AN: Here ya go. Enjoy!
Arc II: The Fast Game
Part 5: Shall we Adjourn?
Britannian Special Honorary Foreign Legion, Alpha Squad Mission Log
Date: 29/12/2017
Location: Miyazaki Prefecture, Area 11, H.B.E.
20:00
Primary Objective: Capture of Target alive.
Secondary Objective: Capture of Dependent alive.
Use of lethal force has been authorized.
Systems calibrating complete…Special Tactical Operations - Risk Model online…
Commencing operation
Breaching door in 3…2…1…
"Door's down! Secure target!"
20:01
Initializing facial recognition…Identity of Primary Target confirmed. All agents engage and detain Sayoko Shinozaki.
20:04
"Damn it! She's better than she looks!"
Analyzing movement patterns…crosschecking fighting stance with database…database match completed. Taijutsu is a Japanese martial art and a method of unarmed close combat with a focus on grappling moves. Engaging in close quarter combat is not advised.
20:05
"As if I didn't know that already."
"Just do your job."
"Yeah, yeah, I'm on it…alright Eleven, let's tango!"
20:10
WARNING! WARNING! Detecting multiple explosions and sakuradite emissions in nearby vicinity. Hostile KMFs are inbound. Britannian Military Intelligence suggests these are JLF Burais.
"Fucking 'levens are invading already! This is mission is now FUBAR."
"We need to get this over with quickly, Dalque."
"I know that Sancia, but the bitch is tough."
20:13
Mission override authorization code accepted. New mission parameters received…updating system log…
20:14
"What the fuck?"
Primary Objective: Extract Princess Nunnally vi Britannia from Miyazaki safely.
Secondary Objective: Secure Sayoko Shinozaki.
"Are you reading what I'm reading?"
"Copy that, Dalque. Looks like orders from the higher ups."
"You mean OSI?"
"Probably."
"Shit."
20:15
WARNING! WARNING! Hostile identified near Princess Nunnally. Thrusters activated.
"Hostile intercepted."
"You certainly showed those katana wielding maniacs who's the boss!"
"You enjoy violence far too much to be healthy, Dalque."
"It's great stress relief. Hey Shinozaki, listen up. Our objectives have changed. High Command wants us to extract you and Princess vi Britannia from Miyazaki before the violence further escalates. Do you understand?"
"How am I sure this is not some trick?"
"You don't really have a choice here. We're the only ones that can get you out, especially with those damn Burais patrolling outside."
"Very well…but if any harm befalls the Mistress, you will be the first to die."
20:16
Agents Alice and Lucretia are inbound. Alpha Squad has been authorized use of KMFs.
"Hell yeah! Our cavalry finally arrives."
"The mission isn't over yet."
"Pssh, you know that these Japs don't stand a chance against the four of us in knightmare combat."
"…True."
20:18
Standby for KMF drop.
"Nice of you guys to finally join the party. How's Tokyo faring?"
"Prince Clovis is safe, if that's what you're asking Dalque. Alice and I were able to reach him in time. Now suit up and get ready for breakout. Entire city's surrounded."
The once great port city of Tunis was now nothing more than a collection of hole-ridden buildings and crater-filled streets. It was ironic that the Imperial Capital of Area 17, the most prosperous city for hundreds of kilometers around, had been reduced to such a deplorable state in just four months of war.
Then again, being the site of not one, but two major battles in such a short span of time was sure to take its toll. It was the center of the region strategically, economically and, therefore, militarily as well.
As the old chess adage says, "control the center, control the game."
That's what the war was, after all. It was just one grand game and the armies were mere pieces between two colossal forces of man. If it was public knowledge, many would have thought Lelouch callous - or even heartless - for considering his men more pawns than people.
In truth, it was a coping mechanism, a quirk that made the burden of command – the overwhelmingly oppressive obligation to send men to their untimely deaths - just a little easier for the seventeen year old boy.
It was a necessary sin, for unnecessary hesitation against a tactician as gifted as Rommel would result in a disastrous rout. Given how the majority of the civilian populace remained on the Britannian side of the city, countless innocents would perish in the anarchy following a defeat.
Humans, soldiers especially, were prone to committing intolerably inhumane acts when chaos ruled the battlefield.
Until now, both sides had remained at a standstill, neither refusing to give way to the other even as they split the city into two. The halves would only be reunited when one was pushed out…by force.
That would begin today.
"Hurry up!" The man hissed to his athletic companion. "We've got to get in position."
"Easy for you to say." grumbled the other with a heavy pant. "You're not lugging around this thing." He continued, his head gesturing to the oddly shaped duffel bag sagging in his hands.
"You poor boy…need a hug to make you feel better?" quipped the man, not a hint of sympathy could be traced in his voice.
The pack mule scoffed at his offer, the sarcasm clearly not lost on him. With slow, deliberate steps, he made his way to one of the building's windows and set down the bag, before unzipping it to reveal its metallic residents. "Go do your job." He answered pointedly.
The man dropped to his knees and began taking the pieces in his hands, giving each component the one over before putting them together. Once completed, he slung the cylindrical device over his shoulder and looked through the eyepiece and pulled the trigger.
BOOM!
The two stared at the device's devastatingly destructive effect, gaping openly. From their vantage point, the smoldering wreckage of a knightmare frame was visible, with soldiers running about it in panic.
Finally, one spoke up, breaking the silence that had befallen them. "Britannians make the coolest shit."
His friend could only nod in agreement.
Boom!
Explosions resounded in the night sky, a relentless barrage of noise that refused to give the Europeans the mercy of sleep. Each terrifying, thundering boom served as a count for the Britannians.
Boom!
Another European frame obliterated.
Boom!
One step closer to victory…
Boom!
"The local SMAKDOWN teams we've sent are proving quite effective, Your Highness. They're raising hell for the EU by hunting down those pesky machines of theirs." Jeremiah noted with grudging approval.
Lelouch smirked in a way that implied his plans were coming along nicely, but his eyes remained stoically locked on the screen. "This battle's gone on for long enough. Have the captured Bamides been prepared?"
"Yes sir."
"Send them out." ordered Lelouch. "Inform all units to begin the advance."
A flashing icon on the lower right corner of his screen appeared. Without hesitation, Lelouch tapped on it with his finger, the monitor responding to the pressure of finger on glass.
An irritable scowl replaced Lelouch's reserved expression.
"You've got to be kidding me."
