The floor was unforgiving to his knees as Bismarck knelt before the monitor. His eye itched, having just found time in the last hour to stitch it shut again.
He wondered if he should've bothered. Chaos was lurking in every corner, and the few seconds needed to unveil his geass could be the difference between life and death. Yet, he had sealed the eye shut in honor of Marianne's "death" because with her passing he had no equal anymore.
Fuck. Being around the young prince was making him nostalgic. He missed her, the real her, not the shadow lurking in Anya.
"Waldstein," Charles greeted, his visage engulfing the entire screen. He was pissed. "Where were you when the attack began?"
Lelouch had offered to corroborate a decent excuse, but it was still a lie. Charles loathed being lied to.
Bismarck would always be absolutely loyal to Charles, but in order to protect the young prince, he needed his trust as well. Rescuing the young girl and allowing her to remain had done much in lowering the boy's defenses.
All it would take was for Charles to relate a too personal detail back to Lelouch for their unacknowledged truce to crumble.
He hated being in this position, balancing duty against loyalty.
"I was in the Viceroy Palace to investigate some intelligence."
"Sensitive enough that you couldn't send anyone else?" Charles demanded, his eyes narrow. "I know what you think of this assignment: babysitting. I had hoped that as my sworn knight you would still take a task I entrusted you seriously. A geass user sneaked through your security."
Bismark bowed his head lower. "Yes, Your Majesty. I apologize. I failed in my duties."
"If you were anyone else…" Charles coughed, and Bismarck looked up instinctively. "I need you, Bismarck. I need you to do this."
"I fucked up, Charles. I know that. It won't happen again. I swear."
Charles collapsed into a chair, causing the camera to swing wildly. "Why should I trust that? I could send Alstreim. She would be ecstatic."
Bismarck grimaced. "She's… not thinking right, you know that. Plus, given her age and memory problems, Prince Lelouch would see it as an insult. She is also not suited to secrecy, and he will give her plenty to be outraged about and many questions which she will struggle to answer."
"Questions?" Charles cocked his head. "So he is acclimating then?"
"He wonders about his mother."
"Ah. It is only natural, I suppose. And what have you told him?"
Too little and too much. It would be best to say nothing until he learned the entire truth, but the boy deserved to know how brightly his mother had shone for others.
"Brief mentions of our time together as part of the Rounds. He won't be satisfied with that."
The corner of Charles's lips ticked upwards. "You could always refuse. Or do you mean to ask what you can tell him? Are you feeling guilty? Or are you growing a little fond of the so-called spoiled brat?"
Bismarck bit his tongue, refusing to rise to his goading. Maybe later, he could ask properly, but not now, when Charles was still feeding his fury.
"What of the attack?" Charles asked.
"Prince Lelouch rose to the occasion in a remarkable manner. He took control of the local forces to safely evacuate the students and lure the terrorists into a trap. He has a plan to draw out the culprit behind the attack which I have allowed although I doubt it will work."
"He impressed you?"
"Yes," Bismarck grudgingly admitted. "He has much to learn, but given he is self-taught, I know he will go far given proper tutelage and opportunity. He would've grown into a far more dangerous foe than I gave him credit for."
Charles humphed, but the anger was abating. "You thought I was a fool for choosing him. I told you he would surprise you."
"Yes, reviewing the security footage has made it clear that it is necessary to keep an eye on him at all times. The school is a madhouse, and Prince Lelouch wields the keys. He has smoke bombs in every other corridor. I doubt he exhausted all his tricks today either."
"He was always a creative child."
That was not how Bismarck would characterize it. A small group of students had nearly been cornered by the terrorists in the English wing. Apparently, the smoke bomb was flammable.
Bismarck was going to have to discuss with him whether his surprises would be a hazard in the event of a fire.
Paranoid, that was the more apt description. Distrusting, guarded, vengeful.
"There is a problem. It's why I left, ill-advised as it was," Bismarck continued. "Our surveillance of him was incomplete. There is also the matter of the year before he arrived at Ashford Academy. He may have the potential to be a great Emperor, but his hatred for Britannia is deeper than we imagined, and it's more than the animosity of a child abandoned by his father."
"He really did impress you."
"He terrifies me," Bismarck answered honestly. "My profile of him is incomplete, and my best lead is an Eleven who has willfully been hiding the boy's secret. I doubt he will be honest with me, even on pain of death. Right now, the boy's rage is targeted at the terrorists but once that resolves, I have no idea what he will do."
