Chapter 174 174: The Orphans
Iron Fortress.
Hans sat up in bed for what felt like the hundredth time that night. Outside, the sun was still hidden beneath the horizon, and the "Evernight Lights" cast a soft, ethereal amber glow over the empty streets.
He massaged his throbbing temples, his gaze landing on the thick dossier sitting on his desk. It was a preliminary census conducted by the Sunflower Merchant Guild: The Evernight Imperial Orphan Report.
Rows upon rows of names. One thousand, three hundred and seventy-two in total. Beside each name were columns for age, gender, and the date of their parents' passing.
Hans picked up the document, flipping to the first page.
Mia. Age: 7. Father killed in action during the Crusade.
He knew that name. She was the little girl who had wept until her voice failed in the cathedral.
Hans continued to flip through the pages.
Thomas. Age: 5.
Emily. Age: 9.
Anton. Age: 3...
Hans's hand stopped.
Three years old.
At that age, a child likely wouldn't even remember the shape of their parents' faces.
He set the report down, stood up, and walked to the window, pushing it open. The biting morning wind rushed in, chilling his skin and clearing the fog from his mind. Below, a few early-rising vendors were setting up their stalls, and a Skeleton Patrol marched past in perfect, mechanical synchronization.
Everything appeared to be improving. The Empire was expanding, wealth was circulating, and order was being established. But what about those thirteen hundred children?
Under the current decree, they each received a monthly stipend of ten silver coins. They had access to the Academy. they were fed and clothed.
But so what?
Hans turned, looking through the doorway toward the neighboring room. That was where the children of Sunflower House slept. Lily, Miguel, and the other four. They were currently lost in deep, peaceful slumbers—because they knew Hans was right there.
"I was just like them," Hans whispered to the empty room.
He remembered being seven years old in a filthy alleyway in Leaf City. He remembered the backs of his parents as they walked away, never once looking back. No one had handed him a copper. No one had asked if he was cold or hungry.
He had fought mangy stray dogs for scraps of moldy bread in refuse piles. He had spent winter nights shivering beneath eaves, his teeth rattling so hard he thought they'd shatter. He'd been beaten by older street urchins who stole the half-copper he'd spent all day begging for.
Later, Hans learned how to lie. He learned to distinguish which pockets were easiest to pick. He learned how to find the tiny, desperate cracks of survival amidst the glares and curses of the world. Those memories—the nights spent staring at the dark until dawn, the soul-crushing weight of being abandoned by the entire world...
Hans squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head violently. He refused to let those thirteen hundred children taste that same bitterness.
"Ten silver coins... is it enough?"
Hans opened a drawer and pulled out a ledger. He began to calculate with frantic speed. A child's basic monthly overhead: three silvers for food, one for clothing, two for lodging, and one for miscellaneous needs.
Seven silver coins.
Theoretically, the ten-silver stipend was sufficient. But that only bought "existence."
No one would be there to pat their backs when they woke up screaming from a nightmare. No one would stand up for them when they were bullied by the older kids. No one would teach them how to turn coin into nourishment, or how to spot a merchant's lie.
No one would teach them how to be human.
Hans closed the ledger. He remembered the day Lily first arrived at Sunflower House. A gaunt, tiny girl huddled in the corner, clutching a tattered stuffed bear with more patches than fur. Her eyes were terrifyingly hollow. She wouldn't speak. She wouldn't eat. She just stared at the door, waiting for someone who was never coming back.
Hans had knelt before her, offering a piece of freshly baked apple pie. "Hungry? Have a bite."
Lily hadn't moved.
"My name is Hans. This is your home now."
Still, silence.
Hans hadn't rushed her. He stayed in that crouch for an hour, the warm scent of the pie lingering between them. "There are other kids here. They're just like you. No mamas or papas. But they have me."
Lily's lashes had fluttered. She finally looked up, a microscopic spark appearing in her vacant eyes. "You... you won't leave?" Her voice was a tiny rasp, smaller than a kitten's mew.
Hans had shaken his head. "Never."
"Liar," Lily had whispered, biting her cracked lip. "All the grown-ups leave in the end."
Hans hadn't argued. He simply extended his pinky finger. "Then let's make it official. A pinky-swear."
Lily had stared at his finger, then at his face. After a long, agonizing silence, she reached out her own fragile hand and hooked her finger around his.
"Pinky-swear, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye... a hundred years, never change."
That was the first time Hans had ever made a solemn vow to another person. Now, he wanted to make that vow thirteen hundred more times.
Hans grabbed his coat and marched out the door. The sun was just beginning to bleed over the horizon. He walked with a determined stride through the quiet streets, heading straight for the Lord's Mansion.
The Skeleton Knights at the gate recognized him and stepped aside. Hans charged through the corridors and burst into Greed's office. He didn't wait for an invitation.
Greed was sitting behind his desk, methodically reviewing a stack of reports. He looked up, his crimson eyes meeting Hans's gaze with a calm, analytical stillness.
