Recap: The 712th is going to Japan/Area Eleven as humanitarian relief (and to investigate Clovis). Kallen has heard a lot of Gosling during her time there, but she only knows of Roy so far. Marianne found her sister, and Alex is investigating the student council.
Chapter 30: Dangerous Players
The Britannians with Disability Act of 2017 was a landmark civil rights law which required all public spaces to be accessible. Various prominent public figures decried the act for placing an undue burden on their businesses. At the time, Britannian policy openly touted the merits of discrimination, and its passing is largely accredited to Marianne vi Britannia who, along with Lord Joseph Aldfeld, wrote the initial draft and voiced their public support. The bill was later amended to prohibit discrimination based on disability, and, then again, to require reasonable accommodations for employment. Early court cases restricted the applicability of the act, limiting its effectiveness. In some communities, hate crimes rose although it's unclear how much of that was due to improved reporting.
—The BDA
712th Division Base, Area Six
Wherever Roy turned, officers harried his footsteps with clarifications and approvals. As Lelouch expected trouble, the bulk of the division was heading to Area Eleven. The supplies needed to be packed; the ammunitions, secured; the transports, prepared.
"How is Lelouch doing?" Pablo interrupted Roy refilling his coffee.
"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" Roy had York of all people pestering him an hour earlier. "I'm sorry. I don't have time for this."
"Maybe because he's pale as a corpse. Or because we all know he has issues with Japan. Lelouch practically fell over himself to put our former accountant at ease."
"Go ask him yourself if you're concerned." Roy wiped his forehead. "Sorry. Just you two avoiding each other is not going to help here. I know it's hard—"
"You don't," Pablo hissed. "You know absolutely nothing."
"Damn it, Pablo. We don't have time for this, and the men are talking. We can't appear divided. Talk to him. Do whatever you need to sort things out because Lelouch needs you."
"And it's always because of what Lelouch needs," Pablo accused.
Roy growled. "No. It's because Lelouch saw the fucking invasion of Japan as a kid and is now being ordered back there with an army. It's because Lelouch knows people on the ground there, people he's never going to call on or check on because he's terrified it'll be used against him. It's because Lelouch is the fucking commander and we're dealing with a powder keg—where hostile civilians are on the edge of a rampage, and the JLF, the most well equipped terrorist organization in Britannia, will be on our doorsteps. I need everyone in top shape. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir." Pablo watched him silently as he regained his breath.
This was going to be a nightmare. No. It already was one.
"Why did you change your mind?" Pablo asked. At his confused look, he continued. "You were going to tell me about Lelouch's parents, but you stopped."
"Lelouch didn't want me to tell anyone."
"Then why have you been talking to the colonels? Are we even friends?"
Roy grimaced and stepped back. "Yes. Damn it. I didn't want that on your shoulders. I'm still processing this absolute clusterfuck."
"You should be pleased. You were always loyal to your royals."
"We cannot have this conversation here.".
"Then maybe you should answer me, sir." Pablo clenched his hands. "Did you think I would hurt him? Is that it?"
"No." Running his hand through his hair, Roy composed himself. "I was worried you would go of and do something stupid."
"Stupid?" The word hung heavy in the air.
"You practically hang off Lelouch. How do you think he ended up in the army? Art knows too, always has, and he has nothing good to say about the bastard. Tell me, honestly, that you don't want to kill the bastard for the hell he put—continues to put Lelouch through."
"I do... But why do you, Roy?"
He recoiled.
"I know how to control myself. We all know how to; we have to if we want to survive." Pablo narrowed his eyes. "Careful on whom you project."
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I should have told you. You deserved to know... and Lelouch shouldn't have made you do that. It was... unnecessary."
Pablo nodded. "I'm angry that he didn't trust me enough to tell me before. Because if he had, maybe— The worst part is that Lelouch can change things. He has that power, yet he is here, and I cannot for the life of me understand why."
"He didn't tell me; my grandmother recognized him. Frederick put it together because of some magazines. Henry... I presume the Emperor told him; he is working for him. And Art?" Roy scoffed. "Lelouch would rather none of us know. It's not really a matter of trust. That he told you at all…"
"He's a—" Pablo cut himself off. "Don't do this to me."
"Will you leave him?" Roy asked, voice pitching lower as if it was an order.
"No, sir," Pablo replied automatically and grimaced.
"There's your answer then. He's still Lelouch. Before, he would have taken a bullet for you; tomorrow, he would do the same, because as we both know, he's an idiot. Simply more of one than you thought."
"Well—" Pablo chuckled weakly. "At least I don't have to worry anymore that the Emperor will kill him."
Roy flinched. Death wasn't on the main menu; worse options were.
"What?" Pablo demanded.
"The Emperor whipped one of his daughters, and Lelouch— He sees nothing wrong with that."
"That's..."
"He thinks if he did something as stupid he would deserve it. Everything his father did to him is somehow justified in his mind. His father gives him a scrap of affection, and he even drops calling him a bastard." Roy tilted back his head. "I fear he will let his father hurt him."
"So you are telling the others, hoping we can defend him instead." The corner of his mouth twitched upwards. "That would be a coup."
"It's not," he huffed.
"Did he tell you his plan?"
Plan? There was one besides turning down the throne? "No?"
"It's a good one," Pablo answered, eyes distant. "If he succeeds, all the sacrifices might even be worth it. Can I borrow a book on the royals?"
"Why?"
"To study his enemies, of course. If you have something on General Cornelia that would be appreciated as well. She is going to be an obstacle."
"I'll give you what I have before the flight," Roy promised, off kilter. "What plan?"
