Interlude 6: Double, Double, Toil and Trouble
It would be so nice to be able to just foist all this blasted paperwork off onto some intern or functionary. Sadly, seeing as I'm the Viceroy, there are papers that are for my eyes only, and thus, cannot be delegated elsewhere.
I sigh as I chew on the tip of my pen. At least Euphie isn't giving me the cold shoulder anymore.
To say she was furious about being all but under house arrest would be putting it mildly. But after Kawaguchi...no. Better she be angry than hurt.
She did find something productive to do, after a week or so. Though cracking down on Refrain is an issue I consider a waste of time. Better to let the Numbers dream themselves to death.
At least, that had been my initial thought. However, Euphemia said that letting Zero take the lead on this issue was inexcusable.
"If we don't deal with it, the people will think we don't care or that we're responsible for it!"
Not to mention her 'informant'.
I don't know who is tipping her off, but somehow she's managed to make significant headway into the backers of the Refrain trade, and corruption in Area 11 as a whole. Both of which are rooted in the nobility and upper class here.
I'm at once both proud of her, and bitterly disappointed that Clovis would let this colony become rotten to the core.
The obvious suspect for her informant is our resident masked terrorist, Zero. The only question is, why? Why help us clean up the Area?
The only thing that makes sense aside from some convoluted plot out of a novel, is that he's actually serious about the 'Justice' thing.
I rub the bridge of my nose as I think back to the recording going viral on the internet after the battle last week.
The so-called "Narita Speech", or "Mara Speech", as some are calling it.
He's a powerful speaker; perhaps the only person I could possibly compare him to is Father. They both have this overwhelming presence when they speak.
Unsurprisingly, Father has not deigned it worth his time to respond to any of my reports. "Mundane affairs," Schneizel had reported.
Pah! Mundane affairs?! The Empire could potentially be fighting a war on two fronts, if the damn Chinese decide to do something! It's rubbish like this that's making problems like Zero pop up! Sometimes I just want to wring his—!
I stop myself right there and take a deep breath. That thought is dangerously close to treason. Even if there is a grain of truth about the negligence.
I look down and notice that I've torn up and crumbled the paperwork I was working on.
I look both ways before discretely putting the paper in the shredder.
I sigh as I lean back in my chair. At least Clovis had had good taste in furniture, even if most of the palace is incredibly tacky and overdone. "Haute couture," I believe he had called it.
I had said it looked like a painted chicken trying to be a peacock, the last time I had visited. Clovis had sighed dramatically and proclaimed I had no future in high fashion.
I sniff as memories of the other side of Clovis come out. The dark side. The vindictive sore loser. The one who had created Code-R.
The Shinjuku incident was regrettable but not really worthy of mention, despite Euphie's protests to the contrary.
No, the problem wasn't the purge. That could be justified under the right reasons. It's that the reasons he used don't fit.
Why only use the Purists and Honorary Britannians? Why were there no gas masks issued? And most importantly? Why not just clusterbomb the entire ghetto and THEN move in?
There's no evidence of any chemical fallout, no records of safety equipment being purchased that would fit with bio-weapon control protocols. And Gottwald can't find the science teams that Clovis supposedly had on roster.
I walk over to the cabinet, taking out a bottle of tequila from Area 3. And on further thought, a cigar as well.
After pouring a drink, I stroll onto the veranda overlooking the city, sitting down in one of the nice lounge chairs. Sparking a match, I take a deep pull on the tobacco, then blow a smoke ring into the air.
Still can't seem to manage that trick with the dot in the middle, though.
"Heh. Still better than me after all these years, my lady?" I whisper as I sip the burning alcohol.
Lady Marianne's death marked the end of an era. Her death, and my failure to protect her children, are my greatest failings in this life.
I suppose that's why I'm so overprotective of Euphie. And why I HATE these damned islands.
They already took Lelouch, Nunnally, and Clovis from me. And now they almost took Euphie, as well.
If not for Zero, I would have had to bury a fourth sibling here. And maybe myself, after I finished killing every goddamned Eleven left in this Area.
