July 8, 2009 a.t.b.
The large double doors of the Imperial Palace opened wide to admit a small, slight young man, dressed in finery that cost a sum of money that many a Number would kill to possess, and as soon as it did, that young man strode in, steel in his violet eyes, determination and rage in every step he took. This young man was, as the herald proclaimed, Lelouch vi Britannia, Fourth Prince of the Imperial Family, eleventh in line to the Imperial Throne of the Holy Britannian Empire, of which the city of Pendragon–or, more accurately, the Imperial Palace–was the seat. His mother, Empress Marianne 'the Flash' née Lamperouge vi Britannia, had recently been assassinated by what the official sources cited as "terrorists", though the whole sordid affair had the entire Imperial Court gossiping in their boardrooms and private boxes, even though for the sake of politeness, such things were never discussed in front of Emperor Charles zi Britannia, the boy's sire.
Lelouch could hear the hushed gossip that went on around him without flaw; he was nothing if not extremely perceptive, especially when his beloved sister's life hinged upon his success–which, in this case, it very much did. He had waited a long time for his audience with the man before him, and he would not be denied the right to make his inquiry. He stood before his sire, and prepared to say his piece. "Hail, your majesty. My mother, the empress, is dead."
"Old news. What of it?" replied the emperor, his tone one of boredom.
"'What of it?'" the boy quoted in disbelief.
"You sought an audience with the Emperor of Britannia simply to inform me of that?!" exclaimed the older man, seemingly almost offended. He turned to the herald, bidding him to "Send the next one in. I have no time for these childish games."
"Father!" cried Lelouch, rushing up the stairs to the imperial dais.
The emperor held off his guards with a raised hand; they retracted with an utterance of, "Yes, your majesty."
"Why didn't you keep Mother out of harm's way?!" asked the prince, his tone accusing and full of righteous fury. "You're the emperor, the greatest man in this nation if not the world. You should have protected her, and now you don't even visit Nunnally!"
"I have no use for that weakling," he replied dismissively.
"'That weakling?'" parroted Lelouch, shell-shocked.
"That is what it means to be royalty."
Lelouch was about to proclaim his renunciation of the throne, but something held his tongue; that being, of course, that that would disinherit not only him, but also Nunnally. And while he could endure any hardship, he was loathe to consign his sister to that, even if she was at her peak condition and not in the delicate state she was in currently. At that moment, a certain calmness settled over Lelouch, hardening his heart. Yes, he would be strong and prevail against his impulse for Nunnally's sake, and then he would prove his worth to his sire, in so doing protecting his beloved little sister; he could launch his own investigation into the identity of those who killed his mother at a later date, and in the interim defend his sister's life and honor. For these reasons and others besides, he bowed his head and knelt. "Forgive me, Father. That may be what it means to be royalty. But I do not aspire to be royalty. I aspire to be an emperor! And a true emperor is like unto a god, and as such may be judged by the same criteria. I retract my previous statement. You are a king, and no emperor."
With that, he stood and exited the audience chamber, ready to make his way in the world.
For Nunnally's sake.
Eight Years Later…
[Your highness, we're nearing the area of operation,] said Margrave Jeremiah Gottwald, one of his two personal knights and his closest military confidante, as well as the Knight of Seven. His friend's words shook him from his nap, and in an instant, Prince Lelouch vi Britannia's grip tightened on the yokes of his custom sixth-generation Knightmare Frame, Gawain, and he was ready for what was to come. The dream about his audience before his sire was infrequent, but it did occur from time to time, unfortunately. [You should make certain you're ready; I would hate to have you slip up.]
