Recap: The party experienced some excitement between a foiled assassination and Euphie's declaration that Numbers deserve rights.
Chapter 42: Where Did We Go Wrong?
August 5, 1997
Clovis made his own debut at my party. He is the antithesis of Schneizel. He laughs and plays. He is by far the happiest child in the royal family. Even Guinevere lacked his charm at his age. I think we will get along wonderfully when he is older.
October 31, 2017
Clovis is dead and Father is responsible. All I can remember is how Clovis used to be: a beacon of hope that our family would not corrupt everything. At least with Schneizel I know why I erred. I was too weak. With Clovis, I can only wonder. Perhaps we are all doomed.
—Excerpts from Odysseus's Journal
Viceroy Palace, Area Eleven
Surrounded at all sides by insistent reporters shouting questions at her and Euphie, Nunnally wondered at the wisdom of her decision. She meant what she said. Clovis had been wrong, and they should not dance around the issue, which suggested that the slaughter of people under their protection was fine. Then Euphie had thrown oil onto a manageable fire.
Nunnally didn't disagree with her sentiment. The Number system was wrong.
Inhumane.
But that was a truth Britannia was not yet ready to hear.
"I am not trying to discredit Clovis," Nunnally snapped at a particularly insistent reporter. "Nor does my brother have anything to do with this. The data speaks for itself. Productivity has dropped."
How was it fair that Euphie was spirited away by her sister while Nunnally had to field these stupid questions?
Her stomach twisted. Her father and Lelouch would both be quite displeased with her.
"So Prince Lelouch has not been handling the Viceroy's duties?" the reporter pressed. "Who told you this data?"
Damn them all to hell. They thought that she was her brother's puppet.
They kept pressing in, their questions incessant. Why was she the first to call? Was she a Number sympathizer? Did she hate Clovis? What had her mother done to swing her this opportunity? How would Britannian policies change? What did she have to say regarding the recent deaths?
She couldn't breathe, could barely parse their questions from each other, and her silence spurred them on like vultures at a fresh carcass.
"Please, give the girl some room," Schneizel interrupted, his voice calm and silky smooth. "Do you have no shame? At least allow her the chance to breathe."
"Thank you," Nunnally whispered as his hand pressed firmly against her back.
"Now," Schneizel continued. "I think my dear sister was quite clear, and I must agree with her. While we all cherish Clovis, he is prone to acting in fits of passion—a trait not desirable in a viceroy. That is all there is to it. There is no need to make such a fuss over a simple truth."
"What of Princess Euphemia's statement?"
Nunnally scowled. "The Number system exists for a reason. We most certainly cannot dismantle it and let all former Numbers flood our nation as Britannian citizens."
A reporter cleared his throat. "Your Highness, do you have any comments regarding your upcoming marriage in March?"
Schneizel radiated disapproval and pressed her firmly forward. "No comment."
"You're really marrying the Tianzi?" Nunnally whispered as they finally broke free from the crowd. "Even after the invasion?"
"Keep your head down," Schneizel hissed. "Father is looking for you… and your brother. He appears to be displeased as well."
Her shoulders slumped.
"The Emperor is using the invasion to push the marriage through as quickly as possible. Everything is an opportunity for him. The Eunuchs are tripping over themselves to please him. They saw how easily we repelled their efforts. They know they cannot win against us."
"And you?" Nunnally asked quietly. "What is your opinion of this?"
He sighed. "I will do as told and finally be out of Father's hair. At least he is offering me an empire of my own as a consolation prize."
A slight giggle escaped her. "I think you will do just fine."
"I do not know. They are a broken Empire, barely worth conquering. Given a decade, they would collapse under their own fate." Disgust dripped from his every word. "It is a coffin wearing the robes of an empire, especially with the increasing tensions around Djibouti."
"I thought that was settled," Nunnally whispered.
"It never was settled. The Chinese have been stewing for over half a year upon the perceived insult of being excluded from the deal. With Father pressing to have the strait closed as retaliation, I fear they will do something reckless." His hand withdrew, and she heard the unmistakable sound of a chair being dragged across the floor. "Come now, let us not talk of such dreary, boring things."
"I enjoy it."
"I know you do," he said fondly. "But dear sister, you still have much to learn. Unless you want all of Britannia tomorrow to hear of your misstep, you must find a bigger story to tell them."
"I doubt Father will even let it get into the morning papers," Nunnally said bitterly.
"True, but rumors spread. Fortunately for you, that means you only need another interesting story to tell. Do you fancy a game of chess?"
"It's been too long," Nunnally said eagerly.
"E-4," Schneizel opened. The familiar thud of a pawn crossed the board.
Groping through the air, she found the chair and took a seat. "Twenty-seconds to a move. E-5."
"Must we?" he complained softly. "Fine. If only because it is your birthday. You really should learn the value of slowing down and considering things through."
Twenty minutes later, Nunnally grinned proudly as cameras clicked around her. "Checkmate, brother."
Viceroy Palace, Area Eleven
As the sun rose, Marianne rolled into the dungeons and paused at her husband's side as he observed their fresh prisoner. She was nothing special to look at. Plain and nondescript, perfect for an assassin, but her bearing was devoid of any training.
"Your brother?" Marianne asked, wincing as waves of hatred slammed into her mind.
"He would, but he is far too controlling to allow his disciples to run freely. She has no oath."
"Has she said anything?"
He sighed. "To do that would require lowering the dosage, and her geass will consume the mind of her interrogators. It drives people mad. I cannot fathom how Breisgau and Stadtfeld managed to resist it."
"I told you they were special. Imagine what would have happened had she approached Sumeragi."
"Conjecture," he dismissed. "Do you think this could be C.C.'s handiwork?"
"If this was the only one, perhaps, but she is picky choosing her contractors. V.V. is the one who hands out geass like candy."
"It is not her style," he agreed. That left only one unsettling possibility. "Why would they resurface now?"
"The vast majority of unexplainable happenings have been occurring around Clovis. Maybe, the code bearer was fond of someone in Shinjuku."
"I should recall Lelouch," Charles said. "He has already been drawing assassins. Henry reports his food was poisoned at each meal, not that he ever got anywhere close enough to eat it."
