Cleanup had been as frustrating and disheartening as he had expected. Telling Laurie the contract was void wasn't any comfort to her. Even if she had second thoughts about what she had pledged, she had still lost her friend. And Emily's father, the only other person who knew exactly what he had lost... There was no helping him anymore. Forcefully hypnotised, he was rewritten in a sense. He would sell his home, start a new life elsewhere. It was the best way to prevent him recalling everything. Everything else, of course, was more or less tidied up. A mass disappearance but with very little to go on... Such things happened more often than humans would ever realise. There would be a cursory investigation but it wouldn't go anywhere, likely ended prematurely by indirect pushback from Cao Cao's patron. Another great mystery of the supernatural world for everyone but the devils.

Lelouch would need to report on his discovery of this 'hero faction'. No doubt they would target devils at some point. But that could wait. It would have to wait.

"How is she?"

The deceptively innocent Bishop carefully closed the door behind her. The door to the room that their new guest and future peerage member had been assigned. "I'm keeping her under a sleep spell for now. Her soul is beginning to fragment. The way she strained herself in the castle only sped up her deterioration. She doesn't have long. Waiting until she passes would lose her forever, her amalgamate soul will break the moment there isn't a life force trying to hold it together."

"So it's now or never," Lelouch acknowledged, moving past her.

"Master," she called to him before he could enter. "I... There's... Something you should know." She held her doll tighter. "She's... Nothing."

"... What?" It was a strange statement that he didn't understand in the slightest.

"Because of what she is, how she was made," Ana continued, trying not to look at him. "Most people have an identity. One soul. One life. One body. It all fits together to make them who they are. But she's a life made of over a hundred partial souls shoved in an artificial body. She... She has so many fragments of identity that she doesn't have a single unifying 'her'." She licked her lips. "I've... I've seen something like it before. When someone goes through– When... Without a foundation for her identity, it's very easy for someone else to define that foundation for them." She knew as well as he did by the way he was looking at her. They both knew there were things she was choosing to carefully talk around. "Please don't ask me." Her tone was begging. She knew he could get the answer if he really wanted it. She was still under the effects of his Geass.

He took a deep breath, letting his curiosity go. Though, "I hope one day you'll feel comfortable enough to tell me yourself. But it's your secret to keep." He glanced at the door again. "You're saying anything I say to her, anything I tell her about what happened and who she is, it will have a profound impact on who she will become."

"Some of it will be defined by the fragments she's made from. They wanted her to be Galahad after all. But there's no foundation to it. Just... Impulses. If she were able, she would do things, but not know why. She probably doesn't understand why she intervened on Lancelot's behalf. Based on that impulse that she half destroyed herself to act on, she will be as chivalrous, protective and self-sacrificing as she showed herself to be then. Anything else... That will be up to you and how you choose to approach her. Right now she's as naive as a child. That state won't last long once she has a stable identity, but right now she'll believe whatever you tell her."

He nodded slowly. "This is a dangerous thing to tell someone."

"I trust you," she answered simply with a slight smile. "And I love you. I know you will do what you feel needs to be done."

He pressed her. "And what do you feel needs to be done?"

Her smile dropped out of shock. He had put her on the spot and he knew it, wanting to know a little more to the part of herself she was hiding from him. "I... She will be your servant. You will be her master. She should understand that above all else."

The devil heir remembered the moment he first met Anastasia. The very first word he ever used to describe her.

Soft. But clearly it was only on the surface.

He knew as he closed the door behind him. What she had told him, what she had suggested, it wasn't like it wasn't already on his mind. Oh, he didn't know the state of this girl's mind. This girl in magically induced repose wearing simple flannel clothing to preserve her modesty. He didn't know she had no sense of self yet. But the possibility of defining her existence... That had already entered his thoughts.