Zero...come to think of it, I suppose I owe him one for Narita, as well.
Yes, he did threaten to blow me up, but that was war. He also warned me to retreat before the JLF used their self-destruct.
Clever little bastard with the bluff, though.
"Care for some company, Your Highness?"
I look over my shoulder. Darlton and Guilford. I smile softly, "Pour yourselves a glass and join me. I could use your opinion, boys."
The two of them are my best sounding board. My mentor and my knight. And after Narita? I need to figure out our next move.
After we're all seated, I chew on the cigar in my mouth a moment before speaking.
"Gentlemen, what should we consider Narita as? A victory? A defeat? Something in-between?"
Darlton frowns, making his scar ripple, "May I speak frankly, Your Highness?"
"Andreas, you don't have to stand on formality. Just give me the honest truth."
He takes a sip, coughing at the taste, "Never did acquire a taste for this. Frankly, Cornelia? We got outplayed."
Guilford frowns, "Darlton, we finished off the JLF. And we drove off the Black Knights. How can we possibly have lost?"
I sigh as I ash my cigar, "Guilford, Zero himself said that the JLF had betrayed them."
Guilford adjusts his glasses, "Before or after Zero knifed them in the back? It's clear he had nothing but disdain for the JLF. His honor is a matter of convenience. He discards allies like sodden tissues," he says disdainfully.
Darlton barks out a laugh, "Ha! With allies like them? I'd be watching my back the entire time. I have nothing but respect for the man who helped us finish them off."
I raise an eyebrow, "So who won Narita, in your opinion?"
He sags back into the chair, grimacing. "No one. The Black Knights may have gotten some small strategic victory for the future by fighting us openly, but it's clear that Zero wasn't expecting Katase's betrayal. I'd say they achieved a draw," he shrugs his shoulders after that.
"Then surely, Britannia can consider this a victory. The Black Knights fled, the JLF crushed, and we now know the Black Knights have some steel in them so we'll be prepared next time," Guilford quips, adjusting his glasses.
I ash the cigar as I give him a flat look, "At what cost, Guilford? We lost most of our troops from that operation to Zero's landslide. Which, I might add, we still haven't figured out how he accomplished it."
Guilford still isn't treating them as a serious threat. Perhaps if Tohdoh had been on the field...no. May as well claim that blasted Eleven pilot Kuru-whatever would have made a difference.
"Gilbert, did you review the footage from my Gloucester?" I say testily. He shakes his head. Normally I would not fault him for it, but these are unusual circumstances.
I feel a vibration in my pocket and pull out my phone to read a text from Camelot.
Damnation.
I tuck the phone back into my pants as I slug down the tequila, "That was Camelot. Professor Asplund is convinced that the red Knightmare I fought is responsible for the avalanche, and that it was designed by his professional rival. An Indian graduate from Colchester named Rakshata Chawla."
Darlton rubs his chin in thought. It's a troubling prospect. Zero's so-called Red Queen might be the harbinger of an entirely new generation of Knightmare Frames.
"Cornelia, tell me truthfully. Could you have beaten that pilot on equal grounds, assuming parity between your Frames?"
It's a difficult question. I've only fought her once. The limiting factor has always been the Frame's response time and ability to do what the pilot wanted it to do. Which is why Aces are usually distinguished by their ability to read the moves of their opponents.
Oh, reaction speed is damned useful, don't get me wrong. But even Gloucesters can't react at a level to satisfy the likes of a Knight of the Round. I should know, I'm close to that level myself. But if the machine weren't the limiting factor, and had a higher level of performance capable of meeting the demands of a pilot?
"Andreas, it's hard to say. I'd have to fight her again to make an adequate guess," I say trepadaciously.
He snorts, "So you can't. You just don't want to admit it."
I turn to glare at him, "And just what are you implying?"
I put an arm on Guilford to stop him from getting up. Darlton is brash, but he's also a great general. If he's saying this, he must have good reasons.
