A Young Girl's Guerilla War

by RagnartheSemiGreen

Tanya dies in an artillery barrage on the Rhine Front, contrary to both her and Being X's plans. Unwilling to let his chew toy escape so easily, Being X reincarnates Tanya back into Japan... Six years before Britannia conquers Area 11. (First posted on Space Battles)

27. Chapter 27: A Britannian Flower

Chapter 26: A Britannian Flower

(Thank you to Aminta Defender, Sunny, Restestsest, KoreanWriter, Mitch H. Rakkis157, MetalDragon, ScarletFox, and WrandmWaffles for beta-reading and editing this chapter. Thank you in particular to MetalDragon for his substantial input on the simulation sequence. Thank you to Aminta Defender for helping me thin out some of the scenes. I appreciate your help and advise.)

MAY 3, 2016 ATB
SHINJUKU GHETTO, TOKYO SETTLEMENT
2023

"-And according to Miss Fujiko, the Terminal #3 office will be completely empty, as the fumigation process isn't expected to wrap up until next Monday afternoon," Tanya said, pausing to turn to the next page in her notebook. "Which means that we have almost a week-long window to take action. After that, the weekly password will cycle, and infiltrating the Harbormaster's Office will have to be postponed, and of course, a delay in acquiring the information Kyoto requested would be…"

"Be unfortunate, yes, as it would probably reduce the value," Naoto sighed, eyes half closed as he tried to remember where exactly Tokai was concerning Shinjuku. Somewhere to the south… east, I think? "I suppose that's all doable. It's a bit of a trip from Shinjuku, though; way too far to walk, at least without the day pass lapsing. So, that leaves either stealing a car or taking the train, right?"

"That's right," Tanya confirmed, "and of the two, I think the train is the best option. Stealing a car introduces an unnecessary level of risk into the operation, as well as an uncontrolled factor. After all, what if the car's owner happens to notice four or five Numbers driving off in his sedan? Police attention for any reason is undesirable, especially since information known to be compromised loses a good deal of its value. Which would give Kyoto House an excuse to haggle us down."

"Alright, train it is," Naoto nodded along, fully aware that the younger halfbreed had likely already come to that decision and was probably just humoring him by explaining her reasoning. "That's going to require work passes, though. Plus some Britannian currency for the fare, not to mention getting the exterminator getups together."

"Already handled," Tanya's cool voice came on the heels of his own, "I spoke with Inoue before I headed over here. Work passes, train fare, bribe money, and a few extra pounds will be waiting at the station by the Kawadacho checkpoint, along with packs containing the jumpsuits, gas masks, and goggles, not to mention dummy canisters and aerosol dispensers. All we'll need to do is fill out our names on the passes and stroll on through."

Naoto nodded along, again more as a formality than anything else. The so-called "station" was, in truth, just a reinforced basement similar to the old Kozuki Cell headquarters, one of the many Tanya had commanded to be established throughout Shinjuku. The pocket strongholds were each garrisoned by a five-man squad at all times, with fresh units rotating every eight hours or so. Naoto didn't know how effective they'd be if push came to shove, but…

His brow creased; Naoto replayed the last few lines of the planning session back through his mind. Something was bothering him, something Tanya had said…

"Now," the diminutive resistance leader was saying, "I'm going to need every man chosen to have at least a decent grasp of Bri-"

"Wait a second," Naoto interrupted, palms pressed against the table as he halfway rose out of his chair. "Stop. Back up a step. What was the last thing you said?"

"All of the necessary materials will be waiting by the Kawadacho Checkpoint," Tanya replied, head tilted inquisitively, "Inoue told me she'd take care of it. All we'd need to do is write our names down on the work passes."

"Right, that's what I was afraid of." Naoto relaxed back into his seat and gave the girl a smile he didn't feel. That is what Hajime Tanya was, after all; a girl, a child. It was easy to forget that she was only slightly older now than Kallen had been when their father came for them. For all of her maturity, she still thought like a child in some surprising ways.

"Tell me, Tanya," he continued, speaking carefully and calmly, trying to sound as reasonable as possible without being patronizing, "why did you use the term 'we' regarding this strike team?"

A pair of big blue eyes blinked questioningly at him from across the table. "Because I would be leading the unit, of course," Tanya replied matter of factly as if that was a given. "I am probably the most experienced small unit leader we have present in Shinjuku, with Ohgi currently in Gunma. After all, I have led multiple small unit actions in just the last month. I can also speak Britannian without an Eleven accent"

"You are mostly correct," Naoto said, before explaining. "You are absolutely correct about your qualifications, even if I suspect that you're underselling yourself. However, you will not be leading the unit tomorrow. In fact, Tanya, you should consider yourself removed from the list of personnel available for this kind of mission." He paused. "Besides, aren't you a bit short to be an exterminator?"

"I'm… I'm sorry, but I don't understand what you're saying, Naoto." Tanya's tone was as cool and conversational as ever, but Naoto had grown wise to her game over the months. He heard the note of uncertainty under the smooth armor of the persona she had cultivated. Even if he'd missed that clear tell, the way her eyes had widened ever so slightly at his pronouncement would have served as an announcement of her sudden confusion.

So immature in strange ways, Naoto thought fondly. It almost feels like I caught her sneaking cookies or something. Didn't she raid Ohgi's snack stash that one time? I wonder if she ever realized that he'd bought those chocolate cookies specifically for her.

"Tanya," Naoto began again, "I know that you believe that leading the Rising Sun is your duty. Yes," he waved down the incipient interruption he knew was coming, "Yes, I know that you recognize my paramount leadership and so on. Just, please listen, alright?"

After a moment, the blonde slowly nodded, and Naoto continued. "Now, I know you feel like the Rising Sun is your duty. I don't know if I agree with that, but I will say you do a wonderful job at it. The people, in case you didn't know, love you. Personally, I think you have the blessing of the Gods, and that you are the leader we need. But, that doesn't mean you need to lead everything."

"And again," he waved placatingly at the brewing objection he could already hear, "I know that you delegate quite often. I am aware of your attempts to identify and raise more leaders to handle your duties. That's not what I'm talking about. Maybe I'm doing a bad job at explaining myself, but, to be completely blunt Tanya? You've become important. Too important. You are now too important to risk as the leader of a small unit."

He paused long enough to shoot her a dry smirk, "Congratulations, Tanya, you've become a general."

Naoto barely had time to lean back into his chair with his piece said before Tanya was jumping to rebuke it.

"I am not that important!" She immediately replied, words heated and passionate for all that she tried to hold onto her typical mask of chilly dispassion. "I am skilled, yes, and I am intelligent, but I am nothing special. You can give better speeches. Ohgi is a better teacher. Kallen will soon be the better fighter if she isn't already. Inoue is a far better logistician than I'll ever hope to be. I am good, but I'm not irreplaceable.

This…might just be the most genuine emotion I've seen out of her in quite a while. Naoto raised an eyebrow. Did I manage to touch a nerve somehow?

"I spent four months training twenty men and I got two of them killed. My greatest accomplishment was touching off a mass slaughter that has in turn spiraled out into a cycle of all-consuming violence!" With every word Tanya's volume and temper ratcheted higher and higher, dragging Naoto's worry over her mental state along with them. "And while I was busy leading good people to their deaths, you built a civic government and began a massive urban renewal project!"

"And, of course, I didn't stop there! I managed to negotiate not one but three disastrous bargains with Kyoto House," Tanya continued, "The first of which swapped handling dirty work for the Six Houses for an abandoned high school and the second of which involved indebting myself to a sociopath in exchange for basic supplies! The third deal handed the Six Houses a profit conservatively measured in the hundreds of thousands of pounds, if not the millions!"

I wonder how long she's been sitting on all of this, Naoto wondered, frown deepening with every word from her lips. Since Christmas, it sounds like.

"And then I spent weeks of my free time trying to figure out how to put my magic to use, and for all of that I got a half-assed joke I've only been able to use once!" The rant washed over Naoto as Tanya decided to take advantage of his invitation and the privacy to vent and get some things off her chest.

"So no, Naoto," Tanya said, her voice flattening back out, her pent-up emotions seemingly spent, "I am not irreplaceable. My magic is a non-factor, we have people capable of doing anything else I can do, and any public support I have is based on our Organization's material assets, not a particular regard for me personally.

"Were I to die tomorrow, the struggle would continue."

For a moment, both sat in uncomfortable silence. In the wake of her rant, Tanya seemed almost smaller somehow, almost lighter, as if she had been drained and exhausted by unburdening herself of her troubles. Naoto, on the other hand, was frantically scrambling for something to say in response to the matter-of-fact fatalism hanging in the air.

How do I inspire the girl who's inspired me to reach heights I'd never dared to dream of?

"...Perhaps," Naoto finally replied. "But… I'd miss you. So would Kallen. I know Ohgi would miss you too, as would Inoue, Nagata, Tamaki… Probably not Chihiro, but I doubt you'd miss her if she caught a bullet tomorrow either, so that's fair all the way around."

Naoto's small gallows-side joke was rewarded by an almost invisible smile, the corners of Tanya's mouth quirking up in cynical amusement for just a moment before she straightened her face back out again.

"That doesn't make me special, though," she stubbornly rebutted. "Most people have someone who would miss them if they die. I'm not special in that regard, nor irreplaceable. Everybody's lost something, yet the struggle will go on."

Naoto rubbed at his eyes. It's like dealing with Kallen, he thought with exasperation, but even worse. She's way too damned cynical for her age and she still hasn't figured out how to stop suppressing her emotions, at least when Oghi's not around.

"Look, Tanya," he tried again, "you're just wrong. I'm sorry, but that's just how it is. You've made yourself the face and the spirit of this fight. The fact is, for us rebels here? For the Rising Sun? You're more than a person, Tanya, you're a symbol now. You have to realize that, right?"

Predictably, Tanya fervently shook her head in denial.

I don't know whether to be depressed or annoyed, Naoto sighed. How about I settle for sarcastically amused?

"Oh, Tanya," Naoto groaned as he rubbed his tired eyes. "You're fucking killing me here, kid. Alright, let me spell it out for you."

He didn't need to look to know there was a frown on her adorably pinched face.

"You know why you're their symbol, Tanya?" Naoto started rhetorically, leaning in across the table for emphasis, "It's because you're a Shinjuku street rat, just like them. You've clawed your way to survive in this hell for years, just like them, all until you had enough power to do something."

"Most people? Hah-" Naoto let out a bitter laugh, "The moment they have an inch of power they use it to abuse everyone beneath them, always desperate for more. Selfish survival at all costs, even if it means you have to drag everyone else down to do it."

"But you, on the other hand?" Naoto shook his head with a proud grin. "When you found us, you didn't want us to just be another petty gang of power-hungry thugs. You inspired us to fight back against not just the Britannians, but against the gangs, the small evils that the JLF and Kyoto House tolerated and in fact made use of. As soon as you got money and supplies, you started distributing them to the community, sharing the wealth instead of hoarding it."

"Face it, Tanya," Naoto grinned at the girl, amused by how wobbly her stoic mask suddenly looked, "You are the prodigal daughter who's made it good and brought back food, medicine, and hope to the scrapings of the Ghetto. To them? I'm still an outsider. I still smack of Britannia and of nobility. I wasn't there. But you? You were. You were there with them. You haven't forgotten them. And they love you for it."

"Let's agree to disagree," Tanya proposed, her voice just slightly thicker than normal, hardly noticeable unless the listener was familiar with her usual metronome precision. "Whe-"

"Nope," Naoto cut her off, crossing his arms firmly over his chest.

Sorry Tanya, but if you're gonna be this stubborn I'm just going to have to pound this through your thick skull, Naoto thought, bracing himself for still more unpleasant conversation in an evening already full of the stuff. He could already see the shock at his interruption transmuting to outrage in Tanya's eyes. It's just like dealing with Kallen. Well, I guess it's time to put on my big brother pants again, eh?

"But, I-" Tanya started.

"Nope." Naoto shut her down again. He leaned down, making sure to meet her sapphire gaze, and spoke slowly and clearly, doing everything he could to broadcast his sincere intent. "You are irreplaceable, Tanya. That is a fact. The people love you, everyone in the organization loves you, I love you. And we wouldn't be anywhere near where we are today without your drive."

"I'm not!" Tanya protested futilely, the cracks in her mask growing, "I'm just-"

"The person who's inspired us to go farther than we ever dared dream?" Naoto smirked. "The girl who's led all of the most successful raids in our history? The kid who managed to take the fight straight to Britannia, and brought eight of her soldiers back alive? The only person I've heard of to pit infantry against Knightmares and win since Tohdoh left Itsukushima?"

She folded under the weight of her accomplishments, so Naoto ruthlessly pushed his advantage further.

"How about the girl who managed to negotiate with both the Six Houses and the JLF, people who were so far out of our league not even a year ago that I would have never even considered making contact?" Naoto leaned forward again, letting his voice soften. "I can't even begin to count the number of people who are alive today because of you, and you're only twelve. How many more lives will you impact as you grow older? How many more people will you inspire?"

Naoto sat back up, shaking his head with a soft chuckle. "The fact is, Tanya, you're the heart of this operation. Without you, we might all fall apart."

"Then why are you trying to demote me?" Tanya asked angrily, lashing out in response to his emotional appeal. "Why are you taking me away from the front, Naoto? Surely I am the best combat leader we have – why aren't you using me to my full potential? When we divided up responsibilities, you said I'd be in charge of combat operations! Have you changed your mind? Did I lose your confidence along the way?"

"What?" Naoto blinked, nonplussed. "No, don't be silly. Why would you even think that? Actually, no, don't bother. No, Tanya, you haven't lost my confidence or whatever. You're just too important. If anything, you're getting a promotion. I mean-"

He stopped himself and sighed, " Look, it's like… It's like chess. Do you know chess?"

When Tanya tentatively nodded, Naoto continued. "It's like chess. The king can't lead from the front, because if the king gets captured, that's it, game over. The king has to stay in the back and direct the movement of the other pieces. If a pawn or a bishop gets it, that's a loss. If the king gets it, well…that's that, game over."

"And so I can't lead from the front… I've got to stay in the rear…" A complicated expression crossed Tanya's face, and even after months of experience with the enigmatic girl with ancient eyes, Naoto couldn't begin to unravel what it meant. "A cushy position in the rear… because I'm too valuable to risk in combat…" Suddenly, she was glaring at him. "Is this some kind of joke?" she hissed, "are you trying to protect me like you did with Kallen?"

"Nope," Naoto easily replied. "I learned my lesson. Strange as this might be to say, considering that you are technically still too young to take your high school admissions exams, but your ability as a planner, a propagandist, and a living symbol now outweigh your admittedly impressive skills as a soldier, junior officer, and assassin."

Frustratingly, she still looked somewhat unconvinced. Gods, what do I need to say to her? Naoto half-thought, half-prayed. How do you convince someone who goes to war like she's meeting her beloved that she can do far more damage from behind a desk?

