One and only Son

by Juubi-K

Written for Zaru. Bismarck Waldstein regrets only one thing; that he has no son. When he claims an orphan boy for his own, the course of history takes an unexpected turn.

24. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

Government Bureau, Area 11, July 2017 ATB

"Ah, Alexander." Cornelia looked up from a dossier in her hand as Alexander saluted. "I trust all preparations are complete?"

"Yes, your highness. We are ready to move out at your command."

Alexander kept his eyes fixed on Cornelia, despite the fact that Euphemia was standing next to her. She might be an old friend, but protocol was protocol.

"Excellent. Your little break last week seems to have do you the power of good."

There was a twinkle in her eyes, and Euphemia's smile widened just a little. Alexander felt a twinge of dread. She hadn't said a word about the incident at Ashford Academy since it happened, and he had dared to hope that she never would.

"Yes, your highness."

"In any case." Cornelia laid down the dossier. "I was going to hold the formal briefing for the next operation yesterday, but something came up. My brother Schneizel, the Chancellor, begs my indulgence but he cannot return the Glaston Knights to me."

Alexander's discomfort turned to mild disappointment. He hadn't seen the Glaston Knights, the five adoptive sons of Andreas Darlton, for quite some time. With Cornelia planning a major operation, he had hoped to have them present. But it was not to be.

"By way of compensation, he has rustled up a veteran company for me to borrow," Cornelia went on. "You remember Graham Aker, don't you?"

Alexander blinked in surprise. The name rang a bell...

"Was he the Graham Aker who was at the military academy, your highness?"

"Yes, that one." Cornelia's eyes twinkled in fond recollection. "He's done well for himself on the Syrian front, so much so that they made him a Captain. He's due to arrive in a few hours, and I'd like you to greet him and see to it that he gets what he needs. Can you manage this?"

"By all means, your highness."

That would take some doing, getting a Captain, his headquarters unit, and a whole company settled. In theory a company HQ should have been the CO and two knightmares, but some officers had as many as five or six. As for the rest, that was three platoons of six, making for eighteen knightmares and their pilots. The bureau tower had more than sufficient space and supplies for them, but they would need to be incorporated into the operation as well.

Whatever that was.

"Good. The relevant information should be on the network. In the meantime, it's your turn to learn about the operation."

She tapped a control on her desk and stood up. As she did so, the office wall slid apart, revealing a tall, wide vidscreen, which came online as she approached.

"The venue of our operation is the Narita National Park, located in Gunma Prefecture."

The screen showed a mountain range, with a handful of small settlements located along the main roads and railway lines. There were a number of icons spread over the south side of the mountain.

"We don't have much of a presence there, as you can see," Cornelia went on. "The NAC is largely responsible for administrating the region, and their previous policy has been to treat it with kid gloves, on account of some of the mountains having some kind of religious significance. My predecessors tended to follow their advice on such matters, and in any case the region's economic and strategic value is limited."

"So the rebels have established themselves there, your highness?"

"Indeed they have. We have a location on a major underground facility, here." Cornelia pointed to one of the larger mountains, located not far from one of the small settlements. "Ordinarily I'd send in the bombers, religious sensitivities be damned, but there is such a thing as public relations. Besides, I'd like to take the facility intact. There could be useful information in there, not to mention prisoners."

Alexander could not stop himself from glancing at Euphemia. There was a look of pain in her eyes as she heard her sister's words.

"In any case, the overall plan is to surround the mountain, and then advance from multiple angles," Cornelia went on. "You will accompany General Darlton on the left, here. I will lead from the centre. We will destroy anything that opposes us, and then enter the tunnels by any entrances we can use. These icons mark potential entrances identified thus far. Our cordon will kill or capture anyone who tries to escape. Euphemia will command the rear echelon."

She turned towards him, stepping away from the screen.

"I would have liked more time to prepare, and to examine the mountain, but time is against us. We have to assume that the rebels know, or have assumed, that we are watching their base. If we wait too long, they will evacuate and leave us with nothing."

Alexander nodded in understanding, trying to contain his excitement. A battle was coming, and he would be fighting under Darlton's leadership. Another chance to prove himself, and for Rai to prove himself too. Perhaps he might be granted more subordinates.

More importantly, victory over the Area 11 rebels would draw closer; as would his princess' desire. The sooner the rebels were defeated, the sooner she could return to the battlefield, and leave the running of Area 11 in the hands of someone else.

Perhaps it would be Euphemia. Was that why she was coming? To witness a military operation for herself?

"If you have no questions, then Euphemia has a matter to discuss."

Euphemia stepped forward, switching places with Cornelia. The map vanished, replaced by an ID photograph of a young girl; with black hair tied into pigtails, glasses, and a nervous look about her.

"Alexander, is this the girl you mentioned?" Euphemia asked.

"Yes, your highness," he replied, remembering. "I encountered her at Ashford Academy. Her name is Nina Einstein. I believe she was involved in the Lake Kawaguchi incident."

"I thought so." Euphemia's smile widened.

"This is the girl who caused Euphie to risk her life so pointlessly," Cornelia said, a sour edge to her tone. "And the one whom you saw fit to name to a princess."

"Sister, Alexander was only trying to be kind," Euphemia cut in, her smile faltering.

Alexander's heart sank. He remembered Nina Einstein, of course. A mousy-looking, shy girl who served as webmaster to Ashford Academy's student council. He had met her after the...incident the previous week, and she had been there when the council, by way of an apology, entertained him the next day. Ever since Milly Ashford mentioned that he knew Princess Euphemia, Nina had hung on his every word, while Milly - clearly seeing her friend's yearning - pestered him for stories about Euphemia.

"Your highness," he said, mastering himself. "Miss Einstein was deeply unsettled by the mistreatment she endured during the incident. She holds Princess Euphemia in the highest esteem for her intervention."

"And well she should," replied Cornelia curtly. "But I fail to see why you should feel the need to mention it. Euphie has devotees enough without piling on another."

"It was Miss Ashford who asked it of me, your highness," Alexander went on, wondering just how bad a faux-pas he had made. "She asked that, since she dared not do so herself, I might convey Miss Einstein's profound gratitude to Princess Euphemia, and her everlasting loyalty and devotion to his Imperial Majesty, and the Imperial family."

Even then, it sounded pompous, even ridiculous. But he could not think of anything else to say.

"How they exaggerate, these commoners," mused Cornelia. "But what of this Ashford girl. Wasn't she one of your childhood sweethearts?"

Alexander could not stop himself from blushing, and blushing even worse when Euphemia let out a giggle. Milly Ashford had indeed been on the list of potential brides Lady Marianne had assembled for his father's perusal.

"We met at a Founding Day gala, nine years ago," he said, trying very hard not to sound as embarrassed as he felt.

"Ah yes." Cornelia's eyes twinkled as she remembered. "You were chaperoning Euphie, as I recall. She mentioned unloading you on Reuben Ashford's granddaughter for the first dance. Lady Marianne was positively gushing about it."

Alexander remembered, only too well. It had made him the object of a fair bit of gossip, at least in Euphemia's circle.

"Well then, can you handle it by yourself, Euphie?" Cornelia asked, turning back to her sister.

"Of course." Euphemia beamed. "She's been producing some very impressive articles on nuclear physics. I thought maybe an incentive award."

"And what would you know about nuclear physics?" asked Cornelia waspishly.

"Me? Nothing. But I passed one of them on to the mother of one of my old classmates. She's a nuclear physicist at Colchester, and she said that It's university quality."

"Very well then. But there is one other thing."

Euphemia brightened, and the image on the screen changed again. This time it showed himself, walking arm in arm with a very happy-looking Shirley Fenette.

"Alexander..." Cornelia's smile shifted into a rather unsettling smirk. "Who is this?"

Alexander's blood ran cold. Euphemia broke into a fit of giggles. How was he to explain this? What must she be thinking?

"Your highness...she is Miss Shirley Fenette, a member of the Student Council. She showed me the academy grounds."

"So you walked arm in arm," said Cornelia, a strange look in her eyes. "Arm in arm, through a magical garden, with a gentle breeze blowing, and music playing."

"Your highness!" Alexander felt his face heat up. "It wasn't like that!"

"Oh sister, do calm down!" insisted Euphemia, between giggles. "It was bound to happen sooner or later!"

It took Alexander a moment to realise what she had just said.

"But your highness, I...it wasn't like that! She was kind to me! Nothing more!"

"Oh really?" Cornelia's countenance had darkened somewhat. "You spend a pleasant afternoon strolling about with Shirley Fenette, the daughter of Joseph Fenette, a member of my brother Schneizel's Code R research team, and you tell me there was nothing more?"

Alexander began to understand. He knew about the Code R team, of course. They were working on some secret project, which even Cornelia did not know about. From what he had heard, the mysterious theft that had led to the death of Prince Clovis had been of something belonging to them, and that said item had not been recovered. Beyond that, he knew nothing either.

"Your highness, she mentioned that her father was a military scientist, but she said nothing more than that. I did not have reason to ask."

Cornelia gave him a very long, hard look.

"I don't want to be harsh with you, Alexander," she said, softening somewhat. "But you must understand how this looks. People will look at this and make assumptions. If certain people at court or within the Imperial family see this, they will assume that you are my spy, trying to get information via this girl. If the gutter press sees this, they will insist that the two of you are lovers."

