Chapter 20: Then a Wave of Flames

To all those who can hear me, my friends, my family, my countrymen, I ask that you listen. I do not condone violence for it is a measure of last resort. It is with a heavy heart, that I find myself coming to you because Britannia does not share our beliefs. Britannia serves only the Emperor and not its citizens.

The city of Truro... 10,000 dead by a Britannian air strike.

Why should we accept the Emperor's rule, when we're mere disposable pawns?

10,000 dead! Children, mothers, and fathers. All dead because of the blind judgment of one man!

I will not tolerate such injustice any longer. If we wish to survive, for our children to thrive, and for justice to look at all men equally, we must fight! Fight for our freedom. Fight for our independence. Fight for our survival.

And to those who will cower in their homes, may I remind you, Britannia annihilated Truro for one man. There will never be peace as long as we bow our heads. The fight for freedom, liberty, happiness never ended. Our ancestors simply passed the torch to us. We have let the flame dwindle, but we can tend to it once more. Let the fires of justice burn brightly and rid our land of royal filth.

—Launch of the Count's Crows (May 28, 2012)

Fort Necessity, Pennsylvania

Marianne watched Bismarck step outside of the room and began to close the door. Phantom pain from her legs flared again and a sleepless night weighed on her eyes. There was no respite for her aching body. Duty simply called. The entire disaster in Truro was beyond her control... And then the argument with Lelouch. He had been right. She was a terrible mother. Even on the day that she had set aside for her two children, work called. Her phone rang again and she flipped it open to stare at the called id.

"Charles," she curtly replied. "Did you tell Lelouch he was a pawn? And tell him he was only alive... because he's your son?"

Her husband sighed. "I may have misspoken."

"Misspoke?" Her fits clenched and she glared at the phone. "How are you so inept at this? You don't tell a child—"

"—Your son is twelve."

"My son?" Marianne took a deep breath. "He is our son. Not one of your subjects, not someone who works for you, and not a piece on the board for you-know-what. And you don't tell your son that you would have killed him if he wasn't. And to make things clear: he is still a child. I should have never let him join the military."

"He is not going to accept an apology from me, so this matter is moot. Onto why I called—"

"Unless you're here to tell me how to fix the Truro situation, or have found the massive idiot who ordered the strike, I don't have time. I have an OSI agent to kill." She had seen Lelouch's splinted finger. Sergeant Malfoire must have been responsible. Lelouch had been too scared and protective of Nunnally for the man not to be dangerous. If she couldn't physically be there for her son, she could at least clear the way for him. Anyone who dared to hurt her child would face the consequences.

Hesitantly, Charles confirmed, "An OSI agent? Are you sure?"

Marianne rolled her eyes. "Of course not. I haven't had time to double check. But he has the same stupid look: the one that makes you feel like you're already on their operating table. Now, if you want to stop wasting my time?"

"I called because of our son," Charles shot back.

Her anger abated slightly. Charles was trying. Calmer, she asked, "What is it?"

"Lelouch is being deployed."

Her heart plummeted. Not her child. She couldn't lose him... and if it was now, then,... She whispered, "Area Two?"

"Yes. The 712th Division—"

"No!" She would not allow it. She would rather compromise all her effort in rebuilding a relationship with her children, than allow Lelouch there. "He's not a Number!"

"Technically, there are no Numbers in the military."

Honorary Britannians or Numbers. It really made no difference to Marianne. Her son would not be surrounded by such lazy backstabbing filth. If anyone found out Lelouch was a prince... His throat would be slit within the middle of the night. Not to mention the relationship he had claimed with that boy. The boy had cheated and made Lelouch choose him over her. If Lelouch returned to an environment filled with numbers, he would be filled with even more foolish and dangerous thoughts.

Growling into the phone, she said, "You will change those deployment orders or I will pull Lelouch out of the military and he can attend school with Nunnally and you... you will not interfere."

"I cannot do that Marianne," and only the worried tone kept her from immediately snapping back, "if it was just that, I would have already changed them and dealt with whoever ordered them in the first place."

