A ripple of astonishment passed through the group. Soraya's eyebrows shot up. The east drawing room was a private dining space near the Emperor's quarters. He was inviting not just Soraya, but all of them?
"Did I hear correctly?" Parissa said, voice hushed with disbelief. "He wants all of us to dine with him this evening?"
The eunuch nodded. "Yes, my lady. It will be an informal supper. Dress comfortably. His Majesty specifically said, 'Tell them this is a family meal, not a state occasion.'"
Darya looked as if her heart might burst from joy; she clasped her hands to her chest. Leilah was blinking rapidly, stunned. Nasrin composed herself first, a satisfied smile curving her lips—she knew a diplomatic overture when she saw one.
Yvara laughed aloud. "John Arslan Sullivan Rûmî, you sly lion," she exclaimed, mixing his names fondly in a jumble. "He's truly intent on turning tradition upside down tonight."
Soraya felt a rush of affection and pride. Arslan had taken it upon himself to extend this olive branch. Likely Soraya's idea of a group dinner had been in his mind too. Now he had made the first move, signaling the harem ladies were to be treated as part of his inner circle, almost like family.
"We shall be there," Soraya told the eunuch with a gracious nod.
As he left, the pergola erupted in excited chatter about what to wear and how to act. Parissa insisted they each recite a clever anecdote or poem to charm the Emperor. Darya fretted over what music to play if any. Leilah quietly asked Soraya if she should bring Arslan's notebook, to which Soraya laughed and said perhaps leave the work for tomorrow—tonight was for companionship.
Soraya herself felt a flutter of nerves. This gathering would be unlike any dinner these women had ever had with the Emperor. Usually, such interactions were one-on-one or orchestrated as formal ceremonies. But Arslan wanted an informal meal, an intimate setting. It spoke volumes about his evolving feelings—he was ready to know them as individuals, not just beautiful shadows in the background of court.
Yvara looped her arm through Soraya's as they all rose to prepare for the supper. In a low voice meant only for Soraya, she said, "You've done it, dear. Whatever happens next, you've set something in motion that can't be stopped."
Soraya pressed her cheek to Yvara's shoulder affectionately as they walked. "Not I alone. All of us." She looked ahead to the other four, who were already vanishing down corridors to dress in their best casual finery, giggling like schoolgirls at the prospect of the evening. "They needed purpose. He needed allies of the heart. Perhaps, Yvara, this was always meant to be."
The older woman smiled knowingly. "When you first arrived, I sensed greatness in you. You were ambitious, yes, but also kind. Those qualities rarely meet in one person. Now look at you—leading not with rank or fear, but with love and intelligence."
Soraya felt her eyes prickle. To hear that from Yvara, who had seen countless harem intrigues and broken dreams, meant the world. "I learned from the best," she murmured, echoing words she'd said to Arslan the night before.
Yvara gave a gentle pat to Soraya's hand. "Go on now, you should dress too. The Emperor may have said 'comfortable,' but a little radiance never hurts." With a playful wink, she moved off to supervise Darya's wardrobe selection.
Soraya stood alone in the courtyard for a moment, breathing in the perfume of jasmine and the faint mist from the fountain. Just this morning, she had feared scorn and isolation. Now, by extending trust and understanding to her fellow women, she had found acceptance and renewed friendship. Their little coalition felt like the first bloom of something new and promising within the palace walls—a counter to the old rigidity.
She sent a silent thanks to Arslan for having faith in her—and for being willing to change himself. Truly, they were remaking not just the city, but the very way an Emperor lived and ruled. As Soraya left the garden to prepare for the supper, she felt a surge of optimism. Together, they would prove that strength and compassion could coexist, that tradition could bend without shattering, and that even in the politics of the harem, unity could triumph over jealousy.
That evening, when they would all break bread with the Emperor like a family, would mark the first tangible step in Arslan's palace becoming a warmer, more human place. And Soraya, heart full, intended to savor every moment of it.
Chapter 34: Designs of Arcane Innovation
The next morning found Emperor Arslan at the head of the Imperial Council, convened in the vaulted Hall of Governance. Sunlight filtered through high clerestory windows, illuminating motes of dust above a long table of polished oak where ministers, generals, and advisors took their seats. Soraya sat to Arslan's right—a bold placement that drew a few raised eyebrows—and on his left sat Magister Salim, the court mage. Though not a council member by rank, Salim had been invited specifically for the discussion to come. Leilah was not present in this formal setting; for now, the Emperor introduced the topic himself.
"Honored Councilors," Arslan began, his voice carrying the confidence of victory and the energy of new purpose, "the war is won and our borders secured. Now our attention turns inward—to the wellbeing of our people and the strength of our city. Last night, reviewing reports, I was alarmed by accounts of illness in the lower wards." He unfurled a parchment and read briefly. "Twenty-three cases of the Summer Fever in the Tanner's District this past month, traced to foul water from a contaminated well. Three children dead of it." A murmur rippled through the table.
Arslan's eyes hardened. "This is unacceptable. No child in the City of Light should die because the water they drink is poisoned by our own filth."
A rotund minister cleared his throat. "Your Majesty, public wells are cleaned regularly, but the Tanner's District is... well, the drainage there is poor. It lies in a low spot by the riverbank. We've had trouble with sewage seeping..."
"Yes," Arslan said, cutting through the man's hemming. "The infrastructure is failing in some neighborhoods. We have aqueducts built decades ago that are cracked. Storm drains that backflow. Cisterns that are unfiltered. These problems have been allowed to fester under previous reigns, overshadowed by wars and courtly affairs." His gaze swept over the assembled, some of whom shifted uncomfortably knowing they had been part of that negligence.
"I intend to change this, swiftly and decisively," Arslan continued. "We have at our disposal a resource our forebears did not: the mastery of Rune-Enscriptive Energetics—arcane engineering. We will use it to ensure a safe water supply and proper sanitation for the capital."
A stunned silence met his proclamation. Minister Aru was the first to break it. The silver-haired vizier rose slightly from his seat. "Your Majesty, no one doubts the gravity of the issue, but employing sorcery for municipal works... is that prudent? Magic can be volatile. Perhaps traditional methods—more brick channels, more night-soil wagons—"
"—have been tried and found wanting," Soraya interjected, her tone polite but firm. "Forgive me, Minister Aru, but the population of our city has grown beyond what manual carts and age-old sewers can handle. Even if we rebuilt every pipe, without purification the water can still carry disease. Innovation is needed."
Aru pursed his lips at being corrected by Soraya in open council, but Arslan nodded approvingly. He gestured to Magister Salim. "Our esteemed Magister has already prepared preliminary ideas at my request. Salim, if you please."
Salim stood, smoothing his sapphire robes. He spoke in a reedy, scholarly voice. "Your Majesty and Councilors, in the archives of the Enderun library we have tomes on rune-craft applications. One such treatise suggests that certain runes—specifically a combination of a Flow glyph and a Purification glyph—could be used to create what is termed an 'Aqua Vitae Array.' In theory, carving such arrays into the lining of a water channel could continuously cleanse water passing through and even draw it along, much like a siphon pump but powered by ambient magical energy."
Many around the table looked blank at the technical jargon. General Safid frowned, trying to follow, while the Treasury Minister leaned forward, eyes narrowed at the mention of ambient energy—which likely sounded expensive.
