Chapter 7: Dark Memories
Oh God, this couldn't be happening. This couldn't be happening.
Shattered glass crunched under his feet as he disbelievingly stepped into the grand hall. There were bullets embedded in the wall behind him and blood on the ground. Lady Marianne's blood and Princess Nunnally's . . .
This couldn't be happening. This couldn't! The Aeries Villa was supposed to be impenetrable. And Lady Marianne couldn't die. That was impossible. She was too full of life and vigour for mere bullets to take her down.
But his conviction didn't seem to matter much, because that was undoubtedly Marianne's body on the floor by the stairs. That was undoubtedly her blood oozing out of the gaping bullet wounds that had almost ripped her to shreds. That was undoubtedly her.
One of his comrades shouldered past him, rushing towards the bodies on the floor, checking pulses. He was still in too much shock to move.
"She's gone." The man said quietly and the declaration reverberated in his brain until it became painful.
She was gone. She was really gone. Lady Marianne. The woman who had recruited him. The only person he'd ever revealed his aspirations for the Rounds to. The woman who had smiled at him mischievously and promised to help him realize his dreams.
Lady Marianne was gone.
"The princess is still alive! But fading fast!" His comrade said in surprise. Another of his comrades was already calling for medical aid on the radio while yet another rushed forward to help stabilize the princess.
He did nothing. He was frozen in place watching his world fall apart. Everything he'd worked so hard for . . . the woman he'd sworn to fight for and protect . . . his whole life was meaningless. He hadn't been able to prevent this. All of his oaths had been nothing but worthless words! Why hadn't he been able to stop this?!
"M-mother?" A broken, quiet voice said somewhere nearby, barely recognized or acknowledged.
"MOTHER? NUNNALLY?!"
"Gottwald! Get the prince out of here! Now. Protect him with your life." His team leader snapped to him,
It dragged him back to reality and his senses. He was a soldier. This was no time to be freezing up. He had a job to do. A duty. Lady Marianne had made him swear to protect her family. And so help him, he would.
He rushed up the stairs to where the terrified young prince was supporting himself on the banister while staring down at the carnage below – a perfect vantage point to see the bodies laid out on the marble.
"NUNNALLY!" The prince screamed again, eyes wide in shock, a visible tremble wracking his slight frame.
The boy's scream was met and mimicked by another from the floor below.
"LELOUCH!" The princess screamed, coming back to consciousness. It was the only recognizable word in the agonized shriek that left the girl's lips.
He grabbed the boy, hauling the prince up into his arms to press the boy's face into his shoulder. The prince shouldn't have to see this. He shouldn't have to see his family struck down practically before his very eyes.
The prince was still shaking, breathing in quick shallow breaths against his neck as he turned and began carrying him out of the house.
"Shh. . . I'll protect you, your highness." He soothed lowly.
"M-mother is . . . and Nunnally . . ." The boy gasped as another shudder wracked his frame.
The prince stilled after that and he glanced down to find that the boy had fainted in his arm. It was too much for anyone to bear, let alone a child. He cradled the prince's head against his chest as he slipped out of the house under the protection of some of his comrades and was escorted to a car waiting to take them to safety. The prince, and possibly the only survivor of the vi Britannia line, would be safe in his father's palace.
He didn't let go of the boy until they were ushered into a private room in the Imperial Palace and a nursemaid finally urged him to put the prince to bed. He did so with reluctance, fearing assassins coming to finish off the last survivor of the vi Britannias, and quietly excused himself. He closed the door quietly behind him, then slid down the wall next to it as a shudder wracked his own frame.
This couldn't be happening. None of this . . . All of this couldn't be happening. Lady Marianne was too strong . . . Princess Nunnally was too sweet . . . and Prince Lelouch was too bright for this to be happening.
But it had happened.
This was reality.
Jeremiah awoke with a start and a strangled cry on his lips. He was panting, bare chest rising and falling in rapid succession as a sheen of sweat made the sheets stick to him. He groaned, running a hand through his hair before collapsing back on the bed for a few minutes as he worked to steady his racing heartd and surging adrenaline.
