Chapter 9: Setting

Through a great feat of self-control (and a little contribution from his steadily growing embarrassment) Lelouch managed to keep his eyes directed firmly in front of him, scanning through decidedly uninteresting reports. In the background, a green-haired witch traipsed around his room in a white silk shirt -his white silk shirt, which was now probably stained from her grubby, greasy fingers and that disgusting little triangle she seemed to worship.

Pizza. He didn't know how she'd discovered it, nor did he care, but it was quickly becoming the bane of his life.

Every time he left the room and returned, the stack of pizza boxes seemed to grow, and every time he'd get a heart-attack, not only at how ugly they looked, or how she sullied his usually pristine room with grease and oil and globs of cheese, but also with fear. Fear of her being discovered by Clovis, fear of the rumours that would no doubt start to spread about the woman in his bedroom, and fear of having all of his clothing smelling perpetually of cheese from here on now. His cologne just barely managed to mask it, and he was starting to think that he would have to dump the whole bottle on himself soon.

"Are you really going to wear this?" The question was muffled, spoken with a full mouth. Lelouch had no doubt that, should he choose to turn around, he would find a string of mozzarella connecting her mouth to the pizza slice in her hand. For that reason, he did not turn around, remaining stubbornly focused on the papers in his hands.

"Don't touch that," he ordered. "I'd like to have at least some of my wardrobe remain clean, thank you." Also, this particular ensemble would be very hard to simply dump on his help. This, he would have to wash manually, something he was certainly not looking forward to.

She let out a noncommittal, "Hm," but left it at that. Lelouch slowly began to relax, even to the extent of slouching slightly in his chair as he sunk into the monotony of his 'work'. This area needed refurbishing, and that person had complaints, and this road needed to be paved, and god, didn't they ever end? He wasn't sure whether to be amused or frustrated that Clovis still only gave him the most inane of tasks.

It proved his brother had half a brain, at least, which was a whole lot more than Lelouch had previously given him credit for. He knew something was wrong, and was reluctant to hand his little brother any more power than he'd possibly already attained.

C.C.'s voice cut through his daze, speaking in her usual lack-lustre way. "Do you have a name yet?"

The reply was instant, "Zero."

It was surprising in its simplicity.

"Zero?" she repeated. "Not Rei?"

"No. Zero." He did not question how she knew Japanese, merely tossing a folder aside and turning to pick up another. His hand hovered over the manila covering for a second before he changed his mind and opened the left drawer of his desk. He was greatly enjoying the mobility of his left arm again, but accepted that he would have to keep it in a sling in public. It was all part of the little show he was putting on, of the heroic Prince who saves his older brother at the last moment, selflessly taking a bullet for him.

Well, he did take a bullet, but not for him. In fact, Clovis was never really in danger of getting shot at all. Lelouch had been very precise in his order: to shoot him in the arm, no hitting arteries, just the bicep. In and out. The Royal Guard were some of the best marksmen in the Empire, and he had been trusting in that skill, as well as his newfound power, to begin his show.

Once alone with the doctor, he ordered the man to believe that his wound was much more serious than it was. If Jeremiah noticed, he didn't say anything, and Lelouch was free to continue his charade, milking it for all it was worth.

The media loved it, apparently, and were waiting to see if he could produce more. No doubt he'd be used as the ultimate success story; son of a commoner, the mysterious Black Prince of the fallen vi Britannia line rising to fame and recognition.

"How ironic," she said, and he would swear he detected an undertone of laughter. "The hero of the Numbers dresses as a Britannian nobleman, speaks English and even has an English name. Are you intending to mock them?"

Irritated, he looked at her from over his shoulder to find her fingering his Zero cloak with interest. He snapped at her to leave it, to which she only shrugged and bit into her pizza again, but her hand dropped from the fabric, at least, and he was partially satisfied.

"Since when are you so interested in what I do?" he asked, leaning back into his seat. Crossing one leg over the other, he casually began to flip the pages of the report Jeremiah had sent him a few hours ago, eyes scanning over the names. Various students stared up at him from their glossed pictures. One Rivalz Cardemonde had him curling his upper lip in distaste and making a mental note to have Villetta try and scare him off. He was the only boy on the Student Council and appeared to be fairly unremarkable, and Lelouch didn't want him anywhere near his Nunally.

