Chapter 22: A House of Cards

For indentured servants and labor prisoners, the lie of opportunity is almost the truth. These people were Britannian citizens, and their lack of status is a temporary affliction that can be remedied by serving time. One must ask, who finds themselves in such a position? A noble would be a rare sight, but a Number, or minority group will find themselves disproportionately represented. Too often indentured servants are Numbers, or orphans that have been tricked into signing a contract. They have committed no crime but ignorance. They will work hard, but the noble is crafty, and when the sentence is up, they find themselves owing hundreds of pounds for accrued damages and thus bound in a new contract. The labor prisoner simply lacked the wealth to bribe the judge ,or made a powerful enemy among the nobles. A labor prisoner must do any job asked of them and any perceived slight can be punished anywhere from withholding food to flogging.

It is the Numbers, that this great lie of opportunity targets and who are punished for their birth in a manner befitting Tantalus. The promise of citizenship by becoming an Honorary Britannian is dangled before them. While Honorary Britannians are legally citizens, Britannian culture refuses to accept them as such. Even children, with only a drop of Number blood in their veins, are met with rampant discrimination. The entire Number system is a carefully designed tool of oppression. A Number is not allowed to educate themselves and others through formal schooling, nor are they allowed to provide medical care. This practice creates a population heavily reliant on the local population and leaves them vulnerable to exploitation. Additionally, Numbers may not own property, worship in public, or possess weapons. The Viceroy may restrict rights even further by implementing travel and communication restrictions. The Number embraces the prospect of freedom, and becomes an Honorary Britannian, only to find that in doing so, their cultural identity is stripped away.

—Britannia's Lie of Opportunity

Athene Villa, New Pendragon

Cornelia laughed as her sister Euphie playfully shoved her out of the chair. Her sister was absolutely adorable and Cornelia took the opportunity to straighten. Her legs were finally functioning after substantial physical therapy. Distant voices echoed through the hallway and Cornelia paused... that was her... mother, Empress Victoria. Her voice was shrill as always and Cornelia stood up, gently tucking an errant strand of hair behind Euphie's ear. Conversations with her mother were always... unpleasant.

Euphie hugged her tightly and buried her face in Cornelia's skirt and mumbled, "I don't want mother to yell at you again."

"Hush, Euphie," Cornelia whispered as she soothed Euphie's frizzy hair, "You don't have to worry. Mother cannot take you away from me."

"Please don't leave," her sister pleaded as her large violet eyes bore into Cornelia's soul. "I was so terrified when I heard about your accident. You were lucky."

"No need for that Euphie. I'm perfectly fine and besides," she lifted her sister up and spun her around, "I have no intentions of leaving you behind to deal with our mother. She would have you married off in a heartbeat."

Euphie giggled and twirled, her dress flaring out by her side. "All the big bad suitors will have to fight you off."

"Yes, It will take a brave man to face the end of my blade."

Laughing, she reached out to examine Cornelia's ornate hilt. "Will you teach me?"

Cornelia fell silent and smiled fondly down at her young sister. She couldn't deny her dear sister anything, but Euphie's relationship with their mother was nowhere as tenuous as Cornelia's. Empress Victoria was a staunch traditionalist and despised Cornelia for charting her own path in the military. To her it was unseemly and unrefined, the exact opposite of what a noble lady was supposed to be.

Cornelia had always dreamed of knights and the glory of battle, not of damsels in distress. And Empress Marianne... she had reinforced that dream. She had been first in many achievements from piloting a knightmare to becoming a female knight. Without her, Cornelia wondered if she would have succumbed to social pressure.

Turning her gaze back to Euphie, she replied, "Once you have a reason Euphie. Try to enjoy your time with Mother for now."

Euphie pouted. "But I want to be like you!"

Little siblings were adorable. "I'd rather you be Euphie. Do whatever you want to."

Euphie opened her mouth to reply, then froze, turning around and curtsied. "Your Highness."

Stunned, Cornelia turned around and saw Empress Marianne in a royal blue dress sitting in her wheelchair, refined as ever. Despite no longer standing tall, she still commanded a regal and deadly presence. Behind her, the Knight of One, Bismark Waldstein towered. Instinctively, Cornelia dropped to her knees, uncaring for the skirt sweeping the grass, and bowed her head.. Her heart hammered within her chest and eagerness rushed through her. Her lady had returned. Perhaps Cornelia's failure could finally be absolved. "Your Highness, please forgive me."

Lady Marianne's light laughter danced off the walls and she rolled forward. "Cornelia, Euphie. Please. No need for such formalities."

Cornelia rose unsteadily. Did that mean she was forgiven? Had Cornelia proven herself after failing in her honored duty to protect Lady Marianne? It felt... too easy. Keeping her head bowed respectfully, her eyes observed her lady, noticing the slight signs of weariness and fatigue, and her mother drilling holes into Lady Marianne's back. Of course. Despite knowing that Lady Marianne held the Emperor's favor, her mother continued to be pointlessly antagonistic. Cornelia's eyes narrowed at the woman.

Her mother sniffed. "My daughters, shall we convene for tea and biscuits? Or will your business be concluded momentarily?"

Cornelia scowled at her mother who simply raised an eyebrow in return.

Lady Marianne shook her head. "No need Victoria," her mother grimaced, but Lady Marianne continued on, "my business is rather brief and Charles is expecting me this evening. If I could have a moment alone with Cornelia, that would be much appreciated. It is her business after all."

Gleefully, Cornelia turned her back to her mother and bowed her head to Lady Marianne. "How may I serve you?"

Rolling up to her, Lady Marianne cast a quick glance at Euphie, "How are you my dear? I'm afraid I have some urgent business to discuss with your sister."

Cornelia's back straightened. Urgent. Was she being called back into service? Did Lady Marianne have need for her skills once more?

Euphie stared at her shoes and swayed side to side. "I'm fine. How's Nunnally? And Lelouch? I miss them."

Resting a hand on Euphie's shoulder, Marianne replied softly, "I'm glad. They're fine and I'm sure they miss you too. They're a little busy at the moment, but if you have a letter or something you want to send them, I can pass it along."

Euphie's face lit up and her eyes widened. "Really?"

"Yes Euphie." Marianne smiled softly. "Why don't you run along dear?"

