The last scene of last chapter didn't sit well with me. I think it may just have been the interaction between Lelouch and C.C., but something about it just didn't feel right. That actually gave me a fair bit of trouble, and I went back several times and rewrote it before I simply gave up and left it as is. Perhaps I'm just overthinking?
And while we're talking about things I'm unsure of, this chapter has a fair bit of stuff that could technically be considered unnecessary content, namely everything involving Suzaku, with some exception. But I decided to include it to give a view of that rather than limiting it to what is being told to Lelouch of what is happening, which is worse as far as I'm concerned. This is the last battle that could be considered unnecessary, though; the rest are decisive fights Code Geass is known for.
But enough of that. Reviews require my attention too, after all.
While I was pleasantly surprised by the amount of reviews I got (even if it was at the risk of sounding like I was fishing for them), I can't help but feel insulted that I'd be compared to Sunrise and it's general likeness for resurrecting random characters on a whim. While I cannot deny doing that, I will have you know it was a one time thing and I will not be making a habit of doing it, like Sunrise clearly has (damn Guilford; not that I dislike him, though). If at any time somebody dies, it is safe to assume they are dead. It's a pretty basic concept that Sunrise has made unnecessarily complicated, really.
To answer noian's question, it was not Fleya, Freija, F.L.E.I.J.A or any of the other half a dozen different translations given to the blasted warhead – no pun intended. I don't recall how far technology into the field of regular explosives had progressed in the Code Geass universe, but in terms of relative strength it could be best compared to the USA's MOAB (Massive Ordnance Air Blast Bomb, Mother of All Bombs, whatever you want to call it). Honestly, that was not all that relative a factor in that event, and I hadn't given a whole lot of thought to it.
But since that was brought up, I will stress again: Technology in Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion R2 will, by general rule, not be present in this fic. This means no F.L.E.I.J.A, no Damocles, no breaking the speed of freaking sound with a random float system variant, nothing. Note that Bismarck and Luciano have both piloted Vincents; this is the standard KMF amongst the KotR, and virtually the extent of Britannia's upgrades in KMF technology. Wards may make a brief and limited appearance, but the fact remains that, in the scope of this fic, R2's technology didn't exist. The only reason Wards would make an appearance at all is to even the playing field, seeing as I've already brought in the Akatsukis. Otherwise, I shall repeat one final time for good measure, that technology will not be present.
Sometimes, though, I wish the season as a whole didn't exist. Ah, the high hopes I had for the series at the end of season one...
This settled it. Whatever part of Lelouch it was that made commanding seem like such an easy thing, Suzaku had not been blessed with it. Sitting on board the Hogosha while everybody else was fighting below – Longdans along the water exchanging fire with several Britannian warships, KMFs lined along the waterfront providing cover fire, and VTOL units soaring through the air while the Guren protected them en route to the opposite river bank, where the Britannian main line had been drawn – was absolutely dreadful. He could not sit still, for one, and the fact that he had no idea whatsoever what to do certainly made things more difficult.
His only support was Todo, whom Lelouch had appointed Vice-Commander and the army's tactician, who had created the entire scenario now being carried out. Suzaku had to admit it looked like a well thought plan, with the enemy forces held at bay by their naval forces while the VTOL units carried a task unit around to strike at the enemy from behind, but it didn't make him feel any better. His seat, however comfortable, felt constricting, and he longed to be on the frontlines with the rest of them, confirming for all to see that the Black Knight was not one to hide behind his men the moment he was given an important position.
"They are trying to spread their line out further west," Todo commented, looking between Suzaku and the board in front of him, where a radar of the surrounding area showed several of the ships in their fleet in their right flank – from their view – trying to move further to the right. "Their commander is not an idiot, but this plan will not work if the foe is made aware of it."
Suzaku wondered what the plan was exactly; the only advantage spreading their line would have would be to spare them from receiving widespread damage from enemy assaults, at the risk of limiting their own offensive effectiveness. Realistically they could try to advance on the opposite river bank where the Hogosha presently rested, but with KMFs lined along it such a course would not be particularly wise.
With that question resting on the tip of his tongue, Suzaku moved over to Todo's side to watch the radar. He jumped a little when one of the arrowheads representing signals suddenly disappeared, replaced with a red sign that read, 'Signal Lost,' even though he had seen it many times before, in the heat of battle. Predictably it should have been one of the enemy units, that wouldn't have been uncommon, but what made him raise an eyebrow was that it was one of their Longdan battleships. "What's going on?" he asked, gesturing to the no longer present Longdan's position.
