Code Geass - A Brave New World

by nightbringer24

(Pretty heavily inspired by Ripped Away) What happens when a young man from our world is transported into the world of Code Geass? Watch as our unfortunate hero is thrust into situations he doesn't fully understand, but tries to make the most of it. R1 Arc in progress.

23. Chapter 23

If there was one universal truth that Ciaran knew, it was this: transcontinental trips were hell.

Sitting in the part of the train terminal set aside for VIPs, the young Briton felt like a member of the undead. He had been right that he had been unable to sleep on the transport plane from Area 11, being one of the only people to remain awake throughout the journey. Darlton had managed to get the two Ladies to play a game or two of cards with them, teaching the young man how to play Texas Hold 'Em, but in the end, Ciaran was up by himself for almost practically the entire flight when everyone had tried to fall asleep, leaving him to play solitaire until they landed.

The two o'clock arrival time at Sacramento International airport wasn't too bad. He'd arrived at later times when coming back with his family from holiday, but this time, he didn't have to waste time waiting to collect his luggage, simply just having to pick it up from beside his seat before exiting the aircraft. Due to the late hour, and the fact the none of the passengers had anything close to actual sleep, they agreed unanimously to go to a nearby hotel before catching the train from the airport that would take them to the vicinity of the Sacramento Air Force Base.

"Why didn't we just go straight there, sir?" Ciaran had asked to the Darlton as they travelled to the chosen hotel in a taxi cab, Villetta and Nonette following in another taxi.

"Would you want someone to handle high-end military equipment without sleep?" Darlton asked, making Ciaran simply shake his head in reply, too close to falling asleep in the taxi to give an answer.

The hotel chosen was nothing spectacular, being a simple Holiday Inn, although since they were only staying for the night, none of them really cared. The quartet was split between two rooms; the two women in one and the two men in the others. The separate beds were a godsend, being so much more comfortable than the seats in the taxi or the aircraft, although that could just have been because the young man was dog tired. So it was with great delight that Ciaran stripped down to his underwear and t-shirt and climbed under the covers to get a good night's rest...

If it wasn't for the fact that his roommate was a snorer. A loud snorer. If he had to give a comparison, Ciaran would say that, in his sleep, Darlton sounded very much more like one of those industrial sized chainsaws they used to fell large trees.

This went on for... the young man had honestly no idea how long it lasted for. The only thing he knew with certainty was that all told, he did not get that much sleep at all.

So, as it were, the young man was sitting in one of the couches and tables in the Sacramento train station's VIP section, looking decidedly haggard and very grumpy, his dark hair and circles under his eyes making him look quite nasty. Although the tawny skinned woman sitting beside him wasn't that bothered in the slightest.

"Come on." Villetta said, leaning her head against an upraised arm. "He couldn't be that bad."

Turning his head to the side, Ciaran fixed his second-in-command with an unamused stare.

"All right. I'll take your word for it." She replied with a shrug while a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. Ciaran didn't say anything in reply, as he was currently torn between either wanting to fall asleep or to fight it and remain awake.

In his current state, he couldn't pay much attention to anything else outside of his immediate surroundings. So it was definitely a surprise when he saw the forms of Darlton and Nonette filling his vision. Looking up, Ciaran saw that the general had an apologetic look on his face, and twin cardboard cups of coffee in his hands, while the Knight of Nine had her hands behind her back.

"I got you a cappuccino." Darlton as said as he extended his right hand towards Ciaran.

"Plenty of cream, plenty of sugar?" The young man asked, taking the cup from the general and removed the plastic cover to see the off white foam sitting on top.

"Yeah, no problem." The general said, nodding his head as he took a seat across from Ciaran and Villetta.

"And I got you this." Nonette said, holding up a tall, blue and silver can with the logo of a red bull emblazoned on the front. Ciaran didn't say anything in reply. Instead he just timidly supped at his coffee, feeling just that bit more invigorated before he spoke up.

"I'll use that as a last case scenario, Nonette." He simply said before sipping from his coffee again.

"So what's the plan for when we get so the Air Base, General Darlton?" Villetta asked, leaning forward in her seat.

"Well, apart from going through security of course, we'll be heading straight to the commanders office. We'll meet Sergeant Major Reynolds there, then we'll go straight to the quartermaster's, where we'll pick up our new uniforms and equipment before we go and meet the fine men of Alpha company." Darlton said the last bit with a large grin, meaning something, but Ciaran wasn't in the right state of mind to guess what. But there was a pressing matter that the young man wanted to ask, and he guess that Villetta was curious for the answer too.

"We're getting new uniforms and equipment, sir?" He asked, leaning forward in his seat while gently holding the cup in his hands, to which Darlton nodded.

"By the Princess' order. You'll see what they are when we get there." Darlton replied, adding in a conspiratorial wink. "I think you'll like the result."

Ciaran was ready to reply but another bout of sleep nearly took hold of him, so he took another drink of his coffee.

Looking down at his watch, he saw there was still a good while until the train arrived so he just sat back in his chair and tried to finish his coffee and keep himself from nodding off completely. Luckily, that didn't end up happening as a number of loud voices came from a general direction behind him caught his attention.

"We are never doing that again." A young woman's voice, seeming to sound as tired as Ciaran was, groaned out before being joined by a young man's.

"Well, to be fair, it could have been worse. Remember Tink's birthday celebration?"

Another young man's voice, a voice that somehow managed to be incredibly peppy chimed in. "Hey! In my defence, that had nothing to do with me. That place was recommended to me, and I didn't make him choose the burritos!"

'You overhear some really strange conversations at a train station.' Ciaran thought to himself as he took another drink from his cup.

So it really shouldn't have surprised him when Nonette's head snapped up to look at the group behind him and a smile came to her face. Quick as a flash, she sprung to her feet and yelled out. "Gino!"

Ciaran just looked at the Knight of Nine in confusion as she moved away from her seat and moved to approach the group. Turning in his seat, he watched as the champagne-haired woman merrily skipped towards the group of, as her had correctly surmised, three teenagers, all of whom were wearing a variation of the uniform of the Knights of the Round.

The first person, the one he guessed to be Gino, was the only boy of the group: a tall youth, probably around sixteen and standing definitely over six feet tall, dressed in the pale white and gold tailcoat of the Knights of the Round, matched with a black and gold waistcoat, white trousers and knee high black boots. He had blonde hair that hung in spikes to his ears while he had what looked like three separate braids hanging over one of his shoulders, while his eyes were a piercing shade of bright blue.

"Nonette!" The Knight yelled in reply before wrapping his arms around the shorter but older woman, then lifting her from her feet and spinning her around in a circle, forcing the people he was with to step back to avoid getting hit by Nonette's feet. "When did you get here? We thought you and Dorothea were in Area 11."

The champagne-haired woman was let down to her feet as she replied. "We were, but I came back to help a friend with a project. Here, let me introduce you."

Standing up from his chair, along with Villetta and Darlton, Ciaran let out a quiet sigh at this new turn of events. He was not in the best mood for this. But if it had to be done, it had to be done.

"Gino Weinberg," Nonette said, sounding a lot more dignified than the Briton thought possible before gesturing to them all; "Allow me to introduce you to Captain Ciaran Forsyth, Captain of Princess Cornelia's Royal Guard, Lady Villetta Nu, late of the Purist Faction and now Captain Forsyth's second-in-command, and and you already know General Darlton."

Turning to look at Ciaran and the others, she held a hand up to gesture at Gino behind her, who simply smiled. "Everyone, this is Gino Weinberg, the Knight of Three."

The three officers put their right arm across their chests in the way of greeting a Knight, but it surprised Ciaran when Gino let out a quick laugh.

"Hey, don't stand on ceremony with me, guys." The young Knight said, waving off the gesture with a goofy smile. "I'm on holiday, the same as Nonette here."

The Briton and the two Britannians visibly relaxed, but was then surprised when the blonde Knight advanced forward and quickly took his hand in a two-handed grip and began shaking his hand vigorously. "So you're the captain that Nonette told us about?"

"Oh, what did she tell you?" Ciaran said far too quickly and too tiredly for his own liking.

"Just how you chased after Zero, on foot, by yourself!" Gino answered, sounding incredibly impressed, even as he continued pumping his arms up and down. "I have to say; that sounds incredible!... for an old man."

The young man's face darkened slightly at the phrase, which made his visage look quite a bit more dangerous. "'Old man'?"

Gino's eyes widened in shock as Ciaran's grip tightened sharply on his hands, making them stop their handshake. Images of the young Briton lifting the Knight of Three over his head and throwing him on to the train track filled his mind, although in his current state, Ciaran wasn't one hundred percent sure if the images in his head were real or not.

Luckily, someone decided to cut in before a murder was committed in broad daylight.

"Okay, Gino, that's enough." The young woman's voice from before said, sounding a lot less tired now and a lot more stoic. "You know that's not the right thing to say to anyone."

The smile faded slightly from Gino's face as the first girl in the uniform of the Knights of the Round appeared behind the blonde Knight. She was short, shorter than Ciaran by a couple of inches and much shorter than Gino, with long blonde hair that reached down past her waist while framing her face with two long pigtails at the front and a short fringe which showed off a round face with expressive blue eyes making Ciaran quickly wonder if she and Gino were related. Her outfit consisted of a similar tailcoat to Gino's but instead of trousers, she wore a simply white skirt, completed with black knee-high, high heeled boots.

The girl stepped closer past Gino and held her hand out for Ciaran to take. "Greetings, Captain Forsyth. I'm Monica Kruszewksi, Knight of Twelve. It's a pleasure to meet." She said warmly, before shooting a pointed glance at Gino. "As someone should have said."

To his credit, Gino made an attempt to look guilty, which didn't really work on his smiling face, making him look like a kid who was caught stealing a cookie but didn't really care.

Taking her hand, Ciaran did the same as he did when he met Dorothea: he took a gentle grasp of her offered hand, turned it over and pressed his lips to her hand. "A pleasure, Lady Kruszewksi."

