Once they spotted the Emperor heading toward them, the guards straightened immediately before announcing, "His Majesty, the Emperor of Revhara, has arrived."
The high priests rose from their seats, greeting the man.
"Take a seat," he ordered once he sat on his ornate chair, decorated with jewels. The armrests were made of pure gold, while the rest was gold-plated.
The priests abided by the command.
"Now then, what brings you here?" the Emperor asked. "None of you has ever decided to send a delegation during the past fifty years since the war."
Charles leaned forward, a practiced smile stretching across his wrinkled face.
"Your Majesty," he began smoothly, "it is precisely because of these past fifty years of peace that the temple grows concerned. We should maintain good faith with one another. And what better way to do so than by entrusting us with the orphaned children, so we can ensure their safety and give them a better life?"
The Emperor arched an eyebrow.
"We have already sent you countless children, have we not?"
Charles nodded.
"But children are constantly being orphaned, Your Imperial Majesty. Such tragedies are not limited to wartime. Parents show no concern for their own, leaving them behind for their sins."
Enzo almost frowned upon hearing that.
Sins?
The parents he must be speaking of were surely omegas—those upon whom alphas forced themselves, impregnating them and throwing them away like issued tissues.
"Well, the temple does take good care of the children there," the Emperor said at last, leaning back in his chair. "I’ve heard many are adopted into good homes as well."
Charles’s smile widened, the corners of his lips twitching with barely concealed triumph. "Your Majesty is most gracious to acknowledge our humble efforts. We only wish to serve the realm’s future generations."
Enzo’s stomach twisted. He kept his head bowed, fingers tightening around the fabric of his robes beneath the table. He wanted to speak—to warn the Emperor that those children weren’t being saved, but taken. But he couldn’t.
If the Emperor refused their request because of him, Charles would make his life a living nightmare, worse than it already was. The temple’s reach was long, its punishments cruel. He’d learned that the moment he stepped his feet in Hianshu. A land where omegas held no value, no honour, nothing but breeding machines.
The claims they spouted to Enzo’s father, convincing him that his son would be living a great life were nothing but lies.
Still, there was one thing he swore Charles would never get. No matter what the old viper promised, no matter what lies he spun, Enzo would not let him have Zayden’s death.
He lifted his gaze just slightly, watching the Emperor from beneath his lashes. If Charles dared to bring up Zayden’s name—if he even hinted at anything suspicious—Enzo was ready to intervene, consequences be damned.
Charles’s gaze flickered toward the Emperor, his tone softening into false concern.
"Ah, yes, Your Majesty... I have heard troubling news. They say Imperial General Zayden was attacked not long ago."
"You seem rather well-informed, High Priest," The Emperor’s expression didn’t change. His eyes, however, grew colder.
This damned!... Did he start spying on us the moment he arrived here?
Zaphyr clenched his fists, controlling his pheromones with all his might. He couldn’t show them any weakness.
"Who could have done that?" Charles exclaimed, pressing a hand dramatically to his chest. "Such an honourable man, serving the Empire with all his might—attacked like a common criminal. The audacity of it!"
His voice dripped with feigned outrage, yet the corners of his mouth quirked upward, betraying the satisfaction he could not quite hide.
Enzo’s heart sank. He knew that smile—he had seen it countless times before, whenever Charles’s schemes fell perfectly into place.
You planned it...
He thought, forcing his face to remain neutral.
You and Duke Danman.
Back in Hianshu, he had stumbled upon a letter Charles had forgotten to burn. It detailed the plan to attack Zayden the moment they arrived in Hianshu. And of course, all the evidence would point to a group of bandits.
The Emperor studied the High Priest for a moment.
"The General’s recovery is of no concern to you," he said firmly, his tone even and sharp. "He is alive. That should suffice. Right?"
"Of course, of course," Charles replied smoothly, bowing his head. "I only worry for the Empire’s finest, Your Majesty. After all, he is your second son after the Imperial Crown Prince."
Zaphyr didn’t say anything, smoothly changing the subject toward the reason behind their visit.
Enzo dared not look up. His nails dug into his palms beneath the table, his pulse almost echoing in his ears.
He wanted to shout the truth, to tell the Emperor that this man—this viper cloaked in holy robes—was the one who sent assassins after his son. But his voice would cost him his life.
Still...
If it ever came to choosing between silence and Zayden’s life, he already knew which one he’d break first.
The Emperor’s gaze settled on Charles with patient severity. "Speak plainly, then. What is it you require of the throne? I am certain you are not here to declare another war," he sneered.
Charles straightened, lips parting into that practiced mask of righteousness. If he could, he would have grabbed the very sword beside the Emperor and stabbed him until he begged for death.
But he couldn’t do that. He had to keep his composure and finalize the task entrusted to him.
"We ask only that the temple be entrusted with more wards—orphans discovered within the capital’s streets and the border provinces. Under our care, they will be guided in faith and duty."
"And in return?" the Emperor demanded, raising an eyebrow curiously.
Why was it that they always demandé children? It was the same after the war...
He shook the thoughts away.
I must be overthinking it. They have a good reputation with children.
Not everyone would lie about this after all.