Arslan translated the concept into plainer terms. "Imagine, gentlemen, a fountain in a public square that never runs dry of clean water. A well that purifies any water drawn from it, removing filth and disease. Gutters that carry away waste and leave the streets clean. All of this achieved by stable rune inscriptions that work day and night without human toil, beyond routine maintenance."
The Chancellor of the Treasury, a thin man with ink-stained fingers, coughed softly. "That sounds wondrous, Your Majesty, but also costly. Runesmiths and materials—"
"Costly?" Arslan echoed, fixing the man with a steely stare. "Is it more costly than losing children to preventable disease? Than workers falling ill and commerce suffering? We will allocate funds from the western war booty if needed. Emeralds and gold gathered from Gur-Khan's Shield will be turned into clean water and health for our people."
That pronouncement silenced the Treasurer, who nodded hastily.
Aru tried a different angle. "There is also the question of risk. As Minister of Security I must consider: if we weave magic into the city's very pipes and wells, what if something goes awry? A mis-drawn rune could poison the water or cause an explosion. Perhaps smaller experiments first, in controlled settings..."
Arslan's jaw tightened—Aru's constant cautious obstruction was growing tiresome. But before he could respond, a calm voice spoke up from further down the table.
"His Majesty is wise to suggest starting here in the capital," came the measured tone of Nasrin, who as a royal consort had no official seat but had been invited to observe today, at Soraya's suggestion. All heads turned to the poised olive-skinned woman who met their gaze steadily. "A demonstration of success here will silence fears and build trust. And of course any new endeavor should be tested on a small scale before full implementation. I believe that is the Emperor's intent." She nodded respectfully to Arslan.
Soraya suppressed a smile. Nasrin had deftly reframed Aru's objection as support for a prudent pilot program, taking the sting out of his resistance.
"Just so," Arslan agreed smoothly. "We will start with the central bazaar district as a pilot—the heart of the city. One purified fountain and a network of runically-enhanced drains feeding into a treatment conduit outside the walls. Once we perfect the system there, we can expand outward in phases."
Another minister raised his hand. "What of maintenance? Few in the city know anything of runes. If something breaks..."
Magister Salim answered, "Part of this initiative will be training a new cadre of technicians—Flux-tenders and runekeepers—drawn perhaps from the existing plumber guilds and augmented with those who have minor magical aptitudes. They'll learn to maintain and inspect the arrays. We can establish protocols, much as we audit weights and measures or the mint."
Soraya added, "It could even create a new guild of arcane artisans, providing employment. The common folk often view magic with suspicion; seeing it used for everyday benefit and even providing jobs will greatly increase goodwill toward the Throne."
At that, even some skeptics around the table murmured agreement. The political foresight was clear: happier, healthier citizens meant a stabler reign.
Arslan surveyed the room. "If there are no further concerns..."
Minister Aru wisely held his tongue now. Others exchanged looks but no one spoke up to oppose the plan outright.
"Very well," Arslan said. "This Council empowers the necessary works. Treasurer, allocate an initial budget from the war treasury for materials and stipends for artisans. Minister of Works, coordinate with the city's guilds to provide laborers and identify the most problematic sewer lines. Magister Salim—" he turned to the old mage, "assemble your top apprentices and coordinate with my chosen project leads on the runic design. Lady Soraya will oversee the administrative side and public outreach." He gave Soraya a warm glance, acknowledging her key role.
"And who will lead the technical implementation, Sire?" asked the Works Minister. "Surely not you personally..."
"Actually, yes," Arslan answered. "I will be directly involved. This project is as vital as any battle to me. I will co-lead the design and implementation with our arcane experts." His tone indicated the matter was not up for debate.
He rose to signal the meeting's end, the others hastily standing as well. "We begin at once. I expect progress reports daily. In one week's time, I aim to show this city something remarkable."
The ministers bowed and departed, each set to their tasks. Aru lingered a moment, exchanging a glance with Soraya that she met steadily. He gave a tight nod—something between grudging respect and unresolved wariness—before striding out with the rest.
As the hall emptied, Magister Salim approached Arslan and Soraya. The white-bearded mage's eyes were alight with scholarly excitement. "Your Majesty, I must admit, when you first broached this idea last night I was skeptical. But seeing your resolve and Lady Soraya's eloquent arguments... I am convinced it's worth the attempt." He stroked his beard. "We will need to calculate the exact runic sequences carefully. I have texts to consult—"
Arslan clapped the Magister's shoulder. "I have someone who can assist in that regard. Join me in the archives after noon; I'll introduce you to an additional collaborator."
Salim raised a bushy eyebrow but nodded. "Very well. I shall bring the old lexicons and my best quills."
Once he left, Soraya turned to Arslan with a proud smile. "You handled them brilliantly."
He shook his head with a chuckle. "I think half of them nearly fainted when you and Nasrin spoke up. Two women shaping policy in one morning—it might be a record."
Soraya slipped her hand into his as they walked out to a side corridor. "If they nearly faint at that, they'd best toughen up. We're just getting started."
Arslan lifted her hand and brushed a kiss across her knuckles, a rare open display of affection within the palace walls, albeit in a quiet hallway. "I must go prepare with Salim and Leilah for the design work. Will you join us?"
Soraya shook her head gently. "Not for the technical parts. Leilah has the expertise you need, and too many voices might muddle the process. I'll coordinate with Rashid about announcing the project to the public when the time is right, and make sure the guilds are cooperative." She gave him a sly look. "Someone has to ensure the laborers don't panic that their jobs are being replaced by magic."
"Always ten steps ahead," Arslan said warmly. He leaned in and whispered, "If all emperors had advisors like you, the world would be a far better place."
Soraya squeezed his arm. "Go on, then. Leilah will be eager. And I suspect you're rather looking forward to this as well—don't think I haven't seen that excited gleam in your eye at the prospect of tinkering with runes."
Arslan laughed softly; she knew him too well. Ever since he discovered magic in this world, a part of him—the curious engineer-soldier from another life—thrilled at unlocking its secrets, not just for destruction, but creation.
They parted ways, Soraya heading off with purposeful strides to find Rashid, and Arslan turning toward the Imperial Archives.
Deep in the marble halls of the palace's Archive wing, Arslan and Magister Salim pushed open a heavy cedar door. The Rûh-Khana — the soul-treasury as scholars called it — was a vast circular library with a domed ceiling painted like a starry night. Shelves of scrolls and books lined the walls from floor to dome, accessible by spiral staircases and wheeled ladders.
At a long table in the center, surrounded by flickering oil lamps and piles of open tomes, sat Leilah. She had changed from morning into a simple plum-colored gown, her hair neatly braided back. In front of her was Arslan's notebook and several reference volumes on runic theory, one propped open to a page of glyph diagrams. She looked up as they entered, and immediately rose, ducking into a respectful bow.
"Your Majesty," Leilah said, then adding with a polite nod toward Salim, "Magister."
Arslan noted a hint of nervousness in her posture—after all, this was her first time working as an equal alongside such lofty personages. He gave her an encouraging smile. "Leilah, thank you for starting without us. I trust you found the materials you needed?"
Her face brightened a little. "Yes, Your Majesty. I—I took the liberty of fetching several treatises on bind-runes and elemental sigils. Magister Salim's own compendium was particularly helpful." She glanced shyly at the old mage, who looked at her with curiosity.
