Was she Kallen Stadtfeld or Kallen Kozuki in this moment?
"Lady Kallen, you have eight minutes remaining before the exercise begins. Please prepare yourself accordingly."
"Got it." Well, that guy would probably only want to hear one of those names. And if she had to guess, he wouldn't know how to pronounce the other.
As she sat in the cockpit of a simulator for the third time today, she had found herself considering the question. A question she hadn't had to think about once in her life. When she was young, she was Kallen Stadtfeld. Just a child who didn't really understand what the significance was of her being a half-blood Britannian living in Japan with a Japanese mother and a brother much more visibly Japanese than she was. She hadn't understood any of it. And then one day... Her Dad made a lot of angry phone calls. And then there were a lot of explosions in the distance. Soon after that... Everything went quiet again. Her childish mind had believed the assurances of her mother, that everything would be fine.
Of course, it wasn't. Because her mother was Japanese. Her brother looked Japanese. And so... They could no longer be her family. They had become Elevens. Citizens of a conquered nation, now a colony of the Holy Britannian Empire.
The anger in her father's voice before it all began, before her life fell apart. He hadn't known what was coming either. But until very recently, that didn't matter to her. He was still the man who had willingly torn her family in two. Thrown away her mother and Naoto. Cast them aside, glad to at least have one child who could pass as a real Britannian. It was so much easier to believe that when the chips were down, he was as heartless as any other Britannian.
Even so, she couldn't get Lelouch's words out of her head. Just some of his cast-off thoughts as he put together the pieces. He hadn't been trying to convince her of anything, he had far more important things to worry about at the time than her messed up family. Like the knife to his throat or that his identity had been revealed. And so those cast-off thoughts, they lingered in her mind. A perspective on her father's actions from the outside. She still wanted to toss them aside. So he made her his heir, so what? She didn't want it anyway! Not from a Britannian!
But she couldn't. He made her his heir, made sacrifices to do it. It would have been so much easier. If he were the heartless Britannian she desperately wanted to believe he was, he wouldn't have bothered. He could've just tossed her aside just like Naoto. It would've been easier to explain, easier to cover up his first marriage. He could've had a new heir with the bitch. And if it ever got out, well, he could just consider it a funny anecdote, the time he treated a filthy Eleven like a real person for a while. But he didn't do that. He kicked Naoto out of the house. He let his Eleven wife stay in the house as a lowly maid. They were Elevens. Anyone could see that just by looking at them.
Kallen... Was the only one he could save.
Her grip tightened on the controls. He thought he was saving her. Thought he was giving her everything she could ask for, an easy life of wealth and privilege. When all she wanted was to have her family back. All she wanted was to have Naoto back.
"One minute, Lady Kallen."
She wiped at her eyes before moisture could even begin to gather there. "I'm ready. What am I doing this time?"
"Parameters are, hostile forces moved into the area and have set up a defensive line to keep you busy while their main forces prepare a more robust defensive action. Break through the line or destroy it utterly and catch the main enemy force off-guard."
That was a lot more complicated than the previous two simulations. The first had been a repeat of the one she had done at Ashford. Old-fashioned ground and air forces to demolish without worry. The second a more elaborate race through urban terrain while avoiding enemy fire. It seemed they were giving her genuine tactical simulations now.
"Fail state?"
"Destruction of your knightmare frame."
Right. They weren't actively doing anything. Just defending against an attacker. Her.
"Simulation live in five, four, three, two..."
The 'factspheres' came alive, showing her the launch hangar of an air transport, a familiar starting point from her previous simulation that conveniently pointed her in the right direction from the get-go.
The city. Were they expecting to fight in the city? Was that why the simulations always focused on city environments? Or was that just the standard for these things? Or was it just an easier and more predictable environment for rookie pilots to start training on? These useless questions rattled in her head as her landspinners blazed, her simulated machine moving at full speed.
A second later, she decided that was a poor idea. This scenario was about facing down a defensive line. Rushing into such a thing head-on seemed like a bad idea. With a twisting movement of her knightmare, a slash harken speared out, catching on a solid overhang. Another fired at a nearby high-rise building and a retraction of the cables dragged her up and over one building in an aerial arc. The first detached and returned, fired again to swing her machine around the side of the high-rise and give herself a view of the area ahead of her from above in the second or so before her machine dropped, performing a front-flip on the way down and landing in a kneel.
The obstacle course had given her the chance to try a lot of neat manoeuvres like that.
