Turnabout Tactics: Mens Rea

by The Erudite

Robin LeBlanc is an upstart attorney, granted a firm all his own by his vanished mentor. Well... "firm" might be overstating it, since it's just the building and one secretary. When Robin gets a call from an old friend one evening, his world and the legal world in Ylisse begin to change forever. AU. Rated T for some violence/blood and mild language.

22. Turnabout in the Tower: Trial Day 3

[November 9th, 8:42 am, Ereb District Court – Defendant Lobby]

Robin dug one hand into his pocket. He reached his other arm around Morgan and guided her through the crowd. The flashes of photographs being taken made him squint. A pair of court officials in stark black uniforms appeared to move the members of the press out of the way. Chatter rang out all along the street, and red-and-blue police lights reflected off of every surface in the lobby. Robin was blind and deaf to all of it, however. He concentrated on the sensation of his hand tightening in his pocket, as well as the one holding Morgan's shoulder. Anna walked closely behind him. Occasionally, he could feel her breath on his neck, and the scent of her perfume never quite left him.

At last, they managed to sit down. Still, the entire group remained silent, afraid to try and bring order to the chaotic energy of the air around them. Anna thought of something simple: "We're in for a long one today, no doubt."

"Not to mention difficult. And heavily scrutinized," Robin sighed, "Oh, the halcyon days when I was just taking simple murder cases for a friend."

"As if anything that's happened over the last few months has been simple," Anna replied.

"Got me there."

"So, do you really think you know who's responsible, Boss?" Morgan asked. "I listened to you talk to Heather and Matthew yesterday, but you said you didn't want to put a name out there. Are you ready to indict someone today?"

"I don't have much choice. I only have one operating theory at this point, and if I don't manage to prove it, I'm going to be up a creek. As long as the SCC remains in place, I have to find out who's really at the heart of Fado's murder if I ever want him to get the justice he deserves."

"Speaking of, I wonder how Ephraim's doing?" Anna added. "I haven't heard anything from Eirika since the other day."

"She might be staying quiet until this affair resolves itself. That'd be the smart move," said Robin, "I almost wish I could do the same."

"Hey now." Anna wagged her finger at him. "There's no room for fear now. You brought yourself this far forward, now it's time to bring it to an end. And not just for your sake, but for everyone you're helping, too."

Robin nodded slowly. "Right. No two ways about it, the trial has to end today. Whatever the result, that's what I'm going to carry with me forever."

Morgan stuck out her tongue. "'Whatever result,'" she repeated mockingly. "You're gonna do fine, Boss. If there's anyone I would believe could figure this mess out, it's you. Plus, you've got me and Anna with you, so how could you fail? We'll just put our heads together."

"You are pretty bright," he agreed, "I just hope I don't have to rely on you too much."

Anna stared straight into his eyes. "You've got this. Ready?"

"Ready."

The trio stood up and marched toward the courtroom doors. The bailiff opened them, and everyone proceeded inside. The cold air of the court and the heated air of the lobby swirled together as a throng of bodies piled into the court for the end of the trial.

[November 9th, 9:04 am, Ereb District Court – Courtroom No. 8]

Robin, Morgan, and Anna swam through the river of people entering the courtroom and found their place at the defense bench. As Robin stood and waited for the judge to call the court to order, he quickly noticed that the prosecutor's bench was empty. He hadn't thought about it much before the trial, because his mind had been entirely wrapped up in other pursuits, but he now realized that Ephraim's departure meant that the lead prosecutor on this case was no longer available. Did Ephraim have a replacement in mind? Would someone else from his team stand opposite him? If not, what would be the fate of this trial? A failure of the prosecution to appear would likely result in a default judgment for the defense, but if that were to be the case, Robin wouldn't have the opportunity to present his final theory to the court.

Anna caught him scrutinizing the bench and directed her stare that way, too. She understood quickly what Robin was thinking, but was unable to say anything before the judge called the court to order.

"Silence, please," the judge requested. "I am aware of the status and import of today's trial. Major developments over the course of this trial have made it a significant matter of public concern, not just for Plegia or Ylisse, but for the entire legal world. I understand that there are many eyes studying the movements of our humble little courtroom closely today, and I understand that whatever verdict we render at the conclusion of today's proceedings, a message will be sent to that watchful world that may go on to guide the fates of both Plegia and Ylisse. I hope my saying as much has not intimidated any of the counsel present today from resolving the issue before us, as a fair, firm, unflinching resolution must be achieved today."

Certainly not, Your Honor. Why would telling somebody that whatever comes out of his mouth might destroy two whole countries ever cause him to second-guess himself?

"I also note that there is an element absent from our current proceedings, likely as a result of the events of the previous trial. As I'm sure everyone present is aware, it is impossible to conduct a trial without both sides of the issue at argument fairly represented. At this point, there appears to be no prosecutor present, which would make the further conduction of this trial impossible. I was informed previously of a change in the prosecution's representation, but there does not appear to be any such substitute currently in the courtroom."

So there was a substitution. Ephraim really thought of everything, didn't he? But where's his substitute? Who could he have picked that wouldn't have showed up on time?

"Just a moment, Your Honor," called a voice from the back of the courtroom, "I have every intention of standing as prosecutor, as soon as I'm permitted entry."

The judge looked to the back of the court and saw the bailiff struggling to manage a mob that was still flocking around the doors. A guard on the other side of the door was attempting, quite futilely, to pull the doors shut as more and more people shoved their way in. "Who said that?" the judge called back. "Bailiff, allow that man forward. Show the bailiff your prosecutor's badge, sir."

Presumably, the man did so, as in a few moments, he strode easily out of the crowd and toward the center of the court. When he settled into his position at the prosecutor's bench, Robin couldn't believe his eyes.

"Prosecutor Lloyd Reed is prepared to stand trial, Your Honor," said the prosecutor. He looked over to Robin and smiled.

"P-P-Prosecutor Reed?!" Robin stammered.

"Surprised?" He folded his arms. "Prosecutor Verlaine and I know each other fairly well, actually. Once he learned that you were his opposing counsel, he knew I'd be eager to sink my teeth into this case."

Robin glared at his opponent. "Is that what this is about? Some kind of vendetta? Because if you've come into this court just to exact some kind of revenge on me, I'll tell you right now, you picked the wrong case."

Lloyd Reed shook his head, still smiling. "While I recognize that our prior relationship has been… rocky, to put it mildly, my presence today is more of a gift to you than anything. I came here because you and I have the same goal in mind: uncovering the truth of this situation."

"You say that, but… you disappeared after your last loss. Are you sure this has nothing to do with you wanting to even the score?"

"A short while ago, it might have. But, as much as it pains me to admit it, you made me realize something, LeBlanc. When I first took my place in the courtroom, it was to follow in my father's footsteps. I was taught from an early age that it is a prosecutor's duty to stand in the court and condemn all those who come before him, and that the attorney's only role was to endeavor to help those miscreants slip from the grasp of justice. When I went over my cases against you, though… hours upon hours of cold, logical thought cut through me as sharply as the blade wielded by Lady Justice herself."

Robin blinked. "I'm… not sure I follow."

Lloyd rolled his eyes. "My point is this: for a time, I thought myself the only extension of justice in the court, and all my opponents were simple obstacles in the path to obtaining that justice. What I've come to realize is that the road we walk through argument in court is that path. A duel of wits to sharpen the cleaving sword of truth, not a simple bout of good and evil."

"I think I understand. So, you're not going to stand in my way?"

"I didn't say that. There has to be a debate in a courtroom, or there's no trial at all. What I'm saying is that I'll hear your conclusions, but I won't just sit and listen. Prove to me and this whole court that you've taken the pains necessary to find the truth at the heart of this trial, and then maybe you'll find the result you desire."

"That's fine. I've got everything I need."

"That's what I like to hear."

The judge cleared his throat. "Well, I'm unaware of the history between you two, but, from the sound of it, it would seem that both counsels are prepared to begin the trial. Do I have the right of it?"

"Yes, Your Honor," the attorneys answered simultaneously.

"Very good. The trial of Renault Desombres will now reconvene. When we left off, Prosecutor Verlaine relayed some startling news to this court: the man we now know as Valter Mani was employed by a certain person to assassinate the victim, Fado Verlaine. He did so by waiting in a certain room in a cantina until Fado Verlaine entered, along with the defendant, and then shot the victim, and framed the defendant for the killing. Were the trial to be ended at this point, there is little doubt in my mind that the jury would render a verdict against Renault Desombres. However, with that said, the Ylissean Substitute Culpability Clause requires a defense attorney to indict another party in order to complete a plea of Not Guilty to murder in the first degree. It is also the burden of that attorney to persuade the jury that it is more likely than not that the indicted individual was the one truly responsible for the crime. That being the case, Mr. LeBlanc, it is both your prerogative and obligation to name the individual responsible for Fado Verlaine's murder: will you have Valter Mani arraigned, or can you name his employer, to whom his culpability would extend?"

"Your Honor," said Robin, lifting his head, "the defense has a name it would like to posit for Valter Mani's employer."

