Alastair sat in his chair, looking at the outpost’s books, slightly bored with the figures, when he heard the tramp of the hooves of more ponies, and his happy mood disappeared. More of the unwashed peasants, what! Damn their eyes! He made his way out, resigned to having to greet them.
Trowel and his wife, Peony, walked with the other migrants towards what they were pretty sure was Liongifts. Trowel noded to himself when he saw a fancy pony exit the only real building around, thinking that must be whoever is in charge of greeting newcomers. He smiled and waved at the unicorn. “Hello! This is Liongifts, right? I’m Trowel, by the way!”
“This is Liongifts,” says Alastair with some mild distaste for having to deal with another peasant. “I am Lord Alastair, master of this outpost. I presume you’re here to find jobs, eh?”
Trowel nodded with a pleasant smile. “Yes sir! I’m looking forward to helping grow the food and the fort!”
“Well.” The mud pony’s smile was annoying Alastair, though as a proper noble, he refused to show it, dontchaknow, and he smiled back. “That’s good. We’ve got a need for more serfs farming. There’s the field, and the others know where the seeds are. The dormitory’s over there.”
Trowel nodded again, still looking happy. “Great! What’s the main crop, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Sunberries! Sunberries. We make sunshine. We need lots of them. Because sunshine is the only suitable drink for noble ponies like myself.”
Trowel looks impressed. “Sunberries? Wow! I had a sip of sunshine once, at my uncle’s wedding. If we’re making that heavenly drink, Liongifts will be a big city in no time!”
“Yes, yes, yes, get on with it, peasant!” And then Alastair the Expedition Leader had an idea, and Alastair the Manager agreed, but Alastair the Broker was heartbroken. “On second thought, YOU can be in charge of the farming, so I don’t have to be bothered with it any more. Get on with it!”
Trowel looks a bit surprised at getting yelled at and being called a peasant. Peony had to help him pick up his jaw as Alistair apparently benobled him! “Uh... me? Um, alright?”
“Yes, you. Get on with it, I suppose you like talking to those peasant-types. Take five of them, of those mud ponies with you.”
Trowel blinks a few times before turning to the other migrants that came with him. “So... who was good at farming, again?”
(( Claimed an Earthpony, who has been volunteered as the farming noble, heh. Trowel's ponies will have fairly good accommodations, and he's looking to have 2 dedicated farmers, 1 cook/brewer, 1 herbalist and one plant processor. ))