"So, tell us, Cornelia, what is it that you... do out there?"
Odysseus was attempting to sound diplomatic, to break the ice, to stimulate conversation. The look in his eyes held nothing but amiable cheer, an intent gaze leveled in his younger sibling's direction. Yet across from him, Guinevere sat looking supremely bored, and Cornelia could tell right away from the look on her elder sister's eyes that any answer she could give would go right in one ear and out the other... and despite Odysseus's apparent interest, the same was true for him as well.
"I fight. To protect the glory of the Empire." Cornelia responded simply, taking a cursory sip of the Argentine cabernet sauvignon- she had no desire to imbibe enough alcohol to feel the effects, but it would be rude of her not to touch the vintage, either.
"Do you really think that's necessary?" Odysseus inquired further. Yet again, his tone and expression couldn't be more respectful and genuine, yet the nature of the words themselves held an unmistakable hint of condescension.
Cornelia paused a while, and Odysseus would hastily correct himself before she had a chance to speak. "I-I mean, of course someone has to do it, but you, in particular, the danger, and as the Second Princess, surely-"
"It is a risk. I agree, Odysseus. Not just for myself or for the nation- it also increases the danger to my unit, because I am such an attractive target for the enemy. There are certainly better pilots out there than myself, and certainly better generals. And in either case, I am a less effective general because I must pilot, and a less effective pilot because I must lead. So, certainly, my presence on the battlefield creates certain liabilities that an ordinary soldier's would not." Cornelia idly swirled the wine in her glass, as she thought.
"More than that, it is beneath your station. As much as Father goes on about survival of the fittest, he doesn't mean that literally, Cornelia." Guinevere stated, shaking her head as if she were correcting a child. Of course, in Guinevere's eyes, all of her siblings would always be children... and her world-weary, uncaring attitude was a result of a lifetime of seeing her earnest guidance to children in desperate need of her correction refused and resented.
"On the contrary, Guinevere. I was just getting to that. My presence on the battlefield creates certain liabilities, but it also creates certain benefits, not merely to my unit, nor even to the campaign, but also to the Empire. In fact, the latter is perhaps the primary reason why His Majesty permits me to fight."
"Propaganda." Schneizel's voice was impossible to ignore, even from across the room, as the Second Prince returned from the washroom, tucking a handkerchief into his breast pocket.
"Don't be crude, Schneizel, that's such a brutish term for it. I would call it 'public relations'." Odysseus harshly rebuked his younger sibling, in an attempt to defend Cornelia from what he saw as an unwarranted accusation, yet as Schneizel retook his seat, Odysseus's smug smile would gradually become a confused frown when he saw that he, not the Second Prince, was the subject of Cornelia's disapproving glower.
"Public relations are pretty little press releases stenciled on Pendragon stationery and fed to the reporters like hors d'oeuvres." Cornelia began, and Schneizel sat back, folding his hands across his lap in evident satisfaction, though his face betrayed no emotion. "Propaganda is more meaningful than that. Propaganda is something that doesn't simply tell the facts, it stirs one's heart. Press releases don't put bodies into recruiting lines, and they don't sell war bonds, and they don't put shame in the heart of the shirking laborer, the cowardly soldier, the spy, the saboteur, the defector. Without propaganda- without a taste, for every Britannian, of the glory that is our Empire, and the meaning behind the Emperor's words, Britannia has no greatness in her. Propaganda is used as a buzzword, meant to be derided by our enemies as heavy-handed manipulation, wherein the truth is distorted, but I would say that propaganda is where the most raw and, occasionally, brutal truth about the Empire is to be found. The people want to feel that they are a part of something great- that everyone, princess or peasant, is sharing in the labor- and the sacrifice- of building the glory of the Empire. That is why I fight, Odysseus."
Schneizel smirked, lifting his wine glass in Cornelia's direction. "I could not have said it better myself."
Cornelia's glass clinked against his, and as her lips went to its rim, and just a heartbeat before she downed the entire glass in one reckless gulp, she would add, "Also, I like to blow shit up."
...
One spit-take later, and after a close call on Schneizel's part, Cornelia had decided to leave the First Prince's estate- Guinevere having already fled the room after slapping Odysseus, and staring daggers at Cornelia, after the former's oral outburst had soaked the front of her ten-thousand-dollar dress in five-thousand-dollar wine. Not, of course, that she cared about the cost- she could have another one just like it in an instant- but she was once again astonished by the utter immaturity of her siblings, and had expected Odysseus of all people to hold it together...!
