Paris Fic Excerpt: Von Karma

[kingmobuk]

 I've been tidying this section up a bit and thought I'd post a chunk here as it ties in neatly with the CUCKOO short that I wrote last week. This, of course, is from Miles' POV.

It was much later, long after the man accused of killing his father had been acquitted, that Miles had met Gregory Edgeworth’s last courtroom opponent.  Miles was still at the hospital, sitting at the table in the playroom, reading one of the law books that someone had brought him from his father’s house.  He’d been kept in for evaluation and monitoring but after six months they didn’t seem to know what to do with him.  He’d soon learned the correct things to say to the counsellors so that they left him alone. Away from their sessions, he withdrew into his books and into his own head. He had nowhere to go, no one who could visit. And then Manfred Von Karma came.

 

Miles recognised him immediately of course – he was impossible to forget – tall, gaunt, with an old-fashioned style of dress and piercing blue eyes. Miles had only seen him once before - at the trial before his father died. The two attorneys had argued across the courtroom and he recalled anger, violence and raised voices. But like almost everything else from that day, it was vague, sketchy, and the words spoken were indistinct, as if being heard underwater.

 

Miles stood up, shyly, to acknowledge his visitor. Von Karma introduced himself with a slight bow of the head, clicking his heels in a very formal way. Then he seated himself in a chair opposite, manicured hands resting openly on the table. Those piercing eyes scanned Miles, scanned the book he was reading, and Miles thought he saw a twitch of approval.  “Criminal Law? Excellent choice of reading matter.  But I would expect no less from the son of Gregory Edgeworth. I only wish your father had been a prosecutor, so that we might have been colleagues instead of enemies.”

 

It was the first time that anyone apart from his counsellors and the police had spoken to him directly about his father. Everyone else avoided the subject, letting their sentences end in silent embarrassment. But this man was different. He looked straight at Miles when he spoke. He didn’t treat him like a child or an invalid.  For the first time in months Miles felt a spark of interest in something other than his books as his eyes took in the turquoise tiepin, the stern eyebrows and the faint scar that curved down one cheek.

 

“I wanted to extend my condolences to you, on the death of your father. And I wanted to apologise on behalf of the Prosecutor’s Office for that unforgivable sham of a trial.”

 

Miles’ eyes dropped back to his book.  “I … still don’t really understand what happened,” he said in a small voice.

 

“What happened is that a guilty man will remain unpunished because a defence attorney was allowed to spout a pack of lies in court,” Von Karma spat the words. “I would never have allowed that to happen. The prosecutor deserves to be fired. Your father deserved better, don’t you agree?”

 

There was a pause, and when Miles looked up again, the man was still watching him, impassively.  He felt himself blushing at the scrutiny. “Y-yes. Of course.”

 

Von Karma inclined his head, very slightly, seeming satisfied with the answer.

--

 The long driveway curved away towards the house, dusted with half-frozen snow and lined with leafless trees.  Miles rolled the car forward, easing it up the slope until the front of the building came into view.  He still found the Von Karma house an imposing sight, just as he had that first time, fifteen years ago.  Built centuries ago as a hunting lodge, the house had looked enormous to him when he was a child. Now it didn’t look quite so big, but it was still impressive; the wintry dressing of ice and frost gave the building a slightly fairytale appearance, as if it belonged on a greetings card.

 

Manfred Von Karma had been a different man to his father - stricter, harsher, more distant. But he had provided a home, education and support for over a decade. Even since his trial, where it had been made abundantly clear that Von Karma’s motives had never been altruistic, Miles could not help but think of this house as his home. Now, however, that thought brought a rush of shame on its heels as he wondered how he could ever have been so completely deceived.

--

Von Karma had finally looked away, inspecting the room and noting every detail, but now he turned his eyes once more onto Miles’ face. “I have been speaking to your great aunt.  I understand that she is unable to offer you a home, but is unwilling for you to be placed in the care of the state. I agree with her. I have seen your academic record, and I can see that your father spent a lot of time teaching you about the law.” He tapped the book in front of Miles with a long forefinger. “It would be an offence to his memory to allow that education to be squandered.”

 

Miles just stared back, uncomprehendingly.

 

“I can help you to become a great a lawyer like your father.  Your great aunt has given me permission to ask you if you would like to come and live in my house, in Germany. It would be a new start, away from the bad memories.  I will teach you everything I know. All I ask for in return is that you devote yourself to your studies without question.”

 

Miles’ eyes widened. “But – aren’t you a prosecutor?”

 

“Yes.” Von Karma’s eyes did not flicker. They pinned Miles where he sat, looked at him and through him.  “I will teach you to be the best prosecuting attorney in the world. One day, your father’s case will be reopened. Then, it will be up to you to ensure that justice is served.”

 

“But … I want to be a defence attorney …”

 

“A worthy ambition for a child.  But you are no longer a child, Miles Edgeworth. You are your father’s only son, and as such you have a duty to his memory above all else. And that duty is to equip yourself to seek justice for his murder, not to defend the kind of men that committed this crime.”

 

Von Karma rose from his chair with the casual air of someone who had merely stated what should be obvious to anyone. He walked over to the window, calmly observing the view outside, hands clasped behind his back.

 

Miles sat there, slightly bewildered, eyes downcast, unsure what to do.  Germany seemed like a million miles away and even numbed as he was, a twinge of uncertainty nagged him at the prospect of abandoning the idea of following in his father’s footsteps.  But perhaps this man – this lawyer – was right. Perhaps he did have a greater duty now.

 

“Will you – help me to do that, sir?” He asked without raising his eyes from the book in front of him.

 

Unexpectedly, Miles felt the gentle pressure of a hand on his shoulder and when he glanced up, surprised, Manfred Von Karma was looking down at him with a half-smile and a nod. The familiar gesture of approval that Miles had craved from his father and never thought he would feel again brought an equally familiar and almost painful response from his heart.

 

“I accept, sir. Thank you.”

 
“Excellent. We will leave for Germany at the end of the week.  I will make arrangements with your aunt.”

God Von Karma is such a bastard.