"If the leader is filled with high ambition and if he pursues his aims with audacity and strength of will, he will reach them in spite of all obstacles."
- Carl von Clausewitz

Chapter XXXII: Fragments of the Mosaic

Once more he found himself there. Standing within the vast, unending darkness, upon the great pedestal of stained glass as that strange choir called out from all around. Yet again he could hear nothing – not even the sound of his own voice – beyond the aforementioned psalms, just as his eyes could not see anything beyond the intricate and spectacular imagery below his feet. An image that he noted was quite different from his last visit, as well as the one before.

As opposed to the previous two pedestals, this one held a distinctive twilit theme to it. Oranges and yellows of various shades weaved through the circle, bringing to mind the setting sun and fading light. The center, of course, held the Sigil, surrounded in turn by the profiles of certain figures. At the top was, as he expected somewhat, his own image, with his two most valued supporters flanking him on either side. Below them, once more on either side, was the image of a certain Eurasian general, who held a noticeably scarred visage, and that of a far more youthful man of equal Eurasian lineage. And then there were the last three: twins, one male and one female, directly opposite of the other, while in between them was an image that he especially recognized. That of another maiden with flowing long hair and a disarming angelic face, one that only shrouded her true nature. As he did well to know.

He frowned as he studied the image before him. He had since come to realize that these were not random projections, but rather signs of the future. Or more specifically, the game that was yet to be played, but would soon begin. Thus he did well to commit those images to mind, especially that of the maiden. An opponent that he did not wish to fight in the least – any more than he had the Owl – but knew that their confrontation was all but inevitable. A confrontation that had likely been in the making since the days of old. "So this is what I am to face yet."

Once more, the reply was written rather than spoken.

Indeed, this shalt be thy crusade…

The next step thee shalt taketh toward thy promised land…

He considered those words for a moment, suddenly feeling uneasy. The other side seemed to take notice of this.

Doth not hesitate young prodigal, f'r this is the path thee has't chosen...

A path thee still treadeth heavily upon…

"I know," he answered back somewhat testily. "I will not look away. I have long sworn never to look away," he resolved in near confession, before looking down again. "And yet…"

He sighed, feeling the weight upon him once more. "It remains so far away."

Such is the nature of what thee desires…

An ev'rlasting w'rld of peace and prosp'rity f'r all to embrace…

Such a realm cannot beest so easily hath reached, so easily hath brought f'rth…

He knew this as well, but he did well to hear it from another. "How much more will I have to do?" he asked. "How many more battles must I fight, how many more must die before…?"

As many as th're shalt beest…

As much blood and fireth wilt beest wrought…

F'r nothing less shall gain what thee seeketh…

Drawing back toward the inner circle, his eyes hovered over the image of the maiden. Whose heavenly visage belied the evil that lay within.

"There's already been so much blood and fire, and yet so much more to come," he murmured, once more remembering the events of eight years ago. "How much of either shall be wrought here? By my hand or hers?"

Once m're, as much as what wilt beest spill'd…

F'r yond which thee seeketh, 'r yond which thy lady yearns…

He grimaced at that thought. Knowing full well what his enemy yearned for. "Will I defeat her?" he asked once more.

Only thee may answ'r yond, young prodigal…

Only thee may standeth 'gainst h'r and yet triumph…

To this he nodded. "I see," he exclaimed, eyes remaining upon the angelic visage for a little longer. He then drew toward the twins, and then the scarred general and his own opposite. "And what of them?"

All but one may tryeth to hind'r thee…

And all but one may falleth sh'rt bef're thee…

Shouldst it cometh to passeth…

Frowning, he shifted between the middle pair. "May I yet avoid fighting them? At least for this?"

P'rhaps…

In fact, th're may yet beest hope…

F'r the proud lion draws its gazeth toward the east…

As the noble wolves moveth within the shadows…

He couldn't help but arch an eyebrow. It sounded familiar, yet it remained distant from his understanding. What did any of that mean?

...F'r anon howev'r, t is yet timeth…

As one oth'r desires thy toucheth…

Thy reaffirmation…

Opening his mouth to question further, he did well to see his present setting begin to fade around him. It really appeared his time was up.

Wend anon, young prodigal…

And taketh this respite bef're thy crusade…

All at once, the platform and the darkness were enveloped in a great light. As was his form within it all.

F'r thee shalt needeth t…


Urasoe Castle
Urasoe, Okinawa, Ryukyu Republic
August 29, 2025

The first thing Lelouch felt upon his eyes fluttering open was a semblance of a headache. Not a large one, thankfully, but a dull enough throbbing that made him struggle to fully awaken for a moment, as though the world around him were in a haze. It took quite some time for him to focus as a result, as well as gain the willpower to move his right hand and reach for his forehead, feeling the heat and sweat against his fingertips. Fortunately he did manage to focus in the end, as well as recognize that he was back in Urasoe. That he was very much alive, despite how he had given himself up for dead.

So I live to fight another day, Lelouch mused to himself, taking on a more solemn expression. He knew he had actually died then; that, for the first time, he had tasted death for himself through Orange's blade. Somehow however, he had been recovered and brought back to life; by who and for what purpose he did not know unfortunately, though that was only of minor importance now. No, all that mattered, in that single time and space, was that he was still alive and still able to fight, or at least would be able to soon enough. His crusade, as it were, had not reached its end after all. Nor his dream of the better world to come.

Which was consequently when he felt the second thing upon him. A very warm something that was wrapped around him in a deep embrace. Rolling back the covers, he found a certain arm enfolded around his chest, one that led to a very recognizable, if rather surprising, form. Kallen, bereft of uniform and all other manner of clothing, resting against his left shoulder, naked body firmly against his side. And, if Lelouch wasn't mistaken, the most relaxed – and dare he say content – expression he had ever seen upon her face.

Suddenly well aware of his present state, Lelouch could only swallow, wondering what exactly he should do about this, if anything at all. On one hand, he knew he had been out for some time – days, perhaps even months – and that he needed to return to the fight and contact Ohgi and the rest of the High Command at the nearest possible convenience. Besides the fact he needed to reaffirm them that he was still alive and breathing, really needed to get back into the war. A war that could have gone in any direction since his apparent "death".

On another, more personal side, something inside kept him in place. For the life of him he didn't know what it was, only that it made him feel at ease himself. Not at all wanting to disturb the one beside him, much less remove her embrace.

Ultimately it would not matter anyway. Suddenly stirring herself, Kallen began to stir, her sapphire eyes gradually opening. Where they were immediately met by Lelouch's amethyst pair – the red glow of Geass notwithstanding – causing her to fully awaken all too suddenly.

"Ah," Lelouch started to now the frozen in place Kallen. "Good morning," he offered, unable to find anything else to say.

Blinking twice, Kallen quickly forced herself away from Lelouch, scrambling to get out of the bed while covering herself with a blanket. She said nothing as she did so, only focusing on getting up, grabbing her uniform and getting as far as away as she could. All the while keeping her face – and her eyes – away from the one she had been beside.

