The people of Europe were a resentful lot. Once considered the world's superpower, Europe had been a trailblazer in science, arts, and philosophy, and had even destroyed its monarchs and nobility. It was the birthplace of Rome and Alexander the Great, but now it had been reduced to a mere fragment of Britannia's global empire.
The Great War had brought about their complete and utter defeat. Their armies were no more, their industrial capacity was limited due to Britannian regulations, and even their republics and democracies had been replaced by the Britannian Area system. They were reduced to nothing but mere Numbers.
But, despite their overwhelming defeat, the people of Europe still held their chins high. Remember Napoleon, many often said, a rallying cry that made it clear to Euphemia: while Europe had been defeated, its people persevered.
As Euphemia gazed into her wine glass, she let out a sigh. Despite the passage of time, she was grateful to have aged gracefully. Her face remained smooth and soft, and her hair still retained its vibrant color. And according to Suzaku, she had also grown in all the right places; she giggled at the thought, before sipping some wine. She did not giggle these days very much, and outside of Suzaku's company, she seldom smiled too.
"They are like a pit of vipers," she commented, her eyes scanning the crowd before her.
Jeremiah glanced over at her, a small grin on his face. "But their fangs are far too dull," he replied with a dry smile, his gaze also fixed on the crowd.
"Snakes can still strangle you, Jeremiah," Euphemia retorted, resting her fist under her chin.
She sat on an elegant throne that was ornately decorated and designed to befit a person of her status. It was made of precious gold, silver, and adorned with sapphire and ruby stones. Her throne sat high, higher than anyone else in the room, allowing her to look down on the one-hundred and fifty-two men and women that dined and talked across the room. One man approached her, kneeling in the red linen carpet underneath him.
The man was in his fifties, dressed in white silk, which draped elegantly over his portly figure. His balding head shone under the light, giving the impression of a polished marble. Despite his ample girth, he moved with a surprising lightness of step, his white silk clothes rustling softly as he knelt. "Your highness," he said, his voice loud and clear.
"Please, speak your mind, Louis," she gestured for him to stand.
The balding man struggled to his feet, bowing his head as he did so. "Lady Abrielle continues to speak sweet words that spark treasonous thoughts, your highness."
This again.
Louis had been a successful European politician before the war, and after it, he had been granted the privilege of nobility. He was the duke of Burgundy now, one of Europe's richest regions. He was one of Lelouch's most fervent supporters in the continent too. A shame he was such a fool. Now Lady Abrielle…
Abrielle was a businesswoman before the conquest, and she had also been granted the privilege of nobility by Lelouch. But unlike Louis, she did not simply show her belly because of her rise in rank. A shrewd woman who would bend the knee without hesitation, but sharpened her knives the second you turned your back. She was a French woman; why were the French always the proudest? The most difficult? Remember Napoleon.
"Napoleon, Your Highness?" Louis asked, confused.
Had she spoken out loud? She waved her hand dismissively. "I will deal with Lady Abrielle, you are dismissed, Louis." Her words came out lazily as she slumped on her chair, passing a hand on over her forehead. Louis looked at her still, mouth gaping wide open, he wanted so say something else clearly. She waved her hand again, this time Louis blinked, he turned and walked away.
"Jeremiah, please bring Lady Abrielle to me," Euphemia commanded, her eyes still locked on the crowd that feasted and drank seemingly without a care in the world. She checked her watch, realizing there were only two minutes left before the stick would arrive. She hoped the carrot would suffice.
As Jeremiah brought Abrielle to her, Euphemia straightened her posture and prepared herself for the conversation. Abrielle was a striking woman with a youthful appearance, thanks to her ginger hair and freckled complexion. She wore a silk red dress that flowed behind her, and her green eyes were piercing and focused. Euphemia took a deep breath, determined to be at her best.
"Your Highness," Lady Abrielle gracefully knelt, her red dress cascading to the ground. "Do you require my presence?"
"I demand your presence," Euphemia said flatly. "Tell me, how do the land of Lorraine fair, Countess?"