"Have we met before, young lady?" Salim asked, peering through his spectacles.
Leilah shook her head. "Not formally, Magister. I've attended some of your lectures from behind the screen in the harem schoolroom."
Salim's eyebrows shot up. "A concubine with an interest in rune theory? Remarkable. I had no idea my talks had such an audience."
Arslan intervened gently, "Leilah is here at my invitation. She's well-read in ancient scripts and has a gift for analytical thinking. We'll need every clever mind we have to make this project succeed." He gestured for both of them to be seated. "Now, let's get to work, shall we?"
They settled around the table strewn with parchment, notebooks, and charcoal sticks. Arslan rolled out a fresh sheet of thick drafting paper. At the top he wrote in bold strokes: City of Light Water & Sanitation Arrays – Design Draft 1.
"First, the goals," Arslan said. "We need a runic solution to two problems: providing clean drinking water, and removing waste safely."
Salim tapped a quill. "Clean water: the Flow + Purify bind-array we discussed."
Leilah interjected, "I've been analyzing that combination." She opened Arslan's field notebook to the sketch of the overlapping runes. "Flow glyph here, Purify here. Overlaid at two synergetic nodes, sharing a common stroke to stabilize the structure."
Arslan was again struck by Leilah's quick grasp. She had annotated his sketch with a few neat notes about stroke order and mana flow. "I see you've refined the symbol."
Leilah nodded, warming to her subject. "Yes, sire. I cross-referenced it with a known Icelandic stave called Vegvísir, a way-finding sigil that guides one through storms. The Flow rune is conceptually similar—guiding water—while Purify aligns with the cleansing staves used historically for warding off plague." She traced the drawn bind-rune lightly with her fingertip. "This combined array, if executed properly, should both propel and cleanse water in an aqueduct or pipe."
Salim adjusted his spectacles, impressed. "Astute observations, my dear."
Leilah flushed at the praise but continued, "However, we must consider the substrate for inscribing this. Stone channels run throughout the city. Stone can hold an enchantment, but it's not as magically conductive as metal. The treatises recommend etching stone slowly with acid to let the rune sink in without fracturing the material."
Arslan recalled the relevant point from the R.E.E. guidelines. "Exactly. Stone prefers acid etching. We'll procure alchemical etchants—maybe a vinegar solution with a bit of vitriol for bite—to carve the runes along the inner surfaces of the main water channels."
He drew a quick cross-section of an aqueduct on the parchment, sketching the bind-rune on its inner curve.
"What about the scale?" Salim asked. "How frequently do we place the runes?"
Leilah answered promptly, "Based on the radius of effect given typical ambient ley-line density in the city, I'd estimate a Flow-Purify rune every five to ten paces along the channel would maintain continuous cleansing and motion."
She pulled another text closer, flipping to a marked page. "Here: Quarterly Sigil Audit records from the Patent Court – they mention kill-switch glyphs at five hundred-pace intervals for large-scale arrays to prevent cascade failures."
Arslan grinned; she had already absorbed one of the most critical safety practices. "Kill-switches, absolutely. We'll incorporate relief runes that deliberately break the array if energy surges beyond set parameters."
Salim stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Perhaps a simple Sever sigil tuned to fracture at a certain threshold. We can inscribe those on small marble plaques and embed them along the runic line. If too much flux flows, the plaque shatters and the circuit opens."
Arslan made a notation: Safety Sever Sigils every 500 ft. "Good. Better to replace a dozen small plaques than to have an entire network overload and explode."
Leilah's brow creased as another concern came to her. "We should also be careful about rune pairings near the water source. If we inadvertently combined something like a Pressure rune with a misaligned Purify—"
Salim chuckled dryly. "We might end up with a geyser of boiling water or a cloud of noxious vapor."
"Or a mana-storm," Arslan added grimly. "There are forbidden combinations. For instance—"
"Heat and Invert Phase," Leilah said simultaneously with Arslan, and then they both laughed softly. She explained for Salim's sake, "There was a recorded accident where an enchanter tried to create instant steam by binding Heat with Phase-Inversion on a boiler. It… did not end well."
Salim winced. "Ah yes, melted the poor fool's cauldron and half the roof. Quite right—caution with combinations."
They spent the next hour in intense discussion, sketching and refining. Arslan delegated the tasks: Salim would calculate the mana draw to ensure the ambient ley-lines through the city (supplemented by the Grand Nexus as needed) could support the continuous operation. Leilah would draft the final blueprint of the bind-array sequences, double-checking that each rune's placement and orientation was optimal. Arslan himself outlined the construction plan: which cisterns to inscribe first, how to divert water flow during engraving, and how to deploy teams in parallel to expedite work.
"Now for the waste side of things," Arslan said, moving to the second problem. He drew a simple street with a drain and sewer line beneath. "We need to move sewage out efficiently and treat it."
Leilah bit her lip in thought. "A Flow rune alone on drain channels could keep liquids moving, but solid waste... perhaps a combination of Pressure and Directional runes to create a gentle force pushing everything along?"
Salim pointed at a rune in one of the books – an arrow-like glyph. "Yes, a Directive sigil meaning 'Drive' or 'Convey'. If we inscribe those at intervals in the sewer tunnels, they could give a continual nudge downslope."
Arslan had another idea. "In some of my—" he caught himself before saying 'in my world', and amended, "—in some theoretical models I've read, filtering waste can be done by separating water from solids. Maybe we can use a Purify rune variant at the outflow, not to make it drinkable but to neutralize harmful elements before release."
Leilah's eyes brightened. "There is a lesser Purity glyph that specifically targets organic impurities—sort of a sanitizing sigil. We could place those at the final outlet where the effluent exits into a treatment pool outside the city. It might kill harmful miasmas or bacteria in the waste-water."
Salim frowned uncertainly. "Bacteria?"
"Tiny invisible creatures that cause disease," Arslan supplied. "Not widely known, but—" he caught the astonished look of Leilah and Salim. He recalled that germ theory was not established here. "—trust me on that, it's something I learned in my, ah, studies abroad."
Leilah gave him a curious glance, clearly wanting to know more, but she let it drop for now. "Invisible creatures or not, sanitizing the output is wise. And perhaps we can even incorporate an Earth rune to assist decomposition in the cesspits."
Salim tapped his quill. "Earth runes come in a few flavors. A Decay sigil exists, historically used to rot enemy grain supplies in sieges."
Arslan pointed his quill at the mage. "That could be repurposed to help compost the sewage, turning it into harmless fertilizer faster."
They all traded looks of half-amused amazement. Using a siege rune to rot filth for fertilizer—that was truly turning swords to plowshares in a sense.
"It will need careful tuning," Leilah noted. "We wouldn't want the Decay effect spreading beyond the intended pit." She jotted a note to include a containment circle around any such rune usage.
As midday light slanted through the high windows, the trio realized they had sketched plans across multiple sheets of parchment. Runes, arrays, notes, and diagrams littered the table. It was an ambitious blueprint, but it was taking shape.
Arslan stretched his arms, feeling the satisfying fatigue that came from fruitful planning. He looked at Leilah and Salim, both engrossed in reviewing their portions. This collaboration of diverse minds—an emperor, a harem scholar, an aged mage—felt invigorating and oddly natural.
