Baron Urien Trevain adjusted his uniform, cleared his throat, and pushed open the wood-paneled door. The room inside was as elegant as he had expected. His eyes followed the gilded red carpet at his feet, to the massive desk which was centrally featured. Upon the desk were numerous ornate items: a world globe from perhaps ten years ago, with the Areas all still numbered as they had been before Lelouch's betrayal. Also upon the desk was a quaint analog clock, it's brass workings exposed inside a small glass dome. The face showed the time to be 2:15 pm.

A book was rested on the desk, held open by a pair of large hands which belonged to a large man who sat behind, in a high-backed, beige leather chair. At Baron Trevain's entrance the large man raised his electric blue eyes from the book and stared for a moment in evaluation. His hair was short cropped and black, and he was clean shaven. He was the Grand Duke Frederick Weinberg, and he was soon to be the most powerful man in the Empire.

Weinberg raised his thick eyebrows at Trevain, and stood, extending a hand across the desk. "Urien," he grunted familiarly. Trevain put his smaller hand in Weinberg's and allowed it to be gruffly and firmly shaken. "Sit down," Weinberg indicated a wheeled chair before the desk, then descended again into his own seat.

"Brandy?" said Weinberg as he took a large golden bottle of the stuff from a desk drawer.

"No, thank you, My Lord," Trevain raised a hand politely.

Weinberg nodded, poured himself a large glass, and set the bottle on the tabletop in preparation for other large glasses. "So," he said, and extended a hand at Trevain to indicate that he should give his report now.

Trevain said, without preamble, "Margrave Jeremiah has been imprisoned at the Astolat facility, as per your instructions. His interrogation was, as I understand it…" Trevain shrugged, "unsatisfactory."

Weinberg blinked at him. "In what way so?"

"We were unsuccessful in extracting a confession of culpability in Lelouch's murder from him. It is possible that Kururugi acted alone. We know nothing more now than we did before their arrests."

Weinberg frowned. "Even after placing them together?"

"They've said nothing of interest to each other, My Lord."

The Grand Duke tossed off the remainder of his brandy with a flourish, then poured another. "Do not forget, Urien," he said pointedly, raising a finger. "That Margrave Jeremiah knew who Zero was. He is involved with Kururugi in some way."

"Yes, My Lord," Trevain briefly lowered his head in deference.

"Something here makes no sense," Weinberg sat back, the glass of brandy enfolded by his hand. "I have smelled it from the beginning. They overthrew Lelouch, yes, that is undeniable. They used Schniezel's geass-control to rule Britannia, yes. But for what reason? Jeremiah kept his original rank and retired from political life. Kururugi lived not as himself but as Zero. Neither of them benefited from the coup in any measurable way. Where is the motive?"

Trevain sat in contemplation for a moment, then said, plaintively, "Altruism?"

"Maybe," Weinberg admitted. "Understandable maybe in Kururugi. I know nothing about Jeremiah other than that he was…" the Grand Duke grimaced, "experimented on."

"I don't understand the secrecy," Trevain leaned forward with a frown. "Why was it necessary for Kururugi to be thought dead? For him to secretly command Schniezel? If Lelouch was the problem why not merely assassinate him and leave it at that?"

"No, no," Weinberg waved a hand tolerantly. "Kururugi had to be dead so that no one would suspect Zero was a former confidant of Lelouch's. And he had to command Schniezel because it was not merely their goal to kill Lelouch." He set his glass down grimly. "It was their goal to control the Britannian Empire. This is why they went along with Lelouch, I suppose. His initial steps, in abolishing the nobility and the occupation of the Areas, these were in line with what they wanted. But the 99th Emperor was power-mad. They had to be rid of him."

"I see," Trevain nodded.

"But they've crippled us," Weinberg glowered down at his drink. "They along with their pet Empress. We're weakening. Our economy is failing. Which is, actually, why I've asked you here, Urien. Above all the other members of the House of Lords I trust you. You have been most helpful to my movement. I have many allies, each with their own assets. Some are ruthless, some powerful. Some are wealthy, and some politically acute. Some are merely excellent actors. But you, out of all of them, you alone have a deep analytical understanding. To reason these things through, you see."

"I thank you for your praise, My Lord," Trevain said carefully.

"We have a problem or ten, Baron," said Weinberg glumly to his drink.

He said nothing further for a long moment. He drank the rest of his drink, then poured another. It was apparent that he was feeling the affects of the brandy. Trevain watched him uncomfortably for a while. Then, in order to break the silence, Trevain said, "By the way, My Lord, may I offer congratulations to your son?"

Weinberg glanced up. "Eh? My son?" he said with a scowl.

"I-I had heard he has been appointed the Knight of One."

Weinberg pursed his lips and looked away. Then he snorted scornfully. "Yes. They say he's a fine soldier. They brought me the order and I saw no reason not to sign it." He seemed apprehensive. "If he wants to be a knight he can do it and be disowned for all I care."

