"Never be in a hurry; do everything quietly and in a calm spirit. Do not lose your inner peace for anything whatsoever, even if your whole world seems upset."
- Saint Frances de Sales

Chapter LIII: Mir

Imperial Army Headquarters Perm
Perm, Volga, Britannian Empire
December 5, 2080 ATB

It was well early in the morning, and by all facts and logic, Marrybell should still have rested in bed. God only knew how much she'd hear from Oldrin later over it, but for the time being, the princess was just too restless to sleep or even remain in her suite, and so she was where she was now. Alone in her office, the familiar chessboard in front of her with the white and black pieces spread about. Only select movements were made in her invisible game as she plotted and replotted the upcoming assault on Moscow and the two players she would face simultaneously. The offensive and defensive capabilities of both the Black Knights and the Eurasians, the possible attacks and maneuvers that could be made before and after breaching the city, and even the probable "miracles" that Zero could employ were all conceived and applied to the board, with each movement of the pieces symbolizing an effect it would have on the battle. Chances were only more would be added as time went on, especially as the day of the assault drew closer, but for now, Marrybell could at least mitigate some of the pressure…

A frown crossed the princess' expression as she felt she was no longer alone. Sure enough, a newcomer had just entered her domain, bypassing the door but remaining in the shadows ahead. Marrybell hated when her associate did that, more than once wishing the intruder would come out into the open straightaway, but then it did have a long-standing flair for drama. "So what do I owe the pleasure this time around? Come to congratulate me for being the first Britannian to cross the Volga?"

"A most notable accomplishment," the intruder responded as it finally entered into view, gazing toward Marrybell with approval, yet with something more unreadable underneath. "Though I would wager that, had your opponent not ended the battle, it would have been a far more costly outcome."

Marrybell shrugged at the insinuation. "It may very well have, but that's of little consequence now," she exclaimed as she moved her white king forward one square. "And even then, that's not what you've come for."

The other grinned slightly in response. "It's still not too late," it offered softly. "Reconsider."

Marrybell sniffed at the offering. "There is nothing for me to reconsider, for that is one river I have long crossed over," she responded almost derisively. "And the die long cast."

The intruder came directly before the desk as though to observe the princess more closely. "You know you will be defeated."

Again, Marrybell sniffed at the thought. "You may try," she answered with subdued defiance. "Though that in itself is of little consequence. Whether by my hand or another's, it will all come to pass regardless. It's only a matter of when and, perhaps, how."

She then glared deeply into the intruder's eyes. "As I'm sure you realize."

"I do, yes," the intruder admitted. "And yet, while we may have similar means, there remains a stark difference between the ends."

"Ah yes, humanity's supposed salvation," Marrybell responded blandly. "I don't know how you intend to accomplish that, considering the means you will employ, but surely you must understand that eventually, it will all return to where we are now," she stated with complete knowledge. "So why bother going through the repetition?"

Rather than answer that immediately, the intruder reached out and took hold of the white king chess piece, observing it almost reverently. "History is much like an endless waltz," the intruder quoted from somewhere. "The three beats of war, peace, and revolution continue on forever."

The white piece was then replaced on the board, though on a different space. "I am merely adhering to that principle, albeit on a much grander scale."

Marrybell's responding grin was quite sly. "And that is what you fail to understand: no waltz is endless," she assuredly stated. "Nothing, no matter how prolonged, is forever."

Exhaling a rather exasperated sigh, the intruder understood the message. It seemed that the gulf would indeed remain between them.

"Our game is set then," it proclaimed, seeing there would be no swaying the princess's position. "Assuming you can win this one."

The princess said nothing to this, knowing there was nothing to say. As much as she wanted to proclaim to the one before her that she would win, and as determined as she was to win outright, even she was not foolish enough to claim an assured victory to the one before her. Only when her enemies were firmly vanquished could she do just that.

The intruder receded into the darkness with no more words to exchange and promptly vanished. Once more alone in her current domain, Marrybell reached out and picked up the white king chess piece, much as her guest had done before. To which, as disgust crossed her expression, she promptly flung to the other side of the room.

Black Knights mobile battleship Izumo
State of Moskva, Eurasian Union

"Are you feeling better?"

The question seemed to hang in the air as Lelouch considered his answer, or at least tried to come up with something that didn't sound like a gross understatement. Indeed, he was feeling better for rather obvious reasons. After all, he and Kallen had only spent the better part of the night doing what they did best together and settled down to Lelouch's bed only when the physical exhaustion set in. Between the shower at the very start and lying in the dark as they were at present, Kallen in her usual position against his shoulder while their arms held each other close, Lelouch felt renewed. As though the last ten days had never occurred.

"For the most part," Lelouch finally answered, a small smirk crossing his lips as he added. "Though my cheek still hurts."

That elicited a light giggle on Kallen's part. "Well, you did warrant it," she said before leaning up to kiss the spot her fist had landed, feeling Lelouch tense up slightly from that small contact, only to gradually relax that much more. "Better now?"

Now, it was Lelouch's turn to elicit a light chuckle. "Better now," he answered as he drew her closer to himself, Kallen following along contently. A comfortable silence between them allowed the lovers to bask further in the afterglow, remaining as far from the world outside as they could be.

