The people of Patriargë, along with the other foreigners, were looking at the projected image that was presented to the entire capital. Even the people from the slums came to see from a distance as they watch a certain thief being beaten to a pulp.
He stared at the projected screen.
It was emanating from the magic of someone familiar—someone HE knew very well. People passed by and some children gave him sideways glances. He then pulled his hood lower, as to not attract any attention as he watches the parade being presented.
"The thief's been captured, huh…" He murmurs as he bites into an apple that he had stolen from a vendor who was not looking. "Such a small girl."
The king then kicks the girl down.
He stared at the king and to the girl being projected; his dark eyes were filled with sheer indifference—after all, this sight was what he could consider normal for him. He was under their wing for several years, after all.