"I wish his paranoia wasn't necessary," Marianne mumbled. If he learned of the matter, any progress to stability would be lost. "He's not going to leave willingly. He wants to claim Kusakabe's head, and Nunnally has her network here. You will need an explanation."
"Maybe, it's time," he suggested.
Marianne shuddered. Her son had just begun opening up to them although he had been strangely withdrawn with his father last night. Upturning his world again could ruin everything. "He needs more time."
"He has stumbled near it multiple times. He will wander too close eventually, and V.V. will not allow him the luxury of time."
"Do you want to tell him what is happening to his guard? You know how sentimental he gets."
Charles stiffened and turned away. "Dispose of her, Marianne. I'll assign more Unspeakables to him."
Tokyo Crown Court, Area Eleven
Under the Emperor's portrait, Arthur Greenford tapped his foot impatiently as spectators streamed into the courtroom. To air a noble's personal affairs to the public was a travesty of justice. Of course, what else could he expect of the commoner's brat? Yet his usual disdain was dulled by apprehension. Normally, such a case would be easy to win, but the Purists' strongest defendants had mysteriously died in the past few weeks—the brat's fault undoubtedly.
"Lord Greenford," Jeremiah greeted him coolly. "You wished to speak to me?"
"Yes. It has been far too long since I have caught up with the son of my dear friend." Had Arthur been more vigilant, he would have noticed Jeremiah falling back into old habits. "This is a terrible day—your father's legacy being accused of treason."
"He would be devastated by how far they have fallen."
Arthur paused. "You believe there is merit to such outlandish accusations? Jeremiah, they are men from good, respectable families. Then we must consider recent fatalities; it feels as if there is a conspiracy afoot."
"There is," Jeremiah said. "Treason."
"Yes! But not from the nobles, who have proven themselves for generations." Arthur leaned forward. "Do you not find Prince Lelouch's rise to power strange? I hear most unsettling rumors about him. He wishes to destroy us, and this is his opening play."
Jeremiah's expression cooled to a thin tight line. His amber eyes watched him impassively. "My time by His Highness suggests he is an exemplary young man, Lord Greenford."
Was he serious? Jeremiah was already enamored with the whore's son. A boyhood crush was supposed to fade with time. Damn the youth's sense of honor.
"Your opinion might change if you had the honor of a meeting," Jeremiah said.
Arthur rolled his eyes and turned to the large, gold inlaid doors. "Let us not waste our time. What has he offered you?"
Jeremiah's lips twisted. "He does not have to offer me anything, Lord Greenford. He is royalty. He may hold what opinions he wishes, but his competence cannot be questioned. He is an asset to the Empire, more so than Prince Clovis ever was."
"Ah, Lord Greenford," the demon child's voice interrupted. The brat observed him imperiously down his nose. "I was hoping we would have a chance to discuss a few matters before the trial. Shall we?"
Gritting his teeth, Arthur followed the boy, furious that he had not waited for his acknowledgment. What was the world coming to, with brats like him in power? He had taken over all of Prince Clovis's duties, acting as the viceroy in all but name, neatly subverting the Purists' coup with his own. They had practically laid the foundations for his success. Now, he would secure his power base by abusing his power to strip the titles from his opponents. He already assassinated the strongest of his enemies.
Had Arthur been in Area Eleven prior to today, he had no doubt that an assassin would have graced his bedchambers. Where had the boy even come across agents of such caliber?
He should've listened to Frederick. They had all been fools, playing to the boy's tune.
In the judge's office, the boy took a seat in the largest chair, his palms pressed together before him on the table.
"You will be presiding?" Arthur asked as Jeremiah positioned himself on the boy's left side to signal his support.
"Of course. That is within my power," Prince Lelouch said. "And you will be called upon as a witness by the defense. It is such a shame that your party managed to escape your control to engage in such indefensible crimes."
"A shame," Arthur agreed, his mouth drying. There was no such thing as a fair trial, with bribes and favors a customary occurrence. "Is it not a conflict of interest with the realm bringing charges and you, well, a prince?"
The word soured in his mouth. The boy was indeed a prince. With him presiding, the defense had no chance. The prince desired their annihilation.
He should've put more effort into eliminating him. The prince's eyes glimmered in a silent challenge. It would not be an easy task; he had the air of someone accustomed to deadly threats. Arthur would be far from the first one who tried to enforce the purity of the royal family.
"The Emperor presides over trials against those who dare to commit crimes against him," Prince Lelouch pointed out, tone neutral. "These are not crimes against myself, but my brother. You can be sure they will have a fair trial, Lord Greenford. One far fairer than any normal Britannian trial."
The boy already had delusions of seeing himself on the throne. The Emperor was encouraging him by granting him such opportunities. If the boy claimed the throne, he would ruin Britannia.
Fairness? He was infected with such quaint commoner notions.
"I see," Arthur said. "I am glad that you exhibit such care."
"Yes, how generous of me when your party conspires my downfall. It is fortunate that the Purists' crimes were so geographically contained, otherwise, this matter would need to be handled by a higher court."
Struggling to keep his face calm, Arthur agreed.
"Unless, of course, were it to arise in the trial that the conspiracy against Prince Clovis was part of a larger plan."
Fair. The demon before him knew exactly what fair meant in Britannian courts. Arthur should've been more concerned with protecting the evidence. Whom had the boy bribed or coerced?
"If that were to be the case..." Prince Lelouch tilted his head. "Why? This would become a matter of high treason. I pity their families; I doubt they would know how to survive, bereft of a title. Well, if they were that lucky."
"What do you mean?" Arthur asked, despite himself.
"Father's Unspeakables are running a bit short staffed as of late."
Nausea gouged his throat, and Arthur prayed to Empress Elizabeth that this prince would remain far from the throne. Taking an Unspeakable was a barbaric practice, reserved for only the worst offenders. The Emperor was the only one keeping the practice alive. His Unspeakables never turned traitor; they were maniacally loyal.
Privately, Arthur believed that the Emperor drugged them to ensure their endless obedience. Their empty eyes were unnatural.
