I do not own Code Geass.

…

Faisal Inn and Restaurant, Kingdom of Zilkhstan, March 21st, 2020, Kowa Period

The bored expression on C-Two's face belied the pistol she had drawn at the hip, the barrel pointed directly at Cornelia's pretty eyes.

"We've been at peace for two years, Cornelia," she said. "Are you really going to break it now? Over something so petty?"

"Petty?" Cornelia questioned irately. "Petty? My sister molders, unmissed, unmourned, for a crime that was not even her fault! For a massacre he made her perpetrate! And you call it petty?"

"Pretty much," C-Two confirmed.

Cornelia swung her saber pistol from Kallen to C-Two. "You-"

"Sister!" Nunnally's voice called out.

They all looked up to the top of the stairs.

Nunnally was wearing a simple blue dress, and her hair was plaited out down her back. Her wheelchair was analog, Sayoko behind her to push her around.

Cornelia bowed alongside the other Britannians. "Your Majesty," she said, tone stiff but not unkind. "It is good to see you well."

Nunally nodded. "I thank you." She gestured around the room. "Everyone, please, lower your weapons. We are all friends here."

Pistols lowered without hesitation, but hard glares clashed together between the two groups still.

"Cornelia, please join me upstairs," Nunnally commanded. She looked at C-Two. "Miss C-Two, I will summon you shortly. Please join me in a short while."

C-Two shrugged. She holstered her pistol. "Sure, why not? I've got nothing better planned."

There was a hint of a smile on Nunnally's face. Sayoko rolled her back towards her room. Cornelia gave C-Two one last murderous stare, and followed.

Kallen sat back down next to C-Two. "That was a close one," she mumbled, not taking her attention off the Britannians as they filtered into the inn.

"I remember everyone being a lot friendlier two years ago," C-Two remarked. She offered the bottle to Kallen. "What changed?"

Kallen took the offered liquor and downed a swallow. "Reparations payments," she answered. "The UFN voted two-to-one to raise them."

C-Two arched an eyebrow. "Quite the margin. I saw they were planning on voting on another round, but I didn't hear why."

Kallen swallowed another draft. "Japan's Sakuradite reserves were just downsized again. Current estimations state we'll be out of Sakuradite within the next thirty years. Fifteen at current consumption."

"How is that Nunnally's fault?" C-Two asked. "She fought on the side of the UFN. Lelouch is the one who destroyed Mount Fuji."

"Yes, but Lelouch is de-" Kallen choked herself off, grimaced painfully. "Nunnally is still alive," she amended. "And she's the face of Britannia. The Sakuradite problems are happening now, and there are a lot of people criticizing her and Schneizel for fighting at Mount Fuji to begin with."

"My, so many generals in armchairs these days."

"Don't I know it," Kallen said bitterly. "Nunnally already agreed to two previous hikes. There are so many survivors of the war, on both sides of it, in Britannia, who had their positions discharged. Most of them are jobless, or disabled, or both. And most of the former Areas refuse to trade with them."

That makes sense, C-Two thought. Britannia proper was an import economy. Most of their supplies and ingredients came from the colonies.

Britannia was not self-sufficient. With so many of its jobs off-shored to the Areas, it meant there was little domestic production.

"The Neo Britannians were already gaining steam before this happened. After the third hike, Cornelia came out in support of them," Kallen said. She shook her head. "I get where they're coming from, really I do. Everyone's economy is in the crapper. And with all the reparations payments, the Britannians can't even start up businesses to get themselves back on their feet again." She growled. "And no one's willing to offer a little bit of mercy."

C-Two took the liquor back. "Of course they aren't, Kallen," she said, taking a swig. "Seven years of bloody warfare, then four months of tyrannical domination? Did anyone really think that no one would resent them? That no one would demand revenge?"

"He didn't, I don't think."

That stopped C-Two. She scowled. "No. No he didn't," she agreed.

Kallen drew her knees up to her chin. "What do you think we should do?" she asked.

C-Two shrugged.

"Pray."

.…

Infirmary, Geass Order Headquarters, Xingjiang, People's Republic of China (Claimant), February 2018

V-Two came awake sluggishly. Drool rolled down his chin. He realized, gradually, that the neural headset had been removed. He blinked slowly.

Men and women in white coats stood all around him, panic shifting to relief as he regained consciousness.

"My Lord V-Two," one of them, an older, balding gentleman wearing spectacles asked, "are you alright?"

V-Two rubbed a hand to his eyes. "What…happened?" He was shocked to hear his own voice; it was cracked, ragged, and came out more like a croak.

"The neural link between yourself and the Siegfried was severed," the same man answered. "We were worried for you, My Lord. Were it not for your immortality, you would surely be dead."

V-Two shook his head from side to side. It felt like he was having to get a feel for his own body.

"Where is the Siegfried?" he asked.

The scientist darted a look around, but no one came to his rescue. "Well, um, that is…" He wrung his hands. "We, ah, we don't know."

"You don't know?" V-Two demanded.

"My Lord, you have been unconscious for four days!" the man said. "We-We didn't know what to do! Nothing like this has ever happened before!"

A hole opened up in V-Two's stomach. Oh no. Oh no no no no no no. He put a frantic hand to his brow. Charles is going to be furious!

"Lord V-Two?" a timid voice spoke up.

V-Two glanced up.

Joseph Fenette had had a full head of brown hair when V-Two commandeered him for the Siegfried Project. Now it was thinned out considerably on the top. His once bulky frame was thinned down to a husk of his former self.

His hands were held out pleadingly.

"My Lord," he begged, his eyes maddened with fear, "My Lord, what happened to my daughter?"

…

Hengyang, Hunan Province, Chinese Federation

Kallen trembled nervously. Her fingertips were at her lips, nails chewed to ruins. She wore her Black Knight uniform on Lelouch's orders. Her hair was silky from the shower she'd taken, also on his orders, given she hadn't bathed in three days. However, not even the freshness of the bath could mask the deep bags under her swollen eyes, nor the faded hue of her skin as she stared through the dormitory window.

I killed her! Kallen wailed silently. I killed her! Shirley and Nina, I killed them!