He heard C.C. heave a sigh so dramatic that he wondered if perhaps she wasn't Clovis in disguise.

"It just goes to show how far boredom can take a girl."

"Didn't anyone ever teach you not to speak with your mouth full? It's rude."

"It's also rude to lock a lady up in a room with no form of entertainment."

Lelouch snorted, "What lady?"

She didn't respond to that, apparently deeming it below her, instead asking, "Why Zero?"

"The hero of the Numbers must first be a Number." He stopped flipping when he found the page he'd been looking for. Sayoko Shinozaki.

"Hmmm," She seemed to ponder his words for a few seconds. "Very well, but why Zero? Why not, say, Eleven? It would be more fitting."

"Hardly. I'm no Eleven."

"…But you're a zero?" He looked up at her and, just as he expected, found one of her brows quirked, a smirk playing on her lips.

"…Yes. In a way."

"Oh?"

Lelouch swerved his chair around to face her, his fingers lacing together over his stomach. C.C., forever with that passive expression, faced him as well. Satisfied he had his audience's attention, he began to explain, "Each land claimed by Britannia is given a number: Area 1, 2, 3, etcetera, all the way to Area 18, as soon as Cornelia manages to neutralize the Middle Eastern Federation."

"Yes, that's right."

"But our so-called homeland isn't really our homeland, now is it?" He paused to give his audience time to react; C.C. merely shrugged. "If you think about it, our homeland is technically a wet little island far, far away. So Britannia, the current Britannia… is Area Zero. Thus I am a zero."

"…I see…" C.C. took a bite of her pizza, chewing thoughtfully. Lelouch smirked in satisfaction, proud of his little philosophy, until the witch decided to swallow and open her mouth and ruin everything. "So, how long did it take you to come up with that explanation? Y'know, to make it seem like it's not something you merely pulled out of the air because it sounded cool."

For a few seconds, all he could do was stare at her incredulously, mouth parted slightly until she told him to close it before he let flies in.

Clenching his jaw, Lelouch swivelled back to his desk. Witch. What did she know, anyway?

"…Are those four-inch heels, Lelouch?"

He just barely resisted the urge to slam his head on the wooden surface.


He listened patiently, like the perfect older brother that he was, as Nunally's animatedly told him about her day in Ashford. She told him about breakfast on the patio with Milly and Shirley, about the fun she had when Rivalz raced her across the school grounds, and how delighted she'd been when the Student Council threw her a party. She told him all about her new friends and each of their individual timbres, what their touches revealed to her sensitive palm.

Lelouch was matching the details he gleaned from Nunally to the information filed in his head. He smiled and nodded and commented ever so often, chuckling at her stories even as his fist clenched at the thought of that Cardemonde boy holding her hand, even if it had been at Nunally's request.

"They all sound very nice," he said, dabbing her mouth gently with a napkin. Her disabilities sometimes made it so that the simple task of eating soup became a very messy ordeal He, as her loving brother, took care of that for her. Because she was a Princess, she was his Princess, and must always be in perfect condition. "I'm glad you're happy."

"Mhm. Ashford is a very interesting place!" She giggled slightly, hiding her mouth behind a bony hand, and heard Lelouch's chuckles. He thought it was brought on by Milly's antics, but Nunally surprised him by saying, "I think Shirley has a crush on you, big brother. You should hear how she gushes about you. She says she danced with you one time, and you stole her heart away."

"Really?" His chuckles took on a slightly awkward edge, his grin becoming sheepish. It wasn't that he was embarrassed at having a fan girl; he was embarrassed to have one talking to his sister. He hoped upon hope that girl was as nice as Nunally said, and not the kind to share whatever… ehrm, fantasies she might have.

"You… don't remember her, do you, Lelouch?"

Insightful, as always. Lelouch swallowed a mouthful of soup and shook his head. "I'm afraid not,"

Hearing the slightly apologetic tone seemingly satisfied Nunally, and she nodded in understanding. "Well, you'd like her, if you ever met her again."

"I'm sure I would."

