Chapter 30: A Butterfly Flaps Its Wings
For if it be asked what security, what fence is there in such a state against the violence and oppression of this absolute ruler, the very question can scarce be borne. They are ready to tell you that it deserves death only to ask after safety. Betwixt subject and subject, they will grant, there must be measures, laws, and judges for their mutual peace and security. But as for the ruler, he ought to be absolute, and is above all such circumstances; because he has a power to do more hurt and wrong, it is right when he does it. To ask how you may be guarded from or injury on that side, where the strongest hand is to do it, is presently the voice of faction and rebellion. As if when men, quitting the state of Nature, entered into society, they agreed that all of them but one should be under the restraint of laws; but that he should still retain all the liberty of the state of Nature, increased with power, and made licentious by impunity. This is to think that men are so foolish that they take care to avoid what mischiefs may be done them by polecats or foxes, but are content, nay, think it safety, to be devoured by lions.
—Second Treatise of Civil Government, Ch. VII, sec. 93 by John Locke
La Sarre, Area Two
In the attic of an old couple's house, Lelouch jerked upright and his hands clasped around the pistol beneath his pillow. He could have sworn he heard something. Snowflakes lazily descended outside the window. Across the room, Alex stood up and tiptoed over the sleeping bodies that obscured the floor. He picked up Lelouch's rifle and passed it to him.
Their eyes met.
An explosion rocked the house. Glass shattered downstairs and Lelouch could hear the worried screams of the old couple beneath them. The Count had come out to play.
The floor writhed with elbows and legs and blankets tying them together. They grunted and Lelouch pressed himself against the wall as he grabbed the radio and winced as Colonel Fortescue screamed orders. Henry opened the door and the soldiers hurried out of the door in a disorganized mess.
A gunshot.
The rifles discharged and Lelouch ran out of the door in time to see the old man, a gun in his hand, fall down to the ground. His wife screamed and reached for the gun, before bullets struck her.
Later, Lelouch would consider whether they deserved to die. But for now, he ripped his eyes away from the smears of blood staining a family portrait, and stepped outside.
His men hid behind trash cans as bullets rained down from the sky and tore through windows. Somewhere, a baby wailed.
"Retreat inside!" Lelouch ordered. Outside was a death zone. "Get on the roof and take out the snipers."
The bells in the crooked bell tower tolled. Despite the explosions and frantic cries, all could hear the out of tune melody.
The Count hadn't shied away from civilian casualties before, but never had he outright attacked a town without warning. These were his people he claimed to serve, but they were dying in the streets as well.
A group of Crows passed beneath the attic window and Lelouch opened fire.
Behind him, Alex switched to code as he reported the enemy positions.
A whine shook the air. A block down, the house disappeared in a burst of flame and smoke.
"Who the hell authorized a mortar strike!" Lelouch demanded as he gazed at the smoky remains and licking flames.
Alex relayed his questions and then winced. "Fortescue."
"Does he not understand what danger close means?" Lelouch shifted the gun as the putrid fumes drifted over them. No. Of course not. Fortescue was an idiot. And they hadn't even spotted any Crows by the house he had so casually eradicated.
Three families had lived in that house: eight adults, five teens, six children, and two infants.
The bells continued to ring, playing a new melody.
"The Count's been spotted in the market," Alex hollered. "We're ordered to confront him there."
The enemy gunfire ceased. Civilians rushed through the street and headed to the town's center. La Sarre had an official population of 7,000, but the streets were crowded. The Crows had dispersed among the civilians with the aid of the locals fed up with housing Numbered soldiers.
A child hurried through the street and Lelouch grimaced. "Tell Fortescue the Count is using the civilians as cover."
Alex relayed the message and replied. "Orders are to open fire."
Another whine. Another building turned into smoke.
"They're civilians," Lelouch whispered. If Britannia couldn't protect those seen as human, then what purpose did it serve? An Empire served its people and enforced the law because without it, chaos would indiscriminately claim the lives of many. To open fire broke the unspoken contract.
Alex confirmed the orders and grimaced. "Fortescue is declaring all residents as traitors."
Because they lived here?
The bells fell deadly silent as shots echoed through the air. Lelouch's own rifle remained quiet. The fire crackled across the street and devoured the wooden roof. The house next door, separated by an inch, began to smoke. Among the pure dancing snowflakes, ash drifts to the blood stained grounds. The civilians had fled.
"Lelouch?" Alex rested a hand on his shoulder. "What are your orders? We're expected at the marketplace."
The bells resumed and the Crows reemerged who began to fire on the Britannian troops braving the street.
To save his men from Fortescue's wrath, Lelouch ordered, "Fire only… only on those who are carrying a weapon."
His men opened fire on the streets below and as the civilians once again took to the street, they continued to fire. There was no way the civilians would escape unscathed. What compelled them to sacrifice their lives for a leader who stood for nothing? Unarmed, they took the street and Lelouch watched a camera man cling to the walls as he followed the crowd. Propaganda for the Count.
The Count had constructed this scene and when the video of the massacre below struck the internet, riots would descend throughout Area Two. Britannia fired on its own people and the story would end there.
"Fortescue is ordering us to the market. We have to go," Alex reminded him and then rolled his eyes. "Thinks the Count is there."
The death trap of the narrow street beckoned and the fire crackled over the singing bells. The flame leapt from one roof to another.
"We're taking the roofs," Lelouch ordered.