Alexander's blood ran cold. Lovers? How could anyone think such a thing? What did they base it on? That he had walked with her, arm in arm? That he had spent the night?

He realised, in that horrible moment, that he didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to deal with any of this. He had been the object of gossip before, but he had never paid any attention to it. There was never any need to. He had be so focussed on his goal, for so many years, that he had cared little about what anyone else thought or said. On the rare occasions that things went beyond words, a skilfully-applied fist or foot usually settled the matter.

But this wasn't about him, not really. People could gossip all they wanted about him, and he would not much care. But what about Shirley? What about her reputation? What would they think, with him spending the night and then walking arm-in-arm with her? She, who had been taken hostage at Lake Kawaguchi, and whose father had so passionately denounced the terrorists to the news cameras?

He felt sick. He knew what they would think. It was all so obvious, yet he hadn't paid it a moment's thought? What had he done? What had he done to her?

"I trust you understand the severity of the situation," Cornelia went on. "As it happens, the parasites seem to have missed this particular one. But be more careful next time, Alexander."

"Yes, your highness."

"Good. You two run along now. I have things to attend to, and I'm expecting Captain Aker in a few hours."

Alexander forced himself to salute, then hold the door for Euphemia as they stepped out into the silence of the corridor.

"You mustn't let her worry you," Euphemia said, after a few moments. "Things like this happen all the time."

"I...I have been foolish, your highness." He wanted to be comforted by her words, but the horror of it hung over him like a cloud. "I never intended any harm."

"I know you didn't," insisted Euphemia. "And no harm has been done."

"But, her reputation..."

Then he trailed off, when he saw the look on her face.

"Oh Alexander..." She was smiling, and in spite of everything, his shame began to ease. "And I thought you'd become so cold."

"Your highness?"

"Worrying about a girl's reputation like that." She giggled. "She's so lucky."

Only then did he realise what she was getting at.

"Your highness!" His face heated up again. "There's nothing going on! Miss Fenette was kind to me, nothing more!"

Then he saw that she was giggling, and he felt a fool.

They had reached a viewing gallery, which offered a fine view of the settlement. Euphemia stepped up to the gallery, gazing out over the city.

"Cornelia just worries about you, that's all," she said, her eyes on the view. "I worried about you too, for a while. I was afraid you'd become cold, that the kind Alexander I remember was gone."

Her tone had changed somehow. Alexander's heart ached at it. She sounded...lonely somehow.

"But you didn't." She turned to face him, smiling that bright smile that had always made his heart leap. "Only a kind person like you would get caught up in something like that. And she liked being with you because you're a kind person."

Alexander felt his cheeks heat up again, but not with embarrassment. It was an old warmth, a warmth he remembered from before, when they were younger.

"That's why I know that someday, there'll be someone," she went on. "It might be hard on Cornelia, but it's only because she worries about you. But I want to meet that person, one day. I really want to get along with that person."

She had grown so much, he realised in that moment. Not just in body, but in spirit too. For so long he had feared to presume too much, remembering what the Emperor had told him all those years ago. But he didn't need to. There was nothing to fear, not from her.

"Even if it's a boy in a dress, I don't mind!" Euphemia declared brightly. "I can help with that!"

"Your highness!" spluttered Alexander, his heart jumping into his mouth. "It's...it's not like that! It was a mistake!"

Euphemia laughed.

And as embarrassed as he was, Alexander could not hate the sound of it.

(X)

Graham Aker grinned.

It had been a long flight from the homeland, and his back was aching from having slept in his seat. But it was a pain he had endured countless times before, and he knew better than to let it show.

Besides, there was too much good stuff waiting for him to let mere back pain get in the way.

The Albatross transport was already off the runway, and was taxiing into position to unload. There were three more circling above, waiting for their turn to land. Three transports, each carrying six knightmares and their devicers, minus their commanding officers. Said officers, Lieutenants Daryl Dodge, Howard Mason, and Joshua Edwards, were accompanying him in his own transport, along with Ensigns Andrei Smirnov and Soma Peries, his youngest officers, who had not yet earned places in his platoons. That made twenty-one knightmares and devicers, making up D Company, 7th Regiment, Royal Aerial Infantry.

D Company. His company.

He leaned down to look out of the window. The bureau tower loomed overhead, an oblong extension wide enough to fit two transports reaching out from its base to greet him. Airport vehicles raced in and out, preparing for the arrival of his company, plus the countless other aircraft that took off or landed there every day. He noted, with approval, that a mobile stairway was already waiting for them, along with a small welcoming committee.

He fixed his eyes on them, wondering who they could be. It couldn't be the princess herself; he was good, but not that good. But his curiosity was piqued when he saw a flash of red amid the blue. He looked more closely, and saw the long maroon coat, in that early 18th century style; the Marlborough look some called it. It was regarded as somewhat archaic among knights, but Princess Cornelia was known to favour it.

So, one of her own entourage. But who could it be?

Then, as the plane drew to a final halt, he saw. That mop of curly black hair, the bronze skin, that look of permanent seriousness. Of all of Cornelia's knights, there was only one person it could be.

"Listen up, D Company," he called out, straightening up as he turned to face his officers. "Our welcoming committee is here, and you'll never guess who her Imperial Highness has sent."

"It's your girlfriend!" Joshua retorted, with a smirk. Graham paused, forcing himself not to smile too much at the mention. Instead he simply paused, waiting for someone to figure it out.

"It's not Princess Euphemia, is it?" asked Daryl, half-laughing, half-scared.

"Like she'd come out for you!" sneered Howard.

"Well, I can dream, can't I?"

Graham looked towards his younger officers. Both had kept quiet, taking no part in the camaraderie. But they had not been with him long, and had not quite earned their place. Andrei stared back at him, a touch of nervousness in his countenance. Soma, by contrast, was utterly emotionless. He had never met anyone quite so naturally professional, so utterly calm and collected.

"Oh no way!" It was Howard. "It's the kid?"

That got their attention. Andrei looked surprised, and even Soma seemed to perk up a little.

"It certainly is!" Graham declared, trying not to laugh. "Lieutenant Sir Alexander Waldstein awaits us with trepidation!"

His three lieutenants barked with laughter. Andrei just looked awkward, while Soma was looking out of the window, seeing for herself.

"How the hell did he make lieutenant?" asked Daryl, only half-rhetorically. "How old is he, twenty?"

"Nineteen years, three months," Soma spoke up, cool as ever. "Born April 7th, 1998."

There was an awkward pause.

"How did you know that?" asked Andrei, amazed.

"I read things, Ensign Smirnov," she replied, deadpan.

"Anyway, gentlemen and lady, this is her Imperial Highness' knight," Graham cut in, as the mobile stairway clunked into place outside. "So, no eating, no glomping, no personal questions, no picking fights. This kid is kind-of an old friend, and the Princess is rather fond of him, so just behave, okay."

"Sir," replied Howard, in acknowledging him. It wasn't always easy, having old academy buddies for subordinates. But everybody seemed to know where they stood, and they had worked well together for years. He knew all three of his lieutenants aspired to his rank and higher, and he was sure they would manage it. But for now, they were his subordinates, and they followed his lead.

He glanced at the ensigns. Soma seemed to take the whole business with equanimity, as she always did. Even during particularly bad days in the Turkish mountains, he had never seen her lose her cool. Andrei, on the other hand, still looked like he felt out of place. He wasn't used to the easy manner Graham had managed to create in his company; the loose, direct air of combat veterans who had seen too much to care about proprieties. That, sooner or later, would have to change.

Graham led the way towards the side hatch, which had helpfully clunked open. The wind was warm on his face as he descended the stairs, and the landing pad hard under his booted feet. It wasn't actually solid ground – being a steel and composite layer two hundred meters above ground level – but after twelve hours on a plane he wasn't inclined to be picky.

"Captain Aker, sir." Alexander Waldstein – dear god, was that really him? – saluted in the knightly fashion; with his right hand across his chest. "Welcome to Area Eleven. I am…"

"Lieutenant Sir Alexander Waldstein," Graham cut him off, returning the salute. "I thought you'd be taller."

It wasn't entirely a joke. Alexander's father was a six-foot monstrosity of a man, and built like a proverbial brick latrine. Alexander was lean and strong-looking, but he was comparatively short and slim; not effeminate by any means, despite a finely-formed face, but compact all the same. His mother must have been a delicate little thing, to have born a son like him to a father like his.

"I am what I am, sir."

"As are we all, lieutenant." Graham offered his hand. Alexander paused a moment, then took it, clasping his wrist in the knightly manner.

"Anyway, my company and I have been flying for twelve hours out of Fort Neils," he went on. "And there's three more planeloads coming, with eighteen more machines and fifteen more devicers. We'd like to get settled good and quick, and we'd appreciate a hand."

"Yes sir." The boy's manner was calm and professional, a little too much like Soma for his liking, but there was nothing to be done for it. "Her Imperial Highness has been expecting you, and at her command I have made the necessary preparations. These officers," he gestured at a pair of blue-uniformed subalterns behind him, "are ready to provide all assistance."

"I am very glad to hear that, lieutenant," replied Graham fulsomely. This would be a sight to see. He had no reason to doubt that young Waldstein could have made the necessary preparations, but he doubted the boy had done so for people like his devicers.