Several more minutes passed before Kallen spoke again. "Tell me the truth, were you really going to give this up?" she inquired, her tone speaking volumes of belief.

Lelouch espoused a sigh before answering. "It's not like I wanted to," he admitted, a tinge of regret now entering his voice at the very thought. "And even then, I'm a fool, as you concurred."

"Yes, but I didn't say that was a bad thing," Kallen responded, quietly running her fingers soothingly across his chest. "After all, it was by that very foolishness that this all came to be. Up to and including my falling for you."

"Really?" Lelouch questioned, unable to keep down his curiosity.

Kallen nodded, now daring to run her finger along the scar over his left Geass-empowered eye. Once more, she felt her love stiffen from the contact and then gradually ease to her touch. In turn causing a warm, appreciative smile to emerge over the Red Dragoness' lips.

"If I remember the story correctly, you and Rivalz were on your way back to Ashford after beating another noble in a chess match," Kallen openly recalled, unable to contain her amusement toward the said story. "When you saw the tractor-trailer that Nagata and I confiscated from the Britannians…"

"Ah yes," Lelouch espoused, recalling that fateful event. "In my defense, I didn't know you were terrorists that had just hijacked a 'bioweapon' until after the fact."

"Yes, but you were still foolish enough to approach when everyone else was standing back and gawking," Kallen retorted with another mirthful laugh. "Then you compounded that foolishness by accepting Geass from C.C. and deciding that you could reverse the purge in Shinjuku instead of running away and forgetting all that had just happened."

"Wouldn't you have done the same?" Lelouch questioned back as though it were obvious.

Kallen smiled as she said. "Of course, I would have, but I doubt I would have made it nearly as far as you did."

She then sighed herself toward the seemingly distant memories before continuing. "Which brings me to the zenith of your foolishness: you decided to take on the whole of Britannia," she emphasized as she looked upon his Geass eye again. "All with that single and quite limited power."

This time, Lelouch sniffed as if insulted. "Once more, in my defense, I didn't know that the Power of Absolute Obedience only worked once per individual. At least not until much later."

"Not that it made a real difference," Kallen said as she again leaned in, this time kissing Lelouch over the left eye. A sharp breath escaped the latter's lips as a result. "What fool believes he can take on an empire that rules over a third of the world with such a meager ability? Especially when that fool is a high school student who had never been on a battlefield until that point?"

Even Lelouch couldn't help but laugh a little at the idea. "Yeah, it was stupid of me, now that I think about it," he admitted, smiling as well toward the memory. "Doesn't that also make you a fool for following me? And even more, for loving me?"

Kallen's smile only further increased at the insinuation. "That only makes us the perfect match, my liege," she proclaimed as she laid her head back on his shoulder and closed her eyes again. "I would have died long ago if I weren't such a fool."

Now, it was Kallen's turn to feel a tinge of melancholy. "I admit I didn't believe in much of anything back then. For a terrorist, I had a severe lack of faith in my supposed cause," she sighed as she closed her eyes, processing it all. "Even if Japan were somehow wrestled away from Britannia, that didn't change my brother and I being half-breeds. No matter how much we fought for freedom or what we accomplished against the enemy, we knew our so-called 'people' would never accept us."

She sniffed at the very thought. "Honestly, I was only following Naoto's lead at that time. And when he died, I fought more for his memory," she spoke, her eyes turning downward. "Knowing that I would be following him soon enough."

"Kallen…" Lelouch began to speak, only to stop as a renewed smile crossed Kallen's lips.

"That all changed when I met you," Kallen said as she again looked upon her love. "For the first time in my life, I was given hope. I started to believe in the cause I was fighting for, in the people I was fighting for."

She then reached up to stroke Lelouch's face. "In the one I was fighting for," she emphasized through her soothing. "And though I can't say it turned out entirely as I would have wanted, I still hope and believe regardless."

Kallen then leaned in to kiss Lelouch again. A little more lightly than before, but still putting the point across. "I only ask that you do the same, Lelouch," she said before her smile took on a tone of mischievousness. "Which brings me to a more eminent subject matter."

When Lelouch blinked in newfound perplexity, Kallen answered. "Do you remember what today is?"

It took the former prince a moment to remember, much to his slight embarrassment. "So it is," he admitted in understanding. "I don't suppose you have a present for me?"

"I do, and you'll receive it soon enough," Kallen responded, allowing some anticipation to show. "But for the moment…"

Again, she leaned in closer for a kiss. This one far deeper and fiery, signaling the Red Dragoness was ready to start anew. Not that Lelouch himself didn't feel the same intensity.

"Happy Birthday, Lelouch," Kallen whispered before re-engaging, with Lelouch returning in full. The world outside only continued without them.

