Chapter 68
The Temperance of Dignity
It was a remarkably pleasant day, with the sun shining brightly down upon the city but temperatures still well below the threshold that would have made standing outside for long stretches intolerable. Perhaps it was the universe's way of offering its own condolences, as the hearse was escorted down the road. Draped upon the coffin was the imperial flag, as well as countless pink roses that had been set before the coffin when Euphemia laid in state. A contingent of Princess Cornelia and Empress Victoria's guards flanked the hearse, while armsmen of His Majesty's Rounds gripped the handles pulling it along. Before them marched a contingent of the Virginian provincial regiment. Trailing after were several members of the imperial family itself. Empress Victoria was at the lead, with Crown Prince Odysseus following. Next came Prince Adonis, then Princess Marrybell. And last, still wearing his vestments as cardinal, was Lelouch Lamperouge. None others walked the procession, though certainly not from lack of desire. There had been considerable agitation by various members of the family to participate in this part of the funeral. Security considerations however limited each of the imperial households to a singular representative, and the guards would have really preferred Odysseus not be the one from his. The crown prince however was adamant in taking part, just as he had for Clovis the previous year.
It was the second time in as many years that Pendragon placed host to a funeral for an imperial scion. Whereas there had been a greater sense of ambivalence by the general public towards the procession for Clovis, this time the streets were absolutely packed by crowds seeking to bid farewell to whom many had taken to calling the Pink Princess. Of the emperor's many children, Euphemia's future had seemed especially bright, even hopeful, even in comparison to the achievements of certain older siblings. To have it so brutally cut short, and in the service of the very duty the imperial family was supposed to espouse, the entire empire mourned the tragedy. Mourners aplenty also clutched or had adorning their clothes more roses, colored to match the empire's lost daughter.
The massive cathedral that the procession arrived at carried plenty of symbolism as well. It was this very building that had granted sanctuary to Victoria and the other nobles families when Charles initiated his coup against his grandfather. The ensuing battle saw the severe damage inflicted upon the massive gothic structure, damage that took well over a decade to make good. Now, its walls would offer a final shelter to one of Victoria's own, years, if not decades before the empress herself. Awaiting the procession was more of the imperial family, including Charles himself. Again, not all were present, as designated survivor protocols dictated that at least one of the blood needed to remain safely ensconced somewhere else. As the second eldest of the emperor's children and Odysseus' younger full sister, Guinevere accepted the necessity of the duty, but made sure to put in an appearance in all other possible manners as if feeling a need to make up for this singular absence. Let it not be said that the Britannian imperial family did not cherish its own.
At the entrance, Lelouch separated from the rest of the family and took a place amongst the waiting clergy. The cardinal had requested, and the grandmaster seen fit to approve, to conduct the formal service for the funeral in his capacity as an ordained cardinal of the Order. It was arguably Lelouch's first showing in a public ceremony, he had conducted a few private ones as part of his ordination training, and like all tasks the cardinal set himself Lelouch had dedicated his efforts with zeal in preparation.
"I am the resurrection and the life, sayeth the Lord," the cardinal intoned. "She that believeth in me, though she parted from this mortal coil, yet shall she live, and whosoever live and believeth in me shall never truly perish."
Though Eden Vital retained significant amounts of Latin in its liturgical traditions, indeed Latin was a required subject of study for anyone wishing to be ordained, for most ceremonies and rituals it employed English translations of the classical prayers, though peppered with variants more in common with those of the 15th century when it supported the schism between the Roman Catholic Church and the English royal family.
"I know that my Redeemer liveth," Lelouch continued, "and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth. And though after my form hath been rotted; yet in my flesh shall I see God; whom I shall see for myself and mine eyes shall behold, and not another. We who brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we carry nothing out. The Lord giveth, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord."
The pallbearers stepped into the church, with Marika stoically in the foremost right position. Song rose in solemn accord as the coffin as the procession inched its way towards the front of the aisles. The entire cathedral was filled with mourners from not just the various noble houses and prominent members of state, but also representatives only recently given cause to appreciate and thereby mourn the imperial family. Donning a formal black western dress, Kaguya bore a stoic expression as she watched the coffin bearing the girl that had saved her own life pass. The Japanese girl had insisted, even pleaded, to be here for this, despite her second near brush with death. Twice now her own fellow Japanese had attempted to take her life on account of her chosen allegiances. And twice now members of this very family had risked their lives, now even laid it down, in her defense. Kaguya was not naïve enough to think their actions were entirely selfless. Well, Euphemia might well have been. And as all too happened with such selflessness, she was martyred for it. But even with Lelouch, the cardinal had been entirely earnest in seeking to protect her. For that, and now this, Kaguya felt a debt weighing upon her, one she was determined to see repaid.
