Ciaran wasn't sure what woke him up the morning following his return back to Viceroy's Palace. It might have been the soft warmth from the sun coming in through the window and curtains, bathing him in the morning light. It might have been the sound of several of the Palace staff walking around outside his room, their voices rising in gentle pitch as they conversed to each other before receding in to the distance.

Or, as he blinked the sleep out of his eyes and lifted his head up from the pillow, it might have been the small but slowly spreading puddle of drool coming from the mouth of the still sleeping Dorothea Ernst, the famed and feared Knight of Four. Looking down past her head, Ciaran saw that she had wrapped an arm across the lower part of his chest and was hugging his entire left side.

'I must be a heavier sleeper than I thought.' Ciaran thought to himself, as he looked at how tightly Dorothea had wrapped herself around him. Although from the state of the blankets, her move to hold him had been quite recent. Either that or neither person had moved much during the night.

He had to admit to himself, seeing Dorothea in this state in the morning was certainly something else entirely. Even though he knew that she was a friendly person, but when Ciaran saw her dressed in the pristine white and blue uniform, she seemed to project a sort of aura that made her a bit fierce. He'd never say anything about it in case he offended her, but to him, it was there,

Looking down at her resting on his chest now though, she looked so much softer now. Gone were the hard lines her Knightly outfit gave her and gone was the fierce aura. In her white and blue pyjamas and with her hair down, a soft smile on her face as she hugged him like an oversized teddy bear, she looked totally at ease... and quite cute, if his opinion was asked.

The feeling of her drool coming through his t-shirt on to his skin made Ciaran grimace. Reaching over as carefully as he could, he used one of his fingers to gently brush under the side of Dorothea's mouth before gently moving it up to wipe at the string of drool coming from her mouth.

A soft murmur came from the sleeping Knight, prompting Ciaran to remove his hand quickly. Slowly, Dorothea's eyes opened, blinking out the built-up sleep. Moving slowly, she moved her head around a bit, taking in her surroundings.

"Good morning." Ciaran said softly, making Dorothea turn her head to look at him. As soon she looked at him, her eyes opened wider before she looked at what she was using as a pillow.

"Oh no..." Dorothea began before shooting upright, pushing the covers off both of them.

Ciaran tried to suppress the smile that came to his face as he watched Dorothea's cheeks brighten slightly before her hands gripped tightly on to the t-shirt.

"Dorothea?" Ciaran asked, pushing himself to sit upright as he watched Dorothea's arms begin to tremble.

"I... I..." The copper-skinned woman began before she made to move out of the bed, frantically looking around for her dressing gown. "I should go now."

"Dorothea, wait!" Ciaran said, taking hold of her arm before she climbed out of the bed. The woman whipped her head around to look at him, her emerald eyes wide. "Wait. Wh-what's going on?"

Dorothea's mouth moved up and down slightly as she look at him, trying to formulate an answer. Her look of fear fell away as she turned her head to look away from him and Ciaran thought he saw... guilt on her face?

"I'm sorry, Ciaran. I did something I shouldn't have." Came Dorothea's reply in a low voice. From his angle, the only thing Ciaran could see of her face was obscured by her long hair, but he could see that her jaw was set tight. What he did notice though was that her hands, hands which she had not removed from her chest the whole time and which were still gripping his shirt tightly, were beginning to tremble ever so slightly.

After what seemed like an age, Ciaran reached forward and gently pried one of her hands off his chest before taking it in to his own, enclosing his other hand over the top of it.

"Dorothea." He said soothingly, attempting to calm her as best he could. "You and I are friends. Now, you know that you can tell me anything you need to tell me, and I will not judge you."

His words seemed to have the desired affect as, feeling it through his own hands, Dorothea's trembling slowed until it stopped altogether before she turned to look at him. It made Ciaran's heart flutter to see her smiling, but he could see the barest hints of tears in her eyes as she looked at him.

"Thank you, Ciaran." She said, smiling before the smile faded slightly. "There is something I need to tell you. But now is not the right time or place."

Shifting himself, Ciaran sat up straighter as Dorothea continued speaking.

"I do want to tell you, I really do. But what I have to say, I... I'm worried it might change things between us."

Rubbing his palm over the top of her hand, Ciaran nodded his head. "I understand."

The agreement seemed to calm Dorothea down as her smile returned. The ticking of the clock filled the room, the former tension being replaced by a new source of tension as the couple's eyes darted around the room, not settling on the other.

"Umm... Ciaran?" Dorothea asked, breaking the silence. "Can I have my hand back? I'd like to have a shower before breakfast."

"Huh... what?" The younger man replied, looking at her in confusion before looking down to see his hands surrounding hers, before his face went several shades of red at once. "Oh, right. Sorry."

Ciaran released his grip on her hand as Dorothea removed it, letting her soft skin slide over his palm, before he rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment.

Not saying another word, the Lady Knight of Four stood up from the bed to step on to the carpet. Spying her dressing gown on a nearby chair, Dorothea moved towards it as Ciaran climbed off of the bed to stand up.

"So..." He began, watching as Dorothea pulled the garment closed before cinching the robes closed. "When do you want to talk about... the thing?"

"Sometime this evening, if that's all right." Dorothea replied, a small smile on her face. "I think I've got your number so I'll send you a message when I'm ready. Sound fair?"

"Whatever makes you feel comfortable, Dorothea." Ciaran replied.

Without another word, the Knight of Four move towards the door, putting her feet in to a pair of slippers she had cloistered beside the door. Sensing there wasn't much left to be said, Ciaran moved towards the bathroom as he heard the door open.

"Ciaran?" Dorothea called to him, her soft voice making him turn around to look at her.

"Yeah?"

The Lady Knight looked down at the floor for a few seconds before raising her head to look at him, the faintest hint of a blush on her face again. "You were a good pillow."

Before the young man could reply, Dorothea slipped out of the room, closing the door softly behind her, leaving Ciaran standing in the room in stunned silence.

"Okay, then." He said to no-one in particular, before the early morning urge to urinate overrode anything else his brain would try to tell him. Moving in to the adjoining bathroom, Ciaran began his morning routine of using the toilet, before brushing his teeth. He was part through contemplating whether to have a shower or not, his t-shirt hanging in his hands, when he heard his bedroom door open and shut again.

"Ciaran, are you in the bathroom?" Cornelia's voice came through the door.

"Yeah. Hang on." Ciaran replied, putting his t-shirt back on before exiting the bathroom. Sure enough, on the other side of the door and standing by his bed, was Cornelia, dressed in her usual attire consisting of a burgundy tunic, set with gold inlay over her chest and stomach, coupled with a pair of burgundy trousers tucked in to a pair of white riding boots. She had forgone her customary, white cape but the outfit was still completed by her usual white cravat.

"What's up?" He asked, wondering why Cornelia was in his room this early in the morning.

"I just passed Dorothea in the hall. She was wearing a dressing gown and pyjamas and she looked a little bit upset."

That was why.

"Yeah." Ciaran began, feeling very unsure about how to phrase what he was going to say. "Um... Dorothea came in to my room last night-"

"She did what?" Cornelia asked, looking incredibly shocked at the news.

"In her defence," The young man replied, putting his hands up in a placating gesture. "In her defence, we both wore pyjamas and the only reason she was here in the first place was because she... she was worried about how I reacted to the news about what happened at Narita with the Purists."

"So she slept with you?" Cornelia asked, obviously sceptical about the whole thing.

"Yes." He replied, realising with a small hint of finality that what he said did not sound plausible.

"What's the stain on your t-shirt?" The Second Princess asked, pointing at the spot on his clothing.

Looking down, Ciaran pursed his lips as he tried to figure out the best way to reply to her question.

"Dorothea ended up using me as a pillow. And, as it turns out... she drools."

Cornelia looked at the young man's chest, specifically the damp spot on his clothing, for a few seconds before her look of scrutiny turned to one of mirth, a smile creeping across her face.

"Okay, I believe you. I think I've gotten to know you well enough over the last month and I doubt you'd lie about something like that, Ciaran."

"Good to know." The young man said in reply as he looked the Princess, glad that he got Dorothea out of any potential trouble. "So was there anything else you wanted to talk about?"

The happiness fell from his face though as he saw Cornelia put her hands on to her hips, her face taking on a serious mask again as she looked at him before she spoke.

"Actually, there was something I wanted to talk to you about. I would have liked to have discussed it with you last night, but now seems as good a time as any."

Ciaran cocked one of his eyebrows at Cornelia as she continued speaking.

"I know you said that you were willing to give me some insight in to your worlds military strategies and tactics, and I was thinking that, even after you told us them, we'd still be out of the loop on what to do."

"Okay..." Ciaran said, unknowingly interrupting the Princess, who carried on regardless.

"So, I have decided that two things will happen: the first being that you will give me, Darlton and Guilford as presentation on what you know, and secondly, you will be given command of your own specialist unit to carry out the tactics you will have told us."

Ciaran couldn't believe his ears.

"My... my own unit?" He asked, dumbfounded.