"Her Imperial Highness hopes that you will attend upon her at your earliest convenience," Waldstein went on. If he knew what Graham was thinking, he made no show of it.

"Translation, right this instant," Graham said. "Can I trust you gentlemen and lady to manage this while I'm gone?"

"We've got this, Captain," replied Daryl. A quick look around the small group confirmed that the others felt the same way.

"In which case, lead on," Graham said to Waldstein, who nodded and led the way into the block. They walked in silence for a time, amid the toing-and-froing of vehicles, technicians, and any number of others, until they reached the personnel monorail leading into the bureau tower. Waldstein led the way into an empty car, and with a touch of a button sent it clunking on its way.

"You've grown since I saw you last, lieutenant," Graham spoke up. Hopefully, alone like this, the boy might relax a bit.

"Thank you sir." He did seem to relax, but not by much. "I have endeavoured to grow stronger."

"And you have."

Graham paused, and decided to leave it at that. It wasn't fair to think of Waldstein as a child anymore; even if he had been one when last they met. But there was something he had to ask, something he needed to know.

"I don't mean to gossip, lieutenant, but there's something I need to know."

"By all means, sir."

Graham paused, choosing his words.

"I understand that Jeremiah Gottwald and his unit got themselves into some trouble," he said. "I've heard some things, but I don't know what to make of them. I knew Lord Gottwald, and I don't want to judge him on the basis of scuttlebutt. You've been closer to these events, lieutenant. I'd like to hear your take on it."

The boy did not answer straight away, and Graham began to fear he would not. He didn't want to have to press the matter, but he needed to know.

"Following the death of his late highness Prince Clovis, Lord Gottwald took control of the Area," Waldstein replied, his tone calm. "He arrested General Bartley and several other officers, including the senior IMP officers, on questionable pretexts. He also attempted to frame an Honourary Britannian soldier for the assassination, and had the suspect paraded through the city to his trial. During this display, he was confronted by a character calling himself Zero, whom he then allowed to take the suspect away. The suspect turned up for his trial regardless, and the charges were dismissed for lack of evidence. Lord Gottwald was himself arrested on Princess Cornelia's orders, shortly after her arrival. He was found guilty of gross misconduct, and demoted two ranks. He is currently serving as a platoon leader."

"I see."

Graham fell silent, trying to process it all. What he had heard was pretty much the official line, and he had no reason to doubt it coming from Waldstein. But he hadn't heard what he needed to know. He knew that what he was about to do was not entirely appropriate, or fair, but he needed to know.

"I confess I have a personal reason for asking about this, lieutenant," he went on. "I hear that one of his subordinates is a Lieutenant Villetta Nu. In truth, I was wondering what had become of her amid all this."

He saw a flash of recognition in the younger man's eyes, and felt better for it. He had not seen Villetta Nu for several years, but even if it had been a thousand years he could not have forgotten her. Their…friendship had been only brief, but he cherished it all the same. He had hoped to see her again, that their bond might have survived their experiences, and their differing loyalties.

But she was a Purist, and one of Jeremiah Gottwald's subordinates. He knew of no formal proceedings against her, but Gottwald's disgrace was ultimately her disgrace.

"Shortly after Lord Gottwald was released, his subordinates tried to murder him," the youth said. "She intervened and saved his life, before Princess Euphemia intervened to halt the altercation."

Graham felt himself deflate, mostly with relief. She hadn't changed, not ever after all those years. The Villetta he had known would never abandon a comrade, not like that anyway.

"I am very glad to hear you say that, lieutenant," he said, smiling. "You may not remember, but Lieutenant Nu was an old friend back at the academy. I don't want to see her get hurt."

"I remember, sir." Something shifted in his countenance, a softening perhaps. "Your…friendship was the cause of much gossip among the cadets."

"The commoner and the Purist," Graham mused, chuckling. "I'll bet it did."

Silence. An awkward, uncertain silence, that did not seem to know what it was.

"I have never known Lieutenant Nu to be anything other than an honourable officer," Waldstein went on. "Princess Cornelia saw no reason to take action against her, or her fellows."

"Because she did not need to, lieutenant," Graham retorted. "You're trying to be kind, but I have no illusions. That she still has her commission was a mercy on her Imperial Highness' part. Her career, for the moment, is wrecked."

He had known it from the moment he had heard about the goings-on in Area 11, about Gottwald's little takeover, and how he'd had a ranking general packed off home in chains and locked up a bunch of senior officers, including IMP officers. But to have to say it out loud still cut at his soul.

"If you wish to plead on her behalf, sir," Waldstein cut in, "then I will gladly add my voice."

Graham looked at him in surprise. He had not expected that, not from a high-born officer who would likely outrank him before he was twenty-one.

"I cannot ask that of you, lieutenant," he replied, feeling like he had crossed a line. "You should not presume too much of her Imperial Highness' favour, and not for my sake."

"Honour demands it, sir." There was a determination in Waldstein's eyes that had not been there before. "Once, long ago, you saved me from a grim fate, twice over. I have not forgotten it sir, nor will I ever do so. To be of help to you, even in this, is the least repayment I can offer."

Graham was taken aback. He remembered that? After all those years? The very night he had so very nearly ruined himself for the sake of a fellow cadet and her servant?

The very night when he had finally found something better within himself; and Villetta had seen it.

"You nobles and your honour," he said with a sigh, unable to say what a part of him longed to say. "But…hold on to it, lieutenant. I might just need it one day."

And he might, at that. But not for this.

No. He would save Villetta all by himself. Not because she needed saving, but because he could not do otherwise.

Because if he didn't, he would not be Graham Aker.

(X)

Ashford Academy

"Princess Euphemia…"

Nina Einstein lay on the chaise longue, staring at the ceiling, clutching at a letter; a letter written on that fancy heavy paper normally used for official messages.

Shirley Fenette was both worried and amazed. She had known Nina for years, and knew that she was a bit unstable. But she had never seen her quite like this. Certainly she had never seen her faint, at least not over a letter.

"So, what was that about?" she asked, glancing to Milly Ashford. Milly looked down at Nina with a curious blend of benevolence and amusement. She was clearly used to this sort of thing, and Shirley knew that Milly had known Nina longer than she herself had. She also knew that Nina had problems, but didn't know exactly what they were, except that they involved the natives.

And she didn't feel right asking about it. Some things you just didn't ask about.

"When you dream the impossible dream, you don't expect it to actually come true," replied Milly airily. "It seems our young Lord Waldstein came through for us."

"Really?" Shirley was surprised, and intrigued.

"Nina's getting an Incentive Award," Milly went on, eyes twinkling. "From Princess Euphemia herself."

"Oh wow!" Shirley's heart leapt. "You mean…"

"Well, her childhood friend was our guest a fortnight ago." Milly smiled that smile. "I think we can safely say we're forgiven."

"Oh wow!"

It was unbelievable, unimaginable. Ashford Academy wasn't exactly a low-grade school, but an incentive award from an actual princess? Shirley could hardly bring herself to believe it.

And Milly was right. It must have been Sir Alexander who arranged it. He must have mentioned it to the princess.

"Ah, there's that pretty smile again," said Milly. "I was starting to think I would never see it again."

It took Shirley a moment to realise that Milly was talking about her.

"Oh…i…sorry, what are we talking about?" she asked, bewildered.

"Your pretty smile," Milly went on, beaming. "It's much better than you frowning all the time and acting all distracted."

"Oh, did I?" Shirley was taken aback. Had she really been frowning all the time?

"It's because of Lelouch, isn't it?" That smile again. "You're lonely because he keeps disappearing like that."

Shirley's heart sank. Lelouch had been around less and less over the past month or so. He had a habit of disappearing at strange times, usually to go gambling on chess matches to supplement whatever income he was getting. But ever since Prince Clovis had died, he was disappearing more and more, and for longer stretches.

"Well, it's not just that," she said, awkwardly. She wasn't quite sure how to express it.

"Ah, the rumours," Milly mused. "Has Lelouch found his true self? Has he taken to moonlighting as a drag queen?"

"What?" Shirley exclaimed, unable to stop herself.

"No, you're right, it's ridiculous," Milly went on. "He's too much a traditionalist for drag. He'd make a great fairy though."

"Madame President, no!" insisted Shirley, her face reddening with embarrassment. "Lulu would never do something like that!"

Then she saw the familiar twinkle in her friend's eyes, and sighed. This always happened. Milly seemed to have the knack for winding people up, without anyone realising she was doing it until it was too late.

"Unfortunately, you're probably right," Milly mused, strolling over to the window. "His personality is all wrong for that. Ah, but it would be fun though."

Shirley sighed again. She had been well and truly played, as always. But for all that, she couldn't bring herself to feel angry. She rarely could, not for any length of time.

"Besides, I'm thinking there's another reason," Milly went on, turning her head to look at her. "Funny how Kallen keeps having bad patches and clinic appointments every time he disappears."

"Yeah, funny."

Except it wasn't. There was no escaping what was going on. She had hung back too long, and now Kallen was pulling ahead.

"Ah, poor innocent Shirley." Milly turned back to the window. "Waiting patiently for so long, and then a red-haired beauty waltzes in and captures his heart. It's the stuff of tragedy."