Once more however, whatever was deep inside compelled Lelouch to move. Before either of them realized it, his left hand extended and grabbed onto Kallen's wrist, the soft grip somehow causing her to stop in motion. A long moment then passed before Lelouch suddenly, and at last, found the right words to say.

"I'm sorry Kallen," Lelouch whispered, immediately realizing. Though he did not know specifically what had happened after he had been run through by Jeremiah Gottwald, he could already see one outcome in particular. The same outcome that had driven Kallen to where she was now.

"I…" he stammered for another moment, ultimately finding himself unable to say anything else. "I'm sorry, for all of it."

Eyes glistening that much more from the apology, Kallen squeezed them shut yet again, feeling another round of tears beginning to run down her cheeks. No, it wasn't embarrassment of her present state that nearly drove her away; it was fear. Fear that Lelouch would not have said what he just did; that he would not acknowledge her anguish. But he hadn't; in fact, he had said exactly she wanted to hear. And even more important, truly felt apologetic for all of it. For driving her away when he had needed her most. And hurting her thereafter.

Thus, again acting suddenly, Kallen turned around and once more embraced Lelouch, wrapping her arms around him again while resting her head against his shoulder. All the while Lelouch, as taken off guard as he was, could only do the same with his own arms, holding her in place.

"Never again Lelouch," she could only whisper, trembling from the leftover distress. "Do you understand? Never go beyond my reach again."

Lelouch opened his mouth to respond, but stopped himself. More through the embrace than her words, he felt her unmasked desperation and fear. The fear of being left behind, alone and without hope. To be left in a world without him.

Thus Lelouch could only again respond in kind. "I won't," he said, closing his own eyes and nestling her head that much more on his shoulder. "I promise."

Again hearing exactly what she wanted to hear, Kallen at last smiled and eased herself once more. Several more minutes of silence then came and went, the pair remaining in their place, neither one wishing to break away. Neither one wanting to separate and return to the nightmares beyond, at least not just yet.

Which was subsequently when Lelouch felt another part himself react to the embrace; a reaction he hadn't thought about until he felt it press against Kallen through his boxers. Eyes snapping back open, he broke away as fast as he could, moving back and away from her as uncharacteristic shame flared through his voice.

"I'm sorry!" Lelouch again stammered, cursing his own body for reacting in such a manner, no matter how natural. "I didn't mean to…!"

Far from the shock and condemning embarrassment he had expected, Kallen's eyes seemed to shimmer as her breathing noticeably steadied, generating yet another emotion Lelouch easily perceived. A kind of yearning that mingled with the despair she had retained, generating a very distinct want and desire. To take what they had between them – being well aware that it would not remain – and gain some measure of relief, to make all that had happened three days ago a distant memory. To be alive.

Such was its power that, very much against his better judgment, Lelouch remained still as Kallen moved herself upon him again, one hand slipping around to draw him back to her while the other reached up to his cheek. From which her lips, slowly and silently, began to drift toward his…


Bering Palace
Saint George Island, Grand Duchy of Sunderland, Area 2 (Canada), Britannian Empire

"Suzaku?" Nunnally espoused, turning away from the braille copy of Alice in Wonderland in her hands toward the bed that was directly in front of her. For but a single moment, she thought she had heard the Knight of the Round begin to stir. And then she heard more, causing her to put the book down entirely and lean that much closer, right as Suzaku let out a long groan.

Eyes drifting open at long last, Suzaku Kururugi returned to the world at large. Not fully awakened but gradually gaining ground, the Knight of Seven attempted to lean up, but quickly found he did not yet have the strength for it. As a result he remained in the bed, his vision blurred and his head feeling like a battalion of Sutherlands had run over it. And yet, he somehow knew he was not quite dead. Somehow knew that he was still very much alive.

Smiling as she reached out and took his hand in her own, Nunnally replied. "Welcome back," she spoke softly. "You had me worried for some time."

Blinking once more for focus, Suzaku turned to face the princess. "How much time?" he asked back as he warmly held hand.

"Three days," Nunnally answered. "You've been asleep for three days."

This time, Suzaku managed to lean himself up, despite his head and the strain. It was almost difficult to believe; what could have been so terrible, even outside of battle, to have incapacitated him for three days? For the life of him he could not remember, much less recognize. Only the initial episode, as well as some very vague images, weighed upon his recollection. Otherwise he could not bridge the events between then and the present.

Could it have been him? a part of Suzaku wondered, somehow recalling the haunting image of his deceased father. A possibility, but a very unlikely one. For some reason or another, the specter of Genbu Kururugi never came upon him whenever he was in Nunnally's presence; the one apparent solace he held against its terrible subsistence. Likewise, he could not remember a time where it had attacked or incapacitated him directly. It had always tormented him, certainly, but it had never directly afflicted him beyond mere words. No, somehow deep down Suzaku knew this wasn't his father's – or more precisely his vestige's – doing.

Unfortunately that left only one other possibility. One that made Suzaku's heart run cold as he dared consider it, as well as certain memories he yet retained from Narita and Kamine. Geass…?

A sudden knock at the door, followed by Nunnally's responding "Enter", interrupted that line of thought. A moment later, the door opened to allow Bismarck and Dorothea to enter the room. Much to Suzaku's naked astonishment.

"Sir Bismarck," he acknowledged, taken off guard by the two Rounds' visit. "Dame Dorothea."

"Suzaku," Bismarck nodded in turn, as did Dorothea. "It is good to see you have at last recovered."

Nunnally smiled appreciatively. "Sir Bismarck and Dame Dorothea arrived here just after your episode," she explained. "They have been monitoring you with the rest of the medical staff."

"I see," Suzaku answered, barely holding back a frown. He knew that the pair weren't just there for his physical health, but he kept that to himself. "Are there any others?"

"Unfortunately no," Dorothea replied. "The Emperor saw fit to only notify us of your condition, and consequently send us to your side."

Suzaku mused over that for a moment. Whatever had happened to him, the Emperor was clearly concerned, at least enough to send his most trusted knights to observe Suzaku as he slept. Which made it even likelier for Geass to be involved, much to the chill that ran down his spine.

Ignoring his subordinate's momentary discomfort, Bismarck turned to Nunnally. "With your permission Your Highness," he respectfully addressed. "I wish to discuss certain matters with Suzaku in private."

"Are you sure that's necessary Sir Bismarck?" Nunnally asked, concern returning. "He has only just reawakened…"

"Don't worry, it will not be long," Bismarck reassured. "Nor will his recovery be hindered, I promise you."

Though Nunnally remained dubious, she knew she ultimately had no choice. As Knight of One, Bismarck Waldstein was not just the Emperor's bodyguard, but also his emissary. And it was not hard to guess that her father was somehow interested – if not involved – with what had occurred three days ago, and that Sir Bismarck would relate the information back to Pendragon once such questions were answered.

