Chapter Text
Miles wondered if this was how Wright had felt.
There was nowhere he wanted to be less than atop his horse, swiftly approaching Kurain manor- and yet here he was, drawn by some mysterious curiosity, some strange compulsion into that man’s orbit.
That man. Nick.
He still couldn’t quite wrap his head around it- the infamous Mr. Wright, his childhood friend, Nick- and yet the more he thought about it, the more sense it made. Miles had never had many friends as a child- his peers had always found him dull, stiff and tiresome, and the village children either avoided him out of deference for his title, or mocked him because of it.
Not Nick, though. Miles had hardly had a say in the matter of their friendship, and though their acquaintanceship had been brief, they had become quite inseparable by the end of it.
Before everything went wrong.
“We’re here!” Klavier called cheerily from up ahead, shaking Miles out of his morbid train of thought. The young man was practically bouncing in his saddle, a stark contrast to Ms. Skye, who was stationed directly to his left and had spent most of the ride from Netherfield complaining about the weather, her horse, her attire, Klavier’s attire, and anything else that happened to irk her.
“Finally,” She grumbled “That felt like hours.”
“I assure you, Skye- dono, it was not,” Blackquill replied with a smirk, looking rather regal sat atop a coal black horse, Taka perched neatly on one shoulder, a hood over her eyes. “One becomes very well acquainted with the passage of time in the klink. There is little else to do besides count the minutes, and thus I can easily assure you that that ride took less than half an hour.”
Skye leveled him with a cold, flat stare. “Did I ask, clock boy?” She snarled. Blackquill simply blinked cooly back, unaffected.
“Ach, enough! I can’t take the two of you bickering anymore,” Klavier groaned “We are here to have a nice evening and be polite guests, so if you would kindly try not to embarrass me in front of-”
“Your boyfriend?” Ema offered.
“Your paramour?” Simon proposed.
“Herr Justice,” Klavier gritted out irritably, though he had gone quite red about the ears “And his family. Please, just- try to be civil.”
“That’s what you’re doing, right? Being civil?” Ema grinned wolfishly. Simon snorted.
“So that’s what they’re calling it these days.”
Klavier glowered at them both, before clucking to his horse and trotting ahead, tossing his golden locks disdainfully over his shoulder as he led the way down the last gently sloping hill toward the estate.
The manor house itself was quaint, the limewash crackling slightly with age beneath a thick blanket of vines and ivy that crawled skyward across its surface. It gave the building personality, Miles thought; a rather welcoming, un-pretentious air that set him at ease slightly despite the dread pooling in his stomach at Wright’s impending presence.
It was this thought that brought to his attention the distinct lack of a welcome party. The house’s doors remained firmly shut, and there were no signs of stablehands to take their horses. Klavier and Ema had already dismounted, and were holding onto their reigns and glancing about, unsure what to do with the animals.
This issue was soon resolved when a soft, tremulous voice called out from behind them.
“Uhm… hello?” The young woman said, Shifting awkwardly on her feet. She had long, dark hair in twin braids, and a soft woolen capelet draped across her shoulders. A linen covered basket hung from the crook of one arm, and the other clutched a bundle of papers to her chest like a lifeline.
“Are you here for the show?” She asked, her voice small and timid. The little party shared a series of confused glances.
“The show-?” Skye repeated, perplexed.
“We… were invited to dine,” Klavier said after a moment, brow puckered and head cocked slightly to one side “Perhaps there was some mistake-”
“Oh! No no, I recognize you now- from the gala!” The young lady gasped “Mr. Gavin, right? You’re Apollo’s friend! He talks about you often!”
Klavier brightened visibly. “Does he?” He inquired. Ema groaned.
“Come with me,” The young lady said, suddenly seeming far more confident than she had moments prior “I’ll show you where to put your horses.”
Miles dismounted, then trailed behind his younger colleagues as they followed the young woman to Kurain’s stable- an old, dusty building that seemed better fitted to a storage shed than animal housing- though the Fey-Wright’s singular horse munched hay happily in a tidy corner, and seemed to have no complaints. The lady re-introduced herself as Ms. Juniper Woods, and Miles vaguely recalled seeing her on that fateful night, clinging to Ms. Cykes’ arm as she dashed across the ballroom toward Mr. Wright, and used Miles’ own words against him.
