“Stop, just stop it! Leave him alone!”
Shepherd barely had a chance to register the thunderous shout before the King was dragging him onto his feet, teeth bared venomously at Bim and Wilford, whose laughter still hadn’t fully subsided. Bruised legs trembling, Shepherd leaned tiredly into his friend’s thick fur cloak, relieved for the shield.
“Persecutors! Brutes!” the King snarled. “I’ve held my tongue for far too long and now you think our shepherd is some plaything, a stool for you to prop your feet on while you stand in some glorious spotlight! He is the hero of our city! He’s not some pauper!” Narrowed eyes flicking over them for only a second, he shook his head disgustedly. “And you’re no kings.”