It was a bright, peaceful day in the late winter season, and the capital of the newly expanded princedom basked in the quiet hum of prosperity.
In just five years, what had once been a remote and unremarkable town on the edges of relevance had transford into a burgeoning seat of power, one befitting a realm on the rise.
The population, which only a few winters ago numbered just over 24,000, had now swelled to nearly 32,000, a staggering increase of more than 30%.
This demographic boom was the result of a constellation of policies and developnts, that led to various factors each with his contribution to it.
Chief among them was a noticeable drop in the cost of food, spurred by the rapid expansion of cultivated farmland.
This expansion had co through a policy of assimilation and resettlent , whereby newly integrated tribes were swiftly brought to productive use to grow farmland and serve the state in wars.
Supply grew, while demand remained steady, lowering prices and easing the burden on the lower classes.
Equally impactful was a profound economic shift.
Yarzat had evolved into a thriving comrcial hub, drawing rchants from across the region.
With trade routes converging and markets booming, coin flowed freely through the city’s veins. This influx of wealth led to a flowering of new businesses, shops, and taverns. Alongside this, the prince’s ambitious infrastructure programs, new roads, expanded districts, improved canals, created an enormous demand for labor.
This demand proved irresistible for many of the rural poor, particularly the landless third and fourth sons who, by the traditions of inheritance, had little claim to their family estates. Drawn by the promise of wages and opportunity, they poured into the capital, swelling its ranks and feeding its rapid rise.
Similar to what happened following the industrial revolution, when people from the farmlands went in search of work in town, leading to overpopulation in town and underpopulation in the countryside.
Ordinarily, such a sharp and sudden rise in population would bring with it an equally troubling surge in cri.
Prosperity, after all, is a coin with two faces, one that draws progress, and the other that lures the shadows of society to its glow.
But that was not the case in Yarzat.
The streets remained orderly, and lawlessness was swiftly and efficiently dealt with. This was largely due to the relentless efforts of the city guard, commanded by the ever-watchful Lord Laedio.
Under his leadership, organized criminal gangs were hunted down and dismantled with clinical precision, their networks torn apart before they could take root in the fertile soil of rapid urban growth.
What remained were only isolated wrongdoers, petty thieves and desperate n, whose attempts at disruption were consistently thwarted by a well-distributed guard presence. Patrols marched daily along every major thoroughfare, and crackdowns were frequent, often sweeping up trouble before it could even begin to stir.
As a result, Yarzat was becoming sothing rare in the south, a bit like a smaller Rolia that, however, diffenretly from the great Empire had a much bigger prospect of improvent.
A city not only of growth, but of balance.
It was, in every aningful sense, unlike any other city in the southern lands: a blank parchnt unspoiled by the stains of decadence or decay, yet already inked with the first marks of a grand design.
Yarzat had beco a city overflowing with potential.
It had all the ingredients necessary for lasting growth: a swelling population, a steady influx of coin, and most importantly, a marketplace where prices remained affordable even for the common man.
These three pillars, people, wealth, and access, ford the foundation upon which Yarzat’s transformation was being built.
It was this precise awareness of this change, that would certainly bring future challenges that had led Alpheo to approve Pontus’s ambitious proposal to construct a sewer system.
While costly, the decision was one born from foresight rather than extravagance.
As the city’s population surged, so too did the risk of disease.
Without proper infrastructure, Yarzat could all too easily collapse under the weight of its own success.
Alpheo understood that hygiene was not a luxury, it was a necessity. And if the city was to thrive, it could not allow filth and plague to creep into its alleys and fester in its gutters. Investing in clean foundations was the quiet scaffolding upon which any great capital stood.
Plus, it was also a matter of his own security, as, after all , epidemics and sicknesses didn’t see any social or territorial bounds, as it was just and equal in those that they chose.
Of course returning to the positive sides of things, the effects of Yarzat’s upward march were nowhere more visible than in the central square. Once a modest gathering place for the locals, it had blossod into a vibrant heart of comrce.
Stalls had multiplied, spilling out into adjacent alleys and corners. Local foods were still present, but they now shared space with more exotic wares....baskets of spice and strange fruits like citrus brought by Azanian rchants, who ca here selling their goods and buying soap and cider, who had co to be known even in the other continent.