Out of the window onto the icy roof, they climbed. The drifting smoke hid their movements from snipers on nearby roofs. Lelouch crawled and stared at the suddenly silent bell tower opposite from the market. Despite leaning, the tower was taller than every building and offered a perfect view.
Crows fired, civilians filled the street, and both disappeared. Rinse and repeat.
Ears rang from the constant barrage of gunfire and the snow was no longer white.
The bells began to play a new tune.
"Stop!" Lelouch barked and his voice echoed to his men spread across the rooftops.
A flash of light at the marketplace.
Lelouch ducked and covered his ears. The remaining windows shattered as a blast of hot air tore through the buildings and towering flames reached for the sky.
Then the wind howled as it ravaged the streets and swept debris towards the inferno.
In the streets, soldiers moaned and Lelouch stared at the distant encampment of the 256th Division to the left of the church. They desperately needed reinforcements.
The bells fell silent and Lelouch glanced at the leaning tower. "The Count is using the bells to coordinate across the town."
Alex swore and pulled out the radio. Predictably, Fortescue did not listen. He never listened, believing himself to always be right. He had led the platoons into a trap at the marketplace and ash was all that remained. And now, Fortescue wanted to chase the Count's shadow through the town and collapsing buildings. The Count had the footage he needed and delivered another debilitating blow.
Flashes of light from the encampment showed that reinforcements had finally been deployed. The fodder had sprung the trap and now the lords and proper Britannians would sweep through the street to catch any straggling Crows. Unlike last winter, the Count wasn't seeking support anymore or proving his strength. He was on a timeline and had to strike a devastating blow. Surely, unlike all previous times, the Count and his Crows would stay.
The bells continued to ring the same slow melody. If the fight was over, the Count's agent at the bell tower would leave as well. The fight was not yet done.
"It's another trap, Alex," Lelouch said. But what was the Count's objective? "If the Count has been sighted, it's because he wants us to chase him. We have to go to the bell tower."
"Our orders are unchanged."
Perhaps, Lelouch shouldn't have pissed off Fortescue. Maybe, then he would have listened.
Lelouch grimaced and listened to Alex rattle off the coordinates for the town hall far from the church. The Count was drawing them away and the knightmares began to race through the narrow streets. The reinforcements would funnel through the streets and collect in the small courtyard with the broken water fountain. Then they would race past the bar where Lelouch and his friends had relaxed. The town hall had to be a trap, but unlike the 712th, the 256th was well equipped with commanders that wouldn't knowingly send their men into traps.
The Count wouldn't be able to defeat them. Movement in the north caught his eye and he watched as a figure ducked in a narrow alleyway. The line of chimneys pointed to the encampment. The Count needed to hurt Britannia and he lost his knightmare last year.
A minor distraction would keep the army pinned down at the town hall while the Crows flocked to the minimally defended camp. Before, the Count always disappeared after his major strike and they had no reason to suspect otherwise. If Lelouch's Division regrouped and followed the Crows to flank them, they could prevent him from completing his objective. Perhaps even capture the elusive Count.
Alex shook his head. "We need to move."
OLB12599. A birthday gift from his father. With it, Lelouch could override Fortescue's orders, but at what cost? He was surrounded by his comrades who would understand that something was amiss when Lelouch rattled off his code. Not only would he be admitting to the Emperor that he needed his power to succeed, but compromise his own position within the army.
He should use it and save numerous lives.
His men trusted him and while an authorization code from the Emperor himself was uncommon... it wasn't unheard of. There would be questions and Lelouch could end the fight and save more men from the trap the Count was about to spring.
But did he need it?
His men stared at him, ready to follow any order. Lelouch did not need to become the Emperor's agent. They would do it on their own.
And maybe, Lelouch grimly hoped, Fortescue would finally meet his end in the upcoming attack.
"We're going to the clock tower. Private Chapul, Reyes, and Moore, you will climb the bell tower. I want you to capture the Crow alive. They may know what the Count has planned."
A moment of hesitation, but they saluted.
"Lelouch," Henry warned, "this is mutiny."
Lelouch stared up at him. "Will you stop me, Private Sullivan?"
His jaw shifted and he clenched shut his eyes. "If you do this, you will be charged with treason, Lelouch. Colonel Fortescue wants to hang you and this is all he needs."
"Either follow my orders, or step out of the way. I'm not allowing more people to die."
The fist whizzed by his ear and Lelouch's heart hammered. In a hand to hand fight, he would lose. His men shifted and a few stepped forward. They would rather follow Lelouch than Henry. They knew that Fortescue didn't care for their lives.
Henry growled. "You're my friend, Lelouch, but this is madness. I won't allow you to throw your life away. Stand down."
"No," Lelouch replied. "If I do nothing, I will not be able to forgive myself."
Henry lunged forward and Alex intercepted the blow, striking Henry in the chest and pushing him backwards.
Rolling on the rooftop, Alex shouted, "Lelouch go!"
Ignoring the stab of guilt, Lelouch began to break apart his men and they dispersed over the rooftops. Ten men left to trail the Crows into the nearby alleyway, five headed to the town hall to buy time before Lelouch's treachery could be discovered. Another ten ran to warn the camp of the upcoming attack.
The remainder followed Lelouch as he darted across the rooftops away from Alex and Henry's brawl to the leaning bell tower. The Count was a proud man and Lelouch was betting on him being there. Guns fired in the streets as the knightmares screeched and Lelouch could hear the civilians shouting below. A block from the church, they ran into the medics and Edgar waved hesitantly.