Todo frowned, tapping his index finger on the edge of the table while he watched the radar closely. "Both you and Lelouch seem incapable of realizing that no plan is without it's risks. Even the greatest of plans will result in casualties; warfare isn't as it once was, where a well timed ambush could decimate the enemy without any real casualties to your own side. We live by something called the numbers rule."
"The numbers rule?"
Todo nodded. "Generally, the side with more men wins. That is what modern warfare is, and Lelouch's methods most closely resemble an attempt to revive the ways of old, where a mind was greater than a sword."
"He's been successful so far," Suzaku noted, irony striking him in that they were outnumbered in this very battle – Ogi having been dispatched with half of their army to Egypt to keep an eye on the fortifications at El Alamein left them shorthanded where troops and KMFs were concerned.
"Perhaps," Todo conceded, the naturally rough edge his voice carried standing out with rare force. "But going into battle expecting that a well placed ambush or a devastating tactic will decide the battle is, while not entirely without merit, foolish to believe in alone. Valor, strength of will... these things can overcome the greatest strategy, if they are properly used."
"What do you mean?"
Todo frowned, probably disliking the necessity to explain so thoroughly, though Suzaku was aware that he was far too respectful to directly say so. "The battle in the Shinjuku ghetto was a good example. Lelouch had decimated Britannia's forces with no regard for anything except moving his men in ways that allowed them to overcome the greater numbers they faced. But then you appeared on the battlefield, shattering his plans and almost routing his troops."
"I had the Lancelot, though," Suzaku said. "The Lancelot was the first Knightmare Frame to so dramatically surpass the Sutherland, or any other for that matter."
"But you frowned upon terrorism," Todo's voice betrayed no disapproval of his previous stance, even if they had technically been enemies at the time, "and showed a genuine desire to put a stop to their activities. Right?"
Suzaku nodded, leaving the statement unanswered. "What does that have to do with this, though?"
"Necessary casualties," Todo replied casually, gesturing to the radar again. "They will be routed before long. So long as we keep their naval forces from escaping, this will not take much longer."
o---o
Ashford Academy, Britannia's finest insult to what remained of Japanese culture, stood no more. In it's place was nothing more than rubble, like a building that had been caught in the crossfire of a particularly violent engagement – there were probably dozens upon dozens of buildings that looked the exact same back during the Second Pacific War. There were bloodied bodies lying all over the place, all wearing the black uniform or the beige girls' uniform of Ashford Academy. Students who had done no wrong, dead by the thousands over a feud between him and... somebody.
Lelouch swore to define 'somebody.'
Next to him, as indifferent as he was to the destruction, C.C. whistled quietly. Most of the destruction left stones in little more than tiny shards on the ground, but here and there the sight of a body crushed by a larger piece could easily be seen. Lelouch knew he was beyond being bothered by a sight such as this, but in a distant way he still felt responsible. It had been he who started everything, after all...
No. That was wrong. He had started a revolution, purifying the world that had been contaminated by Britannia. He had not set out to see such attrocities committed – it was these very things he set out to stop. He was not the one at fault here.
"Nunnally is in here somewhere," C.C. murmured, casually digging her foot under a nearby body and rolling it over. To Lelouch's inexplicable relief, it wasn't any of his friends, but rather somebody from his Britannian Cultures class; he couldn't even recall the guy's name. But then again, the likelihood of the first person they inspected being somebody he knew on any sort of personal level was unlikely, even if he was the Vice-President of the Student Council, that was arguably more popular than the President was.
"That is what they said," Lelouch replied solemnly, kicking over another body. This one was a girl, with long black hair and a pale complexion, though the latter detail could simply have been because of being dead. Blood was smeared and dried to her face, and a large gash in her forehead seemed to have been the cause of death. At least she probably would have been dead before she felt much pain, Lelouch noted.
"The damage is too severe," he stated as they began climbing over the larger pieces of stone, making their way further into the ruins. In the distance, the Student Council building was still standing, but because the attack had taken place while classes were in session, this did nothing to guarrantee the survival of his friends. "If they were targetting Nunnally, they didn't care about the other lives they took in process."
"You assume they were?"