Cornelia nodded her head. "It won't be anything large. You'll be in charge of twenty-seven men, twenty-eight including you, with an equal number of Knightmares."

"But... but what about what happened at Narita?" Ciaran asked, starting to sound panicked.

"Ciaran, I said this before. You were not responsible for their deaths."

"But I might as well have been!" The young man retorted, his voice coming out much louder and angrier then he intended it to. The Princess was certainly taken aback by his shift in tone but she recovered quickly as, moving forward, she put a hand on Ciaran's shoulder and guided him down to sit on the bed before joining him.

"I know how you feel. I've been in the same situation you have. Not just me, but Darlton too. All good commanders will have been in this situation where they feel unworthy of commanding troops because of one bad mission. It happens."

Ciaran looked at Cornelia as she continued speaking.

"But we can't let that doubt consume us. A commander who values his soldiers and is valued by them too is a blessing that any army should have. Yet at the same time, we must be willing to command the thing we value to fight and die. It's the curse of being a good officer."

"I sense this is coming from personal experience?" Ciaran said with a wry smile.

The Princess nodded her head solemnly. "My first action as an officer was in Area 9..." She paused as she looked at the look of confusion on Ciaran's face. "What do you call the island near Australia? The big one."

"Oh, New Zealand." Ciaran said, realising what she was talking about.

"Yeah, there. Anyway, that was my first combat action with a platoon of my own. Royal Panzer Infantry, but this was before the One Month War, so not all of us were given Glasgows."

Ciaran couldn't help but wince at her pronunciation of Glasgow. 'gow' instead of 'go' but he ignored it as she continued her story, turning her head to look at her boots.

"I and a few of the other officers were lucky. We got given Glasgows, but the rest of the platoon were given APCs. We had to assault an enemy held position in the mountains. How well do you think armoured units to against an entrenched enemy in mountains, Ciaran?"

"If I remember my reading," Ciaran replied, "It was never nice."

Cornelia nodded her head solemnly. "Our intelligence reports were faulty, so we ended up attacking an area we thought was lightly defended but the enemy was there in force. We got pushed back, but not before I lost nearly two thirds of my platoon. Do you know what happens when an armoured vehicle brews up?"

"Yeah. I know." Ciaran said solemnly, knowing what Cornelia was referring to.

'Brewing up' was the most feared aspect of being in an armoured crew. Simply put, it was an euphemism for a catastrophic kill when enemy fire hit a tank or armoured vehicle in such a manner that the tank's engine would detonate in such a way that the crew compartments of the tank were engulfed in flames. This would then result in the ammunition exploding, but not before the crew inside had burned to death.

It was awful to think of it happening to tanks, but to armoured personnel carriers? It just didn't bare thinking about.

"I was despondent." Cornelia continued. "Our intelligence had failed us horribly, but I viewed the failure as my own. Even after we completed the invasion and brought Area 9 in to the Empire, I was still hated myself for what happened."

"How many years ago was this?" Ciaran asked.

"It was three years before the One Month War, so ten years ago."

"And now?"

"Now what?" Cornelia asked, looking up at him.

"Now how do you feel about it?"

The Second Princess was silent for a moment as she looked at him before looking past him at a spot on the wall only she could see.

"I still see it as a failure. But I think I can honestly say that my victories on the battlefield outweigh the failures."

Ciaran nodded at her words. "While my track record is one win, one loss and one draw."

Cornelia let out a small chuckle at his phrasing. "A good record to start with if you don't mind me saying."

The young man joined in with the Princess' mirth, chuckling at her words.

"If you want," Cornelia said, her tone a lot softer now. "We can start you off with a single squad instead of a platoon. You can choose your own subordinate officer and you'll be getting to pick which regiment you can transfer the squad from. Sound fair?"

Ciaran nodded in agreement. "Okay."

Cornelia put her hand on his leg, giving it a soft pat as she smiled at him before standing up.

"That was all I needed to talk to you about. Come join us for breakfast when you're ready. Make sure you dress in your uniform."

"My uniform?" Ciaran asked, looking at her in confusion.

Cornelia snapped her fingers in realization before hitting her forehead lightly with two of her fingers. "Ah, that was the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. You, myself, Guilford and Darlton are going to pay a visit to the Camelot group. We're going to see a man about a new Knightmare."

"Ah, awesome." Ciaran said, a smile coming to his face before he remembered what Dorothea said to him.

"Sometime this evening, if that's all right."

"Um... how long do you think we'll be?" He asked hesitantly.

Cornelia shrugged. "Shouldn't be more than a couple of hours. Why?"

The young man wasn't sure what to say. She hadn't given any hints, but to him, Dorothea had sounded like she had wanted her meeting with him to be secret.

"Well... it's just that I'd like to get started on the new squad rota as quickly as possible. That's all."

The older woman looked at him for a few seconds, making Ciaran resist the temptation to swallow in fear, although that feeling quickly passed as Cornelia nodded her head.

"Fair enough. Now, as I said: get changed in to your uniform, come down for breakfast, then we can get ready to show you your new toy."

Nodding his head, Ciaran watched as Cornelia turned around and headed out of the room. When the door was shut and he was certain that no-one else would barge in ('seriously, did these people not know how to knock?' He thought to himself), he let himself drop backwards on to the bed, bring his hands up to cover his eyes as he let out an exasperated sigh.

Out of all of the days he had been in Area 11, this day was certainly shaping up to be the most trying days of his time here.

Sitting at one of the large computer banks in the area of the Tokyo Settlement University specially set aside for the Britannian Special Research Division, or Camelot as it was colloquially known, Cécile was not in the best of moods. Outwardly, she didn't show it. She had admit that she had become a bit of savant at hiding her more serious emotions. To the other members of Camelot, she was the perfect image of calm, although inwardly she was ready to snap at anything.

Around her, the various technicians went about their work, moving underneath the gantries that surrounded the kneeling forms of the Lancelot and it's sister unit, the Lancelot Club, two white Knightmares taking up a good portion of the space in the admittedly large room. The cables that would not have normally connected them to their external power supplies had been removed and the two machines just sat there, waiting silently.

Looking at the clock display in the corner of the computer screen, she inwardly scowled at the time.

10:22

They had Viceroy Cornelia's command staff coming in just over half an hour. And, as usual, Lloyd was doing nothing about it! Looking round past her computer screen, she could see the lavender haired scientist typing away at his own computer terminal.

"Lloyd, is everything set for the Viceroy's arrival?" She asked, expecting the man's trademark, flippant, non-responsive answer.

"Yes, yes, Cécile. Everything is ready." Lloyd replied in his usual sing-song voice.

That was not the answer she expected to hear.

"The information binders are all prepared?"

Lloyd put his hand on to a stack of beige binders near the side of his computer.

"The test date too?"

"All ready to go."

"What about the projected expenses for the next year?"

Lloyd held up a couple of sheets of paper held together by a paper-clip for Cécile to see.

The indigo-haired woman was stunned. "Who are you and what you done with Lloyd?"

The scientist looked at her in shock before he burst in to laughter. "How can you say that, Cécile?"

"Lloyd, as long as I've known you," Cécile said in exasperation, "You have never put as much effort in to... well, in to anything as you have now."

The scientist shrugged. "Well... it's just one of those days."

Cécile nodded at his logic before returning to her computer screen. She began typing away at her keyboard, working on various sets of numbers to do with power input and output for the Lancelot and it's sister unit before she stopped, her hands hovering over the keyboard.

"Where's Suzaku?"

Looking around the area, both adults realised that they were missing the pilot for the Lancelot.

"I think he's at school, Major." One of the tech crews said, looking up from their work.

"Doesn't he know we've got an inspection today?" Cécile asked, standing up from her chair to find her phone. She needed to contact the teenager as quickly as possible.

"I'm here, everyone." The voice of the teenager in question called out as he entered through a pair of elevator doors, causing Cécile to turn around. Looking at the Japanese youth, dressed in a smart black jacket with gold trim and black trousers, complete with a small, brown briefcase, he looked like the textbook image of a student in a Britannian high school. "Please don't tell me I'm late."

Cécile couldn't help but smile when Suzaku walked towards the two Britannians as Lloyd spoke up.

"If you were late, you'd know about it." The scientist said with a grin as he stood up from his chair.

"We've got just over half an hour until the Viceroy and her staff arrive, Suzaku." Cécile said, giving Lloyd the stink-eye out the corner of her gaze.

Nodding his head, the Japanese youth moved towards them, setting his briefcase on top of a low table.

"Do remember what you have to do for this inspection, Suzaku?" The woman asked.

"I do, Miss Cécile. I'm to get dressed in to my uniform, stand near the Lancelot and to keep quiet unless spoken to." Suzaku said matter-of-factly, which made Cécile frown. Seeing her discomfort, Suzaku smiled gently. "Don't worry about it. It's basically the same thing I was trained to do when I was in the infantry, Miss Cécile, and also what my father taught me do to."

The woman nodded her head, but she still didn't like seeing Suzaku take such things so easily. She wasn't sure whether it was because of his upbringing, his training, or just both, but seeing him act so subservient didn't sit well with Cécile.

