Chapter 23: Let it Snow

It is difficult to imagine a time when the Zero Division was not a common household name spoken with awe, reverence, and even fear. They are the Empire's strongest soldiers, stealthiest assassins, and smartest commanders. Every nation knows that to stand against the Zero Division is to taste crushing defeat. It is within this swirl of admiration and fear, that most forget the Zero Division's roots. It is easy to assume that the Emperor collected the best of the best to found this division, yet it is not so. The Zero Division was not made of the best of the best or even the best of the mediocre, but rather the one's Britannia wished to have forgotten.

Before they were the Zero Division, they were the 712th: a collection of undesirables, from the disgraced nobles to the Numbers. Just like the Zero Division, they were sent on impossible missions. Unlike the Zero Division, they died as expected. Perhaps it is through that hostile environment, those who survived became the best of the best. Yet by assuming that the Zero Division rose because of exceptional men with great skills, we draw from our own superstitions regarding what the Zero Division is now. Back then, the 712th was a collection of nobodies and even the best of the best or demons of supernatural powers would have remained nobodies.

There are few things concretely known about the 712th. Unlike other portions of Britannian history, this is not because of a mountain of red tape, but rather because of the nature of the 712th. Personal accounts of soldiers from within the 712th are readily available. They describe a hellish environment of death, disease, and starvation. Frequent are mentions of scarce supplies and docked pay. Official documents reveal inadequate supplies being sent for a division and a constant stream of incoming Honorary Britannians to replace the ones lost. Even within those documents, another troubling trend arises as numerous shipments disappear into thin air or arrive with half their contents missing. The 712th was a basin of corruption and would have remained that way, if it wasn't for an unusual occurrence on October 17th, 2012: the 712th wasn't annihilated. This marks the first of many occurrences where the division survived despite the odds stacked against them.

—The Rise of the Zero Division

Forward Base Division 712, Near Ottawa, Area 2

Snowflakes slowly drifted through the sky in lazy swirls as Lelouch stumbled forward in the fresh powdered snow. The snow crunched beneath his boots. He tightened his grip on the fraying winter uniform and shivered as snow leaked into the gap between his leg and the shoe. The day had barely begun, and already the snow leaking into his boots, was beginning to melt and form an icy puddle. It was too early for snow, but winter had come early, and there was nothing Lelouch could do about it. As he stepped into the makeshift mess tent, Lelouch allowed himself to sigh and stretch his back. Pablo, carrying a steaming hot soup wandered over to him, as Lelouch stood in line for his own serving.

"Have you heard of the new officer arriving today? Some Fortune or something. Rodri says he sounds like a proper ass. Was already shouting up a storm or something."

Lelouch shook his head as he accepted his own scalding soup and gently took a sip. The droplet of warmth tore through his body, and settled uncomfortably in his stomach. Cautiously, he took another sip, before turning back to Pablo and asking, "What's his rank?"

Pablo laughed. "Well if Rodri is right... Second Lieutenant. Can you believe it? Barely anything and he thinks he's the Emperor's gift to the world or something."

Taking a sip to hide his amusement, Lelouch continued to listen.

"Did you hear back from your sister yet?"

"No—"

"—I heard there was a package for you. Any chance it might be from her?"

Lelouch stared forlornly at the remaining smears of his soup. Ripping off a piece of bread, he finished soaking up the last remnants. "Perhaps. Why don't you come along? "

Pablo followed him silently into the biting cold. Edgar waved at him cheerfully as he passed by hauling a heavy load on a makeshift sled. In an hour, it would be Lelouch's shift again and he would join his squad in helping to finish setting up the camp. He had a feeling that the early winter storm would not pass them by easily.

They arrived at the informal post station, a lone tent surrounded by packages and a blizzard of chaos, as officers and soldiers congregated and barked to another. A loaded truck honked as it shot past their right hand side and came to a sudden halt. A middle aged officer stormed to the driver, barking orders and directing the unhauling efforts.

Stepping out of the way of two baby faced soldiers, Pablo commented, "Britannian Military Post. A wonderful chaos. Your left. Left! Not right."

Lelouch sheepishly ducked his head as he stepped to the left and let the soldiers rush by, carrying over their shoulders, a fresh batch of rifles.

"Where is my shipment!" Screamed a new officer, storming towards the truck. Despite his furious tone, the words rolled over his tongue and the painful familiarity caused Lelouch to look at the newcomer in shock. "I do not care for your fatuous excuses. When I tell you to get something done, I expect it to be done."

The accent was painfully familiar and Lelouch lowered his head , shielding his eyes, as the noble stormed by. Whoever they were, they were from an important noble family in New Pendragon. Lelouch watched the bright blond hair leave out of the corner of his eye.

"Pleasant fellow, isn't he?" Pablo muttered as he pulled Lelouch inside to a crate buried beneath various packages and sitting in the dark corner of the tent. "That's your name isn't it? Better claim it fast," he hissed as he looked over his shoulder. "Whatever bribe your friend may have given, got it this far, but let's not push our luck."

"Our luck?" Lelouch drawled and rolled his eyes. "You're just curious aren't you?"

Pablo sniffed. "Well, I did go to all this trouble to make sure no one else would find it while I fetched you. Even had to trade a favor with the lady over there, Now hurry up won't you."

Lelouch gently shoved the crate. It didn't budge. Who had the resources to send him... whatever this was? "And your plan Pablo? Are we just going to carry it out of here?"

"Well," Pablo ducked down, peeking around the tent. "I told—"

Henry waved to Lelouch and smirked as he sat down silently behind Pablo.

"—Henry to watch the package." Finally Pablo's eyes settled on Henry right before him and startled backwards into a mountain of letters.