So this is my new weapon, C.C. thought as she stood by and observed the knightmare frame that would replace her lost Gekka. At the very least, it was impressive looking; certainly not in the league of the Guren line, but most definitely several cuts above her previous machine. If C.C. hadn't known any better, she would have believed that this particular knightmare frame was her personalized Gekka reborn after having taken several steps up in badassery – the proper term if she recalled correctly – with additional and much more stylized armor, a mono-eyed head module with three additional sensor fins jutting out the sides and scalp, oversized slash harken blades jutting out its back and specialty energy generators on its forearms. All culminating in her familiar pink colors, which, as some had correctly deduced, she had her knightmares painted that spectrum to insult her opponents' injury further. After all, who would ever want to admit a pink knightmare had shot them down?

From what Rakshata had informed her, the Hanazuki was the first of its kind, specifically the first Black Knight machine to be built with Eildon technology mixed in. Besides enhanced performance and capability in virtually every area from its Gekka basis, its apparent primary feature was the Absolute Defense System. A next-generation defense shield surpassed even Blaze Luminous, it could protect its host machine from virtually any angle, though for it to work, it required a supplementing Druid System, as well as a Mark V Yggdrasil drive. C.C. looked forward to testing the system in the forthcoming Battle of Moscow, especially as the city held narrow streets and avenues that would severely limit her maneuverability.

Equipped with the ultimate shield, the Hanazuki's primary armament should naturally be the ultimate sword: Spatha Luminous. Functionally equivalent to Blaze Luminous shielding, the resultant particle projections are instead fashioned as elongated blades that can cut through virtually any form of armor or defense. Using the Spatha Luminous alongside the ADS, the Hanazuki could theoretically close the distance upon targets and swiftly cut them down without suffering damage. These were supplemented by the aforementioned pair of enlarged slash harkens, which could deploy from under the arms or over the shoulders. Through guidance from the Druid System and their harken boosters, the slash harkens could lock onto and reach targets from nigh innumerable vectors and angles, making them difficult to defend against, while their large bladed tips were made out of some arcane metal that the Eildons themselves had created, making them effective against virtually any armor or defense.

Overall, it was a rather impressive machine that C.C. would utilize far better than her previous one. The question was in what capacity would she use it specifically, much as it was with the rest of the Black Knights toward Moscow. As far removed as he had been for the past ten days, she knew Lelouch already had a plan for Moscow; in fact, he had probably made it well before, in direct anticipation of the Volga offensive faltering. Unfortunately, however, between the fallout of that last battle and the personal drama he had been dealing with, the good Demon King had not even dropped a hint of that plan to her, much less anyone else within the Order, resulting in C.C. being as much in the dark as the rest of them. A very disheartening feeling, considering she had previously been claimed as Zero's Mistress and was now one of the two closest to the Demon King. And that was before their actual partnership came to mind.

Well, it was of little concern, C.C. ultimately decided. Lelouch was still well within his shell, but C.C.'s other partner in crime was already working toward bringing him out. Eventually, he would return and explain their next plan of action, which would likely be a more desperate, back-to-the-wall action than those previously but no less spectacular nor effective. And when the time came, the immortal would be more than willing to take out her new ride against Bloody Marry and her legions of the damned altogether.

If there was one advantage Caer Sidi provided that Alfred truly appreciated, it offered a constant supply of predominantly Britannian food for the Izumo and the rest of the Black Knight forces in the field. Sure, Colonel Chawla and her fellows were still figuring out the ins and outs of the system, which meant the Black Knights could not utilize too much or too frequently. However, they could transport smaller-scale essentials such as food and comforts from Ryukyu or China, up to and including various forms of Britannian cuisine that the Imperial Army and assorted nobility had brought over from the Homeland. Not that Alfred had had any problem with Ryukuan cuisine – he still loved skewered rafute – but he remained Britannian born and raised, and there were just some things he could not do without, at least for very long, in this world. Among them was a traditional Britannian breakfast of thick bacon, scrambled eggs, fried tomatoes, and baked beans with complimentary breakfast tea.

Deliberately inhaling the scents from his tray, Alfred did well not to have his mouth water as he moved from the line toward one of the nearby tables, where Charmelle and Rai sat waiting for him. As far as any of them knew, they were the only ones from Zero and Raiden Squadrons that had arrived for the morning meal, though it wouldn't be long before the rest of their comrades showed up. It helped that it was still relatively early, and the others were either sleeping in or were caught up in other matters that precluded breakfast. Until then, it was just the three of them.

"I don't suppose anything relevant has happened while I was with Shirley Fenette in Huntington Beach," Alfred proclaimed as he took his seat by Charmelle, who didn't so much as blink at the latter claim. An act that Rai observed most casually.

Somehow I don't think Shirley Fenette was the one you were with, Rai thought but didn't say aloud, though he allowed a small, wry grin to fold over his lips. "Just the usual. Marrybell marching ever onward to tomorrow, or Moscow at least, and everyone standing by for the grand and elaborate plan to stop her. Oh yeah, and the Saints beat the Saracens twenty-four to twenty."

Charmelle laughed at that last bit. "Nice to see we can get the rugby matches out here," she responded. "Talk about priorities."

Alfred himself shrugged. "Sports are one of the things we do without in Ryukyu," he pointed out as though to remind Charmelle. "Though I suppose we can start a league or two in China now that we have the land and population for it."

