Recap: Lelouch, General Smilas, and Schneizel are all scheming in Australia. Frederick is meanwhile having a family reunion with the daughter of a traitor. In Japan, Naoto has turned to terrorism, so he can help Kallen.
Chapter 7: We Need to Talk About His Highness
Because the reordering of a city for a political way of life presupposes a good man, and becoming prince of a republic by violence presupposes a bad man, one will find that it very rarely happens that someone good wishes to become prince by bad ways, even though his end be good, and that someone wicked, having become prince, wishes to work well, and that it will ever occur to his mind to use well the authority that he has acquired badly.
—Discourses on Livy, I 18, by Niccolo Machiavelli, translated by Harvey C. Mansfield and Nathan Tarcov
Neutral District, Australia
On top of the counter, Lelouch's phone buzzed as he finished straining the pasta. The sauce sizzled on the stove, filling the room with an enticing aroma. Finally, he had some sweet respite from his siblings.
Guinevere was busy arguing over the color of the draperies with Clovis as she made the final preparations for the banquet. Schneizel had begun the monthly security check which would keep him out of Lelouch's hair and unable to offload the next report on salmon farming and sea lice on him.
After the banquet, Lelouch could finally escape from his family's tender clutches for a week. Roy's wedding would be a welcome reprieve from the endless scheming and barbs hidden by rosy words. While the embassy was undoubtedly safer, he felt more secure surrounded by his men. If he was lucky, he wouldn't be returning here.
Scowling, Henry accepted the plate. "Frederick says he is held up."
And the E.U. was so graciously nibbling on the bait. Unfortunately...
"He's running around with some girl from the French embassy. She's using him to get to you," Henry argued.
Someone was liable to the spring the trap before the final pieces were in place.
"Do you truly think Frederick would betray me?" Lelouch asked, genuinely curious. Edgar had died for him, and Frederick was determined to never let that sacrifice be in vain.
Honestly, both of his guards hovered too much, despite having very different ideas on how to keep him safe.
"Not on purpose," Henry said, avoiding eye contact. "But people make foolish mistakes in the name of love. It'd be better to keep Frederick at your side to prevent... conflicted feelings."
"If I send you to do the groceries, you'll get into a fist fight when someone inevitably insults the Emperor. That reflects badly on me." Lelouch finished cleaning the kitchen and picked up his own plate. "I'm not going to punish Frederick based on some meager hunch."
"You've investigated countless nobles and deliberately set traps for them based on a mere hunch."
"The difference being that I trust Frederick." Taking a bite of his pasta, he walked out the door. "Please stop harassing him. He's allowed a life outside of being my guard."
Henry grumbled incoherently, his footsteps ringing behind him. He would wait for now. Probably try to gather evidence to prove Frederick's wrong doing.
Another pair of footsteps brought them to a halt. Henry set his plate on the floor and walked in front of him, hand drifting to his gun. Lelouch once again keenly felt the absence of his own. A hidden knife was more appropriate for a prince, not a visible weapon suggesting he didn't trust his own security.
These were Lelouch's private suites; no one should be intruding.
Schneizel rounded the corner. Wishing the nosy bastard to be busy for one day was apparently too much to ask.
"I thought you were examining the security." Lelouch strode past him, continuing to his office. "Had you informed me of your intentions, I could have greeted you properly."
"This is part of my duties." Schneizel flashed a key card, yellow unlike the standard white. "You have been avoiding me."
"Henry, remind me to add an additional lock on the door," Lelouch ordered. He pushed his way into his office and grimaced at the overflowing desk.
"I was hoping to talk to you," Schneizel said. Ignoring propriety, he began rifling through the various items. He picked up a field journal and flipped through the pages. "What is this? It's filled with gibberish."
"A dictionary," Lelouch snapped, snatching it out of his hands. Occasionally, the division would stumble across an isolated community that had avoided Britannia's relocation efforts. While they used a pidgin version of English, communicating in one of the local tongues helped ease tensions. Since his job was to root out terrorists, he was happy to leave them be and invite them to contribute to his intelligence network. They knew the land better than Lelouch ever would. Or at least that was the justification he gave his parents. More honestly, "It's a hobby."
Schneizel raised an eyebrow and picked up a thank you letter he'd received. "Russian? Why do you even know Russian?"
"How else am I supposed to read Tolstoy?" Lelouch gestured to the bookshelf and the copy of War and Peace his mother gifted him for his birthday. Despite their numerous disagreements, she did understand his reading preferences and even encouraged them at times.
"You could read a proper book in English," Schneizel said, wandering to the bookshelf. "The Count of Monte Cristo? Critique of Pure Reason? Discourses on Livy?" He pulled out the latter contemplatively. "This was banned under the Defense of the Realm Act of 1914. It's rather incendiary."
Which was terribly ironic, considering Machiavelli also wrote The Prince—a cliché coming of age gift among the nobility.
"Fortunately, the law doesn't apply to us," Lelouch said. "I see no reason to limit my knowledge, when our enemies labor under no such restrictions."
Schneizel shook his head, sliding the book back in place. "No wonder you and Nunnally have such quaint ideas. Reality is not the idyllic paradise presented in books. There are only leaders, who accumulate power, and followers, forever destined to a life of servitude. Men cling to these promises and fables because they are ashamed of their nature. The ideas are merely a painful, insidious fiction, which they futilely try to attain. We can avoid much strife by preventing such dangerous thoughts from taking root in their minds."
"If Britannia succumbs to mere ideas, she is weak," Lelouch countered, anxiously tracking Schneizel browsing the bookcase. "When people struggle, they become greater for it."
"You overestimate mankind, dear brother. Only great men, who were already so, survive the challenges. A classic example of survivorship bias." Schneizel's finger paused on a skinny copy of Common Sense. "Really, Lelouch?"
"Legally acquired," Lelouch assured, wincing at the memory.
"Right," Schneizel said, long and drawn out. "Not acquired on your regular outings into Sydney? Is displaying this prominently some childish rebellion of yours? I hadn't thought you to be so foolish."
Once again, Lelouch was failing in his sibling's eyes. The lack of respect didn't bother him personally. He had cultivated his image of being nobody of note for years, but his father was pushing him further into the spotlight. Having his siblings perpetuate rumors of incompetence would lend them an air of credibility that would be hard to shake off. Worst case, his own achievements would be constantly doubted. Until he had found the appropriate mask, he needed to be unpredictable.