Sagging in defeat, Arthur inclined his head. "What do you desire from me, Your Highness?"
"And there I run into a smaller problem." Prince Lelouch dared to smile apologetically. "Whatever terms I set, you will undoubtedly violate once the danger passes, so I need some permanent concessions."
Arthur narrowed his eyes; he would destroy him. "Of course."
"It has come to my attention that you have an excess of titles to spare." He slid a contract across the desk. "I am unsure if you noticed a new face among the debutante opening ball. Nathan Stadtfeld. You will sign the Greenford march to him."
"This will never hold up in court," Arthur argued weakly.
"Who will oppose me?" Prince Lelouch asked with mock concern.
No one, they both knew. The Emperor was the only one who could. His Majesty sought to train his rabid pup instead of putting it down.
"Excellent. We understand each other." A pen rolled across the desk to him, followed by a stack of papers. "You also have an excess of baronies to your name."
Hands trembling, Arthur regretted ever participating in this foolish game. If Lord Kewell did not hang for treason by the end of the week, Arthur would put him out of his misery personally. He read over the first contract, standard and simple, with no escape. The only addendum was a paltry sum. What was a few million pounds when compared to the loss of a title?
"Oh, I almost forgot." Prince Lelouch passed another paper. "You have a few earldoms as well. Parting with one should be no strenuous action."
Why was Arthur partaking in this farce again? Not to save those doomed idiots who had allowed their plotting to be uncovered. If the scope of the investigation broadened, as it inevitably would when moving to the imperial court for High Treason, his own illicit dealings could easily be revealed.
He flipped through the stack of contracts, noting they all missed a name for who would acquire the barony.
"I considered asking you to kill yourself," Prince Lelouch continued conversationally, "but I determined that it would be easier to ensure your cooperation if you could guarantee your own survival. These are quite worthless to me should you die prematurely. The more you sign, the more your life is worth. Of course the shame will be yours to bear when people learn that you willingly signed them away. I wonder if people will think you went mad?"
Arthur grit his teeth and set the pen down. First, the march to one Nathan Stadtfeld. He desperately wished he had attended the first debutante ball to know who would claim his name. Then the earldom to bequeath upon Lady Milly Ashford. At least, the old man was not the recipient. He had a chance perhaps to influence her to his cause.
Then the baronies.
How many did he possess? He signed his name. Ten. Twenty. Fifty. With every stroke, he destroyed his nephew's future. His daughters' prospects. With every stroke, he gained a little more time on his lease of life so he could destroy the greatest threat to Britannia to have walked upon this earth since Napoleon.
Fifty-seven baronies later, to people yet to be specified, Arthur set down his pen and prayed it would be enough. How fast would the prince go through them?
"As a courtesy, I will refrain from informing my sister of what exactly transpired between Clovis and yourself. Should the affection she feels for your nephew be genuine, there should be no problems on that front."
Arthur stood stiffly. "I will kill you."
Jeremiah snarled. "Lord Greenford, you overstep! His Highness—""
Prince Lelouch raised his hand. "But he is not Lord Greenford any longer. Which Earldom will you claim for your name?"
"Stamford."
"Well, Earl of Stamford," Prince Lelouch said, with a mocking lilt. "I look forward to your attempts upon my life. Hopefully, your attempts at subterfuge will go better, as an execution due to treason would be inconvenient. I will spare you the indignity of calling upon you in court today. Those who partook will be stripped of their titles and the key players will be hung for treason. Their families will be safe thanks to your efforts."
"Don't you see what he's doing, Jeremiah!" Arthur spat. "You would follow such an honorless cur?"
"I have enough honor to not conspire treason," Jeremiah replied.
Arthur swung his arm out. "He is plotting treason! His actions undermine the principles of our nation. This will destroy us."
"Maybe, but I will have acted with honor," Jeremiah said. "I believe my father would prefer for me to stand proud than be a mindless puppet."
"You are his puppet now. Good day, Your Highness." Arthur slammed the door on his way out.
Arthur Stamford. He hadn't worn that name since he was a young boy. Stamford. His phone rang. His steward was confused by a request to clear the premise. The brat moved quickly.
Oh, Arthur would be sure not to underestimate him again. This time, he would heed Frederick's words before it was too late. Let the boy be courted by the snake. Arthur would amass his armies from afar. Even Prince Schneizel was preferable to such a monstrosity.
Throwing back his head, he laughed. He would destroy him. He would rip away everything the boy held dear. He would drag his reputation through the mud. Dig up every carcass in the boy's closet, of which there were undoubtedly plenty. He would ground the boy into dust so none would remember that a commoner brat once fouled the royal line. Let the boy expect assassins from him. He might even send one to assuage his suspicion.
Arthur could wait. It was the folly of youth to think a victory meant winning the war.
Running his finger beneath his watch, he checked for the small indent of the chip containing a targeted data dump from his mole in the OSI. The boy liked his Elevens, did he not?
Location Classified, Area Eleven
Lelouch regarded the small team of volunteers gathered around him. They were all expendable, as much as he loathed to admit it. For now, his brother was still preoccupied with tidying up after the festivities and packing his luggage for the inevitable announcements. More importantly, General Asprius, to whom all the evidence pointed to handling the matter, had been called to deal with a false alarm.
Desperately, Lelouch hoped that the strange woman was not involved. Or, at least, that General Asprius dealt with her without Clovis's knowledge.
"This mission is not conventionally dangerous," Lelouch warned. "We are prying into the secrets of a prince and potentially state secrets. As a result, we can expect less guards but the ones to be there to be highly skilled and loyal. Unfortunately, the fight will not end after the completion of this mission. For your own sake, refrain from investigating. If something draws your attention, alert me to it."
"Sir?" a younger soldier asked. "What about yourself? You would be a target as well."
"If we see anything but the poison gas Clovis claimed, he will no longer be the Viceroy and disgraced. As for myself, I don't think the Emperor's use for me has sufficiently waned just yet."
Anger glittered in their eyes at the reminder of whom Lelouch ultimately served. Yes, they wouldn't take the truth well.