Shirley lay on a cot in the inpatient room. Tubes connected to her wrists pumped medicine into her veins, while a large plastic tube had been thrust down her throat to put food in her belly. Her orange-red hair was splayed out beneath her head across the starch white pillow. The white hospital gown she wore was the only sop to her dignity.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm-

"Stop it!" she ordered herself. "Just-stop it!" She rubbed the heel of her hand against her eye. "She's not dead! She's not dead! She's just-just-"

She was just like she had been after the Ashford Bombing: comatose; unresponsive; vegetative.

I made her that way. I did it, me, it was-

"So what do you think?" Lelouch asked Director Chawla.

He was in full Zero regalia, having dispensed with the Spacer persona once Black Knight reinforcements arrived that morning. Alan Spacer was among the claimed casualties of the raid on their HQ in Rajasthan, a loss Kallen doubted many would mourn. Director Chawla had accompanied the reinforcements upon learning of Nina's death, along with a repair crew for the Guren.

"Lord Zero," the Indian woman said, a cloud of smoke exhaled with the words, "you do of course realize that, though I bear the title Doctor, I'm not that kind of Doctor, yes?"

"I don't need a medical doctor," Lelouch retorted. "I need a scientist, one that specializes in integrated circuitry. Or am I mistaken as to your qualifications?"

Director Chawla snorted. "Integrated circuitry in Knightmare Frames, My Lord," she clarified smartly. "The technology in that girl's head is leaps and bounds beyond what I myself have been working on, and, frankly, right out of my area of expertise."

"Her cybernetics were what allowed her to link her brain the Siegfried's," Lelouch countered. "It is, therefore, right in your wheelhouse. Or," Kallen could almost see his tilted eyebrow behind the mask, "perhaps I need to find a new Director."

Chawla laughed without a hint of fear. "If you can find someone, then by all means." She waved her hand around.

"Director Chawla," Kallen said quietly, not taking her attention from Shirley's comatose form. "Please."

I can't be responsible for another friend's death.

The Director sighed. "I think it may be some kind of neural implant," she yielded. "Experimental technology. Very experimental. If I remember correctly, a researcher named Douglas Fairbanks was developing the principle theorem a couple of years ago while serving as the Dean of the Imperial Institute of Technology. His work was published a month before the Battle of Tokyo."

"And your analysis?"

"Interesting stuff." Chawla shrugged. "If you're into brain chemistry, which I am not. Again, I can only tell you what I read in the journals at the time."

"How does it work?"

Chawla sighed. She placed a hand on her cocked hip, resigned herself to the conversation. "Human beings are machines," she explained. "We have hinges, screws, pulley systems, the works. Each part of that machine is operated via the series of nerves that flow through our body that we call the central nervous system. Every movement one makes, every thought one has, is acted out by electrical currents beginning in the brain that command the body's basic functions. Fairbanks' postulation was that, since nerves are effectively electrical currents, then it was possible to control those currents via an electrical implant."

"Control what exactly?" Kallen asked.

The Director shrugged. "Movement, thought patterns, you name it."

"I would very much like to speak with this Fairbanks," Lelouch said.

Chawla laughed. "Good luck with that. I hope you know how to summon the dead. He was killed in a car accident a week after his findings were made public."

Lelouch shrugged. "Very well. How soon can you replicate the technology to awaken Miss Fennette?"

Chawla guffawed. "You are so amusing, My Lord," she said. "Saying that as if I can just jump to your beck and call. I told you. This is not my area of expertise. If I go poking around in that girl's brain, I am just as like to kill her as I am to revive her."

Kallen slid her pistol from her holster and, without turning from Shirley, clicked the safety off. "Director Chawla," she said, shifting the gun to aim at her face, "do what you can to bring my friend back, or I'll blow your head off."

Chawla looked from Kallen to Lelouch. From her reflection in the mirror, Kallen saw that the woman's expression had hardened. "I won't be bullied, Kozuki," she said coldly. "Not by you, Lord Zero, or anyone. Kill me if you feel you must. I'll eat the bullet before I bow down to anyone."

Lelouch's hand came down gently on her arm. "Kallen," he said softly, "put it down."

The soothing touch of his hand weighed down her arm enough so that she lowered it without comment. "We have to," she whispered.

"We will," he assured her. "Director, focus your efforts for now on the Guren's repair. Then I want you to devote all of your spare time, outside of sleeping and eating, to ensuring Miss Fennette's imminent recovery."

"But-"

"The Siegfried can only be operated via neural commands," Lelouch reminded her. "Kallen and Miss Fennette were close friends in school. It's possible Kallen may be able to convince her to switch sides. I want that Knightmare, Director, not excuses."

Chawla sighed. "Very well, My Lord. I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you. You are dismissed."

Chawla sketched a bow and left.

Lelouch curled an arm around Kallen's waist. She relaxed herself into his embrace.

"We're going to save her, Kallen," he promised.

She nodded, but did not trust herself to speak. She placed a hand on the observation window, and stared silently at the sleeping girl inside.

…

Versailles, Occupied Paris, Occupied France

Milly's stomach was queasy, and she wasn't getting much better. Her skin was pale, her eyes dark and tired. Rivalz looked about the same, but his eyes were growing angry the further into the ruined city they tramped.

Bodies. So many bodies.

The victims of the Paris fire were strewn across the street, frozen in the positions they'd died, charred black by the intense heat of the flames that had consumed them. Fires still burned weakly in the windows and doorways of many of the buildings they passed.

"What I wouldn't give to get a shot of this," Rivalz mumbled. He carried their camera at his hip, the recording function switched off.

Imperial marines marched around them, rifles hanging from their backs. Orders had already been relayed to Milly and Rivalz that they weren't to record anything in the vicinity, and to instead begin making their way toward the Rhine Front. A great battle was soon to take place there, one Milly dreaded being anywhere near. They would be out of Paris by this point were it not for the fact that armored carriers were being prioritized for military use only.

An APC passed them on their left, popping corpses in a grisly display of gore and viscera. It wasn't the first time she'd seen that happen, and it still threatened to bring the nonexistent contents of Milly's stomach up.

"This is so odd," she said aloud to Rivalz, more to distract herself than for conversation.

"What is?"

Milly glanced around. "These guys are all marching to the Rhine, right?"

"Yeah, I think that's the idea."

"Why are they marching?" Milly asked. "They need to get to the front as quickly as possible. Yet, they're walking rather than riding in an APC or something similar. Why?"

"Maybe a lot of APC's got destroyed during the invasion," Rivalz suggested. "It was pretty gnarly when we came in, remember?"