Lelouch smirked. This banter was normal between them, as his older sister Cornelia had been very recently informed; this mission was a joint command between the two of them, albeit only because Cornelia had more experience, and because Lelouch was known for indulging her protective urges. The Chief General's force was to be the other unit in the pincer that they were executing, and it now fell to him to lead Army Group vi Britannia, otherwise known as the Black Knights due to the color of their sixth-generation Knightmares, to victory once more. "You don't have to worry about me, Orange-kun," teased Lelouch, referencing his friend's personal biggest slip-up (although he wasn't sure it was a mistake even to this day). "I still don't understand why you stick with that old Sutherland of yours and haven't yet upgraded to a Gareth–Lloyd's oh-so-very proud of them."
[I like the feel of this older model better, your highness,] replied Jeremiah. [It has hands, your highness; hands…]
The prince laughed; Jeremiah was an irrepressible jester when it was just them, and Lelouch wouldn't have it any other way. He made Nunnally laugh, after all, and that alone made Jeremiah's talent truly priceless to the young Britannian royal. A lot had changed in the eight years since he had very nearly given up his claim to the Imperial Throne, but one of the things that had remained constant–or rather, only increased (to a degree that those who weren't all that close to him found almost frightening)–was his devotion to his blind, crippled little sister. It was for his little sister's sake that he fought, that he would continue to fight, until at last he became an emperor to exceed his sire's greatest achievements. This was his one prevailing goal in life, and the one for which he would sacrifice anything and everything that Nunnally did not hold dear–which, for the large part, included some of his closest friends. "Ah, I see. One can never overestimate the value of hands, can they, Jeremiah?" he replied.
[No, your highness. Never,] agreed the turquoise-haired knight.
Lelouch changed his radio channel to the one that would allow him to speak to all his men at once. "This is General Lelouch vi Britannia to all Black Knights. We are nearing our drop zone. When we get there, engage your Float Systems; we will be commencing Operation Sandstorm at eleven hundred hours. All hail Britannia!"
[All hail Britannia!] reported his forces, demonstrating their readiness to engage their targets–the entirety of the Middle Eastern Federation, which would be key for the upcoming invasion of the Chinese Federation that Cornelia had shared with him in confidence. In his own way, Lelouch had become part of Cornelia's inner circle, and likely would even if he wasn't her beloved younger brother; he looked forward to sharing in the victory celebrations with Dalton and Guilford, both being former tutors of his, and now, good friends.
The mission timer ran down, and they reached their drop point. Their VTOLs disengaged their tow lines, and one by one the Knightmare Frames under his command, including the special customized Sutherland his knight used, engaged their Float Systems, until finally he, too, did; and when the Gawain joined the battle, enemies were liable to throw down their weapons and surrender so as to avoid their complete and total annihilation. Thankfully (at least, in Lelouch's view), this enemy did not disarm, and instead began to fire; this put a very wide, bloodthirsty Cheshire cat grin on his face. "Operation Sandstorm is a go. Weapons free! All units, engage!"
[Yes, your highness!] proclaimed the Black Knights. The sable Gareth Knightmare Frames swooped in and began tearing into the recalcitrant country's Bamides Frames with their Slash Harkens and arm-mounted Hadron Cannons, utilizing the pinpoint-accuracy of their Druid System-integrated Factspheres to their fullest potential. Their use of Float Systems rendered the Middle Eastern Federation's one advantage, the fact that the landspinners with which all Knightmare Frames were equipped, were ill-suited to use on sand, an advantage which they had used against Cornelia's forces time and again until the Second Princess was forced to concede and send for her younger brother, null and void; a more one-sided battle would be rather difficult to find, in truth. When Lelouch joined the battle in earnest, however, it was all over.
