Chapter 21: And the Embers Drift Away

Britannia's class structure appears simple at a glance and well defined. First, there is the Emperor (or Empress), then various nobles, commoners, and the undesirables, each with various sub-classes. Generally, you stay at the rank you are born and live a fruitful life, while the rare, enlightened, individual rises to new heights. Rising in rank is a reward for good behavior such as being a productive member of society and for the Undesirables, it is the path to freedom. None wish to be an Undesirable, spat on by society or forgotten. An Undesirable isn't a Britannian citizen and their only rights are granted through other's kindness. The lie is simple. Work hard and you, or your children, will be free to live like every other Britannian. This is your penance for your crimes and you must just serve your sentence.

—Britannia's Lie of Opportunity

Ashford Academy, Area 11

Nunnally shook her head as she stepped back onto campus. Technically, the break wasn't over yet, but Bismarck's firm hand on her shoulder, guiding her forward. There had barely been any time between meeting her brother and her mother sending Bismarck to whisk her away. She could still taste the chocolate mint ice cream her brother had bought back in Pennsylvania. Their time together had been too short.

Looking up, she asked, "Is mother going to be fine?"

Bismarck patted her shoulder gently. "If it hadn't been for politics, she would be the Knight of One. She was your father's Knight of Honor. She's perfectly capable of dealing with some minor nuisances."

Nunnally nodded and took a deep breath. Her mother was going to be fine. "Thank you."

"Nunnally! You're back," screamed Milly's familiar voice. "You have to help me. So many applications. And Allie is back too. And I need to give the school tour to new students." She paused and grabbed Nunnally's hand. "Oh. Hello sir."

To Nunnally's surprise, Bismarck chuckled and said, "I see you're in safe hands, Nunnally. Good luck."

Then his footsteps faded away.

"Ok. So you're the student president for the middle school. Allie came back yesterday and she's been helping sort out the paperwork and sorting out club applications. We actually have a falling down club. It was a joke! And then some folks want to start an equestrian club. And I'm keeping Rivalz. You have Allie. My student council is too small otherwise."

"Um, Milly... Relax."

Milly took a deep breath and pulled her into a hug. "I missed you, and grandpa is so busy. Sorry. I'll let you get settled in first."

Nunnally smiled and returned the hug. "No worries. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Oh well, I need to give some tours. Technically, as the middle school president you're now important enough to do so. But only if you want to!"

Smiling softly, Nunnally said, "Sure. What's their name?"

"Shirley Fenette. Her father does contract civilian work and just transferred from Area Two. So be... nice?"

Nunnally stepped back sadly. "The bombing."

"Yeah... It's why her father moved. Grandpa reckons that there will be a lot of people moving out of Area Two in the coming months to here. Area Eleven is cheap right now. She'll be at the dean's office and the tour is supposed to begin in fifteen minutes. I have another tour in thirty minutes. Some daughter of an employee at grandpa's labs."

Welcoming the distraction from her own worries, Nunnally walked to the dean's office and stood before the door, wondering if she should knock. A tour. It would be her first one and... Would she be able to do the school justice? It wasn't like she could describe the visual appeal. But Milly believed in her. Nunnally knocked.

"Hello, I'm Nunnally Lamperouge: the middle school president." Nunnally bowed. "It is an honor to meet you. Shall we commence the tour?"

"Hello," said a shy young female voice, presumably Shirley.

A deeper, gruffer voice sighed. "Shirley. Introduce yourself to the young lady."

Shirley stumbled forward. "I'm the new student, Shirley Fenette. It's nice to meet you, my lady."

Heat surged through Nunnally's cheeks. Her brother would be so disappointed in her. It had just taken a short vacation to reacquire all the wrong mannerisms. "Plea—please just Nunnally. I'm no noble. Let's go?" Nunnally ducked her head and turned around. Thankfully, their footsteps followed her. "This is the administration building. Generally, students won't be in this part unless they have a job or disciplinary actions need to be taken."

The tour continued and Nunnally tried hard to not eavesdrop on the hushed conversation between father and daughter. The small parts she did overhear, constricted her chest. Nunnally was... jealous. She knew that they had been struck by tragedy, but they expressed affection so openly. They laughed together and she could hear their clothes brushing past each other and the small stumbles. Their love was so physical and tangible... it was nothing like Nunnally's relationships with her parents.

And she was jealous.

"So," began the father, "you're the middle school president?"

"The school has been growing quite quickly, so Milly, ah, Lord Ashford's granddaughter and the high school president, gave me the job. It was quite a surprise."

"But you're not a noble? She's willing to give, well, a commoner such an important job?"

"Milly doesn't care about that." Feeling slightly guilty because she was not a commoner despite her claims, Nunnally added on, "My friend Allie joined the student council with me. She isn't a noble either."

Shirley squeaked, "You're blind, aren't you. I wasn't sure."

"Shirley!" the father reprimanded.

"It's fine," Nunnally cut in, "I know my way about campus pretty well now. It's rather empty at the moment, but usually, I'll be using my cane."

Curiously, he asked, "And your blindness isn't a problem?"

"For my toes it is. But Lord Ashford has been quite helpful in setting up accommodations. I'm very thankful."

"Please dad," Shirley whined.

He sighed. "Very well. It seems you'll be seeing Nunnally some more."

Nunnally beamed at the pair. Milly hadn't misplaced her faith. Nunnally had convinced a prospective student. There was nothing she could do to help her brother, but here, at Ashford, she could become her own person. She would always cherish her brother, but she wouldn't rely on him forever. Nunnally wasn't sure what she would become, but she refused to let her heritage define her. Lamperouge was a name that would be remembered on its own merits.

Truro, Area Two

"Lamperouge! I want the area cleared yesterday!"