Cornelia watched her sister depart and her mother follow behind, her nose still stuck in the air. The gentle calm smile slipped off Marianne's face and Sir Waldstein wandered to the door, ensuring there would be no interruptions. This was not a social visit.

Empress Marianne, shifting into her authoritative voice that left no room for questions, ordered, "You are requested to present yourself tomorrow at the HEA Carlton and be ready for long term deployment."

War. The Empire was finally done playing to the E.U's tune. Cornelia's hands clenched. She was ready. "Thank you, your highness. I will make you proud."

That was a promise. Lady Marianne only came because of her duty; Cornelia wasn't forgiven yet. She had to prove herself worthy. The enemy would learn to cower before Cornelia's name, just like they did for Empress Marianne. Cornelia snapped to attention and saluted.

Lady Marianne nodded. "I'm sure you will," a quirk of her lips, "Brigadier Cornelia."

A promotion. A significant one. Cornelia snapped her mouth shut as her cheeks heated up.

"You did exceptional work in Area 11. Unfortunately, Jeremiah Gottwald has tendered his resignation from military duty given his father's death. Is there anyone you would trust to protect you on the battlefield? Royalty of all kinds will be a prime target," Lady Marianne finished, her eyes glancing at Sir Waldstein.

Cornelia pursed her lips as she considered those that served beneath her. Jeremiah had always been loyal and fierce. It was a shame to lose his service and she knew that others would be less than pleased about her rank. "Sir Guilford. He has proven himself... You're not asking me to pick a Knight of Honor?"

"Considering that I failed to have done that as well, no." Lady Marianne relaxed and snorted slightly. "I do hope that if you ever pick one, that you'll show them proper decorum unlike your youth."

Her cheeks burned. "It wasn't like that!"

Questioningly, Lady Marianne teased, "No? You didn't collude with your brothers?"

Cornelia had known it to be a terrible idea at the time, but she had let Schneizel talk her into it. Never again. "It was Schneizel's fault."

Lady Marianne threw back her head and laughed. "I believe Odysseus said the same thing at the time. Just so you know, your father and I found it to be absolutely adorable. We never imagined that you would be so invested in our relationship."

Looking down, she mumbled, "I don't want to talk about it."

Looking at her watch, Lady Marianne said, "It seems I must go. If you bring Euphie's letter along tomorrow, I can make sure that Lelouch and Nunnally will receive it. Good luck Brigadier Cornelia."

Cornelia watched Lady Marianne wheel away, followed by the sharp strikes of Bismarck's boots as he shadowed her. War had been expected, awaited, the only surprise, was when. The invasion of the Philippines was about to commence. It would be glorious and swift. Her eyes flickered to her sword. Yes. She would prove herself once again in the eyes of Lady Marianne and the rest of the Britannian military. A War of Conquest. There would be much honor to find... and, her eyes drifted to a small pink rose, it would grant her the prestige to protect her sister without using her mother's influence.

The smile slid away. Euphie. Cornelia had promised to stay... but now she was leaving. Somehow, she would have to make it up to her. Intent on apologizing, she walked inside, her hand resting on the pommel of her sword. Euphie would be disappointed, but this was necessary. Brigadier... Slowly, and surely, she was reaching her dream. Like Empress Marianne, she too, would lead troops to victory. The Empire's blade. Or maybe she and Lady Marianne would be the dual blades of the Empire. There was a nice ring to that: Princes Cornelia of the Dual Blades.

Standing rigidly by the opulent staircase cared from artisan marble, her mother scowled. "Off to war? At least Euphie still has a chance to be a real lady."

"Do you have to be so confrontational all the time, Mother? I'm sure that Empress Marianne notices and she does have the Emperor's ear. Even you must admit that."

"A commoner wench," dismissed her mother casually, "you would do well not to align yourself with such deplorable elements. I should have never consented to Euphie associating with her children, even if they're half-royal."

Narrowing her eyes, Cornelia hissed, "Lelouch acts more befitting of royalty than yourself. I will align myself with whoever I wish and you will not sway my decision. You would rather endorse incompetency, than admit a fault."

"If you must gallivant off in the army, I can at least ensure that Euphemia prospers outside of your influences."

Cornelia took a step forward and glared. "You will not marry off my sister to satisfy your own ambitions. Just because you failed to curry favor with the Emperor, does not mean that you can sell Euphie to increase your standing."

Her mother rolled her eyes. "It's hardly selling Cornelia. It's called duty, something of which you seem to fail to understand. Do you think I argued with your grandfather when he told me to woo one of the contenders for the Imperial throne."

"And your silence has brought you what? A lavish home where you waste away accomplishing nothing of worth?" Cornelia shot back. "Your marriage tore your family apart! There is no one left but us, and you would repeat the mistakes of the past. Your father married your cousin to Emperor Brandon... and then, you, to Prince Charles. Instead of securing our family's safety, it tore us apart. The first memory I have is of the maid attempting to whisk me away. Your cousin hired her, didn't she?"

Her mother looked down at the ground, her shoulders dropping. "Yes, she did. And I know, the Emperor cares for none of his wives. We were all just tools to the throne and we foolishly thought he would elevate us in return as tradition demands. Instead... we are left at the wayside as he dotes on beautiful Marianne. Even confined to a wheelchair, she doesn't lose his favor. Why do you think I had Euphemia? It wasn't your desperate pleading for a younger sister. It was my last gambit to gain favor as he continued to court other women."

Her mother had never said anything and Cornelia felt her chest tighten. Softly, she replied, "That may be, but leave Euphie out of it. She will make her own decisions on how to govern her life. Shackling her will crush her."

Her mother grimaced. "And without the protection of marriage that you casually shrug off, we will die when the Emperor's heart finally succumbs to old age and bacon grease. His successor will have no use for the old Emperor's wives, especially myself as I'm no longer in my prime. Since my family spent all our political capital in the Emblem of Blood, there is nothing left to bargain with. We'll be worse off than paupers. Think about that as you dally around with personal ambitions."

A sharp gasp interrupted them and Euphie hurtled down the stairs, slamming into Cornelia and clinging desperately to her skirt. "Sister, you're not leaving? You promised!"

Cornelia knelt. "I'm sorry Euphie, but duty," she shot a sharp look at her mother, "calls. I'll be back before you know it, and you know what? I think I can arrange for you to attend the Imperial Academy. You'll be able to make many friends."