The coffin was set gently down and the pallbearers stepped back. Those that followed after filtered to their appropriate seats. Once everyone was settled, Schneizel rose from his own chair at the front of the cathedral and took the podium. While Lelouch might be the officiating priest, not all of the verses or prayers were his to speak this day. As the representative of the crown invested by Eden Vital in both his capacity as prince and prime minister, Schneizel met every conceivable qualification to carry out that task.
"Lord, thou hast been our refuge from one generation to another. Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever the earth and the world were made. Thou art God from everlasting and world without end. Thou turnest man to destruction and sayest, return, ye children of men. For a thousand years in thy sight are but as yesterday seeing that is past as a watch in the night."
For those not raised in the Christian tradition, and indeed even for many that were, such words tended to be dense and opaque, not least due to the archaic phrasing. That was perhaps why during regular sermons, while priests might quote from the bible, they would elaborate and expound in plainer words the meanings the original texts were meant to impart.
"As soon as thou scattered them, they are even as a sleep and fade away suddenly like the grass. In the morning it is green and groweth up, but in the evening it is cut down, dried up, and withered. For we art consumed away in thy displeasure, and are afraid at thy wrathful indignation. Thou hast set our misdeeds before thee, and our secret sins in the light of thy countenance. For when thou art angry, all our days are gone. We bring our years to an end, as it were a tale that is told."
Psalm 90 was no exception to this, what with the way it opened and only gradually arrived at the lesson at its heart. Even if the hints of God's wrath carried a more ominous tone to that opening. But then, one might be hard pressed to come up with a way to emphasize God's supremacy without such undertones. Power was in its own way innately frightening.
"The days of our age are three score years and ten."
Of which the young woman they were here to honor fell so tragically short.
"And though humans be so strong that they come to four score years, yet is their strength then but labor and sorrow, so soon passeth it away, and we are gone. But who regardeth the power of thy wrath, for even thereafter as a man feareth, so is thy displeasure. So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts to wisdom."
Finally, the crux of the lesson.
"Turn thee again, O Lord, at the last, and be gracious unto thy servants. Satisfy us with thy mercy, and that soon, so shall we rejoice and be glad all the days of our life."
To not waste one's days, one's life, in frivolity or sloth.
"Comfort us again now after the time that thou hast plagued us and for the years wherein we have suffered adversity. Show thy servants thy work, and their children thy glory. And the glorious majesty of the Lord our God be upon us. Prosper thou the work of our hands upon us, o prosper thou our handywork."
Live, for the sake of not just oneself, but others as well. And in so doing, become worthy of the mercy of God. For while God's power could be demonstrated by wrath, so too could it be by mercy and compassion. In that regard, it was a standard that Euphemia had met.
"Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end, Amen."
"Amen," the entire chamber echoed.
Music rang anew and swelled, as the voices of the attendees joined once more in a unified harmony. It hardly mattered whether one could carry a proper tune or not, when so many sang together, the unity would ensure the purity of their song. And as that song progressed, heavy hearts weighed as the coffin was secured for being lowered down through the floor. Upon the final note, another hushed silence fell upon the cathedral.
"Child that is born from a woman hath but a short time to live," Lelouch once more spoke, "and is full of misery. She cometh up, and is cut down, like a flower."
It was almost painful how on point those words were, even beyond the poetic allusions the verse was intended to provide.
"She flees as if were a shadow, and never continueth in one day. In the midst of life we are in death. Of whom may we seek succor, but of thee, O Lord, for who our sins art justly displeased? Yet, O Lord God most holy, O Lord most mighty, O holy and most merciful Savior, deliver us not into the bitter pains of eternal death. Thou knowest, Lord, the secrets of our hearts, shut not thy merciful ears to our prayers, but spare us, Lord most holy, O God most mighty, O holy and merciful Savior, thou most worthy Judge eternal, suffer us not, at our last hour for any pains of death, to fall from thee."
With a click, the coffin began lowering down. In the aisles, those watching felt a painful stirring within them, as the finality of this act caught up to them. Standing in the front row, tears streaked down Victoria's face as a mother witnessed the far too early departure of her dear daughter. In this she was not alone, as those others that would claim Euphemia as a daughter were at her side. And all those brothers and sisters that remained, today marked yet another time they could recall this need to bade farewell to one of their own. How many more? None, was the prayer, was the hope.
"Forasmuch as it hath pleased Almighty God of his great mercy to take unto himself the soul of our dear sister," Lelouch paused a moment on that word before soldering onward, "here departed, we therefore commit her body to the ground. Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. In sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life, through our Lord Jesus Christ, who shall change our mortal body, that it may be like unto his glorious body, according to the might working, whereby he is able to subdue all things to himself."
All this, Lelouch had recited from memory, so there was no visible signal when he completed a part. But those others of the cloth taking part this day knew their own parts just as well, so the soft voices of the sisters behind him rose into song once more.
"I heard a voice from heaven, saying unto me," Lucretia began.
"Write, from henceforth blessed are the dead," Sancia followed, "which die in the Lord."