Despite that however, Nunnally also knew that Sir Bismarck only intended to speak with Suzaku, and otherwise had no intention to do him harm. Besides the fact her father was deeply invested in the Knight of Seven's service, the Warmaster of Britannia was just too noble for that kind of duplicity. Especially to a member of the Imperial Family like herself.

"Very well," Nunnally acquiesced. "I will be in the parlor when you are finished."

Bismarck smiled down at the princess. "You have my gratitude, Your Highness."

With that, Dorothea moved to take Nunnally's wheelchair and move her out of the bedroom. Leaving the two Rounds alone to discuss those certain matters.


Lutter & Wegner am Gendarmenmarkt
Berlin, State of Germany, Eurasian Union

Stifling a sneer as his eyes fell upon the other side of the table, Rommel couldn't help but wonder about how such a high end restaurant as Lutter & Wegner am Gendarmenmarkt could have so low standards for its customer base. Though the first diner, a rather plain looking individual with brown hair and equally brown eyes, was a good man, he very much could not say the same about the one he was conversing with. A notably ghoul faced man with short blonde hair, blue eyes of a darker shade and pale skin that altogether projected an undead, unholy image of evil. One complimented by the man's uniform, whose uniform was of the distinct dunkelgrau tone instead of standard hellgrau.

Rommel – and no one else he knew for that matter – had ever liked that particular man. As far back as his days at Wehrmacht University Munich, he had detested his thuggish nature and utter incompetence at everything but persecuting those who could not defend themselves. A bully by the very definition of the word, entirely unfit to wear that dark grey uniform he liked to parade around in, much less the three studded golden weaved epaulettes on its shoulders. Thus it only made sense that he would be selected to head the Nationalists' private wing of the Wehrmacht, which was as equally unsuited for actual fighting as it was inclined to harming innocents. Life was funny that way.

Unfortunately he was on a very tight schedule, so Rommel could only force back the bile and move over to the table. "I see your taste in camaraderie has diminished since we last spoke Heinrich," he observed as the two men turned to face him, the first one quite impassively while the latter held naked aggravation.

"Hello Joachim," General Heinrich Guderian, Chief of the Central Command, greeted Rommel nonchalantly. Somehow he should have known his fellow General would crash this particular meeting. "I trust you know each other?"

"Unfortunately," Rommel answered before turning to the second man. "And how are you doing Konrad?" he spoke with utmost sardonicism.

"Well enough, thank you," General Konrad Heydrich, commander of the Stormtrooper Korps, acknowledged Rommel while not at all bothering to hide his own disdain. "I see you still like to waste time harassing me."

Rommel, naturally, couldn't resist. "Konrad, Konrad, when will you learn?" he shook his head in mock disappointment, which he knew would irritate Heydrich that much more. "Harassing you has never been a waste of time to me. Quite the contrary, I see it as a constructive use of my time, as well as an additional if overlooked service to Eurasia. One as vital to the war effort as the Loewe's development."

Heydrich almost grated his teeth at that last part, much to Rommel's smirking delight. During the initial development of the EU's premiere seventh generation knightmare frame, two contenders had been put forward: Krauss-Clement's Loewe (or Koenigsloewe as the prototype was now known) and Herschel & Son's Leopard. It had been a very heated contest, which capped off in the final trial fight between the two knightmares, in which Rommel and Heydrich, as the main sponsors for either project, had personally piloted either KMF against the other. The victor should have been obvious enough on either front; after all, the Loewe was very much in production as an eighth generation unit, though at an admittedly slow pace.

"It's also a service to you Konrad," Rommel gleefully pressed on. "In fact, you should be thanking me, for I'm giving you the only real happiness you have ever felt. Memories you will undoubtedly recall and smile toward when they finally put you up against the wall."

Now the Desert Lion was almost whimsical. "Yes, at the end of this sick, degenerate life of yours, you will not help but look back on moments such as this and laugh. Feeling that last vestige of warmth and joy before the command to 'Feuer!' is given and you're promptly sent off to Hell."

One could almost feel the hatred simmer off of Heydrich like steam, such that he – remaining well aware that he was in a public setting – visibly held himself back from attacking the opposite General. All the while Guderian merely sat back, stifling a grin as he quietly took a sip of his beer.

"Having said all that, I'm actually not here for you Konrad," Rommel explained, nodding again to Guderian. "I have certain matters to discuss with Heinrich here. Pure military matters that need not concern the sturmtruppen or yourself."

"I will be the judge of that Rommel," Heydrich snapped, adjusting in his chair to show that he was not about to leave. "How do I know you're not plotting to follow Smilas' example?"

"You don't. And even if I were, it would not be your concern anyway," Rommel flashed his ever infuriating smile. "Especially when you have your own matters to attend to."

He then reached into his pocket and withdrew a holographic data clip, which he then handed to Heydrich. "You've certainly been busy as of late Konrad. I had no idea your untermensch were even in Norway," Rommel continued. "Neither did General Hoth for that matter."

As he read the generated written message, Heydrich's lips drew back into a sneer. Apparently General Kurt Hoth wanted to "discuss" certain actions the Stormtrooper Korps had taken within his operations area. And if the wording in the summons was anything to go by, Hoth was very much displeased.

Ordinarily Heydrich would have snubbed Hoth, but he knew he couldn't do that here. Not when the chief of the Central Command – which his korps de jure answered to and absolutely not the President and the Nationalist Party – was sitting directly in front of him and could easily force the issue. "Since when are you Hoth's errand boy Rommel?"

The "regular" Army General merely shrugged. "He heard I was coming here, so Kurt asked me to do him a favor," he explained. "And I doubt you can afford this place anyway. Or were you going to have Heinrich pick up the tab?"

He then reached out and forced Heydrich to stand. "Regardless we both have much to do now, so off you go Konrad," he said as he directed the goon of a general toward the nearest exit. "And do remind General Hoth how much he owes me for this."

Then giving Heydrich a hard, final shove – as well as ignoring the resultant glare – Rommel promptly took the former's chair. Where Guderian looked upon him with his own sardonic expression.

"I assume this will not be a social visit," Guderian observed.

"You assume correctly Heinrich," Rommel answered, then taking a look at what Heydrich had been eating wrinkling his nose. Fortunately it wasn't long before a waiter came by and withdrew that particular dish, then inquiring if Rommel wanted anything himself. After ordering wiener schnitzel with a mug of the house beer, he continued. "I heard a certain operation has been handed over to an equally certain wolf pack."

Somehow Guderian managed not to close his eyes and shake his head. How the hell does he know these things? he wondered once again. "Possibly."

Rommel took that admittance for what it was, again reaching into his pocket. "In that case, I have something that needs to be passed to Colonel Malkal," he explained, producing a more conventional dataclip. "Preferably at the earliest opportunity."

"May I inquire as to what and why?" Guderian pointedly asked.

"You may," Rommel answered back, his next smile being a sly one. "Though unless you want to bring Central Command directly into this affair, I think it best you remain oblivious."