Milly nodded. "Yeah, but shouldn't they have replacements, or reinforcements, or something? The road is practically empty of vehicles."

They crossed an intersection, walking just past a Sakuradite station where the price for Sakuradite read '5.87'.

"And there's another thing," Milly pointed out. "Where are all the Sakuradite trucks? An invasion force this big is going to need a lot of Sakuradite. So where is it?"

"That is a pretty good question." Rivalz rubbed his chin. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking they better take the rest of Europe as fast as they possibly can," she answered. "I think the Imperial war machine is starting to run out of gas."

…

Oeffelt, Occupied Netherlands

Jeremiah stepped out of the little cottage at which he'd taken residence. His division had arrived in Oeffelt the night before, and been given leave to rest for the night. A good thing, too; Jeremiah's command was the furthest out of all the invading forces that had come up through France. Troops were landing on the northern coast via barge, but Jeremiah's division had raced out in front. They had captured at least a dozen towns on their own, though at a certain point Jeremiah couldn't help but compare it to an armored road trip. They hadn't encountered any armed resistance the back half of yesterday.

Staring out across the river Meusse, Jeremiah could see why.

Dozens of tanks and Panzer-Hummels dotted the opposite bank, and those were just the ones he could see. Fences swathed in barbed wire lined the crest of the hill on the other side, descending in layers down to the beach sand. He could hear the sporadic booms of cannons in the distance, saw the occasional shell crash into the river. The bridge was still standing, to Jeremiah's surprise. He would have thought they'd have already demolished it, given how much time they must have had.

Maybe they want to blow it with us all aboard?

A risky maneuver, to be sure. If the explosives weren't wired correctly, or the trigger mechanism malfunctioned, they'd only be handing Britannia a route across the only obstruction keeping them from completely outflanking Central Europe. Budapest had been taken, but it seemed the Imperial Army was starting to become bogged down. Evidently, the Net had come back online. The advantage they'd enjoyed for the past three days was at an end. From now on, it would be a grinding slog that Jeremiah doubted would even make it to Warsaw. As he suspected, the Sacking of Paris may have doomed the Imperial cause.

Once this campaign fails, Jeremiah thought, the Britannian people will lose faith in the current government. It will be child's play to redirect their loyalty to His Highness.

At least, he hoped so. Civil wars were bloody business. He'd like to keep his countrymen's losses to a minimum.

"Well, now, if it isn't the Hero of the Hour!" Jeremiah snapped to.

Grandmaster du Villon was approaching him at the head of his natural cadre, a surprisingly genuine grin on his face. "Well met, Margrave!" the large man shouted, clapping Jeremiah on the shoulder.

Jeremiah stared at him in stupefaction.

Where the Hell is this coming from?

"It is good to see you as well," Jeremiah said, granting a slight bow of the head. "I had not expected to see you here."

"I go wherever the action is," du Villon declared. "And after you kept on going right out of Virzon, you took it right with you! The enemy seemed to just flee all across your battle rout!"

Jeremiah strongly doubted that.

"It's true." His head jerked to take in the presence of Lord Farnese and his entourage. "That anchor woman, Pruitt, has been singing your praises nonstop." He flicked a lock of his hair playfully. "One would think you were the only one fighting this war."

"Certainly not, My Lords," Jeremiah said defensively. "I have only gone where the battle has taken me." He glanced around at his position. "Perhaps a little too far."

"Nonsense," Saint-Gilles cracked in his ancient voice. "Young men are virile, strong. It's the old men sitting on their heineys!"

"Are you calling me an old man?" du Villon guffawed.

The Grandmasters laughed.

"Ah! Margrave Jeremiah, yes?"

Who now?

A slender young woman with brown hair and a pert nose held out her hand. A microphone was in the other, a young camera man behind her.

"Kelly Pruitt, Imperial Broadcasting Corporation," she introduced herself. She was practically bubbling with excitement. "I wanted to meet the Tiger himself!"

Jeremiah took her hand without thinking. "'Tiger?'"

"That's what they're calling you," she explained. "'The Tiger of Orleans.' It's the name we came up with, on account of your orange banner." She smiled very prettily at him. "Can I get a few words with the Tiger himself?"

"Of course you can!" du Villon bellowed good-naturedly, slinging an arm around Jeremiah's shoulder. "The Tiger, the Badger, even the Pretty One over here!" He jerked a thumb over to Lord Farnese, who only shook his head in bemusement.

As the camera came on, it suddenly became clear to Jeremiah what was happening, and why Shin wasn't there.

Jeremiah had lost a great deal of face a month ago, with Manfredi's death. Though the court-martial had exonerated him, it had nevertheless stained him in the eyes of the public. While Shin had given him a command, his political career was effectively over. Aside from the fact that Manfredi was their friend, none of the Grandmasters could afford to be seen in his company again.

Virzon had changed that. Jeremiah striking out more or less on his own, defying orders and continuing to advance, had probably been seen as foolhardy by the top brass, but the public hadn't seen it that way. The farther Jeremiah advanced, the more of France fell into the grasping hands of the Empire. The fact that the enemy had just seemed to melt away rather than stand against him only reinforced his heroic image to the people.

So, now that it was politically expedient, the other Grandmasters, who had not exactly covered themselves in glory, would piggyback off of him. That Shin wasn't here was meant to be seen as a deliberate snub, cutting him off from Jeremiah, a pure Britannian, and thereby undermining the legitimacy of his own sovereignty over the St. Michael Knights. One rival, not particularly liked, neutralized, and a potential asset seized.

Ingenious.

He hated them for it. "I'd be happy to give an interview," he said with his best winning smile.

Shin is most definitely not going to like this.

…

Above Occupied Paris, Occupied France

"Nonette," Gino mumbled over the comm, "I feel sick."

"So do I," Anya agreed.

Nonette had an iron grip on her yoke. "Just keep flying, you two," she admonished them. "You weren't involved. There's nothing you can do."

"That's what's pissing me off," Gino retorted, but he fell back into silence.

Great black plumes rose above the city. Parts of Paris were still aflame, the fire burning out of control. Knightmare units were on the move on the ground, rolling down the main highways. The mechanized infantry was filling in throughout the city, checking house-to-house; for enemies or survivors, Nonette didn't know.

The sheer stupidity of this war crime galled her.

