In just a few hours, the United Kingdom felt like a massive bomb had been dropped.
"Shame!"
"Save our soldiers!"
"Government incompetence!"
"Stop this pointless war!"
Angry crowds surged towards central London from all directions, targeting the national symbol—Buckingham Palace.
The dark mass of people filled the squares and streets leading to the palace, with roars nearly overturning the sky. Eggs, tomatoes, and even Molotov cocktails slammed against the tightly shut palace gates and the police line on alert.
Order teetered on the brink in the face of boiling public resentment.
Confronted with this uncontrollable scene, the highest commander in charge of security on site ducked in panic, and promptly issued a "Thatcher-style order!"
"Queen's Guard cavalry! Prepare! Disperse the crowd!"
Under the sun, the well-trained war horses snorted, their hooves uneasily scraping the ground, and the gleaming breastplates and red plumes on the saddles reflected blinding light.