A Bamide frame clumsily moved deeper into the city, its Britannian pilot unaccustomed with the strange controls necessary to operate it properly. True, the frame was technically a knightmare. That didn't mean that its design held any similarity to the Sutherland that was the standard for Britannia. Nevertheless, it got the job done, managing to scare off any remaining EU infantry in the vicinity, mainly because there was frankly nothing in their arsenal that could realistically take down a knightmare frame.
The EU was fairly new to the multitrillion industry that was knightmare frame production, and relied on the quality, as opposed to the quantity, of their frames. This was, in theory, all well and sound had they been facing a conventional enemy.
Unfortunately for them, they were facing Lelouch vi Britannia, who had somehow managed to find and deploy an effective counter so quickly it made one wonder if the young prince had the power to see into the future.
Prophetic powers aside, the new and still unknown weaponry had been used to devastating effect, hunting down the Gardemares and Panzer-Hummels until none remained in the city. Those that were on the outside were held back for fear that they would meet the same fate as their predecessors.
It was not an entirely unreasonable concern after all.
With the appearance of Bamides in the hands of their enemy, the ever present threat of being pounded by battleship fire and an upsurge in skirmishes all across the city, Rommel was left with one course of action.
Retreat. To stay and fight would end in the systematic removal of his forces and ridiculously high casualties on both sides as the Stalingrad-esque battle continued. Sure the EU could dig in and make things extremely difficult, perhaps prolonging conflict for months on end, but Rommel found this kind of attrition warfare distasteful.
So on the 28th of November in the 2017th year of Ascension Throne Britannia, the EU's 2nd Division under Erwin Rommel withdrew from the city of Tunis.
Clovis gave his subordinates a stern look.
It was a face that they had become increasingly acquainted with these past few weeks. To say that the Prince was displeased with his military officers was the understatement of the year.
"You are all terrible at your jobs." Clovis informed them bluntly, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "The JLF actually managed to pull off an attack on me. Me!" He exclaimed, hands shooting into the air to express the frustration he no doubt felt. "And what's worse, when I tried to call for knightmare support, the local base commanders couldn't send me any. No, I had to rely on Irregulars to save me." He let his men wither under a scathing look before continuing. "And now, I come back to find my Area practically in civil war. Can anybody explain this to me?"
There was a moment of silence as the assembled military men looked at each other, as if telepathically conversing to determine if his question was rhetorical or not.
"Your Highness, JLF attacks were in coordination with Federation agents." began Kewell, the bravest among those present, it seemed. "What's more, intelligence has uncovered the reason their attacks have been so successful as of late." The room's projector flashed an image of what seemed to be schematics for a bomb onto the wall. "The JLF has been using EMPs to neutralize our military capabilities, allowing them to achieve key objectives without any serious opposition. It is for this reason, I'm afraid to say, that they have been successful as of late and why they very nearly succeeded against you."
"We do have good news, Your Highness." Bartley inserted quickly, much to Kewell's chagrin. "We've crushed the JLF completely in Tokyo."
"Only for them to snatch Kyushu!" snapped Clovis at his advisor, having none of it today. "They've all but driven us out of the island! Why haven't we done anything to rectify the situation?"
"Viceroy, perhaps there is a peaceful way to resolve this crisis?"
All eyes in the room turned to the source of those words, making its owner, one Euphemia Britannia, squirm in her sear from the sudden attention.
Clovis considered her words for a moment, more for show than anything else. "That is a commendable suggestion, Sub-Viceroy. Unfortunately, to negotiate with rebels would set a dangerous precedent and only encourage others to rise against us, just to gain a stronger bargaining position. I cannot and will not tolerate such behavior from our subjects." The Prince gave the Princess an encouraging smile, for her participation was something to be advanced as it was lacking of late.
"With respect, Your Highness, there's not much that we can do. It's next to impossible trying to land reinforcements given the storm that's hitting us."
Clovis' face morphed into an ugly scowl. "Then we must wait and see."
"Wait and see."
"That's your plan?" asked Sugiyama with gritted teeth. "It's not a very good one." He said pointedly.
"On the contrary, I think it's exactly what we should be doing." Kallen said, voicing her support for Ohgi's proposition, much to everyone's shock. The hotheaded ace pilot was often the most vocal opponent of inaction. To see her approach a situation in a style opposite her modus operandi was…unsettling.
It also raised concerns of exactly what that green haired woman had done to their colleague. So far, both parties had refused to comment on the matter.
"And why, pray tell, would doing nothing be a good idea?" Sugiyama pressed; a little hurt that his usual ally in these meetings had apparently turned her back on him.
"Simple." Kallen said, not even a little fazed by the slight venom in his tone. "Any offensive action that we do take now will be inconsequential. The Britannian Army has regrouped already and our opportunity to deal damage has passed. If we are to make any difference in the liberation of Japan, we must lie low and bide our time. What we can do, however, is prepare for when we can make a difference. Waiting and doing nothing isn't the same thing."
"Kallen is correct." Ohgi affirmed. "We will have to recruit more people to our cause and arm ourselves sufficiently so that we will be of any use the next time we are needed to act. Inoue, be on the lookout for knightmare parts. The funds that the Federation has so generously donated to us can be put to good use there. Tamaki, you'll be in charge of recruitment. Yoshida, try to establish contact with the JLF. We'll need to inform them of the Federation's actions. Minami, I'll need you to get in contact with your informants once again and coordinate with Yoshida on a potential list of targets we can hit. Kallen-"
"I'll be keeping a low profile in the Academy, as always." Kallen, with some dismay, interjected before he could finish. This line of conversation was all too familiar to her. Despite her newer, more thought out approach to handling things, she still resented that they insist she continue playing schoolgirl. It didn't surprise her that, despite being the most formidable among them in combat, they still couldn't help but view her as a child.
What did surprise her was Ohgi's "No" in response to her presumptiveness. "Actually, I have something else in mind for you to do." Kallen noticeably sat up straighter, paying close attention to his next few words. Non-combat assignments were few and far between for her. "On top of keeping up your regular undercover life, I'm also placing you at the head of training any new recruits we have. I trust it won't be a problem for you?" Ohgi asked, giving her a broad, knowing smile.
"O-of course not, Ohgi!" Kallen answered giddily, the excitement she felt extremely evident. "I won't let you down."
"Greetings, Honored Ministers of the Union." Schneizel began flatteringly. Always begin diplomatic negotiations with flattery. "I am Schneizel el Britannia, Lord High Chancellor and Prime Minister of the Holy Britannian Empire." Then follow it up with an introduction and an emphasis of your own importance, just so they take you seriously.
