Professor Layton and the Angel's Prophecy

The Angel's Message

Hershel took a few tentative steps forward, as though Don Paolo's eyes would suddenly spring open and the man would leap at Hershel, a mad flare in his eyes. Certainly, the men were in good terms ever since their misunderstandings were cleaned up, but now he was an Angel. He aimed a gun at Hershel's friends. Something was clearly amiss with him.

While the unconscious Angel remained in slumber, Hershel stopped by his side and studied the man carefully. Bags around his eyes, his skin a little more stretched than usual. Regardless, this was most definitely the self-appointed ex-rival of Hershel Layton. And now he was falling into old habits perhaps?

Grosky entered then, snorting.

"None of us can quite make sense of it, not matter what angle we spin it. It was my understanding Don Paolo was of a gentle disposition now."

Hershel glanced at the Professor, blinking once. "That is correct, Chief Inspector. I have no idea what could have turned his mind back towards darkness."

"Hmm..."

The Chief Inspector mused over the whole predicament a few seconds longer before excusing himself. Hershel took a seat then, facing the man who had been such a mystery in his life. A jealous fellow student in Gressnheller, to the self-titled archrival of Professor Layton, to a man struggling with Claire's loss in an entirely different manner on their previous adventure. He had taken the guise of Dimitiri Allen, too afraid to show his true face. As if the great mastermind Don Paolo couldn't show any signs of weakness.

Hershel had spoken to the man in great length after that adventure, the two helping to cope with things. Don Paolo understood his jealousy was a hindrance, and had been stopping him from living his life, except in one regard – something which Hershel enlightened him to. Don Paolo was an inventor, and though most of his contraptions were made to harm Hershel, many could be used in other ways. From upgrades to everyday items to ingenious contraptions like his helicopter machines and floating bubble craft. Don Paolo had promised to go on and make sure his inventions helped the world. That was how Hershel had left him.

Now...

Sighing, Hershel closed his eyes and let out a long, ragged sigh. This was all becoming rather too stressful. Old friends returned, though not in the way he would have liked. The Ascot and the Marauder family were both attacked by the Angels; Flora and Clive were almost shot – and it was his fault for bringing them – and now Don Paolo was a villain once more.

There was a knock on the door behind him, and Hershel turned to see Flora standing with that grace she had always carried, yet had matured as she did. She really was a fine young lady.

"May I come in?" she asked quietly, putting her hands together, resting them across her dress.

"Of course, Flora. You needn't ask."

Nodding, she entered and took the seat beside Hershel. A long while passed before she rested her hand in his and gave it a squeeze of reassurance. Hershel raised an eyebrow, cheeks reddening.

"You've always had everyone else's back," she said in that same gentle tone. "But now you need someone at yours."

"And that shall be you, Flora?"

A voice started Hershel from the doorway.

"And I, Professor," Clive smiled. Stepping in, Hershel offered him his seat, but he declined.

"I'll stand."

Nodding, Hershel took his seat once more and turned to inspect the two people that meant the most to him. Hershel took Flora's hand now, and gave her a reassuring squeeze of his own.