Area 11, Viceroy's Palace…

Several hours had passed since Princess Euphemia had finished with the media… and despite her earlier assurances to the contrary, in the end she'd still ended up keeping Suzaku until well after sunset; partly for her own comfort and security, and partly because the tasks she had wanted his help with genuinely took far longer than expected.

He hadn't complained, of course. Although Euphie hoped it wasn't just because of the difference in their social statuses or the chain of command. "I didn't mean to keep you so late, Suzaku; but I can't thank you enough for everything you've done."

"Don't worry about it," he said with a face betraying his mixed feelings. "I need to get back to Camelot for debriefing anyway…"

"...Oh, Suzaku – could I ask one last thing before you go?"

"Hm?"

"Lelouch and Nunnally, they… the official story is they were murdered by local forces during the invasion, but a part of me always believed that was nothing more than the Emperor's propaganda."

Euphie swallowed, dreading how the young man might respond but unable to bear not knowing at all. "It's not… can it really be true?"

She watched Suzaku, as his expression became haunted before he turned for the door. "...we wound up parting ways during the invasion, so I couldn't tell you what happened to them after that. I'm sorry."

So even Suzaku doesn't know for certain, and he's been carrying this same pain for all this time just like I have… "I understand," she said after a shaky breath. "Thank you, all the same."

An awkward, painful silence followed for several seconds until Suzaku spoke up again. "I'll never forget the look on Lelouch's face when Britannia invaded."

A crack formed in Euphemia's heart as she imagined what he must have been thinking. Even after the Emperor exiled Lelouch and Nunnally to this land, to have turned and launched an invasion without regard for their lives at all… how must they have grieved? "What did he say?"

Suzaku finally turned back to meet her eyes, and the crack in Euphie's heart widened into a break at what she saw.

"Suzaku, I swear to you. I will… obliterate Britannia!"

…Lelouch must have already run out of tears to shed, she realized, Suzaku's expression almost like a mirror of her brother's ghost. All he had left was hate and rage.

An instant later, the fact she was even having this discussion with Suzaku registered and threw her for a loop. "I, I think I understand… but then, can I ask what led you to join the Britannian military?"

Suzaku blinked and hesitated, seeming to stumble over his thoughts for a moment. "It's because… well, that's–"

Suzaku let out an explosive sigh. "...even back then, I understood Lelouch's anger and his want for revenge against the Emperor. And if that were the extent of it, I might not be here today. But… I could tell he meant what he said. Lelouch had the full intention to someday destroy everything about Britannia and purge it from the Earth – not too unlike what the Emperor's doing with the Area system. As time passed, I realized… if the government and military are destroyed outright, then who's there to protect regular citizens from the former Empire's enemies?"

Euphiemia blinked. "That's–"

"Britannia isn't a democracy like the EU or like Japan used to be," he explained unnecessarily, foot tapping in agitation. "Nobody asked Charles zi Britannia to assume the throne, he just murdered his way into power until no one left had the means or will to oppose him. I don't agree that the general public should be punished just for living in a society controlled by a tyrant. Unless someone's interested in actually working to establish peace, crippling or destroying Britannia at this point would just open the floodgates of bloodlust and revenge; it'd probably just turn one of the Areas into a new 'Britannia' to take its place. For those reasons, in the big picture I think it's better to change the Empire through internal means and steer it onto a different course."

Princess Euphemia considered what Suzaku said for several seconds, and held up a hand when he started to attempt an apology or retraction of his statement as her direct office line buzzed. "Suzaku, I… don't know that I have the words to convey how much I appreciate you trusting me enough to say what you think. Please be careful on your way back to Camelot."

Already making for the door, Suzaku offered a wave without looking back. "Yeah. See you next time, Euphie."

Euphemia watched the door for a few seconds after he'd left, pursing her lips. He didn't promise me that he'd take care of himself, just that we'd meet again. At least he's getting more casual…

Unable to put it off any further, she then answered the incoming video call. "...my dearest apologies for the wait, General li Britannia. I realize I've kept you all day."