Once the horses had been put comfortably away, Ms. Woods led the way back outside, and the little party began to make their way back toward the front door when shouting stopped them in their tracks, echoing from behind the manor.
“Oh! They must be in the garden,” Ms. Woods said, changing course and unlatching a small picket gate. She hitched her skirts up to her ankles and stepped past it onto a well-worn cobblestone path, slightly overgrown with weeds and various wildflowers.
“This way!” She called cheerily over one shoulder. Klavier, Ema and Simon followed her without complaint, and after a moment’s hesitation, Miles let out a sigh of acceptance and set out after them.
It was a short walk, and pleasant- despite the unruly state of what Miles suspected had once been a flower garden. The way was scattered with interesting statues and shrines, all overgrown with moss and ivy, but for one- a memorial stone shaped like a comma with a hole through the middle. The area around it was neatly cleared, and various offerings of flowers, sweets and colorful bits of paper folded into various shapes had been arranged with painstaking care about its base. Miles tarried for a moment, struck with curiosity, and his stomach lurched uncomfortably as he read the plaque:
In Memoriam: Lady Mia Fey- beloved sister, mentor & friend.
He ducked his head and hastily caught up to the others, feeling rather like he had witnessed something not meant for his eyes.
Before long, they rounded the back of the house, and Miles found himself in a large, well-kept vegetable garden, neatly fenced off from the chaotic, tumbling flowers of the walking path. The ground was tilled in neat rows, each one marked at the end with a handwritten sign and a poorly-drawn depiction of the vegetable it stood for. The earth dark and spongy with water and fertilizer, various gardening tools propped lazily against a lone wheelbarrow, and in the midst of it all, stood Wright.
He was dressed in nothing more than a loose white blouse, breeches and a pair of large leather work boots caked in mud. His hair was disheveled, a wilted mockery of its usual style, and his face was streaked with dirt and sweat. His collar was undone, his sleeves rolled up and forearms bare and stained with earth, and he was shouting, his tone exasperated- though it admittedly took Miles a moment to comprehend his words, or to notice to whom they were directed.
In that moment, he couldn’t notice anything but Wright.
“No, don’t put the- Maya! Stop, don’t plant the cabbages there!” He groaned, raking both hands back through his already disheveled hair, damaging it irreparably. It still looked good, which Miles found incredibly annoying and quite unfair.
Lady Fey- who had been there the whole time, apparently, as had Ms. Cykes, who was happily breaking clods of dirt with a hoe at the far end of the garden- huffed irritably.
“Ugh, Nick! Stop being such a stickler! it makes the most sense to put the cabbage here, because lettuce and cabbage go together in a salad!”
“Everything goes together in a salad, Maya!” He snapped “They’re too hard to tell apart! Someone is going to try and harvest the lettuce and pick the cabbage before it's ready!”
“That’s what the signs are for, stupid,” Maya retorted “Which you should know, since you made them!”
“Junie!” Ms. Cykes interjected, bounding happily across the garden and throwing her arms around the young lady’s shoulders, startling the other two out of their argument and alerting them to the presence of visitors in the garden.
“You made it!” Ms. Cykes squealed “Do you have the script?”
Ms. Woods coughed distractedly into her fist as she nodded, passing the little bundle of papers to her friend, who flipped through them with excitement before at last registering the presences of four extra people in the garden.
“Mr. Gavin!” She exclaimed “And Mr. Edgeworth, Ms. Skye! And Simon!”
“Cykes-dono,” Blackquill responded with a polite nod, a smug tilt to his mouth. Ms. Cykes just scoffed and punched him in the arm, and Miles’ own mouth quirked as Simon tried to hide a wince.
“What are you all doing here?” Lady Fey- Lady Maya, rather- asked, leaning on a rake, one hand propped on her hips and a grin stretched across her face. She was dressed similarly to Wright, in a white poet blouse with purple breeches tucked into a worn pair of work boots. “Not that you’re not welcome, of course- who doesn’t love a surprise visit?”