A servant entered quietly to light additional lamps; afternoon was waning. He also brought a tray with dates, bread, and cheese, courtesy of Soraya no doubt ensuring they remembered to eat. Arslan thanked the servant and urged his two collaborators to take a break.
As they munched on the light refreshment, Arslan stood by one of the tall windows, gazing out. From here he could see a slice of the city: the rooftops of the bazaar, smoke curling from cookfires, and beyond, the glint of the river. People were going about their lives down there, unaware that in this quiet library their fates were being improved.
Leilah came to stand a few paces beside him, nibbling a date thoughtfully. "I still can hardly believe I'm here, doing this," she confessed quietly.
Arslan turned to her. "Not long ago I might have said the same of myself. Life is full of surprises."
She smiled, relaxing a fraction. "May I be honest, Your Majesty?"
"Always."
She looked down at the date in her hand. "When I was sent here from Qarthas, I feared my mind would wither away behind closed doors. I love learning, solving puzzles… but a concubine's path rarely allows for that beyond trivial hobbies. I never imagined I could use my knowledge for something truly meaningful." She lifted her gaze, and her dark eyes shone with fervor. "Now you've given me—given us—a chance to make a real difference. I'm… grateful. Deeply."
Arslan felt a warmth in his chest at her words. He realized he took a step closer, their shoulders nearly touching as they both looked out at the city. "It is I who should thank you, Leilah. Your insights have been invaluable. Without you, I'd still be fumbling through dusty scrolls trying to piece this together."
A pink blush rose on her cheeks. "I doubt that, sire. You are far more adept at this than you admit. These notes—" she gestured to his notebook, "—they show a keen mind for magic. You learn faster than any apprentice mage I've heard of."
He chuckled. "Necessity is a great teacher. When you fight for your life against sorcery, you either learn fast or not at all."
Leilah looked as if she wanted to ask more—Salim's lectures surely hadn't covered the Emperor's personal trials—but she held back, sensing perhaps that those stories were for another time.
Instead, she said softly, "The city is fortunate to have a ruler who cares about such things. Many kings wouldn't bother with sewers when there are wars to fight or palaces to build."
Arslan's gaze followed a flock of pigeons as they fluttered between minarets. "I've seen war and I've seen suffering. If conquering land and squabbling over titles is what makes one great, I want no part of it. I'd rather be remembered as the emperor who brought clean water and light to his people than one who added another province to an empire."
Leilah's eyes widened slightly, as if the notion was radical—and indeed, in this world of warrior-kings, it was. A silence fell, not awkward but contemplative.
Behind them, Magister Salim cleared his throat delicately, sensing perhaps the quiet accord between the younger pair. "Your Majesty, Lady Leilah—if we might resume? I believe we should draw up a schedule for implementation next."
Arslan turned back to the table, and Leilah followed, though not before Arslan caught a glimpse of a smile on her lips.
They worked another several hours, translating designs into actionable plans. By evening, they had a clear blueprint and a phased schedule: Day 1–2 to inscribe the main fountain and primary aqueduct segment; Day 3–4 for the secondary pipes in the bazaar; Day 5 for sewer line glyph placement; Day 6 for testing and calibration; Day 7 for the public unveiling.
"Ambitious," Salim murmured as they rolled up the final plans. "We'll be working day and night."
"I'll make sure we have ample hands and torches," Arslan said. "And coffee," he added, half-grinning. Coffee was a luxury but one he'd ensure the crew had plenty of to keep alert.
Salim departed to gather apprentices and supplies. The old mage bowed, perhaps a touch lower to Leilah than protocol strictly required—a sign of newfound respect—before he left.
Arslan offered to escort Leilah back to the harem wing or her quarters. She demurred. "If it pleases, I'd rather go to the site now—the Grand Cistern near the bazaar. I want to survey it before dawn so our etching plan matches the real conditions."
Arslan was impressed; she was as tireless as he in pursuit of the goal. "Then I'll come with you. It'll save time if adjustments are needed on the spot."
They informed the necessary guard, and under the gently purpling sky of dusk, Emperor and concubine-scholar slipped out of the palace and rode in a small carriage down to the bazaar district.
The city guards had been notified and a perimeter quietly set—Arslan wanted minimal fanfare at this stage. Work crews stood by with crates of tools and materials.
Leilah's eyes were full of wonder as she stepped out into the public square, now empty of the daytime throngs. She had rarely, if ever, walked freely in the city beyond palace walls. Now she strode at Arslan's side under the dimming light, past shuttered stalls and sleeping fountains, toward the grand public cistern.
The cistern in question lay beneath the square—a subterranean vault supported by ancient columns. By lamplight, Arslan and Leilah descended a set of stone steps into its cool depths. Soldiers and engineers followed at a respectful distance.
Their footsteps echoed on the damp stone. The cistern's arched ceiling glimmered with moisture. A pool of water about waist-deep covered the floor, fed by an old aqueduct channel on one side. The smell was musty but not foul—yet.
Arslan rolled up his sleeves, wading a few steps into the water. He shivered; it was cold. "This is where we'll inscribe the primary array," he said, his voice echoing. He pointed to the curved wall where the aqueduct emptied in. "From there along that wall, then through the distribution troughs that lead to the surface fountains."
Leilah stood at the water's edge, lamp held high, studying the stone surfaces. "The masonry is limestone. Good; relatively soft for carving." She stepped into the water without hesitation, hitching her gown up to her knees to keep it dry. Arslan suppressed a smile—she was far more practical than concerned with decorum at the moment.
They moved together along the wall, discussing where each rune would go. Leilah marked spots with a charcoal stick, numbering sequence for the engraving teams. Arslan noted a few hairline cracks in the stone. "We'll patch these first before etching, otherwise the acid might widen them."
A young engineer scribbled notes behind them, taking these orders down.
When they finished the survey, night had fully fallen above. The two emerged back into the square, lanterns swinging. The soldiers had lit braziers to provide warmth and light for the night's preparations.
Arslan realized with a start that he felt something he hadn't felt in a long while while within city walls: an excitement akin to that before a battle, but without dread. This was a battle of creation, not destruction, and it exhilarated him.
Leilah must have sensed his mood. As they stood by one of the dry fountains, checking a last detail, she said, "I never thought chiseling away slime and carving sewers would feel like a grand endeavor, but it does."
Arslan laughed gently. "It's grand because of what it means. The lives it will better. People may never know the intricacies of what we do down here, but when they drink pure water and walk cleaner streets, that's its own reward."
She regarded him admiringly. "You truly believe in this. In caring for them. You were right earlier—this will be your legacy, not conquest."
He grew thoughtful and a bit solemn. "I have blood on my hands, Leilah. From wars, from necessity perhaps, but blood nonetheless. If I can balance those scales by saving lives and improving them, maybe my soul will sleep easier."
Before Leilah could respond, a foreman approached to inform the Emperor that all was ready for the morning's work. Craftsmen with acid pots, runesmiths with gravers, laborers with scaffolding—all would report at first light.
Arslan nodded, dismissing him. He turned to Leilah. A stray lock of her dark hair had come loose from the braid, and without thinking, he reached to tuck it back behind her ear. "Hold still," he said, gently wiping the grey smear of limestone dust from her cheek with his thumb.