"Our two nations have coexisted peacefully for the longest of times." The longest of which was about 4 years, actually. "And why not? Peace among our nations has brought us prosperity, trade and wealth!" Remind them of the good ol' days. "Then, less than a month ago, our two states were sadly forced into open warfare. I will not waste time here pointing fingers and shifting blame for the cause of hostilities." It was their fault.
"It matters not at this point." Bullshit. "What does matter is that for every hour we continue with this pointless conflict, more precious lives are lost to the perils of war; brave, young Britannians and Europeans alike laying down their lives for no purpose. We are all civilized people here. War should be the exception, not the rule, for our problems. Therefore, I come to you now so that we may resolve our problems in a peaceful manner."
The President of the EU, François Lamartine, was the one to speak on behalf of the European Congress. "What are the demands of your Emperor?" The aged Frenchman asked wearily, his voice betraying how he felt to all present. He had lived through more than his fair share of these talks, and no doubt found mincing words and rubbing elbows quite tedious by now.
With elections coming up soon, Schneizel understood he was ready to retire and would refuse to run once more.
"We only wish to see the status quo achieved once more." Schneizel began diplomatically, a tone he had mastered with Lamartine's predecessor. "The borders of our two great nations have been drastically altered in the few weeks of war. I'm sure it is to everyone's benefit if we were to rectify them to prewar boundaries? For example, I'm sure that the Germans find Greenland a thoroughly uncomfortable place to occupy, and that the Russians would be glad to have Yakutsk returned to them."
"That sounds like a reasonable proposal, Prime Minister. However, I am more concerned with what will happen to North Africa and the Middle East more than anything." Lamartine said.
Though cursing inwardly at having this brought to the spotlight so quickly, the Lord High Chancellor maintained his cordial mask. "I see no reason why these lands should be of any concern in the negotiations. After all, these are sovereign states that we have no jurisdiction over; especially since neither one has been invited here today."
"I'm afraid I must disagree with you there. They are, you could say, the reason why the war began in the first place. As allies and neighbors of the Union, what happens to them is our concern and we are willing to take decisive action in order to safeguard our interests." Lamartine threatened with a smile plastered on his wrinkled face.
Damn that infuriating man to the nine circles of hell!
"What would you suggest, President Lamartine?" One of the councilmen asked.
"I am suggesting we do exactly as Prince Schneizel has proposed." Lamartine said. "We simply return all boundaries to their prewar positions, including those of North Africa and the Middle East. Surely that is what the venerable Prime Minister wanted?" The Frenchman smirked knowingly at his counterpart.
"Not quite, President Lamartine." Schneizel was quick to say. "Surely you wouldn't have my country surrender what we have gained rightfully through conquest? There is no justice in that!"
"There is no justice in conquest in the first place." He countered easily. "And surely you would not have us give up our gains in Greenland, Gibraltar, South Africa and the Falklands for the pittance of land you've taken in Eastern Russia? I think that returning North Africa and the Middle East is…how do they say it?…an equivalent exchange."
The Russian delegation gave the President furious looks at having their country so casually used as a bargaining chip. Not that the man cared.
"I think you greatly downplay the significance of Yakutsk to European economy."
So the two political powerhouses continued to bargain, engaging in a different kind of war altogether. Back and forth they went in a dangerous dance of persuasive arguments and clever rhetoric until a compromise was reached, a middle ground that both tolerated but made neither happy.
The Union would conduct a complete withdrawal from Greenland, Gibraltar, the Falklands and occupied territories of South Africa in exchange for a Britannian withdrawal from Russia and MEF lands.
As for the North African League, it would be disbanded. The current borders, however, would be maintained with a European backed government taking control of the east, while the western half would remain under Britannian rule. The Tunisian-Libyan border would serve as the demarcation point.
Schneizel sighed. Just another day at work...
Lelouch regarded the person before him without a shred of sympathy. The Japanese man had tried and nearly succeeded in trying to kill him, after all. That was not something forgiven easily.
Beside the bound and battered assassin was the captor, standing proudly beside his prisoner. "Excellent work, Suzaku." said Lelouch with a warm smile. Suzaku, he noted, looked little better than his prey, having gone to extraordinary lengths to be successful, most likely.
"Thank you, Prince Lelouch." Suzaku said, bowing low. It made Lelouch feel old, having his own friend greet him so stiffly.
"How many times have I told you, Suzaku? Cut the formalities." Lelouch said with jovial cheer. "We're friends after all and Lord Jeremiah is not with us." The man, while undoubtedly loyal, had a tendency of influencing others to act with far too much decorum. "You look like shit, by the way. What happened?"
"After our frames crippled each other, I had a tough time subduing him. It took the better part of an hour to take him down." Suzaku said gruffly. "I've been standing guard over him ever since then."
The Prince stared at him incredulously. "That was two days ago. You're telling me you haven't slept for up to 48 hours?"
"…Maybe."
"Get some sleep, Suzaku." Lelouch said. "That's an order." He added sternly, leaving no room for dissent when his friend looked ready to protest. "I won't have one of my best pilots killing himself from fatigue. You," he pointed to one of his escorts, "make sure he gets a solid 12 hours of sleep. Tie him down to the bed if you have to." Just in case his friend decided to be stubborn.
Lelouch watched as his guard escorted an unwilling Suzaku Kururugi to get some needed rest.
"Going to resort to torture now, Britannia?" Kenji spat out, managing to inflect his voice with a surprising amount of viciousness given his injured state. "You won't get anything out of me."
"To be frank, I don't care much for empty promises." Lelouch started. "And one way or another, you will tell me what you know, Yamashina. My friends from the SIS assure me of it." He promised, just as two men clad in civilian clothing appeared behind him.
"Try to keep him alive men. Remember, the Lord High Chancellor wants a go at him too."
December 1, 2017 (Z Day + 62)
Tunisia-Libya border
Jeremiah Gottwald watched through his binoculars as his lord and prince approach the EU general with but two of his escorts. They were an honor guard chosen randomly from Wolfe's platoon. This distinction should have nominally fallen under the responsibility of the Zero Squad. However, with one still recuperating from sleep deprivation, one in the hospital for post-surgical rest and one being interrogated by the SIS, the Prince had opted to bring Wolfe's men over his last, active guardsman.
Jeremiah was extremely unhappy about this arrangement.
Sure, Wolfe's men had gained quite a reputation as some of the Prince's more fanatical followers. That didn't mean the middle-aged knight-major could trust them with his life.
"You should relax, Sir Gottwald."