"Sir, that is a big risk," Lieutenant Joseph Azar said. "The Emperor has demanded the impossible of us repeatedly. He does not provide us the appropriate supplies, intelligence, or support. If it is something big, then he may simply remove you from the board."
Hadn't Lelouch asked himself that question? He was to execute anyone involved with C.C. This was something his father wanted quiet at all costs. A year ago, he had feared that his father would silence him by throwing him into a villa. Simply another royal on house arrest.
Now, the thought of an assassination flashed across his mind. Henry could do it before Lelouch even realized he had been betrayed.
No. His father was investing too much time into him if this mission was to end in his death.
"Let me worry about that, Lieutenant," Lelouch finally answered. "For now, your job is to keep your noses clean and be ready to disappear if the word comes down."
"Yes, sir."
"Then let's go."
The air was crisp and clear. The decrepit warehouse waited under a flickering light, practically begging to be released from its secrets.
Lelouch grinned eagerly. He had missed this. The thrill of entering the battlefield, knowing his own life was on the line. Tomorrow, he would feel bad about having misled Henry and Frederick. Their job, understandably, was to keep him from such situations. They were also very expendable to his father, and Henry was likely to notice and report if Lelouch tampered with the evidence to downplay Clovis's involvement.
Please, he silently begged. Let it be poison gas.
Roy swore there were powers greater than their mortal preconceptions. Lelouch wished there were so they could relieve his burden.
Absently, he chided himself for his foolishness. If any higher being existed, they were surely malevolent and would answer his prayer with carnage.
With one last check of their tactical gear, they streamed around the corner, the radio crackling quietly in their ears.
"A-3 is clear."
"A-4. Breaching door."
Metal screeched through the silence of dusk, a flock of crows took flight with chilling calls. A quick burst of gunfire before the signal was given for the all-clear. Lelouch inhaled deeply—the sharp scent of gunpowder greeting him like an old friend—as he stepped through the door. Inside, various men and women in lab coats raised their arms in surrender. An armed guard lay slumped over a table, blood slowly dripping onto the floor.
Lelouch let Joseph take the lead who ordered the researchers to step against the wall. His wide grin had a slight manic tinge, purposefully exaggerated to give him a menacing air.
"Please," one of the researchers begged. "We're only doing as we're told. We had no choice!"
"Gosling, you want to see this," one of the soldiers called.
Lelouch peeled away from the group and stepped into the adjoining room, gagging at the reek of preservatives and rot. Flies lazily buzzed around the room, landing on the various butcher racks. Hundreds of limbs swayed in the air, slowly turning on metal hooks.
"What the fuck," Lelouch breathed. He stumbled forward, barely comprehending what he was seeing.
"Fucking shit," the soldier behind mumbled. "It's like a slasher film."
Lelouch closed his eyes. The smell was overpowering. "Everyone, out! Alpha, with me."
Slowly, they cleared the room, finding nothing in the crude storage room—except human limbs. Where had they even come from? He forced his eyes to settle on an arm, bile rising as he noticed the missing fingers.
"What the fuck?" he mumbled again and returned to the main room.
The researchers had the narrow, frantic look of cornered prey. If Lelouch let his emotions slip, he would give into their fantasies and exterminate them on the spot.
"Anything else here?" he asked.
"Gas capsule in the back. Matches witness reports from Shinjuku and has minor exterior damage," a soldier replied.
Lelouch rubbed his forehead, silently cursing to himself again. How had so many people died without it being noticed?
Right, Numbers. Why would any Britannian even notice their absence, and the Japanese weren't about to turn around to ask the government for help. No, they acted like Naoto had and tried to take matters into their own hands with disastrous consequences.
"Who is in charge here?" Lelouch asked.
The researchers flinched, glancing at each other, but remaining silent. They had no incentive to speak, not with their death on the horizon.
"Search them," Lelouch ordered.
A collection of wallets landed on the center table, and Lelouch pulled out the driver's licenses as they watched in horror.
"You worked for Lord Ashford once," Lelouch said absently, recognizing the name from years ago.
"Please," the man begged. "We had no choice!"
"Since when has a lack of choice prevented your actions from having consequences? Log into the computers."
He shivered. "I don't have the administrative password…"
"A shame," Lelouch said. "You have a nephew still working in the Ashford labs, right?"
The man shivered and pointed to the older woman at the end of the line. "She's in charge, please."
Sneering, Lelouch dismissed him. The soldiers pushed him back into the line roughly, while another pair pulled the woman forward as she fruitlessly struggled in their grip. A strong shove sent her stumbling across the floor, landing at Lelouch's feet.
"You're Numbers," she noted. "Terrorists! You can't think you'll get away with this? All of Britannia will—"
His lips quirked. "We're here on the Emperor's orders." Adopting the accent of court, he continued, "He is very interested in what has been happening here."
She squeaked, tremors ransacking her body. Slowly, she rose and attempted to log in. Her hand sent the mouse haphazardly dancing across the screen; it took her multiple times to finally click the right button.
At last, they were in and Lelouch drew a seat. He had no interest exploring their corpse locker or looking too closely at whatever dissection of an arm was happening back there.
Subject: C.C.
The specimen displays remarkable regenerative properties...
Well, fuck.
"Who led the project?" he asked.
After a moment of hesitation, she said, "General Bartley Asprius, sir."
A lie.
Transplants to the local Elevens have so far proved ineffective…Some specimens respond favorably to blood transfusion in treating diseases, but others experience serious side effects, similar to an allergic reaction. No link with blood type or any other biomarker has been established so far...Younger specimens are less likely to experience detrimental side effects as well as temporary improvements to their senses. Further testing should be done on infants and potentially a fetus…
At the image of a pregnant woman clamped to the operating table, Lelouch closed the page. How could anyone be so inhumane?
Now, his hand trembled as he searched for the security feed. The records didn't go back as far as Shinjuku. Of course. The lab would have been moved by then. With dread, he checked the day of the invasion.
Clovis, still recognizable under a thick, brown cloak, entered the lab.
"Fuck!" Lelouch screamed, throwing the computer off the table.
How could his brother be so stupid! Why would he go so far? How could Lelouch ever look him in the eyes again?