Leilah froze for a heartbeat, then gave an embarrassed laugh. "I must look a fright."
Arslan shook his head. "You look like someone working hard for a good cause." The smile he gave carried genuine admiration, causing Leilah to duck her head shyly as they walked toward a shade tent Soraya had erected for respite.
Outside Soraya's quarters (now adjacent to Arslan's), the group parted. Soraya kissed Arslan's cheek despite his grimy state. "Get some sleep, my love. You've earned it thrice over." She then turned and embraced Leilah without warning, pulling the younger woman into a warm hug. "And you, Leilah – you were magnificent."
Leilah, surprised but pleased, returned the hug. There were unshed tears of pride in her eyes. "Thank you… Soraya." She hesitated, then added with feeling, "I couldn't have imagined this a week ago. Any of it."
Soraya smiled knowingly. "The future is full of unimaginable things – until someone has the courage to make them reality." She gently squeezed Leilah's hands once and slipped into her chamber, leaving Leilah and Arslan in the corridor.
For a moment, they stood facing each other in the lamplit hush. Arslan noted a tiny cut on Leilah's chin (from when a shard flew during the kill-switch break). Without a word, he lifted his thumb to gently wipe a bit of dried blood from it. "I'll have the physician bring a salve for that."
Leilah felt her face heat, a flutter stirring in her chest at his touch. "It's nothing, Your Majesty. Hardly worth notice," she whispered.
Their eyes met – hers reflecting the golden light, filled with gratitude and a quiet wonder; his filled with admiration and a tenderness that was growing each day. In that charged silence, something shifted imperceptibly in their relationship – an added depth, a trust so strong it bordered on affection beyond duty.
"Still," Arslan said softly, letting his hand drop before propriety was overly tested, "you should take care of yourself. Good night, Leilah. And… thank you. For everything."
Leilah bowed her head. "Good night, Arslan," she replied, using his name in a soft, intimate tone that lingered in the air.
They parted ways to much-needed rest, the city around them already beginning to stir with the earliest rising bakers and fishermen, unaware that beneath their streets and in their fountains, a new dawn had already been engineered.
Tomorrow, that dawn would become visible to all.
Chapter 35: The Wellspring of Change
True to Arslan's orders, work began at first light. The bazaar's central square, normally bustling with merchants and shoppers, was cordoned off by imperial guards. Curious townsfolk peered from a distance or from upper windows as an unprecedented sight unfolded: the Emperor himself, clad in a simple workman's tunic with sleeves rolled, stood knee-deep in the public cistern directing engineers and runesmiths.
Leilah was nearby on a wooden scaffold erected against the cistern wall, her raven hair tied in a practical knot. She consulted a rolled blueprint, calling out measurements. "Etch the first bind-array here," she instructed, tapping the moist stone. "Three hand-spans tall, oriented due north-south along the wall grain. And mind the sequence—Flow rune first, then overlap Purify on my mark."
A master runesmith—an older man with arms corded from years of hammering steel—squinted at the young woman giving him orders. He hesitated until Arslan's clear voice echoed in the vault: "You heard Lady Leilah. Proceed carefully." The deference in the Emperor's tone toward a concubine was not lost on the guild artisans. They exchanged surprised glances but followed instructions diligently.
With a soft hiss and bubble, a journeyman applied the acid etchant along the charcoal outlines Leilah had drawn at dawn. Two apprentices fanned vigorously to disperse the sharp fumes as the mixture ate into the limestone, carving precise furrows. Once the initial bite was done, the runesmith stepped in with a dragon-bone graver, painstakingly cleaning and smoothing the lines.
Arslan moved along the wall, inspecting each emerging glyph. The Flow rune took shape as a curving symbol like a river's bend, and the Purify rune as a stylized sunburst overlapping it. Where they intersected, a fused motif glinted, already humming faintly with energy as the magic began to awaken from the touch of acid and intent.
So far, so good. Arslan felt a tension in his chest ease slightly. Weeks of planning were turning tangible. He looked over to see Magister Salim at the cistern's edge, monitoring the ambient ley-line readings with a small crystal meter. Salim gave a thumbs-up: the draw was within safe limits for a single array.
One by one, additional teams repeated the process down the length of the cistern and into the main channels. Each team had a copy of Leilah's blueprint and an assigned segment. Leilah herself moved between teams like a conductor among musicians, her quiet voice correcting a stroke here, adjusting an angle there to ensure uniformity.
Up above, on the streets, another crew was busy. Under Soraya's oversight, masons were lifting heavy circular marble tiles engraved with the Emperor's seal—these bore the kill-switch "Sever" glyphs that would sit flush in the pavement along the main pipeline route. Soraya stood amid a cluster of city officials, ensuring the placements matched the plan and that once installed, the street would be neatly restored around them. Ever diplomatic, she soothed a shopkeeper's concern about the disruption, promising that soon cleaner water would benefit his tea house and customers.
By midday, the first major section of the purification array was fully inscribed. Arslan called a temporary halt to let the stone rest and ensure the acid had fully neutralized. Laborers began mixing a slurry of powdered lodestone and crushed pearl—an expensive catalyst brew that would be brushed into the rune grooves to "charge" them permanently. Normally, such exotic materials would be costly, but the Emperor had cracked open a chest of war treasure to fund every aspect. Pearl dust that once might have been cosmetic luxury for a noble's wig was now being used to empower a public fountain—a symbolic shift if ever there was one.
As a brief lunch break was called, Arslan sloshed out of the cistern, legs aching pleasantly from the exertion. Leilah hopped down from her scaffold, wiping sweat from her brow with an ink-smudged sleeve. She had a streak of limestone dust across one cheek. Noticing it, Arslan reached out instinctively with a damp rag. "Hold still," he said, gently wiping the grey smear away.
Leilah froze for a heartbeat, then gave a embarrassed laugh. "I must look a fright."
Arslan shook his head. "You look like someone working hard for a good cause." The smile he gave carried genuine admiration, causing Leilah to duck her head shyly as they walked toward a shade tent Soraya had arranged for the crew.
Under the tent, Soraya had laid out bread, olives, and watered wine for the workers. She approached Arslan and Leilah, offering them cups. "You two make quite the team," she said warmly. She dabbed at Arslan's damp forehead with a kerchief, a wifely familiarity that raised no eyebrows now—everyone present had seen Soraya acting as the Emperor's aide throughout the morning.
"It's been a marvel to watch," Soraya continued. "People keep coming to me amazed that His Majesty and a harem lady are down in the muck doing the work themselves. I tell them this is what enlightened leadership looks like." Her eyes shone with pride.
Leilah blushed at the implied praise. "I simply follow the Emperor's lead," she demurred.
"Nonsense," Arslan objected. "You've been leading as much as I." He turned to Soraya. "Honestly, without Leilah's meticulous designs, we'd be lost in details."
Soraya beamed and squeezed Leilah's shoulder affectionately. "We always knew you had a brilliant mind, dear. Now the whole city shall know, in results if not by name."
Leilah looked between the Emperor and his consort, a soft smile on her face. She seemed on the verge of saying something, but a shout from the cistern interrupted: "Ready to mix the catalyst, Your Majesty!"
Duty called. The trio hastily finished their refreshment and returned to the site.
