Aviary Attorney Part #21

Part 21: The Rebels

: Here for some shopping, are we?

: Actually, I was thinking of Mademoiselle Cygne. I know she’s not here now, but the area just reminds me of her.

: Oh, the flower seller. I think she moved away, Falcon. Didn't she say she was visiting her parents in Vienna?

: Oh yeah. Right. Let's move. We've wasted enough time here.

Louis Armstrong Ochi Chernyie (Dark eyes)

: Calm down, Sparrowson. I'm just here for information. Taverns are the first place people go to moan about the government. Therefore they are perfect rebel breeding grounds.

: Oh, that makes sense.

: Ah, it’s you two! What will it be today? Wine or beer?

: I'm afraid it's just questions for now, Madame Quanelle.

: We're looking for a man called the Croque-Monsieur. Have you seen him?

: Hmm... no, that name doesn't sound familiar at all.

: Okay. Have you heard any of your patrons bad-mouthing the government?

: Ah... sic?

: That’s true. But has anyone stood out?

: Well...

: Now, I'm not saying they are or they aren’t rebels, but they're doing far too much talking, and not enough drinking, if you know what I mean.

: I think I do. Thank you, madame. Let's see, where to go..

: The card players have the exact same dialog they had the last time around. No clues if you win. They're basically there in case you haven't won any of the previous cases, haven't negotiated an advance with Volerti, and still want to pay your way to victory this time around. Anyways, we're headed for the drinking room.

: Pierro, you know that she hates being called “mademoiselle”. You're going to get stuck with guard duty again.

: Oh, right you are. “The madame” it is, then. Wait, she ain't married, is she? So why do we have to call her “madame”?

: Why don't you ask her yourself?

: No way! She would straigh' up eat me alive if I asked that directly!

: Wait. Hush up. Do you smell that? It smells like...

: Eavesdroppers.

: What were you two just talking about, before we rudely interrupted?

: Hmm. Well, I would like to include you in our conversation. But to be perfectly honest, I don't think that's any of your business.

: As a matter of fact, it is our business. You see, we want to fight alongside the rebels.

: We... we do?

: Listen 'ere, you-

: Hold on, Pierro. Let me handle this.

: Now, I don't know who you are, but I do know that your line of work involves a fair amount of investigation. Therefore, I must assume that you're some sort of detective or prosecutor. Am I far off the mark?

: ... Well...

: As I thought. Now, I don't claim to be part of any secret rebel alliance. I’ve never heard of such a thing. But if I were a member of any such hypothetical group, I would not allow the entry of a man of the law like yourself. Understood?

: ...Damn. That’s a solid shutdown.

: Yeah. I’ll try asking something else. Monsieur, have you heard of a man called-

: (There's a slight chance that these guys might be rebels, right?) (So if we ask directly, they might be scared off.)

: (Good point. I'll try to keep it subtle.)

: Monsieur, I see you are carrying a rifle.

: Evidently.

: Who manufactured it?

: See? It's American, from the Springfield Armory. Model 1812. Percussion lock firing mechanism.

: An American musket, you say? That's certainly quite special. It must have been hard to procure.

: It's true that you can't buy guns of this quality from standard street sellers, but if you know the right people. (sic, no "...")

: Please go on.

: Well...

: Ok.

: “The Book of Judges”? What is this, some sort of law book?

: The books subject is not important. Just take it.

: Oh, I see. It's THE Book of Judges, from the Bible. Old Testament stories of God smiting people and stuff. I appreciate the gift, monsieur, but I’m not religious.

: Nor am I.

: Then why are you-

: Just take it, ya idiot!

: Sentiment seconded.

: Code phrases?

: Pierro, please. I'm trying to be low-key, and I can't do that if you're mouthing off with that big beak of yours.

: Try to forget what my friend said. Just... with a little searching, and with the contents of that Good Book, you should be able to get what you desire.

: Is... is that a religious metaphor?

: No, monsieur. I'm being very literal.

[{The Book of Judges}] has been added to your evidence folder.

: Well, thank you very much for the gift, monsieur. But to be honest, I have no idea how this is supposed to lead me to our gun salesman.

: Ah. I see. Well, I hear that there is an excellent friar who performs Bible readings at Notre-Dame Cathedral. Perhaps, if you show the man your new book, he will be able to find you a particularly spiritual passage.

: Are you sure that this isn’t all a religious metaphor? I feel like you’re trying to convert me.

: I assure you, I’m as secular as they come, monsieur.

: Holy shit, we're rapidly approaching Phoenix Wright levels of cast stupidity.

: Friar at Notre-Dame Cathedral. Thank you, monsieur. I'll make a note.

: Was there something else that you wanted?

: Thank you for your assistance, messieurs.

: ... You two seem like decent fellows. You shouldn't get involved in this rebellion business. Just... do whatever you need to do with the Croque-Monsieur, and get out of Paris. That's what a smart person would do.

: I appreciate the advice, monsieur.

: Yep. Let's make a move.

