Professor Layton and the Angel's Prophecy

Part One: The Budding Inspectors

It was an unusually solemn day in London. Solemn, with a hint of allure, thought the Professor, sipping at his tea. A small grin formed on his face as he watched the army of rough grey clouds creep over the horizon and carry their promise of rain.

Yes, solemn he mused once more, taking in the last hints of dying scarlet light as it fell over the skyscrapers of London, over the solitary Houses of Parliament and finally trickling through the window to cast a rather beautiful filter over the Professor's many books and relics of civilisations past. Of course, the light was undoubtedly awe-inspiring, so one would naturally assume it was the encroaching weather that had the Professor settling his mind on solemn. No, that wasn't it, however.

There was a feeling in the air, a scattered array of tiny, almost indescribable sensations that all combined to create this one great sense of unease. Unease... The Professor brooded over this word too. So, there was a solemn mood about, creating unease, though the Professor knew not why. Perhaps-

A knock on his office door startled him from his thoughts. Clearing his throat, he gently placed his teacup down on the saucer and turned his attention towards the door.

"Come in," he called politely. It was almost seven, so perhaps it might seem odd that he would have visitors at this late hour. However, he was after all, a University Professor. Students always came to him at all odd hours of the day. And help them he would. But the Professor doubted the person at the door was one of them. No, for there was a much more frequent visitor than that.

As he expected, his trusty apprentice entered, but more than that, the young man was the Professor's adopted son. The Professor had hoped to have children of his own, and looking over in the corner of his office, he smiled fondly at the red and blue striped sweater - a gift from a close friend of his. He didn't have much of a taste for it, but should he ever find himself with a son, perhaps they would like it. Yes, once he had that chance before, to have children of his own, with the love of his life, however, when that happiness was lost, he took great pride in the fact that he found a daughter in Flora Reinhold. And then again two years prior when Clive had helped to take down Oliver and his plot to cast the world into a false dream. A thrilling tale, to be told later I'm sure.

Clive should have been in prison now, where he had escaped from after his quest to destroy London, but because of his involvement, and the Professor's high esteem, he was released early, and happily accepted the great Hershel Layton as his father. Now he was his right-hand man, the instigator of adventures, the... Clive would go on. The Professor would have to calm him.

Clive took two great bounds forwards before thrusting a piece of paper in front of Hershel's face.

"Look here," he exclaimed proudly. "Another case for Professor Layton and Clive Layton. Oh that still gets me."

The Professor smiled fondly at Clive's giddiness at the changed surname, and then he took the paper from his son's hand. Just as Clive was still not use to the idea of their new relationship, so too could it be said for Hershel himself. He often referred to Clive as his apprentice rather than son. A son and a daughter. Not quite the way he had imagined he would find himself a father, but he didn't care. He truly felt blessed.

Glancing down at the report, he felt a small twinge of fear. It only grew deeper as he reached the bottom.

"several prominent archaeologists have been reported missing..." he mumbled. "... Professor Stein, Doctor Chenegra,.. Dean Delmona!"

"Precisely!" Clive beamed, meeting the harrowed eyes of Hershel. His expression grew stern to match the Professor's then. This was the part where things got serious.

"But, Dean Delmona is taking a short leave of absence!" Hershel exclaimed, recalling just a few nights past, as he knocked on the Dean's door to have a chat, as old friends usually did. Instead, he found a solitary piece of paper on his desk. "His note...."