Oh my, are these the Adoulinian tomatoes everyone has been lauding of late? I am certain that my master appreciates your kindness, but I do not recall ordering any of them...

My apologies. I was not aware that they were meant for Castle Adoulin.

If it helps assuage your concerns in the least, this hillock has winded the best of us, and has sent me tumbling head-over-heels to the bottom more than once. Be not ashamed of not making it to the top in a single spurt, and take as much time to recuperate as you require.

For me? Why thank you.
Mmm...it is plain to see why these tomatoes have won such voracious acclaim in so short a time. Those grown on the surrounding islands resemble the wrinkled and frail fingers of mead-flushed octogenarian spinsters, and they taste of drought and death. This one, however, is as healthy as any I have ever seen, and its flavor is simply to die for. They are truly a miracle in the making.

They were plucked fresh from the Civic Arboretum, you say? Well then, please do me the favor of congratulating Chalvava on a job well done the next time you see her. I cannot recall the last time I indulged in such a tantalizing piece of produce.

Speaking of the arboretum...it may not be around long enough to produce a second batch of these decadent tomatoes.

I only say so because hearing grievances from facility opponents on both sides of the colonization movement has become as much a part of my master's daily routine as getting up in the morning. A particularly vocal critic recently assailed us with such a vitriolic rhetorical bombardment that I thought my ears would bleed.

I am not sure how Sir Malecroix stemmed the tide of anger, but he assured me that the storm had passed and that I needn't worry about such enraged visitants any longer.

Read on for Minister of Finance Melvien de Malecroix's introspections regarding the call to close the Civic Arboretum.