Scaffolding lines much of the crumbling outer wall. Unperturbed, a handful of devotees are silently kneeled in thought. (sic?)

: Here for a little prayer, are we, Falcon? I had no idea you were the religious type.

: Don't be silly. I'm following up on Fontaine’s lead. We must find our mystery friar..

: Do you think it's that hunched-over fellow over there? I bet it’s him. He looks super suspicious.

: It could be. Let’s show some tact-

: ... Do you know what tact is, Sparrowson?

: Are you here to confess your sins? Or perhaps you wish to join in our services?

: Actually, friar, we're here because-

: That friar... he looks eerily familiar...

: I don't see it.

: What?! Am I going mad? How can you seriously not see it?!

: Your friend appears to be upset.

: Don't mind him. He's just in a huff because he thinks you look like this judge we once met.

: Oh, good. I'm not going mad.

: Friar, would you say that you had a good relationship with Romulus?

: We were close. But as you may have heard, he got in trouble with the law recently. I haven't seen him in weeks.

: I see. I didn't mean to pry.

: It's no trouble. But tell me, why are you here, my brothers?

: Oh, right. Well, we have a couple of questions.

: What's with all the scaffolding? Is some sort of construction work going on?

: That's right. A little repair. A little renovation.

: But now we’re well on our way to restoring this holy place to its former glory.

: The Cult of Reason... the religion of Christianity... Hey, Falcon. What's the difference between a religion and a cult?

: Don't be rude, Sparrowson.

: Ah, don't worry, my brother. I understand how it is. To a young person, all ideologies look like gobbledygook in different packaging don’t they?

: Pretty much.

: Then maybe you'll come to learn the differences as you grow up. I promise, some ideologies are worth following to the very end. But let’s not talk any more about cults and ideologies. Did you want anything else?

: Friar, we have something that we would like to show you.

: Please take a look at this.

: I'm sorry. This means nothing to me.

: Oh. Well, let me try something else.

: Ok, let's...

: Nope. Despite what would be suggested by any semblance of logic AND what Falcon just said, presenting the wrong item just ends the day on the spot. Bulllllllllllllllllllllshit. Let's rewind and do it right this time.

: Could you take a look at this? We heard that you could give, uh... special passage readings.

: Ah, I see. You have your own copy of the Book of Judges. I think you will find chapter 15, Verse II to be particularly enlightening.

: Let's see... chapter 15... verse II... This chapter follows the journey of Samson, the heroic judge with divine strength.

: Please could you read the passage? (sic for lack of commas)

: Okay. “Three thousand men of Judah went to the top of the rock Etam. They said to Samson, ’Knowest thou not that the Philistines are rulers over us? What is this that thou hast done unto us? And Samson said unto them, 'As they did unto me, so have I done unto them.”

: “As they did unto me, so have I done unto them.” A beautiful sentence, Wouldn't you agree?

: It's poetic. A beautiful summation of justice.

: You understand the passage! That's delightful to hear. Yes, Samson was a great judge.

: Shophets were to be admired and feared. They made their own judgments and dispensed their own punishments. Ah, I'm starting to ramble, aren’t I? Okay, let's get back to the point. The key word of the day is “Etam”. That’s the name of the cave where Samson hid. The Rock of Etam.

: Etam. Got it; I’ll make a note.

: It's like a backwards “mate”. But I’m confused. What do we do with this “key word”?

: That is for you to learn on your own, my brothers. You appear to be intelligent. I am sure that, if you put your faith in the right people, you can uncover the truth.

: We'll see what we can do.

: Is there anything else I can help you with today? Perhaps you wish to make a confession?

: I think we’re done here. Thank you for your time, friar.

: Go in peace, my brothers.

: Is that him?

: It must be. Excuse me, monsieur!

: What's the pasword?

: The password? Uhhhh...

: Etam.

: Oh! I took you fellas for bird-brained cops, but you actually know the secret password. So, what do you want?

: Well, let's start with introductions. You are the Croque-Monsieur, are you not?

: Mon Dieu, people always get the pronunciation wrong.

: I'm not really hearing the difference.

: In any case, Monsieur Croc-Monsieur, my name is-

: Don't tell me, you idiot! Bringing up names can mess up an entire meeting! Why do you think I use an alias? Just tell me what you want. Drugs? Guns? Explosives? Slaves? Come on, I don't have all day.

: Well, to be honest, what I really want is...

: I know you've been supplying weapons to a rebel group. I want to know everything. Who they are. Where they are meeting. What they bought from you.

: Heh. If I sold out my customers, it wouldn't be good for my reputation now, would it?

: I suppose that’s true...

: Just kidding. Money beats integrity any day.

: Five hundred francs for information? That seems a little steep.

: Steep? This intel is probably worth fifty thousand francs to the Parisian police! I’m giving you a bargain. Listen, you pay me the full five hundred right now, and I'll tell you exactly when and where you can find the rebels.

: Do you take checks?

: Very funny. And no, I don’t take pocket lint either. It's cold, hard Napoleons only.