These goods, once considered luxuries, found eager markets here.
The reason was simple: Yarzat’s economic atmosphere had changed. The flourishing industries of the city, paper, soap, and its increasingly renowned cider, had drawn rchants and craftsn from across the region. With them ca silver, and with silver ca appetite. The rising rcantile class sought variety, and foreign traders were all too eager to supply it.
After all, as foreign rchants sailed the sea to buy wares, they could also sell theirs and make a double profit once they returned to their holand.
All in all, things never looked better in the city.
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A man bowed low, his neck bent at a perfect ninety-degree angle, arms outstretched with practiced deference.
"Thank you for your patronage, sir," he said, his voice polite but quick, eyes glancing up only for a mont as a thick bundle of papers dropped into his waiting hands. His fingers flexed slightly as he felt the weight.
More than usual. More ssages. More hours.
"Long live Their Grace. As always, your paynt will be on the first of next month," replied the man he addressed, who, truthfully, was no knight , no ’sir,’ but made no effort to correct the formality. His voice was dry and asured, like a man accustod to keeping pace with clockwork.
He was one of the prince’s burecrat, and honestly this was just one of the first duties of the day, so he was eager to get it over with and did not have much ti to waste here.
"Of course, sir. Long live Their Grace. May their reign never end," the City-Speaker echoed quickly, watching the man turn on his heel and vanish into the crowd, his stride sharp and impatient, as if the noise and bustle of the square offended him personally.
Left alone again, he looked down at the bundle in his hands. He ran a thumb across the edges, loosening the string, and pulled out the first of the pages. His lips twitched in a small, private smile.
Things had gone well for him these past months. Better than he’d dared to hope, in fact. Ever since he’d won that contract with the court, his life had taken a turn.
The coin ca regularly, enough not just to feed himself but to support his family with comfort. His duties? Simple. Recite whatever ssage the court wanted echoed through the square. Speak loud, speak clear, and keep to the script.
And speak he did.
It was he who had cried out the fall of the Herculeian capital, his voice rising over the crowd like a trumpet blast. It was he who had proclaid the victory at the Battle of Stiltum, who stoked the fires of joy when the people heard the war had ended with their prince in total triumph.
Of course, not every day brought such glory. Most of the ti, it was mundane announcents as not always the court had news to shares.
Processions, religious ceremonies, tis for mass, market ordinances were the bulk of his work. But he delivered each with the sa practiced cadence, knowing that even the dullest parchnt bore him coins.
And really, for what he was paid? He’d shout whatever profanity they one wanted him to shout.
Quite a bit more than usual, he noted, lifting the bundle slightly in one hand as if to weigh it again. A quick flick of his thumb started counting the sheets, eight, nine... twelve. That was a full breath more work than he typically received. Not that he minded. It was better to have an hard work , than none at all, and for a man with a wife, two children, and a mother who refused to let go of her habits , it was always welco to have work to do.
Still, before he opened his mouth to speak a single word aloud, he needed to read. Carefully.
Just because he was paid to announce the news didn’t an he should deliver it like so street-caller barking out the catch of the day. Especially since this was court business, so he certainly wouldn’t take it easy.
He had long since learned that the cadence of a phrase mattered just as much as the words themselves.
He couldn’t, after all, proclaim the death of a minister with the sa exuberance used to trumpet a battlefield triumph. Nor should a tax increase sound like the coming of spring.
Tone carried power.
His eyes dropped to the first page. Skimming the inked lines, his brow lifted slightly as he tilted his head, absorbing the ssage.
"Now that," he murmured to himself, "is going to please the folk."
It was an announcent of new public works, fresh infrastructure efforts funded by the crown, and more importantly, more jobs for the taking.Laborers would be needed in great number. Stonecutters. Carpenters. Loaders. Diggers. Even scribes for the ledgers, if he read the line correctly.
The square would be abuzz with it before sundown.
Everyone after all loved being able to sustain themselves.
He turned the page, eager now, before realising that what he had thought to be the main news of the day , was rely the opening act.
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