"Even so, faith the Spirit, for they rest from their labors," Oldrin finished.
"Lord, have mercy upon us," Lelouch spoke anew. "Our Father, which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy Name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done in earth, as in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us."
There was a distinct lack thereof in the cardinal's voice even as he uttered those words.
"And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. By the grace of our Lord, and the love of God, and the fellowship of the holy spirit, be with us evermore. Amen."
When all was said and done, the Japanese Liberation Front had suffered close to thirty percent casualties, with almost half that fatalities. Total losses were arguably on the lower bound of Eden Vital's projections, though deaths touched the upper bound, a testament to how fierce the fighting got before the Chinese were forced to capitulate. Thankfully the local hospitals had been well stocked in expectation of the invasion and the Britannian military's supreme competency when it came to combat medical evacuation meant most that made it to a rear area hospital did survive, even amongst the JLF soldiers. Still, for those that did not, and those that fell on the battlefield proper, arrangements needed to be made to send them on. This was far from a straightforward task, as most of the JLF members had had only limited contact with their families, those that still had them. Quickly finding family members that could or would handle the final rites for those fallen soldiers, or finding them at all, was proving a challenge. It was a challenge further compounded by all some of those very family members were involved in resistance cells of their own, including those that fought in Tokyo.
In the case of some such members, mercifully the complications came not from their also being deceased, but simply the sheer scale of the cleanup also happening in the Japanese capital. In addition to the dead and wounded, the fighting had also trashed several of the outer wards, not to mention the massive bomb the Empire had dropped to wipe out the Blood of the Samurai. The city's hospitals were even better stocked and prepared than the ones in Kyushu, so at least in that regard the wounded were being very carefully looked after. That same care however meant some of those survivors were in no position to be discharged to go look after the affairs of their family members in Kyushu, at least not quickly enough in accordance with the traditional rites.
In the case of one Miho Nishizumi, the woman was fortunate that she had others to fall back on to handle the final affairs for her sister. That did not stop Miho from rushing back to her ancestral home in Kumamoto after making sure all of her Oarai comrades, like Mako, would be okay. For most people, with martial law having been imposed in both her departure point and intended destination, making the trek would have been considerably more difficult. For Miho, it seemed the Empire, or Eden Vital at least, was genuine about its gratitude towards her, and so ferried her over to Kyushu in one of its VTOL shuttles. When she arrived, Miho was even greeted by saluting soldiers.
"Colonel Chouno, welcome back," a woman wearing the fatigues of the old Japanese Army greeted. "And, Captain Nishizumi, it is an honor to meet you."
Miho gave a wry smile as she returned the motion. "I was only commissioned as a second lieutenant." The woman glanced at the other's insignia. "Captain Chiba."
"Perhaps so, but the command you held in Tokyo certainly warrants the promotion to such a grade."
"At least," Ami added to Miho's side.
Miho offered no further protests, even as she still felt a bit awkward having such a rank foisted upon her. Then again, duty was often given to those that did not ask for it, perhaps because so many times they were the best to shoulder it.
"Please, this way," Nagisa said. "We have cars waiting to take you to your respective destinations."
Ami gave a nod. "Well, looks like this is where we part ways, at least for now, Nishizumi-san. It was good to see you again."
Miho returned the motion. "You as well, Chouno-senpai."
Another adherent of the Nishizumi school of swordsmanship, was Lieutenant-Colonel Chouno. Miho even had faint memories of the woman training at the Nishizumi dojo, here in this city. Quite a few of the dojo's students ended up serving in the armed forces, with the Nishizumi daughters themselves no exception. Tragically, that also meant a disproportionate number of those students ended up falling in battle, with again members of the family itself no exception. And as the last remaining member of the main branch, Miho intended to do her best to honor that family and its traditions, in memory of her sister at the very least.
The ride back to her family estate began in relative silence, for which Miho was thankful for. Coming home after this long, and for such an occasion, her mind felt like a complete muddle. So many years she had not had any word from her sister, though the lack of an official death notice always led Miho to suspect that Maho was in hiding with other Japanese Army survivors. While Miho understood why her sister never tried to get in touch, it still pained her that the last words they ever exchanged were from right before the Empire invaded all those years ago. What had Maho been up in the intervening time? How well had she endured the inevitable hardships? Likely better than Miho herself would have, the woman mused wryly. Her sister was always the stronger one, whether it be on the dojo floor or in the field.
"Nishizumi-san?"
Maho looked at the other woman. Nagisa's lips thinned before she pressed on with determination.
"I want you to know, your sister did think of you often. Whenever we received news from Tokyo, she would always pay extra attention to see if there was mention of the group you were working with."
Miho blinked, then smiled warmly.
"Thank you, Chiba-san." She took a deep breath. "I wish I could have gotten news on her as well."
