[November 9th, 7:16 am, Roncontra Hotel]

When Robin woke up that morning, he didn't feel the chill of the overworked air conditioner clinging to his skin. He didn't feel the stiffness or slowness that normally affected him when he usually got out of bed. Instead, he sprang right up and into the bathroom for a shower. By the time he was done, Anna and Morgan were up and milling about with the same energy. Anna had put on the news, which was discussing the recent trial, featuring an artist's rendering of Ephraim as he told the court what he'd been ordered to do.

Robin stroked back his still-wet hair as he watched Anna type feverishly on her laptop. "It's like we never left the office," he said to no one in particular.

"In a way, we didn't," said Anna. "All the essentials are still here."

Police sirens sounded off in the distance. Robin's attention diverted for a moment, and he looked out the window. Three sets of blue and red lights flashed in a line before an assembly of people holding signs. Robin couldn't make out their chants or what their signs said, but it was a good bet that it had something to do with the trial, especially what the news had just been reporting on.

There was a stirring within his chest, and, at the same time, an intense pressure, like the exhilaration of lifting a set of too-heavy weights above one's head. Or like jumping into a building just as a strike of lightning lands outside, and the sky cracks with thunder as the door slams shut. Things were coming to a head, and the world was sucking in its collective breath in anticipation.

"What's the plan of attack, Boss?" Morgan asked, pumping her fists like a boxer.

"There's only one thing left for us to do," he answered, "find out who exactly hired Valter Mani. Somehow, I doubt he'll give that information up willingly, so we'll have to figure it out on our own."

"But from the sound of it, that person is embedded in the Plegian government," said Morgan. "How are we going to figure out who it is if they've got all sorts of security and secrecy to hide them?"

"We'll just have to do it the old fashioned way: pure logical deduction."

"Eliminating the impossible," said Anna. "Good luck, you've got a helluva suspect list at that rate."

"Well, we won't be looking at every Plegian official one by one. We'll narrow our list down with the evidence we have, and then use whatever else we can find to reach our conclusion."

"It sounds easy when you put it that way," Morgan said with a smile.

"It won't be," said Anna.

"Nothing ever is," Robin finished. His phone buzzed, letting him know a text he'd sent very early had finally received a response. "For now, we've got a lead to follow up on. Come with me, Morgan."

"Right behind you, Boss."

"Don't forget, you're bringing lunch back with you this time!" Anna called after them. She frowned when she realized they probably hadn't heard her.

[November 9th, 9:12 am, Pablo Plaza]

Robin came face-to-face with Heather along the corner of the sidewalk. She was shrouded in the same cloak from when they had met at the bazaar the other day. This time, Robin was glad to not have to worry about the figure's intentions. He still double-checked that Morgan was right beside him anyway. "Thanks for meeting me again," Robin said.

"Sure," Heather answered him curtly. Her attention was elsewhere.

"Still hiding out, huh? You think someone's looking for you?"

"Of course they are. After what you and Ephraim pulled in yesterday's trial, the whole Plegian government is in a tailspin. There's protests sparking up in cities all across the country. People are demanding answers, and the Plegian government is demanding they shut up. You put a pretty big spotlight on yourself, not to mention anyone involved in those proceedings."

"I guess I did… heh heh, that doesn't do a lot of good for my nerves. That said, in some way, that level of scrutiny is kind of a benefit."

"Huh? In what world is that level of notoriety a good thing?"

"Well, I'm exploring some pretty dangerous topics. Stuff that the Plegian government might not want me to know. But now that people know who I am and what I'm doing, they'll be immediately suspicious if I'm to… 'disappear.'"

Heather snorted. "You're the only guy I know who could be so glib about the idea of his own assassination, Robin. I think that's what I like about you."

"I hope you'll still like me once this whole thing blows over," Robin said, "I'm certainly not making your job any easier."

"No, you're not. So, I guess it depends on how all this goes. If I end up wasting my time, I'm not going to be happy. Now, I assume you wanted me here for something."

"Yes, although, I'm still thinking my way through things. I know I'm most likely going to need your help with today's investigation, but I don't know exactly when I'll need it, so I was wondering if you wouldn't mind tagging along a little."

"When I tail people, it's usually without their prior knowledge. I don't think it'd do your image much good to have a shady figure like me hanging around while you investigate. Plus, I can't afford to have too many people see my face."

"I guess that's true… Is there any way I could have you on-call? Like, if I find something that requires your attention?"

"I'm not anybody's secretary, but I'll try to make myself as available as I can. What d'you figure you're going to find, anyway?"

"At this point, I'm still not sure, but given how far up the totem pole this goes, and given the fact that I needed you just to get this far, I have a sneaking suspicion that I'll need you for at least a part of whatever plan I come up with."

"I think I understand." Heather looked up at Robin and smiled. "Slow down, kid. Your mouth's moving a mile a minute. I'll help you out wherever I can, just as long as there aren't too many prying eyes around, okay?"

"I think I can make that work. Thanks, Heather."

"Don't mention it. So… where are you headed first?"

"Back to the beginning."

[November 9th, 9:56 am, Ereb Detention Center]

The detention center was as drab as ever when Robin sat down. Across from him, the cell's inhabitant wasn't looking that much livelier, although there was a noticeable difference in him from the first time Robin had laid eyes on him.

"Mr. LeBlanc," Renault Desombres greeted him, "good to see you again. I was missing you a trifle after our last interaction."

"I'm sorry we still have to meet in here, Mr. Desombres," Robin replied. "I'd much rather we have this conversation somewhere outside these walls."

"Oh, don't trouble yourself over that. That's just the good old SCC in action—forcing defense attorneys to play both defense and prosecution in one trial even when all the world can see the truth… this is exactly the sort of thing Fado and I discussed."

"Really? You talked about the SCC?"

