Recap: York took advantage of Lelouch's absence to send Alex into the OSI. Naoto has been working with Ohgi and his friends due to the discovery of Clovis's human experimentations but tensions are running high.
Chapter 22: Bloodstained Hands
January 14, 2000
Schneizel invited a friend from school to his birthday party. A Kanon Maldini. Schneizel hovers around him, protecting him from malicious words. It seems he truly has made a friend: a real friend. I guess there is hope for my brother at all.
Cornelia declared that she would be joining the army. Technically, they only accept fourteen year olds and boys, but the Imperial Junior Officer Academy is still allowing her to attend. It seems I was wrong about Cornelia, all those years ago. She is going to be a woman in the military. And she will change the world.
Empress Marianne, as a knight, has opened the pathway for many women. She's a mother and a warrior. Empress Victoria is still glaring at Empress Marianne. I don't think she will ever forgive her for stealing her dear daughter away.
Clovis's gifts were unique for their personal nature. He is quite an artist for his age. Compared to us older siblings, he is the most normal of us all. His rendition of Cornelia wielding a flaming sword on a horse is marvelous.
—Excerpts from Odysseus's Journal
Location Classified, Tokyo, Area Eleven
Alex dropped the bloodied knife in the tray and the ruined gloves in the neighboring trash can. By the end of the day, all evidence of the deed would be destroyed. The fire, from an "accidental" fallen candle, would take care of the evidence at the scene.
As he finished washing his hands, his partner approached out of the corner of his eyes, white and blue bags from the seafood place a few blocks down in his hands. Mark had an unfortunately memorable yet trustworthy face. No one denied him help when he knocked on a door and kindly asked for directions. Alex was the opposite. Suspicious and forgettable.
"Any trouble? Mark asked.
"No. In and out within five minutes." Alex fished out the stolen wallet and with a sigh, threw it in the trash. A shame that it would be incinerated; it had such a nice texture. "Come on. I'm starving."
Mark snorted. "You are not what I was expecting when I heard I'd be getting one of York's proteges."
"Pass the pepper will ya. This is bland as toilet paper."
Watching him douse his food in pepper, Mark shook his head, aghast. "Did you lose your tongue living on the streets?"
Alex chewed thoughtfully and frowned. Lelouch's cooking was better. "Like you'd last a month, pretty boy. Seriously though, what were you expecting? A snob? York has his own set of cutlery he uses; says it's so he doesn't get poisoned. I think he just likes eating with real silver."
"No... You're surprisingly sane." Mark warily eyed his food before taking a bite of his own. "York's brilliant, but some of us like their job a tad too much. He turned down a lordship because he likes getting his hands dirty. The rumor mill has been buzzing for ages because he finally held onto an apprentice for longer than a year before pawning them off. Above tried to saddle him a few times with junior agents... Burned through them real fast, except the last guy who begged for a transfer. Yet he actually stuck around in the same place for almost five years now."
The reason for that was of course Lelouch, not Alex. Surprising York wasn't easy, but Lelouch was the only one who managed to do so with a somewhat baffling consistency. York had eventually gotten to the point of planning for Lelouch to do the unexpected, and Alex, being just a tad vindictive, had informed Lelouch of his new approach. Lelouch had gleefully played along until York finally caught on.
Alex pushed aside the small tinge of worry for leaving Lelouch to York's undivided attention, but this was the necessary next step in his education. If Mark wasn't lying, York had barely escaped an investigation into his anomalous behavior. Or maybe he hadn't. One could never know for sure in the OSI.
"Maybe he's getting old," Alex joked. "Without me, he's actually going to have to make his own tea."
Mark narrowed his eyes. "I'm going to have to keep my eye on you because you secretly like stabbing bodies or something, right?"
"My idiosyncrasy is much more benign." Alex set Mark's wallet—worn slightly on the edge and a drop of dried blood marred the magnetic clasp—on the table and pulled back his lips in a silent challenge. "I expected better from a fellow agent."
"You—" He cast a furtive glance around the room and snatched his wallet back discreetly. "If you're that good at pickpocketing, how would you like to make some cash?"
"Wallets are not where the money is. Hypothetically, you would break into a house. Of course we are law abiding citizens under His Majesty's control—"
"Hail Britannia and yadda yadda yadda. Not talking about doing anything like that. I just want you to lift the keys of someone of interest." Victoriously, he pulled out the most recent edition of the newspaper out of his bag. Excessive creases indicated that he had been folding and unfolding it all day. "Lelouch vi Britannia is in town."
Alex crossed his arms. This was why he was here. To protect Lelouch because some part of the OSI was actively trying to sabotage him. He didn't expect it to happen so soon though. If Lelouch recognized him then the game would be up, and Alex was never leaving his eyesight again. "What's the punishment for robbing royalty? They'd probably chop off my hands; I need my hands."
"He didn't do that to the other agents," Mark grumbled.
"Why him?" Alex asked. He was so close to uncovering the truth.
Mark winced. "A few years back, Prince Clovis stopped one of the servants and asked him to follow his brother... That was one of our agents. He lost him... So he tried again the next day... By then everyone thought he was absolutely incompetent, so that agent challenged one of us to try. The one time we thought we succeeded, he ordered a drink for their table. It makes no sense. The reputation of the OSI is on the line; the prince is impossible to tail."
Spotting and losing a tail was one of the few lessons Lelouch eagerly participated in with York. Clearly, it had paid off, and Lelouch was probably taking the opportunity to sneak off, change, and visit his sister. He was fortunate that the agents here were so incompetent to not put together his painflly obvious double life
Then again, Roy proved that people were incomprehensibly dense. Had he never read the news? Really, when royalty was involved, people seemed to lose their heads.
"Yet you somehow think he'd be easier to pickpocket." Exasperated, Alex shook his head. He would put his own odds at a coin toss. Lelouch was unnervingly good at knowing when his wallet was missing or—as Alex had taken to doing so in recent years—replaced.
"There's a decent pot for whoever manages it," Mark tried.
When Alex got back, he was going to have a long talk with Lelouch as to why baiting OSI agents was a terrible idea.
"That short guard of his is also entirely obnoxious. We're quite sure he killed eight agents of ours, but we never managed to find their bodies. It makes no sense."
Henry was good at hand-to-hand although such extreme force felt off. Lelouch would never have allowed it, and for it to happen eight times? Henry was definitely capable of it, but why would he resort to such a means? Not to mention disposing of the bodies in an untraceable manner sent shivers up Alex's spine. That wasn't easy. Especially to do it eight times without the OSI being able to prove anything.
"Is he one of ours?" Alex asked hesitantly. A spy sent by Lelouch's enemies which Alex would happily dispose of if the timeline made more sense. Why waste a young agent on a multi-year-long mission before Lelouch had done anything of interest.
"We did a background check three times—nothing amiss. He's by all accounts perfectly normal."
From the tidbits that Henry slipped, his childhood wasn't normal. Perfectly forged documents suggested an unnerving amount of influence, and moved Henry from potential threat to the top of the list. He was too close to Lelouch.
Maybe Alex should engage in such tomfoolery and risk exposure to eliminate the imminent threat to Lelouch's life.
The abrupt opening of the door stalled any further thought as their handler crossed the room and snatched the newspaper. "I hope neither of you are thinking of angering Above by baiting royalty."
"No, my lord," Max said blankly. "I was only filling in my partner on the relevant details."