Nagisa nodded in understanding. Everyone in the Japanese Liberation Front had been forced to make sacrifices when it came to family for the sake of operational security. Due to the JLF's position as the seniormost resistance organization, combined with the connections afforded by Kyoto House's sponsorship, it was able to at least pick up bits and pieces about other cells across the islands. The Alright cell in Tokyo, while tapped into most of the other cells in the local metropolitan area and having connections back to the Oarai region, simply did not have the reach or standing to be read in on JLF related matters, at least not to the level of detail that would have allowed the two sisters to get in touch. Still, a part of Miho liked to think that in their mutual struggle, the two of them had walked the same path, in spirit at least.
The light utility vehicle rolled to a halt in front. Taking a deep breath, Miho steeled herself and hopped out of the vehicle. While she tried to make it back on certain important days in the year, it would still have been a few months since she last set foot in her childhood home. Still, those that remained always eagerly awaited her return, and just like in the past the main gate opened before she needed to even ring the intercom.
"Miho-sama," Kikuyo greeted with a bow. "Welcome home."
Miho smiled and gave a nod. "It is good to be back, Kikuyo-san."
"There are several guests here, but would you like some time to rest before greeting them?"
Miho stiffened slightly but after a moment gave a shake of her head.
"No, that will be alright. I will see to them, as the lady of the house."
To that Kikuyo gave her own nod. "As you say, milady."
And did an about face to lead her mistress towards the main sitting room. The brief walk over gave Miho barely any time to dwell on present circumstances, not that she really needed to anymore. Near on seven years she had been obliged to serve as the head of the Nishizumi family, however reluctantly, so she was used to the motions at this point, even if the occasions to go through them came sparingly enough. And while Miho doubted she would ever consider the etiquette drilling her mother had put her through as a child fun, she could appreciate its utility now as an adult herself. Though if she ever did have children, she would probably try to be less stern in her own instruction.
Such thoughts were chased away by the sight of all the shoes in the entryway. As such the numbers were not much of a surprise when Miho stepped into the sitting area, though some of the faces still were.
"Tohdoh-senpai," Miho greeted the tall, stern looking man before her gaze shifted to another. "Erika-san." Then another. She blinked at the sight of the Britannian officer. "I don't believe we've met before."
The man raised his hand in salute, one that was bandaged at that, and Miho returned the motion.
"Lieutenant Kevin Schultz," the man said. "Your sister saved my life during the Chinese push south of Fukuoka, and I failed to return the favor. The only thing I can do now is to pay her proper respects."
Miho's eyes widened as she gave the Britannian officer a longer look over. The man bore quite a few scars in addition to his bandages, marking the closeness with which he had skirted death. Miho did not doubt that he was being quite literal in saying her sister had indeed saved his life, and also on that other bit.
"You were there when she, fell?" Miho asked.
Kevin grimaced but gave a firm nod. "My platoon was accompanying her on our retreat south from Fukuoka. We were ambushed by a massive Chinese force and Captain Nishizumi and her knightmares fought a delaying action to try to let my boys and girls and her own wounded escape. We tried to help keep her own path of retreat clear, but got hit by more of the bastards. I lost consciousness after my IFV got hit, but when I woke up." The man took a deep breath. "When I woke up, I saw Captain Nishizumi's knightmare, surrounded by all of the enemies she'd taken with her. And she'd held them long enough for backup to show, to pull the rest of us out, to get all their bodies out."
And thus by some miracle provided Miho something of her sister to bury. Miho took a deep breath of her own.
"Thank you, Lieutenant, for having fought by her side until the end."
The soldier dipped his head. "It was my honor, umm, Captain?"
Miho let a hint of mirth touch her expression. "I suppose it might be a tad confusing, between myself and my sister. But at present I don't actually hold a formal commission, so there is no actual need to address me by a rank."
There was a very subtle, barely perceptible, shifting by the Japanese present, something that Kevin seemed to notice and understand. And even agree with.
"I'll keep that in mind, Captain."
Miho at least did not bother further with that point. She suspected, even if not permanent, the rank foisted upon her would linger as a courtesy if nothing else. Instead her gaze shifted again, to that of the photo of the original Captain Nishizumi, surrounded by an arrangement of abundant flowers. The photo that had been chosen was from when Maho graduated from the Defense Academy, Miho immediately recognized, and showed her sister with a genuinely happy smile on her face. That felt like such a rare sight the older her sister got. Back when they were mere children, her sister would grace her with a smile so easily, even while maintaining a stern, determined visage when faced with the instruction and expectations of their mother. No, it was not that the smile grew rarer, Miho thought. It was that as she saw the weight of duty upon her sister, Miho herself sought it out less and less, as if afraid one day Maho would no longer grant her it so easily. Now, all she had of that smile was in those glimpses of the past captured by such photos, and her memories.
A tear streaked down Miho's cheek, then another, before the woman realized what was happening. Even so knowing, Miho found it impossible to stem the tide now flowing forth, however hard she tried. At the soft cry that escaped her throat, the others bowed their own heads in mutual empathy.
