A Young Girl's Guerilla War

by RagnartheSemiGreen

Tanya dies in an artillery barrage on the Rhine Front, contrary to both her and Being X's plans. Unwilling to let his chew toy escape so easily, Being X reincarnates Tanya back into Japan... Six years before Britannia conquers Area 11. (First posted on Space Battles)

28. Chapter 27: A Second Attempt

(Thank you to Aminta Defender, Sunny, Restestsest, KoreanWriter, Mitch H., Rakkis157, and MetalDragon for beta-reading and editing this chapter. Thank you in particular to MetalDragon for his substantial input. They were all a huge help with this chapter, and with helping me revamp Lelouch's first appearence in this fic in Chapter 22.)

(This chapter contains some mention of religion. Please do not take this as commentary on any real world faiths, please and thank you.)

MAY 4, 2016 ATB
ASHFORD ACADEMY, TOKYO SETTLEMENT
1625

That, Lelouch thought as the gymnasium's door swung shut behind Kallen Stadtfeld, sounds like it was a long time coming.

It was all he could do to force his typical mask of serenity into place in the aftermath of Kallen's riveting performance. The newly discovered natural Knightmare talent had been magnificent in her anger, ripping into Milly with all the rage of a wolf brought to bay. Watching Milly be taken to account for hauling them both up on stage had been immensely cathartic.

And frankly, she's lucky that Kallen just settled for a spot of public humiliation. After all, he mused, the spotlight has an unfortunate habit of illuminating secrets best left in the dark.

It took Milly less than a minute to regain her composure and laugh the whole incident off, declaring it a byproduct of adrenaline overdose, effectively wiping away Kallen's social transgression from the student body's guppy-like collective memory.

"After all," Milly goaded, "if the delicate Lady Stadtfeld can manage such an upset, then surely all you big strong boys can as well!"

Predictably and perhaps naturally, the collective male ego of half of his so-called peers rankled at being upstaged in their domain of war. The usual chest-beating had ensued as boys who had already had a try with the simulators lined up anew for a second chance at glory, all under the paternal gaze of Major Pitt.

Spoiled children, the lot of them, and idiots too, Lelouch thought disgustedly. All so eager to die for the sake of That Man, who wouldn't even blink as he sacrificed ten times their number on a whim. I doubt any of them have so much as smelled the aftermath of a minor skirmish, much less a battlefield.

Certainly, none of them had walked through killing fields days after the front had moved on. Nobody who had seen the rats scrambling to their feasts would ever be so eager to find "glory" ever again.

Finally, even that fresh wave of ardor dissipated, bringing the long assembly to a conclusion. Freed from the prying eyes of his classmates, Lelouch finally gave himself license to glare at Milly from across the gymnasium, letting the weight of his displeasure be known. There were some advantages to an education in royal etiquette – abbreviated as it had been.

His outrage wasn't lost on the target of his ire, who blushed shamefacedly and all but scampered out of the gymnasium, escaping out onto the Academy's verdant quad. Lelouch was not particularly worried; he knew where she would go, and what room he would find her in.

"Lelouch," Nunnally whispered, grabbing his hand before he could pursue the fleeing Milly. Lelouch started; he hadn't even heard her wheelchair roll up beside him. "Let it go. She must have had her reasons."

"She went too far," he said, not bothering to conceal his wrath with only his sister in earshot. "I can't let it go. Not this time."

Nunnally sighed in disappointment, and his anger recoiled. "Give her a chance to explain herself then, at the very least. She is our hostess. You must not forget that."

More than her disappointment, Nunnally's admonishment stung him to the quick. The last time he had forgotten his place, they had both been sent to die in a warzone for his impertinence. What had happened once could happen again; it would only take one misstep with the Ashfords for them to decide the risk of harboring them was too great and to cast the vi Britannias back out into the cold and unforgiving outside world.

"I will come with you," Nunnally declared.

Lelouch scowled. "I don't–"

"You are reckless and relentless, Big Brother," Nunnally easily rolled over his half-spoken protest. "Your mind latches onto ideas and refuses to let them go. You do not know when to stop and you have never learned that you do not need to achieve victory to avoid losing."

"Draws are irritating," Lelouch grumbled, but the anger was already withdrawing, allowing him to breathe easily once more. Somehow, whenever they squabbled, Nunnally always won.

He could never deny her anything she wanted. Except, of course, the one thing that she truly wants.

He sighed and began walking towards the gymnasium's exit, Nunnally easily keeping by his side in her chair. This was, he had to admit, her fight as well. There was no point trying to keep her out of it now. Besides, she had been just as threatened by Milly's foolhardy antics as he had; she had every right to claim her pound of flesh, should she so choose. "Very well."

"I happen to like draws," his darling sister said cheerfully as they left the gym, still lined with the simulator pods, behind them.

"Of course you do," he said indulgently, shaking his head.

She has always lacked the killer instinct. It's for the best.

"I think it's quite balanced," Nunnally insisted, somehow just as aware of his thoughts as always. "Both sides survive and work together to reach a mutually agreeable solution."

He bit down on his sarcastic rebuke. She could afford to be happy in her innocence. They were not at court, where such idealism brought only ruin and was harshly punished at every turn.

What would they do to you, Nunnally? I can never let it happen. Never. He felt his anger returning and forced himself to focus on his sister's chatter instead.

"It's like two birds building a nest!" She said by way of explanation, "they both need to help out or it doesn't work for either of them!"

"It is fortunate," he jibed, entirely unable to stop himself, "that birds don't go to war."

"Lelouch!" The swat on his wrist was practically avian in its insubstantiality, in its frailty.

She is so weak, and so horribly, horribly fragile…

"Sorry, sorry," he begged her forgiveness with a laugh, "but were a bird to betray its mate, then-"

"Lelouch!" Nunnally huffed and accelerated her motorized wheelchair. "You are far too young to be a grouchy old man. They're birds! They're cute. And have beautiful songs. And they do this most wonderful mating dance…"

Just like Milly, flamboyantly vibrant and dancing just out of the reach of her many suitors and admirers. Maybe if she wasn't so distracted with her petty displays and distractions, he could be enjoying the day like the students sprawled out across the luxurious campus, enjoying the bright sun of a late spring afternoon. Maybe he could focus on his sister and her recitation of all that she knew about birds instead of wondering what sounds Milly would make upon a rack.

My mother was gentle and kind, for all that her enemies hated her. His thoughts were cold and distant, but far from clinically detached. And yet, for all that they hated her, they feared the Flash both for her battlefield skills and for her inventive punishments. Perhaps some of her old tricks would help Milly learn? After all, even apt students require correction. Perhaps her scheming would be aided by a taste of the courtly fear so endemic amongst the true nobility…

Lost in his dark thoughts, Lelouch was almost surprised to find himself in front of the pink-painted door of the Student Council's favorite conference room, on the first floor of the Clubhouse.

"Lelouch," Nunnally spoke up from beside him, tugging insistently at his jacket sleeve. "Hey Lelouch! She's inside already. Remember–"

The burnished handle of the conference room door beckoned. The bronze was warm under his hand. "I know. We owe the Ashfords a great deal."

A great deal indeed. Reuben had been good to them for years; his loyalty to their deceased mother stretching far beyond anything Lelouch found explicable. The only rationale Lelouch could assign to the old man's protection was his political aspirations. It was so easy to go from being in someone's debt to being under their thumb, and if Lelouch or Nunnally ascended the throne under the Ashford patriarch's supervision, all that his house had lost and more would be theirs once again.

But that was far off in the distance, a long shot at best. Here in the present, Milly was the anointed heir to the Ashford holdings, what remained of them, her disappointing parents passed over. Lelouch and Nunnally, on the other hand, were worse than useless to the Ashfords; they were active liabilities unless that long shot paid off.

And so it behooves me to remember my place. Not that such wisdom has ever truly held me back, oh no, perish the thought. Just like how Nunnally and I nearly perished because of my foolish pride.

"Good afternoon, Madame President."

"Lelouch..." From the head of the table, Milly smiled at them, a strained, bleached thing. "And Nunnally."

Nunnally's smile was a potent weapon indeed, Lelouch knew from long experience. It could be as sweet and treacherous as an angel's lie and just as barbed as any fishhook when her occasional fey moods took her. Now, that guileless expression was cutting as it smoothly transitioned from polite greeting to disappointed pity.

"Would you perhaps elucidate your thought process this afternoon?" Lelouch asked, his tone as polished as any of That Man's lickspittle courtiers. "I had not been informed that I would be called upon to fulfill my duties as the Vice President, nor that such duties included being paraded before one of His Majesty's glorious and honorable men."

"Does any man ever really know when duty will call?" Milly replied, aiming for breezy but shooting into tempestuous.

The tension in the room undermined her attempt to inject levity. Lelouch simply remained patiently silent, aware of his sister's presence at his arm.

After a moment, Milly tried again. "Look, it's been a stressful day for all of us. I'm not feeling particularly splendid at the moment myself. I don't suppose there's any chance we can pick this up later?"

That, Lelouch decided, was the wrong answer.

"Millicent Ashford," he ground out, manners held only by a thread and the light touch of fingers on his hand, "there is no time quite like the present to discuss just how little I care about how splendid or otherwise you are feeling. You damn near served Nunnally and me up to the Army today, on the inaugural Vi Britannia Day of all possible days! Do you understand what you put at risk with your ingenious plan?"

"Do you understand what I had at stake?" Milly shot back, her voice high and thrumming with tension. "Do you think Grandpa and I just let the Army show up on a whim? Absolutely not! They applied pressure, and we were given the choice of participation or investigation!"

Milly's voice had begun to creep upwards towards a high, almost hysterical note.

"That joyless prig of a major showed up just this morning in my grandfather's office," she continued, "with an entire truckload of simulators parked outside and a letter with the Viceregal-Governor's seal requesting we consider partnering with the Army to open a ROTC branch on campus! When Grandpa declined, Pitt threatened to investigate our lack of patriotism and determine whether Ashford Academy required new leadership!"

She's terrified, Lelouch realized, noticing how Milly's perfectly manicured hands had curled into tight white-knuckled balls as she had ranted. Pitt must have made quite the impression.

Fear is a disease, and Lelouch had to resist succumbing to Milly's anxiety as he imagined what sort of pressure Major Pitt must have brought to bear to convince Ruben Ashford. "And what," he quietly replied, "did he demand in exchange for withholding the investigation, Milly? I assume consideration was not the half of it."

"A branch of the ROTC opened on campus with dedicated grounds, which means the Equestrian Club can kiss their back pasture goodbye," Milly replied, ticking items off her fingers, "a seat for the leader of the ROTC in student government to incentivize participation and ensure that a properly patriotic voice is present, the enthusiastic participation of the student body in any recruitment events, and rubber-stamp approval for any would-be recruits who wish to leave school to join the Army directly.

"Oh, and of course, a small remuneratory gift for Major Pitt himself," Milly concluded with a bitter smile, "just to reward him for his excellent work, you understand."

"Quite," Lelouch replied mirthlessly, "the price of doing business. And in exchange for all of that? What did you secure from that masterfully negotiated transaction?"

"Don't be difficult, Lulu," Milly sighed, leaning back in her chair. The tension had almost disappeared from her voice, concealed by her usual honeyed tones. "Ashford Academy is still Ashford Academy, and will remain free of prying eyes."

"Splendid," Lelouch replied only half sarcastically, "our secret remains our own for another day. Assuming, of course, that Pitt did not recognize me when you hauled me up on stage, an action that seemingly completely undermines your goal to avoid the attention of the authorities."

