Chương 189: 23. Mudslings and Accusations 2

His lips shook—not like a man preparing defense, but like someone at a cliff's edge discovering the ground beneath him was ice, and it had cracked some time ago. Even so, he wouldn't fall cleanly.

"Your Highness…" He forced steadiness, trying to climb back into a Governor's skin.

"I was not entirely without action. After cannon fire, I dispatched notification to the harbor commander—""Absolute horseshit." Not Ignicia. The harbor commander. He stepped forward, boot hitting wood with resonance through the table legs.

"You notified me?" His laugh was harder than cannonballs.

"Your people showed up half an hour later." Haerdin's face seized. I nearly applauded—not polished rhetoric, but the kind that lands straight on the nose. The commander wasn't finished.

"I heard guns and waited for you—the Governor—to give orders. Waited fifteen minutes. Nothing." He pointed at Haerdin like prodding a corpse that hadn't decided to lie down.

"I couldn't sit still. Sent my own man to the dragon tower." Half a beat of silence. Lei Lian spoke.

"I can confirm this." Clean as steel on steel.

"Tower waited for formal notification from port district. Governor's office produced none. When harbor commander's man arrived, I immediately dispatched dragon cavalry." She paused.

"To be precise: harbor commander's representative reached the tower before anyone from Governor's office." That sentence landed harder than shouting. Not emotion. Time. And time, when three people account for it independently and arrive at the same answer, becomes a noose. I watched Haerdin's face continue its steady drain. The picture was clear: Haerdin claimed he'd reported. Commander said he'd waited fifteen minutes, then acted alone. Lei Lian confirmed the tower saw the commander's man first.

Haerdin hadn't failed to hear. He'd heard and stalled. Deliberately. Long enough that everyone else ran out of patience. He knew it too. Which was why his next move made me curse internally. He didn't concede. He started biting.

"If the commander was so vigilant," Haerdin snapped, head jerking up like a cornered rat, "why not activate coastal defense directly? Military budget allocations, coastal rotations, patrol assignments—are you claiming no one under you has skimmed coins?" The commander's face went slate-flat. If Ignicia weren't here, furniture would be airborne. But Haerdin wasn't finished. Couldn't stop. Men like this, once they believe they're dying, don't think of repentance. They think: why should I be the only one?

"And the dragon tower!" He spun toward Lei Lian, eyes losing focus.

"You think you're clean? That sum sent weeks back—the King's commendation. Who signed? You put your seal on it!" The air changed. Even I froze. King's commendation? Lei Lian's expression completed its transition to something luminous and lethal—the specific killing intent of someone identifying exactly which filth was being flung at them. Haerdin read her silence as opportunity.

"Nothing to say?" He laughed—unpleasant, unhinged.

"Money sent under King's authority. Documentation, seals, signatures—all recorded. Pretending ignorance now?" I understood instantly. You miserable— Not a real commendation. Money he'd sent himself under false royal authority. Worse: he'd deliberately arranged signatures. Built paper trails. Slipped nooses around necks in advance so when his time came, he could yank the rope. This wasn't corruption. This was using state machinery—documentation, seals, the King's name—as personal blackmail.

I finally understood why Ignicia had skipped corrupt official and gone straight to traitor. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. This wasn't just stealing. This was the kind of rot that sold entire defensive lines. Lei Lian moved. Her draw was so fast I almost missed it. One moment still, the next cold light carving from her hip—carrying soldier's precision and the weight of someone who'd used blades in earnest—straight for Haerdin's throat.

"Shut your mouth." Cold as iron striking ice. Haerdin lurched backward, chair crashing over. I saw raw fear hit his eyes—not official pallor but animal panic when flesh recognizes approaching steel. The commander half-lunged forward, instinct pulling toward intervention. Marro whistled appreciatively. His crew extended necks another fraction. Absolute vultures. But at the precise moment blade would find throat—"Lei Lian." Two words. The air dropped. Lei Lian's sword stopped.

The tip hung a finger's width from Haerdin's neck. He froze completely, color evacuated, breath snagged before forcing out in ragged gasps. Ignicia walked forward slowly. She didn't look at the blade. Didn't look at Haerdin immediately. Those gold-red eyes moved from commander to Lei Lian, then settled on the collapsed man.

"I said," calm colder than the blade, "we are conducting an interrogation." She looked down.

"Not giving you opportunity to choose pallbearers." Just her name. But when it landed, invisible weight compressed the room. Lei Lian's blade stopped at Haerdin's throat without breaking skin. That sliver of cold light was sufficient—Haerdin's bones dissolved, collapsing beside overturned furniture, even his swallow suppressed halfway, terrified the motion might bring his neck against the edge. Lei Lian didn't turn. She held execution posture, hand simply frozen.

Not hesitation—because the person who'd told her to stop was Ignicia. More terrifying than the sword.

