Chapter Text
Another batch of dough was dumped out of a bowl before Phoenix Wright rolled up his sleeves and began the work of kneading it through.
The morning couldn’t possibly get more ordinary. He had gotten up, eaten breakfast together with Maya, Espella and Patty, and after that, he’d resumed his usual spot behind the counter while Maya watched over the stone oven like a hawk, occasionally taking out the finished loaves of bread and selling them to interested customers.
No, that wasn’t quite right. This being Labyrinthia, everyone was interested.
That just came free with being the only bakery in town.
Labyrinthia was small and cozy, with colorful half-timbered houses and cobblestone streets. Phoenix, with his 5’9”, oftentimes felt the town was too small for him, with the ceilings often low and beds often quite short. But all things considered, he didn’t particularly mind.
Because the past five years he’d spent employed at Patty’s bakery had been probably the best he’d ever had.
He refused to elaborate on the fact that he didn’t remember many of them, despite him clearly knowing he was 26, no year younger or older.
Not that it mattered, really – being here was all he needed.
Especially because he was anything but alone. Maya Fey was both his coworker and someone he considered a little sister. He couldn’t recall how they had met, but that, too, didn’t matter. Their close relationship and joy and everything they shared with one another was of more importance, and Phoenix considered himself very lucky for having someone as cheerful as Maya in his life.
And then there were his boss, Patty Eclaire, and her surrogate daughter Espella Cantabella.
Patty was a plump, cheerful woman, and Phoenix harbored nothing but respect for her. She handled everything surrounding her bakery with fierce passion and enthusiasm, and Phoenix had learned first hand that if you were to claim one of her breads or otherwise baked goods simply “tasted well” instead of being the best bread you’d ever consumed, she would unleash all her fury and make you try the bread again to change your mind. And that, funnily enough, often worked, as every citizen in Labyrinthia spoke highly of the bakery, and regular customers had become a common phenomenon.
Espella was, in contrast to Patty, rather timid. She wore her blonde hair in innocent braids and walked around with a cape as if she were impersonating the Little Red Riding Hood. But if she was to warm up to you, she was very friendly, and opted to help anyone in need that she stumbled across. She wasn’t at the bakery most of the time, but rather stayed in her room on the second floor of the building, engaging in creative endeavors or playing with her black cat, Eve.
Phoenix had grown to be very fond of both of them. Every day, he was grateful for all the baking tips and tricks Patty had shared with him, installing the confidence that if he wanted to, he could run this bakery on his own.
But he didn’t want to. After all, it wouldn’t be the same without his cherished friends.
“Nick,” Maya interrupted his train of thought, arms crossed over her apron. Phoenix could see her fingers were stained with flour, “What are you doing? Remember, the boss told us not to hold back with that dough!”
“Uh, right,” Phoenix said, running a hand through his black, spiky hair, “Sorry, I must’ve zoned out.”
“As you always do,” Maya teased, rolling her eyes, “But I guess you get your job done regardless, so I can’t be mad, really.”
“It’s not you being mad I’m worried about,” Phoenix stated, once again rolling up his sleeves to avoid sprinkling the blue fabric with too much flour. He wasn’t sure whether what he was wearing counted as proper attire for bakers, but then again, he had owned that suit for his whole life, and nobody had ever complained. At least, just like his coworker, he protected his clothes with an apron. Espella had embroidered a sunflower on its pocket, and the fact alone made up for him not being able to display that blue suit of his.
“How many loaves do we have?,” Patty shouted from the next room, just having finished cleaning the breakfast table.
“Around 15 for now, Boss!,” Maya shouted back, patting one of the cooling breads to gauge its temperature. Judging by her drawing her hand back the moment her skin came into contact with the crust, she wasn’t happy with it just yet.
“That’s wonderful! Keep at it, you two,” came the reply. Phoenix took that as a sign to finally begin kneading – or rather punching – the dough to get it to its desired consistency, when suddenly-
“Hello, Phoenix! Hello, Maya!”
The sweet, familiar voice caused the man to look up, wiping the scattered beads of sweat from his forehead. “Hi, Espella! Back from town?”
She nodded. “Yes! And I brought some new frie-”
Phoenix nearly dropped the bread he was holding, close to choking on his saliva.
Who knew Espella could make friends with such mesmerizing gray-blue eyes, brown curls sticking out under an elegant, dark top hat? Ones that wore coats and pants like straight out of a Sherlock Holmes adaptation, and politely said “Good Day,” in a voice that he could listen to for hours and hours on end?
Oh, and there was a young boy next to the man, too.
Phoenix slammed his desk as if to slam away these sudden thoughts. “Welcome!”
✦•······················•✦•······················•✦
It had been a really, really dubious week.
After chasing witches at Tower Bridge and discovering secret passages with the aim to help out Espella Cantabella, a friend of Professor Hershel Layton’s former student Carmine Accidenti, the professor and his apprentice Luke Triton had been supposedly sucked into a book titled “Historia Labyrinthia”. At the very least, this is what it had looked like.
They’d come to their senses in a wagon, being dragged along a bumpy road. Winding up in what appeared to be some sort of forest had come as a surprise, and they’d spent the next few days close to the stable their horses had been left at.
Naturally, they’d asked the wagon driver what this was all about. The only answer they’d received had been “you cannot go into town yet”, and to the word, they’d been denied access whenever they had attempted to walk through the gate carved into the huge stone wall before them.
Espella? Nowhere to be seen. They could only hope she’d also landed here instead of more trouble; the young woman had seemed frazzled enough as it was.
When they finally had been allowed in, their first thought was that they’d somehow traveled through time.
The streets looked like something straight out of a history book. Little houses, cobblestone streets, torches instead of street lanterns. People were wearing gowns that appeared authentic to maybe the 13th, 14th century, and it seemed their lifestyle followed the same trend.
They’d learned of a man called the Storyteller, someone who allegedly wrote stories and decided on the future of every citizen of this town, had made themselves fugitives due to their “strange” behavior that was unfamiliar for locals, and bumped into a thankfully safe and whole Espella, who’d then led them to the bakery she lived in.
And now here they were – the smell of fresh bread penetrating their nostrils, and the black-haired baker was pointing at them with a fierce look in his eyes.
“Welcome! Our bakery only uses the finest ingredients! Upper-crust goods for mot much dough!”
Luke shot his mentor a look. What was he saying?
“Yes, the bakers are talented indeed,” Hershel commented, pulling his hat into his face to protect his eyes from the flour that was being swirled into the air, “Talented...and highly enthusiastic, it seems.”
