A/N: Thank you so, so, so much for the reviews. These once-a-day chapters are all because of you... but this has only been possible because it's the holidays, and you're so cool I haven't studied for the next three weeks of exams. So expect a delay.

Also, hello to the two people who read this from a Finnish IP! \(^O^)/ ~ Drop a review sometime? ;)

When Lelouch returned to the base, he found a dark mood had fallen since his departure. It was under that mood as he changed out of the flight suit and back into his uniform, reminding himself never to wear one ever again. A check of the time told him the last period of classes had ended, not that there was anything to miss, if at all.

"You know," Asplund drawled, as Cécile took the flight suit into her hands. "The funniest thing is that he claims to have forgotten everything."

"Who?" asked Lelouch. "Bartley?"

"Of course. The surveillance images showed that every man on deck raised weapons against the prince all simultaneously, but Bartley got there first."

"Was there a signal?"

Asplund shrugged. "Who knows? All Prince Clovis said was to shoot the enemy Sutherland down."

"And then Bartley called a retreat of all forces."

"Yup. How'd you know?"

"You said the withdraw order came from the G-1."

"Now I did, didn't I?" Asplund hummed, rolling his feet from the tips of his toes to the balls.

"Could I ask when they acted?" said Lelouch.

"O-ho? I said, when Prince Clovis—"

"Was it when the other troops turned against each other?"

"Just about, I guess. You think it's related?"

"Maybe," Lelouch dodged, though he did. Such timing did not occur naturally.

Once Lelouch and Rivalz stepped out of the trailer, Asplund leant against the side of the doorway and gave a hmm comparable to the cat that caught the canary. Rivalz ignored him, but Lelouch looked back. This turned out to be the cue Asplund was looking for.

"The coup might have worked, if you think about it," he said.

"If it was any country other than Britannia," Lelouch retorted easily.

Asplund clapped. "True, true! It's only a matter of time until Bartley is apprehended – the poor fool wouldn't be able to go anywhere without a bounty on his head at this rate – and a new Viceroy steps in." He leant closer and lowered his voice. "There are three to one odds it's going to be Cornelia, interested?"

"No, thank you. I don't bet on the royal family."

"I haven't heard that answer before."

Lelouch shrugged. "Thank you for your time."

"No problem~! Come back anytime you want, devicer!"

—

Amor fati
N. Silvutra Mayhem

III.

—

Kallen hated returning to Ashford Academy. Its manicured lawns, flawless architecture, white brick walls and its expensive slate slabs tiled elegantly across the courtyards. Its large, decorative hallways, arched windows, ridiculous uniform... she hated all of it.

It was too Britannian.

Fortunately, being the daughter of a nobleman who had a far greater rank than the disgraced Ashfords, she was allowed to skip classes so long as she didn't shame the family. In other words, keeping her grades intact. She couldn't help but think that Lord Stadtfield probably felt sorry for being her father, but she didn't care. She wouldn't care about that man who left her for no reason except being half-Eleven.

Her fingers twitched for the pouch she kept in her pocket. The innocuous, pink pouch, carrying the most trusted switchblade in her possession. Every single time she thought about it, the difference in social class, she wanted to grab the nearest Britannian and throttle their throats. Except most of the time the closest Britannians were her (Kallen Stadtfield's) friends, friends who did nothing wrong except talk about the latest fashion trends and gossip about whoever had asked whom out for a date whichever weekend.

They were innocent. They didn't do anything wrong except know her. Her; a freedom fighter. They shouldn't have known her, and yet...

Yet they did.

Kallen glanced down at the slip of directions in her hand, comparing the surroundings to the hastily-drawn map on the side. The Equestrian Club to the right, with horses guided masterfully across the greens, and the main campus to the left, filled with mindless chatter that unified into a single drone.

The Student Council Clubhouse; this was it.

She was about to knock, then stopped when she would probably hammer in the door. It wasn't Kallen Kozuki knocking, it was sick, frail, can't-fight-to-save-her-life Kallen Stadtfield. So she took a deep breath, squished down every single rebellious spark she possessed, and rapped it gently.

"Hello?"