Workers armed with wide brushes carefully painted the lodestone-pearl slurry into each etched rune channel. As the mixture made contact, the runes began to glimmer with a subtle bluish light, drawing a collective murmur of awe from onlookers. The magic was waking fully now, attuned to the Earth's ley energy by the ferrous kiss of lodestone.
"Easy…" Arslan cautioned, holding up a hand. This stage was critical; uneven sealing could cause flux pockets.
Salim paced along the edge, monitoring his meter. "Flux levels rising… holding steady… Good. Good."
When the last stroke of the last rune was filled and glowing, Arslan let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. The initial enchantment was laid.
"Remove the channel stoppers!" he ordered. At the cistern's intake and outlet, laborers pulled aside temporary dams that had been diverting the water during engraving. With a gurgle and rush, water began to flow back into the newly inscribed section.
All eyes watched the dark, sediment-laden cistern water as it coursed over the glowing runes along the walls. For a moment, nothing dramatic occurred. Then, gradually, the murky hue began to clear. The water pooling out from the inscribed area sparkled faintly, as if infused with sunlight. Algae clinging to the cistern stones peeled away and dissolved.
One soldier near the edge exclaimed, "By the gods… it's clean!" He knelt down, scooping a handful of water and holding it up. Indeed, the water cupped in his palm was as transparent as glass.
Arslan felt a thrill. Still standing calf-deep in the cistern, he could see his boots now through the liquid, whereas before it had been opaque brown. A cheer went up from the workers and spectators who had crept nearer to witness. Some even started clapping, a few crying out blessings on the Emperor and the mysterious "water-maiden" who aided him (for Leilah's identity was unknown to them; some poetic soul thus dubbed her on the spot).
Leilah laughed in pure delight, unable to contain her excitement. She and Arslan exchanged a triumphant glance. In that moment, driven by shared achievement, Arslan impulsively caught her hand and gave it a quick squeeze under the water. It was a brief, almost subconscious gesture of congratulations. Both of them blushed—Arslan cleared his throat and released her fingers, and Leilah pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, looking away modestly. But the small intimacy was not lost on Soraya, who watched from the sidelines with a knowing, gentle smile.
Salim waved his meter, chuckling. "The array is stable! Textbook resonance levels." He hurried over to Arslan, nearly slipping on wet stone in his enthusiasm. "Your Majesty, I do believe you've done it."
"Not done," Arslan corrected, though his grin was broad. "This is one piece. We press on."
He immediately directed teams to continue inscribing further down the conduit leading from the cistern to the public fountain networks. Energized by the success, the artisans worked with renewed vigor through the afternoon.
As the sun began to dip, painting the sky orange, the essential water purification arrays were fully installed. They would need fine-tuning and overnight monitoring, but already the central cistern's output was flowing crystal-clear through the main fountain basins. Children from the neighborhood, allowed in at Soraya's invitation, gathered with wide eyes as Arslan personally turned the crank to start the great brass spout of the bazaar fountain. Instead of the usual trickle of questionable water, a surge of pristine water arced up and cascaded down. The children squealed with laughter, chasing the sparkling droplets.
Arslan stepped back, water splashing his boots, and laughed along with them. An elderly shopkeeper approached Soraya, tears in his eyes, praising the Emperor for "bringing back the pure springs of old." Soraya graciously accepted the thanks on Arslan's behalf, assuring the man that soon more fountains across the city would flow just as clear.
Meanwhile, Leilah was already discussing calibration with Salim and a flux-tender about adjusting the draw if heavy rainfall changed the flow, and instructing city water inspectors how to recognize the faint blue glow of a healthy rune versus a dimming one that might need recharging in a year or two. Her thoroughness impressed the practical city workers, who nodded and listened as if she were a seasoned civic engineer.
As dusk fell, torchlights and enchanted street-lamps flickered to life around the work zone. The day's tasks shifted focus from water to waste: the drainage improvement.
Along a particularly troublesome narrow lane that sloped toward the river, workers pried up flagstones to reveal a shallow, reeking sluice. It was a place that often flooded with sewage in heavy rain. Parissa, who had ventured out to observe and perhaps glean inspiration for her poem, wrinkled her nose dramatically from a safe distance atop a balcony, making a mental note to praise the Emperor's courage for facing even the foulest muck.
With less fanfare but equal determination, Arslan's team set to upgrading the sewer. Masons fitted new clay pipe segments to replace broken sections. Inside these, runesmiths etched directional arrows and gentle Pressure glyphs to help push waste along. To be cautious, they decided against any Decay runes here in the city, fearing any misfire might create toxic gas. Those would be reserved for the sealed cesspit outside the walls, where their effects could be monitored in isolation.
Kill-switch plaques were installed in the street at intervals, just as in the water system, to break the magical circuit if anything went dangerously amiss. Soraya ensured a city inspector was present to witness and sign off on every safety measure, so no bureaucrat could later claim the project bypassed regulations.
At one point, a minor incident occurred: as a runesmith inscribed a Pressure rune too deeply, a sudden spurt of filth burst from a side crack, spraying two laborers. There were gasps and a few laughs from onlookers. But before anyone panicked, one of the kill-switch plaques nearby flared and shattered – exactly as intended, it sacrificed itself to disrupt the localized surge. The burst stopped almost as soon as it had begun.
Arslan hurried over. "Is everyone all right?"
The spattered laborers were wide-eyed but unharmed, just in dire need of a wash. They nodded, shaken but okay. The failsafe had worked perfectly.
Leilah examined the broken kill-switch plaque, its rune now inert. "It triggered just in time," she reported.
Arslan placed a hand on the runesmith's shoulder – the man was mortified at his mistake. "This is why we build in safeguards. Better a bit of a mess now than an explosion. Let's replace the plaque and carry on."
No sabotage or serious mishap had occurred, just a reminder of why their meticulous planning mattered. Soraya took the opportunity to remark loudly (for any doubters in earshot), "Do you see? Even when something goes wrong, we have precautions. The Emperor's foresight ensures the city's safety." Nearby citizens who had crept in to watch nodded amongst themselves, impressed that a magical accident had been so contained.
By midnight, the new sewer line was completed and functioning. Water from communal bathhouses and household waste now flowed swiftly and cleanly (at least in relative terms) through the buried pipes toward a designated processing pool beyond the city gate.
Arslan insisted on taking a small crew out beyond the walls in the dark to check that end. In a marshy field lit by lanterns and will-o'-wisps of magical energy, they oversaw the activation of the final piece: the outlet purification.
There, a stone basin had been constructed to catch outflow. Runes for Purify and Contain ringed its rim, glowing softly. As effluent poured in, the runes flared, neutralizing stench and harmful elements. The water that overflowed into the marsh was nearly clean, and the remaining sludge in the basin was far less noxious – it could be collected later and carted off as fertilizer for distant fields.
One of Arslan's environmental inspectors – a man who had for years managed the dirty business of gong farmers (night soil collectors) – was astonished. "Your Majesty, if I hadn't seen it, I'd not believe it. The stink's gone!" He inhaled the night air over the settling pool. A slight earthy odor remained, but it no longer smelled like the pit of hell. "Saints alive… the mosquitoes will have to find another home."
Arslan clapped the man on the back. "We'll still need your gong farmers to haul that muck periodically, but it'll be safer work now. No more risking swamp fever knee-deep in cesspits."