The countess's freckled face lit up with a smile. "Under Britannian rule, Lorraine has prospered. Roads have been repaired, bridges have been built, and cities have been rebuilt. Every child is fed a proper meal, women can walk safely at night, and men live contentedly, all thanks to your wise guidance, Prime Minister."
"You flatter me, Countess. But I am not the Emperor; I merely follow his directives," Euphemia replied.
"Oh? Does he give his directives while floundering in those ruins of his?" Abrielle asked dryly, lowering her head to hide her expression.
Euphemia bit her bottom lip, and Jeremiah tensed beside her. "The Emperor's duties are his own, Countess," Euphemia said, remaining composed.
"Yes, yes, the Emperor, may his reign last forever," Abrielle said dismissively. "I know whom to thank, Your Highness, and it is not the Emperor," she raised her head, still wearing a small smile. "Why do you summon me? I suspect it is not for an exchange of pleasantries."
"You know why, Abrielle. Your words border on treason, and despite my warnings, you continue to speak recklessly," Euphemia stated firmly. "I do not understand, Countess. I have granted you more land, tax privileges, and even royal patronage for your charities. Why do you persist in resisting us?"
Abrielle remained silent for a moment, her green eyes searching Euphemia's face. Finally, she spoke "Do you truly ask me that, Your Highness?" Abrielle asked with a plain face.
"Of course not," Euphemia nearly snapped. "If my own lands were conquered, I would fight to the bitter end. But you, Countess, are much smarter than I. You bend when needed and remain sturdy when necessary. Your people thrive because of your pragmatism, and yet you seemed prepared to throw that all away with your treasonous words. That is why I ask: why? What has changed, Abrielle? Let me hear your grievances, let me hear your concerns, and let us work together to avert disaster."
Abrielle stared at Euphemia, her face unreadable. "Your Highness, you have rejected my plights for autonomy, you have rejected my suggestions for the change of the Number system, you give High Inquisitors complete immunity in their investigations -" Abrielle stopped herself, lowering her head. "There is nothing to talk about, Your Highness."
Euphemia glanced at her watch. Two minutes had come and passed. "I apologize, Lady Abrielle," she said rising from the throne, she walked down the steps slowly. The ginger-haired woman frowned with arms crossed. "I tried my best," Euphemia sighed.
"Pardon?"
"Introducing Lelouch vi Britannia, the Emperor of Britannia!" announced a man as he appeared at the entrance of the dining hall. The room immediately filled with murmurs and gasps, causing some women to drop their drinks and men to drop their forks. The crowd split off in a slow and chaotic panic, with some hastily drinking their wine, while others grouped together with the people from their region, as if seeking strength in numbers. Amidst the chaos, a few individuals beamed with excitement and eagerly tried to catch a glimpse of their ruler.
Euphemia shifted her gaze towards Abrielle, who maintained a stoic expression, although her face had turned noticeably pale. A man with raven hair made his way through the room, followed by a group of eight elegantly dressed women in black, the crowd began to divide into two.
The emperor's ceremonial uniform was a striking display of grandeur and elegance. Made of the finest white silk, the coat was adorned with intricate gold embroidery, depicting the empire's coat of arms and other regal symbols. The uniform was completed with a pair of fitted trousers and polished leather boots, adding to the emperor's imposing presence. An imposing presence Lelouch seemed to have mastered effortlessly. He strode cocksure, never even glancing at the men and women who dined in the room.
Over the years, Lelouch had grown even taller, and his hair had grown longer as well. It was always styled elegantly and reached just past the sides of his ears, accentuating the flow in his stride. His back appeared broader, and his shoulders more defined, adding to his lean and robust appearance.
"Euphemia," Lelouch greeted her with a wide smile. Abrielle was already kneeling.
"Your majesty," she curtsied appropriately, her gaze darting quickly over his personal guard, all stunningly beautiful women whose faces wore an eerie, lifeless expression. Suppressing her revulsion, Euphemia raised her head "I am glad you could join us."