Lloyd however was oblivious her feelings.

"Splendid. Best to get changed in to your pilot suit and wait in the loading area, Suzaku. The Viceroy doesn't think that highly of you already as it is."

"Do you think he could be removed as the pilot of the Lancelot?" Cécile asked in shock as she spun to look at him, prompting Lloyd to shrug.

"We're officially under the command of the Second Princes, Schneizel, but I wouldn't put it past her to have him removed if she wanted to. Especially after what happened at Narita."

Cécile winced at the name of the battle. The day had started out so well for them, at least for the soldiers anyway. They had nearly got theirs hands on the JLF, had nearly achieved victory. But then the Black Knights had appeared. And by bringing down the mountainside of all things.

Lloyd has sussed it quickly. They had somehow gotten their hands on Rakshata's Radiant Wave Technology to superheat the water veins in the mountain which caused a landslide which swept away so many Britannian units as well as elements of the JLF.

Things then went from bad to worse shortly afterwards. The Black Knights attacked en masse, cutting off the Viceroy's personal guard and surrounding her while at the same time, the JLF regrouped for a counter-attack. With Cornelia cut off and the Black Knights set ready to capture her, it seemed like they had lost.

Luckily, Euphemia had authorized the Lancelot to mobilise and rescue Cornelia, the white Knightmare fighting in personal combat against the Black Knight's strange red frame, even managing to push it back over a cliff edge with it's VARIS rifle, allowing the Viceroy to escape and forcing Zero to try and escape.

It was there things went wrong again. None of them had seen it happen, but it seemed that Suzaku had cornered Zero at a point in the mountain, then he had just... lost it. He began screaming hysterically, about what no-one really knew. When the military units sent to apprehend Zero arrived at the designated position, they found only the terrorist's wrecked Knightmare and the Lancelot and it's pilot frozen in place. Suzaku was unresponsive the whole time, leaving the tech crews little choice but to move the Lancelot by heavy lift gear and even then, Suzaku couldn't be removed from the Lancelot's pilot block. They had to end up putting him under to make him release his death-grip on the control sticks.

Since then, Suzaku hadn't really responded to any questioning and had been solely focused on his work with the Lancelot.

"Right then." Lloyd said, turning the mood in the room a complete 180, thankfully, as he moved close to the young man. "You go and get changed. We'll get this done quickly and painlessly."

Suzaku looked ready to protest before Lloyd began pushing him towards the changing room. Realising that he wouldn't be able to protest, the Japanese youth relented and quickly walked towards the room indicated.

When he was out of earshot, Lloyd turned to look at Cécile, the same, persistent smile still on his face, but this time, it lacked any humour in it.

"You're not going to get him to talk about what happened. You do know that, right?"

Cécile dropped her eyes slightly before snapping them up to look at the man before her.

"It's not healthy if he keeps it bottled up, though."

"True, true." Lloyd said with a shrug. "But the simple matter is that he won't talk it about. I doubt even you ordering him to tell you could help him."

Cécile looked sullen at Lloyd's words.

"He's a hard headed boy, and nothing that you do or say will change his mind. You might as well stop trying to make him pour out his feelings."

The woman didn't say anything in reply before she moved back to her computer screen. Lloyd, for all of his general bluntness, was right. Suzaku was certainly not the most forthright person at the best of times. Even talking about school-work outside of homework was difficult at times, so Cécile knew that trying to get him to say something about emotional trauma would be definite uphill struggle.

"Besides!" Lloyd said as he returned to his own computer. "It doesn't seem to be affecting him in the slightest. None of his tests showed any abnormalities, so we should just let him live with whatever demons are haunting him."

Cécile was torn between rolling her eyes at Lloyd's flippant remark or to throw something at him. She settled on the former, purely to avoid getting in trouble with the Viceroy when she arrived. Stifling her disgust at the man's remark, she settled in once again to working on her computer screen, getting the last of the data packets ready for transfer back to the Homeland.

A few short minutes later, Suzaku arrived back in the room, dressed in his dark orange uniform and wearing a dark blue beret on his head.

"You look very smart, Suzaku." Cécile said, turning to look at the Japanese youth.

Before he had a chance to reply, a loud buzzer went off near the elevator at the wall, signalling that someone was trying to contact them over the intercom.

"Professor Asplund?" Came a voice tinged with a bit of panic and static. "Are you there?"

Walking over jauntily to the intercom, Lloyd pushed the button to talk in to it. "What's the matter now?"

"Uh, sir... the Viceroy's party has arrived."

"What?!" Lloyd practically screamed in to the intercom, not waiting for an answer as he turned to the room behind him. "The Viceroy's here!"

The room's occupants were stunned at the news, looking at Lloyd for what to do. Cécile looked around the room: the state it was in was certainly clean enough. The masses of paper usually seen around the computers were tidied up and the least important ones had been disposed of. The thick cables connecting the banks of computers together were laying where they always lay. They were too large to shift so the technicians did their best to try and move them in a way that wouldn't result in anyone tripping over them, which practically meant just budging them a little to the side.

Giving everything a cursory glance, it seemed that everything was in order for an inspection.

"All right!" Cécile called out while clapping her hands at the same time, focusing everyone's attention on her. "We've done this before so this nothing new. Places everyone!"

"Yes, ma'am!" The orange suited technicians called out with military precision as they hurriedly moved to stand near their preassigned stations. Suzaku sped off to take his place underneath the gantry in front of the Lancelot, while Lloyd made to stand near the entrance to the elevator, Cécile taking her place beside him.

"Just to check." Cécile said as she looked at Lloyd through the corner of her eye. "Is everything ready?"

"Of course!" Lloyd said, genuinely sounding hurt. "I do want to get this other with as quickly as possible though."

The woman nodded her head. The quicker inspections were done, the better. Although one thing was niggling at her head.

"Lloyd?" The scientist turned his head to look at her. "Did you buzz them back to say that they can come down?"

"... Oops." The man replied before quickly walking over to the intercom. As he pressed the button and spoke in to the receiver, Cécile did the only thing she could do with her frustration as the situation allowed: put her hand to her forehead and roll her eyes.

Standing in the descending elevator, the noise of the steel box moving down to it's destination filled the air. It's four occupants stood in two pairs, Cornelia and Guilford in the front with Darlton and Ciaran bringing up the rear, the Briton carrying a small duffel-bag on his shoulder. The Princess and her Knight were in engaged in quiet discussion over a small data-pad that Guilford held in his hands, leaving the General and the young Captain to talk between the two of them.

Which is what would have happened but this time, the young Briton was unusually quiet and it had Darlton worried.

Looking down to his left, the scarred general saw that Ciaran was looking directly ahead of him at a point on the wall just past Guilford's head. Darlton could see that he wasn't standing still either, gently rocking forwards and backwards on the balls of his heels. He wasn't in pain from his injury. That had been treated well enough and covered by a special plater to match his skin tone, just for appearances sake over anything else.

He had something on his mind, that much was obvious.

Darlton had noticed it at breakfast. Ciaran had been the last to arrive, taking his customary place next to the general, had ordered a small breakfast and had eaten it in silence. The young man had only responded to questions asked of him with short, curt answers. It had only been the actions of Princess Euphemia to get Ciaran to speak more than a handful of words, asking him about how his sleeping arrangements at the Black Knights' hideout compared to those at the palace.

The young man's reaction to a perfectly innocent question certainly was something that Darlton did not expect as, taking a sip from his orange juice, Ciaran ended up spitting his drink back in to the glass violently at the question.

The various reactions around the table were the ones to be expected: Darlton and the two Princess recoiled in surprise as Ciaran finished coughing in to his drink, Guilford and Dorothea looked confused while Nonette just roared with laughter.

"S-sorry about that, everyone." The young man said, coming down from his coughing fit by lightly tapping his chest with his fist. "I think it's just a case of a summer cold."

Reaching over, Darlton softly patted the young man on the back. As he did, he was certain that he saw the young man look quickly around the table, which took the man by surprise.

After a quick change in uniform, which had gotten a bit of splash-back from the drink, and the order to pack his pilot suit in to a bag, the quartet moved to the Palace's garage to take one of the staff-cars to the Tokyo Settlement University, joined by an armoured car to keep the route clear.

"Euphemia will be staying behind with Nonette and Dorothea. One of us needs to remain behind as viceroy after all." Cornelia had said as she climbed in to the car.

The short journey to the university had been silent, very similar to Darlton's first trip to the institute with the young man but this time, there was no question from Ciaran to break the silence. Even the trip in to the elevator was too quiet and it was driving Darlton mad.

Reaching down, the General tapped Ciaran on the shoulder, snapping him from his stupor to look at the larger man in surprise.

"General?"

"What's up with you, Ciaran?" He asked as quietly as he could.

Ciaran looked down at his feet, his mouth closing as a look of consternation came to his face before he spoke.

"I've... Cornelia told me about her idea of giving me my own unit and I'm not feeling one hundred percent about it, sir."