Her comm suite beeped. The Prime Minister appeared on her main camera. "Lady Enneagram," he said, "status report."

Nonette clenched her jaw. Through gritted teeth, she said, "The skies above Paris are in our control. Enemy air forces have fallen back to the north and east. It can be assumed they're piling up defenses on the river Rhine."

Schneizel nodded. "Yes, that's to be expected. It is the most defensible location."

"My squadron is ready to move at a moment's notice," Nonette told him. "Just give the word, and we'll wipe out their fortifications before they put them in place."

"Negative," he denied. "We don't have total control over France, there are too many holdouts. Maintain your current position. Provide support on the ground as needed."

Nonette clicked her tongue. "Understood, we'll maintain combat posture." She hesitated. "Your Highness, may I speak with you in private?"

"Certainly. Switch to frequency SIX-POINT-ZERO-ZERO-ONE-ZERO."

Nonette did as instructed. Once she was sure the line was secured, she said, "Your brothers screwed us, My Prince."

"I'm aware," Schneizel replied, his tone losing some of its cool. "They've already been reprimanded, but His Majesty won't allow me to remove them from command."

"Why not? Those fools will have turned that disorganized rabble into an avenging army!"

"This is a conversation better had without the possibility of extra ears," Schneizel advised. Nonette nodded to herself. "What's your Sakuradite status?"

Nonette checked. "Seventy-two percent," she read.

"When it gets down to thirty-five, come to the Avalon for refueling," he ordered. "We can discuss it better here."

"Looking forward to it, Your Highness. Enneagram out."

"This is bullshit!" Gino shouted as soon as she rejoined them. "How many people did we kill down there? How many civilians got merc'd? Those bas-"

"Enough, Gino!" Nonette ripped. "You've said enough! Too much, in fact! We do not raise our voices against the Royal Family!"

"Those loons?" Gino demanded. "You think I'm gonna hold back on those nuts?"

"They initiated a massacre," Anya added. Her normally calm, emotionless voice was tinged with rage. "And in so doing, stained all of our honor."

"Damn straight! Goddammit! This is the second country I've burned in a year! I don't want this goddammit! This is mass murder!"

Nonette shifted her Vincent. "Gino," she warned him, her voice deadly quiet, "one more word, and I will have you thrown in the stockades."

"N-Nonette," Gino spluttered.

"I will have no more slander nor foul language directed against the Royal personage. For any reason. Do I make myself clear?"

"There's no way you can think this is right! Your feelings must say-"

"What I feel," she cut through, "is an uncompromising loyalty to our Holy Britannian Empire. All other concerns are, and must be, secondary."

"Even against your soul?" Anya asked.

Nonette jerked at the question. Where the Hell did that come from? "Enough. Now." She called up the digital route and drew a route on it. "Here's your assigned patrol routes. Go."

"Copy," Anya said.

Gino didn't respond. He just flew off.

Nonette rubbed her forehead, frustration mounting. "They'll get over it," she told herself. "It was the heat of the moment. They'll calm down and we can discuss this like rational adults." She shook her head. "Just give it time."

She swung her Vincent around. She bit the inside of her cheek as she floated over the ruins of Paris.

"Those two have ruined us," she whispered. She gripped the yoke. "All they've done is put steel in the spine of our enemies."

…..

Hexagon Balard, Occupied Paris

Glass crunched underneath Milly's boots. She stepped over the outstretched arm of a dead French soldier. The front of his blue uniform was bathed in red, dried and crusted. She thought for a moment that he had a beard, only for her presence to reveal it as a cloud of flies that buzzed briefly as a black blob before it settled back down on the dead man's face. She swallowed the vomit that threatened to burst from her mouth.

They had taken a side street away from the main road; Gerry was on them about more footage, more reporting. Kelly had, evidently, snagged an interview with Margrave Gottwald, and Milly needed something to top that.

The government center where the Military Command of the EU had set up shop would do nicely.

"As you can see," she said to the camera, "the entire block around the Hexagon Balard was incinerated in last night's fire. The buildings stand cold and empty, a testament to how the democratic forces foolishly burned the city down in an attempt to slow down our heroic warriors."

Actually, it was hot, hotter than she would have thought possible, and not all of the buildings had fallen. Some still stood, blackened by the flames that consumed Paris overnight. Many were piles of rubble, though, their standing walls hollow, forlorn. The window frames were adorned by the fragments of their glass windows, staring out over the destruction. They reminded Milly of the old men in parks she had seen as a child, lonely and lost, gazing longingly with sad eyes as they sat alone on a bench or a chair, with not even birds to keep them company.

"Their efforts were for not, however," Milly continued. "This reporter can confirm that troops under the command of Grandmaster Farnese have in fact made it to Amiens, and even now lays siege to the fortress city."

She actually had managed to confirm that, though the reports were several hours old. Likely, Farnese had already succeeded in taking the city, but she didn't know that for certain.

"Rescue efforts are ongoing," she hoped, "with emergency medical aid being rendered to those French civilians, betrayed by their own government." She wasn't sure if the studio had any B-roll for that particular taste of bullshit. The Propaganda office had wanted that inserted into the story. Maybe they had something? "Milly Ashford, IBC."

Rivalz nodded. "That's it," he said. "Christ, this is so much shit. We really gotta keep spoonfeeding this crap?"

"If we don't want to end up in an Imperial prison, then yeah," she replied. "But by all means, get us shipped off to Alcatraz." She gazed sadly around. "Anything's better than this."

Rivalz slipped an arm around her waist. She leaned into him, taking comfort in his strong embrace. Not for the first time, she wished they were back in Britannia, sharing an apartment out of Pendragon, working for some local station far away from the war.

Is this really what I wanted?

A falling rock broke the silence around them. She pulled away from him, sighing heavily.

"Back to it," she muttered.

They wandered through the rubble, the broken glass, the bodies. So many bodies. Some burned to a crisp. Some were buried beneath debris. Many missing appendages. An arm here. A leg there. A man's head, staring at her with a single bloodshot eye that cut through her like a scythe through grass.

They came to the remains of a brick cafe, as cooked as everything else. A table sat outside on the sidewalk, still upright, black and half melted, the design work warped by the intense heat. There was a chair right next to it, turned on its side. The back was twisted, and had melded to one of the legs.

"Tea, my dear?" Rivalz suggested in his poshest accent, gesturing to the seat.