He would have continued, had the fingers that rested lightly on his wrist not tightened and pulled, dragging Lelouch's attention away from the Ashford heiress.

"Peace, Big Brother." Nunnally's firm command was unsoftened by the sweet tones of the delivery. "Milly is our hostess and our friend, and I am sure she is doing her best in a stressful situation."

"As you say, Nunnally," the delicate fingers loosened on his wrist, and Lelouch turned back to Milly. "I apologize for my disrespect. My point stands, however; what possessed you to haul me up on stage, Milly? What were you thinking? Elevating my profile amongst the school body is one thing, but bringing me to the attention of an Army officer?"

Milly sagged in her chair. "That was not my intention, Lelouch, but… I saw the lack of enthusiasm, and I saw Pitt pulling out his notebook… I had promised him the enthusiastic participation of the students, and they were all shying away, all afraid of the possible humiliation… I had to find something to goad them on with." She gave him a strained smile. "You were the first thing I thought of, and I saw a way to get everybody's blood back up."

As Milly had recounted the pressure Major Pitt had applied, Lelouch had been temporarily distracted from his anger by the implications of the apparent new recruiting push by the forces garrisoning Area 11. The fact that, according to Milly, Pitt had shown up with a letter bearing the official seal of the Viceregal-Governor's Office all but guaranteed that this project, whatever it was, had the personal blessing of Clovis la Britannia.

The Student Council President's admission that she had pulled him out from the cover of the crowd onto the stage immediately brought that anger back to the surface.

"I repeat," Lelouch asked, voice heated, "what were you thinking, Milly?"

"I was thinking about all of the other students, Lelouch!" As always, Milly rose to the challenge. "You two might be the biggest secret I'm keeping, but you're far from the only! If Pitt brings his so-called 'suspicions' to the attention of the military police, they would be crawling all over the Academy in hours! How many of our students do you think are holding, Lulu? I can tell you if you'd like! And it's not just drugs! How many do you think have 'questionable literature' in their lockers?"

"Probably quite a few," Lelouch grudgingly conceded. "Nothing quite like flirting with danger to give a sheltered life meaning, I suppose."

"Indeed!" Milly nodded. "You should know, Mister Illicit Gambler! And once just one of those lockers is found, we will no longer have to worry about the military police because the IDSS will be on hand to investigate potential subversion! And I am sure that you know that, as soon as the witch-hunt begins, there will somehow be plenty of witches to find! Tell me, Lelouch, how long do you think the Academy you live at would remain open if half of the faculty were arrested for subversion and perverting the minds of the youth with unapproved doctrine?"

"If you had just told me before the assembly, we could have worked something out!" Lelouch retorted, temper barely restrained by the gentle fingers on his wrist. "If you had told me a display of enthusiasm was required, I would have primed Rivalz and Shirley and made sure they were at the head of the line. Even if they botched their own simulations, they would have had the sense not to publicly complain about it. And they don't have secrets in need of concealment."

"That would have worked," Milly admitted with a moderately ashamed smile. "But I was panicking, you know? I mean, how was I to know that one of the most incompetent pilots in the whole school would be the first up? And how was I to know that the students would be so fickle? They had the opportunity to pilot Knightmares! Why would I expect them to just wimp out like that?"

"Why would you go into any high-stakes engagement without a fallback plan?" Lelouch riposted. "Why would you stake your family's security and our lives on the reactions of a group of children?"

"Brother!" This time, Nunnally didn't bother veiling the iron with velvet. "You will remember your manners; this is a discussion between equals and friends, and I will not hear either of you raise your voices. Am I clear?"

Reluctantly, Lelouch nodded, noting Milly follow suit from the corner of his eye.

"Thank you. Now," Nunnally turned her smiling face, distinctly chillier than normal, back towards Milly. "Millicent Ashford, I am disappointed in you. I expected better. A lady does not panic. A lady always has a plan. Title or not, you are a lady, and I expected you to conduct yourself as such."

And most of the idiots at this school think Nunnally is the nice Lamperouge sibling, Lelouch thought sympathetically as Milly all but crumbled at the calm dismissal. Nunnally's only nice as long as you don't make her angry.

"I… I know," Milly said with a wince, "I just… panicked. I thought about soldiers ransacking the Academy, and all the students who I know would get arrested… and Grandpa losing everything he managed to save after Her Highness died…"

"And you thought about what you would be losing yourself, should Ashford Academy close," Nunnally continued, remorseless despite her dulcet tones. "After all, the Academy is just as much a refuge for you as it is from us. Why, it was only last week that your parents called about another potential suitor they had found, was it not? Surely you cannot put them off for much longer, Milly."

"Yes!" Milly half said, half screamed. "Yes! I don't want to be married off by my stupid parents, and the Academy's the only place where I have anything close to freedom! I don't want to see that get ruined because of some stupid political game the stupid prince is playing! I'm sorry! I'm sorry that I didn't warn you two, and I'm sorry that I pulled you up on stage, Lelouch!"

"Apology accepted," Lelouch cut in before his sister could speak, "by us both. Just please, Milly, do better next time."

I can't deny her anything, he thought wryly, but I can't deny that Nunnally definitely got some of That Man's cruelty as well as Mother's sweetness. His hypocrisy as well; she called me out for my anger at Milly, but she would hurt her far worse than I ever could.

"Regardless," he continued, striving for something like detachment, "what is done is done, and now we must adjust to recent developments. The most important one being the ticking time bomb in our midst."

"Bomb?" Milly stared at him, outwardly incredulous but with fear flickering in her eyes. "Lelouch, after the day I've had, I am far too drained for any more overly dramatic theatrics-"

"I fear that, unless we handle the matter carefully, that bomb will become all too literal," Lelouch said, cutting her off. "And frankly, Milly, I am surprised that you are so readily willing to dismiss this threat when you are the one who set her up to explode in all of our faces."

"Set her…?" Milly asked, frowning in confusion.

Then it hit her.

"Kallen?!" The Student Council President reeled back with a gasp. "I-I mean, I know what she did on stage was a bit…" a flicker of hurt tugged at the corner of her mask. "...harsh, but what on earth does that have to do with bombs, Lulu?"

"You truly do not know?" Lelouch raised a challenging brow. "She seems to have quite the clear opinion of your machinations. Given that we just discussed how many dangerous secrets of the student body you are privy to, I am amazed that you somehow failed to notice exactly what your newest toy was hiding when you decided to play with her. Quite the oversight, Milly."

"Machinations?!" Milly all but squawked in protest. "Lelouch, I'm not some kind of scheming puppet master who treats people like toys! Besides, she liked it!"

"...You feel that you do not treat people as if they were toys?" Asked Lelouch, leveling a deeply unimpressed glare at Ashford's Queen.

Something about the way he'd said that made Milly hesitate. "...N-no?"

"Then," Lelouch pressed inexorably on, "what do you believe prompted today's performance?"

"I told you," Milly exclaimed, "they forced my hand and I panicked! I already apologized for that!"

"Yes, for dragging me on stage, but what about Kallen? Not to mention," Lelouch pointed out, "that while this time you were pressured into acting, you have pulled the entire Academy into some impromptu game purely for your own amusement time and again. An outburst like that is not the product of a single squandered afternoon."

"I'm just trying to inject a little fun into people's lives, that's all!" Milly said, defending herself. "School life is so dreary and all the formals that young nobles have to attend are ridiculously stuffy! There's gotta be more to that to make young life worth living! The students need more! They need a little adventure!"

"...Adventure?" Lelouch quietly asked, a cold prickling sensation seeming to dribble over his skin. For a moment, he was almost eleven again, filthy and hungry and bone-weary. "You believe they need adventure to give their lives form?"

"Yes," Milly nodded definitively. "Adventure, Lelouch. Life, fun, parties, excitement. Teens who aren't sticks in the mud like you happen to love the shows I put on for them."

"Indeed…" Lelouch replied, "Kallen seems to have really enjoyed your approach to morale-boosting activities for the student body. I believe she made that quite clear today."

"I don't get it!" Milly groaned, flushing red at the memory of Kallen's adamant rejection. "She always enjoyed everything else I did! Why did she just suddenly flip out this time? And in front of everybody! Geez!"

Lelouch felt dread shiver down his spine in icy tendrils. "...Milly, what exactly do you mean by 'everything else'?"

"Oh, you know," Milly said offhandedly, "I saw Kallen was trying to break into the more popular circles, so I gave her a hand." A salacious grin slipped onto her lips. "Well… maybe a few. Even a prude like you has to admit she's filled out quite nicely!"

An almost spiritual exhaustion washed over Lelouch as he slowly blinked at Milly.

"...So," he finally replied once Milly's words had sunk in, "you have been giving Kallen the Shirley treatment for the past… what… Seven months now? Eight?" Lelouch rubbed at his forehead. "How are you still alive, Milly? No, do not bother answering. I am shocked it took this long for Stadtfeld to finally snap. Frankly, it is a miracle that no one has died yet."

"How was I supposed to know she wasn't having fun?" Milly plaintively asked, almost wailing. "I thought she was having fun! People have fun around me! I'm a fun person!"

"Clearly not according to Kallen," Lelouch replied acidly, "otherwise, I doubt she would have registered her opinion of you quite so publicly or vehemently."

"If she didn't like how I treated her, why didn't she just tell me? I thought I was doing exactly what she wanted! She was just trying to be popular and wanted my help, so I helped!" Milly sounded genuinely baffled. "I mean, I'm super approachable! I try to be super approachable!"

"And who," Lelouch asked, "would dare to tell the Academy's Queen that she had stepped out of line?"

Hurt flashed across Milly's face, gone as fast as it had appeared, but Lelouch had still caught the crack in her affable mask. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," she rebutted.

"Really, Milly?" Lelouch sighed. "You are the Student Council President, as well as the granddaughter of the Principal, who is also the Chairman of the Board of Regents for the school," he shook his head as he carefully explained the obvious. "The teachers never put up so much as a peep when you make an announcement – if every authority figure here bends the knee to you, why would any of the students assume you would listen or care about any objections they might voice?"

She may not be a bad person, Lelouch mused, but Milly is absolutely a spoiled brat. Perhaps this will give her a reason to grow, now that she understands that she can truly hurt people in her enthusiasm.

For a moment, he thought he'd gotten through.

The hurt blossomed into indignation.

"Wait a second! That's not something you just came up with!" Milly leaned forwards over the table, an accusing finger jabbing aggressively at Lelouch. "You knew! You knew people weren't talking to me because they were scared I'd tattle to Grandpa! Why didn't you tell me people weren't having fun?"

"Because I did not want to interrupt your game?" Lelouch raised a puzzled eyebrow. "Are you implying that I should have stepped in and advised you that most boys do not like being forced into mandatory cross-dressing and most girls do not, in fact, like having their breasts 'honked' from behind by way of greeting?"

"Yes!" A tinge of heat touched Milly's cheekbones, unshed tears pooling in her eyes. "Yes, Lulu, that would have been good to know! I thought that they were having fun! Why did you think I was doing it?"

"...Well, given the way you smile when you grab at people? It seemed obvious that you enjoyed flaunting your dominance over the student body via pseudo-sexual displays as well as demonstrations of authority. I mean, why else would you molest everyone like you owned them? Or constantly interrupt classes for impromptu events dominated by your vivacious personality?" Lelouch scanned the frowning Ashford's face, and then looked down into the very unimpressed glare Nunnally was shooting his way. "I take it that this was not, in fact, the case?"