"It's not nice being in the dark, is it?" Pablo smirked.
As he turned to leave, Roy grabbed his shoulder. "You should talk to Lelouch. You know he is beating himself up."
"I will take it under advisement."
Roy watched him go. What had Lelouch been thinking telling him right after demanding that he kill his grandfather? His friend had tact, supposedly.
Killing family... It left a sour taste in his mouth and reminded him of how his grandmother had become much less eager about pursuing Lelouch after his wedding.
Despite the unideal circumstances, at least Lelouch had told someone. Was he finally realizing the necessity in telling others and becoming more comfortable in his role as a prince? Unfortunately, that carried risks as well. The Lelouch he met in training was far gone, buried beneath years of experience and self-discovery. The same would happen to the Lelouch that he knew now.
Their fates were tied together, and even if Roy wouldn't like the new version, he would have no choice but to follow. Somehow, he was fine with that.
Imperial Palace, Pendragon, Area Three
Marianne ate her breakfast silently as she battled a pounding headache and glared at her phone resting on the table. She had just calmed Nunnally down, and now Clovis purged an entire ghetto filled with those Elevens her children were irrationally attached to. At this point, she would be better served running damage control with Charles.
Both her children were going to be pissed beyond reason when they heard the news.
Charles entered the dining room, unusually tired, and pulled out a seat. He raised an eyebrow at the phone and grabbed a danish before slumping.
"Clovis?" Marianne guessed.
"I had thought that boy to have some self-preservation instincts. Or at least to be too timid and incompetent to plot a betrayal." Leaning back, he accepted the teacup from a servant and dumped in three times as much sugar than normal. "Clearly, I was mistaken."
"Nunnally might try to kill him." If Marianne broached the subject now, then the fallout wouldn't be as much of a shock when the inevitable happened.
"Nunnally?" He stirred his tea, strangely calm. "I would be more concerned about Lelouch."
Except he wasn't in Area Eleven... "Charles. What. Did. You. Do?"
He yawned and took a long sip. "I hate time zone differences. And he asked, dear. No need to bite my head off."
"Charles," she growled.
"He informed me of the situation and tried to use his favor to go and help." He set down the teacup and observed it intently. "He does know how a favor works? I did not offer him an audience whenever he desired. He already earned that right."
"You shouldn't have let him go," Marianne grumbled. Area Eleven had left deep scars. Not to mention, the Purists held too much power there and would be frothing if they heard he had been granted any authority there.
"He asked." Charles nibbled on another danish, and she absently pushed to him the bowl of mixed fruits. "It could do him some good. He understands the nature of the task he has claimed. He has a chance to finally be the prince he is meant to be."
Marianne bit her lip. "Or he won't talk to either of us again."
"Your objection has been noted." He rolled his eyes as she nudged the fruits again but obliged. Glancing at the door, he paused. "Where is Nunnally?"
"She has no respect for the morning." Pouring herself another cup of tea, she shook her head. "One of her friends is in Pendragon. She decided to visit since we're back sooner than expected.." She twirled a fork. "I'm assigning her an Unspeakable as a permanent guard."
"Ashford Academy is safe."
"Yes, but she likes to wander off."
Charles winced.
"I found my sister," Marianne announced abruptly. Her heart hammered uncomfortably. She should've told Charles what she was doing. "Nunnally and I went to my old home... and we ran into her."
"You remember her?" Charles asked carefully.
"I guess I forgot," Marianne mumbled. "It hurts so much. I left her for dead, but she was alive, suffering, while I was living here." She snarled. "V.V. found her. Your brother is a freak."
"Marianne," Charles said softly. "You asked to forget." He rose and settled a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You kept having nightmares about her. You begged me to help you forget."
"But—"
He grimaced. "Well, it was clearly not the first time he lied to us."
Her knuckles turned white around the knife in her hand. "Then I handed her to him."
"You brought her here, didn't you?" he asked.
"Of course. I'm not letting her go back to him." She leaned into his comforting grip. "She has a son, my nephew I need to get him out as well."
"One thing at a time." Charles combed his hand through her hair. "You weren't supposed to remember."
"Did I—?"
"No. I swore to you that it would only be that one time. It's not safe. Or healthy... If you ask me again, the answer will be no."
Marianne straightened and inhaled steadily. "I can't afford to be blind anymore."
Daedalus, Location Classified, E.U.
Footsteps rang hollow as Gene Smilas strode down the brightly lit hallways and past the false windows depicting Paris in all its glory. Nothing in his surroundings suggested they were over a mile underground.
He stopped at one of the numerous security checkpoints and submitted himself to the wearisome procedure. Retinal check. Password. X-ray. Britannian spies were infuriatingly skilled at sneaking into places they shouldn't even know of.
They had managed to keep their project under wraps for years. Incessant paranoia it perhaps was, but it was their only project that Britannian intelligence hadn't caught a whiff of.
"How is the President?" asked Jacques, head of the Direction du Renseignement Militaire. His eyes were bloodshot and his fingers drummed the table for a cigarette. Two weeks ago, he had loudly declared that the President was a liability and had officially been sick since.
"Still pushing for a glorious Hail Mary strike against Britannia."
"We're not ready yet," one of his officers griped.
"Well, the public is. We're going to need to swing some small victory without tipping our hand to appease them." Gene accepted the briefing. "What's our timeline?"
They turned expectantly to the head of research who snored lightly.
"Pierre!" Gene barked.
His head rose slowly, and he casually inspected his cup. "What?"
"How much longer?"
