"Why did you steal the medicinal herbs from Sacred Hall?"
"I did not steal them," the man insisted hoarsely. "They have wronged me."
"Wronged you?" Lance stepped forward and cast a short blade onto the floor before him. "This dagger was found within your dwelling. The markings upon its edge match precisely the scratches upon Sacred Hall's window frame. And in your home, we discovered a snow lotus yet unsold. The evidence is complete—do you still dare deny it?"
At the sight of the incriminating proof, the man's defiance crumbled. He bowed low, striking his forehead against the ground.
"I confess! The herbs—I took them. But I was driven to it, my lord, I swear it! I had no other choice!"
"Speak plainly."
"My mother…" His voice trembled. "She suffers from consumption. The physician said only century-old rose hips tincture and raindrop aloe might prolong her life. But such medicines—how could I ever afford them?"