Henry stared at Pablo for a moment, before turning to Lelouch and holding up three bags. "He asked me to watch the package. We will distribute it among these bags and walk out, looking as if we're going to deliver the mail."

Biting his lip, Lelouch stared into Henry's eyes. "And you're ok with this? You don't even know what's in it."

"We'll be sharing," Henry replied, winking. "That's what Pablo suggested."

Pablo shrugged carelessly as Lelouch narrowed his eyes at him. Shaking his head, he grabbed a crowbar and slowly pried open the crate, desperately hoping there was nothing incriminating inside. On top of a mountain of oranges, chocolate, and other smaller packages, laid two letters. Lelouch grabbed them, his fingers noticing the rather standard quality of paper: finer than what could be found in the military, but nothing compared to the thick, smooth paper used by the noble families. He relaxed, as he broke the seal.

Henry asked, "So who is it from?"

A small smile graced his lips. "My sister... and her friends." His fingers breezed over the raised bumps and he winced. She was definitely not pleased with his omission. He just didn't want to worry her, yet she was.

Pablo walked over, fished out an orange from the crate and eyed it appreciatively. "Will she help send my letter?"

Lelouch nodded. "But both of us will be reading them, you understand?"

Out of the pocket of his coat, Pablo pulled out a wrinkled envelope, with frayed edges. His hands shook slightly as he pushed it into Lelouch's hands. "It doesn't matter. Just make sure they get it."

His mouth dried as his fingers curled around the letter and Lelouch carefully tucked it into his pocket, before turning back to the crate of goodies from the student council. As he stared at the first aid kit, buried at the bottom, Lelouchhe finally dared to ask, "Are you telling your family the truth? About this?"

Out of the corner of his eyes, Lelouch could see Pablo leaning back and closing his eyes. "I went against their wishes by enlisting, but it was, no, has to be the right thing to do. Even if they know the risks, at least they know I'm healthy for now. If I died without... saying goodbye, just another number lost on a list to the chaos of war... I would never forgive myself... and they will never find closure."

Lelouch should write back, but the thought of hurting his sister with his situation's rather bleak assessment made him feel physically ill. All he wanted to do was to protect her, but in doing so, he put her heart in danger.

"Lelouch," Pablo muttered, his hand suddenly dropping on his shoulder, "Be honest, but focus on the good. Share the good memories and don't let your regrets weigh you down."

Already, Lelouch had so many regrets, but there was nothing he could do about them. Yet he knew he would regret it even more if Nunnally discovered him lying to her. At least he could eliminate one regret... and tell the truth. If only it didn't hurt so much.

HEA Carlton, Celebes Sea, By the Philippines

Cornelia took a moment to look down at the rolling sea and the waves crashing against the hull of the ship. Fine sea mist sprayed into the air and clung to her hair. The smell of the ocean followed her inside the depth of the ship as she approached the bridge. Soldiers saluted as she walked by, pressing themselves against the dimly lit metal walls. Their respect was by the book... yet, she could feel their heavy eyes boring into her back.

She was under no delusions. They were her enemies.

"Princess... Brigadier Cornelia," a familiar voice called out at the end of the hallway, holding a pristine salute.

Her shoulders rolled back and her steps firmed as she stared at the young man. "Lord Guilford, you have arrived."

"Yes Your Highness. Thirty minutes ago. I was informed you would be attending this afternoon's war council. It is my honor to serve you my lady. Thank you!" He finished with a tight bow, his left arm lagging behind.

"Do your injuries still ail you?" Cornelia inquired.

His face flushed, but he didn't flinch. "Your assistance ensured I received the best medical care possible, Your Highness. I am forever in your debt."

Cornelia's mouth tightened as an elder lord pushed past her and muttered a hasty insincere apology before disappearing around the corner. Her chest feeling tight, she dipped her head marginally. "Lord Guilford, you saved my life. There is no debt between us."

"Your Highness," he began to protest.

She swiftly spoke over him. "Will you continue to serve me faithfully in mind and body?"

Lord Guildford knelt on the ground, despite the tight quarters. "It would be my honor, my lady."

With Jeremiah taking over his father's duties, she had been without an ally. Unlike Lady Marianne, Cornelia had no list of great victories to her name or public favor from her father. Now... Now, she had Lord Guildford and he had already saved her life at great risk to his own. To move forward, she needed allies and to take risks. If he was trustworthy, she would reap great rewards.

If not?

Cornelia turned around, not willing to consider the consequences. There was no need to tempt fate. She would succeed because she was royalty. Her blood was bred for superiority and victory. She had learned from the best. Victory was assured. She only needed the chance.

"Come Lord Guilford, the war council and the Emperor awaits. If you need anything to adequately perform your duties, just ask." And that was as close as she would come to offering her patronage. She was royalty, and would never admit to needing to offer quid pro quo. Especially, to someone lesser than her.

The bridge had been cleared of all non-essential personnel, leaving only a watchman staring out the great windows into the open sea. The Captain, Lord Lindsey, sat in an armchair, smoke curling from his cigarette as he waited for the large screen to activate. The other nobles, chests laden with medals, stood at attention, their heads bowed respectfully, waiting for the missive.

Cornelia cleared her throat and few lords cast her a quick glance, before focusing on the screen again. Rolling her eyes at their disrespect and to cover her own irritation at being annoyed, she walked forward and coldly ordered, "Move."

Begrudgingly, a few lords took a step to the side, allowing her to stand before the screen.

The screen flickered on and Cornelia prepared to bow.

"Such a courteous welcome," drawled Schneizel, "there is no need."

Cornelia's head snapped up and she stared at her brother lounging on a decadent sofa.

"Unfortunately, my father has some other tasks to attend to," Schneizel continued. "He trusts me to make sure there are no complications with your operation. Empress Marianne has secured the Eastern Coast, and with supplies and reinforcements from Area Eleven, her position is under no threat. The government is expected to fall shortly."

