The War of Kings [Code Geass and Fate/Stay Night Crossover]

[Pale Wolf]

Well, given the forum meltdown - new thread for War of Kings ensues. Old thread here, for reference, and what remains of prior discussion after the crash, but all story material is here.

Table of Contents
Chapter One, The Holy Grail War: Right here.
Chapter Two, To Be A Master.
Chapter Three, Marching Ever Onward To Tomorrow.
Chapter Four, Pledge to the Founding Fathers.
Chapter Five, The Knight, the King, and the Witch.
Chapter Six, The Peace Ends
Chapter Seven, Banquet of Distortion

Disclaimer: No copyright is mine, thus no copyrighted character is. If you recognize them from something that's not written by 'Pale Wolf', I have no legal claim to them.

Code Geass: The War Of Kings

By Pale Wolf

Chapter One

The Holy Grail War

~~~I========>

"Give it back!"

Lelouch 'Lamperouge' looked towards the girl's voice with a bit of a frown, chin resting in his hand.

The voice's owner was no one he knew. Young, perhaps the same age as his younger sister Nunnally. Slim, lightly-built, with long dark hair and wide blue eyes. Short black dress, black stockings, with a bright-red oversized jacket and hat thrown over it all. Japanese, if he had to guess, based on the features, but not entirely, there was a fair amount of European influence in there.

What he presumed to be 'it' was a thin gold ring, rather plain, being tossed between the upraised hands of a much taller young man - somewhat older than Lelouch himself, athletic, red hair, blue eyes, dressed in the black uniform of a Britannian academy, perhaps the local university. Probably, in fact, given it was the only major Britannian civilian presence in this city.

The girl leapt up to grasp it, but the man threw the ring overhand to a similarly-dressed blonde man - presumably a friend, laughing. "Not until you ask nicely."

The girl pursed her lips, looking up at the blonde. "P... please... it's my mother's..."

"Mm..." He tapped a finger against his cheek. "Nicer." He chuckled, leaning back against what Lelouch presumed to be their car - a rather nice gleaming-silver recent-make Arawn sports car. Probably bought by the man's father, Lelouch doubted a student made enough money for that.

"Wha...?" The girl swallowed. "... What do you want me to say...?" She muttered something under her breath.

"Geeeeh," Rivalz muttered from behind Lelouch. "Don't university students have anything better to do with their time?"

Lelouch nodded absently, drumming his slim fingers against his cheek. There was certainly no way he or Rivalz - emphasis on he - could stop this through direct physical intervention. "Like their classes."

His voice was completely devoid of sarcasm, but Rivalz got it, the wince audible in his voice. "Okay sure, we're kilometers away from school and skipping a whole day, but come on. Viscount Semnan put up a ridiculously awesome bet on his chess skills and the guy doesn't leave Fuyuki."

"Of course, Rivalz. I found it in the first place, after all." His gaze, and attention, never wavered from the scene of the bullying. He just needed to twist the factors in his head until it all came together. Ethics of mauling the older students aside, Rivalz probably wouldn't be willing to ram them with the motorcycle even if it was a rental rather than his baby, so that was off the table. Hm.

Rivalz obviously had some experience with Lelouch, because after a short pause, he shook his head. "Oh no, Lelouch, seriously, no. I don't like this either, but we'd just get the crap beat out of us, and the old man's already starting the game with Semnan. We've gotta get in there to bail him out before we lose our shot at the cash. They're not gonna hurt her, she's a kid."

An angry response boiled up to Lelouch's lips, but with long experience, he bit it back, keeping his voice at its usual mellow, disinterested tone. "We don't need that long to deal with the Viscount, Rivalz. And beyond that, the day is free time. There's simply no physical possibility of making it back to school before classes have ended, so we're in equal amounts of trouble no matter when we make it." The train ride back to the Tokyo Settlement was about three hours. Hardly a distance to make in the lunch break.

"Except not beate-oh man..." Rivalz buried his face in his hands.

The latter part was, of course, because Lelouch had slipped his long legs out of the sidecar and stood up, walking across the park towards the girl and the two men. "Excuse me."

All three turned to look at him, and as Lelouch's eyes drifted onto the ring, they widened.

Plain? Hardly. It was almost achingly beautiful, carved with the finest, most delicate of touches, with thin, elegant lettering in an ancient Germanic alphabet writing out the word 'Gift' - something preceded it, but he couldn't see it, with the redheaded oaf's fingers blocking out his view.

With such a thing, it would be easy. To make what he sought, destroy all that stood in his way. He wanted it. That ring adorning his finger as he stood astride a knightmare, moments from riding into Pendragon and stopping Britannia once and for all...

... Which was a ridiculous flight of fancy. Lelouch shook his head, refocusing his gaze. The world didn't change, no matter how hard you tried. A ring wasn't going to change that. "Might I ask what you're doing?"

The girl looked rather surprised for a moment, before quickly whispering something under her breath. Lelouch had developed some skill at lip reading, so he was able to catch part of it - 'don't kill', which he admitted to be somewhat less than comforting.

The redhead looked away from the ring in his hands. "Just a little teasing. Nothing wrong with that, right?"

Lelouch folded his left arm over his chest, propping up his right arm and tapping his neck with the hand. "Not in principle, but this particular case is somewhat of an exception."

The blonde chuckled, grabbing the girl by her thin shoulders and shoving her around to in front of Lelouch. "Come on, lay off. It's just an Eleven."

"Actually, she's a Britannian citizen." The situation was a bit scarce on tools (he'd have liked to use the 'car towed' trick again, but it wouldn't sell with them so close to it), so he'd opted to focus on the European elements of her appearance. "Specifically, my half-sister. So you can understand my concern for this particular case." He casually reached into his pocket.

The blonde jolted a little, releasing the girl with a slight push towards Lelouch and backing away, waving his hands in front of him. "Hey, we don't want any trouble man. Don't go calling the cops on something minor like this, yeah?"

Fortunately, the girl was facing towards Lelouch, away from both the young men, so the expression on her face didn't give up the whole game as she twisted through confusion to understanding.

Lelouch smiled, pulling out his phone. "You raise an excellent point, don't you? The police might be rather slow to respond to an Eleven's report of assault, but a Britannian... well now, that's different. You could actually get in trouble for that."

The redhead snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. "Don't be an idiot, Caz. She's a halfbreed. Honorary Britannian, maybe. Citizen, no way."

The girl grinned, whispering a short phrase in German (something about 'fog' and 'trust'?) before whirling around to point at the redhead. "That may be true for commoners like you! But things are different for the nobility. What look like walls to you are doors to us." She looked back over her shoulder. "Thanks, big brother." Something felt... strange, for a moment. He knew it was a lie, yet for some reason the word echoed in his head for as long as she looked at him.

Lelouch refrained from blinking, though he admitted he felt like it. While it was good that the girl had figured the angle out and was playing along, if she got carried away and made the lie too big, there was no way it was going to be swallowed. Just the same, if he didn't play along, it certainly wasn't going to be. "I wasn't going to call the police, really. Far too difficult to get through the channels. Father would be able to cut the red tape, though."

The redhead frowned, arms lowering, ring dangling in his right hand. "... You're nobility? Seriously? Which family?"

"Bishop. Lynette Bishop." She performed a picture-perfect curtsy. "I'm sure you know the name."

"William," Lelouch added. "I know I'm the Second, but please don't call me that."

The redhead's mouth worked in a voiceless curse, before he held up the ring. "Okay. Okay. No need to drag politics into this. I'm sorry." He slowly, reluctantly handed it to Lelouch, fingers lingering over the gold, before quickly moving back to the blonde. The pair boarded the car and skulked off, at least as best as a car could skulk.

Lelouch waited until they were gone before looking down at the girl. "For future reference, the current Duke Bishop is nineteen years old. Better to pretend to be his siblings than his children."

'Lynette' flushed, looking up at him. "Ah... I just remembered the name from history class... not the details..."

Lelouch smiled, passing the ring down into her hands. "Also, when lying, try not to be too specific. Details add verisimilitude, but too many and you start being more detailed than the truth, and people can tell that. Not to mention when you give a detail they know is false, they catch you instantly."

'Lynette' nodded slowly, swallowing. "Th... thank you..." She clutched the ring to her chest, the jacket's wide sleeves almost swallowing her dainty hands.

"This one isn't a lie: my actual name is Lelouch." Since he'd just said it wouldn't be a lie, it sort of felt wrong to add the 'Lamperouge' to it.

The girl smiled faintly, ducking her head and whispering. "... Takara..."

"Oy! Lelouch!" Rivalz called from the motorcycle. "Running short on time!"

Lelouch chuckled, nodding. "Good luck and try to avoid that kind of punk in the future, eh, Takara?" No point hoping to meet again. She lived in an entirely separate city, and the meeting had hardly been earthshattering.

She nodded once. "Thank you, Lelouch." No whisper, no averted eyes. Looking straight at him. Not as shy as he'd thought.

Lelouch gave a short wave and returned to the motorcycle, hopping into the sidecar and slipping on his helmet.

"You just can't help yourself, huh Lelouch?" Rivalz gunned the engine, and they were off. "Remind you of Nunnally?"

Lelouch snorted. "Hardly." Age aside, there were really no similarities. If he'd had to pick someone he knew, it would probably be Nina. But then, even that wasn't close enough. Perhaps because people were themselves, not something to slot into his life experience and define from his preconceptions.

~~~I========>

Tohsaka Takara still held her left hand over her heart, trying to slow it down and force the blush off her face. Her right hand was doing something a bit more important - slipping her mother's ring back into her jacket and out of sight. "S... see, Berserker? You didn't have to kill them."

Behind her - invisible and inaudible to everyone they may pass - a deep bass voice rumbled. "Perhaps not. But I despise such people."

"I'm no fan either, but those two weren't to blame. Andvarinaut compels you to want it. We bumped, it fell and they saw it..."

"I will bring to your attention that those... people... did not merely take your ring, but tormented you with it. Even under compulsion, there are a variety of ways to behave. Which was chosen is telling."

Takara nodded. That boy... he wasn't immune. She'd seen the need glittering in his eyes. He just forced it away, his raw willpower almost as strong as her prana-powered resistance against the effect.

"Oh...? That's quite an expression, Master."

"Which is a separate matter." It really was hard to take her eyes off the angle of his cheek, though. It was a face that didn't smile often, but meant it when it did. And eyes that-

She slapped herself. "Separate. Matter."

"You know, he's Britannian," Berserker noted as they settled back into walking across the city. Scouting the place for the upcoming... event.

"So?"

"Given the status of your people..."

Takara pursed her lips, shaking her head. "... What some people do doesn't make it right to cast judgment on all of them. Being Japanese didn't really mean much to me before the past few weeks... It was like being a girl, my hair colour... just a given, not something to take any particular value in. But... it's different being looked down on for... looking different? My birth? I don't even know... but I don't like it." She turned to where he was - invisible, of course, presently in spirit form. "But looking down on all Britannians for how they treat the Japanese... is the same, isn't it? He didn't act like that. He didn't act like that at all. He doesn't deserve to be treated as if he does."

"Good answer," Berserker rumbled.

"... You were testing me."

"It is not enough to be strong, though you are, Master. I need to know I can tolerate the one whose orders I will take, and whose wish will be granted by my strength."

Takara's hand came up to her mouth to cover her giggle.

"I do not believe I said something humorous, Master."

"Hey, Berserker. Did you know I had a summoning catalyst?" A moment of silence encouraged her to continue. "Two, actually... the Servants Father and Mother used in the last War." She fiddled a little with the ring in her pocket. Hopefully they weren't disappointed by her choice...

A short moment, while Berserker accessed the records available to him. "The winner and runner-up of the last War? Those would seem to be... strong... choices... Well now. I see."

Takara nodded, putting it to words. "You're all strong. Unimaginably strong. And some may be stronger, but if we can't work together well, that strength doesn't mean anything. So I summoned without a catalyst... so someone would come who suited me."

"You used yourself as the catalyst," Berserker corrected. There seemed to be a smile in his voice. "It seems I have been called by the strongest Master of the War."

"You surely mean the stupidest," a voice sneered from behind.

Takara whirled to face him, Berserker snapping into physical form behind her with a great shaking as he slammed into the concrete of the street.

Before them stood a beautiful golden figure. A man who put the gleaming city around him to shame. Who looked down on the towers. "There are Servants, and there are Servants. It is a difference you should be taught." His hand raised, the air around him rippled, and a hundred shapes slid out of the sky. A sword, halberd, spear, axe, scythe, not even one was the same as the other...

"You can't be... in broad daylight?!"

"The worms of this city are of no concern. Why would I put an ounce into avoiding them? If they see this short battle... no, this trifling swat... then they will die."

Takara gritted her teeth, the crest tattooed on her left arm lighting up as her circuits activated. "Berser-!"

The gray bear of a man was already leaping at the golden Servant without her command, hewing down with the absurdly small-looking sword gripped in his gloved right hand.

The golden Servant laughed, bringing up his arms, the sword deflecting off the golden armour without harm. To him or the armour, at least. The pavement underneath him cracked and buckled a meter downward, cratering around them. Even at that distance, the shaking earth almost rolled Takara off her feet.

Berserker didn't let that discourage, continuing to lash out with the blade. He knew his job was just to keep that Servant distracted. For a moment, he was keeping Takara distracted, as she stared at Berserker's skill with the blade - she'd trained in martial arts herself, so she could recognize the way his body quickly shifted and settled to generate speed and power and maintain it until it hit the target... and she could recognize that he was in an entirely separate league. The sheer power in his blows... even the grace, he was a slug as Servants went but he still exceeded belief, his huge form didn't so much lumber as it danced...

But unable to penetrate the armour despite it all, and the golden Servant was able to keep his unarmoured head protected. His eyes flicked to her, a smile beautiful and yet repellent crossing his face.

Takara flooded prana into her legs and rolled left as a spear shot out, flying through her hair before she managed to get into the nearest alley (twenty meters away - would've been an impossible jump for her without the reinforcement she just put on her body), jacket protecting her from her skidding against the pavement before she rolled back up to her feet. It wasn't actually magecraft that kept her hat on, though it might look it to an observer. She ran down the alley as the sounds of battle erupted. Clashing metal, Berserker's roars, and the crumbling of concrete as Berserker hit the Servant...

Takara wanted to fight alongside Berserker. The Holy Grail War didn't mean a thing if she let Berserker do all the work for her. But right now, it was more important that she get a 'you have nothing to see here and more important things to do elsewhere' compulsion up and as wide-area as she could, before someone really did come, see, and get murdered by the enemy Servant for witnessing the secrets of the Association.

And she needed to focus on it, she was mediocre at best at mental interference spellcraft - she'd only barely managed to cloud a university student into believing her words, with support from Lelouch, after almost a minute's solid effort. Admittedly her lying obviously needed work, but the spells were really doing most of it.

She reached into her jacket. This would take a jewel... first day of the War and she was already running down her supplies.

~~~I========>

Kouzuki Kallen noted that the day was going pretty well thus far, and then cursed herself for tempting fate. She glanced at Nagata, seated next to her in the cab of the truck. "No signs of pursuit?"

Her fellow resistance member shook his head. "Not yet. I'm not going to declare home clear until we're back in Tokyo and storing this damn thing in our headquarters, though." He leaned out the window to spit into the road. "Damn Britannians. What do they even need poison gas for? Are they getting bored of the old way of killing us?"

Kallen shook her head. "I don't know, but I can't believe they were working on something like this out in the Fuyuki University... this is a Japanese city!"

"That's exactly why I can believe it," Nagata noted. "If there's an accident, who cares? It's just a bunch of Elevens!" He punched the dashboard.

Kallen nodded, peeking out the window to give another check for pursuit. The theft didn't seem to have been noticed yet, but there was still plenty of time for something to go wrong. Like Tamaki trying to change the plan midway through.

Still, nothing yet. It should be simple. The theft only had to go unnoticed for a few hours. Once they got back to the Tokyo ghetto and linked up with the main group, they could get it under wrap and long gone by the time the Britannians came after it.

... Of course, if anyone really expected it to turn out that well, Kallen and her partner would only be here for loading the stupid thing into the truck. Nobody Japanese had gotten that lucky for seven years.

Then again, maybe they were due?

Kallen shook her head, and hopefully shaking the wool out with it. "Hey, you have any idea who was behind Osaka? I mean, it definitely wasn't us." Naoto's group wasn't even big enough to have splinter factions doing things the rest didn't approve of. And they'd been busy preparing for this one - Naoto'd bought the information with his life months ago, and it needed to be acted on, by them.

"Eight Britannians and what, fifty Japanese dead? I don't want to have anything to do with whoever it was supposed to be. This's for Japan, what's the point if they all die first?"

"Yeah..." Kallen relaxed slightly. She wasn't sure what she'd feel if he'd reacted with approval, but... Something she'd just had to check. She pulled up the map. "We're most of the way through Fuyuki. Train station should be coming up on the left soon." A contact would help them load the truck aboard a freight car, and they'd be bound for Tokyo.

Nagata nodded, turning the wheel to the right.

Kallen blinked, staring at him for a moment, then looking out the window and staring back. "Nagata! Other way!"

"This way's better."

Kallen came back to stare at Nagata again. "Wha..." ... That way did sound pretty good. Go near the river, take the roads back to Tokyo. Not stuck on the train's route. Or even better, go back north, to the coastline, load aboard a ship at the harbour and get this thing delivered all the way out of Britannian territo... "What the hell?! Nagata, everything's set up for the train! Everyone's waiting for us there! If you had a better idea, you should've brought it up in the planning phase!"

Nagata shook his head. "I don't want to go that way."

Kallen's jaw dropped. "... Nagata, have you gone crazy?" She leaned over, grabbing the wheel. "If you won't turn us around, I will!"

And she did. Unfortunately, traffic laws existed for a reason, and one of those reasons was 'if you suddenly turn in the middle of the road, someone might be going the other way and slam into you'.

Both vehicles were big, heavy ones, travelling fairly slowly, so the collision wasn't really a major one. No one went flying, they both just sort of ground to a stop next to one another, probably some dings in the body but they should still be drivable.

Though as Kallen looked out the window again, her face went white. The vehicle they'd just crashed into had been a Britannian military transport.

She took a deep, slow, unsteady breath. "Theyhaven'tcaughtusyettheyhaven'tcaughtusyet..." She reached into the glove compartment, resting her hand on the pistol that lay within, and adding in some prayers for good measure. She wanted to be ready in her knightmare, but Nagata had just gone crazy two minutes ago...

It was a short enough wait before a large, bald, round man in a Britannian general's uniform stepped up, accompanied by a pair of armed soldiers - bodyguards, Kallen hoped, rather than a search detail, a general probably wouldn't be around without them, right?

"Exactly what were you thinking, turning in the road like that?" Surprisingly polite, given the circumstances. He even forewent the usual 'damned Eleven' slurs.

Kallen took a moment to compose a response, though it turned out to be pointless.

The man's gaze drifted to the left side of the truck, and his face paled, before he barked to his guards. "Shoot them!" Which was a pretty common end to Britannian politeness.

Kallen was quicker on the draw, pistol out the window and pulling the trigger as fast as she could.

Her aim could use some (a lot of) work, she emptied the magazine and only scored one hit that mattered - right into the meat of the portly general's left thigh as he was running back to his transport for cover, though he showed himself to be surprisingly tough, turning his fall into a roll and getting his considerable bulk behind protection.

Maybe a few hits on the soldiers too, but they apparently deflected off the grey plates of armour. Didn't seem to bother them much, as they opened fire, though Kallen managed to duck back into the truck's cab and the glass was tough enough to withstand it for a bit.

Nagata must have hit the accelerator, because the truck surged forward, rolling over the Britannian soldiers, before he managed to get the truck turned around and heading back east. "Damnit damnit damnit... he must be on the poison gas project, there's a hole in the cargo compartment and he recognized the container!"

Kallen cursed, standing up and stepping towards the back. "You better be sane again Nagata, because I'm going to have to operate the knightmare if we're going to have any hope of getting out of here!"

"Sorry, Kallen! I don't know what I was thinking!"

"Just don't think it again and I'll do the rest of the yelling at you later!"

"Deal!"

~~~I========>

Clovis la Britannia didn't honestly know whether he enjoyed these parties or dealing with these people. To be sure, he received plenty of praise, adulation, and - he saluted a pretty young woman across the room with his wineglass - companionship.

But Britannia was filled with vipers. One mistake and he'd go the way his dear little brother Lelouch had - discarded, used as a hostage, and then executed by the locals when Father demonstrated he didn't actually consider hostages a constraint on his behaviour.

He took a slight sip, looking around with a brilliant, and completely false, smile. It wasn't actually wine - as an Imperial Prince, he had his own sources of food and drink (had to avoid any poisoning after all), and he always had his wine replaced with a grape juice that looked like it. This was a battlefield, and he needed what wits he had about him.

"Ah, Countess Germaine," Clovis smiled, elegantly maneuvering up to the woman. "I'm so glad to see you could grace my little party. Your conversation is always fascinating." He traditionally complimented a female guest's looks, they tended to glow at it, but he made a policy of not saying anything he was obviously lying about, and the woman had a face like a horse.

The Countess returned the smile, laying a hand on his arm. "I wouldn't miss it for the world, Prince Clovis. You're wonderful company."

They probably meant the praise. For the moment. Whether or not it was true, they wanted him to feel flattered. Because he was Third Prince. Only four or five people stood between him and the Imperial Throne, not including the Emperor himself. He was a powerful ally, or a powerful enemy. Someone whose favour was to be curried, and whose displeasure was to be feared.

Of course, how much of that they'd keep saying if he weren't... Well, that was why he wasn't entirely sure how much he actually enjoyed all this and how much was faked.

"I regret to inform you that I will have to step out in three hours. I must make an address regarding that terrible incident in Osaka yesterday, but this party couldn't be rescheduled, so..."

She nodded. "Of course, I understand. Your duties as Viceroy take priority over our entertainment."

Clovis smiled - the smile turning into a frown as a military officer stepped up to whisper into his ear. "... I apologize, milady, but it seems some of those duties call me."

The Countess nodded, gracefully stepping aside. "I will be here if you find yourself able to return, Your Highness."

Clovis marched off the dance floor after the officer, stalking up to the phone held out by one of the guards. He took it to his ear, and growled, "What is so important that you had to send a messenger to get me, Bartley?!" He dismissed the soldiers with a sharp wave of his hand.

A shaky breath sounded on the other side of the line. And General Bartley Aspirius spoke up in a pained voice. "My... my apologies, Your Highness. I am in Fuyuki, and the business is urgent."

Clovis frowned. Was he... injured? "Is this a terrorist attack?" Well, Fuyuki wasn't a major issue, other than the university the only things there were Elevens. Bartley shouldn't need to call to arrange a defensive cordon around the university and shoot anything that came too close.

"Yes... Your Highness." He pulled in another breath. "Code R... stolen..."

Clovis paled. "One of the..."

"I'm sorry. I don't know which. I only got a glance at it... it was... pure luck that I found it."

"Then recapture it! What are you waiting for?!"

The general shuddered in another breath. "Issued... what orders I could... told them it was medical research..." He hissed in pain, and suddenly seemed to be breathing easier.

Almost against his will, Clovis asked, "... Did you just pull a bullet out?"

"Yes... Your Highness. My apologies for the rudeness."

Somewhat disturbed, Clovis shook his head. "Never mind. You now have my permission to deploy the military in full to find and recapture it! Do whatever it takes! I don't care if you level the city! They're just Elevens!"

"Y... Yes, Your Highness!"

Clovis hung up, and buried his face in his hands. Not now... not after he'd come so far... He shook himself, running through some quick calculations. Fuyuki was one of the non-priority areas. It had a garrison, but it wasn't the closest place to the EU or the Chinese Federation, nor was it a really major part of the Area 11 government, so the garrison was fairly light.

Clovis would deploy the Tokyo garrison to Fuyuki as well... easy enough to wrap it up as a 'vigorous response' thanks to the mess yesterday in Osaka. It should take them three hours to get there. Two hours for him and his personal guard to travel by air - a proper Britannian ruler was supposed to command directly, and even aside from acting the proper Prince, he didn't want to trust something this important to anyone else.

And have forces from outside blockade the city and prevent anything from leaving. He hoped it would all be resolved before he arrived, but he doubted he was that lucky.

~~~I========>

[Pale Wolf]

~~~I========>

It was probably around when the truck careened around the corner, with a red knightmare standing on top of it and shooting backwards, that Rivalz Cardemond realized the day had just been tanked.

The purple-painted knightmares that followed it around the corner helped him confirm his theory. Shooting, naturally. The image wouldn't be complete without it.

Oh, right. Way. Out of. Rivalz veered the motorcycle aside sharply to the right, trying to get off the road that the freaking battle was taking place on before a stray bullet, or a few dozen, hit him or Lelouch.

The whole vehicle jolted as it jumped up onto the sidewalk, shaking Rivalz's teeth together as he fought to keep the bike under control...

Lelouch noticed a moment before he did, and called out, pointing ahead. "Get off the sidewalk! There's someone there!"

Many someones, actually, but most had spotted the incoming bike and battle and scattered in one direction or another. One in particular must have tripped over something in the middle of the attempt, and was crouched in the sidewalk clutching painfully at her chest. Maybe around their age, Eleven obviously, fairly well-built, long lavender hair falling to her hips, with glasses perched over her nose and an open book fallen on the ground beside her. Rivalz would probably consider her pretty cute, if he weren't about to be responsible for her death.

He twisted the handlebars around, stomping on the brakes. Trying to get pointed away from the Eleven girl and stopped before he hit her, ideally without heading right into the road where the gunfight was taking place.

The screeching of rubber was terrible, and a glance at the road told him that he was leaving chunks of the tires behind, but on the plus side, as he wheeled around, he was slowing down... maybe even fast enough.

The nature of the day, of course, meant that the next thing he saw was one of the rearmost wheels of the truck bearing down on them... shattering under gunfire from the purple knightmares, causing the truck to veer left, jumping up onto the sidewalk. The sidewalk they were on, naturally.

In about the time it took for their motorbike to come to a stop, the truck turned further leftward, away from them. Its movement, however, was still towards them, and it quickly rolled over onto its side, still skidding in their direction.

The red knightmare fell off the top as it fell towards them, but landed on its feet and quickly pushed back against the truck in an attempt to slow it down. A failed attempt, at least as far as they were concerned - wasn't gonna make it.

A glance over at Lelouch showed him leaning out of the sidecar, reaching out... "I've got her! Rivalz, go!"

A long habit of trust in Lelouch mixed well with Rivalz's survival instinct, so before he even understood the words, he gunned the engine in a pure Pavlovian response, accelerating them forward, away from the truck before he became consciously aware of what he was doing.

They didn't have to go that far, of course. It was skidding, it would run out of energy before too long, they were just well in the danger zone. It came to a halt barely five meters after passing their former position, probably helped in that early stop by the red knightmare.

Not like Rivalz was going to stop, though.

"Stop!" Lelouch commanded, voice serious for one of the very few times in his life. That whole Pavlovian response thing kicked in again, and the bike quickly came to a stop - they hadn't built up a whole lot of speed.

As Rivalz actually processed it, he turned left, about to complain to Lelouch, before seeing the reason for the command.

It was hard to tell which was less fit than the other - Lelouch and the girl were both panting for breath, hands sweaty, and had almost lost hold of one another. The girl fell to the sidewalk, clutching her chest, which probably would have hurt a great deal more if the bike had been at speed when their grip gave out.

Rivalz bit back his complaint. As usual, Lelouch was right. Though heaving for breath and not exactly in a position to comment on it.

He got off the bike, planning to pick up the girl and dump her more properly in the sidecar before resuming the 'get far far away from the battle' thing. As it turned out, by the time he reached her, the battle resolved that for them.

With about the level of subtlety he was coming to expect, the red knightmare punched a hole in the cab of the truck, reaching in to pull out the driver, before directing its... he didn't actually remember what they were called, the integrated grappling hook things... up at the nearest building's roof. A quick reel, and it was off the sidewalk, on the roof, and continuing away. The purple knightmares were moments behind.

Leaving the street ruined, people shell-shocked and staring after them, a hydrant that must've been hit by a stray shell pumping water up into the sky...

"What... are the Forces... doing?" Lelouch panted out, as he regained control of his breath. "Fighting a battle... in the middle of a city...?"

As his mind had time to catch up and process the recent events, Rivalz realized what Lelouch meant - the purple paint scheme was for the Britannian Forces knightmares. "... Maybe the local garrison chasing terrorists?"

"In a... crowded street?"

Rivalz turned to Lelouch, holding up his hands. "Hey, I don't know! Don't ask me."

A slim hand reached up onto the motorbike's side, shakily pulling up the rest of its body. The lavender-haired girl, who looked between them red-faced, before looking down and whispering "... Thank you. I..." In fairly good Britannian, actually.

Rivalz chuckled nervously, looking away.

There was a moment of silence. A little awkward.

Then Lelouch spoke up. "Rivalz, does this thing still work? We can get her home before we go to the train station." He turned to the girl. "Is that all right?"

Rivalz hopped to checking, agreeing with Lelouch here. They had the time and he'd like to get some extra distance from the knightmare battle, not to mention that he'd sort of like to finish the whole 'saving the girl' thing and get her to somewhere that was hopefully safer than the street.

The Eleven girl looked up slightly. "I... guess I should..." A slight frown crossed her face. "But... um... the train station is closed down right now.. Probably related to..." She pointed wordlessly in the direction the knightmares had run.

Rivalz slapped his forehead with his hand. "Ack, really? Shirley's gonna tear us apart by the time we get home at this rate... Well, the bike works, at least. Hopefully the rental company has terrorist insurance, or this's gonna eat up most of my savings repairing..." At least Lelouch had managed to take the fifteen minutes it took to demolish Viscount Semnan before this and the nobleman had paid up, or he'd have to be borrowing from Lelouch's share of their collection of winnings.

The girl swallowed. "Um... if you don't have any place to stay, you could rest at my house until the train is running again."

Rivalz blinked. "Ah? Wait, that'd be-"

"I owe you," the Eleven cut him off. "You two saved my life, and you're offering to take me home too. It'd be poor of me not to at least let you rest there."

"Uh..."

"We'll accept gladly," Lelouch smoothly interrupted, stepping out of the sidecar. "Sit here, I'll hang on behind Rivalz."

The girl looked to Rivalz.

Rivalz, for his part, frowned slightly, waiting until Lelouch stepped up to him before whispering. "You can't be serious? Staying at a girl's house is-"

"For a few hours, Rivalz," Lelouch whispered back. "She's not going to do anything inappropriate, I'm not, and I highly doubt you are."

Rivalz sighed, dropping his head. What was he supposed to say? 'Yes, I will!'? "... All right, fine." He waved to the sidecar. "Go on and get in before the battle gets back around here." It probably wouldn't, except knowing how the day was going...

The girl gave a faint smile. "I don't have a whole lot, but... it's yours while you're in Fuyuki." She stood straight, and bowed first to Lelouch, then to Rivalz. "My name is Kokoro."

The boys introduced themselves, and in a short enough time, they were off.

~~~I========>

Sorin Decebal exhaled with a sigh, lowering the binoculars. "What the hell is Assassin doing? I send him to scout and he starts a brawl in public." With a casual reinforcement to survive it, he dropped down a few stories next to the white car in the otherwise-empty street, opening the rear door and slipping in. "Isabelle, take us west across the bridge. Fairly fast, and hang as far south as you can."

Isabelle von Einzbern nodded sharply, the gesture sending her long white hair ruffling forward as she started the car, quickly accelerating down the street. He'd had to teach her how to drive, but she wasn't half-bad at it. At least, he'd take advantage of the extra pair of hands while it was there - easier to fight his own part that way.

She didn't ask for an explanation, but Sorin provided one anyway. "Our Servant started a fight already. And there's another battle going on in the city, looks like the Britannians against some local resistance. Knightmares to the northwest end of the newer part of town. I'd rather avoid that one."

"I understand, Sorin."

Sorin rolled down the window, grabbing a long-barreled rifle from the seat next to him, and aimed to the southwest, angled high. A simple squeeze of the trigger quietly sent a subsonic projectile flying across the city, over the river in the middle and into the older part of town.

He came back in, dropping the 'someone else's business' compulsion as he hid the rifle and reached for a PDA. The round hadn't been an attacking one - he could make a shot at that range, but he wasn't dumb enough to try it when he couldn't even see the target from here. It was a camera, and would be floating up there for a while on a thin parachute. Now he could see where his targets were.

There was a hissing sound as he sucked in air between his barely-parted lips. Total bad habit, never got around to shaking it. "It's the Tohsaka Master. Has to be. Seems they sent their daughter after all." Of course, Tohsaka Takara was the only Master they actually had information on yet. They had some prospectives, but Tohsaka was the only confirmed.

Isabelle nodded.

... Damn it, this job was already wearing on him. She was his wife for now but he still could barely deal with her - she just didn't talk. Not enough 'human' in the three-year-old homunculus, and from him that was saying something. Still... the Einzberns had fronted a lot of cash for this one. "I'd rather not start a fight this early and show our hand, but since Assassin's made the choice for us, we're going to have to knock her out of the fight."

"Kill her?"

Sorin waved a hand, searching the image on his PDA for the battle. He knew where it was, shouldn't take too much longer. "If it comes to it. I'd rather deal with the Servant and let her take refuge with the Directorate's mediator."

"That will be much more difficult."

"Like I said, if it comes to it. I'll do what's necessary, but if it's not necessary, it's just bad tradecraft." At some point in his career, that had become his opinion on killing a fourteen-year-old girl for money. And damnit, this job had him getting way too introspective, probably because his Servant was a jackass and his 'wife' didn't talk unless he dragged it out of her - no talking apparently led to thinking, and when the useful topics were exhausted... He shook himself, returning to scanning the camera feed

Naturally, Isabelle didn't say anything. They drove up onto the bridge, behind a few kids on a motorcycle - there really weren't a lot of cars on the road, probably because this amounted to a ghetto. Doubtful many of the Japanese had the cash to run them anyway.

Ah, there they were. South of the bridge, towards the much less densely-packed residential areas. The area was empty, and if he zoomed out just a little, he could see a ragged sphere of people turning away from the battle long before it came in sight. Tohsaka must have put up a 'go away from me' compulsion.

At least one of them was being responsible. The Association would tear him a new asshole if there were witnesses to magecraft on the level of a Servant battle, and any cleanup of something that big would create its own anomaly to draw further attention...

He whistled, zooming back in on the battle. "Her Servant is tough, Assassin's slamming him with his thousand and one Noble Phantasms but the guy just keeps on trucking." The girl - seated on her Servant's shoulder - turned around and pointed a finger at the golden Assassin that pursued them, held like a pistol, and a jolt of... something... crossed the space between them, though Assassin rolled aside with his usual contemptuous ease. "Whoa, Gandr. Didn't think that was in the Tohsaka arsenal."

"They captured an Edelfelt last War," Isabelle noted.

Sorin nodded. "Yeah, guess they grabbed some goodies off her. Hm... she's heading towards the Tohsaka manor."

"If she gets into her stronghold, this will get much more difficult."

"Nah, don't forget, the Tohsaka bailed out of the country with the invasion seven years ago. They've been living in Italy. The manor's defences would've degraded a hell of a lot in the time since, and she's only been back here a weekish. Seven days isn't going to make up for seven years." He hummed, slipping a 'don't look at me' spell on his rifle.

"Sorin?"

He leaned out the window, holding the rifle out and hoping the spell kept anyone on the bridge from noticing it. "Just the same, I don't like letting an enemy complete their plan." He peered into the scope, looking southwest, towards the battle... got it.

He centered the sights on the girl's red jacket. No way he'd make a shot at this distance from a moving car no matter how steady Isabelle's hands were on the wheel. But if he could at least rattle her...

There was a loud crack as the bullet broke the sound barrier - he loved variable-acceleration electromagnetic rails, the things were so useful - and tore across the river towards the girl.

Nerves. Of. Steel. Girl didn't even flinch as the bullet whipped past her ear over her shoulder, rolling forward and probably landing in her Servant's hands - he couldn't really see, given the hulking Servant's back blocked his view.

And his angle of fire. With a tsk, he pulled the rifle back in, switching to much less attention-grabbing binoculars. Yeah, given Assassin's Noble Phantasms were embedding themselves in the Servant's leather-clad greyish flesh without him even hesitating, Sorin really didn't think his rifle would do a whole lot. Maybe his pocket arti...

Never mind. He caught the kids on the motorcycle out of the corner of his eye. Both the passengers were looking back wide-eyed at his car, apparently resistant enough to the 'nothing to see here' effect to, well, see a man trying to snipe a fourteen-year-old girl in broad daylight. The cycle accelerated away.

Isabelle frowned, perfect lips twisting. "Pursue them?"

Sorin waved a hand. "Don't bother. They didn't see any spellcraft, just terrorism, and that's hardly rare in this country. By the time the cops get here we'll be long-gone, ditch the car, get a new one, and we're clean as roses." Normally his mindfuck spells were more reliable than that. Downright embarrassing.

"Can we keep up the battle?"

"Mm... no. My no-notice spells were resisted, and I'm starting to worry about the reliability of Tohsaka's. We're going to have to prosecute this War the old-fashioned way - in secret. Give me a prana flood, I'm about to use a Command Seal."

The pale-haired homunculus nodded, and the air between them wavered, almost like it'd suddenly heated up - it wasn't actually temperature, but human eyes really didn't work quite right trying to focus on raw prana.

Sorin extended his right arm, the red tattoo of three circles, one inside the next, visible on his palm. "Assassin." The innermost circle flared. "Come when I call you!"

The air tore apart in the front passenger seat, rudely dumping the golden figure in the car.

"What is a mongrel like you thinking, interrupting my battle?" His first words were essentially as expected.

Sorin brandished the Command Seals as a minor reminder. "A mongrel like me is thinking 'what the hell?' You dropped the comm unit I gave you. And then you kicked off the Holy Grail War in a public place and dragged the fight halfway across the city."

"No, I threw it away. I have no need for your advice."

"Like it or not, Assassin, I'm your Master right now - and believe me, I don't like it either. But you pull this kind of stunt and the Association is going to peel us alive. Maybe they won't manage you, but Isabelle and I peel well enough, and once we go, you drop right back to the Throne of Heroes."

The perfectly-sculpted brows twitched. "I will extract a heavy price for your insolence, Dacian."

"When the Command Seals run out," Sorin corrected. "Until then, you're going to do things like a professional. My way."

Assassin smiled. Anticipation. "A heavy price indeed." The Command Seals didn't have him cowed, but they at least had him controlled for now.

Sorin leaned back, sighing and rubbing his temples. The Einzbern had picked the Servant too - the strongest one whose catalyst they could get a hold of in the time since the Grail had started off the selection. And he was strong as hell, but Sorin would've sold that and half the paycheck for a C-lister who fought with half a brain. He was starting to regret his 'always fulfill the contract' policy already.

~~~I========>

General Bartley Aspirius didn't think he was going to be a general much longer. He held himself up on a crutch, his other hand holding a phone. "Your Highness, I'm sorry."

"I do not appreciate hearing those words in a situation such as this," the Third Prince's voice came back.

"We've recovered the capsule," Bartley began.

"That's wonderful. But it does not mesh with your apology."

"... It's empty."

"... What."

Bartley bit his lip, looking over the torn open truck and the scattered equipment. "The rebels abandoned the truck. The Forces chased after them, and it was a little while before the retrieval team arrived. Given the situation, it's possible the rebels absconded with the sample, or it's possible they left it and it left on its own. I have men tracking both possibilities."

"... You're telling me the sample is gone, and you don't know where?"

Bartley winced. "I'm sorry, Your Highness. The surveillance slipped. I take full responsibility."

"You will, will you? And what's my father going to say when he finds out about Code R?! Do you have any idea what's going to happen to me, Bartley?!"

Bartley swallowed. "We're tracking them now. Nothing's going to be getting out of this city without our consent, and once we catch the rebels, we can find out whether they have the sample or just abandoned it. Beyond that, there really aren't any witnesses, the capsule was hidden from view by the truck... nobody could see where she came from if she came out."

"You must be joking! A room-to-room search of an entire Eleven city to find a sample who we have to hide from our soldiers in the process?! There aren't enough soldiers in all the Area!" Clovis took a long, calming breath. "Burn it."

Bartley blinked. "Your High-"

"Burn it to the ground. Destroy it all so there's no evidence left. And then root through the rubble until you find the sample. Am I clear, Bartley?"

Bartley swallowed. "... Very clear, Your Highness. But the mainland will notice-"

"We'll tell them we're rezoning the area for industry. It's just an Eleven ghetto, it's not a major concern."

"... Yes, Your Highness. I'll issue the appropriate orders."

"Good. Make preparations. It will begin upon my arrival." The Prince hung up.

Bartley lowered the phone. ... He was going to have to get into the G-1 mobile command base up north, evacuate the few relevant personnel, before he set the Forces to levelling this city.

Disobedience hadn't even crossed his mind. Even if he could get away with it, he obeyed the orders of his Prince. That was what separated Britannians from the barbarians of the EU.

~~~I========>

Lelouch looked out at the house as he stepped off the bike. It was a nice building, probably fairly old. European in style, actually, and quite respectably sized. But it hadn't been cared for well for some time - the outside was darkened, a little dingy, with moss climbing up the walls and barely kept away from the windows. Not that surprising, though. Given the economic situation of the ghettoes, it was unlikely Kokoro's family had the funds to properly care for the place.

Kokoro stepped off the sidecar as well, slipping her glasses off. At Lelouch's raised eyebrow, she explained "Reading glasses. I'm farsighted, not nearsighted."

"Ah. Well then." He gestured. "Ladies first. Besides, you have the keys."

She covered her mouth and giggled slightly, stepping up the stone walkway towards the front door.

Rivalz leaned in beside Lelouch. "... You sure? The place doesn't look all that... I mean, I'm not trying to be snobby here, but how much hospitality do you think she can really spare?" Whispered, of course.

Lelouch whispered back. "It's because she doesn't have much that she offers it. Pride's one of the few things she has." Or at least, that was how it was with him. "Besides, do you really want to head back across the bridge? I have no idea where the rebels are in the city." He stepped up after her.

With a sigh, Rivalz followed.

The girl smiled as they arrived, pushing open the door and stepping in. The place was dark. Very dark. It was possible to see, but only with effort. "I'm sorry about the lighting... Grandfather really doesn't like too much light."

"Or noise," a voice rasped from deeper within. The figure of a small man stepped forward, the darkness rolling off him like foul water. He hadn't always been small, but age had clearly taken much - he was deeply withered, almost mummified, bent and hairless, standing only with the aid of a cane, wrapped in a kimono. But the years hadn't taken away the spirit and the light in his eyes. He was as sharp as he'd been at Lelouch's age. Maybe more so. For a moment, he reminded Lelouch of old Kirihara... but this man was different. Kirihara was dangerous... but this man felt wrong.

Kokoro whirled around, fear in her voice - fear that hadn't even been there when she'd almost been crushed by an out-of-control battle. "G... Grandfather! I thought you were sleeping..."

"I was," the man spat out, eyes skipping over Rivalz without a second glance, and settling on Lelouch. His face twisted into a terrifying smile. "But then, it seems you brought me something useful after all."

Kokoro followed his gaze, and then shook her head wildly. "No! Grandfather, they helped me! I was just going to let them-"

"Shut up." Her jaw snapped shut, face taut with fright.

He slowly stepped towards Lelouch, cane tapping against the carpet, the wild light in his eyes roving over the young Britannian.

Lelouch licked his lips. "I'm 'useful', hm? I cannot say I am very interested." He tried to catch Kokoro's eye.

"Oh... you will be, boy."

"It's not that I won't take a deal with the devil. I just don't think you're going to offer me anything of interest." If he could catch Kokoro's attention, he could get her out of here... he had no intention of staying, and he'd rather not leave anyone else either.

The old man barked out a laugh. "You have the look about you." He stepped closer. "Of a man who wants something so badly he would gladly sell his life."

Lelouch's eyes narrowed, and he knew the man had caught it.

The man's lip curled. "But of a man who sees no way even his life could buy it. It's left you listless. Disinterested. There is nothing that matters for you but what you cannot affect."

Hit, and hit. Lelouch didn't let his bored facade slip this time, but the old man surely knew he'd hit the mark.

The man came to a stop. "What would you do if I told you...? Of a game where you can gamble your life, and win anything your heart desired?"

And miss. Lelouch's eyebrow rose. Not entirely disinterested, but... "... I think I would say that you're exaggerating your game, underestimating my heart's desire, or insane."

The man's gaze shifted a bit to Kokoro. "Girl, demonstrate. Something flashy."

Instantly obedient, Kokoro's fist lashed out at the brick wall beside her... and tore a hole through it.

"... You're fixing that."

"Yes, Grandfather," she meekly agreed.

Lelouch stared at the inhuman display of strength from a girl... barely his size. That was... they had something. Something he hadn't considered. Something he could use. Something Britannia wasn't prepared for.

The old man's gaze shifted to Rivalz - who was pretty much staring petrified, and looked about ready to run. "Boy, I'll be having you forget this conversation. Step back outside and wait."

Rivalz's expression calmed, and he nodded cheerfully. "Okay, sure. Hey Lelouch, I'll be out by the bike, okay?"

Lelouch swallowed, nodding slowly as his eyes returned to the old man. That hadn't been conversation. That had been another ability... if he could use anything like that, his dreams had just come years closer. Maybe even, finally, within reach.

Rivalz stepped out.

The old man smiled, slowly. He really was the devil, and Lelouch really was going to make a deal with him. And the man knew he had him. "Permit me to introduce myself." He slowly, elegantly, bowed. "I am Matou Zouken. Magus."

~~~I========>

Wise Up - The Holy Britannian Empire

As I understand it, you are from a different timeline. Quite radically different in fact, though the similarities are truly impressive.

Though, not as impressive as they seem at first glance! You may have noted terms such as 'Pavlov', 'firearm', and for that matter, 'empire'. This is me, translating it so you can comprehend. The name of the man who performed the closest analogue to Pavlov's experiments in this timeline - Willem Bussard, if you must know - is not one that you would respond to naturally, after all.

Except for Pizza Hut. I don't understand that one either.

But, proceeding back to the topic. This particular timeline diverged from yours around two thousand years ago. I believe you mark time by the birth of Jesus Christ?

This particular timeline - or at least Britannia - marks its years according to the Ascension Throne Britannia calendar, whose initial date is set in 55 BC, when the Roman general Julius Caesar first made landing in the British Isles. So while the year is listed as 2017, by the Anno Domini calendar, it is 1962.

Specifically, it marks his defeat. Of course, while Britannia's education system would have you believe that's the end of it, he was defeated in 55 BC in your timeline too. He came back the next year. And won, in both histories.

The difference lies in what happened afterward. Because Caesar never conquered Britannia - he won the battles, but all he received was hostages, and established trade relationships with the various kingdoms of the island. The true conquest came nearly a century later, under Claudius - in your history, that is.

In our world, those trade relationships did not expand. A king of the Catuvellauni, Eowyn, brought the tribes of Britannia together, uniting them under a single King of Kings and forging them into a force strong enough to defend itself against the might of Rome.

And thus history took on a new course. Barely a century and a half later, with a crashing economy due to an inability to expand, the Roman Empire fell. I could chart the twists and turns of history, but to be honest, the relevance to modernity is... limited.

What you do need to know is that revolutions came up - the people were growing tired of monarchy, and sought to rule for themselves. First one in Britannia's North American colonies, but it was unsuccessful. And then one in France... but this one worked much better. In fact, it expanded all across Europe, driven by the military genius of one French artilleryman.

And then it expanded across the British Channel, forcing Britannia's government into exile in its colonies.

Britannia was shamed by this. A nation that had stood for two thousand years, and then lost its own homeland, its beautiful cities, forced out to a rough and rude existence in its own colonies by - as they saw it - a mere peasant rabble.

A nation that declared to itself that it would not lose again. That it would take back all it had lost, and more. A new national crest - the lion representing the Emperor (or Empress - it's worth noting that gender was never much of an issue in Britannia) became accompanied by a serpent, representing rebirth.

And they proceeded to make a fair bid at conquering the world - forcing the borders back, and back, and further back, never to be crossed and shamed again. They had been pushed to the brink of oblivion, and come to see international politics - life itself - as a war for survival. If others did not allow them to live, they saw no reason to allow others to live.

As time went by, they came to see their conquests as natural. Proof of their superiourity, and of their right to conquer more - to conquer all.

Not all of them, of course. There were doves, even in Britannia. Even on Britannia's throne. But the broad trends continued to push them this way. And they kept winning, despite having the smallest military of the three great superpowers of the world.

By 2010, Britannia sat astride the world like a colossus. The Americas, both North and South, were theirs, as was Greenland. And then in 2010, they added Japan to their list of conquests, as usual stripping it of everything - freedom, rights, even the pride of its own name. Area 11.

The expansion has since continued, largely across the islands of East Asia. It doesn't look like a great deal more on the map, but that is still seven years and as many countries losing the right of self-determination and becoming a simple part of Britannia. At present, Britannia's making gains again - Second Princess Cornelia is pushing the Middle Eastern Federation rapidly towards its breaking point.

Once that falls, the next target - the obvious target from the positioning of the Middle Eastern Federation - is Britannia's great enemy, the democratic Euro Universe.

Please do not ask me about the name, Archer. I don't understand it either.

~~~I========>

Author's Notes:
First thing's first - thanks go out to prereaders - the list being Sunshine Temple, DCG, Ellf, and Belgarion213.
Unfortunately, while FSN readers will probably recognize most of the Servants, the Masters are going to be new faces, except for the ones (yes, plural) from Code Geass. It's 1962, after all. This is the Fourth Grail War, but it's sort of 35 years early for reasons that will come up. The only canonical Master for this one who's even born yet is Kayneth, and he's certainly not HGW material just yet. The others, well... Rin's grandmother is 14, let alone Tokiomi and Rin herself.
This was mostly the equivalent of the first episode of Code Geass, though obviously with different events, with the robber rebels not making it out of the city they made the initial theft from.
As always, reviews, comments, corrections, and etcetera are appreciated whether for good or ill, and my email's always open (PaleWLF @ gmail com).

[Pale Wolf]

Disclaimer: No copyright is mine, thus no copyrighted character is. If you recognize them from something that's not written by 'Pale Wolf', I have no legal claim to them.

Code Geass: The War Of Kings

By Pale Wolf

Chapter Two

To Be A Master

~~~I========>

"What do you know about the Holy Grail War?" Zouken began, leading the way deeper into the Matou home.

Lelouch followed carefully, shaking his head. "Now? Its name."

"Bit of a surprise." The old... magus... turned to look at Lelouch, with what was probably meant to be a smile but came out more leer-like. "The strength of your circuits nearly rolls off you. I felt you coming from a kilometer out."

Kokoro, eyes downcast at Lelouch's side, glanced at him in surprise. "Wha..."

The cane rose to point at her. "No delays, girl. The Britannian military is planning to level the city, and we need things that are only available here."

Lelouch's eyes widened. "Wait, they're planning to what?! How do you even-?"

"Magus, boy. I have many eyes in many places." His cane tapped the floor once more. "If you will listen to me, within the hour you will hold a power that will render their army irrelevant. You may escape, or save the city, as suits your whim. Settle."

Lelouch slowly nodded, gritting his teeth. "Speak quickly."

"The Holy Grail War is a competition between magi, a ritual to manifest a magical artifact with enough power within it to grant essentially any wish. It is held every sixty years here in Fuyuki, though the current one is somewhat of an anomaly - the Third was only twenty-five years ago." The man's head bobbed. "I do not know why the speed, nor is it relevant. Moving on."

Lelouch nodded, following the withered old magus. "I would presume this is the 'game that will grant my heart's desire'."

"I'm not awarding you any points, that was obvious."

"So why does this come to me? Where do I come in? Why the offer?"

"Does this ravaged old body look suited to a war?" He nodded to Kokoro. "And the girl is useless. She only has four circuits, she can do parlour tricks like reinforcement, but simply lacks the power to handle a Servant."

Kokoro cringed, but said nothing.

Lelouch very much did not like this man, but at the same time, he couldn't afford not to listen to what he was offering, so he gestured.

"Yes, which brings us to the topic of what one fights the War with. The weapon is called a Servant. It is a figure summoned from myth and history, the finest weapons born to the human race. Think of it as a ghost, but the ghost of one of the greatest warriors ever to have lived, and with the power to affect the physical world. It would not be understating the matter to say that one Servant could crush the army surrounding this city."

Lelouch raised an eyebrow. "I find it hard to believe that a swordsman could do much against armour plate and guns."

"A swordsman, no. A swordsman fast as a bullet with the strength to lift a car overhead? Somewhat different matter. The heroes of old had access to powers beyond those of mere mortals - magecraft at the very least - and Servants are the greatest among them."

"I'm still suspecting you're underestimating modern technology, but I will admit I don't know the limitations of your abilities," Lelouch noted. "Consider me skeptical, but willing to hear more." Whether or not this 'Servant' was any use against the Britannian Forces, the wish was not to be ignored. The Matous had demonstrated enough strange powers that he was, at the least, not willing to throw out the idea immediately.

Frankly, while he'd been working on his plans for seven years, they came down to 'Step One, Step Two, ?????, Destroy Britannia'. As a high school student, he was distinctly lacking in resources. No matter how little he believed in something, he couldn't afford to throw it out. All his old angles were failures or decades in the future - new angles bore investigating.

Zouken nodded. "The Servant is the marker - destroy the enemy Servants, through any means at your disposal, and victory is yours. The magus does not summon the Servant. The Grail does. The Grail selects seven Masters, and marks them with a Command Seal. Then they can summon their Servant."

Lelouch blinked. "... I don't have any kind of marking. Unless you have a way to get me selected, I don't see how this discussion is going to be anything other than theoretical."

Zouken turned back, pointing his cane at Kokoro. "You can have my granddaughter."

"What." Lelouch blankly stared at the old man.

Kokoro looked up at Zouken, then at Lelouch, and then silently looked away, red-faced.

"Don't look at me like that, boy." He nodded to Kokoro. "Girl, go get your collection of initiation tools, meet in the basement."

Kokoro meekly nodded, slipping away down a nearby hall.

Zouken turned back to Lelouch. "The Matou family is one of the three founding families of the Holy Grail War. We automatically have an entry." The ancient man shrugged. "I was going to let this one pass us by, the girl is useless but for what might spring from her womb. But, if one were to marry into the family, then they would become eligible for the Matou slot. The Einzbern have done the same for their mercenary Master."

Lelouch pursed his lips, glancing down the hallway - Kokoro was still well within earshot. "So... what, a sham marriage so the system accepts it?" Which wasn't really... too different from an arranged marriage. He'd never been much of a romantic, so this wasn't shattering any dreams for him - to be honest, an arranged marriage that gave him an angle at getting what he did dream of was pretty much the closest thing to a romantic fantasy he'd ever had.

"If you want. While she's useless, she has learned the lore of an old magus family. She knows it, even if she can't do it, and can provide you with whatever instruction you require. And whatever else you require - I wouldn't mind getting a useful heir out of her."

Lelouch gritted his teeth. "You're talking about your own granddaughter like she's a horse on auction."

Zouken barked a laugh. "Want to check her teeth? I'm too old for pretensions, boy. Do what you will with her - learn, have your fun, take her far away from this bad, bad man. Whichever suits your taste."

It was around this point where Lelouch realized - this man was going to have to die. Not immediately. Lelouch still needed him. But in the end, this man would want the power he'd spoken of - it was likely that he intended to take it if Lelouch were able to win it, and if Lelouch weren't, nothing lost. And a man like this could not be permitted to have it.

None of this showed on his face, but he was sure Zouken knew the battle lines had been drawn. Which meant Zouken was going to be assembling his own plan for the endgame - but then, it wouldn't matter if they didn't make it that far. Zouken was going to win as it stood - the old man knew far more about how all this magical jiggery worked. So Lelouch was going to have to learn fast - but even a low probability of success was enough for his taste, as long as he was at least on the battlefield. He was still getting ahead of his old position with every step he took. "... Very well. Do we need a priest?"

Zouken smirked. "I will suffice." Zouken reached a door. "We will perform the ceremony, then we will open up your magic circuits. I highly doubt you will have enough control by the time the Command Seals show themselves, so I will handle the magical side of the summon, you will handle the administrative. From the moment of the summon, however, you and Kokoro are on your own. You will have to fuel your Servant with prana however you see fit."

The old man pulled open the door, and Lelouch slapped a hand over his nose. "It reeks! You can't seriously be thinking of holding a wedding there." Even his thoroughly unromantic soul rebelled at the damp, rotting stench.

"It's the workshop, and you'll need to be summoning from down there."

"Fine, but not a wedding. Seriously."

Zouken's lips curled into a hideous rictus grin. "So you do have limits. How cute." His small, bent hand pushed the door shut - cutting off that godawful smell. "Very well. Girl!"

Lelouch followed his gaze, to see Kokoro, hefting a small bag - it looked medical in nature, mostly bottles of pills and a syringe - walking back towards them through the darkened hall, gaze lowered to her feet. "Yes, Grandfather?"

"Do you take this man," he gestured to Lelouch. "to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold and all that rot?"

Kokoro swallowed, looking up at Lelouch red-faced, lips working slightly. "I..." Behind her glasses - she must have needed to read labels on the medicine bottles, she'd put them back on - her lavender eyes closed. "... do."

Lelouch closed his own eyes, whispering a mute apology. At least he'd be able to get her out of here. Hopefully that was enough.

"And boy, do you, whatever your name was, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, etcetera etcetera, sickness and health and who cares?"

Lelouch opened his eyes, taking a deep breath and focusing on Kokoro. She was looking up at him, eyes wide and lips shaking. "I do." He hated that look on her face - on anyone's. But this was the only way that had ever opened up towards his goals - towards no one ever having to have such an expression again.

Zouken clapped his hands together. "You may now kiss the bride."

Lelouch stared at him. Was he unable to read the mood at all, or was he just toying with them? Lelouch couldn't honestly tell.

"Well? She's not going to kiss herself. Come on, boy, this's the last step, then you and the girl are on your way out of here."