That was more than enough information for Guderian to figure out Rommel's intentions. Such that he visibly sighed. "Why are you asking me for this anyway? If I remember correctly, Colonel Malkal was your protégé not too long ago."

"Yes, and while I would very much rather give this to Leila personally, I think it best be handed down the chain," Rommel explained. "That way it's 'official' enough to be overlooked by certain prying eyes."

Exhaling another sigh, Guderian nonetheless took the clip. "Remind me exactly how the hell we have remained friends for so long."

Rommel smiled yet again. "Simple. Your life would be immensely boring if I weren't in it," he posited. "And mine would be quite difficult if I didn't have you to do little favors like this one."

"I hardly call this a 'little' favor Joachim," Guderian shot back. "Especially if it entails what I think it does."

"Well, then don't think Heinrich," Rommel countered. "I thought that was a requirement of your position anyway."

Guderian attempted to retort that, only for their waiter to then return with Rommel's meal. Which he quickly began to eat, already famished.

"Besides, there's already been numerous conspiracies since this all started. What's one more among many?" Rommel continued after his first mouthful. "Especially if this one actually serves our purposes for once?"


State of Ural, Eurasian Union

Damn it! Major Andrei Zhukov managed to think as he threw his Baer back behind the nearest tree, using it as a shield against the enemy fire. He waited there for just a few moments before forcing his knightmare frame back into the fold, kicking up the "ground effect" thrusters his unit used in place of landspinners. He sped to the left, returning the Britannian fire with his own assault rifle, with at least one Sutherland going up in smoke as a result. But of course that was just one among many, the responding hail of bullets and rockets emphasizing that fact, as well as his responding derision.

Waiting a few more moments to ensure the enemy was well within the trap, Andrei then gave the awaited command. "Now!" he shouted while firing off another burst.

Upon that signal, two more Baers abandoned their respective covers. Propelled by their own hoverjets, the mammoth knightmare frames raced through the forest while firing off their bazookas in tandem, blasting rocket after rocket upon the enemy formations as they passed. Numerous Sutherlands and at least two Gloucesters were brought down as a result, causing the Britannians to hinder and the Eurasians to press the attack. For a time, it even seemed like the Imperials were about to falter.

Unfortunately the opposition was all too quick to reform their lines and concentrate their fire, specifically under the cover of their own bazooka equipped units. This effectively forced the Eurasians back to the standstill, abandoning their advance for further cover and evasion. Even so, the two Baers refused to give up that easily, and so weaved through the trees continuing their attack at the best of their abilities. Only when one of them fell did the other at last reverse back, covered by a pair of Ritter IIs through the process.

Sneering at that outcome, Andrei fired off another bullet spray as another Sutherland attempted to close in on him, its lance poised to strike. The Sutherland crumpled in its dash, to which Andrei reversed before the Yggdrasil drive overloaded and detonated. Through that explosion, another of its bazooka equipped brethren turned and fired at him, forcing the Major to zigzag around the trees to avoid the shells. He then returned fire with his rifle mounted grenade launcher, but by then the Sutherland abandoned its attack and retreated behind its own cover. Andrei would have pressed the advantage, but the resultant crossfire kept him back.

"Onslaught One to Unsullied One," one of the other unit commanders called out to him. "Any Ceridwrens on your end?"

"Negative Onslaught One, there's no sign of them," Andrei responded as he continued to pour fire eastward while weaving through the trees simultaneously. Two more Ritter IIs soon joined him, adding their own bullets into the mix, as did a Ritter III a few moments later. More explosions erupted, but their enemies continued to charge, returning fire in earnest. "I guess they didn't want to waste time with us."

Onslaught One responded with a sardonic laugh, right before a nearby explosion forced him to turn back to the battle. Andrei didn't pay much attention to how he faired; he had his own immediate problems, the Baer's mono-eye swiveling right to track an incoming Gloucester, its MVS drawn to strike. Reversing from the initial slash, Andrei stowed his rifle and drew his own saber, raising it just in time to parry the second. He then attempted to fire his left harken at point blank, but the Gloucester maneuvered back while counterfiring its own slash harken. To this, Andrei dodged so that the rocket anchor would end up embedded in a tree, only to charge again as the former was retracted, both sets of blades clashing thereafter.

As expected of a Gloucester pilot, Andrei's opponent was good, more than capable of keeping up with him. Not even supporting fire from another nearby Ritter II slowed the Britannian machine down, though it did take a moment to evade the fire while doing well to keep track of the Baer. It slashed at him, attempting to cut a swathe off his knightmare's "girth", but Andrei managed reverse at the right moment, and then circle around to attack the Gloucester's waistline. Another slash harkin launch dissuaded him from the attack, to which he used knightmare's superior mobility to dodge the attack almost neatly, as well as the following beheading swipe. To this, Andrei unleashed a three slash combo attack of his own, but the Gloucester dodged the initial slash itself and then parried the other two. More blade clashes soon followed, much to Andrei's detriment.

I don't have time for this! he managed to think as put his "ground effect" thrusters into full burn, reversing as the Gloucester slashed again and then circling around, putting everything into his forward momentum. The Britannian attempted to dodge left, but he was faster, at last running his blade through the enemy knightmare's right and moving all the way back through the cockpit. The pilotless frame fell thereafter, allowing Andrei to proceed on through the battle.

A battle that had no end – intended or otherwise – in sight, once more to his detriment. To say nothing of those he was fighting beside, who could only hold the line as additional Britannians made their way into the forest.


Eurasian 10th Army Headquarters
Yekaterinburg, State of Ural, Eurasian Union

It was with deceiving calm that General Sergei Zhukov watched the tactical screen, observing as Marrybell's forces once more charged westward against the waiting Eurasian defenders. Yet again the Britannians were not pulling their punches, launching assaults on no less than three sectors this time: Salekhard, Khanty-Mansiysk, the latter in which his son was leading his 358th Panzer Squadron, and Tomsk. Three more conquests that would bring Bloody Marry closer to Moscow, and from there Western Eurasia itself. Three more states that Zhukov and his contemporaries were forced to shed blood and iron to retain against the angry Britannian night.

For the moment the defenders, again including Andrei, were holding the line and returning the Britannian fire in earnest. The fighting would continue for some time yet, he knew, given the strength of the defenders against the forward might of the attackers. Contrarily, he did not know who would win what particular battle, or whether his forces would hold out against the tide initially. Only the eventuality of Eurasian withdrawal was a certainty to the elder Zhukov; as much it chafed against him to even consider retreat, Eurasia would only be wasting valuable lives and equipment of they stood too firm against their enemy. Especially at this time.

No, as he had spent the better part convincing Central Command, it was far better to let the Britannians progress at great expense through the Eastern Front then to try and wholly stonewall them. Such a scenario would leave Marrybell's forces thoroughly decimated, but otherwise intact and standing whereas the defenders would end up fractured and broken, all but leaving Moscow – and thereafter Berlin – open for a conqueror's march. Blood for time he believed it had been referred to, but it remained the best option. Especially when one considered what the additional time was buying.

