[April 17th, 11:49 am, District Court-Courtroom No. 1]

Robin had to break his concentration on Ursula and her plans so that he could listen to the witness, who had suddenly appeared at the stand. She was a short and slight blonde girl—not really the type Robin would have pegged for a waitress. She wore a red shirt with a buttoned collar that featured the café's name on the back, a thin pair of tan pants, and she had a towel with the café's logo hanging out of her right pocket.

She was tottering a bit at the stand. She didn't look confused or intoxicated, just like she had some kind of difficulty putting her feet properly in place. Another reason it was strange to think she was a waitress. When she was finally settled, Ursula asked her for her name and occupation.

She gave it: "I'm Amelia Arealla, one of two servers at the bea-YU-tiful Posto Ladro Café! Our motto is: 'Our fantastic food and warm hospitality will steal the hours away!'" With this, she gave a little flourish and stretched out her hand. Afterward, she looked around, as if searching for approval. Someone in the gallery laughed and clapped his hands, earning him an angry glare from the judge.

"Miss Arealla," Ursula Verra said sternly, "please try to remember that you are in a court of law, providing testimony for a murder case."

Her face dropped into a miserable frown. "Oh, I'm sorry! Did I do it wrong again? I was told to get the word out, but… oh, I'm just useless!" The witness started to pout and rub her shoulder.

"It's quite all right, Ms. Arealla," said the judge, "Many people aren't sure quite how to act when placed in a court as a witness for the first time. Please, just relax and answer the questions you're asked, and there won't be any problems."

"Uh, all right," she said in a voice just above a whisper.

If you're asking me, it looks like this girl's going to provide plenty of her own problems, Robin thought. Fado was silent, looking at the witness with nothing more than an amused smile.

"Ms. Arealla," Ursula called her to attention, "Please tell the court what you were doing on the day of the crime, as well as what you saw the defendant and victim doing at that time."

"Okay," she said with a nod, "Let's see… So, I was the one assigned to Mr. Apoleus and Ms. Viscount's table. We divide the tables up into halves of the restaurants, and that's how we choose which of the of us—my coworker Forde and I, that is—has to serve which table. Those two were on my side, so I served them their food and drinks. I was out on the floor most of the day because we were pretty busy—the whole place was packed almost all day, and it had started to get really warm inside. Between the kitchen cooking up a storm and all the people, I was roasting. But, anyway, I never took my eyes off the front room where all the tables are for more than a few minutes all day. I didn't see either Mr. Apoleus or Ms. Viscount get up or move anywhere during their meal until after Ms. Viscount was dead. For the record, the bathrooms are in the back of the café, past the kitchen. It's a confusing spot, all the way back there, and customers have to ask where it is all the time. Basically, I definitely would've seen if one of them had gone that way."

"So, there you go," Ursula said, raising her hand like she was letting the information drop from it, "The defendant is the only one who had the opportunity to poison the victim's drink, no one else. Given that he had the offending substance in his pocket, it should be clear that there is no room for doubt in this matter."

"Mr. LeBlanc, your cross-examination," offered the judge.

Robin tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Ms. Arealla, I've heard so far that other patrons at the café claimed to still hear the waitstaff moving after the blackout. Can you tell me what you were doing?"

"Well, I can't speak for Forde," she said, pushing her index finger into her cheek, "but for me, I was running around, feeling a little flustered. I wanted to serve the guests, because we were so busy, but, of course, we had to fix the power problem first, and I didn't know how to do that, and I couldn't see where I was, so I ended up tripping and—" she seemed to be running out of breath reliving her trauma.

"Er, that's enough, thanks," Robin told her, "but, just to be clear, you heard your fellow server Forde moving during the blackout, too?"

"Yes. He was a lot more composed than me, by the sound of it. Not that that's anything new…"

"And did you see him in that time?"

"No… It was pitch black inside and dark and stormy outside, so it was really hard to see much of anything when the power went out. That was why I ended up tripping."

"I'll say it again, Mr. LeBlanc," Ursula told him, "the facts of this case are absolutely as the state has presented them. There's no use trying to undermine the story as it has been told thus far."

"I'll be the judge of that," he said in reply.

"What was that?" she growled at him, leaning over her desk.

"Er, nothing! Nothing at all!" Robin had to catch his breath. She was cold in general, but she could get much scarier at the drop of a hat. "U-Um… Ms. Arealla, can we talk about the dimensions of the building a little?"

"Hm? Uh, I didn't build it, so if you're looking for technical specifications…"

"No, not like that. I was thinking about what you said about the bathroom."

"Oh, sure. Yeah, it's in the back of the café, past the kitchen and the employee lounge."

Robin raised his eyebrows. "Employee lounge?"

"Yeah. Didn't I mention that? It's just a little room where Forde and I can get into our uniforms or take a quick water-and-snack break if we're having a rough shift."

