Chapter Two: The Way of Loyalty
Preparations for the coronation of the new Sovereign proceeded apace. Even with the diminished state of the royal house, it was still expected to be a grand affair. Ceremonial garb and ancient imperial rites were inspected and rehearsed, old nobles gathered in the capital in numbers not seen since the reign of Charles zi Britannia, and the populace eagerly awaited the identity of the one who would be their ruler. It was not just an old, highborn ceremony that was being enacted, but a spectacle meant to encapsulate and entrance the nation. For a brief moment, the average Britannian would be able to forget their woes and sing with joy the hymns and oaths of their forefathers.
But behind the glamour and courtly pomp, a different spectacle was being played out. Even if the court made no mention of her assassination, the family of Nunnally vi Britannia had set their most trusted agents on a task with which they were given carte blanche: find the identities of those responsible. Collect any and all information on their assets and loved ones. Infiltrate their staffs. Eliminate them.
As more and more of the aristocracy arrived in Pendragon, this task became more and more simple. The shinobi of the Shinozaki clan were thorough and swift, narrowing down the list of suspects quickly with their skills and placing them under close watch. The royal guards known to be loyal kept their own tabs on their comrades, watching with suspicion those who hinted at misplaced loyalties. No item entered or left the palace without the royal guard having inspected it, and no communication was sent in or out before the Shinozakis had secretly perused it at their leisure. Across the principality, agents were sent to the homes of those who remained suspect, to gather further information and perform early reconnaissance.
At the head of these efforts were Sayoko Shinozaki, an unknown agent of the Crown and a figure who would become vital to Britannia's later intelligence initiatives, and Jeremiah Gottwald, the legendary Orange Knight. One was the head of one of the last surviving shinobi clans of the old Japan, and the other was a Britannian noble who had fought across the globe to conquer in the emperor's name. At first glance both seemed completely different individuals.
But at their core, both of them held one virtue above all others. It defined their lives, their relationships, and their deeds.
Sayoko Shinozaki and Jeremiah Gottwald were both, to their dying breaths, loyal.
Pendragon, April 22nd, 2039 A.T.B.
One facet of the royal funeral and coronation that went unnoticed by the masses were the logistics of hosting the nobles that arrived in Pendragon daily. Since all of them had lost their titles and few had been so lucky as to earn a posting in the post-Purge administration, they no longer had the grand palaces and mansions within Pendragon to reside in on a visit to the capital. It was a cause of some resentment that compensation had not been offered by the Crown after the ascension of Nunnally, but one that was mollified with the return of ancestral lands in their home provinces that had been confiscated by the Liberator.
In the meantime, with the aforementioned lack of accommodations, the Imperial Palace itself had been opened to the old aristocracy as a temporary residence for the duration of the events. More than large enough to handle the sudden influx of guests, it was nonetheless a busy time for the staff. Maids and butlers were rarely not busy with some task, the kitchens were a flurry of constant activity to feed the new mouths, and security worked around the clock to protect (observe) the nobles. Even without their former titles, the old aristocracy was a powerful bloc in Britannian society, able to command much power and resources in their respective home regions. The Crown knew well that they could not carelessly be offended or ignored, hence the extra efforts at accommodation.
In this atmosphere of busybodies and constant work, it was easy for new staff members to appear and disappear without much explanation. The staff were busy, all hands on deck were needed, who cared if that one maid was at a section of the palace they normally weren't? They were doing something, and that was what was important.
The perfect environment for a shinobi to practice their craft.
"I swear, that one baron and his love for liquor…" one of the maids in a washroom said, folding laundry with several others. "If he spills one more glass on the floor I'll be fit to scream!"
"At least he's just got a thing for booze, the count I've been servicing is so creepy. He doesn't even try to hide it when he stares…"
Amongst the servants one of them, a slender woman appearing to have blonde hair and brown eyes, looked over in sympathy. "Do you need me to take your shift again? I can put up with dealing with him for a few hours, and the guards are always just a shout away."
"No, no, it's fine," the woman who had complained about the count replied. "I'll grin and bear it, it's only for a few days. And like you said, if he tries anything the guards'll give him what for."