"I had hoped so," said Lloyd. "Now, give us your best shot!"

"Who will you name, Mr. LeBlanc?"

"Your Honor, the defense believes that the party guilty of the murder of Fado Verlaine… is none other than Gangrel Weissman!"

"WH-WHAT DID YOU SAY?!" the judge started. Similar clamor spread through the court, as well as the feverish rocking of heads from side to side, trying to determine if they had heard the attorney correctly.

Lloyd Reed folded his arms again and muttered, "Good, good."

Morgan turned to Anna. "I don't get it. Who's Gangrel Weissman, and why's everybody so upset about it?"

"Gangrel Weissman was the heir to the Plegian throne, back when it was still a monarchy, years before you were born," Anna answered. "Robin just told this whole Plegian courtroom that the prince of their last king planned to have a Ylissean political figure assassinated. That'd be big news. Even a cause for war."

"I hope you understand the implications of what you're claiming, Mr. LeBlanc!" said the judge. He meant to sound intimidating, but the waver in his eyes and voice destroyed that illusion.

"I do. I wouldn't make such an accusation if I didn't have substantial evidence to prove it."

"You'd better," said Lloyd, "because as amusing as your indictment is, Mr. Weissman is a very important man. I'm not about to just drag him into the court on a whim. You'll need to prove to me and this court that it's worth our time to even undertake such an exercise."

"That won't be a problem." Robin bowed. "I'll need to bring a witness forward to explain the situation to the court, however."

"By all means," said Lloyd.

"Your Honor, the defense would like to call the defendant, Renault Desombres, to testify," said Robin.

"No objections," Lloyd added quickly.

"Very well. Bailiff?"

At the judge's command, Renault Desombres was brought to the front of the courtroom with the bailiff's help. As he stood at the witness stand, his posture and disposition were easy. A slim smile stretched across his face.

"Mr. Desombres, I'm going to ask you to tell the court about our conversation yesterday," Robin told him. "Are you willing to do that?"

"Of course," he replied, smile growing wider. "I think the real issue is whether this court's ready to hear it. Today's going to be one for the books, Mr. LeBlanc."

"No doubt."

Lloyd chuckled. "Well, this is interesting. Please, don't waste any time, if you don't mind, Mr. LeBlanc. I'd like to get this show on the road straight away."

"I'm inclined to agree. Mr. Desombres, please tell the court about your interaction with Mr. Gangrel Weissman, the heir apparent to the retired Plegian monarchy."

"Yes, sir." Renault bowed. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, those in the gallery, and esteemed members of the court, until today, you have known me as Renault Desombres, the legal scholar and associate of Fado Verlaine. I come before you today to inform you that such is not a complete and accurate description of my person. The truth of the matter is, before assuming my current position, I was a mercenary. I traveled from country to country, selling my services to whoever would offer me the best price. I fought and killed in the name of money. It is something that I deeply regret in my advanced age, but it is a part of me no less.

"I tell you this not as an act of contrition, but to explain my circumstances. You see, there was a certain job I took that altered my fate forever, and my employer was the government of Plegia, under the dedicated rule of King Abdiel Weissman at the time. I was given a contract with limited information, assigned to protect a certain building and some persons of interest within. What I didn't know at the time was that the building was a refuge for the king and his family to hide in from their attackers. When the fighting began, my ignorance caused a terrible accident…"

Renault closed his eyes. He exhaled, as if he were trying to push the doubts out of his head by force. "Ladies and gentlemen… I, Renault Desombres, killed King Abdiel Weissman. Taking him to be one of my enemies, I fired my weapon into his chest, killing him nigh-instantly. After that, a boy approached me, pounding his little fists against me for slaying his father. That boy was, of course, Prince Gangrel—now simply Gangrel Weissman."

The court had been shocked into silence. No one dared move or speak a word. Instead, their eyes bore holes into the defendant, evaluating with great care every pore on his skin to find the slightest glimpse of deceit or hesitation. Of course, there was none to be found. Renault Desombres was no longer afraid. The shadow of his deeds hung over him no longer—his expression was simply empty, the face of a man contented before the executioner's blade. He'd said what he needed to say.

Taking advantage of the silence, Robin spoke up: "It is for that reason that I now indict Gangrel Weissman with the murder of Fado Verlaine. I argue that Mr. Weissman did intentionally and knowingly arrange for Valter Mani to end Mr. Verlaine's life, making him equally culpable in the eyes of the law."

"Well now… that is quite an intriguing little yarn." Eyes drifted over to Lloyd. "But I don't think it's quite enough, Mr. LeBlanc. At this time, I have no reason to doubt the truth of Mr. Desombres's testimony, and I certainly can fathom that the murder of one's father would prove a strong motivator for yet more murder, but I fail to see how the story we have just been told provides proof that Mr. Weissman arranged for Mr. Verlaine's murder. Surely, based on what we've just heard, Mr. Desombres would be the more likely target, no?"

Robin nodded. "I can see how you'd come to that conclusion, but Mr. Desombres was under special protection following that incident. Isn't that right?"

"Just so," Renault agreed. "The members of the government who hired me… they apprehended me when I tried to flee. They feared that they, too, would be implicated in their king's death as a result of hiring me. As such, they gave me an ultimatum: continue living under a false identity and their constant scrutiny, or face immediate execution. Given my presence today, I think you can guess what I chose."

"A false identity, you say?" Lloyd started. "Just who are you, then? Have you any involvement in the law at all, or is even that mere fabrication?"

"No, not entirely," Renault replied. "First, I think I owe you all the duty of giving you my real name… I am not now, nor have I ever been Renault Desombres. My birth name is Renault LeBlanc. And to answer the question immediately raised by that statement, I used to act as the headmaster of a boarding school attended by the young man who is now my attorney."

"Wh-What's that?" Lloyd's eyebrows jumped up. "You were…?"

"A few record checks is all it'll take to see I'm telling the truth. The academy's name was the Lopto Institute for Higher Learning. It has connections to Lopto University, where I'm a professor emeritus, as I mentioned much earlier in this trial. I studied law at the university and was permitted to move to it after several years at the boarding school. Eventually, I retired to my own home, where I was no threat to anyone."

"And it was while you were studying law that you met Fado Verlaine, is that right?" Robin asked.

"Indeed. I took advantage of a study abroad program that brought me to Ylisse, where I learned of the way Ylisseans practice law, and I met Mr. Verlaine, who became a good friend of mine. We stayed in contact after the program, and continued to meet well after we'd both passed our bar exams."

Lloyd's fingers cupped his chin. "So, I'm to gather that Mr. Weissman was motivated to murder Mr. Des—sorry, Mr. LeBlanc's friend in order to harm him by proxy? That still seems a convoluted method of revenge, and one with very little evidence behind it, I'm afraid."

"You'll have your evidence, Prosecutor Reed," said Robin, "don't worry. Now that Mr. LeBlanc has revealed that critical information to the court, I'd like to present a piece of evidence that has been minimized since the beginning of this trial, but which now might have some greater significance."

"That's more like it." Lloyd crossed his arms.

Robin held up his cell phone. "Prosecutor Reed, you weren't present for the early stages of the trial, but I think the rest of the court will recall the message I received from the victim on the evening of his murder. I'll play it again for the court's convenience."

Robin fell silent as the recording played. The sharp noise rang out, unsettling the court again, then the white noise, and, finally, "Goodbye, LeBlanc."

Lloyd listened with his eyes closed. He didn't open them even after the recording finished. "And what are you suggesting with a message like that? It sounds like little more than a goodbye to you before the victim was murdered."

"That's what everyone assumed at first, even me," Robin said, "But didn't we just learn something that might recontextualize that message?"

"Something we… Oh!" Lloyd balled his fists.

"That's right. The final message in this recording… 'Goodbye, LeBlanc…' It wasn't addressed to me, but to Renault LeBlanc, the other man in the room at the time of the murder!"

"Ah!" the judge sputtered. "All this time, we never even imagined, and yet…!"

"Just a minute!" Lloyd shouted. "This is a pretty fantastical claim you're making. Tell me this: how do you know who the message is addressing?"

"This was the subject of some debate earlier in the trial," Robin recalled. "The idea that Fado would've called me in the middle of being murdered only to say goodbye seemed strange, and the sharp noise that we all heard at the beginning seemed to be a gunshot. Fado was shot in both the lungs and head, so it seemed impossible that he could've spoken, and yet, there the message was. Now we know the answer to that riddle."

"And what is that answer, exactly?"

"The reason why it seemed impossible for Fado to deliver that message was because… it was impossible. Fado was already dead by the time this message was recorded!"

The crowd in the court chattered with surprise. "W-What? The victim was dead? So… it wasn't his voice after all?"

"Exactly. Fado had the foresight to know something was wrong, but, unfortunately, he wasn't clairvoyant enough to know what in time to prevent it. Sensing danger, he called my phone, hoping that whatever happened next would be captured by someone else. His assassin must have noticed that he was making a call for help, and struck first while the phone rang—that was the shot to the lung. As the message recorded, the second shot was captured, followed by the killer's escape!"