"A Nishizumi," Miho said in between the scratching of her throat, "is supposed to be strong and implacable in the face of adversity. Always moving forward, without hesitation."
The Japanese present, all students of the school, recognized well that shared creed.
"Mother lived up to it. You lived up to it, Sister. But is it really something that I can do as well, without either of you?"
Tohdoh felt his own heart twist as he gazed upon the so-small back of the woman he had known since she was a little girl. A little girl who, while exuding a sunny disposition so starkly in contrast with her mother, and even her sister, still carried an unquenchable determination that put so many of her fellow disciples of the Nishizumi school to shame. Back then, Tohdoh had often wondered just how such a small figure could hold such a fierce spirit. Now though, there was no doubt in his mind that the source of that strength was the immense love Miho held for her family. For her sister, for her mother, even for her departed father. But with that last link to her family gone, how much longer could that strength hold? How much longer could Miho's own heart keep from shattering? Tohdoh did not know. And in not knowing, he found himself feeling more helpless than he had ever before.
As the imperial capital, it was hardly a surprise that numerous imperial residences dotted the city and surrounding countryside. Only a few warranted the term of palace, while most were of more modest sizes and so accorded the designation of villa. The estate that served as Lelouch's formal residence while in Pendragon was counted amongst the latter, while the place he was now calling upon actually qualified as one of the former. The reason for this was because Warwick Palace served as a residence for a joint household, that of the el and la Britannias, for Schneizel and Adonis' mother was the elder sister of Clovis and Laila's. That made their respective children cousins in addition to half-siblings, though such formalities were more for show than of practical consequence. All of Charles' children had been raised to think of each other as family, so the marital situation simply meant they each had an abundance of mothers as well as siblings. It was a familiarity and closeness on full display now as Lelouch walked through the palace doors.
"Lelouch!"
A young girl ran with most unladylike haste, careening into him and wrapping her arms around in a tight embrace. Catching hold of the girl, Lelouch gave a wry chuckle as he gave her head and affectionate pat.
"It is good to see you as well, Laila."
A muffled sound came from the girl as she snuggled herself against her brother's chest. She remained that way for several long moments, seemingly afraid he might disappear if she loosened her grip. Lelouch indulged his little sister, he had plenty of experience in that department, but eventually he needed to move things along, lest the other woman in his life start to think she was being stood up.
"Laila, you can let go now," Lelouch said.
The cardinal could feel the younger girl's head wobble side to side even still pressed against him.
"I'm not going anywhere, Laila," Lelouch said gently, running a hand through her hair. "Come, we don't want to keep your mother waiting."
With great reluctance, Laila finally pulled back, but one hand remained tightly holding one of Lelouch's own. The youth offered his sister another smile as he gave a slight squeeze back. That seemed to assuage Laila as she walked alongside him.
"I presume Mother is in the atelier?" Lelouch asked.
Laila's head bobbed up and down, then dipped downward more. "She's been in there a lot since…"
To that Lelouch gave a nod of his own. "I see."
That saw Laila quickly look up at him with widened eyes. "But it's not your fault! You did your best to help Clovis! And Euphie! You-you-"
The girl's lips moved but she was clearly struggling to recover from her presumed faux pas. Lelouch gave her hand another reassuring squeeze.
"I am aware," he said. "But still, thank you."
Laila's expression was still bereft of a smile, but she seemed to calm a bit at the reassurance. Her loss of words however still belayed her continued unease. Not with Lelouch personally, but with how best to reconnect with a dear brother that had disappeared, and reappeared, only in the wake of great tragedies. Fortunately, Lelouch had just a bit of experience doing that sort of reconnection as well, and arguably had gotten better at it than the first few times.
"I understand you have turned into one of Mother's prized pupils in her atelier," the cardinal said.
Laila gave a nod even as her cheeks darkened slightly. "One of my paintings was put on display last year."
Artistry certainly seemed to run through the Franks family, with Gabriella especially dedicated to nurturing her skills. Being from a wealthy family in her own right and having an older sister that inherited their parents' titles granted the woman greater freedom to pursue her personal interests, and it was not just due to her name and status that Gabriella's works were sought after pieces. Still, it certainly did not hurt.
In addition to supporting her own paintings, Gabriella's wealth allowed her to maintain a small atelier, which took on students of various means but always of exceptional talent. While being her children meant Clovis and Laila, and indeed any of their half-siblings would always find her door open if they wished to learn techniques of artistry, to be counted amongst the actual students of her studio required genuine merit. On that count, neither Clovis nor Laila had disappointed.
"I recall seeing it," Lelouch said, a wry smile emerging. "I suppose it was easy enough to catch the cat napping, long enough to make the painting."
"It, wasn't that easy," Laila said with a small pout. "Bedivere likes to choose a different spot every time for his nap, so I had to find him and move my supplies to where he was without waking him up."