"Really? I'd love that" Euphie looked up, nibbling on her lip and then glanced around the room. "That's what Lady Marianne wanted to talk to you about: war. She left already, didn't she" frowning, Euphie pulled out a thick envelope, "I wanted to give this to her for Lelouch and Nunnally. I tried to be quick"

Cornelia ran her finger along the fine stationery. "Don't worry Euphie. Lady Marianne was really sorry to miss you and told me that if I bring it along tomorrow, she'll make sure they get it."

"Honest?" Euphie asked, beaming.

"Yes," Cornelia clasped Euphie's fingers around the envelope. "Why don't you take your time, and I'll pick it up before I head out tomorrow morning. Go on."

Nodding quickly, Euphie twirled around and shouted, "Thank you!" before half stumbling up the stairs as she dashed off.

Pursing her lips, her mother gestured up the stairs. "You cannot promise that."

"You'll find that I can," Cornelia raised her chin, "I'm an asset to the Empire and I've been promoted for my service. That affords me the privilege of asking for a favor. Unlike you, I have proven myself of continued use. So has Empress Marianne, which is why she continues to curry favor from the Emperor, while you've fallen out of relevance."

Brushing past her mother, Cornelia strode up the stairs. Her mother remained silent and Cornelia couldn't help the swell of victory in her chest. At last, she had the last word against her mother. It had to mean something... instead it felt hollow. Her mother was a shell of a being, despite her overbearing presence in every aspect of Cornelia's life. A victory against an opponent who had given up years ago, was no victory after all.

Ashford Academy, Area 11

Nunnally's finger stopped skimming, resting on a frayed punched hole as she tried to understand what her brother had said. Gliding her finger back, she reread, and no, it was the same. Lelouch wasn't safe as he had claimed, but deployed in Area Two. More irritatingly, if it hadn't been for his need of a favor, he would have let her continue to believe that he was safe.

Concerned, Allie asked, "Nunnally? You're glowering. Did something happen?"

"Lelouch lied to me," she huffed. "He told me last week that everything was fine!"

Allie chuckled nervously. "You didn't tell Lelouch about Sally because you didn't want to worry him."

"It's not the same," Nunnally groaned and then slumped, her forehead hitting the cool wood. "It's the same, isn't it? Why? I lied, he lied, all because we don't want to worry each other... Now, I'll never know if I have to actually be worried."

The table shuddered slightly as Allie said, "Maybe you want to tell your brother that. But he's halfway around the world. You can't really help him, nor can he help you. Maybe it's for the best?"

Nunnally shoved the letter to Allie. "He's in combat! He could die! But noooo, all he was talking about how much he hated his drill exercises. I just," she massaged her temple, "I want to know, I have to know... I can't lose Lelouch."

Allie quieted. "Oh, that's quite different. Is he okay?"

Clenching her fists, she sighed. "Well, obviously I don't know because he keeps lying!"

"Maybe he told the truth this time? Like, I'm sure he didn't want to tell you, but he did, so maybe he feels guilty."

Nunnally huffed. "No. Apparently some friends of his have mail trouble, so he needs me to send their letters."

"Oh," Allie trailed off, clearly unsure on how to respond to that.

Sliding her hand along the table, Nunnally found the errant paper again and she trailed her finger along, looking for her spot. Perhaps she was overreacting? Or had misread? The words did not change. Her brother was in a warzone... and had lied to her about it.

The door banged open and Milly flounced inside, trailed by three other pairs of footsteps. "Hello Allie! Hello Nunnally! Ah, you haven't met Nina Einstein yet. She's the new treasurer. Nina, don't be shy! Say hi to Nunnally!"

A shy voice squeaked, "Hi."

"Hmm," Milly noticed, "you're rather dour today. Everything alright with you two? Having trouble filling out your middle school student council?"

"Don't remind me," bemoaned Allie, "but no, regardless of our trouble in finding qualified candidates, because we don't just grab random people, Nunnally has a letter from her brother."

Nunnally set the letter down again, trying to remember how far down the page she was, because it seemed she wouldn't have the peace and quiet to finish the letter. Crossing her arms, she hissed, "Lelouch is deployed in a combat position in Area Two... And has been for a while now too. He lied."

Milly hissed and a loud thud cut through the room. The table trembled beneath the sudden onslaught of weight as the president yelled, "Lelouch is what! But he's..."

Nunnally grimaced in sympathy, knowing that Milly had nearly brought up his status as a prince. It did bring up a good question. How had Lelouch even gained such an assignment? Surely her mother was displeased with this development as well and should have had enough influence to prevent it. "I don't know how it happened, Milly."

Rivalz consoled, "I'm sorry Nunnally. I'm sure your brother will be fine. Empress Marianne took care of most of the terrorists, otherwise we wouldn't be establishing Area Twelve."

Horrified, Shirley cut in, "Don't be so crass Rivalz. And it's not fine. Everyone just forgot about Area Two because of the invasion. They still have curfews and my uncle is really worried. I really hope your brother won't get caught up in the skirmishes. If you need anything, I'm here."

Nunnally smiled sadly at Shirley. "He's already caught up in it. Although he calls them 'minor alterations' and 'civilian disputes' and such. He's still trying to make sure I don't worry..." she paused as the pieces slid into place, "which means it isn't minor! And I should worry."

Milly paced the room. "Lelouch tends to understate things all the time. Or obscure the truth. I don't understand why he can't trust people!

"It's not that hard. The world isn't out to get him."

"Wait," Allie cut in, "how do you know Lelouch?"

Nunnally froze as she listened to Milly stutter her reply, "Lelouch he... he did... he did accounting for my grandfather! And then, sometimes... sometimes, they had to meet... and... and I would... I would see him and we talked?"

For someone who thrived on chaos, Milly was terribly unconvincing. Nunnally heard her heart pound as she waited for someone to call her out on the fib and their newfound identity and life, to fall down like a house of cards. Milly stopped pacing and Nunnally could hear her shuddering breath and her foot tapping the ground.

Finally, Allie replied, "Right. He did do that, but I doubt that would have left such an... impression. But keep your secrets. Nunnally, are you going to send the letters for Lelouch's friends?"

