The garden boasted plants from every corner of the Empire. In the center was a fountain topped with a statue of the goddess Proserpina. Every day, I left the best flowers as an offering.
One day the goddess thanked me. I bowed low to the icon.
“Everything I have built is in your name, my lady.”
The statue glared at me with a, well, stony expression.
“I am not my husband, nor my father. These are the fruits of conquest, not cultivation.”
“What would you have me do?”
“Rise, child. From this garden, you will plant the seeds of peace.”

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