That saw Lelouch give a chuckle, which earned him another pout from his sister. There did seem to be a certain tendency to use Arthurian lore amongst his family for the names their various pets. Her own mother had owned a large, black furred Malmute that she named Mordred. Despite who he was the namesake of, Mordred had been an exceedingly loyal dog that was very protective over not only his mistress but also her children. Lelouch could even recall Mordred cheerfully giving Nunnally rides on his back. Perhaps because of that loyalty however, Mordred had not flinched when the heretics came for Marianne, and fell in the defense of his mistress and her daughter. It was really in his honor that Anya's knightmare was named, since Anya herself was someone the dog had helped save, if only indirectly.
Lelouch pushed those thoughts aside as he focused on the sister that was currently with him. "Such are the travails an artist must endure for her art, no?"
"It was a lot of things to carry," Laila said.
And it might well have been for a girl her age. A full canvas and easel were not light by any means.
"Mother is still averse to using photographic references, I take it?"
"She says the only way to truly capture something's soul with our brush is if we see it with our own eyes."
Lelouch chuckled. "Ever the traditionalist."
Laila looked up at her brother. "Do you, disagree?"
The two came to a halt as Lelouch looked up at the painting hanging on the wall. Laila likewise turned her head to follow his gaze. There, spread out in all its glory, was a massive oil painting of Horseshoe Falls, the largest of the three waterfalls at Niagara. Up close, one could make out the speckles and splotches of paint that formed the ripples of water and wrinkling of light. Even at the distance the two siblings stood, all that blended together to present a visage that might almost be mistaken for the real thing.
"Art is often a window into the perception of the artist that created it," Lelouch said. "I would not gainsay Mother's grasp on her own perception, but neither would I assume she has a full understanding of my own."
Laila's eyes flickered as she mulled over those words. The look she next gave Lelouch carried a hint of reproach.
"That wasn't an answer."
Another chuckle escaped Lelouch as they began walking again. "And your own perception is growing by leaps and bounds, I see."
"That wasn't an answer either," Laila said with a pout but didn't further push the point.
The two siblings continued bantering amiably as they trekked towards the atelier, for there was quite a bit of time to fill with conversation. On top of Warrick's size, for security reasons the workshop was positioned fairly deeply within the palace, right next to the residential quarters. That latter bit might have more to do with how much time Gabriella spent in there, though. Still, aside from the varied paintings that had been swapped out since his last visit, overall there was a nostalgic air from walking these halls once more. It was a sense that only grew as the skritch-skritch sound of pencil to paper became audible. Even expecting a guest was no reason for Gabriella to not scratch her artistic itch. Still, Gabriella was not so immersed as to miss Lelouch and Laila's entrance into the atelier. Setting aside her sketchbook, the empress rose and approached her children.
"Your Majesty," Lelouch said with a slight dip of his head.
Rising, Gabriella stepped over with a raised eyebrow. "Victoria warned me about that. I suppose if you are cheeky enough to pull that on her, I certainly am not going to inspire any more reverence as a mother figure."
Lelouch opened his mouth to respond but was promptly cut off as Gabriella wrapped her arms around him.
"But that's not going to stop me from trying, Son."
To that, how else could Lelouch respond but this. He returned the embrace.
"It is good to see you again, Mother."
Gabriella la Britannia had been reported bedridden after the death of her son, but that had been months ago. While the empress-consort was far from fully recovered, she at least was carrying on a passably normal day-to-day routine now, and could even muster this display of affection, genuine at that, for the other son whose hand played a role, however unwittingly, in the older one's death. Leaning back, Gabriella took a good look over of her son, running her hands through his hair and down his cheeks.
"Hard to believe, it seems like it was just yesterday when you were only yay tall, barely coming up to my stomach. Now, I think you might actually have an inch or two over me."
"Hopefully I might yet get my second meter," Lelouch said.
That earned the youth a ruffling of his hair.
"Cheeky indeed," Gabriella said, before her expression smoothed over. "Thank you, for your letter after what happened to Clovis. You did everything within your power, so there is no reason for you to apologize or take on any blame."
Lelouch let out a sigh. "Would that my everything have been enough."
Gabriella gave a wry chuckle. "We wouldn't have regrets otherwise, would we? Now, come, have a seat."
Workshop though this may be, there were several rather comfortable sofas arranged about and Lelouch plopped down on one, with Laila immediately squeezing in next to him.
"I presume you are making your obligatory rounds to assuage all of your mothers that you haven't actually forgotten us," Gabriella said, picking up her sketchbook and began doodling, "after getting an earful from Victoria back in Japan?"
The cardinal tilted his head. "Victoria was supposed to give me some sort of admonishment?"
The eyebrow rose again, though the pencil kept moving. "You mean she did not?"
Lelouch shrugged. "She might have had some words about me not paying all of you courtesies before departing for Japan, but she seemed understanding of the obligations I was under."
The pencil was still moving, but Gabriella was massaging her temple with her free hand.