"The float systems you secured from Schneizel shaved six months off. But unless we can test—"
"Not an option. We will lose the element of surprise."
Pierre shrugged half heartedly. "Then it will be done when it's done, and we pray that it works."
"An estimate," Jacques said. "Give us something to work with."
"And then it'll be delayed, and everyone will inevitably be mad. Science shouldn't be rushed." Huffing, Pierre waved his hand. "Five years?"
"What of the neural interface?" one of his officers asked. "We don't have that time."
"Has some pesky little glitches. The knightmare really doesn't like me. If I could take apart the LeFay, I would have it ready in a month."
"Is it usable?" Gene pressed. He needed something, or they would only gain the key to Brittannia's defeat when it was too late to use it.
"If you don't care about the long term health of the pilot, sure."
Victorious smiles illuminated the room, and they all sat a little taller.
Jacques remained grim and turned on the projector, displaying a map of Area Six. "I hope it's enough because Britannia never stopped producing oil."
"A ruse," Hugo said, the head of the Service Central du Renseignement Territorial. The slide switched to Area Fifteen and the port which carried the majority of trade. "Like in Area Fifteen where no effort has been put into stabilizing the Area, and Britannian covert ops have been mixing with terrorists to harry our units. We're bleeding money running security. I requested a copy of the lease for the port from the MEF. If it succumbs to a terrorist attack, ownership will revert to Britannia."
Jacques crossed his arms. "And guess whose fingerprints are over both?"
"Prince Lelouch," Gene answered.
The Secretary of State's brow furrowed, and he examined his docket. "If Britannia floods the market, it will be uncomfortable, but there is no reason why we won't be able to weather it. This move hurts Britannia far more than us."
A loud crunch dispersed the tense atmosphere, and Claude, Minister of Foreign Affairs, bit into another chip. "Except the Chinese have been the hardest hit, and they're not exactly pleased at being left out with our agreement over the Port of Djibouti. The eunuchs are too prideful to forget such an insult. The recent months have also highlighted the need for them to secure their own reserves to be more independent."
"I don't follow."
"China will invade the MEF," Gene realized in horror. Learning that Prince Lelouch was a soldier had blinded him to the possibility of such an atypical Britannian attack at this scale. For all that the prince had been trained as his father's perfect soldier, he also adeptly discussed political philosophy with Leila.
Claude poured out the last of the crumbs in his bag on the table. "Britannia will wait until they do, and then tank the price of oil. The MEF has been bolstering their military with the newfound revenue, except they have been contracting to Britannia. Apparently, their ambassador has great respect for the prodigious prince. As part of this, the MEF is crawling with Britannian 'security' forces."
"And when China invades, they can take the opportunity to conduct a coup with minimal losses. Hell, the people might even thank them for saving them." Swearing, Jacques cradled his head. "Why does it keep getting worse?"
Wincing, Gene added, "Leila Malcal managed to pass a message through her fiance. Prince Schneizel will marry Empress Tianzi. It will take some time for it to go through but..."
The Secretary of State sighed. "None of it has happened yet. We have some time to run damage control. The marriage can be sabotaged, and as we are now forewarned, we have the opportunity to turn the situation to our advantage. We already have an army to use on Britannian soil—the JLF."
"What I'm more concerned about," Jacques interrupted, "is how the boy managed to convince the Emperor to support his plan. It is a most un-Britannian strategy. They're all about showy displays of honor and clear overwhelming force. The last time a country attempted something remotely similar, it was Japan."
"The Emperor is notoriously risk averse," Hugo added. "Britannia purposefully weakened itself to gain an advantage. So either Britannia had some way to ensure the success of his gambit, or the Emperor has given one of his sons an unprecedented level of free reign. Even Schneizel for all his posturing has never been allowed to risk the Empire as such."
Gene pinched his nose. "Prince Lelouch enlisted at the age of twelve. Both of his guards were with him in Basic. The Emperor's control over his son is absolute. The negotiations didn't budge, until Prince Lelouch proposed a solution and suddenly he was amiable. He trusts his son's judgment."
"Why wasn't that in your report?" Claude accused.
"Because our reports have a tendency to be forwarded to Britannia. Leila Malcal was the one who brought the evidence to my attention."
"A child soldier?" Jacques confirmed, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with a steady hand. "Then the JLF's plot to curry favor with him is doomed to fail. Meanwhile, we have not one foe with elaborate schemes but two. The latter won't be swayed by helping fund covert research operations in Cambodia."
"He is exceedingly intelligent," Gene warned. "Prince Schneizel is as well, but he is a foe we know well and predictable in his self-interests."
"If we can pin the boy's assassination on the Chinese, the marriage would fall through as well and keep Marianne sufficiently preoccupied."
Claude shook his head. "The boy is a ghost. From what we do know, he is paranoid to the extreme. The only girls he has ever shown the barest interest in are Sumeragi and Malcal. Our assets have no way to approach him."
"Malcal does," Hugo said. "She could kill him."
"As a last resort," Gene qualified. "The culprit behind her actions would be painfully obvious."
One of his officers finally spoke. "It is better to do it now before he is released on the battlefield."
Gene massaged his temples as they bickered over the merits of silencing a teen and abandoning Malcal to execution. She was the only one who had access, but it would be such a tremendous waste of potential. He had watched her for years, and if they were going to win the war against Britannia, they would need more tactical minds like her.
Except she was in Britannia; his coworkers viewed her little better than a traitor
"What of Britannia's mental disruptor?" Gene interrupted.
Pierre glared at them as they roused him from his nap. "We have no proof that it exists."
