Moments later, Phoenix, Maya and Sycamore entered the defendant's lobby, only to be greeted by a familiar face.

"Professor Layton?!" Phoenix said with surprise. "I thought you weren't coming until later."

The man in the top hat nodded. "That was my initial plan. However, it would seem I was unable to convince someone to go with me."

Sycamore's face fell. "Then that means...a certain young lady is still rather angry with me."

"You must understand, Desmond-"

"I do, better than anyone. The day I discovered the man I had admired all my life was anything but admirable, I could scarcely contain my rage. What Flora feels about me... she has every right. We had a bond, and I destroyed it with the sins of my past."

"Who's Flora?" asked Maya.

"An orphan girl that Layton has chosen to foster. I regret our last meeting..." Sycamore almost looked depressed, recalling the memory.

"She was angry, as you put it," Layton said. "I tried to reason with her, but she threw herself into school activities that were... shall we say... not previously planned."

"Ouch," said Phoenix. "I get that the idea of you being in prison is terrible, Mr. Sycamore, but why is Flora that upset?"

"To tell you the truth...I, too, had been looking after her as I would my own daughter," Sycamore replied. "Because of that, I'm not pleased with how I handled everything. I just thought that if I proceeded with my plan and turned myself in, that it would wound less. It...hasn't. I can imagine how she feels."

"I warned you this would happen, Desmond," Layton told him. "I have been trying to provide Flora with as much stability as possible, considering her past. The last thing she needs is one more person promising to guide her, and then failing to follow through on that promise."

Sycamore looked ruffled by the remark. "Layton," he started, somewhat irked, "you may be my brother, but that does not mean it is your duty to lecture me."

Maya's jaw dropped. "Wh-what?!"

"Professor Layton!" Phoenix exclaimed, equally shocked. "You... you two are brothers?!"

"We are," Layton replied. "Though it was only in the last year we reconnected. We were close as children, but an incident left us orphaned, and adopted by different families."

"Oh..." Maya brought a hand to her mouth. "That's so sad. But at least you found each other again."

"It isn't that," Sycamore told her. "I deliberately kept my distance, for my own reasons. I didn't... I didn't want Layton caught up in the evil forces that tore our family apart. I knew if we met, he would put two and two together. In the end, I failed to prevent this meeting...he eventually was drawn to my world, and of his own accord."

"I've always wondered how true that was," Layton said. "For the longest time, I turned away from archaeology. I thought...I simply had no interest in it. But a friend awakened that interest, and then... something stirred within me, something I couldn't explain...a long, forgotten feeling from the past. I thought I had been pursuing archaeology to honor my friend, but it was more than that. I had realized my true purpose. It was inevitable Desmond and I would meet again, and face the truth and tragedy of our past."

"I am truly sorry I initiated that meeting as my worst self, Layton."

"I know, Desmond. But that, too, was inevitable. You had suffered additional losses that even the strongest would find difficult to bear. What Targent and Bronev did to you, you did not deserve. I just...I just wish you had reached out to me earlier."

Desmond nodded sadly. "Yes. I see how wrong I was now. Your help would have been invaluable even back then. We might have stopped Targent sooner..."

"Uhh..." Phoenix chuckled nervously. "I don't mean to interrupt, but we do need to get a move on. Half an hour and all."

"Oh, yes. What did you need, Mr. Wright?"

"Information about the costume. That engineer said you were in disguise when you ordered him to build those machines. Can you describe what you wore, and if you happen to have any spare costumes lying around?"

"W-well..." Sycamore exchanged a look with Layton. "I did have spare costumes on the Bostonius, but when I examined the wreckage site, I could only salvage a few pieces. Not enough to complete a recognizable outfit."

"So, basically, no one can prove you were the one in disguise at the time?"

"Oh, no, there is one completed outfit currently in the police's possession. A dark business suit with matching tie, dress shirt ruffled at the wrists, dark dress shoes with a white toe. A feather boa and cape, white mask and dark hat with ear flaps. I wore this ensemble as I turned myself in. In other words, the police already have evidence I have presented myself as 'Jean Descole'."

