(I advise reading the epilogue of book 2.)
Today I met a young recruit from Area Fifteen whose home, Mogadishu, had been destroyed at Lelouch's hands. When I first heard he had been tasked with turning Area Fifteen into a property colony, I had hope. Too much hope, arguably. Because I taught him, because I had seen the kindness in his heart, because my son is his hostage, I didn't realize the obvious implication from the reports. Under his military dictatorship, the reports read like any other Britannian occupation. I dismissed the Kyoto House's concerns over Kaguya's engagement with him as being self-centered. Now, I fear they saw something I didn't: Prince Lelouch's unsuitability as our ally.
We were fools to think two years in our care would be enough to secure the boy to our cause when Emperor Charles hovers over him. Lelouch has entered adulthood as the quintessential Britannian prince. Kaguya remains certain he is not a threat, but I fear her judgment is compromised. His political games prove him an adept manipulator.
Suzaku sent my son to him so he would be safer and have a chance at a proper childhood. How am I supposed to tell him that his friend is mostly likely a monster and those hopes are for naught?
—Journal Entry of General Tohdoh Kyoshiro, dated June, 11, 2018
Maine, Homeland
A rambunctious summer breeze bit into Charles's nape as he climbed out of the limousine to survey the docks. The new aircraft carrier rested in the shipyard in its nest of metal bars and safety lines. The HMS Hercules was to be the linchpin in Britannia regaining control over the seas and marked the first of many ships needed to reinforce their overburdened fleet. It was a national embarrassment that they were unable to keep their trade secure as the Europeans, spurred on by their technological advantages, were becoming more brazen in their piracy.
The problem? The HMS Hercules was to have been finished half a year ago and was nowhere near done.
"I grow tired of your excuses," Charles said as he walked up to the disheveled noble accompanied by his young daughter. He cast her an appraising eye at her dignified appearance and silently credited her for having managed to prepare herself in the scant few minutes before his men had dragged her father out of bed that morning. "If you are unable to deliver, I will be forced to reconsider whether your tax exemptions are being well-earned. The Burlington Yard has been quite industrious despite having none of your advantages."
"Your Majesty," Lord Walshe protested. "They are commoners, an upstart initiative who look upon their European brethren with envy, not hate. They would never keep state secrets where they belong."
"Confidentiality may soon matter little," Charles said, stepping onto the gangplank.
"I am afraid I do not understand."
For all that Britannia held the advantage on land and their improved airships like the Avalon had let them keep apace in the sky, their technological lead had withered to nothing, and the E.U. was slowly moving ahead. Their new sonar system with advance detection and cloaking devices were particularly insidious, allowing their ships to easily discover and prey on Britannian ships.
Charles inhaled deeply but didn't respond. With every new territory acquisition, their resources became more strained, their forces more weary, and the nobles more gluttonous. But the E.U. had to be brought to a heel or they would soon find themselves, once more, on the brink of annihilation. Their enmity was too great. Only one would be able to survive.
"As you can see our employees are working diligently," Lord Walshe said, regaining his composure and pushing forward to lead the tour. "We are making slow and steady progress, despite numerous delays over external sabotage. Our investigations would proceed more smoothly without the obstruction of the provincial minister. She is an earnest official, but one who does not understand the practicalities of such large projects."
Rolling his eyes, Charles raised his hand in a slight wave to the workers. The commoners always appreciated such gestures, especially when contrasted to their tyrant of a direct overseer. "Is the tax fraud too arduous? Or have the local unions lodged too many complaints for your liking?"
"Your Majesty, it is merely the peasants who insist on leaving, traveling south to Burlington Yard, shunning the honor of working on His Majesty's personal projects. Perhaps, it would be best if Burlington would be shown less government favor—"
"Until the work here is done..." Charles rebutted, already growing weary of the conversation.
The nobility was always the same, vying for more control on their little fiefdoms and looking to expand their influence. Each wished to be king. Each wished that their puppet would ascend to the throne. It was their jostling which had inflamed their civil war and led to the Emblem of Blood. They had been the ones to dispose of royal heirs who looked as if they would be too hard to control and kidnapped children from their homes in hopes they would live long enough to finally ascend.
They had thought the same of him initially. They burdened him with endless wives to coerce his cooperation, and if he ever faltered, they struck, without regard to the resulting instability their actions would cause. Their short-eyed greed would destroy the country before their children could even reap the profits. Without geass, without the Geass Order, they might've won and steered Britannia to ruin.
"Our family is merely in need of assurance." Lord Walshe said. His smile stretched painfully and he gestured to his daughter. "Morale is poor after having served so faithfully for so long without reward. We have never conspired against you, Your Majesty, yet it feels as if our voices are unheard."
Charles would have to check with his advisors to see what foolish faction was brewing here. The lord was unfortunately not enough of an idiot to make such a demand if he was working alone.
"It has been a long time since you've taken a wife, Your—"
"No." She was fine enough looking and with his resources or geass, it would be simple enough to foil whatever scheme at play, but— Marianne was still taking great care in keeping him at arm's length and would not forgive him for any new unnecessary arm candy. He had hoped slaughtering some rebels would let her work out some frustrations, but clearly Lelouch was doing too good of a job keeping her bloodlust in check.
"My daughter is—"
Suddenly tired, Charles interrupted him, "I am old. I will be turning sixty-three this summer. Wives are for when blood runs hot, and no girl would wish to be with a man thrice her age."
Slight satisfaction glimmered behind Lord Walshe's eyes. The vultures were already inspecting their feathers. They knew they couldn't win against him. He had taught them that lesson again and again... but his heir? He had to wonder if this man was truly planning on his daughter bearing him a child and then slaughtering every other prince and princess to claim the seat of power.
"Even in old age, one's needs must be cared for, and with the Lady Marianne preoccupied on the front—"
Charles glowered.
"She would serve you well. You are her Emperor; of course she loves you, Your Majesty."
"And what does your daughter say?" he snapped and looked at her expectantly. "Well? Your life would be absolute misery."