"I see. And you didn't go into the lounge at all during that time?"

"Nope. I don't think I went in there at all that day, actually."

"Is the door to the lounge locked when you're not there?"

"No. There's a big 'employees only' sign on it, so most people don't give it a second thought. Besides, we don't really keep anything valuable in there. I guess if someone was really determined to steal our clothes or something…"

"For the record," said Ursula, holding a paper in front of her face, "the police found nothing in the employee lounge but a discarded uniform, believed to have belonged to Mr. Forde Willow. He was probably changing before he left for the day, following the murder."

"What do you think, Mr. Verlaine?" Robin asked, "It's another room we haven't heard about yet. It opens up a whole new dimension to the case, don't you think?"

Fado smiled. "I appreciate your enthusiasm, son, but don't get ahead of yourself. True, this opens up many possibilities, but courts and juries don't much like hearing about possibilities. What they like to hear are facts and evidence. You should hold off on making any big statements until you've found the evidence that lets one of those possibilities crystalize into a fact."

"I guess that makes sense." Still thought you would have encouraged me a little more, though…

"It seems the existence of this employee lounge is not particularly relevant to the matter at hand," said the judge, "Will there be anything else, Mr. LeBlanc?"

"Um…" The novice attorney's eyes searched the room. "You said it was… hot, Ms. Arealla?"

Ursula folded her arms and scoffed.

"Yeah," Amelia answered, frowning as she recalled it, "Like I said, it was a pretty busy day, so the kitchen was firing non-stop, and the whole building was crazy hot. I was sweating the whole time. I had to towel myself off with a rag before I went to each table so I wouldn't look gross. Ugh, what a day…"

"Any thoughts on that, Mr. LeBlanc?" asked the judge, looking quite ready to be done.

"Um…" Robin scratched his head thoroughly, but he couldn't come up with anything in the few seconds that afforded him.

"Clearly not," said Ursula, "Mr. LeBlanc has finally arrived at the same realization everyone in this court had one testimony ago: there is no use probing for more information. The result of this trial has already been decided by careful planning. Now, if he knows what's good for him, he will spare the rest of us some time and allow the trial to end here, all the proof directed abundantly in the prosecution's favor."

"Shoot!" Robin said to himself, hitting the desk below him, "She's got a real stranglehold on things in this trial. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe she really does have every possibility covered…"

"Surely you're not giving up like that?" Fado said, turning to face his protégé.

"I don't want to, but what else can I say? I can't find even the slightest gap in her narrative—she's got everything sealed tightly shut."

Fado shut his eyes and smiled a big grin. "Robin, my boy, are you familiar with the concept of entropy?"

"…Entropy, sir?"

"Sure. In physics, it's a quantity used to describe the number of ways in which a system might not work. You follow? Ever heard of 'Murphy's Law?'"

"Wait… yeah, I do know that one: 'Anything that can go wrong will go wrong,' right?"

"Exactly. That's what 'entropy' usually represents, especially among people. Anytime you introduce people to the equation, there's a high chance that something unexpected will happen. See where I'm going yet?"

"You… want me to turn the trial over to the jury? Hope we win by pure luck?"

Fado scowled. "No."

"Then no."

"Robin, do you think there's a way we could involve another person in these proceedings? Maybe try to disrupt the prosecution's story a bit? Or, at least, complicate it?"

Robin's eyebrows jumped. "Oh! Now I get it! The waiter! Maybe we can get something out of him."

"Thatta boy," Fado said more happily, turning back to the court.

"Will there be anything further, Mr. LeBlanc?" the judge asked, looking down from his bench.

"Yes, Your Honor!" Robin answered, "The defense would like the opportunity to question another of the prosecution's witnesses: namely, Forde Willow, the other server on-staff at the time of the murder!"

"I see," said the judge, leaning back, "Very well. Does the prosecution have any objections, Ms. Verra?"

Ursula sighed. "Personally, I firmly object to the desperate act of stalling for time, but on the level of legal concern, no, the prosecution makes no formal objections to this request."

"Then I see no reason not to grant it," the judge concluded, "Bailiff, would you please fetch the witness?"

The bailiff did as he was told, letting a big gust of air in through the court as he walked out the imposing back doors. Robin, similarly, let out a long breath before looking around the room. He found Ursula immediately sticking her nose back into her notes and files. Meanwhile, Fado was cracking his knuckles and straightening out his suit, appearing to take no interest in the desperation they were currently facing in their case. Looking back behind the space for presiding counsel, beyond the velvet ropes, the gallery were sitting and chatting in whispers. Among them, Pelleas Apoleus, with two policemen on either side of him, was still bearing the same just-crying look as his face descended lower and lower toward his palm. When he saw Robin looking at him, he just moved his head to the side to avoid eye contact. Even as Robin turned around to face the judge again, the older gentleman seemed to have a thoroughly dull look in his eyes. He was stroking at his beard, trying to shield his eyes from the harsh fluorescent lights above him. Finally, footsteps came from the back of the court as the witness was brought forward.