"Stand down," Ignicia said without inflection. Lei Lian held half a breath, then drew the blade aside. Flash of cold light, edge leaving Haerdin's neck. But he didn't exhale relief—instead lost the last force holding him together, slumping miserably, hand pressed to chest, gasping graceless gulps of air. Honestly, for one second, I almost felt sorry. Only one second. This was the man who'd just tried drowning Lei Lian under fabricated royal warrants while dragging the port's defense into mud.

If he wet himself from terror, I'd call it justice. Ignicia took two measured steps. Not fast—deliberately slow, each footfall trampling a human heart.

"I said," she looked down with spine-chilling calm, "we are holding an inquiry. Not letting you pick grave companions." Haerdin's mouth worked, assembling defense. Ignicia moved first.

"Excellent. Since you raised Lei Lian's name, let's address that." Tone shifting to courteous calm.

"Lord Haerdin. You claimed Lei Lian received a King's commendation through your office and signed personally. Correct?" Haerdin's eyes wobbled visibly. Earlier he'd thrown it in panic—now being interrogated specifically, it sat like hot coal in his throat.

"…Yes," he finally squeezed out. Lei Lian's temperature dropped another degree. The harbor commander sneered directly.

"Impressive, Governor." Staring at the floor's wreckage.

"King's rewards through your hands. Quite the jurisdiction." Haerdin's face twitched.

"Harbor administration, military procurement, transit logistics—temporary handling is standard—""Stop talking," Ignicia said. She turned to Lei Lian.

"Lei Lian."

"Present, Your Highness."

"Have you ever received direct royal commendation?"

"No." Clean as sword on stone. No hesitation. No qualification. No. I almost nodded. Exactly right. People with dirt produce sentences. Clean people produce words.

"Have you signed anything?" Lei Lian paused—not guilt, recollection.

"Yes. Two months ago, port administration forwarded a tower operational supplementary allocation—emergency provision for dragon feed, rigging, exterior repairs. Courier pressed for immediate receipt and signature." Haerdin's head snapped up like drowning man finding driftwood.

"You heard—she admits—""When I tell you to stop talking," Ignicia said without looking at him, "I mean until I address you. Not when you see gaps. Not when you think you've found something. Not at all." Marro made a suppressed laugh. His crew tried desperately keeping faces straight while eyes lit up. The atmosphere developed particular quality—like a garrote looped and tightened, waiting only for final pull. Everyone understood what was coming. Ignicia continued.

"That documentation—did it describe funds as royal commendation?"

"No," Lei Lian said. Haerdin's remaining color finished departing.

"It was designated port administration tower operational transfer," Lei Lian said, tone carrying deep water's temperature.

"I signed receipt for amount and line item. Not acknowledgment of royal favor." There it is. I understood completely. Not sophisticated scheme—something meaner. Most contemptible bureaucratic trap: send money through legitimate channels under operational names, force signature for institutional necessity. Then rename retroactively. Call it royal commendation. Produce signature as complicity evidence. Not corruption. Using state paperwork as weapon against those who served it.

I finally understood why Ignicia had skipped corrupt official and gone to traitor. This wasn't stealing. This was rot that would sell entire walls. Ignicia turned back to Haerdin. Gold-red eyes held no amusement now.

"Let us be precise, Lord Haerdin," unhurried.

"What Lei Lian signed was tower operational transfer receipt. Not royal commendation acknowledgment. Correct?" Haerdin's lips moved.

"But—that sum did pass through my hands—""Not what I asked." Her voice didn't rise. Everyone straightened slightly.

"Once more." She held his gaze.

"When Lei Lian signed, the designation she saw was tower operational supplementary transfer. Yes or no?" Haerdin said nothing. Not because he didn't want to—because he understood that answering would make certain things irrecoverable. The harbor commander supplied final precision.

"Think carefully. Sending funds under false royal authority is one count. Attempting to implicate Yinglong Guard's tower general by misrepresenting administrative transfer as corruption evidence—forcing her to carry your crimes—is another. Want to collect both at once, I won't stop you." The last left Haerdin's face. That official dignity—borrowed authority, bureaucratic armor, practiced omni-directional biting—cracked. Not all at once. The way things crack when underlying structure has been gone some time.

He looked at Ignicia. Then Lei Lian. Then his gaze found the blade that had recently been at his throat, and I watched his shoulder contract. This time, Ignicia didn't need to press. He showed retreat on his own.

"…Yes." His voice scraped like sandpaper dragged across raw wood.

"When General Lei signed, the designation she saw was indeed tower operational supplementary transfer." Lei Lian didn't move. But the killing cold in her eyes finally stopped pressing forward that last step. Ignicia wasn't finished with him yet.

"Say it completely," she said. Haerdin's breath hitched.

"General Lei…" His throat worked, each word carving another strip from his own flesh.

"General Lei had no knowledge at the time that it was something I would later… parade as a King's commendation." The room held complete silence for a full beat.