"Each day is a gift."

I have yet to decide if this is an inspirational statement meant to invoke feelings of joy and optimism, or if it happens to be the single most conceited, puffed-up, egotistical, narcissistic, vain, autocratic, self-admiring, pat-on-one's-own back that I have ever been witness to. This happens to be a saying that is carved into the wall of my office at this time, and with the lack of many pressing matters this season, I have had much time to view it and contemplate its meaning. To understand why I might have a problem with it, I shall describe what the most impressive engravings in my office happen to be from the view one might have when entering my office.

Upon stepping through the threshold of my door from the hallway, the first thing that is visible is my desk, which is situated in front of the far wall and faces the entrance. To the viewer's right is the engraved image of two harps within a laurel wreath. This image, as I have come to find, has been agreed to be the Voices of Subsisting's emblem for our future flags and tapestries (without my consultation).

To the viewer's left, the wall is chiseled to show stacks and stacks of what one can perceive to be silver bars (or gold, but I can assume it is silver to represent that which will become Songring's wealth). There are small glints of light detailed in of what look to be sparkles and sparks, to give the idea that the metal in the ingots happens to be very lustrous.

Behind my seat is a tall, awe-inspiring, stone-detailed representation of the deity Celestia herself with her wingspan at full spread and head held high with a large, circular sun raised above her glowing horn. At the very top of the wall above this image are engraved the words, "Each day is a gift.” ( I have found this phrase is also printed on one side of the Bits minted by the Sun of Chance.) A note about this piece: Once I had seen it and recognized what it is, I have felt just a tad less comfortable when I sit in my seat with the thought of her looking over my shoulder at every little thing I am doing. Not that I am doing anything wrong of course, but it still gives me a few shivers to see this very physically accurate depiction of her when I turn my head.

I believe this may be Overcast's true talent, as the carvings in my office are quite impressive. I wonder why his cutie mark happened to be a rain cloud then. Perhaps they are not always right, if that is the case.

A few final notes on the engravings: The other walls on either side of my desk are lined with images of alder trees and various objects on the ground beneath them. It gives the impression that one might be wandering through an orchard or thicket of some sort if my office were longer with more space to walk around. Mountain peaks are etched on the wall containing the door. The floor mostly has images of waves on it, as though it were the sea. I had a few conflicts with that final one, but I decided that it was too late to complain (considering it might be too difficult and time-consuming to un-engrave stone) and have just accepted it as part of the artwork in the room.

I have tasked Overcast with engraving the rest of the hallways and rooms, as well, with whatever he sees fit. I have a feeling it will help morale around here, as well as give him something helpful to do. He has been rather close on my heels once more since Spring started.

A new wave of immigrants arrived this season. It was a big one. 18 in total. Looking at the list, I believe we received 4 mercenaries, a furnace operator (a unicorn this time, thank goodness, to help make the Galena smelting process safer and smoother), another two miners, a chemist (not a doctor, but I feel like Bunsen will be handy for remedies and medicines), a potter and a glazer, two new helpers for Springfield, a mason, a leatherworker, two woodsponies (a lumberjack like Maple, and the other calls herself a ranger), a blacksmith, and an engineer. I am sure there are others that I am forgetting, but that long list will hopefully convey the fact that we have received quite a few helpful individuals here in Songring this season. I have been looking forward to seeing just how their skills will assist us. The one thing that concerns me is the number of mercenaries that were hired on this time around, and considering they showed up with Bullion's Caravan, I have questioned if they perhaps were hired by him, and he is simply not stating it out of kindness.

Bullion's caravan did arrive a bit late this year. (Pardon, early this year, but late for his usual visit. He did not show up at all last year. Damn my sense of horology for insisting I clarify all of this). I believe the following dialogue between the two of us might describe the overall quality of his visit.

"Mr. Prodder! It is so good to see you again! I might be a bit late, but I could not help but stop the wagons and admire the beauty of the Fatal Horns this time of year. Their snow-capped peaks just call to my nomadic soul, Mr. Prodder..."

"They are quite breathtaking. It is nice to see you again too, Bullion. We needed some good news in Songring; we have had some troubles that the settlers are still trying to cope with. I'm hoping the couriers' deliveries and your wares can help take their minds off of it for a while."

