Chương 196: 26.Traitor 2

The people huddled in that corner didn't look at us like rescuers. They looked at us like the follow-up had arrived. The older clerk had his back pressed flat against the wall, both arms still raised in that unconscious gesture of shielding his chest. The young attendant had positioned himself at the front—legs shaking, but blocking the others anyway, on instinct.

The woman with the loose hair was trembling so finely she was practically vibrating, tears suppressed to near-silence, only the faintest hitching of breath escaping. And the middle-aged man with the bleeding arm— The moment he saw Ignicia, the color left his face in one complete motion. Understandable.

If I were a person who had been herded into an underground cellar while the building above burned, surrounded by heat and darkness, waiting to be suffocated or incinerated—and I looked up to see a red-eyed princess standing in firelight with flame coiling behind her like an honor guard, looking like she had walked out of the fire rather than through it— I would also seriously consider the possibility that I had already died and this was the intake officer for whatever came next.

"Don't—don't kill me—!" The maid finally forced out sound, voice scraped so raw it barely carried.

"I didn't see anything—I really didn't see anything—!"

"That sentence alone is already highly suspicious," I replied reflexively. Ignicia turned her head and looked at me.

"Are you reassuring her, or finishing her off?"

"…I was confirming she still has cognitive function."

"Terrible justification."

"Thank you. My lungs are currently medium-well and I don't have the bandwidth for conversational elegance right now." The corner of Ignicia's mouth moved—just barely, just once. Then she stepped forward. Firelight angled down from the stairway above, casting her shadow long across the stone floor. It fell over the survivors like a canopy.

"Listen," she said. Her voice wasn't loud, but it settled over the cellar's ragged breathing like a weight.

"If we came to finish you off, you'd have stopped needing to huddle like that some time ago." Blunt. Completely without comfort. And somehow, for exactly that reason, more convincing than anything gentle would have been. The older clerk swallowed hard—visibly hauling himself back from complete dissociation.

"Your—Your Highness…?"

"You still recognize who we are. Brain's functional." Ignicia said it without inflection.

"Then don't waste time. Whoever gives me clear information first earns the right to walk out of here." …That still sounded like a threat. But the efficiency was undeniable. The middle-aged man with the bleeding arm immediately struggled forward—too fast, caught his wound, and his face twisted with pain. I crouched and steadied him, pressing a fold of my cloak against the bleeding upper arm.

"Easy. Talking is enough. Who are you?"

"I—I'm the deputy warehouse clerk…" He coughed, breathing badly.

"Inner warehouse… deputy clerk…" Good. Someone who'd been close to the blue-sealed chest.

"Who moved the chest down here? Who locked you in? And who gave the orders?" I pushed immediately. His pupils contracted—as if just recalling it was enough to frighten him.

"It—it wasn't the Governor…" His voice shook. I looked at Ignicia. She looked at me. Not Haerdin. Not surprising. Still heavy.

"Name," Ignicia said. The deputy clerk flinched—instinctively pressing himself further behind the wine rack, as if saying the name aloud would let whoever owned it reach through the shadows. It was the older clerk who finally bit down and spoke.

"The head steward. Rodek." Silence fell in the cellar. Even I ran the name through my head once. Rodek. Not Haerdin. But clearly someone positioned well enough to have touched every door and lock in this building.

"He came in with the Governor's personal seal and written order," the deputy clerk continued, forcing the words out.

"Brought several men wearing staff livery. He said—the blue-sealed chest needed immediate transfer. And anyone who knew about it couldn't be left behind." The maid pressed both hands over her mouth. Tears came immediately.

"He told us—said the fire was too dangerous, he was taking us somewhere safe—" She was crying as she spoke.

"But halfway there, the quartermaster wouldn't give up the storehouse key, and they—they—" Her voice locked. I already understood.

"Cut his throat," I said quietly. She nodded violently, like she was trying to shake the image loose.

"The blood—it hit the wall—I saw it—" She was shaking harder now.

"And Rodek said—said once the fire came through, no one could tell the difference between burned to death and already dead…" Right. Not just arson. Not just silencing witnesses. He'd pre-solved the forensics problem too. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Thorough in the worst possible way. Ignicia's eyes went cold. Not surprise. More like: good, now there's a specific name to burn.

"Where is Rodek now?" she asked. This time the young attendant answered first, words tumbling out.