Doubtful. If he'd already met her and forgotten about her, she must not be worth remembering. Lelouch had no time for someone who wasn't even worth remembering.

They chatted pleasantly throughout dinner, and Lelouch sunk even further into this serene make-believe. His plans, his suspicions, his new-found power and the infuriating woman that came with it- it all melted away. All that was missing here was Euphie, smiling at him from across the table, and Cornelia delivering a light whap! to his back should he slouch.

And Mother…

The appearance of a certain Japanese maid broke his illusion, coming to do her job and serve dessert. Lelouch narrowed his eyes at her retreating back, regarding her with obvious suspicion as he sampled the chocolate cake.

She was very efficient. Milly trusted her. She'd treated Nunally with the utmost kindness and respect. She was a qualified nurse. But he couldn't trust her, not for a single second. Because in the end, no matter how good a maid she was, she was still an Eleven.

While Lelouch was not prejudiced, he maintained a healthy suspicion of the Numbers. Because while he may not be prejudiced, there was nothing to guarantee that they weren't. After all, having your country, culture and language torn away tended to leave people bitter, and he more than anyone would understand how it felt to lose everything.

How it felt to hate, but hide it behind a smile. How it felt to despise, but to bow down, hiding a dagger in his sleeve and waiting for the day he could rise from that bow to plunge the dagger into that black, black heart.

Nunally's heart was pure, but hatred sometimes blinded people to the most obvious of things. She had already paid enough for their father's mistakes and short-comings; he would not let it happen again.

After dinner, he wordlessly took Nunally to her room, ignoring whatever protests the maid might have, insisting that she was capable of doing so. Nunally only smiled, reaching behind her to clasp the hand that was pushing her along.

When he lifted her from her wheelchair, Lelouch's good arm suffered. He almost dropped her altogether, if not for the fact she had her arms wrapped around his neck, but in the end he managed to lower her into her bed without having to use his supposedly injured limb. He might have cheated when wheeling her in, using both of them, but he would be insulting Nunally's intelligence if he thought she wouldn't notice him lifting her with both arms.

"It's been a long time since you came to tuck me in," she said as he lifted the covers over her slim frame.

"Not a long time, per se," His lips turned downwards slightly and he brushed a few brown locks from her face. "You've only been here for a few days, Nunally."

"But you've been gone for much longer, big brother."

Well, the girl had a point there. He muttered an apology, one of the few to ever escape his lips, and she said it was okay. "I forgive you, but only on one condition."

"A condition?"

"Hold my hand. Just until I go to sleep."

He was more than happy to oblige, and she was fast asleep barely ten minutes later.

Lelouch planted a kiss on her forehead, slowly pulling his hand away, and made sure she was tucked in properly one last time before he crept out.

There was only one last task left to complete.

"Miss Sayoko, if you don't mind…?" He gestured to the white jacket he was holding.

Nodding, the maid hurried over and held it up for him while he slipped in an arm. "Arigato," he mumbled as she draped the other side over his shoulder. The left sleeve hung uselessly at his side.

When he faced her again, he found that she'd mostly overcome whatever surprise she had at hearing him speak in her native tongue. All that was left on her face was that pleasant expression he'd been seeing all day, that sweet smile that all maids seemed to wear.

"Will your Highness be visiting again tomorrow?" she asked amiably. Her hands were folded together in front of her, a sign of modesty and timidity, but she looked him straight in the eye. This one had pride.

"No, but I'll be here for lunch on Tuesday." He felt the now familiar heat pooling in his left eye as the bird sigil took its place, malicious red bleeding into violet. "I have a few questions for you, Miss Sayoko, all of which you shall answer truthfully."

Immediately, her posture changed, becoming eerily lax. Like a knightmare that had just been turned off, or a marionette without a puppet master. Yes, that sounded good. A marionette. And he was the master. "Yes, your Highness."

Lelouch smirked. "Your name?"

"Shinozaki Sayoko."

"Profession?"

"A maid for the Ashford family."

Good. Now that he was sure it was working properly, it was time to get down to business.

"Are you affiliated to any terrorist groups?"

"No."

"What are your feelings toward the royal family?"

"They are like all people: some are good, some are bad, and some are neither."

"And Nunally?"

