"The world perishes not from bandits and fires, but from hatred, hostility, and all these petty squabbles."
- Anton Chekhov

Chapter XLVI: Adjournment

Berlin Palace
Berlin, State of Germany, Eurasian Union
November 17, 2025

It was a dark and stormy day, to put a twist on an old literary cliché. The sky above Berlin was overcast and a dark gray that Kessler had not seen since the earliest days of the year, with snow falling lightly outside the window of his office. There wasn't too much of it yet, but as autumn gradually transitioned into winter, the snow would fall more heavily, and the final days of Anno Domini's two thousandth and twenty fifth year would gradually come to pass through it. Kessler, knowing all that was going on now, could only hope there was a two thousandth and twenty sixth year beyond that horizon; otherwise from his present perspective, the scene outside his office very much looked like Fimbulvetr, which precluded the coming of Ragnarok. The end of all that was.

Two weeks had passed since the failure of Operation Tiegel and Bloody Marry's conquest of Yekaterinburg. Through that span, her forces had crossed the gap between the Urals and was now well upon the Eurasian Steppe, their path toward Moscow all but unimpeded. Part of that was his fault admittedly, as he had given direct orders to Central Command, and therefore Zhukov, to withhold any further offensive action against Marrybell's forces and to instead focus on bolstering Moscow first and foremost. The protests had been quite vocal, especially those made by the Bear of the Far East himself, but in the end, all remaining Far Eastern forces had withdrawn to the city, where they would await the coming of Marry's legions. Where the fate of Eurasia would ultimately be decided, at least within that realm of the world.

That brought Tiegel to mind again, which Kessler was still trying to wrap his head around. By and large Zhukov's strategy had been sound, even without the intervention of Balmung, something that Kessler did well not to dwell on, at least for the moment. For an agonizingly short span of time, the Britannians had given way to the grind of attrition warfare and were breaking apart before a growing counteroffensive. And then that time had passed, and all hell had broken loose through the aftermath. The Britannians, through still unknown means, had recomposed their lines and regained their advance, all without any regard to their mounting casualties. Zhukov had tried to hold the line as best as he could, something that Kessler recognized from his perch, but even the grandson of Georgy Zhukov, and arguably Georgy Zhukov himself, could have done only so much in the face of an advancing army that no longer feared nor hesitated toward death. In point of fact, Kessler had actually commended Zhukov for holding out for as long as he had, but all the same, the damage remained done.

Just what kind of spell had Marrybell cast upon her army with that broadcast of hers? Surely she had not repeated her father's eulogy for Prince Clovis out of random inclination. Which of those words had been the trigger, and what had that precise word, or words, caused to take place? A chemical induction? Infrasonic signaling? Good old fashioned brainwashing? No one, even among the brightest Eurasia had to offer, had any answers, despite literal days of analysis. Only the results had been apparent, best emphasized by those maddened chants of "All Hail Britannia".

Kessler actually felt himself shiver at his recollection of the battle footage, having felt as though he had not witnessed the advance of a human army, but something that very well could have been summoned by the Fifth or Sixth Trumpets. How had the Britannians even conceived of such a terrible weapon? One that could strip its victims' individuality, as well as their will to live, and leave them as true to life tin soldiers? Even Kessler, who was as Machiavellian as any within Eurasia's public offices, found such a thing wholly abhorrent. If anything it made him appreciate Balmung that much more, for as much of a weapon as it was in itself, it "merely" destroyed as opposed to enslaved.

That brought to mind what should have been the deciding factor of the war again, such that Kessler felt his blood begin to boil with familiar intensity. The war could have been, should have been, decided right then and there. One shot could have ended the entire Far Eastern Front, one third of the entire war in Eurasia's victory. But no, through the incompetence of but a single man, the opportunity had been skipped over and wasted. And quite possibly the entire front with it.

The worst part about that debacle was that Kessler could not do anything about it now, not even to set an example. Any other day he would have had the man – Peiper he believed was his name – flayed and hung from the nearest lamppost, and quite possibly his wife and children with him. Unfortunately Kessler could not afford to set such a bad precedent, especially now, and it helped even less that Peiper had been attempting to kill Eurasia's "primary enemy" outside the Britannians. An enemy that had been attempting to kill another more dangerous enemy through the span, but still a threat to be dealt with nonetheless. Idiocy aside, Kessler certainly couldn't condemn Peiper for his initiative, no matter how much he truly wanted to.

Be all that is at it may however, the present remained, much to the knot in Kessler's stomach. The armies of Bloody Marry, whatever their means, had broken through the gates and were marching well into the west. Though Eurasia's defenders remained as stalwart as ever, the odds were far from their favor, especially given the nature of their enemy. And somewhere on that same battlefield, Zero and his Black Knights remained. Out of sight and well out of reach, but as present as the snow that continued to fall before him.

Kessler could not help but again wonder. Was this indeed Fimbulvetr in progression? The prelude to the coming end of the world? No answer came to him obviously, but the President of Eurasia had a distinct feeling an answer would indeed come. And it would be well within the final days of 2025 AD.


Kubinka Air Base
Moscow, State of Moskva, Eurasian Union

"This is it?" Andrei let out quite incredulously. "This is the 'reinforcements' you were promised!?"

"To be honest, I'm surprised they sent this much," Zhukov commented, contrastingly appreciative to his son as he looked up into the knightmare's dimmed mono-eye. "Certainly impressive looking."

"Indeed," Louise agreed, also looking over the lone knightmare that the 10th Army had received to defend Moscow with. "So this is an eighth generation knightmare frame…"

Standing in the middle of the hangar, its fresh hellgrau paint reflecting the overhead lighting in a strange yet fittingly malevolent manner, the Loewe was indeed as imposing as the three officers had heard Eurasia's next mainline knightmare to be. As far as any of them could tell, this particular unit would be the first eighth generation type to ever set foot in the Far Eastern Front, and likely the deadliest weapon the 10th Army had ever possessed. Though as Andrei had alluded to, that hardly made up for the lack of numerical reinforcements that the elder Zhukov had pointedly requested.

"They say it can use blitz weaponry," Louise spoke up again after a short moment, now walking to inspect the Loewe's left flank. "And, in the right hands, can fight evenly with seventh generation units."

"So they say," Zhukov responded, folding his arms as he recalled the story of Erich Hartmann thoroughly decimating Britannians before fighting the Black Prince in Tobruk. He had supposedly used a machine like this one in that sortie, though Zhukov also did well to remember what had happened to Hartmann in the end. "Hopefully it will perform against the Ceridwens well enough."