Milly chuckled weakly. "I think it may be overheated, Monsieur."

"Nonsense, one can never make too hot a tea."

He placed a hand on her back and guided her to the seat. He looked around for a moment, perked up, then hopped over to some of the detritus that surrounded them. He scrounged around. Milly cocked an eyebrow.

He made a triumphant grunt and returned, a tattered tablecloth in hand. He held it out to her. "The latest style in Paris," he declared.

She forced a smile.

He laid it out on the table, smoothing out the creases, aligning it with the edges as best he could. He stood up for her ramrod straight, an imaginary notepad in hand.

"What will you be having today, madame?" he asked.

Milly gave him a more genuine small. She placed a finger inquisitively to her lips. "I should like two crepes and a cup of coffee."

"With milk?"

"Oui."

Rivalz gave her a bow. "Your wish is my command. It shall be up shortly."

"Merci."

Rivalz stepped through the door. He came out just as quickly, his face pale.

He grabbed Milly around the arm. "We gotta go," he said.

"Wh-Rivalz, what?"

"We gotta go!" he repeated.

"What happened? What's-"

She got a glimpse through the door to what he had seen. Corpses hung from the ceiling, swaying back and forth. Their faces were bloated, tongues lolled out, and they stared at her with glassy eyes.

They were all Elevens.

Milly vomited across the ground.

…

Four Seasons Hotel, Nanchang, Chinese Federation

"Urabe managed to retake the districts beyond the Yangtze River," Lelouch said around a mouthful of noodles. He sat at a little table at the end of the bed, stripped down to just his slacks, his cell phone face down in front of him. He pinched another wad of noodles out with his chopsticks from the cheap box requisitioned from the hotel restaurant. "The rebels really shattered themselves trying to take out Shanghai. It's a damn good thing Urabe arrived when he did."

"Lucky is all it was," Kallen commented. She was still in bed, trace amounts of perspiration clinging to her skin.

They were staying in the master bedroom for the night, about the size of a high rise condominium and furnished as such. Kallen sat in the middle of the King size mattress, bed sheets pooled around her hips. Lelouch politely averted his gaze from her naked breasts.

They were on their way to Shanghai, the intent being to rendezvous with Allied troops there and prepare for the assault on the north. With the enemy offensive broken, and fresh reinforcements arriving from Japan, the time to attack was now.

"You can have the best plans, equipment, and soldiers in the world, and Murphy will still bite you square in the ass," Lelouch said. "Luck is war's great determinant."

Kallen grunted noncommittally. She ran a hand lazily through her hair. "How long do you think before Rakshata makes any progress?"

He knew what she was referring to. "Difficult to say. The Guren takes priority, so she still has that to contend with first. I wouldn't expect any progress for at least a month."

"How on earth did they do it?" She wondered aloud. "There's some kind of neural link, I get that. But did they just hook her brain up to a server?"

"You may not be far off the mark," Lelouch replied, sucking a noodle into his mouth. "If Shirley was being controlled electronically, then there would have to be some kind of mainframe to maintain that control."

"Would it be in the main headquarters of the Geass Order?"

Lelouch nodded. "Most likely." He lifted her untouched noodle box. "Your dinner's getting cold, by the way."

"You're remarkably blasé about this," Kallen pointed out. She shifted on the bed, causing her chest to move in ways that made Lelouch immediately look away. "Britannia's on the warpath in Europe, C-Two's body is bound and gagged in the room down the hall, Shirley's in a coma, the volunteers we left with have been killed, and Nina's-" she stopped herself, a hand over her mouth. "I just…I just don't get how your can be so calm."

"Meditation helps," Lelouch replied blithely. "Although there are certain other activities that really help with stress relief."

Kallen blushed scarlet. "Oh shut up."

He smirked. "My mind is racing a mile a minute," he admitted. "There's too much going on all at once and I'm flying by the seat of my pants. I don't have the luxury of panic." He pointed to her food again. "And this still isn't getting any warmer."

Kallen rubbed the back of her head. "Sorry. For some reason, I'm just not feeling very hungry."

"Weird. I seem to get ravenously hungry after sex."

Kallen's face flushed. "L-Lelouch!"

He chuckled. "Eat. That's an order."

Kallen pouted at him; then her lips perked up. She slid with graceful ease off the bed, hips rolling languidly side to side, breasts swaying and bouncing with every step she took.

Lelouch gulped.

She leaned down across him, stiff pink nipples brushing across his shoulder, her musky scent strong in his nose as she took the noodle box from him. With a coquettish wink, she turned around, gave him a long look at her backside, and sat easily back down on the edge of the bed.

"Why don't you join me up here?" she asked, smirking despite the blush burning across her cheeks.

He didn't have to be asked twice.

…

Nancy, Occupied France

Suzaku upended his canteen over his head, dousing his face and hair in fresh cool water. A satisfied sigh billowed out as he felt the sweat and grime run in rivulets down his chin and onto his flightsuit.

He sat on an empty barrel in the middle of the street, his mask discarded to the onboard kit he had with him in the Lancelot. Once he finished cleaning himself, he took a look at the city around him.

Nancy was a beautiful city; or, it likely had been at one point. The architecture here was almost fantastical. There seemed to be a castle on every street, be it church cathedral or government office. Each was done in an overly elaborate style, festooned with the facades of what Suzaku could only assume were church martyrs or famous war heroes. Just down the street from where he sat, Nancy's most prominent cathedral, the Cathedral of the Lady of Our Annunciation and Saint Sigisburt, towered two stories over the Britannian infantry still milling about the city on their way to the Rhine.

The cathedral had originally been three stories. A nest of Franco-German troops had holed up in God's house to make a desperate stand. There had been a machine gun in the central window, and snipers had ringed the roof.

So Suzaku brought it down on their heads.

He had spit green death into each widow on every floor, incinerating most of the defenders that clung to the crucified Messiah above the altar. Their corpses were fused to it now, forever clinging to the golden image of their God.

The city itself looked much the same. The streets were covered in rubble and dead men, most of them civilians. Destroyed vehicles were scattered across the streets and sidewalks, some riddled with bullet holes, others scorched black by heavy weapons, most both.

Suzaku rubbed his nose. "Would have loved to have taken Cecile to this place when it was still standing," he said.

