Chapter 9
Code Geass is the intellectual property of Sunrise Studios. No financial profit is made from this story.
A/N: Guys, this is an exposition chapter. Meaning- lots and lots and lots of exposition. Action is not this chapter's main point. So I apologise if you become bored. Writer's block struck me at the same time as several things in my life went haywire and this chapter underwent several rewrites before my beta even saw it. Even after I rewrote it it still didn't meet my expectations.
But here is the end result. I hold my benchmarks to be Charles Bhephin, Academia Nut, Adrian Tullberg, Amber Myst, B-Corvus Corvidae-M and Pat Squared in terms of quality. Obviously I'm not at their levels yet but I work at it when I can, in between all the stuff real life has. Check out their stories and you'll understand why I use them as benchmarks.
This was originally a lot longer but I pared it down even before I sent it to my beta. There is a lot of background information and I'll cover that in the other chapters which are more action and plot-oriented but right now you'll have to suffer through this like I did. :)
Schneizel el Britannia or Sigismund III, High Conquistador of California and the 101st Emperor of Britannia as well as its last. Fhajad Sorentho Sahar, Shah-Emperor of the Indian Commonwealth. The first and last Shah-Emperor. Altair Sahar his half-brother, the Morning Star, the brightest light in the heavens and the foulest devil of the deepest infernal hell. The orchestrators of the Rafzakael Requiem. May their names be damned in the history forever for the dream of peace they made reality....and for the cost so many paid in blood...and may their souls be pitied....for I would have committed the very same acts as them had I known then what I know now.
-Viceroy of Japan, Karen Stadtfeld-Kozuki (Kozuki Kallen/Kallen Kozuki/Karen Kozuki attb. Different sources), Red Queen of Rafzakael, first Chairwoman of the Central Military Commission of the Federated Commonwealth of Earth
"Schneizel. It was him. He had the vision and strength to drive Britannia to victory and the wisdom to rule once peace was won. For all his aloof coolness, he alone has an emperor's soul in his blood. Each of us carries parts of our parents within us, whether it is a hunger for battle, a talent for war, a calculating intellect or a determination to succeed. Schneizel held all of Charles vi Britannias ruthless cunning and all of Adela Gibraltar's brilliant intelligence, all of this honed to a deadly edge from young under the tutelage of Miguel de Silva, Master of Assassins and High Lord of Britannia, answerable only to the Emperor himself. It should have been Schneizels throne from the beginning .... and may his soul rot in hell forever for what he cost me and my loved ones"
-Nunnally vi Britannia, the Nightmare Baroness, 100th Empress of Britannia (deposed by Schneizel el Britannia the White Hawk Emperor), restored as Empress Nunnally Bellatrix Lamperouge of the Britannia Dynasty
.. What did these men have in common? They were more moral than they thought they were. That's a start. But they acts they committed were.....they were men. More than men. More than ogres. Less then saints. The acts they committed were more immoral than they could ever imagine. And what's worse is that they had to do it. They needed to do it. There was not a single person close to them who saw the toll it took on them. I looked up to Altair and Fhajad. My emperor. My patriarch. The Rafzakael Requiem destroyed them. And me who was complicit in the requiem? I was just a man, doing what I thought needed to be done. God, Allah, Buddha, Krishna, Jesus, Jehovah or whoever the hell it is will probably cast me into the deepest hell me if what the religions say is true. But hell, I'd rather fight the war in Hell than enjoy the peace of Heaven. For the glory of war. Heh. We were stupid young boys. Now I'm a stupid old man. Let the young ones have their future. A world without men like me or Lelouch, men who kill children and helpless innocents....now that is a paradise.
-Director (ret) Khalid ibn al-Asad, Chief of the ISI (Inter Service Intelligence). Private memoirs.
A day after the Tokyo Decimation, the colossal stratospheric fortress Kurukshetra hovered above the ruins of Tokyo, a pall of grey smoke hanging over the ruined city as fires burned throughout the ruined megalopolis, twisted skeletons of buildings melting in the flames as ribbons and beams of steel melted in the inferno. Volcanic ash saturated the atmosphere for more than a thousand kilometres in every direction, a shroud visible from orbit that enveloped vast tracts of East Asia and stretched south to even the landmass of Australia. The lava flows from the open caldera that had once been Mount Fuji had been redirected by combat engineering teams working around the clock. They now flowed into Tokyo Bay, hardening and expanding to solid rock as it cooled.
Barographs had registered the pressure waves from the explosion worldwide while for the first time in recorded history an earthquake with a magnitude of 10 on the Richter scale had been recorded. The explosion generated by the detonation of the sakuradite mines beneath Mount Fuji had been heard as far away as Hawaii, the sound waves travelling across the Pacific to reverberate half a world away. The only comparable incident was Krakatoa.
The Tokyo Decimation as it had been termed by both the world media and the government was the single largest disaster the world had ever encountered. Several carefully timed bombs had been detonated in the sakuradite mines beneath Mount Fuji and around Tokyo itself, resulting in makeshift FLEIJA warheads that had fractured the earth into lines of weakness that ran the length of several kilometres beneath Tokyo.
Tokyo Bay now extended in tendrils into the island, large chunks of the city submerging beneath the waves as they slipped into the sea, the ground fractured by the explosions that had shattered the shell of the thriving metropolis. More than three quarters of the population of Tokyo was either dead or dying, the survivors suffering from inhalation of the volcanic ash and chemicals that saturated the air. Rescue teams slowly made inroads while the few surviving elements of the Tokyo municipal government tried to coordinate what resources they could.
The harbourage outside Tokyo Bay filled with a vast flotilla of both military and civilian ships, all anchored there to deal with the growing humanitarian crisis that had engulfed the entirety of the Taiheiyo Belt megalopolis. Aircraft soared overhead in spiralling turns while helicarriers and floatships hovered silently, all in a vast cloud that surrounded the colossus which cast its ominous shadow over the ruins.
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Altair surveyed the ruined city from the command deck of the Kurukshetra, the response of the Sahar Dynasty to Damocles. After the revelation of Damocles the Sahar had covertly built up their own fortress platform in their mountain fastnesses of the Geo-Fronts, self-sustaining subterranean cities carved into the mountain rock.
Biding their time and patiently waiting, they'd kept themselves hidden and isolated, watching the Demon Emperor's actions from afar. Their enormous wealth that numbered in the tens of trillions of dollars and psi powers along with the warrior elite of the Kshatriya Corps had shielded them from intervention or discovery by the great powers. Wealth was little limitation of the Sahar Dynasty..
Miguel de Silva had done his part through covert agreements that bound the Diamond Lotus and Sahar in a loose alliance that was now further boosted by the actions of Alamgir Netanyahu and Fhajad Sahar. It was in their mutual interests that they remain shielded and anonymous in the world. The existence of Geass was a public secret that remained largely unconfirmed by the governments of the world. The existence of an entire race of psychic humans and a collective of immortals was the last thing the general population needed to know. Conspiracy theories about Illuminati were the last things the Sahar Dynasty or the Diamond Lotus needed or wanted. Wielders of psi powers had an avowed desire to avoid being dissected.
Surrounding them were several more fortress platforms similar in size to Damocles. The Kurukshetra dwarfed all of them, itself more than twelve times the size of Damocles and outfitted with an arsenal that most could only speculate at. Even the Zero Requiem had failed to take into account that human nature remained human nature.
In a relative universe where abounded many powerful entities of one sort or another be they countries, organisations or people, a power vacuum had to be filled. A response had to be found. And so in secret Kurukshetra and the Qogir-class stratospheric fortresses of the Sahar had been produced in the remote fastness of the mountain plateaus of the Himalayas.
It had been a point of contention amongst the Black Knights and in a spirit of goodwill they'd been granted to the Black Knights by Fhajad as an act of good faith. An act that had earned his own rise to power in the authority of the Black Knights to the ranks of Secretary of Defense. Now events had fallen into place such that they were once more under the control of Altair Sahar, the current Acting CEO of the Black Knights maneuvering to have them under his personal control once more.
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Karen stared listlessly at her Knightmare Frame. Twisted and battered armour peeled away, exposing several layers of armour plate that was charred and twisted, ripped away in strips from the various kinetic impacts and other battle scarring it had incurred in the aftermath of the sakuradite explosions that had rained debris and ash down on Tokyo.
Dhamsig's own Indra was in no better shape, liquid nanocrystal bleeding from it. While constructed of more advanced monocrystalline and polycrystalline titanium alloys it had a solid layer of beta carbon nitride and other ceramic carbide armour layers that reinforced it, granting it survivability and durability comparable to Karen's own.
Technicians and mechanics clambered up and down the scaffolding that enclosed the Guren Toukijin. The nanowelders and plasma cutters flared as they went to work, surgically cutting through layers of circuitry and replacing them with new wafers and filaments of silicon, plastics, optical fibres and countless other pasts, removing electromotive fibre cables and installing new lengths of reinforced diamond weave.