"Laugh it up, why don't you?" Shirley grumbled in the privacy of her mind. It was all right for Milly, who could have any boy or girl she wanted. She didn't have to worry about things like this, about competition. She didn't even seem to want to try!

Shirley's heart ached. She didn't want this. She didn't want to be rivals with Kallen. They got along so well otherwise, so much so that Shirley was starting to think of her as a friend. She could be a little distant a times, but there was no malice in her; none that Shirley could see. She could be waspish at times, though mostly with Lelouch; and she had a soft side too, though mostly reserved for Nunnally.

And…what was it about Lelouch anyway? She was less and less sure as time went on. Could it really just be curiosity? Was she just so determined to figure him out?

"Well then, we'll just have to find you someone else," Milly declared, turning to face her with her hands on her hips. "No way is our beautiful Shirley being left on the shelf!"

"Here we go again," Shirley thought. Madame president being madame president again.

"How about that nice Lord Waldstein?" Milly mused. "We should invite him to lunch again. Properly this time, on Sunday."

"M…m…madame president!" spluttered Shirley. She couldn't believe what she was hearing!

"We might just meet him at the ceremony," Milly went on, regardless. "And we do owe him for helping Nina like that. You could ask him yourself."

"I…I couldn't! I just couldn't!"

Shirley was utterly mortified. Sir Alexander? Was she seriously suggesting that she just walk up to him, on Nina's big day, and just invite him to lunch? Had she utterly lost her mind?

"Oh?" Milly feigned confusion. "And why not?"

"Wh…wh…you…we can't!" Shirley wailed. "He's a noble! It's not proper!"

"And why can't we?" Milly pressed. "You think he'll refuse?"

Shirley opened her mouth to retort, but no words would come. Her mind was in such a whirl that she couldn't think straight.

"But…he's a noble," she whined. "He's Princess Euphemia's childhood friend! He's used to princesses and fine ladies! They'll be all sophisticated and…"

"And you're just Shirley Fenette?"

That was the truth, and it made her feel utterly miserable. She was just Shirley Fenette, the daughter of a military scientist. There might have been a lesser noble or knight or two clanking aroud the family closet, but that was a long time ago; probably killed in the Knightslayer War and their titles and lands given to someone else.

No, she was just Shirley. Shirley with the auburn hair and the green eyes. Shirley who wasn't ugly, but wasn't a raving beauty either. What match was she for someone like Princess Euphemia? How could she stand against rich, high-born, beautiful ladies who never put a foot wrong, or said something stupid? Compared to them she was just…plain.

Plain. Dull. Irritating.

"Just Shirley Fenette, and all those fine ladies," Milly mused. "All those fine ladies, with their guardedconversation, and empty smiles hiding their fangs. Always on the lookout, never relaxing, never trusting, always terrified of looking stupid, and always someone trying to make it happen."

"Huh?" Shirley blinked, wondering what she meant.

"I grew up among people like that, Shirley," Milly went on, her tone slightly sour. "It's not their fault, not really, but they can't escape from it. Even the nice ones like Euphemia have to do it, at least a little, though it wears them down. For people like them, high school never ends."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that Lord Waldstein didn't feel the way you obviously think he did," Milly insisted. "You're honest, you're totally straight, you're a terrible liar, there's no malice or deception in you. You were a breath of fresh air, Shirley. You sat there by his bed because you were honestly worried about him. You were someone he could talk to without worrying about who might be listening, or whether you might start spreading rumours or something. You were a relief Shirley, you must have seen it."

She paused, cocking an eyebrow. Shirley swallowed a lump in her throat, trying to work out what to say, and how to say it.

"I…well…". She thought back, remembering that day. "I thought that a noble like him would be all dashing and confident and such. But…he wasn't, not really."

She paused a moment.

"I…I guess I was maybe a little disappointed," she went on. "But…there was something else. There was something…sincere about him."

Without knowing why, she laid her hands over her heart, as a strange warmth spread through her.

"I felt like, like he cared about me…or not about me personally...but it was like, it mattered to him how I felt. It was like he wanted me to feel better, to feel at ease. But, that can't be true, can it?"

She looked up, and saw Milly wearing a positively vulpine smirk.

"Oh yes!" she declared triumphantly. "It's love, no doubt about it! The common-born maiden and the noble sir knight! The old old story!"

"Madame President!" shrieked Shirley, the mood ruined. "It's not like that!"

"The pure-hearted chevalier!" Milly thrust out her arm in a theatrical pose. "And the gentle-hearted maiden! Champion of virtue! Jewel of youth! Oh, how like a fairy tale! Oh, like a dream!"

"MILLY!"

(X)

Tokyo Settlement

For Lieutenant Villetta Nu, it was the best evening she had had in some time.

The bar her companion had selected was suitably up-market, a place of gleaming malachite tables, high stools, and a floor polished to a mirror sheen. Water ran down decorative waterfalls and channels, running over lamps to make the light swirl and undulate. Well-dressed waiters weaved smoothly between the well-placed tables, delivering elegant cocktails and bottles of fine wine on polished silver trays.

She hadn't allowed herself a night out like this for a good while. Not since she had come to Area 11. There had always been too much to do, too much to keep track of. And while her fellow Purists were her comrades, she didn't much feel like socialising with them. It didn't feel right somehow.

"That long face again," said her companion, lowering his wine glass to regard her. "Something on your mind, my lady?"

Villetta felt a strange twinge, a touch of irritation but also…something else. She hadn't seen Graham Aker for over two years; not since he'd finally made lieutenant and been packed off to the Syrian front. The man sitting before her had matured since then, and mostly in a good way; becoming a little more of the fine officer she knew he had it in him to be. But there was still that sparkle in his eyes, that warmth, that old friendliness. It made an evening spent sharing war stories and old memories all the more pleasant.

Except he was a captain now, and she was still stuck as a lieutenant; even though she'd made that rank two years before he did. She wasn't angry or bitter about it, it was just, well…

"Sorry, Graham," she replied, and felt a little better for calling him by his name. They might be a rank apart, but they were old friends, and old friends could afford to drop the formalities; at least in a place like this. "I've just had a lot to deal with, that's all."

"So I hear," Graham said. "A little angel told me all about it."

"An angel?" Villetta cocked an eyebrow. Graham could be quirky sometimes, but this was unusual even for him.

"An angel who normally sits on Princess Cornelia's shoulder," Graham went on, his smile widening. "An angel who got his wings on our graduation night."

"Oh, him." Villetta sighed. Yes, it would have to be him. Alexander Waldstein. He who must be drooled-over. He who had never had to face hard choices, or watch his career rot for the sake of loyalty.

"He told me what happened with Jeremiah," Graham went on, his tone turning grim. "He doesn't understand it, and I don't either."

Villetta paused. How much did she dare tell him? How much of what she knew, of what she was certain of, could she trust him to understand?

How much longer could she go without telling someone?

"And he tells me that you're still in his unit," Graham concluded. "What's up with that?"

The question made Villetta grit her teeth; for all that she had known it would come.

"I can't just abandon him, Graham," she replied. "I know…I know that they're not the best of people, but they're good soldiers. We fought together in Katanga, and at Lake Van. I can't just walk away from him, any more than you could walk away from one of yours."

That much was true. The Jeremiah Gottwald she had known had been appallingly arrogant and utterly conceited, so convinced of his superiority and worth as a noble and as a soldier, and of the rightness of his Purist beliefs. But he had been a good soldier for all that; brave and selfless in battle, willing to risk his very life for his fellow knights, and for the empire. In all the years she had served with him, he had never so much as fiddled a requisition form, let alone taken a bribe, or done anything to betray the empire's cause.

Graham regard her with sad eyes. She knew that he understood, at least up to a point. But it wasn't much comfort; not there and then, anyway.

"Seriously though, Villetta, this is bad," he insisted. "Busted down three ranks. He'd be better off taking a long walk off a short cliff. He's finished, Villetta. And he's dragging you down too."

"It's fine," she replied, with a confidence she did not feel. "I wasn't charged."

"if it was fine, you'd be leading that platoon," pressed Graham. He looked worried. "You're marked, Villetta. Just knowing him is enough to make them suspect you. You need to get away from there, away from them."

Villetta forced herself not to scowl. A part of her knew he was right. Merely having been Jeremiah's subordinate was a blot on her copybook; a minor one admittedly, but a career-killer if she let it. She knew it, Kewell knew it, and so did the others. It was why they had tried to kill him.

But how much could she tell him?

"You don't understand," she said, sighing. "There's…there's something else behind all this."

"What else could there be?" Graham looked mystified. "He let Zero go in front of half the settlement! The whole world saw it on the net!"

Villetta sighed. She didn't know how to tell him, or if she even should. But there was no other way. No other way to make him understand. And no one else in all the world she could even begin to trust.

"Something happened to him," she said, after a long pause. "I know, because something happened to me too."

Graham fixed his eyes on her. Now she had his attention.

"At Shinjuku ghetto, I found a Britannian student. He asked for my help, and I opened my cockpit. The next thing I know, I'm hanging around the ghetto, and my knightmare is gone."

She let out a breath. It was a load off to say it aloud, but the lunacy of it weighed all the more heavily. She half-expected Graham to scoff, but he didn't. He looked confused, but he didn't say anything.