Lelouch glared at York passing by and picked up the shovel again with his blistered hands. Staring across the broken remnants of the town and the leaning charred bell tower of the old church, he admitted his assignment could be worse. He sunk the shovel into the ash and rubble and flung it into the wheelbarrow. It was fruitless and unforgiving, but completely necessary.

A phantom rumble of a knightmare frame swayed the ground… of course, there was nothing there. Just distant haunting memories of another graveyard.

Frederick groaned as he held his water bottle above his mouth. "Edgar. Please tell me you have some water."

Edgar passed his water bottle.

"There's barely anything in here," Frederick grumbled as he held it upside down, but still let the last few drops drip into his mouth. "Someone have the time?"

Lelouch shook his head. "Just focus. Unless you want Sergeant Malfoire to kill us."

From across their section, Roy snorted. "You know I thought there would be danger... not mind numbing work. This... It's awful. How..."

Alex jumped back as white bone peeked from beneath the ash. "And I thought the slums were bad. Why'd anyone do this?"

Rolling back his aching shoulders, Lelouch stared across the landscape and the crumbling stone walls. Other squadrons worked diligently under the watchful eye of York. A lone figure straightened and stared back across the ashy waste, his foreign features still distinctly visible. He flipped them the finger and Lelouch scowled. Lelouch's squadron felt distinctly out of place. Hostile gazes followed them everywhere. Honorary Britannians and citizens with too much Number blood in them had no reason to trust the clearly Britannian children.

Still... Lelouch smiled grimly. "It could be worse."

Roy stared at him in bewilderment. "How?"

Japan had been worse. "Instead of ash, we could be clearing rotting corpses covered in maggots."

"I don't want to know what goes on in your mind Lelouch. But thank you for giving me new fuel for my nightmares."

They fell into a grim silence. The speaker blared in the distance and they slowly wandered back to their makeshift tent. Accusing glares drilled into their backs as they entered the mess hall and grabbed a meal. Alex slipped closer to Lelouch and quickly shoveled the food down as he kept a wary eye on the rest of the room. In contrast, Henry took his sweet time.

A shadow fell over them and Lelouch turned around to stare at the towering imposing figure. "Hello newbies. Welcome to the 712th. I'm Bern. I'm in charge of your squadron. Try not to die."

Roy nodded stiffly. "It's nice to meet you sir?"

The table creaked as Bern sat down and glared at them. "You all seem like friends. Don't. It's not worth it. Who was your squadron leader during training?"

Slowly, Roy raised his hand.

"I don't like you," Bern said. "But guess you're in charge then. What's your name?"

"Roy. Fadiman. Sir?"

Alex snickered.

Bern looked at Roy and then looked at the entire squadron. "Did you murder someone? Damn it. Gilbert won the bet then."

"We would never kill someone," Roy said aghast.

Frederick shook his head. "You're in the army Roy. But we haven't killed anyone yet. It's just... politics?"

Alex snorted and stared at the knife in his hands. "Speak for yourself."

"You? You killed someone?"

Alex shrugged. "It's not like I meant to. But he had a knife. Then I had the knife. Me or him."

"And I thought we were friends. Anyone else killed someone?" Frederick asked exasperated while Edgar stared at Alex in worry and asked, "Are you ok?"

"It was years ago. Lelouch gets it," Alex defended himself.

Six pairs of accusing eyes settled on Lelouch. Turning to Alex, he hissed, "Why do you think that?"

Alex looked at him as if he was an idiot.

Staring at the cheap plastic table, Lelouch said, "To protect my sister. I wasn't thinking straight the first time. He was just... and, well there was a sword. I barely remember what happened."

"A sword?" Roy mused and then continued, enlightened, "That's why you hate swords."

Henry set down his fork. "I thought killing people wasn't... normal? But Alex has, Lelouch has, apparently twice?"

Bern snorted. "You're such a cheerful bunch. And probably crazy, but then if you aren't when you arrived, you surely will be. So why are you here if it isn't for murder despite apparently having done that?"

It hadn't been... murder. Right? If Lelouch hadn't done it, then he and his sister would be dead. It had been necessary. Lelouch was still a killer. It was so easy to fall into the trap of righteousness, but Henry was right. Children didn't kill. Perhaps some part of him was simply missing.

"Lelouch pissed off a noble," Henry explained. "We decided he's an idiot, but he's our idiotic friend."

"You're all idiots," Bern declared as he stood up. "Stay out of our way and don't mess up. You're a liability."

Lelouch watched the man leave and stared at his squadron, finishing the last of their meal or guzzling water. Somehow, they would get through this together. Lelouch would see Nunnally again. Roy would run his family's business. Edgar would become a doctor. Frederick, Alex, and Henry... well, they would return home as well.

The speaker blared again.

Roy stood up. "Time to get back to work... blah, I have ash in my mouth."

All too aware of their superiors discerning eyes, they jogged back to their plot. The wheelbarrow rested undisturbed and a cold breeze danced and shifted the ground. They worked in silence.

As the sky began to turn orange, Frederick set aside his shovel. "The sky remembers all deaths."

Edgar shielded his eyes as he watched the sun. "Or it's the blood of the west faced with Empress Marianne's wrath."

"You a poet now?" Frederick teased. More seriously, he continued, "My uncle had business in Montreal. I hope he is alright."

"It's only the terrorists that need to worry. If she is taking care of the problem, we'll be fine. No terrorist would dare to do anything with her nearby and piloting a knightmare," Edgar reassured.

Perhaps, Lelouch had been too hasty to blame his mother. She didn't have to be in Area Two... Maybe this was her own way of protecting Lelouch without interfering in his life. Why York was fine, was beyond him, but perhaps he had been too hasty to judge. She was his mother. Some of what he remembered had to be genuine, not colored by his childlike naivety. Or he was once again being foolish. Why did he continue to cling on the desperate hope that his mother would come back? He would be better off without her... Then it wouldn't hurt.

