R2 Interlude 24: Threefold Repetition, Weiß
As the sweet sounds of Paganini's Caprice number 4 echoes through my office aboard the Logres class battleship 'Heimdall', my gaze turns to the window showing the sun slowly setting below the clouds, some part of my mind idly wondering if this picturesque and stunning scene is a metaphor for the empire.
What strange and dangerous things lurk beneath the clouds, simply waiting for the chance to strike, much like the state of the world now. Many would claim such talk to be a sign of a deranged and diseased mind. For what possible threat could there be to the mighty Holy Britannian Empire, with even the dreaded Zero vanquished almost a year ago?
Proof of the ignorance and inadequacy of so many who command positions of power in the empire.
Cornelia's desertion was a warning sign, not the desperate act of a fearful sibling, or a woman beset by bereavement. Regrettably, the true reason for her departure is one I cannot in good conscience share with anyone who cannot be trusted. Or indeed, anyone beholden to my father.
Zero's accusation against him and this 'VV', who may or may not be an uncle that I had long since believed dead, weigh heavily against confiding my findings in him. Assuming he is not already aware to begin with.
Father's actions in regards to Area 11 and Zero make little sense from a conventional perspective of any sort, but with the revelation of who is behind the mask, they take on a very different character. For example, Sir Bradley's new assignment is widely presumed to be a punishment for the Japanese. A death sentence handed down for their act of rebellion against the empire and the rise of Zero.
Nothing could be further from the truth. While Area 11's demotion to correctional status is clearly warranted, assigning a knight of the round as Viceroy to penal control duty, particularly when there is no threat of imminent attack is absurd. Indeed, I argued with Father directly that this was excessive and a waste of resources.
Much as I despise Sir Bradley, I can begrudgingly admit the man has some uses on the front lines and as an instrument of suppression. With regards to administration however, he has no talent or inclination. Even Sir Weinberg, as absent minded as he is on occasion, or Dame Alstreim with her mental issues, would have been better choices.
No, there is something else here, something underfoot that has remained unseen. If all roads to Zero, then this too, is connected. Which brings me to the other puzzle to cross my desk. A knight of the Round that neither I nor any of my connections to OSI or other intelligence services have any information on. Every scrap of information on the newly appointed 'Knight of Seven' has been redacted. More so even than Dame Alstreim, whose records are quite sparse.
The Knight of Seven is being used as a cauterizer. Burning away sedition and internal unrest, and closing holes in our defenses along the border with Europia. Brutal, efficient, and revealing nothing of himself in the process. All while appropriating my scientists and my Avalon.
Seeing as how it's early evening, I twirl a wine key in one hand, and set to work uncorking a bottle for an aperitif before dinner. Shiraz from the Napa Valley vineyards is a bottle I'd normally share with Kanon, but sadly my other half is elsewhere.
I have no doubt he will be a touch irritated with me for opening this without him, but such is life.
He would also scold me for indulging in more drinking than normal were he here. And it is true, that I have partaken of more than my usual share of libations following the revelation of Lelouch's revolt against the empire. Considering the circumstances, one can hardly blame me for a feeling of unease.
Twirling the glass slowly as the dark liquor gives off a rich scent of blackberry and truffle, a thought occurs to me regarding the newest knight-errant of the empire.
"Hmm, yes. If anyone would know something about him, she of all people would. And having commandeered my personal ship for his use, I would of course have cause to ask regarding it's return."
Not to mention the reports of his raids against Europia are…concerning. None would begrudge a man for brutality in the heat of battle. But refusing surrender offers and ordering no quarter? Such actions make my job as Prime Minister unnecessarily more difficult. And since the man refuses to speak to anyone save Lord Waldstein or his Majesty himself? Well, I am forced to use alternative routes.
A tap of a few keys, a moment's time to connect the encryption and call request, and voila. There on the other side of the world in her office in Pendragon, sits Dame Beatrice Franks, 'Knight of the Lost Sword', and one of the least personable people I have ever had the displeasure of dealing with. But, needs must.
