Chapter VIII

Descend upon Brazil


C's World, 2019, Previous timeline

"Already a fourth time I'm meeting her. For what reason is she so persistent?" Charles growled, not being quite able to dismiss a meeting like he'd do in mortal life. D.S. casually appeared from behind him, his senses immediately noticing her. "Charles, why did you go this way? What motivated you to pursue Ragnarok?"

He stood silent. D.S. knew the answer already, but she wanted to hear it coming from his lips. "Because humanity hides behind lies that forbid them from learning their true selves and true selves of other people. By destroying all existing borders, humanity would usher in the new era of prosperity and understanding!"

D.S. smirked; her disapproval evident in her posture. "General Clausewitz once wrote that 'Savage peoples are ruled by passion, civilized peoples by the mind. The difference, however, lies not in the respective natures of savagery and civilization, but in their attendant circumstances, institutions, and so forth' and that 'Even the most civilized of peoples,' in short, 'can be fired with passionate hatred for each other.'"

"In other words, it's not lies, 'civilized nations' or anything else that creates conflicts or causes bloodshed. It's our unwillingness to reason more peacefully or to listen to other's thoughts and beliefs."

He spread his arms, making an imposing figure for anybody not as immortal as D.S. "Wars are the worst instruments for achieving intended goals: they tend to do the job, but bring havoc, death, and even more lies. I know that. I share this thought. Ragnarok was meant to end them once and for all. What is the thing that you disagree with me the most?"

"You fell into tunnel vision. What your brother," she took a small pause, giving a time for the Charles to cringe a bit at his mention, "saw as an answer to your tragedy – killing God in whatever form it exists – you disregarded everything and everybody else. In short, you tried to make an ideal world for everyone, but failed to consider those 'everyone' in the equation."

Before he could ask for her answer to this dilemma, she spoke again. "I cannot force you to drop the Ragnarok. Too much will change, and probably the world will remain stagnant for another century in result of Butterfly effect. What we do wish of you – be more aware of people around you, be it your subordinates or your family. The family you care the most, yet failed to protect – vi Britannia's."

He looked at her in disbelief, his arms falling to his sides. "So…you're telling me…to be more open to others? Seriously?"

D.S. stiffed a laugh at it. "Remember that conversation with Lelouch at the Sword of Akasha? I think you do need to hear this advice."

Charles scowled. She turned her back on him, disappearing into thin nothingness. "You will see. I have other things to do, for now."


Peru-Britannia Border, Area 5 outskirts

5th of October, 1972

Colonel Wainwright stood in his command module, his firm hand reaching for the radio. He looked from module's wide window upon the terrain that will soon become a battlefield. At last, he could get his chance to get revenge for the decades of terrorism. "Commence the operation!"

Without a second's delay, his self-propelled artillery units started the barrage. First shell, flaming red and flying higher into the skies, signaled the beginning of the offensive. Armored columns of Moors and tanks providing fire support at once started their movement, artillery providing overwhelming barrage on the enemy entrenched positions, turning the cloudy skies into hellish orange and red. Locals in the nearby villages never saw such scale of destruction in a war, even starting to think that Apocalypse was upon them.

Britannia didn't have to wait long for enemy response. Union's hidden artillery positions begun firing upon Britannian vanguard, intending to break armored formation apart and to turn it into a killzone. Intense small arms fire broke out between the opposing sides. A few anti-tank rockets were fired by the Union's infantry, hitting hard the first armored Moor. The vehicle burst in flames, while the other Moors drove around it, continuing the assault.

Yet, the atmosphere in the command module of Peruvian front was calm. Wainwright observed the ongoing battle, humming to himself in thought.

"Relay to our artillery to focus on eliminating enemy artillery pieces. Our tanks can finish the job with the entrenchments."

Officers obeyed his instructions, keeping on the line with the unit commanders to coordinate a proper assault. "If we do everything right, maybe even the first wave could break the Unionists…" Wainwright thought to himself, before he got interrupted by one of his Sergeants.

"Kito's squad is taking hits! Their advance is slowed down by enemy fire!"

Colonel continued to stare at the battlefield. Britannia was definitely winning in artillery.

"Losses?"

"Two KIA, about six WIA. One Moor is damaged, nothing else as of now."

He zoomed in on the overall picture before him. "And the enemies?"

"Four artillery units, two hidden AA systems and three trenches. This amounts to about…"

"Forty to sixty enemies KIA or WIA," Wainwright concluded, turning to his other officer, "Contact me with air support, get me DeMay! I need those choppers to move faster! As for our vanguard – order them to dismount and to slowly advance further. Take one pillbox after another. When our flight units will arrive – the pressure will be alleviated."

By no means he was falling behind a schedule, but he needed to make an image of rushing things down.

"Understood!" Sergeant Wales on the other end of the line responded, before providing suppressive fire from his heavy MTG. His bullets had hit enemy machine gunner and brutally tore apart few riflemen. "Squad! Advance further! Take this fucking hill!"

His squad yelled their affirmatives, "One of you will distract them, while Gonza and Flesher will force them out with grenades! The rest of you – cover them!" True to his plan, one of his subordinates run away and proceeded to empty two of his mags at the enemies second machine gun nest, going as far as to hit one of the loaders. Unfortunately, he himself got shot in his shoulder, rendering him unable to fire further. Gonza run first, immediately throwing a grenade into an opening. Ensuing blast blew off the roof of Unionist's pillbox. Flesher run further and gunned down two enemy wounded combatants, who tried to flee.

"Good, now to the next one!" Sergeant yelled, hopping inside his Moor and ordering his subordinates to either do the same, or to simply jump on its walls until they arrive. "Flesher, with me! Gonza – drag the fuck away that wounded!"