With a whim, Phoenix went back to kneading, the sound of him slamming the desk echoing trough the entire room.
“He’s kneading the dough pretty hard, isn’t he?,” Luke mused, a hand to his light blue newsboy cap.
“I would rather liken the motion to “pounding”, myself,” Hershel agreed. Maya widened her eyes in the back of the bakery.
“Where’s Aunt Patty?,” Espella asked.
“The Boss?,” Maya said, “She was getting ready to go to the market. Guess she just left. Sorry about Nick here, by the way. He didn’t realize you weren’t customers.”
“Not at all,” Hershel brushed her off, “There’s nothing wrong with such sincere dedication to one’s job.”
“Mr Wright, Maya, meet my friends: Mr Layton and Luke,” Espella introduced them.
“A pleasure,” Hershel said, and there they were, the endearing little wrinkles under his eyes as he smiled, “”My name is Hershel Layton.”
“And I’m Luke Triton!,” Luke added, “Nice to meet you!” He stuck out a hand.
Maya took it with delight, shaking it. “I’m Maya Fey! And this is Nick, my assistant baker.”
“Phoenix Wright, pleased to meet you,” the black-haired baker said, as if having that sentence engraved in his mind. A second later, he shot a startled glare at Maya. “Wait, how come I’m the assistant?!”
Neither Hershel nor Luke seemed to pay the comment any mind. “Phoenix Wright and Maya Fey...somehow not quite the kind of names I’d expect to hear around here,” the professor thought aloud.
He dared to hope. Hope that maybe he and Luke weren’t the only ones to end up here by accident.
But maybe that was a bit too much to assume simply based on names.
It could never hurt to ask, right? “Have you both been working here long?”
Maya nodded, clapping her hands in excitement. “Yup! Must be going on five years now. Isn’t that right, Espella?”
A shame.
“Ah...yes, I suppose it must be,” the blonde girl confirmed, and the hesitation didn’t go over Hershel’s head.
“Say, you know what?,” Maya said, “Seeing as you’re both friends of Espella, I think we can give you guys a little something. On the house, of course!”
Luke’s face immediately lit up. “Wow, really?”
“Sure, why not?,” Phoenix agreed, eyes big and friendly, “I actually just took some freshly baked walnut bread out of the oven, so..”
“So that’s what that great smell is!,” Luke exclaimed, “I bet it’s delicious!”
“If you think the scent is good, you should try tasting it,” Maya told him, “You too, Mr Layton! It’s so good, it’ll knock your hat right off!”
“Haha, I’d be delighted to,” Hershel said, fingers wandering to the brim of said hat. Despite the undeniably fantastic taste of the walnut bread, Hershel would prefer his hat stayed on. “That’s most kind of you.”
“Yay, that’s that then! Go ahead and help yourselves!”
Phoenix checked the loaf’s temperature and, after making sure it wasn’t scorching hot anymore, he cut it into careful slices, handing both the professor and Luke one of them.
Hershel wasn’t sure why he felt as if was being struck by lightning when their fingers brushed.
“Our bakery only uses the finest walnuts! You’ll go nuts for our walnut bread!,” the baker continued yelling, and Luke couldn’t help but laugh at the pun, almost spilling some chewed up bread onto the floor, for what he earned a slightly scolding glance from his mentor.
Maya groaned, also scolding her “assistant.” “How many times do I gotta tell you, Nick?! You’re supposed to say “here’s your order”!”
“Oh, uhh, yeah,” Phoenix said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, “That’s right, I forgot. I don’t know why, but I just get the urge to point and shout like that sometimes…”
Another groan. “Bad Nick! Bad!,” Maya admonished him as if he were some sort of dog, “You can’t keep shouting at the customers like that. The boss’ll be all over you like butter on toast!”
It was obvious that this was a thought Phoenix Wright would rather not entertain. “Ugh...”
“Well, I’m gonna show Mr Layton and Luke the town!,” Espella announced, “They gotta know where to see the parade when it’s on in two days!”
Hershel and Luke exchanged puzzled glances. “Parade?”
✦•······················•✦•······················•✦
They met Aunt Patty over dinner.
After feeding themselves with mere apples and carrots for the past few days (because that’s what horses usually ate, and the person so adamant not to let them into town had failed to produce anything else), the bread, roasted chicken and vegetable stew that the woman had set onto the table seemed like the best meal they’d ever eat.
Luke was quarreling with Maya over the last piece of goat cheese that Patty had given them as a first course as Espella walked around, filling their plates despite Hershel insisting that he was perfectly capable of doing so himself. It was terribly unlike for a gentleman to let a young lady handle such work for him, after all.
Patty joined them, sitting next to her surrogate daughter as they dug in.
“Mmh, this is heavenly,” Maya complimented, cheeks stuffed.
“Haha, thank you, my dear!,” Patty said, beaming with pride. “It’s been a long time since we had guests, and I’m only too thrilled to be able to spoil them!”
“I agree with Miss Maya, this is really good!,” Luke chimed in, “Thank you, Miss Patty!”
“Oh, what a polite little lad you are,” the woman chuckled, “I appreciate the sentiment. Your mentor must have taught you well.”
At the mention of him, Hershel felt a slight blush creeping up his face. He would never get used to people openly praising him, he didn’t think. “I certainly try, madam.”
He took the napkin and carefully dabbed at the corners of his mouth, ridding himself of even the smallest stains. He then proceeded to fold it before placing it back next to his plate, ready for later use.
Phoenix had never seen such a chivalrous man before.
Well, maybe this gray-haired guy that he remembered being his friend despite not ever having seen him around town was a bit similar, but he was definitely more posh about it than Hershel was.
The accomplishment of that was a miracle in itself.
“Ah, Miss Eclaire,” Layton suddenly spoke up, “I wanted to ask whether you had any knowledge of the parades held in this town?”
Patty blinked, clearly taken off guard. “You mean to tell me you haven’t attended one yet?”
The professor pulled his hat further into his eyes. “Ah, no, I’m afraid not. You see, Luke and I are not from here. We’re...traveling, so to speak.”
“Travelers? Oh, that’s even better than just regular guests! My Espella is making friends with people from outside, how marvelous!”
Luke leaned over to whisper to Hershel, “She mentioned outside. The woman we met in the wagon was telling us “outside” doesn’t exist, wasn’t she?”
Hershel put a hand to his chin, considering what his apprentice had just said. “You’re right, Luke. But at least this confirms we have not completely lost our minds like some of the town’s guards believe.”