Miles and his colleagues exchanged bewildered glances, but before any one of them could speak, Wright gasped, his eyes wide as realization dawned on him.
“Oh no,” He said in a hushed tone, slapping a dirty hand to his forehead “The dinner invitation.” He chuckled awkwardly, dragging his hand down his face “I completely forgot!”
There was a smudge of dirt on his left cheek where his hand had just been. Miles’ fingers itched to brush it away.
“Nick!” Lady Maya squawked, almost falling forward as the rake slipped out from under her “Are you serious? How did you forget?”
“It’s alright, Frau Fey, really!” Klavier said hurriedly “No harm done- we can always reschedule-”
“No no, wait, this is perfect!” Ms. Cykes interrupted, “They should stay! There’s enough snacks to go around, and Junie’s Magnum Opus deserves an audience!”
Ms. Woods blanched at this, her eyes going wide as she fumbled the basket in her hands. “Oh, Thena, I really don’t think-”
“Relax, Junie, it’s going to be great!” Ms. Cykes squeezed her shoulder reassuringly “Your script and costumes are genius, and we’ll do you justice, I swear! Come on, it’ll be fun!”
“She’s got a point, June!” Maya said encouragingly “You’ve worked so hard on this, it deserves to be seen! The show must go on!”
“Well,” The young woman hesitated, tugging nervously at the ends of her braids. She coughed into her fist once more, then sighed. “Alright…”
“YES!” Ms. Cykes cheered, leaping into the air before grabbing Ms. Woods’ arm with one hand, and Simon’s with the other. “This is going to be fantastico! Oh, Trucy’s going to be so excited!”
“Athena, why don’t you escort our guests inside?” Mr. Wright spoke up, dusting his hands on his trousers “Maya and I will get washed up, and then we’ll join you all in the parlor.”
“Sounds good, boss!” Ms. Cykes chirped “Follow me, everyone! The theater awaits!”
Miles’ associates complied easily- though Simon had little choice in the matter, his forearm still caught in Ms. Cykes’ vice like grip- but Miles himself hesitated, hanging back for a moment, some traitorous part of his brain desperate to remain in Wright’s presence, even as shockingly attired as he was.
“Dare I ask what all this script business is about?” He inquired. Wright grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief, and Miles’ chest warmed as he recalled that night in the kitchen, the atmosphere heavy with grief, and laughter in spite of it.
He felt breathless and heady and light all at once.
“You’ll see,” Wright said, which was infuriating, but Miles couldn’t really find it in himself to care. At least the man was speaking to him.
It was more than he deserved.
He sighed, accepting that this was all the explanation he was going to get, and gave a polite bow, before following his colleagues back down the garden path, sparing one more glance to the memorial stone as he passed it.
Klavier, Ema and Simon chatted pleasantly with Ms. Cykes and Ms. Woods while they walked, and soon they were back at the front door, Ms. Cykes shoving the door open with her shoulder, still clinging to Simon’s arm as though she thought he’d run if she let go.
“Trucy! Pearly!” She bellowed into the house “You’ll never guess who’s here!”
Twin shrieks of excitement sounded, followed by earth-shaking stomps barreling down the stairs, and the two young ladies careened into view.
“Juniper!” Trucy squealed “Do you have the script?” She gasped, eyes widening as she caught sight of the little party gathered at the door.
“Mr. Klavier?” Pearl gasped “Mr. Edgeworth! And Ms. Ema and Mr. Simon!”
“Frauleins!” Klavier greeted them enthusiastically, his brow furrowing as he took in their attire. “I… wish I had known this was a dress party!”
“It’s not,” Said Ms. Fey, who was wearing a floor length Tudor gown, her hair done up neatly beneath a french hood. Ms. Wright, who was dressed in a deep blue cape and a wide brim hat with an ostrich feather in the band- not a far cry from her usual attire, but for the small mustache drawn onto her upper lip in ink- bounced excitedly in place, hands clasped behind her back.