The nightmares always got worse when he knew that the anniversary of Lady Marianne's death was approaching. The date in question was still weeks away, but that didn't seem to stop his mind from agonizing over the 'what ifs''s. What if he'd disobeyed the order to withdraw that Princess Cornelia had given? What if he'd been a little faster to respond to the sound of shots fired? What if he'd come too late and even the prince and princess had been slaughtered? Not that if it had mattered much since a few months later the god damned Japanese had nicely finished the job that the terrorists at the Aeries Villa had begun a few months later.
The memory of that still brought bile to his throat.
He'd seen the video. He wasn't supposed to have seen it, but he had. He'd been going to meet with Princess Cornelia and had come across her, not in her office, but in a sitting room, watching the television in wide-eyed horror with tears streaming down her face. He'd never seen the princess so shaken, not even after Marianne's death.
A second later, he'd discovered why.
They'd been quick with Princess Nunnally. Maybe they'd been showing her mercy since she was already crippled and blinded from the assassination attempt at the Aeries Villa, but they'd finished her with a single shot execution style to the back of the head.
Prince Lelouch hadn't been so lucky. Barely ten years old, but the Japanese had still taken out their anger on him. They'd tortured the boy to death. On video. Before sending it to the children's father as revenge for the onset of the invasion.
If they'd hoped it would scare the Britannians off, they'd greatly misjudged the Empire's own willingness to take revenge. The Emperor had mourned the loss of his children for only a day before declaring Empire-wide that they wouldn't stop until the prince and princess' murderers were all dead and the warring country of Japan was crushed firmly underfoot. It was a sentiment he shared. He wouldn't be done with this damned country until it was well and thoroughly suppressed.
He let out a shaky breath and rolled out of bed. His thundering heart rate had lessened to an acceptable level now, but more importantly was the fact that he could hear servants hesitating outside the door to his bedroom and he would be damned if he lost face in front of anyone else, whether they were useless servants or nobility.
He schooled his face into a cold, expressionless mask. "Enter." He ordered as he passed by the door.
The servants tittering outside the door did as they were bade, bringing coffee, breakfast, the newspaper, and the mail with them. He rarely took the time to sit down to eat in the mornings so his servants had come to this solution.
He grabbed the coffee, downing half of the scalding liquid in one gulp before turning away into his bathroom to the shower that was already running, waiting for him.
"Good morning, Master." The man tasked with getting the bathroom ready for him said quietly, laying out a fresh towel.
He was the new hire his butler had brought on after one of his maids had suddenly run off with her new lover. He'd been told that the man had previously been employed by the ever prominent Stadtfelds, but that the vacation villa he'd seen been working at had been sold by the family and he'd been out of a job. His name was Dirk something and in the week and a half since he'd begun working here, Jeremiah had never had a cause for complaint.
But what had he expected from a former servant of the Stadtfelds?
"Thank you." He said, before shooing the man out and closing the door behind him.
By the time he was done with his shower, he knew his linens would have been changed, the curtains drawn back and the windows opened to let the room air out a bit. He also knew that his uniform would be waiting for him to change into, freshly pressed.
It was a good system he had going.
When he emerged from the shower with the towel wrapped around his waist, he wasn't surprised to find that the maids were gone. They were always careful to be out of the room by the time he needed to dress. He was, however, surprised to find the newcomer still in attendance.
He quirked an eyebrow questioningly at the man, earning a bow in response. "This just came for you, Master. It's from the Viceroy." Dirk said, holding out an envelope.
Unlikely. Clovis wouldn't call for him. The more likely scenario was that it was from Clovis' secretary, who just so happened to answer to him. He hoped the prince wasn't putting one of his more ridiculous schemes into action. This war would be over a lot more quickly if Prince Clovis could restrain his whimsy to his paintings and social gatherings, rather than to tactics and harebrained schemes.
"That will be all." He said, plucking the envelope out of the servant's hands before turning his back on the man.
There was a moment, just a heartbeat's worth, of hesitation before the man responded. "Of course, Master."
Dirk left and the door closed behind him. Jeremiah let out a sigh, taking a bite out of one of the croissants that had been left for him as he opened the missive he'd just received.
To his surprise, it was, in fact, from Clovis and not the secretary. Well, he was sure it had come from the secretary, but under Clovis' orders. Margrave Jeremiah Gottwald, -and he took careful note of the way in which he was addressed, -was invited to a spectacular ball being hosted at the Viceroy's Palace in celebration of the New Year.