"Nothing serious, I hope?"

"It has been handled, so please do not worry."

"If you insist. Now, I have to ask you: where is your depot?"

"..."

"Mr. Prodder?"

"Fffffffffffff-"

"What.... what are you doing? Your face is rather red- Are... are you deflating, Mr. Prodder?"

I was not deflating, though the eruption of profanity following that moment was heard throughout Songring and beyond. I would not be surprised to hear that my vulgarity bellowed through the skies of The Sun of Chance like a rolling thunder. Ballads will be sung about the great mystery of the Godswear: The day that the heavens cried out with a mighty, echoing scream of rage embodied in a single cursed word that washed over the land like a sonic tide.

"I get the feeling that I might have upset you," Is all that Sir Bullion could muster to say as I panted for breath afterwards. Still painfully proper, he adjusted his hat and cleared his throat, waiting for me to compose myself and stand up straight again before asking once more, "About that depot?"

"I'll get right on it. Please, feel free to rest in the dining hall while I make the arrangements."

"Very good."

I hate placating someone making such a stupid request, but what can I do? He's not going to be satisfied without it, so I might as well just get the damn thing built and leave it up for his future visits.

I did not bother to take a look at his wares this year. I was rather content with how our supplies looked, so everything he had for us would merely be for comfort. How would it be fair to all of the ponies here for me to simply turn him down? Not to mention how rude it would be not to even give him a chance to sell us something. I will admit that I was much too lazy to take the orders of each individual pony in Songring and negotiate a deal with Bullion, then bother with passing out the supplies as requested. Instead, I called everyone to the dining hall where I gave them their New Year's Gift (even though the turning of the year had passed a bit earlier in the week). I handed each one of the ponies a silver ingot, and told them to go use it to haggle with Bullion for whatever they wanted.

I have not been hugged that many times since I graduated my mandatory schooling. It felt... nice. The smiles and overjoyed gasps I heard when I took the tarp off of the stack of ingots that I had Dawnstar help me move into the room still rings in my ears and warms my heart. Each of the older ponies was grateful for the bounty, but little Hyacinth seemed so confused by it and did not understand why everyone was so happy. I had to go to her personally and hand her the last of the ingots myself. With concerned eyes, she asked me what she should do with it.

"That's the same as bits, but it's worth a lot of them," I told her. "You can take it to the unicorn in the feathered hat and he'll let you trade it for any item in his caravan that you want."

The shy little creature looked out the windows of the dining hall towards the “depot” where the rest of the ponies had gone with their ingots to begin perusing the goods. With a small noise of discomfort, she looked back up to me and tried to hand the ingot back politely. "I'm fine, Mr. Overseer. I don't need anything right now."

I refused to take the ingot, however, gently pressing it back. "Hyacinth, it's a gift from me, please accept it. Is there some reason you don't want to go pick something nice out?"

Once again she bit her lip and looked towards the depot and all of the commotion going on, starting to shake her head. As the silence dragged on, she sighed and looked up at me. "Momma and dad say that I shouldn't talk to ponies I don't know."

"Well, I'd hate to make you go against their word. I know Sir Bullion: Maybe since you know me, and I know him, then it would be okay?"

The filly was satisfied with this answer, but asked me hopefully if I would come with her. "I'm not supposed to talk to ponies I don't know without an adult there." I agreed to come with her, and walked alongside her to the depot. When we got there, I recognized the way she was acting as very similar to the way she had behaved when she first got to the storeroom, looking around with some disinterest and a bit of distress as nothing seemed to peak her interest. Of course this only lasted a while before Bullion approached me from behind while I stood next to her and whipped me around with his hooves.

"Mr. Prodder, I must speak with you at once."

"Is something wrong, Bullion?" I asked him curiously, wondering why he was holding me with such urgency in his features.

"I promise, Mr. Prodder, I promise that I am not swindling these ponies!" he insisted, pleading with me quietly to agree with him and seeming distressed.

"What? What are you going on about now?" I asked, glancing back to Hyacinth who shrunk into a bin of baubles in fear of the serious unicorn grasping me. "Why would I think you were swindling them?"

