So here is chapter twenty-two. It is around now that, were this an anime, we would be seeing a change in opening and ending themes – sorry, I couldn't resist noting that. At any rate, this chapter means a lot to me, for some reason. It was one of the first chapters I had planned out, and it is also going to be one of the most important ones to date. To those with knowledge of the Three Kingdoms (and yes, the name is a play on Zhuge Liang's Longzhong Plan), this would be somewhere around the Red Cliffs time period (which is in no way due to the fact that the Longzhong Plan was created at said point in time). So yeah, this is an important benchmark to me. From here on, expect maybe another fifteen to twenty chapters, depending how I decide to chop everything up (current estimate is 36 to 38, with one more for an Epilogue).
And back on the topic of music, I actually had a little bit of trouble writing this, due to my insistence on making it perfect, and because I am a negative person I still refuse to believe it is by any means perfect. At any rate, my hunt for the perfect inspiration brought me to my playlist of songs from the Code Geass R2 OST. After much hunting, I found that the ideal song was The Master (to those unfamiliar with the actual BGM in Code Geass, The Master most notably plays at the end of episode 21). Suffice to say I spent the better part of my time writing this chapter while listening to a mixture of that, Mosaic Kakera and Waga Routashi Aku no Hana. Why is any of this relevant, you might be asking? It isn't. But I thought that if anyone were so inclined, they could try reading this while listening to those three songs. It was a perfect mood setter for this chapter.
--
The moon and sun had both taken their watches over the sky above as Lelouch worked tirelessly, the dark bags forming beneath his eyes the only sign of his exhaustion. It was little wonder as to why he would be so tired, of course. With the end of the war for control over Area 11, there had been many leaves of absences granted, identical to the ones Lelouch and his allies had returned from only two days ago. And with Xingke away to the capital to meet with the Tianzi, his duties and well as Lelouch's own fell upon the young commander. It had been a night full of signing papers, making sure soldiers had returned and working out the resignation papers of more than twenty. That fact had disheartened Lelouch a little, but with their army as it was, that twenty or so hadn't harmed them, although it may later down the road.
Although somewhat unwillingly, C.C. had stayed with him until early in the morning, when she too had given up on fighting the inevitable desire for sleep, retiring to her bed nearby. Lelouch ignored his mind's urging for him to do the same, immersing himself in the papers littering his desk. But as the sun rose and his only source of energy was cup after cup of coffee, tea or whatever else he could have delivered swiftly, he knew that his time was drawing near. He finished signing the last of the papers addressed to him, and then he retired to his bed, not bothering to remove his clothes as he fell into a much needed slumber. That night he dreamt of many things that had eluded his dreams for a long time. Dreams of his mother and his sister and the life they once shared at the Aries Palace. It was hard to imagine that it was just a short eight years ago that these fleeting dreams were realities, but that didn't make the dreams any less meaningful to Lelouch.
When he awoke the later that morning, not wholly rested but enough to get by, he settled right back into working. The object of his devotion was quite different this time, and far more meaningful; the supply rates of Sakuradite being mined from Mt. Fuji. The small bit promised to Britannia alone was enough to build a small army of Knightmare Frames, and the overall number was a figure much, much larger. It was a wonder that such a useful resource could be in such abundance. And even after setting aside the shares promised to Britannia, the remainder – although much of it was to be set aside for Lelouch's plans to come to fruition – was enough to grant them tremendous amounts of funding and other such things.
Noon had passed by a meager five minutes when C.C. finally roused herself, yawning slightly as she sat up, arching her back slightly as her arms pushed toward the distant ceiling. Lelouch gave her a sideways glance and a simple nod of greeting, turning back toward the computer screen of the laptop he had since taken out, going back and forth between it and the papers strewn all around it. "Ogi came back from negotiating the surrender of the independent Japanese factions hiding at Osaka Bay this morning. The Britannian operatives spying in the outlying regions of Kyoto were captured this morning," a pause, "Yes, we will be ready to take that action soon. ... Alright. Don't take too long; we need you back here soon." By this time C.C. had stood up and was making her way over to Lelouch, only then noticing the headset over his head.
"Will you ever be satisfied?" C.C. asked with mirth, smirking at the sight of what she felt inclined to call workaholic-Lelouch.
Removing the headset and casting it aside, Lelouch responded, "Will you ever do more than freeload?"
"I have no obligation to do anything, boy. Remember that."
"So long as I am the one you are bound to, you have little choice in the matter."
She seemed to consider that for a moment. "Beyond keeping you alive, nothing is my obligation. The rest are personal choices."
Lelouch chuckled, a light noise that C.C. had to strain herself to hear. His voice rose and fell as his chuckle slowly expanded into a full on laugh that soon proved to be contagious, as C.C. chuckled as well. At last Lelouch got his laughter under control, composing himself to such an extent that it was as if he hadn't laughed to begin with. "To answer your question, there is still much I need to do. To that end, monotonous things such as this is necessary. Does that satisfy you?"
With a shrug she said, "As much as I expect to get, from you."
Lelouch's eyes didn't leave either the laptop screen or the papers in front of him for another twenty minutes, always reading or always writing. It was a wonder to C.C. how he managed to maintain his cool doing such nerve wrackingly boring tasks, but it hadn't been the first time she had seen someone capable of doing it. Even so the task seemed far too monotonous for one with a low attention span, and C.C. was forced to occupy her time in variously despairing ways. She was surprised that she felt relieved when Lelouch finally made to leave his work, although that was short lived as the phone next to him rang a moment later. As if having expected it all along Lelouch casually answered it, skipping straight to the point by saying, "I will make my requests known soon."
A moment passed, in which C.C. took to observing the room idly; it was not as if she had anything better to do to pass the time, right? The walls had been repainted since she had last stayed in that room, now a light shade of crimson. The beds were larger and comfier – a fact which she could strongly and most happily attest to – and the furniture had been either removed, replaced or simply moved about. The room seemed entirely different from the room she remembered – an ironic thought that was, remembering things – and it had a more quaint feel, as if inviting you into its depths, like the soothing blaze of a fire in a family's fireplace at Christmas.