Ever since he had been deployed into actual combat against the European Union at the age of fourteen, where, in his first sortie against enemy Panzer-Hummel Frames, he had destroyed twenty-five enemy units in a then just-out-of-date Glasgow, Lelouch had been classed as an ace Knightmare pilot–a living legend, one oftentimes compared to the Knights of the Round, and, upon such comparisons, more often than not determined to be of a superior caliber. Thus, when he appeared in his Gawain, the outcome of battle was already decided; spreading his arms out wide, he used his shoulder-mounted Hadron Cannons to annihilate twenty-seven of the enemy Bamides Frames in one sweep. Then, when they moved to adapt like Roman legionaries against Carthaginian war elephants (an ironic analogy if ever there was one), he brought his arms in closer together, pointing them at the enemy lines; using mini-Slash Harkens in his Knightmare's fingers, he ripped another eighteen to pieces by converting two at a time into little more than marionettes to use against their fellows. With the efforts of his soldiers, in half an hour, all enemy forces had been taken care of; the Black Knights were thus ready to advance.
It wasn't long before his forces rendezvoused with Cornelia's, and when they did, the remainder of the enemy's troops were razed, more by the Black Knights and their advanced Knightmare Frames than by Cornelia in her desert-adapted Gloucesters and Sutherlands. By midday, the battle was over, and where once the Middle Eastern Federation had stood, nestled in between two greater powers that were both at least nominally hostile to Britannia, Area Eighteen had been established. Tehran was the city at which the nation's sovereignty was handed over to the invading forces–specifically Cornelia–and in the conquered city, the siblings met.
"Hail Cornelia, Goddess of Victory," called the ace from the open cockpit of his Gawain. "Shall we adjourn for lunch with your loyal subordinates?"
Cornelia, flanked by Gilbert Guilford, her knight, and General Andreas Dalton, her oldest general, turned with a bemused smile upon her face, hand upon her hip as she looked up at her little brother, perched atop his monumental Knightmare. Lelouch's command uniform consisted of a dark purple outfit that, with his white cravat, looked like a cross between a Victorian-era suit and a Knightmare jockey bodysuit, and upon his shoulders was a high-collared, gold-rimmed, red-lined black cloak. His hands were clad in high-dexterity black gloves, and there was an aural mouthpiece clipped to the side of his face, the lower half of which was covered by a black cloth mask, but other than that, his outfit lived up to his moniker in almost every way. When she nodded, he looked as though he was smirking before he leapt up into the air, flipped, then landed on his feet, nimble as a cat–a testament to the thoroughness of the conditioning he had been putting himself through since he decided to join the military at the age of nine, before she left on her first tour of duty.
They went to a small café within the city limits that had a good view of the city, with the Black Knights having taken the square to exit their Knightmares and see to their maintenance, and Cornelia's forces in the park and the since-commandeered military base. They were soon joined by Jeremiah and his former squire, Baroness Villetta Nu, and when they all were together, they enjoyed the spoils of their conquest. "I have to say, Lelouch," remarked Cornelia, starting off the conversation. "When I first heard that you were forming an all-Knightmare force, I thought it a foolish idea. And yet, here we are, gazing upon the fruit your idea has borne. I am sorry to have doubted it."
"Don't be; it was a foolish idea. I just was able to make it work," replied Lelouch, waving his hand dismissively as he used the other one to pull down his mask. "Normally, even with the amount of sakuradite Area Eleven produces, an all-Knightmare force would be a logistical horror story, with fabrication and the facilities to conduct it being the primary issue. I was in a unique position, since my quick action was able to save the Ashford Foundation, whose Knightmare production capabilities rivalled any other in the market, and now is larger than all of them combined. But even then, I would not have had success had it not been for the present Schneizel gave me for my fifteenth birthday after the Battle of Orléans. I speak, of course, of Earl Lloyd Asplund, the head of Camelot. His genius and my demands birthed the Gawain, and thus the Float System, the Druid System, the Hadron Cannon–all the hallmarks of the sixth generation of the Knightmare Frame. Truly, with him and my friend, Milly Ashford, at the helm, the new Camelot is the engine of the Black Knights' success."
"Oh? Well, I for one think you're being too modest, Lelouch," stated Cornelia matter-of-factly. "Certainly, all these resources working in concert are the engine of the Black Knights' success, but it was you who got them working in concert in the first place."