Unfortunately, that meant telling a rather embarrassing truth. Otherwise, Schenizel would see him as some radical—which Lelouch was—and be hesitant to work with him in the future.
"It would be disrespectful to discard the Emperor's gift," Lelouch said. At Schneizel's look of incomprehension, he elaborated, "I'm eighty percent sure, it was Father's idea of a joke. Or an elaborate ploy of reverse psychology that I have yet to unravel."
"Lelouch..." Schneizel rubbed his forehead. "Must you always tell such outrageous lies?"
Crossing his arms, Lelouch glared. "Father caught me trying to climb down the balcony. Two days afterwards, during Mother's annual attempt to celebrate Christmas, he handed it to me and said, I clearly need it." Lelouch had never felt more awkward holding the wrapped book in his hands. "I'm inclined to think those events are related for the sake of my sanity."
Schneizel's mouth parted, a meager gap betraying his shock. Slowly, he withdrew his hand from the bookcase. "Father gave you a gift?"
"He hasn't asked of me anything in exchange, so yes?"
"And you tried to climb out the balc—" Schneizel shook his head. "Of course, you did. You staged an accident in an attempt to escape once. Not to mention your little incident with Miss Sumeragi. Your actions are quite foolhardy."
"I dislike parties," Lelouch said, disliking how petulant his words sounded. Before Schneizel, he felt like he was nine again and once again losing a chess game. Straightening, he gestured at the door. "Would you like to conclude your security check now? I do have work to do."
Schneizel scoffed. "I, for one, haven't assigned you any, and Guinevere banned you from assisting after the fifth time you accidentally helped the servants. You have ample free time."
Actually, Lelouch was in fact, quite busy for once. He had revisions of the contract to go over, having confirmed a positive genetic test. The treaty also had a few extra stipulations his father wished to add. And he had numerous OSI files on the visiting foreign ambassadors to study. Fortunately, he had the foresight to hide them along with his letters to his friends. Schneizel's snooping would not have uncovered them.
"What do you want?" Lelouch growled, ending their charade.
Schneizel sank into the chair, and leaned forward, folding his hands together. His face relaxed, a polite smile tugging on the corner of his lips. "Would you care to enlighten me why I am apparently engaged in an erotic relationship with General Smilas?"
"You're not sleeping together?" Lelouch asked, widening his eyes in mock surprise. "But Guinev—"
"Oh, spare me. You and I both know she lacks the imagination for such an insidious rumor. I have been leaving you to your own devices while patching the gaps in your education. When Father inquired about your performance, I neglected to inform him of your little escapades into the city. What I fail to understand, Lelouch, is why you would spit on my generosity."
"If you're not sleeping with General Smilas, then why sneak into the embassy?" Lelouch retorted.
"How do you know that?" Schenizel asked, his face blanking.
Lelouch walked forward, stopping a hair short of his desk. He would not be intimidated within his own quarters. Schneizel should have denied the allegations, but he felt threatened which confirmed Lelouch's suspicions. His brother had been plotting with General Smilas. Probably, a treasonous plot.
"I did you a favor," Lelouch said. "When others discover your midnight visits, it will merely confirm the rumors. The reputation hit for consorting with a Frenchman is nothing compared to allegations of treason."
"Yet had you said nothing, no unwanted eyes would've been drawn to my outings."
Lelouch snorted. "Father's you mean? I'm sure he already knows." Especially because Henry had definitely tattled by now.
"If he had known, he would have censured me. Or did Father send you here to punish me?"
"You're doing that well enough without my help by dragging the negotiations out. The only reason Father stated for my presence here is that he wishes for you and Guinevere to cease stalling. And of course, Father has done nothing. He probably finds your scheming amusing."
Schneizel leaned back, tapping his finger on the arm rest and looking at him contemplatively. "So you informed Father?"
"No," Lelouch said, shrugging. "If he asks, I will be honest of course. But I have found the best policy is to assume he knows everything and plan accordingly." And it limited the amount of conversations between him and his father. "If he catches me in a falsehood, the punishment would be worse."
"So you always tell the truth, even if it will earn his displeasure?" Schneizel asked, brow furrowed.
"Last year, he asked me to investigate the possibility of a spy because the Kyoto House always seemed aware of any new regulations before they passed. I admitted to keeping Kaguya informed. He ordered me to attend most of the festivities of the season and assigned an additional guard to prevent any creative escape attempts." And called Henry in for a private audience, resulting in him being unusually cold and clinging to his side like an unwanted burr for months. Normally, he understood Lelouch's need for space or some privacy.
"Yet, had you said nothing, you could have escaped any consequences."
"But if he already knew, then the punishment would've been worse."
Schneizel stared at him, judgingly. Finally, he said, as if speaking to a particularly dimwitted child, "Father is not omniscient."
"He's the Emperor with an army of spies and assassins. There is no way to determine what he does not know."
He titled his head back, observing the ceiling, and muttered, "If this is what it feels like, I owe Odysseus an overdue apology." Shaking his head, Schneizel leaned forward, exasperation replaced by cool calculation. "You are not a follower as much as you play the part. We are too similar. So tell me, what do you desire?"
"To live my life in peace," Lelouch said.
"I find that difficult to believe." Schneizel stood and walked around the desk, settling a hand on his shoulder. "You need only to ask, and I shall provide."
Lelouch jerked away from the gentle touch, his eyes reflexively darting to Henry standing uneasily in the corner. "I can give you my shopping list if you wish. Unless this isn't a gesture of goodwill from you, in which case, simply tell me what you want from me."
The hand settled on his shoulder again, this time gripping it tightly. "You should learn the moves to this dance, dear brother." Schneizel's smile didn't reach his eyes, which relentlessly bore into him. "You're right about being too young to realistically make a bid for the throne. But you are a leader, and there is room at my table. You may be young, but the future beckons."
Lelouch swallowed, the hand pinning him in place. He could step back, rip himself free from the domineering grip. Schneizel certainly didn't have the strength to stop him, but doing so would betray his unease. For a moment, he saw the Count standing before him, toying with a knife as she drew closer and smiling. Then, he had stood still to have a chance of survival. Now? He remained frozen, fighting against memories while trying to determine the cost of rejecting the offer.
First Guinevere, now Schneizel. Each trying to recruit him, not knowing he had already chosen to support Odysseus. His spoiled act was supposed to dissuade such thoughts, had for the last three years. But realizing the mask he so expertly crafted, his siblings now saw him as a potentially powerful piece. Exactly the kind of thoughts he wanted to dissuade. Those brimming with potential, but lacking power, died young.