No. Cornelia pressed her hands against her side. The fight had barely begun and she hadn't had the opportunity to prove herself. It couldn't be over yet.

"But as Area Eleven taught us, the government and the military aren't always aligned. We must insure the people surrender completely, and eliminate all hope of resistance. Currently, they cling onto the belief that the Chinese or E.U. will be their savior. Your fleet is critical in ensuring that belief remains a fantasy."

"Understood Your Highness," the officer to her left shouted. "They don't stand a chance."

Schneizel's cold eyes settled on the man. "Make sure they don't Lieutenant." His eyes swept over the room and narrowed at the Captain, blowing rings in the smoke. "Is this not engaging for you Captain?"

Lord Lindsey exhaled slowly and drawled, "Well boy—"

"—Prime Minister... Captain."

"Well, Prime Minister boy," the Captain stood up and stretched his back, "I was expecting the Emperor, not some wet behind the ears, little Prince, playing at military affairs."

Schneizel's masks didn't slip. "I speak on the Emperor's behalf."

The Captain chuckled. "And our orders haven't changed... Your Highness. We'll continue to fire on any hostile ship and ensure that they do not pass." He took a slow drag on the cigarette. "You are not the Emperor and he must surely not trust you, if he has you acting as his message boy to already tell us what we know."

Cornelia clenched her jaw at the blatant disrespect. Being a lord did not mean he could spit on royalty. Her family had accomplished more than this man or any of his ancestors had ever done. Seeing the slight twinge in the corner of her brother's mouth, she listened eagerly. His face twisted into a smile, pleasant and warm, yet his eyes were frigid.

Calm as a summer breeze, Schneizel said, "I do have an additional order for a knightmare platoon if you would let me finish Captain."

Unconcerned, the Captain sank back into his seat. "Go on. I'm not delaying you."

Schneizel's brow twitched marginally, before relaxing again. "We have intercepted orders for a heavily defended caravan moving a delicate cargo from Davao to Leyte. They risk becoming a nuisance for Empress Marianne's forces, so must be eliminated as soon as possible. They leave tomorrow night. Will you be able to spare the knightmares... Captain?"

The captain crossed his arms. "It would be a voluntary assignment Prime Minister boy. Our orders are to engage enemy ships and use our knightmares to assist such efforts. If you wish us to eliminate a minor nuisance, you'll need to ask who would abandon their post to hunt pests."

Guilford twitched and dipped his chin slightly. Her heart hammered within her chest. There was no chance to gain honor surrounded by people who hated her. She had no useful skill to apply to combat on the sea, but she did know how to pilot a knightmare. And Lord Guilford would support her.

Cornelia stepped forward. "Brother, if the Captain is so hesitant to send out his men, allow me to lead the charge. Unlike all these other decorated officers, I do not have an urgent post requiring my attention."

Schneizel stared at her in silence for a moment, allowing her to read nothing from his face. "You will not accomplish your task alone Cornelia."

"I have men, brother. It is of no concern. The vermin is no match for the might of the royal family."

Chuckling, he leaned back. "Of course not. Very well Cornelia. Good luck."

The screen turned black and immediately the other officers walked away. Taking a second to compose herself after her brother's abrupt departure, she exited the bridge, Lord Guilford falling into step behind her.

"Regretting following me already Lord Guilford?"

"Not at all Your Highness. With great risks come great rewards. Will you give me the liberty to find us some trustworthy knights?"

"Remind me to send my brother a thank you note once we succeed, Guilford." She turned around and looked him into the eyes. "Make sure they are loyal."

Ottawa, Area 2

Brigit watched the snowflakes race through the dimly lit maze of buildings, with the cold winter wind hurrying them along. It was supposed to be a full moon, but glancing at the sky, the clouds blotted out all natural light. The wind tugged at her cloak and she pressed her hands to the mustache firmly attached to her face. It would not fly away. She had insured it.

Art, his steps nearly drowned out by the roaring wind, stopped besides her, shivering. "Ready for this B—Count?"

She smiled tightly and took a step back from the edge of the icy roof. "It's a nice view isn't it, Art?"

"Yes?"

Chuckling, she turned away from the city and pointed to the small flickering lights in the blanket of darkness. "From here, you wouldn't even know there's an army huddling in the cold and trying to shelter out a storm."

"And that's why folks think you're some kind of demon. It's freezing. Let's head back inside."

Still, she did not move. "A demon? I think we're rather blessed by God. A foot of snow, the darkest night, and winds that cover the sound of a tank. It's the perfect night for an ambush. Aren't we blessed?"

She could almost hear him roll his eyes, as he dryly replied, "If the weather was a sign from above, it would be much more helpful for a lightning bolt to strike the Emperor. We've been waiting for a chance, and we got it a bit earlier than expected. That's nature, not divinity."

Turning around, the joking smile slipped away and she stared down at him. "What do you think of this?"

Art shrugged. "They're Numbers aren't they? And they wouldn't have brought the Twos. Not that there are many of them in the first place. None of our folks care for them beyond lip service, and by attacking the expendables, our troops will get experience without appearing much more threatening."

"Bloody Marianne sure did a number on us," Brigit conceded, "I'd rather not have my newly found army of Crows decimated just as the fight begins again. I've heard the locals have been using the Britsthem as target practice."

"No one likes the Brit brutesarmy. But I've found no evidence of it being organized at a greater level. Just angry mobs. When we drive the army North, they'll probably join our movement. And it should be enough for the French to send further support."

"Good," Brigit nodded. "Let's begin then."

A Guard Post, Near Ottawa, Area 2

Guard duty wasn't the most demanding job, but it involved doing a lot of nothing in the freezing cold. Lelouch curled his fingers together within the gloves, trying to conserve some heat. The direction of the wind changed and blasted them with small little pricks of ice.