As he let go of Monica's hand, Ciaran heard a loud huff come from Nonette, making him turn his head to look at the Knight of Nine, who had a decidedly annoyed look on her face.

"What?" He asked.

"Why didn't you do that with me the first time we met?" She replied, crossing her arms across her bust while she directed a pout at Ciaran.

Ciaran wasn't quite sure what to say as he stared at Nonette in mute shook. So he said the only thing he could. "You mashed my face in to your boobs!"

As soon as he realised what he said, the young man let his head drop in shame, expecting to be scolded by someone.

"So she does that you too?" He heard Monica ask, sounding a little bit relieved at the fact, which surprised Ciaran as he turned his head to look at her in confusion before she explained. "She likes to do it to people that she finds cute. Or are just shorter than her. Right, Anya?"

The sound of a camera shutter clicking rapidly filled the air, startling Ciaran as he looked at the final, and possibly the strangest person of the group (which was saying something).

"Recorded." The very young, light pink-haired girl said in a flat, monotone voice. She had her hair done up in a double ponytail, while a pair of short bangs framed her face, revealing that she had blood red eyes. Combined with her outfit, which seemed to consist of a black tube-top which covered her entire chest and neck, save for her arms, worn underneath a white tailcoat. Lower down, she wore the most literal example of a mini-skirt Ciaran had ever seen, coupled with pink thigh-high pink garter socks and a pair of black knee-high boots completed the outfit.

She couldn't have been more that fourteen or fifteen, and to be honest: that was just plain weird.

"Ah, let me introduce you!" Gino said, moving to stand behind the young girl, putting his hands on her shoulders before leaning down slightly, so his chin was just level with the tops of her ponytails. "This is Anya Alstreim, the Knight of Six. Cutie, isn't she?

Ciaran didn't know what to say, so he just bowed his head in greeting. "My lady."

The young Knight stared at the Briton for a few seconds, blinking once, then twice before she spoke. "You don't look like much."

He really had no idea what to say to that. Well, no, he did. It's just that the things he could say were not the sort of things that could be said in the company of nobility.

Luckily, Nonette managed to sense the mood and decided to take action. "Now, come on, Anya. You can't say anything about looks." She shot a pointed look at Anya, who for her part just simply looked blankly at the older woman before returning her attention to her camera phone. "Besides, what are you guys doing here?"

"Oh, did you forget?" Gino said, happily as he raised himself back to his full height with a broad smile on his face before moving to stand behind Monica, putting his hand on her shoulders. "It just so happens that it's a certain someone's birthday, and we're heading over to San Francisco to celebrate!"

The look that came to the Knight of Nine's face could only be described as unbridled joy at the news, before she practically lunged at the blonde haired girl then wrapping her arms around her. "Why didn't you tell me, Monica? How old does that make you now?"

The blonde haired girl showed obvious reluctance to answer Nonette's question, but she ended up stammering out the answer anyway. "E-eighteen."

This caused a squeal of delight from the older woman as she tightened her embrace. "Perfect! That means you and I... can have some serious fun."

The last part of Nonette's sentence was said a with the sort of sultriness that somehow put a chill down Ciaran's spine. And it seemed to have the worst affect on Monica, who tried to beat a hasty retreat away from the Knight of Nine. 'Tried' being the optimum word, as Nonette had a tighter hold on her than she had thought. This resulted in the older woman holding Monica in a manner similar to a young child holding an adult cat, with Nonette's arms wrapped across her chest under her armpits so her arms stuck out in front of her.

At another point in time, Ciaran would have joined in the laughing that ensued from the Knight of Twelve's predicament, but his lack of sleep made him just look at the scene with dead eyed confusion.

"Something wrong, Ciaran?" Darlton asked, knocking against the young man's shoulder gently.

In reply, Ciaran pinched the bridge of his nose as he wiped his fingers across his eyes and stifled a yawn. "I'm just tired, sir. The coffee's done jack-shit for me."

Moving towards a nearby waste bin, the Briton let the cup fall from his hands in to the bin receptacle below before turning back to look at the scarred general.

"Any other way to keep you from falling asleep?" Darlton asked in a low voice as to avoid too much attention from the others.

"Reading something generally helps. Maybe I'll find a book-store or something." Ciaran replied after a few seconds pause, looking around him for the most likely location of their being a shop that sold books.

"Down the corridor, first right." Darlton said, gesturing down the same hall that the three junior Knights of the Round came from.

The young man nodded his thanks, then threw the general a quick salute, before making his way towards the corridor. Along the way, he realised how bad his sleep deprived state was as, not paying attention to where he was going, he accidentally shoulder-checked, or rather elbow-checked, the Knight of Six, making her cry out mutely in surprise.

"Oh crap!" Ciaran said quietly as he bent down nearer the girl he had accidentally bumped in to, not wanting to draw too much attention to the fact that he had inadvertently hit the young Anya. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." The pink-haired girl said, rubbing her arm in that reflex action nearly everyone seems to do when they suffer an impact on their arm, even as she still held her camera-device in her other hand. "Where are you going?"

"Just going to see about buying a book or something." Ciaran replied simply, shrugging his shoulders.

"All right then." The girl said as she closed the screen of her device and placed in a pocket at the back of her jacket.

Seeing that he had obviously not done any major damage to the young girl and also seeing that no-one had seen what happened, Ciaran stood back upright and began walking down the corridor.

---

Sitting inside the mind of the young Knight of Six, the disembodied spirit of the late Empress of Britannia, Marianne vi Britannia, let a smile come to her face, well, technically Anya's face, as she watched the British-born captain walk away from the group.

So this was the man that had gotten V.V.'s knickers in a bunch. Anya was right; he really didn't look like much. He looked very much like he had just dragged himself out of bed, at least with regards to his hair. The rest of his outfit was neat and tidy, she had to give him that. It definitely proved that he was one of Cornelia's guards, even if the maroon outfit wasn't a dead give-away.

But looking at him as she watching him walk away, Marianne couldn't figure out what had gotten VV worried enough to bring it up with Charles.

And yet, looking at the young man moving in to the busier part of the station, the soul of the deceased Empress definitely felt something... odd about him. She just couldn't place her finger on it.

"Are you all right, Lady Alstreim?" The tawny-skinned and silver-haired woman asked, a look of quiet concern on her face. Oh, what was her name again? Vivian? Victoria? Villetta!

"I'm fine, Lady Villetta." The young girl replied, Marianne having long mastered the ability to achieve mastery of the young girl's voice. "I'm just going to go use the bathroom."

The older female didn't question the young Knight, merely nodding her head before Anya left the group, travelling down the corridor that connected the VIP section to the main concourse, heading towards the various shops in the train station, trying to find the Briton. Luckily, it didn't take long. His military outfit made him stick out like a sore thumb in the midst of the various civilian outfits in the station. He was standing in front of a small book kiosk, letting his eyes roam over the numerous book titles on display.

"Captain Forsyth." Marianne simply said, taking the man by surprise as he jumped a little bit before spinning around to look behind him, then looking down as he realised who was talking to him.

"Oh, Lady Anya. Hello." He said, bowing his head. "Were you following me?"

Anya shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. "Maybe. I didn't want to stick around listening to Gino and Nonette talking about parties."

Forsyth nodded his head in understanding. "I hear that. Nonette's a good friend of mine, in fact I'd say she's like a sister to me, but damn, she cannot half waffle on about nothing."

That took Marianne by surprise, the blood-red eyes opening wide slightly. Only one other person, apart from Nonette, had ever spoken that bluntly around her, and that was that mad bastard Luciano. And yet, there was no hint of annoyance in his voice.

"That was bluntly put." She said, quickly getting over her shock. It filled the older woman's soul with joy to see the man realise what he had just said, his face taking on a slight shade of red as he realised what he had just said and to whom.

"Ah, sorry. Neither Nonette or Dorothea really bother with that sort of etiquette around me, so I... kind of forget."

The giggle that came from Anya was not something that she would normally do, but when Marianne was in control, it happened more often than not.

"It's all right." Anya said, waving a hand slightly. "I'll pretend it didn't happen. So, are you looking for any book in particular?" The small Knight moved closer to the book stand, her own eyes looking over the numerous titles and covers.

Getting over his initial shock, Forsyth turned back to resume his perusing of books on display. "Well... anything with a good plot really. Although anything to do with military or history is a plus for me."

Marianne nodded Anya's head as she took in the man's answer. Looking out of the corner of her eye, she looked the man up and down before her eyes settled on what was attached to his belt at his right hip. The brown leather holster and white ivory pistol grip stuck out sharply against his trousers.

"Bit of a faux pas, isn't it?" The Knight of Six asked, letting her eyes linger on the weapon openly on display. "Bringing a weapon in to a crowded area?"

Quickly tacking on to Anya's words, Captain Forsyth turned his head to look at the diminutive Knight. They simply stared at each other before a smile spread across the man's lips. "'Walk softly, and carry a bit stick' as my granddad used to say."

Marianne looked at the man sceptically as she digested his words. So, he was a member of the old order; those whose minds only cared about violence. Granted, it should have been obvious since he was with her daughter-in-law's Royal Guard, but still.

"Do you not think it's wrong? To kill people?" Anya asked, turning her attention to the books in front of her.

"Oh, it's wrong, all right." He replied, catching her by surprise. "It's one of the worst sins imaginable."

Okay, so that was not what Marianne had expected to hear, but it filled her with a bit of hope as he continued talking. "War is a hell, but it's a hell that we make for ourselves, often times for the best cause."

That certainly intrigued the woman. "And what cause is that?"

"Peace, of course." Captain Forsyth said bluntly, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

Anya arched an eyebrow at what he said, obviously not expecting him to say that. "That... isn't that an oxymoron? Fighting to bring peace?"

The man simply shrugged in reply. "That's just the way we humans are. It's the duality of man: we want peace, but we're willing to fight for it."