Her eyes flicked to her father; there was a slight eagerness in his eyes that set Charles on edge, and belatedly he realized why the man had to be pushing for her. She would never win this game of inheritance. He knew that. But she would have one night with him, and it would be the best opportunity to assassinate him. She would be drawn and quartered afterwards, undoubtedly, but in the chaos, her father and his faction could push forward to claim power.
Her chin rose and she stared at him directly. "No, Your Majesty. I could never compare to the countless beauties at your side who've had years to learn to please you. But I agree with my father that our people feel neglected and a royal wedding would be ideal. A son or even a daughter could lay to rest our concerns."
The father was barely able to restrain himself as she smiled in unflinching defiance. Were Charles to turn around and dismiss her request as youthful overreach, she would most likely never smile again. It made him curious; it was a crack among what appeared to be a powerful emerging faction in the nobility; he would be a fool to not exploit it.
"And if you could choose, who would you wed?"
Was it a foolish crush that lent her the strength to defy her family? Or had she seen a route to chart her family's success without sacrificing her own life for their ambitions? Who would she choose?
Her smile slipped and her brow creased in concentration. Not a crush then, but an impulsive decision.
Odysseus was a good choice for the nobility. He seemed unassuming, easy to control. They would keep him happy as they claimed more power for themselves. Reality would be more disappointing. Odysseus lacked ambition, not a spine. He would not let the country drown under its own excess.
Guinevere, Cornelia, and the other girls were unlikely. Heirs were still important, and the eastern nobles had more of a traditionalist bent to them that tended to look down on adoption. Besides, no one would ever accept a child adopted into royalty.
Schneizel was out but had a decent chunk of the nobility clamoring at his feet. Clovis was dead. Antoninus maybe? He was too hard-headed to be a good puppet, but he might've allied with nobles covertly despite his house arrest. It was a real shame that his ego rendered his intellect useless. Emmanuel was insane. Perseus, perhaps, although he was a worse womanizer than Clovis. Christopher despised people and probably hadn't left his room in the past five years. Neoptolemos was too easy to manipulate to be of use to anyone.
What was son number nine? Gregorios. Hadn't he gone to the academy in hopes of being an officer? Or was that son number ten...
"Prince Lelouch, Your Majesty," she answered as her father's face turned an interesting shade of puce.
His eyebrows drew up in surprise and his mind wandered to the envelope he had sealed last night after a long discussion with Odysseus. Lelouch had been doing well for himself this past half-year despite the endless complaints that he had been too gentle with the Fifteens and the formal protests from the E.U. Foreign Minister that he was needlessly cruel. One day he would learn that trying to please both sides pleased none at all.
It would be nice to see him again next week when he returned to officially declare Area Fifteen stable and announce his appointee for the viceroyship. If only he wasn't so hesitant to use his geass.
Had he used it, he could have gained sway in the influential Hannover family. Charles had given him their younger son as one of Lelouch's generals for a reason. Instead, Lelouch let the fool dig his own grave.
At least the Hannover family was now shamed, but it utterly undermined Lelouch gaining noble allies.
Maybe if he forced Lelouch to sit in a room and listen to ten margraves squabble about water usage rights on the Colorado River he would be less hesitant in using his geass. Or he would come away even more insistent on abolishing instead of suppressing the nobility...
"I've been following his campaign," she added, startling him out of his thoughts. Nervously, she rambled on, "The economic recovery projects look quite promising and there've been minimal casualties on either side and Lady Stadtfeld is quite talented in a knightmare. Of course the entire point is to show our family is appreciated and it would be presumptuous to suggest Odysseus, but he and Prince Lelouch appear to get along quite well and—"
A half-raised arm was enough for her to fall abruptly silent.
"How old are you?"
"Twenty-one, Your Majesty."
They were close enough in age for it to be an amenable match, and Lelouch wouldn't protest if ordered, but was it beneficial to Lelouch? If the girl played her cards right, she would reap far greater rewards than she could foresee. That was if she didn't intend to assassinate the nobility's most hated prince.
"I will consider your proposal," Charles said and turned to her glowering father. "Your wife and daughter will present themselves before the end of the week at the royal palace. To partake in our hospitality should be enough of an honor. You meanwhile will remain here until the ship is finished."
With a flick of his hands, his guards coalesced around him, and he returned to shore. A small nod to his advisor permitted the man to distribute a handful of bills to the local begging children. It always helped one's public image to be magnanimous. With some luck, the resulting rumors would push them towards enlistment. Regardless, as long as the current Lord Walshe lived, they would not be receiving any more government contracts.
"Your Majesty," interrupted an advisor when he boarded the flight. "Prince Lelouch has submitted his request for the next Viceroy, one James Gill."
"Who?"
The man checked his notes. "He's currently working as the Sergeant Major in one of the Number divisions."
Charles fell into his seat and massaged his forehead. "A reminder of the folly of open-ended promises. A Number? Truly?"
"Actually, he has full Britannian citizenship. His mother was an Honorary who married a Britannian."
A viceroy had always been a noble; he was a fool to think Lelouch would stick with tradition when no laws barred him. Now, he would have to elevate some nobody to the peerage.
"He also married a Fifteen, nobody of importance."
Charles's eye twitched. Maybe he should just be glad that Lelouch hadn't taken it upon himself to marry a nobody. On the other hand, lobbing a noble wife at him was sounding incredibly appealing. "When Lelouch and the upcoming viceroy land, escort them without delay to the throne room."
He was going to make his ungrateful son wait for at least three hours.
"No refreshments are to be offered to them either."
How was it that Lelouch could be so smart yet so oblivious? What was wrong with choosing an amenable noble! The normal thing for a son to do was try and build a power base and wrest authority of the state away, not attack the very fabric of their society. The nobles would be up in arms—the upstart Duke of Texas, literally.
The advisor grimaced and took a hesitant seat. "He will only grow bolder."
Except he was supposed to. He had to step out of his shell and establish his own name. The only condition was not upending their system of power and privilege.
"Summon Sumeragi and have her in the palace before the day after tomorrow. And open a proper investigation into her. I want to know what she has for breakfast, her brand of toilet paper, the state of her laundry. Also transfer the Calhope boy to be his adjutant. There needs to be at least a somewhat moderating voice in his nest of radicals."
