The conversation had died which gave way to more vigorous and trained labour. The arrival of a new brute did not go unnoticed, however slightly ignored as Maxence pressed on through the last of the soil and the last of the rows.
"Take this" He had ordered of the ocean-tinted newcomer, passing him a bag of what appeared to be various seeds. Maxence took a mouthful of seeds himself, not trusting the handling powers the land had granted him with such a prcise task, and began to spit one seed into the hoed soil every inch or so apart. They were at the tail end of the day's work, or so he had hoped.

But many hands made light work and in no time their day was done. Maxence retired with sore limbs and aching muscles to his chambers, longing for a bath, and so would soon proceed with a night flight to the oasis...

---

---

Thanks everyone, that concludes this thread!