Andreas sips the tequila, grimacing at the taste, "If you fought her in Gloucesters? You might win. But it would most likely be from experience with that Frame, not because you were necessarily better. And if she's as good as I think she is? You wouldn't be able to beat her with a Frame that could actually keep up with her skills."
He points to Guilford, "Gilbert, can you tell me to my face that our Princess can beat Knights of the Round?"
My knight clearly does not appreciate being put on the spot. "Perhaps Sir Bradley, or Lady Kruczewski," he hedges, grumbling at the admittance.
Darlton smirks, "The Emperor's hatchet-man, whom we all know is in the ranks solely because his Majesty needs someone to do the dirty work. And the Commander of the Imperial Guard, who is a better strategist and commander than she is a pilot."
Good old Darlton. Always going for the throat, even when it's not very tactful. "Your point, Andreas?" I grumble as I puff on the tobacco.
"Against those two? Certainly, I'd give you good odds. But against the likes of Ernst, or Alstreim, or Weinberg? We both know that you would lose. And that Red Queen? Her, I can't say that about."
What?! To say she's better than me is one thing, but to say she can match or defeat Rounds-level pilots is quite another!
"How the hell can you claim she's on that level from one battle?"
He leans back and shrugs, "Instinct. I've got a good eye for talent. And Asplund took a look at her moves from the black boxes we recovered and from your fight. He was more than a bit rude about it, of course, but the short version of his analysis is we should have used the Lancelot, because nothing else is good enough and because his pilot IS better than you."
Guilford is out of his seat with a huff, "How dare you, Darlton! To think that you would compare an Eleven blackguard to our princess?! If we hadn't known each other for—!"
"Can you control the Lancelot?" Darlton enunciates slowly.
Guilford stops his tirade mid-rant. "What? What does that have to do with anything? I've never tried."
He turns to me, "Your Highness, can you?"
I blow out a smoke cloud, "I also did not try. What is the point of this line of questioning?"
He closes his eyes, leaning his hand on his chin.
"I'm asking, because Asplund had my boys, the Glaston Knights, try back in the homeland a while ago. All five averaged 60%, give or take. Do you know what Kururugi got on his first time piloting, hell, what was his first time outside a simulator?"
I raise an eyebrow, surely it can't be that impressive.
"94%. And the professor said he had been shot in the ribs before that."
Ninety-four? But that means...
"You mean to say this Eleven trash is one of the best pilots in the Empire? Asplund clearly has been inhaling vapors from his machines," Guilford sneers.
Darlton stands up, a few inches taller than Gilbert, a hard look on his rugged face.
"I trust my sons' judgement, not Camelot's mad scientist. And they told me that the Lancelot was an over-tuned monster that none of them could move well enough to use, let alone master. So I'll ask you to retract that insult, Guilford," he says with his eyes narrowed.
I sigh and stand up, putting my arms between them.
"Gentlemen, let us not bicker among ourselves. The only one who benefits from such is Zero. And I'll not give him the satisfaction of laughing at our mistakes. Darlton, what do you suggest we do with Kururugi?"
The two of them sit down, letting out a deep breath. Honestly, this country is bringing out the worst in us. None of us like being here.
"My apologies, Sir Darlton. I meant no disrespect to your sons," Guilford says with some remorse.
"It's fine. As for Kururugi? Obviously, we need to take care to be sure of his loyalty. So let's put him on the front lines where he can prove it. I care more about his ability and his loyalty to the Empire than his nationality," the old soldier grouses.
Darlton has always quietly disagreed with the overt racism in the military. Kept saying we were losing the chance at getting outstanding soldiers by keeping them down with racial prejudice.
"Very well. I'll arrange a mock battle with Guilford to see if Asplund's claims are exaggerated. Any suggestions for dealing with Zero, short-term?"
Guilford adjusts his glasses and turns to look me in the eye, "Your Highness, we should finish culling the JLF first, and then search the entire settlement. Cordon off sections and root them out like the rats they are."
Finishing off the JLF, certainly. Not even the Black Knights are going to interfere there. But cordoning the settlement?