"She is amazing. Stunning. It's no wonder," Edgar continued whimsically, "that the Emperor married her despite being a commoner."

Frederick sighed longingly. "Imagine seeing one of her old duels. She defeated Emperor Brandon vi Britannia."

"That's nothing. He was just some old fart. You know Lord Rackwell? She defeated him when she was fifteen." Edgar shook his head. "Just imagine facing her. I think I could die in peace."

Lelouch stared at the two boys mortified. That was... his mother.

Roy laughed. "Imagine what she must have done to catch the Emperor's attention... They say he even likes her. Out of all his wives."

"Nope," Alex yelled, "conversation officially over. I know where this is heading and it's disgusting and I don't want to hear about it."

"Disgusting?" Lelouch asked. Had he missed something? Sure he did want to hear about his mother's accomplishments, but they weren't disgusting.

With a leering grin that sent shivers down Lelouch's spine, Roy walked over and slung his arm over his neck. "Innocent Lelouch. Obviously not living up to your family name."

Frederick cackled. "Come on Lamperouge. Surely you must know."

Edgar began, "When two people love each other very much—"

"—and sometimes when there is a lot of cash," Frederick continued.

"—they engage in activities—"

No. Lelouch felt his ears burn and stepped back. "Nope. No. Alex is right. You're depraved. Let's talk about something else, like that bird!"

Roy laughed. "You and Alex! You're such babies! Cute, innocent... well not that innocent, but come on... It's only natural. Surely you've had a crush."

Lelouch was relatively sure he had never had a crush, but that wasn't the problem. They were discussing... his mother. He had absolutely no interest in the marital affairs between her and his father. That was simply too much information.

Besides him, Alex shuffled closer. "Nope! Lelouch understands me. It's all disgusting and unsanitary. Seen it and don't get the appeal. Let's please talk about something else before I punch you."

"It's probably for the best," Henry said, "not to discuss the Empress and Emperor in such a manner. They are impressive... but it's probably... inappropriate?"

Lelouch prayed for the ground to swallow him whole. It didn't. "Very inappropriate." Lelouch spotted Frederick's disturbing look. "And let's not talk about anyone else either."

"Spoilsports," Roy complained. "But really Lelouch. You need to expand your horizons. Otherwise you'll grow old and alone."

Alex laughed. "You're one to talk. Not like you have a girlfriend."

Puffing out his chest, Roy grinned. "Unlike you folks, I do. Vanessa is amazing and the most beautiful girl in the world. She also—"

"—Great," Alex cut in, "you're now all lovey dovey. Not sure if this is worse or not, so shut up."

Roy retorted, "Really, you sure—" A gunshot rang around the ashen landscape, cutting his reply short.

They dropped to the ground, glanced wildly for the source, and flinched as another gun shot pierced the air..

Someone was yelling.

Lelouch peeked up, searching for a clue. Another shot.

The blinding flash of light. The stench of sulfur… Gunpowder. The silenced scream as a body fell.

They were using simple old fashion rifles... yet still clearly deadly.

Another gunshot... followed by five more.

It wasn't just one person... And true to his realization, another smattering of gunfire followed.

An ambush.

"Get down," Roy yelled as he pulled Lelouch to the ground. "Do you want to get shot? Stay down!"

Lelouch hissed back, "It's a trap. We need to move. We're sitting ducks!"

"There's no cover! At least sitting ducks have time. We move, and you bet we'll be shot down. We just need to wait. Reinforcements will be here soon."

They were in the 712th division. The division barely had functioning equipment. Perhaps they had been used as bait to draw out the terrorists. There would be no reinforcements any time soon. Lelouch glanced at the failing tower of the church. It's integrity was questionable, but it provided better cover than a wheelbarrow.

"Look," Lelouch proposed, "We crawl over to the church, use the wheelbarrow as cover. At least we have a better chance over there."

Roy glanced at the church and grimaced. "Fine. Everyone move. Groups of two."

A bullet struck the ground and a small plume of ash rose. In the distance, a fiery explosion took to the sky. With the taste of ash on his tongue, Lelouch snaked along the ground. Frederick flipped the wheelbarrow and used it as a makeshift shield to draw fire away from the rest of the squadron.

A bullet whistled by their ears.

Heart pounding, they reached the burnt church.

"Shit," hissed Frederick, as he inspected his arm and the small well of blood, "that was close."

Edgar hurried over and poured a small amount of water to clean the area and tore a strip of cloth, tying it around the arm. "Try not to move it. And I know it's impossible, but try to keep it clean. You're lucky."

Pressed against the wall they turned around and slipped inside the hollowed building. Debris drifted down and Lelouch eyes the cracked remnants of the ceiling worriedly. To his surprise, he saw Bern among another squadron.

Glowering at them, Bern strode over and crossed his arms. "Leave."

Roy took a slight step back. "Look, there's enough room for all of us. You won't even notice we're here."

"Leave. The more people there are, the more likely they are to target this building. We take care of ourselves first."

Listening to the repeating sounds of gunfire and the occasional blast from a grenade, Lelouch tried to find an argument. This was perhaps the only point of safety within the entire area. If they left... they would surely die and Lelouch refused to die. He glanced at the squadron. None of them had proper weapons, and given the size difference, it was unrealistic for Lelouch's squadron to win in an unarmed fight. Diplomacy it was.

Taking a step forward, Lelouch stared Bern in the eyes. "And if you send us out there and we don't die?"

"What?"

His lips curled. "Well, we could argue that you tried to kill us. And... that would have some ire consequences for you. We're not supposed to kill each other, only the enemy."

Bern took a step forward and glared down at him. "Perhaps I should just kill you here then. Dead lips do not speak."