The General nodded his head. It was a classic case of jitters to have something like that put on a person. It was even worse for Ciaran since Darlton knew that the Briton was having to learn all of these things on the fly, unlike the General himself who had benefited from an officer's education.

Moving his arm, Darlton put his hand on to Ciaran's furthest shoulder and pulled the young man towards him. The young man let out a small 'gah' in surprise before he realised that the General was giving him a hug.

"General?" Ciaran asked, looking up at the General in confusion.

"You've done very well these past few weeks, but never feel like you should take these sorts of things on by yourself." Darlton said, his smile scrunching up the large scar on his face. "If you ever need advice, come and ask me. Okay?"

The young man didn't say anything in reply, only letting his look of confusion morph in to a wide smile.

"Advice for anything?"

Darlton nodded his head. "Anything."

He didn't return the hug, but instead, Ciaran lightly rapped his knuckle against the General's chest.

"I'll hold you to that, big guy." The Captain said happily.

Darlton's look morphed in to a confused smile and opened his mouth ready to retort. A quick, sharp cough filled the space, making both Darlton's and Ciaran's heads snap forward to see Guilford and Cornelia looking at them. The former looked confusion while the latter was smiling at the display.

"Oh, don't mind us." The Princess said. "It's a shame we didn't bring Nonette with us though. She'd love this."

The mention of the Knight of Nine reacting to the tender moment between the two men filled both of them with dread as they quickly disengaged from the other, standing back to parade rest, willing the blood to go from their faces as the elevator pinged to announce they had arrived.

With the ease that came from numerous years of practice, the elder trio changed their visages to blank masks as the doors to the elevator opened, revealing the large room used by the Special Research Division. Thankfully, Ciaran was hidden behind Guilford, letting him hide his still reddened face.

Looking past the protrusions on the top of Cornelia's cloak, Darlton could see Professor Asplund and his assistant, Major Croomy, standing a good few paces in front of the elevator exit. Behind them, were their assembled staff, waiting quietly for the inspection to begin.

"Viceroy Cornelia!" The lavender-haired scientist, stepping forward to sweep his arms before him, bowing deeply as the Princess exited the elevator, followed by her entourage. "It is a pleasure to have you here with us."

"I'm here for business, Asplund." Cornelia said flatly, looking at the man with a simple stare. "I'm just here to supervise my brother's pet project, so let's get this over with, shall we?"

Darlton couldn't suppress the smile that came to his face that the eccentric scientist didn't react to Cornelia's disinterest in his greeting, as Professor Asplund began the tour of the facility.

It was the bog-standard inspection for this sort of facility: checking their outputs against their power usage and finances and, most of all, the Lancelot. Even if it's pilot had locked up at Narita and let Zero escape, the Lancelot was still a viable Knightmare frame.

"When can you get the data on the Lancelot to the Homeland?" Cornelia asked, standing looking at the large white and gold machine.

"It's hard to say, your Highness." Cécile said, standing near one of the large computer banks. "Your brother, Prince Schneizel, wants us to gather more data from various combat situations. Factor in the fact that we basically have to ration our sakuradite between the Lancelot and it's sister frame, plus the fact that both units require a substantial energy output to operate, we can't really test it with the standard core luminous."

Darlton nodded his head as Cornelia bent down slightly to get a better look at one of the computer displays. Energy output to input was always a problem if prototype versus mainstream productions. All military vehicles suffered from it: the tank, the fighter yet and of course the Knightmare.

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught the general's attention as he turned to see Ciaran standing near a teenage Japanese boy in a military uniform, Kururugi, Darlton reminded himself. They seemed to be talking to each other as amicably as their respective ranks permitted: a warrant-officer with a captain of the Royal Guard, but it was nice to see the pair chuckle slightly at something Ciaran said, his duffel-bag on the floor by his feet.

He turned back to look at Professor Asplund as he began talking about some new addition to the Lancelot before a loud cry echoed through the room.

"WHAT?!"

All eyes turned to look at where the exclamation came from, which was Ciaran standing in front of a very shocked looking Kururugi.

"What's going on?" Guilford asked the general, who could only shrug in confusion as he listened intently to the young duo's conversation.

"Say that again, Suzaku, because I really hope it was my ears playing a trick on me." Ciaran asked irritably as he crossed his arms across his chest.

"The... the Lancelot doesn't have an ejection system." Kururugi replied, a little bit flustered and shocked by the Briton's outburst before.

Shaking his head in exasperation, Ciaran turned to look at the General and the rest of the Britannians, holding his arms out in a gesture that said 'what the hell?'.

"Did you hear that? The Lancelot's not got an ejection system." The young man said, fixing a stare at the professor as he dropped his arms.

"Is this true, Professor Asplund?" Guilford asked the lanky scientist, who looked quite flustered by the sudden attention. Luckily for the lavender-haired man, it was Cécile again who spoke up.

"My lord, it is true that the Lancelot does lack an ejection system." The indigo-haired woman said in a placating tone. "Regretfully, this is because we were unable to get the components on the Lancelot to a smaller size to facilitate the ejection system."

Ciaran looked ready to speak up again, but Cornelia quickly cut him off.

"General Darlton, I think it best that you take Captain Forsyth to get ready for the next part of the inspection. Professor Asplund, shall we continue?"

The scientist agreed to the request as Darlton walked over to the young man who look quite aggravated.

"No bloody ejection system..." Ciaran muttered as the general walked up next to him. Rolling his eyes, Darlton put a large hand on to the Briton's shoulder.

"There's no helping it now, Ciaran. Come on, let's get ready." Darlton said with a small smile before turning to look at the Japanese warrant-officer next to his young friend. "Warrant-officer Kururugi? Where are the changing rooms?"

"Follow me, sir, I'll show you the way." The Japanese youth said, indicating the two should follow him, which they did after Ciaran picked up the duffel-bag from the floor beside him before the trio walked through a door ensconced in to a nearby wall.

Going through the door, the trio walked in silence for a while until Kururugi showed them to a door marked CHANGING ROOM, which he proceeded to open, allowing the royal guardsman and the general to enter.

"I'll be out here if you need anything, sirs." Kururugi said, nodding his head in a salute before he exited the room, letting the door close behind him, leaving the two officers in the room together.

In the silence, Ciaran moved to an area near some tall metal lockers, depositing his bag on top of a wooden bench before beginning to change out of his uniform.

"So what's this second part of the inspection, sir?" Ciaran asked as he removed his deep maroon jacket, folding it neatly before placing it on to the bench. "I wasn't told anything."

"Yeah, sorry about that." Darlton said with a shrug. "We really should keep your abreast of what's going on, I promise. But anyway, what we've got planned is to replace the Gloucester you lost at Narita."

"I didn't loose it, sir," Ciaran said as he turned, removing his under-shirt. "It got blown up."

The scarred general shook his head at the joke. "Not funny, Ciaran."

Ciaran shrugged as he continued removing his clothes, setting them all on the bench beside the duffel-bag before removing his drab green pilot suit.

"Darlton, can I ask you something?" The young man said out of the blue, although Darlton was ready for him to speak up again. "It's about Kallen."

Now that he wasn't ready for. "What about her?"

"What's going to happen to her?" The young man asked, his pilot suit pulled up over his legs to his waist.

"We'll probably be keeping tags on her for a while. Why do you ask?"

Ciaran looked guilty for a few seconds, not looking at Darlton in the eye as he slid his arms in to his pilot suit. "I... I was wondering if we could maybe... let Kallen off the hook a bit."

"What?" Darlton roared, more in surprise than in anger.

"I just..." Ciaran began speaking. "I just think that Kallen's not in the right frame of mind, especially after what happened to her mother and Zero's taking advantage of her. She's a good girl, but she can't see she's being used."

Darlton opened his mouth to say something but he shut it as he thought on the young man's words. It was true that out of the two of them, Ciaran had been the one to spend the most time with Kallen, so he did have to take Ciaran's words at face value. But remembering what Kallen had been like when the general had talked to her at Nagano, the young man's words made some sense.

Being the child of a Britannian noble and a native Eleven would make Kallen's life a hard one, even if she lead the life of an aristocrat. She would have to keep her non-Britannian side a secret for practically her entire life. And if she decided to stick to her native roots, well... many of the Numbers that lived in the ghettos weren't too forgiving of people sired by a Britannian.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Darlton thought on what the young man said.

"All right. I'll see what can be done," The general grumbled out as he uncrossed his arms, before pointing a finger at Ciaran. "But if anything happens, you're responsible. Got it?"

"Understood, sir." The young man said with a smile as he zipped up his pilot suit before moving to replaced his boots over his feet.

When the young man was ready, he and Darlton left exited the room in to the hallway, Kururugi still standing at his place outside the door, before showing the two officers the direction to the assembly area.

The walk wasn't quiet as the Japanese warrant-officer struck up a conversation with the young captain.

"Captain Forsyth, would it be wrong of me to invite you to have drinks with me at some point?"

Darlton perked his ears up at what Ciaran's answer would be.

"You mean as in outside of work, right?" The Briton asked. "No uniforms, no talk of work?"