Call after call came in rapid succession of one another, to the point where C.C. had toyed with the idea of ripping out the phone's electrical cord more than once. Always Lelouch would answer it and, after a couple seconds' pause, would say, "I will make my demands known soon." It was a wonder to her how Lelouch could maintain his cool now as well, but C.C. didn't voice her questions. Rather, she enthralled herself in the interesting motions and other things Lelouch did as he went about his work. Like how when he was really focused, his brows would knit together and he would often lick at his lips. And when he was thinking, he would place his head in the palm of his hand, drumming his fingers against his cheekbone to a beat C.C. could only faintly remember. These were just a couple of the things that made up the interesting enigma that was Lelouch.
At long last, when all the calls seemed finished and Lelouch's work seemed complete, C.C. was just about ready to burst. For the past hour, her only solace had been in the distant hope of escaping the repetitive actions with more sleep. And alas, that hope eventually failed her. Stripped of that single hope, there had been nothing to do but wait out the boredom that enveloped the room. It hadn't bothered her too much until now, sitting around while Lelouch did the many monotonous things he did. But every person had a line drawn, and she, unfortunately, was no exception. Lelouch learned that the hard way as he turned around in his seat, only to be met by a cold glare from the witch.
"You..." C.C.'s previous observation played its role as Lelouch began idly drumming his fingers against his cheekbone, wracking his brain in search of the reason for her annoyance. But since the monotonous tasks that were boring to C.C. were necessary occurrences with no real problem whatsoever, he found no such reason. Scowling, he asked, "What is it?"
"If Charles doesn't kill you, all this working will certainly finish the job."
The thought occurred to Lelouch that the only reason she cared whether he lived or died was for their contract. It should have been common sense to him, it really should have been, but the thought actually sent a spike of pain through him. He started to get sick to his stomach at the thought. In order to test this theory he said, "I suspected all along I may die. I've been prepared to all along."
If the notion bothered C.C., she didn't show it. But what she said next hurt Lelouch just as much, "So long as you remember your promises, what happens afterward is of no importance to me."
The silence that followed was heavy, the true meaning behind it hidden to C.C., try as she might to understand it. Lelouch slowly turned around, his expression unreadable as it vanished from her sight. Typing followed as Lelouch dove into matters he had planned to set aside for later, filling out various things and reading through others intently. His focus diminished not, simply transferring from one object – C.C. - to another. Being ignored in such a manner managed to sour C.C.'s mood ever so slightly, and she yearned to break the silence, a desire she didn't know she had bubbling within her. But when several minutes passed with nothing but Lelouch's typing penetrating the silence, C.C. took matters into her own hands and snapped, perhaps too harshly, "What is your problem?"
Lelouch made no sign of having acknowledged her words, but his fingers slowed slightly as he said bitterly, "Nothing." He abruptly shut his laptop, unplugging the cord attached to its back and lifted it, piling the many papers on his table atop it and making for the door. Pausing just before it, he looked over his shoulder with an expression devoid of anything but the glint his eyes – contacts or not – always had. "Stay," he said, gesturing to the floor near where she stood, as if she were a trained dog that he expected complete obedience from. Which was ironic, given what lay beneath the contacts he wore.
"Lelouch --"
Lelouch's eyes flashed with barely restrained anger and his face contorted into an expression displaying barely contained rage, though he managed to keep his cool as he snapped, "Stay." Before C.C. could get another word in Lelouch was gone, storming off down the hall toward a different locale, one uninhabited by green haired witches. Various soldiers greeted him in the halls, though he gave them no more than a small nod or a mumbled greeting in return as he passed them by, pausing for no-one.
C.C. settled into the seat Lelouch had occupied with a wistful sigh, comprehension overtaking her suddenly. "Yes, I know," sighed C.C., looking toward the ceiling distantly. "It has to be done this way, Marianne." She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. "Do I love him? How could you ask me if I love a tool?"
o--o
The Avalon shook violently as an explosion – no doubt a rocket from one of the many Knightmare Frames below – struck its Port side, tearing the flesh away from the wide radius encompassed in the explosion. The Avalon was by no means a weak vessel, though. Rather, it was bordering on invincible. Its only flaw was in its inability to fight Knightmare Frames effectively, making it a sitting duck in such an instance. But the defenses and the armor coating the Avalon made it a very well fortified sitting duck. This battle could well atest to that, as the Avalon had been struck by rockets many times, five of which had all hit the Port side. These explosions started occurring less and less frequently as the battle progressed, however.
Down below, it was absolute chaos. The fight to take control of El Alamein had turned into one of complete carnage. Strategy was nearly nonexistant in the throng of back and forth changing of tides, Knightmare Frames throwing themselves at the enemy. The few that broke through the enemy lines and made for the city were wiped out by the overwhelming defenses placed upon the wall, obliterated by turrets or by the large bolts of polybolos and ballistae. Not even the best of strategists could turn the tide of such a siege, leaving their hopes in the fact that the enemy would exhaust themselves or in the eventuality of the enemy's main forces being run dry.
One might ask, was there a point to this bloodshed? The simple answer would be, not really. But that hadn't stopped Britannia before, and it most certainly wouldn't stop them from gaining control of one of the two enemy superpowers. To that end, every Sutherland that was destroyed and every pilot that was slain was worth it. The blood that had been shed was vast, but if the gain was worth it, then their deaths would be more than worth it in the end. But there were some who didn't believe that to be the case. One such man was the Prime Minister himself, Schneizel El Britannia. Which was, in part, why Kanon Maldini was once again putting his commanding talents to the test.
