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Chapter Text

An old man holds a knife in his right hand, advancing on a young man. The young man tries to escape, but ends up with his back against the wall.

“hør, jeg vil ikke skade deg,” The old man says, voice full of anger.

“Som helvete gjør du ikke det,” the young man responds. 

“Jeg vil ha hevn. Jeg vil ha hevn for det du gjorde mot henne for alle de årene siden!” The old man lunges at the younger, narrowly missing cutting his ear off.

“Jeg gjorde ingenting!” The young man yells. His eyes dart around frantically, trying to figure out how to escape.

The old man lunges again, and this time...

Slash!

The older man falls over, clutching his side. He screams in pain as the young man looks down at his own hands. They’re soaked in blood.

“Ring… 113…” the old man says as he clutches at his side. The younger man just stares at his hands in disbelief.

“Jeg… Jeg….” The young man manages, gaze transfixed on his own trembling hands.

“Gratulerer,” the old man says. “Du gjorde det igjen.”

Footsteps. Coming from outside the room. Someone heard the old man scream. 

Upon realizing what this meant, the young man runs. And runs. And runs. As fast as he can, as far away as he can. Past important buildings, dodging cars. 

He ultimately comes up to a large body of water, and without thinking, he jumps.

The last thing he feels before losing consciousness is the freezing cold of the fjords as he sinks down.

Chapter Text

May 18th

7:15am

(I don’t like being up this early. But considering what happened yesterday, sacrifices must be made.)

(I still remember that announcement on the tv, it interrupted our movie back at the hotel.)

“King Anders has been found dead in the palace. A suspect has been arrested for his murder by the name of Archibald Andersen.”

(I couldn’t believe it at the time. I still can’t believe it.)

(There’s no way Andersen could be a murderer.)

(But the Norwegian Royal Family seems to think he is.)

(And I owe Andersen my life.)

(I have to get to the bottom of this, no matter what it takes.)

My name is Samuel Godot. I am a prosecutor, as well as a defense attorney, in Los Angeles. 

I live with my husband Luke Atmey, and his cat Bat (short for battleaxe). We are very happy together.

But right now, I’m in Oslo, Norway, trying to figure out how to approach this case.

“Godot,” a red-headed man says, handing me a file. “We need to work together on this. He is my svåger. That mean brother-in-law.”

Mark Den, attorney at law. Husband of Nor Den, sister of Archibald Andersen. Mark is also the brother of a friend and former client of mine, Cally Lynn. Cally is married to my husband’s sister Rita Lynn. So, in a way, Mark is like a brother-in-law to me too. 

“I told him to be back in time for dinner last night,” a man dressed in black and white says. “And he promised he would. He lied to me. I suppose he did promise me months ago that once this reunion was over, he’d finally put his past behind him and focus on his future. I have a feeling he knew this would happen all along.”

Simon Blackquill. An old prison friend of mine, and skilled prosecutor. He was wrongfully convicted of murder and was almost executed for it. It’s only thanks to the work of a team of very skilled lawyers that he’s still alive today. He’s also in a relationship with Attorney Andersen.

“It sounds like him,” I say. “He reminds me of me, a bit. Always one step ahead of everyone else, but doesn’t know how to show it.”

“We should look at the file,” Mark says. “The case is svår.”

“Yes, let’s review the file before beginning our investigation,” I agree. We start flipping through the file on Archibald Andersen, prime suspect for the murder of King Anders.

It all started yesterday at the tail end of the Den-Andersen Family Reunion.

We were having a fun time, I got to meet my in-laws’ families, people got drunk and argued, we watched a parade.

Then, according to Simon, after they left for their hotel Andersen left to take care of something. And about two hours later an emergency broadcast was aired on the TV. The King of Norway had been murdered, and Archibald was the prime suspect.

Authorities apparently fished his unconscious body out of the fjords, so I don’t envy the cold he’s most certainly got.

“I have a recording of the TV broadcast,” Mark says, handing me a flash drive. “Straight from the website. You should hold onto this. Could be useful.”

(That’s the most words Mark has ever said to me in a row.)

“Thanks,” I say.

TV Broadcast added to the court record

“I visited Archie earlier,” Simon says. “You lot go talk to him, I’ll take care of Ariana.”

“How have you already gone to talk with him?” I ask. “Do you never sleep?”

“Don’t ask questions you know the answer to,” Simon says. “As Ariana’s legal guardian, I have to take care of her. She doesn’t need to be involved in this case. We’re going to go look around for a bit, we can rendezvous at the crime scene at around 10:30. Does that give you enough time?”

“Plenty,” I say.

“I’ll see you then,” Simon says, and he goes to find Ariana.

“Let’s go talk to Andersen, then,” I say, and Mark nods.

8:23 am

Oslo prison

“Hva er klokka?” Archie asks, and Mark looks at his watch.

“klokken er åtte tjue tre,” Mark responds. “Har du ikke klokke der inne?”

“Nei, jeg har klokke,” Archie says. “Jeg vet bare ikke spesielt hva jeg skal si.”

“While it’s great you two are getting along,” I say, “could you please translate that into a language an American defense attorney can understand?”

“Fine,” Archie says. “Talk to me then.”

>Why you were arrested 

“Why were you arrested for the murder?” I ask.

“I don’t know vat to talk about,” Archie says. “I vasn’t even there ven Anders died. I don’t understand how I could be a suspect!”

Clang!

Two psyche locks appeared in front of Archie.

“…I doubt that,” I say.

“Who’s side are you on, exactly?” Archie asks.

“What? I didn’t say anything,” I say.

(I don’t have any evidence right now to prove he was there, I’ll just have to put a pin in this line of questioning for now.)

>Why you’re in prison

“Why are you in prison instead of jail?” I ask. 

“Because I allegedly murdered the King,” Archie says. “They don’t really care about due process ven it comes to treason.”

“Clearly they do, or you wouldn’t have me,” Mark says. 

“Ja, you’re right,” Archie says. “I vant to get out of here as soon as I can.”

“I understand how you feel,” I say. “Prison is not an enjoyable place.”

“Nei, prison is wonderful,” Archie says. “I have a TV, there is good WiFi, my cell mate cooked me dinner last night. I yust miss my family.”

“What?!” I ask. “You… you’re in prison, right?”

“In Norway ve believe in treating criminals like people,” Archie says. “Prison is focused more on rehabilitation than punishment.”

“Does that actually work?” I ask.

“Ja.”

“Wow.”

“Ven I told Fjær about this, he nearly herniated,” Andersen says. “I vish more countries cared about their prisoners.”

>Mark

“Attorney Den, do you have any questions?” I ask, and the other attorney sort of just stares at me blankly.

“Den. Har du spørsmål?” Archie asks.

“Jag låter honom bara sköta det här…” Mark says.

“I understood about… half of that,” Archie says. “See, this is vy I hate speaking Norwegian sometimes. It’s close enough to Svensk to get mistaken for it, but not close enough to be able to completely understand the other language.”

“Do you two not have any common language?” I ask. “…Mark, don’t you speak scots?”

“Only a wee bit,” Mark says. “Mor and Far sent me to Sweden for skola. I was sju.”

“You don’t speak English?” Archie asks. “I thought you did.”

“I do!” Mark says. “I’m just självmedveten about my pronounciation.”

“Pronunciation, Den,” I correct.

“Ja. Exactly,” Mark says. “I’ve been studying very hard to speak to my wife! I love her lots!”

“Vell you need to speak to me if you plan on being my attorney,” Archie says.

“About that…” I say. “I was wondering if you’d allow me to defend you.”

“Hm…” Archie thinks for a moment. “How much Norwegian do you know?”

“Next to none,” I admit. “But I do owe you a favor.”

“Fjær came by earlier,” Archie says. “He offered to help in any way he could. I told him I vas flattered, but not to bother, and he left. It’s not that I don’t believe you or him could save me, you yust… don’t know the culture here.”

“I understand,” I say. “But you need a lawyer.”

“I vas originally planning on defending myself,” Archie says, “But Fjær strongarmed me into letting someone else defend me.”

“…is strongarm really the right term to be using there?” I ask, worried.

“So I decided on Mark,” Archie continues. “He’s my brother-in-law, he knows courts, and most importantly he understands how Norwegian courts work.”

“I see,” I say. “But I’m afraid I can’t accept that.”

“Yes you can,” Archie says. “You have to. Now leave me and my attorney alone.”

“Andersen,” Mark says, pushing his glasses up. “Attorney Armando and Attorney Blackquill are my assistants on this case.”

“They really don’t have to-” Archie starts, but Mark glares at him.

“You have the right to an Advokat, not a specific Advokat.”

“Fjær isn’t even a defense attorney!” Archie says. “Do you have any idea vat you’re going up against?”

>What we’re going up against

“Regicide!” Archie yells. “I’m being charged vith regicide! Two counts of regicide! The dommere vill all be in the Royal Family’s pockets! The prosecution vill stop at nothing to convict me! So I beg of you, Godot. Please. Don’t try to defend me. You’ll only look a fool.”

“Is that the only reason you don’t want me defending you?” I ask. “You didn’t kill the king, did you?”

“No! Of course not!” Archie yells. No locks. I’m not planning on testing my luck, though.

“Nor did you hire anyone to kill him, or in any other way cause him to die?” I ask.

“Vy the hell vould I try to kill him?” Archie yells. “I didn’t kill him, I didn’t hire a hitman, I didn’t attack him with intent to kill!” No locks. 

(Thank God.)

“Just covering my bases,” I say. “You can trust me, Andersen. I know what I’m doing. I solved a top-secret cult murder case after being threatened by the culprit. I can take a monarchy if needed.”

“I hope so,” Archie says. “I have vith me this, it should give you some insight into vy taking my case is a terrible idea.” He hands over several newspaper clippings.

“What are these?” I ask, trying to read them. “…I think I recognize that word…”

“Those are several avisartikler about the late queen’s death,” Archie says. “They might be of use to you.”

“Thanks,” I say. “…still can’t read them, though.”

“You have a phone, translate it yourself,” Archie scoffs.

Old Newspaper Clippings added to the court record

>Why you were arrested

(I think I have the evidence I need to break those locks.)

“So you claim to not have even been there when King Anders died,” I say, “but is that really true?”

“Ja! Of course it’s true!” Archie says. “Vat, do you think I’m guilty?”

“I think you’re lying,” I say.

“Then show me some proof I’m lying!” Archie demands.

>Present TV Broadcast

“They found you unconscious in the fjords,” I say. “You ran out of the palace.”

Crash! One lock broken.

“Fine! I vas there!” Archie says. “But I didn’t do anything to the king!”

“Really?” I cross my arms. “I doubt it. Why were you even there?”

“I don’t have to tell you that!” Archie yells.

(He’s not budging… maybe a piece of evidence in my possession would help set things straight.)

>present old newspaper clippings

“You had a meeting with the deceased king regarding the case from 15 years ago,” I say. “That’s why you were there, why you were arrested.”

Crash! The second lock broke.

“Fine!” Archie yells. “I vas there to talk vith the king about his wife’s death! Happy now?”

“No,” I say. “I still have many more questions.”

>Why you were at the palace

“So you went to the palace to talk to the king?” I ask, and Archie nods.

“I vas there to explain vat happened all those years ago vith his kone,” he says. “He… he then attacked me!”

“What?” 

“Ja! He attacked me!” Archie says again. “He had a knife! He tried to stab me! I vas yust defending myself!”

“Defending yourself?” I ask. “How?”

CLANG!

(Three locks this time. I certainly don’t have the necessary evidence to go down this line of questioning…)

“…I don’t vant to tell you,” Archie says. “Besides, you’ll find out soon enough.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, but Archie shakes his head.

“I’ve said all I can.”

“You really haven’t,” Mark says. “Andersen, you know we are on your side?”

“You shouldn’t be,” Archie says. “You should be on the truth’s side.”

“Are you saying you did it?” I ask. “Because I know you didn’t.”

“I’m saying you shouldn’t think of my view on the incident as the truth,” Archie says. “Everyone lies. Even those who shouldn’t. The jobb of an attorney is to find the truth no matter what. It’s not to trust their clients, not to trust vitnesses, but to trust in the truth.”

“A good lawyer can do both,” I say. “Both trust their clients, and understand they are human. To know that not everyone has their coffee black, sometimes they need lies to sweeten the brew. But it’s still coffee, at the end of the day, even with additions.”

“Then I believe I can trust you,” Archie says. “If you truly believe in my innocence, yet are not afraid to face my flaws, I can put my faith in you. Please. Defend me. Tell Fjær I vant his help too. Please. I don’t vant to lose my homeland.”

“I will,” I say.

“Thank you for answering our questions,” I say. “I swear on the honor of a freshly brewed mug of coffee that I will do all in my power to figure out the truth.”

“Tusen takk,” Archie says. “One last request before you go.”

“What is it?”

“Tell Ariana I love her,” Archie says.

“Will do,” I promise.

Chapter Text

9:24 am

Det kongelige slott

When we make it to the palace, Simon is already there with Ariana.

“Just in time!” He says as we approach. “How is he?”

“Well, we managed to convince him to let us take his case,” I say. “Took some persuading, and a little help from above.”

“God helped you?” Simon asks, eyebrow raised.

“More like… a guardian angel,” I say, gesturing at my breast pocket which kept Mia’s magatama safe.

“Never thought I’d ever go in a palace,” Simon says. “It’s beautiful.”

The palace is quite beautiful. 

(But the beauty is significantly dulled by the presence of all these police officers and forensics people…)

“If it weren’t for all the officers,” Ariana says, “it’d be so empty.”

“Brilliant observation there, Ari,” Simon says sarcastically. “If it weren’t for the place being full, it’d be empty!”

“I meant cause someone died here!” Ariana says with a huff.

“Hvem er du?” A teenage boy asks, approaching Ariana. He’s wearing something superficially similar to Andersen’s outfit, but it's darker and he’s wearing a hat. The color of the outfit contrasts nicely with his bright hair that’s either bright red or white. I can’t tell. 

“Jeg er Ariana,” Ariana says. “Faren min er Andersen.”

“Du er altfor vakker til å være en forræderdatter,” the boy says, eyes wide in surprise.

“I… uh… Jeg ikke forstår,” Ariana says. “Jeg snakker ikke norsk. Engelsk er morsmålet mitt.”

“I am saying you are too beautiful,” the boy says. “Your name Ariana?”

“Yes,” Ariana says. “And… thank you.”

“It is nothing,” the boy says. “I am Johan Hansen. Nice to meet you.”

“Johan?” Mark says, eyes wide. “A prince?”

“Ja,” Johan says. “I am the andre sønn of the King.”

“And… you think I’m pretty?” Ariana asks, blushing.

“Ja, veldig vakker,” Johan says. “Very beautiful.”

“Your highness,” I say, “I hate to break this sweet moment up, but we have some questions about the incident yesterday we need answered.”

“Hvem er du?” Johan asks.

“Godot,” I say, gathering from context clues what he’s asking. “I’m a defense attorney.”

“Han er en advokat," Ariana says.

“Oh! Jeg forstår,” Johan says. “Questions! Ask gone!”

“What?” I ask, confused.

“Ask gone!” Johan says. “Ask the questions!”

“Do you mean “ask away”?” Mark suggests.

“Ja!” Johan says. “Away with the questions!”

“This is going to be more difficult than I thought,” I say.

>Night of the murder

“What were you doing during the time the murder took place?” I ask.

Johan pulls out a book and flips through its pages.

“Jeg var… sleeping,” he says, closing the book. “It was late at night, I was tired.”

“Understandable,” Mark says. 

“Yesterday was an important day, correct?” I ask, and Johan nods.

“Ja!” He says excitedly. “Syettende mai! I watch barnens parad from balkongen!” 

“He’s saying he watched a parade,” Mark says. 

“Ja!” Johan says excitedly. “Parade!”

“Did anything seem… unusual during the parade?” I ask. “Was King Anders… acting suspiciously?”

“Nei,” Johan says, opening his book. “Broren min var… annoyed.” 

“Annoyed?” Simon asks. “Why was he annoyed?”

“Ah! Hvem er du?” Johan asks, eyes wide and body shaking. 

“Jeg heter Blackquill,” Simon says. “Simon Blackquill. Calm down, I won’t hurt you.”

“See-mon Black-quill?” Johan asks.

“Simon,” Simon corrects. 

“See-mon,” Johan repeats.

“Just call me Blackquill,” Simon says, and I have to stifle a laugh.

(Yeah I wouldn’t want to be called “semen” either.)

“Why was he annoyed?” Simon asks again.

“Jeg vet ikke,” Johan says. “politikk, sannsynligvis.”

“Politics are very annoying,” Mark says.

“Broren- what’s that word mean?” I ask Mark.

“Brother,” both Mark and Simon answer.

“So his brother- the crown prince- was annoyed by politics?” I ask.

“As far as Prince Johan knows, it seems,” Simon says.

“My Brother is… supposed to be here,” Johan says. “But he is apparently busy.”

“Awww, I wanted to meet the soon-to-be king,” Ariana says. 

“I might be king one day!” Johan says. “I am only femten, Jeg er fortsatt… royalty!”

“You’re 15?” Ariana asks, eyes wide. “You look 12!”

“Let’s not insult the royal family,” I say, wincing. “We’re on thin enough ice as it is.”

“Wasn’t an insult!” Ariana says hurriedly. 

>Present Archibald Andersen’s profile

“Ah! Han myrdet moren!” Johan says. “Da jeg bare var et spedbarn!”

“Angivelig,” Mark says. 

“Myrdet… what does that mean?” I ask Mark. 

“His highness is saying Andersen killed his mother,” Mark says.

“Who’s mother?” I ask. “Johan’s or Archie’s?”

“Johan’s,” Mark says. 

“English is so confusing sometimes,” I say. “I can’t imagine having to learn it at 15.”

“I… manage,” Johan says after flipping through his book.

“I was talking about Andersen,” I say.

“Åh,” Johan says. “Mener du, at han ikke er amerikaner?”

“Nei,” Mark says. “Han er like norsk som deg.”

“Umulig,” Johan says.

“…care to fill me in on what you’re talking about there?” I ask, but Mark just shakes his head.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says.

“I have a piece of… evidence!” Johan says, handing me a photo. “Det er faren min.”

(Let’s look at this photo, shall we?)

The photo is of the Royal Family. They’re standing in the very room we are standing in currently. The photo looks to only be a few days old, and everyone is smiling. The decorations in the background are very ornate, there’s a tall bookshelf, a fancy-looking desk, a large rug, and some decorative daggers on the wall. 

“Takk,” I say. “…that means thanks, right?”

“Ja!” Johan says.

Family photo added to the court record.

>The incident 15 years ago

“What do you know about Queen Ellinor’s murder?” I ask.

“Andersen put… married? Nei, det stemmer ikke…” Johan flips through his book, trying to find the word. “Aha! Poison! Andersen put poison in kardemommebollene.”

“What was that word?” I ask, taken aback. “…words? Was that one word or two?”

“One,” Mark says. “Cardamom buns.”

“That’s two words,” I say.

“What was the poison?” Ariana asks.

“Belladonna,” Johan says. “Søtvier.”

“Belladonna?” I ask. “Wow. Never pegged Archie as the theatrical type.”

“Course you never pegged him,” Simon mutters quietly, but just loud enough I can hear him. “Your name isn’t Franziska.”

“What in God’s green fuck?” I hiss back, and he just shrugs.

“Ja,” Johan says. “Belladonna.”

“How’d he get his hands on it?” I ask, and Johan shrugs.

“ikke spør meg,” he says. “Det var det avisene sa.”

“The papers said he did it,” Mark says.

(I guess that makes sense…)

>Present old newspaper clippings 

“What can you tell me about this?” I ask, but Johan shakes his head.

“Beklager, I was only et spedbarn,” he says. I look at Mark.

“He was a baby,” Mark says. 

“Right. You’re 15. The incident happened 15 years ago.”

“What does the article say?” Ariana asks. “I can’t exactly read Norwegian that well…”

“la meg se det,” Johan says. He grabs the clippings and reads them quickly. His eyes open wide. “Nei, dette er feil!”

“Wrong?” Mark asks. “How?”

Johan just shakes his head. “Jeg forstår ikke…”

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“Jeg forstår ikke!" Johan says, looking distressed. “Hvordan? Hvorfor? Hva?”

“What’s going on?” I ask again.

CLANG!

Three black locks.

(What the hell?)

Johan takes a deep breath, then looks at me.