"Good morning, Special Inspector Franks. How does this fine day find you?" I ask congenially, taking a small sip of my drink. As ever, Dame Franks conveys very little in her expressions beyond a general disdain for everyone and everything unfortunate enough to cross her path.
"Prime..minister. What can the office of special inspector do for you?"
However, as a man who deals in the political sphere, she does have a few tells. A minor twitch, a hint of strain in her tone, etc. All of which tell me that something has indeed irked her.
"I find myself with a conundrum that I pray your insight can help me solve. Tell me, what information do you have about the newest addition to the Rounds, the Knight of Seven? His record was unusually redacted, even from my clearance."
Which means that Father himself was behind it. Or possibly my illusive uncle.
The lady raises an eyebrow archly, steeping her fingers together while looking at me over the rim of her glasses. One could feel the coldness in her tone and presence even over a video call.
"Regrettably, the Knight of Seven is outside even my authority. His Majesty has given him special dispensation to act on his own accord and I can tell you very little of the man aside from my personal opinions of him and the after-reports filed," she states, the minute twitch near her eye betraying this is something that truly vexes her. But curious, very curious. Outside even her authority?
The Special Duty Inspector is granted command over the Rounds in the absence of Sir Waldstein. Her authority in these matters is second only to him and Father himself. What is so important about this man that he is allowed to act in such a manner?
"How peculiar. I don't recall anyone save Sir Waldstein given such largess in their responsibilities. Any information you are able to provide will be greatly appreciated," I say, raising my eyebrow slowly, schooling my expression to show a hint of casual interest, nothing beyond a passing whim.
The woman's hand twitches, a slow breath being taken as she lowers her hands to lay them flat on her desk. Well well, the plot thickens.
"That man is someone who I do not believe should ever have been allowed to set foot inside the imperial palace, let alone made a knight of the round. He has no respect for the dignity and honor of the high station he has been granted, no sense of duty to those whom he should obey, and his disrespectful attitude shames the name of the Round Table. Lord Waldstein himself declared that he was a dead man with a singular goal, a goal which I sincerely do not believe, is serving his Majesty."
Placing my glass down, I lean forward, nakedly portraying my interest in this narrative. Truthfully, this was a bit of a gamble. Dame Franks and I are not usually on the best of terms, mutual respect for each other's skills aside. She has no taste for pleasantries or culture, and I on the other hand find her as interesting to speak with as a Victorian Era architect would find looking at Brutalist architecture.
"May I ask what you are basing this assessment of his character on? The reports from his battle depict him as quite efficient on the field of battle, if exceptionally ruthless in his execution of his orders. Perhaps I can persuade Lord Waldstein to speak with him regarding his actions," my airy tone opines in what I hope she will consider an olive branch.
"The man dared to bring a number into the imperial palace and to proclaim he was simply going to barge into a private meeting His Majesty was having. While I will grant that he was summoned by the emperor, he refused to recognize my authority when I asked him to wait and threatened to draw steel against me, within the palace. An act I'd have taken his despicable number heart out for, had Lord Waldstein not arrived to provide a reprieve. Furthermore, he had rebuked me on several other occasions before his departure for the battle lines in Europia. He is an insolent cur whom-"
"Pardon, did you say he is a number?" I ask with mild surprise in my tone, a fraction of the actual emotion within me at this revelation. A number? Made into a knight of the round?
It would appear I was right to suspect something was peculiar about him, especially with the further mystery of another number being brought into the palace for a meeting with Father.
"Yes, I've seen the man without his hood or gloves on, he is clearly one of the asiatic numbers. If he were part of the southern hemisphere Areas, he might be acceptable. But the asian numbers are barbarous mongrels unfit to shine the shoes of their betters. Why your brother Prince Clovis ever thought they were worth inducting into the ranks of Honorary Britannians after what happened to your siblings I will never understand," she scoffs, raising her glasses up with a finger.