"I agree that the JLF should be vanquished, Gilbert, but the damned nobles will start whining if we slash and burn our way through the city to hunt down Zero. And right now? We need to replenish our ranks. Not to mention Euphemia had a point. Zero has far too much support among the corrupt infrastructure in this colony."
I turn to Darlton, "Andreas, help my sister with her investigations. We may yet find a trail to Zero's money that way. In particular, see if you can drag these 'Six Houses of Kyoto' into the light."
I nod to Guilford, "You mentioned disgust at the state of the local garrisons and commanders, a while ago. You have my permission to put them through the wringer and weed out the flotsam."
My knight gets an eager gleam in his eye at my orders. Gilbert is a harsh taskmaster when he's in the role of a drill sergeant, but a bloody good one. He'll make soldiers from these swine.
I put out my cigar, "I'll be coordinating with Gottwald, meanwhile, to try and squeeze something useful out of our 'oh-so-spectacular' intelligence agencies. I'm not happy with all the conspiracies going on here. And I want Zero taken alive to help unravel them. He knows far more than he's let on."
A grim silence is their only response. Which is understandable: the stonewalling from OSI and coverup on Code-R has me worried and all but certain that I've walked into a hornet's nest of black projects and covert ops.
"If there's nothing else, may I be excused? I'm supposed to be getting a call from my boys in Area 18," Darlton says, cracking his neck.
I smile and nod, "Of course. Give them my best. I'll likely be sending for them soon."
The old general salutes, "By your leave, Your Highness. Have a good evening."
He marches off, a smile on his lips.
I turn to Guilford with a sigh. "You realize he would likely have punched you unconscious with one blow, had you been anyone else, Gilly."
If there's one thing that will set Darlton off without fail, it's insulting his sons. Five orphans that he took in and raised himself. I've seen him beat more than one officer unconscious for disdaining then as 'commoner scum'. Actions that I had those officers court-martialed for, on charges of insulting the dignity of the Service. I am proud to call those fine young men my soldiers.
Gilbert looks down in shame, "My apologies, Your Highness. I let my natural zeal override my good judgment."
I stroke his cheek gently, "Gilly, it's just us here. You can relax," I whisper to him with a soft smile.
He takes my hand and kisses it, "Of course, Cornelia. I'm just outraged at..."
I lean into him, sighing.
"I know. I can't stand this damned place. This bloody country has taken so much from me. These people are insane."
Gilly snorts as he strokes my hair, "You need but say the word, and I shall put the traitorous scum to the sword."
I playfully swat his chest, "Gilbert, you're not the Knight of Ten. If we have to kill people for the Empire, that's one thing. But we're not butchers reveling in the slaughter. We're professionals."
And yes, I'm aware of the hypocrisy. But I'm an Imperial princess, I'm allowed to be a hypocrite on occasion.
And besides, Father would almost certainly back me to the hilt. Not out of any sense of paternal love or vengeance, but as a political message. Even with Lelouch and Nunnally declared persona non grata before their deaths, they were still royalty.
Father might not have cared much about Clovis's death, but he was aware enough of the need to send a message, that the Empire cannot and will not tolerate the death of three Imperial scions, to bestow upon me the position of Viceroy.
...Though given what Zero said about Code-R, he may know more about what's going on here than he's told me.
I trust him as much as I do Schneizel, which is to say, not at all. I love the man as my brother, but the 'White Prince' always has an agenda.
I digress. If something had happened to Euphie? Realpolitik alone would demand a disproportionately vicious reprisal. A full decimation of Area 11 would be the minimal response necessary. A response I would have been only too eager to escalate.
"You miss them still, don't you?" he whispers.
My only response is to hold onto him tighter. Sometimes words aren't necessary.
"Gilly, I just want to deal with Zero, clean up this colony...and go home with Euphie. I'll be happy to be rid of this cursed country. Let some other glory hound or bureaucrat take over. Area 11 has been nothing but a blight on this Empire since the Second Pacific War. If not for the Sakuradite, I wouldn't see any reason to be here at all."
No matter how much that thrice-damned pink mineral is worth, it wasn't worth the lives of three of my brothers and sisters.