“Away.” He says.

“What?” I ask.

“Away. Go. Leave.”

“You’re kicking us out?” I ask, and Johan nods.

“Please, at least tell us why!” Ariana says. 

“…Du,” Johan says, looking at Ariana. “Kom med meg, vær så snill.”

“She will not be going anywhere without an adult,” Mark says.

“Dette er en prins ordre,” Johan says. “Ariana. Follow.”

“…I don’t know if I should,” Ariana says. “You aren’t explaining anything to us! I know you’re a prince but that doesn’t make me trust you any more!”

“Trust…. Trust…” Johan looks through his book. “Tillit? Nei, stole.”

“Ariana, let’s just go,” Simon says. “You can’t trust royalty. I know from experience.”

“Ariana,” Johan says, handing her a slip of paper. “Please. Call later. I need to… synes.”

“…Ok,” Ariana says.

“Now be gone!” Johan says, and we leave.

“It’s interesting,” Simon says as we exit the building.

“What is?” I ask.

“The prince, he’s Norwegian,” Simon says. “But when speaking English, he doesn’t have Archie’s accent.”

“Come to think of it,” I say, “I haven’t met anyone who lives here who speaks English consistently with Norwegian phonetics.”

“There’s a simple explanation,” Ariana says, and I turn to her. “Pappa didn’t want to lose his identity so he made every conceivable part of himself tie back to his homeland. From wearing his bunad every day to sprinkling Norwegian into his speech randomly. He never wanted to lose who he was.”

“And yet,” Simon says, “The waiter at the restaurant we went to thought he was American.”

Mark looks as if he wants to add something, but then just shakes his head.

“I can’t imagine that,” I say. “Being rejected by your own community because of things outside of your control.”

I think about myself, as selfish as that sounds. About how lucky I was to be raised in a very Hispanic community. I went to a church where I saw a Mexican priest. I celebrated dia de los muertos every year. September 16th was a huge party. A lot of my school friends spoke Spanish. My heritage was celebrated and uplifted in my community. I can’t even begin to imagine what life would’ve been like without that. But that’s how Archie spent the past 15 years. That’s horrifying. No wonder he’s so obsessed with Norway. There was no-one else to share his culture with outside of a few days a year.

(No wonder he’s such a crab. He lacks that very human connection to his community. I’d hate the world too if I went through even half of what he did.)

But then I realize: I did.

(I did go through half of what he did. More than that, even. Losing loved ones, a coma, losing my identity quite literally. And I did hate the world. I even killed because of that.)

(But for better or worse, Archie isn’t me.)

(He wouldn’t go that far, right?)

(…right?)

10:45am

Bredden av Oslofjorden

(So this is where Archie jumped, is it?)

“So this is where Pappa jumped, is it?” Ariana asks.

“Evidently,” I say, motioning at the police officers peppering the scene.

“We should talk to one of the officers,” Simon suggests.

“I’ll do it!” Ariana volunteers, but Mark shakes his head.

“I speak more norsk than you.”

“Awww…” Ariana says, crossing her arms. “I wanna help!”

“There will be opportunities for you to help later,” Simon says. “For now, leave the information gathering to the professionals.”

(You aren’t a professional defense attorney, Simon. Leave the defending to Mark and I.)

“Kun autorisert personell,” one of the police officers says, approaching us. “Authorized Personnel only.”

“Vi er Andersens forsvarsteam,” Mark says, handing the officer a signed document.

(When did he get Archie’s signature on that?)

“Åh,” the officer says. “Fortsett.”

“Takk,” Mark says. He turns to me. “Lead the way.”

>Investigate odd spot on ground

“What’s this odd, splatter-shaped splotch on the ground?” I ask, and Ariana looks horrified.

“THAT'S A POOL OF BLOOD!” Ariana shrieks. “How can you not tell??”

“I can’t see red,” I say, gesturing at my visor. “Well, more accurately everything I see is red.”

“Oh,” Ariana says.

“I wonder whose blood it is?” Simon asks. “Oi, Den-dono, could you ask one of the officers who the blood belonged to?”

“I was just about to,” Mark says.

“Who do you think it could be?” Ariana asks. “What if it was the real killer’s?”

“Considering Archie left the palace alone, it would mean he’s guilty,” I say.

“How do we know he left alone?” Ariana says, determination in her voice. “Witnesses could be lying!”

“Now you’re thinking like a lawyer,” Simon says, patting her on the back. Ariana beams. “Even down to asking questions that have already been answered.”

Ariana seems to deflate. “What do you mean?”

“Security footage shows pigtails was the only one to leave the palace at the time,” Simon says.

“Where’d you get access to security footage?” I ask.

“Den-dono gave it to me,” Simon says. “Ask him.”

(There’s something odd about Mark… how does he have all this evidence seemingly ready to go when we only took this case on today?)

Security Footage added to the court record

“Andersen’s,” Mark says, returning to us.

“Huh?” I ask.

“The blood. It’s Andersen’s.”

“WHAT?” Simon yells. “Why is his blood on the ground?”

“Here’s the report done on Andersen,” Mark says, handing me a folder. “They did this when he was recovered from the water.”

“Thank you,” I say. “I’ll take a look at it.”

Health Report added to the court record.

(Let’s look over this, shall we? Luckily this is translated.)

18/05/29

Name: Archibald Andersen

Condition: Stable

Injuries: Penetrating Abdominal Trauma just below the stomach about three inches deep. Blood was found all over his chest, as well as on his hands. Contact dermatitis located on the left hand.

Taken to hospital immediately upon retrieval, then to prison following orders from Crown Prince Olav.

“Crown Prince Olav?” Simon says, looking at the report. “Isn’t he the guy Johan said was all stressed out yesterday?”

“What if he knew?” Ariana suggests. “What if he knew something was gonna happen?”

“I doubt he knew this would happen,” I dismiss. “Besides, we have a much more pressing matter.”

“The trial begins in three hours,” Mark says.

“Exactly,” I say. “We need to check in on Archie and make sure he’s- wait what do you mean three hours?”

“The Royal Family wants this case done ASAP,” Mark says. “So we should spend our time wisely.”

“We should go make sure Archie is okay,” I say, and Simon nods.

“I want to call the Prince and see what he has to say,” Ariana says.

“Let’s split up,” Mark says. “You two see Andersen. I watch Ariana.”

“Alright,” I say.

11:24am

Oslo Prison

“Pigtails!” Simon cries. “Why the bloody hell didn’t you tell me you got stabbed?”

“Hallo to you too,” Archie says.

“Are you okay?” I ask, concerned. “I’m sure we could find a way to get the trial delayed if-”

“Nei, they von’t do that,” Archie says. “The royals vant this case finished. They don’t care I’m in pain.”

“Wait a second.” I realize something. “You said earlier you were “defending yourself”. That the late king tried to stab you. But he succeeded. Does that mean you…”

(That can’t be true, right? Archie didn’t… kill the king, did he?)

“Think vat you vant,” Archie says. “All vill be revealed in the trial, I hope.”

“Since we’re here, I might as well ask something,” I say.

>Visitors

“Has anyone come in to question you?” I ask.

“Ja,” Archie says. “Some odd, long haired man who spoke in broken Norwegian. Said he vas the prosecutor.”

“Did you get his name?” Simon asks, and Archie shakes his head.

“He didn’t tell me,” Archie says. “The detective vas also there, although she seemed to vant to be anyvere else.”

“She?” I ask.

“Not detective Lynn, unfortunately,” Archie says. “Her name vas himmel, I believe. Something like that.”

“Anyone else?” I ask.

“Some yudge calling himself the “Head of the world judicial committee”,” Archie says, and I freeze.

“…what?”

“Ja, said he vas here to make sure I vas healthy enough to go to trial. Apparently I am.”

“Why is he here?” I ask, more to myself than anyone else. Simon looks at me, concerned.

“Does this mean something to you?” He asks. I shake my head.

“No. Not at all.”

(Luckily he doesn’t have the magatama…)

>Trial

“Archibald,” I say, and Archie looks at me. “The trial is today. You need to tell me everything that happened.”

“I vas stabbed,” Archie says. “I ran avay. That’s all there is to it.”

CLANG!

The locks from earlier return.

(I hope I have enough evidence now, because if I don’t I’m royally fucked.)

“I don’t believe you,” I say.

“Do you have any evidence proving I’m lying?” Archie asks.

“Do we?” Simon asks.

(…We don’t, do we?)

(*sigh*… I guess I have to invoke the Power of Trite.)

“Of course we do,” I bluff. Archie’s eyes widen.

“Then show me it!” He says.

>Present Johan Hansen’s profile

“We ran into one of the princes today,” I say. “He said you killed his mom.”

“I didn’t, technically,” Archie says.

“Technically?”

“Moren min vas the person who poisoned the cardamom bun,” Archie says. “All I did vas deliver it.”

“Actually that means you technically did kill the queen,” I say. “But that’s neither here nor there. What you told me earlier was you went to meet with the current king to discuss this case.”

“Ja,” Archie says. “Then he attacked me.”

“Did you defend yourself in any way?” I ask, and Archie nods.

“I may have punched him.”

“Really?” I ask. “Because if that were the case, a certain piece of evidence would be contradictory.”

“Vat piece of evidence?” Archie asks.

>Present health report

“I assume you used both hands to stop your wound from bleeding too much?” I ask. “If so, how would you have an extra hand to punch the king with?”

“…Do I really need to dignify that idiocy vith a response?” Archie sighs. “One hand held my wound, the other punched him.”

(Fuck. He’s right. I need to rethink this.)

>Present Family photo

“If I may present an alternative way you defended yourself,” I say, and Archie freezes. “Look at this photograph.”

“Half expected you to sing that,” Simon mutters.

“In the background, there’s a lot of fancy things.”

“Ja, selvfølgelig,” Archie says. “It’s a palace.”

“One of those things is a dagger,” I say.

CRASH! One lock down.

“And?” Archie asks. “Are you trying to say I sliced him in half?”

“No, simply that there’s more than one way to defend yourself in that room,” I say. “And pairing this with a certain other piece of evidence, we’ve got a pretty good idea of what happened.”

“Vat other evidence?” Archie asks.

>Present health report

“It says here you suffered contact dermatitis on your left hand,” I say. “Tell me, what’s your dominant hand?”

“…knulle deg,” Archie says.

CRASH! Another lock down.

“Now, presuming the daggers are replicas,” I say, “they’re likely made of stainless steel. Now. What’s one of the elements in many grades of stainless steel?”

“…iron?” Simon suggests. “But he doesn’t have an iron allergy, if he did I’d know by now.”

“Nickel,” I say. “Archie, do you have a nickel allergy?”

“…So vat if I do?” He asks. “Are you saying I grabbed the dagger by the blade? I may have depression but I’m not suicidal.”

“I know you had to grab the blade somehow,” I say. “In fact, you grabbed it when…”

>You were stabbed.

(This is it! This is what happened!)

“The king stabbed you with the dagger on the wall,” I say. “You grabbed the dagger blade and tore it out, then proceeded to stab him back! That’s what you did to defend yourself!”

CRASH! The final lock breaks.

“gratulerer,” Archie says. “You figured it out. I stabbed the king.”

“What?” Simon says, horrified. “Why the bloody hell would you do something so stupid?”

“But you didn’t kill the king?” I ask. “While you did cause serious harm, you didn’t kill him?”

“He vas alive ven I ran avay,” Archie says. “The medics came immediately. One strike alone shouldn’t have killed him. I’m sure of that.”

“I believe you,” I say. I take a look at my watch. “It’s time. The trial is soon, we need to prepare.”

“Tell Ariana I’m sorry,” Archie says. “And… I love her.”

“I will,” I say. “Simon, let’s go.”

And we leave the detention center together to go prepare for the trial in just over an hour.

Chapter Text

May 18th

1:56pm

Tingrett av Oslo

“Ready, Andersen?” I ask, and Andersen just laughs.

“I’ve been preparing for this day for 15 years,” He says. “Yust… do vat you can, ja?”

“I just hope the prosecutor can translate these documents,” I say. “I really should’ve thought twice before taking this case.”

“I told you so,” Andersen says.

Just then, Simon bursts into the room.

“Horrible news,” he says, and Andersen’s face goes white.

“Vat happened?” He asks.

“The prosecutor,” Simon says. “It’s… it’s Sad Monk.”

“Sahdmahdi?” I ask.

“Your Ex?” Andersen asks at the same time.

“I don’t think I can stay impartial here,” Simon says. “Every time I see his face I want to punch it.”

“Kjæreste.” Andersen says, looking Simon in the face. “Do you love me?”

“More than anything,” Simon responds.

“Do you believe in my innocence?” 

“Of course!”

“Then grow a pair and focus on the case!” Andersen yells. “Legalle vas a vitness in a case I took recently. She hates me, and I’m not particularly fond of her either. But I still took the case. And I won.”

“Right,” Simon says. “…Where’s Mark and your daughter?”

“Ariana said she would be in the gallery,” Andersen says. “Mark is already in the courtroom.”

“Then we better join him,” Simon says. “Godot-dono. Are you ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I say. “Let’s Olympic.”

2:00pm

“We will begin the trial of Archibald Andersen!” A familiar man says. “Defense team, are you ready?”

“Yes, we are ready,” I say. 

“Prosecution?”

“I have sent my prayer for the deceased royalty to the Holy Mother,” Sahdmahdi says after a moment of pause. “The prosecution is now ready.”

“Due to the very special nature of this case,” the familiar man says, “I, Jack Crowmack, of the World Judicial Union, will oversee this trial.” He looks directly at me, but does not waver. “I am to remain impartial, no connections that I may or may not have had with any member of this court will sway my opinion.”

“Wow. Speaking of exes…” Simon mutters, seeing the glance I’m exchanging with the judge.

(If I knew he was going to be here I definitely would’ve rethought my decision to take this case…)

An old woman next to Crowmack is whispering to an old man, and Crowmack nods.

“The two lay judges who will be joining me in overseeing this court in accordance with the Norwegian Constitution are Magnus and Erika. They are also to remain impartial.”

“Ha! upartisk min rumpa!” Andersen says. 

“Avstå fra dine utbrudd, tiltalte!” The old woman- presumably Erika- says.

“We have translators on standby for all transcriptions,” Crowmack says. “Even though the defense and prosecution speak mostly English, that will not be an issue for us judges. If at any point a translation is necessary, simply ask.”

“I have studied the Norwegian language extensively in preparation for this case,” Sahdmahdi says. “The notion that the defendant is innocent is, as they say, “Helt Texas”.”

“Du er ikke morsom!” Andersen says.

“…Just how much time have you had to prepare?” Simon says.

“The judiciary of Norway has been on this case for the past 15 years,” Sahdmahdi says. “Trying to find where the final piece of the puzzle fled to. They located Mr Andersen years ago, yet were unable to subpoena him due to him being in a coma at the time. I’ve been reading over the files occasionally for the past few months.”

“You are familiar with how Norwegian court works?” Mark asks, and Sahdmahdi nods.

“Naturally.”

“Prosecution, you will call forth your first witness,” Crowmack says.

“The detective in charge of the case,” Sahdmahdi says, “Ema Skye.”

(Skye? Why is this case full of people I know?)

A detective approaches the stand, looking very bored and quite jet lagged.

“Name and occupation for the record,” Sahdmahdi says.

“…Ema Skye,” she says. “I’m a forensic detective.”

“Why is she looking at you like she knows you?” Blackquill whispers.

“Her older sister dated Mia,” I whisper back.

“Could you please testify to the court regarding the incident that occurred?” Sahdmahdi asks.

“I mean, that’s what I was called to do,” Skye says. “Yeah.”

Witness Testimony

-preliminary findings-

King Anders was found dead at approximately midnight of the 18th. By that I mean this morning.

A full autopsy is currently underway, but from a quick glance at the body it was determined he died due to a knife wound to the side and the subsequent blood loss.

The murder weapon was a dagger found at the scene still inside the body.

The labs were unable to identify any fingerprints on the weapon.

“Here are the preliminary findings,” Sahdmahdi says, presenting a file.

“Jeg ser ingen problemer her,” Erika says. 

“Jeg er enig,” Magnus says.

Preliminary Findings added to the court record.

“Polar bear,” Sahdmahdi says, looking directly at me, “Surely you aren’t going to claim there’s a contradiction in this testimony?”

“Of course I am,” I say. “And don’t call me polar bear.”

“Then without further ado, begin your cross examination,” Crowmack says.

Cross-Examination

-preliminary findings-

>A full autopsy is currently underway, but from a quick glance at the body it was determined he died due to a knife wound to the side and the subsequent blood loss.

“Objection!” I yell.

“Don’t yell!” Crowmack says.

“Sorry, your honors,” I say. “But there’s a contradiction here!”

“Pray tell, where exactly is this contradiction?” Sahdmahdi asks.

“It was determined the late king died of blood loss, correct?” I ask Detective Skye, smirking.

“Yeah?” Skye says. She sighs, and opens up a bag of something and starts eating.

“…what are you eating?” I ask.

“Snackoos,” Skye says. “…want one?”

“…sure?” I say, and she throws one at me.

It bounces off my visor.

“Detective, please refrain from throwing things at the defense team,” Crowmack says. “And stop eating in court!”

“Sorry,” Skye sighs again. She crosses her arms, looking extremely exhausted. (She really is the spitting image of Lana sometimes.)

“The contradiction?” Sahdmahdi asks, and I’m brought back to reality.

“Right!” My smirk returns. “So you said he died of blood loss? How could that be when the knife was found still in the body?”

“Wh-” Skye says, flinching back.

“What?” Crowmack says. “Detective, how do you explain this contradiction?”

“Dude I don’t know!” Skye says. “This is just what he told me happened!”

“He?” I ask, and Skye freezes. 

“Did I say he? I meant they,” Skye says nonchalantly. “Slip of the tongue. It’s what the forensics team told me. I asked them to explain the contradiction, and they just shrugged.”

“There is a simple explanation,” Sahdmahdi says. “The king was stabbed, a majority of the bleeding happened, and then he was stabbed again.”

“Yeah!” Skye says. “See? Not a contradiction.”

“…I guess,” I say. “would you mind adding that to your testimony?”

“Fine,” Skye says.

New statement added: “The victim was stabbed, the knife removed, and stabbed again after most of the bleeding took place”

>The labs were unable to identify any fingerprints on the weapon.

“No fingerprints?” I ask, confused. “Why would that be?”

“My assumption is that the defendant wore gloves,” Skye says.

“That is the prosecution’s stand on the matter as well,” Sahdmahdi says. “As the monks say; “A fool is one who does not prepare for the worst”. To the defendant’s credit, he seems no fool.”

“That’s not saying much, coming from you,” Simon mumbles.

(Wait, gloves? Is it really possible Andersen wore gloves when the incident occurred?)

“Defense,” Crowmack says, “do you have any objections to the prosecution’s claim? Is the lack of fingerprints really that important?”

>It's very important.

“Yes, in fact it’s a contradiction,” I say. Sahdmahdi shakes his head, looking disappointed.

“I understand you have a soft spot for the boy,” he says, “but you shouldn’t let your feelings get in the way of the law.”

“I’m older than you!” Andersen yells. “Don’t call me a “boy”!”

“The only one who’s getting in the way of the law is you,” I say. “I have evidence to prove my client could not have been wearing gloves at the time!”

>present health report

“In this report, it states that my client was found with a stab wound to the stomach and blood on his hands,” I say. “It also states that something else was found on his dominant hand: contact dermatitis.”

“What?” Sahdmahdi clutches at his prayer beads in disbelief. “I was not made aware of this health report!”

Erika whispers something to Crowmack, and the judge nods. He turns to me.

“Pros- er, Defense,” he says. “We will let you go this once, but in future all evidence needs to be presented to the court prior to trial.”

“What?” I ask, confused.

“Your honors,” Mark says, and Crowmack looks at him. “I filled all the paperwork for our evidence this morning. You should’ve gotten it.”

“This health report was not in the list you provided,” Crowmack says.

“Apologies,” Mark says. “I will fill out the necessary information pertaining to the evidence as soon as possible. This report was unexpected.”

“ikke la det skje igjen,” Magnus says, and Mark nods.

“What’s this about presenting evidence before the trial?” I ask Mark, and he sighs.

“The defense is unaware of Norwegian evidence law,” Sahdmahdi says. “Much like how a polar bear is unaware of the desert. All evidence must be presented before trial begins. This is why you could never be an international attorney.”