The diminutive woman looked at the man again, mulling over what he had said in her mind. It was admittedly quite rare to hear anyone talk like that in the higher circles of Britannian society. But then again; this man was British and he was a soldier, so it would make some sense that he would hold a differing opinion to the higher ups.

Maybe... could she?

It was worth a shot.

"Captain, can I ask you something?" She asked.

"Of course." The man replied, even as he picked up a book from the row of shelves in front of him and turned it over to the look at the rear cover blurb.

"Well... if you knew someone who was able to, or claimed they were able to, make all fighting in the world stop, would you join them?" She asked innocently, like she was asking him how she'd look in a dress (back when Marianne had an actual figure to speak of. God, how she missed her figure).

Looking up from the book in his hands to look at the Knight of Six, Captain Forsyth's eyebrows furrowed in confusion before a disbelieving smile came to his face and he chuckled slightly. That made Anya arc an eyebrow at him.

"You're not the first person to ask me that. And my answer in reply is: how would they go about making peace? Like, is this person really seeking peace or are they just doing this for their own personal gain?"

The pink-haired Knight furrowed her eyebrows at the man beside her, as he continued speaking, his voice taking on a more darker tone.

"I've seen too many people masquerade as freedom fighters, then they turn around and become the same tyrants they sought to get rid of. So my response to your question? Not a fucking chance."

Marianne really should have seen that coming, but she had to fight against the urge to laugh at what the man had said. Oh, how she missed the candour of the common people.

"Language, sir!" The shop owner said, looking up from what he was doing behind the shop's counter in shock.

"Sorry, sorry." The captain said, putting his hands up defensively, before handing the book to the proprietor. "I'll take this please."

The older man behind the counter shot the officer a dirty look but took the book anyway before putting it through the scanner. Safely inside Anya's mind, Marianne shook her head in annoyance. Not at the young man's words, but at the fact that he had obviously had a conversation with C.C. about the same topic and she hadn't bothered to tell her. Sneaky cow...

"That'll be eight-ninety-nine, sir." The shopkeeper said, holding a hand out, in to which the officer put a ten pound note. After taking the note, the man behind the counter quickly tilled up the cash in the machine before handing the change back to the captain, along with his purchase inside a small paper bag. "Enjoy your book, sir."

Captain Forsyth nodded his head in thanks as he accepted the book before looking down at the small Knight of Six beside him. "Is there anything you want to get, my lady?"

Anya shook her head. "No. There's nothing that catches my fancy. What did you get?"

Opening the bag a bit wider, the Briton reached in to it and pulled out the book, showing the cover: a white, snowy landscape with a discarded and snow covered musket and sabre with the title written in blocky script: "Retreat From Russia: Napoleon's Folly" prompting Anya to nod her head. Both Marianne and the young girl had read the book before, so they knew the details of it.

"Good choice." She simply said.

The sound of rapid footsteps reached her ears, making her turn around. Behind her, she saw the tawny-skinned woman from before running up to them, a slight look of worry on her face.

"Ciaran!" Villetta called out, making the young captain turn around in surprise. "There you are!"

"What's up, Villetta?" The man asked, looking at the woman.

"Didn't you hear the announcement? The train is going to be here in five minutes. Let's go!"

A look of shock came to both Anya's and Captain Forsyth's face as they realised they had run out of time, the young man definitely more-so.

"Oh crap." He muttered to himself as he quickly stuffed his book back in to the bag before looking down at the Knight of Six. "I'm sorry, but I have to run, Lady Anya."

"Of course, of course." Anya said. "I'll hopefully see you again."

With that, Captain Forsyth quickly jogged to beside Villetta, who also began jogging back to the waiting area for the train, their conversation lost in the hustle and bustle of the station terminal. Watching their forms receded in to the crowds, Marianne watched through Anya's eyes before she slunk back in to the young girl's subconscious mind.

Inside the small area of the brain that the former Empress had set up for herself, Marianne began thinking back over what had happened. The man was obviously strong-willed. The fact that he had reacted so strongly to her question was a definite indicator that he was not some faceless peon. Plus the fact he was an officer in her daughter-in-law's Royal Guard showed that he had strong mental strength. That was doubly true if he knew Nonette well.

So getting him in to the Geass Order was out of the question. They couldn't have someone who was potentially a loose cannon in their organization.

But that still bought up the most important question: what was there about this guy that had gotten VV so pissy? The most she got from the guy was that he just felt a little... well, just weird. It was hard for to place why Marianne felt weird around him, but she definitely felt some strange about the Briton. She would have to talk to Charles about it.

At the same time, in the conscious world, Anya's mind came racing back to the front. Blinking her eyes on confusion, the diminutive Knight of Six looked around herself in confusion. She remembered being at the VIP section of the train station, then the next she was standing in front of a book kiosk.

"Not again." She mumbled to herself. Another blackout. And just when she had gotten a handle on them too.

Quickly digging in the pocket at the back of her jacket, she pulled out her camera and flipped open the screen to look at the most current photo she took. The image showed Gino and Monica (she easily remembered that: they had gotten off the high speed train from Pendragon to Sacramento for Monica's birthday) standing in front of a man in the uniform of Cornelia's Royal Guard, Ciaran was his name, while behind them stood Nonette, General Darlton and... what was her name again? Villetta.

Pressing a quick sequence of buttons, Anya brought up the information for the photo, showing that it had been taken just a little over five minutes ago. And she definitely remembered meeting all of those people, so that was a good sign.

What else could she remember?

She remembered... she remembered Nonette messing around with Monica again, then Ciaran accidentally bumped in to her on his way out of the VIP section then... she was here.

That was the most annoying thing about these blackouts: there seemed to be no particular incentive for them to happen. They happened at random events and times, and Anya could find no reason as to why they occurred at all.

"Anya? Anya, where are you?" She heard Gino's voice calling out for her. Turning around, the Knight of Six's eyes scanned the crowd quickly until she saw Gino's blonde mop of hair bobbing around, his head looking this way and that to find her.

True to form, Gino quickly found her, moving through the crowds to stand in front of her.

"There you are, Anya." He said, gleeful relief evident in his voice. "Are you all right? We were worried when you didn't come back with Captain Forsyth and Villetta."

"All right." Anya said flatly, looking back down at her phone as she began organizing her most recent photo.

The feeling of a hand being put on her head made her stop in her efforts. Looking up, she saw Gino staring at her, his face nearly lever with hers as he knelt down to look at her, concern clear in his normally joyful bright blue eyes.

"Did you have another blackout?" He asked softly, using the same phrase Anya used.

Looking back down at her phone, the only thing she could do was nod her head, earning a sigh from Gino.

"Gah, and we were doing so well with it, too." The older boy lamented, sounding genuinely upset at the news.

Anya let a thin smile come to her lips, even as she continued sorting her photos. It was probably that he was closer to her age than anyone else she knew, but Gino took her problem in stride. All of the older nobles saw it as a liability and a sign of weakness. Yet he didn't mind. He cared about her when so many others saw it as the young girl merely wanting to get attention. It seemed that is was only Gino, and also Monica as well, that saw Anya's blackouts for the problem they really were, and they both tried their hardest to help her out.

"Can you figure out what caused it?" Gino asked, earning a shake of her head from Anya.

"No. Not yet."

The blonde boy nodded his head in understanding before pushing himself to stand on his feet, letting out a sigh as moved to his full height. "Well, we'll figure it out soon enough. Come on, let's head back. Monica's waiting for us."

Giving one last look at her camera, Anya nodded her head before shutting the device and pocketing it. "All right then."

Soon, the pair were walking together through the crowded train terminal.

---

Tugging at the collar of his new uniform, Sergeant-Major Nicolas Reynolds tried his best to remain calm as he stood outside the entrance of the commander's office at Sacramento Air Force Base. The heat, settling in the high twenties, was normal for late summer in California, especially so in the Sacramento area, but Reynolds had been in worse heat.

Looking to his side, he saw the form of his immediate superior, Lieutenant Nathaniel Fick, standing at an apprehensive version of parade rest, his hands behind his back even as he swayed gently on his feet in a nervous habit.

Like Reynolds, Fick was dressed in the new uniform Alpha company of the 200th Imperial Princess' Pathfinders were issued with for their new roles; woodland brush-stroke camouflage consisting of black, brown and tan strokes over a green base. The man had to admit that it was a bit of a change. Britannian military doctrine heavily favoured rapid strikes by mechanized and armoured infantry supported by close air support and Knightmares. In those sorts of blitzkrieg assaults, camouflage was considered unnecessary. Although it would be wrong to say that some units in the Britannian armed forces went without camouflage. The best examples being the Special Air Service, Special Boat Service, the Pathfinder battalions and the Imperial Marine Commandos. Even the Rifles, the first regiment to use rifled muskets, still retained their simple dark green uniforms as camouflage.

It made sense for the infantry to wear the uniforms, sure, but Reynolds still wasn't really sure why the man standing across from him, wearing the spring green beret of the Britannian Army Air Corps, was wearing the same uniform.

"Any word on when General Darlton's party is coming in, Mr Fick?" The man, Lieutenant Gregor Walker, Reynolds reminded himself, asked, shifting his arms to cross over his chest. Like the sergeant-major, he was a tall man, but more lithe, with a thinner face which was pockmarked by acne scars that lined the upper part of his cheeks from when he was younger. Ginger haired and green eyed, the man was habitual frowner, but he did the job well, of that there was not doubt.

Pulling the cuff of the sleeve on his left arm back, Lieutenant Fick looked at his watch. "They should be here in five minutes."

Fick was a relatively new officer, one of the latest batch to come from Dartmouth Imperial Officer's Academy. He had served with Princess Cornelia's 72nd Armoured Infantry Division in the conquest of Area 18, acting as force reconnaissance for the main invasion before being brought over to Area 11 to bolster the former island nation's defence force. He was young and stood a few inches shorter than Reynolds and with a slightly thinner build. His hair was a light-brown colour, while his light green eyes, framed in a round, boyish face without a hint of facial hair which, funnily enough, made him look younger than Captain Forsyth, even though he was twenty-five to the captain's twenty-one.

