[October 28th, 8:36 am, Detention Center]

Robin LeBlanc dug his hand into his pocket, watching the conversation. It wasn't his right to say anything at the moment, but he felt certain Morgan would want to speak when it was over.

Nino Cooper's blue eyes were small and tight under her emerald-green hair, but they were currently being pushed up by a smile. Her hairband had been removed for the moment, and the long curls of green cascaded down her face, some in wiry strands that showed she hadn't had a chance to straighten them since going to sleep. Her face wasn't one of fear, however—it was relief. Her cheeks were easier, softer, and her hands were no longer balled up with knuckle-pulling fury, they rested limply on the table in front of her as she spoke.

For her part, Morgan's face was also easy, showing little other than a reflection of Nino's smile. Her eyebrows weren't even arched to show some kind of curiosity. Looking at the two of them, it would be easy to think that their conversation was on an entirely innocent subject, something like their schoolwork—it passed along that easily. No uninformed observer would ever guess this was the exchange of a girl who was speaking to a friend who had killed one of their mutual friends in cold blood and blamed it on her.

Robin scratched his chin idly. He had followed Nino's trial through the papers: the attorney who defended her had dug into Nino's personal life, against Sonia Verdun's strict wishes, and found a history of abuse from her former caretaker. On a plea of insanity, Nino Cooper had been committed to an asylum until she turned thirty, whereupon she would be granted limited probation.

Robin looked back down and saw tears welling in Nino's eyes. Her voice was getting raspy, and she had trouble speaking to Morgan. Morgan was understanding. Her smile was gone: it had glazed over into a more contemplative look. She listened to what Nino was saying as if making a mental checklist. When Nino had finished, Morgan said her goodbyes and tapped Robin on the arm to indicate she was ready to go. He uttered a hurried wish that Nino would get the help she needed and started walking out toward his car, palming his keys.

When they both had settled in and Robin had started the engine, he looked over at Morgan, scrutinizing her. "I'm surprised," he said, forgetting that she didn't know what he was thinking, "about your attitude, I mean. Not many people would face a friend's killer with such… forgiveness."

"It's not worth being angry," Morgan said, "I knew what was happening to Nino. She wouldn't say it outright, but there were always little glimpses about what Sonia was doing to her. Bruises and stuff. She never talked about them, but I had a feeling."

"Still, I know there are a lot of people who don't think insanity offers much closure. I imagine it doesn't sit well with you."

"It doesn't," Morgan answered, folding her arms, "but there's no use putting that on her. She was my friend for years on end, but she's different now. She had no idea what she was doing. I believe that, and I have to make peace with it."

Robin's mouth turned up into a smirk as he pulled out of the parking lot. "Hard to believe you're the same girl who burst into my office just over a week ago. You hardly seemed sure of anything then."

"I'm still not. But I learn quickly. So I've been told, anyway."

"Well, I'm not in much of a position to judge, but I'd say you've had enough shows of emotional maturity for one day. Wanna get something to eat?"

"That sounds great." She turned to face him, her cheeks widening into a smile. "What did you have in mind?"

"You pick."

"Oh, and will Miss Anna join us?"

"Huh? Oh, I think Anna's busy balancing our books. She never wants anything when I offer, anyway. You don't have to call her 'miss,' by the way. I don't think she likes it. Makes her feel old."

"Whatever you say, Boss."

"And that's another thing…"

[October 28th, 11:42 am, LeBlanc & Co. Law Offices]

The door swung open, and Morgan was the first to enter, brushing past her new guardian to flop down onto the sofa. Robin walked in behind her rubbing his neck. Anna spun around in her chair to wave to him. "I take it things went well?"

"Nino's doing all right," Morgan answered for them both, "she's going to get help. Everyone else has already visited her, too. It's gonna take time, but I think we're going to get past this."

"I'm glad to see you bouncing back a little, kiddo," said Anna, now rising from her desk. "It was pretty sad to watch you go from off-the-walls energetic to betrayed depression in a few days."

"We've all run a few emotional gamuts the past couple of days," said Robin, "I think it'll do us all some good to relax a bit."

Morgan smiled at that, but Anna was less pleased. She scowled at the young attorney. "Is that your way of trying to get out of work? You know we're still in some pretty serious debt."

"And I'm working on that," he replied, rubbing his neck again, "but, see, it's been tricky with everything that's happened and… well, you know, everything's been so quick and touch-and-go, how could I ever… uh…"

Anna rolled her eyes. "I can move some funds around, but we're going to need to actually address this problem soon, or this office is as good as closed."

"Can I help?" Morgan asked, looking up at both of them and balling her fists.

