Violetta and Barock guided Cliff deeper into the heart of the palace, where wooden scaffolding intertwined with freshly erected stone walls. Light filtered through the unglazed windows, casting shifting patterns on the marble-dusted floor. Workers bustled everywhere, hauling carved blocks or adjusting beams etched with stabilizing runes. The air vibrated with the rhythm of chisels and hammers—a chaotic symphony, but one full of hope.
"Here is the throne room," Barock announced, pointing to a vast circular chamber whose vaulted ceiling would one day soar twenty meters high. For now, only the load-bearing columns, as wide as ancient oaks, hinted at the room's future majesty. Scaffolding surrounded the space like metallic vines. "The foundations are reinforced with enchanted ore, just as you requested. Not even an earthquake will shake it."
Cliff nodded, visualizing the future. "And all that space behind the throne—what's it for?"
