“Chief,” Nia began, her tone crisp, “reports allege your Inquisition Tribunal oppressed civilians, deceived them with unreasonable and non-compliant contracts, and failed to uphold procedural justice in fulfillment. What is your defense?”

“Ah…?” The Tribunal Chief of Bati City stared, utterly dumbfounded, at Nia sipping tea calmly across the table, his eyes wide with confusion.

How could this esteemed Paladin from the Imperial Capital—so amicable just yesterday—arrive this morning and, before even settling in, unload a full list of accusations? As if here to interrogate him.

And she’d even brought an unrelated stranger of unknown origin.

He shot a suspicious glance at the armored figure beside Nia, arms crossed.

*What in the world is this…?*

But since the man came with Nia, he couldn’t afford offense.

He caught Nia’s precise wording: “defense,” not “opinion.” She already deemed him guilty.

*What’s happening…?*

“Your Excellency Nia,” the Chief said with a pained expression, “regarding these matters—I know nothing of them, truth or not.”

“If such incidents occurred without your knowledge, Chief,” Nia replied evenly, expression unchanged, “it suggests you’ve been sidelined.”

The Chief fell silent.

Sidelined or indifferent—both meant incompetence. If Nia whispered this to Her Majesty… would he keep his post?

“Please, Your Excellency, clarify what occurred.”

“The citizens expelled to the outskirts—surely the Chief hasn’t forgotten them?”

“Ah! You mean *that* incident. Their families suffered a strange illness. Our Tribunal, adhering to ‘help where we can,’ offered maximum assistance within capacity.”

“‘Assistance’ meaning conscripting the family’s breadwinners to war… while barely keeping patients alive?” Nia’s brow furrowed slightly; her voice sharpened with accusation.

“Your Excellency, we’ve exhausted all efforts—this illness defies cure. Preserving lives was all we could do,” the Chief explained with feigned innocence.

“Then why promise cures and sign contracts without that ability?”

“We acted in good faith! Contracts were voluntary—I swear upon the Dawnbreak Knight-Captain: no coercion occurred.” He pressed a hand to his chest, earnest.

“Tribunal statutes forbid ambiguous terms. Clear promises are mandatory,” Fate interjected calmly before Nia could speak.

“By all appearances, the Chief and his staff fell short.”

“Ah… you’re right, sir. Violates statutes. Tomorrow, I’ll dismiss the contract scribe.” He conceded only out of deference to Nia’s guest.

“…What?” Fate paused, then locked eyes with the Chief.

“You’re right. With Your Excellency Nia traveling so far amid such scandal… careless work warrants dismissal. Today. All clerks.” Under Fate’s unwavering gaze, pressure coiled in the Chief’s chest—though the man was just some unknown rustic.

“‘Careless’? Do you truly believe this is merely *carelessness*?”

“What would you call it?”

“I hesitate to say.” Fate shook his head. “Without backing or explicit permission… they wouldn’t dare violate statutes openly.”

“…Sir, what are you implying?” The Chief’s face tightened. “As Lady Nia’s guest, I honor your voice. But slander demands evidence.”

“No names were given,” Fate waved a hand. “Contracts must be honored. You may excuse other failures—but why, after three years, haven’t the bankrupt families relocated to the outskirts returned?”

“Sir, correction: their bankruptcy was self-inflicted. Chasing riches, they gambled away homes and wealth. Not our doing.” The Chief raised an eyebrow.

“Their kin likely earned military promotions—extended service! I tell the patients this. But poverty-blinded, they refuse belief. What can I do?”

“Monthly, we provide humanitarian aid. Yet they squander it—probably back at gambling dens…”

“Surely not *every* conscript earned promotion?” Fate pressed flatly.

“Who can say? Military affairs aren’t under my jurisdiction. Consult the knights overseeing the army.”

*Passing the buck already?*

“You claimed monthly aid and minimum living guarantees—food, shelter, clothing?”

“Correct.”

“Yet they never received it. Or if they did—merely a handful of walnuts and dates. A pittance.”

“Direct that query to the distribution department,” the Chief replied, patience fraying.

*Just diseased, bankrupt gamblers who sold their kin… why dig so deep?*

“Sir, you’re far too idle. Why defend these gamblers? Even generously—this plight is self-made. How is it my concern?”

Fate stood abruptly.

“You believe their suffering is entirely self-inflicted?”

The Chief shrank under the armored figure’s looming presence.

“What else could it be?”

“The desperate gamblers you describe vanished long ago. Those still in the outskirts? Innocent souls waiting day and night for loved ones. No addiction. No fault.”

Fate’s voice dropped, cold as steel.

“You held the knife. You forced them onto this path.”