65VII: Interlude
Great Britannia: An Anthology of Britannian Culture by Lysander Watts
St. Darwin's Day
"St. Darwin Day, or St. Darwin's Day, is one of the premier holidays in the Holy Britannian Empire. It is used to honor and commemorate the life and works of Charles Darwin, whose philosophies are found in every corner of Britannian society.
Born in Alwintown, Pennsylvania, Charles Darwin would become one of the most decorated scientists and philosophers in human history. Known as a bright and inquisitive child, he would go on to study at the Imperial Academy of the Natural Sciences in New York.
Living in a time of religious turmoil and disruption, Darwin sought his own answer as to why humans came to be, and the purpose of life itself. Commandeering a steam boat owned by his friend and patron, Earl Jeremiah Wardes, he set sail to travel the world and investigate other living beings.
Famously, he came upon the Galapagos Islands, in present day Area Six, and discovered various different types of birds on the one island. They each possessed different biological characteristics, such as beak type, that enabled them to consume their preferred form of sustenance. He used evidence from that visit and others to publish his ground breaking findings in 1859, On the Origin of Species.
Although the book would be banned for many years in the more religious nations of Europe, it was quickly adopted in Britannia. Pope Pius XI had been feuding with the reigning Emperor at the time, and the perpetually excommunicated Britannian royals began to abandon religion altogether. Instead of god, they pointed at natural selection and evolution as to the reason why they, and Britannia were at the top of the 'food chain'.
The philosophy would be used as a reason for why the Empire should continue to expand and subjugate lesser nations, for it was their right as the superior people.
Today one can observe brilliant fireworks shows and festivals all across the empire. Since its creation in 1978, the Pendragon Fireworks Festival on St. Darwin's Day has been the largest of its kind in the entire world. Children can be observed running around with their families to visit the various booths showcasing foods, and products, from all over the empire. Of course, the highlight of the night is when the Emperor delivers his St. Darwin's Day Speech, just after the penultimate fireworks display. Millions tune in to listen to the ideas and philosophies of Charles Darwin, created all those years ago."
Morocco - March 16th, 2016 a.t.b, 227 RY - Rabat
Lelouch vi Britannia - Eleventh Prince, Seventeenth in line to the throne
"Gentlemen. Enough, please." Lelouch held his hand up and silenced the officers.
He let out a sigh and shook his head. This meeting had been going on for hours and was devolving into something entirely unproductive. His eyelids began to feel like leaden weights were being attached to them, growing heavier with every passing minute.
"But it's a matter of safety!" The blonde officer broke the short-lived silence as he continued trying to argue his point.
The man's will had not dampened even after being met with rejection time and time again. His eyes seemed to be immune to gravity as the wide, alert blue eyes remained infuriatingly consistent. It had to be pills. He couldn't imagine having that level of energy, even in a youthful man, without some level of substance use.
'Performance enhancers' were common in the military, especially among the upper ranks. Abundant men of ambition, and not enough available promotions, left them wanting every possible edge.
A daily dose of amphetamines is as good as being the son of a Baron. That was one of the sayings bandied about during his time at boot camp. Lelouch didn't even mind it. If his officers wanted to pump themselves with chemicals to enhance their performance, why should he complain?
However that 'extra energy' was now biting him in the ass.
This needed to be dealt with before he unceremoniously fell asleep inside the Mobile Base.
"Enough, Major." Leaning forwards in his plush chair, he bore his gaze into the impudent young officer. "We are not segregating a quarter of the city away from its inhabitants in some futile pursuit of security."
The man's mouth began to twitch, it was obvious his self control had long been depleted, and he was preparing to retort.
Lelouch refused to give him any more opportunities. "If one more word comes out of your mouth, you will find yourself on the first truck to Tangier."
The Major's self control reasserted itself, clearly frightened by the prospect of being dismissed to the 'graveyard shift'. It seemed his cause had been what had kept him going and, as soon as he realized the futility, his drained body sagged down into his seat.
Perhaps it had been adrenaline, and not amphetamines, which had kept him going? Was a conversation with him really so similar to battlefield combat? It might prove interesting to think about, but, only at a later date.
He decided to throw the defeated man a bone. It wouldn't do to have his officers stop offering ideas in fear of reprisal. Despite what Monica teased, he did pay attention to what those outside the Royal Family had to say.
"Dietrich." It was his greatest plan yet to have the names of his officers on a placard in front of where they sat.
Adrian Dietrich, the laminated little sign, in front of the spirited blond, read.
"I am willing to examine a more well thought out, written," Lelouch stressed the word in fear the man would jump back up and begin speaking, "proposal submitted at a later date."
Now that he was dealt with...
