"Very well," Seteth says. "I will speak with the Archbishop and begin making arrangements for the inquest to be held tomorrow morning."
My eyes widen. "How are we supposed to be prepared in time?"
"I don't know if you are," Claude cuts in, earning him glares from both Seteth and Edelgard.
"The Archbishop will insist that this matter be dealt with quickly, and ideally with as much discretion as possible." Seteth's severe face doesn't waver.
Well, I can tell you right now that discretion isn't on the table anymore—it seems like the whole monastery already knows.
He continues. "If she agrees to hold a trial, then it will surely be tomorrow."
Edelgard leans back slightly, straightening her posture, and nods. "I understand, Headmaster," she says. "We will be ready tomorrow, come what may."
I wish I could match her confidence, but as my lip quivers all I can do is nod.
"Good," Seteth says. "Come along, Flayn. We must be leaving. And you, Mister Riegan—you should get going as well."
Claude shakes his head. "If it's all the same to you, I'd like to stick around and see what these two are planning," he says.
"What are you scheming?" Edelgard asks. Couldn't have said it better myself.
"Who said anything about scheming?" he counters. "I'm just thinking you might need another person to bounce ideas off of. Honestly, I'm not sure I'd do so well under the pressure of being the avocado or whatever you called it, but I still want to help out, you know."
Edelgard sighs and shakes her head. I'm right with her there, too—I don't buy it. Under better circumstances, Claude's jokes could earn a chuckle or two from me, but now it just reeks of ingratiation.
"As long as you refrain from interfering in the proceedings, I do not care what you do with your free time," Seteth says. "And before I forget, come here, Harrison." He approaches the cell, and with a key, unlocks a small window in the bars that I hadn't noticed.
I cautiously walk to the window. "What are you doing?"
"Let me see your manacles," he says. Oh, thank God, is he going to undo them? It's awkward, but I manage to turn around and present my bound hands to the window.
Click. The handcuffs give way, and I feel a release of tension that's been building for hours—my hands are finally free! "Oh, thank—" I suppress a God "—thank you," I say.
"Now turn around," Seteth says.
Shit. He's just flipping them around.
I bite my lip and do as he says, putting my hands out in front of me to be bound once more. Seteth places the handcuffs on me once again and locks them in place—looser than before, and certainly in a less uncomfortable position, but still a reminder that I'm not even close to out of the woods.
"I hope you did not seriously expect to lose those so readily," he says. "In any case, I have a final word for you, Harrison." We lock eyes. "Do not forget the conditions of your employment here."
For a moment, I'm not sure what he's referring to, but then it clicks—he's telling me not to come clean about being found in the Holy Tomb, not under any circumstances. Seeing as that would appear to incriminate me more, not less, I'm certainly willing to oblige him. "I won't," I reply. But I feel the next words get caught in my throat as I try to ask him the burning question. Eventually, and with great effort, I force it out: "Can you tell me who accused me in the first place?"
Seteth closes his eyes for a moment, as if pondering it. "I am afraid I cannot reveal that information at this time. You will surely find out at the trial tomorrow."
Edelgard protests. "But Headmaster—"
"It's Professor Goneril, isn't it?" I ask. It has to be.
Seteth sighs. "To tell the truth, I am unsure. I do not have a complete understanding of the situation, but it seems he is involved somehow."
"I knew it," I mutter. "He's setting me up!"
"I did not confirm any such thing," Seteth says, with a weakly dismissive wave of the hand. "There are rules and procedures to be followed, and I am already pushing the limits of my discretionary powers."
I suppose the least Seteth could do for me was, at least indirectly, confirm the identity of my accuser, especially given the blackmail I have on him—my knowledge that he and Flayn were in the Holy Tomb. And maybe that's why Seteth doesn't even seem sorry about the state of affairs. I've been nothing but trouble for him, and much as I might dislike it, he has every reason to want me gone. Even though I could take him down with me if I so desired—even though I could just threaten it.
"Well, let me just push them a bit more," I say, an impatient edge involuntarily creeping into my voice. "What exactly am I being accused of, anyway? What the hell does conspiracy against the Church even mean?"
"Ah, that is an astute question," Edelgard says. "If I remember correctly, by the Church's reckoning, conspiracy against the Church is not strictly an individual crime, but a category, or a grade of severity, if you like. Any crime that consists of an action or attempt to threaten the integrity of the Church, or any member of the clergy or the Knights, will qualify," she explains. "But there ought to be a more concrete issue we are discussing here."
"Indeed," Seteth says. "You know the law well, Miss Hresvelg. But I cannot answer your question, because even I do not know what the specific accusation is."
I furrow my brow. "What? How come you don't—"
"It is a matter I must take up with Dame Catherine," he says. "She will be presenting the accusations and the evidence against you. As the Commander of the Holy Guard, she also assumes the duties of the most senior reeve for the Central Church, answering only to the Archbishop in matters of crimes committed on Church territory. On the other hand, I only act in an administrative capacity at most."
Reeve—I remember learning at some point that "sheriff" is just a contraction of "shire reeve." So Catherine's job description also includes investigating, apprehending, and, I guess, prosecuting criminals.
"So you're saying she didn't even tell you what this was all about?"
"Unfortunately not," Seteth says. He sighs. "Whatever the accusation may be, she is clearly quite torn up about the situation. No doubt she is concerned about potential threats to the Archbishop. Hopefully, she will calm down soon, so I can learn more about—whatever it is that is going on."
"If you do learn more, Headmaster," Edelgard says. "Would you be able to pass that information along to us? It would be quite useful—and, not to mention, fair—to know ahead of time the specific accusations and evidence being presented."
"I shall see what I can do," he says, nodding his head solemnly. "But that will be all I am able to do. If you think I am willing or able to put my thumb on the scale of judgement from the Archbishop, you are sorely mistaken. In the tribunal tomorrow, I will be the perfectly impartial hand of the Archbishop's will - nothing more, nothing less."
Yeah, a will based on unjust procedures and false premises, and almost certainly fake evidence. I appreciate what he does, and I get that he's in a tough spot. But some part of me can't shake the feeling that he just wants to be rid of me, blackmail be damned.
Flayn walks over to the cell. "Do not give up hope, Harrison!" she says, interrupting the strained silence.
"Thank you," I mumble.
No, it would never be right to use that leverage on Seteth—it wouldn't be fair to Flayn. It's only by her kindness and mercy that I'm alive to begin with, and screwing over her father-brother (and probably herself at the same time, depending on just how much of a no-no running around in the Holy Tomb is) isn't the right way to repay that.
"We really must be going," Seteth says. "I will notify you when and if the situation changes. Farewell, and I shall see you all soon."
He waves Flayn over, and she dutifully returns to his side. Together, they turn and walk down the hall.