Schneizel, meanwhile, had stayed to assist his elder brother with dabbing out the wine stains on the front of his tunic in the men's room, and the two of them were even now sharing a hearty laugh regarding the Second Princess.
"She's trouble, Schneizel, you need to watch out for her." Odysseus chuckled, untying his cravat and resting it upon the marble countertop, pulling out one lapel, then the other, and inspecting the interior for any stain that may have resulted from runoff.
"Trouble? Cornelia? She's Father's favorite, you know." Schneizel smirked, holding a moist handkerchief up to dab at one such pinprick of scarlet staining on his brother's collar.
"And that's why I'm telling you she's trouble. Because she doesn't realize that yet, and she's in for a time of it until she does. It's ironic, really- the same reason the Emperor favors her is the same reason why she would dismiss such a thing. She considers it irrelevant. The rest of us know how sadly mistaken she is."
"I'd like to see someone try to manipulate Cornelia. You could easier manipulate a lioness away from her cubs, now that she's got a brood of her own to protect." Schneizel replied, straightening his own collar and offering his brother a flask of Cuban aftershave. "Here, try-"
Before Schneizel could finish, Odysseus nodded his thanks, unscrewed the cap, put the flask to his lips, and-
...
"Easy, Odie, easy now." Schneizel steadied his brother's back with one hand, and began to wipe down the mirror with the other, shaking his head. "I tried to warn you."
Between coughs and dry heaves, Odysseus would stammer his reply, "Who keeps... aftershave... in a..."
"Come now, Odysseus, you know that a bulging pocket is unsightly. I simply reused a container. You've already had quite enough to drink tonight, anyway."
"I think... more liquor's come out of me than gone into me, but I appreciate the concern, Schneizel." Odysseus finally rose from the sink, shaking his head and reaching back to comb some of his now-wild hair into his signature combover. "But your point was still somewhat... off. Cornelia may believe herself to be the rightful guardian of the young Lamperouges-"
"vi Britannia, Odysseus. Lelouch and Nunnally vi Britannia." Schneizel corrected him.
"... The young children of Lady Marianne, yes, and she may very well be, but... all these responsibilities, the defender of Britannia on the battlefield, the defender of a brood of vulnerable young royals at home, and at such a young age..."
"She's not much younger than you were, when Father took the throne and you became his heir apparent, you remember." Schneizel added, and Odysseus gave a dark chuckle.
"Ah, yes, and what a disaster that was. I'm quite happy to have that responsibility lifted from my shoulders by the rising star of the House of Aquarius." Odysseus gave a slight grin over to his younger sibling, who would shake his head.
"I'm no star, Odysseus, and I never asked for all this attention."
"Alas, brother," Odysseus began to wax poetic as he clapped a hand upon Schneizel's epaulet, "this is a burden neither of us can share with the other. One of us must bear the full weight, or we'll both be crushed. Then, history will long revile the lazy misadventure of two princes who threw away their father's crown... I'm happy to play that role on my own. You always were the more responsible of the two of us, Schneizel."
"Responsible, hm? No, I'm simply good at looking the part." The two brothers exchanged a brief glance that carried a decade's worth of mischief and glories that would never reach the ears of civilized company, and exchanged a grin after a moment, and then Schneizel would add, "That dress looked better with the wine stain, anyway."
"Didn't it, though? Perhaps I should take after Clovis and start a fashion line. Ugh, I am not looking forward to hearing it from her tomorrow..." At this point, Odysseus would roll his eyes back and open and close his hand in imitation of a mouth feverishly jabbering away at his ear.
"Now, now, Odysseus, you're not suggesting Guinevere's going to be bitter about this, or something, are you? When have you ever known her to hold a grudge?" The two brothers shared another laugh, as both reveled in the sheer absurdity of Schneizel's sarcasm.
"I'd watch my back, Schneizel, she's probably trying to have you killed." Odysseus meant it, too.
"Well, no harder than she was trying to do the same to you, and not to offend, Odysseus, but I think you're a much softer target. Forgive me for not being worried..."
"Still... It's that type of person that Cornelia needs to watch out for. The exact type of person Cornelia believes to be harmless... she doesn't see through the camouflage like you or I do. She doesn't see what vipers await her in the grass."
"That's because she stays the hell out of the grass, Odysseus, because she's smarter than she seems. I'm more worried about Lelouch than any of the others. Seems like that boy is much too eager to go poking around in snake dens."
"Weren't you the one who sent him to Father's doorstep to confront him directly? I swear, Schneizel, if I didn't know you better I'd have pegged that as an attempt to bump him off right then and there-"
"Firstly," Schneizel interrupted, "I did not send him, he made his own choice, and if I had tried to stop him, he would have been all the more determined to go. Secondly, he did damn well for himself."
