Chapter 319 Questioning

Cassius II felt a headache the moment he opened his mouth. He hadn't had much actual contact with this young man, but over the past two years, the queen had mentioned his name with increasing frequency.

The name "ghost" means trouble.

It meant a group of daring rebels, a cold fog hovering over the royal family, an arrow that shattered the empire's glorious illusion, and a hand that intended to pull him out of his sweet and luxurious dream and slap him in the face.

"What do you want to say?" asked the king dissatisfiedly.

"Mr. Bateman's report was indeed very detailed," the young man said, his voice flat and lacking inflection, which made it seem more credible. "I respect his feat of wasting three hours on this, but at the same time, he chose to avoid the important issues."

Marquis Bateman, who always spoke to the ghost in a sarcastic tone, glared at the ghost. From a perspective that others could not see, a complicated look flashed in his eyes.

"Mr. Bateman claims the Empire's fiscal deficit is widening year by year. The only solutions to this problem are to increase revenue and reduce expenditure," the ghost said coldly. "Since you mentioned that the Empire's financial expenditures have increased significantly due to natural disasters, war, and the economic downturn—then let me ask, of the funds allocated for 'relief' for the cold snap, how many copper coins actually reached the victims? And how many grains of 'relief grain' from the Empire were found in the stomachs of those who died of starvation and cold?"

"Don't bother with that, Your Excellency," Bateman retorted sarcastically. "Disaster relief is a matter of great importance. How can it be addressed simply by the nagging complaints of those country fools around you?"

He leaned slightly toward the King and Queen, appearing professional and elegant, with an air of pride that disdained to argue with outsiders. "The Empire has its own comprehensive response protocols. Post-disaster relief and the distribution of funds and rations must be rigorously reviewed and conducted in accordance with regulations to minimize omissions. Once all accounts are sorted out, we will naturally present a satisfactory response to your Majesties."

The ghost's face remained expressionless.

"I understand. Mr. Batman is very busy, and the Finance Department has a wide scope of jurisdiction and heavy responsibilities. It is understandable that the efficiency is a little slow." He nodded lightly, but Batman suddenly felt his heart tighten.

"It's a shame those starving people lying on the roadside couldn't wait for your 'charter,'" the black-haired young man said calmly. "So the Third Council boldly stepped in and conducted some... 'minor' investigations in Batalia Highlands, one of the hardest-hit areas."

"Fina." The ghost ignored Batman's unpleasant expression and turned to look at the girl beside him: "Please briefly introduce the information you have obtained to the gentlemen present here."

The girl in pants stood up immediately. She was a little nervous, but under the calm and powerful gaze of Mr. Ghost's smoky gray eyes, she gradually calmed down.

"Wait, a woman?" But before she could open her mouth, someone immediately questioned her, "Mr. Nova, you are being too frivolous. How can you allow a woman to speak so freely in such a solemn meeting?!"

The questioning voice came from a gray-haired old nobleman, who scanned the girl's face, which was slightly flushed with shame and anger, with a look of surprise, contempt, and disdain. Fina clenched her fists and glared back—she couldn't swear, she gritted her teeth and muttered to herself, she couldn't embarrass Mr. Ghost.

"None of your business." The professor said coldly.

Of course, it was because he had painstakingly cultivated this girl, and he knew her inside and out. Young people needed more experience, and they were rare political talents, so he was happy to bring them out to see the world. Who wanted this old man who deserved to roll into the coffin to meddle in his affairs?

The old nobleman was obviously stunned by his unprecedented and concise rudeness. He stared blankly for a long time. When he came to his senses, he was so angry that his face turned red and his neck became thick. He pointed at the ghost and kept saying "you, you" for a long time, like he had Parkinson's disease, and couldn't say a word clearly.

The corners of Esmerel's mouth couldn't help but rise slightly for a moment, but he quickly returned to seriousness.

"Don't talk nonsense," she interrupted lazily.

Since Her Majesty the Queen had spoken, the old nobleman had no choice but to shut up indignantly. "Slut," he mouthed silently to Fina. Seeing this, Fina was instantly furious, and her last bit of nervousness disappeared completely.

"Your Majesty, Your Majesty, and all the Excellencies present here," the young woman produced pages of neatly written paper, her clear, bright voice echoing clearly throughout the hall. "Based on field visits by the People's Party and members of the Third Council to the seven hardest-hit villages in the Batalha Highlands, oral accounts from survivors, and some original documents and copies of private accounts obtained from local granary managers, transport team drivers, and certain low-level officials with 'remaining consciences,' we have compiled the following preliminary information—"

It's really shocking.