"Good because we do not want to give Empress Marianne an excuse to turn our office upside down again. That is what happened last time someone tried to plot against her children, and the OSI was not even involved."
Alex smiled brightly, enjoying how the man recoiled. "I understand, my lord."
"Good." Their handler examined him carefully. "The Cleaners said your kill was precise and efficient. I wonder why you would show such mercy to Britannia's enemies."
In the OSI, every outsider was the enemy. Only their fellow agents deserved any measure of trust, but one always had to be on guard for betrayal. Even the mind couldn't be trusted. The only truth was written with neat penmanship in the little leather bound notebooks. An apprentice agent would diligently digitize the numerous notes.
Alex lifted his head marginally and replied without any emotional inflection, "They're not worth my time, my lord."
"A painful death is a deterrent," their handler reprimanded and slapped his head with a thick packet of papers. "Never mind. They were inconsequential. Mark will remain with you until he convinces me that you understand the necessary creativity."
Such an order would never come from Lelouch.
"I am honored by your faith, my lord," Mark said.
Their handler grumbled and projected an intricate portrait of a middle aged noble. "Until three days ago, Lord Curnow held the position of the Back King. In the late afternoon, he held a press conference to reveal the results of a fabricated internal investigation. In the following days, most of our agents have been either fired or violently eliminated. Additionally, the Black King's foreign trade has temporarily stalled creating complications for our agents abroad. Unfortunately, both our liaison and the underling he negotiated with died in the assault from an unidentified armed group.
"You'll be coordinating with Team Kappa-Sigma to determine the new Black King working from behind the scenes and who closest to him would be best to use as our intermediary. Additionally, Above wants to know how he managed to slip through our surveillance net and enact such a swift takeover without anyone being the wiser. If they are uncooperative to our cause, enhanced interrogation techniques followed by termination have been authorized."
Mark absently picked out a piece of a gum—a slight sharp tang to its scent instead of sweetness, most likely drugged—and popped it into his mouth. "Any clues on your end? Or is this just to cover our ass because someone fucked up their job. Like really... It's a big fat canvas of I don't knows."
A sharp slap sliced through the air. "Respect agent. I would have thought the last discipline session cured you of your impudence."
Cowed, Mark dropped his head as a small rivulet of blood ran down from his cheek. "Forgive me, my lord."
"Interrupt me again, and I will personally oversee twenty lashes." Their handler pulled out an embroidered handkerchief and polished his ring. On the screen, the image flicked to the blurry background of the casino, taken from some cellphone. In it, a bright pink haired girl stood primly.
"All the security footage of the day was wiped before our agents could transmit any to us. We seized this among others from civilians' phones. She appeared in a few photos on the way to Lord Curnow's private suite. She is not among the type of clientele attracted to such an establishment. Our analysts believe she is somehow associated with the new Black King. Now... any questions?"
Alex studied the image intently, cursing the low quality. "Is that an Ashford Academy uniform?"
Their handler walked to the front of the room, as if that would suddenly elucidate everything. "I do not know. You may investigate the students off-campus, but the Emperor wants the school run free from our interference, and Lord Ashford does not take kindly to agents snooping around his property. If you are apprehended, your escape is left in your hands. Anything else? No. Then good. I have wasted enough time here."
The moment the door closed, Mark rolled his eyes. "Wasted his time? He barely said anything. We have a big fat pile of nothing."
"We can canvas the shops and stand outside Babel Tower. We might get lucky and see if she had any companions," Alex suggested.
"We could've gotten the protests on Monday. Inciting a riot is fun. Or deal with the Eleven idiot. Even chasing the ghostly specters of the JLF would be more fun than this."
How was Alex the only sane one here?
Location Classified, Area Six
A half second. A slight push on the throttle. That was what it took for Kallen to take a human life. Blood dripped on the ground from the knightmare's hand, and she bit back a horrified sob. Gino's knightmare moved ahead through the night with almost surgical precision, eliminating the men illuminated by brief flashes of light. The screams and gunfire were faint as the buzzing of a fly in the safety of her knightmare.
"K-2," Gino crackled, "Get it together. Six o'clock. Now. Out."
She spun the knightmare in time to intercept an old, patched together Glasgow painted in black. Her enemy held a long, stolen, pole spear, capable of piercing a knigthmare's cockpit. They were utterly useless at anything else. Their only purpose was to kill. The tip began to spin.
She inhaled and launched forward, pushing her reservations aside. She couldn't die out here. Not when Japan still needed her assistance. This was a temporary delay.
For a moment, she was the knightmare, hand moving to intercept. Legs shifting to counter the weight. The twisting of the torso to avoid the blow. And then her left arm winding into a hook punch, and diving into the factsphere.
Blinded, her opponent stumbled back, but Kallen pushed forward. Firing the rifle on her left arm as a distraction while the right one broke through the side, spilling coolant as the system desperately sealed the area.
"Alive," Gino reminded her.
She obliged, smashing her fist and cracking the hull, such that the ejection mechanism would stall. The cockpit lurched for a moment, rockets firing inconsequentially. Why wouldn't they just give up? Why force her to drag this out? Angry, she picked up the fallen spear and slammed it through the cockpit into the controls.
The knightmare twitched, and she rolled back; the fight, done.
Except it wasn't. The battle raged on.
"Fall back 62 meters," a foreign, yet familiar voice ordered. "Make sure no one gets past you. And K-2? Use your slash harkens next time. Out."
"Rookie mistake," Gino assured her. "At least you remembered you had two hands."
"Cut the chatter, K-1. Out." the voice interrupted again.
"Yes, sir," Gino grumbled.
She fell back, right in time to watch a wave of panicked insurgents rushing to her. Orders were orders. She closed her eyes.
Six hours later, flight suit clinging to her body, she hugged her knees under the fresh morning sun and stared at her knightmare. The ominous frame cast a long shadow over the courtyard, and the hands had turned slightly red as if a fine layer of rust had developed overnight. She had killed rebels—people who opposed Britannia just like her—for Britannia... for Japan... for Kaguya...
How many had she killed to keep her cover? How many would she kill to rise in the ranks? To gain more power? To be more useful?
Abruptly, she stood and walked inside, past the startled technicians, filled a bucket with soapy water, and returned to her knightmare. The water sloshed over the rim onto her issued boots. Grimacing, she glared at the hand, too high to be reached and went to fetch a ladder. The confused stares of the technicians followed her out.
Finally, she began to clean. The water turned red, dripping to the swaying ground beneath her. Her flight suit, once again drenched, chafed around her shoulders and elbows. She couldn't tell if it was sweat or tears dripping down her face and mingling with the blood of those she killed.
"Hey," Gino said on her way down to refill the bucket. The blood was still there. His face completely serious, he grabbed her shoulders and pulled her in for a hug. "You did a great job."
"I need to clean," she whispered and pushed him back. The knightmare was her responsibility until the Horus arrived. In this humid environment she had to be especially careful to not let it rust.
Gino didn't let her go. "They've got this." He firmly grabbed her by the forearm and guided to the wobbly table in the shade of the trees. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No."
He sighed. "This is normal... but you will do it again. They were our enemies. It's not worth losing sleep over them. Don't let anyone deny you your happiness, even if you have to pretend. Come on. Smile?"
She scowled. But they weren't her enemy; he was.
"Tough crowd... You've been holding back in our spars. I saw you against that knightmare. The other pilot was pretty good, but they never stood a chance."