"At least look away. Do you have any conception of 'human dignity' at all?"

"Pointless little..." Zouken mumbled under his breath, shuffling around. Doubtful he actually cared, more likely he just realized Lelouch would argue it and the whole thing would be done quicker if he let it lie.

Lelouch turned to Kokoro, hand resting against his forehead. "... This... probably doesn't match up to your dreams, and I doubt I do either. I am sorry."

Kokoro shook her head, swallowing. "Not to the dreams, but... better than I expected... I owe you my life. I didn't plan to give it to you like this, but..."

Lelouch was about to say 'don't worry', then realized how pointless it would be (how exactly would she reasonably stop?), and skipped to the next line. "This is only as serious as you want it to be."

She smiled faintly. "... I guess that'll do..."

"Enough of the sweet nothings and finish the ceremony already, we're on a schedule!" Zouken barked. Still turned away - Lelouch had checked - but... well, there went what little mood they'd managed.

Kokoro tilted up, rising on her toes - she wasn't a short girl, but Lelouch was quite tall. Before leaning in, she whispered "... What was your wish?"

Lelouch considered for a moment keeping it secret. It was big, and if he told all the background, he and his sister might well be in danger again.

Only for a moment, though. She was opening the way to it. She deserved to know what it was. "... I'll tell you later. Away from..." He nodded to Zouken.

His head lowered as hers rose, eyes closing.

No sparks. No burning fire of desire. She was a limp fish, and honestly he was too. It didn't feel even halfway to as interesting as all the thousands upon thousands of songs, ballads, and poems on the topic seemed to imply. What was the big deal? It was just an embarrassing physical contact.

Of mutual accord, they pulled back, opening their eyes. Yes, going by her expression, it had been about as good for her as for him.

"Not doing that again?"

"Not doing that again."

"Finally! I was about to go light some candles and put on mood music." Zouken opened the door to the cellar, and the stench immediately swamped out. And down he went.

Lelouch and Kokoro traded looks, and then followed him down the stairs.

It would have been romantic to say they were holding hands after that, but untrue. Her hands were wrapped around the medical bag, his were slipped into his pockets specifically to avoid the ingrained-over-a-thousand-stories reflex that had almost overcome him. Seriously, while she was attractive enough, he'd only known her for half an hour. He was hardly going to drop his focus and his life's mission for a relationship with anyone, let alone someone he barely knew.

Couldn't afford the distraction, didn't want it that much. And he needed to avoid prolonging this awkwardness. She was his partner now, for the Holy Grail War at least. They needed to work together, not make doe eyes at each other.

Stupid reflexes.

~~~I========>

Ohgi Kaname buried his face in his hands. "How bad is it, Kallen?"

The girl on the other end of the radio line sounded extremely annoyed. "Bad. We went the wrong way. Ran into - literally - a Britannian general, who recognized the capsule."

The man with her, Nagata, added, "We got away, but he got pursuit after us. They forced us further north, and eventually trashed the truck. There was no way we were getting the capsule out, so we ran. We've been trying to call our train station contact, but no word on where he bugged off to. Any odds on getting the boys up here soon enough to retake it?"

Kaname shook his head, glancing around the truck's cargo compartment - refitted into a makeshift APC - at the other members of the resistance cell. "Not for a couple of hours yet. I'll call around and see if I can find some of the local groups to fill in, but..."

"Oh come on, Ohgi!" Tamaki yelled from across the compartment. "You can't be serious! This's our job, you can't let everyone and their monkey in."

Kaname held up his hands. "I'd rather we did it alone too, but before that I'd rather it got done at all. I just can't guarantee we'll be there in time, Fuyuki resistance groups will be."

Tamaki fell back in his seat, grumbling.

"... Why'd you go the wrong way?" Kaname had to ask.

Nagata made a sort of strangled whining noise in the back of his throat.

"... I'm not going to go into it," Kallen stated, flatly. "We don't really have the time to discuss right now, I'll tell you the details later."

Kaname nodded. "All right, I'll take your word on it. What about you? How are you doing up there?" It was obviously Nagata's miss, but Kallen was right, they had more important things to do than chastising the man for a mistake he already regretted. They could do it later - and if they actually could and everyone was alive, he'd consider that a victory.

"Could be better," Nagata noted. "Could be a lot better."

"Could also be a lot worse. No bullet wounds, and the knightmare's just a little dinged up," Kallen added. "We finally managed to find a hiding spot, and the Britannians don't seem to have caught us yet."

"Only a matter of time."

"Oh, time! Ohgi, while you're talking to your contacts, see if they can scrounge up an energy filler for the knightmare? We're down to about ten minutes full power left."

With that admission of Kallen's, Kaname was starting to lean towards Nagata's somewhat less-optimistic viewpoint. "... I'll see what I can do. And? The cargo?"

"Looks like our information was right and it is poison gas," Kallen stated.

"Or at least something they really don't want us to have," Nagata added. "They had knightmares and VTOLs after us within minutes."

"And the city's surrounded," Kaname pointed out. "It's not going to be easy to get in or out. I think they put half the national garrison on this one."

"... Ohgi, get us that support. The way the Britannians are moving... I don't like it." Kallen's voice sounded... Kaname did not like hearing that from his best friend's little sister.

Kaname frowned. "What do you mean? We can't get a whole lot out here, they're blacking out information sources fast."

Nagata swallowed. "It's... hard to describe. It's like they're only looking for us on a cursory basis. They got another priority. And I don't know what it is."

"... I'll get you that support. Hang tight, and save your power."

"We'll do our best," Kallen agreed, shutting off the channel.

Kaname took a deep breath. Nobody in the resistance community was gonna be happy with him, but someone needed to be up there, and fast, before the last communication lines were cut off. He lowered the radio. "Minami, step on the pedal. Get us there yesterday."

The bespectacled man up in the driver's seat simply nodded, and there was a pull of acceleration

"Inoue, Yoshida, Sugiyama, Tamaki, call up everyone you can think of. Find us whoever you can in Fuyuki, and get them informed. When the Britannians drop the hammer, I want someone to catch it." He set to that task himself.

Hopefully he was overreacting, but he had no idea what Britannia was going to pull, and they had rarely done anything that benefited the Japanese.

~~~I========>

Matou Kokoro kept an eye on her... husband... as she knelt in the damp darkness of the worm storage room, noting several blank storage spaces - Zouken must have hidden the various 'familiars' of the Matou clan so as not to drive off his new tool. She shook her head and returned to working on the summon circle. She wouldn't mind changing her family name now, if it were actually an option. But she didn't know what to change it to...

But then, no matter what she hid it behind, she was still a Matou woman. Her legacy, body, and 'grandfather' weren't going to go away, whatever label you put on it. Just the same, it'd be nice to be away from this house for a few weeks. She was always going to be Matou Zouken's tool, but for the Holy Grail War at least, she wouldn't be constantly reminded of it.

Lelouch shuddered, panting for breath - or more accurately, panting to cool off his overheated body. Kokoro had put some ice packs around him and warned him (he'd seemed to believe her, but shrugged it off... whatever it was he wanted, he wanted it badly), but forcing his circuits active - the necessary first step in giving him the qualifications to be a Master - was very painful, pushing a part of the body that was relatively underused to constant use. Somewhat like going from crawling to running a marathon.

Still lucky, though. There wasn't enough time for his body to be... adjusted for the Matou style of spellcraft. Even a three-month program would inevitably kill him, a two-week program wouldn't even leave him alive long enough for Zouken to... use. He'd have to learn the normal way. Whatever he could learn in a few weeks, at least - most likely all he'd be able to do in that time would be provide his surplus of power to his Servant, and maybe reinforcement.

Kokoro hoped he survived. It wouldn't be easy - first the Holy Grail War, and then hope Zouken found him more useful alive and unhurt.

"Das Material ist..." Lelouch proceeded to rattle off the entire incantation, and then, apparently just to point out that he'd memorized it, repeated it in Britannian and Japanese.

Kokoro stared. "... You can talk already?" He was acclimating to the circuit unusually fast. He really did have it... an affinity for magecraft... Even a boy off the street was better than the scion of the Matou these days.

Lelouch gave a pained nod. "Y... yes."

Zouken smiled. "Perfect. You have the incantations, and the signs of the Command Seal are starting to appear. Girl, hurry it up!"

Kokoro yelped, backing out of the circle. "I'm done, Grandfather..."

Lelouch forced himself to his feet, staggering towards the circle. "Should I begin, Matou?"

"I would advise it. The schedule of your countrymen is moving rapidly."

"That is not my nation," Lelouch snapped.

"I do not especially care. Call your Servant before bombs drop on this house, and do with him what you will."

"As you will it..." Lelouch smirked, suddenly standing tall, arms widespread. "Das Material ist aus Silber und Eisen!"

A shiver ran down Kokoro's body as she watched, eyes widening.

"Der Grundstein ist aus Stein und dem Grossherzog des Vertrag," he continued.

His voice had completely changed.

"Der Ahn ist mein grosser Meister, Schweinorg."

No longer the diffident, apathetic behaviour of before.

"Schutz gegen einen heftigen Wind."

His voice was powerful. Passionate. He spoke from his very deepest core.

"Schliess alle Tore, geh aus der Krone, zirkulier die Gabelung nach dem Konig!"

This was the true Lelouch.

"Full, full, full, full, full."

The man willing to put his life on the line for his wish.

"Es wird funfmal wiederholt."

The circle built up a dark, powerful light. That was a complete contradiction in terms, and yet the blackness rolling off the circle made it easier to see. Pushing back the darkness of Zouken's workshop.

"Nur ist es die volle Zeit gebrochen!"

For a moment...

"... Satz." Lelouch paused here, catching his breath.

Just a moment...

"Du uberlasst alles mir, mein Schicksal uberlasst alles deinem Schwert."

Kokoro dared to believe this man could win the War.

"Das basiert auf dem Gral, antwort wenn du diesem Willen und diesem Vernunftgrund folgst." The key words of the ritual came out calm. Stately.

And even beyond... not depend on the mercy of Matou Zouken.

"Liegt das Gelubde hier!"

It was impossible.

"Ich bin die Gute der ganzen Welt!"

But just for a moment, her rationality couldn't shut out that wild thought.

"Ich bin das Bose der ganzen Welt!"

'I am the one who will become all the evil of the world'. This oath, he meant. He had to. No one could lie with such determination. And he knew the meaning behind his words. He would do whatever it took.

"Du bist der Himmel mit dreien Wortseelen,"

The shadows at the back of the workshop moved, drawing Kokoro's jerky stare. There was nothing there. Zouken had moved the worms out - the better to keep his new tool placid.

"Komm, aus dem Kreis der Unterdruckung, der Schutzgeist der Balkenwaage...!" Lelouch finished the incantation with the same flair he had begun it, breathing slowly.

But nothing formed in the circle.

Kokoro's lips parted. "No way..." She... wasn't going to be able to...?

Lelouch took a deep breath, and added one more, magically irrelevant, phrase. "The King must lead."

"Or who would follow?" the woman in the circle answered, a twisted smile crossing her face.

Kokoro jolted, staring.

The Servant - she had to be a Servant - stood calmly in the circle, body standing lightly, set with an absolute confidence. Afraid of nothing - the blades of an enemy or the disapproval of a friend. She actually looked a little younger than Kokoro, but that meant nothing - the bodies of Servants were the bodies of a hero in the prime of their life. Dark hair, around shoulder length, hanging over just slightly pointed ears. Blood red eyes. Slender, short, with a long black trident hanging from her hands, just barely scraping the magical circle. Her clothing was simple - a short black short-sleeved dress decorated only with a red bow at the collar and a bit of lace, black stockings up to her thighs, red heeled shoes. Kokoro thought she looked Britannian, like Lelouch, but then that would only be if she were human. Heroic Spirits threw everything off, and the ears suggested something other than human in the girl's ancestry.

The trident's blades swirled around the circle, the Servant moving with a perfect grace that turned even idle gestures into the moves of a dance. "And thus I ask: Are you the one who has called me back into this world?"

Lelouch took another, steadying breath. "I am. You may call me Lelouch. I will give you the rest of my name at a better opportunity."

The Servant smirked. "Then I will do the same. For now, I am the Servant Lancer. What is the situation, Lelouch?"

Lelouch glanced at Kokoro. "How much has the ritual provided?"

Kokoro blinked. "Ah... she should know about the Holy Grail War." Lancer nodded. "Basic information on the modern world is provided. But I think you have to look it up. Specifics of the situation are not."

Lelouch turned his gaze to Zouken. "Anything else, Matou?"

Zouken shook his head, a hideous smile lighting his face. "Have fun in the War, Lelouch, Master of Lancer. Fight for your wish with everything."

"So that you can take it, I know," Lelouch waved the Matou patriarch off.

Kokoro stared. He knew? ... No, of course he knew, it would take a madman to trust Zouken, he was just... insane enough to believe he could handle it...

Zouken's head reared back, and he laughed. "Oh, this War will be quite the show! Yes, Lelouch! Fight for me with all you have!"

"He's loud," Lancer noted. "Want me to kill him now and be done with it?" Her trident rose.

"No! Don't!" Kokoro yelled, jumping between the Servant and magus - there was no way she could stop either, but hopefully her presence would deter. Not to protect Zouken - there was no way he could die - but to protect Lancer and Lelouch. The Matous had developed the Command Seal system in the first place. She knew a dozen exploits on her own, there was no telling what Zouken could do to an uppity Servant, and there was no limit to what he would do. She turned her eyes to Lelouch, trying to communicate the danger.

... She didn't know if he'd seen what she was trying to get across, but he saw something, and shook his head. "Later, Lancer. He'll keep."

The trident rose further and up into the air, the girl leaning it against her shoulder. "As you will it, Lelouch."

The newly minted Master took a breath. "I will keep your granddaughter alive, Matou Zouken."

Zouken shrugged. "I don't really care. My heir doesn't need to be a relative. If you provide a grandchild I'll use them, if she dies I'll pick some orphan off the street."

Kokoro didn't wince, or really react to the statement at all - she'd known it as far back as she could remember, after all. Lelouch seemed to twitch at it, though... as did Lancer.

"Really looking forward to 'later', Lelouch," Lancer stated. The shadows seemed to stretch out towards Zouken. "I was adopted myself."

"It will come." Lelouch started towards the stairs. Probably eager to escape the smell. Kokoro was used to it, but for someone who wasn't...

The Servant laughed, following behind him and vanishing into her spiritual form.

Kokoro blinked, grabbing the medicine bag and quick-stepping to catch up.

"Kokoro, can you head up to your room to pack anything you want to bring? We'll wait for you outside with Rivalz. Then we'll see what we can do about that 'level the city' plan the military's got in play, with one spearwoman and three teenagers." Lelouch sounded rather doubtful. But less so than before.

Kokoro nodded vigorously, speeding up towards her room. "I'll be out soon!" She was going to pay for the exertion, her physical condition was pretty bad, but it was worth it.

She wasn't going to take much, and then she'd be out of here.

~~~I========>

Takara paged through the book, frowning. "I'm thinking pre Iron Age... but the weapons are weird, they come from all over, you had a katana lodged in you..."

Berserker nodded, invisibly. "It would seem to be a... hero, if that is an appropriate word, who owned... much. Each of those weapons held the presence of a Noble Phantasm."

Takara nodded, gnawing on her thumb. She and Berserker had, after confirming the disappearance of the golden Servant, ducked into the nearest library. Using a compulsion to keep it empty - she wanted to be careful and keep any bystanders away in case he came back - and settling into the library's mythology section. While she had the opportunity, she wanted to see if she couldn't mark out who she was up against and what they could do.

Even with Berserker's power, she didn't exactly feel comfortable just throwing him up against someone who was carelessly throwing around Noble Phantasms.

"In that context, it's a bit of a pity that they disappeared when he did. Must've been a Command Seal, he looked just as surprised."

Berserker gave a low-voiced chuckle. "Planning to start a collection, Master?"

"Next time, definitely. I hope they stick around under normal circumstances." Takara ran a hand through her hair. "... It's not coming together. That collection is impossible. The styles are millennia off, and from every separate corner of the world."

"... Perhaps it is a Servant who ruled the world? Or rather, the world as it was known then? The mythical association could have updated. If everything in the world as it was then belonged to him, then perhaps the legend would add everything in the world since?"

Takara hummed, paging through the book a bit more. "That'd narrow it down, we can at least tentatively go with that. Rulers of the known world..."

"Alexander the Great?"

Takara shook her head. "He called his military 'Companions'. I... did not get a feeling like that off Goldie." She paused, glancing at her Servant. He actually looked a little hilarious, with his huge hands carefully holding a book. "... Roman?"

"No. Their metalworking was garbage, that armour would be impossible for them unless they stole it from the Celts."

"Well..." Takara trailed off as Berserker's head jerked to the left, staring through the wall. "... Berserker?"

"I heard-"

A shrill scream tore through the air. Focus shattering, Takara's compulsion dropped as she jerked up to her feet, books flying through the air. "Did he come back?! I thought we-"

"There is no Servant," Berserker growled, striding out to the library wall.

Takara followed, as more screams, and a pounding sound of gunfire penetrated the library's soundproofing. "Well whatever it is..."

Berserker apparently wasn't waiting for orders anymore, as he punched through the library's outer wall and stalked out.

"Hey wait, Berserker!" Takara yelped. "Are you crazy?! I can't modify memory! The Association'll kill anyone who sees you!" She darted out after him.

And then stopped, brain freezing. The sounds were no longer muffled by the soundproofing.

Screams. Gunfire. Cannons, crumbling buildings.

On the street in front of them stood a roughly four-meter tall metal humanoid figure, painted in purples and grays - a Britannian knightmare frame.

A submachine gun sized for it clutched in its hands. Pointed at-

Firing upon a woman in a housedress as she ran.

There was little left of her.

Takara's jaw shook as she looked around. The road was... fast approaching ruined already, cracks in the cement, blood everywhere, holes in buildings, arms and legs and exposed bone and-

While she was frozen, Berserker charged the knightmare with a roar.

It turned, surprise in its stance, gun raising to fire upon the large man - still dwarfed by the machine.

Hit, and hit, and hit, and hit, and-

Berserker did not care about such pitiful things. He arrived in front of the knightmare, left fist arcing out to the center of the knightmare's torso - such an enemy was not worthy of his sword.

The knightmare's chest caved in, and it flew back, slamming into a nearby grocery store, the impact crushing the cockpit compartment on its back. Blood spilled from the rents in the metal.

Berserker turned down the street, and charged again.

Takara stumbled after him. She had to stop hi... no. No she didn't.

Right now, she didn't give one whit about the Association's secrecy rules.

This had to stop.

~~~I========>

"... Master," Lancer began, fading back into existence in the face of the massacre. "I am going to kill them all. If you wish me to stop, I will demand a Command Seal in exchange for their lives."

Lelouch looked out over the bloody scene, and found it in himself to smile. "I see we're going to get along just fine, Lancer." Apparently, now it was time to see just how a Servant compared to modern warfare. He was damned well hoping Zouken wasn't overestimating it, because Lancer was the only tool he had to stop this... absolute insanity. What in hell was going on? Had Clovis just snapped, between the incident in Osaka yesterday and whatever had started up here? He hadn't been like this.

The Servant offered her own smile, and then with a spring of her legs, arrowed forward, trident outstretched.

The first Sutherland - facing away from them, too busy gunning down an elderly couple to the chorus of screams - died instantly, the three points of Lancer's weapon sinking in one side of the cockpit armour and coming out the opposite end.

Its partner turned - likely alerted by the sudden scream over the radio - and probably more by reflex than any conscious decision, raised its weapon to fire on Lancer as her heeled shoes touched back to the ground.

She, for her part, raised her weapon - with the first Sutherland still impaled on it like a roast pig - and shifted it between her and the knightmare, using her first victim as a shield for the bullets, and then slamming it forward into the second. Whether it was the points of the lance or the crushing from being hit with another knightmare frame, the gunfire died off quickly.

With a smooth, beautiful gesture, Lancer's trident slipped out of the two knightmares, and she turned northward, arms outstretched, her shadow rising to brush at her thighs...

Then she frowned, and with a bare tap of her foot against the ground, between one blink and the next, returned to stand in front of him. "Lelouch, my prana supply is irregular. I can't deploy my primary Noble Phantasm." Her shadow was still moving, though it was quieting down... "I can kill them all, but not in a practical timeframe." She gestured around the shattered street, taking in both the torn and mangled bodies, and the few survivors staring at them in awe. "A lot of people will die in the time it takes. If you've got a plan, now's the time, or I'll work on one."

Lelouch frowned, looking around. Half the terms she'd just used meant nothing to him, but she was right - people were dying now, another dozen with every moment he took to ask for a definition.

... He wanted to stop this, but what in hell was he supposed to do? Even with the power to destroy any enemy in front of him, as Lancer had demonstrated, what was he supposed to do about the enemies across the city? He didn't have an... army.

Yes he did.

Right now it was an army of four people, but it was a start. His smirk returned. He had all the tools. He just needed to put them in place. He could do this. And far more beyond.

"Kokoro, thank you. Because of you... I can finally start."

The purple-haired girl blinked slowly, hand on Rivalz's shoulder - the boy was still out of it and apparently unable to really process what he was seeing, though Lelouch wasn't sure how much of that was shell shock from what they were seeing and how much was Zouken. So Kokoro had needed to... well, keep him from running into gunfire that his mind was failing to register. "What do you...?"

"Lancer, find another few targets," Lelouch commanded, voice serious. "Minimize the damage to them. I don't care what you do with the pilots, but I want the knightmares to remain intact. Cockpits at the very least, the rest is optional but preferred."

"Two coming around the corner now," Lancer reported, springing away to the next side street - a distance of nearly a hundred meters, Lelouch didn't fail to notice.

Probably coming to investigate the loss of these two, Lelouch decided.

The two purple-painted knightmares skidded around the corner on landspinners, and instantly - possibly even before they'd actually arrived - Lancer pounced, trident lowered away, right hand extended.

An instant before she hit the lead knightmare, she vanished. Like a puppet losing strings, the knightmare collapsed, and she reappeared, springing off its back to the second and vanishing again.

What was she...? Ahhhhh. Lelouch's smirk widened. Zouken had said it. She was a ghost. She'd simply rematerialized inside the cockpits. Leaving a shocked pilot to face off unarmed against someone with the strength to throw Sutherlands.

With a gesture to Kokoro, Lelouch trotted up the street towards Lancer's new position, holding up his hands to hide his face from the survivors he passed. He doubted they were paying much attention given the circumstances, but just the same, having his identity spoiled now that he was finally starting would be just too cruel.

Kokoro followed, apparently realizing what he had in mind and using the medical bag to hide Rivalz's identity as best she could. Her own was probably a lost cause, her long flowing lavender hair was not going to be hard to recognize, especially given that she lived here.

While they walked, Lelouch examined the back of his right hand. He was going to have to take to wearing gloves - he now boasted a red, glowing tattoo, three parts melding together in a shape not entirely dissimilar to a sword. Presumably, the Command Seals. Whose function he could somewhat guess at, but really needed to ask Kokoro about the details when they had the time.

Soon enough, they reached the knightmares, and Lancer looked at him. "Hijacking the enemy's communications?" For someone whose sole exposure to modern warfare had been the last five minutes, she was quick.

Lelouch waved a hand. "More 'any communications', right now, though the enemy's are good to have." He pointed back at the first set of knightmares she'd trashed. "The pilots should be wearing a metal earpiece. See if one survived your thrashing and clip it on. Set it to," he provided a radio frequency that wasn't one of the common military bands. "If the knowledge the summon gave you teaches you how - if you have any trouble, come back and I'll show you. If there's a second, bring it for Kokoro."

Lancer flashed away with the same blazing speed as before, leaving the impression of a grin.

Lelouch stepped up the rest of the way to the knightmares. "Kokoro, I don't suppose you ever learned how to use one of these?"

Kokoro stared at him. "... Um... no... you did? What do they teach Britannians...?"

Lelouch smiled. "Not usually that. I only know the basics, and I'm a bit of an anomaly." It was pretty complicated to operate, and his own training was more or less limited to using his mother's Ganymede to make pizza since he'd come to Japan - the Ashford family couldn't afford to actually run the knightmare any more than that, so he'd really had very little opportunity to get experience. Besides, however good he became - and despite his mother's incredible skills, he hadn't inherited them - he'd only be able to defeat the enemy in front of him. His own goals were far, far too ambitious to be satisfied with that.

He climbed up to the cockpit, fiddling with the hatch. In active use, Britannian knightmares were much less securely locked than when in storage - Britannian doctrine had been cavalry-focused for centuries, and they considered the risk from infantry being able to break in to be outweighed by the advantage of the pilot being able to more easily escape a trashed knightmare. Not a surprise, the pilots were always at least minimal-level nobility and damned expensive to train.

He was rewarded with the metallic smell of blood as it opened, reaching in to pull out the pilot's corpse. Woman, he idly noted, though given that her skull had been crushed like a melon, he didn't feel like evaluating much more.

Guh. She wasn't heavy, but he was hardly strong. Kokoro arrived up with him before long, and helped him heft the pilot out with a short burst of that superhuman strength. She was made of sterner stuff than he'd expected. He knew he was an anomaly, since not many people had seen their own mother's bullet-riddled corpse and then the next year been at ground-zero of an invasion, featuring ten-year-olds (him) helping haul people onto funeral pyres. He was sort of used to corpses by now. Then again, who knew what she'd dealt with from Zouken?

Before tossing the pilot's corpse out onto the street, he grabbed her earpiece, and wiped his hands off on her uniform - his piloting was going to be unspectacular enough as it was, adding in hands either sticky or slick with blood on the controls would hardly help. Ideally he wouldn't be banking much on his piloting skills, but then in an ideal world, he wouldn't really have much to do at all.

He slid into the cockpit, clipping the earpiece to his ear.

He was instantly rewarded with Lancer's light voice. "Can you hear me?"

"I can. Got it working, then?"

She flickered into view in front of the knightmare, looking up at it and tapping at the earpiece hanging on her right ear. It was somewhat awkward, having obviously been designed for a normal-shaped ear, rather than her gently pointed pair, but it stayed on. "Got another for your friend."

"Perfect, toss it in here."

The Sutherland's factsphere sensors could only detect her movement as a series of flash frames as she arced around to the still-open cockpit on the back, a perfect throw slipping it in over the cockpit seat and into Lelouch's hands - though he fumbled the catch and ended up having to duck down and get it.

While he set it to his desired channel, he idly spared a hand to flick the factsphere sensors to other modes. Lancer was... odd on thermal, the heat distribution was far too even, rather than concentrated in core points, but she definitely showed up.

"Lancer, can you go spiritual?"

He presumed she could, because the thermal picture dimmed a bit. Still evenly distributed heat, and still visible - which was unfortunate - but dimmer than in normal form. At least now he knew.

And a glance at Kokoro in the eyes of the factsphere revealed that she was running distinctly hotter than humans tended to. Probably the... 'circuits', his own body felt like he'd had boiling water poured inside it with the things on. It was far better than at first, and he was getting used to it - at this point the pain was only sharpening his mind - but clearly spellworking generated a significant amount of heat. Which was good to know for any future battles against magi, but not an issue for this one.

Lelouch tapped one of the cockpit controls, extending the seat out towards the open hatch, where Kokoro still hung on. He held out the earpiece. "Put this on, and keep Rivalz safe. I'll direct you around any troop movements - find survivors and get them to safety if you can - and ask you any 'magic' questions that come up." His voice softened. "All right?"

Kokoro nodded sharply, taking the earpiece and clipping it to her ear. "Do you have a plan? Are you going to try and make an escape route?"

Lelouch smiled. "As long as we're dreaming, let's dream big. I'm going to save us. I'm going to save this city. Then I'm going to save this country. And then I'm going to destroy Britannia." The question marks in his long-range plans were already filling in. The first goal led to the second, the second to the third, the third to the last. He had a direction; time to run.

She stared at him, wide-eyed. "... The story about your wish is going to be a long one." At his nod, she dropped from the hatch, stepping back from the knightmare and nudging Rivalz away - he was still placid and somewhat listless.

Lelouch truly hoped he recovered, because it was disturbing seeing the normally-active boy like that. If he found out the cause, he would extract the price in blood.

He tapped the controls again, drawing the seat back into the Sutherland and sealing it up, turning his gaze to the knightmare's tactical map. The city was surrounded, with dots of light representing Britannian units - knightmares, VTOLs, IFVs - moving evenly through the city on their mission of murder.

And his search was rewarded with an indicator of the G-1 mobile base from which this massacre was all being commanded, to the southeast - right on the opposite side of the river, at the very southernmost end of the city. Later target, though, he needed an army first. It was quite well-defended at the moment.

He tapped the earpiece. "Lancer, I'll be directing you to targets. Try to avoid being seen - I'd like to keep you secret. And as before, minimize the damage to the knightmares." He brought his back up to its feet, and kicked off the landspinners, skating down the streets - flipping his IFF off with an idle motion.

"Got it. Assembling weapons for your grand army?"

"Naturally." Now he just needed the army. There were rebel cells in Fuyuki, he knew that for certain - at the least there was the owner of that red Glasgow, if they were still alive. He just needed to find where the fights were - fortunately, he was listening in on the Britannian communication network, so that wasn't too hard. Win some early trust, get them equipped, get them listening to him, and he'd have an army. Still going to be smaller than what the Britannian Forces had here, but he wasn't in a position to be picky. As long as he had something to work with, he'd be satisfied.

With that, he could stop the massacre. Lancer's weakness in this battle was that she was only one - unimaginably powerful - person. Unless she had a trick she hadn't revealed, she could only be in one place at once, could only stop one enemy at once. The local rebels, though, could be in many.

He steered his used Sutherland northward, charting a course towards the nearest Britannian unit - a lone IFV. He believed in leading from the front, but he'd have to get a much better feel for his frame than he had now or he'd just die in the attempt. And this knightmare's neural network was acting sluggishly - didn't seem to like him. He was going to use the fact that he knew where it was and it didn't know where he was to backstab it, of course, and killing off the infantry-carrying units was a priority - as with Lancer, knightmares could only kill a couple people at once, an infantry squad could kill a dozen.

End goal of this push was the coastline up at the north - the units surrounding the city up there were comprised of aquatic knightmares, and if he could grab a Portman, he had an angle at the G-1, once he could reduce its guard at least.

He'd need to call up a source and see how the Britannian administration was spinning the events going on here, too. Even Britannians didn't have a taste for massacre, he couldn't imagine them telling the truth about it, but he needed details on what they were releasing. Probably best to call Shirley, or Sayoko? When he had a hand free, anyway. He wanted someone to tell Nunnally he'd be a little late back, too...

Lelouch raised the Sutherland's SMG as he approached the squat gray hybrid of a tank and an armoured personnel carrier. They spotted him coming up, but assumed he was a friendly, continuing with their business of pumping cannon shells into a Pizza Hut.

He tapped the earpiece again, speaking to Kokoro. "Let me show you how a Britannian who hates Britannia must act."

~~~I========>

[Pale Wolf]

~~~I========>

Lloyd Asplund chuckled, looking at the tactical map from the comfort of their (borrowed) knightmare transport. "They're having trouble in the south-center. This's great! Lancelot will pick up plenty of valuable data from this once the devicer arrives."

His codeveloper, Cecile Croomy, gave a long-suffering sigh. "Just don't say that in front of anyone, okay?"

He blinked, looking over at her as he stopped leaning back, letting his seat return to its upright position. "Why not?"

Saintly smile. "Shall I teach you?"

"No thanks." He leaned forward, drumming his fingers against his cheek. "So any idea what they're doing here, anyway? Was there some big terrorist uprising?"

Cecile pursed her lips. "... I don't know. They've been pretty tight-lipped. I think something top-secret was stolen and the terrorists boiled up trying to keep hold of it, but... no way to be sure."

"Mm." He watched the tactical map develop. There was resistance springing up pretty much everywhere, of course, but two main zones of concern, probably better-equipped, better-trained, or better-led groups. Both on the western side of the river, apparently the old town.

One was more southerly, actually somewhat disquietingly close to their position near the G-1 mobile headquarters - a move across the river in the center of town and they'd be facing off against Clovis's personal guard. They didn't seem to be moving with any particular purpose, though - one unit would die to them, then a chorus of screams from the next-nearest target. No apparent goal, just reducing the number as fast as they could, which was dangerous enough.

In terms of casualties, the second wasn't as bad, but there was a very clear trail of nonresponsive units arrowing northward. They were acting to a longer-term plan, and...

"Argh, this is boring!" Lloyd yelled, jumping back in his seat. "Where's the pilot?!"

"He's on his way," Cecile sounded like she was repeating hersel- oh right, she'd mentioned it four times before. "They're splitting off the pilots they're getting in from the Tokyo garrison, he should be here in... mm, an hour, half an hour?"

Lloyd folded his arms across his chest, pouting. "This Gottwald had better be able to bring out Lancelot's true potential. At this rate the operation'll be over by the time he even gets here."

"It's not like there isn't still plenty of activity in the Area," Cecile pointed out. "We came here in the first place because it's the biggest hotbed of military action in the Empire, that's not going to stop after this one operation."

"But I want to see her in action now!" He looked at her, trying for the big doe eyes effect.

Given how she backed away with a mildly nauseous expression, he must've missed. "Well I'm not going to pilot it. I'm certainly not leaving you on mission control, and my synchronization with the AI is horrible. It's a recipe for disaster."

"And from errors, we make new discoveries!" Lloyd shouted, thrusting his fist up in the air.

"Assuming we don't get our funding cut off," Cecile noted.

"Bah. Small-minded little... no taste for discovery..."

"You're the one who blew the entire development budget on the knightmare. We'd have a test pilot on staff... and a truck we didn't have to borrow... if you'd saved two percent of it."

"But look at it, Cecile!" Lloyd jumped up, dramatically waving at the... well, at the tarp that covered it. He was sort of saving the dramatic reveal for when the test pilot he'd managed to borrow off that General Whatsisname finally arrived. "She's beautiful! She's pushed development ahead another fifty years!"

"She costs as much as half a battalion."

Lloyd folded his arms and dropped back into his seat, grumbling. He swore, once this Gottwald guy arrived, he'd have him slapped into Lancelot's seat so fast he wouldn't even have time to read the manual.

And then he'd show them all what Lancelot could do!

Well, Gottwald would. But through him, so would Lloyd!

~~~I========>

Nagata Tohru was, at the moment, mostly trying to stay out of Kallen's way - which admittedly wasn't exactly easy when the only place he fit inside the knightmare (given the amount of bullets flying around outside, he preferred 'inside') was 'nestled in the girl's lap, trying to lean as far to the side and out of her field of view as possible'.

It sort of stung his pride, but 'Kallen has a freaky, freaky gift' was just one of their resistance group's known and accepted facts. She had a real talent for handling these things - they'd all been checked out on the red knightmare, but she made it come to life.

He tried to keep an eye on the screens anyway, as her arms twisted, elbowing him in precious organs as she swirled the frame under a Britannian knightmare's line of fire, rising up with a punch that tore its head off.

The auto-eject kicked in, sending the cockpit flying away to safety. Tohru's gut sort of protested at the thought of that pilot escaping after killing so many, but they didn't really have much time to act on it.

The knightmare crumpled as she disengaged, continuing past it and weaving around the next corner before the gunfire from the trio of pursuing knightmares finished them off. Tohru was pretty sure she was a better pilot, but not better enough to cover the numerical difference, and the 'more advanced enemy knightmare' difference, while their own knightmare was unarmed.

At least those three knightmares had stopped shooting at the citizens to pursue them.

Kallen tsked, spinning around and shooting down the VTOL that had poked above the buildings to track them with a slash haken before ducking around the next corner. "We're at two minutes power, Ohgi! I seriously hope you get here soon, they're going insane here!"

The response crackled, their equipment having some trouble burning through the Britannian jamming especially at that range. "... hope... don't... Only... minutes ahead... their reinforcements..."

... Crap. They were dead. And then so was...

The radio crackled again, a new voice coming on - clear, short-ranged. "Move west!" A powerful, rich male voice.

"Wha-"

"Use the last of your life to move west as far as you can go."

"Who the hell is this?" Tohru growled into the radio. "How'd you get this frequency?"

"That is not relevant. If you wish to live beyond the next few minutes, then you will have to trust me."

Slugs from the knightmares behind them slammed into the road just ahead, and Kallen swung the Glasgow around to the right - to the west.

"Wait, are you seriously-?"

"We die in two minutes anyway, nothing to lose!"

... Point.

They skated down the street. Not much damage and no corpses, both of which were a nice change to see. "Oi, what next?" Kallen queried into the radio.

No response.

Tohru's eyes on the viewscreen caught something up ahead that made his heart sink. It wasn't easy to see, but up on one of the roofs to the north, a purple-painted Britannian knightmare was hidden, raising its SMG and aiming towards them.

"... We're dead."

Kallen closed her eyes, agreeing. "It was a trap."

The knightmare opened fire... and missed completely. Normally they had better marksman... ship.

Tohru and Kallen caught it at the same time. The tactical display tracking the three knightmares behind them... they'd stopped.

Kallen whirled the knightmare around, and they both stared into the viewscreen.

One knightmare was riddled with bullets, mangled beyond usability. The remaining two had simply... crumpled.

The voice over the radio returned. "For trusting me, I reward you with your lives! Continue to trust me, and I will give you victory!"

Kallen turned around again, but the mysterious frame was gone.

The voice, however, continued. "Your passenger can, if he is trained, borrow one of the intact knightmares in front of you, and remember to turn off the IFF so they cannot track you. I would advise you to either take one for yourself, or at least take its energy filler. Your knightmare has been active for over two hours and is likely running quite low. Scan the following frequency for the Fuyuki Defensive Network that is being assembled." He rattled off a number, paused, and repeated it once more. "Your designations are Q-1 and Q-2. I would rather no true names over the airwaves."

They could have, and probably should have, asked further questions of him, discussed it among themselves, discussed it with Ohgi, or something.

But they had under a minute of power remaining, so first they skated up to the felled Britannian knightmares, Kallen using her own to grab and attach the energy filler from one of the apparently undamaged ones.

They both heaved sighs of relief as the power readout jumped out of the red. And traded looks at each other.

Tohru shook his head. "I'll get the other knightmare, we'll discuss on the way."

Kallen nodded. "No time to spare." She hit one of the controls, opening the red knightmare's hatch and extending the seat out the back.

Tohru scrambled down, moving over to the fallen knightmares - in particular the one that was A: not riddled with bullets, and B: still had its energy filler. It opened up easily enough, and he reeled back at the sight and smell of the inside.

... What the hell did this guy have? The knightmare was completely undamaged, but the pilot was dead in a pool of his own blood.

... Tohru had just said it himself. There wasn't much time for questions, or the Japanese residents of Fuyuki would be looking like this. Holding his breath, he reached in and pulled the corpse out, slipping into the seat.

Acclimating himself to the controls - it wasn't too different from their knightmare - he brought it up to stand, flicking the radio over to the mystery voice's 'Fuyuki Defensive Network' frequency and reaching down to turn off the IFF.

Meanwhile, Kallen was purloining the SMG from one of the other Britannian knightmares - finally they were properly armed. Though it didn't much suit her style anyway, it was still useful to have.

The frequency was most definitely active, voices all speaking in Japanese. For a moment it sounded chaotic, but as Tohru listened, he realized the mystery voice was rapidly barking out precision orders, sending other units - R-2, B-3, etcetera - to specific target points within the city.

In a moment of calm, Kallen's voice came up. "Oi... who are you?"

The man came back, calm and confident. "One who stands against Britannia. That is all I know of you, and that is all you need know of me - and that is all we can exchange on a frequency that may be monitored. Are you ready and willing to act under my command and stand victorious, knowing only that, Q-1, Q-2?"

"... Listening to you hasn't led me wrong yet," Kallen eventually answered.

"We haven't been getting anywhere not coordinating," Tohru added. Given the man's secrecy, he sort of doubted he'd admit what his 'kill the knightmare pilots without touching the knightmare' trick was, so there wasn't much point asking.

"Wondrous. Q-2, you will see that you have access to the Britannian tactical display, I'm sure." Tohru looked down instinctively, and saw it - highlights on the location of every Britannian unit in the region... oh man... "In the absence of orders, use the tactical display to locate weak targets and destroy them. Focus on infantry units and carriers, they are less capable of putting up a fight and more capable of enacting this massacre."

Tohru nodded. "Got it, I'll lead the way for... Q-1." His tongue had almost slipped.

"Good. For now, proceed southeast to the bridge."

"You want us to cross it?" Kallen queried.

"No. Whoever crosses the river will be at a disadvantage. We'll make them cross it. You are to hide your knightmares as best you can and bleed dry any units moving across the bridge from the east side of the city, or attempting to retreat to it from this side."

"Hey," Tohru had to say. "That's gonna leave us in a bad position when they realize what's going on and mass enough forces to punch through."

"Will you trust me?" A simple, short response. "My plans take longer to explain than to enact."

Tohru snorted. "With an opening like that, you'd better have something spectacular in mind." He was bought and sold. It had been his own... insane whim to change directions that had lit this off. He couldn't toss away any chance of stopping it.

He set his shiny new knightmare towards the southeast, listening to the crows of success from the local resistance groups, and the orders from the man of mystery as he led them in clearing out the west half of Fuyuki.

~~~I========>

Lelouch gunned down another team of Sutherlands from behind as he arrived at the northernmost bank of the river splitting the city in half. He absently switched to a new, fresh SMG as he eyed the tactical display.

His move had basically been made. The defenders of Fuyuki, under his command, had cleared a small zone in the center of the west side of town, and were funneling the surviving noncombatants towards it as they expanded out. Ideally he could get a perimeter to match the Britannian units surrounding the city, and units stationed at all the riverbanks, before his opponent's response came together, but that would remain to be seen.

Two anomalies in the tactical display - or rather, two sources where Britannians were dying without it being attributable to him. One in the forest to the southwest - not expanding, but any Britannian unit that entered a rough two-kilometer sphere died. Self-defensive only. The other towards the south-central section of the city, carving a swathe through the Britannian units. According to the scout he'd sent down that way, 'a big gray guy, unbelievably strong, he's smashing them with his bare-'. The scout had lost contact at that point - likely killed by whoever it was in the assumption that the individual in a Britannian knightmare was part of the massacre.

Lelouch tapped his cheek. "Lancer, Kokoro, I suspect those two are Servants as well. Your analysis?"

"Feasible," Lancer responded. "I'd have to get closer to detect for sure."

"Kokoro?"

"... Probably," she eventually answered. "The Einzbern have a manor in the forest there, and the other one isn't far east of the old Tohsaka home. They're the other two families who started the ritual at the beginning, so..."

Lelouch nodded. "All right... we'll leave them be for now. Later on they'll likely be enemies, but for now we're in agreement on the Britannians. Now, Clovis... what will your move be?"

Lelouch was rapidly depleting Clovis's forces in the west side of the city. From here, he had four options, if he planned to assert control and continue the massacre operation.

Number one, move in the perimeter troops around the west side. Lelouch sort of hoped for this, it would end up strengthening his forces, thanks to anything pushing in from the south having to fight through two Servants before they even came near him, and the overall thin spread of the perimeter units - and, of course, the extra knightmares Lancer would be able to steal for his troops. It would also clear a route for him to evacuate the civilians.

Number two, move forces from the east side across the river. As he'd noted to Q-2, that would leave their forces open to much in the way of casualties as they tried to cross, but they did have the forces to push through, if Clovis moved his personal guard units out to do it. This would be good for Lelouch - leaving his personal target vulnerable to attack - but poor for the Japanese, given the forces that would be pushing into the ghetto. He'd need to do something about that, and quickly enough that Clovis couldn't pull back while he did it.

Number three, don't bother moving forces into the west at all, focus on massacring the east and wait for reinforcements before pushing in. This would force Lelouch to move his forces across the river - it would be ugly, but they couldn't simply be left to continue killing. He'd probably send Lancer out to the eastern edge of the city to start depleting forces over there, equip and stiffen up some of the local resistance. That should force Clovis to deplete something to head out and handle it - either the massacre forces, his own personal guard, or the units he'd have securing the eastern bank of the river. Any of which opened things up for Lelouch.

Number four, get a little creative, use aircraft to paradrop knightmares and infantry into the western part of town. It would open them up to grievous casualties on the way down, but Britannia had the forces to afford it. Fortunately, Lelouch hadn't seen any heavy carrier aircraft in the area or on the IFF, so for now at least it was unavailable to Clovis.

Whatever Clovis chose, Lelouch had a mere half hour to maneuver around and push him to checkmate. After that, the Tokyo garrison units Clovis had brought with him - that terrifyingly large blob of colour on the southern edge of the tactical display - would arrive, and he would have the numbers to simply overwhelm whatever Lelouch could do.

Unfortunately, the Britannian Forces were... outright better. The resistance had barely more, or less, training than he did, except for their 'main pilots' like Q-1. He needed to micromanage them if they were going to manage against the Britannians, the Q group was the only one that could maybe manage on its own even with access to the tactical display, and even he wouldn't be able to run the entire battle at once.

The units on the tactical display began moving. Small initial probe on the bridge. He switched frequencies. "Q-1, Q-2, you have incoming. Prepare to intercept."

At their acknowledgements, he began moving further north, calling Lancer. "We're going to need to hurry now, he'll be making his move soon. Head up to the northern sea if you can, and get a Portman."

He was forced to stare in awe as she faded into visibility next to his knightmare, darting northward, step so light, so fast that she simply skipped over the water without sinking. Servants really were something. That feat was achievable, by the basilisk - the lizard, not the mythological one, he suspected he might need to make such clarifications in this context - but it was utterly unbelievable to see from a human... humanoid anyway. And even a basilisk could only manage five meters, Lancer was already a kilometer out.

He shook himself, watching the display. "You're right over one now, Lancer."

She instantly halted, and sunk beneath the waves.

It was approximately ten seconds before her voice came over the radio once more. "All right, got it. Taking it southward."

Lelouch blinked. "You know how to operate it?"

"The Grail updates their skills for the era they're summoned in," Kokoro provided. "She must have an affinity..."

"I could also have been summoned as Rider," Lancer agreed, as her Portman's IFF flicked off.

Before too long - though Lancer had taken less time to get out there - the dark aquamarine, tightly streamlined aquatic knightmare stood on the shoreline in front of Lelouch's. The hatch opened from inside, and a bloody body was hurled out, before Lancer flickered to a halt in front of his own.

Lelouch smiled. He didn't even need to explain his plans to her, eh? He hit the egress switch on his own knightmare, the seat sliding out the back. He clambered down, pausing to catch his breath, before moving towards the Portman.

Lancer stopped him with a light press of her fingers against his shoulder. "Modification to the plan, Lelouch. You can move ahead to hit the command unit."

Lelouch raised an eyebrow.

"My prana situation has stabilized - I've been draining the soldiers while I was working. Not enough for full deployment, but I can destroy the bridge now, you don't need to use the Portman for it."

"I really am going to need to find out what you're talking about at some point. ... All right, it's in your hands." Lelouch would rather do it himself, but he was already trusting Lancer this much, and if she really could do it, then he'd be able to cut out Clovis's escape window.

Lancer tapped the back of her fist against his. "I'll give the details when we have the time and the privacy. And once I've covered the bridge I'll catch up with you. I've got an idea I'll cover later."

Lelouch raised an eyebrow, but moved on to the Portman. She was right, they didn't have time to spare.

... This was surprisingly tiring. But he needed to push ahead. Victory was a step away, and quite a number of lives, his included, were bet on it.

~~~I========>

Clovis watched the tactical map from his throne, frowning. A simple coverup and retrieval was turning very, very ugly. Bartley's earlier analysis - a crude resistance, but their advantage remaining overwhelming - was already being proven wrong as the forces in the city's west fell apart. "They can't possibly be this well equipped..."

'Lost' messages began springing up on the units sent across the bridge. "Pull them back!" Bartley ordered. "They must be listening in on our communications, change the frequencies!"

"This is the fifth time!"

Clovis gritted his teeth and shot up to his feet. "What is going on out there?!"

Bartley shifted back slightly to acknowledge Clovis, though not tearing his gaze away from the tactical map. "My... my apologies, Your Highness!"

A screen sprang up on the front window - that pale-haired, glasses-wearing researcher under his older brother's command. "Hiya everyone!"

Bartley looked up, growling. "What the hell do you want? We're in the middle of an operation!"

"I've been looking at the display, isn't it time to deploy the Camelot Special Research Division's weapon? All we need is a pilot..." He half-sang that last bit.

Clovis stalked forward, towards the tactical map. "This is not the time for an untested prototype!" More 'Lost' markers continued to spawn in the west. "Move Lazlo's unit in," Clovis commanded.

Bartley turned to him. "... Your Highness, that will break the perimeter..."

"Move this G-1's guard force southward, have them cross the river where it is safe and move up to keep the gap filled." Clovis was over-defended right now anyway. Didn't have the units to spare. "And gather what we have in the eastern half of the city and prepare them to make a push on the bridge!"

Lazlo was one of the southerly perimeter units. Most importantly, it was on the west side of the river. If he could have them blaze by that south-central death zone and attack whatever was holding the bridge from the same side of the river, in conjunction with a strong push from the forces in the east, and they could break into the west and pick apart the resistance.

Clovis carefully watched the tactical screen and... gave a sigh of relief as Lazlo's unit pushed north of the area where units kept dying. "Okay! Move them in! Break through into the west!" Clovis grinned, watching as the units poured onto the bridge.

They had it. They were going to win. Crush this resistance, and return to burning the city in search of Code R's samp-

Clovis paused, frowning. "... Why haven't they engaged?" Lazlo was pretty much there, and the main force was almost across the bridge... "They're not there?!" His eyes widened, and he laughed. "Push through! They ran alrea-"

This was around when every unit on the bridge was simultaneously marked 'Lost'.

Clovis choked, eyes widening. "Wha..."

One of the VTOLs reported in. "The bridge... the bridge just collapsed! I can't tell if there were any survi-!" The display tagged the VTOL as lost.

That... that wasn't fair... his enemy didn't even bother to engage... Clovis backed away from the map, as if to escape his opponent. This was worse than the records he'd seen of Itsukushima... could this be Toudou? Or someone even worse...?

He took a breath, composing himself. Keeping himself hidden had always been his specialty. "All units pull back to the perimeter and hold it until reinforcements arrive." He glanced up at the comm screen. "Lloyd."

"Yyyyyyeeeeeeeees?"

"Can your toy do it?"

Lloyd, for just a moment, looked serious. Like the Earl he was. "Your Highness, that is not in question. Please, call it Lancelot."

Clovis nodded. "Fine. We'll wait until the reinforcements arrive, give you your pilot, and then make our move. We'll give your Lancelot a whirl." He looked around. "... Best to pull back the G-1, as we-"

This enemy really wouldn't let him finish a sentence, would he?

Out of the river, in the middle of his orders, a blue-green Portman leapt. It looked like a Britannian unit. It should have been a Britannian unit. But they didn't have any Portmans down this far south.

Well, that and the fact that it was coming out assisted by slash hakens reeling in, latched onto one of the two guard Sutherlands still remaining near the G-1.

As it hit the ground, landspinners extending, it accelerated the rest of the way towards the stumbling and heavily damaged unit, reaching out with its sharp-bladed manipulator 'hands' and piercing into the cockpit, pushing the Sutherland in front of itself as a shield and retracting the slash hakens.

The other Sutherland froze in surprise for a moment, which was all the Portman needed to fire the slash hakens at it. The bladed hooks slashed into its limbs, forcing an automatic ejection.

Clovis shook himself. "Fire!"

The G-1 didn't have much in the way of armament, but its cannon shifted, aiming at the Portman and unleashing a series of slugs. The Portman kept its Sutherland shield up as it skated closer, and then hurled the Sutherland at the command vehicle - crushing the cannon, as well as a fair portion of the front of the command deck.

As the Sutherland slammed into the windows... and about half of his command staff, Clovis raised his arms, peppered in shards of glass. ... At least he was far enough back to remain mostly uninjured...

His gorge rose as he took in the crushed bodies of the unlucky half of his command staff, faintly watching out the holes in the window as the Portman shifted towards the Camelot unit's transport. ... Of course it was attacking them, that knightmare transport's cargo was the last weapon capable of earning a knightmare's notice in the area.

It didn't seem to actively want to kill anyone, as once Lloyd - dragged bodily by his assistant - came outside the transport and away from it, the Portman stopped its attack, moving to examine the transport itself.

... Oh. Of course. The Portman had to be stolen, so naturally, if it saw an unpiloted knightmare, its first thought wouldn't be to destroy it, but to add it to the rebel forces. ... He lost this too, Schneizel was going to kill him...

"Your Highness!" Bartley yelled, hands on his shoulders and shaking. "We need to get you out of here! While they're distracted!"

"That's not going to happen," a female voice pointed out.

Bartley gurgled, blood welling up in his mouth.

... Ah. That made sense. He had three sharp points sticking out of the center of his chest. A trident, in the hands of a young girl, a...

Clovis stared into her red eyes. It was broad daylight, yet she was barely visible in the shadows... She was wrong. She was wrong. To look at her she looked mostly normal, pretty cute really, with dark hair and plain, understated clothing, but it felt wrong, like there were hissing snakes to her left, angled blades to her right, like her limbs were bent in ways only a spider should be bent, like she held a black trident with a grain like wood embedded through his general... wait, that was actually there.

"I refuse to accept that Britannia has become this," she whispered, twisting the trident - carving a massive, completely unsurvivable hole in Bartley's chest - before slipping it out.

Bartley collapsed at Clovis's feet. "I'm... sorry... Your..."

In the time it took him to breathe out his last words, the command deck had become a bloodbath as the girl with the trident danced through. It was beautiful to watch, but...

Clovis backed away, shaking his head. Blood leaked from his left hand, but it didn't hurt... all his other wounds did though, and this wasn't possible, how could he die like this after surviving Britannia...?

The trident rose to point at him, dripping the blood of his advisors. "Hold there, you disgrace, or I really will kill you where you stand." She spat on the floor. "It seems Britannia is a land of murderers and cowards now. She has not aged well. What happened to the great ally of the oppressed?"

Clovis would probably feel rather insulted, but the whole 'mortal terror' thing somewhat outweighed that. He breathed slowly, staying in place and trying to calm himself. He could do this. They weren't killing him, he could talk his way out of this. If he could just get back in working order...

He watched as the Portman, presumably having secured the knightmare transport, made its way back to the G-1, raising the cockpit to the hole the thrown Sutherland had torn in the window. The pilot's seat slid out the back.

The girl glanced at his bleeding left hand, and an eyebrow rose. "Hm. He's in the running. Though he hasn't called yet, until he does he's not official. Just the same, I cannot say much for the Grail's tastes, Master."

A rich male voice spoke from the Portman. "Go ahead and use my name, Lancer. He already knows it."

From the Portman's cockpit, a young man stepped down onto the command deck. Dressed in a Britannian school uniform of all things, though covered in blood and rather rumpled by the day. With a face that...

Clovis stared, eyes-wide. That dark hair, those sharp, narrow features, those violet eyes...

The boy stepped closer, pausing at one of the dead advisors to pick up the heavy pistol that was the standard Britannian sidearm. With the care Clovis would expect of that face, the boy was already wearing a glove, though only over his right - pistol-wielding - hand. "It's been a long time, big brother."

Clovis swallowed. That was... it couldn't be...

"I did say I would give my full name to you, Lancer, and now seems an opportune time." He shifted slightly to face the younger girl. "Eldest son of the late Empress Marianne, and 17th in line to the Imperial Throne." His left arm came up across his chest, and he descended to kneel before her on one leg. His courtly grace hadn't faded in the past eight years. "Lelouch vi Britannia, at your service."

The girl's eyebrow rose higher.

Clovis shook his head. "L... Lelouch?! But... but I thought-!"

"That I was dead?"

Under his smile, Clovis could say nothing.

"I have returned, Your Highness. For the sake of changing everything." He elegantly rose.

The girl - Lancer, hadn't Lelouch called her? - stepped back, trident lowering, her own twisted smile mirroring Lelouch's. "And now I see why I answered your call..."

Clovis shook himself. "I... I'm so glad to see you're alive, Lelouch!" Dammit! He couldn't get that note of terror out of his voice because he was going to die. He wasn't lying, Lelouch had been his closest friend, but because of that he still sounded like it... "I... I heard you had died in the invasion..." ... It made sense. Lelouch would have encouraged that impression. He knew as well as Clovis that Britannia was a pit of vipers, and keeping himself and his sister out of it... "S... such good news that you're alive! Why don't you come back to the homeland with me?" ... Damn his running mouth, had he just said that?

Lelouch's eyebrow rose. As did his pistol. "You intend to use us as pawns again? Don't forget what caused it - and the greatly exaggerated reports of my death - in the first place."

Clovis winced.

"Correct. Mother was not popular, having originally been a commoner. I see why the remainder of the imperial family would wish to protect their positions. But even so... it was far too cruel to murder her right in front of her daughter's eyes."

He thought... he couldn't... "It wasn't me! I swear, it wasn't!"

"Then tell me what you know."

Clovis shook his head. "S... Schneizel and Cornelia! They know! They have to!"

"They planned it?"

"I... I don't know!"

Lelouch sighed. "That's all?"

"I could bleed him a little, see if he changes his story any," Lancer offered.

"Mm... no. I trust his words. However..." He stepped closer.

"N-no, please don't! I'm your brother!" Clovis brought up his arms to protect his face.

"Which is exactly why. You're my responsibility. And what happened here today... hundreds of people murdered... is not acceptable. I'm sorry - you were a good brother, but an evil man. Perhaps the Grail will choose better for your replacement." His finger slowly curled around the trigger on those incomprehensible words.

Clovis swallowed. But they were just Elevens! He wanted to scream. The people who had kille-! ... Oh. Right. He didn't look very killed.

His life was spared, as an overwhelming force slammed into the G-1, toppling it onto its side. A loud, enraged yell sounded.

He and Lelouch fell sideways, towards the command deck's right window. Lancer didn't seem to care, other than a short, nonsensical yell of "Servant!", kicking off the wall, catching Lelouch bridal-style, and carrying him to lightly land on the new floor - before unceremoniously dumping him and flickering out.

Clovis, for his part, landed much less gently, right on his outstretched arm, legs slamming into the glass and breaking through, eyes widening as the ragged edges of the glass slashed into him. It was... cold, he noted. Probably the loss of blood...

Oh yeah. Loss of blood. Wow... that was... a lot... He'd really have to get to a hospital soon...

His right arm was broken, so he weakly reached out to Lelouch with his left. "Brother... I'm... sorry... I'd have ordered them not to kill you if I knew..."

Lelouch slowly shook himself, probably regaining his bearings and once more turning that formidable mind to analysis.

Lancer reappeared, looking bemused. "We got lucky, Master."

Lelouch blinked, looking up at her. "What the hell just happened?"

"Our grey friend from the south - probably Berserker - smashed into it. We only engaged for a second or so, but he must have been running low on prana, he backed out. As I understand, Berserkers tend to run through it faster, considering how long he was going all-out on the disgraces, he might have even started endangering his Master. Still sane enough to withdraw, though." She waved her left hand - right still holding the trident. "I didn't pursue, I'm not much better off in prana and he was an ally today."

Lelouch nodded. "I don't disagree." He exhaled slowly, looking over Clovis. "The way you are now... you know what Father will do, don't you?"

Clovis nodded mutely. Or he tried to. His neck wasn't moving.

"I suppose this may be a mercy." He raised the pistol once more.

Tears sprang to Clovis's eyes. "I... I... I don't want to die..."

Lelouch remained unmoved. "You would not be the first to say those words today."

There was a crack as the pistol sounded. Clovis didn't feel anything... had he missed...?

"... You would not be the first to have them go unanswered. But, for today at least, you will be the last." Lelouch stepped forward, dropping the sidearm and embracing his brother. "The only ones who should kill are those who are prepared to die. I hope you were, brother."

... Oh. Guess he hadn't missed. Now that Lelouch was brushing it, he could feel the hole in his...

