Ch. 24: Recall Your Sins
I grieve for every Number's soul lost in the fight for freedom. We yearn to be free of these chains bequeathed upon us by our conquerors. Our rash youth fight for this cause in the middle of the street. They sacrifice their lives as heroes for a cause. And yet, for having fought this fight over hundreds of years, the Number system still stands firm and strong. Our conquerors shake us off like the gnats we are. To them, we are a mild nuisance at best. And so, I must confront the truth, Britannia's might is unquestionable. For every soul that dives off the cliff for the fight of freedom, I shed a tear. Eventually, there would be no more Numbers willing to take the risk and my eyes might finally dry. Because Britannia continues to expand and the ranks of Numbers continues to be replenished, my tears continue to flow.
—Cease to Shed Tears, an open letter by Ian Cort
Forward Base Division 712, Near Ottawa, Area 2
"Lelouch Lamperouge, come inside."
Lelouch cast a quick glance at his remaining squad mates and Roy's somber face, who gave him a small encouraging smile, before following the officer into the towering tent. There were consequences to liberally interpreting an order, but Lelouch couldn't bring himself to regret and he knew Roy didn't either. The squadron had survived and that was all that mattered.
Rolling his shoulders back, Lelouch lifted his chin and gazed upon the three officers sitting at the front. Lelouch had bought them time and these men had squandered it. He had heard the hushed whispers of the total casualties. An entire third of the division had been lost. The greatest one day loss within the division in over a decade. Barely a day had passed, but he could feel the weight of the absence of his comrades… or perhaps that was the agony within his muscles. The deaths could have been prevented.
"Private Lamperouge?" asked the officer, sitting at the middle of the table and not even bothering to look up from his pile of papers.
"Yes sir."
"Sit down on the bench to your right." His hand pointed at the lone worn down bench before him.
"Yes sir." Lelouch sat, his spine straight as a board, in contrast to the slouching officers. His eyes swept over them, noticing the bags under their eyes, hastily hidden beneath powdery makeup, cracking in the cold.
The officer who had affirmed Lelouch's identity, laid down his stack of papers and cleared his throat. Wincing, he grabbed the small glass of water and took a long sip. "This is a preliminary hearing on the events occurring approximately between twenty-three hundred October seventeen and o'one hundred October eighteen. This hearing is being overseen by myself, Acting Major General Bludwig. To my left, is Second Lieutenant Sitwell and to my right, Second Lieutenant Foretescue. We will now begin the hearing of Private Lelouch Lamperouge of unit KY-7."
Finished, Lord Bludwig slouched over the desk and began shuffling through the various papers. The tent was silent except the sound of repairs and trucks thundering through the snow. The other two officers shifted and gazed at their superior. The one on the right cleared his throat
Lord Bludwig lowered his papers, glaring at the man. "If you will, Second Lieutenant?"
Lelouch's lip twitched as Lord Bludwig went back to perusing his papers. Lord Fortescue's face reddened and he cleared his throat again and stood up, his chair scraping against the dirt floor. He opened his mouth, shut it again, and shuffled through the papers on his desk. When he finally straightened, a paper held victoriously in his hands, Lelouch struggled to keep his face straight at the sheer incompetence of the man before him.
"Private Lamperouge, will you recount what occurred on the night of October Seventeen?" Fortescue asked, his voice grating.
"My unit and I were on guard duty. I saw a burst of light and radioed it in sir."
Fortescue scowled. "You were the radio operator that night?"
"Yes. Unit KY-3 moved in to investigate and was gunned down."
Sharply, "And how do you know that?"
Second Lieutenant Sitwell cleaned his ear with his finger and stared at it sadly, clearly bored.
"We heard gunfire over the radio sir. KY-3-A reported they were surrounded by a surprise attack and divulged his intent to die in combat. I reported the incident to my superior Lieutenant Bugge. He ordered us to hold our position. That was the last order we received sir."
"Your unit did not hold your position Private. You disobeyed a direct order." Fortescue bared his teeth and leaned over the table. "Nor did you call in for additional orders. Your unit went black for the duration of the attack. Do you have anything to say Private?"
Second Lieutenant Sitwell sat a little straighter, piercing Lelouch with his own gaze.
Suppressing the urge to shift or look away, Lelouch replied, "We assumed radio communication to be compromised."
Papers slammed down on the desk and the Acting Major General barked, "I have heard enough. Arrest him. We will deal with his court martial later."
Two guards strode into the tent and freezing manacles clicked around his hands. Without any fanfare, he was dragged out of the tent and chained to one of many wooden posts in the ground. A lone guard sat on a crate, sharpening his knife, and observed his prisoners. A smatter of bullets burst through the air.
Then the soldiers returned to the field of stakes and prisoners, hauling a few more away.
His guts churned and bile rose in his throat.
He should have risked sneaking out to send a birthday present to Nunnally.
Tsukuba, Area 11
Suzaku wasn't sure what possessed him to help Chiba and Tohdoh-Sensei. His face was covered by a bandanna and he felt absolutely ridiculous, surrounded by older teenagers and undercover soldiers. Suzaku knew how to wield a sword, and a hurried lesson from Chiba ensured he knew how to fire a gun without rising injury to himself. But surrounded by those with more experience, he felt out of place: an imposter.
Who would accept a father murderer after all?