Lelouch turned around, in an attempt to shield his face. "I hate guard duty."

"Orange?" Edgar offered.

Lowering the scarf to his chin, Lelouch accepted the chilled slice. The sweet flavor burst over his tongue and he closed his eyes.

Frederick whined besides them, "Where is my slice Edgar? I thought I was best your mate." His voice dropped to a horrified whisper. "Are you replacing me with Lelouch?"

Edgar popped an orange slice into his mouth and stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Well his sister got us oranges. And I love oranges."

Alex chortled from the back of the shelter. "I think Frederick ya being replaced."

"Noooo!" Frederick cried, falling to the ground, before bursting out in laughter.

Edgar punched Frederick in the shoulder and shook his head. "I regret to inform you, I'm marrying an orange. And as a married man, I unfortunately will no longer have time for you."

A moment of silence and everyone broke down, laughing. Lelouch took a deep breath as he stared back outside, but the grin remained. The freezing metal barrel of the gun could be felt through his thick coat, yet despite the cold, a few oranges and some laughter, allowed them to overcome nature.

"Pay attention, you idiots!" Roy shouted as he stormed back inside their little shelter. "We're on guard duty."

Henry, slinked in behind him, eagerly sat in the far corner as he rubbed his hands.

"It's just a bit of fun," Frederick protested.

"Guard duty means guarding! Or do you want to be attacked again?" Roy shot back.

"Calm down," Edgar pleaded as he came to his friend's defense. "Nothing is out there. Nobody would be, in this weather."

As the duo withered under Roy's glare and ensuing speech, Alex sat down besides Lelouch. "Your sister has some good friends."

"She sure does," Lelouch admitted. The care package from the student council had been truly unexpected.

"You've got that look."

"What look?" Lelouch asked, turning back to Alex.

Alex squinted his eyes and nodded. "The one where you're feeling guilty."

"I'm not—" Lelouch paused, "It's not guilt. I told Nunnally I'm thankful, but... I told her the truth. Well, most of it. And now she's going to be worried."

Snorting, "Considering the number of bandaids, she was already worried. So you're feeling guilty about being honest. You're strange."

"Well no," Lelouch sighed, "I want to make it up to her. I'm already missing her birthday, and if she's going to be worried about me, the least I can do is get her something..."

Alex rubbed his hands together and glanced quickly back at Roy, still berating the other two, "Tomorrow, I can probably sneak to town. Hell, I'm sure I could disguise you too. What do you think? A little adventure? Risk a court martial?"

"Not too eager for that," Lelouch admitted... but if it was for his sister? Biting his lip, he asked, "Do you think they'd let us go, if I asked?"

Alex's deadpan stare answered him quite clearly.

"Well I still have a few days if I want it to arrive on time. Let's not get too extreme yet. It is... just a birthday present."

"How painful was it to say that?"

Lelouch chuckled. "Very."

Pulling out his flask, Alex swished the water. "Well somehow folks are getting alcohol, but for that, they'd actually have to talk to us."

The black market was always an option, but despite Lelouch's best efforts, he had yet managed to weasel the information out of Pablo. He was close. Once Nunnally sent a letter back from Pablo's family, Lelouch might finally be considered trustworthy. All he could do on that front, was wait. "You may be a street rat Alex, but you're still clearly Britannian. They don't trust us."

Alex groaned. "I know. Most of them think Roy is a spy because of his family. They're basically nobles with how much money they're rolling in."

"Money doesn't make a noble, besides, Roy is nowhere near subtle enough for a spy."

"And he loves his rules too much. He'd be dead within a week if he were on the streets. But I trust him."

The yelling had ceased behind him and Lelouch cast a glance back to see Roy handing out ration bars. "His heart is in the right place... How are things with Sergeant Malfoire going?"

"Great!" Alex's face seemed to glow as he recounted the various lessons. "He simply knows so much. And he never gets mad when I don't get it. It's almost too good to be true. Ya know you're not getting promoted, if ya don't specialize. And he has offered to teach you."

Forcing the nausea down at Alex's admiration of York, Lelouch shook his head. "I'll figure it out. Frederick isn't sure yet either what he wants to do."

Alex stared at him with eyes. "Just join me for one lesson. Sergeant Malfoire won't mind and you're better than me. Just one lesson. Please?"

Lelouch was saved from answering, as something flashed within the blanket of darkness and snow. Pulling out his radio, he called, "This is KY-7-B, do you copy, KY-3-C? Over."

"We copy loud and clear. Over."

"Suspicious movement in your sector. Bearing two-seven degrees East, of your position. Over."

"Unit moving to investigate. Will report in five. Over."

"We copy. Awaiting further information. Over." Lelouch put the radio aside and brushed the snow off the gun.

Alex stood up slowly, and signaled the others to prepare. Standing next to Lelouch, he whispered, "It's probably a bear."

"A glowing bear?" Lelouch hissed. He shifted the gun and waited for a reply on the radio. "Probably just some locals heading home. It's nothing."

The snow crunched softly, and Lelouch flinched, turning to see Roy walking slowly, his gun ready. Even if it was just the locals, they might not look kindly upon them. It was best to be prepared. Lelouch's fingers curled around the barrel of the rifle, as he checked the trigger, and wiped snow away from vital parts. Like his boots, the rifle was old and worn. It had once belonged to another soldier, fallen in battle.

Henry shifted closer to him, pulling out a knife, as they heard only silence over the radio. The other squadron should have reported back. Roy nodded at Lelouch slowly, and he picked up the radio again, urgently tapping the side.

The radio hissed, and finally, a new voice broke through. "Do you copy? Shit." Muffled gun fire crackled behind him. "This is KY-3-A. It's an Edinburgh!"