~~~I========>

Wise Up - Knightmare Frame

Ah, yes, I suppose you would be asking about those. They are rather attention-getting, aren't they?

A knightmare frame is a four-to-five meter tall - usually, there are a handful of outlying exceptions - humanoid weapon system, usually weighing less than ten metric tons. In your own timeline, the closest comparisons are fictional.

On most models of this period, you'll see a thin, elongated head up at the top, with a rounded front. The back of that carries the usual communications equipment and quite a load of ECM, while the front is an armour plate over what is designated a factsphere. A factsphere is essentially a thermal/visual camera - I believe technically similar to your own timeline's FLIR, IRST, OLS and such - that is capable of quite a bit of sensor work. The armour over the front does degrade system sensitivity, though, and so the armour can be flipped away. Be warned, while a high-speed Servant is too fast to be tracked by an armoured current-generation factsphere, if they've engaged high-sensitivity mode, they can track. A similar system is used by infantry.

There's nothing strictly relevant to controlling the knightmare in the head, but given the usual expected longevity of a blinded unit, sufficient damage to the head triggers the auto-eject. Of course, you might be advised to be careful, because the pilot can override the auto-eject and some are crazy enough to fight on. I believe you know a few that fit that bill.

Usually around the shoulders you'll see a pair of slash hakens. This is essentially a somewhat large projectile fired by an electromagnetic acceleration rail, attached to a long cable. As the 'slash' part of the name implies, the forward edge is sharpened, and can deal quite a bit of damage. Despite the utility as a projectile, though, the primary purpose is mobility. If embedded within an object, the slash haken can be reeled in, functioning as a grappling hook. Additionally, the projectile, being rather heavy and with a fair level of momentum, can add a slight amount of thrust to a knightmare - for an extremely agile highly modern one, it combined with a leap can make it look like the thing is pole-vaulting off a flexible cable, which is somewhat disquieting to try to analyze.

Next down is the cockpit - a rather large block that hangs off the back like a hiking pack. This consists of the all-important ejection system, a trio of panoramic display monitors, control joysticks and foot pedals...

Heh. 'How can you make a mecha dance with joysticks and pedals?' Very good question. The answer is, they are reins. This timeline's computer technology is, don't forget, quite a bit better than yours. We figured out learning computers - neural networks, we call them - quite a bit earlier. 'Artificial intelligence' is not inaccurate, but they're hardly a super-genius robotic overlord bent on world domination as in your side's fiction - the intellect is no better than, and likely behind, that of a dog. Or, for the more appropriate analogy, a horse. The knightmare's own intelligence handles the fine details of the maneuvers - the pilot's input is for broader commands.

One wouldn't think they could do the wild and free maneuvers they do even with those controls, but the addition of an intelligence, however crude, changes things quite notably - you could see with an equestrian show, or an ancient knight.

The ancient knight and his steed is, in fact, the best analogy - there is a reason Britannia called them 'a knight's mare' when they invented them.

Britannia has had a long cavalry tradition since its inception. Two thousand years ago, the principal mode of British warfare involved nobility on chariots - Julius Caesar made much of them in his writings. Following the formation of Britannia, they started patterning their military off the only enemy to hand Rome defeats - Parthia, which wielded a mighty army of horse archers and heavily armed, chivalrous mounted knights.

As warfare advanced, the knight's steeds changed. Fighter aircraft, at first, though for us that was a short development - our timeline may have mastered the computer, but we did not master the jet engine, and in the end piston-engined planes were rather flimsy as warfare developed. And presently, the knightmare.

~~~I========>

Author's Notes:
First thing's first - thanks go out to prereaders - the list being Sunshine Temple, DCG, Ellf, and Belgarion213.
Yes, Lelouch is now hitched up. Technically, though neither party really feels it. It's sort of a requirement - Kiritsugu had to marry into the Einzberns before he was eligible for their slot. I guess the Grail figures you have to be part of the family to fight for the family. Of course, non-founder slots have no such restriction, but there was no guarantee of getting one (though OOCly, if Lelouch hung out in Fuyuki for long enough he probably would).
Responding to FFNet reviewers:
Stardrago: Stories in the crossover sections don't show up in the main series section. Pretty much nobody would see it, and it is more exporting certain elements (and characters) of FSN into Code Geass.
XIIIth Antagonist: CC and the geass side are still involved, though Lelouch is unlikely to get to her and get a geass.
Guy: I considered quite a few of them, but his Servant is someone who isn't from our world's history or mythology. There're a couple symbolic representations patterned after her, but she's from the Code Geass world's history.
Yambembi: It's actually two generations ago - Code Geass's calendar maps over to the early 1960s, so this is actually the Fourth Grail War, though starting thirty-five years early. Rin's grandmother is still a fourteen-year-old teenager. And histories will come out as Servant identities are revealed.
As far as knightmare/Servant scalings go, the difference in actual performance isn't that high, and sometimes goes towards the knightmare. The biggest advantages a Servant has are sheer skill, and the fact that they can go incorporeal (as demonstrated). A few ace pilots can still give a run, though.
MisterSP: Berserker isn't actually from the Nibelungen. Takara had the ring as a catalyst, but decided not to use it, so she'd get someone suited to herself. I think most of your other questions got addressed in the chapter - Lelouch got lucky in not having enough time even for the Kariya treatment, and Kokoro is pretty much useless as a mage. She hasn't gone as low as Shinji's 'look ma, no circuits' yet, but she's most definitely suffering from the Matou decline.
As always, reviews, comments, corrections, and etcetera are appreciated whether for good or ill, and my email's always open (PaleWLF @ gmail com).

[OSMQEP]

Go ahead with what you've got. Even if you asked it before, it's good to have it written out somewhere.

It is less of a fear of duplicating my questions, and more that I am going to be unable check wording, and such, where that is important. I'm fairly confident of my memory, and I am not worried about losing the general gist.

a) I still have my notes on the questions I was preparing to ask, and statements I was preparing to make, and those were probably already not duplicates.
b) I'm very reactive. I will probably be unable to recapture the exact certainty I had about that identity if I am missing some text. Not to mention that I get a little uncomfortable not checking my work and sources when I'm writing. (Combination of natural tendencies to obsess on truth and precision with formal training to get the math right, and go back and figure out where I screwed up again.)
c) I'm very reactive. I've started watching season one of Geass, and I've also just found out that Bandai put it on youtube. I'm going to have some random stuff related to that. Like, that picture of young Kallen in the first ending is fairly heartbreaking if one first watches it with knowledge of the implications.

Also, I've found I like watching Knightmares.

Heh. Nah, Lelouch is more inclined to Rider or Assassin (though he can be stretched to Archer). (He can also manage all the non-standard classes - Ruler, Saviour, Avenger)

But as I noted in the SB thread, Caster is someone that Lancer will recognize.

I'm more familiar with Conan than any other detective which does deduction shows, and I needed two other servant suspects to pad out Lancer. Caster is a) unknown so far and b) I thought I'd mix silly in with my better guesses. Others were Aturia, and Char. (A newtype can be considered a wizard whose element is space or space travel/technology.)

Well, I won't confirm or deny, obviously. But I can see how one gets to that theory.

We had some information about how inhuman the ancestry of mystery baby x was, and I think similar information independently for Lancer. We may have had some information matching timing. I think we also had implications of affinity for 'giggity' for both. Then there are the issues of how many unneeded details it is good craft to drop, how many similar characters should be introduced, not leaving introductions too late, and other subjective guesswork about writing craft.

I was mainly wanting to go so far as I was because I thought I had a really solid case, as well as a Tiger Dojo joke that wasn't too horrible.

Side question I think. Per Geass wiki, Renya is Edo period and in the same timeline as Lelouch. Anyway, the Philippines are apparently under the control of a Spain cognate power, which would probably put it before the EU forming revolution in War of Kings universe. On the one hand, Spain cognate colonies make me wonder about them not having the colonizing power to take enough of the new world to contest Britannia for ownership around the time of the same EU formation wars. On the other, if some power is occupying the Philippines, Indonesia, Malaysia and so forth, they might've been able to hold down piracy enough to justify not having the Switzerstalians being pulled in out of sheer defense of interests. (Endemic warfare and banditry becomes endemic piracy when enough water is involved. I suspect the first is pretty much the natural state of human societies whenever enough people are living close enough together.) Anyway, I have found memories of certain books on the history of the Philippines.

[Pale Wolf]

Disclaimer: No copyright is mine, thus no copyrighted character is. If you recognize them from something that's not written by 'Pale Wolf', I have no legal claim to them.

Code Geass: The War Of Kings

By Pale Wolf

Chapter Three

Marching Ever Onward To Tomorrow

~~~I========>

"Wait, I'm supposed to change my last name to what?!" Kokoro yelped, staring across the truck's passenger cabin at Lelouch. Lelouch... "vi Britannia?!"

Lelouch cleared his throat, averting his eyes to the manual he was reading. "The 'vi' is a personal article. You would probably get your own."

"Lelouch..." It was sort of obvious that he was avoiding the point.

He turned his violet gaze back to her, pointing out "You already knew it was going to be a long story."

... Well. To be fair, he was telling her at the very first opportunity that had arisen. This was basically the first quiet moment they'd had since he'd arrived at her house - Lelouch had maneuvered the terrorists to blow a gap in the city's encirclement and open the way for the citizens to evacuate, picking up Kokoro and Rivalz in this new truck - knightmare transport, driven by Lancer - he'd picked up somewhere along the line. Kokoro hadn't gotten around to asking how, and why he'd picked a vehicle that stood out like this, because the first thing he'd done after they settled in was tell her his full name.

After a bit of silence, he continued. "That said, I am currently living under the name 'Lelouch Lamperouge'. If I - or my sister, Nunnally - were to be found by the rebel groups, we would probably become hostages. And if Britannia were to find us... well, more or less the same. Our present usability to Britannia is that we look like we'd be hostages that the Emperor values and considers a check on his behaviour, but he doesn't actually care. We were used the same way in the leadup to the Japan invasion - keep the Japanese calm, send hostages as an assurance of Britannia's goodwill... then invade anyway. It was our good fortune that Prime Minister Kururugi was kind enough not to execute us, because he did have cause. And the invasion helped me falsify our deaths."

Kokoro frowned. "Wait... aren't you a prince? And a princess? They're just throwing their own royalty away?"

Lelouch held up a finger. "Eleventh Prince, at least at the last update. My father has one hundred and seven - formerly one hundred and eight, prior to my mother's assassination - wives, and a commensurate amount of children. I've had one conversation with the man in my life, during which he disowned me. Britannia is not a place of warmth, Kokoro. Or at least, the royal court is not." He chuckled slightly. Without humour. "Admittedly, I prompted that disownment. My nine year old self was a little too honest with his emotions. I've since learned not to go yelling about matters - simply resolving them. Such lessons are what Britannia does best. Britannia has no use for weakness. Or excuses."

Kokoro leaned back in her seat, not entirely sure how to respond. Though it was a little comforting to know she wasn't the only one with a deadly childhood. "I'm... sorry..." Even so, she wouldn't want to talk about hers. She doubted he enjoyed this either.

Lelouch waved a hand. "You needn't worry about it. We all have our circumstances. Mine are what led me to this point - to you. You paid in dignity and freedom to bring my wish closer to fruition. The least I can do in return is explain what I wish and why I wish for it."

Kokoro's hand covered her mouth as she gave a choked laugh. Dignity and freedom? Not much to lose there... "Don't worry... I didn't mind..."

"I did." Flatly stated, with just a hint of his voice's true depth. "A woman about to marry should not look like she is holding back tears. I regret that my wish brought that upon you."

He paused for a long time, searching for words.

"... With a way forward so close, just within my grasp, I could not turn back. I would not have chosen differently." He stood, slowly, elegantly. "But just the same, I apologize. I put my own desires ahead of yours. I seem to be a poor husband already." He bowed - deep, Japanese-style, but his own grace put a strange beauty into the gesture.

Kokoro flushed, staring at Lelouch. "I... uh..." Her body slowly heated up... no, not now... "... it's..."

"Sorry to cut this off!" Lancer yelled from the driving cabin of the truck. "Map shows Britannian reinforcements arriving back at Fuyuki. They're angling after the refugee and rebel groupings."

Lelouch tsked, standing. "I apologize, Kokoro, for... cutting short my apology to you," he sort of trailed off, probably realizing the silliness inherent in the statement. "I'll need to lure their reinforcements away."

Kokoro nodded shortly. "Uh... can I help with anything...?"

Lelouch glanced around the passenger cabin, eyes roving over the still-catatonic Rivalz, a video camera on one of the seats, a few other scattered pieces of equipment... "I was hoping the old craftsman would finish that costume I ordered before I had to go out into public, but... Kokoro, can you change my clothing, or put up an illusion or something of the sort? I need 'unimaginably flashy' and something that hides my face. And then for you to hold the camera. I'd hoped to do this on live television, but I suppose I'll have to settle for distributing the video."

"Um, yes, I can do alteration... it doesn't take much power. It's not going to be permanent, though. And for hiding your face, I don't think I can do anything you can see through too quickly enough."

"That's fine, I don't need quality or durability at the moment, just quick. I can do this act blind."

Kokoro nodded, standing, and stepping over to Lelouch, trying not to blush too hard as she laid her hands on his shoulders and closed her eyes, setting off her switch - a mental image of quietly opening a book.

As the prana formed at her fingertips, she paused, her eyes opening once more and looking up at Lelouch. "... That's why you used this truck. It was the most conspicuous thing you could find... You're going to use yourself as the bait."

Lelouch smiled. It was a tight, dark smile. "If the commander is unwilling to take risks, he has no place expecting anyone to follow his orders in battle."

"That and the knightmares," Lancer added from the front. "Extra equipment feeds a growing rebellion, and we're not exactly flush enough to go turning it down. The rebels kept their stolen, uh. Sutherlands was it? Too."

Lelouch shifted his gaze to Kokoro as she worked on his clothing. "It seems I still haven't managed to finish giving that whole story..."

Kokoro smiled faintly, putting a finger to his lips. "I've got an idea. I haven't given you my own. ... And I don't really want to talk about it. Apology accepted. And thank you for taking me away, for a little while at least."

Lelouch's smile widened. "Matou Kokoro, 'a little while' is barely a drop in my ambitions."

Her throat tightened. "Grandfather is not casually escaped."

"Neither is Britannia. I'll need to grow a great deal stronger than I am now to win any of these three battles. But now that I'm on the battlefield, it's in reach."

... He sounded so confident... she couldn't bear to say anything.

~~~I========>

Margrave Jeremiah Gottwald kept his eyes on the tactical map, teeth gritted. Right now it was all he could do - he wasn't driving, his knightmare was being carried by its transport VTOL deployed off the train. His desire to do something, to not be helpless in the face of this, was irrelevant next to the need for the VTOL's greater speed.

"Viletta, what's your ETA?" he snapped out. He'd had her split off a detachment to assist Prince Clovis himself... Clovis's G-1 had been unresponsive for far too long. Its IFF wasn't responding destroyed, but...

"We're there, Lord Gottwald," she responded. "... The G-1 is at least half-ruined. A lot of damage out here. Personnel are still here, though, I'll check in. ... The damage wasn't total, it isn't impossible that the attack wasn't pushed fully. He could still be..." she trailed off, not really willing to put the hope in words.

Jeremiah swallowed. If Clovis were still able to be saved, he didn't mind letting Viletta take the credit, she'd been a good subordinate and could use the advancement.

... If not, he didn't want to have to be the one to see it.

"... I'm sorry, Lord Gottwald," her voice returned after a short wait. "... There is nothing alive in the G-1. And Prince Clovis is..."

Jeremiah's fist crashed into his Sutherland's control panel. Not again! This was the fourth time! "Marianne...! Lelouch... Nunnally... Clovis..." A growl built up deep in his throat, and he flicked on the main unit's frequency. "Damned Elevens! Speed up the pursuit! Spread out after all of them, and kill everything that's escaping! They've taken a prince from us for the last time!"

"Yes, my Lord!" came the response in unison, as the knightmare-carrying VTOLs accelerated to their fullest. They wouldn't last long running flat-out like that, but Jeremiah couldn't be bothered with the fuel life when the Elevens who'd killed Clovis, Nunnally, and Lelouch were right in front of him. They could wait around for pickup after they'd won.

"Before that, won't you listen to me?" a powerful voice queried, in the Eleven language. A rogue transmission on their channel, with a communication window popping up on one of Jeremiah's viewscreens. Still blank.

Jeremiah shifted to keep an eye on the comm window. "Who the hell is this?! Where's your comm discipline?! And speak a proper language!" All in Britannian, of course.

"I am... Zero." The blank window unfolded, revealing a man. Tall, dressed in black, trimmed with silver, with a long high-collared cloak wrapped around his slim form. The inside of the collar showed that the cloak's lining was a deep, rich, royal purple. And over his head, he wore a blank-faced helmet, black but for a bright lavender faceplate, with a ridge around the crown of his head, laden with upward-angled points. "And I refuse. This is Japan. I will speak Japanese."

Jeremiah boggled. Who the hell dressed like that? "Take off that ridiculous mask and show me your face. Are you one of the terrorists?"

The voice laughed. "I will show you. Not my face, but my will!" He threw his arms wide, revealing the black military-styled uniform he wore under the cloak. "If you seek to avenge Prince Clovis, then I am here!"

"Lord Gottwald, we have the source of the transmission!" one of his subordinates called. A highlight appeared on the tactical map - one of the various trucks, cars, and whatever else escaping Fuyuki. Quite a distance from most of the other groups - but closer to theirs. They were escaping to the southeast.

"I am the one who commanded the defence of Fuyuki against him," the man continued. "I am the one who executed him for this massacre!"

"Garbage," Jeremiah snapped. "You're an obvious decoy." So far away from the rest? It was obvious he was supposed to lure the Britannian Forces after him. "And what massacre? This was a terrorist attack!"

A dark, low-voiced chuckle. "Wrong, Jeremiah." The man pressed a purple-gloved hand elegantly against his forehead, and exaggeratedly shook his head in mock disappointment.

Jeremiah jolted, but held in most of his commentary. Clearly this... 'Zero'... had done his research on the garrison forces, to know his name.

"You do sound like you believe it. You've been lied to, Jeremiah-kun. What is it you think the rebels stole?"

"Poison gas. Equipment for another terrorist attack like Osaka yesterday!"

There was a cluck of his tongue. "Is that what they told you, Jeremiah-kun? And yet by the records in Clovis's G-1 which you will be able to check for yourself, the container was retrieved. The containment breached. But the people of Fuyuki died by bullets, Jeremiah-kun. Not gas."

Jeremiah switched to a private channel, snapping a quick "Check it!" to Viletta before returning to Zero. "And you're supposed to know what it is?"

"Well of course, Jeremiah-kun. I have it here with me. That which Clovis gave his life - and, might I add, the lives of many innocent Japanese civilians - to retrieve? I suppose, in the end, he will be remembered as a failure..."

Jeremiah's teeth ground together, his entire body shaking. If his knightmare hadn't been in transport mode, it would be rattling from his hands vibrating on the controls. He couldn't send everything after this one. No matter how angry he was making him, it had to be a decoy.

"I am no decoy, Jeremiah-kun. Or perhaps I am? Perhaps I am rewarding the Japanese for having fought so well for me, by ensuring that they are able to escape. Perhaps I am a commander who, like you, does not believe in fighting from the safety of a command center. It seems Clovis learned that such a command center is not quite as safe as he had thought - that he was not escaping the horrors of battle that he unleashed on the innocent quite that easily." Zero laughed, folding his cloak around himself once more. "It is a pity if you do not believe me. A massacre will be continued, and Clovis will go unavenged."

"... You will die with all the other terrorists, Zero. Nobody innocent would be trying to escape." Jeremiah slowly breathed out, voice managing to calm itself. Zero was trying to get him angry. And it was succeeding. But he'd fail Clovis if he lost to his temper here.

The head cocked slightly to the side, as if raising an eyebrow. "Evaluate your force distribution, Jeremiah-kun. I already have. You only have one knightmare coming down this way - it will be easy to destroy. I have very nearly reached the rail line. You will not get a second chance at me. Your VTOLs will be out of range by the time your first knightmare fails."

Jeremiah checked the tactical board... he was right. It was too far for a second shot, and once Zero got aboard one of the bullet trains the knightmare-carrier VTOLs weren't going to keep up. "Then we miss a decoy. Hardly a major loss." ... With that quick tactical evaluation, Jeremiah was starting to wonder if Zero wasn't really...

"You still believe that?"

Jeremiah growled, trying not to give this bastard any more words to latch onto.

"... Lord Gottwald," Viletta's voice came. "Clovis's G-1 records confirm what he said."

"... He was there," Jeremiah whispered.

"Yes, I was!" Zero held an arm out towards Jeremiah, hand curling in a slow beckoning gesture. "You have little time left! If you wish to avenge Clovis, come at me with everything you have!"

"Do it!" Jeremiah barked. "All forces, reroute and target Zero! He's the killer! The rest are just chaff, they don't matter!"

In an elegant dance, every VTOL on the tactical screen swirled around, angling towards the source of Zero's signal.

On the screen, Zero bowed his head. "A wise choice, Jeremiah-kun. Now... you will have to do what Clovis could not, and defeat me." A sharp gesture of his hand, and the image cut out.

Jeremiah swallowed, watching as the VTOLs moved southward, towards the lone truck. And as the other terrorists moved further away.

They were going to escape. Jeremiah just didn't have enough forces with him to attack all the terrorist groups simultaneously with any chance of success. The VTOLs would run out of fuel before being able to redirect, and the Sutherlands didn't have the speed advantage to catch up before their energy fillers ran dry. They'd lose pursuit of anyone they didn't hit in the first wave, and the escaping terrorists would vanish into the hinterlands.

But he did have enough force to assure that he would capture one unit. Zero. He couldn't save Clovis, but he could avenge him. And maybe imagine that this one had been responsible for Lelouch and Nunnally too. He wouldn't fail again!

A short time passed as they arrowed in on Zero. Nobody spoke. All focused on their mission.

They came close enough that video feed was available - it seemed Zero wasn't in a normal truck, but a dull brown-painted knightmare transport. Badly overloaded, it was built for one and was carrying three. A Sutherland, a Portman, and...

The silence was broken by a squabbling on Viletta's comm line. As he was about to chastise her, a voice came on. "Gottwald, be careful!" It sounded like... Earl Asplund? That knightmare developer who'd wanted him? "He took Lancelot! You're well inside VARIS range!"

Lancel... that prototype frame Jeremiah was supposed to...

Jeremiah's gaze focused back on the video just in time to see a spherical bolt of green dart up from the transport, arrowing into Viscount Kewell Soresi's VTOL and tearing it from the sky in flames.

The shot had come from one of the knightmares on the transport. A beautiful white and gold machine, gleaming as if it'd never seen a battle, angled, armoured, lightly built, with a long, somewhat blocky rifle braced in its hands, and two factspheres exposed from their armour plates at its upper chest.

"This is quite the toy you made, Britannia," Zero commented over the radio. "She responds like a dream. As payment for the trouble, I'll be taking it now!"

The Lancelot's rifle tracked to the right.

Jeremiah's face paled. They were sitting ducks out here. They had almost nothing that could hit a damned thing at this range - Kewell had been holding one of their few sniper weapons. And up in the air, there wasn't even cover. Zero and Lancelot could, and likely would, keep sniping them until they finally came in range.

A short flurry of bolts marked the demise of their second sniper, Baron Charles Norris, and his VTOL crew. Lancelot's rifle continued to the right.

Which was assuming even one of them stayed alive long enough to get in range.

"All forces, get out of the air! Down, descend, drop if you have to! Get out of the line of fire!" he yelled. The only possible order one could give. "And all VTOLs are to withdraw!"

The descent was fast, disciplined as always, a wave of VTOLs descending to the ground as one, but not fast enough - three more knights, and the last of their long-ranged weapons, died to that lethal sniper's hail of fire before all the knightmares were safely dropped on the ground.

The VTOLs didn't stop dying, the green bolts still rapidly arcing through the sky above even as they tried to fly away. As to be expected.

Jeremiah flipped out his Sutherland's landspinners and charged after the transport as fast as the knightmare would take, but he knew he wasn't going to make it. On the knightmare's internal power supply, he wouldn't catch up to the transport before he ran out.

There was no way they would catch up to any of the terrorists without the transports. Even if a few escaped the Lancelot's sniper fire, they wouldn't be able to carry enough knightmares to challenge one of the terrorist groups - even one of the other ones that lacked the stolen and operating seventh-generation knightmare.

But he'd have to try, even on the ground. To make the cold equations bend away before the sheer force of his will!

Once more, Jeremiah's fist struck the control panel as the green bolts continued their murderous dance overhead. "ZERO!"

~~~I========>

Kallen wiped her hair out of her face, staring at the Glasgow's screen, even though there was nothing to see. She was staring into the past. Hard to put her mind elsewhere.

"... So, that genius strategist of ours," Nagata tentatively began. "Ham actor? Total ham? Ultimate ham? Incarnation of all that is-?"

"Can it, Nagata," Ohgi tiredly muttered over the radio.

"... Sorry."

Kallen wasn't honestly surprised, though now the phrase 'canned ham' was echoing in her head. They were all still pretty tense, and Nagata in particular had to be feeling guilty, and scared of what they'd say when Kallen got around to telling them the details. But that wasn't really her focus. "... We won. With him, we won. Completely. He turned it around from about-to-die to..." she shook her head in wonder.

Ohgi sighed. "... yeah. You did."

Kallen winced. He hadn't said anything, but she knew what he was thinking. 'So that's the strength of a real leader.' It wasn't fair to himself - despite her admiration for her brother, she'd have to admit that even Naoto couldn't have pulled this off. But comforting words weren't really ones she knew too well, and saying it in public wouldn't help a thing.

She maneuvered her Glasgow closer alongside the rebel group's makeshift truck. "... Think we can fit onboard? Our energy fillers aren't going to make it all the way to Tokyo. And I really don't want to dump the knightmares, not now that we have two."

"Mm... yeah, it'll get a bit cramped for all of us in here but it's worth it, and there's room."

Kallen nodded, weaving around towards the back of the truck as it slowed to a stop. "Nagata, you first."

"Eh?" he jolted. "Ah... right." Under Kallen's watchful eye, his Sutherland came around behind, waited for them to open up the back, and tentatively clambered in, squeezing forward and hunched over.

Kallen clucked her tongue. Not a whole lot of room left, but she'd fit. She slipped her own Glasgow in, and tapped the hatch exit, climbing out of her knightmare as the truck's cargo compartment closed again. Ohgi hadn't been kidding, everyone else was in here. Good thing she wasn't claustrophobic. She squeezed forward past Inoue, frowning. "So... was he telling the truth? What we were after wasn't even poison gas in the first place?"

Ohgi held up his hands helplessly. "I don't know... I mean, he could've been lying, but the Britannians had access to the G-1 records and seemed to believe it. Even then he could've still been selling them a story about having it with him just to get them chasing after him..."

Yoshida nodded. "He's crazy, but the good type of crazy."

Tamaki shook his head. "You kidding? He totally should've run. What kind of idiot commander uses himself as bait?"

"The kind that's crazy," Nagata pointed out. "The good type of crazy."

"Funny."

Nagata shrugged. "Hey, under his command we - not even one resistance group, more like a couple dozen small cells that hadn't worked together before - stopped a massacre and took down a crown prince. That's the biggest win anyone's pulled off in Japan since... hell, since Itsukushima. He may be crazy, but I'm not gonna knock it."

Ohgi nodded quietly, exhaling heavily. "All right... but after this, we're going to have to lay low for a while. They are going to be out for blood. Once we're back in Tokyo, everyone goes civilian again."

Kallen made a face. Back home and school... blah. And feeling a slight pain in her right hand, she blinked and rubbed it through the glove. Had she hit herself on something?

"Try to enjoy yourselves. Especially you, Kallen, Nagata, you earned the break. We'll be back on soon enough."

Kallen pursed her lips. "Hey, Ohgi, about the redirect..."

Nagata winced. Kallen didn't really like doing this either, but it needed to be said.

"Later, we'll debrief on the details in private."

Kallen and Nagata nodded in relief. Another delay was nice, at least.

~~~I========>

"... Why Zero?" was the first thing Rivalz could say, as Z... Lelouch and Kokoro staggered in the gates of Ashford with him slung between their shoulders.

In hindsight, he probably should've expected them to jolt, whirl, and generally move with such suddenness and surprise that their already unspectacular physiques dropped him - face first of course - to the fresh-cut grass.

"Owwwww..."

Lelouch's jaw clenched, though it wasn't all that easy to see - it was already dark. "... I suppose there's no point asking how much you caught."

Rivalz pushed himself half-up, nodding quietly. "... Yeah." He swallowed. "... Where'd... uh, Lancer? Go? I was... okay, you probably noticed, but pretty out of it, and I didn't really catch the details when she split off..."

Kokoro blinked, reaching down to help him up. "... You missed that but not...?"

"It was sort of hard to miss," Rivalz pointed out, rising the rest of the way with her assistance.

Lelouch, frowning, spoke again. "... Lancer is out driving the transport around to ensure it's not being tracked."

"Ah. Cool." Rivalz averted his eyes from Lelouch's gaze. "... I guess this was what all the money from the gambling went to?"

"... Yes, though it was going to take a long time to pool up anywhere near the required funds."

Rivalz grabbed his hair. Gragh! It was more nerve-wracking dancing around the topic than hitting it straight on! "... Are you gonna... after all I saw...?" ... Okay, no, it hadn't been. He didn't think Lelouch was the type... but then he hadn't thought Lelouch was a prince of Britannia, willing to order a superpowered woman to kill Britannians or Prince Clovis who was apparently his brother, or sitting on that kind of natural reserve of ham acting.

Lelouch frowned, and slowly shook his head. "... No. It would be a special brand of pathetic for me to kill Clovis for murdering people to cover up whatever secret got exposed, and then to go and do it myself."

"... I won't tell anyone. I... I mean, I need time to understand all this, and... I can't even believe what the Forces were doing in Fuyuki, that was insane..."

Lelouch smiled. "Watch me, Rivalz." It wasn't his usual voice. It was the serious voice. The Zero voice. "I will freely admit my enmity for Britannia, but I am an enemy of the system, not the people. Evaluate for yourself whether or not anyone must know, as you watch my actions."

Rivalz slowly nodded. It wasn't like he had much choice... Lelouch hadn't actually done anything yet but stop an insane massacre... Well, that and if he squealed Lancer might kill him. She'd already pointed out she was willing to kill against Lelouch's wishes... even if in the context, Lelouch had wished for it and Rivalz couldn't exactly defend the actions of the soldiers who'd been getting killed. And Lelouch was his friend. This was probably way beyond the usual realms of friendship, but he still deserved at least a little slack... right...?

Kokoro coughed slightly into her hand. "I... may be hammering this in a little much, but be careful, Rivalz-san," she injected a bit of Eleven into her otherwise-perfect Britannian. "Some of what you saw is... uncomfortably close to the Association's secrets. They are not everywhere, but it is hard to be sure where they are. If you do tell anyone... don't tell them about the supernatural elements. The Association may hear, and they take their secrecy very seriously."

Rivalz sweatdropped. "It's... not like anyone would believe me anyway." He raised his hands. "I won't say anything."

"Thank you, Rivalz," Lelouch stated, sweeping into a courtly bow. "That trust will not be betrayed."

Rivalz just shook his head, looking at Lelouch. He didn't even have anything to say. What was he supposed to say on finding out that his school buddy, and partner in business or whatever you'd call what they did, was an imperial prince and apparently entirely willing, and able, to destroy entire Britannian military units that pissed him off? He was normally quite a talky type, but when there were no words, there were no words.

The three of them stood awkwardly for a bit, before Rivalz grabbed his things - not a whole lot, but he'd packed a little for the trip to Fuyuki - from beside Lelouch, and started heading deeper into the Academy grounds.

With a bit of a shake, Lelouch and Kokoro evened out their load - Lelouch's own day pack, and presumably Kokoro's things since Rivalz gathered she was staying with Lelouch for some reason... - and followed after him. He was heading to the dorms while Lelouch stayed in a different building, but it was pretty much the same way for now.

They walked in silence for some time, before Kokoro spoke up. "... What secret got revealed that they were trying to cover up?"

Lelouch blinked, turning to her. "Hm? I have no idea. This is just what I have from context and what I found in the G-1's records. An 'item' was stolen, Clovis went to retrieve it, and apparently retrieval looked in doubt so he started burning the evidence - the G-1 had apparently made a call to mainland Britannia, claiming that they were... re-zoning the area," he muttered with obvious disgust.

Kokoro cocked her head, somewhat confused. "... Didn't you say you had it with you?"

Lelouch paused, blinking again. "... Yes, to get Gottwald chasing after me. I was making up whatever might work to figure out what his buttons were. Didn't you... see that there wasn't anything there other than the knightmare?"

Kokoro shrugged. "Honestly? I have no idea what you're doing three quarters of the time. I wouldn't be surprised if you had taken it at some point and I just hadn't caught up yet."

"... Clearly, I'm going to have to work on my communication skills. For clarification, no, that was not one of my plans that I had not yet updated you on. I'll try to get around to the rest... tomorrow. Because I'm going to need to sleep very soon."

"Ah." Kokoro nodded. "Yes, I understand."

They fell quiet for a while longer.

... Wait, Rivalz's question never had been answered, in all the confusion. "Uh, hey, Lelouch..."

"What is it, Rivalz?"

"... Why 'Zero'? Why pick that name, I mean?"

Lelouch smiled, laying a hand elegantly against his temple. "Because I alone am nothing. It is only when others enter the equation that I can impact anything."

... Rivalz hadn't really known Lelouch at all, had he? This had all been there, and he just hadn't noticed. Even now he could see what he'd originally thought to be Lelouch within this... man who exuded the aura of royalty.

~~~I========>

Nunnally Lamperouge rested her head against the back of her wheelchair. It was pretty late - she couldn't see the night sky or the clock, but she could feel it simply in how tired she was. She shifted her gaze a little to her right - she couldn't see the maid, but it was simply polite to look at someone you were talking to, and she could generally 'feel' where she was. "Sayoko-san, did Brother say when he was going to be back?" Sayoko spoke impeccable Britannian, of course, but since Nunnally knew her native language, why not speak it? She didn't get much opportunity to use the Japanese language anymore, anyway.

"No, Nunnally-sama. It did not seem he knew, himself," the maid's serene voice replied. A short pause. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to go to bed? It's getting quite late."

Nunnally slowly shook her head, settling back into her chair. "No... I should sleep, but I can stay up for another hour or two at least. I'd like to see Brother if he can get back soon."

"Understood, Nunnally-sama." The maid settled in at her side.

... Nunnally wondered, sometimes, what Sayoko looked like. She'd first met the woman long after she'd lost her light. With all the kindness she'd been given, it was okay that she couldn't see things, but she still sometimes wondered.

Nunnally's head tilted up slightly. Someone was at the door. "Sayoko-san."

"Hm? Ah, yes, I hear them now. I'll get the door." Sayoko's presence drifted away from Nunnally, towards the door.

'Them'? Hm... yes, it sounded like two people. Was Brother bringing Rivalz in for something? They'd been off playing, she thought. It was a bit late, though...

With a gentle clicking, the door swung open, and Sayoko stepped back, allowing two sets of shoes to tap on the floor as two people, heavily laden down with bags, stepped in.

One was the Ashford issue male shoes... Brother, it had his scent, and the breathing and light sounds were most definitely him. What was he carrying?

The other made Nunnally's eyes widen uncomfortably behind their lids. It was a woman, that much was obvious. A very tentative step, and the way she slipped her shoes off immediately upon entering suggested she was Japanese. By sound, the only thing odd was her presence at all, but by scent... Nunnally recoiled almost imperceptibly back into her seat. She smelled wrong. On the surface, it was a normal girl's smell, maybe a little plain and unhealthy. But underneath - so faint even she could barely scent it - there was... decay, something dead long ago and rotting away...

"Is something wrong, Nunnally?" There was the expected note of worry in her brother's voice. She'd barely moved, but he'd always been finely attuned to everything she did.

Nunnally brought her usual smile to her face... it shouldn't feel this forced, but she didn't want to trouble Brother... "Ah, no, nothing, Brother... who is this?"

Brother shut the door behind them, a pensive feel to him. "That's... a little complicated. Kokoro, this is my sister, Nunnally... Lamperouge." That drawing out before saying it... did she know? Was he considering telling her...?

The woman - Kokoro, presumably - bowed, Japanese-style, in her direction. "I... it is a pleasure to meet Lelouch's sister, Nunnally-sama." Fairly good Britannian, though with the insertion of Japanese honorifics and a light, almost undetectable Japanese accent.

"Nunnally, this is Kokoro Matou," her brother began, taking a deep breath before continuing, "my wife."

"Your what?!" Nunnally shrieked, before clapping a hand over her mouth. She shouldn't have been so loud this late! But... but... her sweet brother had married this woman that stank of dead and wriggling things, that she'd never met, that... She chastised herself even as she thought it, Brother deserved some happiness to himself and she didn't even know this woman, but... her brother... And what about Shirley?

Sayoko's response was probably the more sedate, with a simple inquisitive tilt of her head.

Surprisingly enough, Kokoro's response was almost as shocked as Nunnally's, head whipping around to face Lelouch, sending very long strands of hair whistling through the air. "You... told them...? I thought you'd keep it secret... it's not exactly..."

"I'm not going to lie to my sister, Kokoro." Brother lowered the bag in his hands to the floor, and stepped towards Nunnally, kneeling to stand level with her face. "Allow me to explain. Kokoro was in an untenable position when we met."

Nunnally's head cocked in confusion. She'd been expecting a declaration of love... "What... kind of position...?"

Brother's lips tsked. "It's... very private, and I only saw the surface. If you want to ask Kokoro, you can, but I don't think she's very comfortable talking about it." He took another breath, and continued. "Her grandfather offered to let her go, if I would marry her. It came up in a rush, and there was very little time before the opportunity would have been lost. So, for the moment..."

"Then... then, you're not really...?"

Kokoro swallowed, hair swishing again - she was shaking her head. "No. It's not a whirlwind romance or anything of the sort..."

Nunnally nodded, smiling. That... made much more sense. Of course her brother would try to help someone who needed it, no matter how ridiculous the method required. But... she frowned, just slightly. What if this Matou were lying to him? He was sweet and innocent, it wouldn't be right if someone were manipulating him like this...

"Nunnally? What's wrong?"

She put her smile back on, shaking her head. "No, nothing." She didn't want to trouble him. She'd have to keep an... eye... or an equivalent, on this woman, though, to make sure his kindness wasn't being taken advantage of somehow. "So... she'll be staying with us?"

"Yes, since we don't have any spare rooms I'll set up an extra bed in mine." It sounded completely innocent and businesslike, coming from him.

"No! She'll stay with me!" It was only a moment later that Nunnally's brain caught up with her mouth and she realized she'd just volunteered to sleep in the same room as her, before her brain caught up the rest of the way and reminded her exactly why she'd said it.

Everyone looked to her in surprise - Brother speaking first. "Nunnally?"

She shook her head. "Brother, it's really not appropriate for a boy and girl to share a room. I know you won't do anything bad," though she didn't trust that woman so much, "but it still doesn't look at all appropriate. And Sayoko-san's room is the smallest in the house, it wouldn't be fair to ask her to share. She'll stay with me." She folded her arms across her chest. This wasn't under negotiation. She'd put up with the absolutely wrong feeling she got off that woman if it was necessary to keep Kokoro away from her brother.

The adults in the room all traded looks - she could feel the shifting as they did it.

"Is it... all right, Nunnally-sama?" Kokoro spoke first, voice hesitant. "... I'd be glad to, but are you sure...?"

"Yes," Nunnally stated, able to bring up her usual smile. "... It may just be temporary, but for now, welcome, Kokoro-san." No matter how uncomfortable this woman made her, she was still going to have to live with her for now. And that was precisely what the rules of politeness were for.

Kokoro licked her lips, bowing again. "Thank you, Nunnally-sama."

"I'll go set up the bed, if you'll take your things, Kokoro-san?" Sayoko spoke up.

"Ah... yes!" Kokoro picked up her bags from the floor.

"Lelouch-sama, can I entrust taking Nunnally-sama to bed to you?" A question more of form than anything she really needed to doubt, of course, and the answer was as expected.

"Of course, Sayoko-san, thank you." He stepped around to behind her wheelchair, taking the handles.

"... See you in the morning..." Kokoro whispered as the Japanese women stepped out.

"... Busy day, Brother?" She could feel him leaning up against the wheelchair. And he felt warmer than usual - not in his usual emotional warmth sense, but as in a higher body temperature.

Lelouch chuckled. "Very busy, yes. Very unexpected, quite tiring, but... satisfying."

"Because you did something nice?"

"Yes. It's not often enough that I get the chance to put the right thing into action. And I think it'll just get better from here."

"I hope so, Brother. That'd be wonderful." Nunnally blinked, turning her head. Another presence had entered the room. Very quiet, no sound, but she could still feel the general 'essence' of a person. "Is someone else here?"

Brother's breath halted. "Eh? I... don't see anyone..."

"Eh? Really? She's right there, though." Nunnally shifted around in her wheelchair to point to a space just at her brother's left. Yes, the presence definitely felt female. Old. Scary. But... warm. Nice, like Brother.

Brother swallowed, clearly looking in that direction. "M... maybe it's a ghost? I can't see anything..."

Nunnally smiled, turning to face the presence and bowing her head. "Welcome to our home, Miss Ghost. Please, make yourself comfortable... oh, but I don't think we have any treats for ghosts..."

Brother chuckled. "I... I'm sure she appreciates the thought."

The surprise and rush of warmth rolling over her told Nunnally that her brother was right, as always.

~~~I========>

[Pale Wolf]

~~~I========>

Archer took small steps, staying just a little behind and to the side of his Master - she was far too small to not be outpaced within seconds by his full stride. This would've been easier if he'd been in spirit form, he could just float behind her, but she insisted he stay materialized, and overall he didn't much mind - it was nice to be semi-alive again, especially considering the afterlife he was dealing with.

Her pink hair bobbed in front of him, moving from side to side as they walked through Fuyuki. They'd already overviewed the ex-war-zone city from a VTOL and he'd learned the tactical outlay of the place as it stood now (of course, he already knew it but he certainly wasn't admitting that, and he was only familiar with it almost fifty years in the future and in another universe). This strolling was for her to get a sense of the place - she didn't have his eyesight, though she was getting there. And he was learning something himself - the air positively rippled with prana, all across the city as far as he could tell. It had a very sad scent to it. This was most definitely something new and outside his experience.

He'd sort of been hoping to get summoned into the Fifth Grail War rather than the Fourth in some strange alternate timeline, so he honestly wasn't really sure what he was supposed to do now. He knew what he'd wish for in a second, but unless the Grail War had diverged far enough, it wouldn't even be an option even if he won the Grail.

That and while he quite liked his current strange little Master, he did not much approve of the nation whose military she served in. If he were more nationalistic, he probably wouldn't even be able to fake tolerating it. He'd have to see if he couldn't help her strike out on her own. Maybe bail out on the Grail War, turn this into a second life of some sort, a nice long vacation from his hellhole of an afterlife.

His Master - a small, thin, fourteen-year-old girl with carmine-coloured eyes and pink hair tied up high and left to fall free from there - turned around as she walked. "Archer? You normally talk more." Her tone and face were, as always, flat and expressionless, almost bored. She held up a red, vaguely heart-shaped camera phone and snapped a picture of his pensive expression.

She knew his real name - there really hadn't been anything lost in telling it since going by the Grail's proffered timeline, he was right now probably sitting around the time when his father had been born. Nobody knew his legend, it probably wouldn't even exist here. Still, safest to use the class - no telling who might actually know the meaning of his name, and the only ones who'd recognize the class and know what it meant would probably be able to detect his aura as a Servant anyway.

He smirked, laying a hand on his hip. "And you normally talk less, Master."

"Yes. Stop making me." She turned around, hair bobbing as she continued forward through the city. "And I said call me by name."

Archer chuckled, shaking his head. He really wanted to reach out and ruffle her hair like some kind of twisted older brother, but she'd punched him in the gut the last time he'd done that. "Sorry, sorry, was just thinking."

"Home?" It was only the fact that he knew she was talking about his country and not his city that kept him from jumping halfway out of his skin in surprise, because he hadn't told her the weird parts.

"Partially. Various things. Don't worry, I'm not much on the pride of a nation. I'm still with you."

"Good."

They walked in a somewhat more comfortable silence for a little longer.

At least he'd managed to talk her out of wearing her uniform on this secret mission. Sometimes he wondered about her upbringing... she'd somehow missed out on a whole hell of a lot of the basic details of living.

Not that the candy-floss pink ruffled dress she wore at the moment - the first thing a demented sales cashier had pressed on her because 'It'd make you look so cute!' - was much better, it made her look all of eight years old. But it was a step in the right direction. One down, at least two hundred to go.

Her right arm wrapped around to her left, reaching up the sleeve - fingers brushing against the relatively fresh tattoo hidden underneath. A long, red sword, pointing downwards and stretching most of the way down her left arm. He knew because she'd had it tattooed over - and in the form of - the Command Seals. It was one way to hide them... probably the only one that'd work, given her general preference for short sleeves that would bare the whole thing to public inspection. Frighteningly enough, suddenly getting a tattoo was more in-character for her than changing her habitual manner of dress.

"Hey, Mast-"

"Name," she cut him off, sharply and without mercy.

He bowed low to her as she continued walking ahead, then caught up in two strides. "My deepest apologies, Anya. I was just wondering why the tattoo? Wouldn't it be simpler to pass the seals off as one?"

"Instructor said the seals don't last beyond the War."

"Mm? Yes, they fade after they're used or I'm gone. Still visible, but they look more like a bruise. Why do you want them to...?"

"Reminder."

Archer pursed his lips, not entirely sure what to say to that. Not entirely sure if there was anything to say. Hopefully he found a way to not die and stick around, but... well, unless something changed within three weeks or so he wasn't going to exist anymore. Even this fragment of 'him' would no longer be free. Though it was still a little unnerving that she'd gotten a tattoo in remembrance of him before he'd actually died...

So he turned his eyes out to the mostly abandoned city. Apparently most of the inhabitants had fled after some kind of incident the previous day... which was probably for the best, since now it left the Holy Grail War to proceed without anyone getting caught in the middle.

Given his extremely high sensitivity, he expected to be more or less aware of any attack on him or his Master long before it came within range of fruition.

Which was probably why he was so surprised when the young boy suddenly blinked into appearance in front of them that Caliburn flashed into his hands and he instantly leapt between the brown-haired boy and Anya - normally he had different weapon preferences, but Caliburn's knack for 'selecting the right one' would be important with someone this fast and in this close to his Master.

The boy raised his hands. "I'm an ally, Archer, Dame Alstreim."

Archer fractionally lowered the long, beautifully gleaming sword in his hands. "Go on."

The boy brought his right hand over his heart, bowing his head. "Rolo Haliburton, Britannia Special Intelligence Service, presently on assignment as mediator of the Fourth Grail War. You were informed of me in briefing?"

Anya gave a slight nod of her head. "Put it away, Archer." Before he did, she snapped a picture of him looking all gallant and Servantly.

Archer nodded, dropping the sword and letting it dissolve into motes of light as he stepped back to his Master's side. He remembered the mention, and the boy's pale brown hair, lavender eyes... and, frankly, the fact that he looked as close to the physical incarnation of 'weenie' as it came... matched the description. "So how'd the Mage's Association come to decide to appoint Britannia as the mediator?"

"As far as they know, they haven't - that role was offered to a cover organization under the SIS, called the Geass Directorate. You are to use that name at all times - the association between the groups is not to become public knowledge."

Anya nodded. Archer felt the need to fill the silence with an "Understood."

"Presently summoned Servants are Archer, Assassin, Berserker, and Lancer yesterday. I have no information regarding the individuals, only classes and summon times."

Archer looked around the city. "What the hell happened here? The news claimed poison gas, but from what we saw... the place is blasted to hell."

Rolo frowned. "... The actual details are classified beyond your clearance even as Knight of Six and Servant, however I have been ordered to provide broad strokes as they pertain to your competition in the Holy Grail War." He pointed northward. "At the Fuyuki University, a project overseen by Prince Clovis was under way. The project was highly responsive to the spiritual quality of the city - the same reason the War was situated here. Apparently local terrorists thought it was a chemical or biological weapon of some sort, and stole it."

"Was it?" Anya queried.

"That's beyond your clearance, Knight of Six."

She frowned slightly.

"Here the records break down. Clovis ordered a retrieval effort, and we're not entirely sure what he started doing. He told High Command he was rezoning the area for industry, but as you can see, he was engaging in some sort of military operation. And apparently the terrorists fought back very well, because we have found very few survivors of his troops in the city, and the ones we have just know they were told to destroy specified target zones and hunt down supposed terrorist sympathizers - Clovis was covering it up from them as well. His command staff would likely know, but they're all dead, apparently killed by a spear."

Archer hissed in a breath. "Lancer?" Servants going up against the normals already... the Grail War hadn't even fully started yet and it was already going to hell.

"Best guess and it looks likely, but there's not enough information to know." Rolo looked down. "Also, one more detail which is going to cause a great deal of change to the Grail War."

Anya cocked her head to the side.

"I've located the secret project in question. It appears to have bonded to or been absorbed into the Greater Grail - the main system that sustains the War as a whole, not the vessel that activates when the War is complete. Completely inextricable, at least not without doing so much damage that at least one of the two will be destroyed, and possibly both. High Command has determined that the risk is not acceptable or necessary at this time."

"Bonded to... it what?" Archer had to ask. He remembered that ritual site... how the hell had this project of theirs bonded to the Great Grail?

"Bonded. I'm not sure how, but it's most definitely in there. The project has a very large - functionally infinite, larger than the Grail - well of prana, and it's amplifying the Grail's own power to almost unimaginable heights. It might not actually be safe to stay in Fuyuki with this much prana flowing, and summons are rapidly growing easier. The Grail itself is powered up to a sufficient degree that Servants, and thus the War, aren't even slightly tied to location anymore. And the timeline... the Grail normally can only sustain the War for a few weeks, but at this point, given the amount of power in the system... it could stretch out for years, or indefinitely. And you might need the time to locate other Master-Servant teams if they're free to leave the city."

"It has more prana than the Grail?" Archer could only repeat the first thing that had caught his attention. "If you've already got a secret project that has that much power, why are you bothering with the Holy Grail War at all?"

Rolo shrugged. "We weren't. Dame Alstreim was selected by the Grail so High Command decided they may as well put some interest in, but this wasn't even a tertiary concern for us until Project CC fell in."

Archer shivered. Even without the timeline extension, this was going to be a long war. Britannia was starting to scare him already. Their High Command had such big objectives that the Holy Grail War and the power of an honest-to-god history-changing wish was beneath their notice?

On the other hand, long war - in the actual time sense, not the 'each second drags out' sense - meant now he had plenty of time to work on Anya, and on squeezing together a 'don't vanish when the War ends' solution. Not to mention a solution to the problem that, if the timeline was as he knew it, was still in the Grail. It'd been bad enough with the Grail's own prana supply, with 'functionally infinite' it might be world-ending. Or worlds.

Fucking Counter Force. No wonder he'd been summoned to this weird world.

~~~I========>

Berserker turned his gaze from the recently acquired 'television' - Takara had purchased it shortly after summoning him, citing a need to have alternate sources about events going on in the city during the War - and onto the bed, where his Master sat propped up against the pillows.

She looked much better than she had yesterday. Much less pale. ... After his enraged rampage had drained her dry to the point of collapsing. He did not regret what he had done to those murderers, but he still felt a stab of shame. His loss of control had harmed and endangered his Master - a young girl, at that. At least he'd finally mastered himself before anything worse happened...

She snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Oy, Berserker. Are you listening?"

He shook himself. "Ah. I apologize, Master. I was lost in thought."

She pouted slightly, leaning back with her arms folded. "Well, I was asking if you thought the Lancer you fought outside the Britannian HQ was a Britannian Servant, or affiliated with the one who killed them - that 'Zero' the news just broadcast." A Japanese station, of course - the Britannian news was still echoing the party line about terrorist attacks and poison gas, but apparently someone had been going around mysteriously dropping video disks in news station offices, releasing the full 'Zero speech', though only a few Japanese stations were releasing it. "You said it was pretty embattled even before you arrived, right?"

He nodded deeply. "Yes. I was not in a condition to take it into account, but on re-evaluation, it looks very much like the vehicle was already under attack. I may have been fighting an ally."

Takara held up a finger. "Don't get ahead of us, Berserker. If they're trying to free Japan and don't have any hidden objectives, I'd be glad to work with them and settle who gets the Grail fairly at the end. We probably agreed on the short term yesterday. But that's still two big ifs, and a third - whether or not they want to work with us. And even then, we need to actually establish communications and negotiate the alliance. For now, potential ally."

"As you say, Master."

"That said, it'd be nice. Zero was so cool."

Berserker gave a low chuckle. "He was certainly... extravagant. Are you certain he favours girls?"

Takara favoured him with a mock-glare. "I do not have a crush on him, I just think that was awesome."

"Of course you don't, but that reaction was still fun. I know where your maiden's heart lies." He mouthed the name, quickly rewarded with a flush.

Takara hung her head, long black hair falling forward to cover her cheeks. "I'm never going to get you to stop teasing me, am I?"

"Not even after I return to the Throne, Master." It had been far too long since he'd been able to tease his own daughter, and she'd never really reached this age of supreme teasability before they'd been... separated. Takara was nothing like her, of course, but the rewarding reactions were still there.

"Moving. On." Takara pushed back the covers, swinging her legs out of the bed and to the floor - standing carefully, and shakily at first but quickly steadying. "I've laid around long enough."

Berserker frowned. "Are you sure, Master? You were badly depleted yesterday."

Takara waved her left hand, the red circular Command Seals flashing at her wrist. "I don't know whether or not you can feel it, but the air's chock full of prana. I'm stuffed to the brim, every jewel in the house recharged overnight. My body'll catch up, and if I stay too long in bed I'm going to lose my fitness."

He wasn't really able to disagree. If her body atrophied, she'd be in a great deal of danger, especially given her desire to fight in the War herself. She did seem fit enough to at least be walking around, if not fighting yet. "Where to, then, Master?"

She reached out to the bedpost, grabbing her oversized red jacket and pulling it over her body. "Out of town. Tokyo, maybe? Our only Servant lead right now is Zero, and he's in with the resistance, so we need to make some contacts. Tokyo's a big city, the ghetto is probably our best bet for finding something."

And of course she likely wouldn't mind providing just a bit of help to the resistance itself... Berserker frowned. "Won't that risk taking us beyond the Grail's support range? As I understand it's possible to summon from a fair distance, but it's unsteady and I will not be able to operate well."

Takara held up a finger, swirling it through the air. "I don't know if you can feel the prana in the air?" she brought up once more.

Berserker blinked, shaking his head. He'd never been deeply familiar with spellcasting despite his wife's occupation (he could reinforce himself, but that had always been about as far as met his understanding and interest), and now he was, well, not exactly alive enough to draw sustenance from the outside anyway.

Takara nodded. "Well, it's charged. The Grail's running way heavier than normal, must've got some extra prana somewhere. At this level... yeah, it can at least handle anything in Japan. And it's probably safer outside the city anyway. The Britannians coming back aside, this much prana is unhealthy. Even nutrients are poisons if you get too much. And don't forget I'm living on the leyline here, this is probably the most dangerous place in town. Another day here and my circuits might start cooking. Two days and I'll be developing normal health problems. We'll come back when we need to recharge and check in, but this place is getting hazardous."

"Mmm... I understand, Master. Do you believe Assassin and his Master are leaving as well?"

"Probably. I'm midrange as a magus and I can tell it, a first-class would know instantly. In all probability they'll be coming for us soon anyway, so we'll rig up some presents and leave them to it." Finished dressing, she slipped out of the room.

Berserker nodded, following her. "Your name makes you a known target, and unless Assassin engaged Lancer, they won't actually know Zero is a possibility. Leaving you the only one they do know about - so far as we know."

"Yeah. I'd like to take 'em out when they come for me, but I'm not going to go looking for a fight when I'm not 100%. Don't worry, you'll get your rematch, but for now we'll leave them some humiliating presents and watch the show on Familiar O'Vision. See a few more of Goldie's tricks from somewhere nice and safe instead of getting hit with them."

Berserker's lips quirked into a grin. "I look forward to it already."

"The chance of the traps actually killing them isn't even worth discussing, but we can definitely humiliate, and push them far enough to see a few of their tricks. Some tar and feathers are traditional... Oh! On the way out, level a few buildings."

"... Master?"

"Empty ones. Make sure no one's in there. Just, scare people, make them think Fuyuki's getting way too dangerous to stay in. Because it is."

Berserker bowed his head. "By your command, Master."