The inspector grinned. "They'll sing your praises, Sire – albeit likely with some colorful language." He laughed, already imagining the uproarious relief of his crew at not wading through raw sewage every night.
It was a hard-won victory over entrenched filth and decay. Arslan felt exhaustion weigh on him; his muscles ached, and a bruise darkened on his arm where a pipe had slipped during installation. Yet his spirit was lighter than ever.
In the small hours of the morning, Arslan rode back into the palace compound atop a tired bay gelding, with Leilah and Soraya in a carriage behind and a handful of guards trailing. They were too weary for formalities. Arslan helped Leilah down from the carriage – she half-stumbled, and he caught her by the elbow. Both were spattered with dirt and in Soraya's case, a streak of flour (from an impromptu visit to a baker's basement drain). They looked less like royals and more like laborers at shift's end.
Rashid greeted them at a side entrance, eyes full of concern at their state until Soraya assured him the grime was of the victorious sort. Servants hurried to draw baths and prepare hot soup.
"You should rest well into the day, all of you," Rashid fussed. "I'll ensure no one disturbs your slumber. The city can wait a morning for its heroes to awaken."
Arslan gave the eunuch an appreciative nod. Indeed, tomorrow – rather, later today – they would have to finalize plans for the public demonstration and manage any political ripples. But for now, fatigue claimed them.
Outside Soraya's quarters (now adjacent to Arslan's), the group parted. Soraya kissed Arslan's cheek despite his grimy state. "Get some sleep, my love. You've earned it thrice over." She then turned and embraced Leilah without warning, pulling the younger woman into a warm hug. "And you, Leilah – you were magnificent."
Leilah, surprised but pleased, returned the hug. There were unshed tears of pride in her eyes. "Thank you… Soraya." She hesitated, then added with feeling, "I couldn't have imagined this a week ago. Any of it."
Soraya smiled knowingly. "The future is full of unimaginable things – until someone has the courage to make them reality." She gently squeezed Leilah's hands once and slipped into her chamber, leaving Leilah and Arslan in the corridor.
For a moment, they stood facing each other in the lamplit hush. Arslan noted a tiny cut on Leilah's chin (from when a shard flew during the kill-switch break). Without a word, he lifted his thumb to gently wipe a bit of dried blood from it. "I'll have the physician bring a salve for that."
Leilah felt her face heat, a flutter stirring in her chest at his touch. "It's nothing, Your Majesty. Hardly worth notice," she whispered.
Their eyes met – hers reflecting the golden light, filled with gratitude and a quiet wonder; his filled with admiration and a tenderness that was growing each day. In that charged silence, something shifted imperceptibly in their relationship – an added depth, a trust so strong it bordered on affection beyond duty.
"Still," Arslan said softly, letting his hand drop before propriety was overly tested, "you should take care of yourself. Good night, Leilah. And… thank you. For everything."
Leilah bowed her head. "Good night, Arslan," she replied, using his name in a soft, intimate tone that lingered in the air.
They parted ways to much-needed rest, the city around them already beginning to stir with the earliest rising bakers and fishermen, unaware that beneath their streets and in their fountains, a new dawn had already been engineered.
Tomorrow, that dawn would become visible to all.
Chapter 36: A New Dawn for the City
One week later, as the morning sun gilded the rooftops of the City of Light, an air of anticipation rippled through the capital. By imperial decree, work had ceased for a day of celebration. In the central bazaar square – now gleaming after a thorough cleaning – a platform had been erected near the grand fountain. Banners bearing the imperial lion fluttered from poles, and a festive awning shaded dignitaries assembling to witness what had been billed as a "public demonstration of arcane innovation."
Merchants, craftsmen, housewives, and children crowded around, kept at a respectful perimeter by cordial city guards. On every tongue was the same question: what marvel would the Emperor reveal? Rumors abounded – some said he'd discovered a spring of youth, others that he tamed a river dragon to purify the wells. More grounded whispers spoke of "rune-magic in the water" and improvements already noticed: less stench in the alleys, clearer water from some spigots. Optimism warred with incredulity.
At mid-morning, a fanfare of horns announced the Emperor's arrival. Arslan emerged not on a horse or in a sedan, but walking on foot with his sleeves rolled to the elbow, as if to emphasize he was a man of the people this day. The crowd cheered at the sight of him. To his right walked Soraya, radiant in a cobalt-blue dress with gold embroidery, and to his left, slightly behind, Leilah in a demure ivory gown, eyes bright but posture modest. A step further back trailed Minister Aru, Magister Salim, General Safid, and other high officials, along with Rashid and a few foreign envoys.
Soraya had deftly ensured that all factions were represented. Notably, at the forefront of the dignitaries was the High Priest of Al-Zahra, robed in white and green. Soraya had invited him personally to bless the proceedings, preempting any religious objections by involving him as a partner in this unveiling of "divinely inspired knowledge."
Also present was Lord Atash – the Qarthene ambassador who'd delivered the concubines months ago – watching with keen interest to see how his king's 'gifts' were faring. He certainly could not miss the prominence of Soraya at the Emperor's side, nor the unusual inclusion of Leilah on the Emperor's other flank. His face was a study in astonishment and grudging respect.
Atop the platform, Parissa stood ready in a flowing violet cloak, looking every bit the regal poetess. Darya sat to one side with her lyre cradled in her arms, hands trembling slightly with nerves. Nasrin, positioned near the envoys, quietly translated and explained for foreign guests what was happening, her diplomatic smile never faltering.
Arslan raised his hands for silence. The crowd fell expectantly quiet, broken only by the gurgle of the fountain beside him – its water already crystal clear and dancing.
"People of the City of Light," Arslan's strong voice rang out, "we stand today at the dawn of a new era for our beloved home. In recent days, you may have noticed changes – the water in your cups cleaner, the air in some streets sweeter. This is not sorcery meant to awe or oppress, but knowledge put to the service of all."
He gestured to the fountain behind him. "For generations, this fountain gave life to our market. In recent years, it ran slow and tainted. No more. By the grace of the Almighty and the wisdom of those who came before us, we have renewed it. Today, it flows with pure, wholesome water."
At a sign from Arslan, two palace servants brought forward a large glass carafe filled directly from the fountain. The water within was utterly transparent, glinting in the sunlight. There were gasps and applause from the crowd – many had never seen it so clear.
Arslan took the carafe and poured into a goblet. With all eyes on him, he drank a deep draught. Then he smiled broadly. "Cool and clean," he pronounced. To show his trust, he handed the cup to the High Priest.
The old priest – who had been skeptical privately – took the cup, murmured a quick prayer, and sipped. His eyes widened and he raised the cup skyward. "Praise be! The water is pure," he declared. "Truly, the Eternal Light has blessed this endeavor." He stepped forward and sprinkled a few drops in benediction, improvising a ceremonial air.
A roar of approval met this dual endorsement – Emperor and priest in accord.
Arslan continued, "How has this been achieved? Through diligence, learning, and the will to improve the lives of every citizen. Many hands joined together – the engineers of our guilds, the wisdom of our Magister Salim" – he inclined his head toward the mage – "and the dedication of some unlikely heroes. I must honor Lady Leilah bint Haroun..." He turned and beckoned Leilah forward.