The relief grain shipped from the central granary was lost by nearly 20% just by passing through the first parish. By the time it reached the disaster area, only one-tenth of the original grain remained, and much of it was stale, moldy grain, even mixed with large amounts of sand, stones, and chaff. The distribution of relief funds was even more chaotic. In just one visit, 92% of the victims had not seen a single copper coin. The few who received relief funds were only close associates of local officials or those willing to pay bribes.

As the girl spoke, the expressions of some clergy and priests gradually grew solemn. Generally speaking, in order to promote faith, religious forces also participated in disaster relief, sometimes even being more reliable than local officials.

"Your Majesty, I've seen too many tragic scenes along the way." The girl's voice trembled slightly, even tinged with sorrowful sobs. "The corpses of children who died of starvation always had bulging stomachs filled with bark, dirt, and stones. Newborn babies were thrown to death by their desperate families because their mothers had no milk or rice soup to feed them..."

Cunning ghost, Duke Kamu, who was originally sipping tea leisurely, put down his teacup at some point with a slightly cold expression.

Women and children, especially children, are always the easiest to arouse the sympathy for their fellow human beings deep in their hearts. Sometimes the crying of a seemingly inexperienced girl is even much more powerful and shocking than the roar of an adult man.

Some of the lower-level clergy and minor nobles present had already shown a hint of pity on their faces.

Batman's face turned ugly. "Miss, how can you prove that what you said is not a lie or perjury?"

"If you need evidence, I can provide some named testimonies from local farmers, the village chief, and even a former sheriff. They're willing to vouch for what I'm saying with their reputations and lives." Fina retorted, "But how can you prove I'm not telling the truth?"

"Mr. Bateman, Mr. Nova, Miss Fina, please excuse my interruption." Someone who surprised Count Bateman suddenly interrupted the tense situation between them. Cardinal Pavaton Miller of the Glorious Church slowly stood up.

"Our God's light shines upon all living beings, illuminating all suffering and disasters in the world. His Holiness the Pope has long been deeply saddened by the plight of the disaster-stricken areas, praying day and night and repeatedly commanding dioceses to provide assistance." The Cardinal shook his head slightly. "Regrettably, we must admit that what this brave Miss Fina said is true. What she revealed today is only the tip of the iceberg. The scale and severity of corruption and injustice are far too vast and horrific to be easily explained away by Monsignor Bateman's so-called 'constitutional issues.'"

Everyone was in an uproar. Amidst the clamor, Marquis Bateman stared in disbelief at the Cardinal's compassionate, handsome face—had this "Dustless Light" gone mad?! The Radiant Church had just been embroiled in a fierce conflict with the Okansele Society, and now this man was openly supporting the society's president?!

Anyway, he would never believe that this person was just doing this out of some ridiculous "pity".

"Enough." The queen's voice interrupted the buzzing discussions. Her voice was not loud, but wherever her golden animal eyes swept across, everyone quickly quieted down.

"The Blooming Conference is not a gladiatorial arena for you all to attack each other," Esmerel said coldly. "Whether it's a scandal or a meritorious achievement, if you have evidence, please submit it directly to the Chief Justice of the Supervisory Tribunal after the meeting."

This one sentence struck a blow to all three parties. More importantly, the Queen would never allow the Third Council or the Vatican to publicly try an imperial minister.

In the silence, the ghost's voice sounded again as if nothing had happened: "Of course, a dedicated person for a dedicated job."

He nodded calmly, as if ready to drop the topic, and then turned a page in the document in his hand: "Then the next topic is about the war in the north."

As soon as these words were spoken, many people gasped, some even staring at him with awe. Everyone present knew, of course, that this "victory" so much touted in the newspapers was actually a complete and utter defeat for the Silver Iris Empire. The person who signed the territorial cession agreement was seated above the royal family, yet this guy, without hesitation, proceeded to pull out the beard of the growling tiger.

"Regarding the military expenditure allocated to the Northern Legion for the war against Ferros, this concerns the Silver Iris Empire's largest and most devastating foreign war in the past decade." The black-haired young man's voice suddenly became stern. "Then I would like to ask, Mr. Bateman and Mr. Duke Kamu, what percentage of the Empire's war funds was actually used to purchase military supplies? And how much went into the pockets of quartermasters and suppliers?"

"--And the most horrifying thing." The ghost's voice was not loud, but it was like an icy hammer that shattered the deathly silence in the hall. "Those precious military supplies that Marquis Baartman said were purchased with the efforts of the entire nation, those winter clothes, military rations, swords, guns and cannons that were supposed to support the frontline soldiers fighting bloody battles with the Feroth people on the ice field, how many of them actually became armor worn by the Feroth people and bullets fired at our soldiers?!"