"I'll put a request into High Command once we get home," Rai answered sardonically. "Meanwhile, it's all quiet on the Far Eastern Front. Zhukov is still holed up in Moscow. We're out here, and Bloody Marry is trudging along, as I said."

"Any ideas when that particular kickoff will be?" Alfred inquired.

Now it was Rai's turn to shrug. "The rumor mill believes it will be around New Year's, just before or immediately after," he said. "Which means we'll still be here for Christmas."

"Damn," Charmelle responded mildly, knowing that more than a few Black Knights had families back home in Ryukyu awaiting their return. That was a bit of harsh news, especially given the circumstances.

"C'est la guerre," Rai stated simply. "At the very least, we still have a direct supply line to home through Caer Sidi, so we'll have actual food for Christmas dinner and presents afterward."

"There is that, sure," Alfred nodded, appreciating Caer Sidi much more for it, though that did not make up for the fact they would not be going home anytime soon. "Maybe we should stock up on candy baskets and easter eggs while at it."

"I don't think we'll still be here by then, per se," Charmelle assuredly told her comrade and fellow Zero Squadron member. "And even then, if we beat Bloody Marry in the end, then I think it will be worth the trip home literally next year."

"Touche," Alfred resounded before taking another, more deliberate bite of his eggs. At the very least, he didn't have to worry about any family waiting for him back in Ryukyu. His brothers and sisters, to say nothing of his soon-to-be significant other – he hoped to God at least – were all there in Moskva with him. Even Andreas was there too, as Alfred had long learned it better to take him on excursions as this. "Though that's still a good twenty days of sitting around as we are."

"Would you rather it be spent fighting Bloody Marry?" Charmelle posited quite rhetorically.

"Again, touche," Alfred admitted around another mouthful, shivering at the idea of protracted fighting. Even in the age of the Knightmare Frame, battles that lasted months or years on end were still possible. And it was sure only to get colder the longer they remained in that part of Eurasia.

"For God's sake, brother, can't you just ask her out when we get back to Ryukyu?" Nichol admonished his elder sibling around the video game he was playing. Despite being one of the fiercest fighters in the Order of the Black Knights, Ash Phoenix could be annoyingly timid at the best times. "I don't care if her last name happens to be Sumeragi. You two have a thing."

"And what about you?" Ash retorted to his younger brother as he continued to dress in his uniform. "Don't tell me you're completely uninterested in her sister."

Nichol shrugged. "I may make a very similar request toward Sakura, but only if you match up with dear Sakuya."

Ash frowned, unable to keep from blushing at his recollection of the aforementioned woman, whose coffee shop he had frequented well into the present. Even though he knew virtually nothing about her, aside from her real name beyond her working one, "Raspberry," he could not deny he was very much charmed by her. The fact Nichol held a similar relationship and attraction with her apparent twin sister, "Strawberry," helped even less. "You really think she'll go out with me if I ask?"

"Only one way to find out," Nichol nodded in assurance. "When we return home, of course."

"Of course," Ash nodded, as though he had to be reminded he was precisely seven thousand, six hundred and twenty-five kilometers away from Naha. "And I appreciate that you used 'when' and not 'if.'"

Nichol laughed a little at that detail. "We'll return home, Ash. As will Zero, the Major, and everyone else we know and love," he responded with additional assuredness. "It's just a matter of how we will return. Or specifically, how we will beat Bloody Marry and fare afterward."

Despite his usual stoicism, even Ash could not keep from laughing a little. His younger brother was one of the few people who had that effect on him. "I admit I never get tired of your confidence, Nichol," he said as he slipped his tunic on and buckled the attached belt. "And since we're on the subject, what do you think on both accounts?"

Once more, Nichol shrugged. "Far be it for me to guess Zero's plan on that one, but I imagine it will involve a lot of dead people and totaled knightmare frames," he answered back. "The majority of which will naturally be made by us."

"Naturally," Ash repeated with another small laugh. That wasn't a hard guess, though he picked up on the unspoken side of Nichol's answer, specifically the involvement of one Zero's patented miracles. "And the second?"

That one made Nichol pause his game to consider. "Bloody Marry will be dead, and the world will be a better place for it," he stated, though Ash was keen enough to pick up on his younger brother's uncertainty. At least before Nichol added. "And we will return to Ryukyu as triumphant heroes to sweep yon twin coffee maidens off their feet."

Ash cringed, his hand nearly slipping as he closed his uniform collar. "I hope you're not planning to use that kind of line with Sakura."

"Why not? Too Shakespearean?" Nichol mockingly let out as he unpaused his game and continued to play. "Then again, I probably wouldn't be an ace devicer if I had gone into poetry."

"You had your chance," Ash pointed out as he came up to observe Nichol's game. "You didn't have to follow me into the Army, or the Black Knights for that matter."

"Oh, but I did, brother," Nichol replied, smirking. "Letting you into the wide, wide world alone in either case would have been disastrous."

"I could have made it on my own," Ash retorted.

"I meant for said wide, wide world," Nichol shot back before finishing his bout. He would have had more to beat the game, but the younger Phoenix chose to end it there regardless. He might have been a proud gamer, but the growling of his stomach meant breakfast took immediate priority. "Besides, I don't think I'm any more cut out for civilian life than you are."