My left hand idly brushes a lock of hair up as I look her in the eye, now certain that I am on the verge of discovery, "Setting aside your aggravation against the knight of seven, what of the person he brought in? Who was this number that His Majesty had a knight of the round retrieve?"
"..I didn't catch her name-no, wait. Lord Waldstein mentioned the name Stadfelt. Curious, why would a number have a Britannian name?" she mutters, tapping her desk as she pauses in thought.
Hmm. That is most suspicious. Let's see what I can find with a quick glance. Imperial census shows there is a family with that name in Area 11, Duke George Stadfelt and Lady Rebekah Stadfelt, one daughter, Kallen Stadfelt, student at Ashfor- just a moment.
"Dame Franks, is this the girl you saw?" I say, bringing up an image of the girl from Ashford Academy's official records.
Her eyes instantly narrow at the sight, "That's the one. She looked like a rabid dog that had been starved in a kennel, but that was indeed her..albeit she looked far more like a number when I saw her. Who is she?"
Something is amiss here. According to my contacts in OSI, this girl was under observation. Was, being the operative word.
"That, is Heiress Kallen Stadfelt of the Stadfelt Duchy of Area 11. And she was apparently in Area 11 under observation from the Office of Secret Intelligence, until she vanished without a trace two months ago. Could you shed some light as to why a noble heiress was brought into the imperial palace in the dead of night, by a knight of the round?" the jovial tone of my query at odds with the mystery before us.
A student at Ashford..oh Lelouch you old rascal. You went straight to your mother's old allies and hid right under our noses after the war. Diabolical.
And Millicent Ashford is also missing, since around the same time as the missing heiress. Ha ha ha ha, of course, of course.
"Did Lord Waldstein or the Knight of Seven say anything else about this girl before they left? Anything at all, whatever clues you have will be helpful."
Truthfully, I have a theory as to who she and the mysterious Knight of Seven both are, but I'd rather not tip my hand until I have more to confirm it.
Dame Franks takes off her glasses, cleaning them with a microfiber cloth, glaring at me the entire time, "Your Highness, I am growing swiftly tired of answering questions without receiving answers in turn. What is the point of this inquiry, particularly late at night when most civilized people are turning in?"
A congenial smiles graces my lip as I lower my head, "My apologies, I thought this inquiry important enough that it could not wait for a more civilized hour. And please do humor with this last question, you have my word that there is an important purpose behind this."
Given the open scoff she's not bothering to hide, I fear I have overstayed the bounds of politeness, "I do recall Lord Waldstein saying something about a flash, but I couldn't quite overhear him. Now then, I would like some answers forthcoming, Prime Minister."
Flash? What the deuce does that-truly? Can it really be that obvious?
Hmm, perhaps the devil was hiding in plain sight after all. Particularly since I am all but certain of who the Knight of Seven really is under that mask.
"I have reason to believe that the young woman in question was connected with the Black Knights. And according to OSI records, some time ago, there was a clandestine operation of some kind in Area 11, following which, the young lady and certain other individuals under OSI observation vanished."
Taking a sip momentarily to quench my thirst, I proceed to the denouement of my point, "It is my belief, that Kallen Stadfelt, is in reality the Red Queen, the ace of the Black Knights. And that she has since been retrieved by her comrades."
Were I asked to swear this in a court of law, I would of course demur or deny this accusation. There isn't nearly enough evidence to stand a barrister's questioning or attain a warrant. However, sometimes in the course of diplomacy, one must tell a white lie or two.
And in this case, it may be the truth. Why else would the Black Knights strike at Area 11, if not to retrieve their greatest warrior?
To her credit, Dame Franks does not blanch at the suggestion I have made nor does she show any emotion besides a stiffening of her shoulders and features.
"Prime Minister. I would ask you to clarify exactly what you mean by that accusation. Because there is an insinuation I do not care for in your tone."
Bishop checks king.