"I could never refuse you, Euphemia," Lelouch's smile persisted, but it failed to reach his eyes, which held a dark intensity fixed on her. She swallowed, steeling herself as best she could. To her relief his focus darted towards Abrielle. The woman's face paled even further, but to her credit, her lips remained a thin straight line and her eyes looked back at the emperor without hesitation. "This is her?" he asked, slowly stepping towards the countess.
He halted directly in front of Abrielle, bending forward until his face was level with hers. His smile lingered, though it had diminished to a mere curve. "You are the one who whispers of rebellion?" he inquired, his tone measured but his eyes ablaze.
"I -" Abrielle's voice faltered.
"Why must you persist in fighting?" he continued, his voice soft. "The war is already over, is it not, dear Countess? I have shattered your armies and broken your nations. Must I also break your spirits?" He chuckled, but the sound was void of amusement.
"Your Majesty, I beg forgiveness for my actions," Abrielle finally spoke, sinking into a curtsy. "I only desire the best for my people. I was foolish-"
"I did not grant you permission to speak, Countess," Lelouch said softly, his smile vanishing. Euphemia watched as Abrielle froze, unable to even move. "Now, my dear Prime Minister, what shall we do with her? Whispering of rebellion is not a crime, but perhaps a proactive measure is necessary." His eyes darted to Euphemia, waiting for her response, those dark purple eyes stared at her sharply. She shifted to the side to avoid his gaze.
"A watchful eye will be enough, Your Majesty," especially after this, "she shall be kept in check."
"Do you hear that, Countess? My Prime Minister is quite lenient. But what do you think? Should I simply keep an eye on you?"
"What the Emperor wills is wisest," Abrielle found the bravery to speak, even if her words signaled submission.
Euphemia observed the hundred guests gazing in their direction, their expressions marked by palpable unease. Though they stood too far away to overhear, the wall of soldiers made up of Lelouch's personal guards and her own kept them at a distance. Euphemia also noted Jeremiah's disapproving glance at Lelouch.
Lelouch chuckled as he repeated Abrielle's words, "What the Emperor wills?" and took a step back. His towering figure loomed over Abrielle, seeming to shrink the spacious hall around them, and his dark eyes cast a foreboding shadow. "What do I will? Perhaps a public humiliation? No, no, you seem far too sturdy for that. An arrest? And make you a martyr? No, I think not." His eyes suddenly lit up, and he traced a fingertip over the woman's lips. "Perhaps you should receive the Emperor's gift and become a member of my guard."
Abrielle's eyes widen, her legs gave out, and she sank to her knees.
"Lelouch!" Euphemia's voice cut through the air, brimming with fury. "She will be watched. That will be more than enough," she took a deep breath and looked at Abrielle, who still lay on the floor. "You are dismissed, Lady Abrielle."
Abrielle looked like a ghost, her face darting back and forth between Lelouch and Euphemia. "Go!" Euphemia repeated, her voice sharper this time. Abrielle scrambled to her feet and quickly scurried out into the crowd. Lelouch watched her leave and laughed. Euphemia frowned, she had expected some kind of backlash from him for interrupting his humiliation of the woman.
"Did you see her legs buckle? I thought that woman would be made of sterner stuff," he shook his head in disappointment. "Johanna!" he called out to one of his black-clad guards. "Pour me and the Prime Minister some wine!" The woman materialized instantly, dressed in the same black attire as all of Lelouch's guards. Euphemia's eyes widened when she looked at the woman's face.
Clenching her dress tightly, Euphemia closed her eyes. But she still saw the woman, this… Johanna. In her late thirties, she had never been more beautiful, her indigo eyes were as bright as ever. She was lean and strong, yet retained a certain softness that men always seemed to admire. Johanna's hair was dyed, once a beautiful shade of fuchsia, it was now a simple and plain black. When she opened her eyes, Johanna was offering her a cup of wine. Euphemia grabbed it hastily, doing her best to crush in the anger that was boiling inside of her.
Why did he bring her? A voice shouted in her head. Another one laughed. Isn't it obvious? To remind us who is in control.
Cornelia li Britannia lived, yet she had perished years ago.
