(Thank you to Aminta Defender, Sunny, MetalDragon, Adronio, WrandmWaffles, Rakkis157, and Aemon for their services as beta-readers and editors. I'll be blunt: I'm not... hugely in love with this chapter. I tried to do a few more things with it, and none of them worked out. The chapter's also a bit shorter than I would have liked, but... Well, it is what it is, and as one of my beta-readers pointed out, perfect is the enemy of good enough. So, thank you for your patience.)
JULY 13, 2016 ATB
STADTFELD MANOR, TOKYO SETTLEMENT
1725
Kallen thought it was shocking how a system as expensive as the much-touted Tokyo Settlement MagLev could have overlooked something as basic as functional air conditioning during the design process.
No such mention of the oversight had made it into the fawning media, of course. Not during the construction phase, and certainly not after the system's twice-delayed grand opening. "A tracked palace," one particularly brown-nosed presenter had dubbed it, "from which all of Britannia's sons and daughters can view the fullness of this new gem in the imperial diadem!"
Despite the fact that she was no longer free to pursue her budding career as a journalist, Kallen found it grimly satisfying that every turning of the seasons proved the lies of the Britannian media again and again. While Prince Clovis had set a circling crown around his capital, the wet heat of the Tokyo summer had still infiltrated the densely-packed train carriage with contemptuous ease, turning the tight rush-hour confines into a sweatbox. No matter how much the Administration and its Fourth Estate lackeys might claim otherwise, the truth of the matter was manifest to anybody who relied on the magnetically levitating train system for their commute.
It's fitting, in a way, Kallen supposed, sitting straight-backed in her chair as befit a noble cadet, knees and heels firmly together in emulation of a posture diagrammed in her Cadet's Handbook, that, try as he might, lie as he might, the Viceregal-Governor cannot keep Japan out of his shiny new train. To say nothing of his Settlement.
Even in her own ears, the connection sounded tenuous and forced. While Clovis's incompetence as a leader and as a manipulator of perception were manifestly apparent, equating the all-pervading seasonal humidity to Japanese nationalism was a harder sell. The comparison didn't really make much sense, especially since the Britannians and their lackeys seemed entirely unconcerned with the ongoing struggle for liberation. The death of the Yokohama Sniper the previous week – damn you, Chihiro! – had inspired a satisfied if short-waved burst of elation throughout the Britannian Concession and the broader Tokyo Settlement; the heat, by contrast, had popped open collars, loosened ties, and in some extreme cases, even forced some of the office workers packing the car to remove their jackets entirely.
Sitting prim and proper in her army gray ROTC uniform, Kallen took the opportunity to glare at a particularly scrawny example of this last breed, silently venting some of her frustration on the pasty-faced man seated across from her on the opposite side of the train and enjoying his obvious discomfort. He'd had the misfortune to attempt what she was sure he considered a "winning smile" on her when they had first made glancing eye contact across the train car; Kallen had spent the rest of the trip punishing the fool for his mistake.
Serves him right, Kallen thought, satisfied with the misery she'd returned in some small way back to Britannia. Who the hell smiles at a girl on a train? Creeps, that's who… Bastard…
Even her attempts to spark self-righteous fury felt damp and half-hearted, sapped into exhaustion by the cloying heat and the strain of keeping the mask of Kallen Stadtfeld firmly in place.
It had been another long day at Ashford Academy, the grounds of which were almost deserted now that summer vacation was in full swing. Almost all of the noble student body had fled the Tokyo Settlement in favor of South Pacific vacations or summer homes on mountain estates, high above the swampy summer heat; a few even went "back to the Homeland," back to the festering cesspool of human rot they liked to call civilization. Now the campus was populated only by the handful of students who lived full-time in the dorms and by the ROTC cadets, whose vacation had been given over fully to their training.
Judging by the expressions of her fellow cadets when they had heard the news, Kallen reckoned that only she had actually read the enlistment papers before signing up. If any of her fellows had done the same, they wouldn't have been surprised by this development, especially considering how behind the fledgling cohort was in achieving the mandatory training benchmarks laid out in the Cadet's Handbook each had been issued after taking the Oath.
Every page of which Kallen had committed to memory. While her fellow cadets might be content to merely play at soldier, she had no such freedom. For a variety of reasons, ranging from her own standards to her secret mission, Kallen couldn't afford her ROTC career to be anything less than exemplary.
So, she leaned in. Using her rank as Cadet Sergeant, Kallen had reserved a place for herself at the front of every class, taking notes and asking questions right under the noses of the revolving cast of Army officers Major Pitt brought in to serve as guest lecturers. The major himself generally sat in the rear of the classroom, well outside of Kallen's field of vision, but the pressure of his gaze never lifted from her shoulders. Every time she glanced back, the Major's watchful eyes met hers until she returned her focus to the lecture.
The washed-up old pilot had clearly identified her as his meal ticket, and just as clearly had no intention of letting her slip away from his tight-fingered grasp.
The regard of her fellow cadets weighed almost as heavily on Kallen's shoulders as the focus of their "mentor". In the classroom and out on the training field, every eye turned towards her, following her every move and evaluating her every word.
But I'd expected as much, Kallen thought resentfully, channeling a bit of her anger into a clenched fist as she bit down on a scowl. No thanks to him and his stupid title.
Attention had followed her, ever since Alvin Stadtfeld had reclaimed her and made her his heir. New Leicester was, all things considered, a minor barony without any great incomes attached to it, but that didn't really matter; it was still a fiefdom in the Homeland itself, and therefore prestigious. As its heiress, even though she had yet to be formally introduced to society as such, Kallen had been rendered prestigious as well.
And that's not even getting into all of the other reasons creeps keep sneaking looks at me from the corners of their eyes when they thought I wouldn't see…
She had nothing but contempt for all six of them, male and female alike, almost as much contempt as she had for Pitt. They were all Britannians to the core, avaricious and scheming, smug in their superiority and proud in their duplicity. Just like with Pitt, Kallen kept her true feelings secret, guarding her thoughts with cool smiles and a single-minded focus on her duties as a cadet. So far, during the summer training camp, Kallen had spoken only to issue commands during formation practice, to ask questions during lecture, or to endlessly bark "yes sir!" to Pitt's satisfaction.
Both to advance her true mission and to preserve her sanity over the summer, Kallen hurled herself into her training.
Again, she had leaned into "Cadet Sergeant Stadtfeld," playing her role to the hilt. To her muted horror, Kallen found herself greatly enjoying the intensive summer program, particularly the physical components and, worst of all, the time spent in the Knightmare Simulator. The intensive program played to her strengths to an extent she would have found otherwise disturbing had it not quickly become her refuge.
Every morning, Kallen left Stadtfeld Manor at six, vanishing long before her drunk of a stepmother stirred and arriving at Ashford by seven for morning PT. After an hour of running, pushups, and crunches, four hours of classwork began, with lectures ranging from Knightmare specifications and upkeep to basic tactics to Army culture. Another hour of PT followed the half-hour set aside for lunch, and was in turn followed by three and a half hours of simulator time spent running scenarios and learning how to pilot in earnest.
A quick shower later and she was on a train back to the Manor, where she cloistered herself away in her room to review all the notes of the day's academic workshops and expand her knowledge on any points of interest referenced in class.
Unpleasant colleagues aside, it all came so easily to her.