Lelouch nodded, waving his arm around them in a slow circle. "This was obviously a shot against me. The question is, why would Nunnally's death benefit them?" The depression that normally would have consumed him when he spoke of her loss was minimal at best, and he found himself able to speak of his dear sister's death in an almost casual manner. Was he really so far gone from the compassion Clovis had instilled in him?
"You want revenge for this, don't you?" C.C. asked, more rhetorically than Lelouch appreciated. She didn't even pretend to be surprised by the way his mind worked; it was an unspoken knowledge between them that she simply took in stride. Damn witch.
"Of course I do," Lelouch replied instantly. "Schneizel, the Emperor... One of them is behind this."
They continued down a rubble-free pathway with dying grass lining it. Previously, before everything was destroyed, it was probably part of the academy's garden, or perhaps the lush grass that surrounded the academy. It was hard to tell. Blood was splashed everywhere, whether there was a body nearby or not – with the sheer number of students, more often than not there was a body – and if they didn't have proof to the contrary Lelouch would have presumed this kind of destruction was done not by a bomb, but by man.
Bodies were turned over as they were found, provided there was enough of them left to be distinguished – there wasn't always. Students he knew, many he didn't, and even many of the teachers were found in turn... but none of the Student Council members. This both relieved and worried Lelouch; on one hand, they were alive. On the other, there was so little warning before the attack that they wouldn't have had time to escape, which meant they would have had to have been helped by someone. It was who this 'someone' was that bothered Lelouch.
"You've done this too, you know," C.C. said, breaking the uneasy silence that hung between them. Her expression was neutral, as could be expected, but her eyes held an intensity as they bore into his own that made him shiver – and it wasn't cold, either. "You have made people suffer like this as well, whether you intended to or not."
"I always protect the people," Lelouch replied heatedly, glaring at her. She didn't flinch, though he didn't expect he to, and flipped her hair over her shoulder casually.
"And yet there are people that hate you," she replied, shrugging her shoulders while she rolled over another body. "Some see you as their savior, but Britannia sees you as their treasonous demon. I am sure there are bedtime stories that speak of the Demon King Lelouch, and how he will attack by night and steal away everything they hold dear, like the world did to him."
Lelouch's mouth fell open; he knew there was some opposition to what he did, but it was generally vastly outweighed by the respect and adoration most people showed him. Granted, the Chinese had begun to distance from him slightly now that Xingke was dead, and they saw him more as a beneficial overlord rather than a savior, but the fact remained valid.
But Demon King Lelouch? Was he really that bad to some people? Could he really scare children to sleep simply with his exploits, his many conquests and his overwhelming successes against Britannia?
He frowned petulantly, forcing the thought from his mind while he continued to survey the bodies all around them. There would be time to wonder just what Britannian children thought of him later, after they were done looking for survivors and his friends. His eyes went from body to body, finally landing on the one C.C. had most recently rolled over, and was still staring at. Nearby was a wheel, and not much further away from that was a wheelchair, broken in two pieces, more or less a perfect split down the middle...
"Nunnally!" he shouted, crashing to his knees at the side of his frail sister's body, lifeless and bloody. Her uniform skirt was torn at the ends, there were several cuts made into her top, and all but two of the buttons were missing. Her face was mostly intact, with several small cuts on her cheeks and blood dried all over it, covering her lips and her forehead and her cheeks. Compared to some she got off relatively easy, but there was no denying that she was dead. And by the looks of it, she had died slowly, painfully.
"Nunnally..." he whispered as he embraced her cold body, tears running down his face. His body shook as the tears claimed him – never had he felt so weak, so helpless, as he did when he was holding the lifeless body of his sister, whom he had sworn to dedicate his life to caring for. Her body was frigid, devoid of the warmth that he had looked to for comfort so many times in the past. While he had brooded, looking for ways to improve their situation in life, she was always satisfied knowing he was with her. Never had she openly requested anything but his presence, and her warmth had been one of the only things keeping him from falling into despair during their desperate teenage years.
As soon as the tears stopped, his saddened expression was replaced with one of such rage that C.C. actually took a couple steps away from him, raising an eyebrow. He met her eyes and said in a slow, seething voice, "I will make this world pay for her death. This twisted world will know this pain, C.C., I swear it."
o---o
That idea of seizing important cultural buildings, no matter where they were, was a useful plot; Schneizel knew this, and utilized this knowledge openly. And thus it came to be that the official capital of the Federation of Europe was the majestic Sacré-Cœur Basilica, formerly a Roman-Catholic church before Schneizel exercised his authority and molded it into a palace of sorts, though it was still a church in all but functional purpose.
