The Crown Prince's Debt

Synopsis

"Lovely royal tunic you've got there, your highness. It's worth about two or three shillings. Take it off," the lady said. Curious onlookers surrounded the palace doors. The crown prince, heir to the throne, stood there clutching his pants. His face was as red as a beet as he pointed at the woman in front of him, who was nonchalantly munching on some oranges. "You…you lunatic! How dare you command the heir to the throne to strip!" "Heir?" The lady spat out the orange seeds. She gestured towards the crown prince's neck with her greasy, oil-stained cleaver as a manic laugh tore itself from her throat. "Back when you were so hungry you fought the stray dogs for scraps, you didn't mind the head cheese I made. Now that you're well-fed, you're suddenly being ungrateful?" She spat. "I don't care if you're the crown prince or the devil himself. You must pay back the money you owe me, even if it means leaving your clothes behind." The lady's words were final. The royal guards reached for their swords. Behind the lady, her crew stepped forward. The blind cook, the crippled bookkeeper, and the mute food runner. Each of their eyes was sharper than any blade. The head eunuch shrieked, "Treason! This is treason!" The lady stomped on the sedan chair, splitting the oak wood cleanly in half. "Treason? I'm just collecting what's mine. I will count to three. Pay up, or the city gets to eat prince stew tonight."