When she jumped at the voice behind her, she wasn't acting. She didn't know what she expected, but it wasn't the young man with soft, dark hair and the most infuriating, assertive posture that screamed of Britannia's influence. Suppressing the urge to drop kick that stick-thin figure (—if only there were a wind, that'd be good—), she gave Stadtfield's mild smile.

"Um, I was asked to come to the Student Council...?" she said, uncertainly.

"That's strange," he replied. "I wasn't aware there were any meetings going on."

He didn't wait for an answer, moving around her. That was when she noticed the shopping bags in his hands, and the slight struggle it took for him to transfer them to one hand and open the door with the other.

Bah, weakling.

The inside of the building was like the rest of the school; high ceilings, countless windows, and elaborate wallpaper plastered against the side. He led her to another room and gestured for her to enter first.

The first thing she saw was a busty blonde woman sitting on the large oaken table in the centre of the room.

"—and you have to remember to dust each book this time, not just running that thing along the shelves!"

"Yes, yes."

The poor target of her words, a lanky young man with cheerful eyes standing above a stool, balanced gingerly on his toes as he tried to reach the top of the ceiling-high bookshelves. In his hands was the largest, fluffiest feather duster Kallen had ever seen.

Her escort walked to the table, lifting the shopping bags to draw the blonde's attention.

"Milly," he began, "your supplies."

Milly hopped off the table, and then snatched the bags from his hands. They soon occupied the space she just vacated.

"Thanks, Lulu." She turned to Kallen. "Who's this?"

Kallen inclined her head. "I'm Kallen Stadtfield... I was asked to come here?"

"Kallen?" For a moment, Kallen wondered if she'd gone to the wrong place, but then Milly beamed and extended a hand. "Oh, that's right. I'm Milly, Milly Ashford."

"And the prez," the lanky boy added, leaning back with the duster and wiggling it about. "If you're not careful, she'll—"

He stopped in a series of violent sneezes, as his nose disagreed with the dust motes released into the air.

"That's Rivalz Cardemonde," Milly said. "The dark young man that led you here is Lelouch Lamperouge."

Lelouch lifted a hand. "Hello, Miss Stadtfield."

"Please, call me Kallen."

It was then a mop of strawberry-blonde hair appeared from under the far edge of the desk. The girl jumped up and placed a half-empty jar of marbles on the table, then dusted herself off.

"I'm Shirley Fenette," she greeted, smiling. Then she pointed to the side of the room, where a girl was meticulously tapping away on a computer. "That's Nina Einstein."

Kallen flushed inwardly, having thought Nina's unmoving head had been part of the wall. She covered it with a soft smile in return. "It's nice to meet you all. But, um, why am I here?"

All heads turned to Milly. The blonde's grin never faltered. "All students at Ashford have to be part of a club, but because your illness excludes you from a lot of groups, you ended up joining ours!"

"I—I did?"

"Yep. From now on, Kallen Stadtfield, consider yourself a part of the Student Council."

"Student Council? That's great."

"I'm glad you think so," Kallen muttered sourly.

She shifted into a slightly more comfortable position against the balcony's railing, turning her back on the lush green courtyards and lazily dipped her head back to watch the cloudless blue sky.

"Still," Ohgi added. "It's a great opportunity."

"Yeah, well, feels like more imprisonment for me."

"Just relax for a while. You need it after the scare you gave us yesterday."

Yesterday. She remembered yesterday. They'd tried to steal the container of poison gas, and she ended up being surrounded by the military. At some point she'd blacked out – unharmed, luckily – and when she woke up again, she was back at base camp and told she was saved by Kururugi. Unfortunately, they'd lost the truck, her Glasgow, and the Sutherland that Kururugi had been using. To top it off, the poison gas turned out to be a fraud.

Even so, they were fortunate enough that a withdraw order had been called. Otherwise things would have been much worse.

"About yesterday," she said, "what happened?"

"You know as much as I do. We'll have to wait for an official statement."

"Official?" she scoffed.

"Well, even if they're misleading most of the time, at least we'll somewhat know."

Kallen sighed. Then a sense of time hit her and she looked back down at the building.

"Right," she said. "I should be going. When can I see you guys again?"

