"You know, I remember you mentioning a month before we started working again."

"Believe me, I'd have loved nothing more than to have you sitting around with nothing to do, as opposed to this… What do you even call this?" Lelouch gestured out from the balcony.

A statue of Charles zi Britannia lay toppled on its side in a busy central road. Splotches of red stained it's marble surface, emblazoned with a myriad of slogans. Police had surrounded the site, barely managing to keep the baying horde of paparazzi at bay and preserving crucial evidence in the process.

"Pro-democracy activism?"

"Tamaki, there hasn't been a democracy movement in Japan for over fifty years - not since the First Pacific War when it became one." Lelouch groaned.

"Oddly coincidental, that it would reappear now at all times." C.C's eyes narrowed. "Right as the situation stabilised following your takeover - and mere days after the delegation from Europia United landed on these shores. Sic semper tyrannis indeed."

"I've put the word where we can, but this came out of the blue, boss - I don't know how much help we'll be."

"Unsurprising." Nunnally shook her head. "It's unlikely anyone Japanese was involved - the hardliners have already been pruned. Far more likely to be European dissidents hiding in Tokyo - with a shared heritage, many can easily pass for Britannian, and surveillance is lax amongst the 'proper' population."

"I'd normally be glad to see Brit racism biting itself in the ass; but this is just stupid."

"Expect it to come up in the trade negotiations." Clovis huffed. "Nothing concrete of course; just oblique references to how advantageous a hasty deal would be to 'promoting stability', the more lopsided the better."

"It's started small - vandalism, leaflets and bombing unmanned landmarks - but that won't last." Lelouch concurred. "Not after talks begin in a week's time. This is just a taster - something to set the mood. Once the delegations meet, expect fireworks if we don't simply bend over and accept all their terms as written."

"Cornelia and I are on the case." Clovis grumbled. "But damn if I'd hoped this kind of nonsense would stop with the SAZ. Shows how much I know…"

"I can't believe that after everything that's happened these past few months, I still somehow end up spending my days in a classroom."

"Surely it's not that bad?"

"Honestly?" Suzaku shook his head as he skimmed a particularly dense passage on Lèse-majesté. "I think I preferred the Britannian Foreign Legion."

"Be glad you're getting the condensed version then - no hundred page manuals on dining etiquette." Euphemia tactfully pretended not to see Suzaku shiver. "Nunnally named you the Knight of Zero - in Britannia's hierarchical society, such titles have real meaning, even if there weren't formal responsibilities attached. You'll be expected to represent her at official functions - as a bodyguard if nothing else, and that requires some understanding of how the nobility thinks and acts. How else are you to recognise when a threat might emerge?"

"I know that." Suzaku rubbed his eyes. "It's not too bad, really - the behaviour isn't so different from the Japanese Diet. It's just that when I was told I'd be having lessons on being a knight, I was expecting something a bit more combat-oriented."

"Those lessons would have only been a disappointment, I'm afraid." Cornelia laughed as she entered the room. "Theory only goes so far in war. We have many instructors on call in Tokyo, but none of them would be able to offer you much - not to a natural ace, and particularly given that they themselves lack a frame of reference for piloting a seventh generation frame. My advice? Find someone who can hold their own against you and spar until you drop."

"The only option for that are the simulators." Suzaku pointed out. "Nothing sixth-generation or below can really challenge the Lancelot, and I can't exactly spar against the Guren - Rakshata would murder us both."

"What about the Siegfried?" Euphemia offered. "Nunnally's been getting restless - it'd be good to give her something to do besides overhead patrols of Tokyo."

"The Lancelot can't fly."

"Right." Euphemia winced. "I can see how that might be unfair. Still, it's pretty incredible isn't it? Only seventeen and one of the best knightmare pilots in the world."

"Many of the best pilots of today are young by military standards. In many ways, that youth is a benefit." Cornelia noted. "It means they entered the forces at a time when knightmare tactics were already mature - with a good framework for instruction and lacking any bad habits from an older, outdated model of war. Make no mistake - many old hands applied from the armored corps applied to pilot knightmares when the Glasgow was first deployed; few made the cut, too used to the rigidities of tank warfare."