“I’m fine with that,” I say. “Travelling for work is overrated.”

“Back to the original topic, please,” Crowmack says.

“Yes. Well.” I take a deep breath, and then exhale. “Like I said. Andersen had contact dermatitis from the nickel in the steel in the dagger. He wouldn’t have gotten that if it weren’t for touching it with his bare hands. Ergo, no gloves.”

“That makes sense,” Crowmack says.

“Jeg tror fortsatt han gjorde det,” Magnus says.

“meg også,” Erika says. 

“And is there proof there was nickel in the dagger?” Sahdmahdi asks. 

“That’s a job for the forensics team,” I say. “Detective Skye?”

“I’ll put the boys on it,” Skye says.

“And regardless of whether there was anything in the dagger that caused it,” I say, “the fact he had the rash shows he was in contact with something that caused an outbreak!”

The courtroom erupts into noise at this. I can’t understand most of anything they’re saying, but I do manage to hear a familiar sounding voice mention something about this being more fun than her cult.

(Of course she’s here, she’s everywhere…)

“Objection!” Sahdmahdi says, and the room goes quiet. “Dermatitis rashes can last for weeks. How do we know it hasn’t been there for a while?”

“I can answer that,” Simon says. “I’ve seen his hands. A lot. In many different situations. And I can say with 100% certainty that he did not have a rash before he left the hotel last night.”

“It still doesn’t prove he got it from the dagger,” Sahdmahdi says. “Besides, there were no fingerprints found anywhere on the dagger. How exactly do you explain that?”

“Det er tydelig at avtrykkene ble visket ut,” Erika says.

“Ja. The fingerprints were removed,” Magnus says.

“See? The judges have the sense to know when a contradiction is meaningless,” Sahdmahdi says. “Perhaps you should listen to them, polar bear.”

“No, you will fucking listen to me,” I say, and Sahdmahdi’s eyes go wide. “You will not be swayed by the opinions of the judges, simply by the evidence that is actually presented. If you let them get in your way you have no right to call yourself a prosecutor.”

“That is, as you Americans say, “big talk”,” Sahdmahdi says. “Tell me then, what evidence do you have to present?”

“Not evidence,” I say. “Rather, I call the accused to the stand to testify about the true nature of the stabbing!”

“What?” Crowmack says. “Pros- er, Defense, are you sure you want to do that? Having the accused testify will most likely harm your case…”

“Having him not testify would erase all hope,” I say. “Andersen fights for the truth, and so do I.”

“Very well,” Crowmack says. “Prosecutor, do you have any objections?”

“None,” Sahdmahdi says. “I will pray for your soul, polar bear.”

“Your prayers mean nothing for we share no God,” I say.

“Witness. Name and occupation,” Sahdmahdi says.

“Archibald Andersen,” Andersen says. “Attorney at law.”

“Please. Testify as to the true nature of the stabbing,” I say. 

“Fine,” Andersen says.

Witness Testimony

-Self-Defense-

I vas called to meet vith the King regarding the case 15 years ago.

He vas very aggressive the whole time.

Eventually, he became violent, and tried to attack me vith the dagger from the wall.

He had me physically cornered, and he vent for the kill.

Vell, at least he vent for the injury.

He stabbed me in the side, and I vas in so much pain I acted vithout thinking.

I grabbed the dagger from my side and attacked him.

I stabbed him once, and ran away. 

I don’t deny stabbing the king. But I don’t believe it could’ve killed him.

“So you admit it?” Sahdmahdi says. “Well, there’s nothing more to it. Let it go, defense, and move on. Your client is guilty.”

“SILENCE!” Blackquill slams his arm on the desk, glaring at the prosecutor. “No the hell he is not! It was self defense!”

“Defense, please refrain from intimidation tactics,” Crowmack says, shaking slightly.

“That wasn’t what I was doing-” Blackquill starts, but gives up. “Whatever. The point still stands. It was self defense!”

“I vas scared,” Andersen explains. “There vas no vay out of this scenario other than to get him avay by any means necessary. I only stabbed him as my last resort, a Hail Mary if you vill.”

“So you claim you killed in self defense?” Crowmack asks.

“Nei,” Andersen says. “There’s no vay the single stab vound vould kill him so quickly.”

“Well, there was blood on the dagger, correct?” Sahdmahdi says. “If your blood types aren’t the same, it could cause an immune response.”

“Yeah, but it’s such a small amount of blood,” Blackquill says. “It’s not like kjæresten min was injecting him with blood.”

“Ah, does the panda speak Norwegian?” Sahdmahdi chuckles. “He truly seems smitten with the giraffe.”

“Not very much,” Blackquill says. “But I do know this: dra til helvete og drep deg selv.”

“Please don’t say things like that in court,” Mark sighs.

(So a polar bear, a panda, and a giraffe.. Is this a courtroom or the zoo?)

“So the mouse finally speaks,” Sahdmahdi says. “Wonderful. It’s your case, Attorney Den. Why haven’t you been contributing?”

Mark remains silent.

(And a mouse? I’m sensing a theme here…)

“Prosecutor Sahdmahdi, please try and stick to the program,” Crowmack says. “We’re on a tight schedule, refrain from unnecessary banter.”

“…apologies,” Sahdmahdi says, but I notice a split second break in character as if he wasn’t expecting to get called out.

“Defense,” Crowmack says, “You may proceed with cross-examination.”

Cross-Examination

-Self Defense-

>I stabbed him once, and ran away. 

“Did you remove the dagger before running away?” I ask.

“Nei,” Andersen says. “I yust stabbed and ran as soon as I could.”

“Hold it!” Sahdmahdi says. “We can’t exactly take his words at face value, he is the suspect.”

“Can the defense see the dagger in question?” I ask.

“Yes, of course,” Sahdmahdi says.

Royal dagger added to court record.

“That’s not the dagger,” Andersen says.

“…what?” I ask, confused.

“That’s not the right dagger,” Andersen says. “The one I vas stabbed vith had a leather handle. That one is av tre.”

“Are you meaning to say that there was a second weapon?” Sahdmahdi asks.

“I’m not saying anything,” Andersen says. “That’s vat my lawyers are for.”

“There was a second dagger,” Mark says, and everyone looks at him.

“What?” I ask, confused. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“…too busy getting it tested,” Mark says. “kriminalteknik is rather busy so it won’t be ready for a while.”

“You did submit the existence of this dagger with the list you provided before the case started,” Crowmack says. “I thought you made your whole team aware of it.”

“I wasn’t sure how viktigt it was,” Mark says. “Undskyld.”

“Bloody hell, mate,” Simon says, frustration coating his words. “Way to screw us over.”

“I already apologized,” Mark says. “Leave it.”

“Is the mouse attempting to say that this dagger isn’t the murder weapon?” Sahdmahdi asks, and Mark nods.

“I would appreciate it if you called me my name, prosecutor,” Mark says. “Den eneste person, der kan sammenligne mig med et dyr, er min kone. Og du er slet ikke så strålende som hende.”

“…What did he say?” I ask Crowmack.

“…Danish, apparently,” Crowmack says.

“The bottom line is this,” I say, trying to get the case back on track. “We apparently have evidence that there was a second dagger at the scene. We don’t have the forensics results of testing it yet, so we cannot be certain that this dagger was the one that did the deed.”

“I will concede to that much,” Sahdmahdi says.

“Furthermore, it is the defense’s position that the stabbing was not the cause of death.”

“And you have evidence to the contrary, I’d assume?” Sahdmahdi asks.

“…Not yet,” I admit. “We need more time to invest-”

“We can’t just give more time for such a flimsy reason,” Crowmack says. “If you can prove there was an alternative way the king died-”

“Hold it!” Skye says, and the room stares at her.

“Detective, it is no longer your time to give testimony,” Sahdmahdi says. “Please refrain from outbursts.”

“I mean, I kinda have to interrupt,” Skye says. “There’s new evidence.”

“What-” I start.

“The-” Blackquill continues.

Mark doesn’t say anything.

(Way to ruin this, Mark)

“…We have the autopsy report,” Skye says through a mouth full of snackoos.

“No eating in the courtroom!” Crowmack says. 

“Sorry,” Skye says, unapologetically. “But yeah, the autopsy report is in. Bad news, boss.”

“I’m not your boss,” Sahdmahdi says. 

“You sign my paychecks,” Skye says.

“So that’s a conflict of interest,” Crowmack says. “Unfortunately the powers that be want this case wrapped up ASAP so I’m just gonna… ignore that.”

(At least he’s admitting it.)

Autopsy Report added to the court record.

“Wait, this is…” Sahdmahdi says, shocked.

“Let me see,” Blackquill says.

“What??” I say, looking at the report.

“It says the stabbing didn’t kill King Anders,” Blackquill says. “He was poisoned.”

“Well that settles that,” Erika says. “He’s guilty.”

“Nei, how would he poison him?” Magnus says.

“He did it once before,” Erika says. “It’s his modus operandi.”

“I think we need to hear what the lawyers have to say about this development,” Crowmack says. “I think it’s too early to make a solid decision, especially with this new evidence…”

“The prosecution insists that the defendant is guilty,” 

“And the defense insists the contrary,” I say. “This trial cannot end just yet!”

“OBYECTION!” Andersen yells, and everyone goes quiet. “Unnskyld, Jeg skal kaste opp blod om omtrent tjue sekunder”

“Hva?” Magnus asks, horrified. “Hvorfor?”

“ble knivstukket,” Andersen says. “Beklager.”

Andersen proceeds to vomit what appears to be blood at the witness stand and then promptly passes out.

The courtroom erupts into chaos.

“Oh Goddess of Justice!” Crowmack says, frightened. “Someone, get him to the hospital!”

“We should end proceedings for the day,” Mark says. 

“Yes, it would be a waste to go on without the defendant present,” Blackquill agrees.

“As the monks say,” Sahdmahdi starts, ““He who starts the fire must be there when it all burns down.” We must make sure the defendant is healthy enough to see his sentencing.”

“There is no way the monks actually say that,” Blackquill says.

“Well, due to this horrific development,” Crowmack says, “We have to suspend proceedings immediately, to resume tomorrow.”

With that, Crowmack hits the gavel, and court gets dismissed.

(I hope Archie is alright…)

Chapter Text

May 18th

8:23pm

Oslo prison

“Are you okay?” Ariana asks, as Archie appears in the room.

“Nei,” Archie says. “I’ve got internal bleeding. Doctors say I need to rest, but the trial must go on…”

“They don’t even have the bs Three Day Trial restriction here,” I say. “Absolutely asinine that they’re still forcing this trial to happen now.”

“It’s royalty,” Simon says, disdain evident in his voice. “They do whatever the hell they want and see no repercussions.”

(I think I know who he’s talking about there…)

“Ja, exactly,” Archie says. “Vell, I assume you have questions for me?”

“Yes, we do,” I say.

>Today’s trial

“That was certainly a trial today,” I say.

“Tell me about it,” Archie says. “And I vas right! The stabbing didn’t kill Anders!”

“You’d think that would prove your innocence,” I say, “but apparently the fact it was actually poison only made the judges more confident about your guilt.”

“Ja,” Archie says. “And the stakes for this trial are far more high than I thought…”

“What?” I ask.

(Is he not facing the punishment of death?)

>Stakes

“The punishment for my crimes is not vat you might imagine,” Archie says, eyebrows knit in worry. “They aren’t going to keep me locked up forever. They aren’t going to kill me either, they don’t do that in Norway.”

“Then what’s the punishment?” I ask. “It has to be especially horrific if you’re this worried.”

“…They vant to revoke my Norwegian citizenship,” Archie says. “And… essentially ban me from ever entering the country again.”

“Can they… do that?” I ask.

“THEY’RE ROYALTY THEY CAN DO VATEVER THE HELL THEY VANT!” Archie yells. “I’D PREFER THE THREAT OF DEATH!”

“You’d prefer to be dead over no longer Norwegian?” Ariana asks.

“Ja,” Archie says. “My whole life is based on my heritage. On my home. If I vere to lose it, I vould lose it. Vithout my culture, my life has no meaning.”

“…Am I not meaning enough?” Ariana asks, and suddenly I no longer want to be here. “Do I not matter to you?”

“Of course you matter to me,” Archie says quickly. “Yust… this is my identity. I love you and value our relationship more than you could ever know.”

“But if you lost citizenship, I’d take a backseat to your crisis of identity,” Ariana says.

“…Ja,” Archie says. “I’m sorry. You mean the world to me… but my identity is my world. Vithout it, I am nothing. Vithout it, I’m better off dead.”

“No you aren’t!” Simon says. “I love you! And I’ll love you even if this case goes south.”

“Do you really doubt us that much?” I ask. “Seriously. All this talk about what might happen if we lose, that only happens if we lose. Which we won’t.”

“Those who feel entitlement to a royal degree have a hard time accepting “no”,” Archie says. “…Trust me. I know from experience.”

“…What do you mean?” I ask, fearing the worst. “You don’t mean that-”

“I learned the truth of vat happened 15 years ago,” Archie says. “My mother… she really did attempt to kill the queen.”

(Oh thank goodness, I thought this was going in a far more heartbreaking direction.)

(Wait- what?)

>15 years ago

“So… you’re telling me you’re actually guilty of the murder 15 years ago?” Simon asks.

“Nei!” Archie yells. “Nei nei nei! That is not vat I’m saying!”

“Then what are you saying?” I ask.

“I vas doing research for the past 15 years,” Archie says.

“You were looking for clues, according to Simon,” I say. “Did you find anything?”

“I uncovered new evidence,” Archie says. “I found letters.”

“Letters?” I ask.

“Ja. Letters from the king. Addressed to my mother.”

“King Anders?” I ask.

“Nei, king Charles,” Archie says. “Obviously King Anders.”

“Wasn’t Ellinor the queen?” I ask, and both Simon and Archie let out the biggest sighs I’ve ever heard. 

“Not how royalty works,” Simon says. “The spouse of the reigning monarch isn’t the same level.”

“Ven the king dies, their son becomes king, not their wife becoming queen,” Archie says. 

“So… The queen was the king’s wife but not actually the queen?” I ask.

“Essentially,” Archie says. “There has never been a single Queen that ruled Norway in its entire history.”

“Wow,” Simon says. “That… checks out unfortunately.”

“This is all besides the point!” Archie says. “15 years ago, moren min gave me a cardamom bun to give to the queen. Queen Ellinor died the next day.”

“And you found letters between the King and your mom?” I ask.

“Ja,” Archie says. “Mark should have them.”

“Right here,” Mark says, handing me a stack of paper.

“They aren’t the originals,” Archie says, “They’re yust photocopies. But they are representative of vat the original letters are.”

“I took the liberty of translating them,” Mark says. 

“Thank you,” I say.

Letters added to the court record

>Present Letters

“Wow, these…” I say in disbelief, and then I start looking through the papers. “This is all so…”

“If you ever want to see your husband again,” Simon reads, “then meet me outside the courthouse at 10pm the evening of the 16th.”

“King Anders was threatening your mother?” I ask, and Archie nods.

“Moren min vas promised faren min’s release if she helped vith this scheme, it seems,” Archie says. “And I have reason to believe the scheme vas poisoning Ellinor.”

“Wait, you mean-” I start.

“It was the King’s fault?” Simon finishes.

“I don’t have any physical proof,” Archie says, “Anders vas careful not to write his plans down in a letter. But there is at the very least proof that the late King Anders vanted moren min’s help vith some kind of scheme. I yust vish I had more proof…”

“We should return to the scene of the crime,” I say. “Talk to Prince Johan. See if he’ll help us.”

“You think he’ll help you?” Archie laughs. “Oh yes. “Hallo, prins Johan. Faren din drepte sannsynligvis moren din. Kan du hjelpe oss med å bevise det?” Ja, that vill definitely go over vell.”

“Du er virkelig ligesom din søster,” Mark says.

“What about my sister?” Archie asks. “I cannot understand you.”

“Nothing,” Mark says.

“We have far more tact than that,” I say. “Well, Simon doesn’t, but I do.”

“Hey!” Simon says.

“Tomorrow we’ll talk to Prince Johan,” I say. “I suppose we also need to share this evidence with Judge Crowmack…” 

(I am not looking forward to that conversation…)

“As Kurt would say,” I say, “Uff da.”

Archie visibly cringes at that. “Never say that again, it’s condescending.”

“Isn’t it Norwegian?” I ask.

“It’s more Scandihoovian than Scandinavian,” Archie says. “In Norway ve don’t really say that.”

“The hell is scandihoovian?” Simon asks. “A Swedish horse?”

“Ask Godot’s friend,” Archie says. “I’m sure he’d give you a visual example.”

“Let’s stop insulting my best friend please,” I say. “We’ll see you tomorrow, Andersen. Before the trial.”

“Lykke til,” Archie says. “You’ll need it.”

(This case just keeps getting more and more complicated.)

Chapter Text

May 19th

10:25am

Det kongelige slott

“This is where they found the body,” I say.

“I can tell, there’s the chalk outline right there,” Simon says.

“Can you stop being a smartass for a few hours?” I ask, exasperated.

“This is so eerie,” Ariana says. “I wish Pappa was here, he’d let me hold onto his arm…”

“Want to hold my arm, Ariana?” Simon asks, but Ariana shakes her head.

“I can handle this,” Ariana says. “I don’t need to cling to someone like a little girl, I just thought I’d mention that Pappa loves me so much. That way, you guys have even more motive to help him.”

“I quite literally owe him my life,” I say. “I think that’s motive enough.”

“I do wish he was here, though,” Ariana says, her usually happy face sporting a rather dreary look. Suddenly, it changes back to cheery as she adds “Wait! I got an idea!”

“What idea would that be?” I ask, fully unsure what this could be.

“If I channel Nota, I can help with the investigation!” Ariana says. “Give me a moment-”

“I really don’t think you should-” Simon starts, but Mark interrupts.

“His Royal Highness is here,” He says, and that stops Ariana in her tracks.

“Frøken Andersen!” Johan says, approaching Ariana. “I have… a gift!”

“Huh?” Ariana asks, confused. “A… gift?”

“Ja!” Johan says. “Søsteren min told me to give to you!”

“Your sister?” Ariana asks, even more confused. “You told your sister about me?”

“Ja!” Johan says, his eyes sparkling. “Here!”

He handed over a small box of something. I couldn’t make out the words, and even if I could I wouldn’t be able to understand them as whatever it was was written in Norwegian.

“Oh!” Ariana smiles as she reads the label on whatever the box is. “Tusen takk!”

“Prince Johan,” I say, and the young boy looks at me. “Where were you on the day the king was murdered?”

“I didn’t do it!” Johan yells. “Not me! I have a… alibi!”

“I’m not saying you killed him, far from it,” I say. “I want you to be innocent.” (Honestly, if he’s guilty it’d save me a lot of trouble, but if I tell him that he won’t open up to me.)

“…Fine,” Johan says. “How do you say it again? Ask… away.”

“Wow, he's learning,” Simon says condescendingly. I elbow him to shut him up.

>Alibi

“What is your alibi?” I ask, and he pulls out a small book.

“Jeg var…” he starts, looking through the book, “…talking… Judge Crowmack. He was…” he continues flipping through pages, “busy… worried… you.”

“You were talking to Judge Crowmack?” I ask, and Johan nods. “He was worried about me?”

“Beklager,” Johan says. “Morsmålet mitt er norsk, ikke engelsk.”

“Can I see your book?” I ask, and he hands it over. It’s a Norwegian-English dictionary. (So this is what he’s been using to understand what we say.) I look for the word I want to say, and try to pronounce the Norwegian equivalent. “…becky…mret?”

“Bekymret,” Johan corrects me. “Ja. Han var veldig bekymret.”

“Veldig means very, right?” I ask Simon. 

“Yeah,” he says. “So, “very worried”.”

“Wow,” I say. “…I wish we had someone who could translate everything quicker…”

“I could try calling Pigtails,” Simon suggests. “He could translate Prince Johan’s words for us.”

“That would be great,” I say.

“I could do that too,” Mark says, but Simon was already dialing. 

“I’m gonna be honest, I forgot you were there,” I say.

“Fair enough,” Mark says. “Call Andersen.”

>Judge Crowmack

“So you said you were speaking with Judge Crowmack at the time?” I ask. Andersen translates what I said into Norwegian, and Johan nods. “What exactly were you two talking about?”

