Before Tide could draw his next breath to continue, a nervous tension in the hall finally snapped.
"Your Grace," a high-ranking paragon cut in, his voice tight and trembling slightly as he wanted to know what was stolen. "What was it that you lost? What has been stolen from you?"
Tide slowly turned his gaze, locking onto the brave or foolish paragon. He offered a heavy, sorrowful sigh.
"A tome," Tide said, the word falling like a lead weight. "I lost a tome that held the master blueprint needed to build these towers. A sacred volume that detailed the exact runic arts woven into the spires and cataloged every single material required to craft them."
He paused, letting his sharp, piercing eyes sweep slowly across the terrified faces of the paragons and high lords gathered before him.