The man took the stand and gave the court a little smile. He was a youthful-looking man with bright eyes, a somewhat narrow jaw, and wheat-blond hair tied into a ponytail at the back. He ran his right hand through that hair before giving everyone in the court a bigger grin, waiting expectantly.

"Your name and occupation for the record," Ursula demanded.

"I'm Forde Willow," he replied, "a fellow server at the Posto Ladro Café. I'll happily answer any questions you have about the day of the crime—I made sure to commit everything I could to memory."

"Mr. Willow," the judge cleared his throat, "If you would, please tell the court everything you remember about the events leading up to the murder, as well as the moments after, before the defendant's arrest."

"Why, sure thing, Your Honor!" He gave the court a thumbs-up. They didn't seem impressed. He blinked at them. "C'mon, sad sacks. Liven up a little. It looks like a damn funeral here."

"Please watch your language," said the judge.

"Take this seriously, witness, or you'll seriously be in trouble," Ursula added.

Robin and Fado said nothing.

"Man, you guys are no fun," the witness said, scowling away from the entire court.

"Witness, your testimony?" the judge insisted.

"Fine," he sighed, "Lemme see. It was a pretty normal day, other than the fact that we were booked solid the whole day through. One of the busiest times I've ever seen, in fact. I say 'one of,' because, there was this day about a year and a half ago when the exalt's little sister came to town and, hoo, boy! You shoulda seen how full up we got when—"

"Witness!" Ursula slammed her fist on her desk. "Please, restrict your testimony to matters relevant to the case at hand!"

"Right, right," he said, shrugging, "so, anyhow, I was busting my hump the whole day, just going back and forth from the kitchen, and it was super hot inside, because there were orders coming out all the time. I wasn't waiting the tables on the side of the room where the victim or defendant were eating, so I didn't really see what was going on with 'em, or what they were up to. Honestly, if the police hadn't shown me pictures, I might not have even remembered them at all. See, like I said, it was burning up in there, so right before the blackout, I went into the lounge to take a breather. I got kinda dizzy, so I might've blacked out myself, even! Haha! Then I woke up with the café's chef leaning over me, and he filled me in. After that, Amelia and I held down the exits to make sure no one left until the police got there to manage the situation."

"So, you can see," said Ursula, "despite the fact that the witness is something of a ditz, he reports the same facts as the other server with no discrepancy."

"Robin?" Fado looked down at his pupil.

"Oh, no worries," the young attorney replied, "that one was easy to spot."

"Good lad."

"It's all thanks to 'entropy.'"

"Righto."

"It seems like you have something to add, Mr. LeBlanc," said the judge.

"Yes, Your Honor," Robin said, facing down the prosecutor across from him, "I object to the prosecution's last statement!"

"Excuse you?" Ursula replied, lowering her brow at him.

"Ms. Verra, you just said that the witness reported the same facts as Ms. Arealla 'with no discrepancy.'"

"And?"

"And that's not true. There is a clear and glaring contradiction between their two testimonies: Mr. Willow claims that he entered the employee lounge shortly before the blackout and may have briefly fainted. Ms. Arealla, on the other hand, claimed that she heard Mr. Willow's footsteps not only moments before the blackout, but during it."

"Then Ms. Arealla must have misspoken. That's clearly impossible."

"Oh? So, what did she mean, then? Or are you claiming she heard someone else's footsteps? The latter would further contradict the prosecution's claims!"

Ursula's glare stabbed into Robin. It was like being hit with a blast of cold air, seeing the expression on her face at that moment. Had he actually managed to dig into her a bit? Either way, whatever feeling of victory he could derive from that moderate success disappeared when she spoke again. She shook her head. "I understand this must be very exciting for you, Mr. LeBlanc, but please, don't go proclaiming your victory just yet." She tapped her finger on her arm as she thought aloud: "It occurs to me that we have been presented with a problem. You posit your argument on an apparent contradiction between the two testimonies of these servers, Mr. LeBlanc. The next logical question to ask is 'Why does this conflict exist?'"

"Yes, and—"

"Quiet! I'm not finished speaking yet, boy. Now, your deduction is most likely that this somehow represents evidence of another party being involved in the affair?" Robin winced. "Don't look so surprised," she went on, "I know your mentor's tactics quite well. Instead of jumping to negative conclusions by using an absence of positive proof, allow me to present the court with a more logical supposition: one of our fine witnesses is not being entirely honest."

Mutters rang out through the court, and Fado pinched his chin. "What is she doing?" the senior attorney wondered, "She knows full well that saying that undermines her case, too."

