People stared at the screen, then at Damian, then at the king. Some clutched their heads, whispering, "What have we done…?" Others began to sob, realizing what they had thrown at their savior—the hatred, the stones, the calls for his death.
Fear crept in too.
If this was what they had done to the hero who saved them… what would happen to them now?
But more than anything, one emotion began to boil among the crowd.
Hatred.
Not for Damian.
For the king and the traitors who had framed him.
Rocks began to fly—but this time, toward Marco and his entourage.
"Traitor!"
"Liar!"
"Murderer!"
Soldiers rushed to shield the king, raising shields and forming a wall as stones and debris rained down. Orders were barked, and soon blades were drawn.
Marco's face twisted. "Insolent maggots! Attacking your own ruler!"
He raised his hand.
"Soldiers! Cut them down!"
The soldiers obeyed.
Steel flashed as they charged into their own people.
Chaos erupted.
Screams, blood, panic.