"It's... it's just... they don't know the value of these bars! All of this silver, Mr. Prodder, and all they are wanting are kegs of wine and whiskey, or some seeds and herbs, or... or cloths and dyes- I promise I am not ripping them off, they just get what they want and hand me a silver bar! I don't even have time to ask them if they want anything else!"

"Aren't you happy, Bullion? This will be great for your business, won't it? Sounds like you are making a considerable profit."

"Yes... yes, but... I- I could not imagine having you put into such a tight spot though. I do seek a profit, but I certainly don't want one that might ruin you!" With that he released me and looked back to his dwindling supplies, and then over at the caravan guards who were sighing and whispering in awe over the building stack of silver ingots. "I just worry what might happen to Songring if I take this much from you."

"Who else do we trade with, Bullion?" I asked him with folded arms. "Who else could make use of these ingots? Very simply, those are kind of useless to us, not to mention there will be more to come. I gave them to each of the settlers' to use as they see fit, and if that's all they wanted for them, then that should be fine. Not to mention, Bullion, think of it as a thank you... for making that tough trip each year to help us here at Songring."

Bullion's hat came off of his head as he held it to his chest with his horn, looking down before me. "Well... you're welcome, Mr. Prodder. I just do my job... as any stallion should." He finally saw Hyacinth peeking up at him from the bin, to which he began to show a toothy smile. "Hello, little filly! What are you doing here?"

As Hyacinth mumbled to herself and shrunk into the bin nervously, I cleared my throat to speak up for her. "Please meet Hyacinth, Mr. Bullion. I brought her here to see if there was anything she would like to trade her ingot for."

"How adorable! Is she yours, Mr. Prodder?" We merely stared at each other silently for a moment after that question, his nose turning dark red under the silver pelt as he must have realized something rather obvious. "Ahem, well, Hyacinth, I would be happy to show you around. Tell me, what does the young miss enjoy? Paints, jewelry, crafts, toys? I can certainly find something in here that will strike your fancy."

Hyacinth sheepishly informed us that her mother and father had to leave her toys behind when they moved to Songring, stating that her belongings were too heavy to carry with them in their saddlebags. Chortling giddily, Bullion shuffled his way through the depot and motioned for us to follow. Over bins and past display cases, he just kept flourishing with his words, claiming just how lucky she was to have met him then.

"I happen to keep a supply of toys just for the little ones around here somewhere! The finest toymakers in Equestria have peddled some of their wares to me, so certainly their art will be of some interest to you. Boats, dolls, puzzles, games- oh, have I seen and procured all of them at some point. Let me see what I have around here."

As soon as Bullion opened a chest, the scent of painted wood and fresh fabric rushed out at the two of us. Inside was what looked to be a privileged child's overstuffed toy box with brightly painted toys of all shapes, many different boxes containing renditions of age-old games, and felt effigies of creatures of all kinds jumbled together. The little filly's eyes lit up immediately at the sight, looking up to Sir Bullion as he nodded to let her know it would be alright to dip her hooves into the well of childhood dreams and find what she pleased. Tin cavalry, puppets, building blocks of all types, instruments, and many other playthings fell out over the sides as she dug in, before letting loose a squeal that made us both jump in surprise. In her front legs she cradled a bright white and mottled tan stuffed toy in the shape of a hybrid of an eagle and a lion. It was wearing a bright red hat that I could swear I had seen before, and saw once again as I looked up to see Sir Bullion grinning beneath his own purple version.

"Can I have this one?" she asked, hugging the soft object to her chest and looking around for the silver ingot.

"That's just one of a set, little filly! Take another look inside: There should also be a dragon, a diamond dog, and a pony wearing similar hats. They are all in the same series of toys. Do you know the story of the Crimson Cavaliers?"

Hyacinth shook her head at him, causing Bullion to stutter and bumble as he was astounded that she had not. "I've never heard of them." Considering I had not either, I had no idea why he was so baffled by this, but he immediately dug deeper in the chest with his horn and withdrew the other three toys and a storybook along with them, pressing them all to Hyacinth.

