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.

29. Chapter 29

The first combat operation of the 332 Battalion in Area 11, from start to finish, took just over four hours to complete. The decision to use Butcher One-Five to casevac the heavily injured JLF fighters back to the Palace had shorthanded the operation a bit, but the size of the Valkyrs meant that the men could squeeze all the captured weapons, the bodies of the eleven dead insurgents and anything they thought to be of importance in to the gunships and still have room left over for themselves.

The decision was made for the buildings that still stood to be demolished, so grenades were used to blow the structures apart. This was decided since the small insurgent group Griffin Two-Two Alpha and Butcher One-Four had been tasked to hunt down had scattered to the four winds and there was no feasible way for the four-man team and the single gunship would be able to hunt the enemy down.

"If the enemy don't have a base to come back to, they'll have to shack up with any other groups in the area," Ciaran rationalized to Villetta and Fick. "Hunting them down with only one stick and gunship would just see us wasting too much time and fuel. So let them run. Besides, if they tell the others that they were wiped out by the Britannians, that might frighten the others quite a bit."

The decision to return to the Palace was taken readily, although some coldness was noted between the Briton and the silver-haired lieutenant as she carried out the order to prepare the squadron of gunships to transport the battalion back to the Viceroy's Palace. Butcher One-Five had already left, carrying the battalion's two medics and their casevac which left the unit short-handed.

For the original Fireforce, that would have been a problem. But fortunately, the Valkyrs attached to the units had an increased carrying compartment over the helicopters used by the Rhodesians. It took a bit of shuffling, especially with nearly a dozen body bags, bags filled with enemy weapons and documents that were considered important and the soldiers themselves, but eventually all the men managed to fit in.

Inside the helicopters, the soldiers were buzzing with excitement over the mission's success. Even the wounded men were happy about being injured in the operation, taking their injuries like a badge of honour. Tales of hits were tossed back and forth, being either encouraged or derided by their fellow soldiers.

The only one who was silent for the whole trip was the young captain, who kept himself busy by taking out the magazines from his rifle and pistol before simply sitting in his seat by Butcher One-One's rear door. He made no attempt to converse with the men except for small-talk and minor reports with the stick leaders via his radio.

---

Standing in the hangar, her arms placed behind her back underneath her large robe, Cornelia waited for the members of 332 Battalion to return to the Palace. While she wouldn't readily admit to it, she had been steadily monitoring the combat mission through the Palace's command and control centre, accompanied by only Darlton and Guilford of course.

She had overheard everything: the exit from the hangar, the flight to the target area, the first shots being fired, the resulting combat and the clean-up operation.

She knew that she had no real business basically eavesdropping on the mission. Cornelia knew that Ciaran was not someone who would do anything too brash on something so important (she had finally come to terms with what he had done at Narita which, since it happened after the battle, was an exception), so she should have left the young man to it.

But in truth, she had two reasons for listening in on the radio traffic. Firstly, it was professional curiosity. To learn how the interaction between the soldiers on the ground and the aerial gunships was carried out, the use of their call signs and the way that the attack was orchestrated in real-time. All the things she would have to know herself if the Fireforce was going to be used in greater frequency after this.

And secondly, there was her own personal curiosity. A platoon was the largest force that the Briton had been in charge of and that had been a solely infantry force. A combination of aerial gunships and infantry was something completely different to command. Cornelia could not deny that Ciaran had come far as an officer, but this was a real test of his abilities. Yet, she felt that it was only right for him to be the one to lead the operation.

Roughly an hour in to the operation though, she had become worried when the call had come through for Butcher One-Five to head back to the Palace with two critical casualties and a request for medical aid to be put on standby. Two was an incredibly low number of casualties for a new operation, but the Second Princess couldn't help the worry that welled up in her at the mention.

"Someone get me in to contact with the pilot of Butcher One-Five. Now." She had commanded sternly. "I want to know who the casualties are."

"It's not Ciaran." Guilford said softly, keeping his voice down so that the others in the C-and-C room to hear him.

"How do you know that?" She hissed out in reply. "You know that's not the sort of information that they'll reveal."

"Because I truly think that it'll take more than an enemy bullet to bring that man down." Her Knight responded warmly, a smile on his face.

Looking at the man beside her, Cornelia couldn't help but return the smile he gave to her. There was some truth in his words. Every time the world tried to bring him low, the Briton always somehow managed to evade it.

"I have Butcher One-Five on the horn, Princess." Darlton said, holding a radio handset in his hand out for her to take.

She had backed herself in to a corner now, so she reached over, taking the handset and placed it to her. "Butcher One-Five, this is Overlord. Status on your casualties. Over."

"Overlord, this is Butcher One-Five. We have two critical casualties: two Elevens sustaining serious causalities We are fifteen minutes out."

"Copy that, Butcher One-Five." Cornelia said in to the headset. "Medical staff will be waiting for you when you arrive. Over and out."

Handing the handset back to the general, she gave the order for medical staff to be sent to the hangar in preparation before she sat down in the chair in front of the holographic display of the area around the Tokyo Settlement.

"It's still such a weird thing, taking wounded insurgents in and giving them aid." Cornelia had noted, looking intently at the board.

"Well," Darlton said dropping the tone of his voice a bit as he leant against the table surface. "Ciaran did say that in his world, the Rhodesians did take in injured insurgents and turn them to their side. And to be fair, it never hurts to get some extra information."

The Second Princess had nodded her head in reply as she watched over the display in front of her. The lack of an attack by Zero at the end of the cease-fire had really rankled her, since the man had seemed to take almost every opportunity that he could to try and take out a member of the Royal Family, so she'd have thought that he would have done something to attack the Palace.

Inaction was something that bothered her greatly. Being an Imperial Princess, the Second Princess at that, as well as the Lord Marshal of Britannia, she was always kept busy with matters either military or civilian, even if she did delegate some matters to Euphemia or Guilford. She was a commander who lead her men, even in her Knightmare or in her G-1, so to merely be listening to the battle reports was not natural to her.

Deciding to do something productive, she went over the list of reinforcements that would be arriving from Britannia.

The first and most important were the infantry. Coming from the Homeland was nine battalions of infantry. Unfortunately, only three of them would be considered veterans; the 23rd Royal Welsch Fusiliers, the 114th Montreal Fencibles and the 112th Glengarry Light Infantry. She'd have liked some more regiments that were proven in combat, but three battalions that were already bloodied from the European Front was good enough.

Next was the armoured elements. Four battalions of Royal Panzer Infantry were being sent other. But again, only one of these four battalions would be considered 'veteran'; the 17th/21st Lancers. They'd been heavily battered during the fighting in North Africa and had been sent back to the Homeland for refitting and reinforcement, and fighting a relatively small (on the scale used to describe the conflicts the Britannian Empire was presently engaged in) conflict was considered to be a good way for them to get back in the swing of things.

After that came the support elements: one full regiment from the Royal Artillery, the 26th Royal Horse Artillery, and three battalions from the Royal Corps of Engineers.

She had discounted any Royal Britannian Navy ships and any Royal Marines from her list of reinforcements. Even with a force of the Royal Marines on standby at the naval base in Yokosuka, she didn't want to risk the numbers that she had using them in open combat, especially if that meant using up the already small number of Knightmares attached the Royal Marine Infantry. The few ships that were there were too vulnerable to risk leaving unattended.

So, until such a time as reinforcements were fully entrenched, 332 Battalion would have to be both the rapier and buckler of Britannian rule in Area 11. Luckily, that would only be for a few more days at the least.

The sound of the radio crackling to life again drew Cornelia's attention away from the lists of regiments, men and equipment, as Ciaran's voice came through.

"Overlord, this is Griffin Actual. Mission complete. We're coming home. ETA twenty-five minutes. Over and out."

Smiling happily, Cornelia stood up from her seat and turned to look at her two compatriots.

"Shall we take the long way down?" She asked, drawing confirmatory nods from both men before she led them towards the elevator.

Because of the size of the Viceroy's Palace, there were many elevators installed. Some had a direct line from one place to another, others were more mundane in operation. Taking the direct elevator that ran from the command-and-control room straight down to the garage and hangar would have only taken five minutes. Instead, using several elevators, the trio took fifteen minutes to get to the main hangar.

Deciding that it wouldn't do well for the Third Princess and her head staff to be seen milling around for near on ten minutes, they decided to make a small inspection of the personnel that were in the hangar, specifically the crew of gunship Butcher One-Five. For a good while, she and General Darlton talked with the aviators of the gunship about the action and the performance of the gunships and the soldiers on the ground. While their view was one that both senior officers wanted to hear, they wanted to hear the British-born captain's views on the Fireforce.

After hearing what they wanted to hear, the trio parted ways before moving to an unoccupied area that faced the entrance to the hangar while keeping them out of the way of any passing vehicles, which is where they are found now, waiting for the Fireforce unit to return.

"Here they come." Darlton said simply, his head turned to face the large entrance to the Palace hangar, just as the noise of the gunships engines reached her ears, the noise faint but still clearly identifiable.

After probably half a minute of waiting, the first of the Valkyrs entered through the portal, moving at quite a slow distance for a machine of its bulk as it hovered towards it's designated landing spot. Guided in by a technician carrying a pair of light batons, the large machine turned in the air, it's bow facing towards the middle of the hangar before it lowered down to the floor, it's landing gear making it bounce slightly as it touched down on the opposite of Butcher One-Five in the area marked for the Valkyrs to be stationed.

Quickly on its heels, the other four attack craft from Butcher Squadron flew in to the hangar, moving to the left flank of the lead helicopter, hovering over the parking bays before they pirouetted to face front and descended to the floor.

For a few more seconds, the air inside the hangar sounded like the inside of a miniature hurricane. Many of the technician crews nearby, including Cornelia and her staff, had to duck their heads to shield their faces from the maelstrom winds before, finally, the coaxial rotors ceased their spinning.

At the rear of each gunship, the boarding ramp dropped to the floor, followed by the occupants of the helicopters exiting the crafts before they proceeded to move towards the front of the vehicles. Moving with professional speed and silence, the members of Alpha Platoon of 332 Battalion formed up by fireteam in front of the gunships. Although from the corner of her eye, Cornelia saw three of the woodland uniformed soldiers being helped moved aside by medical orderlies.

Deciding to wait until everyone in the operation had moved to assemble before her, Cornelia watched quietly as the young Briton, standing front and centre of the assembled soldiers, quick marched to stand in front of the group of high ranking Britannians. When he was no less more than a yard in front of the Second Princess, he threw his right hand up to his forehead in salute.

"Alpha Platoon, 332 Battalion, returning from enemy contact, Lord Marshall." The young man said, his camouflaged features kept impassive as he spoke to his superior officer.

"Glad to have you back, Captain Forsyth." Cornelia said in the tone she had when talking to junior officers who had done well without showing an undue favour. "How was the action?"

Ciaran gave a small shrug in reply. "Not much to say. We found, we went, we beat them."

"Casualties?" General Darlton asked.

"On our end, sir; three lightly wounded. On their side; eleven dead, two seriously wounded currently receiving medical attention, four bolted."

That made Guilford arc an eyebrow in question, but Cornelia quickly cut him off. "We'll discuss that later. With your permission, Captain, I'd like to speak to your battalion."

Taking a step back and to the side, the young man held a hand out to his side, gesturing to the assembled soldiers and aircrews. "The battalion is all yours, Your Highness."

Nodding her head, the purple-haired royal walked past the young captain, leaving him alone with the two older Britannian males. Walking forward, the sound of her heels striking the floor of the hangar, Cornelia took in the sight of the soldiers in front of her: each man stood at attention, with their weapons slung at their chests, barrels down. Each man's face was heavily camouflaged while their gear was still the mismatched combo of woodland uniforms and pouches against grey Kevlar vests.

Still, she could not deny that they were a threatening looking force.

Stopping short of the group, Cornelia puffed up her chest slightly before she spoke.

"Everyone; stand easy."

A quiet shuffling sound filled the air as the Pathfinders and aviators shifted their stance, moving their feet to a shoulder width apart.

"Soldiers and airmen of Britannia; I know that all of you have been bloodied in combat before, but I also know that this is the first time that any of you have ever taken part in an operation such as this."

She paused to let her words sink in.

"However, I can say with great confidence that you have all acquitted yourself, and your battalion, perfectly."

A ghost of her smile came to her lips as she continued speaking, her hands coming up to reinforce her point dramatically.

"You have shown me and my senior staff that this style of combat does work and can bear fruit. And I know, that with your help, we can bring down justice on to the heads of these rebels and wipe them clean off the map!"

Cornelia let her words reverberate around the room, letting them sink in before she spoke again.

"You have only had one trial by fire with this new doctrine, but this is only the tip of the iceberg, and you know as well as I that there are many more enemies to face. However, your success today has shown myself and my staff that this will work, so we will all continue to hone the Fireforce to a fine edge so that we may finally bring the Black Knights and that snake Zero to justice."

Cornelia moved her hands behind her back as she lowered her tone of voice a tad.

"However, since you have all performed so well today, you are all on R-and-R for the rest of the day. Is that all right with you, Captain?"

The young Britain nodded his head. "It is perfectly all right with me, My Lady."

"Very well then." Cornelia said with a nod as she turned back to face the assembled platoon. "First Platoon. You are dismissed."

Turning around, the Second Princess walked towards where her senior officers were gathered.

"Sergeant Major Reynolds!" Ciaran bellowed out. "Dismiss the men."

Behind her, Cornelia heard the man in question call out before the sound of feet stamping together before shuffling off.

When she reached her group, the Princess looked at Ciaran blankly. "Ciaran, your debriefing will be in my office, now."

A look of shock came to the young man's face. "Umm… can't I go for a shower first. I mean, I'm covered in sweat and dirt and camoufl-"

"There'll be time for that later," Cornelia said, cutting the Briton's words short. "I want to hear your after-action report in person, now."

The look of confusion didn't leave the Briton's face, so the Princess decided to give him a bone.

"I'll have the maids prepare somethings to help you wash your face."

Giving her best disarming smile, Cornelia saw the look of confusion drop from Ciaran's face to be replaced with a more placated look before he nodded his head.

Without saying a word, the group headed towards the elevator that led in to the Palace proper. As they walked towards the elevator bay, the sound of welding gear and angle grinder's in use caught her ears, and drew the attention of the young Briton.

"What's going on?" Ciaran asked as he turned to look in the direction the noise was coming from, an area currently partitioned off by walls made from wheeled metal plates.

"Well," Darlton said, stepping beside the smaller man, "You definitely gave us some good information in your essay. Especially in one area which I honestly feel has been neglected too much, especially here in Area 11."

Not helping herself, Cornelia rolled her eyes at the comment before she decided to elaborate on the topic.

"Patrolling in the ghettoes is usually something left to the police, but the fear that the Black Knights would attempt to ambush either them or the military forces who would go in, is something that needs to be properly addressed."

Motioning her hand towards the area, the purple-haired princess smiled again.

"Go and have a look."

Stepping quickly but cautiously, he moved toward the cordoned off area, followed by the Princess and her two officers. Coming around the corner of one of the moveable walls, the quartet emerged to the sight in front of them.

Nearly three dozen men were swarming over the skeletal chassis of what looked like a trio of large, six-wheel transport trucks, stripped down to the axles and floors of the vehicles. Plates were being welded together to form various structures around a series of sectional frames; V-shapes, long rectangular hulls intersected with small panels of reinforced glass, large doors and other various parts that made up a vehicle's frame.

"What are they making?" Ciaran asked, looking around the area in surprise.

"I think if you guessed, you'd probably be right, Ciaran." General Darlton said with a smirk as he watched the young man move closer to one of the frames.

