Ozymandias. A pure bit of poetry and speech craft. This time, a story. And a better one. Violetta, sitting on her stool, blinked and listened.

The talking villagers stopped. They went back to work, listening with half an ear. It wasn’t a long tale, and it had less old language in it. However…

Cara was nearly at the ending when someone walked off for a drink of water. She faltered. Stumbled.

And lost her audience a second time. They listened to the end of the story, and did not applaud. Nor thoughtfully remark on hubris or the impermanence of legacy.

The worst part was that the people of Landsmecht didn’t even boo. Or shout for Violetta to take over.

They just got back to work. Idelt began hammering on something as he lit his forge, the workers began working—they politely ignored her.

“Um. Miss Cara.”

Violetta was too embarrassed to look straight at Cara. The [Actress]’ shoulders slumped. She’d been side-tracked! But it was a classic poem! A great one! She’d messed up with Shakespeare—one woman Shakespeare wasn’t a ‘watch as you work’ type of thing.

But Ozymandias? Come on! At least listen before you get your noisy sip of water! Cara glowered at the sipper. She refused to give up, though. She turned to Violetta.

“Violetta, I’m sorry. Give me one more chance. I’m just going to—sing.”

She had to rally. Cara fumbled for her pocket and seized her second backup. She hadn’t wanted to do this since the battery was so low, but—

Her iPhone lit up. The screen was dim, but Afiele’s skies were dark anyways. The girl tapped on the glowing screen as Violetta blinked, not able to comprehend what she was seeing.

“What is that? Magic? An artifact?”

“Something close. Hold on—”

Cara flicked through the songs and tapped on one. She glanced at Violetta and a few of the children who were watching her. Think of her audience. Show them something new. She spotted a song and grinned.

Well, this was new! Cara tapped it and—the iPhone began to play.

The music was faint, projected only by the speakers of the iPhone. But as Cara had observed, Landsmecht was quiet. Idelt’s hammering in the distance was practically thunder. The quiet voices, the sounds of work—faded as the villagers looked up.

“What is that sound?”

It was like…no, Violetta couldn’t know what a piano sounded like. Perhaps a harpsichord. But even so, the music that began playing was unique in tempo and style. Cara took a breath. Redemption. She closed her eyes—and sang.

Let it Go from Frozen.

It was—slightly spiteful. If the villagers of Landsmecht didn’t appreciate a classic, why not something popular? A pop song? On the other hand—you had to admit, the song had swept a world by storm.