If only Marianne wasn't so hostile to arranged marriages. It would really solve quite a few headaches right now or, at least, let the headaches aggrieve each other instead of him.
Kyoto, Area Eleven
Kaguya stared listlessly at the gift Lelouch had sent her as Kubouin continued to dictate how Sumeragi Industries would support the JLF abroad. Discussions on treason could be so tedious.
While she could share political currents at courts, her opinions were not valued. She provided information, and if she planned ahead, presented policy using Kirihara's voice. She should be thankful that the Kyoto House had invited her at all to this meeting, instead of demanding a report as they squatted on her property. That decision had more to do with their dwindling numbers and the doubts on her loyalty.
As one of her fellow conspirators sneered at her, she dropped her gaze. Lelouch thought her crazy for inviting Britannian servants, likely spies, into her home. What he didn't understand was that the rest didn't serve her, but the Kyoto House. It would be so easy for them to order her death in the night. Or worse, for her to wake up one morning in a different bed. Her best hope lay with the Emperor's spies that undoubtedly waited amongst the Britannians who would fight to keep her as a pawn, alive, under Britannian control.
She had thought herself powerful in her web of spies and assassins. The knowledge it gained her allowed her to destroy reputations with a well placed whisper. It allowed her to turn Sumeragi Industries into an economic juggernaut. It should've been enough.
The truth was she was alone, without allies, and utterly at the mercy of powerful men and their whims—Lelouch included. He could gift her as many Japanese heirlooms he seized traipsing abroad as he wished; she would not forget that their interest did not align.
"Kaguya, Kaguya," Kubouin snapped.
She lifted her chin. "Yes?"
"I asked you a question," he said, irritated. As her silence stretched on, he scowled but obliged. "What is your progress on identifying Zero? This has been your task for years."
She knew the truth. It could buy her trust. "There have been no further leads." Why did she continue to protect him? "Only a rumor that Prince Lelouch's recent military achievements in pacifying Area Fifteen are actually Zero's work."
There probably was some such rumor somewhere.
His eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Is that the truth or are you just protecting your sweetheart before we think he is more trouble than he is worth?"
"Kubouin," Kirihara protested. "Watch your tone. Kaguya—"
Yoshino, the eldest among them all, inhaled in a long wheezy rattle. "Affection blinds you, Kirihara. As for you, Kubouin, make sure that your ambition does not poison the well. Still, Kaguya, your information regarding Prince Lelouch has not been accurate as of late. You painted him as amenable to the Numbers, yet we've seen none of that in his conduct in Area Fifteen. He wiped Mogadishu from the map because they refused to surrender."
"That was Empress Marianne," Kaguya weakly protested.
"And under whose command was she?" Yoshino snapped before succumbing to a coughing fit. "I've seen no kindness or remorse in his actions. The people there are terrified and will sell out their own neighbor to save their skin. The only thing I can concur with from your reports is that he is terrifyingly intelligent. In which case, I must assume he devised this current border skirmish between China and the MEF. The treaty which he worked on certainly inflamed their disagreements."
She lowered her gaze. "The Emperor intends to keep Zero a secret. It is unlikely for any agent to stumble across the truth with him being directly involved. I cannot give you more, nor can I ask my agents to oust themselves and thus destroy my entire network in the hopes of finding Zero. Please... I cannot tell you more."
"Yet you reap the profits," Kubouin said. "Why is it that only Sumeragi Industries flourishes? Your trading of favors only rewards yourself."
He was obviously one of their members who thought she had betrayed the cause. What he didn't say was that he had willfully accepted bribes from Britannian spies to look the other way before the invasion. His actions created countless security breaches in Japan's defenses.
Kirihara's foot brushed against her, and he discreetly shook his head, silencing the accusations on her tongue.
"I am blessed by competent subordinates," Kaguya said instead, "and Kirihiara's advice has been invaluable. I would be happy to lend them to you if it could strengthen the House."
A slight snort escaped Osakabe from his spot across from her. He hadn't said much this meeting, merely listening. The death of his father earlier last year meant he was new to these meetings and the second youngest. "I think the House would be strengthened by ensuring clear inheritance as the late Munakat's case clearly shows."
"The Emperor killed him," Kirihara added. "That he would ensure his business falls into Britannian hands is to be expected. It is fortunate that he agreed to let the estates pass to Kaguya's hands."
"That's exactly the problem," Kubouin snarled. "Why would he do that?"
"Once she marries a prince her business will belong to him," Osakabe answered with a false smile. "Breaking off the engagement would be hasty, but if she were to sign over her assets to a third party, it would ensure the integrity of the House. Don't you agree, Kirihara?"
She glared. "If you—"
Yoshino coughed. "A worthwhile suggestion, but there are more pliable princes which would reap greater returns."
Were they stupid? "Do you think—"
"Quiet, your elders are speaking," Yoshino suddenly reprimanded. He stood, leaning on his cane. "Sumeragi Industries had to flourish to grant us leverage in marriage negotiations, but it has now grown to be a liability. It would be best to be split-up and for the Sumeragi seat to pass to a relative."
Furious, she ignored Kirihara's pleading looks and shot to her feet. "Do you think I'll just allow you to?"
"Sit down! You are still a child. You are to listen and learn."
"It is my money that has been feeding the JLF these past few months! It is my information that tells them where it is safe to stay and who to trust. It is my blood that gives any of this enough legitimacy with the people."
"It's your father's money, girl. The one who you killed. It is Tohdoh's talent and preparation that has kept the JLF safe. And your cousin is the one who is recognized by the people." He paused, his eyes crossing, and he broke down into another coughing fit, each breath whistling and rattling in his desperate battle for life. "If you cannot recognize your own role, you are clearly not ready to attend these—"
The door banged open and the soldiers from the local garrison stomped inside and began ransacking the room. Their corporal sneered as he pushed his way forward and lifted up the financial reports on the table between them. "What are these?"
"My financial statements," Kaguya answered quickly. "If your officer wishes to review them, he is welcome to, but I will have to request he assigns the task to a lawyer due to potential conflicts of interests, as outline under Section 23.1.2 Subsection—"
The corporal dropped the papers with a thud and turned onto her. "The youngest of this Eleven cabal, Kaguya Sumeragi."