"Who?" Maya asked.

"Descole, the masked man that the engineer mentioned," Phoenix told her, then turned back to Sycamore. "Okay, so...Flynch needs evidence you were going around as Descole, the scientist who was blackmailing the engineer. Are you willing to give him that?"

Sycamore nodded without hesitation. "Yes, Mr. Wright. As I told you, the entire story must be revealed. There are several in this country that would rest well, knowing the man who tormented them and their loved ones was dealt with in a swift and satisfying manner."

Is it just me, or is he almost pushing for this, like he's eager to punish himself? Phoenix thought, a vaguely familiar feeling coming to him. "All right. Maya and I will head for the prosecutor's lobby. Professor Layton, will you stay here with Mr. Sycamore?"

"Of course, Mr. Wright," Layton replied.

"So this is what the prosecutor's side is like," remarked Maya and she and Phoenix walked down the corridor. "I wonder which lobby Flynch will-"

"Aaaarrggghhh!"

"Number two," Phoenix replied nonchalantly, recognizing Flynch's high-pitched outbursts.

Approaching the entrance, Maya grabbed the handle and slowly pulled open one of the doors. Inside, a visibly upset Flynch was kneeling on the floor, frantically collecting papers and other items that had spilled onto the floor. Nearby was an open brown case, along with its severed handle.

Ooh, thought Phoenix. That's bad luck. He cleared his throat. "Err...Mr. Flynch, are you all right? Maya and I heard a scream."

"What?!" Flynch paused briefly to look up, red-faced and on the verge of perspiring. "Oh. Mr. Wright, so you came."

"I'm here too," Maya retorted, annoyed at the omission.

"Yes, yes. I was moving my case to the chair here when this cheap lock came loose! Everything fell out, and before I could curse my luck, the sodding handle broke off as well! As you can see, I have many things to gather up."

"We'll help you." Phoenix stepped forward and knelt down in front of a scattered set of papers, as well as a few mementos.

"Oh, well...thank you."

"Don't mention it." Phoenix was stacking together sheets when Maya nudged him.

"Hey. Hey Nick. Check it out." In her hand was a photograph of an older woman, one who had been captured at an unfortunate angle. "It says 'Ida Flynch' on the back. Think he comes home to her every night?"

If he does, then woof, Phoenix thought in reflex. "I don't know, Maya. Just pick up those pens and tablets and give it all back to the guy."

"What are you two whispering about?" Flynch demanded. "I would appreciate it if you would refrain from looking at my case materials!"

"Huh? Oh, no, no... it's just, Maya found this picture of your wife and I wanted to make sure it wasn't damaged."

"Picture...wife...?" Flynch asked, puzzled at first. When it connected for him, he rose to his feet, an appalled expression on his face. "Mr. Wright! That is a photograph of my dear departed mother! What makes you think I would even..."

Phoenix quickly held up his free palm, taken aback. "Wh-whoa! I didn't mean anything by it, really! She just looked kind of young to be your mom, is all."

That appeared to calm the prosecutor down. "Oh, well, it has been fifteen years since her passing. She was my greatest inspiration, you see. You could say she picked my career path."

"Mama's boy," Maya said under her breath.

Phoenix quietly shushed her. Then, to Flynch, he said, "I'm sorry to hear of her passing. What about your father? Is he still alive?"

"No," Flynch replied. "He died five years before she did. She never did remarry, or even think of finding anyone else."

"Probably too busy keeping you a mama's boy," Maya murmured.

Phoenix burst into awkward, high-pitched laughter, in the hopes of masking his companion's comment. "Oh, wow! I guess they were really in love, huh? I mean it's unfortunate they died as young as they did, but it's rare these days to hear a couple taking 'until death do us part' seriously."

Flynch knelt back down and picked up several folders full of case material. "You're so right, Mr. Wright. When I think of the sheer number of divorce settlements I've handled these last few years, it does seem rare."