"All right." He shook his head vigorously in what could be interpreted as a nod. Although, in reality, it was a way to stretch the aching muscles in his neck. After brushing away a few silken, strands of dark hair that had fallen in front of his eyes, he prepared to address the gathered officers. Hopefully for the final time tonight.
"The closing matter for this meeting will be the issue of Fez, and surrounding cities, in the eastern interior." Lelouch jabbed an index finger towards one of the Staff Officers who quickly pressed a few buttons on his computer keyboard.
A map of Morocco appeared on the central tactical display. Five large dots, indicating cities, appeared across the country. The major objectives were Tangier, Rabat, both outlined in blue, Fez, Casablanca, and Marrakesh, those three outlined in red.
"I am granting General Alwin the use of XIII, and XIV corps to subjugate the east. Along with them he will have the use of three Knightmare Units, 'Sigma', 'Epsilon', and 'Bellum'." The finality in his tone made it clear, this wasn't yet another topic 'to be discussed'. No, this was him informing them of already made plans about to be set into motion.
"I intend to advance on Casablanca as soon as possible. By the end of March we should have the vast majority of Moroccan food production under our control. At that point the campaign is as good as over." He stood up from his chair, the joints cracked in his back, followed by a blissful sensation. "That is all. Dismissed."
He probably should have been a little more detailed and meticulous about the planned operation, but he couldn't find the strength to carry on the meeting for much longer. Best to wrap it up before diving into anything long, and drawn out. Even his dismissal had come out as half a yawn, which was rather telling.
Some of the men looked a bit put off by the it, but fearing the same potential fate as Dietrich, they relented. The longtable, and the mobile base as a whole, was quickly vacated by the departing officers. The ones commanding the eastward bound divisions left the quickest to make preparations for the departure.
Lelouch bid his goodbye to Alwin, who likely had a long night ahead of him, and made his way towards his quarters in pursuit of blissful sleep.
Settled inside of his comfortable emperor sized bed in the Mobile Base, surrounded by soft silken blankets and plush, cotton pillows on all sides, he finally had the opportunity to relax and unwind. Now that the meetings had ended, for today, no more reason existed to force himself to stay awake and alert.
He sighed in satisfaction as the warm grip of oblivion began to envelop his consciousness. The surroundings darkened, and began to travel far outside his perception. Within moments of getting into the bed he fell aslee-
The world rushed back to him as sharp, cacophanus knocks rang out against his metallic, reinforced door in quick succession. The noise produced was piercing and high, far too distracting for him to ignore.
What god awful, agent of pure evil wanted his attention now? Ripping the covers off of him, he stood and turned on the light before approaching the door.
There were very few people who had the security clearance to even approach his personal quarters anymore. After the recent attempt on his life, via bomb, the protection around him had grown tenfold. He no longer took up residence in the former King's palace, instead he stayed inside of the heavily guarded G-1 Mobile Base. Officers had to make appointments with his new secretary, the Lieutenant Ashley Rodgers, to meet with him now.
The sooner he got rid of this person, the sooner he could return to his slumber.
Squinting at lights, he pulled the door open at the precise time the person waiting outside, Monica, had begun to attempt another series of knocks. Her smooth hand, curled into a fist swiped through air as nothing was there to stop its course. She stumbled towards Lelouch, momentarily off balance, before righting herself, with embarrassment written all over her flushed face.
His weariness did not detract from the comedic display.
"Is there something you needed?" The words came out breathily, uttered simultaneously with a sigh, and any amusement he felt did not show on his stern face.
Monica straightened her back and cleared her throat, coughing into a closed fist, before looking up at Lelouch. "I wanted to talk to you about your security."
The very word security brought a scowl to his face. "Just what has Dietrich been telling you? I have heard more than enough about this for my lifetime. It is astonishing that I should have to repeat this fact; I am not relocating 70,000 people from the city!"
Unperturbed by his sudden loss of temper, she instead adopted an expression of pure confusion. Her eyebrows came closer together and her mouth opened a couple of inches. "What?"
Oh right. She hadn't been a part of the meeting.
"Well, anyways." Lelouch spoke quickly, trying to avoid the revelation of his mistake. "If not that, what else are you talking about?"
All was forgotten if Monica's face was anything to go by, and she spoke in the same tone she had started with.
"Oh, well um, Jerry and I have been talking-"
"Jerry?" He delivered the question in deadpan.
"Jeremiah, I mean, I just call him Jerry because he starts scowling and his face puffs up, it looks kind of like an orange by the way, and he starts to scold m-" Lelouch couldn't help but recoil at the rate of her speech, and what the hell was she talking about? It certainly didn't sound like anything that warranted her waking him up in the middle of the night.
"Monica… Maybe this isn't the best time for this discussion? How about you bring this back up in the morning?" He tried to be placating, however it accidentally came out as aggravation.