"I find her to be a sweet young lady, but strong, to be able to smile through her misfortune. I respect her a great deal."

Lelouch allowed himself to relax a little, a relieved smile spreading across his lips. He didn't have to worry about the maid trying to kill Nunally in her sleep, at least.

"Thank you, Miss Sayoko." He turned to leave, but with an afterthought faced her again, activating his Geass. "Oh, but just in case. You will be loyal to Princess Nunally. Under no circumstances are you to let any harm befall her."

Unexpectedly, the maid smiled at him and gave a slight bow, "Of course, Master Lelouch."

Wide-eyed, he took a step back. Thoughts raced through his mind, piling up possibilities to explain this anomaly. Was there a lag? A time-limit? Or did it simply not work anymore? It occurred to him yet again just how little he knew about his power, and it scared him all of a sudden.

His only weapon, and he couldn't even use it.

Lelouch panicked inwardly, and for once he failed to mask it. Miss Sayoko looked concerned as she reached forward, asking if he was alright, or if he would perhaps like a cup of tea.

He activated his Geass again and ordered her to go back inside. The maid bowed again and did as she was told…

… but she was not under the effect of Geass.

Half an hour later found Lelouch seated on one of the benches that littered the vast expanse of greenery that was the Ashford Academy school grounds with his head in his hands, fingers threading through glossy black hair. The cool night air helped to calm him down somewhat. Now he could think more clearly, to decide the best course of action.

First, he needed to put down several back-up plans. This power of his was fickle, much like the witch who'd given it to him, and he very much doubted he could trust C.C. to provide him with another should his Geass decide to disappear. That is, if it was even possible in the first place. What if a person could only receive a Geass once in his lifetime, after which he would have to pay the price stated in his contract?

He realized then just how much he'd been depending on his Geass for his future plans. Every time he reviewed one of them, the power of Absolute Obedience played a vital part. That was unacceptable; he knew that now.

Second, he needed to experiment. The revelation of possible rules and limits made several questions pop up. He knew he could order a person to do absolutely anything, even things that went against their basic survival instinct, such as to take their own lives. He knew that he needed direct eye-contact. He knew that the afflicted person had no memory of the time spent under the influence of Geass. But his orders had all been short-term, the longest being his orders to his tailor for the Zero costume and the man he commissioned for his masks.

What of long-term orders? He'd been taking his power for granted, simply assuming that once the order was placed nothing could remove it. Several points in his plan depended on placing certain political figures under the influence of his Geass, but would he be able to do it? Was there a time-limit?

And what of side-effects? Those under his Geass often seemed unlike themselves, but could apparently function well enough not to draw suspicion. Were there any other side-effects?

There were too many variables here, far too many for his liking.

Reaching a conclusion, Lelouch was suddenly thankful he hadn't used it on Clovis yet.

But first, to test his theory…

Lelouch was fishing through his pockets for his cell phone when a moving silhouette caught his eyes. He froze for just a split second before resuming his action, except this time he was keeping careful watch on the figure slipping stealthily along. It was after curfew, so the school grounds should be deserted at this time. However, these were also teenagers, so it wasn't exactly unheard of for the occasional student to be sneaking away.

"Hey!" he called out. The figure only moved faster, so he called out again, beginning to walk towards it. His stride was slow and leisurely, like he hadn't a care in the world. In the darkness, she –he could identify the figure as a she, now- would most likely think he was just another student.

"Hey, I thought it was past curfew now?" Lelouch asked, a teasing hint present in his voice. He came to a halt a few feet away from her.

"W-well, yeah,"

That… sounded oddly familiar.

Lelouch ventured a few more steps forward, and his eyes widened when the voice was fitted to a face he recognized. The breeze was toying with her hair, sending the red strands flying all around. She tucked them behind her ear irritably, and Lelouch smiled, thinking he couldn't have any better luck.

Kallen Stadtfeld. Hm, he always did want to know what her little secret was. It appeared he was about to find out.

"P-Prince Lelouch?!" she stammered, staring at him incredulously.

Grinning, he came closer, and made a mental note of how tense she became. Her body was going on the defensive. Very curious for the girl who was supposedly too sick for anything. "I thought we agreed to just call me Lelouch, am I right, Kallen?"