"You should tell your men to be more careful. I would hate to have to explain how Prince Lelouch's gifts ended up misplaced."
The effect was immediate. The five soldiers in the room carefully backed away from the cabinets and their antiques. It was always a wonder to see what effect a royal's name could have, and Lelouch's reputation had only strengthened these past few months as he proved to the world that he was quite Britannian.
Kaguya crossed her arms, staring down the man's sneer. "Do you have a reason for breaking down my door?"
The corners of his lips twitched upwards. "Take the girl. And gather up all the documents. She'll be needing them."
"Sir!" Kirihara protested, pushing himself between her and the advancing soldier. "What is the meaning of this?"
"Out of the way, Eleven," the soldier snapped, shoving him to the ground.
"Kirihara!" she screamed as his head cracked against the low table.
Thankfully, he groaned and shoved himself up on his elbows. "I must ask again—"
"This is preposterous!" Kuboin shouted, waving his arms. "You cannot just barge in here without a warrant. Where is your just cause?"
"A collection of traitors?" the corporal goaded. His hand fell on her arm, forcibly wrestling it behind her back and the cold metal of handcuffs captured her wrists. "Search the premises carefully. And detain these old men for questioning regarding this unsanctioned meeting."
Kirihara raised his hands in surrender, but his eyes were hard. "Please, let me accompany her. She is just a child."
"I am sure this is just a misunderstanding," Kaguya tried, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn't want to die yet. Or be tortured. "If you would let me call Lelouch then I am sure we could clear—"
A bag fell over her head.
Well, shit.
Her tongue ran over the capsule hidden in her back tooth. Whatever awaited her would not be pleasant. She should take her own life and spare herself the pain. It would protect her agents at least and ensure her secrets would never see the light of day. Except... Lelouch's desperate plea rang in her mind: survive.
"Where are we going?" Kaguya asked. She received no answer.
At one point, the guards surrounding her changed, their quiet voices swapped for new, unfamiliar accents who spoke even less. From there, she was transferred to yet another car, and then the familiar rumble of a plane began beneath her. Things were not going well.
Disoriented, starving, and desperately having to pee, the hood was finally ripped free, and she blinked rapidly to reorient herself against the sudden brightness. Unfortunately, she recognized the room; the Emperor had summoned her.
"Your Majesty," she rasped, barely able to move her parched tongue. The handcuffs left her wobbling precariously as she attempted to kneel deferentially.
"Leave us," the Emperor ordered and rose from his throne. Her tongue ran over the poison capsule again as he approached and circled her like a tiger stalking its prey. "Do you know why I have summoned you?"
"No, Your Majesty." She managed to keep her voice steady. The Emperor only respected strength. It didn't matter that she had spent however many hours traveling without a single sip of water or a chance to relieve herself. If she showed a hint of weakness, he would pounce. "I am at your service."
His hand reached down behind her and the handcuffs finally fell free. She resisted the urge to rub her wrists.
"You may begin by going over your financial reports." He gestured at the pile of her folders and binders. "I merely want to assure there are no discrepancies."
"Of course, Your Majesty," she forced out. She had done her best to hide the flow of money, but to have the Emperor looking over her shoulder as she opened a five year old binder sent beads of sweat running down her back. Her throat meanwhile was painful in its dryness, and her bladder was screaming for relief. "Should I begin now?"
He nodded, and she folded her legs beneath her carefully as she began listing the expenses. Her eyes watered, and the syren call of sleep tugged at her eyes. Twenty pages in, she nearly doubled over as her stomach panged in protest and her vision clouded with swarming black dots.
"Can you speak no more?" the Emperor asked as her voice gave out on the fiftieth page.
Biting her tongue to stop the tears, she forced herself to nod. It was a weakness she could not afford to show.
"Take her to her room," the Emperor ordered as he summoned a servant.
Her rooms were those of a distinguished guest, befitting her station. The lock still clicked, barring her inside, a prisoner. Unable to focus, she rushed to the bathroom. She received no dinner and satiated herself with the water from the sink.
At five a.m. she was roused again although this time she was brought to the Emperor's office.
"Continue," he ordered.
Weak and barely able to focus from hunger, she picked up the binder and continued where she left off.
At lunch, the Emperor ate as she pushed through the reports and tried to answer his occasional question. For him, it was a show. He was barely paying attention, instead reading through his own documents or occasionally staring longingly out of the window. The day ended with her fainting.
"Thank you for the meal," Kaguya said on the third day.
The smile he rewarded her sent chills down her spine. He was winning, and she had no idea what she could've done to anger him.
"Do you wish to have lunch?" he asked as she finally set down the binder and picked up another. "You have not been eating enough." At his words, a servant ducked inside and discreetly set down his meal. There was only a single portion.
"Yes, Your Majesty. I would appreciate that very much," she whispered.
"You will have to speak more clearly," he reprimanded.
She staggered to her feet and curtsied despite the excruciating cramps in her legs—he had never offered her a chair or desk to do her work. "I would be honored to have lunch, Your Majesty."
"Have a seat," he offered, gesturing across from him.
She pulled up a stool and sat down, waiting for his next move. She was so exhausted.
"You have not asked why you are here," the Emperor noted as he cut his steak. He slowly chewed, studying her.
"Why am I here, Your Majesty?" she asked hollowly. She wanted to go home.
"You should be careful of what associates you keep," the Emperor said. "Your finances and your company's are needlessly complicated. What would happen if I were to dig?"
She stared up at him. "I cannot imagine, Your Majesty. You are of course free to. I would not dare to hide anything from you."
He set down his knife and tapped his finger along the edge of his desk. "Tell me, have you been following Lelouch's progress in Area Fifteen?"
"Yes, Your Majesty." Far too closely for her own mental wellbeing. The reports only highlighted how far he had drifted from her.
"You have not had much to say," the Emperor noted with a frown. He pushed his meal towards her. "Eat. If you were to waste away, Lelouch would be most cross with me, even if you have been giving him the cold shoulder. I thought I instructed you otherwise."
Hesitantly, she grabbed the plate. There were no spare utensils. It was either share or use her hands; she picked up the steak with the tips of her fingers and bit into it. The meat was tender and delicate, easy enough to rip with her teeth. "Has Lelouch complained of my attitude?"