"But we'll fight. And you'll win, but maybe one of you gets hurt... and well," Lelouch shrugged with a smirk, "the enemy no doubt saw us entering here. But just to be sure, I'll make sure to scream as loudly as possible. You'll be weak and injured, facing the enemy. So as I see it, you have two options. You can flee and try to survive the death trap... Or, you help us fight."

His squad members shifted behind him and Bern's face contorted, before he spat, "We'll die together then because there is no way to win this."

Lelouch clenched his hands and forced his face to relax. They had allies now, and perhaps they were a bit unenthusiastic, but numbers mattered. The plan was the next step. He could do this. "What supplies do you have?"

Bern glanced back at his squadron. "You're insane. We can't win... But two shovels and... and some brandy."

The latter was contraband, but not really useful. Lelouch looked up at the swaying walls and back at the group members. The building marked their location, but also provided cover. It... also offered them height. He didn't trust the walls, but between life and death, he would take it. There was still a small overhang, where they could wait. But what would they do from up there if it supported their weight?

No. Lelouch shook his head slightly. He was being stupid. The priority was to take out the enemies ability to fire their guns, otherwise they were screwed. Muzzle flashes... Lelouch stared at Bern. "How much alcohol do you have?"

"Hey, we're not sharing. We bought this. We're getting drunk. Not you."

"No," Lelouch pressed his hands together, "How much do you have? Edgar has a lighter. I have an idea. If it works, we have a chance to survive until reinforcements subdue the terrorists."

One of Bern's squadron mates sighed and stepped past the skeptical man. "I'm not too eager to die yet. We have six bottles. But if you drink one sip..."

Lelouch shook his head. "Don't worry. We need every drop to burn."

Their eyebrows raised. "That's... we should have thought of that. Name's Pablo. But you have anything else? Because that won't buy us much time."

Nodding at Pablo, Lelouch pointed up at the remains of the second floor. "The area is weak, but if we crawl and distribute our weight, it will probably hold. That gives us the advantage of height. It won't defend us against the guns, but if we can scare them to not fire... then that evens the battle field."

Bern stared at him accusingly. "You plan on bluffing."

"It worked for Napoleon," Lelouch retorted. "It's better than nothing. And you guys probably have the advantage in a hand to hand fight."

Alex stepped forward and walked to the opening, inspecting the corner. "You know we have a lot of ash..."

"Only if you want to. It will be risky."

Alex shrugged. "It'll be my pleasure. I can do it. Up you go."

Helping each other up the flimsy walls, Lelouch lay on his belly and looked down at the charred gap where the terrorists would enter. Roy lay down beside him, peeking at the battlefield. As everyone ascended, Lelouch listened warily to the creaking floor. It was a risky maneuver coming up here, but it was better than the alternative.

Edgar passed him a bottle with a strip of his uniform tied around the neck and ready to be lit. "This is your plan."

Lelouch shook his head. "That's a good backup. Is Frederick a good shot? I'll need him to throw this at the leader or the gun trigger idiot after I warm up the bottle."

Edgar shifted and turned his head to stare at Lelouch. "Couldn't you just throw an empty bottle?"

"If it goes like I theorized, you'll see. Otherwise, we have explosives which should be a painful deterrent." Lelouch poked Roy who was diligently staring out of a crack at the battlefield. "Where the shovels?"

"Gave them to the other squadron and one to Alex along with the wheelbarrow."

Lelouch nodded and took a deep breath to calm his thrumming nerves. Every gunshot caused a flinch to run through him, but for now, they hadn't been approached. Rolling the bottle of whiskey between his hands, Lelouch continued to warm it up. Once he heard them approach, he would use the lighter to speed up the process.

A garbled mess of English mixed with French words and other nonsensical sounds, greeted Lelouch's ears. The enemy was approaching.

Rubble crunched beneath their feet and Lelouch watched the small group enter the ruined building. Pulling out the lighter, Lelouch slowly began to heat the bottle from the bottom. The leader, a tall, burly man with a scar running down his cheek looked around the area suspiciously. A teenager with bright red messy hair and gangly limbs followed closely behind and clutched his rifle tightly. Lelouch passed the bottle to Frederick as the third member entered: a short stout elderly man with harsh eyes.

The old man's eyes began to ascend.

Frederick threw the bottle.

The terrorists wiped his head and glowered at them. He raised his gun. Lelouch shook his head as Edgar lifted the cocktail. Pressing against the wall, they heard the gun fire.

The terrorist shrieked and his friends yelled frantically.

Peeking over the ledge, Lelouch grimaced as he watched the man patted out the flames on his clothes. He called down, "That was a warning. Next time, it'll be more."

"Gasu! Coward! Swine!" The teen screamed, but a glimmer of fear shone in his eyes. Still, he raised his own gun.

Lelouch nodded at Edgar who gleefully held out the edge of the cloth for Lelouch to light. The bottle slammed into the teen and the boy screamed and scrambled backwards. Falling to the ground, the boy stared up at them with wide open eyes, then stumbled to his feet, and sprinted back outside.

"Shit! What the hell! You bastards, just lie down and die!" The old man screamed and looked for the gun he dropped. "Where the hell is it you swine!"

And that had been Alex, covered in soot, capitalizing on their moment of distraction. There were probably a few missing wallets as well which would be useful if they got out of this alive. Alex, emerging from the shadows, struck quickly, holding a knife to the burly man's throat. The old man growled dangerously.

Bern, seizing the opportunity, slid down to the ground and swung the shovel at the old man's head. A sickening crunch echoed through the area and bile rose in Lelouch's mouth. The stout man gasped as Alex pressed the knife even closer to his throat and stared at the crumpled body in disbelief.

The last terrorist's eyes flicked between the soldiers descending to the ground and Lelouch saw his muscles tense and the grim face of determination.