"The killer's escape? Where does a farewell message fit into that?"

"As I just explained, the final words spoken by the killer were addressed not to me, but to Renault LeBlanc. The killer held Renault in place until our witness, Shinon Tisamo, appeared to take over. Just before the door burst open, the killer hid, and darted out of the building when the opportunity presented itself!"

"So you think he restrained the defendant, hm? But what does that farewell have to do with anything?"

"It was a signal to Renault, that he'd been found out. Maybe that he was next."

"Signal? How can a mere farewell be a signal? A threat, I suppose, but there was nothing particularly revelatory about those words."

"Wasn't there? Think about what we just heard: until today, Renault was living under a false name. Who would've been in a position to know that his last name was really LeBlanc?"

Lloyd pondered it for a second, then looked up and clapped his hands. "I see now. So, that's your evidence, then: only someone deep-seated in the pre-Grimme Plegian government could have known the defendant's real name… Marvelous deduction, Mr. LeBlanc. If I were wearing a cap, I'd tip it to you."

Robin eased off of his desk and folded his arms. "So, do you accept that evidence, Prosecutor Reed? Will you let me call Gangrel Weissman now?"

"Not just yet. Your theory still has a few holes in it, Mr. LeBlanc."

I should've known. It's never that easy.

"I'll accept the following without further deliberation: The killer was not Renault LeBlanc; the killer, not Fado Verlaine, gave Renault a final message that was recorded on your phone; and the killer must have been deeply involved in the Plegian government to know Renault's real name. With that said, I see only evidence for the assassin—Valter Mani, I believe you called him—to have been culpable. There remains nothing directly linking Mr. Mani's actions to Mr. Weissman."

"Gangrel Weissman is the means by which Valter Mani learned the defendant's real name," Robin answered. "I don't think it was possible for Valter to have learned it on his own. To my knowledge, he wasn't employed by the Plegian government until after Abdiel Weissman's assassination. We can check records, of course, but I imagine they'll be sparse with regard to Mr. Mani's employment."

"You make a good point," Lloyd concurred, grabbing his chin again. "However, an absence of proof to the contrary is not the same as confirmation—that is a fundamental principle of evidence. Speculation of the kind you've just stated isn't enough for me to budge on my position."

"Ugh! Jerk!" Morgan groaned to her employer, "You went through all that, and he's still not going to cooperate?"

"It's not entirely his fault," Robin said. "I am making quite a stretch. It's only natural he'd ask for more evidence before accepting it. I think he really is trying to help us, but he's not going to make it easy."

"Fado wouldn't have it any other way," said Anna. "You remember what the prosecutor was saying at the beginning, about trials being a battle of wits between prosecution and defense? Fado said something similar. I asked him if it ever bothered him that Ephraim became a prosecutor instead of a defense attorney, and he said no. 'The truth is the truth,' he said, 'somewhere between prosecution and defense, a proper trial will always get there.'"

Robin smiled. "He was a strange guy sometimes, but you got the feeling he knew and experienced so much. Standing here, I think I'm starting to realize how he felt. Is it weird to say I think I'm seeing clearer? My heart's pounding, and my skin's vibrating, but I don't mind it."

"Sounds like this is what you were born to do," said Anna.

"So, what are you going to do now?" Morgan asked.

"Now… I think I'll have to call in a favor. We'll give Lloyd all the proof he needs and then some!"

"Have you finished deliberating, Mr. LeBlanc?" the judge asked, looking down at Robin.

"Yes, Your Honor. If Prosecutor Reed would like more evidence, I'm happy to oblige. I will require one additional witness to explain the details, however."

"No objections." Lloyd Reed snapped his fingers. "Bring this witness forward. Let's hear what you've got, LeBlanc."

"Your Honor, the defense would like to call Mr. Matthew Terras."

Mixed chatter erupted from the gallery again as Matthew stood up. Noticing him, the bailiff came to his side and escorted him to the front of the courtroom, where he took up the stand. He gave both attorneys a wry grin. The judge called for order, and the court quieted down again, far too intrigued to interrupt.

"Mr. Terras," said Robin, "could you please tell the court your occupation?"

"Sure," he replied with a nod, "I'm an informant in the employ of the Ostian national government."

"A spy from Ostia?" Lloyd remarked. "Well now, what a tangled web we're weaving. You've my respect. It must take a lot of guts to stand trial and admit that to the entire world."

"Today's trial is more important to me than my job. Or my life," Matthew replied.

"Don't let me stop you," said Lloyd.

"Mr. Terras, are you familiar at all with the assassination of King Abdiel Weissman of Plegia?" Robin asked.

"At least as much as anyone else, yes."

"And were you ever asked to collect information about that incident by your employers?"

"I was. I had a partner, and the two of us were assigned to investigate anything suspicious about the circumstances surrounding the king's death."

"Did you ever find anything suspicious?"

"We did. A name that vanished from the records. He was listed as a 'contract worker' and paid an exorbitant sum for 'preservation of works of national interest.' He was contracted up until the day of the king's assassination, and then never afterward. All the other employees on that list were retained, and there was no documentation claiming he'd ever been fired."

"What was that person's name, Mr. Terras?"

"Renault LeBlanc."

Murmurs leaked out from the gallery. The judge glared at them.

"It sounds like the information you uncovered supports what the defendant just testified to. Is that fair to say, Mr. Terras?"

"I'd say so. I have no reason to doubt that Mr. LeBlanc's testimony is the whole truth."

"All right. One last thing: Mr. Terras, you mentioned you had a partner. Who was that?"

"That'd be Ms. Leila Viscount."

"And is Ms. Viscount also available for testimony?"

Matthew frowned. "Of course not. You oughta know… she's dead. She was the victim in the first case where you ever stood trial."

Robin nodded. "That's true, and I do know. I wanted everyone in the court to be able to hear it, too, though. Can you tell me how Leila died, Matthew?"

"She was poisoned… in a café. An assassin, name of Naesala Scaltro, put poison in her coffee. He was almost arraigned at the trial for her murder, but he held the whole court up at gunpoint. Somehow, he managed to sneak a weapon into the courtroom, and he shot the defendant and used a hostage to escape. He was arrested later when a confidant gave him up."

"Why did Naesala Scaltro kill Leila?"

"To get access to our report. Our findings about the Weissman assassination. Leila was going to share the report with a Ylissean ambassador, to expose what had really happened. When she was murdered, the report was stolen. It was never found on Naesala's person, but it's assumed that he transmitted it to his employer before he was caught."

"So, anyone in possession of that report, or the information therein, would necessarily be connected to Leila's murder?"

"Absolutely."

"In your opinion, Mr. Terras, who would have the most to gain from stealing that report?"

"Considering it contains information on the biggest Plegian political scandal in decades, I'd say someone within the Plegian government would have the most use for it."

"Objection," called Lloyd, "the witness is speculating."

"I asked him for his opinion, Prosecutor Reed, nothing more."

"I'll let it stand for now, but I suggest you make your point now, if you have one, Mr. LeBlanc," said the judge.

Robin bowed his head. "Yes, Your Honor." He turned to face Matthew again. "Mr. Terras, I'd like to ask you one more thing, if I can."

The witness shrugged. "I'm here as long as you need me."

"Do you recognize this symbol?" Robin held up the drawing that Henry had provided him.

Matthew stared at it intently. "Oh, yeah, I see. It's a symbol used by Plegian revolutionaries. People who are against the Plegian Reformation government that Validar Grimme leads."

"Would it interest you to know that Naesala Scaltro had such a symbol tattooed on his arm?"

Matthew's eyebrows jumped up. "Yes, it would."

"Is that true?" Lloyd demanded, leaning over his desk.

"Of course," said Robin, "It's all in his arrest records. They have a photo on file. I took a look at it myself."

"W-Well, now…" Lloyd muttered.

"Mr. Terras, do you think it would be fair to say that someone with that tattoo would need to have some connection to one of those revolutionary groups?"

"Definitely. I can't think of why else they'd have it."

"Just a moment," said Lloyd. "We can't conclusively prove that Mr. Scaltro obtained that tattoo because he worked with Plegian revolutionaries. He could've gotten it for any number of more innocuous reasons."

"I don't think so." Robin shook his head. "Wearing this symbol in public is illegal in Plegia. For that reason, I don't think just anyone would go around wearing it."

"It's true," the judge said, nodding slowly. "The very act of wearing the symbol on one's body is against the law. Tattoo artists in Plegia are not legally permitted to tattoo the symbol onto anyone for any reason."

"Is that right? Well, that is curious…" Lloyd couched himself in his thoughts again.

"So, if you'll allow me to summarize, what Mr. Terras has told us is that he and his partner had already uncovered the secret that Renault LeBlanc revealed to the entire court not long ago, the truth of Abdiel Weissman's assassination, and that they planned to make the information public, but their evidence was stolen by Naesala Scaltro, who happens to have a tattoo that identifies him as a member of a group that is opposed to Plegia's current government. In other words, Naesala is connected to someone who wants to overthrow the Plegian government, and yet, the documents he stole are most valuable to someone already in the government… how could that be?"