: Sainte merde! It’s the fuzz! Cheese it!

: Wait, wait! Monsieur Croc-Monsieur! Come back!

: Never fear, Falcon! I’ll tail the dastardly fellow!

: What's all this ruckus? Playing cops and robbers, are we, Jayjay?

: Are you blind, Séverin? That was the Croc-Monsieur! We were on the crux of extracting some vital information about the rebels, but your smug entrance just ruined everything!

: Hmm?

: That was the Croc-Monsieur? I never would have guessed.

: You don’t sound very concerned.

: Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’m quite impressed that you managed to track down such an elusive criminal.

: More pressing than finding the rebels?

: ... Jayjay, I want you to answer this question sincerely and honestly. Did you go by a different name, prior to enrolling at Paris Law School?

: What? What does that have to do with the rebel investigation? Or to do with anything, for that matter?

: I would appreciate it if you just answered the question, Jayjay. I need to hear it from your own beak. Have you ever gone by a different name?

: I don't deny it. A man has a right to change his name.

: Indeed, a man does have that right. But why would a man do such a thing?

: I don't appreciate your accusatory tone. You sound just like Inspector Volerti.

: ...

: Answer me, Séverin! What is going on? What did Inspector Volerti say?

: ...

: Man... that croc can run.

: It appears that you two are making solid progress with your investigation into the rebel group. I'll be sure to let the Inspector know.

: Where are you going? We haven’t finished our discussion, Séverin.

: We have. I've learned what I came here to find out.

: What... ~wheeze~ what was that all about?

: It doesn't matter. Séverin is just poking his beak where it doesn't belong.

: Heh.. nosey... blighter.

: So, tell me about your little adventure, Sparrowson. You lost the Croc-Monsieur, I take it?

: Yeah... He looks... like a stumpy reptile... ~Wheeze~ but he ran... like a gazelle! I lost him... in no time at all...

: I see. Well, with the Croc-Monsieur's lead gone, our investigation has reached a dead-end.

: Not entirely... He dropped something... during... the chase...

: He dropped something? What, exactly?

: I'll show you... follow... me...

: I think you need to do more exercise, Sparrowson.

: Don't judge me.

: Ow.

>>>>

: Ow.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

: Ow.

: No. My foot's hurting. I think I got something in my shoe.

: Well, grit your beak and bear it. This is around where you saw the crocodile drop something, right? Then let’s put on our investigation hats and find... whatever it is.

: The sign is difficult to read. The paint has faded. Tr... Trodel Fruitier?

: Tiuqde Fkuitier.

: There's no way it says that. You just made those words up.

: All words are made up, Falcon.

: ...

: An empty cart. Somebody has scrawled the word “Descartes” on it. The owners name, perhaps?

: I don't think so, Falcon. See the graffiti on the wall behind you?

: ... Deswall...

: Somebody thinks Desfunny.

: ~Sigh~

: “Noah's Bar. All animals are welcome!” “Except mosquitoes. You blood-suckers can go get your fix some place else.”

: Noah feels pretty strongly about mosquitoes, huh.

: Well... he has a point. I'm not saying all mosquitoes are blood suckers, but-

: Woah, Falcon! Keep it classy.

: I'm just stating facts...

: Does that street lamp look broken to you?

: Yep. I think all the lamps on this street have been vandalized. The ground is covered in glass from the broken panes. Oh! That explains why my foot is hurting.

: It does?

: Oh no! My good shoes are ruined!

: Well, I wouldn't say “good”. You paid twenty cents for them..

: File this away in the evidence folder.

: You... want me to file away the broken glass?

: Yep. I'm filing an official formal complaint to the government. Their faulty street lamp has ruined my shoes, and I am owed compensation!

: I think government officials have better things to do than worry about your twenty cent shoes, Sparrowson.

: We'll just see about that.

{[Glass shards]} have been added to your evidence folder.

: Are you satisfied? We have real evidence to find.

: It’s a list. “Forty Muskets... twenty pistols... gunpowder... three thousand musket balls...To be delivered to the Sleeping City." This is an invoice. I don’t see any names on here, but given the contents and quantities, the goods are probably intended for the rebels. Excellent find, Sparrowson.

: It was nothing.

: But “the Sleeping City”? Where could that be?

: Well, it’s a city that sleeps a lot. So somewhere in Spain would be my guess.

: I’m pretty sure that the location is not a literal city. For one thing, we already know the city where the rebels are gathering - it's right here, in Paris. ‘The Sleeping City” is a code phrase. Like a riddle.

: A riddle, hmm?

: Hmm.

: Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

: Well, I'm stumped. And "hmm"ing is getting us nowhere. We must find someone who can solve it. We need a person who is knowledgeable about all manner of riddles and puzzles.

: A know-it-all, huh?

: Precisely. In the meantime, I'll file this away for safe keeping.

{[CrocrMonsieur’s invoice]} has been added to your evidence folder.

: Do you think the croc dropped anything else?

: I think we’re done here.

: Okay. I guess we can always come back if we think we've forgotten something.

: Time to...