"His highness is always too modest. It is his way," said Jeremiah.
"Well, he was an excellent student; that much is for sure," said Dalton.
"I agree," stated Guilford in that curt way of his. "I've heard him described as an 'ace of aces' by some, in fact."
"That's the media's doing. I've been trying to get Diethard to get them to stop, but so far, he's been having no success. I have no need of any title save 'emperor'," dismissed Lelouch. "Once I have attained that title, and Nunnally is safe, then the media can do as they please. But until then, I would have them hold off on the laurels. The war isn't won yet."
"As driven as ever, I see," laughed Cornelia. "You used to make Euphy jealous, you know that? She could never match up to you."
"That was not my intention, but if I am to protect Nunnally from being used as a pawn, I must be useful enough for the both of us," he stated. "That was what I learned from that day eight years ago. Our sire has learned what it is to be royalty at the price of forgetting what it means to be family; I cannot change that, and so I must adapt to it. It is that simple."
She nodded. "A wise sentiment."
"Actually, speaking of Princess Nunnally, is it not her birthday tomorrow?" asked Jeremiah.
"Yes, which is why I'm hoping I can finish up here by today," said Lelouch. He turned his head to look out the window. "I can take the majority of the paperwork with me to the homeland. I'm almost finished with what needs to be done here. I'll file the recall orders this afternoon and fly out tonight. Hopefully, I can be back in the Aries Villa by tomorrow morning to make Nunnally breakfast in bed. I'd like to bring the Gawain back with me if at all possible; if not, I'll have to order a Camelot plane to pick it up. The Gawain's size is prohibitive in that normal transport methods will damage it, and I don't want to get lectured by Lloyd. I've seen him in action, and the man can be blood-chilling when he wants to be."
"Well, well, well, I never thought that I'd see Prince Lelouch vi Britannia, General of the Black Knights, cowed by a technician," chuckled Guilford.
Lelouch smiled good-naturedly. "Well, why wouldn't I be? Technicians hold our lives in their hands, after all, Lord Guilford," he replied.
"I…yes, I suppose that is in fact the case, yes," commented Guilford, his face slightly troubled and officially chastised.
"Well, since we're on the subject of the Black Knights and technicians," said Villetta, pulling forth a digital clipboard and handing it to her commander, "the Maintenance Corps wants your permission to check the Gareths and prepare them to be loaded onto the delivery planes."
"Give it here," said Lelouch, putting out his hand to receive it. Villetta handed it to him, and he took a stylus out of his breast pocket, then signed his name and handed it back to her. "Tell them I want them ready to begin shipping when I give the order tomorrow."
"I will."
Then their coffee and food came, cutting off all talk of business and soldiery.
October 25, a.t.b. 2017
The Aries Villa was a beautiful estate; nestled in the more rural area of Pendragon, its aerial gardens were remembered by all who had lived there or stayed there for its carefully-cultivated beauty. The mansion at its center was no less beautiful, being, much like Versailles, in the Rococo aesthetic from an architectural standpoint, with carefully-gilded elegance being the norm in the more complex room. The designer obviously had a very particular taste in mind, but Nunnally vi Britannia, the manor's primary permanent occupant, loved living in it and loved her memories of it–or so she had expressed to her older brother, Lelouch; he, for one had no idea what went on in Nunnally's mind, but seeing as Nunnally had no reason to lie to him, he took her word for it and acted accordingly. Making sure his sister was comfortable, safe and happy was a bit of an obsession Lelouch's, after all–restitution for almost giving up their claim to the throne, as well as a symbol of his adoration of his younger sibling.