With slow, grinding determination, Marrybell was drawing closer and closer to the Urals, the natural barrier that separated Eurasia's (formerly Russia's) east from its west. Though the world primarily knew the mountain range for its vast mineral deposits, such that it had been called the Treasure Trove of the East, the Urals, like virtually any other mountain on this earth, were also an ideal fortress. With certain irony, Zhukov reflected how his famous – or infamous – grandfather had directed Red Army reserves and Soviet industrial capacity to retreat into Siberia when the Great Patriotic War had turned upon the aggressors, intending to continue the fight even after the western territories fell. Erwin Rommel's conquest of Moscow and Stalin's corresponding assassination by Lavrentiy Beria ended the war despite, but that didn't prevent Sergei from appreciating his grandfather's genius and insight.

The Urals were a wall. A great, towering wall of stone and metal, virtually impervious to any opposing army. And though Zhukov knew Marrybell had anticipated that wall in her path, it was still a barrier that she would be forced to contend with if she ever wanted to march into the west. There was no evading it for the Britannians; short of sending her minions through Chinese Kazakhstan, which had been greatly reinforced since the Federation's reformation, or somehow putting her entire army onto airships – which would only leave them susceptible to AA and aerial intercept – Marrybell had no choice but to force her way through. Despite the additional fortifications, among other nasty surprises, that Eurasia had placed throughout those mountains since first gaining the Far East. And that was precisely what Operation Tiegel was centered upon.

Having mused over that however, Zhukov also knew, in spite of everything, that it was not yet time for Tiegel. Once again he and the rest of Eurasia needed time. Time that could only be attained through blood, which was where those fighting on the frontlines came in. Theirs was not to stem the Britannian tide, but to hinder it and weaken it. Every Sutherland destroyed would be one less opponent they would face when Marrybell made her way to the boundary, specifically the only passage through the mountain chain that her forces could viably proceed through. Only then and there would Tiegel take full effect – in another form of historical irony that only Zhukov understood at this time – and would result in the Britannians sundering. Such that, even if they did emerge victorious in the coming fight, it would be their pyrrhic undoing, for they would be entirely incapable of further progression. Formal defeat would only follow from thereon.

Thus, Zhukov again reminded himself to be patient for that much longer. His son – one of the few below general rank who was aware of the real plan – and those he fought beside would not fail him. Whether they were native Easterners (or Russians depending upon the observer) or scions of the West, they would fight for as long as possible, putting down multitudes of Britannians along the way. Not even those thrice damned Ceridwren Knights would be able to change that outcome, no matter how many Eurasians they themselves slew.

So he remained there, his eyes transfixed upon the main monitor as operators continued to direct the three front battle at hand. Little by little it would fall into place. After which, the crucible would be brought forth, and the Britannians would curse their ineptitude in falling into it.


Weisswolf Castle
State of Germany, Eurasian Union

"Overall, to quote the Britannians, I'd say this is a real fine doozy," Lieutenant Colonel Klaus Warwick quipped as he observed the mission parameters on his datapad. An ever laid back, uncaring man, Klaus now held a rather uncharacteristically concerned expression, though not many would have been able to see it. "I wonder what kind of bug crawled up Kessler's ass to send us after this one…"

"Vulgar language aside Klaus, I can understand how you feel," Leila replied as she looked over her own set of data on her desk monitor, frowning toward the digitized image of Zero. "Unfortunately orders are orders, and these come straight from the President. We cannot refuse them."

"I know," Klaus exclaimed as he tossed the datapad back on the desk, trying to mask his concern with his usual manner. He failed, but Leila pretended not to notice, at least initially. "Zero… The man who set the whole of Britannia's ass on fire as they were taking a squat…"

"Language," Leila reminded impatiently.

Klaus shook his head, finally allowing his irritation through. "Forgive me Frau Oberst, but wasn't Werwolf meant for better than this?" he griped. "We should be fighting the Brits, not the guy who pulled their skirts down."

He could not help but groan in clear derision. "Hell, why aren't the sturmtruppen handling this? Aren't they the Nationalists' favorite errand bo…?"

"Werwolf answers to the President of the Eurasian Union, Lieutenant Colonel Warwick," Leila stated as though a direct reminder, the forcefulness of her tone actually taking her executive officer off guard. "All other personal concerns and opinions are secondary to this."

Not only was Klaus surprised, but the whimpering at Leila's right indicated that she had also disturbed another. While keeping her eyes on her subordinate, Leila reached down and gently ran her hands along one of the two collared wolves that had been lying beside her desk, assuaging his worry with the physical contact. She should have expected that much; Geri never liked it when she spoke like that. Neither did Freki for that matter, though she was better at dismissing it than her mate.

"We will carry out our mission as we always have," Leila continued while still rubbing Geri's head, the grey wolf calming to her touch. "Do I make myself clear, Oberstleutnant?"

"Ja, Frau Oberst," Klaus answered back, again projecting his usual laziness to disguise his disdain, which his superior easily saw through. "I'm just saying, with all that's going on, you would think that we would… you know, be fighting Eurasia's enemies."

Leila couldn't fault him for that, she admitted to herself. They should have been going after their real enemies, not the imagined ones that the Nationalists proclaimed. Kampfgruppe Werwolf had been specifically meant for that purpose from the beginning, and had long carried it out with utmost efficiency. If anyone should have been angered about their being sent to hunt down the Demon King simply to allow Kessler and the rest to sleep at night, it was her.

Alas however, she had not exaggerated about her following claim. Werwolf answered to Eurasia and its people, no matter who, or what in her opinion, they voted into office. And though a part of her dubiously wondered if going after the "war criminal" Zero really was the will of Eurasia and its people, Parliament had still voted on it, and the President had established it as policy in front of her. She and her kampfgruppe therefore had no choice but to enact that policy, regardless of what others – up to and including her own beloved mentor – would have thought.

"Having said that, our mission will be carried out by your will Frau Oberst," Klaus continued, purposely emphasizing those last five words. By his commander's will, and not the President and his lackeys'. "Though there may be some second thoughts as to the…impact it will have on Eurasia's immediate future. To say nothing of who else we will be fighting against."

Leila understood the underlying message. "If we are to fight Japanese, Klaus, then we are to fight Japanese," she replied, while biting back her own feelings on that matter.

"I understand that perfectly ma'am," Klaus replied, considering his next words. "What I'm afraid of is that such sentiments will not be shared by the whole kampfgruppe. No matter how you deliver the message to them."

That was something else Leila had anticipated, though she had done well not dwell on it so much. A part of her wondered if Kessler had purposely selected Werwolf due to that underlying fact: the bulk of its personnel being Japanese exiles that had, by one means or another, ended up in Eurasia. Somehow she could see the Nationalists and their supporters being quite amused at the prospect; sending Japanese to fight other Japanese to get to their target. Her gut tightened at the mere idea, but she managed to force it away.