A very useful location, it oversaw the rest of Paris from atop the Montmartre hill. And with the Saint Pierre de Montmartre having been turned into a base for the capital's main defensive forces, it was a highly secure location as well. Schneizel was no fool, after all; in a world where his name was cursed behind closed doors, there was sure to be people bold enough to attempt to secure their realm from his clutches. And though he now had the power to begin repairing what he had done, it would be a long time before people could come to accept him, if they ever would.
The Sacré-Cœur Basilica had been outfitted with much defensive weaponry along it's many edges and walls, such to the point that the once reverred basilica was now little more than a military fortress, with strong fortifications and a despot Lord residing within. No longer was it a holy ground that deserved respect, but rather an insult to religion, a remnant of a magnificent church for those with christian beliefs that had been distorted nearly beyond all recognition. It's name hardly suited it – Basilica of the Sacred Heart? Hah! - anymore. In fact, the only thing of significance remaining at the basilica was the statue of Joan of Arc.
The inside of the basilica, while unchanged in appearance, served an entirely different purpose. Many of the rooms had been turned into offices and living quarters, furnished accordingly, and the sanctuary had been turned into the throne room. The altar had been completely removed of everything that had formerly occupied it, replaced with a large throne, made from a shining golden wood and lined with golden embroidery, with a red velveteen seat. The pews remained, instead serving the purpose of seating the many nobles and puppet leaders that governed over the various regions of their large nation.
Schneizel was seated on his elegant throne, his elbows resting on either arm and his hands resting over his stomach, fingers laced together. The room was empty at the moment, and many of the nation's leaders were in their respective regions, but he was expecting a particularly interesting visit shortly. Mao would be returning soon, and while Schneizel was already aware of the favorable outcome, Mao had a way with words that would make the outcome infinitely more satisfying. At least, Schneizel thought so. Mao was an interesting man, after all. And his seemingly unconditional hatred for Lelouch and his supposed accomplice made him an easy man to control.
"Lloyd," he called, knowing the man would be lurking around somewhere nearby. "Did we get confirmation of her death?"
Lloyd's face poked out from behind the throne, his lips curving downward in a frown rather than displaying the wide grin or the depraved smirk he often wore. "Yes," he said quietly, his voice lacking the cackling enthusiasm it usually had. "Her body was found in the ruins. It seems Lelouch has found her as well."
"Perfect."
The moment they finished speaking, the doors at the other end of the throne room flew open, Mao striding in with a grin on his face. His sigil-infused eyes bore a distinct satisfaction, the long bangs that usually fell over his face pushed to either side, pressed behind his ears. "Mission complete!" he called dramatically, employing a very Lloyd-like hysteric humor, dashing across the room. Even the fact that he was being assaulted by all of the thoughts around him didn't seem to bother him anymore – Schneizel suspected hearing the same sort of thoughts all the time was easier to deal with than hearing many different voices and things everywhere he went.
"Good job," Schneizel replied, unlacing his fingers and clapping his hands. "And the hostages?"
"Got them!" Mao cheered, gesturing to the doorway where soldiers were holding the members of the Student Council, all of them bound at the wrists. "By the way," he added, "I don't appreciate being called easy to control."
"Oh?" Schneizel hummed, a smirk making it's way onto his face while Mao continued to approach. He was beyond being bothered by Mao knowing his deepest of secrets; he didn't particularly have any to keep, anyway. "Our terms were that I would give you Lelouch and you would give me your power. That being said, I do control you."
Mao nodded, shrugging his shoulders. "Well, whatever," he said dismissively. "So long as we get Lelouch and C.C., I don't care."
"We will," Schneizel promised. "Lelouch is not a rational thinker when emotions are involved. With Nunnally dead, he will think of nothing but avenging her. And that means he will either come to us or to Britannia. Either way, we need to be ready to make use of the situation."
Lloyd's head once again poked out from behind the throne, now grinning like the insane scientist he was. "Cecile and I have finished replicating the stolen designs for the Vincent," he added, stepping out fully from behind the throne and throwing a very exaggerated thumbs up in Mao's direction. "It's white, just like you specified; why you would is beyond me, but that's irrelevant. You want to give your new toy a test run?"
