I don't own Code Geass.
…...
Shiso, Hyogo Prefecture, United States of Japan, December 2017
Zero woke up stiff and tired. After being evicted from his own tent, and with no desire to be around anyone at the moment, he had climbed into the cockpit of his custom Burai. He slept no more than an hour between fits and starts of wakefulness, his clothes the only protection he had from the cold. When dawn's light broke over the encampment, he had rubbed his face with a badly shaking hand, his skull aching, whether from stress or lack of sleep, or both, he could not tell.
The return trip to Tokyo was no easy task. It had drizzled lightly during the night, and the cold solidified the rain into a layer of ice that made driving difficult for their armored cars. That was on top of the roads themselves, which were pockmarked with craters and potholes left unfilled between the wars. It had taken a month to fight their way across the country, but there shouldn't be nearly that much of an obstacle on the way back.
As the column advanced down the road at a slow, steady pace, he found himself thinking of C-Two.
All the fight had gone out of her, replaced with a cold misery that was almost worse than the hateful invective she would hurl at him whenever he presented himself. He would have been amused by the way her eyes bulged at the sight of the armored column had they not also been filled by hate, the kind of hate that burns hot at first, then cold, cold, colder than the coldest winter. That worried him, in a detached sort of way. People hot with fury were dangerous for their unpredictability, but he found that it was the cold ones, the patient ones, the ones that hid their hatred behind a sincere smile were the most dangerous. A hothead would come at you with everything he had, and thus could be dispatched quickly. A cold one would wait for the moment to stick the knife in and twist until the opportune moment.
He shook his head, sighing. He tried rubbing some of the tiredness out of his eyes. "The first thing I do when I get home is get a good night's sleep."
He laughed derisively at himself. "Like that's going to happen."
….
Office of General Gene Smilas, Hexagone Balarde, Paris, Sovereign Republic of France
"What happened?" Smilas demanded. He sat at his desk, leaning on his elbows, his fingers laced into a steeple before him.
Leila stiffened at the question. "I assume you read my report?" she asked.
"I have." His eyes behind his meshed hands were cold.
"Then there is not much more I can tell you," she said. "Our insertion and rendezvous with the resistance was accomplished without issue, and we spent the next several days infiltrating the enemy lines. We kept ourselves comfined to what were believed to be active combat zones, but saw no sign of the enemy's new weapon. We did, however, collect a lot of intelligence on the enemy's conventional armaments, as detailed in my report."
Smilas stared at her. Leila fought the urge to squirm under his gaze.
He sat back up. "So, what you're telling me," he said, "is that you did everything right, and everything from your insertion to your infiltration was absolutely perfect?"
Leila flinched. "I wouldn't quite characterize it like that."
"I should certainly hope not. Major, when I sent you to Berga, there was an organized resistance movement in Spain tying down Britannian resources." His glare was ferocious. "And now you return, with nothing to show for your efforts, and the entire resistance wiped out. So I ask again: What. Happened?"
Leila fidgeted. "I don't know," she said. She thought of the beating she had given Akito, one so bad that even the Brits were astonished, and the scene that had made. Did I draw attention to us? "The only conclusion I can come to is that we were betrayed."
"Betrayed?"
"Yes." Leila nodded. "When the collaborators came after us, they knew the locations of their safehouses and meeting points." At least, that's what Tatianna thought. "My only conclusion, then, is that someone sold us out. Who, I don't know, but someone got richly rewarded."
Smilas' mouth twitched. He ran a hand across his upper lip, deep in thought. He shook his head, and sighed. "I suppose that's the best I'm going to get," he said. "You're relieved of your duties for the next sixteen days."
Leila was aghast. "General, I swear to you, I can-"
"Calm down, Major, I'm not removing you from command," Smilas interjected. "I could, but I won't. You're too capable an officer, and I need good officers. A couple of weeks away will do you some good."
"But-"
"It will also give the Committee some time to cool down," he added over her. "You have no idea how close you are to a court martial."
Leila's mouth dried out. "C-Court martial?"
"Leila, your mission was a calamitous disaster," Smilas said. "The Spanish resistance is dead, many of our agents within both the government and the military have gone silent, and we lost our best spy in Barcelona getting you out." He looked away from her, seemingly embarrassed. "And then there's the matter of your birth."
"My birth?" Leila asked, her fists clenching. She knew exactly where this was going. "My parents were good Frenchmen. They forswore all oaths to Britannia. They gave their lives to the European Project."
"But they were still Britannian nobility," Smilas retorted gently. "That will always be a stain on your record."
Leila ground her teeth.
Smilas stood up and walked around his desk, coming to stand before her. He placed his hands on her shoulders, clasping them gently.
"You know I don't believe that," he said. "I admired your father greatly. His and your mother's assassination was a tragedy. The world is lesser without them." His eyes narrowed. "But those fools in the Assembly don't see it the same way. To their republican sensibilities, he will be forever the progeny of monarchism. As his daughter, so are you."
Leila ducked her head, hiding how wet her eyes were. "I will just have to prove them wrong," said.
"I doubt that will ever happen." He squeezed her shoulders. "Rest, Leila. Let these fools scream and bicker until cooler heads prevail. And never forget this." He tilted her chin up to look at him. "I will always protect you."
Hesitantly, Leila nodded. "Thank you, sir."
He smiled slightly. "When we're in private like this, just 'Gene' will do."
That seemed a little overly familiar to her, but considering their long friendship, and the fact he was the only thing standing between her and a court martial, he had more than earned the right.
"Okay, Gene."
"Good. You're dismissed."
Leila stepped back and saluted. As she walked out the door, Smilas asked her, "Incidentally, what happened to your cheek?"
Leila fingered the large bandage over the bruise where Ayano had punched her. "Just got it in the line of duty," she answered, and departed.
…..
Throne Room, Imperial Palace, Shanghai, Chinese Federation
"Your Majesty," Vice Commander Gu said from his kneeling position, "it is my honor to report to you that Hunan is fully secured."
That was a foregone conclusion, the Tianzi thought, subduing a happy smile.