To that, Ash allowed for a smile. "Probably not," he admitted, finding some irony in that claim. In another time and place, he would have done all in his power to ensure Nichol Phoenix lived a peaceful, prosperous life well outside any military service. Now though, he could not imagine fighting without his younger brother by his side. "Shall we?"

"Please," Nichol deliberately rubbed his stomach before he stood up to follow.

The blizzard remained constant as it had been since the return from the Volga. Between the snow and the raging wind, it was almost a miracle in itself that Marika could see through the observation deck's viewport into the world outside, much less depict anything from the sheer white. Not that she expected anything more; with the emergence of December, the last fragments of Autumn had very much been swept away by the literal winds of Winter, and so began the final days of the two-thousandth and eightieth year of After Throne Britannia. An apt conclusion to a most tumultuous year, which was sure to end on an even more tumultuous note, assuming that the final battle in Moscow took place before said year's end. Marika could only hope that she lived to see that new year, as well as the warmth and comfort of home thereafter.

"I thought I would find you here," a new voice spoke up, nearly causing Marika to nearly jump. So concentrated had she been on the snowstorm outside that she had failed to pick up on a familiar pair of bootfalls, the owner of which casually walked up to stand before the viewport with her. One of the few people on the entirety of the Izumo that she would otherwise allow beside her at that time, lest rank be pulled. "Looks like it's only gotten worse over the last few days."

"It has," Marika confirmed, nodding to Jeremiah without turning her head. "I only hope that it is not an omen."

The cyborg Colonel smirked at that claim. "Since when do you believe in omens, Lieutenant Soresi?"

Again, despite herself, Marika allowed her own lips to fold into a mirroring smirk. "Since all too certain events that led to September 13, 2072, Colonel Gottwald," she responded, her camaraderie with her late brother's former superior a striking contrast to her dire words. "In fact, I've come to believe a lot of things I originally dismissed since then."

"So I understand," Jeremiah responded, looking down at the young Lieutenant's black and silver uniform as though to visibly emphasize.

Noting that, Marika let out a small sigh. "Sometimes I wonder what Kewell would say if he had lived to see me now," she admitted, focusing back on the white horizon. "How he would take to his younger sister falling in with the 'impure Elevens.'"

Jeremiah sniffed at the idea himself, internally wondering much the same. Kewell Soresi had been one of the more zealous of the Purist Faction – the events following the Orange Incident alone proved that much – but Jeremiah liked to think even his former subordinate would have chosen to fall in with the 'impure Elevens' himself following the Devastation. A rather strange notion to Jeremiah, who at the time would have given anything to wring Kewell's neck for his betrayal and attempted assassination. Like so many things, however, that had been long ago and well before the thirteenth of September 2072.

"Regardless of what he would think," Jeremiah spoke up again, reearning Marika's attention. "I believe you are where you're supposed to be, as does Colonel Ohgi. And the Order we now serve is all the better for it."

"Heh," Marika exclaimed, taking the words at face value. "You're too kind, Colonel."

"Aren't I always Lieutenant?" Jeremiah lightly chided, earning another small laugh from the younger Soresi. "But I don't think you're here to dwell on Kewell any more than you are to watch the snow fall."

Marika nodded in confirmation of that, knowing better than to deny it. "Somehow it feels like we're even further from Moscow, and the end of all this, than we were when we hit Krasnoyarsk," she admitted. "And certainly further than where we were at the Volga."

Again the edge of Jeremiah's lips folded into a smirk. "Feeling homesick, are we, Lieutenant?"

"That and just wanting to be done with all of this," Marika gestured to the viewport before rubbing her temples in her frustration. An action and emotion that never would have done and shown before just any of her comrades. "Even China was not this…this aggravating."

Because you weren't up against your ex-fiancée in China, Jeremiah thought but didn't say allowed, knowing Marika already understood that. "All good things, Lieutenant. All good things," he placed his hand on her. "This too will come to pass, and it will be soon enough."

Marika reached up and squeezed her superior's hand in acknowledgment. "I appreciate that Colonel," she responded as she withdrew her hand, as did Jeremiah. "Hopefully the next party will attend will be in a warmer and sunnier place."

Now, it was Jeremiah's turn to laugh a little. That was one thing Marika had apparently retained from Japan and a trait her brother had held. Neither had been overly concerned about whether or not they would survive the battle – they both habitually presumed they would – only where they would end up thereafter. While Kewell had not survived Narita, Marika at least "knew" she would survive Moscow in his stead. Even if it meant killing her assumably former love.

"I have an inclination that will very well be the case, Lieutenant," Jeremiah sagely proclaimed, his mind comprehending that exact subject matter. Indeed, where would they go after all this but Area 18? Especially when Jeremiah, and Lelouch with him, knew well what dwelled there, deep within Britannia's shadow…

Moscow, State of Moskva, Eurasian Union

Though there was no rampaging snowstorm occurring in Moscow, as opposed to further south, it was damned cold enough that Zhukov would very much rather have been back at the Kremlin. The fact he was standing right beside the Moskva River helped even less, as the ice water's effects on the environment only made the air that much colder. Not very becoming of a born and bred Muscovite to have any discomfort to the cold, especially at the onset of winter in which the Far Eastern – Russian – men were meant to thrive, but even the Bear of the Far East had only so much tolerance. And it didn't help that, in anticipation of this wholly inconspicuous meeting, he had reneged in drinking any alcohol, vodka or otherwise.

