedly displeased with his tone, a mere snap of his fingers resulting in the activation of his own unique talent- his form disappearing abruptly from before them. They were unworthy of his presence and as such he hardly sought to bless them with it any longer. Whatever shouting they had proceeded to take up he no longer cared to hear, Dorian entirely invisible to the both of them as his rapier returned to it's sheath and he merely strode away. Allowing his form to return to visibility only once he had evaded their sight, bare feet poised atop some sort of flattened stone path, one he was barely given to appreciate before a ringing bell saw the eternally youthful man look upward. The sight of a bicycle headed towards him saw both eyes widen, Dorian utterly incapable of perceiving what this monstrosity was, the ringing bell failing to move him. What sort of horse was this? Where was it's head?

"I command that you halt in the name of- "

Any further words were knocked from him entirely as the cyclist collided with him, Dorian sent flying backward and onto the grass, the steel horse rider ejected from his seat and sent slamming onto the flattened stone path several feet ahead as people seemed to come rushing to the riders aid, leaving Dorian to sit upward with a groan. One hand moves to idly brush the grass from his white linen shirt and black pants, his other hand rubbing at those thick dark locks of tousled hair and the sore spot upon the back of his head, fingers pulled away to eye the blood there. A cry of shock erupting from him in some effort to get the attention of one of the peasants crowding around the fallen rider and his apparently dead and unmoving steel horse. How dare they attended to a peasant over a Prince!

"We are bleeding!"