"I forgot about my slash-harkens," she mumbled, grasping onto the familiar.
"That's why we spar, but the rush of combat? Familiar moves are suddenly foreign, and the world shrinks to you and your opponent. Life or death. Nothing really prepares you for that. You would have been slightly faster with your slash-harkens. Don't worry about it."
"Who was that? On the radio?" she asked.
"The general."
"Gosling?"
He laughed. "If something doesn't explode, it's not him. No, Gosling isn't back yet. The first half of the plan was his; the flares were too showy for Mr. Eight. The latter half? Turning them around, so they run into our arms while trying to retreat? That's more Mr. Eight's style. Not that Gosling can't do sneaky..." He frowned. "It's just even when he is sneaky, it's all done in one big swoop. He also micromanages a lot more if he can. He's always in your ears. You'll know."
For a moment, she tried to imagine him. Short and stoutly... except Gino called him a twig. So simply petite. He would have to be old, but not too old. Gino was much too vain to espouse anyone who had already gone gray. Otherwise, she would never hear him shut up about the Emperor. Probably blond as most Britannians tended to be. A slight hawkish touch to his face. Perhaps tiny beady eyes like the bird he was named after. And wrinkles. A proper number to show he was serious about his work, but not too many, lest he appear weak.
If Gosling was as special as Gino claimed, she would have heard of him. After all, who allowed their troops to call them by such a derogatory nickname? No, his appeal had to rely entirely on his mannerisms and appearance. So somewhat attractive with a good bout of charisma.
"Why did Mr. Eight interfere?" Kallen asked.
"He doesn't like you," Gino admitted. "I was supposed to take that position, but I guess he wanted to test you. Congrats. You passed."
Her chest burned. "Great..."
"I know! I've no idea why he's in such a twist. In a few more battles, he'll have to see what I see. Then, I can tell you everything."
"Everything?" she asked, lifting an eyebrow.
Shoulders hunched, he glanced away. "You don't have clearance. It's bullshit, but he's insisting. They didn't trust me at first either, I guess. They just don't like nobles."
"Isn't he a noble?"
Gino froze.
"Or was he knighted?"
He coughed, rubbing the back of his head. "Um yeah. Empress Marianne was very impressed with him. Offered him knighthood and everything."
"Wait..." So if Gino thought the problem was her being a noble, not her noble heritage, why hadn't they trusted him? "You're not a commoner..."
"Damn it." His head hit the table. "I owe Vegas a few hundred. Come on... Couldn't you have waited another week? They all think I'm utterly terrible at pretending..."
Kallen worked her jaw. He was a noble? Maybe a minor one? Recently elevated to nobility? Because no noble would ever participate in such action. "So you thought it was funny to prank me?"
"It's not a prank, not really," he mumbled. "They've been calling me Commoner Boy for years. And I know I did a really bad job at first, but I didn't want to go home. It's better here."
That was incredibly depressing.
He lifted his head, his face smoothing over. "Gino Wein...berg. A pleasure to meet you, my lady."
Her face flushed. She was such an idiot. But... "Your father is the Minister of Commerce! Why are you serving in the middle of nowhere? You should be with Princess Cornelia or something. Or at least where there's air conditioning." And if that was who he was, then he was above her in social standing. "My lord."
"Please don't," he said, wincing. "I had a bit of a fight with my family. I'm honestly an embarrassment. They get to save face by saying I'm a pilot, and I don't damage their name by pretending to be a commoner. You at least will make your family proud. Your father is a Baron, right? Give it a few years, and your family will rise to Viscount. These things have a tendency of working themselves out."
Kaguya would be pleased. An ace climbing the social ladder. Her mother would be delighted.
"Great, more marriage prospects on the table."
Gino's eyes widened in delight, and he opened his mouth before suddenly clamping it shut.
Kallen gave him a knowing look. "That was going to be something inappropriate, wasn't it?"
"Nothing untoward at all." He chuckled nervously. "Gosling would hang me by my entrails."
A burst of laughter escaped her, and she slapped a hand over her mouth. She had killed people. Allies of the same cause. And here she was laughing... How Britannian of her. Grimly, she looked him into the eye. "How many?"
"Entrails? Oh, do you mean loops? Because I think they're long, maybe..."
"No. How many did I kill?"
His shoulders sank. "You don't want to know."
"Tell me," she hissed. How many lives were worth her cover?
"Trust me, you don't." He rose, his hand gently ghosting over her shoulder. "We caught the prisoners we wanted." Which would now be tortured. "Everyone was accounted for. Who killed whom doesn't matter."
"It does," she whispered.
He drew away. "No. It doesn't. What matters is that we fulfilled our duty, our job. They would have died by someone's hand later; the punishment for treason is execution."
Beneath the table, she curled her fists. The manic sob clawed its way up her throat as she pressed her eyes shut to fight it down. Her teeth drew blood from her tongue. The world calmed down.
Mechanically, she rose and strode to her knightmare. The hands still had a red hue, mirroring her own hands bright red and cracked from the soapy water. Nothing could ever erase or justify the deaths on her ledger. Kaguya was right. They all became Britannians eventually. Traitorous Britannians, perhaps, but Britannians.
Today, Kallen Kozuki—or whatever remained of her—had died.
Tokyo Memorial Hospital, Tokyo, Area Eleven
Naoto dropped into a chair next to his more friendly coworkers in the cafeteria. Everything was coming to an end. The day after tomorrow, they would raid a military base to get their sakuradite fuel cells. Afterwards, they would wait for Britannia to settle down again and began scouting out the base/lab's defenses. Their spying had even given them a list of potential employees whose houses Brian was already planning to break in.
With human experimentation foiled, his conscience would finally rest, and he could wash his hands of the entire affair. Fulfill his promise to his mother and take in his brother. Not all of his coworkers would take the news of his mixed heritage lightly. They knew he was a Partial. But half was much worse than a fifth or whatever assumptions they made.
"Almost didn't recognize you without those bags under your eyes," Lucy teased. "Finally have some time to join us for a game of pool this evening?"
"I can't." He rubbed the back of his head at the aggrieved looks from Lucy, Karl, and Louis. "Reception told me Lord Ashford needed me this afternoon. Maybe afterwards? If you're still there."
Karl groaned. "Always busy. Dude, feels like I haven't seen you in a year. I warned you that those favorite patients of yours would be terrible."
"No..." Naoto smiled slightly. "I have been dealing with some family stuff."
"Your super secret family which you never talk about?" Louis asked. "When will we get updates on that?"
"A little bit longer." Naoto hunched his shoulders. "My mother wants me to look after my brother, but I want to give him some time to adjust first. And to child proof my apartment. The alcohol definitely has to go."
"A brother?" Louis shook his head. "The mystery thickens."
"Wasn't there a sister too?" Karl asked as Lucy winced.
"She's... not talking to me," Naoto mumbled. Was it because he wasn't Britannian enough? A scourge on her reputation?
Lucy thankfully changed the subject. "And what of your ton amour?"
Rolling his eyes, Naoto said, "We're not dating. It's merely drinks."
"But he is handsome." She waggled her eyebrows empathetically. "He even went to all that trouble to see you. I think it's cute."
The other two idiots besides her cooed. Why were they friends again?
"He asked for a favor," Naoto said stiffly. At their expectant looks, he sighed. "It would never work out. He's a soldier."
"Soldier Boy isn't that bad," Lucy said.