The classwork, which covered relevant topics like physics and mechanical engineering as well as all the rot about the history of the Army and such, seemed far simpler than Kallen's usual classes. Either the ROTC curriculum had been dumbed down so every cadet no matter how inbred could comprehend its contents, or her desire to not think about anything but the task on hand had sharpened her mind's edge to a razor hone. Likewise, she stood easily head and shoulders over her fellow cadets on the practice field, beating their track times and continuing to crank out pushups long after everybody else had collapsed into the dust.
Of course, it was on the simulators where Kallen truly shined. While the same twisting, knotted agitation that she had experienced back during the recruitment assembly rose in her belly every time the simulator's hatch closed behind her, it grew easier and easier to ignore the momentary spike of nausea with each session. The voices and flashbacks were harder to push past fully, but with hours in the simulator every day, the edges slowly grew less jagged, the voices less loud.
"Now arriving at Emperor Albert the Second Station," a cool female voice chimed through the train's overhead speakers, the only thing cool in the sweltering cabin. "Doors will be opening to your left. Please remain clear of the opening doors."
As the levitating train slowed to a smooth stop – none of the jolting Kallen dimly remembered from the long-dead, but not sweltering, Tokyo Metro in evidence – she rose to her booted feet and pulled her ROTC-issued rucksack down from the overhead rack, its cargo of filthy workout gear and notebooks smacking into her back as she slung it over her shoulder. Across the train car, the pale office drudge let out a sigh of relief as she began to walk away, only to stiffen up again as she spun on her heel to glare at him.
That last moment of discomfort would be the final drop of pleasure she would wring from the day, of that Kallen was gloomily certain. She was returning to the place she felt least comfortable these days, a hollow shell of a home that was no longer anything of the sort, bereft as it was of the friendly face of her real mother. Compared to that absence, or to the presence of her drunken hag of a stepmother and all of her cronies, Kallen almost found herself longing for the boors who made up the remainder of her training cohort.
Honestly, a corner of Kallen's mind huffed as she made her way down the station steps to street level, you have no reason to be this petty. Lelouch and Milly even stole you away for lunch today, so you didn't have to play polite in front of Major Pitt! Today was a good day!
A vague flicker of guilt wormed its way up from Kallen's gut. Perhaps the office drudge had just been trying to be friendly? Now that she thought about it, he hadn't been that much older than her, only two or three years at most. Even if he had been trying to flirt, at least he'd been far more subtle about it than her overly-bred fellow cadets…
Who gives a shit, Kallen asked that annoyingly reasonable part of her mind incredulously. He's a Britannian! He should consider himself lucky I didn't kill him where he stood on Japanese soil! Or, sat, at least. I already showed him far too much mercy!
Her traitorous mind didn't offer up any further arguments, but Kallen couldn't quite shake that heavy, guilty feeling that rolled around in her gut as she listlessly made the short walk to the nearest bus stop. Tired of the day and depressed that even her momentary joy of ruining a Britannian's commute home had been spoiled, she slumped down in the first open seat she could find and just stared straight ahead. Thankfully, the bus had functional air conditioning, and the cool air was so welcome on her sweaty skin that Kallen almost missed her stop, hesitant as she was to leave the sanctuary for the cicada-haunted humidity outside.
The clatter of those insects intensified as Kallen keyed herself through the pedestrian gate and made her way up the walk paralleling the driveway, passing through the ornamental ring of trees surrounding Stadtfeld Manor her father had once jokingly named "the Forest". Alvin Stadtfeld had sourced those mulberry trees from the slopes of Mount Kumotori, in what had once been Chichibu-Tama-Kai National Park, ordering that they be dug up before they could be logged and replanted on the grounds of his new family estate in Area 11.
Kallen had distant memories of enjoying a trip to that National Park as a very little girl with Naoto, her mother, and her father. Those memories might have faded entirely with age if it wasn't for the framed photo of her, Naoto, and her mother together, Mount Kumotori rising behind them.
Her father had taken that picture.
Now, the handful of refugee mulberries sheltered Stadtfeld Manor from any inquisitive eyes that might peer over the boundary wall or through the bars of the gates protecting the driveway and the pedestrian access.
Not that there's anything really worth hiding there now, thanks to Tanya…
With practiced effort, Kallen pushed the stab of anger away. She fully understood why her leader had ordered Naoto to take their mother away to safety; in the heat of the moment, Kallen had even found herself appreciative, touched even, that Tanya would take the time to care for her and Naoto's mother.
It had been a relief during that first crowded week, as Kallen worked to mold herself into the perfect image of a Britannian student-soldier and calm down from her emotional meltdown in front of the entirety of Ashford Academy. The sudden absence of her real mother and her obviously hafu brother had simplified the details of that new mask wonderfully, simultaneously dispensing with loose ends while removing a temptation to hare away to Shinjuku instead of sticking it out in Ashford.
That relief had melted away over the ensuing weeks and months as it became steadily more and more apparent to Kallen that the dreaded investigation into her past by her new superior would never come. At first confused that the obvious social climber wasn't trying to force his way into her private life, Kallen was annoyed and amused to discover that Major Pitt in fact had, only to crash face-first into a sauced Lady Alicia Stadtfeld as full of fury as she was of gin.
Sending the pain in the ass ROTC officer scampering had been perhaps the first and only kindness Kallen's stepmother had ever done for her.
Which makes me all the more certain that she only did it by accident. Kallen didn't bother to suppress her smile at the thought. The idea of her two enemies tripping over one another and their respective agendas made the renewed loss of her mother sting a little bit less.
We were doing so good too… After months of me treating her like shit, we were finally acting like a family again, at least behind closed doors…
Kallen pushed that thought away too and looked up from the path towards her destination. She was almost to the Manor's front door, and… Kallen narrowed her eyes. She didn't recognize the black sedan parked out on the Manor's driveway, nor the uniformed driver leaning against it and lighting a cigarette. The latter began to nod respectfully at her approach before he noticed the chevrons on her collar. Dropping his cigarette, the driver straightened to attention, his fist snapping to his chest in salute.
No rank tabs on his uniform or any unit patches, Kallen considered as she paused to return the salute before releasing it and taking another few steps closer. And he's saluting a sergeant? A cadet sergeant?
"There really isn't any need for that, you know," said Kallen, hiking her rucksack back up over her shoulder. "I'm just a cadet. What are you doing here? At ease, by the way."
"Begging your pardon, Sergeant," the man replied as he slipped into parade rest, "but you're a cadet with a Knightmare Corps patch on your shoulder. Not all cadets are built the same, you know. Besides, red hair here? You've got to be a Stadtfeld. Respect where respect's due, you see."
"Uh huh," Kallen nodded skeptically, already seeing another Pitt standing before her. "Would that respect extend to answering the question I asked? Perhaps in addition to a follow-up, namely, who are you?"
"I'm waiting until your Lord Father has finished his visit home to his loving wife and children," the driver answered, smirking as Kallen's first spike of fury transmuted into confusion as she processed his response.
"As for who I am, that's really not important." The driver paused, before adding, "were I you, I would not keep the Old Man waiting, Lady Kallen. In his words, 'the jig is up.' Best just to go in and take your lumps, that's my advice."
With this last comment, the driver's initial amusement faded into something approaching sympathy. Kallen didn't trust it, not when his eyes still danced with hidden laughter.