Lelouch looked up and watched one of his men scale the tower. Everything was going to plan. Passing Edgar, Lelouch ran to the large wooden doors. A muzzle peaked out and Lelouch dove to the side. Distant shouting echoed from within the buildings.
Two of his men crawled beneath the decorative window and opened fire.
"We surrender, we surrender," the priest shouted and pulled open the door.
Lelouch walked behind his men into the simple church and looked at the closed stairwell door.
A few Crows cowered with their hands on their head and the weapons thrown on the floor. They didn't dare to resist as Lelouch ordered their capture.
"Lelouch," Edgar admonished, "this is a church."
"So?"
He groaned and pointed at the trembling priest. "The priest offered them sanctuary. They're injured."
Lelouch scowled at the man with pristine white robes. "He is harboring terrorists. The bell tower is being used to organize the troops. They're under arrest."
Sighing, Edgar turned away and pointed at a Crow with blood pooling beneath their feet. "At least allow me to treat the injured,"
"Very well," Lelouch agreed. His friend would complain otherwise.
The closed door to the stairwell mocked him and Lelouch, wary of a trap, had his men stand at ready. The door opened. Nothing happened.
The tolls of the bells finally ceased. The team had succeeded. They dragged a snarling woman down the stairs and threw her at Lelouch's feet. His men sneered as she rose to her feet.
Lelouch's neck prickled as a small breeze passed through the broken window. "You will tell us everything you know."
She spat out a gob of blood.
"Very well," Lelouch replied, running out of patience. He had cut off the Count's communications, but the lack of resistance made him worried. The bell tower was essential to the Count's ploy. He shouldn't have left it unprotected. "A finger it is."
The soldier standing beside her did not hesitate. The finger snapped.
Lelouch swallowed the bile in his throat. York would have done the same but Lelouch didn't have time. He needed to act now.
The woman shivered as Lelouch approached and Edgar moved forward, resting a hand on his shoulder.
"Lelouch, this isn't right," Edgar hissed. "Arrest her, but this would be inhumane."
Shrugging off the offending hand, Lelouch forced a serene smile as he took a step closer. "Do you know what happens to Britannian prisoners?"
She glowered.
"It will start simple at first. They will shave your red hair and sell it to make noble wigs. Afterwards, you'll be forced into a straitjacket and you'll lie on the ground as you wait for your guards to decide what to do. It doesn't even hurt but you'll lie there unable to move no matter how hard you struggle. It sounds easy, right? Hold your silence as nothing happens and the cell becomes colder and your feet go numb and hunger gnaws at your stomach."
She flinched as he stopped before her. A faint tremor ran through her body.
Lelouch tutted. "And as time will pass, you'll wonder what they want. The guards never speak except to feed you meals which will never be enough. How many days of silence do you think you'll survive?"
"Bastard," she hissed. "I will never say anything."
"Oh, no, you misunderstand me," Lelouch mocked. "By then, any information you'll have would be worthless. You could say anything you want, but it wouldn't change your fate. It will be years before the sun warms our pale skin. That is the prison sentence for a high ranking Crow. And you had a very important job, didn't you?"
She flinched as his hand half raised. "I don't know anything."
"I'm sure," Lelouch replied and turned around. "Of course, the information you have is important now. I'm in a hurry so either you can remain silent as we break your bones and live in a haze of pain within a cold prison cell or,"—a glimmer of hope flashed through her eyes and he knew he had her—"you do your duty as a loyal Britannian citizen and face a minor charge for obstructing military personnel."
She raised her hand… and flipped him off.
The wooden door of the confessional banged. A pistol rammed into his ribs and Lelouch twisted in an attempt to dodge.
His attacker did not move and his arm snaked around Lelouch's neck, dragging him backwards. His feet struggled to find footing and Lelouch tried to ignore the gun at his side. He refused to die. Nunnally would be devastated.
Twisting his head, he caught sight of the familiar mustached face. The Count.
Shit.
"Anyone moves, I shoot," the Count warned.
Lelouch's nails dug into the Count's arm, intent on drawing blood. He couldn't win in a challenge for strength, but Lelouch would fight to the last breath.
The Count pressed his arm against his neck and Lelouch could feel the slow burn of a lack of oxygen. He had precious few minutes to find a way out of his debacle.
Yanking down on the offending arm, Lelouch lowered his chin and rasped, "You're outnumbered. Even if you kill me, there's nothing to stop my men from killing you."
"Yes, isn't it exciting?" the Count replied. "The Numbers won't risk you coming to harm. The consequences are too great."
If it had been Fortescue, everyone would have fired regardless. Only their loyalty and belief in Lelouch's ability to escape impossible situations stayed their hands. They would attack if they knew Lelouch had no chance of escaping.
Lelouch should order them to fire. They had the chance to kill the Count and end the conflict. Only, with Lelouch's death, his mother would swear vengeance and all his friends would die in the backlash.
"Intelligent of you to determine my plans. But there were no orders to attack the bell tower and you came with only a handful of men. Do you know what I think?" the Count asked.
Who had betrayed their codes?
"No," Lelouch whispered at the long pause. Black spots began to swarm his vision and he would have to act fast... but why did the Count almost sound... feminine?