It was interesting, how much the culture of the serving staff had changed in Britannia over the past two decades. Before the reign of Lelouch, servants were lucky if they had a decent master, and many had heard the horror stories of a lord who was cruel or unscrupulous. It was only with the reign of the Liberator that servants had a way to stand up to an unjust master, what with the abolishment of noble privilege and the establishment of special courts to oversee cases of mistreatment against commoners throughout the empire. It was one of the many reasons for the Britannian people's continued devotion to Lelouch, and this policy's continuation by his sister had engendered her similar good will.
If only that good will had been enough to spare her life.
"You're always trying to be so helpful, Jane," one of the other maids said, her green eyes admiring. "I don't know how you always have so much energy, you're all over the place."
'Jane' just smiled slightly, her face giving nothing away. "There's no secret to it, really. I just make sure to get my eight hours of sleep in, and maybe sneak in a mug of coffee or five."
The maids giggled, but quickly hushed when one of the chief butlers came into the room. He briefly looked over the servants to ensure they were working diligently before turning to Jane.
"Ms. Aberdale, you're needed in the East Wing. There's a small load of laundry that needs tending too."
The mood changed instantly. Some of the maids murmured, a familiar discontent rising in them. It was always Jane that was dragged to some random mess far off on the other side of the palace, and to them it seemed rightly unfair that she be dragged away from her work when there were plenty of servants on that side who could do it themselves. They had tried to voice their complaints a few times, but she always dissuaded them with a smile and assuring words.
"It's my duty to serve, regardless of where that service is needed. Don't worry about me."
Her acceptance of the situation with no complaint only caused their admiration of their fellow servant to rise. She could be trusted, she was an ideal servant (even if they worried about her performing so much work), and in the eyes of many of her 'fellow' staff she was a friend.
It was a masterful deception, really.
Without word, 'Jane' followed the butler out of the room and across the palace, headed towards the East Wing. The only part of the butler's request that was true was their destination, not that he knew that. While her agents among the staff were many, not all of them were spies of the Crown.
Eventually they reached the room that needed tending to, and the butler left with a slightly apologetic look. He too was confused about why 'Ms. Aberdale' specifically had to complete the task, but he knew it was best to just get on with it and see that things were done as efficiently as possible.
The maid entered the room, and after a few glances to insure no one was watching she made her way to the far wall by the bed, which had a pile of dirty laundry on it for good measure. She snorted; that task she most certainly would not be tending to. Her work was of a far more… intensive nature.
With a push of a hidden button the wall slid open, and in an instant the maid was in a hall separate from the network of servants' passages. Once used by the OSI, they now served different masters. Different members of the palace staff made use of these corridors, carrying out their own work. One such person stood in the hall, and when the maid closed the door, he quickly dropped to one knee.
"Sayoko-sama, I bring news."
Sayoko removed her wig and contacts, revealing the black hair and onyx eyes of the Shinozaki clan head. Said eyes were no longer the kind orbs which encouraged the maids, but hard as coal and sharp as a kunai.
"Report, Sparrow," she said, her voice flat.
"This was found in a servant's quarters," he said, holding out a folded piece of paper to his lady. She took it and found it to be a letter. "It appears one of our marks has gotten sloppy."
Sayoko quickly unfolded and read the letter, her face remaining blank as she scanned the contents. When she was finished, her expression had not changed save for her eyes. Where before there had been hard coal there now raged a cold fire, eager to devour.
"I assume this servant has been given special accommodations?" she said finally, her voice still flat.
"Yes, Sayoko-sama," the shinobi said, his eyes not leaving the floor. "Captain Gottwald awaits your presence, and they have already been replaced with a double to avoid suspicion."
"Very good," she said, already turning on her heel. "There is a load of laundry outside, see that it's tended too. We can't have my perfect record be marred, after all."
With purposeful steps the shinobi made her way to the special holding cells that had also once been used by the OSI, the cold fire never leaving her eyes. Within she was ecstatic, jumping for joy and fit to laugh madly.
Justice, she thought to herself, allowing the tiniest of smiles to cross her face. My lady will soon be avenged.