I lean back against the wall of the cell, not quite sure how to feel. On the one hand, Edelgard and Claude seem like they want to help me. Edelgard serving as my defense attorney of sorts is particularly welcome given my utter lack of knowledge about Fódlan's legal system. Something gives me the sense that Rhea will move the goalposts however she sees fit, but at least Edelgard is more prepared to deal with it all than I am alone.
But on the other hand, what is it that these two want with me? I'm not trying to look a gift horse in the mouth. These two don't do something just to do it—they're shrewd and calculating. Maybe they just want information about who I am—Edelgard especially—but maybe there's more to it than that. I don't know yet.
Claude rubs his hands together and grins. "Let's get down to business, huh?" he says.
"I really don't know what you are planning, Claude, but let me make something clear," Edelgard says. "I will be serving as Harrison's advocate, not you."
"You've made that quite clear, Your Highness," Claude replies. "But why are you so eager to rush into the fray like that? What's in it for you?"
She folds her arms. "I could ask you the same thing," she says. "Why bother waiting around here? That is, other than because you derive some twisted entertainment from pestering me?"
Claude laughs. "Well, that's part of it, I admit," he says.
"And the other part?"
He pauses for a moment, then shakes his head. "I don't think that's as important as you think it is," he says. "We can discuss the whys and wherefores later. In my humble opinion, the most important thing to do is get our friend out of trouble now. We've only—excuse me, you've only—got today to prepare, after all."
"Fine. I'll allow you to dodge the question for now," says Edelgard. She turns to me. "Let's focus on the issue at hand. The involvement of Professor Goneril in the case seems to be an open secret, though I doubt things are that simple. But why were you so quick to suspect him as your accuser?
Claude speaks up. "Was it that you didn't clean out his office to his particular specifications?"
That's right, he was the one who pulled Caius Goneril away long enough for me to make that mishap.
"Well, let's start with this. You said that Dimitri and Professor Manuela were taken in for questioning, too, right?"
They nod.
"Yeah, so…" I sigh. "Yesterday, I had an incident with Professor Goneril, while I was cleaning his office. Claude interrupted us and dragged the professor away, so I just worked on sweeping the floor. I tried moving his chest of drawers out of the way, but I lost my grip on it and it fell on the ground.
"Nothing broke, thankfully. I put everything back as nicely as I could, but Professor Manuela and Dimitri heard the commotion and checked on me. I told them what happened—and told them to hide it from Professor Goneril. I'll admit that much: I didn't tell him what happened myself. But if that's conspiracy against the church, then I guess there's no hope for me, is there?"
Edelgard speaks up. "So you think Professor Goneril accused you of conspiracy because he was upset that you dropped his furniture? That you lied to cover it?" She tilts her head dubiously. "Could there be another reason Professor Manuela and Dimitri were called in?"
"It's possible that those two are involved for another reason, I guess. But look—Professor Goneril never really liked me much at all," I say. "And there's more to it."
"Oh?"
"Inside the drawers, there were these weird vials," I explain. "Little glass bottles. They were all the way in the back, behind a row of books, like they were hidden. I tried putting them back the best I could, but no doubt Professor Goneril knows I saw them."
"Weird vials, huh?" Claude says. "You'd think those would be more Hanneman's style."
I shrug, as much as I can considering the chains. "I don't know. I couldn't really see what was inside. It could be nothing, but—I can't explain it, but I've got this sinking feeling that it's all about those vials."
Edelgard nods slightly. "I see. Professor Goneril accused you of conspiracy to hide whatever was in those vials," she says. "To silence you permanently."
"That's the best explanation I've got," I say. "For a while, he kept pushing back against the idea of me cleaning his office. It's not crazy to think he might have been concerned about this all along."
She puts a gloved hand on her chin. "I suppose that makes sense. Though I must say, on the face of it, it seems rather gauche—not to mention risky. What if you told the knights everything you knew? If what you say is true, that would not bode well for him."
Claude pipes up. "Professor Goneril doesn't exactly strike me as the sharpest arrow in the quiver, if you catch my drift," he says. "I doubt he's above this kind of harebrained scheme."
"And I don't really have any other ideas that are as convincing," I say.
"Then let us work with it for now," Edelgard replies. "With that in mind, we need to discuss how we are going to defeat the charge of conspiracy."
I laugh a strained, hopeless, bleak laugh. "I don't see what there is to discuss," I say. "I mean, I appreciate you defending me and all, Edelgard. But we don't know what kind of evidence they're going to bring out. For all we know, they might have Professor Goneril, Professor Manuela and Dimitri testify, or they might not. Really, we have no idea what they're planning."
"That's true," Edelgard says. "Can you think of any other times you were in conflict with Church leadership?"
"I thought you're supposed to be proving his innocence," Claude cuts in.
Edelgard scoffs. "I am," she says, turning back to me. "I'm simply wondering if there are any incidents leading to other misunderstandings that could have been extrapolated into the appearance of conspiracy."
"Well, I don't really know the prayers all that well, or certain rules about customs or politeness," I reply. "It's gotten me a few strange looks—as I'm sure you know by now, Edelgard—but not a whole lot more than that."
She just nods.
Claude gives me a coy look. "Who else knows you're a foreigner?"
I feel my jaw drop, but I awkwardly try to suppress it into a more normal expression when I realize I'm just giving it away. "How—what are you talking about?" I ask. I thought I felt hollow and numb before, during the whirlwind of being arrested and imprisoned, but somehow, it just gets worse.
Edelgard, with no compunctions about hiding the truth, glares away. "What do you know, Claude?" she asks with a hostile edge in her voice.
"I know enough to know that Harrison isn't exactly a local," he says. Claude leans back against the wall of the dungeon, directing his smug grin my way. "There's no use trying to hide it, friend. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I would hardly be surprised if Goneril and company try using it as a knock against your character. You know how the people of Fódlan are about foreigners."
"I'm not hiding anything," I stammer.
"Not from me, you're not," Claude says. "You said it yourself. You don't really know the prayers, or the customs, or the proper protocols of politeness. You don't know things that most other people do, and you know things that most other people don't. Remember the 'Short Little Scorpion?'"
I bite my lip, saying nothing. That's the nickname he gave Lysithea when we were talking at the New Years' celebration.
"Most Fódlan commoners wouldn't know what a scorpion is. They're native to the deserts of Almyra," he says.
Edelgard folds her arms. "I still don't know what you're planning," she says. "But consider that every argument you've made as for why Harrison must be a foreigner can be applied right back to you."
Claude nods. "Fair enough, Your Highness," he says. She's right, and he knows it. How is he going to deflect? "But when I do it, I get to be the eccentric grandson of Duke Riegan. When he does it, he looks like a dangerous subversive, and if there's one thing the Church hates, it's dangerous subversives. Is it a rational reason to fear Harrison? No, not really. But this is the world we live in."
"Just one of many injustices that ought to be corrected," Edelgard mutters.