"You and your men mutinied. Britannia will punish you." The Count paused and laughed as Edgar's eyes widened in horror. "Such loyal men. Your commander didn't listen to you because you're a commoner. Imagine if they had? I would be caught instead of holding your life hostage. The army is wasting your talents. The Crows can always use more intelligent minds."
The arm loosened and Lelouch gasped for breath.
If Lelouch had used his father's code, then the Count would have been caught. Instead, Lelouch had been over ambitious and took a risk. Now a gun to the ribs threatened to bring the wrath of his mother. He could accept the Count's offer in hope of backstabbing him, but the Count hadn't survived this long by being stupid. They were a noble—although a slight hint of an accent hinted that they hadn't been raised thus— and knew how Britannia operated. They probably expected him to try and trick them.
"I'm afraid our politics differ," Lelouch replied with an open ended question. The longer the Count was interested in talking, the more likely it was for Lelouch to find an opportunity.
The arm tightened again. "That won't work. But you'll have time to think upon my offer. I think it's time to go."
The soldier next to Edgar groaned and crumpled to the ground with a barely stifled scream. Edgar immediately turned and knelt down.
"Don't move!" the Count ordered.
Edgar shook his head and cut open the uniform. He threw the bloody cloth in between them. "I'm a medic. This man is going to die. So shut up!"
The Count stiffened.
Lelouch watched as Edgar moved rapidly and opened his medical kit to pull out gauze and rubbing alcohol. The panicked hands flayed and the bottle of alcohol fell to the ground again. The hands closed and opened again. The fingers trembled.
A code that Lelouch had taught during long guard hours blending into meaningless hand movements.
Fire. Duck. Left. Four.
Fire. Duck. Left. Three.
Fire. Duck. Cat? No, Edgar only needed to find a pair of tweezers. Left. Two.
Relaxing, Lelouch prepared himself to move.
Fire. Duck. Left.
Lelouch dropped his body weight and a burst of flames blinded his eyes. The Count stumbled and the arm around the neck loosened monetarily. Grabbing their thumb, Lelouch pulled and dove to his left. Leaping over the dying flames, Edgar grabbed Lelouch and pulled him out of the way.
A gunshot rang through the air and his men ducked behind the benches as they returned fire. Lelouch lay on the ground with Edgar's weight pressing down on him.
The Count groaned and glass crunched. From outside, more gun shots rattled the still air. Turning his head, Lelouch watched the red haired woman who rang the bells bleed out. Her accusing eyes met his.
The church fell silent.
Edgar groaned and rolled off Lelouch. "You okay?"
"I'm fine," Lelouch whispered, the air still stolen from his lungs. "Thank you."
"Good."
Lelouch's eyes snapped to the broken window and a dead Crow lying on the ground. The Count had escaped. "Find the Count!"
His men nodded and raced after, but the Count knew the streets well. He was already gone. With a curse, he rose to his feet. Everything had gone wrong. They were so close, but Lelouch had nothing to show for it.
"You're bleeding." Edgar's hands pressed against his side.
Lelouch looked down at his uniform and the growing red stain. He hissed at the sudden realization of pain. No longer on an adrenaline high, his sore neck took the opportunity to express its displeasure, followed by a stinging ankle, and bruised arm.
"The bullet grazed you," Edgar said as he applied pressure. "You need medical attention."
"Fortunately, you're here," Lelouch joked weakly. His friend remained silent and Lelouch glanced at his pasty face and the slow puddle of blood pooling beneath him.
Edgar met his gaze with a soft smile.
"No, no, no! You're going to be fine."
Edgar shook his head and pressed clean gauze into his hands. "Apply pressure for the next ten minutes."
"No, stop worrying about me, you idiot. Please, take care of yourself. You have to," Lelouch begged. He couldn't lose another friend. They had survived training together. Edgar was supposed to be safe. He was a medic. Medics did not get shot.
"Tell Frederick—" Edgar lay down on the ground and fumbled with his jacket, pulling out a letter. "Tell him, tell him, I'm sorry."
Rolling onto his stomach, Lelouch propped himself up on his elbows and frantically ripped the pants to look at the wound. Blood gushed over his hands and Lelouch shifted closer, applying pressure. The blood continued to seep through. "Edgar, you have to hang in there."
"Did ya know, there's an artery in your leg? Runs right from the heart and pumps so fast. Promise me..." Edgar hissed. "Everything's swaying. But—but—promise me, Lel—Tell Fred I'm sorry. I broke my promise."
No. The wound continued to bleed and Lelouch's eyes searched the glass strewn floor. There! A lighter. He had to stop the bleeding.
Edgar's hand wrapped around his wrist. "Apply pressure. I'm not letinn ya die. Pressure."
"But you—"
"No." Edgar glared. "Would needa cauterize. Not ya fault."
"Yes it is!" Lelouch fruitlessly tried to tug his hand free. Fire. He could do that. Edgar wouldn't die.
"Don't be stupid. Nothing ya coulda done." Edgar closed his eyes. "I can't feel my legs."
Lelouch froze. "No. My father's the Emperor. I'm a bloody prince. I could have done something. Anything."
Edgar opened his eyes again and chuckled weakly. "Ya father sucks, kid. Right bastard. Still, not ya fault."
Finally peeling off the stig fingers grasping his wrist, Lelouch dove for the lighter. Glass sliced through his palm. He clutched the lighter and staggered over to Edgar and his fingers fumbled to light the flames.