"Alex!" Lelouch shouted.

The man bucked and Alex flipped over his shoulder, crashing into the ground with an audible groan. The gun lay between the man and Bern. Both lunged forward. Bern, wrapping his hand around the barrel, elbowed the terrorist in the face, as he struggled for control. His heart pounding, Lelouch climbed down and ran to Alex who slowly rolled over.

Alex stumbled to his feet, "I'm fine Lelouch. That was stupid of me."

Relieved, Lelouch turned to Bern who had caught the remaining terrorist in a choke hold. Pablo ripped the gun out of the man's hand and tension drained out of everyone's shoulder.

Pablo shook his head, "I can't believe that worked. We're alive... God, I'm alive."

Lelouch winced as the man's face turned red and his arms twitched as he desperately tried to get air. "Bern, keep him alive."

"Fine," Bern said and threw the man down to the ground. "But we're tying the bastard up."

The others nodded and Lelouch smiled. He had done it. They had all survived their first taste of combat. It was unbelievable, but Lelouch couldn't help the surge of pride as he watched his squadron mates. Edgar fussed over Alex and prodded his ribs, while Henry glowered at their captured terrorists. Frederick and Roy stood in the corner, staring at the dead body with wide eyes.

Lelouch approached them. The stench of burnt flesh churned his stomach. "How are you holding up?"

Roy looked at Lelouch and then spun around, vomiting on the ground. The putrid stench wafted through the air and Lelouch felt his own throat constrict. Taking shallow breaths, he turned to Frederick who simply sat down and shook his head.

"Lelouch," Frederick began and then shook his head. "Never mind."

The other squadron shouted, "You want some brandy? Victory drink on us?"

They were so unaffected and Lelouch felt the small frown tug at his lips. How long until the same apathy struck Lelouch and his squadron? It felt wrong to be cheerful in the graveyard of Truro, but it had just taken a few days for them to begin cracking jokes. And the other squadron was simply drinking next to a dead body. The idea that he would become acclimatized... terrified Lelouch.

Lelouch turned to Frederick and asked, "Do you think reinforcements will be here soon?"

A nervous laugh escaped Frederick. "We almost died. We should've died. And then..." A sob escaped him. "Edgar almost died. I can't believe... I'm terrified."

"Death..." Lelouch trailed off as he tried to determine a word for an untimely and cruel finale that left the world emptier. "It sucks."

Frederick snorted and burst into laughter. "Leave the poetry to Edgar."

Lelouch scowled.

A shot rang through the air.

Lelouch spun around, watching as Bern stood still for a terrifying moment in a bloody haze, and then fell limply to the ground, his limbs splayed at an unnatural his eyes from the pooling blood, Lelouch looked at the entryway and the trembling teenager with bleeding hair and scorched skin, raising his gun.

"You killed Conla!"

The youth had killed Bern.

Slowly, the teen grinned as he raised his gun. "You'll pay."

Lelouch raised his hands slowly as they focused on the hyperventilating teen.

A whining sharp crack.

The boy stumbled. The gun dropped.

Silence.

The reinforcements had arrived.

Lelouch took an involuntary step forward as the boy stumbled forward and their eyes locked. The pale blue eyes focused on the downed old man and then fluttered closed.

The other squadron surged around Bern, and Pablo shook his head ruefully, "He's already gone."

A new enthusiastic voice cut through as a section of soldiers departed from their marching platoon and cleared the area. "You're alive. Congratulations!"

Lelouch glowered at York who flashed him a cheshire grin and then continued to check on the other members of the two squadron while talking genially. Glancing at Bern's body and the blood drying and cracking within the ash, Lelouch silently rubbed his face with his sleeve. If only he had planned better. He should have known better... and then, maybe, Bern would still have been alive. Plans... Lelouch had thought he could plan well, yet his plans had almost led to Suzaku's death. And now, to Bern's death.

Alex wandered over to Lelouch and groaned. "We're supposed to head back, and Malfoire wants to talk to you about what happened."

"Roy is the squadron leader," Lelouch protested, "he should be the one leading us back and giving the debriefing."

Not Lelouch who put his squadron into danger. If it hadn't been for Lelouch's weakness, Major Maxwell wouldn't have punished Lelouch and sent him to the 712th. Then his squadron wouldn't be here either.

Alex grimaced. "Roy needs time to recover. He's pretty shaken up."

Silently cursing the fact that York hadn't bothered to tell Lelouch himself, he stood up and accepted the new responsibility. "Did you get anything else off the terrorists?"

Alex shrugged sheepishly and pulled out two wallets, a cell phone, and car keys.

Lelouch accepted them gratefully and led the squadron back to camp. It wasn't like a simple walk and report could be messed up. The other squadron followed them, just as subdued. The fight was finally over and Lelouch gazed around at the burnt wreckage and Britannian soldiers and terrorists resting on the ground alike. Lelouch had been lucky. Next time, he would have to be properly prepared by any means necessary. He refused to be at the mercy of fate and chance again.

Pablo walked up beside him and gingerly stepped over a fallen body. "Thank you. Bern... It wasn't your fault, you know. We know that. None of us blame you."

"I should have—"

"—Should is such a nasty word. Everything should be different, better, fairer. We shouldn't be here because of our blood. We should be able to find proper employment. We should be able to write to our family. But should is a dream land: a better world that's just our fantasy. Deal with reality and the future, not the past and what should be."

Surprised, Lelouch stared at Pablo, "That's surprisingly... helpful."

Pablo's eyes narrowed and he accused, "Because I'm an Honorary Britannian, a number?"

Lelouch shook his head. "No. It's just actually helpful... and you cared enough to share it. It's not like my parents, who are Britannian as you can get, ever did the same. They can't be bothered. So thank you."

