Chapter 16: Nunnally

Busy week.

College graduate though I was, Father had insisted that I attend Ashford during my tenure at the Jetalot Project. Maybe guilt played a role. It's nice to give your daughter a normal social life before you destroy the world.

I ran a little in track club—just enough to get first place, leaning on my superior genes like a crutch. I'd avoided the drama club students, my music instructor, the computer club…especially the computer club. I knew the MAGI well enough. Oh, and I'd ignored that cute guy who sat in front of me in math class. He had the sort of deep purple eyes that you could lose yourself in. Too bad he killed people for my uncle. I still talked to my "friends" once in a while, and they didn't notice the difference. I think.

No…These days, my after-school activities revolved around palace revolutions.

"That's…crazy," Suzaku said.

Euphie's face became strained. She leaned toward Suzaku; not aggressively, exactly. Stress plus determination plus insomnia.

Well done, Euphie, a part of me mused. Within limits, anyway. Suzaku might respond to desperation from a lover…

Another part of me felt ill at that thought.

"Nunnally's predicted the entire war so far," Euphie said. "How can you explain that?"

"I can't, but—"

"We've already talked for an hour about this," Euphemia said. "You've seen the evidence. We even showed you the files—"

Suzaku's jaw tightened while the rest of his muscles relaxed. He sat up straighter. His 'duty' pose. Their eyes met, and I knew what he was going to say before he said it.

"I need more time, Euphie."

"But—"

"I pledged to serve Britannia," he said. "I'm sorry to point this out, but—"

He dipped his head toward us.

"—with all respect to Your Majesties, this could be a plot from one or more of you."

His voice was level-calm to the point of smugness. I'd expected that, too.

"She's my sister!" Euphie said.

Too shrill, I thought. Sounds emotional. Irrational. Gives Suzaku an excuse to delay.

I took a breath and put my hand on my sister's shoulder.

"Please wait in the other room, Euphie."

"I…huh? What?"

That suspicious look again. This time, I ignored it much more quickly.

"We won't do anything to him," I said.

Euphie's eyes widened for a split second, and then narrowed. Schneizel looked from Euphie to me as if he was playing poker. His bangs and eyelids almost concealed the gesture. Almost.

"No," Euphie said. "I didn't think you would..."

Gossamer fabric brushed against the door as she opened it. It slammed. Suzaku crossed his fingers on the table. I waited until I couldn't hear Euphemia's footsteps anymore.

"You stabbed your father to death," I said.

Suzaku's jaw nearly hit the floor. Schneizel didn't miss a beat—Pinkerton Branch knew as much already, and Schneizel had probably planned a blackmail scheme and just assumed that I'd started early. Not quite.

"How…?" Suzaku said.

"I heard your thoughts when you killed him," I said. "I can recite it in order if you like."

His hands were shaking.

"It started with, 'He's going to hit me'," I said. "And then the realization that he was dead…"

No answer.

"I suppose that I could have figured that out without Instrumentality," I said. "But then again…"

I leaned next to his ear and whispered his thoughts in the hours after his father's death, complete with his own rationalizations. I recited what he'd told himself days afterward when his father's former colleagues thanked him. I described the time he'd almost told Kaguya, but couldn't work up the nerve.

When I'd finished, his arms had gone limp, and he half-slumped across the table.

"I'm sorry," I said.

Silence.

"It's your choice, Suzaku," I said. "If you don't pilot Jetalot, I'll do it myself."

He looked up.

"You are insane."

"My mother was the highest-scoring ace in Britannian history," I said. "I piloted knightmare frames before I could walk."

"Jetalot isn't a knightmare."

"True enough," I said. "But I have your memories as well."

A pause. Suzaku readjusted in his seat.

"I—There's no need," he said. "I'll pilot."

I rubbed his shoulder. The mahogany tabletop reflected my fake smile back at me—subtle, just a hint, not too broad—while I heard my voice become soothing.

"Good," I said. "Should we call Euphie back, or do you need a minute?"

Give the target irrelevant choices after the job's done, the voice said. Ve-rry good.

"Fine…S'fine now," Suzaku said. "Okay. Send her—get—ask her to come in."


My lecture followed. Schneizel interrupted a few minutes in; he raised his left hand while he puffed on a cheroot with his right. Gray ash fell on his glove. Nasty habit—Cornelia says that he picked it up in Southeast Asia.