But that was the Britannian military for you. Between the purchase of commissions by nobles and the incredibly rare battlefield commissions, it was possible to have a captain who was only in his mid-twenties giving commands to sergeants who were almost twice their age.

"Feeling nervous, Gregor?" Fick asked, shooting the army aviator a small smile.

In reply, the other man simply shrugged, although it made Reynolds smile at how flat the gesture was. "I just want to find out what all of the secrecy is for. That's all, Nate."

Removing his dark blue beret, Reynolds ran his hand through his hair before replacing the headgear. Out of the three people present in the foyer of the base commander's office, the sergeant-major was the only one who had been made privy to the plans, in complete departure from standard military procedure, and it made the man feel very nervous as he had been sworn to secrecy. On order's of the Second Princess no-less.

Another small smile came to Fick's lips. "Don't worry, Gregor. It'll be worth the secrecy. I'm assured of this."

The sergeant-major chuckled lightly at the lieutenant's faith.

The sound of a vehicle pulling up outside the building caused the three officers to stop talking and stand ready to move to attention. Looking past the glass door, Reynolds saw the form of a dark green transport Jeep idled outside the building, it's doors opening as four passengers exited the vehicle, two men and two women.

"Here we go, gentlemen." Reynolds said as Lieutenant Walker moved to stand next to him and Fick.

They watched Captain Forsyth, dressed in the same maroon uniform as General Darlton, opened the door and held it open to let the general and Lieutenant Villetta through the door, followed by the Lady Knight of Nine.

"This is taking a weird turn all ready." Walker said flatly as he saw the group enter the foyer and come up to stand in front of the little group.

"General Darlton, sir." Lieutenant Fick said, standing smartly to attention with Walker and Reynolds before saluting the tall scarred man.

"At ease, gentlemen." Darlton said, returning the salute, before smile softly at the two lieutenants. "So, apart from Sergeant-Major Reynolds, do you two know why you're here?"

"No, general." The army aviator replied, shaking his head, while to his side Lieutenant Fick shook his head as well.

"All right then." Darlton said, before turning to look at the youngest officer behind him. "Sergeant-Major Reynolds already knows who this man is, but let me introduce the both of you to the mastermind of this whole idea; Captain Ciaran Forsyth."

The young man stepped forward as the three Britannian officers raised their hands to their heads in salute before the captain did the same, then he began shaking the hands of the two lieutenants as they introduced themselves to him.

When he moved in front of him, Reynolds couldn't help the chuckle that came to his throat as he looked at Ciaran; he looked incredibly haggard, even though some attempt was made to freshen himself up, although it did very little to make him look better.

"I don't mean to be rude, sir, but you look like shit." Reynolds said, trying and failing to keep the laughter out of his voice.

In reply, Captain Forsyth only shrugged before he spoke. "I have been up for nearly thirty hours now, and have also had to put up with General Darlton's snoring. So you're excused for making that statement, sergeant-major."

"You're never going to let that go, are you, Ciaran?" The general said with a sigh before suddenly remembering. "Oh. I also forgot to introduce you to Ciaran's second-in-command, Lieutenant Villetta Nu."

Stepping forward, the tawny-skinned woman that Reynolds had met in the captain's office, dressed in the same outfit as she wore yesterday, threw up her right hand in salute as the three officers copied the gesture before they began introducing themselves properly.

"So how long until we meet the base commander?" Darlton asked, looking at Lieutenant Fick. In order of precedence in the Britannian Armed Forces, the Army Air Corps was below the regular Army, having been formed from several squadrons that fought in support of the Britannian invasions of Europe during the Second Euro-Britannian War, formed from aerial observers, glider borne infantry, paratroopers and even special forces. While the glider infantry were eventually phased out and the paratroop battalions were amalgamated in to a separate parachute regiment, their use was minimized to a support role for the regular infantry through direct fire-support and transport.

"We were told ten minutes, sir." The boyish officer said in reply.

"More than enough time." Captain Forsyth said, looking around him at the corridors that lead out from the foyer. "Where's the closest bathroom?"

"I'll show you the way, captain." Reynolds said, gesturing down one of the corridors, motioning for the young man to follow him.

"I'll be back in two minutes." The captain said to Darlton before he began following the tall sergeant-major down the hallway. It didn't take long before the pair reached one of the buildings bathrooms. Entering the room, Reynolds watched as his soon-to-be commanding officer immediately went straight to one of the sinks that lined one of the walls and flipped up the tap to fill the porcelain bowl with cold water. He watched with confused interest as the young man removed his maroon tunic and his under-shirt, leaving him in only his trousers and a t-shirt, before cutting off the tap, having the bowl filled up almost all the way to the overflow with cold water.

"What are you-" Was all Reynolds managed to say before Captain Forsyth quickly and abruptly dunked his head in to the sink, keeping his head under the water for several seconds.

The older man had no idea how to react to what he had just seen. He thought to call out to General Darlton for help while rushing forward to pulling the young man out of the water before the captain brought his head out of the water just as abruptly, taking in a sizeable lungful of air.

"Just what I needed." He said to no-one in particular, shaking water from his head before turning to look at the sergeant-major. "Get me a towel, would you, please?"

That was a benefit of visiting a base commander's offices: they were always better furnished and equipped than regular army offices. Taking a cotton towel of a wall-mounted rack, Reynolds handed it to the young man as he asked the question he had suddenly been dying to ask.

"Sir? What the hell was that?"

"Cold water treatment." The young man said like it was the simplest thing in the world as he dabbed at his face and neck with the towel in his hand before moving to dry off his hair.

It wasn't much of an answer, but looking at him, Reynolds could see that his captain looked just that bit more refreshed, so if it worked for him, he wouldn't fault it.

"Nervous, sir?" Reynolds asked as the young man finished drying his hair and let the towel hang around his neck.

"Just a bit." Came the reply.

Reynolds was not one hundred percent sure what to say at the moment, but looking at the young man, he was suddenly aware of the age difference between the two. Plus, the younger man was currently not wearing his uniform.

"Sir, may I speak freely with you for a few minutes?" He asked as stiffly as one expected of a sergeant-major.

"All right then." Captain Forsyth said with a little bit of reluctance.

"You have nothing to worry about, captain. Your plan won't use any resources that the army won't want to waste, so that's a good thing. You're also going to be using some of the best military operators outside of the special forces in the Britannian army, so you have nothing to fear about picking the wrong men for the job. And finally, you've had this plan backed up by General Darlton, one of the most well-respected generals in the Empire and the Second Princess herself. So what's there to worry about?"

The young man looked at his own reflection in the mirror. From his viewpoint, Reynolds couldn't tell what the look on his face was. It was either nervousness or... outright fear?

"I worry about the execution of it all." He said flatly. "Recent history has not been too kind to me."

"Narita?" Reynolds asked, to which the young man nodded.

"What do you know about it?" The Briton asked, not taking his eyes of his own reflection in the mirror.

"Not that much. I was with the reconnaissance group that cleared the mountainside of the civilians. We left the AO after that, then went on to standby. We only heard abut what happened with the Purists."

The young captain's head dropped at the name, his hands tightening on the sides of the porcelain sink, making Reynold's suck in air through his teeth.

"Now it all makes sense." The sergeant-major said. "Sorry, sir."

"No, it's all right." Captain Forsyth said, shaking his head. "But I'm sure you can understand why I'm not that excited about this whole thing."

Reynolds nodded his head in understanding. He knew that the young man was a good commander. The operation in Kitakyushu proved that; he took the reigns of command easily, and he was a brave officer, there was no doubt about that. But to suffer the loses that he suffered at Narita... no one so young should have had to go through something like that.

"Have you told General Darlton about this?" He asked. Reynolds knew he was overstepping his boundaries as a sergeant-major, but he had to ask.

"Princess Cornelia talked to me about it." The young man said, removing the towel from his neck and letting it sit behind the taps of the sink. "She said she went through the same thing a number of years ago."

Reynolds only nodded his head in understanding. If there was anyone who could talk him out of a potential funk, it was the Goddess of Victory.

"Well... no commander gets away with a perfect record." Reynolds said after a few seconds of silence. "The worst is behind you. Now you can look forward to the best."

Turning his head slightly, a smile on his face, the young man raised an eyebrow at the older man before, chuckling, he said in a sarcastic tone. "Thanks, dad."

Reynolds' eyes opened wide at the comment before he himself began chuckling as well. Neither person said anything, both chuckling too much, even as Captain Forsyth reached in and began draining the sink before making himself more presentable again, replacing his under-shirt and tunic, looking like an officer of the Second Princess' Royal Guard again.

Turning to look at the sergeant-major properly, the captain looked sternly at the taller man. "Let's get going."

Reynolds quickly came down from his chuckling fit, coming back to the parade ground image men of his rank were famous for. "As you say, sir."

Exiting the room, the pair made their way back to the foyer with the other officers and the Knight. As they drew closer, General Darlton smiled up at them.

"Now don't you look better." He said happily. "And just in time too. We'll be going to see the base commander in a few minutes."

"Oh, lovely." The young man said in a deadpan voice.

"Has to be done, Ciaran." The general said, smiling sympathetically at the young officer.

The group fell in to a quiet conversation, the junior officers asking about the flight over from Area 11, the groups run in with the Knights of Three, Six and Twelve then to unseasonably hot weather they were going through in Sacramento right now. It was all just bits of light-hearted banter to pass the time.

That didn't last long however as a middle-aged woman, dressed in the light blue-grey uniform of the Britannian army, complete with knee-length skirt, walked towards the group.

"Brigadier-colonel Thompson is ready to see you now." The woman said, which elicited a weary sigh from General Darlton.

"Something wrong, general?" Lieutenant Fick asked, giving a voice to the confusion on everyone's face.

"Upson Thompson." The scarred general said unhappily before turning to look at the young captain. "Get ready for your first lesson as a unit officer, Ciaran; how to deal with annoying superiors."