Impatient and tired of excuses, she snapped, "But?"

"The orders were changed an hour after the attack in Truro. Originally, he was slated for communications. Whoever changed the orders left no trace of the original and despite my resources, I haven't been able to find the culprit."

Marianne leaned back in her wheelchair and stared at the small winding crack on the ceiling. "And this means?"

Charles was quiet for a moment. "You were right to allow Lelouch to join the military. While we never managed to discover the extent of Lord Siebenberg's treachery due to his...untimely death, there is a plot. One of my agents checked. Every new recruit by the name of Lelouch has been deployed to a death assignment. The younger and better their grades are, the more deadly their assignment is."

No. Not again. She could feel the bullets ripping through her body and the sheer terror when she realized that V.V. had sent someone after her two angels. "Someone is trying to assassinate Lelouch."

"Yes."

The phone creaked within her hands. Everything was falling to pieces around her. She was an Empress now. Not a little girl piloting a knightmare and avoiding the attention of other sneering nobles. But in the end, despite all the power she now wielded, she was completely helpless to save her son. "The assassin doesn't know who Lelouch is. They're guessing. You can't interfere."

Was she simply choosing the way her son would die: by chance as he fought against terrorists, or in the dead of the night by a blade? At least, Marianne thought as she swallowed, the former gave her son a minuscule chance. But it was hard. She couldn't tell him.

"I know Marianne," Charles whispered. "We can't be seen as doing anything. If we even look worried, well, they'll know and just kill them all directly. I have... an agent keeping an eye on Lelouch. They'll keep him safe."

Marianne narrowed her eyes. "The OSI agent?"

"No. But don't kill him. It will leave a trail and someone will eventually realize the woman in the wheelchair with atrocious blond hair is Empress Marianne... Did you know Lelouch lied about his eye color? Says they are dark blue in his file."

She blinked. "They're very much purple. Why?"

"A couple months ago. A twelve year old minor noble with purple eyes, black hair, and stellar grades suffered an unfortunate accident. On paper they resemble Lelouch quite well. A month afterwards, it was a sixteen year old noble who worked with Lord Ashford's disinherited son. Also stellar grades, black hair, and purple eyes. Our little assassin has been busy for quite a while. Our son's little lie and failing grades saved his life."

"What do you mean failing grades?"

Charles sighed. "Marianne. Nobody cares about his grades. No one ever will either. And he is just failing fencing although his history grades could use some work."

Taking a mental step back, Marianne conceded. Lelouch's grades weren't the primary concern. His survival was. And if she couldn't kill the OSI agent, then she was going to give her son the best chance he had to fight back. It was the least she could do... after everything. "Should I tell Lelouch?"

A long deliberating pause. "No. He is just twelve. The constant fear... it never helped V.V. or myself. Lelouch actually seems to be making friends and Odysseus said something about that being important. I'm afraid Odysseus is about to start one of his little crusades again. Hopefully Schneizel will stop him before the army mutinies because of his interference."

Despite the tension, Marianne shook her head in amusement. "Odysseus, for all his faults, is stubborn. He has to be, to deal with Schneizel all the time."

"How they ever became close, I will never understand," murmured Charles. Speaking more clearly, he continued, "I need you to publicly appear near Truro this evening. It should be a spectacle. Make sure nobody can connect you with Lelouch's mother. We're also pushing forward our attack on the Philippines. Nobody will expect it."

The call ended and Marianne would obey. Whatever personal feelings she had over invading another country while their backyard burned, did not matter. That had been an order from the Emperor, not her husband. She would have to cut her time with her daughter and son short. Biting her lip, she considered Nunnally's safety. Charles hadn't mentioned any targeted attacks against her, but there was always a possibility. She would send Bismarck with Nunnally. It wasn't safe for a blind girl to travel alone anyway.

Marianne rolled up to the door and knocked. The door opened and the probable OSI agent entered, followed by Bismarck. The door clicked shut. The blond man glanced around the room nonchalantly and his eyes settled on the phone in her clenched fist. She narrowed her eyes at him. He had dared to hurt her son but stood in the room without a care. It took gall to stare at a mother's face shamelessly. She would make him pay once he served his purpose.

