The sun rose over Area Eleven. Another day had begun and the Kawaguchi incident was resolved.

While most of those involved got some well-deserved rest however, Princess Cornelia was still awake. She could not stop until she knew how Zero did it. Yet despite the many pieces she moved, all her sources came up empty.

All except one, the most unexpected of the lot.

"You mean to tell me he did not kill the guards when every other witness agrees that he did?" Cornelia asked. Her question was calm, curt even, but bore no heat. She did not have the energy to waste it on anger.

Euphemia's aide squirmed under Cornelia's hard stare. The younger princess still filed paperwork about the incident at her desk, carefully not looking at them. It was only them and Gilbert now; the girl had not spoken up before they were alone.

"Y-Yes, your highness," she confirmed shakily, well aware how ludicrous her account sounded. "I don't know why they would all just agree. Zero came in declaring he did it, that is all. I know what I saw."

Cornelia wanted to brush the girl off, already certain she was trying to curry favour while near an imperial princess. And yet, be it her unsuccessful hunt for clues or the time, curiousity won out.

"Very well, I will indulge you. What did happen in that room last night?"

The aide bowed her head, momentarily hiding her face by a chocolate brown fringe. "Thank you very much, your highness. There was a girl in a wheelchair at the conference, with the students you interviewed personally."

She vaguely remembered such a girl being there, but the details eluded her. Cornelia nodded, though her incredulity grew. "You mean to tell me a cripple killed six armed men?"

The younger woman cringed upon realising how it sounded when put that way. She nodded nonetheless. "Yes, your highness. It all happened so fast I couldn't tell much, but I think the terrorists' weapons jammed. She, the girl, she had a pistol hidden in her wheelchair. And she drew it when the terrorists started manhandling one of the other students."

It sounded like hogwash from start to finish. Cornelia's brows were knitted together as she ran through this proposed timeline. Six weapon jams, five or four if she was generous and said the first victims were surprised. That was unrealistic to begin with, even ignoring the lack of corroborating sources. Then again, the devil's luck did exist; Cornelia had it a few times in the field, perhaps this girl had too.

"And you are certain this is what you saw?" she asked instead, prompting another nod.

"Yes, your highness."

"You stay with this even against all other witnesses?"

"Y-Yes, your highness."

Now there was some hesitation, but she did not take it back. Cornelia could appreciate her willingness to go against the grain. This woman was not stupid, else she would not have become Euphie's aide, no matter how temporary. Digging in her heels on a lie like this was the height of stupidity.

This one may be loony, but she was not selfish.

Gilbert cleared his throat then, prompting both women to turn his way. He pushed up his glasses, then nodded to Euphie. "Perhaps her highness will be able to corroborate the young lady's words?"

His suggestion had their eyes wander to Euphie, who kept filling out her form. The way she did not react to his prompt could be focus. But once it was finished, Euphie picked up the next one instead of facing them. Cornelia's eyes narrowed at that. She knew her sister.

"Y-Your highness?" the aide asked fearfully. Addressing royalty out of turn earned her a caustic look from Cornelia, but no more this once. The younger woman displayed abject fear, likely about being contradicted by her liege. Euphie was there with her, she must know as well as Cornelia whose word will be taken as truth.

"Euphemia."

That one word was all it took to make her sister's pen pause. Cornelia's attention bore down on her, daring the younger princess to keep ignoring her now.

Euphie closed her eyes for a moment, as if to sort her thoughts. Then she put down her work and leaned back, adopting a more regal posture; the moment she looked at them, Cornelia could tell the conflict hidden behind her calm expression. She had no idea why her sister was conflicted, though.

Before she could even ask, Euphie spoke: "Sir Guilford, may I ask you to seal the doors and windows?"

That conflict had been the first sign of something amiss. The lack of any warmth in Euphie's voice was another. She was plain business, displaying a side of her Cornelia thought she had yet to grow into. Perhaps her darling sister grew up more than she realised; Euphie had bags under her eyes from staying awake through the night, yet she clearly would not speak further until her wish was followed.