"Knightmares." The glimpse she got was enough. Four knightmares in defensive positions protecting a bridge. They hadn't said what the enemy force consisted of but she knew well enough that this was a step up from the first before it started. It was time to face a real threat. "Okay." Four knightmares was a lot to ask of a rookie pilot, but this was a simulation. They were AI. They had the armament to be a threat but not the intellect. Not the instinct. They couldn't get creative like she could.
She came down on the simulated machines like the fury of the gods. An air conditioner unit torn off a wall thrown at the far machine while she dropped on the nearest. Dropping at one end of the line so the others would need to move first before being able to even take a shot. Giving her a few extra instants to deal with the nearest foe. She didn't even free her assault rifle as she dropped. The machine fired a burst from its own but too slow to track her movements. Her machine lunged, staying low as she attacked, landspinners twisting to force her into a low spin that took out the legs of the dumb machine. Only then did she pull her rifle free, firing a burst at the next in line while launching a slash harken into the back of the one she felled, dragging it up to use as a knightmare shield as she sped forward.
The machine pinned to hers slowed her down but not enough to let the other three take advantage. The one she had was still an active combatant so the others wouldn't fire on it. Thus wouldn't fire on her. Meanwhile she moved into their midst with her weapon firing in short bursts, aiming for disabling shots. A lucky shot aimed at centre mass could potentially disable a knightmare but it was smarter to aim for the more sensitive joints. Disable limbs and the machines were much easier pickings. Another slash harken fired at the armour of one knightmare as another finally raised its rifle. Retracting the cable, Kallen and the enemy machine were brought closer together. With Kallen's extra weight, the enemy machine was moved faster, bringing it between her and the third's rifle right as it fired.
Cockpit hit. Auto eject. Two left and one was already limping on a sparking and jerking leg motor. Disconnecting from her shield she kicked it away, shot it in the back to force eject the pilot and left it to hit the lone fully functional machine as she dealt with the limping one. That swiftly taken care of she returned to a one-on-one fight with the final machine. A battle so conclusive it didn't even bear mentioning.
Two intact machines save for their missing cockpits. One with a damaged leg. One with a broken arm. All of them completely incapacitated.
Then the bridge they were guarding blew up. A sensible tactic if they failed. Meaningless for a knightmare. Once again Kallen launched her slash harkens to use them as grapples and cross the bridge as it collapsed. The upper structure the last to collapse as she used it as traversal, swinging from strut to strut until she was on the other side, not even bothering to watch the last of it fall into the river.
The force on the other side of the bridge also of course contained a few knightmares. But as promised, with the swift bypassing of the defensive line, they were sitting ducks. Some of them not even piloted yet. What little resistance they could put up was crushed by defeating all of their armaments capable of taking on a knightmare, forcing the remaining forces to surrender.
Kallen couldn't keep the grin off her face if she wanted to. Just like the obstacle course, that was fun. It felt almost like she was born to be in the cockpit of a knightmare.
Not that she had been in one yet. Technically.
The simulator opened and she stepped out on slightly unsteady feet, finally realising the sweat she had worked up in there. Trapped in a confined space, stressed and constantly getting tossed around. It was a surprising workout.
"Would you like a towel, Lady Kallen?"
Ugh, that title again. But even so, "That'd be great, thanks." She took the proffered fabric from small hands and used it to wipe her face, hair and neck. Only as she was ruffling her hair with it did she think to look at the girl who had given it to her.
Her mind stuttered to a stop. The red eyes of the Knight of Six stared back at her. Shit! "Lady Alstreim!" Wait, that was wrong! "Sir Alstreim! Or Lady Anya? Err, thank you for the consideration!" Small as she might have been, this girl could have her dead in seconds with a word!
"Sir Alstreim is what I prefer," the girl who commanded thousands answered with bored disinterest. "Your display was quite impressive for a novice. With some unconventional tactics."
"Thank you... for your kind words," she remembered to add a split second too late. "I just did what came naturally, what seemed best at the time."
"Naturally?"
"Yeah, err, yes," the redhead corrected herself. "It all... Seemed like the thing to do, so I did it."
"I see." The small knight looked left, then right, then up. "Lord Gottwald," she called up, pitching her voice to carry but still with that same disinterest.
"Ah, yes, Sir Alstreim, what can Iā?"
"I want this one training on one of the Gloucesters I brought over. See it done."
The teal-haired lord blinked, but quickly bowed low. "As you command, Sir Alstreim."
"Hm."