She shook her head furiously. "No, no! I'm sorry! Look, I'll be concise. You. Bomb. Assassination. Dead. Guards. Need. More." She bit her lip in search of more words to throw in. "Uh… You. Dead. Bad?"
All that was left for him to do was to stare at her, absolutely baffled. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and sucked in copious amounts of air before letting it all out in a long sigh.
"You know what, just come in." Lelouch turned from Monica and headed deeper inside of his, suddenly invaded, room. He sat down on a corner of his large bed, hands placed on soft, silken sheets that he wished he could rest his head on instead.
She stepped inside of the room, closing the door behind her, and sat down in the solitary leather armchair besides his cluttered work desk.
"Now Monica…" He began softly, and slowly, as if he were speaking to a child half her age. "Please explain things in full sentences."
"Right… You need actual bodyguards for the future, people whose sole duty is to protect you." She explained.
Well that was at least a more rational proposal than what Dietrich had suggested.
"I'm surrounded by tens of thousands of soldiers every waking day whose sole duty is to die at my command." He pointed out.
"Yes, but what if it's some disgruntled officer, or a bribed soldier, or anything? Even if you only get injured, just imagine how terrible that would be!" Her voice intensified and grew more emotionally charged as she continued speaking.
Lelouch was a little touched by the concern, although he still doubted the necessity of it. "Unless it puts me into a coma, I can still order you, and everyone else around just fine from a hospital bed. Not to mention, Alwin is capable of carrying out my tasks."
Monica's long, blonde hair flew all around her as she shook her head. "No! Just think beyond the campaign, about life in general! Even your sister, Princess Cornelia, she has an entire knighthood order dedicated to her safety."
He was silent after the outburst, however she looked at him and anxiously waited for him to speak. After a few moments had passed, he finally gave in and sighed. "Just when did my subordinates become so insufferable with their tenacity and stubbornness?"
He smiled at the girl who was leaning forwards, dangerously close to the edge of her seat. "This isn't some sort of power play to get appointed as my Knight, is it?"
Although he had intended it to be teasing, she took the accusation of underlying motivations seriously and immediately began spouting her denials.
"No! Of course not!"
"Good. You know what gets said about a male royal and a female Knight right? What with the Knight needing to be close at all times." Lelouch smirked at her as Monica's face began to turn red with the implication. "Or perhaps that's why you've decided to barge into my room in the middle of the night while I'm heading to bed?"
"You're the worst." She huffed with a flushed face. "I can't believe I was concerned with your safety."
He laughed and moved to properly get into bed, as she stood and headed for the exit. "Make sure to lock the door once you leave. It would be a shame to get assassinated because of your negligence."
"A shame..."
"Oh, and Monica?" She turned her head back towards him from where she was just outside the room, one hand already pushing the door closed.
"...Yes?"
"I'll think about your proposal."
She gave him a little smile and closed the door.
He once again prepared to fall back into the sweet, sweet release of sleep that had eluded him for so long.
"Wait!" A muffled voice yelled from outside the door. "Which proposal!? Do you mean the Knight of Honor or some other thing?"
Lelouch forced his eyes to stay shut and pulled the covers up, over his head, to block out as much noise as possible. The forces of the outside world would not pull him away from his desperately needed rest once again. He didn't care if a reenactment of the Great Fire of Rome was occurring in Rabat. Sleep came first.
Outside Rabat
Jeremiah Gottwald
He wondered if he had displeased his prince in some way.
Jeremiah used to have quite the future ahead of him. Fresh out of the academy, his father had 'earned' him a spot in Empress Marianne's personal guard. It was well known that the best way to advance in Britannian society was to ingratiate yourself with royalty, even the so called 'commoner empress' would do.
He quickly came to respect the fiery and vivacious young empress who mentored him in matters of Knightmare combat. What had begun as a way to climb up the ranks, turned into actual loyalty for both her, and her children.
Lady Marianne's assassination was a turning point in his life. He mourned her death for as long as was proper publicly, and still to this day privately. Jeremiah was more than willing to carry on her legacy by guiding and protecting her two young children, Prince Lelouch, and Princess Nunnally. However within days of the assassination he learned that Prince Lelouch had been exiled, his title stripped from him.
Suddenly he was left in Pendragon with no remaining Vi Britannia to pledge himself to. He had become a servant without a master, a knight without a lord.
Still, his father being a Margrave ensured that his career was far from over. He received an officer's command in the Britannian Military and participated in the short Second Pacific War. Having had exclusive Knightmare training, with Lady Marianne, he distinguished himself on the battlefield and garnered a promotion to Major by the war's end.
When the order came in from Prince Lelouch's elder siblings to search for the missing brother and sister, he threw himself into the task. Countless nights went by, with Jeremiah surviving on copious amounts of coffee, as he tried to discover the pair. He sifted through the ruins of old Japan, desperately hoping to at least find their bodies for the sake of a proper burial. Miraculously one day the word went out that a squad, Renfeld's he still remembered, had found the missing prince and his sister.