"Why did you…" Milly shook her head, a frustrated growl slipping out. "Right! Right, right. Raised at the Imperial Court, and then thrown to the wolves. Of course you would see it all as dominance games."

What on Earth would all that have been, if not elaborate dominance games? Lelouch wondered, momentarily baffled.

"No, Lelouch, that was not what I was trying to do. In fact, that was the opposite of what I was trying to accomplish!" Milly huffed and looked away, but she couldn't hide the tremor in her voice. "I just… I just wanted people to have fun! Is that so wrong?"

Lelouch didn't know what to say to that. And now I feel like the bastard here. How did she manage that?

"Did you ever ask what they want?" Nunnally's calm voice sliced through the awkward silence.

"A-ask?" Milly turned back to give the younger girl a confused look. Lelouch carefully didn't notice the unshed tears at the corners of her eyes. "What are you talking about? I ask them all the time!"

"With all due respect, Milly, you do not," Nunnally carefully rebutted, her closed eyes somehow fixed unerringly on Milly's own. "You ask them with all the sincerity of a velvet-wrapped fist. When Milicent Ashford asks her subjects if they would like a party, everyone knows what the Queen of the Academy wants as her answer. Who would risk denying her?"

Milly opened her mouth to argue, but Nunnally continued relentlessly on, an unstoppable force in a frail body. "When you play your games, do you ever pause to consider what others truly want? Or do you only think about what you desire? If you do not ask people what they want and give them the latitude to answer honestly, you cannot truly claim to have given them a voice."

That comment, uttered in soft soprano, brought Milly up short. For a moment, neither Lelouch nor Milly could say anything, each silent for their own reasons.

She has truly grown, hasn't she? Lelouch mused, gazing at his sister with fresh eyes. Even if she speaks with the conviction of naivety, her eloquence befits the royal rank stolen from her. Nunnally… When did you begin to grow so fierce?

He sighed. I suppose even a bird with broken wings can develop sharp spurs… But please, save your spurs for a more deserving target. Even our best intentions can put us on the path to hell if we do not mind our step. Milly has not quite learned that as of yet.

Unfortunately ignorant of his silent plea, Nunnally was far from done.

"Now, Big Brother," Nunnally's sightless gaze turned back to him, "what was this about Kallen being a 'ticking time bomb'?"

Milly stiffened at the reminder. Lelouch felt dread pool in his gut.

Pointing this out felt like a win before, Lelouch thought as he silently apologized to Milly. Now, it just feels cruel.

But the last thing Milly needs right now is more coddling… And the potential threat is far from insignificant.

"Right… well…" Lelouch rolled the words around in his head, trying to figure out a way to phrase what had to be said in a manner that would let Milly down gently.

He failed.

"I have reason to believe that Kallen may be, perhaps, a Japanese insurgent."

Despite her closed lids, Lelouch imagined he could almost see the violet eyes he remembered from their youth, a perfect match to his own. In that imagined image, his darling little sister's gaze bore down upon him with the same fell intensity that his mother could bring to bear, easily winkling the truth out of him no matter how he tried to prevaricate his way to safety.

"Oh?" Nunnally cocked her head, furthering her almost owl-like impression as if she were able to pick him apart by sound alone. "And pray tell, Big Brother, why on Earth would you think that?"

"Detecting her nature was far from easy, and I was forced to draw upon many sources to reach that conclusion," Lelouch admitted. "She first came to my attention when I thought she was a spy for Clovis. By the way, she most definitely is not, but in clearing her of that charge, I incidentally discovered several factors that lead me to believe that she is probably half-Japanese and, if not an outright insurgent, then a sympathizer to their cause."

"Big Brother, did you spy on Lady Stadtfeld due to another fit of paranoia?" Nunnally shook her head, clearly disappointed. "I had rather thought you had learned your lesson, after the unfortunate incident with the plumber."

"That plumber had it coming! He was-!" Lelouch caught the look on Milly's face and stopped himself before he got sidetracked even further. "Regardless," he continued with a cough, "while I admit that my initial assumption was incorrect, I do not regret investigating her, not after what I found."

"Oh? And what did you find, Big Brother?" Nunnally was still clearly signaling disappointment, but Lelouch could detect an edge of interest in her familiar voice. "I certainly hope that all of your snooping yielded at least something of substance."

"I began by searching the database of the Administration's Ministry of Justice," Lelouch said, skipping over the tedious process of socially engineering his entrance into said database. "I wanted to see if she had come to anybody else's notice. Indeed, she has come to the attention of the Knightpolice, who have a log of her comings and goings through the checkpoints into Shinjuku." He allowed himself a smile. "She makes very frequent visits, it would seem."

"That… That's kinda troubling," Milly replied, a hint of a quaver in her voice. "Not that she's visiting the Ghetto for whatever reason, but that the police are already tracking her movements. Does… Does that mean she's already…"

"Already as good as dead?" Lelouch chuckled. "No, not quite. For some inexplicable reason, her file has been marked as a classified object, as well as a case not to be investigated. All of the additions and recent edits were made by automated systems monitoring traffic through the checkpoints. Her records are, for all intents and purposes, clean."

"Her records…" Milly interrupted in a haunted voice. Lelouch, taken off-guard by her hollow tone, blinked. "Her school records… They're doctored, aren't they? Kallen's really a bastard?"

"You knew?" Lelouch asked.

"I… suspected?" Milly offered him a mirthless smile. "It's not exactly that rare these days. Children born out of wedlock or to the 'wrong' parents get quietly legitimized fairly often. There are more than a few students at the Academy who share her burden. For some, it's something of an open secret, for others, a buried shame. For Kallen, I just figured…"

Milly trailed off, at a clear loss for words, before eventually shrugging helplessly. "I guess I just thought it wasn't a big deal. She doesn't act like someone who hates her parents, you know?"

"But…" she sighed, "I suppose her being Japanese would explain her fixation on Eleven and Honorary Britannian issues as a journalist. Not to mention her work with the Rising Sun Association."

"So you know about that as well?" Lelouch asked, surprised.

"Rivalz told me." Milly gave him a sad smile. "He talks to me a lot, you know. He's very proud of that charity, and he told me all about how he may have set it up, but it was Kallen's idea. About how much she runs it. About how passionate she is about helping the Elevens… all because I asked him."

Milly's smile turned brittle and for a moment it looked like she was about to say something, but at the last moment, she bit her lip and looked away.

"I see…" Lelouch organized his thoughts. "Well, did he mention that Kallen also speaks fluent Japanese in a Shitamachi dialect? The native Tokyo dialect," he quickly explained, seeing Milly's baffled expression, "the one especially used by the middle and lower classes pre-Conquest."

Milly made a noncommittal sound. "Not quite… I mean, he said that he heard her speaking in Japanese once and that she sounded pretty smooth, but Rivalz obviously doesn't speak it himself… If she is a half-breed… I suppose it makes sense she'd speak her mother tongue."

"By any chance," Lelouch asked, "did he mention that the Rising Sun Benevolent Association is almost certainly a front for insurrectionists?"

Milly's head snapped up, fear blazing in her eyes. "What?!"

"By any chance, did Rivalz mention that Kallen had a little confrontation with a group of thugs at one of their outdoor soup kitchens the other day?" Lelouch mused aloud. At Milly's confirming nod, he continued, "I was watching when that happened. Those were no mere thugs; I have absolutely no doubt that they were Honorary Britannian soldiers out of uniform and that the members of Rising Sun were entirely prepared to shoot them."

Lelouch's fist clenched at the memory of that thing wearing his dear friend's face. Oh Suzaku, what has happened to you?

"Even if they were garden variety criminals," Lelouch continued, "the fact that Japanese, Elevens to be precise, had access to guns and the capacity to smuggle them through the Ghetto's checkpoints indicates that they are either a highly organized criminal group or affiliated with one of the myriad factions of the Japanese Resistance. Considering their charitable actions outside their native territory of Shinjuku, I am inclined towards the latter."

Although, somebody had to have put that hold on Kallen's official file, somebody with sufficient access to tamper with its classification. That does not sound like something the Japanese rebels up in the mountains would be capable of, and if they were, I doubt that they would use their skills to cover for a half-breed. Which might indicate that somebody's on the take inside the Administration, hinting at potential criminal activity…

"Given that Rivalz neglected to mention your presence as well, I am willing to venture that you had been following Lady Stadtfeld in disguise," Nunnally stated, shooting him a disappointed look. "My Big Brother, stalking young maidens through the streets like some sad, desperate beast…"

Nunnally let out a long, hopeless sigh that actually managed to tug at Lelouch's heart, to his great irritation.

…Maybe I should do less creeping about? Lelouch wondered, then tried to shake the thought from his head. No, no! I'm not going to let my sister chide me into being less thorough! …Even if it would make her happier… No! This manipulation is as blatant as it is cheap! You will have to do better than that, my darling little sister!

"Regardless," Lelouch continued out loud, "what Rivalz likely further failed to notice is that, while Kallen was standing up to the soldiers, all of her Japanese companions were preparing to kill at her command." He locked eyes with Milly, trying to impress upon her the implications of that moment. "They weren't just subtly reaching below their aprons for guns, others were taking quiet steps to flank the soldiers. All of them hanging on Kallen's every word, ready to react immediately.

"I have no doubt that if Kallen had so wished, or if those soldiers had attempted to harm her, none of them would have left that park alive."

Lelouch leaned back and let the words sit.

For her part, Milly looked shaken. It hurt Lelouch to see his normally vivacious friend in such a state, no doubt suddenly worried and acutely aware of her own mortality. Nunnally, however, merely seemed thoughtful.

"Enlightening as this is, none of it means that Lady Stadtfeld is partially Japanese by birth. After all, much of your evidence could describe us equally well, as far as our 'official records' and our familiarities with the local tongue go," Nunnally pointed out, "and just because she has earned the loyalty of the locals does not make her a native."

"True," Lelouch conceded, "and I will admit that she certainly doesn't look Japanese, not even a jot. At this point, however, I would argue that the distinction is irrelevant. Whatever the case, Kallen is tightly bound to a group willing to open fire on a group of obvious soldiers if they posed a threat to her. That's not the kind of loyalty or dedication that just comes from an ordinary charity, and certainly not the kind of loyalty a teenage noble can earn in a few months."

"Hmm… If she is the one truly responsible for creating this organization, one that just so happened to employ dedicated Japanese, instead of Honorary Britannians who could easily become indebted to her…" Nunnally hummed thoughtfully as she trailed off, tapping her chair with her free hand as she considered the possibilities. "I still say Kallen has a good heart, but I do understand the reasons for your concern, Big Brother."

"So, to conclude," Lelouch said, "Kallen has somehow acquired the loyalty of a group of Japanese insurgents, a loyalty that is reciprocated, probably due to her mixed blood. Despite her obviously shaky loyalty to the Empire, the Peelers have been convinced through some unknown method to look the other way on her… indiscretions. This already made her a very dangerous person before our very own Major Pitt revealed her to be a natural ace Knightmare pilot. She is also very clearly a deeply angry person.

"I trust," Lelouch said, looking around the room, "that you understand my concerns."