"Now that we've dealt with that troublesome Countess, why else did you ask for me?" Lelouch asked casually, climbing up on the steps to the vacant throne. Euphemia followed him closely, her mind still reeling. His face held a simple, satisfied smile that made Euphemia clench her dress harder and harder.
"You are my brother," Euphemia began in a calm voice, "is it a crime to want to see how my brother is? Especially when half his days are spent in dusty ruins, leaving me to run his empire,"
Lelouch laughed. "No, no crime at all. And if you wanted an update all you had to do was ask, dear sister," he said with a smile, but his eyes flashed a hint of frustration. "We've not made much progress, I must admit. Especially now that C.C is taking care of Nunnally."
Euphemia hid her frown with a sip of wine. C.C had not left Pendragon in years, not even temporarily. And all for the crown princess? She mulled on that thought gulping down her sip of wine. "As long as we keep V.V away, all will be fine," she said. Even with one code, V.V could still use the Sword of Akasha, per C.C's claim, perhaps he could not enact the Ragnarök Accord, but he could still usethe system for other purposes.
"Yes, it will be," Lelouch said quietly, Euphemia frowned. He sounded as if he was reassuring himself.
"We've discovered a few individuals from our past, ghosts of sorts," Euphemia said. Lelouch's attention was fixed on the gathering before him. Although most of the aristocrats had resumed their meals and libations, an atmosphere of unease lingered in the air. "Some more urgent than others."
"Is it Schneizel?" Lelouch asked suddenly. His eyes were wide and focused, still locked on the crowd of aristocrats before him.
"No. We've found Kallen."
The emperor's head snapped to Euphemia instantly, his eyes were still wide, but not in focus, but in shock. He took a step back, as if recoiling. His grip on the wine glass tightened. The glass trembled in his grasp, its fragile form protesting the force of his grip. Then, with a sudden burst of energy, he shattered the delicate vessel, sending thousands of small pieces across the room. The deep red wine within erupted from its shattered prison, spilling out, staining his regal white dress. Lelouch stood frozen, the hand that held the cup covered in a crimson red: a mix of blood and wine.
Lelouch's voice was a low. "That's impossible." The room's attention snapped towards the throne as he stood, his hand dripping with crimson. The clatter of silverware ceased and murmurs died out, leaving an eerie silence.
Euphemia turned to Cornel- to Johanna. "Fetch bandages and alcohol," she ordered, her tone firm. The woman with the vacant gaze nodded slowly and departed. Euphemia linked arms with Lelouch, guiding him calmly and steadily behind the throne towards a door.
As they moved, Lelouch winced, his injured hand throbbing with pain. Euphemia glanced down and saw the gash across his palm, blood seeping between his fingers. "We need to tend to that wound," she murmured, leading him through the door and into a private chamber.
Lelouch's gaze remained wide. The entire company of his guards followed them closely, each one keeping a watchful eye on Euphemia. They soon arrived at a secluded room, spacious and comfortably furnished, with ample space for the two of them and eight of Lelouch's black-clad female guards.
One of the guards, not Johanna, handed Euphemia a bundle of bandages and a bottle of alcohol. They all stood against the wall, motionless and silent, forming a perfect line, their vacant wide eyes still locked on to her, radiating a sense of danger. With a steady hand, Euphemia applied the alcohol to Lelouch's wound, causing him to wince in pain. She then covered the cut with the bandages, wrapping them tightly around his hand.
By now Lelouch had recovered. His back was straight, his eyes seemed more relaxed, but he held his head down in deep thought. "Are you certain? That it's truly her?" he asked.
"We received reports of her and the Guren's presence in Mongolia, where they successfully took down a squad of Inquisitors," Euphemia relayed firmly, her expression conveying the seriousness of the matter.
Lelouch's countenance was grim, and he countered with a hint of skepticism, "It could be a pretender, a mere impostor, nothing more. It would not be the first time some foolish woman impersonated Kallen."
"Lelouch," Euphemia persisted, her tone resolute. "It's her. The Guren is an old machine, but it's still the Guren. Todoh is working with her, and Suzaku suspects they are heading to Japan. He's already on his way there."