"Children these days! Honestly! They are only the bravest heroes of old Equestrian lore. They are the ones that dismantled the war machine of the Cursed Plague, they destroyed the evil lich Equis Mortis, and they discovered the Endless Depths down below! Books upon books are written about these brave souls, and now somepony has no idea who they are."

"Can I still have this one?" Hyacinth asked, still cuddling the odd, hybrid, plush toy and holding out the silver ingot.

"Those are very special to me, you know... They're mine. Had them since I was just a colt. I think it is time they have a new caretaker. So you can have it on one condition, young lady: You must take care of the others as well, and make sure you read that story too so you know who they are. Can you do that?"

"I can, Mr. Bullion. I'll take really good care of them."

"Atta girl. They are yours now. Remember to keep them safe; I'd be heartbroken to hear that anything happened to them!"

"I will!" Hyacinth responded excitedly, accepting the hefty responsibility of defending Sir Bullion's childhood artifacts and handing him the ingot. With her new possessions, she began to scuttle back to her room in the apartment halls, stopping only long enough to brush against my leg and tell me thank you. While I was watching her carry her playthings happily to her quarters, I felt something pressed against me, and realized the heavy chest of toys was being forced to my chest.

"Take it," Bullion said warmly, letting the aura of his horn die down as his hat rested back upon his head. I opened my mouth to protest, but he shook his head immediately and quietly told me once again, "Just take it. Give it to the youngling for her birthday or something... Please; I won't feel right taking her ingot for just my old hoof-me-downs."

That is exactly what I did. Hyacinth's birthday was not but a month after that visit from Bullion. I gave the chest of toys to Riverscar and told her to set it by Hyacinth's bedside for when she woke up. I am glad that he left it too, since it seemed that Riverscar had remained too busy to be able to make her daughter anything for her birthday, and her father... well, he remained busy as well, but I use that term with a bit of venom.

Why would I dislike how Inutile has kept himself busy? Well, it's because of who he has kept himself busy with. As there has been a lack of crisis this season, I have been able to keep a close track of exactly what or who he has been occupying his time with. Let me see here... Blueprint, Tye Dye (one of the newest arrivals), Honeysides twice, Daggersides four times (yep...), and once with Heartstrike (seems his door swings both ways). This has left me in the difficult situation of being unable to say anything. How can I? If I protest his little conquests, I am interjecting my authority on his personal business, and then I will be the big bad overseer telling him who he can and can't associate with.

It has been rather entertaining to watch his defeat with three of the ponies here who seem immune to his charms, however. I have been pondering exactly what makes each mare turn him down every time. Maple is the most verbal of the refusers, and from what I gather, it is always due to the fact that she hates his accent. When he starts to speak with his foreign inflection, her mouth turns down and her ears pin back against her head irritably. She also informed him once that she never found herself imagining taking balloons filled with hot air to the bedroom. Silence has actually confided in me as to why she dislikes him: He has no safe-for-work surface thoughts. As it turns out, the few times she has tried to communicate with him, she has been subject to seeing herself in quite a few uncharacteristic positions, and finds the concept of him constantly wasting his brainpower on such as disgusting. Teardrop is the third, and I have not been able to deduce what makes her so quick to reject him. She is always polite about it, telling him "No thank you," and, "That's very sweet, but I am simply not interested." I have considered asking her personally for her reasons, but how the hell can I start that conversation?

"So I heard you won't let Inutile use his talent on you. What's up with that?"

Yeah, no way that would end well. I'll just keep considering it silently to myself.

Not much else to report this season, except that the apartment halls had to be expanded to accommodate the new ponies. Willow bitched and moaned about having to actually work this season, but aside from that, it was not very interesting. 23 new rooms have been added in a new wing connected to a hollowed out section that I hope will work as an infirmary in the future (if we can get some medical personnel here in Songring). The new wing also has another entrance installed in the side of the mountain, to create a better circulation of air throughout the corridors and let in more light. I consider installing sunroofs sometimes for these ponies, but that project may wait for a while as I am currently having Machina (our new engineer) look into my bathhouse idea.

I can't wait to get a fresh shower for a change...