"I'd like to keep the Britannian army a bit farther than my bedroom."
"So you have thought of it!"
Naoto slumped in defeat. His very illegal activities were honestly more of a concern.
"And what of your sister, Louis?" Karl asked, tone light. "Your phone has been blowing up all day. And I know you don't have a girlfriend."
"Hey!" Louis slouched. "There's a big party with the upper echelons of society and royals visiting. Prince Clovis has been working all of them to the bone. She needs to vent."
Naoto glanced up. "She works in the palace?"
"Yes. Got the job a while back. Hell of a background check. I had to talk to three different members of His Highness's Royal Guard. And I swear I had people following me for the entire month. There was this one weird dude who kept chatting me up at the grocery store. Her work is normally easy with handling the guest rooms and everything. Most visitors have their own entourage, so her team has nothing to worry about. They simply help them settle in and clean the empty rooms."
"Except now your phone is blowing up," Lucy said seriously. "Is her charge an asshole or something? Because I know some tricks..."
Naoto glanced at her warily.
Louis shrugged. "Kinda? She is pissed at him, but it's more because he apparently doesn't sleep in his rooms, and His Highness's valet keeps asking for his location. And when he is there, he rebuffs her assistance and refuses all the meals."
"Rude," Karl muttered. "Like the palace food isn't good enough?"
His voice dropped to a scandalized whisper. "He apparently prefers—no, insists on cooking it himself."
Naoto stared at him in disbelief. "Even Lord Ashford would scarcely step in the kitchen. Something would have to go terribly wrong." Nor had his father, a baron, ever thought a visit was appropriate. Naoto had never gone there either except to sneak pastries. "Is he young?"
"Somewhat." Louis grinned, leaning over the table. "It gets even stranger. He barely has any luggage and never asks for any of the servants to help him dress."
"Maybe his staff helps him?" Karl suggested.
"Nope. Only has two guards, not even a valet. Prince Clovis apparently threw a fit when he rejected the footman to serve as his temporary valet."
Lucy leaned back and crossed her arm. "You're pulling our leg. Nobody rejects royalty."
"Well..." Louis's grin stretched across his face, and he twirled his hand like a magician. He opened his hand. "He's a royal."
"Your sister got assigned to royalty?" Naoto asked. "Shouldn't that go to someone more experienced?"
"Apparently, he's historically difficult, so Prince Clovis has been cycling through his servants to find someone that his younger brother would accept."
Royal gossip never failed to entertain, and already they were beginning to collect a disbelieving crowd that whispered the little tidbits they heard to another.
"The prince beats his servants?" Lucy asked.
"No." Louis snorted. "He completely ignores them. Cooking, washing, cleaning... All of it gets done without any of them lifting a finger. My sister says he even folds his clothes."
Karl raised an eyebrow and to the assent of the room said, "I don't believe you. Proof or it didn't happen."
"You think royalty is going to let photos leak? I got zilch."
"Next you're going to tell us it's Princess Carine," someone shouted from the back.
"She killed someone, didn't she?"
"Allegedly."
"No, she's all sunshine and roses who would never harm a fly," someone replied, sarcasm thick enough to cut through. "She'll even gift you a rose if you pay her a compliment."
"I heard Princess Euphemia was a darling... I have an aunt of a cousin who said she was the nicest royal she ever met. Always smiles and has something kind to say."
"Please, Princess Cornelia shelters her. She would never fold her clothes. She wouldn't even know how."
Louis loudly cleared his throat with a slight glare at the assembled crowd. "I said 'he.'"
"Give us a name, or you're bullshitting," Karl shot back.
Looking terribly satisfied, Louis smirked. "Prince Lelouch vi Britannia."
Naoto's stomach fell. Vi... Like in Empress Marianne who was close to Lord Ashford who had an unusual interest in a young man's safety... Lelouch who definitely cooked.
"Does he have a sister," Naoto asked, dreading the answer.
"Actually yeah," Louis said, surprised. "Never hear much about her. My sister never met her either, merely heard Prince Clovis speak of her in passing."
Lucy frowned. "There was a rumor back home that she was injured in the attack on Empress Marianne."
"Could be it," Louis agreed. "Doubt she'd be useful then. Empress Marianne, I gotta respect her. She's just so good that still nobody can keep up with her. Imagine how much better she'd be if she could walk though."
A blinded sister... was an excellent reason to keep her away from the vipers which infested Pendragon. And if— Well, there was no if. Kururugi, the son of the Prime Minister, had known a Britannian... and a prince would make sense. They would have run in the same circles.
Shit. Ohgi had almost killed a prince, and not just any—the son of Empress Marianne. No wonder Kururugi had been willing to throw everything on the line to ensure he left safely. Naoto still remembered the last time Empress Marianne's fury turned on Tokyo. She had massacred countless and indiscriminately executed hundreds of Japanese on a public broadcast. Their limp bodies rattled as the bullets tore through. The corpses, drenched in blood, had been barely recognizable. One atrocity of many to sow terror in the heart.
Except... Why was he a soldier? Lel—Prince Lelouch had the scars to prove it. Frederick—
"Naoto," the receptionist interrupted as the crowd jostled for a closer spot to listen to Louis's tale. A Commoner Prince, they were saying, a royal unlike any other. They had no idea. The receptionist held up her hand. "You're going to be late for your meeting."
"Shit," Naoto mumbled, checking his watch. "I thought that was in two hours."
She smiled apologetically. "No. It says one right here."
Excusing himself, Naoto rose. His heart pounded at the momentous revelation he just had... and he instinctively knew that nobody could ever know that he knew. Nobody knew what Prince Lelouch occupied himself with. Military... That had to be a national secret. He was going to die.
And now he had a meeting with Lord Ashford without any time to prepare for himself. He could reveal nothing, hint at nothing. He was so screwed.
Fredrick...
Fuck. Was he already under suspicion, and Prince Lelouch set his guard to investigate him? Maybe he had recognized him in the bar.
Naoto saw the tram pull in ahead and slipped inside before the door closed. The accusing eyes of the passengers bore him and the familiar prickle of paranoia reignited.
Why hadn't Kururugi hinted at anything? The entire operation could be compromised... Well, they had basically blackmailed him into joining. But the fear in his eyes when he accidentally revealed himself was real. Naoto needed to ditch the meeting and tell Ohgi the exact level of shit they were in—skyhigh.
Except if he suddenly ditched, Lord Ashford would get suspicious and undoubtedly ask the others what happened before Naoto left. Then Lord Ashford would know that he knew... Naoto had promised his mother to take in his brother; he couldn't do that as a fugitive. Hell, he couldn't even survive as a fugitive. His so-called friends would sell him out in a heartbeat.
Fuck.
Naoto approached Lord Ashford's labs and took a moment to lean against a neighboring wall. Eyes closed, he counted back from ten in a desperate attempt to ground himself. He got this. He just had to lie. Nothing new. He lied all the time.
He had this.
He stepped through the door into the cold reception, and the lady waved him through security with a pleasant smile. Everything was fine. His heartbeat was going to give him away.
Lord Ashford welcomed him into his office with his usual warm smile and a casual greeting. As Naoto collapsed in the chair, Lord Ashford looked out the window. "I'm sorry about Kallen. I tried to convince her to talk to you before she left."
Naoto relaxed. "Thank you, my lord."
Lord Ashford pulled out his chair. "You care for her very much despite not being close."