Pablo's face smoothed and he held out his hand. "Pablo Vega from Area Six. It's nice to meet you."

Lelouch accepted the hand. "Lelouch Lamperouge from... the Homeland. It's an honor."

Snorting, Pablo glanced at the nearing encampment. "How old are you guys anyway? I know you're fresh, but you almost look like babes."

Blushing, Lelouch lied, "Alex and I are fourteen. The others are slightly older."

Pablo stumbled. "Damn. And I thought I was young at twenty-three. Do Brits just join the army as babes? Cause only the desperate do that for us."

"We're supposed to be in training, but the Count derailed that. Everyone got sent out early," Lelouch paused, considering the benefit of securing an ally. "If you don't mind others reading your mail, I can send your letter to my sister and she can mail it to your family?"

"That'd... be nice. You don't have mail restrictions, that's right. Thank you." Pablo ruffled Lelouch's hair. "You do that and I'll officially welcome you and your friends to the club."

Lelouch watched the man jog back to his squadron and the sudden laughter. It was nice to finally have an ally. Being in a division where everyone hated them was dangerous, but the offer of friendship could ease their path. York nodded to him in the distance and Lelouch spared a final glance back at his squadron bustling around Alex and Roy, before accepting his fate. If York had asked for Lelouch specifically, then there was probably more that he wished to discuss. It would be their first solo meeting since deployment and Lelouch grimaced as he noticed the minor tremor in his hands. His body was once again out of his control.

York stood inside the tent that functioned as his office, "At ease."

"Sir," Lelouch replied although he didn't allow himself to relax, not around York.

"Report."

Staring into York's eyes, Lelouch dutifully recounted the events although he conveniently left out who supplied the alcohol. York nodded approvingly as Lelouch lay out the stolen items and looked at the cellphone with interest.

"I will write up squadron eighty-seven for contraband. You did quite well, Your Highness... I'm almost impressed," York drawled.

York knew. Of course he knew. He had met his mother. But why had his mother done nothing? Perhaps now, Lelouch would be safe from York's sadistic tendencies, but the glimmer in the man's eyes was still there. York had let the information slip for a reason although "why" baffled Lelouch. What did he have to gain?

Still, Lelouch had the much more pressing issue of making sure that his squadron was accepted within the division. "We smuggled in the alcohol."

"Right. You burned that poor teen, but you failed to complete the job. Do not add another poor decision to the day by lying to me. The Numbers are not your friend... and if your identity ever leaks..." York tilted his head and looked comically concerned, "Well one of them might just realize that you are to blame for their current condition. And then His Highness," he shrugged and his face returned to passive neutrality, "will be no more."

There was definitely no love for the royal family in the division, there was hardly any for regular Britannians. Lelouch narrowed his eyes at York. The man wanted him alive. It was the only part consistent in York's actions. Perhaps Lelouch was simply entertainment or York had something else planned, especially now that he knew Lelouch's identity, but it left Lelouch with leverage.

"I'm quite aware," Lelouch began, "But our chances of survival are minuscule if the entire division hates us. It just takes a small delay or even more inferior supplies. Perhaps they'll forget to share a vital piece of intel. Taking the fall for illicit goods will endear us and my squadron needs allies to survive..."

York narrowed his eyes and then turned around to grab a pile of papers. "You want to buy goods from the black market yourself."

Lelouch scowled.

"I'll let you take the fall, but you... you're going to find the black market and tell me everything." York smiled and passed a small packet of papers. "Sign."

Lelouch scanned the contract... York valued honesty, so he would drop the pretenses. "You won't be able to enforce the contract on me considering my status. And if I become your snitch, then you'll be obligated to shut the operation down... which defeats the purpose."

York's grin widened. "It doesn't need to be enforceable. I just need to file the paperwork. Besides, that contract doesn't tie you to Sergeant Malfoire, but the OSI. We're hardly going to bother shutting the black market down so another one can spring up in its place. That's sloppy."

"You want information... No, you want to infiltrate it and maybe even turn a profit," Lelouch realized.

"Because Lelouch... you're surrounded by potential turn coats. They only stay in line because of fear and eventually the Count or some other terrorist will realize what a boon is here. And you'll be there to catch them."

Ashford Academy, Area 11

Nunnally sat down in the cafeteria for breakfast and the table creaked as Allie sat down beside her. Around her, the cafeteria bustled and fragmented conversation flitted overhead. No longer was there relative peace and quiet, instead, it was brimming with conversation and people. Some boys yelled loudly and cheered, drowning out the loud gossip of some older girls and a younger girl practicing her French.

"Can I sit here?" A familiar voice asked... Shirley, "If it's not too much of a bother?"

Nunnally scooted closer to Allie, "Sure. Allie, this is Shirley, I gave her a tour of the school. Shirley, Allie."

Allie shifted and coolly said, "It's nice to meet you. How are you enjoying Ashford so far?"

"Ah, well it's going well. But I barely know anyone. And there are so many new students all the time. I'm planning on joining the swim team..."

Milly's familiar voice cut in and the table shook again as the president plopped down across from Nunnally. "Nunnally! My savior. Please help me. I need to find minions, I mean, student council members. You have to know someone... please? I'm drowning in paperwork. And I'm going to be gone next week to help grandpa with an event. Please help."

Snickering, Allie teased, "Being a noble is too much work? What with all those fancy parties?"

Milly humphed. "Grandpa should never be allowed to plan a party. He doesn't understand the flair required. It would be a symposium. I refuse to attend a symposium."

"Relax Milly," Nunnally soothed, "your grandfather can hire people for that. You don't have to do it all by yourself, I doubt he expects you to."

"But," Milly whined, "it wouldn't be the same. It'd be stuffy. I refuse."

Shirley, sounding utterly confused, quietly spoke up, "A symposium?"