"Nah." Robin tilted his head. "This is just money stuff. Nothing you need to be worried about."

"Hey, if we've got a new employee, we might as well give her at least a few duties, right?" Anna interrupted him, "Whaddya know about balancing checkbooks, kid?"

"Uh, nothing, I guess," Morgan answered.

"Anna, be reasonable," said Robin, "she's fresh out of high school. How about this, Morgan: I have some big files full of names on the shelf in my office, could you reorder them alphabetically by last name?"

"Right!" She gave him a firm salute with a twinkle in her eye and jumped off the couch into the other room.

Anna waited another moment before raising an eyebrow at her employer: "What in the world do you need your profiles alphabetized for?"

"Never hurts to have a system," he replied, smiling, "plus, that was the first thing Fado had me do when I started working here. It took hours."

"Oh, right." Anna folded her arms and thought back briefly to the fresh-faced attorney who'd entered the office that day. His hair was shorter back then, and a little darker. His eyes had been just as sparkly as Morgan's were a minute ago, and he had had trouble getting the door open, clutching some massive legal books to his chest. She was certain at the time that he'd never read them before, but since he'd started working, she had seen him work his way through them all. In a lot of ways, he had been just as eager and energetic as Morgan, though less excitable and more clumsy. That was always his way. She recalled once having to hold a tissue under his nose and a compress to his head as he had somehow managed to trip over the rug and fall face-first into Fado's desk. She found herself giggling at the memory.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

"Your face," she answered honestly.

"Beg pardon?"

"Just yanking your chain. I'm thinking about how much she reminds me of you when you first got here."

"Me? Hah! I was a consummate professional, I'll have you know."

"Robin, I was there. I remember the Great Sandwich Debacle, and similar ventures."

"Look, if Fado was going to bring the same type of sandwich for lunch, the least he could've done is labeled it and—er, that's all in the past! I got work done, that's all there is to it."

"Yeah, you were a real ace," she said, rolling her eyes, "Right up through your first… er, ahem." She paused to clear her throat. "Uh, never mind."

Robin's face dropped. "Hm? What were you thinking about?"

"No, I'm sorry." Anna shook her head as if to dismiss the thought. "I shouldn't have said anything." She ran her hand along her desk, grabbing a photo that Robin hadn't noticed up to that moment. "It was just with this stupid thing, I was thinking about…"

"What's that?" He looked curiously at the photo and took a step toward her.

Anna frowned at it and offered it to him. "Some lady came by yesterday while you were getting lunch, said she was returning stolen property to you."

"'Stolen property?'" he repeated, "And you're just telling me now?"

"Look, it's not…" She sighed in frustration. "Just look at the damned thing."

He did so. The photo was of a woman with fuchsia hair giving the camera a polite smile. She was dressed in a smart-looking black suit with a white shirt underneath and no tie. A gold chain hung around her neck, and, as Robin looked more closely, he realized that she had a beauty mark under her bottom lip and one of her bangs was nearly covering her right eye. The face was vaguely familiar, but it became a little too familiar when he read the name beneath the photo: Leila Viscount. He flipped the photo over and handed it back to Anna. "Sorry. You made the right call. I don't want to see this thing."

"Sorry to dredge it up," she said, taking it back.

"Who did you say brought it here?"

"I didn't get her name. Just some blonde lady. Knocked on the door, asked for you. I said you were out, she gave the photo to me, called it 'stolen property,' and then winked at me and left. Really weird exchange, upon retrospect."

"Blonde, huh? I wonder…"

Anna laughed a little. "Something I should know about? Are you seeing someone new?"

"Hardly. If it's who I'm thinking of, I'm not really her type."

"What, she doesn't like lawyers?"

"Partly. I think she's more into cute redheaded secretaries, though."

Anna blinked. "Oh."

"Hey, Boss," Morgan announced herself as she stepped out of his office, "What do you want me to do with this paper on your desk?"

"What?" He cocked an eyebrow at her. "I don't think I left any papers on my desk."

"Well, there's this," said Morgan, waving the paper in her hand at him, "It looks like all the other ones in those files. See? It has the name up top and everything."

Robin took the document and read it, seeing that everything was as Morgan said it was. He scowled at the paper and crushed it into a ball, then marched over to the trash can and threw it violently down.

Anna and Morgan both watched with frowns: Anna's sad, Morgan's perplexed.

"Is this a joke?" Robin glared at Anna. "Because if it is, it's not funny."

"What? I didn't even see the damn thing."

"That," he looked back at the trash can, "and the photo you just showed me… is it some kind of prank? It's in really bad taste, Anna."