"Could… could she have known their testimonies were going to conflict?" Robin stammered.

"If so, she's given this even more thought than I could've anticipated," Fado replied. His features were sharp and dark.

"Mr. Willow," Ursula continued, "you are causing this court considerable trouble. Tell me something, and do be honest: did you go into the employee lounge before the blackout?"

"Y-Yes. Er, well… I mean… I… I think… I did?" The waiter was rubbing his neck fitfully, sweat already gathering on his forehead.

"Oh, but you said it with such confidence before," Ursula said with a mocking voice, leaning over her desk, "Why the sudden uncertainty?"

"Er, that's 'cause… well, y'see, this is all just a funny misunderstanding…"

"Witness… the truth, if you please, or you'll learn what the Blue Crow does with creatures left dead in the water…"

"Eek! I… I was out of it around then, okay? I… I can't really remember what happened. I was tired, and hot, and… and I didn't know what was going on or what I was doing! I went toward the employee lounge and… I remember waking up there, but…"

"The witness experienced heatstroke," Ursula finished for him, "irrationality or lapses in memory due to temporarily limited brain functioning are not unheard of in such cases. It's entirely possible that Mr. Willow merely stumbled around in confusion after the blackout, and only then made his way into the lounge, wherein he finally fainted." The prosecutor took a little bow. "What do you think of my reasoning, Your Honor?"

"I must say, your work is impeccable as always, Ms. Verra," the judge said, stroking his beard, "You are quite the skilled logician."

"Much gratitude, Your Honor," she said, "And, if there were to be any question of deduction, I would like to present this report to the court: a medical examiner who attended to the witness that same day gave the same diagnosis that I arrived at in my analysis."

Robin took a copy of the report and looked it over. She was right: the doctor had diagnosed Forde Willow with heatstroke and advised him to take the following day off for bedrest and a steady supply of fluids. Symptoms noted included overheating sensation, shortness of breath, difficulty with brain functioning, and agitated behavior. Agitated behavior? He looked through more of the report and found an explanation: an abrasion had been discovered on Forde's neck that the doctor had suggested came from Forde accidentally choking himself with his shirt collar while desperately attempting to remove it. The police had made a note of the shirt, left inside-out on the floor of the room.

"I'll be damned," Fado said, his voice regaining some of its humor, "She got us good. What do you make of it, lad?"

"It explains a lot… but I don't buy it," Robin said.

"Ho ho, so soon? I must be rubbing off on you."

"Well, I don't have a lot of direct evidence for this, but something here strikes me as odd: Ursula said Forde might have stumbled around before passing out, not quite knowing what he was doing, but Amelia made note of how coordinated the footsteps she heard were. If Ursula wants to discredit Forde's testimony, then Amelia's must be true, which still leaves us with a question."

"You're sinking your teeth deep into the details now, my boy. Good work. How do you think we proceed?"

"Ursula is trying to confuse us by pulling something we wouldn't expect: she deliberately disadvantaged herself to cover up a point we made, but now we have the opportunity to retaliate."

"Listen to you." Fado gave him a slanted grin. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you had an idea what you're talking about."

Let's hope the jury is similarly duped.

"Mr. LeBlanc," said the judge, "do you have any response to the prosecution's remarks? Or are you in agreement with their conclusions?"

"New testimony means I have the right to a re-cross, Your Honor," Robin told him, "I'd like to ask the witness some more questions."

"Of course, by all means."

"Mr. Willow, I hope you know you've put yourself in a very bad spot by saying these things." Robin tried hard to make his eyes menacing.

"H-Huh? What do you mean?" The witness was wiping sweat from his forehead.

"If we can't rely on your testimony about going to the employee lounge, then we can't rely on your alibi about being in there, either, can we?"

"W-What?! Please, back up that train of thought!"

"Ursula said you experienced heatstroke, but that came from the description of your symptoms to a doctor after the fact, right? If that's true, then what's to say you didn't just make it up?"

"Gah…! I… I didn't! Really, I promise! I swear, I got overheated and passed out in the lounge!"

Robin shook his head. "According to the prosecution, your testimony can't be trusted, even if you yourself believe it. We can only rely on the testimony of Ms. Arealla, who heard her coworker's footsteps moving after the blackout, the only time the crime could have been committed, thanks to the surveillance cameras."

"What? No, no, no. Not good. Hey, Ms. Prosecutor Lady, please, help me!"

"I cannot dismiss the possibility brought up by the defense," Ursula said. Forde's head sank and he muttered to himself. "However, if the defense wishes to pursue this line of reasoning, they must be aware that they are making a very serious accusation. Let's not mince words, Mr. LeBlanc: are you formally indicting Forde Willow with the murder?"