Stepping forward, the Briton moved to stand near to the metallic skeleton. Cornelia watched as he peered intently at the construction, the closest wheel coming up to his waist, further reinforcing the size of the machine.

After a few seconds of simply running his hands over the exposed metal, Ciaran suddenly turned around to look at the trio of Britannians.

"It's an MRAP." He said in astonishment, a wide smile on his face.

"Bingo." Darlton said smiling as well. "While R-and-D had toyed with the idea before, but the ideas were quite simple: raising the ground clearance of the vehicle while reinforcing the floor. But to use the V-shaped hull? It's simple but not something the eggheads really thought of."

"But I thought that Cornelia had said that vehicle was already being built." The Briton asked in confusion, looking at Darlton.

"It… kind of got blown up." The scarred general said with a shrug. "So, we're starting again."

Ciaran looked ready to open his mouth to speak again, but Cornelia wanted to move things along quickly.

"Captain, I'm getting impatient here." She said testily.

"My apologies, Your Highness." The young man said apologetically, putting his arms by his side again before bowing his head. "Lead the way."

Turning smartly on her heels, Cornelia marched past her Knight and General before heading towards the elevator bank.

The group didn't say anything else as they entered the metal box and began their ascent in to the Palace proper before moving towards the Viceroy's office. When they were in the room, Cornelia quickly removed her large cloak before handing it off to Guilford.

"Before anything else, I want to say this now, Ciaran." She said as she moved around and sat behind her desk. "You did well out there. A platoon of infantry against an enemy force of near equal strength made up of infantry and a Knightmare and you get away with only three people injured? I don't think I've ever seen anyone pull off that result in such a short space of time of being given command. Kudos to you."

Ciaran nodded his head simply. "Thank you, Princess."

The older woman couldn't help but sigh. "Okay, what's on your mind?"

A look of genuine confusion came to the Briton's face. "What? No, nothing. Just… coming down from an adrenaline high."

The older woman narrowed her indigo-coloured eyes slightly at the comment before she carefully studied the Briton's face. Although it was hard to tell anything about him with his face covered by camouflage paint, but his body language didn't give any hints to say that he was in any sort of emotional distress.

Softly shrugging, Cornelia leaned back in her chair. "All right then, Ciaran. Since we monitored the mission from the C-and-C centre, we know the main details of the mission: when it started, first contact with the enemy and the resulting combat. But first things first: how did everything work?"

"Better than expected," The young man replied. "The speed of the Valkyrs is a definite boon, which outclasses the Knightmares when having to traverse difficult terrain. The twenty-mil chaingun does its work too. Villetta found that a combination of armour-piercing followed by high-explosive rounds work best against Knightmares.

"The seven-point-six-two rounds also more than prove their worth and the SLRs are brilliantly accurate. But that's where we hit a snag."

That piqued Cornelia's interest as she sat up more straight in her chair. If there was something that could hamper a mission, she had to know of it. "What sort of snag?"

Before Ciaran could reply, a small series of knocks sounded on the door before it opened and a woman with dark hair poked her head through.

"I have the towels and water bowl you requested, Your Highness." She said in a demure but unquiet voice as she moved through the threshold in to the room proper.

"Just bring them in, then you are dismissed. We won't need anything else for now."

Curtseying, the maid reached past the door and pulled a metal trolley in to the room along with a towel and various cleaning products. Moving quickly, she moved in to the room proper, stopping just beside Cornelia's three officers followed by curtseying once more before she left the room the way she came.

"Okay, continue, Ciaran." The Second Princess said, gesturing to the bowl.

"All right then," The young man responded as he began taking off his equipment and put them down on to the couch at the side of the room. "Firing the SLRs in semi-automatic is a good and accurate way to fight the enemy, but it leaves us with a shortcoming."

Ciaran stopped as he approached the bowl and dunked his cupped hands in to the bowl before bringing the water to splash against his face.

"We can't get enough lead downrange." He said, as the Princess watched him begin removing the camouflage paint from his face. "With the SLRs, we can only manage one round every time we pull the trigger which means, while meaning that each shot will be well placed, the sticks are dangerously short of fast aggressive firepower."

"How did your Rhodesians sort out that problem?" Cornelia asked, remembering that his world's Rhodesians were different to her world's Rhodesians.

The young man didn't reply for a few seconds, intent on scrubbing his face clean of the grease and paint. It didn't take long before he brought his cupped hands back up to his face to wash off the wettened paint. Cornelia couldn't help but snort in amusement at the image; the part around his nose and eyes were cleaned, but the outer periphery of his face and around his hair and beard line was still a very dark shade of green.

"Each stick was allocated a general-purpose machine gun," The Briton said flatly. "That did the job well. And yes, I know my face looks a mess. If you let me have a shower, you wouldn't end up with that smirk on your face."

Cornelia's eyes shot open and her mouth dropped slightly as she realised that she had been caught. She couldn't really deny that the situation was funny, even though the meeting was supposed to be serious.

Putting her hands down on to her desk as she looked at the young man, a small smirk still on her face.

"There'll be plenty of time for you to take a shower when this is over." The Second Princess said in a stern tone. "Now, was that the only problem you noted?"

Using the sleeve of his jacket, Ciaran wiped at the water dripping off his chin before he put his hands against his hips.

"Collecting the weapons from the quarter-master takes too long." He replied simply. "From initial contact to enemy to getting our weapons to boarding the gunships, we waste around twenty minutes, which, combined with the time of travel to the last known enemy position, leaves too much time for the possibility of the enemy catching wind of us and scarpering.

"Which leads me on to the third snag; launching from the Viceroy's Palace means that we can only operate in the areas immediately surrounding the Tokyo Settlement. Even with the Valkyrs range, that still leaves a HUGE portion of the island unchecked. If we're going to operate across the whole of Area 11, we'll need to establish firebases and observation posts for us to stop over at to refuel, rearm and rest before sortieing out again.

"Which finally leads us to the final problem: manpower." At this, Ciaran let out a small sigh at what he was about to say. "Cornelia, I fully appreciate you giving me a battalion of my own to command, but a single company is not enough. Especially if we end up facing the same number of fighters as we did this time. I need more men."

Cornelia couldn't help but let one of her eyebrows arc up in surprise.

"And this is coming from the same man who said that he could only handle a single platoon." She said in surprise. "Looks like you have matured."

In response, the young man crossed his arms over his chest as he looked at the Princess in mock incredulity. "You should know as much as anyone that this job forces you to mature quickly."

The purple-haired princess nodded her head slowly in agreement. "Indeed, it does. But, to answer your request, even though it wasn't phrased like one: I cannot give you more men."

"Why not?" Ciaran asked in reply.

"We don't have enough men here, Ciaran." Guilford answered for her. "After Narita, we've only got two full strength infantry battalions, along with one understrength battalion. Although that should technically be two, since 332 Battalion are quartered here too. Plus, add on the fact that we only have three Knightmare battalions at anything near battle ready strength after the restructuring, we are solely undermanned until the reinforcements arrive at the end of the week."

"I know the constraints for Britannian manpower, Lord Guilford." Ciaran said, nodding his head in acquiesce to the Knight's points. "But I'm not asking for you to take away from the Britannian manpower."

That answer was not something that Cornelia expected to hear. Or, more correctly, the phrasing of it, was not something she expected to hear.

"Ciaran, that question is… quite strange."

"All right, I'll phrase it differently then." The Briton said flatly. "Give me Honorary Britannians."

To Cornelia, she felt like she had just had a mild shock at what the person in front of her had just said, having no idea what to say.

"Come again?" She asked.

"Give me Honorary Britannians." Ciaran repeated flatly again.

Again, she had no idea how to react to what she had just been told. Darlton and Guilford were a little quicker on the uptake on how to respond.

"How many would you need?" The scarred general asked.

"Enough to make two full platoons, that's all I ask." Ciaran replied.

From her spot, Cornelia just looked at the young man in confusion before, despite herself, she began chuckling darkly, her hand coming up to her forehead as she shook her head in disbelief.

"What's wrong?" The Briton asked, seriously confused by what was going on.

Removing her head, the Second Princess looked up at him before she spoke coldly. "Ciaran, you're asking me to allow Honorary Britannians, Elevens, to fight alongside Britannians?"

A look of confusion came to the young man's face. "Why not?"

Letting out a simple sigh, Cornelia fixed Ciaran with a stare. "Because Honorary Britannians don't form mixed units with Britannians."

The confused look stayed on Ciaran's face as he processed what she had said. "But… that… that doesn't make sense? Cornelia, we need more men and if we wait until the reinforcements arrive from Britannia, we won't be able to capitalize on what this attack has given us."

"Ciaran, there's no argument here." Cornelia said simply and flatly. "We are not letting Honorary Britannians join the same units as Britannians."

The look of confusion fell as a neutral façade overtook his face. "We? Or I?"

"I don't appreciate your tone, captain." Cornelia said, staring directly at the Briton.

"It's a simple question." Ciaran said with a shrug, not taking his own eyes off the woman across from him. "I have zero problem with letting Honorary Britannians. So, the problem obviously lies with you."

"Problem?" Cornelia repeated incredulously, sitting more upright in her chair. "A 'problem'? Is that how you're calling it?"

"Well I certainly see it as one," The Briton responded, throwing up his arms in exasperation. "You're not letting my unit, the unit that you helped me create, operate to its full potential because of your own prejudices. So, yes, it's a bloody problem!"

"All right, let's calm down now." Darlton said in a placating tone, putting his hands up. "Let's not end up saying anything we'll both regret."

"I think we're past that point now, Darlton," Cornelia said pushing herself up from her seat to fully stand up. "To answer your question, Ciaran: no, I don't have a problem. If any one of us has a problem, it's you since you seem to have the inability to listen to simple bloody English; I will not have. Honorary Britannians. In a unit with Britannians. Is that clear?"

"Then you're a fucking idiot." Ciaran growled out, taking everyone by surprise.

"Watch your words carefully, Captain." The Second Princess growled out, putting extra emphasis on the young man's rank.

"I will not!" Came the barked response. "You have a perfect opportunity to strike a major blow to the Black Knights with propaganda and force, but instead you choose to let that chance slip away because of your own fucking petty beliefs!"

"You are out of line, Ciaran!" Cornelia snapped back, feeling her blood begin to boil quickly.

"No, you are out line, you stupid racist bitch!" Ciaran roared back angrily.

Before the young man could open his mouth again to speak, Cornelia's right hand was already moving rapidly before the resounding smack of her hand connecting with his cheek filled the room and the Briton's head snapped to the right, causing him to stagger slightly from the impact.

In the stunned silence that followed, the only sound that Cornelia could hear was the sound of her heavy breathing coming through her clenched teeth. She was oblivious to the looks of shock on Darlton's and Guilford's faces as she was focused on the man in front of her.

For his part, Ciaran recovered quickly, even with the bright red mark that covered a good portion of his left cheek and the slight watering of his left eye, as he moved to stand to attention.

"I feel that's the end of my report, Your Highness." He said stoically, even as his left eye twitched from the pain.

Managing to get her breathing under control slightly, she simply stared at him angrily. "You are dismissed from duty for today, captain. You will return to your room until I call for you. Now get out."

Nodding his head, Ciaran took a few steps back before he turned around fully and exited the room, shutting the door behind him. When he was done, Cornelia finally sat back down in her seat, her right hand stinging from the force of the slap.

None of the people in the room said anything as Cornelia gripped her hand and tried to rub out some of the pain.

"Cornelia," Guilford said finally. "Are you all right?"

"Forget about her." Darlton said, causing the pair to look up and see him still staring at the closed door. "What about Ciaran? Shouldn't we be asking him that?"

"He insulted Cornelia!" The bespectacled knight stated loudly. "A slap on the face is the least he should worry about."

"Yes, I am well aware of what he had said, Gilbert." Darlton responded icily, turning to look at the man. "But that response from Cornelia was completely uncalled for."

"What are you saying, Darlton?" Cornelia asked in confusion, turning to look at the scarred general. "How can you say that after what he just suggested?"

"He suggested a perfectly acceptable idea, Princess." Darlton said. "And you have also forgotten that, not only is he the youngest of us all and is going to be the most liberal of us, he is also not from this world. So, of course he's going to have a different opinion on this."

The realisation of that fact hit Cornelia full force as she closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair. "Of fucking course…"

Unperturbed, the general kept talking. "Now you know my thoughts on using Numbers in our forces; "Use every able body". So, I agree with Ciaran's assessment of the situation: he does need extra bodies in the battalion if he wants it to operate at its full potential. In fact, I think that if the battalion were to operate at full potential, then it should have more vehicles, more weapons and more men because I have faith in that young man."

Turning to look at Cornelia with a forlorn expression. "But… you are also my Lord Marshal, and I will always respect you and your decisions."

The Second Princess let out a sigh. "Yet you think that I'm wrong here."

From his place, the scarred general shrugged his shoulders. "It's not my place to say. But for the record, I think that could have been handled with a bit more tact. From both parties."

The look that was directed at Cornelia had been one that she had only seen him give when he was disappointed in a person's actions. She herself had only had the gaze levelled at her once in her training days when she had very badly failed at a training exercise. That had been nearly twelve years ago, and the look was just as bad now as it was back then.

"I'll go and talk to him about it later." She said resolutely. "I don't think either of us would be in any state right now to have a reasonable talk."

"Understood, Your Highness." Darlton said with a nod before he turned and headed to the door.

"Where are you going?" Guilford asked, looking at the man's back in confusion as Darlton opened the door.

"Just going to make sure he doesn't do anything else stupid." The general called out before he exited the room, closing the door behind.

Sighing again, Cornelia smiled fondly at the closed door. "I guess that age has its benefit."

Turning her head to look at her Knight, her mouth shifted to a forlorn smile. "Gilbert, would you be kind enough to leave me alone? I need some time to myself."

Nodding his head, Guilford took a step then leaned forward, placing a small kiss on to her head before he walked out of the room, leaving Cornelia in the room.

---

Sucking in shuddering breaths of air, Ciaran leant his shoulder against the wall as his left hand hovered over his stinging left cheek. His eyes watered up from the pain, his ear was ringing from the slap and he found it hard to keep his balance.

How in the seven hells can a person deliver such a hard slap? It felt like he'd been hit by a car rather than a person! And that was something he knew from personal experience.

Sucking in as much air as he could, he summoned his mental fortitude and pushed down the pain as he decided to head out to his room.

Which proved a task that was easier said than done, as he found out. Pushing himself from the wall, Ciaran was suddenly set upon by a serious case of dizziness. His field of vision began to swim and he felt nauseated before he moved himself back to lean against the wall, using the solid stone structure as support until the spell passed.

"Okay, okay." He said to himself in a low voice, forcing down any feelings of vomit he had. "You can do this."

Looking down the hallway he was in, he concocted a plan. It was nearly a straight shot from the Viceroy's office to his own room with only two corners to go around, so if he took it slow, he could make it without too much hassle. He would have to stick to the walls practically all the way, but then he'd have to think of something else when he came to the corners. He'd cross that bridge when he came to it though.

Keeping his left hand on the wall, he began walking forward. It was after a few steps though that another wave of nausea overcame him, forcing him to put his hand over his mouth.

"Ugh, this isn't gonna work." Ciaran groaned out.

The sound of light footsteps behind him preceded the sweet voice of probably the last person he wanted to see him in this sort of state.

"Ciaran! You're back!" Euphemia said happily, her footsteps quickening as she came up to him. "What are you doing out here though?"

Not wanting the girl to see what Cornelia had done to him, Ciaran turned his head to the side so that she could only see the right side of his face.

"Hello, Euphemia." He said genially, keeping the pain from coming in to his voice. "I just had a meeting with your sister."

"Oh really?" She asked. "So, what are you up to now?"