"What of General Bartley, the previous military commander? Surely he would know something about this Code-R?" Gilbert muses out loud.
I snarl, "Gottwald arrested him and sent him to the homeland, on suspicion of treason and abetting regicide. Except that once he got to the homeland? He disappeared. No one knows where he was sent to."
Gilly takes off his glasses, rubbing his forehead in annoyance, "My Princess, you'll forgive me for saying this, but...I fear his Majesty is toying with us. This reeks of OSI interference."
Exactly my suspicion. Something is rotten in the state of Area 11.
"Gilly," I say breathlessly. "Right now, I'd prefer your zeal be put to better uses," I say as I kiss him.
It's something of an open secret that royals are often involved in relationships with their Knights. Schneizel is an exception in that regard, because it's his personal assistant instead. What isn't publicly known, is that Earl Maldini is actually my brother's Knight of Honor and a formidable assassin.
I chortle as Gilbert opens up my dress uniform, sucking on my nipples. Gilly's best feature as a lover, is both that I trust him implicitly, and that he puts the same zeal into protecting and defending me, into making love. It doesn't take long for Gilly to bend me over my desk, pulling off my dress pants and licking at my vagina.
I don't know it as a fact, but it would not surprise me if Clovis also had some late night assignations in this office.
"Aaahhh..." I breath out in a contented sigh.
For one thing? The viceroys' desk is just about the perfect height for this. Not to mention the soundproofing. Despite Clovis's flamboyant manner and appearance of being a poofter, he was also something of a ladies' man.
I gasp as I'm penetrated, Gilbert wasting no time sliding into me.
For appearance's sake, Gilbert does occasionally fool around with other women. As a professional military woman, not to mention a commander, I'm expected to set an example.
I arch my back, moaning, my large breasts bouncing as Gilbert pulls my arms back to drive himself inside me.
Naturally, my reputation as an untouchable "Goddess of Victory" would suffer if anyone saw this.
I kiss him hungrily as Gilly grunts, forcing a gasp from me as he pulls my long purple hair. I'm certainly nowhere near as deviant as some of my siblings. But I do enjoy it a bit rough at times.
Father has 108 consorts, CLEARLY we had to get it from somewhere.
Our cries of passion are certainly putting the soundproofing through it's paces tonight.
"Ah! Ah! Ah!"
I shudder as Gilly spanks me. This kind of release is exactly what we need right now.
"My Princess, I'm—!" Guilford grunts, straining to hold himself back.
I moan, letting him lift one of my legs up for deeper penetration, "Give it to me, Gilly! It's what we both need! My Knight, my lover! Ahhh!"
I cry out as he releases his seed inside me, our mutual satisfaction apparent in our blissful expressions.
We reach out and caress the other's cheek tenderly, our affectionate gaze saying more than words ever could.
Neither of us are really comfortable with public displays of affection. Partially because of our chosen career path, and partially our respective positions. It's only in private moments like this, or the heat of passion, that we can express how we really feel.
One thing about our military that's of great comfort to our service members? Our birth control methods are top notch and completely safe. Fraternization among the ranks is given a blind eye so long as it doesn't negatively affect unit cohesion, morale, or fighting ability.
Service members who have sufficient veteran status can take time off for families or, in the case of female members, pregnancy. Accidents do happen, after all, whether deliberately or otherwise.
The methods Gilly and I use mean we can't have children for a few years. Which is fine. A battlefield is no place to raise children.
And I intend to serve my country first. Not to mention getting the succession after Father settles.
I'm not blind enough to the political reality to not know that I am the second strongest candidate for the throne after Schneizel. I may not desire the throne itself, but I can still secure a future for those I care about as a kingmaker if need be.
I sigh as I lean on Guilford's bare chest, we both having laid down on the chaise lounge on one side of the room.
In truth? Euphemia would be a great Empress in a kinder and gentler world.
But... such a world doesn't exist. And so we make due with the wretched one we have.
I kiss Guilford as I straddle his lap. Tomorrow, we go back to work, protecting and serving our empire.
But for tonight? Tonight at least, is for us.