If Amelia's story is true, and it really isn't Pelleas, then the only other option is Forde. No one else had any opportunity to poison Leila during that blackout. Still, I'd better be cautious. I've been thinking I'd found ways around Ursula's reasoning several times already, and every time she's managed to spring some kind of trap on me. She might have been counting on me taking this approach, and, in that case, she might just be waiting to put the final nail in all this. At the same time, if I don't do something decisive here, I may lose my chance of swinging the momentum of this trial back in my favor. What can I do? It's one trap or another… unless… unless there's something else that can get me out of this sink. That's right, there's one element of the scene that I've heard about but hasn't been investigated yet. Maybe that's my ticket out of this.

The judge quieted the murmur in the court with his gavel. "Mr. LeBlanc, I would also have your answer. Do you plan to formally indict the witness?"

"I'd like to ask the witness one more question before making my decision, Your Honor."

"Go on."

"Mr. Willow, this is going to end badly for you if it keeps on in this way. I'm giving you a chance right now, so think hard: is there someone who can account for your whereabouts during the blackout?"

The waiter pinched his chin and cocked his head to the side. "Someone else… someone who can… Oh! Oh! There totally is! Yes, there is someone!" His face lit up with joy as he realized it.

"And who would that be?" Robin asked.

"Why, the chef, of course," he answered, "Dozla Spokony!"

Ursula grimaced. "Ugh, not that idiot…!"

"Your Honor, in the interest of fairness to the witness, I will not indict him until I hear testimony regarding his whereabouts from Mr. Dozla Spokony."

"Very well." The judge pounded the desk with his gavel again, "Does the prosecution require time to prepare?"

"Regrettably, Your Honor," Ursula said through a strained scowl, "The witness was not kept in custody, due to his testimony having little to do with the crime. It will take some time to summon him."

"Then this court will take a thirty-minute recess. I trust this will provide adequate time to bring the witness here and prepare him for questioning?"

"Yes, Your Honor. Thank you."

The judge rapped his gavel once more. "Court is now in recess."

[April 17th, 12:20 pm, District Court-Defendant Lobby No. 1]

Robin pushed his fingers into his temple as he sat on the couch, thinking things through. It was only a moment before he heard his mentor's heavy footsteps following him and looked up.

"Well now," Fado said with a bigger grin than usual, "You seem to be doing just fine for your first trial, my boy, just fine. What do you think? Is it like you imagined."

"I feel like my heart is going to leap out of my throat every time I open my mouth to speak."

Fado laughed at the ceiling, big shoulders shaking. "You're more like me than you know, son. Don't worry, those jitters will die down a little with time. So far, I'm impressed with how you've been holding your own. Prosecutor Verra certainly isn't pulling any punches with you."

"If you say so. It feels like I'm playing a big game of cat and mouse with her. No matter what I say, she's always got something ready for it. I'm worried that I don't have any way to break down her arguments without bolstering more of them."

"A wise man once said, 'argument is meant to reveal the truth, not to create it.'"

"And what does that mean, exactly?"

"It means that being foiled by your opposing counsel is all part of the trial experience, boy. If the conclusion to the question of the day were so obvious that you could find it in one go, there'd be no need for a trial. Instead, we have two sides with competing explanations struggling against each other to show whose conclusion is more rational. So, focus on that more than the prosecutor herself: her arguments are just incorrect retellings that you have to explain away."

"It's a lot simpler in theory."

"That it is, lad."

"What do you think the chef will have to say? Can he really validate Forde's alibi?"

"Couldn't say as I know. I liked the look on Ursula's face when she realized she would have to call on him though, heh heh! Whether he verifies the alibi or not, you'll have some new tools to work with, so I think you did well."

"Thanks, sir. And thanks for being here with me. I know for sure I'd be sunk without you around."

"Ha! You think I'd let my junior employee flounder by himself on his first trial? No, you'll find your own path soon, but for now, you still need some guidance. I'll be here to provide that until then."

"I wonder when that'll be…"

"Sooner than you'd think, I imagine."

"Are you getting at something, sir?"

"Just that you're a very competent employee so far, son."

Robin frowned. "I'm not quite as good at reading people as you are, sir, but I can tell a blatant lie when I hear one. Is something wrong?"

Fado tilted his head. "Wrong? No, nothing's wrong. I have some bigger plans on the way."

"Interesting. Care to fill me in?"

"These plans don't concern you just yet, son. When you get a little more experience under your belt, then we'll need to have a long conversation, but for right now, you just need to concentrate on being the best lawyer you can be, all right?"

"If you say so, sir."

"Here's a simple question for you, though: if I were to go away on a kind of retreat for a few weeks, do you think you'd be able to handle the office while I'm away?"

"Not really… I'm only just learning the ropes, and with all the clients you get, I don't know how I could ever…"

The senior attorney looked away. "Heh. Going to have to delay my vacation a bit longer, then. Oh well. I suppose I predicted as much."