"Sir?" a soldier asked hesitantly as Lelouch tried to remember how to breathe.
"Give me a minute," Lelouch pleaded.
Clovis had been fully involved. He had been so desperate for any proof otherwise. Conceivably, he could cover for him and obscure his involvement; Clovis had authorized countless horrors.
"Excuse me?" a researcher interrupted. "I need to feed my mice. They have a hard time finding food because they're blind, you know. Well, you don't know since you just arrived, but they're blind because we dropped some acid—" He frowned. "It really is a shame, but I do have to feed them. It'll mess the data up otherwise and—"
"Frank, shut up," his neighbor hissed.
Lelouch laughed bitterly. Blindness. Of course.
"Sir?"
He knew what his orders were. He was to execute C.C.'s captors. "The subject. She is not here, correct?"
The researchers exchanged nervous glances.
Clearly not. Good.
Lelouch stared down at the cracked screen and knelt by the computer. He pulled out the hard drive and ground it beneath his heel. "Someone get me a magnet. Are there any other copies?"
Now, the researchers had the appropriate expression of horror.
"Kill them," Lelouch ordered as they found the remaining backups.
Fifteen gunshots rang out in the room.
"Sir. The royal guard has been mobilized."
Lelouch shook his head weakly and stepped back. "I need to make a call. Burn it, burn it all."
His boots squeaked as he crossed the bloody floor and stepped outside into darkness. His shoulders shook as smoke wafted through the air. If only he could go back in time and grab his brother by the shoulders and shake some sense into him.
He couldn't understand. Why go this far? Didn't he see what he had done? Who he had turned into? What he was forcing Lelouch to do?
"Sir?" his lieutenant interrupted. The man's eyes burned with concern. "Is there any way I can help you?"
"Make sure there's nothing anyone can find, and get the men back safely. I need—" He inhaled. "I need to make a call."
Clovis had to face the consequences for his unspeakable crime. He had to tell his father so he could dispense the proper justice. When was the last time a royal had been executed for treason?
He stumbled off, waving the lieutenant away and pulling out his phone. Would he be able to avoid attending the execution?
No. That would call too much attention to him. He would have to watch. A hanging would be too humiliating for a royal. Then either a beheading or a firing squad. Or two bullets to the brain, courtesy of his mother.
Throat burning, he wiped his mouth and collapsed against the wall.
The night was so beautiful. The distant clouds burned orange in the fading twilight.
Inhaling, he dialed the number. The words tumbled out of his mouth, the instant the dial tone ended.
"Lelouch," his father interrupted. "Repeat that, slowly."
"Clovis has been working on human experimentation in secret, which resulted in his extermination of the Shinjuku ghetto when the terrorists breached the labs and made off with a capsule. The subject within matches the descriptions of the woman you were looking for."
His father hissed. "Where is she now?"
"I am unaware. She was not at the facility. There are some reports of a woman with a similar description in the Shinjuku ghetto. She may have been caught in the encirclement." Lelouch closed his eyes. "I executed the researchers and destroyed the lab. General Asprius and Clovis must still be arrested."
"My orders stand."
Lelouch jolted, his head hitting the wall. "Clovis should—"
"Regardless of social class, anyone who was involved in keeping her captive is sentenced to death."
"Please," Lelouch whispered, "don't make me—"
"Ensure that anyone else associated with the project is exterminated."
"Father, I can't," Lelouch begged.
Anger seeped into the Emperor's voice. "Soldiers follow orders."
"...Yes, Your Majesty. It will be done as you command."
"Present yourself in Pendragon afterwards."
The line clicked dead. The phone slipped from his grasp and clattered on the sidewalk.
Trembling, Lelouch knelt to retrieve it, his fingers barely able to grasp it. Clovis would die by his hands.
What had Lelouch done to deserve such a punishment? Hadn't he been a dutiful son? Followed his father's orders and brought glory to Britannia? How could his father expect him to kill his own brother?
Why had Clovis been so stupid!
Lelouch bit his lip until the taste of blood flooded his mouth. If only he had the power to resist and control his own destiny. If only he knew what the Emperor—his father, truly felt. If only he could be free of this world.
If only…
The Purple Duck, Tokyo, Area Eleven
In a far too plain suit, Roy entered the upscale restaurant. It was nestled away in a corner of Tokyo, far from the usual quarters where nobility might visit. At the front, the hostess's eyes widened in recognition and she hurried to lead him to the table in the far back corner.
"Roy," his grandmother greeted him warmly as she set aside her cane. "Come here and give me a hug."
He chuckled nervously and allowed her to do as she pleased before taking a seat. "Grandmother—"
She hushed him and ordered a fancy bottle of wine. "Let me enjoy your company for a moment without the dreariness of having a wolf at our backs or your cousin's ridiculous antics."
"I thought grandparents aren't supposed to have a favorite grandchild," Roy joked weakly.
"Bah. We all do. Anyone who claims otherwise is obviously lying or simple. If our family was not at stake, I would bother with the meaningless pleasantries. But no, he would lead the family to ruin and refuses to acknowledge that. If he could willingly step aside, then he would be my favorite grandson."
Leaning back, they allowed the server to pour the wine. She swirled her glass and took a delicate sip before approving.
"Oh don't give me that look," she reprimanded. "You boy bring far too much trouble with you. First ignoring a good old desk job, then Selena, and now this entire kerfuffle with royalty."
Roy's face warmed and he took a hurried gulp.
"Nothing to say for yourself?"
"I'm sorry?"
She snorted. "No, you don't mean that at all. Can't blame you when you're clearly going places. The problem with flying is that it's quite easy to get lost in the storm and end up all alone. You should send more letters to your wife. Selena is quite worried, and who wouldn't be with your commander."
"Did something happen between you and my friend?" Roy asked quietly.
"Friend? That he is not. Don't be so foolish, Roy. You don't threaten to kill your friend's grandmother, when you care about them."
Roy quieted as the server approached and took their order. Leaning across the table, he whispered, "What did you do?"
"He holds your future, so I offered my assistance, or tried to, at least." She sniffed. "He's rather prickly for a commoner brat without allies."