"You look strong," Milly began and a chill ran down Nunnally's spine, "How are your grades?"

"Fine? I passed Mr. Robinson's last test." Shirley answered.

"Favorite food!"

"Strawberries, no, watermelon."

Nunnally wondered if it was her duty to save the poor girl, unfortunately, it was probably too late.

"You're hired. Meetings are at four on Tuesday in the ballroom! Crap, I need to meet grandpa. See you then! Don't be late!"

Milly's footsteps disappeared into the din of the dining room and Nunnally smiled fondly. She did wonder what was occupying her friend, but Nunnally wasn't going to pry. Hopefully things would calm down soon, at least for Milly's health.

Shirley sputtered, "What just happened?"

"That was Milly Ashford," Nunnally replied chuckling. "Congratulations, you passed her arbitrary interview test, and are now an official member of the student council."

"But why?" Shirley asked aghast. "I'm just... me?"

Allie sighed, "That's just Milly. She's probably planning on setting you up with Rivalz or so."

Nunnally shook her head. "You did talk to her and were sitting next to me. The majority of the students can't do both."

The table shook slightly, and Shirely whined, "At least my dad will be proud."

Reaching out to pat Shirley's back, Nunnally comforted, "You'll get used to it."

Down the table, a radio crackled and her mother's name caught Nunnally's attention. Tuning out Allie and Shirley, Nunnally tried to pay attention to the broadcast.

"In the past few weeks, the few minor skirmishes have died down. It seems this Count of Crows is a coward. A no show."

Another reporter responded, "Empress Marianne definitely is effective. The only major city left is Vancouver and the traitors, who just two weeks ago, were protesting in the streets and bringing military construction to a standstill, have already dispersed."

The cafeteria fell silent and something squeaked over the ground, only to be met with loud shushes.

"Empress Marianne, the People's Empress. An apt title. With her, the other nations have to accept our might. She's the epitome of justice."

Allie snorted. "Right."

"And what do you think of the E.U.'s claim regarding civilian casualties?"

The reporter snorted and chuckled as he replied, "Well if they were law abiding citizens, they would have stayed out of the way. The martial law is for their safety and it has been effective. Surely, if what the E.U. touts is true, people would be complaining. But no, after Empress Marianne arrived in Quebec, the citizens celebrated."

Around the dining room, sounds of agreements followed and Nunnally caught small snippets of conversation.

"I wish I was there."

"Well, I heard she can't walk."

"The terrorists deserved it."

"Hell, if Britannia bombed Truro it had to be because of the Count."

"They got their due."

"No fair, they actually got to see her."

Shirley stifled a sob and Nunnally pressed her lips together. Japan had supposedly deserved it as well. And once again, her mother was responsible for a massive loss of life. All the justifications in the world did not change the cruel reality. Nobody saw the bloody truth covered in roses. Shirley probably saw a glimmer of the truth having come from Area Two and that gave Nunnally hope.

"It's not everyday one sees an Empress. It was truly a sight to behold."

"Speaking of sights, I must admit that watching the army march the traitors down the street to the execution block is enthralling. The crowds are wild. I believe we may be approaching a record number of attendees for the execution. It seems like the terrorist threat is finally over."

"It only makes sense. Empress Marianne is scheduled to arrive in an hour and I wouldn't miss the opportunity for the world. Now, onto our callers. Tell us, how do you feel? Excited? Concerned?"

Nunnally, feeling nauseous, stumbled to her feet and grasped her cane and slipped out of the cafeteria, bumping into students on her hurried way out. The news continued to play as students tuned in on the radio or the richer ones, watched the live broadcast on their laptops.

"Live from Vancouver, we bring you the story of Mor Berger, a hero. She reported her neighbor..."

"Empress Marianne just landed. She's stepping out."

"Be safe, to report any suspicious activity call..."

"Curfews are finally lifted in Quebec after a period of peace. The threat is over."

"Marianne the Flash carries the sword, a gift from his majesty himself..."

Nunnally turned into a thankfully silent classroom and slammed the door shut. Catching her breath, she leaned against the wall. After barely having time with her mother over break, Nunnally was now inundated with her presence. Inescapable. Ever present.

The door creaked open and someone slipped inside and shut the door firmly behind them, cutting off a pair of wandering students whispering about the Emperor's Executioner.

That was what her mother was. An executioner. Bismarck had been right. Her mother could take care of herself. She was feared for a reason and her reputation was bloody. Suzaku hadn't been an isolated incident.

"You okay? You just rushed out there, I was worried," Allie asked as she rested a hand on Nunnally's shoulder.

Nunnally nodded. "Just... don't want to hear about Area Two. So many people died... and everyone's... well, it's like a game to them."

"Shirley ran out as well. I guess people could be a little more sensitive."

"She just moved from Area Two," Nunnally explained, "She knows people there probably. It's all of Area Two."

Allie forced a chuckle. "Well most of it. Greenland and Iceland are mostly untouched."

If the Count hadn't been caught yet and was just biding his time... Nunnally swallowed. A lack of activity could indicate that the terrorists were simply lying low. "I hope so."

Shinjuku, Tokyo, Area 11

Suzaku watched as a tall slim woman walked into the shop and his boss embraced her with a sob. They spoke quickly and Suzaku turned away to focus on his work as his boss pulled out a tea set and poured the stranger tea. He wouldn't be caught slacking.

An hour into his work, his boss called, "Get over here boy."

Suzaku bowing his head, stood before the woman. "Yes ma'am."

The other woman stared at him balefully and up close, Suzaku could see a family resemblance. The stranger clicked her teeth. "We don't need help from some Number. Your services are no longer required."

Suzaku hid his wince. While Chiba had the resources to feed everyone, Suzaku knew the loss of money would hit them hard, especially Ko. Baby toys and food were hard to acquire. Not to mention medicine. "Have I done anything wrong?"