"Of course not." He leaned back. "But you know your role, and it is not to extort him for your former country's relics."
"I never asked him to."
"Why does he feel it is necessary?"
She really shouldn't have blown up on Lelouch on his birthday. "We had a disagreement over how he is raising the two children under his care."
"Will they not have the best education their kind could ever hope for?"
Her teeth ground together and she picked up a cooked carrot to focus her anger on. "I am also an Eleven, Your Majesty."
"You are not. You have an exemplary education for one; I made sure of it. You would have been an attractive partner for an engagement to one of my children prior to Japan's invasion. There is much that separates you from the actual Elevens.
It was still her culture, but she wasn't stupid enough to shout it into his face. At least Lelouch understood that. He knew why she was upset that he took two Japanese children and denied them their names. He had simply done it anyway.
"If you don't wish to elaborate on your own actions, perhaps you can explain Lelouch's. He wishes to install the son of a Number as the Viceroy of Area Fifteen. If I allow it, the nobility will despise him for it. Bar a few exceptions, he will lose nearly all support with them."
She ripped off another chunk of meat and chewed thoughtfully. "A commoner, especially with Number blood, will be more indebted to him than a noble. The noble might even demand more, but the man Lelouch chose will always be thankful to him and thus more likely to listen to Lelouch in how the Area should be administered.
"Yet it loses him so much," the Emperor countered.
"He doesn't want to be the Emperor," she reminded him quietly. Although why did Lelouch have any input at all in who would be the next viceroy? "Still, you should allow it."
His eyebrows rose. "I was going to, but it would certainly be not for your reasons."
"How much of what I read in the papers is actually Lelouch?" she asked. "I know if it had been one of his other brothers, the carnage would've been far worse, yet I doubt anyone else has really cared for the distinction with the heavy casualties the civilians are taking. If Lelouch wants a chance at solving conflicts without resorting to Britannian policies, he needs to signal he's open to non-Britannians. I think he wishes to minimize bloodshed in the future."
The Emperor leaned back with a slight amused shake of his head. "With anyone else, I would call you naive, but you are right. I told him to hold the Area like a Britannian, and thus he has, always finding ways to soften the blow. It rather undermines the entire point."
"I'm glad," Kaguya whispered.
"Finish your food and resume your work," he ordered.
Day three was quiet. She sat on a stool as she worked on the opposing side of the desk. Her lunch was once again the Emperor's leftovers.
Day four, she finally finished.
"Your Majesty?" She closed the last binder. "Do you have any issues with my accounting?"
He stared at the binder in silence. "I would advise to prevent a situation where I would ask a professional to peruse them."
How much did he know of her activities?
He picked up a stack of forms on his side of the desk and dumped them on her side. "You may begin working on these."
What was the entire point of this? If he thought her a threat, she would already be dead. There was no reason for him to personally oversee her efforts to justify every expenditure. He should've left such a task to an accountant. They would've done a better job.
And now she had more work, the endless assignments continuing to chain her to his office and allowing him to play his little power game.
Her hand cramping and her stomach panging, she set down her pen late in the evening and looked out the pitch dark windows. At least the Emperor was suffering with her. His stack of paper only seemed to grow despite the countless hours he spent diligently going through them.
She was starting to sympathize with Lelouch's complaints over being roped into such a mundane punish—
"Your Majesty?" she asked abruptly. "Is this because you are displeased with Lelouch?"
The Emperor's pen paused, the only sign he had heard her impudent question. Finally, it resumed once more. "You should take care not to engage closely with those so clearly seeking treason."
Yet when dinner came, the servant brought two plates.
Sydney, Australia
As Leila stepped onto the Australian streets, grief assailed her, like a tidal wave breaking on the shore. This was where her life had ended. Where she had misplayed her hand and put Jeanne—her best friend, her sister—into danger. Where an unassuming prince made a name for himself at the expense of everyone else.
She wasn't ready to come back here yet. She wasn't ready to acknowledge everything she lost in the midst of her endless justifications that she would make this worth it. A lone tear broke free and she hastily rubbed it away. While her governess, the Emperor's spy, wasn't accompanying her for once, it did not mean she was safe. She still had a part to play.
Ahead, she spotted Lelouch, the crowd instinctively parting around a powerful Britannian in their midst. His hat and sunglasses did little to conceal his status when his clothes clearly cost more than most people's yearly salary. It was a far cry from how he had easily blended into the crowd last year.
"Your Highness," she greeted him respectfully and a passerby flinched, picking up his pace. Australia might be independent, but the Empire's terror compelled even their citizens.
"Let's go," Lelouch grumbled. He looked out into the crowd, nodding, and then stuffed his hands in his pockets as he began to walk. "I trust you had no problem with the pass I sent you?"
"I dealt with ten minutes of security fawning over it before they spent another half an hour verifying its integrity. You could digitalize things, you know. It would be so much more efficient, and hand writing isn't too difficult to forge."
"We'd lose stamp taxes," he answered absently.
She shook her head at the absurdity. She had considered pretending there was a problem and staving off this meeting. Lelouch hadn't explicitly called in his favor, leaving her an unsettling amount of freedom in whether she wanted to cooperate. Oberstein took that choice out of her hands. As she was finally of age, she would remove the documents from her family safe and make a copy to deliver to him.
"I hear from Nunnally you've been doing good work," he said as they entered the financial district with its glamorous buildings and frantically rushing businessmen.
"In not torturing people?" She crossed her arms and continued more quietly, "Will it be frowned upon if I ask for leave to attend to my estate?"
"You've been doing well organizing investigations and ensuring their fruitful endeavors." He offered her a slight smile. "They would suffer a loss in your absence, but it is not frowned upon. Hunting down traitors has given you a good enough reputation to soothe the suspicions of many nobles. After all, who wouldn't join Britannia after tasting her fruits?" He laughed bitterly. "Take the break and look for some regional security assignments. It'll keep you away from more unfavorable aspects."
She studied him intently, but he refused to meet her eyes and she was left at a loss. She didn't understand him. His actions in Area Fifteen had been brutal and undoubtedly Britannian, but here he was giving her advice.
