Elara stretched her arms, then looked at the steward slumped against the wall. "How many servants are registered to this palace."
He lifted his head slightly, mouth still swollen. "About thirty, Your Highness."
Elara's expression didn't change. "Thirty. But since I woke up, I haven't seen thirty servants. Where are they."
The second steward—a thin man who'd been trying to stay invisible—spoke up, voice shaking. "Your Highness, they're... they're serving in other palaces."
Elara went very still.
"Clarify," she said. "They are registered here. They are paid from this palace's budget. But they work elsewhere."
The steward lowered his head. "Yes, Your Highness."
For a long moment, Elara said nothing. Her face showed no anger, no surprise—just that flat, unreadable calm that made everyone in the room hold their breath.
Then she stood up from the desk in one smooth motion.
"Team Five," she said, pointing to the knights who'd been guarding the servants. "Team One." She looked at Liam's group. "Team Three—bring them back from the gates."
The fox-eared knight moved immediately, and within thirty seconds, fifteen knights stood in formation.
Elara picked up one of the staff rosters from the desk and threw it. The lead knight caught it mid-air.
"These are the names," Elara said. "Find every single person on that list. I don't care which palace they're in, whose quarters they're cleaning, or who gave them permission to leave. You drag them back here. Alive. Conscious. Ready to answer questions."
The knights bowed as one. "Yes, Your Highness."
"You have two hours," Elara added. "Anyone who resists, you restrain. Anyone who runs, you chase. Anyone who claims they had permission..." She paused. "Bring them anyway."
The teams moved out at a run, boots echoing down the corridor.
Elara turned back to the remaining servants. The steward looked like he might faint. The others had gone gray.
"Ghost employees," Elara said, voice flat. "Stealing wages while serving someone else's household. That's not corruption—that's organized fraud." She sat back on the edge of the desk. "And you let it happen because you thought I was too weak to notice."
No one answered.
"Lisa," Elara said without looking back.
"Yes, Your Highness?"
"Bring tea," Elara said. "We're going to be here a while." She pulled the next stack of documents toward her and opened to the first page. "Because when those fifteen knights come back with thirty terrified servants, we're going to have a very long conversation about who authorized this arrangement."
She looked up at the steward, the head maid, and the others still pressed against the wall.
"And someone," she added, "is going to tell me which palace thought it was acceptable to steal my staff."
According to historical palace hierarchies, servants were strictly assigned to specific households and their wages came from designated household budgets.
Reassigning staff without approval from the household head or steward was a serious breach of protocol. The fact that this had been happening systematically suggested either incompetence or deliberate embezzlement—and given the other evidence Elara had already collected, it was clearly the latter. By deploying three full knight teams to retrieve the "ghost employees," she was sending a message not just to her own staff, but to whichever palace had been benefiting from the arrangement: the Fourth Princess was no longer ignoring what happened in her own household.
.
.
.
The fifteen knights split at the main corridor junction. Team One went east toward the Crown Princess's wing. Team Three headed north to the administrative quarters. Team Five took the western route toward the concubines' residences.
Liam's team hit the Crown Princess's kitchens first. The head cook—a broad woman with flour on her apron—looked up from her cutting board as five knights in red uniforms filed through the door.
"What is this—" she started.
Liam pulled the roster from his belt. "Martha Grayson. Registered to the Fourth Princess's household. Paid from her treasury. Currently employed here without transfer authorization."
A young maid near the ovens dropped her ladle. Her face went white.
"Martha Grayson," Liam repeated, louder. "Step forward."
The girl didn't move. The cook stepped in front of her. "She's assigned here by Lady Eleana's steward. You have no authority—"
"Imperial order," Liam said. His voice didn't rise, but it cut clean. "The Fourth Princess is conducting an audit. All registered staff return immediately." He looked past the cook directly at the girl. "You can walk, or we carry you. Choose."
Martha's hands shook. She looked at the cook, who had no answer, then stepped out from behind her.
"Good," Liam said. He nodded to two knights. "Escort her to the Fourth Princess's wing. Secure her with the others." He looked back at the cook. "Five more names on this list work in this kitchen. Produce them in the next three minutes or we search every room."
The cook's jaw tightened, but she turned and snapped orders. Four more servants emerged from the pantry and storage rooms, pale and trembling.
By the time Liam's team left, they had six servants walking ahead of them in a tight line, hands visible, heads down.
***
Team Three found their targets in the records office—three clerks who were supposed to be cleaning the Fourth Princess's library but had been reassigned to file imperial documents instead. When the knights entered, the clerks tried to run. Two made it to the back stairwell before they were caught and dragged back by their collars. The third just sat down and put his hands on his head.
"Smart," the team leader said. He checked the roster. "You three are coming back to explain why you've been collecting double wages for the past eight months."
"We didn't ask for this," one of them stammered. "The steward said—"
"Tell it to the Princess," the knight said. "Move."
***
Team Five had the hardest job. The concubines' wing was delicate territory—protected, private, and full of people who didn't appreciate soldiers barging in. The fox-eared knight led his team through the gardens and straight to the servants' entrance. A guard tried to stop them.
"State your business."
"Imperial audit," the fox knight said, showing the roster. "We're retrieving staff registered to the Fourth Princess."
The guard didn't move. "You'll need written permission from—"
The fox knight's hand went to his sword hilt. He didn't draw it. He just rested his palm there, and his ears flattened against his skull. "Step aside. Or I remove you and *then* retrieve the staff."
The guard looked at the four knights behind him—all standing ready, all watching him with the same flat, patient stare—and stepped aside.