Clovis was getting smarter.
He couldn't do whatever he wanted with Jeremiah always hovering over his shoulder. But plainly not inviting him to this event would only have meant that he'd have arrived in his capacity as a Royal Guard and spent the evening in the Viceroy's shadow. No, by inviting him as a peer, he not only made sure that Jeremiah wasn't on duty that night, but it also gave him gave him free rein to avoid him. After all, no single noble should be able to monopolize the time of royalty. He would be expected to make his greeting, maybe speak with the Viceroy for a half an hour, at most, before moving on to let the prince repeat the process with his other guests.
He briefly considered denying the invitation and arriving as a member of the Royal Guard anyway. But Clovis wasn't the only one who needed to network, and he couldn't always do it from within the prince's shadow.
It was high time that Margrave Gottwald returned to the social scene. If only for a a night.
Lelouch smirked, thoroughly amused. As ever, Amos' reports were accurate and thorough to the point that they were downright painful to read. If It listed every tiny detail, right down to Gottwald's preferred breakfast fare and what he took in his coffee.
He'd been suitably impressed by how quickly Naoto had been able to train him. Well, he shouldn't have been surprised. Naoto was one of his most reliable agents for a reason, and Amos always devoted himself a hundred percent to his given role.
If the reports remained this thorough, he'd be ready to move in no time - which seemed to be what the Prime Minister was hoping for. He'd been in a meeting with his adopted father earlier, reporting his progress. The fact that he'd managed to get a plant into Gottwald's home had earned him praise. With Amos inside the house, and Naoto honing in on Gottwald from outside of it, very soon he'd have enough data to move.
He'd already gone through every second of video footage he could find of Gottwald and dug up every scrap of information he could find on the man, from his childhood right through to the present day. Reading about Gottwald's stint as a member of his mother's Royal Guard had been . . . tough.
Apparently, the man had been the one who had removed him from the scene the night of the assassination. He didn't remember it. He didn't remember much from that night except looking down at his mother and sister from the top of the stairs, ; his mother's blank, dead eyes, and Nunnally's shrieks of fear and agony. He'd been blind to everything else.
The rest was pretty fuzzy. He'd known the Royal Guard had been there,there; known that one of them had taken him to the Imperial Palace, but that man had remained faceless and nameless for the last eight years.
"I'll protect you, your highness."
He vaguely remembered that too. The Royal Guard trying to comfort him. It was strange to think that he was repaying the kindness with his current ploy. Strange to think that a man that had once protected him was now his target. Strange to think that he'd use the man to serve the Japanese and that he wouldn't give a damn about the consequences Gottwald might face for the actions he would make the man take.
"Working hard. As always."
He jumped at the intrusion, then chastised himself. He should have been more aware of his surroundings. He couldn't afford to space out like this, even if he was in his own room at home. Mori's watchdogs often watched him even here and it would be only too easy for them to get rid of him in a moment of carelessness. Sleeping was one of the most terrifying parts of his day, and not only because of the nightmares.
"Dad." He said in greeting, surreptitiously glancing at the clock. It was only ten thirty. It wasn't late enough that the man would order him to stop working and rest. He pasted on a cautious smile, wondering what Genbu could possibly want to say to him that he hadn't in their meeting earlier that day.
Genbu didn't say anything as he ran his gaze over the room, over the barren walls and immaculate shelves. Nothing was out of place and nothing gave any kind of hint to the kind of person who lived in this room. He liked it that way. It saved him from worrying about what his enemies were inferring about him from examining his material possessions.
Then Genbu's gaze fell on the pocket watch that was sitting on the desk beside him – the only thing out of place. His insides cringed, and he fought back the instinct to hide it like it was something shameful. Genbu was the one that had given it to him and if the man wanted to look at it he would let him. But that didn't mean he'd be out showing it off to anyone and everyone, even if he had been ordered to wear it.
But Genbu didn't ask to see it to examine the care with which he'd been keeping the watch. Genbu just smiled fondly at the damnable little device before ruffling his hair like he was still a kid. "Don't work yourself too hard, Lelouch. Live a little too."