"I'm her older brother," Naoto said firmly. "She can pull back as much as she wants, but I will always protect her. I promised my mother and father. My lord... I would like to take in my brother. He would have a better life with me. I'm not really asking you, more informing you. If you will terminate my employment over it... So be it."
"But only in a few months, right? " Lord Ashford asked.
"Yes..."
Lord Ashford hummed. "Very well. As for your sister... I arranged a placement for her that should afford some protection. She also will be using my prototype. She will be fine."
"Thank you, my lord," Naoto said, relieved. Again, the gnawing sense of guilt was back.
Lord Ashford sighed and turned around, setting a tape recorder on the desk.
"I need a few months first. There's a thing, but after that, I promise you, I'll take him with me," his familiar voice said.
Naoto flinched and looked up at the suddenly cold lord. The last time his face had been so icy was when confronted by Seymour's crimes.
"Then there is your little discussion at lunch today," Lord Ashford said, his face chiseled of ice. He stepped behind the chair, weathered hands gripping the backrest. "You are putting me in a very difficult position."
"My lord?" Bluff... He had to bluff.
"I imagine that it's not easy, but I tried to pave your path as well as I could. I shelter your family from the political fallout. I provide for your mother and ensure she lives a reasonably comfortable life. She, unlike you, has taken the transition much more kindly. I even jeopardized my relationship with Marianne to protect your sister. Yet, you throw all that aside for those rabble friends of yours. Ohgi, right? And I'm sure the loud mouth, Tamaki, is among them as well."
His veins turned to ice, and the four walls of the room pressed in.
"You're a doctor, yet I find you engaging terrorism." Lord Ashford straightened. "I like you, I really do, Nathan."
Naoto. His name was Naoto; his own mother had called him Nathan.
"A few months though. You foresee an end to this endeavor of yours. Britannia will still be standing at the end."
"I know," Naoto whispered. His throat felt like he swallowed a strip of gauze.
"Then, why?" Lord Ashford shook his head, sighing. "It doesn't really matter. Your lunch time conversation complicates things."
"My lord?" Naoto tried again. "We were just... gossiping. I apologize if we said anything untowards."
"The mics have picked up worse." He fixed him with a stern glare. "Do not insult either of our intelligence. I should have you disposed of right now."
Naoto's eyes widened; his heart leapt into his throat. Despite his kindness and general disdain for noble mannerisms and affairs, Lord Ashford was still a powerful noble—one of the most powerful ones in Area Eleven, no Britannia. He could and would. His eyes flicked to the door. He wouldn't make ten paces down the hall before security caught him. Lord Ashford held his future and demise in the palm of his hand.
If he wanted to, he could dump his body into the ghettos. Blame the Japanese for his death. It would be smart. Kallen already wanted nothing to do with her Japanese heritage; with his death, she would never look back.
"Clovis is—"
"Don't. There's no justification for treason, for terrorism. Does anyone else know about Lelouch?"
Naoto pressed his lips firmly together.
"May I remind you that you're in no position to negotiate? Your sister is useful, but I can withdraw my protection for your mother and little brother at any time. With your treachery, your father would have no room to complain. He would thank me for my kindness."
"They didn't do anything!"
"Nor did the civilians who will inevitably get caught in your antics," Lord Ashford said ruthlessly. "Talk."
"I haven't told anyone. I don't know," Naoto stammered. Except Lucy held most of the pieces as well. What if she knew? She had nothing to spare her from Lord Ashford's justice. "Lel—Prince Lelouch. Everyone knows he is a soldier. It doesn't make sense."
Lord Ashford pursed his lips and dragged out the silence between them.
"Please, I don't know. If Frederick hadn't asked for my help... Please, I swear. They don't know anything."
"We have already established the worth of your word."
Naoto flinched.
"Who are your conspirators?"
"I can't." He swallowed. They already accused him of being a traitor. He wouldn't make their words true.
"So that is how much you care about your family."
No. He did.
"Names and location. The clock is ticking. I am the judge you have to convince, Nathan."
"Naoto," he hissed. "I'm not him."
"Naoto does not exist. In the eye of the law, a Number has no rights. Is that really who you want to be? A nobody? An insignificant child with no future. Numbers cannot practice medicine. Nor can they take care of a part Britannian little brother."
"Please," he whispered. He only started because Kallen and Oscar deserved to know Japan. Traitorous tears collected in the corner of his eyes. "I don't want them to be hurt."
A ring from the phone interrupted Lord Ashford, and he picked it up. "Yes, send him up." Slowly, he set it down again and sank into the chair. "Nathan, if you have any remaining two brain cells to rub together, you will remain quiet."
The door opened, and the leader of the Purists in Area Eleven, Margrave Jeremiah Gottwald, stepped through. His cruelty to the Numbers was well known although unlike his fellow members, he treated commoners with basic decency. If he was here...
Naoto forced a smile as his limbs locked in place. At least with Lord Ashford he could be reasonably sure that he wouldn't be subject to torture. The Purists had no problem using beatings to forcibly extract confessions, and if Lord Ashford let his mixed heritage slip? He might die before he ever landed in a courtroom.
"Lord Ashford. Thank you for seeing me on such short notice." Gottwald's gaze stopped on Naoto.
"Don't mind him," Lord Ashford said. "It is always a pleasure, Jeremiah."
Gottwald flushed and set his feet firmly apart with his hands clasped behind his back. "A terrorist group originating from Tokyo broke into a military base a few hours ago. We would like your assistance in this investigation."
"Not the Blood of the Samurai?"
"No. Their group possessed a knightmare pilot who helped cover their escape. Slightly more skilled than average. They also had knowledge of military security which suggests a worrisome leak."
That was supposed to happen two days from now. Why had they moved up their plans? They knew Naoto was busy today... Or maybe that was exactly why.
Lord Ashford sighed. "I really wish it was different, Jeremiah. Tokyo had peace, yet they insist on shaking the status quo."
"Numbers are not worthy of your mercy," Gottwald said. "We hoped that the splintering of the JLF would weaken them, but it only emboldened their fringe members."
"Yes... Did you capture any of them?"
"We killed three of them, and captured one Eleven. She refuses to talk so far although her companions called her Inoue." Gottwald said the Japanese name with a surprising amount of proficiency.
Naoto didn't have the time to appreciate the effort. He knew her, and while they weren't close, she had a more subdued personality, preferring to work out the numbers first. She wouldn't last long under Britannia's hospitality... Yet he could do nothing to save her. He might very well be joining her.
"I will forward any information I find."
"The terrorists have previously hidden among the hospital. The staff is most unwilling to cooperate."
"You will find them to be cooperative on this issue, not to worry."
Naoto whipped his head around, unable to believe what he was hearing. Their patients required treatment, not callous interrogations.
"Don't mind him," Lord Ashford said. "Nathan, here, works at the hospital. He is a bit attached."
Gottwald sneered. "A bunch of Number lovers."
Well, Naoto could now name one royal who knew Japanese. And Lelouch's sister probably did as well. Of course being a Purist, Gottwald would discount the Commoner Prince. His foray into the commoner's world would only damn him in their eyes.
"Protecting their patients is their job," Lord Ashford said. "The hospital has garnered a lot of good will in the local community. Your terrorists were probably injured, right? We can shut down the clinic for the week and make it clear it is due to safety concerns because of recent terrorism. I think the locals will be sufficiently helpful compared to your previous forays."
