Port Nyanzaru, Chishui Town.
This land bordered the sea, and whenever the fishing season arrived, massive shoals of red fish migrated back, turning the nearby river surface completely crimson—which was how the town got its name.
It was already August, and because of the varying times the towns were established, wheat harvests came at different times, with Chishui Town being among the last to reap. By now, most of the grain had been dried and gathered, and a man dressed as an official was leading attendants from house to house to take statistics. Port Nyanzaru had its own rules: all grain trade was forbidden to be conducted privately; surplus grain was uniformly purchased and then the City Hall stabilized prices. The price of grain was set according to the market rate, and the initial collection went very smoothly, but a minor commotion occurred when they reached the second row of houses.
"Not selling."
"My family has many members, and our grain consumption is rather large."
The speaker was a man dressed like a wealthy merchant, speaking with an accent from the Northern Realms. At that moment, his small eyes narrowed as he looked around, apparently haggling with the official before him.
Pete frowned as he stared at the man before him. His grain acquisition on this trip had been smooth so far, and he had not expected to encounter trouble here. He glanced at the servants behind the man and spoke, "How many family members do you have? What is your grain consumption? What is this year's harvest?"
"Come here."
"Bring me the dossier of his registered household."
Soon enough.
An attendant fetched a dossier from the town mayor. Pete merely glanced at it before a smile broke out on his face, and he said, "Your household only has a