"Yes, sir." Kururugi replied expectantly.

Darlton didn't turn his head fully, just a bit so he could see out of the corner of his eye. This allowed him to see Ciaran nod his head yes before smiling gently at the Japanese youth.

"All right then." Ciaran said. "After this whole thing, I'll give you my mobile number so you can call me to arrange a time and place. Sound good?"

Darlton turned his head to look ahead of him, smiling as he heard Kururugi voice his agreement to the idea as the trio exited in to the assembly area.

It didn't surprise the general that the majority of the space in the room was taken up by the form of the kneeling Knightmare. Called the Lancelot Club, as Darlton remembered what he read in the original briefing, it was a white and blue machine, built from left over bits from the original Lancelot.

It looked impressive to Darlton, but his opinion on the machine wasn't what mattered. He wasn't the one who was going to be piloting it.

Although looking at Ciaran's face, the young man didn't seem impressed.

"Do you not like it, Captain Forsyth?" Cornelia asked as she appeared behind Darlton, taking the trio by surprise, although the Briton kept his eyes mainly on the Lancelot Club.

"Permission to speak freely, your Highness?" The young man asked, looking at the Princess out of the corner of his eye.

"Of course. I wouldn't have brought you here if I didn't want your opinion."

"Well. In my opinion... it looks like a fucking bullet magnet."

"Oh, jeez." Darlton said as he put his hand to his forehead before stifling a chuckle that came to his throat.

"It is though." Ciaran said incredulously, looking at the Princess as he pointed at the Lancelot Club. "Front-line military vehicles should not be blue and white! And don't even get me started on the bloody horn."

Darlton couldn't help but shake his head as he fought the chuckling fit that came on to him.

The moment passed however as the general heard a pair of footsteps advancing towards them quickly. Removing his hand from his head, Darlton turned to see Professor Asplund advancing towards them, a mildly aggravated look on his face, with Cécile a few paces behind.

"What's all the hullabaloo about... Oh, it's you again." The look on the scientist's face became almost downright hostile as his eyes locked on to Ciaran. "Come to mock another of my inventions, Captain?"

"If you want to call it 'mocking', that's your prerogative. I just don't want to be addled with a machine that will as sooner make me the target for every gun the enemy has than it will keep me alive."

Asplund put his hands on to his hips as he stared Ciaran down. "What does it matter what colour it is? It's speed will more than make up for it."

Ciaran was ready to retort, the words ready on his lips, before Cornelia cut in. "How easy would it be to repaint the Lancelot Club, Professor Asplund?"

Cécile spoke up, pre-empting any words from the lavender-haired scientist. "It won't be too hard to replace the paint scheme with one that Captain Forsyth wishes, your Highness."

"See?" The Princess said, forcing Ciaran to turn to look at her. "No problem at all. Let's get this over with."

Cornelia held her hand out beside her, palm up. Without a word, Guilford stepped forward and placed the data-pad in her hand. The Princess walked forward, past Darlton and the young men before standing in front of Cécile and Professor Asplund, holding the device out towards them.

"You'll find all the combat data we took from Captain Forsyth's training in the Sutherland and the Gloucester, along with what we could get from his fight at Narita."

"Of course, your Highness." Cécile said with a bow before taking the electronic device from her hand. "I'll get it hooked up to the computers and we can being the simulation."

Cornelia nodded her head before she turned to look at the young man. "Are you ready, Captain?"

Darlton watched as Ciaran turned his head to look at the kneeling Knightmare before turning back to look at the Princess. "Let's get this over with. Your Highness."

The general let out a small snort of laughter at the Briton's words as Ciaran walked towards the kneeling Knightmare and quickly climbing up the nearby ladder to get in to the cockpit block.

The simulation at the Camelot facilities ran for just a little over three hours. Inside the cockpit block of the Lancelot Club, Ciaran was put through various short timed scenarios, focusing on various aspects of Knightmare combat: Knightmare versus infantry, Knightmare versus Armoured Fighting Vehicles, Knightmare versus Knightmare and other combat scenarios.

At the end of the tests, the results were impressive. Scoring an eighty-seven percent on the initial testing with the Sutherland and Gloucester, Ciaran found piloting the Lancelot Club not just an easy experience, but an exhilarating one too. In the Knightmare versus Knightmare scenarios, he showed good aptitude in using the VARIS rifle to pick off units at long range, always aiming for those he saw as command units before moving in for the quick kill with the Maser Vibration Swords. Combat against AFVs was almost virtually the same, except relying more heavily on the VARIS than the MVS'.

Several problems were found to exist though. The Lancelot Club's VARIS could switch to a special modified sniper rifle variant, allowing him to hit targets at a longer range, but he found that it drained the Club's energy filler too quickly.

Another problem was in the anti-infantry simulations. While the VARIS was fully capable of short range, fully automatic bursts of fire, the Club lacked any form of dedicated anti-personnel weaponry like the hull mounted machine gun possessed by the Gloucesters or Sutherlands. Ciaran could still remember the moment of anger he felt when, while attacking a ruined high-rise, the Club found itself missing a leg from a hidden enemy RPG team.

Which was another issue Ciaran found. While the armour of the Club was as good as any Knightmare, he found himself at the mercy of too many near misses for his liking. Again, RPGs and anti-Knightmare rounds were the problem.

"I don't trust that I'll often find myself in environments where the Club's speed will be the main advantage," Ciaran had said during his debriefing after the simulations end. "Urban and forested environments will be the end of me if I get stuck in there."

To that end, the order was given that the Club be up-armoured to increase it's defences, but also in such a way as to allow the Knightmare to obtain it's high speeds.

Finally, the most contentious issue around the Club was what new colour it would be.

Ciaran wanted it drab green, the same as his pilot suit.

"It's a neutral colour which can be altered to suit various war-zones." The young Briton had reasoned, and had found no complaints from any of the military officers.

Lloyd however was unconvinced.

"It's such an ugly colour though." The scientist said.

"Military vehicles are not meant to be works of art," Ciaran replied. "The purpose of anything related to combat is to aid in the destruction of the enemy, either directly or indirectly. Making a military vehicle or weapon look pretty, and I apologise for phrasing it like this, is basically the same as covering a turd in glitter. You can try and make it look nice, but in the end, it's still a turd."

Acting quickly, Cornelia had called a stop to the conversation before it could devolve in to a debate on the merits of style with regards to military equipment and ordered the Lancelot Club to be moved to the garage at the Viceroy's Palace before leaving the Tokyo Settlement University.

The drive back to the Viceroy's Palace was more amicable, with the group discussing the young Briton's work with the Club and how they think it would fare in the future against the Knightmares possessed by the Black Knights.

Inside the Palace, the group split up again, Ciaran no longer needed for the day, but he felt the urge to do something, so he decided to make a start on the information Cornelia had asked him for before Narita.

Sitting at the desk in his bedroom, Ciaran was hard at work as he was writing out the draft for the essay he was preparing for Cornelia. She hadn't said when she wanted the information given to her, or in what form, but the young man had decided to get this out of the way as soon as he could. He'd been working on in almost non-stop from as soon as he and the others had arrived back at the Palace. Darlton suggested that Ciaran spent some more time getting to grips with the Lancelot Club, but his requests for upgrades and alterations to the Knightmare had taken precedence over anything else, so the young man had decided to get his essay out of the way.

Using a single large writing pad, the young man was racking his brain trying to think of what to put down. Looking up from the pad, he looked at the various pieces of paper he had strewn around his desk and what they contained.

Ciaran would readily admit he wasn't the most knowledgeable about military history, but he knew enough to get by, but picking up some of the pieces of paper to look at them, he began worrying that that wasn't enough for him.

"Oh, come on. I know I'm missing something. But what?" He said to himself as he looked through the notes he had written for Cornelia on what he remembered about counter insurgency.

Deciding that recapping his memory was the best thing to do, he closed the pad to start from the beginning. Looking at the front page, Ciaran focused on the title as he tried to get his brain working.

An Essay on Counter Insurgency Strategies and Tactics, with special reference to the conflicts carried out in Africa and the Middle East.

By Ciaran Forsyth, Captain.

A trio of measured knocks came from the door, forcing Ciaran to turn around.

"Who is it?" He called out, making ready to shuffle the papers together and put them away to hide them.

"It's Guilford." The voice form the other side called out, and instantly the young man recognized it as belonging to Cornelia's Knight. "Can I come in?"

Ciaran breathed a sigh of relief before he turned back to his desk. "Come on in, my lord."

The sound of the door opening and closing reached his ears as the Knight walked over towards the flustered young man, who was tapping a finger against the desk top as he was looking at a sheet of paper that contained information he had written about the battle of Mogadishu.

"Having trouble with something?" Lord Guilford said, the closeness of his voice not catching Ciaran by surprise, as engrossed as he was in his work.

"I will not deny it, my lord. I am stuck." Ciaran said resignedly, dropping the paper back to the desktop, letting out a deep sigh as he slumped back in his chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Leaning over the young man's shoulder, the bespectacled Knight took in the myriad of papers assembled on the desk. "Well, what have you got so far?"