"Oh, not much." Ciaran replied with the best disarming smile he could muster. "Although I am feeling a bit tired after today, so she's letting me head to my room to rest. So… yeah, I'll talk to you again in a bit, okay?"

Before she could respond, the man turned his head and made to move on to his room. In a decidedly unwise move, Ciaran decided to not use the wall as a support. Which resulted in him nearly pitching sideways down to the floor.

A cry of shock came from behind him before Euphemia rushed to his side and managed to catch him.

"Ah! You are heavy!" She said loudly, before she pushed the Briton more upright. "Ciaran, are you okay? What's wrong?"

"It's fine, Euphemia." He said, trying to smile as he fought off the bought of dizziness that attacked him but he turned his head to smile at the young princess. "I'm just tired is all. But since you're here, could you-"

"Ciaran! You're hurt!"

Looking at the girl in shock, Ciaran saw that her face was locked directly on to the bright red bruise on the left side of his face.

"Oh, that." He said simply. "I got that earlier today. During combat. Just a… the shockwave from an explosive. Nothing serious."

He was readily bullshitting here. Ciaran knew that explosions could damage internal organs, but he had no idea whether it could solely bruise skin. But he was truly certain that Euphemia didn't know that.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Euphemia asked, helping push the Briton to stand upright. "It looks really painful."

"Yeah, it kind of is. But the doctors checked it out, and they said it's fine."

For a few seconds, the Third Princess merely looked at him as though she were studying him to see if Ciaran was lying before she nodded her head.

"All right then. Although you do look like you need some help." Euphemia said worriedly. "Do you want some help to your room?"

"Oh, I couldn't for you to do that." Ciaran said diplomatically, taking a step away from the princess, although she stopped short as he teetered a little bit, only stopping when the girl managed to catch him. "Although I'm not really in a state to say no."

Nodding her head, Euphemia wrapped her arms around Ciaran's right arm and the pair began walking down the corridor.

Out of the corner of his eye, the Briton let a thin smile come to his face as he looked at Euphemia. It would be almost impossible for him to imagine the pink haired girl acting violently. He couldn't even imagine her raising her voice in anger, even an octave, let alone physically lashing out at someone.

"So... how are things with you?" Ciaran asked out of the blue, hoping to try and avoid any more questions about his face.

Which, in the mysterious and sometimes downright sadistic way the universe worked, resulted in the complete opposite happening.

"Ciaran! There you are!" The baritone voice of General Darlton called out, the sound of his heavy footfalls coming up behind the pair.

Turning his head to look over his shoulder, the young man saw the tall man quick walking towards the pair, a look of quiet worry on his face.

"Hello, Darlton." Euphemia said happily.

"Hello to you, Princess Euphemia." The general said as he drew up to them. "I'm sorry but I had to look for your friend here."

Confusion played across Euphemia's face. "You did? Why?"

Looking directly at Darlton's face, Ciaran shook his head subtly, silently begging for the man not to say anything. That unfortunately proved all for naught though as Euphemia's next question didn't help the situation.

"Is it to do with Ciaran's face?"

Darlton nodded his head as an unsure look twisted his face. "Yes, it is, Your Highness."

Ciaran swallowed slightly as he saw Euphemia's eyes narrow slightly. "He didn't get the bruise in combat, did he?"

The general's black eyes flicked to the Briton's green-blue ones, both unsure of how to proceed.

"General Darlton." Euphemia said in a sterner voice. "How did Ciaran get his injury?"

Giving an apologetic look to the young man, Darlton let out a weary sigh. "He and your sister got in to an argument and she… slapped him."

For a few seconds, the Third Princess just looked at the general blankly for a few seconds before her eyes slowly grew wide in shock, snapping her head around to look at the man her arms were around.

"Why did she slap you?" She asked.

Deciding that he was deep down the rabbit-hole now, Ciaran relented. "We got in to an argument about me getting extra men for my battalion. Things got a bit heated and... I… called her something I won't really repeat."

"Wha… how did that happen if you were talking about the military?" Euphemia asked, truly confused by what she was being told.

"My idea was to use Honorary Britannians in the regiment alongside Britannians."

A happy smile broke out across Euphemia's face, even as her eyes still carried confusion in them. "But… that's a good plan, right?"

To their side, Darlton just shrugged his shoulders. "You know what your sister is like, Princess. But I think right now, we need to focus on Ciaran here. How are you feeling? Still angry?"

"Honestly? A little bit. But right now, I'm trying to focus on not falling over as I walk."

The scarred Britannian nodded his head as he moved closer to them. "Yeah, that slap did look painful. Do you need some help getting to your room?"

"It wouldn't hurt, sir." Ciaran said, nodding his head.

Stepping forward, Darlton gently prised Euphemia's arms from around the Briton's limb before, taking hold of the young man's own arms, he turned his own body around while simultaneously lifting Ciaran up and putting him on to his back in a piggy-back position.

"Hey!" The Briton cried out in shock, both at the sudden movement and the nausea that attacked him. "I am not a little kid."

"Answer me honestly, Ciaran." Darlton asked, turning his head slightly. "Could you have honestly made it all the way to your room just by walking?"

Ciaran fell silent as he thought over the answer. If the simple fact of him going only about a dozen feet from Cornelia's office resulted in a horrible mix of nausea and dizziness, then he wasn't positive about his prospects over reaching his room by foot, even if Euphemia helped him.

"Okay." He said finally, letting his head drop slightly. "But I'm not particularly happy about this whole thing."

"Noted." Darlton said, smiling slightly. "Now try and keep quiet. It'll help you a bit."

Nodding his head, Ciaran let his arms simply drop over the general's shoulders and chest before Darlton began walking down the hallway. It didn't surprise him to hear Euphemia jogging up behind them before falling in to step beside them.

"But why did Cornelia not agree with you on using Honorary Britannians in your unit?" She asked Ciaran.

"I don't think I'll be able to say without using phrases that you really can't repeat in front of royalty." The Briton said flatly.

"It was that bad?" Euphemia asked in shock.

"It was short but pretty brutal." Darlton said offhandedly. "And it was not something I think I'd ever expect to see from either of them. But to answer your question; I think you already know the answer, Princess."

Looking to the side, Ciaran watched Euphemia's face as she listened to the general's words. For a few seconds, she was silent before she nodded her head, turning her head back to the front.

"Umm… Am I missing out on something?" He asked in confusion.

"I think it best if Cornelia tells you herself, Ciaran." Euphemia replied sadly.

Not really in the mood to ask any more questions, the young man just let his head roll forward, coming to rest against the back of Darlton's head. To be honest with himself, he felt like crap. He had just yelled at Cornelia, probably the last person he wanted to verbally fight with, along with just feeling emotionally drained both from the combat and the experience of yelling at Cornelia.

He let out a weary sigh. "I'm starting to think being a commanding officer isn't all it's cracked up to be."

"To be honest, it's a lot easier than you think." Darlton said simply. "You just have the added bonuses of being from a different time and place than us and also having the Second Princess as your commanding officer. So, that's extra hassle for you."

The Briton didn't say anything just to grunt simply in response, so Darlton took that as a sign to continue speaking.

"Look, if it's any consolation: I agree with your plan."

That perked the young man up. "You do?"

Darlton turned his head slightly to the side and nodded his head. "I do. You need extra men, and if you have to wait for reinforcements to arrive from Britannia, then you'll be short-staffed. Plus, using native populations alongside non-natives in counter-insurgency forces works better than simply using Britannians."

"Thank you!" Ciaran responded, trying his best not to tip himself backwards off the man's back. "Why can't Cornelia see that?"

"It's not my place to say." The general replied. "Let's just say that she has her reasons, and we'll leave it at that."

This earned a snort from the young man before he said in a low tone. "It had better be a damn good reason…"

Suddenly, Darlton stopped walking before turning his head to look at the young man on his back, a dangerous glare in his eye. "Don't."

"What?"

"Don't talk down to the woman who took you in, who gave you security and a place to live. I know that you are angry at her, but do not forget that."

The tone of Darlton's voice made Ciaran shrink back slightly, the hard glare from his black eyes reminding him of a look his own father would direct at him. Even looking to the side, he saw Euphemia looking at him with a look of quiet shame.

Cowed, he dropped his eyes to look at the floor before he spoke. "I'm sorry."

For a few moments, neither Britannian said anything before Darlton began walking again. "You're forgiven. But you will need to say that to Cornelia, you know that, right?"

Ciaran nodded his head. "Yeah, I know."

Falling in to silence, the young man let himself be carried to his room. Luckily, they didn't run in to any maids or guards on their way, so his embarrassment was lessened a good deal. Although the presence of Euphemia walking alongside them was a source of embarrassment in of itself.

It didn't take them too long to reach Ciaran's room, with Euphemia opening the room while Darlton let the young man on to the floor before helping him in to the room with a guiding hand. Now, the young Briton would have liked to use the bed to rest on, but because of the layout of the room, the couch facing the television was closer.

"Okay, now down you go." Darlton said, helping Ciaran sit down on the chair before easing him down on to his side. As soon as his head hit one of the cushions, he felt an immediate difference. It wasn't much, but he felt so much better for it.

"Do you think you'll be all right, Ciaran?" Euphemia asked, worriedly, earning a nod from the Briton.

"All right, if that's all," Darlton said, dusting his hands off. "I'll leave you alone. I know you said you're fine now, but I want to calm down fully. Understand?"

"Yes, sir." The young man replied. "And thank you for helping me out."

The general nodded his head by way of a reply before he exited the room, leaving Ciaran alone with a quite upset looking Third Princess standing by the couch.

"What's up?" He asked in genuine concern, as used to seeing the pink-haired princess upset as seeing her sister fuming, which wasn't very.

Not saying a word, Euphemia moved towards the couch before she sat down heavily, her hair and skirt bouncing slightly as she did so.

"Why is it so hard for people to be nice to each other?" She asked out of the blue, not turning her head to look at him.

Shifting his body around a little bit to look at her, Ciaran didn't really know what to say.

"Is this about me and Cornelia or her rejecting my idea?"

Euphemia shook her head, not looking at him. "One. Or both. I… I don't really know. It's just… I don't want people to be angry with each other anymore."

Internally, Ciaran immediately understood what she said. It was a wish that he had wished numerous times, and it was a question that he knew other people had done too.

Leaning as best as he could towards her, the young man put a hand on to her forearm, making her turn her head to look at the Briton.

"Euphemia," He said hesitantly, trying his best to phrase what he was going to say so as not to sound like he was talking down to people. "For twenty-one years, I have seen people carry out the worst things imaginable, because they fell in to the biggest traps of human nature: anger, jealousy and envy. Not just in my life-time but also throughout history."

The pink-haired princess looked at him in confusion, but she remained silent so Ciaran continued.

"But the main thing all those people had in common was that they were afraid, but they didn't want to admit it. Whether they're scared for themselves or scared for those they whole close to them, it's still the same. They want to protect something, either an idea, a person or a place."

Euphemia nodded her head, then moved to lie down next to Ciaran, which took him by surprise since there wasn't really much space. So, doing his best, he scooched himself back until he was fully pressed in to the back of the couch.

"Do you honestly think that Cornelia is one of those people?" She asked sadly.

Ciaran would have been deaf to hear the sadness in the young girl's voice, and it tugged at his heartstrings to hear someone so cheerful speak in such a way. Sighing softly, he moved to put and arm around her in a gesture of comfort.

"Yes. I do."

That seemed to be a good answer for Euphemia as she leaned back in to the hug, sighing happily. "So, you won't think too harshly of her?"

Staying quietly for her moment, Ciaran thought hard on how Cornelia had spoken to him, but he wasn't really sure what conclusion to draw from that. But he felt like he couldn't say no to her.

"I won't." He said simply, nodding his head, which had the effect of driving his head in to her head of hair.

That seemed to fill the princess with contentment as she nodded her own head, humming happily at his words before she replied, "Good."

Moving his arm off her, Euphemia sat upright before turning her head to look at Ciaran.

"I'm not happy that you two got in to a fight," She said morosely. "Especially since you two have gotten on so well together. But I'm glad that you don't think too harshly of her for it."

Again, mentally, Ciaran wasn't so sure what he really thought of Cornelia after their little spat, but for the sake of the young girl, he just nodded his head as he watched Euphemia stand up from her seat.

"Do you want something?" She asked.

"A can of pop will do." He replied. "I'm quite thirsty."

Nodding her head, the princess moved to the cabinet that held the television and leant down to open the lower half of the cabinet, before opening the minifridge held inside and retrieving a bright red can of cola. Turning around, she headed back to the reclining Briton and handed him the can.

"Since I don't think you'll be going anywhere," She said as Ciaran took the can from her hand. "I'll leave you to recuperate, so I'll see you later."

Smiling sweetly, she turned and headed towards the door, which confused the Briton.

"Where are you going?" He asked.

Opening the door, Euphemia stopped and looked at the man before she simply and sweetly said. "Just going to have a talk with my dear sister."

And with that, she closed the door, leaving Ciaran alone in his room. Absolutely confused by what he had just heard, the Briton decided that, since he couldn't really do anything right now, he might as well try and relax. Moving his body to sit upright, however, did little to alleviate the pain his head was in.

So, letting out an annoyed groan, he leaned back down and lay on to his side, using the cool can of cola as a makeshift cold-press.

"Well. This sucks." He said to himself forlornly.

---

The sound of her high-heeled boots filled Cornelia's ears as she made her way down to Ciaran's room. It had been just a little over ten minutes since she had had her argument with the young man, and just under five minutes since her little sister had frankly chewed her out for said argument.

God, but that was something she didn't want to remember. But it had happened. And it had worked brilliantly.

She honestly didn't think that Euphemia had had it in her to storm in to her office and, in front of Guilford no less, for her treatment of Ciaran. One sentence in particular stood out.

"How can you treat him like that when you promised to take him and look after him? Not only as a soldier but as someone in our family?" Euphemia had loudly said, staring pleadingly at Cornelia from across her desk, her hands pressing down on to the wooden surface.

And Cornelia had to agree with her in part. She had agreed to take Ciaran in and to take him in as a family member. But still, the young man had also willingly agreed to follow her as a subordinate officer in the military, her own Royal Guard too.

'So he should have known that it was not his place to question me like that!' She angrily said inside her head as she continued walking.

But he was, as Darlton pointed out, from a wholly different time and place to them. So what were the chances of him having views that aligned precisely with hers? At least they sort of lined up with Euphie's…

Stopping outside the door to Ciaran's room, Cornelia thought long and hard on what to say to him. He had laid out a perfectly reasonable suggestion, one that would work and she had up and turned it in to a shouting match. As if that wasn't enough, she then went and slapped him. Granted Ciaran did call her a… what was it again? A racist bitch? Yes, that was it.

Her hand still stung from it hitting his face. God, but she didn't want to imagine how hard it had must have hurt for him. And she did not need that chewing out from Euphie. That did not help her mood on the situation.

Reaching a hand up, Cornelia rapped her hand against the wood of the door before she quietly called out. "Ciaran? Are you in there?"

"Yeah, I'm in here." The Briton's voice came through from the other side of the door.

"Can I come in?"

"It's your palace." Came the reply.

Cornelia could not deny how much those three words stung her as much as they did, but she put that aside as she depressed the handle and pushed open the door, stepping in to the room.

A part of her did not really know what to expect, but to see the television on, blaring a simple kid's cartoon was not something she expected to see. But seeing the sullen form of Ciaran lying down on his side on the couch directly facing the TV with a hand over his left cheek was something she did expect to see.

"Hey." He said simply.

"Hey." Cornelia responded in kind as she closed the door behind her. "Are you okay? Euphemia sounded pretty distraught at what happened."