The Vietnamese army had been destroyed at the Battle of Hengyang, after having been enveloped by Xingke's forces. From there, Xingke reported that he was moving his troops to fortify the river crossings and mountain passes. As the former capitol province of the Communists, he was certain they would attempt to take it back, thereby hurling men and resources at an impregnable fortress. He estimated that offensive would come sometime next year, when their fighting strength was restored and the Nationalists exhausted.
"This news is received gladly, General," the Tianzi said aloud. "You will convey our compliments to Commander Xingke and General Xianglin. They have the thanks of a grateful nation."
"It shall be done, Your Majesty."
"What of the situation in the north?"
"Our lines remain unchanged," he answered. "The Eunuchs have expended much of their fighting strength for no gain. Many bodies have been piled before our fortifications, buried only by the falling snow.
"The Nationalists and the Communists continue to batter each other to a standstill," he continued. "We have reaped precious grain by their harvest."
How many of my people were sifted into chaff? How many thousands have already died in just two months of fighting?
"Good," she said. "Very good. The Heavens smile upon us." She nodded, and he backed into the crowd of courtiers.
Now comes the difficult part.
The herald announced Lord Gong of Jiangxi, a skinny man in his early fifties wearing rich purple robes.
He knelt before her throne. "Your Majesty," he said, "while the victories we have achieved in the war with the rebels are to be celebrated, matters on the domestic front are still perilous. The devastation from the war has caused the destruction of much of our public infrastructure. With roads destroyed, it is difficult to transport goods and services to the markets. Additionally, a lack of Sakuradite is hamstringing our efforts to begin rebuilding."
"What is your desire?" the Tianzi asked, already tiring of the performance.
The details of Lord Gong's forthcoming proposal had already been hashed out behind the scenes, the paperwork only awaiting her Royal Seal. This was all stagecraft, for a public uncertain of the future and torn apart by the conflict. They needed to know that their leaders had nothing but their best interests at heart. It was why there were reporters with video cameras in the background, carrying her court live.
The idea had come through Kaguya, from a Black Knight by the name of Diethard Reid, one of the chief propagandists in Zero's administration.
"Please, Your Majesty," Lord Gong said, "put a brief pause on the war for the rest of winter, that we may purchase new Sakuradite to be used in rebuilding the lives of those we have liberated from the rebels' oppression."
The Empress made a show of closing her eyes as if deep in thought.
Xingke's armies were going to stop advancing anyway; they were at the limits of their Sakuradite, and they were exhausted. They would need time to rest before going back on the offensive, and they would need to replenish their stockpiles. There just wasn't enough Sakuradite to go around, even if they bankrupted China in Russian bank accounts.
The Empress opened her eyes. "We approve of this course of action," she announced dramatically. "Our people have fought hard, and weathered much, but they must rest. Let this winter be a time of rebuilding, that China may be renewed in the spring."
"Thank you, Your Majesty!" Lord Gong said, touching his forehead to the floor.
"Let Court now be adjourned," she announced.
She rose and descended the dais regally, surrounded by her ladies in waiting and guards, the Lady Sumeragi by her side.
As they left the throne room, she asked her friend, in hushed tones, "What do you think of the Eunuchs' chances?"
"I think they shall not last five months," the Lady replied just as quietly. "They have wasted millions of lives in human wave attacks with nothing to show for it. If they continue in this vein, or they face defeat on other fronts, the people will overthrow them."
"Then we shall be reinstalled over northern China?"
"That, I did not say. They could simply be replaced with someone else. Someone, perhaps, more competent than the current crop of leaders."
"And your suggestion?"
"Your Majesty already has loyalists within the Eunuchs' territory. What they lack is guidance. I recommend we send agents provocateur to help establish a resistance network."
"I do not believe we have the resources to send weapons."
"Of course we do, if we send the right type."
"The right type?"
The Lady nodded. "The ball and powder are important, but they are not the only weapons in our arsenal. At times, the pen can be mightier than the sword."
They arrived at the Tianzi's chambers. The Empress dismissed her ladies to wait outside while she continued her conversation with the Lady Sumeragi.
"Explain what you mean," she commanded.
"My Lord Zero has been sending propaganda leaflets into the traitor Tohdoh's territory," the Lady Sumeragi explicated, a slight blush on her cheeks as she spoke. "As a result, a surge of defections have been seen from the traitor's camp. Many former rebels have crossed the trenches to receive succor and forgiveness at my Master's feet. We should do the same here.
"Send forth agents skilled in disguise and communication, and allow them to begin swaying the people toward your regime. Their natural state is as loyal subjects of the Throne of Heaven. In their time of despair, let them be reminded of their ancient obligations and loyalties. That way, when the Eunuchs do come crashing down, we shall have a population of loyal subjects demanding the return of their rightful Empress."
The portrait that the Lady Sumeragi painted was a beautiful one. She could already see it in her mind's eye: millions upon millions of kneeling subject welcoming her back to Beijing, where her throne awaited; instilling peace once more over the Middle Kingdom.
She smiled excitedly. "We shall bring it up at the next council," she promised.
The Lady bowed. "A wise decision, My Empress," she said. She rose up, gesturing with her hand to a door towards the back. "Would you join me in the garden, My Empress?"
The Tianzi smiled. "I would like nothing more."
She followed her friend outside, through a short hallway that lead to a garden in the Palace's east wing. It was not as great a garden as graced the Forbidden City, but the Empress enjoyed the more personable nature created by the decrease in size. Under the afternoon sun, the snow gleamed almost blindingly white, covering in totality the bushes, statues, and fountains that graced the garden.
Her shoulders sagged slightly, a great weariness overtaking her.
"Are you alright, Jiang?" the Lady Sumeragi asked.
She shook her head. "You know not to call me that, My Lady," she reproved her.
"It is your name, my friend, what else am I to call you?"
"Your Tianzi, the Will of Heaven given form."
The Lady giggled. "You are a girl of twelve, Jiang. You haven't even had your first crush."
"A child I may be, but I carry the hopes and dreams of my people upon my back."