Nibbling on her lip, she considered it and nodded. "Yes. Lelouch wouldn't have asked if it wasn't important... and at least they're less likely to lie since he transcribed them all in braille for some reason." She shook her head in exasperation as she grabbed the additional letters. "I don't know what the point is, but Lelouch never asks for help... so, I will."

Shirley chimed in, "We could help you? It would be really cool to learn braille and then it would be like we have a secret student council member language... But you better chew him out for lying to you. That's not okay."

"I know!" Milly continued, "We'll write him a letter from the entire student council! And we can include pictures and stuff and we'll make him feel super guilty."

"Yes!" Shirley jumped up, "And then he'll never do that to Nunnally again."

Rivalz asked, "Does Lelouch like anything in particular? We could send him a care package. It might not be much, but anything can help, right?"

Nunnally's face heated up at the overwhelming excitement of her friends. "I'm not sure he'll stop lying... but it can't hurt to try. And we can't send food or so Rivalz. It will be confiscated."

Rivalz, undeterred, pulled out a chair beside her and his pen skidded, as he began to jot things down. "I'll just beg my parents for a favor. Your brother will receive everything!"

"And grandfather can surely pull some strings as well," Milly added as she skipped over to Rivalz's spot. "We should include chocolate! And maybe some fruit, like oranges or bananas."

The new student council member, Nina, who had previously been silent, suggested quietly, "I don't really know you Nunnally, or your brother... but maybe we can send him some first aid supplies?"

Nunnally sent an encouraging smile in the girl's direction. "Thank you. That's a good idea."

As the other members of the student council clamored at the opposite end of the table, discussing potential things to send in a care package, Nunnally walked to the corner of the room where the braille typewriter was set up. There were three important letters she had to write. One to chastise Lelouch and plead with him to tell her the truth. But, that was probably a losing battle. Therefore, she would write another letter. Nunnally had her own questions for her mother and at least she might tell Nunnally the truth concerning how Lelouch had ended up in combat. Lastly, she had to compose a reply to Euphie who had sent a letter out of the blue. She secured the paper in the typewriter.

"Are you writing to Lelouch?" Allie asked, walking up behind her.

Nunnally shook her head. "No. My mother. She knew and didn't tell me."

"Your family has serious communication issues... Do you mind if I tell Gwen? She's going to freak out."

"You know what?" Nunnally decided, "Go ahead. If everyone calls him out, then maybe Lelouch will finally understand. Maybe..." And even if he didn't, Nunnally could console herself imagining his reactions to receiving an avalanche of letters. He was going to be so mad at her for telling everyone, but he deserved it.

"Nunnally," Allie whispered, resting a hand on her shoulder, "you know that you can trust me? I know that the truth can hurt, but I can handle it. I won't be mad or anything. You're my best friend... please."

Nunnally's heart yearned to spill the secrets she closely guarded. Allie was her best friend and had even conceded that Milly might not be that bad for a noble. All she had to say was the truth and the invisible wall between them would shatter and Nunnally would finally be able to relax. Just four simple words would explain everything: I'm Nunnally vi Britannia.

Instead, "Milly is just embarrassed, Allie. I don't know what happened exactly, but Lelouch got one over her."

A palpable feeling of disappointment reinforced the wall and Allie whispered, "Of course..."

Royal Palace, New Pendragon

Charles stood up, scattering the various paperwork across the desk, and walked to the window, his eyes scanning the countryside thirsting for the early Fall showers. At last, he had signed the bill to prevent Duels of Honors and the sweeping redistribution of titles, as nobility challenged each other to knightmare combat. It should have been an easy sell to the nobles on the land, but for some unfathomable reason, Margrave Oberstein had rallied the traditionalists with Margrave Greenford to defend the Duels of Honor. It should have been easy, but all the traditionalists could see was the loss of a political tool, not the wave of unrest rippling through the Empire.

Due to the idiotic posturing of the nobility, Charles had to wait to pass the new law until it could be swept beneath the excitement of a new War of Conquest. Utterly ridiculous. Charles shook his head and returned to his desk to finally use his computer, because at least Lord Ashford understood the benefit of digital communications. Or perhaps the other lords sent their missives by paper to ensure that Charles couldn't deal with them in a timely manner.

Massaging his temples, he scanned Lord Ashford's email and the copious number of attachments. It had been Marianne's idea to request Lord Ashford to use his party to investigate the attending nobles. Unfortunately, it seemed they had learned nothing new although Charles would need to set one of his unspeakables to sift through the vast amount of collected information and make sure Lord Ashford hadn't missed anything, and barring that, obtain blackmail material on some rather irritating nobles. Charles's eyes twitched as he read through Lord Ashford's musings on who was behind the attempted assassination on Lelouch.

Nothing he didn't already know. Marianne would not be pleased. Things would be so much easier if he could use the OSI and geass agents, but he hadn't been able to rule out V.V. as the perpetrator.

A sharp knock on the door and Charles suspended the computer. "You may enter."

"Your majesty, apologies for disturbing you." Schneizel bowed deeply and waited at the edge of the room for permission to be seated.

Charles raised his eyebrows. Schneizel was only formal when he wanted something. "Spit it out."

A half grimace flitted across his son's face, before he decided to abandon propriety and walk forward. "You need to stop Odysseus."

That... was unexpected. Schneizel and Odysseus rarely involved him in their affairs, preferring to resolve their differences in private, away from prying eyes and ears. "And what should I be stopping?"

"He's making a mess of things," Schneizel complained, looking uncharacteristically aggravated."He insists on cracking down on the military for hiring underage children. The military will not accept this, but he won't listen to logical reason, and is going to ruin... himself by following his bleeding heart."

"A child cannot legally sign a contract under the age of fourteen. If Odysseus has finally decided to involve himself with enforcing justice in the Empire, I see no reason to stop him. The damage he can do is minimal and it should be good practice," Charles calmly replied although, internally, he made a note to keep an eye on his eldest son. Odysseus finally showing a shred of ambition was advantageous, but not if he the military actually mutinied in protest.

Schneizel crossed his arms. "Because he's your heir?"

Charles was not blind to the tacit agreement between his two eldest sons, but this was the first time Schneizel had ever raised the issue. "Odysseus is my first born, thus he is my heir. I will of course encourage his attempts to step into the limelight and prove himself."