But he's right, who he is doesn't matter… What does Dad know? Why… why is he here?
As a long list of potential discoveries the Baron of New Leicester could have made regarding her recent activities unspooled behind her eyes, Kallen moved by impulse. Following the instincts hammered out over hours spent out on the former equestrian track turned ROTC training grounds, her heels snapped together and her fist rose to a parting salute. The unnamed driver smirked again but held his peace, fist rising lazily to bump against his chest again.
Almost before the parting ritual was complete, Kallen was turning back on her heel towards the Manor. During her brief confrontation with the anonymous man with a soldier's bearing, someone had clearly spotted her and gone running to alert the household of her arrival. Now, Vernon, head butler of Stadtfeld Manor and her slut of a stepmother's barely secret lover, was waiting for her next to the open door, fat as butter and twice as greasy.
There was an unsettling air of coordination about all of this, as if she had stumbled into the jaws of a trap when she'd passed through the ring of mulberries. Kallen resisted the urge to turn and shoot a glare at the driver, certain she'd just find him smirking at her back, cigarette restored to its place between his fingers. Instead, still stinking of exertion and sweating freely from the summer's heat, Kallen stalked forward up the short flight of stairs leading up to the Manor's door.
"Lady Kallen," Vernon greeted her, extending a hand as if she needed help up the stairs. "Pl-"
The breath rushed out of the majordomo as Kallen shoved her rucksack forcefully into his chest.
"Why, thank you for offering to help with my bag, Vernon!" Kallen bared her teeth in an expression that could be called a smile. "It's crammed full of laundry, so see to that too. Now, where are Father and Mother waiting? Let's get this over with."
"T-the Day Parlor, Lady Kallen," Vernon wheezed, to his credit still managing to stand up somewhat straight with one arm holding the door open and the other wrapped around her rucksack. "Th-they're waiting for you."
So, no time to go change and freshen up, eh? Dad must be taking this seriously… Shit, shit, shit!
The impulse to run away was almost as strong as the urge to seize this sudden threat by the throat. For a moment, Kallen stood on the threshold of her family's house, torn between those two instincts. A third urging, to call Tanya or her big brother and request assistance, request orders, percolated up in between.
Ruthlessly, Kallen pushed each instinctual urge face down into a pool of water and held them down until the bubbles stopped. Or, at least, that was how she pictured the process as she closed her eyes and took deep, calming breaths, ignoring Vernon sidling around her and into the depths of the Manor.
Then, as the panic flowed out of her, Kallen Stadtfeld opened her eyes. Her hands didn't twitch as she strode through the Manor's atrium; when she turned left, down the hall towards the Day Parlor, her legs were steady as ancient cypress trees. It was only when her hand clasped the handle of the parlor door that her composure faltered slightly, an anxious tremor running through her limbs as Kallen considered what could be waiting for her on the other side of that white-painted door.
If he knows that I've joined the Underground, that I am fighting for the liberation of Japan… I have no idea how Dad will react. It could go either of two ways, Kallen thought. On the one hand, Alvin Stadtfeld had taken a Japanese lover and not abandoned her, not really, not like how Tanya's dad had. Also, someone had helped Naoto get his hands on that first batch of weapons.
On the other hand… he's a Britannian noble. An enfiefed lord. That means that he's loyal to the Empire, if perhaps not the Emperor himself…
It was, Kallen knew, entirely possible that she would walk into that parlor and find an entire squad of Royal Guard waiting to take her into custody, as befit her rank and her crimes.
But what choice do I have? Calling Tanya is pointless; she can't help me now. Running away would just mean they'd shoot me in the back… Give me a coward's death.
And that would not do. Not for Kallen Stadtfeld and certainly not for Kozuki Kallen.
For the Cause.
Resolved, Kallen turned the door handle and smoothly stepped into the Day Parlor.
Anticlimactically, Kallen found the room was entirely free of uniformed goons, save perhaps for herself. Instead, her father and her stepmother were sitting on separate couches on either side of a coffee table. A full tea service was laid out and each had a steaming cup perched on a saucer.
Kallen noted that the tasteful array of finger food accompaniments had been left entirely untouched.
There was no desultory conversation to interrupt as she stepped through the parlor door. Indeed, there was no sign that either of the two adults present had noticed the presence of the either, except for the way their eyes seemed to skim over and through one another as Alvin, Baron of New Leicester, turned to greet his daughter and heir with an air of unmistakable relief.
"Baron Alvin," said Kallen, conscious that she was still in uniform as she took the initiative of breaking the instantly uncomfortable silence. Almost unbidden, her chin dipped as her hands found the edges of her skirt between thumb and forefinger. Then, in a single smooth motion, her right foot slipped behind her left, her hands gently spread to pull her uniform skirt flat across her thighs, and she dipped down, knees moving outwards as she genuflected before the patrician of House Stadtfeld.
"Well met, Heiress Kallen," her father replied, rising from the couch and turning towards her. Eyes the same blue as her own found hers, and the baron's head dipped into a respectful nod, releasing her to straighten back up.
"And now that I have greeted my heir as procedure demands…" He spread his arms wide, his gray mustaches twitching above a spreading smile, "why don't you come over and give your old man a hug, Kallie?"
On some reflex long-buried from the time when she and Naoto had lived with their father and mother, a reflex that she'd never managed to fully snuff out, that was exactly what Kallen did.
"Hi Dad," she murmured, unable to even protest his use of her childhood nickname as she felt her father's strong arms wrap around her shoulders. "Good to see you."
"It is a pleasure most fine to see you too, my dear Kallie," Alvin replied, speaking into her hair as he pressed a whiskery kiss onto the top of her head. "No matter what else is going on… Honey, it will always be a damned fine pleasure to see you again.
"And today? Oh, today, it has been far too long."
Past her father, Kallen could see Alicia continuing to stare straight ahead, through her husband and out the window behind him.
"So…" Kallen pulled back from the hug, looking up into her father's face, "what else… is going on? I'm really happy to see you too," she added quickly, before so much as a hint of disappointment could cross her father's face, "but I'm… well, your driver said I should hurry up and take my lumps?"
And if the tension of waiting for the other shoe to drop continues on much longer, I think I'm going to scream.
"Ah, Errol…" A look of amused pain stretched across Alvin's face, complete with a theatrical wince. "Don't pay him too much mind, Kallie. I've known him for years. He's… Well, he's not harmless, but he does love mak'n a mountain outta a hill of beans. Best just to nod along with whatever he says and then dial it all down about ten percent."
You say that, Dad, but you don't just take surprise trips across the Pacific. You rarely leave the Homeland at all, and certainly not for some spontaneous jaunt to Japan. You came here for a reason, and don't think I didn't notice that you didn't deny the warning entirely.
"But…" Kallen prompted, still waiting for the other boot to come crashing down.
"But nothing," Alvin Stadtfeld shrugged effortlessly. "Like I said, Honey Bun, Errol just likes to give people a good fright. A reliable man, but a bit of a jokester, hmm?"
He chuckled, and for a second, some part of Kallen could almost relax.
"However, I must say, I have heard the most wonderous things about how the geraniums are coming along this year," said Alvin, offering Kallen a genial smile. "Would you do your old man the courtesy of escorting him through the gardens, Kallen?"