Stepping onto the street, Suzaku pulled his bandanna higher as the reeking stench of human excrement hit him. In comparison to Shinjuku and other areas within Tokyo, Tsukuba felt like a desolate wasteland and the people living there, as mere scavengers. Old apartment buildings not only showed damage from the invasion, but of a tornado that had swept through the area earlier in the year. A cat with skin stretched across its ribs, dashed over the street and scaled the crumbling wall. It was within this squalor that the team dispersed, intent on collecting more information on the lord that had claimed the territory: Earl Seymour.
Walking past garbage piled onto the street, Suzaku realized the sheer luck that had befallen the citizens of Tokyo to have Lord Ashford in charge. The man had turned on electricity and water in all the neighborhoods, even the ones housing Numbers. He kept the streets clean free of charge despite declaring taxes null for the year. It gave everyone the chance to settle down, but next year, they would have to scrounge up the money he would undoubtedly demand.
Suzaku had heard the heated debates of his countrymen raging against Britannia, Lord Ashford, and the injustice of it all. If only they could see the once proud city of Tsukuba, a city Suzaku's own father had invested time and effort into to create a scientific powerhouse, reduced to nothing. The once proud universities were now used to house the nobles or used to produce the very drug they were investigating.
Eyes peered through the cracks of boarded windows, and Suzaku shifted from side to side. He could feel the condemning gazes, but he had accepted the mission, and would stay here. This was for his people's sake. If he continued to protect the people of Japan, then perhaps his father's death wouldn't be meaningless.
And maybe his mangled, bloody corpse with dead accusing eyes would finally stop haunting his dreams.
Maybe.
Suzaku pushed the doubt away and the nagging voice that asked him if his course of action was truly right. He was protecting his people and that was all that mattered. Everything had to be for someone else. The son of the Prime Minister was not allowed to be selfish. He couldn't ask his father to make time for him and play. His father had important work and important people to see. He couldn't ask his mother to comfort him after a nightmare, her own job as a legal consultant led her to staying up long past the sunset to read through important papers.
An older soldier, Kudo, patted his shoulder, and they walked into what was once a small convenience store. The faded sign hung askew from the roof. Inside, people curled up on thin blankets, deathly pale. A woman, her face aged before its time, cried as she stumbled towards the door, only to be intercepted by someone else, whispering to her reassuringly and leading her back to her mat.
Kudo walked forward and held out their bag of medical supplies. "Kagome?"
A young woman squealed and threw herself forward, pulling him into a hug. "I can't believe you came, Kudo. I thought I would never see you again."
He huffed and returned the hug, before pushing the bag into her arms. "It looks like you need it Kagome-chan."
She looked inside and tears welled in her eyes. "This is for us?"
"Of course."
"Thank you!" she cried, bowing deeply.
The commotion drew the attention of others who crowed in delight at the bag of medical supplies and began to thank everyone, including Suzaku profusely. Suzaku edged backwards, as someone returned to bow, not sure how to deal with the awe in their eyes. They had just brought some simple medicine. Nothing special. Yet for these people, it was like they had hung the moon.
Kagome-san pulled them inside and brought them to a small office with a boarded up window and a ceiling fan missing a blade. She sat down on the office chair and watched them file in, a sad smile on her face. The door clicked shut. "What do you want?"
"Nothing," Kudo was quick to assure, his hands up in the air. "We heard you needed the supplies."
"Nobody is that nice. Whatever your group is offering, we don't want it. We already bought protection. You aren't needed."
Kudo seemed to wilt and he placed the bag on the desk. "Whatever happens. This is yours. All we ask that you use it for the people who need it. We don't have the resources to offer protection, but we have supplies and we're willing to trade for it."
She grabbed the bag and walked to the door, throwing it outside, before shutting it again. Smoothing her skirt, she sat down again. "You won't be getting it back."
"Of course not."
"Good," she leaned back. "I admit it's good to know you're alive, but that was the past. I'm not your chan or anything anymore. I don't have that luxury. Understood Kudo-san?"
He nodded.
"Now what do you want to trade," Kagome swept out her arms, "as you can see we're rather short on valuables."
"Information. We heard rumors regarding Earl Seymour… and a drug?"
Her face twisted in disgust. "That man is a blight on the human race along with that royal family."
Suzaku shifted as he remembered Nunnally's innocent and blinding smile.
"You object boy?" Kagome barked.
"No," he lied. "I just wondered why."
Her eyes narrowed and without looking, she opened a drawer and plopped a vial onto the desk. "Because of this tar that runs through the veins of the people I love. It's got some fancy Greek name or something, but we call it Refrain," she looked away and whispered, "because they never do."
Kudo grabbed the vial and stared at the clear liquid glimmering innocently inside. "What does it do?"
"Makes all the pain go away," she hissed, "like every other shitty drug. But this one? It takes away your identity until all that is left is the past and the thought of the next dose. Initially, an improper dose made you a dead man walking within a month. But then the Earl got smarter and watered it down. Before he had to calculate the proper dosage for his so-called employees, practically slaves, but now, with it out in the street, they come to him and are so desperate they accept anything for the next dose. Unlike before, they're functioning invalids now."
"But why risk it? Just for… a painkiller?"
"Everyone has lost someone and with it you have the chance to see them again. All the happy times..."
The words slipped away as Suzaku stared at the vial. His father... He wanted to say he was sorry. They were led outside, Kudo asking questions and Suzaku knew he should be listening, but all he could see was that vial and the possibility of seeing his father again.
A sharp slap brought him back to reality and he stared into Kudo's furious face. "Get your head in the game!"
"He's a liability. "Just one word and he wants to see. Some folks are like that with no control. They yearn to return to the past at the expense of all reason. He has to stay."," Kagome said.