Patty set down her fork. “Well, in that case, allow me to tell you all I know. The Storyteller – you do know of the Storyteller?”
Luke and Layton nodded.
“Right. So, the Storyteller writes our stories. Every month, each citizen of Labyrinthia visits his parade to receive a copy of the story that will determine out fate for the rest of the month. They are usually held on the last week before we turn the calendar, so in this case, April 23rd. The story comes into effect when May starts, but our dear creator likes to be prepared, which is more than what can be said of most people these days.”
“He writes your story?,” Luke asked, despite having known that piece of information for a while by now.
“Yes,” Espella confirmed, “Everything he writes comes true. That’s how...how we built Labyrinthia, and why it exists as it does.”
“Fascinating,” Hershel hummed, hand still at his chin. “And the parades are held for the distribution of said story, you said?”
“It’s truly a spectacle!,” Patty said, but the professor couldn’t help but pick up on the slight sarcasm clouding her tone.
Something was certainly out of order with how things worked in this town…
“The next one is in two days,” Espella informed them, “Just as Aunt Patty said. You should come!”
Luke and Layton exchanged a look before the professor nodded. “Yes, I believe we will.”
✦•······················•✦•······················•✦
Luke was set up in a room with the professor, and the minute the sun had set and the sky was completely darkened, he trotted upstairs to flop down onto the mattress and pass out.
Layton, meanwhile, was down in the bakery together with Patty and Phoenix. The woman, ever the generous host, has fixed them a cup of tea (they had tea in this medieval town?), and Phoenix, albeit his accent seeming American to Hershel, downed the entire mug.
Maybe it was just the accent that made the professor suspect the US, but the tea would leave him speculating what part of Britain the other man was from for the rest of the evening.
Again, he was basing this on the assumption that Phoenix and Maya were, in fact, not Labyrinthian...
“This is certainly a lovely place,” the professor commented, shooing his thoughts away for now. They were making his brain hurt.
Phoenix turned his head toward him. “Yeah, you think so? I like it too. It’s home.”
Layton lead his own mug back to his lips, his eyes just now meeting Phoenix’s. The moonlight shining from the window painted the baker’s face a pretty light blue, the color reflecting in his eyes.
Hershel forgot how to think.
Thank goodness that blackout only lasted for two seconds maximum.
“Miss Fey mentioned you’ve been working here for five years already. Is that correct?,” Layton decided to ask, as if to confirm that these two were indeed individuals from this town. Albeit, no matter what the reply would be, Hershel’s intuition – which very rarely failed him – told him that there was more to them than they were letting on, or even knew themselves.
“That sounds about right,” Phoenix replied, but then he paused. “I think. Huh, now that we’re talking about it, I actually have no idea.”
The hope surfaced again.
Hershel brought his mug to his lips once more, emptying it fully. “Hmm.”
Phoenix wasn’t sure why he stared.
“I’m gonna open a window,” Patty announced, hands against her hips. “It’s merely April, and yet, its already so warm these days!”
“Yeah, we haven’t seen rain in a while,” Phoenix muttered, “Can’t be good for the crops.”
“No, that isn’t good, you’re completely correct,” Patty said. One of the bakery’s windows was now fully open, allowing the night breeze to escape through, tousling Hershel’s curls, and the man briefly removed his hat to bring them into a proper position before putting it back on.
Phoenix felt the temperature in the room rise even further, and the open window did nothing to combat it.
“So what do you do, Mr Layton?,” Patty asked, a cheerful tone to her voice, “Also a baker?”
“Oh, haha, I’m afraid not,” Layton replied, “I’m a professor.” Wait, did that job even exist in medieval times?
Presumably not.
“I, ah, teach students. About arche-”
No, that probably wasn’t a term either.
“About history.”
The woman nodded, signaling that she’d listened. “Teaching, huh? Well, that’s admirable! I’m sure you’re doing a formidable job! Maybe I can send Espella to your school.”
“Oh, I’m afraid that would be difficult. The facility where I teach is rather far away from these grounds. I am a visitor, after all.”
“Then you must at least try all of our bread before you go!”
“Haha, I shall do my best, Miss Eclaire,” Hershel said.
The silence that followed added to the tranquility, and for the first time since getting involved in his case, Hershel allowed himself to breathe. He involuntarily sank deeper into the cushions of the sofa he was sitting on, resting his eyes for what he promised himself would be a mere moment.
That promise was forgotten when he drifted off, the day’s events catching up to him. Maybe this was also a side effect of the soothing chamomile tea he’d just had.
Patty gently took the empty mug from his hands. “Carry our guest to the bedroom, will you, Phoenix?”
The baker’s head snapped around. “Who, me?!”
“Yes. After all, you’re stronger than me,” she tutted, keeping her voice down not to disturb the sleeping professor.
“That might be, but-”
Ugh.
Leave it to fate to make sure he got into humiliating situations on a regular basis.
If the professor found out (and were less polite), he’d have his head.
Phoenix just had to hope that he’d never find out.
He reached out and scooped the other man into his arms, shifting slightly so he wouldn’t fall. If there was anything more humiliating than the professor finding out he’d carried him into bed, it’s Phoenix carrying him into bed and failing. The risk of that happening was fairly low, considering the fact that Layton was fairly light, but the black-haired man didn’t wish to take any chances.
Avoiding the creaky steps on the staircase, Phoenix trotted upstairs, gently prying open the door to Hershel’s and Luke’s room. He tiptoed around the sleeping child before setting Hershel down on the mattress.
The internal debate on whether or not he should pull up the covers lasted mere seconds, and he grabbed a hold on the sheets before slowly placing them over Layton’s sleeping form.
The last thing he wanted was for Hershel to startle awake and see Phoenix’s silhouette hovering in the dark.
Sounded like something out of a horror story.
With one last glance at the professor, Phoenix exited the room, closed the door behind him and retreated to his own sleeping quarters, relieved that Maya was also sound asleep.
Because her finding out about what just happened would, knowing her, be even worse than letting Layton in on it.
✦•······················•✦•······················•✦
“I don’t think we’ve actually ever been to one of these,” Maya mused as the five of them trotted down the empty streets. It was safe to assume most Labyrinthians were already in the main square, gathered to bear witness to their creator.
Espella blinked at them, visible shock in her expression. “Really, Maya? But...you’ve lived here for five years! How could that be possible if you haven’t even read a single story?”
“Beats me,” the young woman shrugged, shoving a piece of bread with jam into her mouth before licking her fingers, fond of the strawberry flavor.
