Fifty years ago our fair king put the hated conqueror of our lands, and all his sons, to death. Twenty years ago this came back to haunt him.
Our king had twelve fine daughters. One day they began complaining about aches in their backs, their feet. This lasted for months. Nobody could understand it.
One night, a soldier decided to stay up and watch them. He followed them down a long passage underground, until he saw them dancing with the rotted remains of the conqueror’s sons.
We burned their remains that night. We don’t let our children go underground anymore.