I sigh. "Alright, fine. I admit it—I'm not from Fódlan. But the only other people who I've admitted that to, besides you two, are Seteth, Flayn, and one other student. And I don't think that student's identity is very important—I really don't think they're involved." And I don't want these two to bother poor Petra.
"Another student, huh?" Claude asks. "How'd they find out?"
"Same way Edelgard did," I reply. "They asked."
Claude's mouth hangs open for a moment. Then he turns to Edelgard, chuckling and wagging a finger. "You're good, Princess," he says. "You're very good."
She tosses a stray lock of hair over her shoulder, and nods confidently. "Sometimes, the best solution to a problem is the most direct."
I don't really want to go through the Morfis story with Claude, or worse, have Edelgard continue to poke holes in it. I'm becoming increasingly sure that's why both of them got involved.
"You're right, Claude. There's no use hiding it. There's no way I can really pretend otherwise when you get down to it," I admit. "But it's not like being a foreigner is illegal. If they bring it up tomorrow, I'll tell the truth."
"Thankfully, being a foreigner is not the charge that we are defending against," Edelgard says. "While the Archbishop or Professor Goneril may take issue with your lack of knowledge of religious or social customs, it hardly rises to the level of conspiracy. Don't you agree, Claude?""
"Alright, alright, I get the hint," says Claude. "I won't pry any further. Not now, anyway. But it still might be a point of contention tomorrow."
"And my advocate knows how I want to deal with it," I say flatly.
Claude shakes his head with a casual smile. "So what else is there to do?" he asks. "I mean, we know the accusation came from Professor Goneril, and it's probably in part based on that incident with the vials. And we've addressed the wyvern in the room, that is, you not being a local. But other than that?"
"There's not much more we can do without learning more from Seteth about how the trial will be run," Edelgard says. "I'll go see if I can find out more information—and review my Adrestian law in the meantime."
While I guess there was no reason to expect them to stick around all day, the idea of them leaving me until tomorrow—here, alone—suddenly makes me very anxious. "Don't leave me hanging," I say, wringing my hands. "Please."
Edelgard frowns. "There's no reason to worry. I'll return later in the day with a better understanding of what we can do, and we can finish developing our strategy then."
"That's okay, I guess," I reply with a sigh. If there's anything she can get from her informal investigation, then maybe my chances will be better. "You should get going, then."
"Any messages you'd like us to pass along?" Claude asks.
I consider it. Would that be incriminating? Or would not saying anything be incriminating?
"I think saying anything now would be unwise," Edelgard says. "You can talk to the others after we prove your innocence."
Claude laughs. "That's the spirit, Your Highness!" He turns and looks back to me. "We'll see you later, Harrison. Good luck down here."
"Good luck out there," I reply.
Claude waves goodbye and starts heading down the hallway, and Edelgard follows.
I just hold my head in my hands, and cry.
A long time passes. I have no concept of how much, except for how increasingly tired and hungry I find myself becoming. Somehow, sitting in this prison cell, with my hands bound and nothing to do and no one to keep me company, is more exhausting than going about a full day of work with Cyril. I just lean against the wall as comfortably as I can and try to calm myself down, futile as it is.
At some point, a guard appears from the corridor and tosses a hunk of bread into my cell. Thankfully, with my hands bound in front of my body, I'm able to get it into my mouth easily enough. The bread is stale, tough and tasteless, but calories are calories, I suppose.
"So what's the plan, Princess?"
Edelgard sighs. "I'm going to speak with Catherine and see if I can pry any specifics about the investigation out of her—and see if Seteth has been able to get anything, either. You're free to do as you like."
"Your permission is appreciated," Claude replies with a grin, though it quickly fades. He cocks his head. "You think Seteth is on our side?"
"Our side?" What is Claude getting at?
"The side of defending Harrison, obviously. I mean, Seteth's loyalty should be to the Church above some random worker, right?"
He has a point, Edelgard must admit. Even if Claude doesn't know Seteth's true identity, it doesn't make all that much sense that he would meddle this much. "Well, Flayn certainly seems distraught at the possibility of his execution. I suspect that's enough for him."
"Maybe." He shrugs. "It's hard to guess at people's true motives sometimes, you know?"
"Indeed," Edelgard replies, her patience wearing thin. "Which is why I am going to focus on the possible motives of whoever is framing Harrison like this."
Claude just nods. "Well, it sounds like you know what you're doing, so I'll stay out of your hair. I'll try asking around and see if anyone else has some insight. You never know what gossip might prove valuable."
Edelgard doubts he'll find anything useful, but she nods. "Good hunting," she replies. "Let's meet at the dining hall by noon and debrief on what we've found."
"Yes ma'am," Claude replies with a mock salute. Edelgard rolls her eyes.
She first returns to her dormitory room to retrieve a small notebook and a drawing charcoal—a bit unwieldy in the hand, but more compact and convenient than an ink and quill for jotting down anything noteworthy. Soon after, it doesn't take long to find Seteth, who informs her that Catherine has calmed down enough to actually be willing to give some useful information about the case—and, just as important, that she and the Archbishop have agreed to let Edelgard serve as Harrison's advocate. Seteth offers to relay what he's learned, but Edelgard politely declines for the time being. She knows the High Reeve is skilled with the sword, but she wants to see for herself how she fares in the arena of words.
Catherine is, as expected, still agitated about the whole set of circumstances. Her manner is brusque and impatient.
"With all due respect, Your Highness, why are you dirtying your hands with this?" she asks, folding her arms. "You should focus on your studies. Just leave us to the job of apprehending the criminal—no need to drag it out."
Edelgard frowns slightly. Her opinions about the Church's system for apprehending and prosecuting criminals would probably not find a welcome audience in Catherine. "I don't doubt your capabilities. But if I am to lead the Adrestian Empire, I think it would do me well to gain some firsthand experience in these legal procedures."
Catherine just nods, and the conversation quickly turns to brass tacks. Edelgard is soon able to get some information out of her. Last night, a guard, one Albert Diels, outside of one of the Archbishop's locked chambers was attacked by an unknown individual and knocked unconscious. The intruder trespassed in Rhea's chambers and stole one of her ceremonial hairpieces. The identity of that criminal, Catherine asserts, is none other than Harrison himself.
"Have you found the lost item yet?" Edelgard asks.
"No," Catherine replies, twitching ever so slightly. "It wasn't in Harrison's room, but that doesn't absolve him of anything. He could have stashed it anywhere, or just pawned it off to a shady merchant."
Before Edelgard can interrupt, she continues.
"It doesn't matter, though. We've got eyewitness testimony and evidence that places Harrison at the scene of the crime," Catherine says.
Oh, now this is getting interesting. "May I see it?"
Catherine frowns. "The whole idea is to show that in the tribunal tomorrow," she replies.