"They will fight," Leila assured. "Because Eurasia is their homeland now and they are Eurasian soldiers sworn to defend it."

Again biting back her own feelings on the subject, she finished with. "All other inclinations are secondary to victory." Even if that victory comes at a cost we cannot afford.

Forcing back his own urge to sigh at that declaration, Klaus had no other choice but wring his hands of the whole matter. "As you say, Frau Oberst," he answered, his devil may care front returning in full force. "At the very least it will be an exciting hunt with the most challenging of prey."

He seemed to consider that. "Outside the Britannians nabbing him in '17, I don't think anyone else has ever bested the Demon King, especially in his own playing field."

Leila could only nod in response. "Let's hope that we are the first then, Herr Oberstleutnant."


St. Nicholas' Church
Berlin, State of Germany, Eurasian Union

Biting back his sense of irony and adopting a more reverent expression, Rommel at last entered into his meeting place. Of all the places his contact would have chosen, he never expected it to be the oldest church in Berlin. Not so much because it was also one of the most popular venues in the city, but also because of his contact's own faith. But then, if the lord could work in mysterious ways, Rommel supposed the other side, to say nothing of the agency he represented, could do just the same. Not that he hadn't done so in the past, the general mused.

In any case, he was there now, and Rommel did well to respect the sanctity of the church's interior; after all, he himself was Lutheran by faith. Silently he moved between the pews, acting as just another parishioner seeking private time with the Lord. In a way he wished that were his real reason for being there, but unfortunately he had a schedule to meet, and it was not one he dared skip out on. He was sure the Lord would understand, like he had always done.

Eventually he found who he was looking for and took his seat in one of the pews directly beside him. His contact wasn't hard to find if one looked hard enough. There weren't many people in that part of Eurasia with that exact skin tone. "I would have thought a synagogue would be more to your preference," Rommel whispered to the man while keeping his eyes forward on the altar.

The darker skinned man shrugged. "Churches are far more plentiful and easier to access in this part of the world," he replied in monotone, yet retaining an accent that belied his true origins. "Besides, I prefer to keep my own places of worship out of my work. Surely you understand."

Rommel couldn't help but smile to the much younger man. "I do, strangely enough," he answered back. "So what do I owe the pleasure? I trust you and your affiliates have been keeping up?"

"We have," Abwehr Captain Ari Zamar answered back. "And we are quite…intrigued by the course of action you discussed with General Guderian. Enough that we refrained from notifying certain authorities of your potential treason."

Again Rommel grinned. "I take that as a compliment," he replied, looking up toward the mounted cross above the altar. "Does that mean your affiliates support my actions?"

The Abwehr man's own responding smile was wry. "It means we will remain watchful for the time being. At least until the proper decision is made."

Rommel nodded, taking that for what it's worth. "I see," he answered. "And what of your position on more official actions."

This time Ari frowned. "While I cannot speak for all of my affiliates, I myself find such actions rather disturbing," he confessed, taking a risk in doing so. But then, he knew his present contact was more than trustworthy. "In spite of present circumstances, the current administration appears strangely assured Eurasia will ultimately prevail against Britannia. Yet at the same time, they fear the Black Knights enough that they dare not fight them simultaneously."

"Yes," Rommel concurred. "Any hypothesizes as to why?"

Ari shrugged. "Der tayvl iz nit azoy shvarts vi men molt im," he quoted rather outlandishly, namely when one considered their present setting. "I do not believe their assurance against Britannia is not without material basis."

Rommel nodded, taking note of the choice of words. "Volgograd," he murmured, recalling all that he heard around that particular city. Namely who had set up shop there, and since closed it off to the rest of the world.

"My affiliates have assessed much the same," Ari concurred. "Unfortunately we have yet to obtain any detailed information therein."

Again the General nodded in understanding, once more picking on the Abwehr agent's choice of words. It wasn't hard to guess what was in that city: some sort of wunderwaffe that Kessler and his miscreants were betting on turning the war for them. Probably one of terrible, destructive power too, such that they dare not reveal it until what they saw was the proper time, after which all forms of resistance would be nullified.

Which in itself also brought forward another reason why they were after Zero. If Lelouch suspected – which Rommel had a feeling he did – such a weapon's existence, he and the Black Knights would not allow it to remain. "Are your affiliates working toward that angle?"

"Presently," Ari answered, confirming to Rommel that the Abwehr did have agents within Volgograd. "But again, findings are quite scarce…"

"I understand," Rommel replied, thinking. There were several avenues to pursue here, but none that he could enact directly. Much less anything that could be done before Leila got what he sent her, preferably before Heydrich and his thugs took notice. And it wasn't like there was enough going on elsewhere in Eurasia.

"I suppose being watchful is all we can do here as well," he finally decided after taking a short breath. "At least until a certain devil, who happens to be quite black, makes his appearance in the East."

Ari could not help but concur. "That seems to be what we're all counting on now, Herr General."


Bering Palace
Saint George Island, Grand Duchy of Sunderland, Area 2 (Canada), Britannian Empire

"And you remember nothing beyond that point?" Bismarck inquired further.

"I'm afraid not Sir Bismarck," Suzaku answered, visibly attempting to dig deeper into his memories for additional answers. Unfortunately he still found nothing. "The most that comes to mind after I lost consciousness was some kind of unending darkness. That's the best I can describe it. I can't recall anything else but that."

"I see," the Knight of One answered. "I suppose that's all that can be expected then Suzaku."

The Knight of Seven nodded to his superior. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I wish…"

"Don't," Bismarck stated, laying a hand on Suzaku's shoulder, assuaging him to be further at ease. "Whatever has happened has now passed. And though I am no medical expert, I believe it has not affected you, beyond some level of fatigue. His Majesty will understand that."

He then gave his subordinate a soft shoulder squeeze before withdrawing his hand. "For now, I believe it's best that you rest that much longer," he continued. "Eurasia will be there when you are ready to fight again."

Again Suzaku nodded, this time in appreciation. "Thank you my lord," he spoke with clear gratitude. Since Bismarck mentioned Eurasia however, Suzaku couldn't help but ask. "And how is the fighting there? Has anything happened while I was out?"

"Nothing in particular," Bismarck answered. "Western Eurasia remains much the same, while Marrybell continued to advance in the East, though at great cost."

Suzaku took that in, momentarily imagining the resultant carnage. He managed to force it away however. "And Africa?"

This time Bismarck shook his head. "Prince Raymond continues to lead there, but unfortunately he is not as genius as Lelouch," he admitted. "Severe losses have been taken as a result."

That caused Suzaku visible melancholy. "I see," he replied, feeling as though he had been stung. Somehow he should have expected that result. Only Lelouch had been able to match the Desert Lion on that front, and it had taken him five years to so much as enter marching distance of El Alamein. Now, with the Black Prince obviously no longer present, it would only make sense for Rommel and those under him to seize the opportunity and drive Imperial forces back across the continent. Rather saddening, especially when Suzaku had been so concentrated on Western Eurasia that he had forgone any news of his original battleground.

