Under Your Spell

by daryfromthefuture

Summary:

When Phoenix Wright's little England holiday results in him and his assistant Maya Fey getting transported to a storybook town, he could have never anticipated that he'd bake bread, defend witches and, to top it all off, meet two Brits who seem to be caught up in the same circumstances. But can this odd group of people on their mission to rescue local Espella Cantabella achieve just that in the span of half a year - and can Phoenix and Professor Hershel Layton figure out why their hearts race whenever their eyes meet?

An AU of Professor Layton vs Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney

Chapter 1: About Town

Notes:

FINALLY THE TIME HAS COME. LAYWRIGHT WEEK!!!

i am *cracks knuckles* sooo ready. i have never been as ready for a challenge in my life, and i have my discipline and my many hours of writing to thank for that.

i sincerely hope you guys enjoy this! without further ado, let's get into it :)

 

today's prompt: first

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: My 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!”

Chapter 2: Courtroom Magic

Notes:

the trial was such a pain in the ass to write 💀 thank goodness there's transcripts, but yeah. lots of in game dialogue in this one. hope it's fun anyway!

 

today's prompt: hobby

Nobody in Patty’s bakery got any sleep the following week.

Phoenix and Maya baked more bread than usual, wondering what in the world the court and the inquisition would want from them. Well, only from Phoenix, technically, but they were a package deal.

Layton and Luke wished they could help them, somehow, but they were at a similar loss. And with Espella in custody, their own investigation came to a halt, too – she appeared to be the only one not squinting at them whenever they demanded information about witches and witchcraft.

Finally, that agonizing week of waiting crawled by, and Maya and Phoenix were taken to the local courthouse.

It instilled the feeling in Hershel that maybe, the best thing to to today was to pay another visit to the Great Archive and put his persuasion skills to use.

Upon arrival, Maya had grabbed a hold of Phoenix’s suit and was basically shaking him around. “Nick! What are we doing in a place like this?”

If only Phoenix could answer that question.

They’d been led to a dark hall lit with torches. The environment was similar to the Great Archive's cellar, and Phoenix was certain he’d just seen a rat run underneath the bench stuffed to the wall. Well, he thought bench, but in all honesty, that thing resembled a torture device more than anything else. Two guards were on duty on each side of a large gate that presumably led to another room.

Phoenix wasn’t sure whether he wanted to see that other room, but his first instinct was “no”.

“How should I know?!,” he finally replied, sounding exasperated, “We’re just a couple of bakers, but...I don’t think they brought us here to make bread.” Phoenix gulped. No, this wasn’t looking like a bakery at all. A bakery would be warmer, more inviting. Not as sinister as this room.

“Mr Wright! Maya!”

Maya and Phoenix turned around at the female voice. To their relief, it was Espella, waving them over. It was only then that they noticed how dismayed she looked, and the two bakers exchanged a worried glance.

Something must have happened, and something bad at that.

“Espella!,” Maya exclaimed, “What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry,” Espella said, “I was the one who sent for you both.”

Another exchanged look. “You...sent for us?,” Phoenix repeated, confused.

Espella nodded, kneading her hands and avoiding eye contact, as if she were ashamed to say what followed. “I’m sure you’ve heard, but- I’m being put on trial.”

Maya gasped in shock, and Phoenix felt his eyes widen. “On trial?! What even happened?”

“I don’t know!,” Espella said, “I don’t understand what’s going on, either, but- I- I didn’t do anything wrong! I couldn’t possibly…” She trailed off, the last part escaping her in a very hushed tone. “Murder anyone…”

Murder?!

“Murder?,” Maya asked.

Espella nodded before turning to Phoenix, her expression pleading. “I beg you, Mr Wright! Please, I need your help. Just one more time!”

Huh?

Phoenix gestured with his hands, unsure how else to express the sheer state of confusion he was in. “Huh? You need MY help? What could I possibly do?! I mean- look, Espella, I’m just a baker! The only thing I know about law is how to not to get on the wrong side of it.”

Espella opened her mouth to offer an explanation, but Maya jumped ahead. “Wait, hold on a sec! Espella, what did you just say? You said you needed Nick’s help “just one more time”?,” she pointed out, and if Phoenix thought about it, that was indeed really strange.

“Yeah, what do you mean by “one more time”?,” he inquired.

Espella seemed to sink into her thoughts for a moment, hand to her cheek. “I’m not quite sure myself,” she then admitted, “But when the knights came and took me, a vision suddenly appeared in my mind. It was Mr Wright, and he was fighting for me...defending me! That brave blue figure...it was clear as day.”

Phoenix was suddenly saddled with an unbearable amount of pressure. He didn’t have a good feeling about this…

“I was fighting for you? N-no way, that’s impossible!,” he insisted, in hopes of somehow getting himself out of this mess, “I mean, it’s like I already said, I’m just a baker! I have a hard enough time rolling dough, let alone defending someone in court!”

Espella nodded, but the determination in her eyes didn’t die down. “I thought the same thing too, at first. But I don’t think that’s quite true. You, and Maya, at some time, somewhere...you helped me. You fought for me – as a defender.”

A defender?

The word sounded right in Phoenix’s ears. In fact, it seemed to ignite some sort of fire, a flame of passion that no single batch of dough had ever been able to ignite.

Maybe he shouldn’t try to run away after all.

“What’s wrong, Nick?,” Maya asked, picking up on his changed feelings.

Before Phoenix even had the chance to give an answer, one of the knight guards in front of the gate abandoned his position to march over to them. “Accused! Defender! It is time. Head forth, you two.”

Maya blinked. “Head forth? Uhm, where are we going, exactly?”

The knight’s voice remained as cold as it was before. “To the courtroom in which today’s trial will be taking place. The Chamber of Fire!”

Chamber of Fire?!

“Make haste!,” the guard yelled after Phoenix and Maya had a hard time moving following the information they’d just received, “If you are but a moment late, a guilty verdict will be delivered immediately!”

That didn’t sound to good, did it? The baker duo exchanged another glance, this time a rather frightened one.

Espella noticed their uneasiness. “Mr Wright, I’m truly sorry. I know this is all so sudden…” She sighed, and Phoenix knew immediately that he couldn’t leave her in the dust, as devastated as she was. “It’s a lost cause, isn’t it?”

There it was again – that flame, that burning passion, the very thing telling him to quit whining and head in there to do this job.

Not that it really was his job, but hey, it couldn’t hurt to try, right?

“Let’s head in, Espella,” Phoenix suddenly said, whatever fear present in his posture how vanished as the man stood straight.

The young girl furrowed her eyebrows in surprise. “Huh?”

“This overwhelming pressure...it feels so familiar, somehow. Almost like a déjà vu,” Phoenix muttered to himself, not exactly clearing up Espella’s bewilderment.

“Mr- Mr Wright?,” the blonde asked again.

“Let’s go, Maya, Espella,” Phoenix said, “Maybe we’ll get a better idea once the trial gets under way.”

It was now the young women’s turn to exchange confused looks. Just mere moments ago, Phoenix had visibly shook at the mere idea of stepping into a courtroom and defend someone. Now, however, he seemed rather sure of himself.

A spark of hope emerged in Espella.

Maybe she wouldn’t be burned to death after all.

“All right! Let’s do it, Nick!,” Maya shouted, trying to sound as encouraging as possible.

The trio stepped inside the courtroom.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Hot.

It was so hot in this courtroom.

Of course, that was to expected for a hall called “Chamber Of Fire”, but that didn’t mean Phoenix had to like it. Because oh no, he didn’t like it at all.

What happened to their peaceful lives as bakers? Why were they being forced to watch young women being dropped into a sea of flames just because they were witches? Or, even worse – supposed witches?

Phoenix and Maya had taken up the spot behind the defense’s bench, and honestly, burning passion or not, all Phoenix wanted was to believe this was just a wretched dream. The knights of the inquisition had taken Espella into the iron maiden, as if to thoroughly display her before she was to be executed. Suddenly, their image of dreamy fairy tale town Labyrinthia was crumbling – and Phoenix wasn’t sure whether he’d be able to return the bakery and bake bread after all this.

Especially if he failed.

Did he have what was necessary to protect Espella from meeting such a cruel fate?

The judge, clad in a purple hood that threw his face into a shadow just as sinister as the courtroom itself, slammed his gavel. “The court is now in session for the trial of Espella Cantabella.” Phoenix felt his heart sink as the judge’s eyes turned to him. “Defender?”

“Y-Yes, Your Honor?”

“Yours is a face I have not seen in any past trials,” the judge stated, “But no matter. Start by saying your name, defender.”

“Yes, Your Honor!,” Phoenix replied with perhaps a bit too much thrill in his tone, “My name is Phoenix Wright, ace baker!”

The judge’s eyes widened to an almost comical degree. “A baker?”

“I asked him to come, Milord!,” Espella chimed in, “I want him to represent me. This court dictates that the accused is free to assign a defender of their choosing, Milord.”

The judge nodded. “Very well. At any rate, the result of this trial shall not change…”

Maya shot Phoenix a panicked look, and Phoenix could only concur, What in the world did the judge mean by that?! Surely it couldn’t mean…?

“That aside, I have not yet seen hide nor hair of the inquisitor assigned to this trial,” the judge commented, turning his head to the empty inquisitor’s bench. “Should the assigned inquisitor fair to appear in court, I will have no choice but to dismiss all charges.”

Phoenix allowed himself to feel hope at that. They’d better get lucky.

“He is an inquisitor of high caliber,” the judge continued, “But if he does not come forward soon, this trial will end and victory will then be declared in favor of this baker!”

The gallery seemed to severely disagree with that, but Phoenix couldn’t care less. He was basically praying for said inquisitor not to show up.

But his prayers weren’t answered.

“Hold it!,” a loud voice rang out, and in stepped another knight.

Except he looked as if he was holding a much higher position than a mere guard, or even a soldier of the knight army. He had a long cloak, golden badges on his uniform, and when he stepped behind the inquisitor’s bench, Phoenix felt his blood run cold. He couldn’t make claims about the man’s intellect just yet, but he knew that he’d never beat him in a fist fight.

As the knight took off his helmet, revealing sharp, orange-looking hair (but it could be a shade of pink; Phoenix truly couldn’t tell in the dim courtroom lighting), the judge slammed his gavel once more.

“Knights of the Court, I have but one question for you both: Are you prepared to cross swords?”

Swords?!

Just as the judge had stated, the opposing inquisitor suddenly drew out a shiny sword, blade glistening in the fiery light of the torches. “I, Inquisitor Zacharias Barnham, am indeed prepared to do battle, My Lord!”

Phoenix had the feeling he was supposed to say something as well, but his eyes were glued to the dangerous, hell, deadly weapon that Barnham so casually wielded in a court of law. He’d dealt with whips, scorching hot coffee, emotional abuse, but – a sword?

Say what you will, but that’s way too much.

Wait, why did he remember whips and hot coffee?

“Something amiss, baker?,” the judge asked upon his lack of reply.

Nervously, Phoenix rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry, Your Honor. I just didn’t realize we could have swords here in the courtroom.”

“It is the way of the Court Knight,” Barnham said, “A knight must always ensure that he rides with a blade at his side. Now then, state your name, Sir Blue Knight.”

Phoenix couldn’t deny that the nickname sounded sort of noble, however there was no way to tell if Barnham was mocking him or not, so he kept his “thank you” to himself. “My name is Phoenix Wright. I’m a baker.”

Barnham clearly hadn’t expected that. “A baker?!”

“Nick, quit with the long face!,” Maya hissed in Phoenix’s direction, “You look miserable!”

“Gee, thanks, Maya, because right now, we’re definitely in a situation in which smiling is appropriate-”

“No need to waste your breath,” Barnham interrupted their little chat, “This trial will be over before you can utter a single objection.”

Phoenix didn’t like the sound of that.

The inquisitor raised his sword into the air, pointing at the court’s large ceiling. “For the security of all of Labyrinthia, my blade shall rend your defenses swiftly and without mercy!”

The gallery chanted Barnham’s name, and Phoenix felt the pit of dread in his stomach growing. What measly chance did he even have to do anything at all in this trial?

“Inquisitor Barnham, you may begin your opening statement,” the judge commanded after quieting the hall with his gavel.

“As you wish, Milord,” Barnham complied, “First, let us begin with the events leading up to the murder. Is that acceptable, Sir Apprentice Baker?”

Why’s he asking me?!

“Uh, as you wish.”

Barnham nodded before taking out a piece of parchment, presumably notes about the case at hand. “The murder occurred exactly a week ago. The day before that, there was heavy rainfall in the area. Eventually, it gave way to sunshine, which came just in time for the parade. Although a few hours after the parade ended, the rain set in once more. It continued to rain until just before the incident, which took place on a small path leading to the market. The accused had been out doing some shopping at the market, and she returned home on that very same path. And on that forest path, two rogues, named Robbs and Muggs, are said to have accosted the accused. One could assume the accused simply acted in “self-defense”.”

The judge had closed his eyes and stroked his bushy beard in thought. “I see. Robbs and Muggs...those two have appeared in court a number of times in the past.”

“No wonder, with those names!,” Maya giggled.

“So far, it may appear that the accused was more the “victim”,” Barnham continued, “However, the situation soon changed. Yes, that’s right. The accused, Espella Cantabella...knowingly and mercilessly murdered her two assailants!”

The audience began whispering again. Somehow, Phoenix felt this was severely inappropriate for such a trial. Especially because the people had obviously taken a side.

Or maybe he was just salty that said side wasn’t his.

“I believe we now fully grasp what happened,” the judge stated, “It is getting late already. Let us begin the trial. Inquisitor Barnham, you may now begin.”

“As you wish, Milord,” Barnham said again, “The inquisition will now hear eyewitness testimony regarding the night of the murder.”

“Eyewitness testimony?,” Phoenix echoed under his breath. What was he, as a baker, supposed to do with eyewitness testimony? This situation was more twisted than a pretzel – the pretzel he’d much rather make right now that handle whatever came next. After all, he was just a simple bread-making baker...living a simple bread-making life…

Snap out of it, Phoenix! You have to save Espella!

Determined, Phoenix raised his head high and put his hands on the desk.

Time to untwist this thing!

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

A weird old man with a long beard who seemed to float in place, an angry-looking elderly woman clutching a baby goat to her chest, a timid flower seller who picked apart her dandelions and polluted the courtroom floor, and an aspiring knight with a rubber sword.

Phoenix couldn’t help but feel that they weren’t the most reliable witnesses.

Not to mention the fact that he apparently was supposed to question them all at once!

He was pretty sure this wasn’t how things were supposed to go in court, but for the sake of Espella, he’d play along.

“The delicious scent of mid-evening dinner permeated the air, and a soft light shone faintly in the distance,” the old man, who’d introduced himself as Wordsmith, said regarding the incident.

“Muggs grabbed the girl by the arm. It looked like he almost pushed her too the ground!,” the woman with the goat, Mary, recalled.

“I heard a faint voice cry out,” the flower seller, Kira, said, “The next moment, those two villainous men burst into flame!”

Knightle, the knight-in-training, added, “There was not a trace of fire to be seen in the area! Without a doubt, magic must have been used!”

Magic?!

How absurd was this going to get? Sure, this town had witches, and has had witches for a long time, but still…

“Sir Apprentice Baker, you may now begin your interrogation,” the judge told him.

Phoenix was about to open his mouth when Barnham stepped forth. “I have but one piece of advice: I suggest you play it heed. Do not waste this court’s time by grilling these witnesses over irrelevant nonsense, Sir Apprentice Baker.”

Phoenix despised that nickname.

“What makes you think I’d do that?,” he said, with as much confidence as he could possibly muster.

“Are you all right, Nick?,” Maya whispered, “They sure love calling you an apprentice baker, huh?”

No need to rub salt in the wound, Maya.

The defense attorney ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll be honest with you, Maya, I have no idea how I’m feeling right now. But...I know it’s all up to me. As her “defender”, Espella’s fate is in my hands.”

Maya seemed even more concerned than before.

Phoenix shot her a reassuring smile. He at least hoped it was reassuring. “I have to believe in her, and I’ll need to start believing in myself. I can do this. I believe Espella is innocent. And I’ll fight until the end to prove it!”

The spirit medium felt empowered enough to smile back at him. “Yeah, that’s the spirit! We can do this thing, Nick!”

Here we go. Cross-examination time.

First things first, he needed that “magic” thing cleared up.

“Hold it!,” he called out to Knightle, “Isn’t it a bit premature to assume it was “magic”?”

Knightle seemed borderline offended. “What an absurd statement!”

“Say what?”

“Think about it!,” the young knight insisted, “The knaves were engulfed in flames – in the blink of an eye! The. Blink. Of. An. Eye! There was not a single trace of any other fire source to be found in the area! Not. A. Trace! Therefore, there is only one true explanation as to what caused that inferno!”

Phoenix raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “And that would be…?”

If that knight guy tried that whole “magic” thing again, Phoenix would lose it.

“There is no crime in simply not knowing, but refusing to accept the plain truth?! There lies the true crime, Sir Apprentice Baker!,” Barnham growled.

The judge looked equally distressed. “That is quite the crime indeed, defender!”

Maya pouted. “No way! Espella can’t be a witch!”

Phoenix decided it would be better to focus on another part of the testimony rather than getting grilled from all sides. Aside from Maya, of course. Bless her.

He shifted his focus to Wordsmith, who seemed to be the most harmless one out of the witnesses currently present. “What time did the incident happen?,” he inquired.

“Dinner time,” the old man simply replied, “When else would the scent of dinner be in the air, if not dinner time? Do you see?”

No.

“Not so much,” Phoenix sheepishly admitted.

Barnham rolled his eyes. “The sun had already set by that time. That should be adequate.”

So the sun had set, huh? But that meant…

“Hang on, so you clearly witnessed what happened that night, or…?”

Wordsmith showed zero emotion, and Phoenix didn’t exactly find that helpful. “I have been dubbed a “witness”, thus I must clearly have witnessed something. Do you see?”

Ugh, goddammit!

“In that case, how much light was there in the immediate area at that time?”

“Enough to see the nose on my face, but not enough to see the trees ahead. Do you see?”

Phoenix was about to tear his hair out. “No, no, no! That doesn’t add up!,” he whined, “If the area was completely dark, then you couldn’t possibly have “witnessed” anything! Do YOU see?”

Wordsmith stopped floating around from side to side, and Phoenix took that as a success. It sure felt good to give him a taste of his own medicine. “Ahem, nevertheless, something caught my eye,” Wordsmith stated, “It was a most ominous sight. Ominous is what that sight was!”

Even less helpful. “Uh, okay, I get it. It was “ominous”…”

“Objection!,” Barnham yelled from the opposing counsel, “Poor form, Sir Apprentice Baker.”

Phoenix sucked it up. “Oh, yeah?”

The inquisitor nodded. “I hate to disappoint you, but there was, in fact, “light” in the area.”

Phoenix blinked in confusion. “Huh?”

“Take a look at this,” Barnham said, passing him another piece of parchment. It depicted a drawing of who appeared to be Espella in the woods, together with the two rogues. “This is a drawing of the crime scene, based on the witnesses’ accounts, as penned by the Court Illustrator.”

The what now? “The Court Illustrator…?”

“Look carefully,” Barnham instructed him, “This shows what the scene looked like at the time of the murder.”

The judge seemed pleased. “An illustration of the highest quality, as always.”

“Now then,” Barnham said, “We have established that by the time the murder occurred, the sun had already set. And so, naturally, the defendant was carrying a fire-lit lantern, as we can see.”

“A- a lantern?!”

Phoenix looked down at the sketch, and to his horror, Barnham was correct.

“Eureka! Indeed!,” Wordsmith exclaimed, “Yes, that is what I was saying earlier! There was a lantern! A lantern, I say!”

Phoenix decided to glaze over the fact that this old geezer definitely had forgotten to include the lantern in his testimony, if he had remembered its mere existence at all.

“To be honest, I did not imagine it would be necessary to present this,” Barnham added in a pitying tone, “But Milord, here is the lantern in question. This is what was responsible for the light illuminating the area.”

The judge looked as stern as ever. “Very well. The court accepts this into evidence.” Phoenix calmly added it to his (admittedly very small) collection of items. “Speaking of which, Inquisitor Barnham. In this drawing, the accused seems to be holding a milk bucket of sorts. What became of it?”

Phoenix was relieved when even Barnham looked stunned on this one. “That is a strange case indeed, Milord,” he said, mouth pressed into a thin line. “That bucket seemingly disappeared from the murder scene.”

The defense lawyer raised an eyebrow. “The milk bucket disappeared?”

“There has been talk of wolves living in the nearby forest,” Barnham tried to worm his way out of this one. “It is thought they often make off with the items they find on the ground.”

Never mind the wolves. “This is great, Nick!,” Maya said, clapping her hands in enthusiasm, “We’ve got new evidence now!”

“Ah, yeah! You’re right!” And I think I know exactly where to use that one…

Phoenix instantly turned back to Knightle. “Could you please repeat what you said about it having to be magic and why?”

Knightle crossed his arms. “Did you not hear me the first time?! I said that there was not a single trace of any other fire source to be found in the area. Not! A! Trace!”

Ha!

And that’s where you’re wrong!

Phoenix’s lungs filled with air as, in an automatic motion, he swung his arm forward, pointing at Knightle. With his whole voice power, he shouted, “Objection!”

The courtroom went silent.

Phoenix felt as if a piece he hadn’t known was missing in the first place had been returned to him.

What...what is this? This sudden urge to shout and point...”Objection”, huh? I can’t help but feel that I’ve used this word quite a bit in the past!

With the force of a tsunami, the memories came crashing over him.

London. The Legal League of Attorney’s Exchange. Espella’s trial in which she was charged with theft and assault. That weird book…

That weird book that got them here!

But hey, at least he knew what he was – an actual defense attorney, qualified, in the flesh!

“Witness!,” he yelled.

Knightle drew back in shock. “Wh- what’s with the sudden pointing?!,” he shrieked, “I- I am a soon to be member of the honorable Knights of the Inquisition! I accept your challenge! Have at you!”

You bet! Phoenix hit against the courtroom sketch with the back of his hand. “You say that no fire was present at the scene of the crime, meaning the defendant must have used magic,” he said, “Unfortunately for you, that is not the case.”

Barnham was now squinting, and if Phoenix wasn’t mistaken, he looked vaguely threatened. “What do you mean, Sir Apprentice Baker?”

“What I mean is that the defendant was, in fact, carrying a lantern. A lantern containing fire! These two “rogues” were actually burned by the flame that was inside that lantern! That is the only logical explanation!”

Phoenix’s heart dripped when a smirk returned to Barnham’s face. “My, what a startling conclusion you’ve come to, Sir Apprentice Baker.”

“Wh-what do you mean?!”

Barnham laughed out. “The “only logical explanation”? Do you agree with this statement, honorable witnesses?”

The witnesses disagreed.

The flame was small, they said. Impossibly small to burn two men alive, and at that speed especially. Were they soaked in oil or something, the witnesses questioned.

And just like that, Phoenix’s argument was burnt to a crisp as well.

“Well, Sir Blue Knight? It would seem you have bitten off more than you can chew.”

Crap!

“What do you say, Milord?,” Barnham continued, addressing the judge, “Do you have any thoughts on the proceedings thus far?”

Phoenix despised the serious look on the judge’s face. “Given the testimony as we have heard it, this court has come to its conclusion.”

Oh, god, no!

“’Twas a truly gruesome and merciless act,” the man continued, “An act for which only one thing could be held responsible: The nefarious crime of magic!”

“Hold it!,” Phoenix shouted, “Wait, just a second!”

The judge didn’t bother opening his eyes. “Is there something you have forgotten to mention, defender?”

“Not exactly, Your Honor,” Phoenix stammered, “It’s just that- I mean, you just said “magic”. But that can’t be right, can it?”

“What are you suggesting, Sir Apprentice Baker? Witches use magic, which in turn brings about disaster. Such is the way of the world, is it not?,” Barnham said.

“W-well, yeah, but…”

“This court finds Espella Cantabella, the accused, charged with being a witch,” the judge said.

Oh. They were for real?

Phoenix wouldn’t believe it. “E-Espella? A witch?”

“A witch’s existence in this world is a crime in itself,” Barnham stated.

“The ability to use and control magic is a criminal offense, indeed,” the judge confirmed, “As such, any witch found practicing magic will be sentenced to death by fire!”

What?!

“N-No!,” Espella cried, “You’re wrong! I’m not a witch!”

Barnham clicked his tongue. “Sir Apprentice Baker, I do not envy your current predicament. Milord! Hand down your guilty verdict against this witch immediately!”

“Objection!,” Phoenix intervened, “There’s no evidence to prove that any magic was really used!”

Wordsmith clearly just wanted to go back to his dinner. “Put a sock in it, bread boy! We all heard her cast the spell!”

Spell?! What’s this about now?

“That’s right!,” Mary concurred, “Snowy and I heard it! Isn’t that right, precious?” She stroked her pet goat’s fur. “We heard the incantation quite clearly!”

“That frightening voice,” Kira whispered, as if that very voice belonged to Phoenix himself, “There’s no mistaking it! It was Espella’s voice!”

“These ears do not lie!,” Knightle yelled,” I clearly heard an incantation most sinister! “Ignaize”, it went!”

Maya and Phoenix exchanged a look.

“Incantation?,” Phoenix repeated.

“Ignaize?,” Maya asked.

Barnham didn’t waste another second. “Well then, it would seem the defense has no further objections.”

“It appears so,” the judge said, “The court finds the use of magic at the time of the murder to be an undeniable fact. Furthermore, the honorable witnesses have stated that they each heard an incantation being recited. The court finds no reason to delay its verdict any longer.”

Maya spoke Phoenix’s mind. “Nick! We have to do something!,” she pleaded.

“I- I know! But what exactly can we say? Here, in this world, our sense of logic is completely useless!”

The judge was holding the gavel dangerously high. “This court is ready to hand down its verdict for the case of Espella Cantabella-”

And then, out of the shadows, Phoenix’s saving grace. A calm, warm voice, but no less assertive than Barnham himself: “Hold it!”

Heads snapped around towards the source of the voice, and Phoenix let out a sigh of relief at the sight of one very familiar top hat.

“Your Honor! I request that the court hold its verdict a moment longer!,” Layton demanded.

“What- what is the meaning of this intrusion?!”, the judge asked.

“I have something I believe will be of use to the defense,” Hershel simply stated, “A weapon, of sorts.”

Phoenix’s gaze traveled down to the book that the professor was carrying under his armpit. No way!

“The Grand Grimoire,” Layton explained, “All of this world’s magic is contained within its pages. Without it, this trial cannot reach a satisfactory conclusion!”

“The Grand Grimoire?,” Phoenix echoed. How in the world did Hershel-

And just like that, Espella wasn’t in lethal danger just yet. Barnham furrowed his eyebrows as Hershel strode over to the defense’s bench, Luke following behind him, cheerful as ever. Phoenix and Maya high-fived below the desk.

Yes! It wasn’t over yet!

“We meet again, Mr Wright,” Layton said, his gray-blue eyes twinkling in the orange lighting, “It seems things are already afoot here. Though the real contest begins now. Are you fully prepared?”

“So, you’re here to help us?,” Maya asked, wasting no time in getting straight to the point.

“Of course!,” Luke replied, “The professor always helps people in trouble! “It is the duty of every gentleman”, right, Professor?”

Hershel smiled and nodded. “Naturally.”

“Right,” Phoenix said, albeit he still couldn’t stop the shaking in his hands. Sure, they had the book now and all, but what in the world was he supposed to do with it?

“You have been working as a baker in this town up until now, have you not?,” Hershel inquired, though his expression told Phoenix that he knew the answer to whatever he was trying to ask, “I always was a little mystified as to why you weren’t familiar with this town’s magic system as every other here seems to me.”

Phoenix ran a hand through his hair. “Ah, yeah...how can I put this...I guess that’s not quite the full story.”

Layton smiled as if he’d been counting on that answer. “Is that so?”

“I kind of had an epiphany just now. I remembered all sorts of things, like how I’m not actually a baker-” He slammed his desk, addressing Barnham once more, “-And how magic can’t actually exist!”

“Then it would seem I was correct about you, Mr Wright. You are not, in fact, a citizen of this town. Is that correct?,” Layton continued, ignoring the angry stare Barnham was giving Phoenix.

“Yep. I’m actually Californian, and I was in England, and I’m an actual freaking defense lawyer, but this system of theirs is completely throwing me off the rails! How can anyone expect me to perform a solid defense?!”

“I’m afraid we have no option but to accept this world and its rules as a reality,” Layton said, “Without first understanding those rules, I fear you will not be able to save Miss Cantabella.”

“Right,” Phoenix agreed, “But things like magic only exist in fairy tales and make-believe!”

Hershel nodded before humming. “You have a point. However, it would seem magic does in fact “exist” in this world. Such a truth cannot be denied.” The professor smiled once more, gently sliding the Grand Grimoire across the defense’s bench, prompting Phoenix to take it. “That is why the Grand Grimoire is a weapon well suited for this witch trial, as I’ve suspected. At the moment, you are tantamount to a knight without a sword.”

Luke pointed to a bookmark sticking out. “I’ve gone and bookmarked the spell Ignaize for you!”

“Ignaize…,” Maya muttered to herself, “That’s the magic spell all the witnesses said they heard, right? Nick, you should take a look at that spell!”

“Will the defense stop whispering?!,” Barnham suddenly yelled, and to their misfortune, the judge agreed with him.

“The defender has been given more than enough time,” he said, “It would seem this trial has reached its end.”

The triumphant grin on Barnham’s face made Phoenix nearly want to punch him. “Is that understood, Sir Apprentice Baker? This case is quite straightforward, with very little room for doubt. The witnesses’ testimony, coupled with the illustration of the time of the murder, makes it quite clear what must have occurred. This murder was the result of magic...and furthermore, the caster of said magic was none other than the accused.”

No!

“That, Sir Apprentice Baker, is the truth! Best you go back to baking, for I believe your days in the courtroom have crumbled!”

Argh, goddammit!

Layton must have perceived the genuine despair on his face. “Is everything okay, Mr Wright?,” he asked, and Phoenix didn’t have time to think about the wave of warmth the genuine concern in Layton’s voice sent through his body.

“Y-Yes!,” Phoenix insisted, watching Hershel go through the court record in the corner of his eye.

“Hm, it would seem that photographs do not exist in this world,” Hershel murmured.

“That kinda makes sense, with the time period and all,” Phoenix said. Maybe they had time-traveled after all.

But then his gaze fell upon the crime sketch. “Hey, wait. Could you give me that, Professor?”

“Hm? Oh, yes, naturally.” Hershel handed the sketch over to Phoenix.

“I think...no, I’m pretty sure there’s a contradiction in here!,” Phoenix whispered, tone hushed but excited nevertheless.

“Mr Wright, you have to hurry!,” Luke urged him, “Look! The judge...He looks ready to deliver his verdict any second now!”

Indeed, the judge was repeatedly letting the gavel fall against the palm of his hand, looking at Phoenix expectantly.

Well, there was only one thing to do.

“One second, Your Honor,” Phoenix said, “The defense requests permission to have another look at the court illustration. I’m confident there might be a contradiction in here.”

“Objection!,” Barnham growled, “You are already out of time. All testimony and evidence given thus far has been proven to be accurate!”

“Objection!,” Phoenix yelled back, “I wouldn’t be so sure, Inquisitor Barnham. There’s just one thing you’ve overlooked. A piece of evidence-” Phoenix picked up the Grand Grimoire, holding it up for the inquisition and the judge to see, “-Within this book!”

“The Grand Grimoire?,” the judge inquired, wide-eyed.

“Absurd!,” Barnham scoffed, “I overlooked something? You are the defender here. You should have examined the tome earlier!”

“You’re right, I should have,” Phoenix dryly agreed, “But unfortunately, I was nothing but a simple baker until just now.”

“Interesting,” Barnham scoffed, “You’ve certainly begun to show your true colors, Sir Blue Knight. Let us see what type of knight you truly are. Have at you!”

“The defender will now show us this supposed contradiction,” the judge announced, “Defender, use this magnifying glass to locate the point of relevance. Then reveal to the court the location of this “contradiction” you speak.”

Taken aback, Phoenix spun the magnifying glass he was handed around before pulling out the court illustration. Showtime!

The magnifying glass was placed on Espella’s hand holding the lantern.”Got it! The contradiction is right here!”

“The hand of the accused?,” the judge asked, “She seems to be holding a lantern.”

For the umpteenth time, Barnham rolled his eyes. “What is your point?”

“According to this tome, using the spell Ignaize…” Phoenix flipped to the necessary page in the Grand Grimoire, holding it up for the court to see, “...requires the use of the witch’s sceptre, as well as an incantation. Isn’t that right?”

“Correct,” Barnham confirmed, “For witches to use magic, they must be in possession of a witch’s scepter, also known as a Talea Magica.”

Good! “If that’s the case, then there’s one thing that doesn’t add up. Take another look at Ms Cantabella’s hands. Tell me, do you see the witch’s scepter in either of her hands?”

Barnham didn’t seem fazed.

A drop of cold sweat ran down Phoenix’s temple. “Maybe that contradiction was a little too obvious…”

“What you said is correct, Sir Apprentice Baker,” he relented before a confident expression returned to his face, “But you should not underestimate me.”

And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world and totally wasn’t destroying Phoenix’s entire case, Barnham pulled a staff out from under the inquisition’s bench. It was shaped like two snakes intertwined with one another, two different-colored gems stuck to the top.

“This is perhaps your first time seeing this item, is it not?,” the inquisitor asked, “Right here is the very scepter you mention. One of the witnesses found it tossed in the shrubbery on the side of the path.”

Wordsmith lit up at that. “Aha! Yes! Indeed, that was I! I located it! My found found themselves ensnared in the blasted thing, and it sent me flying through the air!”

Phoenix bit his lower lip as to not to laugh. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised that guy fell – with that posture and attitude, he was somewhere in the clouds most of the time.

“This scepter does seem to carry a most sinister air,” the judge commented.

“Indeed, Milord,” Barnham agreed, “However, this scepter will only work while in the hands of a witch, with the incantation being said aloud.”

“Awh, that’s to bad,” Maya said, dejected, “I wanted to try lighting some stuff on fire.”

“Please don’t look at ME when you say that,” Phoenix hissed.

Barnham paid them no mind. “You see, there are two magic gems set in this scepter.”

Magic gems, huh? The scepter had a red and while one at the moment, Phoenix noted. But whatever did they mean?

“These gems each contain a particular magic spell,” Barnham explained, “By simply looking at these magic gems, one can easily determine which magic spell was used.”

Maya gasped. “Nick! Quick, look at this page?”

Phoenix did as asked, his eyes getting hooked on the man in the dark coat next to-

No, wait, the red magic gem depicted in the Grand Grimoire on the page next to the spell Ignaize.

“The red gem you see here is the spell Ignaize. And if you look carefully, you should notice that this scepter also has one more spell that can be used.”

“One more spell?,” Phoenix echoed, squinting to get a better look at the staff. Barnham must mean the white gem.

“Mr Wright, I’ve found it!,” Luke exclaimed, “Here’s the spell for the white magic gem!”

The page Luke had bookmarked for the lawyer indeed showed the white gem in question – and a spell called “Dimere”. “Dimere,” Phoenix read aloud, “Causes anything the caster touches to vanish from sight.”

Fuck!

“Urgh!”

Barnham had his hands on his sword again, this time probably wanting to throw it at the defense lawyer due to the latter’s stupidity. “Hmph. I see you managed to work it out in that crusty head of yours.”

“Th-that’s just…” Phoenix was seriously growing desperate. What kind of stupid world was this?! He’d have a lot of things stacked against him in court before, but magic? That was a new low.

But he had to admit it. “The reason the witch’s scepter couldn’t be seen is because the magic spell Dimere had made it disappear…”

“That’s right,” came from Barnham, “In other words, the accused conjured a cowardly spell to camouflage her own use of magic!”

The gallery, the stupid, stupid gallery, began chanting Barnham’s name again. The scepter was submitted into evidence, but Phoenix felt that the evidence was not for him but rather for Inquisitor Barnham to use. What was the point of this, anyway?

He had to do something!

“Objection!”, he cried out, “Hold on, please!”

“Is there a problem, Sir Baker?,” the judge asked.

Phoenix took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts in order to be able to form a whole sentence. “Okay, I understand this is a witch’s scepter. However! Whether or not the scepter was in Ms Cantabella’s position has not yet been proven!”

“What are you talking about, Sir Apprentice Baker?!”, Barnham grunted, clearly growing impatient.

Now, that had to knock them over!

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m talking about fingerprints! Supposing Ms Cantabella did in fact handle this witch’s scepter, then her fingerprints should still be on it!”

No reaction.

Phoenix forgot that medieval town meant medieval town – and that completely. The concept of fingerprinting was foreign to the law enforcement in Labyrinthia, and there went his only chance at a defense.

The fact that he was technically a baker wasn’t helping Phoenix’s reputation much, either.

And the judge was about to deliver a verdict once more.

Not with Hershel Layton. “Pardon the interruption,” the Englishman said, “May I have a word, Inquisitor Barnham?”

“What’s that?,” Barnham breathed, “Who might you be?”

“My name is Hershel Layton. I am a friend of both the accused and the defense. Inquisitor Barnham, please allow me to confirm what you believe happened on the night of the crime. You claim the witch’s scepter was made to disappear through the use of magic, is that correct?”

Barnham squinted, clearly suspicious. “Indeed. Through the magic spell Dimere.”

“If possible, would you mind providing proof of this particular claim?”

A shiver ran down Phoenix’s spine at the words; said so casually, and yet so calmly, with a voice that was as steady as it could shake this courtroom to the very core.

It did something odd to his insides.

Barnham was, apparently, just as taken aback. “What…?”

“You claim the scepter was not seen,” Layton reminded him, “Indeed, that is one possibility. However, a wise man must always consider every possibility.”

That got the judge thinking. “Hmm. What say you, Inquisitor Barnham? Can the inquisition fulfill the request presented by the gentleman with the...unusual hat?”

Barnham paused. The silence was deafening, the atmosphere so thick with anticipation. “The inquisition cannot honor this request for proof. If you are asserting that the accused is not a witch, then the burden of proof lies at the feet of the defender.”

“No, it does not,” Phoenix shot back, “It’s the inquisition’s job to prove a crime was committed.”

“The accepted method of thinking in this world differs greatly from our own, it seems,” Hershel simply sighed.

“How regrettable, Sir Apprentice Baker,” Barnham said, having recovered from Layton’s piercing eyes and the question he’d failed to answer, “And you, Sir Dark Hat.”

The witnesses picked up on the fact that their oh so beloved inquisitor ran out of things to say – and instantly offered to testify again.

Phoenix felt another drop of sweat run down his face.

He still had a chance!

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

That “chance” of his took up the next hour.

They circled from the muddy lantern to when and where Espella supposedly dropped her witches' scepter to the fact that, to quote Hershel Layton, “logic doesn’t exist in this world”.

Phoenix was growing weary, but at least the judge seemed taken with his tactics and was taking him seriously rather than continuing to address him with “Sir Apprentice Baker”.

Things got worse when a fifth witness took the stand, an old, visibly drunk guy by the name of Emeer Punchenbaug, severely over-complicating the entire trial. Phoenix was beginning to think they’d be here at night, and while he couldn’t exactly claim he was a baker anymore, he did miss the bed in the bakery.

To his delight, Kira revealed herself to be suspicious.

Layton shared that reaction. “Well, Miss Kira. It would seem you are beginning to show the court your true colors.”

“Oh?,” the flower girl scoffed, “Whatever do you mean? Okay then, everyone. It looks like that’s that-”

“Hold it!,” Phoenix interjected as the young woman turned to leave, “Wait, you can’t go yet! This cross-examination isn’t over!”

“Now, that’s funny,” Kira said in a snarky tone, “You say it isn't over, and yet the rest of the court seems to think otherwise. Isn’t that right, Inquisitor Barnham?”

Layton’s eyes seemed to pierce him, but the last thing Barnham would do was to give in to the defense. “The inquisition maintains that the real witch is the accused, Espella Cantabella. This girl, Kira, is nothing more than a witness. As such, the court cannot force her to stay against her will.”

Phoenix drew in his breath. “But-”

“You really like throwing around accusations, don’t you, Sir Defender?,” Kira snapped.

“Ah, yeah?,” Phoenix fired back, “Well, too bad, but I have evidence!” He put his pointing arm to use once more. “Evidence to prove Espella Cantabella is not a witch!”

Silence.

Awfully eerie silence.

Phoenix could hear Barnham gritting his teeth like a hungry dog from a mile away, and his stomach flipped as the inquisitor took a hold of his sword, pulling it out in a swift motion. The noise the blade caused during said action was enough to make the attorney fully nauseous.

“I’m afraid this won’t cut it, Sir Blue Knight,” Barnham said, sword pointed at Phoenix from the opposite table, and Phoenix could only hope he’d stay there. “Defending witches should be as punishable a sin as being one already is.”

Phoenix gulped. “But, uh, I’m not defending a witch. Because Espella isn’t a-”

Barnham jumped over the inquisitor’s bench. The witnesses let out a scream and hid behind their own bench.

Oh, crap!

Instinctively, Phoenix raised his arms above his head, ducking low as he heard Barnham run, the rattle of his heavy knight uniform echoing throughout the whole courtroom. The gallery cheered for his demise, and Phoenix was fully prepared for impact, already feeling the burning pain in his forearms, when-

Clang!

Nothing.

Only then did he become aware of the shadow by his side holding a sword against Barnham’s blade.

“I can’t help but wonder,” a familiar, calm voice said, “Why violence committed with the use of magic is frowned upon while conventional violence is encouraged even in a court of law.”

Phoenix’s heart rate had to slow down before he dared to look up. Too bad it picked up again the moment he saw what was happening.

Next to him, pushing Barnham's sword away from his precious spikes (and, well, head), was the professor.

Maya and Luke, who had dashed towards the courtroom exit to avoid being slashed, gasped. Phoenix couldn’t help but notice that compared to Maya’s surprised gasp, Luke’s was rather ecstatic.

Barnham, clearly, was less enthusiastic. “Why, you-”

He swung his sword, and Phoenix wanted to yell at Layton to be careful, goddammit, but again, the blades clashed. A bead of sweat rolled down Barnham’s temple, and in his perplexed state, he climbed onto the defense's bench in hopes to reinstall his dominance. Layton remained unfazed.

The gallery continued shouting Barnham’s name as he attempted to spin around to refocus on his original target, but Phoenix, too, had bolted to the exit area. He’d apologize for his cowardice later, but he laughed a little when he saw Barnham mouth a curse.

“How about we solve this with words rather than swords?,” Hershel proposed, and for a second, the trio at the door believed that there was no way Barnham could say no to that, especially in an institution of justice. But the inquisitor seemed to have another opinion as he withdrew his blade only to thrust again.

In vain.

Phoenix had no idea where in the world a professor of archaeology had acquired such sword-fighting skills, but the spectacle that unfolded before their very eyes was something like straight out of a historical fiction movie.

Layton, too, jumped onto the bench, keeping his balance as swords were crossed back and forth. He came dangerously close to toppling over when he was forced backwards, but he managed to remain on his feet and push Barnham back instead. With the insane weight of metal on his body, Barnham didn’t have as much luck with staying on top, and he had to concentrate on landing on his soles rather than his back when he stumbled off the bench.

The indignant gasps from the gallery themselves made that maneuver worth it.

Phoenix couldn’t stop a grin from forming on his face.

The judge watched with wide eyes as Hershel followed Barnham to the ground, and the two men used the courtroom as a battlefield. Maya screamed when Barnham barely avoided cutting off Layton’s right arm. The gallery let out a sigh of relief when Barnham managed to duck Layton’s blade before it sliced through his armor, not that Hershel had the intention of harming anyone, and so he sighed that sigh with everyone else.

The commotion was put to an end when, after finding their way onto the inquisition’s bench, Barnham’s sword fell to the stone ground with a clang.

The courtroom was dead silent.

The judge whacked his gavel as the trial resumed.

Phoenix had a hard time not just focusing on the man who’d saved his life.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Espella was not guilty.

Of course she wasn’t guilty, Phoenix had known that much from the beginning. Proving it had been hard, and Barnham was anything but happy with the outcome. He’d kept a suspiciously tight grip on his sword when he’d walked out the courtroom, and if looks could kill, Phoenix would have been six feet under.

But hey, Espella was with them again, looking forward to cuddling her cat after spending a dreadful week in that dungeon.

However, the euphoria about the verdict had been short-lived. Watching another young woman being dropped into that pit of fire, witch or not, surely did a number on Phoenix. He’d run forward to stop the insanity, after realizing what he’d just enabled, but Labyrinthia’s guards were not a force to be reckoned with. He’d been stopped instantly as Barnham had watched the Iron Maiden being lowered into the flames with a content expression. How sick-minded could one be?!

He’d never felt that depressed after a trial before.

The only thing that lifted his spirits was the fact that the professor officially offered to collaborate with him to solve the mystery of the witches in town – an offer that Phoenix simply couldn’t refuse.

Layton had saved his ass twice in court that day, and he’d find a way to pay him back, even if it was the last thing he did.

When they walked out of the witches’ court, it was sunrise, and Phoenix realized they had indeed been there all night. But before they went to the bakery, there was still something he needed to clarify, now that baking seemed like something he technically should not be able to do.

"Guess my introduction wasn't quite right, then," Phoenix said, extending his hand for the professor to shake, "The name's still Phoenix Wright, but I'm no baker. I am a defense attorney from Los Angeles, California."

"And I'm Maya Fey, his assistant!," Maya said.

Hershel politely tipped his hat after indulging Phoenix in that handshake. Now, that was more like it. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Phoenix Wright and Maya Fey. I'm Professor Hershel Layton, a professor of archaeology at Gressenheller University in London, England."

"And I'm Luke Triton, the professor's apprentice!"

Espella laughed at the re-introductions. "I suppose it would terribly impolite of me not to join in, hm? I'm Espella Cantabella, and I am...I live with Patty at the bakery,"

"Well, now that we all are, once more, formally acquainted with one another," Hershel said, "I suggest we return to the bakery for a little refuge and figure out our next course of action. Miss Eclaire must be worried sick about you, Espella."

"Yes, she probably is," Espella agreed, "Let's go, then. We have so much to talk about!"

Less than perfect cobblestone streets allowed for a fantastic collection of puddles, and Luke made sure to jump into every single relevant one he encountered. Layton shook his head as he saw the soaked socks, but decided to keep quiet. Luke deserved that childish joy—after all, he'd been trapped in this odd medieval town for so many days by now, and hadn't seen his toys or books during that time.

He seemed happy and never complained, and Layton knew that his company played no small part in that. However, that wouldn't keep the man from promising himself to find a way out as soon as physically possible.