The Empress gestured to the icy blanket before them. "Like all China, I too am covered by this snow. This white shroud of responsibility." She bowed her head. "Great and weighty choices are placed before me, and my word carries consequences far beyond the initial decision."
The Lady snorted. "You sound like an old book, Jiang," she said. "Have you been reading Romance of the Three Kingdoms again?"
"Do not make light of my duty, Lady," the Empress warned, clenching the hem of her robes. Under her severe stare, the Lady composed herself. She returned her attention to the snow, a worried frown on her face. "Can I truly know-" she murmured, "whether I'm doing the right- EEEK!"
She jumped near out of her skin as something icy cold dripped down her back. She hopped around, knocking what felt like ice loose from her robes. Blushing red with exertion, she turned around to find the Lady Sumeragi laughing uproariously, her hand dripping wet.
"You should see your face, Jiang!" she said, pointing at her.
"Y-You!"
She picked up a handful of snow and chucked it at Kaguya, who's laughter turned to surprised splutters when the snow struck her face. The two girls looked at one another, for a moment, then immediately crouched down, filling their hands with snow.
Snowballs flew back and forth, striking intermittently with every throw.
"Oh, damn!" Kaguya cursed when her hand came away with naught but grass.
"Kaaa~guuuuu~yaaaa," Jiang said, holding up a pair of snowballs, a dangerous smile on her face.
Kaguya flinched back, her mouth twitching. "Oh, crud!" She whipped around and began running.
"Get back here!" Jiang shouted, tossing one snowball after another as she chased her. "Take your lumps like a man!"
"Oh, Lord Zero, help me!" Kaguya cried out, her arms and legs pumping.
A wide smile spread over the Empress' face. For a little while, she forgot that she was the Empress of a divided empire, and just let herself be Jiang Lihua, a twelve year old girl without a care in the world.
….
Kofu, Yamanashi Prefecture, United States of Japan
The column came to a stop towards the end of the day, when the setting sun turned the snowy landscape blood red. They were still some six hours outside of Tokyo, and Lelouch saw no reason to push the men to get them home. The major fighting wouldn't start until the spring thaw, at which point they would have enough Sakuradite stockpiled for the advance north.
After Kallen parked the Guren in the maintenance area, she grabbed a couple of bento boxes her mother had made her, and set out for Lelouch's tent. Under ordinary circumstances, she could scarf down both boxes on her own, as her mother likely intended; but, tonight was different. She felt lighter, somehow, as if some great weight had lifted from her chest. A warm smile seemed to be permanently stitched on her face.
She didn't understand why that was, but she also didn't really care. She hadn't felt this light, this carefree, this happy in months, and she wanted to share it tonight.
She gave a nod to the two guards standing out side of Lelouch's tent, and stepped inside. "Colonel, would you-"
She froze. C-Two lay on Lelouch's cot, lazily sipping a metal cup that Kallen knew was from Lelouch's cutlery set, a book open before her.
"Where's the Colonel?" Kallen asked, her previously good mood gone.
C-Two didn't answer.
"Hey!" Kallen said. "I asked you a question! Where's the Colonel?"
C-Two looked up at her disinterestedly, then looked back down at her book and flipped the page. "I neither know, nor care," she said. "I haven't seen him all day."
"This is his tent."
"Not anymore."
"Excuse me?"
"I won't have some filthy monarchist sleeping near me," C-Two said. She took another sip of whatever she was drinking.
"You won't have- this isn't your tent!" Kallen said, scowling. "Pull this crap if you want in your own quarters! He has enough on his mind as it is!"
C-Two looked back up at her, her stare searching. Kallen found herself shuffling her feet.
"I see," she said. She looked back down at her book. "If you wish to lay with him, do so."
Kallen's face burned red. "Wh-What?" she spluttered, clasping her hand over her chest.
"You're in love with him," C-Two said, languidly turning a page. "Why, I don't know." She waved a hand. "Have at him."
"We're not-" Kallen closed her eyes against the sudden embarrassment and pain. "But," she said, "but aren't you two...?"
"Whatever liaison he had with..." She placed a finger to her lips, the expression on her face becoming vaguely interested. She shrugged. "Whoever the woman of this era was, I am not her, and therefore, not bound by any agreement they had." She lay back on the cot, holding up the book. Kallen, through her embarrassment, read the title: Imperial Manual Upon the Use and Tactics of Knightmare Frames. "Do with him what you will."
Kallen stormed over to her and snatched the manual out of her hands. "He loves you!" she blurted out. "He's spent months looking for you! It was killing him not knowing what happened to you!" She grabbed C-Two by the front of her black jacket, wrenching her up to Kallen's face. "Are you really saying you don't feel anything?"
The girl's eyes were cold as ice. "Not. One. Bit," she said. "Now let me go, or the pitiful mess that soldier became will be a trifle compared to what I will do to you."
Kallen's hand opened in an instant, a flash of fear rushing through her.
C-Two, or whoever the Hell this girl was, picked the Knightmare manual off of the floor. She laid back down on the bed, calmly picking up where she left off.
"You may leave," she said.
Kallen bristled. She was tempted to beat the shit out of the bitch, magic powers be damned, but C-Two wasn't important anymore.
Lelouch? Where is he? If he isn't sleeping in his tent, then where?
She left the tent in a hurry.
The first place she tried was the commissary tent, but after calling out "Colonel Spacer!" for a minute without reply, she tried the ammunition depot. Here, too, she was out of luck, but the sergeant in charge told her he had seen the Colonel heading towards his personal Knightmare.
"Why the Hell is he going there?" she asked the sergeant.
The sergeant, a young man with close cropped black hair with a green streak dyed into it, shrugged. "Beats me, Major," he said. "He didn't look too happy, though."
"What do you mean?"
"He looked miserable, like he'd jump off a bridge if he came across it." He smirked. "No great loss."
Kallen narrowed her eyes, hot fury descending on her. "I hear you say that again, I'll gut you where you stand."
The sergeant jumped back. "Jeez, Major, what's your problem?"