Oh, how she wished to ply her darker crafts upon this miserable wretch, to make them scream in agony and repentance for their crimes. Sayoko's works would carve damnation and shame onto their bodies and into their souls. But not yet.
No, first she had to find out whom this worm served, and orchestrate their downfall as well. Only then would she allow her private desires to be sated.
If Jeremiah hasn't already had some fun with them first, she thought, her smile just a bit wider. At the thought of the cyborg, the faintest blush crossed her cheeks. Perhaps I'll make his favorite after this is done to make up for being so busy.
She pressed on, banishing idle thoughts from her mind. Her only focus was on getting the information she needed, and for that nothing would distract her. After a series of turns and descents down flights of stairs, she reached the detention block used to hold prisoners caught within the palace. They had been unused during Nunnally's reign, the woman being averse the idea of extrajudicial holding cells, but Robert had secretly ordered them to once again be put to use. That wasn't to say that he had ordered a mass incarceration of any suspicious persons, but they would make a fine area to hold any suspects without alerting their puppet masters.
With a swift gait and a steady smile she entered the cell block, coming to stand next to the one that occupied one Jeremiah Gottwald's attention. He gave no outward expression of hostility save for his clenched jaw and narrowed eyes, like hers burning with the ardent fires of righteous vengeance. She stepped beside him without a word.
On the other side of the bullet-proof glass she could see a woman wearing the uniform of a palace maid. She sat dejectedly, blonde hair falling around her head and hiding her face. No bonds were placed upon her, not that they were needed. Between the Knight of Orange and the Shinozaki clan head, not to mention the three shinobi which kept watch on the cell block at all times, this area was more than secure.
"She hasn't said anything concrete as of yet," Jeremiah said without preamble, though she noticed the softening of his eyes when he looked at her. "She hasn't denied the accusations made against her either. If anything, she seems resigned but doesn't want to say what everyone is thinking out loud."
"Most prisoners believe they can hold out if they have a small amount of faith," Sayoko replied, not worried about keeping her voice down. The maid wouldn't hear their conversation unless they desired it. "The trick is that they prepare themselves for a harsh and brutal interrogation. They try to make themselves hard and unbreakable, like steel."
"But you don't intend to go that route, do you?" Jeremiah said, a knowing look in his eye.
"No," she drawled, her smile far too pleasant. "Why break steel when you can wither it away with rust?"
With that she opened the door to the cell, her footsteps hardly audible and her expression pleasantly placid. Like a proper maid.
Sayoko stood before Robert in one of the many private lounges scattered throughout the palace. It was early morning, and even many of the servants had yet to wake. Sayoko herself had gotten maybe two hours of sleep after the interrogation, which had lasted well past midnight. She stood at attention alongside Jeremiah, not bothered in the least by something as trivial as fatigue.
For his part Robert held the report she had made, facing towards the ceiling-to-floor window which dominated the far wall. The sun was only just beginning to rise, and it framed his rather tall body clad in a dark blue suit. The Sovereign-to-be hardly moved as he read through the papers in his hands, and neither of his retainers so much as twitched as they waited for him to finish. They served at his leisure, and if he wished for time to contemplate in silence before dismissing them then they might as well enjoy the quiet.
Finally he turned from the window to face them, his amber eyes glinting in the low light. Sayoko privately thought those eyes were beautiful; they were bright and vibrant with the spark of the young man's intelligence and ambition. She stood slightly straighter at her lord's attention, awaiting his words.
"Excellent work finding this so quickly," he said, allowing a smile of approval to cross his face. "I will admit, I was not expecting results this soon. But it is foolish to question unexpected boons."
"We are unworthy of your praise," Sayoko said, bowing her head slightly. "I only regret I was unable to extract a name; whomever this woman was working for is cautious."
"Even so, we have secured suitable leads," Robert said, placing the report on a coffee table. He once again turned to the window to watch the sunrise. "I understand that not all of the correspondence between this woman and her benefactor were destroyed before she was found out. Handwriting can be compared, money can be traced, and even the style of writing can be analyzed for patterns and indications of personality. It is only a matter of time now."