"It wasn't!" she protested, "Robin, look at me. I know how serious that case is to you. Why would I ever joke about it?"

He sighed. "No, I guess you wouldn't. But how did it get on my desk? I sure as hell didn't put it there."

"I don't know."

"What about the blonde? Did you let her into the office at all?"

"No, never. She never got past the door."

"Then something doesn't make sense."

"Er, none of this makes sense," said Morgan, "Why did you get so angry over a dumb piece of paper, Boss?"

He looked down at her. "Right. Maybe that wasn't the best behavior for your new guardian. Uh, well, Morgan, that paper is a profile on somebody I don't like very much. Somebody who was involved in my very first trial as an attorney."

Her eyes lit up. "Really? Your first trial? What was it about? What happened?"

"Morgan, hon, this isn't something Robin really likes to talk about…"

Robin closed his eyes. "No, I'll tell her. This is something she deserves to know about, working for me. And, to be honest, with what happened in that last trial, it's probably best that I face it. Can't ignore these things forever."

"The last trial?" Morgan wondered aloud, pinching her chin, "Oh! Is this about the part where you passed out?"

"Yeah," said Robin, dragging it out with a long breath, "Why don't you come sit in my office with me? Anna, when you get a chance, please bring us some tea. This is going to take a while."

"I guess we weren't going to get any work done today anyway." The secretary shrugged.

Robin walked into the office with Morgan and sat down at his chair. His junior employee grabbed the seat on the other side of the desk that was usually reserved for clients and propped herself up. Robin took a set of folders down from the shelf behind him and spread them out across the dark wood of the desk. He opened up one and began to root around through its contents. "Now," he said aloud, "like I said, this was my first trial in Fado's employ, so I was pretty nervous. He was there to help me, thankfully, but it was a pretty high-profile case. I'm still not exactly sure why he chose to give it to me…"

[*]

[Three years ago… April 17th, 10:08 am, District Court-Defendant Lobby No. 1]

"Because, Mr. LeBlanc, I trust you. I think you're perfectly capable."

"Okay, fine, you trust me," said the sweating Robin LeBlanc, "put me on a shoplifting case, or something! This? This is… I don't know what it is. Insanity comes to mind."

"Relax, Mr. LeBlanc," Fado told him, folding his arms, "What is your client going to think if he sees you panicking like that?"

"Probably the same thing he thought when he learned he wasn't going to be defended by the famous Fado Verlaine, but by an understudy with no court experience," Robin answered.

Fado threw his head back in a laugh: "Ha ha ha! You always could give me a good chuckle, son. At least you've got the client's feelings in mind. But despairing certainly isn't going to make your situation any better. It's about time you straightened up that back and got yourself ready. The trial will be starting soon."

"Not helping," replied the young attorney.

"Let's see if you did your homework," said Fado with an evaluative glare, "You read the case brief, didn't you? Remind me of the facts of the case."

"There wasn't much in there," Robin answered, "The defendant, Pelleas Apoleus, is charged with first-degree murder. The victim, a Miss Leila Viscount, was eating lunch with him in a café when it happened."

"The cause of death?"

"Poisoning, according to the coroner. The victim ingested a small but lethal dose of cyanide that killed her instantly. The cup her drink was served in that afternoon tested positive for traces of cyanide, so it was probably slipped in there."

"So, why did they arrest Mr. Apoleus?"

"He was sitting at the table with the victim. He had the biggest window of opportunity. There were also some rumors about enmity between the two, but no one on the investigative committee commented on that."

"Anything else stick out to you?"

"Well, there was a power outage cause by a storm that day. It happened at 3:53 pm, according to the café's staff. Ms. Viscount was found dead after the power was restored minutes later."

"Good bit of showmanship, that. Raise the curtain of darkness, et voila! La dame, elle est morte! Quelle horreur bizarre!"

"This isn't going to go very far if I can't understand you, sir."

"It's all very theatrical. I'm glad you noticed how strange it is. Good. You seem to have done your due diligence, Mr. LeBlanc. Hopefully that will translate to good results in court today."

"H-Hopefully?" Robin shuddered.

"You'll do fine," said Fado, slinging his arm around his protégé, "Now, let's get in there. They'll be waiting for us."

"H-Hang on a second!" Robin protested, "What about speaking to my client?"

"Not a lot of time for that, son," his mentor said, folding his arms, "The courts in this country don't make many allowances for suspected criminals. We've done the necessary amount of prep, though. If you remember everything I've taught you, you'll do all right. Plus, I'll be there the whole time."

"I'm still not sure I'm ready."

"There's no need to doubt yourself, Robin. I know I don't."

Robin nodded. "Yes, sir."