The agent bowed deeply. "Your majesty. What an unexpected pleasure. Warrant Officer York of the OSI."

Bismarck took a half step forward, his hand grasping the sword hidden by his cloak.

"What gave it away?" Marianne asked coldly.

The man straightened and she could feel the arrogance roll off of him. "I heard you say Charles before the door closed. I admit that quite a few puzzle pieces have slotted into place."

She narrowed her eyes. "Then you realize the consequences for your actions? You're quite nonchalant for a dead man."

The man had the audacity to shrug. "If I die, I die. If I live, I live. Of the two, life is much harder to navigate. The question is simply what you'll choose your majesty? I broke his highness's finger after all."

Marianne's glare deepened. There was no doubt anymore. He had dared to hurt her son. Did she truly need him? A simple accident and he would disappear from everyone's mind to trouble no one again. Charles had been explicit. She couldn't kill him for her son's safety. Another question nagged at her mind. If things had become so tense between Lelouch and this agent, why hadn't her son used the code. Charles had given Lelouch the code to avoid exactly this type of a situation. Why hadn't her son used it? Would he rather break his bones than rely on his parents? She scowled. "Bismarck. Break his wrist."

York's eyebrows raised and to his credit, he didn't step back as Bismarck lunged forward and pinned his hand. There was a small crack and Marianne watched York's face as it contorted in pain. It wasn't enough, but for now, it would sate her thirst for revenge on her son's behalf. She smiled sweetly and rolled the wheelchair closer, enjoying his eyes widening and the slight rise in his shoulders. He wasn't as calm as he wished. Good.

"A simple accident. Just like my son's finger. Isn't that right?"

Moving his hand slowly, he straightened. "Had a nasty stumble and failed to catch myself properly."

"Good," Marianne praised him. If he was the leak that led to the assassin, then she could kill him and find the perpetrators. There would be no need for games. "Why were you stationed here?"

"Standard rotation your majesty. I have been stationed here for four years." He looked at her squarely in the eyes. "What do you require from me your majesty?"

Marianne fist tightened. The timeline meant that he hadn't been stationed to spy on her son for V.V. Unfortunately, there was nothing to indicate that he was the leak. In fact, judging from his keen interest in her son and the fact that Lelouch had only been questioned and not arrested... "Stop trying to recruit my son into the OSI."

A small frown on York's face flickered by.

"From now on, you serve me. You will run all reports by me first before sending them off to the OSI. If the Director ever contacts you, you will avoid saying anything about Lelouch. If he asks explicitly, you will do your best to divert his attention. Then you will contact me immediately." Marianne took a deep breath. That would help mitigate V.V. if he ever began to show interest in Lelouch. "You will pull in whatever favors you have, and follow my son when he is deployed."

York smiled and his eyes gleamed. "Already done your majesty. The 712th always causes so much trouble anyway. The OSI was thrilled to have someone show interests. I do admit that I had been hoping his original deployment orders to communications had gone through. I had to pull quite a few strings for a student so abysmal at history."

Marianne scowled at the mention of history. Her son had always had a deep fascination for the subject. His failure was a disservice to himself and she was going to... Well, writing a letter was probably useless. Shaking her head slightly, she turned her attention back to York. "If you harm a hair on my son's head, a broken finger will be the least of your concerns. The Emperor would be most displeased."

Finally, she got a reaction. His face paled slightly and Marianne gloated. She, unlike her foolish son, was quite capable of wielding Charles's power as a weapon. Everyone knew to fear Charles and his army of shadows that rose to his bidding. The unspeakables that served Charles and by extension, Marianne, were unquestionably loyal. Any traitorous thoughts could be rewritten to make the unspeakables into the perfect tool, such was the power of Charles's geass. Not that the general population knew that. They just knew those who drew the Emperor's ire would simply disappear. Everyone had a weakness. Even York.

Marianne tilted her head slightly. "You will make sure that my son stays alive."

Still slightly pale, he nodded. "Of course your majesty. I will die before I let him be harmed."