"Hey, Luke, be careful!," Maya whined as she was splashed with water.

"Oops! I'm sorry, Miss Maya!"

"Hehehe, sorry won't cut it, kiddo!" Without warning, she jumped into the next puddle, and Layton barely escaped with a dry coat.

Phoenix wasn't as lucky. "Maya! For crying out loud, you're nineteen!"

"So? I don't see your point, Nick," she said, shrugging, and judging by Phoenix grumbling under his breath as he slapped the water drops off his sleeves, she had won this little argument.

What an odd group of people they were, Layton thought to himself.

But, as proven in court earlier that day, they were a group that could work.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

"Alright, so who's investigating what now?," Maya asked, mouth still stuffed with freshly baked bread and jam.

As expected, Patty Eclaire had greeted them with sheer relief and enthusiasm. She had hugged Espella close and thanked Phoenix about a thousand and two times for bailing her surrogate child out of trouble. Phoenix, unsure how to properly deal with that kind of praise, had merely shrugged and assured his former boss that this was no big deal, but Patty wouldn't have it. Soon, the group of five was situated around the dining table together with fresh bread, jam and steaming mugs of tea, Patty insisted that they accept this meal and refuel after that harrowing experience.

“We don’t really have a lead, do we?,” Phoenix asked, wisely having swallowed his bread first before speaking.

“No, we do not,” Layton confirmed, “For now, our best bet would likely be to look around town for any clues we may find.”

Luke tugged at Hershel’s sleeve. “Professor, do you think they have puzzles here, too?”

“Puzzles?,” Maya, Phoenix and Espella asked in unison.

Layton looked up. “Yes, puzzles. Or riddles, if you will.” He blushed a little, flustered. “In the evenings, I enjoy training my mind with these kind of exercises. Luke seemed to pick up on it after we first met. Think of it as a hobby, perhaps.”

“Whenever the professor and I go on an adventure, the people usually have tons and tons of puzzles for the professor to solve. I think they’re testing him, seeing if he’s the real deal. Like Ridelle had! We’ve had encounters with Layton impersonators quite a few times, haven’t we, professor?”

“Layton impersonators?,” Phoenix echoed, “Damn, didn’t think having someone who looks like you stepping in to mess up your cases was such a universal experience.”

“Ah, so you mean to tell me that someone once took your place behind the defense’s bench?,” Layton asked, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

“We don’t talk about it,” Phoenix mumbled, “Although I still can’t believe the judge was fooled by a cardboard badge. Tell me, does my badge look anything like a crappy piece of cardboard?!”

“I think everyone with eyes can tell it doesn’t, Nick,” Maya said, now finally having finished chewing her food.

“Right, so back to the Layton impersonators,” Phoenix said, expectantly looking at the professor. “Locals really walk around and shove, I dunno, math tasks into your face so you can prove you’re not some weirdo in Layton’s top hat?”

“It happens, yes,” Hershel said, “Albeit there’s one thing I must correct you about, Mr Wright: These aren’t always maths puzzles. In fact, more often than not, they are simply riddles requiring a little bit of logical, outside the box thinking. Allow me to demonstrate.” With that, Layton stood up from his chair.

Luke grinned. “Oh boy, you’re really in it now!”

Phoenix blinked. “What, are we gonna have to do high school math now?”

“Not maths, Mr Wright,” Hershel reminded him, walking back with three loaves of bread in his arms. He placed them next to his empty plate before carrying said plate away with a thank you to patty. Afterwards, he put the loaves next to one another on the table so they formed the number “11”. By now, everyone else had stood up to gather around Layton’s spot.

“Now, as you all probably have noticed, these two pieces of bread appear to look like an 11. Here’s my puzzle: In what way can you use the third loaf to make that number smaller than an 11?”

Phoenix put a hand to his chin in thought, almost mimicking Layton, before taking the third loaf from the professor’s hands and placing it horizontally between the two other breads. “It doesn’t really fit,” he said, sheepish, “But that’d be the most obvious solution, wouldn’t it? 1 minus 1 is zero, thus smaller than 11.”

Maya rolled her eyes. “Ugh, Nick, c’mon. You’re forgetting that this is bread, and if it doesn’t fit, you can make it fit. Here, let me.” She grabbed the loaf that Phoenix had just placed down and bit off a rather large chunk from the end.

“Miss Maya, how are you not sick of bread yet?,” Luke asked, making sure to keep his voice hushed to avoid angering Patty.

“It’s really good,” Maya only replied before placing the now shorter bread between the 11. She rubbed her hands triumphantly. “There, now that’s a proper 1 minus 1.”

But to both Phoenix’s and Maya’s confusion, Hershel only shook his head with a fond smile. “While this is most definitely a unique approach, and I command you for your thinking, I’m afraid this doesn’t quite match the puzzle text itself. Recall, if you will, what I told you to do: Make a number smaller than 11. Not an equation that equals a number smaller than 11.”

Phoenix and Maya exchanged a glance, but ultimately decided that the professor had a point. Besides, it didn’t seem to be a good idea to argue with him on the topic of puzzles, because it was Layton who clearly was the expert on that among all of them.

“However, it wasn’t wrong to make the third loaf smaller,” he added, and Maya’s triumphant grin returned.

“Ha, see! Told ya!”

“You just need to...there.” Hershel had broken off a large part of the loaf to reduce it to an about fist-sized piece of bread. He placed it between the two “1s” that made up the eleven, right at the bottom to make it look as if they were separated by a dot. “Ladies and gentlemen, I present you a number smaller than 11: 1.1.”

Phoenix, Maya and Espella's jaws dropped open.

“I hadn’t even thought of that!,” Maya gasped, “That’s genius!”

“Why, thank you, Miss Fey,” Layton said, “But these are the mere benefits of mental exercises and a little thinking. Something Barnham seemed quite unfamiliar with during the trial the other day.”

“Maybe we should let him do the bread puzzle,” Phoenix suggested, mostly as a joke. If Barnham succeeded, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to look him in the eyes again.

One minus one, he’d said.

Seemed like he still had a lot to learn before even coming close to solving Layton-level puzzles.

“Another one, please!,” Maya exclaimed, clapping her hands in excitement.

“Of course,” the professor said, “Since we’re on the topic of bread, I’m sure I can come up with something…”

Notes:

yeah i changed the solution to the puzzle. it's funnier that way

Chapter 3: Misgivings

They met at the train station.

It was no secret that London was a very crowded city, and especially so during an ordinary work day. The only reason Desmond Sycamore even paid any attention to the odd duo was because they were at a newsstand, busy staring at the large picture of his brother printed on the front page.

“Do you think that Wright’s disappearance has something to do with this?,” the man in red muttered, pointing to the headline.

The slightly taller, wider man in the green coat next to him ran a hand through his messy hair and shrugged. “I dunno, Sir. It does look although they vanished at the same time, though, so you might be onto something.”

The one in red hummed before purchasing the newspaper, skimming over the article as if to find any information.

That’s when Desmond decided to approach him. “Excuse me,” he said. The man turned his head toward him, straight, gray hair falling over his forehead. “I couldn’t help but listen in on your conversation. Do you happen to know anything about Professor Layton’s disappearance?”

The man folded the newspaper in half in order to properly face Desmond. “I’m afraid not, my sincerest apologies.”

His companion in green was tugging at his sleeve, nodding for him to walk out of the station and abandon the conversation, but the red-suited man held up his hand to stop the other.

Desmond hummed. “That’s regrettable. You see, I happen to be his brother.” He extended his hand. “Desmond Sycamore.”

“Miles Edgeworth,” the man said, taking the hand and shaking it with slight hesitation to the action, “His brother, you say?”

“Yes, I’m Layton’s older brother.”

Miles squinted. It was the man in green that spoke his thoughts aloud. “Hey, I’ve seen you before! Aren’t you that domestic terrorist that the entirety of Britain was searching for a few years ago?”

Desmond blinked, bewildered, but then sighed. “How about we focus on the things that are more important than my past?”

Unfortunately for him, Miles seemed intrigued. “Domestic terrorist? The one known as Jean Descole? Fascinating. And you’re Professor Layton’s brother?”

Desmond adjusted his glasses, them having slid down his nose. “I’m afraid so. However, if I am to interpret your conversation correctly, we have the same unanswered question. So how about we put whatever happened with Descole aside and work together?”

Edgeworth wasn’t one to jump at the chance of working with strangers. In fact, he preferred to work completely alone. The fact that he had allowed Gumshoe to accompany him to England was solely due to the detective’s insistence that he needed a proper cop at his side, and Edgeworth had figured that there wasn’t anything wrong about a trustworthy (albeit a little clumsy) policeman for some company.

But for some reason, he felt that this Sycamore would prove useful – and if Wright was indeed neck-deep in the same mess the great Professor Layton was in, it wouldn’t hurt to hear the former criminal out.

Some two months ago, the Legal League of Attorney’s had sent Edgeworth’s childhood friend and courtroom rival, Phoenix Wright, off to an exchange in Britain’s capital. Miles had have no real timeline as to when and where Phoenix had been supposed to return, but when a week ago, he was met with confused glances from the judge when a different defense attorney occupied the space usually blocked by Wright and his assistant Maya, he decided that this wouldn’t do.

The Legal League had confirmed that the visit was only supposed to last a month maximum, and a few days later, Edgeworth and Gumshoe had taken off from LAX to get to the bottom of this.

“A friend of mine has gone missing,” Edgeworth explained, putting the mug of black tea to his lips before assuring the tea shop’s waitress that everything was perfectly fine and they didn’t need more sugar in tea. He suspected she’d heard their American accent, because no Brit would ever add such an absurd amount of sugar into their sacred liquid. “I cannot say with certainty whether the timing is coincidental or not, but it appears your brother is being searched for as well.”

Desmond nodded, deep in thought. “I heard about it two weeks ago.” He set his halfway eaten biscuit down before folding his hands and resting his chin atop of them. “I must admit, it’s not exactly unusual for my brother to go missing for an oddly long amount of time. He’s famous for that kind of nonsense, and so I let it slide. But something tells me that this is not just an ordinary Layton-style adventure, and it nagged me enough to drop my work and travel here.”

“A former domestic terrorist, working and living an ordinary life?,” Gumshoe wondered aloud, and Edgeworth shot him a piercing look.

“You do not know enough about the British legal system to make these kind of comments, Detective,” he sternly said, “I advise you to cooperate with him if we ever want to locate Wright and Maya.”

“Who are you looking for again?,” Desmond asked.

“Phoenix Wright and Maya Fey. Wright is a defense attorney from Los Angeles, and Maya is his assistant. I, myself, am a prosecutor from the same area, hence why his disappearance bothers me,” Egdeworth explained, “They set off to participate in a lawyer’s exchange back in April and haven’t returned yet.”

“If I may ask, what makes you suspect this has anything to do with my brother?”

“Wright is a magnet for trouble, pal,” Gumshoe replied, “Just like the professor is. It’s just a matter of putting two and two together.”

“Yes, that sums it up,” Edgeworth nodded, before he adjusted his cravat, directing his gaze to the window. “I’m going to be frank: I rather hope that Wright is stuck with Layton. At least that would mean he has somebody capable and familiar with odd situations to bail him out if necessary. I don’t wish to speak ill of Wright, but he does possess the tendency to jump into danger and dig his own grave before thinking it through.”

Desmond smirked. “Heh, really? He and Hershel are complete opposites in that case, then.”

“I suspected as much,” Miles stated, dabbing at the corners of his mouth with a napkin after having emptied his mug of tea, “It’s only too bad that if the two of them are indeed trapped in the same mysterious, unknown place, it’s highly unlikely they are getting along.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

And again, the air smelled like rain.

Patty was thankful for the recent amounts of precipitation. Her crops were thriving, and the citizens of Labyrinthia wouldn’t have to worry about their bread for now. The rather tame temperatures made investigating a little more bearable, too, even though the only thing they found out was that they really needed to speak with the Storyteller if they were to find more answers.

Luke and Maya had tried getting his attention by waving at him during another parade, but to their dismay, that had proven to be less effective than anticipated.

The sky hadn’t cracked open that night, as Hershel stirred in his bed. He wasn’t a stranger to restless sleep, albeit something was keeping his nightmares at bay ever since he’d taken up the room in the bakery. Maybe it was the mystery that his brain was preoccupied with, but whatever it was, he wouldn’t complain.

This time, however, it wasn’t another nightly terror that caused him to wake.

The bed next to him was empty.

Any remaining sleepiness instantly faded.

Luke.

Layton swung his legs over the edge of the mattress, grabbing his coat off where it was lingering on the back of the single chair in this room and placing his hat back onto his head. Fully dressed, he slipped on his shoes and rushed downstairs.

To his surprise, the bakery was lit. A glance at the clock on the wall told him it was short past 2 in the morning – did Patty really need to wake up this early to complete all of her preparations?

Frowning, the scholar stepped further into the room, but spotted nobody.

How odd.

But maybe he should be focusing on finding Luke first and foremost.

Since he wasn’t inside, it was to be concluded that they boy had wandered out. Nothing untypical, really – he was a curious kid, and Hershel very well recalled those first few days in Misthallery and Luke’s tendency to run off without considering the adults responsible for him.

But this was different. This was a town operated by knights with sharp blades, and, as hard as it was to believe, by witches. The last thing he wanted was for Luke to be engulfed in a pillar of flames while the professor was sound asleep in his bed.

Rubbing his arms from both the night chill as well as the anxiety coursing through his veins, Hershel creaked the front door open and stepped onto the cobblestone street.

Where would he even begin to look?

Labyrinthia wasn’t big, so much was certain. But what if Luke had found is way into the woods? Gotten lost? Maybe had been taken back home on that wagon?

If that were the case, Hershel most certainly would be more happy than anything.

He only wished there’d be a way for him to find out.

Hershel was started by a voice sounding behind him. “Luke’s away too, huh?”

The archaeologist whirled around to see Phoenix Wright raising a hand to wave at him. “Oh- Mr Wright,” the professor greeted, “Sleep is eluding you?”

“It wasn’t ‘till I randomly woke up and saw that Maya wasn’t there,” the attorney replied, shrugging his shoulders. “I have no clue where she is, and I looked through the whole bakery already.”

Layton’s frown deepened. “Miss Fey has disappeared as well? That does sound concerning.”

“Eh, I dunno. I wouldn’t be too worried if she wasn’t such a magnet for trouble.”

“Ah,” Hershel said, clicking his tongue. “Her and Luke seem to have that in common, then. He has also gone missing, I’m afraid.”

A serious look flashed across Phoenix’s face as he focused his gaze on the vacant streets. The Labyrinthians were quite obviously all asleep, and the lawyer wished he was, too. But no, that assistant of his just had to disappear on him…

At least that meant he got to stare at the starry sky next to Hershel.

There was something about this moment that felt oddly serene.

Phoenix didn’t want it to end.

“Since neither of us is going back to bed until the two show up,” Phoenix began, breaking the silence, “What is the plan for tomorrow? Uh, I mean later today.”

Ah. A conversation.

Something Hershel was terrible at without it being 2 in the morning. But Phoenix had more than once made it feel easy, and the professor felt his frown relax, a small smile coming to his lips. “That is a good question, is it not? I fear that without an opportunity to meet the Storyteller and personally inquire about the situation, however, we will not be getting any further anytime soon.”

Phoenix nodded solemnly. “Yeah, I kinda figured. Nobody around here can tell us anything.”

“Indeed,” Hershel agreed, “They all appear to be on the same level of knowledge. Magic and witches exist, and they all believe in the legend of the fire, but the only proof for it that we do have are the traces of damage on the Great Archive.”

“You think the fire never happened?,” Phoenix inquired, considering the possibility.

“I can neither deny nor confirm that it ever occurred,” Hershel explained, “I’m merely attempting to piece together this puzzle by considering the different possibilities.”

“Gotcha. Kinda like what I do when I’m trying to solve a case. I find evidence, listen to testimonies and statements, and trust my brain to create a logical timeline of events – one that hopefully benefits my client’s case. That’s what I go to court with. And usually, it gets turned around two million times before the truth is revealed, but what gives. But yeah, that’s sort of the same strategy-”

He trailed off. Was the professor even listening?

“Whoops,” Phoenix rubbed the back of his neck. “Uhm, sorry. Got- got carried away there for a moment, my bad-”

“No, no,” Hershel interrupted him, “Not to worry, Mr Wright. I’ll only gladly hear about your approach to these things. It’ll help us collaborate if we know how the other’s mind works.”

“Right,” Phoenix said, albeit still mentally chastising himself. This was Professor Layton, a man far more educated and cool-headed than he’ll ever be. And Phoenix was lecturing him on investigation methods?

Laughable.

The man had expected the following quiet to feel rather awkward. Maybe Hershel would excuse himself and return inside, or, what was, if Phoenix had read the man correctly, far more likely, step outside and comb through the entirety of the town as well as the adjacent woods until he spotted his apprentice.

Nothing of the sort happened. Instead, Phoenix watched Hershel shudder through the corner of his eye as a breeze swept through the night.

This wouldn’t do.

Without thinking much of it, Phoenix wiggled himself out of his suit jacket, straightening it out before hesitantly draping it over the other man’s shoulders.

It almost swallowed him whole, but that was a good thing if he wanted to keep him warm, no?

Hershel, meanwhile, felt as if he had bluescreened.

What was Phoenix doing, abandoning his good, warm, heavy, comfortable suit jacket just for him to-

Damn, it felt like a weighted blanket. A very comfortable weighted blanket, at that. It smelled like Phoenix’s cologne that Hershel didn’t know why the lawyer still had if he had been isekai’ed here from Los Angeles, but the odor that penetrated his nostrils was one he could grow used to smelling every day.

“Thank you,” the professor managed to whisper, trying his hardest not to let it show to what an absurd degree he was flustered.

It was just a jacket.

“Hey, it’s no problem.” Phoenix grinned at him. “Can’t have the mastermind of our group turn into an icicle.”

“Please,” Hershel said, “But it’s appreciated. And for what it’s worth, I believe you are quite smart and capable in your own regard. You did successfully defend Espella, after all.”

At the mention of the witches’ court, Phoenix’s grin faltered. “That’s true, but...Kira was still cast into the flames. That’s the most devastating won trial of my whole career, as glad as I am that Espella is in no more danger.”

“I understand,” Hershel quietly added, “Something is...seriously amiss with this town.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

Another pause. It baffled both of them that there was no awkwardness whatsoever, but it was refreshing, knowing that they could work together without these weird beats of silence.

Hershel drew in a shaky breath. “I still do not see them.”

“They’ll be fine,” Phoenix insisted, “They’re both very capable, and I’m sure Luke won’t let Maya get into any trouble.”

Hershel raised an eyebrow, amused. “Are you certain this shouldn’t be the other way around?”

“Nah,” Phoenix snickered, “But I’m sure Maya will protect Luke just as much.”

Hershel’s smile faltered. “Labyrinthia is as charming as it is dangerous. I sure hope nothing happens to them.”

The lawyer was slightly surprised to see genuine fright in the professor’s eyes, but then again, what had he expected? Layton was human, too. The fact that he was smarter than all of them combined didn’t take away from that.

“I must admit, I fear for them,” the man then confessed, and Phoenix knew how to fix that.

He impulsively slung an arm around Layton’s shoulders and drew him into his side.

Hershel’s breath hitched.

What was Phoenix doing?

Warmth flooded his entire body as he felt his knees giving into the gesture. His right arm slowly came up around Phoenix’s back, inadvertently pressing closer.

It soothed his terror.

“NICK!”

In addition to them instantly pulling away, the familiar voice sent a flood of relief rushing through Phoenix’s chest. “Maya! Maya, where in the world-”

The young woman ran up to where the two men, and right behind her, struggling to keep up due to the length (or lack thereof) of his leg, was little Luke Triton, Eve in his arms.

“Nick!,” Maya panted, “Eve went missing! Luke and I went to find her!”

“In the middle of the goddamn night?!”, Phoenix barked, “What the heck were you thinking?!”

“She went missing!,” Luke insisted, who had caught up with the spirit medium by now. “We figured Espella would be real upset if she were to wake up and her cat was gone, so we needed to find her right away!”

“Now, Luke, it’s very kind of you to express such concern, but I would prefer you not disappearing at ungodly hours,” Hershel gently admonished, “I wouldn’t forgive myself if something were to happen to you.”

Luke shifted his weight from one foot to another. “I’m sorry, Professor. You’re right, I won’t do it again.”

“That’s more like it,” the archaeologist said, ruffling Luke’s hair. “Let’s go inside, shall we?”

The other three nodded, Phoenix eagerly, Maya and Luke with less enthusiasm. It was only when his apprentice stood safely on the wooden floor of the bakery that the worry in Hershel’s chest ceased – he was in no way Luke’s parent, but with the way the boy had grown on him over the course of their adventures, he might as well be, and the professor would take care of him as such.

Or was it because the air, which had felt incredibly charged during him standing with Mr Wright on that street, had lost its tension?

Luke interrupted his thoughts with an innocent question. “Wait, Professor, why do you have Mr Wright’s jacket?”

A hot flash crashed over him as he realized that the blue piece of cloth was still loosely hanging on his shoulders.

It terrified him how quickly he’d become used to it being there.

“Uhm, well-”

“It was a little chilly,” Phoenix said, springing to his rescue, “Couldn’t let your mentor freeze to death, now could I?”

Luke nodded, acknowledging the explanation. Hershel felt like covering his face with his hat, but that would mean taking it off, and there was no way he’d do that.

“I should have considered your own comfort, Mr Wright,” he instead settled for, “My apologies. I wouldn’t want you to end up cold on my behalf, after all.”

“Hey, you’re good, no worries,” Phoenix simply waved him off before Maya raised a finger.

“Oh, that reminds me! While we were looking for Eve, we met this woman we saw at the parade the other day! The one with purple hair?”

Phoenix squinted, attempting to think back to that moment. Indeed, they had seen a woman riding on the wagon, right in front of the throne the storyteller himself had been situated in.

“You mean the one with the burgundy cloak?,” the attorney asked.

“Yeah!”

“Hmm,” Hershel hummed in thought, “What about her, Miss Fey?”

“She’s the High Inquisitor, Darklaw, and claims to know just as much as the Storyteller does!”

Phoenix and Layton exchanged a glance.

Well, if that wasn’t valuable information!

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Phoenix hadn’t wanted to return to the witches’ court that soon.

Well, technically quite a few weeks had passed by now, so that complaint felt invalid. Maybe a rephrasing was in order.

He hadn’t wanted to return to the witches’ court ever.

It made sense that the office of the High Inquisitor would be located in Labyrinthia’s Hall Of Justice, albeit it was debatable whether an institution like this could be labeled a hall of justice with a clear conscience. A lot of the things Phoenix, as a lawyer, had witnessed in that hall hadn’t have an inkling to do with justice, and the mere thought of stepping through these doors disgusted him.

Oh, how he yearned to return to the courtroom in Los Angeles. To face off against Edgeworth, or get whipped by Franziska, or even get hot coffee thrown into his face should Godot miraculously make a comeback. To explain technological devices to their bubbly judge.

Anything better than fight for his clients with the fact nagging at him that the one deemed guilty, whether it was his client or not, would be condemned to a brutal death.

The only thing soothing him this instance was the fact that they were not entering the building to argue in a courtroom.

Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to do that ever again.

“Are we sure we’re allowed in here?,” Maya whispered.

“My bet’s on “no”,” Phoenix scoffed, “But it isn’t like we have a choice.”

They’d left Espella at the bakery despite her vivid protests. After what had nearly happened the last time, they didn’t want to see her close to that pit of fire ever again, and after what felt like at least half an hour of debating, she’d understood their point of view and agreed to lay low. She’d wanted to try out a new cake recipe anyway, she’d told them, and waved them goodbye after wishing them the best of luck.

Phoenix felt like they were going to need it.

“I must agree with Mr Wright,” Hershel said, and Phoenix loved it when Hershel agreed with him, “I highly doubt we are permitted to enter and exit as we please, but in this instance, our entire mission relies on us gaining access to more facts. And if High Inquisitor Darklaw can help with that, it is invaluable that we consult her as soon as possible.”

The inquisitor's office was located down the hallway from the defendant’s lobby. Not that it was called defendant’s lobby in this twisted town, but for the lack of a better term, Phoenix chose to refer to it as such. The group stayed eerily silent as they moved down the corridor, eyes fixated on the torches on the wall as Maya did everything in her power to avoid her hair catching on fire.

Finally, as they stood in front of the door, nobody dared to knock.

Hershel had figured that responsibility would fall onto him.

He knocked thrice.

Barnham opened. He’d discarded his helmet and cloak, just as in the courtroom. His hair seemed slightly damp, as if he’d just given it a wash. His eyebrows furrowed the instant he saw the odd quartet standing in front of the door to his office, of all places.

“What in the world-”

“Good day, Inquisitor Barnham,” Hershel spoke with a tip of his hat, “I do hope we’re not intruding.”

“You are!,” the knight scoffed, “But you lot are also the first ones to ever intrude on us, so I find myself willing to hear you out.” He pulled the door open. “Please, come inside.”

“That’s most kind of you,” Hershel said.

The other three followed behind, each and every one of them unsure in their steps. The professor could understand why – the High Inquisitor, admittedly, did seem a little intimidating, with her piercing, teal eyes and the stern face as she stood in front of a statue located in the back of the room.

Barnham was honestly harmless whenever he didn’t have his hand on his sword.

A rather high-pitched bark interrupted their racing thoughts.

Phoenix looked down to see a small, fluffy dog circling his legs. The animal was gritting its teeth, seemingly just waiting for the right moment to tear a hole into Phoenix’s precious blue pants. The attorney stood frozen, afraid to make a single wrong movement.

Maya, on the other hand, was thrilled, and the ice in the room broke. “Oh my god, a doggo! Nick, look at it, it’s so cute!” She knelt down to pet it, and the dog immediately started wiggling his tail once it had focused on Maya rather than Phoenix. “Aren’t you a good dog?”

Barnham showed the smallest inkling of a smile. “That is Constantine. He is a most loyal dog a knight can ask for.”

“Wait, he’s yours?!,” Phoenix asked, “Guess that explains the little helmet he wears. A-anyway, could you tell him not to bite me? Please?”

Barnham raised an eyebrow. “No. He does as he pleases.”

“Oh, come on!”

“Inquisitor Barnham,” Hershel spoke in an attempt to steer them back on topic, “If it’s possible, we would like to speak with the High Inquisitor.”

The serious expression returned to Barnham’s face. “Hmpf. What reasons could you possibly have to want to speak with her?”

“I will decide myself whether their reasons warrant my attention,” a sharp female voice cut in, and it was then that they realized that Darklaw had spoken up, “You may go, Barnham. Didn’t you wish to investigate a house?”

“Yes, Milady,” Barnham said, and it was quite refreshing to see Barnham shot down for once.

The inquisitor left the room, and the atmosphere froze right back up when Constantine trotted behind him.

“So,” Darklaw spoke, “What is it that you wished to talk to me about?”

Heads turned to Hershel, and the professor smiled. He’d expected to have to take over the talking, as always. “We are certainly not experts when it comes to the Great Witch Bezella. Could you perhaps tell us more about this particular witch?”

When Darklaw didn’t reply at first, Hershel nudged her with, “To begin with, is the Great Witch not just a figure of legend?”

“The Great Witch Bezella does exist”, the High Inquisitor finally said, “That is a fact accepted by all of the townsfolk. In the past, the Great Witch Bezella used her evil power to burn the entire town.”

“Professor, we saw that witch in the picture in the library!,” Luke exclaimed, “She was burning the town!”

“If the Great Witch Bezella uses her powers, this town could burn again as it did long ago. We have to capture Bezella before that can happen. And I’m delighted to inform you that we have made significant progress on that matter.”

Hershel raised an eyebrow. “Have you?”

“Yes. The person suspected of being Bezella is none other than Espella Cantabella.”

Imaginary thunder rang through the room.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

When they returned to the bakery after a sprint they could have broken an Olympic record with, Espella was gone.

Patty, in tears, explained that a group of inquisitors had barged in and taken her with them so she could undergo questioning. She’d only be allowed to see her in a week, if at all, and she’d already had multiple pranksters knock on her door and hurl insults at her for siding with someone who was the suspected Great Witch, whether it was her daughter or not. Maya had hugged the woman while Phoenix had declared he’d be defending Espella in whatever trial she’d end up in.

He’d do anything in his power to make sure Espella got off scot-free, as she deserved!

When the knights of the inquisition finally knocked on the bakery’s door seven days later, Patty wasn’t home. The group felt slightly bad for leaving without even passing on the information that Espella was now allowed to have visitors, but it was urgent.

This mess was getting far too complex, and if they didn’t get a lead soon, they would lose track of the situation as a whole, and they couldn’t afford that.

They followed the knights to a place referred to as Deathknell Dungeon, which already sounded promising in itself. To think that that Espella was being held captive there made everything ten times worse, but confirmed that this town had zero mercy.

“Ah! Mr Layton, Mr Wright!,” Espella's voice called out.

She looked tired. Tired, malnourished, and worn thin. They didn’t even want to ask what kind of questions they had been pestering her with, but they had to in order to be able to help her, and Phoenix hated that it’d had come to this.

If only they’d been there when the knights had come for her!

At least they’d managed to snatch a loaf of bread.

“Espella!,” Maya gasped upon seeing their friend.

“So this is the Deathknell Dungeon,” Phoenix muttered to himself, “Looks more like solitary confinement to me.”

“Don’t worry,” Espella instantly assured them, “I’m fine, really. I was a little surprised at how hard the bed was, though.”

Phoenix’s eyebrows creased with worry. “Espella…”

“We brought something for you,” Luke piped up, “Miss Patty made it. Look, its her special walnut bread. You should try it!”

“Thank you, Luke,” Espella said, accepting the bread through the bars.

“We’ll get you home soon, then we can all sit down and eat Patty’s freshly baked bread together!,” Maya said, determined.

“Yes, indeed,” Hershel agreed, “Not to worry, Espella. We’re going to have you out of here soon.”

The girl looked down, dejected. “But are you sure you want to do that?”

“What are you talking about, Espella?,” Phoenix asked.

“Do you really want to continue defending me, Mr Wright?,” she repeated, the look in her eyes now more fierce than anything.

“What? Of course I do! What makes you say that?!”

“You all do know what I’ve been charged with, do you?”

“Certainly,” Layton replied, “They’re accusing you of being Bezella, the source of all witches here in Labyrinthia.”

Espella nodded. “That’s right. And anyone who defends such a suspect will also come under suspicion themselves. People are likely to criticize you and make you suffer, all an my account. I can’t ask you to defend me under these circumstances!”

A pause.

Phoenix crossed his arms. “Listen to me, Espella. It’s bad enough that you’re in this prison at all. Do you honestly think we’d just stand around doing nothing?”

“But, Mr Wright-”

“Mr Wright is absolutely correct,” Layton interrupted her, “We are not about to abandon you simply because of opinions of others. Mr Wright, Miss Fey, Luke and myself are all on your side, and we will do everything we can do get you acquitted.”

“Thank you, Mr Layton,” Espella said, and the group was relieved to see some light return to her eyes, “You and Mr Wright, it’s like you were working magic together?”

Both men flushed red at her words. Sure, they’d realized they worked well when collaborating, but- magic?

“Ahem, well, that settles it then, Espella,” Phoenix quickly said, “And don’t worry, we’re going to be there for you – we’ll fight until the very end. Maya, the professor, Luke and me, we’ll all be working together on this thing, and we won’t let you down!”

“Yes,” Espella breathed. She suddenly went quiet. “But...there is just one problem that might get in you way. You see...I am the Storyteller’s daughter.”

“What?!”, all four exclaimed in unison.

“When I first came down into the town, everyone was friendly. Perhaps they thought that if they got to know me, things would go well for them. That was the impression they had.”

“Ah, because they figured if they were to get onto your good side, you would be able to ask your father to write them a favorable story?,” Layton inquired.

“Yes,” the girl confirmed, “But things didn’t work out the way people hoped they would. One day, someone just happened to to bump into me in the town, and I was knocked over. Later that night, that same person was attacked by a witch and killed by her magic. I don’t know whether it was just a coincidence or not, but after that, everyone’s attitude towards me changed. They started saying things like, “it’s best to keep away from her, or you’ll have a bad story written about you”, all because I’m the Storyteller’s daughter.”

Dang, that was news.

It was expected that people were to act that way, but that didn’t make it any better.

But Espella being the storyteller’s daughter was another twist neither of them had anticipated.

That distorted quite a lot of things, didn’t it? Why would the Storyteller accuse his own daughter of being the Great Witch, and put her in so much danger? Was this a part of some more elaborate scheme that they had yet to see through?

“Would you- would you mind if we asked you some more questions about all of this?,” Phoenix asked, and Espella nodded. “Okay, cool. This is- this is maybe not easy to answer, but why are you not living with the Storyteller, I mean, with your father?”

She explained that shed lived with him before; in the tower on the edge of Labyrinthia. When she’d been little, the Storyteller used to be very kind, and listened to her. But as the town grew and he had more stories to write, he’d grown distant – distant enough for Espella to eventually become fed up and leave the tower. Patty Eclaire found her, and Espella started to help out at the bakery, suppressing all about her father. When the memories eventually resurfaced due to her becoming ostracized, Patty was the only one sticking up for her.

Shit.

"Don't worry about it, Espella," Phoenix said, determination clearly audible in his voice, "You are not Bezella. I will defend you. And I give you my word that I'll do everything I can to make sure you walk out not guilty, got it?"

"Yes," the girl breathed, "Thank you, Mr Wright. Thank you so much."

A lopsided grin appeared on the attorney's face. "Just doing my job."

Hershel's heart did a funny little flip.

What?

Just anxiety, perhaps.

"Alright," Phoenix said, "Let's get out of here. Sorry, Espella, but I'm afraid we're gonna have to leave you alone for now. We've got stuff to investigate."

"Yes, yes, of course," Espella said, "I completely understand. I believe in you, and again, thank you from the bottom of my heart."

The group exited the dungeon, and when their faces were finally hit by the warm sun rays, they all let out a collective exhale that none of them realized they'd been holding in.

Phoenix was the first to speak. "That place is brutal. It's so damp and cold. How can they get away with this?"

"Medieval prisons often looked akin to what we've just seen, unfortunately," Layton explained, hoping to distract himself from the way his stomach flipped as he saw the genuine concern in Phoenix's eyes. That man was so determined and loyal, and defended to fiercely, it was almost enchan-

No, Hershel. No.

He shook himself as if to get rid of these unnecessary feelings. He couldn't let anything get in the way of their mission.

They had a puzzle to solve.

"Medieval, huh," Phoenix repeated, "And I got away with baking in a tailored suit for, what, a month? A week?"

"Nobody knows how long we've actually been here," Maya thought aloud, "We thought it was five years, but turns out our memories are bogus. But hey, at least we don't seem to have aged, so it couldn't have been that long, right?"

"At least one spark of hope to hang onto in this cruel, cruel world," Phoenix agreed, "Yes, I'm being dramatic on purpose."

He paused.

"The Legal League of Attorneys probably hates my guts. I used their money to get into England and proceeded to get abducted by a book instead of actually doing something useful with their funding."

Hershel couldn't help it—he laughed. Laughed at such a remark.

He couldn't believe it.

"Well, Mr Wright, I hardly believe that any of this can be attributed to your actions. The Legal League of Attorneys can't possibly hold your kidnapping against you. It's not like you're here of your own account."

"Yeah," Luke added, "You can't help being kidnapped."

"Thanks, guys," Phoenix grinned, "That kinda helps. If anything, I'm gonna ask for my flight money back, because that's what I had to pay for myself."

"No planes out of Labyrinthia, I take it?," Maya questioned, looking disappointed when the rest of the group shook their heads.

Phoenix made a face. "This place doesn't even have proper plumbing, and you're asking about planes?"

“A girl can dream, Nick,” his assistant pouted.

And dreaming was something they all did – albeit planes were not exactly their priority at the moment.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Patty enlightened them about an unresolved incident.

Newton Belduke, the town’s alchemist, had died roundabout half a year ago. His death had been instantly attributed to magic, as almost every death in this town was. However, the witch responsible had never been found, and a concrete spell that was used had never been bookmarked in the Grand Grimoire.

Was it linked to what they were looking into? Who knew. But it was worth investigating nevertheless – any clue to Bezella would help them prove Espella’s innocence.

And so, at dawn the next day, Phoenix, Hershel, Luke and Maya set out to visit the residence of the late Newton Belduke.

Of course, the inquisition got in their way.

“Sir Top Hat!,” one of the knights called, and Hershel couldn’t deny that his heart dropped for a moment as he heard his name.

Well, it wasn’t really his name, but there really could only be one they meant.

“Yes? That would be me.”

“The Storyteller has requested you visit him in the Audience Room,” the knight said, “He’s awaiting you within the next hour.”

“Within the next hour?!,” Phoenix couldn’t help but ask.

The knight ignored him. “It is advised you do not keep him waiting for too long. The entrance is via the knight’s garrison. See you there, Sir Top Hat.”

The knight left, and Phoenix stood there, slack-jawed. “Hey, what the hell?!”

“I suppose that throws a wrench into our plans,” Hershel said, pulling his hat into his face, “Not that I am not thrilled about an opportunity of this kind, I cannot help but wonder why he would have requested me.”

“You’re not a witch, are you?,” Maya asked.

“Ha ha, oh no, Miss Fey,” Hershel said, “If that were the case, they surely would have tried me in the Witches’ court.”

“Besides, Maya, can’t only women be witches?,” Phoenix wondered.

“Eh,” his assistant simply said.

“Well then,” Hershel said, “I’d much rather take a look at the alchemist’s home myself, but it seems like Luke and I have more urgent matters to attend to. If you excuse us, Mr Wright, Miss Fey.”

The formality in Hershel’s tone left Phoenix feeling a little beside himself.

He’d think that after so much time spent together, after so many things they’d gone through together, the professor could let down the walls that Phoenix knew he had. But then again, he had them up against Luke as well, and those two had likely known each other for years prior to this.

He shouldn’t be taking it personally.

Not that Hershel didn’t feel significant disappointment as he and Luke set off towards the garrison. It had been quite nice to investigate this town together with a capable partner at his side. Mr Wright was observant and clever, and four eyes saw more than two, and eight eyes saw more than four.

But the Storyteller wanted to see him, and the professor had questions to ask.

Plenty of them, at that.

Luke didn’t say much as they navigated through the streets of Labyrinthia. The knight’s garrison was adjacent to the Great Archive, and his apprentice had to stop the professor from walking in and asking Ridelle for more puzzles.

It was clear that Layton felt at least a little stress over the entire situation, but Luke wanted to do his best to distract him.

Even if it was so they could reunite with their group sooner than not.

The boy understood. They’d rarely been away for so long. His parents were likely not concerned – the longest he’d ever been with the professor was around half a year, back when they had done a journey around the world on the airship together with a fellow archaeologist, Desmond Sycamore, who had turned out to he Descole – and Hershel’s brother on top of that. Luke hadn’t come to any harm, since the professor was such a fierce protector. Okay, fine, he was refusing to acknowledge the fact that if it hadn’t been for Aurora, he would have been dead, but that was beside the point.

And this was just one strange town. A town they had no idea about where it was, and how on Earth they even got here. Surely “being sucked through a book” wasn’t a reasonable explanation for any of this, was it?

Walking through the knight’s garrison, and solving a conflict while they were at it, because the professor just couldn’t leave someone in need of help, took quite a bit of their time, but any words they could have said became stuck in their throat once they reached the audience room.

As expected, it was large. Massive, even.

Windows stretched out from floor to ceiling, intricate patterns and swivels decorating them. Burgundy curtains made out of a thick, shiny fabric fell from each side of the wall, able to block any light if necessary. In the middle of a platform, which was raised against a wall, stood a majestic throne. Aside from the red carpet that lead the way to the very same throne, the room wasn’t furnished.

It seemed cold.

If it wasn’t for the yellow stained glass that was part of the window and shaped exactly like the sun-and-moon mural they’d discovered in the library, they’d almost describe the environment as soulless and intimidating.

None of the candles were lit. That was understandable – it was the middle of the day, and the skies were mostly clear. Plenty of sun rays were filtering through the glass windows. The Storyteller himself had his back turned to them, staring outside as if not even noticing their presence.

Both Luke and Hershel knew that he was well aware they were in the room.

“I’ve been waiting for you, Hershel Layton,” the man’s cold voice rang out, and Hershel almost froze.

But he had to keep it together.

“I believe I should say, it is an honor, Mr Storyteller,” the scholar spoke.

“You’re the creator of Labyrinthia!,” Luke gasped in awe, “But why did you call the professor here?”

“I have summoned you so that I may ask…” The town’s leader finally turned around. The owl that had been sitting on his shoulder made its escape, returning to its designated golden cage in the corner of the room. “...Why you are here?”

Not what the professor had expected. “I beg your pardon?”

“Wh-what are you talking about?,” Luke inquired.

“In writing the story, I provide everything,” the Storyteller explained, “And in turn, take everything away. I give each person a story, and weave their intertwining webs of fate. However, it would appear that interlopers have found their way into the story.” The green jewel in his one-sided face mask glimmered. “The two of you.”

Hm.

That was new.

“You mean to say that my presence here was not written in your story?”

“Precisely.” The Storyteller moved towards his throne, taking a seat. Luke wondered if now was the time to bow – the man acted like a king rather than simply a “creator”. “And so, I must ask you...exactly how did you find your way into this world?”

“In truth, we found ourselves here somewhat inadvertently. We were brought here by a book – a book called the Historia Labyrinthia,” Hershel elaborated, heart thumping in his chest. Did the storyteller…

...Not know?

The only comment the man in front of them gave was a low “hmm”.

“I am led to believe it was you who wrote that book,” Layton continued, “Surely you cannot deny it.”

The Storyteller scoffed. “It would appear I have found it – the source of the corruption within my story.”

Luke shuffled to stand closer to Layton, the snarky tone in the Storyteller’s voice throwing him off. “Corruption?”

Layton shielded the boy with his arm, not breaking eye contact with the man before them. “In other words, you consider our presence to be a hindrance to your story, is that correct?”

“Not only you. There was another man who tried to change the course of my story.”

Of course – Carmine Accidenti, the reason why they were here in the first place. The core in all of it, the one who’d led Espella to his office.

“You mean Carmine Accidenti?,” Luke asked.

“Carmine,” the Storyteller growled, and Luke instantly crouched. Had he said something wrong? “So, there is a connection between him and the two of you after all.”

The man sighed, a rattled sigh, ridden with frustration and anger. Layton had imagined that they weren’t exactly pleasing the Storyteller by messing with his witch trials and the system he’d established, but the man was about to put his own daughter to death! Surely, that warranted intervention, did it not?

“Your presence here is, shall I say...a slight inconvenience. The story of Labyrinthia was about to take a turn towards its grand finale,” the man then said.

“Grand finale?,” Hershel repeated.

“Indeed. A conclusion that requires a climax of epic proportions. The identity of the Great Witch Bezella is made public. She is tried in the court and, finally, destroyed. At last, peace will be restored to the town...the final scenario is close at hand.”

Luke had paled at least two shades. “The- the identity of the Great Witch? Do you mean…?”

No reaction. Not even a scowl.

The Storyteller knew what he was doing.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Phoenix wasn’t interested in anything Maya was babbling about.

He was sure he heard her ramble about burgers, about ramen, and maybe, if he was very, very lucky, something other than food. He could get behind it – they hadn’t had civilized meals in ages, and he did miss a good portion of fries.

But god, he wished Maya would shut up.

He hated himself for it. Maya was his best friend, and he enjoyed listening to her talk. Be it some nonsense or not, she was fun to spend time with, and there was nobody he’d rather be on this wild adventure with.

He’d be doing better if he actually had an idea about where they were going with any of this.

The alchemist’s house wasn’t hard to find. Almost every local had have some business there before, as they had learned that in addition of being an alchemist, Newton Belduke had been well-versed in medicine and homemade remedies. Quite a relief for a town such as this one, Phoenix supposed – somehow, he doubted that there was anything akin to a hospital around here.

He made a mental note not to catch a virus, because he’d likely most certainly die if he did.

Goddammit, he hated medieval Europe.

The house was tucked away midst of bushes and pine trees. Moss and other grasses were crawling up its walls, making it seem even more enchanting than it already was. A lonely mailbox stood by its side, with around a dozen of vases containing various herbs scattered around the front yard.

“My sincerest apologies,” someone suddenly said, “I’m afraid medicaments are no longer being provided here.”

“Huh?,” Phoenix instinctively let out, attempting to determine the source of the voice.

A young man had stepped out the door. He had teal hair with bangs, and wore a striking amethyst attached to his neck. The remainder of his clothes seemed rather simple – perhaps an apprentice of some kind?

“Did you not come here for medicaments of some kind?,” the young man asked.

It almost pained Phoenix to deny the accusation. “Uhm, no, we...we didn’t come here for that. We’re here to investigate the incident – the one involving Sir Belduke.”

The young man raised his eyebrow, suspicious. Probably rightfully so. “Forgive me if I’m mistaken, but you do not look like knights of the inquisition.”

“I’m Phoenix Wright, attorney at law.” Never mind that a position such as “attorney” likely didn’t exist in this town, if every witch before Espella was declared guilty in an instant anyways. “And you? I’m guessing you live here?”

“Indeed. My name is Jean Greyerl. I was butler to the late Master Belduke.”

“Wow, a butler!,” Maya exclaimed, and Phoenix wished she’d keep her volume down, “This must be my first time meeting a real one!”

The lawyer decided that now was a good time to interrupt her before she went off the rails on a tangent that neither him nor poor Jean was likely interested in. “Well, Mr Greyerl, if you don’t mind...Uhm, I’ve been told that the incident involving your master was shrouded in mystery. Has it got something to do with the Great Witch Bezella? We’re trying to investigate that at the moment.”

Jean blinked. “The Great Witch...Bezella? Am I right in supposing that you are...defending Espella Cantabella?”

Phoenix flinched. He should have known that the entire town knew by now – knew that this poor, innocent girl had been convicted under the suspicion of being a witch. It baffled him with how much ease everyone believed it.

Aware that he’d likely blow his chance to investigate the alchemist’s residence by admitting to it, Phoenix rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, actually...Yes. Yes, we are. So you know Espella, do you?”

“That goes without saying,” Jean replied, “Everyone around here knows her.”

Maya clapped her hands. “Do you think you can help us? We’re looking for ideas!”

Jean looked solemn, and Phoenix wondered whether he or Maya had unintentionally struck a nerve. Mentally preparing themselves for being rejected and told to burn themselves or something because they were defending the supposed vile witch, Phoenix opened his mouth to speak a haste “goodbye”, but Jean came forth.