"Speaking of Nunnally." Euphemia - seeing that the lesson had gone well and truly off track - closed The Erskine May with a weighty thump. "Haven't you got any stories about her from the Kururugi shrine? She always changes the subject whenever I ask."

"As her knight, I'm afraid I can't disclose anything that might embarrass my liege."

"A fast learner." Cornelia's lip twitched. "But you're amongst family here. Teasing siblings is a tradition that predates even the Holy Britannian Empire."

"I'll take your word for it." Suzaku agreed, having no siblings to speak of. "But I genuinely can't tell - Nunnally promised that if I ever let anything slip from those days, she would recommend me to the Knights of the Round."

"Isn't that a good thing?" Euphemia blinked. "I know knights who would sell their firstborn for that honour."

"Many would." Suzaku agreed wryly. "But I really, really don't want to be appointed the Knight of Eleven."

"That can't be right." Charles pinched his nose. "There has to be more to it - once again, are you sure you never met anyone with a Code?"

"I did not make a contract with any individual." Shin reaffirmed. "Nor did I know of the existence of Code, immortality or contracts of such nature before today."

"He did just kill his father." Marianne hedged. "Perhaps the emotional shock stemming from that act triggered his latent potential, and invoked a response in C's world?"

"I wish." Charles scoffed. "Imagine if mere patricide could awaken a Geass - Britannia would have enough wielders to fill a division."

"Then I have no idea. Our understanding remains so limited - a glowing yellow skull that spontaneously grants Geass isn't even in the top five oddest things we've encountered over the years."

"Well, there is one person we could ask who dedicated his life to studying precisely that." Charles suggested.

"Oh, don't bother." Marianne huffed. "That psychopathic man-child will be sulking over his death for years. Besides, Shin's description gives every indication of a natural phenomenon distinct from Code - what are the odds that he actually knows anything useful about it?"

"Finally caught you!" Toto whooped with joy, nearing slamming her head against the cockpit.

The Third squirmed fiercely, but her Gloucester's grip was iron-clad, even as Toto emerged from it's back.

"Q(_$!U0*%!%!+_£O^+_£!"

Twisting around, a head sprouted from the wormlike mass - a translucent yellow skull attempting to work it's way free, teeth gnashing all the while.

"My, you're an ugly one." Toto laughed, as her Geass began to take effect - The Third's struggles gradually tapering away as she systematically erased it's memories. "Sleep now, sleep forever. We don't need your mind - only your body."

Thankfully, this does not have Lord V.V. 's immunity, for all that it's made from his cells.

"Coming on real thirsty there, Toto. Could you sound any more like a predator?"

"Clara!"

Many who entered the world of intelligence and espionage did so expecting a life of high-octane action, seduction, globetrotting and glory. It was a rosy image cultivated by mass media for an audience hungry for escape from mundane drudgery - and helpfully propagated by recruiters to pad their quotas.

In reality though? It feels a lot like being a bartender.

Indeed, reality was often cruel and disappointing - far from the quasi-military role that so often filled the big screen, intelligence was fundamentally the pursuit of information. No amount of paid agents could effectively police an entire population - Area Security, like all agencies before it, relied almost exclusively on civilian tip-offs. That meant being personable - someone who could connect with individuals from a variety of social and economic backgrounds. It meant fading into the background; being the harmless fly on the wall with whom others felt comfortable sharing their woes. Alcohol helped too.

Oh wait, I am a bartender.

Then there was the sifting; dredging through a deluge of inane, pointless chatter for the few precious nuggets of actionable intelligence and feeding that on to those who could make use of it. Most nights were a bust, most leads unravelled into dead ends, but occasionally something would pop up that made it all worthwhile…

"They're bad news, man. I never should've signed up to this nonsense - but they promised the good stuff, you know? Hard to get hold of since the crackdowns started - just a bit of harmless fun, you know? I never wanted to go this far - now they have photos, they'll tell the world if I don't help. What would my dad say? No, I know, he'd disinherit me for sure!"

"Now, aren't you overreacting?" Rivalz comforted the distraught boy whilst refilling his glass. "Everyone goes through a bit of teenage rebellion - your father probably did the same when he was younger, I'm sure he'll understand."