Suddenly, inspiration struck.

"I'm not trying to protect you, Tanya," Naoto continued, "I'm trying to take maximum advantage of a scarce resource; namely, your mental capabilities. There are over two hundred thousand people in Shinjuku, good killers and squad leaders are ultimately replaceable. Those who aren't replaceable are people like you. People who can command power with the wisdom and compassion needed to actually save our people."

"Wisdom and compassion? Pheh!" Tanya's scorn was obviously played up, a cheap emotional display to conceal the more sincere emotions Naoto could practically feel radiating off her from across the table. "Well, you are the leader and the Kozuki of the Kozuki Organization. If you're really sure about this…"

"I am," Naoto said firmly. "If I am your leader, I will put you where I think you will do the most good for the Cause. In this case, I firmly believe your mind is more valuable than your trigger finger."

"Well, in that case…" Tanya rubbed briefly at her eyes before lifting her notebook to her face and flipping through some pages. "Hang on, I have a list of promising squad leaders from amongst the Sun Guard somewhere…"

For the remainder of the meeting, Naoto stayed on edge, waiting for the seemingly inevitable moment when Tanya would just "happen" to task herself with some sort of role in tomorrow's mission, or in one of the multitudes of other, smaller tasks that involved significant personal risk. The moment never came, and the remainder of the meeting was quite productive.

As he got ready for bed and slipped between the sheets of his cot, all Naoto could think about was how, strangely, he had finally made good on the request Ohgi had made during that drinking session up on the roof of this very building almost a year ago now. He had finally found a role for Tanya in the Organization that kept her far from the frontline.

Somehow, he thought as he drifted off to sleep, I doubt this is quite what Ohgi had in mind.

MAY 4, 2016 ATB
ASHFORD ACADEMY, TOKYO SETTLEMENT
1400

"Attention all students," Milly's voice came in, chipper and bright over the intercom as she interrupted sixth period, "please report to the gymnasium for a mandatory assembly. Teachers, please make sure your students arrive at the gym in the next fifteen minutes. See you there!"

At the front of the classroom, Missus Selwyn, the literature teacher, sighed as she dropped her chalk and wiped the dust off her fingers. "I suppose John Donne can wait for another day since I doubt this assembly will be over by the time the bell rings. He has waited four centuries, so it shouldn't be that much of an imposition."

Kallen forced herself to return the teacher's smile as she hastily packed her materials away and buried the familiar anger. Of course I couldn't enjoy one of the few things I like about this school in peace. No, of fucking course not! Milly just has to shove her arrogant head into things.

Missus Selwyn, at only thirty-three years old, was one of Ashford's younger teachers, and definitely one of the most popular. That was most likely due to her lax approach to homework, as well as the way she filled out her dress. Kallen had heard more than enough whispers swapped between the boys, and the girls, sitting around her regarding that particular topic, enough to make her gag.

I wonder if their disgusting depravity comes from being Britannians, nobles, or teenagers? Kallen grumbled internally. She very carefully didn't think about the fact that she was all three of those as well.

Still, what Kallen appreciated about Missus Selwyn was her actual skill as a teacher, not as a source of easy A's or eye candy. Unlike many of Ashford's other teachers, Missus Selwyn brought a genuine enthusiasm for her topic into the room. Her class never felt like she was just checking boxes off a list of mandatory topics while filling her students' heads with Britannian indoctrination; it felt like she took them on a real journey through history and culture every period. Though even for a literature teacher there were subjects and interpretations even Missus Selwyn avoided.

She was enthusiastic about teaching, not suicidal.

In the endless swamp of irritations great and small best known as Ashford Academy, Missus Selwyn's class was an enriching experience for Kallen, something that always made her soul sing with relief.

And that's a hell of a lot more than I can say about anything else in this gaudy shithole, Kallen thought as she sucked in a harsh breath, trying to force her anger back under control. And of course, Milly had to ruin it for her own amusement just like always. Can't wait to see what absurd farce she has waiting for us this time.

Kallen sighed and flipped her Academy-issued valise closed. She joined the queue at the classroom's door, wincing slightly whenever another student jostled her. Tanya had been particularly aggressive during yesterday's training session, not that Kallen minded.

Far from it! Kallen grinned to herself. I pinned her three out of five times last night! Her damned midget arms can't hold me down anymore! The grin faded. Now if only I could beat her on the range, she'd have to send me to The School…

The tiny tributary of teenagers fleeing from the works of John Donne fed into the slowly swelling river of the student body as more students poured out of classrooms and laboratories. Most took the opportunity presented by the sudden break from routine to chat with their friends as they made their way down to the Academy's massive gymnasium.

How many could I kill if I planted just a single bomb here, in this hall? Kallen wondered idly as she picked her way through the crowd. I wonder how many of these pampered nobles would survive to get the wake-up call they so richly deserve?

Kallen let the pleasant image of the aftermath, drawn from her memories of the subway station, linger. It was a temporary refuge from reality. The thoughts of stuffy Britannians screaming and crying as the real world crashed down on them in all of its horrors lifted her mood from her thoughts of Milly's frivolous interference. But, after a moment, Kallen regretfully let the fantasy drift away.

After all, I don't need Tanya giving me another lecture. She shivered at the thought. Her friend had made it abundantly clear to Kallen how unhelpful such an act would ultimately be, the one time she'd proposed it …But it's still fun to think about.

Heh! Just the thought of Milly's horrified face as her whole palace burns around her… This time, the smile that slipped onto Kallen's face was entirely genuine.

Keeping that thought in mind, Kallen kept the smile on her face as she rejoined the chattering flow. She was a professional, as she had so often told herself, and so she played her part as the well-adjusted and socially engaged young lady to the hilt as she made her way to the gymnasium. She nodded happily to anybody who made eye contact, fueling her smile with secret thoughts of murder.

I wonder how many of the smiles surrounding me are equally deceptive? It was a troubling thought. I mean, I'm betting none of these idiots have any idea who I really am or what I do at night, but that can cut both ways. How many of these smiling students are secretly police informers, eager to pass my name on to their handlers?

I can't stand out. I can't slip up. I can't trust any of them, not one bit.

Suddenly inspired by the paranoia-inducing thought, Kallen allowed herself to be dragged into a conversation with Steven and Cara, from the Student Newspaper. The nattering and shallow exchange was a waste of time in her opinion, even if it did make for effective social camouflage, and she happily moved on even before Cara started glowering at her. Cara tended to be protective of her boyfriend, and Kallen might have even called her clingy if it wasn't for Steve's wandering eyes, or hands.

As it was, she could only hope that he was found out in a suitably public fashion to maximize both of their embarrassment.

Is there a more revolting cesspool of disgusting masks and depraved intent than this excuse for a school? Maybe it's on purpose, to give kids practice at the circus called noble politics? Kallen almost sneered.

And don't think I didn't notice you two coming out of the ladies' room together, Kallen thought, adding the tiny detail to her internal notes as she swapped speculations about the surprise assembly with Cara. I wonder if Ashford has a maternity uniform ready to be issued? Considering who designed this absurd uniform, I wouldn't be surprised.

As she left her slow-moving club members behind, the pair seemingly more focused on each other than on the assembly they were supposed to be heading towards, Kallen noticed another quiet figure skulking along the wall.

That's the nerd from my chemistry class, right? Umm… Kallen frowned, trying to remember the name. Something European, right? Einstan? Eizenstein? No… Einstein! Nina Einstein, that's right. She's on the Student Council with Rivalz and Milly, and judging by how the teacher talks to her, something of a science prodigy.

For a moment, Kallen weighed her options. On the one hand, she'd love nothing more than to ignore the girl whose unsubtle gaze had lingered on Kallen uncomfortably often over the last few months. On the other hand, she had to at least appear to be a sociable young Britannian lady, and speaking with the quiet nerd with eyes for her would probably be less infuriating than dealing with any of her louder "peers".

Plus, if she really is that much of a science prodigy, perhaps I'll find some use for her.

"Hey there, Nina!" Kallen chirped in her best Milly Ashford-inspired voice; the immediate wave of self-loathing she experienced probably meant she had struck the proper balance of vapidity and smug self-satisfaction. God, I hate this place.

Still, Kallen forced her revulsion down and focused on the task at hand with all the false cheer she could manufacture. "Looking forward to the assembly?"

"Oh… Hi, Kallen…" The bespectacled girl's greeting was almost drowned out by the ambient clatter of the hallway. Kallen resisted the urge to demand that she speak up. "How… how are you…?"

Let's see, I've interacted with Nina a grand total of once before, and that was when I just asked if we'd had homework for chem the night before. So… no information about her likes or dislikes. Other than that wandering eye of hers. Damn. Sincerity it is, I guess.

"Curious to hear what interrupted literature class," Kallen replied with a grimace. "I stayed up late to finish last night's homework, and Selwyn didn't even collect the assignments before the announcement came in. I could have gotten a whole hour of sleep and pushed the essay on iambic pentameter off for a whole 'nother day!"

"You… Uhh… You shouldn't wait on your homework…" Nina retorted, flushing slightly under Kallen's incredulous gaze. "Well… It would only get worse… And this way, you won't have to do it tonight, right?"

"Well… You might have a point there," Kallen grudgingly admitted, "I guess that will give me time to catch back up on chemistry, freakin' molarity…"

"D-do you want any help…?" Nina timidly asked, clearly forcing herself to look at Kallen as she spoke. "I… I'd probably be able to help explain stuff to you…"

Real subtle, Nina. Kallen nearly sighed aloud with her irritation. It's totally not like you've been struggling to not stare at my tits the whole time we've been talking, right? Still, I could probably use a few pointers, and it wouldn't be too much trouble to break her if she got too handsy. And, unlike Milly, she doesn't have any special social status to protect her.

"I might take you up on that offer some other day," Kallen said aloud, "but I've got plans already. I really would appreciate some help, though – you seem to truly have a knack for all this science stuff!"

"T-thanks…" Nina blushed, "I genuinely like it… hard numbers, hard facts… it's way easier to understand t-than people are…"

"Aren't you on the Student Council?" Kallen asked as they approached the gym's entrance, feigning ignorance. "I think I remember Rivalz mentioning you at some meeting?"

"I'm the Treasurer…" Nina mumbled, "I'm good with math too… Math and science… and computers… that's all I'm really good for…"

"Hey now, no need to be down on yourself," Kallen replied, suddenly uncomfortable. Dammit, Tanya's the reassuring one! I'm the one who asks the hard questions! Well, me and Naoto… And Diethard… Maybe I need to branch out? "There's nothing wrong with liking computers! Heck, I wish I liked math too. That would make things so much easier."

"Thanks, Kallen…" Nina replied with a shy smile. "H-hey… Are you, uhh… Are you busy after the assembly?"

"Depends on how long it goes; if Milly doesn't take too long, we've still got seventh and eighth periods," Kallen pointed out. "And yeah, I have plans after school today, remember? Sorry, Nina. Maybe some other day?"

"Y-yeah…" Nina sighed, not before shooting Kallen what the Stadtfeld heiress could only describe as a glance pregnant with longing. "Someday… Bye, Kallen."

"Bye Nina," Kallen replied awkwardly as the shorter girl disappeared into the milling crowd of students. "See you around…"

What a creep, Kallen thought with a shiver of disgust as she waited for the crush of students around the gym's entrance to dissolve. A pair of teachers were bellowing something about standing in alphabetical order by last name, so Kallen moved towards the back of the crowd, reasoning that the "S's" would probably be at the back of the assembly anyway. Well, maybe not a creep. Just an awkward and weird girl. But… Man, even Rivalz isn't that obvious. Learn some control, Nina. Ugh.

Then Kallen remembered who she attended school with. Not just the Britannian noble children, with their arrogance and games and careless hedonism, who made up the student body, but the self-proclaimed Queen of Ashford Academy and sitting President of the Student Council. …Admittedly, all things considered, it's a miracle you're as reasonable as you are, Nina. After all, you could be another Milly.

Then, as if even thinking the name had somehow summoned her presence, a miniaturized yet energetic pocket catastrophe fell on Kallen's shoulders.

"Heya Kallen," a smirking Milly Ashford said by way of greeting, slipping out from the crowd and into Kallen's personal space, "Long time no see! It's almost like you've been avoiding me!"

"Not at all, Madam President," Kallen replied to the blonde, suppressing her rage at the other girl's faux-pout in favor of a sweetness just a hint too saccharine to be sincere. "I've just been very busy lately, you know how it is. Finals are less than a month away, so I've been pretty busy reviewing."

If pressed, Kallen would be forced to admit that she no longer hated Milly the same way she had last year, before their little detente in January when Milly had let her mask of aloof whimsy momentarily slip. The revelation that the teasing blonde actually gave a shit about Rivalz and even seemed to sincerely care about Kallen had been eye-opening. No longer did Milly seem like some sort of cold-hearted spider, constantly attempting to enmesh her in her shadowy web.

That slight improvement in her opinion of the other girl hadn't diluted the rest of Kallen's resentment, however. Whether or not she had a heart didn't change the fact that Milly swanned about the place as if it was her personal palace, tweaking and teasing everyone around her in elaborate manipulations for no purpose but her own sense of whimsy and perverse pleasure.

Oh yes, I still hate that frivolous bitch. I'd hack that oh-so-carefully shampooed hair from her scalp with a dull knife if I could get away with it. Kallen scowled internally. But, I can't say she's completely worthless as a human being. She's just a juvenile, nosy, arrogant, horny brat of a Britannian lady who's in dire need of a reality check outside the walls of her little empire, where she holds all the cards.

An image flitted through her brain, of taking Milly down to Shinjuku to see that pile of butchered meat they'd turned those other Britannian pervs into. Of showing the Ashford heiress her brother's special basement, where they'd ground the remains of other arrogant Britannians down into so much ash and slurry. Of introducing her to Tanya. Kallen knew it would never happen, but the daydream tasted as sweet as sin.

"Boooring!" Milly rolled her eyes dramatically, her expression suddenly drooping with feigned weariness. "You're going to grow old and gray before your time if you keep it up, and then how will you get a boyfriend?! Live a little, Kallen!"

Live a little? Kallen almost sneered. Do you call indulging in classroom debauchery living?

"I live plenty already, thank you very much," Kallen replied cooly. "I've got my classes, all of my holidays are booked solid with all the stupid social events my mother keeps forcing me to attend, and I've got my extracurricular! I'm busy enough, and that's not even getting into my study time!"

"Your extracurricular?" The damnable smirk returned to Milly's face, the exhausted mask vanished without a trace. "Which one? Do you mean the Ashford Gazette? Or do you mean the charity you're running out in the Settlement? From what I hear, you put on quite the performance there on Monday! I guess there's hope for you after all, Stadtfeld! I knew you had to have some of that deliciously hot redheaded passion somewhere deep inside!"

