Tycondrius relaxed on a cushioned sofa, calmly drinking tea as he examined the various effects in the room.
One, in particular, caught his eye... one just as worrisome as the weapons and armors that enchantments of which were not yet completely inert.
He furrowed his brows as he scrutinized a signed portrait of... Troia, the Holy Country's High Oracle.
"What in the seven-- ugh... what is *that*?"
Megara puffed her cheeks as she wrung her hands, "Did... I make a mistake? L-let me fix it before Dad sees."
"Ah," Tycon handed back her paperwork, "No, Megara. Everything looks lovely, though you could truncate the bottom-right spell circles on pages two and three."
Megara lifted the second page above her head-- as if that could help her better see the issue.
"They're... redundancy safeguards, though?"
Tycon - "I don't suppose you've seen my lovely girlfriend around the Dungeon? Tall? Blonde?"
Ravidius - "Ah... I assure you, Monsieur. She has been... dealt with."
Tycon - "On an unrelated note: which one of the weapons on that wall is capable of defeating an Adamantine-Rank?"