"No, you don't understand." The boy sighed, draining his glass in a single gulp - before slumping back into the luxurious couch of the private room. "Teenage rebellion is dyeing my hair red, or changing my last name to Spacer after the divorce. This, though? This is a crime, and he'll throw me under the bus to save House Spencer - his honour demands it."

"That does sound bad." Rivalz winced. "But aren't you boarding here? You're at Ashford five days a week - how much trouble could you possibly have gotten into on the weekends that you can't just pay off the police?"

"The police are easy." Alan Spacer shuddered. "But this is borderline treason - even if we're not the ones going round throwing bombs, just promoting democracy is a serious offence under martial law. If Area Security gets involved, heads will roll. Damn Frenchies - never should've listened to them - nothing but trouble..."

Having heard enough, Rivalz refilled his glass yet again; this time with a hefty added dose of Rohypnol. Sure enough, one chug later and Alan was out like a light, even before Rivalz had finished messaging the Royal Guard.

Still, that's the third one this week - I knew Ashford Academy was a hub for conspiracy, but this is getting ridiculous.

"Go away." General Cao groaned, crumpling the note in his fist. "I want nothing to do with these conspiracies, can't you leave a man to die in peace?"

"I was expecting you to be more enthusiastic. Your life, liberty, and even your position restored - surely you haven't received a better offer?"

"Admittedly not." Cao scoffed. "But I have received over a dozen variations of the same. Nobody ever leaves a name, of course, but if I were to draw up a list of the factions that haven't tried to buy me, it would be shorter than the list that has."

"You can hardly blame them for that. The Federation's best general - imprisoned yet alive with three decades of insider knowledge at the top of the food chain. Whoever gets you on side is that much closer to crowning themselves Emperor."

"I might have gotten involved, had I found a candidate worth supporting. Truly, it is a sad indictment of our Federation that the High Eunuchs remain the best amongst a reprehensible gallery of scum and villainy."

"I see. In that case, I shall leave you to your meal - my apologies for the disturbance, General."

Makeup, a wig, and some confidence. For all the vaunted advancements of surveillance technology, the classics remain as potent as they were in the days of Himiko.

Two guards slouched at the front door, cursing their luck at drawing the night shift for the rota. One glanced listlessly her way, eyes focusing on mop and bucket.

"Keys in the right cupboard." He yawned, waving her through.

Nodding her thanks, Sayoko cut a brisk path to the master bedroom, alone the entire way but for the occasional maid dusting the bronze busts in the antechamber. This early on a weekend, the residents would still be in Tokyo, sleeping off their exertions in seedy casino halls and gentleman's clubs.

Third drawer on the left bedside table. Under the false bottom.

Pulling a latch disguised as a button, she withdrew a thin sheaf of paper - a million pounds worth of promissory notes issued by the European Central Bank. Even as she tucked the note away and reset the false bottom, Sayoko's eyes narrowed in thought.

He was right.

It had been a lead as profitable as it had been unexpected - a bouquet of flowers and a box of chocolate delivered to her door.

'My sincerest apologies for detaining you in Luoyang.'

A quick examination had found the message in the wrapping - ciphers and contact details taking the place of nutritional and regulatory information. That had been the first contact - first of a series of tips that had universally borne fruit, always to the detriment of Europia United. So she continued to pursue the leads - for all that the source was transparently Chinese, critical negotiations were coming up and every advantage would count.

One thing still bothers me about all of this though. By all means, I spent two weeks in their company. So why is it that I can't remember any of their faces?

As she traversed the dim candlelit halls, Sayoko's eyes glowed blood red.

"They really don't know how to take a hint."

"Your parents again?"

"Third letter this week." Milly growled. "Invitations to salons, movie premieres and knightly tournaments. Anything to get me back to the mainland and under their thumb."

"I thought they had already been discouraged from attempting to foist a suitor on you."

"Oh, they're more subtle about it now." Milly agreed. "Their finances can't handle another fine for breaching letting regulations. If I were to attend one of their invitations, I doubt anything overt would happen - but there would be no shortage of unmarried young men present, ready to charm me into their family."

"I'd call them vultures, but at least those contribute to the ecosystem."

"Quite."

"...Want me to make a few calls?" Diethard offered, when no further response came - only the rhythmic shuffle of pen and paper. "There are bound to be more skeletons in their closet if one digs deep enough."