Phoenix and Maya approached the man, handing him their collection.

"Anyway," started Phoenix. "I have a message from my client. The costume you were trying to find is already in custody of the police. You'll need to get in touch with the person who handles evidence at Scotland Yard. They'll know what you're talking about, because Mr. Sycamore actually turned himself in while wearing the disguise."

"Oh?" Flynch raised an eyebrow. "That wasn't on the report I received. How do I know I can trust you?"

"Go ahead and talk to the inspector who was on the Azran case. An Inspector...Grosky, I believe?" Now that I think about it, it's weird he isn't here. "He'll tell you whether I'm lying or not. What do you have to lose?"

"Well...aren't you forthcoming with information today? If...if what you say is true, then thank you. Why you would hammer another nail into your client's coffin isn't any concern of mine, I suppose."

"I don't care for your attitude, Mr. Flynch," Phoenix said, "but you're welcome. See you in a few minutes. Come on, Maya."

"This court will now reconvene..." The judge trailed off, noticing the man standing awkwardly behind the prosecutor's bench, appearing greatly flustered.

"What's up with Flynch?" Maya asked.

Phoenix shrugged slightly. "Who knows? Maybe he didn't like what the police had to tell him."

"Mr. Flynch?" asked the judge. "Is the prosecution ready?"

"Two days, my shoe!" squeaked the man. "Inspector Grosky's missing, the evidence is locked away... I'd already planned out my witnesses! I can't have the court missing out on crucial testimony because someone refuses to do their job! Aaargh!" Then, seeing that all attention was on him, Flynch composed himself quickly, clearing his throat. "Ah, yes. The prosecution is ready, Your Honor. Albeit, ah, with some unforeseen changes."

The judge nodded. "I see. Mr. Wright?"

"The defense is ready, Your Honor," Phoenix replied.

"Before the recess, you mentioned knowing the location of your client's disguise. Shall I assume you've imparted this information to Mr. Flynch?"

"Yes, and it sounds like it's giving him trouble."

"But it's nothing I can't handle, I assure you," Flynch cut in.

"Weren't you just picking yourself up off the floor a few seconds ago?" Maya murmured dryly.

"According to Mr. Wright's report, his client's disguise is in possession of the police. Unfortunately, at this time, they have not completed analysis, and it will be two days before we can obtain the disguise."

"In other words," said the judge, "Since you are unable to produce this disguise, your witness' testimony was a waste of time."

"N-no, not at all, Your Honor!" Flynch exclaimed. "Ugh, why does he keep saying that...? We at least know the extent of the culprit's crimes. Verifying the identity of this 'Descole' will occur once we are in possession of his disguise. In the meantime, I have at least five more witnesses waiting to testify in regards to the Misthallery incident."

Great, thought Phoenix.

"Very well, Mr. Flynch. Please call your next witness."

An attractive young woman appeared at the witness' chair moments later. With long brown hair and a warm smile, there was a familiar air about her.

"Witness, please state your name and profession for the court," Flynch instructed.

"Brenda Triton," the woman stated. "I'm a housewife and mother, though I also travel and conduct research in my spare time."

"Triton..." Maya whispered. "Hey Nick, do you think...?"

Phoenix nodded. "There's definitely a resemblance, so you're probably right."

Flynch adjusted his specs, which had slid halfway down the bridge of his nose. "Mrs. Triton, do you know the defendant, Mr. Desmond Sycamore?"

"I met him once," she replied, expression unchanging. "Professor Hershel Layton introduced us. But even if he hadn't, Mr. Sycamore has also acquired some fame as a professor within the world of archaeology."

"And are you aware of the crimes Mr. Sycamore has been charged with?"

Brenda nodded. "Yes, I am."

"Mrs. Triton, you were abducted nearly four years ago, correct?"

"Yes. My family and I were living in Misthallery then."

"Please testify to the court about this incident."

