"Let it fall," he said. His voice didn't rise. It didn't need to. It came out flat, the kind of flat that carried more weight than shouting ever could.
"Better politics burn than cities. They can show me every ledger in clean light if they want their accounts back. If they can't, the money sleeps until it learns honesty."
His eyes shifted to the fourth aide. "Transfers," he said. "Triple clearance on anything that even brushes close to teleport lattices, anchors, or exam infrastructure.
If a signature shows up where no hand should be, it dies right there. By noon, I want the numbers and the reasons, but I don't need the names yet."
The fourth aide gave a short nod. "Understood."
He kept going, steady, piece after piece. Quiet watchers sent back to corners where the dust had been swept too carefully.
When Proctor rosters were checked against the extra verse of the anthem, only a handful of temples still remembered to sing.