"That he did. Don't think the rest of the court didn't recognize your handiwork, though. Guinevere especially, and... I suspect, Father as well."
"You would be surprised how much of that was him, actually. I was thoroughly impressed as well." Schneizel confessed, fastening his cufflinks.
"Well, then, I still think that boy only adds to Cornelia's burden..." Odysseus furrowed his brows in concern, as Schneizel nodded.
"I'm sure she'd agree with you on that... and if he's allowed to stew here in Pendragon for long enough, he'll find himself involved in something far more dangerous than either of them realize. And I'm not simply talking about the Court." Schneizel added, in a somewhat lowered tone.
"... Yes... that is a... delicate matter. Have you heard anything of late?" Odysseus's look of mere brotherly concern had vanished moments earlier, replaced by a look of grim contemplation.
"Father's attention increasingly seems to be diverted from secular affairs. The last conversation I had with him seems to indicate that he intends to vest considerable increments of authority in his offspring. ... You know the man as well as I do, Odie. He's not doing that out of the kindness of his heart."
"If he even has a heart." Odysseus murmured, placing his hands on the counter and shaking his head. "So, what, then? Is he dying? Going mad? Or has he truly stumbled upon the secret of life, the universe, and everything?"
"Forty-two..." Schneizel muttered.
"Pardon?" Odysseus inquired.
"Forty-two years ago, our father lost someone very dear to him. Prince Victor. Our uncle."
"I'm aware, I believe I've seen photographs, didn't he have some sort of-"
"Disease, yes. Confined to his chambers since age nine, after that he was never seen outside of them until the day he died... forty-two years ago last April. He's been cropping up more and more in my inquiries. If I had to make an educated guess..." Schneizel turned to glance at Odysseus, a grim look on his face. "Whatever Father is doing has something to do with our late uncle."
"What, bringing him back from the dead? Are you certain you're all right, Schneizel? Do you need to sit down, perhaps?" Odysseus reached over to touch his brother's shoulder, only to be rebuffed.
"It can't be coincidence, with how all my lines of inquiry seem to reach a dead end when it comes to Victor. Forty-two years ago. Something happened that day, something that Charles has been attempting to keep covered up ever since. It's maddening because it's right in front of my face. People who should have a memory of what happened draw blanks. Their memories are... foggy, somehow."
Schneizel paused, as Odysseus stood in silence, staring at him thoughtfully, before continuing on... "Odysseus, do you ever feel that something was... off... about your memory of the Empress's assassination?" Schneizel inquired, and as Odysseus was about to dismiss this notion out of hand, he would begin to speak... and then pause.
"... Well... no, of course not, but..." Odysseus began, then paused. "When you... mention it, there are... minor inconsistencies. It was a stressful event for everyone involved. Memories are imperfect, Schneizel, you know this..."
"I know, I know. Forgive me, brother, I shouldn't have laid all this upon you. I'm probably not thinking straight and it'll probably all come to nothing. But the more I think about this the less well it sits with me." Schneizel paused, taking a long sigh.
"Then perhaps you should think less about it, and worry about more immediate concerns. Even if Father intends to dabble in sciences not meant for man, who's it going to hurt if he ends up making a mess of things? Worst case scenario, he blows himself up in a lab accident, All Hail Emperor Schneizel." Odysseus chuckled, giving his brother a raucous elbow in the side, which prompted a dark grin from the blonde sibling.
"Don't joke about that, Odie, that would mean I'd have to start looking for an Empress." Schneizel shook his head, while Odysseus took on a brief look of thoughtful consideration.
"... You don't think Cornelia-"
"NO, absolutely not."
"She'd be perfect for the part."
"You're right, she would, which is exactly why I wouldn't dream of it. If anything, I'd give her the throne before I'd make her my wife."
"Now there's an idea..." Odysseus's eyes briefly lit up with mischievous intrigue.
"An idea for another time, Odysseus. If I recall correctly, you were supposed to be catching a flight to Hong Kong this evening." Schneizel patted his brother on the back, as Odysseus opened up his pocketwatch and glanced inside, before nodding in an expression of hurried gratitude.
"Yes, it would be bad if I missed another of these engagements..."
"Yes, it would. Especially considering that I specifically apprised their Foreign Minister that it would not be happening again and gave my word, so I suggest you get changed and get going..."
"Yes, your Majesty." Odysseus mockingly harrumphed, as he strode out of the restroom, chin held aloft.
"Oh, shut it, Odie. I'm not there yet, and even if I were, I wouldn't make you call me that."