“While he was alive, the master taught me the value of investigating the truth that governs the natural world. If you, too, are investigating the truth, then it would be against his teachings for me not to cooperate with you. Would you both like to come in? We can discuss this matter further, inside.”

Phoenix shot Maya a look. She looked serious, a rare occurrence, and that’s how the attorney could be sure that she was completely on his side.

The man nodded. “That would be great. Thank you, Mr Greyerl.”

They entered the house. The wall they saw was just as green as the herbs in the vases in front of the home. Phoenix found it an odd color to pick for a wall, but decided to pay it no mind for now.

The alchemist’s study, where the incident had taken place, was off-limits to them. A bummer, really – how else were they supposed to look around now?

When Jean mentioned the sudden appearance of the bell tower, however, it became evident that it was connected to whatever had happened to Newton Belduke six months ago. It took a bit of convincing, and Jean insisted he accompany them, but eventually, they were allowed to enter the study.

Be it the alchemist’s circle on the floor, the weird powder adjacent to it, and a painting on the green splutter on the wall – why was it green, too? - nothing led them to any clues concerning Bezella.

“Dammit!,” Phoenix couldn’t help but curse, “That way we’ll never be able to defend Espella properly.”

Jean didn’t meet his eyes.

If Phoenix were to think about it, he would have instantly picked up on the butler’s conspicuous behavior. Jean was providing short answers to any questions they might have, actively avoiding, perhaps even denying anything that Phoenix wanted to connect to the Great Witch. It couldn’t always be the butler, right? They weren’t in a corny crime novel!

Still, it was worth pursuing an answer. “Oh, uh...Mr Greyerl?”

“Yes?,” the butler spoke, “What is it?”

Phoenix grabbed his tie between his fingers, wiggling it around to adjust its position. “Sorry for being so blunt, but you seem sort of uneasy. Anything on your mind?”

“It’s just…” A pause. “Are you really planning to defend Espella?”

“Yes,” Phoenix replied, zero hesitation in his voice, “I firmly believe she is innocent, and planning to prove her as such. Why?”

“You see, about- about the incident six months ago. The one Newton Belduke was killed in.”

The lawyer raised an eyebrow. “Yes…?”

His stomach twisted into knots. He had a terrible feeling about where this was going.

“They believe a witch summoned familiars and let them strangle him, but truth is...it was I. I strangled him. Because – because he was going to expose to the Storyteller that I- that I was a witch.”

What?!

Phoenix had a hard time finding his voice. “You-? But you’re a-”

Jean let down his – her? - hair, the teal now falling to the butler’s waist. “I am a girl.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

It wasn’t pretty; now being certain of the fact that the Storyteller intentionally was trying to convict his own daughter.

A small flicker of hope was still present – maybe the man had intended for someone else to be the culprit after all, and Espella was mistaken for them. But Hershel had a dreadful sensation that this flicker of hope, this little flame, would soon die out – and they’d be faced with the ugly truth.

At least he could keep denying it for now.

“The Great Witch Bezella...will be tried in the court?,” Luke asked, arms crossed.

“That will be Labyrinthia’s final chapter,” the Storyteller replied after nodding, “A fitting end for a town ruled by witches and their magic.”

“Am I to believe that this final chapter has already begun?,” Hershel questioned, trying and failing to keep the shakiness out of his speech.

“That is correct. And there is no way you can possibly change its final outcome.”

Really, now?, Hershel thought.

He wasn’t one to be so easily defeated.

“I wonder about that,” he retorted, “You see, I gave my word to a young lady. I promised that without fail, I would be able to rescue her. If I’m not mistaken, the Great Witch trial is scheduled to begin in six months – the same day on which you will hold the month’s parade.” Oh, how I wish I won’t be here by then. “I believe that should give us sufficient time to show you what we can do.”

The Storyteller laughed. It was an unpleasant laugh, one typical for storybook or movie villains. It didn’t reassure Hershel. “Such a smug countenance. I find it...intolerable.”

Luke had hidden behind him again as Hershel swallowed. “I beg your pardon?”

“Six months from now, you say? I’m afraid that information is out of date, Hershel Layton.”

“Out of date? What do you mean?”

“My parade will be held in three months,” the man declared, “According to the amended story.”

“What?!,” Luke exclaimed, “In three months?! That’s half the time! And that’s no fair!”

Again with that chilling laugh. “Now that’s the kind of countenance I want from the characters in my story!”

“Wh-what?”

“That’s what I do, didn’t you know? I decide the fate of characters who have no knowledge of their future. It would appear that you are not yet fully aware of the gravity of the situation. Let me see now...Just for fun, I shall write you a little story. A story full of surprises and a few tears...I shall enjoy seeing the emotions of the characters as they play their parts.”

Luke’s eyes widened. “A story...for us?”

“Stories are a fixture of this town. You would be wise to embrace them. Let’s see...I think we need a stimulating incident. We shall have a witch, some witchcraft, that comrade of yours...and perhaps a little death.”

Hershel's blood ran cold.

What was that man talking about? Surely he couldn't mean…

The professor thought about Phoenix. The attorney was probably absorbed in his investigation, and passionate as he was, he wouldn't call it quits until he'd discovered something relevant. He'd probably found an important relic, and was inspecting it with one of his rather unique eyebrows raised. He was turning it in his large palms, warming it with his body heat.

And the Storyteller was planning to put an end to a life such as Phoenix's?

Layton’s heart bled at the mere conjecture.

“You can't,” the professor breathed, a sense of fear and grief washing over him that he couldn't possibly explain.

“Oh, I very well can,” the Storyteller countered, “How about this: A man from afar falls to a golden curse…” Hershel shuddered with a sudden chill when feather met parchment, and the words were being written in pitch-black ink, the noise caused by the action sending goosebumps down Layton’s arms. “...and a woman from afar calls out in grief.”

“Professor?,” Luke anxiously asked, tugging at his mentor's sleeve. “What does that mean?”

Hershel clenched his teeth, his eyebrows forming a “V”, his icy gaze directed at the author in front of him. “I'm not quite sure, my boy.”

His vision blurred.

Why did his vision blur?!

He swallowed down the tears. “But it can't be anything good.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

He’d promised Jean he wouldn’t turn her in before disappearing into the basement.

Sure, that girl was probably a murderer. She’d admitted to having strangled her master, and while she was severely ashamed of it, she’d claimed it was to protect herself, and Phoenix could get behind that line of reasoning.

Nobody wanted to be put to death by fire, witch or not.

Maya found it rather fascinating. As a spirit medium, magic and the fantastical were part of her daily life, and she’d poked holes into Jean with all the questions she’d asked following Phoenix’s departure into the cellar. As Jean excused herself, possibly to collect some more herbs, Maya almost got bored – that is, until the door was thrown open, and a very frantic-looking professor burst into the room.

“Miss Fey!”

Maya turned to face him, her eyes widening slightly in surprise. “Oh, hey Professor!” Her look switched to concern. “What's up? You look flushed!”

That comment only serve to make him blush further. Was his anger at the Storyteller that obvious? There was no way that redness could be attributed to whatever made his stomach fill with butterflies and his heart race whenever a certain blue-suited man entered the scene, no.

Ridiculous!

But he had more important things to take care of. “Miss Fey, where's Mr Wright?”

“Oh, Nick? He's down in the basement, investigating.”

The basement?! Damn it, something could already have happened to him without them even noticing!

If there was one thing that Hershel was sure he wouldn't forgive himself for, it was the possibility of Phoenix falling victim to some wicked curse and him not being able to stop it.

“We need to get him out, immediately!,” Layton urged, panic visible in his eyes.

“Huh?”

“No time to explain,” Hershel said, “I'll tell you later. It's safer if we're all in one place.”

“I don't understand.”

Argh!

“As things stand, Mr Wright is in serious danger!”

The girl clasped a hand to her mouth. “Nick’s in danger?! What do you mean?”

“I have reasons to believe a witch will appear here soon!”

“A witch?,” Maya gasped.

Just then, the room darkened. A shadow appeared, as if arising from the purple flames now having engulfed the alchemist’s circle on the wooden floor. Maya let out a scream, and as he’d do with Luke, Hershel stretched out an arm to shield her.

“All is as written in the story,” the witch said, her ominous voice echoing in the room.

“Do you happen to be the Great Witch Bezella?,” Hershel dared to ask.

“Concern yourselves not with who I am, but rather...with what you will now become.”

It was a female’s scream that followed that lead Phoenix to leave the basement. Probably Maya, being spooked by some spider on the wall, but Phoenix had a spider killing duty, and so, fine, he’d go upstairs.

He didn’t expect to be met with Professor Layton, body fully made out of shiny, shimmering gold.

He tore his eyes wide open. “What the-”

Layton’s golden form plummeted to the ground, pointing arm snapping off, and Phoenix felt his stomach drop.

What in the world had just happened?!

“It- it wasn’t me!,” a familiar voice pleaded, and only then did Phoenix’s vision clear enough to make out Maya, standing right behind the fallen statue, arms in front of her body as if to shield herself from some kind of danger.

She’s gonna be framed. She’s gonna be framed for freaking witchcraft and there isn’t anything you can do about it.

Phoenix gulped. He turned his head to see a group of people in the doorway, and his heart sank even further when he made out Luke, the little boy’s eyes wide in shock and knees trembling. How must this look for him? His own mentor!

As the lawyer had suspected, the knights of the inquisition weren’t far. A second later, they stormed the house, Barnham himself in the lead.

“What do we have here,” he muttered, squinting at Maya in a way that made Phoenix want to punch him. He knew that this wasn’t a wise line of action if he wanted to stay out of trouble, and so he kept to himself. “Knights! Arrest this witch this instant!”

“Nick?,” Maya breathed.

“Maya!,” Phoenix called, but his trusted assistant was led out the door.

Leaving him alone with Luke, the other three people, and the rigid body of the man he’d come to…

Need.

Was that the right word?

Chapter 4: The Darkness Within

Notes:

today's prompt: free day!

The bakery was dead silent.

Phoenix shifted in his bed, it suddenly feeling way too soft and warm for him. This was silly, knowing he'd spent the past few months getting the best sleep of his life in this very bed.

But he hated being covered by fluffy sheets while Maya, who should have been occupying the second bed on the other side of the room, was huddled in a damp, cold, hard corner in the damn dungeon.

Barnham could piss off for all Phoenix cared.

Sighing, he turned around to face the wall. The wood used for the construction of this house made even the wall inviting, and he groaned in misery as he turned around again.

He'd defend Maya in court, naturally, but those assholes of inquisitors wouldn't even let him investigate the crime scene. It was strictly off-limits, they'd said, even for an attorney like him. Seeing as the house had been the stage for witchcraft twice within six months, nobody aside from Barnham and Darklaw were allowed in.

Phoenix was sure this whole system was rigged and biased to the core, but unfortunately, there was nothing he could do to lift their ban.

All he could do was count on the evidence he'd collected on the day of the incident. In other words, nothing.

It amazed him that a week had already passed since then.

A week since Layton had-

Phoenix gulped. He didn't want to use that word when referring to Hershel. He refused to use that word.

But the professor had died.

And Luke Triton truly was a trooper.

The entire past 6 days, the boy hadn't complained once. He hadn't cried, he hadn't been angry, no. He'd just been determined; determined to seek justice for his mentor's unfortunate passing, and Phoenix admired the boy immensely for just that.

But the dam was bound to burst.

Phoenix shot up the minute the sound of a broken sob reached his ears.

His stomach dropped.

How did one comfort a child? Well, he'd comforted Pearl when she'd told him about the urn she'd shattered once, and he'd comforted her when Maya had been kidnapped and held hostage. Or, at least, he'd tried his best to. He wasn't sure whether it had worked, but Pearl had appeared soothed after each time, so-

Phoenix, stop overthinking and go help him!

Without pondering even another second, Phoenix swung his legs down the bed and stood up, quietly tiptoeing his way to the room Luke—and technically the professor – had been staying at.

The closer the lawyer got to the door, the more prominent the cries became, confirming Phoenix’s suspicions. Yes, it had been a matter of time, but that didn't mean Phoenix liked the idea of Luke crying any more.

The man knocked. “Luke?,” he whispered, “Luke, can I come in?”

The sobs ceased in an instant. “Mr Wright?,” a small, broken voice asked, and Phoenix’s stomach constricted all over again.

“Yeah, it's me,” Phoenix said.

A sniffle. “Come- come in.”

Making as little noise as possible, Phoenix pushed the door open.

Hershel's young apprentice was situated on the bed, legs dangling back and forth as he started at the floor. His shoulders shook with the occasional hiccup, and even in the low light of the chamber, Phoenix could see the tear stains on Luke's cheek.

“Hey, kiddo,” Phoenix said as gently as possible, closing the door behind him as to not disturb Espella and Patty, “You good?” Damn it, Phoenix, are you dense? “Wait, dumb question. Of course you're not doing good.”

“I'm- I'm fine,” Luke insisted, “Or at least I will be. Eventually. Maybe.”

Phoenix sighed. They were getting nowhere fast.

“You don't have to hide away from me,” the lawyer continued, taking the liberty to sit down next to Luke on the bed. The boy didn't seem to mind. “We're in this huge mess, but we're in it together. And I, or Maya, or Espella…we can't replace the professor, but we want to be here for you just as much.”

Luke finally met his eyes, and Phoenix’s heart shattered.

From the looks of it, Luke had been crying quite a bit ever since the dreadful incident. Not that Phoenix could ever hold it against him.

“Thank you, Mr Wright,” Luke whispered, rubbing at his puffy eyelids, “I'm sorry I couldn't be of any use today.”

“Hey, hey, no worries,” Phoenix shushed him, “I can only imagine what you’re feeling at the moment. You take all the time you need to grieve, okay?”

Uh-oh, Phoenix probably shouldn’t have said that. At the word “grieve”, fresh tears shot to Luke’s eyes, and it was then that the lawyer realized that he’d reminded the boy of the fact that his mentor hadn’t just disappeared, or taken a leave of absence to...to research or something, no.

The man was dead.

Luke seemed eager to apologize regardless. “I’m sorry again, I- I just-”

Phoenix instantly wrapped an arm around his shoulders, gently pulling him into his side. Luke seemed stunned for a moment, but quickly leaned into the comforting gesture.

“Stop apologizing,” Phoenix insisted, “You have nothing to apologize for, okay? You’re a kid, and you’ve just lost someone close to you. Of course you’re upset.”

Luke nodded against his side, and his shoulders shook again. This time, however, Phoenix could tell that the cause of that was a broken sob.

The attorney didn’t waste another second. He wrapped the boy into an actual, proper embrace, allowing him to sit on his lap and stain his shirt with his tears. Not like Phoenix cared about his shirt in the slightest, no. His priority was Luke, and making sure the child could release his pain and hurt to get some actual rest.

Because in addition to the puffiness, Luke had bags under his eyes, too.

This adventure sure had been taxing on every one of them.

And to think it’d cost Layton his life…

Phoenix shuddered at the thought.

“You know,” Luke suddenly said, voice muffled, “He stole a horse to get to the alchemist’s house faster, because there are no cars and stuff around here. Not even bikes.”

“He what?,” Phoenix asked, not believing his ears.

“Uhm, we jumped on random horses we found in the garrison, and then we raced over here, and I was kinda slow, so he left me to wait in front of the house so he could get to you faster, and-”

But Phoenix wasn't even listening anymore, his mind blessing him with the image of Professor Hershel Layton, not for the first time his knight in shining armor, daring to abandon his apprentice if it meant to save him. Hershel, on a stolen horse (somehow, Phoenix doubted stealing was gentlemanly), racing to the alchemist’s house to shield the lawyer from supposed danger.

He was so deep in thought that he hadn’t realized that Luke’s little body had gone limp against his side, breathing even and eyes closed.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The judge slammed his gavel. “The trial of Maya Fey shall now begin, as scheduled. Knights of the Court, are you ready to cross your swords of justice?”

Phoenix hated how sweaty he was as Barnham flashed him his usual angry glare. “Inquisitor Zacharias Barnham always has his sword ready for the work of justice.”

The judge nodded, and to Phoenix’s massive relief, he added, “I expected nothing less, Inquisitor Barnham. I, however, greatly encourage you to keep your physical sword to yourself this time. As Mr Layton kindly pointed out during the other trial, a hall of justice is no space for combat.”

Barnham appeared to agree, but it was clear he was displeased. Phoenix decided not to worry for now, and if Barnham indeed decided to slay him, then he’d at least be in the Twilight Realm together with Hershel-

“Is the defense ready?”

Right.

Defending Maya.

Phoenix took a deep breath and stood as straight as he could. “Defense ready, Your Honor. At this stage, I’ve just gotta give it everything I’ve got!”

Once again, the judge nodded. “It would appear the defender has thrown down the gauntlet, Sir Barnham.”

“Yep,” Phoenix said. Whatever “throwing down the gauntlet” meant.

“Now, before we begin – may I have a word with you, defender?”

“Uhm, sure, Your Honor!”

If Phoenix wasn’t mistaken, the judge seemed...impressed. “Last time we met, you stood in this court as an apprentice baker. In all honesty, when I saw you for the first time, I thought to myself: “A baker should stick to bread baking”.”

Phoenix had a hard time not to look completely dejected. “Is that so?”

What a fine first impression I made.

“However,” the judge continued, “today you are not merely some befuddled maker of sweet buns. I am obliged to fully recognize you as a knight of justice on par with Inquisitor Zacharias Barnham.”

Barnham seemed even more displeased with that statement than he’d been with the instruction to keep his sword to himself, but this time, Phoenix grinned.

“I thank you, Your Honor.”

“Now, may your duel begin! Fight bravely and expose the truth behind this heinous crime!”

The gallery, as always, loudly expressed their support for Barnham. Phoenix was used to it by now, but that wasn’t to say he didn’t want to throw something when his ears caught something along the lines of “why not put the baker on trial?! Bake the baker, I say!”.

He was rather sure he wouldn’t make for very tasty bread.

Espella nudged him in the side. “He may be adored by the crowds, but when he pointed his sword my way, you managed to shield me from his accusations! Maya clearly isn’t a witch, so surely, your victory is certain!”

“Thank you for believing in me, Espella,” Phoenix said with a smile.

It vanished the instant Barnham directed his cold glare towards the blonde young woman. “Espella Cantabella. I have given you permission to come to this trial today. However, that does not mean that the charges against you have been dropped. Rather than worry about others, you should consider your own situation!”

For a second, Phoenix was concerned about how Espella would take such harsh words – he knew how timid and empathetic Espella was. But she was also very brave, and that she proved by, instead of drawing into herself, offering Barnham a polite smile. “Thank you for granting me your permission, Inquisitor.”

The judge had enough of their chit-chat. “Inquisitor Barnham, you may begin your opening statement.”

“As you wish, Milord,” Barnham obeyed, “As usual, let us commence this trial by first recounting the events. If it pleases you, Sir Blue Knight.”

Phoenix wouldn’t say no even if he wanted to. Despite whatever promises Barnham might have made, the attorney didn’t trust him to keep his weapon to himself. “As you wish, uhm, Inquisitor.”

He’d never get used to this medieval terminology.

“This heinous crime occurred in the residence of the late Newton Belduke, the alchemist,” Barnham began, “Here is the sketched plan of his residence. This room, of a somewhat questionable nature, is the alchemist's study, in which the incident took place. The only ones present at the moment of crime were the accused and the victim. No one else. The witnesses, who arrived at the scene seconds later, have indicated where they found the accused and the victim.”

“Very well. The sketch is accepted as evidence,” the judge said.

Phoenix glanced at the floor plan, now in his immediate access. The small doodle of the professor almost made him smirk. It was way less handsome than its real-life counterpart.

Anyway.

“The accused took Sir Layton’s life with the most cruel of magic,” Barnham said, “A living man one second, a golden statue the next! Such wickedness!”

The gallery seemed to agree, and for the first time since they’d encountered one another, Phoenix, too, agreed with Barnham. But only on the “wickedness” part – this truly was a horrible way to go. Maya couldn’t have committed such an act, naturally, and Phoenix would go above and beyond to prove it.

Just you wait, Barnham!

“Several townspeople rushed to the room and paid witness to the horror of this magic. The accused has been captured and charged,” Barnham concluded.

“Goodness, that is terrifying!,” the judge exclaimed, “Rumors have reached me that the victim was a most scintillating man. I’m not quite certain whether it was prior to or after, but incidentally, was that Sir Layton not the same hat maker who attended our previous trial?”

Hat maker?! How dare the judge claim that Hershel was nothing more but a hat maker?!

“No, no!,” Phoenix interrupted, “He wasn’t a hat ma-”

“Bizarre as it is,” Barnham cut him off, “Sir Layton’s profession and origin remain unknown. He was a stranger in this city, that is all we know.”

Yeah, because he’s a professor of archaeology from London, Phoenix added in his mind. Not that he expected anyone in this court aside from him, Maya, and, if they were lucky, Espella to know what London was.

“And you, sir, his acquaintance,” Barnham hissed, glare once more directed at Phoenix, “You are an unusual presence in our city yourself.”

Well, Phoenix didn’t think he’d heard of “Los Angeles” before, either.

“Today’s case certainly is peculiar,” the judge commented.

“And that is not the last of the peculiarities, Milord,” Barnham said, “The alchemist’s study has been the scene of another strange incident in the past.”

“Ah yes, I remember as if it were yesterday!,” the judge said, “The mysterious death of Newton Belduke himself.”

“Indeed, Milord. Regrettably, the only case of witchcraft still to remain unsolved in our fair city. The witch may have escaped her punishment back then, but perhaps today is the day on which both these mysterious crimes shall be solved.”

Wait, he surely wasn’t- he wasn’t accusing Maya of-

They hadn’t even been here back then!

“What are you implying?!,” Phoenix asked.

“Patience!,” Barnham hollered, “You will know soon enough, Sir Suddenly-Pale Blue Knight.”

Grr!

“How interesting. It seems that the inquisition have something up their sleeve,” the judge said, “Now, Inquisitor Barnham, you may begin.”

“Thank you, Milord. The inquisition summons the witnesses to this malicious crime of witchcraft!”

Phoenix wiped the sweat off his palms with his pants. This wasn’t good. No, this wasn’t good at all. If only he’d made it to that damn study sooner! He could have prevented all this; Maya being arrested, hanging over a pit of flames, and Layton being- him being dead-

Why was he tearing up?

Okay, Phoenix, focus. You can still save Maya! Find every single crack in their testimony and prove it wasn’t her!

The witnesses arrived one by one. And the first one to step up was none other than.

“I am known far and wide as Emeer Punchenbaug the first, soon to be the new head of Punchenbaug’s Retail Organization, “PRO”.”

What?!

The golden chains decorated with jewels that hung around the witness’s neck hadn’t escaped Phoenix’s eye. Where in the world had Emeer gotten his hands on them, and not to mention that golden cup in front of him?!

“Wait a minute, witness!,” Phoenix yelled.

“What’s that, blue squire?,” Emeer inquired, and Phoenix felt that the nicknames related to the color of his suit were seriously getting old.

“You’re that guy from the previous trial!,” Phoenix pointed out, “Just what the heck’s happened to you? You look like you’ve been on one of those “ultimate makeover” shows…”

Right, No TV here either.

It was no wonder that reference flew over everyone’s head.

“Whatever do you mean?,” Emeer scoffed, “Me name is Emeer Punchenbaug the first, soon to be the head of Punchenbaug’s Retail Organization, “PRO”.”

So he wasn’t even the head of the organization he was bragging about being a head of?

“What is the meaning of this, Inquisitor?,” Phoenix demanded to know.

“I do not care to delve into this witness’ personal affairs,” came the blunt reply, and in all honesty, Phoenix couldn’t blame him.

“Onto the next witness,” the judge announced. In stepped a teacher, a slim, older woman with two strict buns, glasses and a teacher’s stick.

“Oh dearie, dearie me! I am but a humble teacher. Call me Ms Primstone. The children of Labyrinthia Primary School have the privilege of learning the truths about this world from me.”

After having listened to her annoying voice, Phoenix would think twice about calling this a “privilege, but that was beside the point. After all, a teacher wasn’t the worst witness to work with.

The next witness stepped up. He was obviously a bard, with either a colorful wig or dyed hair, never mind where he found the dye in this town. On his shoulder sat an equally colorful parrot. “The winds carry my song, it’s Birdly stringing along!,” he sang, playing his lyre which he had swung over his torso, “Parrot and bard, ensemble avant-garde!”

Oh boy, Phoenix thought.

“My faithful muse here is Cracker the musical parrot. No one understands music like Cracker. Aside from me, naturally,” Birdly continued, albeit not in song this time, thank god.

“Oh dearie, dearie me!,” Cracker squeaked. Phoenix grimaced.

“What a smart bird!,” Espella gasped in awe, “He just imitated that teacher perfectly!”

But then the last witness walked in – and Phoenix’s heart dropped.

“I’m Luke Triton,” the still obviously devastated boy said, “My occupation is...the professor’s apprentice!”

In the corner of his eye, Phoenix could see Barnham being content with himself as Luke appeared on the stand, and Phoenix was about to explode. What on earth had the inquisitor done to Luke that he’d flip sides like that and testify against Maya?!

“Luke! But...why?!”, Phoenix managed to stammer.

When Luke didn’t reply, the attorney pressed on, “What are you doing there?”

“I made up my mind,” Luke dryly stated, “I’m doing this for the professor! A gentleman has to pursue the truth!”

Yes, the truth that Maya isn’t a damn witch!

“But Luke,” Phoenix tried, “That’s where the inquisition’s witnesses stand!”

The lawyer regretted his sharp tone when he saw beady tears well up in Luke’s eyes. The child had shed far too many of them during the past few days…

“I’ll never- I’ll never forgive that witch!,” Luke burst out.

“L-Luke!,” Maya called, but the boy didn’t reply, wiping his eyes.

This is going to be one hot mess…

“Your friend today can be your enemy tomorrow,” Barnham commented, the smirk never leaving his face, “Such is the hard reality of the battlefield.”

A slam of the gavel. “Witnesses, we will now hear your testimonies. Tell us all of this wicked incident, which you have been unfortunate enough to witness!”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Phoenix managed to get through the first batch of testimonies relatively fast. It pained him to shoot down Luke’s claim the professor supposedly “saw through Miss Maya’s deception and confronted her face-to-face”, but it was for the best if the kid got the inquisition’s fog lifted from his eyes.

Eventually, they got hung up on Ms Primstone’s testimony that Layton was holding a knife at the time of incident. Phoenix could only speculate why – he was convinced that there was no way Hershel would consciously threaten someone with a blade if it wasn’t out of self defense, and Maya definitely wouldn’t threaten him to the point of him drawing a knife. In fact, she wouldn’t threaten him at all.

His heart began to pick up speed as the judge brought up Layton himself.

“Inquisitor Barnham?”

“Yes, Milord?”

The judge looked stern. “It should pose no difficulty to verify whether or not the victim had a knife. After all, that…” He gulped. “That sparkling golden body of his has been found at the scene of the crime, has it not?”

Phoenix was eagerly shaking his head. No way! They couldn’t go that route!

“Indeed it has, Milord,” Barnham replied after a short pause, “Court attendants! You heard the judge! Bring the victim into the courtroom!”

Fuck!

Phoenix felt as if his insides were twisting. What was the judge, and Barnham, thinking; just casually introducing a corpse to a court of law?! In front of the eyes of a child, a child who was very close to Hershel, no less?

And in front of him, too?!

Seeing Layton’s golden form once had been grueling enough. His rigid body, the emptiness in the once so vivid and intelligent eyes. The stiffness in his soft curls. The mouth melted shut for him to never come up with a riddle or a compliment ever again.

What sort of cruel irony was this?

Why had it been him that had have to die?

“P-professor,” Luke stammered, and from the crack in his voice, the poor kid was on the verge of crying once more. If it weren’t for his own inability to move, Phoenix would have run over and comforted him this instant, but before he could snap out of his freeze, the bailiffs came trotting through the gate – and the golden statue right with them.

“Look at that!,” the judge gasped with wide eyes.

Phoenix’s stomach constricted even more at the sight of Hershel’s indeed missing arm. Luke hadn’t been kidding…

“PROFESSOR!,” Luke wailed. Nobody paid attention to him.

“So this is the power of the gold transmutation spell!” The judge whistled. “Most spectacular. It looks like the work of the finest artisans!”

“I assure you it is the work of no artisans, Milord,” Barnham said, “By the way, the missing arm has not yet been found.”

“I- I can’t believe this!,” Luke gasped. The despair in his voice made Phoenix flinch.

“I suppose we should add the victim to the evidence,” the judge stated, and Phoenix had to draw in a sharp breath as to not to snap at him. That wasn’t evidence, that was Hershel Layton, goddammit! “This is unfortunate. I thought the evidence would be as good as gold…”

If the judge didn’t shut up, Phoenix was going to strangle him.

“...But although it technically is, we are still no closer to discerning whether or not the victim was holding a knife.”

“Let me speak, please!,” Maya pleaded, and Phoenix flinched for the umpteenth time this trial.

She’d tried to speak before, only to be harshly cut off by Barnham who threatened to throw her into the fire if she were to raise her voice again. As much as Phoenix admired her determination to stand up for herself and hated the system in this town that forbid her from doing so, he wished she’d stayed silent for this one.

“Maya…,” he tried to warn her.

But Maya Fey was one stubborn spirit medium. “The professor didn’t have a knife! And also, there was another person in that room! The real witch was there too! Please believe me!”

As expected, Barnham wouldn’t take it. “Accused, do I really need to warn you again? Inside the cage, you are to behave like a bird that has forgotten its song. Speak again and you shall be punished. Or are you in a particular hurry to taste the flames of justice, little bird?”

Phoenix was going to strangle him, too, and it proved itself immensely difficult to hold back as Maya let out a sob ridden with fear.

“Objection!,” Phoenix yelled instead, “It’s true that someone else could have been at the crime scene! Look at the sketch! The pro- the victim was facing towards someone, and that person wasn’t Maya!”

Barnham only scoffed. “Sir Blue Knight, your ignorance is no longer even surprise.”

“Huh?,” Phoenix said, by now getting super irritated.

“You do not know what transpired at the crime scene. You think this man was pointing at another person, you say? Let me tell you this. Nearly everyone in this court other than you knows what Sir Hat was pointing at.”

Luke didn’t seem to share that opinion. “Wh-what?”

“Well, honorable witnesses? Is that not so?”

Luke threw Phoenix a panicked look, mouthing a “no”. Phoenix couldn’t do much else other than shrug as he was equally at a loss.

“I, Emeer Punchenbaug the first, love me some gossip and stories of the occult!,” Emeer proclaimed, his golden chains clinking against each other.

“Elusive like mist, the magical beast! It’s chilling breath brings about death!,” Birdly sang.

“Oh dearie, dearie me! You could use some education, Blue Knight. I can offer you private tuition, but it will not come cheap!,” Ms Primstone commented.

Phoenix put his hands to is hips. “I literally went to law school-”

The judge hammered down the gavel. “Witnesses, you will now testify. Tell us all about this other presence at the crime scene!”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Phoenix Wright had seen his fair share of confusing trials, but this one took the cake. Four witnesses at once, one of which was a grieving boy, the other a drunkard, another one a bard only able to deliver his testimony in song, and the last one a stuck-up teacher who took elementary school too seriously – nothing about this could and would end well, and he’d been right.

He just wanted this to be over, for both his and his friends' ssakes.

He drew in a deep breath.

“Let’s go over the order of events, as per the witnesses’ testimonies,” Phoenix said, patting his courtroom notes. “First, the witch cast a spell on the professor, turning him to gold. When all of you rushed to the crime scene, that golden statue fell down, making a loud noise. Next, the witch dropped the scepter.”

Barnham grimaced, clearly unimpressed. “What are you getting at, Sir Blue Knight? All witnesses agree with this order of events.”

How had they gotten here again?

Ah, yes. Emeer Punchenbaug.

The man had found Hershel’s missing arm at the crime scene and, while every rational person had stood there, shell-shocked, pocketed it and later pawned it off for a good batch of money. That’s how he was able to afford all this golden chains.

Luke definitely needed therapy after all this.

However, as unfortunate the fact was that the professor no longer had his pointing arm, the location Emeer described ripped open a contradiction that Phoenix knew would work in his advantage.

And he’d reveal it, even if it was just to annoy that mere punching bag.

“That’s right,” Phoenix said, “They all agree that’s how it happened. But then there’s the arm.”

“Well, what about it? Spit it out!”

Damn, that guy was impatient.

“Let’s assume that Maya was the witch, like all of you do. Now, look at the sketch again. The witch dropped the scepter after having turned the professor into gold. The scepter tumbled along the floor, and was found here, as asserted by the prose- er, the inquisition.” And now came his trump card. He pointed his finger. “However, that would be impossible – there’s no way it could have been there!”

The judge’s eyes widened as he grasped what Phoenix was getting at. “Oh! I see it now!”

Barnham’s grimace changed from annoyed to wounded. “Ngh! The arm- it was-”

Phoenix allowed himself to smile. “I’m glad you seem to have noticed. The victim’s arm was on the floor right there, standing on its end. Therefore, the scepter couldn’t possibly have fallen that way. Ergo, it couldn’t have been the defendant who dropped the scepter! In other words, Maya is not a witch!”

The gallery erupted in shocked gasps and yelling as Barnham drew back, momentarily defeated. “Nghh!”

The judge slammed the gavel. “Order! Order! Order! How can this be? The inquisition’s reasoning as been proven invalid through just one single piece of unusual evidence!”

Ha! Call it Layton’s magical touch!, Phoenix thought, and the second he did that, he felt his face flush a deep crimson. No, wait, not like that- argh- A-anyway, the professor sacrificed his arm to leave us just the evidence needed to turn this thing around!

Why had his train of thought gone off the rails for that brief moment?

“That was amazing, Mr Wright!,” Espella complimented.

But Barnham’s “Objection!” didn’t leave them waiting for too long. “An admirable deduction, Sir Blue Knight. That I cannot deny. Even if we are to assume your reasoning is correct and that girl in the cage is not a witch…”

“Even if?!,” Phoenix snapped.

“In the many trials I have attended, I have become well-versed in certain aspects of magic. I am all too aware of its potential to confuse people; to befuddle their minds and make their memories hazy. No one can resist such a maddening influence.”

Phoenix leaned forward, hands on the desk. “What are you trying to say, inquisitor?”

“The scepter could not have tumbled across the floor if the arm were in its way,” Barnham stated, “However! Can we be sure that this is where the arm was? Are all of the witnesses able to confirm its location at the time?”

“Objection!,” Phoenix shouted, “We’ve heard what they had to say several times now! They agreed that the scepter fell after the victim fell over!”

“Objection!,” Barnham yelled back, “And yet, no one actually saw the scepter actually being dropped! Witnesses, think back to that incident once more. Did the golden statue fall over first, or did the staff fall before it? Think carefully about what you have seen and heard. Everything hinges on your testimonies. May your words guide us to the truth and decide the fate of the caged witch!”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

There was absolutely zero sense behind any of these testimonies, and Phoenix might as well have thrown his brain into the pit of fire, because there was no way in the world that he could draw a logical conclusion from any of this.

The order of events was a topic they’d been hung up on for such a ridiculously long time, and they still did not have a clear answer.

But then, a certain apprentice came to his rescue. “Mr Wright?”

“Yes, Luke?”

Luke put a hand to his chin in thought. “Well, I‘ve been thinking about what Mr Barnham said a while ago.”

“What was that, exactly?,” Phoenix inquired.

“That humans who witness magic become confused and lose sight of what’s real,” Luke explained. Yes, Barnham had indeed said that. “And they end up not knowing what actually happened. Well, I was thinking that Mr Barnham might be right. And then, it occurred to me that there might be a way...I mean, we do have with us...a witness who isn’t human!”

Phoenix had a bad, bad feeling when Luke excitedly pointed to Cracker the parrot sitting on Birdly’s shoulder.

“Aaaah! Oh dearie, dearie me!,” the parrot croaked.

The defense attorney felt cold sweat drip down his temples. “This situation seems oddly familiar…”

“I asked him earlier if he remembers the events clearly or not,” Luke continued, “He said that he has a memory better than an elephant and remembers everything perfectly well!”

Right! Luke could talk to animals!

“Mr Wright, I know it sounds crazy, but please let me try!,” the professor’s apprentice pleaded, “Let me ask Cracker to testify!”

Oh, boy.

If there was one thing Phoenix really, really did not want to do, it was to resort to this.

Funnily enough, exactly this kind of move had gotten him out of a tight spot before, and he’d been able to save his best friend Miles Edgeworth from a false conviction thanks to the vague testimony from a parrot named Polly. The rage on Manfred Von Karma’s face when that parrot had brought him down and exposed his crimes had been pure bliss to witness, so much was certain.

But this wasn’t DL-6, and this wasn’t the familiar courtroom in Los Angeles. This wasn’t the same judge that knew of his antics very well, and this was a knight with a damn sharp sword facing him at the opposite bench.

Could he really pull this off?

The problem was that, even if he couldn’t, he didn’t have another choice.

“Defender, are you still with us?,” the judge asked, “This is not the time nor place for daydreaming. What do you intend to do?”

Phoenix knew that he had to cross-examine that goddamn parrot the second he saw the triumphant grin return to Zacharias Barnham’s face, just to make said grin vanish. “Heh, it looks as though you’ve exhausted all means for a counter-attack, Sir Knight in Blue,” the inquisitor said, “Is it not time you drop your sword?”

“If you have no further questions for the witnesses, defender, I will consider your interrogation finished,” the judge added, his gavel hitting the palm of his hand, “What will it be then? Are we finished here?”

Oh, absolutely not.

“Your Honor,” Phoenix announced, “The defense would like to summon a new witness!”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

“I have obtained the records from the local court,” Edgeworth announced, pulling out a stack of papers from his bag. “I’m lucky that I am who I am, otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to obtain them.”

Desmond took the liberty of flipping through the assorted documents. “Ah, here it is. Case state of England v Espella Cantabella.”

“Wright defended this girl who was charged with thief and assault. A spontaneous thing, likely – after all, he wasn't planning on taking up any defense at all while here. This was supposed to be a watch and learn exchange.”

“Is England short of lawyers, pal?,” Gumshoe asked, to which Desmond scoffed.

“Not that I know of, Detective.”

Edgeworth turned the page. There were the obligatory photos of evidence, witnesses, and the defendant herself. She seemed rather timid and petite; no wonder Phoenix had ended up proving her innocent.

But what really caught Edgeworth’s eye was the odd-looking book she was carrying under her arm.

“Historia Labyrinthia?,” he read aloud.

“You think that’s important?,” Desmond inquired.

“I cannot guarantee,” the prosecutor stated, “It does strike me as strange, though. Perhaps...just perhaps...it could be a clue.”

Desmond raised an eyebrow. “A clue to what?”

“The last time I heard from Wright was after this case,” Edgeworth explained, “I received a text message from him that went and I quote,” he pulled out his phone, “”just won my first british case. i swear the prosecutor is related to payne lol.” According to the files, the case ended at roughly 1 PM, and I received the message at around 1:02 PM London time that day.”

“And then nothing?”

Edgeworth shook his head. “Radio silence.”

“Hm.”

Gumshoe tapped on the picture with his finger. “Who’s that blonde girl? Is it Espella?”

Now, Edgeworth nodded. “Yes, it appears so. It is stated here that she is from an all girls’ school. Perhaps if we were to track it down, we’d find out more.” He turned towards the library’s computer. “Allow me to…”

He typed in the name of the school mentioned in the court files – and immediately scoffed.

Whoever had done their research on this case hadn’t done it well, because whatever school Espella Cantabella supposedly attended didn’t exist.

“There goes that clue,” he muttered, sighing.

“Maybe it was a staged case,” Desmond suggested, “For Mr Wright to defend someone in Britain. This is an exchange program, and I doubt they’d put an American lawyer in charge of the defense in British courtroom.”

“That does indeed sound like a reasonable explanation, however, the records here clearly state otherwise,” Edgeworth said. He put his head in his hands. “This is getting more complicated by the minute. I cannot help but feel like we’re just wasting time.”

Oh, and they had wasted plenty of it. In the first week following their meeting, Desmond had taken them all the way to Monte D’Or, knowing that it was a place known for mysteries and Hershel’s friends. Gumshoe had been left enchanted by the offered cotton candy, but they’d left just as knowledgeable as they were before.

The following week, they’d traveled around Misthallery, St Mystere and Folsense, all places that had required Hershel’s assistance in the past. Layton was a bit of a memory hoarder, and it wasn’t unlike him to revisit places from his previous misadventures. This time, however, this was no such case.

When Desmond had proposed they’d search Ambrosia next, Edgeworth had caught a cold in the horrendous British summer rain and had been forced to lay low for a week, of course not without letting everyone know just how displeased he was with their current circumstances. Following this mishap, they’d decided to stick to research, and it had eventually led them here.

“What if you google “Labyrinthia”,” Desmond said, snatching the keyboard away from Miles and eagerly typing in the word.

Nothing.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” the former terrorist grumbled.

“This isn’t helping us,” Edgeworth muttered, turning off the computer. “We will have to locate this mysterious Labyrinthia ourselves.”

“But what if it isn’t a place?,” Gumshoe thought aloud, “It could be anything, Sir.”

For the first time since, well, probably since they’d started working with each other, Miles Edgeworth didn’t have an objection to what Dick Gumshoe had to say.

“...You indeed raise a point,” Miles relented.

“But the book says “Historia Labyrinthia”,” Desmond interjected, “Does, say, an object have the same kind of history a place has, and would anybody write a thick tome about it?”

“Point debunked, Gumshoe,” Edgeworth agreed, and Gumshoe sighed, shoulders sacking in an equivalent of a dog’s ears going limp in disappointment. “But I suppose we have a new clue.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The atmosphere in the Witches’ Court was, pun not intended, heating up.

“A new witness, you say?,” the judge asked, eyes wide, “Who do you have in mind?”

Suddenly, inconveniently, Phoenix felt himself grow awfully nervous. “It’s, uhh, it’s a witness you all know. By the name of Mr Cracker.”

“Mr Cracker?,” the judge repeated.

“I know of no man by that name!,” Barnham yelled.

The parrot solved the riddle for them by croaking his own name. “Mister! Cracker!”

Thank goodness Phoenix was filled with a rush of confidence a second later. “The defense summons its new witness, Mr Cracker the Parrot!”

The gallery exploded.

“A- a parrot as a witness?,” the judge asked.

“Objection!”, Barnham shouted, “This is the Witches’ Court! Joking around will be considered contempt of court!”

“Objection!,” Phoenix protested, “Mr Cracker witnessed the crime. He saw it happen, and he heard it too! He’s as valid a witness as the others!”

“No, no, no!,” Barnham shrieked, “That bird is nothing but a pet animal! Referring to it as “Mr” will not change that!”

“Humans are confused by magic, to the extent that they lose sight of what’s real!” This time, it was Phoenix’s accusatory finger pointing at Barnham. “That’s what you yourself said, Inquisitor Zacharias Barnham!”

Full name. Pulled a Franziska there.

Barnham didn’t like it. “Calling me by my full name does not help justify such brash foolishness!”

Oof.

“The inquisition is against interrogating a parrot!”

Birdly came to Phoenix’s rescue. “By the way, kind sirs. I suppose you should know that my dear companion never forgets a sound he hears.”

Everything he hears, huh…?

“It’s definitely worth asking Cracker to testify!,” Luke pressed.

The judge slammed the gavel. Phoenix’s heart throbbed as he awaited a final answer. “The court sees the situation as follows...the witnesses’ testimonies do not hold together. In fact, they are as erratic as that bard’s songs. I cannot see this trial getting any more confusing. Very well – the defense may summon this avian witness!”

The insults hurled at him from the gallery didn’t surprise or faze Phoenix in the slightest. He’d do everything in his power to save Maya, even if it meant questioning a parrot!

Again.

And again, it proved effective.

Phoenix couldn’t deny that drops of cold sweat ran down his forehead as Barnham pierced him with an angry glare. The inquisitor would never give him a chance with that parrot, but he wouldn’t give him a chance either way, so Phoenix supposed the best line of action was to just let it go, and move on.

He had a goal to work towards.

And what Cracker revealed turned the entire case around.

Sure, Barnham had written it off as nonsense the first time Phoenix had pointed out the contradiction – namely the fact that Cracker had apparently heard the spell after the golden statue had already dropped to the floor. But what the bird had heard was not the incantation for turning people into gold, no.

It was a spell for the creation of portals. Portals through green walls, to be exact. Needed for that was a green gem.

And that’s when Phoenix brought up Jean Greyerl.

Jean had admitted that she was a girl – and a witch, at that. It was natural to assume that she was in the possession of a Talea Magica.

Now, Phoenix did want to accuse her. No, that was not his intention at all. The theory he proposed was the following: That Jean disposed of the Talea Magica through the portal, seizing the opportunity, and – be it accidentally or not – framed Maya in the process. That theory was supported when it was revealed that the second magic gem stuck in the staff on the opposite side of where the golden gem for “Goldor” sat was forged.

It looked suspiciously like the purple one Jean had have attached to her neck when they’d first met, and that, in turn, was supported by the fact that the gem she wore now was emerald green.

Phoenix had not expected her to straight up confess on the stand.

He’d known about the alchemist already. She’d told him she’d strangled him, and he’d promised to keep it to himself. And that’s exactly what he had done, no questions asked. All that he was accusing her of was getting rid of her witch staff, he swore!

But then, the trial derailed.

The incident with Newton Belduke was brought up. Barnham instantly pointed his sword at Maya, paying no mind to the fact that her and Phoenix hadn’t even been there at the time. Phoenix, naturally, gave him a piece of his mind, defending Maya with every fiber of his being.

Until Jean confessed.

Newton had known she was a witch, she’d said. She’d caught him writing a letter to the storyteller, and she’d instantly assumed that he was going to turn her in as the witch she claimed to be. In a panic, she’d summoned that portal and strangled him.

When she’d been younger, she’d accidentally turned her pet goat to gold – that’s how the golden gem was explained.

Barnham wanted to throw her into the flames immediately when it was revealed that Mr Belduke’s death had nothing to do with Jean, but was, in fact, a suicide.

She was let go.

“Okay,” Phoenix let out a breath. “How about we get back to the important stuff?”

Barnham had his fingers on the grip of his sword again. “That being?”

Phoenix slammed the desk. “The trial for Professor Layton’s murder, of course! I won’t stop until justice is served!”

Barnham blinked, nonchalant. “Ah, that. Yes.” Phoenix didn’t know how, but he snapped his fingers. “Knights! Punish the caged witch!”

“Yeah! Wait- what?!”

Phoenix’s heart dropped as the knights Barnham had given his order to moved towards the cage Maya was in.

“Seeing as we’ve ruled out Jean Greyerl as the culprit,” Barnham said, which technically, they hadn’t, “Only one possible witch remains.”