"I suppose I should have expected that, what with how duty-oriented Victoria is."
Lelouch gave another shrug as his eyes wandered around the workshop.
"How many students do you presently have?"
"Just the three now," Gabriella said. "The others I released on account of my sabbatical. Well, I had intended for just the one, but the other two insisted they would wait so long as they remained officially on the books."
The youth's lips thinned. "Do you expect to be returning from that in the near future?"
While Gabriella's eyes had continued flitting over Lelouch, they now met his own.
"Why? Interested in taking your old spot again?"
The cardinal smiled wryly as he shook his head. "I'm afraid I'd be a bit too out of practice. The arts were part of my education within the Order, but its relative priority to my other studies was, well, proportionally lower."
"Yes, I'm sure you needed to learn quite a few things in order to move your pieces around on a map instead of a chessboard," Gabriella said, though Lelouch felt no bite in her blasé tone. It was a simple consequence of her current focus, after all.
Looking about again, Lelouch saw an unused sketchpad on the coffee table in front of them, along with a scattering of pencils. Picking them up, the sound of his own pencil scratches soon joined Gabriella's, with Laila watching curiously the lines take shape.
"So what did bring you here," Gabriella asked, "if not out of filial obligation?"
"Well, there was at least some of that," Lelouch conceded. "I may well be away from Pendragon again for an extended period, and I would be remiss if I did not at least see my family at least once beforehand."
"So, making the rounds then," Gabriella repeated.
Lelouch sighed. "Yes, if you truly wish to call it that."
"Oh, don't get me wrong, Lelouch, I'm glad for any opportunity for you to drop by, I could just wish you weren't saddled with such duties that you need to economize on time with your own family."
"If wishes were fishes," Lelouch quoted nonchalantly.
"The ocean would be wrung dry," Gabriella said with a snort. "There is that hardheaded rationality you showed even when a child. Perhaps if I had had you in my atelier for a few more years, you would have grown a more romantic sensibility."
"Well, I seem to be doing something right," Lelouch said, "for Milly to find my company tolerable."
"Milly," Gabriella repeated the name. "Amelia's daughter. Quite the spirited young lady, to be able to hold your reins."
"There has been no shortage of volunteers to try," Lelouch said dryly.
"Now, now, Lelouch, you should be more appreciative of the ladies in your life," Gabriella said, "what with how many you have, you wouldn't want to make the mistake of taking them for granted."
"If I was any more appreciative, I would be getting complaints about the danger my cakes posed to their waistlines," was Lelouch's retort.
Laila giggled at that while Gabriella let her eye linger on her stepson for a moment. There was so much of the little boy she remembered, mindful but still always standing his ground. His wit certainly had not dulled in the years since and Gabriella could see why, despite how proudly Victoria recounted her own reunion with Lelouch, her fellow wife also sounded worried. One did not ascend to the level of responsibility Lelouch now shouldered without going through some rather arduous preparations, or be given some cause to drive themselves so hard. For her son, the cause was obvious enough. Still.
"What do you intend after this war is over?" Gabriella asked, even as her eyes fell back on her sketchpad. "Despite your duties, you are still young and have time aplenty to try out different things."
Lelouch pursed his lips. "I am not entirely certain, honestly speaking. Though whatever it is will likely involve the Order, I consider its many works beyond the martial to also be important."
"You do have the freedom to choose something other than duty, Lelouch," Gabriella said. "Especially after the service you've already provided."
To that however Lelouch shook his head. "I have not even started to repay the debt of service I owe. While there may be different ways in which I can make good that debt, I expect that the rest of my life will be spent in service of it, whatever form it may take."
A pained expression crossed Gabriella's expression while Laila looked up at her brother with worry. Lelouch however offered a gentle smile in return.
"Do not fret. I am not troubled by such prospects, nor am I being asked to sacrifice my own happiness in the process. The Order has wholeheartedly blessed a prospective union between Milly and myself, and there are provisions aplenty that would allow me to take time to build a family with her. But I cannot be selfish about such blessings. To allow as many as possible to also be granted this opportunity, I must do my own part."
To that Gabriella offered no answer aside from the scratching of her pencil. Whatever thoughts Lelouch's words had elicited, the woman did not seem to want to put into words herself, at least not yet. Laila looked back and forth between the two, recognizing the mood her mother. When she looked at Lelouch's, faint memories were stirred of a similar such sight from long ago.
"How big is your part then?" Laila asked after a moment.
Lelouch blinked, glancing over at his sister. "It's however big I can make it."
The girl tilted her head. "What do you mean?"
"How much any individual person can do is different," Lelouch responded, "much as what we can do differs. Some people are stronger, some are faster, some are smarter, some are kinder. We each in our own way, no matter what we may be good or bad at, have some way of giving back to society by doing our part. And by doing as much as we can, we help make up for those others who might not be able to do the things we can, just as they in turn help make up for those things that we cannot. So there is no real limit to how big a part each of us has. So long as we keep giving based on what we can do, we help keep the world going, and maybe also make it a little better in the process. Do you understand."