"He—he personally supervised the chest being brought down! But after we got to the cellar, he changed his story—said there were other ledgers that needed sealing too, told us all to come in—" The boy's voice shook.

"We knew something was wrong. The deputy clerk tried to back away, and his men drew blades—" The deputy clerk picked it up through clenched teeth.

"I took a cut. Played dead and rolled behind the wine rack." He forced himself forward.

"When the fire and smoke came down, they pulled out. Before Rodek left, I heard him say—" His throat seemed to catch. I leaned closer.

"What did he say?" The deputy clerk's face had gone grey, but he pushed each word out.

"He said—'If the Governor cracks at the scaffold, burn this clean too. The people above don't like loose ends.'" The air in the cellar dropped in temperature despite the heat. Not Haerdin. Not just Rodek. Rodek was executing orders. And the people above—that phrase was clear enough. Someone was behind him. Ignicia looked down at the deputy clerk.

"You're saying the direct order to silence everyone came from Rodek. Not the Governor." He nodded hard.

"Yes—him. The Governor took money, stamped documents, delayed things. But tonight's fire, tonight's killings, driving us into this cellar—every order came from Rodek." When that settled, I knew: this investigation had moved past who took the bribes and into who held the knife. The next person we needed had a name.

Ignicia didn't respond immediately. She lifted her gaze to the blue-sealed iron chest sitting in the center of the cellar floor. Half a person's height. Iron-reinforced at every corner. The wax seals had burned and curled, but royal stamp impressions still showed through. It sat there—the real bone someone had worked this entire fire to bury.

"Has Lei Lian's unit arrived?" she asked. Rapid footsteps and armor scraping came from above. Two Yinglong Guard came down first. Lei Lian followed. The moment she saw the chest, her expression settled.

"Found it."

"Open it," Ignicia said. Lei Lian paused.

"Your Highness, if this is a sealed royal document chest—""We know," Ignicia said evenly.

"Which is why I'm telling you to open it. Not enshrine it." Lei Lian crouched to examine the lock. Double-lock at the front—outer layer forced crudely, leaving fresh scratches. Inner lock still engaged.

"Someone opened it partway," I said quietly.

"Outer lock broken, inner intact," Lei Lian confirmed.

"Either ran out of time, or changed their minds." Ignicia stepped closer, looked once, then reached out. I saw her hand extend and immediately recalled red-hot iron, burning beams, fire-as-sauna—and wisely didn't ask if she planned to do this barehanded. She gripped the heat-scorched clasp like mildly inconvenient furniture and twisted. Metal shrieked. The lock deformed entirely.

I watched her breathing remain completely undisturbed and felt profound appreciation for how absurd my fire-ward talisman was by comparison. I was fighting smoke and heat for survival. She had moved on to arm-wrestling iron.

"What's that expression?" she asked without looking up.

"…The expression of a mortal receiving an education."

"You've learned a great deal today."

"At minimum, I now know fire dragons don't only breathe fire. They also pick locks." She made a short sound that wasn't quite dismissal, wasn't quite amusement. Lei Lian flipped the ruined clasp. Two Yinglong Guard lifted the lid. Scorched paper and iron-rust smell rolled out. Not gold. Not jewels. Oil-cloth wrapped bundles. Ledgers, documents, receipts, sealed scrolls. On top, iron stamp cases and three thick master accounts. Ignicia picked up the top black-covered ledger and opened it. I looked over her shoulder.

Dense columns—harbor revenue, warehouse transfers, vessel registration, supplementary expenditures. Routine administrative accounts at first glance. Look longer and deliberately vague line items surfaced.

"Border maritime trade stabilization payment…" I read aloud. Lei Lian's expression hardened.

"The official ledger name for the Yanxia Empire's 'tribute.'" Ignicia turned pages quickly. Then her fingers stopped. I followed her gaze. My heart lurched. A page missing from the middle. Not fallen out. Torn. Forcibly. The edge ragged, fibers curled from heat. Not old—ripped out tonight, possibly just before the fire. The preceding page's last lines had been building toward critical entries. —"maritime defense levy" reclassified under "tidal operations supplementary" —"blue-sealed" filed separately —"recipient…"

Then nothing. I stared at that torn edge, the burning in my throat intensifying. That specific page. The one that would have locked in names, figures, dates, destinations. Gone.