Taking a small step forward, Schneizel glowered. "As the Emperor, you decide on the order of succession. You choose to keep Odysseus as the Crown Prince and make him a public target. Nobody would blink an eye if you changed the order of succession. They're expecting the order to change. Instead you keep Odysseus as a target, a role which will lead to his death, because my brother is utterly unprepared for such a task."

"I think you underestimate your brother," Charles said as he began to tidy his desk. "He would love for the world to forget about him and sink into obscurity. And yes, I know he will abdicate, but that puts him in a position of favor, instead of a target. Everyone either vies for my favor or Odysseus', depending on who they think will kick the bucket first. And since I have barely meddled with the order of succession, the assumption is that I will allow succession to fall to Guinevere if something happens to Odysseus, despite her... temperament being unsuited to the throne."

Schneizel's face soured. "She would drain the coffers within a month."

"You're hardly the first to have come to such a conclusion and therefore take a vested interest in ensuring that she never becomes the Crown Princess. The current state of affairs keeps Odysseus safe," Charles continued dryly, "although it warms my heart that you show such concern over your brother's well being."

The entire mess could have been avoided had Odysseus proved himself to be moderately skilled at something of actual worth. Of course Odysseus took great care to never actually appear as a legitimate contender to the throne, and thus, even if Odysseus had some talent, Charles wouldn't know. It did help, Charles admitted to himself, that he was rather fond of his first born. Irritatingly, he could never pin down exactly why he held a soft spot for his son, but it existed.

"Who would you prefer to take the throne?" Schneizel challenged.

Charles smirked and replied with what he knew would infuriate his son, "It hardly concerns me. I'll be dead by then. You may squabble over the pieces as you wish."

"Another Emblem of Blood? So we can repeat the mistakes of the past? Do you care so little for the rest of us that you would throw the lives of your children, your grandchildren, and your wives to the wind? "

It must infuriate his son to think that Charles would leave something that monumental to chance. It put Schneizel's own plans in jeopardy and while the cold anger of his youth was no longer to be found, Charles could still spot the burning need to be in control despite all of his son's masks. Of course what Schneizel failed to realize was that Charles didn't intend for his legacy to be a wake of destruction and therefore had contingencies in effect should he die before executing Ragnarok. The world would know peace. The lies would end.

But the game had to be played and Schneizel's inability to see the human element, made him easy to manipulate as Odysseus, who suffered from the opposite flaw. "Dead men can hardly care, Schneizel. If it really concerns you that much, go reign in your brother on your own so he doesn't shake the status quo."

Although... Considering Odysseus's intent to crack down on the abuse of young children, it could give Charles another angle to tackle Lelouch's attempted assassin. After all, Odysseus was most likely not the culprit.

Before Schneizel could reply, Charles continued, "Perhaps you should steer your brother to consider all children. It will prevent him from focusing on the military entirely and give you the time to smooth tensions that will arise between him and the military. Force him to look at the practical aspects, because while he may wish to void every contract signed by a minor, the majority are no longer minors and may have built successful lives in the military. Odysseus will hardly wish to punish the children who were taken advantage of."

Schneizel tilted his head as he considered the offer and the cool mask of politeness slipped back onto his face. With no trace of his previous aggravation, Schneizel said, "Thank you... father. I will take your plan under advisement. It might solve my dilemma with Odysseus. May I be dismissed?"

"Of course Schniezel, and good luck," Charles replied.

The door shut and the edges of his mouth quirked upwards. It was a simple distraction that would keep both of his sons occupied and, as a bonus, would ensure the military remained under control. Hopefully, Odysseus's love for humanitarian projects combined with stumbling upon a rather pervasive issue, if he understood Marianne correctly, would incite some passion within his son. In which case, the resulting chaos would provide enough cover to hide Charles's own investigations.

Feeling pleased, he dialed Marianne's number and pulled out the reports regarding Lelouch.

After a few rings, Marianne finally answered, "Charles, you do know it's five in the morning here? I have inspections to carry out and a battle to prepare for."

Time zone differences were incredibly annoying. "Sorry Marianne. I unfortunately have meetings arranged for the rest of the afternoon. Lord Ashford's report came back."

"Did he find anything?" Marianne asked, suddenly attentive.

"He sent the footage and audio files. I'll be having my own agents comb through them, but Lord Ashford says he didn't find anything himself," Charles paused as he scanned the email again, "he did state his intention to investigate Earl Seymour, but doesn't believe there is a connection between the man and Lelouch."

"So nothing?" Marianne sighed. "It was a long shot, but I trust Reuben. If he thinks there is something to investigate, there probably is."

Charles snorted. Lord Ashford would have happily remained neutral though the entire Emblem of Blood if it weren't for Marianne gaining his attention. And even then, Lord Ashford would have happily remained holed up in his lab and ignored the Empire's concern. In fact, that was what the man had done.

"He is trustworthy," chided Marianne.

"To you perhaps, but not the Empire. I would trust Margrave Greenford to act in the interest of the Empire over him, even if he is currently trying to court Guinevere through his nephew. Lord Ashford cares for one thing only: his research."

"He does get rather passionate about his research," Marianne conceded, "but he's hardly going to betray the Empire over it."

"Do you know how much foreign art that man has bought?"

"That hardly proves anything. I happen to love French films, but you're not accusing me of being a French agent."

Massaging his nose, Charles replied, "I'm not accusing him of being a foreign agent... just not being devoted to the Empire. If Lord Ashford is loyal to anyone, it is you Marianne. Not me."

"I owe him quite a bit Charles. I know I pushed him into politics and if it weren't for that, he wouldn't be investigating other lords or holding sting operations for us. Just try to make sure he doesn't get over his head," Marianne pleaded.

"I can provide Lord Ashford with a guard if that would help," Charles offered, neglecting to mention that such a gift would allow Charles to keep a better eye on the man as well.

"That would be helpful. Reuben is having trouble finding people he can trust, so if they can help as well it would go a long way. And a second pair of eyes on Ashford Academy wouldn't be remiss. Any news regarding you know? He's being terribly unforthcoming in his letters. The OSI agent is being entirely factual on the other hand, which barely tells me anything."

Glancing at the letter on his desk, Charles grimaced. "Lelouch is still healthy, although my agent's reports are a bit baffling. He's asking if Lelouch is another operative, for some reason."

