the Inkmen
They travelled in packs, like the vultures in the skies circling around their prey before they were assured of it's fate. But these vultures were different. Their horses were mighty steeds from the Arab lands, covered not in armor but splendid cloth and textiles. Their riders, of course, were dressed just as richly. Their clothes were made of fine Persian wool with a hint of expensive silk recieved from the East decades ago. They all had neatly trimmed mustaches and beards and wore turbans in the manner of the caliphs, albeit smaller and less excuisite.
They were the inkmen. By their saddle were always two pouches that they guarded with their lives, for woe be to him that lost one. In the first of these pouches there were stacks of expensive paper, bought probably in Bagdad or the Persian markets. In the othe were equally expensive quills and tightly sealed bottles of ink.
They had all graduated from the small academy the Shah had recently established in Khiva. In there they learned mathametics right up to the technique of algebra, simple writing, and the other basic duties of scribes. From there they were quickly given horses (for the Turkmen all knew how to ride one) and sent off to account for every last person living in the Shah's domains.
They'd ride up to each and every village there was, past the green Turkmen fields where the sheep graised, and ask to speak to the chiefatin of them. They would show him the royal seal to prove their status as the Shah's servants, as if their clothes didn't tell enough, and demand the chiefatin's full help and compliance in numbering all of his men. The Chiefatins would of course agree, and within a small alteration of the sun dial the herds would be rounded up and the entire village would be facing the Inkmen on top of a nearby hill.
The Inkmen would then count and recount before recording all necessary information on their paper. Then they wouldshout to the villagers to all seperate themselves... women and men, adults and children, married and nonmarried, fighting age or elderly, and any number of different groupings the Inkmen were curious about. The whole process would last until the sun was dark, when the Inkmen would thank the chiefatin for his cooperation and reward him in an assortment of small gifts.
There would be a jovial feast that night between the Inkmen, the chiefatin, and the village's mightiest warriors. The Inkmen would tell the Chiefatin of the shah's plan, and show them where in the Northwest they could settle. They told them they would have to set off before winter came, and gave him detailed maps. They also told him to come to Khiva if any furhter instructions were needed. With that they hurried back to their outposts so that they could get a good night of rest before picking up their work for the sha at the rise of dawn the next morning.