Thorin scoffed lowly. “You can listen to this naysayer, but I promise you this; If we succeed, all will share in the wealth of the mountain. You will have enough gold to rebuild Esgaroth ten times over!” This earned cheers from the crowd, and The Master of Laketown smirked to himself. Dwarves were not the only ones fond of gold. 

As Thorin and Bard argued, The Master spoke up. "Now, now, we must not, any of us, be too quick to lay blame. Let us not forget that it was Girion, Lord of Dale, your ancestor, who failed to kill the beast!”
Alfrid was quick to agree. “It’s true, sire. We all know the story: arrow after arrow he shot, each one missing its mark.” The people turned on Bard, accusing him for Giron's failure to kill the beast.

Kili pulled away from the guard gripping his shoulder. From where the youngest Durin stood, he could barely see his uncle. In order to get a better look at what was going on, Kili attempted to stand on tiptoe, but the movement hurt, and he inwardly cursed his misfortune. 
When Saeril arrived, Kili's heart sank. Like a guilty child, he attempted to hide himself from view, but it was too late. She'd spotted him. Face burning with shame, Kili dropped his gaze. He hadn't wanted to break his promise, but his alliance was split.