"Grandfather is already on it. With our recent upward trend, there's no shortage of calls from the mainland looking to curry favour. A few are even worth replying to - unconditional offers to help like this one."

"...The Knight of Two?"

"Hard to believe, isn't it? Last I saw her, she was a scared little girl hiding from the scary tutors behind Lady Marianne's dress." Milly smiled fondly. "Now she's one of the most powerful women in the Empire at age 14, and nominal department head of Homeland Security."

"She's also a Knight of the Round, loyal to the Emperor above all others. Even if we're nominally still aligned, nobody with a brain believes it - if word gets out that you're talking the tabloids will have a field day."

"There are no traceable communications." Milly reassured him. "We go through Jeremiah - he served as a palace guard in Aries Villa, and knows Anya well. She used to come for etiquette lessons every week, after all."

"Didn't Jeremiah's deputy transfer to Pendragon?" Diethard recalled with a knowing grin. "She seemed to be making a name for herself at the Royal Academy, before dropping off the grid entirely - less than a week after Lady Alstreim's tour of the facility."

"Alas, I couldn't possibly comment on speculation."

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"My answer hasn't changed the last five times you asked." Kallen snarked into her earpiece.

A shuddering groan announced their arrival - their stomachs lurched as the forklift took hold of their container and lifted them up.

"I know." Ohgi sighed. "Sorry. I'm just on edge - you remember what Zero said, right? Once the division becomes official, that's it. Sugiyama, Minami, Tamaki, Yoshida and Inoue are all staying here. We'll still be able to help out in Japan - but once the war heads abroad? You'll be on your own."

"With the best will in the world, none of them are aces." Kallen shook her head. "All the training in the world won't put them up to par against a Knight of the Round - won't let them pilot a seventh-generation frame. I'm one of the few we have - that's going to matter."

"As long as you're certain." Ohgi hesitated. "We'll take good care of your mom and the home front. Just promise you'll stay safe - I don't want to have to tell her she's lost another child."

"I know, Ohgi. Thanks."

Kallen took a deep breath as her surroundings shook once more. A crack of light appeared ahead, steadily widening as the container door opened.

"Huh."

A man stood out front with a clipboard, squinting down; behind him, a motley crew was busy unloading a varied assortment of weaponry, fuel and ammunition.

"I know we asked for knightmares, but what the fuck are these things? What's wrong with a good old Sutherland?"

Counting down in tandem, Kallen and Ohgi keyed the ignition as one - and filled the warehouse with molten lead.

"My, someone is impatient. The formal welcome ball is in just a few days, you know. What would the media say if you were caught coming to my bedroom?"

"I told you this was a bad idea." Ryo snarked, though that didn't stop him from getting an eyeful.

"The receptionist said she'd announced our arrival." Leila bit her lip, aware of the heat rushing to her cheeks.

"She did - I simply don't care enough to dress up." C.C. stretched languidly, giving her visitors an eyeful.

Ryo wolf-whistled, and Yukiya smacked him.

"I've been working hard leading up to this point - it's nice to finally kick back and let others do the heavy lifting for a while. Now, what was it you wanted?"

Doing her best to ignore C.C's casual nudity, Leila stepped forward and bowed low.

"To thank you for saving my life. If there is anything within my power to grant, merely ask it of me and I - Leila Breisgau - shall do my utmost to deliver."

"Breisgau…" C.C. hummed, before her eyes widened a fraction. "Assembly Man! You're his daughter, then - the one I pulled out of a snowstorm. You've grown up."

"Meanwhile, you haven't changed a day." Leila shook her head. "I knew it was you the moment you came into view."

"Well, here I am." C.C. spread her arms. "Though I must admit my surprise - as a representative of Europia United, an oath to myself is a conflict of interest, to say the least."

"Even a month ago, I would have been skeptical of anything of the sort." Akito acknowledged, "But the return of Japan changes everything."

"Relations between the EU proper and the influx of refugees have always been strained - a matter of convenience more than desire." Leila explained, "But tensions have been mitigated until now by the recognition of its benefits - of having a large population pool willing to enlist, and to take risks that would be politically unacceptable where native European soldiers are concerned. But now? Japan stands again - and it's exiles want to go home."