Mao laughed like a child in a toy store, catching the activation key as Lloyd tossed it to him. "I left Lelouch a little... hint, to help him figure out who killed his dear sister," he said finally and casually, ignoring the eyebrow raise he received from Schneizel. "Breaking him is fine with me, but nobody gets the pleasure of taking him down but me. Those were our terms."
With a wave to Lloyd and a brief but polite nod of the head to Schneizel, he rushed off to try out the new toy their expert scientist had created for him. Oh, the look on Lelouch's face when he learned he was alive would be priceless! And with this new Vincent, he could actually measure up to Lelouch in a fight. Provided, of course, that he stayed within range to read Lelouch's mind.
Schneizel smirked and glanced at Lloyd, who looked just as pleased that their new ally liked his new toy. "He will defeat Lelouch for us," Schneizel said, "and then we will conquer Britannia. This world will soon know peace."
o---o
The Congo River was red with blood, mixing with the clear water and tainting it. Suzaku knelt by the water's edge, swiveling his finger in it's depths before pulling it away and inspecting the light red tint it had acquired. The sight of blood did not bother him, nor did the knowledge that he had headed a battle that had killed so many. Their victory was decisive, placing the entirety of the Congo River under their control and driving the Federation of Europe from Central Africa; it was spectacular, in a way that reminded Suzaku of Lelouch's more dramatic victories in times past.
But Lelouch had not been in charge of this attack. He had not played a part in it, and they had still won so easily. So completely. Was the need for his mind no longer there? Suzaku appreciated that fact, but Lelouch falling into obscurity would not do either. Lelouch was so much more than a military commander, after all, even though his standing as the United States' King did little to say so. They said he was a military commander and a man who oversaw the authority everyone else had, but the reality was that he held all the cards. Those who believed they had any real power were being mislead.
This victory had been one that they could claim was their own. Like at California, the United States' army had not relied upon their King to lead them to victory, as they had both in China and in Japan's restoration. Kyoshiro Todo, the assumed Vice-General of their army, had been heralded as the hero of Africa for their monumental victory. And Suzaku, even though he was often grouped with Lelouch on account of being the Black Knight, had been praised as well, although it seemed common knowledge that he had played little part in their victory.
Behind him, soldiers were binding the captives, among which was the enemy commander, Kanon Maldini. Todo had not destroyed the enemy fleet, as Suzaku thought he would. Instead they had simply surrounded the enemy fleet, cornered their G-1 base, and forced their surrender. Todo had said that the enemy commander had wanted to continue fighting, strangely enough, but the enemy fleet had surrendered without a second thought. Some even turned on their allies, siding with their assailants and helping to take control of the surrendering ships. The yield of supplies and other equipment they got from the battle was tremendous.
Ogi and Tamaki, with the forces under their command, had repositioned themselves so as to properly establish a supply route that supported both armies. The enemy position at El Alamein was the only thing standing between them and complete control over Africa, and a victory there meant that Schneizel would be forced to come to the frontlines at Gibraltar to stop them from pressing into Europe. So long as they were not caught by some unforeseen force at either of these locations, their conquest of another third of the world was not far off.
Which was a funny thing, really. Before the days when Lelouch Lamperouge was a world-widely known name, world unification was seen as a distant dream even for Britannia. Successes in Africa were limited, and they had a standoff with the Euro Universe in several places. The Chinese Federation had thrived on it's own corruption, and the world had been as divided as ever. And then Lelouch had come along, wearing a flashy outfit and a mysterious mask, declaring himself to be a revolutionary that would destroy Britannia.
At the time, his words had seemed idealistic at best. But within a few months of his appearance, he had scored several victories against Britannian forces in Area 11 and moved on to the Chinese Federation where, slowly but surely, he was disguising himself as India's ally while conquering and reforming the country. And then he had returned proudly to Area 11, saving the people who believed in him most and forming a superpower that matched the strength of Britannia fully. He had made the distant dream of world unification a disturbingly simple matter.
"Lord Kururugi, may we have a moment of your time?" Suzaku looked over his shoulder, where two soldiers stood at attention, their left hands at their foreheads in a rigid salute. Even though Lelouch had not demanded such formality, it seemed reflexive for them to show formality to any other. They were each wearing the complete uniform of the Black Knights, with a black cap keeping all but the ends of their hair hidden from view, and a purple viser doing likewise to their eyes. Both had brown hair, and one was taller than the other by several inches, though both were taller than Suzaku himself.
"Of course," Suzaku replied neutrally, rising to his feet and wiping his bloodied finger on his sleeve. "What do you need?"