Darlton motioned for Villetta, Reynolds and Forsyth to follow him while the two lieutenants and the Lady Knight of Nine stayed where they were. As they walked to their destination, Darlton turned his head motioned for the Briton to walk beside him.

"Ciaran, let me do the talking. Upson's one of the worst officers you could meet, and I meant that in the most literal sense possible. He doesn't like officers who came up from the ranks, he does not like non-nobles and he certainly does not like non-Britannians. And he will make that very obvious."

Reynolds and Villetta both nodded their head at the general's words. The tales about Generals Upson Thompson's arrogance were legendary, as was the fact he was one of the most unpleasant officers to work under.

To the surprise of nearly everyone there, the Briton simply shrugged. "I'll deal with it in my own way, sir. You can trust me on that."

The three officers shared a disbelieving look at the proclamation but didn't say a word as they made their way to the commander's office.

It was a short trip to the room labelled 'base commander's office', with the same woman from before standing outside.

"Brigadier-colonel Upson will see you now." She said before opening the door to let the assembled officers in to the room. Casting a quick glance around the room, Reynolds took in what he saw; it was as one would have expected of an office for a high ranking officer: a large window faced out over the currently quiet parade ground and the other buildings that made up the complex, while letting in copious amounts of natural light. In front of the window sat a large wooden desk, covered in all of the things one would imagine to find in such an important office. To the side of the room, there was an ornate wooden drinks cabinet, although at the moment, it was quite sparse.

Although looking at the man standing in front the window, the sergeant-major had an inkling why.

"General Darlton." Brigadier-colonel Upson Thompson said coldly. The commander was a tall man, the same height of both the general and Reynolds, although he was probably closer to the age of the former than the latter. The man's face definitely showed his age more, with the numerous wrinkles around his eyes, which even his sandy blonde head of hair and beard couldn't detract from. His uniform consisted of a pair of grey trousers tucked in to black jackboots and a forest green, double breasted coatee with gold epaulettes and trim, while a white cravat completed the outfit. In a gloved hand, he held a half-filled scotch glass. "To what do I owe this visit?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Reynolds saw Darlton stiffen his stance slightly, seeming to ignore the insult at not being given the courtesy of a salute, but then again, the man's arrogance was legendary among the rank and file of the Britannian army.

"Brigadier-colonel," The general said flatly, ignoring the man's lack of respect; "I'm sure you know why I'm here."

Thompson took a swig from his shot glass, grimacing at the taste. "I do. You want to use my base as the training ground for this... new unit." The man practically spat out the words. "So... are you going to be the leader of this new force? Or do you have some peon doing the work for you?"

Reynolds felt himself bristle at the brigadier-colonel's attitude. But to his side, it didn't look like Captain Forsyth had any such problems with the older man's words, as he stepped forward and presented himself with a salute. "That would be me, sir. Captain Ciaran Forsyth, of Her Royal Highness, Princess Cornelia's Roy-"

A loud "tch" filled the air, cutting the Briton's speech in half. "Who the hell is this? He's not a noble. He's not even a Britannian."

"He just said." Darlton answered. "Captain Forsyth, captain of Cornelia's Royal Guard. He's also the young man who has put forward the idea for the new doctrine we will be testing out."

Thompson looked at the young man before a sneer came to his face. "Him? He's the person who Cornelia chose for this?"

"I'm the man who created the concept we'll be finalizing here, brigadier-colonel." The young captain said flatly. "It's only obvious that the Second Princess would put me in command of this unit, sir."

The sergeant-major suppressed the smile that came to his face. Captain Forsyth had not let the older man's arrogant nature get to him and focused purely on the actual matter. Although from the look of Thompson's face, the joy was not universally shared.

"That may be so, but the Princess is not here. I am." The older man said icily. "That means I have the final say on what goes on-"

"Brigadier-colonel." Captain Forsyth said, interrupting the older officer. "I am aware that you would b reluctant to let someone as young as me being given command of an experimental unit in your base, and I would too." The noble looked ready to speak, but the captain wouldn't let him as he continued speaking. "But with all due respect, sir, that's not your choice to make. Princess Cornelia has given us an order, and by extension, she has given you one too. And I very much doubt that she would like to hear that her plan to bring peace to an Area of the Empire was stopped because of a senior officer having a hangup over the fact that the commander of the new unit isn't a Britannian. Sir."

Okay, that time, Reynolds definitely couldn't suppress the smirk that came to his face. The captain practically had Brigadier-Colonel Thompson by the balls. No-one in the military could go against an order from the Second Princess. No-one, unless they wanted really piss her off.

Thompson took in a deep inhale of breath before downing the last of the drink in his glass, scowling at the young Briton as he did so. "I cannot go against the orders of the Second Princess. But I will not trust my airbase to the likes of someone like you."

"Upson." Darlton said, looking at the man in front of him. "As a general, I can order you to give us the use of the airbase. I would prefer not to do that."

The air in the room dropped a few degrees as the two senior officers faced each other down, neither one giving ground on their claims. Although it was obvious to anyone that Darlton was in the right here.

Letting out a deep sigh, Thompson turned around to look out of the window, putting his shot glass down on to his desk. "Fine. Just try not to break anything important."

To his side, Reynolds watched as a broad smile spread across Darlton's face before the general nodded his head. "Thank you, Upson."

Beside him, Captain Forsyth pulled a face as he stuck his tongue out at the older man's back, which earned him a small hit to the side of the head from Darlton, who glowered slightly at him in annoyance.

"Thank you, sir." The young man said reluctantly.

Not turning around, the green-uniformed nobleman simply waved his hand in a dismissive gesture, prompting the four officers to exit the room and enter out in to the hallway, where they met the two lieutenants and an expectant Lady Nonette.

"We didn't hear any shouting." The champagne-haired Knight said in a worried tone as the door shut behind them. "Is everything all right?"

In return, General Darlton put a large hand on to Captain Forsyth's shoulder, a smile on his face. "It seems that our young friend here knows how to deal with bullies."

In reply, the Briton just shrugged before the general continued speaking. "Well, since we have kindly been given the use of the base for our new unit, let's get in to our new uniforms. Miss Villetta, you should come with me and the captain to get your new uniforms."

Turning to look at the sergeant-major and the two lieutenants. "You three should get the men together. Once Captain Forsyth and Lieutenant Villetta are in the same uniforms as the rest of us, we'll meet up in the main briefing room. Ten minutes."

"Yes, sir!" The three men replied, standing to attention as they snapped off salutes.

"What about Nonette?" The captain asked.

Reynolds looked at the Knight of Nine then to the general as the man tried to figure out what to do with her.

"It's been a while," Nonette suddenly said, sounding quite thoughtful. "But I think some of the people I used to the Academy with are stationed here. I might see if I can go and track them down."

The scarred general nodded his head at the idea, but Captain Forsyth looked quite sceptical. "Just don't hurt anyone, okay?"

An offended look came to the champagne-haired woman's face. "I am shocked that you would even think of me like that, Ciaran! You know me."

"I do. That's why I said that." The young man said with a very straight face, which earned an incredulous glare from Lady Nonette, which quickly shifted in to a goofy smile.

"Well, all right. I'll be off then." The woman said before turning around walking down the corridor.

"You do know what time we start the briefing at right? In briefing room one?" The captain asked after her.

"Of course!" Nonette yelled out in reply before she disappeared around a corner.

As the form of the Knight of Nine vanished, Lieutenant Fick turned to look at General Darlton. "By your leave, general?"

"You have ten minutes, Mr Fick." The older man said.

Reynolds and two lieutenants threw their hands up to their heads in a salute, which the general copied, prompting the three junior officers to turn and walk down the corridor before heading to the exit.

"Well. This is going to be interesting." Lieutenant Fick said as the trio exited the building and travelled across the parade ground and heading towards the barracks that held the men of Alpha company, specifically Blenheim barracks.

The building was a large piece of architecture, built from white limestone and red bricks in a style reminiscent of post-Flight Britannian architecture, which in itself was a mix of Renaissance-era architecture and the colonial styles brought over to the American continent. It was an enormous building, capable of holding three full regiments of infantrymen. It was the perfect symbol of Britannian military strength: large, imposing and unbreakable.

"Interesting is right, sir." Walker said as Reynolds held the door open for the two lieutenants. "But we'll still have to see how it goes."

As the trio entered through the door, the army aviator turned to look at the older man. "Sergeant-Major, you worked with Captain Forsyth in Area 11. What kind of man is he?"

Closing the door behind him, Reynolds cast his mind back to that night in Kitakyushu. The young man had led the men in to the docks against the corrupt elements of the police and then against the Black Knights when they had appeared unexpectedly. He had lead the men with a skill and zeal that could only come from working under Princess Cornelia and General Darlton.

It was also true that the man had frozen up when he had first killed a man, which was to expected since it was his first time in combat. Yet he didn't let it stop him in carrying on with the mission.

"He doesn't look like it, but he's strong. He is young, yes, but he's a good combat leader." Reynolds said truthfully and earnestly. "I trust him."

Fick and Walker looked at the sergeant-major before they both nodded their heads and continued walking down the corridor. It was a truth in the Britannian, in fact in probably any army, that a sergeant-major was the one of the oldest men in a regiment, so if he said that he trusted an officer, then his word was as good as gold.

But the look of unease still remained on the lieutenant's faces, so Reynolds carried on. "I know you know this, but I have served with him before. He's a front-line commander, the same as any of us, but he's also got brains. He's also from the same, lower class background as myself, so I can easily imagine he'll get on well with the men. Plus, since he's got the ear of General Darlton and the Second Princess, I think that we won't shit-canned any time soon."

That earned a chuckle from the two officers as their fears were abated.

"I'll go get my men together." Walker said, nodding his head to his fellow officer. "I'll see you at the briefing room, Nate."

"The same to you, Gregor." The blonde lieutenant said in reply before the army aviator walked away from the pair of infantrymen until he walked around a corner and disappeared out of sight.