In the following minutes, he and his squad launched a mechanized assault on another encampment, engaging in a brutal close quarter combat. His Moor dropped off his soldiers, them running afterwards towards the closest cover. Luckily, they spotted a friendly unit coming close on the enemy, with armored support. One tank shot at point-blank range, effectively knocking down entire post.

"All units – continue the assault!"

Flesher rushed behind his officer, making his way by jumping over cleared out enemy positions and over thrown away limbs and ammo from fallen soldiers. He was going to run to the next one, as his ears heard an all-familiar swirling sound from above. His officer heard the same, so he immediately yelled for them to duck to the ground.

He laid on the ground, which was covered in ashes, drenched in blood and incredibly muddy. Not even five seconds had passed, as the next three enemy trenches were brutally destroyed by a lone A-10 descending upon it, firing its main gun and dropping its heavy munitions. "Thank God we were this far, or we'd be among those unlucky bastards in there," Flesher smirked. Wales rose up, "Get up, we still have a shit ton more work to do."

"Yes, Sir!" He jumped from the dirt, rising his rifle back. Sergeant gave a signal, ordering his other squad members to take over the cleared-out positions.

Fight was continuing all over the front, both soldiers and officers dropping their futile attempts to count in- and outcoming artillery barrages. Britannia was carving its way through Union positions, yet the battle was still far from end. Britannia had many more men to throw to storm Union, and the latter had still a lot of land and men to spare in defence.

Wainwright looked over the battlefield out of his command post, sound of distant explosions quietly reaching him from the front. Officer from behind him continued to report their advances, losses and successful annihilation of enemy units. His army marched on, getting ground at snail's pace. He wasn't disturbed by this, though.

After all, the main breakthrough was never supposed to be on his front.


La Paz, Palace of Confederation

5th of October, 9 PM

"It seems, that the Peruvian front is stable…" Buchanan started, while looking at the generals before him. Military conferences were quite boring for him when they weren't reporting only the good news.

"…but it won't be so in a week or two. Britannians are slamming full weight against us." General Lei, one of Buchanan's trusted officers spoke, eying his 'colleagues' from newly-incorporated Rio Grande. Lei disliked his 'allies', deeming them to be too unreliable and disrespecting strong military organization too much for the Union's survival. "If only we could mobilize all parts of our nation to reinforce this front."

"Please, we both know it won't make much of a difference, if the command is too disorganized," General Kellan, Second-in-command of Rio Grande's Army spoke. He and his team weren't willing to let such offense slide. "If we send our men there, they'd get slaughtered by your incompetence."

"Because it was you, who wouldn't ever invest in the military, and look what it got us to!"

"At least our state won't collapse economically and can actually finance the war for more than three weeks!"

"Stop, or I will shoot all of you!" Buchanan yelled, forcing the room to silence. "If Britannians slam all of their forces against our defenses in Peru, then maybe we could outflank them?" He smiled, expecting his proposal to be met with applause, which did not come. Lei broke into sweat.

"Impossi-… I mean, we're too much stretched out as well, we can't launch such attack right now! We have no forces for this!"

Buchanan fell back into his throne, tapping his finger on one of its arms. "So what do you think we should do?"

"We can hold them for a few weeks in the Andes. That will give us the time to arm our forces with MANPADS and prepare a counter-offensive of our own"

Marcelle, the youngest officer on the Rio Grande's side, immediately rose. "MANPADS? Why weren't we even informed about you buying them? We should be supplied with them as well! We cannot be sure if this is a feint to lure our reserves from Amazonas!"

"As if you weren't supplying your own forces with black market stock as well!" Lei pointed out. Both sides weren't trusting each other too much to disclose their actual stockpiles and weapon's deliveries, causing officers on both sides to frown at their opponent's lies.

"Why you-!"

Buchanan slammed arm of his throne, trying to turn their attention to him. "I want Britannians dead! Our army is united right now, so I want our counterparts from Rio Grande to not hide information from us!" Not waiting for the reaction, he shifted his attention to his officers. "Now, to our offensive…"

While Buchanan decided to talk about how they could attack Britannians, his generals being too fearful to interrupt him, the Rio Grande officers turned their backs to the meeting to whisper between each other.

"You think we could trust them?"

Verbeek, the previous Commander-in-chief and de-facto a leader of Rio Grandes army, looked on the ground. "I don't think we can stand without them. At the same time, they're definitely using us and pressuring to do what they want."

"We're basically exchanging one tyranny for another!" Marcelle spoke, fury evident in his voice. "They will exploit our soldiers to defend them against Britannia, exhausting our resources, and they will simply annex us after the war is over!"

"I've heard there is an opposition to the war among some of the nobles in Britannia. You think we could use them to force Buchanan out of Rio Grande with their help?"

"This would bring us under somebody's heel one way or another. Too risky."

They grunted. They weren't planning on staying or even allying with Buchanan in the first place, but now they were under his command, and they did not like it. On the other hand, there wasn't much of a choice. Was there really a way out of this deadlock?

Unexpectedly, the doors swung open, a lone soldier rushing inside. "Your Majesty! We've lost all contact with our forces on the East Coast!"

"WHAT?! You mean Rio Grande is under attack!?" Marcelle and his group were shocked by this. "This means our entire economy is…"

"Your Majesty," Verbeek calmly rose up, turning everybody's attention to him, "we request you to send your forces in reserve. In a combined offensive we can crush Britannians!" Some from Buchanans officers were enraged by what they saw as backpedaling.