"Of course. It all started when when our butler, Doland Noble, began to display some odd behaviors. When I attempted to investigate, he managed to trap me beneath the floor of our house's wine cellar. Imagine my surprise when I found the real Doland tied up there! The man disguised as Doland had been carrying out his own investigation of the town and its surroundings, but couldn't do it openly. Because of this, my husband and son greatly suffered, as did other residents of the town."

The judge took a moment to absorb the testimony. "So a man kidnapped you and your butler and kept you in a wine cellar, and was also impersonating the butler. I see..." He glanced over at the defense. "Mr. Wright, you may proceed with the cross-examination."

"Yes, Your Honor," said Phoenix. "Mrs. Triton, you mentioned that your butler 'began to display some odd behaviors.' What did you mean by that?"

"Oh, just things here and there," Brenda told him. "For example, he would forget about traditions we had celebrated for years. His penmanship suddenly turned illegible, and he began spending an unusual amount of time with my husband Clark. For a while, I feared he was overworked, or possibly ill. He wasn't himself... and it seems that part was true."

"Did you know anything about what the impostor intended at the time?"

"No. When I thought he was Doland, I overheard part of a conversation he was having on the telephone. He mentioned 'Highyard Hill' and 'Barde Manor' but nothing else. I had no idea of the scope of the plot he had been carrying out these last few years."

"You said your family and the residents of the town suffered. Was it due to this plot?"

"Yes," Brenda replied. "Clark threw himself into his work more than usual, and other times he seemed distracted. My son Luke grew increasingly withdrawn as the night attacks began. Incidentally, he speaks highly of you, Mr. Wright."

"He's a good kid, Mrs. Triton, and will undoubtedly be a true gentleman. But about these attacks... can you go into detail?"

"At first, it appeared that a monster was wreaking havoc in the streets of our town. Many mistakenly believed it was the specter from the town's legend."

"Why is that?"

"According to the legend, the specter, summoned by song, would appear in the fog. When these attacks took place, the town was blanketed in a thick fog, and we would hear a melody being played on an ocarina. Afterward, the specter would withdraw... at least until the next incident."

Phoenix nodded. "So Luke kept to himself because he was scared of the specter?"

"At first. Then, after I was kidnapped, Clark said that Luke rarely left his room. As for Clark, he knew that I had been abducted, but the man posing as Doland threatened harm to me and Doland if Clark did not go along with his plans."

"It is public knowledge that the 'specter' was in fact the excavation machines locked in battle with a large creature from the nearby lake. The machines were attempting to dig into the streets while the creature was doing what she could to stop them."

"You did your homework, Mr. Wright," Brenda remarked. "Yes, the truth was not as simple as it seemed. Still, the citizens of Misthallery were terrified by these events. It was a miracle no human lives were lost, considering the damage to the buildings. It took over a year to rebuild according to the new mayor."

"In other words," a smug Flynch interjected, "Mr. Sycamore terrorized the citizens of Misthallery while causing ruin to their beloved town. In addition to that, he caused this innocent woman and her family much distress. Yet another family put to the test because of the callousness of your client, Mr. Wright. Do you see a pattern?"

"Objection!" Phoenix shouted. "Mr. Flynch, my client has already pleaded guilty. We are not here to establish whether or not he terrorized a town or caused harm to people."

"I realize that, Mr. Wright. What you don't seem to realize is the damage being done to your case should you decide to appeal."

He's right, thought Phoenix. Mr. Sycamore needs to have his side told, but that doesn't mean I should let his character be thoroughly destroyed. "Witness," he continued, turning back to Brenda, "You mentioned being locked in the wine cellar with your butler. Can you give more details about the ordeal?"

"Well, just before the impostor led me to the cellar, he served me tea. He must have put something in my cup, because I started to feel faint. The next thing I knew, I was beneath the floor with Doland calling to me."

"How was the impostor during this time? Did he do anything to you, other than kidnap you?"

"Well, no. He occasionally visited to make sure we were fed, and would ignore our questions about Clark and Luke. We couldn't get anything out of him."

"So aside from being locked up, the two of you were in good health?"