"Japan was the single most densely populated nation to fall to Britannia - even if only a small minority escaped the invasion and occupation, that still makes a plurality of non-EU refugees in the ghettos - and by extension the foreign legion. There's serious talk of defection, desertion and even rebellion - that makes the EU nervous, possibly enough to crack down." Akito's eyes narrowed. "Simply put? Our interests have diverged, perhaps beyond reconciliation."

"I see." C.C. hummed. "You were sent here to represent a tangible link to Japan of old. But even if that's the case, you're only a small part of the overall delegation - here for sentimentality more than anything else. A wise choice, not to rely on the formal negotiations - as I can't imagine your interests rank highly where the Council is concerned. A personal debt, and a nation reforged. Very well, I can work with that."

Reaching into her bedside cabinet, C.C. tossed Leila a card.

"I have nothing for you at this stage; not off the top of my head. But if you have anything to offer - or if we have any suggestions - that number is your first port of call."

"Pizza Hut - twenty pounds off?" Yukiya raised an eyebrow.

"What? No, give that back! Wrong card…"

"You are not Wizard."

"Is that so? My knowledge, clothing and security codes beg to differ."

"Wizard is dead. Your hair is the wrong colour, your posture completely off, and your voice is clearly a woman's."

"Oiaguro Zevon is dead." A gloved finger wagged. "A regrettable loss - he was a gold mine of information and a valuable agent in his own right. But where the man falls, the identity endures. Britannia has crushed so many dreams, ruined so many lives that there will never be a shortage of those willing to don the mask."

"That's all well and good, but Oiaguro Zevon was a proven quantity - a seasoned fighter who struck many blows to Britannia from the shadows. You may claim his identity, but that alone does not give you the right to inherit his position."

"Of course not." Wizard nodded amiably. "But this does."

The mask fell, and Marrybell's left eye opened.

"That was surprisingly anti-climactic." Lelouch mused, flicking through the declaration in his hands.

"Nobody has jumped eight places in the line of succession since the Emblem of Blood - what more could you want?"

"Come on Clovis," Nunnally giggled. "There's no need to be jealous - you never even wanted to be third prince."

"Nunnally has a point, but at the same time it is unusual." Cornelia conceded. "You would expect such a seismic change in position to at least receive a public broadcast."

"Maybe Charles had a sore throat?" Kaguya offered, prompting a round of laughter.

"As a message to the masses, this kind of declaration is probably for the best." Diethard offered. "The reference to the line of succession normalises the action - a reminder of your ties to the Empire. Meanwhile, the bureaucratic nature of the announcement may be aimed at making this look administrative in nature - a reshuffle rather than a political realignment, for all that those in power know it to be the latter. Business as usual, in other words."

"Odysseus is irrelevant." Lelouch shrugged. "That really only leaves Schneizel in a superior position - which is likely intentional, a way to stop him from getting too comfortable as the heir presumptive."

"I hate to interrupt," Clovis shouted, doing exactly that. "But as far as motives go, you could just ask father yourself. He's calling on the direct line."

AN: Well, it's been a while, hasn't it? When I said that the next release would take slightly longer, this wasn't quite what I had in mind, but what can I say? We certainly live in interesting times, something readily apparent in the first months of 2020.

Now, the initial break was to take a bit of time plotting out the next arc, along with a few days off due to dental work. That all went fine, and I expected to have this 'prologue' chapter out within two weeks. But, well…

I work in a field that is indelibly international, and accordingly receives outsized influence from geopolitical events (perhaps appropriate to the Code Geass fandom, but I digress).

On March 31st, the United Kingdom left the European Union. That caused a sudden, temporary bump in my workload, enough to prevent any real writing for a week. Then, just as that was settling down, the Coronavirus decided to make an appearance - this again increased workload, amidst emergency response training and drills and took another week. Accordingly, by the time I'd actually prepared this chapter, a month had gone by.

Now, things are settling down, and that should be the end of major disruption. The workload increase is fairly permanent though, and accordingly, I will be shifting the release schedule to target one chapter every two weeks. This won't necessarily be spread evenly every 14 days, but will come out when possible amidst a fluctuating workload that makes consistent weekly releases impossible.#

With all that said, on with the story!