Ignoring protocol, Lelouch urgently asked, "Identify hostiles!"

"Crows." The sound of gunfire rattled through the background and Lelouch's hand curled around the receiver, knowing he could do nothing. Over the howling of the wind, a piercing gunshot whistled through the air. "Save the Queen. Over... Make'em pay."

Harsh crackles burst forth from the speaker and KY-3-A roared. Guns fired. Voices yelled, growing quieter.

"Lelouch," Roy whispered.

Lelouch nodded and changed the channel, and swallowed. "KY-7-B reporting of potential Crows on the Eastern front. Unknown numbers. Unit KY-3 has been lost. Awaiting further instructions. Over."

The wind stilled for a moment and one last gunshot rang through the air, followed by silence.

The order came with condemning finality: "Hold your position."

The squadron stared at another in silence, and Roy grimaced. "Shit. Shit. We don't have numbers. We can't see anything. And we're supposed to sit tight."

Lelouch watched Roy pace back and forth, massaging his temples. They had their order. Disobeying would be treason.

Roy froze, pointing at the lone lamp, in their shelter. "They'll know our location. Officially... Officially, we maintained our position. We'll turn it off and let them pass by."

"And if it's an army?" Alex asked softly. Seeing the looks from the others, he shrugged. "Plan for the worst. It's an army, marching onto our position. Besides, the Crows are supposed to be gone. If a crime lord vanishes from the street, he has to come back with a bang, to fend off the vultures. Prove his strength. The Count? If it's him, he'll be making examples."

Roy scowled, and picked up the lamp, moving it to the front of their little shelter. "Lelouch, you're my second. I need you to lead the advance team."

Automatically, Alex stepped closer to Lelouch and Henry raised his hand, slowly lumbering over. "Might as well be the shortest folks."

His hand trembling, Lelouch nodded at the two, before holding up the only radio they had. "Communications might be compromised. And we just have rifles."

"Could really do with a knightmare, one man army, about now, " Roy joked. "But we'll make do. We know they'll come here, which gives us an advantage. Do whatever you need Lelouch. It's not like anyone important cares."

"Acknowledged. I'll take the radio if you don't need it." Lelouch replied, then he turned around to look into the darkness. Pulling out his flashlight, and holding it under his jacket to only allow it to illuminate their surroundings, he prepared to head out. Step One: Scout the enemy's position. Alex and Henry followed silently behind.

His mother was going to kill him and then ground him for eternity.

By Gatineau River, Near Ottawa, Area 2

Brigit moved her knightmare through the storm with ease. The military base she had marked on the map, waited tantalizing before her. The wind buffeted the side of the knightmare and her lips curled in anticipation. Nothing was more inspiring than a knightmare on one's side. Her troops were ready, although perhaps only half trained. The knightmare would be enough to turn the tide.

Wind pushed the knightmare to the side and she adjusted carefully. An early winter storm was incredibly fortuitous. The scant knightmares in the division, held by a few wealthy officers who had fallen out of favor, would be useless on the suddenly unfamiliar terrain and battling powerful winds. And if she was lucky, they would become a liability.

"Art," she called over the radio, "have you resolved the issue? Over."

"Unexpected rupture of a sakuradite cell sir. The investigating patrol has been taken out, but it is fair to assume the enemy suspects we might be out here. Over."

"Did the patrol have a chance to report back? Over." A surprise attack was useless, if it wasn't a surprise.

"Our auxiliary guard intercepted them sir. They don't know our numbers, but they were in radio contact. Over."

She had planned every aspect of the upcoming battlefield, yet the unexpected was threatening to throw everything into disarray. She could not afford to lose. Her strength had to be proven. "Bring me the radio Art."

"Acknowledged."

Her army having paused, Brigit waited besides her knightmare, ears strained to hear any possible trouble. Given the weather, it was possible for the base to mobilize and head out into the night, but miss her army. There was no visibility. Looking at the worn radio in her hands, she tapped her finger against its side, trailing along the various grooves and scratches. She had to know what the enemy knew.

Smirking, she flicked it on. "Hello?"

"Who are you?" The voice that greeted her sounded young, but the accent was posh and Eastern. A noble. An officer.

She smirked. "Just a concerned citizen. Your man seems to have succumbed from frostbite."

"You're handling military property sir. I will send a patrol to collect our property and reprimand the errant soldier."

Brigit tilted her head to the side as she glanced at Art. Had the soldier failed to get out a warning? It seemed almost too good to be true, but fortune was with her. Art shook his head, his brow furrowed in suspicion.

"Your position sir?"

"A little out of town my lord. Perhaps you wish to wait until the morning, I wouldn't want any other good men of yours to succumb to frostbite."

Mercilessly, the officer replied, "Only the weak would have succumbed. I thank you for your loyalty sir. Are you by the river sir?"

Yes. "No. East. An hour's walk out, judging by the weather."

"Understood. I will be there shortly."

The radio cut out and Brigit pursed her lips as she stared back down at the radio. "A noble coming to us? A hostage could solve our monetary issues. Send a group to ambush them when they arrive."

"And if he's playing us?" Art asked.

"Keep everyone on high alert, and we'll move into the forest. It will slow us down, but the storm is hardly letting up anytime soon."

"Understood sir." Art saluted mockingly, and marched away, barking out orders, to the dimly lit troops, trudging through the weather.

Brigit shrugged and tucked the radio into her coat, keeping it on, in case the noble called again. She was half tempted to change the channel, but a loyal citizen wouldn't, and she had to respond if the noble called. Smirking, she sat down and began to move the knightmare into the dense forest. Despite the small hiccup, things were going to plan.

Close by...

"Do you think he bought it?"