Fuck! In that instant, Kallen had to resist the urge to whirl around and pin Milly by her throat until her poisoned tongue protruded, bloated and swollen, from between her lips. Remember why you're here, Kozuki!

"I don't know what you're talking about," Kallen replied, trying to stall. "There isn't much about Monday that I'd call passionate. The soup was kind of spicy, I guess."

What does she know? Kallen scrambled through the memories of the night in her head. Whatever she knows, she got it from Rivalz. That boy is obsessed with her and would tell her anything she wanted to hear. So… She knows about the encounter with the soldiers, but not my talk with Alan. Why does she care about any of that?

"Ah, ah, ah!" Milly waggled a reproving finger under Kallen's nose. Kallen resisted the temptation to bite it off. "None of that sass! I know exactly what you did, even second-hand! Kallen, you might as well have handed that poor man a sword and told him to go slit open his belly! I mean, it probably would have been kinder than eviscerating him with words like you did!"

Milly smiled. "I'm proud of you, Stadtfeld. You're growing into a splendid young Britannian flower."

A splendid Britannian flower?! Kallen's teeth ground together so hard her gums ached, and it took all she had not to slug the bitch in the face. Fuck. You.

The tinkling of bells filled the air and Milly's eyes flew open. Her hand darted into her pocket, and as Kallen very carefully didn't react to the sudden movement she pulled out her phone and turned off an alarm. "Looks like I gotta go! Sorry Kallen, I'd love to chat, but today's a special day and I'm a little busy! Things to see, people to do, you know how it is!"

"Sure, whatever," Kallen said, still trying to push down her boiling fury. "Don't let me keep you, Madam President."

"Make sure you don't slip out of the assembly early, Kallen!" Milly said, turning on her heel and starting to dart away into the crowd. "It's in the memory of our dear departed royals, after all! Plus, there's a surprise at the end, and I'm betting you're gonna love it~!"

Kallen's eyes narrowed. "A surprise…?" She started through gritted teeth, but Milly was already gone, lost in a sea of uniforms.

Fuck. What does that bitch have planned next? Kallen forced her jaw to unclench with an angry breath. Dammit, I can't let this get to me. Deep breaths, Kallen. Focus on the mission.

Minutes later, Kallen finally found her way into the gymnasium and to her allotted spot in the neatly ordered lines. Finally, after much shuffling around, the assembly began with the opening bars of the Academy's anthem blaring through the public address system. Then Milly took the stage, leaping up onto the platform where commentators and referees sat during volleyball games, and where a podium with a microphone dutifully awaited her arrival.

"Goooooooooooood afternoon to all the handsome boys and pretty girls out there! And also to the rest of the Ashford student body. How are you doing this fine spring day?" The blonde basked in the dutiful applause and the adoring cries of "Milly, be my girlfriend!" from the audience. Kallen resisted the urge to scowl at the theatrics. "Glad to see you're all awake out there!"

"Now, while I'm sure you all would love nothing more than to watch me rock the stage for the next half hour or so…" Milly paused invitingly, and a chorus of wolf whistles obliging rose from the crowd, "I'm going to hand you all over to Major Pitt, of His Majesty's Armed Forces Reserve Officer Training Corps! I do so love a dashing man in uniform, so please be kind to him!"

The man Milly handed the microphone over to was, in Kallen's opinion, far from dashing. A finely pointed waxed mustache thirty years out of style failed to liven up the face of a born bureaucrat, and while his uniform was well tailored and fit him well, it still failed to be particularly flattering. But none of that changed the fact that he was still Britannian military, a threat and an enemy to any who opposed his cruel Empire.

I have a bad feeling about this.

"Good afternoon, my lords and ladies," Major Pitt began, his tone almost depressingly mundane after Milly's enthusiasm. "Thank you all for attending this assembly, and thank you to Ashford Academy for giving me some time to speak with you."

At some invisible signal, a light wave of applause washed through the gymnasium. Kallen reluctantly joined in, clapping presumably at the mention of the Academy's name. At least the bastard in gray shut up for a moment, so I guess that's something.

After a moment, Major Pitt waved for quiet and continued as the desultory applause faded away. "I'm sure that you are all aware that our beloved Viceregal-Governor, Prince Clovis, has declared May the Fourth as Vi Britannia Day, a holiday dedicated to his much lamented… royal… siblings."

What the hell? Kallen frowned, slightly confused. What was with that pause just now? And… it's a bit hard to tell from all the way back here, but did Pitt just sneer at the mention of the dead kids? That's… weird.

"I have a prepared statement to read on His Highness's behalf," Pitt said as he opened an envelope on stage, no trace of his peculiar expression remaining as he unfolded the contents. "Indeed, all of you fine young lords and ladies should be honored; this speech came straight to my hands from His Highness's desk itself, written expressly for you on this very first Vi Britannia Day.

"To all of my dear subjects," the Major began, making no attempt to add any rhetorical flair as he read the speech straight from the page. He apparently hadn't been chosen for his assignment on the basis of charisma. Or showmanship. "And in particular to all of the sweet students of Ashford Academy, I bid you greetings. Sadly, I cannot bid you the joyous greetings that the flower of the youth of Britannia deserves, as my heart is burdened with the tragedy of six years ago.

"Indeed, it was six years ago that my dear little half-brother, Lelouch vi Britannia, as well as his sister Nunnally, were callously murdered by the Japanese. It was the second great insult that petulant race offered up against our glorious Empire and the one that cuts me deeply to this day. Their first offense was a gauntlet thrown down at the feet of our Emperor as the head of state, but the murders were a cowardly attempt to knife the heart of our Imperial Father."

Just a pity we couldn't force a real knife between his ribs somehow… Kallen thought, enjoying the mental image as she tried to ignore the slights against her subjugated nation.

Up on stage, Pitt continued on, his delivery growing flatter with each passing sentence. "If my siblings were alive today, oh Ashford Students, they would walk amongst you. Lelouch would be sixteen this year, and Nunnally thirteen. Perhaps they would have been your classmates. And so, I now charge you to go forth to remake the world in their memory. To make a world more beautiful, more artistic, and more Britannian than the cruel world that took them.

"This I, Clovis la Britannia, Third Prince of the Britannian Empire, command you! All Hail Britannia!"

"ALL HAIL BRITANNIA!"

Even as Kallen joined her voice with the crowd's in acclaiming the empire she hated, she could only smile with pride at the last actions of the long-dead Prime Minister Kururugi, so different from his degraded son. For all of his foolishness in life, at least the Prime Minister had struck one last blow against Britannia by killing the hostage royals before he further denied Britannia the spectacle of his ritual execution.

For all of his failures as a leader, Kallen reflected, Kururugi Genbuu died with honor. At least Charles, the Man of Blood, learned the pain of losing his children thanks to the Conquest. Not that he probably cared, the monster.

"Now…" Major Pitt asked, absently returning the envelope containing the prince's speech to his jacket pocket as if it was a mundane document, nothing more important than a utility bill. "How many of you are familiar with the ROTC?"

A forest of hands rose. Kallen raised her hand as well so she wouldn't stand out in the crowd.

"Good to hear," Pitt said with a perfunctory smile. "For those unaware, the ROTC is a training cadre for young people from good families, such as yourselves. We provide a first introduction to the basics of military life and strive to educate Britannia's generals, admirals, and commanders of tomorrow, today. For those who show particular aptitude or dedication, the ROTC provides a special track to institutes of higher learning, including the Imperial College at Colchester."

Excited murmurs ran through the assembled student body. Kallen remained quiet, but she could understand the enthusiasm. The Imperial College was the premier center for higher learning in the Empire, and virtually all of the major military, industrial, and technological figures of note in the last century and a half had passed through its halls, including Reuban Ashford, the Academy's headmaster and the father of the modern Knightmare Frame.

The Imperial College at Colchester was also, Kallen knew, her own father's alma mater. She had seen the famous seal on a framed diploma hanging in his office at the family's ancestral estate, back in the Homeland, at New Leicester.

"But of course, the ROTC also has a mission to find and recruit promising candidates for roles as junior officers, specialists, or even in admittedly limited cases, Knightmare Devicers!" At the mere mention of the prized position, the major had the entire student body hanging onto his every word. Kallen was tempted to roll her eyes, but even she couldn't fully deny the flicker of interest deep inside.

Yet, neither could she deny her own churning instincts, all of which screamed that she was under threat, that this unassuming man was an enemy of hers in particular. What's your angle here, Major? Come to find more second sons eager to lay down their lives for a taste of pride?

"Yes, if you have ambitions to one day receive a knighthood and serve in His Majesty's Armed Forces as a devicer, your best option is to join ROTC, where you will have access to simulators and instructors," Major Pitt said, continuing his sales pitch. "Yes, not everybody can become a devicer – only the best! But, if you do manage it, you'll become the armored fist, the bared sword of the Empire!"

Of course. Kallen wanted to sneer. The "best of the best". Her lip twitched as she remembered the story Tanya had recounted, of how the so-called "bared sword of the Empire" met their ignoble end at the hands of a decent ambush conducted by infantry armed with simple rockets. But sure, keep padding their ego. After all, how else are you going to fill your purse with blood money if you can't scrape enough fodder together for the meat grinder? Gotta meet that quota!

"Why," the Major's waxed mustache flicked upwards in a smile, "it was less than a decade ago that those devicers, the Empire's later-day knights, seized this land from its unworthy inhabitants, conquering this barbaric country in three days of victory! When those pathetic Numbers caught sight of our glorious knights, they fled from the field in awe and terror! And all their excuse of a leader could do was kill a couple of children out of petty spite."

Lies! Kallen's soul screeched with indignant fury, ignoring the sour grapes of the Major's last sentence. Lies lies lies!

Yet for all of her anger, she couldn't immediately refute his claims. The Conquest had officially taken a month to complete active operations, but all of the major fighting had taken place during the first three days, including the famous Miracle at Itsukushima. The mop-up, of course, had continued through to the present.

Yeah! We didn't just flee! We're still fighting, you bastard!

"Why, I remember those days fondly. I was there myself, you know! Cutting down the cowardly Eleven 'army' like wheat before the scythe, showing them that their primitive military was no match for a truly honorable foe."The Britannian allowed himself a hearty chuckle. "Really, that's all the Elevens were good for, left to their own devices: running, hiding, and dying like the worthless dogs. They should thank us for taking them in hand!"

It was all Kallen could do to keep herself from growling aloud. Her hands ached from how tightly she clenched her fists, rage boiling in her veins. Her teeth ground together as she fought for self-control. She could hardly even think, so consumed was she with the effort of reigning in her hatred for the mediocre little man who bragged of slaughter.

And bragged to children about it! Kallen suspected the bland Major Pitt had been far from the cutting edge; otherwise, his words wouldn't reek quite so strongly of insecurity. A pig like him probably hasn't ever spilled blood. He's just gloating about the sacrifices of better men. Typical of Britannia.

"That is what the ROTC can offer you – a chance to become a knight, to go abroad seeking monsters to slay! And," Pitt grinned, "perhaps rescue a fair prince or princess as your very own reward along the way!"

A wave of lecherous laughter and whoops, both masculine and feminine, swept through the Academy gymnasium, accompanied by a susurration of fervent whispers as seemingly every student present exchanged dreams of glory and conquest. Britannian to the core, all of them.

The smile Kallen forced onto her lips hurt, but she fed it with dreams of her own glorious war. One day, I'll be the one peeling the skin off your cowardly backs.

"But," Major Pitt continued after the raucous laughter died down, "even if you aren't looking for a career in the military or planning on attempting higher education, ROTC can open many doors for you. The inclusion of ROTC on your resume will tell potential employers that…"

The sales pitch continued, peppered with smarmy thanks to the Ashford Administration for finally allowing ROTC to set up shop on campus, a "development that is far overdue, unfortunately, delayed by the circumstances of the Area."

For her part, Kallen did her best to endure the interminably long speech, trying to hold onto her anger as it was slowly drowned in a rising tide of boredom. She idly noted that office space had already been set aside for the on-campus recruiting mission and that part of the Equestrian Club's riding grounds would be converted into a rifle range.

Focusing on the details helped her control her temper.

Twenty minutes later, Major Pitt finally started winding down his speech. "Thank you very much for your close and patient attention. Remember, my door is always open. Now, without further ado, I'll hand you back to the gorgeous Miss Ashford."

"Thanks, Major!" Kallen stifled a groan as Milly bounced back onto the stage. "And thank you, all you Ashfordians! Let's give the Major a hearty round of applause to thank him for his time!"

Like a marionette dancing on a string, Kallen dully brought her hands together three times before abandoning the pretense. How much longer is this damned assembly going to take? She groaned inside her head, shifting her weight from foot to foot to try and channel some of her antsy energy. Even by Britannian standards, it's a waste of everybody's time. And we're paying tuition to be here!

"You've all been very patient," Milly said from on stage as if she'd heard Kallen's unspoken complaint, "and my grandfather and I really appreciate it. I'm sure Major Pitt does too! In fact, the Major actually set up a little activity to thank you all and to celebrate Vi Britannia Day!"

An ominous feeling washed over Kallen as uniformed men started wheeling boxy structures that looked suspiciously familiar into the gymnasium, one by one until a full two dozen of the things stood between the audience and the stage.

"So, all you fine-strapping young men and fine stripping-young ladies," Milly winked, "haven't you ever wanted to see what it's like to pilot a Knightmare?"

The crowd roared in agreement, a horde of screaming children crying out for a taste of martial honor without the faintest concept of what it meant to fight for your life. In that roar, Kallen thought she heard the true anthem of Britannia, stripped of all of its civilized pretensions.

Animals, all of them, she thought with disgust even as she raised her own enthusiastic voice. And they have the nerve to call us barbarians!

The teachers once again had to provide crowd control as the student body stampeded towards the line of what Kallen had belatedly recognized were KMF simulators. The iron-lunged PE instructor, backed by the Assistant Headmaster, managed to impose order, chivvying eager students into a long queue, which fed into the waiting simulators.

Not wanting to stand out in the enthusiastic horde, Kallen allowed herself to be herded into line and prepared to wait. The feeling of ominous tension in her gut only increased as the crowd's enthusiasm continued to mount. Something was going to happen very soon, Kallen could tell, something big, something awful. Every nerve in her body already felt like it had been scraped with a dull knife.

At least the boredom of standing in line was mildly alleviated once one of the tech's set up a screen displaying a digital scoreboard.

"We score your results based on the number of targets destroyed and the length of your time in the simulation," Major Pitt explained as the first students mounted the steps to the simulators. "The number of targets destroyed helps us quantify your reaction time and coordination, while the time helps us estimate your endurance."

Only a minute later, the first score appeared on the board as a simulator door popped open and a rather chubby boy staggered down the steps. The three columns of the screen populated with the boy's initials, the number of targets he had eliminated (zero), and how long he had lasted in the simulation, all of eight seconds.