He stared down at her, a crimson crane appearing in his eye. Cancelling the sleep spell, giving her one command before reincarnating her... It would be the height of simplicity. He had done it before and he had seen the results himself. The positively evil amateur witch he had brought into his peerage worshipped the ground he walked on. She would do anything for him. On such a girl as her, he didn't regret it. He would make use of her. Find a purpose for her so she might do someone some good. He already had thoughts on what that might be. For someone like her, his flexible morals could tolerate subverting her so completely.

This girl before him now though... She was the picture of innocence. A cursed and blessed existence. A violation of everyone she contained, but she herself had done nothing to anyone. No, on the contrary. Her only action had been to save a life. Could he visit the same complete domination on her as he had on Hiroko? Would it even make a difference when as Ana said, he would be defining her sense of self regardless?

... The sigil faded from his eye. Yes. It would make a difference. He had never wanted drones. Slaves. Even in the early days of the Black Rebellion when he was first building his forces. He could have completely subverted the wills of those who would one day be his Black Knights. There was quite literally nothing stopping him. He had every single one of them alone in an otherwise empty train car with him. One command and they would have been his for the rest of their lives. Instead, he had chosen to inspire them. Loyalty earned was worth a hundred times loyalty enforced. And loyalty could only be earned if those giving it had the capacity to doubt it. Even if his Black Knights had betrayed him in the end, he still believed it. He still believed he would never have gotten as far as he had if he had stolen their wills.

He produced two Knight pieces. Of course something like her would hold absurd power. A soul so refined, to be so perfect a Galahad she might surpass the original. He would have been surprised if she cost less. The pieces sank into her body. Her back arched, her body spasmed before falling still and silent.

It was the superior choice, he was sure of it. But even so, he couldn't help but wonder why he even still had his Geass in this world. Was it some sort of cruel temptation foisted on him when he was reincarnated in this world? Or was it simply what C.C. had said to him all those years ago? 'The power of the king will condemn you to a life of solitude.' A life, though. Just one. But what would she know about reincarnation as a woman who not only had not died but could not die?

He had used his power six times in this life. In fourteen years, just six times. On Sara. On Bain Naberius and his peerage to ensure they would die anyway. On Ana at her request. On Hiroko as a test on an utterly acceptable target and soon after Reika to relieve her of the memories of her nightmarish end. On Emily Withers' father when hypnosis backfired. And finally this very day, to tackle circumstances that would perhaps have been too dire without it.

He was of course naturally disinclined to use it after his first life was caused nothing but problems by his Geass. Both for using it for people like Euphemia, and for not using it for the subversion of his Black Knights. But perhaps, the one thing that had coloured his perception of this power of the king in this life... His very first time using it. The very first careless use of it had far-reaching consequences. After that, it was no wonder he was more reticent than he would otherwise have been.

He would never scorn having an extra tool in his arsenal. He couldn't imagine his relationship with Ana being so strong as it was if he didn't have his Geass to prove her true intentions. But still, there were times when he almost wished he didn't have it to tempt him.

He waited in the room, having Kallen fetch his work notes from the library and deliver them to him. It gave him something to occupy and distract him in the hours before the girl awoke.

And eventually... "Hm..." It was quiet. Weak. But definitely a consciously made sound.

He looked up from his notes, seeing the girl's eyelids shift open to reveal amethyst irises, richer and more vibrant than his own, peeking through her faintly pink hair. "Good morning."

"Is it?" she asked, quiet, confused. "Who are you? ... Am I? Is this?" Even her questions were half-formed fragments as she tried and failed to piece anything together.

"I am the one who saved your life," he answered. "I am your master."

"Master... Are you my master?" she asked with a furrowed brow. "My master... Then... Master. Masters have servants. Am I your servant?"

"Yes, you are my Knight," he confirmed for her, watching the piece of information slot into her mind in real time. The first new piece of foundation for her identity was that she belonged to him. The difference from enforcing it with Geass was small, but had far greater meaning than its effect in this moment. "What do you remember?"

"I... The knight... The black knight... He was..." Her eyes widened, worry entering them. "Is he okay?"