"Hold on… how do you figure that they're most valuable to someone in the government?" Lloyd asked. "That doesn't make any sense. Surely any revolutionary group would get just as much use out of those documents."

"Would they? The Plegian government is pretty powerful. This report proves they're guilty of some pretty heinous things. It would be difficult for just any revolutionary to prove the legitimacy of such a document. If someone revealed they had the real stolen document, how easy would it have been for them to show the public before the government got involved? How many of them could have hired an assassin to steal the documents from an Ostian agent in the first place?"

"I see your point, but how are you planning to connect this to Gangrel Weissman?"

"If you think back to everything we've learned so far, it's the only thing that makes sense: someone opposed to the current Plegian government, with the power and authority to have lots of people acting under his will, who stole documents pertaining to the death of Abdiel Weissman. Anyone else who had both those documents and the willingness to overthrow the Plegian government would've spoken up about the truth by now. Anyone else who worked for the existing Plegian government would never have employed someone like Naesala to steal the documents, and, if that tattoo is any indication, Naesala never would've helped them. The only person who could currently have Matthew and Leila's report is someone in a protected position in the Plegian government, but who lacks the authority to rule over any part of it, and the only person who fits that description is Gangrel Weissman!"

"And if that's the case, just why would Mr. Weissman have withheld the information for so long?"

"To prepare himself. To begin a coup where he uses the report to undermine Plegia's current government, and tries to reestablish his own. A plan that could only work out once the truth of the situation was totally obscured!"

"'Totally obscured?' What are you getting at?"

"Earlier, you questioned why Gangrel, who knew Renault had murdered his father, would target Fado Verlaine instead of Renault himself. I think I've found an answer that will satisfy you: Renault testified that he and Fado became friends well before the documents were stolen, right?"

"Yes, but—"

"So we can assume that Fado knew about Renault's situation. And if someone looked into Renault's situation, it would be easy to guess that Fado knew about it, too, given their history. That means that outside of the Plegian government and Gangrel, only two people knew how Abdiel Weissman died. Until today, Renault never would have revealed that information, under threat of death. Fado, however, wasn't under the same restraints—he might have spoken out to someone if a situation arose, and that was something that Gangrel couldn't have, so he had Fado taken out before executing his master plan. That is the real truth of this case!"

"A-Ah! I see!" Lloyd grunted. The gallery let out a round of shocked gasps and chatter before being silenced by the judge.

"Well, Prosecutor Reed, what do you think of my evidence?" Robin asked, laying one of his hands on his desk.

Lloyd Reed took a deep breath and smiled again. Then he let out a laugh. A hearty, sharp laugh that went on for several seconds. "Hah… All right, it's been fun putting you through the wringer like this… Very well, I concede that your argument has some merit. It's not fully developed, but I'm satisfied in seeing that you seem to have put at least some thought into it."

Easy for you to say, Johnny-come-lately.

"Your Honor," Lloyd continued, "I have at this time no further objections to the defense's earlier request. I join him in suggesting we bring Mr. Gangrel Weissman before the court as a witness."

"R-Really?" the judge stammered, "I've… never subpoenaed royalty before, but…"

Lloyd snapped his fingers. "I don't recall asking what you've done before. We're two attorneys asking that you deliver us a witness in the interests of justice. Don't waste my time with any hedging or self-saving prattle."

"V-Very well, then… I suppose I'll have to call a brief recess until the bailiff—"

"No," said Lloyd, "No recesses. Some pretty dangerous secrets have been passed around this room today, and I wouldn't want any valuable sources to suddenly… 'go missing.' Everyone stays in this courtroom until the bailiff brings Weissman here. End of story."

"That is not proper procedure, Prosecutor Reed," the judge said gruffly, rising from his chair.

"A lot of things about this case ain't proper, Your Honor," Lloyd replied, "starting with the Plegian government threatening a prosecutor with death. I don't take kindly to cowards like that. Your mealy-mouthed excuses aren't gonna get you out of rendering a proper verdict!"

"Eep!" The judge sat back down in his chair. Lloyd smirked.

The rest of the room was silent. Robin, Morgan, and Anna watched Lloyd at work on his end of the court, glad to not have his ire directed against them for once.

Lloyd looked at the bailiff. "Well? Did I stutter? Go get Weissman, and make it snappy! I'm sure someone's already told him all about this."

The bailiff saluted and ran off out the door.

"Well, now," Lloyd said as the room fell silent again, "what next? Staring contest? I Spy? I'm open to suggestions."

Anna laughed. Robin frowned at her. "I think I'd rather spend the time going over things with my co-counsel, if you don't mind," said Robin.

"Actually, I do mind," Lloyd said, "because there's one more thing I want to ask you, LeBlanc. Not as the defense, but as yourself."

Robin raised his eyebrows. "All right, go ahead."

"What made you decide to take this case?"

"What kind of question is that? Because my mentor was the one who was murdered."

"Exactly. And yet, here you are defending the man who the police said committed that murder. By now we know that's not true, but why didn't you just accept that story in the beginning."

"Because there was too much wrong with it. The evidence on the scene lent itself to different interpretations, the testimony didn't add up, and, at the time, the accused was closed-lipped about what happened, showing no intention to defend himself at all."

"I see… so you're drawn to these 'exceptional' cases. Yes, they're more stimulating for men like you and me, aren't they?"

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"Someone with your discerning eye could tell at first glance that this wasn't a normal homicide. With those cases, so many of them are the same story—someone got in a fight, someone got drunk, someone hated someone else, someone owed someone else money… Cases like these, however… they have a certain air about them that attracts people like you and I. We can sense there's a deeper truth beneath them, like a gemstone at the bottom of a pile of slag."

"I guess. I hadn't really thought about it, though. I just looked for the truth and eventually found it was more complex than people initially believed."

"That's the other component, isn't it? Determination. Plenty of people are willing to believe a convenient lie to suit their needs, as long as it keeps them from encountering an uncomfortable truth. It's dull. Thankfully, we deal in nothing but unpleasant truths here in the courtroom."

"Do you have a point?"

"Not really, no. Nothing I haven't already said. I apologize for misjudging your character at one time, that's all. You're a worthy successor to Mr. Verlaine."

"Er… thanks?"

"You're welcome. Go ahead and chat with your employees now, I'm done."

Robin shrugged. He turned to Morgan and Anna, who looked equally confused.

"So," Anna started, "Gangrel, huh? That was your thought all along?"

"Not until yesterday, actually."

"You didn't know who it was until yesterday?"

"How could I? We were still figuring out the case until then. Once the facts were made ironclad, then I was able to theorize."

"And you came up with the former king of Plegia? Well, I can't fault you for being insufficiently bold, I guess."

"I know it's a big claim, but like I said, I also know that it's the only thing that makes sense. Plus, I've got something in my back pocket that I think will seal this whole thing if we can get close enough."

"If it's that important, why haven't you already presented it?"

"It'll only be effective as evidence if there's no doubt left in everybody's minds." Robin winked. "Gotta end on a high note."

"Heh. Now that's the old Fado mentality."

"How do you plan to make Mr. Weissman say what you want him to say, Boss?" Morgan asked. "I doubt he'll cooperate."

"That's true. He'll probably deny everything I throw at him, so I'll have to try to wrap him up in what we do know—not just from this case, but from every case related to him."

"And, uh, how many cases is that, exactly?"

"All the ones we've been through," said Robin, "Plus the ones that were just me."

"You think he's involved in every case you've taken?"

"Almost definitely, yes."

"What makes you think that?"

"All the information we've gathered so far. Especially everything that Renault told us. I think Gangrel had another motive in all this business, beyond ousting Plegia's Reformation government. He wanted to make people suffer."

"Suffer…?"

"Look over the court record one more time with me, okay? I want to make sure I've got everything memorized down to the letter when he gets up there." Morgan complied, staring with awe at the ever-growing folder as her employer placed it on the desk with a thud.

[November 9th, 12:11 pm, Ereb District Court – Courtroom No. 8]

The doors to the courtroom squeaked as they opened. Everyone in the court instantly turned their heads to the noise and saw the bailiff bringing forth none other than the rightful heir to the Plegian throne. Gangrel Weissman wore a black suit with a simple white shirt underneath, plus a mustard-yellow tie and accompanying pocket square. There was nothing especially unique about his outfit. By contrast, his face was sharp and angular, and ashen-gray in color. His hair was maroon, and wound into wild curls that rolled freely away from his head. He had a pencil-thin beard of the same color. Beyond all that, however, he bore a smirk more wicked than any Robin had ever seen. The whiteness of his teeth was chilling.

The judge cleared his throat. "Order, please, ladies and gentlemen. The trial of Renault Desombres will now reconvene. We will begin to question the witness without further delay."

"Too right," said Lloyd. "Why don't you tell the court your name and occupation, witness?"

"My name is Gangrel Weissman," he said, "and I am the prince of a Plegian government that is no more. I have no occupation, other than lamentations over the loss of my home. I live on a small reservation provided by the Plegian government and buy groceries with a modest monthly stipend."

