The war was won, but the threat of a different kind of enemy—the invisible armies of plague and pestilence—now loomed over us. The sudden tripling of Oakhaven's population, with thousands of men living in a temporary, crowded encampment, created a sanitation crisis that was more dangerous than any royal legion. The stench of waste hung heavy in the air, and the city's original well, though now secondary, was showing signs of contamination.
The system, ever prescient, had provided the path. I now possessed the knowledge of [Civic Governance & Administration], and within it, a deep understanding of what ancient cities had learned through centuries of bitter, fatal experience. My first priority was not to build palaces or forts, but to secure the health of my people.
I used five of my forty newly acquired System Points immediately.
[BASIC SANITATION & PUBLIC HEALTH - KNOWLEDGE PACKET][Cost: 5 System Points.][Description: Provides foundational knowledge of waste management, disease vectors, germ theory (in its most basic, practical form), water purification, and quarantine protocols.]
Armed with this critical knowledge, I declared the 'Health and Purity Decree'. It was our first set of public health laws. The decree was simple but revolutionary. First, all drinking water was to be boiled before consumption. I demonstrated the process myself, explaining that an unseen 'impurity' in the water was the cause of the gut-sickness that had begun to spread. This simple act of boiling water was a miracle of public health that would save more lives than any battle we had fought.
Second, a new corps of 'Cleaners' was established, tasked with the systematic collection and disposal of waste. They dug deep pits far outside the city walls, where waste was buried and covered with layers of lime from our new kilns—a substance I now knew was a powerful disinfectant.
But the centerpiece of the new era was the completion of the Great Aqueduct. The project, already planned, was now infused with a new, desperate urgency and a higher level of technical sophistication. The thousands of new laborers, organized by my Ministry of Public Works, were put to the task.
It was a monumental undertaking. We quarried thousands of tons of stone. Following my designs, the masons, now including hundreds of skilled men from the captured legion, crafted the precise stone blocks and keystones for the arches. The aqueduct rose from the desert floor, a magnificent, sloping bridge of stone that snaked its way from the spring in the hills, across the valley, and into the heart of the city.
It was more than an engineering project; it was a symbol of our new society. The former royal soldiers, who had come to destroy us, were now building a structure of life-giving beauty. They worked side-by-side with Oakhaven citizens, their shared sweat and labor breaking down the barriers of mistrust far more effectively than any decree.
The day the final keystone was placed was a city-wide holiday. The entire population, old and new, gathered at the aqueduct's terminus in the city square. I had designed an ornate, multi-tiered fountain as its centerpiece, a testament to our newfound mastery over our environment.
With the council beside me, I gave the signal to open the sluice gate at the spring. A low rumble echoed down the stone channel. The city held its breath. Then, a trickle, followed by a surge. A stream of pure, clean, impossibly fresh water gushed from the fountainhead, splashing into the great stone basin below.
The people let out a single, unified roar of pure joy. They plunged their hands into the cool water, splashed it on their faces, and drank deeply from cupped hands. This was not just water; it was life, delivered to their very doorstep. It was a symbol of a government that cared not just for victory, but for the well-being of its people. The aqueduct washed away not just the filth and the threat of disease, but the last vestiges of Oakhaven as a desperate camp. We were now, truly, a city.