The gallery began chanting his name, and boy, had Phoenix not missed that.

“Hang on!,” the lawyer shouted, “That doesn’t make sense! How does Greyerl not being guilty translate to Maya being guilty?! We have to consider every other possibility! What if there was a third party? What if Jean was guilty after all?!”

“Even you don’t believe that, Sir Blue Knight,” Barnham scoffed. He gestured with his hand.

Chains rattled.

Phoenix’s heart was pounding in his throat. “No! No, wait-”

The judge slammed his gavel.

The cage snapped closed, and was dropped into the fire.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

What happened afterwards was a complete blur.

Phoenix remembered screaming Maya’s name on the top of his lungs. He remembered throwing himself at one of the armored guards to get to her, to somehow become superman and pull the cage out before the flames could tickle its bottom. Espella had grabbed his arms and pulled him out of the courtroom, away from the fire and the heat and the cheering crowd.

Cool forest air hit him in the face.

Maya’s dead.

“What do we do now?,” Luke asked, movements frantic, “We made it out of the courtroom, but...everyone’s in an uproar. So, uhm...where do we go from here?”

That was an excellent question, truly. One that Phoenix did not want to answer.

Maya was dead, how could he think about the future?!

“My, you certainly managed to get yourselves into quite the predicament.”

The voice sent chills down Phoenix’s spine. At the same time, he desperately wanted to test what boxing skills he possessed.

Barnham.

“That voice!,” Luke gasped, “Inquisitor Barnham!”

“You are accomplices to the Great Witch Bezella,” Barnham began, “And have assisted in her escape.”

Phoenix took a deep breath. “Why are you circling back to Espella now, huh? Jeez, talk about being hung up on something!”

Barnham ignored him. “In a manner of speaking, you have been branded an enemy to all of Labyrinthia. There is nowhere you can hide.”

“But why?!,” Luke spluttered, “Espella isn’t the Great Witch! Why can’t you understand that?!”

“Then, I must ask you: Why do you continue to deny the clear allegation that this girl is Bezella?”

“That’s easy!,” Luke replied, “Because we believe in her. I know back in the courtroom, when I testified...I said I didn’t believe in Maya, but...deep down, I believed in her. We did, and we all still do!”

Phoenix let out a bitter scoff. “There’s no one to believe in anymore, Luke.”

Barnham, of all places, chimed in. “The loss of Maya Fey is...unfortunate.”

Unfortunate?!

That this man had the guts to-

“You have my deepest sympathies,” Barnham added.

That was it.

“Really? Your “deepest sympathies”? Who the hell are you kidding, Barnham?!”

“This outcome was certainly unexpected-”

“It wasn’t! Oh, you were practically itching to throw her into the flames! I could see it from minute one, the thirst for blood, despite you and I both knowing she was innocent! Your face was pretty damn smug when you told those loyal guards of you to activate the lever; “deepest sympathies” my ass!”

Phoenix was lucky that Barnham wasn’t wearing his helmet and he didn’t break his knuckles as his fist flew into the inquisitor’s nose.

Luke and Espella both flinched as the knight lifted a shaky hand to wipe at his bloody nose, and Phoenix knew that he’d never felt such unimaginable rage before.

“You didn’t give me a chance to defend her in court,” he hissed, “So I will defend her honor now. Go! Get out of my sight! Just GO!”

Barnham turned around, his shoulders a little more sagged than Phoenix had anticipated. The lawyer was about to try and compose himself when the inquisitor looked at them once more. “Exit through the main gate and head east through the forest. You should be able to escape along the small path there.”

“Huh?,” Luke gaped.

“On the outskirts of the city, you will find Rouge’s tavern,” Barnham continued, “You should be safe there.”

Luke still couldn’t believe it. “Why- why are you helping-”

“Go! Now!,” Barnham barked, “You will be caught if you stay here, and this will be all for naught!”

They ran.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The tavern wasn’t hard to find, Barnham had been right about that much.

It was located in a part of town neither Espella nor anyone else part of their little group had ever been to. It looked almost intimidating in the dark if it weren’t for the lanterns, but even if it weren’t for them, they’d have to hide inside anyway if they didn’t want to be caught and be executed at the hands of the Inquisition.

Music was playing, and the trio let out a sigh of relief.

A red-haired woman (or pink, or orange, who knew – basically, Barnham-shade) greeted them with a frown. “Hey, you. Shouldn’t a kid be asleep instead of wandering around taverns?”

Of course.

“We’re terribly sorry, Ma’am,” Phoenix jumped in, “But we- we’re on the run.”

The woman raised her eyebrows, throwing the dish towel out of her hands. “On the run, you say?”

Phoenix nodded. “Yes. Inquisitor Barnham stated that- stated that we’d find shelter here. We didn’t mean to impose or anything.”

“Barnham?” She scoffed. “After everything, the last thing I expected him to do was to side with supposed degenerates.”

“Us neither,” Luke shrugged.

The woman crossed her arms. “Hmpf. All right. In that case, I will allow you to stay.” Her frown vanished as she stuck out her hand. “My name is Rouge. Make yourself at home! The rooms are upstairs; please pay the mess around here no mind. I let people clear their minds in these walls, but I expect them to clean after themselves following their recovery.”

Ah, a reasonable bar owner.

Not something too common.

“Alright, gotcha,” Phoenix said, “Thanks. Thanks a lot.”

“You’re welcome. Wait, aren’t you that defender from today’s trial? I gotta say, I’m sorry about your friend.”

Which one?, Phoenix almost asked, but held his tongue.

“Yeah, uh. Thanks.”

They were led to their room. It was certainly frugal when it came to space; with a three-story bunk bed crammed into the corner, and some odd statues occupying the remainder of the floor. But none of them cared, really – Espella and Luke were exhausted, and, technically speaking, so was Phoenix, but he couldn’t be bothered to sleep after everything.

And so, when he was sure both children were snoring, he sneaked out of the room.

All the other guests who’d been enjoying the live music earlier had either gone home or sought refuge in one of the other rooms the tavern had to offer. A weight was lifted off Phoenix’s chest, if he were to be honest – the lawyer wanted to succumb to his grief alone, thank you very much.

He’d have climbed onto the rooftop if necessary.

Man, did he miss the rooftop of his office back in Los Angeles.

He remembered the night after he’d cleared Maya in regards to her sister’s murder. It having been September, the air had still been warm as they’d carried their take-out boxes with burgers and fries up to the roof, a picnic blanket under Phoenix’s arm. Maya had provided bubble tea from across the street, and they’d played card games until their stomachs had hurt from laughter.

A memory certainly destined to be engraved in his brain forever.

Maya…

How could he have failed her like that?!

A mistake of that kind was unforgivable, so much was certain. As devious as it sounded, the lawyer would rather have had her declared guilty in one of their past trials than her being dead.

“What’cha doing here all alone?”

Phoenix’s head snapped up at the sudden question.

Rouge was eyeing him, a dish towel in her hands as she get rid of the last few water drops on a cleaned beer glass. Her eyebrow was raised in both concern and curiosity as Phoenix made his way towards the counter, plopping down on one of the wooden stools.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Phoenix shrugged, “A lot...a lot has happened.”

Rouge hummed, signaling that she was listening and that he should go on.

“My friend was unjustly found guilty in a witch trial, and it’s my fault. I failed to defend her. And another friend of mine was the victim in that very same trial, and now I have a grieving child to take care of who didn’t deserve any of this.”

“Oh, you mean that little lad in the blue cap?”

Phoenix nodded. “That’s him.”

“Hmm. He seems like a sharp one.”

“He is,” Phoenix said, “Solves puzzles like nobody else. Well, aside from his mentor, of course. The one we lost to witchcraft that my friend most certainly did not commit.”

“Puzzles, you say?”

“Yeah. Puzzles.”

The bartender seemed to sink into her own thoughts for a moment. “Say, I have one here. It’s quite the challenge – I have had quite a few people give up on it over the years. But then again, most of them had been wasted. Wanna give it a shot?”

A puzzle?

Without Hershel?

The sheer concept of that sounded wrong.

But then again, who else would solve the puzzles if Hershel wasn’t around to do so?

He’d make the professor’s spirit proud by keeping his brain trained.

“You know what? Throw it at me. I’m all ears.”

Chalices and knives were set up. Phoenix surprised himself by actually putting effort into finding the solution, resulting in Rouge sliding a chalice full of water over to him, which he chugged in one sitting.

All that running around and worrying sure caused dehydration.

This puzzle reminded him of a puzzle, and the puzzle was named Hershel Layton-

Wait, huh?

“I caught wind of what happened in court today,” Rouge suddenly said, “I’m sorry about Maya. She seemed very important to you.”

“I’m- I’m all right,” Phoenix instantly said, “I’m just- I’m not sure if I can protect these two. More than that, I...I just don’t want them to think I might fail them.”

“You want to protect them, and don’t want them to think you’ll fail, huh? That all sounds well and good…” Rouge turned stern. “But you know what I think? I think you’re just telling yourself what you want to hear.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“I think the words coming out of your mouth right now are downright selfish,” Rouge spat, and Phoenix almost got angry.

“H-hey, what are you-”

“Have you taken a second to step back from your wallowing and think how worried they must be about you right now?”

The lawyer didn’t have an answer.

“So it’s hopeless, huh?”

“Yes!,” Phoenix exclaimed, “I failed her, and I cannot fail them, and-”

“Do you think these kids are hopeless too? Pssh, don’t make me laugh! You wanna see hopeless? That’s easy, just take a look in the mirror.”

Okay, wow. That’s a low blow.

“It’s okay,” Rouge continued, in a softer tone, “I get it. You had some really rough stuff happen to you today. Unimaginably sad, emotionally trying stuff. And that’s why the first thing you need to do is just accept it all. The sadness, the remorse, everything. Even the guilt.”

“He wouldn’t let me fight for her,” Phoenix muttered, “He sent her to death for no reason. If I only could have done something...Maya would still be by my side!”

Rouge stayed silent. She offered Phoenix another glass of water.

The man was beat.

He wanted to sleep.

He managed to stand up, shuffle towards the stairs, ascend them, when-

A rustle.

Phoenix kept his voice low. “Who’s that?”

The floorboards creaked as Luke revealed himself, crouching down by the stairs. He’d covered himself with a loose quilt, hoping that Mr Wright wouldn’t take note of his presence, but in vain.

“Luke?”

The boy climbed out, red-rimmed eyes and all. “I’m sorry, Mr Wright,” he muttered, “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

Phoenix’s expression softened. “Hey, you’re okay, kiddo. Couldn’t sleep?”

Luke nodded.

Phoenix slid down the wall to sit next to the professor’s apprentice. “That makes two of us, then.”

Luke buried his face in his knees, drawing his legs closer to his chest, and sniffled. Something in Phoenix broke at the sound, and he wrapped an arm around the boy’s shoulders. “I just-” Luke began, voice cracking, “I thought that I’d be over it by now, that I could focus on the mission and get home, and-”

“Hey, Luke,” Phoenix gently shushed him, “Nobody, least of all me, expects you to recover from such a loss within two weeks. Your feelings are valid, and you shouldn’t think that you have to bottle them up. All right?”

Luke wiped his nose. “Yeah. I think I get it. It’s just that, you know, the professor always says a true gentleman doesn’t make a scene in public, and-”

“Okay, first of all, we aren’t in public,” Phoenix interrupted him, “And the professor can shut up about that for all I care. It wouldn’t surprise me if he has tons of repressed emotions if he keeps giving you that kind of advice.”

“A true gentleman shouldn't be rude, either,” Luke simply deadpanned.

Phoenix sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Luke. The last thing I wanna do is to drag your mentor’s name through the mud. I miss him too, y’know.”

“You do?”

“Of course,” Phoenix replied.

There were no words to convey how much his heart ached at the thought of Hershel.

Luke let out a strangled sob, prompting Phoenix to tighten his arm around the boy. “I miss him, too,” he sniffled, “So very much, Mr Wright.”

The attorney let the boy cry, let him let out all the pent-up pain that was added by both the arduous trial and the investigation without Hershel. He didn’t say much, simply rubbed his side and provided warmth.

Phoenix could understand that such a young and earnest heart endeared Hershel, and if he could even explain it that way, the urge to care for and protect the kid was telepathically transmitted from wherever Hershel was right now.

The muffled sobs next to him subsided, and Phoenix felt relief flooding his chest. Luke was such a sweet and gentle soul, and seeing and hearing him cry had genuinely been one of the worst things the lawyer had dealt ever since getting trapped in this odd fairy tale town.

He wasn’t surprised visions of the golden statue were still plaguing the young boy in his sleep, or even outside of it. Phoenix knew grief, and he also was specifically well acquainted with the grief of losing a mentor. When Mia had been killed, the man hadn’t felt perfectly adjusted to the new reality for months on end. Maya and the court cases he’d been involved in during that time had helped distract him very much, and the same could be said for when he’d been made to believe that his friend Edgeworth had committed suicide – something he, to this day, hadn’t fully forgiven him for.

But if there was one thing that Phoenix couldn’t relate to at the moment was losing a mentor, hell, a father figure, as a child.

He hadn’t known Luke for an extremely long time, so much was certain. But he vowed to be there for him every step of the way, no matter what the outcome of this odd story would be.

Maybe that would help him to cope with Maya’s loss, too.

And help ease that weird, strong ache in his heart suffocating him whenever he heard Layton’s gentle voice rant about a puzzle the nearest cobblestone reminded him of only to look over his shoulder and find that the man wasn’t there.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The marketplace felt as if it was swept clean.

Not a single person was in sight as Espella, Luke and Phoenix set off to find something, anything, that would help them.

Maybe they would have if Phoenix wasn’t so preoccupied the whole time.

He’d dreamed of Hershel that night. Maybe he’d manifested it in some way; maybe calming Luke down and attempting to relate to his situation had caused his brain to become confused and plague him with the image of the late professor while asleep.

“Plague”, however, was the incorrect term.

In fact, he was more blessed than anything.

His head spun whenever he tried to make sense of this situation, and he’d given up, mostly. But at the same time, it was annoying! He hated it; the feeling that he was high on some...some happiness drug whenever the professor stepped into his vision – even in a dream.

He wanted to be able to talk to him without stumbling over his words, without feeling his face grow ten shades darker whenever Layton shot him his charming, English smile. Be the professional partner that Hershel needed in their situation, to get out of here as soon as possible. Even if it was without Hershel himself.

Partner…

The word struck a chord.

Phoenix wanted to be nothing more than Hershel’s partner.

The problem was that the line that stood between investigation partner and partner in, well, that other sense was suspiciously blurred.

Phoenix felt sirens go off in his brain and quickly shook his head to silence them.

It only worked for a short while.

Luke and Espella were chattering, Luke picking up a small flower that grew between the cobblestones and handing it to Espella, who was in the process of making a flower crown to put onto Luke’s head.

Phoenix’s brain wandered.

He pictured himself in a wide open field of sunflowers, the sky clear aside from some scattered clouds. It was too warm for his suit jacket, and so he had it wrapped around his waist, it flapping in the wind. Hershel was walking near him, inspecting the flowers as Luke, Maya and Espella played catch in the distance.

And then he stumbled upon it – the most perfect, bright yellow sunflower he’d ever seen, with all petals intact. Carefully, he cut it off before walking over to the professor and pressing it into his hand, tucking Layton’s small, calloused fingers around the stem before meeting the other’s kind eyes as Hershel smiled at him. Hershel’s free hand reached for his, intertwining them as the sun painted his hair hazel, and Phoenix brushed a stray lock out of the dear professor’s forehead before leaning down to plant a gentle kiss to the man’s skin-

The attorney snapped out of it when he saw a small palm being waved in front of his eyes.

“Earth to Mr Wright?,” Luke stated, gauging him with slight concern in his expression.

“Uhm- yeah, sorry, I- I zoned out for a second there,” he stammered, and he hoped the others didn’t notice just how shaken he was.

What in the world had that just been?

Phoenix was a man prone to daydreaming, but he had never, ever pictured himself being this close to another person, to the point to where he could smell their scent, where he could feel the texture of fabric on his body. Well, the last time he’d ever felt this way was back in college, when he’d fallen in love with that woman named Dahlia Hawthorne, a story that was one he preferred not to tell-

Fallen in love?!

His eyes widened.

Oh.

Oh.

“Crap, I’m so in trouble!”

Espella and Luke stopped in their tracks as Phoenix sank down on the nearest rock.

Luke blinked. “In trouble? Are we being chased or something?”

“Hm?” It was then that Phoenix realized he’d said that out loud. “Oh! Oh, no, no, that’s not-”

His two companions exchanged a concerned look before Espella addressed him. “Then what’s the matter, Mr Wright?”

Phoenix thought about the response he was going to give and instantly felt his face flush beet red. Luke and Espella’s frowns deepened.

“You know what?,” Phoenix then said, standing up, “Nothing. Nothing’s the matter. This is just temporary, nothing to worry about.”

Luke and Espella attempted to keep up with him when Phoenix picked up the pace, as if to escape the “nothing” he was talking about.

It didn’t take a magatama to know that this was, in fact, not “nothing” at all.

“What’s nothing to worry about?,” Luke inquired, tugging at the bottom of Phoenix’s suit jacket once he’d caught up to the defense attorney.

Wright stopped in his tracks. The two other eyed him expectantly.

The man crossed his arms.

“What if-,” he began, “what if I’m in love with him?”

Luke and Espella exchanged glances again before Luke gave Phoenix’s jacket another tug. “In love with who?”

He could just say the professor. The two words were on the tip of Phoenix’s tongue, and yet, they felt wrong.

He was so much more than just the professor. He was the man who’d saved his life when a maniac in a knight uniform had raised his sword at him. He was the man who installed the confidence in every group member, encouraging them to keep going despite the exhausting months already behind them. He was the man who’d stolen a horse and left his apprentice alone so he could get to the Alchemist’s residence before Phoenix was supposedly turned to gold.

The man who had the most beautiful eyes and smile in the world, the man whose brown curls glowed in the Labyrinthian sun, the man whose brains could rival Albert Einstein’s, the man who-

Phoenix swallowed, feeling two pairs of eyes on him. If he kept gushing away in his head, those two would never get an answer.

“Hershel,” he settled for, because that was true: He was in love with the human named Hershel Layton, not just the “professor” part. “I’m in love with Hershel.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Following the revelation, a ton of scattered puzzle pieces suddenly found their place for both Luke and Espella.

The way Phoenix’s glances on Hershel had lingered a little too long. The impromptu hug when Hershel had confessed to being afraid himself. The sheer grief and heartbreak in Phoenix’s eyes when seeing Layton’s golden corpse in the hall of justice.

They’d tried their best to keep their teasing down, but sometimes, when Phoenix would get that longing look on his face, it was hard not to break out in a fit of giggles.

None of it was done with malicious intent, naturally. In fact, Luke was ecstatic – the professor had been alone and, well, even more alone for as long as he had known him, not to mention the people that had left him over that brief period of time. His mentor was perfect at hiding his true feelings, but Luke knew that whenever others admired him for his ability to never let personal emotions get in the way of his cases and puzzles, they were complimenting his poker-face; a poker-face the man had perfected over the time.

And Mr Wright was a good man!

Luke liked him a lot. He gave great hugs, made funny jokes, and was very kind and earnest. His loyalty was also something that would be of use in a potential romantic relationship. And he was protective, always eager to defend the ones who couldn’t defend themselves.

Luke would probably go as a far as saying that Phoenix Wright was a true gentleman, and very much worthy of the professor.

If the professor was still alive, that is.

As much as his mentor’s supposed death was weighing on him, Luke couldn’t possibly comprehend how Phoenix, the man who loved Hershel, was dealing with it.

And Luke was correct in the assumption that Phoenix wasn’t exactly able to keep his emotions in check.

"Some water again, hm?," Rouge asked, already opening her cabinet as she spotted Phoenix descending the stairs that night.

But Phoenix raised his hand, urging her to stop. "No, actually. I might need something stronger tonight."

The barkeeper raised an eyebrow. "Really, huh? No offense, but you don't seem the type. Something happen?"

"Eh, kind of," Phoenix sighed, "I need ways to cope."

"Nobody's...died again, right?"

If this situation wasn't so dire, Phoenix would have laughed. If both Maya and Hershel were still with them...yes, he would have laughed.

Or if he had at least some confirmation that they were alive, somewhere, somehow. No matter how absolutely improbable that was.

"No, it's not that," Phoenix said, shaking his head, "Thank god it isn't. I'm not sure how much more I and the rest can take."

Rouge nodded, her expression solemn. "Yeah, I'd bet. So, what do you need a pint for, hm?"

Phoenix could feel himself blushing, which in itself very likely gave him away. But what could he do if this entire thing was just so horribly embarrassing?

"Feelings," he muttered, not meeting Rouge's eyes, "Feelings I don't need."

"Who needs feelings," she scoffed, opening a bottle of wine, "They're just here to make our lives more difficult than they need to be."

"You can say that again," Phoenix agreed, fiddling with his tie as he watched the barkeeper pour him a glass. He'd tried wine once before, and admittedly, it hadn't left a particularly positive impression. But he didn't want to get overly drunk, so spiked grape juice seemed like a solid option. "Thanks," he said as she handed the glass to him.

Rouge rested her forearms on the counter. "If you don't wanna pay for that, you gotta spill. What feelings are keeping you up at night?"

Phoenix shook the glass, creating swirls in the deep red liquid. "Ah, well...I suppose I've told Luke and Espella, might as well tell you..."

"So your companions know, hm?"

"Ah, yeah. I'm not very subtle. I can only pray that he-" The lawyer trailed off. "He can't notice them when he's dead," he concluded, "So forget what I just said."

"It's about Mr Layton," Rouge guessed.

"Yep," Phoenix admitted, then sighed before taking a sip of the wine. It was, surprisingly, pretty tasty. "I, uhm...I'm trying to come to terms with the fact that somewhere along the line, I picked up feelings for him that are, uhm, more than just- platonic."

Rouge blinked for a moment, clearly taken aback. Then, however, she grinned. "You have, have you now? Quite bold of you."

"Oh, yeah," Phoenix snorted, "That's definitely not where I wanted this to go. He's a great guy, super smart, super helpful, super kind. Figured he'd be an amazing companion to help with the whole Labyrinthia and trial business. I did not mean to straight up fall for him, but- when he was killed, I just-"

"Ah, classical," Rouge said, clicking her tongue, "One realizes one loved somebody just after losing them, and now it's too late."

“This sucks, actually,” Phoenix only grumbled, swirling the glass once more, as if to find an answer to all his problems in the deep burgundy liquid. All he found was alcohol and grapes.

Hershel probably could assemble a puzzle out of that.

The lawyer didn’t touch the wine again that night, pouring his heart out to Rouge. She was a stellar listener (surprising for someone who then told him that she was Barnham’s older sister), and happily got rid of the remaining alcohol once Phoenix decided to go to bed after all.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Two days later, on Saturday, a market was being held.

Espella had made a deal with Rouge that she’d bake her bread as a form of payment, and she needed eggs and flour. Bored out of their minds and unable to really do anything else out of the fear of being captured, Luke and Phoenix followed her, successfully avoiding a conversation with Mary, who wanted to talk their ear off about her goat.

“Oh, look! The eggs are being sold over there!,” Luke said, pointing to the stand nearby. It amused him how much he reminded Phoenix of his mentor in that moment; arm stretched out, fingers at the brim of his cap.

“Yes! Thank you, Luke,” Espella said, “If you want to, you can help me later! With the baking, I mean.”

It was surprising how cheerful she was despite the accusations hurled at her.

“I’d love to, Espella! Yay!”

“But we gotta purchase the ingredients first, no?,” Phoenix reminded them, hands in his pockets.

The blonde nodded. “That’s also correct, yes. I trust you haven’t forgotten everything from the time at Patty’s bakery, have you, Mr Wright?”

“Uh, actually, I think I still remember it all,” the lawyer replied after a moment of consideration. “Huh. Maybe I should take up bread baking if I ever make it home.”

They weren’t the only ones in need of eggs. A crowd had gathered around the stand; loud traders and customers complaining about both the fixed and newly offered prices. Luke was being buried under all these people, his height not aiding his case. Phoenix crouched down and allowed the boy to climb onto his back. He was even lighter than imagined.

“Uhm, Espella?,” Phoenix voiced, “Luke and I are gonna – oof – step aside for a bit. There’s far too many people around here. Is that cool with you?”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Espella nodded, pulling her hood further over her head. She’d surrendered her signature two braids in favor of a low bun, creating a far more effective disguise than it should have been. Turned out people in Labyrinthia were face-blind. “You know where to find me.”

Phoenix nodded, carrying a giggling Luke away from the crowd.

And just as they were about to breathe some air that wasn’t full of sweat and other unpleasant odors, something exploded.

It sent them flying into a nearby stack of wooden boxes, Luke having been thrown off Phoenix’s shoulders only to land on his back anyway. The attorney groaned out in pain, and they coughed as the smoke around them slowly cleared.

On second thought, why was it pink?!

“Luke! Mr Wright!,” Espella called out, “Oh, no! Are you hurt?”

“No,” Phoenix said, shaking his head, “I don’t know if my back is gonna forgive me for that, though.”

“I’m terribly sorry, Mr Wright!,” Luke exclaimed, “I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay, Luke,” Phoenix assured him, patting the kid’s back. He was relieved when Luke shot him a smile.

The man took the liberty to look around.

For the fact that a massive explosion had just occurred in the middle of the marketplace, the local shoppers and traders were awfully unfazed.

“What the hell just happened here?,” he dared to ask, albeit well aware that nobody was going to be able to give him an answer.

“The people seem to assume it’s witchcraft,” Espella sighed, “They’ve become so accustomed to this. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were just waiting for the Inquisition to arrive.”

Luke gasped. “But then we’ve got to hide!”

“Wait,” Phoenix stopped him, “Let’s look around before they come here and tamper with the scene. There might be some clues lying around if there’s witchcraft involved.”

The two teenagers were skeptical – they’d hate to risk theirs and Phoenix’s safety for some clues that may or may not exist, but eventually, even they were able to be persuaded.

It was Luke who stumbled upon the little silver bell lying on the ground.

“Hey, what’s this?” He picked it up, turning it between his fingers. It was a small, shiny object, with patterns engraved along the bottom of the bell. If the boy wasn’t mistaken, he could spot the witches’ symbol in there – that large eye.

Espella and Phoenix immediately jogged over. A wise decision – Luke had found the bell in a dark, empty alleyway, and the inquisition just having announced their presence at the scene of the explosion would take a moment to locate them.

“Oh, what a pretty little bell,” Espella commented.

“I’m going to ring it-”

Snatch!

Luke was empty-handed. “Hey!”

A small person in a dark robe was on the run, having sped past them as if they were but a shadow. Luke instantly took on the chase, but his short legs weren’t fast enough to catch up with the mysterious figure.

That is, until the mysterious figure stumbled, knocking over a box of cabbages. Luke proceeded to follow their example and fell to the ground as well. “Ow!”

“Luke!,” Phoenix yelled, “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” the boy sheepishly said.

Espella gasped.

The mysterious person had tilted their head up.

It was Kira.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Kira was alive despite having been cast into the flames before their very eyes.

And as they returned to the witches’ court again, they walked in with heads high and hands to the hips.

Until Luke cheerfully declared that he’d be the guinea pig for the fire pit mechanism.

“Why are we doing this again?,” Phoenix asked, eyebrows reaching up to his hairline as Luke got into the Iron Maiden, tongue sticking out in concentration.

“To see if something’s fishy with this contraption, Mr Wright,” Espella gently reminded him, albeit she didn’t look less troubled.

“Putting a child’s life in danger,” the attorney sighed, shaking his head. “It should be me in there, you know. Luke, you’re good with puzzles, so you’d be the perfect candidate to solve this one, too, and you, Espella, have seen enough of this cage for a lifetime.”

“Don’t worry, Mr Wright!,” Luke called, “I’ll be okay! Besides, you’d wanna see the professor again if he indeed is alive as well!”

Espella broke out in a fit of giggles as Phoenix’s cheeks turned the color of cherries. “There’s a giant “if” in front of that statement, Luke!”

“But don’t you see?,” the boy continued, “If we indeed find out that this fire pit is harmless, which was basically proven when we saw Kira at the market, then this would mean that this was an elaborate trick. Who’s then to claim that this golden spell isn’t a trick as well?”

“Wouldn’t that mean that someone straight up molded a golden Professor Layton to replace him with?,” Phoenix mused.

“I hate to be like that, you two, but don’t we want to get this over with as soon as possible?,” Espella said, tearing them out of their bickering.

“Uh, yeah, you’re right,” Phoenix said, shooting her a sheepish grin, “My bad. Where were we? Ah, yes: Child endangerment.”

A groan could be heard from the cage. “Don’t be so dramatic, Mr Wright! Miss Maya and the professor are waiting on the other side!”

“You sound very confident in that, Luke,” Phoenix muttered, hands already on the handle.

The man hadn’t dared to hope, to play with the possibility that Hershel was still very much alive somewhere. Perhaps being held hostage, or memory-wiped, but not that golden statue left at the courthouse after the trial. Phoenix dreaded to think of the wasted hours of his life if it turned out that they’d indeed been holding a trial for a murder that didn’t even take place, but he’d take that over Layton actually having perished any day.

He only hated that Maya’s sacrifice would be rendered unnecessary.

Well, but maybe that hadn’t been a sacrifice at all – and it was his job to help prove that, so maybe he’d better focus on the task at hand.

“Ready, Luke?,” he called out.

“Ready, Mr Wright!”

“Okay,” Phoenix said, letting out a huff before devoting his heart and soul to the puzzle presented to him.

He owed it to the man who’d told him that every puzzle has an answer.

Not to mention that Phoenix was pretty sure he loved him by now, but that was a thought to be discarded if he wished to keep his sanity.

It took quite a bit of fiddling, but eventually, the mechanism was set in motion, and Espella held her breath as the Iron Maiden fell into the pit with a screech.

The young woman and Phoenix flinched, but wasted no time in rushing to stare down the hole’s surface.

“Luke!,” Phoenix shouted, “Luke, are you all right? Can you hear us?”

Some rustling could be heard underneath before, to their massive relief, a familiar cheeky voice called back, “I’m all right as can be, Mr Wright! I landed in some hay, and I think it’s safe for you to jump in here!”

The lawyer looked at Espella, attempting to gauge her opinion on this matter, but all he received was an equally uncertain look.

Great.

“On three,” the lawyer proclaimed, and Espella nodded in agreement. She did that much quicker than Phoenix had assumed she would, and he internally cursed for now actually having to make a back-flip into that deep, dark hole.

“Are you guys coming?,” Luke’s voice sounded, and Phoenix knew that their waiting time had run out.

“One,” he began.

“Two,” Espella said.

“Three!”

They jumped, and they felt the air whistling by, and they squeezed their eyes shut, when-

“Uhm, guys?”

It was Luke again, blinking at them with his wide, young eyes. It was then that Phoenix and Espella realized that they were currently situated on top of a pile of hay, and said pile of hay was next to a wagon, which looked sort of ominous in the low light.

“Oh, that was a shorter fall than I thought,” Phoenix mused, rubbing the back of his neck.

“No kidding!,” Luke snickered, “But hey, good news – that means Maya is most definitely still fine, and that Kira we saw earlier was not a hallucination, either!”

“Hey, that’s right!,” Phoenix concurred.

They euphoria was cut short by the sound of footsteps approaching.

Instantly, panic sat in – if they were to be discovered sneaking around here, they’d be handed over to Inquisitor Barnham or, worse, to High Inquisitor Darklaw without a second thought. There was no sufficient hiding place, either – there was not enough hay present to cover all of them, and the wagon was completely stuffed with goods.

Unless…

“This is another puzzle!,” Luke hissed, “Come on, let’s get all that stuff out of there and hide!”

Phoenix wanted to protest, to tell the boy that the probability that they’d make it in time was nearing zero, but they had no other choice. And so, he made himself useful by moving the heavy boxes and other objects out of the way, ushering Luke and Espella inside once there was enough free space before following himself, closing the “curtain” as the person they were hiding from approached and claimed the wagon seat.

Another round of panicked glances was exchanged as the vehicle began to move.

Chapter 5: Quiet Moments

Notes:

today's prompt: connection

A lonely forest path was Hershel Layton’s only way out.

He wasn’t sure how in the world he’d wound up here. It was evident, however, that he’d been separated from his companions, and that didn’t do a good job at reassuring him.

What had even happened? The last memory he harbored was him racing to the alchemist’s home to warn Phoenix Wright of his upcoming demise. Inside, he’d stumbled upon Maya Fey, who’d told him Phoenix was busy investigating the basement. Then, a witch had appeared.

A witch…

The word didn’t miraculously return his missing memories to him.

As for now, he had no choice other than to wander around and look for a sign of his friends.

Luke...oh, how he hoped that Luke was all right. If there was one thing he’d promised himself when he took on Luke as his apprentice, and if there was one promise he opted to never break, it was that very promise that he’d never, ever leave Luke alone on their little trips unless it was absolutely necessary.

This? This wasn’t necessary.

And to think they’d been separated for a week already – that was more time than his escapades usually lasted in total!

To be fair, this whole adventure was one of the oddest he’d ever been on. Being sucked into a book, ending up in a medieval town, finding out about witches, defending a young girl in a witches’ court…

Not to mention the two Americans.

Yes, the two Americans.

Hershel admired Maya’s optimism, and her sense of humor. She and Luke were very much on the same wavelength, and it hadn’t taken them long to form a close friendship. Something Hershel was rather relieved about – as much as Luke cherished his relationship with his mentor, he did need peers closer to his age in order not to succumb to the loneliness Hershel was oh so familiar with. Wherever the boy was at the moment, he hoped Maya was with him.

And Phoenix…

God, where would he even start?

The sun rays hit his face as he wandered further, but his thoughts had wandered themselves, far from the objective he should currently be chasing.

Phoenix was remarkable on more levels than Hershel had ever imagined. He was smart and witty, the best of the best when it came to thinking on his feet. He made bluffs work in a court of law, making them seem entirely intentional and planned, and pulled off a victory when everything seemed hopeless.

He was kind and compassionate, always there for his friends, be it Maya, Espella, or even Luke and Hershel themselves. He emphasized with his clients, and Hershel was certain that this trait was playing no small role when it came to shaping him into the incredible lawyer he was.

Phoenix was just as optimistic as Maya, while staying on the realistic side most of the times. Hershel was relieved that Phoenix was always there to pick everyone up, to cheer everyone on when the days got long and exhausting. The man had sure boosted the group morale more times than the professor could count.

And then there were his looks, too. Black hair slicked back into distinctive spikes, allowing his face to fully show. A smirk that melted Hershel’s insides more often than he cared to admit. A tall, strong body, towering over him as the professor merely reached up to Phoenix’s collarbone. The suit made him look all the more dashing, and-

Hershel, why in the world are you thinking about him so much?!

Focus. Forest path, one foot in front of the other.

Oh, and Phoenix was a brilliant baker, too!

Focus. Look for Maya, Luke and Phoenix. Look for Espella.

And the way his heart fluttered in his chest and his stomach filled with butterflies each time they locked eyes, and the wave of happiness that overcame him whenever they spoke!

Focus, Hershel!

Oh, how he wanted to sit close to him, to lean into his side and listen to him talk about his court cases all day, and-

He stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes widening as the penny finally dropped.

Oh, no.

No, no, no.

This answer- this wasn't correct. No, this puzzle he hadn't solved correctly. He would sit down on a fallen tree or a rock and think it through once more, because the conclusion he'd just arrived at was far from what he thought was right, and what should be the answer-

There's no point.

He was one of the most famous puzzle solvers in London, and his solution was almost always right.

The only reason Hershel doubted this one was because he didn't freaking like it.

Unlike Phoenix.

Because he did like Phoenix.

And the answer to the riddle of his mysterious feelings; the flutter in his stomach whenever the lawyer smiled, the way his heart would pick up speed when looking into his eyes, the way he looked forward to every encounter and conversation, even if it was just breakfast, was that he liked him too much.

Well, no, that wasn't quite it.

One couldn't like Phoenix too much. The man deserved to be liked, to be cherished. He was wonderful through and through - his unique way of thinking, his undying belief in not just his clients but the good in people, his loyalty, his unconditional kindness...Hershel was horrified at the thought that he, even after listing so many things in his thoughts, could go on and on. Had he really miscalculated this so badly?

Was this really-?

Face the music, Hershel. You're in love with Phoenix Wright.

At this realization, the professor did indeed sit down on the nearest fallen tree.

What could and would he do with himself? There was no way he'd ever be able to speak to Phoenix again without the alarm bells ringing in his head. He'd feel his heart throb in his chest, feel the heat rising to his cheeks, and he'd be dismayed at how the hat he'd pull in his face to cover the blush would rob him of the ability to look into Phoenix's eyes.

He put his head into his hands, and for the first time in years, he didn’t care that his hat fell off at the action. He’d pick it up in a second, after he’d collected himself.

If he even could collect himself after that very troubling realization.

He was a grown man! A man who’d spent a decade in almost total solitude, at that. Someone who’d come to rely on himself more than anyone else. He didn’t need anyone. He didn’t crave his touch, his love, his-

Except he did.

As if instinctively, he hugged himself. Maybe if he did that, it’d dull his touch starvation; if he only imagined that those were his arms around him, maybe these feelings would go away.

Please, go away.

They weren’t even thinking of it.

Forest path. Find Labyrinthia, find your friends. Solve this town’s mystery and get out of there.

A rustle in the bushes.

Hershel instantly jumped up and picked up his precious hat before setting it back onto his head.

What was that?

A long stick laid on the ground before him, and he bent down to get a hold of it, clutching it tight in self-defense as he frantically looked around.

Nothing.

Then, a scream. More rustling.

He knew that voice.

Hershel immediately followed the sounds, and was nearly stomped over by a group of these strange, robed people. They all were holding long sticks with blades and other weapons, their gas masks making them look even more intimidating, and they were chasing-

Maya?!

Hershel instantly knew he had to act when Maya tripped over a root, letting out another scream. The man jumped in front of the group, holding out his (very effective) stick.

“I’m afraid I have to intervene,” he spoke, voice calm and steady, “After all, protecting a young lady…” He turned around to face Maya with a smile. “Is the duty of every gentleman.”

“Professor!,” Maya breathed in awe.

Hershel turned back around, treating his stick like the sharpest sword ever made. “Now then, which one of you is first?”

The robed figures didn’t react.

Meanwhile, Maya had gotten to her feet, dusting off her skirt. “They’re...they’re not doing anything,” she observed.

“Hm,” Hershel pondered, but she was right. Nobody was making a move to attack them or even threaten to do so. “Then I suggest we get out of here.”

Maya nodded in agreement. “I’m with you, Professor!”

Slowly, they backed away, Hershel still holding out the stick to try and scare the figures off. “Are you all right, Ms Fey?”, he asked when they were out of earshot.

Did they even have ears? And if they did, were they capable of hearing with those gas masks of theirs?

It didn’t matter.

She offered him a thumbs-up. “I’m all good! Let’s get out of here, Professor!”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Hershel nearly keeled over thanks to the information he’d just received. “I was turned to gold?!”

“Crazy, right? But yeah, you were,” Maya said.

They had taken a breather on an empty meadow. On the way, they’d had even more encounters with those robed people, and Maya explained to Hershel that they were called the “Shades.” Whatever that meant, she couldn’t say.

“And you were accused? Mr Wright defended you, am I correct?”

The young woman nodded. "Yeah. God, you should have seen him in court," Maya said, "He was about to grab Barnham's sword and fight him himself. He's never touched a sword before."

Suddenly, her eyes filled with sorrow once more and she looked down at the root she nearly stumbled over. "I guess that was one of the reasons Barnham was so dead-set on getting me convicted. He wanted Nick to stay mad."

“You- you were convicted?”

“Yep. I was thrown into the flames. Next thing I knew, I was here. Alive.”

Hershel nodded solemnly, hand to his chin in thought. "I understand. Mr Barnham does appear to be the kind of man who, either out of ego or loyalty, cannot make peace with the prospect of losing. I must say, I am very relieved to know that you are safe and whole."

"Loyalty," Maya muttered under her breath, "You know, Professor, I'm not usually the one to be real angry or snap, but I really, really hate it here."

Hesitantly, Hershel set a hand on Maya's back, offering what he hoped was a comforting pat. "I'm certain nobody could blame you for feeling this way, Miss Fey. I, too, wish I wasn't here at the moment. I have classes to teach, students to take care of...I'll be lucky if Dean Delmona allows me to keep my position if I ever make it out of here."

Maya looked indignant on his behalf. "They can't fire you! You were literally basically kidnapped! It's not your fault you're here!"

"Perhaps not," Hershel agreed, "But it is up to us to solve this mystery and buy ourselves a free ticket home, so I suggest we do the most in our power to stick together and see this through."

He was relieved to see that joyous smile return to Maya's face when she fist-pumped the air. "You got it, Professor! Team Ace Attorney and, uh...team Layton are on the case!"

"Haha, indeed they are," Hershel said, adjusting his hat, "And I have our first mission for us: Locate and reunite with Luke, Espella and Mr Wright."

"Sounds like a plan!," Maya cheered, "But where do we even start?"

"First things first," Layton said, "Would you mind completely filling me in on what happened in my absence?"

"Sure thing," Maya replied, "But you might wanna hold onto something. This is gonna get crazy."

Layton, out of instinct, actually held on to a nearby branch, causing Maya to giggle.

And she began her story. How Layton had supposedly been turned to gold right before their eyes, and how his arm had snapped off. How Barnham had arrested her and kept her in the dungeon for a week before the trial started. How Phoenix visited her and told her about how heartbroken Luke was over his "death" (she decided not to mention that Phoenix, too, had sounded heartbroken when he had talked of the golden Layton), how the entirety of Labyrinthia had come to witness the trial and how Phoenix had uncovered the mystery behind the alchemist's death.

How in the end of it all, Maya had been cast into the flames because Jean Greyerl was proven innocent in the other case and somehow that translated to Maya being the guilty party here.

“And then I sort of wound up in the forest,” Maya concluded, “I’m not sure when that was exactly, but I was one of these strange creatures that were chasing me earlier. These “Shades”. I had to- do something- I think.” She paused. “I don’t remember.”

Hershel hummed in understanding. “That’s quite all right. Don’t force yourself to remember if you can’t.”

Maya shuddered. “God, that was kinda scary. I didn’t know who I was and why...as if that one time of me being a baker wasn’t enough! Although I’d probably prefer being a baker over this a million times, can’t lie.”

“Your bread was exquisite, but I, too, am rather glad you are yourself once more, Miss Fey,” Layton assured her.

They paused to look up into the clear blue sky. It being summer, the surroundings were green and inviting, as opposed to how dark and cold they imagined this forest to be like during winter.

“So, what now?,” the spirit medium asked, “The forest looks the same in every direction. There’s no freaking way we can find Labyrinthia if we just guess.” Suddenly, she gasped. “Wait, what if- if we’re outside of Labyrinthia? I mean, like...outside that book. Back in our world, but stuck in some forest.”

Hershel entertained the thought. “I’m afraid that’s highly improbable,” he then said, “These creatures in the robes bore the symbol of witchcraft used in Labyrinthia – that eye, remember? And if we look over there-” He shoved a few branches aside to reveal what looked like a large stone wall in the far distance. “-we can see the large wall concealing Labyrinthia. No, if you ask me, I would assume this is simply a forest surrounding the town.”

Maya nodded, shoulders slumped. “Ah, damn. I see.”

Hershel smiled. “Look at it this way, Miss Fey: That means our companions aren’t very far away. Surely it would be far more disappointing for us to realize that we have been transported to a realm where we cannot reach them.”

“Hey, yeah! You’re right!” Maya clasped her fist. “Let’s do this, professor! To see everyone again, and shock them with the news that we’re alive and well!”

“Haha. Yes, that does sound like a splendid idea. Well, then.”

They walked. Wandered for hours. Maya was responsible for the entertainment, enlightening Hershel with stories of past cases and her family while the professor was only listening with half an ear, keeping his tunnel vision on leading the young woman and himself out of there.

It became increasingly difficult when Maya began talking about Phoenix, and how he’d helped her, how he’d bailed her out so many times and that she forgave him a thousand times for not being able to succeed this time, seeing as it was clearly Barnham’s and the system’s fault that it’d ever come to this.

And everything be damned, Hershel loved him.

No!

He couldn’t do that. He couldn’t afford that, not in a million years.

As if on instinct, his hand reached up to touch the brim of his hat. The very hat that Claire had given him all those years ago, and the hat he’d promised to hold onto and never take off to honor her memory.

He couldn’t afford to betray her like this.

If he were to think this through rationally, he’d arrive at the conclusion that he wasn’t betraying anyone at all. After all, it wasn’t uncommon for people to move on after loss and find new love.

But it had been a decade. A decade of firmly holding the promise up that he would never, ever give in to such feelings again, even if it was just to spare himself the hurt that would inevitably come. Was he really ready to throw caution in the wind like this?

Because of a defense lawyer from the United States?

“Hey, professor! Look, a ladder!” Maya turned his attention to a wooden stepladder leaning against a tree, whatever it was doing there. “Ugh, you don’t want to hear Nick’s thoughts on this matter.”

Actually, he did.

And yes, he was ready to throw caution in the wind.

More than ready.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

It was cold down here.

Colder than even in the dungeon, and that had been borderline a refrigerator compared to the sunny outside. But when Luke, Espella and Phoenix found themselves in some underground ruins after climbing through a suspicious hole in the wall in a house-

God, even they couldn’t explain this to themselves.

The wagon had taken them straight to a stable that was adjacent to a mansion. Luke had immediately recognized it as the stable he and the professor had spent their first days in this strange world at, and there was a glimmer of hope reinstalled that this meant they could go home. As much as it had crushed Phoenix, however, he’d gently cut the child off to remind him of what they were here to do.

And Luke didn’t really want to leave without the professor, anyways.

They’d entered the mansion, the door leading them to what looked like a barn – which was certainly unexpected of a building that radiated luxury. In there, robed and masked creatures had been stirring glowing potions that Phoenix didn’t want to know what they did.

One of the potions had been spilled all over the walls in an adjacent room, having the unlucky characteristic of being red and thus almost causing Luke to suffer a fainting spell. And Phoenix had to admit that, even for a man who solved crime for a living, this would have been too much blood for him.

But there’d been a secret exit, and so they’d found themselves in these magical-looking underground halls, with stone pillars and torches and water submerging their surroundings in blue-green light.

It was quiet.

But cold.

“W-wow,” Phoenix said, “Who’d have thought that there’d be some ancient underground ruins here?”

“This place is amazing, isn’t it?,” Espella added, “Look at these large pillars and that stream of water...everything here looks so old. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. And you say this kind of place is called a “roo-in”, is it?”