"Oh my, yes. Among other things. Fado had a lot of hope for Ylisse and Plegia's legal futures, but he said it all had to start with the abolishment of that silly rule. Change is slow, though, and people rarely rally over something so dull as the law. Why bother making changes when you can just treat anyone suspected of a crime like a criminal and leave them to rot? Ylisse's complacency has allowed things like that to happen. And then, here in Plegia, their procedural and discovery rules are totally hostile to anyone other than the state-approved prosecution. Here, it's fear that keeps people down. Weed yourself out as one who questions the establishment's morality, and see yourself shunned by your entire community. It's a farce… one grand farce. Something I tried to leave behind… and look where it's gotten me."

Robin watched Renault's eyes dart back and forth during his soliloquy, as if he were imagining a grand amphitheater around him. "Despite all that, Fado had hope that it would change?"

"He certainly did. And I'll tell you what else: you were the one that gave him that hope, Robin. More than anyone, he chatted about you all day, how you represented the future of Ylissean law. He was so proud of you."

Robin's eye twitched. He rubbed it. Morgan watched her employer bow his head out of Renault's view for a moment. "That… means a lot. Thank you."

"Of course, lad."

"I have to say, Mr. Desombres, you're being pretty talkative about you, Fado, and the future of law now, despite how ready you were to go to the gallows when we first met."

"Heh. Well, that was on you, too, son. I wasn't sure if you were really everything Fado had made you out to be, but… having watched you at work, I think I finally sense the magic he was getting at. You really have a way of making a man feel like anything could be possible, given enough time."

"Thank you. Although, time isn't a luxury we have a lot of at this point."

"It most certainly isn't. That's why I've resolved to tell you absolutely everything I know so that you can finish this thing out properly."

"'Everything you know?' So you were concealing things before."

"Of course I was. And now I think you know why. Forces bigger than you or me are at work here, boy. But you and Fado's boy, Ephraim… haha! You've shown you're not afraid of those blighters for a moment. So, if you're going to stick your necks out like that, I ought to at least give you the best chance you have of not losing 'em."

"That's a… colorful visualization."

Renault pushed himself up against the cell wall to straighten his sitting posture. "Out with it, then. What's on your mind?"

After taking a moment to figure out how to phrase it, Robin told him: "The first and only thing we need to prove is who hired Valter Mani. We know without a doubt that he was the assassin that killed Fado, and we know he was hired by a Plegian government official, but that's where our evidence ends. I want to know if you might have any idea who might have done something like that."

"I may have something for you to think about," Renault answered, sighing, "but you might not find it very pleasant. Still want to hear about it?"

"Of course." Robin's eyes were wide.

"All right, no turning back now, then. Let's begin with a little history. Tell me, Robin, what's the first thing you remember? You went to boarding school, didn't you? What was your first day there like?"

"I don't remember a lot very clearly. I think I remember my mother's perfume, and the feel of her hands, and her hair, that first day she dropped me off. There's no face in that memory, though, just shapes. And I never saw her again. Nor my father. I don't even remember him being around."

"That makes enough sense. Were you old enough to hear about what happened to Morgana Grimme?"

"Oh, yeah. It was all anyone talked about for a while."

Morgan scratched her head. "Who's Morgana Grimme?"

"She used to be the queen of Plegia back when I was little," Robin answered, "but she took ill suddenly and passed away. It was very sad. All the women teachers at my school were upset about it for weeks. They looked up to her a lot. Reading about it after the fact, she was an unprecedented voice of compassion and support for Plegia's homeless and destitute populations. It's no wonder a lot of those women looked up to her."

Morgan smiled. "Yeah. She seems like she was a really great lady."

"And I wonder how those teacher's would've felt if they knew they were being fed a lie."

"Beg pardon?"

Renault smirked. "The Plegian population at large was told that Morgana Grimme suddenly took ill and died. The truth is, she was pushed over a railing at the castle."

"W-What?!"

"Terrible thing. They wrapped her up quickly. She was bleeding out of a crack in her skull. They couldn't have anyone knowing that someone had infiltrated their defenses so easily. And so they hid it."

"What are you talking about? Who is 'they?'"

"Why, the Plegian government, son. If you lived around the castle at that time, you'd know there were all sorts of rumors floating around about it when it first happened: she tripped, she was drunk… they accused every man, woman, and child in Plegia of pushing her… ultimately, though, they just kept things quiet. They were afraid someone was targeting the Grimmes, and they didn't want anyone to know they'd failed to protect one of them."

"Someone… targeting the Grimmes?"

"Of course. I'm sure you know they've never been the most popular rulers in this country."

"That's true, but…"

"Um… what was wrong with the Grimmes?" Morgan asked, "Did they do something people didn't like?"

"Yeah," Robin answered her again, "they deposed the previous government. Up until the Grimmes took power, Plegia had been a constitutional monarchy. Abdiel Weissman was the last king of Plegia, and he was allegedly assassinated by a Ylissean terrorist named Ashnard Daein."

"Oh, that's right. You talked about that with your client in your first trial, didn't you?"

Gears started to turn in Robin's head. "Yes, I did."

"The fact that you say 'allegedly' assassinated tells me you're in the right headspace, lad," Renault said, finishing with a little laugh. "Yes, Abdiel Weissman was killed, and in the anarchy that came from that incident, the Reformation government was created, and Validar Grimme took over as the new ruler of Plegia, along with his wife, Morgana. Many folks didn't like Validar because he had ties to very fundamentalist sects of the Grimleal ideology. Then again, many people also thought that made him quite a pious man, and just the sort for the job. The whole country was divided on the matter. And when Morgana died, the Reformation government figured the other side was making their move."

"So, what is it you're driving at, exactly?" Robin asked.

"I'm sure that you know that the Grimmes have never had an heir."

"Right. I chalked that up to Morgana dying."

"But the whole nation knows that Validar was never a sentimental man. He didn't spend much time weeping after she passed. So if that was all that was stopping him, shouldn't he have remarried?"

"You think there's a reason he couldn't?"

Renault said nothing, but grinned slyly.

"Or maybe he didn't need to…? Wait… are you saying they did have a child? Like, in secret?"

Renault nodded. "That's right. They had a son not long before Morgana's death. When she died, they decided not to include the child on any official records for fear that someone might come after him. For as apathetic as he was about his wife, Validar was very protective of his heir. When he came of age, they sent him off to school under a different name and left him in the faculty's care."

