Chapter Eleven: So Goes The Nation
Arc Three: The Big Show
Opening: "Kikai Jikake no Cinderella" - Eliza
Suzaku sighed as he examined Lelouch's chest. His eye swerved side to side, examining the images presented to him for evaluation.
"I like the blue one."
"Of course you do."
Lelouch threw down the grey on green tie in his left hand with disdain, before pulling the blue fabric around his neck, commenting "Probably for the best."
"You asked."
Lelouch and Suzaku collectively fell into a brief lull, as they both got dressed for the Convention. Suzaku was looking forward to being able to relax with his friends and watch some interesting presentations, and while he knew Lelouch had other objectives, he also knew his friend was looking forward to some time off. It was a relatively formal affair, above their normal business casual, and so the arguments over what to wear had begun in earnest. Lelouch was planning on going with a compromise look, with a single breasted one, button black jacket with purple inserts in his notched lapel, whereas Suzaku was sticking with a more traditional look, with a white and black jacket with a smooth shawl lapel. Neither was fully certain of the fashion opinions of the other, but neither wanted to ask Milly, for fear of being forced to go in a thong.
The room was littered with clothes that had been discarded in much the same manner as the dark tie had been, with the fabric floor absorbing thumps and falls as the television played Diethard Reid in half sound in the corner.
"I…" Lelouch began, reaching for a cuff link across his desk, "have a proclamation to make."
Suzaku rolled his eyes at his friends dramatic tone, before lazily responding "Yes, your majesty?" with no lack of sarcasm.
"I, Lelouch Vi Britannia, do declare that as Diethard Reid goes, so goes the country." Lelouch announced with no lack of grandiose and a full appreciation for the irony.
Suzaku's response was to laugh. It was hardly a groundbreaking feat of political analysis to announce that the opinions of Diethard Reid were reflective of the Britannian society. After finishing his chuckling, Suzaku responded with "Lelouch, you're not meant to start drinking until after the keynote speech."
"Suzaku, I'm being serious."
"So am I you plonker. Even Ohgi could have told me that little nugget."
Lelouch smiled and waved a hand in a sort of surrender, acknowledging Suzaku was right, before explaining "I see what you're saying, but that's not my point."
"I am bestilled with bated breath Lelouch."
"The point-" Lelouch, returning to his grandiose, royal voice used for speechifying and goofing around, "-is that if Reid is at his... point, if Reid declares a line in the sand, Britannia is lost. He is the standard bearer. Thus, we need a media figure to amplify our cause."
"Is the circus loaning performers, or will you have to do it?"
Lelouch scowled at Suzaku's lack of seriousness, before Suzaku got the last hints of laughter out of his lungs. "Perhaps I'd be less inclined to mock if you didn't sound like a parody of your father. Sure, a spokesperson on local media is something we probably should get onto, but making jokes about Maine doesn't help your case."
Lelouch made an indignant face as he assembled his blazer, as Suzaku continued with "Speaking of, how's your end of the project going?"
Lelouch shrugged. "All right. It's going slow, but that's what happens when you want to avoid fraud laws."
While Suzaku and Ohgi had been working from the bottom up, Lelouch had been using the wealth not poured into their currency buying up Sakuradite mines that had gone bust in the initial crash, before handing them off to Suzaku and Ohgi to staff with Japanese workers paid in the Yen. Now, they controlled not just production of some Knightmares, but the source of Sakuradite, like a tap that relied on all internal currency.
This, Suzaku declared mentally, assuming in his imagination the same grandiose posture and deep, booming voice Lelouch had just put on as he set his shoes down, was what economic independence looked like. Every part of this system, excepting the sale of produce, happened without reliance or input from Britannia. When independence occurred, the transition would be seamless, for in all but name it was already the case. At least, it would be. There was still a way to go.
"Suzaku, are you going to put those shoes on?"
Suzaku snapped out of his stupor to tie his laces as Lelouch fixed his hair, busying themselves amidst the busy room.
"So other than Diethard Reid being the new Walter Cronkite-" Suzaku retorted, concluding Lelouch's metaphor as he finished his laces before reaching for gloves through the mess of a room, "-and the plot to overthrow Britannia going in your words 'All right', what else is happening?"
"Hey now, none of that, I've been doing good work for Yuaikai." Lelouch chuckled, feigning disgruntlement as he applied clay to his fringe. "But… actually, scratch that, in other news, I feel betrayed at the moment, I truly do."
