OR1-EP3: The Bloody Coat of Arms (2)

It wasn't until after returning from Governor-general Herzog's mansion that McNeil thought of a crucial blunder. It was true that a prolonged discharge of a highly toxic substance into a river could turn it into a poisonous river, but the effects of a few toxins were simply negligible. In this way, the judgment McNeil made at the time was a failure, and poisoning the river would not have caused any harm to those natives. It wasn't McNeil's responsibility; he hadn't seen a real ocean or river in decades, and Tiberias had turned all these bodies of water into hotbeds for growing Tiberias. But McNeil still blamed himself whenever he thought back on the blunder. Recklessness and self-righteousness had cut short the lives of more than a hundred men who hadn't had to lose their lives in vain in a hellhole like this, and who couldn't have predicted that the scheming Colonel Duttmann would go back on his word. Whether from the standpoint of morality or profit, McNeil had to faithfully fulfill his obligation to let those dead rest in peace. He didn't want to think any more about the natives; there was no turning back for a man with their blood on his hands, but to run wildly down the unalterable road until his car was destroyed.

He still had a lot of things he couldn't worry about, which naturally included Old Jake. Old Jake had no children, and when he died the three million euros would probably only be left to McNeil, but McNeil had never seen the money as his rightful property. McNeil didn't care about money, and he had rarely really had to worry about making ends meet in the past. With his adoptive father being one of the most powerful military commanders in the world, and even the head of the NOD Brotherhood in the Eastern Hemisphere being a puppet of James Solomon, McNeil's youth had been a smooth ride, and his real suffering had begun in middle age. Nonetheless, McNeil had always considered what he had suffered to be nothing compared to those born into poverty, and would have preferred to distribute his money to the poor if he had been given the chance.

"In a few days, I'm going to the Britannian Empire, and it may be a long time before I return." Michael McNeil said goodbye to the old Jake, "You take care of yourself, when I come back, I will try to find a way to get you to the mainland of Europe to retire ... this place is not suitable for the elderly."

Father Alexandros Palaskas approached McNeil a short time later and told him about McNeil's new identity. Michael McNeil was already a black man in the ground, and all the documents related to his identity were forged by the Defense Army, so now forging one more identity wouldn't be a big deal, and the Britannia Empire would only be confused by the false information. Currently, Michael McNeil's identity was that of a young businessman who had traveled to the Britannian Empire with Father Palaskas for a charity event, with Francois Malcal vouching for him. As soon as he heard this claim, McNeil went with his intuition that it was unreliable; he didn't talk or act like a merchant at all, and he was bound to be exposed in a short period of time after he went to the Britannian Empire.

"That's alright then, the Governor-general has decided to bring in someone to seriously teach you how to speak." Father Palaskas held back his laughter and said in a serious manner, "I look forward to you becoming a qualified merchant."

"Forget it, it can't be learned-" McNeil grunted.

"Just don't push your luck; the Governor-general said you have the skills to do so, so you'll be able to do it."

On top of that, Priest Palaskas reminded McNeil that the Britannian Empire was a land of strict hierarchies, and the line between commoners and nobles was as impenetrable as a moat of heaven. A rogue citizen like McNeil, who treated an army colonel or even a governor-general casually, would have been arrested and swiftly executed in the Britannian Empire. Even the EU government often warned citizens traveling to Britannia for tourism or work that they must abide by the local rules, not to bring their freewheeling style to the Britannian Empire, and even more so, not to propagate remarks to Britannians that they shouldn't say.

This large unofficial delegation brought together many of the EU's best and brightest, ranging from clerics like Alexandros Palaskas to many businessmen, engineers, and scientists, and their purpose in visiting Britannia was to publicize charitable activities and to call upon the countries to lean more towards the civilian sector in future technological research and development in order to improve the quality of life of the people in a direct way. Palaskas himself was naturally the main attraction, having gotten wind that he was expected to be promoted to Bishop as long as he was able to complete the event successfully - however, the Church had said the same thing last time. McNeil joked with Father Palaskas that the Church was just as unreliable as the Defense Force, never delivering on its promises. The priest was not offended, but said that the Church was a place where seniority was based on age, and that a young man like him probably had little hope of promotion.