"Euphemia, you're bandaged."

Euphie almost immediately wished that she hadn't just dismissed her newfound confidant. "When we flew through the wall to take over the newsroom, I hit my head against the side of the cockpit; fortunately, Sir Kururugi had insisted I wear a helmet. I've been thoroughly examined by our best medical experts and determined to have only suffered a small cut."

It wouldn't have killed Cornelia to show some relief at the news. Instead, the fierce general furrowed her brow. "Why did you go to Area Eleven behind my back?"

Euphie swallowed, and she hated how weak the instinct made her feel. "Because I knew it was the only chance I'd ever have to stand for myself."

"DAMN IT EUPHIE, YOU FOOLISH CHILD, DO YOU REALIZE HOW MUCH DANGER YOU'RE IN RIGHT NOW?!"

And there she is, Euphemia grimly thought. "I–"

In her command tent, General Cornelia slammed a fist onto her desk. "Euphie if you raise your head now, do you understand that I can't protect you?! Not from halfway around the world! Don't tell me you've forgotten what he did to Merrybell?! To Lelouch and Nunnally?!"

The words hit Euphemia like a slap in the face, as they had doubtless been meant to. Before this, she'd always caved. What other choice could there be? Cornelia was older, after all. Wiser, stronger, and she always had been. Britannia's invincible Goddess of Victory who'd never seen defeat.

…that was before Euphie felt she had someone who'd take her side no matter what.

"How dare you?"

Euphemia's anger was so unexpected that it actually brought Cornelia up short. "...excuse me?"

"How dare you accuse me of forgetting what our father did to them?! I couldn't if I wanted to, not when you bring it up every time I try to be more than your little pet doll in a cage!"

Of course, now that it had become a fight, Cornelia was more than prepared to rally. "I keep bringing it up because you keep behaving as though I need to! This isn't a game, if you step far enough out of line, he'd even send the Knights of the Round to make an example out of you! I wouldn't… don't you understand that even I won't be able to protect you if it comes to that?! We've already lost Lelouch and Nunnally… and now even Clovis! I can't lose you too!"

"..."

Bitter, desperate tears fell and hit Cornelia's desk.

I felt suffocated in her arms for so long, Euphemia thought. I'd almost lost sight of how much pain and grief she was in.

"Euphie, listen to me. I know that you don't have it in you to crush the rebels that stole our brother from us, and… honestly, I doubt that even Schneizel will expect you to. I'll work out an arrangement with him to come and take over as Viceroy as soon as possible. All you have to do until I get there is tread water and stay safe without making any further waves. Just… just protect and maintain Clovis's status quo until I can arrive and protect you."

Euphie took a deep breath, eyes closed as her hands clenched into fists beneath her desk. You want me to sit down, be pretty, and stay out of the way while an entire territory rots from the inside until you can come in and start spilling blood in a wild-eyed quest for revenge.

"If we attempted it, what would you say are our chances of success?"

"Fifty-fifty."

"That high?!"

"...either it works, or it doesn't. If there are only two outcomes, then-"

Euphemia opened her eyes, and for the first time in their relationship Cornelia met steel. "My apologies, General, but what you ask of me is completely out of the question. My late predecessor has a great deal to answer for; corruption, dereliction of duty… and there are allegations of illegal weapons research that require investigation. World knows what else may be found out as we go along. As Viceroy, my responsibility to my subjects is to address his wrongs and restore the citizens' faith and trust in the government… no matter how brief or temporary my role as such may be."

"You– you reckless, naive child!"

Cornelia again punched her desk. "Whatever Clovis may or may not have been involved in, you of all people aren't ready to fix it! You have no real experience, no one to guide you… you don't even have a Knight of Honor to protect you!"

Euphemia didn't remark that originally she'd have been learning the ropes from Clovis as his Sub-Viceroy. "I'm keenly aware of my own capabilities," she said instead, gears turning in her mind. "But you shouldn't be so arrogant as to believe that you're the only person that I can rely on."