Bitter betrayal coated Naoto's tongue at the indifferent conversation happening above his head. The two of them talked more logistics, and with each minute, Lord Ashford promised to strip more privileges from the ghettos and the Elevens. The message was clear. If terrorism continued, Tokyo would feel the same strain as every other city.
"Will you be attending the party?" Gottwald asked, wrapping their conversation to a close.
"Too much work unfortunately. My granddaughter will be attending in my stead." Lord Ashford aligned some stacks of papers. "She is very excited."
"Is there any truth to the rumor that Prince Clovis will be receiving military aid? We could use the extra manpower or someone more... military inclined. There have been a lot more high ranking officers near the palace as of late."
Lord Ashford grimaced. "The situation has not turned that dire although I'm sure that if Prince Clovis were to ask, the Emperor would acquiesce."
"Perhaps Prince Clovis would be more amenable to listening to a sibling. He says Prince Lelouch is here."
Well, that removed any doubt whatsoever that the two Lelouchs were the same.
Lord Ashford shot Naoto a warning look. "I think you will find that Lelouch has no interest in involving himself in the military here."
"A shame," Gottwald said and Naoto blinked in surprise. "Some of his mother's brilliance had to have rubbed off. Prince Clovis... he could use the help. I never seem to be able to catch Prince Lelouch alone, and he always declines invitations for tea. You know him well."
"Your reputation precedes you, Jeremiah. Many of your coworkers' opinions on Marianne do not trend towards the positive. They border more on slander."
Gottwald groaned and finally took a seat with surprising grace for his size. "I have a duty to continue my father's work as Lord Greenford likes to remind me. I was there... but I never had the opportunity to speak to Prince Lelouch or Princess Nunnally since then. They were both very intelligent children."
"That they are," Lord Ashford murmured.
"Would it be presumptuous of me to beg for such a favor?"
"I am heartened that your mind remains clear despite the vitriol which so often pours from your lip. Truth to be told, Lelouch never speaks with anyone without a purpose unless it is Miss Sumeragi." A member of the Six Houses of Kyoto... She was of even older blood than the Kururugis. Hadn't the two families married? So Prince Lelouch maintained ties from before the invasion. Why? "He is also not fond of tea."
"He is a prince... He has social obligations."
Lord Ashford grimaced. "I am aware. He takes after his parents; neither are fond of social frivolities. He may accept an invitation to discuss the Knight Police. He isn't too enamored with their conduct."
The clashes at the hospital where Prince Lelouch would confront them came to mind. His tendency to regurgitate the law book made much more sense now.
Eyebrows raised and tone offended, Gottwald asked, "Why?"
"I have already said too much. Marianne isn't pleased by the Purists."
He flinched, but rose and inclined his head respectfully. "Thank you, Ashford. Your help is always appreciated."
Lord Ashford walked him to the door. "I will pass along any information you have and allow for some extra patrols after the announcement."
The door closed, and Naoto clenched his jaw as Ashford reclaimed his seat, having conspired with the Purist Party—a betrayal of everything he supposedly stood for. One could never trust a lord's word.
Ashford rubbed the bridge of his nose. "That was your group's handiwork, wasn't it? Twenty-six dead. Five of which were Honoraries. Your actions have now taken lives. Is this really who you want to be?"
"Like you care!" Naoto snarled. Anger was easier than the horrified shock from within. Ohgi and the others had gone behind his back. He wasn't trusted. "The Knight Police... They're the ones terrorizing everyone. Now, you tore away any protection their victims had from their abuser at the hospital. Your callousness is sickening."
"In return I keep an enterprising young man under my sway." He folded his hands together. "I know the Knight Police cause much harm, but their actions will only backfire upon the Purists. My hands are entirely clean while Tokyo enjoys the prosperity brought on by my knightmare production. The money for public works and educational opportunities is only available because I don't look too closely—or appear to at least. Without hardship, the incentive to turn to the Honorary program is not there. I provide a path to help people use their skills for Britannia's benefit. What I cannot allow is for them to aid our enemy."
"So innocents will suffer," Naoto hissed bitterly. He had too much to lose
"The innocents always do." Ashford folded his hands together. "More will though if you keep silent. Your loyalty is misplaced. What have they done for you, Naoto? Why protect them?"
Wasn't that what Naoto himself wondered? Ohgi was an old friend. Tamaki as well, even if he was an idiot. Yoshida though? He only had snide remarks. Inoue? They had gotten her killed. Two days from now had been a better day to attack. A distraction was brewing according to Brian. But they had moved for today? Why?
If he said nothing, his mother, his brother, his sister... They would all pay the price. He embarked on this endeavor for family and now he turned back because of them.
He slumped in his seat. "Ohgi Kaname, Tamaki Shinichiro, Inoue Naomi, Yoshida Toru..." The names rolled off his tongue with surprising ease as tears brewed in his eyes. He tried to tell himself that they deserved it. They had been engaging in mindless terrorism before Naoto joined. If they had really wanted to help Japan, they would have joined the JLF. The excuse rang hollow. Then, he stopped. Brian, Ban... Kururugi. They had been swept up by a moral cause. "That's it."
"Even on the low estimate of thirty-seven members, you are falling short," Ashford warned.
"The others... It's temporary."
"Treason is not a temporary condition."
"They—" Naoto had to explain. "We found bodies in the water. Clovis's guard was dumping them. Nobody was going to do anything! I—We couldn't just stand by. They were mutilated. Their skin ruptured by boils. Stomachs haphazardly sliced open. Faces burned to be unrecognizable. It's not... They're experiments, and they're snatching my people for it!"
Gasping for breath, he collapsed backwards and waited.
"Do you have proof?" Ashford asked and a spark of hope blossomed.
"In my apartment... I hollowed out my desk leg."
Lord Ashford grabbed the phone, sent someone to retrieve the incriminating photos, and leveled him with a stern glare. "You should have come to me first. I can understand why some might seek their own justice for such atrocities, but you had other avenues."
"What can you do? It's Clovis," Naoto said bitterly. "Royalty is untouchable."
"Not nearly as much as the public or most royals think." Sighing, Ashford stood and stared out the window. "Your relationship to Lelouch complicates things. Without it, you would never have known the truth, and having uncovered your treachery before any other party, I would have had much leeway in deciding your case. Your prior service has been exemplary..."
"Nobody else is aware that I know." Naoto swallowed, saliva grating along his throat.
"But I can't trust you with such knowledge. Any untoward actions against yourself will draw Lelouch's curiosity, and he will seek answers for his guard at least, with whom you've forged somewhat of a friendship with. Publicly arresting you though could potentially compromise my own meddling... You called Frederick the night Lelouch disappeared from somewhere close to the ghettos. Where were you?"
Naoto should have been much more paranoid. The phone call... He had no reason to be there. No wonder Ashford had become suspicious.
"I can't tell you."
Ashford walked to him and stared at him directly into the eyes. "You found Lelouch, didn't you? Then you either tell me where or you tell me what he was doing. If that is too much, I could order the entire district raze. Your terrorist friends are undoubtedly there."
"He was with a friend," Naoto admitted.
For a moment, Ashford looked confused. Then his eyes widened, and he stepped back. "Kururugi."
Naoto failed to suppress his flinch.
"Of all the asinine—" Shutting his eyes, he whispered, "Marianne is going to lose it."
"He wasn't involved," Naoto said frantically. "It was a bar. They were playing video games. We stopped by because it's a convenient meeting spot."