"No!" Suzaku shouted as Kudo turned away with the rest of the team. He had to protect his people... but if this drug made them happy... and he couldn't succumb to his desire. "I have to go."
"Why?" Kagome snarled, pulling on his ear. "You're not going to be able to walk into the den and see the vial, without thinking, maybe, maybe, a little bit won't hurt. And then you'll be out like a light and your friends will have to carry your dead body out and get killed in the process. Are you going to risk everything for a taste of happiness that you can never have?"
Would he be selfish?
He let them leave without another protest. Suzaku knew he didn't deserve repentance. He murdered his father. The only thing he wanted was to hug his father one last time and beg for forgiveness. He wasn't allowed to die, so he stayed, sulking on a mat, like all the other broken people around him.
An older man shuffled closer, his cracked teeth bursting into a smile as he looked onto Suzaku's face. "You're so sad."
The nurses rushed over, escorting the man back as he coughed. Suzaku closed his eyes as he leaned back and stared at the ceiling. Of course he was sad. His world had shattered and he had to keep living because he had promised. There was kindness out there. There was kindness in this room. Some people were kind, some people were cruel. Good and evil. Right and wrong. Once there had been a line dividing the two, but now, it was blurred to the point of uselessness.
He rolled over and something poked into his abdomen. Scowling at the interruption, Suzaku reached under the mat and felt for the offending object. His hand closed around a vial.
Forward Base Division 712, Near Ottawa, Area 2
As the sun began to set, Lelouch felt hands wrap around his arms and drag him back inside the tent. Half-frozen and starving, Lelouch didn't have the energy to resist. Once again, he sat on the bench and faced the three judges. Only this time, there was something different. It took embarrassingly long for Lelouch to turn his head and stared at the man besides him: York.
York had the audacity to wink, before pointedly looking back at the judges, every fiber of his being screaming that of a loyal Britannian soldier. Not having the energy to ponder the man's game, Lelouch looked back at the judges. Their dismissive gaze ignited a spark of outrage deep within him. Lelouch had done nothing wrong beyond surviving. He had bought the camp time. He wouldn't be cowed by men who couldn't even bother sitting straight.
Lelouch sat up straight.
His frozen muscles screamed in protest and quivered, but he refused to slouch or show weakness. He was Lelouch Lamperouge and he would never give up.
"This trial is called to order," Lord Bludwig banged a gavel on the table. "We've all been introduced before, so let us skip the pointless pedantic introductions and rules. What matters simply is that Lelouch Lamperouge is accused of mutiny for disobeying direct orders and convincing others in his squadron to do the same. Second Lieutenant Fortescue—"
Said lord coughed and whispered into Lord Bludwig's ear.
"—My apologies," he drawled, "apparently I need to keep track of lunch time promotions now. Not that there isn't enough work to go around. Major Fortescue moves to add the charge of treason for consorting with the Count and impersonating a noble officer. Sergeant Malfoire will be your defense counsel. How do you plead Private?"
Distantly, a part of Lelouch wondered why people kept accusing him of treason. Another part wondered if the world was trying to tell him something about his father. There was of course only one way to plead, so he quietly rasped, "Not guilty."
"The defendant pleads not guilty. Second Lieutenant Sitwell will now commence with the questioning."
Second Lieutenant Sitwell stood slowly and walked before the table. "Lieutenant Colonel actually. Lunch time promotion."
Lord Bludwig glowered and waved his hand absently, before turning back to his papers.
"Private Lamperouge, do you deny disobeying a direct order to hold your position?"
Lelouch spared a quick glance at York who sat idly by. "No sir."
"Yet, you plead not guilty?"
It was hard to think with a churning stomach and the pain of slowly thawing limbs. His mouth dried as he searched for the appropriate answer.
York calmly said, "The charge is mutiny Lieutenant Colonel, not insubordination."
The officer sneered. "Let the defendant speak, Sergeant Malfoire."
"Of course Lieutenant Colonel. It is just my job to make sure the truth is known."
Lelouch's fingernails bit into his skin and his heart began to beat a little faster. Truth. A dangerous thing and much too dangerous to be revealed in a tent where hundreds of spying ears could hear.
He had to think.
To speak.
Feeling as if he was looking through a long tunnel, detached from his body except by fragile puppet strings, his head turned and a confident smile crept onto his face. The words were his, yet belonged to a distant stranger. "I will only plead guilty to insubordination Lieutenant Colonel."
"Private Doe and Private Sullivan abandoned the guard post at the same time. Why do you imagine that is?"
"A desire to live perhaps. I did not command or ask them to join me."
Major Fortescue stood up abruptly. "Cease this farce of questioning Lord Sitwell. Mutiny and insubordination are irrelevant. He collaborated with the enemy and is a traitor."
Lieutenant Colonel Sitwell stormed over to his coworker. "Rules and regulations exist for a reason. I have proof of mutiny, yet you would desire to prosecute this boy on hearsay."
"And you cling to the rules as if they were your mother's skirt. Treason is of greater importance and thus should be tried first."
"And sentence him to death."
"Yes!" Major Fortescue yelled as he leaned over the table and brought his fists down with a slam. "Forthwith. Traitors to the crown are a waste of space."
"And rob us of the opportunity to hear the boy's testimony. But perhaps that is what you desire. Worried that it will reveal some misappropriations of funds on your part? Again?"
"You insult my honor! Such baseless accusations will not be toler—"
"—Enough!" shouted Lord Bludwig. "You two will cease your pointless squabbling. You got promoted." He turned and glared at the two. "Big deal! Get over it! I for one would like to actually sleep for once. So just get this over with."