"Do you know why it is you've been summoned here, Mr. Weissman?" asked Lloyd.

"I do," he said, curling his tongue. "The defense attorney there seems to think that I am somehow capable of hiring an assassin to murder some old lawyer I've never heard of in some elaborate scheme to take over the entire Plegian government. And you dolts were willing to believe him." The former prince glared toward the back of the room. "Honestly, I was just in the middle of perusing my morning paper when these policemen stormed in and dragged me away, and for what? A scrawny punk with a chip on his shoulder?"

"I took my time establishing my credibility to the court, Mr. Weissman," said Robin. "That's why you're here to testify now. If you really weren't involved, it should be easy for you tell the court as much and walk away."

Gangrel's eyes grew sharp and cold as icicles. "I really loathe having my time wasted like this. Start talking. The sooner you finish, the sooner I can leave."

"All right, then. Mr. Weissman, do you know Valter Mani?"

"Never heard of him."

"And Naesala Scaltro?"

"No idea."

"Fado Verlaine?"

"Not in the slightest."

"And what about Caellach Broduin?"

"Haven't the foggiest. Look, you can read off as many names as you want, lawyer. I don't know anything about them or this case."

"How about Lyon Mulroy? Or Tharja Anderra? Or Oliver Pope? Or Sonia Verdun?"

"Wh-What…?"

"That's enough, Mr. LeBlanc," said Lloyd, "I'll let you do your questioning, but you can't just go shouting names at the witness all day. Ask a real damn question."

"Have you ever heard of Renault LeBlanc, Mr. Weissman?"

"Hey! I just said—"

"This one's important! Mr. Weissman, do you know who Renault LeBlanc is?"

"No, I don't."

"You don't know the name of the man who murdered your father?"

"What are you on about? As far as I'm aware, Ashnard Daein was the one who killed my father."

"And yet, we have the sworn testimony of Mr. Renault LeBlanc himself saying that you looked him in the eyes after he killed your father."

"I don't know what to tell you other than that I know nothing about any such incident."

"Fine, then. If you want to play it this way, then we'll play it this way." Robin folded his arms. "Mr. Weissman, please tell the court what you do remember about the day your father died."

"You want me to talk about something that happened that many years ago? You really think you'll get any valuable information about that?"

"Well, you've left me in a bind, Mr. Weissman. You refuse to tell me about anything I ask, saying you don't know anything about it. Now I have to ask you to tell me about something you do know if I'm going to give the court something useful."

He shrugged. "Fine. You'll fail anyway, so what does it matter to me? All I can tell you is that I was quite young. I traveled to one of my father's estates with him. I believe he told me that it was to prepare for a fruit harvest, but I know that was untrue. Really, he'd most likely heard of the assassination those Ylissean dogs prepared for him, and that drove us into hiding."

"'Ylissean dogs,' you say? Do you know for a fact that your father's assassin was Ylissean? And that there were multiple people present?"

"Don't be a fool. Of course I do."

"And how do you know that?"

"The official report of my father's assassination says that he was killed in a coordinated strike by insurgents from Ylisse, particularly known polemic Ashnard Daein. Those are the absolute facts as I know them."

"And could you, personally, tell that there were multiple people around?"

"I heard many sets of footsteps in the dark. There's no way only one person could have been involved, if that's what you're suggesting."

"Not at all, actually. I agree with you on that point. Now, tell me this, did you ever see Ashnard Daein's face, that you can recall?"

"No… the area was dark. Even if I did see him, I wouldn't be able to recall his face at this moment."

"You didn't see his face? You wouldn't know if you did, hm?"

"Th-That's what I said! Are you deaf, or just stupid?"

Robin frowned. "Mr. Weissman, it seems like what you're telling me is that you can't prove that Ashnard Daein killed your father."

"What are you talking about? Of course he did! I told you the Plegian government's official findings, didn't I?"

"And yet, this court has just heard sworn testimony that runs counter to those findings. Renault LeBlanc has admitted to the murder of Abdiel Weissman before the law. What do you think this means?"

"Nothing, as far as I'm concerned! I don't care who's confessed to what. As far as I can tell, you've yet to state anything that even suggests I'm involved in this matter, let alone proves as such."

Anna shook her head. "Doesn't seem like you're making much progress."

Robin nodded. "Yeah, he's pretty obstinate. The biggest obstacle is that I don't have anyone else who can prove that he met with Renault. If there was evidence of that, we'd be ready to go."

"But, like you just said, there isn't," said Morgan.

"…Thanks for your help, Morgan."

"S-Sorry! I was just thinking that maybe that line of questioning is a dead end. We know what Mr. LeBlanc told us, but nobody can speak for Mr. Weissman except himself. But there are other things we can ask him about, right? Things that more people than just him can verify, you know?"

Robin pinched his chin. "As a matter of fact, I think I do know. Good job, Morgan. You make a very good point."

She grinned. "Just doing my best."

"Mr. Weissman," Robin said, "let me ask you about something else, if I may."

"Whatever you like, just as long as we can wrap this up quickly."

"Are you now, or have you ever been a member of a counter-revolutionary organization? A group that's opposed to Plegia's Reformation government?"

The witness rolled his eyes. "No, I'm not, and I never was."

"Interesting. That's not what Lyon Mulroy told me."

"Wh-What? What do you mean? Who told you—"

"Lyon Mulroy, a convicted murderer. A murderer for whose conviction I'm partly responsible. I had a chat with him while I was in Plegia. While we spoke, he made it clear to me that you, Gangrel Weissman, were involved in just such an organization. Not only that, but he told me you were personally involved in giving him the kill order!"

"R-Ridiculous! I did no such thing!"

"Is that right? How about if I were to bring him in to testify? How would you feel about that?"

"N-No! I object! I refuse! Prosecutor, tell him he's not allowed to do that!"

Lloyd Reed shrugged. "I don't see why he shouldn't. It's related to the issue at hand. I say the more evidence the better."

"What?! What sort of useless prosecutor are you?!"

Lloyd narrowed his eyes. "Careful. I've cut down better men than you for saying less."

"You honestly think I'd fear you…!" Gangrel balled his fist and glared right back at the prosecutor. "Heh. This is nothing. No matter at all. I'll make sure to have you reported to the proper authorities when this farce of a trial is over."

"Report me?" Lloyd shrugged. "What, exactly, are you gonna tattle on me for?"

"You're colluding with that one over there," said Gangrel. He pointed at Robin, but maintained eye contact with the prosecutor. "You think I can't tell, but it's quite obvious. You know exactly what you're doing."

"I'm not colluding with anyone but Lady Justice," Lloyd replied. "You probably don't know her. She's a sweet girl, but blind, and fickle as all hell. Her sword cuts down sinners with frightening aplomb. And right now, it's leveled at you. So I'd suggest you either keep talking, or move out of the way for someone who will, 'Your Highness.'" This last remark was accentuated with an overly sarcastic bow.

"F-Fine," Gangrel growled. "We don't need another witness. Some of what you've said is true, I have had contact with revolutionary groups. I'm at odds with the way the Reformation government rules, like many Plegian citizens. That doesn't mean I'm connected to this murder in any way, though. If that Mulroy fellow told you I was involved in any assassination orders, he's lying. There's no proof of anything like that."

Robin smiled. He finally had his break.

"Did Mr. Mulroy really tell you that?" Morgan asked her employer. "I don't remember him saying anything about Gangrel specifically."

Robin shook his head. "No, he didn't, but he didn't need to. I've been making plenty of inferences through this whole case, so, in this instance, all I needed was to make a little gamble. And it looks like I won."

"Gamble?"

"Yep. Gangrel obviously knows more than he's letting on, and he knows that I know that, so this cross-examination just boils down to a game of me forcing him to admit what he knows. What he doesn't know is what I've been up to, so if he thinks Lyon spilled the beans, he's not going to risk letting me have Lyon testify in his place, even if he doesn't believe I'm telling the truth."

Morgan cocked an eyebrow. "I think I get it…"

"Bit odd to use the phrase 'spill the beans' in reference to a murder plot," Anna observed.

"If you've got a better idiom, I'm all ears," said Robin. Anna took a second to actually consider it, then shrugged.

Robin turned to face the gallery. "Ladies and gentlemen of the court, now that Mr. Weissman has admitted his involvement with a revolutionary group, I'd like to present you all with some evidence."

"Finally," said Lloyd Reed, folding his arms.

"First, this symbol." Robin held up the drawing Henry had sketched for him. "This symbol is an emblem used by the largest revolutionary group in Plegia. Everyone except Mr. Weissman saw it earlier when I showed it to Mr. Terras. You'll recall that bearing the symbol in any way, including tattoos, is illegal in Plegia, meaning that no one would wear it if they weren't involved with the group. You may also recall that the assassin Naesala Scaltro had just such a tattoo on his arm. What you don't know is that Naesala Scaltro is not the only assassin I've spoken to who bears this mark. I've also spoken to Lyon Mulroy, as I mentioned before, and Henry Laffer, who was responsible for the murder of Linde Miloah. Those two both told me interesting and similar stories: they were approached by someone bearing this symbol who eventually told them to commit murder, and they ended up doing exactly that. By contrast, I also had the chance to speak to Tharja Anderra, who was similarly approached, but didn't accept the offer. As a result, she was instead drugged and pinned as the scapegoat for a murder committed by Lyon Mulroy. Luckily, in her case, I was able to successfully defend her."