"You're early."
Hans walked to the desk and slammed the orphan census down onto the wood. "My Lord, I wish to establish an orphanage. No—I wish to establish many orphanages."
Greed's gaze traveled from Hans's face to the report, then back again. "Is Sunflower House insufficient?"
"It is," Hans said, shaking his head. "Sunflower House can only house twenty. There are over thirteen hundred children on this list."
"The Empire has provided them with death benefits," Greed's voice was a flat monotone. "We have granted them the right to free education and all the basic social subsidies of a Citizen until they reach maturity. By the standards of any kingdom on this continent, their welfare is unparalleled."
"But it isn't enough!" Hans's voice rose, cracking with emotion. "My Lord, have you looked at them?! They take their ten silvers and sit in empty rooms! They go to the Academy and the Cathedral and perform their duties, and then what? They go back to a home where no one is waiting!"
"They will grow up. They will become Citizens. They will work and pay taxes. But they will never be happy." Hans's fist tightened. "I have seen too many children like that. They become cold. They become selfish. They learn to trust only themselves because no one ever taught them the meaning of warmth or trust."
Greed didn't interrupt. He listened in a heavy silence. "And how do you intend to rectify this?"
Hans took a breath. "I am applying for a mandate to establish 'Sunflower Houses' in every city in the Empire, each capable of housing a hundred and fifty children. I will find people to care for them—to teach them, to guide them, and to watch them grow. Just like we do at the original house."
Greed leaned back into his velvet chair, his fingers tapping a rhythmic pattern on the desk. "The cost?"
Hans had run the numbers a thousand times on the way over. "Construction: Five hundred gold crowns per site. Operational overhead: Ten adults per house at five silver a month—that's six gold a year per person. Add in food, medical, and educational supplies..." Hans paused, stating the final figure. "For the first year of the rollout... I require at least twenty thousand gold crowns."
Silence reclaimed the office, save for the rhythmic tapping of Greed's fingers.
"Twenty thousand gold crowns," Greed mused. "Hans, do you comprehend the magnitude of that sum? It is equivalent to three entire months of the capital's total tax revenue."
"I do," Hans said, stepping closer and leaning over the desk. "But it is an investment."
"An investment?" Greed stood up, slowly walking around the desk to loom over Hans. An invisible pressure radiated from the vampire. "Explain to me... why this has value."
Hans met Greed's crimson gaze without flinching. "Because these children are the future of the Empire. Not just as soldiers or labor. If we abandon them now, in twenty years the Empire will be populated by a thousand more people like me. People who lie. People who scheme. People who will use any means—no matter how vile—to survive."
"One Hans is a useful tool for the Empire. But a thousand Hans's, My Lord? That would be a catastrophe.
"But if we claim them now... if we give them a home and a light to follow? In twenty years, the Empire will have a thousand citizens who truly believe in the Master. People who will give their lives for the state because the state gave them a reason to live."
Hans's voice was steady and filled with a desperate conviction. "My Lord, I am not asking for a 'charitable donation.' I am proposing the most profitable long-term investment in the history of this continent."
Greed stared at Hans for a long, unblinking minute. Then, he turned and retrieved a blank parchment from his drawer. He scrawled several lines in a sharp, elegant script and slammed the Lord's Seal onto the bottom.
"Go to the Treasury," Greed said, sliding the parchment toward Hans. "Five thousand gold crowns. That is the extent of the Empire's direct subsidy. The remaining fifteen thousand? Find a way yourself."
Hans froze. He hadn't expected such a direct approval, nor had he expected the Empire to foot a quarter of the bill. He had been prepared to liquidate his entire personal savings for this.
"My Lord... I..."
"Do not disappoint me, Hans," Greed said. "Sunflower House was a success. I expect the others to be identical."
Hans took the decree and bowed so deep his forehead nearly touched the floor. "I shall not fail you!"
As Hans turned to leave, Greed's voice called him back. "Hans."
"Yes?"
"You said you didn't want a thousand more people like yourself in the Empire." Greed sat back down, interlacing his fingers. "But from where I sit... it is exactly people like you that this Empire needs more of."
Hans paused, a genuine, startled smile touching his face. "I'll do my best to make sure they're all a little bit better than me, then."
Hans stepped out of the mansion. The sun was fully up now, its golden light warm against his face. He held the parchment up, looking at it against the sky.
Five thousand gold from the state. A fifteen-thousand-gold deficit.
"Perfect," Hans whispered. He began to run toward the Sunflower House, his pace quickening with every step.
When he burst through his front door, the children were gathered around the table eating breakfast. Miguel had made oat-porridge and slightly burnt toast. Lily spotted him first, hopping off her chair like a bird and diving into his arms.
"Hans-nii! Where did you go so early?!"
Hans scooped her up, planting a kiss on her cheek. "I went to find you some new brothers and sisters, Lily."
He laughed, ruffling her hair. "Lots and lots of brothers and sisters."
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