Lord Bludwig sat down with a thud and glanced at the water slowly dripping down from the table. "And someone get me a new glass of water!"
York stood up, half bowing, he calmly asked, "May I offer a suggestion?"
"Another suggestion Malfoire? You're a soldier, not an adviser." He massaged his temple. "Well bloody get it out will you? I don't have time to write your obstinate ass up for insubordination."
York's answering grin was terrifying. "I suggest that I simply question the defendant and lay out the facts of the case for expediency's sake. The honorable Major and Lieutenant Colonel may ask clarifying questions afterwards. Would you find this agreeable?"
Lord Bludwig accepted the glass of water brought in and stared at it mournfully. "Just get this over with."
"Of course my lord." York bowed and turned to Lelouch. "What compelled you to head out into the forest in the middle of the night and abandon the safety of the guard post?"
The officers twitched at the wordings, but didn't interrupt.
Forcing his voice to remain level and clear as possible, despite the scratchiness in the back of his throat, Lelouch answered, "After hearing our comrades die, we were worried that doing nothing would lead to defeat. Unit KY-3 was composed of our seniors and whatever had taken them out, would easily have destroyed our own squad. I sought to gather more information so we could find a weakness in the enemy's forces."
"Why didn't you extinguish your light like the other squadrons on guard duty?"
Lelouch scowled bitterly. "Given the snowstorm, neither our squadron or the enemy had any visibility. Lieutenant Bugge knew our lantern was on, turning it off would have removed any tactical advantage he had."
York nodded and turned back to the officers. "I wish to reiterate, as we saw through the numerous testimonies today, every other squadron turned off their lantern after hearing unit KY-3 fall. Lieutenant Bugge, being unaware of the fact, attempted to prepare a defensive movement accounting for lit lanterns. If the lantern had been turned off, the scarce forces he was able to muster would have been completely useless."
Major Fortescue crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. "Be that as it may, he still broke orders. Following one order, does not excuse the Private's numerous other offenses."
"If memory serves me correctly, we let the other units off with a slap on the wrist. And their blunder had much greater potential consequences, Major."
Lieutenant Colonel Sitwell nodded and leaned forward. "Considering the catastrophic losses we suffered Sergeant Malfoire, your argument is inadequate and unfortunately, with Lieutenant Bugge's passing, you have no proof that Private Lamperouge's actions had a positive impact. Lieutenant Bugge may have been perfectly aware that the other squadrons had extinguished their lamps"
"So you claim instead that Lieutenant Bugge was inadequate and thus lost his life. Either Private Lamperouge's offence was minor and prevented casualties or Lord Bugge was a moron."
The other lords narrowed their eyes in anger at York's blatant mockery and Lieutenant Colonel Sitwell snarled, "Lord Bugge was an honorable man. His conduct is not being questioned today."
York simply gave a careless shrug. "I just wish for you to ponder this as we continue. Private Lamperouge, why did you take the radio with you?"
"If I got lost, it would have been the only way to call for help. If I found any information of great importance, I could warn Lieutenant Bugge."
Nodding, York interrupted, "But you never contacted Lieutenant Bugge."
"No. I was hailed by a man professing to be a loyal civilian who had stumbled onto a soldier suffering from frostbite." Lelouch paused as he noticed the subtle straightening of their backs at his more formal language. "I presumed he was with the attackers and requested his location, under the guise of looking to rescue my comrade."
Lieutenant Colonel Sitwell tapped his finger on the table. "And what of the claims that a Britannian officer was conferring with this man?"
Major Fortescue snorted. "You impersonated nobility to communicate with the enemy. No other proof of treason is needed."
"Please my lord," York said, "You are being hasty."
Lelouch smirked. "Major. Do you think of me as a noble now?"
"Of course not! A peasant such as yourself could never hope to compare."
"But for the uneducated, a noble is simply well spoken. It is obvious I am not a noble," Lelouch paused as he considered his next words with disgust, "Numbers, uneducated as they are, could not hope to distinguish between a commoner, such as myself, and a noble officer of great renown. And those who rebel against the Empire are of similar mental fortitude, the difference between us is indecipherable, since we rank so highly above."
At the sharp look from Lord Bludwig, Lelouch pressed his lips together. Perhaps his speech, pandering to their egos, had been a bit over the top. Lord Bludwig shook his head and stared up at the ceiling for a moment, before tidying his papers and setting them to the side.
Lord Bludwig cleared his throat. "Did you ever claim to be an officer?"
"No sir."
"As no one can remember who the officer claimed to be, it was clearly a heat in the moment assumption. It would behoove of us to teach our soldiers to confirm any so-called officer's identity before making assumptions. And what, Private Lamperouge, did you, Private Sullivan, and Private Doe do next?"
Lelouch closed his eyes, recollecting the moments wandering through the dark and the sudden chaos at finding the Count's army. "I sought to buy time as we headed to the river, so I continued to keep in radio contact with the Count. We stumbled across the Crows in the midst of the forest and the enemy knightmare. Henry, Private Sullivan, slipped away to collect more information. I asked Alex to act as a sniper, hoping to sow confusion. At this time, the Count called my bluff and his forces prepared to leave."
He had been sitting there in the tree, utterly alone, armed only with a gun and a radio, as the army began to march to the guard post. At the small cough from the table, Lelouch refocused and continued, "I am unfortunately not the best shot, even in the best of weather, so I decided to move in closer. Most of their forces were centered in the front, so I followed along the rear. Fortunately, the trees impeded the movement of their heavy artillery and they hadn't headed back to the river where they would have had an easier time maneuvering. Given this... the tanks began to lag behind with their equipment."