Lelouch pressed the flickering flame to the wound. The bleeding had slowed. Good.
His eyes swept over Edgar's frozen chest. No. His jaw hung limply. No. The skin was pearly white.
Lelouch reached out to Edgar's neck, despite already knowing what he would find. No pulse.
Dead.
No.
Chest compressions? There had to be something he could do! Anything.
There had to be a pulse.
"Edgar… Please?" Lelouch couldn't lose him. "Give me something."
A shaky breath? A weak heartbeat? A sign of life?
Nothing.
Lelouch had gambled to save lives but lost. Edgar was dead because he failed to clear the room. Not caring for who could see, he finally cried and applied pressure to his own wound.
Hours later, Alex limped to his side and stood by him in silent comfort as soldiers entered the room and carried out the body. Alex ripped off one of the dog tags and pressed it into Lelouch's hands. Two men pushed past him and lifted Edgar's still form. He was officially dead. Just another tally on a clipboard to be counted at the end of the day.
...
Lelouch absently stared at the ledger. Swallowing, he added Edgar's name and his salary to the right. The endless dead names and numbers blurred in front of him, but Lelouch continued on regardless. There would be no compensation for the dead men. Lelouch would help their families who relied on the paycheck. Later, never, he would mourn the loss of his friend.
He wrote down the next name. Discharged due to injury.
What would happen to them once Lelouch finally left? The days to his birthday were rapidly disappearing. Soon, one of his parent's agents would pull him aside and send him on the next flight to Pendragon.
Would he still be there to pay his final respects when Edgar—
And what would his friends say when they saw his face in the newspaper, declaring him as a prince? Betrayed? Confused? Angry?
They should be angry at him. His family perpetuated the cycle of abuse and pain. They gave men like Fortescue power. And Lelouch? He was a coward hiding from his name. Allowing people to die… to preserve his anonymity.
Why hadn't Edgar been angry? Betrayed? Instead… he laughed.
Someone cleared their throat behind him and Lelouch set the pen down, but didn't dare to look. He didn't want another apology. It was his fault. If Lelouch had been better, then his friend would still be alive. "Yes?"
"Lelouch," Henry said, "we need to talk."
"There's nothing to talk about. I have work to do."
Henry huffed and his heavy footsteps crunched as he walked in front of Lelouch. "You've been doing nothing but working on your list. It can wait."
"No, it cannot," Lelouch snarled. "I have to finish this."
"You're beating yourself up for nothing. When was the last time you ate?"
Crossing his arms, Lelouch shot back, "Why do you care? Edgar's dead because of me. I messed up. You were right. Leave. Me. Alone."
"No. if you're going to starve yourself, then I'll be sitting here right with you. Edgar wouldn't want you to waste away. I don't want you to waste away." Henry ran his hand through his hair and sat down on the log across from him. "First, you need to get your story straight."
"Story?"
He rolled his eyes. "Colonel Fortescue is once again asking questions because he wants to pin something on you. Unfortunately, this time, you actually did something stupid which will get you in trouble. Your men have been covering for you. But your story needs to align with theirs."
"You're willing to lie now?" Lelouch asked skeptically. "You cling to rules. You should be gloating. You were right. I was wrong. I won't let anyone take the fall for me."
"Stop being such a—" Henry cut himself off and clutched his head. "I know I shouldn't be encouraging you to break even more rules, but I didn't try to stop you because I thought you were wrong, Lelouch. Your plan made sense. I wanted to follow it, but I can't lose my friend over charges of treason. And Alex follows you too blindly."
Another failure of Lelouch's.
Henry shook his head. "But I will protect you even if it is from your own idiocy. You can hate me, but I prefer you alive."
Why did everyone put his needs above theirs? Lelouch wasn't special. He was a liar: an imposter. He didn't deserve their kindness.
"Come on, you need a break. Roy and Frederick are in the bar and even Alex said he is going to join after he finishes his duties. We're a squad and we all miss Edgar. Let us mourn him together."
Lelouch didn't reply. The letter burned in his pocket.
Grumbling, Henry grabbed the ledger and pulled Lelouch to his feet. "We're going."
They walked through the charred carcass of a town and Lelouch averted his eyes from various small memorials lining the walls. The military had cleaned all the bodies and it would take days before any would be processed and the locals could begin to identify their corpses. Of course, many bodies wouldn't. It brought too much scrutiny and York would be standing there, ready to catch any Crow idiotic enough to search for their friend's body.
With boarded up windows, the bar rested between two charred buildings but looked relatively unharmed. The owner scowled as always as they entered, but didn't say anything. Shattered picture frames hung from the wall and Lelouch noticed that not a single glass rested on the normally filled shelf.
In the corner, Frederick and Roy stared into wooden mugs. Edgar's chair waited silently for the guest that would never return.
Offering them a shaky smile, Lelouch sat down but didn't say a word. A phantom hug pressed against him and he could hear Edgar nagging him to eat.
Gingerly, he passed Edgar's letter to Frederick whose eyes widened and grabbed it reverently.
"He was always prepared," Frederick whispered and turned the letter over in his hands. "I… I haven't even written mine. I thought it would be me and I was trying to find the words… He should've been safe."
Henry shook his head and pulled the mugs away. "I'm not carrying your drunk asses home. You three are all going to eat."
Rolling his eyes, Roy asked, "Brought you here as well, Lelouch? Dragged me and Frederick here by our ears and wouldn't take no for an answer." He turned to Henry. "At least let me drink in peace."