He needed a new mask. And with horrifying clarity, he realized the one in reach. The idea sickened him, but technically it was a part he already played. He just needed to lean into it further. Pretend that the mere thought didn't make his stomach churn. It was necessary to buy him time, until he had the power needed to defend himself against his siblings' onslaught.
His hand trembled and he clenched it tightly before slowly relaxing and uncurling his fingers. Merely another mask. It didn't mean anything.
Chuckling, he tilted his head. "What is the rush, Schneizel? Father still has many years left. I can allow myself to enjoy the moment." He took a step forward, pushing down the urge to reaffirm his personal space. Closeness implied trust. "Besides, Father has chosen his heir. Until he decides otherwise, I will follow his lead."
"Everyone knows Odysseues will abdicate," Schneizel said, taking a step back.
"Then he'll be the Emperor, and I will follow whoever he decides." Lelouch frowned, looking to the side. "Mother talks often of the Emblem of Blood. Such bloody turmoil arises when we ignore the proper order of things. It's not my assistance you should be seeking but Father's. He likes people who prove their worth and rewards them accordingly. I trust his judgement."
"You don't even like him," Schneizel accused.
"But my purpose is to serve the Emperor and carry out his wishes. My personal feelings are immaterial." That was what Zero was: an agent of the Emperor. Lelouch already wore this mask, all he had to do was embrace it. He wasn't an active player in this game, because his father held his loyalty too securely. To sell the lie, he would need to hint at a reason. "I know quite well what happens to those who dare to think to move against Father. If your scheming crosses from amusing to annoying, Father will annihilate you."
"The paltry nobility and commoners must play to different rules, but I am his son and the Prime Minister. Father cannot afford to move against me." Schneizel paused, his eyes narrowing. "You truly cannot believe he would eliminate you should you displease him? He is still enamored with your mother."
Lelouch snorted. "Why people think that sentiment would extend to myself is beyond me. He probably won't kill me. It would upset my mother. But marry Nunnally off for political gain? Or myself? Or execute anyone I dare to associate with? We call him Father, yet he is first the Emperor. Then perhaps a husband. He favors my mother but sends her on missions she does not agree with despite her loud complaining. To expect sentiment to sway him from actions in service of the Empire is foolhardy."
"Lelouch..." Schneizel shook his head. "If you come to your senses, know that I will shield those pledged to my cause." Reaching out, he clasped his shoulder again, hard enough to bruise. "Time you have, but wait too long and I'll have to consider you my enemy. Oh, and the unsavory business with the embassy? You will keep your silence..." He smiled. "Unless, of course, Father asks you directly."
"Of course."
"And about the ball, I took the liberty of acquiring you appropriate attire. Black, of course, like everything else in your lackluster wardrobe. The tailor will arrive tomorrow to finish the adjustments. Kanon assures me they will be quick."
The threat was clear. His quarters weren't secure, and if Schneizel could acquire his measurements, he could just as easily assassinate him should Lelouch make a move against him.
Someone cleared their throat in the doorway. Lelouch and Schneizel froze, heads slowly turning to gaze at the uninvited intruder. In the doorway, an unspeakable stood, wearing the typical heavy cloaks. She scanned the room with deliberate slowness and stepped inside. Why was she interfering? The unspeakables were always passive unless an emergency arose. At times, they resembled more empty shells than actual humans.
Yet, she stood there, looking at them. Then, breaking their general vow of absolute silence, she said, "Prince Schneizel. Prince Lelouch. This meeting wasn't scheduled."
Schneizel's grip briefly tightened, then he mechanically released his shoulder. Chuckling, he took a step back and ran his hand through Lelouch's hair. "You've grown, brother. It feels like just yesterday you were challenging me to chess matches in a desperate attempt to win. If you ever need me, I'm here."
With those parting words, he slipped past the unspeakable and finally left. The unspeakable nodded at him and withdrew, finally allowing Lelouch to relax.
"Your habit of sleeping on the floor and rotating rooms no longer seems so outrageous," Henry commented, stepping closer.
"Locks," Lelouch mumbled. He needed additional locks. And to sweep the entire suite for any other surprise gifts from his brother. Slowly, he turned to Henry, tearing his eyes from where the unspeakable had stood. "Why did she interfere?"
Henry shrugged. "Hell if I know."
They were so different. She, a walking corpse. Henry, brimming with restless energy. The stark contrast suddenly drove home how strange Henry was in comparison to every other unspeakable he had encountered. They were reactionary creatures, merely following orders to the letter. It had always made them easy to fool as a child. Henry was different, yet when he returned from those private meetings with his father, he too was empty.
"What does it mean? Being an unspeakable?" Lelouch asked. He had never broached the subject before, unwilling to upset the delicate balance between Henry and Frederick. If Frederick knew the truth, he would never forgive Henry for becoming their friend to satisfy orders.
Henry turned away. "Loyalty. My traitorous family had none. They sold me off to save their own skin and can rot in hell for all I care... Except my younger sister. She never did anything. The Emperor gave me a place to belong, and my service means Izzy got to study archeology."
Had his family truly abandoned him, or had the Emperor simply forced them too? Manipulating a young child would've been easy.
"And the others?"
"Most of the older generation is different. Many were traitors and lost their tongue." Henry sneered. "They deserved it. The rest of us are family. We're lucky," he finished without a hint of sarcasm. He truly believed they were blessed to be bound in eternal servitude.
"But you never did anything," Lelouch whispered. Henry, nor the others.
"Our families betrayed the Emperor," Henry said coldly. "His Majesty protects us, and they spat on his generosity. We were gifted the opportunity to express our gratitude. It's an honor. Only scum would speak ill of him."
Lelouch coughed awkwardly.
Glancing at him, Henry shook his head. "You're family. That's different."
It really wasn't. Lelouch was simply allowed more leeway with his words than the average citizen.
"You don't seem like the others."
Henry frowned. "I didn't finish training, but I can do my job."
"No..." Lelouch sighed. "The others feel more withdrawn. Or is that merely an act?"
"I'm too emotional," Henry grumbled, completely missing the point. "But the Emperor needed someone young, and I was the best at blending in with the commoners, so I was chosen."
To watch over Lelouch and report on him. To integrate himself in a group of young innocent teens. To do whatever was necessary to complete his mission.
Were they even friends?
"Is that what happens when you report to the Emperor? Training?" Lelouch guessed.