"We'll rebuild it," Sir Offen said. He sipped daintily from a tea cup he'd purloined from a tea shop a few blocks away. "All of France, in fact."

"Minus all this Revolutionary crap," Sir Hecksen amended, tearing into a gourmet sandwich he'd bought at a little cafe in Saint-Dizier.

"Yes, minus that," Offen agreed.

"Your family from around here?" Suzaku asked. "Invading Europe was all about recovering stolen land."

Offen chuckled. "'Offen' doesn't sound very French, does it Captain?" he asked.

"My name's Kururugi, all your names sound weird to me," Suzaku retorted good-naturedly.

His subordinates laughed. "I'm German, Captain," Offen explained. "My family comes from Rostock. My great-grandfather was a burgrave. Actually fought Lafayette on the outskirts of Munich. After the Holy Roman Empire fell, he escaped with his family to Albion, and from there to Holy Britannia when Napoleon invaded."

Suzaku whistled. "Very impressive."

"I'm from Munich," Hecksen butted in, leaning forward. "My great-great-grandfather mounted the barricades at Berlin. He held the Reichstag for three days before the French overran his position." Hecksen punched his chest. "The Immortal Fifty, the Men Who Would Not Yield!"

"Wasn't his wife killed with him?" Offen asked.

"Yep! Helga von Heiken! Picked up her husband's musket after he fell. Killed two Frenchies with the bayonet before a lieutenant sabered her through the heart."

"But Helga von Heiken had no children," Offen said.

Suzaku blinked. "Hold on. How are you here then if they both fell at Berlin?"

Hecksen blushed. "I never said my great-great-grandma was his wife," he said sourly.

Suzaku and Offen laughed.

…

Helipad, The Winter Palace, Shanghai, Chinese Federation

"Stop fidgeting, Jiang, it will be fine," Kaguya lightly scolded her friend.

The Tianzi sat within her palanquin, a square box of red wood inlaid with snarling gold dragons and a thin, shimmery red veil that covered the entrance.

"I am to meet your beloved in the flesh," Jiang replied, a hint of her nervousness bleeding into her tone.

Kaguya rolled her eyes. "You met him when he first arrived in the country."

"As Colonel Spacer," Jiang retorted.

Kaguya shrugged, smile demure.

"Your Majesty," Xingke said, leaning forward, "we've confirmed the Gawain's final approach. A helicopter carrying their propagandist is preceding them."

"Very well," the Tianzi said.

A few minutes later, the whup whup whup of the helicopter blades shattered the silence of the landing pad. It landed just long enough for the camera crew to jump out, took off as soon as they were clear. Diethard dashed about the platform, barking orders. He hefted a camera on his shoulder, jogged over to the Tianzi's position, and knelt. He gave her a quick, respectful nod, swiveled around, and steadied the camera for Zero's final approach.

In the distance, the Gawain's beacon light was growing brighter and brighter.

Kaguya bounced on her feet, giddy with anticipation.

The Knightmare emerged from the shadows, battered and battle scarred, but proud and triumphant. To her astonishment, she could see Lord Zero standing atop its remaining hand, one hand on his hip, the other holding almost leisurely onto the thumb. His cape billowed in the wind behind him.

Kaguya's heart thundered in her chest. Her cheeks burned fiery red. Her legs rubbed against one another in a sudden attempt to scratch the itch between her thighs.

"My Prince," came the whisper, unbidden.

The Gawain knelt. Zero alighted from it smoothly, as if he were merely climbing down a staircase, and his boot heels clicked imposingly as he approached the delegation.

"Your Majesty," he hailed in that hard, robotic voice that sent shivers down Kaguya's spine. "It is an honor to meet you in person."

There was no bow, no nod of the head. This was a meeting of Kings, and Kings did not kneel.

Jiang was silent for a beat longer than courtesy dictated. "Likewise, Lord Zero. You are well met."

Kaguya glanced at her friend, stifled a laugh.

Judging by how rosy Jiang's cheeks were, it seemed Kaguya wasn't the only one affected.

…

Private Quarters of the Prime Minister, Avalon, Above Occupied Paris

"The Euros are forming up as we speak, Schneizel," Nonnette said.

She sat at the Prime Minister's coffee table, a brown lacquered disk atop a three-pronged stand. His private quarters within the Avalon were richly furnished; multiple bookcases lined the walls, a work desk with a desktop computer sat off to the side, and a four poster bed festooned with red-gold curtains rested in a corner of the room. It was rather small to Nonnette's taste, but that was neither here nor there.

"I scanned the satellite imagery as I was coming in," she continued. "Barbed wire, trenches, pillboxes. If we wait any longer, crossing the Rhine is going to be even more of a bloodbath than it already was."

"I'm aware," Schneizel replied. He was at his wine cabinet, perusing the selection. He settled on a bottle, uncorked it, and brought it over with a pair of glasses. He poured from the decanter into both, slid one to her, and relaxed into his seat. "They won't be receiving much in the way of reinforcements. The rebellion in Slovenia and the Balkans is diverting much of Eastern Europe's forces. They're trying to stall them outside of Budapest."

Nonnette ran her finger around the glass' edge. "You think they'll succeed?"

"I do." Schneizel nodded. He took a dainty sip. "The road network and terrain favors the defense, and the Balkan militaries are hardly the strongest in Europe. Still, it will distract them from our assault across the Rhine."

Nonnette downed her wine in a single long swallow. "You need to send us out so we can take out their fortifications," she said, wiping her mouth.

Schneizel shook his head, poured her another glass. "No can do. Our control over France and the Low Countries is tenuous. The blitzkrieg outran our infantry and supply lines. We not only have to get our supply convoys into position, but take out hundreds of pockets of stragglers and resistance. I need you and the other Rounds to focus on cleanup efforts here."

"My fellow Rounds are getting mutinous," Nonnette said. She slaked her thirst a second time and held up her glass for more. "As am I. What the Hell were you thinking, letting those two lunatics have command? You saw what they did in Africa!"

Schneizel filled her up. "I didn't put them in charge, His Majesty did," he retorted. "I would have preferred to place Uncle Oiagros in command, but His Majesty nixed that idea. Peace Mark has been an almost fatal thorn in our side, and they must be hunted down. We've been running the Glinda's into the ground all across the Mediterranean to try to find their stashes, unearth their plans."

