Since they still had land to clear during the day, the assembly was scheduled for early morning.
The sun had yet to fully rise, and the gray-blue daylight stretched their shadows long.
An invisible line divided the square.
On the eastern side stood Newborn Town's "old residents." Their clothes were patched but clean, and they looked full of energy. They gathered in twos and threes, talking quietly, their eyes drifting toward the platform with curiosity and anticipation.
On the western side stood more than eleven hundred newly arrived serfs. They huddled tightly together like rain-soaked livestock, the sour, rotten smell of their bodies hanging in the air.
Every head was bowed, every gaze hollow. Though they outnumbered the other group ten to one, there was no life in them at all.
Veylin stepped onto the platform, and the entire square fell silent.
He wore a well-tailored black coat, his gaze resting on the numb crowd to the west.
"I know what you're thinking. You're worried I'll use whips and send overseers to drive you to work."
A faint stir passed through the serfs, and some lowered their heads even farther.
"I won't."
Veylin paused.
"Because your productivity isn't worth assigning overseers to you."
There was no emotion in those words. They were simply a statement of fact.
Yet they were more insulting than any whipping.
The serfs grew restless. Some raised their heads, humiliation and anger flashing in their eyes, only to be swiftly smothered by fear.
They did not dare argue.
Veylin ignored their reactions and turned to Old Walker beside him.
"There are two announcements today. The first."
Old Walker stepped forward and unfurled a sheet of parchment.
"By order of Lord Weilin Klein, the Newborn Town Citizenship Redemption Act is hereby enacted."
His voice was rough and