Leilah started, eyes widening. She had not expected to be named publicly. With a gentle nudge from Soraya and Arslan's encouraging smile, she stepped up. The crowd saw a young woman, modest in stance, whom the Emperor regarded with respect.
"This lady," Arslan said, voice clear, "though not a minister or mage by title, lent her scholarly gifts to design the runic inscriptions purifying our waters. She toiled day and night for your well-being. Let all know that wisdom and brilliance may reside in any station – and when recognized, can serve the realm."
A moment of stunned silence, then a wave of cheers, especially from the women in the audience, rolled forth. "Blessings on the lady!" some called. Leilah flushed deeply but a smile of pride graced her lips. Lord Atash looked as though someone had knocked him with a feather; one of his 'gifted' concubines publicly credited as a hero of infrastructure was beyond his expectations.
Soraya stepped forward at this juncture to seamlessly take over the narrative, her voice carrying in that commanding-yet-warm way she had. "People of the City of Light, what His Majesty has done here is demonstrate that tradition and innovation can walk hand in hand. Our forefathers built great aqueducts – we honor them by renewing those aqueducts with the knowledge of runes our generation has mastered. The gods provided pure springs – we honor the gods by ensuring that purity reaches every citizen, rich or poor."
She turned slightly towards the priest and ministers as she spoke of gods and forefathers, framing the change as a continuation of revered traditions. Many in the conservative camp visibly relaxed at this positioning. A councilor who had been privately grumbling that magic meddling was unnatural now nodded along, soothed by Soraya's inclusive rhetoric.
Soraya's eyes swept the crowd and fell upon a cluster of skeptics she knew – a couple of guildmasters who had initially resented imperial interference. "When we began this project," she continued, "some were uncertain. Minister Aru, for instance—" she gestured graciously to Aru, "—wisely counseled caution to ensure safety. Thanks to such prudent voices, we took every measure to protect the city during this process. Now we see the benefits, achieved without harm."
Aru blinked at being praised; he bowed lightly, suddenly finding himself on the receiving end of some approving claps as Soraya maneuvered him into the role of responsible advisor rather than obstructionist. It left him no choice but to smile and accept this version of events, which salvaged his dignity and aligned him with success.
Soraya went on to highlight how guild stonemasons and runesmiths had been employed, reassuring everyone that this was a collective triumph, not just magic replacing men. She was tactful to name several artisans and laborers who had contributed, which lit up those individuals' faces and earned them cheers from neighbors.
Then came the artistic celebration: Parissa took center stage. With a theatrical sweep of her arm, the tall poetess projected her voice in a rousing ode she had composed for the occasion:
"O City of Light, rejoice this day,
Pure waters return to chase thirst away.
The Lion-Emperor, wise and bold,
Writes new in our annals, as in days of old.
With mage's art and a lover's care,
He tends to his people, our burdens to share.
No more shall our children gulp sickness at dawn,
The fountains run crystal from this day on!
O City of Light, sing out in pride,
In knowledge and justice, our Emperor's guide!"
Her poem skillfully interwove traditional imagery ("days of old") with praise for innovation ("mage's art and a lover's care" slyly acknowledging Soraya's influence as well). The crowd erupted in applause and shouts. Parissa bowed with a flourish, winking at Arslan as she stepped back. He gave her an approving nod and a subtle clap; he recognized the craft in her verse and how effectively it stirred hearts.
As Parissa's final line echoed, Darya struck up a lively melody on her lyre – a tune she had composed titled "The Lion's Fountain." It was bright and hopeful, and soon a few in the crowd started clapping in rhythm. Children danced around the fountain, their reflections rippling in the water as they laughed.
Arslan, standing at the center of this jubilant scene, felt a lump in his throat. This – this outpouring of genuine gratitude and joy – was unlike the strained, dutiful applause of some past court ceremony. He exchanged a glance with Soraya, who was misty-eyed and smiling. She slipped her hand into his, and he squeezed it in silent acknowledgment of all they had overcome to reach this day.
Leilah remained beside him as well, her expression one of wonder as she gazed at the cheering crowds. A small boy ran up holding a tin cup and boldly called, "Lady, will you taste the water with me?" Perhaps he thought Leilah some water spirit responsible for the miracle.
Leilah let out a surprised laugh. Arslan chuckled and urged her forward. She hopped down to the fountain's edge where the boy scooped a cup and offered it. Leilah drank with him, proclaiming dramatically, "Delicious!" The boy beamed, and nearby women laughed, delighted by this approachable learned lady.
Arslan descended the platform, Soraya on one arm, to mingle directly among the people by the fountain. This unscripted move made the guards tense, but he waved them off with a grin. Men and women pressed in, not too close out of respect, but enough to shout thanks and blessings.
A grey-haired baker bowed deeply. "Majesty, for years I boiled water to make it safe for my bread – now I'll save wood and effort. You've eased my work and my mind."
A mother with a babe on her hip wiped tears. "My daughter nearly died of the fever last summer. Clean water… you've likely saved her life, Emperor."
Arslan gently touched the baby's chubby cheek, feeling an overwhelming humility. "May she thrive in health," he said sincerely.
Minister Aru, feeling perhaps that he should be part of the magnanimity, stepped up and announced with a flourish, "Let it be known, the Emperor has also ordered grain from our reserves to be distributed for a celebratory bread for all citizens today – bread made with the first of this pure water!"
This had been an idea Soraya suggested to Aru privately: a free loaf for each family to literally taste the change. Now he presented it as his enthusiastic initiative, which was fine. The crowd cheered anew at the prospect of free bread, chanting "Long live Emperor Arslan!" and even a few "Bless Lady Soraya! Bless Lady Leilah!" – improbable praises for concubines, indicating how far perceptions had moved.
High Priest Basir took the moment to lead a short prayer, his voice a melodic chant that thanked the heavens for gifting the Emperor wisdom and compassion. He made sure to imply that the gods smiled on such endeavors, further quelling any remaining religious reservations. Soraya had indeed stage-managed every element to perfection.
As people began to disperse – some lining up happily for the promised free loaves, others simply eager to tell neighbors of what they'd witnessed – Arslan and his companions made their way back toward the palace. They moved slowly, almost in a happy daze, surrounded by a protective but celebratory phalanx of guards, while children ran alongside chanting "Lion! Lion!".
One urchin tugged on Leilah's sleeve and handed her a crudely made daisy crown. "For the water lady," he said bashfully. Leilah placed the flower crown on her head to the child's delight, which set Soraya and Arslan laughing gently.
Soraya slipped an arm around Leilah's waist as they walked, a gesture of sisterly pride. Over Leilah's shoulder, Soraya caught Arslan's eye and smiled deeply. He returned it with a look of profound gratitude and love.
In that moment, Arslan saw vividly that his rule was no longer just about him or surviving day to day as an outsider in a stolen throne. It had become a collective venture – he had partners in heart and mind, and through that, a genuine connection to his people. The transformation – of the city, of his leadership, and of the bonds that sustained him – was in full bloom.
And thus, under the midday sun of a city that truly gleamed, this chapter of Arslan's journey reached its end not with a bloody battle or a throne-room intrigue, but with a promise kept, a people inspired, and an Emperor who had discovered the true illumination of his reign: the light born from love, wisdom, and hope shared freely with all.