Among the crowd, children clutched their mothers' skirts, watching wide-eyed as the private soldiers ripped crates and barrels away.
"Mother…" one little boy whispered, tugging gently at her sleeve.
"Isn't that the rich man before? Didn't he pay so the merchant could give it to us?"
The woman hushed him quickly, fear flickering in her eyes.
"Shh. Keep your voice down."
But the boy's gaze stayed fixed on the nobles, his small fists tightening. He couldn't understand why the food promised to them was being taken away.
The nobles, meanwhile, laughed loudly as they mounted their carriages, tossing fruit to their guards as if mocking the starving crowd. One bit into a loaf of bread, crumbs spilling down his silk robe.
"Hah! And they call Armand generous. This is how true lords take what they want."