The urgency in her voice didn't seem to shake Lelouch, his eyes remained downcast towards the floor. "Japan? Why Japan?" he shook his head. "Yes, Japan. Of course, they would most definitely go to Japan."
Euphemia held onto his good hand tightly, her eyes fixed on his. "We have to stop her, Lelouch. She will push the empire over the edge. And who knows? She may not be alone. V.V or even Schneizel could be with her." She tried to redirect Lelouch's focus, anything to get his focus off it being just Kallen.
"Yes," he stood up, his dark eyes were slowly regaining their focus. "We need to stop her at the first turn. Suzaku is already in Japan, you said?"
"He's on his way there."
"Good. Good," he nodded, "I want you to expand the garrison around East Asia, also, move the Third and Fifth Army into Japan."
Euphemia made a mental note of Lelouch's reaction and spoke, her tone firm. "You need to leave for Japan immediately, Lelouch. Stay close to Suzaku," she said, gripping his hand tightly. "He's the only one we can trust. If the two of you work together, even Kallen will be hard-pressed."
Lelouch frowned at her words. "And why should I trust Suzaku?"
Euphemia did her best not to swallow, Lelouch's gaze suddenly intensified, and his eyes peered to hers like sharp blades. She tried to keep her composure, but his emotionless face and cold demeanor struck her. The room seemed to darken and grow colder, as if the very air around them was being sucked into his void-like eyes. Her throat went dry, and she struggled to breathe.
But she forced herself to hold his gaze, her grip on his hand tightening. "Because he's your best friend, because he knows how Kallen fights and operates," she replied evenly. "You need someone you can rely on, someone who knows you well. And Suzaku is that person. The years may have caused rifts, brother, but you can still trust him, even with your disagreements, "
And because I need to keep an eye on you, because I do not want you to disappear on us again like the last time.
After a tense silence, Lelouch nodded abruptly. "I understand. Have some Knights of the Round transferred to me, at least four. We need to overwhelm Kallen if we have any chance of stopping her," he said almost to himself. "Overwhelming, overwhelming firepower, it will be our best chance."
Euphemia exhaled a breath she didn't realize she was holding, relieved that Lelouch was finally taking action, but more relieved he had not seen through her actual intentions. Or perhaps he does not care, a voice whispered in the back of her head. With her lips pursed she nibbled on her bottom lip, her mind still reeling from Lelouch's stare.
The emperor stood up and straightened himself.
Euphemia's eyes were drawn to the young emperor's face, and a shiver ran down her spine. The young monarch's expression was hard and dark, a face that seemed to bear the weight of the world. The lines etched into the emperor's skin told the story of battles fought and won, of alliances forged and broken, of conquest, of fire, of defeats and triumphs. Euphemia stared into those piercing purple eyes once more, and that sense of unease seeped back into her. For in that face lay a determination and a ruthlessness that would trample over anything in its path.
She forced herself to breath, regaining her composure. Instead, she thought of Lelouch's initial reaction to the news. Kallen's return had unnerved him. It was uncharacteristic to see Lelouch so off-balance, she would have to take advantage of it somehow. But how far could she push this advantage? Her mind remembered the memories of Kallen, of that dangerous red-haired woman who had once shaken the world.
A monster in human clothing.
Kallen fulfilled her promise and brought back a collection of supplies: firearms, provisions, equipment, and: a board game.
She wore a wide grin on her face as she presented the Mahjong set to Jing, a young boy with a mop of black hair. Jing was so thrilled that he nearly bowed down to the ground. "Smile more, boy, girls will like that smile of yours," Kallen told him with a laugh after ruffling his hair. The boy's cheeks reddened as he ran back to Todoh.
"Todoh, can we play later?" he asked with stars in his eyes. Jing was usually very composed, but he occasionally displayed childlike enthusiasm that brought a smile to Todoh's face.
"Of course, but only after mediating," he said in a firm tone. Jing nodded enthusiastically sitting on his bed, staring at the board with wonder.