"That's a direct contradiction of the orders you gave me earlier." He pointed out. In their meeting earlier, his adopted father had stressed the importance of haste.
"That was the Prime Minister talking to an agent." Genbu chuckled. "This is me as a father talking to my son."
Lelouch huffed. "You're the most aggravatingly contradictory person I think I've ever met."
"And you're the most aggravatingly distant son any father has ever had." Genbu countered with a warm smile.
He pursed his lips and glanced away, hating the man's new found interest in stressing the point of their familiarity. "There's only one of me. I can't very well fulfil contradicting orders, can I?"
"Oh? Then which are you?" The older man asked.
Lelouch hesitated only for a moment before turning his gaze back to his adopted father. "I'm an agent in the service of Japan, Mr. Prime Minister." He said firmly.
Genbu let out a disappointed snort before smiling sadly. "Then, Mr. Agent, I look forward to seeing your results. But don't wear yourself out."
"I won't." He promised. He'd never yet worked himself to exhaustion, though he had come close a couple times.
"Good night, Lelouch."
He watched Genbu go before scrubbing his hands over his face in frustration. It wasn't like he hated the man. In reality, he was very grateful to Genbu for taking him in. But that didn't mean he fully trusted him, or that he didn't think Genbu wouldn't sell him out and abandon him just as easily as his biological father had if if it were convenient.
He let out a sigh before turning back to Amos' report. He didn't have the time or the luxury to worry about it at the moment. Right now, he needed to focus on getting a leash around Gottwald before the proposed registration laws were made a reality.
Suzaku laughed openly, pushing his Knightmare to its limit. "Faster, Mura-san! You've got to keep up with me." He called through his headset to where his subordinate was giving chase only meters behind him.
Tohdoh had been right about him. Mura was an excellent Knightmare pilot. The best he'd seen aside from himself, and this run only proved it. He felt elation at finally finding someone capable of matching him. Mura would do well in the Eighth.
He raced forward, sinking his slash harkens into a nearby office building before using the taut wire to swing himself around a tight corner. He heard Mura curse under his breath at the sudden change in direction, and watched via his factspheres as the other man's Knightmare missed the turn and corrected the error by launching his Knightmare onto the roof of the convenience store on the corner, coming over the collapsing roof and landing on Suzaku's left.
"Nicely done." He praised, even if the convenience store was now a wreck.
"Thank you, Suzaku-sama." Mura said with a breathless chuckle as they continued their race through the city around them. Somewhere within this virtual landscape, he knew there were ten enemy Knightmares waiting for them. But he wasn't nearly as concerned about them as he was with putting Mura through his paces.
He wanted to know that he would always have someone at his back on the field. He was pretty sure that Mura knew how to handle himself in a fight – you didn't get into the Japanese Knightmare Division unless you knew how to fight damned well in their limited number Knightmare frames. Only the best got in.
No, what he was more concerned with was speed and reflexes, and how synchronized with his machine he was. And so far, the results were good.
He laughed again as his sensors began chiming in warning; they were picking up enemy units. He slowed his Knightmare to a stop in an intersection where they'd have a little space to move, taking up a defensive posture with Mura at his side as he allowed the enemy Knightmares to rush their position. It wasn't exactly strategically sound, but there was nothing better than a full on brawl, especially against these computer-controlled drones.
The enemy Knightmares rushed into the intersection, all new Britannian Sutherland models, and fanned out around the two Burais. Suzaku flexed his fingers, getting ready to charge at the nearest enemy. But before he could put his machine into action, the screens went blank and he heard the distinct sound of the simulator powering down.
He groaned, leaning back in his seat for a moment. He hated when they did that. Just when his adrenaline had started pumping too. And now he was left with this disconcerting plunge back to reality where there wasn't danger and his body didn't need to panic.
He let out another slow breath before disengaging the cockpit and stepping out onto the platform in front of the simulator, doing his best to stifle the glare he wanted to unleash on the man next to the power button. Matsuki Harou was his father's secretary, in his mid-thirties, and always presented a degree of professionalism that was almost scary.
"Suzaku-sama," The older man said with a neutral smile. "You were expected in the Prime Minister's office half an hour ago."