"I am only postulating based on available evidence. Do you not find it rather suspicious that an eleven woman, one who is apparently a half britannian member of the peerage of Area 11 was brought to the imperial palace secretly, and then subsequently vanished weeks later along with suspected operatives of the Black Knights organization? There are reports of explosions along major transport routes in Tokyo and gunships being deployed in response. This roughly coincides with the time Heiress Stadfelt vanished," I finish with a flourish, letting a slight smirk form on my lips.
Special Inspector Franks scoffs, tapping a pen on her desk, "Poppycock. You have only vague suppositions and rumor-mongering. None of what you said can be proven, so I fail to see why I should let you make disgraceful insinuation against His Majes-"
"The Knight of Seven is Suzaku Kururugi. A man who turned traitor against the empire. And whom I believe, has only rejoined the empire's service because his charge, my sister Princess Euphemia, has perished."
THAT, gets her attention. Because without revealing the connection to my presumed dead brother, I can't prove why Lady Stadfelt vanished. But? I can prove who the Knight of Seven is.
She narrows her eyes, sitting up in her chair and leaning forward, a look of disgust and outrage apparent in her eyes, "You will explain your reasoning, Sir. Or I shall be forced to consider your own loyalties as suspect."
Rook moves to block bishop.
"It is elementary. You yourself said that he was disrespectful and refused to obey your authority, and that Lord Waldstein declared him a dead man with a singular goal. A mindset which easily fits a knight who feels his honor disgraced and his heart broken. Furthermore, he pilots the Lancelot, a machine that few if any could wield, and yet he pilots it with the greatest of ease. Even commandeering my associate Earl Asplund and Dr. Cecile Croomy for his use."
Smiling lackasically, my right hand strokes my chin, "We are both quite familiar with Earl Asplund's…eccentric character. Do you truly believe it would be that easy to find another person whom he would permit to use his machine and do so with the skill the Knight of Seven has demonstrated? It was rather suspicious how quickly His Majesty was able to find a pilot for it following the Siege of Tokyo, was it not? And a number at that."
Knight moves to put king in check.
"Bearing all of these facts in mind, why would His Majesty, Charles zi Britannia, a man who believes in the ideal of social darwinism, endorse a number as a Knight of the Round, if not for the sake of vengeance, and because her killer may yet live?"
Heh. Why indeed, father? You are playing your own game here, only it is the empire itself that is being wagered. There is something else here, something I cannot see through the fog of war.
But? Fog of war cuts both ways. And as much as it obscures your actions, father? It also acts as a cloud of suspicion.
"...You believe that Zero yet lives. And that His Majesty released a dangerous rebel, one with skills comparable to the Rounds, back into the wild to rejoin her comrades."
My shoulders shrug upward in a gesture of helplessness, an air of resigned vexation about me, "I would hope there is a reasonable explanation for all of this, but I honestly cannot conceive of one with the facts at hand. If you consider my theory for what has happened to be something you cannot abide, might you suggest a reasonable alternative? Particularly one that accounts for Princess Cornelia disappearing as well. I would be ever so grateful, Dame Franks."
It is possible that she left to join Zero for the sake of her sister, and for that of Lelouch. But I do not believe Suzaku knows the truth of that. Perhaps he suffered a traumatic injury and believes Euphemia is dead. Or more likely, Father has brainwashed and conditioned him into a weapon using the opaqueness of the situation to insinuate the worst.
Admittedly, the theory breaks down a bit here, but nothing else can account for the facts. Sir Kururugi was adamant in opposing me at Tokyo, and he said it was for the sake of love. Why else would he take up the position of a Knight of the Round Table, if not for revenge?
"Prime Minister Schneizel."
My eyebrow raises as the fingers of Dame Franks' left hand curl into a fist, a look of pure icy disregard etching itself onto her features as she looks me in the eye.
"Do NOT call this number again unless it is for official business under my duties as Special Duty Inspector. If I hear anything of this sort from you again, I shall immediately report it to His Majesty and recommend your immediate imprisonment on charges of treason for Lese Majesty and fomenting rebellion. Good day, sir."