She heard Ohgi exhale from the other end, the distorted sound of his breath rattling from the speaker. "Stay for at least the next three days. We'll finish moving by then."

"I'll help you—"

"Stay, Kallen. Just... calm down and leave this to us, okay?"

"But I—"

"It's what Naoto would have wanted."

Kallen hung up. She hated it when he pulled that card, using her love for her brother against her. But she knew she wouldn't have agreed if Ohgi enjoyed using it; both of them disliked the manipulation. Briefly, she took a few moments to compose herself to a point where she didn't want to smash the pot plants beside the window, and felt the transition between Kozuki and Stadtfield settle in.

She entered the building again and sighed. Three days. Only three days. She could do it, right?

The nails digging into her palms said no.

"I don't get why you involved yourself in the Shinjuku mess anyway."

Kallen froze. She reached into a pocket for her switchblade, and slowly turned around—

—to see an empty balcony behind her, with nobody in sight.

"You could have gotten killed!" the voice exclaimed. "Or worse!"

The words were coming from the room beside her. She searched her memory; she knew that voice, who was it...

"That doesn't matter."

"God damn it does matter, Lelouch!"

Lelouch. The Student Council. Which meant the other one must have belonged to Rivalz Cardemonde.

"Then you should just forget it," replied Lelouch.

"How could I forget my best friend blackmailing a Marquess and piloting a seventh-generation Knightmare?"

"Lower your voice, Rivalz," Lelouch warned.

"Fine," Rivalz said, gruffly, but did speak at a more reasonable level. "I'm your friend, Lelouch. Isn't that why you told me everything?"

Pause.

"Geez. Whatever. I'll keep it secret, but I won't forget. You got that?"

Pause. Then, so soft she nearly missed it: "Thank you."

"Sure, I guess." The tone was sheepish, mixed with something deeper. "Anyway, what did you think Clovis's death was all about?"

Kallen held her breath, and her eyes widened. Impossible – the Viceroy was dead?

"Bartley? Who knows what that man was thinking. Maybe it was part of his plan."

"Huh. Ridiculously complex plan to me."

There was another pause, far longer this time, filled with the sound of water being turned on and off and an endless scraping. Potatoes, maybe?

She was about to leave when they spoke again.

"Rivalz, what do you think about the world?" asked Lelouch.

"Eh? Uh, that's an awfully broad question."

"The Area system, then. Britannia's conquests."

"I... I don't know. Why do you ask?"

Lelouch hesitated, and she knew it was hesitation because she could hear the sound of his breath as he took in a gasp. It was too loud as he breached the taboo topic – rarely did a person mention the Numbers in relation to Britannia's rule, and only to mock how easily they had been swept under the royal blue banner.

He finally answered, his words soft. "I want to liberate Japan."

The message was there, its intentions sincere. Kallen... Kallen was dumbstruck. Of all the things she would be listening in to, at a Britannian school, from the mouth of a Britannian to another...

To Rivalz's credit, he didn't raise a huge fuss. But there was still that pause of shocked silence.

"Why would you want to do that?"

"To fulfill a dead friend's dream," he replied. "From there I will build a world where every man, woman and child can live in peace."

Fearlessly, Lelouch's voice returned to its usual level.

"Will you join my journey, Rivalz? You who your father was violent and never sober, losing his life to alcohol poisoning when you were thirteen. You who took your mother's name, taking a position as a bartender after watching her work three jobs each day."

"H—how did you—"

"Join me, Rivalz," he repeated. "Together, we will change the world."

Suzaku prodded at his left eye, trying to see something, anything within the reflection of the old glass mirror.

Nothing. Zip. Zilch. Nada. All he saw was his own eye staring back at him, the same as always. But how did that explain the piercing sensation he felt before? How did this 'Geass' work?

He sighed. His thoughts were getting nowhere fast.

Stretching a little, he allowed his eyes to trail over the mess of boxes on the dusty floor, numbered with hurriedly scrawled permanent marker. The terrorist cell was moving their base, and people were expected to pack their belongings. He personally had no belongings other than a duffel bag filled with necessities, and since arriving a week ago there wasn't much to tidy together.