"Is it because he's Britannian?" Kallen demanded. "I've heard enough of that racist bullshit over the course of this campaign."
"My girlfriend's Britannian, Major!" the sergeant said, holding up his hands.
"Then what's your problem, Sergeant?"
He glared back at her sharply. "That bastard shot Lady C-Two," he said, his backbone stiffening. "That she's still alive, by some miracle, isn't the point. I hope Lord Zero hangs him when we get back."
Kallen restrained the laughter that threatened to spill out. "I wouldn't count on it," she said. She jerked her head to the ammo dump. "Just get back to work."
The sergeant saluted. "Yes, ma'am!"
Kallen left, her composed posture belying the worry that was rising up in her.
Zero was a hero to the Black Knights, the Liberator of their homeland, the champion of the dispossessed. Alan Spacer, by contrast, was almost uniformly disliked, whether it be because he was Britannian, or his ruthlessness, or some combination thereof. Now, she could add "He shot Zero's woman!" into the seditious pot that was boiling all around her. The fact that Zero and Alan Spacer were the same person would be funny, were it not for the fact they were already fighting a civil war. If the level of disdain for Spacer continued to rise, she was worried something bad might very well happen to Lelouch.
"I have to tell him about this," she said as she neared his Knightmare. "This is getting dangerous."
She fingered the bento boxes in her hands. I had hoped our conversation would be a bit lighter than this.
"Colonel!" she called out from the base of his Burai. "Are you there?"
There was no response. "Colonel! It's Major Kozuki! I need to talk with you!"
The only sound was the hustle and bustle of the camp.
Just as Kallen was about to go search elsewhere, she heard Lelouch shout, "What do you need, Major?"
Kallen sighed with relief. "There's something I need to discuss with you. Mind if I come up?"
"Go right ahead."
She set the bento boxes on the ground beside her and hoisted herself up, traversing the short climb to the open cockpit with ease.
"Colonel, would you like to-" Her question ended in a strangled choke.
Lelouch's hair was greasy, much like her own, plastered to his face like a head on a mop. His violet eye was bloodshot, and there were shadows beneath his eyes that his scarf had been obscuring. He sat back in his seat, bundled up in his coat.
"What did you want to talk about, Major?" he asked blithely.
Her mouth opened and shut soundlessly.
He sighed with annoyance. "If it's nothing important, I'd like to go back to sleep," he said.
Kallen found her voice. "Sleep?" she said incredulously. "You're sleeping in here?"
He shut his eye. "I don't really have anywhere else," he said. "I'm in the doghouse with C-Two, who I am reasonably certain would cut my throat if I tried to sleep in there. I'm not very popular with the men, so I doubt I'll be able to bunk with them without ordering it. That would do wonders for my popularity. So, here I am."
"Couldn't you just bunk with Tamaki?" she asked.
He raised an eyebrow. "Would you bunk with Tamaki?"
She shuffled. "Fair point," she admitted. "Look, can't the two of you just sort something out?"
"I'm open to suggestions."
She sat on the edge of the cockpit, rested her head against the frame. "You know," she began, trying to lighten the mood, "in the fairy tales you Britannians like so much, the prince always woke the princess with true love's first kiss." She shrugged. "You could always try that."
Lelouch was silent. When she glanced over at him, she was surprised to see him deep in thought.
"That's not a bad idea," he said. "It certainly has precedent."
Kallen blinked. "It does?" she asked.
Lelouch coughed. "Never mind," he said. "It's something to try in the morning." He rucked up his coat. "Now, I'm going to try to get some sleep."
Kallen rolled her eyes. "Lelouch for the love of..." She rubbed her brow. "Look, just bunk with me, alright?"
He shot her a look. "You know our sleeping arrangements aren't coed, Kallen," he retorted.
"I'm the only person in my rather spacious tent," she countered, "and I'm your bodyguard. I'm not going to just leave you up here to break your neck when you come crawling down."
"I'm not going to break my neck!" Lelouch protested.
Kallen sighed. "Lelouch, you need to sleep," she said. "You're no good, to yourself or anyone else, if you're walking around with twenty minutes of shuteye and a bad back." She knocked on the metal frame. "Not to mention this thing is freezing!"
Lelouch looked away from her. "You know it's not a good idea, Kallen," he replied quietly. "And you know why."
She flushed, swallowed.
Things had been become far too heated between the two over the course of the offensive. Whatever the circumstances were, Lelouch already had a partner; he'd already chosen someone else.
"You don't have to worry about that," she said. "We're both adults, Lelouch. We're more than capable of respecting one another's boundaries. And your need for proper rest goes far beyond stupid hormones."
Lelouch sighed. He pinched the bridge of his nose, massaged his temples.
"Fine," he agreed. "You're right. I do need some proper sleep."
Kallen smiled. "Good. Now come on." She raised the two bento boxes she had brought with her. "My mom made these, and I have no intention of eating them on my own."
And there are important things that we need to talk about over dinner.
…
Madrid, Unincorporated Area 24
Madrid is beautiful, Suzaku decided.
The snow that covered the sidewalks and green lawns was flat and level, giving it an almost paved look. He felt a little guilty for crunching his way through, disturbing the delicate equilibrium and leaving behind a large bootprint. It was warmer than he had expected, the light of the morning sun shining down upon him, so that he only had to wear a blue coat over his blue jeans and green turtleneck. For once, the mask he wore he wasn't out of place, and he blended in with the crowd of shoppers and restaurateurs as they wandered the busy streets.
At least, he might have, if he didn't have Cecile hanging off his arm. The older woman wore a red coat that she left unzipped at the top, revealing the swell of her ample bosom above the lacy burgundy decollete she wore underneath. A blue scarf was wrapped loosely around her throat, though that didn't cover the small sapphire studded black band she wore around her neck. Her blue slacks were form fitting, hugging the curves of her hips and legs. To top it off, she wore a pleased smile beneath the cold-inducing blush that colored her cheeks. She was drawing the attention of men and women wherever she went; by proxy, so was he.