Karen's arm was in a cast, the humerus of her right arm fractured at the middle, compounded by five broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder along with a broken metacarpal. A moderate concussion rounded out her array of injuries. The symptoms were all there; irritability, dizziness, fatigue, memory and attention problems, difficulty sleeping. Etcetera.
Karen glanced around the large hangar of the stratospheric fortress they were in, filled with the hustle and bustle of hundreds of work crews as they attended to the task of salvaging the hundreds of K-Frames and other vehicular frames that littered it. The Kurukshetra, stratospheric fortress and command nexus of the Indian Commonwealth, currently the acting command centre for the Black Knight CENTCOM (Central Command). She watched as dozens of Indra's, Shen Hu's, Harimau's, Gekka's, Zangetsu's and Vincents crowded the chamber, many of them bearing the markings of the Colombo Division or the Kshatriya Corps of the Imperial Sahar.
Rakshata walked up to Karen, hands on her hips as she adopted a stern lecturing tone. "Karen...what the hell did you do to my Guren? Shields that could match a Shinkiro. Armour that could withstand everything short of a point blank shot from a Mordred's Stark Hadron Cannon and even then resist that for a good minute. A neural interface the match of a Sutherland Sieg with a supercomputer and host AI to boot. My god.....just look at it now.....". Rakshata trailed off. Rakshata chose not to mention that it was a test type whose worth alone was at least a hundred and thirty billion euros.
Karen looked at her Guren and back at Rakshata. The once elegant machine, godlike in its capability, divine in its possession of firepower and superb in its maneuverability stood stripped bare before her. But the fact that it was functional at all and she alive was a miracle in itself.
Karen's Guren Toukijin had been blasted through at least 20 skyscrapers in the initial shockwave. She'd stopped counting after the impacts had knocked her unconscious. Analysis by technicians had revealed that her Guren had been subjected to conditions of temperatures and pressure that were the equivalent of a 15 kiloton nuclear warhead exploding on top of her. That she'd survived and been functional at all was only due to Rakshata's engineering and design and Dhamsig's own psychic prowess. The shields had taken the worst of it and were now non-functional, their circuits burnt out. Dhamsig was no better, his psychic abilities neutered.
The prototype Lambda Driver or "non-Newtonian false-axis repulsive field generator" along with the experimental Zero Point Energy Field Barrier she'd installed in Dhamsig's Indra combined with his own telekinetic shields and the overlapping Blaze Luminous shields had allowed both of them to survive the prolonged blasts, along with their 'lucky' burial beneath several thousand tons of steel-reinforced concrete that had shielded them both.
An unwieldy lump of black metal alloys and plastics was towed into the chamber, a thunderbolt symbol with a raging demon scrawled on the side, the stencilled name burnt away. Rakshata followed her gaze with a curious look before shrugging.
"That's a new model. A Ganishka. A variant of the Iruel chassis which is based on the Israeli Vashiel. Insanely tough. Nowhere near as advanced as my Guren. I helped to engineer the systems for it though. Only the Kshatriya use it. Unwieldy. Not elegant at all. A machine of pure brute force. My GT and Indras' are far more capable than that piece of scrap. Still...one must admire it in a way. I designed it in part after all. Structurally tougher than a GT but with your shields you don't need to worry. But I doubt you even had time to read the manual or familiarise yourself with the new model did you?" Rakshata asked with an eyebrow cocked.
Karen shook her head. She'd barely even had time in the past few weeks to really understand the capabilities and limitations of her new model. Her head slowly drooped before she forced it to rise again, staring through bleary bloodshot eyes at Rakshata whose brow was suddenly creased by lines of concern.
"Karen. How long have you been out of bed?" she asked slowly, tilting Karen's chin up. Karen smiled wearily. "3 hours roughly...I think. They need me out there. As soon as my Guren's fixed up I'll just leave. Got to get out and help...." she finished as she leaned her head back against the steel bulkhead and instantly fell asleep.
Rakshata shook her head. Currently on a cocktail of mild sedatives and antibiotics along with anti-nausea medication, Karen was in no condition with all her broken bones to even go near the cockpit of a Knightmare. Her current state proved her assumption to a tee. Taking her arm and draping it over her shoulder, she signalled to one of the Kshatriya present to help transport Karen to Rakshata's own quarters. In the back of her mind she was glad that she hadn't mentioned how expensive the prototype Guren Tokijin was – roughly 800 billion euros in total. The amount of paperwork that was in store for her was hellish. Not to mention the reaction of her husband to her reasoning for sending it to Karen in the first place.
In the back of her mind, she thanked the unknown doctor for increasing the dosage of Karen's sedatives. Given how the Demon Emperor had appeared on the scene once more, Karen would need all her strength to confront the vagaries of the coming conflict. And she would be a centrepiece in it if Altair had anything to do with it.
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"Maharaj, the reports are in. It is confirmed. Senior Warrant Zaki Kim of the 1st Singapore Guards/1st Guards Ultra is dead. Master Sergeant Anwar Ramachandra is currently on life support in critical condition. The doctors do not expect him to make it. He's suffered third-degree burns and extensive nerve damage across 80 percent of his body. His spine is severed at eight separate points, all 26 vertebrae in varying states of breakage while his tibia, fibula and femur are fractured in both legs with contusions on both kidneys and liver haemorrhaging. Compound fractures in his ribs resulted in punctured lungs working at ~10 percent. His situation......we are making him comfortable."
Altair acknowledged the news with a nod and sat down on the chair, concealing his weariness and grief. The aide left the room quietly, leaving his Maharaj alone with his thoughts. Zaki had been a close friend of his, one of the few he could trust with his life. In a family like the Sahar Dynasty, if your relatives and cousins weren't trying to politically exploit you in a race to get to the position of Grand Patriarch of the dynasty or jockeying for favours, then they were trying to assassinate you.
Zaki and Anwar had been trusted associates, family friends whom he'd known for decades. The only people within the Sahar Dynasty you could truly trust were your own siblings and even then....well, he and Fhajad were the exception to the rule.
Not since the pogroms within the Sahar Dynasty enacted by his father when he was a child had he ever felt so overwhelmed by the burden of responsibility, of being the Grand Patriarch of the quarrelling houses. The legacy of his mother Ashima Sahar, herself the Grand Matriach of the Sahar Dynasty before him weighed down on his shoulders. The mother he'd assassinated with his own mind.
Fhajad was indisposed while the leadership of the Black Knights had been annihilated for lack of a better word. Tohdoh was in critical condition with a ruptured spleen and damaged liver, Xingke had suffered a broken back and Kaguya Sumeragi had been mind-wiped, left a drooling vegetable by an unknown telepath. All of this orchestrated by a coaltion of terrorists and Kyoto purists that no one had ever heard of or even expected to be able to pull this off, lead by a resurrected Lelouch who'd now renamed himself Tuathal.
The material losses inflicted by the attack could be replaced easily enough but not the personnel. Morale amongst the elite units of the Black Knights – the Kshatriya Corps, the Guards Ultras and the Snow Wolf Commandoes – was at an all time low with several senior command staff dead or MIA. For the Guards Formation of the Singapore Armed Forces, itself a component of the RFAMC (Riau Federation Amalgamated Military Coalition), they'd lost several of their best soldiers and two legendary figures in a single blow.
Kaname Ohgi, Secretary-General of the Black Knights and Prime Minister of Japan was in a coma brought about by severe trauma to his head and faced the possibility of never recovering. His own bodyguards had turned out to be Kyoto Purists and had shot him in the head but failed to kill him. His wife and son were safe onboard the Kurukshetra, currently in the quarters of his second wife, Imperial Consort Rakshata Chawla.
All of their Division Commanders, each and every one of them High Generals, lay dead either by suicide or by assassination. Generals Frederick Szymanowski, Indira Tharoor, Ahmad Khayrallah and Nguyen Van Nguu, Hong Gu and Sugiyama Kento had been systematically eliminated during the chaos of the Tokyo Decimation by Kyoto Purists, apparently in alliance with De Dios.
Zaki Kim and Anwar Ramachandra were men who inspired loyalty and respect in those that followed them. The former was dead by apparent suicide while the other was on the verge of death from somehow miraculously surviving a nuclear grenade that had disintegrated the rest of the people present.
The entire affair left Altair Sahar directly in command of every military asset of the Black Knights. With the news of Xingke's coma, subversive elements in the Chinese Federation had quickly taken the opportunity to launch a stealth coup. Several Chinese units of the Black Knights had defected over to the usurpers, all of whom had coincidentally been extremely powerful men under the reign of the High Eunuchs. Which left the Indian Commonwealth and the UFN itself in an extremely fragile situation.
Within Japan several former members of the Kyoto Houses had formed the Kyoto Purification Alliance, seeking to purify Japan and restore it to its former glory. In India, several rogue members of the Sahar Dynasty had colluded with De Dios and other rebel groups to engage in a terrorist rampage that focused on attacking the Jewish and Muslim communities, stirring up violent religious fervour in the multicultural milieu of India.