"Great," Marianne huffed, "he apparently has the bearings of one of your unspeakables."

"I would tell them the truth, but while they have strict orders to protect his life, the more people who know Lelouch's identity, the more likely it is to slip. It's probably some of his mannerisms or so. Regardless, Lelouch has been in combat a few times, but their squadron has mostly escaped combat unscathed outside of the first time. You probably have your OSI agent to thank for that."

"I already knew that," Marianne complained and muffled shouting could be heard on the other end, "I need to go soon. Tell me how he is doing personally. Surely your agent knows something."

"The panic attacks haven't occurred again—"

"Panic attacks?" Marianne stressed, "What panic attacks? He never had panic attacks."

Charles frowned as he flipped the report to the relevant page. "My agent speculates they're due to having been forced to kill two attackers... so the assassin... There was only one assassin."

Marianne swore. "I should have listened to Reuben more. It could have been Japan, most likely was... What if he believes the boy is dead... and he's blaming himself? I should have done something. He's a child… Why did he have to befriend a stupid number!"

Listening to Marianne worry, Charles finished the rest of the report. "He seems to be doing well all things considered and has been acquiring better equipment from his squadron through the black market. Apparently, he is also running an underground operation to smuggle letters out to raise the necessary funds. That's... worrisome."

"It's hardly surprising Charles. At least if the letters are going through him, he knows what is in them and the OSI... damn it York. I told him to stop trying to recruit him. You could try to send them an allowance under Mary, like you do for the rest of your children, but just a small amount. No need to be decadent and raise suspicion."

Charles rubbed his forehead. "Yes, Guinevere's allowance is rather excessive, yet she still ends up begging me for more at the end of every month. Clovis blew through his too. I'll send something to Nunnally, she will probably be more reasonable about accepting it, considering Lelouch quite frequently states, in public, that he doesn't care for his parents." The brat.

Marianne sighed. "Well I knew that already. He's quite explicit in his letters regarding that. But speaking of her, I don't have time to find an appropriate birthday present and—"

Before Marianne could continue, Charles cut across, "No."

"But,"

"Absolutely not."

"Please?"

"I don't even know what she likes!"

"It isn't that hard Charles. Put some effort into it, or ask one of your agents what a child likes. I'm sure she'll be thrilled to receive anything, she isn't Guinevere."

Glaring at the phone, he hissed, "Fine. I'll get Nunnally a birthday present. At least she knows how to be polite."

Stadtfeld Manor, Area 11

Reuben approached the homely building, surrounded by a lavish garden slowly as he drank in the sight. The architecture, while Britannian in nature, had a distinct foreign edge and he gazed at the cherry blossoms lining the wall in appreciation. It had obviously been built before the invasion and Baron Stadtfeld must have moved in afterwards. Distantly, he remembered the shipping tycoon dealt with foreign trade, and perhaps had built the house for when he had business in Japan. Reuben nodded appreciatively. Even if the meeting turned out to be a complete waste of time, he could appreciate the man's taste and acknowledge the man's fortitude for not tearing down the building after the invasion for a house in a more appropriate style of architecture.

Stopping before the door, Reuben let his new... assistant, Thomas, scurry past him and knock on the door. Thomas stood rigidly and Reuben knew the man would protect him with his life, if the meeting was actually an underhanded assassination attempt. Of course, Thomas had little freedom in that and his almost fervent loyalty unnerved Reuben. But Marianne had insisted, so here he was, with another so called gift that he didn't want: an unspeakable. Reuben didn't condone the practice, but he knew better to reject such a generous gift from the Emperor, who was also probably being used to spy on him. Reuben detested gifts.

A young maid opened the door, her eyes focused on the ground and Thomas took a step forward to announce Reuben. Surprisingly, despite the name, unspeakables actually did talk. Reuben had felt distinctly paranoid after that realization, because anyone could be a spy.

The maid, still not looking up, led them through the foyer and into the drawing room. She then took their coats, while another maid brought in a tray of steaming tea and a plate of biscuits. Reuben stretched forward to serve himself, when Thomas, subtly intercepted, and broke one in half and tried it gingerly. Resisting the urge to pinch his nose, Reuben leaned back. It was highly unlikely he was going to be poisoned, but if it eased Thomas's burden, then he would abstain from the tantalizing sweets.

A well dressed man in an immaculate suit with a wide bulky build and shrewd blue eyes, entered the room and offered his hand to Reuben. "Baron Stadtfeld. A pleasure to make your acquaintance Margrave Ashford. I hope our business will be concluded to your satisfaction."

Reuben rose, graciously accepting the handshake. "Of course Lord Stadtfeld. Your request to a meeting was intriguing."

Lord Stadtfeld relaxed and sat down, "Of course sir. You are a busy man I understand, so I will attempt to be brief. I understand that you have some trade issues due to an informal boycott of your goods by other lords. For the right price, of course, I'm willing to help ease this burden. I have numerous contacts in Britannia and around the world who would happily buy through me."

Observing the lord, Reuben considered the offer. It was true that Reuben's land had suffered economically due to the manipulations of other lords. Tax revenue had fallen short of expected figures although the royalties from knightmare production left Reuben with more liquid capital than he was used to. For his own constituents, a trade relationship would be incredibly fruitful and ease their burden. But such a relationship, wouldn't come without a hefty price for Lord Stadtfeld risked having his own business boycotted by associating with Reuben.

"And the price for such a generous arrangement?"

Lord Stadtfeld tugged on his sleeves and straightened his shirt. "I would be undertaking quite a bit of risk and as such I feel like I should have my own security. An exclusive arrangement would suit me quite well?"

No request for an upfront fee or other compensation such as through marriage. The man was too desperate for a deal that Reuben would be a fool to turn down. After all, Lord Stadtfeld was right; he would substantially improve the economy in Reuben's holdings and the stability of such an arrangement, would ensure that his lands would prosper. No. There was a hidden cost that he wasn't seeing.

Glancing at the man's fidgeting hands, Reuben prodded, "It is a generous offer, but I hesitate to tie my lands to one man's fortune. The other noble's minds will surely be swayed in time and it is just a temporary setback, offset by the knightmare production, which will only improve as time passes."