"Well… maybe she can be talked around?" Milly's tone betrayed her desperation. "I mean, if she's got people she's close with, maybe… Maybe she isn't out for revenge? I mean, surely she's got better targets then… then…"

"...Then a school crammed with the children of the moneyed elite profiting off her people's suffering?" Lelouch finished for her. "No, Milly… I… I remember that day, that month… I remember…"

The smoke filled the sky, entire cities turned into mass funeral pyres, carrying the souls of murdered millions up to their impotent goddess. The feral dogs yelping and burrowing into the rubble, slat-sided with hunger. The stench of decay wafted up from those holes into the unquiet tombs of the dead, homes smashed down by distant cruel hands onto entire families, wiping out lineages in moments.

"She will want her revenge," Lelouch continued, speaking just as much to explain the danger to Milly as to keep his throat open, his tongue moving, his mind distracted from memories now six years old. "However kind her heart may be, the ruin Britannia has likely brought to her has certainly given her ample cause to hate the Empire with all her soul. Considering the damage the Empire has inflicted, can you blame her for such anger?"

"Big Brother…" Nunnally said, an unbearably sad look on her face as she took his hand in both of hers. "You don't know that. You are merely speculating. Not everyone is out for revenge, some people just want to help a noble cause."

"In this instance, dear sister, I worry that the difference between those two is not so clear cut," Lelouch replied with a heavy heart. "Even if Kallen were a saint, it is not as if Britannia has not provided her with a bounty of sinners against which she can direct her righteous anger."

"Including me," Milly muttered in a hollow voice. "This whole time, I've just been convincing her to hate me, haven't I?"

"I…would not put it quite like that, but…" Lelouch grimaced. It was difficult to deny the obvious.

"But what else can I say?" Milly snarled. "If Kallen is Japanese, then everything I've been doing to be 'nice' has done nothing but make me the face of everything she probably hates about us!"

"We don't know that!" Lelouch hastily pointed out, briefly wondering how he had become the one arguing against pessimistic paranoia. "All my evidence is circumstantial at best! I'll admit, it could be a problem, but-"

"But she said it herself!" Milly cried. "She hates me for being a puppet master! Because I-" Milly cut herself off with a choked sob. "Nunnally was right, I never asked what she wanted. I never really thought about who Kallen was or what her heart was like. I just… forced myself on her, like Britannia forced itself on her life."

"When she was about to go up onto that stage today, I…I said she was growing into a splendid young Britannian flower, Lelouch," Milly looked up, eyes haunted by the realization. "If she's the ticking time bomb you think she is, I'm the one who's been winding her up."

Lelouch found his victory over Milly utterly cold, the taste sickening in his mouth.

"Well… I must say that Kallen seems to have a commendable reservoir of self-control," Nunnally commented half a minute later, making a valiant attempt to break the silence and force the conversation back on track. "Kallen, excuse me, Lady Stadtfeld, that is. Truly impressive. It will take a meaningful apology to make this right."

"Well… I suppose that is the next topic, regardless of what Kallen is actually up to outside of school grounds," Lelouch replied, pulling out a chair and taking a seat next to his sister at the table. "I do not believe that a simple sorry is going to be enough here; we need to offer Kallen something of value to both make things right, and to avoid any… lapse in control."

"It's probably best if I'm not the one to deliver that apology," Milly said gloomily, "I… I don't think she'd take it well. Lelouch?"

"I would be happy to help you out, Madam President," he replied, earning a pleased smile from Nunnally. "I can deliver that apology when I welcome her onto the Student Council. It would probably be best if that welcome were a one-on-one affair; Lady Stadtfeld does not strike me as a party person. Certainly not a fan of surprise parties, above all else."

"...Yes, probably for the best," Milly agreed, an admission that must have hurt coming from the party queen herself. "So, what do you get for a noble lady who hates her country?"

For a moment, Lelouch entertained the idea of giving an honest answer. Between the Ashford's assets, their own checkered history with the throne, and their ex-noble status, he supposed something could be arranged. After all, the Ashford Patriarch had already committed sedition when he had kept the vi Britannias hidden, instead of handing them back over to That Man.

Of course, that's a rather simplistic way of evaluating the matter; aiding a pair of disinherited royals is a far cry from providing material support to a Number rebellion.

"If I might make a suggestion," Nunnally chimed in, "she would almost certainly appreciate some help with her records, as well as a copy of our current file for her own perusal. Especially since Big Brother was easily able to find some discrepancies. It would demonstrate a willingness to help her secrets stay just that – secret."

"That would be easy to accomplish," Lelouch added, with Milly nodding in agreement. "Honestly, I could probably go even further with the same idea; if the Knightpolice have already been told not to investigate the contents of her folder, I doubt anybody would pay much attention to some subtle editing of the contents. After all, there is really no reason for our earnest protectors to know when a young lady chooses to visit her family, is there?"

"None at all, Big Brother," Nunnally agreed with an angelic smile. "Indeed, I feel like those gentlemen were quite crass in their observation of Lady Stadtfeld. Do you think you could help them make amends for their indiscretions?"

"That could be a bit more difficult," Lelouch admitted, rubbing his chin, "but on the other hand, the Peelers have never been the best at information security. I happened to hear that Kallen's pet "benevolent association" was experiencing some money problems… Do you think a donation would be adequate amends, dear sister?"

"Oh? Just happened to hear that, did you?" Milly smirked from her end of the table. "You certainly were very thorough in your investigations, weren't you, Lulu? You really probed Kallen's background very deeply…"

Lelouch ignored Milly's harmless provocations and stood up from the table. "And on that note, I believe we have a plan. Milly, you owe me for this."

"Sure, sure." The languid mask of the Queen Bee of Ashford was well and truly back in place. "You know I'm always happy to do anything that might make you happy, Lelouch."

"Except, of course, for your own share of the Council's paperwork," Nunally interjected helpfully. "Really, Milly, it is quite rude how much of Big Brother's time you take up. I need some Lelouch time as well! And Sayoko is ever so sad when he stays out late, slaving over the budget!"

"Hey, that's not because of me!" Milly protested with faux indignation. "You should check some smokey den of gamblers and thieves if you really want to make Sayoko happy by having him back by curfew!"

Being the master of strategy that he was, Lelouch knew instantly that there was no way to fend off the combined teasing efforts of his sister and his hostess. "I will get started on our conciliatory gift to Kallen," he said, retreating from the conference room, "plenty of work to be done, after all. A good day to you both, Madam President, Madam Junior President."

Nunnally's peals of delighted laughter followed him out into the hallway as the door swung shut, and Lelouch smiled at the sound as he began trudging his way back up to the apartment. He sincerely hoped that Kallen would enjoy the gift and take it in the spirit intended, burying the hatchet. He quite liked Milly and enjoyed how Nunnally came alive around her.

It would be a shame if it became necessary to prevent Kallen from disturbing that happiness.

MAY 6, 2016 ATB
ASHFORD ACADEMY, TOKYO SETTLEMENT
1240

The view from the roof of Ashford Academy was, as always, distinctly lacking, in Lelouch's opinion. The trendier neighborhoods of the Tokyo Settlement, home to the upper crust of the commons and the lower orders of the nobility, stretched out to the east towards the looming edifice of the Britannian Concession squatting atop its gargantuan platform. Looking out from the roof of the Science Wing, a casual viewer could believe themselves back in the Homeland.

Britannia, as far as the eye can see! So much progress yet so little taste. So much construction, yet utterly devoid of anything that could be called architecture.

It would almost be farcical if it were not for all the bones beneath the foundations of those shining halls, not to mention the jagged spires of broken Tokyo, still rusting in place, six years after the old city's murder.

To the north, the prosperous neighborhoods extended a bit further before gradually tapering off into the more working-class neighborhoods and finally out into the Honorary Britannian districts. Barely visible over the hodgepodge of two to four-story structures, residential and industrial and commercial all jumbled up, the walls of the Shinjuku Ghetto cowered against the horizon, peeping out towards the Concession like a dog afraid of being beaten.

How ironic that the walls of the ghetto were raised by those caged within? The same hands that laid down the piling for the stilts also poured the concrete slabs that were raised around their refugee camp turned open-air prison.

Lelouch often came up to the roof to think. He had always had an affinity for high places, even back in childhood, when he had scrambled onto the widow's walk atop the Aries Palace to survey the grounds. He had watched the chain gangs of newly christened Elevens raise the walls around Shinjuku five years ago, standing on the roof of the expropriated home purchased by Ruben Ashford as his temporary residence. He had wondered then if one of the tiny figures toiling away was Suzaku, beaten and forced into submission.

I had half-hoped that would be the case, for it would have meant that he was still alive. I suppose in a way that hope has been fulfilled. I suppose there is a lesson in that, if I squint hard enough to see it.

Four days ago, Lelouch had seen his best friend again for the first time in years. It had not been the reunion he had dreamt of; although Suzaku was Nunnally's friend as well, Lelouch had yet to tell her that he had seen the other boy alive and… well, he supposed.

At the very least, Lelouch thought, leaning on the railing guarding the roof's edge, I saw that he was alive. I am not sure if I can describe the man I saw menace supposedly unarmed civilians mentally well. Suzaku… What happened to you?

That was the question indeed. What had happened to Suzaku, after Lelouch had bid him return to his father? Three weeks after Suzaku had promised eternal friendship and left, the Britannians had broadcast the news of Prime Minister Kururugi's suicide, helicopters flying overhead dropping leaflets as radios boomed the announcement out on all frequencies.

For his part, Lelouch had doubted that the Kururugi patriarch had ordered a general surrender before taking his life. That did not mesh with the man who had been his reluctant host for a year. Lelouch had found it far more likely That Man had ordered the assassination of Kururugi Genbuu and had falsely claimed the surrender, destroying Japanese leadership and morale in a single fell swoop. At the time, he could only assume that Suzaku had joined his father in the grave.

But that was clearly not the case, because Corporal Kururugi was unquestionably Suzaku. But, while the Suzaku Lelouch had known was a pigheaded, violent pain in the ass, obsessed with honor and rules, he was also a kind boy who had endless patience for Nunnally, who always strove to be the best, and who had eagerly joined a young exiled prince in petty childhood mischiefs, such as filling Todoh's gi with itching powder.

I can still see the edges of that boy in the soldier he has become if I squint hard enough.

Behind Lelouch, the door to the rooftop opened and the reason why he was up on the roof thinking about Suzaku stepped out, eyes wary and stiff in her new uniform.

"So," Kallen Stadtfeld said, her level tone conveying a calm professionalism that almost successfully hid her simmering anger from Lelouch's educated ears. "If Milly put you up to this, please just tell me right now. You can consider your job completed and message delivered, and I'll have enough time to enjoy my sandwich in peace."

"Congratulations on your ceremony, Cadet Sergeant Stadtfeld," Lelouch replied in lieu of an answer, turning from the railing to face his classmate. "I do not believe that it is precisely common for cadets to be promoted two grades before their first day of training, not even for noble cadets. That is quite the accomplishment indeed."

"Thanks," she replied curtly, "I'm honored. Was that all?"

"Not quite," Lelouch said as Kallen half-turned back towards the door. "As the highest-ranking cadet enrolled at Ashford, you are also the first leader of the newly founded Ashford ROTC. Has Major Pitt already gone over your responsibilities?"

"Not… yet," Kallen admitted, her lips twisting with momentary distaste. "I have a meeting scheduled with him after school, though, so maybe that's when he'll tell me what exactly being a 'cadet sergeant' entails. I would have appreciated the warning and maybe an explanation…"

You and me both, Stadtfeld. Although at least Milly doesn't demand that I salute when she gives orders. Not usually, anyway.