"Sir Todo wants you to be there when we meet with the enemy commander," the taller of the two informed, dropping his salute. In time with one another they stood to the side, gesturing toward where the prisoners were. Nodding, Suzaku allowed himself to be escorted to the prisoners by the guards. His highly unnecessary armor clanked loudly as he walked, a telltale sign of his approach to anybody who recognized the sound. Many of the prisoners were bound, seated on the ground while soldiers rounded up the rest and stripped them of all weaponry. There were well over one thousand prisoners.
Near the prisoners already bound was Todo, holding a bound Kanon by the shoulders. Kanon's face, oddly beautiful though it was, bore a look of fierce rage. He stubbornly struggled against Todo's hold even though it was painfully apparent that doing so would get him nowhere, and two soldiers standing on either side of him routinely hit him with the ends to the rifles they held in their hands.
"This is..." Suzaku murmured, getting a good look at Kanon's face. "You betrayed Britannia with Schneizel?"
"Says the traitorous Lancelot pilot?" asked Kanon incredulously, and even Todo sent Suzaku a slightly disbelieving look. Surely his word was worth more than that... right?
"His point is valid, though," Todo added, nodding his head as though he were paying attention to the grateful look Suzaku gave him. "Why would you betray Britannia?"
"His Highness' will is to be obeyed," Kanon replied casually, betraying the furious look on his face. "Compared to His Highness, my loyalty to Britannia means nothing."
"I see," Suzaku replied evenly. And he did, in a strange way; he knew how convictions could overcome the fiercest of loyalties, given the right conditions. He himself had succumbed to his convictions and his friendship with Lelouch, betraying Britannia and utterly dooming it's only hope of halting the uprising of Zero.
"Do you?" challenged Kanon, his voice anything but sincere. "Do you know what it means to have faith in somebody, to believe that no matter what wrongs they commit, following them is the only way you could possibly live? Can you serve Lelouch without ever doubting him, without ever wondering if there were a better way?"
Suzaku was floored. Never had he been so bluntly asked such an important question. Having condition-less faith in Lelouch? Suzaku was ashamed to admit that he thought such a thing to be impossible. No matter how good Lelouch could be, there were times when he fell to his baser desires, using calculating methods that were anything but humane. Schneizel was no better, of course, but Kanon at least seemed to have accepted those evils. Suzaku could not say the same thing.
"I suppose not," Kanon continued, reading the blank look on Suzaku's face. "Serving Lelouch will bring you nothing but disappointment. Even now, he cares for nothing but avenging the destruction of Ashford Academy."
Suzaku staggered backwards, quickly and harshly grabbed at the arm by Todo. "Ashford...?" he murmured. Had such a terrible thing really happened while he was away? And if so, why had Lelouch not told him? What had happened to their friends? Their former classmates?
... To Nunnally?
o---o
Hushed tones spoke of the vast change in Britannia, simply three days after the ascent of Odysseus U Britannia to the throne as Britannia's 99th Emperor – several simply considered him a replacement to the 98th, but the fact remained that a new era had begun. Be it on account of the new Emperor's inherent cowardice or on account of his surprisingly gentle soul, Britannia had been changed utterly.
One would think that so much change would anger the populace, or at least the nobility, but neither was the case. Never had Britannia been more united. The Numbers system was slowly being changed from one of an oppressive distinction to being a rank in society equal to that of Britannia's citizens. Already, the natives of Britannia's colonies in South America and Russia had been granted full rights, imprisoned natives given pardon and returned to their families, and thousands of others offered rank either in the military or on the political scene as a show of good faith.
Already, the name of Odysseus U Britannia was praised as readily as his half-brother's, the King Lelouch Lamperouge. The natives of Britannia's colonies hailed him as the Savior Emperor, the first Emperor in many generations to so openly show kindness for them. Those beyond Britannia's borders sought refuge within the large nation, hoping to escape the escalating conflict between the United States and the Federation of Europe. Many would laugh when they made the connection that Britannia was now a safe haven from warfare, but it didn't change the fact that many considered His Majesty to be the best thing to happen to Britannia in many decades.
If there was anything to be frowned upon, it would be his boundless compassion. Already His Majesty had forsaken all good advice, sending diplomats both to Tokyo and to Paris in the hopes of bettering his relations with his half-brother's. As benevolent as he was, Odysseus U Britannia follishly clung to the hope that his brothers would come to their senses. Preferably, he would think privately, before one of them killed the other.