Sweat began to accumulate on Robin's temple as his mind worked furiously. "How do you know all this? Do you know who this child is?"

"I heard a lot about some of your previous cases," Renault mused, "did you ever stop to think about how you've managed to get involved with a lot of assassins who have roots in Plegia?"

"Yes, I did. But what does that… Oh. Oh no. You're not… you're not seriously trying to tell me…"

Renault leveled his eyes with Robin's. They were as sharp as a knife. "Robin, how would you feel if I told you your last name wasn't 'LeBlanc?'"

Robin swallowed. "I'd find that very upsetting."

"And what if I told you that was my last name?"

Robin's vision blurred. "I… I wouldn't know what to think of that. What… what in the world are we talking about, here?"

"If you're still confused, let me tell you a different story that ties into this one. A story of a young man who was eager to live fast and burn out bright. A story of a man who wanted to fight against something, but had no idea what that was. My story."

"Y-Yours?"

"That's right. Many years ago, yours truly was a solider in the Caelin army. I did a few tours, and then got sent home, but it wasn't enough for me. When I got back to living with the civilians in Caelin… it just never felt like home. It had never felt like home, but when I came back, it really struck me. Living there just felt… wrong. So I left home and joined a private military company based in Ostia. They sent me all over the world, mostly running private security for less-than-scrupulous types. At one point, I took on an assignment in Plegia. I could tell this one was big, because all my contacts used codenames. We weren't allowed to know who they were, and they promised they wouldn't look us up at all. That turned out to be a lie. Anyway, we were given a pretty simple job: guard a certain building overnight. They were worried about someone raiding the place, and so we were supposed to protect the folks living inside. Real sketchy job, and that's coming from someone who did sketchy jobs for a living. Totally mismanaged, too, because they never even gave us a floor plan or even a photo of the bastards we were supposed to protect. That's probably why it happened like it did."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Our contacts' fears were validated. The place came under attack. It was a bad scene. Started with explosions outside, and then the rooms filled with smoke. Our enemies were professionals, but so were we. We figured we could outfox them, and started clearing rooms one by one. Then a trap sprung and blew a guy's legs off. We were a lot more careful after that. We kept ducking from room to room, and, eventually, got separated. I heard two more of my guys get shot to death on my earpiece. And that's why… when someone suddenly opened the door in front of me… without thinking, my fingers tensed, and I shot at the door. I saw a big guy slump to the floor, bleeding, and then I noticed that he wasn't carrying a weapon. I started drawing a little closer, and then I saw… I saw…"

At this point, Renault seemed to be choking on his words. His breathing had become ragged. Robin eased back, hoping to give his client some space.

"It was a kid. A little boy. He got on his knees shaking the big guy I shot. My brain started working again at that point, and I realized what I had just done: I'd shot one of the guys I'd been assigned to protect. As you can imagine, I was frightened out of my wits. I may very well have soiled myself in the moment. I can barely even remember the rest of the night, although I remember every detail of that room: the big bed, the tiny nightstand with the little gold lamp, the gold box of cards on there, the way the gray walls that were all chipping away, the little red rugs, and, of course, the smell of smoke and blood… It was all clear as day. I flung myself out of the window of that room to get away from there and twisted my ankle getting out. I ran into the wasteland beyond there… it was all sand. Everything looked the same, and I just kept running, running, running. No purpose, no direction, just running… and then, finally, I stopped breathing. I couldn't see anymore. My body just gave out."

"But then, who…?" Morgan squeaked.

"Hold on, Morgan," Robin told her, "just give him a moment."

"When I regained consciousness, I was shackled to a bench in some kind of basement. I saw my contacts again there. They told me what had happened: the man I'd shot was King Abdiel Weissman of Plegia."

Robin started. His eyes widened tremendously, but he stayed silent to let Renault speak.

"They—my contacts—they were members of the Plegian government. They said they learned what happened, and that if they could, they would've had me executed. As it stood, though, they couldn't tell the public that they'd let their own king be murdered by some idiot mercenary they'd hired. So, instead, they chose to cover it up. Pretend the people who'd stormed the building that night had gotten to him. It almost happened that way, anyhow. Incidentally… that was Ashnard Daein's group. Buncha savages, that's all I can say. At that point, they gave me a choice… well, it was more like an ultimatum. They didn't want to kill me, because it would be tough to sweep under the rug. Instead, they offered me the chance to work someplace where I'd be under their constant supervision. I'd never be allowed to leave the country again, and, of course, I wasn't to breathe a word of what had really happened that night, but I would live. They said they thought that was a whole hell of a lot better than dying, and I agreed, so I signed a contract, and that was it. They gave me a new name and identity, and then shipped me out.

"In some ways, I've come to regret that choice. There were a lot of days I woke up wishing they'd killed me on the spot so I didn't have to live with the guilt of upending an entire nation like that. But… in another respect, the post they gave me was a good one. It gave me a chance to repent for what I'd done. Some days, I actually felt whole again—like a person. In ways I hadn't felt since I joined the army."

"What did they have you do?" Morgan asked.

"I was set up as a headmaster at a boarding school on the outskirts of Ereb. In fact, I still come by there from time to time, but I'm retired now. Or I was, until this whole thing started. While I was still working there, though, I was informed of a unique situation that I was going to have to handle: the new king, Validar Grimme, was worried about his son's safety, so he was going to place him in my care until it was time for him to ascend the throne. One day, a little white-haired boy showed up on the doorstep of my school, and I greeted him. I asked his caretakers what I should call him. They said I wasn't to use his last name, but that his mother had liked the name "Robin," so I stuck with it. I named the kid after me. I gave him my real name, before it was stolen by those bastards, my final act of rebellion against the people that had enslaved me. He would be my shining hope for the future, and my only way to spit in their face while I bided my time… his name would be Robin LeBlanc."

Robin stared at Renault quietly for several seconds as he processed the information. He looked down at one of his own hands as if it were alien to him, and then dropped it back down to his side. "And… that's all true?"

"Every word of it. I have no reason to lie to you, so I'm telling you everything you need to know, just like I promised I would."

"So… 'LeBlanc…' That's your name?"