Espella didn’t know that word?

“Oh, yeah,” Phoenix confirmed, “I guess you don’t really have any ancient ruins like this within Labyrinthia, huh?”

“Ancient ruins,” Luke muttered to himself, head sinking.

Phoenix felt his heart clench. “Something wrong, Luke?”

“It’s just…” The boy rubbed his arm. “This reminds me of the professor. If he were here, he could tell us anything we wanted to know about these ruins.”

“Ah, that’s right. The professor was an archaeologist.”

Luke nodded. “Yeah. Sometimes I can almost hear the professor’s kind words calling out. Even now...I can almost hear his voice.”

Oh, the sniffle that followed broke Phoenix in two. How could he possibly comfort the boy in this situation, being reminded of his father figure like this?

Fuck, this world wasn’t fair!

“Me too,” Phoenix admitted, “I can almost hear the professor’s voice.”

That managed to cheer Luke up. Not in the way Phoenix wanted it to, but he’d take it. “Yeah,” Luke teased, “Of course you would.”

“Oh, Luke! Cut it out!”

“I can almost hear Maya’s voice, too,” Espella said.

“Yeah, me too,” Phoenix agreed.

Wait a minute.

“Now then,” someone said, and Phoenix knew who it was by the way his heart flipped, “Let’s check over there…”

“Professor!,” a second voice said, “Over here!”

“Those voices just now!,” Luke exclaimed, jumping up and down, “It has to be…!”

“Yeah,” Phoenix breathed, “There’s no mistaking it.”

“Professor!,” Luke shouted, “PROFESSOR!”

Hershel’s top hat came into view. “Luke! What are you doing here?”

"Professor!," Luke yelled, and his little legs immediately bolted in Hershel's direction, the man barely able to hold himself upright as the boy threw his arms around his waist. "It's really you!"

Hershel blinked, a little overwhelmed by the situation, but gladly returned the embrace, even if a little awkwardly. "Yes, it's me, my boy. I'm so sorry, I must have caused you quite a bit of worry."

Judging from Luke's reaction, that was indeed the case. Hershel's heart clenched as the poor kid sobbed into his orange shirt, and he did his best to comfort him, offering pats to his back in hopes of soothing him.

It only could have been awful - believing he had been dead for almost a month. And by god, Hershel was just as relieved that Luke was safe and whole. Naturally, he had trusted Mr Wright to take care of and protect him, but Labyrinthia was such an odd place, and the professor failed to assess its predictability.

"NIIIIICKKK!," Maya yelled, throwing herself into Phoenix's arms.

"Maya- oof!" Phoenix instantly wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her. Tears shone in his eyes as he buried his nose in Maya’s hair, thinking he'd never get to smell that raspberry shampoo which strangely still hadn't lost its scent despite last having been used four or so months ago again. "I'm so glad you're okay."

"Yep, yep! Me too!" The young woman let go. "You'll never believe all the shit we saw, like jeez. I was brainwashed again, are you hearing that?"

Phoenix grimaced, hand on her shoulder. "Ew, that sucks. I'm sorry."

"Yes, it was quite the experience," Hershel said, Luke now finally having let go of him. Upon hearing the man's voice, Phoenix turned his head towards him. Neither of them anticipated the bolt of electricity shooting through their entire form at the eye contact.

If he were to decide, Phoenix would have hugged the professor just as tightly as Maya had him. He wanted to hold him, to shake him, to kiss him senseless and tell him to never do this to him again.

He wouldn't do that, naturally.

But god, he wanted to.

It was then that they realized that the professor and Maya weren’t alone. With them stood, against all odds, High Inquisitor Darklaw.

“Wait- Darklaw?,” Phoenix questioned.

Hershel nodded. “Yes. We met her in this mansion by the riverside. It turns out that she is the master of these robed figures called the “shades”.”

“I’m terribly sorry for all the anguish that has befallen you,” the High Inquisitor stated. “This town...it’s full of secrets. Secrets I and you will gradually reveal. But for now, I am on your side. And call me Eve, for that is my name.”

“Eve?,” Espella echoed, “Hey, like my cat!”

Darklaw – Eve – gritted her teeth in a pained expression, but nodded. “Yes. Like your cat.”

“Hey, wait,” Phoenix backtracked, “Let’s take it slow, all right? I don’t get anything-”

“You are not supposed to,” Eve interrupted.

“Yeah. Makes total sense.”

Hershel smiled. “Not to worry, Mr Wright. I am puzzled myself, but it appears that Eve is genuine. We shall figure it out as we go.”

The trust he’d placed in Hershel showed itself in the fact that the second the professor spoke these words, Phoenix calmed. “Yeah, okay. Cool.”

Layton nodded, and Phoenix was beside himself.

The man was alive! Alive and well, made of flesh and blood instead of glimmering metal!

“You’re okay!,” Phoenix suddenly exclaimed, voice laden with joy, “Damn it, Hershel, we all thought you were a goner!”

It hadn’t even registered in Phoenix’s mind that he had just casually referred to the legendary Professor Layton by the man’s first name without thinking twice, but luckily for him, Layton didn’t seem to mind. Either that, or he himself hadn’t registered it either.

The professor just blinked, a little taken aback. “I’m all right. I must admit, I have no clue how in the world I was a gold statue, but…”

“Doesn’t matter,” Phoenix grinned, “You’re here, and you’re okay.” He playfully poked Hershel in the chest. “That’s what matters.”

Maya walked over to where Luke, Espella and Eve were standing, pouting and hands on her hips. “You’d think after seeing his assistant fall into a literal pit of fire, Nick would be more ecstatic to see me.”

“I feel like I have missed something significant,” Eve said, nonchalantly, her arms crossed.

Espella chuckled. “You could say that!”

If the High Inquisitor were to be honest, “significant” was a severe understatement. Phoenix’s entire face had lit up as if the moving, breathing professor in front of him was the sun itself. Eve could see the twitch in the lawyer’s fingers, as if he was doing anything in his power not to reach out and touch Layton, be it to convince himself he actually was real or for some other reason entirely.

She remembered the day she’d first observed them interacting with each other; the day they’d gone to talk to her and Barnham in the inquisitor’s room. Their tone had been casual, if a little cautious around the man who had tried to behead Phoenix with that sword of his.

Eve was relieved that Barnham, too, had come to his senses. If the way he’d directed the group to safety was anything to go by, at least.

Now, however? Both Phoenix’s and Layton’s eyes seemed softer when looking at each other. None of the previous stoicism and professionalism seemed to be getting in their way, and if Eve had less decency and common sense, she would have instantly dubbed this love.

Maybe she should be throwing her decency and common sense aside for this one, she thought to herself.

“Hihi!,” Espella giggled, covering her mouth with her palms as to not be too obvious.

“See, Espella, that kind of giggle makes me feel as though I’ve missed something,” Eve restated.

“Okay, fine,” the young woman said, gesturing for both Eve and Maya to step closer to her. “Don’t tell him I told you, otherwise he’s going to prove me guilty next time, okay?”

Eve and Maya exchanged a look, but nodded.

“Spill,” Maya demanded.

Espella whispered the truth into their ears. The second Maya received the news, her eyes went wide to the size of dinner plates. “WHAT?!,” she shrieked.

“Pshhhh!,” the other three hissed, waving to silence her.

But such a loud scream never went unnoticed. Phoenix raised an eyebrow. “Everything okay over there?”

Maya seemed to have forgotten she’d been salty just a moment ago, lightly jumping up and down in sheer excitement. “Yes! Everything’s peachy!”

Phoenix frowned at the response, but wisely chose not to inquire further.

“Well, then,” Layton said, hand on the brim of his hat as he brought the garment back into a comfortable position, it having been askew ever since Luke had tackled him with the hug, “Now that we’re all back together, I suggest we attempt to find a way out of these ruins.”

“Seems like the gate over there is blocking our way,” Phoenix remarked.

Maya’s eyes lit up. “Hehe, and I’ve got just the solution for that!” With a swift motion, she pulled a key, a key that Eve had apparently given them barely moments prior, out of her pocket. It shone even in the light of the fire illuminating the underground cave.

“I’m gonna go on a leap and guess this whole lock business is some kind of puzzle,” Phoenix said.

Hershel, who had been inspecting the lock for the past few minutes, turned around to face the group. “I must say, I’m impressed. Yes, this indeed appears to be a puzzle.”

“Called it,” Phoenix triumphantly said.

“What’s more,” Hershel continued, “I have reasons to believe that this is a puzzle only to be solved with that unique expertise of yours.”

Phoenix blinked. “Wait- mine?”

Hershel nodded, a gentle smile on his face. “Yes, yours. And I have full faith in you that you will do it justice and lead us to the solution.”

Aw, jeez.

Phoenix hoped the blush on his cheeks was being chalked up to the flattery by the rest of the group as he took the key from Maya’s hands. “Thanks, Prof- Hershel. I, uh, I appreciate it.”

“Of course!” Hershel chuckled – really chuckled – and bowed in a dramatic fashion. “It is an honor to once again team up with you, Mr Wright.”

Phoenix let out a laugh, but indulged him. Of course he’d indulge him. “The honor is all mine, Professor Layton.”

Maya and Espella squealed, Luke clapped his hands, and Eve raised an eyebrow as Phoenix stepped up to fiddle with the lock, and Hershel smiled proudly when Phoenix’s “Objection!” to the puzzle echoed through the entire underground hall.

This was going to get utterly ridiculous.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

They navigated through the ruins more quickly than they’d navigated through anything else during their entire journey through this town.

It was a matter of necessity, of course – they didn’t exactly have food or clean water in here, and it was in their best interests to wrap up their investigation as soon as possible before locating an exit.

There was the “Seal of Leviathan”, a puzzle that Espella and Eve solved following Hershel deciphering some ancient scripture on a stone. Yes, Phoenix had whistled, impressed, and yes, Maya had laughed.

He deserved that much.

Then followed the “Seal of Despair”, a bridge that Luke and Maya placed back together only for the boy to jump around and nearly throw Phoenix off. With his almost pathetic fear of heights, the attorney hadn’t found this very funny, but to be honest, he wasn’t particularly eager about the perspective of falling into a raging river again.

If there even was a river down there.

That bridge led them to another room.

It was darker in here than in the remaining ruins. Two statues guarded a stone gate, and a contraption in the middle of the man told them that this was another puzzle to be solved.

“This is the final one, right?,” Luke asked.

“Indeed,” Hershel replied, “The gates of destruction will open once the Seal of Sages is broken.” He titled his face up. “It seems our turn has come, Mr Wright.”

Completely not focused on memorizing the beauty of Hershel’s cute little wrinkles and the curl sticking out of the hat, Phoenix flinched as he was spoken to. “Huh?! Oh- yes!” He smirked. “I’ve been really looking forward to this, Hershel.”

This man would be the death of him, Layton thought.

“All right. This is a puzzle that cannot be solved by one person alone. I believe we must combine our strength if we are to have any hope of opening that door. How fitting that the final seal should present us with such a formidable challenge.” The professor’s eyes twinkled with excitement. “Phoenix, I have no doubt that together, we can solve this puzzle. Shall we begin?”

God, the hearts were floating around Phoenix’s head at this rate. He looked like a goddamn love-struck teenager; he didn’t require a mirror to deduce that much.

He loved it.

“Ready when you are, Professor!”

And solve the puzzle they did. Maya, Luke, Espella and Eve leaned back against a wall as they watched the two men work, discuss solutions, place stones around, finish each others thoughts and sentences as if they had some sort of neurological link. When they finally settled on one of the rocks and placed it into the designated space, they high-fived and stepped back to see what would happen.

The gate opened. Slowly, making a screeching noise as the heavy doors groaned and moved apart, but it opened.

Phoenix gripped Hershel by his waist, and, with surprising strength, spun him around before setting him back down. "We did it! We solved the puzzle!"

For a moment, Hershel was too stunned by the action to properly react. He simply blinked up at the other man, not sure what to do with his hands, before letting out a quiet laugh.

It occurred to him how beautiful Phoenix's eyes were.

Irises as dark blue as the ocean at night, peaceful, but very much able of raging as if during a storm whenever he was behind the defense's bench and spreading justice. Now, they were sparkling with joy and triumph.

Hershel couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so much happiness over solving a puzzle, but this very occasion gave him the impression that maybe he should be feeling just that more often.

"Yes- yes, we indeed did," the professor stammered after Phoenix let him go, and if the scholar wasn't mistaken, there was a faint blush staining Phoenix's cheeks.

Goodness, that is adorable.

It was unbelievable how with every passing second he spent with that man, he was falling deeper and deeper.

Not much longer, and he'd fall beyond a point of getting up.

Hershel dreaded to think about what he'd do with that fact.

A second later, he realized that they were still staring into each other's eyes as if they hadn't just made a groundbreaking advancement in their mission, and they broke the gaze in a perhaps too quick motion, their heads snapping to the sides.

"Oh, no, go on," Maya's teasing voice sounded, "I mean, yeah, we did just open the last gate to get to the answer behind Labyrinthia, but I don't mind watching you lovebirds admiring each other for a bit longer."

"Seconded!," Luke giggled.

"Psshhh, what are you talking about," Phoenix stammered, running a hand through his less-than-perfect spikes to make them immaculate once more.

The humidity in these ruins really wasn't doing his hairdo any good.

Hershel cleared his throat, coughing into his hand to get steer the group's attention away from the two of them. "I suggest we make our way forward. I am, quite frankly, growing tired of this place and wouldn't mind some fresh air."

"Yeah, what he said," Phoenix immediately agreed, pointing to the large hall behind the gate.

Luke, Maya, Espella and Eve shrugged, all of them with a grin plastered to their faces that could almost be described as devious, but followed the two men inside.

Blue light nearly blinded them, a stark contrast to the rather dimly lit remainder of the ruins. The ceilings in this room seemed even taller than they'd been in the initial hall with all the pillars and the puzzle lock, the water still ever present and dripping from the top. What, however, captured the troupe's attention was the platform sitting in the far end of the room.

It was rather large, with stairs leading up to it. In addition, however, it was completely empty.

One didn't have to be Professor Layton to deduce that something important was missing from there.

“It looks like a shrine of some sort,” Phoenix said, being the first to break the silence.

“It certainly is very beautiful,” Espella agreed, “That light is almost unearthly.”

“It’s not like the rest of the ruins at all! It’s actually really well preserved!,” Luke added.

“I wonder if someone else came here before us,” Layton hummed, making a few steps into the hall.

Maya clapped her hands. “C’mon, guys. I think we can relax a bit. Especially after that puzzle that almost made Nick pass out – for various reasons.”

Phoenix squinted. “The hell does that mean, Maya?”

“It means that you nearly passed out from both the difficulty and from the fact that the love of your life was staring into your-”

“Okay, that stops here,” Phoenix grumbled, red exploding on his cheeks. How the hell did Maya know about this all of a sudden, anyway?! The remark back when Hershel and him had solved the puzzle, too! “But you’re kinda right about the whole relaxing thing. I honestly thought Bezella would come charging at us the second we opened the door and, I dunno, turn us all into frogs or something. But it looks like she’s a no-show.”

“Regardless, I suggest we scour the room for any potential clues,” Hershel said. And the most important clue was obviously the pedestal.

“It would appear something quite large once stood here. Perhaps an object of worship,” Layton mused as they stepped closer.

“Something large?,” Maya repeated.

Luke pointed upwards. “Look up there! Above the shrine!”

“Hm,” Eve said, gauging the ceiling, “It looks like there are marks all over the wall.”

“Whatever was on this pedestal must have been even larger than I originally thought,” the professor concluded.

Phoenix rubbed his chin in thought. “Yeah, but it seems that whatever it was has been taken away for some reason. I wonder why…”

“The inscription on this stone plaque could perhaps offer us a clue. Although I’m afraid the words in this inscription are somewhat ancient.”

Maya looked dejected. “So you can’t read what it says?”

Hershel shook his head, and it was clear to Phoenix how much it bugged him that he was of no help in this matter. “It would be quite a different story if I were able to take this relic back to London for analysis. As it stands now, however, I may only be able to decipher a portion of it.”

Luke was still thrilled. “Really, Professor? What does it say?”

Hershel stepped closer, narrowing his eyes to be able to read the engravings. He’d been toying with the idea of looking into reading glasses for a while now, and supposed he should get to it sooner than not. But for now, his eyes would have to suffice.

“Need a lift?,” Phoenix joked after the man had been silent for quite a bit. “They’re a bit high up.”

Thank goodness Hershel was standing with his back to Phoenix, this concealing the blush on his face. “Please, Phoenix. I can read them just fine.”

“Okay,” Phoenix said, but the smug smirk never disappeared from his face.

“It seems as if the previous inhabitants of these ruins were responsible for this inscription,” Hershel finally stated, “While the inscription itself would appear to provide yet another mystery to be solved. Allow me to read it out loud: The former inhabitants of these ruins created a bell out of pure silver as a tribute to the gods they worshiped here.”

“So they made a giant silver bell,” Phoenix summarized.

“However, when the bell was rung, it did not summon a god, but instead, an evil demon. This evil demon brought upon this world a great catastrophe, causing considerable damage to the land.”

“What?!,” Maya exclaimed, “But what could have happened?!”

“Those that survived the incident dubbed it the “Bell of Ruin” and sealed it within this very room,” Hershel said, “They then fled in fear of the curse placed upon this land by the demon. The inscription contains one final warning: To those who have gained entry into this sanctum, heed our words. You must not ring the Bell of Ruin.” He crossed his arms. “That is as much as I can gather. I believe the object that was removed from this shrine was the very Bell of Ruin mentioned in the inscription.”

“Professor, could this have anything to do with Bezella?,” Luke asked.

Yeah, that was the question, wasn’t it?

“I cannot say for sure, Luke. After all, demons and witches are two very different concepts. However, perhaps there is a chance that the two are connected in origin, through this legend.”

Phoenix stepped up. “Origin, Hershel?”

“Think back to what was written,” Layton urged, “What followed the great catastrophe?”

Maya put her hand to her cheek. “You must mean the “curse placed upon this land” part, right?”

Hershel nodded. “I imagine that when the bell was rung, it must have summoned “something”.”

“What sort of curse could that have been?,” Espella inquired, “And what was this “great catastrophe” brought upon by the demon?”

Her eyes suddenly widened.

“Wait...could- could it be…?”

Of course: The Legendary Fire. The very event that still had traces left all over the town.

She went pale, ears completely blocking out the concern of her friends. It was a voice...a voice telling her who she was...it sounded familiar, almost paternal, but it told her…

“I am Bezella,” she suddenly stammered, “The Great Witch Bezella…”

“Espella!,” Luke yelled, but it was too late.

She ran, leaving the group of five behind in the altar room.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Espella wasn’t anywhere to be found.

Eve volunteered to enter Labyrinthia and look for her, seeing as no suspicion was placed on her. She could enter and leave as pleased, but when she returned after sun had set, there was no news.

Why did everything have to go wrong?

The group decided to spend the night in the forest, hoping that the young woman would somehow make her way to them, but no such luck.

They ate berries for breakfast before continuing to stroll through the woods, that Eve informed them were called the “Eldwitch Woods”, without finding a single trace.

“I have my suspicions that Espella has been captured,” Hershel said after a while, his expression darkening. “If that is indeed the case, I must insist that I teach you how to defend yourself in case of confrontation. Aside from Ms Darklaw, of course – as the High Inquisitor, I presume you have come in contact with swords and other weaponry before?”

Eve nodded. “I indeed have. I’ll just sit back and watch.”

“Alright!,” Maya said, cracking her knuckles in determination, “I wanna be first.”

“Very well,” Hershel nodded. The professor picked up two long and thick sticks off the ground, handing one to Maya. “Now, Miss Fey, you want to make sure that you’re holding it properly. Pretend this is a sword – you’d want to be able to apply it at every angle possible, which is why you need a convenient hand position.”

Maya attempted to copy Hershel's grip on the sword – no, stick. The professor watched with a critical expression before it softened again. “Good work. Now, some of the basics…”

Phoenix, who was propped up against a tree, knew that it probably wouldn’t do him any harm to pay attention as well. After all, Layton wasn’t doing these lessons for the fun of it – the threat of angry knights combing through the forest to locate them was a very real one.

Watching Hershel sword-fight, however, even if it was just with a piece of wood, disabled his focus.

Hershel was so graceful, so elegant; as if he was one of the three musketeers. At the same time, he treated Maya with respect, not disarming her simply for the fun of it, preferring to teach her instead. When Maya returned to Phoenix’s side, she had beads of sweat glistening on her forehead.

“Whew,” she panted, “That was insane, Nick! I feel so much more powerful now. C’mon, you gotta try to?”

“Are you sure you don’t just want to see me make a fool of myself?,” Phoenix joked, getting up anyway.

“I don’t have to watch you sword-fight for that one, Nick,” she snickered.

Ouch.

Regardless, Phoenix walked over to the professor, who handed him the stick Maya had been previously using. “Do I have an advantage because I’m taller?,” Phoenix asked, still in a joking tone.

Hershel smirked. “You wish, Phoenix.”

Fuck, that was hot.

“Have you been paying attention so far?,” Hershel asked, and against his better judgment, Phoenix nodded.

“Absolutely.”

“Very well,” Hershel nodded, “Then let’s not waste any time.”

Phoenix wasn’t sure what sort of supernatural powers possessed him as he dueled the great Professor Hershel Layton, but he held out far longer than he thought he would. The sound of sticks hitting one another wasn’t quite as epic as the one of blades, but Phoenix felt his pulse quicken at the intensity of this odd little workout, and he only remembered to take a proper breath when, as a result of their natural movements during a sword-fight, Phoenix’s stick ended up being knocked out of his hand as he fell to the grass, and he felt the rough surface of wood scratching his chin.

“Well fought, Phoenix,” Hershel said, and a shiver ran down Phoenix’s spine as Hershel’s warm breath tickled his nose.

Only then did it occur to him how awfully little distance was between their faces.

Hershel grew impossibly red.

Fuck, that’s even hotter.

“Gee, thanks, Professor,” Phoenix teasingly said, “Hats off to you. You’re a great teacher, I can see how you came to your profession.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it.” For some reason (or, well, rather for a known reason, but one that Hershel still disliked to acknowledge), the professor felt reluctant to withdraw the “sword”, but out of courtesy he did it anyway, offering Phoenix a hand.

The lawyer took it, allowing himself to be pulled up by the shorter man.

“Well, I think that’s the best we can do on such a short notice,” Hershel said after clearing his throat, discarding his stick just a little too quickly.

Eve stood up, stretching herself. “You’re not gonna teach the kid?”

“I’d rather avoid Luke getting into combat with grown knights,” Hershel explained, to which Luke let out a whine of protest. “Now, my boy. I’m certain you’d be capable of learning, but I hope you understand that I’d hate to put you in such danger. Especially after all you’ve already been through.”

Luke nodded, his expression softening as Hershel squeezed his shoulder. “Okay. I understand, Professor.”

“Well then,” Eve said, “Let’s move on.”

They walked in silence, Layton and Eve leading them through the endless trees and bushes. Maya took the opportunity to playfully box Phoenix in the ribs. “Yo, Nick,” she whispered, the devious grin on her face audible, “That sure was something, huh?”

Phoenix grunted. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Aw, c’mon, don’t give me that,” she said, continuing to box him. If she didn’t stop, this could get really painful in the long run, Phoenix thought to himself. “That sword- uh, stick against your chin? That was spicy.”

“Okay, Maya, shut up,” Phoenix hissed, “None of that was “spicy”. This was just...sword-fight stuff. You think he gets like that with everyone he sword-fights against?”

“What, are you jealous?”

“No! I mean, he probably does, right? Like I said, normal sword-fight stuff.”

The young woman full-on snickered. “My bad, but that was not normal sword-fight stuff. Not in a million years. The sparks were flying, Nick. Heck, there were so many of them, they basically blinded us!”

“I’m pretty sure y’all can still see very well,” Phoenix retorted, and Maya groaned in response, rolling her eyes.

“You have to act on it before we leave!,” Maya urged him, boxing him again.

“First of all, this hurts, Maya,” Phoenix said, “And second of all, if we leave. Not when.”

“We better,” she grumbled.

Thank god that was the end of their conversation.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

They found Espella hiding behind a pine tree.

“Espella!,” Maya called out when she spotted her, and the blonde had instantly retreated into herself.

It took Eve to lure her out of hiding. “Espella, please be reasonable and come out,” she pleaded, “We’re here to help you.”

“Yeah!,” Luke agreed, “We’ll fix this!”

The girl sighed, but stepped out from behind the tree. “I’m sorry, “ she muttered, “I shouldn’t have left you worried. It was just-”

“We understand,” Hershel assured her, “And we’re not angry with you. Please, would you rejoin our group?”

The smile that formed on her face was worth every moment they’d spent searching for her. “Okay.”

She was fed and clean up, having ended up in the village of the robed figures, the Shades. High Inquisitor Darklaw quickly admitted that this was because she was in control over them, and that yes, they were a group of people previously cast into the flames as a result of verdicts. In fact, she was the one that they called the “Great Witch”, and who provided them with tasks. Why she’d chosen that title for herself, however, remained unclear.

Phoenix had questions.

“So, what’s the deal with you being here?,” he asked her while Layton, Luke and Maya were busy making sure Espella was unharmed.

Eve’s expression turned serious. “I’ve...I’ve changed my mind.”

“Wait, about what?”

“I was naive,” Eve admitted, “And followed the Storyteller blindly, unaware what he was truly up to. I watched Espella’s witch trial like a hawk, just wanting to get rid of witches, much like everyone else. But it struck me as wrong – she’s his daughter, so why would he want to frame her? I played along, suspecting a more complex plan, and incriminated her as Bezella – and only then did I realize that he wasn’t kidding. At all.”

“He wasn’t…?”

“The Storyteller has lived a rough life, and he’s tired. He’s looking for a scapegoat, and he’s found it, and so he’s preparing the pits of hell for her. Actual ones.”

This was like a punch to the gut. “Wait, so- he wants her dead?!”

Eve nodded solemnly. “I have reasons to believe he does. I’m horribly ashamed to admit that for a long time, I have supported his agenda, and...well, wanted to support him in most of his endeavors. Which is partly why I took on the role as the High Inquisitor, naturally.”

Phoenix grimaced. “Wow, okay, this just got way darker than it already was. What the hell.”

“Espella is not the Great Witch,” Darklaw stated, “In fact, I have reasons to believe that a “Great Witch” doesn’t exist at all.”

Phoenix ran a hand through his hair. “Well, thank god. I was worried the people around here had lost their minds. I mean- witches, and a Great Witch as the source of all evil? Dang.”

Eve raised her eyebrows, unimpressed. “Must I remind you that for a week straight, you believed in those very same concepts?”

“You mean, thanks to the memory spell or whatever I was put under by, let me guess, anyone of you guys?”

“Touché,” Eve relented, “It’s obvious to me why you’re a defender. You know your way around words and arguments.”

Phoenix proudly polished his badge with his sleeve.

“Regardless,” Eve continued, “The citizens of Labyrinthia are convinced that such a figure exists, and so does Espella. I kindly ask you not to shatter her worldview and trust by claiming otherwise. If she is to ever receive justice and closure, it would do no good to invalidate her fears and beliefs.”

“Yeah, no, of course,” Phoenix reassured her, “I wouldn’t do that. But thanks for clarifying all that. It probably wouldn’t hurt to let Hershel know-”

“Oh, he knows,” Eve cut him off, “He’s Professor Layton. I brought him and Luke here for a reason. I knew that they’d help me get to the bottom of this and make sure Espella escapes unharmed.”

Phoenix blinked. “What, you mean he knew all along?!”

“No,” Eve shook her head, “But it didn’t take him long to piece the puzzle together once he and Miss Fey encountered the shades and the figure they call the “Great Witch”, as well as the young women who were previously cast into the fires.”

“Wait, so the trick mechanism of the fire pit is also your doing? The Storyteller is so out for blood?!”

Once more, the High Inquisitor shook her head. “Again, no. Do you seriously think he wants that many murder charges on his shoulders? No, he throws the women out, and leaves them to fend for themselves. I am the one who set up the shades’ village.”

“But he believes in witchcraft?”

This time, Eve nodded. “Yes, he does. Wholeheartedly.”

She didn’t tell him that she was the one making it work. They’d find out in due time. There was no point in overwhelming the foreigners with so much information at once – this was a secret they had to uncover step by step, leading Arthur Cantabella by the hand as they did so.

Eve herself held little power over their corrupt and rotten leader.

But she did hold power over Phoenix Wright if she picked her teasing remarks correctly. “So, you two are on first name basis already, hm?”

“Huh?”

“You know, I figured as a defense lawyer, you’d be more formal when addressing your fellow investigators.”

Phoenix felt his heart skip a beat. Where was this going? “Uhm, I mean- yeah, he’s an investigator, too, but I kinda like to think he’s my friend first and foremost.”

“Friend, hm? What a shame, isn’t it?”

Phoenix had a bad feeling about this. How in the world would Eve Darklaw of all people know- “What- what do you mean?”

“I have eyes, Sir Blue Knight,” she teased, “And insider info.”

“Don’t you start with that nickname too,” Phoenix groaned.

“I’ll consider it,” she said, “But I’m right, aren’t I? You wish you and Professor Layton were more than friends.”

“I low-key wish the ground would open and swallow me whole, but good guess,” Phoenix muttered, not meeting her eye. He wouldn’t give her the pleasure of seeing him as red as a freshly picked apple. “You’re right. I don’t know how I got myself into this, but by the time I realized, it was too late.”

“My apologies about the entire gold statue incident, then,” Eve mused.

Phoenix squinted. “Don’t tell me that you’re behind this. And to think that Maya was convicted and-”

“I’m terribly sorry about that as well,” the woman said, “It wasn’t meant to end this way, but Inquisitor Barnham is, unfortunately, the Storyteller’s most loyal knight. Even more loyal than me, and I’m certain he’s aware of that. He does what he wants, and his own mindset prevents him from pursuing justice and truth above anything else.”

Phoenix nodded. “Yeah, I kinda figured. Not to mention he can use that sword of his to behead me if he feels like it.” His cheeks, which had taken on a normal color, reddened once more. “That, uh, that was kinda what did it for me. When he rushed to defend me, to save my life...and battled Barnham in the middle of the freaking courtroom...just…” He sighed. “Wow.”

Oh boy, that man is in deeper than I thought, Eve thought to herself, but resorted to pat Phoenix’s shoulder in sympathy that was both genuine and meant to mock him. “Well, in that case, I wish you the best of luck, Sir Blue Knight.”

“Hey, you said you’d stop!,” Phoenix whined.

Eve chuckled. “No. I said I would consider stopping.”

“Nick!,” Maya called, waving them over, “We found a good spot for camp. We’re all hungry and tired, so you better not say no.”

Phoenix eyed the meadow, trying to fulfill his duty of complaining about anything at all, but in all honesty, he didn’t care – he was just as hungry and tired as everyone else. “All right. Let’s take a break.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Luke was washing his mouth with the clear water from a nearby creek, rubbing at his cherry-stained fingers.

The sun was throwing rays through the voluminous tree crowns of the Eldwitch Woods, warming up the soil as well as the people currently trying to figure out whether any of the odd-looking mushrooms scattered throughout the are were edible at all. Phoenix had dubbed each and single one poisonous while Maya was convinced they could try each and every one and still make it out alive. Hershel insisted they looked for something more conventional before taking a bite from a blue mushroom with white dots, both Espella and Eve agreeing with the arguably most reliable man in the group.

Luke sprinted back towards their little camp, Espella's woven basket filled to the brim with rich, red cherries. "I'm back!," he announced, holding up the basket. "And I brought dessert!"

"Hey, that's great, Luke!," Maya said, jumping up, her eyes glistening at the word "dessert".

"Yeah! And I only ate a single cherry, will you believe it?"

"Haha," Hershel laughed, "While that does sound rather unbelievable, I am willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, my boy."

"I knew I could count on you, Professor!" Luke placed the basket on the grass. "What else are we making?"

"Mushrooms!," Maya exclaimed.

"Absolutely no mushrooms," Phoenix protested.

"I, unfortunately, must agree with Phoenix," Hershel said, "So far, we have yet to lay our eyes on any mushrooms we might now from our world, and as long as we haven't done so, I am of the opinion that none of us should experiment with strange-looking foods."

"You guys are no fun," Maya pouted.

"I'd rather be the most boring person on the planet than pathetically die from a blue mushroom, Maya," Phoenix said.

"We do, however, have some apples," Espella's voice rang out. The rest of the group looked back to see the girl as well as Eve walking towards them, a bunch of apples being held up by Espella in her wide skirt.

"And some of the shades kindly enough lent us some of their potatoes and meat," Eve added.

"They got meat around here?, "Phoenix inquired, puzzled.

Eve nodded. "Yes. As their commander, I make sure they have enough to eat and possess the required skills to feed themselves. I'm sure the storyteller would disagree with my kindness to them, seeing as he's so...well, rather convinced that these casted out people are indeed witches, but I can use his obliviousness to treat them the way they deserve to be treated."

"And that includes making sure they don't starve," Espella finished, scattering the apples onto the grass next to the basket of cherries. "We'll have to be careful not to bite into a worm."

"Eugh, yeah, that would be nasty," Maya gagged.

"What about the fire, Professor?," Eve proceeded to ask.

Hershel was still spinning the wooden stick, albeit now, some small smoke clouds could be made out. "I'm not quite there yet, but I assure you, it will not take long," he said, attempting to sound reassuring, "I'm no expert when it comes to fires, so my apologies if this takes more time than expected."

"No worries, Hershel," Phoenix said, giving the professor an emotional support thumbs-up. For not being an expert when it comes to fires, the man was sure rather hot.

He didn't say that.

The group erupted in cheers when about a minute later, a flame actually appeared, reflecting on Layton’s face in tones of red and orange. Eve, who had seasoned the meat with some herbs she’d located on the forest pathway, put it in the pot lent by the shades and hung it on top of the contraption Phoenix and Luke assembled.

“Now we wait,” she stated, crossing her arms, while Layton blew on the flame to make sure it wouldn't fade on them.

In addition to their open fire, the sun was also insistent on frying them. Hershel’s coat lay discarded on the grass, his sleeves rolled up as he reached up to get rid of the sweaty locks matted to his forehead. The one thing he hadn’t considered removing was his hat, albeit there was no doubt it was playing no small role in ruining his curls.

That somehow made him look even more attractive than Phoenix already thought he was.

In fact, the attorney was sure he’d combust if Hershel kept this up. First a sword-fighter, now what – a survival expert in the Eldwitch Woods?

“Nick,” Maya whispered, “You’re drooling.”

Panicked, Phoenix raised a hand to his mouth, only for it to be completely dry. Maya giggled as he shot her an angry glare.

“I meant internally,” she corrected herself, “My bad. But, you know, you weren’t far off from actually drooling, were you?”

“Well, what do you want me to do when he’s over there looking like that?,” Phoenix said in his defense.

“Focus on eating actual snacks,” she said with a wink, and Phoenix damn nearly stuffed her mouth with an apple if only to make her shut up. They’d be overheard if they weren’t careful!

Half an hour later, the group was gathered around the now merely glowing pile of woods, each one with a large, washed leaf in their hands that acted as plate. Luke had to pick up and pour water on several potatoes that escaped the makeshift dish, but other than that, it felt like the best meal they’ve ever tasted.

“I call dibs on sleeping under the largest tree,” Maya said, cheeks full, “I’m being fried.”

They laughed, and the world felt right again.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

A few days of staying low later, it wasn’t just the regular campfires that sent sparks flying. They’d cooked jam, collected flowers, made teddy bears out of wood, but whenever they needed Phoenix’s or Hershel’s expertise, one needed to tear them apart, which proved difficult considering they were hot-glued to each other’s hips.

No, this was becoming a serious problem.

Hershel showered Phoenix with puzzles, making sure the attorney received praise for every single one he managed to solve and helpful hints if he got stuck. Phoenix helped Hershel with organizing their little camp, staying on high-alert to avoid getting discovered by knights. He made jokes, and Luke had only very rarely heard the professor laugh with his stomach.

And as, one day, the apprentice accompanied his mentor to the creek once again, he knew he’d implode if he remained in the dark.

Was the professor experiencing what Luke thought he was?

The 13 year old folded his hands in his lap, kneading them nervously. “Professor?”

Hershel looked up from the water. “Yes, my boy? Is something the matter?”

Layton’s apprentice bit his lower lip, clearly worried at the prospect of talking to his mentor about what was indeed the matter. “Can I ask you a, uhm, a rather personal question?”

Now the professor turned around fully, his expression soft. “You don’t have to ask, Luke. Whatever it is, I’ll be happy to answer.”

I wouldn’t be so sure, the boy thought, but he wanted to know. No, he needed to know. Even if it was just so he had closure on whether poor Mr Wright’s feelings were one-sided or not.

But from what kind of behavior he’d observed from his mentor, it seemed that the lawyer was lucky.

“Do you like Mr Wright?,” Luke blurted out.

For a moment, Layton was speechless. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected when Luke said “personal question”, but he certainly hadn’t been ready to be asked about his feelings so directly.

“I- I beg your pardon?”

“Do you like Mr Wright,” Luke repeated, now with more confidence, “I mean, like like. Not just- not just as a colleague or friend.”

Oh, dear.

“Uhm, well- Luke, you see-”

“No, Professor. No talking around it. Yes or no?”

Luke was persistent, Layton realized. Something that probably he himself was to blame for; at the very least partially. But Luke wasn’t only his apprentice, he was also his best friend.

And in all honesty, Hershel was tired of keeping stuff to himself.

Especially because considering Phoenix, he felt as if he were to explode any moment.

“All right, my boy. Yes. Yes, I’m afraid I do.”

To his surprise, Luke clapped his hands enthusiastically. “That’s wonderful, Professor!”

Hershel chuckled faintly, but if Luke wasn’t mistaken, there was a hint of bitterness to it. “Oh? And why is that, Luke? I’d assume Phoenix isn’t one to...well, take interest in people like me.”

“What do you mean? You’re great! Everyone knows that!”

Another chuckle. “I have my fair share of flaws, my dear boy. You and I both know very well how awful I am when it comes to dealing with emotions properly, for one. What good am I if I cannot process my feelings towards him?”

“Take it easy, Professor,” Luke said, tone as if he’d been giving relationship advice for his whole life, “One step at a time. The first step, admitting it to yourself, is already completed. And even the second one, telling me, is. Now, all you gotta do is find ways to get closer and act on it.”

Oh, dear.

“But I wouldn’t wish to impose,” Hershel said, a weak protest made out of principle and cowardice.

“You have to impose! That’s the point!,” Luke insisted, “How do you want to get his attention otherwise?”

That gave Hershel something to brood about.

Little did the two know that, just a few steps away, Maya and Phoenix were having a similar conversation.

Phoenix was busy picking strawberries, music stuck in his head. “With a burning heart...just about to burst…”

Maya made a face. “Nick, what are you humming over there?”

Phoenix snapped back into reality. “Oh! Uh, nothing. Just “Burning Heart”. It’s a good song.”

Maya’s expression shifted to something smug. “”Burning Heart”, eh? Guess that’s fitting for someone as whipped as you are.”

“I should have known you would say something like this,” Phoenix groaned, but he’d be damned if his face wasn’t as red as the strawberries he was currently collecting, “Considered that I’m only humming this song because the band is called “Survivor”? You know, like we are right now? Surviving in the depths of the Eldwitch Woods…”

“Nah,” Maya instantly said, voice muffled by the strawberry she was busy chewing, “You may think like that in a courtroom, but you’d never stumble around all of these corners when it comes to romance. Tough luck, Nick.”

Oh, shut up, Maya.

“I think you’re the one getting the most fun out of all this,” Phoenix said, nonchalant, despite both Maya and him being well aware that it was affecting him more than anything.

“So what if I am?,” Maya said, “I’m really invested, Nick. I’m serious. Can’t say I expected this, but…”

“Of course you didn’t expect it,” Phoenix whined, “You shouldn’t have to! The guy’s way out of my league!”

Instead of replying, Maya raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical.

“Don’t even try to deny it. He definitely is way too good for me,” Phoenix reinforced his point, “God, have you seen him? He’s a gentleman; probably the kindest person I have ever met. He knows more than I ever will and comes up with the best solutions to problems of any sort. He can sword-fight, for crying out loud, and that well enough to disarm a knight who’s probably trained more than half his life and likely uses the sword more than a professor of archaeology does. So yes, he IS out of my league.”

“You never know until you try,” was all Maya replied to that, shoving another strawberry into her mouth, “And for the record, you’re an insanely good match. I’m here for it, and so is everyone else. We even gave it a name, so don’t let us down!”

“A name?,” Phoenix asked, perplexed, but as soon as Maya opened her mouth to elaborate, Phoenix cut her off, “Actually, never mind. I don’t want to know.”

His assistant grinned. “Alright. But just so you’re in on this, we agreed that Layton-Wright sounds better than Wright-Layton for the both of you.”

It took Phoenix a moment to grasp the implication, and when he did, he turned around to face the strawberries once more, cheeks again tinted pink. “Aren’t you rushing things a little?,” he muttered.

“Maybe, but c’mon! That bell tower is a fantastic wedding spot!”

“Maya!”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Sleep, as so many times before, eluded Hershel Layton.

So much had happened, but at the same time, nothing. They’d uncovered plenty, but at the same time, nothing. Nothing at all.

He needed time to sort his thoughts, he supposed. Maybe if he sat down in the grass, avoiding stepping on any already crunchy leaves as to not wake his companions. A chill ran down his spine as his legs met the damp ground, but it was peaceful.

Almost lonely.

Well, until a familiar voice sounded from behind. “Can’t sleep either, huh?”

Hershel’s heart picked up speed as he recognized Phoenix Wright. Before he could jump up and turn around, the grass next to him rustled, and Phoenix sat down next to him, his arms draped over his knees as he drew them to his chest.

“Phoenix,” Hershel said, “No, I’m afraid I cannot.”

The attorney shot him a sympathetic look. “Yeah, can’t blame ya. It’s been a real tough few days.”

Hershel laughed, albeit it was somewhat melancholic. “Don't you think “months” would be a more fitting term?”

Phoenix mirrored his laugh. “Yeah. Maybe.”

A comfortable silence settled between them, and Hershel felt as if he could do this forever. Just exist with Phoenix, engage in friendly conversation...

The lawyer spoke up first. “Is this, uh...normal for you? Being away for so long, I mean?”

Hershel breathed in the cold night air through his nose, gaze directed to the night sky. Both of the men being from major cities, it wasn’t often that they got such a clear view of the stars. The extreme difference between what he saw in London and here saddened Hershel, and he vowed to reduce his usage of lights. Maybe he’d resort to candles.

“I must admit that this kind of duration is unusual even for me,” Hershel said, “There was one occasion that required me to be traveling for around half a year, but most of the mysteries I deal with only take a week at most. On average, a single weekend is enough.”

“Damn,” Phoenix whistled, impressed, “Guess you’re getting through these mysteries pretty fast, then. I could use that kind of brainpower for my cases.”

The smile Hershel gave him was nearly enough to melt Phoenix’s heart. “I assure you, Phoenix, I wouldn’t do nearly as well in murder cases compared to the kind of mysteries I am usually consulted for.”

“Ah, yeah? I’m not sure if I buy it. I mean, you saved my ass in Espella’s first trial. In more than one way, at that.” He paused. “I can’t believe that happened more than two months ago, and yet we’re still here, and no closer to a resolution.”

Hershel’s expression darkened, and Phoenix instantly regretted ever saying the previous sentence. He would never get enough of seeing the professor smile.

At the same time, however, he understood that their situation required some seriousness, and so he forced his feelings aside for now.

Never mind the fact that they were growing more and more intense with every passing day.

Maya was right – if this lasted any longer, his burning heart was about to burst with the sheer love he felt for this incredible man sitting next to him.

“You managed the trial exceptionally well,” Hershel proceeded to say, “And from what I’ve heard, you did the same when Maya was accused of turning me into a gold statue.”

Now it was Phoenix’s turn to frown. “I’d be careful with that. She was declared guilty and cast into the flames anyway, after all.”

“And Inquisitor Barnham was the only one to blame for that,” Hershel reminded him, “Something is...not right about this town. It’s a rather tough nut to crack, and it’s understandable that it’s taking us longer. We just need to…” He took a deep breath, swallowing bouts of what was clearly anxiety and fear that he tried to hide. It made Phoenix wonder just how many times Hershel, when faced with a dangerous situation, had bottled any negative emotions up. “...We need to push through. We are the only ones able to put an end to this madness.”

Phoenix nodded solemnly. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.” He laid back into the grass, hands under his head, as he once again admired the starry sky. The sight made him perk up. “But let’s forget about that for now, huh? It’s a beautiful night.”

Hershel looked down at the attorney, not able to prevent himself from blushing. That charming smile, the wide shoulders, the determined eyes; not to mention his laugh, his humor, and his undying optimism, and-

Good lord, Hershel, get a hold on yourself!

But he couldn’t. God, it was so hard, so incredibly hard not to lay down next to him, rest his head on Phoenix’s chest, drape his arm across the lawyer’s torso and maybe fall asleep.

There was no way in all of Labyrinthia or even the entire universe he could and would do that, and so he remained in the sitting position, drawing his knees closer to himself.

Phoenix seemed to read his emotions. “Don’t be shy, you can lie down. I won’t bite. I know you must be tired.”

Hershel’s heart did a back-flip in his chest.

He smiled; that gorgeous smile was on his face again. “All right, I suppose.”

Hesitantly, the professor lay down, minding the distance between him and the other man to avoid making him uncomfortable in any way. The grass was cold even in summer, but the presence of Phoenix next to him warmed him up, as if it were his namesake, that flaming bird, lying next to him and providing him with reassurance, company and comfort.

This was so awfully corny, Hershel thought to himself.

At the same time, though, he couldn’t deny how ridiculously happy Phoenix – and the resulting feelings bubbling up in him – made him.

The stars were even prettier in his company.

Phoenix pointed to the sky. “You see this? Pretty sure that’s the great wagon. Take it with a grain of salt, though.”

“I actually think you’re correct,” Hershel said, “I’ve never had such a clear view of it before.”

“Me neither,” Phoenix said, “Guess this wretched town is good for some things, huh?”

Yes. It’s good because I got to meet you. I get to spend time with you, to get to know you, to work together with you, to watch you shine doing what you love most. To lie under the stars with you, and feel my heart throbbing in my chest with every word you say.

I get to feel happy.

Hershel didn’t say any of that.

“I suppose it is.”

The professor had thought his heart would continue racing throughout this entire night, but he found it calming down with every passing minute. Panic set in – was he entering the stage of love in which nervousness and giddiness subsided to make space for genuine romance?