“I think I remember reading a story?,” Phoenix thought aloud, “But I’m not really sure, so I’m with you there, Maya.”
“That’s certainly odd,” Hershel commented, “It seems as if the parades and the stories play a rather significant role in this town and its society. How have you managed to avoid that for half a decade?”
His question remained unanswered as the group finally reached what was supposed to be a large main square. Now, with the entirety of the population present, it seemed to have shrunk ten sizes, and they barely found a spot to actually have some sort of view on the proceedings.
Maya impatiently shifted her weight from her heels to her toes. “When is it startiiiing?,” she whined, “I can’t wait that long!”
“Seems like the crowd is with you there, Maya,” Phoenix grumbled. Someday, his assistant baker was going to keel over from all that bouncing. He would say he’d be too annoyed to catch her, but he knew that deep in his heart, he’d be unable to let her fall.
“Just a few more moments,” Espella assured them.
For some reason, she was the only one not actively anticipating the Storyteller’s appearance.
Layton had initially attributed it to the fact that, having grown up here, she’s seen plenty of these parades, but the fact that she sought to hide behind them didn’t seem to be merely an act of generosity to grant them better vision.
He didn’t have the chance to ponder it much longer as fanfares sounded in the distance, and the crowd began to cheer. Honestly, it was hard to tell what was louder – the music or the chanting.
Either way, it created quite the atmosphere.
“There he comes!,” Maya squealed, pointing at a troupe of knights that walked around the corner. Their heavy armor added to the already deafening noise as they marched in perfect sync, their weapons raised in demonstration of power. Behind them, right in front of a massive parade wagon, was a knight on a horse. In addition to the armor, this one had bushy feathers attached to his helmet, as well as a long, silky, green cloak. Hershel presumed this was to highlight his importance – perhaps he was their leader of some sort.
On the parade wagon, more precisely on the platform that extended it, stood a woman with a stern gaze, majestic purple hair and a burgundy uniform, coupled with a cloak of the same shade. When she spotted Hershel and Luke in the crowd, her eyebrows furrowed. Phoenix, meanwhile, couldn’t help but feel like he had seen her somewhere before.
But nobody was there for the knights, their leader or even this seemingly high-ranked woman; no. They were cheering for the man riding in the throne behind her, the canopy shielding him from the sun.
The sun rays that did manage to infiltrate the contraption emphasized his bony face, a curved, fully mustache on his lips. Another striking feature was the mask that only covered his left eye, the green jewel darting around as he stood up, a thick robe covering his body. The large brooch in shape of a sun shimmered in the daylight as he extended his arms, large sleeves almost reaching the floor as tons and tons of pieces of parchment came raining down on the citizens of Labyrinthia, eager hands snatching the papers mid-flight to consume the next piece of literature produced by their beloved leader.
“So that’s the Storyteller!,” Luke gasped.
“I always wondered what he looks like, and I wasn’t disappointed! Just like I imagined our creator to be!,” Maya said, clapping her hands in excitement.
Phoenix bent down to pick up one of the fallen pieces of parchment. “Well, let’s see what the people are so crazy about, shall we?”
The fearsome witch moved deeper into the moonlit wood,
casting a deadly shadow as she passed between the trees.
And when the two companions stepped into the darkness of the wood,
they were drawn into her magic fire, and their lives were consumed in its flames.
Maya’s face had paled a few shades. “Does that mean that- that-”
“I think it does,” Phoenix speculated, skimming over the written words once again. “It looks like someone’s gonna die.”
✦•······················•✦•······················•✦
Being bakers was a demanding job, and Phoenix and Maya were, regrettably, not able to join them for the next few days. Phoenix cursed internally every time he watched Layton disappear through the bakery’s doors – too badly did he want to stroll behind him, listen to him theorize and explain stuff to is little apprentice, maybe, to borrow Maya’s phrasing from when they’d first met the professor, “knock his hat off his head” to ruffle those soft, silky curls in a friendly manner.
What an odd thing to think.
Espella introduced her two English friends to her cat, Eve, who roamed Labyrinthia’s streets by herself most of the time. She was a very sweet animal with big eyes and fur as black as the night sky, and Luke took great pride in the fact that she was letting him pet her.
Hershel was, for one thing, still unsure what exactly they were looking for.
His first priority was to get to the bottom of the “witches” they’d seen in London. Goodness, almost three weeks had passed since then, and he flinched at the thought. Thank goodness his students were on Easter leave, and he could afford the few missed lectures, but if they didn't find any important clues within the next couple of days, he might get in serious trouble with Dean Delmona.
Witches themselves were a quite important part of Labyrinthia’s culture, however. Not in the good way, obviously – people feared them, very much so. They’d observed citizens nailing their windows shut following the parade, convinced that the murder the story spoke of would be committed by such a witch.
Truthfully, Hershel didn’t know whether or not to believe the same. The way the deed was said to be done seemed certainly to be like something out of a fantasy story, with the fire and all. But maybe someone would simply commit arson, and no witchcraft was involved at all.
“Stories about the witches are no doubt a source of considerable fear in this town,” he thought aloud, inspecting the embroideries on the curtains in Espella’s room.
“Yes,” Espella confirmed, “But this is why we have the inquisition. Their primary objective is to capture witches and protect the people of the town.”
Luke stood up from where he’d been keeling down, and Eve wailed behind him, clearly upset that the boy had stopped cradling her head. “Do you mean those knights?,” he inquired.
“I believe so. You don’t suppose they were so wary of us because they suspected us witches, do you?,” Hershel said.
That got a little chuckle out of Espella. “Oh, no, Mr Layton. Only females are considered witches.”
Luke’s eyes widened. “Wait, any girl setting foot in this town is instantly dubbed a witch?”
She shook her head. “No. But once she’s suspected of being capable of using magic, the inquisition will keep a close eye on her.”
How truly frightening, Hershel figured. He could only hope Espella had never fallen under suspicion of that sort.
Eve trotted down the stairs into the bakery’s main area where Phoenix was again busy with pounding the dough, nearly stumbling over the cat as she rushed through his legs to receive her daily lunch from Patty. Luke, Layton and Espella followed close behind.
They needed to dig deeper if they were to find any answers at all.
“Do you have some sort of library around here?,” Hershel asked Espella, hand stroking his chin in thought.
“A library, you say?,” the young woman repeated, twirling the end of her right braid, “We have the so-called Great Archive. All of the Storyteller’s stories are stored inside, but I'm sure they have plenty of other books, too. I think we should try asking there!”