[April 17th, 10:28 am, District Court-Courtroom No. 1]

Robin's mind tuned out the idle chatter of the gallery who were watching him enter. He concentrated on the large shadow cast by the warm gold lights in the ceiling being blocked by the elevated judge's bench. Feeling a hand over his shoulder, he let himself be led to the defense's bench by his mentor, and placed a few files on the desk, as did Fado. He looked across to the other side of the room for the first time and noticed a woman staring back at him, a disapproving look on her face. Her hair was indigo, almost purplish, and her eyes were about the same—the color of night skies. She wore a pair of gold earrings—not unlike Anna's, Robin realized—and navy-blue suit that fit her figure closely, but not in such a way that it seemed deliberate. She seemed to frown even more deeply when she saw him observing her dress. The woman picked up a file from the bench before her as well as a pair of silver-rimmed glasses and looked down, covering her face and body from him. Robin shrugged and pulled his tie a little tighter.

"I'll be damned," said Fado with a whisper of laughter, "Bringing out the big guns, are they?"

Robin turned to ask him what he meant, but at that moment, the sound of the judge's gavel brought his attention to the back of the room again.

"Silence, order, please," said the judge, clearing his throat. "Good morning, all. This court will now convene for the trial of Pelleas Apoleus. Are both counsels prepared?"

"As ever, Your Honor," said the purple-haired woman.

"Ah, Ms. Verra," the judge exclaimed, "It has been a minute since you were last in my humble court, hasn't it?"

"It has. I don't often return to the steps I've climbed, but I make allowances when it's necessary," she replied.

"Ursula Verra," Fado whispered to Robin, "She's a state prosecutor now. I had a few run-ins with her when she was just a young thing… Be careful, my boy. She doesn't tolerate any nonsense."

A state prosecutor? For my first trial?! Oh, I am so totally out of my depth, here!

"And it is quite necessary, hm?" said the judge, reading over the case brief on his desk, "We have a very serious case on our hands, as I understand it."

"Yes, Your Honor," Ursula Verra answered.

"Now then," the judge digressed, "are you prepared, Mr. Robin… LeBlank?"

"Er, with all respect to Your Honor, it's pronounced 'LeBlanc.'"

"Of course, my apologies. Now, I understand that this is your first trial, Mr. LeBlanc. Is that true?"

"It is, Your Honor."

"Very good. No need to be intimidated, then. We are only interested in pursuing and teasing out the truth here, as I'm sure your employer, Mr. Verlaine, has told you."

"I gave him the rundown, Your Honor. Not to worry." Fado smiled at the judge.

"And do you feel prepared, Mr. LeBlanc?"

"Yes, sir. Er, Your Honor. I'm ready to begin."

"Good. Then this trial is officially in session." The judge swung his gavel. "Now, how do you plead, Mr. LeBlanc?"

"Not guilty, Your Honor."

"So be it. Ms. Verra, I imagine you have an opening statement prepared?"

"Yes, Your Honor," Ursula Verra said, stepping forward from her bench and speaking to the entire court. "At four o'clock in the afternoon on April tenth, the defendant, Mr. Pelleas Apoleus, was apprehended following the death of the victim, Ms. Leila Viscount. The two had been lunching together at a local café. The day was a dark and stormy one, and, at one point, the building's power went out, causing the lights to dim. Minutes later, when the power was restored, the victim fell dead. An autopsy revealed that the victim had most likely ingested cyanide, meaning that she was poisoned. There was no evidence to suggest that the victim might have accidentally ingested the cyanide, leading the police department to conclude that this was a homicide. The victim's cup was also tested and confirmed for traces of cyanide, further suggesting the poisoning was deliberate. Ultimately, the police reached the conclusion that Mr. Apoleus poisoned the victim by introducing cyanide to her drink during the blackout. In the absence of any evidence to refute this conclusion, the state has concurred with this opinion."

Well, Fado wasn't kidding about her being no-nonsense. That sounded like it was ripped straight from a newspaper.

"Did the state determine a motive for the defendant, Ms. Verra?" asked the judge.

Ursula nodded. "Yes, Your Honor. As it turns out, the defendant is Ylisse's ambassador to Plegia. He was to be receiving some important information from the victim, an agent of the Plegian government, but, according to a few witness testimonies, the deal went sour at some point in the middle of the meal. We strongly suspect that it was at that moment that the defendant decided to commit the murder. At the court's request, the state is prepared to provide witnesses and physical evidence to support all of the conclusions made thus far. In short, there can be no doubt as to the truth of this case. Nothing further."

"Thank you, Ms. Verra," said the judge, leaning back into his chair, "I believe it is in the court's best interest to hear of this physical evidence. Could you please present it?"