Crouched behind a tree with his heart hammering in his ears, Lelouch had watched them pass by and sought an opportunity. Masked in darkness, he had seen a glowing sakuradite cell and an old memory tingled. The sakuradite traps in Japan had yielded massive explosions, far beyond what he had thought possible. The cause of which, he was still unsure of. Still, the energy fillers were filled with sakuradite cells and they had been just sitting there under the falling snow.
"I saw the energy fillers on a snowmobile following the rear." The man driving it had been old with wrinkles by his eyes. His body had fallen to the ground with a heavy thump and the blood first rushed from his head onto the pristine snow. Then the blood flowed like cold chocolate syrup, until all that there was left was a crusty remain. Perhaps the man hadn't died, but the cold would have robbed that man of any chance of survival. The old unnamed man in the snow was Lelouch's third.
A lump in his throat, Lelouch continued. "I commandeered the snowmobile. And used my armband to fix the throttle. It raced forward and crashed into a tank's rear."
The heat of the explosion had blistered Lelouch's face and the hot steam had physically thrown him back and unthawed his frozen toes. Fortunately, he had managed to hold on his gun despite having the wind knocked out of him and stared up at the trees illuminated by the dying flames.
"The resulting explosion took out a significant portion of the Count's forces and caused panic in their ranks. Private Doe took that as a signal to begin firing."
"And what was Private Sullivan doing at this time?"
Henry had rushed over to his aide, hauling him onto a snowmobile and pressing a cloth against the bleeding cut on his brow. Lelouch remembered the snowmobile vibrating beneath them as Henry carried him to safety and leaned him against a tree. A heating pad had been pressed into his hands, and Henry rushed away.
"Henry stole a snowmobile and used it to fire on the enemy, causing more panic."
Hearing the mayhem, Lelouch had finally found the strength to fill his lungs with air and pulled out the radio, not able to resist making one last final taunt. Upon reflection, it perhaps hadn't been a wise decision, but he had been too high on adrenaline to care. He had waited there, sitting against the tree, until Henry had returned.
"The Count stormed ahead, faster than we could keep up. Henry, Alex, and I regrouped, before marching back to camp. By the time we returned, the Crows were beginning to retreat," Lelouch finished and relaxed, his muscles screaming in agony.
York took a small step forward, drawing the attention of the officers. "Acting Major General, if I may direct your attention to the intelligence report on your desk?"
Flipping through the papers, Lord Bludwig pulled out the paper and leaned back, his forehead scrunching as he read through it. Placing it down on the desk again, he looked to his sides and grimaced. "Sergeant Malfoire. We're going to have a talk this evening. But as the intelligence analysis supports Sergeant Malfoire's own assertion, that squadron KY-7's decision to keep the lantern on, saved us from a total defeat."
"And what of the charges sir?" Major Fortescue asked. "He admitted to consorting with a terrorist."
"All charges of treason and mutiny will be dismissed. Private Doe and Sullivan's testimony corroborates that they followed Private Lamperouge of their own volition. Private Lamperouge is correct that leaving their post had no possible negative ramifications on the battle. The fact remains that Private Lamperouge disobeyed a direct order, so he will be charged with insubordination and have his pay docked for the month."
Lieutenant Colonel Sitwell leaned back, popped a breath mint, and closed his eyes.
Major Fortescue protested vehemently.
The gavel struck the desk once again, cutting through Major Fortescue's objections and jolting Lieutenant Colonel Sitwell awake. Lord Bludwig gently lay the gavel on the table. "If you insist that Private Lamperouge is such a loose cannon, you may oversee him yourself, Major. As it is, our entire command structure has been obliterated and I have enough folks breathing down my neck because it is apparently all my responsibility now. Corporal Lamperouge seems to be a fine upstanding Britannian citizen. Young as he is, a lack of discipline is to be expected. So teach him yourself and stop complaining to me about it."
"Sir?" Lelouch asked as Major Fortescue spluttered incoherently.
Lord Bludwig glowered. "Yes you heard that right. You're being promoted! Now get out of my sight. I wasted enough time on you. And tell somebody I need my coffee. Black. Not the watered down swill."
"Thank you sir." Lelouch bowed and turned around before Lord Bludwig could change his mind.
York caught his arm and whispered, "My office at o'five-hundred tomorrow morning."
"Yes sir." Lelouch slipped away, knowing he could no longer avoid York. If he did, the man would physically drag him to his office. For now, he would celebrate his survival.
He stepped out of the tent.
A bone crushing hug followed. Roy smiled and ruffled Lelouch's hair, relief clear in his eyes. Alex stepped back, before pulling Lelouch into another hug. This time, Lelouch returned it. Frederick just laughed and joined the group hug, followed by Edgar, who pulled in Roy. Henry, standing awkwardly at the side, finally relented and patted Lelouch on the shoulder.
"I'm fine guys," Lelouch said as he disentangled himself, stepped back, and straightened his uniform. "I'm not in trouble, just a slap on the wrist."
"We heard," Alex said, "Tents are not meant to keep stuff secret. But seriously, Sergeant Malfoire was kicking ass today. He was acting as everyone's counsel. I want to be him when I grow up. He literally knows everything."
"It's good to see you, was half worried we'd never see you after the night. And then the explosions. Should've called you Pyro-boy."
"It's straightforward," Lelouch protested, "It's not like I want to set things on fire."