Fearing this to be another joke, Suzaku, arms buried in clothes called over his shoulder "Oh do you now? What went missing from the fridge this time?" in a pre-emptive attack that would make Charles Zi Britannia proud.
"Enough about the damn fridge, I've long stopped caring and just bought a cooler for my room."
"How economical."
"Suzaku, just look at the damn television and see what I'm on about."
Suddenly curious, Suzaku half turned to see an image of a grumpy Jeremiah Gottwald, escorting an even grumpier Villetta Nu, which surprised him vastly.
"Eh?"
"I'm glad you share my sentiments, though 'Eh?' would not be my first choice of word."
Suzaku didn't respond initially, still thinking over what this meant. Jeremiah returning as what appeared to be Cornelia's personal assistant was hardly surprising, and even somewhat amusing with the Schadenfreude that came with the idea of Gottwald, fresh from his disgrace at Asplunds failed Lancelot project, being forced into menial tasks to restore whatever status was salvageable.
However amusing that image was though,it was in harsh contrast to the fact that Villetta was there. From what Suzaku could gather, Villetta had just been released by Zero, and had been picked up and was being returned to the palace. Jeremiah was escorting, nearly harassing her towards the building, likely for his sins.
"Curious." came Lelouch's final thought, which Suzaku buttressed with "You're right. Why now? It makes too little sense. It doesn't fit Zero."
"Perhaps it's not ideological. Where does it say she was dropped off?"
"She claims she was left at the Finance Office, just by the Palace. Police intercepted her moments later." Suzaku explained, reading the banner running below the footage. "Why there? She could go anywhere."
"Hence, betrayal." Lelouch explained. "If Zero had done whatever was necessary, interrogation, or whatever, and wanted to release her, for whatever reason, he could have just put her on a bus to literally anywhere. This stinks of conspiracy, and I don't like it. It sullies the cause no matter how you slice it."
"I think that thought has occurred to the Britannians judging by the looks she's getting."
"Mm…"
From there, the room quieted as they completed their respective looks with finishing touches, putting on the ritz as they met by the door into the hall.
"Ready?"
"Mm."
Lelouch pulled up his collar and swing his coat around his back, with Suzaku grabbing his phone as they went out the door. As the pair went out to meet the Council at the front entrance, hoping to avoid the mocks of Milly and the stress of work, far away someone else was looking forward to a break from the norm.
"Alright, break time lads."
Minoru Hatake breathed a sigh of relief, swiping his brow with the cuff of his dirty sleeve as he stood up to move from the dusty, brown room to the breakers yard outside where his colleagues were beginning to rest their backs. He saw the worn out men sharing a beer round a circular bench, cheerfully bantering. Walking his stiff legs over and planting his scrawny bum onto the wooden plank, he received nods from the tired workers, all trying to catch their energy under the hot setting sun, painting the sky purple.
After wiping his hands off his trousers, he was passed over the last few drips of the cold, sour beer, downing it graciously before joining the back and forth, his harsh, drawn skin pulling against his cheap, collarless shirt.
They were all labourers, some of them all the way back in pre-Invasion Japan, who went from building site to mine to other construction project, hoping to scrounge a few days work. While life was hard under Britannia, they were just surviving, too closely balanced between exhaustion and starvation to care about the struggle he was vaguely aware of happening just above his head between Nationalists and Britannians. He simply tried to survive, and it stood to him. In spite of his slender frame and admittedly simple mind, Minoru had the stamina of a mule, and made little fuss. He was a quiet, unambitious lad, who just wanted to live in some modicum of comfort through hard work. The classic Britannian dream. And while all had been working out at an average pace, surviving day to day with little discretionary, he managed.
Then came the downward turn, the crash he had heard it called. Suddenly, no one wanted to hire him, as places he used to help out at suddenly stopped opening their quiet, lonely gates. He grew desperate, seeking ever more degrading tasks to pacify his contracting stomach, to sparse avail. While affairs of politics and national identity flew over his head, a lack of food flew right into his stomachs field of awareness.