"Oh, shit." He said under his breath, running a hand through his hair. Had he really spent two hours in the simulators already? "Gotta go, Mura-san. Next time." He said before jumping down the scaffolding to the main floor where the shower room was.
He was going to be very late and his father was definitely going to drag him over the coals for it, but he wasn't about to show up to an afternoon of stuffy meetings in a closed office smelling like sweat and Knightmares. He'd done that once before and, after an afternoon of knowing that not only he but everyone else in the room as well could smell him, he'd sworn never to do it again.
"Give me ten minutes, Matsuki-san." He called over his shoulder.
He emerged, freshly showered and dressed, in slightly less than seven before sending Mura another wave and not so subtly herding Matsuki towards the door. While it probably wouldn't help any, and his father was going to ream him out no matter how late he was, he still nursed the naive hope that it might not be as bad if he hurried.
With luck, this time it would be true.
Naoto smiled widely at the pretty young noble woman that was doing a terrible job of convincing him that a marriage between their families would be a beneficial union. Charming as she was, it didn't change the fact that her family was nearly bankrupt thanks to her father's gambling habits. Not that that was common knowledge, but it was always good to have an eye on the people that moved in the same circles as he did.
And since that was basically his job, he took quite a bit of pride in knowing that he was good at it.
He'd seen Gottwald arrive some time ago, talking with the prince almost as soon as he'd come through the door. Naoto figured he was probably lucky that the man wasn't attending as a Royal Guard. If he'd been hovering in Prince Clovis' shadow all evening, it would have been practically impossible to actually approach the man and he'd have been forced to resort to mere observation.
Still, even with that in his favour, it wasn't like he could just walk up to Gottwald and strike up a conversation with him. They'd been introduced to each other in the past, but they'd never really shown an interest in each other. Making direct contact would give off the wrong vibe, like he was after something. Which was most emphatically not the vibe he wanted to give off.
So he watched from the corner of his eye as he entertained Miss Completely-Broke-and-Desperate, waiting for a chance to get Lord Gottwald to talk to him. That was the trick. Getting his targets to initiate the conversation was an acquired social skill that took patience and finesse. When he finally figured he'd gotten the man's pattern down, he excused himself from his lady friend's company and struck up a conversation with the man he figured would likely be next on Gottwald's list.
Lord Crowly was a very wealthy man in his late sixties. He made the Stadtfelds look like paupers by comparison. However, despite having so much money (the result of a massive inheritance, shrewd and ruthless business planning, and the high demand for his construction companies to repair and rebuilt rebuild infrastructure damaged by the war), Crowly hardly paid attention to politics, let alone dabbled in them. He was a powerhouse with an insane amount of influence that was rarely exerted. If the man ever felt strongly enough about something to exert pressure on any one issue, Naoto was reasonably certain that even Prince Clovis wouldn't be able to oppose him without risking severe financial repercussions. He was that influential.
He was also relatively good friends with Naoto.
"Ah, young Nathan!" Crowly said with a warm smile as he approached, offering a hand to shake.
"Jim." He greeted just as warmly, shaking the man's hand.
"Look at you, coming over to see an old man when you had such a pretty little thing on your arm." Crowly said jovially. "Your future bride?"
"She'd like to be." He answered with a shrug. "But probably not."
"Ah, that's too bad. She looked good with you." The old man prodded.
He smiled politely. "But that's about all she has going for her." He revealed quietly with the subtle undertone to drop the subject. Thankfully, Jim picked up on it and glanced out across the room instead of pursuing the topic of his unmarried status. For now, at least. It seemed to be a favourite subject for the man.
"Quite the turnout, eh, Nathan?" Crowly said, gesturing to the other party-goers. It was a bit of an understatement. The party's patrons consisted of all the most influential people in Area Eleven, from nobility, to business men, to the police commissioner, to military officials. If you couldn't make something happen, you weren't invited.
"What else would we expect from one of the Viceroy's parties?" He asked rhetorically. Prince Clovis' love of grand social events was well known. Even now he could see the prince animatedly discussing something with a group of sycophants on the other side of the room. In order to maintain his relative anonymity and safety, he only ever offered the prince a customary greeting and handful of minutes worth of conversation before allowing the Viceroy to entertain himself with others.
