Worriesgone asked it in her most pitiful voice. Her eyes were open wide and full of sincerity, but not tearful. There was determination in them—determination to convince everybody that things can only be done her way, because it was the ONLY true way. Everything else was simply absurd.
But Workharder wasn't easily swayed, either.
"That would be a festival we can actually afford! Especially since you wrote that we must feed not only bees, but also human guests! Humans have even less food diversity available than we do. Say what you want, I just can't pull things out of thin air!"
Upon hearing this, Worriesgone immediately turned to me.
"Can you, Father?"
I opened my mouth, then closed it… then found words to say.