"And the devicer?" Andrei inquired, still put off that Central Command had sent them only the one knightmare instead of a whole division's worth.

Zhukov's responding grin was wry as he glanced between his son and future daughter-in-law. "Any takers?"

To that, Louise matched his grin and shook her head as she stepped back over. "I like my Teddy Baer," she responded as she came back over to her fiancée, placing her hand on his shoulder. "Besides, it will look better in the history books. The great-grandson of Georgy Zhukov defending the Rodina in Eurasia's latest…"

"I still would have preferred another battalion or two," Andrei responded exasperatedly. Though Louise meant it all in jest, as she always did, Andrei would have been lying if he claimed his familial lineage and how modern day Eurasia saw it never bothered him. Especially when it came to climbing up the ranks.

That put out of his system however, it didn't take long for him to look back up to the Loewe with an anticipating grin. Especially toward the thought of fighting Marrybell's elites on equal footing. "Though I suppose the Rodina does not care what I use to fight, so long as I respond to her call."

"Heh," both Zhukov and Louise let out in amusement. They both knew Andrei would do his new steed justice, even if his record hadn't been able to speak for itself.

"That being said," Andrei continued, moving back to business at hand. "Do we have an estimate yet?"

Zhukov shook his head. "They're still gathering in Volga, so there is no clear timeframe…"

"But?" Louise questioned as well, knowing that the General had his own answer.

Zhukov shrugged. "We'll likely see them in December," he spoke sagely. "Before or after Christmas."

Louise nodded, and then smiled somewhat as a thought occurred to her. "I don't suppose Marrybell would go for a holiday truce."

Both the elder and younger Zhukovs shared that smile, themselves knowing that particular reference. "To play Fußball and sing carols between the trenches?" the General thought out loud, remembering that particular event of the Habsburg War in 1914. "I sincerely doubt it," he dryly replied.

Andrei could not help but sigh at the idea however. "Shame really," he spoke as he wrapped his arm around Louise waist, to which she followed along with the same feeling of melancholy. "I suppose we'll have to wait until after the war for a proper Christmas then."

"Yes," Zhukov concurred with the two, feeling that very same mournfulness as the two lovers, who would have long been married had it not been for this thrice-damned war. He also did well not to say that they would all have to survive to enjoy such festivities, the celebration of life altogether. Funny that.


Das Bernsteinzimmer
Moscow, State of Moskva, Eurasian Union

Compared to the Romanov Krone in Yekaterinburg, Ryo could not help but note how livelier this particular tavern was, along with others like it across the city. For one thing, the establishment was far from deserted; there were multitudes of men and women in uniform, as well as civilian clothing, sitting about the tables and bar counter, conversing amongst themselves as attendants moved to and from with food and drink. For another, morale was, most surprisingly, quite high with the occupants. Far from the destitution one would expect of a cornered, severely weakened army, these defenders of Eurasia were well aware of what laid ahead of them and were mostly conversing about their "glorious" last stand against Marrybell and her minions. In fact, from what Ryo could gleam from the surrounding commentators, as well as those at his own table, were mostly about living it up to the fullest before taking their last stand against Bloody Marry. And as some dared believe, perhaps they could still win yet.

At least we'll be going into battle with high spirits, Ryo thought as he took a drink of beer, smirking a little as turned back to the counter. Just beside him, Yukiya was chatting with a few other pilots about his ventures – though he did well to stay away from Kazakhstan or anything else of that same nature – while Ayano was pointedly passing up any attempts to woo her. The rest of the Werwolfs were in much the same state, spread out across the tavern and mingling among the rest of the patrons and generally living it up. Some of them were even attracting others of the opposite sex, or the same, to spend the later evening hours with, much to Ryo's appreciation.

"A refill sir?" the fraulein bartender inquired, having noticed that Ryo had downed the rest of his beer. Ryo couldn't help but inwardly grin as he noted the clear interest from the bartender.

"Danke," Ryo responded as he passed the mug over, the bartender smiling as she moved away to refill. Perhaps it wouldn't for him to take up any offer as well, given what he knew lay ahead of them. And unlike Yukiya, or their CO for that matter, he didn't have a girl waiting for him back home in Germany. Which they may or may not return to after it was all over.

Ryo sighed somewhat at the thought of it, but managed to keep his melancholy hidden when the bartender returned with his beverage. Their mission was supposed to have ended the moment Operation Mitternacht had concluded. How had they gotten embroiled in the largest fight Eurasia had faced since the days of Erwin Rommel and Georgy Zhukov? Not that Ryo dared turn away from a fight of course, much less against the Britannians. But that didn't still change the fact what had begun as a little hit-and-run op in Chinese Kazakhstan had become something entirely different. Something far more dire, especially as Ryo recalled the final phases of Operation Tiegel. When Blood Marry's legion, originally on the verge of defeat, became exactly that. Legion.

What the hell was that anyway? Ryo thought, recalling those events as though they had occurred just yesterday and not two weeks ago. He still shivered at his recollection, the imagery of Britannian knightmares driving forward through the fire, entirely regardless of their casualties. Eurasian positions faltering in all areas of the city, unable to stem such a great human driven wave. And the incessant chanting, which even now, Ryo could hear as clearly as…

"Your drink, Herr Hauptmann," the bartender returned, passing Ryo his refilled mug on a napkin before moving off to address another customer.

Pausing a moment in his thoughts, Ryo he picked up the mug to drink, but before he could, he caught something at the corner of his eye that made him smirk again. A particular hotel in Moscow with a room number and a time of rendezvous. Clearly this fraulein, who was of the short redhaired, good figured and naturally around his age variety, was not at all hesitant about her intentions. Nor did she care any more than the rest of the establishment did that he was not "native" Eurasian.

"Freies Eurasien," Ryo commented as he caught the more than suggestive gleam from the bartender, who was refilling another mug at the moment. All in all he could think of worse ways to spend his potentially last few nights among the living. Again he did not have to think back to Yekaterinburg to know how very likely that was. Any more than the rest of the tavern, who had either been there or had seen the footage, needed to.


Odinstovo Army Base
Moscow, State of Moskva, Eurasian Union

I see, Leila commented to the wholly relaxed Akito Hyuga as they communicated through her special power. The very same power that their new enemy apparently possessed and had used in full. Is anyone else aware?

Not among the Werwolfs, no, Akito responded through his complete ease, a state of being that he only allowed around her. It also helped that, once more through his love's power, he could feel his head against her lap, her fingers stroking through his hair. Despite the fact he was laying in a bed some thousand kilometers away from Weisswolf. I don't know if General Zhukov or anyone else would know, though he has not shown any indication of it.