Edgar rolled his eyes and pushed a large piece of bread into his hands. "We'll need to clean that head wound of yours. Henry did a surprisingly decent job. Any blurriness to your vision?"
Swallowing a half-chewed piece of bread, Lelouch reached up to touch his forehead and felt the rough scab, which began to itch furiously. "I didn't even notice."
"Of course you didn't." Edgar glanced around and pulled another chunk of bread from beneath his coat. "You haven't eaten all day. Now sit. It's a wonder you can even stand."
Frederick ignored Lelouch's protests, as he helped guide Lelouch to a fallen tree. Once seated, the strength in his legs fled and his eyelids fluttered heavily. Lelouch took another bite of the bread and drank eagerly from the offered flask of water.
"Don't ever contact a terrorist again," Roy began to scold. "I damn near had a heart attack when they said they were charging you with treason. They should've charged me. I was the one to tell you to go out."
"Of course they didn't," the familiar voice of Pablo interrupted as he walked up to the gathered squadron. With an easy smile, he held out a paper bag. "I have cookies. Although, rumor has it, Lelouch deserves them the most."
Lelouch accepted them without a word, too tired to talk. The chocolate melted on his tongue and his eyes felt a little lighter while the headache slowly eased.
Crossing his arms, Roy asked, "What do you mean 'of course they didn't? Clearly, I was at fault."
"You're rich," Pablo shot back as he settled on the log. "If they try to charge you, your family would hear and bring it to a proper court with real lawyers. Not that informal thing."
Edgar reached into the bag and grabbed a cookie. "Informal? They were executing folks all day."
"Desertion," Pablo explained, his face bitter, "an automatic death sentence for any Honorary Britannian. All of you would at least have had the chance to defend yourself. Still, they really wanted to pin Lelouch. Guess the blaming the Numbers excuse wasn't working any more in the capital. If they could have argued that a Britannian was at fault, then they don't have to worry about making us look too smart."
Lelouch took another cookie and closed his eyes. Food was bliss. "How did your squadron do?"
Pablo looked away. "Rodri died caught up in the knightmare fight. One minute he was there, and the next the knightmares were on top of him. Sergey got shot in the cross-fire. And Manuel, he got shot in the leg. Crippled, so his family won't see a cent. But, Lelouch, a letter arrived for you in the mail."
"Crap," Lelouch muttered as he grabbed the letter and tore it open. It was from his sister.
"What?"
"All my pay is being docked. How am I supposed to get her a birthday present?"
The squadron laughed at his plight and offered to sponsor him. Lelouch smiled softly, they were truly the best. If only he knew how to get Nunnally's birthday present now. Looking back into the letter, he pulled out a second sheet, which was for Pablo. Letting the conversation wash over him, Lelouch pulled out a pencil and tore off a scrap piece of paper from the cookie bag and began to transcribe the letter.
As Pablo began to say his goodbyes, Lelouch shoved the scrap of paper into his hand and whispered, "As promised."
Pablo's eyes widened in understanding and clapped Lelouch on the back and leaned to whisper: "Day after tomorrow, sunset, by the mess hall. I'll help you find something for your sister."
Tsukuba, Area 11
Reuben stared out of the helicopter at the city below him. The buildings were in disrepair, yet the clean layout of the street held strong. He could see the various compounds of what had once been a proud university of cutting edge research. This had been Japan's city of knowledge, and now... Now there was nothing left behind. Earl Seymour had seized the land to leech its inhabitants dry. There was no concern for the subtle art of economics, just brutal taxation.
Intellectually, he understood that not every lord had such monetary resources in reserve that they could afford to skip taxes for a year. Reuben had heard the murmurings in court of him being too soft hearted. A part of him had agreed and wondered if a show of strength might better benefit him in the long run, but looking down at the destitute remains of a once strong city, he felt as if his decision had been the right one.
There would be consequences for appearing weak from increased terrorism, but he couldn't ignore the human plight. The Numbers bled red like everyone. they were still human and as such, deserved to live. Already in the city below him, he could see buildings being torn down or refurbished for Lord Seymour's lavish estate. To the Earl, the Numbers were simply in the way of development.
The helicopter began to descend to the central building and Reuben spared a glance at Thomas sitting impassively and his new intern, Naoto Kouzuki, or as he was officially known, Nathan Walker, gripping the seat with skeleton fingers. It reminded him of Milly and her own fear of heights. His mouth opened to offer some reassurance, before he shut it again, awkwardness befalling him. The boy was not his granddaughter, but a half-Number. He would undoubtedly see Reuben's actions condescending.
The helicopter landed and Thomas moved first, opening the door for Reuben. Nathan trailed afterwards. Ahead, he could see the portly Earl Seymour and a collection of servants wait passively.
The Earl stepped forward. "Margrave Ashford. It is an honor to meet you. You didn't need to bother yourself with flying out here for a simple business deal."
Tilting his head at the man, Reuben continued to walk forward, not waiting for Earl Seymour to lead. "I find in-person meetings help foster better business relationships."
"That is truly cunning. Of course, what else is to be expected of someone who has the Emperor's favor. Please, allow me to show you around our humble estate. A man of your talents will surely appreciate the labs we have established. In a few years, they will be the envy of the Empire."
Reuben forced a cordial smile. He loathed business meetings. "That would be wonderful. I admit I have some fondness for labs."
"Then I must show you our clean room in action. We are already sub-contracting knightmare parts. The Empire just cannot have enough, if you catch my drift. But what I truly hold dear, is our chemistry labs. None can compare." Lord Seymour led them into a red sitting room, with opulent golden mirrors on the far side. "May I offer some refreshments before the tour?"