Bismarck again noticed this, and so offered the younger Round his condolences. "Such are the fortunes of war Suzaku," he said. "Until final victory is claimed, anything may yet happen."

"I understand my lord," Suzaku replied. "It's disheartening, but always a possibility as you said."

The Knight of Seven frowned as he recalled those days. The world, for all of its evils, somehow seemed brighter then. When he, Gino and Anya followed Lelouch on that righteous crusade. "I only wish we had been able to complete our mission there, before…" he found himself unable to finish, though Bismarck seemed to understand.

"Indeed," Bismarck forwardly concurred, though in reality he knew that had never been part of His Majesty's plan. Any more than Lelouch remaining the Black Prince had been, much to the Knight of One's own remorse on that.

In any case however, Bismarck could see that there was nothing abnormal – or more precisely nothing related to a certain power – here. In spite of being within the epicenter of the previous event, Suzaku Kururugi appeared to have no recollection of all that had occurred, which suited Bismarck, and therefore the Emperor, just fine. The Knight of Seven already had enough to deal with on his own side of things, such that Bismarck would rather he not be directly involved elsewhere.

"Well then, I suppose that is everything His Majesty requires," Bismarck said, turning toward the door. "Dorothea and I will be taking our leave now."

"Back to Pendragon my lord?" Suzaku asked.

"And to the side of His Majesty, yes," Bismarck answered, giving a final smile. "You really caused me much trouble Suzaku. Can you imagine what our enemies would do, knowing that the Knight of One is not present in the capital?"

Suzaku actually appeared perturbed at the thought. "My apologies!" he nearly stammered. "I didn't mean to…"

"I'm joking," Bismarck reassured, waving him off. "I would not be here now if His Majesty were so vulnerable. In fact, it was by both his command and my own will that I am here now."

Despite that attempted assurance, Suzaku only became that much more perturbed, though he did better not showing it there. There was only one, well, two reasons His Majesty would be concerned about his wellbeing. The first, obviously, was that he was a vital piece to his game; the White Knight of Britannia, one of his most effective warriors against the black army. The second was far more nefarious. Whatever had occurred before had indeed been Geass related. Enough that the Emperor would send his most trusted knight to learn what Suzaku had gleamed from said occurrence, and act accordingly.

That being said, Suzaku had not lied, as he really did remember nothing beforehand. Just an endless surge of pain, as though his very soul were being torn apart. And then nothing but darkness, which had lasted for three days apparently. From which he finally awoke to Nunnally at his side again.

"I am honored," Suzaku answered, forcing back such knowledge. "To both you, Sir Bismarck, and His Majesty for your concern."

Nodding at his answer, Bismarck could easily tell that Suzaku had realized the truth then and there, but chose not to pursue it. He had neither reason nor inclination to do so, as it would not have changed anything. And again, Suzaku already had enough problems of his own.

"I will be in touch," he stated, deciding to end it on a lighter note. "Please continue to care for Her Highness until then."

That actually earned a laugh from Suzaku, which was precisely what Bismarck had wanted. "She's actually been taking care of me," he admitted. "But rest assured I will remain by her side until then, my lord."

Bismarck felt certain appreciation toward this. If there was one positive development out of this whole mess, it was that Suzaku remained under the best of care. And fitting care, Bismarck mused. Like Lelouch, Nunnally had inherited her mother's strength alongside her father's will, though both were angled in a far different direction than her brother. Such that she seemed to be the only one capable of dispelling Suzaku's madness, if only for a little while anyway.

As such, he gave one final approving smile to his ward. "Until then, Suzaku," he repeated, before making his exit.


Weisswolf Castle
State of Germany, Eurasian Union

Leila couldn't remember the last time she had gotten so strained, especially over something so simple. A little more drawn out than usual perhaps, but still a simple enough briefing that had highlighted Werwolf's next mission, and all that entailed. For what it was worth, the mutiny that some had expected had never come to pass. Whatever their opinions of Zero and the Black Knights really were, her pilots had remained focused throughout the briefing, asking questions that only pertained to their assignment and little else. Even First Lieutenant Kosaka, the most "passionate" out of all of them, had not voiced any opposition to their orders, though she was noticeably far more passive than usual. Leila found that rather disturbing in itself, but so long as the Lieutenant continued to follow her commands, especially in the field, the Colonel paid it as little mind as she did with the rest.

Presently she was walking down the halls of Weisswolf, Geri and Freki at her flanks as usual. Beyond the windows to her left, Teutoburg Forest stretched out as far as the eye could see, a magnificent field of green under the increasingly twilit sky. As with everyone else in Eurasia, Leila was well aware of Teutoburg's history and symbolism: the battleground in which an alliance Germanic tribes ambushed and destroyed Legios XVII, XVIII and XIX, effectively spelling the beginning of the end of the Roman Empire. In fact, on one of her more ironic whims, she had selected that forest for Weisswolf for precisely that symbolism. General Rommel had remarked she had a sick sense of humor over it; Leila preferred to think she had a simple appreciation of history and how, with the correct steps, it could be changed.

Now however, as she looked over the vast greenery, she couldn't help but wonder if what that forest represented was about to repeat itself, this time upon the whole of Eurasia instead of a singular part of it. Despite all the assurance she had projected to Klaus, and then the rest of her kampfgruppe, Leila knew that this "demon hunt" was a poor move. That by all rights they should have done what her mentor had proposed in that Council session and sought alliance with Zero and his Black Knights, not declare war on them simultaneously with Britannia. The war with the latter was already bad enough, but now they were about to fight the same force that liberated a third of the world in a single offensive, to say nothing of that third in itself. And while the Federation was still recovering from its own seven year campaign, Leila knew that Eurasia could not afford to fight them either.

Indeed she knew her history well. Though it had been a tribal alliance that dealt Varus' legions their deathblow, that alliance had been forged and led by Arminus, who had spent the better part of his life as a Roman citizen and soldier, secretly learning the ways of his enemies while preparing for his own revolution. And for all the air of mystery he put on, Leila could see much of Arminus within Zero, such that she actually suspected he himself was Britannian, perhaps even a former member of the Imperial Army; one who had spent the better part of his life learning the ways of his enemies while preparing his revolution. Even without the Black Knights and the Chinese to back him, she knew Eurasia could not afford to have him as an enemy, but had every reason to have him as an ally. So why? Why were her wolves being sent out to hunt him down? Especially when they had more in common with him and his army than they did with hers?

She knew the answer to that, damn her. Just as she knew that, in spite of it all, she was powerless to change it for the better.

"You seem to be quite troubled, Frau Oberst," a familiar voice spoke from the side, causing Geri and Freki's heads to turn along with hers. Right as a welcome presence – a very welcome presence – made his appearance.