As she continued to "stroke" Akito's hair, Leila nodded as she took that in. This was a most unwelcome development to say the least, as though there hadn't been enough of those already. For Bloody Marry of all people to possess Geass – a command type at that – and to have used it on her own troops. Zhukov and his entourage truly had a fight on their hands when the Britannians came upon Moscow. So did Akito and the rest of Kampfgruppe Werwolf for that matter.

You know we can't pull out now, Leila spoke softly to her love, allowing but a hint of a melancholy to show through their otherwise tender moment. As much as I…

It's alright Frau Oberst, Akito assured, reaching his hand back up. Though he had merely reached up to the open air in his domain, their link allowed him to feel and stroke Leila's cheek in turn, soothing her. Even if you could bring us back now, you wouldn't turn away from a fight like this. And neither would we.

Heh, Leila let out softly, reaching her hand up as well to deepen the contact between them, even though it was not true in the physical sense. I suppose not.

Akito smiled – something else he only did around her – to further assure her. No, there was no running from this battle, especially with Geass involved. A power that both he and Leila had been aware of, and dealt with when they could, through much of their respective lives.

For better or worse, you may consider this an official mission Herr Major, Leila continued as she resumed stroking Akito's hair, causing him to relax that much more. By order of the President of the Eurasian Union, Moscow must and will not fall to the Britannians.

Thus necessitating Kampfgruppe Werwolf's involvement, Akito summarized as well, then smiling again. This time knowingly. Though I do not think you were officially given that order from Herr Präsident.

Leila chuckled in response. No, but at this point, what does it matter? she retorted. Besides, we know that Zero and the Black Knights are involved as well, so it falls under our purview regardless.

Yes, Akito agreed, though he would rather not contend with the Black Knights again. Last time they had attacked Krasnoyarsk directly while and the other wolves were busy in Yekaterinburg, so there was no way for them to cross paths. But what would happen if the Black Knights took part in Moscow's defense? Would they have to fight once more, even as Bloody Marry's forces sundered the city?

Leila, even without her Geass, easily picked up on Akito's hesitance and so reached down and brushed the back of her fingers against his own cheek. Obviously you will focus your efforts on the Britannians, Herr Major, she commanded, softly yet still firm. For they are our more dangerous enemy.

Now it was Akito's turn to laugh somewhat. If only the idiots at Volgograd had understood that, he commented with a tinge of bitterness. To think Eurasia had the opportunity to end that part of the war then and there, and the idiots in onetime Stalingrad had blundered it entirely. And what are your orders in regard to Balmung?

The Colonel exhaled through her nostrils as she considered that. It had taken a bit of effort on her end, even after its firing, but she had managed to verify both Balmung's existence as well as its design. Both of which scared her almost as much as Bloody Marry's Geass.

Unfortunately we can do nothing, Leila responded with a frown. Volgograd is practically on the other side of the Steppe from Moscow, as well as heavily defended. And you have nothing in your inventory that can reach the reflector drones.

I know, Akito agreed, taking on a frown as well. But if the sturmtruppen were to turn it upon the latter…

A possibility, Leila allowed, before taking on a more conspiring smile. One that I'm sure he has realized.

Once more Akito smiled, matching his superior and lover. It was quite obvious who Leila was referring to.

I'm sure he has at that, Akito said, a certain Demon King and his entourage now at the forefront. Though it chafed against him somewhat, Akito knew that if anyone could deal with both Bloody Marry and Balmung simultaneously, it was Zero. In fact, he, and Leila with him, would have bet sure money that the masked man was already hard at work toward that end. Wherever he was hiding now.


Black Knights mobile battleship Izumo
State of Moskva, Eurasian Union

Even within the warm confines of the Izumo's observation deck, Lelouch could not help but feel his bones chill as he watched the blizzard continue on outside. He had heard many stories of the infamous Russian winter – though it was still technically autumn – especially as it pertained to and hindered invading armies, but this was the first time he had seen such intense wind and cold. For obvious reasons, the former prince was very thankful that there was glass and metal – not to mention a heating apparatus – keeping it from him and those around him. He could only imagine what Erwin Rommel and his forces had gone through when they first marched into the Soviet Union so long ago, from the opposite end of where he and his own forces currently were.

For better or worse however, the blizzard was serving his immediate purposes well enough. Not only did it shroud the Izumo from outside reconnaissance, up to and including the airborne drones utilized by that Eurasian wunderwaffe, but it also concealed where his assault group had ended up following their "disappearance" from Krasnoyarsk. Not that the Eurasians would ever think to search so far west from the aforementioned staging ground of course; at best, they probably believed the Black Knights' vanishing act to be some new sort of ECM or active camouflage as opposed to its more revolutionary function. Lelouch felt himself smile a little at that knowledge. Of all the things he and his Order had gained from Alexandra Land, Caer Sidi was perhaps the most valuable of bounties. As a weapon that would prove instrumental to his future plans, and perhaps a vital asset for the world that was to come, even though it had existed long before the present iteration.

Though Lelouch had only recently become aware of the Caer Sidi System, he had technically experienced it long before, specifically on Shikine Island. The mysterious method of transportation that had ushered him, and Suzaku, Kallen and Euphie alongside, from Schneizel's death trap to impromptu salvation on relatively distant Kamine. Since that advent, Lelouch had had Rakshata and her division labor long and hard to figure out what exactly the Britannians (highly ironic in hindsight) had done to perform such a feet – and possibly see if it could be replicated – but for clear and obvious reasons, no leads had been found whatsoever. Only after Alexandra Land had both the method, and the system itself, become known and demonstratable, which had allowed Lelouch and company to be where they were now. Nearly four thousand kilometers west of Krasnoyarsk, where they had alluded another death trap in the making.

Even now, Lelouch could only fathom, as well as slightly dread, what Caer Sidi entailed. To utilize the power of the Thought Elevators to move anything, from a person to an entire landship (perhaps even multiple), from one point on the physical plane to another using the Otherworld as a medium. Ancient and arcane as it was, such that Rakshata and her team were still trying to understand its basics, such a system would prove instrumental to Lelouch's future plans. Even if he himself remained apprehensive, perhaps even fearful, toward using it, alongside everything else involved with the Eildons, the First Civilization and Geass.

Despite said apprehensiveness, Lelouch and the Black Knights had utilized the system effectively three times already. First to transport his assault force directly south of Krasnoyarsk, and the second to remove them once the operation had failed. The third time was arguably the most audacious: to move Black Knight, as well as Peace Mark, forces into and across the whole of Eastern Eurasia. All in anticipation of Marrybell's coming endgame, both in itself and to preclude as much as possible.