Layton nodded. “A place called “Great Archive” does indeed sound promising. Luke, you're free to accompany me, of course—unless you'd like to stay here with Miss Fey and Mr Wright.”
Luke jumped up. “No, of course I'm coming with you, Professor!”
“Uhm, actually,” Phoenix chimed in, “Would you mind if we came along, too? Pretty sure we're on break right now, and-”
“You're not officially on break,” Patty, who had been listening with half an ear, said with a smile, “But the two of you have done formidable work today, and I will allow you.”
“Yay! Thanks, Boss!,” Maya cheered, untying her apron before draping it over one of the chairs’ back.
Luke and Layton exchanged a sympathetic glance. It seemed that, while Patty was most certainly a very kind and fair boss, the two bakers still didn't get the luxury of much free time. Or maybe it was that they simply didn't feel like going anywhere much.
“Well, then,” Hershel said, “Lead the way, Ms Cantabella.”
“Please, Mr Layton,” she said with a giggle, “There's no need to be this proper!”
“Ah, but a gentleman must be polite towards his associates,” Hershel simply deflected with a smile of his own.
There was no need to let her know that he simply had a difficult time connecting with other people, especially after all of the losses he'd endured.
That was most certainly a tale for another time.
If any time at all.
Espella did as asked, the group following her through Labyrinthia’s charming cobblestone streets. Shops were open at this time of day, and at every stand, people could be heard arguing with the sellers for lower prices. One woman threw a tomato at a man who clearly demanded it for nothing but scraps.
Amusing.
The Great Archive, however, wasn’t hard to miss.
It was a large building consisting of two towers and a connecting middle. The most striking feature was the way it was weirdly bent towards the middle, adding a flair of mystery to it that screamed that it was out of this world.
Out of the normal world, that is.
Hershel and Luke hadn’t come to a conclusion yet when it came to what Labyrinthia really was and why it existed. Luke had jokingly suggested that they’d time-traveled, and while Layton had wanted to write the suggestion off the moment it came up, he found himself hesitant to do so.
After all they’d seen, he’d honestly believe everything.
“Whoa,” Phoenix whistled, “That’s the Great Archive?”
“I take I you’ve never been there?,” Hershel asked, a little surprised. Knowing himself, he’d spend every free afternoon at this archive if he got the chance.
“The archive is not really a space for commoners,” Espella explained, “It is said to store all the stories, yes, but people rarely get interested in the tales that have already passed. It’s an archive, as said in the name, and more a storage facility than anything.”
“Ah, I suppose that does make sense,” Hershel said, “Thank you, Ms Cantabella.”
“Ooooh, you think I could find a story that mentions me?,” Maya excitedly asked.
Espella chuckled. “I’m sure you could, Maya! After all, you’ve worked here for five years, there’s bound to be something about you!”
“Even though we just attended a parade for the first time like, five days ago?,” Phoenix joked, but to his chagrin, nobody paid attention.
“I’m gonna search through every shelf ‘till I find something, mark my words.”
“Isn’t that boring?,” Phoenix thought aloud, “After all, the stories have already taken place, and if there was truly something memorable about us, we would have remembered it ourselves.”
“Well, maybe,” Maya relented, “However, that won’t stop me! I’ll take anything, even if it’s just something along the lines of “the night from the 3rd to the 4th of August, Maya Fey went to drink a glass of water at 3 in the morning due to the unbearable heat cruising through the Labyrinthian alleyways.””
Now it was on Luke to giggle. “That does sound kinda boring, Miss Maya.”
Soon enough, they reached the massive entrance gates. Espella carefully pushed them open – revealing a hall beyond their imagination.
The ceiling seemed to go up to the clouds, and the best part? Every wall was completely covered in full bookshelves reaching just as high. Hershel felt his fingers twitching with excitement, the urge to bury his nose in these pages as strong as ever.
“Excuse me?,” a female voice said, tearing the professor out of his dreams.
Hershel blinked to see a young woman with light purple ponytails twisted into curls, pushing her glasses up so they wouldn’t slide off her nose. Her black dress made her slightly more intimidating than her serious facial expression already did.
“May I ask you who you are, and how I may help you?”
“Good day,” Hershel said, and again, just like the first time around those few days ago, Phoenix knew he’d be able to hear that voice forever, “My name is Professor Hershel Layton, and these are my associates Luke Triton, Espella Cantabella, Phoenix Wright, and Maya Fey. If it is permitted, and if your collection contains a book of that kind, we wish to take a look at a book that explains this town’s magic system.”
The woman adjusted her glasses once more, squinting. “The Grand Grimoire, you say? Hmph. A rather odd request.”
“That- well, that was to be expected,” Layton said. What was the Grand Grimoire?!
“Ah, that’s right!,” Espella suddenly remembered, “I’ve heard of it before, albeit only from stories my- Patty used to tell me, as well as some of the townsfolk. It’s the book containing all magic spells and what they do!”
“That does sound kinda useful in our case,” Phoenix remarked.
Hershel nodded in agreement. “Yes, it does indeed.”
“Usually, only inquisitors, High Inquisitor Darklaw and the Storyteller are permitted to view it,” the woman, presumably the one in charge of this establishment. “But first of all, excuse my manners. My name is Ridelle Mystere, and I run the Great Archive. I hope you can forgive my rather serious attitude, for I take great care of who enters this building and what books they touch.”
“Oh, not at all,” Hershel assured her, “It is a noble task.”
“About the Grand Grimoire,” Ridelle continued, “I suppose I could make an exception for a gentleman of your caliber. But only if you can prove how much you have-” She pointed at her head. “Up there!”
✦•······················•✦•······················•✦
Phoenix had often heard from customers as well as passerbys that the inquisitors, the bringers of justice in this town, were the most intelligent and wise of all. The reason why only them were permitted access to the Grand Grimoire was no doubt that very fact. He wasn’t surprised that Ridelle Mystere wanted to prove their credibility before even allowing them anywhere near the book, and if it was Phoenix in Layton’s place, he would have said “goodbye” and walked backwards out the gate.
But Professor Hershel Layton appeared quite confident in his ability to master the challenge that Ridelle had up her sleeve.
“This trial has been used in the past to test the ability of aspiring inquisitors,” the archive’s curator explained, “If you are able to clear it, then I will acknowledge that your wisdom matches that of an inquisitor, and let you take a look at that book.”
“Splendid,” Hershel said, and the sheer amount of conviction in his tone sent a chill down Phoenix’s spine, “Then, by all means, do begin.”