"Euphemia, don't you dare–"

Euphie laughed as her sister's voice was silent, the call screen blank. "I can't believe I just hung up on my sister!"

And then the Princess's moment of triumph almost immediately felt like ash in her mouth as she reprocessed what she'd just done and said. "...I can't believe I just hung up on my sister."

It would have been nice to spend a few minutes lamenting what their relationship had become, but unfortunately Euphemia had to prioritize. "Need to speak with Schneizel before she's able to…!"

As an Area administrator, Euphemia had given direct access to the Prime Minister. Urgently making the call, she prayed that her seconds of hesitation hadn't cost her. Eden Vital, I beg of you – don't let Cornelia have gotten to him first!

Seconds ticked by, a dial tone the only answer to her silent plea.

"Please…!"

The dial tone stopped, and Euphemia's heart sank… only for the desk monitor to come alive as Schneizel el Britannia blinked into existence upon it. "My office received contact from Cornelia's number the instant before yours," he said with a smile. "But something told me our newest Viceroy merited the first response."

Euphie all but collapsed into her chair in relief. "Big brother, I need you to stop Cornelia from coming to Area Eleven. Not forever, but at least long enough to start an investigation and recovery process that her duties as Viceroy will obligate her to continue when she takes over."

Schneizel leaned forward at his desk, a contemplative look on his face. "I imagine she's going to insist on quite the opposite, Euphemia… and while I do wish to support you, she will be quite right in pointing out that you aren't prepared to assume the full responsibilities of a Viceroy. Loath as I am to foster bad blood among my siblings, at times like this I need to act in the best interests of the Empire. Of course," he said with a wave of his hand, "you understand that perfectly well."

Of course, Euphemia mentally echoed him as she straightened up and put on her game face. We're administrators right now, not siblings. "Prime Minister, may I respectfully thank you to refrain from implying that I would do anything less?"

Schneizel raised an eyebrow and smiled, saying nothing in response but inviting her to make her case.

"We're both… keenly aware of what General Cornelia is like. Though she has the qualifications and leadership experience for the position, she is not by trade nor inclination a diplomat. Notwithstanding her personal attachment to me, her first, second, and third priorities will be to purge the Area of rebel forces in the name of avenging my predecessor."

Leaning back and steepling his fingers, Schneizel made a brief show of contemplating her words. "I'm aware of your distaste for violence, Euphemia, but I know very few people who would criticize your sister for liberating an Area of its terrorist insurgents."

"Be that as it may," Euphemia argued, "I have grave concerns that her tunnel vision will lead her to downplay or even outright dismiss the potential security threats we already face until after it's too late. Furthermore, too many of the battlefields here are civilian population centers."

An eyebrow slightly hiked up on the screen. "You think our Goddess of Victory's so heartless as to blindly exterminate her enemies without regard for any civilians who may be caught in the crossfire?"

"Of course not, but I worry that her… drive may cause her to neglect matters of civilian morale and public relations in her strategic planning." Euphemia pursed her lips. "...and we both know that neither the General, nor almost anyone else who might take her place, will concern themselves overmuch with indigenous civilian casualties, despite the common sense that such will only galvanize rebel forces into fighting that much harder."

Schneizel let out a hum in reply, gazing at his younger sister as if he could see right through her. After a few moments, he offered a kind smile. "You're getting better at framing your arguments, Euphemia."

"Then…?"

"I have every expectation that Cornelia will defeat the Middle Easter Federation in a matter of days, particularly given how… motivated she must be under the current circumstances. From there, establishing the new Area Eighteen may require up to a week," he continued. "And she will be deployed with her forces to Area Eleven afterward. The most I can promise you is two weeks to establish your policies, Viceroy."

Two weeks. In the political world, that span of time could at once be the blink of an eye and an eternity. And Euphemia's circumstances were forcing her to devise her plans on the fly. Then I'll need to take drastic measures. "You have my gratitude, Prime Minister. In light of the circumstances, I also wish to formally request the services and cooperation of Camelot for my purposes. Frankly I have little cause to place my trust in the Area's conventional chain of command."