Laila gave a slow nod as she mulled over those words. "I think I do."
Lelouch smiled, giving his sister a pat on the head. "It is something that takes time, and experience, to fully grasp, so take it at your pace, just as you would any painting."
Watching the exchange, Gabriella's heart tightened. While she knew it was irrational and unfair, a part of her still wished that it was Clovis that could be here to impart such words of wisdom upon Laila. For a Clovis that could do so would not have fallen so short in judgment as to bring about his own downfall in Japan. Then again, perhaps that was just her trying to hide from her own guilt. After all, would Clovis have succumbed to such misjudgments if she had been better at instructing him as his mother?
The question still gnawed at her as the tear of paper sounded. Lelouch set aside his pencil and the sketchpad, then held out the singular sheet to Gabriella. The woman took it and let out a slight gasp at the sight. The girl shown here was strikingly familiar, and why not when she was another of Gabriella's daughters.
"I know you care little for photographs," Lelouch said, "but I unfortunately was not mindful enough to do a proper rendition of Nunnally before dropping by. I hope that this sketch from memory will suffice."
Gabriella ran her fingers along the lines, taking in the gently smiling face framed by the flowing, voluminous hair.
"This, is what Nunnally looks like now?"
Lelouch gave a simple nod. Gabriella stared at the drawing in lingering silence, then rose and crossed the distance to the sofa. She pulled Lelouch into another embrace, one even tighter than the last.
"I have thus far lost a sister, a son, and a daughter," she said. "Do not make me mourn you as well, Lelouch."
Back at her own seat, despite its roughness, the sketch had taken on recognizable form. At the center, a trio of sisters seated and laughing merrily, while flanked on the two sides by their respective brothers. And standing behind smiling down upon her family, was Gabriella herself.
End of Chapter 68
So the delay in getting this chapter out had less to do with me not writing much, I actually have a 4k+ word scene that I got out which simply happens in a later chapter. This was ultimately just a remarkably difficult chapter to write, not least because of the need to set the appropriate tone for the events. Euphemia's funeral was a truncated version of that in the Book of Common Prayer, I didn't want to bother with the lesson from Corinth. I also had to tweak a couple of things because, doctrinally speaking, unlike most other Christian denominations, Eden Vital does not emphasize the notion of a reward after death. This was brought up in the past when Eden Vital's name and motto was discussed, of how life is paradise, not some hypothetical heaven after death. Yes, life can be full of misery and suffering, but the reward for enduring it all is not something one obtains after passing on from life, as far as Eden Vital's doctrine goes, it is something that you earn in the life you have.
As can be seen, I'm playing around with the familial dynamics of the imperial family. I believe I've hinted in the past that at least two of Charles' wives were outright sisters, and I settled on Clovis and Schneizel's mothers. That's now two of the five, Victoria and Gabrielle, that's been met, with Beatrice at least having been namedropped. Whether we'll meet the rest, well, time will tell. I will at least reveal that Marrybell's mother's name is Clarabelle.
So I've now gotten a second review where a reader indicates they were looking for a more uplifting story. Which, is fine, to each their own. The catch with following any of my stories however is that as a writer I don't believe it possible to have uplifting moments in a story without the lows that we're currently going through. Structurally there always has to be some sort of trial or tribulation for the characters to overcome in order to make the actual high points satisfying. And the more difficult the trial, or even outright failures, that happen, the higher the counterpart that one can achieve when the characters win, so to speak. That is not to say I believe in some sort of masochistic constant beating down of the characters. For every tragedy I've visited upon the characters thus far, they've also had major wins along the way. Clovis may have died, but Lelouch was able to pull Japan back from the brink while gaining several allies, friends, even a girlfriend. Kaguya was nearly murdered by renegade JLF and wasn't able to win Lelouch's hand, but she was reunited with family and still gained Lelouch's respect and even in some ways affection. Kallen nearly lost both her mother and father, but now has a strong bond with both. The pattern at this point should be evident.
Will I put my characters through hell? Absolutely. Will not everyone make it? Also very probably, we're at best only halfway through the story and we've already had half a dozen or so named deaths so far. But for those that do, will I give them an end worthy of their effort and sacrifice (at least for the "good" guys)? To the very best of my ability, yes, because by that point they'll have actually earned it. I don't do wish fulfillment in my stories. Everything has a price, but I at least try to make the price fair.
That being said, I will note that if what you want is a story where the "lesson" is for the whole of the world to come together to resolve their differences peaceably, uh, yeah, that I'll just save you the trouble now and state openly that I am probably never, ever going to write a story with such a premise. Like, ever.
The air force/navy rivalry seems to be in full swing. At present the air force Raptor is getting a fair number more favorites than the navy Panther.
Never touched Titanfall so have no opinion one way or another.