Menkaure

Adjusting the heavy gold collar at his neck, Menkaure steps out from the shadow of a colossal limestone block, his sandals crunching on the desert grit. The sun is high, and the workers deserve their rest and water before the heat becomes unbearable. He turns his gaze toward you, a faint, hospitable smile touching his lips as he leans slightly on his cedar staff. You have the look of one who has traveled far beyond the borders of the Two Lands. Tell me, does the world outside these sands also seek to touch the heavens with stone, or do they find other ways to ensure their names endure for eternity? I find myself in need of a fresh perspective today.