With that declaration, the line disconnects, leaving only a blank screen…leaving me sitting on my couch, a triumphant smirk forming on my lips.
First Checkmate.
Really, I could not have imagined that going nearly as well as it did. What a treasure trove of information that woman was. I almost want to send her a gift basket, save that I'd likely receive a letterbomb in response. Finding out the identity of the Knight of Seven, learning that Zero is on the verge of returning, the likely identity of the Red Queen and planting the seed of suspicion in Dame Beatrice Franks was worth destroying any sort of working relationship with the woman.
A few minutes breather to brew a fresh pot of tea sounds like a superb suggestion. Particularly since the next call may not be as productive. Hmm, something light, or something with a bit of bitterness? Ah, there we are.
With careful and practiced ease, I measure out three teaspoons of Darjeeling Oolong, setting the temperature on the kettle for one hundred ninety five degrees fahrenheit to steep for three minutes. Once again, I lament that my better half is not here. For some reason his tea always tastes better than when I brew a pot myself.
"Let's see, what is the time currently in Paris..?" I mutter as my fingers tap through the communication protocols needed to bypass functionaries and contact my target directly. Six in the evening, hmm.
Given whom I'm attempting to speak with, the odds are in my favor that he is likely working late in his office. Should I be wrong of course, this call is one I can attempt at a later date. If however, he is there, all the better.
A tap of a few keys sends an encrypted call request to a certain person in the Europian military, a person whom I recently learned that we have leverage on, thanks to a timely report from an insider in Euro Britannia's military. Sadly, Euro Britannia was in disarray thanks to the untimely death of Grand Master Shin Hyuga Shaing. Not that the late Lord Shaing will be missed, there were quite a few questions as to how he ascended to his position as Grand Master of the Order of Saint Michael, not to mention his usurpation of Arch-Duke Augusta Henry Highland's position and the executions of several high ranking officials following said takeover.
Hence why Father sent the newly knighted Sir Kururugi to the Euro Britannian front. As they say though, one man's calamity is another's opportunity. And rather than let a useful spy slip through the cracks because he believes his service is ended?
I intend to collar him and ensure he remains 'properly motivated' in his service.
"Connection established, encrypting signal."
Wonderful. The previous code still works, time to greet our agent.
"Hello?"
A tap of a key on my monitor brings the video portion of the call on as I smile congenially at the disheveled and bewildered expression on the face of Lieutenant Colonel Klaus Warwick, late of the W-0 special forces assigned to Castle Weisswulf. A force which has been curiously absent from the front lines for some time now.
"Good evening Lt. Col. Warwick. I don't believe we've had the pleasure. Do you have a moment to speak with me?"
Politeness costs nothing, and sometimes is worth its weight in gold. Right now for instance, I need not threaten or intimidate the man from the start. The mere fact that I have this number and that I of all people am calling him, is threatening enough.
"..You..you're..the Prime Minister of Britannia..how did you-?"
My left hand comes up to forestall any further bewilderment, "Your pardon for the lateness and abruptness of the call, I was merely calling to apprise you of a change in your..arrangement with your previous handlers."
Tis a rather sad state of affairs. Lt. Col. Warwick is not a wealthy man, nor one with a stable homelife. He and his wife are estranged, and his salary as an officer is insufficient for the alimony owed to his wife and to cover the medical bills of his daughter. Hence why when an offer of working for Euro Britannia in exchange for sufficient funds to secure his daughter's welfare was extended, it was accepted on the spot.
"Due to the upheaval in Euro Britannia along with the lack of requests for reports from your end, you may have been under the mistaken impression that your services were no longer required, or that your arrangement has run its course," I say, observing him nervously reach for a flask and take a sip, all while keeping his eye on me.
An alcoholic, but one with more control over it than some might presume at first glance. Or perhaps he is simply used to being mildly inebriated in order to assuage his conscience. Either way, he is not a fool.
"I take it you're my new boss then, Your Highness?" he queries, sagging back into his chair, a defeated sigh passing from his lips. Oh that is superb, no need to waste time then.