~~~I========>

Lelouch stepped into his room, smiling slightly.

Kokoro looked up from the thick, old book she was reading at his desk. "... Good day?"

"Productive." Lelouch dropped his book bag and a second plastic bag on his bed, moving over to take a seat on it. "And my body seems to have cooled down overnight, by the way." Which was quite the improvement, he really didn't enjoy that feeling.

Kokoro's lips pursed together. "... Fast."

Lancer faded in, sitting on the edge of his dresser with her legs kicking gently. "We've got a possible lead on the resistance organizations, so someone to contact in the future."

"... Weren't you at school?" Kokoro pulled off her glasses, wide eyes blinking slowly.

Lelouch's smile quirked up a bit. "Yes, it surprised me too. She sounded like Q-1, at least."

"Especially when she thought she was in private," Lancer noted. "Also very fit for a girl supposedly so sick she can't attend classes."

"Which would provide a convenient excuse," Lelouch mused. "It doesn't all mesh up, of course, but then I suppose I'm hardly unique among Britannians in hating how Britannia does things."

"So... how will you confirm it? If you walk up to her, you'd expose yourself..." Kokoro pointed out.

Lelouch waved a hand. "Easy enough. Find out her phone number, say pretty much anything, as long as I address her as 'Q-1'. If it's her, she'll know and most likely be quite curious, if it's not she'll just be confused and I hang up."

"... Go for the cell. I can just imagine you having that conversation with a Britannian student's parents." Kokoro shook her head of the absurd image.

"Ah, and I also spoke with the school's chairman - I just told him you were a friend of mine whose home had recently been destroyed. You're registered in classes starting tomorrow." He grabbed the plastic bag and tossed it in her direction. "Your uniform."

She caught it instinctively, blinking at him. "I... what?"

Lelouch shrugged. "I just wanted to get you permission to be on the grounds so you could walk where you needed to without worrying about getting arrested or something similarly ludicrous. The chairman, and I quote, 'will not allow a young girl to go without her education' and registered you on his own initiative. Is it a problem for you?"

"Ah... no, but... isn't this a Britannian private school? I'm..." She looked down.

"Ashford is about as liberal as they come. By which I mean both the man and the academy. If it's a problem, you don't need to come, just consider it an option." It might be a problem, he didn't particularly like to think that his associates or circle of friends might take issue with her race, but the topic simply hadn't come up very often except for some kind of ugly incident in the ghetto with Nina, that she and Milly refused to talk about.

And speaking of those friends, he was going to have to keep an eye on Rivalz. It would probably be more efficient to have just killed him, but... well, killing a friend was not an easy or desireable thing.

Kokoro nodded. "I... guess I'll think about it... Are you ready for the, um, lesson?"

Lelouch leaned forward. "Of course. I'm going to need to perform a crash course here, after all. I don't have much time." However this whole 'Grail War' thing worked out, simply a handful of strange abilities like the Matous had demonstrated and he would have a damned useful weapon against Britannia. Not that he had any intention of losing, of course.

Kokoro nodded, turning the chair to face him. "All right... Lancer, I projected some test material and put it in his dresser, can you get it while I get him started?"

"Sure," the young-looking girl chirped, bouncing off the desk, heels clicking as she moved around and started rummaging in the dresser. She held up a plain block of wood with an upraised eyebrow, before pulling more out.

Kokoro exhaled. "All right... the basic tool for spellcraft is the magic circuits that lie within your body. And soul. It's a... sort of spiritual organ, which evolved for refilling and cycling the vital energies in your body, but which we magi have repurposed."

Lelouch simply let his eyebrow rise. If he had to say anything, he'd say that sounded ridiculous, but to be honest, he didn't care, certainly not enough to get into an argument with his teacher over it. The actual scientific, or pseudoscientific, principles really didn't matter to him, all he needed was the 'how to make it work', and that, she had, given the unimaginably powerful ghost currently rummaging through his dresser.

"The procedure we did yesterday..."

"You mean the pills?"

"Yes. That was meant to establish a switch, to allow you to easily activate your circuits. It can be quite problematic without it, but right now it should be a simple mental operation. Turn them on."

"... How?" Lelouch blinked, looking up as he felt something settling on the crown of his head. There was nothing there, which he confirmed with a hand. But he could still feel the weight.

"Like that."

"... I suppose you weren't kidding when you said simple." Ah, there was the heat. Much less, though, he was getting used to this. Should probably keep them on as long as he could, get them working smoothly.

"Catch," Lancer warned, tossing one of the wood blocks to him. "And yes, I can feel it. You've got the prana pipeline working wonderfully now. I'll save up to full before blowing any of it, though."

Fortunately, even he could catch something tossed from barely a meter away. Because that would have been quite embarrassing. He... thought he could feel it too. Like there was an invisible fluid line between him and Lancer.

"What we're going to start with is the simplest spell - reinforcement. This enhances the function of an object - the sharpness of a blade, brightness of a lamp, strength of a muscle, hardness of a block of wood... What you need to do is push the prana into the wood block, into the points where it is lacking in its structure - the prana will essentially fill that lack. Try not to put too much in, there's only so much room for improvement in any structure and if you exceed its limits, it will start damaging the block."

Lelouch held the block, flatly staring at Kokoro. "I don't know the structural details of a wood block, Kokoro."

"To be honest, you don't need to." She slipped her glasses back on, perhaps to give herself a more 'professorial' air. "Right now, I just want to get you used to manipulating prana in the first place. To successfully reinforce, I'll teach you structural analysis later, but that's a bit more complicated and I want you to work on something that offers tangible results first."

To keep his confidence up, he supposed. Though... "... Kokoro, I don't know how to 'manipulate prana'."

She flushed, looking down. "Ah... sorry. Just think it. Your circuits are basically another set of muscles, and they do what you tell them to. You'll need to get a feel for it, though, because you haven't really used them yet. There's really nothing for this but practice."

"Right..." He stared down at the wood block, trying to 'force his prana into it'.

And stared.

And stared.

He kept at it for twenty minutes before finally, he felt a small bit of heat leaving him, leaking out into the wood.

Another ten minutes, and Kokoro held up a hand. "Okay, that's enough." Even as she said it, the block crumbled to dust in his hands.

Lelouch blinked. "... I overcharged it?"

Kokoro nodded. "Try the next one now. Ah, and if you have any words you want to use. Incantations don't hold any actual power, but they're useful for the purpose of self-hypnotism - they can skip past a lot of these steps."

It flew at him, and he had to reach out a bit further to grab this one. With a short look at Lancer's so-innocent-it-had-to-be-false expression, he held up the block of wood and turned his attention to it. "Show me..." It was the first thing that came to mind.

Ten minutes of nothing, and then it suddenly exploded in his hand, sending small wood chips peppering into his face. And open mouth.

While he spat them out and wiped off his face, Lancer handed a third to him.

He held this one away from himself, repeated his made-up-on-the-spot mantra, and was rewarded in eight minutes with another explosion. Now, if he could apply this talent to things other than wood blocks, this alone could be pretty useful. Though it wasn't technically the purpose of the exercise. He looked up at Kokoro. "... How many of these do you have?"

"Today, twenty. I'll project more for tomorrow."

"Is that another spell?"

She nodded. "Yes, we'll move onto it once you have a grasp on reinforcement - this, if only to reinforce your legs and run, is most likely going to be your most useful spell in the War."

"A not inaccurate assessment of my combat skills."

Lancer laughed. "That's quite the line for the man who made ace twice in a day yesterday..."

Lelouch stared at her. "Me, an ace? You must be joking. I'm nothing like that."

Lancer blinked, cocking her head. "... Isn't an ace 'five kills'? You took down at least ten, and that just what I saw."

"Through stealth and tactical positioning, not skill." He shrugged. "I got them because they didn't have a chance to fight back."

Lancer blinked again. "... Didn't the last Knight of One fight exactly like that? Ambush and sneak attacks? If it's good enough for the Emperor..."

"Believe me, Lancer. I'm not an ace. I've seen a real ace, and it's completely different." He couldn't even touch the miracles his mother had pulled off, even with the same knightmare."... And wait a minute, the Grail provided you detailed information on the combat styles of historical figures?" Admittedly, the previous Knight of One - prior to the current, Waldstein - wasn't hard to find information on, but still...

"No, but your bookshelf did." She smirked. "I don't sleep. Grabbed some of your books to fill in the gaps on what the Grail handed me while you two wasted eight hours."

"... I'm getting somewhat jealous of your undead physique, Lancer."

"Awww, you're going to make me blush." Of course, there wasn't even a hint of red in her cheeks.

"I find that deeply unlikely."

Lancer chuckled. "As an aside, do you have any books on knightmares? I want to see if I can't improve Lancelot a bit, but unfortunately the Grail didn't tell me one thing about what all those wires do, so I'm going to need to learn before I try anything."

"Wait, what?" Lelouch stared at her for a moment. "You want to improve it, but you don't know it...?"

"I'm a craftsman-type. I made my own Noble Phantasm." She suddenly held out the trident, allowing Lelouch to examine it closer. He hadn't actually noticed it was made of some kind of black wood before, and he wasn't sure how it kept such a sharp edge, but he could see the grain. "I've worked with other materials, including nations. I doubt I can master the principles enough to outshine the designer on the conventional side, but I can introduce my own spellwork to the equation." The trident vanished into whatever space she kept it.

Lelouch shrugged. "... If you're going to tinker, start with the Sutherland or Portman. Lancelot's a one-of-a-kind trump card and I'd rather you wait until you've got your techniques perfected before playing. As far as books, I only have some basic references here. Nina or the Academy library should have much more detailed texts - my own understanding came from the library. I'll get them for you tomorrow." He sort of gave up. At least this way they'd deal with it later, and she'd get to 'improve' a much more expendable knightmare first. If it worked well enough, he'd be all for it. If not, at least something irreplaceable wouldn't get trashed.

"Much appreciated, Master."

Kokoro coughed delicately into a hand. "Start on the next one, and try to maintain your focus while I talk about the next topic. You're going to need to be doing most of this as multitasking, so we may as well get you used to it right away."

Lelouch took it from Lancer's outstretched hand, holding it out and simply framing the words of his mantra in his mind. "What's this topic?"

"Servant basics. You've already got the basic structure of the Grail War, right?"

"To an extent. The Grail summons Servants, assigned to Masters, destruction of the Servants disqualifies the Master."

Kokoro nodded. "It is also actually what powers the Grail. The Master isn't immediately disqualified, and can contract with any other Servant, but the Grail can only manifest when most of the Servants are fed into it. It's more that the Master of the last Servant standing wins the Grail."

"Fed into. I really would prefer some different wording there," Lancer commented.

"Ah... sorry."

"Nah, not a problem. Carry on."

Kokoro turned back to Lelouch. "All right... now, a Servant isn't actually the Heroic Spirit. It's more accurate to say that they're a photocopy of it, poured into a shell - the class. The original Heroic Spirit is completely unaffected by what happens to the Servant." She shook her head. "In the last war, the same Heroic Spirit was summoned twice, though in different aspects."

"Sounds like you're saying 'don't feel guilty over their fate'," Lelouch noted.

"Don't," Lancer stated. "Just like the Masters, every Servant chose to come here, and chose to compete in this. We cannot be summoned against our will. Everyone here chose to put their life on the line for their wish, and hesitating isn't going to do you any favours."

"Oh, I know. It's called a 'War', isn't it? You accomplish your objectives in a war, and while killing the enemy is not the objective, it's not something to shy from. As you say, they knew what they were getting into."

It hadn't been intended to accentuate his words, but the block of wood exploded in his hands again, Lancer replacing it within a moment. Show me. He turned his attention back to Kokoro as she resumed.

"As you've seen, a Servant is a spiritual entity with the power to manifest physically. They're dead, and they've passed out of the world's cycle of energy flow. Normally prana is restored simply by living, but they're... not. So they have a stock and no way to innately replenish it."

"As I understand, that's where I come in?"

Kokoro nodded. "Yes, the Master feeds the Servant prana to replace what they've expended - both in regular battle, and in staying in the world. The world rejects paradoxical presences, like those who are already dead, and some prana is required to prevent discorporation. This also applies to projected materials." She pointed at the wood block held in his hands and being fed prana. "The world knows it's not really there, and essentially attempts to correct the lie. The prana drain is light but constant."

As it exploded, Lelouch dryly commented "Well, it should be happier now." He accepted the replacement Lancer offered. "So what, the world is sapient?" He couldn't really just grin and ignore that one, though he wouldn't pursue it too far.

"That might be inaccurate. It wouldn't be right to anthropomorphize it, so it might be more accurate to say it's a well-built system that functions in a particular way. Though 'built' carries its own possibly-inaccurate connotations - while a creator deity may exist, magi can't see such a being any better than anyone else. There are some magi who theorize that the world has a will of its own, but even if that theory is right, it wouldn't be appropriate to say it's a 'will' anything like human." She adjusted her glasses, two fingers settling on the bridge for a moment and sliding them back up. "Guess you caught me on my simplifications. I'll refrain."

Lelouch was spared the need to respond when his latest block of wood exploded. Again. Lancer handed him the next. "So I'm essentially a battery? How much prana do Servants even use in battle? What I've seen thus far appears fairly physical in nature."

"A fair amount," Lancer noted. "That physical ability doesn't come free and needs to be paid for. Most Servants use reinforcement or prana bursts - or both - to manage their physical strength. Some get it partially free - ones with various inhuman bloodlines mostly, myself included." She tapped her pointed ears. "But even we can still benefit from reinforcing, and usually do it. Then there's repairing damage, which again sucks up prana. Some Servants can regenerate - again, myself included - but it still needs to be paid for in prana. Add in exotic skills - such as a Caster's magic. And of course, the Noble Phantasm."

"You've been applying that phrase quite frequently." Boom. Lancer tossed a replacement. "What does it actually mean?"

"It's essentially what the Servant was most famous for in life," Kokoro supplied. "Usually either a magical artifact, or a very abnormal innate ability. Unique to the Servant, except in those cases where it might be passed down to a future legend. It takes up a lot of prana, and generally instantly reveals who the Servant was, but these are generally very powerful abilities."

"I'd imagine, given Lancer described hers as 'anti-army'," Lelouch pointed out. "Can your trident really do that?"

"No." Lancer shook her head. "The trident's my secondary. I have two, my other one is innate." She smiled. "I'll show you someday." It probably went without saying that the smile was similar to his 'I have a plan and am about to hurt something' smile.

"I should hope we don't find a need for it." Lelouch knew he was just short of making the block explode, so he stopped. A little too late, since it disintegrated anyway, though. He tsked. "I think I'm just around the maximum capacity, here. Still going to need to learn how to stop, though."

Kokoro held up a finger. "Remember, you're just getting the flow right. Without the structural analysis, you're not going to be putting it into the right places, so your prana is still damaging rather than reinforcing the structure. We're close enough to work on structural tomorrow, though."

Lelouch accepted the next block from Lancer, tapping it idly against his cheek. "I'd like to get a feel for how this is actually supposed to work, though it's not as though making things disintegrate with a touch is a bad trick to have." He dropped the block and stood, taking a stride over to the games table in his room and moving the chess set off it.

Kokoro blinked. "... Lelouch?"

"Show me..." he whispered, starting a very light flow of prana. Couldn't afford to overdo this one, so the moment he felt the flow start into the nooks and crannies and places that could do just a little better, he stopped it. And then he ducked down, putting his right hand under the table, and stood, casually lifting it with the one hand. It was most definitely more strength than he'd ever had before, though it was still miles short of Kokoro's 'punch through brick' and Lancer's 'throw knightmares' levels of strength. But he was on the right way.

Kokoro stared at him wide-eyed. "... Ho... are you insane? Trying self-reinforcement without structural analysis, on the first day... your sense of touch and feeling for your body only goes so far, Lelouch!" She stood up, teeth gritted. "You have a real talent, but don't get cocky! Push it too far and you'll still break something that doesn't recover! You're gifted, not invulnerable! Don't waste it!"

Lelouch shook his head, lowering the table. "You've seen Nunnally," he stated, voice serious. "How many medical journals do you think I've read cover to cover?" He moved back to his bed, picking up the wood block again. "I didn't find what I sought, but I did, at least, end up with a very detailed understanding of much of the human body." Of course, he'd still need to get control over the flow before he could do anything really impressive, so back to the wood blocks...

Kokoro swallowed, and for a moment even more anger flashed through her lavender eyes, before she slumped back into the chair, head bowed and eyes hidden from view. "... She's lucky. She has a brother who'll move the world for her, after all."

Lelouch shook his head, leaning back and focusing on his practice. "The world didn't give her her due. I'm just trying to make up the difference."

"That's its own kind of luck." Kokoro turned away, burying herself in her book again. "Keep up the practice, and don't do that again until your control's better."

Lelouch simply nodded.

~~~I========>

Wise Up - Z-01 Lancelot

Ahh... this machine. What a way to provoke memories...

The Z-01 Lancelot is one of the world's first seventh-generation knightmare frames. At the time of its creation, the Camelot Design Bureau believed it to be the first, though as it turned out the Chawla design team in India had built two more within a similar timeframe. No more than weeks apart, whoever was first. The EU's Falx wasn't far behind, but never saw much action - the wars had ended by the time its development cycle did. They didn't cut the same corners Asplund and Chawla did, and unfortunately six months too late was still too late.

The core new design element is the use of superconducting sakuradite throughout the frame, leading to significantly higher responsiveness, operating efficiency, and power generation.

In mass production knightmares, this is powerful enough. The improved responsiveness enhances the already-formidable performance of a knightmare into something quite frightening. And the improved operating efficiency and power supply enhances the power life of a knightmare - normally they only have the legs to operate for an hour or two, the improved efficiency very much helps.

This is what distinguishes the seventh generation from the fifth. ... Though I will willingly acknowledge that this world has a much looser definition of 'generation' than yours. Yours actually have to be put into service, for one. By your definitions, Lancelot would be second-generation.

Now, for what distinguishes Lancelot... well. Camelot did two things with Lancelot. For the first, they manufactured it to Rounds-spec - that is, the standards that would be expected by one of Britannia's twelve Knights of the Round. Yes, I can imagine you, especially, know where the name comes from.

Rounds-spec doesn't sound very sexy when simply describing it, but it involves parts manufactured to much tighter tolerances, and very finicky machines that require much more frequent maintenance. It's really not cost-effective so you can't do it on many machines, but the end result is a higher-performance machine, that with a properly skilled pilot, can be parlayed into positively ridiculous feats of arms.

The second... well, Asplund decided to play with as many toys as he could squeeze into the frame. This is the second major reason Lancelot costs so incredibly much. Quite a few high-technology gadgets that simply wouldn't work without Lancelot's high power supply - which unfortunately reduces its fuel life back into the range of normal knightmares.

Gadget number one: Haken boosters. Simple enough, small rocket thrusters attached to the Lancelot's four slash hakens, allowing higher-speed intercepts, and for altering their path in midflight. To be honest, I'd almost forgotten about these, they loaded that thing up with so many toys...

Number two: dual factspheres. This isn't one of those major expensive tricks, but it's a design element first introduced on the EU's Panzer-Hummel, and it allows greater sensory acuity, which, further, allows for the Lancelot's trademark 'ridiculous acrobatic dodges'. The damned thing evading a building collapsing on it comes to mind, and I believe it bears noting that the largest proportion of that was the machine's own AI, not the pilot - the pilot had never ridden an actual knightmare before, after all, no matter how gifted he was.

The third is referred to as a 'maser vibration sword'. If you're familiar with the 'vibroblade' concept of a blade oscillating rapidly to provide its own sawing motion, you already have the basics, though the MVS adds the typically over-the-top touch of also being superheated, allowing them to cut through most armour like it isn't even there.

The fourth is where issues start getting somewhat insane. With the Camelot Bureau's typical flair for names, it's referred to as the Blaze Luminous. This is somewhat exotic electromagnetics technology even for our world, but it's broadly similar to the plasma window developed recently on your side at Brookhaven, though distinctly more developed. I believe you've fought people equipped with these and been lectured on the details already, but I'll summarize just the same, in the interests of completeness.

Put simply, the Blaze Luminous takes a fair-sized quantity of gas emitted from the Lancelot, heats it up to a ridiculous temperature to convert it into plasma, and uses magnetic fields to confine the plasma into a flat plane over the forearms. The Blaze Luminous approaches impenetrability for conventional weaponry. Not because of the actual force of the plasma - that can hold out around ten atmospheres of pressure, but nothing in terms of weaponry. However, the magnetic fields alone force away most ferromagnetic projectiles, and then any projectile that makes it by and enters the Blaze Luminous is more or less instantly vaporized.

You can stop grumbling about that damned cheater any time now, Archer. It's not like you don't cheat just as gloriously and just as frequently.

The fifth isn't as insane, but turned out to be more useful in this installment. 'Variable Ammunition Repulsion Impact Spitfire', aka VARIS and most likely named explicitly so they could give it that pretty acronym. Most knightmare rifles are coilguns, but the VARIS is the first Britannian-made railgun on that scale - the EU beat them to railguns, employing them liberally. The EU, as it happens, very much likes its guns. Coilguns are better for certain purposes, but railguns - assuming they can be made to work at the desired level - can accelerate projectiles to higher velocities, and achieve higher rates of fire due to the greatly simplified firing mechanism. That is, a railgun is simply a matter of 'drop in the slug and let the rails magnetically accelerate it' - much less complication equates to a faster process.

And, typically, because over the top is too low for Britannia, the actual ammunition fired is a small packet of... mm, I suppose the closest analogy in your world is thermite, though ours is copper-based and obviously ferromagnetic, and the particular brand used in the VARIS is set to only actually initiate its high-temperature reaction after it's left the barrel. The VARIS can fire its 'thermite' slugs in two modes - either a straight conventional mode, or a burst mode which takes a loss in velocity to pack the slug into a spherical bolt that is prone to, well, bursting. Comparable to a high-explosive shell, reduces the impact power, increases the area damaged.

Now, the VARIS is not in fact the longest-ranged knightmare weapon extant. It's a good one, and make no question about it, but conventional knightmare sniper weapons are in roughly that area of range. VARIS is more accurate and more powerful than average, and is the only one in that range of performance that doesn't require the entire knightmare be given over to it - and maintains the performance of an assault rifle while doing so, though that is not unique.

Frankly, Asplund wouldn't have gotten away with all this with any less permissive backer. He went three times over an already generous budget. He was quite lucky to find a man willing to let him play, because despite his genius, he's categorically unsuited to engineering - he's wonderful at pushing new realms, but he simply can't muster the interest to do it safely and affordably.

Even then, permissive backer and prodigious funding aside, to get it built so quickly, corners needed to be cut. Frankly speaking, if the Lancelot weren't directly in the hands of an elite technical team, it would be damned near unsafe to pilot. It requires very frequent maintenance, the AI is incredibly finicky... whoever ends up in that seat is just lucky it wasn't pushed onto the year-or-months development cycles that spring up in wartime.

To make matters worse, the cockpit block can't actually eject. The pilot must be either very cautious, or very willing to die.

Or both. Wouldn't that be the best pilot for the Lancelot?

~~~I========>

Author's Notes:
First thing's first - thanks go out to prereaders - the list being Sunshine Temple, DCG, Ellf, and Belgarion213.
I guess it's a marker of just how well Lelouch sheltered Nunnally that she thinks he's a sweet innocent... Of course, FSN readers can probably guess what our little living lie detector is smelling off Miss Matou, and why it creeps her out. She feels guilty as hell about it, but that don't make her any less creepified.
Some new familiar faces for both sides of the crossover today. Of course, those who've seen Code Geass can probably already tell that Rolo's outright lying about the actual nature of the Geass Directorate, but Anya's hardly high-level enough to be trusted with that, even given her position within the Rounds and her... position with the Emperor, left vague to avoid spoiling those who haven't seen the whole series yet. Even then, well, in a 'canon-compliant' timeline, she'll basically wake up one day with a tattoo on her arm and no idea where the last month of her life went.
Also, I felt bad about doing that to poor Orange. Though since there's no evidence pointing at a likely scapegoat and someone's already claimed responsibility, he will at least get to avoid the pain of That Incident, so he's already ahead, though I doubt he'd thank me.
As always, reviews, comments, corrections, and etcetera are appreciated whether for good or ill, and my email's always open (PaleWLF @ gmail com).

[Pale Wolf]

Disclaimer: No copyright is mine, thus no copyrighted character is. If you recognize them from something that's not written by 'Pale Wolf', I have no legal claim to them.

Code Geass: The War Of Kings

By Pale Wolf

Chapter Four

Pledge to the Founding Fathers

~~~I========>

Isabelle von Einzbern stood calmly, arms folded as she watched the old, somewhat run-down Tohsaka manor from her position next to the white car. A fair distance away, obviously - even if the Tohsaka hadn't actually lived here for seven years, elements of the defences remained active, as amply demonstrated in the lack of squatters.

And not neglecting the Servant battle that was about to ensue - close enough to influence, distant enough not to be caught up in. And close enough to keep witnesses away with a boundary field, lest they see magecraft at its finest. It was hopefully unnecessary, it was quite late at night and bystanders were unlikely, but it was best to be sure.

She didn't know exactly where Assassin was, of course - he was in spiritual form, and he was only coming out here of his own whim. Sorin had explicitly forbidden it, citing it as an obvious trap, but Assassin had come out anyway, letting Isabelle tag along - he apparently minded her less than his actual Master.

Another individual may have ascribed human traits, 'loneliness' or 'desolation', to the neglected house. Isabelle von Einzbern simply took in the flaking paint and wild and tangled overlong grass, without opinion. It wasn't relevant to her duties.

Another individual may have been bored waiting for Assassin to make his move. Isabelle von Einzbern simply waited calmly. Though perhaps 'calmly' was not the appropriate word. She waited without activity or interest. The result was inevitable, and she did not care when it occurred.

After a short time, there was a golden light atop a nearby house, prana gathering and solidifying into the form of a man - a man gleaming with such radiance that he outshone the moon.

Even Isabelle reacted to the sight of his radiant nobility. As an Einzbern, ever aware of her position above others, it was plain that this Servant - such an inappropriate word - was in an entirely different class even from her.

His crimson eyes raked across the darkened Tohsaka manor, taking it in and dismissing it within the space of a breath. Arms elegantly folded across his brilliant gold armour. "Come out and meet your fate, little dogs!" he commanded.

The only response was the whistling of wind.

... And the near-instant buildup of prana around him.

Isabelle's eyes widened, and she moved to warn the Servant - this was unbelievably fast, it couldn't possibly be a spell being cast. It had to be a spell being activated - Sorin had been right, it was a trap. "A-"

Before she even got out the first syllable - he'd already detected it at least slightly, given the look of surprise on his face - it activated. Isabelle was only barely able to track the action of the next three seconds.

A flurry of black prana bolts shot up from the entirety of the roof under his feet - gandr curses, and very good gandr at that. Of course, that was nothing to Assassin, and before one curse so much as licked his boot, he was already leaping up in the air and off the roof, towards the Tohsaka manor, with beautifully decorated, prana-rich swords, spears, halberds, and Isabelle honestly lost count rippling out of the air next to him, aimed at the manor.

Just in time for dozens of arrows - projected, they had to be - shot through one of the Tohsaka windows, shattering the glass and passing through easily, continuing on-course for the gold-armoured Servant as he hung, helplessly, in the air, with nothing to kick off and use to evade.

Not entirely helpless, at least, as he was still able to bring up his arms to defend his face. He didn't need to do any more, as the arrows - or at least, the ones that were on-target, it was a rather wide spread, obviously meant to catch him based more on guesses regarding his position than direct aiming - simply clattered against his golden armour.

At which point the third layer of the trap activated, as every single arrow around Assassin - both the arrows that had missed and were even now passing him, and the arrows that had deflected off his armour - glowed black, unleashing more gandr bolts towards him. Rather, only about a quarter of them actually shot at him - the others were directed at his Noble Phantasms, suggesting the gandr was simply targeting automatically, based on prana density.

Even a quarter was still an unpleasantly large number of dark, swirling curses darting towards him from a distance of under a meter, from all directions. It was a situation that would kill any man within the instant it took for the curses to reach.

But Assassin was hardly any man. The air rippled over his arm, allowing a mirror-gleaming shield into reality, and he twisted in midair. Even with nothing to push off of, he could still change his angle. And he did so, wrenching his limbs around to keep himself clear of the course of the prana bolts, bringing the shield in place to intercept...

Out of nineteen curses inbound towards him, his shield caught all nine in front, reflecting them away.

His body swirled in midair, curving around five.

Four more impacted his back and limbs, impacting to no effect against his golden armour.

The last one, almost a fluke, impacted the back of his head, yielding only a millimeter-wide rivulet of blood running down through his golden hair, and an expression of insane, seething rage turning his beautiful face into something repulsive.

"I am going to-!" His words were cut off by the fourth layer of the trap. Geysers erupted in the road beneath him, magic circles now glowing visible in the street as the spells unleashed their payload.

There were at least four separate bursts flowing towards him. One pale white and roiling, some kind of solid material. Another white, apparently gaseous, a high-pressure cloud directed straight at him. One black fluid, thick and viscous. One light yellow, a few mixed shades wildly flung at the golden Servant...

Assassin twisted around, interposing his shield in front of the white solids - which upon contact, fell apart, revealing themselves to be white feathers, perhaps from a chicken, floating down around him and haloing his radiance - and pulling a sword of ice from the Noble Phantasms around him, slashing down at the thick black fluid. As the blade touched the fluid, it froze, the chill spreading back through the liquid and solidifying the entire thing into a pillar of black ice stretching from the magical circle.

But he didn't have time to block the other two, and they impacted, mostly on his golden armour.

To little effect, of course - even if he were not armoured, a mass of fluid at a mere fire hose level of force would not even budge a mediocre Servant, let alone this one.

Unless, of course, the white gas was actually an incendiary agent, which upon contact with Assassin, burst into scorching flame, lighting up the night sky and vaporizing the feathers, leaving smouldering little balls of fire falling to the street with him. He didn't scream as his hair and flesh caught alight, melting under temperatures exceeding a thousand degrees...

At such heat even titanium plate would melt, but Assassin didn't scream or lose his wits, simply tapping the flat of the frosted blade in his hand against his forehead and solidifying the fluids coating his body into ice.

Deprived of oxygen, the incendiary ceased burning, and a stretch freed the golden Servant from his momentary prison, allowing him to delicately settle to the street as the magical circles faded and the dross from the attack - tiny burning feathers, bits of white material, shards of the black ice - fell around him.

His beautiful face was scorched and burned, though the damage rapidly erased itself as Isabelle channeled prana into a healing.

Assassin's gaze was hotter than the incendiary agent he had just been splashed with as he looked down at himself. His armour's golden shine was tarnished, dripping with some oddly-solidified yellow and white...

... Egg. Cooked egg, after the phosphorus had hit.

Assassin slowly took deep breaths as his molten gaze tracked around. "Those maggots..."

"Assassin..." Isabelle darted closer, turning her examination to the street around him. It was surrounded with separate traps that simply hadn't gone off. Assassin hadn't been predicted, the place had simply been layered with trap after trap. They were short-life things - easier and far less prana-intensive to make. She'd be surprised if they lasted the day. Just the same, she started working on suppressing them lest they inconvenience Assassin.

"... are going to DIE SCREAMING FOR MY MERCY!" Assassin shrieked, conjuring up a hail of swords and plunging them into the neglected Tohsaka manor.

The wooden structure shattered and collapsed under the assault - even the full protections without seven years neglect could not withstand a Servant's, let alone this Servant's, rage.

~~~I========>

"I think you angered him, Master," Berserker pointed out, probably unnecessarily. The Servant on the other end of Takara's familiar link was outright throwing a tantrum.

In the seat across the train's cabin from him, Takara nodded, scribbling in her notepad. "Tonight's been productive. It's a pity I'm a wreck, he wouldn't even notice if we jumped him now."

"It would be useful to get rid of him. But I suppose there will be other opportunities." It looked like Assassin was the hotheaded type. When he got angry, his brain fell apart. Berserker at least had his class as excuse. ... The fact that he'd had the temper to qualify for the class in the first place was a mere distraction.

Takara hummed, clucking her tongue. "Wait, no, bad idea this time. He has a sniper on his team. I don't know if it's the Master or friend of theirs, but if we walk in there, we'd be targeted. Not much point springing a trap if we walk into one of theirs." She continued scribbling - presumably a note to compensate for the sniper in future plans. Good thing she'd caught it.

Berserker leaned back, the seat creaking under his mass - other than that, it was comfortable, though. "What else did you get?"

She pointed the pencil at him. "You first, you're the expert."

Berserker smiled. "That's why you first. I want to see what you have without hearing my opinion."

Takara blinked. "Uh... okay." She shrugged, lowering the notepad. "In no par-" She jerked slightly, and went silent, holding a finger to her lips.

Berserker nodded, converting to spiritual form and drifting out of the train cabin to the hallway, allowing Takara to share his perception.

They watched with bated breath as an elderly stewardess, still-red hair tied up in a bun, made her way down the hall with a refreshment cart, peeking in on the various cabins and attending to their needs.

They weren't, strictly speaking, ripping off the train. Takara had counted out the money for their passage - her own, and she'd pointed out with a slight smirk that his size made him count as two people so they'd pay for that - and handed it to an attendant. But 'Elevens' were not permitted on the Britannian rail system without special dispensation, so they had basically snuck aboard and Takara was using her limited mind-clouding abilities, in addition to generally keeping her face from clear view, to make anyone who saw her focus on the Scandinavian aspect of her features, rather than the Japanese.

The older woman passed by Takara's cabin, eventually. They waited somewhat more as she proceeded through the next few cabins, getting some distance, before Berserker drifted back into the cabin and took his seat once more.

Takara resumed seamlessly - they'd already gotten used to these little interruptions. "In no particular order..." She began ticking off on her fingers. "No magic resistance. The gandr that got through his defences connected. Not noteworthy damage, but not negated either. Wide variety of items, at least Mystic Code, possibly Noble Phantasm. It'd be best to assume he has some kind of artifact to apply to any situation, because I don't see us as practically forcing him to show what all of those things do. That armour is tough, though we knew this beforehand. I probably won't crack it. You might need to have your phantasm really going before you can."

Berserker nodded. "It will not take a major activation to do. Even without, I can attempt to get his head. However, it does concern me that we have not seen everything from him. It is my hope that my Noble Phantasm proves the stronger - or rather, the more applicable to the situation at hand - but it is not my knowledge."

"Well, we didn't want to get into a head-to-head smackfest from the beginning," Takara noted.

Berserker folded his arms across his chest. "Just the same, I am concerned. By the standards of the Grail War, the Assassin class is poor in a direct fight. The Berserker class excels. The fact that a Berserker and an Assassin can even have the outcome of a straight battle vaguely unknown... concerns me." He sighed. "The truth is, I cannot be sure how founded my confidence in my strength is. I have seen the people of my time, and I performed well. I was not the best - the Aryan Knight Marshal absolutely humiliated the man who defeated me - but I was among them. And it is a simple fact that I cannot compare my abilities to the ideal selection from throughout time. Am I weak in comparison to the average Berserker? Or is it he who is strong in comparison to the average Assassin? What will other Servants be capable of?"

Takara held up her hands. "I honestly can't say. I haven't seen a lot of Servants to begin with, other than my parents' stories. Can't really get them over here to evaluate you and compare. But that Lancer you tangled with didn't overwhelm you, so I don't think you're any lower than you should be, Berserker."

"I suppose more than anything else, this tells us that we cannot rely on class to inform us of our foe's abilities."

"And that we can't just steamroll. We're going to have to think our way through this. That, at least, puts us a step ahead of Assassin." Takara sighed. "Wish I could've saved the house, though."

Berserker hummed. He supposed it wasn't much surprise that she wanted it to remain intact. It was the place she'd come from, and only just returned to now, after seven years. He knew well the desire to return to one's home. "I do not know if this is consolation, but I do not believe there was an action you could have taken to preserve it. Traps or no, it would have been destroyed. We would have had to fight, and you are not in a condition to do that. I do not believe your parents would have appreciated your death to protect a house."

Takara smiled faintly. "You're right, of course."

She didn't sound like she felt a great deal better about it, but that really was all there was for him to say. At the least, it was insured.

Berserker blinked, letting his eyes flutter shut to share perception in more depth. He had the impression there was a shift in the activity back at the Tohsaka manor.

There appeared to be. It was a ruin, and that was not unexpected. Not one timber stood upon another, and Assassin's golden figure simply glared at the wreckage, breathing shallowly. The white-haired woman stood a few paces behind, to his right. No further traps were going off. Assassin had taken the field, of course.

From out of the familiar's view, a male voice spoke. "I said it was a trap. Are you going to listen to me now, Assassin?" He strode past the mouse. A tall man, scruffy blond hair cut short, thin frame covered in a brown trenchcoat, with a long rifle braced in black-gloved hands.

Takara had received information on this one and passed it to him. Sorin Decebal, the Dacian mercenary hired by the Einzberns. It was a strange sight... the man was from the same stock as Berserker himself, and Berserker had worked as a mercenary before everything went bad. Really, for all he knew, this Sorin could be a descendant of his. A most strange feeling, looking across millenia and seeing parallels with oneself.

Assassin hissed, turning slowly to face him. "Be silent, 'Master'."

Sorin said nothing, and made no change of expression.

The white-haired woman looked at him. "I thought you were not coming?"

Sorin shook his head. "I'd rather not have. We just gave points to Tohsaka and didn't gain anything she wasn't willing to sacrifice. But I expected Assassin to come, so he'd need the cover. Didn't expect you to - are you all right, Isabelle?" He sounded almost concerned.

She blinked, cocking her head in surprise. "I have taken no serious injury."

"Good."

"Why does it matter? This vessel has a short time yet left to it."

Sorin's grey eyes closed. "I suppose it doesn't. Not really. Don't mind me."

Assassin tsked. "You should be enjoying the time left to you."

Isabelle blinked slowly in confusion.

Sorin's head jerked up, and he turned slightly, rifle barrel tracking upward. Pointing directly at them - or rather, directly at Takara's mouse familiar.

The sensory link cut, leaving a psychedelic moment of... hearing Takara's blue eyes, smelling her words... before his senses returned to normal.

He shook his head. "... Pardon?" He was not quite sure what it was she had just said.

She rubbed her eyes slightly, thumbs resting against her thin cheeks. "He saw my familiar. We can't know how much of that was... we might not be a step ahead of Assassin on thinking it through after all."

Berserker nodded. "He is... dangerous. He walks like a killer."

"Yeah... I want to find Zero and get that end wrapped up before we try confronting Assassin. I need to be at my best. If you and Assassin are that close, it might come down to a fight between Masters."

... Berserker would just have to stomp Assassin into the floor. Sorin was dangerous. He did not wish to see a fourteen-year-old girl fight him.

~~~I========>

Kallen wasn't really awake, but she was getting there, to the sound of the radio news she generally had set to wake her up.

It was talking about 'the terrorist incident in Fuyuki', and 'the murder of Prince Clovis at the hands of the abominable Zero'. Huh. The Britannian news had stopped covering it up. Though as usual, it was hilariously slanted to the point of being outright lies. Kallen had stopped thinking journalists stood for 'truth' by eighth grade.

"Good morning, Master," a girl's voice spoke. Unfamiliar. And... wait a second.

"WHAAAAAAT?!" Kallen shrieked, jerking up and snapping her eyes open.

The source of the voice was another girl. A bit younger than her, short, quite petite. Blond hair tied back in a short ponytail with the bangs left to frame her face, brilliant green eyes, and her slim form was covered in an odd white dress that left her shoulders bare. She simply sat calmly in the seat in front of Kallen's piano, expression serene. Her features were completely Britannian - definitely not a Number. By features and general build, Kallen would guess she was fifteen, but there was a calm grace in the way she sat, and in her eyes, that made Kallen... much less sure of that age. Delicate in build, but unwavering. Regal.

"Wh... what the hell did my father do?!" 'Master'?! It... could be a new maid, but then what was she doing in Kallen's room...?

The girl coughed slightly into her hand, a bit of a smile on her face. "Right. I should have explained. I am..."

"Kalle-! Young mistress?! Are you all right?!" there was a panicked knocking on the room's door. The maid. Or rather...

"Go away!" Kallen snapped, pulling a sheet around herself as she stood, eyeing the blonde girl.

The girl, for her part, did not move, beyond a finger upraised to her lips and a serious expression on her delicate features.

"I... yes, milady." The maid's tone didn't even waver, and Kallen could well envision her bowing her head, putting on that mindless smile, and backing away.

... The Kouzuki woman had no pride. No backbone. She'd just suck up whatever scraps people gave her and smile as if it were a priceless treasure. Dammit.

Kallen sighed, looking at the girl sitting across from her. "And you? What's with that 'be quiet' gesture? Did you break in?" She sat down on her bed. May as well hear what the kid had to say before... doing whatever. She didn't exactly have a plan just now, but she was pretty sure she could handle a tiny, fourty-kilogram girl if she tried anything.

The girl frowned slightly. "Not quite... it is complex. May I see your right hand?"

"What about my hand?" Kallen glanced at it - or rather, at the bandages wrapping it. She slowly pulled the bandages off - the pain had stopped, and it hadn't been bleeding that badly to begin with, so it was worth checking out anyway.

Kallen blinked. She... how exactly had she gotten a red tattoo in the shape of three flames? Overnight? Underneath the bandage? She brushed it with her left thumb, confirming that it was in fact recoloured flesh, and not an extraordinarily artistic trail of dried blood.

The girl bowed her head. "I thought so... I appear to have gotten you involved with this. I apologize, Master."

"Could you seriously stop calling me Master? It's creepy." Even if her Britannian half put her on top of the whole thing, she didn't really like being bowed and scraped to.

The girl smiled faintly. "I would be glad to, but I do not know your name."

"... You broke into my room and you don't know my name?" This had to be the strangest break-in of all time. "It's Kallen."

The girl bowed her head. "I am the Servant Saber. One of the two, apparently. I will go by the name Aon, and leave the class name to my rival." Old Britannian - the number 'one'.

"Not a single thing you said is a name," Kallen pointed out, crossing her legs.

The girl, Aon, smiled again. "I am a Servant. I was... summoned by another, I believe." She shook her head. "With great force. I had to come. I did not have a choice in that. But the one who called me..." A tiny frown crossed her brow. "He felt wrong. I did not wish to be bound into his service. But I had to come back to the world. The call was too strong." She nodded to Kallen. "There were other candidates - others selected by the Grail. You were the best among them. I feel, also, that another was summoned into the same class... a very great amount of power forced it in because of my refusal."

Kallen boggled. "That... made, if anything, less sense than everything before it did. What's with all the mystical babble?"

"Then you are not a magus... I apologize for your involvement. The Holy Grail War is an extremely dangerous magical ritual. Seven - or in this case, eight - Servants fight one another for a claim to the Holy Grail, which grants the wishes of those who hold it."

Kallen snorted. "You lost me at 'summoned'." She stood, shaking her head, and moving over towards her cellphone, resting on the bedside table. "I'll just call the looney-bin for you."

But then, she couldn't move another step. She was not frozen - it was as if immensely strong hands had gripped her shoulders and held her still.

Kallen's eyes widened, and she looked down, to see... nothing. No hands, no fingers... just the impression of them pressing into her flesh. She struggled to get her hands up and throw these... ghost hands... off, but she couldn't get any leverage against the titanic strength.

The hands lifted her off the floor, turning her to face Aon, who still sat calmly on the piano seat, hands folded in her lap.

"Strictly, I am supposed to prevent further people from getting involved. If you do not wish it, we can negate the contract, but I would like to have opportunity to explain the details, first."

Kallen frowned. "... Well. That mystical gibberish is starting to almost make sense. Either you're not crazy, or I'm going there. Can you at least put me down?"

Aon bowed her head. "Of course, Kallen."

The floor tilted strangely underneath her as Kallen was shifted, and gently lowered back to sit on her bed.

Kallen rubbed her shoulders, frowning. "... What are you?" They were a little sore.

"A Servant. The ghost of a figure of legend." The girl's eyes bored into Kallen's... Kallen couldn't look away, and the look in her eyes... she couldn't laugh it off either, no matter how ludicrous the concept sounded. "The contract of the Holy Grail War is that I shall serve as your blade, and you as my life. I am to guide you to the Holy Grail, so that our wishes may be granted."

Kallen swallowed. "I... don't have a wish. Or anything like that."

"I will not ask if you do not wish to say, but please do not lie to me," Aon chided, smiling. "I am skilled at seeing through such things, and it is somewhat embarrassing."

Kallen frowned, eyes narrowing. "... Right." This girl was dangerous. Kallen needed to get rid of her before she stumbled across any of her secrets.

Aon smiled, standing. "If you wish to be rid of me, we can do that. But I would not consider that the preferable option. I am open to discussion."

Kallen was about to speak, when her cellphone rang, drawing a surprised glance from both of them. "... Are you going to do that invisible hand crap again if I pick up?"

Aon shook her head. "No. I merely wished to indicate that I was not, in fact, a madwoman." She gestured to the phone, stepping back a pace. Huh. No shoes. Odd.

Kallen frowned, reaching for the phone. She really hoped it was a school friend and not Ohgi. This strange Britannian ghost girl was going to be... ugh. Kallen flipped the phone open, pressed it to her ear, and hit the button. "Yes?"

"Good morning, Q-1." The voice was deep, powerful, almost reverberating in her chest... and she knew that voice.

"Ze-!" Kallen cut herself off, glancing at Aon. "Zebediah... this is really a bad time." Zebediah? Had that really been the best she could come up with?

"Mm. Very well, then. Do you require assistance? I can have forces relieving you within minutes."

Kallen pursed her lips. "... I don't know." She glanced at Aon. "It's going... well, it's going."

"... Understood. I will keep this brief, then. Tomorrow, 1600. Come to the viewing platform of the former Tokyo Tower, by yourself."

"Wait! Who are you?!" Shit. She shouldn't have said that in front of Aon.

"Who are you?" He asked. "Kallen Stadtfelt? Q-1? A Britannian noble? A Japanese rebel? I am curious myself. But I will not ask. You did say this is not the time. And my secrets are my own - as are yours." Click.

Kallen frowned, lowering the phone and looking at Aon. He was right, whether she liked it or not she did have to admit that not speaking her secrets made it pretty unfair to ask for his. Didn't mean she didn't want to know, but...

The blonde girl smiled, stepping closer once more. "I will say this. What you tell me in confidence, I will not spread." She hummed. "It is considered a rule of the Holy Grail War that the Servants keep their identities secret, but mine is difficult to hide to begin with, and you are my Master for the moment. And if trust is to be established, someone will have to take the first step." She reached out, grasping the sides of her white dress, and descended into a curtsey. "In general, I request that you call me Aon. But my true name is Arturia Pendragon, King of Kings of Britannia."

It took a moment before Kallen cranked through 'Arturia' to parse out exactly what figure of legend Artu... Aon... was claiming to be. She'd probably have freaked at that point, but honestly, she didn't really believe it. She folded her arms across her chest. "Isn't a King supposed to be male?"

"Only in the modern form of the language. In my time, it was a genderless term."

Kallen shook her head. "If you say so... but you know, I'm really not a fan of Britannia's history. Claiming to be an actually-female King Arthur... not really the best way to get me on your side."

Aon quirked a slight smile. "Do not mistake me, Kallen. I have been informed of Britannia's recent history. I am not... a 'fan'... myself. No Britannian who remembers her heritage should be. Britannia is and must remain the liberator, not the oppressor. To oppose the Britannia of today is the finest homage that can be paid to my Britannia."

Kallen tsked. "I'm Japanese, not Britannian." Gah. She'd answered on instinct. She needed to get herself under tighter control.

"As you wish." Aon's smile didn't waver a jot.

Kallen glanced at the clock, and shook her head. "Look, we can discuss this crap later. I need to get to school. Can you... I don't know, make yourself scarce or something?"

In what Kallen presumed was an answer, Aon dissolved into fluid white light and smoke, vanishing from sight.

... So. Now, not only was she a resistance fighter against one of the world superpowers, but she had a ghost girl thing tagging along after her and claiming to be a legendary Britannian King. And she had a date... meeting... with a mysterious military mastermind arranged for tomorrow.

... She was never going on break from the resistance again. Things got weird.

~~~I========>

Lancer chuckled to herself, drifting into the underground garage where Lelouch was storing his new toys. "How's structural analysis going?"

Lelouch looked up (or rather, down, he was on the transport's scaffold at the moment) from the book he was reading - the Lancelot's operating manual. "Well, I would not say I've mastered it, but it's... going." He shook his head, turning back to the knightmare. "This thing is going to be trouble. It's high-spec, but I'm not up to maintaining high-spec. Sooner or later it's going to rot under me."

Kokoro held up her hands. "... Sorry. I can't do much more than teach you analysis and lend you hands... I'm not really familiar with, well..."

Lelouch nodded, putting down the manual. "Well, it is to be expected. We're only seventeen. I'll teach you what I can, but I'm no expert myself. We will need to link up with a resistance group if we want this thing maintained. On which topic." He glanced back to Lancer. "How's Stadtfelt? Was her 'bad time' harmless?"

Lancer snickered, hopping up to take a seat on the Lancelot's arm. No real idea why, but she liked sitting up in high places, letting her legs dangle and swirl freely. "Sort of yes, sort of no. She's a Master." They'd both noted the bandaged right hand yesterday, of course, but given the girl's temperament, and the fact that she'd been punching a tree when she thought she was in private, that alone was hardly proof of Command Seals forming.

Kokoro's glasses slipped off her nose - she must have forgotten to adjust them to stop from slipping as she stared.

Lelouch... blinked. "Pardon?"

Lancer waved a hand. "Servants can detect each other's presence, and I felt one in Stadtfelt's room. I didn't go into extremely close range, so I didn't get details - I appear to have had a detection radius advantage, but I didn't want to push it." She shrugged. "I'm guessing she just summoned this morning or late last night, because I didn't feel hide nor hair of that Servant yesterday or in Fuyuki."

Lelouch frowned, putting down his tools. "... This complicates things. Your detection range advantage is one thing, but I still don't like the idea of my strongest asset having the area right next to me denied to her."

Kokoro slipped her glasses back on. "... It's worse than you think."

"Oh, it always is. Do go on."

Kokoro shook her head, tapping her right hand. "Servants can detect Servants, and Masters can detect Masters. The Command Seals resonate. You can call Lancer to your side instantly with a Command Seal, but..."

Lelouch shook his head, leaning back against the transport's maintenance scaffold and letting his head 'thunk' against the Lancelot. "You weren't kidding about 'worse'. That tanks everything. I can't maintain a secret identity if she can detect me both as Lelouch and as Zero." He turned to Kokoro. "Is there any way I can prevent that resonance?"

Kokoro pursed her lips. "The Command Seal only activates as long as prana is passing through your circuits. If your switch is off, you won't really be detectable."

Lelouch hummed, bringing his right hand up to gently cup his chin. "So it's possible."

"Far from desirable," Lancer noted, crossing her legs and lacing her fingers together around her knee. "It's a dangerous position, circuits shut down and Servant a ways off. And your school time is roughly two thirds of the magical training time you have. You're starting off a decade behind every other magus in the war, you can't afford to scrimp on training too."

Lelouch sighed. "Regrettably, I cannot find an error in your logic. It's a bushel of bad options."

"Hm... couldn't you just skip school?" Kokoro queried. "That would avoid detection. And you would have more time for... well, all this."

Lelouch shook his head. "Not even one of the bad options. I live at the school, under the wing of its headmaster. If I skip much more than I already do, I would be dragged to class. And a great deal of suspicion would be aroused."

"How important is the secret identity?" Lancer brought up. "You're both the same age, and both Britannian, so you don't lose out on credibility either way. And I don't see a whole lot of risk of her outing you to the Britannians, you basically have blackmail on each other at this point." She could see it now. 'I know he is the rebel, Zero! Because I am a rebel who works with him! ... Er, ignore that part.'

"... I still don't like it. My actual identity makes that too much of a risk. If one word about my continued survival makes it back to Britannia... and me being known exposes Nunnally. Whether or not my true identity is known, being the sister of Zero makes her leverage."

"Looks like a choice between risk, and absolute failure," Lancer pointed out. "Not saying it's not a risk, because it completely is, but your other options basically amount to calling the whole 'rebellion and Holy Grail War' thing off entirely, or absolutely assuring your loss."

Lelouch pursed his lips. "... We could engage her in the Grail War. I don't like it, but it might be our best option. It might be our only option. To a great extent, this comes down to her."

Lancer nodded. "We could. But assuming I win - and while I give us good odds in this situation, I'm not going to say it's a given - we knock out a Servant that could've been on our side. Ignoring the moral dimension for now, it's also not the ideal in a practical sense."

Kokoro blinked. "... An alliance in the Grail War?" She shook her head. "I was about to say that's very rare and rarely works out, but that's summed up more or less every hour of these past two days."

Lelouch hummed. "... We'll leave it for now. Spend today and tomorrow with my circuits quiet, evaluating her. She's bad at keeping secrets, so that's a blessing at least. We'll have her draw out the rest of the resistance for us, establish contact, and then reveal ourselves as Master and Servant." He shrugged. "From there, we will see if we need to kill them or if we can work alongside."

Kokoro paused, holding up a finger. "Wait... draw out the rest of the resistance? But... didn't you say 'come alone'?"

Lelouch smirked. "She may, if it were up to her. But her comrades will not allow her to go unaccompanied. I'm counting on it - and it will give me a chance to evaluate how subtle this group can be." He shrugged. "I would rather not attach myself to these groups, but the unfortunate fact is my second-greatest weapon will cease to function without the maintenance. At the least, I can evaluate them."

Kokoro cocked her head in confusion. "Why don't you want to work with them? I thought you wanted the same thing."

Lancer sighed, hopping down to the gantry the two living humans stood on. "They suck. There's limited discipline, minimal training, and no professionalism. Man for man, one Britannian knight has solid odds against any four of them, and I'm probably being conservative." She was caught on the side that had no idea what it was doing again... then again, when you were fighting one of the greatest empires in the world, they'd usually become that by doing something right in the first place.

Lelouch nodded. "Bluntly, they are terrorists. They are children throwing a tantrum to get attention from their parents. I don't need or want children - I need adults who fight. Britannia will not be destroyed by 'statements', and neither will Japan be liberated. You recall the incident in Osaka a few days ago?"

Her request to the Grail informed her on the details of that incident... Great. Worse than she'd thought. Of course, she was among the last who could rightly complain about the methods people used, but 'ends justify the means' broke down entirely when the route to that end became muddled and unclear. A compromise on ethics had to have a clear option between that or something more important. Anything else wasn't a compromise, just a lack of ethics.

"... Yes, I heard of it," Kokoro responded.

"That is what the rebels do. Mindless destruction of what their enemy owns - even if it is their own people. I only call them a resistance to be polite. The truth was, they got the entire city of Fuyuki involved, without even the beginnings of a plan. My brother's evil pulled the trigger, but the terrorists drew his aim there. And what is worse, Q-1's group was the most competent of the lot." He bowed his head. "Of course, perhaps I should not act too arrogant. Neither of us has achieved much of anything until yesterday."

Lancer hummed. "Got a plan to turn them into real soldiers?" She'd done it before, of course, but it was always fun to see what the new kids came up with. And honestly she couldn't blame him on his lack of progress. She'd been sixty before she really started getting anywhere. She knew very well the importance of groundwork.

"The beginnings of one, but first I need control of the group I work with. That will be difficult to begin with - mystery and absolute credibility are the only tools I have. One reason I do not wish my identity exposed." He frowned. "Speaking of which. Kokoro, back in Fuyuki. We were in your neighbourhood when we began - are you concerned about your own identity?"

The lavender-haired girl shook her head. "Ah, no. After we split up, I scrambled their memories a bit. I, um, would have offered to do that with your friend, but his mind was already delicate. I might have broken something for good if I tried."

"Mm. Well, we can't have that. That said, do you think you could work with Stadtfelt? In the event we have to destroy her Servant, I would much rather if we could simply remove her memories of my identity, rather than having to kill her."

Kokoro held up her hands. "I don't know. It depends on a lot of other factors. If she's any good as a magus, I won't be able to punch it through."

Lelouch sighed. "Most unfortunate. Then it is time to hope that Stadtfelt is trustworthy. I do not wish to kill her."

Lancer raised an eyebrow. "That's it, Lelouch? Hope?"

"Well, no, I was also going to investigate her records and collate blackmail material. See what angles I can establish on her, to match the knowledge she will hold on me. Shouldn't need to be so crude as to highlight it, but I want some extra ammunition just the same."

Kokoro gazed at him, slightly nonplussed.