"Oh, so now you would acknowledge us? How pathetic! And you can call yourself-"

"We have a bigger threat to worry about. The mere existence of both of our forces is at stake! By crushing their assault from the Amazonas, we will make Britannians run-"

"They aren't attacking from the forest, General!" soldier interrupted, surprising him.

"So from where they are attacking?" he quirked his brow.

Another soldier enters the room, his uniform in disarray and one of his ears covered by a headphone.

"Britannian naval detachment is spotted on the coast of Rio Grande! Our naval units are under heavy bombardment!" He announces, council falling silent.

Buchanan shivers in his throne, despair coming over him. Verbeek realizes it faster, starting to give orders immediately. "Send the Sixth Army, have units from the Amazonas to retreat to major ports! We will crush them even if it means losing half of the territory over there." Buchanans officers glanced at their Caudillo, waiting for answer, who could only affirmatively nod.

"Your Majesty, please reconsider!" one general rises up to protest, "they won't make there in time, and this will weaken our northern border!"

"And if we don't, they will be encircled!" Marcelle jumped in to support Verbeek, "Do what His Majesty's says. This will be a catastrophe if we won't do something!"


Battleship Guinevere, International Waters,

5st of October

"Approaching Rio de Janeiro! City will be in range in three minutes" an officer proclaimed.

Charles nodded, the strategic map of South America covering up the desk before him entirely. He toyed with a red piece in his hands, locking his gaze upon it before placing it back on the printed area of Amazonas. Entire riverbank was covered with either blue or red pieces, in the meanwhile more and more red pieces were appearing in the south of the continent, primarily on the north of Rio Grande, Mesopotamia and Andes. Only a week ago, hostile activity over there was comprised mostly of untrained recruits in small numbers.

He had his loyal men, that would execute his orders the way he wished, and that made things much simpler.

"Your Highness, my men are preparing for landing" Otto Waldstein spoke through the radio to him.

"Enemy resistance must be light, their reserves are allocated to the North. Police units will arrive right after the vanguard of the landings will secure the targets you mentioned. Any unrest will be crushed in no time" Eric Smith told them. He was growing more and more loyal to the Prince. Charles didn't know what was the main drive behind his newfound loyalty, but he wouldn't want to ask him. The last time he did Eric spoke a quite lengthy patriotic speech

There also was Winston, his personal secretary who was becoming increasingly like his personal spymaster, and naval admiral Edward Hancock.

"You think those rebels are present here, Winston? The one that killed Major Lune?"

"My contacts say they're in the middle of getting more European weapons right now" Winston replied, stretching the folder with all the information his assets gathered in the South America to Charles.

Charles raised a brow while reading "One E.U. agent gave us this much trouble? This Reichard was wounded in battle, I doubt he was able to lead the group."

"He wasn't, but she-" he gave him a photograph of Jeanne to him, depicting a green-eyed woman with black hair. She was wearing civilian clothing, but slightly adapted to jungle terrain. "-did lead the group in his absence. We believe she was a former leader of this terrorist unit before Reichard Messer arrived in Buenos Aires from Toulon two years ago"

"They seem to be well-trained"

"They are. As per your orders, unit of late-Major Lune is recuperating. I've placed one man in charge there, I hope Your Highness approves of him."

"Ah, Beckwith." Charles relaxed, remembering a few positive opinions from the other timeline on one of the commanders in Pluto Unit. "I think he's a good choice. The strong must benefit from the things they're deserved to have. Let them rest, I will order them into battle later. But whom did you send now for those terrorists?"

"Terrorists have retreated to Union-controlled territory, most likely into the industrial area of Rio de Janeiro. I've sent Colonel Mickens unit to deal with them"

Mickens, huh… I remember that name, in the previous timeline I killed him in the end of Emblem of Blood. Now, is he the one I'm thinking about?

"Is he the one from the Rust Belt?" Charles asked.

"Yes"

"Is he sent here by somebody?"

"Duke of Tennessee is backing him" Winston caught Charles's drift. "You want me to eliminate him, Your Highness?"

"No, at least not for now" Mickens… Yet another lackey of the corrupt nobles. I can't tolerate them now, in my condition of mere prince. Should deal with him somehow. But even he should bring those rebels down. Charles mentally scoffed, his mask of indifference not cracking in the slightest. "He will be enough for the task. And the foreign aid for the Union?"

"Buchanan received none, as you predicted. Our army will take La Paz in a month, in three if E.U. consolidates faster."

"Good" Charles responded. Thinking about the entire issue of South America as solved, his mind returned to more important matter.

Marianne.

He went into his private office, falling into the chair. Tired, he reached for his glass of whiskey, taking a sip. Faster he could deal with his campaign, faster he could get some rest from these mundane affairs. He leveled his glass on eyes level, then pressing his palm against his jaw in contemplation.

It would be surprising for some, but Charles knew little about her life before meeting him. Marianne rarely told stories about where she spent her childhood and her relatives. Their relationship just…kicked off very quickly and Charles was interested only in her persona.

Ultimately, he had no need to worry over her memories or even a chance of her never meeting him. It wouldn't matter much whether Marianne is influenced by butterfly effect or not – he'd still try to speak with her when he meets her. What he could do – influence the events in such matter that would help him and his wife. That meant dealing with the court snakes, most of which he remembered from the previous life and others being too insignificant. Charles loved his parents, and seeing their deaths for the second time made his blood boil. He did not share their ideals or their visions, but justice for their deaths he will deliver personally to their assassins

Duke Alexander and his lover, who happened to be Charless aunt, were walking on a razor blade for trying to sabotage Charles, yet a part of him wanted to leave others to be dealt with by Marianne, satisfying her bloodlust. Oh, he could already imagine the sinister smile she'd have at hearing such news!