Jeremiah jumped around in surprise, hand moving instinctively towards his holstered officer's pistol, before he recognized the voice's owner. "Colonel Ryze!" He said, bringing his hand, which had barely been touching his sidearm, up in a salute. "It's good to see you again, sir."
"At ease, Major." Ryze said. "I just came by to drop off your subordinate."
Jeremiah's eyes darted to the Colonel's side for a fraction of a second. It was enough to recognize the unmistakable form of Eric Maximillan. "Reporting for duty, Sir Gottwald." Maximillan greeted with a lazy salute that made Gottwald frown.
"Will you be heading down there, sir?" Jeremiah asked with more than a tinge of curiosity.
Ryze observed the proceedings unaided by technology, making Lelouch and his companions seem little bigger than his pinky. "I think I'll let the Prince handle this one. He's earned this much, I suppose." said Ryze.
Jeremiah swore he could sense a sliver of pride emanating from the man.
"So you are the mysterious commander that's been giving me all this trouble." Rommel said, giving Lelouch the once-over. "I must admit I'm surprised it turned out to be a prince, much less the so called 'Lost Prince.' It's a pleasure to meet you, though I wish circumstances would have been different."
"Believe me, General Rommel, the pleasure is all mine" Lelouch replied, giving his extended hand a firm shake. "I've been a great fan of your work on Blitzkrieg."
Rommel's grim demeanor cracked open with a smile. Enemy or not, it was still nice to hear one's creation was appreciated. "I never thought I'd have my own tactics used against me. Still, you were a formidable foe and a worthy adversary."
Lelouch beamed under the praise. "Thank you, General."
"We should conduct the prisoner exchange though. The men might be getting anxious."
"Of course, General. I've ordered that your men be treated with care while they were with us. I trust you will find them in good condition."
Rommel tipped his hat towards the young prince. "Much obliged, Prince Lelouch. I can vouch the same with your men. I hope we shall meet under better circumstances next time."
One of Lelouch's guards set down the cooler he was carrying, and promptly withdrew two dainty glasses filled with bubbling, golden brown liquid. "I'll drink to that, General." Lelouch said, as the aide offered them both a glass of champagne.
"To peace." Rommel toasted.
"To peace." Lelouch repeated.
Cling.
"Present, arms!"
Like a well oiled machine, the orderly ranks of footmen saluted in unison. At their head stood the Lord High Chancellor and Prime Minister of the Holy Britannian Empire, 2nd Prince Schneizel el Britannia, 2nd in line to the Imperial Throne and Grand Duke of Nova Scotia.
Behind him was the HMAS Avalon's hull which gleamed under the Mediterranean sun. A faint hum came off of it that indicated its engines were at work keeping the ship, valuing in the eleven digits, from crashing into the ground. It was an impressive sight to behold, a true work that showcased Britannia's military might…powerful…indomitable.
And it was but the first in a series of ships being constructed, if Lelouch's sources were correct.
"Prime Minister Schneizel, what brings you to the front?" inquired a curious Ryze. He was technically the head of all Britannian forces in Tunis because of seniority.
"Colonel Ryze, it's good to see that you are well again." Schneizel said, revealing just how closely he had been watching them. "I was headed back to Pendragon from my meeting in Strasbourg when the Emperor suggested I come and give my brothers a lift."
In short, the Emperor had summoned them back to Pendragon.
"Tell me though," Schneizel continued, "how is Altair doing?"
"The doctors say he is in stable condition." Ryze answered. "Beyond that, they refuse to say more." Their secrecy was to be expected. Client confidentiality for a Royal, of all people, was not something they would break without second thoughts. "Shall I arrange for him to be transported with you to Pendragon, Your Highness?"
"That would be most helpful." The Prime Minister said; eager for an excuse to be left alone with his brother even for a while. "It's been far too long since we last talked." He began as soon as Ryze left them.
"The opportunity never quite came up." Lelouch replied, not feeling even the slightest of guilt. "What's new with the family?"
"Euphemia was appointed Sub-Viceroy of Area 11."
Lelouch's brow shot up at that. "Really now? How did Cornelia take it?"
"Not too well." Schneizel remarked with a grimace. "Remember the Jerusalem siege?"
Lelouch's lower jaw detached itself. "No way! That was because of Euphie's appointment?" He could only nod in response. "Damn, remind me never to get on her bad side."
"You're one to talk, especially after how you dealt with Orion."
Lelouch winced at the accusation. "He was a threat that had to be dealt with. His continued refusal to cooperate would have ended with a total Britannian rout. Besides, he tried to have me and Altair killed by withholding critical support. I merely showed him the same amount of courtesy he showed me. It's not my fault he couldn't handle it."
"That's true enough, I suppose. Don't go making a habit of it though. Father has men watching you even closer now."
Lelouch snorted disdainfully, showing just how much he thought about that. "Please. The Emperor has men watching us anyway and it's not as if he doesn't expect us to begin turning on each other. In fact, I dare say he's counting on it."
To this Schneizel had no reply and wisely decided to steer the conversation towards less volatile matters. "Have you heard of the unrest in Area 11?"
"I thought those were just rumors." Lelouch noted with a deep frown. If they weren't, that meant Nunnally would be in danger.
"They're real all right. The Emperor's been giving Clovis hell over it. It's been one setback after another, militarily. He's even been excluded from the summons to the capital, given the 'urgency and sensitive nature of his work.'" He said, making air quotes at the appropriate words.
"Temporary banishment." Lelouch muttered.
"Basically." Schneizel agreed. "How about we take this inside?" He suggested as the heat began to wear on him.
"If it suits you better." Lelouch answered, smirking.
"Next."
Click.
"Next."
"Lloyd, you're not even watching!" An obviously exasperated Cécile Croomy shouted.
"But Cécileeee," the sociopathic scientist drawled in what a tone that could only be described as whiney, "they're so boring. If those pilots can't hold my attention for more than two seconds, they're obviously not fit to pilot my Lancelot."
Despite the obvious flaws in the argument, his assistant could not come up with a suitable retort and dutifully flipped to the next recording.
"Next."
Click.
"Ne-" Cecile's finger, in typical automated fashion, was already moving to bring up the next clip at the first sound from her boss. "Hold it! Hold it! Stop the presses." Lloyd exclaimed excitedly, sitting up from his reclined position on the sofa. "Who is that?" He pointed at the screen where a badly damaged Argyl was squaring off against four enemy frames.
Cecile combed through her list deftly before arriving at a name and pulling up his file. "Name, Suzaku Kururugi. Age, 17. Joined the army six months ago and is currently a private."