Lancer, for her part, grinned. This War was going quite well already. At this rate, they'd have the contract finalized by tomorrow. Then things could really get interesting on this island.

~~~I========>

Jeremiah Gottwald had always aimed to personally administrate an Area. But only as a side perk of becoming Knight of One. Doing it as a mere unnumbered knight simply because everyone above him in the Area's chain of command was dead... well, it rather sucked the luster out. And he would much rather have administered any Area but Eleven.

Of course, the fact that it was turning back into terrorist central didn't much help. The damn Elevens were sharks, and Zero had just poured Clovis's blood in the water. Jeremiah had only just gotten back from stamping out an incident in Hiroshima.

He sighed, handing the PDA back to Viletta. "Remind me to pass a commendation for that Diethard man up the chain of command. His information control is probably the only thing keeping this snakepit manageable." For a given, and rather loose, definition of 'manageable'.

The dark-skinned woman nodded, taking the pad and slipping it away as the pair of them strode down the halls. "It could have been better."

"Perhaps, but I honestly don't know how. The fact is, with what we had yesterday - or even what we have right now - there was no shutting down the Eleven pirate broadcasts. Zero spread those recordings too widely to cut off. All we could do was counter with an official broadcast to keep citizen morale up. At the least, they are getting their facts from us rather than the underground." The Clovis memorial program had been a bit too weepy for his own tastes, but eh. Jeremiah didn't have a doctorate in media studies or whatever exactly one studied to get there. He'd studied the interesting topics in his time at the Imperial Colchester Institute.

... Though Jeremiah had watched Zero's version. It had been fairly amateurish, but all the more chilling because of that lack of polish. Zero's speech to Jeremiah, spliced with visual of the orders and movements of Prince Clovis's forces in Fuyuki... simple, but it... very much made it look like the Prince had been issuing orders to massacre the Elevens. And Jeremiah could attest - though he would not say it out loud - that not a jot of the footage had been doctored. Whether or not he liked or wanted to believe the conclusion it came to, the evidence used had been accurate, in and of itself.

They'd probably just been terrorist supporters. Perhaps the Prince had simply not updated the logs - or perhaps Zero, with free access to the files, had deleted them. But Jeremiah would not believe that a Prince of Britannia had ordered the murder of innocents. That was an Eleven trick.

Jeremiah swallowed, shaking his head and trying to clear the image of those violet eyes from his memory. That Prince and Princess were long dead and far beyond his helping. Kururugi had been a special kind of monster, and the fact that the Elevens had actually chosen that to lead them... said a great deal about their values.

"Lord Jeremiah?" Viletta sounded a bit concerned.

He shook his head again. "... Don't mind it. Not really a related thought." He could not wait until someone came in from the mainland to take over as Governor-General. At least with his failure to protect Prince Clovis, he would not be receiving a title of that rank for some time yet. ... Which made his newest failing the only thing he was presently thankful for. He wasn't really that pathetic, was he?

"Evenin'!" a white-haired dandy chirped, practically pouncing out of a side door.

Apparently he was. Jeremiah rubbed his temples. "Right. I needed to deal with you too, Earl Asplund."

The man blinked owlishly behind his spectacles. "... Something wrong, Lord Gottwald?" At least he had enough of a read of Jeremiah's mood not to call him something silly.

Jeremiah sighed heavily, shaking his head. "I should be asking that on your end. You work under Prince Schneizel, eh?"

"Yeeeeep. Hey, I was wonderi-"

He was cut off as a tall, curvaceous blue-haired woman in a technician's uniform stepped out of the same side door Asplund had come to plague him from, wrapping her slim hand over the white-haired Earl's mouth and smiling brightly. "I'm terribly sorry, Lord Gottwald. He hasn't quite been house-trained yet."

Thank whatever gods one cared to name, someone actually kept that man under control. There probably weren't any medals applicable, but that woman deserved one.

Jeremiah leaned back against the wall next to the door, folding his arms across his chest. "So. You're the creators of Lancelot, eh?" Fuyuki was rapidly approaching the worst debacle in recent Britannian history. It was easily the worst thing to happen in Area Eleven since Britannia took over. "... I have to say, my report on your work in creating it will be glowing. My report on your work in securing it will not be."

The blue-haired woman pursed her lips, looking slightly displeased. "With due respect, Lord Gottwald, Lancelot was more heavily-secured than the Third Prince." At his twitch, she continued. "Lancelot was at the center of that security cordon, just as the Prince's mobile base was. In a non-active state, it would be significantly harder to make off with Lancelot than to break into the G-1. Even in active state, the security on Lancelot was equal." She bowed her head. "I don't mean to cast blame, but we took every measure possible in the situation. Even in that situation, if Lancelot had not been active, it would not have begun moving. Ever. We overestimated the amount of encryption the code key really needed to have... it would take a supercomputer to crack it."

Jeremiah nodded. "Very well. I accept that. Why, then, was it active?"

Asplund pouted, pulling the woman's hand down to free his mouth. "We were warming it up for the pilot." He offered Jeremiah a pointed look. "Everything was going smoothly until the last three seconds, and then Cecile dragged me out. Didn't have a chance to shut it down..."

The woman sighed, releasing Asplund and bowing her head. "I apologize. I didn't believe we had time to close Lancelot down and get away as well."

Jeremiah tsked, grinding his heel into the floor. She was right, too. Going by the G-1's video recordings, the pair of them really had gotten out at the last minute. If the researchers had jumped out even five seconds later - at a conservative estimate - Zero would have torn the transport apart. Zero's piloting was unpolished, but there was a gem under the roughness - his Portman and the red Glasgow he'd seen on some of the Fuyuki battle cameras were, simply put, the best pilots Jeremiah had seen on the Eleven side, in his entire tenure here.

Viletta frowned. "... If you were a soldier, you would be put under court martial for cowardice in the face of the enemy."

Jeremiah nodded. "However, they are neither knights nor soldiers. I am not pleased, but you have different expectations to meet. Beyond that, you are under Prince Schneizel, so you are subject to his evaluation and your own conscience." Good people had died to Lancelot in Zero's hands, and it was almost directly responsible for Zero killing a second Prince in this damned Area 11 and getting away with it.

The woman - Cecile, he supposed, closed her eyes. "I understand, Lord Gottwald." Looked like she actually did, too. Her stance was generally subdued. Not the sort of 'stop tongue-lashing me, okay?' stance.

Earl Asplund frowned, eyes narrowing fractionally behind his glasses. "Lord Gottwald, Cecile is in my division. I had an offer for you, but it will be withdrawn if you continue to press my people."

Oho... he actually did have a lick of steel behind his goofy facade. Then again, Jeremiah only really had himself to blame for getting caught by the act.

Jeremiah chuckled, stepping off the wall. "Oh? Was this what you wanted to see me about?"

For just a moment, Earl Asplund looked like the incarnation of all that was evil. "Did you want a counter to Lancelot? You did say we, as scientists, have different expectations to meet."

Jeremiah's eyebrow rose. "I'd much prefer if the Elevens didn't have it in the first place. But since they do have it, a counter sounds like the best second choice available." He was still less than pleased, to be sure - but right now, the Camelot team's technical skills were the best solution to that, at least, out of the many problems he had to deal with here in Area Eleven until a new Governor-General came.

Viletta frowned. "Are you thinking something that shuts Lancelot down?"

"Mmmmno." Asplund held up a hand. "Don't mistake me, we developed a theory on those lines back in Colchester, but I don't know where the person behind it ended up. It'll take more research to see if it even works, let alone put it into action. No, I was thinking Mark II."

Viletta blinked. "Wha... Lancelot is beyond the cutting edge to begin with. You can make a better one?"

"Easily!" Asplund grinned. "We still have most of our research data and blueprints. We haven't picked up a lot of combat data, so we can't make major generational improvements, but we can correct errors we locked ourselves into in development, and try further ideas we got too late to fit in." He glared shortly at Cecile.

Jeremiah traded looks with Viletta. "Then... why do you need to see us? Er, me. You're independent of Area Eleven's military administration. You don't need my permission to work on another development project."

Earl Asplund held up his right hand, rubbing his fingers together. "Money."

Cecile nodded. "I apologize, but... Lloyd spoke with Prince Schneizel. Apparently the Prince's private development budget can't cover a second Lancelot project right now..."

"So you want to get the funds out of the Area Eleven administrative budget," Viletta concluded.

"It's not all that much!" Asplund declared.

Cecile coughed into a hand. "By Area administrative standards, at least." Asplund gave her a short, betrayed look.

Jeremiah paused, running it through his head, but then sighed. "I can't, Earl Asplund." Like any knight, he wanted that knightmare - he was almost giggling imagining getting to lay his hands on the controls. But...

The white-haired man blinked, cocking his head. "Why not?"

Jeremiah unfolded his arms, holding up his hands helplessly. "I don't have the authority. I am only here in an acting role. The only thing I am permitted to do is keep the Area from disintegrating before someone else is assigned here. A military development project isn't under my discretionary authority. You can ask the new Governor-General when they arrive. It shouldn't be longer than a week or two at the worst." He shrugged.

Earl Asplund clucked his tongue. "I don't like it. Two weeks might turn out to be a lot. And that's assuming the next Governor-General is willing to take it."

"If they aren't willing to do it on their own, then wouldn't it be even worse for Lord Jeremiah to take it into his own hands?" Viletta queried.

"Ch."

Jeremiah tapped his fingers against his cheek. "... I might have something for you. Only on a personal level, not my administrative authority. But I do know someone at AVR." One of the two big knightmare development companies in Britannia. By 'know someone', he really meant his little sister, Lilycia, was engaged to the owner, but that was a bit private to mention. "I know they were working on their own seventh-generation knightmare projects. You were faster to develop, but they definitely have the funds and the interest. You'll almost certainly need permission from the Second Prince to share any information and work with them, but if he grants it, I can put you in contact."

"Bah," Asplund grumbled. "The corporations are too focused on the money. I'm a pure researcher."

Jeremiah shrugged. "The corporations have the money. If I had it, I would gladly fund the development. I don't. If you want that project, AVR is your only immediate option. The Second Prince lacks the funds, I lack the authority to release the funds."

Plus, this would get Asplund back to the mainland, out of his hair, and in Blair's. He was liking the idea already.

Asplund still looked displeased, but Cecile nodded, curtsying. "We will take that under consideration, Lord Gottwald." She grabbed Asplund by the ear and dragged him back into the room they'd jumped out of.

Jeremiah glanced at Viletta, and the both of them sighed simultaneously before continuing down the hallway. Yet more work to do...

~~~I========>

[Pale Wolf]

~~~I========>

Shirley Fenette dangled her legs in the warm water, glancing around the bathhouse. This was apparently an Eleven tradition, certainly not something she'd grown up with, but Milly had loved the idea (most likely because it gave her opportunity to ogle), and Shirley was more or less used to it by now.

Though she didn't know if she'd ever be used to the opulence of this student council building. The bathing room was huge, lined with columns (she was sitting next to one, out of the water, to give her body some time to cool down), a warm glow of light, there was a fountain at one end... Shirley never really felt like anything other than 'normal', but she knew, intellectually at least, that she was pretty rich. Upper middle class at least, Ashford was a high-end school. But this bathing room looked like something out of a palace.

"Um... why are we in the bath...?" New Student Council Member Number One, Kallen, asked.

New Stu... NSCM Number Two, Kokoro Matou, blinked slowly at the redhead. "Er... you waited until you were inside to ask?"

"I think she was too caught up in events to get the chance," Shirley commented. Milly had that effect on people.

The queen of Ashford herself chuckled throatily, reclining in the nude without the slightest of shame. "Just another bit of getting to know each other. I think they call it 'skinship'."

A generalized shiver went around the girls of the student council.

The first 'bit of getting to know each other' had been, of course, the welcoming party for the new girls (including the one newly arrived to the academy itself). Bit odd, really, that the headmaster had had them both brought into the student council at the same time for the same reason - general physical frailty precluding any of the more physically active clubs.

Shirley was sort of thinking 'Kallen Mark Two' as she looked at the lavender-haired Eleven girl - both were frail, weak in body, a bit on the gentle side, highly intelligent (Kallen maintained high grades despite only attending a quarter of the classes, and Kokoro had casually settled into Ashford's rather advanced curriculum as if she knew it already), and with distressingly curvy bodies, glistening in the water. A 'Mark Eleven' joke crossed her mind, but she shot it down before it left her lips - nobody liked being called a number, and it wasn't all that funny to begin with.

... Was that Lulu's type? He'd spent most of the day eyeing Kallen, and while she wasn't really sure on the specifics, Kokoro apparently knew him beforehand... Might have been either how or why she'd come to Ashford in the first place...

Shirley shook herself, frowning and turning to another thought. "Hey... does anyone know if Rivalz is okay? He was... I dunno, really 'off' at the party. Normally he's goofing off more than everyone else combined." Other than Milly. She was peerless in the art of goofing off. "But today, he was all quiet..."

Kallen held up her hands helplessly. No surprise, she didn't know him that well to begin with.

Kokoro quietly shook her head, looking down into the water.

From a corner sort of half-behind Milly, Nina poked her head up. "Um... maybe it's..." She shook her head, falling silent and just looking at Milly.

Shirley hummed, resting her elbows on her knees, cupping her chin in her hands, and eyeing the smaller girl. She'd been looking a little uncomfortable all day herself, though Shirley didn't really know why.

Milly cocked her head in confusion. "... Maybe it's...?" she trailed off, but no one finished her sentence for her.

Nina sighed. "I suppose Rivalz has it tough..."

Shirley snickered. Milly really was better with other peoples' secrets than her own.

Kallen was pointing at Nina, brow scrunched together. "You're... Nina, right? You really look different."

The small girl squeaked, ducking behind Milly.

An unwise move, as the taller girl caught her, holding her face forward for inspection. "Isn't she? I've been telling her to change to contacts for ages! She really is..."

Yeah, Nina was very attractive. Not the same type as most of the girls here, but the cute, delicate type was one just as many people went for. Was a bit of a pity that she dressed to hide it. Though Shirley thought it was more the hair than the glasses. The way she wore those braids was much less than flattering, but the glasses could be a charm point.

"L-let me go, Milly..." Nina squeaked, struggling to pull out of the older girl's grip.

Milly did so, though she timed it so her friend pulled back and landed back in the water with a splash.

"Um... for ages?" Kokoro queried.

Nina spluttered a bit of water, coming up and pulling her wet hair out of her eyes. "We, um..." She trailed off, nervously looking away from Kokoro.

Milly looked between the two girls for a moment, before wrapping an arm around Nina's shoulders. "Basically grew up together. Her grandfather worked for mine. So did Lelouch's mother. Part of why my grandfather is taking special care of her, Lelouch, and Nunnally."

Nina glanced up at Milly with a slightly pensive expression. "... yes... part..."

Milly gave Nina a squeeze, continuing. "It's why the three of them live in this building - for various reasons, the dorms aren't really good for them. Different sections, of course."

"... Nunnally can sometimes hear me typing, though..." Nina whispered.

"Hey, don't worry!" Shirley chirped. "Nunna can hear a fly sneeze at a kilometer. You're not all that loud." Of course, she wasn't entirely happy with Lulu living in this building surrounded by women, but he hadn't shown an interest in any of them, so Nina was nowhere near as much to worry about as Kallen. And Kokoro was threat central. Especially given she was living in this place right now... "Hey, Kokoro, do you know when you'll be able to move out into the dorms?"

Kokoro blinked, and shook her head. "Um... no, I... right now I'm staying with Nunnally-san..." That 'san' was an Eleven thing, right? Shirley hadn't been paying quite as much attention as she perhaps should have in language classes.

Kallen frowned. "So, hey, what happened, anyway? Why are you living here now? Following that... Lelouch?" Her tone softened towards the end, back to its usual level.

Kokoro shook her head. "No... he offered a home. I... live out in Fuyuki, so after the... terrorist attack..."

Kallen's eyes narrowed, lips twisting into a momentary frown. Whatever had irritated her, though, she didn't speak on the topic.

Shirley winced. God, that was right... that actually made sense for Lulu. He was all detached, but he'd always extended a hand to help out. "Ah... okay, I got it... Is, um...?" How was she even supposed to bring up the concept of 'is your family still alive?'

Kokoro nodded, apparently getting the idea. "I... my mother died a long time ago... my father disappeared before I was born... I just live with my grandfather, and he's... still alive. We just... couldn't both live here." She looked down into the water, idly swirling a finger through it.

Geeze... she really had had a rough time of it. And here Shirley was getting catty. She was disappointing herself. "Ah, well, no rush. Enjoy your time here, I'll help you get settled in to the dorms whenever you end up moving in, eh?"

Kokoro looked up, seeming a little sad. "... Thank you."

Milly clapped her hands together. "Okay! New topic! Kallen, Kokoro, you two free after school tomorrow?"

The redhead blinked. "I think I... ah! No! Definitely can't! I have something to do..."

Milly cocked her head. "Going out?"

"Yeah, uh, si... sixteen hundred, need to go to..." she broke out in a short set of coughs.

Shirley moved up, patting the ill girl on the back. She seemed to remember this sort of thing helped?

Milly gave a slightly disappointed moan. "Kokoro?"

The Eleven shook her head, long hair swirling in the water. "I was... going to get in contact with my grandfather around then..."

"Bah. Well, now works too." Milly leaned forward, water splashing as she moved. "I need to know your three sizes."

"Wha-?!" the two girls chorused, staring at the blonde in shock.

Milly held out her hands, looking so innocent butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. "Costumes, for parties, events, all the fun stuff. I need them for that."

Yes... that... and only that... Shirley was sure...

Kokoro stared. "You... cosplay?"

"Pretty much!"

"No thanks," Kallen muttered.

"Awww. No need to be shy. Only women here," Milly reassured, with a grin that belied every word she'd just said. "So - Shirley!"

Shirley sighed. "Forgive me, Kallen, for what I am about to do." At least she would no longer be alone in the sexual harassment. "Gotcha!" She grabbed the redhead by the arms, holding her steady for Milly.

"Ooooooh, very nice..." Milly stood to observe, nodding.

"Gah?! Let me-! ... go, please..." Kallen's voice softened again. It seemed to sharpen up every so often, Shirley didn't really know why.

Shirley was also a bit more focused on holding the thrashing girl steady. "Wow... you are... way stronger than I thought, Kallen..."

"Hm. Not going to make your getaway, Kokoro?" Milly glanced over her shoulder at where the purple-haired girl calmly sat in the water.

The Eleven girl cocked her head. "... I already know the measurements. I'll just tell you when you have something to write them on."

"Tch. So much less fun... Nina!" Milly held up a hand, catching the measuring tape as the green-haired girl tossed it into her grasp.

"Wait! I know them too! I can...!" Kallen had clearly sensed an escape route.

"Too late!" Milly moved in, giggling.

Shirley did notice Kokoro making her escape while Milly was occupied, though. Probably very wise.

~~~I========>

Kokoro slowly caught her breath, brushing out her hair as she moved into the 'Lamperouge' suite. Those girls were definitely... energetic. Hard to keep up with, to be honest. And she had to lie about almost everything.

She didn't really like telling the truth about her parents, but it had been... maybe she was just trying to even out all the lies. Even then, it felt like she was trawling for sympathy. The truth was, it didn't really bother her a whole lot - why would it? She had no basis of comparison. She knew intellectually that her life sucked in comparison to others, but she was used to it, she'd never had any personal experience to compare it to, so she didn't spend time moaning over it.

... Coming out to class had probably been a mistake. She'd just have to leave in a few weeks anyway. She shouldn't be nosing into the lives everyone else had.

Kokoro sighed, shaking her head and moving up the stairs. They'd have to skip personal lessons for Lelouch tonight. The student council stuff had run late, and, well, Kokoro really should get into bed before it was the night wore on too far. She was sharing with Lelouch's sister, and it would be pretty shitty of her to disrupt the girl's sleep after she'd offered to share her room.

It wasn't really a long process through the rooms dedicated to the siblings - the only real reason it might have taken any length of time was Kokoro eyeing the furnishings. It really was a well-appointed place. The entire building was. And outright huge. The section Lelouch and Nunnally shared was almost as large as the Matou manor, and possibly richer and classier than it had been at the family's height. She didn't really know a lot of Britannians, so she wasn't really sure whether they all lived like this, or if it was unique to this place - or rather, to Lelouch and Nunnally's... status. Was this Ashford headmaster trying to court their favour?

Well... she supposed it didn't matter a whole lot. Now that Matou Zouken's eye had been drawn here... Kokoro just hoped Lelouch and Nunnally were discarded mostly intact, instead of used until they broke like her mother had been. She didn't even know if her father had abandoned them, or just been used up by Zouken.

She really wouldn't blame her father for running. Lelouch should have, and now it was too late to do anything but hope her 'grandfather' was feeling charitable. She... should have told him to run. Should have... should have done anything. Zouken had punished her for disobedience before. She could take it.

And now... now the most likely route to a good outcome for these two was that the three of them die in the Holy Grail War. Because casting themselves on Zouken's mercy...

Kokoro swallowed, shaking her head and stepping up to the wooden door, bringing her hand up to knock. She didn't actually have the chance - it slid open at her approach. She really wasn't used to this Britannian technology.

"Come in, Kokoro-san," the younger girl's soft voice came, in Japanese.

Kokoro nodded, stepping into the darkened room. There wasn't much point in switching on the lights and disrupting Nunnally, she was used to operating in the dark. "Um... good evening, Nunnally-sama." She moved towards the spare bed set next to the massive windows, letting the door close behind her.

The girl, sitting up in her own bed, smiled slightly. "I suppose it is."

Kokoro paused, glancing at Nunnally. "Um... Lelouch already passed through and said good night to you, right?" She didn't really want to undress in front of him... which, she supposed, among many other factors, made her a really bad wife.

"He did," the girl noted, tone neutral.

"Ah... okay, good." Kokoro set to changing into her nightclothes. She knew intellectually that Nunnally couldn't see, or judge, but it still... well, she hurried, and slid under the covers once she was done, face heated.

"So... did you enjoy the party, Kokoro-san?" Nunnally asked, once she was settled in.

"I... don't really know what to do with a party... I'm sorry, I was a pretty bad guest of honour."

To be honest, she'd spent most of it watching Lelouch dote over Nunnally, with a tightness in her chest. It was... Nunnally's life had been horrible, just like hers had, to the point where it was useless to compare. But all through that, she'd had one incredible young man at her side... so she could smile. And Lelouch had had her.

"Well, Kallen-san seemed more confused than anything else," Nunnally noted. "There is usually a period of adjustment involved."

Kokoro swallowed. She didn't like thinking this way. Especially not about someone who was so genuinely nice to someone like her. She didn't like the way she felt, and she didn't like herself for feeling it. She shook her head.

There was a long, somewhat awkward silence before Nunnally spoke again. "I was... meaning to ask this, Kokoro-san. A few things, actually."

Kokoro blinked. "Um... go ahead?"

Nunnally's head cocked slightly. "... Could I have your hand while I ask, please?"

"Huh? Um... all right." Kokoro slid out of her bed and padded over to kneel in front of Nunnally's, taking the small girl's slim hand.

Nunnally nodded slightly. "These are all... somewhat intrusive, so there really is none I can open up with to ease in... so I will start with the most important. Matou Kokoro, what are your intentions towards my brother?"

Kokoro flushed, her entire body heating as the Matou legacy ignited within her. She took a slow, unsteady breath, trying to force the images from her mind before she spoke. "I... don't know. He is... incredibly beautiful. Unbelievably intelligent, compassionate, strong-willed, and that voi-" She slammed her jaw shut, collecting her thoughts before opening it again. "... He is all that. But I..." She was not suitable for someone like that. "... The marriage was a thing of convenience," she eventually concluded.

"... I... I see," Nunnally responded, voice slightly shaky. The girl's neck shook slightly as she swallowed thickly. "... Next question. Did he tell you about...?" She trailed off.

The Britannian royalty. That had to be it. What should she...? Shit... What would Lelouch want her to say? 'I'm not going to lie to my sister,' echoed in her head from two days ago. She hoped he really meant that... "Your... real name?"

The girl didn't seem very surprised to hear this. "And will you tell Brother that you told me?"

"I... should." If he was going to lie, it'd be even worse to be caught in it. He really should know.

"You needn't. I already asked him. He said yes. This was a... calibration question."

Kokoro blinked. "Calibration?"

"Never mind." Nunnally shook her head. "But he said he thought you should know what you were getting into."

Kokoro nodded. "I... yes, it was a bit of a rush and he only got the chance once we were all heading back..."

Nunnally's tongue darted out, flicking across her lips. "... But we should know what we are getting into."

... Shit.

"What was this 'untenable situation' you were in, before? Why was it marriage, of all things, that made your grandfather willing to let you go?"

Kokoro frowned, running it through her head. She really wasn't comfortable talking about it, but... on the other hand, Nunnally was right, she was now close to something very dangerous, and... But whether Lelouch wanted her to know this much...? And telling her put her in more danger from the Mage's Association, if there was even a slight risk of the secret of magecraft getting out, Enforcers would be all over them... How could she put it without exposing any dangerous secrets...?

Nunnally slipped her hand out of Kokoro's. "Never mind." The girl lay on her side, facing away from Kokoro, and pulled the covers back up over herself. "You were going to lie anyway."

Kokoro swallowed. "... I'm sorry."

"... I can't really do anything to stop you. But... please don't hurt my brother." The girl sounded... very, very scared.

"I..." It was too late for that. The phantom of the Matou family now knew he existed. Because of her weakness. "I won't." But however poor of one, she was a magus. Lying was second-nature. At the least, this small girl shouldn't need to know and fear the sword that was descending upon them.

~~~I========>

Lelouch sat at his computer, left hand on the keyboard, right hand twirling one of the wood blocks Kokoro had 'projected' for him for tonight. Kokoro was not present, so he shouldn't be trying anything too fancy, but he could at least do self-study. He'd have to thank her for having the materials ready.

His structural analysis wasn't quite there yet, so this wasn't really 'reinforcement', but his speed was getting much nicer. Superstrength was not a spectacular skill if it took two hours to actually turn it on. He would probably want to work on flow control and the actual structural analysis from here, so he actually had 'superstrength' rather than 'blow up my own limb'. Of course, the disintegration/destruction that was wrought when he overcharged the reinforcement was going to be a handy little trick on its own...

Today had been reasonably productive, all told. Most of what he'd found out had been bad, but it was better to know, so he could work around it. Progress had been made in his magical instruction, increasing his chances of victory in the Holy Grail War, and giving him more tools to deal with both Matou Zouken and Britannia afterward.

And some cross-referencing, sneaking, and mild hacking had unveiled all of Kallen Stadtfelt's secrets for him. Or at the very least, enough of them to be working with. Hopefully tomorrow went better than that and he never needed to pull any of this out, but it was better to have a plan, however cruel, than to have nothing but hope.

He'd really rather do all this alone, and not need to hope on the reactions of others in the first place, but unless Britannia were so kind as to send Cornelia, Schneizel, and the Emperor here to Japan for him to capture, he would need to do it the old-fashioned way. And that required a military strength somewhat greater than one person, even if that one person was truly undefeatable. And Fuyuki had taught him both the sheer power of a Servant, and the limitations of one - Lancer was not undefeatable, on the national, army scale he intended to work on. She could well be the swing factor, but he needed an army to take advantage of that swing.

It would have been useful to be older, and Japanese. His heritage put him at a severe disadvantage in winning the trust of these terrorists. He'd be perfectly happy to be a juniour member of an effective resistance movement, but the fact was these terrorists were doing it wrong. To get any effects at all, he'd need control. Thus, he needed trust - somewhat counterintuitively, lying and hiding his identity were more likely to produce trust, by letting him take the focus off his age and ethnicity, and place it squarely on the results he fully intended to produce.

He needed a reputation, and he needed that reputation to start from zero, rather than the negative that being a teenaged Britannian dropped him in. The fact that it protected Nunnally was not to be ignored, either.

Still, what he had right now was a bit tangential. It might be enough to work with, but 'might' wasn't satisfactory when as much rode on it as this. Perhaps he should take over as supplier. The psychological association of provider and leader was something he could play on. And magecraft and Servants had to be at least somewhat useful in robbery, extortion, blackmail, and other means of acquiring supplies and funds for a growing resistance. While gambling on games of chess was moderately entertaining and low-risk, it was also low-pay, and he needed a rapid influx to get anything going on an acceptable timetable.

Would need to make sure he went after valid targets, of course - everything went so much nicer when he didn't push his morality. And there were plenty of scum to target, there wasn't even a need to be a predator on anyone but other predators, and conveniently enough, the predators usually had more worth taking anyway. It was a world where the bad guys won - that was why he was doing all this to begin with.

Lelouch shook his head, flooding prana into the wooden block, and flicking the sawdust off his fingers a moment later. He should get to sleep soon. He had to get out in the morning to pick up his nearly-completed costume, and then reengineer the thing to the 'Zero' appearance Kokoro had given him (or more realistically given his current magecraft skills, have Kokoro and Lancer do that). And from there, he'd be straight through school (only part of which he could sleep through), and immediately on to the most pivotal moment of his plan - he would much rather be well-rested and at his best, because he could not afford to foul up a minute of the Tokyo Tower meeting.

It wasn't actually much of a problem that Kokoro had come up with the reengineering of his 'Zero' appearance. In honesty, it smoothed out a weak point in the plan - he'd had that suit on order from the old craftsman for some time, of course, but he could hardly have immediately gone out in public as a rebel leader in a suit he'd had specially commissioned. It would have taken three minutes for the old craftsman to recognize his work and contact the authorities. He'd been planning on sewing some alterations on afterward to obscure the link, but Kokoro could do it much more cleanly and quickly.

Speaking of whom... Lelouch shifted slightly in his chair to look at the door, where the door had opened. Kokoro, of course, stood there, hair falling behind her in a purple wave, resting gently on her shoulders and caressing her back.

Lelouch's breath caught. "... Kokoro?" He didn't exactly know what it was - the tilt of her head, the fall of her hair, the light in her eyes, the way her nightgown wrapped around her ample curves? - but this was the first moment that he had truly realized exactly how attractive Matou Kokoro was.

She glanced down at the floor, hands clutching a bundle of her nightgown and pulling it just slightly tighter. "I... wanted to talk about something." She stepped in, the door sliding shut behind her.

Lelouch blinked, standing up and leaning back against his desk. "Is Nunnally all right? I thought you were going directly to bed?"

Kokoro looked surprised for a moment, and nodded. "Ah... yes. No, she fell asleep... I didn't want to disturb her, but I... really needed to bring this up."

Lelouch nodded, gesturing to his bed. "Well... have a seat and go ahead."

Kokoro smoothly moved across the wood floor, settling down in a sitting position and lacing her arms together across her knees. Her legs crossed, and his eyes instinctively tracked the motion as the hem of her long gown rose up to reveal the smooth, well-formed curve of her leg. "I... wanted to clarify... my purpose here."

Lelouch cocked his head in curiosity. "I... am afraid I do not quite understand the question." He mentally 'pulled off the crown'. His body was getting hot from having the magical circuits open so long.

Yes. From that.

"I..." she ducked her head, hair falling in front of her, and whispered the next part.

Lelouch frowned, taking a step forward and bending down towards her. "I'm sorry, I couldn't quite hear-"

Kokoro looked up, squeezed her eyes shut, and tilted her body upward, arms wrapping up around his neck as her lips pressed against his.

... Whoa. Lelouch actually couldn't think at this point. The first one, to seal their 'marriage', had been uninvolved and embarrassed on both their parts. This kiss... well, there was definitely embarrassment, her cheeks were just as red as his, but it was... not uninvolved. Seemed almost... desperate, on her part. There was no tongue, no parting of the lips, none of the various things he'd heard of, but... it was... whoa.

Also, neither of them had put enough thought into balance, so it only lasted a few seconds before he toppled over her, and she fell under his weight, falling sprawled on the bed, with Lelouch only just catching himself on his outstretched hands, their noses millimeters apart and eyes locked together.

Lelouch slowly blinked, swallowing. "... pardon?" Roughly the most intelligent remark he could come up with at the moment.

Kokoro's lavender eyes averted from his own. "... can't even do that right..." Her breath hitched in roughly.

The heat in Lelouch's body and the flush in his cheeks faded, instantly. "... What are you saying, Kokoro?"

She shook her head, underneath him. "I... I'm useless. I know that. I'm frail... I'm not all that strong. I get tired easily. I'm not as graceful as you. I don't understand technology, I'm not a genius like you are... I can't fight like Lancer. I know magecraft, but I can only do the dregs of it, and that only barely." She swallowed. "The only thing I have to offer to anyone is this body..." She writhed slightly, and the nightgown slipped down, revealing pale, slim shoulders, and just a hint of her... rather impressive...

Lelouch jumped back off the bed, staggering and stumbling over his chess table before falling into a heap on his couch. "I-" That... might not have been the best reaction for her mental state, but he had to get away before he took her up on her offer.

Kokoro slumped back, head pressing back into his blue sheets. "... I don't mind, Lelouch. We are..."

Lelouch swallowed. "K... kokoro... 'don't mind' should not be what you say at this sort of time."

Kokoro came up to a sitting position. Somehow, her demeanour had completely shifted. The sexuality was gone - still attractive, but he could focus, and the air somehow became lighter, easier to breathe. She had a slight, impish smile on her face as she spoke. "The last condition has been cleared."

Lelouch's eyes narrowed.

'Kokoro' held up a hand. "You're thinking of applying a Command Seal, and I wouldn't blame you if you did. But let me explain. This wasn't a prank, and Command Seal or no, it will not be repeated."

Lelouch sat up in the couch, bringing up his right hand in front of his face. "Then explain." He'd seen too many movies, so 'you have this long to explain' popped into his head, but really, it would take as long as it took, and he knew that. "This had best be good."

'Kokoro' nodded, reaching out and laying a hand on her face. Her clothing and flesh turned black, and she began to shrink, the shadow rapidly being sucked into her face - or rather, the thin painted wooden mask underneath her fingers.

Lancer casually pulled the mask off, and it dissolved into motes of blackness, leaving just the small girl in the black dress and stockings. "You've probably been wondering why I haven't told you my true identity and abilities yet."

Lelouch nodded slowly. For one thing, it was just now that he knew shapeshifting was among those abilities. "I have, though it seemed less than conducive to our future cooperation to press the matter." He left unstated exactly what this little incident might do to their future cooperation.

"The Grail creates the basic Master and Servant contract. But the more important contract is between two comrades in arms. The specifics that we choose ourselves. You want to fight, not just stand at the back giving orders, correct?"

Lelouch folded his arms. "Yes. If I don't take the risk myself, there's no meaning in any victory I win. It would be my puppets that won it for me - not my own strength."

"And I respect that. I also agree with it. But the victory in the first place is more important than how we feel about it - you agree there?"

Lelouch held up a finger. "Within the important caveat that the victory itself is worthy. I'm not just fighting for personal gain here."

Lancer nodded, lacing her fingers together over her knees again. "Which is where our problem comes in. Tactically and strategically, you're up there. Personalitywise, as well, I approve of you as Master. But you're... well, you're squishy. Forgetting about Servants, and forgetting even other Masters right now, you could have a problem with a single soldier on the ground. In a combat sense, you're an extremely weak link, and if you go, everything goes."

Lelouch winced. "An accurate assessment."

"Now, I can work with this. But you will be subject to mental assault, if you're on the front. If your mind falls under someone else's control, it's over - that's even worse than the case of you dying."

Lelouch cocked his head. "So what was this? A test of my mental resistance?"

"Exactly." Lancer sighed. "It was pretty tasteless, and I'll admit it, but the fact is that my glamour is one of the strongest mental effects I am aware of, and the only one I personally can do. I can turn it towards other emotional impressions, but lust is one of the strongest - your brain is already equipped to resist fear, for instance, but it subverts itself in resisting lust because you want it. I left a few holes for you to grab onto to resist the effect - the moral impetus to have a desire to - and you did so. Only one who ever shook me off that fast was Yesh."

Lelouch frowned. "Yes. It was tasteless. And those holes... is that how you think of Kokoro?"

Lancer pursed her lips, and shook her head. "No. But I think it is how Kokoro thinks of herself." She held up a finger. "From what I've seen, her life has been... let's go with 'less than full of positive emotional influences'. If that Zouken's the one who raised her, that means she'll have been criticized her entire life. The one who raises you molds you - and if she's been criticized her entire life, she's most likely going to turn out highly critical of herself. Her physical condition is obviously one part. To make things worse, she's the child of a great magical legacy. She's studied it intensively, far more so than most - she wants to be worthy of that legacy, to continue it... but she can't do it. Her circuits simply can't produce the power. It might be the only thing she's ever wanted, and she can never have it."

Lelouch nodded slowly. "... That... would fit with last night..." He ran a hand through his hair. "I might be making it worse. If I'm as gifted as she and Zouken say, then some boy off the street has a gift she's wanted for, at the very least, a long, long time." He sighed. "... I don't necessarily agree with your theory, Lancer. But it is logical, and it fits the data points I have." Great, so now he had a possibly-delicate psyche who would be well-justified in intense jealousy of him on his plate.

Lancer nodded. "We can work from that. As long as we're aware of the potential problem, we can keep an eye on it. I'll be starting on training you tomorrow or so... trade off lessons with Kokoro or something."

Lelouch blinked. "... Training?"

"Regarding the aforementioned squishiness." Lancer moved up to sit on his bedpost. It should have been an uncomfortable, unstable perch, but she didn't seem to have a single problem with it, legs folding together. "You're the core of everything we've got here. And moreover, you are a Prince of Britannia. I will not tolerate you going down to half-trained street trash. And it's easier to train two."

Lelouch paused, holding up a hand. "Wait... is this the most useful application of our time? We do not have a great deal of it..."

Lancer raised an eyebrow, leaning back... somehow. He wasn't entirely sure how she both leaned back on the already-pointed bedpost and kept from falling. "How long have you wanted to destroy this abomination that calls itself Britannia?"

"Seven years since I swore the oath. Perhaps one more year I considered it beforehand."

Lancer nodded, holding up a finger. "Seven years. You've wanted to destroy this nation for seven years. You can reasonably assume this was going to involve violence, right?"

"That... would be the most likely method, yes."

"So you've been planning for seven years to engage in violent actions, but never sought out instruction in how to do violence?"

Lelouch winced. "It never seemed the most efficient use of the time. While personal combat skills were useful, they took a back seat to knightmare operation, and that took a back seat to learning strategy and tactics, and acquiring funding... Between the need to maintain a cover identity, spend time with Nunnally..." He shrugged. "The time never appeared."

"You said the King must lead, Lelouch," Lancer began. "And that's true. But he has to know what he's doing up there. Now don't get me wrong - excellence isn't required. Combat skill doesn't make a King. But if you're at the front, you must not be a liability."

... Damnation. She was either right, or at the very least he could not find any logical argument to disagree. The fact was that no matter how intricate his plan, if one person appeared in front of him, it could all fall apart if he couldn't protect himself. Had he seriously pissed away seven years that carelessly?

It had always been a long-term goal... but that had been the problem, hadn't it? He would destroy Britannia 'someday'. An hour here or there could disappear without much trouble when his goal was decades from fruition - but over seven years, 'an hour here or there' added up. Just one hour out of a day, over seven years, was... more than two thousand five hundred hours that he'd relaxed or socialized instead of advancing his plans.

Lelouch gritted his teeth, meeting the Servant's red eyes. "... I acknowledge my error. How do I correct it? We're playing catchup now. Is it correctable in the timeframe we have?"

Lancer hummed. "... Possibly. Can you dance?"

"Can I... pardon?" Lelouch stared.

"Dance. You know, the thing you do to music, when there's space, and usually a partner?"

"I am aware of what dancing is. And for what it matters, I learned when I was a boy in Britannia." He waved a hand dismissively. "Picked up everything, as best I know. Waltz, pasodoble, highland, barynya, sean nos... do you really want the whole list? How relevant is this?"

Lancer's eyebrow rose. "Just to clarify, first. You were exiled at nine, right? You learned all these before then?" At his nod, her smile grew to match his widest and most ferocious. "You ever heard the saying 'Never give a sword to a man who can't dance'?"

"... Are we relying on proverbs, now?"

"Of course not. But the saying reflects a truth - a truth I'll start teaching you tomorrow. Your knack for dance doesn't mean you're there yet, or that it'll be easy. But it does mean I have enough to work with. The Grail War usually lasts just a few weeks according to my provided information - you likely won't be as skilled as a Britannian knight at the end of that period, but you'll have a basis to work from."

Lelouch frowned. "... All right. I will take advantage of the offer. But-"

"Yes, you're a nonathletic weakling. I know." Lancer waved a hand. "Again, I can work with it. Don't make me explain it now, I'm going to have to say the same thing to Kokoro tomorrow."

"Mm. Fair enough."

"Speaking of Kokoro and tomorrow - I will, to an extent, be using you as her training dummy."

"... That sounds unpleasant."

Lancer chuckled. "It will be, a little. But she needs the confidence-building. I'll be honest right here - from what I've seen, you are more likely to have a gift for this than she is. But given the issues I raised earlier, I'll be reserving most of the on-the-spot praise for her. Your ego doesn't need the boost."

"Gee. Thanks." Lelouch shook his head. "Anyway. You mentioned at the beginning that you hadn't revealed your true identity or full range of abilities - but somehow, in all this, we got away from you actually saying why not."

Lancer paused, looking upward as she thought. "... Huh. So we did." She shrugged. "Simple enough, really - I was going to use it as a carrot to encourage you to either accept training, or to stay back and off the front. I prefer the former, but if your mental resistance weren't up there, you'd get yourself torn apart by a half-competent enchanter - which is a likely summary of every caster likely to participate in an event like this. They're not all going to be random gifted kids off the street. And while your willingness to take the risk is admirable, that also means you have to have the capacity to take the risk - because if you fail to, your entire cause falls apart when you die."

"You know, I did get it when you said it a minute ago. I haven't forgotten."

Lancer chuckled. "Fair enough. Anyway, since all the nitty-gritty's been ordered out on my end, identity. My name is-"

Lelouch waved a hand. "Don't need it. I've figured it out already."

Lancer raised an eyebrow.

"Just one question - how long was your reign?" He rested his chin on his hand. "This has always bugged me. The most recent historiography is highly untrustworthy, but the older records mention your name as far back as year zero, but they also highlight your command in the Gallic River Campaign in ATB 160." He shrugged. "Originally, I assumed you just had a descendant with your name, but given the lunacy we've had lately, I honestly wouldn't be surprised at this point if you really were ruling that long."

Lancer shook her head. "Yes and no. I was around for that entire span of time, but not all of that was my reign. Back in year zero, I was a cute fourteen-year-old princess. Harmless." She smiled brightly, looking, for a moment, like the most girlish thing he'd ever seen. "And I passed down the throne before the river campaign. I was sticking around in an advisory and military role."

Lelouch blinked. "Wait, that was the original form? You passed it down while still alive?" That... actually made a distressing amount of sense. Establish a tradition of gracefully passing down power when appropriate instead of clinging to it for your whole life, and stay around to teach the new guy when you were done, make sure he had a firm grasp of how to do it...

Lancer blinked. "Well... obviously. I stick around for a while, might as well take advantage of it. To be honest, I don't know if my longevity is my ancestry, or just personal abnormalities. I'm not on speaking terms with my nonhuman half, so I haven't really asked. Fairies are all dicks. Having one is optional. Being one is not."

"... Optional?" He didn't want to know, but he had to ask.

"Shapeshifting. I was going to suggest I take over as Clovis, but..." She shook her head. "My own fault. There didn't seem time to communicate it during the battle, and your plan was a bit more 'open' than I'd expected. By the time I realized what you were doing, it was too late for my plan to have a chance of working. Too much damage and aggression for any reasonable chance of an unharmed Clovis turning up."

Lelouch paused, staring at the small girl sitting on his bedpost. "... Are you telling me that because we didn't talk about the specifics of your abilities, I missed out on the chance to have complete, instant control of the Area?"

Lancer smiled sheepishly. "Kinda."

Lelouch buried his face in his hands. "Damnation."

"So. Yes. This was why I wanted to get the specifics of our personal contract cleared up, so I could tell you, and we don't have any further issues like that."

Lelouch looked up, sighing. "Well. Since we missed out on instant-win, it looks like we'll need to go with the old-fashioned way. Good thing I've studied a lot of that... good work on the river campaign, by the way. Masterpiece."

Lancer chuckled, smiling. "Flatterer. You know, while I still like the tactics, they could only be applied because there was a long-term strategy of economic interdiction in place. And even then, I could only deal that blow because they were stretched thin between all the other nations they'd pissed off." She waved a hand. "Even then, while it was 'the final blow', it wasn't the end. It was a crushing morale victory, and they never really recovered, but it took years to dismantle them, and far beyond that to really put everyone they'd crushed under their heels back on their feet."

"Which is exactly why I studied that campaign in detail."

Lancer leaned back on thin air, grinning. "No other Servant can possibly have gotten as good a Master."

Lelouch glanced towards her, and flushed, averting his gaze. "Lancer." He had far too enticing a view of the gap of thigh between her stockings and the bottom of her skirt.

Lancer looked down, blinking, and flushed, shifting her position to not display herself. "Ah... sorry. Sex and seduction aren't actually things I do for fun, but they come easily to me. Too easily. Side effect of being half leanan sidhe."

Lelouch blinked. "Seduction fairies?"

She held up her hands. "I don't know the details, but considering the way everything tends to kick up around me... My control over my glamour isn't quite... exact." For a moment, with the way the short bob of her hair fell, the sheepish smile, the light swishing of her legs in the air, she looked almost achingly cute, before she switched the effect off - still cute, but he no longer had to actively hold himself back from hugging the small girl. "The control disappears entirely if I lose consciousness. When I fall asleep, everyone in the building gets nightmares, wet dreams, or a mix thereof. On a good night." She shrugged. "On a bad night, me sleeping... you'd wake up with your friend Nina, and a quantity of mysterious fluids, in your bed, along with the dawning realization that you weren't just dreaming."

Lelouch blinked. "Wait, why Nina?" ... Was that really the appropriate question in this circumstance?

Lancer shrugged again. "Your sister and your wife would be busy with each other," she casually uttered words no man should ever hear, "and your maid isn't really interested. Nina is the only one who would be within range of my usual area of effect, interested enough to act on it, and free to."

Lelouch stared. "... Don't sleep, Lancer."

She flexed an arm. "Advantage of being a ghost. I'm not going to need to sleep unless I get catastrophically low on prana."

Lelouch idly considered the idea of taking up religion just so he'd have something to give thanks to, then shrugged it off. "So..." He paused. "... I know there are more important things, but wait. Interest? Nina?"

Lancer held up her hands. "Mind you, we're not talking true eternal love or anything ludicrous like that. But you're a very attractive man and she's very aware of that."

"... Right. Moving on." To less embarrassing topics. "I fear I do not have my end of our contract entirely planned out, but at the very least, no more seduction of anyone in this house, especially not with the forms of others. If you keep doing it accidentally, that's one thing, but try keep it tuned down."

Lancer nodded. "All right, no problems on that end. Like I said, this really isn't my idea of fun. It just comes too naturally."

"Beyond that... mm." He shook his head. "For now, let's just get down to exchanging information - including the specifics of your abilities - and planning. If either of us has any more obnoxious habits, I'm sure they'll come up sooner or later." He stood, moving over to his desk. "And here, before I forget, some library books for you. Knightmare basics, physics, electrical principles." He passed the stack into the girl's strong grip.

Lancer grinned. "Let's make the next few weeks interesting."

~~~I========>

Wise Up - Saber Aon

Also known as King Arthur.

You could perhaps call this a familiar face. So close, yet so far away. The legends are broadly similar, though the fine details are not quite the same. Guinevere was a Knight of the Round, for one, Mordred remained loyal to the end and proudly crowned her successor, Galahad, as King of Kings... You begin to see just how much difference the details can make, yes? Lancelot enjoyed this timeline a great deal more, I must say.



Master: Kallen Stadtfelt. Of course, you can't hear me say that, can you, Archer?

----Summoner: Gbirxeq ja Hrappivai. ... Not getting through either, hm? I suppose the Grail system will not permit 'intelligence' to be passed on. We shall have to find a way around this 'causality' problem.

Alignment: Lawful Good. Though compared to the one you know, a bit less stick up her... well, never mind. I suppose never having to hide your gender and your true self leaves one a bit more comfortable in their own skin.

Even if it was still forgotten over time. Perhaps there is some kind of strange gender curse involved? I certainly wouldn't know anything about any kind of crossdressing festival. And I have millions of alternate universes full of blackmail material along the same vein if you say otherwise.

Strength: B. She is presently in 'power saving' mode, which you should be familiar with, reducing her parameters so as to conserve prana. Her true rank is, of course, A.

Agility: C. Power saving. B.

Endurance: B. I will tire of saying this. A.

Mana: B. I really will. A.

Luck: B+. Finally! It ends! A+.



Class Skills:
----Magic Resistance A: You are intimately (heheh) familiar with this, of course. Following your usual ranking system, this simply... negates a spell below A-rank. A spell that could level a house will simply wash off her like a light morning's breeze. Anyone near her may find themselves a bit more concerned, though.

Practically speaking, she is untouchable by most modern magi. Directly. You can always Trace/Project/whatever something and hit her with it. And while she will ignore a spell that sends a house flying, the flying house will be somewhat more of a problem... what? Stop looking at me like that. I am a strategist, and I know you have played with the problem in your head.

----Riding B: I probably do not need to define the ability itself. Usually, the skill was developed by horse riders, but the 'feeling' transmits, and the Grail itself updates their skills appropriately. Bear in mind that while the Grail updates their skills, they have not truly learnd them. A Rider can only teach what they in fact know, even if, thanks to the Grail, they can do more. B rank is quite good, capable of handling most mundane creatures and most vehicles - with impressive skill, note. Phantasm races are a bit tetchier and beyond this capacity, though.

Personal Skills:
----Instinct A: This is the true power of Arturia. Not strength, not prana, not speed, not her sword, not her sheath. Sensitivity. This really is not precognition, or anything supernatural. She is simply extremely sensitive to small cues. She can 'feel' a mount's hesitation underneath her, the minute shifts in a man's stance as he is about to attack... she is not consciously aware of it - conscious processing simply does not work that fast - but it enters her subconscious, and unlike many, she listens. She can have a conversation with your wall and know, from that, what kind of person you are.

----Prana Burst A: Simple, and therefore effective. It is a sign of the corruptions of the modern media that I was about to say 'surprisingly effective' - because in truth, simplicity is directness. And within that, there is strength. When you are going to hit someone, you hit them, and the fact that your blow veered four time zones to the left before coming to connect is something to be ashamed, not proud, of.

It is similar to Reinforcement, but it is a far more brutal variety thereof, taught to Arturia by the bard, Myrrdin (or rather, demonstrated, against her, until she figured it out for herself, he took an unholy glee in messing with people, as you may expect from a half-demon). Not a commonly known skill, even among Heroic Spirits.

The first step, reinforcement, is where one flushes their body, weapons, etcetera, with prana, thereby - stay with me here, this part is complicated... reinforcing... the function. The second step is the burst - immediately expelling the prana in a jet burst, generating truly intense amounts of force. The third step, done simultaneous to the second, is re-reinforcing.

Suffice to say, a large amount of prana is expended to perform this technique. But if the prana is available, well, the speed and power become quite intense. Arturia is a 42-kilogram fifteen-year-old slip of a girl, and through this technique, capable of arm-wrestling demigods.

She is also capable of applying reinforcement to her body's regenerative functions. Every body attempts to heal itself, of course. And reinforcement is not a spell that strengthens - it is a spell that enhances the function. I don't really have to finish this with the whole 'and healing is a function everyone has', do I?

----Charisma A: Charisma is, simply put, the ability to command. Not, mind, the ability to know what is a wise action - but the ability to inspire. This is a truly spectacular level thereof, suitable not just for a King, but a King of the people, one beloved by those they lead. I should say, this is a very dangerous skill. Inspiration and enthusiasm can sometimes carry the day. But without wisdom, it becomes very difficult to tell when you are wrong. And with charisma, no one will tell you.



Noble Phantasm:
----Reaching Air (Grasp of the Wind King) Anti-Unit C: King Arthur has, legendarily, possessed two noteworthy daggers. One is Carnwennan. A dagger that renders its wielder invisible. By shrouding them in thousands of layers of compressed air, distorting the refraction of light... Yes... you're beginning to get it, aren't you? If Heracles can learn to copy the powers held by his Noble Phantasms, then why can't Arturia?

That was, of course, not the only function she could perform, though it was the one she borrowed from Carnwennan. The remainder was essentially spellwork - she is no magus (an evaluation she would likely take some pride in), but she has a good wind affinity and a truly stellar amount of prana.

The other dagger worthy of note is called Flixith - whose mention in myth is 'grants its wielder a number of invisible arms'. The Arturia of this world found this one more to her taste, and developed a somewhat different degree of fine control.

The broad strokes of wind use are generally similar, of course. Your world's Arturia is better at folding and compressing the air. Mine, on the other hand, is better at manipulating it - as you may gather from the fact that she can pick up an egg... or a dozen eggs... without cracking a one.

----Caledvwlch (The Sword of Promised Victory) Anti-Fortress A++: As a man who can read the history of swords, you know this already, but just the same, I will say it.

The name 'Excalibur' is false. It is a Latinized form of the blade's true name. (In defence of Geoffrey of Monmouth, Welsh is not exactly easy to pronounce if you are not raised on it)

However, this world was not Latinized. If anything, this world was Gaelicized. You may have noticed everyone speaking with Welsh/Scottish/Irish accents.

And therefore, the Sword of Promised Victory retained its true name in memory - Caledvwlch. A Servant is brought about by myth and legend, and sometimes, that myth and legend can alter small things beneath their notice - be caught up in the flow of 'common sense' and forget fact. A Servant may forget that they did, in fact, know the world was round long before 1492, for instance. Or they may unconsciously morph the name of their weapon to match the most widespread legends.

You can, of course, see its true name when you trace it. Of course, you still have difficulty pronouncing its Welsh name, so you go with the Irish name 'Caladbolg' for your horrifically mutated and simplified version. Arturia was not the first one entrusted with that mightiest of swords. Though I suppose you are the last - if not precisely in the way intended.

Caledvwlch is one of the most powerful weapons created - a construction of the wishes of all those who fight, stored and crystallized within the planet, and tempered and forged into a blade by the Sidhe - terminals of the world. When supplied with prana, it enables a mortal warrior to deliver strikes on the level of Divine Spirits - that is to say, gods.

It looks like a beam of light, but that is simply a matter of visuals. Only the tip of the beam does anything - the beam is in fact an aftereffect. The sword actually distorts the structure of space. It does not impact anything - it tears the space it occupies, and thus it as well, apart, leaving only light.

Only a similar distortion of the fabric of space - or of the very concept of space - can block this attack. And the area of effect is somewhat frightening as well. The Sidhe did not, perhaps, do a very good job on scaleability of this weapon. I would much prefer being able to use small bursts to destroy defences without having to worry about levelling a city. Though I suppose when you want to level a city...

It can, however, be used in the 'Vortigern' technique - coat the weapon in its spatial distortion, and it can cut through anything, and much more controllably and energy-conserving than the traditional blast..

----Avalon (The Ever-Distant Utopia) Support EX: I mention this only to bring up its absence. It was used as the summoning catalyst, so the Servant did not bring it from the Throne. You're lucky in that respect. Also, you must bear in mind. Arturia is the proper Master of Avalon, and a proper master is required for it to function. But in a broader sense, the royalty of Britannia is the proper master. It will likely not function as well as for Arturia... but it may well function. This is not an experiment I have performed before.

You know the basic function, of course. Even while passive, it provides constant regeneration to its bearer. You know well this benefit, I do not need to go into detail.

When activated, it is much, much more interesting. It is worth noting? Avalon itself actually holds no power. That sounds like an amusing claim, but it is the truth. The sheath is, essentially, a telephone, calling the true Avalon to its wielder. The true Avalon is considered the realm of the fairies, but it is, more correctly, a Reality Marble. It is the inner world of Viviane, Lady of the Lake, Queen of the Sidhe, and creator of the sheath and sword - a tranquil domain where no harm may be done. The sheath is, in a sense, more useful in a battle. Within the Reality Marble itself, you cannot be harmed, but your enemy cannot either. With the sheath... the wielder is the only one who has been brought to Avalon.

Interestingly, the word actually means 'Apple'. It is the name she gave to the child of herself and Myrrdin, years later, when she began to regret abandoning the little hybrid in a Hertfordshire forest. She was... well, let us simply go with 'a much less nice person' in her younger years, and Myrrdin was being used and manipulated as well.

~~~I========>

Author's Notes:
First thing's first - thanks go out to prereaders - the list being Sunshine Temple, DCG, Ellf, and Belgarion213.
Re Nina's living quarters. This is frankly the best guess I can make, given a variety of incidents (including, yes, The Table) where she and Nunnally just casually run into each other when they're both staying home. And Nina's generally... er, very 'comfortable' in the building.
As always, reviews, comments, corrections, and etcetera are appreciated whether for good or ill, and my email's always open (PaleWLF @ gmail com).

[Pale Wolf]

Disclaimer: No copyright is mine, thus no copyrighted character is. If you recognize them from something that's not written by 'Pale Wolf', I have no legal claim to them.

Code Geass: The War Of Kings

By Pale Wolf

Chapter Five

The Knight, The King, and the Witch

~~~I========>

"... So how are we going to work this?" her Master asked, slumping on her bed. "You've been hanging over me all day like freakin' Ceiling Cat."

Saber Aon's query to the Grail's cultural information system regarding exactly what that meant simply turned up a very mystifying phrase without context. So she ignored whatever exactly that meant, and materialized on the piano seat again, shrugging. "In large part that is dependent on you, Kallen. If you do not wish to serve as a Master within the Holy Grail War, then I can find an appropriate candidate and we can terminate our contract."

Kallen shook her head, holding up her hands in a T shape. "Back up, back up. We never got the chance this morning, so... what the hell is the Holy Grail War? This sounds utterly ridiculous, but whatever, you're a ghost that claims to be King Arthur. Either I'm crazy or the world is, so let's just hear what you have to say."

Oh dear, Kallen had just exposed herself to effects that would be downright frightening, were Aon anything like Myrrdin. Fortunately she wasn't, so with a small smile, she explained. "It is a magical ritual. Seven - or in this context, eight, and I haven't a clue what that alters - Heroic Spirits, including myself, bludgeon one another into the ground, and when only one is standing, the Holy Grail manifests before them, with the power to grant their wishes." Aon waved a hand. "I have no desperate wish, nor idea where to find the other Servants, so I am relatively satisfied to sit back, assist you against Britannia, and deal with enemy Servants if I find them. They will have to come to me in the end one way or the other, regardless."

Kallen paused, holding up a hand. "Wait a second. Assist me against Britannia? Where'd you get that idea?"

Aon just looked at her. "Nowhere in particular," she blandly replied. "I mean, it is not as if you stated a distaste for Britannia and identified yourself as a citizen of a nation presently under their oppression, who is in contact with mysterious figures who refuse to give their name, and is acquainted with the basics of combat." This Master of hers really wasn't exactly expert at keeping secrets...