"No," Henry replied before walking to the owner. He returned to their sad table with a pile of steaming food. "Eat."
Lelouch's stomach grumbled and curbed his instinctive protests. Maybe he was hungry? Softly, he said, "Thank you, Henry."
"Shit kid," Frederick replied. "Forgot you were there. I'm sorry you had to see that."
"My fault," Lelouch mumbled as he nibbled on a chicken wing. "If he hadn't saved me—"
"—Stopping you right there,"—Frederick chuckled weakly—"because Edgar would save anyone no matter what and especially you." Looking into the distance, he continued softly, "That's the kind of person he is—was."
Striking the table, Lelouch hissed, "But I failed to check the room. If I—"
Roy grabbed his hand. "I know it's hard, but you can say ask endless what ifs and it won't change. Edgar wouldn't want this... He would want us to move on and be happy... all of us."
Lelouch nodded. It wasn't fair to worry the other two with his problems. And Frederick had loved Edgar. What right did Lelouch have to grieve? Pushing the pain and grief and anguish aside, he dusted off his mask and put it on. He had friends to make him happy.
"Seems you got through," Henry said and sat down. "But you best take your own advice Roy."
Slowly grabbing a plate, Roy stared down at the food in disgust. "How can you be—" He waved his hand at Henry.
"Practice," Henry said gruffly. "Practice."
"Practice?"
He shrugged. "People die, but if you just sulk, then you're of no use to anyone."
The door banged open and a hunched form stomped to the bar and sat down, resting his head on the stone counter. The owner helped him slip out of his heavy winter coat and hung it by the back door. They whispered softly and Lelouch took another bite of the chicken wing. It tasted like ash.
"Is that Arthur?" Roy whispered as he took a delicate bite.
Frederick turned to Edgar's open seat and paused, his face contorting. "Maybe." He spat, "The civies were helping the Crows. Traitors the lot of them."
Remembering the chaos and even the children running in the street, Lelouch held his silence. He had no room to talk and hadn't found a way to save their lives. The town had coordinated against them which proved Britannia had failed in it's duty to the citizens. Edgar would have been helping people on both sides in the street, but that selflessness killed him.
They didn't invite Arthur to join them. He had been pleasant enough, but Roy and Frederick's eyes were hard as they bore into his back. There would be no forgiveness and simply being in the town, made Arthur complicit in their friends death.
"I'm glad you're alright. Fortescue... if he hadn't—" Or if Lelouch hadn't been a coward and used the damned code. OLB12599. Just three letters and five numbers. The troops would have followed his command and the catastrophe of defeat could have been avoided. Sure, the army had stayed in the town and the Count had been forced to quickly withdraw, but it didn't feel like a victory... or even a draw.
How could the Count consistently play them as fools?
"Aye," Frederick replied after a long pause. "Would have thought with the General dying and every other half-decent officer, Fortescue would finally run out of luck. But he's a cockroach."
Setting down his drumstick viciously and missing his plate, Roy said, "He is our superior. Lelouch, you know the rules even if you insist breaking them half the time"—Henry's knife clattered on the table—"Isn't there anything we can do? Surely, such... ineptitude is worthy of demotion."
"No," Lelouch replied. If there had been, Fortescue wouldn't have risen through the ranks in the first place.
Frederick scoffed. "Getting a promotion right now, probably. Good men dead and I saw him sipping the fine wine. Without Major General Bludwig, nobody is around to stop him now."
"I'd take the Vampire right now." Roy laughed bitterly. "At least he's honest about the men he kills."
"Knight of the Round, he may be, but no one should take that much delight in slaughtering."
Something crashed in the kitchen and their voices once again lowered.
Henry glared at the two. "Careful, the Emperor chooses his knights himself."
It spoke more on the Emperor's lack of decency—that he was willing to employ a man of Luciano Bradley's nature—than of the inherent honor of knighthood.
Continuing, Henry said, "Lelouch is enough trouble as is. No need to talk of such... unflattering things."
"Lelouch," Roy asked aghast, "you didn't? Fortescue is going to kill you."
Looking down at the wooden table and its captivating spirals, Lelouch said, "I was stupid. I know. But I'm going to take the blame."
"Remember the Drill Sergeant?" Roy asked. "He warned you. You cannot take the blame on yourself. Fortescue won't hesitate."
"Maybe I deserve it!"
They recoiled.
"Kid," Frederick whispered, looking at him with pity that Lelouch did not need.
Roy reached across the table and Lelouch shot to his feet, knocking the chair down. He needed to work on his ledger. His men and their families didn't need to suffer for his failings.
His legs trembled, plagued by fatigue.
Arthur stood up and stepped into his way. "Sorry. I couldn't help but overhear. Rough day as well?"
Baring his teeth, Lelouch said, "At least give us the courtesy to mourn in peace."
Arthur stepped back and raised his hand. "Easy there. Losing someone you love... hurts. But don't take it out on me."
He had been one of the few people in the town to treat them with courtesy while the other locals sneered. Who had listened to their jokes as they dared to relax while knowing the Count's plan? Which of the familiar faces joined the Cows and civilians in the street to provide cover for the frantic army?
"It's not his fault," Henry interrupted and a heavy hand settled on Lelouch's shoulder "Come on, sit. You're not leaving until you stop looking like a walking corpse."