Behind him, Alicia remained stone-faced, still staring blankly out onto the view of the front lawn. By contrast, Alvin's smile seemed to Kallen as pure as driven snow, as down-home and warm as biscuits fresh from the griddle. She couldn't find a hint of deceit in that smile, nor a single note of malicious intent in his tone. Indeed, by all appearances, he was nothing but a merry old father eager to take a walk with his daughter through a garden, no cunning machinations or sly traps to be found. Despite her father's overwhelmingly innocuous air, it was blatantly obvious what he meant, what he really wanted.
In that moment, her inability to see past his amiable smile scared Kallen more than standing at Milly Ashford's left hand, vulnerable before the leering eyes of the entire Academy.
"Sure thing, Dad," she said, hoping that her smile held intact over the sudden fearful acceleration of her heart. "That sounds like a great idea."
As the two of them made their quiet way out of the Day Parlor and through the Manor's back door, Kallen noticed Vernon heading in the opposite direction. Judging by the way her father's eyes tracked the butler for a moment before dismissing him, he knew just as well as she did where he was going, and to whom.
Neither Kallen nor Alvin spoke until they were out on the grounds, surrounded by flowers, cicadas, and the oppressive, wet heat.
"Ah, just like being back home again," Alvin pronounced, rolling his shoulders as he stretched his arms out above his head. "Minus the cicadas, of course," he amended. "No broods in New Leicester, thank the Lord."
"Oh?" Despite being the heiress to New Leicester, Kallen could practically count the number of times she had set foot in the barony south of the Ohio River. She might be a Stadtfeld, but she'd never be a local in her family's ancient seat. "That… sounds nice? It must be nice to get a good night's sleep without all the bug sounds."
"Don't you worry about that, Honey Bun. The Smokies have their own variety of critters howling in the dark," Alvin smirked as he lowered himself to his haunches to examine some flower whose name Kallen couldn't recall. "I just happen to agree with the chatter of my old stomping grounds more than the local ensemble."
"That said, I think I'll always have a special affection for cicadas… They were chirping, you know, on the night your mother and I… Well…" The graying Britannian looked up from the flower, his smirk softening into a simple smile as he looked at his daughter. "You probably don't want to hear the rest of that story, but suffice it to say, cicadas will always have a place in my heart. Just as you will, Kallie."
"You could stay here then, you know," Kallen mumbled, abruptly feeling very young.
It had been over a year since she had last seen her father, and so much had happened over that span. She'd published articles in real papers, even if they'd mostly been suppressed. She'd joined first an insurgency and then the inaugural cohort of Ashford Academy's ROTC. A year ago, she hadn't met Rivalz and Lelouch, nor had she met Chihiro. She certainly hadn't met anybody like Tanya.
A year ago, when she had last waved her father off at the airport, she hadn't killed, nor had anybody seriously tried to kill her. In so many ways, that Kallen of a year ago had been so naive.
"Your wife's here, after all," Kallen added, glad that her voice sounded slightly stronger in her ears, "not to mention Mom. Nathan'd be happy to see you too, I bet. You… You don't have to go back there…"
"Oh… oh, what I wouldn't give to live in a world like that, Honey Bun." A breath too soft to be a sigh escaped his lips like the last breath of a dying man as Alvin's smile turned somber, almost melancholic. Regretful. "Unfortunately, the real world is not so kind. And as the old Japanese Imperial sorts were so fond of saying-"
"-Duty is heavier than a mountain," Kallen quoted by rote, having heard that line far, far too many times. Her gut twisted as she remembered all the times she had heard it, and from whose mouths it had come. Her father had said it before he left her and Naoto. Naoto had said it before he vanished into Shinjuku. Tanya had said some variation of it in her hearing at least half a dozen times.
She was so tired of hearing about duty. She supposed that was part of the mountain.
"That it is, Kallie, that it is…" Alvin hummed noncommittally. "Although… speaking of duty, tell me about your cadet program."
Kallen could see something in her father's bearing shift. A kind of energy seemed to be creeping out from some inner reserve, seeping from every pore of his bones and pushing the melancholy out in favor of something that set her teeth on edge.
"Is this ROTC, led by Major Pitt," a faint hint of a sneer touched his face before fading back into his genial smile, "everything you feared it would be?"
"Yes… and no," admitted Kallen, eyes on her father's back as he dusted his hands off and stood back up. "I mean… Don't get me wrong, Pitt's still a complete pig of a man. He's… he's just so obvious, you know? He keeps complimenting me all the time and tells all the other cadets they should be just like me, but… I feel like he's saying that because I'm watching, and he knows I'm watching?" She took a breath. "Does that make sense?"
"Oh, entirely, Honey Bun," Alvin nodded, straightening up and knuckling his back. "Ah! Don't get old, Kallen, I promise you it isn't worth it. But, yes, men of the good major's ilk are common as dirt and half as useful. Be polite and respectful to him but keep your distance, and never, ever accept a favor from him, that's my advice. What about your fellow cadets?"
"If they're the cream of Britannian nobility, I have no idea how we all escaped the fate of the French," Kallen said, dismissing her entire cohort as one. "Half of them are just miniature Pitts too."
"My my, I see you have inherited your mother's sharp tongue to go with her enchanting beauty," Alvin chuckled fondly. "But I would not be so quick to dismiss the sons and daughters of Britannia. Your fellow cadets might be as green as the Forest's leaves, but their families survived the Emblem of Blood where many other noble lines did not. Do not let their inexperience blind you to the threat they present."
"I'm not," Kallen replied shortly. "Don't worry Dad, I'm not going to forget that they're a threat; they're Britannians."
"In case you have forgotten, my dear, as are you. And unlike your fellow cadets, you have already proven yourself a true lioness in waiting, or perhaps a cub. Maybe it's time you set about making yourself a Pride, hmm?" Alvin pointed out.
Kallen remained stubbornly silent and tried not to think about the implication. The Britannian flag, after all, featured a lion prominently on its crest.
Eventually, he sighed. "Well, it breaks my heart to hear that you haven't made any friends yet among the ranks. What about the rest of your school? You are on the Student Council now, aren't you, and weren't you with the Newspaper Club before? Find any new friends there?"
"Not really," Kallen admitted. "Not in the Newspaper Club. Nobody else really took it seriously, except for a few of the girls, who took investigating Lelouch a bit too seriously." She rolled her eyes. "Seriously! As if we didn't have anything better to report on! I blame Milly; her influence has scrambled the entire Academy's sensibilities!"
"Lelouch?" Baron Alvin, Lord Stadtfeld inquired, the curious smile on his lips growing fixed. "I didn't realize that the murder of the Lost Prince had become such a captivating topic of interest for schoolyard news clubs."
"What?" Kallen blinked and then remembered the fate of the Vice-President's namesake. "Oh, no, nothing so interesting. Or dangerous. No, the Student Council Vice-President happens to be named after the prince; lots of boys that age are, you know. For some reason, lots of the other girls like him."
"But not you?" As Kallen had explained the name, Alvin's smile relaxed into a teasing expression. "I'll point out that he's the first boy I've heard about from you so far, Kallie! Or, perhaps Milly's the one who I should be speaking with after I'm done here?"