In short Altair was facing a threat that had managed to hide from several established intelligence agencies, three of them considered elite in nature and used as the benchmark for all others; namely the Riau Federation Special Branch, the Inter Service Intelligence of the Indian Commonwealth and the Black Knight Military Security Directorate. And all of it coincided with the 'resurrection' of Lelouch vi Britannia, now calling himself Tuathal vi Britannia the First. And the end result had been the three major powers of the Black Knights destabilised.
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Chancellor Schneizel and Defence Minister Ferdinand Marcos gave inward groans as their analysts briefed them, summarising the thousands of pages of information and data that had been compiled and collated over the past few days. In a single stroke the Indian Commonwealth had been caught in a diplomatic quagmire, their European and Asian allies both demanding their attention even as their domestic territories were ravaged by civil unrest.
Britannian territories had been attacked and destroyed, least of which had been the destruction of San Francisco and San Diego. The Subic Bay naval base's capacity had been overwhelmed by the remnants of the heavily damaged CBG's (Carrier Battle Groups) that had survived and were now being frantically overhauled in preparation for whatever was to come next. Durban and Cape Town in South Africa, both major centres of industry and commerce, had been wiped off the map by FLEIJA warheads.
But far worse was the issue of Tokyo. The world supply of sakuradite had been disrupted to a degree not seen since the Second Pacific War, when Britannia had invacded and occupied Japan 15 years ago. Many major countries had switched to using available industrial stockpiles and were prepared to tap their strategic reserves while prices of sakuradite skyrocketed. Tokyo, the largest exporter of sakuradite, was now the centre of a major humanitarian crisis. Just three days and the world was in chaos.
Tensions had arisen as well after the sinking of several large freighters in the congested MalaC.C.a Straits just in between the Riau Federation terrirory of Malaya and the Indian possession of Sumatra. The MalaC.C.a Straits were a critical chokepoint whose waters were patrolled by the Indian Commonwealth from its bases in Sumatra, the Malayan Confederacy and the Riau Federation. At its narrowest point it was 5 km (3.125 miles) across. More than three quarters of European sakuradite supplies were transported through the Malacca Straits as well as more than half of the Indian Commonwealth's own sakuradite supplies.
The sinking of the freighters had rendered the straits unnavigable, leaving only the Northeast Passage that skirted the Russian Arctic territories and the Sunda Straits, a pirate-infested cesspool renowned as the most lawless region of the vast Indonesian archipelago. In a single stroke the sakuradite supply to several major world powers had been disrupted severely, stock markets crashing with a massive humanitarian crisis across multiple regions at once.
Britannian satellites had also detected a massive mobilisation amongst the military and paramilitary reserves of the Indian Commonwealth and the Black Knights the minute Altair had taken command. With more than a third of their navy destroyed in its entirety and critical infrastructure non-existent, both India and Britannia along with the European Union and the Black Knights as a whole teetered on the edge of a war. Except there was no clear-cut enemy in this entire mess!
What made it even worse was that India was involved in a web of diplomatic and military alliances that would absorb all its attention. Their European alliances via NATO were required as India served to balance the power of Germany and France within Europe while serving as a countermeasure to the Russian Federation's influence in Eastern Europe and Central Asia.
Similarly within the Black Knights the Indians counteracted the influence of China and Japan, acting as an arbiter and benign imperial superpower that not everyone liked but one that nobody could do without. But it all boiled down to ensuring a multipolar world where a balance of power prevented abuses by the great powers like Britannia, Japan and China. It was oft-forgotten that Japan had been invaded by Britannia with tacit approval by all the other major world powers in the first place because they'd abused their status as themajor sakuradite supplier to disrupt the world economy.
The role of the Indian Commonwealth in both Asia, Europe and Africa was simple – to provide a benign intercessor that protected the interests of itself, its protectorates and its allies against the superpowers of the Russian Federation and Britannian Empire while balancing the internal conflict that erupted between China and Japan in the Asia-Pacific, all the while ensuring a stable supply of sakuradite and petroleum-derived hydrogen to all the major world powers.
Schneizel gulped down the ice cold water, letting it trickle down his throat before following it with a powerful slug of raw caffeine that burnt his throat and woke him up. At the back of his mind the knowledge that Miguel de Silva had died protecting Hera and Nunnally, killed by his own men while under the power of Geass, left him numb.
Miguel had been an instrumental father figure in his life, more so than even his biological father who had been more or less a sperm donor, a distant and aloof man whose ideals he coincidentally shared as well as genetics. Not much more than that. But he neither had the luxury of time nor emotion to waste. Later he would mourn but now....
"Chancellor...Lord Altair wishes to hold a conference aboard the Kurukshetra. The delegates from the EU, the NAM (Non-Aligned Movement) and Black Knights are currently gathered onboard. The Empress intends to attend the conference" an aide spoke into his ear. Schneizel nodded and waved the aide away. Rising, he left the command room of the stratospheric fortress as he strode out to atrium of that overlooked the Pacific.
The view that met him was one of awe-inspiring might as the Kurukshetra hovered on the horizon, visible even from their location on the other side of Tokyo Bay. For even as the Kurukshetra and the Qogir Fortresses had been built to counteract the might of Britannia and counterbalance the European Union, so had the platform of Damocles been rebuilt in secret once more to restore the supremacy he had once aspired for Britannia to possess.
Balance. Counterbalance. Cogs in an intangible gear that continued its slow rotation, unstoppable except by the greatest forces of humanity. Such was international politics. And such was human nature. For humans would always respond to a threat by creating a tool of equal or greater magnitude to counter that which threatened them.
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"Silence!"
Altair's voice carried across to the assembled conference, gazing across the delegates as his basso voice flowed over all of them, the delegates of the various nations suC. to a sudden desire to obey this man. Of large stature and imposing height at 1.98 m (6'6) tall, he'd inherited his father's and mother's stature along with the leanly muscular build inherent in the paternal line, silver streaks of hair in otherwise raven-black crop that contrasted with skin the colour of bronze Honduran mahogany. A savage grace lay beneath the veneer of erudition he projected, a Fenrir wolf whose maw dripped with icicle fire as he surveyed his prey.
His steel grey eyes directed the full strength of his personality across the room, subtle use of his voice, body language and psi powers to bend them on a barely detectable subconscious level. The video of Lelouch announcing his return from the dead had been replayed. The same one that had been distributed as a viral video on the Internet.
Nunnally had the momentary look of a deer caught in the headlights before she flicked on her psi nullifier, glaring back at Altair. Her experience with Geass had left her more sensitised to the sensation of a psychic in her mind. Altair nearly laughed. It was open knowledge amongst the Sahar, the Diamond Lotus and the future in-laws of his half-brother that he was the most powerful psychic on the planet bar the secret one that the Arbitrator of the Diamond Lotus, his father, had hidden away as a wild card.
"Everyone knows this video is not a hoax. The voice records and the retinal patterns match that of Lelouch vi Britannia. The allegations that Suzaku Kururugi is Zero are neither confirmed nor known at this time. I will not comment on that and neither will access be granted to Zero. That is final. Given the nature – Senator Bush. Do you have something to add?" Altair asked, glaring at the Texan aristocrat who silenced himself in mid-speech.
The Shah-Emperor Fhajad was known as a charming, lovable rogue who was self-confident to the point of arrogance yet genuinely warm and genial, approachable to all and sundry. A genius thinker at home in the library and political debates as much as he was in combat. Matching Schneizel and providing a foil to his formal manner, the only man who surpassed him in turn was Altair.
Altair's strength was as a strategist, thinker and a writer, a supreme executor of reason and logic, a contemplative man of honour with great moral courage and tenacity. He was self-possessed, had a good strong voice and won the confidence and trust of those who dealt with him. And during those rare times he spoke it was usually something profound and wise.
But there was another side to him that Alamgir had once described with this phrase; "With magnanimity that matches his ruthlessness and an intellect that could outwit Fhajad, Lelouch and Schneizel combined, he's the most dangerous man I've ever known in my life. And I'm glad his allegiance is to us. But never forget who his parents are. He's as unpredictable as his father and as ruthless as his mother".
He was the anti-Chaos, possessed of an innate ability to spontaneously crystallise a workable structure out of disorder, seen in the current recovery and salvage operations. And a man who inspired no small measure of terror in his enemies as well. As expected from the Grand Patriarch of the Sahar Dynasty. A man who'd assassinated his own mother to attain the throne.
He gazed at Schneizel, ripping through the psionic scrambling and psychic vortices generated by the psi nullifiers in the room like so much useless chaff as he implanted the message in their minds. "Meet me in my chambers later. We have much to discuss."
"Given the lack of progress, this conference is to be adjourned for six hours. Prepare your motions in that time. In the meantime I suggest that conference members do their best to get rested. We're all in for a long night."