"Good you understand perfectly," because failure would invite a fate worse than death. She turned to Bismarck. "I need to get to the airport. Afterwards, you will make sure to accompany Nunnally back home and, if I am still busy, you will bring her back to school when the break ends."

"But the Emperor," Bismarck tried to protest.

Marianne rolled her eyes and patted the small gun hidden at her side. "I am perfectly capable of protecting myself against minor threats. I will explain on my way."

Quebec, Area 2

Brigit, dressed in white robes and with a fake mustache, addressed the assembled crowd clearly. Their ferocious eyes watched her carefully, but she knew their hearts yearned for actions. Everyone had known directly, or indirectly, someone in Truro. They had never considered such violence fathomable, and they responded with primal instincts. Graffiti covered the walls and planks barricaded windows. The glass shards became their own symphony as feet blasted them to smithereens.

Her keen eyes spotted a Britannian soldier pressed against the wall. He was trying to hide behind the dumpster, but the muzzle of his gun flashing under the unforgiving sun, gave him away. He was smart. He knew the mob was thirsting for revenge and meaning in the new confusing world she had introduced them to. In time, she would mold their raging inferno into a cold deadly sword.

She stepped away from the podium as Art alerted her to the approaching forces that some lord had finally been able to put together. The sun was slowly beginning to descend and the flames of the sunset rose on the horizon. It was distinctly appropriate and Brigit turned to the approaching forces in their fast knightmare frames. They thought they were safe, but she knew those frames.

Her hand swung out as the knightmare rounded the corner with its rifle aimed high and bullets already tearing through the sky. So typical. Gathering the necessary outrage, she shouted so the world could hear, "See our oppressors. They use not words but bullets when we voice our concerns. To them, we have no use! We're replaceable. Cogs in a machine."

The moron in the knightmare finally realized that he should be aiming at the self-proclaimed count instead of the sky and the rifle swung around to point at her. She laughed. Letting it echo through the buildings.

"Britannia will claim I am a terrorist. But," she swung out her arms and pointed at the knightmare and the cracking street beneath its feet and the street slowly filling up, "these are the true terrorists. They bomb our towns. They destroy our streets. Our homes," a shingle struck the ground as if to emphasize her point, "Our lives. This is the true Britannia! The world hears us. The world sees us. So I ask you Britannia, will you fire on an unarmed man!"

A slightly nicer knightmare with convenient shoulder plates to signify a higher rank, rolled forward. Distorted through the speaker, a posh accented voice ordered, "Everyone on your knees. Surrender peacefully and you will not be harmed."

Sometimes they made things too easy. Art was already in position with the knightmare frame that she had insured would survive the explosion at Maineige Delac. He didn't even need to have good aim because the security forces had foolishly clustered themselves together. She had never been the conductor in an orchestra, but as she took a step forward, she wondered if this was what it felt like with the audience waiting in anticipation for her to move.

And she would give them a show.

"Harm? You, who have already caused us harm, claim that you will not harm us. Where is our compensation? We need those roads. We need those shops. We need security from the lords you serve. Because the truth is all you do is take and take and take. I will never surrender!"

Bullets whizzed past her with a high pitched whine like a violinist who had suddenly run ahead of tempo. She frowned in irritation. They hadn't been aiming for her fortunately. They didn't want to martyr her. No, if they wanted to keep control, they would make her disappear or break her spirit and then tout her in front of the audience and tell the world she regretted her mistakes.

Someone in the crowd screamed and Brigit forced the inching smile to remain off her face. It was all too perfect. Stepping forward, she walked closer to the knightmares. "You, who indiscriminately kill, will find my justice is swift and kind. And may the world see you fall."

Art took the signal and his reinforced slash-harkens shot through the air and pierced the commander's knightmare frame. The world held its breath as the insurmountable frame toppled to the side. The next knightmare surged forward, intent on taking revenge, and the ground rippled as the concussive bomb she had concealed earlier was finally detonated.

And like dominoes they fell.