"I'm sorry if it's a problem, sir. I want to do whatever you ask, but I'd be worried about ruining your reputation with my inexperience."

"Not to worry, son. You make a fair point. Like I said, we'll get you through a few more trials, let you find your footing, and then I'll take my little time off."

"Of course, sir," Robin said, eyeing his mentor suspiciously.

"Pardon me." They heard a voice from behind both of them, and Fado shuffled out of the way to find a spot on the sofa beside his employee. "The bailiff ushered me out here. I wondered if I could speak to you."

"Absolutely," Robin said, "Please, Mr. Apoleus, as your attorney, I'd be happy to discuss anything with you."

"Thank you, Mr. LeBlanc," the defendant said, taking a seat in an armchair across from him, "With that said, may I speak candidly for a bit?"

"By all means."

"Initially, I was very concerned about your qualifications. In fact, I still am."

Ouch. For such a timid-looking guy, he sure doesn't mind straight talk.

"However, I do realize what a difficult position I've placed you in, and I apologize. I know it can't be easy to defend someone with practically no alibi."

"That's for me to worry about, not you, Mr. Apoleus. Please, don't apologize. We're going to figure this out, one way or another."

"So, knowing Ylissean law to be what it is, do you have another suspect in mind? Do you really intend to accuse that waiter?"

"Knowing the law to be what it is… what do you mean by that, exactly?"

"He's talking about the Culpability Substitute Clause, Robin," Fado chimed in, giving Robin a glare to suggest that he should have already known this.

"That's right," Robin recalled, "In order to fully acquit a defendant in a criminal trial, defense attorneys must prove the defendant's innocence by virtue of building a case against another party, or, in some cases, by attributing it to an accident or suicide. Well, you should know that I don't have any evidence that directly incriminates Mr. Willow, Mr. Apoleus."

"I see." He winced noticeably. "That is regrettable."

"However," Robin continued, his voice apologetic, "I'm growing increasingly more convinced that something isn't quite the way it seems, I'm just trying to figure out what it is, exactly."

"Feelings and senses seldom capture the public's attention, however," Fado reminded him with an instructive undertone to his voice, "For now, you need to concentrate on showing the court how it was impossible for Mr. Apoleus to have committed the crime. If you can do that, finding a scapegoat is secondary. It can be anything incidental, we just have to keep the heat off the defendant."

Robin cocked an eyebrow. "Er, with all due respect, sir, that's not really good enough for me, either. I want to make sure the person getting put away is the person who really committed the crime."

This provoked a broader-than-usual grin from Fado. "I knew there was something I liked about you, kid."

"…Thanks?"

"Welcome."

"Well… er, Mr. Apoleus," said Robin, "If it's all right with you, I'd like to take a moment to ask you about some of the case, if you don't mind."

"Not at all," the ambassador replied, "Anything I can do to help."

"Right, so, you and the victim, Ms. Viscount, you agreed to meet at this place beforehand, right?"

"Yes, about a week in advance. It was official business, so I notified all the employees in my office that I'd be out around that time."

"As an ambassador, do you meet a lot of people out of the office?"

"Not all too often. Most of my job is sifting through mail, whether of the handwritten or electronic variety. I help resolve disputes on small criminal issues and decide whether or not to grant certain amnesties. As per my meeting with Ms. Viscount, I also engage in the exchange of information between Ylisse and Plegia, especially sensitive documents and the like."

"Sensitive documents, eh? There would happen to have been any of those present on the day of the crime, would there?"

Pelleas swallowed. "Not at all. They were all quite boring. Updates to agricultural regulations, mostly."

"Mr. Apoleus," Robin said, straining his brow, "I don't think it's a very good idea to lie to your own attorney. Especially when you don't seem to be very good at it."

"W-What? I don't know what you mean. I told you the absolute truth!"

"In the trial, you said the case you took with you was full of reports on illicit trading. Now it's agriculture? Which is it, Mr. Apoleus?"

"I-It's both."

"From your tone of voice, I don't believe you."

"W-Well, that's rather inconvenient. In fact, I'm a bit upset that you'd doubt me, your own client. Why would I not be fully transparent?"

"Happens more often than you'd think," said Fado, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table in front of him.

"As attorney and client, our level of trust is a two-way street, Mr. Apoleus. I'm willing to believe in your innocence, but you have to be entirely honest with me if you want any chance of succeeding in this trial."

"But… what makes you so sure I'm not being honest?"

"You're acting pretty anxious for someone just telling the truth. Moreover, there's something you said in the trial that's been bothering me for quite a while, a remark that went totally unnoticed."

"Hm?"

"When you were talking about how you and the victim would sometimes get into arguments, you said something about your father, but you never elaborated on it. What was that about?"