"What kind of test are you running?" Kallen could clearly hear the petulance over the noise of the crowd. "There's no way that's fair! How the hell was I supposed to react to that?! I could barely dodge the first strike!"

"Ha!" Pitt barked, "I said we were here to recruit the best of the best, did I not? Seizing the glory of being a devicer is an honor reserved for only the most elite." The Major smirked. "We certainly couldn't let any common rabble carry the honor of the Imperial Knightmare corps, now could we?"

The boy balked at the man's choice of words and Kallen could feel the overall mood of the crowd dim slightly at his public humiliation. The whispers started quietly, but grew rapidly; the sotto voce sentiments were clearly shared by the bulk of the crowd.

"I don't want to just embarrass myself…"

"Do I really have a chance?"

"It sounds hopeless!"

Kallen almost scoffed, twisting her face into a mask of concern to fit in with the cowards around her. Just one hint of adversity, and you're already willing to call it quits? Typical Britannian nobility; no stomach for real work. No stomach for fake real work, even!

Up at the front of the line, just below the stage, Major Pitt frowned heavily at the sudden storm of disconsolate muttering. After a moment, he sneered at the balking line of students and pulled a notepad from his uniform jacket. To Kallen's sudden interest, Milly's polite smile stretched into a mockery of itself at the sight of the tiny black book. Immediately, she stepped forward and rested a hand on his shoulders.

"Not to worry, Major – of course they're a little shy! We so rarely enjoy the company of visiting notables such as yourself, after all! Even my heart flutters at the thought of making a fool of myself in front of you!" Milly's eyes darted back and forth over the crowd, undeniably frantic until alighting upon a target, an earnest if vulpine grin suddenly springing across her face. "Well, Mr. Vice-President, come on up here! Your constituents need encouragement!"

The packed gymnasium burst into excited tittering and the throng ahead of Kallen parted to allow a clear path up to the stage. At the end of the path, previously concealed by the cover of the crowd, a dark figure crossed his arms and glared.

"Please, Lelouch?" Milly begged, and while her smile remained plastered across her face, Kallen thought she heard a note of surprising sincerity underneath the lighthearted needling. "Come on up here and help us all show the dear Major the depth of our loyalty!"

With obvious reluctance, Lelouch Lamperouge climbed the steps up the bleachers and joined Milly on the referee platform turned temporary stage. Kallen had to admit they made an impressive pair; almost exactly equal in height, Lelouch's raven hair was a perfect contrast to Milly's cornsilk blonde. Like her, he smiled as he stared out over the crowd, but Kallen noticed how his hands balled into fists before he nonchalantly tucked them behind his back.

"Well, there you have it, ladies!" Milly shouted, "the top scorer will be wined and dined in our darling Lelouch's illustrious company." As the cheers crescendoed, the blonde leered. "If you are lucky, maybe you'll even luck your way into a passionate night – only the finest for the heroes and heroines of Britannia!"

Are people really this shallow? Kallen wondered, feeling suddenly very alone in the jubilant atmosphere. She knew the Vice-President was popular for some inestimable reason, but an obligatory date seemed entirely meaningless to her, barring Milly's mention of a passionate night. There's just no way she'd make him go through with that, would she? There's no way, but… No. Not even Britannians would sell themselves so cheaply… Would they?

"As for the gentlemen..." Milly's eyes swept over the room, on the hunt once more. "We need a noble lady of refined grace and skill for such a special occasion, which means I unfortunately don't qualify." Her laugh was slightly too shrill. Kallen wondered what she was so scared of. Displeasing her Britannian masters, presumably. "Hmm? What do you say, Shirley? Maybe your dear Lulu will rescue you, eh? Your very own knight in shining armor!"

"Madame President!" a red-haired girl wailed from up in front of Kallen. To Kallen's vague disgust, she didn't sound very offended by the suggestion. To her ears, the other girl's objections bore an unmistakably eager edge. Just when I finally thought I'd found another sane person in this asylum… Seriously, is everyone here but Rivalz and I a complete degenerate?

"Or..." Milly's gaze swept past the redhead and bore into Kallen.

I have a bad feeling about this, Kallen thought as her stomach knotted in sudden anxiety. Dammit, shut up Milly! Just stay quiet… Please just keep your damned trap shut…

"The favor of a proper lady would be perfect for the gallant winner of our knight-mare-ley competition, eh?" To Kallen's horror, Milly's finger lanced out from her perch like a thrown spear, all but dripping with evil energy. "Kallen, my dear, would you lend me and the Vice President a hand in stoking a fire in the heart of all of Ashford in the Major's honor?"

From all around Kallen lecherous gazes swept over her as her fellow students openly appraised Milly's choice. For her part, Kallen bristled defiantly, glaring back at the blonde gorgon. No, she growled silently, I won't be a pawn in your idiotic game. I refuse to contaminate myself with more Britannian filth just to soothe whatever is making you so scared. Fight your own battles, you bitch!

The crowd disagreed. Even as she raged internally, Kallen felt the invisible pressure mounting all around her. It started out quietly, a soft chant from somewhere off to her left. It quickly rose in volume as the crowd around her took up the cry. Kallen tried to drown it out, tried to force her jaw to unclench so she could curse them all into silence, tell Milly to fuck off and be the prize if she was so enamored with the idea… But the swelling chant stifled any protest she might've made.

"Of course," Milly added from the stage, Lelouch stoically silent next to her, "I would make voluntary participation worthwhile. Don't ever let it be said that an Ashford isn't good to their friends. Someone who assists in such a manner deserves a spot on the student council–"

And the guarantee to be used as a prize at all events to come? To join the President's collection of pet chew toys? Pass.

"–and a day in my family's library would not be amiss. Knowledge is power, after all!"

"Kal-len! Kal-len! Kal-len!" the room shouted eagerly, driven to a fever pitch by the promise of a second prize. Jealous and longing gazes swept over her, pinning her in place. To her horror, Kallen couldn't get her mouth to cooperate, couldn't scream out her objections. She was pinned against a wall again, and they were circling around her.

Please… No… Not… Not again…

"No," Kallen whispered, her jaw finally coming unstuck, but it was far too little, far too late.

The crowd pushed her forward and Kallen found herself staggering up the concrete steps of the massive bleachers, up onto the stage. She turned and saw the crowd ranged out in the gymnasium below her, like a multitude mobbing around an altar or a ravenstone, eager to see the chosen victim sacrificed in their ritual.

Milly, the high priestess of the rite, grabbed her and Lelouch's hands, lifting them into the air. Kallen couldn't muster any resistance, paralyzed by the sea of hungry eyes and gaping mouths spread out before her.

If she pushes me off, down into the crowd… The nonsensical thought blazed through Kallen's panicked mind, they'll tear me to pieces… They know I don't belong… They know!

"Whoever manages to earn the top spot in the simulators wins their choice of date between the most eligible boy and girl currently enrolled at the Academy, based on my network of informers!" Milly turned to her, cornflower-blue eyes dancing with sickening mirth over her smile, surprisingly ghoulish at less than a foot away. "Either Lelouch Lamperouge, or Kallen Stadtfeld, pick your poison!"

It took everything Kallen had, every scrap of self-control and every bit of discipline Tanya had hammered into her to not lash out, to not hook her hands into claws and rip the arrogant smirk off Milly's face, inch by bloody inch. It took even more of her strength to not look at the smiling students who surrounded her and see four equally amorous eyes leering out of long-dead faces.

Remember the mission. Anything for the Cause, Kallen told herself, her internal monologue unconsciously adapting her best friend's mannerisms as it held the rising strain at bay. You're not that same girl, scared and angry, trapped up against a wall. You're not just lashing out. You are a professional on a mission. Control yourself.

Remembering Tanya's long-ago advice, Kallen forced herself to focus on her breathing, ignoring everything else. She'd lasted among all the countless insults and indignancies of her position before, she wouldn't let this farce break her now.

I'm stronger than this, Kallen thought, pulling her resolve around herself like armor. I'm stronger than her.

So resolved, Kallen turned her attention away from the queued up students below her and turned her attention to her fellow victim in Milly's schemes. For his part, Lelouch seemed engrossed in a conversation with the President. Even though they were less than a meter away, Kallen couldn't hear their murmuring voices over the crowd's dull roar.

Well, at least he isn't looking at me like a piece of meat, Kallen noticed. In fact, he doesn't look at all happy, and I can guess why. Some idiot might call him a Prince Lelouch imposter in front of Pitt, and then we'll all have to attend another assembly where they'll wheel him to death for lese majeste.

Not that he was the only Lelouch attending Ashford. The three boys she knew by that name were discreetly trying to escape out the gymnasium's backdoor. Kallen noticed one of the boys exiting a simulator with an L as his first initial reflexively cringe away from Major Pitt before steeling himself to shake the officer's hand; another Lelouch, then.

Suddenly, the Lelouch up on the stage with her looked up from his conversation with Milly and caught her eye. It was all she could do to not flinch away from him just like the boy down below recoiling from Major Pitt. Thankfully, he quickly returned to his conversation with Milly, leaving Kallen now irritated with herself as well as with everybody else in the room.

It was strange, she thought as he descended from the stage to join the line, now much the enigmatic Vice-President still disturbed her. Kallen had no trouble remembering the unguarded look into his eyes last Christmas, when his mask had slipped, just for a moment. That he was some kind of crazy she had no doubt; what made his brand of crazy so frightening was how good he was at concealing it. Without that look, she'd have been like everyone else; convinced he was a lazy genius wasting his time and talent.

But it seemed like Lelouch had evaded everybody else's notice for another day. He descended from his simulator and, after trading a few amiable words and a handshake with Major Pitt, made his escape, disappearing into the crowd of spectators. Kallen checked the scoreboard; Lelouch Lamperouge had somehow achieved a perfectly average score, his time and number of kills the exact mean of the student body so far.

"Oh, look," Milly chirped beside her, finally relinquishing her hand. Kallen discreetly tried to wipe the memory of the other girl's hand off on her skirt, but the memory of the pressure remained. "Looks like it's your turn now, Kallen!" This time, the blonde's encouraging smile looked a bit less forced. Kallen didn't return it. "Make sure you put a good show on for me, okay? Perhaps you can even have a date with Lulu~"

By the time she had made her way down the stairs, Kallen had worked out her plan. Judging by the scoreboard, her fellow students were lasting just under five minutes on average and generally managed to destroy only one or two targets in the simulation. So, she'd do likewise. As soon as she destroyed her second target, she'd feign exhaustion and bailout, turning in an entirely unremarkable score.

I just need to think of this as another infiltration mission, Kallen told herself. All I need to do is hold it together, and I'll have a juicy report to hand in to Tanya and Big Bro. And then I can tape a picture of Milly to the punching bag back at the Manor and work some of my stress out on it!

"Alright, my lady," said the sergeant manning the small desk in front of the simulators, his rough, lower-class voice rumbling as he copied the information from her ID card into some form on his computer, "you're up next. Go ahead and get in number eleven. As soon as you sit down and grab the sticks, the simulation will start."

"Got it," Kallen replied, nodding to the soldier before making her way over to the vacant simulator pod.

Of course it would be number eleven! Kallen sneered and forced her apprehension at the bad omen down. Stick with the plan, Kozuki. Keep your hands steady and your mind focused. Just pretend you're Tanya; you'll get through this just fine.

Just remember the plan, Kallen, she told herself again as the seat began to roll forwards, retracting into the Simulator. I don't need to do much; it's not like the top scorer was that impressive.

Five kills is the best Ashford Academy can offer up? Kallen scoffed, trying to imagine Tanya's reaction to such a poor showing, So much for noble supremacy.

I'll just kill a Knightmare or two, run around for a few minutes, let myself die, and then pretend to be disappointed when I step out of the simulator. She nodded to herself, firming her resolve. I probably won't even need to take a dive or whatever – I've never been in a Knightmare before!

Kallen took a deep breath, trying to reassure herself as the box began to close behind her. Her breath came uncomfortably rough, catching in her throat as the lock clicked shut. The din of students faded, overtaken by the electric humming of the machine.

Remember what's at stake, Kallen. Anything for the Cause.

Then, Kallen was alone in the darkness of the simulator, with only the thought of the Cause to sustain her in the box she found herself trapped inside. Her breath hitched as the darkness pulsed, pressing on her unbearably.

The large screen in front of her suddenly flickered to life, the darkness fleeing as the seal of the Imperial Britannian Army Knightmare Corps seared into her retinas. As she blinked her suddenly tearing eyes, the loathsome seal disappeared, replaced by a message in dull blue flashing across a light gray background.

[Loading Simulation…]

Anything for the Cause.

Almost without thinking, her hands slid into the primary control interfaces as they rose to her from the sides of the pod. Various buttons and levers dotted the rest of the cockpit, their purpose lost on Kallen.

Blinding light filled her simulator, and her eyes squeezed shut on reflex. A moment later and a view spanning a hundred and eighty degrees of coverage sprang up before her, banishing the darkness under the harsh glare of its artificial light. She lowered her arms back to the controls, feeling vaguely ridiculous and even more on edge.

Looking around with her screens, Kallen found herself in a bare-bones urban environment, empty but for "her". Looking down, she saw a large rifle waiting, cradled in "her" four fingered purple hands.

Disturbingly, Kallen felt entirely at ease in the simulated Knightmare. It should've been a waking nightmare, sitting high above a city's streets in one of the machines that had gutted the Japanese defenses. Instead, Kallen found herself marveling at how quickly the simulated Frame responded to her motions, one hand flexing up at the mere twitch of her fingers.

With every action, every minute movement, the barrier between Kallen and the Knightmare seemed to fade further away. It was as if she was steadily becoming the Sutherland, and with it, finally being the instrument of Britannian dominion and imperialism her father had always intended her to be, despite all his circumlocutions and claims to the contrary.

You should be at ease sitting atop your knightly steed, a corner of Kallen's mind said. This was what you were born and bred for. This, just as much as the Barony of New Leicester, is your birthright. When you were a child, you could believe in fairy tales, like your Japanese identity. It's time to grow up, to put aside childish things, time to embrace your blood.

What a fine young Britannian flower you're becoming.

"No," Kallen growled under her breath as she took her first smooth step in the simulation, willing the treacherous little voice in her head to shut up. Walking in the simulation felt so natural and easy; quieting the voice that sounded so much like her stepmother was all but impossible.

No, this isn't me! Kallen yelled back in response to the intruding voice worming its way through her mind, I'm not Britannian, not where it counts! Kallen Stadtfeld doesn't exist! Only Kozuki Kallen is real!

She breathed out, forcing her jaw to unclench

That's right… That's right, I'm Kozuki Kallen. I'm Japanese. I'm just playing a role right now, she reassured herself. I just need to remember to stick to the plan and it'll all be fine.

[Adequate movement and coordination confirmed] A cool mechanical voice spoke in time with the words that suddenly flashed in the center of her screen.