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Schneizel glanced around the room. Noticing the thick Kashmiri and Persian carpets that hung from the walls, many of them antiques made of woven silk and other natural fibres, he noted the sort of books that Altair kept in his personal library. The works of Carl von Clausewicz, Antoine Henri Jomini, Lee Kuan Yew, Goh Chok Tong, Deng Xiaoping, Pervez Musharraf, Marcus Aurelius, Bernard Montgomery, William Joseph Slim, Erwin Rommel, Hyman George Rickover, Story Musgrave, Nelson Mandela and Vladimir Putin, amongst many noted statesmen, philosophers, military theorists and other people of renown.
Altair apparently had a penchant for reading biographies and political theory. A well-thumbed volume on chess history and strategy was also there, standing out beside a book on card tricks and prestidigitation. He noted how the chess pieces were carved from sapphire and opals, perhaps the only other visible display of wealth besides the carpets. The Sahar Dynasty was one of fabulous wealth and weren't afraid to use it.
"There are several hundred books in this library. A small part of my collection. Most of my collection remains in the Imperial Archives of Colombo" Altair spoke as he strode into the room, pulling off his robes to reveal the armour beneath it.
Consisting of plates of aqua-plastic, dense multi-bonded polymers that possessed strength above even Titanium, it could turn a blade and stop most kinetic projectiles up to – but not inclusive of - 30 mm depleted uranium which had a tendency to rip through most materials. Shakplas or shak-plastic, a
The lean build of a life spent in the military and surviving the labyrinthine politics of the Sahar Dynasty showed in the hard-bitten forty five years of age and the hard eyes, faint lines of age radiating outwards from them. Still, he looked comparatively youthful for a middle-aged man, seemingly in his early 30's rather than his actual number of years.
"You called me to talk. So talk" Schneizel said smoothly, pulling out a teak chair and depositing himself in it. He shifted his robes slightly to expose, perhaps intentionally, the ceramic needle gun he kept on himself at all times moving in its holster. Coated with a potent neurotoxin, he'd developed into a healthily cautious individual after a lifetime spent on guard against assassins.
"I'm sure by now that your analysts have spelt out the consequences of all that's happened" Altair spoke casually, settling into his high-backed chair. Schneizel grimaced. They had enough problems as they were.
"I read Miguel's documents. He'd been following leads on De Dios, piecing everything together. He thought it was some fringe group that posed a minor threat. Obviously that isn't the case any longer. De Dios has demonstrated its capabilities and we know its leader. Lelouch. Or at the very least an imposter -" before being cut off by Altair.
"That's no imposter. He's the real thing" Altair quietly replied. He'd had his analysts run multiple checks and voice printed him as the genuine article. Audio analysis confirmed it as well as the reports of the few surviving Guards Ultras of the 1st Battalion. Lelouch vi Britannia had been present in Tokyo. He'd been present, coordinating his troops and followers, exploiting the chaos he had created to his advantage. He'd been the one to mind-rape Kaguya into her vegetative state.
"I presume you've heard of Kurukshetra's capabilities? A response to the Damocles system you built, I ordered its construction to guard against Damocles should it ever arise again. Plama-based Hellbores. Railgun-based Hellrails. Coil-gun based Magnetic Accelerator Cannons. All in the megaton range of firepower. 500 nuclear warheads in the multi-gigaton range with more than two thousand tactical sub-megaton nuclear warheads and multiple N^2 positron weapons along with subatomic intrinsic field disrupters. All of them are deliverable to multiple points on a global scale via railguns. Now imagine that compared to the multiple FLEIJA warheads of Damocles. We outgun you. Extend that thinking to what would occur if either of our countries engaged in a total war. Not to forget the AIs which manage the entire system which is capable of picosecond reactions."
Schneizel sat rooted to his chair in shock. Was this a threat? A warning? A cold anger began to take root in his emotions as he ran through the possible scenarios, observing the body language of the man before him. This man was no fool.
"It is a warning Schneizel. You're an intelligent man. This is not a threat. What I'm saying is that what will occur will be MAD. Mutually. Assured. Destruction. No matter who wins, humanity will be extinguished by the sheer amount of ecological damage to the biospheres. Factor in our orbital strike capabilities which are fully operational and not at the prototype stage as you think and what we're talking about is sufficient firepower to shift Earth into an orbit that will leave it that much more inhospitable to life, complete with island to continent-sized chunks of the planet floating behind it. Even the minimum will spawn a nuclear winter. Compound this by the psychics I have at my command, with myself and Fhajad being the first and second most powerful psychics on this planet and you have a recipe for disaster. Do you want this? Unlimited nuclear, biological and chemical warfare compounded by psychic terror weapons, orbital artillery and X-ray lasers?"
"No."
"Good. Neither do we. We face an enemy whose actions were calculated on a global scale to push Britannia into taking the initiative. Durban and Cape Town were economically dominated by investments sourced from India and China. Britannia still maintains a power projection capability while India, China and Japan are destabilised and in no position to act. The situation benefits Britannia despite the losses you've suffered. But they did not take into account the technological advantage that the Indian Commonwelath maintains over Britannia or our capabilities. Capabilities which you only suspected at due to your spies, ineffective as they were."
Altair continued, punctuating each and every point he made with a cold, cutting logic that senior bureaucrats had come to expect of him. Precise. Clinical. Reason.
"We face an enemy that coordinated with multiple factions to destroy multiple members of the Black Knights HIGHCOM and senior members of my staff. An enemy able to cooperate with extremist Islamist and Japanese purists. An enemy that wants us to go to war without the full knowledge that doing so will destroy us as a species. An enemy which has destabilised the two strongest military powers capable of halting any Britannian actions in the Indian and Pacific Oceans - China and India. All of the events that have happened here tip the balance in the favour of Britannia. Your decision or rather the decision of Nunnally will make or break the situation. And depending on the outcome, I will have to respond. Make the right choice."
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Fhajad wheeled himself along on his wheelchair, his Kshatriya sticking closely to him. In the past several days several factions within the Sahar Dynasty had attempted to have him killed via poison or other numerous means. But what they failed to take into account was that amongst the sprawling houses of the Sahar Dynasty on this world was a very simple rule; within the domain of Altair, it was best to observe discretion in such acts. Crossing both brothers at the same time only invited retaliation.
He halted at the entrance to the Thorn, the private float-frigate of Miguel de Silva, his deceased father figure and mentor. A flicker of images, of the few occasions when he'd been truly happy flashed through his mind. Of rare childhood days, of a summer spent aboard the Thorn, experiencing the webs of intrigue that the Master of Assassins wove around himself and those he served.
Altair had circulated publicly that he was in a coma. A fabricated story to allow him a degree of mobility in how he operated. More than ever he needed someone he could trust. Navin perhaps? That would have to wait for a bit though. His younger brother had a part to play yet in the schemes that were to come. Navin Chirac. His wildcard. The Ace-in-the-Hole. Altair's Instrument. The embodiment of the Demon. It was something that Altair had inserted into Navin's mind under the watchful care of Rania and Alamgir. Navin was many things, but he served as a contingency within himself.
He turned and saw two large men escort Schneizel to the walkway as well. He sized them up as did his Kshatriya, knowing exactly who they were. Gaheris Templars, products of Geass research and biological engineering that had produced men of phenomenal physical prowess and reflexes. Super soldiers. But he smiled smugly, letting Schneizel read the message behind the smile. His Kshatriya could still take them, as could any senior Guards Ultra with a Geass canceller or psychic nullifier.
He dismissed his Kshatriya, knowing that they would respond within seconds should he issue the call. The Thorn was psychically shielded, psi scramblers capable of hampering even a Master of the Mantle, they who possessed the Longevity of Guardianship, its power greater than even the Code of Immortality. A psychic measured at Tier 4 RKI (Rakshata-Kurzweil Index) would have enormous trouble with it as well as a Tier 5 like him, as Miguel had intended. A Tier 6 like Altair who limited his powers with self-imposed mental blocks wouldn't be bothered in the least by the barriers if he so wished. Altair had many secrets, his psi the least among them.
"Hello Schneizel. Would you care to wheel me or shall I help myself?" Fhajad asked slyly. Schneizel glanced at him before walking forward without a word, entering the Thorn through the portal. Fhajad shrugged and let his psi do the work, spinning the wheels of his wheelchair and following behind.
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Schneizel glanced around the conference room on board, noticing the outstanding pieces of taxidermy that filled the room. Perhaps the only macabre things about Miguel was the fact that he had a tendency to have the heads of his enemies stuffed and mounted. Miguel was if anything a predator of human beings, something he'd taught both Fhajad and Schneizel how to be.
"So that's where it ended up..." commented Schneizel as he stared at the stuffed corpse of George Washington, instigator of the Washington Rebellion that had nearly formed the United States of America. The glassy eyes stared out at the wall even as it held onto the antique musket, well-oiled and no doubt still capable of working.