Gilbert, though surprised, only threw a quick glance to Cornelia. "Of course, Princess," he agreed once she nodded. There was no reason to disagree.

Once he made certain that every way in or out was closed, Euphie folded both of her hands on the desk. She looked between her sister and the aide, calculating.

"Ashley," she began calmly. Something in her tone made the brunette stiffen. "It normally goes without saying, but I will be explicit in this matter: what you are about to hear will not leave this room under any circumstances."

She brooked no argument and Ashley agreed with the barest hint of a stutter. Being able to scare her that much with simple professionalism impressed Cornelia. However, Euphie was not done with her yet. She offered a kindly smile next.

"Your current position will become permanent for as long as your lips are sealed."

Now this was unusual. Cornelia decided to overlook Ashley's surprised squeak and joyful tears, those were to be expected. No, her attention lay solely on her sister. Proud though she was, she still needed to know what was so important to make Euphie use the carrot and the stick.

Euphie glanced between them for a moment, well aware of Cornelia's curiousity. She allowed herself a little sigh and continued speaking. Still primarily to Ashley, but now they got to the matter at hand.

"I have a number of thoughts on the incident," she led slowly. "The main reason I believe most claimed Zero as their saviour is embarassment at being saved by a disabled child. I imagine you understand my reasoning, Ashley."

This prompted a sad nod from the aide and an arched brow from Cornelia. Euphie noticed it right away and elaborated gracefully: "Ashley here is of mixed heritage. Her father is Britannian and her mother Europian."

Ashley nodded again, this time ducking her head in fear of her response. Cornelia studied her once more, quietly surprised; she had no idea. The woman looked like a model Britannian.

"I see," she finally said, then brushed it off. This was Euphie's aide and thus Euphie's problem now. "So you confirm that it was this girl who killed the terrorists?"

Her sister nodded, though more gravely than Cornelia could understand. She knew some piece of the puzzle was still missing, yet she also saw her sister was ready to clamp up again. She needed to pry her open with care, this sounded too important to ignore.

"And why is it that you are so apprehensive about it?" she coaxed, voice almost gentle in an attempt to reassure Euphie. "If she is an Ashford student, then we can easily find her."

"But we will not."

It came without hesitation, giving Cornelia pause. She stared back at her sister, well aware of Euphie's resolute expression.

"Pardon?"

She was more than a little confused now. It sounded like Euphie did not speak up because she tried to protect some random girl. This would fit with her gentle nature, but Cornelia could not agree. Yet with how serious her sister looked, she felt there was still more to it.

"The reason not a word I speak here will leave this room is this girl," she said quietly but with intent. "It was Nunnally, I recognised her just like she recognised me."

The revelation kept Cornelia staring dumbly. All thoughts were halted by hearing this impossibility.

Euphie paid no mind to her state, she used the momentary silence to continue her rhetoric: "Which is also why Millicent and I did our best to keep between her and any cameras. The Ashfords are protecting her."

Everything began to make sense now. She still had trouble believing it, but Cornelia was too well trained to keep acting like a fish out of water. She spoke slowly, finishing the thought her sister started: "And where Nunnally is, Lelouch will be as well."

A horrible suspicion began to fester in her mind as she said it. Zero did not fall for her bait in Saitama, yet he dropped everything and killed an entire terrorist battlegroup on his own when Nunnally was involved. Was it a coincidence? Could it be him?

Ashley looked between the sisters, unable to understand the significance of what was said. Gilbert seemed lost as well, though he slowly worked it out. He, too, remembered their favourite half-siblings.

Cornelia could not help it: a rare, honest smile broke through her stoic mask.

"But this is good news, Euphie! We finally found them, now we-" "No."

The immediate refusal had her smile falter. Euphie now looked at her with a severity they hardly ever had for each other. "Stop and think, sister," she implored. "They have not contacted us even once in all these years, so they clearly do not want to be found."

And she was right.