Lelouch let himself be pulled back down to his seat. Arthur followed, sitting in the empty chair and ignoring their flinches.
"My friend," Arthur began, "he died in the fight. Wasn't doing anything, but staying in his room. But the house caught on fire. He wouldn't have been able to leave on time, especially not into that chaos."
Slouching, Lelouch tried not to think of the initial mortar strike which began the blaze or the second explosion that rocked the town and swept through houses with a fiery inferno. Arthur had lost people too.
How many ignorant souls had stayed in their houses, cowering as bullets tore through their windows, and fire licked at their walls, and smoke stifled their lungs?
"I'm sorry," Lelouch whispered. "We tried."
Arthur's eyes tightened and the smile was a tad too sharp. "I know. If it hadn't been for the Count, the Emperor would have protected all of us."
The room blurred slightly and Lelouch's stomach growled again. He really should eat. Edgar would never forgive him if he failed to take care of himself. Blood loss was said to addle the mind and Lelouch's emotions were an uncontrollable mess.
He bit into the food and swallowed. It's what Edgar would have wanted.
The dizziness didn't abate.
Frederick pushed away his plate and Henry dug in.
Leaning across the table, Roy stole back his mug of beer and raised it. "To a good man and an even better friend."
Henry lifted his mug of water and pushed back the stolen mug. "Edgar. Your loyalty will be missed." Then slyly, he added, "Don't worry, I'll make sure Lelouch doesn't get in too much trouble."
"Hey," Lelouch protested, "I don't go looking for it."
"You know," Frederick mused as he set down his mug, "Edgar always thought you had pissed off someone in your past life. He was this close to asking other folks for charms to ward off your bad luck."
Roy laughed. "He has plenty of good luck. I think someone cursed him to live in interesting times." Tilting his head, he peered at Lelouch. "Did your father ever deny an old lady hospitality?"
"To my knowledge," Lelouch said, "My father does not consort with witches." For if they existed, the Emperor would most definitely have been cursed long before.
Roy hummed. "You do find yourself in the most interesting situations. It's like you have a quota."
Lelouch's face burned.
Beside him, Henry said, "Well, meeting the Count again should fill that quota."
Arthur coughed. "You met the Count!"
"Tried to shoot me,'" Lelouch said and wished for the subject to change.
Frederick groaned. "And here we were chasing every mustached old man Forstecue thought was the Count."
Imitating Fortescue's eastern noble accent, Lelouch said, "From this day forth, all mustaches are hereby banned for bearing the Count's likeness. With this edict, the Count shall be defeated."
The group laughed and quickly fell silent as they realized Arthur was beside them. He grinned. "That's a good accent kid. Sounds like a real noble there."
"Lelouch's a deft hand at them," Roy replied and his words were beginning to slur. "Can make a fool think he's an officer. I never get the annunciation quite right."
Lelouch shook his head and winced as the room began to sway. "You keep trying to speak like a westerner."
Roy's smile suddenly slipped and he stumbled to his feet. "Something's wrong... I don't—don't feel good."
Whipping his head around, Lelouch stared at the empty bar with wobbling lines. A body thudded to the ground and Lelouch reached for his pistol as he sprung to his feet and immediately collapsed to the floor: poison.
Frederick breathed shallowly on the ground across from him and Lelouch watched the owner's feet pass by. Pulling his gun free, he heard Henry's chair scrape against the ground and shouts echoed distantly.
The gun trembled in his weak hand.
Henry crashed into the floor and swept out his leg, catching the owner by his knees. He too fell down on the ground and Henry jumped to his feet, only to fall moments after with a thud. He groaned and Lelouch could see a bruise already forming around his eyes.
Confused, Lelouch forced himself upright. Next to him, the owner staggered to his feet and kicked a groaning Henry in the side.
A hand ripped the gun out of his hands and pulled him to his feet. Arthur leered across from him, before slamming Lelouch down on the table and pinning his arms behind his back. A cold gun pressed into his side.
"Get me some rope," Arthur ordered.
"I thought we were killing the scum."
"You can dispose of the rest, but the Count will want to see this one."
No. Lelouch would not see more of his friends die, but the weight on his back made it impossible to move.
"Can't you just shoot them?"
Arthur laughed coldly. "And bring the rest of the army running? We make 'em disappear and they'll think it's desertion."
The owner grumbled, but with one final kick at the limp bodies on the ground, he walked away. Lelouch winced as Arthur pulled him backwards and the situation was eerily reminiscent of the one with the Count. But this time, Lelouch wasn't faced with a towering captor.
He threw himself backwards, his head striking the back of Arthur's sharp chin. For a brief moment, Lelouch felt his stomach rise as he hung in the air and the air was forcibly expelled out of his lungs. He stared at the ceiling.
Two Henrys rose from the ground and darted forward to help. Lelouch opened his mouth, but he couldn't breathe, and the warning died on his tongue as the dual owners returned and each tackled a Henry.
"I hate this bastard, always drinking water." The blurry form rose. "You alright?"
"Just give me the rope." Arthur pushed Lelouch off him and tied his hands with a coarse rope. "Thought he'd already be out. You've got things on your end."
"None of them were eating much," the owner replied as his hazy form settled into one image. "He's not going anywhere." He grabbed Henry's leg. "Help me with him before he wakes up again. Built like a tank."
No. Lelouch grit his teeth together. His muscles burned and the room swayed. Arthur trudged over to Henry and grabbed him by the armpits.