Daring to sigh, Leila looked over as Major Akito Hyuga came to meet her. "Just feeling the strains of command Major Hyuga," she answered, wishing she could use his given name instead. Unfortunately the remained in a very public setting, and so they both adhered to protocol. "This new mission is giving me something of a headache."

"I can imagine," Akito answered as the pair began to walk, Freki moving aside to allow the Major to stand next to her master. "For what it's worth, I'm not looking forward to this mission either, but not for the reasons you would think."

"And what reasons would that be Herr Major?" Leila inquired.

Akito knew that was rhetorical, but he answered anyway. "If you think my pilots and I will hesitate because we will be fighting other Japanese, you are sadly mistaken," he assured. "The enemy is the enemy, even if it came from the same homeland as us."

Leila nodded. "That's very reassuring," she replied. "And what are the actual reasons for your disposition."

"The same as yours," Akito again answered. "With respect to President Kessler and the Council, this is a very bad decision."

Through their walk, they somehow ended up at Weisswolf's internal hangar, where the giants stood dormant. Entering the code to the doorway, Akito allowed his superior and the wolves to enter in first, then following.

"Like it or not, Zero is a key player in this war. One that we would be fools not to have fighting for us," the Major continued. "Much less to make an enemy of."

Visibly relaxing within the private setting, Leila took a moment to study the impassive face of the closest knightmare. A far cry from the Ritter, it was much meaner looking, while its streamlined armored structure was built more for speed over durability. Even inactive, the dimmed mono-eye within its glaring faceplate projected pure malice.

"It's not our place to dictate who are allies and enemies are Akito," she spoke far more casually now that they were alone. "Only to accomplish whatever mission is given to us. No matter what effect it will have on the greater whole."

"Yes, I know Leila," Akito answered back, coming up to stand closer to her, turning her to face him while wrapping his arms around to assuage. The wolves noticeably kept their distance as the two humans became more intimate. "But at the same time, we both know that this is a poor move. And no matter how much we may deny it to our subordinates, it will remain with us."

Relaxing further in his arms, Leila could only concur with his assessment. "So what do you want do about it?" she shot back, somehow managing to reply in spite of the tender moment between them. "From my perspective, our options are quite limited."

Akito actually chuckled at that, something he never would have done in front of anyone else. "Limited is still better than narrowed down to the initial."

"Perhaps," Leila admitted, then tilting her head in piqued interest. "What option would Hannibal's Ghost choose?"

Again Akito chuckled. "We both know what the actual Hannibal would have done," he shot back. "As for myself however, I have long believed that the present administration is not serving best interests of Eurasia, and that they should be removed as soon as possible."

He shrugged before Leila could retort. "But I'm just a soldier. My place is to carry out whatever missions are given to me, regardless of the greater whole," he purposely repeated. "As opposed to you, Frau Oberst. You are the one who determines what that greater whole is."

The Japanese Major dared stroke his hand across Leila's cheek, while the Eurasian Colonel reached further to behind his head. Where his braid had once been.

"I don't know what choice you will ultimately make Leila, but I will tell you this much," Akito assured her. "Whether against the Demon King or our own demons, we will follow you. As we always have."

Leila nodded, her eyes glistening with relief now. "I'm grateful Akito," she answered back. "To all of you."


Urasoe Castle
Urasoe, Okinawa, Ryukyu Republic

It was what C.C. had wanted to see for a long, long time, and yet she couldn't help but feel disappointment within. Standing beside the bed, very much unnoticed by the pair within, she looked over the sleeping Lelouch and Kallen, together in each other's arms and at the most peace she had ever seen upon either of them. By all accounts it was what she had long intended; that the two former high school students turned revolutionaries had finally realized their feelings for each other and had tied the knot, standing as one against the dark, dismal world outside. Alas however, the immortal "witch" knew better than that.

No, as much as C.C. would have wanted to believe otherwise, it did not end here. No matter how authentic their feelings were toward the other – and no matter how much they, or at least Lelouch, would have denied it, C.C. knew them to be quite true – this was not the confirmation she sought of them. When the two finally woke up and returned to the world at large, they would see it as little more than catharsis; a desperate escape from the death and destruction they had both endured, passionate but momentary. Comfort sex she believed the term was, and little else. Even when she, at least, knew it to be far more than that.

Damn it, she thought as she moved away from the bed and took one of the nearby chairs, gritting her teeth in frustration. For the second time in whole centuries, she felt anger. Not nearly as much as what she had held toward V.V., but it was still there. Only now directed at the pair within that bed, who were too stubborn to admit what they both held. To admit that they held love – true love – for each other, against all that was. Damn it.

Indeed the so-called "witch", for all of her supposed evilness, had labored hard for those two. After all, there were few things as precious, as well as rare, in this world as actual romantic love. For all of her immortal years she had rarely seen it, and only once had experienced it for herself. It was something more valuable, especially to her, than any kind of material wealth that could be offered; something whose mere possibility had been fought for since civilization's first dawn. And these two – this so-called Demon King and the Red Dragoness who protected him – had so much of it that it actually caused her aggravation. Another sensation she had originally thought lost to her.

For the life of her she thought this would have been it; that once the dam would burst, Lelouch and Kallen would finally admit to what they felt for the other. But no, that would not be. The two were just too stubborn, as well as too focused on their "duties", to admit that they had the one thing that really mattered. Lest it somehow distract them from said "duties", as Kallen had told her before. Nothing short of infuriating, especially to one such as C.C.

Still, C.C. took it for what it was, and what it would do for them. Like it or not, this would at least alleviate the pressure that either had come under, as well as resolve them further into the fight. They would need that, she knew all too well; as autumn approached, the days were steadily growing darker, and the battles would become more intense as a result. For all that had been accomplished through Akatsuki, the war remained on, and soon they would be marching upon an entirely new field of battle. One that would bring about only further death and destruction, perhaps even more than what had been wrought in China.

She actually shivered at the thought, as well as the knowledge that it could very well cost her either of these two. She could admit it now, at least to herself. Lelouch and Kallen were not just contractors to her anymore; they were not there simply to fulfill their shared obligation to her through Geass. She cared for them; actually cared for them. Enough that, should the end ever come to any of it, she would see them happy and fulfilled above all else. Yet one more thing she had thought lost to her, only to be rediscovered centuries later.

I never thought it would get this frustrating, she thought to the open air, imagining the one who mattered just beyond. Did you see this as well George?

No answer was given, which was typical. Not that she needed it, as she was sure her former charge had foreseen this within his visions. He had certainly foreseen everything else; in fact, C.C. only now realized that he had vastly understated his explanations to her and Ben. If not failing to mention certain details outright.

Still, while the overall result wasn't what she wanted, at least it was a positive development. Looking toward the sleeping pair again, C.C. could at least see that they had become that much closer, both physically and spiritually. This was a good thing, she knew. They would need that fortitude in the days ahead; the days that would be spent in the Far East and those that would come soon after. Until all that was preordained came to pass.