Edelgard might find Catherine's remark amusing if it wasn't a perfect example of everything that was wrong with this system of supposed justice.
"I need to see the evidence if I am to be prepared to argue for Harrison's innocence," Edelgard rebuts.
"Well, having seen it myself, I can tell you there isn't much to argue off of. Seems like an open and shut case to me."
"If that's so, then me taking a look shouldn't change that one bit. The facts of the case will be the same, after all," Edelgard explains.
"Fine. You can take a look around, I suppose. But I'm saving the witnesses and the most important evidence for tomorrow."
"As is your privilege," Edelgard says.
Catherine grants Edelgard access to the crime scene, waving off the guards standing by the door to the chamber in question. The two are allowed inside. One of the key pieces of evidence to suggest the Archbishop's chambers were broken into is a series of dirty tracks marring the otherwise spotless floor—the tread of the boot matching the standard worker's boots that Harrison wears. The prints lead from the door towards the table upon which the Archbishop's headpiece was laid and back again, with a ceremonial tablecloth knocked over in the process.
"Well, Your Highness? Seems like an open and shut case of theft to me. Even without what else I have, this is damning, don't you think?"
Edelgard doesn't reply. She inspects the tracks further, then takes out her charcoal and notebook and begins to sketch them in the best detail she can muster. She holds back a sigh—in between her studies and working towards her plans she'd hoped to steal away a few moments to practice her art, but she hardly anticipated the circumstances.
Nothing here could directly tie Professor Goneril or his mysterious vials to the situation, not on the surface of it. Perhaps it was a futile exercise, she thinks, but she ought to do it anyway. Note that break in the pattern on the left print, the odd shape of the edge on the right, and so on. Edelgard finishes sketching the footprints and closes her book.
"Thank you very much, Dame Catherine," she says. "Might I ask you another question?"
"Go for it," Catherine replies.
"Is Professor Goneril involved in this case?" Edelgard knows the answer to this question, but probing the prosecutor's reactions here may yet prove informative.
Catherine frowns and furrows her brow. "How'd you get that idea from staring at some footprints?"
"I didn't," Edelgard says. "I got it from speaking with Harrison."
"Small wonder." The High Reeve wrinkles her nose. "Yes, he is. But I'm not saying any more than that. You won't make me go back on my word from before, you know. I'm saving it for tomorrow. "
"I understand. Even so, I appreciate how forthcoming you have been so far, Dame Catherine." Edelgard almost bites the inside of her lip trying to hide the disdainful irony of her words. She bids Catherine a farewell and heads down the hall.
How could this system be called just? Harrison was arrested before news of the crime became public, his guilt all but certain in the eyes of the law. He needed an advocate to test the strength of the Church's case, though it was only Seteth's interference that allowed him to have one. And now, Edelgard's efforts to defend him are being not just opposed, but blocked. And this was all by design—both Harrison and Edelgard have gotten quite a bit farther than they had any right to by the procedures on paper. Edelgard shudders to think of the untold numbers of innocents that have been punished over the millennium, the truth and their potential innocence lost to time. Even with cases like Christophe Gaspard, the Church could fabricate whatever charges they saw fit, writing and rewriting history as suited their needs. One day soon, Edelgard would end this terrible power of theirs. But for now she would do her best with this one small injustice, even as she wasn't sure how.
Edelgard and Claude return later in the day, each holding a small bowl, accompanied by a guard. "Seteth let us bring you some food," Claude says with a grin. "Real food, that is."
The guard opens a small window in the cell, letting them place the bowls on the ground. Edelgard has brought me a bowl of onion gratin soup, while Claude has opted for the vegetable stir-fry.
"We couldn't agree on what to bring you," Edelgard says. "But given the current state of things, I doubt more would hurt."
Well, she's not wrong. I thank them for their thoughtfulness and eagerly tuck into the meal. My restraints make the task hardly a trivial one, but there is no motivator like hunger. It doesn't take long for me to figure out the best way to use the spoon under these circumstances, and despite those circumstances, for a brief moment, I feel more normal. I feel like something closer to a real human.
"While you eat, allow me to go over what I've learned from Seteth and Catherine," Edelgard says.
I just nod—my mouth is full of soup, anyway.
"The charges you have been accused of are assault, trespassing and theft," she begins. "The—"
I almost choke. "Assault? Of his patience, maybe. And he thinks I stole something from him?" I ask.
Edelgard wags a finger indicating I'm mistaken. I shut up. Let the attorney talk.
"Allow me to clarify. Last night, a guard outside of one of the Archbishop's rooms was knocked unconscious. Then, those chambers were broken into, and one of her ceremonial hairpieces was stolen. You are being accused of it all."
Oh. Not Professor Goneril at all. "So that's what this is about?" I ask, baffled. "That's complete bullshit!"
Claude throws up his hands and shrugs. "Lady Rhea's hair clip is actually missing, and there were signs of a break-in. And chances are that guard will have his story—"
"It is a real incident, yes," Edelgard interrupts. "But that certainly doesn't mean Harrison did it."
If I could move my hands I would be punching something. "I didn't do it," I insist.
"Let's start with this," she says. "What were you doing last night?"
I sigh. "I know my alibi isn't exactly watertight, but I went back to my room after dinner to turn in early, like I've been doing almost every night. I'm usually pretty exhausted after a full work day."
"I get that, but I don't think anyone is going to be able to confirm your story," Claude says.
Edelgard puts a hand on her chin. "I suppose we've all but exhausted the alibi route, then."
"You don't believe I did it, do you?" I ask. "Just because I can't—"
"I believe you, Harrison," she says. "But the fact remains that Catherine believes she has compelling evidence that proves your guilt. I wasn't able to learn all of the details, but for one, footprints matching the common boots used by monastery workers were found in the Archbishop's chambers. She claims there is more evidence, and no doubt the guard will be brought to testify. As for Professor Goneril, I'm still not sure how he will fit into the situation."
Shock turns to anger, and anger to confusion. "Well, I'm sure Goneril is lying through his teeth," I fire back. "If anything, he did it, just to frame me like this!"
"It certainly makes sense," Claude says, "but there's no way to know for sure. For all we know, he could just be taking advantage of an opportunity."
For all I know about the plot of the game, this seems dubious. I feel like this kind of incident would have been mentioned if it was "supposed" to come up. But that's obviously not something I can explain to them.
"Well, one thing at a time. The footprints don't mean anything. My boots are standard-issue, so anyone could grab a pair rather than wear something more distinctive. They're not conclusive evidence that it was me," I say.
"The point is well taken, but I'm not convinced Catherine, or the Archbishop, sees it that way," Edelgard says. She takes out a small notebook and flips open to a page and shows it to me—a charcoal drawing of what I presume to be the crime scene, with a careful and detailed depiction of the footprints. "I sketched this in the Archbishop's chambers," she explains.