She nodded, bowing her head as she slipped into her usual sick-girl act. That wouldn't do. He needed eye-contact.

Lelouch took hold of her arm. That did the trick- her head whipped up, and her hand too, batting his away with surprising force. (Cornelia. She reminded him so much of Cornelia) Just as she opened her mouth to protest, the bird sigil appeared in his left eye. "Answer my questions."

"Of course." She, unlike most, became rigid under the effect of his Geass, straightening up like a soldier in front of a superior officer.

"You're not really sick; it's just a cover for your secret, am I right?"

"Yes."

"What is it?"

"I'm a fighter in a resistance cell."

It took a few moments for her words to sink in, but once they did, he felt another spark of recognition. Her voice… The Glasgow, could it be… ?

"Were you the one piloting the Glasgow in Shinjuku?"

"Yes."

Lelouch half-laughed, looking back at his thoughts during Sophie Arcroft's party. Oh, and he'd been driving himself mad, looking for the leak that led to the Shinjuku fiasco. There was no leak of information; it was merely that he'd been careless. She could easily have eavesdropped on his and Jeremiah's conversation. It would certainly explain why she ran off so suddenly.

Still, at least she wasn't a closet smut-writer who might use him as the basis for one of her characters. This girl might even prove useful.

"Why?"

"Because I'm Japanese," she replied. "Though technically, I'm half-Britannian."

A half-breed… Well, well, aren't you full of surprises?

"So you resort to terrorism?"

"There is no other way. Britannia needs to be stopped. Also," And here, there was a split-second of reluctance. When she spoke again, her words were slightly softer. "I am carrying on my brother's dream."

"I understand… Are you going to meet your comrades now?"

"Yes."

"For what reason?"

"Counting our losses. A lot of people died in Shinjuku, and we lost a lot of resources."

"Your comrades, what are their names?"

Kallen came to her senses a few moments later to find the Prince wearing a very wide smirk that she was just dying to slap off. Still, at least he wasn't touching her anymore. Although… When had he moved away?

"Where are you going?" he commanded. There seemed to be a gleam in his eye. Kallen scowled. Damn spoiled idiot, so used to having everyone subjected to his every whim.

"That's a private matter," she stated. If it wasn't for the fact they were still in Ashford, she might have gutted him and gotten it over with.

Lelouch closed his eyes, seemingly satisfied, which only unnerved Kallen further. "I see," he said, "I apologize for asking; it wasn't my place. Goodnight, Lady Stadtfeld."

And so he turned around, his left jacket-sleeve whipping through the air, and left without another word.

The bad feeling that manifested in the pit of her stomach since then was only explained the next morning while she was sitting with the rest of the Student Council. While she was away, they'd apparently taken to having brunch with the new student, Nunally Lamperouge. Kallen would admit she liked the girl, regardless of her status –nothing less than a Marquise, she thought, given the guards that were situated outside the Club house.

"We interrupt this broadcast with breaking news!" the anchor-woman said. "The men suspected for being behind the attempted assassination of his Highness Third Prince Clovis and Eleventh Prince Lelouch have been apprehended and identified as Elevens: Yoshitaka Minami and Kento Sugiyama. They are currently being…"

The rest of the words were drowned out by her classmates' chatter, but it was all meaningless buzzing to Kallen.

Nobody saw her quietly mouth the names of her comrades, and her distressed look was passed off as merely another onset of her illness.

"They didn't do it," she muttered, thinking they wouldn't hear her. But Nunally's keen ears caught the words and she surprised them all by saying, "I don't think they did it either."

The gang's attention was now on the two, rather than the television, which showed Minami and Sugiyama being hauled off.

"Mm, yeah. Something's off about this. I mean, how could a couple of Elevens make it through the Royal Guard?"

Milly posed a very good question, although it did grate on Kallen's pride to admit it, but it was true. There was no way in hell a Japanese person could have made it that deep into the Command Centre, not even an Honorary Britannian.

"Well, you can never put it past those terrorists," Rivalz said. "I mean, just look at that Shinjuku thing."

Milly just shrugged, and it was obvious she was unconvinced.