"He is. Or at least was the last time I saw him." She needed to know some of what made her... But there was no cause for making her feel guilty. Gently, he pulled her into a sitting position, her legs dangling off the bed. "Those he followed, they did some unpleasant things to bring you into the world, but he seemed to care for you a great deal." Because he was insane and saw her as his long lost son, but that wasn't important in this moment. He wanted her to see herself as having value. Balancing out that self-sacrificing nature a little.

"I remember... There were voices. They called me... Mash? Is that who I am?" She frowned, shaking her head. "No... He... The black knight, he called me Galahad." A giggle escaped her. "I know that name. There were knights... And a king... The Round Table. Galahad, he was a knight too! Just like me!" She looked to Lelouch, her master. "Master, who am I? Am I Mash? Or am I Galahad?"

"You aren't Galahad," he told her first. "But you inherited a great deal from him." A very diplomatic way to phrase that. He wasn't aware that they had named her, and with an unpleasantly on-the-nose name at that. Even so, "You are you. You're Mash, my Knight, a devil, and an heir of Galahad." He wasn't especially qualified in the language of the region but he was fairly sure... "Mash ab-Galahad, how does that sound?" As he listened back to it, language informed him of the mistake he had made.

"Mash ab-Galahad... I am!" she nodded with a warm, contented smile as understanding filled her. "I understand!" She shuffled off the edge of the bed, lowering herself to one knee. "Then I, Mash ab-Galahad swear to serve you honourably and faithfully, Master! Ah!" Her eyes widened. "I... I don't know your name, Master."

Well, it was a minor mistake. Sure he had accidentally named her 'son of Galahad' but who would ever notice or care? Surnames could be like that. "Lelouch," he answered, pulling her up by her hands, Mash staring at them with wonder, then into his eyes. "My name is Lelouch Bael, heir to the House of Bael. I'm pleased to have you in my peerage, Mash, and I promise I will do what I can to be worthy of that oath you swore."

Ana had been right. He could tell with just a glance at this girl's beaming smile just how pure and innocent she was. "What happens now, Master?"

"Now I'm going to introduce you to the others. We're going to get you some food, some clothes of your own and show you around."

"Okay!"

That smile. If she stayed this sweet his teeth would ache.

-(-)-

A few days passed in what could broadly be called contentment. Mash coming to terms with the world around her. What she liked. What she disliked. From clothes to food to people. She met each of the members of her new peerage. What quickly became apparent was that she could seemingly appreciate anything or anyone. Not necessarily like, but appreciate. Even for the things she hated she would say things like, "This is awful!" but then expound on its positive qualities despite her distaste. A positive outlook, trying to see the best in everything.

Each day she would go through several different outfits, trying to find her own personal sense of style. Each attempt wildly different from the last. From heavy formal dresses to military garb to tanktop and booty shorts. It could be said she had eclectic tastes, but in truth she didn't like any of them, but parts of her liked all of them. In the end, it seemed she preferred a skirt over dark pantyhose, a blouse and tie. And glasses for some reason despite having perfect eyesight.

Not that Lelouch was about to complain or contradict the choice. Rias wore cosmetic glasses too when she wanted to look intelligent. Aesthetic was aesthetic. Everyone had their own. And he couldn't even gainsay her himself without being a hypocrite. There was no call for wearing a cape in his own home but more often than not he did it anyway.

As for her combat attire, a set of armour was in the process of being forged and enchanted, fitting her measurements. Dark plate with knee-length greaves and gauntlets, as well as a sturdy shield almost the size of her. There were concerns of if she would be able to wield the heavy slab of enchanted metal while still utilising her Knight-granted speed but on testing her, she proved she very much could. Whichever god had made her body, sculpted her soul, save for the part where it all fell apart he did a fantastic job. Had she been able to remain human she would have been superhuman. Even more so for her natural aptitude with the blade.