Schneizel, meanwhile, was elsewhere. Deep within El Alamein, in the basement of the government offices, was a small room. Within this small room, safe from the ensuing chaos outside, was Schneizel and the various upper rank officers of the Euro Universe. Warm cups of tea were shared and drunk at leisure, without any seeming regard for the world above them. Casual conversations sparked here and there, only to die out when a loud explosion rocked them. There were no hostilities present between the leaders of the E.U. and Schneizel, which was a sight that would have shocked most beyond words. In fact, Schneizel took a regularly active role in the talks going about.
"And then Graham, that lout! He nearly got me flogged for disobeyin' council's orders!" said one of the many men seated around the rectangular table in the center of the dark room; a certain Dean Welash, 3rd Division Commander of the Special Corps. He was a stout man of little over five feet, with a french moustache and low cut auburn hair, with a look of permanent annoyance to top it all off. He spoke with a mix of an itallian accent and a lazy man's slang, although it was clear to all that he was anything but either. "Th' point is, the damn council doesn't give two shits what happens down here, so long as their lives are safe and their pockets are full."
Schneizel chuckled, clapping his hands in an appreciative manner, "Men, I trust you all feel the same way as Commander Dean, here?"
"Damn right! The word on the streets is that Britannians killed the pacifist leaders, but we know its all a load of bull! The war mongers killed them, and their petty attitude now as all of us dyin' out here for no reason!" cried another. Walter Limmerson was a man of considerable influence no matter where he stood. Being the Vice-Admiral of all naval forces while being a mighty four inches over six feet tall, he was an imposing figure whether you knew him or not. He wore long brown hair in an array of braids that fell to his shoulder blades, and his sapphire blue eyes were glazed over with an icy coating that seemed to stare into your very soul, while keeping his hidden from all. The only quality to be frowned upon was his lack of restraint with words, and that was a quality many disliked him for. That, and his adamant refusal to recognize good service where it was due. "But why do you care, o' Prince of Masks? You come here, asking us to grant you an audience, only to make small talk! Are we so insignificant to you?"
"Its bloody disrespectful, I do say," the man to Dean's right said, a man with refined features and a cunning smile. His eyes were mere slits and his face was scrunched up into a scowl, a feature seemingly transfixed into those living with a surrounding that demanded constantly overworking one's self. Jet black hair fell to his shoulders and all over the right side of his face, the left side properly having been parted toward the side of his head. He was Fredrick Oblinski, a democrat from the British Isles. His influence largely came from that fact alone, being one of the few from the isles not within Britannia's society.
"Please, I mean no such disrespect." Schneizel stood, opening his arms outward in a gesture toward everyone present. "Rather, would it not be rude of me to come in here and cut straight to the business that you certainly don't want to hear? I have made small talk in the hopes of convincing you all that I am genuine in the kindness I wish to display hereafter."
"And what 'kindness' would that be?" Dean asked.
"An opportunity," Schneizel replied, as though it were a matter requiring little more than a passing glance, to be decided upon and then left forgotten in a manner befitting something such as a meticulous form or a random bill. Which, to a man as nonchalant and carefree as Schneizel often seemed to be, it was entirely possible that this was such a case.
"What sort of opportunity would you be presenting us with, Prince of Masks?" Walter spoke up rather unceremoniously. And with the disrespect of using the E.U.'s spitefully given name for Schneizel, to boot! But Schneizel didn't seem to care. In fact, he seemed amused by the name they had given him. A name fitting of the many faces he could place in different parts of his life – kind and sincere, cold and calculating, tactful and persuasive. These were all different faces of Schneizel El Britannia, an enigma deserving of the fatherly blood the flowed in his veins, to be sure.
"An opportunity to cast aside the chains of the insiduous council, to have your own will."
"You would dare ask us to submit to you?" Dean asked incredulously, with a firm tinge of anger mixed. "We will not submit to Britannia – that is why we fight. Now return home and prepare to fight us with everything you have, for we shall not be deterred."
Schneizel chuckled softly, shaking his head. "I do not ask that you submit to Britannia."
"Then what is it you do ask of us?" Walter asked.
"I ask you to submit to me." When all Schneizel got were blank looks and muffled questions somewhere along the lines of, 'Whats the difference?' he sighed loudly, bringing the room to a complete standstill save for his other hand, running through his hair. "Do not submit to Britannia. To my father. This world shall ultimately be doomed if you do. Instead submit to me. To Schneizel El Britannia. And fight. Continue to fight. Exhaust your every breath toward fending off Britannia. In Asia my brother Lelouch continues to grow stronger – if you use his actions as a distraction you can avoid disaster long enough to plan what it is you wish to do."
"And what would you do?"
"I will retreat my forces for now. But if in three days' time I have not heard from you, I will take El Alamein and swallow your country whole."
Dean sighed, "So you are Britannian after all – resorting to threats."
Schneizel shook his head, "I am not threatening you. But if we cannot come to an agreement, my hand will be forced. As it stands I fight in Britannia's name, and should we fail to come to an agreement that is how it shall remain." Schneizel left then, off to parts unknown while those still remaining sat in deep thought, pondering what he meant.
"Should we trust him?" Walter asked at last.
"Trust the Prince of Masks? That would be inviting disaster. But we should hear out what he has to offer." Fredrick Oblinski said, finally breaking his own silence. All eyes fell on him and studied him for a moment, as though judging the value of his words, before one by one they nodded.
Then Dean said, "Pull the troops back. We shall see where this will go."
o--o
The blaring music that often accompanied the arrival of the 98th Emperor of the Holy Britannian Empire died down as Charles Di Britannia took his place before the podium, his shoulders broadened and his eyes cold as he stared down at the tens of thousands of Britannian soldiers. Veteran soldiers of many hard fought battles in the name of complete and total conquest. Soldiers who had families and friends waiting for them far away, back on the homeland. These soldiers would not be returning there anytime soon, unfortunately. These were the reinforcement corps under the direct command of the Commander-in-Chief of all of Britannia's forces not serving the royal family, Lewis Eldrich, of whom there were surprisingly few – the bulk of the Britannian forces was commanded directly or indirectly by either Schneizel El Britannia, Cornelia Li Britannia or previously, Clovis La Britannia.