"It has to," Hugo said. "We have backup footage of an entire room freezing as a boy just walks in and kills one of our men. You cannot explain that as some group hallucination. We tested the air for drugs. It was clear."
"Not to mention what Mr. Breisgau promised us in exchange for his safety." Reclining, Claude smirked. "See, Gene wants to save his little protege, and the Australians are rather insistent about not allowing improper access to their vaults. If we extract her, we can open the vault."
"If the information even exists," Hugo dismissed. "He made many promises but died before fulfilling most of them."
"That was a failure on our side. We assured him of his safety. She will turn eighteen next year. Plenty of time for the Emperor to convince her to allow them to reclaim whatever her father stole and hid in the vaults," Gene warned.
"If she's dead, then Britannia can't claim it either." Claude sighed. "I can call in a favor or two with my Australian contact such that they will keep her vault locked until she is no longer under duress."
"We should just invade Australia," mumbled one of his officers.
"Ah, like Britannia threatened to?" the other mocked. "It's not a victory if we are all dirt poor afterwards."
"We will delay," Gene said. The situation could change at the drop of a dime. "If the opportunity arises to eliminate the prince without it being traced to us, we will take it. As for a military victory to feed the public?"
Jacques exhaled a thin stream of smoke. "Prince Clovis has made a right mess in Area Eleven, hasn't he? For all that the Chinese are posturing about wanting to be allies, they will leap on the opportunity to claim the sakuradite deposits. They even have a convenient rogue army of Japan to blame the incident on should it turn sour. Truly unfortunate that some of our new knightmare pilots defected to join them. Right along with our prototypes."
"So we reveal part of our hand," Smilas said. "Britannian forces will be scrambling to counter, and we can finally publicly help our ally in the Congo. Do you have any objections, Secretary of State?"
He shook his head. "No. This is a reasonable course."
"I will let you brief the President on the matter," Gene offered.
"I think it is best you decide how much he should now. The President respects you; my opinion matters very little."
While the man hadn't been his first choice for the President, he was proving to be an unexpected boon to Gene's career. The others met his eye with a slight nod. They were behind him, first and foremost. The President's lack of respect had driven them firmly into his corner.
"I think I will face Cornelia myself if you don't mind," Gene said. "Let us save our republic."
And he would do it. Britannia couldn't be defeated by anything but swift and decisive action which the fumbling bureaucracy of checks and balances—that the President publicly decried—actively hindered. Napoleon had ruled Europe with a stringent fist as the masses cheered him on, winning election after election.
In an anterior hallway, Jacques pulled him aside. "Excellent work in creating that opportunity. Watch your back with the President."
Gene chuckled. "He'll discard me when I am of no use anymore, but I think we will both move first. Do you have what you need now?"
"Of course. I always do." Jacques laughed. "Once Pierre is done, everything will be set."
Tokyo, Area Eleven
While Alex's main assignment was progressing smoothly, there was no rest for the wicked in the OSI and their handler dumped an additional assignment in his lap. Mark complained incessantly about cataloging hundreds of boxes of year old paperwork, but to Alex, the work was a much welcome relief. For all that his throat burned at decade old cobwebs, the air outside had turned putrid and heavy, with ash decking the streets like fine snow.
Mark disturbed the peace with a vicious swear and cradled his finger. The paper fluttered over to Alex, and he picked it up by the red stained edge. An intelligence report on Sumeragi Industries. He dutifully filed it and returned to digging through the noble's hidden skeleton, illuminated in black print. Most of it was boring and useless, but Alex diligently noted each of Lelouch's enemies and allies.
"Damn, Eleven bitch," Mark grumbled. He huffed and dumped the next box onto the table, along with the corpse of a spider. "His Highness should be going after the JLF, not the NAC. That's where the terrorists are."
"If you find them, I am sure you will get a reward. And done." He dropped his last box onto the cart. "Tomorrow, it's the Purists."
"I'm only at 2013. It's a bunch of old men and a little girl." He paused. "Pick me up some pizza from the good place when you come back from your date?"
"It's surveillance." He grabbed a nicer shirt, free of dust, off the shelf and checked the mic. "You're just jealous I look young enough to pull it off."
"You're too cautious. The boy's terrified of us."
Alex left and picked up some roses from the corner shop. The orange sky glowered at him, and he raised the hem of his shirt to cover his mouth. The distant lights of the Viceroy's palace broke through the relentless haze—unconquerable. Trucks hurtled through the streets as soldiers clamored.
"Andreas!" Shirley shouted, waving both her arms.
He pecked her on the cheek and offered her the bouquet which she gushed over. Her hand brushed against his. He imagined them covered in blood. She was nice enough, which made it such a shame that she had the misfortune to ask him out on a date when he returned her phone.
Her hand repeatedly brushed over the bag, and her tone was unusually subdued. She flinched when the soldiers approached, so different from their earlier meetings.
"You seem worried," he noted. Shawn was never going to shut up if she was associated with the Black King; Alex would orchestrate an accident before surrendering her to his custody.
Shirley nibbled on her lower lip, and her shoulders rose defensively. "Can I trust you?"
"Of course," Alex assured, grabbing her hand. "Whatever it is, I will do my best to help. I promise."
"You're too nice."
"I think that applies more to you. Your smile could even amuse the Emperor."
She huffed. "Stop being silly. It's just... Have you seen Sinjuku?"
More than he wished to. Another team was scouring the knightmare footage for hints as to the terrorist.
"I can't—It's awful." A sob broke free, and she threw herself at him, ruining his shirt. "Some of the kids laughed at the footage. And Milly got so mad, she yelled at them. Now everyone is calling her a Number lover. But it's not right. And Rivalz got mugged!"