"Dad!" Kallen yelped, before noticing the smile and huffing. "No, I'm not interested in either of them! But…" she added grudgingly, "they aren't… that bad. Milly's… Milly gives me a headache, but after the assembly she… She realized she'd overstepped and apologized. Well, honestly, it was Lelouch who probably told her that she'd overstepped, and was the one to deliver her apology… And he's the one who's helped keep her under control at Council meetings since then. He's been helpful."
"Hmm," Alvin hummed again, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet as his eyes raked the flowerbeds before turning to catch Kallen again. "So, is this Lelouch boy your hacker friend, Kallen?"
Suppressing her shock took all of Kallen's practice at concealing her emotions behind a pleasant mask. As ice water filled her veins, Kallen's expression didn't flicker.
This is it, Tanya's cool voice pronounced behind her eyes. The other shoe has fallen. But, while it's impossible to know how he learned of Lelouch's edits to your file, it is possible that those edits are the extent of his knowledge. Keep your cover.
"My hacker friend?" Kallen met her father's questioning look with an inquisitively raised eyebrow of her own. "I don't know what you're talking about, Dad. Lelouch is pretty skilled with computers, I guess, but the real computer wiz on the Student Council is definitely Nina. Shirley's the Treasurer, but I think she pushes her work off onto Nina. Probably for the best."
"Did you really think I wouldn't notice the alterations made to your file, Kallen?" Alvin asked, clearly unimpressed with his daughter's attempt at a smokescreen. His blue eyes, suddenly cold, hammered against Kallen's composure. "What kind of fool do you think that I am, to not leave tripwires on your files? I was notified the moment someone tampered with your Ministry of Justice file. Besides, that file was locked and only a handful of people had the clearance necessary to edit it, much less access it. So, yes, your hacker friend."
"My… Ministry of Justice file?" The earth wobbled under Kallen's feet. She was suddenly very light-headed. Her right hand, she realized, was inching towards the knife concealed in her compact. She grasped her hands together to stop it, and to hide the sudden unnerving tremble. "Not… Not the Ministry of Education? Why…" She swallowed, "why would the Ministry of Justice have a file on me? Because of my articles?"
The knowing look in her father's eyes was terrifying. The realization that she had just tipped her cards and revealed her hand even more so.
Tamaki was right… Kallen thought miserably, I'm really not cut out for these spy games… Dammit, Naoto! Dammit, Tanya! And damn you, Lelouch! You and your fucking "peace offering!" I knew I should have stabbed you when I had the chance!
Then, another thought crossed her mind.
"Wait…" She peered suspiciously at Alvin Stadtfeld, Baron of New Leicester. "Why would you know if the Ministry of Justice had a file on me? How could you have had any sort of alerts about changes made to it set up?" Another question bubbled horribly up from the depths of her mind, like gas rising from the bottom of a bog. "Dad… You… The driver called you the Old Man, but… You're not Army, are you?"
"I'll be asking the questions, I think." His gray Van Dyke mustache twitched upwards, but the smile below it was anything but amused. "Starting with Naoto and Hitomi's locations. Interesting that you brought up your mother and brother earlier, Kallen, and invited me to join them when both seem to have vanished completely. I left your mother in a safe position here at the Manor. Where did you put her?"
"I don't know!" This time, Kallen didn't need to bother with any emotional masks. "I haven't seen her in months! I've got no idea where she is!"
Her protestation did not put her father at ease. "And your brother? I know you visited Shinjuku quite often, although you stopped dropping by for a few months at the start of the year before resuming in April. Then, you suddenly stopped visiting the Ghetto at the same time your file was edited and your mother spirited away. Should I assume that you know nothing of your brother's location either?"
"No," Kallen ground out, her panic quickly transmuting to anger as it always did. It was much easier to be angry than it was to be afraid. "I've got no idea where he ran off to. But…" she allowed, taking a deep breath and remembering that this was still her father, her dad she was speaking to, "I think he and Mom are together. I don't know where they are, but… But they're supposed to be safe."
For a moment, Alvin Stadtfeld said nothing. His eyes, distant and unsympathetic, picked over her face. Kallen could almost feel those eyes peeling her back, layer by layer, and wondered if she had ever known her father after all. She had never seen that look before.
Not on his face, at least.
"Can I assume," Alvin said, venturing the question in a tone suggesting that the answer had better be as the asker expected, "that they are supposed to be safe in some place that is quite far away from Yokohama?"
Kallen couldn't have said what it was that gave him away, but she was suddenly cognizant of the way her father was holding himself, the way his hands were tucked behind his back, out of sight, and the way his face was so artificially flat and void of emotion.
She recognized that expression immediately. She'd seen it often enough in the mirror.
So that's why you came, Kallen thought, a sudden wave of bitter disappointment crashing over her head. I should have guessed.
"You don't have to worry," she replied, her voice barely above a hiss, her fragmented composure shivering like drops of water on a hot stove, "the only Japanese woman you need care about is fine and, as far as I know, completely safe. Thousands aren't, but that's not what matters, is it?"
For a moment, Alvin's eyes glimmered with emotion. Then, he took a deep breath, and the glimmer snuffed out like a candle flame. "That's good," he replied, his words terse but unmistakably relieved. "That's… good. And your brother is as well, I take it, as you said that they are together? That's… very good."
Silently, Kallen nodded. Yes, it was good that her mother and brother weren't among the thousands of murdered Japanese piled up on Yokohama's street corners. On that much, she could agree. That much, she could concede. No more.
"Would you…" Alvin licked his lips, a quick, darting motion. A crack in the smooth mask, a vision of the man within. "Would you pass a message to them? Assuming you have some way to contact them, of course. No need to tell me what that way is," he added quickly, "and no need to confirm. Just… If you can manage it, I would consider it a personal favor."
Kallen nodded again, pointedly noncommittal. After all, she thought vindictively, he's the one asking the questions, isn't he?
Besides, she reasoned, I'm not even sure if I can get a message out to them. I'd have to wait until Rivalz comes in for a Student Council meeting and pass a message to him without Lelouch or Milly seeing it… Get him to hand it over to Inoue, and hopefully she'll know someone who can get it to Naoto or Mom. And… Tanya did say I should only do that for emergencies, and since Mom's safe… does this really count?
Something of that last thought must have flashed across her face, as seeing it, her father nodded resignedly. "If you can see your way clear," he added, "I would appreciate it. But, if not…" He waved vaguely. "Now," he continued, clearly letting the topic go, "I know that you're not in the most… cooperative mood at the moment, Kallen, but please set aside your anger for a moment. I still need a bit more information from you. Please."
Again, Kallen met her father's eyes. They were imploring, but not desperate. Not like they had been in that one moment, where Alvin Stadtfeld's concern for her mother, his lover, had shown through. Still… they were her dad's eyes.
And Naoto trusts him.
"Alright," Kallen said, exhaling her anger as best she could and trying to find Kallen the Journalist in her head, pushing Kozuki Kallen, Kallen Stadtfeld, and, most of all Kallie, out of her way. "What do you want to know? You seem really well-informed already, so I don't see what I can tell you, but… Ask away."
"Hmm… Well, to start with," Alvin began, one hand emerging from behind his back to idly play with his narrow beard, "what are your thoughts on the death of the Yokohama Sniper? What are your thoughts about the establishment of a new branch office of the IBI in the Hiroshima Settlement?"
"The Sniper?" Kallen's lip curled. "Good damned riddance."