It had only seemed right to give her Arondight. She was likely one of the few devils in existence capable of wielding it without adverse effects. As a devil she was immune to the corrupting nature of the demonic aspect of the blade, while her holy nature protected her from the power of its original state. All put together, she was poised to be a terrifying force on the battlefield, especially if he still wished to participate in rating games. Deadly, beautiful, sweet, cheerful, and all his.

A part of him wanted her, in ways he had learned to suppress thanks to Ana and ageing out of his worst and most impulsive drives. There was still no denying his devilish nature though. The way she preened at his approval, it awakened something dangerous in him. Yes. This entire debacle had been a source of nothing but grief, but Mash had made it worth it. To say nothing of what he had learned.

He had a meeting with Serafall and Sirzechs at the end of the week. If some god was making a play, they both needed to be informed.

But with all of that in the past, Lelouch was once again free to return to his primary tasks. Negotiating an engagement to Rias, a process that relied on Zeoticus being willing to give him the time of day. And solving the millennia old conundrum of the sleeping sickness.

"DAMN IT ALL!"

It wasn't going very well.

Anastasia stared at the pile of papers that had just been atomised by a blossom of destructive power. "Kallen, could you make a note that the Vassago will not be receiving their text on the history of the sixth century BCE."

"Got it," the redhead answered, pen and notepad in hand. It was the sixth on a list of rare documents their King had destroyed in a rage.

"If it's a disease it has to have a source," Lelouch reasoned out loud. "It has to! There are no cases before the fourth century BCE! Not one reported case! I checked with every pillar house! Every extra house!" And that had been a nightmare of its own. "Whatever caused the sickness, it first appeared sometime around then. Something introduced into our ecosystem, something we discovered, some... Some vector for the disease to jump to devils and be passed on! Something that was introduced to devil society then, reaching only the elite. But... But there's nothing!" he exclaimed, gripping his hair as he slumped in his chair. "I really thought I was onto something! There are so many factors I've figured out in how this disease works but they don't lead to anything! Some latent factor that activates only in those with sufficient demonic power? But then why does it only affect some?! Why does it not appear more in those with the greatest amounts of demonic power! It doesn't make sense!"

"Okay," Kallen sighed, standing from the armchair she was lounging in. "Lelouch, it might be time to take a break, don't you think? You're not going to suddenly figure it out when you're all worked up like this–"

"No," he denied her, standing and leaning on the desk as he pulled another old document, staring at it furiously, demanding it give him the answer. "The answer is here somewhere! I'm just too stupid to see it!"

"No argument," the redhead whispered, looking at the Bishop beside her. "This is gonna make things better or worse." A crimson gauntlet appeared on her arm. "OI!"

"What, Kallen?!" he demanded, rounding on her.

"BOOST!"

Lelouch flew from the impact of the punch across his jaw. His body launched up and across the room to slam into a bookcase, the devil King dropping into a pile of fallen books and broken shelves.

The redhead walked over, kneeled before him. If he were going to do something drastic and lash out at her in revenge, she'd be right out that door behind her. "Are you awake now?"

"You punched me!"

"What, you didn't think I would when you're acting like a bellend?"

"No," he answered as he sat up, a book falling off of his head. "That part seemed pretty in character for you. Just... Wasn't expecting it, I guess."

"I'll bet. You were expecting glaring at papers and destroying them would somehow find the cure to an ancient disease." She folded her arms over her chest. "Fair to say your expectations are a bit wonky right now, aye?"

He sat in silence for a moment before releasing a frustrated sigh. More for self-recrimination than anger. "You're right." He dropped an elbow onto his knee, planting a closed fist into his forehead. "I just, I thought I was close. After so long of nothing I felt like I was making real progress. Like I might finally figure out the answer."

"Maybe you will, maybe you won't. Lashing out at everything won't get you there faster." She grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet. "There's still plenty of time to figure it out and you don't need to do it alone. You've got money, get some researchers to help. Ones with actual medical training maybe."

