Apollo 30th, 1442
Two weeks have passed since I assumed this mantle of rule, and the weight and wonder of change press upon me like the first rays of dawn breaking through a long, stifling night. In these short days, I embarked on journeys that brought me to the heart of our old territories' capitals—a trip that revealed both the deep-seated suffering of our people and the resilient spark of hope kindled by fresh reforms.
I traveled first to the once-grand capitals where the remnants of noble extravagance lay juxtaposed with the people's wretched despair. In these cities, I bore witness to a brutality that no ruler should ever overlook. For far too long, the nobles have imposed extreme taxes on the common people, exacting from them an unyielding tribute that has left many teetering on the edge of starvation. It was not the majority, thankfully, that succumbed entirely to hunger, but a grievous 15% of the population were actively dying of starvation—frail souls whose plight lays bare the cruelty of a system designed to enrich the privileged few at the expense of the many.
As I walked through narrow alleyways and dilapidated marketplaces, the stench of neglect mingled with the bitter tang of despair. The people, desperate and downtrodden, could scarcely spare a coin for even the most basic sustenance, let alone the upkeep of their crumbling abodes. With little left to invest in their dwellings, entire neighborhoods lay in a state of utter disrepair. Poor housing compounded their suffering; families, already burdened by the heavy yoke of taxation, were forced to reside in structures so feeble that the promise of a safe, comfortable life remained a distant fantasy.
Yet the physical decay was only one aspect of this suffering. The design of these ancient cities—recklessly sprawled, haphazard and unplanned—had left them ripe for devastation by disease. With no adequate waste management system in place, the accumulation of refuse and the stagnation of polluted water created a veritable breeding ground for illness. Houses huddled so closely together that airborne diseases spread with alarming speed, leaving none untouched by their indiscriminate scourge. The very proximity that should have allowed for the budding of community instead fostered isolation, as each citizen retreated inward in a desperate bid to stave off contagion.
Even more disheartening was the palpable isolation between communities. Despite the physical proximity of settlements—sometimes separated by as little as thirty kilometers—journeys between them were arduous and dangerous. The absence of reliable roads or any semblance of public infrastructure rendered travel a luxury far beyond the reach of most citizens. This isolation had fostered an environment where mistrust and solitude replaced the joys of communal life. The quiet desperation was as much spatial as it was emotional; without connection, each city became a lonely island in a vast sea of deprivation.
Against this grim tableau, I began to enact a series of reforms aimed at turning the tide of despair. One of my primary projects, which I had prioritized from the very start of my rule, was the establishment of a new road network—one that would stitch these fractured communities into a unified tapestry of commerce, support, and hope. I commissioned the construction of a monumental sixteen-line road, a colossal structure designed to connect the three largest cities of our territories. It was not merely a physical artery but a lifeline, intended to spur trade, ease the burden of transportation, and, most importantly, restore a measure of dignity to our people.
The impact of this great venture was almost immediate. One particularly gratifying outcome was an upturn in what we term the Common Peoples Index (CPI), a metric specifically devised to quantify the living standards of our citizens. The CPI is calculated by comparing the average income of an area to its average basic household expenditures. For example, consider a scenario where a region boasts an average hourly wage of 134 mills—which translates into an annual income of 675.36 NSD. If the cost of sustaining basic needs in that region amounts to 590 NSD per year, the CPI would stand at 1.144. A figure such as this signifies that a community not only meets its fundamental needs but also enjoys a modest surplus—enough to venture into the realm of lower middle-class comforts.
To elucidate further, the categories of the CPI breakdown as follows:
- A CPI lower than 0.800 indicates a society where people cannot afford their basic needs, living in abject scarcity with no hope for luxuries.
- A CPI between 0.800 and 0.900 reflects a marginal improvement, where essential needs are met at bare minimum, but luxuries remain forever out of reach.
- A CPI of less than 1.000 tells a story of survival—families making do with just enough to cover basic expenses, creating burdens on the overall economy.
- A CPI between 1.000 and 1.100 is emblematic of a community that, while still tight, manages to eke out a modest quality of life.
- Climbing higher, a CPI below 1.250 suggests that there is room for not just necessities but modest luxuries—a mark of lower middle-class status.
- And a CPI exceeding 1.500 signifies a thriving community, one that is significantly prosperous and capable of affording comforts beyond the basic necessities.
In the midst of these dire conditions, the Alryne District provided a case study in both despair and hope. Prior to the introduction of our infrastructural initiatives, the region's CPI languished at a dismal 0.894—a direct consequence of its crippled trade routes and a chaotic, antiquated infrastructure that rendered commerce nearly impossible and prohibitively expensive. However, with roads paved, bridges erected, and the vital resources supplied by the newly invigorated Apollo Companies, we witnessed this figure rise to 1.081. Although not yet emblematic of thriving wealth, this improvement signified that a larger portion of the populace could now afford their basic needs—a monumental victory in the battle against poverty.
The dramatic changes extended to the financial structure of our realm as well. In the span of these two weeks, the Reserve Bank of Apollo (RBA) had been established as the federal reserve for the Alpine Earldom. Under this new system, an impressive 18,408,306 bills were distributed—a veritable injection of fiscal stimulus into the heart of our economy. The sheer value of these bills, totaled in at 1,484.81 kilograms of gold, equating to a value of $152,974,730.10 USD, bolstered public confidence and ignited the engines of commerce. With every transaction, the trust in this new system grew, and so too did the promise of a more equitable economic future.