Lord Stadtfeld grimaced briefly, but was quickly replaced by a genial smile. "I'm sure we can work something out Lord Ashford. If you do not trust me, surely there is something that would prove my sincerity."

The truth would help. Reuben allowed none of his suspicion to show as he evaluated the desperate man. He had to appear hesitant to accept the offer, but not too much, so Lord Stadtfeld would continue to attempt to negotiate. The limit of their negotiations would determine the degree of the man's desperation and if he truly needed Reuben or any sorry high ranking lord.

"I only do business with those I trust. It is good for my health."

Lord Stadtfeld glanced to the door and quietly, he continued, "I'm of course willing to tie my fortune to yours. If you wish, you could foster my daughter? Or perhaps a closer position should your granddaughter be willing."

The side door flew open and a young man, with rusty red hair stormed forward, yelling, "Otosan! You're not bargaining Kallen off!"

Reuben raised his arm to prevent Thomas from interfering, as he observed the blood drain from Lord Stadtfeld's face and his efforts to try and shoo the young man from the room. A son... A Japanese son.

"You are disturbing the honorable Margrave Ashford! I will have you fired for this!"

Lifting his arm, Reuben decided to end the charade and ordered, "Both of you sit down. Thomas?"

Thomas walked forward threateningly and the boy's eyes widened and he stumbled back into the couch, his face as pale as his father's, as he realized his mistake. Lord Stadtfeld looked around hopelessly, before sitting down, slumping.

"Please," Lord Stadtfeld began.

Reuben cut him off, "No need. That is your son," smiling at the boy, "I'm afraid we haven't had proper introductions. Margrave Ashford. And you?"

Puffing his chest, the boy replied defiantly, "Naoto... Kozuki."

Lord Stadtfeld's hands clenched, but any words died on his lips as Reuben sent him a look.

"I see, and am I right to assume that your mother is Japanese? Or rather is an Eleven?"

"Japanese," Naoto hissed.

"You sister as well?"

Naoto fell silent and glanced at his father desperately.

Lord Stadtfeld straightened, held himself rigid and stared directly into Reuben's eyes. "Naoto is not part of our negotiations. My marriage occurred years before the invasion, and thus was legal. I will protect my children, despite their half-Number status, even if that means facing you, Margrave Ashford."

"You were seeking a trade deal to ensure an income stream when the scandal broke. I would be unable to turn you away due to contractual obligations and you would be able to weather the storm. As I would be tied to your prosperity as well, you hoped that if the scandal did break, I would use my substantial influence, to protect my business interests, and by extension, your family."

Lord Stadtfeld's jaw dropped slightly, but he composed himself to answer, "Yes. That was the plan."

"Why didn't you just claim your children as bastards? Considering you were willing to hand over your daughter as a hostage to me, she must look more Britannian than your son. Why even take that risk? You don't know me. For all you know, I would have taken revenge on your deception by abusing your daughter."

Grimacing, Lord Stadtfeld defended, "I've heard that you are a good man, one not prone to violence. My foreign partners speak of you well and your willingness to do business implies you're less... hostile to non-Britannians."

Reuben loathed politics, but it was all too apparent that Lord Stadtfeld had no understanding of the higher noble court. He breathed business and judging from the success of Stadtfeld Shipping, possessed a shrewd mind or had the wisdom to listen to those smarter than him. Those skills would pay no dividends in court, where a contract was just a flimsy piece of paper.

"You have no idea how lucky you are," Reuben settled on, "Before you attempt to try and swindle another noble, know they all protect their interests vehemently, with blood if need be. Yes, I consider myself a good man, but you didn't even consider how I managed to keep the knightmare under wraps for over a decade. It was not by being kind."

Lord Stadtfeld gulped.

"Fortunately for you, I'm not in the habit of employing assassins," although Thomas was probably trained as one and Reuben purposefully locked that thought away, "nor am I sadist. Why don't we invite the rest of your family before we discuss this further?"

Wary, Lord Stadfteld stood up. "My wife and I had previously agreed that in the event of the invasion... that Naoto would be claimed as a bastard and I would support them off on the side, but then... It's probably best if you follow me Lord Ashford. I guess there's no point lying anymore. It won't gain me much of anything."

Raising his eyebrows, Reuben let Lord Stadtfeld lead the way, Thomas falling into step behind him. Reuben would have to be careful, for tonight's events would surely find their way to the Emperor's ears and he was much less tolerant of the Numbers than Reuben. Already, Thomas was more of a burden. The lord stopped in the middle of the hallway, and gently knocked on the wall. Reuben watched appreciatively as the fake wall swung open. Lord Stadtfeld had some intelligence after all.

A young woman stood in the secret doorway, her eyes switching between Reuben and her husband, and clutching the toddler in arms tightly. The piece of the puzzle fell in place. A young child had scrapped the lord's previous plans. If he cared for his child, he wouldn't turn them to the street and support them privately, not when disease and violence ran rampant. There was no way to win, and such, Lord Stadtfeld had sought to play for time for his child and turned to Reuben for help.

"Who's he?" a young red haired girl asked, pointing at him rudely.

"Kallen, be polite," the mother hissed and then gave a wobbling curtsy, "nice to meet you my lord."

Noticing Lord Stadtfeld standing rigidly by and Naoto visibly restraining himself from doing something rash, Reuben spoke up, "Why don't we all sit down? And we can discuss our options."

They ended up settling in the billiards room with a new kettle of tea and a stack of freshly prepared sandwiches. More attentive now, Reuben noticed the various servants looked rather Japanese. The wife settled on the couch, fussing over the toddler who wiggled out of her grasp and tugged on Kallen's red locks, babbling contently. Naoto, for his part, refused to sit down, preferring to stand in the corner of the room, mirroring Thomas.

Feeling an oncoming headache Reuben chose his words carefully, "Tomorrow, I will send a contract, making Stadtfeld Shipping my only client, unless, of course, your network is unable to accommodate certain deliveries. I don't foresee it being an issue, except with some of my labs that require rare materials or specialized equipment. The details can be hashed out later, but those are the broad strokes. There are no additional stipulations within the contract itself."

Naoto crossed his arms. "So Kallen isn't leaving?"