"The evidence will be shown to the court by the investigating detective on the scene," Ursula told him, "Mr. Mordel, would you be so kind?"

A man with pale hair walked slowly up to the stand. His hair wasn't quite gray, but it wasn't dark enough to be considered brown—it was a kind of puce. His eyes were small and narrow as he took his place at the stand, dressed in a long coat that was only a little darker than his hair. A red scarf was folded neatly under his collar. He jammed one hand into his pocket and glared at everyone in the room to ensure that they knew he was unhappy to be in their presence.

Only Ursula seemed able to ignore the tense atmosphere: "Your name and occupation for the record, detective."

"Volke Mordel," he answered, "I'm a detective, like you just said. Shall we get on with it?"

"Let's. Tell the court about what you and your men discovered that will prove the defendant's guilt."

"Right. So, here's the long and short of it: the defendant and victim were seated at the same table the whole time, right up until the murder. We have witnesses who can confirm their positions, as well as some security footage of the moments before the blackout. Of course, the camera cut out as soon as the lights did, but it was impossible for anyone else to have poisoned the victim's drink: both of the café's waitstaff were still serving tables right before the blackout, so they would've known if anyone moved afterward. When the defendant was arrested, he had traces of cyanide on his cuff. Similar tests were applied to the waitstaff in the condition that they were discovered, but they turned up negative, meaning neither of them could have done it. Not to mention, the defendant had a vial of hydrogen cyanide in his pocket when he was arrested. The only remaining possibility is that the defendant was at fault."

"Thank you for that highly succinct testimony, detective," said the judge. Volke simply continued to project an unamused glare at the court. "And now I believe Mr. LeBlanc has the opportunity to cross-examine the detective."

Robin swallowed hard and looked over at his mentor. "Fado," he said, "what do I do? I don't think the detective was lying anywhere, and his logic is sound, so what can I say?"

"Don't panic just yet, son," said Fado, "it's much too early. The detective's thinking isn't as perfect as it sounds. Slow down, and try to think about what might not be apparent in the detective's statement. Or just ask about something—either way, you're sure to get more information."

"All right." Robin took a deep breath. "Mister… er, that is, Detective Mordel, I'm afraid I don't know much about toxicology. Can you tell me how someone might be able to put cyanide in a drink without someone noticing?"

Volke stared back at Robin, but, for a moment, Robin thought he could see the detective smiling a little under his scarf. "Cyanide is a very versatile poison. It can be procured in liquid and gaseous forms, as well as salts."

"It's in salt?!" Robin started.

"No, no. Salts. As in solid compounds of small crystals."

"O-Okay…"

"In brief, cyanide stops the body from producing the energy it needs to function, so a high enough dose basically guarantees instantaneous death. No fuss. In this case, it was most likely introduced to the victim's drink as a liquid, making it hard to detect."

"Is there any reason it couldn't have been the solid form?"

"Not that I can offer evidence for, no. Cyanide has a melting point of around seven degrees Fahrenheit, though. So, if it was placed in, say, coffee, it probably wouldn't stay solid for very long, anyway."

"Well… that told me nothing." Robin frowned.

"On the contrary," Fado leaned his head back for another laugh, "that was quite the interesting chemistry lesson!"

"Um, so, you say you found traces of cyanide on the defendant's cuff?" Robin continued, facing the detective again.

"That's right. Chemicals can be applied to material like the defendant's shirt to test for substances—they change color if they find even small traces of the substance. The defendant's cuff tested positive for cyanide."

"Is it possible that some of the cyanide might have gotten onto the defendant's cuff by accident?"

"Not likely. For starters, we've already abundantly proven that no one else was moving at the time. For another, even if it were an accident, had liquid cyanide touched the defendant's skin, well… there's a good chance he'd be a victim, too. But, if he noticed it right away, he could do something like turn the cuff inside-out to prevent it from bleeding through the fabric onto him."

"Damn," Robin cursed, "this is getting us nowhere."

"Easy, Robin," Fado said, looking straight ahead, "Take your time."

"Let's see… how about the cameras? You said they cut out when the blackout happened, but the murder happened after the blackout, so how can you be so sure no one else approached the victim?"

"I have the sworn testimony of everyone in the room at the time. Only servers were still moving after the blackout, and there's no reason to suspect either of them."

"But… it was dark, so couldn't someone have missed something?"

"'Someone?' 'Something?'" Ursula Verra sighed, "Mr. LeBlanc, I understand that this is your first trial, but if you are going to make claims, they must be specific and supported by evidence."

"R-Right. Um… detective, about the vial of cyanide… did it have any fingerprints on it?"