“Well, it was just after a meeting of the Council of State,” Johan says in Norwegian, Andersen translating it for me. “Normally they’re on Fridays, but this time was an exception. I was waiting outside the room, and Judge Crowmack left first.”

“Why was he there?” I ask. “He isn’t part of the Council of… whatever, is he?”

“No,” Johan says. “He was there observing as part of one of his duties as head of the World Judicial Union.”

“And when he came outside, you spoke with him?” I ask.

“Yes,” Johan says. “We talked about a lot of things. One of which was you.”

“Me?” I ask. “Why?”

“He said he didn’t want you getting involved with something important,” Johan says. “He had a bad feeling about that night, that something might happen.”

“So he suspected something was gonna go down?” Ariana asks, and Johan nods. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Johan says. “You should talk to him instead.”

(I really don’t want to…)

“Then that should be one of our stops!” Ariana says. “Talk to his honor!”

“That was already the plan,” Simon says. “Do keep up, will you?” Johan shoots him a nasty look. “…what?”

Johan just scoffs. “Is that all?” He asks. I shake my head.

>Present letters

“I can’t read,” Johan says.

“Oh,” I say. (I forgot these were translated)

“I have the untranslated copies,” Mark says, handing some papers over to Johan.

“How do you just have everything we need?” I ask Mark.

“Not important,” Mark says.

CLANG!

Five locks appear in front of him.

(Wh-what?)

I’m not given a chance to think about the locks, as Johan reads the letters and starts to cry.

“Your highness!” Ariana says. “What’s wrong?”

“Hvorfor?” He asks.

“Huh?” Ariana asks.

“Andersen, what is he saying?” I ask.

“Why?” Archie replies.

“Because I want to know.”

“Nei, that’s vat he’s saying!”

“What?”

“No, Why!”

“Whatever,” I sigh.

“Why are you doing this to me?" Johan asks. "He died two days ago! And now, he... he..."

(I completely forgot he’s dealing with his father being dead. And I just gave him evidence his father was a bad person. This is why I don’t have kids.)

“I’m so sorry your highness,” Ariana says, and she hugs him.

“Ariana don’t-” Simon says, but to everyone’s surprise Johan hugs back.

“Faren min døde i fjor,” Ariana says. “De ble myrdet. Jeg forstår hvordan du føler deg.”

“I’m not translating this,” Archie says. “It’s very personal.”

“Hva?” Johan says, letting go and looking at Ariana, puzzled. “Faren din er Andersen, nei?”

“Jeg er adoptert,” Ariana says.

“What are they saying?” Simon loudly whispers to Mark.

“They’re bonding over dead fathers,” Mark whispers back.

“Your highness,” I say, and Johan looks back at me. “I apologize for my lack of tact.”

“Told you,” Archie says.

“Shut up,” I say.

“Tact?” Johan asks, confused. “Hva?”

“I was insensitive,” I say, and he seems to understand. “But we need information. So I’d appreciate it if you could tell us what you know.”

“…Ok,” Johan says, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. “Where should we start?”

“Let’s look around,” Mark says. “We need to do actual investigation.”

“Can I hang up now?” Archie says. “I’m late for my cooking class.”

“You have cooking classes in prison?” Simon asks, and I too feel a twinge of jealousy.

“I can translate from here on out,” Mark says.

“Love you babe,” Simon says, hanging up. “Okay, let’s investigate.”

>Examine body outline

“I can’t believe it,” Johan says. “He vas alive just days ago… but now…”

“Judging by the position of the outline,” I say, “His body was probably moved in some way after death.”

“How can you tell?” Johan asks.

“Look at the bloodstain,” I say. “Imagine someone lying in that outline.”

“…I don’t want to imagine my Father’s corpse,” Johan says.

“Then pick someone you don’t like,” I say. “Just imagine a body there.”

“I am imagining the large devil worshiper in the black and white,” Johan says.

“…What?”

Johan points to Simon. I can’t help but laugh.

“Hey!” Simon says. “I’m an atheist, I’ll have you know!”

“Now imagine the blood is under them,” I tell Johan. Now, if that were the case, where would the wound be?”

“Middle of the chest,” Johan says. “Oh!”

“Exactly,” I say. “That’s not where the king was stabbed, was it?”

“No!” Johan says. “So the body was moved!”

Body location data added to the court record

>Investigate tapestry on wall

“What’s that?” I ask, and Johan’s eyes light up.

“That’s the royal crest!” He says. “It’s got a lion holding an axe!”

“…Why?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” Johan says. “But it looks cool!”

(Something feels off about this room, but I just can’t put my finger on it… perhaps I should re-examine my evidence and present something to His Highness…)

>present family photo

“This room… it isn’t the right room.”

“What do you mean?” Johan asks.

I gesture at the photo. “See the daggers on the wall?” I say. “Where would they be in this room?”

“I… I don’t know,” Johan says. “There isn’t a display in here.”

“So this isn’t the right room,” I say. “The murder didn’t happen in here.”

“But it did!” Johan says. “My brother said it did!”

“Your brother?” I ask, and Johan nods. “Is he an authority on this subject?”

“Yes!” Johan says, beaming with pride. “He’s head of the forensics department within Oslo police!”

“Where could we find him?” I ask.

“He’s been very busy since father passed,” Johan says. “I could try calling him, but he probably won’t pick up.”

“Is he the head of this investigation?” I ask, and Johan nods.

“Yes. He’s providing evidence to the judges.”

“Then if I talked to the judges, I could get the evidence he found?” I ask.

“Yes,” Johan says. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say. “But this inconsistency is troubling.”

“Let’s look around for some kinda explanation!” Ariana says.

>Investigate locked door

“What about this door?” Ariana asks. I try opening it.

“It’s locked,” I say.

“Really?” Simon says. “Let me see.” He tries turning the knob. It doesn’t open. “Huh, it’s locked.”

“Your highness,” Mark asks, “do you have a key to open this door?”

“Yes,” Johan says. “It’s in my room. I’ll go get it!”

“Before you go,” I say, “I just have one question.”

“I might have an answer!” Johan says. “Just… please don’t give me more letters…”

>King Anders before death

“Was the king acting suspiciously before he died?” I ask. “For example, drastic mood changes, personality changes, anything like that?”

“Well, I think he was talking about being in pain,” Johan says. “But we figured he was just tired. Olav was very concerned and was doing all he could to help him. Maybe that why he was so stressed.”

“What kind of pain?” I ask. “It might be related to his poisoning!”

“But this was hours before his death!” Johan says. “How would that matter?”

“Some poisons take a while to kill,” I say. “In my case, it took effect immediately but doctors were able to stop it before it killed me.”

(Not before it took my vision, hair color, and put me in a coma first, however…)

“You were poisoned?” Mark asks, actually showing emotion.

“Let’s not talk about that right now,” I say. “What I’m getting at is many poisons don’t kill right away. If this was something more slow acting, it could’ve taken days for it to kill.”

“According to the autopsy report,” Mark says, “it was arsenic poisoning. That can take a few hours to a few days to kill.”

“So… wait,” I say. “If it takes a while to kill, why is Andersen still a suspect? He only met with the king that night!”

“King Anders’s body was found at midnight,” Mark says. “But the time of death is unclear. And considering Andersen left the hotel at around 6pm…”

“Ah,” I say. “But if King Anders was already feeling the effects of the poison during the day, then it couldn’t have been Andersen!”

“Pappa is innocent!” Ariana says. “I knew it!”

“This shaky testimony won’t hold up in court,” Mark says. “We don’t have any evidence. Prince Johan himself doesn’t even seem that sure of his words.”

“Sorry,” Johan says. “He was also getting old, he was in his late 60s. It could’ve been an old man thing.”

(My father is in his mid 70s and he isn’t constantly complaining about pain, I doubt it was just “an old man thing”)

“Any other questions before I go get the key?” Johan asks. I shake my head. Johan leaves.

“Okay, we’re all on the same page that it’s definitely not Johan, right?” Ariana asks.

None of us answer either way.

“Seriously?” She asks, and she groans in frustration. “Did you see him? There’s no way it could’ve been him! He’s too kind!”

“You don’t know him, Ari,” Simon says. “He’s a suspect, he definitely had the opportunity to slip his father something.”

“It’s highly unlikely that the prince poisoned his father,” Mark says. “He doesn’t seem to have a motive. But we cannot definitively confirm one way or the other his innocence.”

“I doubt his father’s spirit would be looking over him if Johan killed him,” Ariana mumbles.

(Oh that’s right. Ariana is Maya’s cousin and a spirit medium as well.)

“Since when were you and the prince on a first name basis?” I ask, and Ariana freezes.

“Uh… I just don’t like calling people by their last names,” she says. 

“You’re hiding something, little miss,” I say.

“So what if I am?” Ariana asks. “It’s not relevant to the case, and you’re not my lawyer, so I don’t have to tell you anything!”

(No psyche locks, so either she’s secretly Luke Atmey or she’s telling the truth here)

“We have company,” Mark says, and I turn around to see a tall man standing stiff as a board. He looks to be in his mid to late 20s, and he’s sporting a similar outfit to Johan’s, with the addition of several medals that appear to be of the military variety.

“Greetings,” the man says. “My name is Olav Hansen, crown prince.”

“It’s an honor to meet you, your highness!” Ariana says, bowing.

“My name is Godot. I am part of Archibald Andersen’s defense team,” I say, bowing as well. “I would like to ask you a few questions about-”

“Du er en utlending,” Olav says, putting far too much emphasis on the last word for me to think it’s anything but an insult.

“I would like to ask you a few questions about-” I start, but he interrupts again.

“That girl, does she need to be here?” He asks. “This is a crime scene. It’s not for the faint of heart.”

“I’ve seen worse,” Ariana says. “Thank you for worrying about me, your highness.”

“She is… assisting,” I say.

“She should go play with my brother outside,” Olav says. “A crime scene is no place for children.”

“I can handle this,” Ariana says. “And Prince Johan was here recently, in fact he’s just going to get something right now!”

“Did he tell you what he’s retrieving?” Olav asks.

“A key to unlock that door over there,” I say. “Now please, i understand you are in charge of the forensics team that is investigating this case, could you-”

“That door?” Olav asks, pointing to the locked door.

“Yes,” I say.

“Ah,” Olav says. “I have already investigated that room. There is nothing of interest there.”

“Then could you please share with us your findings about-”

“I’m back!” Johan says, and his eyes go wide when he sees Olav. “Bror! Hvor har du vært i hele dag?”

Johan runs to hug his older brother, but Olav holds a hand out to stop him.

“Ikke rør meg,” he says. 

“Did you find the key?” Ariana asks, and Johan nods. “Great! Then let’s go look in the other room!”

“Before we do,” I say, “Your highness, Prince Olav, I'd like to know about any info your team has about fingerprints or bloodstains or anything that could be useful to our case,” I say.

“…Here,” Olav says, handing me a file I hadn’t realized he was carrying. “The results for the blood tests, as well as fingerprints on the two daggers found at the scene. There’s all the information I’m allowed to give at this time.”

“Aren’t you the lead of the investigation?” I ask. “Can’t you give us all the information?”

“That’s all that’s been proven relevant,” Olav says. “…It’s heartbreaking, what happened to my father. But I can’t exactly say it was unexpected.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, and Olav shakes his head.

“I’m afraid I can’t share anything more with you,” he says. “Closely guarded family secrets. Not even Johan knows what father did in his day.”

(So there’s family drama involved… interesting…)

“Well, I have other duties to attend to,” Olav says. He nods his head, and very purposefully and carefully makes his way out of the room.

(Something about the way he walks is unnerving, like he’s trying to move as little as possible)

“Here’s the key!” Johan says, handing over a small golden key.

Room Key added to the court record

>investigate locked door

“Let’s see if the key fits,” Simon says, and he tries to unlock the door. It works, and the door swings open. We take a step into the room, and we are met with horror.

“What the-” I say, as I see the scene before me.

Blood. Blood on the ground. A trail from one end of the room to the door. Things thrown about like there was some sort of fight. And most importantly, two daggers missing from a display.

“AHHH!” Ariana screams, and she runs back into the other room.

“This… this is where the murder definitely happened,” Simon says. “I mean, look at all of this. Look at all the blood.”

“We should get it tested to see who it belongs to,” I say, but I’m interrupted by Johan.

“Um… Olav already tested the blood,” He says. “It’s fathers.”

“Really?” I ask, and Johan nods. “Oh, right, we have the results of blood tests in this folder.”

I try to look at the folder.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” I sigh. “What kind of official documents use red ink nowadays?”

“Apparently Norwegian ones,” Simon says, taking the folder. “So it appears that the blood found on the leather handled dagger was a mix of  Archibald’s and Anders’s. They didn’t find any fingerprints on it, however.”

“That’s consistent with the wooden dagger,” I say. “…If only Ema was here. She’d do the tests herself right here to double check that everything was correct.”

“Ah, Detective Skye,” Mark says, taking a turn looking through the folder. “I had her run the tests on the dagger I found and the dagger presented in court, and her results aren’t consistent with the ones in this folder.”

“What?” I ask. “What do you mean?”

“The second person’s blood was different, on the leather handled dagger,” Mark says. “She couldn’t figure out whose blood it was.”

“Interesting,” I say. “Could it be due to human error?”

“That’s what she figured,” Mark says. “If you want, you can have a copy of the report I got from her.”

Ema’s Report added to the court record, just in case.

“So, this room is definitely where the crime took place,” I say. 

“And there may be some kind of inconsistency in the testing,” Simon says.

“…so what does this mean?” Ariana asks.

“I… I’m not sure,” I say. “We should talk to His Honor about this. That will be our next stop.”

“Alright!” Ariana says, smiling.

“Um… Ariana,” Johan says, and Ariana turns around. “You are leaving?”

“Yeah,” Ariana says. “We’re gonna go talk to the judge guy.”

“Finnes det noen måte jeg kan overtale deg til å bli?” He asks. “Vær så snill?”

“Nei,” Ariana says. “Ha det bra, Johan.”

“…Ring meg, vær så snill,” Johan says, and Ariana nods.

“I’m truly sorry for your loss, your highness,” Ariana says.

“det samme til deg,” he says.

“…what was that about?” Simon asks as we leave the palace.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” Ariana says. “Let’s go see His Honor!”

Chapter Text

11:45am

Council of state meeting room

A man with blond hair dressed in white and purple approaches us as soon as we step in the room.

(Oh great. He looks pissed.)

“What the heck is your problem?” Crowmack says.

“Good afternoon to you too,” I say.

“Oh don’t pull that crap with me, Diego,” Crowmack hisses. “What’s your problem? Why are you getting involved in this case? Don’t you know it’s better to leave well enough alone?”

“Don’t “Diego” me, Crowmack Jr,” I say, and the man seems to shrink at that. “I could ask you the same question.”

“Well unlike you, international cases are my job,” Crowmack says. “You aren’t even a defense attorney-”

“I’ve been a defense attorney for over a decade,” I say. “Closing on two, in fact.”

“Oi, can you two maybe settle your relationship problems some other time?” Simon says. “Like, perhaps, when the fate of my boyfriend doesn’t rest on our backs?”

“You two are acting like children,” Mark says. “Stop it.”

“You wouldn’t understand,” I say. “It’s impossible to have a mature conversation with Crowmack.”

“Hah! Of course you’d say that!” Crowmack crosses his arms and glares at me. 

“I really shouldn’t get involved in this drama,” Simon sighs. “But I suppose I’ve no other choice…”

>Crowmack and Godot

“Lay it on me,” Simon says. “What is your problem?”

“Jack and I dated about a decade ago,” I say. 

“More like you used me to feel something,” Crowmack scoffs. 

“And so what if I did?” I ask. “It was a decade ago. You’re married now, and you have a child. No need to still be so bitter.”

“Getting in a relationship just to feel something is pretty messed up,” Simon says. “I’ve gotta agree with His Honor about that.”

“Oh what would you know about that?” I ask.

“Sad Monk,” Simon says.

“That’s different,” I say. “Unlike him, I actually did love Crowmack.”

“Certainly didn’t feel like it when you left suddenly in the middle of the night and never returned,” Crowmack says.

“Oh I’m definitely on his side now,” Simon tells me. “Sad Monk at least had a mature conversation with me about things.”

“I was only staying in England for the Judicial Olympics,” I try to explain. “I had to leave at some point.”

“You could’ve at least said goodbye!” Crowmack says. “I really did love you! You were the first person to really make me realize my potential, and who would treat me like a man rather than just Jack Crowmack Jr.”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” I say. “We came here to give you evidence-”

“Keep going,” Simon says. “I’m invested at this point. Besides, I want to have something interesting to tell my sister when I visit her next.”

“I’d prefer if you didn’t go around spreading gossip about my love life,” I sigh.

“Not without information in return,” Crowmack says, and  my eyes go wide.

“Seriously?” I ask, and Crowmack smiles.

“Gossip is kinda my vice,” he says, chuckling sheepishly. “You hear all kinds of stories when you have my line of work…”

“What kind of information?” Simon asks.

“What’s up with you and the prosecutor?” Crowmack asks. “I can remain impartial in court when Godot presents his findings, but you clearly can’t when Prosecutor Sahdmahdi speaks. What’s your history?”

“First, tell me why you two are still so bitchy with each other,” Simon says.

“Fine,” Crowmack says.

>Bitchiness

“So after he abandoned me,” Crowmack says, “I tried to contact him. It was really difficult however because Godot wasn’t even his real name. Eventually, I managed to find him but by then he was in prison for murder.”

“And even after I explained what had happened during the trial regarding my crimes,” I say, “Crowmack still had to get up on his high horse and say “I can’t date a murderer, we’re over”. Which was odd, as we had been “over” for months at that point.”

“Not officially in my eyes,” Crowmack says. 

“Whatever.”

“So eventually I find new love and get married,” Crowmack says. “We adopt a beautiful girl. Everything is great. But even with my new life, I can’t help but be worried for Godot in the back of my mind.”

“I bet your husband really loved that,” I say sarcastically. “Hi dear husband of mine. Unfortunately I’m still madly in love with my ex-”

“I wasn’t in love with you!” Crowmack interrupts. “I’m not in love with you! But I care about you! A lot! I can’t help it!”

“You’ve got a weird way of showing it,” I say.

“That’s why I was so upset when I saw you at the reunion,” Crowmack says. “Because if you were here, then that means you’d definitely try and get involved with the trial. And if you got involved in the trial, you’d end up involved in an international incident. And if that happened, you would get hurt.”

“I’m in my damn 40s I don’t need you worrying about me,” I say.

“Wait, why were you worried about the trial?” Simon asks. “When we saw you at the reunion, the king wasn’t dead yet.”

“O-oh!” Crowmack fidgeted nervously. “R-right. I just… had a feeling something bad was going to happen.”

Clang!

Three locks.

(…What could he be hiding? What does this inconsistency mean?)

“That’s mighty suspicious,” I say. “Why’d you think something bad was going to happen? What did you know?”

“I don’t know anything!” Crowmack says. “I didn’t have anything to do with the murder! And I don’t have to tell you anything!”

(Do I have enough evidence to break these locks?)

>Simon

“There, I gave you your information,” Crowmack says. “Now, you give me information in return.”

“Nahyuta Sahdmahdi strung me along for two months thinking I had a chance with him before “suddenly realizing” he was aroace,” Simon says. “Simple as that.”

“Really?” Crowmack asks, confused. “That’s not what he said happened.”

“History is written by the winners,” Simon says.

“What did Sahdmahdi say?” I ask, now invested.

“He told me that Blackquill was being overly assertive and aggressive their whole relationship,” Crowmack says. “That while nothing physical happened, he could tell Blackquill really wanted it to. I wasn’t sure if he meant abuse or more explicit things…”

“Explicit,” Simon says. “I’d never abuse my partner.”

“You were dating a monk and got upset he didn’t want sex?” I ask. “What did you expect?”

“I thought he was gonna drop the whole monk thing after Queen Ga’ran got overthrown,” Simon says. “But nope. Still as stuck up and pious as ever.”

(And you thought I was bad…)

“Religion doesn’t just change in the blink of an eye,” Crowmack says. “The more you challenge their beliefs, the harder they cling onto them. Humans are stubborn.”

“You follow the teachings of the Goddess of Justice, right?” I ask, and Crowmack nods. “Isn’t that basically Christianity but God is a woman?”

“It is not!” Crowmack says, brandishing a gavel in my direction. “It’s more of a spiritual experience than a religion.”

“Let’s stop talking about religion,” Simon says. “We have better things to do than deal with delusions.”