The thought of his half-sister caused another chill to run through Lelouch's bones, one of an entirely different nature from the cold outside. Marrybell. Outside of Schneizel, she had been the one sibling he had truly feared, and what he had seen at Krasnoyarsk and heard from Yekaterinburg had more than cemented that fear. He still did not know what her aim was once she conquered Moscow, but more than ever, Lelouch knew that he could not let it come to pass. Not when she wielded such a terrible Geass, and even more so one that she was willing to inflict upon her own followers. No good could possibly come from that, or from Bloody Marry herself, once the war in this part of the world was concluded.

That being said, Lelouch still felt a vestige of curiosity toward that notion. What did Marrybell plan for the future exactly? Despite her reputation as a pillager and destroyer, Lelouch knew her better than to believe she wanted Moscow, and the entirety of the Far East, simply to burn it to the ground. There was more there, he could feel, even if he did not quite understand. Much like Euphemia, who was as similar in character as she was completely opposite, Marrybell never held any desire for the Crown, nor had she ever aspired for obscene wealth and territory like Guinevere or Clovis had. Then again, Lelouch had also known her not to have fancied war and bloodshed the way Cornelia and Carine did, and yet here she was, doing well to inflict both.

Somehow, Lelouch knew that the answer he sought lay precisely there. As serene and forwardly pacifistic as Marrybell had been in her youth, Lelouch had known there to be a darkness well underneath, which was consequently the reason why he had feared her and admittedly still did. A darkness he had felt emanate from her like an all-encompassing shadow, which bespoke of the malevolence of its host, even when she wore the face and disposition of an angel. Lelouch had often wondered, even back then, how he could feel such a thing from Marrybell. How such evil could exist in the unlikeliest, the most unfathomable of places.

Then again, she had lost her mother and sister well before… Lelouch pondered further, frowning at the thought. It wasn't common knowledge through the Imperial Court, but Flora and Julia mel Britannia had indeed perished through one of the innumerable power plays the Imperials wrought on one another for the Crown. Lelouch had been too young to understand at the time, and he had only heard Marrybell refer to it once when he had gotten older, in which she had written it off as a tragic accident. Tragic it certainly was, though Lelouch had his doubts toward vengeance being Marrybell's motivation in the present. After all, she had only been five years old at the time, and though she no doubt had dearly loved her mother and younger sister, it wasn't as though she had been cast aside like he and Nunnally had. The Zevons had seen to that personally.

Regardless of all of it however, Lelouch knew that Bloody Marry's reign could not continue. Both for Eurasia's survival, as well as his own agenda, he had to cast his sister down. And now that all his pieces – save for one of particular vitality – were assembled upon this frozen plain, whose cold continued to billow just beyond his immediate shelter, Lelouch would do just that. It was only a matter of time.


"I still can't believe you did that," Kallen said, staring at the immortal "witch" and onetime maiden of revolution with lingering accusation and disbelief.

Despite that, C.C. remained very much unphased. "And why shouldn't I have?" she responded with a bland expression as she took another bite of her habitual pizza. "A divine calling is fine, and liberating France from Britannian dominance was a good thing and all, but neither of them pay the bills. And if I had to live an immortal life, then it would certainly be with considerable wealth in hand."

"And so the Maid of Orleans cashes in on her postmortem fame," Kallen sighed, once more in highly apparent disbelief. Outside of spending her free time with Lelouch and otherwise killing Britannians, the Red Dragoness had done a fair amount of research into her Code Bearer's historical identities – at least the ones that C.C. had told her of – stemming from Jeanne d'Arc downward. Naturally it hadn't been long before one Claude des Armoises came up in that line up.

"You grew up in poverty yourself," C.C. shot back around mouthfuls. "What would you have done in my place, especially if your father was not of noble bearing from the start?"

"Touché," Kallen acknowledged, knowing that there was no arguing that one. As much of a squalor she, her mother and her brother had inhabited before her father had taken them – or at least she and her mother – in, it could only have been sheer opulence compared to the d'Arc family farm in 15th century Domrémy.

C.C. nodded in acceptance. "Besides, funding my retirement was the least my fellow countrymen could have done. They only burned me at the stake after all."

"Yes, yes," Kallen waved her off on that. As though she had to be reminded how Jeanne d'Arc's original life ended for the hundredth time, as C.C. was become increasingly frequent in doing. "Is that why King Charles didn't order you burned again? Even though you were 'impersonating' a saint?"

"I wasn't canonized until 1922, well after that particular death," C.C. corrected mildly. "But yes, Charles was most understanding of my plight, as you can imagine. He was even nice enough to cover for myself, as well as Pierre and Jean, as we disappeared back into the historical background with our loot."

Kallen was unable to keep from grinning to that. "And just how did the good king react to seeing Jeanne d'Arc so alive and well?"

The former Maiden tilted her head as she grinned the same as Kallen. "Not too poorly in my opinion, the darkening of his royal trousers notwithstanding."

That earned a small laugh from both women, with Kallen imagining how the French King involuntarily relieved himself upon that advent. For C.C. however, it was but another moment of melancholy.

"Charles wasn't a perfect king, but he was good for his time," C.C. said, fondly recounting her time with her first liege. "Not many would have taken the word of a random peasant girl, no matter who she claimed to have been talking to in her father's garden."

Kallen nodded, remembering that part of the record as well. Though she was tempted to inquire if the visions that Jeanne purportedly had received from the archangel Michael and the saints had been real, but decided not to dig too deeply. Instead, she decided to move onto another, possibly less touchy subject.

"What about Gilles de Rais?" she inquired, unable to contain her curiosity. "Was he really…?"

"No more than Jacques de Molay before him," C.C. responded rather stiffly. "No, Gilles' only crime was that he was too vocal in his condemnation of the Church for my death."

Kallen frowned, easily connecting the dots there. "I see."

C.C. sighed as she remembered her onetime comrade-in-arms, and dear friend. "It's a shame what happened to him, and how history remembers him. Gilles was as much a believer as I was, and as loyal and dedicated as any proud scion of France could ever hope to be."

The immortal seemed to stare off into the distance at that moment. "But then, I suppose that was why they went as far as to claim him an occultist and a child killer. They never would have been able to hang him otherwise."

Kallen couldn't help but note a bit more melancholy in that, causing begin another question. "Were you…?"

This time C.C. laughed at the notion straight out. "Women were not Gilles' preference. And even then, I was dedicated to God over all else."