Charles nodded. "It does not matter as long as his sister is safe. He will not endanger the Empire if it would harm her. You should encourage Euphemia to visit more, remind him of his roots."
"It's not enough." The boy might have remarkable self-control, but the rage would slip free soon enough. "He is burning with anger, Charles. That rage has to go somewhere. If it can't, he will destroy himself. He gained the men's compliance by threatening his own safety. He will tell the world he's Zero, if he feels cornered. He's never considered a future for himself, Charles. I don't think he expected to see what would follow his rebellion."
The minutes ticked by in agonizing silence as Charles leaned back and closed his eyes to think.
Did he trust his insights? Would he take them seriously?
Bismarck knew his specialty wasn't people, but they both had seen the effects of hatred, when lies festered and grew so large that they swallowed your humanity.
It was a condition that could afflict anyone: nobles, commoners, Britannians, Numbers, and foreigners.
They had left the boy swaddled in easy comprehensible lies because sometimes the truth was too terrible to comprehend. The worst lies came when one couldn't or didn't want to understand.
They had failed.
Charles massaged his brow. "It is too late to change course. I doubt he will trust anything I will say."
Bismarck failed to suppress a snort. It went far beyond not trusting his father's word. The boy actively sought to discover malice behind every gesture.
"Let him discover things on his own," Charles commanded. "He is more likely to trust information he has to fight for than that given freely. Let him learn that C.C. was not alone in her work, and of the strangeness involved in the attack. It would've been safer for him to be unaware until it was over, but perhaps it is best for him to attain his own revenge at our side."
"I see." Redirecting the boy's anger could work. Closure would help, but if the boy glimpsed an inkling of their manipulation, it could backfire. Hatred was not logical. "May I suggest slowly loosening the restrictions on him."
"Explain."
"The student council keeps his more extreme tendencies at bay. He loses it when he's not assured of their safety. Stadtfeld's absence has been notable. I had to assure him of her safety before he shouted out every unfortunate secret."
"He is supposed to make new bonds," Charles reprimanded lightly. "He won't do that if he can fall back on old ones."
"He's hyper vigilant around his classmates. He never lets them get too close, and he won't even tell them how he is feeling. It is frankly a miracle that he relaxes around the student council, even if he never trusted them with the truth."
Bismarck had to wonder how much of Zero's attire was actually there to make him seem unapproachable. He doubted that Zero ever engaged in idle chit-chat with his men or even allowed them to stand within arm's reach of him.
"The student council won't survive Pendragon," Charles noted. "The young Ashford has a chance, but the rest are commoners without any experience in combat or politics."
The red haired girl's face flashed across his mind. After shooting to kill, twice, she was hardly new to combat. There was something commendable to her response under pressure, even if she was now spiraling.
Honestly, if she was perfectly fine afterwards, Bismarck would be worried. Stone cold killers were not ideal to have around the young prince.
"I would suggest training them. Let them enter Pendragon in the position of aides, servants, or guards, hidden out of the public's sight. If you put together a diverse entourage to greet him, they will easily slip unnoticed into them."
Yes, this would work. Already a plan was coming together. Some of them could choose to stay behind, but there was one who would leap at the opportunity: the Eleven that meant so much to Lelouch and was so dejected at being discharged from the army. He was a knightmare pilot, a good one. If Bismarck leveraged his cards right, he could turn that natural gratitude into a chance to learn more about Lelouch.
Hopefully, the Eleven was still loyal to Lelouch, even after being cruelly discarded. Bismarck suspected he was.
Charles nodded. "I will instruct our entrenched agents to float the idea forward. Lelouch will need to see the effort come from his friends, not coerced by us. He is watching your movements far too closely."
"I understand." Irritated, he wondered which of his subordinates would be willing to recruit an Eleven to the cause. That would be near impossible. On the other hand, it was far more natural for Bismarck to take an interest in the Eleven than any of his other classmates.
"For now, tell him your report went well. I am pleased by his efforts to behave in a manner befitting his title. If he continues, he will be permitted to video call Stadtfeld next weekend."
"He'll be furious," Bismarck warned. The boy wanted nothing to do with being a proper prince. "Wouldn't it be best to frame it for his part in repelling the attack? Or simply make it a concession?"
