The knights roughly drag the man through the throne room. His knees buckling as he stumbles.

Your mother stares down at him in with straight face. “Name his crime.” Her booming voices comes out.

“Robbery, your highness. Three bread and two apples.” The knife answers sternly.

She glances at you, in your throne made for the children of the king and queen. “What do you think he deserves, Darling?”