Removing his hand from his face, Ciaran shifted in his chair to sit upright. "Well, since I'm writing this for the Princess, Darlton and yourself, I didn't want to put down any information that you already know."

Guilford nodded as he cast his eyes over the papers. "So what were you focusing on?"

"Well, first off," The young man replied, turning to look at the Knight. "The ways in which Africa and the Middle East is made up in my world is completely different to how it is in this world. There's a lot more political reasons behind the wars in the former and religious reasons for the wars in the latter."

"What do you mean by 'political reasons'?" The Knight asked as he moved aside, taking a seat on Ciaran's bed, forcing the young man to turn his chair to look at him.

"Oh, how do I explain this?" Ciaran said, putting his hand against his chin as he began thinking. "Okay. What I'm going to say is an incredibly condensed, so bear with me. Around the late nineteenth century, a political idea came up called 'communism'. Now the idea behind communism is that everything in society can be distributed evenly: wealth, goods, land, etcetera."

A snort of derision came from the man sitting on the bed. "What?"

Ciaran gave a small smile in return. "I know. It's daft. In my world, people have tried and it's never worked out. Too easy to manipulate, too easy to corrupt. Anyway, we're off topic-"

"Sorry. Carry on."

"Thank you. Now, after the First World War in the first quarter of the twentieth century, the original monarchist government of Russia got replaced by a communist regime. This stayed in power throughout the mid-twentieth century until the latter part of the twentieth century."

"Hold on, Ciaran." Guilford said, leaning forward with a look of confusion on his face. "'First' world war?"

"Yeah, there were two world wars. Can I continue speaking, my lord?" The young man replied, looking at Guilford with a bored expression. This really must be how high school teachers felt.

"Sorry. Do continue."

"Now, following the Second World War, which is far too complicated to go in to," Ciaran said hastily, cutting off the question he knew was going to come from the Knight. "Two power blocks formed between the main political powers at the time: The North Atlantic Treaty Organization led by the United States of America and the Communist Bloc lead by the United Soviet States of Russia."

Ciaran sighed but smiled at the look of confusion on Guilford's face.

"My lord, I swear that I will explain all of this in due time. It's just incredibly complicated and long, and would require the use of at least half a dozen whiteboards."

The bespectacled Knight nodded his head slowly before motioning with his hands for Ciaran to continue.

"Now, as I'm sure you can imagine, neither power want to engage in a Third World War, especially with the weapons they had at their disposal – Don't ask – So they were content to, shall we say, play a very high stakes game of chess, and Africa was their chosen board."

"Why Africa?" Guilford asked, giving Ciaran question that didn't require much explanation.

"Basically, after the Second World War, the European powers, those who still had imperial territories overseas; Britain, France, Belgium and Portugal, lost their power in the post-war world, so they decided to basically cut their ties with their overseas territories. The majority of them got through simple elections and were given their independence. Others... decided that waiting for a vote was too long."

"And I assume this is where the Communists came in?" Guilford asked, his interest piqued now.

"Technically: Soviets, but yes. In the early years, they sent arms they had taken from the Germans – please don't ask. I WILL explain this, my lord. They sent weapons and equipment they had taken from the Germans during the Second World War so as to avoid being called out on supplying arms to rebels."

Guilford nodded his head at the thinking. "I can see the logic behind that."

"Exactly. This started a series of proxy wars, where the Soviets tried to expand their theatre of influence without anyone in the international community giving them grief over it."

The Knight brought a finger up to his chin as he processed the information, and Ciaran was preparing for his next question.

"Okay. I think I've got a handle on that." Guilford said after a few seconds, looking at the young man sitting across from him. "But I feel I have to ask: what about the tactics?"

That made Ciaran smile. "I'm glad you asked that question. You see, in the 1960s, one former British colony in Africa found itself virtually surrounded by enemies from without and had an enemy striking from within. These enemies used small bases scattered around the countryside, deep in the brush, and they used tactics like mining roads, making it near impossible for the nation's soldiers to move about without being ambushed and also attack isolated civilian farms to try and cripple the country's infrastructure."

"So how did they deal with it?" Guilford asked, intrigued by the concept.

"Firstly, they shrunk down their unit sizes, from eight man sections to four man sticks, giving each stick a machine gun instead of keeping it one to a section."

"Increase in fire power and creating more flexible operating units." Guilford said, to which Ciaran nodded.

"Exactly. And to deal with the mined roads, they created a new class of vehicles: MRAPs."

"Em-raps?" The Knight asked in confusion.

"Mine-Resistant Ambush Protected vehicles. That's the American designation at least, and it's stuck. But it's apt. Basically, these are troop carriers which have an angled hull," Ciaran put his hands so that his wrists were together with his hands apart to form a V-shape. "These were reinforced with extra armour plating and sometimes the wheels would be filled with water. This would mean the vehicles were resilient to mines and improvised explosive devices."

"But what about the bases deep in the brush?"

At this, Ciaran's smile grew larger, even revealing a few of his teeth. "Two words: vertical envelopment."

Guilford arced an eyebrow at the term.

"Basically, it's what it says on the tin. Using a quartet of helicopters, one designated as a command vehicle and the other three as gunship-transports, which was in turn supported by several sticks of paratroopers in a transport aircraft and given fire support by a light attack aircraft. These groups, known as a 'Fireforce', were responsible for large swathes of the countryside which were routinely swept by infantry patrols.

"When the foot patrols found an enemy base, they would radio back to their HQ, giving the coordinates of the enemy. This would call the Fireforce in to the air, with the first to arrive being the command helicopter, wherein the commander would circle at a couple of hundred feet in the air relaying information to the gunships; identifying enemy strong-points, weapon emplacements, what have you."

"Sounds impressive." Guilford said in genuine astonishment. "Then I assume that the gunships would be used as blocking forces while engaging the enemy?"

Ciaran nodded his head in astonishment at how quickly the Britannian grasped the concept. "You are good. Yeah, as you said, the other sticks would be dropped around the target zone as blocking force, although the unit commander would have to order them in to areas where he was certain that the enemy would try to escape through. Then of course, the noose would be tightened around the target, usually via inserting the paratroops or by calling air-strikes from the... Oh, holy shit!"

The young man put his hands to his head as he leaned back in his chair, a large smile cracking across his face before he began laughing. To say this confused Guilford greatly would be an understatement.

"Is something wrong?" The Knight asked, standing up slightly from the bed to look at Ciaran's outburst, a mixture of worry and confusion on face.

After a few moments of laughing, Ciaran let his arms drop to his side before moving to look at the Knight, an unremitting smile on his face. "Do you know that bit that was giving me trouble?"

Guilford looked at him in bewilderment before the realization dawn on his face, making the knight shake his head, a smile growing on his face as he chuckled himself. For his part, Ciaran turned his chair back to face his desk and picked up his pen, not wanting to forget what he had said.

"You're welcome for the assistance, Ciaran." The Knight said as he made to move towards the door, before stopping and turning back to look at the young man. "Oh, I just remembered."

Ciaran turned his head to look at the Knight.

"Dinner's going to be at six. Roast chicken, with roast potatoes, steamed vegetables and gravy."

The young man's mouth began salivating at the prospect of a good roast dinner. "That sounds bloody wonderful, my Lord. I won't be late."

"I'll see you at six then," Guilford said as he carried on walking to Ciaran's bedroom door. "Don't overwork yourself now."

The young man just chuckled as he returned back to his paper.

He heard the door open.

"Ciaran?" Guilford asked, prompting Ciaran to turn his chair around to look at the Knight.

"Yes?"

The Knight had his arms crossed across his chest as he looked at the young Briton. "Satisfy my curiosity. What's the name of the country you were talking about?"

"Oh. Rhodesia."

As the name left his lips, Ciaran saw Guilford's face take on a look of confusion again before he let out a short bark of laughter. "Really? That's the last place I expected to pull off something like that."

Ciaran looked at Guilford in bewilderment as the Knight left the room, shaking his head.

Quickly shaking the thought from his head, the young man turned back to the paper before he fully forgot what he had told Guilford about.

"And done!" Ciaran shouted triumphantly as he pressed the full stop key for the last time. It had taken nearly three hours of work, half a dozen crumpled pieces of paper, many angry deletions and the temptation to throw his laptop across the room after one accidental button press deleted a good portion of his work, but finally, the essay was done.

Twelve pages, including the title page, coupled with four pages of, admittedly, crude diagrams drawn by hand that were resting on his desk, gave Ciaran a respectable amount of sixteen pages. It would have probably gotten him a B in his A-level history class, but here, he was just hoping that none it seemed to be daft.

He had covered all the major things he could think of: the British in Malaysia during the Malay Emergency and how a 'hearts and mind' approach against an isolated insurgency can achieve victory when used in conjunction with using local intelligence sources. He also covered the Vietnam War, and how simply using overwhelming force and fire-power in an environment not suited for it against a large insurgent presence, with substantial backing in arms and war material from neighbouring countries would not result in a victory.