"Someone has to play his devil." There was that smile again, the one shared between Lelouch and Charles. A trap was being set, and Bismarck did not appreciate the distinct feeling of being bait. "Now, about our mysteriously revived Lord Charmant…"
Richard held the graded papers to his chest and stood before the door of his English class, counting down from ten as he tried to psyche himself up. The attack had been three days ago, with classes resuming yesterday.
Everything had been too quiet.
He had expected arrests and interrogations dragging students out of their comfortable little lives. He expected the Crown Prince Lelouch to be bundled on a plane, never to grace their campus again.
Apparently, he had attended math class yesterday.
He pushed open the door, not allowing himself to look over his class and dropped the graded reading responses on the podium.
An empty desk beckoned to him, and he finally could breathe freely.
The Crown Prince was absent today. There would be no Knight of One silently judging the merits of his lecture today either. Today, at least, he could have a peaceful class and not worry about the calamity that would inevitably befall him.
He really had been feeling sick, but even his wife agreed that taking a day off would be suspicious.
Or maybe it was more suspicious to not take a day off. Mrs. Maywater, the eldest teacher in their department, had taken yesterday off. She came back with a bottle of anti-anxiety pills that Richard kept finding his gaze drawn to.
"Mr. Barker," one of the girls asked, "can I have a note for the nurse?"
He glanced at her, judging her red eyes but physically fine appearance. She rarely caused trouble in class, which made him rather fond of her. "Is it urgent? It's not a good idea to wander the halls alone. There might be… misunderstandings."
She bit her lower lip. "No… I just… I wanted to check if Shirley is there, but the guards won't let anyone in without a note."
"That's not safe," Richard mumbled to himself. It would really be better for both of them to not draw attention to themselves, but— "I will take you after class."
He rubbed his forehead. For all that his students exasperated him, he was fond of them.
None of them were prepared for the might of the Empire to crash down on their heads. They lived comfortable lives, sheltered from the jostling of most nobles and the poverty of the masses. Ashford has been far too liberal and light handed.
He cleared his throat. "I would like to remind you of restrictions on proper reading material." Their brows furrowed. "Mr. Snider found some inappropriate pamphlets. All student printers will be off until the culprit is found."
"Who is stupid enough to print porn in the library?" someone whispered.
Richard wisely chose to pretend that he didn't hear that. If only it was something so benign.
They were hosting the Knight of One on campus and some idiot had decided to slander the Crown Prince. He only hoped that Mr. Snider had stopped it before the fool actually distributed such material.
"Under normal circumstances," Richard continued, "disciplinary actions for minor infractions would be under the student council's purview." A few students shifted with obvious guilt, and Richard marked them on the attendance sheet. "Anything major was left for the headmaster to decide. You're all smart enough to realize these aren't normal circumstances. The soldiers do not have to report infractions; they can arrest you."
The youthful confidence fled their faces. They weren't fools, just inexperienced.
"Mr. Barker?" A boy in the back raised his hands. "Is there a reason why you're saying this?"
"I passed a few soldiers on the way here annoyed about our culprit shitting in the bathroom sinks," Richard lied. "I know one of you knows who is responsible. Do me the favor of warning him before we all learn who he is because he is strung up on a post outside."
"But that's for Numbers."
"That was Prince Clovis's policy. As proper Britannians, you can plead your case. That would either be Sir Waldstein or Crown Prince Lelouch."
Amusingly, the latter's name made them gulp. Between the two, the crown prince was far more likely to actually listen.
"Now, please open your books to Act Five. I hope you have read it." Nobody met his eyes. "Seriously? We were supposed to finish this last week."
"It's not our fault. My dorm caught on fire!"
"I lost my book."
"Lelouch being a prince is distracting!"
"I was out for a baseball game."
"I'm going to marry him so who needs English anyway."
Only one of those was a valid excuse! Did they all think because something traumatic happened a few days ago he would postpone the deadline? He surveyed his students. Yes. Yes, they did.
They were going to go home to their parents and cry about how evil and strict he was.
Then the headmaster would pull him into his office to have another chat.
"You all have an extra reflection to turn in, tomorrow by noon. If your room was on fire, you may email to be excused from the assignment." He was too soft on these fools. "In the future, notify me before class if you need an extension."
Not that they would remember his words. Their brains were like sieves when it came to actual life lessons. Gossip meanwhile would be remembered forever.