He had seen more than a few dirty looks thrown his way, though whether it was because he was Cecile's escort or due to the color of his skin, he wasn't sure. He was reasonably certain his mask would hide his ethnicity, but considering the amount of Elevens he had seen acting as manual labor, he wouldn't be surprised if people had grown used to the general appearance of an Eleven to mark him out as one. Not that it mattered; if someone wanted to give him trouble over his heritage, he was more than prepared for it.
"Oh, Suzaku, let's stop in here!" Cecile said, gesturing to a trinkets shop.
"Sure."
He let go of her long enough to open the door for her, her arm linking back with his when the door shut behind them. It was toasty inside, so he and Cecile unzipped their coats and let them hang open. His height and position gave him the opportunity to look down the front of her shirt, an opportunity he struggled not to take advantage of.
The interior of the shop was lined with rows upon rows of shelves filled with all sorts of knick knacks: snow men and ice monsters; Santas with present bags, Santas on sleighs, Santas down chimneys- "There's way too many Santas in here," Suzaku whispered, and Cecile giggled her agreement- Santas with soda bottles, Santas in all shapes and varieties, so long as they were fat and red.
"Well, we are only a few days from Christmas," Cecile reminded him, resting her head on his shoulder.
The faintest scent of jasmine filled Suzaku's nostrils, sweet and soothing. His eyes widened. How did I not notice? he thought sheepishly. My nose must have been numb to not have smelled that!
"You smell nice," he said without thinking. His throat tightened. What is wrong with me!
Cecile looked up at him, her face flushed. "Thank you," she said, her white teeth showing as she smiled. "You're not so bad yourself."
Suzaku coughed, glad for the mask that hid his red face.
They walked down another aisle further to the back. Suzaku cocked an eyebrow, surprised. He lifted a figurine, this one in the shape of the Spanish King James I, one of the principal heroes of the Reconquista against the Moors. It was only one of hundreds of figurines and flags depicting Spain's great heroes. There were silverware sets as well, depicting the Spanish national flag proudly in the centerpiece.
"You couldn't find anything like this in Area Eleven," he said to Cecile.
"That's because Spain came into the Empire under different circumstances," she replied, somewhat uncomfortably. "Area Eleven was taken by force of arms. Spain, on the other hand, negotiated its colonization by the Empire. The Empire is willing to allow Spain to retain its national pride and heritage so long as its people don't object to its reorganization as Area Twenty-Four."
"I see," Suzaku said quietly. "So the Spanish chose the smart option, rather than throw away the lives of their people in a hopeless cause."
"The Italians did the same," Cecile said, "though their conditions also specified that the Empire assume their debts."
Why can't everyone else just do the same? How many more lives will have to be lost fighting a futile battle?
He looked down at the figurine again. Isn't submission just the better option? Aren't the Spanish already proving you can make things better within the system than fighting it?
He set the figurine back on the shelf. "So," he said, dragging himself out of his thoughts, "see anything you like?"
"Yes," she said softly.
He gestured. "Well, grab whatever you like."
She squeezed him tighter in response, her fingers lacing with his.
"Cecile?" he asked.
After a moment, she reached out to the table, picking up a double statuette of Ferdinand II and Isabella I, the monarchs who sent Columbus on his voyage across the ocean blue.
"This one," she said, holding it up to him. "This one is perfect."
"Then that's what we'll grab."
Suzaku bought it for her, and the clerk boxed it up and bagged it for them, though he gave them both the stink eye the whole time. He gave it to them silently, not even asking them to come again.
"Looks like not everyone's happy about their arrangement," Cecile said after they left.
Suzaku shrugged. "They'll come around in time," he said, Cecile's bag under his arm.
When the rest of Europe was crushed, and their peoples placed under the same harsh restrictions as the other Areas had been, they would see that their leaders made the right decision.
…
Conference Room, Grand Ducal Palace, Madrid, Unincorporated Area 24
"Announcing His Excellency Augusta Henry Highland, Duke of Velaines."
Jeremiah bowed with the rest of the men in the room, tracking the Grand Duke as he entered. He was a man in his early thirties, with stylishly ruffled dark gray hair and blue eyes, a strong jaw, and a well trimmed beard separate from his mustache. He wore a long white robe with gold trimmings and epaulets that covered his clothing beneath.
Flanking him were the four Grand Masters of the Euro Britannia Expeditionary Force's Chivalric Orders. To his left was Sir Manfredi, of the Holy Order of Michael; to his right was Sir Andrea Farnese of the Holy Order of Raphael; behind him was Sir Gaudefroy du Villon of the Holy Order of Gabriel; and next to Villon was Sir Raymond du Saint-Gilles of the Holy Order of Uriel.
The Grand Duke took his seat at the head of the room's long table, allowing the rest of them to sit as well. By virtue of his position in the room, Jeremiah sat down next to Sir du Villon.
"Before we begin this meeting," the Grand Duke began, "let us welcome our new comrades and friends from the Homeland." He gestured to Jeremiah. "Margrave Jeremiah Gottwald, Commander of the Britannian Expeditionary Force in Europe, will be working very closely with us to ensure His Majesty's reclamation of the Lost Realms is completed successfully. You are very welcome here, My Lord."
Jeremiah bowed his head to the polite applause. "I thank you, Grand Duke, and you as well, My Lords, for your warm welcome," he said. "I look forward to working with you, for the glory of Britannia and His Royal Majesty."
"Well said!" du Villon praised, smacking Jeremiah hard on the back. Jeremiah fought hard not to grimace; the man's blows were powerful.
"Quite." Grand Duke Velains gave a small smile. "Now then, Sir Manfredi," he said, turning to the man in question, "what news do you have to share with us? I hear you have had quite the rat hunt."
"Indeed, My Lord," Manfredi replied. "I am pleased to report that the resistance out of Zaragosa has been completely crushed. We rounded up more than a hundred insurgents, and under questioning, they gave us the names and locations of all their comrades and benefactors in the Area. With Zaragosa crushed, the Empire's rule over the Area is absolute."
"Well done, Sir Manfredi," Sir Farnese said, a respectful smile on his face.
