I have walked the muddiest alleys and shared a penny-dreadful with the lowliest vagabonds, but the stench of corruption in the halls of power is far fouler than any rookery in the East End. In the frozen outpost of Salehkhar, the town governors have finally turned their gaze upon the ledgers of the Public Relations office—a den of thieves, if ever there was one.

While the former masters of that office now face the cold stare of the magistrate, charged with fraud and the abuse of their station, the auditors have been digging through the filth of the year 1824—pardon, 2024. They found a systemic rot. Nearly three hundred million rubles passed through those hands, and thirty-four distinct violations were unearthed, like maggots in a piece of spoiled meat.

Consider the absurdity! Some eighty-three thousand rubles were squandered on 'non-financial assets'—objects of some vague utility that arrived only after the festivities they were meant for had long since concluded. A farce! But the darker truth lies in the remaining sums. The auditors speak of 'sham transactions'—contracts signed with no intention of a single nail being driven or a single page written. It was a game of shadows, a gambler's bluff played with the public purse.

These findings smell of the same foul air as the criminal case against the former Political Deputy and his accomplice. The constabulary alleges that these officials, controlling the local gazette, spirited away the gold through fictitious pacts with a local tradesman. That rogue of a businessman has already received a suspended sentence, while his masters still await the gavel's fall.

Yet, mark my words: the official audit is but a trickle compared to the flood of theft. While the accountants moan over a few thousand, the courts speak of five million rubles vanished into thin air—a quarter of which lined the tradesman's pockets, likely spent in some smoky tavern or hidden in a secret till.

As the scent of scandal lingered, the administration performed a sleight of hand. They renamed the 'Department of Public Relations' to the 'Department of Public Relations'—a mere change of coat to hide the stains of the past—folding it into a new Ministry of Internal Policy. But the ghosts of the swindle remain, and the truth, like a persistent detective, always finds its way to the light.