"Don't call him that."
"It is true." Her eyes narrowed. "So you have no problem with him issuing threats against your family?"
"He doesn't do things like that."
"You think I'm lying?"
Roy pushed his wine glass aside and drained his water. "No. I think you said something insulting, and he didn't bother hiding how he feels, especially because he was already annoyed at you for spilling his secrets. I'll talk to him… and—"
"What?"
Sighing, he held her gaze. "And make it clear that you're family."
"I'm your grandmother," she hissed, scandalized.
"Which in case you didn't notice he doesn't have. Family doesn't mean much to him, but he would die for us, even when he really should not."
Her lips pursed, but she thankfully didn't argue. "At least he kept his word. You were among the people the Emperor specifically congratulated for their role in Area Eleven's defense."
"I was?" His hand reached into the pocket and brushed against the letter within.
"Makes my heart race to think you have that much attention on you." The food finally arrived, and she smiled genially at the server, playing up the old woman routine by asking her to cut up the meat. "I know you don't want to catch up, so onto business then?"
"It's not that I don't want to catch up—"
"I know, Roy. I know."
He sagged and idly pushed his food with his fork. "I wanted to accept your offer of assistance. I won't allow you to use Lelouch though. Ask of me what you will, but not him. There are things I know which can be of use. Noble secrets... and that oil production in Venezuela never ceased. In about two weeks, the Emperor will flood the market."
Her eyes glimmered in interest but the scowl didn't fade. "Why do you keep falling on your own sword for that boy?"
Roy swallowed. "I have a duty—"
"Did you become his knight when I wasn't looking or join the royal guard? Then we have much bigger issues to tackle."
"No. Not to him, but the people under my command."
"Numbers." A sliver of distaste leaked into her tone.
"Yes, and commoners." He pulled out the letter and slid it across the table. "I'm going to be in command, Grandmother. I don't know if I will be knighted or not; Lelouch argued against it, but—"
"You'll be a sitting duck for every noble without even a rank as some protection."
"It's a risk I'm willing to take. I have the power of all of Fadiman & Jenkins behind me, or so I hope."
"They say the boy is going to be the viceroy," she said. "How do you know he won't drop you to curry favor with some noble. He has ambitions."
Roy sighed. "I wish."
"You wish?"
"He wants to change Britannia, and I want to support him in that." Roy's voice dropped to a whisper. "It's not enough. We want him on the throne."
"We?" she whispered dangerously.
"We."
"The Emperor favors him already. Have you seen the pictures of how he elevated his sister? He doesn't need your help to get there, and you would be wise to not let him realize that."
"I don't trust the Emperor, not when he is plotting Clovis's death," Roy hissed. "Lelouch won't take the throne unless there is no other option, but he needs it, and I won't let him die because the Emperor finds a new favorite toy. I will be ready, and I am asking that you lend me the support to make sure that can happen."
"You're betting everything on him, against the Emperor!" she whispered fearfully. "Your fate is tied to his but don't throw yourself headfirst into the volcano!"
"I have a division depending on me," Roy answered. "It's not just for Lelouch. We all want this."
"You're insane to think that this can work. Did he talk you into this madness?"
Roy grinned seriously. "He doesn't know."
"You're dead set on killing me with a heart attack." She opened the letter and studied his commission. Her eyebrows rose. "This is unprecedented."
"The Magna Carta was as well."
"Not that, you idiot. And then we fell to Napoleon. At least learn to make a better argument."
"We were crumbling long before Napoleon," Roy countered.
"Is that what your friend taught you?"
Actually, Pablo, which Lelouch had confirmed with far more enthusiasm than was appropriate. Really, could he make his treasonous sentiments any more apparent?
"I meant your commission," his grandmother grumbled. "A commoner born becoming a general of all things will create a storm, even if the Emperor throws you into the noble court as well. You really find the worst of troubles. And now you're tempting fate, thinking you can pull a fast one over His Majesty. He will be putting limits on you, making sure you never step out of place. Have you told Selena?"
His stomach clenched, and he shook his head.
"Bah." His grandmother shook her head. "I will definitely not help you if you don't convince your wife first, you fool."
His phone chimed, and he stared at the code in befuddlement. The palace was under attack?
"Roy?"
He stood. "Sorry, grandmother. There is a situation. I need to go." Two steps away from the table, he spun around and pulled out a pen to scribble a number down. "Call me once you decide. I'll talk to Selena."
Ignoring the glares of contempt, he ran out of the restaurant and into the busy evening street, already dialing another number. "Lieutenant? Is Lelouch with you?"
"No. He ran off, said he had to make a call."
"You let him?"
"Sir. We all needed some space. It wasn't pretty. Your theory that it is a vengeful ghost looks very appealing right now."
"Find him and get him to safety, now!" Roy ordered.
Viceroy Palace, Area Eleven
A certain irony existed in taking public transit to kill the viceroy. It was also ridiculously easy to blend into the masses as an off duty soldier on his way back to the barracks. No one looked at him twice.
Lelouch stared up at the palace, his phone vibrating in his pocket—first Henry, then Frederick, now Roy.
He declined the calls and turned right to the least used servant entrance, reserved for those most trusted. The royal guard on duty was restless and at an unspoken signal retreated into the building. Around him, the crowd murmured in confusion.
Had Clovis realized he had been found out and was making his last final stand?
Lelouch laughed bitterly. His copy of the servant key easily slipped into the keyhole, and he grabbed his gun expectantly.
There should've been a guard on the other side, as per the security procedures he outlined. The post was abandoned.
Sighing, Lelouch returned his gun to the holster and headed down the hallway to the servant quarters. With a stolen pair of nondescript pants and a plain shirt, Lelouch resurfaced in the main hallways.
"Halt!" a guard demanded. He wore a heavy scowl and his steps thundered across the hall as he neared.
"Please," Lelouch begged, eyes widened and with a proper accent. "You have to help. They're going to kill me. Help me hide!"
"Your Highness?" the guard asked, reaching for the radio.
Frantically, Lelouch grabbed his hand and pulled him into the side corridor.