"My knightmare turned up abandoned in the ghetto, so Jeremiah wrote it up as an accident," she went on. "We thought someone must have knocked me out after I left the cockpit. I would have left it at that, except for something else."

She paused, glancing around to make sure no one was listening.

"Not long after I made it back to base camp, Prince Clovis ordered the operation to stop, and all the Elevens be allowed to leave. He then ordered that the MCV crew and his staff officers evacuate, leaving him alone on the command deck. The assassination took place a few minutes after that."

She paused a moment, letting it sink in. Graham still looked worried, but she could see interest in his eyes too.

"And that wasn't all. After the…incident with Zero, Lord Jeremiah insisted that he had no memory of any of it. There was a gap in his memory, from when Zero said the word orange, up to shortly after Zero had left with Kururugi. After that, he carried on as normal, until Lord Guilford turned up to arrest him. He kept on insisting that he couldn't remember anything. Even though half the settlement had seen him do it, and on camera too."

She trailed off. There was nothing more to say, no more arguments to offer.

"Now that is weird," Graham said.

"You believe me?" Villetta was incredulous.

"That's a matter of definition, my lady." Graham took a long, slow draft of his wine, with every sign of enjoyment. Villetta felt herself tense, growing ever more irritated by his obvious grandstanding.

"If it was anybody else but you, I'd say this was a cock-and-bull story. I'd say you pulled together three coincidental events, and invented some kind of conspiracy to cover for the fact that you got conned out of your own knightmare. Yes, that was weird. And what happened to Prince Clovis was weird. And what Jeremiah did was weirdest of all. But there's no proof here that any of this is connected."

He paused, his eyes twinkling.

"But, my lady, I know otherwise. For as long as I've known you, you've never denied or covered up anything. When you screwed up, you admitted it and took your punishment. If you say that you got out of your knightmare to help a civilian, and then something strange happened, then I believe you. I believe you, because I choose to believe that you're still the Villetta Nu I knew before. That Villetta Nu would not make up a story, nor would she turn her back on her commanding officer when he was in a bind. So yes, Villetta, I believe you."

Villetta blinked. That, she had not expected. She had hoped for it, sure, but never actually expected him to take her side. Not that easily anyway.

How like him to do that. How like the blushing, grinning idiot she had known back at the academy, the one who had nearly ruined himself for the sake of his division-mates, and for a shot at impressing her. How like that naïve boy in a man's body, whose flirtations were so annoying, and yet so…

"Thank you, Graham," she said, with all sincerity. "I never thought…I didn't dare believe…I didn't dare believe that you would."

"I am what I am, my lady. Thine own forever." His grin widened. "We have ourselves a mystery to solve."

Still the overgrown boy. Treating this like it was all some big adventure. But in spite of everything, Villetta couldn't bring herself to be angry with him over it. She felt strangely glad about it, as if it somehow wasn't all that worrying anymore; like it wasn't something to be scared of.

Strange. Passing strange. But for all that, she could not stop herself from smiling.

If only he would stop calling her my lady all the time.

(X)

Narita National Park, Gunma, Area 11

Another day. Another operation. Another mountain.

Through the viewscreen on the front wall of the MCV's command centre, Alexander had a good view of the objective. A great mountain among mountains, its cap white with snow, gleaming in the sunlight. The sight of it stirred something in the depths of his soul. It was magnificent, ancient, pure, eternal.

How unlike the country it inhabited. How unlike any country, any state, any empire. That mountain had been formed countless millennia ago, when two tectonic plates ground against one-another. Its birth and growth had lasted longer than most human civilizations. It had been here before the Emishi, before the Yamato, before anyone had any notion of a place called Japan.

And it would be there long after Japan and Britannia were not even memories; when all that remained was jumbles of artefacts, their languages unreadable, their voices fallen silent.

It would be there when humanity itself was just dust on the wind.

He didn't know why he was thinking it. He had not been much given to such thoughts before. Not since the war started. Not since he had come to Area 11, the place once known as Japan. He wondered what it was about the place that awakened such thoughts.

But then he heard Princess Cornelia rise from her throne. Time to get on with things.

"What's our situation?" she asked, stepping up to the map table. Euphemia was there too, wearing her tight-fitting pink and white business dress, and keeping her expression placid. Alexander moved closer, but kept far enough away to let the staff officers move around the table unhindered.

"All units are in position, your highness," replied Major Tallis, the most senior staff officer present. He stepped aside to show her the map. Alexander could see the looming shape of the mountain, and the formations deployed in a ring around it. "We've positioned our first line units around the mountain, and the second and third lines have formed their cordon. Nothing can escape us."

"Good. Is Captain Aker's unit ready?"

"He's awaits your orders, your highness."

"Put him on."

Tallis nodded, and a moment later the view of the mountain on the front screen disappeared, replaced by the smiling face of Graham Aker in his cockpit.

"Captain Aker, is your unit ready for action?"

"Yes, your highness. We will descend from the sky like heaven's vengeance."

"I'll hold you to that, Captain." Cornelia's prim mouth formed just the smallest smirk. "The order is given. You may begin your approach."

"Yes, your highness."

The connection was cut, and the mountain view returned.

"If that man's head gets any bigger," commented Darlton dryly. "It'll need its own knightmare frame."

"Indulge him this once, General Darlton," replied Cornelia, her smirk widening. "His record in Syria warrants it, up to a point."

Alexander felt good. This how it was, how it was meant to be. Respectful, but comradely too. It was a place he felt comfortable in, a place where he belonged.

"Well, the order is given," Cornelia said, turning back to her staff officers. "I trust all units are ready?"

"Ready and waiting, your highness."

"Good. The order is given. Phase one activation. All units begin their deployment to start positions."

Alexander watched as the staff officers got to work. He could not help but marvel at the Princess' plan. Most of her troops had arrived by road, but others had come by train; congregating in a marshalling yard to the south-east of the mountain, forced to wait by a carefully-engineered failure of trackside equipment. All in all, the impression was of a large Britannian force just passing through the park on its way to somewhere else; the kind of thing the JLF would have seen countless times before.

Doubtless they had considered the possibility of an attack. They would have to be fools not to be on edge with so many Britannians nearby. But all their experience would tell them that these Britannians were just passing through, and to activate their defences would be to give themselves way unnecessarily. Better just to play possum, as they would always done, and let the blind fools wander along, as they had always done.

Except they wouldn't. The order was given, and the Britannian units were now redeploying to their start positions. Across the region, the roads were being blocked, and the settlements placed under guard. Over in the marshalling yard, the knightmares would be pushing their wagon doors open and leaping out, racing away towards the mountain; the yard workers looking on in astonishment.

Alexander had little doubt that there were informers among the workers. But with the Factspheres jamming all signals, there would be little chance of getting a message out; and even then, not with any detail. By the time the JLF truly understood what was happening, the Britannians would be in their start positions, and Captain Aker's company would be dropping from their transport planes.

And the battle would begin.

"Euphemia will be in charge here," Cornelia went on. "I will deploy as soon as we are ready, and lead the main attack myself. General Darlton will lead on the left. Sir Alexander, you will join him for today."

"Yes, your highness."

Alexander's felt a shiver run down his spine. Ordinarily he would have been unsettled to deploy away from the princess, but he remembered what Guilford had told him when he was promoted. He was being sent out on his own, being allowed to prove himself.

"Respectfully, your highness, there is something else," Darlton spoke up. "There's a man from the Camelot Foundation waiting outside. He claims to represent a laboratory in the settlement. They want help removing their equipment."

There was a rumble of dissatisfaction.

"In the settlement?" Cornelia cocked an eyebrow. "I wasn't told of this."

"It was unregistered, your highness. We knew nothing until he showed up. He had a level one pass, your highness."

Cornelia paused, and Alexander could not help but prick his ears. Level one normally applied to the highest flag-rank officers; the rank directly below Cornelia herself. For some scientist to carry one, that meant only one thing.

"I suppose we'll have to indulge him then. Sir Alexander?"

"Yes, your highness?"

"Go and give him what he needs. But I will not delay the operation, understood?"

"Yes, your highness."

Alexander saluted, and strode out of the command centre. He didn't much care for this imposition, but orders were orders, and it was best to get it done quickly.

It did not take him long to reach the ground-level hatch, nor to find the man in question. It was a man in his forties or so, with brown hair and a furrowed brow. He was being watched by two sentries, one of whom saluted as he approached.

"That will be all," he said, acknowledging the pair. They saluted, and strode off; probably glad to let an officer handle things.

"May I help you sir?" he asked the man. There was no point in being brusque, and something about the man made him unwilling to be.

"Doctor Joseph Fenette, my lord," the man introduced himself, bowing. "I represent the Camelot Institute." He presented the security pass, which Alexander saw was indeed a level one.

Fenette? Could it be…?

"I am told that you need assistance," Alexander went on, forcing the unwelcome thought away. "How may I provide it?"

"Oh, yes. We have a lot of heavy equipment that needs to be removed, as well as computer equipment containing sensitive information. That was, incidentally, why I brought the pass along."

"I understand, of course." And he did. If this was indeed Code-R, as Cornelia no doubt suspected, they would be handling a great deal of sensitive information. "I must recommend that you secure and lock down your computers and storage devices."