"No. He simply asks a few questions."
"My father hurts you," Lelouch hissed. The evidence was clear. Nothing normal would cause such a drastic personality change. "Yet you sing nothing but his praise."
Henry scowled. "He doesn't; he saved me. I know your relationship with him is strained, but don't drag me into it. I'm fine."
But he wasn't. Unfortunately, Lelouch lacked the power to help him.
Outer Concessions, Tokyo, Area Eleven
Red hair hidden under a cap, Naoto leaned against the wall and waited. Work at the hospital continued to climb as the Purists became bolder and deliberately antagonized the locals. According to Lord Ashford, they were trying to incite retaliation. Apparently, the Sixes were up in arms, and if the Japanese were to show similar uncontrollable behavior, the Purists would finally be able to argue for the abolishment of the Honorary Britannian system.
Wise, the JLF urged the local cells to keep their heads down and minimize casualties. Accompanied by that statement was a promise that they would finally take action by the end of the year.
Japan was finally fighting back. It was unbelievable.
Despite everything, he wanted to tell Kallen. Maybe this way, they could finally reconcile without Britannia's specter hanging over them and promising doom if they ever forgot their place. If she said no and, instead of joining him, clung to her Britannian roots, he would help ensure that she was safe in another Area long before the turmoil could commence.
As a doctor, he mourned the upcoming loss of life.
Fortunately for Japan and Naoto's vows of secrecy, Kallen had joined their father on a business trip to New York; he couldn't tell her a thing.
While Ohgi's group was independent, they heavily relied on the JLF's goodwill and supplies, forcing them to lie low and making their investigation contentious. Cells who disobeyed were cut off. The mystery of the medical supplies remained unsolved. If it hadn't been for Naoto noting that the amount of liquid nitrogen was enough to supply an entire hospital, they would have let it be.
It was suspicious, but Britannia often busied itself with strange projects. Prince Clovis's latest pursuit for the blackest black paint being one of many examples. Naoto had jokingly suggested that Clovis was experimenting with cryogenic sleep. Ohgi hadn't been amused.
In the dark shadows, he finally spotted two familiar forms and jogged over to them. Yoshida, the leader of their neighboring cell, scowled upon seeing him. "I'd feel better without the Brit, Ohgi. Can't be sure where his loyalties lie."
Flashing Naoto an apologetic smile, Ohgi said, "Trust me. Where we are going, we'll need all the help we can get. A Britannian might even put them at ease."
"Nothing happened at the safehouse, did it?" Naoto asked, wondering at the cause for the clandestine meeting.
Ohgi's eyes darted back and forth, before he patted his jacket. "Yoshida found something more sensitive and Tamaki..."
"Ah," Naoto said. Expecting Tamaki to keep his mouth shut was an exercise in futility. Had been since they were children and only gotten worse since.
"It's of interest to some local groups, but it's going to have to be a collaboration. We can't afford to make any enemies here, so keep your head down. They have some morals but don't care much for outsiders."
Naoto wasn't sure what he expected. Definitely not a karaoke bar. Inside, music blared as people, visibly armed, conversed around tables, their eyes watching them warily. The bartender swung between pouring drinks and handing out sheets of paper as cash exchanged their hands. Old arcade machines sat in the corner, and a group of children played familiar console games.
The scent of sake permeated the air, finishing the nostalgic picture and casting Naoto into the past. Japan's heart thrummed in this room.
Sighing, Ohgi fished out his wallet and carefully counted the bills as the bouncer scowled fiercely.
Mingled among the Japanese was a surprising number of Britannians laughing boisterously or hunched over the corner tables. A blond one departed from a table, and as he passed the group of children, tossed a few coins their way. The eager rascals descended, and Naoto swore he saw the man smile, before he hefted his briefcase onto the bar counter.
"This place is strictly neutral," Ohgi whispered. "Used to teach here in the daylight... But when they found out about our mutual hobby, I had to leave. The owner,"—he nodded at the bartender who had pulled out a thick book and was pouring over it with a pencil as the Britannian man watched—"had to have worked for some major corporation before the invasion. Way too familiar with Britannian practices, but he's an invaluable resource and incredibly invested in helping the local community. He helps the local gangs run as a legitimate business and, in return, they follow his handful of rules."
"Who you here for?" the bouncer asked, flipping through the generous wad of cash.
"Who's in charge of the docks?" Ohgi asked.
The bouncer gestured to an empty table in the corner. After a polite bow to express their thanks, the bouncer finally let them proceed. Naoto shivered at the eyes boring into his back as they waded through the sea of laughing children, boisterous teenagers, and armed men. A few uniformed men, clearly guards, hung around the room, ready to intervene.
It was a strange sight to behold. Natural enemies conversing like old friends. A little oasis of happiness where none dared to disturb the peace. Speculatively, Naoto observed the barman. He had none of the refined grace of the old Japanese families yet managed to build this sanctuary.
Recalling the steep entrance fee, Naoto asked, "How do people afford going here?"
"We're outsiders," Ohgi grumbled. "We don't pay any protection fees to the allied gangs, so we have to pay extra. As long as the kids behave, they are allowed in free of charge. The owner has a bit of a soft spot for them. The leftovers are handed out in the morning to the kids. A friend of his also helps the older ones find a job."
Japan was stronger than Naoto imagined. He hadn't heard of anything like this. His Britannian blood excluded him from these underground networks. At the hospital clinic, he had seen so many teenagers, lost and succumbing to addiction. They cycled through the door, and Naoto despaired as each one was released, unable to do anything more.
He didn't know what was worse. Seeing the same faces again and again, steadily getting worse. Or never again, wondering if they turned their life around or had died on the streets. After their meeting, Naoto should talk to the owner. Beg him for permission to recommend youths his way.
"Too smarmy with the Brits for my taste," Yoshida hissed. "Most of them are Honorary Britannians. Bunch of sellouts."
"You assholes again?" A lumbering man asked. The table shook as he sat down. "I'd thought you knew terrorists, sorry, resistance fighters, are not welcome here. I have half the mind to cut you both off. Save myself a massive headache."
Ohgi let out a long suffering sigh and pulled out an envelope. "Trust me, Brian. If I had a choice, I'd avoid your ugly mug like the plague. Unfortunately, we have this and you took charge of the docks."
Brian raised an eyebrow. "Important enough for you to drag Yoshida along." Naoto resisted the urge to squirm as the hard gaze swung his way. "I don't like doing business with strangers. Although I must say, you must truly be desperate if you're associating with Brits. The world might be ending."
