Chapter 14: Gabriel (1)

The office door closed, leaving the office in silence, interrupted only by the rustling of papers and the occasional imperial seal hitting the desk. Astana adjusted his glasses as he planned the Emperor's next week of hearings. He was still unsure of his role and contribution; the Emperor could do his job just fine without him. 

"Your Majesty, " he started before being cut by the man's cold voice. "Astana, as I have mentioned the first time you started here, you should address me by my name when there is no one here. There is no point in following protocol when we have so much to do."

"Well, Damian," Astana paused, tasting the name, "from what I see, there isn't much for me to do. I'm sure anyone can handle your documents to be analyzed and signed." He worked all his academy years to be ready to work and contribute to the country as much as he could. But his work as a secretary of the Emperor was nothing that he could imagine. Edward was taking care of most of the planning work, and the rest was being done by the Emperor, leaving him with mostly nothing to do. 

Damian rose from his desk, stretching his long legs. His secretary, Astana Blake, was a young man in his late twenties with honey curled hair, silver eyes, and a medium build. He was a beta, with hopes and dreams shaped by idealistic professors who lacked field experience. 

Damian gave the man a finger to make him feel more at ease around him, but Astana took his entire hand, crossing a fine line.

Was he disappointed in him? No. He barely had any expectations for the young man. His father was a good aide for Damian, but his son was clearly sheltered and ignorant to the world he was living in. 

"So, what can you do about this?" Damian asked, leaning his hip against the desk and crossing his arms across his large chest, towering over the secretary seated at a smaller desk nearby. 

Astana flinched. He crossed the line. He felt he had two options: retract his words and beg forgiveness, or continue to speak his mind. He looked up at the emperor's face. To be honest, even after a year of working with this man, he was still terrified of him. He never lashed at him or lost his calm, but that was even more scary than him expressing what was in his mind. 

He took a long breath before speaking, his hand clenching on the wooden desk. "You asked me what more I could do," he paused, putting his thoughts in order. "I believe I can do more than just move papers around. I can guide you through important decisions. But only if you let me."

Damian raised an eyebrow, and his lips curled into a faint, almost amused smile. "Oh, I see now. You want something more than this." He gestured lazily around the office, past the towering piles of papers and stacks of documents on his desk. His tone became increasingly mocking with each word. Damian started to laugh at him, the sound of his laughter filling the office. He wiped a tear from his eyes. 

"How charming. But, Astana," his voice lowered into a mocking drawl, "did you read any of those documents you have been not so eager to shuffle around? Or are you simply moving them from one pile to the next, pretending to be busy while I do the actual work?"

Astana was shocked by the accusation that he didn't do his job properly. After all the sleepless nights and overtime work... "Of course, I've read them..."

Damian interrupted with another laugh, a cold, knowing sound. "Really? The budgets, the projections, the foreign treaties? Or are you simply pretending to know the difference between those that require a signature and those that do not?"

Astana opened his mouth to argue but found no words. He didn't have anything to say in his defense. The Emperor's eyes gleamed, his amusement clear. Damian was launching attack after attack, thoroughly enjoying his mokery. 

"Don't look so defensive," Damian said with a smirk, as if he enjoyed watching the young man squirm. "You've had a year now, haven't you? A whole year. What have you learned in all that time besides how to file papers and follow my orders?"

He walked slowly around the desk, keeping his gaze fixed on Astana's face. The secretary could feel terror building up in his chest. He only now understood why Damian was chosen to be Emperor, and why his father followed him.

He was a monster, and there was no reason for him to use his pheromones to dominate those around him. His gase and words were more than enough. 

"You wanted more, right? You wanted to contribute. So, why didn't you take it? You have been standing there all this time, waiting for me to give you something worthy of your abilities. Yet, here you are, still moving papers."

Damian's voice lowered slightly, teasing now, sharp as a knife. "You could have taken more. You could have spoken up, learned the ropes, and gone further than this little secretary position you're so disillusioned with. But you didn't. Why? Were you waiting for me to spoon-feed you the opportunities you clearly crave?"

Astana clenched his fists under the desk. He could feel the weight of the words, and yet he couldn't let this man tarnish his hard work like this. 

Damian stopped in front of his desk and sat on it, leaning in just enough to make him uncomfortable, before smirking again. "If you're so capable, Astana, why didn't you take it? You've had every chance, every opportunity. It's not like I took any of the work you wanted to do. Honestly, Edward and I would be more than relieved if you took anything important from the schedule." 

Astana exhaled sharply, words building up in his chest, ready to challenge him. But Damian was already turning away, as if there was nothing more to say. 

"You'll find your way, eventually. It only depends on you. Now if you are finished with your whining, bring me the report on Gabriel. I asked for it to be ready by evening, and it's not there. "

Astana rose from his desk to carry out the order; against his better judgment, he provoked the Emperor once more. "You never see the work your men are putting in for you."