Sayoko and Jeremiah nodded in agreement. The clock was certainly ticking in their favor now that they had this lead to follow.
"I've also come to the conclusion that there was no treachery from within the Royal Guard," Jeremiah said, glancing at his own report laying next to Sayoko's. "If there is anything that can be held against them for the Sovereign's death, it is that they were not more vigilant against threats such as this. I've already impressed upon them that such lapses won't be tolerated in the future, and I've also taken the liberty of having some of the Shinozaki agents train them in counter-espionage tactics."
"Very good," Robert said. "Your initiative does you credit, Jeremiah. And you, Sayoko. While the threat is not yet past, you have both helped to put my mind at ease. My only request is that you continue to show such results. Thank you."
The two retainers bowed before exiting the room. As the door closed behind them they continued down the hall.
"Honestly, Jerry," Sayoko said, her smile teasing. "Forcing the stepchildren into the same room together and not letting me know until the last minute? If I didn't know better, I'd say you thought it was better to ask forgiveness instead of permission."
"It wasn't my intent to keep you in the dark," Jeremiah said, scratching his head. "I've been so busy between my investigations and ensuring that security is up to par for the ceremonies that it honestly slipped my mind to let you know."
"I know," Sayoko said, keeping her smile. "The Shinozakis live to serve the vi Britannias. If it improves that service, then I will welcome it. And besides, you have just as much pull within the clan as I. You are my consort after all."
"All the same, you're the clan head. I'll make sure to inform you properly next time," Jeremiah said as they stopped at an intersection. "I need to make my rounds, see that the nobles aren't too comfortable. See you tonight?"
"Of course," Sayoko said, leaning up to give Jeremiah a small kiss. "I'll let you know if I find anything in the meantime. We will have our vengeance soon, my love."
Jeremiah nodded, grinning fiercely as he turned to depart. Sayoko watched him go for a moment before walking off to see to her own tasks.
Pendragon, April 24th, 2039 A.T.B.
A small banquet was being hosted for the nobles that had arrived, to tide them over while the ceremonies were still being prepared. There were still a few days until the funeral, and even more until the coronation ceremony. In that time, the guests needed to be entertained and distracted. Especially from the fact that the heir had yet to show themselves. Jeremiah did not envy Zero and William, who were almost constantly being pestered for any information regarding the future of the Crown. After they were offered condolences for the passing of the Sovereign, of course. The cyborg subtly made note of the nobles who had not immediately approached the prince-consort, taking special notice of those who glared in his direction.
While such was not an indicator of suspicion on its own (quite a few Britannians on all levels of society were scandalized when they learned the Sovereign had married Lelouch the Liberator's executioner) Jeremiah knew that nothing could be left to chance with the aristocracy. While he did not know Robert and Emeline's plans for them, he did know that they intended to clean house before making use of the nobles. If he could be of even a little assistance, Jeremiah would give every ounce of his effort.
"Fancy seeing you here, Orange Boy!" a jovial voice called out, and Jeremiah twitched as he turned to address the source. "It's been ages since I saw you last!"
"We met not even a month ago, Lord Weinberg," Jeremiah said more evenly. "I recall you saying the exact same thing on that occasion as well, and at the meeting before that."
"Ah, I suppose so. I do lose track of the time so easily these days," Gino Weinberg said, grinning sheepishly. He had aged well since the days of Zero's insurrection, having only grown more impressive in his stature while retaining his energetic disposition. His blue eyes still shone like the sky, and his blonde hair was still done in that wild style he preferred. These days he wore a suit (for this occasion he was dressed in the mourning black like everyone else) instead of a uniform of a Knight of the Round. "Can't be helped when I have nothing to do aside from look after the estate."
"True enough, though you said that at our last meeting as well," Jeremiah said, before giving a shallow bow to the blonde man's companion. "Lady Weinberg, it is a pleasure as always."