"Schneizel," Nonnette said, holding her glass at the top and pointing at him, "we will never be able to maintain our control over Europe after this. Those idiots turned Paris into a martyr." She quaffed her third glass, rubbed her hand over her mouth. "What they did was evil, Schneizel. It's unforgivable. And above all else, it's stupid." She carefully schooled her mien. "I will not carry out another such order, Schneizel. Not unless it is expressly the Emperor's command. And Gino and Anya won't even do that."

"Sir Weinberg will do whatever you wish," Schneizel retorted. He poured her another. "You and that boy have been dancing around each other for the better part of a year. Lie with him, and he'll do whatever you say."

Nonnette blushed deeply. "You don't know Gino, Schneizel," she countered. Her grip on the glass was unsteady, and the wine sloshed around. "Young though he is, he is his own man. My kisses are not going to keep him in line. And you're ignoring Anya, besides."

"Anya will do as she's told, I've been assured of that by the Emperor himself. As for Sir Weinberg…" Schneizel smiled. He sipped his wine. "Well, you won't know until you try."

…

War Room, The Winter Palace, Shanghai, Chinese Federation

"The Indians are moving into position along their prearranged routes," Zero announced. He waved a wand across the war table they stood around toward the tiger mannequins. "Their numbers are substantially reduced, but they should provide distraction enough against the Rebels' western flank."

Xingke nodded his agreement. "Federation forces are deployed into forward positions, and our reserves are being rolled into place as we speak. Despite the enemy's attack, and our own setbacks, we appear to be in a very strong position for our offensive." He turned to Xianglin. "How is our Sakuradite looking?"

"We've reached satisfactory status," she answered. "We would need another week to reach a surplus cache, but I understand we don't have that kind of time."

"Yes, the attack must happen as quickly as possible," Hong Gu added. "How long before your own Black Knights are in position to begin the attack, Lord Zero?"

"Within the next twelve hours," the terrorist replied. "We will be ready to do our part."

"Will it be wise to launch from these positions?" the Tianzi asked, indicating the Black Knights' pieces on the board, symbolized by large King chess pieces that resembled Zero's helmet. "You indicated that you still intend to strike the Empire's spy station in Xinjiang."

"That is our goal," Zero confirmed. "One we will be able to carry out. It is my proposition to deploy the new weapons system for the assault into the north."

FLEIJA. Xingke had read the report from the testing site out of Rajasthan. If even half of its findings was to be believed, its destructive power was unimaginable. He focused his eyes on Zero's body. The man was cool, detached, wholly unlike the Spacer persona he had evidently retired. Xingke shot a look at Hong Gu.

"Are we certain this device will carry the destructive firepower you promised?" Hong Gu asked for him.

"Yes," Zero said. "I saw it in action myself. Captain Einstein's death will not have been in vain."

Kozuki stiffened in her corner behind him, but said nothing.

"And what of the destruction of our major cities?" Xianglin asked. "If your weapon does perform to specification, entire cities will be laid to waste."

"Cities can be rebuilt, General," Zero retorted. "Millions will die in the campaign to come, and the war with Britannia afterward. Our cause cannot afford casualties that could have been otherwise avoided."

Xianglin shifted to the Empress. "Is this what you desire, Your Majesty?" she asked.

The Tianzi's countenance showed little. "We desire an end to this fratricidal bloodletting, General," she said. "The destructive power of this weapon may well discipline our rebellious children into obedience. If your weapon can save even one life, then we are prepared to accept the consequences of its use."

Xingke bowed his head. "Very well. Her Majesty has spoken. I recommend we strike here," he pointed on the map to an area just west of Yangchen, "here," he shifted to Bengbu, "and here," this time indicating Hefei. "These are the Rebels' principal southern strongholds, and would have to be taken anyway as part of our offensive."

Hong Gu nodded. "That makes sense. We can order the assault a few minutes before the FLEIJA's are launched. That will get us through the immediate strike zone with as little delay as possible."

"We can publicize the destruction to the Rebels as well," the Lady Sumeragi said. "I am certain video footage of the devastation will entice many of them to lay down their arms."

"An excellent suggestion," the Tianzi said. She turned to Zero. "We will see to it that your documentarian has access to whatever airborne vehicle he requires."

Zero inclined his head. "I thank you."

…

EU Mobile Command Center, Wurzburg, Federal Republic of Germany

"Malcal, report," Smilas ordered.

Leila held a handwritten sheet up. "We have thirty-five thousand troops in defensive positions along the Rhine Front," she said. "A further twenty-five thousand await behind them as reserve. Artillery is pre-sighted. Demolition teams are waiting for the word."

The demolition teams referred to the Engineer Corps. As the last of the European forces had made their retreat across the Rhine, the engineers had planted explosives at key points along each of the bridges that crossed the river. The standing order was to wait until the Imperials had begun the crossing, then drown them in the river Rhine. Due to the sensitive nature of the operation, General Smilas had an electronic detonator sitting before him.

The command center was two tiered, with command staff above, and support staff below, joined by twin staircases at both ends. Leila and Smilas stood across from each other at a digital table upon which the enemy positions had been mapped out. Anna was down below with the support staff, running their electronic warfare suite, while Yukiya was working with other technicians on the mainframe as they attempted to bring the Net fully back online.

"Very good." He turned to Claus. "Relay a reminder to not blow the damn things until the Imperials are about halfway across. I doubt the bastards can swim."

Claus saluted. "On it, sir!"

"General," Leila said, steeling herself for another attempt, "I must again repeat my request to be placed back with my unit."

"Denied. I need you here, Major. Your keen insight will be essential for operational success."

Leila clenched her report. As soon as their arrival was confirmed, Smilas had Leila reassigned as Chief of Staff. Nominally, she was still in command of the W-0 unit, but Captain Shibata was the acting field commander.

"General," she tried again, "my key experience has been as commander of special forces units in small scale tactical engagements. There are plenty of analysts and commanders within this very building that would make for a better Chief."

"Major, you were assigned the W-0 unit because of your intelligence and strategic acumen," Smilas dismissed. "Both of which I need right now. Aside from which, your unit is a Knightmare company without any Knightmares. Now quit trying to force the issue, it's bad for morale."

Leila bowed her head. "Forgive me, General." She laid a hand on the digital map in the approximate area of where her team was.

Hang in there, everyone. I'll get you Knightmares, I swear it!