"Yes please. A glass of water for my companions."
Lord Seymour snarled at a Number absently cleaning the mirror in the far corner of the room. "You heard the Margrave! Refreshments. Fetch me one of the vintage bottles." He turned around and seated himself in a leather armchair. "Now what business opportunities did you have in mind? I dabble in nearly everything, so surely we will find something befitting your palette."
Reuben sat down and watched Thomas and Nathan move to the far corner of the room from the corner of his eyes. "My import needs are currently being met. It is exports that I wish to discuss tonight, among a few other issues."
"Exports?" Earl Seymour raised a single manicured eyebrow and grabbed the wine glass from the servant girl returning. "I admit, I'm not sure how I can help you Lord Ashford. Exports... I prefer being self reliant and don't find myself in need of much. And while I know you're sitting on a rather large amount of grain, I'm afraid that I cannot take it off your hands. My dietary needs are more than being met. My doctor has been telling me that I need to reduce the number of pastries. Alas, no more grain imports for me."
The girl flinched as Reuben moved to grab his own wine glass and he raised it to his lips, to over his frown. "Pastries are the greatest weakness of all lords, I must say."
Lord Seymour threw back his head and laughed. "I like you. Sometimes I say the French ought to focus on pastry production. Not me mind you, but quite a few friends of mine would open their doors for an endless supply of croissants, madeleines, and macaroons. Truly the greatest threat to Britannia is foreign food. We must hurry and conquer China. I desperately am in need of a Chinese chef. But now I feel awful, surely there is something I can do for you?"
Reuben swirled the bloody wine gently. "I have been hearing some rather troubling rumors. Perhaps you could put my mind at ease and settle them?"
Earl Seymour clutched his heart. "Rumors? Me? My wife knows about my... dalliances on the side. And she has her own suite of gentlemen to entertain her. She provided me with a son and that's all I concern myself with. Do you want to see pictures?" Not awaiting a response, he got up and wandered over to the cabinet to pull out a photo album. "Little Jon is sooo adorable. I swear he grows cuter every minute. But the media, they love to harp on my infidelity. Makes good news, but it's all rather simpler, I just enjoy fine things."
"If only it were that benign," Reuben replied and his eyes darted over to Thomas, standing ready as always. He couldn't find himself to trust the other lord and his well practiced routine. "There are concerns regarding health in your city."
"Bah, you mean the Numbers? They love to exaggerate, the worthless things they are. Like take that one over there. Always trembling, but never finishes the job. Cute though, so I'm rather partial towards keeping her. Unless you want to give her a try?"
Reuben glanced at the young girl, who could barely be older than fourteen and suppressed a shudder. It seemed that the rumors might have been more well founded than he initially thought... and perhaps even greater sins to be discovered behind the curtain of wealth. "My employees serve me quite well. Rumors say your Numbers collapse on the street and by the time they hit the ground, they're dead."
"It hardly concerns me. They can work and receive food. If their national pride is too much, then let them die in the street. It's not as if any Britannian would even set foot in there."
"You leave the dead out in the open?" Reuben asked aghast. Hundreds of potential reasons flew through his mind as to why that would be a terrible idea, yet he knew they wouldn't sway the man before him.
"It hardly matters," Earl Seymour replied, "Eventually, the corpses vanish. Even I admit that a pile of corpses on my streets would be most unseemly. There is nothing to worry health wise. The problems of those creatures don't concern us."
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Nathan take a half angry step forward. This wasn't how Reuben had wanted to acclimate the boy to working beneath him. Thomas inched a little closer, wary of the boiling kettle.
"Numbers do not fall dead on their own Lord Seymour. And whatever ails your Numbers may soon travel to the Britannain citizens. Then we will have a problem on our hands. I refused to have such an issue arise in my city. It is disastrous for the economy."
"There is no need to concern yourself Lord Ashford. It is a simple weakness in the Numbers that leads to such situations."
"You know the cause?" Reuben accused.
The man grimaced, drained his wine, and ordered the girl to bring him a refill. "Let me assure you Lord Ashford. There is no need for concern. I will handle it and those rumors will disperse. It's just a smear campaign concocted by my rivals. You understand Lord Ashford? I have heard you are experiencing similar difficulties. I can help you smooth over those bumps."
Reuben set the unfinished wine down on the side table and glanced at the girl, head bowed, scurrying back into the room with a pitcher for a refill. Her hands trembled as she poured the wine and then she sat on the ground, frozen, besides a small twitch in the foot. Testing a theory, Rueben shifted in his seat and knocked down the wine glass. It shattered on the floor.
"My sincere apologies," Reuben said as he pulled out a handkerchief to dab the dripping red pearls. "I'm afraid that old age has made me rather clumsy."
Mindless of the shards, the girl knelt besides his chair to clean the mess. He could see small rivulets of blood winding down her knees and hand, yet she did not react. When she looked up briefly, her dilated pupils confirmed his suspicions: drugs.
Turning back to Seymour, Reuben asked, "In my experience, people try to reduce the number of drugged employees. If this is the status-quo here among the Numbers, which I suspect to be true, then we will have an issue."
Seymour snarled. "An issue? This is the only way they can be of some use. So obstinate these Numbers, not understanding that I am their better and refusing orders. You, who spare the whip and coddle them, have no room to speak. Mark my words, the Numbers will take advantage of your weakness and rise up. I am under no such delusions."
Reuben's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Many of your employees are indentured. Legally, a drugged person, Number or otherwise, cannot give consent. If the other rumors of you creating unspeakables are true as well, the Emperor will be most displeased. I wish you the best of luck with the upcoming investigation."