"Quite. You will be forwarding reports to your previous contact, and he will forward them to me. You'll receive new orders in the future. But for the moment, I want to ask about the fate of your former unit, the W-0, whom is running things in their absence as a special forces unit, and anything else that you think might catch my interest.
Scowling then? This must be quite interesting.
"The W-0 has disbanded. I was reassigned after the commanding officer, Major Leila Malcal, disappeared along with several of our pilots. Most of the support staff was reassigned to other divisions, but some of them went AWOL as well, along with various proprietary technologies of the EU. Probably for some bigwig's black projects."
It would not surprise me in the least if the Black Knights had managed to pillage that technology. Zero's reach seems to be everywhere.
He downs another sip from his flask, shrugging, "As for who's running things? Officially, the Council of Forty. Unofficially? Leila's former boss, General Gene Smilas is almost certainly taking over soon. He had a plan in the works to use her and the W-0 as martyrs, probably working out the official version right now. Hell, he called her his own 'Jeanne d'Arc.' So if you're wondering whether I'm worth keeping on the payroll, hopefully this shows you I'm good for it."
Heh. Heh heh heh heh. What a peculiar individual, I daresay rather like this man.
And there is a distinct possibility that Major Malcal learned of the plot against her and defected to a better employer. Something to watch for in the future.
"Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha..," I chuckle, holding up a glass of shiraz, swirling the drink in my hand, as a smile etches itself onto my lips.
"You amuse me, Lt. Col. Warwick. And you are correct, you are indeed worth retaining. In fact? I shall see your previous arrangement doubled."
Yes, a man this highly placed and loyal to the empire is worth his weight in gold. His handlers in Euro Britannia were fools to discard someone like this. Perhaps Smilas is already aware of his dual loyalty and passing him false information. It matters not. A backdoor channel to the man who will be running Europia is worthwhile enough by itself to justify increasing his payments.
"You are..most generous, Your Highness. Do you need anything else from me at this time?" he mutters in a far more chastised and subdued tone, taking a much smaller pull from his flask before putting it aside.
"Not as such. But rest assured, you have more than proven your worth with what you have told me. Your handler will contact you with further assignments in the future. For now, simply go about your duties and enjoy the company of your daughter when you can. Good night, Lt. Colonel," I answer, letting a genuine smile of gratitude grace my features, enjoying the second unexpected success of the night.
"Bonne nuit, Premier ministre," (Good night, Prime Minister) he declares in a crestfallen voice, likely at the mention of his leverage. A pity as I said, but hardly something I can be faulted for taking advantage of. This is simply part of the messy business of statecraft and Realpolitik.
Nations have no natural ethics or humanity, as my predecessor Lord Bismarck declared many years ago.
Sadly, though I can predict Zero's next move, there is little I can do to counter it. China is closed to outsiders and the Eunuchs are not responding to any entreaties. The entire Federation is in a state of cold war and paranoia.
All of which likely stems from the dying declaration of General Cao proclaiming his loyalty to the Tianzi. Though my knowledge of China's internal politics vis a vis the Forbidden City of Luoyang is limited, the corruption of the Eunuchs is quite well documented. While I have no doubt she has her cadre of supporters?
The commanding officer of an invasion force targeting Area 11 is someone who is extremely unlikely to have been among them.
What puzzles me is how Zero did it. Perhaps he held the man's family hostage, or promised their safety. Or mayhapt his silver tongue persuaded the general to one last act of spite against his masters for sending him on a suicide mission.
Whatever the case is, it succeeded in forcing the Federation off the world stage and away from outside influence. A clever gambit, little brother.
Should China fall, it would be an enormous propaganda coup for him. A miraculous return from the dead for Zero, the takeover of the Chinese Federation, and a clear line of attack to Area 11. Presuming of course, he can quickly consolidate his gains and not have the Federation break apart in the wake of the Eunuch's downfall.