In his childhood and well into his mid-twenties the Thorn had been his surrogate home. As a young man in his prime, amongst the imperial heirs to the throne and all that came with it, Miguel had facilitated Schneizel's love life, allowing him to use the frigate as a den of sorts, bringing back his romantic conquests for days spent luxuriating in the opulence of the ship. Many a young woman had been wooed by the dashing young prince before being deposited at their respective homes with respectably sized cheques in hand to buy their silence. If not, they were paid a visit by certain members of Section 6 of the CIS (Central Intelligence Service) who...reminded them of the need for silence.
He settled into the mahogany chair where he'd spent a fair amount of his youth poring over stories from Greek mythology, learning about the tales of the Trojan War, of the bravery of the ancient Spartans at Thermopylae. He remembered back even further, to nights spent sitting by the fire on a cold winter as Miguel's eyes sparkled with mischief, entertaining him, Euphemia, Clovis, Cornelia, Lelouch and Nunnally with entrancing tales of King Arthur and his knights and other things besides. He always remembered the man speaking with a certain animation, as if Miguel himself had been present right there as Arthur had pulled the sword from the stone....
"Memories. All dust. Ashes. Just like you old man...." Schneizel thought sadly, gaze wandering over the shelves, now filled with framed photos and books. He turned around to see Fhajad wheel himself into the room, a bottle of some indistinct liquor in hand.
"Schneizel. I brought some Jamaican rum along. Three centuries. From the cellars of the Sahar Palace in Colombo. My mother kept a large collection there and this bottle in particular is special. On the day of my birth, when my mother first stated her desire to see the Indian Commonwealth as a reality rather than a dream with either of her sons as the ruler, Miguel gave her this bottle. Amazing how things come back one full circle. I propose a toast."
Clinking two small glasses, Schneizel raised his first. "To the Master of Assassins. To the Whispering Death of Britannia." Fhajad raised his own, adding on to the toast. "To the only man I ever feared. To the only person besides Lelouch whom I regarded as an equal."
"Salud!" the two spoke simultaneously as their glasses clinked together. They downed the rum in a shot, relishing the burning sensation of the liquor as it flowed down their throats. Finally, they could attend to business. Placing it on the teak table beside him, Schneizel steepled his hands together. They could finally get down to business.
Fhajad looked him straight in the eye as he began. "I've got a proposition for you Schneizel. How would you like to be the Emperor of Britannia?"
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Suzaku sat alone in his and Nunnally's quarters, staring at the television screen as Lelouch's video was replayed over and over on the main news networks, accompanied by overviews of the ruins that were once Tokyo. Craters dotted the landscape, a thick smog of concrete dust and pulverised steel filling the air. Embedded correspondents attached to units of the Singapore Guards and Commando battalions entered the field, a hellish landscape few humans could have imagined.
Outside the quarters he could hear the pacing of the guards. The charade was over. For 5 long years he'd masqueraded as Zero, champion of the people, slayer of the Demon Emperor of Britannia. Five long years carrying the burden of his best friend. A burden that had bound him to live despite his deepest wish to die. Forever alone, carrying the burden of the world's peace and happiness on his shoulders. He'd walked alone, a dark path whose only brightness had been Nunnally. Now.....it was over. The whole world knew. Lelouch or Tuathal as he preferred to be called had revealed everything. The deception. The misdirection. Maskirovka.
All they'd sacrificed for the sake of the Zero Requiem, the fragile peace that held the world together. Gone. Yet somewhere within him he felt.....relieved? Unburdened. It was no longer within his control. It was no longer his burden. A burden that had nearly destroyed his sanity with its terrible weight. He was no leader. Just a follower. Just a mortal man. Not like Lelouch. Suzaku was no longer Zero. But he was no hero either. Yet now....
He had found a reason to live. For Nunnally. For....the future. But what was the future now? An uncertainty. Since his public unmasking three days ago he'd kept to his quarters, unable to show his face in public. An attempted assassination of him by a Singapore Guardsman had nearly succeeded if not for a Guards Ultra who'd intervened, and then only reluctantly, was telling. Suzaku had stared into the Guards Ultra's face and could see the restrained rage within. His brother's dead, the peace broken, all for the sake of a deception that he'd been a principal in. For all his talent and skill in combat, Suzaku knew there was no way in hell he could survive a direct fight with a Guards Ultra.
Suzaku was the co-conspirator of the most hated man in modern history. The man who'd deceived the entire world. Even now it continued, countless machinations of the sins of Britannia, India, China and Japan filling the Web, most half-truth, very few being lies. He'd felt the subtle scans of the Kshatriya who protected him on orders from Fhajad and Altair. Most of them had thought of killing him, only their restraint preventing as such. Nunnally's own bodyguards couldn't be trusted.
The situation he was in was precarious. There were only two outcomes to his current predicament: public execution, preceded by a trial and an uncovering of all the secrets concealed by him or miraculously escaping with his life intact. He didn't want to factor in what the new Tuathal could do, given his knowledge of Lelouch. A possibility stood that Tuathal could even come after Suzaku, recruiting him to his faction.
All Suzaku could do was to sit and wait with folded hands. The very thing he had thought impossible had happened. What was impossible was for a man not to choose. And now Suzaku had no capability to choose.
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Tuathal vi Britannia, formerly Lelouch vi Britannia, pondered the strategic situation. The swift appearance of the Kurukshetra was the last thing he'd expected, much less Amshel. The Damocles was an unknown factor but the addition of the Indian superweapons platform worsened it. A wildcard that had been unplanned for, leaving chaos in the wake of his entry. The conditions were only partially met for his plans.
What was meant to trigger a war or at least minor skirmishes between the great powers had suC. greatly in destabilising the UFN along with China and Japan while diverting India's attention to the numerous Islamist groups that had arisen in the past few months. The destruction of the Sinai, Jerusalem, MeC.C.a and Medina would aid greatly in diverting India's resources to pacifying the Middle East. The three greatest military powers capable of stopping Britannia's rise were taken care of. Now it fell to Nunnally or the internal forces arrayed against her within her regime to act.
Miguel de Silva was a non-factor, his corpse cooling in the morgue of the hospital ship Washington, his body frozen to preserve it for the eventual state funeral. The biggest threat as Amshel had mentioned to him had been dealt with. The Wily Old Weasel was finally dead.
The hybrid clones Amshel had provided as footsoldiers had been exceedingly efficient, more so than even he'd expected. They shared a communal telepathic consciousness which allowed them to coordinate with each other to an exceptional degree without fear of interception and allowed for superb intelligence gathering and combat efficiency. That they were able to cause their enemies to hallucinate by virtue of their telepathy was an added bonus. Ruthless, relentless and superbly trained in an advanced virtual environment and subliminally, the genetic memories of their clone-fathers a vital resource each of them had aC. to.
But now Tuathal had to halt the progress of the various factions and ponder. The Islamists within the Middle East and India were free to act as far as he was concerned. They were a useful distraction from the attentions of the ISI and the Central Asian nations who funded him would provide a useful distraction as well. But the Diamond Lotus were a different matter as were the Sahar Dynasty. Hidden resources were being mustered and forces rallied as a way to counteract him.
The next obstacle in the way of his strategic plans was the one the dwelt within Europe. The Arbitrator. If anything at all worried Tuathal and Amshel, it was that Miguel would have discovered them. But ever since aC. the Diamond Lotus archive in Antarctica, an even greater threat had risen. Tuathal and Amshel had come to an understanding of why their efforts to destabilise Europe had been halted. It was time to enter the parlour of the spider and slay it.
The Arbitrator and the Morning Star. Aziz Zahedi and Altair Sahar. Little did the newly christened Tuathal, the 'Ruler of the People', instrument of Amshel and Hera, realise the irony that was about to befall him and those he opposed.
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There are some cosmological theories, developed from the mathematics of quantum mechanics, that posit an infinite number of alternate universes, covering all possibilities. Every possible outcome of every event, everything we can imagine, and uncountable googleplexes of universes more strange and wonderful than we can imagine. An Omniverse.
Alamgir lived with the reality of that knowledge. As much as his immortality and knowledge separated him from that, he also chose to live in the present, in the single moment of space-time as it presented itself to him, his existence but a small mote in something bigger.
Tlaloc's Legacy. That was the name of the artefact En Sabah Nur....no. It was Aslan. Aslan had crafted it long ago. The die had been cast and as it rolled, the benevolent intent of the Diamond Lotus unravelled before him.
His thoughts turned to a man he'd respect long ago, one of the few whose story was told honestly and truthfully in history. Once a friend, once a brother, forever passed into the ashes of time. Marcus Aurelius. Caesar of the Roman Empire.
"How much more grievous are the consequences of an event than the causes of it...."