"Nope. The vial seems to have been wiped clean."

"Don't you think it's a little strange that the defendant would just keep such an incriminating piece of evidence on his person? Why not just throw it away, or something?"

"If I had to guess, I'd say he had it figured that people were going to realize he and Ms. Viscount had been sitting together the whole time, and that they'd eventually put two and two together. He probably figured that it was safer to hold onto the thing than just leave it out in the open for anyone to find."

"That's pretty prescient of him. Wait a minute… yeah, prescient… Just a second: detective, I have another question."

"Hm?"

"You say the murder was committed after the blackout, and the defendant was the only one who could have done it in that time, but then… why?"

"…I don't follow."

"I'm saying, if Mr. Apoleus was planning to murder Ms. Viscount, why did he wait for the blackout? Did he know there was going to be a blackout?"

"H-Huh?" The detective's eyes sunk.

"It's more likely that the defendant planned to murder Ms. Viscount no matter what, and the blackout provided a convenient opportunity," Ursula said, "It's really nothing so complex."

"But how else would he have done it? He couldn't have poisoned her drink right in front of her, and even if she got up to use the restroom or something, there were still plenty of witnesses around who could have seen him do it," Robin replied.

Ursula Verra shrugged. "This conversation is irrelevant speculation. Unless you can provide proof that this question of yours changes the meaning of all the other evidence."

Robin thought, and when he was done thinking, he turned to his mentor. "I can't do that, can I?"

"You'd have to be a smarter man than me," Fado answered, smiling.

"No further questions," Robin sighed, facing the rest of the court again.

"Then that will be all, detective." Ursula folded her arms and shut her eyes.

"Yes, thank you, detective," said the judge, "You're dismissed. In the meantime, do you have another witness to call, prosecution?"

Ursula cocked an eyebrow at the dark-coated detective who walked sulkily by her, glaring up at her for only the briefest moment. She then picked up a paper from her desk and said, "Yes, Your Honor. The prosecution would now like to call on the defendant, in the interest of some legal standards of equality, but also so that the court can hear the flimsiness of his explanation and further concur with the state's conclusions."

Robin could now get his first good look at his client since he had visited the office a few days ago. He looked a few years older than Robin, but not many. His hair was long and wiry, reaching down to his shoulders, and cobalt blue in hue. His face and eyes sagged into a long and seemingly permanent frown, giving off the impression that he had always just been crying. Or, perhaps, at best, he looked sternly apathetic. He was wearing a white suit, which Robin found strange, until he realized that it was less of a suit and more of a uniform: not unlike his hair and face, the suit was dirtied and rumpled, meaning he probably hadn't had much time to change out of it since being arrested. It must have been the suit he wore for official appearances—a part of his identity, in which case, it was unfortunate but appropriate that it was so beaten up.

He stood at the stand and looked over at the defense bench with the same vaguely sad look in his eyes, and then faced Ursula.

"Your name and occupation for the record," she commanded.

"My name is Pelleas Apoleus," he said in a weak monotone, "I'm Ylisse's ambassador to Plegia."

"Indeed. Now, tell the court what you believe happened on the day of Ms. Viscount's murder."

"R-Right. Well, I was acting in an official capacity that day. I was supposed to be receiving several documents from Ms. Viscount that had been sent by the Plegian government. I called a few days before we were to meet and asked if there was somewhere she would like to meet in particular, and she named the café we later visited. I think she comes there quite often. At any rate, we met there a little after three—a quarter past, if memory serves. We ate a light lunch and discussed affairs between our two countries until, finally, the blackout happened. I didn't know quite what to do, so I just remained still while the lights were out. I couldn't see a thing, but I could hear both of the servers still moving around for a few minutes after. Eventually, after a bit of chatter, the lights came back on, and I turned around to find Leila dead. Imagine my shock and horror! Of course, I alerted everyone in the café straight away, and even suggested that we ought to call the police. I don't know how that poison got on my cuff, or in my pocket, I swear! Why should I have done it?"

The court was silent, projecting a number of evaluative stares down at the defendant. Few of them seemed to make a positive judgment. Even Robin found himself frowning. "This isn't good," he said, "That didn't make for a very convincing counterargument. At this rate, the prosecution won't even need to call any of their witnesses."

"Don't despair just yet," said Fado, smiling at his protégé, "This is a good opportunity for you. You can help our client fix up his statements. Give him a stronger platform to stand on, and you may find more folks coming over to our side."

"Of course, you're right." These words sounded more like Robin trying to convince himself. "Fix his statements… I can do this."

Fado turned back to face the defendant, still smiling. "I know you can, son."