Of course, alternatively, there are other courses he could take. Subverting Europia to his leash, striking at Area 11 directly without worrying about the Chinese, or perhaps some further course I cannot see. But I am reasonably confident that China is his next course of action. After all, it's what I would do in his place.
While I cannot counter him taking the Federation, it is a vast unwieldy thing, one ill-suited to the shadow warfare and rapid movements that Zero prefers. Therefore?
"Therefore dear brother, you have no choice but to strike at Area 11 before it can be fortified. You were underestimated as a threat once. I won't grant you that courtesy a second time."
...Oh damnation.
Fortifying Area 11 is a fool's errand considering that the Viceroy in charge of it's defenses is Luciano Bradley. That blood drunk imbecile will never be convinced of the danger he's in till the lion is outside his very door. Furthermore, tipping my hand on this would push my name into the spotlight and force me to answer various uncomfortable questions. The best I can do is ensure that Pacific fleet assets are nearby to respond, but not even the Prime Minister has authority to demand obedience from a Knight of the Round.
Was this why you put that foul beast there, Father? To give Lelouch a clear path to retake his kingdom? Why?
What is the point of this waste, this senseless destruction, this..this...abject insanity?
…There is something else here. Something I cannot see, but is central to the conflict between father and son. And perhaps this peculiar symbol is at the heart of it.
My fingers trace the lines of the strange crane symbol on my screen, one that was at the ruins at Kaminejima, on the bodies of assassins sent after me, and according to reports from my contacts in OSI, is apparently present in other locations around the world.
Oh my, a rather disturbing epiphany entered my mind just now.
"Perhaps little brother, you have the right idea after a fashion after all..," I muse to myself as I enter the encryption key for a private communication channel, one that I only use for conversations that must absolutely not reach other ears.
Despite the damage Zero has caused and is likely to perpetuate, he may not be wrong about Charles zi Britannia being a false ruler. I wonder…how much truth was there to Zero's accusation that Vincent Victor zi Britannia, my uncle, still lives as Lady Marianne's killer, and that Father knew?
The screen flashes, signaling that the last bit of encryption has finished, the face of my beloved Kanon appearing, his face softening at the sight of me.
"Schneizel? Are you alright, it's the middle of the night."
Oh sweet Kanon, would that you were and we might pass the time in each other's arms. Alas, the call of duty is one both of us must heed.
"I apologize for disturbing your rest. I learned some rather disturbing news, gained some interesting intelligence, acquired the services of a particularly well placed spy, and had the most curious and radical notion pop into my head. After all that, well? I wanted to end the day on at least one happy note."
My better half titters at the compliment, fluttering his eyes at me, "Flatterer. Don't think I'll forgive you that easily for waking me up from my beauty sleep."
Someone is feeling catty~.
"Is that my Shiraz on the table there? Schneizel! You cad!" Kanon exclaims, aghast as he moves and stands up, showing off that he is only clad in a pair of pajama buttons that cling tightly to his body. A delectable sight for the eyes.
"Considering that I found that someone who was very likely the Red Queen was brought to Pendragon by the missing Sir Kururugi and then subsequently vanished along with Millicent Ashford? I would say that among things, that my dreaded brother's imminent return warrants a bit of intoxication, wouldn't you agree?" I say with a hint of cheek, smiling sardonically as I down another glass of Shiraz.
To his credit, Kanon does not flinch at the full magnitude of what I just said. No, he merely sits down, blinking a moment before downing a cup of tea.
"I would dare to hope I misheard you, but given the lateness of the hour I very much doubt I did. I daresay that I may need some libation myself for the remainder of the news from your evening."
The glass twirls in my fingers as my violet eyes peer through the dark red almost purple wine, wondering what unusual and unheard of things will appear on the board next.
"Please do so. I'm certain you'll be quite happier with a touch of alcohol to take the edge off this grisly business. And when you get back with whatever pinch of bottled joy you have chosen, you can tell me how the Toromo Agency's work is progressing."
Two can play this game, Lelouch. You're not the only one who can stack the board in his favor.