"Well done, indeed," Velains added. "For your work, I should offer you a boon. What would you have of me, My Lord?"
Manfredi bowed. "If it is to your will, I would have the Holy Order of Michael act as the vanguard for the invasion of France," he said.
du Villon barked a laugh. "Clever man," he said approvingly. "Taking the most glorious position for yourself!"
"To the victor go the spoils," Sir Farnese put in, smiling.
The Grand Duke coughed. "Much as I would like to give you such a boon," he said, sounding somewhat embarrassed, "I'm afraid the Emperor has already selected who will be the vanguard for the offensive." He gestured to Jeremiah. "Margrave Gottwald has already been give command of the forces that will launch the invasion. You will need his authorization, not mine."
The heads in the room turned to Jeremiah, who accepted their attention with poise. "It would be my honor to have Sir Manfredi and his Knights under my command," he said easily. "Those in Britannia have heard much of your valorous deeds. I can think of no finer tip for our spear."
du Villon clapped his shoulder. "You and me are gonna get along great!"
"You have a truly knightly countenance, My Lord," Sir Andrea said.
Manfredi accepted Gottwald's offer gracefully, tipping his head. "It will be an honor and a privilege."
The noblemen around them banged the table with their approval.
The Grand Duke held up a hand, silencing them. "My congratulations to you, Sir Manfredi," he said. Manfredi bowed his head. Velains turned to du Villon. "Unfortunately, there are some more somber matters to attend to. Sir du Villon, if you will?"
The big knight sobered. "Yes, My Lord," he said. "That madwoman's rampage appears to have been a diversion. Agents of the EU managed to escape by boat from the port of Barcelona, covered by a low-level fighter screen that managed to fly under radar range. Five Coast Guard ships were sunk with all hands, and three more were badly damaged by enemy fire. We scrambled our own fighters to intercept, but the SAM batteries in the Pyrenees were able to ward our planes off. Our casualty report stands at thirty-five dead and fifty wounded. Also," he added, "eight civilians were killed and fifteen wounded in the running gun battle that took place near the docks."
Velians nodded. "Double your patrols in the city," he ordered. "I won't have the local population getting ideas. Have news reports emphasize the high loss of life and civilian casualties."
"Yes, My Lord."
"Sir Andrea," the Grand Duke said, "what news out of Madrid? How goes your hunt?"
"Poorly, I'm afraid," the blonde man answered. "All of the suspected hideouts and safehouses had already been evacuated." He gestured to one of the guardsmen behind him. The man stepped forward and presented a manila envelope. "All that was found was this."
He pulled out a stack of photographs, passing them around the table. Jeremiah looked down at his.
The picture was of a white wall with a red emblem on it: a red harp with a wolf's head on the top left. Underneath it were the words: Better Luck Next Time.
"Peace Mark," Sir Raymond grumbled, speaking for the first time. "I was concerned this would be the case."
Peace Mark was an international terrorist organization formed some five years ago. Its purpose was simple and direct: the overthrow of the Holy Britannian Empire across the world. To further that end, they worked with terrorist organizations across the planet, and it was even rumored that they'd had ties to the Kyoto Group in Japan.
"So they're active here, as well," Sir Manfredi said, frowning deeply.
"What of it?" du Villon demanded, laughing. "Their involvement doesn't change a thing!"
"Tell that to the police station they bombed in Rome," Sir Raymond said. "They would have hit the Governor's Palace as well, had we not caught them in time."
du Villon snorted. "Wizard's just a freak in a mask," he said dismissively.
"A freak in a mask currently rules over Area Eleven," Jeremiah said lightly. "There may be something to this secret identity fetish."
du Villon laughed. "Does that mean you'll be putting on a mask of your own, Lord Jeremiah?"
"Who's to say I'm not already?" Jeremiah returned.
"Will you be giving yourself some dramatic codename?" Sir Manfredi asked, smirking amusedly.
Jeremiah smiled slyly. "I think 'Orange' will do."
"'Orange?'" du Villon laughed uproariously. "That's a terrible name! What's your sidekick's name, 'Juice?'"
Jeremiah laughed along with him.
"If we could all get back on track," Sir Raymond said, "this is a serious issue. Terrorists are striking at the very centers of our power. To allow this to continue will only serve to undermine our hegemonic status."
"A few terrorist attacks won't overthrow our rule," du Villon said.
"No," Sir Raymond allowed, "but they may incite the people to reclaim their homeland, should we prove unable to stop them."
"These are not their homelands," Sir Manfredi interrupted him. "These lands belonged to our forefathers. The Revolutionaries stole our land and gave it to their lackeys."
"Just so," Sir Raymond agreed. "That is certainly the natural state of things. Of course we are only reclaiming our birthright. I shall clarify: to them, these are their homelands. Nationalism was already on the rise in Europe. Apathy towards the European Project, and antipathy for one another, is the reason peeling off Spain and Italy was so simple."
"Hardly simple," Sir Andrea objected. "His Majesty engaged in months of diplomatic overtures to bring the Europeans over."
"Only to be expected for a proud people," the Grand Duke said. "Sir Raymond, I share your concerns about Peace Mark, but I'm afraid that the best we can do is step up our counterinsurgency operations."
"We could invite the Glinda Knights," Sir Manfredi suggested. "I'm certain Princess Marrybell would be able to improve upon our efforts."
"The last I heard, she was operating in Tunisia," Jeremiah said. "The whole of Africa is a nightmare of insurgency. I'm not sure she would respond to a request in the affirmative."
Sir Raymond waved his hand. "Bah! Sir Bradley is already stationed in the Area. Princess Marrybell's presence is overkill." Sending Bradley was overkill, Jeremiah thought. "She will not refuse a request from a Grand Duke, certainly not when the main fighting shall soon be in Europe."
Velains cupped his chin for a moment. "I will issue the request," he said. He tapped the table. "We're spread too thin," he murmured loud enough for them to hear. "I fear we may be taking on too many enemies at once."
"All the more glorious when we crush the lot of them!" du Villon said.