Pelleas hesitated, and his eyes seemed to sink beneath his brow, getting darker. "Mr. LeBlanc… you have to understand that what I'm about to say isn't public knowledge… If word gets out, it could spark an international incident. That's why I'd like to keep this under wraps."

"Mr. Apoleus… Right, I understand. Please, tell me what this is about."

"As you wish, although this may take a few minutes… My father—that is, my stepfather, Ashnard Daein, was… shall we say, a political activist in Ylisse. He wasn't a fan of the direction the country was going, and he held frequent demonstrations with other like-minded individuals who were opposed to Ylisse creating more cordial relations with Plegia. Their group kept growing more and more radical until, eventually, their demonstrations became violent, and Ashnard, er, my father was branded a criminal. Feeling rejected by the country he claimed to fight for, he did the only thing he thought was right under the circumstances… allegedly, anyway."

"Allegedly? What in the world did he do?"

"He assassinated the king of Plegia. So an investigation determined, anyway."

"What?!" Robin leapt off the sofa.

"My stepfather assassinated King Abdiel Weissman of Plegia. That's what the investigators said, anyway."

"No… the king?" Robin's jaw hung open.

"Don't tell me you didn't hear about it, Robin," Fado said, frowning.

"On the contrary," he replied, "It was all anyone talked about for years. I just had no idea that he had a son. Or stepson, as it were."

"Ashnard was tried by a Ylissean court the very next day and hanged shortly after he was found guilty. Unfortunately, no one was particularly satisfied with that resolution—not Ylisseans or Plegians, and so, even after his death, the weight of the sins of the father have been laid squarely upon the son."

"Ah… I'm sorry to hear that, Mr. Apoleus."

"Don't trouble yourself over it. It's something I've dealt with for quite some time."

"But, if you don't mind my asking, what does that have to do with Ms. Viscount, or the documents you received?"

"Ah, y-yes, that's the thing… You see, included with the usual mix of regulatory papers, Leila had snuck in an independent investigation she'd commissioned from a man living in Ostia. The result showed evidence strongly indicating that Ashnard hadn't really killed the king."

"R-Really?! But that's great news for you! Why keep that secret?"

"The group that my stepfather led… they were only emboldened by his execution. They've attacked Plegians and Ylisseans alike, and their following has grown in the years since then. If it were to come out that Ylisse had executed an innocent man, the effects on Ylisse could be catastrophic. Not to mention, Plegians would be livid that Ylisse had failed to give them justice. It would spark an uproar that would mean the end of my career at best and the beginning of a war at worst."

Robin swallowed hard. "That's… a pretty compelling reason, I suppose. But wait, then what were you and Leila fighting over?"

"Despite my telling her exactly what I just told you, she was berating me for not having the courage to tell the public the truth. Even when I told her it wasn't so simple, she just kept on about it, so I asked her to stop, and I… may have raised my voice in the process."

"I take it your other arguments were on a similar subject."

Pelleas nodded.

Robin sat back down. "Well… this complicates matters pretty substantially."

"I'll say," Fado agreed.

"I guess there's only conclusion we can draw from all this, huh?"

"Go on," Fado said, turning to face his pupil with eyes full of interest.

"If Leila had that information, and she was giving it to Pelleas, but she ended up dead… I'd be willing to bet gold to grapes that someone didn't want that transfer to happen. Do you know what became of the case, Mr. Apoleus?"

"I haven't seen it since I was arrested. I understood it was seized by the police as evidence," the blue-haired ambassador answered.

"But no one brought it up," Robin finished his thought, "So there's some argument to be made that I'm not way off-base."

"Yeah, but try bringing it up with no context." Fado laughed. "Ursula'll have a field day."

"Right, so what do we do?"

"Keep going like you were. Work backwards until we have a leg to stand on. So, someone didn't want the info to get to Pelleas. Who? Why?"

"It'd have to be someone with an interest in Ylisse-Plegia politics. Maybe they didn't want the results of Leila's investigation to get out. Or maybe they wanted to make the revelation themselves and sow chaos in both countries."

"Equally valid but mutually exclusive deductions, my boy. Which do you think is more likely?"

"Well, the murder happened some time ago, and we haven't heard anything yet. My guess is they just wanted to keep it quiet."

"Good thinking. So, what does that tell us?"

"Not much. The members of Ashnard's group would definitely want the truth to get out, and so would just about anyone else I can think of… at least on paper. Maybe there was a government official who was worried Pelleas was actually going to take Leila's advice."

"Now there's a thought. Certainly makes our situation that much more interesting, but who do you suppose would do that? And why wouldn't they just speak to Pelleas, if that's the case?"

"Maybe the person was Plegian, and whatever their endgame, it was to ultimately serve Plegia, so directly contacting a Ylissean ambassador wouldn't be a good move. As for who would be in such a situation, I haven't got a clue. If any of this is leading up to something, it's something far greater than I can fathom right now."