Kallen stared blankly at the Servant, finger upraised, mouth half-open, before she finally admitted, "... I've got nothing." She lay back on her bed. "So... since you're shrugging off this Holy Grail War thing, whatever. If someone comes at me I'll hit them upside the skull a few times. So what are you actually planning on doing with this whole 'assist against Britannia' thing? You got all tetchy when I tried to contact anyone else, so you're obviously not offering to join our group." Kallen sat back up, frowning. "And hey, what's with that, anyway?"

Aon shrugged. "Casters of this time are apparently quite secretive. Personally speaking, it is not an issue to me. But they can be highly aggressive about protecting their secrets, and most of the Masters of the Holy Grail War will be among them. I can protect your comrades against one Servant - perhaps even more. But I can not save them from a concerted assault."

The redhead folded her arms across her chest. "We're not exactly helpless little muffins, Aon."

Aon nodded. "Of course. You are combatants. I do not doubt that." As Kallen relaxed infinitesimally, Aon moved, flashing across the space between them with a jet burst of white prana flaring off her back, arm shooting forward.

Kallen's reflexes were fast, but her body wasn't up to the challenge - her rising hand slammed into Aon's forearm and stopped there after the attack was already delivered, the deflection failing entirely, unable even to shake Aon's arm.

It was fortunate Aon had aimed to the side of her Master's head, because the wall behind her cracked under the concussion wave of her punch, and several trimmed red hairs drifted to the crimson sheets of the bed. "Yes, you are combatants. But there is a reason Servants found their way into myth and legend."

Kallen stared, wide-eyed. "I... could only barely..."

Aon pulled her arm back, lightly padding back to her seat. "I do not say this to be condescending. But Servants are the deadliest combatants the world has ever known. One day you may find yourselves among that number, but on this day, a Servant is not a danger to be shrugged off."

She hoped the demonstration had been shocking enough, because she didn't want to have to genuinely go after her Master to show what she meant.

Kallen's lips twisted up into a grin. "Can you teach me?"

Or, of course, there was always that method. Aon held up a hand. "Poorly. I never learned to teach. My own teacher..." She shook her head, shivering. 'I could teach you, but giant demon dog' echoed in her memories, along with a lot of her own (pained, terrified, angered) yelling. That damn Myrddin. "... suffice to say, the closest I could do to teaching you would be to hit you until you figured out how to hit back." She could at least tone down the psychological trauma somewhat. Hopefully. And at least this would give Kallen a clearer idea of exactly what she was up against and a better knowledge of when she should run.

Kallen waved it off. "It's what I've got, I'll use it. ... Well, I'll use it once we find some clear space to do it, anyway." She looked around the room.

Aon followed her gaze. Yes, she supposed some suspicion might be aroused if everything in there were destroyed between the two of them, even if it was fairly spacious. "Then we are agreed?"

"I wouldn't say agreed, but you've made it pretty plain that whether or not I trust you, I can't really get rid of you until you find someone else to bother."

Aon nodded, sitting down once more and lacing her fingers together in her lap. "Once I find another suitable candidate for Master, we will revisit the issue. Until then, consider me your guardian ancestral spirit."

"I'm not Britannian," the girl snapped, more off reflex than anything else.

"Of course not," Aon agreed. She didn't blame the girl for the rejection. Britannia had fallen on bad times.

Fact was, though, that Kallen was the perfect example of Britannia's knightly ideal. Aon would reserve a space for her, in the event she accepted the truth behind her heritage. And if she never did... well, letting people go their own way was part of that ideal as well. It was a pity to lose someone truly excellent, but there were those who were both excellent and willing.

~~~I========>

Kokoro watched the screens, staring. "... Lancer really wasn't kidding." As a magus, the incredible lack of subtlety displayed by the three rebels following Kallen was vaguely offensive. Secrecy was life's breath, heart's blood, and mother's milk for a magus.

From a seat across the security room, Lelouch nodded, smiling faintly. "They are bad, aren't they? It looks like three stalkers pursuing a schoolgirl. I will give them points for not blowing a gasket at the propaganda, though."

The propaganda really was overwhelming. Again, as someone taught subtlety before she'd learned how to walk, it was laid on so thickly as to be nearly offensive. 'The Britannian army's overwhelming victory made the ignorant Japanese government realize how insignificant they were. In the aftermath of this lesson, the Empire and Elevens worked together, paving the way for a new rebirth'? Seriously?

Then again, this 'Victory Memorial Center' the Britannians had turned the broken Tokyo Tower into wasn't for the Japanese. It was for the Britannians, who'd been taught this ridiculosity (was that a word?) before they became old enough to reject the nonsensical. This was their common sense.

Though... Kokoro glanced back from the screen, to Lelouch. "Are you really planning on robbing a museum?"

"'Planning' would imply I hadn't finished up five minutes ago. Their operating budget is now in one of our dummy accounts - thank you for getting that manager's access, by the way. Lancer should be cashing it now, before they freeze the account, and off we go. The store room's off-display exhibits are already loaded aboard our rental transport. I wonder if any of those tanks can be made operational again..."

Kokoro raised an eyebrow, turning her gaze back to the screen. "You know I was referring to the moral dimension, right?"

"What moral dimension? A real museum, a place that teaches valuable lessons, I would never rob. You know as well as everyone here, this is a propaganda center."

Kokoro nodded. She'd more or less expected that answer. Didn't really disagree with it, either. Though... "Won't the government just refill the budget from more important things?"

She could hear the rustling of cloth as he shrugged. "No. This is not a government-funded facility, it is a private enterprise. It won't crash, either, more's the pity. These enterprises usually have some spare squirreled away."

She nodded absently, watching the three men, led by the curly-haired one in the brown jacket, stop in front of one of the naval war pictures, chatting under their breaths, demonstrably not looking at each other. Too obvious, she wanted to scream. They talked plenty loud when they were pretending to be quislings who actually bought into the propaganda, but whenever they said anything real they went all quiet. They shouldn't be saying anything real when they were out in public on an operation to begin with! Were they really discussing confidential, rebellion information in a Britannian propaganda center?

And they were all wearing the exact same brand of red headband. As uniforms went, it was quite subtle, but they shouldn't be wearing uniforms on a spy mission to begin with!

She could feel Lelouch's eyes on her, and she knew there was that slight smile on his face. "Painful, isn't it?"

Kokoro sighed, clutching a lock of her hair and tugging. "It's like they learned all their tradecraft from spy movies... please tell me Lancer didn't have to hurt the guards to clear out this room. This... really isn't worth it."

Lelouch chuckled, waving a hand. "Don't worry. She honey-trapped them and drew them into a back room. From there, she said she would just knock them out with a light prana drain. I checked, they seemed otherwise uninjured, just tired."

Kokoro frowned. "... Hey, where's the Servant?" If the Servant were scouting the place out... they could be getting observed without even knowing it.

Lelouch chuckled. "I was wondering that myself... and I believe I have a way to find out. It is a pity this place does not have infrared cameras, but I suppose we will simply improvise." He flicked his circuits on for a fraction of a second, prompting Kallen to jump, looking around wildly as she felt another Master's presence.

They both watched as the redhead calmed momentarily - head slightly cocked as if she was listening to something.

"Servant located," Kokoro stated unnecessarily. "But she will be scouting around now."

"That's not a worry. We're done." Lelouch smiled as a musical tone echoed across the building.

"To our visitor, Miss Kallen Stadtfelt of Ashford Academy, your lost item has been delivered to the service counter," a young woman stated in the usual warm tone of a customer service worker. "Please proceed to the service counter of the viewing platform to collect your lost item. I repeat..."

Stadtfelt had already begun moving, of course, and the three men turned to look at her former position as if they were trying to be as obvious as possible about being stalkers.

Lelouch rose off his seat with a light grunt. "Took them long enough to process it... I'm heading out to my position." He picked up a briefcase - containing his newly modified outfit - as he turned towards the door.

Kokoro nodded, standing herself. "I'll contact you when I'm in place."

Lelouch glanced at her for a moment. "... Are you comfortable with the Sutherland?"

"Mm... I believe you drilled me sufficiently on the targeting system, at least, this morning." She wouldn't want to move it, but she didn't have to - she was basically just there to aim the gun from a hidden location at anyone threatening Lelouch. He or Lancer could take over to bring the thing back to their hideout, after the meeting was done. "Are you comfortable with the reinforcement?"

Lelouch smiled. "I don't believe I'd be up to it by myself, but those threads you reinforced should cover the difference. I've practiced it until I can do the movements in my sleep."

~~~I========>

Ohgi Kaname, with Sugiyama and Yoshida flanking him, strode through the streets after Kallen. The crowds thinned out rapidly, the further away from the Tokyo Settlement - and the deeper into the ruins of the real Tokyo - they got.

Up ahead, Kallen was holding up the phone she'd been given at the museum, glaring at it as if it had told her it had the secrets to life, the universe, and everything, but wasn't telling, neener neener.

She'd met up with them in the elevator down the Tokyo Tower, discussing in private for a moment before separating and resuming their 'we just happen to be in the same area, we're not associated' act.

Zero really was a wonder. He'd seen through them like it was nothing. It was embarrassing, to be sure, but... well, Zero had it. The same miraculous spark that had created Itsukushima. The same spark Naoto had had. And they had nothing on him. Kallen had had a great idea, asking the woman at the service desk who'd left the phone, but... well, what were they supposed to do with that description? 'Brown-haired, nondescript, average height, heavyset'? Assuming it wasn't just an agent of his. Or someone who actually had just found the phone.

Lost in his thoughts and slipping through the last few members of the crowd, Kaname didn't even notice the tall, thin Japanese boy until he'd stepped in front of the three of them.

"Please, stop." the boy began, tone apologetic. "You are bothering that young woman."

Kaname blinked slowly, wondering just what the hell the green-eyed kid was talki... he recognized that face, jaw slackening slowly.

Yoshida and Sugiyama traded looks, before Sugiyama answered. "Er... what?"

The boy - a minor celebrity among the Honourary Britannians, a downright poster-boy for the quislings - jerked his head over his shoulder, indicating Kallen. "The young lady has been looking very distressed by your presence. You're following her. I must ask you to leave." He bowed his head, brown locks falling over his eyes. "If you do so, I will not pursue the matter further."

Over the boy's shoulder, Kaname could see Kallen turning around, probably wondering what the heck was going on.

Kaname blinked. "Hey, wait, we're-"

"I do not want to hear excuses!" the Honourary boy barked. "Leave her alone. I do not wish to use force, but I possess the capacity."

"Oi!" Kallen stalked back towards where the boy had them stopped. "Back off, buddy!"

The boy blinked, looking around to her. "I... apologize if I overstepped my bounds, but... these men have been following you."

"They're called bodyguards, you halfwit!" she hissed. Kallen snorted, tapping her khaki uniform blazer. "I'm an aristocrat, I'm not going around down here without protection, but it has to be subtle. Are we clear?"

The boy's eyes widened. "Ah... I... my apologies!" He bowed sharply. "I will add to your escort, ma'am. I... believe I arouse less suspicion."

... Okay, Kaname knew he was bad at this, but did everyone have to notice?

Kallen's eyes narrowed. "Have you ever even heard the word 'privacy'? I don't know who you are. You're far more suspicious."

The boy chuckled, smiling sheepishly. "That may be tr..." The smile snapped off his face and his head jerked around at something they couldn't see. "I... believe I will leave you to it, then." He didn't look at them as he spoke, gaze fixated on... something. Kaname couldn't see anything. "Please excuse me."

The boy jogged off.

... Even more oddly, the crowd was slowly moving away from the area. It didn't even look like they noticed, but they were drifting out of this area of the ghetto as if they had all simultaneously gotten the idea that it was nicer elsewhere.

Kallen's new phone rang again - she snapped it up, answering instantly. "Yes?" A moment later, she lowered it, and pointed deeper into the ghetto - the opposite way from where the boy and the locals were going. "Under the tracks," she muttered, voice low.

Kaname nodded, and started moving ahead. No one was even around, so he supposed they didn't need to even bother with their (clearly doomed) efforts at subtlety.

The three of them drifted after Kallen, Sugiyama and Yoshida fanning out to left and right at Kaname's signals.

It was a while through the broken buildings, the rubble... the Britannians hadn't even bothered cleaning up the Eleven ghettoes. It was a wreck out here, and while the people who were living here (solely for lack of a better place) had done what they could to clean up, they just didn't have the equipment to move all the heavy debris. Or even the money to paint over the scars in the landscape. It was enough miracle that there was sometimes power and water out here, barely a kilometer from the Britannian administrative seat.

The Tokyo ghetto was one of the worst war-wounded cities in Japan, as the seat of the old government, but none of them were really part of Britannia's nice, clean, gleaming-white Area Eleven. That was for Britannians, and quislings like the boy from earlier.

They passed under the tracks, into shadows, and moved into a circle, looking around.

... Nothing but peeling walls and scattered rubble. Not a single human, or animal, or... even the insects that usually plagued the ghettoes were gone.

Yoshida frowned, glancing at Kallen. "... Where is he? Do we really know if...?" If it isn't a trap, as he'd brought up earlier.

Kallen glared at the phone. "... He said down here. I don't know."

A train rattled past up ahead, jerking all of them out of their discussion.

In particular, it jerked Kaname's gaze up, and he gasped as he saw something in the shadows, nestled in the crook of the train overpass - wrapped in a long black cloak trimmed in silver and royal violet, a military-styled uniform underneath, and a black helmet with a ridge around his brow at the top.

A long, slim arm pointed down at Kaname, jerking back slightly. ... Message received.

The form from the videos - Zero - slid out of his perch, casually dropping the distance of two or three stories (how had he got up there in the first place...?) and landing in a crouch, rising up smoothly and elegantly as if that were completely normal and wrapping his tall frame in the cloak. "Good evening," he began, in that deep, powerful voice. "What are your thoughts on the tour?"

The four rebels traded looks.

Sugiyama shook his head. "Good gods, he's real." He looked at Kallen. "Please tell me it wasn't someone this... showy?"

Kallen held up her hands. "Sounds like him..."

The man didn't waver. "I wanted to ensure the important aspects were fresh in your mind." His right arm arced out, palm out, as if he was offering everything in that direction, including the Britannian city, to them. "You came from the settlement." His left arm came out, mirroring the gesture deeper into the ruins of Tokyo. "And into the ghetto."

Kaname nodded. "Yes. It's absolutely true, there's a massive gap between us and Britannia. It's an unassailable gap." Kaname honestly didn't even know at this point whether he was talking about the gap in strength, or the gap in lifestyle... in the end, he had the same thing to say about both, though. "That's why, as the resistance-"

"You are wrong," the voice declared conversationally. "Britannia cannot be defeated with mere terrorism." A hand flicked backwards, as if throwing the very idea away.

Kaname stared. "... Defeat?" That was... no way. It'd be lifetimes before defeat was in the cards, Britannia was an immense world superpower, the best they could hope for was to weaken them and cut down on the...

The masked face shook slightly. "Terrorism is no more than childish harassment."

Sugiyama growled, taking a step forward. "You trying to get at something?!"

Zero's head dipped fractionally, and Kaname could feel that burning gaze through the lavender face plate. "Do not mistake who your enemy is. You are not fighting the Britannians. You are fighting Britannia!"

Kaname's eyes dropped. It was impossible to defend after the incident in Osaka. Eight Britannians dead, fifty-one Japanese. Whoever had been behind that was bombing an office building.

"If you are going to do it at all, it is war," Zero continued. "Leave the civilians out of it. Prepare yourselves, and measure out justice!"

Kallen half-choked. "D... don't make jokes like that." She glared at Zero. "That's easier said than done! You think you can take on Britannia? How are we supposed to believe in someone that won't even show his face?!"

"That's right!" Yoshida barked. "Take that thing off!"

Kaname nodded slightly, rubbing his chin. Maybe he'd be the only calm one here, but... "I agree. Could you show us your face?"

Zero held up a finger. "I will show you one more thing. But first, will you follow me on a short philosophical tangent?"

The rebels traded confused looks, before Kaname nodded. May as well let the man make his presentation.

Zero's hand lowered, slipping under the cloak. "At this moment, I know three things about you. Your faces, your abilities, and your will to fight Britannia. Which of those is the most important?" His mask turned directly to face Kallen - and her entirely Britannian features.

Kallen gritted her teeth. "Are you trying to imply something? I am not-!"

Zero held up a hand. "Quite the opposite. Your face means nothing. Your skill is excellent, and your will is to fight against Britannia. I need no more than that." His shoulders came up in a slow, elegant shrug. "Your faces are irrelevant. Your names, I only require so I do not need to call you 'hey, you'. Your personal history is personal. I only want your will to fight Britannia, and your ability to do it."

Kaname slowly nodded his head. "And you're saying we shouldn't need anything more from you? ... I don't know. We've built up trust here, among each other. You're pretty much coming out of nowhere."

Zero's hands spread out openly. "You have built up trust in one another's will to fight Britannia. This, I understand. I do not ask for your trust. I ask for your eyes. Watch my actions, and decide whether or not I am to be trusted." His gaze locked on to Kallen. "I have delivered defeat to Britannia once, and victory to you. I have done so without terrorism, and without assault on civilians." He bowed his head. "I will do so again, if you follow me once more."

Kaname gnawed at his lower lip. "... Are you serious?" Zero was right. He had given them the biggest victory against Britannia since... forget Itsukushima, since ever. Kaname absolutely wanted to know who he was... but Zero absolutely wanted to remain silent on the topic. Zero might just be able to do it. And Kaname knew that he, himself... couldn't. He was just a stand-in for Naoto. Zero was the real thing. "Do you really think you can defeat Britannia?"

The mask did not waver for an instant. "Just watch me." He dipped just a hair, and then leapt, cloak billowing out behind him.

Kaname gaped as the mysterious strategist soared, up, and up, and up... three stories, landing on the train tracks. Zero's hand snapped up to his mask in a short salute, before he leapt off the tracks, across another ten meters to land on the roof of one of the nearby shattered buildings.

... There was no way they'd keep up with him.

Kaname looked to Kallen, because if anyone could...

She shook her head, holding up her hands helplessly. "I can't do that crap. I'm human, in case you missed it. He must be using wires or something..." She jerked her head in the direction Zero had left by, muttering "Aon" under her breath.

Sugiyama blinked. "Wires? I dunno... I didn't see any... It was pretty dark, though, so maybe?"

Yoshida hummed, moving up to where Zero had stood. "However he was pulling that bullshit, he left something." He knelt down, picking up a cheap cellphone wrapped in a scrap of paper. He unwrapped the paper, reading it with a short frown. "... Contact information. And a place and time for his next operation." He held the phone and paper out.

Kaname reached out to take them, sighing. Clearly, Zero wanted them to think about whether or not they should join him. Kaname... probably would try at least his first few operations. Fuyuki had turned out incredibly because of this weirdo. "... Just who was that masked man?"

~~~I========>

Kururugi Suzaku frowned, slipping through the waves of people as they milled around, towards the strange, unnatural scent. He'd only received the barest minimum of training in the family duties, but even he could feel the pulsing waves of... comfort.

Something was luring these people in. And it was inviting him to see. The scent of ash and orchards had only appeared after he'd been resisting the pull for a while. After he'd gotten its attention... no, her attention. There was something feminine about it.

... Up ahead. Down that alleyway. That was the center.

Suzaku jogged ahead, slipping a hand under his jacket to lay on his sidearm. He preferred fighting unarmed, but his training had been cut off in childhood, with the settlement of Japan. He was not up to fighting a hybrid unarmed.

He stepped through the pockmarked street, and turned 'round the corner. Then he saw her.

... She must be one of those hybrids with thick inhuman blood. She simply sat calmly and casually in the air as if gravity was a suggestion she just laughed off, legs crossed, biting into a bright red apple. Smaller than him and seemingly younger, with lightly pointed ears sticking out of short dark hair - there was an earpiece communicator loosely attached over the right ear. Blood red eyes watching him carefully. And the whole girlish frame was wrapped in a short black dress with some lace and a red bow at the collar, black stockings... "Top of the mornin' to ya," she chirped, taking another bite from the apple and chewing with an almost insufferably cute smile on her face.

Suzaku swallowed. "... It's afternoon."

"It's an expression," the girl pointed out. "If you're going to pick on one part of that statement, why not ask what the heck the 'top' of a morning is? I don't know." Her eyes locked onto his hand underneath his jacket. "So how are we doing this? Violence, or conversation?"

Suzaku didn't let his hand drop off the gun. "That... depends on a lot." His instincts were boiling to kill her. Hybrids that leaned towards the demon side were major threats to anything human. But he was really, really not sure if he could. "Who are you? What are you doing to these people?"

The girl nodded, drifting down slightly towards the ground. "Call me Lan. You?" She extended the arm holding the apple towards him.

His eyes narrowed. "Kururugi Suzaku."

"Well, Suzaku, I'm not actually doing anything to them. Just luring them away so they don't get involved with something we're doing in that area of the ghetto." She waved a hand. "Relax, it's just a few minutes."

"... I apologize, but I cannot just relax. What is it that you are doing?"

"What are you doing here?" Lan returned. "It's a basic principle of deception. When you're up to no good, accuse the people you run into. They're too busy defending themselves to suspect you."

Suzaku's eyes narrowed. "I'm protecting people from you. You say you're not hurting anyone, but how can I trust that? Hybrids are dangerous, especially when they lean away from the human side." When the inversion impulse hit, they turned into predators, listening to their demonic instincts more than the conscience that said 'don't kill people'.

He froze. That glare. That crimson glare pierced through him as if... if it were possible to hate someone to death, she just would have.

Then it was gone, as her teeth tore into the apple again. She chewed slowly, eyes closed for a moment, and when she opened them, her expression was placid once more. "I don't care what my blood says. I am human, because I have chosen to be human. And humanity has chosen to remember me as such. Your opinion notwithstanding." She bit into the apple again.

"Then what are you doing?" Suzaku growled. "If you're not hurting anyone, then you should have no problem saying it!"

"My business is my business, Kururugi. You have no right to know it. I do not need to tell you what is private because you became uncomfortable with me."

Suzaku shook his head. "I need to know everyone is okay."

"And I've told you. Yes. No one is being harmed. You want more information because you don't trust me." Lan shrugged. "And that's fine. Want as much as you please. Your distrust doesn't make you merit that information, though. So you're not getting it." She held up a finger. "I'll throw you a bone. I don't exactly enjoy your company, but feel free to hang around keeping your eye on me. My job is just to keep the area clear. I will not be hurting anyone."

Suzaku bowed his head. "Then I'll go see what's happening in that area for myself." He slowly backed away.

Less slowly, Lan flashed across the space between them, eyes not wavering even slightly from the direct line at him, her left arm arcing down to push his pistol off-line even as he drew it, continuing the arc up and around to slip her arm around his, painfully locking it out straight and pointed uselessly away from her as her arm pushed through over his shoulder... "No you won't," she noted conversationally.

Suzaku hissed in pain. He could feel it, she'd stopped a millimeter short of snapping his elbow. A downward pressure continued, but slowly. Slowly enough for him to lower himself to the ground, avoiding the pain. "I... let me go!" He tried to move his right arm, but it was in a bad position, it had no strength. Couldn't even shift the shoulder, the entire arm was locked solid. Even his trained, enhanced strength didn't even matter against this position.

"I'll let you go when we're done. Shouldn't be too much longer."

Suzaku tried to flail out and do something with his left arm, but she'd snapped him around to face her side-on, it had to cross his entire body to reach her and from there it couldn't do anything... his fingertips could only barely brush against her bare arm.

"Don't overdo it, boyo. You do know if you start succeeding I could just break this thing, right?"

Suzaku slowly nodded, twisting his head around to look up at her. ... He had nothing. He was too off-balance to even pretend to trip her, his right arm and gun were frozen in place and she could snap it with a thought, and his left arm had no reach...

... She'd torn him apart and she hadn't even needed to dip into the abnormal abilities hybrids usually had. She was using less strength than he had. And only one hand. If... if she actually took this seriously, he would die in an instant.

There was nothing he could do to stop her from whatever she pleased. And there was no one he could call on to help - the hunter organization had dispersed out of his sight after the Britannians came in, and the mundane authorities would just laugh him off as a lunatic, even the army...

Suzaku swallowed. "... please don't be lying. Don't hurt anyone."

"Right now, no one's being hurt."

That 'right now' was miles from satisfactory, but then again he was sort of in a rather brutal lock and a whim away from having his arm snapped and face driven into the cracked street. So perhaps he couldn't get quite as picky about it as he wanted.

The girl cocked her head slightly, and nodded. "Got it. On the way." She slipped her arm out, letting Suzaku to the floor. "Later, Kururugi." The shadows of the alley deepened, and she vanished into them.

Suzaku looked around, frowning, as he slipped the gun back into its holster. He couldn't feel her at all... She was gone.

He stood up again, brushing off his pants, and stepped out of the alleyway, into the flux of people. He'd have to check that area she'd been clearing out... hopefully nothing bad had happened. At the least... when he'd been held at her mercy, she'd done nothing to him.

~~~I========>

Kallen frowned, slowly following the strange sense of Aon's location as the small woman trailed after Zero. If nothing else proved that they'd been bound together by some mystical force, the fact that she could feel where the ghost-person-thing was did.

And there was a strange thrumming in her right hand. She'd felt it back at Tokyo Tower, too, but far shorter-lived. Aon had said it was her Command Seals reacting to another competitor in this Grail War thing.

... Zero was involved in this. This was an invitation. It was a good thing she'd split off from Ohgi and the others... if anything anywhere near Aon's ability started going after them, they'd die in a split-second. If Zero was more involved in this supernatural crap, then maybe that would explain how he'd done those crazed jumps after the meeting... Her 'Seals' had just started going wild when he left.

It wasn't that hard to keep up. Zero had slowed down to normal human movement after his initial getaway, and seemed to have come to a stop a short distance from the original meeting place.

She didn't know how he'd gotten the streets empty for this, but passing through the empty ghetto was... disturbing. The city had been shattered for almost a decade, but now there was no one even there... it looked like the end of the world.

She pulled out her purse - the one with the hidden blade in it - as she made her way to where Aon, and presumably Zero (she could feel the mystery Master's presence, not his direction or distance) waited. Inside another one of the run-down buildings.

And then she was around the entry, and Zero was there, waiting at the back of what had once been a waiting room of some sort, cloak wrapped around himself.

He bowed his masked head. "Hello, Kallen. I note with approval that your Servant has not attempted to kill me yet."

The air between Kallen and Zero shone with brilliant white light, pooling together until it formed the shape of a human - and with a simple snap from one moment to the next, Aon stood there, her white dress made to look suddenly more martial from the steel plates of armour over it. Breastplate, gauntlets, plates over top of the skirt around her thighs, steel-plated boots... No weapon, though she held her hands at her waist as if on a sheath. "You seem to want to speak. So do so. And if your friend could come out, I would appreciate that."

Zero chuckled, and snapped his fingers.

The space behind him darkened, and out of the darkness stepped... another girl around Aon's apparent age and size. Were all Servants fifteen-year-old girls or something? This one was dark-haired, dressed in black, with a few points of red in her clothing and eyes, and her own hand held out ready to grasp a weapon.

Aon wavered slightly in front of Kallen, eyes widening.

The girl cocked her head, looking a bit surprised herself. "... Nero? What happened to your chest?" Aaaaand there went the tension of the moment. "I was only seeing you on spiritual before, but now that I see with my eyes..."

Aon tsked, lowering her hands. "Pardon me? I am no Roman."

Zero's Servant chuckled, waving a hand. "Clearly not, if you were you'd be too proud to even begin denying it. Still, the resemblance is..." She shook her head.

Zero glanced between the two Servants, before shaking his head. "... Right." He gestured to his dark-haired Servant. "Lancer."

Kallen blinked, pausing for a moment, before realizing she should respond. "Ah! Uh, Aon."

Aon held up a finger. "My class is Saber. I have chosen the numerical designation, because there is another Saber in the system, summoned by someone else."

Zero glanced at Lancer. "... Is that possible?"

The girl shrugged. "I heard from our ally, recently, that there were two Sabers summoned in the last War. Maybe the class is a bit gooier?" Awkward phrasing... did the 'recently' mean the ally had just now told her through the communicator dangling off her pointed ear?

Aon held up her hands. "I certainly do not know. I just got here."

Kallen looked around. "... So. Uh. I'm going to open this up by admitting I know jack about this Holy Grail War and whatever. Is there a, uh, procedure or something?" Crap. Were they supposed to fight it out now? She didn't really want to go after Zero, especially considering she knew how powerful an ally he was against Britannia...

Zero spread his arms. "I am a neophyte myself. Let us not stand on the rules. The fact is, we are agreed on our short-term objectives. I am entirely willing to ally with you until the end of either Britannia, or the Holy Grail War. When we have reached that point, we can settle who gets it between us."

Lancer chuckled, hopping onto what had once been a receptionist's desk, sitting down. "Might not even need to. If we have eight Servants... well, the Servants power the Grail. Killing six brings the Grail online. Might be possible to share it, if we can agree on what we want."

Kallen frowned. "... And what do you want?"

Zero bowed his head. "A gentler world. I'm neither arrogant nor insane enough to imagine I could fix it all, even with a magical wish. But a resolution to the wars that have plagued the world for as long as we've both lived, and an end to Britannia, will satisfy me."

He said 'satisfy' as if those alone weren't incredible enough ambitions on their own...

"The Britannia of today," Lancer corrected, holding up a finger.

Zero chuckled shortly. "That much is true. I seem to have established some habits."

Kallen folded her arms across her chest. "... Well, I can't really disagree on those. Assuming we can trust you. You've done plenty for us so far, but-"

Zero exhaled heavily. "It's all about that face, isn't it? This wasn't going to stay hidden from you for long anyway, I suppose..." He laid a hand on the mask, gently pulling it off, and revealing... Britannian features, narrow and severely beautiful, with high cheekbones, deep violet eyes, and dark hair... He was young, perhaps her age.

It actually took several seconds before Kallen cross-referenced the face, because aside from completely not expecting to meet someone she knew, even less had she expected to meet someone she knew from school. "L-Lamperouge?!"

The vice-president of the student council nodded, the mask folding up slightly, into what must have been an easy-storage form. "Milly will insist on it, so you should probably get used to calling me Lelouch."

Kallen gaped, holding up a finger. "But... you're... what?!"

"Britannian?" Lelouch queried, pulling off his cloak and stepping aside, towards a large briefcase lying in the corner of the reception room. "My birth did not override my ethics. If anything, it amplifies the matter. The behaviour of Britannia is, as a Britannian, my responsibility."

Aon laughed, moving over to sit in one of the chairs. "I knew some people got it!"

Kallen frowned, shaking her head. "... I don't like this. You're Britannian. What do you have attaching you to our cause? You could just drop it any day, go back to your luxurious Britannian lifestyle."

Lelouch shrugged, pulling off the military jacket under his cloak - Kallen was about to castigate him, before realizing he was wearing the Ashford school uniform under it all. "What do you have attaching yourself to it? You enjoy the even more luxurious lifestyle of a Britannian aristocrat. I, on the other hand, have killed an Imperial Prince. You are a problem, I have made myself identified as a personal enemy. Even were I unattached before, I certainly cannot go back now."

Kallen hissed. Fuck. He was right. Britannia got viciously attached to its princes and princesses. They wouldn't stop until he was caught and eviscerated. She was... well, she didn't give a damn about her aristocrat status, but the fact was that it would be a pretty impressive shield for her. Even if she were caught, she might not even end up with a criminal record. Ohgi and the others would be imprisoned. Zer... Lelouch would be executed in the most painful manner that came to mind. "... Right. I get it. So... why did you kill him, then, if that was going to screw you over so badly?"

"Because he was a monster, and he was my... responsibility." Lelouch looked pale for a moment, before he shook his head, ducking down to packing away his uniform. "I... would appreciate it if you did not pass on my identity."

Kallen moved over to the waiting room seats, carefully settling in and making sure the rusted thing didn't snap in half under her ass. "Why shouldn't I?"

"I want it to remain secret, if possible. I would like your friends in the resistance to focus on my actions, not my features." He looked back up at her, frowning. "... And the more people know, the greater the risk of it leaking. Nunnally will become a target of those who wish to control me. That is unacceptable."

... His little sister. Kallen held up her hands. "... Got it." She had issues with Britannians, but the girl was blind and crippled and as sweet as it came. "Don't really like it, but..."

Lelouch waved a hand. "Feel free to prepare some manner of message to your resistance friends to be deployed in the event of my betrayal or whatever. Just do make sure it does not go off without my betrayal, because I will not do so."

"... Are you telling me to blackmail you?"

"I can teach you how, if you'd like." Lelouch smirked up at her.

"... No thanks. I'll figure it out on my own." There was something wrong with this guy's head.

Aon glanced at Kallen. "... Well, Kallen? You are the Master. Your decision. Shall we work together with these two, against Britannia and against all comers for the Grail? Shall we fight them now? Something in between?" Her hand remained ready at her side - presumably to draw her... saber.

Oh. Right. King Arthur. That sword.

Lelouch himself tensed, hand slipping inside his uniform shirt, and Lancer held her own hand ready to draw her... lance? Presumably.

... Wow. One word and Kallen could set off a murder-brawl. It was downright frightening to realize just how much power she held right here. She shook her head. "Uh... what do you think, Aon?"

The blonde smiled faintly, and glanced at the other two. "I dislike something about that Lancer's face, and her personality seems somehow defective, but I detect no falsehood in their words." She bowed her head. "This Lelouch's will to fight Britannia is top-notch."

The dark-haired girl laughed off the insult, waving a hand. "You may look like Nero, but you're less loud and you hate the right people, so we're good."

Aon held up a finger. "I do have one concern, however." She glanced at Lelouch. "I am a King, Zero. No matter what kind of King, such a person can not and will not bow before another lord."

Lelouch shrugged, folding his briefcase closed and standing up. "I'm not asking you to bow, Saber Aon. Merely to cooperate. If you believe you can command better, I would be pleased to allow you the opportunity. It's tiring."

Aon frowned. "That raises the question, then. How do you intend to command? You spoke against terrorism, but what do you intend to do?"

"Guerilla warfare. Similar tactics, but against valid targets."

Aon pursed her lips. "I... do not much approve of that. I would much rather face them honourably."

Lelouch shook his head. "I would be glad to face them in a fair fight, but we certainly do not have the forces for that. Our grand army currently consists of five knightmares and assorted, largely untrained, resistance fighters. The result is apparent before we even begin."

Aon's eyes narrowed slightly. "You're lying."

Lelouch chuckled. "Yes. I am." He met Aon's gaze, eyes hard. "The idea of a 'fair fight' is morally objectionable to me. It proves nothing but who is stronger. We already know the answer to that. There is no moral quality to strength. It is already a world where the strong can take, and the weak are left no choice but to bow their head and accept it."

Kallen's mind flashed to the Kouzuki woman's pathetic smile.

Ignorant of her thoughts, Lelouch continued. "The strong already rule. I refuse to grant them moral authority as well." His eyes did not once waver from Aon's. "There is no 'fair' in a straight-up, to-the-front fight. Strength determines its victor - not honour, nor justice. There is no glory in such a thing. The closest thing to a 'fair' fight is one in which each side uses everything at their disposal. Because then, at least, it comes down to factors other than force against force."

Aon stood, frowning. "... I do not agree. Your way of leadership, of battle... it is alien to me." She exhaled heavily. "But you believe in it. Your honour may not be the same as mine, but it is just as vital to you. And there are enough points on which we can cooperate. But I will not be involved in anything dishonourable." She turned to Kallen. "No further issues, Master."

"I said call me Kallen," she snapped, halfway on reflex, standing up. And wait. Wouldn't Lelouch be an appropriate Master to take over for Kallen and get her out of thi... no. If Aon didn't suggest it, Kallen wouldn't. She was willing to work with Lelouch, but not hand over everything to him. She certainly didn't trust him that far yet. "... Okay. Let's do this." She stepped up to Lelouch, hand extended.

Of course, when it came to the Grail War, given his bit earlier she doubted she could count on a fair fight - but frankly, she'd deal with the 'we've won and need to sort things out afterward' issues when they came near to being relevant. Right now, getting to them was dubious enough.

Lelouch extended his own slim, long-fingered hand, and they shook, between the white and black Servants.

~~~I========>

Archer looked around the lab underneath Fuyuki University, frowning slightly. The place was cramped, filled with rounded reddish containment vessels of some sort. ... He wasn't a geek type like some of his old comrades had been. He had no idea what this Project CC was. Even with the research to analyze, it was just gobbledygook to him.

But it had to be related to what he was doing here. Especially with all the-

"Archer," Anya suddenly interrupted at his side, voice somehow... different. It was softer, gentler. But there was something colder than the Arctic wind behind it.

Archer blinked, glancing over at his Master. The way she stood was different too. Bolder. More confident - Anya didn't normally quite slouch, but there was something about the way she usually stood that lacked presence, as if even when your eyes were directly on her you might forget she was there - and that something was entirely gone. The usual blank, passionless look had given way to a gentle smile. "Anya?"

"Can you head out to deal with the Code-R people?" she began one of the longest speeches he'd heard from her. "I'll analyze the data in here."

He hid his frown, bowing slightly. "Of course, Master."

She didn't cut him off, simply turning towards one of the file folders and beginning to thumb through it. That was what confirmed it for him.

However, he was a sniper. He knew well the art of laying in hiding for your prey to expose itself. So he simply rose from his bow, and backed out of the room, casually reinforcing his ears as he did so.

He shut the door behind him, listening as 'Anya' ruffled around in the lab.

Problems atop problems... Even Goldilocks was here in town, roughing up the Tohsaka Manor. It was almost comforting to see that sneering, hair-gelled face. Sure, he hated the bastard, but it was a familiar problem, and Archer was basically one of the best-equipped Servants on the Throne for ripping the asshole a new one. Hopefully Rin's... grandmother? Grandfather? Whichever. Was fine.

Tactically, it was probably best to let Goldie blunder around town beating on the other Servants - Archer knew he could deal with him, but didn't quite know the same thing about his other rivals this week. He was in a position to know he was the ticket to victory in the Fifth War, but this one, he knew nothing about.

Of course, victory wasn't the objective. The specifics of Archer's job freaking sucked, but even knowing where his borrowed ideals led, he still couldn't just stand by and let evil shit happen. And that meant finding some way to save the world. And he didn't quite know what the hell the threat was in the first place - he knew what it should be, but everything was all... strange.

This world and Project CC had to have something to do with it. His Grail information access appeared to have a familiar voice hijacking the feed. It was the First to take on the crappy-ass job he himself had right now, his tactical direction when he was deployed... This was the First's timeline of origin, he could surmise from the information he had thus far received, but he had no idea what the hell the bastard was trying to do. His data feed indicated the First hadn't intervened on any of his other summons for the Holy Grail War. This one was special somehow.

... How had the First even had him summoned? He'd been getting along well enough with Anya that he thought it was personal compatibility at first, but it seemed to play so well into whatever the First's plan was that the fucker had to have arranged it somehow. Had he used the Counter Force's low-end manipulation to screw up her life badly enough that she'd summon Archer off personal compatibility? How far in advance had he planned this?

Archer sighed, shaking his head. The First was almost always ten steps ahead. At this point, he couldn't even know if his suspicions were playing into the bastard's hands in the first place.

He accessed the Grail for information on Anya Alstreim, and that certainly confirmed his theories about everything being all boned to hell. Normally, accessing the Grail for information on a specific person would give you nothing. Now, as a Knight of the Round, Anya was a semi-public figure, so he should get a decent bit, broadly analogous to a wikipedia page - and he did get that much, which he already knew. But there were sections with far more detail - except the detail was scrambled, indecipherable, and interspersed with commentary from the First.

... The First was trying to feed him the information, but something was stopping the flow. Either of those was extremely abnormal, but both was... more or less standard for this summoning.

"Excuse me... Mister Archer?" the man's voice boomed into his reinforced ears.

Archer winced, toning down the reinforcement and looking up. He'd have to get rid of this guy so he could listen in on 'Anya' again. "Yeah?"

One of the Code-R researchers, in their half-militaresque gray uniform - a man in roughly his mid-fourties, with high forehead, styled brown hair, and a nametag identifying him as Joseph Fenette. "Um... I just wanted to say, we had no idea the Emperor would disapprove of this research... I... believe Prince Clovis simply wanted to present it to his father as a completed achievement."

Archer held up his hands. "I honestly don't know. I'm a shroom, kept in the dark and fed shit. Haliburton's the one you want to talk to." The Special Intelligence kid had brought Archer and Anya in to take over the Code-R facility after their meeting, but... well, Anya and Archer were just muscle. This was the SIS's game.

Probably wouldn't be too long before the two of them were loosed to tangle with the Servants. Which, on its own, would get... interesting, if that theory was solid and one of the Servants was fighting with the rebels/terrorists/whatevers. When the real world got involved with the moonlit world of the magi, things got messy. Though which got messed up more was open to debate.

Fenette nodded. "I... see. Um... do you know what's going to happen to us?"

Archer shrugged. "Haliburton was saying something about shipping you off to continue your research somewhere more useful. I really couldn't tell you where."

"Mm... I hope it's somewhere in Area Eleven. My family's been dragged all over the map because of my work..." Fenette shook his head.

Archer looked at him flatly. "You know, I have no idea why you decided to commiserate with me. I have work to do." It was a bit rude, but he needed to listen in while he had the opportunity. Anya was higher priority than Fenette's home life.

Fenette chuckled nervously, nodding. "Fair enough. I'll, uh, leave you to it. Sorry." The researcher slipped off, sighing.

Archer leaned back against the wall next to the door, bringing his reinforcement back up.

"... really have been treating you roughly, haven't they, CC?" Anya's voice came, an unfamiliar note of laughter in the words. "I'm not surprised you ran off, though why did you go there?"

There was a pause, as if someone inaudible were responding.

"... he? Who?" Anya sounded outright befuddled by whatever the response had been.

Though Archer might just have a guess on who 'he' was.

"... What happened to you, CC?" Befuddlement had given way to outright disturbed.

Another pause for response.

"Overcomplicating...?" Back to confusion.

The pause here, as whoever she was speaking to explained, was longer.

"And that's why the Ragnarok Connection... we need you to assure it will work, 100%, CC. And then we can complete our contract." She sounded almost desperate.

Archer could actually hear Anya's small body shivering. She didn't speak further, simply rustling around in the room a bit more.

Then he could hear her footsteps approaching, moving towards the door. He dialled down the reinforcement as she got closer, and as the door opened and she began stepping out, he asked, "So 'Project CC' is a person?"

'Anya' hissed in a breath, and turned to him, candy-floss pink hair bobbing as she moved. She chuckled. "Eavesdropping on your Master is a bad habit, Archer."

"You're not my Master," Archer pointed out the obvious. "I've never spoken to you before in my life. ... Or, current summoning. Whichever."

"Tch." 'Anya's' brow furrowed in a gesture that was childish enough to match her young age - but that Anya had never once made in the time Archer had known her. "I'm still your Master, Archer."

Archer's smirk was as insufferable as he could make it - which was no low level of insufferable. "Why don't you prove it with the Command Seal?" If he was right... Command Seals were engraved on the magic circuits of the Master. They were bound to the soul. Which meant...

'Anya' glared at him. "I thought you said the Command Seal was a precious resource, and the Master and Servant should resolve issues through discussion."

Archer nodded agreeably. "And when I'm talking to my Master, we will."

Anya growled, stomping her foot. "You will obey my orders, Archer!" The tone of command in her voice... oh yes, she'd tried to give an order off the Command Seal.

But the red sword tattoo on her upper left arm remained silent and still.

Archer's smirk widened. "Sucker." He'd never claimed to be a very good sniper.

Her gaze lowered, carmine eyes still glaring tightly at him. Oh yes, whatever it was possessing Anya was not pleased.

And then Anya blinked, looking around wildly. "Wh-?! Where am I... Archer?" She looked up at him, eyes slightly wide, and body language truly Anya again. "What did I do? What happened?" The worst part of it was... she didn't sound angry, or even slightly surprised. She sounded resigned. This happened a lot.

Archer pursed his lips. "... I don't honestly know. Your personality... shifted, and you mostly babbled about random terms." He wanted to tell her his suspicions, but the 'other' Anya... she knew what he'd said to this one. If he was going to deal with her, he'd need to keep her in the dark on what little he did know.

She nodded, looking down. "... happens sometimes. I black out. I have no idea what I do... when this happens."

Archer put on a grin, leaning down to ruffle her hair. It was a sign of how disturbed she was that she hadn't stomped on his foot the instant his hand touched. "Nothing bad this time. I'll keep an eye on you, and I'll tell you what we do. Shouldn't be too hard to wish on the Grail to fix a mental disorder." The corrupted Grail could only grant wishes by destruction - he knew that. But, as long as he figured out how to compensate for this 'CC' variable, 'destruction' was just fine for clearing out this parasite on his tough little Master's mind.

She glared up at him. "Implying something?"

Archer's grin was less forced now as he pulled back, just a short while before she'd grabbed his extended arm and done something painful with it. "Why, not at all, Mast-oof-Anya," he corrected himself as her elbow slid into his gut.

She stepped back, brow furrowed in thought. "Archer. You do the talking."

He cocked his head.

"... Keep the Forces away from Zero. Servant."

Archer nodded. If Zero did have a Servant, and was a magus, he had a capability the Britannian Forces could not counter. If they went after him, if he had half a brain - and the tactics, even assuming he had a Servant, or was a Servant, were well above half a brain - then he would simply kill anything that came near.

Archer bowed his head, hand over his heart. "Absolutely, Anya." He was making it as photogenic as possible, because he knew she'd-

Yup. Out came that camera.

~~~I========>

Lelouch mopped his forehead, sighing. He'd like to claim to have contributed to moving all the tables, and he and Kokoro had... technically.

More honestly, less technically, Lancer, Stadtfelt, and Aon had done about 90% of it while he and Kokoro moved two tables and their associated chairs to the outer edges of the ballroom.

Kallen, for her part, planted her hands on her hips, looking around the room. "I still say this student council event building is freaking ridiculous, and it's even more ridiculous that you live here, but whatever. So, you were saying something about training?"

Lelouch nodded. "Though I may be more a student than a teacher. The more skilled you are, the more useful you'll be, and at least a basic grasp of magecraft is apparently required for your Servant to reach full effectiveness." Really, he didn't get Britannia. Keeping the people under you happy and taken care of was the best way to assure loyalty and effectiveness. Good was not merely morally comfortable, it was practical. "Lancer wanted to get started on combat training tonight, so we'll do the next magecraft lesson tomorrow morning - we'll arrange a meeting spot later."

Kallen hummed, glancing over at Aon. "You were offering to teach me - you okay with this? Want to join in?"

The small blonde held up her hands with a self-deprecating smile. "As I said, I never learned, so I can't really teach. I figured it out for myself, my teaching would boil down to hitting you until you start figuring it out for your self."

"Let's try to avoid that," Lelouch dryly noted.

Aon nodded. "So for tonight, at least, I will just watch, and see what Lancer does. Who knows, I may learn something myself, from a more systematized approach."

"Ah, now you're giving me performance anxiety, Saber," Lancer chuckled. "Anyway, for now we'll focus on unarmed, maybe dip into dagger. Sword... mm, maybe later, if we have the fundamentals down."

Kallen blinked. "Er... wait, aren't you the lance class? Shouldn't Aon do the sword teaching?"

Aon smiled faintly, shaking her head. "It would take a true fool to only learn one weapon. Unarmed is the foundation - the knight is the weapon. What you have in your hands is window dressing. Now, my fame is most associated with the sword, and I prefer it, but that is hardly the sum total." She started ticking off fingers. "I inherited a Noble Phantasm lance I was quite good with, a couple of daggers... I knew my way around a bow, of course, though I highly doubt I did well enough with it to be considered an Archer. Even so, a knight uses the weapon appropriate to the situation, not the weapon appropriate to her personal preferences."

Lancer grinned. "Point is, if you can't pick up a random object and start beating in heads with it, you're still a rookie." She held up a finger. "So. To the headbeating. Gather 'round, everyone."

"What a comforting introduction," Lelouch noted, obligatorily shuffling up a pace or two - he was already more or less 'around'. Aon, Kallen and Kokoro settled into a loose circle with him, and all attention directed at Lancer. ... Looked like he had his own Knights of the Round.

Lancer looked around the group. "Call this a matter of form, but follow along as best you can. It's a thing about establishing the right spirit." She sketched an unusual salute, right hand pointing straight up and palm facing directly between her eyes, moving out to the right side of the head with the palm still facing inward, snapping down to point off to the left and rest over her heart, and then finally extended forward. She then stepped forward.

Lelouch took a moment to recognize it, even knowing what he was looking for - it was an old form of Britannian salute, in the historical texts it was always depicted as being done with swords - but could follow along without too much difficulty.

Aon was ahead of him, running through the gesture with an easy familiarity born of long experience - which meant she was either Britannian, or from one of the nations that had borrowed some of their customs. ... Perhaps Guinevere? The name meant 'white', but it could potentially be extended to blond? And her key colour appeared to be... Wait, no, she'd said king, a ruler in her own right. Mm, back to the drawing board.

Kallen and Kokoro were the furthest behind, due, clearly, to a complete lack of familiarity with the gesture, but eventually caught up, making the step forward to conclude.

All five of them ended with their hands atop one another's as they stepped together, the soft coolness reminding Lelouch quite suddenly that he was a young man surrounded by four exceptionally attractive young women.

Lancer stepped back, and the other four did the same - the only ones not blushing being Lancer, Aon, and Lelouch (and Lelouch solely because he'd mastered the art of faking expressions).

Lancer clapped her hands together. "So, opening remarks. Everyone, what do you use to fight? Discounting weapons, since we were just over this - what part of yourself do you use? Go ahead and blurt it out. Even you, Aon, I'm interested in what you have to say."

"Heart and spirit," Kallen answered, instantly, slamming her fist into her palm.

Aon nodded. "I am unsure if I would put it that way, but when it comes to a fight, matters of skill being equal, it is your will you match against your foe. If you do not have the courage to act, then nothing else matters." As expected from an honour-first swordswoman.

Kokoro looked like she had something to say, but she didn't speak until Lancer indicated her. "Er... isn't it... your body?" She looked down, shifting back a pace.

"I would imagine so..." Lelouch noted. "Matters of philosophy aside, you need something to work with." It was why he rather doubted he'd be any good at this. He certainly wasn't going to be plucking his heart out and throwing it at Britannia... except possibly as a component to some strange form of spell.

Lancer nodded, humming. "Interesting. You noting what I am, Aon?"

The blonde nodded as well, folding her arms. "My Master highlighted what she possessed. Yours highlighted what he lacked."

"Yup." Lancer turned back to the students. "Now, what you answer with, well. It can't be right, because you haven't even started learning. But what it does is tell me about you." She nodded to Kallen and Aon. "Yours was a good answer. It's not my answer, but the fact that another Heroic Spirit opts for it should tell you enough about its quality." She pursed her lips, turning to Lelouch and Kokoro. "Now... you two, I'm going to be honest. That was the worst possible answer. But what it tells me from you two is that you're the kind of people whose real answer is the one I'm going to teach."

"Well, don't keep us in suspense." Lelouch wasn't really surprised about getting it wrong, so his chastening was only mild. Frankly, more than anything, he was curious what she was getting at - if he could be an effective combatant even with his physically pathetic state, well now...

Lancer brought her hand up to the first step of that old salute she'd opened with. "Eyes." She moved her hand to rest beside her temple. "Brain." She brought it down to over the heart. "And heart, of course." She lowered her hand. "All of these are important, and don't get that wrong. You will not be effective if you lack in any one of these. But they're interconnected, and the way I work, so the way you'll have to learn - the brain comes first." She held up a finger. "Don't get me wrong. You want to be physically fit, because you can fight longer, deliver faster, and if you get into the superhuman range, do some pretty ridiculous things." She shook her head. "But fundamentally, physical fitness is a compensation for imperfect technique. And technique is a matter of body mechanics, physics, and planning, with a nice little dose of trickery."

"To complete the set," Aon noted, "the eyes are to see the opportunities to act, correct? As I said, this was never explained to me. But I do recognize the applications of the root concepts she brings up."

Lancer nodded. "Bingo. And we simply don't have the time to train fitness to any noteworthy degree. I will expect certain parties to keep it up even after the Grail War, mind you." Her gaze was fixed on Lelouch. "At least jog or spar, seriously..."

Aon held up a hand. "I do not mean to interrupt much more. But you should note that she is speaking in terms of people who are in similar orders of magnitude of capacity." She bowed her head. "Reinforced warriors and casters - including those who became Heroic Spirits - field order-of-magnitudes different strength from what a normal human can put out. Do not think this will prepare any of you for fighting a Servant - their fitness tends to be spectacular, and while you can reinforce up to that level if you are very good at it, they will also have technique, and much more intensively trained than you. Even if they cannot simply power through the most perfectly-executed technique."

Lancer smirked, folding her arms across her chest. "I don't know about anyone who can power through a perfectly-executed technique..." She glanced to the students again. "That said, you won't be performing perfectly-executed techniques for a long time yet. Even I can't always pull them off against a good opponent. She's right, this instruction is aimed at fighting soldiers and Masters. Any Britannian knight will be better-trained than you, but you can make up some of that difference through the spellcraft Kokoro's teaching. Most Masters will be better with spellcraft, but if you can get close enough to exercise what we're teaching, it becomes possible." She looked each of them in the eyes, individually. "If you're up against a Servant, you're in trouble. Defend yourself, open up an escape route, and withdraw as quickly as you can."

Lelouch hummed, cupping his chin. He, personally, might consider using himself as a lure too. That very weakness and difference in capacity would make him a very inviting target. He could perhaps get somewhere by cheating madly, especially with traps and support. Still not preferable, of course, and he certainly didn't much like his odds against a Servant as comfortable as playing dirty as he was. Or any, really, at this point. He was sort of operating off the assumption that him trying to defend himself actually would keep him alive three seconds against a Servant.

Lancer stepped out of the circle. "Okay. Time to actually teach now. I'm going to cheat and teach you about 90% of this art in one sentence." She held up a hand. "Your speed is in your hands. And your force is in your feet. Keep them working in unison."

"That was three sentences," Aon pointed out.

"That was shut up," Lancer replied, eloquently. "Aon, get up here and be my stronger training dummy. I need to demonstrate."

"Ah, such fun." Aon stepped into the middle of the circle, Lelouch and the girls pulling apart to give them some more space.

Lancer stepped up to her, extending her arm. "Now, Aon is stronger than me, so let's go arm-to-arm."

Aon chuckled, bringing up her own arm and pressing her hand against Lancer's.

At first, it looked reasonably even, but then Lancer's arm began shaking, buckling under the force. She stepped back, looking around the students. "So, you can all see Aon's strength compared to mine, right? As a side note, don't do that. Even if you win a match of muscle-on-muscle, you're tired out. If you get into that, you've already lost, because if this were a real fight, Aon and I would have been using that as a distraction for our real move. Know what you're going to do, and make it something quick and easy. Plan it out, don't just move around without something in mind. There's always something unbelievably easy you can do to hurt someone - this is what I mean, the brain is the core." She glanced at Aon. "You probably know the next step, but. Feel free to use both hands, but don't use your feet." She extended her arm again.

Aon chuckled, laying both hands on Lancer's. "I should clarify for the audience that I am not just letting this happen, but there is-"

Lancer took a single step forward, and Aon toppled backward, arresting her fall by the simple expedient of holding onto the black-haired girl's extended arm.

"-very little I can do with just my arms," Aon concluded. "The muscles are rather small, even reinforced. Lancer pitted her entire body against them."

Lancer hauled her back up. "On the other hand, hands are fast." Her hand darted out to Aon's face, though Aon brought her arm up in time to block. "If you're in close distance, you can strike with insane speed - and if you have a weapon in hand, you don't really need a whole lot of force."

Aon nodded. "As you can see, it's possible to block. Though Lancer came in fairly slow."

"But don't get into this," Lancer continued. "It's not as bad as muscle-on-muscle, but you're pitting your speed against your opponent's, and you're moving after he does - and he could be faster to begin with. Even if you win the speed match, you then get into the matter of hand-eye coordination. Don't get me wrong, hand-eye coordination can be incredible, instinct is very powerful. But it's like trying to catch a bullet. If you miss, you die." She stepped back, nodding. "So the first extension of hand-and-foot is this - distance. If you can get to your opponent and strike with one step, you are in distance to work with. You may step and strike, or you may let your opponent step and strike - because you only need to move your hand, so you can do it faster."

Kokoro held up a hand. "So... don't get in closer?"

Lancer shook her head. "No, get in closer, but understand that that's the danger zone. If you're in striking distance, keep your hands on their arms - then the speed and reflexes questions don't matter so much, because if they strike, you've already done the difficult parts of a deflection, you just need to push. Or, of course, you can always have your weapon embedded in your opponent. I'm a fan of that one too." She took another step back, and then another. "And if I have to take two steps to engage, I'm out of distance. Keep an eye on me, but I'm not in the fight. The first step is long enough to start paying attention, and the second step gives you the usual reaction time. Out of distance: You can defend. One step: You can defend or attack. Striking distance: You must attack." She clapped her hands together, eliciting a bit of a jump from Lelouch and Kallen. "Theory part's almost done for now. I wanted to touch on that, but today's lesson is going to focus on the other half - power."

Lelouch's eyes slowly widened. "... this is why you asked-"

"If you could dance. Yes." Lancer grinned. "Your power comes not from muscle, but from working your entire body as a unit. Posture and footwork. Grace is the key, smooth and thoughtless but always moving with power. You can develop muscle, and reinforce, and that always helps - but first, you need to learn to use what's there, or you'll never have enough. There's an old saying - learn techniques that work for an old, arthritic woman, because your goal is to survive long enough to become one. ... Substitute 'old man' as appropriate and suits your preference."

Kallen hummed. "So this 'reinforce', what is it? You've constantly dropped that term."

"A magical technique," Kokoro replied. "Physical enhancement. It's the first part the magical lessons will be covering, because it's one of the easiest and most foundational spells." She glanced at Lelouch with a frown. "... Don't expect to be enhancing your body very soon, though. Reinforcement on living tissue is very dangerous, though Lelouch seems to have an uncanny affinity for the whole thing..."