"I didn't know you fancied yourself an artist, Your Highness," Claude replies.
"Believe me, I don't," Edelgard says flatly. She turns back to me. "I'd like to examine your shoes closely and see if any of these details match up."
It's worth a try, I suppose. "Here's hoping they don't," I mutter. I take off my shoes and compare the wear pattern on the tread to Edelgard's drawings. They don't match up exactly, but I doubt it'll end up proving my innocence.
I sigh. I wouldn't expect Fódlan to have fingerprinting down (and besides, gloves exist), but is this the only way I'm able to prove I wasn't at the scene of the crime?
"Do we still think Professor Goneril actually did it?" Claude asks in a seeming non-sequitur.
"It's either an honest mistake or I'm being framed," I say, laying the sarcasm thick on the honest. An honest investigation wouldn't jump the gun without even asking me my side of the story. "If it's the latter, he's the only one who could be behind it. But I don't know how we could prove that. We know why, but I just don't know how we can get him—"
She sighs. "I'm afraid the news doesn't get better on that front. We will have opportunities to question the witnesses brought by the Church and offer rebuttals, but it does not appear as though we will be able to summon our own witnesses."
"I guess I don't even know who we would call," I reply.
"So then what's the plan?" Claude asks.
"We'll have to cast doubt on the accusations by carefully challenging the evidence and testimony," Edelgard says. "Such a bald-faced lie is bound to contain details that contradict reality—if we can find those points and expose them, we can establish your innocence."
"I like the enthusiasm, but I'm not so sure that'll be enough," Claude replies. "The guard's testimony might be one thing, but he was unconscious while most of it went down. As far as we know, our pal Professor Goneril is able to just make up whatever he wants and it'll be accepted as fact."
"Yeah, I think Claude's right," I say. "Obviously I don't know much about how the law works here. But unless we've got something better than this footprint, it all seems like it's going to devolve into my word versus Professor Goneril's. And the Archbishop has every reason to believe him—a professor, son of a noble family, compared to me, a suspicious foreigner." I sigh. "Look, the odds are always going to be stacked against me—against us. We can challenge and object and grill him all day, but I don't know if it will be of any use."
Edelgard frowns slightly, looking back at me with downcast eyes. "I'm afraid to admit that you may be correct. We don't just need to undermine his credibility—we need to decimate it. The best way would be to prove that the accusations were made in bad faith. The secret of defense lies in the preparation of an attack."
The best defense is a good offense, I suppose. "I'd start with figuring out what's in those vials that's so fucking precious it's worth stealing from the Archbishop over. That gives us a motive we can use to support the argument that he's framing me."
"My thoughts exactly," Claude says, his grin growing ever wider. "Well, here's an idea. Assuming they haven't been destroyed by now, chances are they're still in that drawer—and, Professor Goneril is going to be out of the office tomorrow…" his voice trails off, and he raises an eyebrow.
"Just what are you insinuating?" Edelgard asks.
"If you want me to spell it out for you, Your Highness, I guess I can." Claude throws up his hands in a gesture of mock surrender. "Let me secure those vials while you're busy arguing tomorrow."
"Hang on, hang on," I interrupt, shaking my head nervously. "I know I said I want to know what's in them—and I do—but this seems like asking for trouble. You can't bring stolen evidence into the trial, can you? I mean, Edelgard said we wouldn't even be able to call our own witnesses. How would this work?"
"It's a bold strategy," she says. "We'd be throwing ourselves on the mercy of the Archbishop and hoping that we have a revelation so urgent that she cannot ignore it."
"But what if it backfires and gets us all killed?" I say.
Edelgard looks at the floor and inhales deeply before speaking again. "Unless you have an objection, Harrison—we should do it. No, we must do it."
I look back up at her and she nods.
"I believe you are telling the truth," she says. "I believe in your innocence. And thus it follows that Caius Goneril must be lying and must be hiding something in those vials. If you believe in your own innocence, you know that I'm right." She smacks a fist into her palm resolutely. "It is natural to be afraid, but in letting go of fear, we realize our true strength. And it is worth fighting for the truth with every ounce of strength we can muster."
I feel my shoulders go limp, and I swallow hard. I don't like the nuclear option, but without going on the offensive, we might as well be dead in the water.
"Nothing, I guess." I take a deep breath. Let go of the fear. Fear is the mind-killer. "Let's do it."
Edelgard smiles.
"Don't worry about me," Claude says. "I can make up whatever silly excuses I need. As soon as I get my hands on the stuff, I'll try to find out what's inside—and, if need be, interrupt the proceedings."
Edelgard rolls her eyes. "I would at least appreciate an explanation of their contents—or at the bare minimum, a warning—before you barge into the Archbishop's inquest."
"Desperate times call for desperate measures," Claude says, shrugging. "I'll see what I can do. And hey, maybe if we're lucky and he actually did do it, I can track down the stolen hairpiece."
"I'm not too confident of that," Edelgard says. "Maintaining possession of it would be quite the blunder."
"Not everyone's as clever as you, Your Highness," Claude replies.
"So, let me see if I've got this," I cut in, trying to head off another round of bickering. "Tomorrow, Edelgard and I are going to try to hold the line by picking at the accusations where we can. Meanwhile, Claude is going to try to get his hands on the mystery specimens. If we can delay things long enough, if Claude can find the goods, and if they help our case, maybe we can turn things around." I inhale deeply, close my eyes, and nod soberly. "I don't like all those ifs, but it's better than certain death."
"The truth is on our side," Edelgard declares. "We will not give in."
"Well said," Claude replies. "I think we should all get some rest. We've got a big day tomorrow."
He says that, but I doubt I'll be able to sleep tonight. My last night alive, possibly. All I can do is put my faith in those two.
Eventually, morning comes. My body is tired and my eyes are bleary, but anxiety and fear send my brain into overdrive anyway. Two guards come to my cell, open the door, and usher me out—my hands are still fucking bound, by the way. They lead me down the hallway and up the stairs out of the prison.
The walk from the prison to where the trial will be held is equally dreadful. Every step I take is heavy with shame and humiliation, as acolytes and soldiers and even some students look at me with disgust. Do they even know who I am already? Seteth said Rhea wanted to handle this discreetly. Or are they just judging based on the fact that I'm being escorted by guards in handcuffs? I mean, I can't blame them—I do look pretty guilty, all but condemned to. I just look at my feet and try to avoid eye contact.
When we walk over the bridge separating the cathedral from the rest of the monastery, some primitive part of my brain considers answering the call to the void. Don't give Rhea or Catherine the satisfaction of killing you. But it's stupid—if the guards stop me in time, that only makes my situation worse. And if they don't, I'm trading in a probable painful death for a certain painful one. All the same, there's something to be said for knowing what you're in for—which I don't.
