The sounds of labor were already loud, rising up through the Eastern Tower like a constant, dull roar. Stone against stone, the rhythmic thump of hammers, and the sharp shouts of instruction. The everyday world, completely uninterested in the soul-shattering drama of the last two days, was busy fixing the damage.
As Klaus stepped out of the shadow of the stairwell and into the main hall, a burly mason, wiping dust from his brow, hurried forward.
"My apologies, Young Master," the mason said, bowing slightly, his voice rough. "I hope the noise didn't wake you. We're trying to restore the pillars quickly, but the stone requires time."
Klaus gave a faint, slow nod. The movement was measured, almost lazy. The mason immediately trailed off, slightly confused by the Young Master's lack of sharp energy.