It was the least she wanted to say about the late and very much unlamented Tanaka Chihiro.
Just a pity she brought so many people down with her.
"And the same goes for the ones who brought her down," Kallen continued, shaking her head. "I mean, the IBI. I'm not sure what they're hoping to do, setting up shop here in Area 11. I mean, it's not like there's a lack of police running around, and the DIS is supposed to be keeping everybody working under the Viceregal-Governor's decree, so…"
Kallen allowed her words to taper off with an artless shrug. Her eyes never left her father's face. She might not be the best spy, much to her irritation, but she hadn't been a half-bad rookie reporter. At least, not in her own opinion. Diethard Reid might scoff at her work, but he'd still read it, which was something in and of itself. Her few months of finding stories that the Administration hadn't wanted people to know about, about the treatment of the Honoraries and the exploitation by the nobility of everybody else in the Area, had given her at least a few instincts.
Every one of which was telling her that her father knew much more about the situation than he was telling.
And perhaps by feigning disinterest, he might take it upon himself to educate his daughter.
Judging by the flash of amusement in Alvin Stadtfeld's eyes, he wasn't taken in for a second. Still, he couldn't seem to hold himself back. "You don't think the IBI establishing a presence in Area 11 will change anything, do you?" He shook his head sadly. "Kallen, Kallen, Kallen… It's all about using the correct tool for the job at hand. You wouldn't use a spanner to…" He checked himself, remembering his audience. "You wouldn't use a Knightmare to attack a naval vessel, would you? That's the wrong tool for the job."
"Oh?" Kallen cocked her head to the side, interested despite herself. "So, what job is the Directorate supposed to be doing? I remember seeing something about them uncovering corruption in the judiciary…?"
"Above all else, the Directorate handles issues internal to His Imperial Majesty's Administration," Alvin confirmed with a nod and just a hint of a wry smile. "At least, they handle all the issues that they themselves don't cause. Broadly speaking, the DIS are tasked with hunting down traitors in the Lesser and Petty Nobilities, the upper ranks of the civil service, Commoners over a certain level of wealth and influence, and the officer corps."
"But not the Greater Nobility," Kallen pressed, noting the absence. "So, they wouldn't bother us?"
"Oh, they wouldn't dare," Alvin chuckled, "but that has nothing to do with our title. We're barely Greater Nobles. Country barons are very much in the DIS remit. Really, anybody without a ducal tiara or a bishop's mitre is their rightful prey. Excepting the Imperial Family, of course…"
"Of course," Kallen parroted, noting the way her father's words trailed off into an unspoken but nevertheless clear Unless. "So, in that case… What does the IBI do?"
"Ah, that's the right question!" said Alvin, beaming with pride. "It took Nathan a while to remember to ask me that one. The Bureau, like the Directorate, is tasked with hunting traitors and criminals to His Imperial Majesty. Unlike the DIS, the Bureau focuses on the lower strata of Commoners, Honoraries, and Numbers."
"I… see," acknowledged Kallen, speaking slowly as she turned the new information over in her mind. "Isn't that what the Knightpolice is for, though? Surely another group setting up here will make everybody already here upset?"
"The Knightpolice!" Alvin didn't even bother trying to hide his contempt. "Oh, the Knightpolice… I have so much sympathy for the poor fools in the actual Military Police who have to put up with that blunt instrument. The Knightpolice…" The graying lord shook his head, smiling to himself. "No, Kallen, the Knightpolice won't make a peep. They're a tool here, not a player. The Directorate, on the other hand, will be quite upset. But the Bureau stole a march on them by bagging the Sniper, so if Director Ramkin has any sense, he'll keep his powder dry for now."
"Does this mean that the DIS and IBI might start going after each other?" Kallen tried to keep from sounding too interested in the answer. Judging by the look her father shot her, she failed. "I mean," she hurriedly added, "the regular soldiers and the Purists got into a massive brawl back around last Christmas, and there's practically a brawl every other day down by the docks between off-duty soldiers or marines from the line regiments and the ones from the Purists troops!"
"Ah yes," Alvin shook his head, a moue of disgust curling across his lip. "Garrison troops. And Purists." He snorted again. "Bastards should have taken the hint back in the 80's. But," he cleared his throat, "you aren't wrong. There is likely to be a degree of conflict between the IBI and the DIS, but unless it is truly amateur hour, it won't be so obvious. However, the Bureau's newest field office should signal a shift in strategy, as far as intelligence gathering in Area 11 goes. A greater focus on the Numbers, a lighter focus on the upper crust. For better or worse."
"And… Is this all the Sniper's fault?" Kallen asked, silently damning Chihiro's ghost to an even deeper hell. "I mean, she was just… just one woman, right? Some crazy murderer with a rifle? Is that enough to cause a strategic change?"
"Not on its own," Alvin replied placidly, "but never underestimate the power of a nice, bloody shirt. Sometimes, Britannians do far more in His Imperial Majesty's service as convenient corpses than they ever could have accomplished in a lifetime of service. But leaving aside the capital the Bureau gained by ending the Yokohama Sniper's reign of terror, something along these lines has certainly been in the making for a while. At least since the troubles back in the spring." The gray mustache quirked back up into a smile. "Someone's running out of patience for Prince Clovis, I think."
"I see," Kallen nodded her understanding. "Yeah, that… That sounds plausible."
I see that this is information that Naoto and Tanya really, really need to know, Kallen thought as she babbled, filling time. I don't think we've got anything going on all the way down by Hiroshima, but if we don't, we really should. If the Bureau really is that good, we can't let them get set up here in Japan!
"Yes," Lord Stadtfeld nodded back to her, "do make sure Nathan hears all about that. Make sure his friends hear about that too. If I were you, I would tell all of them, Nathan most especially, to crawl into the deepest holes they can find and to close the doors behind them. For their sake, and for yours. This is not a battle he should want to fight, not if he can avoid it. Whatever business he has outstanding, tell him to bring it to a speedy conclusion as soon as he can."
For a second time, the earth swayed under Kallen's feet.
Dammit! She raged inside her head, staggering back a step from the Britannian in front of her. I got so engrossed in the topic that I completely forgot! No, I just thought the hacking thing was all he was here for, that and Mom! He knows!
Yes, a cooler voice in her head agreed, he knows. And what will you do about it, Kozuki Kallen? Anything for the Cause.
Anything…? Almost all of Kallen revolted at the thought, Kozuki Kallen and Kallen Stadtfeld agreeing unreservedly for once with Kallie. But… that's Dad. Our Dad!
Almost all of her agreed.
He's old and slow, that same cool voice said. His back hurts. Look at his knuckles - they're swollen and arthritic. And we have a knife. It would only take one swift move, just a single slice across the neck. We've got the strength for it. It would be over in an instant, and he wouldn't be able to tell anybody else about us.
That's stupid, thought Kozuki Kallen, and you know it's stupid. What the hell comes next, huh? What do we do with the body? With our clothes covered in blood? How the fuck does killing Dad help the Cause, huh?
That, thought Kallen Stadtfeld with Britannian cruelty, sounds like something Chihiro would do, doesn't it? All fury, without the least bit of thought.
With a terrific wrench, Kozuki Kallen forced it all to the back of her mind and lifted her eyes back to meet her father's.
