Chapter 2

The man didn't even make a sound. His eyes rolled back, and he collapsed, a massive purplish-red lump instantly swelling on his forehead.

The remaining three men were stunned for a moment, confused.

Their informant had said that Gretta was just a loudmouth from the streets. Yet, she seemed to be stronger than a bear.

"All together!" One of the men shouted as the three men closed in, forming a triangle around Gretta.

Gretta snorted and kicked over the table next to her.

"Fight if you want, but don't mess up my tables and chairs! They're made of damn expensive wood!" she cursed as she swung her cleaver, smashing at anyone who got close.

There was no fancy technique. All her moves were learned from the kitchen, from chopping and slicing.

Just like chopping bone and mincing meat, every move aimed straight for their joints.

In no time, four guys were groaning on the floor with their faces swollen.

Gretta planted her foot on the leader's chest, the tip of her cleaver right up against his nose as she grinned slyly.

"Alright, speak. Who sent you? And don't start with any of that street code nonsense. In my place, the only rule is that I'll let you off easy if you come clean. Else, I'll chop you up for stew," she demanded.

The man gritted his teeth, his face set with grim determination, like he was ready to stare death in the eye.

"Go ahead, do your worst. You won't get a damn thing out of me," he spat.

Before he could finish, Gretta whipped out a tiny bottle from her clothes, popped the cork, and the air was instantly filled with the eye-watering sting of spice.

"This here is my homemade concoction. Just one drop on your wound, oh, it's even nastier than torture. Would you like to try?" Gretta taunted.

The man's face went ghostly pale in an instant. He was now sure that Gretta was a demon.

"It...it was someone from the palace..." the man stammered.

Gretta's eyes went cold as ice, her grip on the cleaver tightening.

The palace? Who else could it be but that heartless bastard? Back when that man was down and out, he mooched off her for three years, swearing up and down that once he made it big, he'd make her his queen.

Now, just as he was about to take the throne, he was worried this dirty secret would embarrass him, so he wanted to silence her for good.

"Well, well, Percy Windsor. Well played, crown prince," Gretta muttered the man's name through clenched teeth.

Her chest was heaving with rage, and the three gold bracelets on her arm clanged louder with every angry breath.

"Felix!" Gretta barked.

"Yes, Boss!" Felix called back.

"Tie up these losers and throw them in the animal pen out back. And dig out that ledger I keep stashed away," Gretta ordered.

Felix jumped. "Boss, what are you gonna do?"

Gretta slammed her cleaver into the table. The blade sank deep into the wood.

"I'm storming the palace to claim back my money!" she snapped.

Before Gretta could even step out, a piercing voice blared from the doorway.

"His Royal Highness, The Crown Prince, Prince Percy!" The arrival announcement was sharp, and it sent shivers down everyone's spine.

Right after, a squad of guards in fancy robes and embroidered swords barged in, clearing people out without a word.

"Move, move! The Crown Prince has booked the whole place today!" one of them shouted.

The customers scrambled out, scared witless, leaving without paying a dime.

Gretta stared at all the tables with unpaid bills, her heart twisting in pain.

All of her hard-earned cash, gone, just like that. She swore that she was going to put this on Percy's tab no matter what.

Soon enough, a man in a fancy embroidered robe strode in.

He had sharp brows and striking eyes. He was handsome enough, but there was a sly, insincere glint in his eyes that gave him away.

This was Percy Windsor, the crown prince.

He was also the same penniless scholar who once went by the name Joe Taylor and chopped wood at Gretta's tavern just to earn a meal.

As soon as Percy stepped inside, he saw the chaos everywhere and the bound assassins. His eyelid twitched, but he quickly put on that same nonchalant look.

"Gretta, it's been ages. You're still as fierce as ever," he said, a hint of mockery in his tone.

He crossed his arms as he nonchalantly surveyed the area, putting on airs like some gentleman scholar.

Gretta leaned against the counter, arms crossed, shooting him a cold glare.

She snarked, "Well, well, isn't this Joe? Ah, I've got to address you as Your Highness now, right? What's the matter? Got tired of all that fancy palace grub and decided you missed my pork stew?"

Percy's face froze for a second, then he waved his hand, telling his men to step outside.

"Gretta, why so prickly? I came here today just to see you," Percy made his way to a table that was still relatively clean, sat down, and helped himself to some water.

"In a few days, I'll be crowned. I couldn't help but feel nostalgic when I thought back to the days I spent hanging around your place. So I brought some wine. I figured we could chat," Percy said.

As he spoke, Percy fished out a fancy bottle of wine and placed it on the table.