"Of course, my lord. I don't mean to be troublesome, but if I could possibly have twenty men, and two heavy trucks, we should be on our way within the hour."

"Good, I'll authorise that."

The man blinked, and then seemed to relax.

"Thank you, my lord."

He paused, as if he wanted to say something."

"Is there something else, doctor?"

"Forgive me for being so bold, my lord," Fenette said, a little awkwardly. "But…are you Sir Alexander Waldstein?"

Alexander was taken aback. And then more than a little frightened. Why would he ask his name? Unless…it was about Shirley…

"Yes, I am," he said. There was no point in denying it. But the tirade he had half-expected did not come.

"My lord, this may be presumptuous of me, but I wanted to thank you," Fenette said, smiling. "For your efforts at Lake Kawaguchi."

Alexander was both relieved and surprised. Then he remembered.

"I seem to recall you from the news, doctor," he said, trying to marshal his thoughts. "Wasn't your child among the hostages?"

"Yes, she was." There was a flicker of darkness in his eyes, as what was no doubt a dark memory resurfaced. "You met her two weeks ago, my lord. At Ashford Academy."

Fenette reached into his breast pocket, and pulled out a photograph. It was unmistakeably Shirley Fenette, but this version was somewhat younger, and clad in the pink pinafore of the academy's middle school.

"Oh, this is an older one, my lord," Fenette said, half-chuckling. "From when she first enrolled. My wife liked the uniform, you see."

Alexander felt very awkward. He really did not want to hurt the man's feelings; for he a seemed a good-natured sort. How best to respond?

"I found her a very charming young lady," he said. "She was very kind to me."

"And she said you were very kind to her, too," Fenette went on. Then he faltered, and the awkwardness returned.

"Sir?"

"I do not mean to be rude, my lord," Fenette went on. "But I did not expect you to be so considerate."

"I do not understand."

"My lord, even in my profession, I have not always been well-treated by nobles." There was a flash of anger in his eyes. "Many would not treat my daughter half so kindly as you did. And many of them would have destroyed the hotel rather than make any effort to save them."

He paused again, and he seemed somehow drained.

"That's why I had to say it my lord. That's why I had to thank you in person. I…it could have been so much worse, my lord."

Alexander didn't know what to say. He could not honestly argue that Fenette was wrong, for he had encountered too many nobles and officers who behaved exactly as the doctor had described. Men and women who seemed to think that the people around them existed for their convenience, or else somehow did not really exist.

"I am very sorry for the way you have been treated, sir," he said, unable to think of anything else. "I can offer no justification. I can only hope that you can accept my sincerity, and those of us who are not like that."

"I am glad to do so, my lord."

Slowly, awkwardly, he offered his hand. Alexander clasped it in the knightly manner.

"If you please, sir, I am out of time," he said. "Can you make your way back?"

"Yes, my lord. I have a car waiting."

"Good. I will send the men to you immediately. Show your pass and they will respect it."

"Thank you, my lord. We're in the old university building, in the settlement. It's the one with the big dome."

"Very well."

He acknowledged Fenette with a nod, then turned and strode away.

(X)

Traffic jam.

Around the truck in which he was seated, Kyoshiroh Tohdoh could hear the rumble of engines, the endless hooting of horns, the angry shouts. He could smell burnt rubber, hot metal, and tempers fraying.

"Just like the old days," mused Ryoga Senba, seated in front of him.

Like all of them, he was wearing civilian work fatigues; presenting the image of a team of delivery drivers, handling two truckloads of industrial equipment from Toyama Settlement to Tokyo Settlement. Of course, that wasn't the real cargo, or the real destination, but no one who checked the manifest would know that.

Kyoshiroh kept his eyes closed, filtering out the noise and smell, trying to centre himself, to think.

"This better not be what I think it is," complained Nagisa Chiba, in the driver's seat. Kyoshiroh understood her disquiet. Any number of things could cause a traffic jam, but there was one in particular that he, and his four subordinates, dreaded above all.

"Get the manifest," Senba grunted. Kyoshiroh looked through his eyelashes, and saw a blue-uniformed police officer striding towards them. His uniform was that of the NAC police, those who still served the collaborationist government that managed those parts of Area 11 not under direct Britannian control. There was once a time when the mere sight of that uniform would have been his stomach churn. But after fighting, hiding, and simply surviving for seven long years, and all the things he had done, and seen done by others, he could no longer pass judgement quite so easily.

"What's the holdup, officer?" Senba asked casually, taking the manifest tablet from Chiba.

"Sorry about this," the officer said, in Japanese. "But we've had to close the road. The Britannians are up to something in the park. Looks like a battle."

"Well, we wouldn't want to get caught up in that," mused Senba, playing his good-natured old coot routine to perfection. "Any idea how long?"

"No idea, sorry. You know the Britannians. Best just to cut your engines and get comfortable."

"All right. Thanks for the warning."

The officer nodded, and continued on his way.

"They must've found the base," Chiba hissed, turning in her seat to face him as soon as the officer was out of earshot. "We have to get over there!"

"Not so fast," Senba cut in. "If it's Cornelia, she'll have come in force, and they're not dopes any more. There's only five of us."

Kyoshiroh knew he was right. Before, when the garrison had gone lax, they could pull off all kinds of nonsense. But since Cornelia had arrived, and licked them into shape, they weren't making the same old mistakes. If they tried to blast their way in, the Britannians would respond, and forcefully.

"We can't just leave them!" pleaded Chiba. "General Katase's in there, and half our stuff. The JLF'll be finished!"

Senba said nothing, and neither did Kyoshiroh. Chiba was also right, and he knew it. The Narita base was the JLF's biggest and most sophisticated facility, and contained a substantial proportion of its stockpiled equipment. Its loss would be a major blow, though not necessarily fatal if Katase could pull off an evacuation.

But Cornelia would be prepared for that. Unlike some Britannian generals, it seemed, she had actually read the manuals. The mountain would be surrounded with at least two layers, with all road and rail routes blocked. It would take a miracle to get Katase and his troops out of there.

The comm beeped. Senba turned round and tapped the button to accept the call.

"Senba."

"That cop just said there's a battle going on!" It was Shogo Asahina, in the truck behind with Kosetsu Urabe. "What do we do?"

"Hold up just a minute," Senba replied, no doubt praying that no one was eavesdropping. "We're trying to get in touch with HQ. Just sit tight."

He disconnected the comm, and gave Kyoshiroh that look.

He knew what they wanted. They wanted another miracle. They always wanted more miracles.

Kiseki-no-Tohdoh, the JLF called him. Tohdoh the Miraculous. Tohdoh, the victor of Itsukushima.

He would never be free of it, that much he knew. He would never be free of Itsukushima, when he had lured some Britannian warships into the Straits of Itsukushima, and then showered them with every missile and shell he could lay his hands. The ships had burned, and some had even sunk; though the wrecks had long since been removed.

It was a single victory; one small victory in a hopeless war. It had been really nothing more than basic military art; concealment, patience, and good timing. But they saw only the victory, only the miracle. They would never let go of it, never let him forget it, or deny it. They would always look to him for more, for the divine wind to blow at his command.

And he could not deliver. He could command neither the Gods nor the winds. He was just a man, who could handle himself in a knightmare, keep his unit in good order, and sometimes come up with a plan.

And he was out of plans. Here, at last, was the unwinnable battle. Here, at least, their delusions would be crushed. Along with Japan's last hope of freedom.

Unless…

"If we go in there, we will probably die for nothing," he said, opening his eyes at last. "But Cornelia will be on the field. The Queen of Knights cannot do otherwise. If we can strike at her, General Katase may yet have a chance."

He looked from one to the other, and saw their eyes. He did not have to ask them, or even to order them. He knew they understood. That was why he had chosen them.

"Tell Asahina and Urabe," he said. "We'll have to cut our way through."

(X)

It was going well so far.

Alexander scanned his eyes over his viewscreens, alert for any sign of threat. Around him, General Darlton's command followed him up the mountainside, rifles and G-cannons at the ready. At the front were the purple Gloucesters of Princess Cornelia's knights, behind were the blue Sutherlands of the garrison; the devicers they had spent so many weeks licking into shape after years of laxity and bad leadership. They were shaping up well.

"Stay close to me, Rai," he said, glancing at his screen to see that his understudy was in place.

"Yes my lord," Rai replied, without hesitation. Alexander was not particularly worried, at least not for the moment. Rai was handling his Sutherland with the skill he would expect of a full knight, keeping up despite the rough terrain. But the real test would come soon.

"Thermal contacts up ahead." It was Clift, over to his right. "Looks like infantry."

"Infantry," Alexander thought. He pictured them creeping through the undergrowth, trying to stay out of sight. If they got close enough to fire off an RPG they could be problem, more so if they had ATGMs. Their homing systems could chase down his knightmares, especially in such rough terrain. And their firepower made them overkill.

Something else caught his eye. It was movement, just above a rock bluff to his front. He saw it emerge at the top of the bluff. It was painted green, with two narrow cylinders extending from it.

"Gun turret!" he roared. The turret halted, and began swivelling towards them. Rai fired, and the turret blew apart.

"Well done, Rai," he said, and meant it.

"Thank you, my lord."

"More contacts, to the right!"