"So, there's a pattern. A methodology to this rash of assassins," concluded Lloyd.

"Exactly. And it's not just their recruitment that's similar—think of their targets. Naesala murdered a foreign spy with information that would have vindicated a Ylissean terrorist. Lyon murdered a decorated Ylissean war veteran. Henry murdered a beloved priestess of the Ylissean church."

"Killing Ylisseans of import in the name of opponents of Plegia's current government? Feels like there's a crossed wire there somewhere."

"It does, doesn't it? Think about this: the last war between Ylisse and Plegia ended during Abdiel Weissman's rule, but well before his assassination. The assassination was internationally reviled as an act of terrorism that Ylisse should have controlled, and yet, in the wake of everything… what did Plegia do about it?"

Lloyd waited a few seconds, then looked around. "Are you asking me? I don't know of anything they did, specifically."

Robin nodded. "Exactly. Tensions between the countries were at an all-time high, and Plegians desperately wanted revenge for their slain king. But Validar Grimme never imposed any significant penalty on Ylisse for the action. We know why now—strong sanctions would lead to an investigation, an investigation would lead to the truth, and the truth would lead to Validar Grimme's reign collapsing. So he stayed silent, despite his citizens' desires. Plegian citizens wanted to punish Ylisse, but Validar didn't."

"I get the essence of what you're saying, but what's your point?" Lloyd asked.

"Consider our current case, and see what you think: here we have a Ylissean highly involved in his country's legal system, and a Plegian citizen who, it just so happens, was responsible for King Weissman's assassination who ended up getting the blame for the murder."

"The victim was Ylissean… so, you're saying…"

Robin tapped his index finger on his forehead. "The conclusion I've reached is that Fado Verlaine's murder was not orchestrated by the Plegian government."

"Hang on a second," Lloyd protested, "be more specific. We all know that Fado was murdered by Valter Mani, right? That's not in dispute. But Valter was an agent of the Plegian government. I thought earlier you were saying only someone high-up in that government structure could've been responsible for ordering Fado dead."

Robin nodded. "And that remains true. But the government itself couldn't have been responsible for it. That would be at odds with everything we know as of now."

"I see… someone high-up in the government, but who doesn't share its interests… I see what you're getting at."

"No matter how we talk this issue through, all the evidence we have leads up to only one logical conclusion: that Gangrel Weissman was the one who orchestrated this plot!"

Gangrel shook his head. "Is that really all you have to say? We've been talking in circles for so long, and all you can do is return to the same assumptions and suppositions you've been blabbering about from the beginning? When do you plan to present this court with any real evidence? Any real proof? If you really think I'm responsible, then show us why, dammit! I've already wasted so much of time in this frivolous trial!"

Murmurs began to fill the court.

"It really does feel like we're getting nowhere, doesn't it, Boss?" said Morgan. "We keep trying to prove everything we can, but there's just not enough to latch onto."

"Well, I have been holding on to a 'secret weapon' of sorts. I wasn't sure how relevant it would be, or when it would be best to use it, but… seeing where we are now, I think it's appropriate. We've established everything we can with mere words, so now's the time to go for the throat."

"Secret weapon? Really?"

"So secret I don't even know what you're going on about," Anna added.

"Mr. Weissman, I appreciate your patience through these proceedings," said Robin. Gangrel rolled his eyes. "I promise, I only have a few more questions for you."

"Go on, then. It won't make a difference."

"Do you own a deck of cards, Mr. Weissman?"

"Oh, what in the—how could that possibly be relevant?!"

"For once, I share His Majesty's skepticism," Lloyd added. "Where are you going with this?"

"As the other members of the court may recall, there was the matter of a conspicuous switching of a particular card that was clasped in Fado's hand at the scene. A tarot card was switched out for a Ylissean playing card."

"And what does that have to do with me? As I understand it, I'm not suspected of committing the murder myself."

"That card led me to the conclusion that there had been someone else in the room at the time of the murder, because it was a tarot card. There was a deck of tarot cards right beside the table where the victim and the defendant played their game, but they played exclusively with Ylissean cards. If either of them had swapped a card out before or after the game, it would've been obvious, and the situation wouldn't have played out like it did. It has since been the defense's position that the assassin Valter Mani swapped that card. Caellach Broduin testified that their plan had been to use the card as a signal—that one of the players would eventually draw the tarot card from a stacked deck, and that the person who drew it would be the target."

"Is that even possible?" asked Lloyd. "How would he have gotten it into the deck before the murder? How could he be sure the right person would draw that card?"

Robin shook his head. "He couldn't. It wouldn't have been possible to do it that way without someone's cooperation."

"Are you about to suggest another person was involved in this killing?" Gangrel shouted in disgust.

"Not at all," Robin replied, "It also became clear through the course of Mr. Broduin's testimony that he was stretching the facts. Originally, he claimed he was the one who murdered Fado in order to muddy the truth, but evidence quickly made his deception obvious. However… it was also clear that he wasn't completely lying. I think that card really was a signal."

"What? But you just explained how it was impossible for it to have been used as a signal for the murderer!"

"That's just it," said Robin, wagging his finger, "it wasn't a signal for the murderer, it was a signal for the assassin's employer!"

"Wh-What?! What makes you think that?" Gangrel scoffed.

"It took a lot of careful consideration, but I never would have realized the problem without the help of a friend and expert in tarot, Ms. Tharja Anderra. She pointed out that if you look closely at the tarot card, you'll notice something odd about it: the orb that the Emperor is holding on that card is cracked in a way that isn't consistent with most Plegian tarot card designs."

"And what does that matter? A different design?"

"I wasn't sure what to make of that, either, but as my theory of the case developed, I got an idea, and I asked Ms. Anderra to check on it. Before I get into that, however, I want to make note of one more thing: Mr. Weissman, you said you were reading your newspaper this morning when the police approached you, is that right?"

"Yes. Thank you for reminding me of my disruptive morning."

"Did any of the officers happen to take that paper with them?"

"Wh-What? Why?"

"Three days ago, the front cover of the Ereb Times featured a photo of the crime scene along with a report on the murder. What's interesting about that is that the photo didn't show much of the scene besides the card in Fado's hand, which was in the center of the frame. Of course, there wouldn't be anything like that on today's paper. And it'd be odd if you were looking at a three-day-old newspaper this morning, wouldn't it?"

"Really?" Gangrel shrugged. "We've come this far, and that's what you have to show for it? A newspaper?"

"I didn't get a chance to mention what Ms. Anderra found."

"A-And that is?"

"Mr. Weissman, I'm sure you know that at one time, the Plegian royal family was very much into mysticism. At one point, they apparently even practiced fortune telling. For that purpose, the family was given a special gold box filled with a set of tarot cards, to be passed down from each lineal descendant. It's a very special set of cards believed to hold magic powers, which is why no one is allowed to see them but the royals themselves… well, until recently, that is."

"W-What are…? Oh no, you are not seriously…"

"The tarot card that appeared in Fado's hand, and on the front page of the Ereb Times… it was yours, Gangrel Weissman!"

"Th-That's not…! No! That's ridiculous! You don't have any proof of any of that!"

"The royal tarot cards are a well known tradition. When I spoke with Renault, he even mentioned specifically seeing their container on the nightstand the evening he killed your father."

"That never happened!"

"And then there's the matter of that newspaper… Prosecutor Reed, would you accept a request for the police to retrieve the newspaper Mr. Weissman was reading?"

Lloyd shrugged. "It's no skin off my nose."

"Hm… Mr. LeBlanc's theory is a curious one, but I cannot say that I am entirely unconvinced by it," said the judge, "in the interest of equality of justice, I suppose we must investigate it—"

"Shut up!" The heads of everyone in the courtroom whipped over to Gangrel, whose once composed frown had descended into a long and jagged scowl. "You useless, idiotic, sham of an excuse for an officer of justice! All you've done is arbitrate over the collusion between these two half-witted shysters! This entire courtroom is nothing but a monument to iniquity and incompetence! I refuse to tolerate it any longer!"

"N-Now, just a moment," said the judge, "I can't have you making such outbursts, or I'll—"

"You'll what? Hold me in contempt? You're lucky I don't hold you in contempt! It wasn't long ago, I'd have owned you! Everything in this court is mine to control, you understand?"

"That's not how the law works, Mr. Weissman," said Robin.

"And you…! You're going to tell me how the law works? You'd dare to disgrace my nation with all your Ylissean swagger, knowing that your own countrymen killed my father and left me with nothing?! You, of all people, are going to tell me what is and isn't law?!"

"I'm afraid I must, since you seem to have forgotten."

