Blue optical scanning lasers crisscrossed the cavernous screening bay as hundreds of shivering refugees moved through the partitioned intake lanes under the watchful care of the Citadel medical corps.
Steam rose in thick white clouds from giant kettles of savory vegetable broth, carrying the comforting scent of herbs and freshly baked bread across the concrete hall.
"Eat slowly and drink the warm broth first," Emilia told a mother cradling two small children wrapped in wool blankets.
"Our restorative teas will stabilize your mana levels and cure any lingering frostbite within minutes."
"Thank you... thank you so much," the woman wept, clutching the wooden bowl with trembling hands.
"The government broadcast told us on the radio that you would execute all of us at the gate!"
"The municipal director is a frightened coward who projects his own cruelty onto everyone else," Owen replied, handing loaves of bread to the surrounding families.