Lelouch, dressed in his casual clothes, snuck in very quietly, being very careful not to wake the household staff and make them privy to his actions, and thus making Nunnally privy to them. He set down his effects and proceeded into the kitchen to start off his little sister's birthday in earnest, as he wished for it to be; a half-hour later, he, carrying a tray of food, came to the double-doors of her bedroom. Balancing said tray in one hand, he quietly opened one of the doors, then once again gripped the tray in both hands and slipped, silent as a cat, into the chamber; he set the tray of food onto her nightstand table, then leaned over and placed a tender kiss upon his sister's brow. She stirred from her rest, reaching up and placing her hand on his face, though her eyes, as ever, remained firmly closed. "Brother?" she called in that weak, breathy voice of hers. "Is that you, Lelouch?"
"Yes, it is. Happy birthday, Nunnally," he replied, his tone gentle.
Her face lit up, and a great, astonished smile bloomed upon her face. "Oh, Lelouch!" she called, getting up and throwing her arms around her brother with a kind of energy she very rarely exhibited–it reminded him of when they were children, honestly, which he refused to allow to make him sad. This was a happy occasion, after all–the anniversary of his beloved little sister's birth–and he was not going to allow himself to ruin it by clinging to old memories. He really wasn't the type, in any case. "You're back!"
"Yes, I'm back. I brought you gifts from the field–but first, it's time for you to eat," he remarked. "You can't celebrate your birthday on an empty stomach, now can you?"
She shook her head, no, and he helped her lift herself into an upright seated position, replacing the pillows that had been under her head to help support her back. In turn, he brought the tray over from the nightstand and balanced it upon his lap, cutting the omelet he had prepared into pieces and feeding them one by one to his sister; since she could not see, Lelouch or someone else had to do this, or else risk her stabbing herself in the leg with a fork or something of that nature–the legs in particular were a danger since she could feel nothing in them, which could lead to her bleeding out without her noticing. Or perhaps that was just the overprotective brother in him being anxious; it did not matter to him, however. On the battlefield, he had learned well the lesson that if one expects the worst, then one is prepared when the worst befalls them, which did little and less to help him curb his protective tendencies.
When she had been fed, he brought her wheelchair over from where it sat in the corner of her room, picked her up out of bed in an admittedly totally unnecessary show of strength and placed her in the seat; then he wheeled her down the ramp that he had ordered installed with his first paycheck from his commission in the military. They reached the ground floor and then on to the solar in just enough time to receive the day's first visitors–none other than the illustrious (or notorious, depending upon who you asked) Earl Asplund and Lady Ashford, commonly known to the two who received them as Lloyd and Milly. Attending them were their assistants; for Lloyd, it was Cecile Croomy who accompanied him, and for Milly, Rivalz Cartemonde, who occasionally doubled as her chauffeur.
"Well, look at Princess Nunnally–fifteen years old already, eh?" joked Lloyd in his sing-song voice; given his behavior when sober, Lelouch did not wish to know what he was like when drunk. "I believe congratulations are in order, hmm?"
Nunnally giggled at the eccentric scientist's antics. "Hello, Lloyd. How have you been? It seems like forever since I've se–I mean, met with you."
"I've been better, your highness, but I can't complain. After all, I've got the challenging task of keeping your brother happy with my work–and you know what they say; slave-driving taskmasters are the fathers of inspiration and invention!" replied Lloyd.
"And you, Miss Cecile?" asked Nunnally.
"O…oh, your highness, I've been doing just fine. I mean, as fine as I can be when I have to keep this lout on task," she responded, elbowing Lloyd none-too-gently in the side.
"Ouch! What was that for?" demanded the earl.
"Oh, nothing," answered Cecile, smiling sweetly. "Don't worry about it."
"I swear, your highness, one of these days you're going to lose your division head because this one put poison in my coffee," complained Lloyd. "Arsenic, most likely. 'I thought it was sugar,' she'll say, as innocent as can be–with that same smile on her face, even."
Milly laughed; Nunnally turned her head in her friend's direction. It was a laugh that she would presumably know anywhere. "Milly? You're here too?"
"Of course, Nunnally; why wouldn't I be?" replied the current head of the Ashford Consortium. "Is there any particular reason why you wouldn't want me here?"