We head to a room on one of the upper floors of the building housing the cathedral. I'm not sure where it is, exactly, but it's definitely not Rhea's personal chambers or anything like that. One of the guards steps in first and nods before waving me and his cohort inside.
The courtroom is simple, mostly plain. At the far end of the room, sitting on an ornate chair, is the Archbishop herself, her usual serene expression replaced by a dour one. In front of Rhea are two tables that are being used as benches. Catherine, who is glaring daggers at me, stands at one, while Edelgard stands at the other.
Along the back and sides of the room are others. As one of the guards escorts me towards Edelgard's side, we pass by Flayn, Manuela and Dimitri, who look on with strained, sympathetic smiles. Seteth and Shamir, on the other hand, hardly acknowledge me, maintaining the most neutral of expressions. No doubt one of the other knights and guards in the room is the one I'm accused of assaulting, though I don't recognize any of them as I finally walk past Caius Goneril himself. It takes everything in my power not to frown at him as I approach the bench.
I look into Edelgard's mauve eyes, and she looks back at me. My defense attorney, the Imperial princess, is not smiling. But I see the way her shoulders are set back, the way her head is held high, the poise in her stance. The only movement that would betray any nervousness at all is a restless gloved finger moving hesitantly over the pages of a slim leather notebook that sits on the table—even that shows just how prepared she is. And I can't help but stand up a little straighter for it.
Someone shuts the door with a clanking boom, and a hush falls over the courtroom.
Rhea looks around the room. "It appears that all parties necessary for this tribunal to convene are present. In that case, we shall begin." She stands, and I notice that at her side is a sheathed sword. She raises the sword and unsheathes part of the blade, revealing the curved edge of the Sword of Seiros. She sheathes it again and taps it against the floor with a resounding thud. There is no gavel in the court of the Church of the Seiros—the sword is the law.
Rhea then looks at me. Her green irises bear down on me, as cold, intense and penetrating as hailstones. I feel a chill spreading from my chest down my limbs. "Harrison Weitmann, you stand accused of assault, trespassing, theft, and conspiracy against the Church of Seiros," she says, in a somber and measured tone. "Do you contest these charges?"
I steel myself and nod. "Yes, Archbishop Rhea. All charges."
Rhea knits her brows inward ever so slightly. "In that case, allow me to make something perfectly clear before we begin. It is only with the advice and counsel of the Holy Chamberlain that this tribunal has been convened to grant you the unusual opportunity to contest this accusation, and further to allow you the assistance of Edelgard von Hresvelg as your advocate. Dare not abuse the boons you have been granted, for in doing so, you would profane the sanctity of this Church and the grace of the goddess herself. Do you understand?"
"I understand, Archbishop Rhea."
She sits back down, keeping the sheathed sword on her lap. "Commander Catherine of the Holy Guard and High Reeve for the Central Church, are you ready to present the accusations?"
Catherine nods. "It would be my honor, Your Eminence."
Your Eminence? I didn't know that was a thing. Rhea herself said that referring to her as the Archbishop or just Lady Rhea was fine, didn't she? I really can't do it with all these noble titles.
"Two nights ago, a dastardly criminal violated the sanctity of our Church and committed a series of heinous crimes. The perpetrator assaulted Albert Diels, a guard posted outside of one of the Archbishop's locked chambers. A short struggle ensued, and while Diels put up a fight, the criminal choked him out and knocked him unconscious, then forced his way into Lady Rhea's room. The perpetrator callously tossed beautiful handmade tablecloths to the ground, as if they were no more than rags, before stealing the Archbishop's ceremonial headpiece. We can only thank the goddess that no one besides Mr. Diels was harmed.
"After careful investigation by the knights and I, we have identified the responsible party. The evidence and testimony you will hear today confirms that it must be Harrison Weitmann. As a servant of the Church tasked with cleaning and maintaining our fair monastery, Harrison has abandoned his duty. We don't know his motives, but suspicious foreigners like him, who harbor no love for the Church, must be dealt with appropriately. In the end, there is no room for doubt that he is responsible for this heinous act. I urge you, Lady Rhea, to eliminate this traitor and threat to our Church immediately.
In a cruel twist of irony, the biggest threat to the Church in this room is not me, but the girl beside me, who I'm trusting to help get me off the hook here.
"Thank you, Catherine," Rhea says. "I will allow the accused or his advocate time for a brief statement of their own. Are you ready to proceed?"
"The defense is ready, Your Eminence," Edelgard says.
Edelgard turns to me, and nods. I nod back, and bite my lip. Everything is in her hands now.
"With all due respect, Dame Catherine's statement does not tell the whole story. It is impossible to arrive at a comprehensive understanding of the truth behind this incident. when the fate of the item and the motives of the main suspect are completely unknown. There can be no doubt that such a hasty investigation has yielded incomplete evidence, and we aim to show exactly where her case falls short."
I like her confidence, but I'm hardly certain that we can conclusively disprove anything.
She continues. "The accusation we are considering is mistaken, unfounded, and fallacious. While justice ought to be served for such a crime, leaping to conclusions when lives—and the integrity of the Church—are at stake is a crime of its own. To quote the Revelation, the Goddess receives all. Therefore, I, for one, would not be so quick to throw away any life on such thin grounds."
I find myself a little surprised with that flourish at the end. Quoting scripture to the Archbishop requires balls of steel, and you'll need to upgrade those to tungsten carbide if you take into account that we're talking about Saint Seiros herself here—a fact which Edelgard is well aware of. But still, I'm pleased with her opening statement. Firm, without being too combative. Everything said was true, while omitting what we hope to be the coup de grace: finding out what Caius Goneril is really after. I just hope she hasn't overpromised on things we won't be able to deliver when the critical moment comes.
Rhea barely acknowledges Edelgard's statement, with only the slightest of nods. "Catherine, you may continue by calling your witnesses."
"Understood, Your Eminence," Catherine says. "I'd like to call Lieutenant of the Holy Guard Shamir Nevrand to testify about what our investigation has uncovered so far."
"Very well," Rhea says. "Dame Shamir, you may come to the stand."
Shamir does as she's asked, getting up and standing off to the side from Rhea and facing the rest of the room. She's got a bit of a scowl on her face, as if she thinks this whole thing is a waste of her time.
"Do you swear to tell the truth, in accordance with the goddess's eternal commandments?" Rhea asks.
"I do," Shamir replies.
"Then you may begin."
Shamir crosses her arms. "Alright. I won't repeat what Catherine already said. You'll hear about the assault from the other witnesses, so I'll focus on the break-in and theft. First, we found signs of tampering with the lock to Lady Rhea's chambers. Makes sense, given that it's the only way in or out of the room. Whoever is behind this picked the lock, entered, and stole the hairpiece. The floor of the Archbishop's chambers is kept spotless, so the dirty boots the culprit was wearing left tracks. The shoeprints at the crime scene match the standard worker's boots worn by the accused—so it could easily be him."