When his phone rang, he tapped the shoulder of the woman beside him and returned the mirror to her before stepping outside. The Front did not save phone numbers on their phones, nor did they choose to display them, so there was no use checking Caller ID.

He flicked the device open, sparing a glance at the reflection of his left eye in the screen, and placed it against his ear.

"Hello?"

"Kururugi."

Suzaku knew that voice well. "Colonel Kusakabe, this is Kururugi Suzaku, sir," he confirmed.

"Good. Are you alone?"

"Yes, sir."

"What I am about to say will be as equal men, not as commander and subordinate. You will not tell anyone of this conversation. Do you agree to these terms?"

Suzaku hid a frown. His long-trusted instinct told him that the breach of protocol would not constitute good news, but his curiosity won him over.

"I agree, sir."

"Very well." Then, when Kusakabe spoke again, all military form was dropped and his voice sounded closer to his age. "Suzaku, do you think the Front is succeeding?"

"What do you mean?"

"I speak of Toudou, and Katase. Do you agree with how they are running the Front as it is?"

Was he intending to—

"I still don't get what you mean," Suzaku repeated.

"You know very well what I'm trying to say. Did you not think, when those forty-two Britannian soldiers tried to stand in our path for victory during the Seiryu strikes that they had to be killed?"

"Yes, sir."

There had been more than forty-two Knightmares that day. He remembered the Burai twisting and dodging under his control, slashing his enemies in quick, impossible succession. Few could eject; none could leave.

"What did Toudou do afterwards?" Kusakabe asked. "He punished you. He sent you to Shinjuku and barred you from weapons... orders you did not follow."

"No, sir." It was easy to reply like this, mechanical and undefined.

"Toudou and Katase have grown soft in their efforts to free Japan. They seek for opportunities. We will create our own. Join me. Join me, and you will no longer have to care about their restraints. Just like the Fire Bird of the South, the suzaku, I will give you free reign to burn all Britannians who stand in your way without fear of consequence."

Suzaku paused. Then, voice level, he said, "I will have to think about it."

"Very well. You will have six days to decide."

"Six?"

"That is when we will begin our counterstrike. We will stand against the Britannian rule that has chained us to our graves."

Suzaku clenched the phone tighter. Yes; it had chained his father.

"In six days, I will contact you," said Kusakabe. "I await your decision."

At Ashford Academy, the school days always started the same. Lelouch would wake up, dress, and eat the breakfast provided by their kind Japanese maid Sayoko. Over his food he would greet Nunally and the two would have small talk for no reason but to hear the other's voice, and then he would leave the clubhouse to attend homeroom. Sometimes this changed, when he had something scheduled before school, yet it usually remained the same.

But that day, a week after the events at Shinjuku, was different.

"Lelouch Lamperouge?" his homeroom teacher had called.

Lelouch had signaled for Shirley to go ahead to her next period.

"Yes?" he asked.

"You have a visitor waiting for you at the front gates."

His mysterious visitor turned out to be Lloyd Asplund, standing in his usual lab coat with both hands stuck deep in his pockets. Cécile stood beside him, and the ASEEC mobile base was parked behind both.

"Heeeeey~!" Asplund called.

Lelouch definitely hadn't expected to see them. "Lord Asplund? How did you know I was here?"

"Your uniform, of course."

Right. "What are you doing here?"

"Are you saying we can't visi—" his words blurred into a garbled shout as Cécile stepped on his foot. Then he coughed. "Right. Well, you have a visitor."

A visitor?

The surprise must have shown on his face, because Asplund grinned. Cécile knocked against the side of the vehicle twice. At the signal the door slid open smoothly, as it always did, but Lelouch froze and a chill creeped down his spine.

"Y—you..."

"I never thought, when I began Camelot," he began, voice confident and excluding aura, "that Lord Asplund would tell me of the most curious pilot with black hair and purple eyes. And this pilot, coincidentally enough, happened to go by the name of two deceased family members dear to my heart. Lelouch Lamperouge."

Schneizel el Britannia smiled. "It's been too long, my brother."

A/N: Now this is getting to the point where it's a story.

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