“Religion isn't a delusion!” Crowmack yells. “How dare you!”

“You’re right, my bad,” Simon says with a smirk. “It’s a cult.”

“Simon, stop,” I say, my face in my hands. (This is going horribly. I need to steer the topic away, and fast.)

“It’s true,” Simon says. “Religion controls how you act, how you feel, what you can be, what you like-”

“You and Prosecutor Sahdmahdi broke up because of religion and also him being aroace,” I say. “Okay, I’ve learned all I needed to know about them. Are you satisfied, Crowmack? Can I share my evidence now?”

“I just have one more question for him,” Crowmack says.

“Hit me,” Simon says.

>Crowmack’s question

“If you wanted intimacy, why’d you date a monk?” Crowmack asks. “They aren’t exactly known for being very… romantic.”

“Like I said, I thought it was a phase,” Simon says. “I didn’t think he actually believed everything that weird religion of his preached.”

“One doesn’t just become a monk because of a phase,” I say. “It’s a serious commitment.”

“You can be committed to a phase even after it passes,” Simon says. “It’s called the sunk-cost fallacy.”

“So… you dated him because you wanted to… sleep with him?” Crowmack asks.

“That’s usually why I date people,” Simon says.

“Don’t tell your boyfriend,” I say. “I’m not sure he’d like being used like that.”

“I said usually, not always,” Simon says. “I love Andersen-dono more than anyone else I’ve ever loved. From the moment I saw Lynn-dono punch him I knew he was mine.”

“How… romantic,” Crowmack says. “I’ve heard enough, please just share with me your evidence.”

“Gladly,” I say.

>New evidence 

“We got new evidence,” I say, presenting our findings. “It’s a bit odd presenting it all before a trial, but I suppose that’s just how it works here.”

“Why do you have two copies of the same blood analysis?” Crowmack asks, looking at the analysis of the daggers.

“One is from the forensics team in charge of this case,” I explain, “and the other was done by Ema Skye.”

“Detective Skye made an error, it seems,” Crowmack says. “I’m afraid we can’t accept that report into evidence.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Because the blood doesn’t match,” Crowmack says. “She made an error.”

“Are we sure it was an error?” I ask, and  Crowmack’s eyes go wide. “Perhaps the local police made the error. If Ema is anything like her sister she doesn’t err habitually.”

“W-well,” Crowmack says, “He told me there would likely be falsified evidence to make Attorney Andersen try to look good-”

“Who’s “he”?” I ask.

CLANG!

Three locks.

(Do I have the necessary evidence to break these?)

(…I’ll at least try…)

>Present magatama

“Crowmack,” I say, looking the man right in the eyes. “You need to be honest with me.”

“I’m telling you everything I can!” Crowmack says. His eyebrows are knit in worry, his eyes are wide, and he’s clutching a little silver gavel pendant he wears around his neck.

“No, you aren’t,” Simon says.

Crowmack’s eyes dart to Mark, who just shakes his head.

(Interesting. He assumed Mark would be on his side…)

>Leverage authority 

“You’re the chairman of the World Judicial Union,” I say. “You are in control of your own life. You have immense power. You are not Crowmack Jr, you are Jack Crowmack. You don’t need to follow rules, you make the rules. Tell us what you’re hiding.”

Crash!

One lock breaks.

“I… I suppose I can tell you a few more things,” Crowmack says. “I helped plan the reunion, for one. Attorney Den can attest to that. He reached out to me late last year with an idea, and I helped with some of the logistics.”

“Why did you help set it up?” I ask. “What exactly was the plan?”

“Well, my husband talks very highly of his family,” Crowmack says. “I wanted to meet them all, you see.”

(Really? Was that all this was? Just a desire to meet his in-laws?)

“I think there’s a very specific reason you decided to help,” I say. 

“Oh really?” Crowmack asks. “Tell me then. Why did I help, if not for love of my family?”

>Present Archibald Andersen’s profile

“You wanted to talk to him,” I say.

“Why on earth would I want to talk to him?” Crowmack asks. “I mean, not that he’s horrible to talk to, but I mean-”

“Good question,” I say. “I think we can ask Mark about that.”

“What?” Mark asks, confused. “Why are you dragging me into this?”

“Please, he has nothing to do with this,” Crowmack says. “Just leave him alone!”

(Struck a nerve, eh?)

“Why can’t I question Mark?” I ask. “He’s the lawyer in charge of this case, is he not?”

“I know,” Crowmack says. “But that doesn’t mean he’s involved in everything else-”

“Everything else?” I ask, and Crowmack’s eyes go wide.

Crash!

Another lock down.

(We’re getting somewhere… I think.)

“You said Mark approached you last year with ideas for a reunion,” I say. “Did this ever come up in discussions?”

>Present Newspaper clippings

“Ah!” Crowmack says. “I mean, it was going to happen on the 15 year anniversary of that horrible incident, so naturally that would come up.”

“Any particular reason that date was chosen for the reunion?” I ask.

“It’s Norway’s national day,” Crowmack says. “Mark’s wife is Norwegian. He wanted to celebrate her heritage.”

“And the location chosen was Oslo because it’s the capital, I’m assuming?” I ask, and Crowmack nods.

“Mark came up with location, theme, decor, catering…” Crowmack says. “So I’d suggest you ask him.”

(I most certainly will.)

(…Still one lock left, what do I have left that will break him?)

(…poor choice of words.)

“So what you’re saying is it’s all coincidence?” I ask. “The date, the location, the fact Andersen would be there… all by chance?”

“Yes,” Crowmack says. “Unless you’re meaning to say that someone else is pulling the strings.”

(Wait, that’s it!)

“Actually, I do think someone else had something to do with this,” I say. “There have been several slip-ups in this case. Once with Ema, and once only a few minutes ago with you. Mentioning a “he”. “He told me this” “he said the blood matched”. Now, who is this “He”?”

“Let’s not push this issue further,” Crowmack says. “It was just a slip of the tongue. Nothing more.”

“I have a good idea of who this “He” might be,” I say. (And it ain’t Jesus, The Holy Mother, or the Goddess of Justice.)

>Present Olav Hansen’s profile.   

“Wh-what?” Crowmack says, eyes wide. He brandishes his gavel again, looking like he’s about to hit me. “You- you dare accuse royalty of- of murder?”

“It’s more likely than you think,” Simon says. 

“Think about it,” I say. “Inconsistencies in the forensics reports. Now, who’s head of forensics for this case?”

“An abuse of power,” Simon says. “Not out of character for a royal to do.”

“Please, just stop talking to me,” Crowmack says. “If I tell you any more, I’ll be in danger!”

CRASH!

The final lock breaks.

“Do you really think Norway wants to go to war with England?” I ask.

“Not that, you idiot!” Crowmack yells. “My job! I’m the judge! I’m supposed to remain impartial! If I have you swaying my opinion before trial has even started, I’ll get replaced! And the new judge won’t be so lenient with your group!”

“I think we’ve gotten all we can out of you,” I say. “Thank you, your honor.”

“Please, for your sake and mine, leave,” Crowmack says.

“Of course,” I say. “Come on, group, let’s get out of here.”

12:30pm

Outside the castle

“So, let’s go over everything that’s happened so far,” I say.

“A refresher sounds good,” Simon says.

“Andersen is being charged with treason and regicide,” I say. “Originally, it was thought that he stabbed the king and the man died from blood loss, but it turns out Anders was poisoned.”

“There were two daggers found,” Mark says. “One had the blood of Andersen and the king, the other had the same, according to the forensics report. But according to Detective Skye, the leather dagger had Andersen’s blood and another person’s.”

“Exactly,” I say. “We also have a series of letters from Anders 15 years ago addressed to Andersen’s mother Helga allegedly implying a plan to kill the late queen Elinor.”

“Which, if they truly are what we believe they are,” Simon says, “would mean that King Anders killed his wife, with the help of Helga 15 years ago.”

“And through our conversation with Crowmack earlier,” I say, “I figured out a possible suspect for the man behind this current case. Olav Hansen, next in line for the throne and Forensics expert.”

“But we don’t have any concrete evidence yet that it was him,” Simon says. 

“Besides,” Mark says, “He has no motive. After all, the letters addressed to Helga were only found last year. And only Andersen and I had access to them.”

“Wait… you had access to case information last year?” I ask, and Mark’s eyes go wide.

Clang! 

5 locks.

(Jesus Christ man.)

“I don’t have to tell you,” Mark says.

“Yes, but you should,” I say.

“I don’t want to,” Mark says.

>leverage fear

“Right now, you look extremely suspicious,” I say. “Talking would be a good way of clearing your name.”

“I’m not under suspicion,” Mark says. “I am not a witness. I am the lawyer. Nice try, polis.”

(That didn’t work…)

>Leverage friendship

“It will help us trust you more if you can be honest with us,” I say. “If we’re on the same page, then we can work together better and guarantee Andersen’s acquittal.”

“You’re doing just fine without me saying anything unnecessary,” Mark says.

(That didn’t work either…)

(I really didn’t want to pull this card, but I suppose I must…)

>Leverage Marraige

“When I got married to Atmey,” I say, “I promised there would be no more secrets between us. You’re married, Mark. I’m sure you made similar promises to your wife.”

“Where are you going with this?” Mark says.

“I’m sure Nor wants her brother free almost as much as he wants his own freedom,” I say. “I could just ask her instead of you.”

CRASH!

All five locks break.

“Please, don’t involve her in this,” Mark says, eyes wide. He’s actually showing a genuine emotion: fear. “Please. She doesn’t know. I don’t want her to know.”

“Then you tell us,” I say. “Why do you know so much about this case, and how did you get ahold of evidence and information no one else has access to?”

“…Fine,” Mark says. “I’ll tell you.”

>Mark’s Secret

“I’ve been secretly working on Andersen’s case for years,” Mark says. “Shortly after Nor and I got married, I learned about Andersen’s predicament. I’ve been researching it for nearly a decade. I only recently got into contact with Andersen, back in December of last year. You may recall the incident on Lucia Day. It was after that incident that Andersen and I made official contact. He requested help from me, and in return he’d keep this a secret from my wife. I love Nor more than words can express. I didn’t want her getting involved in this, knowing I’d have to go against Norwegian royalty. If something were to happen, let it happen only to me.”

(I know the feeling. The willingness to risk your life for someone you love… I felt that back in that courtroom cafeteria when I faced off against that pink devil. I needed information, I needed closure, and I needed Mia safe.)

“Why did you keep this a secret from us?” I ask.

“…You’d probably tell my wife,” Mark says. “Please. Don’t.”

“I’m going to be completely honest, I thought it might’ve been you who killed the king,” Simon says.

“I would never!” Mark yells. “I’ve got big enough problems to deal with without having to orchestrate a murder! I’ve got two boys at home to take care of!”

“Mark,” I say, and the man looks at me. “I’ll keep this a secret from Nor.”

“Thank you,” Mark says. 

“Because when this case is over,” I say, “you’re going to explain everything to her.”

“I am?” Mark asks.

“Yes,” I say. “Spouses don’t keep secrets like this. You owe her honesty.”

“I understand,” Mark says. “…Thank you.”

“So, before trial resumes in about an hour,” I say, “any other housekeeping we need to do?”

“…Olav,” Mark says. “We need evidence. We need a motive.”

“A motive?” Ariana asks, eyes lighting up. “I bet I could help you with that!”

(Wow, she’s been surprisingly quiet. Almost forgot she was here.)

“No need, Ariana,” Simon says. “Let the adults handle this. Your father would kill me if something happened to you.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t talk about Andersen killing anyone,” Mark says. “Besides, I have one last piece of information I think you’d be interested in.”

“What would that be?” I ask.

“…Prince Olav actually reached out to me on the 17th,” Mark says. “…he asked me to keep an eye on Andersen. Apparently he was “worried” something might “happen” to the king.”

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Simon yells. “That’s incredibly bloody suspicious!”

“Wife,” Mark says. “Once again. I can’t afford to make enemies in high places. I’m busy enough with my career and my family, I don’t have time to worry about a prince wanting me dead.”

“And he likely reached out to His Honor as well!” Ariana says. “That’s why he thought something was going to happen before it did! It all makes sense now!”

“So where do we go from here?” I ask. “I mean, we have a suspect. We have circumstantial evidence. We don’t have irrefutable evidence nor any witnesses or anything like that. What do we do?”

“We do what Pappa always does!” Ariana says, smiling brightly. “We fight for the truth, no matter what!”

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” I say. “And Mark?”

“Yes?” Mark asks.

“If there’s anything else you’re hiding, say it now.”

“Nothing related to the case,” Mark says.

“…I’ll take your word for it,” I say. “I trust you. I don’t believe you had anything to do with this. You’re a good man.”

“…If you say so,” Mark says. “And I apologize for not telling you all this sooner.”

“It’d be a bit hypocritical of me to get angry at someone for not telling people his secrets,” I say. “After all, I was once so resistant to getting help I killed someone.”

“Let’s… just get ready for the trial,” Mark says. 

“Let’s,” I say. 

(It’s time to end this case once and for all.)

(To repay my debt to Andersen.)

(To get rid of the dust that’s been swept under the rug for 15 years.)

(To solve this murder, and the one from 15 years ago.)

(Let’s Olympic.)

Chapter Text

May 19th

1:25pm

Tingrett av Oslo

“So we can all agree that Prince Olav is quite suspicious, right?” Simon asks, and I nod.

“He’s suspect number 1 for me,” I say. “But we don’t have any evidence directly showing he did it.”

“And evidence like that will be next to impossible to get,” Mark says.

“I’m mainly pissed Andersen-dono never told me anything,” Simon says. “I basically had to threaten the fact he’s wanted for regicide out of him.”

“Wow. And yet somehow I have court mandated therapy,” I say. “You’ll keep your cool around Sadmahdi, right?”

“Of course,” Simon says. “I did just fine yesterday.”

“I believe I know why so much of our evidence is so… unhelpful,” Mark says. “Other than his majesty altering the records, I believe that-”

“Defense team!” The bailiff yells. “Court is starting soon!”

“…I’ll tell you in court,” Mark says.

1:30pm

“The defense has new evidence it has presented to the judges,” I say. “Our stance is that the attack took place in a different room.”

“Furthermore,” Mark says, “The murder and the attack were two different events.”

“Wait what?” Simon asks. “When did you decide that?”

“Earlier today,” Mark says. “I was trying to tell you this before we were interrupted.”

“And what evidence do you have that the singular event is in fact two?” Sahdmahdi asks.

“I…” Mark fidgets with his hands. (Seems he only skimmed the Phoenix Wright Book Of Bluffing instead of studying it)

“We can come back to that idea later, Den,” I say. “For now, we need to confirm that the incident happened in the other room.”
“I know they are two different events,” Mark says. “I just… I don’t know how to fully explain it yet.”

“You’d do well to come to court prepared, little mouse,” Sahdmahdi says. “Lest you get eaten by the cat of justice.”

“Now you’re just making things up, sad monk,” Simon says. 

“The prosecution has a witness,” Sahdmahdi says, ignoring Simon’s snark. “She can testify as to the nature of this “other room”.”
“She?” I ask.

“That is correct, Polar bear, She,” Sahdmahdi says. “A pronoun usually used for women.”

“I know what a pronoun is!” I say. (Although it took me a little bit) “But I thought the person who was investigating was a man.”

“The head of forensics on this case is busy at the moment,” Sahdmahdi says. “So I contacted his sister, the Crown Princess, to testify on his behalf.”

“Wh-what?” Crowmack says, clutching the gavel to his chest.

“Her Royal Highness?” Erika asks, visibly shocked.

“Jeg kan ikke tro det!” Magnus says.

“I call my next witness, the crown princess, to the stand!” Sahdmahdi says, and the gallery erupts in noise.

“Order! Order!” Crowmack says, banging his gavel. “We will have order! Could the witness please come to the stand?”

In comes a woman with short brown hair, downturned eyes, and black rimmed glasses. She’s wearing an ornate black and red dress, and her expression is less than amused.

“I’d rather be dealing with Father’s legal documents and sorting out his will,” the woman says. “But this is more important in the pressing moment.”

“You speak English?” I ask, impressed.

“I went to a prestigious university in England,” the woman says. “Of course I speak English.”

“Name and occupation, your majesty,” Sahdmahdi says, bowing.

“Don’t bow,” the woman says. “We are equal rank, Prince Sahdmahdi.”

(I forgot Sahdmahdi is a Prince.)

“My name is Vanni-Skeleg Hansen. I am the Crown Princess.”

“I understand Crown Prince Olav can’t make it,” Sahdmahdi says. “But in his stead, could you please testify about the findings in the room adjacent to where the body was found?”

“King Olav,” Vanni corrects. “He’s the king now that father is dead.”

“You don’t have to wait until after the coronation?” I ask.

“Nei,” Vanni says. “Are you an idiot?”

“Please testify as to what your brother discovered,” Sahdmahdi says, and Vanni nods.

Witness Testimony 

-The King’s findings-

My brother investigated the room next to the one where the incident took place.

He found nothing of note there.

“That was quick and to the point,” Crowmack says. “Defense, you may cross-examine.”

“Gladly,” I say. (That testimony was so nothing it’ll be easy to prove it’s illegitimacy.)

Cross-examination

-The King’s Findings-

>He found nothing of note there

“Hold it!” I yell. 

“Don’t yell at the Princess!” Sahdmahdi says. “The panda I could understand yelling, but not you, polar bear. I thought you had more sense.”

“Oh stuff it, you wanker!” Simon yells.

“Defense, if you keep being aggressive, we’ll have to hold you in contempt!” Crowmack says. “Don’t call the opposing counsel a wanker!”

“What does “wanker” mean?” Mark asks.

SLAM!

I don’t know what came over me, but I just slammed my leg on the desk.

“CAN WE GET BACK ON SUBJECT, FOR CHRIST’S SAKE?” I yell. 

The gallery erupts with talk. I hear the word “vakker”. 

(I’ll have to ask Andersen what these people are calling me…)

“Order!” Crowmack says. “Defense, what is your objection?”

“Your highness,” I say, “you claim there was nothing of note found in the adjacent room?”

“Yes,” Vanni says.

>Present Ema’s findings 

“According to Olav’s findings,” I say, “there was blood found in the adjacent room.”

“This data is from that other detective,” Vanni says. “I don’t see what this has to do with my brother.”

“If you turn to the next page,” I say, “you’ll find Olav’s records.”

“Ah. So I have,” Vanni says. “…Wait, that doesn’t make sense.”

“What doesn’t make sense?” Sahdmahdi asks. 

“There’s an inconsistency here,” Vanni says. “The blood found on one of the daggers is different between the two accounts.”

“Ah, that must be human error,” Sahdmahdi says. “Humans are one to err, it is our nature as imperfect beings. I can’t hold it against Detective Skye.”

“I never specified it was your detective that made the error,” Vanni says, and Sahdmahdi’s eyes go wide for a brief moment before returning to their normal expression.

“Ah, well, that’s just what he told me,” Sahdmahdi says. 

“…Oh,” Vanni says, eyes wide as she looks at the two papers side by side. “No, that can’t be right!”

“What’s wrong, your highness?” Judge Crowmack asks.

“I’ll get my brother to test the daggers again,” Vanni says. “That should clear up any inconsistencies.”

“If I may, your highness,” I say. “Perhaps you should get it tested again by a third party, that way we can be certain there was no mistake on either side.”

“You suggest my brother falsified information?” Vanni asks, glaring at me.

“It is a possibility,” I say. “I’m well aware of the severity of my accusation, but I must stand by it. I fight for the truth, after all.”

“And this “truth” is that King Olav lied?” Sahdmahdi asks, and I nod.

“That is what I believe, yes.”

“Defense, this is a serious accusation,” Crowmack says. 

“I just said I’m aware,” I say.

“…Well, we will get a third party to re-do the tests,” Crowmack says. “Bailiff?”

“Also regarding your statement of nothing being of note in the other room,” I say, “did your brother neglect to mention it was covered in blood?”

“…apparently he did,” Vanni says. “I… wait… no, that can’t be…”

“What’s the matter, your highness?” Sahdmahdi asks. “You seem upset.”

“It’s… it’s just like 15 years ago,” she says, worried. “What if… what if it wasn’t her back then? What if it was…”

“That case 15 years ago,” I say. “Could you tell us more about it?”

“Objection, relevance,” Sahdmahdi says.