McNeil, who had been inserted into the delegation, was dressed in a suit and went with the priest to the airport, where other members of the delegation were waiting for them. The priest instructed McNeil that no one within the entire delegation knew McNeil's true identity other than the priest himself, so he hoped that McNeil would never give himself away in casual conversation.

"Do I look like that kind of person?" McNeil looked as if he had been provoked, "You don't trust me then, this is an insult to me."

As expected, McNeil acted so coldly from the beginning that the crowd thought he was just a bodyguard for Father Palaskas. Once the members of the delegation, who were talking animatedly to each other, had boarded the airplane, McNeil chose the seat next to the priest and then fell into a deep sleep in a matter of two minutes. The priest shook his head helplessly, sat down next to McNeil, and began to pray earnestly. Only prayer could make him forget all the troubles of the world; life was short, and both too much emptiness and too much fulfillment were a form of torture.

When McNeil woke up, the airplane had already arrived at Pendragon, the capital of the Britannian Empire. He looked out along the window, and the first thing he noticed was that the architecture of the airport was very retro, a remarkable difference from those buildings in EU that were designed to be uniform for the sake of efficiency. Even the ground crew's clothing looked like it had been drilled out of a painting from the 1st century of the Republican Calendar (19th century of the A.T.B. Calendar), and McNeil surmised that the gaudy, but impractical, garments must have caused a lot of inconvenience in the daily lives of the citizens of the Britannian Empire.

He wanted to be the first to step off the plane, but he recalled the admonition of Father Palaskas and dutifully stayed behind the priest. The group made their way towards the immigration office, where staff were dutifully questioning everyone about their identities and motives, even though the staff might have learned from the media that they were foreigners who had traveled specifically to attend a charity event.

"Name?"

"Michael McNeil." McNeil replied lazily to the staff member wearing glasses in front of him.

"Age?"

"Twenty-eight."

"That says 29." The staff member asked suspiciously.

"Huh? Is there such a thing?" McNeil realized that he had made another serious mistake, "Oh ... our family's method of calculating age is different from the official one, I remembered it wrong, sorry."

McNeil was worried that this mistake had caused alarm on the part of the Britannian Empire, but fortunately it was only a gap, and the cross-examination thereafter ended without any danger. As if relieved, McNeil immediately followed the priest's footsteps, where they still had to wait for the representative sent by the side of the Britannian Empire to greet them. The representative should have arrived earlier, instead of making the delegation wait here, it seemed that the Britannian side was not friendly and had made up its mind to give the EU a hard time.

"I see it's not so bad here, not as bad as I thought."

"Brother, you should take a look at the numbered areas." Seeing that no one was around, Priest Palaskas said cautiously, "The situation in their numbered areas is much worse than our colonies, some parts of South America are simply hell on earth."

"How the hell of is that?" Despite knowing the danger this conversation could bring, McNeil couldn't hold back his curiosity.

"Life is worse than death." The priest sighed, "Moreover, not only the commoners ... there are discriminated against along with the nobles born there. It's a situation like our Governor-General in South Africa, His Excellency, has not been getting native attention."

Just as they were still discussing these unfavorable topics for Britannia, a startled cry from a Britannian caught their attention. A young man in a tuxedo was striding towards the priest with his head held high, born with typical Britannian looks, but with eyes and nose like an Aryan - a race of people proposed in a pseudo-scientific doctrine that used to be quite popular in the EU a few decades ago. The well-groomed noble young man first bent and bowed to Father Palaskas before introducing himself:

"Welcome to the Holy Britannian Empire, I am the envoy sent by His Imperial Majesty to greet you, Bradow von Breisgau."

These words caused quite a ripple, not only among the surrounding Britannians, but also within the delegation.

"He is the contemporary Duke of Breisgau ..."

"I heard that he's a heavyweight under Emperor Charles ah ..."