Lelouch turned off the radio and shrugged. "It doesn't matter Alex. If there's an army, they would be moving by the river. Visibility is shot because of the storm, but in the forest? Half the army might get lost and they wouldn't be able to bring heavier firepower, and if they're attacking the base, they'll need firepower."

Alex, illuminated by the glow of the flashlight beneath his coat, nodded. "Still a scary accent. Almost could imagine ya as a real and proper noble there for a moment. So we're heading to the river."

Lelouch's smile felt too tight on his face. "Yes. But we'll stick to the trees."

"Great," Henry replied sarcastically, "We're going to wander through the woods, in the dark. But we left Frederick with Roy, and we suck at navigating."

"This the hand we were dealt. Stop complaining," Lelouch hissed. "Now be quiet. I have to concentrate."

Lelouch's step length was around fifteen inches. The river, according to the map, was about a mile out. Approximately 4,873 steps to the river. All he had to do was head in the correct direction. Holding the compass in his left hand, Lelouch took a deep breath and focused on the needle. Once before, they had walked through a snowstorm. It was just like training.

Ten minutes later, Lelouch's flashlight flickered.

Three minute later, it died, casting Lelouch into darkness.

Alex's glowing form moved closer and they continued, Lelouch carefully counting the steps, his eyes focused on the dimly lit compass, and not letting the needle waver. They had to succeed.

Twenty minutes later, at long last, Lelouch could see the faint lights and hear the rumble of an army moving through the snow, too loud, for even the wind to drown it out. They had made it.

Extinguishing their flashlights, the trio clambered up a tree to watch the slow moving army.

The radio crackled and Lelouch grinned, as he turned on. "You are not to touch the radio sir."

The man on the other side, one who Lelouch strongly suspected to be in charge, or perhaps even the Count himself, said, "We were expecting you to arrive. Where are you sir?"

"Military business isn't a concern for a peasant. We are arriving, but I do not see you sir. Do you perhaps have a light?" The radio ceased it's crackling and Lelouch wondered if the man had simply tired of playing, now that the lie was exposed.

The radio crackled back to life. "You're toying with me, officer. Isn't that rather rude? What happened to facing your opponent across the battlefield?"

The Count. If only he had the actual power to make something of the situation, instead of bluffing and desperately hoping that the base was preparing for the army. Pushing himself further into the tree, Lelouch continued his feint. "The infamous Count, I presume? Who is the one trying to sneak onto my base? You're the one resorting to subterfuge."

"So you're preparing a warm welcome for me. I'm honored. Then shall we dispense the game, my lord?"

Nervously, Lelouch glanced at the army. Roy trusted him to pull another miracle. There had to be something he could do. Henry nodded at him, and slid down the tree, disappearing into the forest.

"What's he doing?" Alex hissed.

Lelouch shrugged. "Don't know. We'll just have to trust him. Alex? Is your gun ready? I want you to find a tree a bit more to their rear. Fire when ready."

"Yes sir." Alex replied, serious.

The radio crackled again. "I'm getting impatient. Don't leave your opponent hanging."

"I'm a busy man Count. You did bring an army of peasants to my doorstep. A great deal of clean up work for me. Rather rude of you, isn't it?"

"You're bluffing," the Count replied dryly and the radio became silent. Below him the enemy began to move, marching forward, to a small distant light flickering. The guard camp where Roy, Frederick, and Edgar waited, relying on Lelouch.

En Route to Leyte, Philippines

A small force behind her, Cornelia leaned back in the cockpit of her knightmare. Schneizel's intelligence expected the enemy to pass this point, and her platoon was ready for an ambush. Outside of some pigs, a crocodile, and a herd of weird goat-like creatures, nothing moved. Sweat dripped down her face and she stared out at the sun, slowly beginning to descend.

Where were they? She loathed waiting.

Opening a channel to Lord Guilford, she asked, "Any movement?"

"No sir. Everything is normal," he replied, wearily. "Your highness?"

Taking a sip of water, "Yes?"

"Could our info be a bust?"

The others probably thought that, but Cornelia knew her brother... and trusted him. There were few absolute truths she believed in: the absolute power of her father, her sister's kind heart, and Schneizel never being wrong. Not once had his predictions failed and she doubted he had lost that endless strive for perfection.

"No," she replied, her eyes on the bend of the road, "they'll be there."

"Of course," he replied dutifully, although she could hear the doubt in his voice.

It wasn't like her brother to be wrong, but perhaps he had intended this as a test for the captain, but she had sprung his trap instead. Anyone else would have quit, but her faith in her brother kept her here. And the knowledge that if she failed, she would once again be failing Lady Marianne.

"Movement at my eight," reported the scout.

"Finally," Cornelia cried, and sat upright, "Everyone, prepare yourself."

A convoy of tanks, surrounding a large truck, rounded the bend. Soldiers stood on top of the truck, attentive and ready to fire. They would be no match for Britannia's might, and her mouth curled upwards in anticipation. But Sapporo had taught her the folly of moving ahead. Even with superior power and force, the enemy might be lucky. An absolute victory meant crushing them completely.

The convoy neared.

"Now!" she barked.

They flew out of the trees, piercing the defense easily and the tanks rolled back from recoil, the shells firing wide. Her platoon was far from cohesive, but as they surrounded the caravan, and the slash-harkens tore through the tanks, she could see something greater forming. Lord Guilford had found obedient men with potential.

The soldiers scrambled along the ground, out of the way. Throwing grenades and cowering on the ground like cowards. Seeing a few run to the truck, her eyes narrowed. Desperate creatures created desperate plans and desperate plans were... unpredictable. Moving forward, she swept into their path. The knightmare's gun swung to the right, tearing through the truck's canopy.

A mountain of bright pink glistened.

Sakuradite.

A bomb.

Enough to carve a canyon.