The thought sent a pang of pain through Cornelia's chest; she always cared for those two, yet they clearly did not trust her. Or perhaps it was Lelouch alone making the choice to stay hidden. Nunnally's situation was always precarious, so she could see the wisdom. It hurt nonetheless, for her little brother to believe her untrustworthy.

But Euphie was still correct. Dragging them back could not be what they wished, else they would have revealed themselves before.

The silence stretched between them. Cornelia was at a loss for what to say, Euphemia simply glad she got through to her sister. Ashley remained plain confused, but knew better than to speak up. Cornelia still noticed her, which pushed her mind onto another track.

Having the woman silenced was the prudent choice in this matter. At the same time, Euphie already took good care of the situation; being a half-breed, chances were good that Ashley was overlooked for promotion several times already. Yet she still worked her way into a high enough position to be assigned Euphie's aide. Unless one already knew that she saw something she should not have, nobody would think to offer her enough to even consider squandering this chance to keep the position.

Thinking of half-breeds brought her back to Zero's speech, though. He declared to fight injustice and corruption instead of Britannia as a whole. Knowing this was Lelouch, she had to wonder now: was this a veiled message to her?

Tired though she was, Cornelia began to pace with a pronounced frown. Her second wind began to hit as well, which helped clear her thoughts. What was she to do with this, and how could she do so without causing undue attention?

A glance to Euphie showed that she went back to her paperwork. Seeing that her sister seemed ready to keep going, Cornelia caught Ashley's uncertain gaze and made a sharp nod toward the younger princess. The aide understood, almost leaping to support Euphemia.

Meanwhile, Cornelia continued to think over those last few revelations. She had a good guess where her siblings were, what with Nunnally being right next to the Ashford heiress. They remained hidden for seven long years despite all attempts to find them, meaning they were cautious. Chances were that any attempt of hers to reach out would cause them to flee. It hurt to admit, but she could not allow sentimentality to cloud her vision.

However, Zero only revealed himself recently. If he was Lelouch, which she had no trouble believing, then something made him act when he did. And his first act was to slay Clovis, his half-brother. That said a lot about his conviction, but it also confirmed this latest speech held a message.

Furthermore, she reasoned, they must have made preparations over the years; material, contacts, supporters.

That was when it hit her, so obvious she could not believe she missed it: Jeremiah Gottwald.

Her pacing stopped abruptly. Cornelia turned to the door, her curt mask back in place. "Gilbert, with me," she ordered. "There is some more business I need to see to."

It was tempting to tell Euphie to get some rest. At the same time, Cornelia felt her sister would not listen right now. So she simply left, foregoing any semblance of polite goodbyes; none were needed when in private. Euphie kept working as Cornelia walked out.

Quick steps carried her down the viceroy's palace to the VIP holding cells. Nobody dared bar her passage, nor did they refuse her the records.

According to those records, Gottwald had not been out since his detainment after the encounter with Zero. His outgoing correspondence was monitored, but contained not even a hint of unlawful activity.

"Is his cell being monitored?" she asked of the warden, who shook her head.

"No, your highness. Members of the nobility have a right to at least that much privacy. Although Marquess Gottwald agreed to a bi-weekly sweep for any contraband. He has been a model inmate and made no trouble whatsoever."

She quietly acknowledged the other woman's words and moved on to meet the man himself.

The warden escorted her and Gilbert, then announced the marquess's visitor without actually telling her name. They were let in a minute later.

Cornelia took deep satisfaction from the way Gottwald's carefully polite facade faltered completely, about as soon as he realised who came to speak with him. She also recalled a similar if more youthful face; a freshly graduated soldier taking a knee before her, just like he did now.

"Y-Your highness! Please forgive my shoddy state, I did not expect anyone of your station!"

He was dressed in dark slacks and a white button-up shirt. Both were clean and ironed, his blue hair dressed immaculately. The faint scent of a tart cologne hit Cornelia's nose as well. This man knew what he was doing, she had to give him this much.

"Rise, Marquess. I have a few questions for you."

"Yes, your highness. May I offer you a seat?"