"Sis," his boss began, "he's just a boy."

"Don't be ridiculous," the woman snapped back, "I'll help you run the shop. Besides, he's a Number, they're a duplicitous lot."

Suzaku lowered his head. "May I have a letter of recommendation, ma'am?"

"No. Get out of our sight," snapped his boss's sister.

"Villetta," his boss sighed, "The news said it was Britannian bombers over Truro. It's not his fault. And I barely pay him, there's no harm in letting him stay or at least giving a letter of recommendation. He just wants to work."

"Bet it was the Numbers doing! They're all liars and cowards. What did they do after Truro was bombed? They burned Michael's house," Villetta hissed, "They killed him. Adrian and Michael are gone because of them."

His boss took an enraged step forward. "Do not use Adrian like that! How can a Number even plan such an event? Everyone agrees, it was Britannians. If they hadn't acted rashly, then our little brother would still be alive."

"And if it hadn't been for the Numbers and traitors, it wouldn't have happened. You didn't see the mobs of savages. And I'm glad that Empress Marianne cut them down! They deserve it for betraying the Empire."

Suzaku flinched at the mention of that woman's name.

"Are you blind!" His boss threw her hands up. "Do you even listen to yourself? Why should I support Britannia?"

Villeta scowled and shook her head, her voice becoming dangerously low. "Do not go there Eveline. You may be my older sister, but I will not accept a traitor. Not after everything."

"A traitor? You're going there because I'm disagreeing with you. Open your eyes! You're blind. And that boy," she swung her hands at Suzaku, "is innocent. Maybe he'll change, maybe he won't. But we have the Honorary Britannian system for a reason. If he can be of use, then he shall be of use!"

Villetta stormed over and shoved Suzaku, throwing him in between them. "So you're a Number sympathizer now? I'm trying to protect you and you can't see it!"

"I can't see it?" His boss shook her head sadly. "You take everything at face value, not questioning a thing. I thought... I thought you were better than this."

"Guess what... Adrian died. The Numbers killed Michael. Choose where your loyalties are, your family, or some worthless cockroach."

The ultimatum hung in the air and his boss's face contorted with pain.

Suzaku broke the silence, "I'll leave... It's not a big deal."

Villetta's eyes drilled into him, but Suzaku refused to flinch. They were grieving and Suzaku's presence was hindering their ability to move on. If he left, then it would hopefully help the world in a small way.

His boss's voice broke as she turned around, "Let me just write you a letter. And get your pay."

"Eveline—" warned Villetta, but fell abruptly silent at the violent glare from Suzkau's boss.

The fountain pen glided over the paper and his boss blew on the paper gently before folding it together and slipping it into an envelope along with numerous pound notes. Suzaku opened his mouth to protest and she shook her head slightly, her eyes darting to her sister.

"Good luck," she paused as she passed him the envelope. "What was your name?"

"Suzaku," he whispered.

"Good luck Suzaku. You were... not what I was expecting."

Suzaku left and took a final glance back at his boss... No. Eveline.

She cared.

Worldbuilding Thoughts:

-The wiki says guns used "strong electromagnetic pulse to fire bullets." The name implies this is a recent modernization as IRL the connection between magnetism and electricity was discovered by accident and publicized in 1820. Funnily enough, that was during an attempt to prove that electricity and magnetism weren't related. To make such a weapon, at minimum, you'd need Maxwell Equations therefore pushing the date past 1873. Based on this, the claim that firearms "do not use gunpowder" is highly suspect. Military guns and so might rely on the "superior" guns with modern technology, but the old guns would still rely on gunpowder and are just the thing that might be flying around that a terrorist group would be able to stock up on. They might even be in production still for things like hunting or simply history enthusiasts.

-Brandy varies wildly in alcohol content with the upper end being 60%. According to a handy dandy research paper, at ~50 ethanol in water, the flash point is 19.8 C (68 F). Flash point refers to when a compound can be ignited via vapors given a spark. Guns emit a small spark and there are recorded cases of this igniting gasoline fumes. Therefore... theoretically, Lelouch's plan should work and the gun would ignite the alcohol. The fire would probably be not very hot and quickly run its course, therefore making this is more of a scare tactic. Please don't attempt this...

-On linguistics... language evolve super quickly and accents are insane. I imagine each Area has its own dialect, which is probably some weird mash of the local's language and English. For Area Two, I imagined a huge originally French population, with a latter surge in Irish immigration. Kallen's name is actually Irish... Regardless, this means that Area Two would have a very unique dialect (probably multiple) that would be indiscernible to someone who just knows English... or even knew English, French, and Irish. This phenomena can be seen in the German dialects which, despite everyone speaking High German, locals would use low German and while there may be similar sounds and grammar, often words do not have the same meaning. Another case is Mesoamerica which has incredibly high linguistic diversity and five main language families. I do not have the patience for conlang... so I'm just mashing stuff through Google translate or not bothering. But keep this in mind, because it's very hard to surveil an area when the language is indicipherable to anyone not a native.

Author's Note:

Update schedule changing to every other week

I know I said 1.5 chapters per week, but I forgot to account for editing and research. Also... this chapter was 8.3k which is way too long to write in one week. I prefer to maintain a consistent update schedule and currently, I'm slipping way too often which displeases me. Therefore, to maintain a high level of quality and so I can keep doing random research on things like the flashpoint of alcohol... and not crush my beta with my word count, this fic is moving to every other week. I will continue to dedicate the same amount of time to this fic, so it's not like you're getting less words, and perhaps in the future, I will resume a weekly update schedule.

x1tears1X you're amazing!

I'm always open to more people betaing as long as your workflow meshes with ours. :)

See you in two weeks.

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