Elvessa couldn't help but rub her eyes in disbelief. There, beside the latrine she had overseen, stood a large wooden board crudely carved with poetic lines. With each word she read, her face grew redder with shame and embarrassment.
Here stands a monument of toil,
Crafted by hands draped in royal.
Bless this shrine of flush and seat,
A throne for all, where all may meet.
Golden rivers flow with grace—
Even queens must know their place.
And at the bottom, written in bold letters, was: "From Elvessa's Nobility."
"This… This… I never wrote that!" she shrieked in a high-pitched voice.
Eros chuckled. "Never expected, cousin to be this talented," he said, clapping his hands with a smirk before walking away.
Even after the king had left, the people lingered, reading the lines over and over, whispering among themselves about Lady Elvessa's wild taste in words.