With that little considering grunt, the girl turned and walked away, leaving Kallen bemused more than anything. She had just met one of the most powerful and dangerous people in the world. A girl who would probably have her killed if Kallen looked at her wrong. And it seemed like... She had her approval? At least a little bit. Strange. Lelouch had said her piloting skills were abnormally good but she had apparently underestimated just how good.
Ugh, and that was a whole other thing she was still stuck wondering about. Here she was, getting the attention of some very powerful people. She still chose to see it as infiltrating, getting information on the movements of the Britannians. But the question remained, the question she had yet to answer for herself. Who was she doing this for? Was it for Lelouch? Or Ohgi? Both had wanted her to do this.
She had looked up the history of the supposedly no longer dead prince. He certainly looked the part. Same hair, same eyes, less baby fat. More, after engaging in some... Ugh, gossip, she had found he did have a sister named Nunnally. A sister he took care of because she was blind and paraplegic. That cover story he came up with proved useful to her after all, even if it only helped to prove he was more than likely the real deal. He genuinely was a prince of the empire. Long thought killed during the conquest of Japan. He had been here when the bombs dropped. He and his sister. And to hear him tell it, not in a nice safe estate away from the fighting. They had been political hostages to prove amicable intentions. And when Britannia attacked anyway...
They were sent here to die. And suddenly with that realisation, Kallen had believed Lelouch's motives wholeheartedly. He wanted vengeance against those who had done them harm. She, all of the Japanese resistance had that in common with him. But there was no vengeance to be had. The Emperor, the man who gave the order for all of it, he was dead. The head had been cut off the serpent. All that remained were the death throes of a creature that didn't know it was dead yet. All that could happen would be the remains of that corpse getting consumed by another. Fuel for the growth of something new.
Did she want that to be Lelouch's idea of a reborn empire? Did she trust that was what he truly wanted? She didn't know.
"Lady Kallen!" the same teal-haired lord called out to her as he approached with formal stiffness. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, I am Margrave Jeremiah Gottwald." She held her patience as he took and raised her hand. She swore, the next person to kiss her hand she was going to break every single one of their fingers! "You must have been quite impressive indeed to have caught the eye of the Knight of Six before even receiving your own knighthood! Please, allow me to escort you to the hangar so you might familiarise yourself with a Gloucester. I imagine it will be your personal machine before too long!"
She nodded. "Thank you, Lord Gottwald." He nodded in return and began leading her away from the training area into the hangars.
There would be no immediate answers for her questions and no one could give them to her. The best she could do was put them aside and focus on what she wanted to do. Regardless of her trust for Lelouch's motives, he had said something she fully agreed with. She had an opportunity few other Japanese did, walking freely through a place like this. It was best for her to take full advantage of it.
-(-)-
Clovis la Britannia. Third prince of the Holy Britannian Empire. Viceroy of Area Eleven. Custodian of the largest and most plentiful sakuradite mining operation on the entire planet. And potentially? Kingmaker. The power to sway the Britannian civil war rested in his hands more than almost any other save for the frontrunners of that conflict. With a single edict he could change the entire course of the war. Against all odds he had become one of the most decisive figures in a worldwide conflict. He had power. Unquestionable, undeniable power.
And yet over the past few weeks he had come to feel oh so powerless. The power to change the world was useless in the hands of a man ill-prepared to make such decisions. In the hands of a man one of his late siblings would call incapable of thinking several steps ahead as a ruler should. Power over the fate of nations wielded by one unprepared for it, it wasn't truly power. It was potential. Potential he couldn't actualise, and so lived in fear of those who believed they could wield it better than he.
And so... With such fears clawing at his heart in his restless slumber, Clovis la Britannia found unexpected comfort in the aid of someone better suited than he in these games of power. Well, perhaps comfort was the wrong word. Or rather it was certainly the wrong word.
Eleven. A number as a name for a man who claimed not to be a number. A faceless voice dripping with condescension for Clovis' most trusted aide. But much to Bartley's dissatisfaction the interloper had proven his superior attitude to be very much earned. That very introduction had introduced the Viceroy to problems he had no idea existed, and yet bringing them to his attention had allowed him to not only solve it, but somehow had a knock-on effect. Dealing with the four noble families conspiring against him also miraculously resolved the export shipping difficulties they had been having. A headache Clovis had known about but not understood the full scope of at the time. A failure to export the precious sakuradite to the other powers would increase their dissatisfaction with his rule, expediting plans by those powers to oust him. And wouldn't you know it, those families would happily offer their support to the new ruler, whomever they would choose for that role. The nobles had been attempting to play kingmaker themselves.