He rubbed her back soothingly. "How did you learn about that? I can't even imagine—"
Sniffling, she pulled a flyer out of her bag. "I'm supposed to hang them up. Euphie is the brave one, sneaking near there to take pictures. And she's trying to figure out how to get food in. But I'm just—"
"You're a student," Alex reminded her, dread pooling in his stomach. "I know a way in. I used it as a shortcut when I needed to deliver pizzas to the other side of the city. It's a bit cramped."
"Can you..." She leaned back and grabbed his hand. "Will you tell the others?"
He nodded, wishing that she would be more cautious. His silent please remained unheard, and he was led to a small apartment—which was not listed as official property. The windows had no clear line of sight, a tree obscuring the way. His fingers skimmed over the raised seal of the Black Knights on the rickety railing. And across the street, a young man tipped his hat at Alex. He was a high ranking subordinate of the former Black King.
The door opened, squashing the last of his hopes that there could be a peaceful resolution. The walls were covered in hundreds of fresh photos depicting the situation in Shinjuku. On a nearby computer, the Chrysanthemum was open to an unpublished article. But worst of all, in the center of the fray, stood Diethard Reid, Prince Clovis's Media Director."
"And who is this?" Reid asked, extending a hand to Alex.
Alex shuffled his feet. "Uh, Shirley and I are..."
"Dating," she interrupted. "And he knows how to get into the ghetto."
In the back, he spotted Rivalz leaning on a crutch and rapidly paling. He smirked in challenge, and the boy flinched, stumbling backwards and successfully drawing attention away from Alex.
Allie approached, eyes narrowed. "Do you?"
"Yeah. I used it as a shortcut when I delivered pizzas. It's on many maps." Because the OSI made sure to keep it off them.
Desperate hunger in the end won over prudence, and they welcomed him into the group. While their connection to organized crime was bewildering, Reid's presence brought a much bigger concern—treason.
"Your report?" his superior asked that evening.
Alex bitterly told the truth, finishing with, "We should move in as early as possible before they escalate further." Preferably before Nunnally returned. "The core members of the group appear to be Allie Welch, Milly Ashford, and Euphie Lichtberg. The others are only tangentially involved, and the blind girl hasn't been in the Area. I suspect she is under Lord Ashford's protection."
"Yes," he mumbled. "Her kind wouldn't be able to attend otherwise, but the Ashford heiress presents a problem. Keep your cover until we make our move. Dismissed."
With that, Nunnally should be safe, but her friends— A shiver tore down Alex's spine, and he buried himself in cataloging as the distant screams echoed the students' voices.
712th Division Base, Area Six
The chaos of deployment surrounded Kallen, and she struggled under the weight of equipment as they loaded the truck. Nobody had any idea where they were going, but the orders had come from above.
Shaari snickered as one of the other platoons slipped in the mud and their package splashed to the ground. In their not-quite-friendship-but approaching-one, Kallen had discovered a streak of vindictive amusement. She didn't allow herself to indulge at the sight of Britannian soldiers in the mud. Laughing at others' plight would earn her more enemies than allies.
Always be polite, Kaguya had cautioned. Honey trapped more flies than vinegar. Anger and violence was for when regular tactics failed. Where seduction played into that, Kallen didn't quite understand, and Kaguya had waved her question off, absently grumbling about obtuse idiots. Not many would consider consorting with someone of impure blood anyway.
Maybe it mattered more when already in a marriage. Childhood bedtime stories had always cautioned against inviting cunning women into the house, and how, when their husband fell short of their expectations, they turned the house against them. The treasury was traditionally in the wife's control. Of course, a cunning and loyal wife could bring a house to new heights as well.
"Stadtfeld," the Drill Sergeant barked as she rushed back. She froze, wracking her mind for what she had done wrong. His scowl only grew deeper. "Gosling wants to speak to you. Go."
Following the ever so helpfully vague direction, Kallen took off at a light jog and searched for a tall, thin old man who fit the various descriptions she had heard.
"Over here, Stadtfeld," hollered a strong commanding voice.
She twisted around to stare at the lithe owner. After a split-second hesitation, she sprinted to him. It was Lamperouge. She didn't make the same mistake as last time with Fadiman, where her surprise overrode all common sense. She snapped to attention. "Yes, sir? I was told Gosling wanted to see me."
Lazily, he returned the salute, and his eyes scanned their surrounding area. His jacket hung loosely around his frame, the collar scandalously open. The hem was about half-an-inch too short, yet it did nothing to hinder his effortless elegance. Her eyes found no rank markings, but if his close friend was a Brigadier General, he was undoubtedly highly ranked as well.
"Yes," he answered dryly. "I wanted to speak to you. Walk with me."
Wait, what? "But sir—" He raised a condescending eyebrow, and she flushed. "My apologies. What should I address you as, sir?"
"Major General or General Lamperouge works fine." He didn't wait for her, already walking off, and she rushed to keep pace with his lengthy strides.
"You're Gosling," she gasped, trying to understand. He was nineteen. There was absolutely no way anyone would be insane enough to put someone as young as him in a position of power. But he was black ops; his parents were black ops; this unit was black ops. The rules were clearly different here.
Nunnally knew. Kallen still remembered her lashing out at Euphie and asking her what she would do if her sister killed thousands to protect her. Her chilling answer to the question ringed in her mind. Nunnally would kill the hostages first to spare her brother's sullied hands.
"Unfortunately," Lamperouge answered. "I would advise against addressing your commanding officer by their nickname."