"Ah, Lord Crowly." A voice interrupted beside them, and he had to right fight to keep the smirk off of his face. "And Lord Stadtfeld. Good evening."
"Lord Gottwald." He said in mock surprise and offered a hand to shake. "You're looking well."
"And you, Lord Nathan. I had heard that you were ill." Gottwald said.
Naoto was none too impressed with the revelation that the man was keeping an eye on him, but he shrugged it aside. In this kind of company, everyone had their eye on everyone else. "Just a cold." He said with a shrug. "It is that time of year. But I'm completely recovered now."
"You need to take better care of yourself, Nathan." Crowly chided. "And you too, Jeremiah. You young folk always have the bad habit of pushing yourselves too far these days."
Naoto shared a tolerant smile with his target. "I'm sure you didn't create your empire in your younger years by slacking off. Even if I push myself too hard, how can I slack off when I have your towering success to measure myself against? The Crowly Corporation routinely gains more gross profit per quarter than Stadtfeld Industries, no matter what I seem to do."
"You'll have plenty of time to build your empire. For now you need to worry about more important things. Like finding a wife. Both of you are neglecting your duty to your families by not getting married." Crowly chided.
Gottwald chuckled. "That's what my sister's for. I'll leave the perpetuation of the Gottwald line to her. I'm too busy with my duties to the Viceroy to even consider tying the knot."
Naoto considered voicing the same sentiment for all of half a second before nixing the idea. If it ever got back to Kallen that he said something like that, he wouldn't even be given the chance to explain himself before she murdered him. Treating his sister like some kind of glorified breeding cow was a good way to ensure that she would always hate him.
He still nursed some hope of reconciliation between them. Call him stupidly optimistic, but it was still there. She was his baby sister and he wasn't about to give up on her, even if she'd like him to.
"I'm sure even Prince Clovis would understand if you -"
"Come now, Jim, we'll get married when we're good and ready." Naoto chided, coming to Gottwald's defence. "There's no need to harp at us. Let us enjoy our good looks and charm while we have them. When we're down to just our charm, then we can think about getting married."
Gottwald chuckled. "I'm afraid I have to agree with Lord Nathan."
Point.
"Of course you do." Lord Crowly said, goodnaturedly rolling his eyes. "As I said, you young'uns are all the same these days."
"We just don't hold the same reverence for your old fashioned values." Gottwald said with a teasing smirk.
With any other lord, this banter would have been inappropriate. But Jim Crowly was one of those down to earth types and hated getting formal and serious, especially at these stuffy social events. He was like the elderly uncle that every kid wished would stop bugging them about getting a girlfriend already, but were helpless against to stop the teasing.
That Gottwald knew that much about Crowly meant that he was in the market for currying the man's favour. He couldn't see why else Gottwald would put up with this kind of invasive questioning. There were few who put up with Crowly's antics willingly.
"Old fashioned?" Crowly asked in mock outrage. "There's no such thing as old fashioned. Why, in my day – Oh, damn. That's my wife over there. She's not supposed to drink with the new medication she's on, but she does ever love her wines. Afraid I've got to go. A wonderful New Years to you, my lords."
Naoto let out a chuckle as he watched the elderly man go. "When I'm his age, I'll hope to be half as carefree."
"Indeed." Gottwald agreed. "A goal most men must aspire to - to reach a point where they don't need to worry about anything. Complete contentment with life."
"Too true. I heard Lord Crowly was quite formidable when he was younger. I'm somewhat glad that he's mellowed over the years, or I might not have had Stadtfeld Industries still under my control." He said, only half teasing. The stories he'd heard about the days of Crowly's prime, most of which he'd heard from Crowly himself, were pretty awe inspiring in terms of ruthless business sense and hostile take overs.
"I think he likes you though, so he might have spared you." Gottwald replied.
"Nah, he would have taken us over and made me work for him." He chuckled.
Gottwald was quiet for a moment and Naoto prepared for the man's departure. After all, there was no point in him sticking around since his quarry had escaped.
"A moment ago you said that you were in control of Stadtfeld Industries." Gottwald said cautiously. "I wasn't aware of that."
Oh? Well then, it appeared that he'd miscalculated. Crowly must not have been the only target on Gottwald's list. If the man was looking to establish relations with him as well, so much the better. He could definitely use this to his advantage.