All she saw there was disappointment. No anger, no fear, no confusion; it was painfully obvious that Alvin Stadtfeld had read the course of her thoughts without her needing to vocalize a thing.
It sent a pang through her belly, that disappointment.
The cool voice slunk away.
"How long," Kallen ground out, not noticing until the words were out that she had defaulted to Japanese. "How long have you known about… About them?" At the last second, she caught herself and used the ambiguously inclusive term.
After all, there's no guarantee that he knows about Ohgi and Inoue, much less Tanya.
"When I gave Naoto the seed money and contacts he requested," Alvin replied in the same language, his Japanese slightly rusty at first but quickly gaining steam, "I had assumed that he would be starting a criminal enterprise of his own, and would carve his own way to power in the Ghettos and villages of Japan. I could not give him his true inheritance, the lordship of New Leicester, so I gave him the means to create his own lordship, after the manner of other half-Britannians who couldn't quite pass."
His mustache twitched up over an undeniably proud smile.
"'Ah, a chip off the old block,' I thought." The smile faded. "So, imagine my surprise when I started getting notifications that you, Kallen, had begun visiting the Ghetto with increasing regularity. At first, I was more than happy to let you continue; after all, the Imperial Family aside, siblings should remain close, if at all possible. And…" The last traces of amusement vanished. "And he was there for you when I couldn't be. Who was I to step between you and your brother? I wasn't there when you needed me to be, and I didn't want to make things worse between us by interfering any further."
Words caught behind Kallen's teeth. What words, she couldn't quite say. Agreement that Alvin, her father, hadn't been there to stop the childhood bullies? Protestations that she wanted him to be involved with her life? A rebuke to say that he was right to stay far away?
"But then," Alvin continued, "Christmas came, complete with its little pogrom. I began to worry, especially when you started trying your hand at journalism, of all things." He shook his head, with almost an admiring look of disbelief stamped across his face. "Never let it be said that Naoto is the rebellious one of my children. But, Christmas came, and I grew worried, especially when the notifications suddenly ceased. And then, in two days, you called me about Pitt and all of the tripwires I had guarding your files went off as one.
"You have no idea how badly you scared me, Kallen." Her father's eyes were locked on hers, Lord Stadtfeld temporarily dismissed in favor of Alvin. Dad. "Calling me like that, that early? You never call me, and then I get a sudden call about some major harassing you? I thought…" He sighed and ran a hand over his pointed beard. "Well, never mind what I thought. You were more nervous than a teen approached by an Army recruiter should be. So," he smiled grimly, "I started wondering what had made you so nervous to receive official attention, albeit from a major.
"And wouldn't you know it," Alvin's rant had taken on an almost avalanche proportion, a mix of long-suppressed professional and personal stresses finally given voice. "As soon as I started looking, I understood entirely why you were so worried! Naoto has done quite well for himself, hasn't he? I can't tell you how surprised I was to learn that the Kozuki Organization had taken over an entire city, all under the Administration's nose, practically within sight of the Viceregal Palace!"
A look of acute pain passed over the man's face. "Why my idiot son chose to name his clandestine rebel organization after himself, I will never understand. Both his mother and I are far too smart for that."
"But you are arrogant enough," Kallen shot back, before forcing her mouth closed, her teeth clicking together.
Dammit, Kallen!
Her father shot her a quelling look, but then barked with harsh laughter. "Perhaps, perhaps." He sighed again. "I am quite proud of him. I certainly hadn't anticipated that. I do wish he hadn't felt it necessary to all but declare war on His Imperial Majesty, though. And," Alvin sighed again, "I wish he had been brave enough to turn you away and insist you keep your nose well out of it. Perhaps I really should have come back for longer earlier… Even a few years earlier… Only seeing you two for a weekend a year…" Alvin shook his head, an expression of resigned weariness clear to see. "You make me proud, both of you, but I really should have kept a closer eye on the pair of you… On you in particular, Kallen…"
A long, quiet moment passed between them. Alvin's pent-up emotions seemed spent. Kallen felt unsteady and uncertain of where they stood. The mulberries surrounding them moaned and creaked, shaken by the wind.
"...Well," Kallen finally got out as the silence grew unbearably heavy, "what will you do?"
Now that you know what I've been up to, what Naoto's been up to… Are you our dad first? Or Baron Alvin Stadtfeld to the core?
"God knows," replied Alvin, his breath exploding out in a heavy sigh. "What do you think I should do, Kallen? What would you do if you learned that not one but both of your children had involved themselves in a war against an empire that controls forty percent of the earth's surface?"
"I would back them to the hilt," Kallen replied immediately. "What other option would I have? Throw them onto the Emperor's grace? Last time I checked, the only punishment allowable for a finding of treason is execution by the wheel. If the choice is going to war against that empire or watching my children's limbs being broken and wound around the spokes of a cartwheel, well… is that any choice at all?"
Alvin closed his eyes, sighed, and let his head fall backwards. His lips moved soundlessly for a moment, and Kallen wondered if he was praying. Then, he reopened his eyes and glared irritably down at her. "You know," he began, his tone pointedly bland, "when I learned that you had chosen to sign up with the ROTC even after I extended an offer to drive Pitt away, I was truly hoping that this was a sign of maturity. I see that I was overly optimistic."
"Maturity?" Kallen hissed incredulously. "I can be plenty mature! I am a model cadet, I will have you know, and I have yet to lose my temper even once! And I have been tempted!"
"Yes, yes," said Alvin, waving her words away, "very impressive. Tell me, Kallen, why is it that you stubbornly refuse to use your brain? You are an incredibly intelligent young lady, and I am proud of you, so it truly hurts me to see you act in such a deliberately stupid fashion."
Almost snorting with anger, Kallen opened her mouth, mentally rolling up her sleeves for a full-contact brawl with this Britannian who dared to tell her how she should think… and paused. This wasn't some Brit bastard; this was Dad.
He only wants the best for us, Kallen. She could almost hear Naoto's non-explanation, repeated so many times over the years. Deep breaths. Act in deliberation, not out of impulse. Tanya's advice was more useful. In and out. In and out. Breathe in, hold… release.
"Alright," Kallen said, meeting her father's eyes as she mimicked his flat tone. "You clearly want me to say something. I clearly don't know what it is. Can we stop with the Socratic method and skip ahead to the part where you tell me what I should be thinking?"
"Kallen…" Alvin paused, and Kallen could almost watch as he mapped out his path through the conversation to whatever objective he had in mind. Not for the first time, she wondered who, exactly, her father was. "I don't object to your determination or your resolve," he said, cushioning his statement, "but you are far too prone to a binary mode of thinking. Us versus them, right versus wrong, etcetera.
"In truth, very little in life is as cleanly cut as all that. Take, for instance, the divide between Britannian and Japanese. You hate Britannia, but you have friends who are Britannian, don't you? You love Japan and the Japanese, but surely you have encountered bastards who speak your mother-tongue? There can be good Britannians and bad Japanese, and already that clear division between good and bad begins to blur on anecdotal experience alone."
"Sure, there's assholes everywhere," Kallen interrupted with deliberate crudeness. "But that doesn't mean that Britannia isn't evil."