"Thank you," she said, "but I would rather not be stuck in a dead end post. My father's estates are incredibly impoverished and I have my debt to repay to the crown—"
"I can clear your debt."
She scoffed. "Feeling guilty over having dragged me into this mess?"
"No."
"If I must stay here, I'm going to make something of my life. I'm going to help people, and I can't do that if I constantly have the Emperor questioning my motives, so I need to prove myself." What she didn't say was she needed to earn the Emperor's trust. How to do that without compromising her own values, she wasn't sure yet, but she had one advantage: he would underestimate her.
"Don't be stupid," Lelouch hissed.
Leila rolled her eyes. "By saving lives? Someone has to work to balance out your death toll."
He fell silent and picked up the pace, effectively ending their conversation. She hadn't been able to read him well before, but he was becoming even more opaque. She was in his debt, bound by her sense of honor to fulfill the two favors she owed him. She wasn't sure she could stomach that if he looked at her with the Emperor's eyes, forever unknowable and indiscernible. Maybe Akito was right. It would be best to kill him.
In an awkward silence, they entered the bank and Lelouch gestured for her to go ahead as he dropped into an armchair and picked up the local newspaper. He looked at the front page, the image of the French ambassador who was in Djibouti hanging from the gallows, and flipped over the newspaper to begin working on the crosswords on the back.
How was anyone able to reconcile his actions, his words, and his attitude? They were all at odds with each other. Even worse, he was a phenomenal liar and actor.
The bank teller greeted her politely as he discreetly hid his protein bar. "We're all a bit tired. 1453 dropped yesterday and I swear half of us were up all night," he said idly as he entered her name. "Supposedly you can save the city but so far I keep dying for being a spy, but the world... You can enter every house and talk to the people there. I know I'm supposed to help defend the city, but I kept getting side tracked by side quests. There's this one where you have to find an old lady's cat. Hmm. Can you spell your name again?"
"Try the last name Malcal," she said with some bitterness.
"Although I guess you don't really have the tech to run such games in Britannia. Must be a mighty shame."
Her smile felt tight. "I'm from the EU originally. I remember when they announced development for it five years ago. My friend and I..." Feeling heartbroken over a silly video game was ridiculous. Even if she hadn't been duped and stayed in the EU, the chances that she would have had time to engage in such frivolous pursuits was miniscule. Even if she had promised Jeanne she would play it with her.
The bank teller's friendly smile fell. "I'm sorry ma'am, there's a lock on your account. Can I see your ID?"
Glad that she had brought her old French ID with the Malcal last name, she passed it over. "Is there a problem?"
"I'm not sure," he answered as he examined it carefully and pulled out a magnifying glass. He frowned, turning to his computer again. "Would you mind answering some verification questions?"
She sighed but obliged, going through her parents' name, their favorite foods, and other half-remembered minutia. She had absolutely no idea what model her father's first car was.
He frowned again. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but there's a lock on your account. While you do seem to be the account holder..."
She closed her eyes, counting down from ten. If she failed, what would Oberstein do? "Can you tell me why I can't access it? Perhaps there is a misunderstanding I can clear up."
Avoiding her eyes, he answered, "There is a concern you might be coerced and not acting independently."
The statement struck her like a slap across the face. She was being coerced. She had no choice in the matter. But— "Is it really the bank's right to make that assumption?"
"Ma'am"—his voice lowered—"I saw you enter with that man behind you. If you are in danger, I can take you back while security handles him."
Her head dropped into her hands and she bit back a frustrated scream. Her home was calling her, giving her once again a chance to return. Such a move would only bring her even more misery, but why did she have to be tempted again and again?
The bank teller suddenly stiffened, and she lifted her head to see Lelouch approaching. His smile was deceptively soft.
"Are you alright, Leila?" he asked.
She slumped in her seat, utterly exhausted. "I'm fine. This is just turning out to be more complicated than I expected."
That dangerous smile turned to the bank teller. "Can I help?"
The man shot to his feet, his chair tipping over and drawing the attention of the entire room. "Excuse me, I need to get my manager."
Watching him flee, she said dryly, "I think he recognized you."
"Having your face in all the papers is damn inconvenient," he grumbled and grabbed the neighboring chair. After a moment of hesitation, he pulled out his phone and sent a brief text, presumably to his guards who had to be accompanying him. "Anything I can do?"
Her voice sickeningly sweet, she said, "If you could convince them that Britannia is not coercing me, that would be great."
"Well, fuck."
A portly man approached with two guards at his back and a collection of other employees trailing behind. "Your Highness, if we could take this somewhere private?"
Lelouch eyed them warily before silently agreeing by standing and offering her his arm.
Inside the manager's fifth floor office, they took a seat, and the man forced a smile that did nothing to hide the hatred in his eyes. "I understand you're here for the Malcal accounts."
"She is. I'm simply here to smooth over paperwork concerns at the airport."
"Sure and Britannia hasn't been demanding access for over a decade."
"Sir," Leila interrupted. "Thank you for protecting my family's property but it is imperative that I access my vault. If you are concerned, we could enter and merely look, not removing anything from the vault."
"That you say 'we' is enough of a reason to suspect foul play," he answered. His gaze swung back to Lelouch. "Tell your father that this latest ploy has failed."
"You'd deny a daughter the chance to look at her deceased father's possessions? I'm here merely for support. If it eases your mind, I won't step a foot inside the vault."
"As it is unclear whether Ms. Malcal is acting on her own volition, I cannot allow her access either. We have reviewed the submitted evidence and found it credible."
"And how do I appeal that decision?" Leila snapped.
"You are still merely a guest in Britannia, are you not?" The manager shrugged. "You have not taken oaths of loyalty to their emperor nor are you in a position of financial stability. Furthermore, it's been merely a year since your circumstances have changed. Britannians are also quite fond of foul play. You should thank us, ma'am, for ensuring your property never falls into unscrupulous hands."
Unfortunately, he was correct, and if she wasn't utterly terrified how Oberstein—who had already poisoned her—would retaliate, she might even be thankful.
"I would suggest reconsidering," Lelouch warned.