"Shall we get the men together, Mr Fick?" Reynolds asked, to which the younger man nodded his assent to do.

"Do you think that this whole thing will be worth the wait?" Fick asked as the pair of officers walked down the corridor toward the barrack room that held Alpha company before the stopped outside the door of the small corridor that led the rooms. Like many Britannian army barracks, each company was sectioned off in their own area, keeping the men closer together to make it easier for the companies and regiments to be mustered quicker.

Standing outside the door, the sergeant-major thought back on what Captain Forsyth had told him back in Area 11 about the new unit and how it would be operating. And he had to admit: it all sounded fun.

"It'll be more than worth it, sir." The man said, nodding his head and grinning slyly at him. "I'm assured of it."

Fick looked at him in surprise before chuckling.

"I'll hold you to that, sergeant-major." The lieutenant said before he opened the door and yelled out; "Alpha company! Muster up. Platoon sergeants to me!"

The sergeant-major stopped and watched as Fick paced down the corridor, repeating his order for the platoon sergeants to come to him. Almost immediately, three men, dressed in the same woodland camouflage fatigues as himself and Fick, came to stand near the lieutenant to receive their orders.

"I'll get Alpha platoon ready, sir!" Reynolds called out, looking at the junior officer, who nodded in reply, prompting to older man to move towards the closest door.

Opening the door to the room quickly and loudly, the sergeant-major walked down the space between the two rows of beds that held the Alpha platoon of Alpha company of the 200th Imperial Princess' Pathfinders, each one containing one of the twenty-four men that made up the platoon. At the limits of his hearing, the sergeant-major could hear the other platoon sergeants doing the same thing to their platoons.

Even though he was now the company's sergeant-major and could have easily let the platoon sergeant do this task, he chose to do it himself just to keep himself in practice.

"On your feet, you bastards!" He roared as he stalked along the length of the beds. "Get dressed and line up outside the briefing room. Ten minutes! Let's go, ladies. Let's go!"

True to their professionalism, the men all sprang up from their beds, completely disregarding what they were originally doing. Books were put down, chess pieces were left where they sat and electronics were switched off and left on the beds. Like Reynolds, the other soldiers were dressed in the same woodland brush-stroke camouflage uniforms, although some had the jackets removed, which they now quickly donned.

"What's going on, sergeant-major?" One of the soldiers, a tawny-skinned man with black hair and glasses asked as he tucked his jacket in to his trousers.

"You'll find out when you get there, Garza. Now let's go!" Reynolds replied, motioning with his hand to get the men out of the room.

"Sergeant-major." A new voice from behind made the man turn around.

"Brad." Reynolds acknowledged the man with a nod of his head. Sergeant Brad Colbert was a tall man, with short blonde hair, blue eyes, all coupled with a strong Nordic face made him quite a handsome man. Which wasn't readily evident when his face was a blank mask devoid of expression, as it was now, which had earned him the moniker of 'Ice Man'.

"Scuttle-butt says that the reason we're here is because we're forming a new special unit. Any word on that, sergeant-major?" Colbert asked simply.

It was true that only ones that had been made aware of the purpose of the special unit were the captain, General Darlton, Lieutenant Villetta and Reynolds himself. All of the other soldiers had been kept in the dark. Even Lieutenants Fick and Walker were only told that they were going to the Homeland under Princess Cornelia's orders, but that was it. And the sergeant-major had been sworn to secrecy until either of the senior officers fully revealed the unit's purpose.

"You'll find out soon enough, Brad." Reynolds replied diplomatically, deigning not to say anything else to the sergeant.

Luckily, that seemed to mollify Colbert as he simply nodded his head and walked away to do whatever he was to do before the platoon was to be outside the briefing room.

Turning to look down the room, Reynolds yelled out again. "All right! You've got ten minutes. Move like you've got a purpose, ladies!"

It took five minutes.

---

The briefing room was a moderately sized room, about thirty feet in width and twenty five feet in length. All the seats, four rows of seats with connecting, foldable desks, sat on a series of raised platforms that went from the middle of the room to the back, with enough seats to sit an entire company of men with some seats left over. The wall directly facing the seats was filled up with a whiteboard-cum-projector screen, ten feet in length and four feet in height. Standing out against the white surface of the board stood two men in diametrically opposite uniforms: one in a woodland camouflaged uniform was working away with a pen while the other, in a maroon uniform, stood behind the first man quietly.

Watching as Ciaran drew the last part of his diagram on to the whiteboard, Darlton crossed his arms over his chest as took in the picture that the young man was drawing.

"Ciaran, don't take this the wrong way but you are no artist."

Turning from the board to look at the general, pen still held in his fingers, the young man looked at the general in confusion.

"It does the job though, right?" He asked, really unsure why Darlton said what he had said. "Besides, I never said that I was an artist."

The older man inclined his had to the side slightly in understanding as he watched Ciaran continue with his work. It was true that the Briton was certainly no Da Vinci, and yes, it also true that there was no necessity to be an artist when one joined the Britannian Army. Plus, the images that he was drawing; a more detailed depiction of the Fireforce in action, including the position of supplementary troops and equipment, the heights and distances of the aircraft and units, and other things, were made possible because the board was larger and Ciaran had had more time to prepare this time around.

But still, some facts need to be said.

"So, you nervous at all?" Darlton asked as he watched the young man finish up on the drawing of one of the gunships.

"Yeah, I'm nervous." Ciaran said as he capped the pen before turning to look at Darlton. "But, I'm a lot less nervous than I was when I had to give the presentation to you guys yesterday."

The general smiled warmly at the young man as he put down his pen and turned back to look at his work on the board. The seven foot long by three foot high board was almost covered in the numerous bits of information that the soldiers and other officers would need from the young Briton.

Walking forward, Darlton put a hand on Ciaran's shoulder, making the young man jolt a bit.

"I'm proud of you." The general said, nodding his head as he looked over the work.

This earned a confused look from the young man as he turned his head to look at the taller man. "You did just say it yourself, sir: I am no artist."

Darlton chuckled lightly at what Ciaran said. "No, that's not what I mean. I mean, I'm proud of all of this." He gestured to the whole of the board.

"It's not mine though. I'm... I'm just basically repeating what someone else has done." The young man said timidly.

"That may be so, but as you said in your document to myself, Guilford and the Princess, you were only working with the basic concept. And in less than a week, you've been able to refine the parts that you knew in to a usable concept, you incorporated equipment and vehicles that we Britannians have, and then... well, you create all of this." Again, Darlton gesture to the board in front of them, his other hand still remaining on Ciaran's shoulder.

The young man moved his head to the side in the universal manner that all teenagers and young adults knew to do that conveyed the fact that they heard what had been said, but didn't really care for it. Which in turn earned a soft smack to the side of the head from the general.

"You really should stop doubting yourself, Ciaran." Darlton said more softly. "You've done good work here. You should be proud."

The young man looked up at Darlton with the barest hint of a smile on his face before he turned back to looking at the board with a straight face. "I'll feel better when I know that it works, sir."

The general wanted to say something else, but decided against it. If that's what it took to get Ciaran to know that he really was as good as Darlton and the rest knew he could be, then so be it.

"All set?" He asked, moving to take a seat against the side of the room, out of the way of the presentation but still in a way that he could see both the board properly and the rest of the briefing room.

Taking a deep breath, Ciaran closed his eyes, letting the breath out steadily through his nose before opening his eyes. Turning his head to look at the general, he smiled. "I'm ready, sir."

Darlton nodded his head before the young man turned to look at the door, turning smartly on his heels as he stood to attention and called out smartly. "Miss Villetta!"

The door opened as the last syllable left Ciaran's mouth and the general watched as the door opened and the tawny-skinned woman stepped through, standing smartly to attention. "Captain?"

"Are the men assembled?" The young captain asked, earning a small smirk from Darlton. He was certainly fitting himself in to the role quickly.

"Yes, sir." Villetta replied just as smartly. "They are all gathered outside, sir. Officers included."

Ciaran nodded his head. "Good. Bring them in if you please, Miss Villetta."

"Very good, sir." The woman said smartly before about facing and walking to the door, then calling out to the men outside. "Company, fall in!"

More quietly than it would have been possible for over thirty men to accomplish, the men of the new unit filed in to the room, quickly filling the seats before sitting upright, their eyes fixed straight on the board and the young man standing in front of it.

Once everyone was seated and the lieutenant had closed and stood to side of the door, Darlton watched as Ciaran folded his hands behind his back and looked at the men in the room. "At ease, everyone."

The men relaxed gently in their seats, some moving to rest their arms against the tables while others, the non-commissioned officers and the two lieutenants, Darlton noted, remained sitting upright as the Briton began speaking.

"Before we begin, I am aware that apart from Sergeant-Major Reynolds, you have all been kept in the dark as to your reason for coming here." He said, letting his eyes scan the crowd. "So I won't bullshit you. I'll tell you the reason: the Second Princess, Cornelia li Britannia, has charged me with creating a new military unit to carry out a new military doctrine I have developed, one that will be capable of taking the fight to the enemy in Area 11."

Some subdued muttering came up from the seats, some soldiers turning to each other in surprise, while others leaned in closer, wanting to hear more.

"To Mister Fick and Mister Walker, I apologise for the secrecy." Ciaran continued, making Darlton smile softly. "It was necessary, and also mandated so by the Princess."

Turning his head slightly, the scarred general eyed the two junior officers as they looked at each other before nodding their heads.

"We understand, Captain Forsyth." Lieutenant Fick said, nodding his head gently. "Although we do hope that it was worth it."

"It will." The young man flashed a quick grin. "I promise you."

The general couldn't help but chuckle at Ciaran's words, the quiet baritone drawing a few looks from the men seated closest to him, although they quickly turned back to look at the captain as he moved towards the board.

"Right then," the young man began as he picked up a small laser pointer from below the whiteboard. "As you can see, the name of the new doctrine will be called-"

The sound of the door opening interrupted Ciaran mid-sentence as he and rest of the room turned their heads to see the distinctive champagne-coloured hair of the Knight of Nine poking her head through the gap she had created.