"Oooooh?" Kallen glanced askance at Lelouch herself. "He doesn't look all that strong. Then again, if magic gives him the muscle, that long skinny noodle frame has a lot of leverage, and not much weight to slow it down..." She seemed to go into a short fugue, presumably imagining the possibilities spellcraft brought to her vocation of violence.

Hm. That might actually explain why so many Heroic Spirits - out of his admittedly limited selection of samples - were small. Or rather, compact.

Lancer nodded. "We'll touch on leverage once we actually start moving up and learning hurting. Footwork and stance is what we're going to be working on today, because you'll need to do everything with these two in place. If you don't have balance, you can't do anything until you get it - so just keep it in the first place." She smirked at Lelouch. "This is just another dance, the only difference is your partner walks away with broken limbs."

Well now. Lelouch was honestly curious whether this might actually work. It would certainly be a useful addition to his collection of dances, if it worked like that. ... It really had been too long since he'd had opportunity. He'd enjoyed it, but ever since his mother died, he'd never seemed to have the time...

Perhaps he should thank Lancer for dragging him into this after all. It would be nice to get back into the habit. And of course, the skill had its own uses even aside from enjoyability.

Kallen held up her hands crossed in a T gesture. "Just a second. Before that. We were talking about magic and stuff. Does that include fucking around with peoples' heads?" There was a dark expression on her face.

Kokoro frowned slightly, meeting Lelouch's gaze for a moment.

It took him a moment to realize she was asking his permission - at which point he nodded. "Go ahead with the truth." Not much point hiding something as intuitive as that - and no capacity to hide it if Lancer ever found need to show off her glamour.

Kokoro nodded to Kallen. "Yes. Mental interference is possible."

Kallen took a slow, deep breath, laying a hand on a pink pouch at her waist, and eyeing Aon. "You know what happened in Fuyuki. What you don't know is that the Britannians only knew we were there with the stolen gas-or-whatever-the-fuck-it-was capsule because of an insane chain of events. We ran into a Britannian general's transport. And we only ran into that transport because we - me and the driver - were affected by the sudden, insane urge to go away from our intended egress route." She stepped back a pace, away from the other four. "So..."

Lelouch pursed his lips, frowning. "You are asking if we did it."

Kallen nodded.

Lelouch shook his head. "I couldn't have. I didn't know a single thing about magecraft at that point. I do not know if you saw us, but remember when your transport fell on its side? You almost ran over us. That was where I met Kokoro for the first time."

Kallen's eyes narrowed for a moment, before widening. "... Holy shit, I do remember you. The two of you and Rivalz. Er... sorry about that, by the way. The whole almost stepping on you thing."

Lelouch shrugged. "At that point, you were under attack and striving to survive. I can hardly hold blame for that - it was the Britannian Forces that chose to fire on you in a crowded city." An argument could be made that they should have taken better precautions, but aside from being staunchly undiplomatic, it was debatable to begin with - precautions against having your mind scrambled by magic were not exactly something to be expected out of any army. Perhaps backup plans, but it was a pointless tangent to go on when he only knew the broad strokes of the situation to begin with.

Kallen nodded, glancing at Kokoro. "And you?"

Kokoro frowned. "... I am capable of a limited amount of mental interference magecraft, but I am not exceptional in its use. And I do not have the power for any kind of range. The best I can do is point-blank, face-to-face hypnotism."

"Lancer?" Aon queried.

Lancer held up her hands. "I didn't exist at that point. Lelouch only summoned me about two minutes before the massacre started."

Kallen hummed to herself. "So, what, it was someone else?"

Kokoro held up her hands. "I was not close enough to the effect to determine for myself, but it may have been someone using mental interference magecraft to keep civilians away from a Grail War battle. Shortly afterward, we ran into someone using a mental interference spell preventing notice while he shot at something, so..."

Lelouch blinked. Huh. He hadn't actually noticed that spell, just the EU-built railgun in the man's hands. He'd thought it had been one of the terrorists... if he was a spellcaster, though, he may be one of the Masters. Lelouch would need to get a hold of a sketch artist and see if he couldn't use those features to identify the man.

"Mm." Kallen nodded. "Okay. So that's what you say. Next question comes to 'How am I supposed to believe it?' I'm not going to say outright you're lying. But I don't have any reason to say outright that I buy it, either. You got anything for me?"

Lelouch chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm afraid I don't. I wish I did, but the fact is, you are correct. It comes down to whether or not you trust our words, and at this point, you lack a basis to do so." He nodded to Aon. "Aon's lie detector abilities mean she most likely believes it, correct?"

The blonde Servant nodded. "I was about to say so, yes."

Lelouch nodded again. "But your experience with her is similarly limited. So the only thing I have for you is this: Watch us. Obtain that basis by which to judge our words. As I said to your group - I won't ask you to trust me. I will only ask you to allow me the opportunity to prove myself."

Kallen narrowed her eyes. "... Sure. But whoever cast that spell - you or otherwise - is dead if I find them out."

Lancer chuckled. "And segueing back to the original topic: If you want to kill them, why not learn how?"

Well, that was probably the right tack to take. Simply demonstrate absolutely no concern that she would find them untrustworthy - because they wouldn't be.

~~~I========>

[Pale Wolf]

~~~I========>

Kotomine Risei sighed, running his hand along the walls of his house as he made his late-night circuit around the outside. This had basically become a habit for him over the last seven years - one last patrol, and check the wards to make sure they were secure. His family lived in the ghetto, and contrary to the talk of the rebels, there was no 'brotherhood of Japanese' - desperate situations were when people let the worst parts of themselves out to play.

Most did not, and he firmly believed that. He was quite sure that his work in the community decreased the number yet further. But there was no cause so perfect it didn't attract monsters, and everyone was at their most extreme out here in the ghetto, where nobody had enough to eat, and nobody enforced the laws. (Officially. In practice, that was a significant portion of his work in the community)

And being Christian made him stand out - gave him a touch of the 'foreign'. If there was anything Japan did not deal well with... well, there was more than one out here in the ghetto who believed (with varying correctness) that their failures in life were the fault of the invasion, and that the invasion had only succeeded because of 'traitors' who had embraced foreign ways - usually not so crude as to accuse them of actually conspiring with the invaders, but the usual line was 'weakened our great nation by touching the outside'.

After that time he'd come back to a vandalized house, almost everything torn apart, stolen, or scrawled on with such eloquent spray paint messages as 'Go home, quisling', he'd just given absolute thanks to God that his wife had been with him at the time. And he'd taken up much more intensive security precautions since.

His eyes narrowed fractionally. Someone had crossed the wards.

More accurately, a spellcaster had crossed the wards, with a frighteningly strong spirit alongside.

He held out a hand to the wards, indicating he was present, active, and aware, so they didn't need to go into full defensive mode and repel the intruder quite as quickly as if he weren't.

The next step was, of course, to go around and meet the guest. Hopefully this guest was as peaceful as Kururugi had been earlier this day - the fact that they were approaching by the front was probably a good sign.

Quickly enough, he came around the corner of the house, and blinked. The person there... well, he didn't know her, but he did recognize her. Her features and build took much more after her mother, but her colouration was pure Naota. Not to mention the red and black clothing - was that hereditary?

He chuckled, stepping up towards where she waited at the front door. "Takara-chan? It's been a long time... you didn't even come up to hip height last time I saw you."

The girl blinked, smiling. "I wasn't sure if you'd recognize me, Uncle Kotomine."

Risei waved a hand. "I didn't so much recognize you as your parents. You grew up a lot in the last seven years." He hummed, looking to her side. "So that thing at your side... Servant? It should have been another thirty or fourty years until the next Grail War." His own sensitivity was of course not up to perceiving a Servant, but his wards could do it - Servants hadn't been a particular concern when he was making the wards, but they were part of the general spiritual categories he'd built for, just to be complete.

Takara nodded. "Yes... is it safe?" In other words, 'would anyone see?'

"Go ahead. I'd like to see who my friend's daughter teamed up with, and my wife is familiar with the broad strokes. No one else is nearby other than my newborn son."

Takara snapped her fingers. "Berserker, want to introduce yourself?"

The form quickly coalesced, bare feet thumping against the street outside his door as the figure landed. He was quite a tall man - easily over two meters. Not a giant, but a big guy, muscled to match, and looking even larger next to Takara's thin frame. His skin was very pale, almost gray, and most of it was exposed, other than a limited array of plates on calves, left forearm, and around his midsection. Thinning corn-yellow hair, but still reasonably long, tied back into a short ponytail.

The Servant bowed his head. "Greetings, Kotomine Risei," he intoned.

Risei hummed to himself. "Berserker. Only class I didn't see in the insanity last time. It's a pleasure to meet you." He bowed to the tall man, who returned it smoothly with the Grail's information on local customs. He stepped back, eyeing Takara slightly. "Now, the fact that you're here while the Grail War's in session... I would presume this isn't just a social call." Considering the reports coming out of Fuyuki, it was really no surprise the Grail War was off the rails already.

Again. Did they ever go according to plan? The last War had gotten to the point of landmines in the streets and duels under the Pacific War's bombing runs... It had been bad enough the Association had willingly gone to the Geass Directorate for an uninvolved moderator - Risei did not envy the poor bastard they'd saddled with the job.

Takara nodded. "Yeah... I planned to drop in to visit after the War, but..."

"Needed a favour? Well, let's step inside and discuss it..." He craned his neck back, looking up at Berserker. "... You ought to fit under the ceiling, though you'll need to do some squeezing to get in the doorway." Risei turned, opening the door, and stepping inside.

Takara slipped in behind him, and Berserker hunched over and half-slithered in.

Risei discarded his shoes as Takara pulled off her slippers, and he closed the door behind them, similarly 'closing' the wards. "Come on, it's been most of a decade since Sumire's seen you, and you haven't even met Kirei yet."

Of course, they were barely a doorway and five meters away from the main room where Risei's family was, so his wife certainly heard, and raised her voice to comment. "Most of a decade? Is it Naota?"

Risei chuckled, leading the way into the main room of the house - it was spare and threadbare as pretty much everything in the ghetto was, everything from the low table, to the knick-nacks laid about, to the (still-beautiful, he thought) middle-aged woman seated in the corner, but he damned well took care of all of it. "Takara, actually. She just dropped in, I didn't even know she was in the country." Naota wouldn't have come even for the Grail War - Japan had played the villain hard in the First Pacific War when they were both just old enough to really start looking at the world, and Naota had never been shy about the disgust his homeland had engendered in him with its massacres and... iniquities. He'd practically been giggling when he jumped ship for Milan.

Sumire looked up as the young girl stepped in after him, face lighting up - though she remembered as she was starting to stand up that she was holding a sleeping baby, and returned to her seat before he woke up and started squalling again. "Wow, Takara-chan. You didn't even reach my knee last time. You've grown so much prettier."

Takara flushed. "Ah... um... th..."

Sumire giggled. "Get over here and say hello to Kirei."

Berserker, manifestly ignored, stepped in.

Takara tentatively stepped over to Sumire's chair in the corner, looking at the sleeping child. "He really is..." She trailed off, cheeks slightly red - she was about to say 'kirei', in its function as the word for 'pretty' rather than its function as a name, wasn't she?

"Isn't he?" Sumire held out her arms, showing the child a bit more closely. Kirei really was a handsome baby - the baby fat was already receding to show his strong jawbones, the beginnings of a rich, dark brown mop of hair were beginning to set in... he'd be a heartbreaker, all right.

Takara smiled, extending her hand. "May I...?" At Sumire's nod, Takara reached out to stroke Kirei's hair.

Kirei's eyes blinked open, and he looked at the hand, eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

Takara stopped, of course, holding her hand in place and waiting for a sign of approval or rejection from Kirei - a good reflex.

Kirei, for his part, apparently came to a decision, head darting forward, jaws clamping down on Takara's index finger. He brought his little hands up to hold his makeshift pacifier in place, and then closed his eyes again, to sleep the sleep of the victorious.

"... He's going to grow up to be a total brat," Takara noted, voice flat, but a half-smile on her face.

"Isn't he?" Sumire repeated, half-giggling.

Takara gave a halfhearted tug, but her finger appeared stuck in Kirei's trap. "So... um. I don't really know how to say this, but I need to get in touch with Zero."

Risei could feel his face twist strangely to accommodate his new bug-eyed expression. "... The most famous new rebel face? Takara..." He hoped she hadn't gotten caught up with the terrorists... he didn't much mind their objectives, but their methods...

Takara held up her un-pinned hand. "I doubt you'd know where he is yourself, but I do need to establish contacts with the resistance."

Sumire pursed her lips. "... Couldn't that wait until after the Grail War? Should you really be pursuing so many different things at once?"

"She intended to wait," Berserker rumbled. "But we believe Zero is a Master in the War."

Risei's face didn't pale. Really. The fact that the two most brutal, nasty types of people he knew of - magi and the liberation terrorists - might be embodied together in the same man didn't have him at all concerned.

Takara frowned slightly. "We obviously haven't confirmed yet, but Berserker engaged a black Servant with a trident outside the Britannian command unit, while it was under attack. Considering Zero came on the airwaves and claimed responsibility for destroying the command..."

Risei dismissed his first wild thought. No matter how dangerous the combination of magus and terrorist was, he couldn't possibly be bad enough to have summoned Satan, black and trident notwithstanding. "So it's a possible lead towards a Master... what are you planning to do from there?"

Takara shook her head. "To be honest, at that point it's up to him. We could fight it out and scratch the loser off our tally, or we could work together for a while. We were at least in agreement that the massacre in Fuyuki had to stop. Anything beyond that... I really can't know without talking to him."

Risei took a slow breath. "... Looks like you're not going to be able to avoid the military, then, one way or the other." She was way too young to get involved in all this... too innocent. If the terrorists got a hold of her, she could get manipulated into...

"Hey, Takara-chan," Sumire interrupted. "What would your wish be? If you won."

Takara blinked. "Um... to be honest, I haven't really come to a conclusion. I mean, I've thought about it, but it's... well, it's a life-changing sort of huge decision." She shrugged. "I've considered wishing for Japanese independence, asking if Berserker wanted to really be alive again, a lifetime supply of cotton candy... that last one not actually seriously. But there are so many possibilities it's hard to choose, and I really can't even start entertaining them until we win anyway... I've sort of been putting it off."

Berserker glanced at her in surprise. "Asking if I...?"

Takara looked down at the floor, shrugging. "... well... if we win, you were at least as much a part of it as me... I don't know what exactly you'd want, but you deserve at least part of the prize."

The large man chuckled. "Well, now I will have to think about it somewhat. Excellent work, Master - when the problem is too difficult, leave some of it to me."

Takara flushed. "That wasn't..." She trailed off, recognizing the teasing for what it was. She gave a halfhearted tug at her hand, but Kirei didn't let go of the grip his teeth had on her finger, even in sleep.

Risei hummed. "Well. As far as your question goes, I'm not involved with the resistance. But I do have a sense of who to ask to get contacts. It would be a ways away from finding Zero, but it would be roughly on the path." He didn't much like any of these rebel groups, but this wasn't about them - it was about his old friend's daughter. One way or another, she'd need to get to Zero, if she was right about him being part of the Grail War. Better to be doing it on her own initiative than when he came looking for the Master of Berserker. And Risei would need to keep an eye on her - she was stepping into a shark pool.

"Ah... thank you, Uncle Kotomine!"

Risei chuckled. "Don't worry about it. Sumire, mind getting her settled in for the night, if Kirei lets her go? I need to go finish my rounds." Security had just gotten even more important.

~~~I========>

Nagata Tohru's palms were sweating again. No more time to switch places or back out. Now he just got to stare at the Sutherland's controls and the camera image projected from the front of the truck, listen to the comm line, and hope he didn't fuck up when things depended on him. Again.

It was an odd reversal to see Kallen in the truck's driver's seat and him in the knightmare nestled in the truck's cargo section, but she'd come in this morning with a massive fever, mumbling the word 'hate' repeatedly, so she wasn't up to providing the muscle support in case (when?) everything went wrong on this one. And with Kallen off, that, disturbingly, left Tohru as the top pilot of their resistance group, thanks to the live combat experience he'd picked up in Fuyuki.

And also the only member of the group other than Kallen and Ohgi who'd opted to join Zero on this first operation. It wasn't that he didn't understand their reluctance - they knew nothing about this guy. But... this guy was the only thing that had stood between Fuyuki and massacre. So Tohru would follow this rabbit hole and see where it led.

For now, it led to a carcharger station on the border of Saitama Prefecture. In particular, Zero had had them following a transport truck similar to their own, which, escorted by a troop transport in Britannian military colours, had docked in at this charging station ahead of them.

Kallen had brought their own transport up behind them, parking behind the Britannians while they occupied the charging stations. A few infantrymen surrounded the trucks as security while the recharge proceeded - Tohru was nervous enough, though they didn't seem to be on particularly high alert, their helmets were off, guns slung on the armstraps instead of in hand, and they were chatting quietly.

... Their features were Japanese. Honourary Britannians. Half of Tohru wanted to hate the quislings who'd sold out his homeland even more than the true Britannians... but the other half said they were his countrymen.

In front of Tohru's Sutherland, Zero pulled his cloak off, revealing the gray-armoured Britannian infantry uniform he wore underneath it - he'd already exchanged helmets and masks, like a damned sleight-of-hand trick, nobody had caught when he did it. "Ohgi. We disembark here." He moved to the back of the truck, rolling the door up a bit.

Ohgi, in his own masked infantry uniform, slipped out through the gap, Zero following.

Zero let the door drop, and continued on a low-powered radio channel. "Kallen. When I give the word, you are to drive the transport up the free side. The objective is to get in front of the forward transport, but it's fine even if you just scrape one of them." In other words, pin them up against the charging stations... "Nagata, if this goes well, there will be no need for you to sortie. If the troopers disembark from the transport after we have begun the operation, that is your signal to go and neutralize them - slash hakens and ramming the knightmare into them are preferable, but use the rifle if it is necessary. If that happens, clear the way for him to work, Kallen."

"Understood," the both of them snapped together.

"Um... What about the forward transport?" Tohru queried. Hadn't Zero said it was a load of high explosives they were stealing? Er, requisitioning. His 'intelligence officer' had apparently found the delivery time for them.

"If you deploy and its motion is not blocked off, catch it with a haken. Do not worry too much about damage to the transport - the explosives use electric triggers, you can set that truck on fire and none of it will go off. That said, avoid it if you can, because more damage means less explosives for our use."

"Got it." Tohru nodded. He really wasn't intimately familiar with this stuff, but he seemed to recall something along those lines... He'd still try to avoid it if he could, though. Even better if he never had to jump out at all.

The time passed, slow and tense. Tohru wasn't entirely sure why they weren't jumping the Britannians right now - it was a group of lightly-armed infantry against a knightmare - but this was Zero's plan, and the guy did have all the information that had led them to this in the first place.

It really was only a couple of minutes, anyway. It felt like forever, but the Sutherland's internal clock had barely even ticked before the troopers jerked their heads up, and filed back into the carrier. The transports must have finished replacing their batteries, so the perimeter guards were stepping back in to resume driving on.

Sure enough, a moment later, Zero's voice came over the comm. "Kallen, go."

"Right," she tersely replied, and Tohru felt the truck shudder slightly as it began moving underneath him. His fingers danced over the controls, carefully switching to different cameras so he had a view of what was going on as the truck slowly rolled up across the transports.

The rear camera was gold for now - he could see Zero and Ohgi, in their infantry uniforms, strolling up behind the resistance truck. Both their features were hidden, but he could still tell them apart on camera - Ohgi was a bit heavier-set, and Zero's stride was graceful, and fearlessly confident. Ohgi was a bit more nervous, though he seemed to be moving ahead.

Zero trailed behind for a moment, pulling a long, thick, rough-looking bar of some sort out of the pack at his shoulder and disappearing behind the personnel carrier. ... Wow, Tohru actually understood this part. The bar was a strapped-together kludge, but both ends were from those quick-weld patch kits you could pick up at hardware shops. He was just welding the fucking personnel door closed. Or at least, welding a door bar on to hold it shut.

It didn't take more than ten seconds before Zero popped back out from behind the carrier, calmly moving up after Ohgi and pulling a Britannian sidearm out of his pack.

Ohgi passed the personnel carrier's door, and Tohru could see him shiver a bit, even behind the armour, as he moved up across the rear of the cargo transport.

No surprise, the driver of the carrier was leaning out the window to yell at Kallen, and was now directing his yelling at Ohgi - Tohru couldn't hear the specifics from here in the truck, but it probably had something to do with 'what are you numbnuts doing, get back inside'.

Zero came up to the door before too long, bringing his left hand up to pull it open.

The driver half-collapsed as the door swung open under him, and turned around to cuss out Zero.

For his part, Zero calmly snapped his pistol up, and pulled the trigger, releasing a blossom of blood from the man's heart, and levered himself up into the truck's cabin - pushing the driver's body up to keep it from falling out. Once he was inside, it was a work of seconds to unbuckle the driver's seat belt, push him down and out of sight from outside, and take up position in the driver's seat himself.

If he hadn't been watching for the five seconds it took Zero to kill and replace the driver, Tohru wouldn't have even noticed. It was unlikely anyone did notice, the only sound those pistols made was a light 'clack'.

When Ohgi reached the door of the lead transport, it was much the same, though not quite as smooth - Ohgi's aim was a bit off, so he needed a few shots to actually do it, and there wasn't the seamless grace that Zero had had.

Still, with Kallen's truck up in front, even if anyone had been watching, they wouldn't have seen - the truck blocked the front and left side, the transport they were hitting in the first place blocked the view from the charging station's underpaid clerk, and Tohru was watching to the rear and saw no one.

"All right, Kallen, go back on the road," Zero spoke again. Not even a minute, and the hijack was already complete. "Ohgi, follow her. Point two." The primary post-mission rendezvous point Zero had pre-briefed them on - an old pre-invasion parking lot in the old Tokyo ghetto, where the less-interested members of the group waited to see how it went and offload the goods, not to mention changing the license plates. "Nagata, you are under Ohgi's command once more - remain on alert until he believes it safe."

"Got it," Kallen replied, as the truck rumbled ahead again. The transport full of now-stolen explosives, and the personnel carrier full of Honourary Britannians who probably hadn't even noticed the hijack, rolled out after it.

"Er... Zero." Ohgi queried, sounding a bit confused. "... Why are we kidnapping a squad of Britannian soldiers?"

Zero's rich voice came back in an amused chuckle. "To prevent the alarm from going out - the same reason we did not simply overwhelm with the knightmare. We do have potential escape routes if the soldiers, or the gas station clerk, report in the theft, but it is far more ideal to not be pursued at all. I will proceed via a different route and drop these men off elsewhere."

Tohru swallowed. "... Do you mean drive them into a lake?" Still wasn't really sure how to feel about fighting his countrymen in the first place, but killing them while they were helpless...

"I could," Zero admitted, as the three transports arrived on the highway. "Killing them is not to be feared - they are enemy combatants. But it is not the point of the exercise, either. It is a mere handful - their military impact is fairly minor, and their deaths are neither necessary nor especially beneficial. No, I will just drive them to a parking lot somewhere."

Tohru exhaled heavily. "... Got it." He supposed the issue was tabled for now, at least.

"I will meet you at point two. Zero out." The personnel carrier at the rear turned off at a nearby exit.

After some time, Ohgi spoke. "... That was unbelievably nerve-wracking, but... I think we were just schooled."

"Schooled?" Kallen asked, confusion plain in her voice.

Tohru sighed. "... I guess he was saying 'this is how you steal hazardous goods from the Britannian Forces'. There goes my ego." Even without the whole screwup involving genocide... thing, the difference between this operation and their gas theft was obvious. It had been a mission accomplished with two people - Kallen and Tohru had only been there to drive them there and as a backup - and it had gone off with minimal casualties even on the enemy side, no more than an hour of prior preparation required, and they'd just got away cleanly.

"... Let's go to comm silence," Ohgi proposed. "Someone could start listening in. We can discuss it all later. But... I don't think we'll achieve anywhere near the success without him as we could with him. ... Out."

Tohru shook his head, leaning back against the Sutherland's rather comfortable seat and flipping the comm line to the truck's internal channel. "... How did he even pull that off? Did he know which charger station they'd stop in on, or...?" Hell, how had he even known they'd need to recharge the truck's batteries? Tohru would have thought on a long haul transport of semisensitive cargo like explosives, they'd remember to leave with a full charge...

Kallen could be heard humming. "... Not really sure he did. He just had me follow and drive in behind them. I think it could have been any station. I know he had his intelligence chief," she snorted in some sort of amusement at the title, "go in this morning and sabotage all the transports at the factory, she mentioned it... I don't think he's really predicting so much as covering all his bases."

"Huh, mentioned it? You met more of Zero's group?"

"Ah!" Kallen jolted. She hadn't meant to let that slip... she was really bad at this. Then again, they all were. "Um, yeah. Back when we first met up with Zero, I split off from the main group to head home. Zero came around to talk separately with me, and I met some other members of his group. I didn't find out his identity, though!" She'd totally found out his identity.

Well, Tohru didn't honestly care all that much. Sure, a name and face would be great, but smooth relations with the freaky genius strategist who was angling for a rank as Japan's star of salvation were rather more important, and he didn't really feel like pressing Kallen on it. He would need to get around to reminding her on the whole 'secrecy' front, though. "Huh. So he has a group already."

"Small one," Kallen muttered. "Said he'd introduce the group to the rest whenever we decide to go all-in with him. Arrogant bastard used 'when', not 'if'..." her grumbling trailed off indecipherably.

Tohru chuckled. "That aside, why'd he meet you separately?" He supposed it might not be that weird, Kallen was the sister of the group's original leader, and was not only one of the sharpest members, but the one whose ethnicity might invite suspicions as to her loyalty...

"No reason!"

... Huh. If it had been suspicion, she'd have been pissed and grumbled about it. Anything else he could think of wouldn't be something to hide... Something was going on.

"... Hey, Nagata. About Fuyuki." Kallen, as usual, took the offensive.

Tohru closed his eyes, falling back into the Sutherland's seat. "... Do we have to? I know I screwed up. Ohgi's already read me the riot act."

Kallen licked her lips. "No... it wasn't your fault. I've run into something real weird. I can't really talk about it, but there's... a possibility that that impulse to drive off didn't come from you."

"... Holy shit, Kallen." Tohru's jaw dropped as he sorted through possible permutations of that sentence. "That's... are you saying the Britannians were working on some kind of mind control machine at the Fuyuki University?" He'd heard stories about bioelectric field manipulation and all sorts of similar conspiracy theories, but like any sane man, he'd had a laugh and ignored them. There was plenty of douchery on Britannia's part without inventing wonky stories that distracted from the real issues. But if they actually were...

"I really can't talk about it... it's... there are people who'll get even nastier on us if we know this kind of thing."

"Kallen, mind control isn't the kind of thing to keep quiet about!" 'People'? Was Zero part of some EU spy ring? But then why the mask? Didn't the EU have plenty of Japanese expatriates lying around? No need to use someone who couldn't look the part...

"I know!" Kallen barked, the truck jolting aside slightly as her attention wavered at the wheel. "I'm trying to keep an eye on it. And I'm setting up data dumps, if things go wrong you will know."

Tohru sighed, rubbing his eyes. "We really shouldn't be keeping all this crap from each other, Kallen..."

"... I know, Nagata. I'm sorry. I got dragged into the deep end too, I need to get all this garbage squared away. I think we just jumped into the big leagues, and I can't afford to make mistakes or we all die. It's just... I don't even have a clue what we're doing."

Tohru tsked. "Well. I could use any number of tired, cliche lines like 'trust your friends' and all. I really could, but you've heard 'em all, and spouted them a dozen more times. And I should be trusting mine. You know whatever it is you know - you're the one who has the information to make a judgment. So I'll trust your judgment. Just remember if you need to say it, we are here, and we will fall in behind you. Or beside, but practically speaking, you're the badass here." Always important to be realistic.

~~~I========>

Andreas Darlton stretched out languidly, boots stomping through the dunes of the Rub' al Khali desert. He gave thanks to the Emperor for the long riding boots of his uniform - if the sand reached over the brim of his boot, he might not ever get it out. This place clung to you.

Really, they were pretty much done. The Middle Eastern Federation had been swept away. All that was left was Wabar, the stubborn holdout in the middle of the world's largest desert. It'd been a good move on the MEF's part - Britannia couldn't use their usual high-mobile equipment with the sand bogging everything down, reducing them to stand-and-slug tactics that neither their training nor equipment were engineered for, while the MEF had spent the entire Industrial Age developing to work in this desert - but it was nothing more than a delaying action. They were cordoned within Wabar, unable to break out, and Cornelia's army had developed the means to defeat them even here in the heart of their strength.

Guilford had halfway flipped out on hearing they'd need to stay in this forsaken desert to crush that last bastion. Which was, of course, why Andreas was strolling away from the main encampment for some late night air. Anyway, they were ready to go tomorrow. Honestly, Andreas viewed it as an opportunity to learn new tricks, so he was almost thanking the Arabs for putting up a decent fight.

A short, deep-voiced yip came from up ahead in the darkness.

Andreas raised an eyebrow, striding ahead through the sand - he hadn't really expected it, but on evaluation, it was no surprise she was out here, staring ahead into the darkness at the (too far to actually see) walls of Wabar.

Sure enough, a slim, bare arm rose above one of the 'dunes' ahead, offering a short wave. The dune itself shifted slightly, a hint of pink showing in the thin light as the massive, bear-like dog's tongue lolled out in greeting.

Andreas chuckled, stepping up past the dog with a rough pat to its head, glancing down at the young woman leaning up against it - the dog was larger than her, though that was more due to the dog's immense size than her slender, short frame. "Keeping watch? We're not going until morning."

Farah Ansari smiled up at him from the long fan of waist-length golden hair (other than a black set of headphones almost perpetually worn, it was left to hang rather spectacularly free) shimmering against the dog's dark coat, where she was using his seated bulk as a pillow. That and the blue eyes were a product of the Britannian half of her heritage, though since he knew what to look for, certain details betrayed the Iranian half. Regardless of where the features came from, though, they were very, very nice. "Oh, I know. Still..." She brought up her left hand, wavering slightly. Past the usual black tattoo tracery at her wrist, the left elbow was wrapped in a white bandage - easily visible due to her somewhat-abbreviated yellow-white-black clothing.

Andreas frowned, folding his arms across his chest as he slid down to sit in the sand - screw his pants, he didn't have to clean them. "What happened to your arm?" She'd better not have been running an operation... the Princess might throw a fit.

Farah blinked, glancing down at it. "Ah. Don't worry. Minor accident."

"Mm-hm," Andreas mumbled agreeably, pulling a cigar out of his pocket. "I really should have got around to asking about this before, but-"

Farah's right hand reached out to the front of the cigarette, and she snapped her fingers. The cigar lit, bright and cheery.

Andreas snorted, bringing the cigar to his lips. "Seriously, how do you do that trick? Is there some incendiary in your nail polish or something?" He took a long drag, enjoying the narcotic.

Farah smirked slightly. "Maaaybe." She paused, and then held up a finger. "I wanted to ask, myself - is the Princess satisfied with your team using the equipment and tactics we developed?"

Andreas shrugged. "If it works, it works. You all have been fighting here in the MEF a hell of a lot longer than we have. You know the tricks, no point reinventing the wheel." Her Zhayedan had been downright spectacular, and no question there. If Iran hadn't had such an active resistance movement willing to open the door to the Middle Eastern Federation, Britannia's invasion of one of the former world superpowers across the Indian Ocean would never have proceeded this quickly. With Cornelia at the helm they'd probably have managed it still, but the local collaborators had made this incredibly easy. "I did tell her it was my idea, though. Hope you don't mind, doubt she'd have used it otherwise."

Farah waved a hand. "As you say, if it works, it works. As long as it is done, we do not need the credit. Like the final battle, for that matter - I would rather have fought it myself, but failing that..." She shrugged. "Shatter what remains of the Middle Eastern Federation in our stead. So shamefully that the idea of that flag being raised again becomes a joke told in every bar from India to Greece."

Andreas grinned. "No worries there. I was going to bring that up, myself. For what it's worth, I am sorry. Your boys have done a lot for us. The Princess doesn't like the idea of making Numbers bleed for us, though, so now that things are secure enough she can hold you back..."

The younger woman shook her head, smiling softly, yet... brilliantly. The sheer joy in the expression was almost blinding. "I don't even care about the credit... It's been one thousand, three hundred, and twenty-six years since they crushed us at al-Qadisiyyah. It's over. The nightmare is finally over. I... I can't even put it in words, but... you came. Someone finally came."

Andreas sighed, puffing his cigar a bit. "Apparently we tried to come back then... didn't quite make it all the way. So, sorry for the wait." It was ancient history - but that didn't make it irrelevant. Especially not when it still influenced the present. "You'll be Area 18, though. You're not independent."

Farah reached up to pat the dog's head. "We're used to chains, and we're used to waiting. Britannia's chains are lighter than the Caliphate's. And one day, your power will wane, leaving us free." She smiled up at him. "And on that day, we will still stand by your side. Because Britannia has been our truest friend."

Andreas couldn't suppress an irrational shiver. "You know, if you did that creepy long-view magus talk about Britannia's fall in front of Guilford or the Princess, you'd be in a lot of trouble, right?" It was weird using that term, too. 'Magus'. Intellectually, he knew it was the title of Zoroastrian clerics like Farah Ansari, but he was still sucked into the more widespread meaning of 'sorceror', however ridiculous the concept was.

"Of course. Thus why I say it to you." She shrugged. "Not to say it will be soon, or even within any of our lifetimes. But it will happen. Nothing lasts eternally. Persia ruled for a thousand years, but our time came. Then it was the Caliphate's ascendancy for another thousand years - and their time has now come as well. When Britannia's time comes, we will remember the kindness you have given us. We will not serve under you - we will serve at your side."

"Y'all are crazy," Andreas noted, taking another drag of his cigar, and reaching out to scratch the dog's head. "... And seriously." He glanced down at the segments of bare skin showed by her loose yellow-white-black uniform. "Aren't you cold in that? It's frigid out here at night, I'm getting a chill and I'm actually, you know, clad." Not that he was complaining, mind you.

She did that damn 'I know something hilarious and I'm not going to tell you' mysterious smile of hers again. "The fire of my faith warms me."

"And you're surprised I opt for atheism?" Andreas snorted. "Y'all are crazy," he repeated. He paused, face smoothing to seriousness. "Speaking of crazy. Your people aren't going to become a problem, now that we're using you to administrate the Area, are they?" It was a serious concern - as she'd said, they'd sucked up over a thousand years of abuse at the hands of the Arabs. If they started trying to get their own back now that they were on top, this place would dissolve into a hellhole.

Farah pursed her lips slightly. "... I do not have the power to answer that." Fair enough, she was just an elite military commander and high-rank priestess - it was as much as asking him about Britannian policy. "If I did, though. I would say that we have learned from the Caliphate how not to rule. We have our own traditions and history of rule to take pride in." She shook her head. "It would be pointless to shake off the long night if we merely put new markings on it and raise that flag of darkness once again." She sighed, looking up at him. "I know the Zhayedan stand against that evil. Against all evil. If it comes from our own, then they are not our own - they are a symptom of this cancer."

"Whoo. Harsh."

She nodded. "I have gone up Mount Damavand and met the devil face-to-face. ... And he was just another victim of what we call 'evil'. A convenient excuse to blame so we don't have to take responsibility for ourselves. Anyone taking reprisals is responsible for their own actions, and those actions will be stopped."

Andreas held up his hands. "Er..." He hoped she didn't go off onto some strange theological tangent. He didn't disagree with the philosophy, but talking about meeting mythological creatures in actual places went a liiiiittle far off the deep end for him.

Farah chuckled. "So where next, for the mighty General Darlton?"

Andreas snorted. "Assuming nothing goes horribly wrong tomorrow, Japan. The Princess hasn't told us yet, but, well, I've got my ears in various places. She's taking over as Governor-General. Within two days or so, most likely. We'll be going with her."

Farah nodded. "I heard about what happened to her brother. My condolences. I would offer them to her directly, but I doubt she would want them."

"Quite." Andreas cringed, imagining the scene. The Princess wasn't that great with the touchy-feely stuff to begin with, and getting it from a Number, half-Britannian or no... ew.

Farah pursed her lips, right hand lightly stroking the bandage over her left elbow. "There was some business we had to attend to in Japan, as well. I will offer our assistance if you feel you require it."

Andreas blinked, and then blinked again. "Business in Japan? What, some refugees you wanted to pick up?" That at least was the only reason he could think of.

She smiled sadly, looking down at the ground. "... One refugee. An important one. We need to find where he is, too."

He hummed, and nodded. Lover? Brother? Father? She was quite a bundle of mysteries, but he didn't really want to push it. They got along all right, but they weren't exactly the type of close friends who could discuss why one had that desolate look on their face. "Well, you're an Honourary, so you're free to make the trip. Using you, well, that's the Princess's call. Probably can't help you find your guy, either, I'm afraid."

Farah shook her head. "No... don't worry. I know where to start the search." The dog barked in agreement.

~~~I========>

Euphemia li Britannia sighed, striding through the blasted-out buildings and ruins.

"So... this is Fuyuki..." Her words felt like they were violating a sacred silence, so she shut her mouth, head turning to take in the sights.

... It was a ghost town. There were people here, but very, very few left - she'd only seen a somewhat antisocial white-haired boy as she stepped through, and he'd seen her and turned to walk in the other direction. And that was the sum total of human presence, as far as she'd seen.

There were some buildings still standing, but... more of it was rubble. Bullet-riddled, shattered by monumental force as if a knightmare had rammed into it... chunks of cement, plywood, scattered across the street.

And this... strange almost whispering in the air. She wasn't hearing anything - but she felt like if she strained, she would hear whispers and sobs. It was a really creepy place.

She'd been to graveyards before, she'd been to the graves of people she'd loved, but this... this was by far the most unsettling such place. But it still had that sadness. Wherever a wall stood high enough, or a fencepost, or even just a broken pipe, it was smothered with paper, roughly duct-taped on. Pictures of smiling faces and families. Names written in Japanese text. Longer epitaphs - poetry, last farewells. Candles. Bundled flowers. Wreaths. One of the markers had a few cheap cookies laid out at its foot. Another had a child's stuffed dinosaur. A few action figures, like Lelouch had played with...

This rubble, paper rudely taped on and gifts to the departed laid nearby, was the only memorial the Japanese could afford.

Euphemia felt her eyes itching, and rubbed at them. ... A lot of people had died here. She couldn't really still hear the screams, but... it felt like it.

She didn't even really know what had happened out here. Maybe that was part of why she'd snuck out to feel like crap - to see for herself. The official reports said the rebels had killed the population of this city. The rebels blamed it on Clovis. She wanted to pass it off as a ridiculous story - he was her brother, he couldn't possibly do something that horrific. But... she was all too familiar with the propaganda and lies of the royal court. Just because she didn't want to imagine a face she knew ordering atrocities... that didn't change the fact that someone she knew had ordered the death of Lady Marianne.

Whether she wanted to believe it or not had no impact on whether or not it was true. If Clovis were alive, she would ask him. She wouldn't - couldn't - take a dismissal. If her beloved brother had become something like that... she still had to know. Though she had no idea what knowing that would change.

She sighed, looking around the windy rubblescape, and walking towards the ruins of a nice, old house. She didn't really know what to feel about Zero, either. Cornelia was calling for his death in vengeance for Clovis. And Euphemia could see the point - she was angry too! But... Zero had his own reasons, didn't he? His own family, his own beloved... and if the stories about Clovis were true, he had acted to stop a massacre.

Even if Clovis was innocent and Zero was the monster - which Euphemia truly did want to believe - what would it solve to kill him? The Japanese terrorists had been going wild long before Zero showed up, and they would long after. ... Euphemia had asked to learn the basics of the military from Cornelia, but the training really was wasted on her, wasn't it? She must be a real idiot, because this all seemed far too complicated to resolve that easily...

"Ack!" Euphemia instinctively brought her finger up to her lips, sucking on it. She'd spaced out and cut herself on a torn scrap of metal. The bleeding wasn't too bad, but still, the red stained what must have been the floor of a house, seeping through the wooden boards and into the basement below.

In the future, don't think and walk at once, clearly she wasn't good at multitasking.

Then... then it started hurting. Not just her hand, but her whole body, cold, and painful, as if her veins had turned into icicles... crap, had it been infected?

She couldn't think of any infections that worked this fast, but... healthy people didn't hurt like this...

Euphemia half-choked, collapsing to her hands and knees. It felt like... her warmth was leaving. Like it was being sucked out through her ankles.

Above, the air darkened, clouds roiling together and thickening... Since Euphemia wasn't aware of any diseases or poisons that altered weather patterns, clearly, she was starting to hallucinate.

She let herself fall to the floorboards, because her hands had more important work to do - clawing for her cellphone.

She was out alone in a ghost town. If she lost consciousness, there would be no one helping her.

She really would die of this.

Where was it... where was it... it was hard to think...

The pain suddenly ended, as a bolt of lightning tore from the sky, landing mere meters in front of her, exploding the floor in a cloud of smoke.

Euphemia finally laid hands on her cellphone, hitting the emergency button, and tentatively pushing herself to her feet. She didn't even have lingering aches... the pain was just... all gone.

"Ahahahahahahahah!" a loud, raucous voice boomed, joyfully laughing. From within the smoke.

The man who spoke stepped through, prompting Euphemia to look 'up'. He was huge. He easily broke two meters, and every millimeter was solid. Tanned skin, a handful of scars, wild red hair and short beard, and he wore some form of dark, metallic, Iron Age armour, with a long, bright red cloak slung over his back. "So! You're my Master, then?" He smiled, bright and just as joyous as his laugh.

Euphemia had a perfectly appropriate, intellectual response to the situation. "... What."

It just wasn't coming to mind.

~~~I========>

It was late evening when Cornelia li Britannia landed in Tokyo, and while she had almost had her heart in her throat the entire time, she took pride in the fact that she had been able to keep her composure.

Her knights stood arrayed behind her in perfect order, and she did her duty as a member of the royal family - as a perfect, ideal model to look up to. Whether or not she matched up to that ideal, it was her duty as royalty to be that ideal for the people of Britannia.

Though she was permitted to say a bit, just the same, and as Euphie strode through the arrayed column of local officers, Cornelia prepared her words.

Euphie arrived in front of Cornelia's transport plane, and curtsied. "Welcome to Area Eleven."

"I heard about your little adventure, Euphemia," Cornelia noted. "You should not be doing reckless things." She'd wandered kilometers out of the settlement, into a ghetto where anti-Britannian propaganda was flying wild... it was a wonder she hadn't been mugged or worse. Cornelia would have words with the head of Euphemia's protection detail.

Euphie bowed her head, hands folding in her dress. Hm. She seemed to have taken up wearing gloves. "My apologies, sister, but..." she glanced to the side at some of the assembled officials.

"While we are here," Cornelia interrupted, holding up a hand. "Call me Governor-General. Vice-Governor-General Euphemia." It was an issue worth noting, but it was a bit minor. More importantly, Cornelia did not want to discuss that 'but' in public - royalty couldn't let their facade crack, let alone in front of the people who depended on that model human. So Euphie had to be interrupted. "That distinction is all the more important because we are actual siblings."

Euphie needed to learn that human frailties were not permitted of Princes and Princesses, before she got into the snakepit. Then again, part of Cornelia also lamented the day when Euphie really had learned that, and lost this innocence. But better to lose the innocence than to lose the life like Lelouch and Nunnally had.

Euphie nodded. "Yes... I understand."

Cornelia wondered just how many levels of it Euphie had got, but smiled slightly just the same. She shifted her attention to Area 11's interim administrator - seeing Jeremiah Gottwald again had been quite a surprise, but it was nice to see a face from her first command. Especially in this land. "I have been receiving rather few progress reports, Gottwald."

The blue-haired man frowned slightly, glancing to the side. "I... apologize, Your Highness."

Cornelia brought a finger up to tap her cheek. "You were not this inefficient before. What is going on? Why has the hunt for Zero stalled?" She followed Jeremiah's gaze to a group of three, out of uniform, who stood apart from the officers and administration officials in the greeting party. ... The same group Euphie had glanced towards.

One tall, broad-shouldered man dressed in black and a long red coat, with slightly dusky skin and rough white hair. There was a shorter, slimmer female form slightly behind him that Cornelia couldn't quite see, and a cold-eyed young boy of fourteen who looked... similar enough to the Emperor with his lavender eyes and light brown hair that Cornelia spent a moment trying and failing to remember him from her armada of siblings.

The tall man glanced between his companions, before heaving out a lengthy sigh and stepping forward. "I seem to have been elected to do the talking... Zero is the target of the Special Intelligence Service, by direct command of the Emperor. He has obtained a top-secret weapon that will enable him to destroy any conventional forces that close in on him. The SIS is trained and equipped to handle him - you are not. Therefore, you've been called off."

While his words alone were dubious, the man's step forward had enabled Cornelia to see the pink hair and slight frame of Dame Anya Alstreim, of the Knights of the Round. Someone who truly did take commands directly, and only, from Emperor Charles zi Britannia. Having this flunky talk in her stead was a bit of a breach of decorum, but Alstreim's social aloofness was nearly legendary.

Jeremiah sighed, nodding. "I disbelieved, myself, but I contacted the homeland and received corroboration. We are not permitted to hunt Zero - he is SIS jurisdiction."

"You really don't need to sound that sad about it," the white-haired man noted. "You've been called off because he's in possession of state secrets and top-secret weapons that would kill anything you sent after him. If you find information, pass it on to us and we'll track it down."

Cornelia hummed, folding her arms. "This will complicate matters greatly. The rebellions in Area 11 are a significant problem to begin with. I was tasked with the Governor-Generalship right from the beginning, with the intention of quelling that resistance. I cannot efficiently pursue this task if I must stop myself for fear of brushing across Zero."

She didn't even like the core of it. Zero had killed her brother, she wanted to get him. But that much... well, orders were orders. Being higher up and more prone to giving them than taking them did not change that. She'd resent it, but if the order to cease hunting Zero was given from the Emperor himself, as it seemed it was... then she simply had to back off. That was where her authority flowed from in the first place. She wanted answers, especially regarding why Euphie had glanced at them when pressed on her little expedition, but she didn't really expect to get any. She could probably squeeze something out of Euphie, but...

The man nodded. "Don't stop yourself. Do as you see fit with all the other rebel groups - just call us in when it looks like it points to Zero."

"I presume you will deal with him?"

Dame Alstreim stepped forward, and dropped to a kneel, right arm over her heart, head bowed. "I will. Zero is my target."

Cornelia nodded. The matter was settled. Zero would pay for what he had done to her brother - even if Cornelia could not do it herself, she could take solace in that.

When a Knight of the Round said it, it was as good as done.

~~~I========>

Wise Up - Holding Out For A Hero

For the record, Archer, I did nothing to Dame Alstreim. Had life gone just a bit differently, perhaps I could have, but as it stands, her life proceeded as it did (and as I cannot apparently tell you) without my intervention. That includes her summoning of you - I did not plan it. I am simply using it.

Any fool can plan twenty years in advance, and everyone should plan in advance. But we are working in the real world, not playing on a game board. We cannot perfectly control even one piece, let alone all of them, we do not see the entire board, and we don't even know the rules. Even a god cannot ensure things will not change from their scenario (in fact, there are quite extensive records in myth and legend of gods having quite amusing expressions as their scenarios fall apart). If that plan is too precise and cannot tolerate those changes, then it shatters.

A master strategist is not a chess master orchestrating everything to his desired result. He is a con man, who has a loose plan, a general understanding of how things might influence the result, a recognition of when such factors appear, the will to quickly alter what parts of the plan must be altered to fit the situation as it stands at any given moment, the courage to take whatever risks might best advance it, and the poise to keep doing that without hesitation or even being particularly bothered, as if your plan went perfectly.

Simple, direct, effective plans, without a lot of moving parts to get in each others' way. Finely-tuned watches break - pay attention to the sledgehammer at your feet, pick it up, and implant it into their face.

Precisely concentrated and applied force - getting fancy is merely a way of indulging in your own intellectual ego, and usually doesn't work. The key word being 'precisely' - it is just as idiotic to charge in screaming battle cries. But Rube Goldberg machines are entertaining as an intellectual exercise - not as a way to actually get things done.

Oh shut up, Archer - I conquered the world one and a half times, I can claim to be a master, and therefore to know what one is. Regardless, my point is thus: I have almost never had a plan go eight hours without some new complication coming up with the potential to ruin it all. Do you really think I could ruin Anya's life eight years ago and have things on-track? I'm simply making use of what has presented itself - you.

... Whether or not you believe me, I will proceed to my intended topic.

It occurs to me that you've seen so much of Britannia thus far. Surely, you are thinking that this is a world in need of a rescuer - under assault by a powerful nation gone horrifically wrong. This is a notion you really should be disabused of.

The truth is, they are all villains. No doomed moral victors here. Let me give you a quick whistlestop tour of the world's evil.

We'll start with the Euro Universe, if only because they seem to be promoted as the ideal with the ideology of your time - democracy! But democracy is one element. And it is a good one, make no mistake - but it is not the defining one.

Let's start with the name. Euro Universe.

You've looked at a map, correct? You may have noted that 'Europe' is only, in fact, approximately one fifth of the territory held by the Euro Universe. Africa and Russia comprise another two fifths each, and in fact hold the significant majority of the EU's population.

The colonialism of your own world's history is alive and well - Africa is not there by choice, nor are they treated in any way that could be defined as 'well'. The natives have, in fact, less say in the governing of their African territories than the Honourary Britannians of the Areas do - at least for Britannia's colonial subjects, the option of citizenship (with equal rights on paper, though in practice there is still discrimination) exists. African regions are simply extensions of European territory, legally speaking. The treatment of the Congo was particularly horrific, featuring mass exterminations, slave labour... Half the population died within twenty-three years. We cannot forget about the human zoos - displays showing off 'less developed relatives of mankind'. For basic humanitarian reasons, most of the horrors were trimmed down to more manageable levels, but still, they happened.

And the EU went right after Africa almost immediately upon completing their conquest of Europe - Europe's conquest was completed in 1861 ATB. A consolidation period followed, some attempts at finishing off the remnants of Britannia in the Americas (which were about as successful as you might expect a journey across the world's second-largest ocean to go and fight the world's finest navy to be), and the 20th century rang in with the beginning of the scramble for Africa. They wanted to 'civilize' the place.

They had finished their conquest of Africa by the middle of the century, and then their gazes turned to Russia. Russia's takeover was somewhat different, for the lessened racial character of the event, and the internal support they received - the Russian Tsars were not what we might call wondrous samples of the royal ideal, and their brutal reign led to a great deal of support for the idea of the democratic revolution the EU proposed.

It's difficult to tell the exact reasons behind the assault, without a window into the minds of the decision-makers of the time. The EU invaded Russia in support of an internal democratic revolution, and that is one element. Second: Oil. It's a crass comment, but the fact remains that Russia is the world's third-largest producer of a very interesting strategic resource, after the Middle Eastern Federation and Britannia - we do not use it for power supplies as much as you do (sakuradite is superiour for that purpose when it is available), but it still provides a great deal of uses, plastics and polymers are almost frightening in their sheer potential. And thirdly, Russia was Britannia's last remaining Eurasian ally.

Britannia was opposed to this invasion, as were many within Russia, and thus we entered the Eurasian War - as your First World War, it was our introduction to warfare in the industrial age. Weapons upon weapons were born for this war - military aircraft (in which William Avery Bishop clawed his way from commoner to Knight of One and Duke of Ontario, among the highest nobles in the Holy Britannian Empire), tanks, enhancements in guns... Britannia supported Russia from within, struck Europe on the coast...

Britannia's own reasons are equally complex. On one hand, as noted, Russia was Britannia's last remaining Eurasian ally. The oil note comes up once more, in the case of denying a strategic resource to their great enemy. And then there is the ethical dimension - the reason, that is, that the man on the ground fought. Britannia has not exactly had a stellar relationship to democracy - and the wave of revolution looks, to Britannian eyes, like just another form of imperialism by which very unpleasant people asserted their will over others. An interesting little historical detail? Had the EU not invaded in support of the Russian rebels, Britannia may not have gotten involved either - several of those rebel factions received funding and equipment from independent Britannian citizens.

Britannia was more ashamed of the behaviour of the Tsars than anything else - and the general populace at the time would have been quite comfortable with renewing their alliance with a new and less abusive democratic Russia, if the revolution remained clean. Many within the nobility sought to support one of the last remaining bastions of absolutist monarchy, but it was not entirely decided, and the matter of the brutality of the Tsars and such incidents as Bloody Sunday would not simply disappear - even though Britannia approved of the objective of holding onto the monarchy, the methods used in Russia were... distasteful.

But the EU got involved, turning it from a complex matter of ethics to a battle against the aggressors who had humiliated Britannia, and sought to do the same to their only remaining friend. The debate on whether or not to intervene ended immediately.

But while Britannia's battle was ferocious beyond naming, the fact was that they were pissing into the tide. Britannia was still far smaller than the EU, and they were now on the other side of the oceans that had defended them so well. The Eurasian War was not a complete failure - China was preserved intact from the EU's colonial influence, for one - but the principal Britannian objective was not met, and Russia fell under the EU's sway. And as for the clean revolution... well, the former Tsar was executed after stepping down. As was his entire family, down to thirteen-year-old Alexei. And his extended family was dragged together and thrown down a mine shaft - they survived the fall, so grenades were thrown down after them.

I assume you are familiar with some of the more outstanding, famous elements of Russian history? Your world was not unique in that. The removal of the Tsars did not signal an end to the brutality, and the new, 'democratic' regime... well, they were willing to do quite a bit to secure that hold on power and destroy the other factions that had rebelled alongside them.

The EU's populace has spent the fourty years since complaining of the human rights abuses in Russia and calling for actual democracy - but the governing elements of the remainder of the EU have to keep in mind the practicality of the situation. They cannot put significant pressure on Russia, because Russia directly borders both opposing superpowers, and is presently one of the EU's strongest sub-nations - if Russia pulls out of the EU, the loss will end them as a world power. The EU put the present government into place, but they can no longer keep it under control.

Within a year or two, Britannia will be able to take Russia in its entirety - a conquest of Russia could never be accomplished so fast... but a liberation, an end to another abusive government... well, the Britannians will be welcomed in with parades. The EU cannot hold a territory whose population has no investment in it.

... Oh my. You heard that. I just told you the future, and you heard... How... useful. I will have to think on how I managed that...

For now, we will leave the EU alone, and proceed down the topic of liberation. While Britannia's conquests have been primarily for its own benefit (the justification of 'take over the world' has been cited, but mostly by EU media - Britannia's own objectives in their conquests have been primarily strategic, attempting to obtain staging points and clear space for the future war with the EU that they consider inevitable, and since 1997 ATB, advancing their Ragnarok Connection... damnation, that one didn't go through), the fact remains that by moving in, modernizing, taking a cut off the top, and mostly leaving locals to govern themselves as long as Britannia's strategic quotas are met, Britannia has been, as overlords go, fairly generous.

So when a prior overlord much less kind in nature was in place before Britannia arrived, they are viewed as liberators. Britannia is very popular in Mesoamerica, for instance, where they put an end to the Aztec Triple Alliance's domination of the region (we'll bring up the 'flower wars' they used to obtain captives for various human sacrifices as required in their religion here).

Another, more recent sample is in the Middle Eastern Federation. The MEF is essentially the current form of the medieval Islamic Caliphates - they were once the world superpower, exploding onto the scene and rapidly assembling quite a massive empire indeed.

The question, of course, is what happened to the people who were not Muslim within their territory. The common parlance is 'spread by the sword', and this is not entirely accurate - but it was not spread by rational argument and debate, either. Populations within their control were placed into four categories: Arab, Mawali, Dhimmi, and Kafir. In other words: Islamic, Arabic elite. Islamic, but not Arabic, and therefore lesser. Not Muslim, but worthy of being permitted to live under us. And... well, infidels.

Phrases such as 'running watermills by the blood of massacred captives for three days, and feeding his army with the bread milled from the slaughter' feature in these accounts - I shall not go into the details. Priests executed, temples destroyed, religious texts (and scientific texts - generations worth of knowledge was lost) burned... It was unpleasant history, and while in your world many other religious groups have similar atrocities in their past, in ours, only Islam really had, well, the power and thus the opportunity to actually do it.

'Dhimmi' is a term usually translated as 'People of the Book'. It is a title that was awarded to those whose faith was considered... acceptable... to the Caliphate. In principle, this granted some degree of freedom of religion, protection from forced conversions, all for the hardly-unreasonable price of taxation.

In practice, they were still largely subject to the whims of a populace that considered them subhuman, humiliation and a requirement for distinctive clothing were standard (Zoroastrians, for instance, were not permitted to wear new, clean clothing, and were required to mark themselves with a distinctive yellow patch), and the payment of that taxation involved being humiliated deeply every time they paid, and then struck on the back of the neck and forced away like an unruly dog. It was a spectacle and the public was invited to watch, quite explicitly oriented to mock the subject, and remind them, eternally, of their submission to Islam. (Sometimes the taxes... disappeared into the corruption, requiring it to be paid two or three times so every intermediary got his cut)

Mawali were those who converted to Islam - but even then, they were second-class citizens, denied many basic rights, and still subject to taxation, though less of it. Because, after all - they were not Arabs.

This brutality lightened up considerably in your world (though the taxes were still paid with humiliation and violence as late as the turn of your twentieth century, in some regions). In this one, it did not. The sentence summing all this up seems to be "We blessed you with the sword and dragged you into heaven by the chains of our religion. This by itself is enough for you to understand that we are superiour to you." (Yes, a member of the Umayyad Caliphate actually said that - translated, of course)

Mind, the Caliphate was significantly smaller in this world. It reached the same extent with the same speed, from 'nothing' in 670 ATB to 'Persia, Babylon, Israel, India, north Africa, and almost the entire Iberian Peninsula' by 770 ATB. But then they ran into the heroes of Europe - Charlemagne, the Twelve Paladins (the Knights of the Round, while named after King Arthur's forces, were modelled, as a continuing order, off the Paladins), and Britannia's King of Kings (Cynewulf, at the time), who spent the next four hundred years forcing them back.

... I shouldn't have to specify this, but it was the nations of Europe that spent those four hundred years, not the particular rulers. No, they did not in fact live that long, but their efforts battered the Umayyad Caliphate down to its holdings in the Middle East and India.

The Revanche did not actually end, so much as 'stop', when the Mongols surged out of the east and made everyone's lives more 'interesting'. They were not friendly people themselves, but we will gloss over this because they are not extant at present.

The Middle Eastern territories remained under Caliphate control, and eventually formed into a collection of Islamic Republics under the aegis of the Middle Eastern Federation. But the non-Islamic members of the Islamic Republics (and the Muslims of other sects, and the Muslims of 'approved' sects who were more moderate and willing to treat the prior two groups as human beings), who in some cases formed a significant majority of the population of the 'Islamic Republic', very much welcomed the Britannians. To the point that even when the Black Rebellion forced the Britannians to pull out of Area 18 (they had been thrown into disarray and numerous units had been redirected to Area 11, leaving the other Areas thinly defended indeed), the Middle Eastern Union remained a Britannian ally. Judea, Babylonia, and the Parthian Free State never joined the United Federation of Nations.

Did you hear that one? Ooooh. Excellent.

I mentioned India earlier. And India brings me around to the Chinese Federation, which, distressingly, is probably the least evil of all the major powers - the worst that can be said about China is that it is dysfunctional. It became too large to properly administrate, and corruption slipped into everything. While it cannot be called an act of malice so much as a lack of competence, the fact remains that the people of the Chinese Federation lie, mostly, well below the poverty line. Starving, much of the time.

And, as noted, corruption - the sheer, unbelievably mammoth task required of governing the Chinese Federation requires a great deal of harmonious effort from many advisors. Which leaves many opportunities for people to slip in with whatever their particular objectives of the moment are. The ruler cannot keep an eye on everything. (This problem exists in Britannia as well, but Britannia experiences much less difficulty with it, since the advisors and sub-rulers are usually lifted from the royal family, and thus have a vested interest in keeping the machinery of state functional. One of the advantages to polygamy, I suppose - they have enough members of the royal family to do that)

Thus, while in principle the Chinese Federation is a monarchy under the Tianzi, in practice the Empress of China is a puppet ruler who, however well-meaning, is held prisoner within her palace while advisors misinform her and 'take care of the difficult tasks of rulership' for her. I would not consider this so much of an issue for the Federation as a whole (though the treatment of that child is a problem itself), but the current crop are not nice men at all. I am uncertain if I can really claim an agenda for them other than the acquisition, maintenance, and advancement of their own power and privilege. Even this would not be a problem, because no matter what your objectives, making the people under you, who make it possible, like you... well, that makes things work out so much better.

'Evil', in this sense, is simply shortsighted stupidity and greed, taking everything for oneself without leaving the basics used to build that value in the first place, in essence killing the goose that lays golden eggs - and the Grand Secretaries (more commonly known as the High Eunuchs) of the Chinese Federation demonstrate just this. The resources to feed the entire populace of the Federation are there. But they disappear into the pockets of corrupt bureaucrats at every level, from the High Eunuchs on down.

As to India and the various... well, the various not-China parts of the Chinese Federation? That is actually a product of the First Pacific War, in approximately 1980 ATB - a rather recent development. The Chinese Federation was only recognized with its current sprawling borders in 2000 ATB, at the end of the Pacific War.

This one falls on Japan, so we will dip into Japan's bout of evil. You may be familiar with the term 'Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere' - partially an idealistic desire to see an Asia free of Western colonial domination (by this they meant 'European' - while Britannia did such things, they did not have much time, at that stage, to be colonizing and dominating Asia - they were still busy colonizing and developing the Americas, so Asia was not yet familiar with Britannia's yoke), and partially a naked attempt at building an empire, with puppet states answerable to Japan.

Practically speaking, this meant conquest of east Asia so that they could 'prosper' under Japan's guidance. If you are familiar with Imperial Japan in your world's Second World War, you most likely have the broad strokes - a faster-modernized state in Asia using its newly developed advantages to violently invade the region, with such... fun... as human experimentation and the Rape of Nanking.

The Middle Eastern Federation decided they wanted to carve off a piece of the pie, and took advantage of the Japanese assault to press their own - historians believe it was an attempt to acquire resources and a sufficient population to fend off the EU, because the MEF looked, at the time, to be the EU's next colonial target. The 'House of Islam' was very much in danger.

Fighting a two-front war, and less developed than their enemies, it is frankly incredible that China won. There are three reasons for this. In no particular order: China's very large, very motivated population (with the atrocities coming from the Japanese, they certainly weren't going to back down). Britannia - while Britannia never involved themselves directly in the war, they did provide funding, advisors, and equipment to modernize and stiffen up Chinese resistance. (Not solely an act of altruism - I believe Britannia intended to use Japan and the Middle Eastern Federation as springboards to assault the EU, so they did not want either to grow strong through the conquest of China) And Jiang Datai, the Tianzi of the time, one of the more spectacular world leaders in recent history, who damned near dragged China through the war and from near-medieval to low-modern with his bare hands, and initiated the system of equal resource distribution in an attempt to ensure that even with the corruption, his people had enough.

And thus the new millennium was heralded in with some of the most elegantly-orchestrated violence in well-recorded history, as China weathered the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune just long enough to strike back, surging across demarcation lines, extricating the Japanese from the 'Co-Prosperity Sphere', and at the behest of the Britannians, carving Afghanistan, Kazakhstan, and India off the Middle Eastern Federation, with the aid of the still-Hindu majority of India.

These new member states largely agreed to remain under the Chinese umbrella for defence, thus creating the Chinese Federation.

As for Japan, well, the course of the war became apparent, but before China could push across into Japan itself, the Emperor took action to save his nation. He assumed direct, personal responsibility for the war, and surrendered himself to Jiang, as a sacrifice to end the war and prevent the counter-invasion of Japan. He expected execution for the many crimes his men had committed, though Jiang, in the interests of diplomacy and humanitarianism, simply kept him to live out his last years in polite imprisonment.

Japan itself, with its royal family lost, was reorganized into a democracy (the reorganization done at the Last Emperor's behest), calling on the EU for protection of their nascent democratic state.

Japan's immense sakuradite deposits came into play here, giving Japan another power, to replace the clearly-insufficient military. While sakuradite was available outside of Japan... well, Japan at the time produced as much sakuradite as the entire world put together. (Now, with Britannia's methods, Japan produces a full 70% of the world's sakuradite - or, more than twice as much as the rest of the world put together) This gave them an exceedingly powerful bargaining chip, which they leveraged to its fullest extent.

Economic imperialism, bluntly - if a nation acted in a way contrary to Japan's interests, Japan would simply hike the prices, reduce their sakuradite flow, threaten to give it favourably to enemy states... It was an indirect reign of terror, but it most definitely was a reign, whereby Japan attempted to control the politics of the entire world. There is a reason no one came to Japan's aid when they were invaded - nobody liked them.

The Indochinese Peninsula was what brought Japan to a head - Britannia's conquest of Vietnam (not entirely welcomed, but the locals considered them an improvement over the French - a look at a map will show you that Britannia lost Indochina shortly afterward to the Chinese Federation, though the locals still didn't much care) convinced the Prime Minister, Kururugi Genbu, that Britannia's ambitions needed to be curbed. And since he had a Prince and Princess of Britannia as hostages, he believed Japan safe from attack - so he reduced Britannia's sakuradite share, and funneled it to China and the EU, attempting to force Britannia to the negotiating table.

Britannia simply attacked anyway, uncaring of the hostages - Lelouch and Nunnally vi Britannia - and trampled Japan in a one-month Second Pacific War. The war instantly became desperate for Japan, and Kururugi was very much considering killing the hostages, or even marrying Nunnally (she was seven years old) to give himself a tighter hold on the Britannian royal family - in the end, he was placated for some time, and then he ran out of time. ... Oh come on, I cannot even tell you that? Then again, perhaps the fact that you didn't hear the end of that provides you some information...

Britannia then proceeded to equally share the sakuradite among all nations of the world, and increased the proportions with their more efficient mining procedures - meaning that the practical, economic interest the other states held in an independent Japan was gone. And as previously covered, nobody really liked them, so the moral call for intervention was more of a whisper. Now Britannia held hostage the significant majority of the world's sakuradite supply - nobody could attack them, or it would be cut off. Anyway, we've gone on about Britannia before, you needn't hear it again.

As far as the resistance movements in Japan go. Well, I approve of their goals, but these are people who blow up office buildings to make statements. Of course, that new one on the scene hasn't done anything like that thus far, and does not seem likely to... and you heard. Wondrous.

Yes, that was the quick tour of this world's evil. Though it and more was present in your own world, as well. I believe you may have focused too heavily on the supervillains - because the truth is, there are many injustices and horrors continuing every day without villains delivering hammy lines and displaying supernatural powers. The idea that the world is at peace is a fiction that can only be believed by the fortunate.

... That does not mean the hammy lines cannot be delivered if you want to, of course.

Oh, and I forgot to mention Australia. While its people have neither initiated nor suffered any iniquities of note, their wildlife merits mention, so long as the topic of 'evil' is at hand.

It is a world in need of a hero, certainly. But it's not so simple as picking one good side and driving it to victory.