"Suzaku Kururugi…" Lloyd repeated the name hungrily. If Cecile didn't know any better, she might have thought her boss was a pedophile. "That's an Eleven name. How did he get into the Knightmare program?"
"He didn't." Cecile said. "Kururugi was recently drafted as part of the Eleventh Prince's personal guard and what we're seeing is combat footage from North Africa."
"He's perfect." Lloyd said bluntly, literally dancing in joy. "Send him the offer."
"We can't exactly recruit him, Lloyd." Cecile said, drawing circles in her forehead with her thumbs. "He's part of a royal guard. We'd be overstepping our bounds."
"Details, details." Lloyd said dismissively, waving his hand as if the problems were too petty to be worth his attention. "Do you have a dress, Cecile?"
"A…dress?" She looked dumfounded. "What for?"
"I'm going to Pendragon for the party, of course!" He answered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "And I'll need a date."
December 1, 2017
Imperial Joint Command Center "Octagon", Pendragon
Inside the Britannian Army's most important military installation lay a nondescript room with absolutely no physical features that set it apart. The content of the room, however, was anything but undistinguished.
A long table stood in the center of it, and at its head sat the Chief Marshall of the Army Sebastian White. Assembled before him were the highest ranking officers in the Army; all six of the Field Marshalls and the six generals at the head of the branches – the KMF Corps, the Armored Division, the Elite Operations Brigade, the Combat Support Corps, the Infantry Division and, of course, the Military Intelligence Section.
In front of each officer was a stack of papers, neatly compiled. White gestured to it, silently urging his subordinates to share their thoughts on the topic.
"I think it has serious potential." Michael Bradley, Commandant of the Armor Division, stated.
"Of course you would think that." remarked his snide neighbor. "His doctrine favors the use of tanks over KMFs. Doesn't mean it's worth shit."
"I wouldn't be so quick to judge." Cornelia answered, rising to her half-brother's defense. "After all, his unit was the most effective against the EU, even with his lack of frames. That, if anything, else, should be proof enough that his idea has some merit to it."
"That doesn't mean the results can be replicated on the scale that he's suggesting." Alexander Smyth, one of Cornelia's colleagues, said. "And despite the persuasiveness of his arguments, KMFs are an integral part of our army."
It was Commandant Faust of the KMF Corps that came to the Prince's aid, surprisingly, given that it was his arm of the military being criticized. "But he never suggested that we get rid of Knightmares altogether - just that there were ways to fight without them and win."
Sebastian's fingers fell on the table rhythmically as he listened to the discussion. "Recommendations then?"
"His strategy needs more testing. I think we should give him a command of his own." Faust answered.
Bradley was quick to second the motion. "I'd say make him a Brigadier General. His record has been exemplary so far, both in the academy and on the field."
"Anyone against?" Sebastian asked and saw that there were none. Controversial as the KINGS and KNIGHTS doctrine were, no one could deny that he had a head for strategy. "Brigadier General it is. Now on to our next point…"
In front of each officer was a stack of papers, neatly compiled. If one looked closely enough, one might be able to make out the words: "KINGS - Knightmare Independent General Strategy by Lelouch vi Britannia."
"One hour on the clock. Begin."
A gloved hand darted forward, lifting the white king's pawn and setting it down two squares away. In contrast, the black pawn was moved only one step forward. Sensing opportunity, the white king's knight flashed forward, exerting dominance on the central squares, even as black queen's pawn entered the d rank.
So the two brothers continued their struggle, each a genius in his own right and neither refusing to accept defeat. Yet, while their hands executed stratagems, gambits and counter plays and their eyes watching the board like hawks as minds analyzed the positions with frightening speed, they did not keep quiet as most players would do. Instead, they would keep busy speaking on a broad range of topics.
Economics, Politics, History, Psychology, Philosophy…this was not merely a game between two brothers.
This was a dialogue between two great minds.
"How do you find the situation in Area 11?" Schneizel asked as he linked up his knights, while at the same time exerting even more influence over the center. With three pawns, two bishops and two knights firmly entrenched there it was hard to see how it wasn't already in his control.
"The Federation is likely pulling the strings from the shadows. They've been eyeing Japan's sakuradite supplies for years now." Lelouch answered, challenging Schneizel's dark square bishop with a move to h6. Unfortunately, his brother was all too aware of his intentions, and instead moved his to defend it. Not to be fazed, Lelouch went ahead and captured, initiating a series of exchanges. "If they take Japan and manage to hold it, they'll be capable of going toe-to-toe with the Empire in a decade, especially with our overreliance on sakuradite."
Schneizel stared at the board, contemplating his options, before deciding to bring his second knight into play. "The EU is not likely to let them have it though. Area 11 would become a three way battlefield." He watched as Lelouch castled, as expected, and pushed another pawn forward. "Who do you think would win in such a scenario?"
"Certainly not the locals." Lelouch answered with a snort, though he felt a twinge of sympathy. "But in all likelihood, the Federation, if only because of their proximity."
B4. Ndf6. E5. Ng4. The board continued to develop and with each move, the white pieces became even more dominant.
"Really? Interesting." Now it was the White Prince's turn to initiate the exchange, except now with his queen. "I would have thought for certain that victory was assured with the 'People's Prince' on our side."
"'The People's Prince?'" repeated Lelouch, sounding perplexed.
"It's what all the tabloids are calling you now." Schneizel informed him. "I think it has a nice ring to it."
Lelouch rolled his eyes. "I'm not that popular. With the Britannians maybe, but I doubt I've endeared myself to the Numbers."
"Don't underestimate yourself." His brother said, giving the board a pensive look. "Has the SIS learned anything about your would be assassin? Yamashina, was it?"
Lelouch's expression turned into a stormy one. "He's keeping quiet still."
Schneizel gave him an easy smile, appearing the epitome of calm while receiving the news. "Don't worry about it too much. The Pendragon Resort will break him." He sounded very confident about it, with good reason to. The Resort was the nickname for the OSI's interrogation center after all. Britannia might have several intelligence agencies, but the OSI was second to none. "In other news, I received word from Father today."
"Oh?" Lelouch's brow arced at that. "Pray tell, what did dearest Father say?"
"He was most concerned with your accommodations."
"I'm not picky."
Schneizel gave him a serious look. "He insists you stay at the Aries Villa."
Lelouch froze solid at those words.
His mother's battered body lay on the marble floor, his sister bathing in a pool of blood as she lay on the cold ground with cold eyes staring blankly into the distance.
"Protect the Prince!"
"Your mother is dead, Your Highness."
"Brother! Brother! Why is the room so dark?"
"Only the strong survive in the Empire."