"Your Highness, where is the threat? We must alert the guard."
Which would alert Clovis. Lelouch pressed his gun below the man's ribs. "Strip."
Once the new clothes were neatly folded next to an ornamental vase on the side table, Lelouch fired. The man stared at him in betrayal until his life fled from his eyes. Under the judging gaze of a corpse, Lelouch changed into his new clothes. The uniform was too large around the shoulder, but he didn't need it to pass an inspection, only to pass at a distant glance.
With far too few guards on the way there, Lelouch finally arrived at the throne room and knocked.
"Come in!" Clovis cried and glared at him expectantly from his chair. "Any news?"
Lelouch lifted his eyes. "We need to talk, brother."
Paling, Clovis stumbled out of his throne and absently dismissed the guards. "Lelouch! What happened to you? You look awful. Not to worry, we won't let the those pesky terrorists near you—"
"I found your project," Lelouch whispered.
Clovis froze. "You tripped the alarm."
"Why?" Lelouch begged. "Why would you do that?"
"To change everything," Clovis said giddily. "We were so close to unraveling everything. Can you imagine what we could accomplish? Soldiers who cannot die. The injured, free to walk again. Immortality! Help me, Lelouch, please. Nunnally could see again."
"You've gone mad."
"No. I am enlightened. Brother, the possibilities are endless. I cannot run the project from far away, but you— This is a wonderful opportunity. We could change the world. No more bowing to Father's rules. No more living in fear. We will be the gods of the new world."
"You have been found guilty of treason." Lelouch pushed past the lump in his throat. "By the order of His Majesty, you are sentenced to an immediate execution."
The eager smile on Clovis's face vanished. "Lelouch—Please. I am your brother! We can work something out. I can disappear. Don't you want Nunnally to see again? A month or so more. We nearly had all the data we needed."
"I burnt it all," Lelouch admitted.
"Burnt it?" Clovis asked blankly. "All of it?"
"All of it," Lelouch confirmed. "Is there… Is there anything I can do for you?"
"Why do this?"
"Zero does as he is told." Lelouch shook his head. "I prayed that you wouldn't be involved. But human experimentation? You dissected that woman while she was screaming on the operating table. I saw you, watching from the corner. How could you?"
"You're Zero," he said weakly. With great effort, he bolstered himself once more. "She wasn't even human. What we could learn from her… We could vanquish every disease. She is a treasure trove for the next generation of medicine. We don't have to live in fear anymore. This is our chance to change the game!"
"That doesn't make it right!" Lelouch screamed, tears brimming in his eyes. He couldn't bring himself to draw his gun. "I cannot do that, Clovis. I cannot forget that they're people. They live, they die, they love, they cry. There is no difference between them and us. Nothing that makes them any more or less worthy."
Clovis sneered. "You sound like Euphemia."
"Because she said the truth I am afraid to say," Lelouch spat. "I thought I could save you, but what you did was unforgivable."
Spreading his arms dramatically, Clovis stepped back. "Do not pretend this is not for your benefit, dear brother of mine. We all know you thirst for power, seek to tear us all down. You keep staring at us, plotting and scheming. You get to ride by on Father's favor while the rest of us are struggling."
"Father's favor?" Lelouch snorted. "You couldn't even draft the proper paperwork to cover your trail. You wouldn't have survived Father's favor!"
"Because he is a mad man! He despises every single one of us, you included. The only person he loves is himself." Clovis threw back his head and laughed. "Admit it, brother. You're not here for him. You are here because you want power. Stop it with your self-aggrandizing excuses. This is what you want. A sibling dead at your hand. It is what we all want as we desperately try to hold back."
"This isn't what I want! I begged, but do you think the Emperor listens?"
"Then why are you here?" Clovis snapped, lunging forward. Panicking, Lelouch finally drew his gun. Instead of attacking, Clovis grabbed the barrel of the gun so it lay flush with his skin—pointed at his heart. "Admit it! Kill me and admit that this is what you want. To be the Emperor's little lap dog."
"I want justice!"
"What is that supposed to mean? You should know better. There is no justice. God is dead or took a vacation to fuck knows where. No one is coming for us. No one is going to help. No one can even agree on right and wrong."
"We have to continue." Lelouch leaned forward. "At least try to prevent such endless suffering. People deserve to have a choice."
"To choose is to suffer."
"Not when you have the power to actually do something."
Clovis chuckled. "The truth at last, dear brother. You are so much like Father after all. Maybe that is why he favors you."
Lelouch fired. Once. Twice. Thrice.
The head cracked on the stone floor, bouncing like a child's deflated ball. Blood slowly seeped across the ground, drenching the tips of his shoes. What had he done?
"You actually did it," a dispassionate voice interrupted. The woman from the photo, dressed in the nondescript clothes of a servant, pushed herself languidly off the pillar and approached.
Lelouch tensed. "I apologize. He was your vengeance."
Like a lioness, she circled him slowly. Her face was eerily unsettling. "Prince murders his brother. A tale as old as time."
"I didn't—"
"Now, do not lie to me," she whispered, invading his personal space. Her hand trailed across his face. "Already afraid of me, boy? I haven't even done anything… yet."
Lelouch shook his head. It was so hard to think. The sound of Clovis's head striking marble echoed in his ears. "I cannot help you with your revenge; I can only offer the deaths of those who held you captive. The Emperor has already ordered it. Next is Asprius."
"Bartley has passed on," she said.
There wasn't a hint of a single weapon beneath her tight fitting shirt, yet she had undoubtedly committed the deed. Was Lelouch next? The brother to the man who had tortured her? Torn her apart? How was she even alive?
"The Emperor wants you," Lelouch warned. "I will not tell him you were here. You should go and be free."
Fists pounded on the door.
"Hide," Lelouch ordered, pulling himself upright. His gun felt heavy in his hands. He wanted to drop it, rid himself of the reminder of what he had done.
The royal guard burst into the room, their eyes scanning the room and finally settling on Clovis.
"Clovis has been executed for the crime of high treason," Lelouch said to their shocked and furious faces. His heart fell. Last time, his guards and his father intervened in the standoff with Carine's royal guard. Here, Clovis was already dead. His father would probably order their execution as well to keep any possible leaks of C.C. to himself. "Step aside."