"My apologies, sir."
Another officer interrupted them, and following rapid salutes, Lamperouge signed off on a clipboard and sent him on his way, all while maintaining his breakneck speed. She watched him silently throughout, marveling at the unwavering respect his simple presence elicited. He was so different from the way he presented himself at the Fadimans or even at Ashford. Like Kaguya, he wore many masks perfectly, without a single chink.
Every rumor and legend sprung from a seed of truth, and they spread the fastest when watered with honesty. Lamperouge, only nineteen, had secured the loyalty of his division so tightly that one of his officers executed his own grandfather without him having to give the order.
She already knew he was dangerous, but this was something far greater than what she initially suspected. He would be the most dangerous enemy, and an even more dangerous ally. Without a doubt, if she killed him now, she would strike a crippling blow against Britannia. In the coming years, he would only grow stronger.
A passing officer, his accent so thick that it hurt, greeted Lamperouge warmly. They were really all Numbers here, and they even filled the officer ranks.
When faced with a superior enemy, the first step was to acknowledge them as such and give them the respect they deserved. Kallen had already missed her opportunity, not having recognized him as a lion during his masquerade as a common house cat.
"Lelouch," Fadiman interrupted, running up to their side. He shoved a dense packet at him. "I need you to sign that off. I can take care of the rear guard—"
"No. I need you there."
"Lelouch—"
"Colonel Lopez can hold things down."
"He does not have the experience—"
"He will learn on the job, like everyone does. Most of what he has to deal with is training anyway, and I am not dragging the greenhorns into a delicate situation. You and the Sergeant Major are going to be on that flight."
"I am assigning Major Palmer to him then."
Lamperouge abruptly stopped. Voice frigid, he asked, "Why?'
"You know why." Fadiman gave him a long look. "It is a delicate situation. Or have you changed your mind? Because we really should do that before—"
Hurrying off again, Lamperouge growled. "Not now."
"Then when?"
"Hopefully never."
"That is unfeasible."
Lamperouge ignored him and flipped through the report. "Hold that." He dumped the packet into Kallen's hands, fished out a pen from his pockets, and picked it up again to mark it. "I want the medical supplies prioritized. Knowing our luck, we will be getting ten year old supplies."
"Do you have to—" Fadiman groaned.
"Use the printer in my office," Lamperouge absently said, his hands moving through a flurry of signs as an older man approached. "I need the intelligence reports before we leave—"
"Those take—"
"Figure it out. Tell Malfoire to get off his ass and actually be of some use for once. Bribe him with some tea from your office if he is too obstinate." He pocketed the pen and shoved the packet at him. "Take these to Pablo. Check in with him regarding the logistics. I want to know what the situation with air control is. Also, I need an open seat."
"I am too busy to play messenger. Tell him yourself. You—" Fadiman cut himself off, his head tilting her way, the first acknowledgment of her existence in their entire conversation. His hands formed the strange yet eerily familiar signs. A few were familiar to her training, but most were utterly alien. And there was a sign for home. One for friend. Another for trust... What? And that was for idiot, followed by one for health. "This is not the time!"
"I agree," Lamperouge snapped. His phone rang, and he pulled it out; the same one he had received the panic-inducing call from his father during the assasination attempt. "And that is twenty-minutes after the general said he would call. Punctuality," he cut himself off with a shake of his head. "Go watch the puppy, Roy."
His accent shifted as he stepped away, barking reprimands into the phone. Clearly, that wasn't his father on the line this time.
Fadiman raised an eyebrow at her. "And what does the general want from you?"
"He didn't say, sir," she answered, shifting nervously.
Rolling his eyes, Fadiman turned to stare at where Lamperouge was taking his call.
"I thought he was your subordinate, sir?" Kallen asked, finding the courage to break the uncomfortable tense silence. "You were leading during the assasination attempt."
"It's bad form to let your commanding officer get shot." He huffed. "At least, you seem to have acquired some manners."
"I apologize for my previous breach in decorum," she said and barely stopped herself from bowing in apology.
His eyes narrowed. "You know Japanese?"
"Yes, sir?" she admitted truthfully, not understanding the relevance.
The tense line in his shoulders eased. "Do you keep track of that side of your family?"
"No, sir. I don't associate with the Elevens," she answered. The further they were from her, the safer they were, and Kallen couldn't share what she didn't know if she was captured. Were they suspicious because of her heritage? Yet, Fadiman, from a staunchly pro-Britannia family, didn't use their official designation.
"No idea at all?"
"No, sir," she answered, her heart speeding up. One of Gosling's subordinates killed their family to prove his loyalty; she prayed they would not make her do the same.
Lamperouge returned, scowling. "Get me Lieutenant Colonel Tamay and—" He groaned. "Just make sure he is on the plane. I will figure out whatever paper bullshit is necessary."
"Yes, sir." Fadiman saluted, walked a few paces, and broke into a sprint.
Finally taking a breather, Lamperouge leaned against a tree and observed her intently. Her stomach squirmed, as his gaze dissected her, judging her, determining her loyalties. That was what he was truly after, and she couldn't let him doubt for even a moment. If only she hadn't fumbled with Empress Marianne. No, if only she hadn't snapped at him back when they first met.
She still remembered how he executed the would-be-assassin the moment he had been of no use.
"Sir." When he didn't stop her, Kallen continued. "I want to apologize for my attitude when we first met. I judged you based on rumors instead of your actions, and later, I was... not in the right headspace. Your actions ensured my safety, whereas I merely endangered the group. I kindly ask that you forgive my transgression and allow us to put the past behind us."