~~~I========>

Author's Notes:
First thing's first - thanks go out to prereaders - the list being Sunshine Temple, DCG, Ellf, and Belgarion213.
As always, reviews, comments, corrections, and etcetera are appreciated whether for good or ill, and my email's always open (PaleWLF @ gmail com).

[Pale Wolf]

b) I'm very reactive. I will probably be unable to recapture the exact certainty I had about that identity if I am missing some text.

Ouch, yeah, I know that feeling.

Also, I've found I like watching Knightmares.

It was commented on TVTropes that they make the perfect accompaniment to Lelouch's intense ham.

I'm more familiar with Conan than any other detective which does deduction shows, and I needed two other servant suspects to pad out Lancer. Caster is a) unknown so far and b) I thought I'd mix silly in with my better guesses. Others were Aturia, and Char. (A newtype can be considered a wizard whose element is space or space travel/technology.)

Heheh. Works! And certainly, there are Casters out there whose idea of 'attack spell' is 'punch them'.

We had some information about how inhuman the ancestry of mystery baby x was, and I think similar information independently for Lancer. We may have had some information matching timing. I think we also had implications of affinity for 'giggity' for both. Then there are the issues of how many unneeded details it is good craft to drop, how many similar characters should be introduced, not leaving introductions too late, and other subjective guesswork about writing craft.

I was mainly wanting to go so far as I was because I thought I had a really solid case, as well as a Tiger Dojo joke that wasn't too horrible.

There's also the fact that Arturia, whose 'natural enemy' is 'old men who like mischief' (the implications are clear as to who), just finds something she dislikes about Lancer's face.

I will note that Lancer doesn't know precisely how inhuman her ancestry may or may not be, though - Suzaku considers it to be 'fairly high', but he's looking at it from the Japanese magical cultural lens, where the demon hybrid ancestry is at least two or three generations back. One nonhuman grandparent (25%) would be 'distressingly high' from as far as Suzaku's been taught - Merlin's daughter 'Avalon' would be 75% nonhuman, which is downright unreal from that perspective (well, that's the Age of Gods for you). Of course, Suzaku also can't directly measure exactly how recent the ancestry is and how heavily it expresses itself, especially not half-trained as he is - best he can manage is to sniff and take a guess. She knows her birth mother is leanan sidhe so she's at least 50% nonhuman, but she has no clue who or what her blood father is (aside from presuming human).

Fire away with the Tiger Dojo joke, we can't know how horrible it is until we try

Side question I think. Per Geass wiki, Renya is Edo period and in the same timeline as Lelouch. Anyway, the Philippines are apparently under the control of a Spain cognate power, which would probably put it before the EU forming revolution in War of Kings universe. On the one hand, Spain cognate colonies make me wonder about them not having the colonizing power to take enough of the new world to contest Britannia for ownership around the time of the same EU formation wars. On the other, if some power is occupying the Philippines, Indonesia, Malaysia and so forth, they might've been able to hold down piracy enough to justify not having the Switzerstalians being pulled in out of sheer defense of interests. (Endemic warfare and banditry becomes endemic piracy when enough water is involved. I suspect the first is pretty much the natural state of human societies whenever enough people are living close enough together.) Anyway, I have found memories of certain books on the history of the Philippines.

Renya, I'm not directly familiar with. Some of the Code Geass spinoffs are directly canonical, others aren't. (Akito for instance looks to be straight canonical. Oz the Reflection looks like it could be. Nightmare of Nunnally is hilariously not. And Renya appears to fall more into the 'hilariously not' category.) That said, historical aspects can at least be considered.

As far as Spain, they had a fairly-sized colonial extent. Not quite the same as in our history. Part of what made the conquistadors was the fact that, simply put, a centuries-long war in Spain ended exactly in 1492 - Spain and Portugal had a vast military power that they needed to decommission without devolving into civil war, so they sent them out to do their killing on other continents, and since it worked out so well, they continued after the initial cadre had passed away. In the War of Kings timeline, well, the Reconquista ended long earlier, with support from Britannia and the Carolingians - they rolled in during the initial Muslim conquest of Spain around the mid-eighth century (our years), and started rolling the Umayyads back in the Revanche (this timeline's version of the Crusades), whilst clonking each other over the head if either particularly looked like they were planning on conquering Hispania. The Revanche continued off and on with whichever countries could have the interest drummed up until the Mongols barged in and got everyone distracted, but mostly in Africa and Greece-to-Turkey - Hispania's liberation was, comparatively, smooth (it was slightly 'hell' for conquerors to begin with, and with dedicated Britannian and Carolingian support on their own doorstep and at the very edge of the Umayyad logistical line, they couldn't manage to hang on). Of course, whenever the Revanche lit up again, Hispanian kingdoms were always willing to contribute at least a few units.

So, our timeline's inflated military Spain didn't actually exist in 1492. The exploration still occurred, but they didn't have a large cadre of military-skilled men to get rid of. The conditions that led to colonization in general still existed (widespread poverty, perception of available resources, population pressures, etc), but Spain's lead wasn't quite as commanding. Still, Britannia, Spain, and the Netherlands were the big colonizers across the sea routes (every European nation snagged a couple, but France and Germany mostly seemed to favour Africa).

The Phillipines/Malaysia/Indonesia/etc region was mostly split between Hispania and the Dutch, with minor holdings for Britannia as well. But after the Napoleonic wars, there really wasn't any power in control. Strictly speaking, the EU inherited the territories. Practically speaking, Spain and the Netherlands were invaded by France. They certainly weren't cheerfully handing over their flags - what remained of their own forces and government bailed out to their own colonies, same as Britannia did. We got some endemic warfare with EU efforts to consolidate the conquest, and Australia was hired on by all three sides in this little rumble - cheerfully accepting contracts to beat on the Spanish/Portugese/Dutch, and just as cheerfully accepting contracts to beat off the EU. (Australia's own objective was to keep the EU out of the region and 'not getting designs on them'. So they stopped the EU from rolling in themselves, but willingly accepted contracts to 'trim down' the colonial forces and keep them from building up for a reconquest of Europe - which was a very valid concern at that time. And as you noted, this left a lot of piracy going since the only other powers in the region were explicitly being weakened, so more work for them.)

The colonial states don't really exist anymore, though. Japan smeared them all in the Pacific War, and then they had at most a dozen years of 'thank god almighty, we are free at last' independence (that is to say, under native rule - though the European stock basically counted among the natives at that point - rather than as 'Hispania/the Netherlands in exile') before getting snapped up by China and Britannia. Broadly, the closest IRL parallel to their prior political status is probably Taiwan - considering themselves the legitimate government of their former territory, but not considered such by the current government of said territory.

[Knight of L-sama]

Hmmm, a general question just occured that I probably should have asked earlier.

Where do the Code Bearers and the Geass Cult fit in amongst the mages and other supernatural factions of the Nasuverse, particularly the Dead Apostles. (or for that matter the Burial Squad<imagines CC and Ciel drinking tea and commiserating over the many ways they've died>). It canon to the assorted Nasu stories that a lot of mages have sought out immortality so that they would have longer to continue their research into the Akasha/The Root/whatever and most of them wind up getting stomped pretty hard because they wind up turning into or creating vampires (see Roa, Nvsqr Chaos and Kirigitsu's father).

However the Code Bearers are an entirely different sort of immortal all together and I can imagine a lot of Nasuverse mages signing up willingly for the shot at it if they ever crossed paths with one. I can also see the Dead Apostles, or at least some of them, objecting to their presence on general principle and trying to destroy them or turn them or just generally being pains in the ass.

Final random thought, the original Roa getting whammied with CC's 'Love Me' Geass would cause everyone a lot less grief, especially Arcueid and Ciel.

[Pale Wolf]

Ah, good question, that.

First thing to note is that the Church doesn't actually exist. Christianity exists, but never swelled to its vast size - Christianity's 'big break' in our history came through adoption by a Roman emperor... whose power base was in the British Isles... about two hundred years after Rome's fall in the War of Kings timeline. The only 'superpower Semitic religion' is Islam, though druidism is still popular in Britannia, and Zalmoxism (a Romanian religion prior to the region's annihilation by Rome - the region is, in this verse, still under its original name, Dacia) is the closest in-universe analogue to Christianity as 'Europe's religion', though distinctly smaller.

In broad terms, there are pretty much a similar number of religious people capable of operating on the supernatural landscape (Kotomine Risei can do a little bit, and you've seen Farah Ansari's 'I just openly call myself a magus because I am one by the original religious meaning of the word' demonstrating the Zoroastrian side) - possibly even a higher amount. But no one religion has the sheer operating mass of our timeline's Christianity - the ability to collect 'one or two' people from nearly every city in the world, and then turn them into battalions to deploy worldwide.

Its 'place' in the supernatural political landscape is held, mostly, by the Geass Directorate, serving as a semi-neutral faction in squabbles between mages, vampires, etc. Its place in terms of 'keeping the world from dying' is distributed out - local religious groups generally manage superiour local coverage compared to what the Catholic Church could manage (because they mostly take care of matters at home rather than go out crusading), the Association's Enforcers pick up some more of the slack (though the Association still considers them the janitors), and the vampires pick up the rest (they certainly have crazies among them, but they also have a rather powerful moderate faction, under Altrouge Brunestud, that has a basic realization of 'we need humans alive to survive ourselves, and a world to live on would be nice too', and take an environmentalist's 'take what we need, and preserve the rest' stance).

Ciel probably works with the vampiric burial agency, Roa is one of their big recurring annoyances. (Well, will, because it's 13-14 years before she's actually been born) They don't really cooperate with Arcueid on her hunts, they sort of race each other to killing his ass. (This, mind, only applies to Altrouge's moderate faction - Ortenrosse's somewhat crazier faction proposed the True Ancestor hunt to begin with, and if a vampire from that faction is around, more likely to be gunning for Arcueid. See: Nero Chaos)

Code Bearers are an interesting case, but because they're such an interesting case, it's generally agreed upon to 'never mix the paths, on pain of death'. Codes (and the geasses springing from them) are a direct uplink to Alaya. Aside from the numerous other aspects involved, this also equates to 'enough prana to make the Holy Grail feel inadequate'.

Magi certainly want the immortality, and the prana... but nobody wants someone else to be 'a new god on this Earth'. Codebearers sometimes seek out magical instruction because they can do so much with it, and magi often seek out codebearers for a contract to immortality and sheer power. When they come to an agreement, everyone drops everything and tries to kill them before their rise to godhood (once the geass-bearing magus takes the code, you have 'nigh-infinite prana' mixed with 'immortality'). It's happened enough times that both sides generally accept it as heresy and generally don't go about it. Every so often, you still get someone who thinks he's special and can overcome 'the entire world' against him. He's usually wrong.

(Anya managed to get barebones instruction because she's an oddball case and her geass access is only through a possessing spirit, but her instructor still freaked and tried to kill her when he figured it out. He was better at magecraft. She's a knight - she's better at killing.)

There were originally thirteen Codes (and thirteen Thought Elevators). People who've tried this sort of scheme tend to get sealed away by varying means since one of the participants is immortal unless someone manages to yoink the Code, so there are only a few Codes (CC's and VV's, for instance) still circulating, and only nine Thought Elevators still functional (battle damage, mostly, though not always). (New Hampshire, underwater in the Caribbean, Antarctica, Kaminejima, southern Africa, under London, Iran, Kazakhstan, and Russia)

Basically, everyone's interested, but nobody wants someone else to have that kind of power. So combining the 'kill them' reflex with the fact that the nature of the contract is to give someone else the power, it's quite rare.

[OSMQEP]

Yeah, and Britannia has some degree of social mobility. It's not easy for a commoner to become a noble, but it is possible. If you're ridiculous enough to be a Heroic Spirit and make Knight of One, you can even jump straight from commoner to duke of one of the largest territories in the empire (Billy Bishop...).

By this point, I'm satisfied I more or less understand the state of Britannia's weapons laws. By now, I'm just fishing for excuses for some of the non-combatants being trained and armed.

Particularly Shirley. If Billy versus SNAKEMAN is anything to go by, in canon she died on suspect grounds. The higher end of what I'm thinking of is weapons training, being prepared for death, and a pistol in her room. Lower end is just dying well.

Edit: Long later thought after seeing a good chunk of R1. What I was thinking now looks odd, and maybe inappropriate. That first Shirley arc...

I really do need to dig that up, because seriously, hard to exceed the win quotient there.

If any copy will satisfy, I think the one I read was Baen, and published inside the last few years. It is very likely that it is available at webscriptions. (The website is baen ebooks these days, and there is a method to get books for free via their planet baen website that is so time consuming as to not be cost effective for anyone with a regular income.)

I might well have missed 'em. And yeah, it would be a somewhat different mode of warfare than they were used to, and not really what they excelled at, at the time.

I assumed but may have neglected to explicitly state that I was working off Britannia owning all the North American colonies. Yes, I forgot about south and central american gold, but one cannot eat gold. I was more concerned about Craftsmen and arable land under cultivation. I figure that Britannia could not simply buy or hire enough of these from Europe under the cognate of The Terror, no matter the gold. If the colonies had the population density that this wouldn't be a problem, I imagine that they also had the population to support another round of the Revolution.

I still figure they did the whole partial downsize and settle onto land thing, but that is just my pet theory for my own WSoD, when I haven't been reading enough PI AARs.

Oh? Caught one of the hints, perhaps?

I put several things together, and that helped me put other things together. I'm currently wanting to do some stuff with the explanation that would mean doing it separately, later.

Edit: This was the possibly abandoned deduction show I had plans for.

After that, I was basically going to wait for the resolution to the ch 4 discussion before posting up ch 5 (which, on thought, seems to be now).

If I'm the only one still rambling on, it may be just as well to post. I recently dug up a partial essay of mine on binary chemical shells from a couple of years back, and it reminded me of more things that I might say about the whole issue of whether we have a good enough idea how the Lancealot's 'thermite' shells to work to start a production line. (Which again, is a fairly BS standard for stuff to argue about discussing fanfic. Sometimes my eye for detail and love for fully solving a problem gets away from me.)


Finally started on the actual chapter five. Just about five months after the day I thought I would get started on it. As you will see, besides real life, there was another reason why this took longer than usual to work out.

Warning for songs mixed in with the rest of the weirdness.

Kallen shook her head, holding up her hands in a T shape. "Back up, back up. We never got the chance this morning, so... what the hell is the Holy Grail War? This sounds utterly ridiculous, but whatever, you're a ghost that claims to be King Arthur. Either I'm crazy or the world is, so let's just hear what you have to say."

It could be both. Just because she is functional, mostly, does not make her sane.

She lives in a Tokusatsu world, with Mecha and, OOC, CLAMP was involved. And that is before Nasu is mixed in.

The political worldbuilding in Geass does not strike me as being as absurd as I find most Gundam, so either Sunrise was slacking off or your canon is a strong enough influence on me that it is leaking over into my watching experience.

Kokoro watched the screens, staring. "... Lancer really wasn't kidding." As a magus, the incredible lack of subtlety displayed by the three rebels following Kallen was vaguely offensive. Secrecy was life's breath, heart's blood, and mother's milk for a magus.

Once a jolly Swagman camped by a billabong,
under the shade of a coolibah tree...

The propaganda really was overwhelming. Again, as someone taught subtlety before she'd learned how to walk, it was laid on so thickly as to be nearly offensive. 'The Britannian army's overwhelming victory made the ignorant Japanese government realize how insignificant they were. In the aftermath of this lesson, the Empire and Elevens worked together, paving the way for a new rebirth'? Seriously?

I'll admit that my view on the war between America and Japan is probably just as offensive from the viewpoint of many Japanese nationals.

She nodded absently, watching the three men, led by the curly-haired one in the brown jacket, stop in front of one of the naval war pictures, chatting under their breaths, demonstrably not looking at each other. Too obvious, she wanted to scream. They talked plenty loud when they were pretending to be quislings who actually bought into the propaganda, but whenever they said anything real they went all quiet. They shouldn't be saying anything real when they were out in public on an operation to begin with! Were they really discussing confidential, rebellion information in a Britannian propaganda center?

And they were all wearing the exact same brand of red headband. As uniforms went, it was quite subtle, but they shouldn't be wearing uniforms on a spy mission to begin with!

She could feel Lelouch's eyes on her, and she knew there was that slight smile on his face. "Painful, isn't it?"

Kokoro sighed, clutching a lock of her hair and tugging. "It's like they learned all their tradecraft from spy movies... please tell me Lancer didn't have to hurt the guards to clear out this room. This... really isn't worth it.

Now that I think about it, isn't this pretty much the tack you are taking with most of the adaptation?

"Please, stop." the boy began, tone apologetic. "You are bothering that young woman."

Heh.

Sugiyama shook his head. "Good gods, he's real." He looked at Kallen. "Please tell me it wasn't someone this... showy?"

I dunno if it was CLAMP or Sunrise that was watching too much Tokusatsu when they put the show together, or both.

Kaname reached out to take them, sighing. Clearly, Zero wanted them to think about whether or not they should join him. Kaname... probably would try at least his first few operations. Fuyuki had turned out incredibly because of this weirdo. "... Just who was that masked man?"

He's less of a lone ranger this time around.

Kururugi Suzaku frowned, slipping through the waves of people as they milled around, towards the strange, unnatural scent. He'd only received the barest minimum of training in the family duties, but even he could feel the pulsing waves of... comfort.

When I was a young man, I carried me pack, and I lived the free life of a rover...

Kallen frowned, slowly following the strange sense of Aon's location as the small woman trailed after Zero. If nothing else proved that they'd been bound together by some mystical force, the fact that she could feel where the ghost-person-thing was did.

Men of Harlech stop your dreaming,
can't you see their spearpoints gleaming,
see their warrior pennants streaming,
to this battlefield!

Men of Harlech stand ye steady
it can not be ever said ye,
for the battle were not ready,
Britannians never yield.

From the hills rebounding,
let his war cry sounding,
summon all at Cumbria's call,
the mighty foe surrounding,

Men of Harlech gone to glory,
this will ever be your story,
keep these burning words before ye,
Britannians will not yield.

She didn't know how he'd gotten the streets empty for this, but passing through the empty ghetto was... disturbing. The city had been shattered for almost a decade, but now there was no one even there... it looked like the end of the world.

The minstrel girl to war is gone,
in the ranks of death you will find her,
her brother's sword she hath girded on,
and his wild harp slung behind her
Land of Song said the warrior,
though all the world betrays thee,
one sword at least thy rights shall guard,
one faithful harp shall praise thee.

The minstrel fell, but the foeman's chain
could not bring that proud soul under
the harp she lov'd never spoke again
for she tore its chords asunder
and said 'no chains shall sully thee
thou soul of love and bravery
thy songs were made for the pure and free
they shall never sound in slavery

The girl cocked her head, looking a bit surprised herself. "... Nero? What happened to your chest?" Aaaaand there went the tension of the moment. "I was only seeing you on spiritual before, but now that I see with my eyes..."

You know, I think Nero would have been a patrician. If the Roman laws for Prostitutes and blonde wigs are anything to go by, I'd imagine the patricians would tend towards dark hair.

"Britannian?" Lelouch queried, pulling off his cloak and stepping aside, towards a large briefcase lying in the corner of the reception room. "My birth did not override my ethics. If anything, it amplifies the matter. The behaviour of Britannia is, as a Britannian, my responsibility."

I am a Britannian.

For I myself has said it,
that its greatly to my credit,
that I remain a Britannian.
I could have been a Russian,
or French or Turk or Prussian.
Or Perhaps Italian!

Servant Chorus:
Or Perhaps Italian!

But in spite of all temptations,
to belong to other nations,
I remain a Britannian!

Servant Chorus.

More seriously, he hasn't really had the opportunity to change nationality.

... Wow. One word and Kallen could set off a murder-brawl. It was downright frightening to realize just how much power she held right here. She shook her head. "Uh... what do you think, Aon?"

Seems a maturing experience.

The dark-haired girl laughed off the insult, waving a hand. "You may look like Nero, but you're less loud and you hate the right people, so we're good."

When Britain first, at heaven's command,
Aro-o-o-ose from out the a-a-a-zure main,
Arose, arose, arose from out the a-azure main,
This was the charter, the charter of the land,
And guardian A-a-angels sang this strain:

Rule Britannia!
Britannia rule the waves
Britons never, never, never shall be slaves.
Rule Britannia!
Britannia rule the waves.
Britons never, never, never shall be slaves.

Still more majestic shalt thou rise,
More dreadful, from each foreign stroke;
As the loud blast that tears the skies,
Serves but to root thy native oak.
"Rule, Britannia! rule the waves:
"Britons never will be slaves."

The Muses, still with freedom found,
Shall to thy happy coast repair;
Blest Isle! With matchless beauty crown'd,
And manly hearts to guard the fair.
"Rule, Britannia! rule the waves:
"Britons never will be slaves."

Britannia rule the waves.
Britons never, never, never shall be slaves.

Problems atop problems... Even Goldilocks was here in town, roughing up the Tohsaka Manor. It was almost comforting to see that sneering, hair-gelled face. Sure, he hated the bastard, but it was a familiar problem, and Archer was basically one of the best-equipped Servants on the Throne for ripping the asshole a new one. Hopefully Rin's... grandmother? Grandfather? Whichever. Was fine.

Gil: Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of myself...

Of course, victory wasn't the objective. The specifics of Archer's job freaking sucked, but even knowing where his borrowed ideals led, he still couldn't just stand by and let evil shit happen. And that meant finding some way to save the world. And he didn't quite know what the hell the threat was in the first place - he knew what it should be, but everything was all... strange.

And did those feet in ancient time.
Walk upon Englands mountains green:
And was the holy Lamb of God,
On Englands pleasant pastures seen!

And did the Countenance Divine,
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded here,
Among these dark Satanic Mills?

Bring me my Bow of burning gold;
Bring me my Arrows of desire:
Bring me my Spear: O clouds unfold!
Bring me my Chariot of fire!

I will not cease from Mental Fight,
Nor shall my Sword sleep in my hand:
Till we have built Jerusalem,
In Englands green & pleasant Land

... How had the First even had him summoned? He'd been getting along well enough with Anya that he thought it was personal compatibility at first, but it seemed to play so well into whatever the First's plan was that the fucker had to have arranged it somehow. Had he used the Counter Force's low-end manipulation to screw up her life badly enough that she'd summon Archer off personal compatibility? How far in advance had he planned this?

Nasty thought those.

She nodded, looking down. "... happens sometimes. I black out. I have no idea what I do... when this happens."

O Anya Girl, the pipes the pipes are calling,
from glen to glen, and down the mountainside...

Archer pursed his lips. "... I don't honestly know. Your personality... shifted, and you mostly babbled about random terms." He wanted to tell her his suspicions, but the 'other' Anya... she knew what he'd said to this one. If he was going to deal with her, he'd need to keep her in the dark on what little he did know.

An EMIYA Archer just isn't Archer without the tangy zip of a secret agenda hidden from his Master.

Kallen narrowed her eyes. "... Sure. But whoever cast that spell - you or otherwise - is dead if I find them out."

That might be a problem, wasn't it Takara?

Most did not, and he firmly believed that. He was quite sure that his work in the community decreased the number yet further. But there was no cause so perfect it didn't attract monsters, and everyone was at their most extreme out here in the ghetto, where nobody had enough to eat, and nobody enforced the laws. (Officially. In practice, that was a significant portion of his work in the community)

There is a case for enforcing enough law on the ghetto to require everybody to keep ID on them.

The next step was, of course, to go around and meet the guest. Hopefully this guest was as peaceful as Kururugi had been earlier this day - the fact that they were approaching by the front was probably a good sign.

This seems significant.

Quickly enough, he came around the corner of the house, and blinked. The person there... well, he didn't know her, but he did recognize her. Her features and build took much more after her mother, but her colouration was pure Naota. Not to mention the red and black clothing - was that hereditary?

Well, that raises some questions seeming as how Archer also ended up in Red and Black.

He chuckled, stepping up towards where she waited at the front door. "Takara-chan? It's been a long time... you didn't even come up to hip height last time I saw you."

Deep is our blow, our wrath invincible,
we have no mercy, no homeland.
Our whole happiness is at the tip of our swords,
our hearts may not give in.
Our war cry rings, enchanting the country,
which is severing its chains.
Our defiance may not tire,
until the people of Finland are free.

When lowered with despair were heads of the other citizens, the country,
we Jägers still believed.
There was a dark night in the heart, a thousands pains,
but one thought proud, holy:
We shall rise as the revenge of Kullervo,
it is sweet to pass the fates of war.
A new tale of Finland is to be born,
it grows, it rushes, it wins.

Häme, Karelia, shores and lands of Viena,
one great is Finland´s reign.
Its ideology can´t be driven by brute force,
away from beneath the northern sky.
Its Lion Flag is carried
by strong hands of Jägers,
Over thunderous, gory fields
towards the coast of rising Finland.

The form quickly coalesced, bare feet thumping against the street outside his door as the figure landed. He was quite a tall man - easily over two meters. Not a giant, but a big guy, muscled to match, and looking even larger next to Takara's thin frame. His skin was very pale, almost gray, and most of it was exposed, other than a limited array of plates on calves, left forearm, and around his midsection. Thinning corn-yellow hair, but still reasonably long, tied back into a short ponytail.

Fighting soldiers from the sky,
fearless men, who jump and die,
men who mean, just what they say,
the brave men of the green beret,
...

"Isn't he?" Sumire held out her arms, showing the child a bit more closely. Kirei really was a handsome baby - the baby fat was already receding to show his strong jawbones, the beginnings of a rich, dark brown mop of hair were beginning to set in... he'd be a heartbreaker, all right.

I'm short on notions of songs for Kirei, Sumire, and Risei. The best I've got is Amazing Grace, dunno, and Come All Ye Faithful.

Risei dismissed his first wild thought. No matter how dangerous the combination of magus and terrorist was, he couldn't possibly be bad enough to have summoned Satan, black and trident notwithstanding. "So it's a possible lead towards a Master... what are you planning to do from there?"

I forget if you've specified Merlin's parentage, but this might be fairly funny if Lancer is Apple, and we are talking about the granddaughter of the entity, not the entity itself.

Kallen had brought their own transport up behind them, parking behind the Britannians while they occupied the charging stations. A few infantrymen surrounded the trucks as security while the recharge proceeded - Tohru was nervous enough, though they didn't seem to be on particularly high alert, their helmets were off, guns slung on the armstraps instead of in hand, and they were chatting quietly.

... Their features were Japanese. Honourary Britannians. Half of Tohru wanted to hate the quislings who'd sold out his homeland even more than the true Britannians... but the other half said they were his countrymen.

There are reasons for an empire to not station occupying troops in their nation of origin. If for nothing else than connections to the locals makes it easier to defraud the military by corruption with the locals. I remember that the Romans liked to switch things up that way.

That said, if Britannia is playing up the differences between the regions, they might gain a similar effect from Hokkaido troops in Kyoto, Kanto troops in the southern islands, and Okinawa troops in the north of the main island, and that sort of thing. Segment the entertainment channels between the regions, and play them off each other. City versus country, Tokyo versus outlying regions, more occupied versus less occupied, suggest that Kyoto and Tokyo be blamed for the failings of the last emperor, blaming Genbu's area of Origin for Genbu's surrender...

The rear camera was gold for now - he could see Zero and Ohgi, in their infantry uniforms, strolling up behind the resistance truck. Both their features were hidden, but he could still tell them apart on camera - Ohgi was a bit heavier-set, and Zero's stride was graceful, and fearlessly confident. Ohgi was a bit more nervous, though he seemed to be moving ahead.

Good or Gold?

Zero's rich voice came back in an amused chuckle. "To prevent the alarm from going out - the same reason we did not simply overwhelm with the knightmare. We do have potential escape routes if the soldiers, or the gas station clerk, report in the theft, but it is far more ideal to not be pursued at all. I will proceed via a different route and drop these men off elsewhere."

Wasn't it a charging station? Gas station implies either translation, or that Gasoline's energy density was enough better than alternatives prior to Sakuradite based batteries have an effect on the language.

Well, Tohru didn't honestly care all that much. Sure, a name and face would be great, but smooth relations with the freaky genius strategist who was angling for a rank as Japan's star of salvation were rather more important, and he didn't really feel like pressing Kallen on it. He would need to get around to reminding her on the whole 'secrecy' front, though. "Huh. So he has a group already."

Haha.

Guilford had halfway flipped out on hearing they'd need to stay in this forsaken desert to crush that last bastion. Which was, of course, why Andreas was strolling away from the main encampment for some late night air. Anyway, they were ready to go tomorrow. Honestly, Andreas viewed it as an opportunity to learn new tricks, so he was almost thanking the Arabs for putting up a decent fight.

Maybe Britannia is doing something wrong?

Farah's right hand reached out to the front of the cigarette, and she snapped her fingers. The cigar lit, bright and cheery.

I've been having some trouble coming up with a song for this likely Master. 'We Three Kings' on the one had, and the Elvis Great Balls of Fire song on the other.

'tis a gift to be simple,
'tis a gift to be free,
'tis a gift come down
where we ought to be.
And when we find ourselves in the place just right
'twill be in the valley of love and delight.

When true simplicity is gained,
to bow and to bend we shan't be ashamed
to turn, turn will be our delight
'til by turning, turning we come round

Andreas couldn't suppress an irrational shiver. "You know, if you did that creepy long-view magus talk about Britannia's fall in front of Guilford or the Princess, you'd be in a lot of trouble, right?" It was weird using that term, too. 'Magus'. Intellectually, he knew it was the title of Zoroastrian clerics like Farah Ansari, but he was still sucked into the more widespread meaning of 'sorceror', however ridiculous the concept was.

I have a vague recollection, maybe from a class. Weren't those the guys that only touched living things in order to kill them, or am I confusing them with a different group of mid eastern priests from ancient history? Or maybe I'm just confused in general.

Farah pursed her lips, right hand lightly stroking the bandage over her left elbow. "There was some business we had to attend to in Japan, as well. I will offer our assistance if you feel you require it."

Grail War.

She smiled sadly, looking down at the ground. "... One refugee. An important one. We need to find where he is, too."

The guy in the grail, I presume.

I'm also getting a vibe of Clifford, the big red dog, and IIRC, Emily Elizabeth from her and her dog.

Euphemia li Britannia sighed, striding through the blasted-out buildings and ruins.

The center of Tokyo is Maru no Uchi.
Hibiya Park and the Parliament.
That beautiful building is the Imperial Theater.
That imposing structure is the Metropolian Police Department.
Past the many governmental buildings is the Babasakimon.
Tokyo Kaijo Building and the Tokyo Station.
The train chugs along. Where is it going?
Asakusa, the prosperous part of Tokyo.
Kaminarimon, Nakamise, and Sensouji.
The old lady who sells pigeon feed.
...

... It was a ghost town. There were people here, but very, very few left - she'd only seen a somewhat antisocial white-haired boy as she stepped through, and he'd seen her and turned to walk in the other direction. And that was the sum total of human presence, as far as she'd seen.

Mao comes to mind.

The man who spoke stepped through, prompting Euphemia to look 'up'. He was huge. He easily broke two meters, and every millimeter was solid. Tanned skin, a handful of scars, wild red hair and short beard, and he wore some form of dark, metallic, Iron Age armour, with a long, bright red cloak slung over his back. "So! You're my Master, then?" He smiled, bright and just as joyous as his laugh.

Bring the good old bugle boys, we'll sing another song,
sing it with a spirit that will start the world along,
sing it like we used to sing it fifty thousand strong,
while we were marching through Georgia.



I left my love, my love I left a sleepin' in her bed.
I turned my back on my true love when fightin' Johnny Reb.
I left my love a letter in the hollar of a tree.
I told her she would find me, in the US Cavalry.




Let Bacchus' sons be not dismayed
But join with me, each jovial blade
Come, drink and sing and lend your aid
To help me with the chorus:

Instead of spa, we'll drink brown ale
And pay the reckoning on the nail;
No man for debt shall go to jail
From Garryowen in glory.


I had a classics instructor that made a big deal about Alexander's friendly nature.

"While we are here," Cornelia interrupted, holding up a hand. "Call me Governor-General. Vice-Governor-General Euphemia." It was an issue worth noting, but it was a bit minor. More importantly, Cornelia did not want to discuss that 'but' in public - royalty couldn't let their facade crack, let alone in front of the people who depended on that model human. So Euphie had to be interrupted. "That distinction is all the more important because we are actual siblings."

I like the justification here for some of Cornelia's seemingly obnoxious behavior.

She didn't even like the core of it. Zero had killed her brother, she wanted to get him. But that much... well, orders were orders. Being higher up and more prone to giving them than taking them did not change that. She'd resent it, but if the order to cease hunting Zero was given from the Emperor himself, as it seemed it was... then she simply had to back off. That was where her authority flowed from in the first place. She wanted answers, especially regarding why Euphie had glanced at them when pressed on her little expedition, but she didn't really expect to get any. She could probably squeeze something out of Euphie, but...

Probably Euphie is already in contact with Archer.

It's difficult to tell the exact reasons behind the assault, without a window into the minds of the decision-makers of the time. The EU invaded Russia in support of an internal democratic revolution, and that is one element. Second: Oil. It's a crass comment, but the fact remains that Russia is the world's third-largest producer of a very interesting strategic resource, after the Middle Eastern Federation and Britannia - we do not use it for power supplies as much as you do (sakuradite is superiour for that purpose when it is available), but it still provides a great deal of uses, plastics and polymers are almost frightening in their sheer potential. And thirdly, Russia was Britannia's last remaining Eurasian ally.

Time for more Paradox Interactive games can explain away WSoD issues.

Well, this is Vickie times, and not EU III, but if the EU were being played in EU, they would would have conquered Russia because of the danger of Britannia getting it via Personal Union.

Britannia's own reasons are equally complex. On one hand, as noted, Russia was Britannia's last remaining Eurasian ally. The oil note comes up once more, in the case of denying a strategic resource to their great enemy. And then there is the ethical dimension - the reason, that is, that the man on the ground fought. Britannia has not exactly had a stellar relationship to democracy - and the wave of revolution looks, to Britannian eyes, like just another form of imperialism by which very unpleasant people asserted their will over others. An interesting little historical detail? Had the EU not invaded in support of the Russian rebels, Britannia may not have gotten involved either - several of those rebel factions received funding and equipment from independent Britannian citizens.

Again, if Russia had stayed independent, they could have inherited it via Personal Union.

... Oh my. You heard that. I just told you the future, and you heard... How... useful. I will have to think on how I managed that...

Well, if they can do it inside of two years, then they must have already done the staff work. So it is less a matter of telling the future than it is telling secret information, or merely information that an informed person could work out.

So when a prior overlord much less kind in nature was in place before Britannia arrived, they are viewed as liberators. Britannia is very popular in Mesoamerica, for instance, where they put an end to the Aztec Triple Alliance's domination of the region (we'll bring up the 'flower wars' they used to obtain captives for various human sacrifices as required in their religion here).

Those guys. I don't like those guys.

I managed to spook my self one time when I was doing some research on them, and looked up Mexico's full name, after thinking about the flag.

Also:
From the Halls of Montezuma...

The question, of course, is what happened to the people who were not Muslim within their territory. The common parlance is 'spread by the sword', and this is not entirely accurate - but it was not spread by rational argument and debate, either. Populations within their control were placed into four categories: Arab, Mawali, Dhimmi, and Kafir. In other words: Islamic, Arabic elite. Islamic, but not Arabic, and therefore lesser. Not Muslim, but worthy of being permitted to live under us. And... well, infidels.

This is also something I'm fairly familiar with.

...to the shores of Tripoli...

The Revanche did not actually end, so much as 'stop', when the Mongols surged out of the east and made everyone's lives more 'interesting'. They were not friendly people themselves, but we will gloss over this because they are not extant at present.

Not friendly, hah.

How do I put this? Due to various real life issues, mid-September or so I was thinking about a certain aspect of the Mongols.

To some extent, they might still be extant to a degree. I did a paper in school that partly touched on how the Mongols took over China and formed the Yuan, literally original, dynasty. But case I've just put together for that just now is dubious, and mainly based on some of the mysticism. More on this in the china comment.

The mongols greatly valued the institutions of the embassy and the ambassador. They did much to promote these, and I dunno if they managed to help build lasting support and respect for those institutions.

Anyway, I wonder how different the institutions of international diplomacy are in geass world compared to our own. If they have formal hostages, that is a big difference, I think. Passports, Visas, consulates, embassies and ambassadors? I figure australia would have diplomatic relations with everyone, and a person might be able to get from one power to another by way of there. Perhaps Takara, Isabelle, and Sorin came that way? Does the EU have relations with Britannia? Do they have a consulate in Area Eleven? Does Switzerstralia? Does Britannia allow any official foreign presence in Japan?

The Middle Eastern territories remained under Caliphate control, and eventually formed into a collection of Islamic Republics under the aegis of the Middle Eastern Federation. But the non-Islamic members of the Islamic Republics (and the Muslims of other sects, and the Muslims of 'approved' sects who were more moderate and willing to treat the prior two groups as human beings), who in some cases formed a significant majority of the population of the 'Islamic Republic', very much welcomed the Britannians. To the point that even when the Black Rebellion forced the Britannians to pull out of Area 18 (they had been thrown into disarray and numerous units had been redirected to Area 11, leaving the other Areas thinly defended indeed), the Middle Eastern Union remained a Britannian ally. Judea, Babylonia, and the Parthian Free State never joined the United Federation of Nations.

Now this is apparently future history.

I mentioned India earlier. And India brings me around to the Chinese Federation, which, distressingly, is probably the least evil of all the major powers - the worst that can be said about China is that it is dysfunctional. It became too large to properly administrate, and corruption slipped into everything. While it cannot be called an act of malice so much as a lack of competence, the fact remains that the people of the Chinese Federation lie, mostly, well below the poverty line. Starving, much of the time.

I've studied China a very small amount, enough to come up with a bunch of obnoxious questions about dynastic succession if I put in the effort. At the moment my main feeling is that the overall description seems very plausible. Yes, China has run through a bunch of iterations of Bureaucracy, but they have run into some very similar problems. Anyway, unless there are some very good reformers, I'm going to say 'fairly typical for late stage in a dynasty' and call it even.

And, as noted, corruption - the sheer, unbelievably mammoth task required of governing the Chinese Federation requires a great deal of harmonious effort from many advisors. Which leaves many opportunities for people to slip in with whatever their particular objectives of the moment are. The ruler cannot keep an eye on everything. (This problem exists in Britannia as well, but Britannia experiences much less difficulty with it, since the advisors and sub-rulers are usually lifted from the royal family, and thus have a vested interest in keeping the machinery of state functional. One of the advantages to polygamy, I suppose - they have enough members of the royal family to do that)

I dunno, quite a few of the Chinese emperors have been effectively polygamous, and have put relatives in high positions, and still run into bunches of problems. I'm going to call this a handwave, and accept it.

As for Japan, well, the course of the war became apparent, but before China could push across into Japan itself, the Emperor took action to save his nation. He assumed direct, personal responsibility for the war, and surrendered himself to Jiang, as a sacrifice to end the war and prevent the counter-invasion of Japan. He expected execution for the many crimes his men had committed, though Jiang, in the interests of diplomacy and humanitarianism, simply kept him to live out his last years in polite imprisonment

I think I've already talked some my reaction to this part of the infodump in some of our earlier discussions of the rebellion in Japan.

Britannia then proceeded to equally share the sakuradite among all nations of the world, and increased the proportions with their more efficient mining procedures - meaning that the practical, economic interest the other states held in an independent Japan was gone. And as previously covered, nobody really liked them, so the moral call for intervention was more of a whisper. Now Britannia held hostage the significant majority of the world's sakuradite supply - nobody could attack them, or it would be cut off. Anyway, we've gone on about Britannia before, you needn't hear it again.

Plus, this section started with,' yes, Britannia is an evil, but I should mention these other guys'.

As far as the resistance movements in Japan go. Well, I approve of their goals, but these are people who blow up office buildings to make statements. Of course, that new one on the scene hasn't done anything like that thus far, and does not seem likely to... and you heard. Wondrous.

Maybe Archer can figure it out now?

Yes, that was the quick tour of this world's evil. Though it and more was present in your own world, as well. I believe you may have focused too heavily on the supervillains - because the truth is, there are many injustices and horrors continuing every day without villains delivering hammy lines and displaying supernatural powers. The idea that the world is at peace is a fiction that can only be believed by the fortunate.

I see much truth here in general.

Oh, and I forgot to mention Australia. While its people have neither initiated nor suffered any iniquities of note, their wildlife merits mention, so long as the topic of 'evil' is at hand.

Don't forget Antarctica.

It was commented on TVTropes that they make the perfect accompaniment to Lelouch's intense ham.

a) Gundam folks would be good at making mecha pretty enough to forget everything else.
b) Slash-Hakens or however that is spelled are neat.
c) the landspinner or whatever the spur with wheels is makes my inner engineer recoil slightly less.

First thing to note is that the Church doesn't actually exist. Christianity exists, but never swelled to its vast size - Christianity's 'big break' in our history came through adoption by a Roman emperor... whose power base was in the British Isles... about two hundred years after Rome's fall in the War of Kings timeline. The only 'superpower Semitic religion' is Islam, though druidism is still popular in Britannia, and Zalmoxism (a Romanian religion prior to the region's annihilation by Rome - the region is, in this verse, still under its original name, Dacia) is the closest in-universe analogue to Christianity as 'Europe's religion', though distinctly smaller.

This modern druidism, or the original version which was human sacrificey enough that the Romans of the time couldn't coopt it?

(Anya managed to get barebones instruction because she's an oddball case and her geass
access is only through a possessing spirit, but her instructor still freaked and tried to kill her when he figured it out. He was better at magecraft. She's a knight - she's better at killing.)

This isn't Archer is it?

There were originally thirteen Codes (and thirteen Thought Elevators). People who've tried this sort of scheme tend to get sealed away by varying means since one of the participants is immortal unless someone manages to yoink the Code, so there are only a few Codes (CC's and VV's, for instance) still circulating, and only nine Thought Elevators still functional (battle damage, mostly, though not always). (New Hampshire, underwater in the Caribbean, Antarctica, Kaminejima, southern Africa, under London, Iran, Kazakhstan, and Russia)

Hmm. Russia is perhaps due to fall by the time Charles and Marianne try to pull that off. Which leaves seven of nine under Britannian rule.

The French that kicked the whole thing off wouldn't have gotten all vengeful. But, well... the revolutions they started in other European states... had the spectacularly bloody French Revolution as their only example. So yeah. There would definitely have been a mad scramble to get out, especially by anyone who considered themselves to be a 'likely target'.

I'm more inclined to think it a matter of similar revolutions having similar results, rather than merely being a matter of example or implementation. I remember reading as a youngster a book by a Crane Brinton called something like Anatomy of a Revolution.

Hm. Yeah, that does look like a good paradigm. They may even still do it. We don't really get a lot of information on how policing is handled among the non-Honourary population (though the Honouraries go under the Britannian system, with Britannian officers), if it's handled at all. Given CGverse's tech paradigm, I'd say machine language translation ought to be pretty damn good, but 'good enough to do police work' is another question.

They have to handle it a certain amount. Applying police to a population is the big method for hunting down organizations raising fighters from them, and operating fighters within them.

Police records, human and paper, are very important for such. The paper records anyone with access can use, and building a database of people is something that one should do when starting such procedures. Tokyo city, as the capital and the stronghold of the old central government, would probably have had a robust computer based database, that would have given the invaders a solid foundation to build on for locking down the city. Military databases might have been built with a self destruct, and rural and outlying areas may well have had more erasable or burnable paperwork. Experienced police officer also have good records in their heads, if they will use them. In poorer and lower populated areas, it would be easier for burned policed stations and officially collaborating police officer who are defectors in place to the rebellion to keep a looser Britannian grip.

Possibly, though given the overall-horrendous quality of troops the terrorists tend to put out, it seems like that's fairly rare. Or like the Britannians have done a good job at keeping it cut down. Hard to tell whether that's a lack of funds, a lack of teachers, or a lack of time.

Fanaticism and skill are different things, and some Japanese patriots might be biding their time. Kids can be useful fanatics for sheer lack of experience, but that also tends to make them less useful. People sometimes use child soldiers because their life experience prevents them from recognizing losing situations, flawed propaganda, or from being able to get out and away.

Fanatics continuing to fight what an outside perspective would suggest is a losing battle might be a reference to our WWII.

Competent rebels may have been a higher priority than the incompetent. In the real world, the 'force a crackdown so bad that the population raises the flag of rebellion' types tend to end up just annoying the population into sticking with the government.

Also, the First and Second pacific are two losses in a row, which might well be extremely demoralizing. One of the big things with the Emperor of Japan is the whole direct male descent going back umpteen years. (The joke is that they have a magic y chromosome.) That sort of loyalist might have given up when there was no son to succeed the old Tenno. Suppose one knew that Lelouch had survived, and wanted to set him up with a daughter or other close female relative, or some other such scheme.

Also, there are potential regional differences. Tokyo is deep in central government control, and heavily urban. It is actually fairly difficult to run a covert movement of that sort out of urban areas. (Despite what some communists claim about it being THE way to do such things.) Basically, there are too many people around to terrify and control into keeping the secret, and too many people moving around.

Villages out in the country apparently work much better. This might especially be the case if there are enough ninjas floating around between the wars to set up and hide a bunch of hidden villages.

I see pretty clear evidence from the first part of R1 that there are huge regional differences.

I'd suggest, partly in jest, that maybe what happened in canon was a combination of 'guided anti tank mine' and 'Grave of the Fireflies'. Seriously, the Elevens probably are not mistreated badly enough for the occupation force to have experienced killing that many youngsters in the invasion.

From what I've seen in the first season, I have doubts that the Britannians killed really huge amounts of the population in the invasion and early stages of the occupation. I'm just not seeing the level of routine cruelty and slaughter for that. On the other hand, I have also doubts that they've put a sensible amount of effort into Eleven oriented education and police work.

(Note that how the education system that is set up can also be fairly important for securing a conquest.)

Random stuff mostly from watching eps 1-17 of R1.

Comment about the bit where Lelouch meets his father after his mother's death: Charles must be a big man to

scare a kid that way.

Comment about Cornelia's Saitama massacre: I think there is a place for slaughter, but the Britannian officers don't sound to me like they know what they are talking about. Again, your offense is the police. I guess they might be from Cornelia's command, and new to the task, but still...

General Comments: Lelouch is a Char. Again, I note huge regional variations in the security situation. Geass is partly of the Tokusatsu genre. This explains several aspects of the series that would otherwise be puzzling, such as the Zero 'Hammieness'. So, Tokusatsu, Gundam, and CLAMP. It also seems that Geass has trimmed back some of the stuff that bugs me about Gundam and CLAMP. Is Suzaku a Sue in a Zaku?

I like the detail of the straightjackets. IIRC, they used to be used in the US Prison system. Still, kind makes me think it might be fun to do a Geass fic with the Auburn system, chain gangs, or a bloodhound chase.

Arthur is a funny name for a cat, considering Aturia.

Episode fourteen or so makes me want to rethink some of what I've said about Shirley and guns. On the one hand, I rather tools be used properly and skillfully. On the other, some of those shots I am unsure about wishing properly lethal. On the gripping hand, that plotline is AU by now, IIRC.

The picture of young Kallen in the first ending is heartbreaking. Watching that ending for the first time, with the knowledge I had of the series... Ouch.

I like that Lelouch is using non-mindcontrol methods in this fic.

Lesse, you had a comment about how European knight fighting methods often integrated grappling techniques? I had some thoughts about having read about Samurai and ancient Greek grappling. Also, as far as unarmed combat goes, armor can block strikes and cause throws to vary. Grappling and joint techniques work around the skeleton and will still be useful on enemies with and without armor. One can only train against so many variations of armor, so if a wide variety is possible, train techniques that can be used without it mattering so much.

Silly thought about a way to fill in between the lines in Renya. Renya might be a direct male line descendent of the Japanese Imperial throne. Claire might end up the next Empress of Britannia. Supposing they end up paired together, perhaps Lelouch has a legitimate claim on the throne of Japan.

Also, if first Pacific is cognate to wWII, the fictional Edajima Heihachi, Principal of Otokojuku, might be in his thirties. I can see him running Otokojuku as a place for training folks who end up as rebels, or as a place for training folks who end up as honorary Britannians. Silly silly thought, likely entirely useless for this fic.

As is the question, if Elevens are Japanese, what are Fifty-ones?

Milly's Guts spell reminds me of SRW.

Old Silly Thoughts: Switzerstralia and the Liberty Optimus Prime Big Guy Knightmare. Thomas Paine marrying a noble mage refugee in Switzerstralia, and having descendents.

I've found threads saved for Art of Love; Art of Death through chapter four, and The Shadow on the Other Side of the Mirror through chapter four. Looks like the Nanoha/X-Com and the WWII Grail war got eaten entirely.