"The pleasure is mine, Lord Gottwald." Setsuko Weinberg said as she gave a curtsey. Unlike her husband, the Lady Weinberg was far more composed and formal. Normally dressed in one of her beloved kimonos, she had opted for a western dress out of respect for her hosts and the fact that some of the nobles would not take so kindly to the additional reminder of her Japanese heritage. Jeremiah found her to be one of the most pleasant ladies of the aristocracy to talk to, owing to her down-to-earth attitude. While quite a few circles found her marriage to Gino Weinberg to be scandalous and unfathomable, Jeremiah thought it was a good match. Even if she was not of noble blood herself, having been one of the household servants of the previous Lord Weinberg when Gino met her, Setsuko kept her husband on a steady course and reined him in when necessary. She provided a respectable and firm compass for the House Weinberg. More than could be said for some of the noble ladies that to this day snubbed her.
"Oh, and is that young Frederick?" Jeremiah asked, noticing the couple's son. "I see the academy is treating you well."
Standing slightly behind and between his parents was the heir of the House Weinberg, Frederick Weinberg. He had largely inherited his mother's features and calm personality, but he did possess his father's impressive build. Dressed in the parade uniform of an academy cadet, the young man cut a dashing figure. The cyborg suspected quite a few women were smitten with him, though he knew the young man was too chivalrous to take advantage of that.
"I started last Fall, Lord Gottwald," Frederick said, snapping off a crisp salute which Jeremiah waved off with some amusement. "Your recommendation was extremely helpful. My teachers say I might be cut out as an infantry officer."
"Were these better days, you would cut a fine figure as a knightmare pilot," Jeremiah said ruefully. "Regardless, I'm certain you'll do your family and the Crown proud."
"He already does as far as his family is concerned," Gino said, beaming at his son. He turned back to Jeremiah. "So, does this shindig have any beer? I'm going to need at least two if I have to schmooze."
"Dear, please don't refer to a royal banquet as a shindig," Setsuko said with exasperation. "Honestly, one would think you used to be the common servant and not the other way around. I saw some servers with wine earlier."
"Well we'd better track one down then! Come on Freddy, your last test results have earned you a drink with your old man!" Gino said, his words coming out faster than most would have been able to process as he dragged his son by the arm. Said son shared his mother's fond exasperation as he was dragged along.
"I'd better make sure he doesn't traumatize someone," Lady Weinberg said, quickly curtsying to Jeremiah. "Again, it was a pleasure, Lord Gottwald. You have my family's thanks for the assistance given to our son. Until we meet again."
And with that Jeremiah was once again alone. Shaking his head at the antics of the former Knight of Three, Jeremiah resumed his vigil of the hall. Little had changed. Off to the side he could see the former Duke of California chatting with the Count of Niagra, and if his enhanced hearing was right the Baron of Atlanta was telling a particularly dirty joke to his son, who laughed loudly. It was almost enough to take him back to the days of his youth, when he was but a young guardsman fresh out of the academy. Nobles mingled and conversed, some already establishing dialogues and deals like the old days when they'd still officially held power.
And one or more of them might be Lady Nunnally's killer, Jeremiah thought with a frown. He had yet to year any hushed conversations indicating that one of the people in this room might be suspect, but he doubted the culprits were stupid enough to talk about it here of all places. No, if they were going to discuss it in the palace it would be away from watchful eyes and ears. Though few such places in the palace existed now what with the Shinozakis constantly maintaining a vigil for any hint of treachery.
The patter of hurried footsteps sounded behind him, and Jeremiah turned to see a guardsman approaching. Noticing the man's tense posture, he met him halfway. "What is it?"
"Lord Gottwald," the guard said, not even pausing to salute. "You need to come with me. We've found something in the loading area."
Jeremiah nodded, not bothering with questions as he let the guardsman lead him out from the ballroom (after informing the sergeant-at-arms of where he was going) towards where this find had been made. They quickly made their way to their destination, the sight of the Captain of the Guard in a hurry more than enough to convince people to make way. Within minutes, Jeremiah was greeted with the sight of multiple guardsmen inspecting the boxes that had been in the process of being unloaded from a food truck. He noted the terrified driver being held at gunpoint in a chair off to the side.
"We only found it by chance, My Lord," the guardsman said as he led Jeremiah over to one box in particular. Another was standing over it, taking inventory. "We've found at least five others like this one."