"Sprung it on you, did he?" Lelouch asked sympathetically. "Well, I cannot claim much insight into the ROTC, not exactly being a military man myself," he smirked at his own self-depreciation, "but I did want to let you know that, as the leader of the ROTC, you have a seat on the Student Council."

Momentary surprise flashed to annoyance. "Wha-? Fuck, of course I do," she muttered, clearly irritated, "Dammit… Seriously, is there anything at this damned school that Milly doesn't somehow control?"

"Funny you should mention that, Cadet Sergeant," Lelouch couldn't help but smirk at the irony of her comment. "The ROTC is at the Academy by decree of Prince Clovis, and such it is well outside the purview of what the Ashfords can command."

Lelouch's smile turned apologetic as he continued. "Much as you may believe otherwise, your addition to the Council as the voice of the ROTC is not one of her machinations. In fact, you can thank your new commanding officer for this particular obligation. He was quite insistent that the ROTC should have the opportunity to speak for the most patriotic students enrolled at Ashford Academy. Which, I suppose, means you."

Kallen drew herself up, and for a moment Lelouch worried that she was about to do something unwise, but instead, she released her mounting frustration in a controlled huff halfway between a sigh and a growl.

"I… see," Kallen carefully enunciated through grit teeth. She forced a smile at him, boiling rage locked tight behind a brittlely thin mask of gratitude. "Thank you for the… information, Lelouch. It seems we shall be colleagues soon enough."

How did Milly fail to notice her anger? Lelouch marveled. To him, Kallen's attempts to conceal her feelings behind smiles and small talk were decidedly wooden and transparent to the point of obviousness. Perhaps she is still shaken from the ceremony? It would be understandable if my deductions about her political loyalties are anything close to accurate.

"Indeed… So, welcome to the Student Committee, Cadet Sergeant Stadtfeld," Lelouch said with a smile full of sympathy. "Actually, do you mind if I call you Kallen? The title is frankly a bit much."

Kallen's brow furrowed, her mask strained yet further by the naked suspicion dancing in her eyes. Lelouch could practically feel the brush of her scalpel-like glare against his skin as she scanned him up and down, searching for hidden motives and potential threats.

Oh, Milly, Lelouch chided internally, you had no idea of just how dangerous the beast you were prodding this whole time was, did you?

"...Sure," Kallen eventually allowed, sliding back into the mask of the casual noble cadet with effort. "It's just a stuffy rank, anyways, don't worry about it." She shrugged. "Besides, we're gonna be working together soon enough anyways, aren't we? Standing on ceremony sounds like it'd just get in the way."

"True enough, Kallen," said Lelouch, "and that brings me to another matter. While I was getting your council membership paperwork organized – you get a small, discretionary salary as a sitting member, by the way – I happened to come across a few small irregularities in your Academy records."

Kallen's breath stilled, the potent energy that had swirled around her since she had stepped through the door abruptly focused entirely on Lelouch. The sudden air of menace was almost palpable.

And without even lifting a finger! Quite impressive, really.

"And what," Kallen asked, her voice very careful, very contained, "irregularities did you find, Mister Vice President?"

"Lelouch, please," he replied with a casual smile.

It would be best, I think, to humanize myself in her eyes as quickly as possible. And to let her know that people know where I am.

"Do not worry overly much, Kallen," Lelouch continued. "I even asked my little sister if she thought there would be any issues from the minor clerical errors I spotted before I took her to her classes this morning. She assured me that all would be well."

"How… reassuring."

The noble cadet and secret dissident looked anything but reassured. Her face had all the mobility and warmth of porcelain, and Lelouch noticed that her fists were tightly balled at the sides of her uniform's gray skirt. The vibrant red hair under her garrison cap practically screamed warnings to his animal brain to stay away and not to touch under any circumstances.

She looks just like Cornelia, only slightly less headstrong.

"Well, I am sure you will be happy to hear that all of those clerical errors have been addressed," Lelouch blithely continued, pretending that he hadn't noticed how her eyes had fixated on his throat. "None other than yours truly corrected your record at the Academy. I took the liberty of running off a complete copy of your new, accurate school record for you to peruse."

Taking a very small gamble – they were still on school grounds, after all, and he doubted she would murder him in the middle of the lunch hour – Lelouch turned his back on the simmering girl and stepped over to the valise he had left leaning against the rail. As he reached down, he slowed and carefully twisted just enough so Kallen could watch him reach into the satchel and withdraw a folder.

"Here we go!" Lelouch said cheerfully as he returned, deliberately not noticing how one of her hands was slowly creeping back into sight from behind her back, "One copy of the Academy records of Kallen Stadtfeld. Now with corrected information regarding your middle school attendance, your mother's marriage date to your father, and also with updated medical records to reflect your problems earlier this year."

Kallen's eyes narrowed as she accepted the folder from him, and she barely looked down as she flipped the folder open.

So, now she knows that I know that her records are fabricated. She also knows that I have gone out of my way to cover for her. I think her reaction will be… suspicion.

"That was very kind of you, Lelouch," Kallen replied, her voice notably less than gracious. "Although, I can't help but think that there could be some problems in the future when someone contrasts my Academy file with the Ministry of Education's files. Also, while I'm not questioning your word, if the Academy's files are so easy to mess with, how can I be sure that someone with enough access like, say, the Council President wouldn't be able to screw with them again?"

"By wondrous design," Lelouch said breezily, "the Ministry's records were recently updated to reflect data corrections submitted by some of Japan's, I'm sorry, Area 11's educational facilities. As for future interference, well…" He grimaced slightly. "Look, to be forthright about this, Milly unquestionably acted dishonorably towards you. Multiple times. But, she wants to make this right. Whose access code do you think I used when I edited your files?"

When she forgets to pretend to be a noble, Lelouch mused as Kallen's eyes flew wide at his "accidental" slip of the tongue, before narrowing in anger at her tormentor's name, she has an amazingly expressive face. She would have been devoured alive by the Court in an afternoon. Figuratively speaking, of course. Probably.

"If I don't accept this apology…" Kallen ground out, "what then? Will Madam President somehow arrange for me to fail a test? Contrive to force me into some humiliating and revealing costume? Put me up for grabs again?"

Oh, Milly… Lelouch almost sighed, you really did a number on this girl. All in the name of "fun".

I hope you've learned your lesson.

"If you do not accept her apology, it will simply create an awkward work environment," Lelouch replied calmly, carefully pitching his voice towards honest openness. "I understand that Milly is difficult at the best of times – truly, I do. But, and I say this as the other person she put up for grabs recently, she truly is not a bad person. Spoiled? Yes. Thoughtless? Often? Over-sexed and bored? Always. But you will be on the Student Council with her, Kallen, unless you can convince Major Pitt otherwise."

"...I wonder if the Army would just let me transfer schools?" Kallen thought aloud. "I know most of the other schools here in Area 11 suck, but…"

"I think Major Pitt would allow a great deal," Lelouch carefully answered, "but… Tell me, Kallen, do you think a man like that would do you any favor for free?"

"Do I have any reason to believe this 'apology' from Milly is anything other than a noose around my neck and a pat on the head?" Kallen shot back. "My father sent me to this Academy in part to avoid the military meddling with his house. But that plan's dead and gone, thanks to Milly's kind assistance, so…"

Kallen's smile was anything but nice. "So, what do I have to lose?"

"That…" Lelouch began, carefully recalculating, "...is a fair point, and I can see why you might see things that way, but I do not think sitting on the Student Council will be quite as bad as you expect. Rivalz will be there, for one, as will I. Milly did not understand before quite how she was affecting you, but she has been made to see the error in her ways. Before you consider transferring, kindly give us a shot. You might even enjoy yourself."

"...Why are you giving me the hard sell here?" Kallen asked as the pendulum swung back to suspicion. "What's in it for you, Lelouch? Why are you so eager for me to join your Council?"

I doubt she would respond well to my reasoning, namely "Knights of the Round grade pilots don't just fall from the sky, and I plan on making you my tool."

"Because I think that you and I combined can effectively check most of Milly's more outrageous ideas," Lelouch responded instead. "Rivalz is quite impressed by you, impressed enough that he might resist Milly's charms if you ask him for your support. Between my role as Vice President and his role as Treasurer of the Student Council, the three of us should be able to put the kibosh on most of her inane impulses. Just imagine it, an Ashford Academy without weekly parties!"

Lelouch had hoped that the remark would help open a chink in her armor. Humor was, after all, an invaluable diplomatic weapon, when wielded correctly.

Instead, Kallen gave him a long, slow, blink.

…Well, it might be time for plan C. Lelouch thought, sure she was about to refuse.

But then she surprised him.

"...Alright, fine, whatever," Kallen sighed. "I'll attend a few meetings. But! If that bitch tries to grab my chest even once, I am going to smash her perfect fucking teeth out of her stupid fucking face, understand?"

Clearly, Kallen wasn't entirely sold by his pitch, but that she was still willing to play ball at all meant Lelouch wasn't out of the game quite yet. And if I have an inch, I'll take a mile.

"Like crystal," Lelouch replied with a smile of his own, stretching out a hand. "Welcome to the Student Council, Kallen. Together, we shall do great things."

And if I can truly bring you into my confidence, perhaps a noble Britannian junior officer with sympathies for the Japanese can do what I cannot. I would not have survived without Suzaku's help, I am sure of that. I cannot repay the favor to save him from his own bad decisions now, but to a rising young ace, many doors are open.

I have not forgotten the fields of the dead, and I remember who brought food and water for Nunnally. Hold on, Suzaku – I was strong enough to carry Nunnally then, and soon I will be strong enough to carry you.

MAY 6, 2016 ATB
ALLEYWAY, KITA WARD, TOKYO SETTLEMENT
1758

Long ago and far away, Alexander lo Britannia, the Eighth Prince and one of Lelouch's ten elder half-brothers, had scoffed at a then-seven-year-old Lelouch's claims of possessing a genius to rival their elder half-brother, Prince Schniezel's. Alexander, a thin bespectacled boy, had been very bookish, and just as Schneizel favored Chess as his intellectual battleground, Alexander had favored the memorization and recitation of long books.

"If you're so smart," Alexander had challenged, "memorize the entirety of the Holy Bible. Schneizel did as much when he was ten, and if you really are smarter than him, you should be able to do the same at seven!"

For the next three days, Lelouch had spent every free minute committing the old tome to his memory, preparing to defend his clearly obvious genius against his petulant elder half-brother. As it turned out, he need not have bothered; Alexander was found dead in his bedroom four days later, the skin around his mouth red and blistered. The very next day, nine servants and a guard had been proclaimed guilty of regicide and flayed for poisoning the Eighth Prince.

Emperor Charles, of course, hadn't attended either the mass flaying or Alexander's funeral.

But, Lelouch still had that book pressed into his memory. He'd had little reason to summon up his knowledge of the King James's text in the last nine years, but it was still there, squatting toadlike in the back of his head.

Alright, something about fish and the number eighteen… Mark one seventeen is the bit about "fishers of men", and Mark one eighteen is… "And straightaway they forsook their nets, and followed him." Which tells me nothing, but… Maybe the arrow was pointing past the puzzle?

Lelouch, back in the same working-class neighborhood he'd wandered into on Monday night, ventured deeper into the alley, walking past the cross half-hidden behind the dumpster as he looked for further paint in either the silver or the blue shades left near the entrance.

