A/N: This little thing occurred to me midway through playing the fourth case of AAI, Turnabout Reminiscence. I won't spoil anything, but there's this one conversation between Edgeworth, Franziska, and Von Karma which basically alternates nonstop between foreshadowing for the end of the first Ace Attorney game and blatant verbal abuse. Yet everything Edgeworth says about the guy absolutely oozes hero worship and a blissful ignorance of Von Karma's iffier qualities…and still, he accepts every last insult with an unsurprised, if saddened, 'Yes, sir,' and an utter lack of expression.

Thus, I present to you: how the hell that relationship came to be. In my humble opinion, of course.

This is going to be an exception to my recently-instituted no-partials rule, since it's a drabble series and you guys won't be getting plot holes dropped on you every time I miss updates.

Chapter One

Arrival: Lesson in Retrospect, and Lesson Two

Februar 2002

Although Miles Edgeworth's official tutelage would not begin until the day after he arrived at the Von Karma manor, he learned his first lesson as soon as he landed in Germany. Manfred von Karma himself had been waiting at the terminal, both hands resting on his shiny black-lacquered cane, looking every bit as proud and forbidding as Miles remembered from his father's final day in court.

He had been very…brisk. No 'good to see you again' or 'how have you been' or even 'my condolences on your father's passing', belated as that would have been. The first thing he ever said to Miles was 'Is that all?' with a sharp look at his little black bag.

"Yes," Miles replied softly. He couldn't bring himself to look all the way up at Von Karma's eyes, which fell instead upon the ring-bedecked, folded hands atop the cane, but neither did he stutter. His father had never stuttered. Miles would not stutter.

Von Karma nodded curtly and snapped his fingers, pointing a tall, nondescript man in an equally nondescript suit towards Miles's bag. Immediately, the man stepped forward and took it from Miles. He did not look at the boy as he did so.

"Come," Von Karma ordered, the cane providing sharp punctuation to his gait. Miles followed almost directly behind him. He noticed that the suited man consistently shifted pace so that he was never ahead of his employer or the small boy.

Von Karma paused before the elevator, and the suited man broke his apparent protocol to step forward and reach a hand out to the button. Dread flared in the pit of Miles's stomach, but he didn't dare say anything, even as he envisioned the dark, cramped walls, the shuddering motion—

—the jarring stop—

—the gunshot—

—that scream—!

"No," Von Karma said crisply, and the suited man stopped. Von Karma turned on the spot and led the way to the stairs instead, lifting his cane off the ground and swinging it in a neat arc until it was held securely under his arm.

(Even as an adult, Miles never knew exactly why Von Karma tolerated his—as Manfred put it—distaste for elevators, even with his need for a cane. Perhaps it was simpler than coping with one of Miles's breakdowns. Perhaps the indulgence amused him. Perhaps he didn't want to push Miles too far and break him before his revenge could be carried out.

Or perhaps, just perhaps, it was a flash of humanity.)

In any event, this was Miles's first lesson, though he wouldn't see it for what it was for many years: Kindness inspires loyalty, no matter how undeserved.

It was good for Von Karma that this was true, for the second lesson wasn't long in coming.

"Edgeworth," the cold, deep voice said as the car rumbled to life, and Miles jumped. Edgeworth was his father, not him—but not anymore, it seemed.

"Yes…" he hesitated, not sure how to refer to this terrifying man to whom he owed his future. "…Sir?" Miles ventured.

Von Karma didn't smile, but his scowl lessened slightly, his lips no longer so tightly set, the lines in his forehead no longer so sharply defined. "I am bringing you to my home. You will live there until you reach your age of majority."

Miles knew this, but thought it would be poor form to say so, and so he nodded as respectfully as he could.

That did earn a faint smile, or perhaps a smirk. "You know your place. That is good. I suppose it would be impossible to grow up in any lawyer's home, even a defense attorney's, without learning something of manners." He paused for a moment, retrieving his earlier train of thought. "Now and forever, boy, you are a Von Karma. From those bearing my name, I expect nothing less than perfection. I will accept nothing less than perfection. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good." To say that Von Karma relaxed would be untrue, but he did at least lean back a little. One hand crept up to rub gently at his right shoulder.

Miles did not dare move, sitting perfectly still and perfectly straight until they finally arrived.

And so the second lesson was learned.

Lesson One: Kindness inspires loyalty.

Lesson Two: A Von Karma is perfection.