Kallen yelped in surprise, before realizing she'd continued moving forwards in the simulation. Presumably her waffling around had satisfied some programmed threshold, confirming that she knew the basics of Knightmare operation.

[Skipping Introductory Tutorial]

[Advancing To Combat Scenario #4]

[Good Luck, Devicer]

Kallen blinked, and then–

–Crumbling highrise buildings boxed her in as the setting sun illuminated the narrow alleyway she found herself in. The ground was covered in filth – broken beer bottles, faded bloodstains – just another alleyway in another ghetto. A Knightmare rounded the corner ahead of her, an ugly froglike thing that Kallen recognized as a Gun-ru, the standard Chinese model. With a start, Kallen realized that it was charging right at her and–

–Up against a wall, a tiny knife is all that stands between her and the four men surrounding her. "I'm no damned Britannian!" Kallen cries, trying for anger and displaying naked desperation instead. "I'm Japanese! Kozuki Naoto's my big bro, so don't you mess with me!"

The rifle snapped up, simulated thunder barking a staccato beat as 30mm gauss rounds lashed out, the gigantic rifle kicking back against her shoulder.

The boxy mech, clumsy on its fragile third leg, reeled under the impacts, her shots drilling deep into its cheap, substandard simulated armor and tearing the Gun-ru's central hull apart in a withering barrage.

And then it was over. The echoing reports of her gunfire rang out across the empty imitation cityscape. The shredded hulk of her first kill teetered over and crashed to the ground, a surprisingly lifelike simulation of a lifeless hulk.

A moment of staring at the smoking Knightmare later, Kallen's mind finally caught up with her.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Kallen cursed as she tried to get her breathing back under control. Her knuckles were white with pressure as they squeezed down on her gauntlet-like controls, heart hammering in her chest as her adrenaline surged.

"Just calm down… Calm down, and stick to the fucking plan," she said, barely remembering to use Britannian in the likely recorded simulator, even as her mind fumbled for what that plan had been. "I just… I just need to-"

The building in front of her exploded.

She ducked, feeling something roar past her overhead, hurling herself behind the skimpy cover of a parked truck as-

The sound of the bombs thunder up from below her, making the pavement under her feet shake with the impact. The two men at the station's mouth are knocked halfway off their feet and they turn away from her, towards the staircase behind them. From the corner of her eyes she sees Tanya give the signal and suddenly she's running and-

She surged forward, scrambling from the truck and scanning for a better hiding spot or for her enemies as she tried to get a handle on her surroundings.

A distant part of her mind remembered her Knightmare's controls, which had seemed so complex yet intuitive at the time. She remembered one option in particular, and her fingers danced across the buttons she needed, effortlessly directing her steed even as she scrambled forwards.

Two smoke canisters nestled on the Sutherland's left pauldron popped, shrouding her form in a dense cloud of black smoke formulated to block infrared as well as visual detection. Now hidden from her unseen enemy, Kallen took a moment to pop her faceplate open to expose the factsphere and scanned the area with her sensory suite.

More shots slammed into the walls of the buildings around her, but with her smoke cloud reducing visibility, none got within two meters of her. The radar of the factsphere cut through the smoke, its report giving her a rough map of her surroundings. As expected, most of those surroundings were static and immobile, the simulated urban jungle and digitized vehicle window dressing reassuringly harmless.

The hazy silhouettes staggering through the gloom, on the other hand, were the furthest thing from safe. Even "seen" through a crude rendering on her instrument panel, they were obviously sweeping the area looking for her, looking for the enemy who had killed their squadmate.

She's back in the alley, the figures of the men looming over her. Lecherous grins shine on their faces as they grab her, pulling her knife away and pulling her down to the ground-

Kallen burst out of the smoke, her rifle up and spitting hate as she strafed hard around their flank, her landspinners kicking up a wave of sparks as she skidded across the cracked pavement.

The clunky Chinese mechs were too slow to respond, their scattered fire lagging far behind as her own rounds punched through their paltry armor.

She saw one of her shells rip through the central armor of an unlucky "frog", eviscerating the machine as it tore a hole between its "eyes", right through where the cockpit should have been-

-Where Tanya's bullet is supposed to hit the man but Tanya isn't there and Kallen is fighting alone. A shrill scream rips its way from the man's throat as her tiny three-inch blade finds his kidney, and gritting her teeth Kallen rips the blade sideways towards his spinal column, cursing as his lumbar muscles catch the dull blade and-

Kallen threw herself to the side as a burst of 20mm shells slashed overhead, quickly turning her headlong plunge into a mad dash by pivoting on the fingers of one hand, redirecting her momentum towards her assailants.

The Gun-Rus, lacking any melee weapons, frantically backpedaled but in the narrow road there was nowhere for them to go as Kallen stooped upon them.

The man screams as she runs at him, backpedaling frantically as he slashes the air with his knife, trying to keep her at bay. With a burst of speed, she is inside his guard, and with her free hand she first blocks his swing then forces his arm away. Before he can continue his retreat, she punches him in the nose with her knife-hand and feels the cartilage crumple under her knuckle. With a burbled scream the man falls to the ground, and she is upon him.

The nearest enemy tried to hold her at bay, both of its built-in machine guns and auto-cannons attempting to catch up with her speedy approach. The explosive shells lanced overhead and behind her, closer and closer as she neared but still far too slow to even threaten her.

Contemptuously, Kallen raised her rifle with one hand, a burst from the Knightmare-scaled coilgun silencing one of the Gun-ru's pauldron-mounted guns as her other hand, her real one, thumbed a switch on her console.

[Slash Harken Armed]

A solid Thump reverberated through the cockpit as a diamond-tipped blade slashed through the air at the end of a wire, burrowing deep into the hapless Gun-ru's leg.

Grinning, Kallen charged the trapped Knightmare, generations of conqueror ancestors howling for blood in her soul as her fingers clenched tightly inside her gauntlets, bearing down on the sticks that controlled her arms.

Steel shrieked as she met the crippled Chinese trash fist first, her iron hand ripping through layers of cheap armor and plunging into the beating heart of the dying Frame.

The man's open eyes stare up at Kallen from his ruined face, the tongue forced out from his crushed throat. They are close, close enough to be lovers, and Kallen can smell the stench of his rotting teeth as she looks into those eyes fixed on eternity and screams and screams and-

The remaining pair of Gun-rus rushed to aid their disemboweled friend, guns blazing as they desperately tried and failed to force her back. With her handhold on the guts of the other machine, Kallen heaved her hostage up from the pavement and threw her landspinners into gear, distantly hearing the sporadic thump of impact against her impromptu shield as she maneuvered backwards.

She returned fire from behind the relative safety of her improvised cover, rifle whining as she spat hypervelocity slugs at the last of the pathetic machines that dared to attack her, punching ugly holes in its fragile hide with impunity.

[Increasing Difficulty]

But there were more.

There were always more.

No matter how many of the endless waves of Gun-rus Kallen killed, more were always somehow waiting just around the corner. Autocannons and machine-guns pounded the streets all around her, the simulated city ripped asunder as a neverending tide of enemies harried her through the burning streets.

So she killed and killed and killed until-

[Ammunition Zero]

Click

Kallen's eyes flew wide at the flashing red symbol suddenly flaring to life in the corner of her screen, and she spat a mangled curse as she realized her assault rifle had run dry.

The last of her smoke popped from her shoulders, shrouding her in just enough darkness and haze to give her the cover she needed to fling her Sutherland into a hasty retreat down an alley.

Kallen paused there in the mouth of the alley, taking a moment to gasp for breath and to get her thoughts together, but her head was swimming in so much fear and adrenaline that it was difficult to stay still, even for a second. Her blood thundered in her ears, her heart pounded so hard it felt like it wanted to rip its way out of her chest, and her whole body was drenched in sweat.

"Fuck," she huffed, chest heaving with harsh breaths. "Fuck, fuck, fuck… I… I was supposed to…"

Scrambling through her memories, Kallen desperately tried to recall what her objective was, tried to claw together the scraps of the plan she'd started from into something workable, something beyond the next few seconds, but all she could find were twisted reminders of how she'd ended up here, in this alley.

The men smile at her and Kallen feels her skin crawl. "And I'll take one of your eyes, just for the taste," says the man with the knife as he saunters closer, his comrades pinning her arms behind her shoulders, "but I'll let you keep the other so you can see just what we're gonna do to your pretty little body…"

"Dammit!" She roared, punching the console and suddenly remembering that this was all a simulation, a game. She'd forgotten that; she'd forgotten that she wasn't back in the alley, not really…

I should stop, she thought, but it was hard to hear her own voice over her jangling nerves. I was supposed to stop. I can still… stop…

Blinking the sweat from her eyes, Kallen gazed critically down at her rifle and her shield. The Gun-ru was mangled scrap barely held together by ragged mechanical sinew and her rifle was totally spent. She discarded the now-useless tools with a sudden spike of disappointed anger, feeling ever more frustrated by her lack of options. She couldn't just fight with her hands! She wasn't Tanya!

But I was supposed to stop, she reminded herself. I… I can't remember the plan, but… but I was supposed to give up… Right?

Distant gunfire echoed in the ghostly city. All around her, gray and abandoned buildings bloomed to sudden life as explosions shredded them from within, inching nearer to her temporary sanctuary with each passing second. Every breath she wasted in deliberation saw the walls of flame and dust advance ever closer.

I've done enough, Kallen swallowed, her dry throat working to swallow the syrupy, choking saliva. I should just let myself die, right?

Really, that's all the Elevens are good for, left to their own devices: they run, they hide, and they die like the worthless dogs they are. They should thank us for taking them in hand!

Kallen's teeth clenched down, her jaw aching from the grinding pressure as her hands throttled the plastic sticks, her pride stoked to a boiling, bloody-minded froth. Dogs, were they? She'd show him… She'd show them all…

A tenement building next to her exploded, the roof slumping in with palpable exhaustion.

Her radar swarmed with signals, all clustered around her.

There are at least ten of them, and Naoto is standing alone between them and eleven year old Kallen. Her brother is always in fights, but this is different. Instead of the lone hoodlum or two or three hooligans picking a fight with the halfbreed or his helpless little sister, a whole gang of them are there, standing in a line across the road. Kallen chances a look behind her; a cul-de-sac. There is no escape that way. The only way out, is through.

Something in her snapped.

[Chaos Mine Armed]

Kallen flew out of the alley, dancing on her landspinners as she quickly fired and withdrew her slash harkens, spinning her in a twisting, erratic pattern through the throng of clumsy, malformed troglodytes waiting for her out in the street.

The army of Gun-rus surged around her, aiming their guns and grabbing for her with their manipulators and-

The sky exploded.

White hot fragments of near-molten shrapnel ripped through the compacted horde, scything through the first ranks in a scream of shearing metal as the always-volatile Sakuradite drives cooked off in a series of sympathetic detonations.

Her hands dipped down to the holsters at her hips as she hurled herself into the panicking throng of shit-eating cowards who thought they'd cornered her and-

[Strike Mace Armed]

Kallen lashed out, a club of super heavy, durable, metal slamming down on the neckless head of the first Gun-ru in her path, smashing the steel cranium that might as well have been eggshell with ease and pulping the pilot within-

The pipe, heavy and rusted, jolts against her hands as she brings it down again and again and again, sending shocks of impact into her arms until her fingers grow too numb and the pipe flies from them, disappearing into the gloom.

She laughed with the childlike joy of murder, smashing through the horde absent of any hint of finesse or grace, reveling in the brutality of the slaughter. She killed, and she killed, and she killed, and nothing satisfied her; every stick of fuel was only further kindling, sending the fires of heaven scorching through her soul as she killed again and again.

When her clubs snapped, the ultra-durable composite finding its limits, Kallen resorted to her fists. When her fists broke, useless dented steel joints hanging from cables like ripped tendons, she lashed out with her slash harkens. When her landspinners broke, she charged at the pitiful bastards who tried to retreat, hounding them down and dragging them to asphalt with her, where their awkward tripod legs and weak clawed manipulators had no hope of holding her at bay.

Kallen howled, she screamed, she even sung in a moment of lunacy, and through it all her soul rose in exultation.

Snarling, Kallen uses her teeth instead, biting and gouging and clawing and wondering where Naoto is, where her Big Brother is, and why he isn't here to help her when she is alone and there are so, so many…

And then, the darkness returned. For a moment, Kallen continued to jerk and pull at the control sticks, trying to find more enemies, trying to find fresh blood. Slowly, awareness flooded back in, and she let go of the sweat-slick controls, flinching away as if they had burnt her.

The whole cockpit stunk of sweat and copper, she realized, and her mouth tasted like blood. Her clothes stuck uncomfortably to her skin. Suddenly, Kallen felt exhausted, every muscle taxed and worn down to quivering jelly. She sucked down greedy breaths, trying to calm herself as tiny shuddering tremors racked her body. Something had gone wrong, but she couldn't remember what; all she could focus on was the need to inflict further violence coming from deep within.

As the door to Simulator Pod #11 opened, the lights of the gymnasium flooded into the tiny space, wrenching Kallen back into the present. Dimly, through the blood hammering in her ears, Kallen could hear the sounds of cheering and applause. To her faint horror, she could hear the same chant that had driven her up the steps of the stage mixed into those cheers.

"Kal-len! Kal-len! Kal-len!"

She frowned; before, the chant had been strident and demanding, a hungry flail of public opinion and pressure forcing her onwards. Now, as she unlatched the harness holding her in the simulator's throne, the tone was undeniably celebratory.

As Kallen staggered to her feet and down the stairs, the chant swelled in volume before collapsing into an incoherent shriek of celebration, so loud it almost battered her down to her feet. She blinked mutely at the horde of blurry faces through eyes teary from sweat.

Are… Are they all cheering for me? Kallen's thoughts came slowly and somehow felt distant as if she'd snuck into her big bro's secret stash of moonshine again. Why…? What'd I do?

Numbly, she looked up at the screen standing in front of the line of simulators as Major Pitt thumped her shoulder in congratulation. There on the screen were her initials, and next to them were…

Oh… So that's why they're cheering.

A wave of nausea struck Kallen like a fist and she swayed on her feet, her eyes glued to the screen. The average Ashford student had 'killed' between two to three enemies and had lasted five minutes. To her shock, Kallen found that somehow fifty minutes had passed while she was in that tiny sweat-stinking box and that she'd killed no fewer than thirty-seven enemies in that simulated hell.

Oh… Fuck. Fuck, fuck… Fuck. I… I fucked up. I fucked up bad.

She had succeeded beyond her wildest dreams. She had failed in every way that mattered.

Because every disaster, no matter how dire, can always take a turn for the worse, that was when Milly suddenly bloomed into existence, springing into Kallen's peripheral vision next to the unremarkable features of Major Pitt. Slowly, Kallen turned from the screen towards her mismatched tormentors.