Ciaran nodded as a small but heartfelt smile came to his own face. "Yeah, she's a good one. But, no. I'm okay."

"Then why are you lying down?" The Second Princess asked as she moved towards him, a worried look on her face.

"Oh… well," Ciaran replied in a slightly worried tone. "Don't take this the wrong way but… you have a mean right hand."

"Huh?" Cornelia asked. "What do you mean?"

"Simply put: if I try and sit up, I feel like I'm going to be sick. I think you seriously knocked my equilibrium for six."

The purple-haired princess blinked in confusion at the man lying down in front of her before she looked down at her right hand. There was no way that it could have been that hard a hit, right?

But still, his head did snap round quickly and her hand did hurt a lot. And Euphemia did sound like she was afraid that Cornelia had done something to seriously hurt him, so it wasn't too outside of the bounds of reality.

"Let me have a look at you." Cornelia said as she knelt next to where his head was lying on the couch. Reaching forward, she gently took a hold of the hand pressed against his face before moving it off his cheek. It wasn't too much of a surprise to see a can of soda held in his hands but it was a shock to see the size of the red bruise on the left side of his face.

She could not help but wince at the sight of it. The blood would leak in to the soft tissue underneath the skin, causing the skin to darken horribly. She let out a sigh as she realised that it wouldn't do well for Ciaran to be seen walking around by his subordinates with a massive bruise when he didn't have one before he went to see her.

"There's not much we can do now but to keep it cold." Using a finger, she touched the metal of the can in his hand. "You'll need to get some proper ice on it."

"In the mini-freezer beneath the TV." The young man said, pointing to the panels below the large screen, prompting the Princess to move to her feet. "I'd have gotten some myself, but… you know."

"I know, I know." Cornelia responded as she headed towards the bathroom, searching for a hand towel that she quickly found before heading back in to the room and towards the area that Ciaran had pointed at. Opening the small door, the Princess reached in to the small freezer. Moving quickly, she pulled out the rectangular container filled with ice cubes before she began popping them out and on to the towel.

"All right, now this is definitely going to be cold." She cautioned as she pulled up the corners of the towel and formed a pouch, before she turned around and walked back to where Ciaran was lying down. Leaning down, she pressed the wet and cold fabric against the reddened skin on the young man's cheek, making him winch in response.

"Oooh! That is cold." The Briton repeated, moving around on the couch as he reacted to the cold. "But thanks."

Cornelia didn't say anything in reply as she sat down carefully on the portion of the couch near Ciaran's legs, crossing her hands gently across her knee.

"I want to say I'm sorry for hitting you." She said after a few moments. "But you have to understand; things aren't the same here as they were in your world."

"Cornelia, I'm sorry, but I cannot see why my idea is unreasonable."

"You're asking for Elevens to be mixed in with Britannians!" Cornelia snapped back. "That is not something that any Britannian commander would do."

"But I'm not Britannian." The reclining young man responded, which was fundamentally true.

"Oh, for the love… stop using that as your go-to response, Ciaran!" The Second Princess said as she pushed herself to her feet. "Do you not realise that if something goes wrong with your unit, it's me that will take the blame?"

"Then just say that I did it!" The Briton replied, gesturing with his free hand as best as he could to reinforce his point.

"That's not the issue here. The issue is you letting those Eleven bastards in to the army. In to a special forces unit which has access to the Viceroy's Palace. At a time when we are also fighting their own countrymen! At what point in your train of thought did you even think this through?!"

Without realising it, Cornelia had surged up to her feet, glowering at him.

To his credit, the Briton didn't shrink back from her gaze as he closed his eyes and took in a single breath before he spoke.

"Okay, Cornelia, I'll tell you what I was thinking. I was thinking that we take a vetted group of Honorary Britannians, no less than a platoon or two, and integrate them with the other platoons, mix them up. We get them all trained up, then let them take part in a few missions with the battalion." Ciaran paused as he took in a single breath. "Then we let the public know about us."

Cornelia's eyes shot up in shock as he jaws dropped. "What!?"

"I obviously mean the battalion."

"Oh, yes! That's what got me confused!" She responded sarcastically, throwing up her arms in exasperation. "Ciaran, you want the media to be told about the actions of a… of a clandestine military unit?"

"Technically, I never said that the battalion would be a clandestine unit." The Briton replied, holding up a finger to interrupt her. "At most, the battalion is a commando unit. So, the public knowing what we are, but not knowing what we do, is more what I had in mind for us."

Cornelia let her hands drop as she took in what Ciaran was saying. "Do… do you know what you're saying, Ciaran? You'd willingly let the whole of the Area, and possibly the entire Empire, know that not only are we using a new unit to fight the Black Knights, but also letting them know that we're using a mixed unit of Britannians and Elevens?"

"Yes, I know what I'm saying, Cornelia." Came the reply. "I know that the group we are fighting has very good publicity for them, which is something we need to counter. Zero is painting this fight as Britannians versus the Japanese. That's what he's making the public see. But, if we make the public see this as the Black Knights fighting against the Britannians AND the Japanese, then we get more positive publicity."

"That… that makes sense." Cornelia said to herself. It was a basic fact of any sort of military operation which involved fighting against the local populace, positive propaganda was the key to success. That was the theoretical thought, although none of Britannia's conquests over other areas really allowed for that approach to be tried out.

But she shook the thought from her head as she returned to looking at Ciaran. "Be that as it may, I cannot go through this."

"Why not?" The Briton asked, trying to move up from his seat. "The idea is… ugh, I'm going to be sick."

Moving quickly, Cornelia put a hand against Ciaran's shoulders as she carefully laid him back down on to the couch. "Easy, easy."

"Thank you." Ciaran said after taking a few calming breaths. "But seriously: the concept is sound. Why, as a military officer, a good military officer, will you not support it?"
Taking a single breath, the Second Princess prepared herself for what she was going to say.

"Ciaran, I think it should be obvious what my feelings towards Elevens are, but I'll say this bluntly: I HATE Elevens. I hate them with every fibre of my soul because of what they took from me."

From his position on the couch, the young captain only stared up at her as he tried to process what she had just said. "Took away from… Oh, you mean your siblings."

Reluctantly, Cornelia nodded her head. "This country took away the people that I love, and like hell am I going to give any Elevens a chance. Not before that bastard Zero is brought to justice."

Turning her head to look at the young man, she wasn't too surprised to see him looking at her in shock.

"Cornelia. You're damning an entire nation for the acts of a few people." He said in confusion. "That… I'm sorry, but I cannot accept that. I mean, I won't say that I don't understand your reasoning, but I just can't accept it."

Well, she saw that coming. "I've never asked you to accept it. I want to know that I cannot allow Elevens to work with Britannians."

"So, I guess we're at an impasse then." Ciaran said simply. "I can't use the battalion to its full potential without extra men, and you won't let me have the extra men until reinforcements arrive."

Stepping forward, Cornelia sat down on the couch next to Ciaran's legs. She could not deny that, with 332 Battalion only operating in one single part of Area 11, the military would have no ability to strike back against the Black Knights for at least a week in any meaningful way. And even when they did get the reinforcements, it would take a good few days, even a week, to quickly train them up in a way that would get them on a level with the Pathfinders.

Damn, this was a horrible situation.

Lifting her right leg up to rest on the couch while taking care not to catch the other occupant of the seat.

Reaching over, she gently put a hand on to Ciaran's leg, giving it a small rub.

"I'm sorry, Ciaran. But this is who I am." She said soothingly. She knew that it wasn't much of an excuse, but it was something. "To be fair though, I'm sure that there were many people who shared the same thoughts as I do. I think you said your Rhodesians were, but were there any others?"

For a few seconds, the young man was silent in thought, before he responded. "There were some other national governments that kept groups apart solely based on race."

"Care to enlighten me?" Cornelia asked, genuinely interested.

Shifting his position a bit so he could look at her better, the Briton spoke up.

"Well, the United States is an interesting example: a history of the destination of the slave trade from Africa because of the European powers then, nearly a hundred years after their revolution, they had a civil war about those slaves, to give the simple description, however the black population didn't really get anything near full citizen status until… it was either the nineteen-sixties or the seventies, I can't quite remember. And that's not including the Asian and Native American populations.

"However, the clearest example of a segregation by race is South Africa. From the mid-twentieth century, onwards, the South African government implemented something called 'apartheid' wherein the majority black population was banned from… well, pretty much everything really. Military service, government, almost everything a white person could do, a black person couldn't. They were 'officially' banned from the armed forces, but there were quite a few black or mixed black-and-white auxiliary units operating in the South African Defence Force."

"Really now?" That piqued the Princess' interest. "Give me an example."

"Well, during the latter portion of the Rhodesian Bush War, the South Africans came in to conflict with another country that had gained its independence by forceful revolution: Angola. Basically, the revolutionary Angolan government was using… oh, what is it called?"

Ciaran rapidly snapped his fingers of his right hand a few times as he tried to remember the name of it.

"Namibia!" He said in exasperation, finally remembering the name of the country. "They were using Namibia and other revolutionary groups in South African controlled Namibia to try and get the South Africans out."

"That area is huge!" Cornelia said in amazement, dimly remembering what she could from a world atlas of that area of Africa. "How did the South Africans cover it?"

"Basically, the same as the Rhodesians did, but since they had a larger army, they could have more bases, more vehicles and more men to cover the ground. Plus, they also made use of the local population of bushmen to help them."

"That makes sense." The Second Princess said, nodding her head. Using people who knew the lay of the land better was always the best way to get the drop on the enemy. And using them in conjunction with armoured vehicles and aircraft was even better. "And you say that South Africa was racially segregated?"

"Indeed, they were." Ciaran replied with a nod. "And yet, it didn't stop them using non-white soldiers when they need them. They even had a mixed battalion fighting in Namibia against the Angolans: 32 Battalion."

Cornelia couldn't help but let out a single bark of laughter. Now that was a cosmic coincidence if she ever heard one.

"Now… how long have you been thinking of doing a mixed battalion ever since I gave you the name?"

"Not as long as you'd think, really." Ciaran admitted. "I only really started thinking about it when I saw the problems we had."

Nodding her head in understanding, the purple-haired princess slumped back in her seat, pressing her back against the armrest.

"You said that South Africa was racially segregated. I'm assuming they're no longer split?" She asked in genuine curiosity. It was always interesting to learn about Ciaran's world.

He shook his head. "No. The Apartheid regime fell the same year I was born, in 1994. So just a little over twenty years now."

"And how has it affected the country?"

A thoughtful look came to Ciaran's face before he spoke. "It's… hard to say really. The rate of anti-white violence is high, but so is the rate of unemployment, crime and poverty. Although that's more because of the government rather than the desegregation. But twenty years is too short a time for wounds like that to heal."

"How long had that system been in place, give or take?" Cornelia asked.

"I'd say about… nearly a hundred years or so." The Briton said forlorn. "That sort of time frame can make reconciliation quite hard."

The Second Princess nodded her head in agreement. That made as much sense as anything. When the Old British government had quashed Washington's rebellion, there was still periodic violence between the American Whigs who fled the Thirteen Colonies and American Loyalists and that carried on for several decades. And then there were the wars against the Seminole tribes and the various tribes of the Western Plains. Decades of war and bloodshed, forced relocations and just the general unpleasantness of man.

"Ciaran," Cornelia said suddenly. "Do you know that Euphemia will become the Viceroy of Area 11 when it's deemed that I've done my duty here?"

A look of shock came to the young man's face. "I… I assumed that you'd be the one left in charge. Like… like what the Roman's did with their governors."

The woman shook her head. "Unfortunately, not. Once I'm done here with the Black Knights, I'll leave for the European Front and take command there, while Euphemia will be placed in charge here."

"And you're worried about what she'll be left with?" Ciaran asked, shifting his body around to look at Cornelia easier.

The Second Princess nodded. "If I could, I would do everything in my power to wipe out e

very single shred of resistance to Britannia, physical or not, just to keep her safe. But… I also want her to be happy. And she wants other people to be happy too."

Looking at Ciaran's face, Cornelia saw a small smile come to his face. "Yeah, that sounds like something she'd say."

"Indeed." The purple-haired woman said. "So, I really need to start thinking about her rule after I'm gone. I'd prefer to leave her with a stable place to rule, but we both know that's not going to happen easily."

"It could." Ciaran said simply. "We just have to be careful about it."

With that said, the pair were back at an impasse again. Sitting silently, Cornelia processed what Ciaran had told him about his world and the policies regarding race. It was true that it's a very different situation between their worlds, since Britannia was a centralized political system versus separate national political entities, but there were many things to learn. More specifically, the after effects of those racial policies.

Letting out a sigh, Cornelia gently swatted Ciaran on the top of his leg.

"All right. You win."

"What? Are you serious?" Came the reply, prompting a nod from the Second Princess.

"I am. You feel strongly about this, and you've also got some historical precedent for your plan to work to back you up, along with Darlton's approval, so I would be idiotic to refuse your plan."

The last part of the sentence was said with a slight intonement as she looked pointedly at Ciaran who, in return, looked away guiltily.

"Yeah, sorry about… well, all of that." He said honestly. "I think-"

"We'll blame it on the adrenaline." Cornelia said, softly rubbing the spot on Ciaran's leg where she had swatted him. "We all understand. We've been through the same thing. But you REALLY need to work on getting your emotions under control."

"I know. I've been told this before." He said with a shrug as he moved to look away from Cornelia.

"Don't worry. We'll work on it later." Cornelia said warmly. "But remember that this isn't a national policy. This is for your unit and your unit alone. I won't say anything else about the idea, but remember what you said to me: if this plan does fail, then it will be on your head."

Ciaran nodded his head. "Understood, Your Highness."

Still smiling, she stood up from her seat and moved to lean over the young man's head. Taking the hand that was on his cheek, she lifted it off before leaning down and gave the Briton a small peck on his still red cheek.

"Stay down for the rest of the day, then come and join us for dinner when you're ready and after that, we'll sort out your reinforcements. Okay?"

"Okay." Ciaran said with a nod as he put the icepack down on to his cheek.

Standing back up right, Cornelia nodded her head in response before she turned and strode out of the room, closing the door gently behind her.

---

The truck wheels rumbled underneath Suzaku's seat as it rolled along the highway towards the Viceroy's Palace. Dressed in his orange service dress uniform, he found himself beginning to fidget in his seat. Trying his best to stifle the urge to move in his seat and maintain at least the appearance of a professional soldier, he remembered the lessons taught to him by his father about the importance of good image.

"The stake that sticks out gets hammered down." His father said to the fidgeting young boy kneeling beside him in the hall of the Kururugi shrine, waiting to receive Taizō Kirihara in another government meeting. "You are the son of the Prime Minister, so behave like it."

That harshly-worded memory snapped Suzaku's mind to attention as he put his hands on to his knees and straightened his back, focusing his eyes on the road ahead.

From her position in the driver's seat, Cécile glanced over at the teenager sitting in the seat beside her. "Is everything okay, Suzaku? Your back shot up just now."

"It's fine, Miss Cécile." The brown-haired youth replied. "Just… remembering something my dad told me to stop me fidgeting."

The indigo-haired woman nodded her head before she turned her attention back to the road.

"I think that's the only time I've heard you mention your father, Suzaku." Lloyd spoke up from the back of the truck, the lavender-haired scientist sat typing away at his laptop. "Something on your mind?"

Suzaku shook his head. "I'd rather not talk about it, sir."

"Fine, fine." The bespectacled scientist said in a sing-song tone of voice. "Cécile, when we will arrive at the palace?"

"Umm… I'd say about ten minutes. Traffic's pretty good today." The woman replied, looking around the road from her seat.

From his seat, Lloyd let out a snigger. "I think being part of a military convoy helps."

