1st Year, 15th of Limestone:
After a few days of putting it off, I finally ran out of excuses and had to invite Rakust Tinwet into my office. After I took my seat, she spent about a minute looking around the room, pretending to be impressed with the sand floors, wooden tables, and glass decorations. Finally, she began:

Tinwet: "I must say Stukos, you and your peasant friends have dug out a
worthy settlement for the likes of you."
Me: "Need I remind you that you're in
my office? You're at
my mercy."
Tinwet: "Ah yes, I best watch my tongue around the—what was it that the peasants have been calling you, again?"
Me: "Expedition-leader-sheriff-broker."
Tinwet: "Yea, that's definitely not a position with which I have plans to tangle."
The blasted liaison showed no respect for me whatsover, and it took all of my restraint to keep myself from attacking her. Still, I wonder if the extension to my sentence that I would receive would be outweighed be outweighed by the satisfaction.
She told me that no real changes had happened back at home; "the world is the same as ever," she said. She asked me what I needed for the next year's caravan, and I answered that we could use some more raw materials, tools, seeds, foodstuffs, and drinks. I also requested a few cats and dogs, for better defense and cleanliness of the outpost. All these things she scribbled down in her book, though by her facial expressions I could sense that she doubts we'll be able to afford any of it. After I was done, she provided me with
her list, and it was a total joke:

The nobles and bureaucrats know that we won't be making any spears or windows, and that we can't spare any fish or drinks; the list exists purely for mockery's sake.
In keeping with the theme of our meeting, Tinwet offered one final jest before departing.

I hope your ship capsizes, Tinwet!