The soldiers were dressed in varying levels of military uniform, ranging from a single stripe on the left shoulder to a Britannian emblem over the heart and several stripes on both shoulders, and were likewise arrayed according to the importance of their rank. It was like looked at a gathered group of different high school cliques, all bunched together with those the same as themselves, almost afraid to associate with the others. And that was how it should be, Charles thought. Self advancement, one being better than the other, superiority and inferiority... these were all necessary elements that he openly embraced. Which was why no matter how annoying the soldiers below him looked, they were a symbol of what he believed in.
Charles slapped his hand thunderously against the podium, bringing every last soldier to rigged attention. They stared up at him with mixed expressions of fear, determination and blind loyalty – ideal soldiers, all of them. Charles pumped a fist into the air as he cried out loudly, ringing seemingly to the very heavens, "All hail Britannia!"
"All hail Britannia! All hail Britannia!" the troops began to chant, pumping their fists into the air to punctuate their loyal chanting. It continued for nearly a minute until Charles raised a hand to quiet them, bringing them to a sudden silence once again.
"Courage, valor, pride... these are the very essence of one's determination." Ever the type for a more solemn approach in his motivational and highly effective speeches, Charles opted to open on a more touchy note than usual this time, striking at the very core of what he believed to be a man's motivation. "So long as we display these things, success and failure are meaningless things, right? If we display these things, we can cast aside the worry of possible failure, knowing we fought our best?" Charles paused to grant his audience an unheeded opportunity to voice their opinion, after which he said, "That is a lie. We all strive for success. That is what humanity should strive for.
"But our foes do not! The power hungry Euro Universe cares only for their standing, and the Black Prince – my son – cares only for self justification. These are truths. They will lead this world to its destruction. Only our path – the path by which we will banish such lies as their's – is the right path! Only our path can lead this world to its future! The end of this long road is in sight. If we can crush the rebellious Black Knights, and finish reclaiming the land from which many of us have ties, our victory will be complete! Britannia will reign supreme!"
"All hail Britannia! All hail Britannia!"
"Fighting is the only way to end this! The intrepid Black Prince and his circle, the falling EU Council, both must be eliminated! To this end, the way of the Britannians must continue! Fighting, winning, conquering! This is what the ideal Britannian does best, and it is what we must continue to do! All hail Britannia!"
Minutes later, after the speech had been brought to its conclusion with a few parting words from the Knight of One, whom the Commander-in-Chief had once served beneath, and the troops had been dismissed back to their monotonous activities, Charles slowly began returning to the Great Britannia. It wasn't often he left Pendragon after all – and this wasn't the primary intent for his departure – and he had grown irritated by the prolonged time spent in the heat of the Middle East already. Near the gangway he found Bismarck waiting for him, leaning against the massive airship's hull with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes closed. They opened when Bismarck heard Charles' approaching footsteps and he made to bow, only to be stopped by Charles who waved a hand and said, "There is no need for formalities between us – we are partners, you and I, Bismarck."
"Yes, Your Majesty." Bismarck returned to his full height, at complete eye level with Charles. Though it hadn't been said, he knew his Emperor well enough to see the brief flicker of some remnant of emotion in his eyes. "Have we heard nothing from Lord V.V.?"
Charles' expression soured at the mention of his brother, as per Bismarck's assumption, "Brother has said nothing. I know not of his fate, other than that our connection tells me he is not in danger. But our connection also tells me he is in turmoil – his judgment is clouded, and his sight is wounded. He has lost his way."
"What do you mean, Your Majesty?"
"I mean, Bismarck," Charles pointed between them and he smirked, although it was clear Bismarck didn't believe there was anything honest about that smirk – that it was a formality that he put on such an expression when really he had no reason to do so. "I mean that we are partners. Brother can no longer be trusted, and he must be watched carefully. And we must act all the faster now, for Lelouch continues to dive into what he should not, and soon he will learn of our plans and will make his move. And if brother takes his side, as I fear he may, Lelouch will be ready to fight us – he already has the witch's Code on his side, though his hold over her is weakening."
"But if he gets Lord V.V., he will have both Codes. If that happens, we will have no choice but to involve your son." Bismarck seemed genuinely troubled by this, running a hand through his hair and fidgeting ever so slightly, although any other sign of worry was nonexistant. "He is a lot like you, Your Majesty. Perhaps he will sympathize with our goals."
"He will not."
"And why is that?" curiosity poked rather forcefully at Bismarck.
"Because it is as you said, Bismarck – he is like me. He will not be so foolish as to agree with anyone's ideals but his own. So long as he believes what he is doing has merit, he will not believe what we are doing is necessary."
"Is that why Lord V.V. favors him? What of Marianne's blood in his veins?"
"Lelouch is more my son than he is her son – V.V. sees me in him. If anyone can pose a true threat to us, it is him. We must do something about this – can I trust it to you, Bismarck?"
"But of course, Your Majesty. Shall we be heading toward Area 11 – I mean Japan, then?"
"Yes. We shall pay a visit to my foolish son."
o--o
This was how war and like maters were meant to be handled, Schneizel decided. What need was there for senseless massacres when you could achieve the same results through a well planned conversation? Why should you sacrifice thousands of lives on gaining land and territory when you could gain it all in one fell swoop using just your words? Any other method, necessary though they were at times, just simply didn't have the same effectiveness of a well planned peace negotiation. Weapons needed to be pointed at one another sometimes, and sometimes they needed to actually be used. But these methods – methods that, at worst, would do little more than strip a man of his ideals or some other nonsensical thing – were how it should be.