“No, I think it’s relevant,” Vanni says, and that shuts Sahdmahdi up.

“In what way is it relevant?” Crowmack asks. 

“It’s the defense’s belief that the two incidents are connected somehow,” I say. (Phoenix Wright always manages to bluff it out, please say it’ll work for me too…)

“I’ll allow it!” Magnus says, and Erika nods.

“Allow me to testify about the incident 15 years ago,” Vanni says, “and why I believe we’ve all been led astray in this trial.”

Witness Testimony 

-A 15 year long deception-

15 years ago, my mother was killed by a cardamom bun laced with belladonna.

The media circus surrounding that case was well documented but not well researched.

Publications printed false reports, deliberately misleading the general public on the true nature of the case.

During this time, my father was working very closely with several media companies to supposedly “get the story straight”.

Two days ago, my father was killed by arsenic poisoning.

There are inconsistencies between the reports done by my brother and by detectives unaffiliated with the royal family.

My brother now is head of forensics on this case, and seeks to supposedly get to the truth.

I don’t believe either one was being honest.

“You… you suspect King Olav too?” I ask. (Yes! Someone is on our side! Bluffing pays off!)

“I have no evidence,” Vanni says. “And I will not make any formal accusations at this point. I am simply suggesting there may be more to this story than meets the eye. Let the record state that I believe my brother is a good Lutheran man who will do whatever he believes is best for our family and our nation. I have no doubts about his abilities as a King.”

“You believe he’s innocent?” Simon asks, bewildered. 

“Speaking as a member of the Royal Family,” Vanni says, “I believe my brother is a good man.”

“We aren’t going to get a black or white answer from her,” Mark says. “It’s like interrogating a politiker.”

“Defense, you can begin cross examination,” Crowmack says.

“Gladly,” I say.

>During this time, my father was working very closely with several media companies to supposedly “get the story straight”.

“What did this entail?” I ask.

“Telling reporters about the poisoning,” Vanni says. “Talking about the Andersens and their involvement.”

“It’s my understanding that in terms of the entire incident, my client played the part of the unwitting accomplice in the eyes of the media,” I say. “He had no knowledge of the poison in the bun he gifted the queen.”

“Even so,” Vanni says, “it killed her. While her autopsy was done in very small company, there is no doubt as to its contents.”

“In… small company?” Simon asks.

“She means there weren't many people there,” Sahdmahdi says. 

“Could you add that statement to your testimony?” I ask. “The one about the autopsy.”

“You think that’s important, polar bear?” Sahdmahdi asks. He sighs, and pulls out prayer beads. “Let it go, and move on, defense. It was 15 years ago. It has no bearing on today’s case.”

“I think it does,” I say, glaring at the monk. 

“What do you two think?” Crowmack asks the other two judges.

“I think he’s wasted enough of our time,” Magnus says. “I don’t see anything wrong here.”

“I think we have a duty to hear him out,” Erika says. “Just because Her Royal Highness is royalty does not mean we should let her off easily. Have her add her statement.”

“I agree with Erika,” Crowmack says. “Witness, add that to your testimony.”

“Of course,” Vanni says.

>While the autopsy was done in relative secrecy, there is no doubt as to its contents.

“What do you mean by secrecy?” I ask. “It’s my understanding that autopsies are not generally public affairs anyway.”

“There were only two people present at the autopsy,” Vanni says, “As opposed to more as there usually is.”

“And who were those two people?” I ask.

“My father, King Anders,” Vanni says, “...And Magnus Andersen.”

“What?” Magnus the judge yells. “Why was a criminal helping with the autopsy of our queen?”

“Wasn’t he in prison at the time as well?” Erika asks. “What was he doing?”

(This gives credibility to another specific piece of evidence we have…)

“Your highness,” I say, and Vanni looks at me.

“What is it, defense?” She asks. “Do you need further testimony?”

“In a sense,” I say. “I have here a piece of evidence we received earlier today that I now realize has far more to back it up than originally thought.”

“Whatever evidence you have,” Sahdmahdi says, “I hope you had it cleared with the judges first. We don’t want a repeat of yesterday.”

“Oh stuff it, sad monk!” Simon yells.

“Simon if you can’t control yourself you are off the case,” I hiss. I turn back to the prosecutor. “Of course I shared this evidence with Judge Crowmack.”

“And the evidence you are presenting is?” Crowmack asks, and I smirk.

>Present letters

“What… what are these?” Vanni asks. 

“Letters,” I say. “From 15 years ago. From your father, the late King Anders.”

“I… what?” Vanni asks, looking at the letters. “It says “if you ever want to see your husband again”… are you meaning to tell me you accuse my father of threatening someone?”

“Not just “someone”,” I say. “I believe the late King Anders was plotting a scheme to murder Queen Elinor 15 years ago with the help of the accused’s mother, Helga!”

The gallery erupted with noise. I couldn’t understand what most were saying except for that one voice that seems to be following me everywhere saying she needs to tell her “very attractive and very in love with (her) boss” that this has been her most exciting holiday. Then immediately correcting herself and saying “vacation” in a very stereotypical southern US accent.

(Does Mrs Layne just have some kind of magical power to know where drama happens?)

“Order! Order!” Crowmack yells, slamming his gavel. “We will have order in this court so help me Goddess of Justice!”

“Defense,” Sahdmahdi says, looking straight at me.

“I’m aware that this is a serious accusation-” I start, but I barely have any time to speak before the prosecutor throws his prayer beads at me. They circle around my visor, stopping me from being able to see.

“さとらぬ・けがれた・たましいよ・しそさまの・かおも・さんどまで!” Sahdmahdi says, and the beads tighten around my visor, squeezing my head along with it.

“OW!” I yell, clawing at the beads to try and free my head and visor before either breaks. “Stop it! Ow!”

“Prosecutor Sahdmahdi!” Crowmack yells. “Release Prosecutor Godot this instant!”

“Don’t you mean Defense Attorney Godot?” Mark asks. “Are you meaning to tell me he’s a prosecutor?”

“Did the mouse not know the polar bear’s true alignment?” Sahdmahdi asks, and he sighs. “Such is the way of the mouse, I suppose. Unaware that the cheese he’s being fed is from a cat who intends to kill him.”

“LET GO, YOU’RE GOING TO BREAK MY VISOR!” I yell. “AND THEN I’LL BE BLIND AGAIN. DO YOU REALLY WANT TO DO THAT?”

In an instant, the beads loosen and fall off. I glare at the prosecutor, who has a look of absolute terror on his face.

“I… I had no idea you were-” he says, but Simon interrupts him.

“ITS NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS, SAD MONK,” he yells. “FOR A MONK WHO CLAIMS TO WANT TO JUST LET IT GO AND MOVE ON, YOU SURE LIKE TO CLING TO YOUR OLD OUTDATED METHODS OF GETTING COMPLIANCE.”

“I have nothing to say to the likes of you, Panda!” Sahdmahdi yells.

“HOLD KÆFT ALLE!” 

Everyone goes silent. We all turn to look at the man who just yelled.

It was Mark.

“Stop fighting over personal matters,” he says. “We are here to solve a murder! Or did you all forget that? Prosecutor Sahdmahdi! Don’t throw your beads at the defense! Simon! Stop bringing personal drama into this! Your honors!”

“Yes?” Crowmack, Erika, and Magnus ask, surprised.

“Do your damn job and call order when they try to start their fights! For fuck’s sake! It’s your job to keep order!”

“I’m sorry,” Crowmack says. “…Why don’t we call a brief recess? That way we can all collect ourselves and actually focus on the case?”

“A 5 minute recess would be perfect,” I say. (And when trial starts back up, perhaps Simon should stay in the gallery…)

“Court is dismissed for a short recess!” Crowmack says. “Be back in 5!”

Chapter Text

May 19th

3:55pm

Tingrett av Oslo

“That vas…” Archie says, as we all stand in the lobby.

“Painful,” I say. “The way the beads squeezed my head… how does he do that?”

“Some weird Khurainist chant,” Simon says. “He tried to do that on me once.”

“Knowing you, you likely deserved it,” Archie says, and Simon elbows him.

“undskyld, at jeg mistede roen,” Mark says. “I’ve just been very… stresset lately.”

“Keeping secrets from your spouse must be very stressful,” I say. “I wouldn’t know from experience, though.”

“Every good relationship has secrets,” Mark says. 

“But not all secrets are created equal,” I say. 

“Can I come help with the trial this time?” Ariana asks. “It seems like you guys might need it.”

“Please return to the gallery, Ariana,” Archie says.

“I can help!” Ariana says. “What if I try to channel the dead King? Could that help?”

“You can channel two people,” Archie says. “Neither of whom are Anders.”

“Pardon me for trying to help!” Ariana says. Suddenly, her phone rings, and her eyes go wide. She looks at her phone, and upon seeing who called she smiles. “I gotta take this, I’ll see you all later!”

“Vere are you going?” Archie asks, and Ariana giggles. 

“To take a serious phone call,” she says. “Like I said, I’ll see you later!” And with that, she leaves the room.

“What was that about, I wonder?” Mark says. 

“Defense!” The bailiff yells. “It’s time to return!”

“Let’s do this,” I say, and Simon and Mark nod.

(I still have so many questions…)

4:00pm

“I trust the defense is sufficiently calmed down?” Crowmack asks.

“Yes, indeed,” I say. 

“The prosecution is ready to proceed as well,” Sahdmahdi says.

“Wonderful,” Crowmack says. “Our previous witness has returned to the stand, you may resume questioning.”

“Your highness,” I say, and Vanni looks at me. “I know this may be a difficult idea to consider, but the possibility of your father being the one who killed Queen Elinor is something we must consider.”

“I understand,” Vanni says. “I will testify as to the nature of these letters.”

Witness Testimony

-15 year old letters-

These letters do appear to be legitimate, I would recognize my father’s handwriting anywhere.

They lay out the general plan for a murder of some sort. There aren’t many specifics, of course.

There are also several inconsistencies between the letters and the evidence pertaining to the case from 15 years ago.

As it stands, it seems there’s not enough evidence to state that my father ultimately poisoned my mother.

>There are also several inconsistencies between the letters and the evidence pertaining to the case from 15 years ago.

“Such as?” I ask.

“The poison used to kill her,” Vanni says. “In the letters “arsenic” is written, but she truly died from nightshade.”

“Nightshade?” I ask, confused. “It says here that she was killed by belladonna.”

“...Nightshade is another name for belladonna,” Vanni sighs. “If you’re taking a case related to poisons, I’d suggest knowing the colloquial terms.”

(Listen, lady, I didn’t even know this case was a poisoning until yesterday!)

“Not everyone knows every name for every type of poison,” Simon says. 

“Don’t be rude to Her Royal Highness,” Sahdmahdi snaps, glaring at Simon.

“Oh, touched a nerve there, prince-boy?” Simon sneers.

“Simon I will muzzle you,” I growl.

“…Sorry,” Simon begrudgingly spits out.

“So, the letters have a different poison named than what ultimately did the Queen in?” Mark asks, and Vanni nods.

“She was killed by Belladonna, as stated in her autopsy report. The letters said arsenic.”

“Interesting,” Mark says, and he writes something down in a notebook I never realized he had. “Continue.”

>As it stands, it seems there’s not enough evidence to state that my father ultimately poisoned my mother.

“What about the fact a known criminal was assisting with the autopsy?” I ask. “That in and of itself is mighty suspicious.”

“If I may, your majesty,” Sahdmahdi says. “Being a criminal does not stop one from being able to perform their job admirably. I’d say you’re a prime example, however I don’t quite fancy lying.”

(Dude, fuck you)

“The defense is a criminal?” Vanni asks, eyes wide. “Why is he here?”

“I did my time,” I say. “Magnus Andersen evidently had not at the time of the autopsy, yet he performed it anyway. If we cross reference this fact with the letters, it would appear that Helga Andersen did indeed go along with whatever plan the late king concocted.”

“That does seem to be the case,” Erika says. 

“This has nothing to do with the case at hand!” Magnus yells. “Stop wasting time and get back on track!”

“Just because Mr Andersen was assisting in the autopsy does not mean this alleged deal between the late king and the defendant’s mother went through,” Sahdmahdi says. “Perhaps he was simply called upon to perform it by the king.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Pardon?” Sahdmahdi says.

“Why would he be called to do it?” I ask. “Why him? Why then? There were many different people King Anders could've called upon to do this autopsy, but for some reason he chose Magnus Andersen. And right after sending a series of letters to Helga Andersen outlining a deal to secure his freedom.”

“W-well,” Sahdmahdi says, gripping his prayer beads tightly. “It’s simply a coincidence!”

“Perhaps,” I say. “Or perhaps not. Your highness?”

“Yes?” Vanni asks.

(Trite method, don’t fail me now…)

“There is no death penalty here, correct?” I ask.

“Of course there isn’t,” Vanni says indignantly. “What do you take us for, Americans?”

“Is there a list somewhere containing those incarcerated in this country?” I ask, ignoring the very valid slight against my country.

“Yes,” Vanni says. “The Norwegian Prison Registry, as you would call it in English. It contains data on sentence length, transfers, date imprisoned, deaths-”

“It’s my understanding that Helga and Magnus Andersen are both dead, is that correct?”

“They are,” Vanni says. “Died tragically.”

“Did they die in prison?” I ask.

“Why are you asking such a thing?” Judge Magnus says. “Of course they did!”

“That does seem foolish to ask,” Crowmack says. “You better have a good reason to waste the court’s time-”

“No,” Vanni says.

(Bingo.)

“H-HVAAAAAAAAAAAAA?” Judge Magnus yells, flinching backwards. “Hva mener du “Nei”?”

“If you check the registry,” Vanni says, “You’ll see that neither died in prison.”

“Which begs the question,” I say. “Why didn’t they die in prison, if they were both convicted and sentenced to life behind bars for their crimes?”

“I… I don’t know,” Vanni says. “Rather, I don’t know if I can say. My brother has the reigns over all sensitive data relating to that case-”

Andersen’s phone rings. The Norwegian national anthem plays, and everyone goes quiet. Vanni stares at him with a disapproving look, and Andersen’s face goes red.

(Wow, I’ve never seen Andersen embarrassed by something Norwegian before…)

(Although perhaps the embarrassment is mostly from his phone ringing during court.)

“I’ll just hang up,” Andersen says, but Vanni shakes her head.

“That’s my brother’s number,” She says, looking at the phone from the stand, evidently recognizing the number. “We’ve been trying to contact him all day, pick up the phone.”

“...Ok,” Andersen says. He answers, and hands the phone to Vanni.

“Ja, det er meg, søsteren din,” She says. “Hvor i HELVETE er du? …Åh, jeg håper du føler deg bedre snart. …Ja, vi snakker om Andersen-familien. …Virkelig? …Å, selvfølgelig «Deres Majestet». …Å, dra til helvete. ….Elsker deg også. Vi sees senere.”

“What is she saying?” I ask Mark.

“She’s telling her brother to go to hell,” Mark says.

“Hah, I guess siblings will be siblings no matter their class,” Simon says.

“Indeed,” Mark says, smiling slightly.

(I’m too only child for this.)

“I’ve been instructed by the king to tell you everything,” Vanni says. “Unfortunatley, this will be my final testimony, as I have far too much to do today.”

“Thank you, your highness, for putting up with the defense’s frivolous questions,” Sahdmahdi says. “As the monks say, “those with the most to do often get called to waste the most time”.”

“I seriously think he’s making these sayings up,” Simon says. 

“Please give us your final testimony, witness,” Crowmack says.

Witness Testimony

-My Final Testimony-

Magnus and Helga Andersen did not die in prison. In fact, Helga Andersen was only in prison for three months.

They were sent to Germany after the media’s short attention span lost interest in the murder case.

Their son, Archibald Andersen, was sent away as well. My brother believes it was done in an effort to save him from growing up labeled a terrorist. I for one believe it was also done in part to keep him out of the way.

Helga and Magnus died 5 years ago in Germany in a tragic train wreck. They did not die in prison.

“So that’s the true reason I vas sent to America,” Andersen says. “Because if I vas sent to Germany, I’d know the truth.”

“I’m sorry, Mr Andersen,” Vanni says. 

“But… but why was this all done?” I ask. “Why were they essentially pardoned of their crimes? Why separate the family if they all played a part in this?”

“I don’t know,” Vanni says. “The only man who could give a straight answer is dead, and there’s no way to bring him back.”

(Damnit! If only Maya were here!)

“If only Ariana could help us,” Simon says. “I hope this doesn’t upset her too much…”

“We’ve reached a dead end,” Mark says. “I don’t know how we’re going to be able to get out of it.”

(There must be something we’re missing! I know this is significant! I know there’s a reason all this happened! But I don’t have the evidence to prove it! If only I had that last piece of perfect evidence, I could turn this case around!)

“Defense,” Sahdmahdi says, and I look up from the desk. His face is still irritatingly smug, but his tone doesn’t match. “If you truly seek to reveal a corruption from the past, you need evidence from the past. And to get that, you need someone with a connection to said past. Do you have that?”

“I… I do,” I say. “Andersen.”

“What evidence does he have that could help you?” Sahdmahdi asks.

“Why are you helping us?” Simon growls. “I thought you were too high and mighty to assist us corrupted souls.”

“Shut up, Blackquill,” I hiss. 

(What does Andersen have that could help us? He gave us the letters, but is there something else?)

(Perhaps… perhaps there’s a contradiction in a piece of evidence we own that he could shed light on… but what?)

(Wait… something he knows personally, that could help us… I got it!)

“Andersen,” I say, and the defendant perks up. “How well do you know poisons?”

“Intimatly,’ he says. “I’ve studied many different types so I know vat to look for in food people make me. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, I’m dead.”

“So you know the signs of belladonna poisoning?” I ask.

“Of course,” Andersen says. 

“And the late Queen’s autopsy report,” I say. “Does it look like she died by belladonna?”

“I don’t know,” Andersen says. “I don’t have access to it.”

“Allow me to fix that,” Vanni says.

Queen Elinor’s Autopsy Report added to the court record, then quickly handed to Andersen.

Andersen looks at the report. His eyebrows knit in concentration as he reads. Eventually, he looks up and shakes his head.

“Vell it vasn’t belladonna,” He says. “Belladonna doesnt make your hair fall out.”

“What?” Vanni says. “But father said-”

“It’s becoming increasingly likely that your father lied,” I say. “He lied about the cause of Queen Elinor’s death. He lied about Magnus and Helga’s prison sentence. He lied about many things.”

“I… I don’t know what to say,” Vanni says. “I… I need to go sit down. I’m sorry. I can’t continue.”

“That’s alright, Vanni-Skeleg,” A familiar voice says. “I’ll take it from here.”

Into the courtroom comes King Olav, looking rather worse for wear but still standing proud.

“Your majesty,” Crowmack says, bowing. “Please don’t feel required to speak, we know you are busy-”

“Licking his boot isn’t going to help find the truth, your honor,” Simon says. “He’s going to stay and he’s going to testify.”

“Simon!” I hiss again. “This is a King you’re talking about! I’d have thought you’d know to treat them with respect, aren’t you English?”

“Clearly you’ve never been to England," Simon says. “Next to nobody actually cares about the royal family.”

“Your majesty,” Mark says, “Would you be willing to explain the discrepancy between the autopsy report and the supposed cause of death?”

“No,” Olav says. 

“No?” I ask.

“No,” Olav repeats. “Nei. Nein. Non. Nee. Nej.”

“But- but that’s what we need testimony about!” I say. “You have to give your testimony-”

“We are here to solve the murder that occurred on constitution day,” Olav says. “Not try to pin the blame of a murder from 15 years ago on someone other than the defendant and his horrible family.”

“But-” I start, but I’m interrupted by the prosecutor.

“While this detour has been enlightening,” Sahdmahdi says, “This isn’t a Japanifornia court. Things go by the book here, you can’t just bluff using a diversion and expect it to go over well.”

“Wait, but we were getting somewhere!” I say. “That case, it’s wrong! Prosecutor Sahdmahdi, you know there’s something wrong!”

“I know no such thing,” Sahdmahdi says, his smug demeanor back, yet I can’t help but notice how fake it is. Like I can see through the cracks and at a man who is on my side but can’t show it. 

I understand that feeling all too well.

“Defense,” Crowmack says, looking right into my eyes. 

“Jack, come on!” I say. “Don’t you remember when I helped with the judicial olympics? I had to go in a roundabout way, but I ultimately got the right guy in the end!”