Kallen frowned; Milly's lips were moving, but she couldn't hear what the harridan was saying. "Sagh-" she stopped, realizing that her mouth was full of blood seeping from her cut lip. Instinctively, she turned and spat the mouthful of blood onto the smooth polished boards of the Ashford Academy Gymnasium, idly wiping at her mouth with her arm as she turned back towards Milly.

Shit, Kallen thought vaguely, I smeared blood all over my blazer. That's gonna be a bitch to get out.

She blinked, realizing she'd said her last sentence out loud, before shrugging and continuing on. She was having a very difficult time caring about anything at all at the moment. "Sorry Milly, I didn't hear you. What was that you just said?"

"Oh! Umm," Milly tore herself away from the bloody smear on the floor, her eyes strangely wide to Kallen and her cheer even more obviously forced than before. Kallen idly wondered if the Academy's president had ever seen blood before. "Well, I just wanted to congratulate you on winning your date with Lulu! Aren't you happy? You've got a guaranteed dinner date locked in with the Academy's most eligible bachelor."

Kallen goggled at the other woman, trying to figure out what planet she'd dropped down from. She blinked, and the space behind her eyes was full of men and machines, all the same, and all trying to pull her down. She blinked again and Milly was still there, clearly waiting for an answer. Major Pitt lurked behind her, a man who was somehow just as gray as the uniform he wore in Kallen's eyes.

"Fuck the date," Kallen growled without thinking, "and fuck you too, Ashford. I'm fucking sick of you treating me like a goddamn puppet for your petty fucking games. I did this for me, so everyone else can fuck right off!"

For a timeless moment, all Kallen could feel was a twisting satisfaction as Milly stumbled back, one hand half raised as if she was trying to protect herself or perhaps to reach out to Kallen. Under her makeup, her face had gone bloodlessly white and her eyes were wide and hurt.

Then, someone muttered a surprised curse, and Kallen abruptly realized that the gymnasium had fallen completely silent and that every eye in attendance was fixed on her. Even the blind girl in the wheelchair she'd noticed earlier was oriented her way. Worst of all was the speculative gleam in Major Pitt's unremarkable brown eyes; he wasn't looking at anybody, least of all the Ashford heiress standing next to him. Instead, he was looking at her with undisguised interest.

Suddenly, it was all too much. Kallen turned on her heel and half stumbled, half ran out of the hauntingly silent gymnasium, away from the stricken Milly Ashford and away from the horribly intrigued eyes of the Britannian Major. She ran into the first bathroom she could find, slamming the stall door shut behind her and pulling her legs up into her chest as the stress of the afternoon finally overwhelmed her completely.

When Kallen's tremors finally released her and when she'd cleaned her face and fixed her makeup and hair, Major Pitt was leaning against the wall outside the door to the Ladies' Room, clearly waiting for her.

"I think," the recruiting officer began, "that it's time we had a talk about your future career in the Knightmare Corps, Lady Stadtfeld."

MAY 4, 2016 ATB
ASHFORD ACADEMY, TOKYO SETTLEMENT
1810

Come on… Pick up… Pick up, dammit!

Anxiously, Kallen checked her watch; it would be… four in the morning in New Leicester, or three in the morning in the imperial capital of Pendragon.

Come on… Wake up… Please wake up…

Finally, after a seemingly endless series of rings, the line picked up. Kallen's heart leapt into her throat, but she forced herself to continue breathing slowly and steadily.

I need to stay calm, she told herself. If I sound calm and deliberate, he'll take me seriously. He'll have to!

"Kallen…?" A groggy voice asked, and Kallen could almost imagine the man at the other end checking his bedside clock. "Are you alright…? It's… a bit early for a social call… Did you forget your time zones?"

"No!" Kallen snapped, before forcing herself to calm down and lower her voice, very aware that Major Pitt was, in all likelihood, still on the other side of the closed door at the end of the room. He'd been all but attached to her for the last two hours, badgering her about the many benefits of the ROTC program and how far she could go in the Knightmare Corps. He'd only grudgingly allowed her out of his sight to make her phone call.

I wonder if he thinks I'll try to escape out the window? I can't deny that the thought's crossed my mind…

"No," she repeated, "I… I know it's pretty early for a call… But…"

"But it couldn't wait," the voice sighed, its owner clearly resigned to the fact that further sleep wasn't in the cards. "Alright Kallen, I'll be right with you. Let this old man get some coffee on board, and then we can talk about the situation."

"Thanks," Kallen sighed into the phone, annoyed by how she already felt more at ease with the situation after talking with the man on the other end of the line. "Sorry to wake you up so early, Dad."

Ten minutes later, Alvin Stadtfeld, Baron of New Leicester and Head of House Stadtfeld, came back on the line.

"Alright, I'm feeling marginally awake now." The tired drawl hadn't quite left his voice, but Kallen could hear her father's typically amiable tones slowly reasserting themselves as the caffeine began to kick in. "So, Kallen, my beloved daughter: What's gone so wrong that you couldn't let these old bones sleep for another four hours, especially after months without a single text?"

"Umm… Yeah," Kallen shifted uneasily, put on the spot from across the Pacific Ocean by her father's easily envisioned gimlet eye. A moment later, she scowled as she realized what she was doing. I don't owe him a thing after he abandoned Naoto and me for years! "Well, about that… It's kind of a long story…"

"And yet, you, of all people, felt it necessary to wake me up at three in the morning. Normally, getting you to talk to me is like pulling teeth," her father rejoined, and Kallen could just hear the wry smile on his lips, "which means this is important, and you know it's important. So, come on, tell me. How can your father help you, Kallen?"

It would almost be easier if he was just open about being an asshole, she reflected. It's when he actually sounds like he cares, actually seems like he cares, that it's harder to deal with him.

In a moment of reflection, Kallen remembered how her best friend had never met her own father, and in fact didn't even know who her own father was because he had been a random Britannian bastard just looking for a quick fuck with a broken condom. Her gut twisted, and suddenly Kallen felt ashamed.

Tanya actually has an asshole father, Kallen reminded herself. I don't have any room to complain. At least Dad tried, kinda. I mean, Naoto likes him, so… Fine, fine. Dammit.

"Alright," Kallen began, cramming her baggage to the back of her mind; it could wait until after she no longer had to worry about Major Pitt forcing her into the Army. "So, for some reason, an Army recruiter came to my school today and kinda forced everyone to try out the Knightmare Simulator. And, umm… I apparently did good. Really good. And now he's trying to force me to join the ROTC program that he just started today here on campus."

"...So, let me get this straight," Alvin Stadtfeld sighed, taking a long sip of coffee before continuing. "Your school, a private school that does not take any imperial subsidies and offers no ROTC program, which I know because I checked before enrolling you there, has suddenly been arm-twisted into starting up an ROTC program and now you're being badgered by some puffed up Major who won't leave you alone?"

"Y-yeah," Kallen confirmed, blinking with surprise at how hard her father's voice had grown as he recontextualized her problem. "I mean, there's a bit more to it. I think this might've been the Viceroy's idea? The recruiter, Major Pitt, read a speech he claimed came straight from the Prince that mentioned Ashford by name. Also, Milly – that's the president's granddaughter – looked really scared when people started refusing to get in the simulator."

"Hmm…" Over the line, her father hummed thoughtfully to himself. "Alright, now… What are your thoughts on the matter, Kallen?"

"About what?" She asked, before wincing slightly at how loud she'd been, casting an anxious glance at the sealed door. "About what," she repeated more quietly, "the stupid assembly? Or joining the Army?"

"Both, I suppose," her father said idly, his mild tone not giving her any clues about his own thoughts. "But… you wouldn't have called me if the situation wasn't urgent, would you now? So, let me rephrase myself. Do you want to join ROTC and presumably the Army, Kallen? And do you want my thoughts on the matter?"

Kallen quickly mulled the matter over. Do I even care about his opinion? He's just another Britannian aristocrat, only out to protect and boost his own personal status; he sure as shit doesn't care about us. Otherwise… Otherwise, he would have stayed.

But as soon as the thought passed through Kallen's head, she remembered all of the times Naoto, her big bro, had stepped up for their father. "Dad cares. It's why he came back, Kallen. It's… it's also why he had to leave. To keep us safe."

She clenched her free hand into a fist. Why can't I just hate him? It would make things so much easier…

"Yeah, sure, I guess," she said out loud, trying not to sound too interested. "What do you think about all of this?"

"Well," Alvin replied dryly, "I seem to remember hearing that Area Eleven is still experiencing some rather unfortunate domestic troubles, correct? Troubles bad enough to wipe out entire units of Knightmares, which are typically in short supply in occupation garrisons. I also know that Prince Clovis has many rivals amongst his royal siblings who would love to assume the Viceregal-Governorship in his wake."

"Yes, yes, court politics are always going on," Kallen interrupted impatiently, "but how does that lead to some pig in a uniform showing up at my school?"

"Well, why does a farmer eat his seed corn?" her father asked rhetorically. "It sounds to me like someone in the Area Administration, maybe His Highness himself, is getting anxious about his supply of devicers on hand and is trying to increase that supply via aggressive recruitment. If this is true, it also indicates that His Highness or his advisors aren't expecting many new devicers from the Homeland. This priority is seemingly high enough to justify some level of coercion to force even high-caliber schools that aren't financially beholden to accept on-campus recruiters."

"...Huh. That's…" Really interesting, something Tanya needs to know, "fascinating, I guess. If the powers that be are really desperate for devicers, then it's a good time to join up, right?"

"Well, there are some undeniable benefits," Alvin mused, sipping at his coffee again. "I can't fully endorse you joining the service as my sole heir, especially since you don't have a child – or if you do, I'm going to have words with Nathan – but there are benefits. If you serve as a devicer, you would accrue a knighthood in your own right, as well as a barony once I'm gone. Serving in the Army is an excellent path to power, military as well as social and political. Even economic.

"It would," he continued, "also help burnish up your own loyal image, Kallen. If one day someone examines your documentation and finds a discrepancy, and if someone questions our claim that Alicia is your mother, an honorable service record will help ameliorate any stain on your reputation."

"That's… probably true," Kallen admitted. "And if I'm in the service, I don't need to worry about marriage offers, huh? Since I can just say I'm married to my Knightmare or some other garbage."

"You could certainly say that," her father chuckled, before yawning, "but honestly, that's something you don't need to worry about, Kallen. I'll be able to keep all of the old bats in the attic for the next decade at least, and even if I didn't, Nathan would run interference for you. Besides," he chuckled again, "I know you'd probably knife me if I ever tried to force you into a wedding dress, Kallie."

"S-shut up!" Kallen growled into the phone, trying to ignore the deep pang of emotions she didn't want to think about at the mention of her childhood nickname, of the name her father had called her by before he'd abandoned her and Naoto and their mother in a neighborhood full of bullies and bastards. "Don't fucking call me that, Dad!"

"Alright, as you wish," he sighed tiredly, "anyway, those are my thoughts about the Army. It could benefit you in a number of ways, great and small."

"And it would benefit our house too, wouldn't it?" Kallen asked, unable to resist the small dig. "After all, that's what's important, right? Anything to make sure that the Stadtfeld name is free from any blemish."

"If the heir had a reputation strengthened by honorable military service, that would benefit House Stadtfeld," Alvin acknowledged, not bothering to deny it. "But, that's neither here nor there. I'm only slightly less interested in trying to force you into a marriage than I am in trying to force you into a uniform. What do you think, Kallen? Do you want to join the Army after you finish school?"

"I don't know," Kallen replied half-truthfully. "I haven't really thought about what I want to do after I graduate. That's still two years away and all. I haven't thought about the Army at all."

It could have some advantages, she acknowledged. Knightmare training could come in handy, along with learning how the Britannians communicate and think… And I guess I could learn to shoot just as well in the Army as I could at The School… but fighting for the Empire, in their uniform? Ugh!

"But either way," Kallen rallied, summoning her anger back with ease, "I'm not interested in being harassed into signing up! It's going to be my choice!"

"...Alright," her father replied after a moment, "so, what do you want me to do about this recruiter, this…?"

"Major Pitt," she supplied.

"Thank you," he said. "Now, what would you like me to do about this Major Pitt, Kallen? If you want, I can… lean on him, so to speak. Pull some strings back home and take pressure off you.."

"I… I guess that would help," Kallen admitted, suddenly unsure of what exactly she did want. What the hell was I expecting when I called him? That he'd just wave a magic wand or something and this would all go away? "I don't really know what I should do…"

"Do what you think is best for yourself, Kallen," Alvin said, a sort of tiredness entering his voice that sounded much heavier than his previous sleepiness. "Just make sure you can still live in your own skin afterward. And come back home safe, for your mother's sake if not for mine."

"I'll…" Kallen swallowed; the mention of her mother even from her father's mouth bringing a painful lump into her throat, "I'll try."

Both Naoto and I are in a war against the most powerful empire on the planet, she thought. What happens to Mom if we both die? The Bitch will just throw her out, at the very least. Tanya would probably take her in… She stuck up for her that one time… But that's if Tanya's still alive…

"I suppose that's all I can ask," Alvin sighed. "Well, you've heard my thoughts, Kallen. Whatever your choice, I'll support you." After a pause, he continued. "I love you, Kallen. You know that, right?"

"T-thanks for the advice, Dad," Kallen replied, gulping slightly as she realized she meant it sincerely. "I'll… I'll let you know what I choose to do."

"Don't be a stranger."

With a tap, Kallen ended the call and collapsed into one of the luxurious couches scattered around this parlor.

I hope Milly hasn't done anything weird on this one, she thought idly, letting herself go boneless as she breathed out the emotional turbulence speaking with her father always stirred up. I'm so definitely not in the mood for any of that shit. Not now, probably not ever.

With a weary sigh, Kallen brought her phone up and dialed another contact, this one listed under a false name with the initials TH.

The recipient picked up the phone immediately.

"Kallen. What's the situation?"

Kallen almost gasped as Tanya's cold, clear voice cut through the haze of confusion filling her head.

"Tanya," she began, speaking in Britannian just in case Major Pitt truly was at the door, ear pressed to the wood, "there was a recruitment event at Ashford today, and I couldn't get out of it. They put me in a KMF simulator and I, uhh, kinda freaked out but I still did really good. Too good. They want me to join ROTC and the Army. What do I do?"

"Someone's close enough to hear you, I take it, but you think that your line is clear enough to reach out for advice," Tanya said, immediately grasping the situation. "I understand. Are there any signs that they know anything about your other background?"

"No, they haven't been making any threats or anything, not yet at least." Kallen took a calming breath, trying to slow her nervous tongue. "That said, the recruiter's been giving me the soft sell for the last two hours, and back during the event, Milly looked really nervous when he started to frown. I get the feeling that if I don't say yes, they're going to try to make me."

"I understand," Tanya repeated. "In that case… Go for it."

"Wait, what?" Kallen blurted, shocked by the conversation's sudden turn. "You… You want me to agree?"