Jeremiah wasted no time in looking into the box, and was rewarded with the sight of multiple assault rifles, the old Grumman R-15s that were used by the much-reduced Provincial Guards these days. He picked one up and inspected it, and from a glance at the serial number he could tell it had come from one of the armories in Pennsylvania.
The former Duke of Pennsylvania was one of the first to arrive, he mused as he returned the rifle to its place, turning to look at the truck driver. And if my memory serves, he is distantly related to the Imperial family through his maternal grandmother.
Even if the origin of the weapons didn't mean that the Duke was the one behind this, their presence still had disturbing implications. The fact that they had been shipped directly to the palace suggested that the conspirators still had men on the inside. Men who they trusted to fight when the time came. This find only proved that time was short.
But I know that the Guards are loyal. Have I missed something?
"You there!" he bellowed as he marched up to where the truck driver was being kept. The man flinched at his voice, and his terror only seemed to grow the closer Jeremiah approached. "What do you know of this?"
"I swear, m'lord, I didn't have an inkling!" he half-sobbed, throwing himself from the char to Jeremiah's feet. "I'm j-just a truck driver, I don't k-k-know what's going on!"
"Surely you know who put these boxes in the truck," Jeremiah growled, heaving the man up by his collar and looking him in the eye. "Where was this truck loaded? Who handled it?"
"We have the manifest here, My Lord," a guardsman spoke up, and Jeremiah was quick to drop the man back into his chair in exchange for the manifest. Ignoring the driver's sobbing, he looked over the information. Before long he had found where the truck had been loaded, and more importantly who that warehouse belonged to.
"Sergeant," he called out, said guard snapping to attention at his rank. "Have all of the weapons here catalogued, I want every bullet accounted for. Once you're done, find a way to move it all to the palace armory discreetly. Make sure you keep this quiet."
"Yes, My Lord!" the sergeant said, before pausing. "And the driver?"
Jeremiah looked back at the still sobbing man, briefly curling his lip in disgust at the man's lack of spine. Though, he supposed as a civilian the man wasn't exactly prepared for these sorts of situations. "We'll put him in the special area for now, let the Shinozakis have a crack at him. Though, do inform them to not be too harsh. He might be innocent in this matter after all."
"As you wish, My Lord," the sergeant said with another salute. Jeremiah handed him the manifest and made to leave the loading area. Before he exited, though, he paused. "Oh, and sergeant? Make sure your men inspect their combat gear after this is done. It might be time to look at the engagement plans early this month."
With that he walked out, the guardsmen in the room becoming grim at his words. The driver looked at his watchers, confused. "W-what does he mean by that?"
One of them grinned cheerfully, his gun not moving a millimeter from where it was pointed at the driver's chest. "Count yourself lucky mate, you might witness the first attack on the palace in generations. You're gonna be part of history!"
Atlanta, April 25th, 2039 A.T.B.
The city of Atlanta had long been a hub of the Southeast. First as an industrial hub and now as a major commercial center, the city served as a focal point for business within the former Duchy of Georgia and beyond. Even in these hard times, businessmen gathered in the city to make deals and expand their horizons.
The cities past a major hub of business meant that the suburbs were much desired by said businessmen and former nobles who wished to make their way here. It was not uncommon to find gated communities open to those who could afford them, each house offering more than enough comfort. These neighborhoods were not quite as lived in as they had once been, but they still existed. Many houses had fallen into neglect from lack of owners, and squatters and ne'er-do-wells had found their own uses for them.
A true sign of status and wealth, however, was if one could claim to live in one of the area's famed plantation homes. Rarely owned by someone outside of the aristocracy, even today, these estates were the dream of everyone who tried to make their way in Atlanta. Even if such a dream was beyond reach for many, those that could claim to live in one were considered at the pinnacle of success and meant to be emulated.