They all nodded in agreement.
….
Kofu, Yamanashi Prefecture, United States of Japan
He woke up slowly. The light of the sun gleamed thinly through the shallow crack in the tent flap, falling on his lone visible eye. He closed his eye, basking in the warmth that clung to him like a balm.
Before he could go back to sleep, a voice called in, "Major Kozuki, it's time to wake. We should be ready to move in an hour."
He blinked his eyes open, staring confusedly at the crack in the flap. There was a hand in it now, though the soldier outside seemed too courteous to barge into the tent.
"Major Kozuki?" the soldier called.
"Yeah," a muffled voice said. "Just give me a minute."
"Yes, ma'am." The tent flap shut back.
Despite her statement, Kallen made no attempt to get up, choosing instead to burrow deeper into her covers. He felt something tighten around his waist, and looked down. Kallen's slim, yet muscular arm lay across his waist, curling around almost to his belly.
Alarm bells went off in his head, but they were muted, dull, as if coming from a great distance, and he had neither the energy nor the inclination to listen. He was tempted to lay his head back down and go back to sleep, but the soldier's words worried at him like a dog at his pant leg. There was no more time to sleep. Work needed to be done.
"Kallen," Zero said. "Kallen, we need to get up. It's time to go."
"Five more minutes, Lulu," Kallen mumbled sleepily.
Zero turned a little bit, his eyebrow cocked. "Lulu?" he said. When she didn't respond, he said, "Kallen, it's time to get moving. We've slept late enough as is."
"Then you get up," she retorted.
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because you're hugging me."
Kallen's arm snapped off of him like she'd been burned. She sat up, saying, "S-Sorry!"
"It's fine," Zero said, sitting up as well. He didn't look at her, too busy rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He felt uncomfortably bereft.
He climbed to his feet, stretching as he stood, his bones popping audibly with the effort. He patted himself down, grabbed his boots, and pulled them on. He glanced over at Kallen, who was still sitting down in her sleeping bag, the cover pulled up to her chest, her cheeks slightly pink.
"We should be back in Tokyo by ten tonight, tomorrow morning at the latest," he said. "If we have to stay out another night, is it alright if I stay with you again?"
Her answering smile was shy, and impossibly bright. "Of course," she said. "My door's always open."
"Thanks." He stepped out side of the tent.
There were a few nasty looks sent his way as he emerged into the daylight. Perfunctory salutes greeted him as he approached his own tent, the reluctance clear on their faces. He frowned behind his scarf.
What Kallen had told him was troubling. He had known that Alan Spacer was unpopular, but he hadn't thought it was this bad.
How blind, how stupid could he have been to not notice the rising anger around him?
Have I just been blocking it out? he wondered.
This level of resentment was dangerous, and needed to be nipped in the bud. The problem was, he had no idea how. It wasn't like he could just snap on his helmet and let everyone know he was Zero. The whole point of taking on the identity of Alan Spacer was to allow him to move independent of the mantle of Zero, and to keep Tohdoh pinned in the north with the false assumption he'd still be dealing with him.
Maybe some time away from the identity will do us all some good, he decided.
He opened up the flap. He intended to check both sides of the doorway to make sure C-Two wasn't waiting with another knife, but she was sitting on the bed, a book in her hand. It read: Modern Economic Theory.
"That can't be too interesting a read," Zero joked.
C-Two didn't even bother looking up at him.
Zero coughed. "I came here for some papers," he said, which was total crap. They were about to leave, he didn't have the time to sit down and read policy papers. He wanted to see her, speak to her, maybe even broach the idea that Kallen had given him.
Her eyes remained glued to the page.
He sighed. He walked stiffly over to the table, grabbing a few documents that he needed to look over anyway. There was an empty plate with a few crumbs on it, and an empty glass next to it.
"We'll be leaving in an hour," he told her, his tone devoid of emotion. "The guards will tear down the tent for you. You'll ride with them on our way back to Tokyo."
The only response was the sound of a page turning.
He turned to her, anger rising up in him like lava from a volcano. "Say something!"
She looked up at him, her amber eyes placid. "Something," she said, and went back to reading.
He clenched his fist. He stomped over to her and snatched the book from her hands. "I've had just about enough of this," he said, his violet eye ice cold. "I have tried to be compassionate and understanding, considering your current situation, but this is ridiculous. Hate me if you wish, hurl invective and spite if you want. But-" he leaned in close to her, glaring daggers into her amber eyes, "-quit acting like a child!"
She returned his glare coldly. "My Prince is dead, Sir," she said. "Slain by the very people he sought to free, and a scion of his greatest enemies stands before me, acting as if he were some jilted lover." She leaned in close, and Zero could recognize the hate in her eyes. "I am not your woman, Sir. Nor am I this Zero's woman, whomever he may be. I am no one's. You...Britannians," she spat, "have seen to that. May you burn in Hell."
"I've already been there, My Lady," Zero replied. "And I was unimpressed."
Her eyes flashed. "Then perhaps I should return you."
He realized he was on dangerous ground. Then he realized he didn't care. "I wouldn't try it," he said. "We are accomplices after all."
Her expression didn't change, but he could see the note of confusion in her eyes. "Accomplices?"
Zero lifted the scarf from over his left eye. He opened it, revealing the light of the crane of geass in his eye. "We have a contract, you and I," he said. "And I have yet to fulfill your wish."
Her eyes widened. Her lips parted. "My wish?"
"I assume it's the same, yes?" he asked.
She nodded hesitantly.
"I will fulfill it," he said. "I swear that to you. Your wish will be fulfilled."
To die and be at peace. To live in a new world with him.
One wish from her past.
One wish from her present.
He didn't tell her which one he meant.
…
Edogawa City, Tokyo
Ohgi yawned into the palm of his hand. He tried to rub the sleep from his eyes, but only succeeded in closing them for a few seconds, sleep very nearly overtaking him. The armored car drove through a pothole, snapping him back awake.
"You look like Hell, man," Sugiyama said. He sat to his left, looking as tired as Ohgi felt, his hair a mess from having woken up just a few minutes ago himself.