Naoto inclined his head and extended his hand. "Naoto Kozuki. Or Nathan Walker among Britannians. I work at the Tokyo Memorial Hospital. Ohgi and I are old friends."
"And how many times do they accuse you of being a spy?"
"I also assist Lord Ashford at his behest. The concern is valid." Naoto shrugged to hide how uneasy those accusations made him. They would never fully trust him. He had resigned himself to it, but it still hurt. "If they're paranoia keeps them alive, I can't fault them for it."
Brightening, Brian leaned back and loudly declared, "Oh, you're Lelouch's doctor friend."
Heads swiveled their way and the background noise briefly quieted.
"Who?" Ohgi whispered.
"A soldier who volunteers at the hospital when he's visiting." Naoto stared at the man whose previous dour expression had evaporated. "How do you know him?"
"I owe him a favor," Brian said, grabbing the envelope. "Congratulations, Ohgi. You've earned yourself an audience."
Naoto frowned. "I'm doubtful Lelouch would consort with a criminal such as yourself. Despite picking fights with the Knight Police, he has sworn to uphold the law, and he's not one to forsake his oaths easily. If you think helping me will give you some leverage over him..."
"Paranoid, aren't you?" He snorted. "And I wouldn't expect his friend to be consorting with terrorists. Yet, here we are. Makes me mighty curious. He's not one to trust easily, so this,"—he waved the envelope—"has to be mighty important. It's not about a movie star, is it?"
Shoving aside his confusion, Naoto glared. "You still haven't explained how you know each other."
"Remember about a year and a half ago? Refrain was flooding the streets and causing all of us a big headache. Nasty stuff. Ban,"—he gestured at the bartender who was now taking a break, reading a newspaper, a few booths down—"has a few rules we follow in exchange for his help. Minor stuff really. No trafficking. No terrorism..." Brian glared pointedly. "And absolutely no Refrain."
Refrain...
Naoto swallowed, remembering the sudden tidal wave of cases that assaulted the hospital. The patients, simple husks of people, would come in complaining of crippling headaches, intermittent paralysis, or vision problems. At first, the patients had trickled in. Each treated independently. They noticed an uptick of heart attacks among the Japanese and low-income Britannians but thought nothing of it. Foolish in hindsight.
As the weeks progressed, the cases began to rise. Patients who were getting better would fall into unexpected comas. Others would stare into the abyss, their pupils dilated and tracking things only they could see. They would run crippling fevers that pointed to an infection, yet their white blood cell count was low. Delirious, some admitted to using Refrain. Most kept silent, well aware that if they admitted to using, they faced harsh fines and lengthy prison sentences. And their blood work was clean.
It couldn't be Refrain; they would have found it.
Of course, the Knight Police didn't care for their opinion. Some had admitted it. Their symptoms matched. Instead of receiving care, they were arrested.
Naoto had been working the clinic and distracting himself from the depressing madness upstairs, when Lelouch stormed in, took one look at the young girl, and pulled up her sleeve to reveal a red injection site. She pulled away frantically, cradling her arm, and cowered in the corner, wobbling unsteadily.
"There's an investigator in the lobby. Give her a mild tranquilizer. It will suppress her symptoms, and you can write the rest off as a bad cold. Be careful though, it will stay in her system longer," he had ordered. "And under no circumstances, give her any pain killers. It could knock her into a coma."
Then, he stormed out, leaving Frederick to hastily apologize before rushing after him. It was the first time he had seen Lelouch genuinely angry. Two hours later, the investigator left the hospital, quaking in his issued boots. Cindy swore that he had bawled like a newborn baby after Lelouch finally allowed him to escape.
After weeks of stress, the hospital felt unusually calm in Lelouch's wake. With a nurse, he had left a list of possible ailments their patients could be suffering from instead of Refrain addiction. Such a widespread affliction, he wrote, can only be due to a mighty foe that plagues every glorious Empire. A mere drug problem would have long been conquered by Britannia's loyal servants.
It was the only time he had seen Lelouch blatantly shrug off the mantle of plausible deniability. For a moment, he had seen the soldier as rage shattered his veneer of civility. But the soldier who vowed to serve Britannia loyalty didn't deliver them to the Knight Police's justice. Instead, he cast the law he swore to upheld aside, and grasped human compassion.
All because of Refrain...
"Were you the one to shoot him?" Naoto asked, remembering the week-long absence ended by Frederick dragging Lelouch into the clinic and asking for his help. The stitches had been a hasty patch job. When Naoto noted that it had become infected, Frederick spent the hour calling his friend a reckless idiot in increasingly creative ways.
Brian winced. "No, but Henry tried to shoot me because of it. He really doesn't like me. If they ever find my body in a ditch, it's probably 'cause he did me in. I was investigating. Lelouch was investigating. Both of us have trigger-happy morons. Accidents happen." He shrugged, as if it were to be expected. "We knew who was at fault but couldn't do anything. So I thought what the hell and told the kid. No idea how he did it, but he disappears for two days, comes back and asks me to inform him if there's any more trouble.
"I thought he was insane. A few hours later, one of my runners says the lord was arrested. Not for Refrain, but tax fraud. Didn't think it would do much. Apparently, tax evasion is serious business. He had investigators crawling up his ass for months. Every week, they were uncovering another dirty secret. Had it just been Refrain... he'd have paid a hefty fine and walked free. Especially, 'cause he was a Purists and the courts are in their pockets. Lelouch utterly ruined him."
"He always struck me as thorough," Naoto said, feeling faint. The entire affair had been long and drawn out. Every detail leaked to the media, who had a field day dragging the lord's name and his family through the mud. Every time the investigation seemed to slow, new allegations popped up. Lord Ashford claimed it would've been kinder to execute him.
Chuckling, Brian accepted a drink from the bartender. "A couple months later, he finds me again and asks where to buy some kabocha and if I know a cheap place to stay, where he won't get murdered in the night. Didn't ask for anything more and, despite being a soldier, he's friendly enough with everyone. Definitely better company than you sorry lots," he said, gesturing at Ohgi and Yoshida. The two bristled. "And an adequate cook."
"The sell-out is best friends with a Brit soldier," Yoshida drawled. "How original."
Brian stiffened but opened the envelope, scattering photos across the table. His eyes widened. "What kind of shit did you run into?"