"You actually mean it this time," he noted.
Yes, she realized, she did. She needed at minimum a professional relationship
"It is an honor to make your acquaintance, my lady," he continued, voice teasing, yet continued to slouch against the tree. "Lelouch Lamperouge."
She bowed in greeting and let the insult slide over her. He was born a commoner. Perhaps he didn't know. "Kallen Stadtfeld, and the honor is all mine."
"Your hands are too far to the front," he noted. "You're not Japanese anymore."
Her mouth dried, and she repeated the bow, adjusting her hands appropriately. While she burned at the deliberate humiliation, she held the bow as he pushed himself off the tree and delicately adjusted her hands, elbows, and shoulders. Step one was to placate him, like the predator he was. His brief touches burned.
"Better, Stadtfeld," he praised. She slowly straightened and met his eyes which hinted at nothing. "You have potential and thus will be held to an exceptionally high standard. Unlike Weinberg, you don't have a powerful family name to fall back onto and excuse your breach of etiquette."
"Understood, sir," she answered. At least he acknowledged her skill, which boded well for her next step—be helpful to endear herself.
"You are friends with my sister."
A long awkward silence stretched between them, and she realized he wanted an answer. "Yes, sir."
"What has she been doing? Or rather, what do you suspect her of?"
"Sir?" Her heart pounded in her ears. Had Nunnally committed treason in her absence? Was she now under suspicion for having been close to her? Kallen had barely been involved.
"You heard the question."
"I don't understand why you are asking," she tried. Nunnally was his sister; they were clearly devoted to another, so why was he asking?
"You answer to me, Stadtfeld," he reminded her. This was a test. "What do you suspect my sister of?"
Treason.
"Let me jog your memory. When I visited, there were pamphlets hastily hidden. What were those about?"
He hadn't missed a thing. She was definitely under suspicion. A loyal Britannian would sell her out, right? But it was Nunnally, and Kallen had no idea what he would do with that information.
"You were with her when she visited Brian."
"How do you know that?" Kallen asked.
He smiled cruelly. "You just did, and clearly it's something more than cuisine as my sister tried to explain."
Kallen took a step back and clenched her fists. She had known people were going to get hurt; she hadn't expected it to come so soon. Between her cover and a schoolgirl, she had to prioritize the mission. But still— "I think it would be better for everyone involved, sir, if we leave the matter alone."
"Answer the question."
She almost answered on instinct. Something in his tone demanded absolute obedience; his patience had come to an end.
"They were—"
Why was it so hard to betray them? Her mission came first, even if she enjoyed their chats and had wondered about bringing Nunnally in because she knew how corrupt Britannia was. Nunnally loved her brother; she had to believe that he wouldn't harm her.
She swallowed and bit her lip nervously. His eyes narrowed impatiently with a hint of surprise at her continued disobedience. He probably never had anyone stand up to him; he was their near mythical commander.
And his eyebrows were slowly rising... What did that mean? She was going to be tried for treason and executed. Her entire family would die. Kaguya would be immeasurably disappointed at the loss of a well placed agent.
"What will you do with that information?' she asked finally.
"It's not your place to question orders, Stadtfeld." He held her gaze for a moment, long enough for a shiver to climb down her back, too short to respond. "She is my sister, Stadtfeld."
"I know," she whispered.
He scanned the area slowly; they were alone with soldiers rushing in the distance, but no one close enough to hear.
"I can't protect my sister from what I don't know," he admitted and his shoulders sank, the cloak of authority sliding off like him like a shimmering waterfall. "It's only a matter of time until official intelligence channels discover what she's engaged in." His face twisted. "I would rather not have her listen to all her friend's deaths. So. What. Is. She. Doing?"
She had already pushed back too far. They definitely saw her as a spy now. Why was it so hard to be the proper Britannian noble... especially in his presence. With Fadiman, the mask of a pampered, spoiled noble brat hadn't slipped. This was the second time with Lamperouge. Just like during the assassination attempt. Everything about him pissed her off; he saw through her too easily.
So, she bowed her head and told the unfortunate tale of Andrew Cameron. Of finding him dead in the bathtub in an apparent suicide, and how Nunnally blamed... Prince Clovis. How she had gone to Brian to ask for a favor to prove it and gambled on her chess skills to pay for it. How she knew that the Student Council was still fighting for justice. How they were swept up in a noble cause, a Britannian cause.
"Thank you," he said as she finished. His brow was furrowed, and he stared off slightly in the distance. "Follow me."
They returned to her training platoon, and she watched them from afar, waiting for him to dismiss her. Perhaps, he wanted to ask a follow-up question.
"Next time, remember that I'm your commander. Your loyalty belongs to me, not my sister."
No, it belonged to Kaguya. The one who fought for Japan and its people. Who had a chance to change her people's situation for the better.
Kaguya who had already sacrificed her soul for the cause. If Japan ever returned, there would be no place for her. That was the sacrifice she made and demanded of Kallen. Until she called on her, Kallen had to gain their trust and follow every order, regardless of how despicable.
"Saachi Chandra." He nodded to the young Indian girl, currently helping to load the trucks. "Intelligence discovered she was a spy for the Chinese Federation early this morning. Unlike her cousin, she won't be absconding with state secrets."
"What?" Her heart sank. Another test.
Kaguya had done the same. Bid her to commit outright treason through an elaborate ruse with one of her agents, and Kallen, so eager to be Japanese, had. Then the men in fine suits had come knocking, and she panicked at the thought they knew. They kept asking her, and then they told her they knew, and said they could offer clemency because she was young. She simply had to sell out who had led her on this foolish endeavor. Kallen refused. They left. The next day, there was a letter in her room with no hint how it got there.