"Damn, he's heavy."
The body lifted in the air and Lelouch drew in his knees. Why was it so hard to stand up with hands tied behind his back? He needed to kneel first. Lelouch sat up.
Arthur turned. "You have to be kidding me. You're tiny, how do you even have the energy to move?"
Lelouch didn't bother to reply and glared at Arthur as he defiantly brought a knee up and clambered to his feet. His two foes stared at him in amusement as he charged in a swerving line.
Dropping the body, Arthur's legs swept out. Lelouch struck the ground and his head rattled.
"Give up. You're only making it harder on yourself. You can't win and while I'm bringing you to the count alive,"—knee pressed down on his back—"it doesn't matter what condition you are in. So spare yourself the pain. Alright?"
"I won't let you kill them," Lelouch hissed.
"Really?" Arthur asked. "And what are you going to do without a weapon, tied up, and drugged?
"I'll figure it out," Lelouch spat and his eyes teared as the knee pressed into his kidney
The door jingled and Lelouch was pulled to his feet while the owner stood up.
"Just drunk," the owner called out, "we're taking them outside to sleep it off."
Lelouch blinked at the short bleary form: Alex. Alex who had promised to come later. Alex who could save them.
Sure enough, he drew his gun. "Step away."
"There's no need for that, they're drunk."
Alex didn't hesitate; the gun fired. The owner collapsed.
"Hands up where I can see them and step away."
Arthur tightened his hold around Lelouch and the cold gun once again pressed into his side. "You're going to turn around and leave."
"I'm warning you." Alex stepped forward.
They stepped back. "I will shoot him."
"I'm not letting a terrorist walk free," Alex replied and if Lelouch didn't know him, he would have thought Alex was completely willing to let him die.
"Then shoot." Arthur chuckled. "You have no trouble killing innocents before. The life of a comrade in exchange for capturing or killing me. An easy trade and nothing compared to what you have done. But if I must die, I can at least rid the Count of an annoying pest."
Pest. Not royal or noble, but simply pest. Why was Lelouch suddenly important? Or was it because the Count, as they previously said, wanted to use Lelouch. But that implied that Arthur was close enough to the Count to know.
Flicking his eyes to his downed friends, Lelouch rasped, "Save them."
And Alex who always followed him and would never go against his wishes, snarled, "Go."
Arthur stepped back, dragging Lelouch's limp form behind. Then another step. And another. Closer and closer to the back door where Lelouch would be at his mercy.
They passed underneath the mounted bear head and Lelouch knew the backdoor was just behind them. Possibly, he would find an opportunity to escape, but Lelouch had proven himself to be unruly already. Arthur and the Count would be careful and Lelouch didn't have time. He was a prince and his parents would avenge his absence.
A phone call took minutes; a letter weeks; and the official report about a month. Would York inform his mother of his kidnapping or would he instead put his affairs in order and wait? Of course, who knew what resources his father had deployed. Perhaps none or maybe another OSI agent watching from afar. Lelouch had no way of knowing and if he wanted to save his friends from his mother's fury, he would need to escape as soon as possible.
Playing nice and luring them into a fall sense of security was not an option.
Slowly, he drew in a breath as to not alert Arthur of his intentions. He would have moments before Arthur finally covered his mouth. What was essential?
He shouted, "The Count wants me! They sent—"
Arthur's hands slammed over his mouth and he could taste bitter sweat.
The door closed painfully slow as Alex threw caution to the side and raced towards them.
Dropping Lelouch, Arthur grabbed an axe leaning against the wall and jammed the door. It rattled, but held.
Lelouch fought past through the haze. His rapid heart pushing the sedative through his blood. The wall provided support for Lelouch to slide up. His head pounded and the hazy black dots swirled in his vision.
"I'm half curious to see how far you will run before you collapse from exhaustion," Arthur said as his hand clamped down on Lelouch's shoulder, "but you'd probably escape on sheer willpower."
"Why?" Lelouch turned and stared at his captor as they walked outside. He had lied for months on ends to his friends as he entertained them in the bar. "We never did anything?"
Angry, Arthur pushed him down on the ground and opened the trunk of his car.
As the trunk began to close, he finally replied, "Soldiers looted Oliver's house. They murdered him in cold blood. He was loyal. Didn't want anything to do with the Count despite Britannia spitting on him every moment it got. and—" he laughed and it was dark and broken without a hint of humanity—"you killed him for it."
Worldbuilding Thoughts:
-What is the drinking age in Britannia? I'm inclined to have it be something specific to each Area. There's also the question whether the consumption and/or purchase of alcohol is illegal underage.
-The safety of combat/field medics depends on the countries involved. Generally, medics are not on the front lines, but in certain conflicts they were targeted on purpose. As this is never addressed in the anime, I'm having Britannia have a general policy of not firing on medics.
-Britannia does have laws concerning the rules of engagement and what is appropriate in combat. For example, a soldier isn't supposed to deliberately kill another solder within the army as it is perceived as a slight against the Emperor. Unfortunately, there is a difference between what is legal and what is enforced. The 712th division is considered expendable and Fortescue has enough influence to avoid trouble and instead gain a promotion.
Author's Note:
Sorry, but not sorry?
See you next week. (Or via discord: discord (period) gg (slash)uSBegVj)
Thank you x1tears1X and Spaded Ace18 on FFN for your help with betaing.