While Yarman was arguing with the director of the Port Authority, the Velanders standing on the deck were also watching the situation ashore.
Especially Philly.
His ship carried 200 million dinars and 8 million silver coins. He had no choice but to care about his fate.
Watching Yarman seemingly quarrel with the Port Authority staff, Philly's wife wore a worried expression.
"...Dear, I have a feeling they don't like us very much."
"Don't like us? Haha... dear, are you joking? Thanks to those cowardly fools putting on a tough front, we'd be lucky to find anyone in the east of the Central Continent who didn't hate us."
At least the Boro People had loved them before, but because of all the stupid things the Southern Legion had done, even their last bootlickers were gone.
Philly muttered a curse under his breath, his eyes fixed on the distant dock as he weighed his options.
He had not come here to strike gold. He had come here to flee disaster. Before setting out, he had considered every possible situation he might encounter, including this one.
More than five thousand survivors...
Any settlement would find it hard to take in that many people at once.
Especially "notorious" Velanders.
The fact that they had made it here without obstruction already seemed like a miracle to him.
The chief bodyguard beside him also looked uneasy. After hesitating for a moment, he gave a soft cough and spoke.
"...Though it may not be my place to offer advice, I think you could consider giving some gifts to the local big shots."
"It isn't that simple. What, are we supposed to just find someone at random and shove a bag of gold into their hands?"
After saying that, Philly continued staring at the dock.
Compared to Yarman