The first thing Kaguya did was to sear into her brain to not fall for such blatantly obvious treasonous traps.
"First, my sister. Now, her. You certainly keep interesting company."
He dismissed her with her instructions, and she jogged back to her group, barely able to muster a tight smile.
"Was that Gosling?" Saachi asked, craning her head, even if he was already long gone. "They never said he was so young. What did he want?"
"To remind me of my place," she spat. She couldn't even say anything to warn the girl of her execution because that was inevitably part of the test too.
"Hmm... Was he as good looking up close?"
Kallen burned.
Saachi's grin widened, and she poked her in the cheeks. "Someone has a crush!"
Around her, the rest of the platoon laughed.
"I do not," Kallen hissed.
"Not a cradle robber myself," one of the others said. "But he's got what, like five years on you two girls? I can see the appeal. But really, you should see the guy in the other platoon. He was running bags back and forth like a machine."
"Two years," Kallen grumbled.
"The one with the nice ass? Gosling is a twig. He needs like ten hearty meals to put some meat on those bones."
Kallen scowled and shoved Saachi roughly aside to fix the bindings. Seriously? The division was being deployed around their ears, and they were debating who they would bang.
"Got to say, I love a man in a uniform. Now our wonderful XO... Even rich to sweeten the deal."
"He got married."
"But he's hot!"
"One night stand, at best. Otherwise, Brit stench rubs off on you."
"Like anyone would ever tell, with how often you roll in the mud!"
Ibbie dropped a hand on Kallen's shoulder. "The little noble is a prude!"
"Your Emperor literally has 108 wives. I bet they get to wild shit up in the bedroom."
"Am not," Kallen muttered. Kaguya had given her seduction lessons. She knew how to kiss a boy...
"Turn any redder and we need to douse you in water," Ibbie retorted. "So then, what do you like about him?"
Saachi laughed. "It's his eyes, isn't it? What color are they?"
"Purple?" Kallen asked. Ruthless, unforgiving, powerful. Nunnally's were also purple, but the shade was different. Her eyes were always unfocused and, at times, unnerving. His never missed anything.
"What about his body?" Saachie teased mischievously. "Do you want those hands running down your side? Or maybe even somewhere more... scandalous."
The memory of his hands brushed over her own to correct her posture. He pushed against her shoulders so she would straighten her spine and drop an inch lower. He guided her elbows to the side. Not a single touch lingered, and the brief moment of contact was over as he stepped back with perfect professionalism.
"Wait a second, did you do something?" Saachi whispered loudly.
The entire platoon fell silent, and twenty pairs of eyes turned on her. Kallen hunched her shoulders defensively.
"Something totally did," Ibbie declared in awe. "What did you do? How do you even know each other?'
Under the expectant weight of their stares, Kallen crumbled, explaining the utterly disastrous first meeting.
Saachi swooned. "He was your knight in shining armor. He valiantly risked his life for yours."
"We are not—" Kallen protested, merely encouraging them. "It was professional! He asked some questions."
"Determining her eligibility."
"If anyone can conquer a noble, it would be him."
Oh for fuck's sake, he was a noble! His entire mannerism screamed it, and he would never have been elevated to such a high rank as a commoner. It explained everything about Nunnally's peculiar mannerisms and how she and Euphie were so close. Everything except why two nobles were running around as commoners and so committed to their pretense that Lamperouge voluntarily braved enlistment... and then somehow in a span of seven years, climbed to the rank of Major General.
He was a masterful liar.
The Drill Sergeant cleared his throat, looming over them. "If Stadtfeld managed to seduce Gosling, she performed a miracle and is a fucking Helen of Troy. So shut your mouth, Gosling did nothing untoward. He wouldn't know what sex is if it hit over the head with a billboard."
The students at Ashford Academy would be delighted to confirm he was a virgin...
"Now—" The Drill Sergeant glowered and bellowed, "Stop dawdling and get back to work! And Stadtfeld! Ten laps for trying to seduce the commander!"
Cursing Lamperouge under her breath she ran off. Why did no one believe her? By the time she returned, Saachi was nowhere to be found.
Worldbuilding Thoughts
- Akito's timeline is really wonky, so I'm moving Leila's bday to early in the year instead of November. Mostly because I imagined her slightly younger than Lelouch, but her birthday would make her a month older?
- Lelouch picked up a lot of hand signals from Tohdoh and then made his own, which he taught to Suzaku (and Kaguya learned them secondhand). But as they weren't the most effective signals, they morphed into something more streamlined. Kallen, as a result, is very confused.
- Canon's EU's ineffectiveness is extremely annoying, as they really should have had more of a bite instead of losing Portugal and Spain between seasons (and like all of Africa before that). This isn't the ideal, but I am paying homage to it. Except here, the EU isn't being criminally stupid; they have a purposeful plan. If you don't care about the human cost, letting Britannia weaken itself by throwing your former colonies at it, isn't that bad of an idea.
Author's Note:
Oh, Kallen. You don't even know the half of it.
I promise that next chapter will include Lelouch setting foot in Area Eleven. It's right there in the scene. And a particular fan favorite gets their own pov. I'll leave you to guess whom. (It's not Kaguya, alas). Meanwhile, this chapter had one reveal, so which one is everyone looking forward to?
Happy Holidays everyone! Spread the cheer through a review. :)
Chat with me on the discord: discord . gg / uSBegVj
Thank you x1tears1X on FFN and dark for your help with betaing.