Professor Layton vs Phoenix Wright: The Frigid Melody

The Frozen Court pt. 3

The judge slammed his toffee hammer on his lectern, silencing the chattering crowd.

"Court will now reconvene," he declared to the hall, and he turned to look to the prosecution. "Ms Skellig, is your witness ready to testify?"

"Indeed he is, Your Honour," Michaela replied, smiling contently while coiling her hair around her finger, "and I believe that no doubt shall remain by the time he has finished, so I request that you all please allow me to welcome Mr Wrenkley Oldfart to the stand."

Beside the Professor, Luke pressed his cap down onto his head. His brows were furrowed in grim determination.

"Well," he said, "time to see how they're planning to do this."

Phoenix sighed.

"I swear, if it's what I think they're doing..."

He trailed off at the sound of bickering from the hall's entrance; Layton looked over just in time to see the double doors swinging open. The innkeeper – Jack Hill, if he was remembering correctly – was standing beside those doors and waving something into the room in a style reminiscent of a traffic cop.

And then they came into view.

A quartet of young men carried a brass-framed bed into the hall, its legs propped over their shoulders. Layton recognised the librarian, Mr Edwards, frowning in annoyance and brushing the corner of a white bedsheet out of his face.

The gallery exploded into gasps and whispers of astonishment, rippling as the villagers gradually became aware of just what was happening in this courtroom.

"Oh my god..." muttered Luke, and Layton heard a slap of hand against face.

"What?!" cried Trucy, eyes wide in alarm.

"My word!" Layton couldn't avoid his own exclamation of shock, and he adjusted the brim of his hat in case, for whatever reason, it was altering what he was seeing.

Phoenix, meanwhile, let out his longest and most exhausted groan of the entire morning so far.

"I thought we asked for Wrenkley Oldfart," he said, "not the goddamn Pharaoh of the Nile."

With the help of Jack's co-ordination, the bed was slowly, steadily lowered to the floor, finally landing on the concrete with a series of clacks and thumps. Only once it had been rested did the bed's resident finally become visible: an elderly man, balding and thin and wrapped in a dressing gown, buried in a mountain of floral-sheeted pillows and laying still as though he was asleep.

The moment the carriers moved away from the bed, Nosie rushed to its resident's side and clasped his hand in her own skinny fingers.

"Oh Wrenkley!" she cried. "My darling! I'm so sorry to have left you at home all by yourself for such a long time! Tell me, how are you?"

The old man – Wrenkley Oldfart, here in the flesh at long last – stirred slowly, indicating that perhaps he had been asleep until now. He opened his eyes weakly and looked up at the taxidermy-clad woman who stood beside his bed, clutching his hand and leaning over his blanketed form.

"...Nosetta?" His voice was hoarse and quiet. "That you, love?"

"I'm right here, my sweet!" cried Nosie. "I shall stay by your side no matter what!"

She paused just long enough to throw a scathing glance in the defence's direction, and Layton did his best not to show any reaction to her ferocity.

"Please tell me," she continued, "how badly does it hurt?"

"Oh... it's very painful..." Mr Oldfart rubbed his stomach, grimacing in agony. "...my stomach, it hurts... so terribly..."

He really was right there in his bed, wasn't he? They truly did carry that massive piece of furniture all the way up that hill and into this hall for everyone to see.