Again Kallen nodded, taking that in. That was yet another area of C.C.'s past that she had never questioned, but now that it had been brought up, she couldn't help herself.

"I don't suppose you're still dedicated to God to that extent?" the Red Dragoness posited, this time in pseudo-challenge.

"Indeed," C.C. proclaimed as she took a drink from her awamori glass, the alcohol only making her feel more somber. Somehow it emphasized her next set of words. "Though that doesn't mean I can't have fun in the meantime, especially where the not-so-deadly sins are concerned."

"Right," Kallen espoused, as though it hadn't been so obvious. As though gluttony and sloth were not hallmarks of the immortal C.C., while greed was just made apparent as well. This brought yet another inquiry to mind for the Geass wielder.

"Does that entail taking a lover every now and then?" Kallen added, once more in near challenge. "Or are you going to tell me you've been celibate this whole…?"

Much to Kallen's surprise, C.C. didn't rise to the bait, at least at first. Instead, Kallen thought she saw a small flash of emotion cross the immortal's eyes upon that, as though those spoken words had triggered something deep within C.C.'s being. However, C.C. was quick to regain herself before she answered.

"I can't say I've been celibate," the Code Bearer admitted straight out. "Or that I refuse to engage in the pleasures of the flesh when the opportunity presents itself."

Kallen opened her mouth to question, C.C. went on. "However, when it comes to the subject of love…" she said, taking a more measured drink at that time. "There was, and will always be, the one."

Upon registering Kallen's silence to that, C.C. smiled again. "Yes, you heard me right Kallen," she confirmed, knowing that, once again, she had stunned Kallen into sheer disbelief. "In all my six hundred or so years of living, there has only been one man I ever truly loved."

She then downed the rest of her glass, staring at the emptiness within as she seemingly declared. "And will ever love."

Again Kallen went to open her mouth to question further, but stopped herself at the last moment. Somehow, and some way, she knew there was whole truth in C.C.'s words, and that she would answer no more than that. To attempt further inquisition would only be superfluous at best.

Thus a newfound silence entered into the vicinity, with C.C. going back to absently consuming her lunch, as though all had returned to normal at that point. Kallen however, while taking a more steady drink of her own awamori, could not help but still wonder…


Considering the frigid temperatures outside, Marika was more than thankful that the Izumo's heating systems were at optimal state, especially as she felt the shower water run down her body. Despite what most of her comrades, whether within Zero Squadron or without, seemed to think of her, she was far from the coldhearted killer woman that felt nothing and showed nothing. Quite the contrary she was as warm blooded as any one of them, such that she felt her body relax that much more against the running hot water. Indeed, the sooner this foray into Eurasia was concluded and the sooner they returned to Ryukyu, the better. Especially with the end of year winter upon the horizon.

The mere thought of how her fellow Black Knights saw her had never mattered much to Marika, but as relaxed as she was in the present, she could not help but consider their apprehension. No doubt several of them, especially those in Iga, still wondered if she remained a Britannian loyalist, and potentially a spy by extension. After all, her brother had been a member of the Purist Faction – Colonel Gottwald's righthand man in point of fact – and she had only joined the unit led by his killer, the Red Dragoness herself. Surely she was plotting to kill said Dragoness in her sleep, or at some pivotal moment in battle, to avenge her brother and further Britannia's triumph over the cursed "Elevens". Surely she, and Liliana with her, would eventually reveal their true colors from their safe perch within Zero Squadron, albeit at some other time than the present. Once more treachery and subterfuge could take a backseat to warmth and comfort, especially from her shower.

If only they knew what I truly think and feel, Marika thought bemusedly, and with more than a spoonful of irony. Again what her reputation and her fellow Black Knights thought of her had never truly bothered her, especially now. Otherwise she would have gone out of her way to show them that she was as loyal to their cause, and to Zero, as the rest of them, and her squadron, were. That as much as she had loved Kewell, the fact remained that he had fought for the wrong reasons, and though she still felt sorrow toward his death at Narita, she did not begrudge the Major in the least. For the moment, only Colonel Gottwald understood this, as well as what she truly considered important to her. So long as her comrades didn't act on their suspicions, or much more get in her way in battle, they could think of her as the next Benjamin Franklin all they wanted. In the meantime, there were other matters that upset her more.

Leaning forward and resting her elbows against the shower wall, Marika once more pictured her newfound enemy in her mind's eye. Leonhardt Steiner. Her onetime fiancée, and childhood love, now her adversary. As with everything else, she had done well to conceal her turmoil from the other Black Knights – again only Colonel Gottwald had seen through it initially – but the fact remained that she was still truly bothered by this development. If anything, she never thought she would ever see Leonhardt again following the Devastation.

Barely sighing above the still running water, Marika could only concede that stranger, and far worse, things had happened from the Devastation onward. Eight years ago she never would have seen herself fighting against her own nation, as well as a dedicated follower to a self-proclaimed Demon King preaching salvation, and yet here she was now. Hell, she had been an entirely different woman eight years ago. An otherwise typical Britannian noblewoman turned soldier, whose goals centered around to marrying into another noble family – whose scion had been the love of her life by sheer coincidence – and otherwise making a modest name for herself in the Imperial hierarchy. Hardly the battle hardened exile who sought to destroy her former nation with the rest.

In that sense, what had she thought would prevent her from meeting Leonhardt in battle eight years later? Granted she never thought he would become one of Bloody Marry's minions, but he had been even more of a soldier than she, and just as dedicated to serving the Crown. Surely she should have expected as much from the beginning, especially after Zero had brought his plans for reverse global conquest to light. Surely their fate had been sealed then and there.

Gritting her teeth at the idea, Marika wanted to slam her fists against the wall, but reneged on it, if only because it would have taken more effort than she wanted to exert. She had never regretted joining the Black Knights, nor had she ever thought twice of fighting her former countrymen. However, Leonhardt was different. She knew she could fight him, as she had at Krasnoyarsk. What she had yet to figure out, however, was whether she could kill him or not.

Yes, even the mere thought of killing her first, and so far only, love still caused a cold blackness to run through her body, which not even the heat from the shower water could assuage. She was hesitant, apprehensive of the idea even. Something that she could not afford to be, especially in battle. Especially as a member of Zero's vanguard.

Eventually regaining herself, Marika reached up and gently turned the knob, ending the shower. She remained standing there for a bit longer, with only the dripping water being heard in the background as she wrestled with her apprehension. As much as she wanted to believe otherwise, she knew there was still a part of her that still felt for – perhaps even still loved – Leonhardt. She also knew that, as stone-faced as she was on the exterior, she could not keep herself from feeling those emotions within, especially now. Even if it would mean life and death further on.