I then journeyed to the City of Linshen—an urban expanse that had borne the brunt of the previous government's oppressive taxation. Once, Linshen's CPI registered a dismal 0.804; its people suffered daily under the weight of exorbitant costs and insufficient infrastructure. But through our concerted public works projects, the CPI leaped to 1.163—a transformation that, beyond the numerical value, symbolized a reinvigorated sense of hope among its citizens. The road networks, coupled with the newly instituted public policies, reduced the undue pressure on consumer goods and fostered a more balanced marketplace where trade flourished and opportunities abounded.
The City of Owdon, though relatively better off than its counterparts in earlier years with a starting CPI of 0.913, was no stranger to hardship. Its citizens had endured a life of scarcity despite modest innate prosperity. However, after the transformative improvements in public infrastructure—most notably, the new road systems—the CPI climbed to 1.198. This substantial improvement was achieved solely through the easing of transportation woes, a testament to the profound impact that connectivity and easier access to essential resources can have on a community's welfare.
Yet, as I reflect on these numbers and the tangible improvements in infrastructure, I recognize that the CPI, while a vital metric for assessing economic health, offers but a narrow lens through which to view the state of our society. It is a necessary gauge for measuring the material improvements that have been instituted—the roads, the bridges, the monetary reforms—but it cannot fully capture the breadth of the challenges that still confront us. There remain myriad projects underway, each addressing different facets of our communal life—from public health to housing reform, from education to the cultivation of social bonds.
One glaring concern persists: the scourge of disease that once ravaged our overcrowded cities. Even as our road network transforms the way people interact and do business, plans are already underway to tackle the systemic failures in urban planning that allowed diseases to spread unchecked. I have commissioned experts in sanitation and public health to reimagine our cities—not merely as hubs of commerce, but as safe havens where every citizen can thrive in an environment designed for modern needs. Future projects will focus on comprehensive waste management systems, the construction of venture hospitals, and the incorporation of open, breathable spaces to mitigate the risk of airborne illnesses.
The housing crisis too demands our unwavering attention. The dilapidated state of our residential structures is not merely a symptom of economic hardship—it is a glaring indictment of the policies that have allowed exploitation to flourish for far too long. We are now devising plans to subsidize the renovation of existing homes and to construct new, affordable housing that meets modern standards of safety and comfort. These initiatives, combined with our comprehensive road and trading improvements, will serve as the foundation upon which a healthier, more connected society is built.
As I move forward, I am haunted by the stark dichotomy between the atrocities of the past and the promising glow of future reforms. The repercussions of the previous governance—where the indifference of the nobility dictated the fates of the innumerable poor—are seared into my memory. I have seen firsthand the desolation of neighborhoods left to crumble, the silent suffering of families who cannot secure food on their tables, and the helplessness etched on the faces of those abandoned by a system that prioritized opulence over life. This is a realm marred by neglect, and it is upon my shoulders to repair the bonds of community and rebuild the infrastructure of trust.
The strides we have made in just a handful of weeks invigorate me with both hope and determination. Every stone laid in the construction of our new road network is a deliberate step toward reuniting the fragmented territories of our realm. Every bill distributed under the auspices of the RBA is a tangible token of progress—an answer to the economic stagnation that once paralyzed us. More than that, every improved CPI figure in Alryne, Linshen, or Owdon is a silent testament to the resilience of our people and a clear signal that the tide is finally turning.
Yet, I am well aware that these accomplishments, while significant, are but the prelude to a much grander design. The transformation of our society is an ongoing journey—a painstaking, deliberate process that demands not only infrastructural changes but also a revitalization of the spirit and trust of the people. As roads replace barren paths and bridges span once impassable divides, I must also bridge the chasm between the scarce provisions of the past and the abundant promise of a future that lifts every citizen.
I have pledged to invest not only in physical structures but in the very fabric of communal life. The new system, built upon the distribution of wealth through meticulously calculated reforms, aims to foster a community where every person has the opportunity to flourish. With the improved CPI as an early indicator of success, we are now poised to introduce initiatives that address education, cultural enrichment, and healthcare. For it is not enough that the people can secure their basic needs—true progress means nurturing the human spirit, enabling creativity, and restoring a dignified way of life.
In the coming weeks, meticulous plans are being drafted to establish community centers where citizens can gather, share ideas, and collectively shape the destiny of our territories. Investments in public parks and recreational spaces will open up venues for relief from the constant pressures of daily life—a reminder that even in times of great change, the soul of a society thrives on connection, leisure, and shared dreams. I envision a future where our cities, long known for their isolation and hardship, become beacons of community spirit and vibrant innovation.
Even as I stand amid the tangible signs of renewal—roads repaved, bridges rising, and a burgeoning monetary system that instills hope—I remain deeply aware of the moral imperatives that guide each of my decisions. I am driven by a singular conviction: that leadership must be measured not solely by numbers and infrastructure, but also by the smiles of the children playing in the streets, the relief expressed by a weary worker finally able to afford decent shelter, and the renewed trust of citizens who dare to dream of a future where opportunity is not the privilege of a few. With each incremental improvement in the CPI, with every bill issued and every road laid, I see the face of our people beginning to change—not just in statistics or description, but in spirit.
Thus, as I prepare to unveil the next phase of our reforms, I do so with gratitude for the progress already made and a solemn determination to leave no one behind. The transformation that began two weeks ago is merely a seed—one that, if nurtured with wisdom, compassion, and unwavering resolve, will blossom into a society where every citizen thrives both materially and spiritually.