A/N: In case you couldn't tell(which a lot of you likely can't), I was listening to Anything to Win when I wrote this. I unwittingly (no, really, it actually wasn't intentional) took a few lines from it and used them in this chapter, though at least I managed to avoid all but one verbatim reference. So to make up for this homage/plagiarism, I direct you to [pwmusical . com], sans spaces, to witness the glory that is Turnabout Musical for yourselves. Or you can just YouTube it.
Chapter Two
Eldest: Lesson Three
Mai 2002
Life as a Von Karma was far less glamorous than one might expect. Of course, thanks to the extensive staff of maids and manservants, household chores were no longer an issue. However, in their place were countless extra studies. Any free time left after the essentials—German, English, mathematics, history, and science—was taken up with pursuits such as French, Spanish, Italian (taught simultaneously, providing yet another challenge which Miles dared not fail), logic and critical thinking, the legal systems of Germany, England, and America(and a few others, but those were the primary ones), and a weekly assignment to spend several hours with Von Karma's legal aide, going over paperwork and trial proceedings. Frequently at dinner, what little conversation there was centred around the art of Prosecution.
It really did need to be capitalised, the way they went on about it—they being Manfred and his eldest daughter, Liesl.
At one point, Miles dared to say something to Von Karma that, well, wasn't terribly Von Karma of him.
"Sir, why am I training to become a prosecutor?" He'd been there about three months now. Apparently, to everyone else, it had been perfectly obvious that of course he would become a prosecutor, and Manfred told him so.
"Von Karmas are prosecutors," he said sternly. "To be a Von Karma is to be a prosecutor. We are doom upon lawbreakers, boy. That is our purpose. We achieve utter perfection in prosecution. We deliver justice to those who dare to cross us!"
Liesl listened attentively, a faint smile on her face, her eyes blazing at her father's words.
"My father was a defense attorney," Miles ventured. "I suppose I always expected to follow in his footsteps."
He knew Von Karma was strict. But he'd never even suspected the temper held behind those cold blue eyes. The prosecutor shot out of his chair, striking his left hand sharply against the polished, ancient wood of the dining table. The light from the fireplace threw his face into terrifying relief.
"Will you follow his footsteps to the grave, then?" he roared. Miles flinched.
Liesl froze.
"Foolish boy! Your father was killed by a man who might have become one of his precious 'clients'—one of those chained, shamefaced creatures hiding among his fellow men, parroting his lawyer's claims, squawking 'not guilty! Not guilty!' until their faces are blue from the need for breath! That is the path of the defense attorney!" Von Karma seemed to spit the words out. "Foolish, corrupt cowards!"
Miles's vision went white for an instant, hot rage surging, and he leapt to his feet.
"My father was not a coward!" he shrieked.
In an instant, he was sprawled on the floor, one hand going to the stinging bruise developing on his cheek. It felt like his face was on fire, and Von Karma stood over him, cane forgotten in his fury. As Miles watched, vision blurry with tears, the insane anger bled from Von Karma's eyes, and slowly the prosecutor reached into a pocket, retrieving a handkerchief that he pressed to the back of his right hand, which he'd used to strike Miles. He held that arm awkwardly; the motion had clearly jarred his injured shoulder.
Feeling the hard floor uncomfortably close and cold against his shoulder-blades and hips, his left shoulder and elbow aching and throbbing from how he'd fallen, Miles heard Von Karma's next words distantly—but nonetheless, he heard them.
"My dear boy," the prosecutor said, his deep rumbling voice sounding weary, almost sympathetic, "then why on Earth did he have that gun?"
Miles couldn't speak, could barely even breathe, and only part of it was the impact. He felt a rushing in his ears, his heart pounding in his chest.
"I have a simple argument for you, Edgeworth. If A were not true, than B could not be true. Therefore, if B is true, A must be true." Miles was new to Germany and to German, and Von Karma spoke his next words in English, burning them forever into Miles's memory.
"If your father were not a corrupt coward, he would not be dead. And Gregory Edgeworth is most definitely dead."
A thunderous snap of the fingers punctuated this brutal reminder of Lesson Two. A Von Karma is perfection.
Then, to Miles's surprise, Von Karma extended a hand—his left, this time—and took Miles's, bracing himself against a chair for balance and support as he half-lifted the boy to his feet. Miles stood there, frozen, as Manfred limped back towards his place at the table, reclaiming his cane.
And as Von Karma silently left the room, Miles slowly made his way to his chair, the third lesson planted in his numbed-feeling mind as securely as the seeds of terrible doubt which Manfred had sown.
Liesl's eyes were wide, horrified. She still hadn't moved. Then, in a quiet whisper of German: "He never hits."
She looked utterly shaken, and Miles briefly forgot his pain in his surprise.
"Papa never hits," she repeated shakily, her face pale and bloodless.
The next month, she was very quiet, and she never met her father's eyes.
The month after, she was gone. One day, she simply packed her bags, called a taxi, and left. She never returned to House von Karma. Upon hearing the news, Manfred went pale and horrified, just as she had that night. Then his face flushed with red, and he scowled.
"Don't speak foolishness," he snapped at the unfortunate servant who had had the dubious honour of delivering Liesl's farewell message. "There is no Liesl von Karma. I have but one daughter."
That morning, there had been a fine china tea set in Von Karma's study. That evening, two maids went at the shards in the carpet with tweezers and exchanged fearful looks.
Thus, in her absence, Liesl too learned the third lesson: Don't cross Von Karma.
Lesson One: Kindness inspires loyalty.
Lesson Two: A Von Karma is perfection.
Lesson Three: Don't cross Von Karma.