At an intersection with a larger alley, a smudge of powder blue in a vaguely arrow-like shape pointed Lelouch northwards. Two intersections down, a vague blob on a sewer grate gestured to the east. Lelouch, already tired of the game, pushed on regardless; he'd devoted enough time to this nonsense that the pressure of the sunk cost fallacy overmatched his mounting irritation.

Finally, after what felt like an endless series of hints that presumably would have been barely noticeable to someone without his observational skills and genius, Lelouch reached the end of his impromptu hash run in front of a set of stairs descending to the basement access. Checking his phone, Lelouch found that it was almost nineteen hundred already, and the streets were thronged with pedestrians.

I will have to come back again later, perhaps after nightfall, he decided. There are simply too many people around. But… That puzzle must be some sort of password or code, something to get in. When would they most likely meet, though? Sunday? That would be the most obvious day for a secret group of heretics or schismatics to meet…

Lelouch stepped back from the stairs and looked at the building the basement was under. Albert's Taphouse, eh? So a bar. It sounds like it's pretty busy in there… Makes sense for a Friday night. He walked up to the bar's entrance and peered at the paper menu taped to the inside of the windowed door. Next to the daily specials was a list of weekly events.

Lady's Night every Saturday from sixteen hundred until twenty-one hundred? No, that doesn't feel right… But bar trivia at twenty hundred, every Tuesday night, huh? Sounds like a bunch of traffic coming in and out… Good cover for any individual or group of any age… Perfect for an illicit basement meeting.

Well, Lelouch smiled to himself, I do enjoy a round of trivia now and again. I would just have to make sure that I avoid winning by too much… Actually, he frowned, I probably should not win; that would make me memorable. That's the last thing I want, and assuming that the group meeting in the basement has any organization, there will be someone watching the crowd, looking for police plants.

Which, he mused as he turned and started making his way back down the street, means that I should not come by myself either, as a single outsider could strike paranoid heretics as suspicious. Rivalz is probably out as well, as two strange young men are probably just as suspicious as one alone. But Milly, maybe? A young couple using a casual social event to facilitate a date? Now that has legs.

Besides, she does owe me for cleaning up her mess with Kallen. I'm sure she'll be happy to wipe the slate clean so quickly!

Milly picked up on the second ring.

"Hey there, Lulu," the Ashford heiress said by way of greeting, her voice sultry even over the phone's tinny speakers, "making a night-time call to little ol' me? How intriguing! I hope you aren't calling me with honorable intentions?"

"I am afraid that I will have to disappoint you," Lelouch chuckled, walking as he talked into the phone. "After all, when are my intentions ever anything less than honorable?"

"That's the disappointing part…" Milly sighed. "You know, you really could stand to be a bit more adventurous, Lulu. Just a bit."

Lelouch ignored the flare of annoyance with practiced ease, a swift rebuttal already on his lips. "I need to be more adventurous, hmm? Remind me, Milly, which one of us actually dares venture outside the campus to find their fun?"

He could practically hear her pout from the other end of the line. Lelouch didn't even bother to try and hide the smile it brought to his lips. "In fact, it was just the other day you were chiding me for braving the Black King's gambling halls while you sat around a boudoir, was it not?"

"Fiiiine!" Milly whined into his ear, "You made your point, Lulu! Forgive a delicate maiden such as myself for wanting to have a little fun with the Academy's very own tall, dark and charming bachelor! If I'd known you'd be so black-hearted as to spurn such a beautiful flower's advances as well as Shirley's, maybe I shouldn't have bothered?"

"Well," Lelouch said aloud, "ask and you shall receive, Milly. I have a sojourn to the Kita Ward planned for next Tuesday; an adventure, if you will. Would you care to be my plus one?"

"Oh my, so forward!" Milly all but purred in his ear. "You'd take an almost-noble girl like me out to such a rough and tumble place? What villainy do you have in mind? Something that would scandalize Shirley, I hope! Did you find a new dive to play cards in? Or perhaps it's a cockfighting ring this time?"

"Neither! Milly Ashford…" Lelouch grinned into the phone, injecting as much unwarranted seriousness into the invitation as he could, "would you do me the honor of joining me for a night of bar trivia?"

"...You cannot be serious," the disappointment in her sigh was bottomless, and Lelouch's grin grew an inch wider. "Bar trivia? Seriously, Lulu? Why the hell are you going to bar trivia?"

"We can discuss it further in person if you wish," he said, allowing the smile and silliness to slip away in favor of a more somber tone. "But just to keep things short, I want a good look at the inside of the basement of the bar in question. A young couple out for some school night fun seems less obviously suspicious than a lone man skulking around."

"Oh?" Predictably, the flirtatiousness returned to Milly's voice. "We'd be posing as a couple? Well, just so long as you know what you're getting into, Lulu; the great Milly Ashford is a method actress, you know~"

"I never kiss on a first date," Lelouch replied blandly.

"Who said it had to be our first~?" Milly purred in his ear. "I certainly don't intend for it to be our last~."

Lelouch sighed tiredly. "...Thanks Milly, I appreciate it."

"It's always a pleasure," she said warmly, "even if you are a tease. My, Shirley's going to be jealous~"

"Somehow, I doubt I will lose much sleep over it," Lelouch replied. The comment, intended as a casual dismissal, reminded him of a topic he had already been losing sleep over. "Hey, Milly?"

"What is it, Lelouch?" Milly had clearly noticed the change in his voice, her own growing equally serious.

"Do you…" He gulped. "Do you or your grandfather have any connections in the military?"

"Umm…" Milly hesitated. "You'll have to be more specific than that. Why? What do you need?"

"I have a friend," Lelouch began, "a friend from before… Before the Conquest. Before I accepted the hospitality of the House of Ashford. A… A Japanese friend. Recently, I discovered that he has, for some baffling reason, taken up the oath in one of the Honorary Legions."

"Oh… Oh, Lulu…" Milly's voice was instantly sympathetic and pitying. "I'm so sorry. But… I mean, chances are that he'll survive his stint. And ten years isn't too long. By the time it's up, things might have simmered down a bit…"

Good to know that we both suck at being reassuring.

"I am not content to take chances, not when I can avoid it," Lelouch replied dispassionately, pushing the instantaneous throb that the thought of losing another important person inspired back down. "However, I have limited means and no inroads into the military. On the other hand, the Ashford name still carries weight, at least in regards to Knightmare-related matters. Do you think that there could be any possibility that…?"

"I mean…" Milly sounded uneasy. "I guess there's always a chance? Grandpa has a pretty deep favor bank, so… possibly? But… C'mon, Lulu, they're not going to let an Honorary, especially not an Eleven Honorary, anywhere near a Knightmare."

"Just… try," he requested, hating the waver that entered his voice. "Please. It does not have to be with the Knightmare Corps; I would just be happy with his transfer to a unit not comprised solely of expendable cannon fodder. While I am confident that my friend will survive his term of service even in the Honorary Legion, I doubt that he will still be the person I remember by the end of it."

"...I can't promise anything, but I'll try," Milly agreed, sympathy warring with reluctance. "What's this friend's name? Do you know what his unit and rank are?"

I should have looked up the unit; it would not have been difficult to find his service record. But… I just could not bring myself to look for it. I did not want to know… Know what he had done in That Man's name.

"His family name is Kururugi," Lelouch said gratefully, "and his given name is Suzaku. I think I heard one of the soldiers I saw refer to him as Corporal. I do not know his unit; they were out of uniform when I saw them."

"Kururugi, eh?" Clearly, the name was not lost on Milly. "And a corporal? Man, the Legion has no idea who he is, do they? That's good, that'll help. I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you," Lelouch replied, and ended the call.

I have done what I can for Suzaku for now, and I have already spent my favor with Milly. I hope her grandfather can do something to save him because I surely cannot.

MAY 10, 2016 ATB
ALBERT'S TAPHOUSE, KITA WARD, TOKYO SETTLEMENT
1948

By the time Milly and Lelouch arrived at the Taphouse, an impressive crowd had already gathered at the bar. The common area was practically standing room only, and the shared table the middle-aged waitress guided Milly towards only had a single seat available. Lelouch graciously pulled it out for his "date," before leaning against the wall behind her.

"New faces, eh?" A matronly woman greeted them with a tired yet cheerful from across the table. "Good to meet you, dearies. I'm Hilda, and this is my husband, Charles."

"Here for some trivia, eh?" A slender man with the shiny burns and thick calluses of a machinist waved from Hilda's right. "What're you kids good for, hmm? I'm pretty good at football trivia myself, and the missus knows everything there is to know about the soaps and shows."

"It's good to meet you guys too!" Milly beamed. "I'm Milly, and this is Leland. I'm pretty good at botany, biology, and all kinds of anatomy! Oh, and I watch a ton of TV too, so I can help you out, Hilda!"

"And I have a pretty solid command of history," Lelouch put in, leaning forwards onto the back of Milly's chair and resting his hands on her shoulders. "We cover each other's weaknesses quite nicely! I am certain that tonight, we shall triumph!"

"Quite right!" The wire-thin man across Charles put in, bright eyes blazing under a manic shock of hair as he turned to greet the newcomers. "The name's Havelock, and if you want any poetry or literary trivia, I'm your man!"

"Do you guys have a team name or anything?" Milly asked as Lelouch waved down the waitress. "And who's asking the questions tonight, do you know?"

"Ah, your first time?" Hilda asked with a knowing chuckle. "Not to worry, dearies, we're always looking for fresh blood. Old Tim always asks the questions, and we don't do team names – each of the tables is numbered, so we just go those instead."

"Didn't always use to be that way," Havelock interjected. "Used to be that everybody would spend a good fifteen, twenty minutes hashing out the names! But, as always, some young prick got all pissy about it and tried to glass his buddy when they just couldn't agree, so the table number is the house rule now."

"My, how violent!" Milly gasped theatrically behind her hand, miming a worried glance up at Lelouch. Familiarity made the dancing sparks of interest in her eye impossible to miss. "Glassing… That's when someone breaks a bottle and slashes someone with it, right? What happened? Was he okay?"

Nothing like a bit of danger to inject a note of adventure, Lelouch thought wryly. And Milly certainly loves her adventures.

"Mhm." Charles nodded, lips tightening momentarily. "Smashed a pint glass over the poor devil's head. Damned mess to clean up. But the Peelers showed up soon enough to haul the bastard away, and Doc Lawn got the glass out of the other man's scalp. Damn eventful for a Tuesday night, I tell you."

"Quite," Lelouch replied as the order of fried onions arrived. "Here, help yourselves, everybody. Thank you for letting Milly and I join you for the night."

"Thanks, Leland!" Havelock didn't wait for any further invitation, and as a second platter of fried onions and a round of cheap beer for the adults and cokes for the two sixteen-year-olds arrived, the small talk turned increasingly amiable.

By the time Old Tim stepped up to the ancient microphone to start the Trivia Night in earnest, Milly already had all three of the locals eating out of her palm, to Lelouch's amusement. She had dressed them both up as commoners for the night with an efficiency and a deft touch that he should have expected in hindsight, considering her love of costumes.

Interestingly, away from Ashford Academy and everybody who knew her as Milly Ashford apart from himself, Milly had chosen a very demure outfit, contrary to Lelouch's expectations. Her long skirt was loose and reached all the way down to the middle of her calves, and the shawl draped over her blouse covered up any stray hint of skin. Not that there were any, as she had buttoned said blouse all the way to the neckline.

Honestly, I think the modest outfit would shock our classmates more than the Queen of Ashford lowering herself to a blue-collar bar.