"What do you think, Miss Villetta?" Shirley asked, and all eyes turned to the dark-skinned woman in interest. They often seemed to forget she was even there, but Kallen never did.

"Yeah, have you heard anything?" Rivalz's curiosity apparently overrode whatever fear he had of Nunally's guard. "I mean, you're pretty high up, right?"

Villetta's back straightened, her chin raising just a notch, evidently pleased by that comment. Kallen guessed the woman had to work her way up; she'd never heard the name Nu in noble classes, and generally nobility didn't take as much pride in being called 'high up'. They'd have accepted it as a fact of life by now. Thus, if Villetta Nu was nobility by birth, the response would have been a scoff, or a quirked brow, or something that would have said, "Of course I am."

"Since I'm not in the thick of things, I can't tell you much," the woman answered. "However, investigations have pointed at them, and one can only assume they have gathered conclusive evidence of their involvement."

Milly wagged a finger, "You know what they say about assuming..."

Nunally took Villetta's hand, lifting her head to look up at the woman. "You talk to Lord Jeremiah, right? Did he say anything about brother?"

Ah, there he was again. That nameless brother everyone kept gushing about.

"Your brother seems to be the one who insisted they be trialled, my Lady."

Nina gasped, "And Prince Clovis listened to him?"

"Jeez, the man must be his best bud or something!"

"They're practically brothers," Milly supplied, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. Rivalz mouthed a 'wow', but frowned a little. Most likely, he was despairing at the competition.

Kallen might have pitied him, but found it a little hard to do so now when her friends' lives were on the line.

"It doesn't matter," she said, eyes fixed on the screen. They were broadcasting one of Clovis' melodramatic speeches. The Prince's arms swept to and fro, his handsome features twisted in a show of anguish and rage. "Even if they are trialled, they'll be found guilty."

No one spoke after that, and the silence was stifling; they all knew it was true. What kind of judge would ever absolve two Elevens, after all?

So when the Ashfords' Japanese maid, Sayoko Shinozaki, came in to tell her she had a phone call, Kallen just barely managed to keep herself from running. She only nodded and followed the maid, breathing deeply so she could maintain her façade when she heard Ohgi's voice on the other end, because she had no doubt it would be him. Who else would call her?

She waited she was sure Sayoko had left before lifting the receiver to her ear, "Hello."

But it wasn't Ohgi on the line.

"Glad you're still alive, Q-1."


"16:00 hours, the day after tomorrow. The observation deck on Tokyo Tower. Come alone."

She hadn't, of course, come alone. If this really was the voice from Shinjuku, he'd be smart enough to know that she wouldn't.

Maybe he did, and this was a test.

Maybe he was just an arrogant brat that felt she'd obey his orders without hesitation.

From the tips of her eyes she watched Ohgi and Inoue, hands laced together and admiring photographs of the Britannian troops storming their Japanese beaches. They looked like an average Honorary Britannian couple, like good citizens who had finally accepted their roles in life.

16:04

Where was he?

Kallen was anxious, and with good reason. What if he'd been arrested after his communication? What if he'd been a Britannian mole all along, leading them into a trap.

She resolved to wait for five minutes. After that, she was getting the hell out of here.

She heard a ding-dong, and then a pleasant voice came from over the speakers. "Attention please. Paging Miss Kallen Stadtfeld of Ashford Academy." Kallen's eyes narrowed, her head snapping up. He was drawing attention to her. Was this on purpose? What was he playing at? "One of your personal affects had been turned in at the kiosk on the observation deck."

She wasted no time in making her way to said kiosk. It was okay to look concerned, she figured. After all, she'd apparently lost one of her things.

There, she was greeted by a young Britannian woman in pink, who nodded when she said her name and turned to retrieve the object.

"I'm assuming this phone is yours, Ma'am."

Kallen blinked down at it, testing its weight in her hand. There didn't seem to be anything concealed in it. Maybe she should have a crack at it later, though. Just in case.

Having assured the woman that it was indeed her cell phone, Kallen walked away, contemplating the little black object. One thing she couldn't help but noticing: this thing was pricey. That Voice was going through a whole lot of trouble just to get her attention.

She nearly stopped in her tracks when it started to vibrate, but managed to make it to the windows, gazing intently at the name displayed on the screen.