Charles grinned, emptying his glass in one move. He is a time traveler with tons of experience in handling both wars and plots. He had control of both luck and knowledge, giving him an extreme edge over others in addition to his Geass. And he was absolutely willing to take victory whenever he was able to.


With Reichard

Reichard woke up, his headache rising with every second. His eyes still ached at contact with bright light, causing him to close his eyes immediately. He caught sound of TV playing in the background. He saw a chair by his bed, a familiar silhouette sitting on it. As soon as Reichard caught gaze of her green eyes, locked on his, he recognized Jeanne.

"Hey, you woke up. Are you well?"

"Maybe…what, have Brits caught up to us?" He tried to joke, rising slowly from his bed. Sudden surge of pain in his head caused him to stop mid-way, and his head started to spin. TV spoke quietly in the background.

Jeanne pressed him back with her left hand. His eyes still did not adapt to the light, he could see something in her right hand pointing at the ground. "No, we got away, they are too far from us. They would not target us first, we're in the warehouses as of now. You're have a concussion; it will go away in a day or two."

For some reason, he felt that there was more to it than simply care for his well-being. Reichard looked at Jeanne, his eyes catching wariness and caution on her face. She raised her right hand, pressing something to his chest. From such close distance he easily recognized standard-issue Britannian 9mm pistol that she stole off some poor Brit a few months ago.

"You're a spy", her voice stated, not asking.

"Um…" he tried to weasel off her question, but she cut him off, her firearm pressing against his bandages.

"Reichard." Jeanne glared at him furiously. She felt angry and betrayed at this sudden revelation. Her hands were starting to shake, her aim still pointed at his vitals. "We're rebels, we do not keep such secrets from each other. Were your orders to use us? To destroy Britannia and to throw us away afterwards?"

"No" Reichard tried to continue his reply, but couldn't. He looked at the ceiling, contemplating his answer, that he couldn't formulate. "No, I… Hell, my orders have changed a lot of times, but never did I ever wish to sell you out."

She didn't feel satisfied with the answer. "Not the thing I wish to hear."

"I never had any relatives or connection to this place, so when I first learned that I was assigned to go and help the local resistance in Area 5, I was shocked. Some part of me even wished to drop the entire matter completely, but I obeyed the order I was given."

She continued to listen, her curiosity fighting with caution. Her gun was still at the ready if the answer wasn't satisfiable. "So, you joined us, quickly rose to being one of the senior members, and all of that to change Britannian occupation for European? Why should I believe you?"

"I joined you, yet it was your decision to replace your fallen comrade with me. I grew to have this feeling. Once my help was motivated out of my duty as an E.U. operative, now it is genuine. My little wish is to live up to the day when we win. I have never told you that I'm a spy, because who'd then trust me afterwards?"

She lowered her pistol. Jeanne couldn't really grow to despise Reichard for hiding this, a rational part of her supporting what he said. Also, she saw how pitiful his condition was, effect of the drugs on him not wearing off for the next few hours.

"I trust you. Rest now."

"Rest… Yes. Rest." Reichard murmured. When Jeanne rose from her chair and was on course to leave his room, he spoke up again, raising his voice for her to hear. "Life is short, isn't it?"

"Absolutely, but I don't understand-"

"Would you like to go out with me?" He said, not a hint of joke in his tone. Jeanne was stunned at this.

"Go…out? Why?"

"Why not? I don't see an issue with it. Dating would help us unwind"

Maybe he was still under drugs, she thought. Ron was the one to treat his wounds, while she observed it from time to time. Truth be told, Jeanne wasn't against the idea, even sometimes dreaming to ask him about it one day, but never did she entertain the idea much, thinking he'd shoot it down at the spot. There was a difference on how she viewed him to be and to what he was saying now.

"Now-now, that must be the effect of drugs. I don't want to exploit that. You'll find somebody better, but you won't if you don't rest now." She handed him the TV-remote, marching out of the room before he could say a word to her back. She was on the verge of running, burning from embarrassment.

"Huh. She must've been against it" Reichard fell back into his bed. Maybe there was something on the TV. He pressed the button to increase volume on it.

"-As of now, streets of Paris are all covered in an innocent yellow smoke cloud, mixed with burning tires and clouds of tear gas." Reichard rose up slightly, his face confused at the news he was hearing. Paris? TV continued to broadcast a picture of increasingly aggressive clashes of protesters on Champs-Elysées with the police units, making it look similar to the burnt land after a heavy combat. "It's a work of hundreds of thousands of protestors, which filled the streets after Prince Charles's announcement. Coordinated anti-war protest movement had spread their actions to capitals of the biggest republics in the E.U., their demands increasing over time, covering in fires such cities as Brussels, Berlin and Rome, with minor protests in Warsaw and Athens. Their main one remains unchanged – to stop funding resistance movements in South America, as well as stopping any support for the ongoing war, deeming them to be 'terrorists, drug gangs', and going as far as to stop any encroachments on 'Britannia's Sphere of Influence'.

Camera showed a President Pierre Chamberval with his cabinet on a meeting with protest leaders, negotiating a deal. Unsurprisingly, most of the people in his cabinet, who are in support of policies protesters are trying to revoke, are not present at the discussion, making it obvious what will be the resulting deal. "Protesters believe that warhawks in the government should be kicked out. And, it seems, that the President of the E.U. isn't that far from reaching the settlement with the movement. The following settlement will be enforced on every state member of the-"

'It was only starting to get better before that bastard came here-' Reichard was fuming, hiding his head under the pillow, tempting to punch the walls around him. He later threw it away, looking at his trusted rifle by the wall opposite of him. "It seems, that E.U. has truly fallen."

