It was not good. It was bad, almost tragic.
King Harold, called Venerable for some time now, trotted across the throne room, murmuring curses under his breath. Although he tried to walk in a dignified manner, as he was already old, he always ended up tripping over things.
Something occurred to him. He stopped and stared at the messenger.
“Did you check in the caves? Maybe the tide surprised them?” he asked hopefully.
“Yes, Your Majesty, we checked. In the caves, on the mountain, in the ravines, we scour the forests, we watch the sea,” the soldier replied.