Carefully, Reuben continued, "Your younger sister is not being used as a bargaining piece and I won't separate her from her family. On the other hand, until the Honorary Britannian system is instated, your family is especially vulnerable. It might take additional time until non-military personnel can become Honorary Britannians. I assume you intend to have your staff become Honorary Britannians then? It's currently... a legal gray area since you're privately employing them."

Lord Stadtfeld relaxed slightly. "That is the hope. Quite a few of my former employees in Japan, Areal Eleven, are... stranded. I try to employ as many as I can. It's the least I can do."

Reuben nodded. Service should be rewarded and despite having no land to his name, Lord Stadtfeld understood that. Turning to Naoto, he asked, "And what did you want to do before the invasion?"

"A doctor. I was going to go to med school. But can't be a doctor anymore as a Number."

Reminded of the growing pile of requests for visas growing on his desk as hospitals and clinics begged for more personal, Reuben grasped the opportunity. "Legally, you're a Britannian although you might face heavy discrimination due to your blood status. Considering employment shortages, you can easily claim to be a bastard or such. Normally, an employer would conduct a background check and verify your status, but with an employment history, that can easily be skipped and most hospitals and clinics won't dig too far."

"I don't have an employment history, unless they're going to accept my Japanese resume."

"Congratulations," Reuben chortled, "you're hired. I need an intern and the Odysseus Medical Scholarship needs more applicants. You can join next year with me as your sponsor."

Naoto stared at him wide eyes, and finally, sat down. "That's it? Just like that?"

"Yes, although you'll need to change your last name... for obvious reasons. As for your mother, there isn't much I can do but speed up her application when the time comes. I'm afraid that she will need to remain out of sight... and as Kallen can easily pass as a full-blooded Britannian... Marriage will be necessary to allay suspicion. Nothing is illegal here of course, just a way to maintain your social standing."

"I already made the necessary arrangements. The youngest daughter of the Frankland family," he grimaced, "a woman of a rather nasty temperament, but she will remain quiet as long as I support her lavish lifestyle."

None of them looked particularly pleased at the prospect, but if they had already made arrangements, that was one less thing for Reuben to worry about. "Your wife, Mrs?"

"Miku Kozuki my lord," she replied softly.

"I'm afraid that you'll need to stay hidden for now Mrs. Kouzuki and your youngest as well. I understand that you probably wish to remain close to your family," she nodded, "and as such, I suggest you either pose as an employee of your husband, or eventually, one of my own. It will be up to you and you may change your mind when you wish. Lastly for Kallen..."

She glared at him. "I'm not working for you."

"No worries miss," Reuben raised his arms, "I was just going to suggest you attend Ashford Academy. You could interact with students your own age and—"

Kallen crossed her arms. "No. I don't want to."

Before Reuben could respond, Naoto cut in, "Kallen. You're going."

"It's a Britannian school filled with stupid Britannians."

Reuben rubbed his forehead. It was like dealing with Marianne, but instead of Numbers, it was Britannians.

Mrs. Kozuki glared at her daughter. "You're receiving an education young lady," Kallen opened her mouth to protest and her mother hissed at her in Japanese, overriding any protests.

Turning around, Kallen stared at her shoes hanging off the sofa, until a sharp order from her mother caused her to raise her head, and politely said, "I'm honored. I accept your gracious offer."

Way too similar to Marianne, Reuben decided, but he stood up slowly. "Well, it's getting late and unfortunately, I have a monstrous stack of paperwork awaiting me. Why don't you drop by tomorrow Lord Stadtfeld and we can iron out the remaining details for the contract and ensure Kallen's paperwork is in order to start school next week."

Lord Stadtfeld nodded and led him to the front door and shook his hand firmly. "Thank you Lord Ashford. We...are in your debt."

Holding his arms out, Reuben let the maid assist him with his coat. "You are lucky that I am eccentric. But my family will collect that debt in time. Until then, I wish you and your family good health."

Lord Stadtfeld's face soured as he recognized the chain. Nothing was free in this world, even a good deed. Of course, Reuben had simply said that so Thomas, the little spy, would hear. Hopefully, it would be enough for the Emperor to overlook Reuben skirting the word of law, and most definitely, the intent behind the law, because otherwise, Reuben would have to do some very fast talking to defend himself. Marianne's favor would not be enough to protect him if he pushed too far.

Worldbuilding Thoughts:

-Continuation on language: Language is generally standardized through the government and schooling. The huge social disparity between nobles, and the lack of education for commoners I decided on in my worldbuilding, supports the formation of unique dialects, and in the extreme, a distinct language. Instead of regional dialects, you would form social dialects which is where the idea of "broken" English comes from. Mixing in Numbers and immigrants leads to the formation of a pidgin (simplified communication to bridge language gap), which can then evolve into a creole language, which is a unique language. Given the extreme social stratification in Britannia, creole languages help the lower class by being unintelligible to nobles and therefore being a secret and secure means of communication. An even more extreme version of this is cant/argot which is often associated with thieves. Here, the language is often designed to mislead listeners.

-In canon, Milly finds out Kallen is half-Japanese because her school transcripts were finally transferred. My headcanon for this was that Kallen studied abroad immediately after the invasion of Japan, where her blood status wouldn't matter. She then returned to Japan after Area Eleven had been firmly established. I

-There are basically three groups collecting information within the Empire. One, obviously, is the OSI with it's sub-branch of the Geass Order. They do general mass surveillance inside and outside the Empire and probably are much like the NSA. Due to the sheer breadth of the Empire, they heavily rely on automation and targeted surveillance Unfortunately, this leads to a lot of false positives, such as Lelouch's letter because it was written in braille, or to other info slipping below the net. The Emperor, therefore has his own spy network who perform only targeted tasks and handle things such as assassinations through the unspeakables. The last group, is a more informal network based on nobles spying on each other and basically selling that information to the Emperor, or another noble. Britannia's superiority complex assumes that a threat would come within the noble ranks. This pretty much means that commoners and Numbers tend to slip through the surveillance net quite easily.

Author's Note:

Thank you x1tears1X and SpadeAce18 on FFN for your help with this chapter. If anyone else wants to beta, just ask? :)

My longest chapter yet... I hope the more political aspects weren't too boring in this chapter. And for everyone who was asking when Kallen would show up... Congratulations, she has. What do you guys think of her father, Lord Stadtfeld?

What are you most excited for next?

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