“This is a courtroom,” Crowmack says. “You are to address me as “Your Honor”. And I am to remain impartial. This detour has gone on long enough. It’s about time we got back to what we’re really here to solve, the murder of the former King.”

“Yes, exactly,” Olav says. “The retrial of Andersen for the crimes 15 years ago will have to happen later.”

“But-” I start, but it’s no use.

“Court will adjourn for a 15 minute recess!” Crowmack says. “In that time, prepare your evidence and witnesses to get back to what we’re actually here to do.”

“...fine,” I say.

Chapter Text

May 19th

5:12pm

Tingrett av Oslo

“Vere is datteren min?” Andersen asks.

“I… don’t know,” I say, turning to Simon. “Where’s Ariana?”

“I thought she was in the gallery,” Simon says, and Andersen’s expression turns to panic.

“Oh God,” he says. “Vere could she be? Something could’ve happened to her- I don’t know vere she could be!”

While Andersen panics, I see Mark dial a number on his phone. It rings, and then is answered.

“Ariana Andersen?” Mark asks, and Andersen calms down slightly. “Ja, I’m putting you on högtalare.”

“Ari?” Andersen asks, and the voice on the other end of the line answers.

“Pappa!” It is Ariana. “Oh I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to worry you or dad! I’m just busy right now…”

Another voice on the other end says something. “Ariana, hvem er det?” The voice sounds familiar, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.

“Ariana, vat the hell are you doing vith Prince Johan?” Andersen asks, angry. (Ah. That’s where I’ve heard it.)

“I’ll explain later,” Ariana says. She says something to Johan on the other end, then speaks again to her father. “Don’t worry, I’m just trying to help the case.”

“Stay avay from the royal family,” Andersen says. “They’re dangerous.”

“See this is why I didn’t want to tell you!” Ariana yells. “You don’t know anything about Johan, but you insist he’s a bad person! Look, I’ll explain everything after this, but I know Johan is a good kid! We’re trying to find something that’s gonna help your case!”

“I’m yust saying be careful,” Andersen says. “It’s not yust him being royalty, he’s also a boy. And as your father I worry about you being around strange boys I don’t know.”

“Well don’t worry,” Ariana says. “Stay out of my life. You have five million secrets, you can allow me a few.”

“You haven’t told us where you are,” Simon says. “And you’re still legally a child. For the next two years, we have the right to know where you go, who you’re with, and what you’re doing.”

“I’m at the palace,” Ariana says. “I’m with Johan. We are looking for information. Happy?”

“That’s good enough for me,” Simon says. “Pigtails? What’s your verdict?”

“Vy are you vith the prince?” He asks.

“Not telling,” Ariana says. “If you want to talk to me, talk to my lawyer!”

“I am your lawyer,” Andersen says.

“Not right now you’re not!” Ariana says.

“Is he forcing you to be there?” Andersen asks. “Could you leave if you had to?”

“I’m fine, pappa,” Ariana groans. “Johan, if I wanna leave, can I?”

“Ja!” Johan says on the other end, voice quieter as he’s obviously not right next to Ariana.

“I’m gonna go now,” Ariana says. “I’ll explain everything later.”

“No, you vill explain now-” Andersen starts, but Ariana hangs up before he can finish.

“Well, at least we know where she is,” I say. “Thanks, Mark.”

“Welcome,” Mark says. 

“We don’t have enough evidence to prove Olav killed the king,” I say, “so we should focus on proving Andersen couldn’t.”

“That’s what defense attorneys do,” Mark says. “It’s not our job to point out the guilty party. Just to prove our client’s innocence.”

“…it’s different in LA,” I say. “Back at home, we’re pretty much forced to prove someone else guilty…”

“So what would prove it couldn’t have been Andersen-dono?” Simon asks.

“Gift,” Archie says.

“What?” I ask.

“Poison,” Archie explains. “Arsenic takes time to kill. If you can prove there vere signs of arsenic poisoning before I met him, that vould prove my innocence.”

“So we just have the King testify about how Anders was doing that day,” I say. “Catch him in a lie.”

“...I fear getting him convicted will not be that simple,” Mark says. 

“What?” I ask. “What are you hiding this time?”

“At the very least,” Mark says, “If we prove Anders died before, then-”

“We’ll have the whole stabbing incident to explain,” Simon interrupts. “Who could he have stabbed if not the king?”

“I don’t know,” I say.

“Defense team!” The bailif yells. 

“Well, we’ll figure it out when we get to it,” I say. “Let’s finish this.”

5:15pm

“Let’s get back on track, shall we?” Olav says. “No more talk of 15 years ago, just the events of the 17th.”

“Your majesty, please allow the judges to do their job,” Crowmack says.

“Hmph,” Olav says, crossing his arms. “Fine.”

“We are continuing the trial of Archibald Andersen!” Crowmack says. “Prosecution, what of the tests ordered earlier?”

“The re-tests of all relevant evidence is being conducted as we speak,” Sahdmahdi says. “We should have the results soon. Until then, I will utter silent prayers for the deceased.”

“How long until the results?” I ask, as Simon mutters something cruel under his breath.

“Shouldn’t be long,” Sahdmahdi says. “You won’t have time for much stalling, if that’s what you’re intending to do.”

(Damnit, it's like he can see right through me!)

“Thank you prosecutor,” Crowmack says. “Defense, what is your next move?”

“Her royal highness won’t be testifying any more,” Sahdmahdi reminds me. 

“I know,” I say. “However, we have another royal in the courtroom right now.”

“Surely you aren’t trying to say-” Sahdmahdi starts.

“King Olav,” I say, looking the man in the eyes. “Could you testify as to the late King’s constitution on the day he was killed?” 

“Objection,” Sahdmahdi says. “Relevance.”

“I cannot share why as it will bias the witness,” I say. (Come on… take the bait, your honor… you know how I operate…)

“…continue,” Crowmack says. “However, if you are unable to prove relevance by the end of the cross-examination, you will be held in contempt.”

“I am willing to take that risk,” I say. (This better work.)

“Of course,” Olav says. 

Witness Testimony

-Father’s health-

Anders was relatively healthy the days leading up to the 17th

However, on our most wonderful of days- constitution day- he complained of pain and discomfort.

He had been out sailing just the day before, so we thought nothing of it.

I was there to offer support and help to Father during his struggles.

“There’s nothing of note here in this testimony,” Sahdmahdi says. “The late king had a sailing accident.”

“On the contrary, there is everything of note here,” I say. “I believe it is time to cross-examine.”

“Of course,” Crowmack says.

Cross-examination

-Father’s health-

>However, on our most wonderful of days- constitution day- he complained of pain and discomfort.

“What kind of pain?” I ask.

“Abdominal pain,” Olav says. “I figured he simply ate some bad fish or the like. He vomited quite a bit and was wheezing frequently.”

“Andersen,” I say, looking at the defendant, “Abdominal pain. Vomiting. Shortness of breath.”

“Arsenic poisoning,” Andersen said.

“Of course he’d be showing signs of arsenic poisoning,” Olav says. “He died from it, no?”

“He did,” I say. “However, these symptoms you are describing were before Andersen even met with the late king.”

“Wh-what?” Olav says, flinching back. 

“Andersen only arrived at the palace in the evening on the 17th,” I say. “Meaning whoever poisoned the king could only have done so before Andersen arrived! Ergo, Andersen is innocent!”

“Wh- WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT????” Olav shrieks, stumbling backwards. “B- but I know it was him! It had to be him!”

“Why?” I ask. “Why did it have to be him?”

“Because it’s the same as 15 years ago!” Olav says. “Same time, same poison, same-”

“Same poison?” Mark asks. “It isn’t-”

“What if Andersen snuck in earlier?” Olav asks. “What if he went earlier that day to-”

“He was at a family reunion that day,” Mark says. “From 9:30am to 5:00 pm.”

“Then the previous night!” Olav says. “He could’ve snuck in-”

“Objection!” Simon yells. “He can’t have snuck out at night because I had sex with him and he was out like a light!”

“You really didn’t need to share that much, Blackquill,” I mutter, and Andersen’s face was no doubt red with blush.

“But then- who was it?” Olav asks, his face that of someone who clearly wants to be seen as worried and upset.

“I have an idea,” I say.

“Then please, share!” Olav says. “I apologize for how I was treating you, I was just worried you might be making a mistake with this trial, is all.”

“I hereby accuse none other than you, King Olav, for the murder of King Anders!”

The gallery erupts with chaos, and I hear Olav say something before the judge can call order.

“A mistake would’ve been a mercy.”

“Order!” Crowmack says, and the other judges join in on calling for order. Several minutes pass before the noise dies down, and amongst it all I hear many, many words said about me that I don’t think I’ll repeat.

“You are aware of the-” Erika starts.

“YES I’M AWARE!” I shout. “I mean. Yes, I’m aware.”

“What evidence do you have to back up this claim?” Crowmack asks.

“I’ve heard all I needed to,” Magnus says. “I’m ready to announce my verdict.”

“As am I,” Erika says.

“W-wait!” I say. “There’s still more to discuss!”

“It’s clear that the defendant is not guilty,” Magnus says. “There is no need to further prolong this-”

“OBJECTION!” Sahdmahdi yells, and he throws his prayer beads at Simon. This time, they don’t tighten or anything. Simon glares at the prosecutor and snaps the string holding the beads together. They fall on the floor.

“What is your objection, Prosecutor?” Crowmack asks.

“Yeah, what’s so important you can’t allow the judges to pass judgement?” Simon asks with a sneer. “Have another prayer to make up?”

“Simon…” I growl.

“It is the prosecution’s stance that there are still unanswered questions that must be addressed before judgement can be passed,” Sahdmahdi says. “Perhaps we were mistaken. Perhaps the poison was what ultimately killed the king, but there is still the matter of the stabbing to consider. After all,” He looks at me, “what kind of lawyers would we be if we didn’t answer every question?”
“The matter of the stabbing is irrelevant!” King Olav yells. “I know it was Andersen!”

“Andersen has already admitted to stabbing someone,” I say. “It was assumed he had stabbed the king. But there was that inconsistency with the daggers.”

“And I have just received the updated forensics report,” Sahdmahdi says. “I propose we all take a look.”

Updated Forensics Report added to the court record

“It… it can’t be,” Crowmack says. “There was unidentifiable blood on the leather handled dagger after all?”

“Which means the dagger Andersen used did not touch Anders,” I say. “Which begs the question of who exactly it could’ve been…”

“It’s the defense’s belief that Andersen did not stab the king,” Simon says, “But in fact someone else entirely. Someone who had some reason to want the king dead and also want Andersen gone. Someone like you, King Olav!”

“INNVENDING!” Olav yells. “Nei! Nei nei nei! It was Andersen who killed the king! Who poisoned and stabbed him! It had to be! Don’t you see? It had to be! He’s the only one who could have! Who had the motive to! And he used the same poison as with my mother! It’s his M.O!”

(This is the second time he’s mentioned the poisons being the same… I think I know just what to do now.)

“King Olav,” I say, “If you truly believe still that my client is guilty, surely you'd be willing to testify about your convictions?”

“Of course!” Olav says. I didn’t realize it before, but even in his unhinged state the man refuses to slouch over or move too much. It’s honestly quite surreal, he’s like a really good voice actor over a poorly animated show.

Witness testimony

-Why it was definitely Andersen-

The poison that killed my father was the same type of poison that killed my mother 15 years ago!

And as we all know, Andersen was the one that gave the Queen that arsenic bun! 

So it could only have been him!

He hates our family because of what we did to his father, and this is how he’s decided to get his revenge!

“Arsenic bun?” Sahdmahdi asks, confused. “I thought-”

“I’ve already told you everything you need to know, Prosecutor,” Olav says. “You are to treat me with respect, as I am King.”

Cross-Examination

-Why it was definitely Andersen-

>The poison that killed my father was the same type of poison that killed my mother 15 years ago!

“And that poison was arsenic, you claim?” I ask, and Olav nods. 

“That’s odd,” Simon says. “I have here a newspaper clipping about the incident in question. 15 years ago, Queen Ellinor was poisoned by a saffron bun tainted with belladonna.”

“Wh-what?” Olav says, flinching backwards. “But I thought it was-”

“The witness is simply mistaken,” Sahdmahdi says. “Calm down, panda. Let it go, and move on.”

“Defense,” Crowmack says, “Do you believe that this information is important to this case?”

“It seems more like a simple mix-up to me,” Erika says.

“I do believe it’s important,” I say. 

“Very well,” Crowmack says. “Witness, add this to your testimony.”

>I was mistaken about the type of poison, but it still could’ve only been Andersen!

“Considering your theorized link that connects my client with both murders is based on faulty logic,” I say, “I don’t think it only could’ve been Andersen anymore.”

“Well then who could’ve killed my father?” Olav asks. “That’s the one question you’ve been unable to answer! Who killed him, if not the man on trial?”

“That cannot be proven at this stage,” I say. “We need more information.”

“What the polar bear on the defense needs,” Sahdmahdi says, “Is to abandon further pursuing this case while he still can. Let it go, and move on. There’s no use continuing the questioning when the judges have made up their mind about your client. Do what he would do in this situation, and give up.”

“Shut up you bastard!” Simon yells. “You don’t know a thing about Andersen-dono! You call yourself someone who fights for justice, but here you are flagrantly disregarding it!”

“I am not disregarding it, panda,” Nahyuta says, his face mostly calm with the occasional twitch of annoyance. “In fact, I don’t deny the fact there is certainly more to learn. Sometimes, some things must be said to get the outcome you desire.”

“What must I say then to get you to fuck off and kill-”

“That’s enough!” Crowmack yells, and he bangs the gavel. “I will hold you in contempt if this continues!”

“You wouldn’t hold anyone in anything,” I scoff. Meanwhile, Sahdmahdi has fully regained his composure.

“Time makes villains of us all,” Sahdmahdi says.

(…Argh! I don’t like how calm he is about all this! I know my client is innocent!)

(What would Mia do?)

“Armando.”

I’m brought out of my spiral by a familiar voice. I look to my left, and there he is.

“You have to find the truth, Armando,” Nota Sing, detective of the PCH5 case and my client’s mentor says, being channeled by Ariana Andersen. I suppose we were all too busy arguing to notice her come in. “No matter what it takes or if you have to hurt your client to do so.”

“Why are you here?” I ask.

“Ariana can pretty much only channel me,” he says. 

“When did Ariana get here?” I ask.

“Defense?” Crowmack says. “What’s going on? Who’s that guy?”

“Don’t mind me, judges,” Sing says. “I’ll be gone in a minute.” He turns to me. “Johan is in the courthouse. He has something important. You have to call him in.”

 “How do you know-”

“I’m sure Ariana will tell you when the case is over,” Nota says. “Right now, you have to call him in. He has what you need.”

“But-” I start, but Nota interrupts me.

“Poison isn’t the only thing that leaves a mark,” he says. “Someone else carries a mark of the crimes they did. It’s up to you to figure out what that mark is.”

“Polar bear?” Sahdmahdi asks, smirking. “Are you ready to admit defeat? Or do you have another witness lined up?”

“It’s time,” Nota says. “Goodbye.” Nota’s spirit leaves, and Ariana falls over. Simon catches her, and makes sure she’s okay.

“I would like to call forth a new witness,” I say. 

“Who is it this time?” Magnus groans. “If you’re just wasting our time-”

“This should be our final witness,” I say. “I summon Prince Johan Hansen to the-”

“INNVENDING!” 

The whole courtroom goes silent, as everyone looks at who just interrupted the proceedings.

In runs a young boy holding a Manila folder full of documents. He holds it up in the air as he tries to catch his breath.

“Please… you can’t proceed with the trial,” he says. 

“Who is this?” Sahdmahdi asks.

“My next witness,” I say. “Prince Johan.” The prince looks at me, then at Ariana. 

“Is she okay?” He asks, and I nod.

“Prince Johan, what did you bring us?” I ask.

“My mother’s autopsy report,” Johan says. “There’s been a serious misrepresentation of the facts over the past 15 years. I want to set the record straight.”

“Then by all means,” I say. “Testify as to the papers in your hands.”

Witness Testimony

-Nothing but the Truth-

My mother was killed 15 years ago by poison.

In the news and in the official court proceedings, there was a misrepresentation.

The poison that killed her was not belladonna, as we were all led to believe.

The saffron bun she ate was poisoned with belladonna.

My mother, however, died of arsenic poisoning.

The levels of poison in the bun weren’t enough to kill my mother.

It says so in the official autopsy report I found in the royal archives.

“What?” Erika yells. “So the poisoned bun didn’t do her in?”

“Vi har blitt løyet til hele tiden!” Magnus yells. “opprørende!”

“Then if it wasn’t either Andersen back then, then who killed the queen?” Crowmack asks.

“I- well- I don’t-” Johan says, fidgeting with his hands.

“Let’s just cross-examine,” I say.

“Objection!” Olav yells. “This is irrelevant!”

“Overruled!” Crowmack yells. “You have multiple times based your accusations on this point, it is very relevant!”

“You can’t overrule me!” Olav says. “I am the King!”

“You aren’t my king!” Crowmack says. “In this courtroom, I am law! And I say Your objection is overruled!”

(There he is. The man who stood up for himself all those years ago at the judicial Olympics. Who grabbed a knife by the blade to save the day. Who can stand up for what is right when times get tough.)

(I’m sorry for ever doubting you, Crowmack. Your father would be proud.)

“You have proven the link between the two events,” I say. “The poisoning of the Queen and the poisoning of the King used the same poison, as you’ve said time and time again. And we have evidence to point to who committed the murder all those years ago as well. In fact, we presented this evidence earlier today.”

“You don’t mean-” Sahdmahdi gasps.

“Yes, I do,” I say. 

>Present letters

“It is the defense’s belief that 15 years ago, my client was not the murderer of Queen Elinor, through coercion, mistake, or otherwise. The true killer of the late Queen was none other than the late King Anders!”

The gallery erupted with noise.

(Ugh… everything is so loud. My head hurts. I wish I had my coffee…)

“Order! Order in the court!” Crowmack says. “Defense! I know you’re aware of the risks, but I’m asking as a formality. Are you sure you want to go through with this accusation?”

“Yes,” I say. 

“Um… can I go now?” Johan asks, and that reminds me I never actually cross examined him.

“Can we get anything out of this cross examination?” I ask Mark.

“Obviously,” he says. “You always can.”

“I think we should get on with the cross-examination, your honor,” I say.

“Oh! Yes! Please do!” Crowmack says, fidgeting with his gavel and smiling sheepishly.

(Aaand there goes his aura of power.)

Cross-examination 

-Nothing but the Truth-

>It says so in the official autopsy report I found in the royal archives.

“These archives,” I say. “How many people have access to it?”

“Just the Royal Family,” Johan says. “And some higher ranking members of government.”

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Simon says, and I nod.

“Why don’t you take a crack at this?”

“Gladly,” Simon says. “OBJECTION!”

Johan flinches.

“Olav,” Simon says. “You said earlier, “And as we all know, Andersen was the one that gave the Queen that arsenic bun”.”

“We’ve been over-” Olav starts.

“SILENCE!” Simon yells. “You were insistent on this idea. You were completely confident in your testimony! Because you knew what really killed the Queen!”

“So?” Olav says, slamming his hands on the witness stand. “I had access to the Royal archives. This doesn’t prove anything!”

“Why didn’t you just come clean about reading the documents then?” Simon says. “You lied on the stand, King Olav. That’s a crime.”

“I don’t care!” Olav yells. “So what if I knew who killed- what killed my mother?”

(Ah.)

“Who killed your mother?” I say. “So, you knew the whole time the true culprit of that case?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth!” Olav yells. “I didn’t know until now what happened!”

“Well, yesterday you told us something interesting,” I say. “You said what happened to your father wasn’t unexpected. You seemed rather… casual about the whole affair.”

“That’s just how we are in Norway with strangers,” Olav says. “We don’t like talking to people.”

“Can confirm,” Andersen says. “Ve vill avoid eye contact like a plague.”

“But acting casually when your father died?” I ask. “Even if you despise him, you still show some emotion! Especially as a monarch! Why, is it not important to show that you’re sad about his death?”

“Johan isn’t crying!” Olav says. “He’s a child! He should be sobbing his eyes out! Is he a suspect too?”

“Don’t pick on Johan like that!” Ariana yells, glaring daggers as the king. “He was too crying! He’s just too scared to cry around other people!”