"Why should I bother?" Caspian asked, his snotty tone grating on the ears. "I'll have a secretary to take care of that."
"Mister Caspian—"
"Lord Caspian," he corrected, crossing his arms.
"School policy is to dispense with noble titles."
He snorted. "You keep messing up with Lamperouge."
If Robert held his smile any longer, his teeth would fall out. "Seeing how that policy only applies to nobles, I'll exercise prudence so my head may remain attached to my body. Additionally, your father instructed me to remind you the next time you make a fuss that there are far more agreeable potential sons in this class should you continue to cause problems."
For the first time, he had the boy's full attention as his eyes blew open in panic. It was cruel to make such an announcement publicly, but Viscount McLeod had given his son every opportunity to prove worthy of his inheritance.
"You're lying!" He shook his head. "He can't disinherit me."
Fool. Had he taken the news calmly, the students wouldn't register it as a believable threat. His protests only fueled the hunger in some of his classmates' eyes. They would do anything to become nobility.
"Discuss it with your father later. Richard said. "Now, since we have dallied long enough, we shall read act five together. Who wishes to voice Hamlet?"
The following argument provided enough distraction for the young boy to pull himself together. Robert wished he could help him, but they had warned him for years.
The truth was, even if he stopped acting out in his classes, the only way for him to inherit his family estates was through his father's untimely death or marrying a young woman competent enough to impress his father.
Had Caspian's father bothered to pay attention to his lackluster heir, the boy wouldn't have become such a disappointment.
Maybe Lam—Crown Prince Lelouch had a point in his essay on worthless fathers.
Horatio and Hamlet continued the exchange, the students butchering the exchange in attempting to imbue their own dramatics.
It was a pity that Lam—Crown Prince Lelouch was absent. He had been good at modulating his tone to convey the right emotions in his readings.
The students always saw it as a treat when the opportunity arose, cajoling him to perform despite his menial protests.
"Does it not, think'st thee, stand me now upon— / He that hath kill'd my king and whored my mother," their Hamlet declared as the door swung open.
Richard raised his eyes to the ceiling, cursing himself for having chosen the play and bemoaning his lack of luck.
Crown Prince Lelouch raised an amused eyebrow. The Knight of One behind him looked furious.
"Hamlet. We're reading the last scene," he rushed to explain. He was aware of the less than kind words being used to describe the past Empress Marianne. "I apologize, I marked you as absent, Your Highness."
His stomach twisted as he glimpsed the guards behind Bismarck. Had the other shoe finally dropped? He had done nothing wrong. He had been holed up in his office reading atrocious essays on Beowulf from his other class.
Unraveling students bewildering nested clauses to award partial credit barely left him enough time to each, much less plant explosives!
"Lamperouge," Crown Prince Lelouch corrected with an easy smile as he did every other class.
With sure steps, he passed by his classmates, briefly stopping to pick up a pencil and return it to Caspian with a dangerous smile.
Richard braced for a snide comment, but thankfully his previous humiliation seemed to have imbued Caspian with some sense.
"My essay," Crown Prince Lelouch announced, dropping a way too thick stack of papers on his podium.
Richard ran his finger across the edges. "You never turn in papers early." Then he saw the title: Diseased Nations and the Rights of Kings. "Did I offend you somehow, Your Highness?"
"Lamperouge. And no, why?"
"You seem intent on giving me a heart attack, Lamperouge." Having such a paper in his office was like inviting the Domestic Bureau of Security to investigate him.
"Why not think of it as a potential priceless artifact? It shows my appreciation for you, after all these years of teaching me English."
Richard sighed. "Take a seat. I'll mark you as tardy."
"Actually, I won't be staying." The levity in Crown Prince Lelouch's eyes had vanished. "I am merely taking the opportunity to turn in my paper before I engage in official business."
Richard swallowed, preparing to argue his own innocence when he saw the boy's gaze drift to his classmates and his stomach violently clenched.
With deadly confidence, their future Emperor walked between the desks to corner one of the boys Richard had marked as suspicious earlier.
It had to be the pamphlets. Mr. Sharpe hadn't destroyed all the copies. It couldn't be because of the attack; none of his students would engage in such awful violence… except their crown prince.
"I do love the free press, don't you, Richard?"
Richard flinched, but the crown prince wasn't looking at him. No, he was still looking at the boy. Having a common name was a pain.