"I hope you are correct," Ashford said softly. The door opened. "Take him."
As the guard wretched his arms behind his back, Naoto shook his head frantically. "You said..."
Ashford raised his hand, and the guard stopped. "Officially, I have loaned you out to a hospital in Niigata. If anyone calls, you will make them believe that lie. All your conversations will be recorded while you work in the labs. We needed a new medic anyway. This is your second, underserved chance. If you step one toe out of line, it's over. I will make the arrangements to have your brother join you; I think your mother will be pleased."
A hostage. Ice spread from his stomach to the tips of his fingers and rendered him immobile from fear. He had betrayed everyone, yet it wasn't enough to save his family. He let himself be dragged from the room.
Viceroy Palace, Tokyo, Area Eleven
Lelouch lay the neatly folded cloak onto the arm rest; he wouldn't be needing it. Clovis was hosting his party on the rooftop where it was much too hot and humid tonight without a hint of an ocean breeze. The nobles not used to Japan's temperament would be in for an unpleasant surprise. Even the local lords were expecting it to be inside. Only those who held Clovis's favor would know—a cruel joke which Lelouch approved of.
His brother was capable of cunningness; he rarely bothered to apply himself unfortunately.
"Your brother has good taste," Frederick commented. "The cut suits you. Miss Kaguya will approve."
"We're friends," Lelouch grumbled. Frederick hadn't stopped with his snide comments since their meeting. "She even agreed that there is nothing between us."
Frederick groaned.
"Does she want to stab him?" Henry asked.
"How are you even worse than him?" Frederick exclaimed. "No! She wants to shag him."
"Don't be uncouth," Lelouch snapped. "She has a reputation to maintain."
"That and Empress Marianne executed most of her family," Henry said. "It is much more likely that she wants to stab him."
"Exactly," Lelouch said. "She doesn't actually like me. We're in a mutually beneficial arrangement."
Frederick glanced at the door yearningly before shaking his head. "You two are such unbelievable idiots."
"And you haven't been wearing a dopey smile every time you head out for a drink," Lelouch accused.
His face reddened. "Alcohol is relaxing and soothing. I can't say the same about your antics."
"You're not actually getting drunk?" Lelouch asked, worried.
"I'm not that stupid. Getting knocked out once was enough for me."
"Good." Lelouch admired himself for a moment in the mirror and adjusted his cufflinks. For a moment his left sleeve rode up to reveal the pale white, rope scars on his wrist. While barely discernible—especially compared to the ones on his ankles—he anxiously tugged his sleeve down to hide the painful reminder.
His reflection with blond hair, a confident, subtle smile, and the attire of a prince felt like an alien. Frederick was right; Clovis had done a good job.
The door behind him, and Clovis followed by his ever loyal valet swept into the room. He eagerly embraced Lelouch and immediately began adjusting his clothes. "Really, Lelouch. Why do you insist on doing this yourself? The servants are hand selected by myself. Or do you not trust me?"
Lelouch sighed at the heartbroken expression. "Clovis, no. I declined Schneizel and Guinevere's help in Australia. How would it look if I suddenly accepted help from you?"
"Spectacular. I would hold my darling younger brother's favor."
He scowled instinctively. Sometimes Clovis was annoyingly astute... but only in a manner which would ever benefit himself.
"No, no, no. Smile. There are plenty of fine ladies to catch tonight." Clovis stepped back, self assured. "Lady Breisgau will be there. I heard you were quite taken with her."
"I was not," Lelouch said flatly.
"Live a little, brother. You only experience the glorious prime of your life once before the cruel mistress of time yanks it away and sends us plummeting to the depths of despair. Wrinkles, blemishes... white hair. You must act now with the vigor of youth."
"Yet you haven't settled down either," Lelouch teased. "A new mistress on your arm every morning."
He lifted a finger pompously. "But I am an artist. Even as age claims my body, my soul only grows richer. An artist is never left with their desires unfilled... especially when they are also a prince. Alas, they will claim you are only half of one. Your flame will inevitably sputter."
"The day cannot come soon enough." He would finally have some peace without having to second guess every interaction. "I am afraid that I invited Miss Sumeragi to accompany me tonight. Your assistance will not be required."
His easy smile slipped. "Well, she is appealing... in an exotic manner, and her fortune is nothing to scoff at, but she lacks the heritage needed to give you the respect owed. The nobles spread such horrible gossip about themselves. She is not appropriate as your first wife. Even Lady Breisgau with a treacherous past would be better. I should introduce you to Lady Everette. You will find her most delightful."
"Miss Sumeragi and I are merely friends."
"It is good that your senses have not been led astray. Did you have to invite her as your date though? She will ward off the polite ladies."
"That's the point," Lelouch grumbled.
Clovis sighed. "Well, come on. Being fashionably late is becoming so gauche. Bartley wants to thank you for your assistance. I know you're easily bored, but I never thought you would be dreary enough to converse on such droll affairs. We must find something better to do."
Lelouch followed him out the room, a light smile on his lips. Clovis lacked the coldness of himself and their other siblings, including Cornelia. Euphemia was the only true breath of fresh air, but she would soon be tempered with time. Clovis clung to a youthful optimism that Lelouch couldn't help but envy.
Passing a large painting of Fuji mountain, Clovis slowed. "The countryside is exquisite here, especially the cherry blossoms. Their blossoms are ephemeral yet simultaneous. Such coordination of nature... Why, I feel most insignificant upon observing such an honor."
"They are beautiful," Lelouch agreed. Nostalgic memories swept over him as they passed through the hall, each frame holding a blossoming cherry tree depicted in various styles.
"You're the only one who understands, " Clovis whispered. "Only in nature do we find the divine. There is such grandeur and splendor around us if we take the moment to appreciate it. We think of ourselves as such enlightened men by building shallow mimicries and deluding ourselves into believing them to be adequate replacements. Despite our vocal rejections of the natural order, we always return to a more primal state for it is in there that the real truth may be found. Survival of the fittest... Darwin observed to learn. We create to learn and thus learn nothing at all."
"Innovation is necessary," Lelouch said. "We would hardly be anywhere if we stuck to the natural order."
"No, you misunderstand. We build on the shoulders of giants. The problem is when we refuse to acknowledge our roots. The artist knows it cannot supplant the original, merely create a distorted reflection, and it is within the distortion, the beauty lies. To catch one person's unique insight. We always observe... even those new fangled fools throwing paint on the wall and declaring it done. The first fought on the frontier and rejected conformity by observing the languishing state of their field. Everyone here does much too little observing and jumps straight into expression."
He paused in front of a brutal depiction of a lion tearing into an antelope. Blood spatters obscured the view as if the canvas was merely a lens to the other side and part of the scene instead of a neutral observer.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Clovis rested a hand on his shoulder. "I imagine I would like to see one of them in their natural habitat myself. For now, I must contend myself with this stunning depiction."
"You would be wiser to heed your own advice and listen," Lelouch said absently and moved to the next oil painting. While lacking any harsh and definitive lines, he could still see the essence of a massacre. In the corner waved the Britannian flag. Or maybe his brother did listen better than he thought...
"I do. I admit that my talents do not lie in governing. I much prefer to seek perfection, within my studio and without. The world has more bounty to offer than I could imagine. I fear that listening does me little good when I am surrounded by lies, nor does knowing where the wind blows enlighten me on manning the sails. A trusted confidant of mine has suggested seeking your advice. Trouble is brewing, brother, and while I hate to owe a favor, a failure would do me more harm."