She should retreat, the resulting explosion would be catastrophic, even for a knightmare. But she had promised to win. Winning did not mean letting the enemy have one last grand stand to make a statement. Schneizel wanted their hopes and dreams shattered. The sakuradite was that dream.

She moved forward, flattening soldiers who stood in her way. Her knightmare's hands curled around the volatile sakuradite and a cacophony of voice screamed at her through the radio. Cornelia smiled, and lifted it higher, delicately handling the controls. A sudden jolt would blow them sky high. Her ejection seat would save her.

Guilford's knightmare swung to her side, swatting an enemy and his rocket launcher to the side. "Your Highness, we should split the load."

He understood what had to be done. Instead of protesting her actions, he was helping her accomplish her goal. She had chosen well. Cornelia lowered the knightmare's hand, allowing Guilford the opportunity to grab a portion of sakuradite.

Turning on her microphone, Cornelia walked to the river, and stared at the small town downstream. The enemy being such simple folks led them to rely on the stream. Without it? Their town would be crippled. And only a little sakuradite was needed to change the course of the river.

"You have lost. Cease your pointless resistance, or," the knightmare's hand moved over the river. The threat was clear.

The soldiers shouted, and even from above in her knightmare, she could feel their shock. Letting the knightmare's hand begin to tip sideways, she watched in glee as they threw their weapons on the ground and raised their hands. People thought that their own lives were expendable, but rarely would someone risk both themselves and everyone they knew for a cause.

These soldiers were just ill trained cared only to protect their home and if they surrendered, Britannia would have no quarrel with them.

"Congratulations, Princess Cornelia," Guilford praised, "Now, for your safety, I must insist you put down the explosives."

He dared to order her. A Princess. She burst out laughing. "I won Guilford, I won."

"Yes you did."

Calming herself, but unable to erase the ridiculous grin on her face, Cornelia said, "You brought together a platoon that made it possible."

"It was my duty," he replied modestly.

Why did he refuse to take advantage of the situation? Any other noble would be throwing themselves at her feet or trying to steal the victory from her. Instead, he risked his life without question. Throwing caution to the wind, she asked, "Will you join my royal guard, Sir Guilford?"

"Of course Your Highness."

Approaching 712th's Forward Base, Near Ottawa, Area 2

Brigit clenched her teeth. The officer had tried to play her. She almost wanted to reopen the channel and ask for his name. There had been the expected noble conceitedness, but he had achieved what he had set out to do: buy time. And she had fallen right into his trap. Now the enemy would be prepared. Spinning the knightmare around, she stared at the distant pinprick of light indicating the camp. There was no more time to waste.

"We're beginning our assault now!" she ordered over her troop's radio. The mysterious officer had been cunning, too cunning. He was a threat. "Focus fire on the officer tent. Destroy supplies and bait them towards the river."

The great army surged forward, an unoiled machine, creaking and sputtering, but incredibly deadly. They pushed through the forest, lights on, no longer bothering with stealth. To her surprise, no forces came out to meet her, as they neared the lone light. Behind it, lights flickered to life. A small guard post.

"Art, is everyone in position?"

"Yes sir."

"Then—"

"No sir. Gunfire on our rear."

Had they been flanked? Spinning around, she was met with the bright explosion, pink, of what had been her refueling cells.

Her radio crackled back to life. "Missed me? It was quite uncouth of me to leave you hanging. Were the fireworks an adequate apology?"

"Quiet," she bit out through clenched teeth. "May I know the name of my opponent?"

"Only if you tell me yours... Count, but I doubt you will. Until next time."

The radio fell silent, and she could hear gunshots from all sides, as her new troops fired frantically into the darkness, desperate to defeat the unseen foe. Unwilling to risk even further derailment, she turned on the troop wide channel. "All units, move forward!"

Not waiting for acknowledgment, she powered her knightmare fully, turning on the various hazard lights and the high beam to illuminate her way. Closing her eyes, she orientated herself and the river nearby. Even if the entire army was there waiting for her, Brigit would continue to hold the upper hand. It was a shame that her skills would be revealed so early on, but a loss would be more devastating.

Ignoring the abandoned guard post, with its small flickering light, Brigit stormed over the crest of the hill. The wind howled at her back, pushing the knightmare forward, and letting her move forward with speed she had never imagined. Lit by gas lamps, an array of tents greeted her. Small ants scurried in out and out of the patches of light, but she paid them no mind.

Officer tents were always in the center, far from any possible action. And those were her objectives. She refused to let that officer make a fool of her again. She would end him. The radio was crackling again, this time with general orders, as the Britannian army ceased radio silence.

On her factsphere, she saw the small lights of her forces's IFF signals, attached to the tanks. Victory was only assured with a strong lance, tearing through the enemy's center line of defense. Swinging her knightmare to the side, she slipped by the piercing blow of an enemy knightmare. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw another approach and rolled forward with the wind at her back.

The enemy knightmares fumbled and stumbled, battling against the wind. She danced, swaying with wind, and adjusting to its mercurial moods.

Flicking a switch, as she dodged once more, "Art. I will take care of the knightmares. Move forward and break through the command tent. I want them dead."

"Yes sir. Do you require any backup?"

"No." A wicked smile curled on her lips as she weaved through the knightmares, they're slash-harkens sailing through the air and stalling. "These amateurs will be no trouble. Have Unit Three, peel off, and circle around back to flank the enemy taking potshots."

"Acknowledged. Good luck."

Not bothering to reply, Brigit raced to the river, dancing and mocking her pursuers. The noble idiots behind her charged recklessly after, slowly adapting to the wind. It would be too little, too late.

Invisible to the eye, but under the thick blanket of snow, was the river. She picked up speed and she could just imagine their delight, thinking she was fleeing. They hurried after.