Ridelle appeared to share his opinion concerning Layton. “You certainly have some confidence. Let’s see if you can live up to it.” She scoffed. “Do you really think you can pass this trial, at which so many hopefuls have stumbled? If you wish to back out, this is your last chance.”
“Thank you for the generous opportunity, but rest assured, I do not plan on giving up.”
“Hmph. Then, see what you can do with this!”
Ridelle posed Layton a riddle that, quite frankly, made Phoenix’s head spin. There was no way in hell that he would have kept up with all that if he’d been the one in Hershel’s shoes, and boy, was he glad Hershel hadn’t passed down his position. He inwardly apologized for his stupidity, eyes fixated on the man before him.
Who solved the puzzle without even an ounce of effort.
Beads of sweat formed on Ridelle’s forehead. “How can this be? That hardly seemed a challenge for you. Who are you, and how did you do that so effortlessly?!”
Hershel, in his signature gesture, tipped his hat. “More importantly than who I am, there is one thing of which I am certain, and that is that every puzzle has an answer.”
Maya and Espella gasped in awe at these words of wisdom.
“So, do I qualify?,” Layton asked.
“No so fast!,” Ridelle fired back. Clearly, she was rather outraged about the fact that a stranger in a top hat was able to knock her little riddle out within minutes.
Though, if he were her, Phoenix wouldn’t have doubted Layton’s wisdom for a second. Especially after that motto he’d dropped, like, wow.
“Do you really believe that my permission can be obtained as easily as that?,” Ridelle continued, “That was no more than a preliminary trial, to separate the wheat from the chaff. Now for the real trial. Even a man of your kind should find this challenging – this trial will have your eyes rolling and your head spinning!”
A young man trotted by, carrying a large stack of books in his arms. Phoenix flinched at the way they threatened to fall to the side, and he was already about to jump and catch them. “Miss Mystere, I’ve never seen you get this excited!”
“Silence!,” Ridelle shot him down, and he nearly stumbled over his own feet. Now Phoenix was definitely about to help with those swaying books. “Be quiet, Dewey!”
“Ack! Sorry!”
Hershel fought to get back to the matter at hand, or the poor young man would seriously cause some ruckus with those books of his. “I assume it’s safe to predict that this will not be quite so simple.”
“Indeed. This will put an end to that overconfidence! Prepare to lose your mind in this mind-bending puzzle!”
Once again, Phoenix could barely keep up with the description. Maya and Espella had dug their fingers into each other’s clothes, anxious about how the professor would fare. Luke simply had his arms crossed, a satisfied smile on his face. Hershel got to work in an instant.
And Phoenix was oddly calm.
He was absolutely certain that Hershel could do this.
And he did.
Ridelle was out of it with both shock and something else that neither was sure whether it was anger or not. “H-how? My mind-bending puzzle! You didn’t- you didn’t lose your mind! On the contrary, you found the solution! It’s- that’s just impossible!” Her glasses slid from her nose and she quickly caught them with her slightly trembling fingers. “Oh! My glasses! Let me put them on, just- just a moment!”
The group of five exchanged confused looks, and the way Hershel shrugged his shoulders almost made Phoenix snort with laughter.
Ridelle cleared her throat, her glasses now back on her face. “Ahem. That’s better. I apologize, for a moment there, I lost my composure. But to see my trial cleared like that...It seems I underestimated you, sir.”
“It was a fascinating puzzle,” Hershel said, “No less than I’d expect from the curator of the Great Archive.”
“All right. A promise is a promise,” Ridelle relented, “I hereby grant you and your companions your permission. The special viewing room containing the Grand Grimoire is located on the first floor. As I’m sure you already gathered, that book is of unparalleled importance. By no means may it be treated with anything but the utmost care.”
“Of course, Miss Mystere. Thank you for granting us permission.”
“Well then, shall we proceed to the special viewing room? I shall have to accompany you, since he room is locked.”
Hershel nodded, and the group followed Ridelle, her heeled boots clicking with every step.
Luke was the first to break the silence as they ascended the stairs. “You did it, Professor! You cleared both trails in one fell swoop!”
Espella nodded in agreement. “That was amazing, Mr Layton! It’s well known that Miss Mystere is an avid collector of riddles. And I’ve heard that they’re always very difficult to solve!”
Layton only smiled politely, a slightly nervous edge to it, and Phoenix felt a pang in his chest. Damn, it seemed that the professor had a similar difficult time when it came to accepting compliments, much like he himself.
Maybe he’d get a reaction out of him if he joined in. “You’re really something, Professor. That was, uhm-”
Where did his words go?
“That was really great. Uhm, yeah.”
Maya snickered.
Hershel’s smile widened. “Why, thank you, Mr Wright. Don’t mention it.”
Phoenix wasn’t sure whether he considered this a success or not, but he’d leave it be for now.
They reached their destination – a door on the first floor that Ridelle unlocked with great precision. She stepped aside to let them inside, and the room was…
Nearly empty.
Well, no, that wasn’t entirely correct. Yes, it was nearly empty in comparison to the remainder of the library, considering that in contrast, it didn’t have bookshelves reaching up to the ceiling, But the walls weren’t blank; decorated with pictures and candles, and even some scattered books.
But what they were looking for was displayed for each and ever one of them to admire, for on a platform in the center of the room lay a thick, open book.
“That must be the Grand Grimoire,” Layton breathed.
Ridelle cleared her throat again. “This is the special viewing room. I’m sure a gentleman such as yourself will understand, but seeing as this is a special room not open to the general public, I must insist you all be on your best behavior.”
“Of course,” Hershel replied, and the rest of the group nodded in clear agreement.
The professor looked around, but it seemed as if everyone else’s feet were glued to the ground. That meant it was up to him to actually flip through it – not that he minded, really.
Luke, ever the loyal apprentice, followed closely, standing on his tiptoes to look at the written text. “This is incredible! It’s crammed with information about magic.”
“People say it’s the magic used by the witches,” Espella said.
“If that's so, then the magic we saw in London must be in here somewhere too!,” Luke said, tugging Layton’s sleeve.
“That may well be, Luke. A tome as thick as this must surely contain such information,” Hershel concurred.
“Looks like finding it is a bit daunting, though,” Phoenix commented, observing the professor go through the absurd amount of pages in vain.
Maya was not far behind, suddenly pointing at one of the pages. “Huh, what’s this? This page is different from the others!”
“Hm?,” Layton echoed, returning to said page. “Indeed, you appear to be correct, Miss Fey.”
“This page isn’t about magic at all!,” Espella realized.