Leaning to the side, Suzaku saw what the older man was talking about: to their front was the form of one the Britannian army's many jeeps, a lethal looking heavy machine gun sticking out from the top, while behind them, viewed from the wing mirror on his side, he saw three eight-tonne trucks trailing behind them followed by another jeep.

"It's strange though that they didn't tell us that we were going to be escorted along with these trucks." The Japanese youth noted.

"Yes, that was quite a surprise." Lloyd said earnestly, while at the same time not taking an eye from his laptop before dropping to a more lackadaisical tone of voice. "But I'm sure we'll find out soon enough."

Both officers in the front of the truck nodded their heads at the scientist's words before they lapsed in to silence again.

The motorcade travelled down the road way for a few more minutes. Even though the truck had a specialist hybrid motor to deal with its large size, it was still very quiet in the cab as Cécile continued driving the large transport vehicle. And ten minutes of silence was not bearable for some people

Once again, it was Cécile who broke the silence.

"So how are your studies going, Suzaku?" She asked amicably, not taking her eyes off the road as she turned the wheel to follow the jeep in front of them.

"Oh, it's good." Suzaku said a little too quickly for his own liking. "Um… we're mainly doing history right now, so that's not too bad. Science is mainly what I struggle with."

"Well you know that you can ask either of us for help, right?" The older woman asked with a chuckle. "I mean, we are both scientists, right Lloyd?"

Looking up from his laptop, the bespectacled man looked at Cécile in confusion. "Um… well, I don't really-"

"See?" The indigo-haired woman said flippantly. "After this is done, we'll look at your work and give you some pointers."

Suzaku wanted to protest, saying that it really wasn't something that Cécile should concern herself with, but the woman's tone of voice told him that he really shouldn't, so he kept his mouth shut and nodded his head.

Again, the interior of the truck slipped in to silence, the only sounds being the sound of Lloyd tapping away at his laptop's keyboard and the sound of the large vehicle rattling along the highway.

Lloyd's comments about their progress being made easier seemed to ring true as the travel time passed more quickly as the convoy reached one of the gates that led in to the Viceroy's Palace, the six vehicles filling in down one of the roadways that led in to the inner bowels of the large building.

"So why are we here again?" The lavender-haired man asked, closing his laptop and making his way to behind the driver's seat.

"Lloyd, I told you this before." Cécile said in exasperation. "We're to deliver the modified Lancelot Club for the Viceroy and Captain Forsyth."

This drew a sound of disgust from the man. "Oh of course. Only that man would be callous enough to defile the twin of my lovely Lancelot."

Suzaku had no idea how to react to that statement. He had to feel that the new additions to the Lancelot Club, kneeling in the back of the truck, were pretty cool. Admittedly, he was not a fan of the overall, but if that's what the captain had wanted, that's what the captain got. And when Princess Cornelia ordered it, there was even less choice in the matter.

Cécile turned the wheel of the vehicle to the side as the convoy turned a corner that lead towards the main hangar, being directed to their area by a technician using light batons. As they turned away, Suzaku looked out of the passenger side window to see what was going on.

On the left-hand side of the large space, stood three platoons worth of men dressed in woodland camouflage uniforms and grey body armour standing at attention, while behind them, stood a group of what looked like fifteen men and women, dressed in simple drab green flight suits, standing in front of what look like…

"Are those helicopters?" Lloyd asked from behind Suzaku's head, himself peering out of the passenger side window as the truck came to a stop. "What are they doing here?"

Looking to her side, Cécile looked out of the window as she put the truck in to park before her eyes opened wide in shock. "Those are helicopters. Mi-24 Valkyrs, if I'm right. Are we that hard up for gear after Narita?"

"It looks like it." Lloyd said as he straightened up from his position.

The sound of someone knocking on the side door of the vehicle drew the trio's attention as Suzaku and Cécile undid their seatbelts.

"Now remember to be polite, Lloyd." The indigo-haired woman stressed as she got up out of her seat.

"When am I anything but?" The scientist said with a shrug and a cocky smile.

Looking to her side, the older woman shared a look with the Japanese youth that basically said "Yeah, you tell yourself that" before the pair made their way to the exit of the transport, Suzaku bringing up the rear.

Making their way down from the cab and in to the main bowels of the transport, easily moving past the kneeling form of the Lancelot Club before coming to a stop opposite the exit. Reaching forward, Lloyd pushed the necessary buttons to disengage the locks on the door before pushing another button to make the door swing outwards.

And almost directly in to the face of General Darlton, making the scarred senior officer cry out in shock.

"Goddamnit!" Darlton cursed as he stepped back to avoid being struck by the metal.

"General Darlton, sir!" Both Cécile and Suzaku said in unison as they stood to attention and saluted.

"Major Croomy, Warrant-Officer Kururugi." Darlton responded, nodding his head before gesturing behind him. "You all remember Captain Forsyth?"

"Yes, I remember, sir. Captain Forsyth, sir." Suzaku said, nodding his head and saluted as he turned to look at the officer in question.

Behind the tall man, the Briton stood at attention. He was dressed in the same woodland camouflage uniforms as the other soldiers, although on his head, he was wearing a dark blue beret on his head, although from the looks of it, it had no insignia on it as the man saluted in response.

"Warrant-Officer Kururugi. Major Croomy." Ciaran said, turning to look at the indigo-haired woman.

"Captain Forsyth." Cécile said in response, copying the gesture.

"Captain Forsyth." Lloyd said, nodding his own head politely.

"Professor Asplund." Ciaran said flatly before a confused expression came to a face. "Did we just do that?"

For a few moments, everyone just looked at the Briton simply before Darlton burst in to a chuckle, clapping the captain on the back.

"And we put you in charge of a commando unit." The general said in a light-hearted voice as he shook his head before he turned his attention back to the Camelot members. "So, is it here?"

"Yes, it's in the back." Lloyd said in his usually flippant tone of voice, turning to gesture at the vehicle behind him. "If you'll kindly follow me, we'll get it-"

"Captain Forsyth, sir." A blonde man, wearing the same uniform as the dark-haired Briton, but with lieutenant's stars, appeared from around the front of the transport. "The men are ready."

Ciaran nodded his head. "All right, Nate. I'll be there right now." Turning around, he looked at the group from Camelot. "I'm really sorry about this but this is really important. I'll be five minutes, tops."

Lloyd looked like he was ready to say something rude, so Cécile cut in.

"It's perfectly all right, captain." She said in a professional manner. "We'll unload the Knightmare Frame for the technicians to deal with."

Nodding his head in reply, the Briton turned around followed the lieutenant around the truck and out of sight. Standing where he was, General Darlton crossed his arms over his chest as he watched the two men walk away before he turned his head to look directly at Suzaku.

"The son of the late Japanese Prime Minister." The tall man stated as he looked at the teen.

"Um… yes, sir." Suzaku responded, unsure about what the general was getting at.

Not saying another word, the general turned and headed in the direction that the two junior officers had gone before he simply motioned for Suzaku to follow him. Turning around, the teen tried to see if Cécile or Lloyd had something else to say on the matter, but the pair were equally unsure about what to do, so he followed Darlton.

Moving to come beside the general, Suzaku fell in to step as the Britannian walked towards the space past the transport. Directly across from them, the soldiers in woodland camouflage still stood in their ordered rows while standing at a right angle from them, the three eight-tonne trucks were parked with their rear ramps down while in front of them stood nearly sixty men standing at attention, all dressed in the dark grey battledress and body armour of the Britannian army. None of the men were wearing helmets though, which lead to a big surprise for the Japanese youth.

"They're Honorary Britannians!" Suzaku called out in shock as he saw that virtually all the men possessed the same skin colour as him before he promptly clamped his mouth shut. To his side, Darlton didn't say anything, merely giving him a sly smile before he put a finger to his lips.

"Quiet now, Warrant-Officer. Just watch."

Quietly, Suzaku watched as the British-born captain, tailed by his lieutenant, moved in to the middle of the space afforded by the right-angle of men before he stopped, putting his hands behind his back, standing at a form of parade rest.

"Platoons!" He called out in a loud bellow. "Stand at… ease!"

As one, all the assembled men, nearly one-hundred men in all, placed their feet parallel to their shoulders and their hands behind their backs. For a moment, the hangar was filled the with the noise of men moving in perfect synchronicity before it fell silent again.

Once again, Ciaran spoke up, turning fully to address the soldiers in grey uniforms.

"To the soldiers of the Britannian Foreign Legion, you Honorary Britannians; my name is Ciaran Forsyth! I am a captain of the Second Princess Cornelia Li Britannia's Royal Guard and the commanding officer of the newly created 332 Light Infantry Battalion. For those of you who don't know, which is literally all of you, we were created after the battle of Narita with the express purpose of combating the insurgent forces on this island.

"Our goal, with this new unit, is to find where the enemy is hiding, ascertain his numbers… and bring the fury of the heaven's down on to his head!"

Suzaku was surprised by the fervour in the man's voice, expecting him to carry on like he had heard so many speeches that his superior officers had given when he still wore the grey. But he was equally surprised when Ciaran's voice dropped in tone.

"However, we have run in to several problems, as so many new experiments do. The main one is manpower. Simply put: we need more men. And that's why you're here."

From his position, Suzaku heard confused murmurings in his native language before they were loudly silenced by a Britannian-born sergeant-major.

"Silence in the ranks!" He yelled out and the Honorary Britannians fell in to silence.

Unperturbed by the disruption, Ciaran continued speaking. "Normally, protocol would mean that we'd have to wait until reinforcements from Britannia to arrive before we began selecting for new recruits, but time is of the essence. The longer we wait, the longer time Zero and his cronies have time to prepare. And, frankly, the fact that you lot are just sitting around doing NOTHING offends me."

The boy's eyes shot open in shock while, to his side, one of Darlton's eyebrows arched in surprise, but neither said anything as the captain continued speaking whilst he began pacing back and forth in front of the men.

"I have heard nothing of Honorary Britannians volunteering for frontline duties, or to help in combating the insurgents… and that confuses me to no end. I mean; if anyone has the most to lose from this situation, it's you. Now, I ask this to you directly: how many of you have families in the ghettoes?"

For a moment, there was a small waver of movement among the ranks of the Honorary Britannians as they digested his words before, slowly, very slowly, almost every single hand rose in to the air, making Suzaku grimace.

It was a fact that when non-Britannians made the decision to become Honorary Britannians, they and only they were the ones to get the meagre rewards from it. Housing, no matter how simple, and a pay check, no matter how small; those benefits were theirs and only theirs. The regulations that Honorary Britannians signed themselves to meant that the ability to send money to relatives in the ghettoes was downright abysmal or non-existent.

"So, I'll ask: who is that's going to be rounded up and interrogated by the police? Whose lives are going to be made more difficult as the insurgents go around 'asking' for volunteers? And whose families are going to suffer at the hands of Britannians who feel it's their 'duty' to root out terrorist sympathizers in the ghettoes?"

An uneasy feeling fell across the men as they digested what was said. While most Britannians were, in a simple word, apathetic to the plight of non-Britannians, there were some of those who willingly took things too far under the guise of 'patriotic duty' and those were the sorts of people who would go stalking around the ghettoes in roving gangs, committing acts that made the populace of the ghettoes cower in fear and acts that the police turned a blind eye to.

"I'll answer for you:" Ciaran said flippantly. "It's your families, who will pay the price either way, since all of you are doing nothing."

Suzaku was surprised by what the Briton was saying. He was acting flippantly about the situation that the Honorary Britannians were in. While he wasn't directly blaming them for what was happening, he was quite implicitly saying that inaction imposed on them by the government was not helping the situation either.

In truth, he wasn't sure what to make of that line of thought.

"But!" The captain said dramatically, stopping his walk and holding up a finger for all to see. "I feel that keeping able-bodied men out of action when they could be used otherwise is a waste of resources! And that is why you are all here today."

Reaching in to one of his breast pockets and drew out a sheet of folded up paper, which be quickly unfolded and held aloft for all to see.

"I have a Decree Imperial here, from Princess Cornelia herself, saying that as of today, Thursday the Thirtieth of July, members of the Britannian Foreign Legion in Area 11 will be chosen to formally join the 332 Light Infantry Battalion in a full combat capacity."

Confused and excited murmurs erupted from the ranks of the Honorary Britannians and this time, the sergeant-major couldn't quiet them down.

Instead it was the sergeant-major dressed in the uniform of the 332 who got them to quiet down with a well-timed and well-yelled "SHUT IT!"

His voice rolled through the hangar, making practically everyone flinch in response before they promptly shut their mouths.

From his vantage point, Suzaku watched Ciaran bring a finger to his ear and move it around inside in discomfort. "Thank you for that, Mister Reynolds. And for those wondering if what I have said is a joke, then you should know by now that Princess Cornelia does not make jokes."

Holding the paper aloft again, he carried on speaking.

"I have asked the Princess for two platoons worth of men, and that is why you are here. You will still be legally classed as Honorary Britannians, but you will be given the same treatment as Britannian regulars: a regular pay, better accommodation and your families will be moved to specially prepared housing for them. I can't vouch for the quality of the accommodation itself, but they'll get beds and warm food. And they'll be kept safer there than in the ghetto."

Suzaku could see that the men wanted to express their joy at this, but an upraised hand from the captain, and fears of any more reprimands from the sergeant-majors, kept them quiet, but the look of joy on his own face was one that he knew they wanted to express.

"However, as with everything in this world, that comes with a price: we are a frontline combat unit. You will be in action, against men and women who are your own countrymen. That will test your resolve. But know this: if you are caught alive by the enemy… well, I don't know what they'll do, but I can imagine that it will not be pleasant. You have to be prepared to face that fact."

Folding the piece of paper back up, Ciaran retook the same stance he was in before.

"Now, I'll say this to you: I don't want anyone who wasn't want to fight. These fine bodies of men," he jerked his head to the side to indicate the original members of the battalion. "Are true dogs of war. They took to this concept like they were born for it. You, on the other hand, were essentially forced to fight. So, I won't take anyone who doesn't want to come."

The room fell silent again as the men absorbed the captain's words. Suzaku knew what they were feeling: since the choice to become Honorary Britannians, these men had all sorts of autonomy and choice stripped from them, so to be given the choice to become part of a unit? That was a very big choice for them.

"I'm afraid that I must see to matters concerning the Royal Guard, so Lieutenant Fick here will take over for me. But I shall say this: to those of you who choose to join us, you will no longer be seen as Honorary Britannians or Elevens. To me, you will be soldiers first and foremost. Think hard on your choice."

Turning, the captain handed off the Decree Imperial to the man behind him before walking off towards where General Darlton and Suzaku were standing.

"So? How was that?" He asked, a goofy smile on his face as he came to stand in front of the pair.

"Not bad." Darlton replied, looking past his head to look at the ranks of the Honorary Britannians. Following his gaze, Suzaku saw that Lieutenant Fick had moved to talk to the sergeant-major about what to do, while the Japanese men just stood there in confusion, still trying to process what had just happened. "I think you made quite a compelling case."

"Uh, C-Captain?" Suzaku asked, remembering at the last moment to address Ciaran by his rank and not his name. "Is that why we were brought here too? Was I…?"

"Huh? Oh! Oh, no, Suzaku." The Briton said as he realised what the teen was getting at. "That's not why you're here. That was pure coincidence, I assure you."

The teen nodded his head in understanding: that did make more sense. But what he had said before… it worried him.

"Sir?" He asked, not sure who to address. "Was… was what you said about the Honorary Britannians getting treated like the regular Britannians… was that true?"

For a few moments, both men were silent as they thought over the question. While the question earned an apologetic shrug from the Briton, it was Darlton who answered.