"Well, why not ask the ambassador?" Fado said, lifting his hand to gesture at the young, blue-haired man.

"Good point," Robin agreed, "Mr. Apoleus, do you know any Plegians who might have been especially interested in getting their hands on that information?"

"Several, if they knew about it," Pelleas answered, "but few who would choose to withhold it afterward."

"Anyone in particular?"

"My knowledge of the Plegian criminal world is somewhat limited, but, if memory serves, Abdiel Weissman had a son who became a bit of a ruffian when his family was removed from the palace."

"That's right," Fado thought aloud, "Weissman had a son, but he never inherited the throne."

"He was pushed out when the Reformation Government was installed, right after the assassination," Robin added, "It was a big point in Plegian political history: the constitutional monarchy they'd established gave way to a more theocratic system, as the leader of the Plegian clergy at that time was installed in Abdiel's place."

"Still… would Abdiel Weissman's son want to hide the identity of his father's killer?"

Robin shook his head. "It doesn't really add up, does it?"

"It doesn't. And moreover, we're getting a bit off-track. Let's bring those lofty conspiracy theories back down to the level of this trial: who would've tried to intercept the message? Or, more accurately, who could have intercepted it?"

"Technically, anyone in the café, but the prosecution has claimed over and over that only the waitstaff were moving at the time."

"But we're about to see whether or not that holds true."

"Right. A lot is depending upon that next testimony. I wonder what the chef will be like…"

"In my experience," Fado said, leaning forward and pressing his index finger into his forehead, "There's only two types of chefs: big, hairy guys who laugh at everything and thin-as-a-rail strict types who hurl insults like baseballs."

"What about women?"

"Most fit into Category Two."

"Which one do you think we'll get?"

"It's a café, so my guess is a thin-as-a-rail type."

Great. I really needed a lot more insults flying around today.

They were all distracted by a buzzing that came from Fado's pocket. He peered down at the screen and then met both their eyes apologetically before raising the phone to his ear. "What's the story?"

He listened and nodded.

"No, we're still at the trial. Yeah, quite a bit longer. Yep, looking like one of those days. Hm? Oh! Heh, he's doing just fine. He really warms up once he gets into the courtroom, heh heh! Uh-huh. Yeah? Oh, I hear you. Don't worry, I will. Ha ha! Nothing, nothing. All right. What? Of course, use my card. Yes, absolutely. I'll give you a call when we're finishing up. All right. Thanks, doll." Fado ended the call and stowed the phone back in his pocket. "That was my secretary, Anna," he said to Pelleas, "She wanted to make sure we hadn't gotten lost, ha ha!"

"She worries after Fado like crazy," Robin added, "She calls him all the time when we're away from the office."

"She likes to keep an eye on me for my wife's sake. If you want the truth, I think she pays Anna a little bonus to spy on me." Fado let out another bolt of laughter. "And she wanted me to wish you good luck on her behalf, Robin."

"Really?" He cocked an eyebrow. "Funny, I had it in my head that she didn't like me very much."

"That may well be. Could be she's only being polite." Fado laughed again as if this was greatly amusing.

Sure. Dash my hopes of having a good relationship with my only coworker. That's hilarious, Fado.

"Well," Fado continued, sitting back into the sofa, "I think we've made some good progress, and I'm glad to see you looking a lot less nervous, lad. I think, with enough work, we can turn this trial right around. We're just missing a few more pieces."

Pieces like "who, what, when, how, and why," yeah. Nice and easy. And what does he mean by progress? We're right back where we started before we left the courtroom! We still need to hear the testimony to find out if Amelia or Forde was telling the truth, and then we have to figure out what that means for our case quickly, or we're done for.

"You look worried, son," Fado told Robin, smiling at him, "There's no need to despair. You should be busy reviewing the evidence we've collected so far. Once you've got it all in your head, you should be able to start making the connections you'll need in order to win this trial."

"I wish it were as easy as that," said Robin.

"Let me give you a tip," his mentor went on, "remember what you did just a bit ago: you recalled a bit of minor information that Pelleas let slip early on in the trial, and you used it to drag a bigger truth out of him because the situation you had uncovered thus far re-contextualized that minor information. That's where you should be focusing your efforts: knowing what you know, does the meaning of anything you thought you knew suddenly change?"

"…Fado, if you know the answer, you don't have to be so cagey."

"Ha ha! I don't know a thing more than you do, boy. I'm giving you ways to think about the trial, that's all."

Only Fado could be so confident about not knowing anything.

Suddenly, the three turned their heads as a guard opened the door to the court. "Defense, court will reconvene in a few minutes. Please head inside."

They rose up from their seats and walked to the door.

[Turnabout Collapse ~ Trial Mid—end]