Disguises aside, it was surprisingly easy for Lelouch to allow himself to slip into "Leland", the pleasant and polite student and amateur historian. The role felt light on his shoulders and it gave him a reason to feign ignorance about most of the questions asked. By forcing himself to only give input on questions relating to history, Lelouch was proud that his team was in second place by the end of the round, narrowly avoiding the first-place slot.

The only downside was how… persistent Milly was in sticking to her self-assigned role as his girlfriend.

When someone at another table had left, Havelock had managed to snag their chair and had offered it to Lelouch so he could sit down. No sooner had he taken his seat than Milly had hopped up from her chair and deposited herself in his lap, to the men's approving laughter and Hilda's tolerant smile. Before Lelouch could protest, Havelock had slid the now-vacant chair back over to the other table, leaving him with a lapful of smiling Student Council President.

Then came the long, soulful stares when Old Tim had asked about some soap opera relationship, which character had left his wife for his mistress or some rot. Then had come her fanciful nonsense when Hilda had asked how they had met. Apparently, "Leland and Milly" were childhood friends who had been briefly separated by a parental move before they had reunited in Area 11, a triumph of young love, to hear Milly tell it.

Hilda had been properly appreciative, cooing in all the right spots. Lelouch had been less enthusiastic, although he had managed to play his irritation off as coy shyness.

To his mild horror, Havelock had been very sympathetic when Milly had hopped off to use the ladies' room.

"Enjoy it while it lasts, lad," he'd advised, clapping "Leland" on the shoulder with surprising strength for such a thin man. "Birds come and they go, and scarcely do they linger on a branch for long. Just don't let that one tie you up in too many knots, okay? Sometimes," he winked, "they like to be chased, you know. Just so long as it's on their terms."

Thankfully, before Lelouch had been forced to try to respond to that, Hilda had ridden to his rescue.

"Havelock Smythe, you horrible man, what nonsense are you putting in that boy's brain!" Her spoon had smacked down into the table beside Havelock's hand, causing the man to jump in his chair. "Damned poets!"

Fortunately, by the time the third round had begun, Lelouch had managed to escape into a second chair, freeing himself temporarily from Milly's admittedly convincing acting. That acting served as an excellent smokescreen, allowing "Leland" to steadily retreat away from the conversation as Milly chatted on.

By the time they secured third place, in no small part thanks to Lelouch's iron self-control stopping him from providing all of the answers to his teammates, Milly was deep into a conversation with Hilda about some convoluted television plot Lelouch couldn't even begin to make out. Meanwhile, Charles and Havelock were bitching about some unknown party. Seizing his chance, Lelouch muttered something about paying for the appetizers and slipped away from the table, leaving Milly to hold all attention firmly in place.

The bartender was, to say the least, unwelcoming.

"...Whaddya want, kid?" His accent was pure Pendragon, revealing the man's Homeland heritage. "You hear to settle?"

"Yes sir," Lelouch smiled as he fished a few pound coins out of his pocket. "The onions were quite good."

"Good to hear it," the bartender muttered as he pushed a grubby note across the stained wooden surface of the bar. "Three and ten, please."

"Here you go," Lelouch dropped five of the worn coins onto the receipt and pushed the paper back across the counter. "I was kind of disappointed that you did not have any calamari available, though. I guess the fishermen forsook their nets for the night, eh? They must have followed some loudmouth off to other engagements."

The bartender frowned for a moment, presumably wondering what Lelouch was on about since calamari rings were very clearly listed on the appetizers. Then, his expression went blank again, as placid as a lake. "Could be the case. You know how it is, someone sees some sign and decides to upend their whole life over it. They get it in their head to go out and conquer the world."

As the bartender spoke, he wrung out a wet rag on the bar in front of Lelouch. Without breaking eye contact, Lelouch drew a very sloppy Chi-Rho with the water droplets, before the rag swished back and wiped away the symbol.

"Past the bathrooms and down the stairs," the bartender said in a conversational tone, a non sequitur to anybody not in the know. "Mind your head – there's a bump halfway down."

"Many thanks," Lelouch tapped a finger to his forehead as if miming a salute, before letting his fingers drop straight down to brush over his lips. The bartender mimed touching his heart and nodded, and Lelouch walked past him into the dimly lit back corridor.

The hallway was thankfully deserted and Lelouch quickly found the splintered wooden door marked "Stairs" just past the restrooms, tucked away behind a pile of empty crates. The only sign that anybody had slipped past the crates in recent memory was the lack of grime where the opening door had pushed it back.

Without so much as a single backward look, Lelouch stepped around the accumulated crates, turned the knob, and quietly slipped past the door into the darkness beyond.

Confidence is the key. The most crucial part of any disguise was the confidence that you were who you claimed to be. It had been that way everywhere Lelouch had gone in life, from the Imperial Court to the shattered post-Conquest streets of Hachioji. And now, by sign and by signal, I have told whoever is down in the basement that I am one of them. Therefore, I am coming home, not plunging into danger. Confidence.

Halfway down the stairs, Lelouch was forced to duck under a low-hanging HVAC conduit.

Just like the barman warned me about, he thought with amusement, rubbing at his aching forehead, although not quite the way I had expected. With all of those double-meanings we were tossing around, I expected "the bump" I should watch for would be a man with a baton. I suppose that was not, in fact, part of the skullduggery.

The basement Lelouch stepped out into was built of dingy red bricks and had clearly seen long service as the storage room for the bar's excess inventory before it had found a new purpose. His eyes darted from the twenty-odd people standing around the basement clearly waiting for someone to show up to the obvious altar standing at the head of the room, if such a term could be used to describe a pair of boards on top of a keg draped in a tablecloth.

Above the altar, an old banner hung from a nail driven into the brickwork. The white linen had yellowed with age, but the embroidered device still retained its original colors of red, white, and blue.

It was unmistakably the same shield he had previously found painted on a wall, picked out in fine stitchwork instead of crude spray paint. The red of Saint George's cross gleamed against the pure white inlay, the symbols of the Chi-Rho and the letters Alpha and Omega contrasted against cerulean blue quartering.

The old church sign!

It was a symbol from a different Britannia, a Britannia that existed before the Emblem of Blood. When Baudoin du Britannia, 92nd Emperor of Britannia, had been assassinated in 1955, it kicked off a struggle for the throne that would not be fully resolved until That Man brought the conflict to a shuddering stop in 1998. The Britannia that emerged from the calamitous four-decade-long succession struggle was a very different creature from what it had once been.

Virtually every source of legitimacy had been demolished over those long, bloody years, including the old Britannic Church. Long a handmaiden of the Imperial Family, as the various dynastic branches fought for the throne the ecclesiastical hierarchy likewise ripped each other asunder. In the end, Bishop Warren of Tucson had backed the right horse in Charles zi Britannia and had been elevated to the position of Archbishop of Rochester and Chief Primate of the Britannic Church.

A match made in Hell, if ever there was one.

The religious reforms had been just as overarching as the temporal reforms. As That Man ruthlessly re-centralized power and brought nobles who had grown used to their freedoms back to heel, Archbishop Warren had made crucial changes to church doctrine, including the open embrace of polygamy, long an informal practice but never officially sanctioned, and the enshrining of the Emperor as the living voice of God in the temporal realm.

There had been, of course, protesting voices and dissidents pushing back on the radical new doctrine. Those voices had been branded heretics and had been executed as the heretics they now were. Drowned, beheaded, staked, and burned, Archbishop Warren had been ruthless in rooting out any old believing clergy unwilling or unable to go underground.

And now, Lelouch thought as he looked up at the aged banner that had, in all probability, once graced the wall of a parish church, the remnants hide among the settlers in the newly conquered Areas in the Pacific, or in the jungles of Areas 6 and 7 amongst the Catholic insurgents. All the while preaching of the day when a true king shall come to reopen the Emblem of Blood and cast down the usurper.

I can work with this.

Drawing on old lessons from his childhood spent as a prince of a holy empire, and thus required to attend public devotions on the high holidays, Lelouch drew himself up straight and, defying the orthodoxy of his childhood, raised the first two fingers – one straight and one slightly bent, thumb folded just so – to his forehead, before brushing down over his lips and down to his heart. Then, oriented towards the banner, he bowed low from the waist and crossed himself on rising.

A gentle sigh of collective relief drifted from the small crowd as he made the appropriate ritual genuflection. Hands relaxed around copies of the Book of Common Prayer and the few whose hands had slipped out of sight as Lelouch came down the stairs released whatever they had secreted in their pockets.

A man stepped out from the crowd. "Peace be with you," he said, greeting Lelouch with a smile and an outstretched hand.

"And also with you," Lelouch replied, shaking the proffered hand before adding, "and upon all who gather here in congregation."

"We're still waiting on Father Timothy," the man explained as he guided Lelouch towards the gathered knot of people, away from the stairs. "He usually takes his time. But, in the meantime, you can call me Brother Phillip. What name do you choose to worship under, Brother?"

Assumed names to introduce distance, in case one or more are found, Lelouch assumed. Some of them were probably in the crowd upstairs, and one could have heard me introduce myself as Leland, so that is not an option if I want to appear to be a savvy fellow traveler. So, what should I use?

Remembering the elder half-sibling who had challenged him to memorize the Bible, who had inadvertently given him the tools to find this meeting, Lelouch promptly replied "Brother Alexander, if you please."

"Good to meet you, Brother Alexander," Phillip said, his flashing white teeth a sharp contrast against his dark skin. "You can share my Book for the service if you'd like?"

"Thank you," Lelouch replied politely, "I'd appreciate that." He looked down at the rough cement floor. "Pardon me for asking, but…" he gestured towards the unyielding surface, "are we kneeling on that?"

"Not hardly," Phillip chuckled. "There's a pile of old seat cushions in the back corner. Just make sure to put whatever you take back afterward."

As Lelouch returned to Phillip's side, an old cushion spilling foam from busted seams tucked under his arm, an old man hobbled his way down the last step of the stairs. Judging by the carefully cleaned and bleached Roman collar around his neck and the much-mended but fraying stole around his neck, Lelouch deduced that the old man was the awaited Father Timothy.

Or as Havelock and Charles might call him, Old Tim. Lelouch smiled, shaking his head. A schismatic priest conducting a bar trivia night! Splendid, splendid. Although, he reflected as Father Timothy coughed wetly into his sleeve, time has clearly not been kind to this old priest.

For all that he was old and infirm, Father Timothy's voice was still quite robust as he raised his hands in benediction. "Light and peace, in Jesus Christ our Lord," he declared.

"Thanks be to God," the crowd replied as one, Lelouch mouthing the time-worn ritual response.

"Bless the Lord who forgives all our sins," Father Timothy continued, before plunging fully into a rite that was apparently "An Order of Worship for Evening Prayer," according to the title splashed across the page Phillip had open in his dogeared tome.

Lelouch let the words pass over him, facing forwards and appropriately attentive as his eyes passed over the heretics in attendance. Almost half were female and all, to a man, were obviously poor. Of the twenty-seven people in attendance, not counting himself or the priest, fifteen were gray with age and only two children were present.

And yet, one thing all have in common is the yearning hope writ large across their faces. They are all hungry for hope, for meaning, for a reason to look forward to the next day. And that old, sick man at the front is giving them just such a reason, even though his presentation skills are nonexistent and he stands one foot in the grave.