"Warrant-Officer, you of all people should know that Britannia rewards those who support them. We don't just hand rewards like this out to anyone, especially Honorary Britannians." The general shrugged his large shoulders. "But, as the captain said, the Viceroy is a woman of her word, so they'll get the stuff they've been promised."

Suzaku nodded his head. Life for Honorary Britannians was not as hard as the life of non-Britannians in Area 11, but in all honesty, it was only marginal. The only jobs Honorary Britannians could get were either menial work; builders, drainage workers, food stall vendors. All of the jobs that required as little training as possible and got as little pay in return. It was either that or joining the military.

Even then though, the Britannians were thoroughly strict about their own hierarchy. Britannians could mix with non-Britannians, but when it came to military affairs, non-Britannians were never allowed to serve in the same capacity as those they served. Instead, they were used in situations where they were considered to be expendable: searching hideouts of suspected terrorists, clearing minefields, probably some of the worst military operations that didn't require any serious training.

This sort of combination of Britannians and non-Britannians together, it was probably the best thing that he could think of to happen so soon after the invasion.

"So… who's idea was it to have Honorary Britannians join the unit?" Suzaku asked hesitantly.

"It was me." The British-born captain replied matter-of-factly.

The revelation caused Suzaku's eyes to open wide in shock, absolutely unbelieving in what he had heard.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the Britannian general held up his hand to silence him.

"Now's not the time for questions, warrant-officer. We've got a Knightmare to inspect."

Quickly remembering his reason for being here, Suzaku nodded his head.

"I'm sorry, General. Follow me, sir."

Moving around from the transport and past the opened rear section, the trio headed towards the area that had been set aside for receiving the new Knightmare Frame. The path there wasn't as cluttered or strewn with pipes as it so often was at the Camelot's quarters at the university, but Suzaku put that down to the fact that they were in the Viceroy's Palace.

"So, has the Lancelot Club been tested out yet?" General Darlton asked from in front of the Japanese teen.

"Uh, no, sir. Not yet." He said hesitantly. "Cécile- Major Croomy felt that, since the Club's performance is aligned more for Captain Forsyth's reaction time, then my operating it might… it might…"

"Throw it out of whack?" The general asked, arching an eyebrow with a smirk.

"… Basically." Suzaku replied.

"Makes sense." The Briton said as the trio continued walking. "How much has the professor been whining about it?"

"Ciaran." General Darlton said pointedly, giving the Briton a sideways glance. "Be nice. But that is a question, warrant-officer; How badly has Professor Asplund been taking this job?"

Replying the only way he could, Suzaku shrugged. "I don't really know. I've been in school a lot of the time that the Lancelot Club was being worked on, so I can't say. But from the moods he was in when I was there, he's just taken to it as he normally does with his experiments, I guess."

The two senior officers nodded their heads as the group approached the section of the hangar used for Knightmare storage. Nearly three dozen machines, a mix of Gloucesters and Sutherlands, stood silently in their corrals, unarmed but still able to radiate power.

In the middle of the group, in front of a section set aside for the personal Knightmare Frames of Cornelia and her Royal Guard, a new Knightmare was kneeling, silent and imposing. And in a completely different colour to the others.

"Oh, now that's awesome!" Ciaran couldn't help but enthuse, smilingly happily at the machine in front of them.

"Now that's a Knightmare." Darlton intoned, putting his hands on to his hips as he took in the sight of the newly redone Lancelot Club. And Suzaku was heavily inclined to agree with the both of them.

Kneeling in the open space, connected to various types of computers and machines by cables and wires of varying length and thickness, the Lancelot's half-brother (as Lloyd referred to it) was being prepared for connection with its pilot. Various orange-suited technicians worked around the machine, each man acting the guidance and direction of Cécile or Lloyd. It's pilot block was open, with numerous cables trailing out of it.

Suzaku had to admit, even crouched and with its weapons removed, the Club looked very intimidating. It's arms and legs, while held close its body, were covered in segments of square plates arrayed in a such a way to cover the entirety of the forearms and the shin and knee of the legs.

"Well they got the colour right." The Briton noted happily. "And they got rid of the horn too. That's a good start."

"Is it possible for you to go one minute without badmouthing my designs?" The voice of Lloyd suddenly sounded front in front of the group, forcing the trio to look down at him.

On the captain's face, a conflicted look came to his face as he thought hard on what to say.

"Well-" Ciaran began before the general promptly clamped a hand over his mouth, shutting him up.

"Let's just get this started up, shall we, Professor Asplund?" Darlton asked, a friendly look on his face.

Suzaku watched as Lloyd squinted at the captain in scrutiny before he gestured to the machine behind him.

"Well, let's get this over with." The scientist said. "Captain, how familiar are you with the original Lancelot?"

Taking his hand off his mouth, Darlton let the young man speak.

"Not so much, no. All I know is that the Lancelot is the first Seventh-Generation Knightmare."

Looking at the man, Suzaku couldn't help but miss the catlike smile that came to Lloyd's face as he turned to look at the Lancelot Club. "Well, allow me to enlighten you. The Lancelot is a completely new unit, meaning that everything was built from scratch. The Club, however, was made with the Sutherland as its base."

Turning around, the scientists motioned for the men to follow him.

"Follow me and I'll talk you through the specifics."

As the two officers moved to follow him, Suzaku remained standing where he was, unsure about whether to follow or not.

That was put to bed though as General Darlton called out to him. "Warrant-officer! Follow us. You need to know as much about this machine as Captain Forsyth does."

"Y-yes, sir!" Suzaku responded, jogging over to the pair quickly, just catching up with them as Lloyd began his explanation in front of one of the machine's large left leg.

"Since the machine is a mix of both mainstream and experimental parts, the Club's performance is a little bit peakier than the Lancelot." Lloyd cautioned, looking up at the green Knightmare. "But, since it's been tooled for the use of Captain Forsyth here. Following his… comments on the original iteration of the Club, we have also upped the armour using the explosive reactive plates on the legs, torso and shoulders."

"Well that's one way to do it." Ciaran said in honesty as he put a hand out and patted one of the square plates on to the Lancelot Club's leg.

"Explosive reactive plates?" Suzaku asked innocently. "I've never heard that term before."

"Really?" Ciaran asked in amazement.

"A little bit before his time, Captain." Darlton replied with a disarming smile. "And a little outside of his paygrade too. Warrant-officer, explosive reactive armour are basically two plates of metal which are placed around a slab of high-explosives. When enemy ballistics hit the plates, the explosives detonate, forcing the plates apart and destroying the enemy round. It's especially useful against shaped charges fired from RPGs and such."

"Too bloody right." The Briton added on, his hand still on the leg before he turned to look at Lloyd. "Although how does it affect the speed of the Frame?"

"It's marginal." The older man said, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Since the Club is, as I've said before, a mix of mass-produced and freshly-built parts, it's slower than the Lancelot, but not by much. The Lancelot can top about eighty miles-per-hour on road while the Club can only manage seventy, but when you get off-road, the difference is neglectable."

"What about its weapons systems?" The scarred general asked simply.

"Cécile is getting them ready now." Lloyd said. "Now, we took in to consideration the comments that were raised during Captain Forsyth's… 'evaluation' of the Club, we altered a few things. The Maser Vibration Swords are still included, although I'm afraid you'll have to make do with one because of the Club's main armament."

"Oh?" Ciaran said simply, arching an eyebrow in confusion.

"Cécile will tell you more. Oh, Cécile! Do you the Club's weapons ready?" The scientist hollered out as he turned his head to look over his shoulder.

"Almost, Lloyd." The woman's voice replied from the opposite side of the kneeling Knightmare. "I'm working on it now with some of the other technicians. Just bring them around."

Following the sound of the voice, the group of four circle around the Knightmare to where Cécile's voice came from before they found her. She was overseeing a group of technicians who were working over what looked like a small artillery piece.

At the sound of them approaching her, the indigo-haired woman turned around to face them before she threw up her hand in a salute to the general, only to be waved down.

"So, what's this new weapon then?" Darlton asked.

"It's right here, sir." Cécile said, gesturing to the weapon behind her. "It took a good few days to get it right, but I think you'll like the finished product."

Ordering the orange uniformed technicians out of the way, the major let the group see the weapon in full.

"We used a RARDEN L21A1 thirty-millimetre autocannon as the base weapon before we modified it to be used by a Knightmare Frame." She said, gesturing to the long-barrelled weapon. "The only problem we had was the ammunition feed, which is the reason why the Lancelot Club only has the one MVS."

Looking at the weapon, Suzaku could see where Cécile was coming from. The general design of the weapon was like the rifles used by other Knightmares, but the design was longer in length, with a longer barrel and a muzzle break. The pistol grip was offset too. Instead of being in the conventional position, it was put flush against the body of the gun, just in front of the rear of the gun.

Then there was the ammunition. Instead of a standard magazine, there was a long ammunition belt, probably about a metre and a half in length that trailed from the gun itself in to a large rectangular box, about two metres in length and one metre in width and depth.

"That is a big ammo drum." Ciaran noted in amazement. "Won't it… I don't know, offset the balance of the Club a bit?"

"We've tested it out. Don't worry." Cécile responded warmly. "The Frame keeps its balance well. However, we've found that to get a better result from the autocannon, deploying the landspinners gives a more stable platform."

Ciaran nodded his head as he approached the large weapon. "Is it able to take both anti-armour and anti-infantry rounds?"

"You've got a choice of high explosive and depleted uranium shells."

"How many rounds can it hold?" Darlton asked.

"Just a little over one thousand rounds." Cécile answered. "And the weapon sight is synced up to your head's up display in the cockpit. So, you don't need to technically aim it all the time."

"Ah, awesome." The Briton said, a smile on his face. "So, are we going to fire this up then, General?"

"Professor Asplund?" The scarred senior officer said, turning to look at the bespectacled scientist.

"Just give the order, general."

"All right, Ciaran. Climb inside." General Darlton said, nodding his head to the Briton. "Same as what you did with Nonette and myself."

Throwing his hand up in salute, the Briton nodded his head. "Aye, sir!"

"All right! All technicians, clear the area!" Cécile called out sternly. "Prepare the Lancelot Club for activation and live testing."

At the command, the numerous crewmen began their task as cables and wires were disengaged and spooled, while computers were shut down in sequence and wheeled off before the various men and women quickly rushed to prepared positions as the Lancelot Club was made ready for activation.

While all this was going, the scarred general turned and began walking towards a door at the side of the hangar. "Follow me, Professor Asplund. Warrant-Officer."

Deciding not to question the officer, the pair quickly matched their paces with his as the general lead them to a bank of elevators. Above their heads, a warning was broadcast over the loud speakers.

"All non-essential personnel are to move to designated safety areas until the all-clear is sounded."

As the message was repeated, the elevator door opened to let them inside.

"We're heading up to the control room. It'll give us the best vantage point of what's going on." General Darlton explained as he pressed the button to take the group up.

"I trust that you'll let Camelot keep the data that we collect from this little endeavour, General?" Lloyd asked, shooting the bulkier man a sideways glance.

"Of course." Came the response from the other man before the elevator dinged.

The room control room was made up of two layers, with a standing area at the front and behind a large viewing window while behind and above them, various computers and displays, all manned by members of the Royal Britannian Engineering Corps.

Moving to look out of the window, Suzaku saw the pilot block of the Lancelot Club slide in to place while the last of the technicians moved away to a safe distance.

A burst of static from a nearby radio preceded the sound of Ciaran's voice coming through.

"All right, I'm in the Club." He said. "Systems all look ready. Everything is reading green. I'm ready to move out for some further testing."

Turning around, Suzaku watched as General Darlton bent down slightly, looking at a small screen.

"How does it feel to sit inside?"

"It feels good." Came the reply. "It's really good. Not to sound weird, but it feels more like I'm wearing it than piloting it."

A smile creased the general's face as Suzaku moved around to look at the face of the dark-haired captain on the small screen while General Darlton spoke again. "Good to hear. Now, same rifle drill as with the Sutherland and Gloucester. But, try not to miss as often this time, okay?"

The young Japanese teen couldn't help but smile slightly at the unimpressed look that came to the Briton's face before he responded.

"Thanks for that, sir. Okay, I'm booting her up now."

Looking back out the window, Suzaku watched as the drab green Knightmare Frame powered up, unfolding its arms as it moved to stand upright.

From his vantage point, Suzaku couldn't help but be awed by the new visage of the Lancelot Club. While it was the same height as his own Lancelot, he could not deny that explosive armour attached to its legs, arms, chest and shoulders reminded him heavily of images of old samurai and Viking armour that he had seen in history text-books while the restructured head unit, with its removed horn and cheek protrusions, both additions replaced with a simple metal 'mouth-piece' made him think so much of a knight's armour.

It really was a brutal looking machine of war, and Suzaku couldn't help but shiver slightly as the machine turned its head to look at the control room window.

"I'm reading green all over the board, captain." General Darlton noted. "All right then. Power her up fully and take her for a spin."

"Will do, general." Ciaran responded with a smirk. "But first, I've been wanting to do this since I was first introduced to these lovely things."

The three exchanged confused looks as they watched the machine seem to flex its shoulder joints before balling its hands in to fists. Then, moving quickly, the fists collided with each other forcefully, the sound of metal striking metal rebounding through the hangar.

To his side, Suzaku saw Lloyd visibly flinch at the sight of the impact, while the general merely shook his head with a grin.

"This is going to be a fun demonstration." General Darlton said.

---

For the next hour, the Lancelot Club was put through its paces in the confines of the hangar. As expected, the machine could run rings around the more conventional Sutherlands and Gloucesters, also being able to turn tighter corners, which would be a boon in built up urban areas or woodland environments.

The weapons tests followed suit. The Maser Vibration Sword performed exactly as expected of it, the rapidly oscillating and super-heated metal easily cutting through dummy targets like a hot knife through butter. Literally. Even the one-handed nature of the sword, combined with the Blaze Luminous built in to the forearms, provided Ciaran with a good degree of tactical choice. And that was only increased by the inclusion of the RARDEN cannon.

Connecting the bulky rectangular magazine to the rear of the Frame, with the help of Cécile and her technicians, and hefting the weapon, Ciaran filled the hangar with the heavy, steady percussive bass bark of the thirty-millimetre cannon firing off. As Cécile had said, the machine managed to retain its balance even with the addition of the extra weight. And then there was the act of firing the weapon. Even on the move, with the long recoil system of the weapon, actual recoil was manageable enough that it seemed that, if the target was standing stationary, the Briton or any other pilot could get several rounds easily in to the enemy before they reacted. If they could react in time.

Overall, the young man's performance in the Lancelot Club was considered more than satisfactory, probably more so than his performance in the Gloucester. Using the technical data recovered from Ciaran's ejected pilot block, coupled with the data from Lady Villetta's pilot block, recovered from Narita, it was decided that both the Lancelot and the Lancelot Club would be more than a match for the red Knightmare Frame used by the Black Knight's ace.

However, with the British captain's duties as the commander of the Fireforce meant that, until such a time as when Princess Cornelia deemed the Britannian forces were to take the fight to the Black Knights, then the Club would be on stand-by.

So for the time being, the green Knightmare was placed in to one of the storage corrals, standing silently, but no looking no less deadly.

---

"Well," Cécile said happily. "I'd say that was a good bit of work we did today."

The Camelot staff were all seated in the main mess hall of the Viceroy's Palace, eating their lunch. The large room was mainly set aside for the contingent of the military that was housed in the Viceroy's Palace, but since Narita, the large room had become decidedly empty. So, General Darlton hadn't deemed it too much trouble for the staff of Camelot to have their lunch with the members of 332 Battalion.

