The storm that swept through Dagar that night as most of the city slumbered, left in its wake a tangled forest of broken branches and fallen trees, along with remnants of shacks and huts cast asunder. As the clean up began in neighborhood after neighborhood, the body of a young man was discovered in amongst the detritus on the outskirts of Gasnon, one of the less reputable areas of the city. The constabulary was summoned and, after a quick survey of the scene, they took the body to the central mortuary.
There the Chief Magistrate viewed the body and noted in the records that the death had been the result of the storm. No one in the neighborhood where the body was discovered had known the youth—hardly strange, given the district’s attraction to those desperate souls who flocked to Dagar with no coin hoping to resurrect their fortunes. The Chief Magistrate noted that, by his color, the youth was a Mannurary and had the local Caciques brought to the mortuary to see if they could identify him. They dutifully put on their finest suits and came to look upon the body, all of them declaring they had never laid eyes on the man.
The Chief Magistrate thanked the elders for their time and had them promise to inform him if they received word that the youth had family who were missing him. He did not expect them to, for there were so many people, Mannurary or otherwise, who came to Dagar, alone and in search of a better life, only to end up on the streets, destitute and broken. They waited a day at the mortuary for someone to come forward to claim the body, and when no claimant materialized, the chief magistrate ordered it be laid upon a cooling board with ice beneath it and set out in the public room.
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