Fortunately, it was of little matter as Zhukov's sharp peripheral vision depicted a figure moving toward him from the left. The apparent old woman in question looked anything but a soldier, much less his awaited contact, but considering who (presumably) she was acting on behalf of, Zhukov knew better than to take anything for granted. Even a babushka who appeared to have lived since the days of Joseph Stalin and somehow managed to survive well enough all the way through.

"Good morning, good sir," the old woman greeted in a voice to match her appearance, speaking to Zhukov, who remained turned toward the river. As though the Eurasian commander of the Far Eastern Theater were any ordinary man on the street. "The Black King has invited you to Mount Fuji."

Exhaling a highly visible breath, Zhukov could only respond in kind. "I would prefer Sochi, but I am honored to accept his invitation," Zhukov responded, at last turning to face the contact. "This better be worth my time."

Despite the edge in the General's voice, the babushka nodded in acknowledgment. "All too worthwhile, General," the old woman proclaimed as she reached out and offered a dataclip. "On the Black King's behalf, I give you the means toward final victory."

"Really?" Zhukov exclaimed dubiously but took the dataclip regardless. "And how does the Black King intend to accomplish that?" he gestured toward the Moskva. "Sink the whole of Moscow into the river and drown the Britannians?"

"Nothing so extreme, I assure you," the babushka proclaimed despite the General's dubiousness. "In fact, if you follow those instructions to the letter, Eurasia will have the complete advantage over Bloody Marry," the old woman's smile extended, such that she now came close to a depiction of Baba Yaga. "For a time, at least."

Of course, Zhukov thought, figuring that would be the case. He only hoped that whatever "advantage" Zero offered him would be enough. And that maybe, just maybe, it would rout the battle without the application of a landslide or sinkhole.

"Just be sure to instruct your forces not to engage any Black Knights or Peace Mark units when they appear," the old woman stated. "We would not want any 'friendly fire' incidents after all."

"Technically, I am under orders to engage Zero and any of his affiliates on sight," Zhukov pointed out, as though to remind. "In fact, I believe some of the forces under my present command have already engaged with the Black Knights all too recently."

"Indeed," the old woman responded without surprise or condemnation. "For this battle, I ask that they not engage for a second round. Not when we already have mutual enemies to dispatch."

"There is that, yes," Zhukov acknowledged right as the wind began to blow. Something on his face must have given his discomfort away, as the babushka then produced a flask.

"Another gift from the Black King," she offered with an infuriatingly knowing grin.

Sniffing derisively, Zhukov nonetheless took the flask and drank a great swig. As opposed to vodka, it appeared to be higher-end Britannian whisky. It was so smooth that it practically slid down Zhukov's throat, warming his insides in an instant.

Taking one more moment to savor the unfamiliar but most welcome flavor, Zhukov answered. "I will instruct my forces not to engage unless engaged," he confirmed while placing the flask into his greatcoat pocket. He then allowed another moment to pass before adding. "And off the record, please forward my gratitude to the Black King for his fighting for the Rodina."

The babushka nodded, now smiling in her own gratitude. "I will give him your thanks," she said before finishing. "Dosvidaniya, and good luck to you out there."

"To you as well," Zhukov responded, now understanding who he had been "casually" talking to. And it wasn't a babushka.

Nodding one more time in acknowledgment, Orpheus Zevon turned and departed from whence he had first approached.

Odinstovo Army Base
Moscow, State of Moskva, Eurasian Union

"Verdammt diese Kälte!" Ryo let out as soon as he entered the barracks, quickly stripping his overcoat and ushanka the moment the door closed and the heat resettled. Not for the first time since their initial entry into Far Eastern Eurasia did the Japanese man wish he were back in Weisswolf already, preferably next to a warm fire. Unfortunately, he yet remained in Moscow and all the winter wonderments it procured for him and his fellow Werwolfs. Awaiting for the day Bloody Marry came by for tea and crumpets. What possessed the goddamned Ruskies to settle here to start with!?

Sighing and half-expected to see his breath form into collection of ice cubes thereafter, Ryo eventually made his way to the main recreation area. As he expected, more than a few of his fellow wolves, minus their commander per usual, were present, with Yukiya and several others watching yet another episode of Klink's Kommandos and Ayano off to the side, cleaning her wakizashi. A burst of laughter from the former group soon followed, apparently from Klink and his fellow prisoners-turned-saboteurs playing a trick on their Soviet "captors" while the prison camp commandant, Colonel Rodion Andreievich Hoganov, remained none the wiser. From the sound of things, it was the episode where, along with their main mission, the Kommandos were able to make off with a vodka shipment meant for Stalin himself.