Reichard looked at the doors for another minute, as if she still was here. He fell into his bed, wondering what would he really choose: his Fatherland or his comrades.


Somewhere in Peru

It seemed like a miracle: getting yourself out of slaughter fields alive and even encountering sympathizers for your cause. Simon was shocked that his wounds were healing this fast even as they used stolen Britannian medical supplies. When he left his friends, who hid him for the last two weeks, he felt as if he was even more strong than before. He thanked them, before departing south, where he expected to join defensive force against Britannia.

Simon had found a motorcycle lying around, and decided to use it to get to Union faster. He enjoyed the feeling of fresh winds brushing past him, as he sped through the land.

He stopped by a cliff, taking off his goggles. From afar, he could spot artillery and tank duels happening between Britannians and Union forces. Fighting was bloody, and he could see it by the number of planes carrying out air support mission.

Simon glanced at his wrists, still bandaged after suffering third-degree burns. They and a few other parts of the body still ached after a lost battle, but he was ready. He then looked in the mirror, part of his trusted rifle visible hanging on his back.

They lost the battle, but did they lose the war? He's not that weak to not join a fight when needed. His mind wandered to those he had lost and those whom he was sure about. Reichard… Jeanne…their fates he never knew for certain, hoping they survived somehow, but had low hopes of. Those, whom he saw perishing with his own eyes, especially Pablo and others that died in the trench where he was…

Simon would never betray their memories, their will and resolve. Only let them to get him to fight until the end. He was filled with hatred. With vengeance. With motivation. And, most importantly, with enough skills to give 'em hell on Earth.

And, just like it, he decided for himself that he will fight once again against Britannia.


Amazonas, Area 5 Borderlands

"Master V.V., the test subject is here." A regally-clothed young cult leader was approached by a relatively tall hooded figure. He dropped a bag which on the first glance was a simple cod with some potatoes, but upon closer look was a knocked-out teenager, slowly breathing.

"Good. Who is he?"

"Olan Maquis, 17 y.o. local villager. Has repeatedly engaged in resistance activities, full orphan. Simple nobody, and his missing wouldn't be too suspicious."

"Nobody will search for him, correct?" V.V. glanced at his other subordinate. He threw away the bag, revealing the teenager. Before Olan could open his eyes, he crunched in pain as one of the hooded figures delivered a heavy kick to his abdomen, while another took him by his tied hands and dragged to a pole. After fixating him on the pole, V.V. approached the seemingly older teenager, who was cursing nonstop and trying to break free, even despite the pain he suffered at the previous treatment. "Experiment 23. Start." A large man then fell silent, standing at the ready, while other 'scientists', as they called themselves, were taking notes.

V.V. rose his hand to touch boy's forehead, his Geass mark on his body beginning to glow red.

"Contact," he pressed his palm, opening a connection with the teenager. Scientists were observing the silent conversation their Master had with the subject. When V.V. removed his hand, he reached for his gun immediately. The teenager's eyes flickered with Geass he got from V.V. The boy was too stunned to react. He wasn't able to do anything before V.V. fired three rounds into his head.

"Contract is no longer active. I still can speak with his soul, though" V.V. massaged his head, being still a novice in telepathic connection.

V.V. reached out to the gates, disappearing for a few minutes. Just as he disappeared into thin air, he reappeared.

"Connection with him did not change because of his death. As expected, his Geass of Absolute Silence did not work after his physical death. Speaking with him is possible only inside C's World."

Scientists nodded and continued to note. "We still to establish whether it is possible to speak with people, who are alive from the C's World."

V.V. signed, reloading his pistol. "I know. Now, bring me another subject"


Rebel base, Rio de Janeiro,

5th of October, 1972

It was deep in the night, but lights inside the base never went off. Even now, many rebel soldiers kept on working.

Ever since they ran away from the pursuit of Britannian rangers, they focused on recuperating their losses. In the last skirmish with Britannian special operatives, they had lost about 60% of their forces, leaving Jeanne stunned to see how much they dwindled in size from the last month.

She was extremely tired. She dumped a lot of preparations on her deputies, leaving the rest of the night free. Nobody did really challenge her, either because they had a lot of respect for her and understood what she was dealing with, or were too focused on their own tasks.

And there was Reichard, whom she couldn't get out of her head.

Jeanne decided to get a bit of fresh air. She sat outside of her teams quarters, looking at their armory. A lot was on her mind, most of her thoughts still wandering to that E.U. agent.

"Just who exactly is he? He is a good rebel leader, and he is a European operative. Which of his identities are really true?" She hoped that the first one was closer to the truth. Her wary side was telling to distance herself from him and to monitor constantly. But her gut feeling was not telling her about any danger from him. Was he that good that he could subtly manipulate her? She didn't know

Maybe, she caught some feelings for him? Only one such thought caused her cheeks to turn red. "No, we-we two are only close associates. What he had said was simply a joke… no, a side-effect from drugs, yes!" Her heart was of a different opinion, causing her a lot of headache, wondering whether she should've rejected him. He was strong, smart, clever and reliable. Also he wasn't ugly by any metric, he had some looks going for him. Only thing that stood between her and agreeing to his proposal was a sense of duty for people of Area 5 and uncertainty. Was it too fast for them to advance this much? They wouldn't be the same if something went bad in the relationship, possibly even dividing the group. Was it a right choice for her to reject him?

"But what if he chooses to leave us? Leave me?" She felt as if her blood pressure was rising too much. "He never said something against the E.U., so maybe his loyalty and duty would snatch him away?"