“Come in, come in!” She said “Here, I’ll take your coats! Make yourselves comfortable, We’ll be starting soon!”
“May I ask, Fraulein, what will you be start-”
“Polly!” She shrieked, her hands cupped around her mouth, interrupting Klavier and causing the entire party to wince. Ms. Cykes released Simon in order to clamp her hands over her ears, and Ms. Woods squeezed her arm reassuringly.
“What?” A loud, familiar voice boomed from upstairs.
“Your gentleman caller is here!” Trucy sang, and she and Ms. Fey snickered, as did Ema Skye. Klavier blushed slightly and pretended to inspect his shoes.
A series of grumbles and loud thumps on the staircase. “My what? Trucy, I don’t have any-”
Mr. Justice stepped into view, fidgeting with the buttons on his waistcoat, and immediately froze, his eyes widening in what Miles could only assume was abject horror. Trucy and Pearl both gasped with delight. Ema choked on her spit, and Blackquill politely excused himself and stepped back outside, where his roaring laughter could be heard even once the door was shut. Klavier simply gawked.
“No,” Mr. Justice breathed “This cannot be happening.”
“Wow, Junie!” Athena gushed, stepping toward Mr. Justice, lifting his arms to admire the costume, which consisted of hose, puffed breeches and a tailored overcoat, complete with an Elizabethan ruff collar.
“You’ve completely outdone yourself!”
Ms. Woods ducked her head bashfully. “You really think so?”
“I’m going back upstairs,” Mr. Justice said thoughtfully “Where I’m going to throw myself out of my bedroom window and fall to my death.”
“Ah, I wouldn’t,” Klavier said sympathetically, doing his best to school his face into a neutral expression “Unless you want your ghost to be stuck wearing that forever.”
Mr. Justice sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “What are you doing here, Klavier?”
“We were invited to dine,” Klavier replied “However, Herr Wright neglected to inform us of the evening’s… theme.”
“It’s not a theme,” Mr. Justice groaned, pinching his brow “It’s Talent Night.”
“Mr. Wright forgot,” Athena informed him with a shrug, and Justice rolled his eyes and tilted his head skyward.
“Of course he did,” He muttered darkly “Why wouldn’t he?”
“What’s talent night?” Ema inquired, having miraculously recovered from her deadly coughing spell.
“At the end of every month, we have a little review!” Trucy chirped “Each person puts together an act, and performs it for everyone else!”
“We all sit on pillows on the parlor floor and eat snacks,” Ms. Fey informed politely “It’s like an indoor picnic.”
“I simply cannot believe,” Klavier huffed incredulously, turning his accusatory gaze on Mr. Justice “That you were going to perform cabaret, and you weren’t even going to invite me? I thought we were friends, Herr Justice!”
“It is not cabaret,” Mr. Justice replied, crossing his arms defensively, his face decidedly red “That word has negative connotations. It’s Mr. Wright’s way of making sure Pearl and Trucy are actually learning things- and I was trying to spare you.”
Klavier grinned wickedly, quirking an eyebrow and looking his friend up and down appraisingly. “Are you certain it was me you were trying to spare?”
Mr. Justice glowered at him. “Give me your coat and go sit down, Klavier,” He grumbled. The blond complied laughingly, disappearing into the parlor with Mr. Justice trailing behind him. Ema was hot on their heels, the subject of snacks having piqued her interest, and Simon was soon to follow, having returned from his outdoor excursion and rejoined Ms. Cykes and her companion.
Soon, Miles and Ms. Wright were the only two left in the foyer. She rocked back and forth on her heels and regarded him expectantly.
“Hello, Mr. Edgeworth,” She said pleasantly.
He gave a short bow. “Hello, Ms. Wright.”
“Trucy, remember?” She corrected him “May I take your coat?”
He surrendered it, and she hung it carefully with the others, bundled precariously atop an overburdened coat rack, a small jumbled mountain of shoes strewn haphazard across the floor below.
He nodded toward it. “Need I-?”