There is so much potential here if I can tap into it…

"And now," Father Timothy continued, his voice rough and cracked, "a reading from the Book of Isaiah:

"How is the faithful city become a harlot! It was full of judgment; righteousness lodged in it; but now murderers. Thy silver is become dross, thy wine mixed with water; Thy princes are rebellious, and companions of thieves: Every one loveth gifts, and followeth after rewards: they judge not the fatherless, neither doth the cause of the widow come unto them. Therefore, saith the Lord, the Lord of Hosts, the mighty One of Israel, Ah, I will ease me of mine adversaries and avenge mine enemies.*

"The word of the Lord."

"Thanks be to God," Lelouch chorused with the rest of the audience as the sermon began.

"Brothers and sisters, I will keep this brief." Father Timothy paused with a weary smile. "As the eighteenth year of this new Babylonian Captivity comes to a close, the news is bleak at every corner. The usurper sits on his bloody throne and his confederates turn Mother Church into a prostitute, as they have for nigh on two decades now. Every day brings us rumors of renewed purges of the faithful, of new martyrs brought to the ravenstone and bound to wheel or spike.

"And yet, brothers and sisters, I implore you to keep strong in your faith and to cling onto hope. Every day that passes with some new atrocity or blatant malfeasance from the princes of men weakens their foundation, though they know it naught. Everywhere, nobles and wealthy men scheme and steal and exploit. I tell you, in doing so they salt their own fields, and future harvests will rot in their hands!

"Likewise, the liars who wear miters and vestments gorge themselves as their parishioners starve. For all that our people were desperate for stability, desperate for room to breathe, they will not suffer depredations at the hands of their intended protectors forever. As the churches grow empty and tithes wither away, the whores who call themselves priests will grasp ever more greedily, and in doing so dig their own graves.

"But," Timothy paused and smiled out at his tiny flock. "You know this already, brothers and sisters. You have heard it all before, and the knowledge that our enemies cannot stand forever is scarce comfort when your bellies are empty and our brothers in Christ writhe beneath the bone-shattering blows of the rod and squirm helplessly as their limbs are braided about the spokes of the wheel. I know. I understand.

"I shall not lie to you, brothers and sisters; I doubt that most of us gathered here shall see the Promised Land reborn, cleansed of the rot and inequity that so plague our beloved Homeland. I certainly shall not – death is in my bones, and I doubt I will be with you to celebrate Christmas. And yet, I tell you, there is hope yet! The True Prince shall come, the one who shall sit on the throne and drown the traitors in their own blood! He shall come to us as was promised, shall renew the holy empire as the true Kingdom of God on Earth!

"I know not when he will come, brothers and sisters, but I am ironclad in my certainty that he already walks amongst us, that he sees our suffering and hears the cries of his people. The perversity that Charles the Usurper has wrought upon us demands justice, demands retribution, and our God would not deny us an instrument of his will to balance the scales.

"And so I say to you, brothers and sisters, as the spring gives way to summer and new life buds and grows – have faith! Hold on, my people, for our Heavenly Father will not long suffer a liar to sit in His chair and speak in His name! As surely as spring shall give way to autumn and autumn to winter, all that is man shall rot and decay, and our dross will be turned back to silver once more! Our reading goes on to promise the restoration of Zion, of our Pendragon!

"Brothers and sisters, truly I tell you, she will be redeemed with judgment! She will be converted with righteousness! All who have forsaken our Lord will be consumed! Liar-king and corrupt cleric alike, both shall burn, and nobody shall be able to put out the spark!"

A wrenching cough ripped its way out of Father Timothy's mouth, interrupting his sermon. Lelouch took the opportunity to glance sideways at Brother Phillip; the man's face was enraptured, his eyes aglow as he stared at Father Timothy.

"The word of God," Father Timothy forced out as another bout of coughing interrupted him, "for the people of God."

"Glory to you, Lord Christ." The reply of the congregation was fervent, a new fire breathed into them in the promises Father Timothy had made.

And nothing that Old Tim said is necessarily untrue, Lelouch considered, turning the brief sermon over in his mind. The empire is unquestionably riding for a fall; it is most obvious here in Japan, where all of the symptoms of imperial rot run rampant, but Clovis is merely a symptom of a larger failing, a decay that stems from That Man and him alone. He emerged victorious from the Emblem of Blood, but the Empire as a whole certainly did not. For all that Britannia rules a third of the world, she sits upon a crumbling foundation that no amount of conquest can mend.

Another man stepped up as Father Timothy was given a glass of water to drink, and the congregation duly recited the Nicene Creed and chanted a brief hymn on the theme of light. Finally, Father Timothy recovered enough to deliver the closing blessing, and the service drew to a close as the congregation chorused a final "Thanks be to God" in reply.

After thanking Phillip for the use of his book, Lelouch made his way over to where Father Timothy rested, leaning against the wall beside the banner of the Anglican Shield.

"That was quite the sermon, Rector," Lelouch said politely. "It's been quite a while since I heard such a passionately full-throated lesson."

Admittedly, that is because I have not attended a service since before Mother's passing. It is not as if the Britannic Church fully shuns fire and brimstone, after all.

"Thank you, young man…" Timothy smiled amiably up through his beard, but the cool intelligence in those rheumy eyes was not lost on Lelouch. "I don't think I've met you before, and yet, you clearly are familiar with the proper ways."

"I am," Lelouch replied with a deft smile, "from another flock than yours, yet follow the same shepherd. Or, at least, I was from another flock. I relocated to Tokyo from the Hiroshima Settlement a few months ago."

"Ah, I see!" The old man smiled, although the smile again didn't quite touch his wary eyes. "I rejoice that you found your way to us. Now, pardon an old man's curiosity, but your accent… I couldn't help but notice the traces of Pendragon…"

"My father hails from Pendragon," Lelouch replied honestly, "although my mother is from Area 2. I lived in Pendragon before orders came down that sent my family to Area 11."

"Ah, that would be it," Timothy nodded. "Forgive an old man's curiosity. It's not as if Pendragoner accents are exactly rare – lots of us came from the Homeland, after all – but just that combined with the touches of an aristocratic tone…"

"No worries," Lelouch said jovially. "My father is from a very minor noble family, but only barely; grandson of a third son, you see. He tried to squabble against the main branch for the family holdings back in the day, which played a role in how we ended up in Area 11."

"Lot of that going around," the old priest mused out loud. "Well then, my son, consider yourself welcome here."

"Thank you, Rector," Lelouch replied politely, probing carefully for an edge to carry the conversation along.

This is the man to impress; the congregation was practically eating out of his hands. If his health is as bad as he said it was, he is also vulnerable and without a successor.

"Ah, no need for formalities," Timothy waved the title away. "I haven't been a rector since '98, when the diocese discharged me from my post for refusing to swear to the new rite."

"And you have been out of communion with the state church since then?" Lelouch asked. "Have you been underground since then, Father?"

"Of course!" Timothy wheezed slightly as an embittered laugh slipped out. "Eighteen years of sleeping rough and traveling quietly from place to place, of preaching in basements like the Catacombers of Old Rome. They chased me all the way from Bainbridge in Area 4 to Tokyo, my son! And I'm one of the lucky ones… Old Uncle Knapsack is very thorough, you know."

Lelouch nodded, recognizing the Four slang for a secret policeman of any affiliation. Someone who could cram you into his sack and make you disappear into the night.

"All the way to Tokyo from Cuba? That must have been quite the change, in climate if nothing else." Lelouch paired the joking remark with a smile. "Still, you must have run quite fast to have lasted so long underground."

"I suppose so," Timothy sighed, "although, as you heard, my running days are done. I can barely get around the Settlement these days, even with that nifty new train our fool of a governor built. These old bones just can't take the stairs or long walks like they used to, and my wind is completely shot."

"Well, if it would not be too forwards of me…" Lelouch began, sensing an opportunity, "can I offer my assistance? I have some education, courtesy of my father, on the intricacies of our faith, and I have youth and vigor as well. I understand that those are the primary qualifications to be a Lay Eucharistic Minister, and if I could assist you with your duties in that office, it would benefit the church in hiding here in Area 11."

"You make a good point," admitted Timothy, "and I do need help. Unfortunately, those with the time and energy here lack the education or the ability to move freely about the Settlement and beyond, which I understand you have. This is not, you understand, the only congregation I tend to; there are others, hidden throughout the Settlement and the countryside beyond."

"I had figured as much," Lelouch confessed, "or at least hoped. It would have been quite… saddening to have finally found my way back to the true faith, only to find that it had withered to a score and seven in all of the Settlement."

"It's not quite that bad, but…" Timothy shook his head. "That's neither here nor there. I no longer have the luxury to turn down any assistance offered, and… While I have only just met you, Brother Alexander, I am certain you are no police plant nor a spy. When the Numbers are running rampant over the countryside, I doubt they would waste such an intelligent young man on our dregs. If you are willing to take on Eucharistic Minister duties, I would be happy to have you."

"Thank you for demonstrating your faith in me," Lelouch replied, extending a hand. "I will see that you will not regret it. Tell me, when would be best for us to meet further?"

"Would you be willing to take a day trip out to Chiba this weekend?" Timothy asked, grasping Lelouch's hand with a dignified frailty. "There is a small gathering of the faithful out on the Boso Peninsula. If you wouldn't mind, they are due for the Eucharist this Sunday, and I would appreciate the aid. We meet at a tobacconist's, near the sewage treatment plant in Hamanocho, south of the barracks in Chiba City."

"I would be honored, Father," Lelouch said, releasing the old man's hand. "I will stand ready to help keep the fire alight until the time comes for dross to turn back into silver once more."

"Then go in peace, my son, and I'll see you on Sunday."

Milly was waiting impatiently for Lelouch back up in the almost empty main room of the Taphouse.

"There you are," she said with a smile, honeysuckle sweetness not quite covering the acerbic exasperation. "I thought you'd left and stuck me with the bill, but the bartender said you'd already paid up. Then I thought you'd somehow tripped into the toilet and had been flushed down the pipes with all the other turds, but nope, no sign of you in the bathrooms. Where the heck did you go, Leland?"

"Oh, you know, I just went to my father's house," Lelouch jokingly replied, momentarily relishing her immediate and obvious shock before continuing. "Well, not really, but something like that. I went to see a man about some silver. Hopefully not thirty pieces of the stuff. Do not worry, I will tell you more back at home."

"You had better," Milly retorted playfully as she fell into step beside him, "otherwise the engagement's off, Leland! I can't have a husband who keeps secrets from me."

"We are engaged now?" He turned to look at her, brow raised. "I am all but certain that, when I left to pay the tab, we were just out on a casual date. When did we get engaged?"

"That's what you get for zoning out on the conversation all night, Lulu!"

As he and Milly made their way back to the Academy, Lelouch found his mind drifting back to the congregation in that dirty brick basement. Unlike the crowd of workers in the neighborhood by the train station, these were desperate people already actively hunted by the authorities. They had very little left to lose at this point.

Which means they have everything to gain. And unlike economics, religion is a guaranteed hot-button issue. I made mistakes last time, but this time will be different. I will let Nunnally and Sayoko know, for one. Lelouch involuntarily shuddered, remembering the scolding he had received from his darling little sister after the poster debacle. And depending on what she says, I might bring Milly in on it too.

The plan went awry last time, but now… Things will be different. Britannia will fall. A new world for Nunnally. The True Anglicans are waiting for a True Prince to come? I can be that. This can work. It will work.

It has to work.

*(Copied from the King James Version of the Bible, Isaiah 1:21 - 24)