He wasn't sure how much of what he wrote would be actually useful to Cornelia and the others, but he had continued. He wrote about the Battle of Mogadishu, about how the American forces had failed to come up with a Plan B if things went wrong, had not told the UN about their plan, and had underestimated the resistance that would be put up the by Somalis (to name a few, since by this point Ciaran's mind was quite frazzled from overworking).

He had also referenced the tactics and innovations used by the Rhodesian Defence Forces in the Rhodesian Bush War, which would lead to creation of the modern counter-insurgency tactics used by the Coalition forces operating in Iraq and Afghanistan.

His right wrist hurt from all the penmanship and even from the typing, and he was certain he was slightly dehydrated. But now, looking over his work, there was only phrase that came to mind.

"Worth it."

Reaching over, he quickly moved the mouse on the laptop to select the button to print the pages before clicking the button. Soon, the sound of the printer whirring to life and inking the pieces of paper filled the room. And to Ciaran, it was the most glorious sound to his ears.

Leaning back in his chair, the young man began massaging his wrist as he tried to get rid of the ache, watching the first pieces of paper come out of the printer. When he was certain that there were not going to be any troubles, he looked at the clock on the laptop.

16:13

'Not too bad.' Ciaran thought to himself as he stood up from his chair. It wouldn't take too long for all of the papers to finish printing and it was also a while before dinner so he was a bit unsure about what to do with himself for the next hour and three quarters.

The thought of going for another shower cropped in to his head when the buzzing of his mobile phone receiving a text reached his ear, the sound reverberating loudly as the phone rumbled across the wooden desktop. Moving to his desk, he picked up the phone and flipped up the screen to look at who it was.

Ciaran.

Come to my room. Please.

Dorothea.

The ache in his wrist was forgotten as he looked at the words on the small screen. The memories of that morning came rushing back to him: the look on her face when she realised she had slept on him, the guilt in her face at her actions.

Quickly moving in to the bathroom, the young man gave himself. He knew this wasn't anything official, but he felt it was only right to make himself look presentable. Taking a quick swig from a bottle of mouthwash, he freshened his breath before giving his upper body a quick spray with a can of deodorant. He couldn't do much with his hair or beard, so he decided that it was best to leave them as they were.

Exiting the bathroom, he moved to the door. Standing to pause in front of the door, he took a deep breath before gripping the handle, pressing it down and exiting his room.

The walk to the room was longer than Ciaran knew it was. The whole experience seemed surreal to him, as he moved down the hallway. His footsteps echoed loudly, almost eclipsing the sound of his blood reverberating through his ears as his heart felt like it was ready to explode from his chest. Ciaran was certain that he felt sweat literally dripping from his forehead.

At this moment in time, he'd rather face down Kallen's Knightmare with a pistol then walk down this corridor.

It took him by surprise when he blinked his eyes closed and upon opening them, he found himself standing in front of Dorothea's door. Looking to the sides, he made sure he was by himself.

Standing still, he brought his hand to chest, expecting to feel it beating a jack-hammer against his sternum. Resting his hand against his breast, he found that it was beating quickly, but not as quickly as he imagined it was.

Bringing his hand up to forehead, ready to wipe away the built-up sweat, only to find it bone dry.

Shaking his head quickly, Ciaran quickly thumped the sides of his head with his wrists.

"Come on, Ciaran!" He hissed to himself. "You're over-thinking this!"

Taking a deep breath, he reached forward and knocked on the door before calling out, his hand dropping to his side. "Dorothea, it's me."

Silence met him in reply for a few seconds and he raised his hand to knock again before he heard the Knight of Four's voice call out. "Come in, Ciaran."

Grasping the door handle, he pushed open the wooden door and stepped in to the room. Sure as sure, Dorothea was inside the room. She was dressed in her pristine white Knight of The Round's uniform, once again possessing the sharp edge the outfit gave her. Her hair was done up again and she was sitting on the edge of her bed, her fingers laced together and resting on her knees.

"Close the door, please." She said, Ciaran quickly complying with the request before walking towards the bed. As he moved towards her, he cast his eyes around Dorothea's bedroom, unsurprised to find that it was exactly the same as his own.

Stopping beside the bed, he looked down at Dorothea as she shuffled aside slightly then patting the vacant spot beside her. Looking at her hand as she tapped the part of the bed beside her, he hesitantly moved to sit on the bed, deciding that a small distance between the two of them was the best option. Looking over, Ciaran was glad to see that she wasn't offended by his action.

"So," Dorothea began after a few moments of silence. "I feel that I owe you an explanation for why I reacted the way I did this morning."

Ciaran nodded his head, hinting that Dorothea should continue speaking.

Looking at her, he watched as the dark-skinned woman shifted slightly in her seat, like she suddenly found it uncomfortable. She began wringing her hands before changing to twiddling her thumbs as she looked down at her hands before shutting her eyes.

"Ciaran, I... I want to... um... I want to tell you that..." Dorothea began, before squeezing her hands tight in to a fist. "That I feel that... that I... Damn it, why is this so hard?"

Reaching over, Ciaran put a hand on to her shoulder, making Dorothea's head snap up and around, her eyes wide in shock.

"Dorothea," He said in a soothing voice. "Let me say this first: seeing your act like this is... it's freaking me out a bit. I know you want to say something big, so... just take your time. I'm not going anywhere."

The young Briton meant every word of it, and it warmed his heart to see Dorothea's mouth break in to a smile, her eyes seeming to glimmer in the light as she did so and a blush crept on to her cheeks. Turning her head to look away, she let it drop but at the same time she reached up and put her hand on top of Ciaran's hand, rubbing the top of his hand with her thumb.

Letting out a small sigh, Dorothea began speaking again. "I'm sorry, but this is hard for me since it's not something I've never done before."

Ciaran raised an eyebrow at her words as she continued.

"It's just that... I know you think of me as a friend, and I think of you as one too. But I've developed... feelings that a friend shouldn't have for a friend. And... I'm worried that you'll hate me for it."

Dorothea's words brought a confused smile to Ciaran's face. "Dorothea, nothing you could say could make me hate you. Now, I want you to tell me what's bothering you, without fear or hesitation. Okay?"

Lifting her head once more, Dorothea looked at him again, her emerald eyes locking with his light green eyes. Gripping his hand, she turned in place to face him properly.

"Ciaran... I think I love you."

He didn't mean for what happened next to happen, but Ciaran's eyes opened wide and he grinned at her.

"You... you love me?"

Dorothea nodded her head. "I thought that what I was feeling was something else. But... I was worried that if I told anyone, that you would find out and you would end up hating me. So I checked on the internet what my feelings were, and... I think, no, I'm sure that I love you."

Ciaran slumped in his seat at the revelation. This was not what he expected.

"That's also why I freaked out this morning. I was worried that what I did was too forward and, since I didn't know what your feelings for me were, I panicked."

It was Ciaran's turn to be flustered as this woman poured out her feelings to him. Looking at her, he saw that Dorothea was waiting expectantly for him to talk.

"Um... I... when did you start feeling... this way?" He asked hesitantly.

"I'm not sure." Dorothea replied, looking down at his hand. "Looking back on it, it might have been when we first met, when you kissed the back of my hand. I've had it done many times to me by noblemen and other people trying to gain my favour in some form or another. But with you, it felt... different."

"Different how?"

"Like... like you wanted to do it. It felt like an actual show of affection rather than a simple gesture." Dorothea said.

Ciaran thought back to that night and... yeah, she was right. He knew that kissing the back of her hand was the right thing to do as she was a noblewoman, but at the same time, he did want to do it.

"And... Kitakyushu?" He asked, bringing up that fateful night.

"I... I'm not sure. In my head, I rationalized it as me trying to comfort you after what you went through. But seeing you in that state, vulnerable and confused... I don't know. A part of my brain told me to take advantage of it and it made me kiss you."

At this revelation, to Ciaran's surprise, Dorothea's eyes began to water as she spoke.

"You must think I'm a horrible person."

Seeing tears begin to trail down Dorothea's cheeks, Ciaran felt horrible.

This conversation was too one sided.

"Well, I have to say something too, actually." He said, making Dorothea look up at him, tears filling her eyes. "I... don't think those feelings are one sided."

"What do you mean?" The Knight of Four asked.

"I think that I've developed feelings for you too. Whether those feelings are love or not, I'm not one hundred percent positive, but I'd like to think they're a start."

Looking at him, Dorothea quickly used the sleeve of her free arm to wipe at her eyes, removing her tears. "You... you do?"

The young man nodded in reply. "I can't say with certainty that it was when I first met you the night you and Nonette arrived, but I know that seeing you look angry and annoyed at what happened at Kawaguchi made me feel... I didn't like it one bit. I wanted to see you smile, and when you smiled, it felt... right."

Dorothea's lips spread in to a smile, the same smile she had on at Kawaguchi, which made her eyes sparkle gently. "Does it feel right now?"

Ciaran couldn't help but smile at her words as he nodded his head. "Yes. It feels right. And at Kitakyushu, actually that should be 'after Kitakyushu', I got confused."