His fist was clenched tightly - nearly breaking the knight piece in it – his eyes narrowing as he remembered those words.
"Are you alright?" Schneizel asked, concern coloring his tone.
"I'm fine." Lelouch managed to say through gritted teeth. He took a deep breath, shaking violently, as he controlled his emotions. Then he smiled his dead smile, naked fury still evident behind his eyes, though only to one who looked closely enough. "I'll be fine." He assured his brother once more.
Beneath those words was a promise. One that would see the Empire burn for its sins.
"Aries Villa…I haven't been there in years." Lelouch said, sounding almost wistful. "I wonder if time has treated it favorably." And just as suddenly, the balance of their game shifted.
It was funny how the pawn, oft seen as the weakest, most expendable piece, had the capability to do so much damage. That was all it took. One move that began the plan to shatter the white dominance. Pawn takes pawn. White recaptures. Knight takes pawn.
"Clever." The white bishop was forced back by the new position of Lelouch's knight.
Lelouch grinned toothily, leaning back into his chair. "Thanks." Another move by another pawn, and the white knight was forced back from its forward position. Ngf3. Nxf3, check. In the span of five moves, the white side had gone from winning to losing.
Fate was a fickle thing.
"Draw?" Lelouch offered.
Schneizel considered the offer. He was down a pawn, but had better developed pieces. However, the center was no longer in his control and after the black king castles, he would be hard pressed to gain a decisive advantage.
The Prime Minister nodded. "Draw." He agreed. "What's the score now?"
"51 for you. 46 draws." Lelouch announced triumphantly, sounding proud of getting a draw.
It was a personal victory, to be honest.
Schneizel had always been the superior player and Lelouch had yet to win a single game. The seventeen year old had realized this after being pummeled for the 42nd time in a row. It called for a reevaluation of strategy. His objective had shifted from playing to win to crippling his brother to a point where the draw would be accepted.
"You should play to win next time." His brother said.
Lelouch looked at him skeptically. "And risk losing?"
"All wars are won by taking risks. The assumption of it is a necessity for advancement." Schneizel defended philosophically. "Audentes Fortuna Juvat."
"Fortune favors the bold," translated Lelouch based on what little Latin he understood, "but the better part of valor is discretion."
"Touché." Schneizel conceded. A knock on the door alerted them that Lelouch's car had arrived to whisk him away.
The two stood to shake hands, as was the custom after a round of chess, and Lelouch took a moment to adjust his uniform. This was not to be mistaken as his military fatigues or an officer's uniform. Rather, this splendid white uniform was one worn by members of the royal family and was, by definition, ridiculously ornate.
Crossing the room to get to the door with almost feminine grace, Lelouch turned to face his brother. "I'll see you in a few days." He told him in farewell. "If the assassins don't get to me, that is." He added as an afterthought, a macabre laugh escaping his lips. It was no secret that he had his own fair share of enemies in the capital simply because his mother was a commoner. As if that wasn't bad enough, she was a commoner with French lineage.
Schneizel sighed, shaking his head at his brother's dark humor. Lelouch's relaxed approach to his own death made it seem like he didn't care too much about his life.
Did the war affect his mind to such an extent? Perhaps a trip to the psychiatrist was in order…
Clearing his minds of such thoughts, he went back to work.
As soon as the electric sliding door closed behind him, Lelouch turned to his subordinates with his no nonsense look, managing to appear quite regal still.
"Your Highness." The three guards reverently greeted him in unison though they did not kneel.
"The Emperor has been kind enough to host us in the Aries Villa for the remainder of our stay." Lelouch informed them sardonically.
Jeremiah's face twisted in pain just as if he had been punched in the gut. It brought up bad memories, no doubt, being the location of his first failure.
"I will be frank with you men. My authority to run a special unit is at an end, seeing as how we have neither the frames nor the conditions for testing here. Officially, your oaths are at an end and I have no right to keep you with me." Lelouch paused, giving each of them a calculating glance.
None of them moved a muscle.
"There is, however, another way for those who wish to stay. I will ordain you as members of my royal guard. Be warned, from this point on there is no turning back. I have many enemies in Britannia, powerful men of noble standing who would see me and all those under my banner to dead in the most ignoble of ways. You will not have a life of prestige or power. In fact, it is entirely likely that you will have quite the opposite." Lelouch informed them candidly. "You stand to lose everything at my side. Your name, your honor, your life; all these are forfeit."
"Aren't you encouraging." muttered Eric under his breath, just before Jeremiah jabbed him with his elbow to keep him quiet.
"Do you know what I see every day?" He asked rhetorically, ignoring the smartass comment. "I see a society that is cruel and flawed at its base. I see a way of life built on slaves and maintained by conquest. I see a system that is bound to implode on itself. I see a nation struggling to keep itself from collapsing. I swear to you here and now that we will change this Empire. We will dig deep and tear out the corruption and hypocrisy from its roots. Are you with me?"
"Must you really ask this from me, sire?" Jeremiah asked, sounding insulted. "I have already pledged myself to you."
"We've been together from the start, Lelouch." Suzaku reminded him. "I think you know that I'm with you."
Lelouch turned his eyes expectantly at Eric. "And you?" They asked without asking.
Eric replied with a "Sure, what the heck" shrug. "Sticking with you ought to at least be interesting. Besides, I'm getting tired of drilling all day."
"Very well," Lelouch said with a genuine smile, quite pleased with the results. "Eric, how soon can you change clothes?"
"Why?" Eric asked suspiciously, an inexplicable sense of dread overtaking him.
Deep within the Forbidden City was the heart and soul of the Chinese Federation.
The Dragon Throne, the literal seat of Chinese Emperors' and Empresses' since time immemorial, was an intricately designed, golden chair with, as the name might suggest, elaborate dragon motifs enveloping the entirety of it. These dragons were not the lumbering, winged devils imagined by Western Civilization, but rather had a more serpentine side to them.
Its craftsmanship, however, was of no concern to the small child currently occupying it. All she could think of was that it was the most uncomfortable piece of furniture she had ever had the misfortune of sitting upon.
The armrests were too high, the seat was too wide and, for the love of God, there were nothing to cushion her butt from the cold, hard seat.
Gold was excellent for showing off one's wealth, but it was a terrible means of comfort beyond the self-induced psychological effect of having something valuable, which, in itself, was determined by society collectively.
For a young girl such as the beloved Empress Tianzi, who had never known poverty and never studied economics, it did absolutely nothing.