The mob surged forward, picking up loose bricks and tools. Like a murder of crows they descended on the downed knightmare frames to take revenge for their fallen comrades. A murder of crows... Brigit smiled as she stood in the midst of the sudden chaos. The world was watching as she stood surrounded by her flock.

Seeing a camera, Brigit bowed. "I am the Count of Crows. And today, I make a promise, we will cleanse Britannia. We will never surrender!"

She slipped into the mob and past the screaming knight pulled out of the knightmare frame. The mob would deliver justice today. His death would be on all their consciousness. Some would back out, but after the first die was cast, what was a little more death? Turning into an alleyway, Brigit slipped out of her costume and tucked it into a small backpack.

Her phone rang. It was Art.

"Brie," he hissed, sounding panicked.

She frowned. "You got the knightmare out? It's invaluable."

"No, yes," he groaned, "it's not that. Empress Marianne just landed in Montreal."

"Shit." The woman was a terror in a knightmare frame and a brilliant commander. Brigit had hoped that her accident would make her weaker, but instead, she had stormed through Area Eleven with a brand new knightmare frame at an even more terrifying pace. That woman was not a foe Brigit was ready to face on the battlefield yet. And the rumors... On an intellectual level, Brigit had to admire the woman for her ability to climb all the way from a commoner status to an Empress, while not being seen as the Emperor's toy. "Why would the Emperor send her here? We hardly began!"

Art moaned, "I don't know! Once it was clear you weren't going to surrender, the Britannian news cut to her arrival. How can someone be so terrifying?"

Of course Brigit's opening gambit would be overshadowed by a royal. "Any chance we can take her out?"

Static crackled. "You have heard the rumors? She would have bombed Truro with no hesitation. Maybe she even did. If we fail, she will raze Area Two to the ground. You know Area Seven? She conquered it in two months, and she was the only one with a knightmare at the time."

Brigit ran her hand through her hair as she released it from its confines. Art was too compassionate to make the hard calls. He did not see the boon she had granted their cause by bombing Truro. He was simply horrified. It was a shame. Unfortunately, too many were of his mind and any plans to assassinate the Empress would result in backlash. She did not hold their loyalty tightly enough yet to commit such an action.

"I understand. We'll rendezvous by my brother. Make sure that nobody can find the knightmare and nothing can be traced back to either of us. We cannot let her catch scent of anything if we wish to survive."

Ash Manor, Tokyo, Area 11

Reuben's hand shot forward to turn off the recording, as Milly's head peeked through the door.

"Grandfather? You look pale." She stepped inside the room, straightened the loose pieces of paper, and leaned against the desk while her worried eyes examined him.

"Just busy with work. We should make a plan for the weekend. I think some time in the sun would do me some good," he answered. He really should spend more time with his granddaughter and work was hardly an appropriate excuse.

"Is it because of the Count? There are rumors." Her worried eyes bore into him. "I can't believe Britannia would do that."

Years ago, Reuben wouldn't have believed it as well. But the conquest of Area Eleven had opened his eyes to the callousness and sheer destructive power of the Britannian army. Despite what the Count might have claimed, he doubted the Emperor had ordered the attack. Most likely it was some overzealous noble blindsided by dreams of a prestigious promotion... and nobody questioned orders. One bad apple was all it took to cause a massacre.

Grabbing Millys' hand, he shook his head. "Dear, you really shouldn't be watching such things. The army is perfectly capable of dealing with some terrorists. They have done it before without problems."

"But," she protested and guilt welled in his heart.

"You don't have to worry about the Count. He will remain in Area Two. We're perfectly safe."

Her eyes began to tear up. "But Lelouch. He is in the army now."

Pulling her in for a hug, he rubbed her back gently. "Milly, Lelouch is still in training. It will be some time before he sees combat. And by then, the Count will be dealt with. You have nothing to worry about."

She hugged him back eagerly. "You sure?"

"Yes Milly." Pushing her back slightly, he gazed at the tears trailing down her face. "Why don't you wash up and we'll have dinner tonight. Just the two of us like old times. I just need to finish some stuff here."

Wiping her eyes with her sleeve, she nodded. Before exiting the room, she turned around and forced a sad smile. "Don't work too hard grandpa."