"Do you feel as I do, Leon?" Marika murmured so low that her voice barely reached her own ears. Somewhere further east, she knew that her ex was out there, with the rest of Marrybell's legions. Was he feeling the same hesitance as she was? Did a part of him still feel for her as she did for him?

Ultimately shaking her head, Marika forced the thought back as she exited the shower, replacing a bath towel around herself. Like it or not, Leonhardt was an enemy to be defeated, perhaps even destroyed, now. And if there was any assurance to be had, it was that their encounter at Krasnoyarsk would not be their final meeting. Not so long as she and the rest of the Black Knights remained in that frozen wasteland, as far away from home as they were. Not so long as First Lieutenant Marika Soresi of the Black Knights could still fight.

No matter what, or who, against.


"I'll say one thing for Bloody Marry, she can certainly move her forces around, and quickly enough," Ohgi commented as he, his wife, Jeremiah and Tohdoh observed the latest troop movements upon the enlarged monitor. It was almost a traditional setup, with the Black Knight dots and lines being on the western side in Moskva, and the Britannian dots and lines being on the eastern side in Volga. As per usual, the Britannian formations were larger and more numerous than theirs. "You think they're all going to attack Moscow?"

"More like the whole of Eastern Eurasia, though the lion's share will clearly go into Moscow," Tohdoh added from the side, stroking his goateed chin in thought. "I estimate anywhere between four to six field armies, plus air assets and the Ceridwen Knights. Everything else will be sent to pacify the rest of the state before and after."

"And once Moskva falls, it's game, set and match," Chigusa frowned as she herself saw the implications. "Unless Zhukov has another corps or two to spare, there will be nothing left to protect Ladoga and Azov."

"If he did, they would have clearly been drawn out to reinforce Moscow with the rest," Jeremiah muttered, wearing the same frown as his former subordinate. "On the other hand, this makes things considerably easier for us. If Marrybell is concentrating the bulk of her forces on that one city, then we need only aid Zhukov in defending that singular point."

"That is unless Zero has something else in mind," Ohgi lightly corrected, as though he had to remind the former leader of the Purist Faction.

Jeremiah smirked and shrugged at the notion. "Far be it for me to assume otherwise General. I'm simply making my own analysis until his next plan of action."

"Indeed," Tohdoh commented back appreciatively. As strange as it was to have the former Britannian Colonel on their side now, even Tohdoh had to admit he found Jeremiah's insights and analyses quite intriguing. Once more however, such things only mattered until the Demon King proclaimed his next strategy. "For the time being however, we should consider Moscow a worst case scenario and that any further engagement will take place either in the open field or one of the other cities."

"Of course," Chigusa agreed, seeing the logic in that. Not only did that buy them ample room to continue operations before any potential endgame, but it also meant they would not have to cross paths with the Eurasians, who for all accounts and purposes remained a hostile force. "Though in contrast to Jeremiah's point, that's a lot of field to cover against a numerically superior army. Short of our isolating Marrybell's present command post, a mass offensive in Volga would be suicide."

"Unfortunately," Tohdoh concurred, much as it galled him that, even this far into the war, the Black Knights still lacked in the way of the numbers and manpower their enemies took for granted. "Consolidation remains our only option. Striking one or two weak points to cripple the entirety."

"And those weak points would be…?" Ohgi commented, his eyes scanning over the map to make sure he did not miss anything that the three beside him – all of whom had been proper military long before he – would have seen right from the start.

Seeing what the Vice Commander of the Black Knights was trying to do, Jeremiah managed to withhold a smirk. "There aren't any sir," he said, assuring Ohgi that he, in fact, had not missed anything. "As you highlighted on, Marrybell has spread her forces far too widely."

"She's not particularly strong in any single area, but she's practically dispersed her army across the entire steppe," Chigusa explained further. "Any attack we mount would be negligible at best. We would be costing the Britannians some of their numbers, but only just."

"Normally such a strategy would cost offensive power. But because she only has one central target, Marrybell can easily reconcentrate her forces once Moscow is within her reach," Tohdoh espoused, audibly sighing. "And she would be able to do it that much faster with her Geass."

The other three sighed at that mentioning as well. Once again, Geass was the ultimate wild card in what would have otherwise been a conventional military operation.

"In other words, we have no clear target ourselves, and therefore no means to do anything except strike a glancing blow," Jeremiah admonished with some emerging frustration. "Until Marrybell reaches Moscow anyway."

"Heh," Ohgi let out, only somewhat bitterly. "At least she's still a long way from doing just that," he said, taking visible solace in that fact.

The other three nodded in conclusion with the vice commander. It wasn't much they all knew, but as the dots and lines on the map indicated, there was still some time and distance yet between Bloody Marry and the onetime Soviet capital. Surely that would be enough for them, or more precisely their supreme commander, to act upon.


Imperial Army Headquarters Perm
Perm, Volga, Britannian Empire

Taking a breath as he approached his liege's new dwelling – once the executive suite of the onetime Grand Hotel Perm – Blackman waited for but a few seconds as one of the guards reached over and opened the door, allowing him entry. It was a routine report, and one that his liege no doubt expected him to deliver, so there was no reason for him to feel anxious. At the very least, that's what he told himself and dared feel as he entered the suite, wholly sure that this would be a standard report to his princess and commander and nothing else.

Music – Tchaikovsky's rendition of Eugene Onegin if he had to guess – played over the stereo in old Russian baritone as Blackman came up to the office area of the suite, all but coming to a halt straight out as his eyes fell upon the old wooden desk there. A highly curious item sat upon the desk now, one that indicated much to Blackman as his body turned cold and his movements became cautiously sluggish, such that he was barely able to make those two steps just before the desk. Doing well to ignore the warning glare of Major Zevon, who was sitting upon one of the side couches, Blackman nonetheless cleared his throat and waited for his princess to address his presence.

"Report General," Marrybell lightly commanded as she remained turned away, the back of her chair facing the general. Doing well not to waver, Blackman did just that.

"Your Highness," Blackman addressed evenly, once more ignoring the glare from his liege's knight of honor. "Final mop up operations have concluded. As you assessed, the remains of Zhukov's 10th Army and its affiliates have withdrawn wholly to Moskva, though some minor pockets of resistance remained throughout more crucial points, namely the cities of Ufa, Kazan and Saratov. Regardless, the former Eurasian state of Volga is now yours in its entirety."