"I-I didn't do anything wrong," his student stuttered. Why was he denying it? He should be on his knees begging for forgiveness. He had been caught and royals weren't merciful.
"Slandering the royal family is a serious crime. We took history last year together. I know we covered that, and what the punishment could be."
"I didn't say anything untrue!"
Richard stepped forward, "Your Highness… Must we do this here?"
"I apologize for interrupting your class, but unfortunately, he did a little more than spread lies."
The boy shook his head frankly, realizing the extent of his folly. "No. I swear I didn't. I shouldn't have written about your mother, but that's it. I'm sorry, Your Highness. I swear. I won't do it again."
"Now, why should I trust you when you're still lying to me?"
"B-But, that's the truth!"
Crown Prince Lelouch scoffed. "You and your friends interviewed Shirley the day of the attack."
"But… I had nothing to do with that!"
A show. This was a show. Someone had taken Shirley hostage, the crown prince's friend, and he now needed a show of force to dissuade anyone else from trying a similar scheme.
"I have multiple witnesses saying you and your friends chased her out of her dorm. She disappeared right after that."
The boy was shaking. There was no way he had anything to do with the attack, but innocence didn't matter.
"I-I didn't know. I swear. We didn't want to hurt her. We're not like that!"
Crown Prince Lelouch stepped back, idly sitting down on Caspian's desk. "You may take him, Bismarck."
The Knight of One violently wrenched the boy's hands behind him. His stitched eye gave his assessing look a particularly sinister quality. "I will only say this once. If anyone says or writes an ill word regarding Empress Marianne, I will kill you."
Crown Prince Lelouch cocked his head, looking puzzled as the Knight of One dragged his captive away.
Information on Empress Marianne was so hard to find. Had she been close to the Knight of One?
"Your Highness, is Shirley alright?" the girl from before asked. "She's not dead is she!"
For a moment, Crown Prince Lelouch's face softened. "She's recovering from the shock of being strapped to a bomb. She will be alright."
Horrified looks greeted that declaration. Strangely, Caspian looked quite ill. He must've liked her.
Richard took a fortifying breath. He had sworn to Ashford that he would do his best to protect the students, although he had never imagined it would mean dealing with royalty.
"Your Highness," he began, "I beg you, have mercy on them. They're young fools. You don't—They can learn."
"What's the punishment for slander?" a boy asked from the back.
Crown Prince Lelouch smirked. "Fifteen years in prison, unless it is against the royal family, in which case blasphemy laws apply. Of course, if it is part of a coordinated effort to infringe on succession or to incite rebellion, then it is considered treason. The courts tend to disagree in such cases over whose jurisdiction it is and therefore the appropriate punishment. If it's blasphemy, then it's execution by fire. If it's treason, then the judges argue over how creative they should be."
His soft words held the attention of the entire room. They were terrified. Richard was terrified.
Trembling, he knelt on the ground and pressed his forehead against the cool tiles. "Your Highness, you know he wasn't capable of being involved in something like this. Please, have mercy on him. He is a child."
"When do we stop being children, Mr. Barker?" the crown prince whispered. "The Knight of One isn't pleased with the trash he and his friends printed. I would need evidence to redirect him to another target, the one behind the attack. You have until Friday at noon, then my hands are tied."
So that was what he was after, but what information could any of the students possibly know?
"Someone in this school, let the terrorists in," the crown prince revealed. He pushed himself off his desk, briefly patting Caspian on the back. "Even if you weren't responsible for letting the terrorists in, someone had to have seen something and neglected to report it. Consider until Friday an amnesty period. Afterwards, you will be charged with obstructing an official investigation."
With that final warning and threat, the crown prince left the room. He had succeeded in planting the seeds of distrust. Each and every one of them now knew what it meant to go against the Empire.
Ten seconds later, Caspian dashed to the trash can and vomited his lunch.
As Richard slowly climbed to his feet and massaged his aching knees, he noted bitterly that the peace of the school had been destroyed.
They would leave his class filled with angry accusations, desperate to save themselves. Everyone would be guilty.
This was why Richard never wanted to go near the mainland. Such a political environment was toxic, destroying year long friendships in the pursuit of power and survival.
He should've chosen The Crucible for their unit.
Yes I accidentally named two characters Richard... XD
Next chapter time for Kallen and all that fun stuff.
Chat with me on the discord: discord . gg / MFKuCGYxcT