"Oh, yes, very good. Very clever, you've enraptured every one of these simpering fools with your silver tongue, from the prosecution to the judge, but not me! I'm not fooled! You haven't said one damned thing that's the slightest bit provable! I have nothing to do with this murder, and that is final! I defy you to prove otherwise!"

Morgan looked around the courtroom. The entire room had become silent, their attention directly squarely upon Robin and Gangrel. Even the jury seemed to be eyeing them both with equal suspicion. Robin's fist tensed.

"That's right," Gangrel said with a smile, "you have nothing to say, because you know the truth is that you can't prove anything. You managed to fool others with your theories and your posturing, but as soon as you come up against someone who knows how to think for himself, you're at a loss. You can herd the sheep all day, but you have no hope of controlling a wolf like me, LeBlanc."

"This looks serious," said Anna. "Robin, you have to say something. He's swinging the momentum back in his favor."

"B-But… he's right," said Robin, "I… don't actually have hard evidence, just speculation and theory… D-Dammit! My whole body's freezing up again…!"

"Boss!" Morgan pleaded, "What you have isn't just speculation! You put so much thought into all this, you can't just back down now! Mr. Verlaine would you to grow from what you experienced! You have to push back against your fear! Think about what's more important, like you helped me do!"

"Grow from what I experienced… what's more important…" Robin weighed those statements upon his tongue.

"Come on, boy!" Gangrel jeered, "Speak up! It's time for you to reveal your elegant reasoning to the court! Or are you hesitating because they'll all realize what a fraud you are?!"

Robin nodded. "The truth… is that I have no empirical evidence upon which to indict Mr. Gangrel Weissman."

Gangrel laughed. "Exactly as I thought! This entire charade has been a tremendous waste of time, and anyone who believed this lawyer was as much of an ignorant fool as he is himself!"

"But, in this situation, I've got an advantage you don't have, Mr. Weissman. I've stripped away all your power?"

"HA! 'Stripped away my power?' What are you going on about?! As you can clearly see, my power has never been greater! Everyone in this room acknowledges that my influence is greater than yours! You have nothing, LeBlanc! Nothing!"

"And by coming in here, you've lost your power of coercion."

"Haha—er, what?"

"This whole time, I've been accusing you of criminal conspiracy. I've never once brought in any of your co-conspirators, fearful that they may refuse to testify. But it's just occurred to me that now, while you're on your last legs, with enough of them here, their allegiances might start to turn."

"Wh-Wh-What?"

"We all know that Valter Mani committed this murder. He could be sentenced to death for such a heinous crime. But… what if he delivered key testimony that put away the man really pulling his strings? The court might show him clemency and only give him life in prison at that point."

"N-No, he wouldn't…! I… that is, there's no one else for him to testify about! He's the murderer! Anyone else he'd implicate would be a lie! An excuse!"

"What if I were to ask Naesala Scaltro himself?"

"H-Huh?!"

"What if I asked Naesala Scaltro who asked him to steal those documents from Leila Viscount? We've already conclusively established that that person would clearly also be implicated in this murder."

"N-No, that's not true…! That has nothing to do with…!"

"Oh, really? Then let's do it! What do you say, Mr. Weissman? Let's bring Naesala Scaltro and Valter Mani in to testify, if you're so sure!"

"Y-You… you can't do that…! Their word isn't to be trusted! They're criminals!"

"Criminals with nothing left to lose. And the word of both of them is enough to verify the truth. But, of course, there are more witnesses I could bring in, aren't there?"

"N-No, there's no one…!"

"No one? Not even Lyon Mulroy? He wouldn't say anything if he saw your face? And what about Oliver Pope, the man you've been using to extort from others for years?"

"I haven't… That's not…!"

"Or what about Henry Laffer, Mr. Weissman?" Robin's eyes burned.

"He's… there's no one…!"

"There's no point in trying to deny it. You're only going to delay the inevitable!"

"H-How dare you…!"

"The only thing I need to do, in order to bring this case to its conclusion, is the same thing that Fado did—to be bold, and to trust those around me to do their part."

"Be bold… trust…?" Gangrel's face screwed up.

"I share the witness's confusion," said Lloyd, "What do you mean by that remark, LeBlanc?"

"I mean that it took me a while, but I finally understand what Fado was doing on the evening of the crime. He took two crucial and very dangerous steps that led to this case's resolution."

"And what were those?"

"First, the recording: Fado must have sensed danger while he was sitting at the table. Since we know now that Valter was hiding in the rafters of the room where he and Renault were playing cards. At some point, he must have noticed Valter, and that was when Valter decided to strike."

"What makes you so sure that Fado noticed him?"

"If you look at the record, you'll note that Ephraim and I discussed at some length the fact that two shots were fired at the scene—the first, a shot to the lungs, would've been fatal, but only after some time. The second was a headshot that killed Fado instantly. Valter Mani, hiding in the rafters, had the advantage of both height and surprise on Fado, and the distance between them was fairly small. Scoring a clean headshot from that vantage point would've been child's play for anyone, even someone who barely knew how to fire a gun. And yet, Valter missed his first shot by a wide margin, striking Fado about a foot below his brain. How could he have missed so badly? The only reasonable explanation is that he was caught off-guard."

"I see. Hm… that does stand to reason. Keep going."

"At the point that Fado noticed Valter, he could've done anything. We can't say what would or wouldn't have worked, but the fact is, there were plenty of moves for him to make. His choice was to make a call… a call to me."

"That's right, he called you, but you were asleep, and failed to answer it, right?"

"Right. And as a result, Fado was shot in the lung just before my answering machine picked up. He was silently dying as Valter prepared his second shot, but he made one more move to get his message across, knowing what was about to happen. That's where the tarot card comes in."

"Hold on a moment, I thought you told us that the tarot card wasn't present until after the crime had been committed—that neither of the players had switched it out."

"And I stand by that theory. But there's an earlier component to the mystery of the cards that only recently started to make sense. And now, we have it laid out before us. On the first day of this trial, we counted the cards in both the Ylissean and Plegian decks in the room—the Plegian set was never touched by the players, because they used the Ylissean set. Despite that, one thing became perfectly clear: prior to being killed, Fado was holding a king of diamonds in his hand, and an Emperor card was missing from the tarot deck. After quickly calling me and taking a bullet, Fado made one last ploy to send a message about his attacker: he took the king card he was holding, and clenched it in his fist so that everyone would know who was responsible."

"He was… clutching the king? But he was definitely holding an Emperor card when the body was found, right?"

"Exactly. Valter was planning to leave the Emperor card as his signal for completing the murder—a unique message that only the true architect of the murder would recognize, so that he'd know exactly what had happened when the card was shown in the newspaper. He must have also realized, however, that Fado was trying to send a similar message by holding the king. To fix that, Valter switched the king out with the Emperor card he was planning to use as a signal."

"And what about the Emperor card from the Plegian deck? You said that was missing, too."

"That's true. And we know thanks to Tharja that the design of the Emperor card Fado was holding didn't match the design of the rest of that set. But still, that set's Emperor was nowhere to be found. Suppose, however, that Valter removed that card from the deck and left with it to create the very confusion that resulted in the ensuing trial—making it look like one card had been swapped for the other, when, in fact, both cards had been swapped out for the one Valter held!"

"And then that arrogant bastard mocking Renault… it was caught on the message Fado's phone recorded before it cut out."

"Exactly." Robin nodded. "So, in his final moments, faced with an impossible multiplicity of decisions, Fado clearly made a final choice: rather than run or fight for his life, he chose to send a message to those who would discover his body. He placed his trust in me, and in Ephraim, to find the truth underlying his murder!"

Lloyd nodded thoughtfully. "I see, I see. Gutsy old man… He really did have a lot of faith in you. Glad to see it wasn't misplaced."

"Excuse me!" Gangrel shouted, "You two gibbering apes seem to have forgotten the reason why you're here! You have no evidence that the tarot card or any of the events you're describing have the slightest bit to do with me!"

Robin turned around and pointed his finger sharply at Gangrel. The sudden gesture made Gangrel lean back. "The point I'm making… is that I don't need hard evidence to put you away. I just have to follow Fado's example, and entrust others with bringing forth the truth!"

"Wh-What?"

"I know all about your tactics, Gangrel. Every killer I've interviewed has said the same thing—they said they'd never reveal their employer, because it would mean death for them. But then, something unexpected happened, didn't it? Something that didn't comport with your plan."

"What are you talking about?"

"Ephraim Verlaine, that's what! You were the one trying to keep him silent about Valter in the last part of the trial! But he decided, just like his father, that he wasn't going to be intimidated. He was going to do what he had to in order to reveal the truth to the world. And you didn't count on that. You spent so long abusing your position and hiding behind people stronger than you that you forgot that when you're put on the defensive, you lose those advantages. So… let's go back to my original suggestion. Let's bring in Naesala Scaltro, and Valter Mani, and every other person you've ever hired, and hear their testimony!" Robin slapped his palms onto his desk. "If you've told the truth, and they have nothing to do with you, then you shouldn't have anything to fear, right?"