"That's right. I was born Renault LeBlanc. Desombres was a pseudonym I was given when I started working as the headmaster."

"And I'm… you're saying I'm really Robin Grimme? The son of Validar and Morgana Grimme."

"That's correct."

"That's… it feels so bizarre. That name is so alien to me. It belongs in history books… it has nothing to do with me. I feel so much more attached to LeBlanc."

"Because it's the mantle you've worn all your life. And I was the one who gave it to you. I'm sorry if that bothers you. I had no right to impose it upon you, and yet, I used it as my little way of exacting a bit of petty revenge. Please forgive me."

"It's… all right. I just can't begin to believe what I'm hearing."

"I realize it may be a bit much to handle, but I thought it was important for you to know. I think there's a very good chance that what I've just told you will provide the final piece of the puzzle for you."

"It just might… but…" Robin shook his head derisively. "I'm sorry, I can hardly think straight. I'm not even sure what to do now. Where can I go from here?"

"I've taken you on a journey back to your past—back to the very beginning, so now, go forward from there," said Renault LeBlanc. "You've figured out quite a bit, Robin. I think you can see the road this case is heading down from where you're standing, you just have to keep walking it."

Robin nodded. "I think I get what you're saying. And you really think I'll figure out the truth that way?"

"Only the genuine truth can come from such an investigation. Starting from bedrock like that, there's no way you won't uncover what's underlying this whole mess. By seeing the world with fresh eyes, I think you'll learn more about it."

"'With fresh eyes?' No, it's not so much like that… I think I'm just about to see the world for what it really is. They way you've been able to see it all along, and I was just too ignorant to see."

"Not by your own will, Robin. You've been lied to. Even by me. That's going to keep happening all your life. People will rarely share the truth with you, which is why you've got to find it yourself."

"I suppose that makes sense. Is that why you ended up studying law? And how you met Fado? Was it really all predicated on that incident in the castle?"

"It was. I guess that's what I was looking for in my studies: some way to escape from the consequences of my actions. A way to make the world learn what I already knew. But I learned fairly quickly that the law is like a key, or a pencil… it's only a tool that you can use to lead people to find the things you want them to find. In the wrong hands… apathetic, or, worse, willfully ignorant hands… such a tool is useless. I grew apathetic in my time, too. Afraid. Tired. Content, even, in a way. That's why, when you first came to me, I chose to deceive you. I assumed it was impossible, and not worth the effort. It's another mistake I'll have to atone for. I hope I'll earn your forgiveness someday."

Robin stood up, motioning for Morgan to follow him. "If and when this case ends, and I find out who ordered Fado's murder… then you can count yourself forgiven," he told Renault.

Renault gave him a wry smile. "Ah. Now that's a gamble I'm happy to take."

Morgan and Robin walked back toward the door outside. As they stepped out, Morgan realized the purpose with which her employer was moving and asked, "Where are we going now?"

"To see an old friend," Robin said, not looking at her.

[November 9th, 1:48 pm, Ereb Residential District]

Robin grimaced when he looked at the shabby two-story house. The façade was grimy: an old railing decayed and rusted on the front lawn, its paint chipping off. The sidewalk and path leading to the door had crumbled and broken. The wood of the door was splintered and marked with long scratches. The brass doorknob was barely holding onto the frame. It, too, was scuffed and filthy. It almost made Robin regret touching it with his bare hands. He intended to knock first, but the decrepit doorknob sank in its socket and made the force of Robin's knock simply fling the door open partway. He concluded he didn't have time for courtesy, and stepped inside.

The inside wasn't any better than what had been outside. Books littered the floor, along with spatters of multiple different colors of liquids, and numerous burn marks. The furniture was well worn and sagging, and the air filled with all manner of noxious vapors and ethers—above all, a strong scent of alcohol and smoke clung to every surface in the place.

But none of that mattered, because the worst part of the whole scene was just about to step into Robin's view. Garbed in loose, holey pants and a frayed old shirt, white hair in a disjointed heap on his head, Henry Laffer stood less than a foot away from his old classmate. "Well, I'll be damned!" he shouted, "Is that you, Robin?!"

"Henry," Robin acknowledged him.

"Haha! It is! Well, c'mon! Siddown! It's been ages since we last saw each other! You nearly gave me a heart attack sneaking in like that, haha!"

"We won't be staying long," Robin said.

"What? Aw, don't be like that! We're old chums, aren't we?"

"No, we're not." Robin's voice hadn't changed at all.

"Really?" Henry laughed to himself. "I don't get it, what's your deal? I still thought we were pretty good friends, especially after what you did for me, nya ha! If you aren't here to catch up, what're you even doing here?"

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," Robin said. He folded his arms. "That… 'favor' I did you."

"Oh, you want one in return, is that it? Well, I can't do much, but I can give you something that'll make a person think they're a pig for a few hours. That'd be pretty fun, right? Nya ha ha!"

"I want to talk about the fall I took for you, Henry," Robin said, "I want to talk about the death of Linde Miloah."

"I'm sure you do." Henry shrugged. "In case you haven't noticed, though, that's old news. No one cares anymore, Robin. The statute of limitations has run, and your verdict has been decided. It's too late for take-backsies, haha!"

"I don't care about any of that. I just want to know one simple thing, Henry: why?"

Henry cocked an eyebrow at his former classmate. "Why? Why did I kill her, you mean? What does that matter at this point?"

"You chose someone to take the fall for you. There were a lot of us at that school. A lot of us walked by that path. And yet, for some reason, you chose me. Why did you do that?"

Henry laughed aloud, shrugging all the while. "Why does anyone do anything, Robin? Sometimes, things just play out badly, and terrible things happen to people! For no reason at all! Pretty funny to think about, isn't it?"

"I'm not laughing."

"Yeah, you sure aren't. Tsk, you used to be a lot more fun back in the day."

"I also used to have no murder convictions to my name."

"Good point, nya ha!"

"Why did you kill Linde, Henry? And why did you blame it on me? I have to know these things. I won't leave without an answer."