On top of peace missions and the nation's reformation of it's stance toward it's colonized regions, Britannia had expressed a most personal interest in the recent destruction of Ashford Academy. While it seemed – and was openly said – that Odysseus simply wanted to find means to prove that Britannia was not involved, so as to avert potential disaster related to the death of pseudo-Princess Nunnally, there was not a courtier unaware of His Majesty's worry for his half-brother. His every attempt at proving Britannia's innocence was a thinly veiled scheme, reeking with the intent to aid his half-brother in delivering justice for his sister's death.
There was no real way to fault his compassion, though. Even the nobility, who had once thrived on Britannia's oppressive tactics as a means to further their own influence, had been pacified by many opportunities to do the same in this new, more peaceful Britannia. There were few who could say honestly that they disliked this new era in Britannia's history, and many of those few were presently being subjugated in many national defense operations headed by His Majesty himself. Perhaps he was not the timid coward who ran to Prime Minister Schneizel at the first sign of a problem, any longer.
The throne he occupied was not filled poorly, as one would have expected but three days ago. With his father's broad shoulders and a determination to match, Odysseus U Britannia had taken Britannia by force and molded it, not unlike what his half-brothers were doing to the rest of the world. They were entering an era that would be bloodier than any before, where the royal family of Britannia would contend with one another for full control of the world. And never had anybody been more terrified, Odysseus himself included.
"Lelouch won at the Congo River, huh..." he murmured, cradling his head on the palm of his hand. He knew not just how powerful Lelouch and his army was now, but it came as no surprise to him that they surpassed Schneizel. Powerful as he was, the changing times had proved that the days where Schneizel El Britannia was the finest tactician Britannia knew was fading. He was falling into obscurity, replaced by the growing strength of Lelouch Lamperouge. Odysseus knew he could match neither, just like he knew that Britannia had not a single man who could contend with either on an intellectual level. They had Britannia by the throat in that regard.
"Yes, brother," Guinevere replied stiffly. While considerably smaller than her brother, she was no less imposing, with a commanding aura about her and a naturally formed sneer that said, "I'm better than you, and I know it." Which was entirely true, and all too fitting of the greedy woman. Her hair, a pale mixture of gray and violet, fell around her shoulders and blended with the dress of the same color tightly clinging to her every curve. The amount of cleavage was something one would dare call excessive, but in the case of Guinevere U Britannia it was not so much enticing as it was a further sign of her holier-than-though nature. And it suited her well.
Standing next to her was Carline Le Britannia, whom many considered to be the Yang to the late Nunnally Vi Britannia's Yin. Where the exiled princess was compassionate to a fault, with boundless love for all that lived, Carline Le Britannia thrived on her love of war and conflict. Amongst the former Emperor's many daughters, it could be said that she, in close race with Cornelia Li Britannia, was most like her father. She stood proud even though she reached only to the bottom of her half-sister's bosom in height, with firey orange hair pulled into two pigtails on either side of her head by two yellow bands. By comparison to her sister, though, she could hardly be considered a princess. While noble in appearance, her clothing was casual at best, wearing a more regal variation of a standard blouse, red pants that made her thighs look far larger than was probably necessary, and high rising yellow socks beneath strange looking purple boots. Indeed, she was the black sheep of Britannia's princesses.
"And how has Schneizel responded? Have we heard no word from the diplomats we sent?"
Carline stiffened; she was the unofficial leader of the minority of nobles that disapproved of Britannia's more moderate policies, and she made no effort to hide it. Guinevere sent her a contemptuous look from the corner of her eye, but otherwise remained completely professional. "None yet. Incidentally, Lelouch has given us his reply: in exchange for recognized control over our base at California, he is willing to agree to a mutual ceasefire. Naturally, we cannot expect him to hold this up once the war with the Federation of Europe is through."
"I see..." Odysseus whispered. Though it would be weak of him to say so, he had expressed no interest in reclaiming their base along the Pacific. No, that body of water had seen enough conflict since their annexation of Japan. And while the base was integral in their defense of the mainland, he was confident that their many bases throughout California, particularly around Sacramento and the Sacramento River, would suffice in their defense on that front. "I will accept those terms," he said at last, "but when the last of the insurgents in York County have been subjugated, our bases in California will need to be reinforced."