"Physically, yes. Otherwise, we were stressed out about the situation."

The exchange only amused the prosecution. "Mr. Wright," Flynch said, chuckling. "Surely you are not suggesting that your client only had good intentions, or that he suddenly had a change of heart?"

"No, Mr. Flynch," Phoenix retorted. "But unlike you, I recognize that humans are complex, and their situations complicated, even with behavioral patterns. Now, do you have other concerns, or may I continue this line of questioning?"

Flynch was stunned. "I... urk...!"

Phoenix turned back to the witness. "Mrs. Triton, it must have been harrowing, to say the least, and I don't intend to minimize your experience in any way, but did anything seem out of the ordinary, that you can think of?"

"Well..." The woman mulled over her response. "I was mostly worried for Clark and Luke. I feared what Doland's impostor might possibly do to them."

"Why is that out of the ordinary?"

"It didn't even occur to me that he could have caused harm to me as well. He was a frightening presence, but he never once laid a hand on Doland or me."

"One last thing...the man who kidnapped you and Doland...do you see him in the courtroom today?"

"No," said Brenda. "The man who kept us in that cellar always kept his face hidden. I only saw him as Doland and no one else. If Professor Sycamore is that man, then I have no way of confirming that."

Phoenix nodded. "Thank you, Mrs. Triton. No further questions."

"Mr. Flynch?" said the judge. "Was there anything else you needed to add?"

"No, Your Honor," Flynch replied, having recovered from his earlier shock. "I believe we have sufficiently established that this 'Doland impostor' committed multiple crimes within Misthallery. Unfortunately, we are still waiting on decisive evidence which connects Mr. Desmond Sycamore to this impostor. In the meantime, I would also like to mention just how far back this plot went."

Uh-oh, thought Phoenix. I don't like where this is going...

"You see, in the year before the nightly attacks began, a well-known resident of Misthallery experienced a fatal fall. His name was Evan Barde, and he left behind two children."

"How tragic!" exclaimed the judge.

"Indeed, Your Honor. In the months following Mr. Barde's death, which initially was ruled a suicide, Mr. Sycamore here plotted with the former police chief, Levin Jakes, to change Mr. Barde's will. This caused his estate to go to Clark Triton instead of the Barde children. The children were left by themselves, and forced to dismiss the house staff one by one, due to dwindling funds."

"Outrageous! To steal from those poor children..."

"Outrageous and true," Flynch said. "Mr. Sycamore obviously wanted the fortune to go to a person under his control, so that he could access it from the shadows when the time came. Such a cruel thing to do, when Mr. Barde clearly intended the entirety of his estate to go his children..." He looked at Phoenix. "Well, Mr. Wright? What do you have to say? Can you still defend a man who would steal from orphaned children in their most vulnerable state?"

The courtroom only seemed to echo the judge's reaction.

"I wonder how much of that is actually true," Phoenix said when it quieted down.

"Wh-what?" asked Flynch.

"I won't deny that Mr. Sycamore had the police chief change the will. But you keep saying that the late Mr. Barde intended to leave everything to his kids. What proof do you have of that?"

"What are you saying?! Who else would he list as recipients of the estate?!"

"In other words, you don't know? Didn't you see the original will?"

Flynch grew flustered. "Uh...well, that is..." He shook his head. "Your Honor! What the defense is asking is irrelevant! Clearly, he is attempting to steer us away from the matter at hand, by bringing up trifling details such as what was in the original will."

"I'm not so sure such details are trifling, Mr. Flynch," stated the judge. "Still, Mr. Wright, if you don't have a compelling reason to find out what was written in the original will, you will end this pursuit, here and now."

"Y-yes, Your Honor. I say that only Mr. Barde can answer what was on the original will. Mr. Flynch intends to paint my client as a heartless individual with no regard for the well-being of grieving children. If we could get a copy..."

"No copies exist, Mr. Wright," Flynch told him. "So sorry to have to stop your pathetic attempt to stall this trial, but Chief Jakes destroyed the original will and all its copies."