"You know, Robin, if you took a good look at me and what I do, it might occur to you that I'm not exactly the picture of pure rationality. Or sanity. Or any standard of reasonable or moral behavior whatsoever. We were stupid kids. We wanted to stick it to the system, you know? And it really didn't matter who 'the system' was, we just wanted to shake things up! Have some excitement! Life gets so dull…"

"But you had a whole legal team. Fado told me… there was an entire firm covering your tracks. That, plus my confession, killed any chance he had of finding any evidence against you. Where did that team come from? You don't have the means to pay for your own counsel now, let alone then."

"Are you calling me poor? 'Cause you're right, nya ha ha! But I don't have any good answers for you. There was a guy who wanted me to kill that lady, and he wanted me to blame it on you, so I did it! It was a lot of fun!"

"Someone… told you to do it?"

"Yep, yep, yep! He told me the place, and the time, and everything: 'stand on this rooftop at this time and push her off to the left…' It was a great plan, all told."

"Why did you never mention this before?!"

"So you'd still take the fall for me, duh. If the police didn't get a confession from you, then there would've still been a chance that I'd be discovered, and I couldn't have that! Better to think you were doing a favor for a friend than some mysterious guy you've never met!"

"And you just… did what this person said? Just because you could?"

"Pretty much! Nya ha ha!"

"You don't happen to remember this person's name, do you?"

"Pffft! You think he'd have told me?! Hahaha! 'Say kid, go murder that lady! By the way, here's my driver's license for when the cops arrest you!' Ahahaha!"

"Was there anything distinctive about that person? A scar? Or his hair? His clothes, maybe?"

"Why are you so concerned about all this now? Oh, wait! I get it! Revenge plan, right! Ooh, you gonna stab him while he's asleep or something?! That'd be really good!"

"Nothing like that. I want to have a talk with him."

"Hehe… that sounds boring, but the way you say it makes it seem kind of exciting. Here." Henry walked into another room, and, in a moment, produced a pencil and paper, and sat down at a nearby table to start sketching. He drew a cylinder with a crooked top a bit like a teapot's on the paper and handed it to Robin. "He wore a symbol like that on his sleeves. I think anarchist groups used to use it after Morgana Grimme died."

Robin took the paper. He looked over at Henry, who was grinning at him. "That'll do. Thanks for your time, Henry." The attorney made for the door.

"Aw, you really don't wanna stick around? You don't even wanna give me a shot to the face for ruining your life, or anything?! Nya ha ha!"

"I want to get back to my life," Robin said, not looking back, "And I want you to do the same. This is goodbye, Henry."

"Sure, whatever," he chuckled. The door slammed shut. The brass knob fell out and split on either side of the door. Henry stared at it as the room around him began to grow darker.

Robin sat down in his car and put his hands on the steering wheel.

"Are you okay, Boss?" Morgan asked him.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said, "I got what I came for."

"You made a mistake," Morgan said, "but you're making up for it now. That's what matters. We all have a chance to do the right thing."

"That's right," Robin agreed, "we do. We've done quite a bit of investigating already today, haven't we?"

"It feels like a whole day, even though it's only been a few hours."

"What do you say we stop off at the hotel with some lunch before we get back to work?"

"Sounds good to me. I'm starving!"

"All right, look up someplace local on my phone. And once you're done with that, call Tharja's number."

"Tharja?" Morgan looked up at her employer. "The black-haired lady that investigated with us the first day?"

"Yep. That's her. Give her a call, I need to ask her about something Henry told me."

[November 9th, 3:06 pm, Roncontra Hotel]

Robin kicked the door open, carrying several plastic bags in his hands. Anna stood up when she heard the commotion and watched Morgan barrel in with Robin behind her. The attorney stumbled to the table in the front area of their hotel room and dropped the bags onto the table. They were labeled "The Curry-er." Morgan excitedly dug through one of them as Robin sighed with relief.

It was only at that moment that Anna noticed another figure meekly walking up behind them. She recognized her from earlier in the week as one of Robin's friends.

"I brought lunch, like you said," Robin announced, gesturing to the pile of plastic bags.

"I see that. A little late, but I'll take it," Anna told him.

"By the way, I brought Tharja with us," Robin said, presenting their raven-haired guest. "I need her help figuring some things out. You remember her from the other day, right?"

"Mm-hm. How are you, Tharja?"

"Oh, I'm fine," she said, crouching behind Robin's shoulder, "just, you know… er, fine."

Robin dug into one of the bags and pulled out a plastic bowl, handing it to Anna. Chunks of chicken sat in the bowl, surrounded by carrots and slices of bell pepper, and all swimming in a yellow sauce. "That's for you," Robin said, "I know you like things a little spicy, so I made sure they made it nice and hot."

The group dug in and ate their meals, and Robin gradually explained what he and Morgan had done that day, carefully skipping over the biggest revelation Renault had told him, and then finishing by describing the trip to Henry's.

When he finished talking about his latest visit, Robin pulled out the drawing Henry had given him, and presented it to Tharja. "Here," he said, "this is the symbol he said the man was wearing when he made the request. Does it look familiar?"

Tharja swallowed a forkful of rice as she looked it over. "Mm. Yeah, I've seen it before. Some of my old friends used to have necklaces and stuff in this shape. Small stuff, though. Stuff that's easy to hide. Because, technically, it's illegal to wear it. And, er… when I say 'old friends,' I mean the ones who were with that guy who… uh… Ahem. I mean… I mean 'people who aren't my friends anymore.'"

"Really? Illegal to wear in public? So he wasn't lying?" Robin wondered. "Did Plegian anarchists use this symbol?"

"Anarchists, yeah, and all sorts of revolutionaries, too. Anyone who wasn't a fan of the Reformation government. The symbol is supposed to look like a crumbling tower, see?"

Robin stared blankly at the paper. "I don't know if Henry's art skills are sufficient to convey that impression."

"Still," said Tharja, "I'd know the symbol anywhere, I've seen it plenty of times."

"Well, that's good." Robin dropped his fork into his empty bowl and leaned back in his seat. "For once, Henry gave me something useful. We're still a long ways away from answering the ultimate question here, but this is progress."