Yes, it could be said – truthfully – that Odysseus hated war. He sought peace at every turn, using violence only when no other alternative presented itself. This was not on account of his fondness for his half-brothers, but rather on account of his nature. He had always been this way, or so Guinevere would say, and it was both a quality and an insult to Britannia's nature at once. Oftentimes, discovering which was more apt a description was a task in and of itself.
But even so, he was by no means a fool. He realized that while he preferred peace, Lelouch often solved his problems through conflict. It was a means to an end, perhaps, but the young King was not so far gone as to see it as only that. And were relations between their two nations to fall apart, Odysseus knew better than to expect Lelouch to hesitate because of his half-brother. No, Lelouch would never do that again, now that Clovis was dead. Bless the man for his sacrifice, but it saddened Odysseus all the same to know that his dear half-brother would not hesitate to cut his throat open.
"Also," Guinevere continued, catching Odysseus' attention, "Joseph Fenette has recently disappeared. Without a trace, at that."
Odysseus' face left his hand and he folded them in front of him, elbows resting on the arms of his throne and his chin resting atop them. "His daughter went to Ashford, right?"
"That's right," Guinevere said, nodding. "We have tried, but have been unsuccessful in finding a connection between these two events."
"Hmm..." Odysseus hummed, trying to make sense of it himself. While he didn't know Joseph on a personal level – not many in the Emperor's court did – he did know that he was a rigid and dedicated individual, and that his disappearance was a most strange event. The way Odysseus saw it, his disappearance could be explained only by something related to his daughter; even though they were a sea apart, he always had been at her every beck and call.
"And we have no way of confirming if his daughter is alive?"
Guinevere frowned, probably growing tired of the meaningless questions placed before her. "As has been said, no body was found. But with an attack of such scale, there is no promise that the case is not simply that there was no body left to be found.
"We did, however, find this," she continued, and held out a small piece of paper, torn around the edges and splotched with blood. Some of the words were still recognizable, but most had been either blurred by nature's effects on the paper or by the blood; it was a miracle it was still in one piece. "Little could be learned from it, but the letter seemed to be particularly angry, and it was addressed to Lelouch from somebody who named themselves 'M'."
Odysseus pulled out his cell phone, dialing a number he had called only once before, and that had been to alert the person in question of his activities in Japan at the site of the ruined Ashford Academy. Lelouch picked up after the second ring, mumbling a despondent, "Hello?" into the phone. He was either extremely saddened, or very tired – Odysseus didn't want to know which, because each was depressing in it's own right.
"We found a letter in the ruins of Ashford, Lelouch," Odysseus replied smoothly, taking the letter from Guinevere's cold grasp and reading it over himself. "Do you know anybody who has a grudge against you?" Odysseus realized only too late that such a question was infinitely idiotic.
But despite himself, Lelouch managed a laugh at that. "I believe so," he murmured. In the background, a distinctly feminine voice could be heard chuckling, as though something that probably shouldn't have been humorous at all was the most amusing thing in the world. Odysseus feared he never would understand the strange, psychotic people his half-brother associated with.
"Anybody who would use the codename 'M'?" Odysseus asked, reading the cryptic letter over and over again. Nobody he knew would use such a codename, but then again he didn't know many people who needed a codename to begin with. In fact, he knew none at all, if he wasn't mistaken. That was always a good thing.
He was met with silence. Silence, and that mysterious chuckling in the background. Lelouch's voice was heard distantly, saying to the woman that was present, "Do you think he could be alive?" only to be met with another chuckle and, as Lelouch picked up the phone again, a soft noise that sounded like the ruffling of clothes. Odysseus decided to ignore the accompanying noises from now on.
"I think I know," Lelouch replied tensely. His voice was thick with emotion, somewhere between sadness and rage; a unique mix only Lelouch could effectively pull off. "Leave it to me, brother. I will set everything right."
This chapter was a little shorter than the last few have been, but I'll forgive it because it nicely sets the stage for next chapter which, like this one, will be named after one of Code Geass' songs. It will be one of the three climactic battles this fic has left, and one I've been wanting to write for a while now – mostly because it allows me to employ my presently rusty love for tactical warfare. At any rate, it may take me longer to write it than it has been taking lately, and it might not. I say this because to be honest, I don't know how fast I'll feel like writing it.
I just don't want people breathing down my neck because I'm not rolling out another chapter days after the one before it. Not that I expect it to take weeks, because that's a bit excessive. But I'll not rule out the possibility until I know it's impossible. Is that alright? Good.