"Of course not. It's just that Lelouch said that you were really occupied with the work you were doing with Nina, and that he wouldn't be surprised if you forgot a special occasion you're supposed to be attending," explained the princess. "That's all."
"Well, I'd have a hard time of that since your brother has your birthday circled on all his calendars–including the one he keeps at his office here in the Homeland," Milly responded. "I mean, literally every time I'd use my key to go in there to get some papers or forms or some such nonsense, I'd have to go, 'oh, it's Nunnally's birthday on the twenty-fifth of October.'"
"Really, Lelouch?" asked the now-fifteen-year-old girl. "Every calendar?"
"Of course," the prince answered honestly, purposefully not responding to his little sister's jibe. "I didn't want to forget and wind up in the field on your birthday and have to ask Sayoko to give you your presents."
"And me!" called Princess Euphemia li Britannia as she entered the Villa's manor herself, accompanied by Lord Gino Weinberg, her personal knight as well as the Knight of Three. "Happy birthday, Nunnally!"
"Yeah! Happy birthday, your highness!" called Gino. "Boy, have you grown!"
"Hello, Euphy," called Nunnally, visibly a bit annoyed by the timing of their entry. "You too, Lord Weinberg."
"Aw, I've told you before, your highness; please just call me Gino. Lord Weinberg is my father," complained the brash young blond-haired aristocrat. "Hey, Lloyd."
"Gino," greeted the blue-haired scientist, perhaps a bit coolly–Gino of going through Knightmares as if they were cheap, which was both how he had made Knight of the Round and how Lelouch had trounced him in the last four of the annual Knightmare tourneys the emperor held in Pendragon. "Have you scrapped yet another Knightmare?"
"Oh, don't be like that, Lloyd! They just can't keep up!" said Gino, slinging his arm around Lloyd's shoulder.
"I shudder to think what you'll do with the Lancelot once it's completed," replied Lloyd tersely. Lelouch almost moved to head off one of Lloyd's lectures, which, it seemed, he only ever gave to Gino–not that it helped matters, mind you–but Milly beat him to it. The prince smirked and moved to greet Euphemia.
"AHEM. Hey, Gino," called Milly, her face set into a deceptive smile.
"Oh! Milly…I mean, Lady Ashford!" cried Gino, his cheeks reddening as he bowed deeply. "Please, forgive me; I didn't see you there."
"Wow. This is the first time I've ever seen Gino act so chivalrously," whispered Euphemia, her eyes wide in astonishment.
"You've obviously never seen him around Milly before, then," Lelouch replied in the same low voice. "Love is truly a very powerful transformative force–and the strings with which Milly controls Gino like a marionette."
"She's aware that he has a crush on her?"
"Of course; Milly is nothing if not perceptive. She's also a notorious sadist, and treats her suitors like playthings to advance the goals of Camelot and the Ashford Consortium both. It's a game to her–a grand game where they fight each other over her favor for her amusement. She's utterly ruthless. I'm just glad she's on my side."
Euphemia nodded her agreement; if this was what Lady Millicent Ashford wrought on those who were their allies, then she almost pitied their enemies for what she could do to them. It was then that true fear of the scion of the Ashford family and her capabilities were sown, took root and bloomed within her. She shuddered.
"Don't worry; she only targets those who seek her hand and those I set her upon. In a way, you could say that she's my most trusted lieutenant outside of Jeremiah and Lloyd," assured Lelouch, watching as Rivalz rose to challenge Gino, and they began to squabble. "You have nothing to worry about, and on that note, neither does your knight; out of all those who seek her hand, Gino is her favorite. His energy and tenacity entertain her." He turned away from his sister and clapped his hands twice, bringing the attention of the entire room onto him as the servants scurried about in the background to their respective posts. "Excuse me, but I do believe we're here to celebrate my little sister Nunnally's birthday."
"Of course," the two combative suitors replied in unison; this led to them giving each other dirty looks, but no further eruptions.
