After planning the food issue, the pen tip fell once more, making a faint sound.
"Insufficient housing."
Louis said softly, the pen tip carved out four heavy characters on the parchment.
He leaned against the back of the chair, his temple somewhat tense. The Red Tide Territory originally had thirteen thousand people, planning to accommodate nearly thirty thousand, through Louis's painstakingly designed city planning
That was a precisely calculated number—roads, wells, housing, sewage, warm current pipelines, even the wind direction of every chimney smoke was within controllable range.
But now...
"Fifty-seven thousand," Bradley opened the latest population census book across from him, his voice was low, yet like a blunt knife slowly cutting through reality, "This is the number updated this morning, according to your instructions, the refugee camp at the north gate is still registering."
"Too many people." Louis rubbed his brow.