The group was now reduced to only four members - Kallen, Todoh, Jing, and Tamaki. Todoh had initially considered leaving young Jing with the rest of the caravan, but the boy's tenacity and enthusiasm won him over. Tamaki's decision to join them had come as a surprise, as he had appeared to be unhappy with Kallen's very presence. Despite her poker face, Todoh suspected that Kallen was very happy with his company, she cared for her old comrade deeply.
Kallen had insisted that they travel with a small group, and Todoh was grateful for it. Several members of the caravan had offered to join them, but Kallen had turned them down. Todoh understood her reasoning - they needed to move quickly and with as little attention as possible. Still, it was difficult for him to leave the caravan behind. He had been in charge of the caravan for seven years and had grown to love the members like his own kin. However, he knew that they would be safer this way. Once they made it to Japan, he would find someplace for young Jing as well.
Kallen's path was one of fire, and Kyoshiro Todoh was prepared to burn in it.
They were camped outside a city in Korea, they only traveled with one truck now, all for the purpose of carrying Kallen's Guren. A heap of junk, she called it, yet Todoh saw how diligently she worked in maintaining the old machine.
Kallen had gone into the city alone promising she would avoid trouble. He found it hard to doubt her. "Nobody saw you?" Jing asked as he ate from a bowl of noodles.
"Oh plenty of people saw me," Kallen said with a grin scratching the side of her nose. "I think some recognized me as well."
Todoh heard Tamaki choking from the other side of the room, Jing's mouth hung open at Kallen's declaration. Todoh refrained from sighing as he stared at her. Kallen's Geass made many things impossible things… possible. Geass. What an ugly power, a power he wished he had never learned of. A power he had learned in his days with the Black Knights.
Kallen stared at Todoh, still grinning. "Not to worry, nobody will report it, I'm certain."
He trusted her judgement. The memory of crossing the mountains into Korea was still vivid in his mind. Kallen had fearlessly approached an Inquisitor, walking straight up to him without any attempt at stealth. To his amazement, the Inquisitor had not even noticed her, despite scanning the area vigilantly. How had Kallen managed to evade detection? Her actions seemed to always lead to success. Was it mere luck? He recalled how she had played dice with some of the men in the caravan and had emerged victorious every time, so much so she had been barred from playing with them any further.
It did not make sense, and Kallen's own answers confused him further: "Life is just numbers, Todoh. A lot of numbers, but still numbers. Think of it like a big equation. You change one number and suddenly the whole thing is different, or maybe it's only a little different, depending on what number you change,"
"What are we going to do now, Kallen?" Tamaki spoke up, setting down his plate.
"I found us a boat. We'll be heading back to Japan tomorrow," she said distractedly, eating her food.
"Tonight?" Todoh asked, raising his brows. He did not expect to be moving so fast.
"Yes." Kallen smiled, "I won't waste any more time. And when we get there I plan to light the match," she swallowed her food, "Jing, pass me that bag in the back," she ordered the boy. Jing set down his noodles and quickly grabbed the bag, his eyes widened as he handed the bag - to Todoh.
Todoh's eyes widened as well. Tamaki noticing their reactions, peaked over the shoulder, he almost gagged on his food again.
"How?" Tamaki asked in shock. "This is the real deal, isn't it?"
Kallen nodded with a smile.
Todoh's fingers tightly gripped Zero's mask, the very one that Lelouch used to wear before his mysterious disappearance following the triumph of the Black Rebellion. Covered in a thick layer of dust, it bore the marks of countless tiny scratches, as well as a few larger ones that were easily visible from a distance. Marred and broken: but it was still Zero's mask. Lelouch's mask.
"Kallen, what do you intend to do with this?" Todoh asked.
Kallen smiled. "I plan to overwhelm them."
Author Note: With this, we've essentially finished the prologue of the story, the board is set, and now the pieces will begin to move. I've been having A LOT of fun writing the past week or so, and I hope I can continue. Thankfully I'm a pretty fast writer, this chapter took me about...an hour? So even when I'm busy I've been taking some time to write. Lelouch's character is really difficult for me to write, but I think I was able to do what I wanted. Euphemia left me a bit frustrated, but I think I'll be able to flesh her out more in her next POV. As always, I hope you all enjoyed something from my writing!