"Britannian shit," Yoshida answered grimly, his hostility fading away at the sight of mutilated corpses, each one in a different state of decay. Most disturbing were the deliberate incisions, eerily reminiscent of the autopsies Naoto assisted with in his training. "There's some secret military base we've been keeping an eye on. I followed one of the plain old white vans the day before yesterday." Grimacing, he pointed at a photo of a young teen, burnt but still recognizable. "They dumped them into the docks. Called Ohgi and we poked around, finding even more."
"The injuries are different," Naoto whispered, scanning the corpses. He needed to be clinical. This was simply another exercise with unnamed patients, not a travesty of humanity. "They're all Japanese?"
"Yes," Ohgi whispered. "At least the best we can tell. Tamaki spotted General Bartley yesterday there. This... It's Prince Clovis's orders."
"I may hate him, but he doesn't have the guts," Yoshida said. "He's the reclusive artist type. I bet he'd faint at the sight of blood."
"Prince Clovis is sure pissing off everyone, huh?" Brian pushed away his drink, then the photos. "He assassinated Andrew Cameron. Had it staged like a suicide and everything. Should hit the news soon."
"The movie star?" Naoto asked. "I thought he died years ago. Simply disappeared."
"Nah, an accident paralyzed his lower legs. Him trying to act pissed Clovis off enough to get him killed." Brian shrugged, leaning back. "I need to check with Ban. Would feel like shit doing nothing. They all came from somewhere and to die like that? We protect the community, but if Clovis catches wind of us poking about his business, it'll bring heat down upon all of us."
"We need a distraction," Naoto said, stomach churning as he noticed the gruesome boils. A skin irritant. Were they testing a new weapon? Or had they merely discovered a black ops site used for interrogation? "Clovis will want to keep this quiet. It ruins his benevolent image."
Brian extended his arm, flashing a hand signal. "I might have a way to make Clovis uncomfortable for a few weeks."
The bartender and owner, Ban, dropped into the seat across from them. "You usually don't entertain these troublemakers, Brian." Silently, Brian pushed the photos to him. "Britannia," Ban said tiredly, "always finding new ways to surprise you in its depravity."
"You were in the army. Any insights?" Brian asked.
Next to Naoto, Ohgi and Yoshida stiffened. Soldiers rarely returned from the army. The few that did, people whispered were spies.
"Some power sick lunatic is behind it. It's different when it's a single person instead of a large group. There was a case we ran across. Some lord lured ladies into his home with honeyed words, of if they refused, force. The locals knew for years, but none of the other lords listened. It wasn't until our commander got wind of it that he was finally investigated and tried." Ban turned to Naoto. "You're with Lord Asfhord? He seems like the right sort. Tell him and he'll take it off our hands. Otherwise, many of us will die."
"Can't," Brian interrupted, before Naoto could speak. "It's Clovis."
"That... complicates things."
"Lord Ashford is close to the Empress Marianne," Naoto suggested. "He could raise the issue with the Emperor."
Ban shook his head. "He's definitely ordered worse. Maybe even had Prince Clovis run this."
"I know you don't want to give the army an excuse to come here—" Brian said.
"Not the army. This gets out, we'll have rioting in the street, and the Emperor will send in Zero. The JLF doesn't stand a chance."
"I think that's unfair," Ohgi said. "Zero is merely one commander, and the JLF has been preparing for years. We know the land; Zero doesn't."
Ban stared at them through half-lidded eyes. "Trust me. Anyone but Zero, I'd give you a fighting chance. Zero is a different type of beast."
Sneering, Yoshida leaned forward. "And you're such an expert?"
"Soldiers talk," Ban said slowly. "There's always a kernel of truth somewhere. You don't get those sort of rumors without being the best. I keep you troublemakers out of our hair for a reason. Small stuff, a broken law here and there, is fine. Anything bigger, we'll be obliterated, all of us deemed guilty."
"But can you ignore this?" Naoto asked urgently, seeing the window closing. They needed Brian's assistance to thoroughly investigate the docks. And for that, they had to convince this unassuming middle-aged man. "I'm here because I'm doing what's right. It'd be easier and safer to return to my life, ignoring all this. But what type of person would I be if I cast aside my beliefs for fear of the consequences? Or do you think Britannia has the right to dishonor our people?"
Ban pulled out a worn piece of paper from his jacket, running his finger along the edge, before tucking it away once more. When their eyes met again, his gaze was hard. "You're right. But your group will follow my rules."
It was a tentative alliance. Two Japanese resistance cells, two Honorary Britannians and their network of criminals, and one half-Britannian with connections to nobility. Most of their people hated each other on principle. But if any revolutions for Japan were to succeed, they needed to bridge these gaps. For Naoto, it gave him hope but also threatened to shatter his dream should they fail.
And as he had suggested, there was always the option of cluing in Lord Ashford.
Neutral District, Australia
Tired, Leila sat down in General Smilas's office and flipped through her notes. Jeanne was busy with Frederick, and to avoid suspicion, she had moved out of the embassy and into a small nearby apartment. Their investment was paying off nicely, but not well enough. Jeanne was anxious about manipulating a family member, and Frederick remained wary and guarded.
General Smilas had entrusted this mission to Leila. She couldn't fail him. This would finally lay to rest the persistent whispers from above that she would betray them for Britannia. Sometimes, she thought her countrymen were exactly like the Brits. Both blind by their vaunted superiority. But the E.U. was a better nation. Everyone had a voice, unlike Britannia which ruled from above without mercy and ignored the right of individual sovereignty.
General Smilas shut the door, throwing the newspaper announcing the Secretary of Defense's resignation on his desk, and sat across from her. "Any progress with the guard?"
"Not really. He distrusts us, so I've been keeping my distance in hopes of easing his mind. I don't think it's working," she said, angered at having made so little progress.
"We have enough leverage to enforce his compliance if necessary. Regardless, his wariness is good. It decreases the chance that this is a trap. I wouldn't put it past Prince Lelouch to play mind games with us. Speaking of which,"—he glared—"I thought I told you to keep your distance from him."
"We merely run into each other. He frequents one of the gentleman clubs and invites me to a game of chess. It would be impolite to refuse."
"You should. Every moment you spend in his company, he's analyzing you and searching for weaknesses. Do you have any idea of what his mother is capable of?"
"It's unfair to judge him for his parents," Leila countered. "Unlike his siblings, he's actually respectful and doesn't look down on us. He's well... normal."