"Your Highness. Look at this." Lei Lian drew something from the chest's bottom. It looked like a thin booklet at first. Unfolded—a map. Drawn on thick vellum. Not an ordinary chart. Dense markings covered the surface: Dragon Kingdom coastal lanes, patrol routes, relay points, dragon tower positions with mutual support distances. Areas circled in colored ink, marking thin defenses, cut points, cascade failure zones. Three seconds of looking before my neck went cold. This wasn't a missing ledger page.

This was someone selling the Dragon Kingdom's entire coastal defense. The moment Ignicia saw the map, her expression changed. Not surprise. The cold of of course there was this too. She glanced at me. I understood immediately.

"Right." I raised both hands.

"Foreign envoy stepping back. I'll study that wall. Call me when you're done."

"Faster than usual," Ignicia said.

"I've had practice. Every time your expressions shift like that, I know I've reached the part I'm not supposed to see."

"You could stay."

"And pick up an espionage charge?" I grimaced.

"I'll pass." I retreated to a collapsed wine rack, crouched, picked up charred wood, and drew circles on the floor. I said I wasn't looking. Realistically, not looking would have been strange. Watching the three of them was interesting enough. Lei Lian: immaculate military posture. The I answer to the King and everything else can remove itself energy competed with the smoke. The harbor commander: actively producing his own smoke. Not fire-scene smoke—the kind from anger hot enough to ignite from the ears.

Ignicia: the quietest. Which was why I worried most about her. I was on my third circle when the harbor commander pushed words through his teeth.

"Traitors." Low. Compressed. Heavier than anything he'd said at the execution. Not anger. Sentencing. I looked up. Ignicia traced one finger along a sea lane. Lei Lian stood to her right, gaze cold enough to crack vellum. The commander had white knuckles at the map's corner.

"This isn't a standard patrol chart," he said, voice dangerous.

"Coverage gaps during handoffs. Dragon tower support radiuses. Internal bypass routes." He raised his head. Fury converting to killing intent.

"Not something Haerdin could read. Or obtain." Lei Lian spoke then. She glanced at me first: you retreated but your ears still work. I spread innocent hands. She said, flat and cold:"Haerdin sold Dragon Kingdom's coastal defense deployment to the Yanxia Empire. Including dragon tower numbers and positions." The charred stick snapped in my hand. …I'd suspected most of it. Hearing it said aloud still felt like cold seawater with ice mixed in.

"But—" The commander's face had gone iron-grey.

"A detailed deployment chart like this—I've never seen a complete version." I looked up. That was worse. He pointed at annotations, voice dropping.

"Every district commander only holds their sector's details. Outer harbor separate from inner navigation. How towers hand off, which lanes activate during failures—no single person sees the full picture." He stared at the map like noticing a blade at his neck.

"This isn't one leak." Silence. Even I stopped moving. Lei Lian finished it.

"Someone collected fragments. From multiple sources. Over time. And assembled them." Level voice throughout. Which was why it was so cold. Haerdin wasn't a lone rat. He was one piece of rotten meat. The real question: someone inside the Dragon Kingdom had been systematically collecting, collating, assembling information that was never supposed to exist in one place. I watched the three of them and arrived at one clear thought.

"Oh," I said. All three pairs of eyes moved to me. I held up the snapped stick.

"It seems what your nation's been hiding isn't a small player." I paused, looking at the map.

"It's a lot of holes." The harbor commander said nothing. But his expression wanted to replace holes with things that deserve hanging. Lei Lian added, cold and precise:"And more than one layer." Ignicia finally looked up. She rolled the map slowly—as if holding not parchment but a poisonous snake showing its tail, needing only to be pulled out completely. Then she looked at me.

"Cedric."

"Here."

"That observation was, unusually, not wrong." …Being acknowledged by her didn't make anything easier. But it was better than you're in the way. Ignicia handed the map to Lei Lian. Her eyes cooled steadily.

"Haerdin taking money—that's a crime."

"Selling the port—that's a crime."

"Selling coastal defense layout and dragon tower positions—" Her eyes narrowed.

"That's not something a single Governor could swallow alone." The cellar's heat hadn't changed. Still oppressive. But what made it hard to breathe had nothing to do with fire or smoke. It was the people behind that map. The ones we hadn't dragged into the light yet.