Zero.

Inoue and Ohgi were nearby. She could hear them. It brought her some sense of comfort to know she still had them, at least, and enough confidence to lift the phone to her ear, clicking it open.

"Um, hello?"

There it was, that unmistakable baritone. "I want you to board the outbound train on loop-line five. Bring your friends."

"What?"

Once again, he hung up on her. Kallen's fists balled up in frustration, swearing in her head. She would do as she was told, but this was the last time.


Normally, Jeremiah took immense pride in his prince's young age, even as others would scoff at his childish antics, because only he had been trusted enough to know the true workings of Lelouch vi Britannia's cunning mind. And he would roll his eyes inwardly whenever Andreas Darlton or Gilbert G.P. Guilford warned him about the coming years, wishing him good luck and saying that he was sincerely going to need it.

Only now did he understand, after Prince Lelouch had gone missing for the third time that week. It seemed he really was going to need it.

Tapping his fingers irritably on his desk, Jeremiah waited for his prince to pick up. When he did pick up, it took every ounce of self-control he had not to yell at the boy and demand his whereabouts, or lecture him about the dangers of running off unguarded like he had last time. The Eleventh Prince and Sub-Viceroy did not take very kindly to be treated like a child, especially not from Jeremiah.

"Prince Lelouch," he greeted stiffly.

"Jeremiah, what is it? I'm busy." For some reason, the teen was panting.

"Forgive me for interrupting, but I'm merely doing my job. As you will recall, your Highness, I am the head of your personal guard and-"

He heard shrill laughter on the other end and froze. He heard as Lelouch tried to quiet her down –for the laughter definitely belonged to a female- and the blood slowly drained from his face, realization dawning on him.

When the Prince returned to the phone, he sighed and with an almost apologetic tone said, "I… guess you heard that."

"Yes."

"Like I said, I'm… I'm busy."

Jeremiah had never felt more awkward in his life, bar perhaps when he'd accidentally walked in on his Majesty the Emperor and his wife, Lady Marianne, while they were taking advantage of their children's absence from Aries by being rather daring in the main study.

He gulped, banishing the thought from his mind. "I understand."

"Thank you."

He hung up, still unbelieving.

Margrave Jeremiah Gottwald was being faced with a very jarring new reality, as he realized for the first time that his brilliant prince and liege was, first and foremost, nothing more than a teenage boy.


Ohgi and Inoue were situated at an exit on either side of the train, eyeing their surroundings warily. Once it started moving, their position would be useless, but it provided them with some form of comfort nonetheless. If there was a trap waiting for them at the next stop, they'd be ready to run.

Kallen was seated away from them, between a bespectacled young man and a rotund man holding up a newspaper. He was supposed to be reading it, but she noticed that his eyes never moved. He'd been staring at the exact same spot since she first boarded, which made her on edge. In fact, all of the passengers were acting extremely suspiciously.

She clenched her knife-pouch tightly. In her other hand was the cell phone, black and sleek and completely inconspicuous.

"Attention all passengers" She heard over the speakers." If you become aware of any suspicious items on board, please alert metro personnel by telephone."

The phone vibrated, and it flew to her ear.

"Face forward and look to your right. What do you see?"

Kallen stood up from her seat and did what she was told, turning to face a view of the settlement. It didn't surprise her that he could apparently see her; they'd been counting on his presence on the train, whoever the hell he was.

"The Britannian's city," she answered. "It was stolen away from us, and built on our sacrifice."

"And on the left?"

The difference was obvious, from sleek and modern to desolate and barren. Kallen breathed. "I see our city. Remnants of a desiccated city after the Britannians sucked it dry."

"Good answer. Now make your way to the front of the train."

He hung up on her, which was fast becoming a regular occurrence. It was a little more tolerable now that they were supposedly meeting him.

Kallen beckoned her comrades and headed toward the front of the train. In the back of her mind, she acknowledged the speaker announcing that the next stop was Okubo. The crowd was thicker in the next car, but even when she elbowed her way through, no one so much as batted an eyelash. She forced herself to ignore it.

Finally, they were at the front car, which appeared to be completely empty save for a lone figure in black. Impulsively, she pushed forward, confident in the knowledge Ohgi and Inoue were close behind. Even if he had a gun on him, they could take him down.

