The Doctor felt the panic before he could remember what was causing it. He opened his eyes and saw an unfamiliar, filthy floor. His head hurt and he could feel a sting on the left side of his neck.

Finally, it all came back to him. The memory hit him painfully, and he immediately tried to put himself into a sitting position.

"Clara," he croaked.

"Clara!" he managed to yell.

A hand soon covered his mouth. He didn't expected it to happen and he tried to rebel against the tight grasp that had come out of nowhere, but the more he raised his voice, the harder the hand pressed against his skin and muffled the noise he was making.

"Keep quiet, moron" a voice hissed in the darkness.

The doctor sopped moving and didn't make any further noise, other than the furious beating of his hearts he could clearly feel inside his chest. The hand retrieved from his mouth and he looked up at the man crouching in front of him, now that his eyes had gotten used to the dim light coming from a few, very sporadic, candles. He could see that it was a tall middle-aged man, with dark,long, hair. The first impression he had was that he looked sick. He had deep eye bags and he was unnaturally pale.

"Where am I? Where is Clara" he asked, harshly, but keeping his voice down to a low tone.

The man, probably deciding that the Doctor had calmed down a little, took a step away from him and sat down, resting his back against the wall.

"You really can't imagine where you are?" the man asked, almost smirking. "And as for your lady friend, I'm afraid that there haven't been women here for many years."

The doctor gaped at him.

"She's not my-" but he trailed off, distracted by his surroundings.

He hadn't noticed until that moment that many other people – all of them men - where distributed along the walls, just like him and his new friend.

"Really? It didn't seem like it. Not many people wake up in here and still manage to think of anyone else other than themselves," the man laughed.

The doctor ignored his comment and he started looking around, searching for clues for where he might be. And if there was a way out.

It was a long, rectangular chamber with a low ceiling and no windows. The Doctor had a different body temperature than human beings, so he had a different tolerance than them regarding the weather, but he knew perfectly well that it was freezing in there. He didn't need to be a hyper-intellingent, two-thousand years old alien to figure that out. Seeing those trembling bodies all around him was more than enough.

He licked his forefinger and used it to analyse the air. He thought for a few seconds, before turning back to address his neighbour: "We're underground. This must be the dungeons of some old building."

The man raised an eyebrow, amused. "You don't say."

He looked at him, outraged. "Feel free to join in any time soon," he snapped, angrily.

"Oh, I'm perfectly aware of what this place is, thank you."

The doctor could see his amusement raising and he wasn't able to explain the meaning of it. Before he could say anything, the man added, expectantly: "You're not from our world, are you?"

The doctor gaped at him, horror-struck. "How did you know?"

His neighbor laughed again, obviously trying hard to keep the volume of his amusement as low as possible at the same time.

"It doesn't take a genius, really," he explained to him. "It's the only way to justify why you don't know where you are. There is only one possibility, when people get kidnapped, over here."

The doctor frowned disapprovingly at the man's smile. If it weren't for the room he was seemingly locked in and for the general condition of their surroundings, he would have assumed he was being made fun of.

He didn't say anything right away, trying to figure out in what kind of situation he was in and what he could do about it.

But, truth was, he was lost in his sheer ignorance. He usually enjoyed not knowing, because it had become something of a rarity after more than who thousand years of time and space.

He didn't find it very enjoyable now. Not with Clara missing. God knows what could have happened to her. He felt the panic increasing again, creating an annoying lurch at the pit of his stomach.

"Fine, you got me. I had just arrived to this planet with my time machine," he explained, speaking fast to get it out of the way. "My friend and I, we had this picnic planned-"

The words got stuck in his throat. It was hard for him to believe that not so long ago he was with Clara and the worst concern in their minds was whether her sandwiches were going to be edible or not.

The man seemed to read his mind, because he was looking sadly at him and he said: "It's OK," even though both of them knew it wasn't OK at all.

"Please, tell me all you know," the Doctor urged, trying to focus on something else other than his friend.

The man gave him a sympathetic smile. "It's the Marquis's castle. He's been ruling this planet ever since he kidnapped the King's daughter. That gave him the control of all the technology so basically he can do what he wants."

"He seems charming," the doctor mattered. "How does he manage to control all the technology? What does this mean?"

"For once, he made sure no one else other than him could use it. It made us go back to medieval times," he frowned, probably lost in the memory of better days. "Then, he used it to build powerful weapons to control the people and huge defenses around him and his castle. He can have all the slaves he wants."

The man sighed and they both remained silent. The doctor had millions of thoughts racing through his mind.

He was about to ask one of the many questions which were lining at the tip of his tongue, but all of the sudden the lights went out.

There was a loud banging at the door.

"Go to sleep. You know what happens if I catch any of you still awake and speaking to each other."

The harsh, yet slightly mocking voice, echoed against the cold walls.

A mortal silence fell, interrupted only by the sound of steps leaving.

The Doctor leaned towards the man beside him, who was lying down, as if the conversation were over. He wouldn't allow that.

"He's gone. Keep talking," he urged, impatiently.

The man turned to glare at him. "Didn't you hear what he said?" he whispered "He's not kidding, you know? The last time he caught someone disobeying his orders it didn't end well for anybody. He has broken ribs for much less. So here's a word of advice, and you'll better follow it if you want to survive in this place - shut up."

The way he turned his back on him, after uttering those words, made it clear to the Doctor that the discussion was ultimately over.

Speechless, he rolled over on his back and, with his eyes still wide open, he didn't even try to sleep.