The manager chuckled. "You will not find any sympathetic ears in our government. Our president has agreed that this should be our official stance. There's really no point in engaging in pointless saber rattling; you already invaded New Zealand last time we denied access."
"Lelouch," she said, grabbing his hand before he could overplay his hand. He didn't have any leverage here unless he went back to the Emperor to present his case. "There's nothing we can do."
The manager bared his teeth. "And as a reminder, the late Lord Breisgau asked for the contents of his vault to be destroyed should Britannia invade."
"Thank you for your time," Lelouch ground out, the muscles in his neck stiff with anger, "and for explaining the situation to us."
She tugged his hand insistently, practically dragging him out of the bank before he could say something he would regret. Once outside, he let out a frustrated groan and anxiously paced the sidewalk.
"What does it matter to you?" Unlike her, he didn't have to worry about retaliation over this failure.
He stopped and exhaled loudly. "My father is undoubtedly irritated—"
"Whatever for?" She continued on, ignoring his glare, "I've read the news. You appear to have done an excellent job in Area Fifteen. All those murders are happily done in your name. The EU is humiliated by losing their ambassador in such a public execution. All those towns and cities officially recognize your authority."
"If I fucked up, it's not like you would hear about it." He slumped and suddenly he sounded so exhausted. "My father undoubtedly has a stack of complaints from former General Ewell and other officers because I refused to let their troops rape and pillage rebellious settlements. Or that I helped the locals investigate and prosecute a case of sexual assault by one of the noble officers. Then they'll complain that I should've turned the dead into a public display instead of giving them a respectful burial. That I provided free rations to the locals. That I ordered our doctors to treat everyone, regardless of origin. That I invited local leaders to negotiate instead of razing their territory.
"I've had to arrest and execute my own men for treason because they spread rumors that I was actually working for the fucking EU while knowing nobles put those words in their mouth. There are so many ways I could've angered him and that's before I even consider how much my mother must be whining to him about me not allowing her to murder enough people!"
"Does it matter? If I piss him off, I'm dead. You're his son. You can do what you want."
"That didn't save Clovis," Lelouch mumbled darkly. "I know he won't hurt me, directly at least. He rarely does that anyway. It's crude for him."
She snorted. She remembered well enough how he had ordered her to be tasered until she finally knelt and acknowledged his authority.
"He's good at finding what you care about and using it against you. To win against him... Well, you'd have to care about nothing, and my father likes people like that because they have no reason to turn against him when he is the one who offers them power. The only other way is to be so far beneath his notice that he ignores you. If I stopped caring... I'd be just like him and nothing would change after he dies, and he'd win."
But he would continue to submit and it would just as surely kill his heart as well.
"We should get some food here before we leave," she said suddenly. "Then this trip won't have been a complete waste. Britannian food is the worst."
"Leila," he protested ineffectively as she pulled him forward.
"Everything is always fried," she complained. "And what's your obsession with sliced bread? It doesn't even taste like bread. And if I want any bit of spice to it, I need to pay an arm and a leg!"
He jerked backwards. "And when people realize who I am, I'll find a knife in my side. Do you know how many refugees there are here?"
She huffed. "You used to be much better at blending into a crowd."
A black haired woman, foreign looking, appeared at their side. Dark shadows under her eyes gave her a rather sickly appearance. "Don't get him started on how his mother burnt all his nice clothes." The distinct noble accent washed away all doubts. This woman was Britannian. "Buy yourself something more subtle. I saw a used goods store on the way here. I want to check if they have a gaming console."
Lelouch gave her a long suffering look. "Leila, Kallen."
"Nice clothes?" Leila asked, looking at his finely tailored suit, undoubtedly made of only the finest material.
Kallen chuckled. "Those are his posh clothes. Empress Marianne got fed up with all of his stuff not fitting properly, and he hasn't had the opportunity to fix his wardrobe since then."
"Why?"
She raised an eyebrow. "You'll see."
The owner of the small rundown tourist shop they invaded gaped at the very obviously upper class Britannians. Perhaps, she would've calmed down had Kallen allowed Lelouch to approach the woman instead of physically insisting on being between the two of them at all times. A few minutes later as Lelouch quietly perused the racks, her face became deathly pale, and Leila winced at the phone in her hand.
"Please remain calm, ma'am." Leila dropped a few Britannian bills on the counter, hoping that they would be accepted. She hadn't bothered to change her legal tender before exiting the airport. "We'll be out of your hair soon, I swear."
"They're just jeans!" Kallen suddenly shouted in frustration from the back.
"No, they're not! They have so much plastic I could wear them in a gas attack—"
"Oh for fuck's sake!"
"Then buy one for yourself if you're so insistent—"
Leila cringed and turned to the woman in apology. Was it an act? To play into EU propaganda because the last time they were in Australia, he had most assuredly worn commoner attire without a problem?
Yet when the two returned to the front of the store, dressed in their fresh attire, the grimaces on their face spoke volume. Kallen managed a polite expression and paid a generous tip.
"I hate European clothes," Lelouch grumbled as they stepped outside.
Leila looked down at her own shirt which was one of the few items she had from before. It didn't look that out of place in Britannia, not to the extent that it would be met with such vitriol. Yet there was something that Lelouch and Kallen immediately noticed, easily identifying which shops they passed were serving Britannian foreign nationals.
Regardless of her title and the endless hours devoted to study, Leila would never fit into Britannian society. One had to be born there, raised in that culture, to have a chance of navigating the hopeless intricacies. She would always be a permanent outsider.
At least the day was fun; the food, a welcome relief. Kallen and Lelouch had spent way too many hours admiring some handheld gaming device which Leila only realized later was of Japanese origin. He once again seemed like the boy she had come to know the last time he was here—a far cry from the murderous tyrant the front page of every local newspaper proclaimed him to be.
"Thank you for insisting on this," Kallen said as they slowly made their way back to the airport. She had fallen slightly behind although her eyes kept a constant vigil. "He needed a chance to relax before facing the Emperor."
"He said a bit about his generals not liking his ideas." Shaking her head, Leila lowered her voice. "What I don't understand is why he insists on playing a rigged game. He couldn't even stop Empress Marianne rampaging through Mogadishu. What's he even hoping to accomplish by gouging out his own heart?"