Then she was gone.

Reuben turned back to his recording of the Count's enigmatic speech. While he had faith in Britannia's strength, he couldn't help the sickening feeling in his gut. There was simply something too convenient in the timings of the Area Two attacks, but none of the nobles there would ever listen to his concerns. In the end, all Reuben could do was focus on his own lands and the rebel groups sprouting in his backyard. Margrave Greenford and his ilk thought Reuben was too weak. They expected him to fail, and had sent the newly appointed Margrave Jeremiah Gottwald to head the Purist Faction and take Reuben's place when he fell from the Emperor's grace.

Part of him felt sorry for the boy who was too blind to see the manipulations around him. Jeremiah had faith in Margrave Greenford, and believed in noblesse oblige . Time would tell if he continued to remain a piece or become a player, but currently, he wasn't a threat. Reuben would have to step up and become a player.

And he would start by curbing Prince Clovis's incredibly foolhardy decisions.

Fort Necessity, Pennsylvania

Lelouch sat across from the Drill Sergeant with his squad by his side. The man looked tired and he could see the dark bags under his eyes. Lelouch's hands clenched in his laps. He knew what was happening. He was about to be deployed to a position that practically guaranteed death according to York. It had been wonderful to see Nunnally, but whatever peace he had, was now gone. The Drill Sergeant grabbed his mug of coffee and drained it swiftly.

Blearily, the Drill Sergeant stared at the squad. "Private Lamperouge does not have a choice, but the rest of you have some options regarding where you wish to be deployed."

The door banged open and York walked in. "Good you haven't started."

Lelouch's jaw dropped. The last time he had seen York, he had been leaving with his mother. How was the man still alive? Lelouch had thought, believed, his mother to be more protective.

The Drill Sergeant glared at the man. "Sergeant Malfoire, you're late."

York's slight smile and dilated pupils sent shivers down Lelouch's spine. The man should be dead. It was the only part that Lelouch thought he could rely on his mother for... She really didn't care. Closing his eyes, Lelouch took a deep breath and composed himself. Should didn't matter. Reality did.

"As I was saying," the Drill Sergeant began, while shooting York an annoyed look, "the army is being called into Area Two and all the recruits at the fort are being deployed. Private Lamperouge, you are being sent to the 712th Division." He grimaced. "I will be honest. The 712th Division has one of the highest casualties numbers. Normally, squadrons are sent together. In these exceptional circumstances, however, I will give the rest of you a choice on whether to join Private Lamperouge, or be deployed elsewhere."

Lelouch's stomach dropped. It was far worse than he had assumed. His mouth dried and he slowly turned to look at his squadron and their frighteningly blank expressions. Alex was the first one to finally move and Lelouch's eyes darted to York's smug face.

"I'll join," Alex whispered as he stared down at his hands. He looked up, terrified, but resolutely declared, "I will join Private Lamperouge Drill Sergeant."

Lelouch didn't trust himself to speak. Alex... Alex was following him and would die and it would all be his fault. "Alex," he croaked, "You don't have to."

"No." Alex shook his head. "You're not doing this alone."

The Drill Sergeant picked up the pen and it glided across the page to seal Alex's fate.

A chair clattered back and Roy shot upright, his eyes blazing. "They are not going to the 712th Division! I will not allow my squad to die among the Honorary Britannians, and traitors. My family—"

"Compose yourself Private Fadiman," the Drill Sergeant cut across, "Your family's money is inconsequential. Perhaps you should have reminded Private Lamperouge of the dangers of antagonizing Major Maxwell beforehand." He glared at Lelouch. "There is nothing you can do. There is an open position along the border for you. It isn't expected to see much action."

Roy stared at the other squadron members. Lelouch watched as Henry nodded, followed by Frederick and Edgar. Roy's shoulders slumped, before he turned to look the Drill Sergeant in the eye. "We will be deployed as a squad."

"Does everyone agree with this?" The Drill Sergeant asked.

"Yes Drill Sergeant," the others chorused as Lelouch finally declared, "No!"