"Sweet, sweet progress," Morgan echoed, licking the bottom of her bowl.

"What's next, then?" Anna asked, "Surely you don't think this guy was the one who hired Valter?"

"Probably not, no, but it doesn't really matter," Robin answered, "he can still lead us to him. I'm sure there are other people who know this symbol, since Tharja's verified its authenticity."

"Like who?"

"She mentioned her former friends… I'm wondering if there isn't someone from an earlier case who could tell us a little bit more about this 'anarchist' group."

Tharja shuddered. "Ew, that guy? Um, I think I'll pass, if that's where you're headed."

"That's fine, I didn't really expect you to tag along for the whole investigation," said Robin, "I just needed your help confirming those details. Oh, and one other thing, if you don't mind."

"Not at all. What is it?"

"Something's still bothering me about that card that Fado was holding onto when we investigated the scene."

"Oh, you mean the Emperor card?"

"That's right. You said there was something different about it, didn't you?"

"Yeah… the orb in the emperor's hand wasn't quite right."

"I'd like for you to look into that, if you could. See if you can find out where that design comes from. I think it'd help a lot."

"Sure thing. That'll be easy! …I think."

"Great. Thanks. Everything going okay with you, Anna?"

"I've seen the same episode of the same soap opera playing three times on this channel," Anna said, pointing to the TV at the other end of the room, "so I feel like I'm going a little stir-crazy, but I'm doing all right."

"Would you like Tharja to stick around, give you some company?"

"I don't think so," Anna said flatly. Tharja was also shaking her head.

"Then I'll give you something to do. Can you hand me that folder labeled 'OPH?'" Robin pointed to a collection of files and folders that was covering a nearby nightstand.

Anna cocked an eyebrow, then walked over to the nightstand. She scanned the papers for the initials, and, on finding the appropriate folder, brought it back, handing it over to Robin.

"Thanks," Robin said as he took it. He opened the file and pulled out a certain paper. He placed it on the table face-down and slid it over to Anna. "Do me a favor, do some digging on the names on that list. I think there might be a pattern emerging. I'll call you a little later."

Anna stared at the paper quizzically. "All right, I guess. Better than hearing how that one lady on this show survived her death for the fourth time."

"All right. Morgan and I should probably get back to it. Call us right away if you need anything, though."

"Of course. Search hard, you two! Tomorrow's going to be a trial for the ages."

Don't remind me. "We'll do what we can." Robin stood up, and Morgan mirrored him. "Come on, we're going back down to the detention center."

[November 9th, 4:29 pm, Ereb Detention Center]

Robin summoned his breath before sitting down. Morgan tried to peek around him to see who was waiting in the cell before them. She stopped when she realized Robin was giving her a sideways look. When Robin was ready, they both sat down. Behind the bars, Morgan didn't recognize the fair-faced young man with the lavender hair. He had a gentle air about him—a certain naivete, one might say, but he was clearly unhappy. Anyone would be, given the circumstances, Morgan supposed. When the young man met eyes with Robin, his brow creased, and his looks became distinctly less gentle.

"You…?" he muttered.

"So, you still remember me," said Robin. "I guess it hasn't been that long, has it, Lyon Mulroy?"

"Not nearly long enough," Lyon replied.

Morgan tugged on her employer's sleeve. When he looked down, her eyes begged him for an explanation. He held out his index finger and turned back to Lyon.

"I'm surprised to see you in Plegia," Lyon said, "why would you come here? The place is falling apart at the seams."

"That's exactly why I'm here," answered Robin. "I need some information, and I think you're the best source I know of for it."

"What? I haven't been outside these walls since my conviction. I'm just awaiting transfer to a larger institution. There's nothing I could tell you about the outside world right now that you don't already know."

"I don't want to talk about right now. I want to talk about the past. How does someone like you end up becoming an assassin?"

"S-Someone like me? What are you getting at?"

"Lyon… you weren't always like this, were you?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I spoke with Naesala Scaltro not too long ago."

"N-Naesala…?"

"He knew about you, Lyon. He called you 'soft' and said that you had always had a lot to prove. What's a person to deduce from that?"

"He said that…? W-Well, what the hell does he know? More importantly, what does this have to do with anything?"

Robin shook his head slowly. "Let me start over with a different question: Lyon, why did you kill Harken Gaetz?"

"Are you having memory problems or something? You just mentioned about me being an assassin. That's why."

"But that isn't why you killed him. It's not a reason to want to kill him. What motivated you to become an assassin in the first place?"

"What does that matter? I'm already in here, aren't I? What good does it do to explain all that?"

Robin took Henry's sketch out of his pocket and dropped it onto the table before him, its corners bumping against the plexiglass. "Does this look familiar? Did someone with a tattoo like this approach you?"

Lyon shifted in his chair. "What… how did you… n-no! That's not… I mean… just… why the hell do you care so much?"

"I used to be like you, Lyon," Robin said softly, lifting his head back up so that his eyes were perfectly level with Lyon's. "I felt alone. Shunned. Unwanted. I resented the world around me for putting me where I was. I was resolved to do something about it, and I surrounded myself with people who I thought were of like mind. Then those people started doing things that I thought were too extreme—they weren't what I wanted for that world. But by that point, it was too late. When I didn't want to go along with them, they all cast me aside, too. If it weren't for someone new coming into my life, I might've gone over the edge and done something crazy myself."

"He said the same thing to me," Morgan piped up. "I was gonna throw myself in jail to spare my friends, but Mr. LeBlanc made me realize that that wouldn't have done any good. Trying to cover things up, or hide things, or bury the truth of the matter… it might seem like the right thing to do in the moment, but it only leads to greater problems later on. Eventually, you come to realize that things would've been better if you'd just fessed up at the start and stayed true to yourself."

"True to… myself…" Lyon thought that remark over, fingers idly playing upon his face.

"Major changes are coming for Plegia. Ylisse too. I want those changes to be in the right direction. Would you be willing to help me with that?" Robin asked, offering his hand.

"You… you're right," Lyon mumbled. "I never wanted to kill anybody, you know? My hands… my hands never stopped shaking… the whole time."