Schneizel was seated in his personal quarters on board the Avalon, looking rather pleased with himself as he signed his signature upon the piece of paper placed before him, on a low rise circular table with a lamp in its center. The paper held the signatures of five others – three of the men Schneizel had met with only two days ago, plus Kanon and Lloyd. His signature made the seventh, a finalized thing committing both sides to what they were about to do. Schneizel had to wonder if the future would be as bright as this was, but he didn't let it settle – so long as his plans kept coming together as they were, with him acting from the shadows like a good puppet master until the perfect time to strike came. So long as all went well, a desirable outcome wasn't far off.
"So we are all in agreement then?" Schneizel spoke at last, his eyes running over the paper before him again and again until he was completely convinced the scenario it entailed was one he was desireous of. It would mean a lot of the things he wasn't particularly proud of being skilled at, but the ends would justify the means in the end, surely. Even if he had to forsake himself to reach that end – that was part of his good intentions-paved road to hell.
"I don't like it, that much is for bloody sure," Dean spat, shaking his head. "But this is a damn good plan, and I'd sooner kill myself than pass up the opportunity to do this. If I must make these sacrifices, so be it."
"That settles it then." Schneizel stood up, moving with a feline grace to the other side of the table where Dean sat, and held his hand out. "For the future – a bright one at that."
Dean took his hand, nodding solemnly, "To the future."
It was later that evening – the time in between spent going over the many terms upon which their agreement would be made formal – when they finally settled upon an initial course of action. Ironically it was the course of action Schneizel had planned for some time ago, though he opted not to say so. There would be a televised confirmation of it all early the following morning, and that would be when it would all come together. The master plan for an ideal future. Tomorrow was to be a great day indeed.
o--o
"Schneizel will make his move soon. That ceasefire was not for no reason."
Lelouch softly drank from a tea cup filled to the brim with the lukewarm liquid as he spoke to himself between sips, his eyes scanning over the mountains of papers once again strewn across his desk. The devil on his shoulder was nowhere to be seen which, he thought, was just as well, since he had lately been growing more and more aware of the nature of her kindness toward him. It was a moment of foolishness on his part to have trusted her so freely, but now that he knew – and she didn't know he knew – he could guard against that front as well. There was an attack pending on that front for sure, and he would be ready for it.
Until then, however, he was rather focused on the matter at hand. Relations with Britannia weren't going to last – not that he wanted them to for much longer, now that the peace had served its purpose – and Schneizel would soon act, and he needed to be ready for both as well as his piling personal problems. He had to admit that C.C. was right in saying that he was digging his own grave, but he had acknowledged that from the beginning. But contrary to what he had told C.C., he wasn't ready to die yet. If it came to it he was prepared to die, but there was yet much that needed doing if he was to die happy. And because dying happy still had a special place in his heart and because dying with the world still in the rut he had currently placed it in, with him gone before he could right it according to his wishes, he couldn't allow himself to die yet.
On a table he had dragged close to his desk was a TV, playing some news report he didn't particularly care about – a wide shutdown of schools near the El Alamein front in response to the necessity of possibly needing to escape from Britannia – on a European news network that he knew would be the ones to first have their hands on what he was truly waiting for. It was only a matter of time before he would see Schneizel on that screen, spouting nonsense about one thing or another and of his heartfelt desire to accomplish whatever he had set as his goal. That goal wasn't of particular interest to Lelouch either, though he supposed having that knowledge couldn't hurt for future predictions of his older brother's moves.
"Students are in open protest of Britannia's intervention of their regular day lives, some going as far as to publicly burn Britannian flags in the street. There have been pleas that this in no way mimics the way the nation feels as a whole toward the Empire, but with extremities at their current high, disbelief of such statements are widespr --" the sight of a middle aged women dressed in a gray suit and sitting in front of a large desk disappeared instantaneously, replaced for a few seconds by static until another picture appeared, this one of a flag Lelouch had never seen, spread over a wall. In front of it stood Schneizel, a podium in front of him and looking miniscule by comparison to the flag, with its blue background and the image of a green snake, coiled around a tiny mouse with its maw encircling the head of the poor rodent. It was good symbolism, Lelouch thought, although it wasn't exactly an image one would want to remember as a superpower's symbol.
"This, brother, is not what I thought you had in mind," Lelouch muttered to himself, offering the screen no more of his attention than a crying child across a busy street would get – a minor annoyance at best, to be acknowledged and otherwise forgotten about. He listened however, offering his ears to his brother while his direct attention remained fixated on the papers in front of him. Requests for a supply dispatch to Kyushu to help exterminate a small uprising of selfish Japanese, a form of confirmation for handing over this month's allotment of Sakuradite to Britannia... they were lacking of any real importance, but they deserved more of his attention than his brother did at the moment. What his ears distractedly picked up was pretty basic, the opening preliminaries in which Schneizel would be securing his position by preaching the good will in what he had to say, that no matter how horrid things may seem on the outside, he did them with good intent and would accept hatred so long as he made people happier in the end. It was a bout of nonsense as far as Lelouch was concerned – he had no qualms over saying things he hardly meant, really, but Schneizel took that simple matter to a whole new level.
"... But we need to stand strong!" Schneizel was saying, his knuckles white from gripping so fiercely and so painfully onto the podium. "We cannot allow the world to descend further into madness! To that end, I wish to put an end to all conflict! But the only way to end conflict is with conflict, and so I ask you all – will you accept me? Will you fight to end conflict with me?" There was cheering and thunderous applause, and Lelouch could all but physically see the smirk on Schneizel's face. "Good! We shall cast aside our past, our worries, and look to the future! The New Federation of Europe! That is the name that shall go down in history as the heroes of an age of insatiable conflict! Not the Empire of China, not my intrepid father and the Holy Empire of Britannia! No! These two are powerful, but we can fight them – we can defeat those who spread conflict, and bring their conquests to a halt!