Schneizel leaned towards his monitor, the ghost of a laugh escaping his lips. "And by promoting the Honorary pilot as an extension of your influence, you believe you can offer him as the symbol of a changing era for the Elevens."

Of course, such an overt association with the Prime Minister's weapons development group would also link her stance with his in the public consciousness. It would allow Euphemia to borrow some of the White Prince's credibility with the citizenry until she could better establish herself – but that same association would also restrict her actions and conduct to those that would reflect well on him. To say nothing of the very real debt that she would owe him for such a favor.

A genuine double-edged sword of Damocles hanging over her head.

I fought so hard to get out from behind Cornelia's skirt so I could stand on my own, Euphemia thought. Only Eden knows what Schneizel may expect of me in return. "A symbol that will only be meaningful," she pointed out, "if, indeed I am permitted to change the era. A fresh coat of paint can make what's broken look like new, but alone it fixes nothing and is little more than waste."

Schneizel narrowed his eyes, peering at Euphemia closely even as he kept a likely furious Cornelia on hold. He and Clovis had agreed to install the young Princess in Area Eleven as a chance to get her feet wet in controlled circumstances, and now life had thrown her into the deep end of the pool. That much certainly wasn't Euphemia's fault, but it remained true that she was asking for a great deal – not only power, but a long enough leash to flex it and enough time to start a legacy.

Schneizel closed his eyes, indulging in a short moment of theater to keep Euphie in suspense while he envisioned the state of the world as a chessboard. In truth, he'd already made his decision about his sister's request the instant she had given it.

"All right, Euphie, let's discuss what you have in mind."

The girl, relieved by his kind and brotherly smile, eagerly opened up to her brother as a white pawn moved two spaces forward.

Prison Complex…

"LET ME OUT! YOU'VE GOT THE WRONG MAN!"

At the end of the corridor hall, a guard seated at a table glanced at his shift partner who had remained standing along the wall. "By Eden," he complained in annoyance while tapping some ashes from his cigarette into a tray, "I'm sick of listening to this. Nobody'd mind if we gave the big baby a five-finger pacifier, right?"

The prisoner's desperate howls had been carrying through the cell corridor for the last several minutes, and both guards had long since grown weary of trying to ignore or silence their charge without violence.

"Hm… better not," the standing guard replied as a bang fell over her eyes. "Lord Gottwald should be coming to question him any time now. While I doubt there's any concern for the prisoner's health, it's gonna reflect poorly on us if he has any difficulty in immediately starting the interrogation. We're better off just sucking it up and dealing with it, no matter how much of a pain in the ass it is."

The seated guard thought for a long moment about remarking on just how talented his coworker was at sucking up after a pain in the ass… and then remembered the lingering bruise on his jaw from when she'd decked him for similar comments that morning before. "Nothing like a real bitch to take all the fun out of your smoke break," he lamented with a sigh.

The standing guard had just opened her mouth to ask exactly who her partner was referring to when a door at the other end flew open and she immediately snapped off a salute. "Lord Gottwald!"

The seated guard wasted no time in joining his cohort to stand at attention with a salute, even as he stubbornly forced a greeting out from around his cigarette. "Mah Lohd!"

Jeremiah stared at the two as he met their salute, staring at the smoking guard until he broke into a sweat. These aren't military police, he noted with the barest glance at their uniforms. Even the woman's shirt had a button missing over her chest, and some questionable stains on her pants. They're ghetto-district beat cops… the same people we've been underfunding for the last several years in favor of prioritizing the Knightpolice and military.

Jeremiah's eyes darkened as he recalled the secret medical experimentation Prince Clovis had apparently been involved with, and could only imagine the kind of resources that were likely embezzled for it. An instant later, he caught the resentment in the guards' eyes, barely hidden by their respect of his authority and fear of what he may do after catching them in less than pristine condition to meet him.

"I'm aware that you must have been summoned here on short notice and that the times are stressful," he sternly began, "and that you may be used to far looser standards than would otherwise be expected of you."