"Mr. LeBlanc, I assume you'll have a few questions for the defendant as well?" the judge said.

"Yes, Your Honor." Robin put on his best professional face without looking too stern—he was afraid even an indelicate glare might break this poor, nervous-looking man. "Mr. Apoleus, you said you were receiving documents from Ms. Viscount… can you tell the court anything more about the contents of those documents?"

"Oh, I don't know… most of those would be considered confidential. I don't think I'm at liberty to say anything too specific."

"Is there any reason someone else might've wanted to get their hands on those documents?"

Pelleas's brow shifted as he thought. "I'd be quite surprised. Most of them were… ahem, well, speaking broadly, there were some reports and records of illicit trading along the border. Nothing of interest to anyone besides government officials, really."

"If you were going to suggest the involvement of a third party, Mr. LeBlanc, you'd have to first provide proof that there was even anyone there with the opportunity," said Ursula, "otherwise, you have nothing."

"To that end," Robin said, trying to maintain his composure, "Mr. Apoleus, you say you heard the servers moving around, right?"

"Yes, I could hear their footsteps."

"But you couldn't see them in the dark, right? How do you know it was them?"

"Hm… I suppose I don't. I just assumed, since they were the only ones up and moving before the blackout."

"For the record, we have the sworn testimony of both servers saying the witnessed the other moving before the blackout, and no one else," said Ursula, "This line of inquiry won't stick, Mr. LeBlanc."

Robin paused and frowned.

Fado faced him again. "What's the matter, son? This'd be a good time to ask some more questions."

"Yeah, I have one in mind, it's just… I'm afraid it might damage our case if I ask, but I also think it might help lead us to more information. Should I ask it?"

"Hah. That's one of the toughest judgment calls you can make as a lawyer, son. I'll let you decide, because it won't be the last time."

"What? But that's… er, well… any advice?"

"I never knew any subject so dangerous it couldn't at least be talked about."

"All right. That's what I was thinking." Robin cleared his throat and faced the stand again. "Mr. Apoleus, Ms. Verra has given this court the idea that you and the victim had some kind of argument before the murder. Is there any truth to that allegation?"

Pelleas's frown sunk even deeper, as if he were wondering if his attorney had lost it.

"Please remember that you are under oath, Mr. Apoleus," Ursula said, her eyes sharp.

"I'm afraid…" He bowed his head. "…that it is not entirely untrue."

Robin grit his teeth. "Oh, no…" Ursula only gave a tiny smile.

"Ms. Viscount is a… very opinionated woman," Pelleas said, cocking his head to the side, "She apparently took some umbrage with the way I perform my duties, and there was the matter of my father… She told me I was too passive, and so I tried to summon up a little courage… I don't think it was really much of an argument, I just asked her to quit berating me."

"And there you have it, ladies and gentlemen of the court," Ursula Verra said, taking a bow, "The defendant, humiliated during his meeting with the victim, took advantage of his opportunity to poison the victim's drink during the blackout. The only defense he can muster is that he has no idea where the poison came from… what an atrocious lie!"

"P-Please! I'm telling the truth! Why won't you listen?" the defendant protested.

"This isn't going well," Fado said matter-of-factly.

"H-Hang on!" Robin shouted, "Ms. Verra, what you just said conflicts with your earlier explanation: why would the defendant be carrying around poison if he only decided to murder the victim because of an argument they had in the middle of their lunch?"

Ursula shook her head and wagged her finger at the young attorney. "Mr. LeBlanc. I understand that this is your first trial, so I'll try not to be too harsh with you, but know this: I have been entrusted with researching this case thoroughly. I know all there is to know about it. You cannot conceive of a single angle which I have not considered. Mr. Apoleus, tell the court: do you have some kind of history with the victim?"

"Y-Yes," he sighed, "Ms. Viscount was my most frequent point of contact with the Plegian government. We met at least once every three months, and we were known to get into similar… er, conversations."

Ursula stretched out her arm, as if presenting the testimony to the defense. "So, you see, the defendant has abundant motive to already despise the victim. Perhaps he was using the day of the murder to decide if he should really go through with it. Of course, we all know what he decided now."

Pelleas let out a pant and buckled a bit at the stand.

Fado called out: "Robin, some professional advice: this is looking grim. Find somewhere else to go with this, quickly."

"But… what…?"

"Anything. Just do it now."

"Er, um… Mr. Apoleus… could we see the cuff you wore on the day of the murder—the one that was alleged to show traces of cyanide?"