Alexander looked, and blinked in surprise as three shapes rose from the ground in a forest clearing; like actors being lifted to the stage. They were Glasgows, or rather the local Burai variant, painted in JLF green.

"Knightmares! On the right!"

He fell into his evasion pattern, levelling his pistols to fire. One of the Burais fired; quick bursts of tracer bracketing him as he evaded. Then a line of tracer strafed the Burai, and it blew apart. Freed from its fire, Alexander lined up his pistols and fired, perforating another of the Burais until it toppled over and lay still.

"Knightmares incoming!"

"I see them!" It was Darlton, his Gloucester hefting a long-barrelled G-cannon; a weapon he had a fondness for. He fired, sending a shot into the trees a few hundred metres up the mountain. A crump reverberated down the mountain, and Alexander saw the broken trees flying away from the rising smoke.

"I don't know if I got them," Darlton called out. "Keep an eye up there."

Alexander looked around. The third Burai was down, with no sign of any survivors. JLF personnel rarely surrendered, and he wasn't sure he could criticize them for it.

"A little too easy," mused Clift. "A very innovative fortress, but not much of a fight for all that."

"If you want a challenge, we can send you to Santiago," retorted Darlton. "First, we finish up here."

Alexander had heard of the Santiago line; the network of underground fortresses that protected southern Spain and Portugal from attack. It was held to be impregnable, and indeed, Britannia had stopped trying to penetrate it many years ago.

His thoughts were disturbed by a strange feeling in his feet. He paused, looking around for some sign of attack, but none came. There was no sign of the enemy anywhere.

Then it grew stronger. It was a vibration coming from below. Mystified, he tapped at his dashboard, bringing up his diagnostic. There was indeed a vibration coming up through his knightmare's legs.

"General Darlton…"

"I can feel it too," Darlton interrupted. "All units, be alert. Something's going on underground."

Then he heard it, a great, low rumble coming from up the mountain. Alexander turned, and his blood ran cold as he saw what was coming. A great black wave, as black as crude oil, thundering down the mountain towards them. Everything it touched, every tree, every rock, vanished underneath it.

And then the mountain moved. It shifted with a low, burbling groan, the ground before him distending and distorting; the forest itself sinking into the ground. It was as if the mountain itself was coming down.

The ground erupted, a geyser of scalding water bursting out and fountaining over them. With it came the mud, rocks and shattered trees flying through the air.

"Move!" bellowed Darlton. As one they ran, racing away for the edge of the mudslide. Alexander slammed down his pedals and moved, racing on and on, heart pounding in his chest, until he reached a large, exposed rock and leapt onto it. He turned, and saw more knightmares racing towards him, including Rai's Sutherland.

And then the torrent passed. The thick mud washed over them, washing them away down the mountainside. Rai had almost reached him, but the ground gave way beneath his feet, and his Sutherland toppled over, the mud sloshing mercilessly over it.

"My lord!" Rai shrieked. Lightning flashed in Alexander's veins as he fired off his Slash Harkens, wrapping them around the Sutherland's torso. He reached out his Gloucester's hand, grabbing the Sutherland's own. He pulled, servomotors and slash harkens straining to pull Rai free, the coiling motors whining and straining. Red lights flashed on his monitor, but still the Sutherland would not come free. Still the mud poured, still it buffeted and sucked at him

He felt cold, He felt sick. It was as if the mountain itself had risen against them, as if it had laid claim on Rai, and was bent on sucking him down into the darkness; to trap him forever in the depths of the earth.

For such was its vengeance. Such was the land's vengeance, for the despoilation wrought upon it. It had claimed its sacrifices, and it wanted one more.

No! It would not have Rai! It would not have that innocent, unhappy boy! It would not claim this one! He wrapped his Gloucester's hands around the harken cables and pulled, and pulled.

Slowly, the Sutherland came free, and settled onto the rock. It's legs were gone, and the rest was battered, bent, and covered in the thick mud.

"Rai, are you all right?" cried Alexander, his voice hoarse, his eyes pricking with tears.

"I'm all right!" It was Rai. "My lord, you saved me!"

"Hold still." Alexander fought to master himself as he clambered around the Sutherland, and grabbed at the hatch, wrenching it open. Rai stood up, unhurt, and stared down the mountain. Alexander followed his gaze.

A great black mantle had settled over the mountainside. It ran right down to the bottom, and had even overrun the settlement. Alexander hoped, prayed even, that they had all gotten out all right.

He could see movement. He could see men and knightmares moving, picking themselves up around the edge of the mudslide.

The battle. The army. What had happened? How bad had the damage been? Where was General Darlton? Where was…

"My lord! Please go!" Rai called out. "You have to find the Vicereine! She'll be in danger!"

"I can't just leave you here!" Alexander protested. "This land isn't safe!"

"I can make it on foot!"

Rai bent down inside his cockpit, and emerged with a backpack and a rifle; the same survival kit and weapon stored in his own cockpit.

"Please trust me, my lord!"

He looked straight up at Alexander, straight into his factsphere. Alexander looked back, and saw something in those blue eyes.

A knight's strength. And a noble heart.

"Be careful, Rai."

(X)

"Status report!"

"We're still trying to confirm!"

"Your Highness fall back! You're in danger there!"

"I don't care, forget about me!" Cornelia li Britannia snapped, as everything fell apart around her. "Find out about Darlton! And where's Sir Alexander!"

But no one seemed to have an answer. The comm was a cacophony of panic-stricken voices as her subordinates' discipline collapsed.

Rage boiled within her. They were failing! All those hours, all that sweat, spent to train them, to lead them, to show them what they were capable of! And now they were falling apart all around her! They were running around like headless chickens, or crouching in holes like frightened rabbits, screaming for someone to give them orders.

Was it truly so bad? Had so many of her officers been killed that the units simply could not recover? Could such a calamity have happened?

And then it was over.

Cornelia stared down at the destruction, hardly daring to believe it. A pall of dust hung in the air over the muddy slick, which had reached the very bottom of the mountain. It was already crashing through the settlement, the white buildings sinking under the black tide.

She had to hand it to the JLF, for being so ruthless as to bring down the mountain on their own troops, and their own base. She was only surprised that they were that desperate. Had her encirclement been more effective than she'd realised?

"New enemy force confirmed moving in from the summit," called one of her staff officers from the GCV. "Carius' unit is moving to engage them."

"Hoping to take advantage of all the confusion are they?" Cornelia thought aloud.

"Emergency call from Carius' unit!" came the staff officer's voice again, this time on the verge of panic.

"What's wrong?"

"It's not the Japan Liberation Front! They think it's…the Black Knights!"

"What!" Her heart skipped a beat. "Then it's…!"

(X)

Zero.

Alexander pressed harder on the pedals, as if he could will the Gloucester to go faster, rocks and trees flashing past. He had to find his Princess. He had to protect her. He could not be delayed.

Zero.

It was all over the comm. Black knightmares, and infantry in black uniforms. Zero had come, and he was after Princess Cornelia.

His eyes flashed over his screen. Carius' armours registered as lost, and the only other Britannians he could find were the Purists, along with two icons marked as Unidentified. One hung back, while the other was tearing its way through the Purists, downing two in rapid succession. What could be so powerful?

"Have they knightmares as powerful as ours?" Alexander thought. "Or more so?"

He could see more contacts, moving swiftly through the forest, friendly icons winking out as they came on.

"Waldstein to command!" he snapped into his comm. "Can anyone hear me! This is Waldstein!"

"Alexander!" replied a young woman's voice. "Is that you?"

"Princess Euphemia!" He recognized the voice immediately. "What's the situation? Where's the vicereine?"

"I'm sending her position! Please hurry Alexander! There are two unidentified units coming up behind her!"

The new icons appeared on his screen. Sure enough, there was the princess, with Guilford, several knights, and some army Sutherlands. But, as Euphemia had said, two contacts were approaching along a nearby valley, shielded from Cornelia's view by a line of trees.

She would not see them coming.

"Understood, your Highness!" he replied. "I will not fail!"

Alexander returned his attention to the main screen, easing his knightmare around and aiming it at his princess' position. He gritted his teeth as the two unidentified contacts became four knightmares. He hissed in frustration as they threw themselves upon Cornelia's knights, moving more swiftly than anything he had seen thus far, apart from that one machine tearing up the Purists.

Every moment was an agony, even if only seconds passed. Every instant was a dagger in his heart, even as he flew to his princess' side.

The tree line was up ahead, the one thing keeping him from her. He pulled in his legs, willing his knightmare's legs to bend. He reached maximum speed, hurtling straight for the trees.

He pressed down with all his strength. His Gloucester leapt, sailing over the trees. Alexander looked down.

There were four of them left. Three Gloucesters standing back to back with Guilford, fending off what looked like five Burais.

But where was the princess?

The five enemies actually paused, looking up at him in what might have been bewilderment. They broke away as he came in to land, slewing around the cluster of Gloucesters in a wide arc, landspinners shrieking.

"Better late than never!" Guilford snapped, half joyful, half wrathful.

"Lord Guildford! Where's the vicereine?"

"Heading for Point Nine!" Guilford replied, desperate. "Sir Alexander, you have to…!"