"Am I late?" Nonette asked innocently.

"By about a minute." Darlton said, waving his hand for the woman to enter.

"Sorry." The Knight of Nine said as she trotted over from the door and in to the space in the middle. "But I did run in to someone who I used to be in my old unit and we got to talking about all the stuff we did and-"

"Nonette, Nonette?" Ciaran said interrupting her, holding up his hands to stop her talking. "I just started the briefing. Can I please carry on?"

"But I-"

"Nonette," The young man said again, sounding more stern than before. "I know you want to talk about your friend, but I have to get this done. Understand? So please: sit down!"

From his angle, Darlton couldn't see the reaction on Nonette's face, but from the way she let her hands fall to her sides and the way her head slumped down slightly that the look the young man had given her was not a nice one.

Cowed in to submission, the Knight of Nine moved away from the Briton and came to sit down on the chair next to Darlton, putting one hand over another in a demure fashion. The general couldn't help but look at the woman beside him in surprise.

Looking at the young man, he saw that Ciaran didn't expect the result that came from him talking to the champagne-haired Knight.

"Nonette, I'm sorry." He said honestly, making her look up at him. "But you know I've not had a lot of sleep. So I'm sorry I snapped at you."

Out of the corner of his eye, Darlton saw Nonette look up at the young man silently before nodding her head, a tender smile on her face.

In turn, Ciaran nodded his head with a smile of his own, which quickly fell as he turned back to look at the assembled soldiers and spoke in a stern voice."I will put it bluntly: I have had little sleep and I am fucking shattered, and I very much would like to get this out of the way as quickly as possibly and have a nap. So I will NOT tolerate anyone attempting to make this briefing last longer than I intend it to. Is that understood?"

"Sir, yes, sir!" The assembled men replied, making Darlton chuckle softly.

Seemingly satisfied, Ciaran got the briefing got under way quickly, after both the general and the captain were sure that no-one else would interrupt them. Since it was essentially the censored version of the talk that the young man had given in Princess Cornelia's office a few days ago, Ciaran didn't need to change much of the information that he presented; the only real thing he had to change was that instead of a tried and tested tactic, it was merely a concept. Darlton didn't really need to tune in to what he was saying.

Instead, the scarred general merely listened to the young officer's words, seeing how he was presenting the information. Darlton was pleased to see that Ciaran had overcome any shyness he originally had and was presenting the information in clear and concise phrases as he referenced parts shown and not shown on the board. Looking at the men seated in the room, Darlton smiled at seeing how so many of them watched in rapt attention, while the NCOs were busy writing down on pieces of paper any and all information that the young man was giving them. Even Nonette was in rapt attention at what he was saying.

It took three quarters of an hour to go through the whole briefing before Ciaran finished his presentation, clicking the laser pointer off and setting it down below the whiteboard and turning to look at the assembled soldiers.

"Any questions?" He asked, setting his arms behind his back and casting his eyes across the room.

'Now is the true test.' Darlton thought to himself when he saw Walker's hand go up.

"Lieutenant Walker?" Ciaran said, pointing at the man who promptly stood up from his seat.

"Captain, I'm sure you're aware that the insurgency in Area 11 is mainly operating in an urban environment, no?" The ginger-haired officer asked.

"I am aware, lieutenant." The young man said, nodding his head.

"So, doesn't this sort of tactic favour more open environments?"

Darlton watched as Ciaran nodded his head. "That may be true. But as I have said, this is merely a concept; a work in progress, if you will. I'm sure that the situation in Area 11 will allow us to refine the Fireforce as necessity permits."

The man nodded his head before he spoke again. "Another question: why are we all wearing woodland fatigues, instead of the grey uniforms?"

Putting his hands behind his back, Ciaran replied; "Well, for starters; a single piece colour uniform is a poor attempt at camouflage, especially in modern combat zones, since we will never be in an area where anything is a uniform colour, so a flat coloured uniform would put us at a disadvantage. "Secondly; a camouflaged uniform will allow us to destroy the opposing force better. Since they will be reacting to us in a disorientated manner, a camouflaged uniform will hinder their attempts to retaliate. Does that answer your question?"

Sated, Lieutenant Walker nodded his head and sat down, as another hand shot up, this time of a blonde haired man bearing a sergeant's stripes and a Nordic face.

"Name and rank." Ciaran said, nodding his head towards the man. To anyone else, it would have sounded like any other order, but to Darlton's ears, it was an attempt to get the know the men Ciaran would be working with.

The non-commissioned officer stood up smartly. "Brad Colbert, Sergeant, sir. Captain, am I to understand that when we assault an enemy encampment, such as this one," he gestured to the board; "that we will be operating solely out of the helicopters? Isn't that a bit risky?"

"If I was a more hot-blooded individual, I'd say that 'fortune favours the bold'. But I'm not, so I won't." Ciaran replied honestly. "What I will say, is that we will be attacking with the three prime virtues that any offensive operation needs: overwhelming fire-power, speed and, above all, surprise. I mean, come on. Who expects to be attacked by a helicopter in this day and age?"

A ripple of laughter rolled through the room, making Darlton smile again, before Sergeant Colbert sat down.

"Any more questions?" Ciaran asked, clapping his hands gently together.

A few seconds went by before another hand went up, prompting the Briton to point to the owner of the hand. In turn, a man with a moderately thick moustache, oval face, brown hair and a very distinctive Texan drawl stood up and began speaking. "Larry Patrick, sir. Sergeant. Sir, you didn't say anything about Knightmares or other vehicles. Will, they be used or not, sir?"

Turning his head slightly, the young man shot a look at Darlton which the older man couldn't have missed, and it simply said: "We did not plan for this."

Luckily, Ciaran was faster on the draw.

"It is true that I have not included the use of Knightmare frames in my concept, purely because I was unsure of how they could be used without having to completely retrofit any of the Valkyrs. And due to the nature of the conflict in Area 11, I'm sure you could appreciate how quickly the Second Princess wanted us to get this plan tested and put in to operation as soon as possible."

Looking across, Darlton saw Sergeant Patrick nod his head as the captain continued speaking.

"However, with the help of General Darlton, we will be able to devise a way to implement Knightmare frames as mobile heavy support. And, also rest assured on the fact that, right as I speak, engineers in Area 11 are currently working on a vehicle that will be able to aid us in future operations."

Darlton's dark eyes flicked from the Briton to Sergeant Patrick, waiting for a response. Instead, the sergeant just nodded his head and sat back down.

"Any other questions?" Ciaran asked, looking around.

To no real surprise, it was Lieutenant Fick who stood up. "Captain, am I to assume that Lady Enneagram will be taking part in the training for this tactic?"

At the sound of her name being mentioned, Nonette's head perked up and she looked around in surprise. "What? Me?"

"You are the only 'Lady Enneagram' here..." Darlton mumbled under his breath, earning a small glare from the woman beside him.

"Lady Enneagram will be merely observing." Ciaran said out loud, looking directly a Fick. "However, due to her station as a Knight of the Round, she can participate in the training if the mood strikes her."

Subduing the bought of laughter that came to his throat, Darlton shook his head as he remembered the little incident of Ciaran's training in a Knightmare. To his side, the champagne-haired woman shot the general a dirty look at the obvious reference to her part in the whole fiasco.

Fick sat back down, prompting Ciaran to ask again if there were any more questions to be asked. When none were forthcoming, the young man nodded his head with a smile.

"Good. Now, I did originally plan for us to start with a kit inspection and weapons training session, just so I could see how well you all operated, along with giving you all a chance to get acquainted with the Valkyrs, but that was predicated on me having a few more hours sleep." To further prove his point, Ciaran let out a low yawn as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sorry. But as you can see, I am no in any real state to use a firearm. So instead, we'll take a short break, giving me time to catch up on some sleep, then we'll have lunch and after that, we'll get started on the training. Sound good?"

A collection of appreciative murmurs went up in reply.

"All right then." Darlton said, standing up to his full height. "Lieutenant Walker, Lieutenant Fick. Your men have a few hours free. Might I suggest that you take the time to study the particulars of the Fireforce, and also liaison with Lieutenant Villetta or myself if you have any questions."

"Yes, sir!" The two men and Villetta replied in unison.

"Good. Oh, before we leave, I know that Captain Forsyth has not told you the name of our new unit." Looking to his side, Darlton watched as the Briton arced an eyebrow at him. "Well, that's simply because he has not been informed as to the name. As the Second Princess was the one who decreed that this unit be put together, then she be the one to give it a name."

Reaching in to one of his trouser pockets, the general took out a small folded piece of card as all the other occupants of the room watched in rapt attention. Instead of opening it right there, he handed it to Ciaran. "Since you'll be the commander, it's only fair that you be the one to open open it."

Taking the paper a bit more hesitantly that he would have expected, the young man opened it up and read the letters on the paper loud enough for the room to hear. "332 Light Infantry Battalion... Warhounds?"

Confused muttering when up from the collected soldiers as Darlton leant down slightly to speak closer to Ciaran's ear. "We got the idea from that video we got sent from Zero when you were held captive."

"Ah." The young man said, as he realised what the general was talking about, before he folded the paper back in half and put in one of his pockets. "Well, there we go, folks. We now have a name. Let's live up to it."

A number of subdued affirmations came from the men before Ciaran told them they were dismissed, prompting the young man, Darlton, Nonette and Villetta to exit the room.

Outside in the hallway, the Knight of Nine bumped her fist against the top of the Briton's shoulder in a friendly gesture. "Good job, Ciaran! You did a good job in there."

"She's right, Ciaran." Villetta said, turning to look at the young man. "For someone running on as little sleep as you did, you did very well."

"If you say so." The Briton said, sounding like the lack of sleep was finally catching up with him, eliciting a chuckle from Darlton.

"Okay, here's what we're going to do," The general began. "I'm going to take Ciaran somewhere were he can sleep, Villetta will stay to liaison with the other officers, and Nonette will try and keep herself as occupied as possible."