"I can imagine… you spilled all that poison."

"That night… I went home and… I vomited into my toilet the entire evening. I just kept shaking. I felt so cold."

"So then, why?"

"It's like you said… I hate what Plegia's become. King Validar doesn't care about his subjects at all, least of all people like me. The justice system's in shambles—political prisoners get fast-tracked toward execution. People like me get rounded up on the streets and beaten for stealing or even just loitering. This place… most of the time, it feels like sheer hell. I wanted to do something about that, because, despite everything, there are people and things here that I love. I wanted to make it better. I started looking for groups that thought like me, and… before I knew it, people were shoving knives, guns, and poison into my hands."

"Weapons, huh? I guess Harken wasn't the first one you killed."

"No. There were others. But they were… different, somehow. They were people who'd done awful things, like falsely accusing others and abusing their children… but Harken… he was the first one who… when I thought about it, he hadn't done anything wrong."

"I see. So that's what prompted your hesitation. And what led you to get caught."

"Yeah… and now I'll be paying for it for the rest of my life. That's only what I deserve."

"At least you have the presence of mind to acknowledge that you were wrong."

"I only wish I could've made a bigger impact… a real impact. Not starting fires, but actually doing something, you know?"

"You could start doing something today. You could give me your employer's name."

"I can't do that," Lyon said, looking down. "And I really mean I can't, not that I won't. He never gave me his name. The best I could tell you is that he looks sort of pale, and… jagged, I guess? He has a face that looks like it was hewn of metal."

"That's a… colorful description, I suppose."

"I'm sorry. I realize it's not much help."

"Where did you first meet with this person?"

"In a temple. Owned and operated by my father."

"Really?"

"I'm not one of the Faithful, if you're wondering. I was born into that life, but I drifted away from it. Gods never really helped me no matter how much I asked."

"Do you think I could have the address of this temple?"

"Why would you want that? You're not going after my father, are you? We weren't always on the best terms, but I wouldn't wish harm upon him."

"No, nothing like that. I want to investigate that person you met more. Unless your father witnessed him there, I don't think we need to even speak to him."

"He didn't, so… just… promise to leave my father out of this, all right?"

"You have my word." Robin put his hand up in solemnity. Morgan copied him.

Lyon told Robin the address. Robin wrote it down on Henry's sketch, and then replaced the paper in his pocket.

"I hope you find something useful," Lyon said. "I hope you can change things, like you said. The world right now isn't good enough. It ought to be better. It needs something earthshattering to fix it."

"I'm going to do everything I can," Robin said. "Thank you for your help, Lyon. Anything I achieve, you'll have had a part in it."

Robin and Morgan got up and bid Lyon goodbye.

"In some way… that really does make me feel… different. Perhaps not better, but there is a feeling about it… something light. Airy. Freeing."

As Robin and Morgan returned to Robin's car, Robin whipped out his phone and dropped a paper into Morgan's lap. The paper was nothing but a long itemized list, in descending alphabetical order, of names, phone numbers, addresses, and amounts in Ylissean dollars. According to the header, it spanned thirteen pages.

"What's this?" Morgan asked, staring at the page.

"It's a part of my theory," Robin answered with the phone up to his ear, "I want you to go down that list and see if any of the addresses noted there line up with the address Lyon just gave us."

"Oh… all right." Morgan stared intently at the paper.

On the other end of Robin's phone call, he heard Heather's voice come through: "What's up?"

"I have something I need to go over with you. Can we meet in the same place as earlier?"

"Sure."

"And bring your friend, if you could. I think he'll want to hear about this."

"Really? All right. He'll be there."

That was all he needed. Robin hung up his phone and concentrated on the road as he turned out of the parking lot. The vision in his head was becoming clearer, and it didn't look good.

[November 9th, 5:48 pm, Pablo Plaza]

Heather was seated at a picnic bench that was half-doused in shadow. Across from her was a figure Robin quickly recognized as Matthew. He seemed to be listening to Heather describe something, but not with great interest. Their heads turned as soon as Robin and Morgan approached.

"So, I hear you've got something," Heather said, "I hope it's worthwhile."

"I hope so, too, because it's more than 'something,'" said Robin. He closed his eyes and then reopened them sharply, staring down at Heather. "It's everything."

"Let's not beat around the bush then, eh?" said Matthew, almost too cheerily, "We don't have a lot of daylight left, and you're going to need to rest up in preparation for the trial tomorrow. Things are about to get pretty exciting around here…"

"The man has a point," Heather agreed, "show us what you've got."

With a nod from Robin, Morgan came forward and placed the list on the picnic table. She flipped through the pages and pointed out four names she'd circled in black pen. Heather realized what she was getting at after the third.

"I see… all those names associated with that temple… but what's the connection to the temple?"

"Moreover, what is this list I'm looking at?" Matthew added.

Heather answered him: "This is a list of all the known targets of Oliver Pope, the former CEO of Heron Corp."

"The one who killed that girl? And was involved with all that blackmail business?"

Heather frowned. "Just so."

"So… these are his targets, hm? The ones who paid him?"

"That's right, through his insurance front. There are people from all walks of life in here, but Oliver targeted as many wealthy louts as he could. He kept their extralegal indulgences quiet for a hefty fee. Robin seems to find it interesting that four of them are connected to this temple, however."

"I see. So then, what's the big to-do about this temple?"

"I just spoke with Lyon Mulroy," Robin said. "He told me about how he was first approached for his assassination job by someone bearing an anti-Reformation symbol in that temple. That story is the same for two other Plegians I've dealt with: Tharja Anderra and Henry Laffer. Much earlier, I also had a conversation with Naesala Scaltro where he tacitly admitted to being familiar with Lyon. There's too much overlap here for this to be a simple coincidence."

"Naesala… Scaltro, you say?" Matthew's expression darkened.

"Yes. He was… involved in an old case of mine."

"What a coincidence. Mine, too."

"Robin, there's no need to be shy about it," Heather told him, "Matthew… well, he knew Leila…"

"Leila… the victim," Robin muttered. The words weren't directed at anyone, they simply spilled out of his lips.