But even if that was the case…

...there was nothing bad about it, was there?

Phoenix turned his head towards him, grinning, his optimism not having not having dulled a bit despite everything the lawyer had undoubtedly endured these past few weeks.

Hershel grinned back, and didn’t protest when a loose arm was draped around his shoulder, pulling him into Phoenix’s side.

No.

Nothing bad at all.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Their hike continued.

Nobody complained out loud, but it was obvious that everyone was less than enthusiastic about having been on foot for such a prolonged period of time; not to mention that they had to watch their back every step of the way in case the Inquisition decided to corner them.

And it was still so blazing hot.

The group was certain they’d never find relief from these conditions when Maya suddenly shouted out, “Lake!”

Immediately, their gazes followed Maya’s pointing finger. And indeed – hidden in the shadows of the forest’s trees, surrounded by colorful flowers, was a lake, sunlight dancing across the small waves.

Phoenix was first to ask. “Is this safe to swim in or is this another mushroom situation?”

Espella giggled. “No, Mr Wright, I think this is perfectly safe.”

“Of course it’s safe!,” Maya insisted, “Look at how clear that water is! And ooohhh, I can only imagine how cool it must be.”

“Since you all are horrible at tolerating heat, I suggest we take a break and wash up,” Eve scoffed. “But just for the record, us girls are first.”

Phoenix groaned. “Ugh, fine. We’ll hide somewhere where it’s shadowy.”

“I’m not sure whether “shadowy” qualifies as a word, Phoenix,” Hershel mused, and Phoenix waved him off.

“It’s the heat melting my brain, Hershel.”

“Shoo shoo!,” Maya said, pushing Phoenix into the woods, “Hurry up!”

“We’re leaving, Maya! Jeez.”

They sat down beneath a huge tree, and Luke instantly began building a construction out of scattered sticks. Phoenix would have bet on the boy building some complicated, over the top puzzle, so he was admittedly surprised when Luke told them this was supposed to be a regular house.

“Your brain isn’t the only brain melting, Mr Wright,” was the kid’s explanation, and the lawyer had to give that to him.

Eventually, the girls returned. They’d tried their best to cleanse their outermost clothes, but they were still damp when they’d pulled them back on, despite the intense sunlight. “The water is freaking awesome,” Maya sighed, “So clean you can see the little fishies!”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Phoenix said, getting up, “I can wash my hair with my own sweat considering how wet my damn face is.”

“The lake water is much better, I assure you,” Espella said.

“All right. Let’s go,” Phoenix announced, stretching his back after having leaned on a bumpy tree for a good twenty minutes.

Luke eagerly followed him, discarding his sweater and button-up before cannon-balling into the lake. Hershel followed Phoenix as well, even if not so eagerly.

He was a man of privacy, so partaking in intimate activities such as swimming together seemed unfathomable to him. At the same time, however, he felt incredibly filthy after the days spent in the Eldwitch woods, and that was very unbecoming of a gentleman. And not favorable for his own comfort, either, really.

Phoenix Wright didn’t seem to care much. He wrestled himself out of his suit, kicking off his muddy dress shoes (He was dreading the cost of the new ones he’d inevitably have to purchase upon returning to Los Angeles. If he ever returned to Los Angeles.) and joined Luke in the lake.

Shirtless and only in his boxers.

“Hey, Mr Wright, do you think we could throw a stick instead of a water ball?,” Luke shouted.

“What are we, dogs?,” Phoenix snorted, “But you know what, let’s do it anyway. Throw it at me!”

Luke threw the stick in such a way that Phoenix wasn’t able to catch it, and when he came back up after his dive, his black hair was over his eyes. He used his hand to remove it, and Hershel felt the heat rushing to his face when he saw how beautifully the sunlight defined his jawline.

“You’re not getting in, Hershel?,” Phoenix asked.

“I- well, I probably should,” the professor confessed, “Just- ah, just a moment.”

They didn’t notice Maya poking out her head from a tree. “The Professor’s short-circuiting,” she narrated to Espella and Eve, “This is one hundred percent a very mutual attraction.”

“What else is new,” Eve sighed, attempting to put her hair back into place after it had been tousled by the water.

Meanwhile, Hershel had indeed taken the leap, and even removed his hat before carefully stepping into the lake.

Luke was overjoyed. “Here, Professor! Catch!”

But the warning came too late, and Hershel would have been hit in the nose by a wet stick if it hadn’t been for- “Oh!”

“Pay attention, Professor,” Phoenix grinned, holding the stick, “It’s two grown men against a 13 year old.”

Hershel raised an eyebrow. “Yes, a 13 year old who can convince all the fish to work for him if he wanted to.”

“Awh, goddammit! You’re right.” Phoenix threw the stick back with as much force as possible, but that didn’t faze Luke, and he caught it without any trouble.

“Try again, Mr Wright!,” he called.

“Hey, this is no fair! You’re smaller and more flexible than I am- agh!”

Hershel smiled triumphantly, hand only millimeters away from Phoenix’s face as he gripped the stick. “What was it? Pay attention, I believe?”

“Oh, just you wait-”

Hershel had barely time to yelp before he was lifted up by Phoenix’s strong arms and thrown back into the water. Luke was laughing at the sight of his usually so composed and nonchalant mentor having fun like this – he was of the opinion the professor deserved some more joy in his life.

“What did I do to earn this?,” Hershel gasped when he came swimming back up, gaining another grin from Phoenix.

“You need to relax a little,” the attorney stated, “Nobody’s watching us, and even if they were, I doubt they’d intrude on us swimming.”

“And the girls?,” Hershel breathed.

“They’d scream loud enough for us to hear,” Phoenix said, and Hershel nodded. The man was likely right. “So, want me to throw you again?”

“Phoenix, please-”

Luke laughed even more as the professor flew a second time, and when he came back up, he joined in.

Maya, Espella and Eve high-fived in the bushes.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The tranquility was short-lived.

They’d gotten dry in the sun, Luke finishing his little castle or whatever he’d been building. Eve and Espella had shared a few cherries.

It was fascinating how the two women interacted as if they’d known each other their whole lives, despite one technically being an inquisitor chasing the other.

Eve had admitted to having changed her mind and stuck to their side, though, so that didn’t have much of an effect anymore.

As soon as their little unusual group had stepped foot onto the pathway, however, exactly that came to their misfortune.

A patrouille of knights was going about their day in the woods when one of them suddenly spotted them – and an armored finger was pointed in their direction. “Hey! There’s High Inquisitor Darklaw!”

Eve froze. “Oh god. They’re going to think-”

“She’s caught the delinquents!,” another knight cheered.

The third knight drew his sword, raising it up in the air. “Let’s help her!”

Maya could only widen her eyes. “What does that mean, “help her”?”

“Run,” Eve hissed, but the group was standing there just as frozen. “Run!,” she repeated, but it was too late.

“In the name of the Storyteller, face your demise, you wicked witch!,” a knight yelled.

Espella shrieked as Eve grabbed her by the forearm, dragging her away into the thicket. The guilt she felt over leaving Hershel and the rest to fend for themselves would have to wait for now – Espella’s safety was her greatest priority.

She’d endangered her enough for a lifetime.

“Well, I’m afraid she is not present at the moment,” Layton calmly stated, adjusting his hat.

The knights attacked.

Maya and Luke also shrieked, quickly joining Eve and Espella in the woods. That was, theoretically – when they disappeared into the tree, neither of the two women were to be seen. But that was a problem for later, because Hershel could only do so much when a stick he used to try and fight back was snapped in half.

It was then that a figure jumped of of the shadows, tossing a sword. “Sir Top Hat!”

To everyone’s surprise, it didn’t cut any of his limbs off as he caught it. But with that nickname, it was painfully obvious whom that voice belonged to. “Inquisitor Barnham!,” Layton said, “May I ask you what you are doing-”

“Later,” Barnham cut him off, “You might want to focus on the blades coming towards you!”

Good point, Hershel realized.

Phoenix, too, had more or less ducked. Fencing lesson or not, those were professionals. He didn’t have the skill level to make it out unhurt – in contrast to the professor.

The archaeologist was not going easy on the partouille. He lunged, stabbed, thrust his sword, never with the intention to harm, but rather to keep them occupied and prevent them from hurting him. At his side, just as merciless, stood Inquisitor Barnham. Albeit his sturdy build and the heavy armor slowed him down a little, he still proved that he was very much able to wield a sword.

A blade barely missed Hershel’s side, and Phoenix couldn’t bear playing his role of the silent spectator. “Hershel- Hershel, be careful-”

Hershel hated to, but he was forced to ignore Phoenix’s cries. He would be careful, so much was certain - he had more than enough to live for.

But he wouldn’t live if he gave in to those knights.

Barnham fought fiercely. There was a fire in his eyes, a fire that wasn't ever present when he'd fought against Phoenix in the courtroom, making Layton think that he belonged to the fronts rather than in a hall of justice.

Funnily enough, he was on the right side of justice this time.

Swords clashed. The sounds almost grew old to them, but as long as they were heard, they were still fighting. They were still standing, because if one had to give one thing to the Storyteller, it was that he'd trained his guards well.

In the corner of his eye Hershel saw Barnham take a critical hit, and the inquisitor stumbled backwards, his helmet knocked off his head. Suddenly, the fire had been extinguished, and he scrambled for the headgear in panic, knowing that he was a traitor in the warriors’ eyes.

He didn't care much about that. He would just prefer to escape with his life.

“I'll hold the fort, Sir Barnham,” Layton assured him, sweat rolling down his temple as he pressed his blade against the knight's, not willing to give in to the visibly stronger biceps of his opponent.

That he did. He fenced until he lost track of time, disarming one knight after the other. Swords plummeted to the ground, and Barnham, who had lifted himself off the floor by now, made sure they were out of reach, leaving his former associates with no other choice than flee.

But that didn’t mean it was over yet. And for one split second, Hershel didn’t look.

Sharp metal sliced through flesh, and dark brown fabric quickly absorbed the deep red splattering onto and soaking into it.

All color drained from Phoenix’s face.

“Hershel!”

“Stand back!,” Hershel hissed, but he was just as pale, if not paler, than Phoenix was. The blood was all over his thigh, and the lawyer knew, he just knew, that the cut hiding under that pant leg was anything but pretty.

“But-”

“Stand back,” the professor repeated, firmly. “I can handle them.”

Phoenix didn’t want to stand back. He wanted to race over there and punch these knights in the face for hurting the man he loved. He wanted to sit him down and bandage the wound and soothe his pain.

Luke yanked him into the bushes as Hershel finished them off, the last sword, blade bloody, tumbling onto the forest ground.

When Hershel finally could breathe evenly, both the patrouille and Barnham were gone.

“Professor!,” Luke yelled, and only then did his leg began to burn. Layton hissed, carefully putting his trembling fingers to the wound and widening his eyes in horror when his fingertips became stained.

Phoenix was quick to call. “Hershel!”

The professor had sunken to the ground, the adrenaline from the combat vanishing the second the inquisition disappeared. He was panting, sweat trickling down his temple as fighting with a burning thigh was definitely much more exhausting than common sword-fighting.

“Hershel, hang- hang on,” Phoenix breathed, instantly at his side. Layton was clutching his leg, attempting to stop the blood flow by pressing his palm against the wound, but it wasn’t working very well.

“Phoenix?,” the professor said, and his voice was weak enough to strengthen the worry spreading through Phoenix’s chest.

“You did it, you know that, right? They left.”

Hershel nodded. “I know.”

“Nick, here!,” Maya’s voice rang out, and she threw her purple jacket for Phoenix to catch. Instantly understanding what the spirit medium was getting at, the attorney gently coaxed Hershel’s hands away from the wound, and, after pouring some water onto the cloth, dabbed the area as clean as he could, flinching each time Hershel hissed in pain.

“Sorry, I know it hurts,” Phoenix apologetically said, and it was as if he himself was cut in the leg, or even in the heart, because that was how much it hurt to watch the professor be in agony.

The lawyer pushed himself one more time before letting his emotions win over, firmly wrapping Maya’s jacket around Hershel’s affected thigh, securing the makeshift bandage with a knot before standing up and offering the professor his hand to help him up. “Unless you- unless it hurts too much, we can wait until-”

Layton shook his head, and Phoenix decided not to comment on how he was gritting his teeth. “No, it’s- it’s alright. We need to-” Another hiss. Phoenix instinctively tightened his grip around Hershel’s hand. “We need to move on.”

Phoenix wasn’t convinced, but Hershel was right. They needed to move on; get back into town before the Storyteller could execute the story’s finale. They’d have to defend Espella, who’d looked frightened enough already, and make sure her own father doesn’t go completely blind from rage and throws her into an actual pit of fire.

And they needed to get Hershel proper medical care.

Well, as proper as was possible in the 13th, 14th century.

“Let’s hurry,” Phoenix proclaimed, voice stern as he wrapped an arm around Hershel’s shoulders, keeping him steady. “Can you walk?”

“Nick, the answer is no,” Maya said, “Imagine you’d taken a sword cut to the leg. There’s no way you’d be able to walk literally five minutes after that.”

Phoenix glanced down at Layton’s thigh. Maya’s jacket was drenched with blood around the affected area, but the stain wasn’t getting much bigger. Hopefully, that meant that the bleeding had stopped.

Nevertheless, his assistant had a point.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Phoenix decided, turning to Hershel. “Would you be okay with me carrying you?”

Hershel would protest on any other day, but his dignity had left him the moment the blade had sliced his skin. He nodded. “All right.”

Phoenix crouched down, gathering Hershel into a bridal carry. It took all of his willpower and more not to hold him tight to his chest, bury his face in the silky curls, and make all his pain go away. But he had to focus.

“To the bakery,” Maya insisted.

“Isn’t the tavern closer?,” Luke inquired, his little eyebrows furrowed with worry. The mere idea of losing his mentor a second time sent tears to his eyes.

Phoenix paused to think, but then shook his head. “It may be closer, but Patty has privacy, an actual soft bed, and some meds if we’re lucky.”

Luke nodded. “Okay.”

Did they know the way? Not really, no. But it was intuition, it was determination, and it was love that guided them out of the Eldwitch Woods and into Labyrinthia. Phoenix cradled Hershel closer, shielding him from the water as rain began to fall and the sun began to set.

Maya frantically pounded at the door, and a confused but concerned Patty opened, immediately ushering them inside once realizing the gravity of the situation. By the time the door was closed behind them and the group let out a collective sigh of relief, Hershel had fallen unconscious.

Notes:

all questions you probably will be answered in the next two chapters :)

this, meanwhile, is probably my absolute favorite one in this whole thing. so much cheese <3

Chapter 6: An Uneasy Atmosphere

Notes:

today's prompt: hurt/comfort

The Storyteller was dead.

That’s how it looked like on the surface, at least.

After patching Hershel up at the bakery, a young lad named Petter had frantically knocked on the door, telling them that the parade was underway. The professor was still limping, but it was fine, and with Phoenix’s arm around his shoulder, they made it to the town square just in time to witness Labyrinthia’s leader burned alive by a massive fire dragon.

And the person who summoned it, right there at the top of the bell tower, was Espella Cantabella.

That’s what everyone believed, at least.

When they left the bell tower with nothing but a flour-stained cloak, disappointment was an understatement. But who knew – maybe the pendant that was confiscated by the inquisition wasn’t that important after all.

Their time was running out, and like sand in an hourglass, the ten days they had left until the commence of the final witch trial would seep through their fingers.

Until they were presented with a bigger problem.

Phoenix’s razor-sharp senses never failed him, especially when it came to people he loved. So when they were strolling through Labyrinthia, all of them rather at a loss of what to do and how to act next, Phoenix suddenly got a dreadful feeling that something was off, he was wise enough not to ignore it.

“Espella is going on trial in nine days,” Maya stated, recounting the facts they already knew, “And we gotta use these nine days to find evidence.”

“Right,” Phoenix said, is nervousness growing by the second. If only he could pinpoint what was bugging him! “Any place we need to check out?”

“The storyteller’s tower, I presume,” Hershel said, meeting Phoenix’s eyes.

And that’s when Phoenix got his answer.

Layton’s own eyes were glassy; almost unfocused. His usually tan face had taken on an unsettling pallor – aside from his cheeks, which were flushed an unhealthy red. And to think Phoenix hadn’t said anything when he’d noted Hershel limping earlier!

“Hershel,” he said, a sense of urgency in his tone.

“Hm? What is it?”

“You- you okay?”

The professor’s heart skipped a beat.

He’d tried his best to hide it. To hide the fact that the wound that Phoenix had so carefully and tenderly cleaned back in the woods had started burning again.

It was an infection, there was no room for doubt. And yet, it was an infection he couldn’t afford. No, not in the slightest. Not when they were during their core phase of the investigation!

“Y-yes,” he stammered, pulling his hat into his face to hide the signs of illness, “Yes, of course.”

“Bullshit,” Phoenix shot back, “It’s infected.”

The rest of the group’s eyes instantly turned to him.

“The wound’s infected, isn’t it?,” Phoenix asked again.

“I- No, you-”

“Back to the bakery,” Phoenix cut him off, grabbing Hershel by his wrist, “C’mon. Don’t be stubborn about this.”

“Phoenix, I’m not-”

“Come on.”

Maya and Luke exchanged glances that were a mix between panicked and concerned, but swiftly followed the two men back to Patty’s bakery. Patty herself wasn’t present at the moment, so Phoenix gave himself permission to search through the supplies to find something, anything, that could be of help in this situation.

Hershel had sunken to the wooden ground, eyes squeezed shut as he finally allowed himself to feel the pain he’d been doing everything to conceal. In an instant, Phoenix was at his side; still empty-handed, but ready to gauge what they were dealing with here.

“Hey, Hershel,” he said, slightly shaking him by the shoulders, “You there?”

“I’m here,” Hershel replied.

A gentle palm moved its way to the professor’s forehead, pushing the stray curls away to feel for fever. Phoenix hissed at the intense heat that met his skin. They were worse off than he’d initially thought.

“Damn it, Hershel,” he said, but the feigned exasperation wasn’t enough to hide the sheer worry in his tone, “You should have said something.”

“What should I have said?”

“God, I-” The lawyer ran his hand through his spikes. “I don’t know! Anything along the lines of “I don’t feel so good” or “I think my cut is infected” would have worked!”

“You rely on me,” Hershel simply said.

Phoenix didn’t have the mental capacity to argue with a wall, so he let it go, moving on to more important matters. “Can I roll up your pants to take a look?”

Hershel nodded. “Yes, you may.”

With great caution, Phoenix took a hold of the fabric, rolling it up. He hissed himself when they had reached the wound, and there was no mistaking how red and inflamed it was.

Damn it, Hershel!

“That’s not good,” Layton simply commented, and if Phoenix wasn’t so deeply in love with this man, he would have smacked him for his pride and stubbornness.

How could they have let it get this bad?

"Of course," Phoenix muttered, "Of course we didn't do enough."

"Phoenix," Hershel cut him off, voice surprisingly steady for someone sitting on the floor and shaking from a high temperature, not to mention the pain he must be in. "You did the best you could under the circumstances. I am eternally grateful for your assistance back there."

"Yeah, whatever," Phoenix hissed, desperation palpable in his tone, "And yet, here we are."

"I will be all right," Hershel said, but anyone could hear that he was trying to reassure himself more than he was trying to bring Phoenix some peace of mind.

"That's what you say every damn time," the lawyer protested, "You say that, and then sword-fight a knight, get turned into gold, go missing for a whole few weeks, sword-fight an entire group of knights, get hurt and then come down with a wound infection. All right my ass, Hershel Layton."

The professor wanted to reply with something, anything, to calm his friend down. And yet, there were no words on the tip of his tongue.

Because the attorney was right.

He wasn't very fine, was he?

In that case, there was only one thing left to say. "I'm sorry, Phoenix."

Curse the tears that shot to Phoenix's eyes as he finished wrapping up the now cleansed and dealt with wound. "It's okay," he whispered, "Don't- don't apologize. I know you just want to protect us, and we appreciate it more than you know. The thing is just-" He paused to swallow the lump in his throat. "Who's gonna protect you?"

"Protect me? But I am quite capable-"

"Yeah, you are. You definitely are. Probably the most capable in our entire group, even more capable than Barnham is. And maybe that's the damn problem - because you have nobody to stop the blade if it's rushing towards you."

Phoenix stood up, hands on his hips as he inspected the work. The bandage seemed to be tight enough to be effective without cutting off the blood flow in Hershel's leg at the same time.

"That doesn't mean I won't try," he added, "I hope- I hope you know that."

Hershel looked down at his patched-up leg. It still stung, but much less than it had just hours prior. He knew that this was likely a result of the newly applied pressure dulling the pain, and that it would be excruciating once more before he knew it, but for now, he'd allow himself enjoy the peace.

"I do," he whispered, "And I'm very honored you'd do that, albeit I urge you not to throw yourself in harm's way for me-"

"Again with the hypocrisy," Phoenix sighed, exasperated, "Not on my watch, Hershel. And now, you-" No, this wouldn't do. With ease, Phoenix scooped Hershel into a bridal carry once more, ascending the creaking stairs before entering the room he and Maya were staying at. He hoped she'd forgive him for letting Hershel occupy it. "Now you sit here and rest and don't fucking move or I will be mad at you."

Hershel couldn't help himself as he laughed. "I heard you loud and clear, doctor Wright."

Despite the seriousness of the situation, a smirk found its way onto Phoenix's face. "I'll be right back with something to cool you down."

Hershel immediately let his head sink when Phoenix left the room.

How could he have overestimated himself like this? He wasn’t invincible. Of course he wasn’t! The danger of injuries was one of the biggest threats of sword-fighting, and when he’d first learned that skill, that information was one of the first things he’d ever engraved in his brain. As a result, he’d always been careful, and never gotten himself hurt.

Even as he had battled his own brother on top of a giant mecha in the middle of an island, raised several dozen meters in the air. Even when he’d battled him again in the middle of the base of a terrorist organization. Even when he’d fought with a presumed vampire on the steps of the former’s massive fairy tale castle.

Even Barnham had done nothing to harm him, and the guy probably had been training for weeks on end in the Inquisition’s camp.

Phoenix returned, instantly picking up on Hershel’s dejected expression. “Everything okay? I mean, considering your current state and all, you know-”

Hershel wanted to chuckle, but he couldn’t even force a smile.

What sorcery was that; the great Hershel Layton unable to force a smile?

“I’m terribly sorry,” was all he managed to croak out.

Phoenix sighed, slightly displeased. “I told you. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

The gentle tone made Hershel want to cry even more than his own guilt already did. To prevent himself from shedding tears and adding to his embarrassment, he pulled his blanket tighter around himself, gaze directed down into his lap. “I failed to protect you,” he then muttered, “You were counting on me, and I failed.”

Phoenix sat down next to his friend, deciding that Hershel would survive their conversation and letting his hand that was squeezing a soaked cloth fall to the side. “What are you talking about? You didn’t fail. Without you at the scene, we would have been chopped up into tiny cubes.”

“Yes, but-” Layton let out a shaky breath. “But now I’m here, completely and utterly useless, and you, for some reason, feel obligated to fuss over me instead of- instead of continuing our mission, and I-”

Instead of the annoyed reaction that Layton expected to get, Phoenix seemed saddened. “Is being taken care of really such a foreign concept for you?”

Hershel blinked. “What…?”

“You heard me,” Phoenix said, clicking his tongue before finally placing the cool cloth onto Hershel’s forehead, “You keep apologizing for, I dunno, troubling and burdening me, burdening us, while you’re doing no such thing. You and I, we’re friends, Hershel. Hell, maybe we’re even-”

No. Not right now.

“We’re friends,” Phoenix repeated, “And friends take care of each other. Be it defending them in court, making sure nobody dies from dehydration in woods straight out of a fantasy book, and you can be damn sure that includes providing for and taking care of them when they’re down with an infected wound and burning a hole through the mattress.”

Hershel was seriously going to tear up if the man kept this up.

“I still have a lot to learn,” he whispered as Phoenix adjusted the cloth, it having slid off during their talk, “I hope you know that what you are doing at the moment isn’t going unappreciated. I…I’m truly grateful, Phoenix.”

Oh, the relief Hershel felt when the lawyer smiled. “I know you are, Hershel. Now rest.” In a surge of confidence, he tucked the professor in, making sure his body was properly shielded from the elements. “I’ll be right here.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

They’d traveled to the North-East of England.

Miles Edgeworth, Desmond Sycamore and Dick Gumshoe considered themselves severely lucky that it happened to be July, otherwise, the winds in this area would have been relentless.

Breathing the sea air, Edgeworth actually got to relax for the first time in an absurd about of weeks. He had no idea what exactly he was doing – they had zero leads aside from a librarian who had offhandedly mentioned something about having read the word “Labyrinthia” on a questionnaire handed to her in a pharmacy when she was purchasing something produced from Labrelum Inc.. It was all they had, and so they’d traveled to their production site in Marblethorpe.

Aside from the factory, however, the town was sleepy - zero to no activity on the streets aside from grandmas going grocery shopping, and almost nobody the investigative trio could question.

Gumshoe had booked them into a holiday chalet, and now they were building sandcastles instead of putting all their efforts into finding Phoenix Wright and Maya Fey.

It was stupid, really, but they were tired.

“Sir!,” Gumshoe exclaimed, walking over to him. The prosecutor pretended to pay to mind to how the detective licked a bit of chocolate off his index finger.

Not everyone could be as refined as he was, he understood.

“Yes, Detective?,” Edgeworth opted for, crossing his arms. Probably an announcement that they’d won the local sandcastle competition simply because there were no kids to compete against.

“Having a former domestic terrorist on our team isn’t as dumb as we thought,” the detective said, “Mr Sycamore managed to sneak into the production site last night!”

Now, that was interesting. Edgeworth’s eyebrows shot up. “Did he now? I assume he’s discovered something of use to us?”

“Yep! Come, he’s waiting at the beach!”

Miles instantly screwed up his face. “The beach?”

“Unwind a little, Sir!”

Edgeworth hated how his beloved cravat got all crumpled up in the breeze, but there was Desmond, lying flat on the sand, arms behind his head. Whatever he’d found out, it couldn’t have been urgent, because then he’d surely run straight to them and broken the news.

Miles hoped so, at the very least.

“Not going to bother about the sand on your glasses?,” he dryly stated after walking up to Desmond.

The archaeologist instantly shot up. “Oh- Mr Edgeworth.” He took off his glasses and, indeed, shook off the sand. “There we go. Fancy seeing you here, didn’t take you for the type to enjoy beaches.”

Edgeworth blinked. “I figured I had to be here since you were waiting, weren’t you?”

“Hm? Oh, no. I told Mr Gumshoe that I could return to our chalet, but he insisted you come here.”

Gumshoe received an angry glare, but Egdeworth softened up just a second later. That was the wonderful thing about his friends, was it Wright or the detective.

They always knew when he needed fresh air.

“Alright, Sycamore. Out with it, what did you find?”

Desmond finally sat up, stretching himself. “There is an entire folder with records about this so-called “Labyrinthia” in the factory,” he said, “I wasn’t able to take a close enough look – it was dark, and the company is mostly guarded. But our initials suspicions were correct: It is indeed some kind of place, and if I understood correctly, not far from here. If I had to bet, it would be an island.” He sighed. “I would know. I’ve had experiences with seemingly nonexistent places turning out to be an island.”

“Oh, does that mean we need a boat?,” Gumshoe inquired, and Desmond nodded.

“A boat,” he said, but then he smirked. “Or an airship.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Damn those candles.

Phoenix couldn’t see much, but what he did know was that what he’d just jotted down was pure nonsense.

It was the middle of a quiet night. Maya and Luke were both sound asleep in the room next to where Phoenix was at the moment, and logically, the lawyer, too, should be sleeping.

He, however, wasn’t alone. Hershel was sprawled out on the cot nearby, drifting in and out on consciousness, and Phoenix couldn’t bear the thought of calling it a night and not being able to spring into action in case something went wrong.

Not that everything was perfectly fine at the moment.

He was just about to crumple the page and throw it onto the ground to add to his collection of discarded notes when a faint voice caught his attention.

“...Phoenix…?”

Phoenix’s heart dropped.

As fast as humanly possible, he stood up and jogged over to the cot. “Hershel? You awake?”

“Awake?,” Hershel muttered, “I don’t know...maybe…”

So the answer was no.

Carefully, Phoenix lit the candle on the nightstand, and his heart sank even further as he saw just how flushed Hershel’s face was. He knew he’d regret it, but he placed his hand on his forehead nevertheless, flinching as his palm, cold from sheer anxiety, was instantly warmed up.

Wordlessly, he grabbed the cloth and soaked it in the bucket, wringing it out before gently placing it back on Hershel’s forehead.

“Shhhh,” Phoenix tried to soothe, “Just relax, okay? I’m here.”

He had no idea whether that simple statement was enough to actually help Hershel relax, but the man seemed to settle, still shaking with occasional chills that caused Phoenix’s heart to constrict every time.

God, he wished they’d been more careful with that damned wound.

“Phoenix?,” Hershel repeated again.

“Hm?”

“Will you please...please stay…?”

A punch straight to his gut.

Hershel had slightly curled up into himself, eyes closed, but clearly weakened. He wasn’t even pretending to be strong anymore, and if Phoenix had correctly assessed the professor these fast few months, that was an alarming sign.

Most importantly, though, he sight tugged at every single one of Phoenix’s heartstrings. He slowly took a seat next to Hershel, his arm finding his way around the professor’s shoulder. “Hey.”

Instead of mustering a reply, the archaeologist only shuddered, curling into himself even further as if to shield himself from the internal cold plaguing him.

Phoenix couldn’t help but pull him closer. “You’re gonna be alright,” he whispered, and in all honesty, he had expected himself to sound less convinced than he did.

Hershel’s head was too heavy to be held upright, and soon Phoenix felt the heat of Layton’s fevered skin on his shoulder. Immediately, the attorney’s hand moved to bury itself in the brown curls usually covered by the tall top hat.

“I promise you, you’ll be okay,” he repeated, and when Hershel made an approving sound and leaned into him, his fingers began to gently brush through the damp strands. Phoenix cradled Hershel’s head closer, and by the time the implications of this action caught up to him, the scholar’s body had stopped shaking, and any embarrassment Phoenix might have felt from such a bold move vanished in an instant.

It didn’t matter what this meant. All that mattered that Hershel felt better, and by god, Phoenix would do anything in the world to make the man lying next to him feel better.

Yes, he’d been in deep denial at first. There was no way any of his friends would ever let him live down the fact that he had traveled to England, gotten sucked into a book and instead of escaping, went and fallen in love with one stubborn, selfless, but incredibly brilliant and beautiful gentleman professor.

But the way his heart clenched in his chest when Hershel loosely draped an arm around his torso and closed his eyes as Phoenix continued stroking his hair made it clear that there was nothing he could deny anymore.

And he found that he didn’t want to.

With a fond smile on his lips, he hoped that nobody was around to see as he pressed a tender kiss to Hershel’s head.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Jean Greyerl was pacing around the empty house when she heard a knock on the door.

Who would want something at this hour?, she asked herself, but got up from her old master’s chair anyway, crossing the hallway towards the entry area in large strides.

When she opened the door and saw Maya Fey in company of the little boy, Luke, she blinked. “Aren’t you…?”

“Yes,” Maya said, nodding, “I’m Maya Fey, the girl tossed into the fire. I’m alive and so is everyone else who’s ever been there, so don’t worry about it. And I’m not angry at you for getting off scot-free, either.”

Wow, this girl really could read minds.

“I- thank you, Miss Fey,” Jean said with a little bow, “I’m sincerely relieved to see you alive and well.”

“Hehe, can’t get rid of me!,” Maya cheered, but her expression turned stern just as quickly. “But enough of that. Jean, we really need your help.”

“Of course,” Jean said, eagerly nodding, “Come inside. I’ll help with whatever I can.”

The late alchemist’s apprentice stepped aside to make room for Maya and Luke, shutting the door and keeping the cold September night air outside.

“What can I do for you?”

Luke fidgeted with the button attached to his shirt. “Uhm, when we were in the forest, a bunch of knights attacked us. The professor – you know, the one who supposedly was turned to gold – managed to fight them off for us, but he got hurt.”

“And now, his body disagrees with the medieval bacteria flying around, and the cut got infected. He- he isn’t doing good.” Maya looked to the side, eyes full of worry. “The first time we met, I know you said that you couldn’t offer any medication anymore, but… is there any way you can make an exception?”

Jean gasped at the information she’d just gathered.

She knew what it was like. When she was younger, barely having spent half a year under master Belduke’s care, she’d cut her finger with a knife. It had been no big deal – something she’d done frequently when indulging in woodwork, one of her favorite activities. But when the infection had hit, she’d spent multiple days in bed fighting it off, and she didn’t want to know how the same process looked like with a sword cut on a much bigger scale.

“Yes, naturally,” she said in a hushed tone, “Now that the death of my master has been solved, all of the chemicals that High Inquisitor Darklaw had initially confiscated have been returned to me. I’m certain I can find something to relieve Sir Layton’s discomfort.”

Maya and Luke almost fell to their knees in gratitude. “Oh, thank you, Miss Greyerl,” Luke said, “That helps immensely.”

“No problem at all,” Jean assured them, already rummaging through her cupboards to find something suitable, “Would you mind too terribly if I were to come with you and administer the balm myself? Do not misunderstand me, I do not believe you incapable. I would just rather see what we’re dealing with.”

Maya and Luke didn’t need much time to think about the request. “Yeah, sure,” the spirit medium said, “I think we’d welcome it.”

Jean nodded before filling a basket with a bunch of different vials and bottles. “Lead the way.”

The three of them made their journey through the dark. Maya quietly unlocked the bakery’s door, knowing that Patty was likely asleep. She ushered Luke and Jean inside and pointed to the stairs Thad led to the bedrooms. After having ascended them, she led them towards the right room.

Her heart soared at the sight that greeted them.

Professor Layton was propped up to rest against Phoenix’s chest, his brow no longer furrowed. A blanket was tucked around both of the men, and the lawyer had a protective arm around the professor’s torso, pressing him closer to himself. Both of them appeared to be sound asleep, and Maya felt almost bad for disturbing their rather intimate moment.

Jean blinked. “I had a feeling my presumption wasn’t wrong.”

“Huh?,” Maya asked.

“I saw it all, you know. How Sir Layton rushed into my house, so eager to rescue Sir Wright. There was no hesitation in his voice.”

“Ah, that!”

“It’s a shallow thing to base assumptions off, but my gut feeling told me that there was something brewing under the surface.”

Phoenix dragged an arm across his face as he heard the commotion, his own exhaustion not enough to put him out of the constantly alert state. “How funny that everyone seemed to catch on my feelings before me…”

“Go back to sleep, Nick,” Maya admonished him, “Shoo.”

“No,” Phoenix grumbled, “Clearly, we have a guest.”

“Miss Maya and Luke requested that I provide some medicine,” Jean explained, and Phoenix finally opened his eyes.

“You guys what?,” he asked, slight disbelief in his expression.

“We figured that the professor would be better off if we had actual medicine,” Luke explained, shuffling with his foot, sheepish. “Maya remembered Miss Greyerl, and we went to ask.”

“And here I was, thinking the two of you were asleep in bed this whole time. But...hey, thank you. You too, Miss Greyerl.”

“Naturally,” the teal-haired woman said, “Now, if that’s all right, I would need-”

Phoenix was already on it, folding the blanket aside to expose Hershel’s bandaged cut. He unwrapped the fabric, watching as Jean carefully covered the area with an ointment, the herbal odor of which bit his nose.

“I have a syrup that acts as fever reducer,” Jean said after wrapping the would back up. It was a miracle that Hershel had slept through it all. “But he’d need to be awake to take it.”

Phoenix wasted no time in gently running his fingers through Hershel’s hair, muttering lovey-dovey nonsense into his ear that the professor would most certainly forget by the time he woke up. When the archaeologist did finally open his eyes, blinking up at Phoenix’s gentle face, the lawyer carefully inserted a spoonful of the syrup into his mouth before proceeding to soothe him back to sleep.

Jean, Luke and Maya smiled to themselves.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The next step, and said step was absolutely crucial to their mission, was to investigate the Storyteller’s tower.

With the trial about to commence in a mere four days, they didn’t have much time to beat around the bush. But Hershel still wasn’t on his feet; still pale, still swaying while he stood. He wouldn’t make it to the top floor without collapsing, and as much as he hated to admit that, he stayed out of the discussion.

Until Luke had have the idea of a lifetime.

The professor hadn’t liked said idea.

He hadn’t liked it in the slightest, and if his veto held just a little more power, he’d have overruled that decision in an instant.

After all the things Luke had seen, the last thing Layton wanted was for him to suffer bodily harm.

“Let’s make one thing clear,” Phoenix had said, “You’re not going anywhere, Hershel.”

Hershel had looked dismayed. “But-”

“No buts,” the lawyer had insisted, “You were at what, almost 103 degrees last night? I’m not letting you climb a cold, damp tower guarded with lots and lots of knights. Nuh-uh.”

Hershel hadn’t found it in him to dismiss Phoenix’s concern. After all, he couldn’t fault his friend from being worried, and if he were honest, it quite touched him.

Now, Layton’s job had been to distract Luke and Maya from their “genius proposal”. “I’m assuming you will be going, then?”

Phoenix had been about to nod, but Maya had interrupted him. “And abandon the love of his life while he’s still in a weakened state?”

“Maya, can you not-”

“I’m taking Luke, and we’re going,” she had announced, an arm on Luke’s shoulder.

“What?!,” Phoenix had burst out, “But that’s dangerous! For crying out loud, Maya, I just recently saw you dropped into a pit of hellfire. I’d like not to have you stabbed by a sword like some- some apple!”

The young woman had laughed. “Who stabs apples with a sword?”

“I must agree with Phoenix here,” Hershel had instantly interjected, “I wouldn’t want to see you hurt, my boy.”

But, as he should have kept in mind from literally any previous adventure they had mastered together, Luke was one very determined and brave kid. “I won’t get hurt, Professor! Please, trust me. Miss Maya and me, we’re gonna be unstoppable!”

Phoenix had pinched the bridge of his nose. “Remind me again how we’ve come to the conclusion that it won’t be me, the oldest of the three of us and the one able to act as a protective wall if we were to be attacked, but rather the two teenagers going to investigate the storyteller’s tower?”

“The answer is love,” Maya had mused, “And I know, I just know, that the professor will feel much better with you around.”

“I get you want to match-make, Maya, but how about not putting your life at risk when you do tha-”

“Bye, Nick!”

Before either Phoenix and Hershel had could blink, their two assistants had rushed out the door, leaving them in a haze before panic even had have the chance to set in.

“Shit,” Phoenix proceeded to say, and he’d been out the door with one foot when Hershel had grabbed his hand from behind.

“Let them,” the professor had said, “We need to place our trust in them if we wish to succeed.”

And so, Maya and Luke had taken off, hand in hand, jumping all the way, not minding the dark purple clouds swallowing the tower.

They arrived at the gate when two very familiar faces happened to pass by.

Barnham’s face twisted up. “What in the-”

“Oh, hey Mr Barnham! Hi Eve!” Maya waved. “What are you doing here?”

Eve's grip on Barnham's forearms tightened. “I'm “arresting” him for treason.”

“Huh?,” Luke inquired.

Barnham sighed. “Back when I sided with the six of you in the forest, I destroyed my career as an inquisitor. Despite Darklaw not actually arresting me, it is her duty to at least pretend to do so.”

“Oh, so...the knights over there snitched?,” Maya asked, a disgusted look on her face.

Barnham nodded. “And what are the two of you doing? It’s getting late. Shouldn’t you be returning to your companions and retire for the night?”

Maya shook her head. “Nope! Luke and I, we’re going to explore the Storyteller’s tower until we find something useful for Nick and Espella!”

The High Inquisitor raised an eyebrow. “The Storyteller’s tower? Now that is odd...I was under the assumption that Professor Layton would take on that same mission.”

Luke looked down. “The professor’s unwell.”

Barnham suddenly paled. “Goodness, is it because of that-”

“Yes,” Luke said, knowing what the inquisitor was getting at.

Barnham turned to Eve. “You better have a good word with them once you have me locked up. I cannot condone physical harm being done to anyone here.”

“Said the man who threw an innocent girl into the fire, and many more at that, but all right, I will,” Eve responded dryly, to which Barnham’s face burned with embarrassment and shame.

“Yes, point taken. Never mind that for now. Where’s Sir Blue Knight?”

“Oh, we decided that it would be us going,” Maya shrugged, not wanting to give away the true reason behind Phoenix’s absence. Eve already knew anyway.

Barnham wasn’t amused. “Let me know if I understand this correctly: You have two adult men in your group, one of which is unable to go, and yet you decide to send the young boy and the teenage girl on a dangerous mission to the Storyteller’s tower? A place even us inquisitors have the greatest respect for”

“Hey, I'll have you know I'm quite capable!,” Maya pouted, sticking out her tongue.

Barnham was unfazed. “Where did you leave Sir Blue Knight?”

Oh, whatever.

“He's- he's with the professor,” Luke replied, sheepishly glancing at the floor.

“With the professor,” Eve repeated, raising her eyebrow.

“Mhm,” Maya confirmed, “Nick insisted on staying, and we let him have his way.” That was a blatant lie, but deep down, it was probably the rawest truth.

Barnham scoffed. “And here I thought that as defender, he'd be more eager to defend the two of you than sit with an ill man.”

“He's not just- any ill man,” Maya stammered out, for a moment wondering whether Phoenix would kill her if she spilled his secret.

“I'm aware, but I'd like to think he'd prioritize your safety nonetheless, no?,” Eve asked.

Barnham's head snapped towards the high inquisitor. “You're aware?”

“Yes, Zacharias. Because in contrast to you, I am not blind to things transpiring before my very eyes.”

“I beg your pardon?!”

Eve sighed. “The two of them are...involved. Romantically.”

The knight blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t “excuse me” me,” Eve barked, “It’s your fault! You attacked Sir Blue Knight with that sword of your, prompting the professor to step in and capture the defender’s heart!”

“My fault?! How is it my fault that this fool of a defender cannot keep his feelings under control-”

“Hey, guys?,” Maya interrupted, waving a hand in front of the two bickering inquisitors, “Hate to stop you, but we kind of have an important mission to handle, so we’ll be leaving now. Bye bye!”

“Wait!,” Barnham shouted, then turned to Eve. “In no circumstance am I leaving them to go up the tower alone. I’m coming with you, Miss Fey and Luke.”

Eve rolled her eves, but finally let go of Barnham’s forearm. “Fine. I shall be joining you as well, then. Whatever is lurking there is no match for a team of four.”

Maya screwed up her face, not exactly enthusiastic about going on an adventure together with the man who had consciously send her to a (fake) death, but Luke was nodding eagerly. Having a skilled knight and a sharp-witted High Inquisitor wouldn’t hurt.

And so, the amount of people approaching the tower had doubled.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The professor would never say it out loud – not even if his life depended on it – but he was rather glad Phoenix had insisted he stay inside instead of throwing himself into another taxing investigation.

He didn’t have anything against shoving his own well-being to the side if I meant helping others, that much was a fact. And maybe, if it wasn’t Phoenix who had insisted, he would have gone out there and climbed that tower, even if it was the last thing he did.

But the lawyer had gauged him with such worried eyes that everything in Hershel that had protested the idea of rest had been silenced in an instant, and he’d sunken back into the sheets while Phoenix had muttered something along the lines of “you’re warm again”.

Hershel couldn’t care less as long as the other man was by his side.

The scholar had drifted in an out of sleep for most of the day; even before Maya and Luke had departed. Part of the reason why going in their place would likely have been a horrible idea – it would have been humiliating if he were to collapse on the stairway.

Of course, he couldn’t have known that the tower had an elevator, but he digressed.

After his second or third nap within the past 12 hours, Hershel woke up with the feverish fog lifted from his head.

“Hey there,” Phoenix greeted him, never staying far, “Feeling any better?”

Hershel nodded, propping himself up to lean against the bed rest in a sitting position. “Yes. Thank you.”

“’Course,” Phoenix said, reaching out to pat the back of Hershel’s hand. “The way things are going, I think you’ll be fine in a day or two. Which is a real relief, gonna be honest.”

“I understand. I, too, cannot await returning to my usual self.”

“Meh. You deserve to chill out some. It seems like you’ve been on edge more often than not these past months.”

Oh.

How in the world did Phoenix-

“You...you certainly rather perceptive,” Hershel muttered, not meeting Phoenix's eyes. How was it possible for the attorney to expose him like this when people he’d known his whole life didn’t pick up on the pressure he put on himself?

“I’m a lawyer, it’s part of my job,” Phoenix shrugged, “You have no idea how useful it is to be able to pick at people’s little quirks when dealing with less than honest witnesses.”

“Oh, I can only imagine. The one’s you’ve faced here certainly were no better from what I’ve gathered.”

“Ugh, tell me about it!,” Phoenix groaned, “That Emeer guy is one of the most obnoxious lying bastards I’ve ever come across. Did you know that he pocketed the arm of your fake golden self and pawned it off? We all believed he literally sold part of a corpse! I should have known something was off the moment he waltzed into court with gold hanging off his neck.”

Hershel’s eyes widened. “He did that? My, what a strange man.”

“Strange is a vast understatement,” the American said with a shudder, “But yeah, most witnesses are really odd. The only normal one I dealt with was Luke.”

Would you look at that – more things that were news to the professor. “Luke? Luke played the role of a witness?”

Uh-oh, maybe he’d said too much.

Oh well, no going back now, was there?

Phoenix rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah. He- he was the one to open the door to the alchemist's study and discover your, uh, “body”.”

The rosy flush that had tinted Hershel’s cheeks as a result of his elevated temperature just a few hours ago was replaced by pallor. “Oh, goodness. I had no idea…”

“Those- those were a rough few days for him, yeah,” Phoenix recalled, “I tried to comfort him as well as I could, but ultimately, he chose to testify against Maya because he believed it’d bring you justice. But, Hershel?”

“Yes?”

“Please don’t be angry with him. He apologized to Maya, and was devastated about what he’d done. He doesn’t need you to scold him. He was just grieving you.”

Hershel’s expression, which had indeed turned slightly stern at Phoenix’s words, softened. “All right. You raise a good point. I won’t remind him of it.”

“Thank you,” Phoenix said with a smile. “Do you need anything? Or do you just wanna go back to sleep?” He gently touched Layton’s forehead. “You don’t seem to be burning up anymore, but I can only guess you’re still tired.”

“I don’t need anything, no. Thank you, Phoenix. And I don’t think I shall sleep any more. This is far beyond my usual amount.”

An inconspicuous sentence, usually. But Phoenix didn’t like it. “Far beyond your usual amount? You’re gonna have to elaborate.”

