"Dadda! Dadda!" The prince was yelling at the top of his lungs as he scurried through the stairs up in the eastern tower, where his father and mother were currently settled to overlook the battle that was ensuing in the courtyard.
His father turned to him with a curious gaze. "What is it, Dundeas? I saw the archers almost decimate the dwarves; you did a great job."
The prince was panting hard when he reached them. "Thanks, but I have bad news. Galatea and Nevuda were able to escape!" He told his father with an exasperated expression.
However, the king's and queen's expressions were passive. "And?" The king answered nonchalantly, his eyes fixed on the dwarves below.