"Fitzpatrick," Smilas said, nodding to a major at Leila's left. "What's the situation in the east?"

"Improving," the dark haired man said. "The Eighth Army has the enemy bogged down outside of Budapest. The enemy tried to make a move to the east, but the terrain did a great deal to blunt their assault. The Poles are funneling a division down to reinforce the defenses."

"Just a division?" Leila asked. "Where's the rest of their troops?"

"Formed up against the Russian border," Fitzpatrick answered. He glanced at Smilas. "Sir, we haven't heard anything from them. Our communiques from the Russians have gone dark."

Smilas' jaw tensed. "This is no time for the Bear and the Eagle to settle accounts! Get those fools on the line and get it sorted out!"

"I-Yes, General!"

…

Hockenheim, South of Route 61, Federal Republic of Germany

Ryo trudged down the trench line as quickly as the crowd inside would allow. The dirt walls rose several feet above his head, and wooden planks lined the flooring to prevent the troops inside from sinking into the soft soil. There were ladders leaned up against them, and plywood covered ledges that allowed them to take positions in their firing holes. He passed machine gun emplacements at ten yard intervals, the jingling of ammunition belts loud in his ears.

His normally pristine uniform was covered in dirt and mud, and he had a cut over his right eye from where a shovel smacked into his unprotected forehead. Since that accident, he had managed to pick up an infantry helmet and a proper kevlar vest that was just as stained as his clothes. His muscular arms strained as he hauled two fifty pound boxes of fifty caliber ammo to the gun he'd been assigned.

This grounder shit is for the dogs!

There weren't enough Knightmares to go around, not after the cyberattack. Just over a third had been brought back online since the invasion began, and factories out of Germany and Poland were working overtime to ship more off the assembly line; but European units were being prioritized by the High Command, leaving Eleven units like the W-0 without the equipment they were trained for.

When a bullet smacked into the back wall of the trench a couple of inches above Ryo's head, he cursed.

"What I wouldn't give to have about eight tons of steel protecting my sorry ass right now!"

He arrived at his gun nest. Ayano and Shibata were waiting for him, similarly armed and filthy. They would be operating as a three man team, Ayano as spotter, Shibata as gunner, and Ryo as feeder. Akito had taken the gunner position on another emplacement at the next nearest nest to Ryo's left.

Makes sense, the madman. No one in this unit loves killing as much as he does.

"Here you go," Ryo said aloud, hefting the ammo boxes onto the ground next to the gun. Shibata mouthed a thanks, barely acknowledging him as he checked his sights. Ryo looked to Ayano. "Any change on the other side?"

"They're moving a lot of guys in," she answered, binoculars at her eyes. "A lot more than were there yesterday. There's gotta be at least three Knightmare battalions over there."

"Any of those flying ones?"

"A few, but it looks like they're holding back."

"They'll come in when the assault begins," Shibata predicted. He racked the gun. "We'll just have to hope the fighters keep them off of us."

Fat chance of that, Ryo thought but didn't say.

He ducked when the sharp report of a gunshot cracked down the line. There was a hideous scream, then shouts as the troops below tried to rush the unlucky bastard to a medical tent in the rear.

Ryo ground his teeth.

Should've ran when we had the goddamn chance!

He heard a sudden whistling sound.

"INCOMING!"

An artillery shell smashed into the trenchline thirty yards to Ryo's right. Another came down a few yards behind him, then another before their breastworks, and another, and another, and a shower of hail and sand, and dirt, and shrapnel was coming down on their heads.

"THIS IS IT!" Shibata shouted. "IT'S STARTING!"

…

Federation Hangar Bay, The Winter Palace, Shanghai, Chinese Federation

Kallen tapped her boot heel impatiently as she waited on the Gawain's system checks to go through. Most of the Gawain's damage had been superficial, aside from the fracture over the Sakuradite hold. That had already been patched up, as had the rest of the damage; but the new steel coating hadn't been painted yet to match the Knightmare's overall color scheme, and the new sections stuck out like a sore thumb.

With the Guren in deep repairs, and the traitorous bitch a nonstarter, Kallen was once again left to pilot the hulking monstrosity. She had observed while the technicians made their final repairs, then climbed into the machine to perform her own diagnostics and ensure that it was running at optimal level.

Lelouch was going over final protocols with the flight commanders somewhere in the milling mess of the hangar bay. She'd be with him, but he frankly didn't need her, and these checks had to be finished. If she was with him, she could hear him speak, concentrate on the mission.

She wouldn't have the time to think.

I killed her. I killed her. She's dead and rotting in some barren wasteland, and it's my-

Kallen sucked in a deep breath. She ran a second system check on the Gawain's OS, then a third when that one finished. She rearranged the wiring on a panel above the yoke, adjusted the seat to better accommodate her form.

I killed Nina, I murdered Nina, I slaughtered her like a dog-

The system check beeped and she punched it through again. She climbed into the gunnery position, tuned the latency on the turret control. She gave the turret a few quick test swings left and right, up and down. She tightened up the sensor on the targeting computer.

DEAD DEAD DEAD DEAD DEAD DEAD-

Kallen buckled forward against the gun. "Haaaahhhh," she groaned heavily. "Haaaaahhhh. Haaaaaaaahhh. Haaaaaaahhh."

Tears fell from her eyes and dripped down her nose to the deck below.

"I'm s-s-sorr-rrry!" She hiccuped. "I'm sor-sorry! I-I-I-uuuhhhnn!"

Nina's neck was twisted. Her glasses were broken. Her eyes were closed. She could have just been sleeping.

Kallen dug the heel of her hands into her eyes. She breathed short ragged breaths, shuddered, sat back up. Her eyes were red and swollen. She rubbed the tears from her cheeks.

"Get it together, Kozuki," she ordered herself. "Quit your crying. You killed her. You killed her, and there's nothing you can do about it." She rubbed a hand against her aching forehead. "Shirley's still alive. You can still save her. Nina's dead, I don't know where the Hell Rivalz, Milly, and Suzaku are, but you can still save Shirley. She's counting on you. So man up and get ready."

She shook her head, wiped her nose, and finished with her system checks. When Lelouch climbed into the cockpit in full Zero regalia, he didn't comment on her state. He patted her briefly on the shoulder and settled into the turret.

"Alright," he said, doffing his mask and shaking his hair free. "Let's go."