Interlude 9: Pristine Sophistry

Pawn to E1.

A melancholy sigh escapes my lips as I recline in my chair, deep in a chess game against the only opponent I have yet to defeat aside from Father.

Myself.

Father has not indulged me in a game for years. But I distinctly remember how easily he swept aside my defenses, seeing through my every move.

Quite honestly, I'd be insulted or feel like I was being infantilized, if he hadn't turned to me and said it was a good game. Which might be one of the few times he ever complimented me.

The taste of merlot from Sonoma does little to alleviate the bitterness.

Knight to B3.

Despite playing this game against myself, and losing, which is an amusing thought in of itself? The game mirrors another one being played across a larger field. Namely, the classified operations my agents are undertaking in response to certain forces moving against me.

Someone deep within the clandestine operations of the empire has taken notice of me, or perhaps I have seen something of theirs not meant for living eyes. Either way, it would seem I have a new enemy.

"Or perhaps, an old one whom I just learned of…" I whisper as a thought occurs to me of who this phantom might be.

VV. The mysterious man behind the curtain. A man who, if Zero is correct, is responsible for the death of an empress and the crippling of a princess. A fact I am curiously inclined to consider as possible.

But that gives rise to another question. Why does VV want Zero dead?

There's something more than a threat to the empire, even as dire as that is. The degree to which he's acted, the force brought to bear. It is beyond excessive. It is not just using enough force to ensure the surety of Zero's downfall, it is going beyond that to ensure his death is a message.

There is something here I am not seeing.

Picking up a file from my coffee table, my eyes glance over intelligence reports, reports forwarded to me directly from the OSI itself. A force even I have limited influence over. The reports speak of thwarted plans, a web of intrigue, some nefarious scheme to do me harm.

None of which is surprising. I am the Prime Minister of Britannia. Someone wants to do me harm every hour of every day. What is peculiar however, is the same sigil that keeps appearing in connection with the assassins and conspirators.

A crane in flight. A stylized and abstract symbol, but one that held enough meaning that the assassins bore the emblem branded on their bodies.

Something peculiar in itself. This is not the behavior of professional assassins, agents, or hitmen. This is the realm of fanatics. A religious order, or a cult.

To think something so depraved has infiltrated Britannia at its highest echelons…

"And father, it seems, has no more use for you, Sir VV."

Indeed, OSI would not be taking pains to guard my operations and assets like this if it was not on the direct orders of His Majesty. Something I'm grateful for given the sophistication and subterfuges these vile people are using.

Father wants to root out this criminal enterprise. But for some reason, he doesn't wish to do so directly. So I am to be his cat's paw and hunt down this VV for him.

But why? If Zero's accusation is correct, then father is complicit in the coverup of the murder of the only woman I am certain he ever truly loved. A woman whom I am now wondering if she knew this VV. Lady Marianne would never have withdrawn her guards, unless it was to meet someone who could not be seen. And she paid for that mistake with her life.

It doesn't make sense. Nothing about it fits. Why protect such a man to begin with? And why throw her children to the wolves?

I pour myself another glass of Merlot, pondering the mystery of Area 11, the nation once called Japan.

It leads back to and connects to that cursed land. Clovis, Code-R, VV, Cornelia, Euphemia, Suzaku Kururugi, Gottwald, what do they have in common besides Japan?

Right there, on the tip of my tongue, past the vision of my mind's eye. Somewhere within the fog of war, lies the answer.

The answer to the greatest mystery of our time:

Who. Is. Zero?

Though how and why this is the answer that connects all things, the implication and clues are clear in their indications.

My brow crinkles in irritation, sipping the wine as I get up and pace along the carpet in my chambers back in the el Britannia estate in Pendragon.

Zero is right there, in front of me. A phantom image, taunting me with the mystery, enticing and toying with me as I seek to puzzle out the reasoning of a madman whom I fear is as great a monster as my sire.

A man like that, dead from what happened? Anyone else, I would consider the book closed and the story ended.