"Was it you?" she asked, coming to a stop a few steps away from the door. "Was it you on the phone?"

They received no answer. Kallen heard Inoue whisper that this was probably a trap.

Agitated, she stepped forward, demanding, "Was that you in Shinjuku?! Was that cease-fire your doing?"

"Hey!" Inoue said. "We're talking to you!"

The figure turned to face them a split-second before the train went into a tunnel. The surface of his mask glinted eerily in the overhead artificial lights.

"What do you think of my tour of the settlement?" he asked, almost casually. That was his voice, she recognized it, but magnified.

"Your tour?" Ohgi repeated. Inoue scoffed, shaking her head, "There's no way it was this joker."

Kallen was half-inclined to agree with her. The man was swathed in a dark cloak with an impossibly high collar, in a spiked mask that reminded her of the king in a chess-game. At any other time, she might have laughed, except this was the voice, she was sure of it.

He called her Q-1. A chess fanatic. The fact he considered himself the king was hardly surprising.

He continued as if they hadn't said anything, his magnified voice reverberating in the empty car.

"I wanted you to fully grasp the two. The settlement," Here, he extended his left arm, lifting his cloak and exposing the elaborate suit beneath. "And the ghetto." He extended the right. Now, he looked more like a bat than anything else.

"Yeah, we know," said Ohgi, coming forward. It looked like he was shielding Kallen and Inoue. "There's a difference between us and them. A very harsh one. And that's why we resist them."

"You're wrong." His arms were hidden beneath his cloak again. "Britannia will not fall to terrorism."

"Fall…?"

"It's little better than childish nuisance."

Kallen's temper flared at that statement, and the almost condescending tone it was spoken in.

Inoue obviously felt the same, for she lifted her fists, "Excuse me? You calling us a bunch of kids?"

He was completely unfazed, as if they really were no more than a bunch of unruly children. "You should know your enemy- it is not people, but Britannia itself! It is a war you must wage, but not on the innocent! Take up your sword, fight for justice!"

"Oh please!" Kallen was quite fed up with all this dramatic talk. Justice? Just who did he think he was, anyway? "That's all easy enough to say, isn't it? Hiding behind that mask! Why should we even trust you?!"

"She's right! Lose the mask!"

Ohgi nodded solemnly, "Right. Are you going to show us your face or not?"

"Very well," he said, and Kallen's eyes narrowed in suspicion, thinking that he'd given in much too easily. "I'll show you…"

He's got something planned, she thought, even as he spoke again. "But rather than my face, bear witness to my power." He paused, seeming to think, and at length said, "If I deliver to you the impossible, then I might have earned your trust."

"The impossible? Like what?" Kallen demanded.

"Anything. Anything at all. For instance… How about I free those friends of yours?"

The words caught in her throat, but thankfully she had Ohgi to speak for her, sceptically asking if he was serious.

"I do not joke about people's lives, Kaname Ohgi. At trial, they will be convicted and sentenced to death. Their execution will be widely publicized; Clovis likes that, he likes to show off and taunt his enemies. It is then that I will perform my miracle."

"Miracle, huh?" Inoue snorted.

"Can you really do it?" Kallen asked quietly. Her jaw clenched, she looked up at the dark figure. The mask stared back at her. "Can you save them?"

"Yes." His word was final, she could feel it. And while she still had her suspicions, Kallen was willing to hang on to his confidence.

"I have your support, then?" His shoes clicked loudly as he walked forward. The train was finally out of the tunnel and sunlight flooded through, illuminating him further as he extended a gloved hand toward them.

Ohgi hesitated for only a second before he took the hand, shaking it firmly. "Just so long as you give us your miracle."

"Of course." Kallen imagined a smirk twisting on the lips behind the mask. "Zero never goes back on his word."


A/N: Once again, I had to borrow dialogue from the series, so credit to most of the dialogue in the train scene goes to Episode 4. Other than that, s'all mine. Heh.

Things are getting exciting now! The next chapter will see Zero's debut, as well as many awkward moments for our dear little Prince. Thank you for reading, and I hope you've enjoyed it so far!