"N-Now just a moment…! How can you be certain that any of them will tell the truth?! How can you believe their word?!"

"I don't have to just take their word for it. If my theory of the murder is correct, then Valter in particular should have some of that hard evidence I'm missing, shouldn't he?"

"Wha…? Valter… evidence?"

"That's right. Valter, who we've already established is the true killer, should have both the king and the Emperor cards from the murder scene. Not only that, but the king card, like the other cards Fado was holding before he was shot, should be marked with the victim's own blood! If he has those in his possession, then it should be clear that he switched them out for the tarot card. A tarot card which, we can confirm, could only have been given to him by one person." Robin thrust his finger out against Gangrel again, this time like a spear being jabbed into his foe's core. "So, it's time to answer, Gangrel! Whose side do you think Valter will come down on? Whose story do you think he'll support?! Without blackmail, with your scheme laid bare, what do you think he'll say if we invite him to the witness stand?! Time to hear it from your own lips!"

Gangrel's face fell to the floor, and he heaved a long sigh. "So… that's it then, eh? One way or another… I'm ruined, aren't I?"

The court fell deadly silent.

"You admit it, then?" Robin asked.

Gangrel lifted his head, a smile on his face. He laughed dryly, expelling all the air from his lungs. "Yes, why not? You're completely right, you know? Absolutely, completely, entirely right! Down to the very last detail! There's no use in fighting it… it's all true! I orchestrated the murder of Fado Verlaine through Valter Mani! There's no doubt about it!"

Chatter consumed the courtroom until the judge sounded off with his gavel, demanding order.

"So, you finally decided to come clean," said Lloyd. He leaned aggressively at Gangrel. "The blade of justice will rush swiftly for your neck."

"I suppose it will… haha! Oh, well. I'd grown quite tired of living this way at any rate. I'll be escaping this worthless life one way or another!" He looked over at Robin and smiled a fierce crocodile's grin. "So, you've done it, young attorney! Rejoice! You foiled my little plan! Of course, in so doing, you allowed you mentor to die, and jeopardized the political stability of this country by revealing that it conspired to hide the truth of the death of its own rightful ruler. Once that news disseminates to the rest of the nation… heheh! Things are going to get a lot more interesting around here. In a way, my plan has already come to fruition, even if I won't be around long to witness it! And I have you to thank for it! Oh, and thank you I have…! Yes, indeed, I've thanked you oh so much for all the wonderful things you've given me, haven't I? Hahahahahaha!"

Anna frowned sympathetically at Robin. "What is he talking about?"

"So, that's all true, too," said Robin.

"Yes, yes, yes!" Gangrel laughed. "Want to hear me confess to it? It was me! I hired Henry Laffer to kill Linde Miloah, and to blame it on you! I hired Naesala Scaltro to kill Leila Viscount, and to blame it on Pelleas Apoleus, and sent him to you as a client! And the prosecutor in that case? She was on my payroll, too! The entire case was a bear trap for you! And then when you scraped by that one, I hired Lyon Mulroy to murder Harken Gaetz and blame it on Tharja Anderra! All along, every time, it's been me, me me! And you know exactly why, don't you?"

"Boss," Morgan said, tugging on his suit, "is this to do with what Mr. LeBlanc said? About you coming to the school…?"

"But there's one more thing you don't know. One thing about how you ended up at that school!"

Robin stared straight ahead, channeling all his energy into his tensed fists.

"Why do you think Valter Mani agreed to work for me in the first place? He was an agent of the Reformation government, so why would he trust me? Hehe… It's because we knew each other from before! He did some work for me just after you were born! Can you guess what it was? Hehehehahahaha!"

Lloyd snapped his fingers. "I've heard enough of this fool's rambling. Let's get him fitted for his new jewelry and be on our way with the verdict."

Gangrel ignored him. He continued to leer at Robin. "So, how does it feel, Robin LeBlanc? Every moment of your life, you shared the same suffering I did! You endured pain and hardship, and so, so much sorrow, all because you never really knew what was happening right under your nose. How do you feel about your terrific powers of deduction now?! How does it feel to have lived a life of meaningless suffering?!"

Robin shook his head. "I feel just fine."

"W-What?!"

"Despite what you've said, Gangrel, my life isn't meaningless. And it hasn't just been suffering. True, I've had difficult times. Times of great pain. And it hurt even more to not know why I seemed to be the target of so much pain. But in the end, I don't feel the despair you want to see in me. Despite everything you did to try to ruin my life, with the help of others who I learned to trust and rely on, I pushed through those hard times, and into happier ones. The painful moments… they've all passed on into distant memory already. But the people who've helped me along the way? They're all still here. They're all still making me happy. And they're all right beside me in this moment. The only one whose life has been wasted…" Robin pointed his finger. "Is yours. So much hate and vitriol, wasted on a person who never would've known you existed if you'd only been willing to let go of your grudge. If your goal all along was to make me suffer, then all I can tell you is that you've accomplished nothing."

Gangrel's fist tensed, and his eyes bulged. "I…! I-I…! This…! How could you…! Aghhh!"

Gangrel stared intently at the attorney pointing at him from across the courtroom, gritting his teeth. "You…" he hissed. He felt sweat dripping down his forehead. "You're nothing…! I…!" He turned to face the prosecutor, but only saw Robin pointing at him again. "What? You…! You're not…!" He looked out to face the jury, but only saw two more rows of Robin—the same face and figure, pointing back at him. He whipped his head around to face the judge—Robin. He spun around again to look for the bailiff—Robin. He turned to face the galley, breath catching in his throat. Before him, a sea of indistinguishable faces. Every single one of them a mop of combed white hair, a purple suit, and a finger pointed directly in his face. "No! No! This… this can't be…! You're…! You're…!" He punched the witness stand. "I hate you! Your filthy, smug happiness! I want to tear the smile from your snide face, you disgusting—"

"Give up," he heard Robin say.

"How dare you—"

"You're a waste of space." The voice echoed across the courtroom.

"You little—"

"You'll never take my place." The echoing continued a hundred fold.

"I'll kill you! I'll stamp you out! All of you! I deserve to be king! ME! I alone stand above all! I alone deserve the power! It's mine!"

"You don't deserve anything. You have no power." The voice had settled back down to just one. The first Robin, the one behind the defense bench, was marching toward him. The rest of the courtroom began to fall away. "You're just a sad, desperate little man."

"NO!" Gangrel cried out. The courtroom stared at him. He beat his fists against the witness stand. "I'm not…!" he muttered. "I'm the king! I have the power! You'll die for crossing meeeeeeeeeeee!" With that, his head dropped onto the stand and his legs gave out as his fists continued to pound away.

Lloyd snapped his fingers again. "A disgrace to the end. We're done here. Bailiff, hurry up and get this refuse out of my sight. And judge, take control of your damn courtroom, already!"

"R-Right!" the judge started. "Ahem. I will consider these proceedings concluded, barring any further objections from either counsel."

"The defense has said all it needs to say," Robin reported.

"Likewise," said Lloyd. His arms were crossed.

"Very well. I will now pause to confer with the jury and, in a moment, I will render my verdict."

A wave of energy passed over the courtroom as Gangrel was led out, still muttering to himself. Robin's muscles eased up for what seemed to be the first time in the entire trial. He collapsed onto his desk, supported only by his hands.

"Capital work, LeBlanc," said Lloyd.

Robin managed to pick his head up. "I… really? Er, well, I couldn't have done it without you."

"No, you couldn't have," said Lloyd Reed, smiling. "Remember that for next time. But, that said, the victory is clearly yours."

"And Ephraim's, too," Robin added. "This only happened because we all came together in pursuit of the truth." He turned to his side. "And then there's my co-counsel."

"Shucks," said Anna, flipping her hair.

"It was an exciting case, Boss!" Morgan cheered. "I don't know if I've ever seen anything so thrilling!"

"Thrills are all well and good," Robin agreed, "but I'd rather get to the end of the suspense." He looked up at the judge.

"Whatever happens, you did Fado's legacy justice," Anna told him. "No one can deny that."

Robin's attention turned to the courtroom's doors as the bailiff re-entered.

"Ah, good timing, bailiff," said the judge. "We're ready to render the verdict. Please bring the defendant before the court."

The noise in the courtroom settled to a low murmur, and then complete silence as Renault was led to the stand.

"Renault LeBlanc, for the murder of Fado Verlaine, by the power vested in me by the jury, I and this court find you… Not Guilty!"

Excited cheers rang out through the courtroom. Robin nearly collapsed a second time, but he was held up by a pair of tight hugs.

"You did it, Boss!"

"Congrats, Boss."

Lloyd Reed smiled and shut his eyes. After a moment passed, he turned around and left the courtroom.

Renault, too, smiled broadly, and stumbled as if something had just been removed from his shoulders. He looked to the ceiling and thought of Fado.

Light and celebration filled the room, and then gradually exited it as the bailiff tried to push the non-litigants out the door along with the defense team. Robin struggled as Morgan remained attached to his hip.

The judge himself reclined in his seat and placed his gavel down on his bench. "My, what a case," he said with a smile.

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