"But this does not mean we shall resort to their methods! This world must change through conflict – can only change through conflict – but it will not be ideal if we fight them on their terms! We shall stand strong, and we will prevent them from fighting! That is what this world needs! Not dominance, not supremacy, but equality! Is that not what we all seek – to be accepted unconditionally? That can not be achieved through their methods!" Schneizel continued to rant on for what seemed like an endless amount of time, preaching the same things over and over in increasingly different and increasingly persuasive ways. It was effective as a persuasion method, but on the stage the world had reached, it was a moot effort to achieve anything – that, Lelouch believed, was a solid truth.
When the speech had ended, Lelouch errupted into a menacing laugh. One so loud that anyone outside his door may have thought he'd finally lost what sanity he had left. The laughing lasted for a good two minutes before it died down to a dull chuckle, and Lelouch shook his head in a pitying disapproval. "Brother, you truly are a tragic hero. The world will hate you, and you still won't be able to change anything – you never can, with ideals such as your own." Then he clapped, as though the entire speech were a feat of theatrics made solely for his amusement. And perhaps, he thought, he had lost what sanity he had left – not that there was much sanity at risk.
As he turned off the TV the door opened to reveal Todo, who looked rather disgruntled and not thoroughly pleased – he had seen that speech, Lelouch decided. And true to Lelouch's assumption, the first thing Todo said was, "Did you see...?"
"That speech? Yes." Lelouch stood up, smirking as he removed one of his contacts. Todo stiffened for just a moment, a natural reflex that very few didn't have to the sight of Lelouch's bird sigil infused eyes. While placing his contact over his eye again, Lelouch said, "So long as we have this advantage, we have the element of surprise. Schneizel will, then, be a nuisance at best – a match for us tactically, but that is all. He is not worth our worry, Todo."
"Japan is still in turmoil, Lelouch." Todo crossed over to Lelouch until they were so close he had to look down to meet Lelouch's eyes, and there they stood in silence. Their glares pierced through one another, daring the other to present his point so that the other may tear it apart with a sort of irrefutable logic that both were more than capable of. Finally Todo relented, saying, "You know as well as I that Schneizel's words are sugarcoated, with the intent to make him a saint to smokescreen his intent. He cannot be trusted. And Japan still is not entirely our's, either! What if Xingke decides that there is more merit in siding with Schneizel? We will be fish out of water, without a home of our own and driven to a corner. We cannot take that risk."
He was good. Lelouch was willing to admit that much. If there was anyone who could match his own quick wit in such matters, it was Todo. While Todo was no match for him tactically, age and experience made Todo's ability to analyze things to the core just as good, if not better, than Lelouch's. It was for that reason that Lelouch respected the man as more than just a talented leader who could direct battles on a level that Lelouch didn't touch base upon often – namely, the ability to make quick decisions pertaining to someone's raw talents rather than making a calculated move as though it were a game of chess. Perhaps that was what made Todo his match in certain areas. They were both great leaders from different perspectives, both capable of creating miracles on different levels. While Lelouch's miracles were more revolutionary, Todo's were no less grand.
But then, Lelouch had a trump card against the logic Todo had brought to the table – his own quick wit in situations like these. "We won't need to worry for much longer – we need to make our move too."
"How long will that take us? If we give Schneizel time to solidify his position, then..."
"We will be ready in two days, if not less. Until then, can you tell Rolo I want him to keep an eye on C.C.?"
Todo's expression was one of mixed skepticism and confusion before he quickly reverted to his indifferent expression, composing himself before asking, "Why must we do that?"
"C.C. cannot be trusted – she is too freespirited, too self-indulgent. If we allow her to wander unchecked for much longer, we will regret it."
"But isn't she bound to you?"
"Only until I am of no further use to her. If she wanted, she could end things right now. But I won't allow that, and we need to keep an eye on her to ensure that is the case." Lelouch took a step back, leaning now against his desk as he ruffled his hair, sighing heavily. "Can I leave it in your hands, Todo?"
"If you believe that she cannot be trusted, I will believe you. But if you are lying..."
Lelouch waved a hand dismissively, "There are to be no more lies – our position demands complete honesty, Todo. Secrets are fine – everyone has them – but we must be unified from here on. Especially now, when Schneizel is breathing down our necks."
Todo turned toward the door, nodding in agreement. "I shall hold you to those words, Lelouch."
o--o
It hadn't even been a year since everything started. The Geass, meeting C.C., becoming Zero... Zero had been born only nine months ago, and he had died not long after. Like so many other things in my life, Zero was a facade I had to toss aside in my bid for what truly mattered. But... what did matter now? The world created by Zero, Lelouch Lamperouge's alter ego was one that prevented me from forsaking the path I have chosen now. There is only the road I have chosen, and it is a road to be walked alone. Becoming a saint, becoming a devil... both were inisgnificant matters now. So long as I achieve what I wish to achieve, how future generations see me matters not. If they wish to hate me, to see me as a monger who spreads conflict... that isn't entirely a lie.
And while it is far from perfect, it is still better than what Schneizel or Charles hope to create. What they desire is flawed – Schneizel wanting universal peace and Charles wanting a world without lies. Conflict and lies are necessary elements of a balanced world. Good and evil, light and dark, both sides are necessary to avoid complete and absolute corruption. To want to abandon that reality is to forsake any future. All people should desire a future, if nothing else. There must always be a tomorrow, one that is better than the today we live in. So long as we have that there is a flicker of hope for humanity. A flicker they are trying to extinguish.