Sternly, the Drill Sergeant warned, "Private Lamperouge."

Lelouch ignored the man. Things couldn't get worse. He had nothing to lose anymore. "I won't allow you to throw your life away!"

Roy stepped forward and towered over Lelouch. "It's our lives. We are making this decision because you stupid ass is going to get killed without me. If the rest of the squadron wants to join, that is their choice."

"And what of your family? You have so much to live for. People are waiting on you."

Roy smiled bitterly. "And your sister? She loves you."

Lelouch froze. Sweet Nunnally would be devastated if he died. His parents apparently did not care, but his sister would. He clung to her love like a life lineline in the dark realm of his thoughts. She was his beacon and, for her, he would do anything. He couldn't give up yet. There was someone waiting for him. It was wrong to let his friends enter death's domain with him, but there was strength in numbers. He would use them so he could survive. He felt filthy for it was exactly what the Emperor would have done. No. He could not be like that man. But he was... because Lelouch was willing to put his life first and foremost.

His fingers clenched and he stared Roy directly into the eye. "You will live." His eyes bore into his squad mates. "All of you will live."

The Drill Sergeant tapped his pen against the desk, then sighed, and his pen began to glide across the paper to sign four more death warrants. "Pick up your belongings from the quartermaster, and be ready to move out by o'five hundred. Sergeant Malfoire is your commanding officer until you arrive at the 712th Division. You are dismissed."

York inclined his head. "I will check your bags at o'six hundred. Be ready."

They saluted and turned to leave as Lelouch's heart hammered within his chest.

"And Lelouch," York called out, "an interesting choice you made."

Guilt welled up inside him as the door slammed shut behind him. The rest of the squad stared at him with narrowed eyes and his shoulders sagged. He hadn't killed Roy to save Alex. He had killed them all for a chance to save his life. What right did he have to denounce his father, when Lelouch was just as much a monster?

"Lelouch," Alex asked softly as he grasped Lelouch's shoulder gently. "What did Sergeant Malfoire mean?"

"That we are all going to die," Lelouch whispered as he pulled away. He had to write a letter to Nunnally, and find an appropriate excuse. For a little bit longer he could escape reality and into a fantasy where he was a hard working soldier supporting his little sister at Ashford Academy. It was a pleasant daydream where death, pain, and guilt did not hang over his shoulder. It was the perfect world.

As Lelouch walked away, he could feel Alex's eyes bore into his back, but the boy said nothing.

JLF Base, Narita Mountains, Area 11

"Damn," Tohdoh whispered as he glanced over the reports regarding Area Two. What an absolute catastrophe. He knew Britannia was vindictive although something just felt subtly off regarding the bombing of Truro. Everything was perfectly aligned from the reporters on sight before the military had even responded to the perfect timing of the bomb that had decimated the knightmares attacking the so called Count.

Lieutenant General Iki shifted by his side. "Sir?"

Tohdoh closed his eyes. He had been so worried regarding competition from other resistance groups in Japan, that he hadn't even considered the possibility of another organization sprouting up elsewhere. The French would be drawn in like moths to the flame. Even the man's self appointed title—Count of Crows—was designed to appeal to the French. His little speech had drawn on the failed Washington's Rebellion, but paid homage to the French Revolution. Whoever they were, the Count was highly educated... and a killer.

The Count had incited a mob deliberately for his purpose. He had specifically said "cleanse."

Tohdoh opened his eyes and stared at the young man who had been granted the title of Iki the Miracle Worker for leading their troops to safety in the Narita Mountains. Tohdoh could see the weariness in the man's shoulder. If Tohdoh had been in Iki's shoes, he wasn't sure if he could continue to perform with everyone's crippling expectations.

Sadly, Tohdoh said, "Area Two is about to be a bloodbath."

"Yes. Reports say Empress Marianne arrived," Iki replied.

"Well that is certainly going to make things worse," Todhoh muttered. The woman was a fearsome adversary and way too adept at psychological warfare for Tohdoh to ever feel comfortable facing her again. "I meant the Count. He will paint the streets red to achieve his goals."