Sorry…I should have used past tense. Cornelia said.

I sighed.

"You have a question, Schneizel?"

"Why China?" he said. "This just distracts us from our own coup plans."

"Lorenz and Father share control of the eunuchs," I said. "If Xingke puts the Empress in charge, it weakens SEELE and Britannia simultaneously."

Euphie had crossed her arms over the table, and was resting her chin on them in a makeshift pillow. She peeked over her shirtsleeve.

"And it strengthens Gendo," she muttered. "We're going in circles."

"No," I said. "It weakens Gendo. We're dealing with a three-way game here: Father and Lorenz want Instrumentality, Gendo wants godhood for himself, and none of them trusts the others."

Suzaku shrugged.

"Same difference. The world ends either way."

"No," I snapped. "It does not end either way. If SEELE wins, we can do this all over again until we get it right. If Gendo wins, it's game over. Humanity disappears permanently."

Schneizel tilted his head infinitesimally to the left and looked at me. I felt like a bug under a microscope.

"…Anyway," I said. "Once Xingke consolidates Tianzi's position, we've introduced a wild card and a possible ally. Gendo will become the prime suspect behind Xingke's coup."

A low chuckle from Schneizel. He understood. Euphie might have too, although she didn't comment. Suzaku scratched his chin.

"I don't see how—" he began.

"We'll use the Black Knights," I said. "Suzaku, that's where you come in…"


After my sister and her knight had filed out, I sank into my chair and poured myself a glass of brandy. Too sweet; I puckered my lips. When the tension didn't drain away, I tried clenching and unclenching my fists. No luck there, either.

Smoke still wafted from behind Schneizel's chair.

"You're a bit young for brandy, little sister."

I took another sip. It didn't go down well, but I managed.

"And you're a smoker," I said. "Hardly a princely habit."

Schneizel smiled and leaned back in his seat. He unbuttoned his robe, revealing a black suit, black pants, and a tie that he promptly loosened. His legs crossed over the coffee table, and I noticed leather shoes. They squeaked.

"You already know all my bad habits from Instrumentality, n'est-ce pas?" he said. "So why hide them from you?"

"Fair enough."

He tapped his cheroot. A dab of ash fell on the floor.

"How much has Lelouch figured out?" he said.

"Not sure," I said. "In the original timeline, Lelouch would have encountered Mao about now."

"The telepath?"

"Yes."

He nodded. Another flick of ash.

"And then?" he said.

"There's no guarantee that he gets past Mao," I said.

Puff.

Puff.

"Humor me."

"Okay," I said. "If he's the same Lelouch that I remember, he's already taken advantage of C.C.'s amnesia."

"As in…?"

"Her computer has safeguards," I said. "Retina scan, fingerprints, voice identification, AT field detection—"

"So he'll order her to unlock it," he said. "What then?"

"He'll find a file called 'Cod. Vat. Lat. 900X'."

Schneizel's eyebrow rose.

"A Vatican document?" he said. "Will he know what it means?"

"No," I said, "but Section XIII in Rome has some of Kircher's files from before he disappeared."

Schneizel's eyebrow quirked slightly higher, and his fake smile dropped.

"They'll help him?" he said.

"Bishop Maxwell owes Lelouch a favor," I said. "Long story."

"How—"

"Trust me: you don't want to know."

Schneizel took that as a cue to get up. He gave me another pearly smile and bowed.

"Right then," he said. "Another stimulating visit, but I'm afraid all good things must end…"

I caught his sleeve. My fingers touched the inside hem, where the coarser material of his jacket rubbed against the silk robe. He stopped.

"I meant what I said, Schneizel."

"What?"

"If this fails, you can try again. Lloyd—my timeline's Lloyd—thought that you could protect yourselves from the effects of an anti-AT field within a limited area. I'm building the machine now."

"You didn't say 'we'," he said.

"No," I said. "I didn't."

I exhaled.

"Schneizel, I'm not going through Instrumentality a second time."

"No?"

"No," I said. "If we fail, I've made…arrangements."

My brother didn't say anything for a while; just looked at the ceiling. At last, he 'hmm'ed' in acknowledgement and managed a second, curt bow. A few steps—they seemed a little slow, their rhythm a little off. He paused at the door as if he'd forgotten something, but didn't look back.

"Don't tell Euphie," I said.

Schneizel's fingers drummed on the door.

"I won't," he said.

And then he walked out.