"Of course." The defendant rolled up his right arm's suit sleeve and showed the court the white shirt sleeve underneath. At the edge of the cuff, in a straight line from the defendant's middle finger, there was a blob of light blue, ending in, Robin noticed, an unnaturally sharp line at the opposite side. The blot was no wider than an inch.

"Is cyanide known to be blue?" Robin asked, pinching his chin while staring at the evidence.

"No, that would be the chemical reactant used to identify the traces of cyanide," Ursula replied, "this coloration is how the police department can tell, without question, that there are traces of cyanide on the cuff. There is no reason to doubt that fact."

"Wait a second…" Robin muttered, staring even more intensely at the mark, "Mr. Apoleus, what hand do you use most often?"

"Hm? I'm right-handed," the defendant answered.

Ursula folded her arms. "Does this mean something to you, defense?"

"As a matter of fact, it does," Robin replied, "It means the prosecution's theory makes no sense at all!"

"What?!" Ursula bared her teeth like fangs. "How dare you make such a ridiculous claim?" She calmed herself down a bit, closing her mouth and her eyes. "What about the presence of cyanide and the defendant's handedness changes the state's theory?"

"Look at the placement of the cyanide trace: it's on top of the defendant's cuff, in line with his middle finger. If the defendant had lifted the poison from his pocket—presumably with his right hand—and dropped it into the victim's drink, when would it have gotten back over his hand and onto his cuff?"

"Rrgh." Ursula simply growled lowly. The rest of the court began to exchange whispers until the judge's gavel silenced them.

"What does this mean for the court, Mr. LeBlanc?" the judge asked.

"It means that it was impossible for the defendant to have dropped the poison into the victim's drink, like the prosecution has suggested."

"Objection!" Ursula shouted, "It's still entirely possible that the defendant simply used his other hand."

"But why would he do that? Not only would the defendant be performing a precise action with his non-dominant hand, but since he would need to swing his arm all the way over to his pocket and then stretch it out right in front of the victim, it would be an unnecessarily conspicuous action to boot!"

"You're forgetting about the blackout, Mr. LeBlanc. Visibility really wasn't much of a factor. Perhaps the defendant was simply so shocked and excited by the opportunity that he bumbled a bit and used his non-dominant hand because he wanted to be quick about things."

"But… but…"

"Moreover, the placement of the cyanide on the defendant's cuff is irrelevant. A trace could have ended up there accidentally after the fact. It doesn't really matter, considering that the defendant still had the poison on him when the police arrived and no one else had an opportunity to poison the victim."

"There was… someone else had an opportunity!"

Ursula smirked. "Really? And who was that?"

"W-Well… why not one of the servers?"

Ursula smiled. Robin felt his face sink. "I'll be more than happy to give you the testimony of both servers, Mr. LeBlanc. They will provide alibis for one another, and finally represent the full truth of the matter to this court. They will prove, in short, that no one other than the defendant was capable of committing this murder."

Robin doubled back. "Urk! Dammit…"

Fado was watching the prosecutor carefully. "She has changed… a bit, anyway. I guess this is the true power of the Blue Crow."

"The… 'Blue Crow?'" Robin cocked an eyebrow at his mentor.

"Sure. She feeds on carrion. And she's as sharp as a tack, too. Just like a crow. That's the nickname they've given her in the prosecutor's office."

Robin groaned, "Why couldn't I have gotten a simple traffic case?"

"Relax. I'm still here," said Fado, "She's smart, but she's arrogant, too. I'm sure she thinks she's laid many clever traps for you throughout this trial, but if you keep a level head, you can outthink her."

"But what about she said about researching the case? She seems to know everything I'm going to bring up before I can even say it…"

"That's just more arrogance, like I said. You think your client is innocent, right?"

"Y-Yeah…"

"Well, Ms. Verra doesn't. That means, at best, she only thinks she knows every possible explanation."

"Huh?"

"If she really knew everything… she'd probably believe he was innocent, too, don't you think?"

"I'm not sure I follow."

"Just keep at it, Robin. You'll get her. Try to stay calm."

"Right…"

"Well, seeing as the defense's argument has been quite soundly refuted, I will defer to Ms. Verra's statement," said the judge, "If the prosecution would like to call its next witness, we can continue with the trial."

"Certainly, Your Honor," the prosecutor said, leaning back with an easier expression on her face, "The prosecution will call Ms. Amelia Arealla, a waitress at the café."

Robin watched the prosecutor this time, ignoring the witness as she left the gallery and walked up to the witness stand. The Blue Crow stood tall and composed, looking over her records. She really did seem to know all there was to know about this case, as much as it irked him. How could he conceive of an explanation that even a state prosecutor given plenty of time and resources couldn't have imagined?

[Turnabout Collapse ~ Trial Former—end]