Whether that came from hard luck or their own laziness was irrelevant. "You've doubtless heard that countless opportunities for advancement are opening up as we speak. If I were you, I might be thinking of how to prepare myself for claiming them."

Warning delivered, Jeremiah dismissed the pair with a salute and then stood alone in a cell corridor full of former subordinates and comrades agitated by his coming. A mass of humanity screaming in betrayal and confusion, demanding answers for the fate had befallen them.

For two minutes, Jeremiah Gottwald stood in silence with his head bowed, as their anger and shock washed over him in waves. Paying his respects to their service together, honoring the loyalty and dedication they had shown him up to this point… it was the very least he could do.

With his duty to the crown, it was also the most he could do. Had I known of Her Highness's coming, perhaps this could have been avoided. At the very least, the wholly ignorant could have been separated from those who knowingly and willfully dared to raise a weapon against the Princess… no, never mind. Even among the many who may have been ignorant of Princess Euphemia's presence today, I'm sure there are countless more of the treasonous worms infesting the Blood-Purists. Better to purge the lot entirely and let them be sorted in Eden Vital.

And then the moment had passed, as he resumed walking to the isolation chamber at the end. To the prisoner who aggrieved Jeremiah Gottwald like no other, and for whom absolutely no sympathy could be found. "Kewell Soresi! I hope you know why you're here."

"Is that… Lord Jeremiah, it's you! At long last, we can put this misunderstanding to rest and start a manhunt for the real scourge behind this!"

For a man in prison, Kewell certainly seemed to be in fine spirits. Although if he'd been languishing in some delusion of innocence, then Jeremiah was certainly about to wake him from it.

He'd taken no pleasure in coming down here, and Kewell's pleading expression only pissed him off. Enough so that he drew a baton from the nearby table and slammed it into the cell door for emphasis. "WHAT KIND OF FOOL DO YOU TAKE ME FOR?! You attempted regicide, you craven cur – and it galls me that we have an Eleven to thank for stopping you!"

Even among Britannia's proud ranks, many lesser soldiers would have flinched and cowered before Jeremiah Gottwald's wrath. Kewell Soresi stormed right up to the bars, every bit matching the Margrave's heated passion with his own. "EVIDENTLY THE KIND OF FOOL WHO BELIEVES FOR AN INSTANT THAT I WOULD DO ANY SUCH THING! How long have we served together, my Lord?!"

We have the combat recordings from multiple Knightmares that prove his guilt beyond any doubt, Jeremiah recalled with a harsh gaze. So how on Earth can it be that his eyes do not lie?!

"Not twelve hours ago, you were given a direct order to stand down and disarm," he pointed out. "And in response, you denounced Her Highness as an imposter and a fraud before redoubling your attempts on her life… during a fighting pursuit through a civilian population center, no less! If you were really a fraction of the man or the soldier I thought you were, then you would at least have the dignity to face your crimes against Princess Euphemia–!"

"PRINCESS EUPHEMIA, WHERE IS SHE?!"

Never in his life had Jeremiah recoiled from a foe, nor from a threat… but he felt no shame in stepping back at the sheer abruptness with which Kewell had tried to lunge through the bars for him.

"EUPHEMIA WILL LEAD OUR NATION TO ITS DOOM, MY LORD! DON'T YOU GET IT?! YOU HAVE TO LET ME OUT SO I CAN KILL HER! IT'S THE ONLY WAY TO SAVE OUR HOME!"

Jeremiah stared in horror at the deranged lost soul grasping through the bars of his cell, an almost desperate thirst for blood shining in his eyes even as tears coursed down his face. "I HAVE TO, JEREMIAH, I HAVE TO! WHY DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND?!"

What in the name of all that's holy in this world…?

"KEWELL SORESI," Jeremiah roared as he cocked back a fist, "WHERE IS YOUR COMPOSURE?!"

And with two steps forward, he weaved between Kewell's blindly grasping hands to land a haymaker, instantly silencing the man and sending him sprawling on the floor of his cell.