By all means, this should be the end of it. And yet? I cannot shake the feeling. The feeling of inescapable dread. That we have perhaps averted our eyes too soon. That in turning our backs, that once Zero was unobserved, that he could somehow vanish back into the shadows he came from, biding his time to return.

So why did Euphemia side with him?

Sweet, pure, guileless… no. My sister is many things, but not a fool easily taken in by a madman's honeyed words, no matter what Cornelia might protest. Euphemia is naive, idealistic, and perhaps has too romantic a view of human nature. But a blind fool who could be easily swayed to the side of someone as obviously twisted as Zero?

Absolutely not. Which means there is more to this man than meets the eye. The illusionary Zero before me, his shoulders shaking in amusement. Privy to some great secret that no doubt sends him into the paroxysms of laughter.

To turn her against her family, the people who love her so… what could he have said, what could he have offered to make me kneel before him at the SAZ? What silent communication passed between them at that moment?

Hmm? An emergency email from Area 11? Highest priority? Eyes only communication? What the deuce?

… No.

No… this… this cannot be. Cornelia li Britannia, the goddess of victory herself, the heart and soul of our armed forces… has defected?

Vanished without a trace? The remnants of the Gawain, the Guren, and the Code-R team with her?

When? How did this happen? And why?

… The investigation and dating information is uncertain of her exact time of departure yet, but she has been gone over 12 hours. The report was compiled and sent to me first, due to the sensitive nature of the information.

Fingers massaging my brow, fruitlessly trying to stave off the growing migraine, my brain twisting itself into knots, seeking to unravel this new piece of the puzzle.

Clovis, Code-R, VV, Cornelia, Euphemia, Suzaku Kururugi, Gottwald, and now both li Britannia sisters have defected.

Zero is somehow the center of this puzzle. But why? Why would Cornelia and Euphemia defect to his side? Even to save her sister, Cornelia would not leave like this. Her pride and honor as a general of the nation would not permit such. It would be the height of betrayal of her oath of loyalt-

Loyalty. The one thing that all of these things have in common. Those who have sided with Zero have shown an almost inhuman degree of loyalty to the man.

An oath, an oath of loyalty and fealty. And whom was Cornelia pledged to first, before the army, before father, before even Britannia itself?

Marianne vi Britannia.

The figure of Zero gestures, his cloak flaring outward as he holds his other hand out like a fist, the red rain from the siege still slick upon his glove.

"Say my name."

No. It can't be. It's utter madness. It cannot be him of all people.

"Say my name. The name of the Demon King of the Sixth Heaven."

Yet… what other explanation is there? Who else could he be? Who could command the loyalty of a fanatic like Gottwald? The heart of Euphemia? The valor of Suzaku? The pride of Cornelia.

Who… save one man. A man whose loss drove a dagger into my heart. A man whom I have loved, and now fear beyond any other….

I can barely utter the words, my throat frozen as it finally crystalizes before me, and everything now fits together with this revelation. The reason father is doing what he's doing. The reason why Zero is so hauntingly familiar and frightening. The reason why VV now seeks his death.

A death, that judging by his actions, is one Zero wishes to repay in kind. For if Marianne's murder was brutally done in the name of a personnel vendetta?

Then what is Zero… but that vendetta back from the pits of hell to see vengeance rendered?

"Lelouch…...," I whisper as my wine glass shatters on the edge of the table, red merlot flowing like blood onto the carpet, as the mask of Zero shatters upon the phantom's face, a face I can only imagine taking it's place.

He would be tall, his features sharpened by age and experience, his cheeks longer and thinner than they were as a child. The lips smooth and curved in a cruel smile or smirk. His hair the same messy dark elegant color.

But one thing, one feature would remain unchanged after all this time.

The eyes. Those shimmering violet orbs, the same eyes that our father has, that would be the same.

Though they would perhaps differ with the light of madness blazing within them.

Everything makes sense now. There's nothing else that fits. Which means I must recalibrate everything I know about the entire Black Rebellion and where to go from here.

Which means, preparing for the inevitable.