Matthew's face was stony now. "Yeah. That cold-blooded bastard iced her. And it wasn't for no reason, either. We were trying to discreetly release information from a recent investigation, and somebody wanted it kept quiet. The only thing I couldn't tell you is why."

"I think I might have that part of it."

"Huh? You think you know the details?"

"I think I have a pretty good idea. After all, I was the defense attorney in that case. I'm closer to it than anyone."

Matthew's eyes widened. "You were the defense? Naga-fucking-damn. Small world."

"I'm sorry that I couldn't get justice for Leila," Robin told him, "I was inexperienced, and I let my arrogance get the better of me."

"It's not your fault," said Matthew, looking away, "that prick didn't play by the rules. Pulled a damn gun in a courtroom! What lousy-ass security let him get away with…! Argh!"

"Easy," Heather shushed him, grabbing his hand.

"Despite my previous failure, can I still ask for your hand in solving this case, Matthew?" Robin asked. "I may need you to… to testify. And I realize that might not be easy."

Matthew folded his arms. "You want me to testify, eh? Get up and tell the whole world my name and what I do? You know that's suicide for someone in my position, right?"

"I understand. You don't have to, if you're unsure. I'll go about it another way."

"Hold on. I asked you a question. I asked if you knew exactly what you were asking of me right now. Do you?"

"O-Of course. I wouldn't have asked if I didn't think it was that important."

"And you're sure about your theory?"

"More sure than I've been about anything before in my life."

"All right, then." Matthew nodded. "To hell with it. You get us that far along in the trial, and I'll testify about whatever you want."

"You sure about that?" Heather eyed him skeptically.

"I don't care about any part of this whole stupid job more than I care about getting whoever's responsible for putting Leila down. I think you know how that feels."

Heather didn't react. "I guess that settles it."

"So, with that out of the way," Matthew turned around to face Robin again, "What is this theory of yours? Do you really think you know who's responsible for all this? The assassinations, the political shakeups, the general mayhem? Leila Viscount, Pelleas Apoleus, Harken Gaetz, Nephenee Monell, and Fado Verlaine… who in the world could be the common factor between all of them?"

Robin inhaled. "The only way to find out is to take what we know for sure and eliminate whatever can't be true. The only thing remaining will be the one thing that is true… that's deductive reasoning at its heart. We now know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Valter Mani was the true murderer in this case—he undertook the action that directly led to Fado's demise. We also know that Fado was hired by someone with a lot of sway in the Plegian government to commit this murder—he didn't act alone. He had a plan that was specifically carried out along with an accomplice. The only thing we still need to determine is who hired Valter.

"In order to determine that, I focused my investigation on other assassins I've dealt with during my previous cases, since they seemed to repeatedly show up. I'd hoped a pattern would emerge, and, eventually, one did: Lyon Mulory, Henry Laffer, and Tharja Anderra, all disaffected Plegian youths, each reported encountering a stranger wearing a tower-like symbol that's associated with groups who are opposed to Plegia's current government. Tharja never got seriously involved with that individual, but Lyon and Henry were both incensed to commit murder after their encounter. By his own admission, Naesala Scaltro knew Lyon, but it's unclear if he was recruited by the same method.

"Further, the list Heather provided me with makes it clear that some of the people involved with this method of recruitment were involved in schemes outside of Plegia—money was changing hands in Ylisse, too. That means whatever this operation is, it's massive. Political and business figures in both countries have been targets of assassinations and deliberate takedowns."

Heather interjected, "You mean you think Oliver was involved in this, too?"

Robin nodded. "I'm sure of it. Do you remember back in the trial, the strangeness with Eliwood and Hector's phone records?"

"Oh yeah… that never did get resolved."

"I kept thinking about it… who would've messed around with those records like that? It was almost like someone wanted to draw attention to those times so they could be used against Oliver. Then it hit me: what if someone was above Oliver and decided they no longer wanted him?"

"Have the law dispose of him…? Robin, this is—"

"Crazy, I know, but at this point, it's the only thing that makes sense. If you look at that list, you'll see that for the entries with that temple as an address, money isn't coming out, but going in. Ostensibly, Oliver was making charitable donations to the temple."

"Donations? I see… so someone had a hold on him, too."

"That's what I figured. Then, you have the fact of Leila's assassination, and the report she was trying to deliver. I think you and Matthew both know exactly how earthshattering the contents of that report are."

"No kidding," said Matthew, "There's quite a story in those pages. Which is exactly why someone might want to keep that mess quiet."

Robin nodded. "Exactly. And who would want to stifle a report of that nature but the Plegian government itself? The problem with that is that the government as a collective can't be responsible for everything that's happened here, because the assassins I mentioned earlier were all opposed to the current establishment. That begs the question, who would serve the interests of the Reformation government by hiding Leila's report, but counteract it by hiring assassins to weave a web of political and economic subterfuge?"

Matthew snapped his fingers. "I think I get it. If someone's got that much power over the political and economic spheres of Plegia, then, if they were to let that report slip at just the right moment…"

"They could plunge the country into anarchy and snatch up power in a coup," Heather finished.

Robin nodded again. "My thoughts exactly. So, the only question remaining is, who could be so powerful as to hold that much influence? I learned a little tidbit from Renault that I think will be the final nail in that person's coffin. It's all become perfectly clear to me now what they've been planning all along. Before that happens, come what may, I'm going to call them to testify in court tomorrow… and expose them before their plan can come to fruition."

Matthew raised his eyebrows. "…And? Who is that? Who are you going to expose, exactly?"

"It's a little out there," Robin said, "so I think it's for the best if I don't actually name names until the trial. When that time comes, I'll need your help, and you'll have heard everything, all right?"

Matthew shrugged and gave the attorney a smirk. "Fine. You sound like you know what you're saying enough for me to believe you. I'm in. Just don't disappoint me."

Heather agreed: "Same here. We're counting on you to get this right."

"There are more people than just you two counting on me," Robin said. "I swear, I'll bring the person behind all this to justice. It's time to pierce the dark veil that's been covering Plegia and finally bring the truth to light!"

[Turnabout in the Tower ~ Investigation Day 3 – End]