He knew this to be the case for the majority of his friends, some of whom had not survived the last few months. He himself had been close to death at times, yet after weeks of brinkmanship, opportunity all but sought him out. Suddenly, industrial projects were springing up within the Ghetto itself, such as the one he currently worked at. What they did was buy waste materials and equipment, breaking them down for their constituent materials such as steel and copper, before the raw materials were sold on. What was unique was that, to Minoru's surprise, they were not paid in Dollars. They were being paid in a new thing, called Yen after the old currency he barely remembered from youth, but nothing alike the ancient money in appearance. He wasn't certain what its worth was, but a brief investigation proved that stalls and sellers throughout the Ghetto, suddenly cleaner and brighter than they used to be, accepted it with glee.
And so began his new job, dragging out larger pieces of scrap for individual breakdown. It was hard work, but reliable, secure, and given what the Yen could buy about the Ghetto, well paid. His foreman even allowed regular breaks and time off, mentioning it led to increased performance when on the job. Indeed, he would argue it had, but for the first time in years he had time to do other things, such as relax, or socialise, drink, or just sleep. He was happy, and whoever was behind this project for the Yen and various businesses throughout the Ghetto had his blessing.
The second can of beer had finished its round, and so the break time cry chimed again, signalling a return to work. He stood up sharply, the heels of his hands pressing into his knees to push him up from his seated position as he moved back towards his task. He leaned in, gripping the end of a broken pylon with both hands and dragging it with his back and heels into the clearing to be stripped, taking a moment to stretch before beginning again.
After repeating the task for a pleasant time, the hot quiet of the day was interrupted by the arrival of an unwelcome guest.
It was a slow buzz at first, indistinguishable from the dull drone of cicadas over the summer dried slum, however it grew more intense, towards a more consistent whir that seemed to dominate Minoru's eardrums even in spite of its smooth tune, full of dips and accelerations in pitch yet retaining a constant, syrupy buzz that grew to a roaring whir, like a jet engine absorbing all in its path.
But it was not a jet engine, as Minoru was quick to realise, for he'd heard the loud roar once before, though too many years ago to name it.
And it revealed itself, a massive, gross beast of metal, standing on legs that arched back and arms that ended in rifles and blades, easily twelve feet tall in their steel, nightmarish and real.
And the damage they wrought was just as real, as steel flew away from their kicking legs like paper fluttering about an office, coming to loud, jarring stops on top of buildings, and people, as one unfortunate worker discovered, his outstretched arm ripping off in the face of the momentum of the falling latticework.
As Minoru ran over to help his maimed colleague, a voice shot out into the chaos, female, angry, and likely amplified.
"Enough, ceasefire!"
The huge metallic beast halted, drawing its visual mass to a standstill remarkably, nearly unnervingly quickly. Its noise ran down slowly, to the point Minoru felt his eardrums might not explode. It was followed shortly after its stoppage by a series of infantry soldiers, running through the courtyard with rifles trained on the workers, including a barrel specially for Minoru that stopped him like a rabbit in the headlights.
"Away!" roared the soldier, swinging his gun to the left to signal him away from his coworker. While his English left much to be desired, he understood the simple instruction, moving away with his hands above his head as the other soldiers circled the wounded man. Meanwhile, the soldier on Minoru slammed his chest with the butt of his gun, sending him falling to the ground as a smaller group entered the courtyard, walking slowly this time. They were led by a pair of officers in high military dress, and centred around a woman, helmetless and pink haired with ostentatious bronze and purple gown lined with medals and honours. She appraised the situation briefly, her eyes swivelling from the maimed worker, to one whose shock had rendered them unconscious, to him.
"Eleven!" she roared in rich, accented English. "Where is your employer?"
A combination of sudden shock and lack of ability to speak in a way which was comprehensible resulted in a foot to the gut from the masked soldier standing above him as the woman stepped slowly over to him, roaring "Listen well! My name is Cornelia Li Britannia, and with God as my witness, you will tell me where your employer is!"
Minoru weakly pointed towards a shack at the head of the yard, windowless but for the open door frame. Immediately, she kicked him over onto his front, before striding over to the building and hauling the poor man inside out by the neck, slamming him down against the steel plate wall.
Minoru could barely see and hear what was happening, his vision blackening, his ears filling with blood from wounds he couldn't feel. Life happened in still images, as Cornelia roared a question, and hit the man again. He roared out in pain, down on his haunches. A kick to the ribs. A cry.
"Yuaikai!"
Cornelia stopped, and looked thoughtful, thanking the man before pulling out an old pistol.