Looking up from his meal, Suzaku nodded his head to the indigo-haired woman. "I honestly didn't think the Lancelot Club would be so…"

"So what?" Lloyd asked, looking up from his second bowl of chocolate pudding, obviously interested in what the young man wanted to say.

"I don't know." Suzaku admitted after a few seconds. "It's amazing how completely different the machines look now."

"What do you mean, Suzaku?" Cécile asked, looking at the teenager intently.

"I mean, like… The Lancelot has the ability to save lives, and I've done that. But the Lancelot Club. It looks the complete opposite."

For a few seconds, both Britannians merely looked at him for a few seconds before turning to look at the other, obviously unsure about how to respond.

"Suzaku?" Cécile asked. "As a soldier, you do know that you have killed people to save the lives you've rescued, right?"

The teen nodded his head, slightly confused by the question. "Yes, I know that. But… when I fight in the Lancelot, I know that I'm fighting to save people, Britannian and non-Britannian, and the Lancelot gives off that feeling. But the Lancelot Club doesn't. It's more like…"

"He's the Black Knight." Lloyd said thoughtfully, sounding like he was reciting a memory.

"What?!" Cécile asked incredulously. "Lloyd, I know you don't like him, but that's a serious accusation to make."

Rolling his eyes, the lavender-haired scientist spoke again. "No, not A Black Knight. He's THE Black Knight. He's the opposite of the White Knight. It's a literary thing."

"What do you mean?" Suzaku asked, not really getting the relevance of what the older man was getting at.

"Well, basically put; the white knight is the man who saves lives and the black knight ends them. It's a basic literary rule."

For a few seconds, Cécile and Suzaku just looked at Lloyd in confusion, obviously having no idea what to say until someone spoke up behind the Japanese teen.

"Yeah, but there's always exceptions to a rule."

Turning around, Suzaku looked up in surprise to see Ciaran, still dress in his uniform but minus the beret, standing behind him, a confused look on his face and his arms crossed over his chest.

"Oh, you're a literary master now?" Lloyd asked, looking at the man simply.

"Well, I've read a fair few books." The Briton replied with a shrug. "Like there was this story I read about a mercenary company during the medieval period, where one man wore black and the other wore white. Both were vicious fighters, but the one in white armour was very manipulative, cruel, fucked the king's daughter, etc. To cut a long story short, the guy in white basically betrayed every one of his friends for power and the guy in black wants to kill the other guy."

The three Camelot members merely looked at the man before Lloyd spoke up. "That's a bit of a specific example, isn't it?"

In reply, Ciaran shrugged. "Just a bit. But I can give you an incredibly old example of how the colour white is not always used by someone nice."

Turning his head to watch him, Suzaku arched an eyebrow as Lloyd leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms across his chest. "Okay, this should be interesting."

Looking back up at the standing man, the Japanese youth watched the captain take in a small breath of air, before closing his eyes, he began reciting.

"And in the midst of the great beasts, I heard a voice say; 'Come and see.' And I looked and behold, a white horse. And his name that sat upon him was Death. And Hell followed with him."

The dark-haired teen didn't know how to respond. That was not something he'd heard before and, to be honest, it was kind of creepy too.

"Are you saying that Suzaku is one of Four Horsemen?" Cécile asked, sounding as angry as she did at Lloyd before, while obviously getting the reference.

"What?" Ciaran blanched. "No, of course. I was just giving an example of when something that is white but isn't good. In a literary sense, of course."

Looking across the table to the others, Suzaku merely looked at them in question, still understanding the relevance of what was being said, before Lloyd shrugged his shoulders. "That's from the Bible, Suzaku. The Book of Revelations. It's to do with the end of the world."

"Oh!" The teen said in reply. "That… that's a little bit creepy."

"Yeah. Religion is kind of like that." Ciaran said, shrugging his shoulders. "Did you know that it was Zoroastrianism that technically created the concept of a single God-figure?"

As he opened his mouth to reply, not really knowing what to say since monotheistic religion had never really taken root in Japan mainstream, Suzaku was cut short as Lloyd spoke up again.

"A very interesting fact, captain. But I doubt you came here to discuss religion. What do you want?"

For a few seconds, the Briton looked like he was going to give a rude retort. But instead, he simply thumped his fist against his forehead as he grimaced.

"Ah, of course." He said before he turned to look at Cécile. "Major Croomy. Since you and your staff are going to be here for a while, would it be all right I have Suzaku here join me for a drink?"

Suzaku's eyes opened wide, both at the fact that the man had remembered about his promise to have a drink with him, but also mainly at the fact that he thought that Cécile was the main head for the Camelot group.

"Of course, that's fine." The indigo-haired woman said pleasantly. "Just don't be gone too long."

"Now wait a minute, Cécile. He can't just take our devi-gahah!" Lloyd began before he let out a pained gasp, one that could have only come from the female officer harshly pinching him on the leg.

"Don't mind Lloyd, Ciaran." She said amicably. "I think it's good for Suzaku to familiarise himself better with the pilot of the Club and this is a good chance. Isn't that right, Lloyd?"

The bespectacled scientist didn't let out a word so much as he let out a sound of agreement before Cécile turned to look at the teen. "Right, Suzaku?"

"Yeah, of course." Suzaku said happily, to which Ciaran replied with a warm smile.

"All right then. Come on. I've got a good place for drinks."

"Wait, we're not staying here?" The young Japanese teen said in reply, even as he stood up from his seat and began following the man who was walking away.

"Well not to insult this fine establishment, but we could certainly do better for drinks." Ciaran stated as he walked past the table of his own men.

"Oh, okay." Suzaku replied as he simply walked behind the Briton, watching him as he exchanged a few words with the men wearing the woodland camouflage uniforms. Looking around, though, he didn't see any Japanese faces. "Where are the Honorary Britannians?"

"They're being brought up to speed on the nature of our unit and how we fight. Just filling them in on the info that they weren't told when they were selected for this job." The British captain replied.

Nodding his head, the dark-haired teen understood that but he didn't feel the need to say anything in response. He wasn't in this unit so he didn't really need to ask for more information as he followed the Briton in to one of the elevator's that lead up to the higher levels of the Palace.

After a few seconds of travelling up, the elevator door opened in to one of the hallways in the interior of the large building. To both his left and his right, the teen could only see more hallways branching off on either side.

"Down here on the right." Ciaran said, leading the confused teen to the right before taking him out in to a hallway that was obviously closer to the outside of the large building, judging from the large bay windows.

Following the Briton, Suzaku was awed by the grandiose nature of the Viceroy's Palace. Even just being in the hangar showed how large this building was, but walking down the hallways of the interior, he fully began to appreciate how big it was. Arches, made from pure white marble, held up a ceiling tall enough to comfortably hold a Knightmare while large windows built in the style of the Old World let in tonnes of natural, late morning sunlight.

"Just down here, mate." Ciaran said, pointing at a corridor that led to the right.

Not saying anything, Suzaku simply followed him as he made his way down the hallway. He had to take his word for it since this place was so large that he would have no problems getting lost.

"How long did it take for you to figure out where everything is?" He asked the Briton.

"It's not too hard really." Ciaran replied with a shrug. "All of the areas for recreation are towards the interior of the middle levels. Once you make two or three trips, you figure things out."

Suzaku nodded his head in understanding as he followed the older man down a series of twists and turns until they reached a set of double doors with the words 'OFFICER'S MESS' stamped on the door.

"Oh, it's the officer's mess?" Suzaku said in confused worry. "Should… will I be allowed in here?"

"Don't worry, lad." Ciaran responded with a disarming smile. "You're with me, so you'll be okay."

As the captain pushed open the door, Suzaku was surprised to see the interior of the room… and the fact that it was almost virtually empty apart from the man behind the bar.

"Good morning, Captain Forsyth." The man said with a happy smile before it dropped in confusion. "Is he allowed to be in here?"

Suzaku grimaced slightly at the man's question. Although given the current situation, he wasn't sure whether it was because he was an Eleven or because he wasn't an officer.

"It's all right, mate." Ciaran said, closing the door behind the pair. "He's with me. Two half pints of cider."

The man behind the bar and Suzaku arched an eyebrow at the request.

"Uh… Ciaran?" The youth asked in a whisper. "We're both on duty."

"Technically, Suzaku; we're on a break. So, I think we can deal with a half-pint."

"But…" Suzaku whispered quickly. "I'm only seventeen."

The Briton just looked at him blankly for a few seconds before he shrugged. "And? Practically everyone drinks before they're legal, so it's fine. Plus, no-one will find out. Two half-pints of cider, please."

"We've only got bottles, captain." The barman said, reaching down underneath the bar before snapping off the pair of bottlecaps. "Here you go, gents."

"Thank you." Ciaran said, moving towards the bar and taking the drinks in hand before he turned and pointed to one of the booths. "We'll sit there."

Not saying a word, the Japanese teen headed towards the indicated area, a booth made from large seats covered in deep red leather facing each other with a table between them. Sliding on to the left side seat, Suzaku waited until the captain sat down and slid his bottle over to him. Taking it carefully, he wasn't sure what to do until he looked up and saw Ciaran take a swig from his own bottle.

Deciding not to be rude, Suzaku bought the bottle up to his lips and took a small swig of his own. Almost immediately, his tongue was hit with the strong taste of apples which managed to mask the slight burn of the alcohol, making him grimace slightly. In front of him, Ciaran chuckled slightly at the display.

"Yeah. Alcohol always tastes rank the first time you try it." He said sympathetically, looking down at this own drink fondly. "But cider's still one of the better ones to start with, I feel."

"If you say so." Suzaku responded, putting his bottle down on to the table. "So… what do you want to talk about?"

For a few moments, the Briton had a contemplative look on his face before he spoke. "Well, to be honest, I kind of want to know a bit about yourself."

"R-really?"

Ciaran nodded. "A young man, of obvious Japanese birth, willingly serving in the Britannian military, handpicked to pilot probably one the most advanced Knightmare Frames in existence. And on top of that, you're in an all-Britannian school on top of that. Honestly? I'm impressed."

Blinking his eyes in confusion, Suzaku suddenly remembered that the man in front of him wasn't Britannian, so what he'd said was meant fully as a compliment.

"But… you're in Cornelia's Royal Guard?" He asked. "Can't you just… look up my file or something?"

While he was being asked this, the Briton had brought his bottle up to his lips and had been in the process of drinking. Taking the bottle away from his lips, he looked at the young man sitting across from him with a nonplussed look on his face.

"Suzaku. I've been taking part in forming a new military unit, which includes getting personnel, equipment and weapons for it. That's included on top of all of the other duties I have as a member of the Royal Guard. Do you think I'd be given the time to go and look up the file of one soldier? Especially an Honorary Britannian?"

"Uh… no, you're right." Suzaku replied, nodding his head. It was a bit much to ask, but in a way, it was nice of the man to take the time out to actually talk to him. "So, what do you want to know?"

A pensive look came to the Briton's face as he thought about what to say.

"Well, let's go with one I've been wanting to ask for a while: what do your parents think about you working with the Britannians?"

Suzaku blanched at the man's words. He knew that it was an innocent enough question, but it still stung deeply to hear that question asked.

"Umm… well… the truth is…" He stammered out, unsure of how to continue. Luckily though, his conversational partner understood what was going on.

"Oh! Oh, jeez, I'm sorry mate." Ciaran said in response. "That was crass of me."

"No, it's all right. You didn't know."

"Heh." The Briton chuckled. "Euphemia said the same thing when I brought up her older brother."

"Euphie… said that?" Suzaku said quietly. Was she talking about Lelouch? No, it had to be Clovis. But would it be too surprising that she would talk about the pair as if they were dead? That's what they had been told after all-

"Euphie?" The Briton's questioning voice cut in to Suzaku's thoughts, causing the young man to look up.

"Huh?"

"Who's Euphie?" Ciaran asked, looking genuinely confused.

"Uh… Princess Euphemia." Suzaku replied disbelievingly. Wasn't this man a member of the Royal Guard for both Princesses? So he should know her nickname.

"Heh." The man chuckled, reaching up and scratching at the facial hair on his left cheek with a small smile on his name. "I know that Cornelia called her that. But I didn't think that anyone else was allowed to call her that."

That made sense, Suzaku thought to himself as he took another swig from his bottle, grimacing once again at the taste.

"Wait." Ciaran asked, looking confused. "Why are you allowed to call the Third Princess by her nickname?"

His eyes flitting around in confusion, Suzaku responded. "She… she asked me to call her it."

His mouth open in confusion, the Briton spoke in confusion. "When… when did you meet Euphemia?"

"It was a day or two after Zero revealed himself and my trial." Sheepishly, he continued speaking. "We kind of… literally bumped in to each other."

"Trial?"

Suzaku could not help the look of confusion of his own that came to his face as he looked at Ciaran's face.

"You really don't know?" He asked.

"Suzaku." The older man said, sounding like a teacher talking to a student as he leant forward. "I am seriously out of a loop on so many things that have happened. Especially to you. So, what was this trial?"

"I… I was framed as the person who killed Prince Clovis. I was framed by the Purists." Suzaku said nonchalantly, like it happened every day.

"The Purists, eh? Well then… I'll have to talk to Villetta about that…" The Briton said in annoyance, looking off in to the distance before turning to look at Suzaku with a small smile. "So… Shall we just skip the talk about parents then?"

"Uh, no, it's fine." The Japanese teen replied, the act of responding to his seniors and superiors too well ingrained in him to say no. "Well, my… my father was the Prime Minister of Japan before the war."

Across from him, the Briton merely looked at him in surprise, blinking his eyes, as he took in that information. "That's… that is surprising, if you don't mind me saying. Although now that I think about it, not much is said about him. What's his name?"

"Genbu. Genbu Kururugi." Suzaku replied in a melancholy tone. "He killed himself before the Britannians finished invading Japan."

'How long am I going to have to keep telling that lie?' He asked himself as he remembered that night, no matter how much he wished he couldn't.

"Ah." Ciaran simply said. "I'm almost afraid to ask, but… your mum?"

"She… she died giving birth to me." Suzaku said, a little bit more sure of himself with this topic but still uncomfortable about the whole thing.

The man in front of him didn't say anything in reply, merely shifting his look down to the bottle in his hands. Taking a grip on the body of the bottle, he brought it up to his mouth and took a swig before swallowing it.

"This is the complete opposite of how it went with Euphemia." Ciaran admitted, putting his bottle back down and a guilty smile on his face.

Not even thinking, Suzaku began chuckling at the response, slapping his left hand gently on to the table. Across from him, the Briton began chuckling along with him, the sound quickly filling the space of the empty officer's mess.

Taking another drink from his bottle, Ciaran looked at the teen across from him again as he spoke. "But still, that brings up another question: what's the son of the former Prime Minister doing fighting for the very people who subjugated his people to the rule of a foreign power?"

Letting this thumbs play against the neck of the bottle in his hands, Suzaku thought long and hard on the question, trying to come up with the answer.

"Before Britannian invaded, my friend Lelouch and his sister, Nunnally, lived with me and my father for a time. But… when the invasion happened, we got separated and I never heard from them for seven years. To be honest, I got in to the military because I hoped that I could do anything to find them."

"Seven years?" Ciaran said in awe. "That must have been difficult in no small way. Did you find them?"

Nodding his head, the Japanese teen continued. "Yeah, I found them at Ashford Academy, believe it or not. It wasn't too long before I met you, actually."

"Oh, that's good."

"It was. But it was during that time that I found another reason for joining the military. You've seen the ghettoes, haven't you, Ciaran?" He asked, looking up at the man in front of him.

"Yes. I have." The Briton replied morosely.

"So, you know how much the Japanese are suffering, right?" The teen asked, getting in to it now. "Not just them, so many people in the Empire are suffering. I know that the Empire is not perfect, and I know that there are problems higher up in the chain of power, but… but I want to help them. I want to be able to help those people the only way I know how."