Damn it, thought Phoenix. I was sure there was something there...

Phoenix's reaction amused Flynch. "I see you were counting on the existence of this will. Such a pity." He began to cackle. "As you said, the only way to find out is to ask Mr. Barde himself! Very small chance of that happening."

"Small chance, huh?" Maya suddenly murmured.

"What did you say, young lady?" Flynch was caught off guard at first, but then relaxed. "Oh, is this another attempt at distraction? Allow me to humor you. The prosecution will allow testimony from Mr. Barde... when it becomes possible to bring the dead back to life! So you'd better get started on that; otherwise, we should end the trial right here."

Someone's going to regret his words later, thought Phoenix.

"Now, as I was saying, there is no will, and there is no way...that we can ever know what Mr. Barde originally intended. Because when you look at the facts-"

"Oh, my sweet Rhuby-kins. You were always one for cold, hard facts."

"Well, Mum, I couldn't very well call myself a barrister if I wasn't, now could I? After all, I-" Flynch stopped cold as the exchange registered. Eyes widening, he slowly turned his face toward the defense's bench, hardly believing what he beheld.

To Phoenix, it was no shock; on occasion, the woman at his side altered her appearance for counsel's sake. This time, she stood nearly at his height, her robes wrapped around a figure twice her usual size. Wow...I can't believe she committed that face to memory already.

"Wh-wha..." Flynch's expression was frozen in horror as he tried to make sense of the woman's sudden appearance. "This can't...can't be..."

"I'm so proud of you, my Rhuby-wooby. Still at it after all these years."

Sweat trickled down the side of the man's brow. Something resembling a cross between a whimper and squeak escaped his mouth. "M... Mu..." He began trembling uncontrollably. "Uh...uuuuuwwwwwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrgggghhhhhh!" Flynch stumbled backward and spun around, running toward the courtroom's exit at an incredible speed.

Fifteen minutes later, Phoenix, Sycamore, Layton, and the woman possessing Maya's body were gathered in the defense lobby.

"Oh dear," said the woman, looking somber. "I'm afraid I've rather spooked my little Rhuby. Will he be all right?"

"I don't know, Mrs. Flynch," Phoenix replied. "They found him outside just a short while ago, huddled behind a bush, and standing in a puddle."

"I didn't realize it was raining," Sycamore said.

"It isn't," Phoenix told him, casting him a look.

"Ah." Sycamore gave a nod in understanding.

"Mr. Wright," Layton cut in, "Can you explain what, exactly, has transpired here?"

"Oh, uh...yeah, I guess this never really came up in Labyrinthia. Well, you know that Maya is a spirit medium, right?"

"Yes, I believe she mentioned something like that."

"Well, there are mediums who claim to talk to the dead, and then...there's this. Basically, Maya descends from a long line of mediums who can physically channel spirits, to the extent that she can strongly resemble the spirit in his or her last physical living state. It sounds totally unbelievable, but...it's hard to deny when you see it in front of you like this."

"Fascinating," Layton said, looking to be mulling over something. "And you say she is currently channeling the mother of Prosecutor Flynch?"

"Oh, is that what this is all about?" the woman asked. "I wondered why I was suddenly back in the courtroom, cheering on my Rhuby-pie."

"Mrs. Flynch?"

She chuckled at Phoenix. "Oh, call me Ida."

"Ida," Phoenix started, "Why do you keep calling him Rhuby? Is that his name?"

"Goodness, no. Call it a term of endearment. My son loved my rhubarb pies as a child. Even as he became a man, he couldn't outgrow his fondness for the dessert. I was always making pies for him...up until I passed."

"What a delightful story," Layton commented. "Prosecutor Flynch undoubtedly had a special bond with you."

"Oh, that he did. We had tea five times a week, and he built a wing in his house just so that we could be closer."

Mama's boy, thought Phoenix.

"Forgive me, Mrs. Flynch," Sycamore cut in.

"Ida," the woman corrected.