"Kallen…" Alvin looked increasingly pained. "Please, just… Just listen, alright? There's a good girl. Now, binary thinking is comfortable and easy; it will also lead you to incorrect conclusions. Now, I am a Britannian, by birth and by upbringing. Yet I gave Naoto, my son, my money and my blessing to go forth and undermine His Imperial Majesty's law in Area 11. When I did this, it was not treason. If Naoto had been arrested before he became a rebel, I could have easily removed him from the cells and his arrest from the record.
"This is because 'us and them' only exist so far as both blocs can remain coherent. As soon as you find leverage into the individuals or the factions below the giant defining masks, understandings can be worked out. Agreements can be made. Blackmail and bribes trade hands."
"You're not answering your own question," Kallen pointed out. "You asked what I thought you should do with me, and you're just rambling on about philosophy."
Her father gave her a dirty look but sighed. "Fine. Kallen, you clearly cannot remain unsupervised. As your father, I find myself obligated to intervene for your own protection. For some reason, I cannot protect Naoto from his own stupidity and I would have better luck taking over the Fuji Special District than I would prying Hitomi away from her son. You, however, I can keep safe from the worst consequences of your own rash decisions."
"You can't stop me." Kallen didn't spit defiance; it was the simple truth. "I will never stop fighting for Japan. I am not Britannian, not where it counts."
"What makes you think I want you to stop fighting?" Alvin smiled, a hard-edged thing that gleamed with friendly malice. "For that matter, what makes you think that I want you to stop fighting Britannians? Again, Kallen, it isn't a matter of us and them, it's a matter of us and us and us, with 'them' being a fluid category for whoever isn't us at this very moment. And in Area 11, the Japanese are the least of the Empire's concerns." His mustache twitched at some private joke. "Consider it a favor, from a patriarch to his heir, that I shall be providing you the tools to serve His Imperial Majesty's interests without shedding a drop of Japanese blood."
"What…" Kallen frowned, finding that the conversation had turned in her hands like a snake, and now she was the one on the backfoot. "What do you mean? How could I possibly help Britannia and not be abandoning the Japanese? Your whole damned empire is fighting the Japanese!"
"Britannia isn't fighting the Japanese," Alvin scoffed. "The Japanese aren't worth fighting. It'd be like saying exterminators fight rats, or that gardeners fight weeds. They don't. His Highness might like to describe the occupation as a matter of life and death for the health of the Empire, but not on account of the Japanese. No, his real concern is the Chinese or the Europeans taking advantage of the chaos to stick their own oars into our pond, and even with that in mind his reports seethe with hyperbole. So no, the Administration isn't fighting the Japanese; they are simply conducting pest control operations."
The dismissive words tore at Kallen's heart, and from the wounds bubbling rage seeped. Face twisted, she opened her mouth, although what she could say in refutation was anybody's guess, but already her father was holding up a hand to forestall her. "I am not saying that the Japanese are vermin, mind you, nor am I saying that Naoto's efforts are destined for failure. I'm simply saying that the locals are too weak to give the Army the proper, stand-up fight for which they hunger. The kind that brings glory and recognition instead of drudgery. Those confrontations are like catnip to a certain strain of military mind, all simple and straightforward and proper. The insurgents present an adversary of sorts, an obstacle certainly, but Japan isn't a proper enemy, not one worth their full attention."
"...I don't understand," Kallen admitted, feeling the spike of rage peter away into something like grief at her father's frank assessment.
"Good, good!" Alvin praised, bobbing his head approvingly. "Admitting as much is the first step."
He's trying to teach me something… Kallen knew that much already, but… What is the lesson here? That Britannia isn't united? That's obvious, with the Purists running around. That the real threat is a foreign invasion? I suppose, but the Chinese are too busy being pushed up the Malay Peninsula and out of Indochina, and if the news isn't complete bullshit the EU is desperately trying to prop up the Middle Eastern Federation facing Cornelia's invasion. So… Who is the real enemy in Area 11, then?
And… How does he know all about this? Again, who are you, Dad? You know far, far too much…
"But," Alvin continued, "that is only the first step."
Drawing himself up to his full height, a weight seemed to settle over her father's shoulders as he peered down at her. Kallen met him look for stony look, still uncertain about all her father had said but determined not to submit.
Baron Alvin of New Leicester smiled as he folded his hands neatly behind his back. "Moving forwards, Lady Kallen, I will be overseeing your training. For the next few months at least. To be clear, this isn't a punishment, nor is it entirely a corrective measure. I have neglected my duties as Head of House Stadtfeld and as your father for far too long. There is much that I should have taught you by now, but… I was always busy. This ends here."
It was everything Kallen had wished for years, delivered at the most inopportune time.
"Well, I'm busy now," Kallen retorted, savagely pushing down Kallie and her sudden eagerness for time with Dad. "You were too late, and now I have my obligations to tend to! For starters," she gestured at her stinking uniform, "I'm a cadet, sworn to the Army. My days aren't my own!"
"Major Pitt doesn't have the spine to stand in the way of a father-daughter outing," Lord Stadtfeld asserted, eyes cold. "Men desperate enough to bait in teenagers in service of supporting their decrepit careers are generally locked into those careers for excellent reason, most often a gratuitous lack of competency, a gratuitous abundance of cowardice, or both."
"Well, I still need to learn how to pilot a Knightmare, let alone how to be a 'good soldier of the Empire'," Kallen shot back, and wondered why she was pushing back so hard against this. "How the hell are you going to train me to be a pilot or a soldier when, to my knowledge, you've never been either?"
"Pilots can be purchased," Lord Stadtfeld riposted. "Like practically everything in this world, skilled individuals are available for sale, should the buyer have the correct currency in the necessary amount."
He's not giving up, Kallen realized wonderingly. New Leicester isn't exactly rich either, and pilots skilled enough to teach don't grow on trees! But… If he's willing to throw around cash on this… Maybe I could convince him to buy a simulator too? Or even a real, actual Knightmare!
Alvin's lips parted in a smile and Kallen cursed herself, certain that her father had, once again, read her thoughts like words on a page.
"That really must be corrected as well," Lord Stadtfeld pointed out. "No peer of the realm should be so easily read. You might be tolerable – barely – as a provincial schoolgirl, but as the heiress to a Homeland barony, well… failing grade, I'm afraid."
I'm not getting out of this, Kallen thought, a numb sense of horror mixed with a strange relief, almost a joy, suffusing her limbs. Can't escape to Ashford without Pitt sending me back, can't escape to Shinjuku without breaking Tanya's orders… Can't stay here, not with the drunken hag…
"So," Kallen tried for a perky smile, as if she hadn't just knuckled under her father's persistent demands, "some father-daughter bonding time, huh? Sounds… Well, what do you have in mind?"
The bastard smiled. "Oh, I was thinking about an educational trip, for a start. After all, if you want to be a Knightmare pilot, I would say that you owe yourself a trip to Itsukushima. It could be quite valuable for you to visit the site of the only defeat suffered by Britannian Knightmares at the Japanese hands, wouldn't you agree?"
"And…" said Kallen, something like understanding finally entering her mind as some of her father's earlier words sank in at last. "What's the real reason we're going to Itsukushima, Dad?"
"That's my girl!" Alvin laughed, his baronial authority fleeing at once. "Why, that's just on the other side of Hiroshima Bay from where the new Bureau office is being established in the Hiroshima Settlement! It would be rude not to drop by and offer my congratulations to the opposition, now that they've finally entered the game in Area 11."