It is for that reason that I now must fight ever harder. I must cast aside modesty and all other shows of humility, and I must take the place in the world that has been prepared for me. To create a new empire upon which I shall stand is what I must do, so that I may fight my father and my brother in a bid to change the world. I cannot fight them in the manner I have fought all my other foes. I must fight them on their terms, take the fight to them and overpower them on a field that is not my own. If to do that I must create hatred and malice in the hearts of those around me, I will do so readily – it is all I can do, now that they have steeled themselves with the determination to do the same thing. Schneizel especially, who has turned an entire country into a war zone of endless conflict simply to solidify his position. I must steel myself in the same way, to be willing to do what must be done for the greater good. To protect the people, people's names... I must be willing to destroy wholly if I wish to do those things.
o--o
"Hogosha now resting at two thousand feet!" Minami called out, satisfied as the Hogosha's rapid ascent finally came to a halt. But the rocking that had overtaken them long ago continued, threatening to assault anyone not completely used to the sensation with an urge to discard the contents of their stomachs. The unnaturally strong gust around them didn't relent, assaulting the ship at its most vulnerable points to maximize effectiveness in its attack. The ground below them seemed as nonexistant as though they were walking on air. The walls seemed to be as thin as sheets with the frigid chill of the command center that afternoon. After so long on the ground, these regularities seemed foreign to the members of the Anti-Britannian Front.
Lelouch stood toward the back, dressed entirely as Zero save for the mask itself, a formality he felt he should take to give an air of a more formal appearance. In fact it did have that effect, earning him a second glance from people passing him by, intrigued by his choice of clothing. Strapped at his side was a longsword, the sheathe in which it was held hiding it from view, although the sheathe made it seem as though the blade itself was three or so feet in length. The visible hilt was decorated with a raven, its eyes a piercing violet and wings wrapping around the rest of it and connecting at the other side – a fitting picture, considering who it was that wore the sword. This was the first telltale sign of the change he had made, a symbol of his self-proclaimed importance.
Around him was the ever familiar sight of people preparing cameras and similar equipment, something that happened so regularly now that it required no more than a passing glance from anybody not directly involved. The only thing that people really noticed beyond Lelouch's choice of clothing was the loss of his humanoid accessory – namely, the green haired woman typically attached to him in one way or another. She hadn't been seen by any but Lelouch in days, and even then he only saw her when she was returning to their room at night from wherever she had been prior. They had forcefully distanced themselves from one another, becoming the distant partners that C.C. said they were. Lelouch had overcome already the feeling of loneliness at her absence, eventually banishing her from his mind entirely. That was far easier than beating himself up over misjudging his ally.
With the exception of the most essential stations remaining in place, the entire room had been redecorated for the sake of this particular broadcast. Lelouch's chair was much larger, and there were five unoccupied seats surrounding his, each one of five colors, shades or metals; from left to right, they were red, silver, black, gold and blue. In just a few minutes Lelouch would be addressing the world in much the same way his brother had, and the room was fitting of that occasion – more importantly, fitting of what they had planned. A far more elegant look that was hardly necessary of the command center of a warship, but a look that was all too necessary in the creation of what was to be a throne room of sorts.
Tamaki was entertaining a group of girls with a card trick of some sort while they waited, awing the girls with what was inevitably a poorly thought of trick that, had he wanted to, Lelouch could have seen through with ease. And while he had half a mind to – the idea of such laid back behaviour taking place on a ship that should be the embodiment of all that was serious, formal and orderly – he didn't, because Lelouch recognized the need for such calming activities when the ship could once again be on the move toward a new battlefield at any time. Not even Lelouch could say for certain when that would be, and it was for that reason that he decided keeping people in good spirits may be best.
As Lelouch watched the happenings throughout the room, serious or lighthearted, his thoughts were, for once, clear. He was at total peace, a rarity for him, and a privilege he missed terribly, despite his desire not to. He was finally prepared to take a serious step and this was the time to act, and it was in that time that he found such solace as this. Being able to sit quietly and simply watch, like a being of omnipotence watching over those beneath it. His every breath was shallow and burden free, not tense and laboured like they were when he was deep in thought, or when he was in the midst of a game in which his mind needed to overtax itself, else he and all those around him would meet their end. Relief carried itself on these shallow breaths.
"Lelouch, is this the right thing to do?" Lelouch's eyes drifted toward the doorway where Xingke was standing, looking not entirely pleased. As though it were a rhetorical question he pressed on, careless of what Lelouch had to say, "Schneizel has turned the British Isles into a war zone, and they may not now peace for a long time. Is it a good idea to spur such change in the rest of the world? And how much support can we expect to get, with the world as it is?"
"We have to act now. The world will accept us, because we are those with whom justice sides."
"... Justice? You believe in things like that?"
Lelouch laughed condescendingly, shaking his head in a manner befitting of the amusement welling inside him from that question, "Of course not. There is no justice in war." Lelouch's laughing died out and his face took on a more solemn expression, sadness overtaking his features like darkness would overtake the light of the sun at night. "But most people do believe in justice. Be it for their own reasons, or because they need something to draw hope from. Those who believe in justice see it in us, the people who had tested the full extent of Britannia's power and defeated it thoroughly. The people to bring the war maching to a halt, and even push it back. Their saviors."
"You would use our good will as an excuse?" asked Xingke incredulously, raising one very thin eyebrow quizzically.
"Not as an excuse. As a reality of sorts – the people want us to liberate them from the war machine over the Pacific. What fault is it of our's to accept that?"
"Are we any better by using such methods? We would simply be taking Britannia's place."
"We wouldn't!" Lelouch cried, perhaps a little too hastily. He took in a few deep breaths to calm his nerves, the tension of his occasionally short temper building to a near-boil before he finally managed to dispel it. "We wouldn't... we won't replace that man. We will take the better path, but to reach that path, we must do this. If at any point in time you believe I no longer have this interest in mind or if this is no longer possible, I will dispose of myself."
"Is that a promise you can keep?"
"If I can't, you can."
Satisfied with that, or at least as satisfied as it seemed he would be, Xingke took turned away for a brief moment before walking toward the chair with the blue detailing and taking his seat. Not long after Jeremiah walked in with Rolo, exchanged pleasantries with Lelouch – mostly on Rolo's suggestion who, to Lelouch's mixed joy and worry, had grown quite fond of him – and took their seats at the silver and gold seats respectively. Karen and Suzaku weren't far behind, and as Lelouch exchanged greetings with them in a like manner, trying to keep a distanced and professional level, he could see technicians giving him a signal of okay for beginning recording. As Karen and Suzaku departed, Karen for the red seat and Suzaku for the center black seat, Lelouch gave them a nod before turning toward everyone else, who had ceased their games and other tasks to await what was to come.