Worldwide estimates had conservatively placed losses at 105 million lost with the injured numbering in at 10 million. This was the lower bound of the estimates. The high number of casualties had been due more to the thoroughness of the bombings than anything else. Of this number, a bit less than half had come from the Indian Commonwealth, primarily from the two cities of Mumbai (Bombay) and Kolkatta (Calcutta).
This was out of a total world population of 8.4 billion, which resulted in estimates placing it at 1.25% of the total world population. Needless to say, the destruction of Mecca and Medina had left the Muslim diaspora hostile towards Japan and India upon the leaked revelations over the Internet by senior staff within the defence establishments of both nations that it was a jointly built Indo-Japanese weapon that had destroyed their holy cities. Their governments denied it but then again, how had the people responsible gotten the weapon?
Disseminated at the speed of light, the conspiracy theories flew fast and furious over the Web, terabytes of data that held slivers of truth, flowing through the servers of Europe, Africa, South America and the Asia-Pacific. The overwhelming flood of data in the information ocean was itself a precursor of the storm of conflict that was soon to flood the physical world.
And Lelouch had shown himself but in the most unexpected way. But there were two Lelouches. One who called himself Tuathal vi Britannia. And the other Lelouch who sat across from him, arms rigid and fingers digging into the arms of the couch he sat on, focused on the television before him. The one who called himself Anton Maras.
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(A Day Earlier)
Lelouch and C.C. walked side by side along the river of Arles, enjoying the cool breeze that blew across them, bringing with it the vague salt tang of a distant sea. Arles stood on a branch of the Rhone where it split to form the Grand Rhone and smaller Petit Rhone, forming the Camargue delta that bordered on the Mediterranean.
They stopped to watch the sun set behind the rolling hills of the park, their hands intertwined in the manner of the well-married. Lelouch glanced back at Raven and Aziz who followed distantly behind, themselves holding hands in the manner of the long-married. A lovely though slightly eccentric couple if C.C. had anything to say about it.
Lelouch suddenly took a scrap of paper from his pocket and began to draw something on it, turning away from C.C. and giving it all his attention, throwing quick glances at her. She tolerated this for a few minutes before her curiosity got the better of her.
"Lulu, what're you drawing?" she asked. "A map" was the languid reply as he finally finished his frantic actions, letting her see the piece of paper. She looked and threw a questioning glance at him. "Is this a map? It looks like a closeup of my eyes". Lelouch looked at her, a spark of mischief floating in his eyes. "A map of your eyes. Because I often find myself getting lost in them....."
Time suspended as she looked at Lelouch, slowly bringing one hand to his face and another to her mouth before ceasing her momentary internal struggle. She doubled over, snorting with laughter. "That...oh Lulu. That's so sweet...and corny. Oh my god!"
"Glad you appreciate it" he drawled in a deep Scottish brogue. C.C. giggled and gave him a playful shove in the shoulder. The peace of the moment was broken as Lelouch suddenly collapsed to his knees, gasping in pain as he held his temples. The audible grinding of teeth reached her ears and she dropped beside him. The revelation of his telepathy had been a shock to both of them, C.C. knowing that it wasn't his Geass.
The only rational explanation either could come up with was that En Sabah Nur, the man who'd resurrected Lelouch, had gifted him with the power though C.C. wasn't very sure whether telepathy was a blessing or curse. Being able to talk with those who actively existed in the World of Consciousness was one thing. Being able to read and alter the thoughts and experiences of human beings was something only reserved for possessors of the Mantle or those with psychic abilities...and C.C. knew Lelouch wasn't psychic.
Then slowly she began to feel it, the screams of a million people and more that emanated through the World of Consciousness, that filled the collective world within which the dead lived, a layer far deeper than even those of the Code had the ability to reach unless within the World of C itself. A scratching at her mind, jagged glass that tore at the superficial layers. She immediately withdrew, feeling the tiny awareness that was her daughter recoil in fear. But it only got worse. Doing what she could, she projected feelings of love and warmth, trying to shield the tiny mote from the screaming.
Suddenly a blanketing null filled her mind, an ice cold wave of relief that filled her. She heard the grinding of tooth against tooth cease, the sudden silence in her mind, the breeze continuing to blow across them. She looked up at the hand that held her shoulder, following it to its source.
Raven's eyes glowed a dull blue before fading to their normal aquamarine colour, Aziz helping Lelouch up from his foetal position on the ground beside him. Fragments of memory flowed and spiralled in helical patterns through her mind, evading her grasp as she realised that she did know Aziz. The aching familiarity she felt when she was near him.
Then it hit her. She scrambled back away from him, looking at him in pure shock. She'd never told Lelouch of the gap in her memories, of the missing 150 years of her life that she'd lived, unable to remember anything beyond the fragile images that she so tenuously held, lightly touching them with her mind. His face flashed to the forefront as she finally realised who he was. All she knew of that gap was that she was happy. She had been loved, truly and deeply, just like Lelouch loved her now. And the face of that man was the same as the man in front of her now.
The man she'd loved centuries ago. The man who'd been the father of her firstborn son. The one who'd disappeared as abruptly and cryptically as he'd come, taking her memories and leaving only the faint trails of his foot 150 years later. Gabriel.
"Gabriel." Aziz looked at her and a vague glint came to his eyes. He cast a look at Raven and shook his head. At that moment she heard a gasp come from someone close by before he found herself enveloped in a pair of familiar arms.
"Caramia. My god....Caramia" she heard in her mind, the voice laced with a profound relief. It wasAlamgir Netanyahu. The Grand Master of the Diamond Lotus. The new En Sabah Nur.
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(The Present)
C.C. glanced at the inscrutable face of Gabriel of her past and Aziz of her present as he stood in the kitchen. She'd known that face intimately, had been introduced to most if not all of the carnal pleasures she knew from him especially. The selfsame man who'd been good-natured and jovial in their inn so many weeks ago was the man who'd fragmented her memory, disappearing with their son more than five centuries ago, when she'd been young and naïve. The man who'd aided in her masquerade as Joan of Arc.
Across from her sat the stoic Alamgir, his expression reduced to a contemplative one as he scanned the people around the room, gaze lingering on Lelouch before flicking across to her slightly rounded abdomen. The story of Lelouch's origins had been revealed to all, Lelouch not taking it well in the least. To be told that one was the original Lelouch, the consciousness of said individual inhabiting a body that was originally cloned for nefarious purposes and how a new clone had unsurprisingly surfaced within the same span of time...was not an easy story to absorb.
C.C. had always been aware of the higher powers that existed above the Geass Directorate, of how those of the Diamond Lotus took it upon themselves to remain in the background as simple observers of history while the Geass Directorate actively altered history. The Diamond Lotus could have taken measures at any time yet chose not to, leaving those who held the power of the Code to engage in internecine warfare over the centuries until it had been whittled down to just her and V.V. Victor Vargas di Britannia.
She knew their mission and purpose for amongst the holders of the Code of Immortality she was the one closest to the Diamond Lotus and their Grand Master, Alamgir. She'd also been the adopted daughter of the En Sabah Nur, Aslan. The late Aslan as it was. Now Alamgir held the power of both.
"Did you know I have a nephew?" Alamgir asked her. C.C. shook her head. Alamgir continued. "His name is Navin. By blood he is a descendant of the Emperor Napoleon and the Romanov Family on his mother's side and thus a claimant to both the thrones. He's the son of Benjamin. I'm sure you remember him. He died 16 years ago. Killed by assassins from Britannia, the Chinese and the Sahar Dynasty. He's in Tokyo now under the care of Fhajad. He also happens to be the young Karen's boyfriend."
"A small world after all. Isn't that what Ben said all the time?" C.C. replied.
Alamgir nodded. "I manipulated events so as to place my own family into the path of calamity. I knew that Lelouch once loved Karen and I knew too that Navin would be attracted to her. How I knew? Aziz told me. I placed Navin near him because Navin is a wildcard, manipulated and engineered as an anti-psychic weapon, invisible to oracular sight like Bruce and Tony. Karen is a pivot point of time, a potentiality that can lead to an actuality. The highest chance was of her encountering Lelouch but now....well, there's Lelouch and then there's Tuathal."
"So Lelouch was resurrected by En Sabah Nur by restoring his original consciousness to a prototype clone that he stole from an enemy he couldn't see. But more clones were being produced and so he attacked and disrupted them, destroying their capacity to create more clones like Lelouch semi-permanently. In the process he got himself killed. Am I up to speed so far?"
"Yes."
"And you did this in a calculated effort to find me and Lelouch because you require a man of Lelouch's calibre to carry out the plan you have in mind for humanity's survival, given the current threat. Which you don't really know that much about anyway" she added on at the end.