Trevain knew better than to say anything more about the matter. "Well then, My Lord. Business-"

"Business!" Weinberg interrupted and raised his glass. "Yes. Let me tell you our real problem, Urien. Listen, they are all going on about how it's unconscionable, it's a travesty, the Areas have no idea how to rule themselves. Things of that nature. There is a general fear that the EU or the Chinese Federation will attack now that we are weakened. But that is a small part of the problem."

Weinberg lurched to his feet and paced over to his world globe. Almost absently, his hand came down upon it as he continued to talk. "Listen. The media haven't quite picked it up yet, but we are headed into the worst recession yet. The main problem is commerce! Is industry!" He spun the globe about, stopped it again. "Under Kururugi and Nunnally, our worldwide concerns have been utterly uprooted. Our transnationals are cut off. Many corporations have gone bankrupt practically overnight. Do you realize-none of our industry is actually based in Britannia! We manufactured plastics in Area Nine. We got our metals from Area Five and Area Seven. Our chemical plants are all in Area Three, Ten, and Eight. Mining sakuradite from damned Area Eleven. And I haven't even mentioned the workforce. With their independence, the Areas also (illegally, I might add) have obtained the entirety of our industrial might."

Weinberg shook his head savagely and turned aside. "So! The question that I have been mulling, and the one that I put to you now, is this: where the devil are we going to get labourers from? How are we going to reacquire our overseas businesses that have been stolen? Empress Nunally has us trading with them for everything, and it is killing our economy. That terrorist Kaname, especially, is intolerable. We need sakuradite for our military. Where before we would have simply mined it, now we must trade for it, and Kaname is letting it go at exorbitant prices. And meanwhile they are mining it and building who knows what kind of Knightmares." The Grand Duke scratched feverishly at his jaw line. "So think, Urien. Help me think this through."

Baron Trevain sat back in contemplation, his chair creaking. He was a man of narrow frame, with a thin face. His curling brown hair hung back in a pony tail, and his eyes were of a golden brown. When he looked in the mirror he liked to imagine that his eyes were those of a hawk, able to see farther and more clearly than those of anyone else.

Trevain thought, his manicured fingernails tapping the armrest.

Then he said, "To simply retake some of the Areas-"

But Weinberg instantly dismissed the idea, with a swift shake of his head. "That would be political suicide. Many of the Nobles are tired of war. Many still support Empress Nunally's way of doing things. We have control but not enough control to make that move. Besides, the EU and the Federation, and now Japan of all things, are united in their distrust of us. Our military is still perhaps a match for all of them at once, but not for much longer. My advisors tell me that the Eleve-Japanese-are certainly taking advantage of their new monopoly on sakuradite. There is no doubt that their friends the Chinese are receiving much freer trade than we are. They are building up forces. It seems inevitable that, eventually, they will attack and that it will be the end of Britannia. But for perhaps a year, until our economic crisis comes to a head, we still have the upper hand militarily."

"But our own people…" Trevain frowned darkly at his fingers where they massaged the leather armrest. "If we moved for war with Japan, we'd be shouted down. Maybe impeached. The problem is to convince them that we must retake the Areas."

"Exactly," Weinberg nodded and again took his seat. Shortly he had refilled his glass and was downing the brandy. He looked to Trevain.

"Bring the media to our side," Trevain advised with his thumb thoughtfully tapping at his lips, chin hunched forward. "Befriend them and let them know which way the wind is blowing. Make it worth their while to help us."

Weinberg smiled. "Those steps are already being taken."

Trevain said, "Divide the competition in the House. Spread rumours about some of Nunally's diehard supporters. Make it impossible for them to trust each other."

Weinberg nodded. "A good plan."

"Generate public opinion," said Trevain. "I mean, My Lord, that we should provide the people with some warning concerning the economic turn. Let it be known that Japan is hoarding sakuradite. Let it be known that our businesses have been illegally seized. Stocks are declining due to the loss of the Areas. Let a sort of panic take the nation and everyone will be itching to take back the Areas. Don't forget," Trevain pointed out, "many of the nobles themselves were financially crippled by Nunally. They are all businessmen, CEOs, equity lords. They are worried that their children won't have a corporate dynasty to inherit. We should feed that fear."

Weinberg was continuing to nod, as he gulped at his brandy. He sighed loudly and clunked the glass down on the table. "Yes, yes. Those are all wise steps. Necessary steps, even. But we must make Britannians willing to risk another war.

"For this," Weinberg sat back with a sad shake of his head. "For this, something drastic must happen."

Hi everyone,

I gotta apologize for this chapter being short and not featuring any recognizable characters. In order to do this story right I gotta outline some of the political stuff as well. Anyway, here I will solemnly promise that next weekend there'll be another familiar face and greater levels of awesome.

JDCT