There was one home in particular. Nestled away from the rest amongst bountiful forests, it was one of the only buildings in the area. Once the home of the Duke of Georgia before he had been killed in the purges, it now hosted the dead man's nephew since he had died childless. It was a typical example of a Southern plantation home, the only difference being that it was supremely ostentatious when compared to the rest. The neo-classical columns were embroidered with rococo designs and the windows and doors were all gilded. Finely trimmed hedges filled with roses lined the lawn, and if one looked, they circled around the house towards the back where a garden was most likely kept. A single paved path led up to the estate from the gate, which was under guard. Much like the gate, guardsmen patrolled the grounds, watchful for any intruders. The entire area was surrounded by a ring of trees, cut down so that for ten yards past the hedges there was no cover for any would-be assailants to hide behind.
Most assailants, however, weren't members of the Shinozaki Clan.
She had been observing the estate for five days now. She had noted the patrol patterns long ago, and had made every effort to discover the routine of the estate. It had been painfully easy. The head of the estate, who would have been Duke if not for the aristocracy's abolishment, liked to go riding in his woods every single day at seven o'clock sharp. The lady of the estate took her tea, Darjeeling, in the Western parlor at ten o'clock without fail. She preferred it with milk. The daughter usually joined her mother, taking her tea, Earl Grey, with sugar. The daughter would immediately run off after tea to ostensibly practice her riding with the assistance of one of the servants. They were actually using it as cover for their relationship, which would likely see the servant beaten and cast out if they were discovered.
The family usually enjoyed a light lunch around one o'clock before the father would sit in his study for a few hours. The mother would walk the gardens, gossiping with one of her acquaintances if she could. The daughter would once again go to her beau to fantasize about running away together. At seven thirty they would sit down for dinner, treating any guests they might have over that day. It was not unusual for the table to be loaded down with finely cooked meats and vegetables alongside delicate sweets and cakes. The family did well for themselves, owing to the head of the estate's ownership of multiple shipping businesses in the duchy. There were quite a few Britannians who would count themselves lucky to have even one of those platters grace their table. She'd made sure to have one of her fellows look into these businesses to see if any evidence of treachery might be found there. So far, they had found nothing, but they had yet to finish the search.
For her part, the shinobi known as Kusanagi had resolved that it was time to investigate the estate more thoroughly, especially the study. Most likely, whatever she wanted would be found there.
She was fortunate; the family had departed for Pendragon earlier this day, taking quite a few servants and guardsmen with them. While there were certainly enough left behind to adequately look after the home, the lack of additional eyes and the cover of darkness would make her task easy.
With that in mind, it was time to get started.
Taking a breath, she dashed out from the tree line towards the hedges. The pattern of patrols on this side of the estate was the weakest, but not out of total neglect seeing as there wasn't a single ground level entrance in this particular area. Nonetheless, she had resolved to enter here. Swift and silent as a wraith a lithe figure covered in black dove over the hedge, tucking in her legs and rolling once before coming up at the wall of the home. She looked left and right, keeping track of the seconds before a guard came around the corner.
Eight seconds.
With fluid movements she withdrew a grapple hook attached to a rope. Making a few calculations, she quickly found her angle and tossed the hook. It sailed through the air before landing and catching on the edge of the roof-top railing. The guards didn't cover the roof, so there was no risk of it being found. Tugging to make sure it was secure, Kusanagi quickly made her way up the wall. Reaching the second floor, she tried the window and found it to be unlocked. She slid inside, pulling up the rope and cutting it before stowing the loose length. As she closed the window softly, a guard walked around the corner, his flashlight shining.
The study was on the second floor of the Western side of the estate. She was on the North side. She had entered through a window lining the outer hallway. With what little light there was she could make out a few busts and paintings lining the hall. Several doors lined the wall to either side of her. She quickly turned and made her way to the West side, creeping silently and wary of any wondering servants.
There were few up at the late hour, but those that were she avoided. Were this a typical spy thriller, there would have been a close call where she was only saved from being exposed by a convenient distraction. As it was, she never once risked detection. There were a few whispered conversations that her instincts begged her to listen in on, but she pressed ahead. Silence and darkness were her allies, and she knew how to use them well. Before long, she was standing outside of the door to the study.
She tried the handle, but this time it was locked. Frowning, she quickly pulled out a lock pick and set to work. It was a simple matter to pick the lock, and in a flash, she was inside the study and had shut the door behind her. Not waiting, she made her way to the desk to begin her search. There were large oaken bookshelves going from floor to ceiling on either side, but she ignored them. They wouldn't hold what she sought.