Jeanne felt furious, yet unable to decide what she'd really do to him if he did so. Kill him? Absolutely not! Leave with him?

"No, I won't abandon my people!"

"But if he will leave, wouldn't it be good to remain with him?"

"Ye- wait, no!"

Her inner debate continuing in her head, her eyes caught a flicker of light high in the sky. "A signal rocket? Who'd even launch it?" She murmured, before her eyes went wide, realization forming in her mind. Jeanne turned away, making her way back to the base.

While she was away, her men were in the middle of repairs for their guns, some of them being too damaged to properly operate, when an unknown truck had rolled to them.

"Who the hell are they? Ron, do you know them?" one of them exclaimed.

"Relax, these are one of ours," a brown-haired young lad rose up. He is a former soldier from Area 3, who flocked to the rebels for killing his officer.

Many in the group knew that Jeanne saw him as a good candidate to replace Old Spaniard. He was lost in battle, and getting him out of prison was impossible, if he wasn't killed at all. Many promising officers died or were captured that day, so they went along with getting Ron and some of the young blood to rise within their ranks.

Ron gestured to the driver to stop near the warehouse. "Over there, I'll send a few volunteers to drag out equipment."

"Do you know what that is?" mechanic asked a man on his right. "Too bulky to be a transport for all of us. Doesn't seem to have some large cargo either."

"Oh, you don't know? These are European MANPADS, the last delivery from the batch. Seems like some of 'em got head on their shoulders. They saw how annoying Brit's choppers are, so with such toys we will open hunting season on Brit's pilots."

"But I thought that they stopped help for us"

"Officially yes. They aren't that united, it seems. Still got to be careful, though, one word about 'em and we won't get more. If not by words, Brits will simply sink any other deliveries."

Their discussion was interrupted by one of them. "Hey, is that a signal rocket?"


With Reichard

It was deep in the night when Reichard woke up. His wounds were healing, and some doctors that were sent by Ron told him that his bandages could be removed in two or three days at max. He glanced at the clock above his weapon stand, confirming to himself that it was still too early to have woken up.

Something was going on outside, wind flowing only stronger and stronger into his open window. He turned his head to the window, opening the curtain with his hand, being

He slowly rose up, not taking away his legs off his bed. It was eerily quiet outside – bad sign. Checking up if he can really move too much, he stretched his arms, legs and torso. Reichard took off his bandages, and found his wounds to be pretty much healed by this point.

"Doesn't seem like specops raid," he mused, getting up on his legs, slowly dressing up into his usual outfit. "Maybe it's a helicopter, but at this time?"

He reached for his rifle, checked her ammo and holstered his pistol.

Immediately, the sky turned yellow under explosions happening all over the city.

Britannian Airforce came into the play, and they surely had some backup.

On instinct, Reichard hid under the table, which protected him from sharp glass shards from a destroyed window flying his way. When he got to check the situation yet again, he found the city to be on full alert, stationary AA trying to hit assailants, failing and sometimes even getting destroyed themselves in the process.

"Why am I always in the middle of everything?" He cursed to himself.

Now was the time to leave.


With Charles

"Your Highness, Air Force reports that the first wave was more than successful."

He was comfortably reading some old English poetry in his throne, taking note of their writing styles and wordings they used, when the operation started. Last time he spent too much learning about concepts that would help the Ragnarok Connection to be successful. One of the upsides of him being young again with his memories intact was knowledge of everything he read in the previous timeline, so he decided to unwind a bit by reading worthy pieces from the past. And Lelouch did like to read some books, unsurprisingly ones that have main character fighting against his father or his stand-in, or ones centered around vengeance, like Hamlet and Count Monte Cristo.

Charles didn't particularly want to observe his plan in execution, trusting his subordinates not to fail. Still, he had to maintain a presence before his army and officers, so he placed away Hamlet. It will have to wait.

"It has started. Good. Contact landing forces – order them to commence amphibious assault"

He overlooked the council, his officers moving the figures of his forces and known enemy positions, previously found by OSI, on the semi-digital map of Rio de Janeiro. Britannia was certainly moving to the future in the means of technology, but comfortable to use IFF signals will be around only a few decades later, making Charles feel somewhat old.

A group of Phantoms flew by his ship, going full speed to the North.

"Second wave of our planes are already on the way. They will bomb coastal fortifications and road junctions. Will get to the city in 120 seconds."

"Sir!" comms officers called out, "Phantoms report that port sector is undefended! Defense units inside the city are too stunned to react in time. First strike had successfully hit their signal posts and warehouses, defending Numbers are in chaos right now!"

Charles was satisfied by this. He couldn't give the defenders time to rest, and his vanguard could occupy the city by themselves quite easily if they took no pauses, exploiting the havoc their air force created. Taking Rio de Janeiro was a major strategic victory, taking the largest supply hub in the East Coast of the Union and a regional capital of former Rio Grande Republic gave his army a chance to collapse the entire defensive structure of the Union armies.

This was not his masterpiece – Charles got a lot of victories bigger than this in the original timeline, but this victory would get him clout and recognition he currently lacked, as his enemies swirled around him like vultures. On the other hand – he had to lay off his books for such an easy battle!

"Order our vessels to concentrate on capturing vessels inside the port. It seems that we won't have to bombard the city from the sea."


With Jeanne

"Britannians caught up too quickly. FUCK!" she cursed to herself, running back to her group's base. They had to move out now!

Jeanne passed street by street, getting closer to her comrades. She turned her head around to take a look at the situation. Britannia turned entire city into a massive campfire, sporadic smoke coming out here and there.