Kallen was quiet for a minute and the sterile air of the airport washed over them as they stepped inside. "That wasn't Empress Marianne. We were following his orders."
Leila froze, staring at the young woman who could scarcely be older than herself. We? How could she be involved in such a heinous act? Someone like Empress Marianne she could vaguely understand. That woman's reality warped around the Emperor and left no room for anything else. How could anyone join her in something like that? The city once had a population of four million, undoubtedly inflated by fleeing refugees hoping to smuggle themselves to India.
"Stadtfeld," Kallen answered the unspoken question. The pilot known as the Red Devil who was quickly making a name for themselves as the Butcher's protégée.
"How could you?" Leila asked as they stopped before the international departures.
"They refused to surrender," Lelouch answered, his voice tightly controlled. His dead eyes stared at her. "Have a good flight, Lady Breisgau. I suggest finding an assignment closer to home."
Her hands shook as they left, ushered to a private gate by security. How many had he killed? If she was going to succeed in this mad scheme she concocted with Akito, how many would die as she stood by and watched?
She settled herself, pulled out her Britannian passport, and passed it to the young man at the counter. Assassinating Lelouch would stop some death but enrage the Emperor; he would be replaced by another disposable son or daughter. It had to be worth it; she would make it worth it.
Unless Britannia fell, it was not enough.
Imperial Palace, New Pendragon, Area Three
While the Emperor had calmed, no longer turning every interaction into a demand for submission, Kaguya was still effectively a prisoner at the palace. She was roused every morning at five and dragged to the Emperor's office to begin work on classifying petitions from various nobles. Had she the energy to spare to process and understand anything she was reading, it would've been a boon of intelligence gathering.
For lunch, they would go out to the inner gardens as the Emperor longingly eyed the marigolds and offhandedly mentioned how Marianne had been involved in various elements of the garden's design. That the marital problems she noticed during Lelouch's official birthday festivities had not been resolved was becoming depressingly obvious.
At least dinner was usually a solitary affair as the Emperor disappeared to either hold court or attend cabinet meetings. She meanwhile would be left with one of his guards to review every security incident that happened throughout the day. Then at ten in the evening, she would finally be allowed to retire.
If it weren't for her training under Sayoko, she would have already collapsed from exhaustion, but she wasn't sure how much more of this she could take. She wasn't even sure if the Emperor intended to torture her; he barely took a moment to care for his own needs and always had his nose buried in a report when he walked into a room. Honestly, the man desperately needed a secretary... or twenty.
For lunch today, they were sitting under the east gazebo with a small pile of sweets in the middle of the table. For once, she had actually managed to finish her morning stack, and the Emperor seemed to be in a strangely good mood.
"I think that should clear up in the next few days," he said as he pushed aside his meal. "Has your company done any business with the Duke of Texas?"
"Unfortunately," she answered, grimly reminded that they were probably scrambling in panic, unsure whether she was even alive. "He is unnecessarily pompous and his wife is too invested in me having time alone with her sons."
"They are working with the Walshe family now," he said, which clarified nothing. His fingers reached for a sweet before stopping halfway and drumming against the table anxiously. "Your old plutocrats had a meeting with him yesterday."
Maybe it was better for her to be here. She could at least not be accused of treasonous activity while working directly under the Emperor's watchful gaze. How much did he know of her activities anyway? He had to suspect something.
His lips pressed together, working on a puzzle known only to him, and he reclined slowly. "What is your opinion on the recent border conflict in the Middle East? While most of it is concentrated on the Eastern side with China, there is a surprising amount of activity in the West."
She popped one of the sweet doughy balls in her mouth. "I'm not sure why they haven't been able to come to a peaceful arrangement. The M.E.F. must be accepting a great amount of refugees. Their government cannot handle that influx and a war at the same time."
"But China demands they censure the E.U. and Britannia and allow them to have a presence in the damn canal. I was expecting them to declare war against us. Their neighbors have most certainly been pressing them to."
Frowning, Kaguya considered the situation which set her stomach churning in anxiety. The situation was too precarious. The last three nations all had stakes at play, and if they were not careful, the careful balance of business arrangements and economic ties would collapse. "I would have thought Schneizel would have calmed the Chinese warmongers. He has always spoken against—"
The Emperor pinched his nose. "I should have let his mother drown him. No. Schneizel will do whatever is expedient for him."
"The M.E.F Minister of Foreign Affairs seemed to like Lelouch at least," Kaguya offered.
He sighed. "Befriend the young daughter of Lord Walshe tomorrow and evaluate how much of a threat she is to Lelouch. How quickly could you collect people who used to work in shipping?"
She blinked. Most of them had already been swept up by the JLF. "Finding them is less of a problem than security... Also I would need permission from—"
"No matter. It would be through a shell subsidiary. As long as you can promise the talent, you will receive a cut of the profits."
"Thank you, Your Majesty?" Kaguya was utterly lost. "What is tomorrow?"
"Lelouch will be returning." The Emperor paused. "It would be best not to relay this week's incident with him. He has enough on his plate."
Her stomach twisted uncomfortably at the stern warning in his gaze. He had already asked her to betray Lelouch's trust, and she had refused him. Lying to him? She was not going to be able to spin her way out of this. She took an anxious sip of water. "Of course, Your Majesty."
The Emperor grabbed one of the sweets, rolling it between his fingers. She drained the rest of her water and grabbed the pitcher.
"Do you think your old family friends have your best interests at heart?" the Emperor asked.
"Do you?" she countered, then winced. "My apologies. I only meant that everyone has ulterior intentions."
"And what was that ulterior motive then when you killed your father?"
"I didn't." Her heart pounded in her ears. She was feeling quite ill.
"From another child, I might have believed that you failed to realize the consequences." He smiled and popped the sweet into his mouth. "You knew."
Sugar. A common masking agent. She was so, so thirsty.
"I think those are poisoned," she said weakly as her vision clouded.
Vaguely, she noticed that he caught her before she fell onto the stone tile floor.
Time for book 3 to begin...
Thank you Nektry, Gabriel, Lily, Dark, and Jarod for all your hard work with betaing..
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