General Smilas groaned and opened a drawer, pulling out a silver flask. "Royals are never normal. For every moment in their life, they are taught they are superior. Even Prince Odysseus, the one the Brits think is normal, has an impressive track record. At fourteen, he became the Minister of Agriculture. He managed to keep the nobles from tearing each other's throats out at the end of the Emblem of Blood. Additionally, he was pushing through humanitarian projects without alerting anyone."
"Isn't he called the Mediocre Prince?" Leila asked. "He probably had help. It's not like the Emperor would let his first-born son fail."
"Have you heard of the Fourth Prince, Antoninus ni Britannia? He imagined himself as the next great military genius. When attending the Imperial Academy, he proved himself highly intelligent and rumors of his prowess reached even our ears. Upon his graduation, the Emperor made him a Major General, and he accompanied Empress Marianne in establishing Area Nine. There, he found moderate success, only to fail at the very end of the campaign. We suspected sabotage from one of his siblings. What did the Emperor do?"
Leila frowned, trying to remember the name. Area Nine was established before her parents' demise, but her classes never covered the conquest in any depth. Their focus had always been more on Area Six and the failed invasion of 1993 when the E.U. and China attempted to take advantage of Britnania's Civil War. Emperor Charles had briefly called a truce with Emperor Brandon to violently expel them.
"Nothing?" Leila guessed.
"Worse." General Smilas grimaced. "He told his son to beg for forgiveness. Prince Antoninus believed himself infallible so refused and accused Empress Marianne of sabotaging his efforts. Afterwards, rumors of him embezzling money began to circulate. The Emperor did nothing for months, allowing his son's reputation to be completely destroyed. Only then, did he speak up to confirm the rumors and announce his arrest. The Emperor thanked the citizens for their vigilance and turned it into an opportunity to promote Social Darwinism."
She knew the Emperor was cruel. One only had to look at the conquered territories. Or open the Sunday newspaper where his gluttonous caricature spouted hateful rhetoric. Family was important though. She could rationalize his actions to the territories because he didn't see them worthy of being treated with respect. But to throw his own child to the wolves for political gain took a special form of savagery.
"He's the most likely candidate for Zero," General Smilas continued. "Time has dulled memories, but it's far safer for him to be of use, hidden behind a mask. The Emperor must dangle the hope of forgiveness before him. Not that he will ever grant it, Prince Antonious has a permanent stain on his record."
"Does he treat all his children with such callous disregard?" she asked.
"They all do. Siblings sabotage each other to gain the Emperor's favor. Normal does not survive in that family. A decent number of them are insane. Prince Odysseus is one of the few honest ones, but his main job is to keep his siblings from assassinating another. I don't know how he manages navigating that minefield, especially because they all hunger for his spot." General Smilas shook his head tiredly. "Your friend knows how to appear normal which makes him even more dangerous."
"Or do you believe that because Empress Marianne is his mother?" she asked. His paranoia was ridiculous. He had no proof to back up his claims. "I know Frederick genuinely likes him to the point of considering him a friend."
General Smilas scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous. A prince would never consider a commoner a friend."
Leila frowned. "His mother was a commoner. She might have brought him up differently."
"She wanted nothing more than power. If she could forget her heritage, she would," he said. "I doubt she deprived the boy of a royal education and everything that entailed."
"You're being paranoid." She crossed her arms. "He cooks regularly, judging from Frederick's frequent grocery runs, and nobles consider that beneath them. The only complaint Frederick ever has is that Prince Lelouch regularly forgets to write his shopping list in English. Jeanne took a photo of it once because she couldn't believe it. There were six different languages there. Last week, we had a discussion on Marxism. None of that paints the picture of some stuck-up prince who believes in Britannia's ideology."
General Smilas pulled out a file and began rapidly flipping through it. "Still not normal. Have you noticed he never eats or drinks anything he hasn't brought himself? Or positions himself so he has a clear view of any nearby windows or doors? Empress Marianne was supposedly crippled in an assassination attempt. It looks like she wasn't the only one targeted, perhaps explaining his reclusive nature. Still, he had to have been hiding somewhere..." His brow furrowed. "He accepts food from Frederick."
He rushed out of the room, only to return with a much larger file. Clearing off the desk, he pushed Frederick's file into her hands. Curious, she opened it. Surveillance photos from afar tracked him throughout the city. In a few, Prince Lelouch, wearing incredibly casual clothes, joined him. The reports accompanying these photos were noticeably thicker, tracking their route in great detail.
The surveillance team suspected Prince Lelouch of having a gambling problem. Which was fair; she had seen him in a casino. Again, it wasn't a very princely past time.
General Smilas set down the folder focusing on Prince Lelouch and leaned back, crossing his arms and observing the ceiling. "Did either of them give a hint as to how they met?"
"No," she said.
Instead of being disappointed, General Smilas, his eyes wide, straightened. "That's interesting. Most Brits would love to boast or moan about how they caught the attention of a royal. A commoner soldier from a family with defectors becoming a member of Prince Lelouch's royal guard? He would have had to impress him a great deal."
Leila narrowed her eyes, deep in thought. "Frederick's family can't travel freely, so unless Prince Lelouch visited a town in the middle of nowhere, he would have met Frederick when he was in the army."
"Exactly. The question then is what a young prince was doing near military operations." General Smilas paused. "It would be so much easier if we knew how long Frederick has been his guard, but his family still thinks he is in the army..."
"Yet, they know each other well," Leila said. Their arrangement couldn't be a recent development. Frederick was too relaxed around him and accustomed to his quirks. Slowly, she flipped to the end where Jeanne had submitted copies of every letter she had received.
"Perhaps Marianne took him along, but the media loves to hound her. It's unlikely they would never have caught sight of him."
"Lord Ashford perhaps?" Leila suggested, scanning the letters for an anomaly. "He was her sponsor and runs a school. It'd be an ideal place to hide someone."
"He's too acclimated to military behavior to be a school boy. It's subtle, but neither of his elder siblings are comfortable with our mannerisms. Even when I exaggerate them, Prince Lelouch is unfazed."
A photo slid out of one of the letters and Leia smiled as she saw Frederick, easily recognizable, hanging off another boy. Beside him was the other guard... Henry. While the face was more gaunt now and he had grown into his oversized limbs, his scowl was instantly recognizable. He was from the army as well? Curious, she glanced at the other members, wondering where they were now. Under the glare of an elder, prim teen, two young boys sulked at the edge of the frame. Unlike the rest of the group, their clothes were ruffled and their faces, hidden.