Hershel bit his lower lip. “Well...being an archaeology professor isn’t a walk in the park. Nothing compared to law, mind you, but regardless. You wouldn’t imagine the height of the essays stacks I have to grade some nights.”

Phoenix raised an eyebrow, not amused in the slightest. “Can’t you leave them for, like, free periods?”

“I technically could, put I pride myself on being one of the more reachable professors. Students don’t fear coming up to me and asking for aid for assignments, a puzzle or general advice, which I’m always happy to offer. This is most often done during these free periods that you mentioned, leaving my grading up to my own free time. Which, well, about 75-80% falls upon nighttime.”

Phoenix grimaced. “Hershel. That is a very irresponsible and unsustainable thing to do.”

“Lecturing me on scheduling, I see.”

“When do you usually get to bed?,” the lawyer inquired, crossing his arms.

“I’d prefer not to answer that question,” Hershel muttered.

“Hershel.”

“At around 1 or 2 in the morning.”

Phoenix frowned. Now, the million dollar question. “And when do you wake up for university?”

A sigh escaped the professor. “At 6:30 or so.”

Both of the lawyer’s eyebrows now shot up and almost disappeared into his hairline. “You mean to tell me that you never get more that 5 and a half hours of sleep per night?”

“Well, I…”

“Okay, Hershel, you’re gonna promise me something,” Phoenix said, and Hershel already knew that he wasn’t going to like it. “From now on, no more grading past 11 PM. If you don’t want to go to sleep yet, you’re at least going to go to bed with a good book or something. And maybe a nice, warm drink.”

Was this what being loved was like? Having someone looking out for you, making sure you got enough rest?

Haha, Hershel. You don’t even know if he loves you at all. Do not get your hopes up.

The words slid off his tongue with more ease than expected. “Okay, Phoenix. I promise.”

The smile returned to Phoenix’s face. “Good! And, speaking of nice, warm drinks…”

Phoenix got up from the chair he’d been sitting in, the wooden stairs making a screeching noise as he descended him. Hershel wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he heard some spoons and pots clinking against one another as Phoenix rummaged with the supplies in the kitchen. Around 15 minutes later, the stairs were ascended again.

Phoenix gently placed a cup of Earl Gray with milk into Hershel’s sweaty hands. “Here.”

Hershel’s eyes widened in surprise. “Tea? But how did you-”

Phoenix smirked; a smirk that would have caused the professor to melt on the spot if his body wasn’t already being fried from the inside. “You’re British. That's all I need to know.”

Hershel found it in him to smirk back. “Really, now? Believing in stereotypes, Mr Wright?”

Phoenix rolled his eyes, albeit there clearly being no trace of malice in his expression. “Look, I hate to break it to you, Professor, but you’re the embodiment of British stereotypes. It really was no far-fetched guess to figure you down mug after mug of black tea in your free time.”

Layton’s expression softened, and he finally brought the mug to his lips to take a sip. The warmth of the liquid filled his chest, offering much-needed relief from the lingering chills. “I suppose that’s fair.”

A pause.

“Do you think they’re doing all right?,” Hershel quietly asked.

Phoenix wasn’t sure what to say at first. He stood up and walked over to the window, gauging the silhouette of the tower. It was still standing, so there’s that.

“I’m worried Luke might be afraid,” the professor confessed, “He’s a very brave boy, and quite mature for his age. Too mature, if one were to ask me. He’s...he’s endured a lot, even before Labyrinthia. But like I’ve said, he’s...he’s just a boy.”

Hershel had a point. Maya, too, wasn’t completely fearless, and also had seen far too much for her age.

But Phoenix knew Maya, and he’d grown pretty close to Luke these past few months. And so, the corners of his mouth went up in a confident smile.

“I think,” he then said, “If anything, that tower should be afraid of them.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Barnham and Eve were at a loss for words when Luke mastered the puzzles that blocked access to the livable area of the Storyteller’s tower.

As the man’s loyal guard, Barnham had often asked himself what in the world was in that tower in the first place. He’d respected their leader’s need for privacy, of course, but being out for witches, Zacharias had been sure that there were clues up there. Very valuable clues, at that. Clues that would help him defeat witches once and for all.

Now, he wasn’t sure if witches even existed.

What the group didn’t expect, however, was a beautiful garden as they stepped out of the metal cage that acted as an elevator when pulled up by chains.

“Wow!,” Luke gasped, eyes glistening in awe. “Who knew that the storyteller had such a green thumb!”

Flowers and leaves shimmered in the moonlight. An artificial pond acted as a mirror, and Maya struck a pose as she looked into it, water flowing in from a fountain in the distance.

It seemed far from the sinister events that the Storyteller and his world were usually associated with.

“What is all this?,” Eve asked, despite well aware that none of them had a sufficient answer.

“This tower...it seems more akin to a castle,” Barnham murmured, taking a flower petal between his fingers. A water drop slid down his palm, and he quickly withdrew his hand.

“So this is Espella’s family home,” Luke said, putting his hands to his hips. “I wonder if she had any plans to ever come back here.”

“This was her home, right? This will always be her home,” Maya said. Nobody noticed Eve pressing her lips into a thin line.

The garden proved to be a suitable respite for the group. Nobody knew what lay ahead, what dangers they were about to face. Luke sunk his arms into the pond to about elbow-level, relishing in the cool water despite the warmest days already being over.

“You think they’re having fun back at the bakery?,” Maya suddenly asked, head tilted towards the starry sky.

Barnham chocked on his saliva. “Excuse me?!”

Maya wheezed. “No, oh my god- not like this. I meant if they’re finding something to entertain themselves with.”

“Not helping, Miss Fey,” Eve remarked.

“I meant board games! Puzzles! That kinda stuff!,” Maya said, growing exasperated.

“You can rest assured that the professor always has a puzzle up his sleeve!,” Luke said cheerfully, “And considering how good Mr Wright has gotten at puzzle-solving, he might even consider giving him one of his harder ones.”

Maya put a hand to her chin in thought, seizing an opportunity. “Well, yeah, I can only bet it’s gonna be hard…”

Barnham raised his sword.“Miss Fey! Cease this at once!”

The spirit medium was keeling over from laughter. Luke didn’t get it.

Good for him.

The line that was Eve's mouth thinned even further. “Moving on, I believe the room we’re searching for is right through the gate. It’s…”

Her expression suddenly turned somber, and even Maya had to stop laughing from her own joke. “I’ve visited it many times,” the high inquisitor quietly added, “It’s Espella’s childhood bedroom.”

The group looked at one another. Eve was right – this likely was the room with the most clues. Eve had told them all she knew, but even she wasn’t aware of all details concerning the relationship between Espella and her father. It was obvious they were estranged from one another, but what event had led to him wanting to frame her as source of all evil?

Then again, what kind of event could even possibly exist for a father to want to do that to his own child?

It was Barnham who discovered the book laying on the mattress.

He turned it in his hands, inspecting the clearly self-made seams and illustrations. The Story Of The Great Witch Bezella, it said, black on pink.

“What is this?,” he asked, holding it up.

Eve took it from him, her fingers shaking. “Where did you find that?!”

“On the bed,” Barnham shrugged.

“Oh, god,” the High Inquisitor breathed, “This...I know this book.” She flipped it open, browsing through the pages. “The Storyteller, he...he made it for Espella. Back when we were just children.”

“You knew each other as kids?,” Maya asked, gaping, but Barnham decided to read the book out loud, burying the topic of childhood acquaintances for now.

“There was a bad witch in the town,” Barnham began, “All of the carrots in the field disappeared, and all the money in the bank was turned into pumpkins.”

“What?,” Maya asked, “Why pumpkins?”

She was ignored. “The people of the town had to put up with all kinds of mischief from the witch. They didn’t know what to do. Then, one day, a brave young girl appeared and said to the townsfolk: “When the witch uses witchcraft, she always uses a big stick, doesn’t she? So if we take away her stick, we’ll be able to stop her!” After hearing this, the people of the town set a trap for the witch and managed to capture her. At her trial, the bad witch said this to the people: “Even now, the legendary Great Witch Bezella is living here in this town. Bezella is the queen of all witches! She is the one who gives us witches life!””

“So this is where it all started.” Luke concluded, putting a hand to his chin.

Barnham looked as if his entire world had just broken in half. The Great Witch Bezella was a storybook figure?!

He swallowed. “The townsfolk punished the witch, and peace was restored to the town once more. To this day, Bezella is still hiding somewhere in the town, but the brave townsfolk will not be beaten by the bad witches.”

The inquisitor closed the book.

“This is all very strange.”

“We should take this book to Espella,” Luke suggested, “I think this was a gift from her father. Maybe she knows more about it, don’t you think?”

Eve swallowed, too. Memories came flooding back. Memories she’d done everything to suppress.

“Yes. Yes, probably.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The next room they reached was the Storyteller’s study.

It matched the professor’s office when it came to tidiness. Parchment was scattered across the floor, it presumably being the very same parchment the Storyteller used to write his stories on. There weren’t any grand decorations present, such as the throne that Luke and Layton had encountered in the audience room. The only light source was the round stained glass ceiling, the moonlight that met it sending colorful rays through the room.

It was then that Eve found the photograph – hidden among several posters that were plastered onto the wall.

She wore an unreadable expression as she picked it up. “It can’t be…”

“Hm? What? What did you find?” Maya was immediately looking over Eve’s shoulder.

“A photograph?,” Luke asked, “But...I haven’t seen a single camera in this place. Even the court used court illustrations!”

“But this is definitely a photo,” Maya said, crossing her arms. “What could that mean?”

“This looks like Espella Cantabella,” Barnham said, pointing to the young girl depicted on the left side of the picture.

“I wonder who the other girl is,” Maya commented.

“That...that would be me,” Eve spoke up, clutching her hand into a fist.

All three gasped. “You?!”

“Y-yes,” Eve stammered, quickly stowing the photo away, “I- I cannot remember when and why this was taken, but...that is me. Unmistakably.”

“Hey, both of you have pendants like the one Nick and I found at the top of the bell tower!,” Maya suddenly exclaimed, “What could that mean?”

“I do not know exactly why both of us have it, but...it...ugh, this doesn’t make sense!”

Luke and Maya exchanged a glance. “Maybe it’s time we moved on,” Luke said, and everyone agreed.

Hopefully, the photo and the picture book would prove to be some solid evidence, despite it not actually being evidence for the case at hand.

“Hey, this piano – there’s a puzzle!,” Luke suddenly exclaimed, and Maya instantly rushed over.

“Let me try it, ‘kay? Pretty please?”

“Of course, Miss Fey!,” Luke said, making way.

And after Maya played some keys, the wall opened – revealing a stairway that led outside.

This was it. This was their final destination before everything would come together, and Maya and Luke would return to the Professor and Phoenix bearing good news.

The only sound being their quickened breathing echoing through the stone hallway, they made their way up the stairs, only to end up on a massive rooftop.

The view was astonishing. The entirety of Labyrinthia could be overlooked from above, and the town looked almost peaceful despite recent events. No odd fires in the woods, no people being replaced by golden replicas, nobody being publicly executed.

The only thing that was odd was the Storyteller, the man who had supposedly perished a week ago, standing at the railing, owl on his shoulder, as if absolutely nothing was amiss.

“The Storyteller!,” Barnham exclaimed, attracting the man’s attention.

The Storyteller snapped around, and if looks could kill, they’d all be corpses.

“I- what?,” the man breathed, “I expected Professor Layton.”

“Not happening, pal!,” Maya shouted, an accusatory finger directed at Labyrinthia’s leader, “Why and how are you alive?!”

“No matter,” he grunted, choosing to nod towards Barnham and Eve instead, “Why and how are you here?”

Oh, no!

“We saw these two approach the tower,” Eve calmly stated, “I am well aware how much havoc they’ve caused ever since they entered your story. However, I couldn’t prohibit them from investigating, which is why Zacharias and I decided to go with them and make sure they didn’t try and sabotage anything.”

Smooth one, Eve, Maya and Luke thought.

“Hmpf,” was the reply.

The owl flew from his shoulder, disappearing into the night. Without the trusty animal by his side, the Storyteller seemed even more intimidating than usual. Luke felt safer in the presence of the bird.

“Regardless whether it it Layton or the two of you,” the man then said, “I’ve had enough of your running around, flagrantly contravening the flow of my Story. As such, I can no longer ignore your meddling.”

The Storyteller fished out a notebook out of the long robe he wore, putting feather to parchment as he began to write.

Maya and Luke’s hearts skipped a beat. What were the man’s intentions?!

Suddenly, the knight armors standing around the railing that they had presumed to be empty came to live. Each and every single one of them raised their swords, and Maya and Luke felt their hearts stop for a millisecond, their confident expressions giving way to sheer and utter panic.

Barnham had never felt so enraged in his life. “Don’t get hurt,” he simply hissed before drawing his own sword.

Maya and Luke were crouching down in the corner as the fight unfolded, head in their hands and eyes squeezed shut. Both of them knew that Phoenix and Hershel would march up and kill the storyteller if anything happened to them before giving them a lecture on how they were right about the mission being dangerous, and in the case that they escaped this situation safe and whole, they vowed to leave out this detail in their inevitable retelling.

Barnham threw a sword at Eve, which she caught. Her eyes were full of hatred as she defeated the knights one by one at Barnham’s side, and the Storyteller seemed to whither under her gaze. Maya screamed when one of the knights nearly impaled Barnham’s neck, but the inquisitor jumped out of the way in the last second.

They remained either lucky or skilled, but following that, the duo of formerly loyal servants to the Storyteller managed to fight the group to safety. Well, almost.

Because the man had an ace up his sleep in the form of a massive knight wielding an ax.

“Eve, Barnham!,” Maya shouted, “Behind you!”

“Oh, goodness-,” Barnham exclaimed before the ax rammed into the ground behind him, and it was only then that they realized the floor was the stained glass ceiling in the Storyteller’s room – because the ax smashed the glass to smithereens.

Barnham fell first. Eve slipped and followed him, and without thinking twice, Maya and Luke jumped. Jumped into the room, over the motionless knight on the ground with his ax buried beneath the armor. Jumped over the scattered parchment and bolted straight out of the room.

“Run!,” Eve yelled, “You never know what the hell he sends after us!”

They lost track of where they were as they hurried through Espella’s room, through the fairy tale garden that created an illusion of what the tower really hid.

They didn’t stop until they were on solid ground and at least 20 feet away from the Storyteller’s tower.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

They were panting, gripping their knees, but the initial fear had passed.

“What the hell was that?!,” Maya exclaimed after a moment.

“He really is out for blood!,” Luke said, shocked as he flattened his cap.

“This monster,” Eve growled, “He really has no mercy.”

“I still have no idea what he’s planning, but it can’t be good,” Maya grumbled.

“What now?,” Luke asked.

“Here’s what,” Eve said, “You hold on to the photograph and the book. Barnham, give it here.”

The inquisitor handed her the picture book. Eve nodded.

“Good. Now, you get those items to Layton and Wright. When the trial begins, you will need them.”

Maya nodded fiercely, pressing the book and photo to her chest in a protective manner.

“Do you know who the inquisitor is?,” Luke inquired.

Eve nodded, but she didn’t seem thrilled. “That would be me.”

“You?,” Maya gasped.

“Yes. I was assigned to the final witch trial from the start.”

Barnham’s jaw fell open in outrage. “What?! I was never informed about such developments! I was under the full assumption that the duty to indict the Great Witch Bezella would fall upon me!”

“Not this time, Zacharias. Besides, you are relieved of all your inquisitive duties anyway,” Eve reminded him.

Ah, right.

Maya raised his eyebrow. “You said Barnham was arrested for treason?”

Eve sighed. “Yes. At least, that’s what it looks like to the inquisition. I didn’t wish to risk my plans for next week’s trial, so I went with it and took him away. Naturally, I have no intention to earnestly rob him of his freedom, but I need to perform my duty in order not to blow my cover.”

“How are you gonna explain defending us up there?,” Luke asked, nodding towards the tower.

“That is a very good question, but for now, I shall stick to the story that I simply did not want any harm to come to the two of you. Not only would that have legal consequences, but your respective friends would not be very happy, I’m certain.”

“Legal?,” Luke mused, “As if there are any laws in place for that. Besides, I’m sure the Storyteller can rewrite the laws as he pleases.”

Eve sighed. “You raise an excellent point, Luke. But I digress. We must focus on the bigger picture at the moment. And now, the two of you have better get going. Those items won’t deliver themselves.”

“Aye-aye. Ma’am!,” Luke said, saluting Eve.

The inquisitors exchanged a smile as the two teenagers hopped towards the bakery.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

A photograph of Eve and Espella as well as an old picture book was not what Phoenix had expected to receive following Luke and Maya’s expedition to the Storyteller’s tower, but he’d take it regardless.

The two of them had returned unharmed, thank god. One less person on Phoenix “To kill if it ever becomes legal”-list, and said list was becoming rather long with all the assholes he’d have to deal with in his life.

Him, Hershel, Luke and Maya had attempted to piece together the puzzle, but with little success. They’d just have to hope that it’ll come to them during the trial, and with that massive responsibility resting on his shoulders, Phoenix had an exceptionally hard time focusing on his notes on the evening before the trial day.

24 hours. In 24 hours, I’ve got to go out there, and solve this, and save Espe-

“Nervous?”

Phoenix nearly jumped at the voice. His pen dropped from his hand as he whisked around. “Hershel- You shouldn’t be up-”

The professor waved him off. “Not to worry. I feel considerably better than yesterday, and I know my body. I can tell that I am indeed on the mend.”

The lawyer wasn’t impressed. “Are you sure? Are you really 100%-”

Layton’s smile was enough to cut Phoenix off. “Yes. Now, allow me to ask again: Are you nervous?”

Just on cue, a drop of sweat rolled down Phoenix’s temple. He had to admit it – his heart was racing, and his stomach felt as if it was being squeezed. If he failed tomorrow, Espella may not die – well, unless the Storyteller went batshit, in which case they’d have Barnham and Eve at their side – but Labyrinthia’s truth would never be uncovered, they’d be punished, likely never sent home…

Phoenix hated any of those outcomes, and thus, failure wasn’t an option.

But what had he signed up for when taking over the defense for the single trial the entire town had been looking forward to for years on end, hell, basically since this fabrication of a medieval world had existed?

“Yeah,” Phoenix quietly said, “Is that bad?”

Hershel shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. It means you care, and as you’ve demonstrated the past week, that very ability is one of, if not the, strongest and most invaluable trait of yours.”

Phoenix blinked. “The past week?”

If the lawyer wasn’t mistaken, there was a faint blush on Layton’s cheeks as he proceeded. “I highly doubt I would have made as swift of a recovery as I did if you hadn’t been there.”

“But- all I did was-”

“You stayed,” Hershel muttered, “That alone made a huge difference.”

Oh, wow.

Phoenix was stunned, but not in a bad way, really. No, in fact, it was a huge honor, having been able to assist Layton like that, even if...no, especially if it was due to his mere presence…

The butterflies in Phoenix’s stomach acted up at the thought, but he’d already agreed to letting them be there.

Suddenly, he stood up. “Hershel?”

“Hm?”

The lawyer nodded towards the window. “’S a clear and pretty night, and that hill over there is empty.” He wasn’t sure what possessed him to ask his next question. “Wanna dance?”

Phoenix instantly regretted ever opening his mouth when Hershel’s eyes widened in puzzlement. “Dance?”

Another drop of sweat trickled down his forehead. This was just another court situation, wasn’t it? Phoenix had made a statement, and if he were to succeed, he had to see it through.

To the bitter end.

He nodded. “Mhm. Dance. Just- I dunno, to distract ourselves from the impending train wreck that is tomorrow’s final witch trial, and-”

Hershel gently took Phoenix’s hand, and the fond look on his face was enough to melt the lawyer into a mental puddle. “I’d love to.”

I didn’t think I’d get that far, was the first thing Phoenix thought upon receiving the answer. But he’d be damned if he wasn’t the happiest man on Earth, and so he squeezed the professor’s hand and led him out the bakery’s door, dragging him behind himself as if they were two excited children. To be fair, they were laughing like ones. Patty shook her head with an affectionate smile.

It had only been a matter of time.

The grassy hill wasn’t far – just a few hundred meters to combat. The entire town square, lit up by the torches handing on the houses’ facades, was perfectly visible. Thankfully, they weren’t powerful enough to pollute the night sky, and just as that time in the forest, the great wagon was right above them when Phoenix pulled Hershel up the last few steps so they were now on top.

“It’s beautiful,” Layton breathed.

“Yeah, it really is, huh?” He squeezed Hershel’s hand again. “I’m going to be so bold and assume you know how to waltz?”

“Ah, yes, about that...I’m terribly sorry to disappoint you, but I, in fact, never learned.”

Phoenix’s eyebrows shot up. “You haven’t?”

Hershel shook his head. “The opportunity never presented itself.”

“Well, jeez. Hope that’s not weird, but I kinda didn’t expect that.”

Hershel chuckled. “Not weird at all. I understand. I, too, would expect of a man in a sophisticated looking top hat to know how to classic dance.”

Relieved that he hadn’t offended the man, Phoenix offered a sheepish shrug. “You know, that’s actually great news for me. Now I’m not the only one who doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

“We’re going to do great, Phoenix,” Layton assured him, albeit the giddy smile never faded from his face.

“Gotcha,” Phoenix agreed. “Since I’m taller, I guess I get the privilege to lead?”

“If you’re not terribly uncomfortable with it, then I certainly wouldn’t mind just that,” Hershel said.

“Consider it done.”

The lawyer extended his arm, wiggling with his fingers to signal his dance partner to lay his hand in his. A wave of electricity nearly knocked him off his feet when Hershel’s warm palm made contact with his skin, but he had to focus.

In his boldest move yet, Phoenix put his other hand to Hershel’s waist, pulling him towards him.

He nervously chuckled as Hershel’s other hand found his back. “That okay?”

The professor nodded, an endearing blush on his face. “Yes. More than okay.”

And without further ado, without overthinking, without second-guessing – they danced.

It was magical.

More magical than any Labyrinthian witch could ever be; more magical than the spell this town was under. There was no music, simply some grasshoppers chirping in the distance, as the stars twinkled above them and moonlight painted their flushed faces blue.

The world didn’t exist. Nothing existed apart from each other; nothing mattered aside from the warmth and the joy and – might as well call it by what it was – the love the other was providing.

Hershel didn’t pull away when Phoenix tightened his grip around his waist. Phoenix didn’t freeze when, after guiding Layton back in after a lazy spin, the professor’s head found its way against his chest, mop of brown hair tickling his nose as Hershel’s hat still lay discarded on the night table in the bakery.

If Maya and Luke were to see them in this moment, they’d never live this down for the rest of their days, because whatever they’d been trying to, funnily enough, dance around was now staring them into their faces. And albeit they didn’t say it – not yet, anyway – both Hershel and Phoenix had the feeling that the other knew exactly what this waltz under the stars meant for them.

Chapter 7: The Winning Combination

Notes:

today's prompt: last

The entirety of Labyrinthia had come.

The pressure sitting on Phoenix’s shoulders had multiplied by at least a dozen. The dance had helped, it really had. It had helped a lot. Hershel helped a lot.

But that didn’t change the fact that the fate of this town was now in his hands, like a putty to be shaped. And if he put it into the wrong mold, it would all crumble.

He had an amazing team by his side, though. So much was certain.

And they’d win. He’d make sure of it.

Nobody knew why the trial had been scheduled for the late evening. Phoenix suspected that the reason for that was to enhance the atmosphere – apparently, it was more aesthetic to burn witches in the light of the full moon.

God, he couldn’t wait to finally open the citizens’ eyes.

This was promising to be a rather unconventional trial. This time, he wasn’t trying to “beat” the inquisition and prove his client’s innocence. No, he would work together with Darklaw, pretend to actually argue, while step by step revealing the true story behind Bezella, Labyrinthia and the witches that had been plaguing the town for the past years.

If they managed to corner the Storyteller into confessing, they’d succeed. If not, then…

Well, it wouldn't be fun.

The little evidence they had would have to suffice.

In the little tent that acted as a defendant’s lobby, Phoenix, Maya (in a ridiculous disguise to conceal the fact that she was never dead), Espella, Luke and the professor were seated, patiently waiting for the go-ahead. The court for the final witch trial had been set up outside, the ridiculous amount of fire preventing them from enjoying the starts in the night sky.

Espella didn’t know what Darklaw had planned. The High Inquisitor had laid out her plan: For the first hour or so, Espella would be her witness. She’d try to get as much information out of her as possible; what she’d experienced, what she remembered, what she believed. Eventually, she would reveal that Shades existed with the help of one very familiar witness – Kira.

The rest, however?

The rest she would leave to Layton and Wright.

And to Hershel fell perhaps one of the hardest tasks: Convince the Storyteller to come out of hiding and present himself to the court, alive and well.

Sure, they’d call him out for his crimes, but he should have seen that coming the moment the four foreigners stepped foot into the story.

“It’s starting soon,” Maya said, worry in her tone.

“Yeah,” Phoenix nodded, peeking out from the tent. “The people wanna see witches burn. Disgusting.”

“Well, that’s what you’re here for, am I right, Nick?,” Maya said, clasping her friend on the back.

“Oof- yeah, well, I sure as hell hope I won’t disappoint.”

“You could never, Phoenix,” Hershel said in a soft tone. His hand on Phoenix’s back was much more gentle than Maya’s clasp, and Phoenix actually felt his nerves calm down.

Maya put her hands on her hips and sighed a comically deep sigh. “Are you two together or what?”

An inquisitor burst in. “Defender! Accused! The trial shall commence.”

Maya’s question would have to wait.

Phoenix took a deep breath. “Let’s do this.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The opening statement was as powerful as Phoenix had imagined it to be.

“People of Labyrinthia!,” Darklaw exclaimed, the cold edge that she’d let melt in their company returning when in front of the entire city, “The Story has ended. Its end has been sealed through the Storyteller’s death. The one who put an end to the life of the Storyteller, and to the Story which governed out lives, was the Great Witch Bezella. A foul embodiment of evil who has long been lurking among us, concealed deep within the consciousness of a certain girl.”

Whispers. Espella shuddered on the defendant’s stand.

“I’m sure you are all aware of her name. I refer to, of course, Espella Cantabella. Ten days ago, at dusk, a tragedy unfolded right in front of us all. A giant fire dragon descended into the town square, devouring the Storyteller. ‘Twas a nightmarish vision that we shall never be able to forget. That fearsome fire beast, of which we had only heard tell through legend, returned at the hand of the Great Witch.”

She closed her eyes, and Phoenix, empathetic as he was, could feel how painful it was for her to have to incriminate her childhood friend – if that photograph was anything to go by.

“May this trial serve as an offering,” she finally said, “An offering to the Storyteller, who can be with us no longer.”

The role she had to play was most certainly a most tragic one.

“Thank you, High Inquisitor,” the judge said, look just as solemn. “The inquisition may now begin proceedings.”

Darklaw nodded, seemingly towards the judge, but Phoenix felt her gaze on him.

Time to set their plan in motion.

Espella was called to the witness stand.

Phoenix felt awful, seeing her haunted expression. She’d been put through the wringer this entire time, and now she had to endure this final punch to finally release her from her pain.

He hoped she’d be able to forgive them.

“Witness,” Darklaw began, “State your name – and your real name, as well.”

“My name is Espella Cantabella,” Espella breathed, “But I have...another name, too. Bezella.”

Phoenix should have expected the gallery to react to this. The gavel had to fall three, four times in order to restore an inkling of the previous silence. “Order! Order! Order in the court! Then, you- you really do admit that you are the Great Witch?! You openly concede that you are Bezella herself – the cause of all evil and destruction?!”, the judge demanded to know.

“Yes,” was Espella’s simple reply, and Phoenix wished to curse the Storyteller to hell and never back for ever planting that thought into her brain.

“The inquisition was right,” the judge proceeded, astonished, “The accused herself has spoken. It would seem there is no need for an interrogation-”

“Hold it!,” Darklaw interrupted him, “I believe it would only be fair to hear the accused’s side of the story. Wouldn’t you agree, defender?”

With all the confidence Phoenix could muster, he nodded. “I would, High Inquisitor Darklaw. Your Honor, if I may?”

The judge nodded. “Very well.”

Espella started talking. Bezella had been lying dormant within her, she said. She summoned the fire dragon, and didn’t know why she’d killed her father.

Maybe because you haven’t killed him, Phoenix thought, but she’d realize within the next few hours.

Hopefully.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The light of the torches reflected in the gold of the parade’s wagon.

The Storyteller, otherwise known as Espella’s father, Arthur Cantabella, was polishing it in the half-darkness. His entrance was supposed to be memorable, something to shake Labyrinthia to its very core. He could only hope that Darklaw hadn’t spoken of his alive condition to the town, but if his calculations were correct, she was currently preoccupied with prosecuting his daughter.

And he had to make sure everything was in place, be it the wheels, the throne, or the-

“I had a feeling we might find you here.”

The Storyteller whisked around.

The silhouette in the top hat felt like something out of a horror book.

“Professor Layton,” Arthur hissed through gritted teeth as the man approached him, his little apprentice never leaving his side. “A relief to see you up and well.”

“Nothing eludes you, it seems,” Hershel spoke, “But nothing eludes me, either. But what am I saying – you already are well aware of that.”

Arthur furrowed his eyebrows, hand that had just been polishing the gold dropping to his side. “Unfortunately.”

The professor stepped into the light.

He looked tired, worn out. Not less determined, but it was obvious the past few months had taken a toll on him. Arthur would have collapsed on the spot if looks had the ability to murder, and if he were to look at it from an outsider’s perspective, he would have said that he deserved it.

“I do not mean to sound condescending,” Layton began, “But I advise you to forget about any parade and wagon. If you have not realized by now, your most loyal servants have changed sides. And once your crimes are exposed in court, you will be left on your own. This outcome is inevitable.”

It seemed a dozen wrinkles were added ti Arthur’s face just at this sentence.

“You have the chance to explain and show yourself. The only question left unanswered is whether you can fathom doing so not as the hero you think you are, but rather as the villain that is not as misunderstood as you may claim he is.”

“You do not understand,” Arthur spat, “To have your entire life taken away because your daughter decided not to listen to you. To have to spend the rest of your days making sure she is sheltered and shielded because her own disobedience has caused her to become a mere shell of her former self. It’s exhausting, Layton, and I am tired of her not getting herself together after an entire decade. Not to mention she ran away, too!”

“And your natural response was to make life even more challenging for her? To reinforce her belief in the fact that she is the Great Witch?”

“She is a witch,” the Storyteller snapped, “Whoever follows her is cursed. You, yourself, were turned into gold. Your blue-clad companions were nearly killed in an explosion at the marketplace.”

Killed in an explosion-

Nearly killed, Hershel. Nearly.

He shook his head to rid himself of infiltrating thoughts.

Eve had told Phoenix that the Storyteller believed in witchcraft “wholeheartedly”. Was that what she’d meant by that?

“Of course actual witches don’t exist,” Arthur said, “But if there was one, it would be her.”

“It genuinely puzzles me how you can speak with no remorse,” Hershel remarked, “Your own flesh and blood is about to be put to death.”

“I am dead,” the Storyteller said, “Internally, I died the day that bell was rang, engulfing this town in flames. That was the death of Arthur Cantabella.”

Luke was frightened, to say the least. To know that a father could indeed be so cold-hearted…

It reminded him of that time in Misthallery, when he’d believed his own father had been behind the attacks carried out by a mysterious specter. The betrayal he’d felt had been of unimaginable proportion. And this time, it was real – Espella’s father truly had committed himself to destroying their relationship for his own gain.

What did he gain, anyway? Peace of mind?

Well, he better not be gaining peace of mind from killing his own daughter.

“Come with us, Mr Cantabella,” Layton told him, “There are several people who would like to know what plans you’d been harboring. Whether they will be informed of these in your presence or not is your decision to make, but just know that you cannot stop the process.”

Arthur’s owl hooed.

He dropped his rag.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

It was to be expected that Espella didn’t have a clear memory of what had actually occurred that evening. At all.

The judge and, if Phoenix had to guess, the entire audience, too, was likely attributing this to the fact that Espella’s memories were blurred because she’d switched between forms. Darklaw, too, claimed just that, but only Phoenix and Maya were able to make out the weakness in that statement.

It really was good to know that she’d joined forces with them.

Espella recalled that she summoned the dragon after entering the tower, and she also recalled the Legendary Fire, which was odd in itself since that event had transpired a century ago – if the legend was to be believed.

Then, she stated that she didn’t recall anything after all, and Phoenix wanted to bury his head in his hands. This was proving itself to be a major catastrophe.

In the middle of the questioning, however, came their saving grace.

A vigilante, one of the knights having been on guard duty of the bell tower, came rushing into the courtroom. Of course, this had been schemed beforehand – he would be all fired up, claiming that he’d found someone hiding in the bell tower. Related to the incident or not, the judge would be forced to call a recess to get to the bottom of it, and the trial would gain a new witness.

This is how Kira joined the party.

Espella had been released from the witness stand, and Phoenix could only hope that they were treating her to something to drink and one of Patty’s loafs. Knowing how ruthless the knights were, his hopes were low, but he was a man who generally chose to believe in humanity’s good.

But now was the time to match forward in full concentration.

Okay. With Kira now on the witness stand, Labyrinthia’s illusion will slowly begin to unravel…

Phoenix kneaded his hands, grimacing at the amount of sweat he felt on his own palms. What if Darklaw changed her mind? No, she wouldn’t do that...although, with everything else she was capable of, Phoenix wouldn’t say that it'd surprise him if she were to back-stab them and their mission last minute.

The only thing keeping him from genuinely believing that was the way Eve obviously very deeply cared about Espella; deeply enough to play along with the Storyteller’s scheme just to keep her safe, and conspire with them when it came to this very trial.

“I must say,” the judge began after he’d calmed down the gallery, “I am quite surprised at this recent turn of events. To see Miss Kira at the witness stand once again...Frankly, I cannot believe my eyes! You were most certainly sent to the flames as a witch!”

The obliviousness of the people here caused Phoenix to flinch. Not only that, it was also the fact that they were so blatantly okay with murder, justifying it with fighting against witchcraft.

Witchcraft that didn’t even exist, mind you.

The judge’s expression turned even more stern. “Listen well, Miss Kira. Your existence alone jeopardizes the very peace of Labyrinthia. Yet, given the current situation...it is now imperative that you testify to this court regarding what you saw. Immediately!”

Kira had turned from the chatty flower seller into a timid shade, but Phoenix couldn’t care less. Eve surely had made sure that she regretted framing Espella, despite Eve herself pretending to frame Espella.

Phoenix had to remind himself multiple times that this was all in pursuit of the truth.

“I came to this town,” Kira finally said, “To summon forth the fire dragon and kill the Storyteller.”

Wait, Eve straight up framed her?!

The judge’s jaw fell open in shock. “Y-you came here to- KILL the Storyteller?”

“Yes. That was my task.”

“And yet, it was the accused that summoned the fire dragon in the end,” Eve said through gritted teeth.

“Now hold on,” Phoenix said, “First of all, we still cannot say whether it was the defendant or not who did, in fact, summon any dragon. Besides, Kira here was still present at the scene of the crime – with the intent to murder the Storyteller! The defense insists we be permitted to continue with our cross-examination on those grounds!”

“I must admit, I too am extremely interested in hearing what this witness has to say,” the judge muttered, “Defender! You may begin your interrogation!”

“All right.” Phoenix resisted the urge to crack his knuckles. “Kira, uhm...you just said “fire dragon”?”

“Yes. It was all a part of my orders. I was told to come here this evening and wait for the right moment when the Storyteller would appear before the people. Only then was I supposed to shout out the incantation as loudly as possible. Oh great beast from the inferno, heed my call! Granwyrm!”

The judge hid away as if he were afraid that a giant dragon would appear and swallow the special court whole.

Eve rolled her eyes. “The girl does not possess a scepter. It is impossible for her to summon any sort of magical dragon.”

“Wait, but- doesn't the Great Witch Bezella not need a scepter at all?,” Phoenix countered.

“The girl is not the Great Witch Bezella. For now, we still have to assume that the Great Witch is that girl here – Espella Cantabella. There can be no other.”

She was right. According to the Storyteller’s very own story, there could be no other. It was abundantly clear that Espella was the one targeted. As the master of the shades, Eve had seized the opportunity and framed Kira to create a witness that could work in their favor, but they still had a long way to go until the pieces would fall together for the town.

They needed to get the ball rolling, fast.

Kira took over that task before they could even speak a word. “I used a robe of invisibility so no one would be able to see me.”

Aha!

The gallery began muttering once more. Eve, however, looked content. She gave Phoenix a nod.

They could do this.

“There was, in fact, a robe dropped at the crime scene that night,” Phoenix began.

“A robe?,” the judge asked, confused.

“Ms Kira.” Phoenix pulled out the slightly crumpled, pitch-black robe. He supposed it was natural for it not to be in the best state after having been stored in some drawer at the bakery for the bast ten days, but he still sort of cringed upon presenting it to the court. “That robe of invisibility you just mentioned. It wouldn’t happen to be this one right here, would it?”

Darklaw picked up on her cue. “How ludicrous! You are trying to tell the court THAT is the robe of invisibility? If it’s really a robe of invisibility, then how is it that we can see it right now, dirty white spots and all?”

For a moment, Phoenix was stunned into silence. Wait, that’s actually a good point. Huh, I thought we were working together!

“Wait, Nick!,” Maya jumped in, “Maybe the spots are the problem! We should wash it and then see!”

Phoenix brushed a bit of the flour off the robe’s surface. Patty Eclaire had certainly been astronomically angry upon seeing her surrogate daughter get framed, willing to waste an entire bag of flour to mess with the inquisition.

“Your Honor!,” the lawyer then called. “The flour must be impairing the robe’s functionality. The defense requests that we take a brief recess to wash it.”

The judge nodded. “There is a small fountain at the edge of the square. Head there right now and wash the robe so that we can get to the bottom of this. Quickly now!”

Maya and Phoenix raced off, robe tucked under Phoenix’s arm. The moment they reached the fountain, Maya dunked it into the water after teasing Phoenix for how he usually did his laundry, and then…

“The robe,” she whispered, “It’s- it’s disappeared.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Kira’s explanation was simple: “Only the inhabitants of the Eldwitch Woods can see the robe.”

The judge was startled that the woods outside of Labyrinthia even had a name. Phoenix was thrilled that they were finally getting somewhere when it came to the reveal.

“Our village lies deep within the recesses of the forest, in a world much different from this one. That’s where I live. As long as we obey the “law” of the land, we are allowed to live there.”

The judge was baffled. “What do you mean by that, witness?”

“We carry out tasks,” Kira continued, “Tasks given us by our mistress...the Great Witch.”

A collective gasp sounded through the gallery. “The Great Witch?,” the judge repeated, “Bezella?”

“She has no name,” Kira mumbled, “She is merely the Great Witch.”

“Hmm.” It was clear as day that the judge wasn’t buying it, but he urged Kira to continue.

“She told me to summon the Fire Dragon and kill the Storyteller. But I couldn’t do it...Someone did it before me, and I hid. That’s when I remember somebody grabbing me and dragging me out of hiding.”

Ah. It seemed that Darklaw’s plan to frame her for the “murder” had gone less than smoothly.

Phoenix shot her a glance. Indeed, Eve was looking to the side, a bitter gleam in her eyes. Phoenix could only hope this wouldn’t have too much on an impact on the further proceedings.

“Do you perhaps remember who it was that grabbed you?,” the judge asked, and Kira was about to shook her head, when-

“It was I,” Darklaw said, “I grabbed her.”

What is she doing?!, Phoenix thought to himself, but something in his gut told him that he could trust Eve in that matter.

“Whaaaaat?,” the judge said, eyes wide, and Phoenix could only think about the fact that this poor man would end up at the brink of a heart attack if this trial kept going.

And it had no intention of stopping.

“It was you, High Inquisitor Darklaw?,” he asked again, and Eve nodded.

“Yes. It was indeed me.”

A slam of the gavel. “In that very curious case, I believe it would be most beneficial if we heard your testimony, High Inquisitor Darklaw.”

She nodded, but showed no ounce of emotion otherwise.

“The only problem I have is...who will act as inquisitor in your place? Without an inquisitor on the other side, this trial cannot go on…”

More whispers in the gallery. The people here sure were noisy, Phoenix figured. The judge shared that opinion, and was about to put his gavel to use again.

And then he entered.

With confident strides, hand to the brim of his hat, eyes as gentle as they were cold. Standing up straight, as if he hadn’t been limping literally days prior.

Hershel glanced up. “I believe I can fill that role.”

Phoenix did his best to act shocked. “Professor, wait...what are you saying?!”

“I can prove conclusively,” Layton stated, “That Espella Cantabella, is in fact the Great Witch Bezella”

The gallery erupted in whispers as Hershel stepped behind the inquisitor’s bench. The courtroom’s torches and other various flames were nothing compared to what the sight of the archaeologist on the opposite side of the courtroom was doing to Phoenix. The determined expression on his face, the way he carried himself, damn it, he was attractive.

“My only concern here is the truth,” Hershel explained, “If seeking it requires us to stand on opposite sides of the courtroom, then so be it. I expect you to defend Miss Cantabella with everything you’ve got…” He paused, and for a brief second, his serious face gave way to a smile. “...Phoenix.”

Phoenix grinned back.

The poor judge was probably questioning his entire life by now, and slammed the gavel before he could completely lose his mind. “Court is back in session. Are you prepared, High Inquisitor Darklaw?”

“So long as I remain on the witness stand, I am no longer High Inquisitor. Simply “Darklaw” will suffice.”

Phoenix swallowed.

Showdown time.

He leaned forward on the desk. “Ms Darklaw, I’d just like to confirm something. A moment ago, we established that you were, in fact, present at the bell tower during the time of the incident. That makes a total of three people at the scene.”

“It would appear that was the case,” Eve confirmed.

“However, you managed to stay hidden from ten different guards – with the help of this right here,” Phoenix said, holding up the robe of invisibility. “In other words, there is some reason to be suspicious of your actions to night.”

Another slam of the gavel. “Lady Darklaw, I ask that you tell the court what happened at the time of the incident.”

Eve nodded. “Very well.”

Hershel and Phoenix exchanged a glance that they hoped was not too terribly infiltrated with the feelings they harbored for one another. This was not the time or place for this.

Darklaw began speaking. “The town square was to be the parade’s final stop. As I passed by the bell tower, a pair of footprints leading inside caught my eye. That’s when I realized that Espella had, to my expectations, entered the tower – by force or not.”

Her facade – the facade that she had kept up for years – finally cracked.

“I couldn’t let her be framed for this! Knowing that Kira, the one I wanted to take the blame for this, was hiding in the belfry, I took the robe and sneaked inside with the intent to get Espella out of there. But I was too late, and now we’re in this mess.”

The court was dead silent.

Hershel had his arms folded behind his back, eyes closed. Phoenix, too, was rather downcast.

Welp, they’d shattered everyone’s beliefs.

“W-what…?,” the judge finally found it in him to say.

“That’s right,” Eve hissed, “Espella isn’t guilty. Neither is Kira. Nobody is! And I’m tired of this, and so I will humbly ask Inquisitor Layton to bring in the final witness for this trial – for he can explain himself!”

Okay, that was QUICK!, Phoenix thought, but he could understand. The facade wasn’t the only thing about Eve that was cracking – she herself would soon be unable to withstand the pressure anymore, and the last thing Phoenix would do was blame her for it.

He’d feel the same way.

The judge, however, didn’t.

He whacked his gavel once more. “Order! Order in the court! What in the world is going on?! Inquisitor Layton, would you be so kind to explain?!”

Phoenix had never seen Hershel’s eyes so icy. “Certainly, Your Honor. You see, everything this trial was about today… was an illusion.”

Shocked whispers.

Hershel stepped out from behind the inquisitor’s bench, arms still folded behind his back, and walked into the middle of the court, footsteps audible in the silence.

“The Storyteller has not perished. He is alive and well, having been hiding in his tower ever since he was supposedly murdered by a supposed fire dragon, which supposedly had been summoned by his very own daughter – Espella Cantabella.”

More whispers. Layton raised his hand. The gallery immediately quieted.

“Had Phoenix and I, nor our companions, been here, the story would have unraveled as followed: Espella Cantabella would be sent to the bell tower, casting the spell Granwyrm, causing a fire dragon to appear. Believed that your beloved leader was dead, you, the townspeople, would have held this very trial, and, within seconds, sentenced Espella to death. To an actual death – as this pit of fire that you see is genuine, not a mere dummy. The town would be rid of the supposed “Great Witch Bezella,” and the Storyteller would have heroically appeared, announcing his survival and his plans for this town.”

Even having known this already, Phoenix felt sick to his stomach.

That man wanted to actually kill his own daughter.

“You would have flourished. The man would have been freed of his burdens; the burden of, and it pains me to state this, the burden of his daughter, Espella,” Hershel finished, “But, as Ms Darklaw has said, it would probably beneficial for all of us if the man himself were to elaborate. With that, inquisition calls the Storyteller – Arthur Cantabella – to the stand!”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

For the normally so animated gallery, the silence that filled the special court was almost eerie.

The Storyteller, Arthur Cantabella himself, entered the hall, his footsteps audible even from a few miles away. At least, that was what Phoenix was almost sure of. He had his head sunken low as he trotted up to the witness stand, and Phoenix knew a caught criminal when he saw now.

The judge was the first to speak. “I don’t quite know what to say...I am truly shocked...to see the Storyteller again! Alive and well!”

“Spare yourself the emotion, Your Honor,” the man said through gritted teeth, “You will wish I was dead after you hear what I have to say.”

“You were called here to expose the true identity of Bezella,” Hershel chimed in before the judge could reply, “And I fully intend to make you do just that, as this wouldn’t be possible without you, Mr Storyteller.”

Arthur spotted Espella, who had been brought back into the courtroom at her own insistence. Eve had a protective arm in front of her, and once again the Storyteller would not have survived if looks could kill. “Espella,” he choked out.

“Father,” the girl said, and Phoenix internally cheered at the sheer coldness of her voice.

“It’s been a long time, Espella,” Arthur tried, “Four years, in fact. You must have experienced many hardships, living among the townsfolk. This daughter of mine...never fits in with the others, no matter how hard she tries.”

“I am not your daughter,” Espella interjected, “And none of the hardships I’ve experienced in town were nearly as hard as what you and your wretched pen made me go through.”

That silenced the man as his daughter continued to speak.

“In fact, there were people who supported me. Aunt Patty was very kind, and the customers who came to our bakery were nice to me.”

“I’m happy to hear that,” Arthur said, lips pressed together. Phoenix couldn’t tell whether he meant that or not.

“Mr Storyteller, it’s time to put everything in order now. The townsfolk, and your daughter especially, deserve to know the truth, no matter how horrid it may be. The truth about yourself...and the story.”