Over the next few minutes well over two thousand people filed into the room, fitting themselves into the limited space provided. There were representatives of various countries that Lelouch had managed to draw in, officers of China's military and, by greatest majority, citizens from the Tokyo Settlement, people still living within Britannia. The diversity of those assembled surprised even Lelouch, who could hardly have expected such a good outcome in their preparations. These people were directed by either Ogi or Tamaki to different parts of the room, so as to allow there to be space for any new arrivals. But it quickly grew apparent that the space provided simply wouldn't fit much more at a comfortable level, and so after just four minutes they were forced to direct people to waiting rooms where they could watch from large TV screens.
"Lelouch," Suzaku had turned around in his seat, looking up at Lelouch with misty eyes and a despairing expression, as though he had just seen a ghost or had just had a premonition of some horrible thing, neither of which seemed entirely likely. "Will this really be doing the right thing?"
"It will be doing the correct thing."
Any further discussion, and it looked as though Suzaku had more to say, was cut off by the arrival of one of the technicians who pulled Lelouch off to the side, saying, "Everything is ready now. Shall we begin?"
"We shall."
Lelouch took his place and did nothing but wait. To his left the technician was taking his place beside the camera, counting down with his fingers to zero before pressing a button on the side of the camera and giving a thumbs up. Given his cue, Lelouch began what was to be a long speech rather simply, in the same dramatic fashion that he always applied. The dramatic fashion that, even to him, was growing tiresome to use. "Greed and supremacy..." he said slowly, almost under his breath, as though he were trying to cast a bad memory from his mind. "These are elements of a world that is not ideal. These are things that should not be looked upon with reverence and granted applause, but things that should be frowned upon and cast aside. To be greedy is to seek self-fulfillment, to want nothing but what is for you – is that right? And supremacy, dominance, superiority – should anyone be any of these things? Should one person stand above all, as a god?
"No, that is wrong. People strive to be superior, but should we put such focus onto whether we are better or worse? Society builds itself upon a hierarchy by which even those inferior have a place, a use, and are thus superior in that regard. What right has Britannia to force the world into a state where only those inherently superior have worth? What right have they to deny everyone the possibility of advancement, to better themselves, to become superior themselves? I stand before you as an example of that – someone discarded by His Majesty, the 98th Emperor, who has evaded his judgment and reached to where I now stand. Should not every person have that same opportunity? The opportunity to achieve greatness with what they have, to become superior themselves? That is the right that this world deserves.
"Similarly, does Schneizel El Britannia have the right to do what he does? To preach ideals he cares nothing for, to turn a fraction of the world into his enslaved dominion? The British Isles lay now in ruins, a mere memory of its past brilliance. A country of war and strife, that is what he has created. He will pacify the country and then set his sights inevitably elsewhere, betraying his oath to simply remain defensive. He will do no such thing – he, like Britannia, must be stopped. And who does that leave to stop them? Can the many nations of this world hope to fight them and win? No, not even we can hope for that. Can we hope for Britannia to reform, and allow it to do as it pleases? Not even the integration of the Japanese can help them atone, and so I say they are beyond such redemption! There is no desirable future with Britannia! And so I lay before you all this proposition; an alliance!
"The Empire of China shall, under my command, hereafter become the United States! With the Empire of China as our first state, we send this appeal to the world – join us! Fight with us, and we shall be strong enough to fight. Fight with me, and Britannia will fall. Fight with me, and Schneizel shall be brought to justice. This world can be returned to its former splendor, if you but side with me!" Roaring applause finally broke his monologue, filling the room with a torrent of cheers and clapping so loud that Lelouch feared for his hearing for the briefest of moments. He finally resigned himself to a moment's pause when the sounds of approval ceased not even after several minutes. Among other things, it was a sign of the popularity of his plan, which was a great relief to him. At long last he would be in the position he needed to be in to truly begin his battle. The world would be at the tips of his fingers before long, to weave and distort into the world he desired it to be.
Though receiving unanimous agreement and support would have been too much to ask, naturally. Lelouch had expected there to be a few who felt it necessary to contest his right to distort the world in such a manner, and while Lelouch found the sentiment noble, he hadn't exactly been too enthused by the possibility of them speaking against him. And so when several people cried out that he was trying to build his own power and that his words were no more trustworthy than Schneizel's or Charles', it had taken him several seconds to formulate a response that wouldn't press others to test him in the same way.
"I can ensure you that my words are true! Grant me some time, and I will show to you the extent of our power, and that my desire to fight Britannia and Schneizel to the end is true! I shall do so with nothing but the power with which I presently hold, and my five knights!" cried Lelouch, glaring daggers toward the offenders, one after the other in what he hoped was a threatening and thus convincing manner.
"Your knights?"
"The Five Knights that make up the aces of our army, to combat the Knights of the Rounds that we shall inevitably face someday." At that the five seated around him stood as he announced them in turn, "Li Xingke, my Blue Knight!" Then Rolo stood, "Rolo Haliburton, my Gold Knight!" Next to stand was Jeremiah, look haughty and all too pleased with himself, "Jeremiah Gottwald, my Silver Knight!" Following him was Karen, "Karen Kozuki, the Red Knight!" Lastly was Suzaku, standing rigid at attention, as though being berated by a superior, "And the head of the United States' Five Knights, Suzaku Kururugi, the Black Knight! As five people above all others, these five have the distinction of being rivals to the Knights of the Rounds, answerable only to the highest ranked and, thus, among the most skilled pilots in the world!"
--
So, as I said, this isn't exactly ideal in my eyes. But it will suffice, until I decide to go back (should I decide to) and alter it to make it flow better. Hopefully this will do. If not, well, I'm not exactly fishing for nothing but support anyway. I expect criticism.
