Cargo ships docked at Port Nyanzaru one after another.
Squads of fully armed soldiers stood guard nearby, while the watching crowds kept their distance.
Five men dressed as clerks tallied figures with pens and paper. Numerous attendants handled odd jobs beside them, along with physicians responsible for checking for disease. Farther away stood a temporary public bathhouse, with men on the left and women on the right. Fires had already been lit to boil water. Beyond it, a witch in robes sat in a chair, surveying everything.
"That should do."
A man dressed as a City Hall official checked the time and told the attendant before him, "Let the people off the ships. Bring them down in batches. Keep things orderly."
The attendant left to carry out his orders.
Soon, people in ragged clothes, their faces sallow and gaunt, were brought off the first cargo ship. They were all refugees, but they shared one characteristic: very few traveled alone. Most had their families with them, and some were large households of five. These were refugees being resettled in Port Nyanzaru. To avoid trouble and make them easier to manage, Port Nyanzaru gave priority to refugees with families. They were easier to manage than other refugees and more likely to put down roots on Port Nyanzaru's land.
The first batch numbered over three hundred.
The refugees lined up to register at an open-sided shelter on the docks. The five clerks rapidly recorded their names and families, then handed them over to other staff.
Their long displacement had left the refugees timid and hesitant, but they also gazed at everything in Port Nyanzaru with immense curiosity, as though trying to determine whether this city was as wealthy as the rumors claimed.
"Come over here."
"Men on this side, women on that side.