Arthur didn’t want to admit defeat. Of course he didn’t – that would basically mean turning himself in, right here and now, in a court of justice. But there were eyes on him, dozens, hundreds of eyes, and he couldn’t escape if he wanted to.

“Yes, I suppose it is time I told you the truth,” he finally relented, “Your Honor? Let us begin. In this trial...I shall be judged.”

This wasn’t the first time during a witch trial that Phoenix felt he could cut the atmosphere with a knife as Arthur began to speak. “Although you know me as the Storyteller, I have one more identity. I am the president of Labrelum Inc. This whole town...is one of Labrelum’s research facilities. It may be hard for you to comprehend, but this land is rich in a very special substance which affects everyone who lives there. This substance enables the manipulation of people’s minds. And that is what Labrelum is researching. The experiment began ten years ago, and the townsfolk all became test subjects.”

How many dubious crimes had this man committed?, Phoenix asked himself. However, this very obviously wasn’t even half of the explanation.

Arthur continued, “I have been born and raised here. It was a poor, small town with no industry to speak of, and it had fallen behind the times. Ever since I was a child, I had one friend that was especially close to me. He was a bright boy, curious about the world. His name was Newton Belduke.”

The alchemist?!

“He had always been interested in the unique natural features of this land. There was really nothing here, but to us, this area was an exciting place worth exploring. And one day we made an astonishing discovery on the outskirts of the town. We stumbled upon the entrance to the underground caverns leading to the colossal ruins.”

None of this was explaining who and what Bezella was, but Phoenix didn’t press him on that just yet. They needed to hear the whole story from the man himself, and if necessary, he’d wait all day.

“We found ancient writings in the ruins. Newton managed to decode some of them. According to our findings, a highly advanced culture had existed on the land where our little town was built. Some great calamity had befallen the natives, and they migrated elsewhere. They believed that plants and water in that area ere cursed by an entity they called the Great Witch Bezella. The natives sealed the curse within the ruins and left in search of a new home. Regrettably, we couldn’t get any further information from the writings at the time. Needless to say, Newton and I were very excited by the discovery.”

Wait a minute…

“The curse was sealed in the ruins? Would that be the Bell of Ruin?,” Phoenix asked, and the Storyteller nodded.

“Yes. That would be it.”

“Wait, is it the bell from the bell tower?,” Maya gasped, and also got a yes.

Arthur moved on with his tale. “And so Newton began studying the indigenous plants and substances dissolved in the groundwater. On the other hand, I studied economics and management at a university in London. I dreamed of bringing prosperity to this poor, forgotten town. I wanted to change it for the better with my own hands. Meanwhile, Newton had succeeded at extracting a new anesthetic from the local plants.”

Hershel put a hand to his hat. “Was that the anesthetic which led to the foundation of Labrelum?”

“Yes. It was a huge success for Labrelum Inc. And before we knew it, we were making a fortune. We wanted the whole world to hear about our home town. Alas, fate was not kind to us, as we never realized that dream. Everyone in our town...had died. All the townspeople perished. What happened to them doesn’t really matter-”

“It does matter,” Phoenix instantly interrupted, “Because I have a feeling I know what it is.”

“Well, defender,” Arthur scoffed, “Lay it out to me.”

“The Legendary Fire,” Phoenix said.

“But- the legendary fire happened a hundred years ago!,” the judge interrupted.

“No,” Phoenix shook his head. “No, it didn’t. That’s when you were made to believe it happened – thanks to that anesthetic. In reality, it was a fire that befell this very town, this very research facility, ten years ago. No more, no less. Isn’t that right, Mr Cantabella?”

The Storyteller looked like he wanted a giant fire dragon to appear and swallow him whole, but he nodded. “Yes. Yes, that is right.” He swallowed. “The...the substance in the groundwater I was telling you about, it...it makes people fall unconscious upon hearing the sound of silver metal. This town, or rather, this area, harbors an ancient tradition. Every year, a fire festival is held to keep Bezella from returning. On one of these festivals, that silver bell in the tower sounded, and everyone lost consciousness. The uncontrolled fires spread around the town, burning it to the ground. The only survivors were Newton and I...and our daughters, Espella and...and Eve.”

So Eve is the daughter of the late alchemist, Newton Belduke, Phoenix concluded.

Arthur kneaded his hands. “Espella...I had been telling her stories about Bezella for a while now. Because a father likes to read to his children, you know? The reason she and Eve survived were because they were on top of the bell tower at the time of the fire. When she awoke, she kept telling me that it was her who’d summoned a fire dragon that had led to this tragedy, because she...she and Eve, against their permission, went to ring that bell.”

Oh, boy.

“For the longest time, I was trying to convince her that it wasn’t true. But she wouldn’t listen. It was like she wasn’t herself anymore, severely traumatized by the incident. The only way out I saw was...was to keep up the act. Pretend witches existed, and show her that Bezella was a witch other than. Newton and Eve...they helped me keep up the act.”

Eve nodded. “We did. I am ashamed we did.” She turned to Hershel. “The people making witchcraft real are the shades. From outside, they come in, ring a bell, and work the trick. That’s how were turned into a statue, for example. You and Miss Maya Fey were knocked out, and a golden version of you was carried into the room before you regained consciousness.”

Hershel nodded. “I understand…”

“But after a while, the entire act...it drove Arthur insane. He started to believe in the magic we were faking. And while it was working on Espella, for him, it accomplished the reverse. He started to believe his daughter was the root of all evil, the reason for what happened back then. Even though him and I both knew...I was the one who rang the bell. Not Espella.”

She took a deep breath. “I was too late to see it. By the time I did, he was putting witches to a fake death, believing he was working towards . I took care of them in the forest, establishing myself as their master, but remained in the mission because Espella seemed happier. More...carefree. Of course – we’d made sure that she forgot the night of the fire, Bezella...and me. But then this entire nonsense came up again, and I decided to get an outside opinion. You, Professor Layton, and your apprentice Luke.”

Phoenix rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, not to be rude, but what about us?”

“Oh, Miss Fey and you? Because of the incident on the freighter that Espella got caught up in and you defended her, I had no choice but to bring you in too. Not to worry, though, Mr Wright – you proved yourself a very valuable help.”

Was that it?

The reason why they’d spent to much time rescuing Espella from her own trauma was because her father couldn’t get a grip on himself?

It was no wonder that Newton Belduke had committed suicide – he couldn’t stand a friend who actively sought to hurt his daughter.

The courtroom was quiet once more, and the Storyteller saw his chance. “This entire town- it- it’s a research facility,” Arthur repeated, “It was meant to study the effect the groundwater as well as the anesthetic has on people. I put the drug into the ink for my stories to warp people’s memories and keep up the act. And it was meant to protect my daughter.”

“Hate to break it to you, Arthur, but I don’t think framing Espella for witchcraft in a town straight out of the 15th century equals protection,” Eve hissed, one arm protectively in front of her childhood friend.

“You were on board for the longest time!,” the man said, a hint of desperation unmistakably present in his words,

“Yes, before I knew what you were really planning!”, the former High Inquisitor explained. Hershel and Phoenix kept their heads low, not wishing to intimidate Eve in her moment of vulnerability. The woman’s voice cracked as she continued, “Had I known you wanted to harm her further rather than protect her, I would have dropped the second I’d heard of it!”

“You don’t understand,” the Storyteller attempted to defend himself, and to Phoenix, who’d made defending his life’s work, this was the weakest defense he’d ever heard.

“Oh, no, I think it’s you who doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing,” Eve hissed, “Using a research facility to research something is one thing. The entire brainwashing situation? Eh, debatable, but for Espella’s sake, I gave in. She- she did seem happier, at least the first few years. That made it worth it for me.”

Espella squeezed Eve’s lower arm, as if to signal her to give it up, to stop putting herself in the line of her father’s anger for her sake, but Eve wouldn’t hear any of it.

“Actively seeking to hurt Espella because of sheer- sheer selfishness, and rage, and regret? That’s where I draw the line. And not any line, no. That’s gotta be the fattest, clearest line you’ve ever seen, Mr Storyteller!”

The tears were prominent in Eve’s eyes, and she didn’t bother wiping them away. “Stooping as low as to stage your own death, and at your daughter’s hand, no less...where did your heart go? I think the only heartless witch in this goddamn courtroom is you!”

The gallery began whispering, but everyone sane enough could make out that the crowd was agreeing what Eve was stating.

Phoenix had a hard time wrapping his head around the entire situation. A man driven to madness due to being unable to help his only daughter overcome a trauma that he was partly responsible for creating...and deciding to make the daughter pay for what her PTSD and mental state did to him over the past years?

The lawyer had stared down countless cold-hearted criminals during his career, and while he couldn’t say for sure whether this one took the cake, Cantabella was certainly up there with Matt Engarde, Redd White, and the likes.

Jeez.

“To even think that the four foreigners I brought here were the reason your devilish plans were exposed…” Eve shuddered. “How could I have been so blind…?”

“Eve,” Espella begged, shaking her slightly, “Please, you cannot blame yourself!”

“I’m still sorry, Espella,” the woman breathed, “I wanted to protect you. That’s why we erased your memories, and I acted as if I had never seen you before. It was…” She swallowed. “It was difficult. Unbearably so. But I kept reminding myself that it was for you, and for you to heal, and I-”

“Thank you, Eve,” Espella only whispered, and seeing the smile on the blonde’s face that, for the first time in months, reached up to her eyes, Eve couldn’t help but pull her into a tight embrace as the Storyteller was taken away by his very own knight army.

After the girls had separated, Layton coughed into his hand behind the inquisitor’s bench. “For what it’s worth, Ms Belduke,” he said, “I do not think you are to blame for any of this. It saddens me to say this, but it’s abundantly clear that the feelings of despair and dissatisfaction with his own life were the reasons that led Mr Cantabella to take this course of action.”

“It’s okay, Mr Layton,” Espella said, “After the incident, we...we grew apart. I won’t miss him too terribly. Besides,” she said, holding onto Eve’s arm, “I have Eve now, and I’ve known for all my life I could trust her – be it her or the cat.”

“Espella,” Eve breathed, choking up.

A second later, the young women hugged once more, and the citizens of this odd, large research facility erupted in applause.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

They had come full circle.

As the sun rose over Labyrinthia, Hershel had led Phoenix to the bell tower – the very scene of the “crime”. It hadn’t escaped the lawyer that the archaeologist carried the Grand Grimoire with him, winking at him as if to signal that something huge was about to happen.

“The cover is a puzzle,” Hershel explained, “It took me an embarrassingly long time to deduce that, but I’d much like it if you were to solve it with me.”

Who was Phoenix to say no to such a thing?

For once, the crowd that had followed them wasn’t loud as they rearranged the symbols on the book.

In the end, they spelled out a word.

The tale’s end, huh?

Phoenix traced the golden letters on the leather cover. “The final spell,” he muttered to himself, “After all this time…”

Hershel nodded. “Yes. That here is the solution to the riddle, the very phrase we've been searching for since the very start.”

The attorney turned towards him. “So, do we like, say it simultaneously, or how does this work?”

“I'd wager we don't have to, but it would certainly add to the impact if we shouted it out at the same time. I can count down for orientation, if you wish.”

Maya, who'd apparently read their lips because otherwise there was no way she'd hear their hushed voices from downstairs, cupped her hands to form a megaphone. “You finish each other's sentences anyway! Just yell, it'll be fine!”

Phoenix's eyebrows furrowed, him getting angry at his assistant's teasing remark automatically, but somehow, he didn't mind as much as he thought. Instead, he cracked his knuckles in preparation (to which the poor professor flinched as if experiencing second-hand pain) and bopped his head towards the scholar. “Ready, Hershel?”

Hershel nodded in return. “Yes. Shall we, Phoenix?”

They stopped closer, shoulder to shoulder, and withdrew their arms. The crowd gasped in anticipation as they pointed; their most impactful and memorable point yet. And, as Maya, had predicted, their voices rang out in perfect unison.

“TAELENDE!”

The spell was lifted.

It was as if a magic mantle disappeared around the town, making way for many, many machines that were scattered around the area. Clad in pure black, the townspeople had been unable to see them – another side effect of the hallucinogenic ink.

Operating them was Luke, who had spent nearly the entire final witch trial after the professor’s appearance getting them ready for the big moment. Maya gave him a wave as the citizens stared in awe.

And the main group of four was in awe, too.

It was as if a stone dropped from their hearts; a weight lifted from their shoulders that they only now realized how heavy it had truly been. This crazy, absolutely insane adventure had finally found an end.

Espella was freed from a lifetime of trauma, Eve could freely be who she truly was, and the Storyteller would get what was coming all along. The townspeople could resume a regular life outside of the medieval era, and the shades could take off their gas masks.

The citizens was going wild, throwing hats in the air and falling into each other's arms, now knowing the secrets behind their wretched town, basking in the knowledge that none of their daughters, sisters or wives had actually perished when having been sent to the flames. It was a beautiful sight to behold, and yet, the archaeologist and the attorney had a view far more beautiful than this.

Because, well…there was one thing that had yet to be clarified for both Professor Layton and Phoenix Wright.

A puzzle with about the same difficulty as the puzzle of Labyrinthia itself, and for two men who hadn't felt this way in years and both being not exactly sure what to do with themselves, it might even be more challenging.

But, as it turned out, there was a very simple answer.

It seemed that not only were they finishing each other's sentences - they were also quite skilled in completing each other's thoughts.

Phoenix and Hershel ignored the cheering crowd as they looked at each other, both smiling widely as if the other were the sun after a long period of rain. In one swift motion, Phoenix had his arm around Hershel’s waist, the other hand cupping the back of his head. He wasn't a very bold man when it came to matters of the heart, but Hershel finished the job for him, taking hold of his tie to pull him down - and crashing their lips together on a kiss that had been on standby for the past six months.

Maya saw it first. She screamed louder than she already had been, jumping up and down as she pointed to the scene. Luke gasped and eagerly climbed on Maya’s shoulders to get a better view. The cheers and applause intensified.

When Hershel took note of their companions’ reactions from the corner of his eye, he just smiled against Phoenix’s soft lips before letting the lawyer pull him even closer.

And Hershel Layton had proven once more: Every puzzle has an answer.

But, perhaps, not every puzzle is solved alone.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Raymond, Desmond’s ever loyal butler, steered the “Bostonius” onto a field packed with red flowers that resembled poppies.

Technically, Raymond had retired following the incident with the Azran Legacy. Desmond had been too happy to let him go, guilt weighing on his shoulders for all the kind elder had endured during his time with him. But Raymond had, after a year of vacation time, knocked on Desmond’s apartment door, the key to the Bostonius in his hands, and told him that he missed going on adventures with his pseudo-son.

How could Desmond have said no?

And now, the airship situation seemed to act in their favor.

“There,” Edgeworth said, his hands folded behind his back. He’d been standing by the window for the past ten minutes as they cruised over the sea, on the outlook for islands possible to conceal anything resembling “Labyrinthia”. Whatever it looked like.

Nearly four months of endless searching and information hunting would finally come to a fruition.

Hopefully.

Gumshoe and Desmond followed the prosecutor’s pointing finger. And, indeed – there, in the distance, sat an island.

It wasn’t large. In fact, it was rather small compared to other, vacant islands they had passed on their way. The stone wall, however, was what made the striking difference.

“This appears to be a small town,” Edgeworth muttered, squinting.

“Yes,” Desmond agreed, “Surrounded by a thick forest, too. Maximum protection from any curious outsiders.”

“Unless they have an airship, pal!,” Gumshoe exclaimed, at which Desmond couldn’t suppress a smug grin.

Raymond landed the Bostonius with a gentle thump, and the moment the doors were opened, Desmond, Edgeworth and Gumshoe jumped out as if they had a spear in their backs pushing them forward.

“I’ll wait here, master,” Raymond called after them with a wave, and Desmond waved back and nodded, hoping that a signal this small would be enough for now.

They were lucky. The stone wall that enclosed the town had a gate, and that gate stood wide open, no guards of any kind in sight.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that something significant had occurred, and they were a group of geniuses, despite each of them under the belief that they were the only smart one.

They were here. They just knew that this is where their family and friends were, and just that gut feeling was enough to bring them immense relief.

“What’s with all these strange machines?,” Edgeworth asked, trying to conceal the fact that he was panting following their sprint through the entire town.

“That’s a very good question,” Desmond replied, “I’ve seen and constructed my fair share of machinery, but this seems excessive.”

“Hey pals, how about we check out the area over there?,” Gumshoe said pointing to another alleyway. Lucky for his salary, they really still hadn’t checked it out, because Miles was growing impatient. He was sure that Wright was stranded here, but there was no sign of him just yet.

Well, that was about to change.

The unlikely trio bolted onto the square, barely able to see anything due to the sheer amount of people gathered before them.

However, their view of the tower wasn’t blocked.

Desmond had to take off his glasses and wipe them clean to ensure he wasn’t making things up.

Didn’t expect that.

As politely as possible, he poked Edgeworth, who was still looking for his friend in the audience, into the arm.

“Miles.”

The prosecutor grunted, arms crossed, but redirected his squinted eyes towards Desmond. “Hm?”

Edgeworth couldn’t quite fathom why Desmond was smirking wide when he said this. “Remember when the day we met, you said that if Wright and Hershel were to be stuck in the same place, they wouldn’t get along?”

What does this have to do with anything?, Edgeworth asked himself, but decided to humor the archaeologist. “Yes. What of it?”

It became clear when Desmond, now chuckling, pointed his finger into the distance, turning Edgeworth’s attention to two figures standing on the second floor of the bell tower. Two figures who were very clearly kissing, their arms tight around one another. Two figures of which the shorter one was wearing a top hat, and the taller one’s spiky hair created for a very striking silhouette in contrast to the light blue sky and the sun shining straight against the tower from behind.

Miles nearly did a double take. “What in the world-”

He usually was a very dignified man, but even he couldn’t keep his jaw in place at the sight. The two men in the distance seemed to have run out of air, finally letting go of one another, and the crowd having gathered at the bottom of the tower erupted in applause.

“What am I looking at,” Edgeworth breathed, having found his voice again after such a shock.

“Seems like they got along just splendidly, if you ask me,” Desmond grinned.

“No kidding, pal!,” Gumshoe exclaimed, running his fingers through his greasy hair.

But this was no time to dwell on this – he had a case to clear up.

Edgeworth took a deep breath to lend his voice maximum power. “In the name of international prosecution, just what is happening here?”

He felt himself growing nervous as hundreds of pairs of eyes snapped towards him, but as always, he stood his ground.

Of course it was Wright’s voice that sounded first, loud enough even from the damned bell tower. “Edgeworth?”

“Yes.” Miles crossed his arms. “Pardon my tongue, but what the fuck is going on?”

Phoenix exchanged a glance with the professor; a glance that made Miles’ expression turn sour as if he had just bitten into a lemon. Ugh, romance. Or whatever this was.

“Guess we just kissed,” came the reply, and Miles had a hard time holding himself back from facepalming.

“I saw that,” he hissed, “And you very well know that this is not what I meant.”

“Ah, that,” Wright flushed red, scratching the back of his neck. Hershel let out a giggle that sent a weird shiver down Desmond’s spine. In his life, he couldn’t remember ever seeing his younger brother this happy. The – couple? - descended the stairs of the bell tower, figuring it would be best to talk face-to-face. “Fake medieval town. Drugs. Brainwashing. Witches. That kinda stuff.”

Edgeworth blinked. “Courtesy of who?”

“I am the sole bearer of the responsibility,” Arthur, who had been put in medieval handcuffs to witness his own trick blow up on him, said, “But who might you be?”

“Miles Edgeworth,” the prosecutor said, eyeing the man before him from top to bottom. Even his appearance was suspicious. “I happen to be a prosecutor from the United States with the permission to investigate and, if necessary, prosecute international cases.”

“Miles, I get there were drugs involved and all,” Phoenix interrupted, “But can the boring stuff wait for later? There’s a festival lined up for tonight-”

“”Boring stuff?” You’re an attorney yourself, if I may remind you!”

“Sir, please, let him have the festival,” Gumshoe pleaded, “He looks as if he hasn’t seen joy and whimsy for weeks on end.”

Eve had indeed announced one just before they’d went to cast the final spell. She felt it was a fitting end, and a fitting start to their new life.

Edgeworth sighed.

Drugs. Brainwashing. Witches.

“He probably really hasn’t,” he concluded, then scoffed. “Fine. Hold your little party. But I will see for myself that anybody innocent will get out of here as soon as possible, and that the guilty parties will face the consequences.”

“Aw, c'mon, Edgey. Don’t be so salty,” Maya grinned.

“I was looking for you, too,” Edgeworth snapped, “The two of you vanished from the face of the Earth, and if Professor Layton wasn’t so well-known in England, I likely wouldn’t have found you.”

“We,” Desmond corrected, gesturing between him, Miles and Gumshoe.

Phoenix turned to face Hershel. “You’re a local celebrity, huh?”

The man’s lips formed a thin line. “I’m afraid I am, yes. I am not sure whether I want to know what kind of rumors and speculations about me were printed in the press over the past few months.”

“If any newspaper article insulted you, I’ll see to myself that whoever’s responsible for it gets a good knuckle sandwich,” Phoenix grumbled, but no less determined.

“There’s no need for such a thing, dear,” Hershel said, “I don’t pay attention to them much. If anything, bad word will finally allow them to lay off me.”

“Now that’s something I can understand,” Edgeworth remarked, biting his tongue not to groan at the affectionate nickname, “However, I must thank the newspapers in this case. Most of them expressed concern for your well-being and were rather interested in whatever mystery you were busy solving.”

“Well, in that case,” Phoenix waved his arms as if to display the town, the weird machinery and everything else, “They’re gonna flip when they find out about Labyrinthia.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

“You believed you were a baker?”

Phoenix hated how Edgeworth looked like he was on the verge of laughter when asking that question. “It’s- yeah, it’s really dumb,”

Maya gasped, covering her mouth in realization. “Wait, that’s right! You guys saw it?!”

Gumshoe blinked, confused. “Saw what, pal?”

“It!,” Maya repeated, pressing her index fingers together as if to give them a hint. Of course, neither of the three grasped that the gesture was supposed to represent a kiss.

Luckily, Luke didn't dance around the elephant in the room. “She's asking if you saw the kiss!”

Hershel and Phoenix immediately went red, the professor pulling his hat into his face as he took note of his brother's smug expression.

“Ah,” Edgeworth deadpanned, mouth pressed into a thin line. “Yes, I'm afraid that our fragile eyes were, in fact, not shielded from such insolence.”

Now it was Phoenix’s turn to glare at the prosecutor. “Jeez, Edgeworth, don't be such a snob. I didn't consider your fragile eyes when kissing the most wonderful man in the world, my bad.”

“I was kidding, Wright,” Miles clarified.

“We did indeed see it,” Desmond mused, “Just the silhouettes, mind you, but it was unmistakable.”

“I'm going to be the victim of familial blackmailing, I feel it in my bones,” Hershel muttered, shaking his head.

Desmond theatrically clutched his chest. “I cannot believe you would think that lowly of me, little brother.”

“I don't think of you,” Hershel said, “I know you.”

“No, you don’t!”, Desmond snapped, “I was in disguise for years!”

“And I knew that disguise pretty well,” Hershel countered, and Desmond had to give him the point.

“You didn’t coincidentally bring a change of clothes for me, did you, Miles?,” Phoenix sheepishly asked his best friend, who looked at him as if Phoenix had just suggested he ride a unicorn or something.

“No? I do not engage in apartment break-ins, Wright, and I advise you don’t either.”

“Damn it,” Phoenix said, “Guess I’m gonna have to dance in my attorney’s suit.”

“You dance?”

Before Phoenix could offer a suitable reply, Eve’s voice rang out. “Attention, citizens of Labyrinthia!”

All heads were turned to her. Espella was by her side, hands folded in her lap. Phoenix didn’t know how she managed it, but she looked happy. “Last night and this morning have been revolutionary for this town,” the former High Inquisitor said, “Thanks to the help of our four foreign friends – Professor Layton, Phoenix Wright, Luke Triton and Maya Fey – the witches’ curse has finally been lifted off this town. Isn’t it a relief to know that it wasn’t a real witches’ curse after all?”

Cheering. Hats were thrown in the air. Phoenix felt like it was too early for that – Eve clearly wasn’t finished with her speech yet.

“I cannot undo the past ten years,” Eve said after the noise had died down, “And I cannot undo the ungodly amount of anguish they have caused some, if not all of you. After this, you are free to leave. I, for one, will do everything in my power to rebuild Labyrinthia and hope to breathe some fresh air into its streets. For now, however – let’s dance!”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

They were drinking tea, Desmond and Hershel. They hadn’t properly spoken to each other ever since Desmond – or rather Descole – had disappeared post the fall of the Azran Sanctuary. A few letters here and there after Desmond had reached out half a year later, but nothing more. For some odd reason, however, both brothers felt relatively comfortable talking.

Comfortable, not close.

That was quite alright.

"Hershel," Desmond said.

"Desmond," Hershel said back.

His brother rolled his eyes, and Hershel chuckled in amusement. One of the many things he regretted about not growing up with Desmond was the simple fact that they'd never had the chance to annoy one another like true siblings did.

But better late than never, correct?

"All right, I can see you're in the mood to get on my nerves with vague answers and riddles," Desmond said, "But I'm going to ask you regardless: When and how did this-" He wildly gestured between Layton and Phoenix, who was standing in the background chatting with Edgeworth and Gumshoe, "-happen?"

Desmond had been right: Hershel had originally wanted to respond with a puzzle. But his older brother looked genuinely curious and, if the professor might assume, even a little thrilled for him. He deserved an answer, especially because he had, in fact, over the years learned what had happened with Claire.

Desmond had never stated it out loud, but Hershel had an inkling he was worried.

"It- well, I cannot pinpoint an exact day or moment," Hershel replied, fiddling with the brim of his hat as he always tended to to when nervous, "It sounds rather corny, but I'm going to admit and tell you that he fascinated me from day one. I wouldn't call it love at first sight, per se, but once he broke the memory spell he and Miss Fey were under, he began to shine and it was just...a matter of time. A matter of time until I fell for his true self."

He paused, generously accepting a piece of bread with some fancy vegetable spread that Patty, who was passing around some snacks, offered to him.

"I came to terms with it in the woods," he continued, "When I was separated from the group for a week. I was concerned and, of course, attempted to find my way back to them. It was then that I realized I was thinking of Phoenix more than I was thinking of anyone else."

Desmond squinted when Phoenix approached them, his grip around the glass tightening.

Speak of the devil.

“Hey there, you two,” Phoenix said, raising a hand in sheepish greeting, “Being an introvert runs in the family, huh?”

“Yes, kind of,” Desmond sharply replied, eyes even more narrow.

Hershel playfully boxed him into the ribs. “Desmond, lighten up. This is a festivity.”

Desmond scoffed. “Not when this American attorney fellow marches up here looking like he wants something.”

“Hey, you got that right!,” Phoenix cheerfully said, “I'd like to kidnap your little brother.”

Desmond choked on his drink, glasses nearly falling from his nose. Phoenix laughed out.

“Kidnap him to the dance floor,” the lawyer added, extending his right hand with a small bow. “If you'd do me the honor, Hershel Layton?”

“With pleasure, Phoenix Wright,” Hershel replied, a light blush dusting his cheeks as he laid his own hand in Phoenix’s and stepped away from the table. He waved towards Desmond in a way that the older brother most definitely interpreted as a mockery, but the professor couldn't care less. If Desmond was capable of destroying entire towns and manipulating people, Hershel was most certainly allowed to date handsome American lawyers.

That practice under the stars had served them well. As the next song started playing, Phoenix instantly pulled the professor to his chest, hand squeezing his waist in a gentle manner. They started swaying, paying to mind to Espella and Eve snickering at them across the dance floor.

Hershel allowed himself to lean his head against Phoenix’s chest, ear against Phoenix’s thumping heart, and the lawyer’s arms encircled him tighter.

For a brief moment, they forgot the world. Nothing mattered, not the mystery they’d just solved, not their friends and family having come for them (even if that was the kindest thing both of them could have imagined). Only each other.

And Phoenix had something to say about that.

“Uhm, Hershel?”

The moment he heard that voice, the music in the background seemed to drown out completely. If only his heart wouldn't pick up speed every time Phoenix said anything at all. “Yes?,” Layton breathed, grip on Phoenix’s shoulder tightening as if sensing that he required some emotional support.

The butterflies in Phoenix’s stomach fluttered at the gesture. “I know it was kind of, uh, insinuated this whole time,” he began, “I mean- we cuddled, we kissed, we’re dancing, and- you know, all the stuff in-between.”

A soft chuckle. “You nursed me back to health, if I may add. You stayed up an entire night before a very important trial just to be there by my side.”

“Yeah, that too,” Phoenix confirmed, “I guess I just- I just want to say it.”

A questioning look, albeit knowing the Professor, Hershel already had the answer figured out before Phoenix even started this conversation. “Whatever it is, I’m listening.”

“I know you are,” Phoenix said in a soft voice, “I know you are, Hershel. You’re always listening, always there for anybody in need. And that’s one of the many, many reasons why-” He swallowed, nervousness suddenly impairing his ability to continue. Which was stupid, right? They’d done all these things he’d listed just moments prior. Surely they had meant something, and there was nothing to be afraid of.

His shoulder was squeezed again, and Hershel’s gray-blue eyes were inviting and warm.

Phoenix visibly relaxed.

“One of the many reasons why I love you,” he finished his sentence.

Hershel smiled like Phoenix had just hung the moon. “And I love you, Phoenix,” he whispered, and Phoenix felt as if he was going to implode, or explode, or both.

From sheer joy and relief, of course.

Without thinking twice, Hershel gripped the collar of Phoenix’s iconic blue attorney’s suit and pulled him down into a kiss, right then, right there in the middle of the dance floor set up in Labyrinthia’s town square.

And Phoenix kissed back, hand buried in Hershel’s silky, soft hair, pressing the smaller man closer to him.

That second kiss seemed almost better than the first, they figured, completely ignoring the thunderous applause he crowd erupted in once more.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Eve had, with the help of the former shades as well as Patty Eclaire, organized a buffet.

There was bread, tons of it, with all kinds of spreads. From jam to something involving tomatoes, there was something for everyone’s taste. There was a salad bar that almost looked out of place in a historical town of this kind, with modern spoons and bowls, but it was the atmosphere that counted. And there was a large barbecue, from which Maya and Luke wasted no time helping themselves with.

There were desserts, too. Desmond was biting into a small apple pie, handed to him by Raymond who had joined the party after having been called by his master. Gumshoe was devouring a kebab, and Edgeworth, ever so serious, was sipping on a glass of water that hopefully didn’t contain any of the stuff to make him allergic to silver.

“Unbelievable,” the prosecutor mumbled to himself, “The world renowned, intelligent, legendary Professor Layton – and Wright?”

“Hey, is that your way of saying you think I can’t pull anyone?,” Phoenix asked, feigned offense tainting his tone.

“I’d say no to spare your ego, but I don’t have the nerve to think about it at the moment, so yes, it is,” Miles replied, dusting off his sleeve. With all these torches, it was no wonder little ash particles were flying around every corner of town.

“Rude,” Phoenix scoffed, “But not like you can change anything, so…” He trailed off, biting his lower lip. Edgeworth dreaded to think what the attorney was going to say when he saw the smile forming on Phoenix’s face. “Suck it, Edgeworth.”

Good lord.

Instead of snapping back at Wright, Edgeworth chose to politely pat Layton on the back. “I wish you the best of luck, Professor.” He turned to Phoenix. "Wright, I demand an explanation."

"Why? I didn't think you were so interested in my life."

Edgeworth scoffed indignantly. "What? You're my friend, of course I'm interested!"

"Didn't seem that way when you disappeared for a year telling everyone, including me, you've died."

"I can't believe you're still rubbing salt into that wound," Miles said.

"Ah, presumed dead for months? Yes, I believe Desmond had the same idea," Hershel chimed in.

"Wait, for real?," Phoenix asked, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Indeed," Hershel confirmed, "And that was right after we had reunited following a long separation that dated back to our childhood days."

Phoenix let out a whistle. "No wonder I fell for you. You and I have so much in common."

"Speaking of that," Edgeworth interrupted, "Would you mind letting your best friend in on what transpired in Labyrinthia that caused you to kiss this man in front of hundreds of people?"

“Hey, I’m his best friend!,” Maya protested, but her cries were ignored.

"Alright, guess I'll indulge you," Phoenix relented, "Basically...you know Barnham, right?"

"No. That knight?"

Phoenix nodded. "Yeah. The guy...he used to be super into the stuff the storyteller was feeding everyone. The first time I defended Espella in court, he got pissed and proceeded to raise his sword at me. I mean, really at me. He ran across the courtroom and to this day I am confident he would have actually stabbed me if a certain gentleman hadn't stepped in and saved my life."

It didn't escape Edgeworth how Wright's mouth formed an affectionate smile at the words "certain gentleman". If he had any doubts about the legitimacy of Phoenix's feelings, it for sure had vanished by now.

"I guess it just went downhill from there. Downhill for my dignity and pride, I mean. Uphill for, well, roundabout everything else." The defense attorney wrapped an arm around Hershel's waist.

"We have to confess something," Desmond suddenly said, "When we first encountered one another and theorized whether the two of you had wound up stranded in the same place, we agreed that there was no way you would get along."

Maya snorted. "Haha! That's a good one!"

"Yes, a good one indeed," Edgeworth said, clasping Phoenix on the shoulder, "But, if anything, I am delighted."

"Wait, you approve?"

"You need my approval?"

Phoenix rolled his eyes. "No, I don't, obviously. You just seemed so...grossed out, no offense."

Edgeworth blushed out of embarrassment. "My apologies. It just seems that I have a difficult time grasping the concept of romance as a whole."

Phoenix playfully boxed his old friend in the ribs. "You're good, Miles. But, hey, thanks. Great to know I have someone to whine to when it's the dead of the night in London and I'm sitting in my LA office with no one to call because he's asleep."

Hershel raised his finger. "Ah, but I am rarely asleep before-"

"Because he's asleep," Phoenix repeated, stern gaze directed at his boyfriend, "You promised, remember?"

Even the great Professor Layton couldn't argue with that. "Yes. Yes, I suppose I did just that."

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The bed wasn't large. It had never been. It was small enough that when two people stayed in that room, they'd required another bed, and not just for privacy reasons - Maya, for example, was prone to taking up her entire sleeping space, and Phoenix would have simply fallen off his side of the bed.

But Phoenix and Hershel didn't mind. In fact, it rather pleased them, both yearning to be close to one another now that they didn't have to hide behind curtains of professionalism and fear of rejection.

Hershel took up the left side, the one facing the window. Phoenix kicked off his shoes and plopped down next to him, gesturing for the professor to scoot over and let himself be hugged.

Hershel didn't have to be asked twice.

Within seconds, he was nestled up against Phoenix’s side, his head comfortably resting against the lawyer’s chest. The sound of Phoenix’s heartbeat, tapping rhythmically against his ear, almost lulled him to sleep, but he successfully fought it off - after all, he wanted to speak to Phoenix first.

“Forgive me for being so blunt,” Hershel quietly muttered, regretting the question simply because it made Phoenix stop absentmindedly playing with his hair, “But this does mean that we're, uhm, together, correct?”

Phoenix smiled at the sheer innocence of that question. “Yeah. Yeah, of course it does.”

Hershel felt a blush rise to his cheeks - God, would that ever stop? - and nodded against Phoenix’s shirt. “I'm glad.”

Phoenix chuckled, leaning down to press a tender kiss to Hershel’s temple. “You're so goddamn cute, Hershel. This was one of the things that killed me the most. You're unfairly adorable, and at the same time the most stoic and calm person of our entire group.”

“And you, my dear, are infuriatingly handsome. It was so incredibly difficult to remain stoic and calm when a man with such a charming smile would distract me every few minutes.”

Phoenix tugged Hershel a little closer, and Hershel found himself completely melting into the hug, eyes falling shut despite the desire to continue complimenting Phoenix.

“Never in my life did I think,” he whispered, “That receiving a letter from a former student would lead me to a medieval fantasy town in which I'd meet a lawyer turned baker, and fall in love with him.”

Phoenix knew that the professor was mainly muttering to himself, but his torso exploded with warmth and affection at the statement. Hershel was in love with him. In love! Just as much as he was into him!

Cross-examining a parrot twice seemed more believable than this.

“Can I just say that you caught my eye even as a baker?,” Phoenix said.

“I did?”

“Mhm. When you and Luke waltzed into the shop, I stopped kneading for a sec because you were all I could focus on.”

“That is, ah,” Layton said, covering his red face with his palms, “Oh, dear. This-”

Phoenix chuckled again. “You just have this presence, Hershel. It's incredible. But…”

“Yes?”

“I'm very, very happy I get to love you beyond all that.”

Hershel beamed. Honestly, the man could carry the name “Phoenix” with just as much pride as Phoenix did, because his smile was like a thousand rays of sunlight. But Hershel suited him, and it rolled off Phoenix’s tongue as if it was the very word he’d been born to say one day.

“So am I, my love,” Hershel whispered, and the attorney next to him just about melted.

Phoenix pulled the blanket up, tucking it around Hershel’s shoulders, before burying his face in Layton’s curls and pressing a kiss to his head. And just like that, limbs entangled and arms around each other, they fell asleep.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The sun rose above Labyrinthia.

It was a beautiful sight to behold, truly. Sure, they’d seen the sun plenty of times during their adventure; probably just as often as they’d seen gray skies and rain. But this time, it was sort of symbolic. Symbolic for a new morning, a new era, if you will, with Eve and Espella in charge – and it was very, very obvious that they would do a much better job than Arthur had.

But unfortunately, Professor Hershel Layton, Phoenix Wright, Luke Triton and Maya Fey would not be here to see it flourish.

“The Bostonius is parked near that stable,” Desmond informed them, “Raymond is more than prepared to get us out of here.”

“The what now?,” Phoenix asked.

“The Bostonius,” Hershel said, “It’s an airship.”

Immediately, Phoenix grimaced. “Oh, ew. I don’t, uh, I don’t do heights well. Sorry.”

“Thank goodness, or the yacht I prepared would be useless,” Barnham scoffed.

“So Phoenix takes the boat, and the rest of us fly?,” Desmond asked.

“You can,” Hershel said, “But I wish to travel with Phoenix. And, no offense, I would prefer not to step foot into this airship for a good while.”

A long sigh from his older brother. “It’s been two years, but of course. You go on the boat. Anyone willing to play third wheel?”

Nobody wanted to play third wheel. However, both Edgeworth and Gumshoe were rather curious about what had transpired in Labyrinthia and would like to hear the story in full detail. Besides, Miles, who was sensitive to earthquakes, wasn’t very fond of the turbulences usually present during a flight. Maya and Luke didn’t wish to leave Layton and Phoenix’s side, and Desmond didn’t want to travel alone.

Thank god Raymond had no issue with taking care of Desmond’s beloved Bostonius by himself.

“We’re going to need a bigger boat,” Barnham muttered to himself, an exasperated look on his face. It was obvious he hadn’t accounted on having seven people to transport back to the British capital, with the search troupe having shown up spontaneously and on their own account,

“It’s fine,” Phoenix waved him off, “It’s gonna get a bit cozy, but me and Hershel can squeeze, and Luke is so tiny that it won’t make a difference.”

Barnham raised an eyebrow, but had no choice but to relent. “If you say so, Sir Blue Knight.”

“Mr Wright or Phoenix suffices,” Phoenix corrected him.

It was indeed rather cozy. Edgeworth looked severely uncomfortable stuffed into the bench’s corner, Gumshoe taking up the space next to him. Luke had made himself comfortable on the floor together with Maya, the spirit medium giggling as she unpacked a bag full of bread from Patty’s bakery, and they held a picnic right there on Barnham’s yacht, ignoring his complaints about the crumbs. Desmond was sitting next to his brother, and his brother was pulled into Phoenix’s side, the attorney’s arm firmly around the professor’s torso.

The motor roared to life, and Barnham turned around in the driver’s seat. “Everyone good to go?”

“Yep, we’re ready,” Phoenix replied, taking the liberty to speak for their entire group.

They honored the citizens of Labyrinthia with a last wave. Eve and Espella, arm in arm, waved back eagerly, and Phoenix, Hershel, Luke and Maya felt a wave of sadness overcome them.

Six months. Six months spent in that nightmarish and beautiful little town. Six months of new friendship, new knowledge, new experience, and even new love. As much as they’d gone through, as much grief and pain and fear they’d been forced to feel, none of them would ever regret this worst vacation of their lives.

In fact, they may even miss it sometimes.

But now, it was actual vacation time.

Edgeworth closed his flip phone when they were already a few miles away from Labyrinthia. Phoenix wouldn’t dare ask how in the world he got signal around here. “All right, our flight departs tomorrow from Heathrow, 3 PM sharp.”

Phoenix’s eyes bulged out of his skull. “Tomorrow?!”, he shrieked, speaking Layton’s mind, “Are you insane? I wanted to spend some time with my boyfriend!”

Edgeworth shot him an unimpressed glare. “You just had half a year with him, Wright.”

“Yeah, but maybe I’d like to go on a date without damned witches or knights or golden curses chasing us! Ever thought of that?” Phoenix pouted like an impudent child. “Besides, he’s only been my actual boyfriend for like 48 hours.”

“Could have been like three months if only the two of you weren’t such cowards,” Maya sang, “Maybe shy, adorable cowards, but cowards nonetheless.”

“Yeah, yeah, we get it, Maya,” Phoenix sighed, leaning further back into the cushions. Who knew Barnham owned such a comfortable yacht?

The lawyer shot a glance at Hershel. The man was curled up against his side, eyes half-lidded as the exhaustion from the past few months finally fully caught up to him. Smiling to himself, Phoenix tightened his arm around Layton’s shoulders, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Sleep well, honey,” he murmured. Everyone cooed.

Edgeworth rescheduled the flight.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Hershel dropped his keys onto the shelf – a sound he had not heard in six whole months.

The house on Limerston Street was just as he had left it the morning before their accidental departure, with his book lying open on the sofa and leftover pasta on the stove. He dreaded the fact that he would have to comb through his fridge in the foreseeable future, but a true gentleman would always generously support the waste disposal industry.

Luke had dragged Maya upstairs to show her the guest room, intentionally leaving Hershel and Phoenix by themselves as if sensing that the two men would appreciate some alone time. Phoenix folded the book on the sofa and plopped down.

“Damn, that feels good,” he muttered, “Finally, a civilized couch.”

Hershel chuckled. “Yes, indeed. A civilized couch.”

Phoenix patted the space next to him. “C’mon, sit down. Don’t just stand there looking all polite. This is your couch, after all.”

“Yes, of course. It’s just…” He sighed, putting his hands to his hips. “I cannot for the life of me comprehend what we have just been through. It feels like it lasted a year, but a mere day at the same time.”

“I get it,” Phoenix said as his boyfriend finally sat down next to him, instantly leaning into his side, “Reality feels so far away.”

“I cannot believe I have to teach at Gressenheller in two days,” the professor muttered, “If I am even allowed to teach.”

“If they fire you, you sue them and I’ll take your case,” Phoenix simply said, lips to Hershel’s hair. Hershel giggled at the sensation.

“I’m not sure whether that could be considered cheating or not, my dear,” he said, but Phoenix was well aware that the stoic scholar was appreciating it.

“Are we just gonna sleep here?,” Phoenix asked after a momentary silence.

“Why confine ourselves to my sofa if I have a perfectly comfortable double bed upstairs?,” Hershel replied, “There’s a fireplace, too. Anything to chase away the London rain.”

Right, the rain that was relentlessly battering against the windows.

“Lead the way, then, Professor,” Phoenix said, dramatically holding out his hand for Hershel to take. The archaeologist laughed and gripped it, pulling Phoenix onto his feet with all his power, even as Phoenix pretended to succumb to the couch’s gravity.

Eventually, they made their way to Hershel’s bedroom, and it was just as cozy as Phoenix had imagined it to be. The color palette consisted of various browns and several tones of orange, covering it all from pastel to a rich, almost reddish shade. Hershel’s double bed was neatly made – one of the professor's only habits when it came to tidiness. The professor took care of the fireplace, and soon, ember flames warmed the room as the rain intensified.

“Is it okay if I kick off my button-up?,” Phoenix sheepishly asked, “I got an undershirt, don’t worry.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Hershel instantly said, “Please, make yourself comfortable.” A faint blush dusted his cheeks. “We’re, uhm, we’re going to have to get used to that sort of thing, no?”

Phoenix grinned at the sight before unbuttoning his shirt. “I mean, we don’t gotta rush, but I’m not ashamed or anything.”

Out of courtesy, Hershel still tried to focus on anything other than the very attractive man in front of him. Phoenix removed his pants, too, and even after having seen him in merely his boxers at the lake, the view was enough to interrupt his functionality.

“Get comfy, Hersh, c’mon,” Phoenix urged, “You know I won’t bite. I’ll kiss, but I won’t bite.”

“Oh, all right,” Hershel said, convinced. He, too, changed into something more comfortable before joining his boyfriend on the double bed that, for the first time since its existence, actually hosted two people.

The journey back to London with the train from Nottingham had taken quite a bit of their time. In-between stops at a Fish & Chips booth and a tea shop, there wasn’t much time left to explore the city, and that activity would have to wait until the next day.

Thanks to Edgeworth's generosity, they now had a week to spare.

“You said you’ll kiss?,” Hershel asked after they had properly curled around each other as the world intended.

Phoenix chuckled.

It would be difficult. Long distance; not seeing each other for what might be months on end. Phoenix unable to smother Hershel in the affection he craved, and Hershel unable to pamper his boyfriend in all of his ways.

But they’d make it work. True love was worth the effort and, if there was one thing both Hershel and Phoenix were sure of, it was that what they had was one of the truest forms of love imaginable.

Phoenix tightened his arms around Hershel, leaned down and planted a loving, tender kiss against his short partner’s forehead.

“As many times as you wish.”

Notes:

NOOO LAYWRIGHT WEEK IS OVER IM SO SAD

it's been the most incredible week ever when it comes to celebrating this lovely ship, and i had great fun reading everything some of you have come up with! and i'm very glad i wrote this story - it was a very fun process and some scenes had me giggling in front of the computer as i was writing them lol.

does this story make sense? who knows. i certainly hope so, but it's not improbable i made some logic errors. oh well. hope you enjoyed it regardless!

a bit of trivia for anyone not having picked up on it: the chapters are named after tracks from the pl vs aa ost :)

i have many more fic ides for these two absolute fools, and now that this is complete, i shall pick up midnights once more. i'm existed, i miss trucy lol

again, hope you enjoyed, and see you in the next laywright fic!