"More or less Caramia. Or is it Cera? I never remembered which name you preferred. But that's beside the point. I saw a threat on the horizon. All the Stewards of the Mantle saw it. The enemy has in his possession an artefact of sufficient power to create a psychic shroud that is an antithesis to my powers. Were I to use them I'd die like Aslan and I don't intend on that just yet. Not until I know who it is. At the same time Aslan drained his powers destroying their ability to make more clones of Lelouch so I'm still recovering from that. The powers are regenerating but slowly. They're also disrupted by whatever artefact the adversary has. Tuathal is but one of the brains behind this. There are forces more powerful than him behind this. Someone high up in the ranks of the Britannian government, that is certain."
"So your idea basically consisted of finding me and through me, finding Lelouch and recruiting him in an effort to take care of this mess. And why should he? It's not his burden. Not anymore. He suffered through the Zero Requiem to make this world a better place. He doesn't deserve this and you know that."
"And as you can see, all he worked for is coming apart. Miguel de Silva is dead, the Sahar Dynasty is split from within with rogue factions colluding against the Shah-Emperor, the great powers are destabilised and politicians lacking the experience of the old generation have their fingers hovering near the triggers to their nuclear arsenal. The world is on the brink of collapse due to the reaction against the Zero Requiem. He wasn't thorough enough. And then we have the damnable Arbitrator..." Alamgir finished, the last few words directed in a harsh tone against the man who sat in the kitchen, humming as he chopped up the onions for dinner.
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Dinner was a quiet affair, punctuated by attempts at conversation that drifted off into silence. Alamgir kept his gaze on Lelouch and Aziz as did C.C. Finally, as Raven cleared up the dishes, the women quietly moving off to the kitchen, Aziz beckoned for Lelouch to follow him.
Lelouch stood up slowly, weary of all the changes. Tokyo, his home for nearly half his life lay in ruins, who knows how many of his old associates dead or dying. His sister Nunnally had been maneuvered into a precarious diplomatic position, caught between the disenfranchised military she'd gutted in the last five years with her policies, a means to curb the expansionist desire of the empire. Slowly, the cogs of the mind that had once led the Black Knights to countless victories and orchestrated the Zero Requiem began their slow work.
Forces were at play in the here and now that had lay beyond his understanding. He'd heard rumours of the Diamond Lotus but only now did he truly understand their potency. The Illuminati were a myth, a misdirection constructed by the Diamond Lotus over the centuries to direct attention away from them. The Geass Directorate that he had thought extinct was a hydra, its countless branches and supporters scattered throughout the governments of the world, nurtured by members of the Sahar in retaliation for his ascent. The wild psychics, liberated from the main weapons program and collaborating with Sahar rogues, sought to undermine the Indians and the Chinese.
He could guess at Alamgir's intent. Caramia had told him enough of Alamgir to know that the man could be trusted to an extent. Trusted as far as an immortal potentially capable of causing supernovae and breaking down the walls of reality across vast swaths of the galaxy could be trusted, truth be told. That was the gist of what Caramia had told him.
The trio leaned against the balcony, Alamgir nursing an orange vodka, Lelouch a Bloody Mary and Aziz a cold San Miguel beer. "So who are you really?" Lelouch began. "C.C.'s been uncomfortable as hell around you and all I could get from her was that you're the Arbitrator. Oh, I know what the Diamond Lotus is. C.C's filled me in on all the blanks. You're what the Illuminati dream of being" Lelouch spoke as he glanced at Alamgir and Aziz.
Alamgir coughed. The Illuminati were a myth that was a product of a misinformation campaign that a bunch of fabulously wealthy Jewish banking families had successfully exploited to try and have a go and ruling the world in a typical secret conspiracy.
Unfortunately for them they'd chosen to cross Ashima Sahar in her younger days nearly a century before. Being as powerful a psychic as she was, life extension therapies such as genetic rejuvenation and telomere extension were one of many restricted technologies she had access to. Though of course par the course she'd used her own psychic powers to rewrite portions of her DNA with regards to aging, extending her own lifespan.
A strong-willed woman like her had refused to bow down to a bunch of "hook-nosed, money-hungry, Christ-killing, penny-pinching bunch of inbred goat-fucking Zionists" as Alamgir was fond of quoting her. It didn't necessarily escape Ashima's notice that Alamgir Netanyahu, the Grand Master of the Mantle of Guardianship, was Jewish.
"I am who I am. Alamgir Netanyahu. You know of the three things that bind this world. The Power of Geass which you once had, the Code of Immortality which C.C. has but suppresses and the Mantle of Guardianship, granted in limited power at varying levels to those who would qualify for it. But above all that is the Throne of Engai- the power of En Sabah Nur. That is what I have. Of the four I stated, the most powerful is that of the Throne of Engai. We protect human society from self-destruction and observe the hidden aspects of history. And we act if we need to."
"And what gives you the right to do this? Your immortality? Your powers? Your knowledge?" Lelouch challenged. Alamgir replied levelly. "In this world, might makes right as you demonstrated so admirably several years ago. Half a decade if I remember. Demon Emperor of Britannia. A spectacular title if I do say so. And a spectacular demonstration. Of course, all you fought for, the peace you brought about through your deception has fallen apart after the actions of Tuathal. A rogue clone that De Dios made, or more accurately Amshel made."
"So doesn't the blame still come back to you for failing to deal with an ambitious underling, a Steward of the Mantle who has neutered the ability of your impotent Diamond Lotus to respond to a threat that's destroyed the lives of millions? A Steward who somehow came into possession of an artefact that killed the first En Sabah Nur?"
Alamgir opened his mouth to reply before Aziz made a subtle cutting motion. Lelouch and Alamgir turned their attention to him, wary of the literal wildcard before them. The one who'd known of Amshel's involvement yet remained silent on the matter. To be "neutral". Not that they knew of course.
But within Aziz cursed himself. He'd never expected this. So much blood. So much pain. A single miscalculation, a single misstep on his part had cost the lives of millions the world over. With Amshel he'd observed restraint. The time for restraint was past. They'd even managed to get rid of Miguel, killing an immortal Master of the Mantle with a combination of thermite-based incendiary bullets, mutagenic acid and dust charged with negative psi energy. All was not going to plan.
"The blame goes to no one. All Stewards of the Mantle go through a stage of ambition, of seeking a greater power so as to shape the world as they see fit. Ben went through it didn't he Alamgir?"
Alamgir sniffed. His brother had attempted to usurp him at one point. However after spending a year within the Pyramid of Giza with nothing to do but think and hang around with preserved Pharoah's, tricked into entering by Aslan who'd been quite nonchalant about the entire thing, he'd come round.
"The point of the matter is that we have an adversary before us intent on uniting the Code, Geass and Mantle in their entirety and gaining the power that will come from that. The only person capable of counteracting that is well....the En Sabah Nur at full power. Though there's a good chance it could kill him. But the fact is that the power you've gained is disrupted after the death of the first and will take years, if not a full century to fully recover. Otherwise it wouldn't have been so difficult to deal with."
"Azaluhaiz. You. You're the only -"
"DO NOT CALL ME THAT NAME!" Aziz roared in a sudden outburst before rapidly regaining his composure. "Please don't call me that. I am not the entity you named nor am I of the same nature. That is a name with a legacy I do not wish to be associated with. As for who can do it- Altair or Ranvir his son and possibly Raven in her current form."
"It is a worthy legacy. It is a word that gives freedom, a name that speaks of honour, duty, cunning, virtue, sacrifice, evil...whatever have you, be it positive or negative as humans define it, it is something you can't leave behind" Alamgir spoke, aiming the words at Aziz.
"I can and I have. And we won't speak of this thing again" Aziz spoke softly next. He turned to Lelouch, his face questing for answers. In so many ways, this man was similar to what he'd once been. Noble. Proud. Aristocratic. But the burden of saviourdom would come to this one soon enough. Perhaps he'd found a worthy successor to become the Arbitrator after so long. The wildcard who would both be truly neutral and chaotically neutral, bringing chaos and anti-chaos to the world when it was needed.
"Yes my dear boy. All of us have secrets. For the sake of your own sanity I suggest avoiding looking too far into the matter of the Ulthaj. You'll find nothing in any archive of this world, bar in the archives of the Sahar Dynasty. And no, it's not something you can exploit with me. But why I called you here is something. You're a rare thing. Like the Jesus of Nazareth, the very same one I crucified so long ago in my life as Longinus of Rome, you are a maw in the face of time, a man whose resurrection from death shrouds you from the gross view of oracles. Congratulations Lelouch. You're going to be the messiah once more."
WWW
Tuathal shook his head. His new name meant 'Ruler of the People' in Celtic. A strong name that had been the second choice of his parents. He'd taken it for himself, to distinguish himself from the previous version of himself. A former life that he had no intention of repeating. But it had begun all over again. The decimation of Tokyo. The destruction of so many cities. The deaths of millions. It was beginning all over again.
It felt wrong. Every time he fell asleep, it seemed as if something had gone wrong somewhere. His motivation had always been to build a better world for Nunnally yet so many had paid in blood for it. Shirley Fenette. Euphemia li Britannia. Everything he'd done, everything he'd accomplished – all of it was to atone for the blood shed by him from the very beginning. All of it had begun with Clovis. All of it had ended with him.