All of it undone in one fell swoop. It was like Clovis witnessed his very own miracle.
'Excellently done, your highness,' Eleven had offered at the time, the praise as false as his own moniker and they both knew it. Without the mysterious figure's help, Clovis would have been staring down the wrath of his half-siblings. From that one single action, Clovis knew he had no chance on his own. The difficulties of peace were so unlike the difficulties of war. He needed help.
He could practically hear Schneizel's voice in his ear. That allies can be far more dangerous than enemies. It was of course true. Clovis wasn't fool enough to doubt his elder brother's wisdom on these matters. Schneizel had always burned the brightest among them. But that was rather the problem. When faced with blazing infernos all around, it was foolish to fear that the man bailing water beside you might also hold a knife.
Ugh, his metaphors were getting away from him. This was what stress could do to a man in his position. But the truth of it remained. If he would fall either way, what was the difference? And he knew that was a likely outcome. None of the imperial children were ignorant of their history. Some like Guinevere seemed to be using the Emblem of Blood as a guidebook, or perhaps that was Carine's influence. Or maybe even just... What happened to children raised by political cut-throats. Did it happen to him also, and he simply didn't realise it, being so far removed from the centre of it? A disquieting thought. But one he would happily and eagerly discard for the other disquieting thoughts that troubled him.
"And what troubles you tonight, your highness?" the mysterious Eleven asked.
It had been weeks since that first contact. Weeks in which Clovis had found himself calling on the stranger multiple times. Seeking information. Seeking advice. Guidance. And now here he was again, begging for help so he might keep his position and his head for just a while longer. "You have proven useful enough that I thought I might pick your brain on the subject of the various contenders for the imperial throne." Even if his pride had been sundered to ruin, he couldn't admit as much. Not to his own staff. Certainly not to Eleven.
"The wider world is indeed a worry is it not, Prince Clovis? Do you wish for my more general thoughts on your extended family members? Or perhaps you had a more specific query in mind."
"Merely your opinion on who it might be most beneficial to support in their bid for the throne. I have my own thoughts of course, but a wise man is one who seeks other opinions." He tried to keep himself calm, tried to maintain his appearance as an unruffled leader seeking good advice. But while he phrased it as a potential future concern it was for once far more immediate than that. He held power and influence because of the sakuradite supply, but his position was weak enough that some felt entitled to be demanding of the resource. He had already ceased supplying the Chinese Federation, of course. That peacekeeping measure was wasted when they would inevitably attack regardless. But for his siblings, whether the excuse was to protect the realm from outside invaders or they claimed they deserved it as the best claimant for the throne and should therefore be facilitated by their lessers, the demands were increasing.
And... Perhaps most worrying of all... Cornelia had made no requests whatsoever. The silence from her was nothing but ominous.
"I see," the voice answered in a pondering tone, sounding very much like he truly did. Like he saw through Clovis' true concerns just that easily. "If I were to present my own opinion in terms of the best path forward in the medium term, I would say continue as normal. Show no favouritism whatsoever. The same method as how we sold to enemies and allies alike. After all, you've been given no guarantees that supporting anyone would work in your favour have you?" The question was asked, but clearly needed no answer. "Your siblings have little experience with anything but forceful diplomacy. While they might raise a fuss at not getting preferential treatment, if they're smart they'll remember engaging hostilities with you will rob them of resupply. Easy pickings for anyone else at that point. At least for most."
"Only most, though," Clovis agreed, still feeling like Cornelia might appear out of the shadows at any moment. He maintained his facade of calm as he took a steadying sip of brandy.
"Only most. But Cornelia is set on her path. If it's war then it's war. The Witch of Britannia is not one to be dissuaded. A temporary alliance shouldn't be out of the question, at least until the Chinese are driven off. And her being a strategist, she would likely agree to such a proposal if the alternative was a war on two fronts and potentially losing Area Eleven for the empire. If she is willing to come to terms, that is undeniably the better option."
"Perhaps you're less informed regarding Cornelia than I hoped," the prince sighed. "Her reputation as a goddess of victory is well earned. Facing both myself and the Chinese, I'd still place my wager on her."
"Perhaps," Eleven allowed. "Though while she might have earned that reputation, she didn't earn it through recklessness." There was a significant pause. "Then again, many of her victories were against polities whose knightmare production was still in development. Even the Chinese Federation is a different beast now to when she last faced them. Still, she is at the very least a seasoned commander. How she would fare against forces that are a peer to hers remains to be seen, but she would be better as an ally than an enemy."
"And Schneizel?"