"They'd miss something," Lelouch countered. "They have for two thousand years."

"Okay Mister World-on-his-Shoulders. Oh," she suddenly had a thought. "Atlas. Suppose he's a thing an' all?" She looked behind her, getting an amused nod from Ana. "Wicked. Wonder what he thinks of Ayn Rand." She shook her head, putting a hand on her King's shoulder. "Anyway. Maybe it's time to call it a day, Lelouch."

"No," he denied her again. "I... Thank you, I guess I needed that, though that's not permission to hit me whenever you want."

"Mm, yeah, prob'ly not," she agreed, in a way that said she didn't actually agree. Mostly in the smile.

"But I can keep going. If I'm not exhausted I can keep working."

"Christ–FUCK!" sighed then shouted, grabbing her head. "Sorry. Okay, fine." She followed him back to his desk, watched him sit down. If he was going to be stupid she'd help him be stupid as long as it wasn't destructively stupid. "Fourth century."

"BCE."

"Right. No new animals discovered, no monsters, no mythical beings. No exploring new lands and finding some great toxic miasma or curse that didn't seem to do anything until people started keeling over."

"I'd prefer you didn't phrase it that way," he said with a look of reproach over his shoulder, "But yes."

"Okay, so put a pin in that. Maybe there's something there you missed, maybe there isn't. But until fresh intel comes in, you're grasping at straws. You said it only affects the powerful."

"Yes." He pulled out a file, a list of known cases of the sleeping sickness arranged by approximate date, his own mother the last name on the list. "Almost all of them were from pillar houses, a few from extra houses. All of them powerful figures."

"What about him?" she asked, leaning over his shoulder and pointing at a name. "Shaldobar Dekra, bloody hell you devils and your names. He was a middle class devil, wasn't he?"

"Yes," Lelouch allowed. "But he was also a rising figure in the underworld at the time. A hero in the Great War, he had dealt the fallen some key defeats that pushed them back, expanding our territory in the underworld. He wasn't personally powerful but–" The Bael heir stopped mid-sentence. "He wasn't personally powerful. He was a tactician, a political figure but he didn't have the demonic power of a high class devil. He doesn't fit the pattern! I assumed it might have affected him because he moved in high society for his class but..." He had ruled out any method of social transmission or expensive resources. Anything he could think of had existed before the fourth century BCE or didn't exist until well after that. "Why him?"

He wasn't powerful. He didn't fit the pattern in that sense.

Not powerful... But influential. He made an impact and as only a middle class devil. That was rare. Most were promoted once they began to matter. Even so, it wasn't unheard of. There were others. But something told him he was on to something. All of the sufferers being high class also meant almost all of them were from pillar houses. They were all people who mattered in a larger context. And the fact that so few ultimate class had suffered, it suggested high levels of demonic power was a hindrance more than a help. He had been looking at this backwards!

Then... If it couldn't affect those who were too personally powerful, and it was exclusively affecting those of political power, influence and importance...

It wasn't a disease. It had never been a disease. It was enemy action.

Why Shaldobar? What made him so significant compared to all the other middle class devils who had influence above their station? What made him worthy of being targeted? He helped devils secure the underworld against the fallen... But they wouldn't do this. Politically it made no sense. They would have started before the Great War and continued into the present day, even through the end of the Great War when they were worse off than either the devils or the angels by the end of it.

Securing the underworld. For devils.

And it began in the fourth century BCE, right around the time devils were gaining a measure of dominance in the underworld.

"Lelouch?" Kallen asked warily. "Your hands are shaking. You don't need me to punch you again, do you?"

The Bael heir took a deep, steadying breath. He knew. After all of his toil and study and all of that time wasted on Zekram, he finally understood. And it rendered him furious. "Kallen. I need you to procure several substances for me."

-(-)-

A/N: This chapter seen early by my generous supporters on THE GREAT FORBIDDEN P! Fear the P! Love the P!