"Damnation," he muttered, shaking the impact out of his hand. "With a blow like that, I might have concussed him..."

Heart racing from the borderline panic of the last few seconds, Jeremiah took a few cautious steps back from the cell bars even as he peered down at his old friend. With a sigh, he started to calm himself even as the prisoner began to stir. "What is… when did I–?"

"You went into a frenzy," Jeremiah explained with a calmness he absolutely did not feel. "I had to snap you out of it."

"That's the only part of this situation that makes any sense," Kewell muttered in confusion, as he rubbed at his cheek with a wince. "If only because I can feel where you must have struck me."

At the very least, he seems to be himself again… "Are you well? Do you have any idea of what came over you?"

Kewell got to his feet with a scoff. "I confess readily that I let my frustration with this false imprisonment get the best of me… but even if my behavior was out of line," he said with an accusing scowl, "I can hardly believe you'd see fit to knock me out over it."

Jeremiah frowned as he studied his old comrade – Kewell's bearing, his speech, his expression, all for any hint of deception. It can't truly be that he only remembers what's convenient for him… can it? "...that wasn't why I struck you," he slowly replied. "Have you forgotten exactly what you did to earn your stay here?"

Kewell rolled his eyes as he started pacing in the cell, newfound patience already rapidly dwindling. "Oh come on, this attempted regicide bullshit again?! Even if you've forgotten my years of service at your side… the only member of the royal family in Area Eleven is the late Clovis," he said as if explaining something to an especially slow child. "And he died yesterday. Do you understand, My Lord?"

Turning and kicking the wall, Kewell screamed, "THERE'S NO ROYALTY FOR ME OR ANYONE ELSE TO KILL!"

Jeremiah openly stared at Kewell. This… this has to be real. He's always been too straightforward, too impatient to play an act with any kind of competence. "Then you're saying that you haven't been told about who our new Viceroy is?"

"Huh?" Kewell knew the topic was most likely a distraction or a ploy to get his mind working in some specific direction, but in spite of the past few minutes he still trusted his superior officer enough to take the bait. "I expected you'd be the Acting Consul for a week or so, up until the Homeland picks out a new Viceroy to send our way."

"Although," he continued in thought, "from what I remember of the reports on the battle in the Middle East, depending on how quickly General Cornelia mops up I figure they'll probably send her."

A moment later, he brightened. "And if that's how it turns out, it'll be a great chance to catch up with Marika again and see how she's grown the last few years. Man," he muttered with a self-deprecating chuckle, "if she knew what trouble her big brother's gotten dragged into…"

Jeremiah took another step back from the cell, gaze locked with Kewell's as he reached for his service pistol. "...the new Viceroy is already here, Kewell. It's Princess Euphemia."

"WHERE IS SHE–"

Jeremiah took aim at Kewell's forehead, throwing his full force of personality into the gesture. "If you spout so much as another word of threat to Her Highness, I will execute you on the spot."

"JEREMIAH–!"

Jeremiah turned off the safety with a distinctly audible click. "WHERE IS YOUR LOYALTY, KEWELL SORESI?!"

For an instant, the look in Kewell's eyes became clear again, before his entire body shivered and shook.

With a bone-chilling scream, the tormented prisoner threw his own head against the bars again and again until he foamed up at the mouth and passed out.

Unsettling as the experience had been, Jeremiah wasted no time in switching on his radio. "I need an emergency medical team sent to prison block Charlie 31! Prisoner is passed out and may have brain damage, but bring heavy restraints and tranquilizers in case he wakes up!"

"Yes, My Lord!"

Letting out a breath, Jeremiah gazed down at his longtime comrade… and, yes, even his friend, in confusion. Prince Clovis's clandestine human experimentation… could it have been some sort of mind control drug? The terrorists in Shinjuku would have had access to it during their attempted escape yesterday, and the stolen material was never logged as retrieved…

The Margrave re-engaged the safety and holstered his sidearm, taking a seat at the guard's table in vigil over the corridor.

Or could it be that this ghastly work is the doing of… some yet-unknown, otherworldly force?