"Nunnally, I come bearing three presents for you," I stated. "The first is on behalf of our sister, Cornelia, who, due to the establishment of Area Eighteen yesterday, could not be here today; the second, on behalf of the Black Knights, who all pitched in to get you a single massive present; and the third, my personal gift to you."
"Brother, I…"
"Why don't we start off with the Black Knights' present?" he interjected, cutting off her protest. "Will that be acceptable, or would you rather another order to the opening of gifts?"
"No, that will be fine," she decided.
Just then, however, Lelouch's phone rang–specifically, the tone to which he had assigned Villetta. He handed the present off to Lloyd to open for Nunnally as he moved into another room and took the call. The princess pretended to be engaged in the present-giving, especially as one present blended into the next, as she continually put off opening her brother's present in hopes that he would return before she opened it. When she heard his outraged cry from the next room, her hopes sank into a knot at the pit of her stomach; it appeared they would not get the chance to spend her birthday together. At that moment, Lelouch stormed in, yanked Lloyd over to the corner and whispered the contents of the call to him; as she did, the sinking feeling increased, until finally, her worst suspicions were confirmed. "What?! They stole the Lancelot?!" cried Lloyd, hands on his head in horror, thus allowing everyone to know what was in the works.
"The Japan Liberation Front, the foremost anti-Britannian force on the island, has stolen the plans to the Z-01 Special Weapons Prototype Knightmare Frame, Codename: 'Lancelot.' The Emperor's deploying the Black Knights and me to Japan now to deal with the problem," said Lelouch to the party. He walked forth and knelt before his little sister. "I'm sorry, Nunnally, but this order comes down from His Majesty. I have no choice. I'll make it up to you, though."
"You promise?" she asked worriedly.
"I promise," he replied. "I'd never lie–not to you, anyways."
Later That Night...
"Alright, listen up," ordered Lelouch from the cockpit of the Gawain. "You of the Zero Squad, we've been dispatched by an order from the top to Area Eleven; from there, we will deploy into what has been confirmed to be the enemy's base of operations in the Narita Mountains. Our objectives are to secure, or, if necessary, destroy the Z-01 Lancelot, and to capture or eliminate former Camelot scientist Doctor Rakshata Chawla, whose defection two years ago is how the OSI believes the Japanese were able to construct our military hardware. The target in question is a seventh-generation Knightmare Frame, so if it goes active, leave it to me; I'll deal with its devicer."
[Yes, my lord,] responded the Zero Squad, the fifteen most elite of the devicers under his command and his personal guard. They were currently in their cockpits, their VTOLs transporting them to the drop point as always, so that they did not have to waste an ounce of the power that lay in their energy fillers, and minutes away from being deployed.
"Keep your eyes sharp. The enemy will be using Knightmare Frame derivatives known as 'Gekkas,' which are analogous to sixth-generation Knightmares; they are highly mobile and agile on the ground, and quite hardy as well, but they possess nothing like a Blaze Luminous. Keep your wits about you and they should prove no trouble. Their armaments seem to be an arm-mounted automatic gun and one 'Katen Yaibatō,' a weapon that, while not as effective as an MVS, will still do the job, and a single chest-mounted Slash Harken. These are built for close combat, and you all know what that means. They also may be using a 'Raikō,' an anti-Knightmare weapon modified from a Glasgow that apparently fires high-velocity shrapnel. When you encounter this, close fast; at range, the Raikō's shrapnel-scatter will prove too wide a field for your Hadron Cannons to eliminate, but when up close, the Raikō is a sitting duck. Understood?"
[Yes, my lord,] they responded again.
"Very good," replied Lelouch, smirking inside of his Knightmare, his head cocked with his chin propped up against his fist. "Then let Operation Euthanize commence. All hail Britannia!"
[All hail Britannia!]
The lock bolts on their Knightmare Frames disengaged.
And the mission began.