She rifled through the drawers first, hoping to find any papers or a journal. While there a few interesting finds, none of them were what she needed, so she quickly turned to the computer. Powering it on, she saw that it required a password. Kusanagi pulled out a flash drive and plugged it in, waiting for the device to do its work. She didn't need to wait long.
With the computer opened, she quickly began looking for documents and emails. Anything that might point her in the right direction of her mark. What Kusanagi found, however, was far more than a simple lead.
Jackpot, as the Britannians say, she thought to herself. Not only had she found a lead, but a full blown list of names, including several very prominent former nobles with some relation to the Imperial Family. Better yet, the head of the estate had been so careless as to leave notes of various plans and contingencies for the conspiracy, including the very poison used to kill the Sovereign and a plan to sell the others out to the government if he deemed it necessary. It was a foolish move on the man's part to leave all of this here, but his foolishness was her masters' gain. Quickly, she began copying the documents onto a separate thumb drive.
While the files downloaded, she took in more of the study, particularly the portrait on the wall opposite the desk detailing the current head of the estate in ducal finery. She snorted at the pretension of the man. Before long the only finery he would know would be the rags he wore to his execution. He did have good taste in books, if nothing else. She spied a finely bound copy of War and Peace alongside a worn copy of Ivanhoe. There were multiple histories and biographies of great men on the shelves, but she ignored them in favor of tossing a kunai while she waited. Through the windows behind the desk, the night sky was dark and nearly starless.
Eventually, the download finished. Removing the flash drive and tucking it away in one of her pouches, the shinobi powered down the computer and made for the door. She froze when she heard a key turning in the lock, and saw the handle beginning to turn. The door opened, and in walked a maid with a feather duster. She looked around before deciding to start with one of the bookshelves.
From behind the door, Kusanagi calmed her racing heart before she made sure that the maid was focused on her task before slipping out from the room. Her footfalls were a whisper. It was fortunate that the maid hadn't bothered shutting the door behind her. Deciding that one close call was enough for the night she swiftly retraced her steps, making sure to be especially vigilant for any night owls. Eventually, she made it back to the same window she had entered through. Softly opening the window, she once again drew out the rope she had used to scale the wall. Reaching out, she tied it in a knot with the length still hanging from the grappling hook. She waited for a guard to pass below, and once they had turned the corner, she made her way back down. Tugging swiftly, the hook came free and plunged to the ground. Tucking the rope and hook away she swiftly dove once again over the hedge and sprinted for the tree line. As she hid behind a tree, she saw a guard's flashlight peer into the woods. She sat still, not daring to breathe, but before long the light moved off as the guard continued his rounds. With an exhale of relief, she made her way to the forest, eventually returning to her camp.
For the shinobi known as Kusanagi, it was another job finished.
Author's Note: Afternoon everyone, I hope you're all doing alright during this pandemic. I pray it is over swiftly. And that the Federal government gets its head out of its ass.
But enough of that. This chapter was more a matter of necessity; I don't prefer writing subterfuge and spy work myself, but needs must. Though, I will never say no to writing the best girl and best boy of Code Geass, Sayoko Shinozaki and Jeremiah Loyalty Gottwald.
Drawing up the Britannian aristocracy has been... interesting. It's strange since they're in this limbo; on the one hand their official power is gone, but they still have their own resources to fall back upon. The closest comparison I can think of are the French emigres under Napoleonic France and the Bourbon restoration. Though unlike the emigres, these nobles still have a bit of teeth, if not brains.
Also, I've decided to start keeping track of the dates which each scene takes place in. If there is no date attached to a scene, assume it takes place in the same day as the previous scene.
A reviewer expressed concern that this story was going to focus heavily on warfare and conflict. It most certainly will, but it will also focus on the build up to that conflict and how the major players tread the path to get there. Half the fun of writing a war story is when you write the build up to the war itself; there's a thrilling air of uncertainty as everyone tries to figure out who's who before the shooting starts. There's a reason European diplomacy in the 1900s and 1910s is studied almost as much as WWI itself.