Could use some of that right about now, Ryo sighed again as he moved over to one part of the room where a coffee machine had been conveniently placed. Though the coffee at Odinstovo was best equivalent to the lubricant used on knightmare joints, it still did well to heat one's insides, so Ryo quickly filled himself a cup. He then looked toward Ayano, who didn't so much as glance away from her blade. "I don't suppose there's any news from the front."

"Nothing, aside from Tovarishch Stalin being lined up for a major disappointment," Ayano proclaimed while wiping down her wakizashi, conveniently as more laughter sounded from around the seemingly ancient television set. "Last any of us heard, most of the Britannians had crossed the Volga and are well on their way here."

This time Ryo reneged from sighing, knowing that such a thing had been inevitable. "Well, at least we won't be sitting on our asses for that much longer," he responded, downing a fair amount of coffee without grimacing at it. Once more he yearned to be back in Weisswolf already. "The sooner we win this fight, the better."

"'Win' Hauptmann Sayama?" Ayano proclaimed in mock astoundment. "That's quite a presumption."

"We have to win if we want to get back to Weisswolf, Oberleutnant Kousaka," Ryo pointed out, again forcing the coffee down. "Besides, I don't care for the alternatives."

"Fair enough," Ayano concurred, doing well not to grimace at the very thought.

Ryo took a deeper sip of his coffee cup, as well as momentarily savored the warmth that filled his belly, before asking his next question. "And speaking about hearing things from over the distant horizon, has anyone heard from Herr Major today?"

Ayano shrugged. "He came out once for breakfast and then promptly returned to his quarters," the First Lieutenant answered somewhat blandly. "The consensus is he's sacked out until Christmas or New Years'. Or whenever the Britannians finally get here."

That earned a chuckle from Ryo. "That would be just like him," he responded before finishing the rest of his present cup.

And so here we are, Akito communicated again through Leila's Power of Absolute Affinity. Through that same power, the Japanese born Eurasian Major felt as though his back was literally against hers in distant Weisswolf. Waiting for the inevitable to come to pass.

Any ideas when that will be? Leila responded back, allowing a frown to fold over her expression at the thought of Akito and the other Werwolfs remaining so far away. She had at least hoped they would be home by Christmas, as the ancient cliché went. Then again, she had also hoped the war would be over by then as well.

Akito sighed at the mere thought of Blood Marry's legions oncoming toward Moscow, regardless of when they would in fact arrive. Estimates place them somewhere after Christmas and before or after New Year's. Even Princess Marrybell can only have her armies march so much, especially over frozen plains and tundra.

Heh, it's nice to see the infamous Russian Winter live up to its reputation. Leila couldn't help but laugh somewhat at the irony. That had been the greatest hindrance to Eurasia during the Soviet War, even more so than Georgy Zhukov and the Red Army itself. Fortunately, Erwin Rommel had proven adept at acclimating the European Army to it, which was why it was now the Eurasian Army. However, in the age of the knightmare frame and mechanized warfare at large, that will only offer you so much of an advantage.

No need to remind me, Frau Oberst, Akito responded, as though such hadn't been obvious. Indeed, snow, ice, and even the equally infamous Rasputitsa were but mere inconveniences to a working Sutherland or Ritter, whose landspinners could easily be adapted toward. It will at least slow them down enough for the present-day General Zhukov to further augment our defenses. On that end, any further news from Berlin regarding the state of affairs here?

Leila shook her head. They're far more concerned with the happenings in France at this time, particularly Lyon.

Oh? Akito couldn't help but question. Has Hannes finally taken that city?

That's the strange part of it. He hasn't, Leila responded with. Not even with his brother Lelouch and three Knights of the Round supporting him.

The Japanese Major raised an eyebrow at that. Though he hadn't credited Hannes gua Britannia as a tactical genius from his side of the continent, he would have at least thought him capable of eventually conquering a stronghold like Lyon. The fact he had the Black Prince and the Knights of Three, Six, and Seven with him should have made it all the easier.

Central Command believes they can use this to halt or even reverse their advance, though I think it'll just sink us deeper into the quagmire, Leila said, another frown passing over. So long as it keeps them out of Germany, I guess.

Yes, anything and everything for that. Akito did well not to roll his eyes. God forbid that the Britannians reach Berlin in the same manner Marshal Zhukov had long ago, and even more so the Central Hemicycle and Berlin Palace. It wasn't as though the old bastards in either could run back to Paris. Has there been any further word or orders to you from Herr Präsident on that particular subject?

Not since Mitternacht's conclusion, no, Leila answered, which she also found to be strange. Not that she complained; the last thing she needed was Kessler and his fellow Nationalist Untermenschen on her back again. Clearly, they're just as preoccupied with Lyon.

Or something else, Akito openly thought, wondering if that was indeed the Nationalists' focus at that time. Not that he could dwell on it too much of course, as he was about as knowledgeable on President Kessler's mindset as he was on the Demon King he and his pack had been sent to hunt originally. So long as they're not bothering you I suppose.

Or you, Leila pointed out. Remember you're on Herr Präsident's orders to engage the Black Knights on sight.