"You don't exactly look great yourself," Ohgi retorted.
He shook his head, slapping himself too keep himself awake. He looked out the window, toward the roaring inferno in the distance.
"Just how bad is it?" Ohgi wondered aloud.
Ohgi had been woken up, from what had been a rather nice dream, and told that the power plant in the east district had gone up in flames. He had thrown on his clothes quickly, washing his face in his water basin, and stepped into the armored car awaiting him outside.
He rubbed is eyes again. Dimly, he thought he could hear the roar of thunder in the distance.
Not another storm, he lamented silently. The last one had been a nightmare of mud and blood. At least we're not fighting a battle this time, he thought glumly.
"What kind of accident did they have to cause this?" Sugiyama wondered aloud.
"No idea," Ohgi replied. "Those flames are nuts."
As they rolled onto the street where the power plant was, his exhaustion fled, his mouth gaped open. The car rolled to a stop, and he climbed out.
Bodies were scattered across the ground both in and out of the plant. Pools of blood formed around them. The evidence of explosives and small arms fire was evident in the shattered checkpoints and blown open buildings. All around them, the lights in the city buildings wre out. People stepped out into the streets to watch the blaze.
He took a few steps toward it, only to be held back by one of his guards.
Please, God, Ohgi thought, let there not have been anyone in the hospitals. Let there have been no accidents or operations today.
If anyone was undergoing any kind of surgery, the blackout caused by this blatant act of terrorism could be a death sentence.
"Who did this?" Ohgi demanded angrily. "What sort of monster deliberately does this?"
"Ohgi!" Sugiyama called out.
Ohgi turned to him. "What is it?"
"Something strange is going on," Sugiyama said, holding his radio. "I'm being informed that we just lost contact with our units along the Tone River."
"Lost contact?" Alarm bells started going off in Ohgi's head. He took a look back at the power plant, only to recoil in horror when he heard an explosion.
A bright red plume rose up not too far away.
"What the Hell was that?" Ohgi shouted.
"Second Consul," his guard said, "I think that's the location of the other power plant in this area."
"What?" Ohgi said incredulously. "The other one just went up?"
"It's possible, sir."
The sound of thunder in the distance was starting to get louder.
Ohgi climbed back into the car. "Get us back to the Palace, and hurry!"
"Yes, sir!"
Something was going down, Ohgi could feel it.
Have to get a hold of Zero, he thought, before it's too late.
…
Gotemba, Yamanashi Prefecture
They didn't make it back to Tokyo that night, finding themselves encamped just five hours outside the city proper. They would ride into the city in the morning, the conquering heroes returning after having pacified the south. At least, largely pacifying it. There were still reports of bands of JLF and Chinese, not to mention the Britannians, but these were small and isolated. The local garrisons should be able to clamp down on them.
Lelouch sat across from Kallen in her tent, eating from another of her bento boxes. Apparently, he and the amnesiac C-Two had reached an arrangement: she would provide him with counsel, as she always had; he would fulfill her wish, whatever that was. To that end, he would install her in an apartment in Tokyo near to his own, where she could be quickly visited, and, left unsaid, watched. That still left Lelouch without a tent to use, so he would be staying with Kallen again tonight.
They had both taken off their coats, and Kallen had unbuttoned the top three buttons on her blouse beneath, exposing the swell of her breasts. Her hair lay flat against her head. She had considered grabbing a bit of oil so that she could style it in her usual spiky fashion, but then she thought about the fact that there was probably enough grease in her hair after weeks of not bathing to perform the same task. The thought had grossed her out enough to reject the option entirely.
"When we get back, I'll make you something to eat," he said through a mouthful of rice. "It's the least I can do, given what you're sharing with me."
"Can you cook?" Kallen asked, balancing a slice of fish between her chopsticks.
"Quite capably, actually," Lelouch said, dipping a shrimp into a tray of soy sauce. "Sayoko cooked for us when we were little, but I wanted to ensure Nunnally's and my independence, in case we ever needed to go on the run." He took a bite of the shrimp. "My cuisine consists mostly of Britannian dishes, since making Japanese or even Chinese meals would have been suspicious to anyone paying attention, but I can make udon ramen in a pinch."
"That's not as impressive as you might think," Kallen said, taking a sip of tea from a metal bottle. "Honestly, I think you're the only one that would find cooking Asian food suspicious."
"You'd be surprised," Lelouch said, mirroring her action. "Most Britannians who actually lived in Japan ate Britannian palates." He waved his metal cup around. "What Japanese crops were actually grown here were converted for the use of a Britannian diet, and the Area actually imported quite a lot of foodstuffs from the mainland."
Kallen wrinkled her nose. "But the Empire rules half the planet," she said. "Wouldn't that mean it would absorb a wide range of delicacies?"
"You have to remember that much of Britannia's conquest has come from that man's reign. There hasn't been the time for food and culture to percolate within Britannian society." Lelouch barked a laugh. "Given your own upbringing, I would have thought you would have known all this," he said.
Kallen chuckled. "I was trying to escape that society, not learn from it," she said. "I put in the work to learn how to be a noblewoman, and I studied a lot, but there's a difference between memorizing information and actually understanding it." She shrugged. "And then there's just the simple fact that I hate the country I was being forced to learn about. The intricacies of Britannian society wasn't as important as properly wiring plastic explosives."
Lelouch nodded. "Fair enough."
Kallen stuck a slice of salmon in her mouth, using the opportunity to calm her heart and strengthen her resolve. "Say," she began, "instead of cooking something, why don't we just hit up that sushi restaurant?"
Lelouch raised his eyes. "Huh?"
She shuffled nervously. "A couple months back, I wanted to take you to that sushi place I told you about." Well, I actually wanted you to take me, but whatever. "Even with the hard times, it's still open for business. We could-"
The flap of Kallen's tent was suddenly swept aside, revealing the nervous face of a young corporal. "Colonel, Tokyo's under attack!"
"What?" Lelouch demanded.
"The rebels are on the move! They've crossed the Tone River!"