Fidgeting, she tried to find a position that would somewhat alleviate the soreness of her ass. Unfortunately for her, no such thing existed. She resigned herself to this fact and this showed in her face, apparently, prompting her guest's curiosity.
"Your Majesty, are you alright?" The man, with raven hair braided into a long ponytail and draped in silk, gold and blue robes.
The child struggled for a moment to find her voice, before speaking. "Y-yes, Xing Ke. I am fine." She replied in a weak voice that betrayed her timidity. "Tell me what's happening in the outside world." The words came out more as a plea than a command, though the man obeyed without hesitation.
"The world is changing rapidly, Empress. To the north, our soldiers are fighting a desperate war in secret as the EU clashes with us at the border. India to our south grows increasingly discontent about the way things are run and the people everywhere clamor for your divine guidance." He reported in the grim way that only a man who has seen war could. "Please, Your Majesty, I beg of you. Act on behalf of your people. The High Eunuchs have made a commendable effort but they do not listen to others."
"I-I cannot, Xing Ke." The child Empress said, lowering her shame-filled eyes. "Even if I wanted to, I would make things worse for everyone. I don't have the wisdom to rule a country as vast as ours. The High Eunuchs though, they are wise in their years."
"Their minds may be sharp, but their hearts are not in the right place." Xing Ke argued from his kneeling stance. "Please try, Empress, for my sake of your father, and his father and his father's father."
"That is quite enough, General." Xing Ke's head turned so quickly it nearly snapped his neck. His hand gripped his sheathed sword and his eyes turned stormy. "You are dismissed." The albino High Eunuch, Gao Hai, said imperiously.
Xing Ke, to his credit, did not move immediately, but glanced at the Empress, silently asking if he should go. A feeble nod told him all he needed to know. He kowtowed to his sovereign, before rudely brushing past the High Eunuch.
"That Xing Ke grows bolder by the day, Empress. If he has the gall to argue with you, perhaps we should make an example of him in case others might get any ideas of insubordination." Gao Hai suggested, strutting his way towards Tianzi.
"NO!" Tianzi yelped, a little too quickly to have been a well thought out response. Her cheeks were a few shades darker than crimson now. "I mean, Xing Ke is a loyal general. I am sure it would never get that far."
"As the Empress says." said Gao Hai half-heartedly, disappointment evident in his posture.
"I can't say I'm not a little surprised." Lelouch said, marching parallel the row of guards that had assembled. Curiously enough, he was back in his military fatigue, while it was Eric Maximillan that donned his princely attire. "It took all of five minutes to break into this place undetected." He informed them in his best "I'm disappointed in you" voice. "I sincerely hope that security is not this sloppy at night, otherwise, we might get a replay of seven years ago on my first night here."
"My apologies, Your Highness. It will not happen again." The head of security said, thoroughly embarrassed though quite thankful he hadn't been executed yet. Princes had been known to have people killed for lesser offenses.
"See to it that it doesn't." Lelouch said. "For I fear the next time someone slips past you, your lives will no longer be in my hands but in my father's."
Not that the Emperor would care if he died, of course, but the men didn't need to know that particular tidbit. Paranoid guards were the best kind, after all.
Aside from the surprise inspection which the guards failed at miserably, moving into Aries Villa was without incident. The palace was well kept, even though none of the royal family had lived there for years. The place was an exact replica of how Lelouch remembered it, minus the blood stains on the main staircase where his mother was gunned down. Even their rooms, untouched for so long, were kept in pristine condition.
Lelouch briefly wondered if it was his father who ordered it, but then decided against it. That man didn't have a bone of sentimentality…or compassion, in general.
In the three days that he had been there, so far, he received an unexpected volume of visitors and well wishers. Noblemen and Ladies vied for his attention using whatever means they could think of. A few went as far as offering their daughters to be part of his "harem," much to the spluttering, red-faced prince's chagrin.
His so called knights found those particular visits highly amusing for some reason.
Lelouch's time to relax was over though, as the Emperor finally summoned him to court. So it was on a hazy December morning that found the Prince standing before the grand, double doors leading into the throne room, immaculately dressed and waiting to be announced by the herald.
"Presenting His Highness, Major Lelouch vi Britannia, Eleventh Prince of the Empire and 15th in line to the Imperial Throne!"
15th in line? Who else higher up in the line of succession had died, aside from Orion? He brushed aside such thoughts to focus.
Taking a moment to psych himself up, Lelouch stepped into the throne room to resounding applause. Like a deer caught in the headlights, he blinked owlishly, astonished by the superficial welcome.
That was new.
Striding through the center of the room without sparing the bystanders a glance, he kneeled, with all the grace he could muster, as soon as he was within an appropriate distance from the Emperor. "You summoned me, Your Majesty." He began, polite but distanced.
"My son," the Emperor's voice boomed, low and loud, "you have done well. When I sent you off a few months back, you were nothing. Now, you return, a hero of the Empire and worthy of your name."
Charles zi Britannia turned his head ever so slightly to address the crowd. "Our Empire is built on the principle that the strong survive. The greatest of our sons we reward and the least we cast out in contempt. Can any here deny that Lelouch vi Britannia's actions in the last few months have been anything but beyond reproach?"
A blind man could see that the question did not ask for a verbal answer. Mere silence was tacit agreement with the Emperor, and the fool who would be so bold as to speak would find himself rather headless rather soon.
The well built monarch rose from his seat, towering over Lelouch's prostate form. Despite his years, he remained quite an imposing figure physically, not a sign of weakness visible to the backstabbing leeches he surrounded himself in.
The faint hiss of steel was heard and a cold weight rested on Lelouch's shoulder. Charles simply had to press down and blood would stain the marble flooring.
"I, Charles zi Britannia, Emperor of the Holy Britannian Empire, the Areas and of all my other realms and territories, Sovereign Head of the Dominion, Defender of the Faith, to all Lord Spiritual and Temporal and all my subjects: Whatsoever to whom these presents shall come greeting, know ye that I do advance and create Lelouch vi Britannia the style, dignity, title and honor of Earl of Montreal."
More applause met his words, drowning out all other sound in the room. In a rare moment of patience, the Emperor waited for the noise to settle on its own. "But my son is not the only one who has proven himself." He informed them, eliciting curious murmurs from the crowd. "One of my daughters has found her way back home, surviving the chaos of Area 11 by sheer force of will. I welcome her back into the Imperial Family."
The heavy doors creaked open and the soft pitter-patter of feet was unmistakable in the silence. A sudden chill overtook the recently advanced Earl as he turned around to look.
Nunnally vi Britannia had returned.