Father Palaskas was not affected by these murmurs in the slightest, he had done his homework and knew that the Empire would send this aristocrat, who often dealt with the EU, to greet them. In the history of the Britannian Empire, the Breisgau family had always been known for their ability to maneuver and save the day in chaotic situations, and one of their finest gambits had been no better than when they had curbed the Southern Army, which was under the control of Duke Lorenzo il Soresi, with a variety of tactics during the Civil War, and bought time for the Northern Army to achieve victory. It has often been said by later historians that without the efforts of the Breisgau family, Alto Weinberg would never have had the chance to retrieve the rightful heir and force Duke of Soresi back to the negotiating table anyway.

"It's sad that the world only remembers Weinberg's rise to power and forgets Breisgau's sacrifice." Even Governor-general Herzog himself once lamented this.

Bradow shook hands amicably with Father Palaskas, who introduced him one by one to the members of the EU delegation present. When it was McNeil's turn, the priest seemed particularly enthusiastic, and his voice became a little shaky:

"This is Michael McNeil; he is the head of the Malcal family's business in South Africa." The priest said with a strong voice, "Don't mention the fact that he's from a commoner's background and not yet thirty years old, he's currently already the guest of the Governor-general of South Africa. He also manages a fund under him with a liquidity of about twenty million euros ..."

McNeil was ashamed of this shameless lie, but saw Bradow kindly extend his hand to him, so he had to shake hands with the duke. The Duke of Breisgau said rather emotionally, "It seems that your EU is really an old superpower. I ask myself, if I were a commoner as well, gaining the attention of high society from nothing is simply impossible."

"It's actually not that amazing." McNeil couldn't help himself, "It's just that I have to do some work for the Governor-"

"Yes, he knows the Governor-general's son, and saved the Governor-general's ... ah no, saved the Governor's son's life." Father Palaskas was so frightened that he was incoherent, fearing that McNeil would inadvertently tell the truth that could be taken as evidence, "O man, so that none know what their fate is like, nor can they predict it. How do you think a commoner can have the chance to know the governor's son? Don't even dare to think about it ..."

Bradow gave McNeil a parting glance and didn't say much.

The Britannian Empire side decided to arrange the delegation to stay near the EU embassy nearby, which was just what Father Palaskas wanted. He told McNeil that even if something unexpected happened, the Britannians would not dare to attack the EU embassy directly, and they could also take refuge in the embassy. As the convoy carrying the delegation passed through the embassy district, McNeil was surprised to find Chinese characters written on the doors of three embassies. He hastened to ask Father Palaskas about it, hoping for a reasonable explanation.

"What about these three embassies, one is belong to Japanese-you know, they can't get away from Chinese characters." Father Palaskas narrated, "The other two, well, one belongs to our old rival Chinese Federation, and the other is owned by the South Court Protectorate."

"... The South Court Protectorate, that's Oceania, isn't it?" McNeil recalled his pitifully small knowledge of international relations, "This Protectorate government is supposed to take orders from the imperial court, why would it have a separate embassy?"

"Hey, this is something I thought you already knew ... exactly, they went their separate ways before 71 years, only nominally maintaining the relationship between the emperor and the vassal. However, in order to avoid outsiders from talking about it, the name of this South Court's embassy is called the office, and the chief official is also one level lower than the ambassador of the imperial court, which is considered to give the sovereign a face."

Curious about what was going on here, McNeil decided to come to the embassy district to check things out shortly after he arrived at the hotel. However, no sooner had he approached the embassy, which belonged to the South Court Protectorate, than he was stopped by a bearded Asian man in a long shirt.

"What the hell are you doing here? This is not the street of the United Republic of Europia."

McNeil returned to his hotel angrily, it seems these Asians don't like outsiders visiting their private space.

TBC

Chapter Notes:

Next we'll see many old acquaintances in the Britannian Empire of A.T.B. 1997.

Australia, or Oceania, as always, plays an insignificant part in the Code Geass worldview. Due to the fact that British development of Oceania in reality was in fact prevented by the defeat of Britain and the Britannian Empire's deep involvement in the North American Feudal Settlement, the development and colonization of Oceania in the Code Geass worldview was most likely accomplished by the EU and the Chinese Federation. Additionally, Mao's desire to travel to Oceania to live in seclusion is a clear signal, as Asian faces are discriminated against in both the Britannian Empire and the EU.