"Good. Very good," Marrybell seemed pleased enough with that prospect, though she remained turned away in her chair. "And the Black Knights?"

Somehow managing not to swallow, Blackman nonetheless proceeded. "I'm afraid there have been so sightings or reports of their presence at this time. In fact, I daresay that they are likely not in Volga at all."

"Or perhaps that's what Zero would want us to think General," Oldrin spoke up at last, her voice now holding the same tone of warning as her eyes. "After all, there were no sightings or reports in Krasnoyarsk either, and yet…"

"Agreed Major," Blackman conceded. Though he outranked the knight by a wide margin, her status as the princess' knight, and a Zevon alongside, put Oldrin well above him in the hierarchy. "But unless Gefjun Disturbers can turn things invisible to the naked eye as well as radar and the like, I cannot see any indication that Zero and his entourage are about to make another direct attack as Krasnoyarsk."

"Neither do I," Marrybell mused, indirectly quelling her knight's ire and affirming Blackman that she was on the same page. She couldn't help but smile as she all but physically felt Blackman visibly relax, though only to a certain extent, by her words. "It's more likely that he in Moskva himself, either biding his time or waiting for his to make the first move."

Understanding that particular indirect message, Blackman nonetheless stood by. "Your orders, ma'am?"

Marrybell nodded from her perch. "You may begin preparations for the next phase," she commanded her general. "Though our objective is now well in sight, we cannot get complacent, especially with that one crucial task ahead of us."

Blackman opened his mouth to respond, but then snapped it shut as Marrybell continued. "Proceed but remain cautious General. If Zero really is due west of us, then he will no doubt see this as an opportunity."

The General's instinctive response was to question that; what could Zero possibly do, even at that point of vulnerability, when he had displayed utter powerlessness in the face of his liege at Krasnoyarsk? However, Blackman easily held his tongue, knowing that, while it was in his purview, it would have been improper to question his princess on such a matter.

"Understood," Blackman replied with that single word before drawing to a salute and turning to make his exit. Before he could reach the door again, Marrybell stopped him.

"General Blackman," she called out, smiling to herself as she caused the general to all but screech his bootheels in his halt. "What do you think?"

To emphasize, she turned up the volume up a margin. "Apropos, isn't it?"

For a moment, Blackman attempted to understand what specific point in the opera his liege was referring to, but quickly understood that was impossible for him. Even if he could translate Russian like her, he knew very little of the opera and the story it was based over, beyond it being about some old Russian aristocrat who squandered his life, namely any prospect of love or happiness, away out of sheer arrogance. Perhaps that was what Princess Marrybell was referring to specifically, though again, Blackman had no ability to discern it.

"As you say, Your Highness," he offered simply, before turning away again and making his exit. The opera continuing on well into the background as he moved through the guarded doorway once more.


"To the imminent end of the war," Sokkia raised her glass, causing Tink and Leonhardt to do the same. "The sooner the better."

"Here here," Leonhardt agreed wholeheartedly as they each clinked their glasses together and took swigs of their appropriated cognac. Considering how cold it was outside, the three devicers appreciated how fast the Eurasian liquor was in further warming them. Just as they appreciated having the entirety of their headquarters tavern to themselves, their comrades-in-arms apparently seeking warmth and comfort elsewhere in Perm.

"Five years," Leonhardt muttered as he looked down at the table, his voice distant and almost disbelieving. "It took us five years to get this far."

"Well, we did have to cross the whole of the Far East," Tink helpfully pointed out in his usual manner. "And there's all the terrible things that the enemy threw at us along the way."

"Heh, yeah," Sokkia agreed, the alcohol also doing well to mellow her out. Somehow it seemed so long ago that she and the rest of the Ceridwens landed in Kamchatka at the onset of the war. Just as it seemed so long ago that she had been a "mere" athlete as opposed to a soldier. "Five years of near continuous fighting, all boiling down to that one final battle."

"Just like in the movies," Leonhardt acknowledged, his face darkening at the thought. It didn't take much for Sokkia and Tink to both understood what, or who, he now thought of, much to the former's lingering exasperation.

"Fortunes of war Leonhardt," Sokkia could only offer. "Like it or not, she's going to be there with Zero and the rest. And if you cross paths, you're going to fight."

"I know," Leonhardt acknowledged, then downing his glass in one prolonged go. "It's just… I still can't shake the fact we would have been married by now…"

"A lot of people would have been married by now," Tink pointed out, this time with the same melancholy as his comrades. "In fact, a lot of people would still be alive now."

Sniffing at that fact, Leonhardt nodded in concurrence. "I'll be alright," he assured his fellow devicers. "If we cross paths again, I won't hold back."

"We know," Sokkia stated in understanding. She took note that Leonhardt didn't specifically say he would kill his ex-fiancée if it came down to it, but that was something that need not be brought up. "You didn't at Krasnoyarsk, so there's no reason to believe otherwise."

"Though chances are you'll be in for one hell of a fight," Tink commented as he refilled Leonhardt's downed tankard with nearby cognac bottle. "After all, hell hath no fury than…"

This time Leonhardt laughed at the reference before taking another siwg. "I think we'll all be in for a hell of a fight in Moscow. Not that we weren't in Krasnoyarsk."

"And this time, we'll be fighting two enemy forces," Sokkia glowered toward her own words. "As if the Eurasians by themselves haven't been bad enough."

"Eh, I'm not too worried about that myself," Tink shrugged. "From what I understand, Zhukov took a great beating at Yekaterinburg before he pulled back. And the Black Knights can't have too many of their own forces this far west."

"Yes, but now Zhukov has shored up his remaining forces in the most heavily defended city in the theater," Sokkia pointed back in turn. "And as for the Black Knights, they didn't have that many troops in Area 22 either, and yet…"

"We beat both of them down already, we can easily do it again," Leonhardt assured before any further outburst. "My only concern is surviving long enough for Zhukov to raise that white flag."

Both Sokkia and Tink sighed toward that. Their comrade made it sound so easy, even though they all knew the reality.

"Honestly, I just want it to be over," Leonhardt continued to state, leaning over the table with his hands clasped in front of him. "I want to go home to Lansing and spend the rest of my days trying to forget this godforsaken war, while making a life for myself outside of bloodshed."

"With or without inheriting your father's title and holdings?" Sokkia pointed out.

Leonhardt shrugged. "After all this, I probably gained my own title and holdings. I daresay we all have."

"Probably," Sokkia mused, also leaning over. "Honestly I've always been more an athlete than a soldier, but I've seen too much combat to even think about mockfighting in a knightmare," she considered for another moment. "Maybe I'll try my hand at ice-skating or something when I get back."