She waved him off. “Don’t worry about it. Daddy’s a bit of a neat freak, but we need to sweep anyway. C’mon, I’ll escort you to the parlor!”
The parlor had been, for all intents and purposes, transformed. The floor was scattered with a patchwork of blankets and cushions, the tables cluttered with twinkling candles, and two large quilts draped across what appeared to be a clothesline in the midst of it all, creating makeshift curtains. The young people dispersed themselves about the room, chatting pleasantly in groups of twos and threes. Lady Fey had made her reappearance, free of mud and now dressed in sparkling, floor length robes and a long, white false beard that she had to keep tugging into place as she conversed amiably with Ms. Skye. Miles was reminded of a Judge he knew once.
He found himself anxious for the re-emergence of the final member of the party, both curious and petrified of what ridiculous monstrosity of costuming that man might choose to make a fool of himself in.
He was both surprised, relieved and somewhat disappointed when he rejoined them, distinctly costumeless, his shabby blue waistcoat freshly pressed, and collar done up neatly. Like his daughter, the only changes to his appearance seemed to be a small, pointed mustache drawn on his upper lip, and a black top hat that looked as though he had seen better days. There was a cane hooked over his forearm that swung slightly as he walked, his back straight and chin held high.
Conversation in the room dwindled as he entered, all eyes following him to the center of the parlor, where he poised himself with his chest puffed out, head tilted to show his strong profile as he crossed his ankles and leaned lazily on the cane, now in one hand, the other shoved casually into his pocket.
“Hit it, Maya!” Athena called gleefully through a tube of rolled up paper, perched on a barstool sloppily labeled “director”.
Maya did. She lit a small, peculiar looking lamp positioned on a nearby tea table, and through some miracle- though the true explanation was more than likely several conveniently placed mirrors- a blinding beam of light flashed from the device.
Wright did not so much as flinch when the spotlight hit him, and Miles found himself staring as Trucy took hold of his sleeve, tugging him gently down onto one of the many cushions arrayed about the space.
“Come on, Mr. Edgeworth! It’s starting!” She hissed with excitement, and he sank reluctantly to the floor beside the young lady, who promptly passed him a bowl of something small, white and fluffy.
“Popcorn?” He inquired, surprised. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had popcorn.
“Yep!” Trucy replied cheerily “We ran some tests, and it causes the least amount of harm when thrown at the performers.”
Miles blanched. “I beg your-“
“Ladies and gentlemen!” Wright’s voice boomed abruptly, his arms spread wide, the crooked grin across his face somehow wider. “Guests and thespians! You could have been anywhere in the world tonight, but you chose to be here!”
“Objection! That is blatantly untrue!” Mr. Justice called, and was immediately shushed by his peers.
“Except Apollo, who is being held here against his will!” Mr. Wright amended in that same theatrical tone. The room tittered with laughter.
“Welcome, one and all, to the greatest event Kurain- and the world at large- has ever seen! Magic, splendor, wonder, amazement-“
“Stop saying synonyms!” Lady Fey heckled, hurling a handful of popcorn at the makeshift stage.
“-All at your fingertips, for one night only!” Wright continued, unphased. “Welcome, one and all… to Talent Night!”
The room erupted with cheers, and Wright doffed the dilapidated top hat and gave a sweeping bow before returning it to its rightful position atop his head.
“Now,” He said in his normal tone, clapping his hands once before rubbing them together, his smile wide with predatory glee. “Who’s up first?”
After a few moments deliberation, it was decided that Ms. Woods’ production would be the first to take the stage. Arguments that it should be saved for the finale were swiftly shot down by Mr. Justice’s staunch refusal to wear his ruffles for a single moment longer than necessary.
Soon, the curtains were drawn and the actors obscured behind them. The room was silent, but for the whispered squabbling of Ms. Wright and Mr. Justice, and Miles felt his mouth turn upwards at the corner as he thought of Franziska.
“And… action!” Ms. Cykes barked, Ms. Woods now seated beside her on a chair with a notecard labeled “writer” stuck to it, her eyes wide as she leaned forward in anticipation. The curtains lifted, and the show began.