A loud engine sound appeared behind her. She ducked, trying to get out of their sight. An officer left the vehicle, guarded by about a dozen Britannian soldiers. Jeanne couldn't make the words out of their debate, but they seemed to argue about something. At one point she even caught an officer glancing in her base's direction, a smile forming on his face. How did they knew where they were? Jeanne prayed that her men were aware of the situation at hand and were prepared, if she couldn't stop Britannians.

'I will take as many as I could if they move, damn everything to hell!' she unholstered her pistol, ready to slow them down in any way possible. Yet, she stopped herself from initiating the shooting, deciding to listen in to what they were speaking, seeing somebody similar to a commander verbally sparring with his subordinate.

As she listened, she was certain that there was some conflict in the Britannian group over what they were to do next.

"…But Sir, His Highness ordered us to recon that district for the main element-"

"Do you really want to go scout the places those Number monkeys live?" Mickens pointed his service firearm at the soldier. The latter backed down after a few seconds of standstill. "Hah! As expected from a Fourth! There's nothing there aside from slums, those Rio Grandees live in shit! Britannians are allowed to plunder, and I do want to get their leaders to give me everything they have! Have I not made myself clear?"

Her worries quickly dissipated as officer spat on the ground, slapped his opponent and forced his unit to Santa Cruz, leading them away from rebel base. Relieved, Jeanne continued to sprint back.

She rushed to her group's base, meeting one of the patrols. They lowered their rifles after recognizing her.

"How's Reichard?"

"He's guiding some of our boys to leave. Seems fine and healthy."

Jeanne sighed. At least they weren't leaderless for the time being. Right now, the group could not remain in the city any longer, they had to move, leaving a few men in rearguard to protect the others. An idea popped in her head.

Sprinting with the rest of that patrol back to the base, she was glad to see Reichard helping the rest of their men to pack up and leave. His frowned expression lightens up slightly when his eyes rested on her.

"Glad you're alive, Jeanne. I took the liberty to command our boys in your absence. We cannot stay in Rio any longer. I would leave a few of our men to protect the rest while the majority leaves"

"Yes. Good thinking." Jeanne felt a wave of relief. But there was one question she wanted to solve.

"How much explosives do we have right now that we can use?"

Reichard quirked a brow, "About 50-60 kilos of Semtex. But Jeanne, if you want to blow up Britannian military, that won't be enough-"

"I have a different target. Reichard, you will lead the column, I'll distract Britannians" Reichard was about to protest, when she leaned to him. "Trust me, I won't be in danger, but I need to stay. I will get in contact with you later, after I will give them a hell of a distraction from you."

Reichard let a sigh. "You won't back down, am I correct?" Seeing her nod, he gave her a key. "This is from our explosives stash. Take as much as you need. How will we know whether you're succeeded?"

"You will know" she replied with a sinister smile.


Rio de Janeiro, Imperial Palace

9th of October, 1972

A call was announced throughout the newly-conquered region that Prince Charles was gathering a celebration for his major victory on the continent. Many from the Area 5's nobility that wanted to get his favor, flew to the city on their private jets, but most of the guests were either collaborators from the local nobility or a few officers from Charles's army. One couple in particular was making its way inside the palace through the crowds of all sorts of nobility.

"Matthew, do you know who most of these people are?" Anna asked her husband, as they were passing the first bunch of soldiers. "This gathering looks like a jar filled with snakes, really."

"I know quite a few, neither are really pleasant to be around. I was disappointed when I heard Breisgau's weren't coming. The only decent people that are here maybe are the prince and his lieutenants" Breisgau's recently had a son, so that wasn't surprising that they decided to stay in Area 2. Anne fell in thought, trying to remember any mentions of Charles.

"Haven't heard much about this prince. Is he influential?"

"He wasn't, but now he definitely is. The boy sure is getting popular among the soldiers, my buyers now speak about him more than about the guns they're buying."

"Oh, so a rising star then? He should be interesting to learn about."

"But remember – getting into all these petty squabbles that royals have is unhealthy. Simply observing would be good for-" Matthew interrupted himself, when he saw a small commotion at the doors.

"Such a beautiful lady visiting such an event and unmarried? I am sure you will like if we went somewhere with fewer people after the speech." One man said, clearly trying to flirt with some woman. Matthew wasn't sure with whom, though, since that man saw her as not a hard target.

"No, I think I wouldn't."

Matthew looked closer, trying to identify who is speaking. The man was in his early thirties, his clothing indicating his noble ancestry. He was speaking way too freely, so he should be from one of the already established Britannian families from the other Areas. He was not familiar with somebody denying his requests, since he was stunned at her reply.

"What? Come on, do you not know who I am? You will like it!"

"And who are you? A noble? Hah, half of the people here are at least of your position, go find somebody else, I'm busy."

He squinted his eyes. Matthew couldn't tell much about the girl from her appearance. Her black hair was common among the locals and Britannians alike, only her green eyes filled with disdain for the noble before her were of any indication of her difference. Her clothes were plain and not very bright, indicating of her not being a part of noble family or her being some kind of soldier. Definitely not an OSI agent, Matthew heard enough stories about their subtlety to believe they would hide better than this.

"Why you-! I will teach you manners, you peasant slut!"

"Try it, playboy"

Anna was already reaching out to help the girl, but she was bested by another woman seemingly out of nowhere appearing between the two, only indication of her even coming up from somewhere was a cloud of green hair being before her eyes a second ago.

"She's with me. You can discuss anything you want with her later and not on this event. Or do you really want to anger Prince Charles by starting a fight with a woman during his speech?"

Noble grunted, but retreated. "If you were here for His Highness, you could've just told it! I wasted my time on this bitch! Go away!"