That had piqued Ciaran's interest, the man leaning forward and resting his hands on top of the bottle before putting his chin on top of them. "And how do you plan to do that?"

Taking a breath, Suzaku prepared to reveal something that he never thought he'd be revealing to a member of the military, let alone a Royal Guardsman.

"I want to work my way up the ranks." He said flatly, fixing his eyes on to Ciaran. "To work my up to the highest ranks that I can in Britannia, and to work to change this Empire for the better. For everyone. Japanese, Britannians. Everyone."

Across from him, the Briton merely stared at him blankly for a few seconds before a small smile came to his face. "So, you're an idealist. Praise be."

A smile of his own came to Suzaku's face at Ciaran's words. But the fell quickly as the man continued speaking.

"Although I really think you should probably think that plan through more carefully."

Suzaku looked at the man across from him with a dumbstruck look on his face. "I know that, Ciaran, but Britannia rewards those-"

"Suzaku." The Briton said bluntly. "Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to get Cornelia to agree to letting Honorary Britannians serve in the same unit as Britannians?"

The dark-haired teen shook his head.

"It took her slapping me, hard, and a butt load of sympathy for me to get her to come around."

Suzaku's mouth dropped slightly at that revelation. "She… she slapped you?"

"Yes, she did." Ciaran stated bluntly. "So, if that's the level that I need to go to get two platoons of men, what lengths are you willing to go to, to accomplish your goal?"

That question stopped Suzaku's train of thoughts right there.

"What do you mean?"

Taking a small sip from his bottle, the man across from him looked him straight in the eyes, the Briton's blue-green eyes clashing with Suzaku's green eyes.

"Like, what in your mind is the line between right and wrong? What line are you willing to cross to reach your goal?"

Truthfully, Suzaku couldn't really believe the question that he was asked.

"I don't get what you mean. When you gain results the wrong way, what are you left with in the end?"

"But what to you is the wrong way?" Ciaran asked bluntly, looking directly at the young man across from him. "That's what I'm asking you, Suzaku."

"If you're asking if I'd do something illegal to reach my goal," Suzaku responded bitterly. "Then I'd have to say no."

"But your right way will invariably be someone else's wrong way. It's all a matter of perspective." The Briton said calmly. "Zero's told the Japanese people that the only way to get their freedom is through violence. You'll need to do something that makes your way of doing things different to both the Britannians AND the Black Knights. But not everyone will accept you for that. Can you live with that?"

It was no lie that Suzaku had thought long and hard on this very question. He knew that he could never forgive himself for what he had done to his father, but if he fought hard for Britannia and the Japanese people, then he could wash away the stain of his life. At least partially.

"If I succeed, then how I am viewed will be pointless." He said plainly. "Besides, individual emotions are the reason why we're in the trouble we're in right now."

Across from him, the Briton shrugged his shoulders. "Can't really fault that logic. But I feel I have to point out: it's because of your emotions as an individual that led you to your idea."

Silence filled the room as Suzaku took in what Ciaran had said before he lowered his head to look at the bottle in front of him.

Seeing the forlorn look on the young man's face, the Briton spoke up again. "Changing the subject: how's school going for you?"

The young man opened his mouth to speak but the shrill sound of a telephone ringing filled the air, going for a couple of rings before the man behind the bar picked up the phone.

"Officer's mess." He said gruffly before he perked up and listening to the voice on the other end of the line. "Warrant-officer Kururugi, you say?"

"Oh that's me!" Suzaku said, holding up one of his hands, making the barman look at him before he turned his attention back to the phone.

"Yeah, he's here, major. All right, I'll tell him. Goodbye." The man said before setting the phone back on to it's receiver and turning to look at the teen. "Major Croomy needs you to return to the hangar ASAP. They're getting ready to leave."

"Oh!" Suzaku said in amazement. He had completely lost track of time. "Were we away for that long?"

"Well, it is a big place." Ciaran said in reply as he moved to stand up from his seat. "Do you want me to walk you back to the elevator?"

The dark-haired teen shook his head. "No, it's all right. I remember the way, so it's fine. Just... thank you for the drink."

The Briton nodded his head as he smiled. "You're welcome. And I'll see you again sometime. Hopefully outside of combat."

Suzaku wanted to chuckle at the remark, but the man's words were still going through his head. So instead he just politely nodded his head, like his father had taught him to do before he turned away and headed to the door, opening and closing it without a word as he moved in to the hallway, quickly shifting in to a jog as he headed to his left.

---

Watching Suzaku close the door behind him, Ciaran slumped back in his seat and let out a weary sigh.

"What's happening to me?" He said softly to himself. "I'm sitting in a bar drinking in the middle of the day and I've basically told a teenager why his idea is shit. God, I'm getting old before my time."

Reaching forward, he picked up his bottle and gave it a small swirl, seeing how much cider was still in it.

About half full.

Setting it back down, he leaned over the table and picked up Suzaku's now discarded bottle to see how much was in it.

Just below the bottleneck.

"Ah, that's a waste." He mumbled unhappily. "Teenagers…"

That seemed to be a continuous fact that connected universe together: teenagers think that the world can be seen purely as black and white. It was simple, it was easy, it was fucking annoying.

The idea that there was always a 'good' way and a 'bad' way was so fucking irritating, especially when life finally hit you with the truth that there was no true 'good' way. Just that you 'good' way was just a little worse than you 'bad' way.

Suzaku and Kallen seemed to be the quintessential examples: both were so dead set in their own views that they were incapable of seeing either side as having any people. The get around the potential problems their actions could cause, they had to disconnect their enemy from humanity. They had to see their opponents as the faceless, the inhuman.

That wasn't to say that he didn't understand that way of thinking. Ciaran knew that he was guilty of doing the same thing. Like in the forests of Yamanashi. When he shot those people, he didn't view them as people. He just saw them as targets to shoot, although that was more for practical reasons against any ideological reason: if he didn't kill them, they'd try and kill him.

It would be a hell of a jolt to their system when they realise the truth and it could seriously hit them hard.

The sound of the door to the officer's mess opening drew him out of his thoughts as he moved his head upright and he saw Villetta, still dressed in her helicopter pilot suit, standing in the threshold of the door, looking decidedly miffed.

"There you are." She huffed out as she walked in to the room, closing the door behind her, coming over where Ciaran was sitting. "I've been wandering all over the damn place looking for you."

"Really?" The Briton asked in confusion as he checked his watch. "I've only been gone for… fifteen minutes."

That deflated any anger in the tawny-skinned noblewoman at the revelation. "All right, so I was looking for you all over the hangar before I found out you were here. But I really need to talk to you. Have you been drinking?"

"Just a little bit." Ciaran replied, holding up his bottle and swilling it around a little bit. "The other bottle isn't mine though."

Reaching over, Villetta picked up the second bottle and lifted it up. "Yes. I heard that you were here with Kururugi."

"Yes, I was." He said simply. "What did you want, Villetta?"

Biting her lower lip, obviously unsure about how to continue before she decided to simply sit down.

"Why did you tell anyone about the Princess' plan to integrate Honorary Britannians in to our unit?" She asked.

"It wasn't her plan. It was mine." Ciaran said in reply, his face impassive as he watched the golden eyes of the noblewoman across from him opened wide in shock.

"You… you what?!" She snapped in alarm. "Why would you do that?"

Crossing his hands over the other, the Briton leaned forward in his seat. "Villetta. This is not a conventional war. I have made this abundantly clear. We cannot win this war by force of arms alone. Counter-insurgency wars are propaganda wars, first and foremost."

For a few seconds, Villetta continued looking at him in confusion before realization clicked in her mind.

"And if we have Elevens in our ranks, then that sends a message to the others that we're fighting with them, not against them."

Ciaran couldn't help the smile that came to his face as his second-in-command clicked on to what he was telling her. "There you go."

The smile on his own face as a look of betrayal came to Villetta's face. "But why wasn't I told about this? Do you not trust me or something?"

The young man couldn't deny that accusation stung quite a bit. She was his junior officer, so it was understandable that he should tell her about his plans.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," Ciaran said earnestly. "But… given your history and from what Kururugi told me, I couldn't be sure of what your reaction would be."

"Okay, I guess I deserved that." Villetta said forlornly, shrugging her shoulders gently before she reached over gingerly and took the bottle of cider in her hand. "So, what did he tell you?"

"Just that you framed him for the murder of Prince Clovis." Ciaran said, taking his own bottle in to his hands.

After a few seconds, Villetta looked up at the man across from him with a guilty little grin. "Yeah… kind of. Well… it wasn't technically framing. We only had some very basic facts: Clovis was murdered during an operation against Elevens, the son of the former prime minister was part of the task force and his gun was found. Now THAT bit… was really us jumping the gun, but I'm sure you can see why we did what we did?"

Bringing up his own bottle and taking a small drink before he shrugged simply. "I can see the logic. But I have to ask: did you let him testify against his charges?"

The woman across from him opened her mouth to speak before she slowly closed it followed by quickly bringing her drink up to her lips and taking a big swig from the bottle.

"Yeah, that sounds like he was framed." Ciaran said coldly, swilling his own drink around in its glass container.

"But I'm past that!" Villetta said loudly, earnestly and adamantly. "You know that, Ciaran. Hell, the fact that I'm even working with you says it all. So why can't you trust me?"

If that was anything, that was another slap in Ciaran's face. She was right. To even willingly work under his command, a Britannian serving under a Briton, it said something about her character.

"You're right. I should have told you when I came up with the idea." He said flatly, feeling ashamed at himself. "I'm sorry."

The corners of Villetta's lips twisted up in to a small but sincere smile. "Apology accepted."

Suddenly, the memory of how he had yelled at her two days before flared up in Ciaran's mind, causing his head to snap up. "And, I also want to apologise for how I acted the day before yesterday. That wasn't how a captain should act to his junior officers."

"You don't have to apologise for that, Ciaran." Villetta said simply, taking the young man by surprise.

"Huh?"

"You're young. Usually captains are a couple of years older than you are, even with purchased commissions." She explained. "I mean, you're good, but you're not that good. Plus, I think that being away from your lover won't do wonders for you."

"Huh?"

"Come on. I wasn't blind." She said warmly. "I saw how happy Dorothea makes you. Having her so far away must make you feel quite bad."

Ciaran let out a gentle sigh. "I try not to think about her. But when I do, it makes me depressed."

"And depression mixed with adrenaline really does not do well for your mental state." Villetta said knowingly. "Give her a call. It'll be good for you."

Turning up the corner of his lips, Ciaran smiled up at her. "I'll do that when I can. So, does that mean-"

"That means we're fine, Ciaran." Villetta said simply, taking another drink from the bottle in her hand. "But I will say that you might need to learn to control your emotions a bit better."

Leaning backwards in his seat, the Briton let out a low chuckle. "Yeah, my parents used to say the same thing. And my teachers."

"Yes, and now your second-in-command says so too." The tawny-skinned noblewoman said, grinning happily at him. "So, what's the plan for using these Elevens?"

"Well, we'll be splitting and reorganizing the platoons so that there's several Honorary Britannians in each platoon." The dark-haired man responded, holding up a finger to punctuate his point. "We'll bring them up to speed with the purpose of our battalion, train them up, then we'll start fully sorting out the problems we've got."

"Problems?" Villetta asked in confusion.

"It's nothing with your aviators." Ciaran said calmly, shaking his head. "Although in broad terms, it does involve your lot."

"So, what's the plan then?" The woman asked intently, pushing her bottle aside to lean forward.

"Until the rest of the reinforcements arrive from Britannia," Ciaran responded. "We'll be stuck operating in Yamanashi province. When the forces are brought up to strength, Cornelia's turning us loose. We'll reconnoitre suitable areas for forward operating bases to be established, then we'll move out in to the countryside as a full battalion accompanied by a company or two of engineers. Then we'll basically do the same thing we've been doing from there."

"So apart from our makeup, nothing changes, correct?" Villetta asked.

"Exactly. Although I'd prefer it if we had more gunships and crews to deal with the extra men."

"Well, there's always next time." The noblewoman responded with a smile, which Ciaran returned.

Taking his bottle in his hand, the Briton held up the bottle in a toast. "Until next time."

The sound of glass gently striking glass filled the space of the officer's mess as Villetta responded to the toast.

---

AN: I cannot apologise enough for not posting a chapter up in January. I really cannot. It's just that things HORRENDOUSLY went downhill for me after the New Year. My job contract with work finished, and there was literally no change of being kept on long-term and my manager's attempts at trying to get me a job with another store closer to where I live didn't pan through. I also had serious trouble trying to get back on job seekers (which at the time of writing I've still heard nothing about). Then I ran in to prospect that I might end up facing debt collectors, over a fucking book subscription which I was 100% certain I had filled out (although that's all sorted out now) and just the general lack of a job... ugh. I tell you, I swear I'm cursed with shitty luck at the start of the year, and it just seems to keep getting worse and worse for me.

And this chapter! Gah! This chapter was so fucking hard for me to write! Ugh, 42 pages long. Still that's nearly two months worth of work, right?

First things first: military matters. Looking back over previous chapters, I have fully realised that I have not really been consistent with the description of the size of 332 Battalion. Now, even though they are called a battalion, they are only a company, which in the British army, is made up of three companies and a HQ section. In the Code Geass universe, I've taken some liberties with the size by having a platoon be made up of 24 men. So 3 platoons of 24 is 72 men. Include in the six Valkyrs (and it should be six. I don't know why I originally wrote in 5!), with two pilots each and one crew chief, that's 90 bodies. Now if we add in the two platoons worth of Honorary Britannians, that's two extra 48 men, so that brings the size of 332 Battalion up to 138 men. And since I'm using the British Army's structure, then the armoured battalions of Knightmares are made up of three squadrons each made up of 18 Knightmares, and an infantry battalion is made up of 650 men. So yeah. Shit's going to get serious with those numbers. Also the names are... well, kind of self-explanatory since I'm using the British Army as the base for the Britannian Army's structure. And this also means that I'm going to have to give earlier chapters a going over and sorting them out.

Secondly: the racism. I cannot write racism. It's hard. I'm not a... I won't say I'm perfect, but I'm more judgmental than racist (that'll come up in a second bit so I'll explain there), so Cornelia's reason for refusing to include Honorary Britannians was hard to write. Until I looked up some reasons for why nations like South Africa didn't let blacks in to their army during Apartheid. And then that helped me out for another part (and major props go to my best friend for helping me out with this bit): there is literally ZERO CHANCE of Britannia as an entity being able to exist as it did in the anime if it had a purely segregated military, keeping non-Britannians away from front-line duties. Between police actions, insurgent hunting and major conflicts, it would be impossible for the territories that the Empire controlled to effectively keep up a military presence in the newly raised areas without having non-Britannians pick up some of the slack. If you want examples effectively using native populations in conquered territories alongside their own troops, simply look at the Roman and British Empires, especially the Martial Races theory.

Thirdly: Suzaku. He's not a character I like. I will say that pure and simple. Especially after knowing everything I know about him from both series', it's almost impossible for me to like him. So I TRIED my best to write him slightly more sympathetically in this chapter than how I wanted to. That's all I can say.

And fourthly: I play video games when I'm stressed. I think that's a product of my generation and probably all of my readers can sympathize with that. And also, Grand Theft Auto V is fucking addictive.

Not much else to say on this. Hopefully I can get back on track with this now. Hopefully.

So again, read, enjoy review. Help is still need with the story's TVTropes page and the fanon wiki page, so any help with that would be much appreciated. It would go some small way to make me feel a bit better. Although some good reviews might do that job too. Hehe.

Anyway... see you all next time. Toodles.