Leila set the photo aside and reached for the accompanying letter. Inside, she found yet another photo. This time, a more proper group picture. Each stood at formal attention, directly facing the camera. The younger two had pulled down their caps, casting their faces into the shadow. Clearly, camera shy. She smiled, reminded of her own childhood and evading her father's relentless clicking camera.
General Smilas took another sip from the flask. "I'd say he was military, but we would've heard of it. The other officers would've been incessant gossips about another royal joining their ranks."
"Possibly under a different name?" Leila suggested.
He snorted. "Maybe it'd fool the lower nobility but not anyone of importance. They'd recognize another royal in their midst. Regardless, a royal would never act like someone beneath them. They breathe superiority. Have you seen the picture of Princess Cornelia and Sir Guilford's recent attempt at going out incognito?"
Leila chuckled, withdrawing the surveillance photos again. "She looked like a fish out of water."
"I've never seen anyone more uncomfortable; her knight was barely any better." He shook his head. "Nobody informed them. Too afraid, I imagine, but apparently they were calling everyone commoners and kept wiping their hands on a silk handkerchief after touching anything. Without their titles, the Brits wouldn't last a day in the normal world."
"People don't recognize Prince Lelouch though," she said. "His face is plastered on every gossip rag, yet he still manages to go incognito. Two days ago, I stumbled upon him and his guards at the kiosk two blocks down. Ms. Wallis stocks gossip rags, but she was standing there laughing at a joke. She looked so horrified when she found out."
"He slipped. A few mere minutes is merely a novelty. It's probably a game for him."
Leila shook her head. "Ms. Wallis was selling some... unflattering caricatures. Frederick revealed his identity to prevent him from buying them all."
"Please tell me she's left the city, better yet, the country," General Smilas begged. "We have enough cartoonists mysteriously falling ill. What was she thinking?"
"Of course, I insisted." She wasn't an idiot. The royal family zealously guarded their public image. "But Prince Lelouch apparently found them hilarious. He's... different."
At General Smilas's condescending look, she lowered her head and pursed her lips. He was blinded by prejudice, discarding evidence because it defied his beliefs. Her eyes wandered over to the group photo, unable to shake the feeling she was missing something. If only he could see Prince Lelouch was not just a royal.
"If you let your guard down for a moment, he will destroy you, Leila," he said gently. "He's playing you."
Retort dying on her tongue, she at last registered the young boy's damning purple eyes. It couldn't be. Frederick had enlisted. This was his squadron from Basic. That shade of purple... Nothing else suggested they were the same. Prince Lelouch, while often relaxed, always carried himself with refined grace befitting of a royal. His minimalist outfits were well put together. His blond hair, always smoothly combed. Every moment in his presence demanded to be remembered. The boy though, he slouched and faded into the background. Unremarkable, submissive, and unkempt.
That couldn't be Prince Lelouch. But that was Frederick, and by his side, Henry. Hadn't she just argued Prince Lelouch could pass as someone else?
Hands trembling, she passed the picture to General Smilas. "The young boy on the right. Look familiar?"
General Smilas leaned over the desk, grabbing the picture. His eyebrows drew together, and he grimaced. "The other guard is in here too."
"The boy has purple eyes."
"She would never—" General Smilas groaned. "Of course, she would. She's insane, perfect for the family she married into. Having her son enlist?"
Heart pounding, Leila scooted closer and glanced at the image. He looked so... different. Was it merely growing up that had rendered his younger self unrecognizable? "Are you sure it's him?"
"Eliminate the possible... " Wincing, he drained the flask. "I can't believe— For Prince Lelouch's first assignment in the public eye, the Emperor sends him out of the country but doesn't assign him a proper role. He hasn't made any attempt to become closer to his siblings, rather he embraces activities they shun. If the Emperor sent him to spy on them, he is doing a poor job."
Finally, General Smilas was beginning to understand what Leila had deduced. She would even go as far to say he had no interest in upholding royal traditions. If he had spent years enlisted as a common soldier, before finally withdrawing to become an ambassador, then he would understand the plight of the common man. Perhaps he even saw how Britannia's very institution was corrupt.
"Empress Marianne grows ever more popular," General Smilas said. "Both of her children are lucrative targets. No noble would ever consider searching for him in the enlisted ranks. Even our own people never considered the possibility. And when it was too suspicious for him to remain hidden, the Emperor sent him out of the country to a secure location where assassins would struggle to reach him."
His face twisted. "Putain de merde! Bloody Marianne's son is a damn military brat. We need to move forward with Frederick after the banquet, whether he is ready or not."
Worldbuilding Thoughts:
-As to Lelouch's bookshelf: Common Sense by Thomas Paine is an incredibly influential pamphlet published at the beginning of the American Revolution arguing for democracy. Most notably, it's incredibly critical of the king and absolute monarchies. Critique of Pure Reason by Immanuel Kant is the first of his three critiques and precedes his two books on morals. This one lays the groundwork of his thought process and the idea that there can't exist knowledge independent of experience, a revolutionary idea at the time. Kantian philosophy is also the basis upon which Marxism is built along with Hegel. Most people know Machiavelli for The Prince and throwing morality out the window. His other work, Discourses on Livy, is radically different, offering instead an argument for why republics are superior and why principalities were doomed to ultimately fail. It also suggests revolutions are necessary.
-Free Speech: Britannia clearly doesn't have it in my fic, despite the anime having a character claim otherwise (yet the anime shows evidence to the contrary with how Diethard was demoted). A common tactic in modern successful dictatorship is to give the illusion of freedom speech by disapproving or burying unwanted news. Or, in more extreme cases, having journalists take a surprise vacation to be reeducated or killed. Whether the E.U. protects free speech is debatable. Napoleon took extreme measures to limit the freedom of press. So there is a good chance that the E.U. does not have a constitutional right to freedom of speech and the press.
-The entire Geass Order reeks of human experimentation personally, so I really don't think the Emperor would care about Clovis's secret project were it not for C.C. This brings up the question whether Clovis knew C.C. was important to him, or if he thought the human experimentation part would get him disinherited.
Author's Note
Hello, 2021...
Lelouch's plan is about complete. I've sprinkled in a few clues, but I'm unsure how many people spotted them. Hopefully everyone has a vague sense of what it entails, or maybe it'll catch you by surprise. Regardless, feel free to speculate. Once it's complete, most of it will be explained.
Chat with me on the discord: discord . gg / uSBegVj
Thank you x1tears1X and Spaded Ace18 on FFN for your help with betaing.