My finger taps a key on my laptop, placing a call that is now of the utmost importance.

"Lloyd. I have need of your services."

"Hmph! I don't see why! You broke my Lancelot and threw my devicer in jail!"

Inevitable of course. Lloyd always did know how to hold a grudge at those who break his toys. Let's sweeten the pot, shall we?

"Now now Lloyd. You know I was merely acting in my capacity as prime minister for the good of the empire. It was a terrible situation for everyone involved, and I regret having to deprive you of such a skilled pilot. But he did openly admit to treason. Surely you can understand the necessity of a practical decision," I say as I steeple my fingers.

"Admitted to treason? I didn't hear about this. All I heard was he was off to Pendragon in chains and charged with such. I'm inclined to think the brass are just trying to cover their foul-ups by blaming the Eleven," the professor's voice says with a scoff.

…The sad thing is that he has a point. Without the protection of his princess, there are few if any people who would protect Suzaku Kururugi at this point from the ire of the rest of the military. Ah well, such is life. He was an interesting and peculiar young man, but he made his choice clear. Such a waste of potential.

"That's all in the past now. To make up for my poor manners, I'll see your budget generously increased, and I'll see about assigning you a suitable pilot to replace him. Perhaps one of the rounds?"

There. Let him wet his beak with a display of generosity. Ultimately Lloyd Asplund only cares about his science and progressing it. He'll be cross with me for awhile about costing him an excellent pilot, but this too, shall pass.

"Hmph. Don't expect an invitation for tea and crumpets any time soon, Schneizel. But I'll accept your apology."

Anyone else would not dare to voice such an opinion to me. To so openly flagrantly disrespect the Prime Minister? Absurd. But that is why I find him so amusing. His contradictory rudeness and total lack of social graces is an endless source of entertainment. And a very very small price to pay for the man's utter genius. And judging by the yelling over the phone at the moment, that of his much beleaguered assistant, Dr. Cecile Croomy, who is chastising him for risking offending their mutual patron.

She really does deserve something nice. Perhaps a bottle of chardonnay, along with a generous bonus and salary increase? Despite Kururugi's treason and the outcome of the siege, two things were clear.

The Black Knights' engineer, Rakshata Chawla, is a formidable person in her own right. Her creation, the Guren, as comms reports labeled it, was a match for Lancelot. And the fact she was able to make the Gawain, a machine I had labeled as a curiosity and a showpiece, into a viable command and air superiority frame, speaks for itself. Not to mention the machines used by the Holy Swords team.

And that Lloyd's genius has proven it's merit. The FLOAT system is a complete change to existing war paradigms, not to mention the commercial applications for civilian use. The MVS, the VARIS, the harken boosters, any of these alone would be a benefit to our armed forces. But a viable 7th Generation Knightmare with enough combat data to start production of custom frames for the Knights of the Round, and a new production class frame for the regular forces?

Britannian High Command thinks this is over. That the threat of Zero is vanquished and we can get back to business as usual.

It is not. We have not yet reached the end of this tale.

I will lay one million pounds sterling on a wager that Zero, no, my brother, Lelouch vi Britannia, yet lives. Which means we are all in grave danger. Though it pains me deeply to think of him as a traitor and the madman he has become?

"Dr. Croomy. My apologies for my actions during the siege of Tokyo. I will endeavor to make it up to you and Lloyd as soon as I can. Please expect a call from me in a week, you should be receiving a bonus from me for your pain and suffering in the interim."

"T-thank you, Your Highness."

"Not at all. It is the least I can offer to show my sincere gratitude for your hard work and superb skills. Farewell. All Hail Britannia."

"All Hail Britannia."

As the call ends, my steely gaze turns to the now fading phantom of Zero, the smirk so omnipresent among my siblings and I that we inherited from our father present on his lips being the last thing to vanish. As I said, though it pains me deeply to think of him as a traitor and the madman he has become?

If you do come back from whatever hell you have fallen into, little brother? I will stop you cold. The world does not need the madness of the demon king to cast it into ruin.