"What is the issue?" Lelouch tilted his head at the next painting. A woman hung on a cross, lime green hair floating around her. On the bottom right was a plaque inscribed, Unknown. 1632.
"Trouble is brewing. Every day more Britannian citizens quake in fear—"
"Clovis," Lelouch growled.
"Must you always ruin my fun? The JLF fractured and now this buffoon is running around, raiding bases and taking hostages. Bartley thinks we should crack down on the savages, but no one can come to a decision as to how. I cannot make a decision when each advisor is presenting a different option, and while we tarry, this buffoon keeps encroaching on our lands. They speak pretty words, yet they almost act as if they want me to fail."
"They probably do," Lelouch admitted. "Your money management skills leave much to desire, and you admitted yourself that this job is not to your liking. They are all waiting for Father to come to recall you and leave a vacuum of power where they can make their own name."
"What do I do?" Clovis begged.
Lelouch's heart demanded that he didn't interfere. "General Asprius will always push for a more military heavy option, but he has experience. Run his ideas by your civilian advisors and then return to him with the limitations they thought of. General Asprius will find a solution that fits those requirements. As for civilian matters... You are listening to those far removed from the trouble. They have no need for an expedient solution. Conflicts line their pockets and open doors to new opportunities."
Clovis nodded and led him to the side, where he revealed a hidden wing. "Yes... Bartley informed me of our imminent flooding problem. I cannot fathom how my advisors missed this."
"They're idiots," Lelouch grumbled. "Japan functioned independently for decades, Clovis. They know best how to deal with issues native to their land, yet you have removed them entirely from your table."
"They are Numbers." Scandalized, Clovis raised his hand. "I will be the laughing stock of all if they hear I am taking advice from them. A Britannian prince stooping so low? It cannot be done."
"Do you limit your artistic tools to those only invented in Britannia?" Lelouch shook his head, and the lights finally flickered on.
Where the other halls were filled with mostly peaceful and happy images except the scant few of animals feeding, this hall was filled with despair. A village cowering under a tidal wave as tiny figures scrambled for high ground. A woman screaming and clutching a wrapped baby to her bosom as flames devoured her surroundings. A broken man lying limp as flesh peeled off his back from the strike of a wimp.
"No, you are quite right," Clovis said absently.
"Your actions would merely split the opposition. Give them too many small fires to fight so that when their attention turns to you, they are already exhausted. Fracture your opposition by granting a sub-group a simple wish then watch the rest turn on them."
"I merely need to frame it correctly... These paintings never found the right frame."
"I believe our siblings are under the mistaken impression that you cannot bear the sight of blood."
Clovis snorted. "Please. I had to listen to Cornelia tell me everything. Beauty and violence, both sides of the same coin. We merely find one more appealing. Others are always so... shocked when I bring them here. Nauseated, one could say, as if this is not the reality they live in."
The images were too visceral, especially the further they wandered in. Some used muted pallets. Others stood bright and proud, demanding that their horror never be overlooked. Too many images were what Lelouch knew too well. The sight of a man dying slowly as he desperately tried to stop the blood flow. A child so starved she couldn't move. Piles of bodies stacked sky high as maggots and flies idly buzzed by.
"Yet, you're fine," Clovis said. "You see well enough. A shame that you have never shown an interest in the arts."
Lelouch smiled grimly. The gravitas of the room was oppressive, demanding respect and silence. Smiles were not allowed here. "I wish I could be surprised."
"A few might understand," Clovis said softly. "Schneizel unfortunately has no appreciation for the arts and would not understand the brilliance of capturing the essence of our existence. This is who we are, who we hide from in fancy machines and pretty words. He finds the entire matter rather mundane. You remind me of him, Lelouch. Both of your brilliance is buried beneath layers of masks yet still dazzling the crowd. It is a futile endeavor to play the fool. I have watched you grow, and that spark which you buried so deep shines brighter every year."
"I'm not anything," Lelouch stumbled. Comparisons to his siblings only went down on one route. "I'm too young to play for the throne."
"I would much prefer the man who listens and bends the rules to his whims than the one who would take the hammer to everything. Our brother sells himself as a traditionalist, yet he is anything but. He has no respect for the laws of nature, not when he can enforce control through sheer force of will."
"It would never work," Lelouch said. "People are too resilient."
Clovis laughed as if he wasn't surrounded by images of death and ruffled his hair. "You and I would much rather work with imperfect humans to perfect humanity. Our brother would create perfection from nothing. And that is the crucial difference. Father... He understands. We are all half-formed statues, waiting for potential to be brought out. And who better to wield the chisel than ourselves? That is the natural order."
Lelouch stepped out of arm reach. "You are an idealist. Beg Father to reassign you elsewhere."
"Not yet... I have an unfinished artwork which is proving to be rather obstinate, but I will make the breakthrough needed soon. I have an offer for you should you beat me in a chess match."
Smiling fondly, Lelouch shook his head. "You haven't won in over a decade."
"You drive a harsh bargain, little brother," Clovis said, leading him out of the room again. "I would love to include you on a little project of mine."
"I don't have the time unfortunately. Maybe next year?" Lelouch added at the despondent look. "If you need another opinion... Feel free to forward me some plans before signing them off. I am happy to offer my insights, but—"
Clovis pouted. "Yes?"
"You must really stop trying to draw a portrait of Nunnally."
"She is an angel. Hoarding her beauty is a criminal offense."
Lelouch rolled his eyes. "She can't see the end result and has no desire to. Your words... They undermine who she is."
"But—
"Perhaps ask her if she would rather pose for a sculpture instead. I think you will have much more luck with that one."
"I'm better at painting," he grumbled, and Lelouch gave him a look. "Fine. If only because your services are so valuable."
Lelouch laughed. "I think you are overselling me."
"Father has you help, does he not? He does not condone fools." Clovis winced. "You must be more than adequate for him to keep enlisting your aid."
"They're punishments."
"As the elder brother, I believe I know him better." Clovis snorted self-righteously. "Come on, let us find your wayward girlfriend."
"Not my—" Lelouch sighed. He wasn't going to win this one, was he? "We are not getting married. We agreed on that much."
"And here I thought I would have the honor of painting Cornelia's expression at the wedding. She does this utterly marvelous thing with her lips when affronted. Reminds me of a beaver."
"You're officially my least favorite brother," Lelouch grumbled.
"Yet I am among your favorites!"
Lelouch shook his head tiredly. He would need to raise the topic with Odysseus. Clovis would be much happier out of the field of politics, but at least he wasn't blind to the Empire's fault.
Author's Note
No worldbuilding thoughts this time unfortunately. What do you think of Clovis? Normally, fanfics portray him as a useless idiot, and while he isn't intelligent, he is shown making overly melodramatic speeches in the first episode, so I opted to lean into that more.
As I haven't asked this for a while: Who are your top three favorite characters?
I also recently shared an anthology of short fics around the theme Father & Son which various writers from the discord participated in. There were a lot of fun interpretations. Thank you again to everyone who participated! :)
The next update will be September 3rd/4th instead of the 27th as I'm a little preoccupied with the Emperor/Knight Big Bang at the moment. There'll be content for you. Just not Excalibur content, lol.
Chat with me on the discord: discord . gg / uSBegVj
Thank you x1tears1X on FFN and Dark for your help with betaing.