"I do," Tanya said smoothly, her tone clipped and precise. "Listen to me carefully, Kallen. I know you are more of a warrior than a spy by inclination. Despite this, you have performed admirably so far. Good work always earns more work, though; so, I am tasking you with a new mission. You will become a soldier; moreover, you will be the best soldier you can be. You will learn all that you can from the Britannians. You will be as Britannian as possible. You will be Cadet Kallen Stadtfeld.

"And then one day, when the time comes, you will come home to us, to your brother and I. You will become Kozuki Kallen once again. And you will come back with the expertise of a Britannian devicer, brimming with knowledge about our enemy. This will be a difficult mission; I'm asking much from you. But your credo is Anything for the Cause, and I am certain, Kallen, that you'll live up to it. You've never failed anything I've asked you to do before now. Do you accept this mission, Kallen?"

She felt like she was standing on the edge of a cliff. She couldn't see the bottom. She desperately wanted to step back, to say that she wouldn't, couldn't do it, couldn't take the plunge.

But you know that you can, a treacherous, cruel voice said from inside her. Perhaps it was just her emotional strength failing her after a long, trying day, but Kallen couldn't help but listen to it. You know you can do it and nobody else can. Anything for the Cause. Duty is a mountain. There is nobody else who can pick up this mountain. This is your sacrifice. If you step back now, you have betrayed everything you've ever said about your duty, your dedication.

Your mistress has given you an order; a good soldier obeys her orders.

"Yes," Kallen said, her tongue like lead, "yes, I'll do it."

"Good." The clear voice was sharp-edged in its purity, free of any touch of regret or any second guesses. "Then you must cut off all contact with us. Give the Britannians no reason to suspect your loyalty. Delete my contact, and Ohgi's and Naoto's. If you must pass us a message, hand it to Rivalz and tell him to pass it on to Inoue.

"And…" Tanya's voice softened, "don't worry about your mother or your brother. I'll go to the Stadtfeld Mansion this very night with Naoto, and we'll bring her back with us. She won't be staying in Shinjuku; she'll be going someplace that's safe, far from the Britannians, far from your stepmother. I'll be sending Naoto out into the countryside too. You won't need to worry about them, Kallen, I promise."

"Will I need to worry about you?" The words were out of her mouth before she could think about them, but Kallen couldn't find it in herself to recall them. Was this really the last conversation she would have with her friend? Surely not.

"Anything for the Cause," Tanya replied. "If Naoto is going out of Shinjuku to assist Ohgi with our program outside of the Ghetto, someone needs to stay behind to maintain the chain of command. Just as you have your duty, so too do I have mine."

Of course that's what she would say. I don't know what else I expected.

"But," Tanya added, "I'll likely be busy with my leadership duties. I doubt I'll have much time for frontline work in the foreseeable future." For some reason, she sounded oddly wistful. "You don't need to worry about me, Kallen. Do your duty and I'll do mine; we will meet again."

"If you say so," Kallen replied. She chanced another look at the closed door; there were no signs of any eavesdroppers. Nevertheless, she dropped her voice down to a whisper and turned away from the door, tucking the phone up close to her mouth as she lowered her face into the pillows. Then, in Japanese, she bid her leader a farewell in the language of duty.

"Long live Japan."

MAY 6, 2016 ATB
ASHFORD ACADEMY, TOKYO SETTLEMENT
0900

For the second time in a week, Kallen found herself standing up on a stage in front of the Ashford student body. This time, instead of joining Milly and Lelouch on the commentator's perch overlooking the gymnasium, she stood front and center on the school theater's stage, a line of six of her fellow students behind her. And, instead of facing the student body directly as she had before, this time Kallen was only facing Major Pitt.

Look on the bright side, Kallen thought sarcastically, at least they aren't looking at you with the same disgusting eyes as before. That's probably just the uniform, though; hell, that's a silver lining right there – I don't have to wear something designed by Milly Ashford any longer.

In place of the Ashford Academy creme blazer and navy blue miniskirt, Kallen and the other six members of the inaugural cohort of the Ashford ROTC program wore their newly issued formal uniforms. The five boys had uniform slacks while Kallen and the one other girl wore knee-length skirts, all in the same uniform gray of their uniform jackets, unadorned save for their shiny leather belts and the yellow stripes proclaiming their status as trainees.

The change in uniform was a vanishingly thin silver lining, though. Considering what Kallen was about to do, what she was about to swear… She'd almost be happy to wear anything Milly so chose if it meant that the last three days could somehow be undone, that her leader's final order could be recalled.

Almost.

At a subtle nod from Major Pitt, Kallen's right arm snapped up to a right angle, hand over her heart and elbow straight up. Her left arm was at her side, her garrison cap cradled at hip height. Just as she'd rehearsed for the last hour.

Her last hour as a civilian, free from the confines of His Majesty's Armed Forces. While she'd still be attending classes at Ashford Academy and sleeping in her bedroom on weeknights, her weekends and holidays belonged to the Army now. As did the next ten years of her life.

Until I take them back, Kallen reminded herself. This is all a ruse, all a deception. Don't forget that, Kallen. You aren't Britannian. You will never be Britannian, not where it matters. All for the Cause, anything for the Cause. Even this.

"Do you," Major Pitt began, "Lady Kallen Stadtfeld, swear your allegiance to His Imperial Majesty and to his Empire?"

"I, Kallen Stadtfeld, swear by almighty God that I will be faithful and bear true allegiance to His Imperial Majesty Emperor Charles zi Britannia, and to his heirs, and to the Empire he rules." The words rolled off Kallen's tongue with a solemn gravitas heated by passionate ardor. They tasted like ashes.

"Do you," Major Pitt continued, "swear to defend his crown, his dignity, and his mandate against all his enemies?"

"I, Kallen Stadtfeld, swear by almighty God that I will, as in duty bound, zealously and faithfully defend His Imperial Majesty, his heirs, his crown and his dignity, and his mandate, against all his enemies." Kallen stared straight into Pitt's eyes, unable to blink or look away, trying her best to convey a fidelity with feet of clay to her new commanding officer, her new superior.

Never my leader. Never my lord. Never my master.

"Do you," Major Pitt asked, "swear to obey all orders of His Imperial Majesty, his heirs, and his generals and officers set over you?"

"I, Kallen Stadtfeld, swear by almighty God that I will obey any and all orders of His Imperial Majesty, his heirs, and his appointed generals and officers set over me, without objection or dissent. I pledge my life, my land, and my sacred honor to His Imperial Majesty, until such time as he sees fit to free me from this solemn bond."

As she publicly announced her loyalty with every intention of breaking her vows, Kallen extended her right arm up and out, until it was straight out in front of her, pointing above Pitt's head. Even though Britannian history claimed that they had driven Caesar and his legions from their shores, the Britannian Empire had still made the Roman Salute their own at some point.

"Then it is with pride that I, Major Phineas Pitt, accept your oath of loyalty on His Imperial Majesty's behalf," the officer intoned, raising his arm to mirror hers. "We shall exchange loyalty for fidelity, honor for honor, and blood for treachery. We name you Cadet Kallen Stadtfeld, and in recognition of your achievement and noble descent elevate you to Cadet Sergeant Kallen Stadtfeld. Long may you serve our Empire."

With that, and with the storm of applause from the audience, it was done. Kallen stepped back into line as the next cadet stepped forth to take the oath. There was no going back now. She had pledged herself to the service of the enemy.

She was a soldier of Britannia.

MAY 4, 2016 ATB
ASHFORD ACADEMY, TOKYO SETTLEMENT
1730

Lady Alicia Stadtfeld, née Maplethorpe, narrowed her eyes as she watched the vermin scuttle across the foyer below. The vermin, the Number, wore the same long black dress and white apron as the other female domestics, but to Lady Alicia's trained eye that single surface level commonality was as far as the civilizing touch of Britannia extended.

Though you know that the touch of one Britannian in particular went quite a bit deeper than a mere superficial touch…

With a sneer, Alicia pushed that errant thought to the back of her mind. She had a great deal of practice in that; she'd shoved many similar thoughts back into the darkness over the course of her four year long joke of a marriage.

When her brothers had informed Alicia that they had somehow found a second husband for her, she had been torn by overwhelming relief and gnawing suspicion. Relief that someone, anyone, finally wanted her, and suspicion over why, exactly, he wanted an empty, broken, useless vessel like herself.

Her condition was sadly no secret; her first husband, Justin, had made its existence all but public knowledge when he'd divorced her on the grounds that "their union was not blessed by God, as evident by its unfruitfulness." As a result, she had endured five long years of humiliation as a prematurely dried up old hag at the age of twenty three. Her life was functionally over before it had even begun.

Alicia had spent those years in utter misery. She was useless to her family, because how could they form a marriage alliance using her if she couldn't produce heirs to seal it? Nobody would take her. Nobody wanted her. Not even the commoner magnates her older brother Franklin had approached were interested in taking her, noble blood not outweighing an empty womb. The only thing that had made that long half-decade bearable had been the bottle she'd crawled into.

But then, Franklin had somehow found Baron Alvin of New Leicester, head of House Stadtfeld.

At forty-four when they'd met, Baron Alvin was sixteen years her senior. An unmarried man at that age holding title raised all sorts of questions, but Franklin and Alicia had both been desperate, and so neither asked anything remotely uncomfortable. If Baron Alvin had undignified tastes, they had reasoned, he had done a good enough job concealing them for there to be no whisper of scandal dogging his name.

Yes, you didn't ask a thing, you just praised God for his blessings, the snide voice murmured, returning from its exile. You didn't even bother to ask yourself why a baron without a recognized heir would marry a barren woman from a middling family. You didn't want to risk it all being a dream, did you?

She had not, Alicia could admit to herself. Looking back on it, she probably still would have committed to the marriage even if she had known what role her husband to be had in mind for her. She just would have appreciated some sort of warning. She wished he had bothered to ask. Instead, he'd whisked her off to Area Eleven, to the newly built Stadtfeld Manor.

It had been like her girlhood dreams. Marriage to an older lord, being swept away to a palatial estate in an exotic land, a whole team of servants bowing in unison to greet the new mistress of the house…

Yes, that had been the moment when things had started to go awry, when the servants had been introduced to her. Well, started to go awry in a way she couldn't ignore – Alicia hadn't pushed her new husband when he declined to consummate their marriage, after all, reasoning that it would have been unladylike, even if it had been a very long, very lonely five years.

I could have handled it! She thought furiously as she turned away from the insect dusting the windowsills and retreated to her suite and her liquor cabinet. I could have handled a loveless, sexless marriage! I wouldn't have cared if I had to beard for a sodomite! If he had the discretion to keep it out of my sight, I would have smiled and played the role I was born to! The role I was meant to play!

But no, Baron Alvin hadn't been kind or considerate enough to keep his disgraces out of her sight. Indeed, immediately after she'd been introduced to the servants as the mistress of the house, she'd been introduced to a snot-nosed little brat as her new mother. A brat that Alicia had never so much as heard of, a brat Baron Alvin had never mentioned to Franklin when negotiating the union.

From their first meeting, young Kallen had obviously hated Alicia and had displayed no hesitation in letting her feelings be known. The little bitch had shouted and screamed in both honest Britannian and in her heathen tongue, and to Alicia's astonishment Baron Alvin had replied likewise in both tongues, patiently doting on his rotten brat and allowing her to beat her fists against his shoulders as he wrapped her in an embrace.

And that was when he had offhandedly informed Alicia that she would be listed on Kallen's official documents as her birth mother. The Baron hadn't even looked at her when he'd said this; all of his attention had been focused on his sobbing daughter. He hadn't asked if she was willing to pretend to be the mangy little halfbreed's mother, he'd just informed her that her name had already been appended to the documents.

Never mind that the only way she could have had the girl was if she had cheated on Justin! Never mind that Baron Alvin hadn't even bothered to apologize for springing a bastard he'd whelped with a Number on her! No, she was expected to just stand there and take it and, presumably, to be thankful that the Baron had found a use for something as useless and unwanted as her.

And I could have handled that too! Alicia told herself as she poured four fingers of the tawny brown liquor into her glass without bothering with any ice. I never really wanted children, but I could have been a mother if… if that had been possible! But, no, even that wasn't enough for the great Baron Alvin!

The freshly married Alicia had, it turned out, already had the displeasure of meeting Baron Alvin's whore by that point, not that she'd known. Oh, she'd noticed the lone Asian face in the row of bowing maids, but she'd assumed that the woman, whose graceful bow had been significantly deeper and better practiced than the rest, had been of some Britannian commoner stock, some sailor's child perhaps. Instead, she'd been horrified when Alvin had introduced her to Hitomi.

Just the thought of the wretched woman's name made Alicia's hand spasm around her glass, and she tossed the remaining scotch back in her throat before she could spill the spirit. The burn it left behind helped take her mind off the memory of that first meeting somewhat. Just a bit.

They were obviously in love, Baron Alvin and Hitomi. It had been Alicia's honeymoon, technically, but he and that Elven bitch were all but cooing over each other. The most galling part was that it was the Eleven, Hitomi, who showed a hint of contrition. Only the Eleven, the servant, had apologized for the imposition to Alicia. Baron Alvin hadn't even bothered.

"I paid her for the service," the Baron had explained to his paramore, "or at least I paid her family. They have an alliance with House Stadtfeld and will be a preferred supplier for the family's business interests in Charleston, and I took an unweddable daughter off their hands. For the role she'll be playing, I paid quite handsomely."

The worst part was that Baron Alvin had been absolutely correct in his statement, which had been delivered matter-of-factly. He hadn't tried to be cruel, nor was the arrangement particularly strange, if Alicia was being honest. Many noble families had daughters or sons just appear out of thin air, their birth certificates suspiciously shiny and new, free of any stain of bastardry.

It just hadn't been what Alicia had anticipated, hoped for.

Days later, Baron Alvin had returned to the Homeland, leaving his wife, his secret Number mistress, and his daughter and newly announced heir in Area Eleven. Four years later, he hadn't returned, nor had he summoned her to his side. Hers was a comfortable exile, but an exile it was nonetheless.

Somehow, Alicia had found that she'd exchanged the loneliness of sitting in her brother's house, once her father's house, for the loneliness of sitting in her husband's house. Her bed was just as cold, her life just as empty. All through childhood, she'd been told that her purpose was to give her husband heirs and to raise them while he tended to his family's, or the empire's, affairs. Baron Alvin might very well be doing just that, but she had nothing, would never have anything.

The vermin had fulfilled Alicia's purpose better than the lady of the house ever could. Alicia had very carefully not noticed the Eleven with red hair and her husband's jaw visiting once every few months; her lord husband's instructions on that matter had been very clear on the matter. Alicia was only thankful that he hadn't forced her to pretend that his other bastard, almost as old as she was, had also been hers.