"You killed him," the head guard said. "How—How could you?"
Fifteen machine guns raised, focusing on him.
Leaping to the side, Lelouch bit down a scream as his arm exploded in pain. Clovis's glassy eyes stared at him in accusation. Why should Lelouch live when he died?
Lelouch rolled over to take shelter behind the throne and pulled out his knife. He hacked a strip of fabric off his coat and tied it around the gushing wound in his right arm. His left hand fumbled for his gun and he risked a glance behind the throne.
The guards were spreading out. A gun focused on him, and Lelouch ducked back as bullets tore through the upholstery.
"Come out, Your Highness," the guard yelled. "You know the punishment for killing a member of the royal family is death."
Lelouch's hand shook. He knew, and his father requested him back in Pendragon. He could only hope that he was of enough use that it would be detrimental to the Empire to waste him like this.
Then again, who ordered a son to execute the other?
Maybe, he should disappear. Go to the ground and live.
No. What of his goals? Nothing could be accomplished living like a rat scurrying in the dark. His division would be punished.
And if the guard killed him? They would throw his corpse into the bay, never to be found again, and his father would assume he had gone to ground as well. There were people relying on him; he couldn't die, not while his father lived—not when he hadn't accomplished anything meaningful.
"Captain," Lelouch shouted. "Cease your fire. The Emperor—"
"Would never let a backstabbing commoner cut the line of succession!"
"Clovis committed treason!" Lelouch screamed. "Do you think I wanted to kill him? If you want, I can call the Emperor, and he can confirm it for you."
A hail of bullets was his harrowing answer. All his reach, all his achievements. They ultimately meant nothing.
He shot, listening to the satisfying thump of a body falling to the ground. It meant nothing. He was being flanked.
Strong arms wrapped around him from behind.
"You will all die," Lelouch warned as they disarmed him.
"At least Prince Clovis will have been avenged," the guard said. He grinned viciously. "A prince at our mercy. That is a rare occurrence. But you're not a real prince are you? Will you beg like an Eleven?"
Time. His only friend and most dreadful enemy.
"You can try," Lelouch challenged with a cocky grin.
The strike to his abdomen was expected. It hurt like a bitch regardless.
"Enough." C.C. stepped out from the somber shadows. "Remember me, men?"
They flinched back at the sight of her. The man closest to her stumbled back with a whine. As she approached, the guard holding Lelouch abruptly let go.
"Kill her," a guard screamed.
"Clovis wanted her alive!"
"Can she even fucking die? You saw what she did to Davis last time!"
Her hand dropped onto his shoulder. The horror in the eyes across from Lelouch screamed at him to act. To defend himself. He—He couldn't move.
You appear to have a reason for living. If I grant you power, could you go on?
If he had power, he would be free of the soul crushing despair of his own helplessness. He would be able to shape the world as he saw fit, free from his father's influence. Allow there to be justice. Break the chains of oppression.
I propose a deal. In exchange for this power you must agree to make my one wish come true. Accept this contract and you accept its conditions, while living in the world of humans, you will live unlike any other. A different providence, a different time, a different life. The power of the king will condemn you to a life of solitude.
Are you prepared for this?
A contract? But before him, the men were waking from their stupor, preparing to fire. That would be the end. There was no time to quibble over details. Yet—
Would she ask him to harm his loved ones?
A sense of amusement washed over him. No. You may do as you wish until you are called upon to complete your contract, one simple wish. You will bear the cost alone. Do you accept?
Yes! To have the power to change his own fate at last!
His eyes flashed open as an instinctive knowledge settled within his soul. "Lelouch vi Britannia, commands you, all of you, die!"
"Yes, Your Highness!" With sickening smiles, they turned the weapons on themselves.
Their bodies fell to the ground. Common blood mixing with royals'. He had done that. They had obeyed his command, unable to resist.
Manic laughter bubbled in his chest. This was power. He could change things. No longer would he be forced to act against his will. The power hummed inside him, begging to be used. With it, he needed no army. The lives that could be spared. The questions that could be answered. Oh, he needed to know its limitations, but for now the possibilities stretched before him.
His lips curved into a smile, and he searched the room for the woman to ask her of this power. She had vanished once more. If this was what she could do, no wonder his father and brother both coveted her.
She had suffered unimaginable horror at his family's hand yet given him a boon. He would not pursue her; she deserved that much.
Still, the danger was not over yet. He had to ensure the Emperor would not tie up loose ends.
A terribly wonderful idea came to mind. With this power, he could subjugate even the Emperor.
Instinctively, he recoiled at such a notion. The Emperor couldn't—but Lelouch wasn't defenseless anymore. He had a weapon which would sneak past even the most diligent guards. He would be careful. He didn't have time to discover the limitations of his geass but a simple command shouldn't be that hard.
Simple and innocent enough that afterwards his father wouldn't think his actions were unusual.
Lelouch could use it to secure his life... Nunnally's safety.
Or—Or he could finally ascertain the truth. Did his father care for him at all?
Omake courtesy of StillHere:
As Lelouch receives his Geass and visions of another world and time flash through his mind, he uses his force of will and the divine power of bureaucracy to force the images into submission. Before him stands a blank white infinity with an elaborate mahogany desk and a very confused C.C. He sits at the desk and opens a drawer, pulling out a massive stack of blank paper, an inkwell, and a quill.
C.C.: Stares around You have very quickly become the best and worst contractor I have ever encountered.
Lelouch: I'm not anyone's contractor until we get this in writing.
Author's Note:
At long last. Finally, Clovis is dead and Lelouch has a geass. This calls for a celebration!
The next chapter is somewhat on the short side and normally I would do an early update for that. Unfortunately, I am getting my wisdom teeth extracted tomorrow and will most likely miss out on my writing weekend. So see you in two weeks!
Drop me some reviews so that I can giggle over them while loopy tomorrow. :p
Thank you Dark, Jarod, and Nektry for your beta work.
Chat with me on the discord: discord . gg / uSBegVj