"I wouldn't mind that," Leonhardt smirked, already imagining his comrade in one of those short dresses and doing all sorts of flips and twirls on the ice.

Ignoring the sheer lecherousness, Sokkia turned to Tink. "What about you Tink? Got something in mind for after the war?"

Tink shrugged once more. "I've been a soldier for so long, I don't know if I could be anything else," he admitted. "Chances are I'll remain with Her Highness, wherever she chooses to go and whatever she chooses to do."

"Heh, wouldn't we all like to know," Leonhardt quipped, he and Sokkia both wearing the same expression. Though it was clear what their liege intended to do once she entered Moscow, it was the afterward that none could answer. Only now, at the near closing point, did the three truly wonder.

"Well, regardless," Sokkia stated as she again raised her glass. "Let's just stay focused on surviving, so that we can deal with it all after the end."

"Here here," Leonhardt and Tink both said this time, all three taking another long drink thereafter.


Peace Mark Charlemagne-class land battleship Euliya
State of Moskva, Eurasian Union

Exhaling through his nostrils lest he awaken the one beside him, Orpheus remained well awake and staring up into the darkness above. Though he was not anywhere near a viewport, he knew that the snowstorm outside was still raging in full force, and so there really was nothing for he or the rest of the Peace Mark to do in the present. Not that there had been for the last two weeks, in which the Euliya had spent the better part of time in hiding while Orpheus and his comrades awaited the next plan of action. Though, glancing over slightly to Miss X, who remained sound asleep and at complete ease, Orpheus could safely say that they had at least made themselves comfortable in the meantime. He and who knows who else within the Euliya's warm, sheltered hold.

It would not last much longer, he knew. His instincts, as well as his experiences, told him that the fighting would begin anew quickly enough. It was only a matter of where and when, and with what objectives in mind. No doubt Zero was mulling over those factors himself aboard the Izumo not too far away, or perhaps he had already come up with his next operation set and was merely biding his time. Either way, the war would resume soon enough, and through it, Orpheus Zevon would do battle with the imperialists as well as settle his myriad of personal accounts. Whether it be with his twin sister, her hellspawn of a princess or the evil empire they both hailed from. Only after that could he concentrate on the account that truly mattered, the very same that had cost him everything at one time. Only after that could he take the fight back to the Eildons and V.V., or whatever he called himself now, and avenge Euliya Zevon in full.

The mere thought caused Orpheus to sigh again, though once more he did it low enough that Miss X could retain her slumber. Since infancy he had been a soldier and a warrior, first under V.V.'s banner and then, after a very short interlude, under Peace Mark's. And he would have been a soldier and a warrior had his mother not chosen to cast him out, for the House of Zevon prided itself on raising soldiers and warriors. Most ironic since the brightest point in Orpheus' otherwise dark and dismal life had been those days of peace in Eastern Eurasia, well away from the Eildons, the Britannians and the rest with but the love of his life by his side. Sometimes he wondered if he would have still been there with Euliya had V.V. chosen to simply let them be. Sometimes he wondered if those days could be reclaimed once his line of vendettas was concluded.

The thought would have made him laugh had it not been for the care he felt for his bed partner. No, as much as he yearned for those days, he knew that they were gone forever. He had simply seen too much, done too much, to afford any kind of peace for himself now. Chances were very good he would either die fighting this war, or he would live long enough to do so in the next, or the next. For fighting was all he could do, and had done, since the beginning. Anything else was simply beyond him now, just as Euliya was.

Of course, Orpheus knew that wasn't entirely true, as the woman beside him – whose feelings for him he was well aware, despite her attempt to seem casual – emphasized. If he so wished, he very well could settle down with her after all the fighting was done; they could easily take a dwelling in Ryukyu and spend the rest of their days at the farthest end of the world, well away from all the chaos and turmoil. Miss X would certainly go for that, and the rest of the Euliya's crew would probably not be too far behind. And that was before one remembered the promised utopia Zero sought to deliver, where there would be no Second Great World War and there would be peace and harmony to go around. Could Orpheus possibly live in such a world with the others?

If nothing else, it would be an interesting experience, but ultimately Orpheus doubted he ever had the capacity. No, for him, there was only the present war and the vengeance he was to wrought upon his enemies. First Oldrin and Marrybell, then V.V. and his cohorts. One way or the other, they would all pay for their sins, both against him and against the world. One way or the other, he would finally lay Euliya to rest, even if there remained nothing else thereafter.

Again however, that was all for another day, one in which the field was clear and the battle was set to be joined. For the time being, there was only the darkness before him, and the one beside him. Those two things, alongside his lingering thoughts, which continued to sift through the aforementioned darkness. All as the storm outside only raged on.


Black Knights Camp Kunigami
Kunigami, Okinawa, Ryukyu Republic

"How much longer?" Rakshata demanded rather tersely, causing the engineer on the opposite side of the monitor to nearly jump. Though she was not one to usually give into impatience, the fact was they had been researching and attempting to replicate this particular acquisition since before Akikaze. Needless to say, Rakshata was not in the mood for further delays, now matter how much they still had yet to understand and record.

"Approximately eighty percent has been formulated. The remainder will be completed within three to five days," the engineer reported with only slight visible hesitance. "And though we have no way of testing it before it reaches the field, the simulations have given lucrative results."

Rakshata nodded to this, taking it for what it was. Though she would have preferred to have live tests, it was as the engineer said. There was simply no way to do that in Okinawa.

"Very well," Rakshata exclaimed as she retook her tobacco pipe, casually lighting it and taking a short smoke. "We'll send it over through Caer Sidi. Make the necessary preparations in the meantime."

"Yes ma'am," the engineer replied before saluting. The commlink terminated just after.

Taking another, somewhat longer smoke, Rakshata reached out and picked up the datapad that had not left her desk since the start. Even with the blueprints literally staring her in the face, there was so much of this technology, this weapon, that she knew very little about. And this was supposed to be one of the more "conventional" items they had obtained from Alexandra Land!

Well, no matter she supposed as she replaced the pad back down, taking yet another smoke in thought. If this was really Zero's next big plan, then so be it. The best she could do from her position was make sure it worked as it was intended. And if not that much, then at least not blow up and take a fair chunk of Eastern Eurasia with it.

"Remember Japan," the Indian scientist proclaimed as she exhaled a lungful of smoke to the open air. All as the schematic of the Geass Canceller Array remained active and apparent from the side, indicating much about Zero's next "miracle" to be had.