Girl leaned to her unexpected green-haired helper, whispering to her. "Thanks, though it was unnecessary, I could've just-"

"I know, I also could beat him up, but this would get us a lot of attention. I don't want to be recognized, and I doubt you want the same." Green-haired woman spoke, with a smirk on her face. Girl's eyes went wide at this.

"What do you mean? I don't think we're on the same page."

"I don't want to discuss it here." Green haired woman went away, making her way through the crowds out of the palace. Girl clenched her fist, reaching out to hidden blade in her jacket. She didn't trust her savior, but she had no option than to follow her.

"That…was strange. Don't you think so, Anna?" Matthew asked his wife, oblivious to what the two of those women were discussing.

"Uh, let's go inside. I'm don't like this."

While the crowds were gathering inside the palace, the two women continued to move faster and faster away from them. Black haired woman was visibly older than her counterpart, yet she felt otherwise. Her savior was absolutely older, decades of more experience showing in her conspirators moves. She wanted to speak to her, but was interrupted.

"You could've worn something black and nice not to be suspected, but dropping a few 'presents' required a more flexible clothing, am I correct, Jeanne?"

Jeanne felt stunned, immediately reaching for her blade. How did she know? She shouldn't be working for Britannia, otherwise she'd sold her out immediately. Yet, she knew who she is and should be dealt with.

"I know what you're doing, but I am currently on your side, believe it or not. Though your plan is not as good as you believe, I will not interrupt you executing it."

"You look European. Are you working for them?"

"I am working for myself. I want to punish that little royal bastard a bit, so don't worry about your planted bombs – there will be a lot of valuable Britannian casualties."

"That doesn't answer anything." Jeanne pressed her blade against woman's back, even while feeling it wouldn't be a real danger to her. "Could you tell me your name at least?"

"That's quite direct. I don't remember many people who dared threatening me and speaking in this way for quite a while, and trust me – I knew a lot of people."

"Your name. Now!" Green haired woman sighed, her head turned away from Jeanne.

"You may call me C.C."

In the palace, the crier finally announced the man crowd was waiting for, before opening the doors for him.

"Presenting, His Highness Charles zi Britannia!"

Making his way to the stairs, from which he intended to speak, he searched the room for his allies. And there they were, standing near the flight of the stairs, a little bit away from the crowded hall.

"On the Fifth of October, we secured a victory that never expected. When I arrived into Area 5 back in early August, many vultures and traitors expected me to fail. To crumble to childish terrorism. And I defeated them. Now, Area 5 is firmly Britannian."

The hall was listening carefully, waiting for him to announce new position in the colonial government and to get more of concessions from him after the speech. They were in for a disappointment, since Charles was aware of how court worked and was feeling himself comfortable even when dealing with the worst of them.

"Union is a divided state, eager to fight itself over the simplest matters. Confederacion on the West, and Rio Grande in the East, they never will be victorious. Our core strength of Britannia is unity and willingness to fight under one leader against every foe we face!"

"Unity, huh. One man once said 'A house divided cannot stand'. Maybe His Highness is more correct than I think." Eric was listening closely, finding himself losing most of his disdain he had in the beginning against Charles.

"With the grand city of Rio conquered by us, one part of their state has fallen. Now, the entire region from the Parana River to the Atlantic Ocean belongs to Britannia once and for all! Crumbling under their infighting and under our superior strategy, Union is falling more and more to the South, with no hope in sight. So today, I celebrate reaching a milestone on the path to our inevitable victory."

"To Victory! To His Highness who gave it to us!" Otto Waldstein raised his glass of champagne, many mimicking his move.

"To His Highness! To Britannia!" Eric raised his glass as well, only Winston remained silent, his eyes running around the hall, as if he was looking or waiting for something.

On the outside, C.C. stopped, turning around to see the Palace, Jeanne catching her drift.

"Tell me again, why do you help me? You're not a Number, and certainly not discriminated by Britannia."

"Because," C.C. glanced at the lone officer near them, that was looking at them for a long time, "he was the one that took something important away from me."

"…I see. Sorry for your loss."

"Never mind. Now, you see that officer? He seems to have something to do with you."

Jeanne turned around, meeting eyes that she hoped not to meet today. A man who almost killed Reichard once. She saw his parade uniform of a Ranger with his surname written on it.

Beckwith.

He also recognized her, immediately jumping in to arrest her, before falling to the ground in agony after C.C. caught his arm. Jeanne looked stunned at this, silently asking her now-twice savior 'What was that?' Instead of answering, C.C. dragged her out of her surprise, pressing into her arms a small stick with a button on it.

"You came here to watch or to blow something up? They will see that we're here and what happened to him. Blow it up and run away!"

"Ye-yes, will do! Thank you… for everything"

C.C. smirked, before disappearing into the dense city jungle. Jeanne didn't care where C.C. went, but was certain – her newfound friend would definitely be safe.

Jeanne turned around to look at the palace for the last time, before pressing the button. Shockwave immediately caused windows to break and a portion of the roof crumbled under the explosion, falling on the hall. Nearby soldiers and policemen jumped in to rescue the survivors, primarily Charles himself. Dust from the explosion and lights filled the palace, rescuers trying to save as many as they could. Only a few people that were inside could stand and walk without any help.

In the midst of chaos, nobody spotted a young black-haired girl running away from the scene, her face decorated by the most sinister smile that man would never forget seeing…


AN: Is it really a cliffhanger?

This chapter was in writing for the last two months, and I had to split it in two different chapters, since this one is, unsurprisingly, the largest one yet at 9627 words. The next update will likely be in early October.