Cornelia nodded, but turned to address the warden before sitting: "You may leave. I do not wish to be interrupted."

An affirmative later, they were alone. Gottwald carefully pushed out a chair at the mahogany table for her, acting the perfect gentleman. Gilbert took position behind her as usual, a quiet observer until needed. His presence did not outwardly affect Gottwald though; the marquess showed no sign of nervousness.

"I hear you have been obedient in custody," she began their dance. "Nothing like that slip of yours."

Gottwald lowered his head in what appeared to be shame. "Yes, your highness. I still do not understand what came over me that night. Whatever punishment was decided on, I will accept."

Her brow twitched, but she carefully schooled her expression. He seemed so ready to accept punishment, as if truly contrite.

"What is 'orange'?" she asked next. Cornelia had an inkling what it could mean; the fact Gottwald immediately denied all knowledge only reinforced that belief. "This room is not monitored, Jeremiah. Not a word spoken in here will find its way outside. I need the truth."

He did not miss that she used his first name. It gave him pause, eyes narrowing ever so faintly. He clearly understood that she knew something, but he did not give an answer yet.

"If memory serves, you were one of mine under Empress Marianne," she probed further. Even just saying her mentor's name made her heart ache. "I remember your dedication to guarding her and her children. I remember that you were the most fervent in finding her killer."

A simple nod was all she got in response. Gottwald's expression was carefully smoothed out, his hand trembling ever so slightly. He barely stopped it from clenching into a fist. She was on the right track.

"Tell me, hypothetically, if you had to choose between the wellbeing of his majesty and the vi Britannia line, which would you pick?"

It was a crass scenario, surprising both men in the room. But it was the ultimate question all the same. Gottwald carefully weighed his options for a minute, now openly meeting her gaze. The time for posturing was over.

"Answering your question, your highness, even in hypothetical, would be high treason," he explained calmly. "I beg your forgiveness for refusing to do so."

The way he phrased it made Cornelia's lips curl up ever so faintly. He gave her the truth without tangibly incriminating himself, which was worthy of recognition. Now she knew he was one of their allies, too.

"Very well. You will be released tomorrow and return to your previous duties. If anyone dares to accost you upon the matter, refer them to me directly."

The non-sequitur brought Gottwald up short. She could tell he did not expect this outcome even without his confused "Your highness?".

Then he bowed his head, however.

"Yes, your highness."

Cornelia made to stand in response. She was pleased that she found a solution to the conundrum.

"Once you have settled back into your work, I have a task for you."

"Of course, your highness. Anything."

She accepted his agreement with a nod, then allowed Gottwald to kiss her knuckles in lieu of a goodbye.

She left swiftly afterward, Gilbert trailing after her; a single glance at his unreadable expression was all the invitation he needed to speak his mind: "Was this wise? He all but admitted to treasonous thoughts."

"And yet he is theirs," Cornelia answered softly. "His loyalty remains steadfast even after all these years."

Gilbert grabbed her arm, effectively stopping Cornelia halfway down the hallway. There was nobody but them.

"Cornelia," he said intently. "I must point out that what you are doing is dangerous to the extreme. The consequences will be catastrophic if this blows up; not just for you, but for the entirety of your line."

Her brow furrowed in response. She did not follow where such a risk lay.

"How do you mean that?"

Gilbert grimaced in response, then glanced around. Upon ensuring there was still nobody to overhear, he leaned in and whispered into her ear: "In your enthusiasm to hear of their survival, you completely forgot to ask yourself what they plan to do. What is it they feel? Where lie their goals?"

He pulled back, but the tone of his words kept Cornelia still. He was right. But more than that, he was scared. Her steadfast knight, an elevated member of her family, veteran of a dozen campaigns, was scared.

He did not say that Lelouch and Nunnally were connected to Zero, but Cornelia knew he thought it just like she did. And with his question asked, she herself grew pale. The answer Gottwald gave now rang in her ears with a new, sinister shade. Cornelia mouthed the words 'High treason?', but did not dare speak them.