"You can count on it!" Nonette said cheerfully, while Villetta simply nodded her head and moved back to enter the room.

"Come on, Ciaran. Let's go." The general said, gently pushing the young man down the hall towards their destination, as the Knight of Nine left them to enter back in to the room.

As they walked down the hall, Ciaran looked up at the taller man. "Did I do well?"

"You did very well, lad." The general said, smiling. "I said it before; you've done good work here, and you should be proud."

Ciaran didn't say anything. He only smiled back at the general.

"Come on. Let's find somewhere were you can lie down." Darlton said warmly.

It didn't take long for them to find such a place. The sight of one of the top generals of them Britannian armed forces walking down the corridor helped clear the way quickly, and soon the two found themselves in a the officer's break-room. Currently, it was nearly empty, only with a few junior officers sitting and watching TV, so Darlton and Ciaran entered in quietly. Spying one of the large couches near the back, the older man pointing the furniture out to his companion.

Seemingly in a daze, Ciaran drifted towards the closest couch before sitting down and falling down on to his side, his head hitting one of the cushions softly as a satisfied sigh left his mouth.

"This is nice." He said dreamily, his eyes flickering shut as his breathing became regular.

"I'll wake you up before we go for lunch. How does that sound?" Darlton asked the young man. But looking at the slumped body, he saw that it didn't make much of a difference. Ciaran was completely asleep. So he did the only thing he could do: he loosened the laces on the young man's boots and lifted his legs on to the couch so he was fully lying on it.

"Get some sleep, son." The scarred general said, before leaving the Briton to doze softly while he went and joined the two junior officers watching TV.

---

At the same time, walking in to the hotel suite that the three Knights of the Round had rented in the Hilton Hotel for their short say in San Francisco for Monica's eighteenth birthday, Anya Alstreim closed the door behind her before setting the lock. She had said that she was feeling quite tired from the journey from Pendragon to the city so wanted to take a nap.

To the young girl, it was a truth as she did feel very lethargic and just generally tired. But it wasn't due to any lack of sleep. Inside her mind, Marianne had strong control over the girls body. Along with being able to take control of her consciousness, the deceased Empress could control other aspects of Anya's mental state to suit her own ends.

One such example was being able to manipulate the girl's mental state to make her feel like she was tired when she really wasn't. It was a slightly safer way for Marianne to do something that the older woman wanted to do something without the girl trying to investigate it as one of her 'blackouts', since to the young girl, it was simply her just having a nap.

So, the pink-haired girl moved closer to one of the pair of beds in the room (they may have rented a penthouse suite, but Gino was still a gentleman and had gotten himself his own room. Such a nice boy), then she removed her shoes and climbed under the covers. Letting her head hit the pillow softly, Anya let her breathing become more steady and soon she was fast asleep.

After waiting a few minutes to make sure the girl was fully asleep, Marianne opened her eyes before stretching out in her reclined position and then climbing out of the bed. She didn't bother putting the shoes back on, since it would raise too many questions for the mentally sleeping Anya. Instead, she padded over barefoot to the special screen that many penthouse suites had. They were combination of a television screen, a computer and a video-telephone all in on.

Pressing the power button, Anya's body typed a special code in to the touch keypad that showed up on the screen. It was a special, eight digit code that only a very select chosen few in Britannian society were given, as it gave the user a direct line to the office of the 98th Emperor of the Holy Britannian Empire, Charles zi Britannia.

A soft melodic tone filled the air of the room as the call was connected, before the profile image of the emperor appeared on the screen. He was sitting in his office, his eyes scanning a piece of paper that was held just below the screen's lower edge, his face fixed in a look of weary annoyance. Turning his head slightly, Charles' face didn't change expression at the image of the person that appeared on his screen.

"Marianne." The man stated, obviously knowing that it wasn't the young girl who was calling him. "Why are you calling me? Has something come up?"

"What?" Marianne said, shrugging in an exaggerated manner with a cocky smile on her face. "Can't a wife phone on her husband to make sure he's had a decent lunch?"

Charles let out a sigh at the comment. "Marianne... What's going on?"

"Do you know that person that V.V. told you about?"

The man nodded his head. "I know OF him."

"Well," Marianne said in the manner of a child who had discovered a hidden secret and wanted to milk the whole thing. "I think I've found him. He's here in California with Nonette and Darlton, and he's doing something for Cornelia in Sacramento."

Charles turned his head fully to look at the pink-haired girl. "What's his name?"

"Ciaran Forsyth." Marianne replied.

Putting his hand against his chin in a contemplative pose, the Emperor fell in to quiet silence for a while before he spoke again. "What are your thoughts on him?"

Marianne shrugged the pink-haired girls shoulders. "I don't know. He's definitely an odd one. He gets on well with Darlton and Nonette it seems, and he's quite likeable, I'll admit. A bit rough around the edges, but on the whole, I don't think he's anything to worry about."

And it was true. Even though the young man did go around carrying a pistol, which she assumed to be fully loaded if she knew Darlton, he didn't strike Marianne as someone who was overly dangerous.

"So why was V.V. worrying about him?" She asked, looking at the screen and at her husband as he continued thinking.

"He didn't say." Charles said, shaking his head before looking at the pink-haired girl. "Can you tell if he has any connection to Geass?"

This time, it Marianne's turn to shake her head. "Not that I can tell."

Charles nodded his head in understanding, before sighing and leaned back in his chair, making it groan audibly. "So how do we proceed, Marianne? You're the one currently closest to him. What are your thoughts?"

Now it was Marianne's turn to look thoughtful as she put a finger to her chin. It was true that she did get a generally strange feeling from the Briton, and it was also true that working with Cornelia, so it would probably mean that if an order was given to the Second Princess, then Ciaran would probably have to go with her, so they could get him out of the way if needed.

But she also knew that the Geass order couldn't really do anything to get him under their control. He was too strong-willed, too likely to ask questions. Far too likely to cause trouble. Plus, there was also the possibility that he had some kind of link to CC, and that had to be investigated.

Yet on the whole, he seemed harmless enough.

"I seriously doubt he'll pose any sort of risk, so it might be best if we leave him alone." Marianne said honestly. "I think we should keep an eye on him, just in case, but I don't think we need to do anything against him."

Charles looked at her thoughtfully, before nodding his head slowly. "That makes the most sense, yes."

"Is something wrong, dear?" Marianne asked, knowing full well when her husband was distracted by something.

"V.V.." The Emperor said simply.

"What about him?"

"He's not one who likes to stay put when someone he doesn't like turns up."

Marianne scoffed darkly. "Tell me about it." It was impossible for the woman to forget when that little blonde freak gunned her down in her own home. "Can't you do something to protect him?"

Charles arched an eyebrow at her. "But you said that we should leave him alone?"

The Knight of Six opened her mouth to speak before the man on the other end of the call cut her off. "Marianne, if he really is a member of Cornelia's Royal Guard and is working under General Darlton, then he is in good hands. He also might be able to defend himself if need-be."

Letting out a sigh, Marianne nodded her head. Charles was right: they couldn't do anything to protect the young man without tipping him off that he was being watched so closely, they would have to let him go on his own.

"All right, dear." She said glumly.

"Is there anything else you wanted to talk about?" Charles asked.

"No, that's it." Marianne replied, shaking her head before her husband nodded his head.

"All right then. I'll see you soon. Have a good time." A small but genuine smile crept across Charles face, which Marianne returned herself.

"I will. Goodbye, dear." She said before cutting the phone link, leaving the room in silence again.

Sighing again, the woman shook her head ruefully before she turned around and crawled back in to the bed. That really wasn't the answer that Marianne had wanted to hear, but Charles was right: they couldn't interfere with Ciaran, even if VV sent someone against him. But, from what she gleaned from the young man in the short amount of time that she'd known him, then could defend himself.

She hoped that he was a good shot with his pistol though, as her head hit the pillow.

It was still sometime until Anya was going to meet up with Monica and Gino, so Marianne's disembodied spirit stealthily switched back with the young girl's consciousness, letting the young girl continue sleeping. Besides, an empress needed her beauty sleep too.

---

AD: Before we get any further: A Brave New World has gone past 200 followers and 200 faves. I am seriously amazed and quite humbled really. Thanks for the support guys. And thanks to AD Fields and mrthischarmingman2 for their continued help with this story.

Although I do have to say: chapter 22 did not get a lot of reviews, I have to say. I mean; it is good to have reviews, but... it just seems weird to have a lot fewer reviews than normal. Did you guys not like it or what? Anyway, on to the story.

So yes, we are finally in the Homeland. Umm... honestly not much to say on this bit really. Although it might make the story run a little longer than I originally, but that would probably be only by a chapter or two. Also, the introduction of several characters, some canon, some non. Some that we'll see a number of times, some we won't see again, some that'll pop up down the line and... well, it's new characters.

Quite military heavy, aye. And a number of references to real world things too:

# The camouflage is obviously based on the British Disruptive Pattern Material (DPM) that was in use during the Cold War and up until the introduction of the Multi-Terrain Pattern camouflage in 2010.

# The number designation of the military unit, The 332 Light Infantry Battalion, is based on the famous 32 Battalion of the South African Defense Force which operated during the South African Border War. If anyone knows their military history, then you'll probably see where I'm going with this unit.

# The names of the infantrymen are based on the real-life names of the soldiers who fought in the US Marine Corps 1st Recon battalion during the Second Iraq War as portrayed in the book and TV series named Generation Kill. I'll be honest here: names are hard for me to come up with. The amount of times I've had to use .com to come up with names.

So that's all I need to say. As usual, read, enjoy and review. Please review, I do like to read what you guys think of the story, even though I regretfully don't have the time to respond to your comments.

Also (again and sorry to keep mentioning this) but this story does not have a TVTropes page, and it would mean a lot if anyone who was capable of it could help expand it. Lord knows I need cheering up. But enough of that. Cheers in advance, guys.

Tatty-bye.