A modified knightmare, swung by her swiftly, and Brigit curled the metal hands. As it cut before her, she threw an uppercut into the knightmare's shoulder. A second would have saved the pilot, but they moved too late. The right arm hung uselessly at its side. Brigit knew the repair costs would be astronomical, but she moved forward regardless. Always onwards because hesitation meant death. The hill was about to begin sloping downwards, leaving her precious few seconds, to trick the other knightmares into a full charge.

Leaping into the air, Brigit fired her slash-harken, at almost point blank, into the enemy knightmare. It sunk into the chassis, letting loose a dying shriek and lodged tightly within. The enemy knightmare toppled backwards, hung in the air for a few precious moments, and crashed onto the fresh powdered snow.

Suddenly subjected to a thousand pounds, the snow packed together tightly, and as Brigit landed on the downed knightmare's torso. Gravity did the rest of the work. It began to slide.

The enemy knightmares followed her and their downed companion off the ledge, hurtling towards the masked river. Brigit snarled as she tried to pull the knightmare arm free, but the slash-harken refused to move. In the nightmarish landscape of black darkness, illuminated by bright swashes of snow, she had lost track of the river.

She had to eject now.

The knightmare had been stolen from the former Lady Melbourne. It would be a dangerous link to her identity. One she could not risk. A loud crack cut through the sounds of battle and she struggled to free herself once more. Cutting the slash-harken loose, she jumped through the air, gliding upwards, and slamming down onto the ground, thankfully not the ice.

Her opponents weren't as lucky.

The ice creaked, groaned... and shattered.

The water roared as it broke free from its icy prison, thrust upwards by the sinking knightmares. Illuminated by the faint light, the tidal wave slammed onto the shore and the remaining knightmares.

Ice cold water seeped into the cockpit and the knightmare groaned at the sudden pressure. She could feel the knightmare tilting, as the current pushed against her away from the river. Shivering, she grabbed the controls, pushing the knightmare upright against the tide. Water still seeped through the cracks, drowning her shoes. Ice began to coat the cockpit and Brigit had enough.

It was time to leave.

Flicking the floodlights on, Brigit took stock of her surroundings and the distant trees. The enemy knightmares lay on the ground, swept aside by the tidal wave. Taking a step forward, she cursed softly as the knightmare slipped and was brought to the ground with a resounding crash.

The wave was gone, leaving only a landscape coated with ice.

Besides her, the knightmare turned around and ejected. Then another. And another.

The cold began to creep upon her and Brigit sighed as she moved the controls and the iced joints protested loudly. Her lesson was learnt. Ice and knightmares did not mix. It was time to eject.

Turning on the radio, she called to Art, "Requesting a retrieval team, at Sector Alpha Gamma Five Six. Over."

"We copy," Art replied. "I will call the retreat."

"A defeat?" she growled.

"No. We managed to crush most of the command structure and shred the base's defenses. Had we arrived a few minutes earlier, their hasty defenses could have been annihilated. It's a victory the Empire never dreamed possible. Over."

"Copy. Ejecting now."

Brigit closed her eyes as she felt her cockpit take to the air. It was a shame to lose the knightmare. Pulling out the detonator, she stared at it angrily. It had to be done. She pressed the button.

A fiery explosion engulfed her knightmare, erasing all evidence of her presence. The flames surged upwards, licking her cockpit. The concussive blast slammed her head back into the seat. The explosion had been far larger than expected.

An hour later, the retrieval team finally found her, covered by half a foot of snow. Their relief was obvious at finding the enigmatic Count alive and well. The weather may have been frigid enough to drive men to an early grave as the temperatures began to plummet even further, but her anger warmed her. That pompous officer had played her, snatched an absolute victory from her hand and anything less was a defeat.

He had defeated her. It was not to be.

And what rankled her the most? His defenses had been hasty. Weak. He hadn't taken her as a serious threat. She would crush him.

"Art!" she ordered, as she emerged from her cockpit and saw her young companion's relieved face, "Find the commander on the radio."

Not even blinking, he dutifully replied, "Of course sir. Do you wish me to eliminate him?"

"No. Find out everything you can first, and then capture him." He had humiliated her and she would teach him a lesson. He would beg for death, before she granted him that mercy.

Worldbuilding Thoughts:

-Sakuradite is highly explosive in its unrefined state although the how isn't very well explained. It's quite possible that impurities or so can survive past refinement and cause sakuradite to blow when not expected. With enough force, even refined sakuradite can be explosive as a certain earlier chapter hints at. Additionally, under certain conditions, refined sakuradite becomes immensely more volatile. Unfortunately, nobody in universe has really made that link although some are beginning to suspect a conneciton.

-Charles has a tremendous control over the Empire and efficient ways to deal with those he suspects are disloyal. This garners him a certain level of respect, which doesn't necessarily translate to the rest of the royal family. Is it perhaps stupid? Yes. But in any regime, there will be dissenters, greedy folks hoarding power, and people who think they're too important for an unfortunate accident to befall them.

-Brigit argues against Britania's class system, yet she still supports the oppression of the Numbers. They have been dehumanized for a long time and additionally, it is within the interest of those in powers, to make sure the two groups are at odds. As long as the Numbers and commoners consider each other as outsiders, they won't become allies and overthrow the government. Additionally: if they didn't hate each other, then the majority of the 712th would defect overnight.

Author's Note:

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

Hello there. I'm back! Covid related stress derailed my life, but life, while perhaps not on the track I hoped for, is again normal. It feels weird saying that, but this is the new normal. And with this plethora of new found time on my hands, we're back on a weekly update schedule. Ch. 24 is ready for edits, and Ch. 25 is about 1/3 done.

Also, apologies for the delayed responses to comments. I love all of them.

See you next week. (Or via: Discord)