Seymour stood up, snarling, "You dare accuse me within my own home!"
Thomas intercepted the frothing lord, before he had a chance to reach Reuben. The relaxed grip on the gun at Thomas's side, was enough to stop the lord in his tracks.
"You will regret this Ashford. I have powerful friends." Seymour waited for a moment and turned on his heels, walking out. "You may escort yourself out. You're no longer welcome here."
"My lord?" Nathan whispered.
"Yes Nathan?" Reuben replied as he led the young servant girl to the side and began to remove the shards of glass entrenched in her skin. Up close, he could see various other bruises, slowly fading, and long scratches. In the inside of her elbow, he spotted the injection marks and Reuben pursed his lips tightly. His kindness now, would not save her from future abuse. The justice system would move too slowly and given the type of man Seymour had revealed himself to be, there was a good chance an unfortunate accident would befall her and the other Numbers.
"Lord Seymour will be destroying evidence, won't he?"
Perhaps Reuben had been too hasty, caught up in unveiling human depravity. He should have waited, not revealed his hand. He looked at the girl and her face, obscured by a curtain of black hair. He swallowed and closed his eyes. She was going to die. "Yes."
"Do you have a plan?"
Even pushed by deadlines, Reuben's work in his labs had been a methodical affair. The human element never felt important enough to consider. Someone could lie as much as they wished, but the results would reveal the truth. Here, playing by the rules, meant losing. "I'll figure it out."
"But you," Nathan spluttered, "You're you! You threw all my dad's planning in his face. You always have a plan! You always know what to do! You're never surprised and always act like you're better."
The naive optimism of youth. "I know. But I'm not indefectible... I played within the confines of the rules... but Seymour has no such need."
"Then stop playing by the stupid rules. Britannia ruined everything and that was within your stupid rules."
Glancing at Thomas, standing idly by, but surely listening, Reuben considered the Emperor's potential displeasure. He couldn't break the rules and cast himself to the wolves. They would tear Milly apart.
"That's it?" Nathan shouted, taking a step forward. "And I thought maybe, maybe there was something redeemable. about you"
"You need to learn to hold your tongue," Reuben growled.
"Or what you'll kill me? Just like Seymour. You're all the same. Obsessed with power over others. You just have a better nice face. After all, how many lives have your inventions stolen?"
Thomas inched forward, focused on Nathan, and ready to intervene if necessary. It was glancing at Thomas's hard eyes, and the way his hand slipped too eagerly to the gun by his side, that finally stemmed Reuben's anger. He was furious, but furious at himself. Britannia wasn't perfect. He had known it for a long time and even seen it first hand in Kagoshima. Yet, he had done nothing. Changed nothing. Because Britannia was always right and Reuben believed in the system. It might be slow and corrupt, but justice would prevail.
The girl continued to absently clean the spilled wine, her arms trembling from fear or drugs. There would be no justice for her... or the countless others in the same position.
She was Milly's age.
Exhaling, Reuben said, "You're right."
Nathan froze.
"I turned a blind eye because it was easy." He gingerly grabbed the shaking girl's arm. She froze in his grip and part of his heart howled in grief. How many, just like her, had he condemned to death with his overzealousness? "I failed. It will happen again. But if I can save at least one person from my mistakes, I will."
Reuben lifted her too light body into the air. Already plans and contingencies were battering his skull. Technically, it was kidnapping, an illegal act. If his opponent played in the mud, should he stoop to their level? Order and society itself relied on an adherence to the rules. The system had served them well for ages and protected the citizens of Britannia from the prowling E.U. But by blindly adhering to the law, he would allow a greater injustice to pass.
The ramifications of Reuben's actions could wait until they slipped out of the viper's den unharmed. Reuben was simply following the spirit of the law. The churning in his gut mildly eased, Reuben cradled the child and walked to the door. "Legally, I may not win against Seymour. But, regardless, I will win."
And retribution was a pillar supporting Britannia's might. Reuben could move forward without concern. He was just upholding tradition.
Worldbuilding Thoughts:
-The trial was not a proper trial. Instead, it was a military court intended for internal affairs. It's unclear whether Code Geass's Britannia tries people in military or civilian court. Suzaku is a special case with his show trial, but it feels like it was more of civilian court. Interestingly, I discovered that Japan's judicial system is quite different from the U.S. The assumption of innocent until guilty is not true in practice there. I'd assume this is valid within the Code Geass universe as well... simply because it is a great way for dictatorships to function. The one thing I'm still not sure on is how Britannia judges guilt. Different legal systems have different takes. In the U.S, for example, you can be guilty of a breaking a law that you don't know exists or cannot understand. (I suspect this comes up quite often with taxes) This has lead to the necessity of Atkins V. Virginia where the supreme court ruled that it was unconstitutional to execute people with mental retardation.
-Refrain is mentioned in canon, but never fully explored. It's illegal, yet Suzaku used it to threaten Kallen. I'm wondering if refrain's production is therefore a military venture in enhanced interrogation (aka: torture). There's a lot of wiggle
-There was an actual tornado in Tsukuba, Japan in 2012.
Author's Note:
Thank you x1tears1X and Spaded Ace18 on FFN for your help with betaing.
Personally this was one of my favorite chapters to write, so I hope everyone enjoyed it just as much. As always, I'm open to constructive criticism and love hearing your thoughts. Reviews make my day. :) Stay safe everyone!
See you next week. (Or via: Discord: /uSBegVj )