"Ida, yes. May I borrow Mr. Wright for a while? There's something important I need to discuss with him."

"Oh, of course, dear. If everything my Rhuby says is true, you need all the help you can get."

"Uh..." Sycamore brushed off the comment. "I appreciate it." To Phoenix, he said, "What will happen now, Mr. Wright? That prosecutor doesn't appear ready to stand in a courtroom."

"Well, I left a message for the man in charge of the case," said Phoenix. "If he's not busy, he'll appoint another prosecutor to take Flynch's place. Otherwise...we may be waiting awhile. Oh, and all of this needs to be decided before the hour is up."

"That's less than thirty minutes away."

Phoenix nodded. "Yeah. Not sure where the next prosecutor will go from here, but for now, I'll need to rethink the 'Evan Barde' thing."

"Mr. Wright," said Sycamore. "I understand you were stalling for time..."

Phoenix fought the urge to gulp. Was it really that obvious?

"...but I can assure you, as someone who saw the original will, Evan Barde intended to leave everything to his children. I had Chief Jakes name Clark Triton as the sole inheritor."

"Yeah...I'm almost afraid to ask, but why did you do that? You knew those kids needed to be cared for."

Sycamore brought his gaze to the floor. "Honestly, Mr. Wright...I don't know. It's true I needed a lot of money to carry out my plot. Maybe I thought that leaving it all to Clark Triton would ensure this. But I swear, I didn't take any of it for myself. I will say I didn't anticipate the outcome...the children withdrawing, the townspeople leaving them alone, despite expressing concern for them. In the end, it seems my decision wasn't entirely a disaster..."

"Not half the disaster it could have been," said the male voice.

The group turned as a man with dark blond hair and a short beard walked into the room. Dressed in a blue business suit and a pale red tie, he bore a most serious expression.

I don't know what it is about this guy, thought Phoenix. But he's got a great sense of style.

"Clark!" Layton exclaimed. "It's good to see you again. How have you and Brenda been? I ran into Luke earlier this morning."

"Good to see you too, Hershel," Clark said. "We're...doing well. I feel blessed to be where I am today, with my family and friends, and working for a man generous enough to allow me to be here. How have you been, Hershel?"

"I've been better, but I've also been worse. Perhaps I should also count my blessings these days. You are all greatly missed."

"Thank you. I'll admit I find myself longing for this country at times, and the people I've come to know. But I wouldn't change anything about the path I've chosen." He turned to the bespectacled man beside Layton. "Professor Sycamore."

Sycamore hesitated, but nodded. "Doctor Triton."

"I came here for one reason, to trade words with you... or, perhaps, something considerably more violent. You would deserve it, after all." He paused, and his tone softened. "Or at least, that's what I kept telling myself until the moment I walked through those doors. Now I'm just...mystified. You don't conduct yourself in the manner of one who abducted Brenda and Doland, and blackmailed me. I would not even begin to surmise you were the man who made attempts on the lives of my son and my good friend here. You did nothing but terrorize the residents of my town, night after night, and yet... I can see it in your eyes – remorse, and resignation. I don't know if I can forgive what you've done, but I think I deserve to know why you did it."

"I..." Sycamore avoided the man's gaze. "It's...truthfully...everything...everything the prosecutor said about me is true. I wanted to be the one to discover the secret of the Azran. It had to be me. That's all I can say."

Clark took a moment to absorb the words, then he shook his head in disapproval. "It's a pity that you aren't half the liar your other self is." To Layton, he said, "Hershel, I don't know why you're here at his side, but since you are, I'm confident you have a good reason for it." He looked back to Sycamore. "Luke also told me you once risked your life to push him out of harm's way, and paid a price for it. And that when the world was threatened, you were all too eager to defend it. I don't think a man who simply seeks fame would have that kind of moral strength and character."

"Clark..." said Layton.

"It was good to see you, Hershel," Clark said. "You too...Mr. Wright, was it? And...madam, I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name, but it's a pleasure. Professor Sycamore...I pray you find what you seek in this trial. Good day."