The smile fell from Dorothea's lips.

"I mean... it shocked me that you would kiss me. I didn't think that you would think of me like that. But now..."

"And now?" Dorothea asked.

Leaning forward quickly, simultaneously removing his hand from her grip, Ciaran pressed his lips to Dorothea's left cheek in a small kiss, the same side she kissed him on at Kitakyushu.

The copper-skinned woman's eyes opened wide and her skin reddened in a blush as Ciaran moved back.

"Now I'm glad you spent the night with me."

Dorothea's face softened at the revelation. Reaching forward, Ciaran wrapped his arms around the woman's shoulders and pulled her in to a hug as he shifted his position to sit directly next to her. They stayed connected like that for a few moments before Dorothea relinquished her hold on him.

"There is something we do need to talk about." He said earnestly.

"What's up?" Ciaran asked, feeling a bit worried because of the look she was giving him.

"Well... I'm a Knight of the Round, and you're British-born soldier, a captain you may be."

"Oh? Oh." The young man asked before the realization set in. "Yeah, that would be a problem."

Dorothea nodded her head. "Indeed. If news that we were together got out, then... I don't know what would happen to us, but I know we wouldn't be able to enjoy being with each other."

Ciaran nodded his head in understanding. He could only guess how the Britannian news agencies would go with the idea of the Knight of Four having a relationship with an unknown captain.

"Well... what if we just keep between our group?" The young man asked, looking at Dorothea hopefully.

"What do you mean?" She asked in reply.

"Well... I'm not sure about you, but I wouldn't feel one hundred percent about keeping our relationship a secret. But what if we only told the people we trust?"

Dorothea fixed Ciaran with a deadpan look. "You want to tell Nonette that we're in a relationship?"

A look of fear came to Ciaran's face as he realised what the implication of such an action would be. "Yeah, okay, maybe not her. But we should at least tell Cornelia what's going on."

Dorothea opened her mouth to protest but closed it.

"All right. And we should also tell Darlton. I wouldn't feel right if he didn't know."

"Agreed." Ciaran said quickly. With the scarred general taking on the role as surrogate father, it would be sensible to tell him.

"And Euphemia." Dorothea said quickly, which surprised Ciaran.

"Eh?"

At that reaction, a guilty look cropped on to the woman's face. "Um... I may have told Euphemia about me kissing you at Kitakyushu."

Ciaran nodded his head at Dorothea's admission, although to Dorothea, it must have meant that he didn't like what she had done.

"I'm sorry. Euphemia just... pulled it out of me."

"No. I understand. She, uh... she did the same to me."

Dorothea smiled at the news that she wasn't alone in that regards.

"So when shall we tell them?" Ciaran asked, deciding that it was best for her to dictate something like this. After a few moments of pondering quietly, Dorothea spoke up.

"Let's leave it for today. You've got your new unit to deal with, and that'll take time for you." The dark-skinned woman nodded her head at her own reasoning. "We'll do it the day after tomorrow. Treat it like a plaster. Just get it out, then and there."

"Agreed." Ciaran said in reply, before the pair lapsed in to a comfortable silence.

They stayed together like that for a few moments, their hands connected to each other. Reluctantly, Dorothea let her hand slide out from between Ciaran's and moved to stand up.

"I need to get cleaned up for dinner. I'll see you then, okay?" She said, smiling sweetly at him as the young man stood up.

"Yeah, no problem. I should get ready too. I'll see you at dinner."

At that, the two walked away from each, Dorothea heading to the bathroom and Ciaran heading to the door. As his hand grazed the door handle, the female Knight called out to him.

"Ciaran?"

Turning around, the young man saw Dorothea practically hugging the door frame of the bathroom, her head resting against her arm and, even from the distance he was at, Ciaran could easily see the blush on her cheeks.

"Thank you." She said, before gliding in to the room, leaving Ciaran to open the door and walk out in the hallway, closing the door behind him.

When the door was closed, Ciaran slumped backwards until his back lightly tapped against the door. As the back of his head came to rest against the wood, he let a broad smile come to his face before he began chuckling slightly.

This was definitely an unusual way to start the week. But as he pushed himself off from the door and made his way back to his room, he couldn't resist adding a spring to his step.

'This week might turn out better than I thought.' He thought to himself as he entered his room, ready to take a shower.

The wind blew pleasantly through the air, invisibly dancing with the clouds, as the sun sat just above the horizon in the same position it always had been, turning the sky a vivid shade of orange and bathing the ruins on the floating platform in various fiery colours on one side and casting the other side in long shadows.

Standing in the middle of the large floating platform, the large frame of the 98th Emperor of the Holy Britannian Emperor, Charles zi Britannia, stood unmoving against the breeze. The wind caused his large black and red cloak to whip up behind him along with the gold-trimmed, deep purple jacket he wore as his befitting rank as Emperor. Even with the low light casting a long shadow, he was a giant of a man, standing well over six foot and a half tall, which coupled with his broad shoulders, barrel chest and the near permanent scowl on his square face made him a terrifying colossus.

Currently, he had his eyes closed, lost in his own thoughts in the immense solitude that the Sword of Akasha provided. Here he could get away from the mundaneness of being the ruler of Britannia and the trivialities of the world at large. He was undisturbed as always, none of the members of the Geass Directorate would disturb him here unless it was important news.

So the sound of footsteps echoing off the steps leading to ruins with the Sword of Akasha was a surprise, albeit not a wholly unexpected surprise to him. What as a definite surprise was the weight of the footsteps. They weren't the heavy footfalls of the masked and robed men that made up the higher ranks of the Directorate.

They were lighter. Softer. Smaller.

"Big brother" Charles said simply, not bothering to turn around as he heard his older brother walk up towards him.

"How are you faring, brother?" V.V. asked as he sidled up beside the larger man. Looking at the two of them together; one being a large man in his sixties with white hair and the other, little more than a boy in appearances, with long blond hair, an onlooker would be forgiven for thinking that it was V.V. that was the elder sibling.

It was when they were both ten, after loosing their mother in an assassin's attack, her carriage overturning and crushing her to death. Both Charles and his brother grew tired of the falsehoods that plagued the world, all the lying and manipulation.

But they had a plan for all of that.

"Same as always." Charles replied glibly, not bothering to look at his brother. "How goes your hunt for C.C.?"

"We've not made much progress in our search for her. She's proving incredibly elusive." The small blonde... boy said, sounding very annoyed. "But that's not why I'm here. Something has come up."

This caught Charles' interest, causing him to turn his head to look at the immortal man in the young boys body as he arced an eyebrow at the news. "What do you mean?"

V.V. didn't look is brother, just facing a head at the sky in front of them. From his vantage point, Charles could see that his brother was trying to figure out what to say.

"We've... detected an anomaly." V.V. said simply, obviously seeing no other way to phrase it.

This confused Charles greatly.

"What do you mean?"

V.V. shrugged in reply. "My intel sources tell me that it's one person, a young man. He's in Area 11, and he's on Cornelia's command staff."

"Does he have any connection to C.C.?" Charles asked, still looking at his brother as he shook his head.

"Not as far as we can tell. He disappeared after the battle at Narita a few days ago and has now resurfaced at the Viceroy's Palace, but that's all we know."

Charles turned back to look at the sky in front of him, watching the clouds float across the sky.

"Does he pose a threat to our goal?" He asked after a few moments of quiet contemplating.

V.V. shook his head. "Not that we can immediately tell."

The pair stood in silence again.

"No matter. This man is nothing," Charles practically growled out. "He's just the same as the rest of the world: an insignificant stepping stone on the path to our true goal."

"Killing God." V.V. said, finishing his brother's thoughts as the pair continued looking out over the rolling clouds in the sky that was always a fiery orange.

AN: And it's up! Much earlier than expected. Which might bode well for Chapter 20 then.

And big news! A Brave New World has crossed a major threshold: 168 followers, 158 faves and 110 reviews! Holy shit guys. I cannot help but say thank you for all of the love and attention you guys have given this story. Means a lot. Again thank you.

So yeah, chapter 19. Again, serious thanks to A.D Fields for giving me a hand with this chapter. This chapter really had me writing something I'm not used to writing: anything remotely romantic. It's hard, all right! Especially for someone like who has read virtually nothing but military orientated stories.

Also, there's the big reveal of who Ciaran is going with! And it is Dorothea. Why? Because I'm the author and that's all. Okay, that's not just all. Code Geass did a good job at introducing some interesting characters, but ever since seeing Dorothea in R2, episode 22, also along with Monica, she just seemed like an interesting character. Although I'll be honest, I'm usually more taken with characters who DON'T get a lot of airtime purely because it lets my imagination run wild.

And also: we see V.V and Charles again. I'll be honest, the Sword of Akasha kind of confuses me, purely because it's always shown as being either around sunrise or sunset. I'm unsure of whether it's because exists at a point in space where the sun is just above the horizon or the nature of the Sword of Akasha just creates a pseudo-sunset/sunrise.

So, as usual: read, enjoy, review. Until next time!