The ballroom situated in the Emperor's Palace was the largest of its kind in the world at 200,000 square feet. Anyone who was anyone in the vast nation of 1.9 billion souls was in attendance for it was the very apex of the Empire's social scene. Entrance was limited to a select few individuals and nobility alone wasn't enough to assure passage.
It was in this ostentatious room that the Empire's fate was decided, for more deals were made, more alliances formed and more crucial information exchanged on its dance floors than any number of sessions in Congress or secret meetings of the nobility. Young bluebloods entering into adulthood debuted under the light of crystal chandeliers and the scrutiny of their peers and elders. It was here that the next generation had their first taste of what it truly meant to be part of Britannia's ruling class.
The imperial ballroom was a political stock market, fraught with risk and danger, but also opportunity for however great the rewards awaited people here, one could also lose everything. The only currency recognized by the brokers was influence which could be invested in all manners of deals, alliances and friendships that could make or break entire families. Through careful cultivation and astute management, the right investment could bring about the greatest reward of them all – the crown from which all power emanated from. Bloodshed, as in the case of Charles zi Britannia, was the exception, not the norm; in the long annals of Britannian history 9 of 10 ascensions to the throne were decided by the schemes of ambitious parents.
It was much to everyone's astonishment, therefore, that the latest investment opportunity was currently missing.
"I'm sorry sir, but I cannot tell you where Prince Lelouch is." An exasperated Suzaku repeated for the umpteenth time that minute. Dissuading persistent nobles was proving to be a fairly tiring activity, and he wasn't sure if he preferred risking life and limb on the battlefield to this.
"Oh that's a shame. However will I seduce him now?" The man said dryly, placing the back of his hand on his forehead exaggeratedly. "Well, tell him to give me a call then." The noble said, shoving a name card forcibly into Suzaku's palm. "The name's Earl Lloyd Asplund, but you can call me Lloyd. I work for ASEEC."
"ASEEC? You mean the military's R&D division for knightmares?" Suzaku asked tentatively.
"Yup!" Lloyd answered, grinning happily. "I'm one of their project heads – Camelot group to be specific. We've currently finished a 7th gen prototype frame and we need someone to pilot it."
"I'll pass on your message sir. I'm sure the Prince will be happy to test out the frame for you."
Lloyd shook his head furiously. "No, no, no! I don't want the Prince to test it out. I want you to do it."
"Me?" Suzaku pointed to himself, not quite believing the man. "Why would you want me of all people?"
"You have a habit of getting into spectacularly fucked up situations." Lloyd answered cheerily. "That's exactly the kind of scenario the Lancelot thrives in."
"You seem displeased." Charles noted, a trace of humor creeping into his words. "Have I not given you the world by returning to you that which you value above all else?"
"Your Majesty is most generous." Lelouch forced his mouth to say.
"And you are most foolish," the monarch chastised, "to think that you could hide anything from me. Did you honestly believe that I would not have men keeping tabs on all those who carry my blood?"
Lelouch hesitated to answer, aware that he was treading on thawing ice. "I would never presume such of you, Your Majesty."
Charles snorted disdainfully, showing how truthful he thought his son was being. "Let's get to the crux of the matter then. All those months ago, why did you say your sister was dead?"
"I honestly thought that she was. I had not see her-"
"DO NOT LIE TO ME!" Charles' voice, like thunder, echoed in the room, momentarily stunning Lelouch from the unprecedented display of emotion. "I've known the two of you were alive for years, hiding together in that quaint little academy of the Ashfords'. I've had men watching you ever since you left for Area 11."
A flicker of surprise crossed the son's eyes, but his mask of faux subservience remained firmly in place.
"Did you honestly believe that I wouldn't know my own children were plotting to overthrow me?" He growled. "Victory has made you arrogant, Lelouch."
For the first time in quite a while, Lelouch felt genuinely scared. "Nunnally had nothing to do with it." He said feebly. "It was all me."
"Like I care." The Emperor scoffed. "If you weren't so damn useful, I'd have you executed."
"What do you want from me?" Lelouch asked helplessly, terrified for his sister's life.
"There are certain things that I must do before I die. Tasks I can accomplish only by being Emperor." Charles informed his son. "After my goal is completed, you are free to go ahead and try taking the throne from me. I could care less. In fact, I'd encourage it. It shows you have some ambition in life after all. But until that day has arrived, you will cease your scheming. Consider your sister as insurance."
"You'd use your own daughter as collateral?" He spat out. "Bastard!"
The Emperor didn't seem fazed by his choice of words. "I don't really mind if you think I'm the Devil himself. Just do as you're told, boy."
"In the end, Rommel's decision to withdraw from Tunis was not because the position had become untenable (for contrary to popular belief, the 1st Division was still quite capable of resisting Bamide frames by making use of artillery support), but rather due to Rommel's reluctance to engage in a battle of attrition – which has become a common trait for veterans of the Battle of Stalingrad. Therefore, his defeat in the Battle of Tunis was not due to a lack of strategic ability, but because Lelouch vi Britannia understood the psychology of Rommel and recreated a situation where his adversity to such style of combat would force him to disengage; specifically, a situation which could not be won quickly (see Blitzkrieg and Maneuver Warfare)."
-excerpt from: The Battle of Tunis, an analysis by Sebastian White
"The title of Grand Duke is the highest noble peerage one could be granted. Like Dukedoms, Grand Dukedoms were awarded only at the discretion of the Emperor, in contrast to the lower ranks of nobility which could be granted by any member of nobility two ranks higher with the blessing of the Emperor (see: the Rule of Two Steps). Grand Dukedoms differ from other ranks of nobility, however, in the sense that they were not inheritable. The reason for this peculiar caveat is that Grand Dukedoms are granted enough power and land to be a nation all on its own. In the hands of the untrustworthy or incompetent, all sorts of problems could arise that have Empire-wide ramifications.
The Grand Dukedoms were originally created right after the Noble Commission. There are, in total, 13 Grand Dukedoms in honor of the first 13 Holy Britannian colonies based on the East Coast of America. The first of these is automatically awarded to the reigning Emperor, with the fief being Pendragon itself. This leaves 12 other Grand Dukedoms which the Emperor might award to his most faithful subjects. While these 13 were originally occupying the first 13 colonies, throughout the years, the lands attached to the titles have been reassigned to be more spread out across the Empire, with only Pendragon having never been changed (although its boundaries have been expanded on numerous occasions)."
-excerpt from: Encyclopedia Britannia Online: Grand Dukes
AN: Dun dun dun! And with this we end arc 2. What did you guys think?