For a split second, Naoto's gaze cut across the room to where his father was busily engaged in conversation with a couple of his peers. Then it snapped back to center and he watched the Margrave beside him out of the corner of his eye. It gave him a sufficiently suspicious and nervous demeanour before he he looked straight at Gottwald and smiled tentatively.
"My father is the president of the company, but he's primarily concerned with the Sakuradite refineries we manage back in the homeland. Everything we control in Area Eleven is my responsibility." He answered cautiously.
He actually didn't give a damn about Stadtfeld Industries, and felt very little remorse over letting something like this slip. If word got out that he was actually the one in charge of the company in Area Eleven, it was very likely that those seeking favours and alliances with Stadtfeld Industries would bypass his father altogether, a move that could potentially fracture the company.
But in this scenario, if that were to happen, Naoto wouldn't mind in the slightest. Because the man he was revealing this secret to was his target. He didn't care what the consequence of such actions might be so long as he was able to get close to Gottwald.
He could tell by the way the Margrave's eyebrow arched that the information intrigued him. Another point in his favour. Now he just had to keep himself interesting.
"That's quite the achievement, considering your age." Gottwald said.
He laughed derisively. "Not at all. Compared to what you do, to having a member of the royal family's safety as your responsibility, it's actually pretty . . . uninspiring."
Flattery always helped.
"I suppose." Gottwald conceded before segueing onto another topic. Naoto smothered his grin and paid close attention to everything he could glean from the man. This was the reason why Lelouch had chosen him for this assignment. Because he was the only one that could get this close to Gottwald without raising suspicion.
Amos shifted uncomfortably under the weight of the tray on his arm. Normally, he wouldn't have a problem with this, but he'd been standing out here for almost half an hour now and the coffee was probably going to be cold by the time he actually got to serve it to Gottwald.
Lizette, the maid next to him, sent him a sympathetic smile, urging him to be patient as another muffled shout came through the closed door in front of them. It had been like this since he got here. There seemed to be a fifty-fifty chance as to weatherwhether the lord of the house would sleep without nightmares.
"What is it that keeps the Master from sleeping soundly?" He finally asked, voice barely louder than a whisper.
Lizette was a horrendous gossip and nosey to the point of being obnoxious, but she was also his greatest source of information. If there weren't people like her around, his job would have been so much harder.
She sent a sad glance towards the door. "Master used to protect an Empress, but she was assassinated. The little prince and princess died within the same year too. He's never forgotten about it. Believe me, the nightmares will get worse as we get closer to the twenty-third."
"What's on the twenty-third?" He asked. Though it was easy enough to guess, he needed confirmation in order to pass the information along to Lelouch.
"That's the day Empress Marianne was killed. Though, he probably won't sleep at all that night, if the last four years have been any indication. He'll come back the morning after, piss drunk." Lizette said with disdain.
Amos blinked in surprise. "Where can a man of Master's social standing go drinking all night without it becoming common knowledge by the next day?"
If this had been happening for a couple years now, and if rumours of Gottwald's drinking problem hadn't become widespread already, it meant there was a place that would shelter a noble's right to drink himself into a stupor without the rest of the world finding out. Some men might not care about the attention such an act would receive, but if he'd learned anything over the last two weeks, it was that Gottwald paid close attention to appearances.
"There's a pub . . . well, I probably wouldn't call it a pub. It's more like a drinking lounge for the ridiculously wealthy. It's called the Fox Hunt." Lizette revealed. "I had to go pick him up from there with the driver two years ago. The poor man was so drunk that he couldn't even stand."
Bingo.
A place where Gottwald would be alone and inebriated. He doubted there would be a better opening than this for Lelouch to take advantage of.
"Enter." A sharp voice said on the other side of the door. Gottwald was finally awake.
Amos shifted the tray again and touched a finger to the coffee carafe to ensure that it was still hot enough that Gottwald would be able to drink it without complaint. It was, so he nodded to Lizette, who opened the door for him and began the house's morning ritual of seeing that their Master was fed, dressed and informed of anything that needed his attention.
Just another normal day at the Gottwald estate.
beta'd/revised by Kasai no Kage, October 25, 2012