Minoru reached outwards, his tendons stretching at the bit. Ayato was his friend, who had given him a chance, had employed him, had begun his return to a functioning member of society with this job. Without him…
"Ay...a...to…"
Click.
Ayato paused briefly, before his head recoiled downwards, slamming against the dirt and bouncing back, staining the dry dirt red with little volition towards his neck. There was no loud bang, but Ayato concluded his puppet like shaking with an unnatural stillness. The Princess turned away, ignoring the corpse before conversing.
"Look into Yuaikai. This may be another upstart group, but we shouldn't need to much at this point."
A group of nods surrounded her, as a man, whom he had not yet seen, ran up to Cornelia and told her at just a loud enough volume for Minoru to hear, before he blacked out, a sentence he didn't understand.
"There's a problem, at the Convention with Euphemia."
"Yeah, I'm sorry I can't make it. I'm not feeling brilliant, but I'll see you on Monday. I can usually shrug these off over a weekend, so hopefully I can be back in time."
The voice on the other end of the line gave a genial agreement and encouragement, before hanging up. Sighing, Zero's head shook, still hidden beneath his infamous mask that had captured the imagination of the Britannian media. While Zero's public life had grown to become the most important part of the terrorists life, Zero still had to deal with the mundanities of everyday life. The most critical element of being above suspicion was the maintenance of an ordinary life, and disappearing off the face of the earth with no explanation would certainly qualify as suspicious.
However, even as the human element of Zero feigned excuses, the character had began to exert its pressures on the rebel. beneath. Of particular note was the news of this new Yuaikai group, and the killing of several steel workers.
It was an outrage, of course, for any Japanese workers to die under the boot of the Britannians, however the matter proved far more troublesome, as their employers had been making waves within the local community, if not the press, which had fawned over the flamboyant Zero and allowed the freedom fighter to leapfrog into prominence.
Zero was not stupid. Beneath the grandeur and the showmanship, Zero and his muse cared deeply about justice in its totality, and so welcomed the initiative initially, though reservations were held on the assumption that the effort was a naive one, however as the situation developed, Zero realized that the potential existed for the Black Knights to quickly be marginalized if the situation was left unchecked.
Working with moderates fostered moderates, and Yuaikai were practically marshmallows, urging nonviolent practices and promoting an economic resolution. At this time, that idealistic approach, a siren song, could entice the Japanese, which would be a disaster, as the method would never work. The Black Knights, though yet not publically in existence, had met to discuss this problem of public support, which had been a great source of stress for Zero. It had been argued by a low ranking officer that accelerationism was the way forward. If they attacked Britannia enough, they could get the jingoistic figures in Britannia to strike back, showing that the Britannians had to be fought violently, giving them hegemony over the Japanese resistance movements.
Zero had removed him on the spot. They were to represent justice, and if they faced difficulties in achieving the public support, they would have to use their weapons to save the innocent, not attack the guilty. What they needed was a way to reintroduce themselves as agents of justice, to get a foot in the door.
Of course, that still left the Yuaikai. They were on the same side, however their separate efforts divided and ate at each other rather than added. Yuaikai was not an enemy, but at this time they were not an ally, and Zero feared that arrangement could not last, or else the Japanese community would be too divided to proceed.
Zero took off the mask and sighed again, before taking a drink of water to ease the increasing sweat that poured through the terrorists hair. Perhaps health was more of a concern than was joked over the phone and in excuses.
"Zero? You may want to look at this, Kusekabe's lost his mind and attacked the Britannians!"
This is the real Chapter 14, if we go by the FFN listings. If you are reading this, the order ought to be this, Whatever Happened to the Popular Front, and then a Flashback. I apologise for any trouble caused.
Teenage girls getting ready for a party. This was how a friend of mine described the opening scene to this Chapter, with Lelouch and Suzaku picking out clothes and taking shots at each other. I can definitely see it, though I've tried to keep the goofiness in character. I also noted I was using exposition a tad, and tried to use Minoru as a muse to demonstrate what was happening on the ground. A few things have been brought up over this Chapter that will not be of importance for some time, so I would ask for some patience. All will be made clear with time.
In any case, thank you so much for joining me, and I hope you'll be with me in the Chapter 12 of For Hearts And Minds, Whatever happened to the Popular Front? In the meantime, stay safe, join a Union, and rate and review!
~Eth0