Luke shifted on his feet. “Something about it makes me feel uneasy…”
“It looks like it’s addressed to someone,” Phoenix said, hands stuffed into the pocket of his baker’s apron. It was then as he looked at the man that Hershel realized the right pocket had a sunflower embroidered into it.
Cute.
“You mean like a message?,” Maya asked, jumping up and down to see over Phoenix’s shoulder, earning herself a “shhh!” from Ridelle, who was still lingering nearby to close the door once they left.
“Let’s read it, shall we?,” Hershel said, carefully placing his finger under the letters.
From a long time ago, the ancient flame has been locked, in an infinite vault of books.
Waiting for the awakening, when the sun and moon, watching over the sage, swap places to show their true form.
The door to the past will open. Once a person of perspicacity has fulfilled the challenge, the door will open. Until then I will wait, for the time of the awakening.
“Great,” Phoenix said, “Another riddle. Or am I reading this wrong?”
The words the professor had just read aloud had caught Ridelle’s attention, and within a second, she was at their side, attempting to glance at the page herself. “How can this be? How did something like this get into the Grand Grimoire? It’s just not possible, I- I can’t understand it. No one entered the special viewing room before you came here, and whenever someone enters the room, I always accompany them in this way.”
“So, that means the page must have changed at some point,” Espella concluded. “Doesn’t it?”
“Come on, could that really be possible?,” Phoenix asked, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Perhaps with some kind of device,” Hershel hummed, but Ridelle instantly shook her head.
“Unthinkable! There is only one key to the this room, so no one can enter without being granted my permission. I assure you it’s true, on my honor as a curator?”
“But then how can anyone have done this?,” Maya pouted.
Layton turned his head, and his gaze fell onto the Grand Grimoire. “I believe the answer is right in front of us,” he suddenly stated. “We know who might be capable of such an act.”
“Eh?,” came from Luke.
Phoenix furrowed his eyebrows, gaze meeting Hershel’s. “You mean...witches. Don’t you?”
“Witches!,” Espella whispered.
The professor put his hands behind his back, beginning to pace around the room. “We don’t know yet who changed the page. But the more important matter is what’s written here. The “infinite vault of books” mentioned here presumably refers to the Great Archive. Which implies there is a secret of some sort hidden within the library.”
“So, that means our next objective is to find whatever this riddle’s trying to tell us,” Phoenix said.
“It’s a bit of a spooky message, can’t lie,” Maya commented.
“But if we can open this “door to the past”, then we’ll surely be one step closer to solving this mystery!,” Luke reminded her, “That makes it worth it, no?”
“Just a moment, please,” Ridelle interrupted, “I’m the curator here. And I won’t be allowing you to investigate anything without my permission.”
Luke’s shoulders sank. “So you mean we can’t investigate?”
A smile formed on the curator’s face. “Not at all. I must simply insist that you allow me to accompany you. There should be no doors in this library that I don’t know about. And if there is something hidden somewhere, as suggested by this message, it is my duty as curator to know what that is.”
Layton nodded in pure understanding. “I completely understand, Miss Mystere. We can only benefit from your presence.”
Phoenix was sure the professor was just flattering her, attempting to combat her increasing doubts in herself. He couldn’t blame her for it – first the puzzle that Hershel solved as if it was something he did every day, and now it seemed as if she didn’t even know her own library well enough to fulfill her job.
The baker could also understand why the flattery worked.
Anyone would be taken with such a gentle, warm voice.
“Now then, how about we all make our way back to the entrance?,” Hershel said, “Let’s think about where this door could be from there.”
✦•······················•✦•······················•✦
Maya earned herself praise from the professor when she excitedly pointed to the fancy insignia hanging above the curator’s desk.
It matched with what was said in the text – the sun and moon watching over the sage. With the observation that the Archive, in fact, did not possess any windows, the real sun and moon were quickly excluded from being part of the solution to this riddle. The insignia was shaped like a circle half of it being orange and representing the sun with some curved sun rays attached to it, and the other half being light blue to stand for the moon. The curator also fit the role of a sage, and Ridelle could hardly believe that the very insignia hanging above her desk for as long as she could remember turned out to be connected to a secret of such size.
“When the sun and moon, watching over the sage, swap places to show their true form,” Maya quoted the text, having jotted it down on an extra piece of parchment lent to her by Ridelle in order to avoid removing the Grand Grimoire from its assigned spot.
“What does “true form” refer to?,” Espella asked, twirling with her braid as she often did when preoccupied with a question.
“If we interpret it at face value, I would suggest that were are currently seeing their untrue form,” Hershel said.
“Hey, look!,” Phoenix, who had been closely inspecting the insignia until now (somehow, he felt it necessary to take the closest look possible, or crucial details would be missed), “There’s some kinda mechanism in place?”
Luke, always a bit interested in machinery, spotted it as well. “Ah! Professor! If you look closely, there’s another riddle hidden here!”
“You can’t be serious,” Phoenix said.
“I wanna try!,” Maya proclaimed, “We know the professor can do it anyway, so if I mess it up, I’ll leave it to him!”
Hershel chuckled, fondness in his voice. “Well, then. The stage is yours, Miss Fey. For what it’s worth, I have complete faith in you to succeed.”
A mere few minutes later, Maya let out a “yes!” - and the floor opened.
“Ah, look!,” Luke exclaimed, “There’s a stairway!”
Maya looked down. “It’s dark and cold down there,” she announced, “We’re going in.”
Phoenix watched with an expression as if a sense of impending doom had just struck him as Maya descended the stairs, humming an odd song that Phoenix could remember her singing quite a lot for some odd reason, the sound echoing due to the stone walls. Why did he feel that some specific drums were missing at the beginning?
He attempted to hum it himself, but was distracted by Layton, Luke, Ridelle and Espella passing by. “H-hey! Wait for me!”
And then they were in the cellar.
At least, it seemed to be a cellar. It definitely was as cold and damp as a cellar usually was. Who knew how long the torches on the wall had been burning, but they illuminated, among other things, a large mural on the wall.
It depicted a dragon, breathing fire over a town that was already completely ablaze.
“Dang,” Maya broke the silence, because of course she’d be the one to break the silence, “That’s kinda sinister.”
“Yeah,” Luke agreed, standing closer to Layton than usual as if afraid that of it, “This wall painting is a bit scary.”
It was then that Layton saw a woman drawn in the corner, flames seemingly coming out of her hands. “There’s also a woman hurling fire. I suppose she must be a witch?”
“That woman is the Great Witch,” Ridelle suddenly said, and all eyes turned towards her.
