A cry of devastation and disbelief echoes through the ruins of a once-magnificent city. The fall of Damascus brings profound shock to its residents and its king, who mourn the sudden collapse of a place previously defined by its glory and joy [מצודת ציון]. Its greatness existed on two distinct levels. It was a sprawling, open metropolis celebrated for its massive population, while its inner core was a walled fortress, providing a deep sense of security and happiness through its defenses [מלבי״ם].
As disaster strikes, a profound question arises among the fleeing citizens [רד״ק] or the grieving king [רש״י]. Looking at the devastation, they wonder how the invading army could bring themselves to destroy the area. Even though the conquerors laid waste to many other places, it is incomprehensible to the survivors that the enemy would not show mercy and spare a city of such extraordinary strength and beauty [רד״ק, מצודת דוד, ביאור שטיינזלץ, רש״י].
Alternatively, this cry of disbelief is directed not at the ruthlessness of the enemy, but at the failure of the city itself. The shock lies in how a place of such might was not adequately reinforced and built with walls strong enough to prevent the enemy from taking over [רש״י, רד״ק]. This realization brings a deep sense of shame and distress. A prominent city, renowned for the bravery of citizens who were never weak but rather marched joyfully into battle, certainly should have been properly fortified to withstand the siege [מלבי״ם].