"He was talking about justice. He would be a powerful ally."

Tohdoh snorted. "Justice. He will be the judge, jury, and executioner. He touts pretty words, but his actions speak for himself. Where was he before? Area Two has been Britannian territory for a long time. The man just wants an excuse to kill. He revels in it and the attention spurs him on."

Frowning, Iki set down a file, and asked, "What makes you think so?"

"Because I suspect the man was behind the bombing of Maniege Delac. The timing of everything is too convenient. And Truro? The Count must have known before the attack to insure the world heard. He's an actor, and the world is his stage."

His subordinate looked slightly ill at the thought. "Then we will not support him publicly, although some of our men will be eager to join his mission. They are eager to strike against Britannia."

"And if we want any French support, we have to position ourselves as a less violent, but more effective, opposition, but other groups will soon have the same realization. We will need to move quickly." Tohdoh unlocked the desk drawer and pulled out the file Sayoko had dropped off. He had wanted to spend more time researching and find a military reason to attack so nobody would question his source. That option was no longer on the table. "Here is our next target."

Iki flipped through the file and his face grew even paler. Trembling, he set the file aside. "How did you get this sir?"

"We met an information specialist while in Tokyo. She was indispensable in allowing us to resolve the situation without any further casualties."

Flatly, "An assassin."

Tohdoh grimaced. "Yes. She pledged herself to our cause... and she is useful."

"Are you sure she can be trusted?" Iki asked, his eyes cold. "If a higher bidder comes along and she will betray us without a second thought. Not to mention... killing our enemies in such a manner."

"You will not mention her to anyone. I understand your concerns, but it is a calculated risk. She is loyal and her talent at collecting information allows us to remain up to date with the Britannain nobles. She is indispensable."

"And when she betrays us all, everything we have built will be foolishly destroyed."

"No." He stared Iki straight in the eyes. "If she wanted to betray us, then she could have done so many times before. Regardless, her knowledge of the Kyoto House will be indispensable when we finally move against the traitors."

After they finished dealing with Earl Seymour, Tohdoh would finally punish the traitorous group. None of them had searched for Suzaku, not even his uncle, Sumeragi. How the man was willing to bend his knees to the country that had publicly executed his younger sister on national television, was beyond Tohdoh. Sumeragi had simply abandoned his nephew in exchange for the promise of wealth. It was disgusting.

Worldbuilding Thoughts:

-I've been trying to make sure that Brigit would work in the canon timeline because she's mostly been uninfluenced by my alterations to canon. Canon Lelouch... you could say learned from her failure.

-On policing: In the anime, the police are depicted as corrupt. Often, they sport the same sigil as the Britannian army. I'm inferring from this that the police force was part of the Britannian military or private. The epigraph last chapter is unclear from what time period it is written, but by then, the more modern definition of the police being a civil force of the government. Private police force and military police don't qualify under this definition. Also note that epigraphs are under no obligation to be completely factual. History is constantly revised when knew information comes to light.

-The anime's reveal of the Geass Order really conflicted with the OSI for me. The OSI is aware of Lelouch's geass, employs an agent of the Geass Order... Conclusion: The Geass Order is a subbranch of the OSI and both are headed by V.V.

Author's Note:

Thank you x1tears1X on FFN for your help with this chapter. If anyone else wants to beta, just ask? :)

Next update will be next week on Wednesday. It seems like I'll be needing to give you wonderful folks two bonus updates as we've almost passed 100 reviews on FFN. It's still going to take a while since 1.5 chapters a week is what's possible for me right now. Thank you everyone.

To answer the pairing question... The story does not revolve around any pairing. I'm good at writing platonic and familial relationships. While I may write a romantic subplot, it wouldn't have much bearing on the plot, and therefore is in the "I will plan it when I get there." So when the relevant characters are actually old enough to think about this sort of thing. And to put it into perspective, Lelouch was very oblivious. So when he's 17, I'll start actively considering it.

Discord link on my profile. Apparently wasn't working because FFN is stupid about hyperlinking. There's an actual text link now. So hopefully that works.