I swallow hard. I mean, I didn't speak to Shamir very much, and I appreciate the modicum of consideration in using "the culprit" and "whoever is behind this"—but it still hurts to be accused just because of my goddamn shoes. But given that there are more witnesses—that guard and Goneril, I suppose—it's probably not just my shoes.
"Thank you for your time, Dame Shamir," Rhea says. "You are dismissed."
"Wait, Archbishop Rhea!" Edelgard says. "The defense requests—no, demands—the opportunity to question the witness."
"Are you accusing Shamir of lying?" Catherine says, furrowing her brow. "Or calling into question the integrity of the entire investigation?"
Edelgard shakes her head. "We are doing neither. I just want to get as much information as possible from Dame Shamir. We are not trying to question the integrity of the investigation, but to understand exactly what it has—and has not—found."
Well, I should hope we're trying to question the integrity of the investigation, otherwise I don't think there's much hope for me! But I understand the game Edelgard's playing. And I know exactly what kind of doubts she's trying to raise.
"I will allow you to question the witness," Rhea says. "You may begin, Miss Hresvelg."
"Thank you, Archbishop Rhea," she says. "Dame Shamir. First of all, allow me to confirm: have you found the missing hairpiece yet?"
"No," Shamir replies.
"Did you search his room?"
"We did," Shamir replies. "And didn't find anything of the sort. We thought he might have pawned the hairpiece off to some shady merchant, but we didn't find any money, either. Just some foreign clothes."
"But that doesn't mean he didn't do it," Catherine interjects. "And besides, we've never seen anything like those clothes. That's awfully suspicious."
"I object to this line of reasoning," Edelgard replies. "Simply being a foreigner is not the crime Harrison is accused of. Let's focus on the subject at hand."
Rhea nods. "That is correct—we must not lose sight of our purpose here today. You may continue, Miss Hresvelg."
Catherine bristles a bit but doesn't say anything.
"Now then, Dame Shamir," Edelgard continues. "You said that the shoeprints were made by worker's boots. But did you specifically check Harrison's boots against the suspect footprints?"
Before Shamir can respond, Catherine jumps back into the fray. "Are you really suggesting there's going to be a telltale difference?"
"So I take it the answer is no?"
Shamir frowns. "We didn't."
I swear I see the slightest of smirks form on Edelgard's face. She takes her small notebook and flips open to a sketch of the crime scene footprints and mine compared on opposite sides.
"Well, I did take the time to compare the two. You can see that the footprints do not exactly match—the wear pattern on the tread is different." Rhea motions for her to come forward, and she dutifully hands Rhea the book. "If you do not trust my sketch, Archbishop Rhea and Dame Catherine, please send one of the knights to confirm it."
Rhea says nothing as she studies the sketch. What are the odds that Edelgard's got some Flame Emperor plans written in there also? Probably zero, she's definitely not sloppy enough to make that mistake. Or maybe she writes those in some kind of coded shorthand or burns all her papers when she's done with them. Whatever else you might want to say about her, Edelgard is good. And it's good to have that competence on my side.
Catherine gets a look at the sketch also, and weighs in before Rhea issues any kind of judgement. "I guess there are these differences, but—you can't just say he's innocent based on these little details. That's hardly identifying. Maybe he even switched out his boots for someone else's!"
"If that's the case, then you can't claim he's guilty based on just the footprints, either. They're functionally meaningless," Edelgard rebuts, her voice growing louder over the hushed whispers of the gallery.
"But he—"
Rhea taps the floor twice with her sword. "Both points are well taken," she says. "With no further methods of analysis, it appears we are at an impasse."
I knew this would happen. It's not convincing enough either way, and Catherine does have a good point that those boots not belonging to me doesn't mean I didn't wear them at any point. After all, we're arguing that Professor Goneril stole them.
"Archbishop Rhea?" a new voice speaks up.
All heads turn to look at the person who broke the silence: Manuela, of all people.
Rhea furrows her brow. "Professor Manuela?" she asks, her normally even-keeled voice betraying some confusion. "Is something the matter?"
"I apologize for speaking out of turn," Manuela says, clasping her hands in front of her. "But I couldn't help but realize that there is another piece of information that could be gathered from examining the footprints."
"Oh?" Rhea asks. "Please elaborate, Professor."
I furrow my brow. I'm not sure where she's going with this, though I'm flattered she's willing to put herself on the line for this. I look to Edelgard for some kind of guidance, but I don't find any change in her expression. I can't tell if that's good or bad.
"Thank you, Lady Rhea," Manuela replies. "If Dame Catherine and the knights have not cleaned up the crime scene yet, then this will be relevant. The distance between the footprints, the length of an individual's stride, is proportional to that individual's height. It's possible to use one to estimate the other."
Oh, that's true! The correlation isn't exact, but depending on the stride length, that might absolve me. I can't remember if Caius Goneril is actually taller than me, or just being in his presence makes me feel small, so I glance over in his direction. I can't exactly make out his height from over here, but it seems like he might be.
Edelgard picks up what Manuela is putting down as well. "All that we would need would be to measure the stride length, use that to determine the height of whoever made them, and see how that compares to Harrison's height."
Catherine interrupts. "This is a colossal waste of time! The knights and I have already performed a thorough investigation, as is our duty. Professors and students shouldn't be telling us how to do our job. Now, we have to be moving on to other, more important forms of evidence—"
"I'm speaking not as a professor but as a doctor," Manuela replies coolly. "The Imperial college of physicians has studied these quirks of the human body for a long time, at the behest of the Ministry of the Interior. After all, since cutting open the chest or the head is forbidden, my contemporaries have had to get creative when it comes to finding evidence to solve crimes. If you don't believe me, I'd be happy to retrieve the treatises on the subject from my office."
"What the Empire does is one thing," Catherine replies. "But what matters at the end of the day is if Her Eminence allows you to continue with this pointless charade, and I implore her not to."
Rhea quiets the growing chatter among the gallery with a crescendoing succession of taps from her sheathed sword. Everything comes down to this—if Rhea's willing to throw us a bone here, we might have a chance of defeating the whole accusation right here.
"Enough!" Rhea says. "I have every reason to trust that Professor Manuela is speaking from a place of honesty and good intentions. After all, I understand that she was very cooperative with the investigation. Therefore, I declare this tribunal to be in recess for a short time. I order Dame Catherine and her team to measure the footprints, while Professor Manuela procures the relevant texts from her office. The accused and his advocate are to remain here. Dame Shamir, you are dismissed. Are there any objections?"
Catherine sighs, and just shakes her head.
"We have no objections, Archbishop Rhea," Edelgard replies.
"Very well," Rhea says. "Then this tribunal is temporarily adjourned, and will resume once the relevant information has been found. Dame Catherine, Professor Manuela, please complete your tasks posthaste!"