“Uhm, Miss Mystere?,” Phoenix said after she’d seem to be almost paralyzed with shock, but the archive’s curator was quick to recover.
“This certainly doesn’t bode well, a painting of the Great Witch here…,” she murmured, stepping closer to take a better look.
“What is the story behind the witch in this painting?,” Layton asked, keeping his voice down as not to further startle her.
She furrowed her eyebrows. “You don’t know of the Great Witch? But how can that be possible for a man of your learning?”
Phoenix felt all defensive instincts in him rush to the surface as Hershel muttered a, “Well, that’s-”
“Hey, nobody can know it all,” the baker said, and Hershel shot him a grateful look. Phoenix felt as if it was the best reward he’d gotten in his life.
“All right, my apologies,” Ridelle relented, “I’m sure you must have your reasons. I don’t wish to pry.”
The woman then told them about Bezella. Bezella was considered the Great Witch, and the mural showed the Legendary Fire – traces of which, the group realized, they’d seen on the archive’s building which was still charcoal in some parts. Apparently, she was the witch in charge of all witches, thus making her “the root of all Labyrinthia’s woes”.
As long as Bezella existed, Ridelle explained to them, witches would find no end and the townspeople would forever live in fear under the shadow of witches. When Luke inquired whether eliminating Bezella would solve Labyrinthia’s problems, Ridelle bitterly said that the inquisition was completely lost on how to locate her despite the fact that her presence was not debatable.
Hershel wasn’t an expert on the matter, but he felt that referring to the traces of fire as “Bezella’s claw marks” felt a little much.
But there was more to the story. A hundred years ago, on the evening of the fire festival, Bezella set Labyrinthia ablaze, deeply traumatizing the town. This was what they called the “Legendary Fire”, the legend of which still caused suffering among the citizens.
And why Ridelle was outraged to see a painting of this kind in her beloved library.
When the group was ushered out merely a few seconds later, nobody could pinpoint as to why Espella got that far-off look in her eyes.
✦•······················•✦•······················•✦
“Are you sure you wish to go out now, Espella?,” Patty asked, brow raised in concern. “It started drizzling. I wouldn’t want you to get soaked.”
They’d just finished dinner. The few days after their visit to the archive had been woefully uneventful, with severe rain and thunderstorms confining them to the safety of Patty’s bakery. Phoenix had taught Hershel to make bread and laughed when the man had shaped his like a top hat. Due to the extensive baking they did, however, and the fact that they’d tried out new recipes for pastries that didn’t always work out from the instant, they soon ran out of a valuable ingredient – milk.
“Oh, don’t worry about me, Aunt Patty!,” the young woman assured her, already scrambling for the milk bucket. “I have my cloak, and if it gets bad, I can wait it out by Mary’s farm! It’s not far from here, after all, and you need the milk for bread!”
Patty had her hands on her hips, sighing. Clearly, she wasn’t enthusiastic about the idea – not to mention that it was already dark outside. Who knew what kind of trouble people with no morals would wish on a teenage girl when stumbling upon her in the dead of the night?
“Please, trust me!,” Espella insisted, “I’m no little child anymore!”
“Oh, all right,” Patty gave in, “But please, remember to be careful.”
“I promise!,” Espella said before raising her hand to wave the group goodbye, disappearing in the dimly lit streets of Labyrinthia.
“I have a foul feeling about this,” Patty sighed, but decided to focus on the dough she wanted to prepare for the night.
Phoenix found a change of topic long due. “So, our problem is that we can’t get our hands on the Grand Grimoire, right?”
Phoenix was right. The professor was eager to get his hands on that book, seeing as if it may be the only valuable information on magic and witches they’d gotten a look at by now. But, even if he took the risk of soaking his hat in that dreadful weather, he wouldn’t want to dare to ask Ridelle to lend it to them after how spooked she was by the mural whose existence that very book revealed.
Labyrinthia simply had to be British if one went off the climate.
It reassured him.
“Indeed,” Hershel confirmed, “We have gotten the privilege to take a look at it, but I’m afraid Ridelle will not lend it over to us under any circumstances.”
“She said inquisitors had access to it, didn’t she?,” Maya mused, “How about – and listen, this might be a bit of a stretch – how about one of us bites the bullet, steals some inquisitor’s armor and waltzes in there pretending to be one of them, and snags the book?”
Silence.
Phoenix met Hershel’s blue-gray eyes.
“Yep, I think we can all collectively agree that this is definitely a stretch,” the baker then said, “Next idea, Maya. And it hopefully be one that doesn’t get us convicted if we get caught in the act.”
“You guys are sooo boring,” she moaned.
Although Layton considered it borderline rude, he joined the others in ignoring her.
“I would advise to remain passive for the time being,” the professor then said, folding his hands. That’s how they knew he was being dead serious. “As much as it pains me, we do not actively require the Grand Grimoire aside from anything but information, and getting it into our hands is an endeavor far too risky. As long as we don’t have any use for it, I am against invading the Great Archive and committing thievery.”
Phoenix nodded in agreement. “Yeah, all we need is the magic lore, right? Maybe there’s someone we could ask.”
“Do you think we could get an audience with the storyteller?,” Hershel wondered aloud, and was met with indignant gazes.
Not the right approach.
“My apologies. Perish the thought.”
There was a knock on the door.
Patty blinked, surprised. “Oh, my. Customers at this late hour?” She cupped her hands to form a megaphone in front of her mouth, “I’m sorry, but we’re closed!”
The door was broken open, and the woman gasped in shock. Two knights of the inquisition walked in, metal-clad arm pointing at…
...Phoenix?
“That’s him! That man over there!”
The other knight stroked his chin. “So he’s the one, is he…?”
“Just a minute!,” Patty exclaimed, “What do you think you’re doing, barging in here like this?!”
“Stand aside, madam!”, the second knight said, before turning his attention back to Phoenix, “You there, porcupine head! “You’re going to court in a week’s time!”
Luke’s jaw fell open. “Whaaaaat? To court? Mr Wright, what did you do?”
“Yeah, Nick!” Maya pouted, putting her hands to her hips. “What did you do?!”
“Nothing!,” Phoenix defended himself, “The only thing they could accuse me of is making bread that’s too good to eat!”
“Hmph! This man is not the one on trial,” one of the knights said.
“Then why do I have to go to court in a week?!,” Phoenix demanded to know.
“Simple. Because the girl has requested him!”
“Girl? What girl?!” Phoenix began to sound almost desperate.
“What girl? Naturally, the girl facing trial for this evening’s crime...that heinous witch, Miss Espella Cantabella!”