Now his allies that stood beside him in his agenda wreaked their own havoc, his carefully constructed events evolving into a beast beyond his control. He'd done what he could, taking advantage of the chaos to end the greatest threat to his agenda in the form of Miguel. But even he regretted the loss of life. The wanton slaughter of innocents perpetrated by his allies was terrorism. Such an act undermined his claim for a better world, his desire for the Zero Requiem to return to its roots. He'd revealed the truth to all, of the secret deals that had been made, of the truth behind the lie of Zero. Yet for his doubt the mandate of his enemies was undermined. Once he was in control his erstwhile allies would be dealt with summarily.
Amshel entered as he continued to ruminate on his motivations. "Amshel?"
"Yes my lord Lelouch?" Amshel asked in that clipped manner of speech that was his trademark.
"We are evil men. We do evil acts. Don't you agree? And please, call me Tuathal. Lelouch is dead. I died the minute I became a monster like my father. All men become their father's at one point or another. Why do we do this? Tell me again."
Amshel paused. At times like this, when Tuathal was melancholic and filled with self-doubt, he had to subtly draw upon his psi powers as a Steward, weaving the subtle spell that compelled Tuathal to the deeds he did. But what worked far better in this case was using logic to throw the questions back at him. As long as he did not discover Amshel's own ambition or that of Hera, then all was well and good. They had power, but that power wasn't enough.
"Did you not say to me that what we do is necessary for the sake of the world? We do what we do because we believe in it. Do not be conquered by evil, but conquer evil with good. What we do is a lesser evil to liberate the world from the Diamond Lotus. I came to you because you are the only one capable of this, of destroying the Diamond Lotus and the Geass Directorate once and for all. What we do, when all is said and done, is like that of a goldsmith tempering their gold in flames. Humanity is that gold and it must be tempered just right, at just the right temperatures, for the impurity to be liberated from it."
"So we choose a lesser evil for the greater good rather than a greater evil for a lesser good? One for the other?" Tuathal asked. Amshel nodded. The psychic shroud that enveloped his higher introspective functioning was reinforced now. A lesser danger. Tuathal remained an instrument but a dangerous instrument nonetheless.
"Millions will die now so that hundreds of millions will live a free life later. This is for the greater good Tuathal. Surely you need no reminding of that? Isn't that what you died for? What your revelations to the world will accomplish? To let humans think for themselves and rely upon themselves once more rather than placing their collective destiny in the hands of their fellow man? I would rather that than the destiny of our race decided by those who conspire in the shadows."
"That....that is true. Thank you Amshel. Leave that package here. Now go."
As Tuathal ate the food, the subtle poison working its way through his body, another measure of control he was unaware about, the puppet on a string wielded by one stronger than him, he had only a single thought.
"Am I a good man who commits evil deeds or an evil man who commits evil for a greater good? Shirley....she was true to me. Like C.C.. Like Karen. Despite all the lies they always remained true. Shirley always told me how she felt spied upon. How...she felt enclosed. I do not remember why I live. A loyalist who revived me. A cause to which I hold no loyalty. So why do I fight?"
Tuathal was a puppet upon a string. It would be disastrous if he were ever to discover whoever it was that pulled the strings.
WWW
Navin hobbled up to the corpse beside Aaron, watching as Aaron smoothed the hair of his deceased father. First Lieutenant Aaron Kim, eldest son of the legendary Zaki 'Zack' Kim. His foster brother. His friend. Son of the many men who'd raised him.
"It was a quick death. An injury like that...." Navin said before falling silent. What could be said? Not 'sorry', for what good would apologising do? Here was a man who'd raised him. And here he lay dead. As was his wife and children, the siblings of Aaron, dead by the nerve gas attacks on the main compound in Johor. His entire family. Navin's family. His real family.
He winced slightly as he withdrew, leaving Aaron to his grief, his cracked ribs singing a song of agony that was dulled by the morphine. He limped along on his left, the scar tissue from the surgery fresh where they'd fused his torn anterior cruciate ligaments and achilles tendon together using flash-cloned cartilage. His left eye, the new flash-cloned biological one that had replaced his mangled cybernetic one, itched with unshed tears.
He heard a muffled sob and placed his hand on Aaron's shoulder, giving a slight squeeze before departing, leaving his friend to grieve in privacy, a son mourning his father. He halted at the door of the morgue, suddenly shivering violently. He leaned against the wall and began to breathe, focusing only on the exhalations. In. Out. The shivering subsided.
Navin was surprised. He felt....numb. Surreal. That was the word. Zaki Kim had been his foster father. Dead. Anwar Ramachandra, Hero of the Battle of Zamboanga. The elder brother who always raised him. Nearly dead. The men and women of the 1st Guards Ultras who'd collectively raised him since childhood. His family. Dead. So many of the people at Ashford. Dead.
"That is a natural outcome of this event. War is a human foible. Death is but a part of nature and should be accepted, if not celebrated. They are in a better place than here" the voice within said.
"Shut. Up." Navin whispered through clenched teeth. It subsided, whispering to him at the edge of his mind. Not since he was 16 had he heard it. Throughout the war years it had kept him sane, protecting him from the stress of combat as he threw himself into it again and again. The wish for carnage, for the berserker within to be unleashed tore at him. He'd let the other guide him, gaining him the appellation of the Demon Thunder. The single thing that had let him fight Luciano Bradley to a stalemate even at the cost of his entire squad as they'd died all around him.
"They are dead. Accept that. It is -"
"SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!" he screamed before slamming his head against the bulkhead. He felt slightly woozy as the blood dribbled down from the small gash in his forehead. He staggered down the corridor, leaning heavily against his walking stick. He'd shielded Suzaku and Tohdoh as best as he could in his Ganishka. The result of the entire Tokyo incident was second degree burns to his legs, a broken arm and a cracked ribcage.
The other spoke again. He tried to suppress it yet its voice came through, clear and lucid. The one who lived within him, who'd grown up within him. The Demon. And he was its vessel, the Thunder that resounded its presence.
"They are dead. There is nothing you can do to change that. You cannot change what is past. It was fated. Their karma. I am sorry for your loss. I feel it. I'm a part of you after all. And what you feel....it is okay Navin. They loved us. We loved them. Death ended their lives but not our relationship with those who are dead."
"Why? Why do you keep coming back? All I want is to live. All I want...." Navin said within his mind before sobbing. "I just want to be left alone. I just want..."
"Denial. Anger. Sorrow. Grief. Rage. Find her. Share your grief with her. Let her support you."
"No". Karen had her own worries, her own hurts. Thankfully Kotomi had survived, safe and sound in Hokkaido with her family. What he could do now was to see Anwar.
WWW
"Zack's dead isn't he? Same with my family?" the voice rasped from within the neutral buoyancy tank. Anwar floated in the saline solution, the damage to his body far too extensive for even medical science to treat. Navin sniffed the sterile air of the ICU, his hand tapping a staccato beat against the cool plastic of the tank.
Silence. Navin heard Anwar rasp through his throat as he made an attempt at strained laughter. Then he stopped in a fit of coughing before continuing.
"Karen Kozuki. Or Karen. She's a rare one. A spitfire. Bunga Mawar. The Rose Flower. She loves you Navin. Look after her. Make sweet love and have lots of babies yeah? Name one of them after me. Heh heh heh. Heh-" before he launched into a coughing fit. It subsided as he regained his focus. His voice was warm, a tinge of affection to it that only rarely was heard.
"Davian and Mehru are alive. My beautiful twins. They're in the custody of the Guards. You're their godfather. Look after them. My wife and our other children....they died at Narita. In the airport. Srirasmi is dead. Identify them...the bodies. Cremate them. Insurance forms in my quarters. My parents are dead. Most of our families back in Johor are. I....Navin...you were always my younger brother. Beyond blood. Look after yourself. I'm not going to make it. You know that. Insha'Allah. Even if I was Muslim and you Catholic...you were always my brother. Me. Zaki. Bruce. Tony. Rania. Alamgir. You were our son, our brother, our blood. You lived and brought us joy as you were. Just you. Yourself."
The barely recognisable frame closed its eyes, the other orb puckered shut as the ruined body floated in the tank. Navin stepped back, suddenly unable to tolerate it any longer. He had to get away. From everything. He withdrew, getting away from the room as fast as he could. He exited into the corridor of the medical wing of the Kurukshetra, looking left and right for the nearest washroom.
He saw one and raced toward it, a small one tucked away in an empty corner of the wing. He entered and locked the door behind him. Staring into the mirror, he splashed water on his face, his organic eye red and bloodshot. Finally, when he was sure he was alone, he began to cry.
A/N:(Non-Aligned Movement; all the countries not part of the Black Knights, EU or Britannia). Any questions as to where this is going? I'll answer them in the next chapter.