“And how would you know that?” Olav asks. “And you do not have the privilege to address him by first name only.”

“King Olav!” I yell, slamming my arms on the table. “There are just too many inconsistencies to be coincidences! You lied on the stand! Tell us why!”

“I had my reasons!” Olav yells, slamming his arms into the stand. “I don’t have to tell you anything! And I don’t care about the consequences of lying on the stand! But I-” Olav suddenly started clutching his side. “But I don't have to tell you anything!”

“Your side a bit sore?” Simon asks, smirking. “Is it more a burning pain, a shooting pain, or a stabbing pain?”

(This is the mark Nota mentioned!)

“AHHH!” Johan screams, watching the right side of Olav’s shirt start turning a brownish red. “You’re bleeding!”

“I got in a fight with someone,” Olav said. “It happens.”

“That you did,” Mark says. “You certainly got in a fight with a very specific someone.”

“Are you trying to say-” Sahdmahdi starts.

“Strenuous activities can reopen wounds,” I say. “Such as slamming on the desk.”

“It’s especially easy when the wound is only a few days old,” Simon says. “So tell us, Your Royal Highness, when exactly did you get into this fight?”

“Ngh….” Olav growls. “I… I… I…”

“I hereby indict His Majesty, King Olav, with the charge of not only regicide, but patricide!” I say.

“You…. You… you grusomme utlendinger!” Olav yells. 

“How dare you!” Sahdmahdi snaps. 

“You still deny it?” I ask. “Then please. Explain why you’re bleeding from the wound that proves my proposed sequence of events.”

“I don’t have to!” Olav yells. “You can’t do anything!”

“We’ll see about that!” I say. “Testify!”

“I don’t even have to!” Olav yells. “Like I said, you can’t do anything!”

“Then confess!” I yell. “It was you, wasn’t it? You were the one who killed King Anders!

Olav laughs. First a slight chuckle, then gradually shaping in the screaming laughs of a madman. He bangs his fists on the desk, his hands covered in blood from holding his wound. He smears his blood-stained hands all over the witness stand, cackling as he does it. While this horrific scene plays before us, he starts… singing.

“Dette landet Harald berget… Med sin kjemperad…Dette landet Håkon verget… Medens øyvind kvad… Olav på det land har malet… Korset med sitt blod… Fra dets høye Sverre talte… Roma midt imot!”

“What’s he saying?” I ask Mark. 

“That’s the second verse of the Norwegian anthem,” he says. “It talks about kings of Norway’s past. Harald, Håkon, Olav, Sverre.”

“With my cross of blood,” Olav says, smiling wildly, “I will save this country from being ruled by bad people.”

“Stopp, Olav! Du skremmer meg!” Johan says, tears falling down his cheeks.

“It’s okay, Johan,” Ariana says, hugging the prince. I don’t even have time to question it before Olav starts speaking again.

“…I couldn’t let him live,” Olav says. He takes a deep breath, still clutching his side, and looks up as if to God. “It was three weeks ago. It had almost been 15 years since mother died, so I decided I had to avenge her death. I knew Andersen would be coming to Oslo, I was tracking flights in and out of Norway for the time around May 17th. This would be the first time he would be back here since he killed my mother, and I needed to kill him this time.

“I looked through the files to figure out how exactly it all went down so many years ago, when I discovered something horrible. I found my father’s letters corresponding with a certain woman. Her name was Helga Andersen, and the letters I found from her illustrated a horrible picture. It was my father that killed mother. My father, with the help of Andersen’s mother, set up an elaborate trap to kill Ellinor. Apparently it was to be in exchange for Magnus Andersen’s freedom.”

“And she tried to make me take the blame…” Andersen says.

“Helga was already dead by this point in my investigation,” Olav says. “She’s been dead for a long time. I couldn’t even get my revenge on her! But Anders… he was still alive. I had to kill him. He killed our mother! I couldn’t let him live anymore, knowing the truth. So I started planning a little scheme of my own. Poison my father. Try to frame it like a suicide. Then, I’d reveal the truth of 15 years ago to the press.”

“But then why did you have to frame Archibald Andersen for this?” Crowmack asks.

“Because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Olav says. “He apparently had a meeting with the king to discuss the case from 15 years ago on the 17th. Unfortunately, I had misjudged the dosage I gave to my father. He was supposed to die on the morning of the 17th, but it didn’t kill him until night. By that time, Andersen was supposed to have a meeting with the king soon, so I had to think quickly. I wore my father’s clothes and I threatened Andersen.I even attacked him with a dagger I found in the room. I thought if I was horrifying enough, it’d give the prosecution ample evidence to claim the motive of revenge. I had switched from trying to frame it as a suicide to making it a murder that Andersen committed.”

“But then something went wrong,” Mark says. “The dagger.”

“I was not expecting him to use it to defend himself, even after being stabbed. I was hoping his years abroad had turned him soft. But they hadn’t. He thought I was a serious threat, and stabbed me in the side. I fell down, he called emergency services, and I had to move quickly. When he had finally left the room, I grabbed the other dagger off the wall and stabbed my father with it. I put new clothes on him, I couldn’t let my blood end up at the crime scene after all. I moved his body to the adjacent room to make it seem the murder had happened there. I then locked the door to the room where the real murder took place. Eventually, I managed to return to my room where I was able to properly cover my wound and get changed into blood-free clothes. Then I returned to life as normal, acting as if nothing happened.”

“You were the head of the forensics team assigned to this case,” Mark says. “I assume this was in an attempt to tamper with the investigation?”

“Yes,” Olav says. “I admit it. I lied to the investigators, telling them that I had investigated the locked room and found nothing of note there.”

“How could you do that?” Johan yells. “I… I thought you… I thought we were royalty! To be respected and respectful! To be adored and adoring! To make the laws and follow them!”

“You’re really so surprised a Royal could commit murder?” Olav asks. “That’s what royalty is built on. That’s what our country was built on. We fought our way into becoming independent from Denmark. We fought our way to being independent from Sweden. Murder is common in politics, I don’t know why you’re so surprised!”

“Because you’re supposed to be better than that!” Johan yells, tears running down his face. “You… you’re supposed to be good! You’re supposed to be like the lion, brave and fierce!”

“Lions are predators, Johan,” Olav says. “A lion will kill a weaker animal, and eat them. Father was a weak man. And I’ve taken his place, a stronger man who can run this country how it needs to be run! Who fights for justice and peace! Who cares about everyone, who cannot be taken down by the likes of the defense! I am a KING! I CANNOT BE CHARGED WITH THIS CRIME! TO DO SO IS TO GO AGAINST THE VERY CONSTITUTION OF THIS COUNTRY!”

“What?” I ask, surprised.

“According to article 5 of the constitution,” Mark says, “the King cannot be accused of crime.”

“You… you planned this,” I say, looking at Olav. “You knew we couldn’t do anything about this, you’ve been playing this court like a fiddle!”

“I have always liked the fiddle,” Olav says. “Now, let’s end this trial, and you can all go back home to your countries and leave ours alone!”

“But… but…”

(Olav, he needs to pay for what he’s done! What he did to Andersen, what he did to his father! He can’t get away with this! But this is far, far beyond my pay grade.)

“OBJECTION!” Everyone stares at the person who yelled. It was Vanni, who had barged into the courtroom.

“Your highness!” Crowmack says. “What is your objection?”

“You won’t be getting away with this so soon, brother,” Vanni says.

“du har sagt nok!” Olav yells.

“On the contrary, Olav,” Vanni says. “I haven’t said enough.”

“What do you have to say?” Sahdmahdi asks.

“Last Storting,” Vanni says, smirking, “There was a vote to amend our constitution, letting the King be held responsible for his crimes like any other man!”

“Wh-what?” Olav says. “When did that happen?”

“In September of last year,” Vanni says. “You didn’t attend the Storting, so you wouldn’t know. And this amendment is looking to be ratified come the next Storting in… 4 months. Regardless of if we take you down now, you’ll get what’s coming to you eventually!”

“…what’s Storting?” I ask Mark.

“Yearly meeting to vote on new laws, essentially,” Mark explains. “Usually happens in September.”

“N-No!” Olav says. “I can veto, can’t I? You can’t stop me! I’m the goddamn KING!”

“It really doesn’t seem like you did all this just to avenge your mother anymore, does it?” I ask.

“It seems like you had ulterior motives,” Mark says. “More than vengeance.”

“Perhaps… a lust for power?” Simon says.

“May the goddess of justice have mercy on your soul,” Crowmack says.

“May the Holy Mother forgive you your sins,” Sahdmahdi says.

“May Jesus spare you,” I say.

“I don’t believe in God,” Simon says.

“GOD CHOSE ME!” Olav yells. “IT IS MY RIGHT TO RULE THIS COUNTRY. AND IT IS MY RIGHT TO USE MY POWER HOW I SEE FIT! AND IF I MUST KILL MY OWN FATHER TO SECURE IT, SO BE IT!”

“King Olav!” Vanni yells, and everyone goes quiet, even Olav. “You have two options! Surrender now, give up your royal title and go to prison for the rest of your life-”

“You can’t make me do that!” Olav yells.

“Or be branded as a maniac king who killed his own father and tried to frame innocents! To be brought down after the Storting in a very public and well-documented way! What will it be, brother? Step down quietly and be seen as a man who did what he believed was right even if he went too far, or delay the inevitable and be seen for the power hungry murderer you truly are? Make your choice now, the clock is ticking.”

“Alt…. Alt…” Olav says, running his once again bloodied hands along the desk. “Alt…” he tenses up his whole body, then looks up once again as if to God. “ALT FOR NORGE!”

Not even a moment later, Olav is crumpled on the ground in a small pool of his own blood coming from his wound.

“Get him to the hospital immediately!” Vanni yells, and several men come in and take him away. It’s chaos, and my head hurts.

Eventually, everything dies down.

“…Your highness?” Crowmack asks, but Vanni shakes her head.

“Majesty,” she says. “Olav has stepped down as King.”

“…Your majesty,” Crowmack says. “Whats the status of…”

“He’s stable,” Vanni says. “Physically, at least. Mentally, I believe he lost stability the moment he decided to murder.”

“…then I see no further reason to prolong this trial,” Crowmack says.

“I’ve been ready to end it all day,” Magnus mutters.

“Jeg er enig,” Erika says.

“The court hereby finds the defendant, Archibald Andersen…

NOT GUILTY

Court is adjourned.”

7:35pm

“I never want to do international court again,” I say when we’re all out in the lobby. “How does Sahdmahdi do it?”

“It’s not all bad,” Mark says. “Especially when you have a partner to kiss you when you’re done.”

(And speaking of such…)

“You did it!” Archie says, hugging Simon tightly. (Wow, he can hug people?) “I’m so proud of you, my lille hund.”

“What did you just call me?” Simon asks. “What’s a hund?”

“Don’t worry about it, hore,” Archie says, kissing his partner.

“Get a room!” Ariana yells, and Archie jumps.

“What happened to you vanting me to be in a relationship?” Archie asks, crossing his arms. 

“I’m glad I have a second parent,” Ariana says, “but that doesn’t mean I wanna see you making out with each- wait did you just say “what”?”

“Pardon?” Archie asks.

“I caught it too,” Mark says. We all stare at Archie.

“Why are you all staring at me?” He asks. “That’s very rude.”

“OH MY GOD YOU DROPPED THE W-V SWITCH!” Simon says. 

“What?” Archie asks.

“You just did it again!” Simon says. “You could’ve done that the whole time?”

“Ja, of course I could’ve,” Archie says. “I just didn’t.”

“YOU PRONOUNCED THE J CORRECTLY TOO-” Simon seems scandalized.

“Well, I kept them like they would be in Norwegian because if I didn’t I would lose that part of me,” Archie says. “At any point I could’ve gotten my Norwegian citizenship or heritage ripped away from me. So I clung to the language’s phonetics. But now that I can come and go as I please… I don’t have any reason to keep speaking like that.”

“It sounds weird, you speaking normally,” Ariana says.

“Yeah, it does,” I agree. 

“Vell it’s my voice and I’ll do vat I vant vith it!” Archie yells.

“Hey! It’s back!” Ariana says.

“I can’t win vith this family,” Archie sighs.

“Defense team?” A woman enters the lobby and approaches me. It’s Vanni.

“Your majesty,” I say, bowing. “Thank you for your help. Without you coming in at the last minute, Olav would likely never have stepped down.”

“Indeed,” Vanni says. “And now that he’s gone, I have a whole lot more paperwork to do…”

“I can help!” Johan says, startling me.

(Since when was he here?)

“Um… So I promised I’d explain why I was with the Prince after the case concluded,” Ariana says, and Archie shakes his head.

“It vas because you vere looking for the autopsy report,” he says. “I understand vy you couldn’t share that vith us.”

“Not… completely just for that reason,” Ariana says, and her cheeks start turning pink. At least I think they are, I can’t exactly tell. But it sure seems like that’s what would happen.

“Kjæreste?” Johan says, looking at Ariana. “Er du ok?”

“Kjæreste?” Andersen repeats, a mixture of dumbfoundedness and anger on his face. “Ariana… vat is happening?”

“What does “kjæreste” mean?” I ask.

“Um… so… uh…” Ariana says, fidgeting nervously. “How do I put this… um…”

“She is my boyfriend!” Johan says, smiling.

“Girlfriend,” Ariana corrects him.

“Ja!” Johan nods. “She is my girlfriend!”

“I need to go lay down,” Andersen says. “I fear I might faint or create another court case otherwise.”

“Congratulations,” I say to Ariana.

“How did that happen?” Simon asks. 

“Well he called me pretty,” Ariana says, “then he invited me over to the palace to talk about my father. But only a small bit of time was actually spent talking about Archie, most was him trying to figure out how to ask me if I was single and how long I was gonna be staying, etc. Then when there was suspicion cast on the nature of the King’s death, Johan offered to help me get access to the Royal Archives in return for him coming along. Then… well… um…”

“So really it was love at first sight?” I ask, and Ariana smiles sheepishly. I laugh. “Reminds me of me and-”

“Every happy relationship reminds you of you and Mia,” Simon interrupts.

“No, I was going to say me and Atmey,” I say. “Love at first sight for him, not quite for me.”

“We kissed!” Ariana blurts out, and I see Archie’s brow furrow even more than it already has.

“What’s the matter, Archie?” I ask, nudging him. “Do you suddenly hate straight people now?”

“It’s not that,” Archie says. “…I yust never expected this. It’s like something out of a Barbie movie.”

“You watch Barbie movies?” I ask, and he glares at me.

“Ariana happens to like them,” he snaps. “And vat kind of father doesn’t try to engage in his child’s interests?”

“I only hope you have better luck dating a prince than I did,” Simon tells Ariana. “Nahyuta… he was…”

“Not someone who feels romantic love,” someone says. It’s Nahyuta, and he’s smiling.

“Fuck off, Sad Monk,” Simon says, turning his head away from the other prosecutor.

“Congratulations, Attorney Andersen,”Sahdmahdi says. “And good work, Attorney Godot. Attorney Den. Prosecutor Blackquill.”

“My debt’s now been paid,” I say. 

“I said fuck off,” Blackquill scoffs. “Go find some other guy to annoy.”

“I am sorry for the way our relationship was handled,” Sahdmahdi says. “It wasn’t your fault, you know.”

“Yeah, it was yours,” Simon says. “Stringing me along for three months.”

“That wasn’t my intention,” Sahdmahdi says, remaining calm. “Please, allow me to explain-”

“We wouldn’t have worked out anyways,” Simon scoffs. “I can’t handle being with a man that doesn’t acknowledge his emotions.”

(And yet you’re dating Attorney Andersen… interesting.)

“Blackquill…” Sahdmahdi sighs.

“I don’t need your pity, Sad Monk,” Simon says. “Leave me the hell alone.”

SMACK!

Everyone goes quiet as we all look at the scene before us. Nahyuta Sahdmadhi, holding his hand up after slapping Simon Blackquill across the face.

“Blackquill could you cut me some damn slack? I was recovering from being in a fucking cult!” Sahdmahdi yells.

“…What?” Simon says, clearly shaken by the outburst. “Since when do you swear? Or slap people?”

“My religious beliefs and identity were being used against me to control me and turn me into a puppet of the state,” Sahdmahdi says, no longer calm and collected. “I wanted a sense of normalcy in my life after my aunt was executed, I didn’t know I couldn’t fall in love. Not everything is about you. I should’ve handled it better, but so should you. Now can we move past this like adults, or are you going to keep being a child? You’re an interesting person, I’d like to be friends. But if you can’t handle it, I’ll never talk to you again. And don’t go around telling people like His Honor that I’m some delusional man because I’ve kept my faith. You’re an embarrassment.”

“…wow,” Simon says. “How’d you know I told him about you?”

“He’s a gossip,” Nahyuta says. “You should know better than to share secrets with a gossip. And should know better than to be a bitch.”

“Woah,” Simon says. “Like I said, since when do you swear?”

“There’s nothing in the rules of Khurainism that forbids monks from swearing,” Nahyuta says. “I simply prefer to keep my mouth clean of the filth. But… I will dabble when necessary.”

“Sahdmahdi,” Andersen says, standing up and going to shake the prosecutor’s hand. “That vas a good jobb you did in there. Very respectable.”

“Tusen takk,” Sahdmahdi says, bowing slightly. “I apologize for my actions and words in court, you understand what my job entails.”

“You’re forgiven,” Andersen says. “It takes guts to do vat you do. I think ve agree on a great number of things. Vould you like to meet up sometime and chat? I have a feeling ve vould get along.”

“You might want to check in with your partner first,” Sahdmahdi says.

“…Sorry,” Simon says. “I… I’ve been an asshole.”

“That’s an understatement,” Andersen says. I shoot him a look, and he just glares back at me.

“Look, we can talk about all this later,” I say. “Right now, I have to go. I made reservations at a restaurant nearby to celebrate Andersen’s acquittal.”

“When exactly did you make the reservation?” Simon asks.

“Yesterday,” I say. “I knew we were going to win. I mean, it’s simple math. We had three of the best minds on this case. And Simon.”

“Hey!” Simon yells.

“Um… could I invite Johan?” Ariana asks. “I wanna spend as much time with him as I can since pappa and I have to go back home next week…”

“Sure,” I say. “He can use his status to pull some strings and get us a bigger table.”

“This was very “skibidi”!” Johan says, smiling.

“…what?”

“Ariana says that means “great”,” Johan explains. “It is Skibidi Ohio Rizz!”

Simon starts laughing, Andersen starts visibly cringing, and I just sigh and turn to the one responsible for teaching him these things.

“Ariana if you keep teaching him the wrong words for things, he’s not gonna trust you. I know from experience.”

“Sorry…” Ariana says. 

“So… I’m forever doomed to deal vith the royal family?” Archie asks.

“Pretty much,” Mark says. “Better than dealing with a royal pain like your sister.” His words are rude but there’s nothing but love in his expression when talking about Nor.

(I guess that’s just how their relationship is.)

“I’m sorry, I’m what?” Someone yells. It’s Nor, and she grabs Mark by the collar. Once again, nothing but love in her voice. “I am a delight, I’ll have you know!”

“Er det det, din terapeut sagde til dig?” Mark says, smiling. 

“Åh, luk den,” Nor says.

“Min elskede, der er noget vigtigt, jeg må fortælle dig,” Mark says, looking nervous. He glances at me.

“What?”

“How do you say it… encourage?” He asks. “Me?”

“What?”

“I’m going to tell her the thing!” Mark says.

“Huh?” I ask.

“Oh my god, Godot, you’re useless sometimes,” Simon says. “Mark. Go talk to your wife. Tell her your secret.”

“What secret?” I ask.

“Just forget it,” Simon says.

“…Okay?”

“So, are we going to the restaurant now?” Ariana asks.

“Yes!” Johan says. “Very “based” of you to invite me!”

“Ariana…” I sigh.

“Sorry!” Ariana says.

“Let’s go,” Simon says. “Come on, you big giraffe.”

“Don’t call me that,” Archie says.

“Why not?” Simon says. “You’re tall.”

“Giraffes are lean,” Archie says. “I am not.”

“It’s not about the body shape,” Nahyuta says. “You’re tall.”

“I do think it suits you!” Ariana says with a laugh. “Giraffe dad!”

“I am not a giraffe!” Archie yells.

“Oooh, are you gonna say it?” Simon asks.

“Say it! Say it!” Ariana chants.

“Go on, say it,” I say.

“OBJECTION!”

The end