Lonely and abandoned, Alicia had taken her first lover within her first year at Stadtfeld Manor. It had been an act of rebellion, a cry of defiance that she'd perversely hoped that Baron Alvin, her only wedded lord, would hear and heed. She'd hoped he'd fly over the Pacific, come to call her out or divorce her or to make her his own in truth, his passion heated by the flames of jealousy.

He hadn't even asked her about it during their weekly call.

At first, Alicia had wondered if the man was blind, so blind he hadn't noticed her flagrant affair. She knew that he had eyes in the house, at least one pair, because she'd slept with Vernon, the majordomo, in the second year. One night when he was still asleep, she'd checked his archive of reports, and found her indiscretions in black and white. Baron Alvin had known; he just hadn't cared.

And so, she continued her affair with the head butler. The man was happy to serve a Britannian mistress, both in bed and out, and was quite happy with the tacit encouragement she provided in regards to the other servants' treatment of the vermin. After five years of solitude and months of indifference from Alvin, Vernon's devotion to his lady, to her, was intoxicating, almost as intoxicating as the fine scotch and brandy her generous allowance afforded her.

The next two years had continued along the same general trajectory. Alicia had charmed, used, and thrown away more men than she could easily remember, only keeping a few as long-term conquests. The pain of rejection had never fully faded, but the open arms and endless bottles of strong spirits had helped the wound scar over. In a strange, sometimes empty way, Alicia had finally found a measure of happiness, the queen over her little domain.

Now, the only flies in the ointment were "her" daughter and the bitch who had truly whelped the girl. Kallen had only grown worse with age, proving the old adage that blood will always out. She'd grown from a petulant child into a petulant teenager, privately disrespectful and defiant though thankfully subdued in public. What little time she spent at home these days, she spent locked in her room with… with that vermin.

The vermin herself, Kozuki Hitomi, was even more infuriating to Lady Alicia. While Kallen had the utter gall to remark on Alicia's diversions to her face, the quiet smile Hitomi wore as she went about her duties never failed to inspire fury. Up until recently, Alicia had been pleased to see that the whore of a maid's smile grew increasingly strained with each passing month, but even that simple pleasure had been denied her of late.

The scotch bottle tipped over the table and Alicia slurred a curse as it fell to the floor. Thankfully, it was already empty, leaving her fluffy white carpets unstained. A moment later, one of the servants – a good Britannian servant – slid in through her door, smoothly closing it behind him.

"My lady," the underbutler said, smoothly scooping up the fallen bottle as he bowed low, "I heard your cry. Can I assist you with anything?"

"Yes, go to the kitchen and fetch me another bottle," Lady Alicia ordered. "Oh!" She continued when he was halfway out the door, "has the mail arrived yet today? I'm expecting a letter from the Daughtrys this afternoon."

"I will ask the concierge, my lady," the servant assured her, bowing his way out, "and I will return immediately with another bottle of the Halifax '07."

"See that you do," she said dismissively with only the slightest of slurs, and reclined back in her chair. The door swung shut behind the man and Alicia was once again alone in her private lap of luxury.

After a moment, Alicia got to her feet and made her swaying way over to her secretary. It was an antique, just as exquisite as every other stick of furniture in her suite, but unlike most of the chaise lounges and loveseats scattered about, her desk bore the signs of actual use. The built-in shelves were home to a tidy row of ledgers, the household accounts for the last four years.

Those ledgers were just as much another insult in a list of insults from her lord husband as they were a private refuge.

It was, of course, a lady's place to handle the family accounts; everybody knew that while men were better at fighting, their overly emotional brains generally lacked the capacity to understand the more cerebral parts of life, such as math and physics. True, their emotional volatility inspired them to great works of art as well as war, as demonstrated by the Viceregal-Governor Prince Clovis, but science, logic, and mathematics were all inherently feminine pursuits.

And yet, when Alicia had arrived at Stadtfeld Manor, only the ledgers detailing the household accounts waited for her. Over the next four years, not a single page detailing the productivity of the Stadtfeld holdings nor the incomes of the Barony of New Leicester had arrived at the Manor. It was a clear sign that her lord husband didn't trust her to fulfill her wifely duties.

So, Alicia had buried herself in the household books. She wasn't a professional accountant by any measure, but she felt she could congratulate herself on a job well done for managing the house's expenses over the last few years.

Not that he'd ever appreciated it, she thought venomously. At least Vernon is quite appreciative of my abilities. Although, her lip curled contemptuously, he'd be willing to say anything for a few pounds. How very like the help; always willing to sell themselves for a few coins.

Then how much did Alvin spend to buy Hitomi's loyalty? The treacherous thought was like a murky bubble bursting in her consciousness. What coin did he use, and how much of it did he expend to secure her loyalty for years without meeting? Clearly whatever coin he used, he spent it all on her, and didn't save any for you.

A rap came from the door to the hallway.

"My lady?" Alicia blinked; that wasn't the voice of the underbutler she'd sent off for further refreshment. In fact, that was Vernon's voice, the majordomo himself and her lover of the last two and a half years. Unbidden, a smile spread across her pleasantly tingling face. "My lady, are you decent? There's a soldier here to see you. He has a letter for you, my lady."

All thoughts of afternoon fun shattered like spun glass at the announcement. Alicia blinked again, realizing that Vernon's tone had been quite sober – his public tone, with none of the… panache he deployed when they were alone and she had that outfit on.

Wait, she thought as the words finally registered, did he say a soldier is here? What would a soldier be doing here? Maybe… hope rose in her heart, maybe he's here to arrest that bitch Hitomi!

"Send him in, Vernon," Alicia replied as she sauntered back to the table and draped herself back over her chair. "Don't worry, I'm quite decent, I assure you."

Seconds later, a fine young man of obviously solid Britannian stock was saluting her with one hand, proffering a letter with the other. "Message for you, Lady Stadtfeld," the youngster announced, "courtesy of Major Pitt, of the Recruitment Command!"

"Major Pitt?" She repeated, turning the name over in her mouth. Her lips felt unaccountably dry, so she licked them, and then, noticing the effect on the young soldier, licked them again. "I don't believe I know of any Major Pitt, certainly not any recruiters… Vernon, dear? Do I know of any Pitts?"

"No, my lady," Vernon replied from his post by the door. "As far as your registry goes, you haven't exchanged any correspondence with anybody named Pitt, certainly not a major."

"Well then… Sergeant," Alicia hazarded, regarding the fine young man through heavily lidded eyes, "what does this Major Pitt have to say to me?"

"It's, ahh, it's private, my lady," the young man gulped nervously, and Alicia couldn't help but notice how lovely his chestnut hair looked under the soft light of her lamps.

"The message is, Sergeant?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. "What, you didn't want to take a look at my… private matters?"

"Ah, no, my lady," the soldier said with a delightful blush, "I mean, my rank is private. Private Jenkins. And, no, my lady, I did not look at your letter."

"How dutiful of you," she murmured, finally accepting the letter from the boy's hand, laughing internally at the slight tremor she felt as she accidentally ghosted her fingers over his. "Well, let's see what this Major Pitt has to say…"

The adhesive paper seal, a nod to the old fashioned wax seals now used only for formal or royal correspondence, tore easily beneath her nail. The letter itself was hand-written in a fine copperplate, the handwriting inked across a fine plush paper of the highest quality. Alicia again raised an eyebrow; whoever this Major Pitt was, he was truly pushing out all the stops, doing everything in his power to make an excellent first impression.

How long has it been since someone was quite this desperate to get on my good side? Alicia wondered to herself.

The buzz of pleasure from the gesture lasted almost until the end of the first line. The first minute wrinkles spread across Alicia's forehead as she read the rest of the opening paragraph and realized the letter was about Baron Alvin's hoyden of a daughter. By the time she was through the second paragraph, the roses left on her cheeks by the scotch had blossomed as angry red spread across her face.

By the time Alicia had finished the letter, she was furious, and the drink wasn't helping. She glared balefully at the young soldier, at Private Jenkins. To his credit, the boy didn't flee immediately; in a different time and mood, she would have found that delightful. Now, it only made her angrier.

"Get out," she demanded, barely holding her composure together, "get out and tell your Major," her lip curled like it was a pejorative, "to never contact me or send postage to this house again!"

"M-my lady," Private Jenkins tried to fit a word in edgeways even as Vernon tried to usher him out of the room, "I was instructed to wait for a reply…"

"Get out!" Alicia shrieked, her temper's fragile leash snapping at last as the drink brought out what her little brother had once jokingly named Dark Alicia after a night spent in her cups. "Get out, and don't you ever dare come back, you odious little man! And Vernon, if I don't see a bottle of Halifax in front of me in the next two minutes, I will peel the hide away from your fat backside! Go!"

Half an hour and two mellowing glasses of scotch later, Alicia smoothed the crumpled letter back out on the table and reread the second and final paragraphs. Their contents were just as inadvertently cruel as they had been on the initial read.

"That damned brat," Alicia muttered to herself, sipping at her third glass of ten year old scotch. "Kallen, Kallen, Kallen! Everything is *always* about Kallen! At least when it isn't about that woman!"

It was… so infuriating, to the point that Alicia was having trouble putting it to words even inside of her mind. Although that might be the scotch. But it was only in these moments, when she'd already put a bottle of Nova Scotia's finest behind her, that she could ever find those words in the first place. Those heretical words that went against everything she'd been taught she should want.

Alicia had been raised to be a wife and a mother. She had been educated enough to fulfill her wifely duties and to entertain guests for her husband. She had been steeped in the values of post-Emblem of Blood Britannia. She had done everything right, but all of that work had been slapped aside by an accident of birth that left her dead inside, in the one place it really counted for a woman of her rank and birth.

But she'd never had the chance to go beyond that set of expectations, even when motherhood had forever been barred to her, even when Justin had sent her back to her father's house in disgrace. She'd never had a chance to decide if she wanted to be a wife or, indeed, a mother; it had simply been put on her shoulders, just like how Baron Alvin had never asked her if she would be Kallen's stepmother and the aristocratic cover for his halfbreed heir.

Alicia had never been asked for anything, because Alicia's opinion had never mattered. Not once in her thirty two years had she ever truly had a grain of independence. Even her flings with soldiers, with gardeners, with deliverymen, with Vernon had a taste of the expected, of the typical behavior of a neglected noble wife. Her minor rebellions had been just as pre-planned as every other part of her life, it seemed.

She hated Hitomi Kozuki, and she hated Kallen Stadtfeld. Partially, it was because they represented the life that she should have had, could have had if God hadn't blighted her body for some strange reason. Partially, it was because he so obviously cared about them, showering them with love in the letters she'd intercepted, a love that he'd never offered to her. Mostly, it was because both Hitomi and Kallen had tasted, at one point or another, independence.

The letters had made references to a different Hitomi, one from before the Conquest. A professional businesswoman and executive who had met Baron Alvin when he'd still been Alvin Stadtfeld, the unwed second son unlikely to inherit from his elder married brother. They had met when Alvin had come to negotiate some deal for the Imperial Fruit Company, his employer at the time, and the two had apparently met as equals.

All of that had come to a well-deserved end in the fires of the Conquest, thankfully, but for a time Hitomi had been free to make her own decisions, to live her own life, and Alicia would never forgive her for it.

Now, her dirty tomboy of a daughter was walking down a similar path. Keeping Kallen in the Manor and paying attention to her etiquette and mathematics tutors had never been easy; she'd always tried to run away, to escape from the Manor. Alicia knew she'd always tried to run away to the ghettos where her kind truly belonged. Alicia would have encouraged it if she didn't know that her comfortable life depended, in part, on Kallen Stadtfeld.

"Let her," Alicia said, finally breaking her silence even if there wasn't anybody else present to hear. "If she wants to spread her wings? Risk her neck? Let her. Not like I can stop her anyway… Not if her father already gave her permission…"

It was only seven and dusk had yet to even touch the spring sky, but Alicia already felt done with the day. She just wanted to sleep, to just put an end to the day and all thoughts of young girls going off to become heroes of the empire.

At least I'm not going to have any dreams tonight, she thought as she pulled on her nightgown. Not after a bottle and a half of scotch. Small mercies…

"M-my lady," Vernon's diffident voice came from the door, accompanied by a light rap. "My lady, are… Are you decent?"

"Nothing you haven't seen before," Alicia replied, just as done with formalities as she was with the rest of the day. Besides, it was only the truth, at least as long as Vernon was alone. "Come in, Vernon. What's the matter?"

"Well, my lady," Alicia grimaced in response to Vernon's pained expression as he came through the door, closing it behind him, "I've got some news that I'm not quite sure whether to call good or bad."

"Out with it, Vernon," Alicia waved impatiently. "I'm too… too tired to be patient. What's wrong?"

"My lady," the majordomo began, smoothing his mustache, "it's Hitomi. She's… She's left."

"What?" Alicia frowned at her servant, trying to make sense of his words. "My husband's whore ran away? Why? Err… Why now?"

"I haven't the haziest, my lady," Vernon said apologetically. "Marcus, the inside dogsbody, noticed her carrying a heavy bag out the door and ran to tell me. I followed her out to the street, but just as I approached her an unmarked truck of the sort used for grocery deliveries pulled up and she climbed inside. It pulled away and the driver ignored my signs to stop completely!"

"Oh…" Alicia tried to turn the thought over in her head, trying to figure out how this fit into the puzzle of the day. She found that she couldn't, and that she didn't care to try. "Well, she left of her own will, clearly. So, she's not my problem anymore. I didn't beat her away nor fire her, so my husband will have nothing to complain about, I suppose."

She smiled. "If she ran away to die in a gutter with the rest of her kind, who am I to stand in the way of Baron Alvin's chosen woman?"

"Quite so, my lady," Vernon replied with a chuckle. "Should I go ahead and order her room be cleaned out? I doubt we'll be seeing her back again, and if she does return…"

"If she does return, she won't find a job," Alicia snapped peevishly, and smiled again at Vernon. "Yes, clean the room out. Have it fumigated as well; no telling what vermin the vermin might have left behind, after all."

"As you wish, my lady," Vernon bowed and left the room. As the door closed behind him, Alicia could hear him yelling orders at some servant or another.

And then, Alicia was once again left alone. Strangely enough, she didn't feel any happier, now that her least favorite servant had exited Stadtfeld Manor. Hitomi would never darken her door again, and for that Alicia was thankful, but…

But Alvin still won't love you, Kallen still won't be the daughter you never had, especially with her running off to be a Knight, and Vernon will do anything for a few pounds, her treacherous distillate-soaked mind supplied. You are alone, just as alone as ever, and just as alone as you will ever be. Now you've even lost your whipping girl. Can't even keep a reliable victim around.

Her bed looked so inviting, so comfortable, but when Alicia crawled between the sheets they were just as cold and lonely as the rest of her luxurious suite. Just as empty as her womb. Just as abandoned as Alicia was, stuck here in a savage land far from her only wedded lord, who wanted nothing to do with her.

Just another day in the life of Lady Alicia Stadtfeld.