[The Immortal Emperor: Orphanage of the Damned] Chapter 30

Chapter 30

The audience chamber in Aurion’s government hall was steeped in silent respect as the emperor sat, straight-backed and unmoving as petitioners filed in and out. Each citizen approached with a mixture of reverence and despair, here, the monster of their childhood stories sat in judgment over them. However, the human known as the Immortal Emperor appeared to be just and fair, no matter the race or background. This brought an ever-increasing number of petitioners daily.

The last man knelt before him. Hat in hands, as he spoke in a quiet, trembling voice. “The food stores are dwindling. We have not received any trade in weeks. Not since the king discovered you now rule this city. I fear what may happen during winter.”

In a soft, gentle voice, the emperor said, “Arise, be at peace. I have kept a close eye on our provisions, and I fear for our people much as you do. Please know that I have already taken matters into my hands to provide for the city throughout the cold months.”

The man stood, soothed by the emperor’s calm manner. “Thank you, my lord. I—I wasn’t sure how you’d take the news. The old lord would have ignored me or scoffed me off, saying as long as he had plenty, he didn’t care.”

The emperor carefully stepped from his throne to stand before the man. “I thank you for your service and diligence. Please, follow the rationing plan that has been laid out, for now, that is the best we can do.”

The man left with a broad smile on his face. Feeling the human, one amongst their most hated enemies, cared more for him than his own people did. As he left the room, he passed the entirety of the group of humans that had broken free from the orphanage. His heart leaped into his throat, though, he felt more easy in their presence than he ever had before.

As the humans entered the audience chamber, the emperor put on a soft, sad smile. “Greetings, my children.”

Ethan and Sasha were the first to enter, they strode together, close enough that their arms brushed as they walked. Behind them, the rest of the orphanage humans filed in. A soft, excitable chatter amongst them.

The emperor’s demeanor softened noticeably as his gaze fell upon them. "Our city swells with new lives, and with them, an ever-growing list of needs," he began, his voice echoing slightly in the high-ceilinged room. "If we delay our strike until after the winter, our people may be too weakened from scarcity to fight effectively. We must move soon, while the disarray from our last victory still hampers the king’s forces."

A ripple of excitement passed through the group; fists were pumped, and spirited whoops filled the chamber, momentarily lifting the heavy atmosphere. Yet, as Sasha's expression clouded with concern, the emperor’s smile waned. Her intuitive gaze pierced through his façade.

"What troubles you, my emperor?" she asked, her voice a soft contrast to the boisterous energy of her companions.

He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, meeting her earnest gaze before sweeping his eyes over the assembled group. "Across this continent, I have found no others of your kind. It appears you are the last of the humans."

A stunned silence followed, broken only by the shifting of uneasy feet and the low murmur of disbelief that began to spread through the room.

"The gravity of our situation is profound," the emperor continued, his voice now a grave murmur. "Genocide, driven by fear, is a curse upon our world. It is why none of you shall join the coming battle."

Adam’s voice cut sharply through the tension. "What do you mean? We're not to fight in our own war? We won't cower while you fight our battles!"

His protest sparked a chorus of agreement, the chamber quickly becoming a cacophony of dissent.

"Enough!" The emperor’s command boomed, resonant and commanding. The authority that swelled in his tone seemed to expand his very presence, silencing the room instantaneously. "You are the last of your kind—this is a truth you must accept. Your safety is paramount. The war you fought and consequently were trapped after, is long past. Few remember it, none have lived it. The animosity and hate from your enemies may never dissipate in your lifetimes. This fight will never end for you. You must survive. You must think to the future, not the past. Use your actions and lives to proclaim why humans have a right to live in this world with all the others. Think of a new beginning, rather than past hatreds.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of his words settling over them like a shroud.

"As for me," the emperor’s voice softened, tinged with a rare vulnerability, "this year has revealed much about myself. I’ve learned that my immortality, once a cloak of invincibility, is now interwoven with vulnerabilities—my concern for you, my people."

He looked at each face, his gaze lingering with a paternal fondness that seemed to bridge the distance between ruler and subject. "You are not just survivors or warriors; you are the beacons of humanity’s future. Live for more than just vengeance; build lives worthy of your survival."

The resolve in his voice, tempered with an undeniable affection, slowly quelled their unrest. As the group processed his words. Still, a few began to mumble their dissatisfaction, but as a whole, their will to fight slowly ebbed.

Adam, his features hardened by countless battles, both remembered and lived, finally nodded, his acceptance quiet but resolute. "Very well, we will trust in your wisdom, but not without keeping our spirits ready for whatever may come."

The emperor’s slight nod acknowledged this compromise, a silent agreement that while the immediate path was set, the future still held room for their courage.