I remain aware, ja, Akito resounded dutifully enough. As though Leila didn't know any better. Just as I remain aware that my sight is quite limited, especially when it is encroached by Britannians.

A smile enfolded over Leila's lips, knowing her love's true intent all too well. As I should expect.

Moscow, State of Moskva, Eurasian Union

Doing well to keep his shivering to a minimal, Orpheus made his way down the street, moving by some random bystanders as he went. His Geass was still active, so as far as those around him were aware, he remained another random babushka, either too old or too stubborn to evacuate from Moscow to the west. Not that it would have made much of a difference of course; if Marrybell really did conquer the city into Britannia's domain, there would be nowhere for anyone to run to. Especially when the Britannians were on their way to conquering the west as well.

That being said however, the progress of the war was far from Orpheus' immediate concerns, especially as he moved toward an all too certain storefront. Technically this was not part of his mission there; in fact, said mission had been wholly accomplished once he had passed that dataclip onto Zhukov. Even so, the former terrorist was not about to return to the Euliya without that little add on being completed as well. No matter what Zero was to think of it thereafter.

With that well in mind, alongside the fact time was indeed short, Orpheus entered the store and began to search for the appropriate item.

Black Knights mobile battleship Izumo
State of Moskva, Eurasian Union

It was well into the evening now, seemingly the perfect time for the war to resume. After spending the better part of the day removed from it, and the rest of the Izumo altogether, Lelouch and Kallen, now very much dressed in their respective uniforms, stood by and waited for the lift to bring them to the awaited deck. No additional words were spoken as they waited patiently, with both revolutionaries simply staring ahead, whether through their naked eyes or the black mask's HMD system. All the while, the numbers shifted as they drew closer to their destination.

At least, until Lelouch let out a hard exhale and reached out, tapping the "STOP" button. The elevator did just that as Kallen turned toward her love and superior. "What's wrong?"

"I need a moment," Lelouch responded, his head tilting down as he felt himself tremble again. Knowing that Kallen would not let him off with just that, he began to explain after a long and deliberate exhale. "I just realized this is the most precarious position I've ever been in."

Kallen said nothing to this, indirectly imploring Lelouch to continue, which he did. "As far back as Shinjuku, I always had a solid plan to follow and execute. And if that plan had failed, I usually had a backup in place. And when that backup failed, I had yet another backup, and so on and so forth."

A sad grin emerged over Lelouch's lips as he continued to look down. "I think…I think this is the first time I have nothing else to fall back on," the former prince spoke with clear uncertainty. "No further miracles, no additional tactics to employ. I will either win with this alone or…"

He did not finish that sentence, though his fear and apprehension were quite clear. Understanding crossing her own eyes, Kallen reached out and gently encouraged Lelouch to turn toward her. When he did so, the orb of his mask faced squarely upon her, Kallen then reached up and placed her hands on either side of it.

"What…?" Lelouch began to question as his lover lifted the mask off his head, the one part of his guise that established him as Zero and not Lelouch vi Britannia to the world. Once the mask was removed and their eyes firmly met, Kallen reached up and placed her right hand against Lelouch's cheek. From which she drew him into another kiss, one that was far less intense than those they had shared not too long ago but no less powerful in its own right. For it held a warmth and assuredness that reaffirmed Lelouch's soul.

Once they separated, both prince and knight could only look into each other's eyes for that much longer. Only then did Kallen speak. "You will win, as I said before," she further assured. "Regardless of all that is against us, or what little we may hold to fight, Lelouch vi Britannia will win this day."

Again she stroked his cheek, to which Lelouch's eyes momentarily drifted. Taking the contact and motion in while he still could.

"And with this victory, we will be that much closer to the world you envisioned," Kallen said, smiling warmly as she gazed upon Lelouch's face, reminded of his original liberation from Pendragon. Where she had seen the boy who hid under that mask for the second time. "The world you will bring forth for Nunnally and many others."

Reaching up to hold deepen the contact between Kallen's hand and his cheek, Lelouch, his eyes reopening to again gaze into hers, could only respond with. "I love you, Kallen."

Smiling that much more, Kallen's own eyes shown in responding tenderness. "I know. And I, you, Lelouch."

They remained there for a few moments longer before Kallen finally withdrew her hand. She then lifted the mask up to set back into place. "Now, time to work."

Fully understanding, Lelouch closed his eyes and allowed Kallen to replace the mask. Once more embracing the mantle of the Demon King.

With a light swish, the door to the briefing room shifted open, allowing Kallen to enter and then Lelouch himself. The core leaders and officers of the Order of the Black Knights, both aboard the Izumo herself and placed around various parts of the world, now looked toward their leader with anticipation, which Lelouch did well to observe. There was no condemnation nor judgment in any of their eyes, only the expectation that the Demon King had a strategy in mind. A strategy that would win them the day.

His own eyes moving from one official to the other, beginning with Ohgi and ending with Tohdoh, Lelouch saw that they were indeed ready and willing. Now was the time. "I now present to you Operation Fuyukaze."

The main briefing room monitor shifted to display a particular structure, the very centerpiece of the operation in question. Whose description read as Ostankino Tower.