But the five enemies were charging again. Closer than before, Alexander could see that they were not really Burais at all. They were similar in appearance, but from their heads sprouted long horns reaching out over their backs, like those of an antelope, or the mythical Kirin. The cockpit and chassis were painted dark brown, the arms and legs a lighter brown. They carried curved swords, the edges glowing a fiery orange. These they carried one-handed, bringing them up to strike as they came on.

"Alexander Waldstein!" yelled one of them, charging straight at him. "In the name of Japan, face me!"

Alexander was only happy to oblige. He brought up his Machine Pistols, firing rapidly. But the enemy was agile, seeming to drift back and forth across the ground, as if it were made from living water. He was reminded of Seraphaum, of the man he had faced there, who was just too fast, too agile.

He slewed sideways as the enemy chopped down, the glowing sword slashing through empty air. As he came around in a smooth arc, he holstered his pistols, activating the Stun Tonfa on his knightmare's wrists. The enemy came again, cutting down from above. Alexander raised his left tonfa, catching the blade. The blade shrieked, and his tonfa crackled and failed as the blade cut into it. Alexander pulled away and fell back.

Shisei-ken.

It had to be then. He knew of no other Elevens who could fight half so well as the Shisei-ken, the famed elite of the JLF, the bodyguards of Tohdoh the Miraculous.

He glanced to one side, and saw the other enemy, the one whose arms and legs were off-white rather than light brown. That one was fighting Guilford, fighting him to a standstill.

Was that him? Was that the miracle-worker, who had surprised his enemies at Itsukushima? Was he the one on whom the Elevens, also called Japanese, laid their hopes?

Had Zero come to supplant him?

He fell back before the onslaught. The enemy was attacking, chopping and slashing with deadly speed. He could not block, for the blade would cut him to pieces. He could only duck and dive, looking for a chance to strike back.

But it would not come. This was no lesser warrior. His style was near-flawless. There was no opening.

So he would have to make one.

The enemy raised his sword. Alexander lunged, hurling himself straight at the Burai. They clashed, the Burai staggering backwards, Alexander drove his remaining stun tonfa at the Burai's plastron, but the Burai managed to back away. Desperate, he swung his damaged tonfa, and caught the Burai in the head. The Burai staggered, but turned, bringing its sword to en-garde position. Alexander thrust with his active stun tonfa, driving it straight into the clenched hands.

The Burai was flung back, its arms flinging out as lightning crackled over them. The sword flew, and Alexander reached out, catching it in one hand. He spun, swinging it hard against the Burai's side. The blade was inactive, but it clanged as it struck, leaving a deep dent and sending the Burai stumbling away.

Alexander squeezed the rollerball, willing the sword to respond. But it did not. All he got was an INCOMPATIBLE warning on his screen.

The Burai came at him again, punching at his head. Alexander darted back, catching the blow on his arm, and swinging the sword again. It caught the Burai in the head, driving it sideways, sparks flying from the neck joint. He kicked, knocking the stricken Burai back, and readying his sword to strike again.

With a flash of rocket engines, the cockpit leapt back. It flew away, vanishing over the trees, as the abandoned frame tumbled to the ground.

Alexander looked up, looking for his comrades. Guilford was still fighting the leader, but two of his fellow knights were down, while the third was being menaced by the other three Burais. Two of them broke off, manoeuvring to face him.

Alexander raised the sword, and he saw the tiny blades set into the edge; like a chainsaw. He was not familiar with the sword arts of old Japan, so he held it like a sabre, in a high-guard position, blade aimed at the enemy and curving down.

The pair charged, and Alexander readied himself, teeth gritted. If he was marked to die there, he would so as a knight of Britannia. Closer and closer they came, glowing sabres raised high.

And then they were gone, lost in a cloud of smoke. Alexander looked left and right, frantic for any sight of them, half-expecting to be struck from behind.

But it never came. The smoke was clearing, and all he could see was Guilford, even his knightmare seeming bewildered.

The Shisei-ken were gone.

(X)

"So Zero escaped again?"

"The Japan Liberation Front hammered our defences," Guilford explained, as he, Cornelia, and Alexander strode along the MCV corridor. "He slipped away in the confusion."

"Despicable, using someone else to cover his movements," Cornelia's lip curled in disgust. "What about Kururugi?"

"He's safe now. We had to wait until his energy filler ran out to finally stop him."

"Stop him?" Cornelia was incredulous. "From what? Was there a problem with his unit?"

Guilford paused. He seemed confused, and Alexander couldn't blame him. There, in the sterile security of the M-1 base, what he had seen was harder to credit than out there on the battlefield.

"Apparently," he eventually replied, "it was going berserk."

That was an understatement. The word hardly compared to what he had seen.

The Lancelot had been deployed on Euphemia's orders, racing to Cornelia's assistance. It had driven off her attackers, and gone chasing after Zero on Cornelia's orders.

But then something had gone wrong. When he and Guilford finally came upon the Lancelot, it was lost in some kind of frenzy; firing off its weapon at random, the pilot screaming like a damned soul.

"A failure unworthy of my older brother's forces." If Cornelia was half as perturbed as her knight was, she made no show of it. "Some malfunction?"

"No, your Highness. Apparently the pilot suffered some sort of mental or nervous breakdown." Guilford actually sounded concerned.

"I see," Cornelia replied, something in her tone implying that she did not like what she saw. "Unfortunate. It so happens that I owe him my life."

"I have no excuse, your Highness."

Alexander's heart ached. He could tell that Guilford was ashamed, humiliated. He was her personal Knight-of-Honour, the first she had created. He was also her Knight of the Body, tasked with protecting her person with his very life. Yet he had let himself be drawn into a battle, and had failed to protect her when she needed him the most.

Only Kururugi's intervention had saved her, only for him to go chasing after Zero, and then somehow lose his mind.

"Guiford, don't go blaming yourself again." Cornelia let out a weary sigh. "This battle has not been anyone's finest hour."

"Your highness, the one to blame is me."

Both Cornelia and Guilford rounded on him. Alexander felt a twinge of embarrassment, of regret, but there was no going back now. It had to be said.

"I allowed myself to be drawn into the battle around Lord Guilford," he went on. "I misjudged the situation, and disobeyed his orders."

There was nothing else he could say. There was nothing else he could allow to be said. The thought of Guilford taking the blame was more than he could bear.

"Guilford, leave us for a moment," Cornelia ordered. Guilford bowed, and stalked away along the gantry, leaving them alone.

"So, it's your fault, is it?" Cornelia asked, regarding him with cold eyes. "It's your fault that I was nearly captured, that half my knights are dead, and that Guilford got himself bogged down?"

Her tone was sardonic, and it made Alexander nervous.

"Yes, your highness."

Cornelia paused, and Alexander braced himself for what was to come.

"Does Lord Guilford's life mean so little to you?" she wondered aloud. "I thought that the two of you were friends."

"I…" Alexander trailed off, bewildered by her response, and uncertain how to answer. "I…I regard Lord Guilford with the highest respect, your highness."

That much was true. But Alexander dared not think of himself as Guilford's friend. That would imply that they were equals, and somehow on the same level. Clearly that was not the case.

"Alexander…". Cornelia's tone shifted to one of exasperated patience. "Lord Guilford will insist on treating me like one of his women. I tolerate it because such a combination of loyalty and ability is hard to find. That doesn't mean I will tolerate it in you."

Alexander felt sick. Like a fool, he had said the wrong thing, and managed to offend her. He was always saying the wrong thing, and she was always laughing it off; like he was still that young boy she had taught, and tolerated.

"I would rather die than offend you, your highness," he replied, meaning every word.

"Then do not offend me," she retorted, somewhat coldly. "Do not leap to defend me at the expense of your fellows. Do not sacrifice the mission to my safety. Do not," she almost snapped the word, "think I am so weak that I need protection. Am I understood?"

"Yes, your Highness." Alexander found her harshness hard to bear. But he knew that he deserved no better.

Cornelia seemed to soften, some of the cold leaving her countenance.

"I have heard from your young protégé, Rai," she said, her voice lighter. "He tells me that you saved him from the landslide. He admires you very much, you know."

Alexander felt his cheeks redden. That was the last thing he had expected to hear.

"You can keep that sword you took," Cornelia went on. "But if you feel the need to atone, you can perform a task for me. Two in fact."

"I am at your service, your highness," Alexander replied, without hesitation. Cornelia paused a moment, regarding him.

"Your official task is to wait here until intelligence is done sifting through the site," she said. "Act as my liaison until their task is done. In the meantime, there is something else."

She paused, and her eyes hardened.

"ASEEC has posted their intent to remain here for the time being. Apparently Kururugi wants to help with the recovery efforts; though they tell me the chances of finding anyone alive are remote. I want you to observe Kururugi. I want to know what he does, and what state he's in."

Alexander was taken aback. She wanted him to spy on Kururugi? A fellow soldier?

"I know this is hardly knightly," Cornelia said, her tone softening just a little. "But something strange is going on around here. First this Zero character appears, then my brother dies alone on the bridge of his own MCV, then the late Lord Gottwald suddenly turns traitor, and then Kururugi goes berserk while in pursuit of Zero."

She paused, and Alexander saw something cold and dark in her eyes, something terrible.

She was afraid, he realised. She was faced with something beyond her comprehension, something utterly outside her experience; and one that struck at the heart of everything she believed.

And he was afraid too.

"I obey, your highness."

(X)