"You believe this?" she finally made herself ask.

Gilbert responded with a light shake of the head, though. "This is the worst case I estimate. I do not know what to believe just yet."

The situation as a whole, this entire conundrum, only brought back her burning desire to see them in person. Cornelia felt a pressing need to know what they were planning. A rebel against Britannia could have more than one purpose after all; even if he cried justice, it would be his majesty the emperor he saw as the root cause of all evil. And to him this may as well be true.

Cornelia allowed herself a defeated moan. A gloved hand ran through her purple hair as she thought of what to do. "We need more time to figure this out. See to it that Gottwald is not impeded, but have someone monitor his work environment. I want to know when his relations with the other Purists return to normal. We will take the meantime to investigate that little hint he gave us and see how much is there to the allegations of corruption."

"Yes, your highness."

Gilbert smiled faintly as he said this, seeing how his princess finally returned to normal. Cornelia nodded back, feeling content with the decision she reached.

"And now for breakfast."

Now he actually chuckled, the order little different from a call to charge. They both got going, their professionalism back in place as soon as they came by people.

Meanwhile, back in his cell, Jeremiah Gottwald slowly worked through the whiplash this conversation caused him.

Not only did he get off his monumental failure scot-free, he somehow gained Princess Cornelia's favour without actually doing anything.

A lesser man would not look this gift horse in the mouth. Jeremiah was not a lesser man, though. He smelled a rat; another setup, maybe a fallman for some of her own machinations. Then again, she absolutely meant to tell him something there, but the most clear interpretation was impossible.

Or was it?

Wonder stilled Jeremiah's motions. An old pain, an old failure, but also hope.

He slowly pulled out his wallet; there, hidden underneath a picture of his late mother, he hid one of his liege. Empress Marianne, smiling sharply at the camera with little Nunnally in her lap and Prince Lelouch at her side. It was the only picture of her he still owned, a private treasure he rarely ever indulged in.

His own search for the two lost royals yielded no results all those years ago. The official investigation found no trace of them, either. They were declared dead instead of missing, which never sat well with him. No bodies recovered, no closure. Only despair at his renewed failure, then hatred for the Elevens that must have taken them from this world.

Except if they truly killed them, would they not have gleefully displayed their retaliation? The many terrorists certainly did not shy away from hurting children.

It was a thought he did not entertain in years. Now however, he heard those words from Princess Cornelia herself; the former captain of Marianne's royal guard and favourite half-sister of her children. She came and prodded about his loyalties to them, then promised release and duty upon a positive.

It could be bait, a lure based on his past affiliations. But his working to the top of the Purist faction signalled to the world that he cast it off; even his closest confidantes thought his allegiance to the commoner empress a thing of the past.

The implications her highness made all pointed to the young prince and princess being alive, regardless how impossible.

A tear dropped onto the picture, quickly wiped away. It was the only one Jeremiah allowed himself.

His fervour faded over the years, turning to naught but embers. Now they sparked, roaring with a passion he almost forgot. Jeremiah nearly crushed his wallet, suddenly filled with a need to find his liege. His task was not over, he could still make things right.

He did not know why it was now of all times that he was let in on the secret. Princess Cornelia must have kept it for a long time after all. But he understood that he was needed. And if they needed him, if even just one of them survived, then it was by their side he would stand.

And if it was some cruel trick after all, her highness would suffer the consequences.

Jeremiah stood, carefully replacing the picture in his wallet. Then he took long strides to the study area of his 'cell'. Pen and paper were taken out of drawers, a half-written correspondence discarded for later.

He also pulled out a lighter, helpfully provided in case Jeremiah smoked. Everyone knew he did not smoke, of course. It would fulfill its actual purpose once more.

Writing notes helped order his thoughts, but nobody could know. Every trace of them would be burned away once he was done; it would not be the first clandestine sheet he destroyed over the month he was imprisoned.

Eyes narrowed, Jeremiah got to work. He would need everything he recalled to identify where they might be. He would find them, no matter what.

He would not fail again.