"Schneizel el Britannia does not need you as an ally or an enemy," the worryingly well-informed advisor answered bluntly. "Given enough time, he will secure the allegiance of the entirety of the homeland and the American areas. At that point he will effectively be Emperor no matter what anyone has to say about it. So long as you continue to supply sakuradite to the homeland, he won't care overmuch so long as Area Eleven remains in Britannian hands."
That certainly sounded like Schneizel. The second prince already held significant sway as prime minister. If Cornelia was the centre of military power, Schneizel was the centre of diplomatic power. If Clovis had to predict how things would go, his elder brother would gradually spread his influence, perhaps fend off attacks to the Americas by having the Knights of the Round do their jobs, then take credit for it. Sometimes Clovis wondered why their other siblings even bothered trying when the competition was so clearly overwhelming.
What a thing it was that he found himself envious of Lelouch and Nunnally that they never had to live through times such as these.
"āCourse it should stay in Area Eleven."
The viceroy blinked, then inwardly cursed at himself for losing focus on a conversation like a rank amateur. Something should stay in Area Eleven. "I, can't argue against the merits of keeping valuable resources close at hand."
"Valuable would be understating them. Camelot represent one of the foremost knightmare development programs in Britannia and therefore the world. Losing them would be sacrificing one of the truly unique military assets Area Eleven has."
Camelot? He was concerned about keeping Camelot? "Even so, aren't they something of a waste? They have yet to deliver results. Not to mention Schneizel would likely prefer they be returned to him."
"The world has changed, your highness. Britannia holds military advantage over most other nations but it is Britannia you are likely to face, and the other major powers are catching up rapidly. Keeping that military superiority will be essential for an isolated Area such as ours. Unlike everywhere else you have sakuradite to spare for this kind of research. Might as well make the most of it."
Yes. Shoring up their military strength was a must. The blond prince felt glad for an old indulgence paying off in that regard. Giving the Ashfords a bit of preferential treatment despite their fall from grace, it had been a decision made in mourning. The only true allies of Marianne's branch of the imperial family. And so they still maintained a strong grip in the education sector. Something they had unexpectedly put to good use by encouraging the youth of the settlement to go into knightmare pilot training. Suddenly they had many promising recruits from respectable families to potentially fill the ranks. Some even seemed combat ready. "I imagine I could sell it to Schneizel. Whatever Camelot come up with is more or less guaranteed to see combat in the coming weeks or months after all." Against his will, the words came out in a weary sigh. Perhaps in owing to how futile it all seemed. Raising a defense. Playing to the whims of his siblings to keep them pacified. One way or another the house of cards would all come tumbling down and he would be buried under the rubble.
... Of cards.
By God his metaphors.
"Are you fatigued, your highness?" the voice had the temerity to ask.
"Quite the audacious question to ask of your viceroy," Clovis retorted with far less heat than he would have had for anyone else, though not none.
"The perks of being anonymous, I suppose," he answered with audible cheek. "If I may pose another audacious question... Prince Clovis, had you the chance, to see this war end in whatever way you wished, what would it be?"
"It seems I've become too lax in my dealings with you that you would speak to me so impetuously." Even worse, it was almost becoming routine to put on the imperial veneer before giving a true answer. How vexing to become so familiar with a face he had yet to even see. "Very well. A momentary daydream. I would not be so foolish to wish the emperor had not passed. That would only be delaying this very circumstance. I... I would wish for this entire war to end quickly and cleanly. Schneizel wins, I don't especially care. I would wish for my siblings to stop dying. And while I'm wishing I would wish for the ones I've lost to be returned to me."
"... Even now you still mourn them? The vi Britannias?"
"They were among the few I truly liked," he admitted in improper candour. He glanced at his beverage in accusation. Yet he didn't stop. "I remember... The both of them had moments of pique. Surprisingly Nunnally had the stronger temper of the two despite her innocent appearance. Lelouch was more of a dour yet smug superiority. Tolerable because he was a child with the chance to grow out of it and... Well, because he was superior. I quietly relished seeing his defeats at the hands of Schneizel. But if he had the chance, I knew he could grow up to rival him." Another weary sigh. "In a broadly practical sense I suppose then it's good that it will never happen. The two might tear the world apart otherwise. But in truth... One of the things I long for is to be beaten handily at chess again and see that arrogant brother of mine smirk at me as if I'm a complete fool."
"..."
"My sense of decorum seems to have fled me. I'll bid you a good evening Eleven. I appreciate your counsel."
"Of course, your highness."