And with a tap of the sword, Catherine and the knights leave the room with Manuela in tow. I sigh and make eye contact with Edelgard, neither of us saying a word. Soon after, more and more people excuse themselves from the room - Rhea and Professor Goneril included. It doesn't take more than a few minutes before it's just me, Edelgard, some guards, and a few other people who I don't recognize remaining in the courtroom.
"That was some pretty good ground game," I say to Edelgard. "Catherine was ready to just bowl over the details of the footprints entirely until you held her up."
"Thank you," she replies. "Still, it might not be enough if the footprints suggest that the person who made them is your height." She adjusts her gloves.
I shake my head. "I guess you're right," I say. "But—"
"I know what you're thinking," she cuts me off, quietly but firmly. "We must be patient. After all, Catherine said there's still more evidence and eyewitness testimony to consider. No doubt we'll have to outmaneuver her there as well."
I sigh again. "If just getting the Archbishop to look at some footprints was that much of a hassle, then we're in for a long fight, aren't we? And we haven't even prepared ourselves for what that guard or Professor Goneril has to say."
Edelgard nods. "It will be a long fight. But remember: a long fight ultimately plays to our advantage."
Right. We need to buy time for Claude to work his magic—or find it, if whatever's in those vials is magic after all.
A/N: Hi everyone! I hope this chapter was good. I apologize for this chapter taking so long, but as TDB can certainly attest to, it took more than a few tries to get it right, and I've been dealing with all sorts of real life stuff like finishing up my final semester, graduating, and finding a job, all of which has been time consuming. Still I hope the wait was worth it.
So thank you all for being very patient and I hope to update more frequently once I settle into a routine with my new job. Your out of context TDB quote is: "I seek coziness in all things, including subconsciously my own tone [of voice] apparently."
If you enjoyed the fic please review/follow/favorite! Also, come hang out on our Discord server with TDB and Syn and me: discord . gg / A27Ngyj (remove spaces). I can also be found occasionally at the Fanfiction Treehouse server, discord . gg / 9XG3U7a . Hope to see you guys around!
And now, for review responses:
ArgoDevilian - Well, if Edelgard and Harrison can prove Caius responsible, maybe karma will arrive a bit early... but that's a big if, given how the court has been biased against them so far.
Austrichh - That's true that it's obvious to Harrison and the readers (which was intentional) but that doesn't mean it will be easy to establish in court.
ishygddt456 and eseer - Thanks for the reviews - I'm not sure if making it a dream would be more of an ass pull, or if the reality itself is too much of an ass pull! But hopefully things have started to make more sense in this chapter.
CaellachTigerEye - Thanks for the detailed review as always. I won't rehash the discussion we had in PMs here but I always appreciate your analysis of the character dynamics that are at work.
NihthKuro - Well, that's quite the detailed analysis you've got there. I laughed when you said "I've learned as a reader that speculation on the narrator's part is usually incorrect and/or the exact opposite of what they thought." I'll just say as a writer that if the narrator is always able to predict what's going on, it definitely takes the fun away from it! Though I try not to use that as a reason to write a character in an unintelligent way. I'm curious how the new information in this chapter has changed (or confirmed) your ideas of what exactly is in the vials. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!
Petra Anderson - I haven't watched Charmed, so I had to look up a quick synopsis of it - and it didn't seem like that relationship ended well for the parties involved, so... just saying, haha.
R3Kt4MnY - Thanks for the review. I hope this chapter answered some of your questions and raised some new ones!
Random Reader Guy - I actually laughed out loud at "liquid weed stash".
patattack - Thanks for the review!
CaptainSidekick - It's an oversimplification of events, but yes.
Ghep - Thanks for the review! Well, I could always just have a summary execution for Harrison, and it would probably be edgy and subversive but not very fun, I don't think. So it's just a question of how Edelgard, Harrison and Claude get out of this one.
Remvis - I'm curious to hear how your thoughts on these questions might've changed given the new info in this chapter. Thanks for the review!
The Dragon Lover - Thanks for the review and I'm glad you enjoyed it! Don't worry about missing reviews I'm just always happy to hear when you (and everyone else) does review!
heavenschoir - Thank you so much for the review!
DestructionDragon360 - Thanks for the review! More wacky attorney hijinks to come, naturally, but I hope this was a good appetizer.
TheGiantRock - Thanks! Hopefully it will be memorable for the right reasons!
VirusChris - Thanks so much for the review and it's great to hear from you again! To be honest I don't think I have any "weird ideas" about "pairing Harrison with young maidens", it's more that he gets along well with characters who are earnest and kind, and has more difficulty with those who have an axe to grind. Interesting theories on Caius, but I can't say more than that right now!
Wing - I don't plan on completely bashing either or, but as you said, I think it's natural for Harrison to be a bit skeptical of the Church given what he has to hide right now.
Cavik - Thanks for the review!
TechManuel - Interesting theory - I wonder if it's changed in light of any new evidence?
Takedo - Thanks for the review, and I hope this chapter started to clear things up - unfortunately, part of the rules of the game is that Catherine gets to keep what she wants under wraps, so she still has some cards up her sleeve.
Mr. War - I hope the surprise was a good one. Though to be honest, I'm not sure this is as much of a canon-shaking event as you think it might be - though we'll have to see as things develop.
Scoolio - Thanks for the review!
Placeholder - We'll see! The case is far from over.
DemonRaily - Thank you so much, I'm glad you're enjoying the story!
Rationalism - Thanks for the reviews! I won't touch the more ... inflammatory parts of the review, I'll leave the others to debate that, haha.
EnderSoul1401 - Thank you! Earthborne was a big learning experience for me and I'm hoping to
Maronmario - Thanks for the review!
Scorpio-Rat - Thank you for the detailed reviews! Honestly, I'm glad you picked up on not trusting Claude... no shade at him, but the fandom perception of him seems to really underestimate how sketchy he can be at times even when he's being perfectly friendly on the surface. Again, not saying he's a bad guy, but he can be a little suspicious.
sublimey - Thank you so much for the detailed reviews and for getting me over to 200! I'm glad to hear that you appreciate the character writing and worldbuilding in particular, since those are some of the aspects I take the most care and pride in.
Death Knight's Crowbar - Thank you for the series of reviews! I'm curious what your thoughts on Caius Goneril are now after the developments in this chapter.
Guest - Thanks for the review and I'm glad you're enjoying the fic! I'm not really planning on having crossover stuff be a big part of the fic, so my answer is to not expect anything like that, but that's a very creative idea!
Bomg - The fic does live!
DarwenGwein - Thanks for the review! I hope this chapter didn't disappoint after the cliffhanger!
jabraha - Thank you so much for the review! Future knowledge will definitely be more important once Byleth enters the picture, but for now, Harrison's just along for the ride, haha.
Nom - Thanks for the review! I'm curious how your thoughts have changed with the advent of all the new information!