Alive.
Unfortunately Jeremiah hadn't been the one to find the boy, but he didn't let selfishness get in the way of his jubilation. The recovered royals were shipped back to Pendragon to have their fates decided on by the Emperor, while Jeremiah remained in Area Eleven.
Viceroy Aster had recently been appointed in the area, and he was looking at Jeremiah to become a major military official in the country. Even his friends, Viletta, and Kewell, were nudging him forwards as the leader of their, recently formed, 'purist faction' that had quickly become a powerful force in the Viceroy's regime. He might have obtained Bartley's rank of General, with the esteemed title of Margrave to back it up. Second only to the Viceroy, that could have been his future.
But he turned it all down.
Jeremiah turned in his command and placed himself on the first flight back to Pendragon. His friends didn't understand. They had no notion of choosing loyalty to a liege lord over personal advancement. "Why connect yourself to some little prince who won't achieve anything? Why tie a lead weight to your career?"
He didn't listen, because he didn't care. Prince Lelouch could go on to be a socialite, or simply stay secluded and forgotten in Aries Villa, he would still follow him. It was the debt he owed to Lady Marianne, the debt he was intent on fulfilling through a lifetime of service to her blood.
The Prince had been wary when Jeremiah pledged himself to him, it would have been foolish not to be. However he was sorely lacking in allies solely dedicated to him in the capital. Cornelia and Schneizel might have had ulterior motives for bringing him back, as far as he knew. It was to Jeremiah's delight that the prince showed an interest in military affairs. It meant he could teach the young man everything he knew about commanding, and piloting a Knightmare.
Over time he had proven that his loyalty was second to none. He stunted his own career by six years to serve the Prince and did not regret it a single bit.
Which begged the question once more, had he displeased his lord in some way?
Being placed in some dark crossroads to inspect incoming farmers sending their goods to market was not where he should be. He was serving as a glorified toll booth operator. Jeremiah should be at His Highness' side, advising and defending him. He should be elsewhere, fighting in glorious battles to win victories and honors for Lelouch.
Admittedly there were no battles going on.
But still, it rankled him to be out here, not even in a Knightmare, inspecting carts and wagons filled with produce.
"This one's clear sir, just some fertilizer." The man had his entire face buried into the crook of his elbow as his free, gloved hand dug around inside the 'product'.
"Pretty sure we could tell by the smell Gibbons." Lionel Richard chuckled from besides Jeremiah.
"Just trying to be thorough cap."
"All right, you're free to go." Jeremiah spoke blandly, this was the 43rd cart thus far, and motioned for the man to proceed.
When the Moroccan gave him a confused look and said something in Arabic, Jeremiah sighed and motioned to the dark-skinned translator standing besides him.
The man, Yousef Zayed, repeated Jeremiah's words in the farmer's language, who quickly nodded and slapped his donkey on the ass, making it walk.
Perhaps seeing the scowl that Jeremiah wore on his face, Lionel nudged him and laughed. "Not very prestigious is it Major?"
"Of course not. But it's his Highness' orders, we must carry them out." Jeremiah replied, he was not about to openly display his grievances and defy Prince Lelouch in public.
"At least our shift's gonna be up soon eh? Can't wait to head back to base and have some more of that fine ass French wine we got."
He nodded, the wine was rather nice. The EU embargo had left Britannia rather dry as far as good alcohol went, luckily Morocco seemed to contain more than enough to sate the officers.
"Stay focused Richards. We can talk more about wine on the walk back." He replied.
"More like hobble, eh cap?" The corporal with the shit covered hand spoke up, before keeling over in laughter.
Lionel scowled and walked over, kicking the hyena-like Gibbons in the back, before immediately recoiling in pain. "Damn!"
The sight of the Captain hopping on one leg and clutching the other in his hands only served to intensify the corporal's amusement.
"I'm gonna kick your ass when this heals up Gibbons, you can bet your balls on it!"
It miffed Jeremiah a little that Captain Lionel Richards was here due to his injuries precluding him from any intensive work, whereas he was perfectly healthy. Eyeing the corporal rolling around on the muddy ground, still wearing the filthy glove, Jeremiah hoped that his prince would come to his senses sooner than later.
Sighing at his inability to retaliate towards his comrade, Lionel turned to Jeremiah and pointed at the incoming cart. "I'll handle this one."
The cart was larger than the other ones Jeremiah had encountered so far today. It was being driven by two donkeys who seemed like they were having trouble moving it along.
The man walking besides it appeared about 40 years of age. His black, short hair, was tinged with paler sections. The story was the same for his graying beard which hung as a goatee from the man's weary, lived-in face. A harsh, pink scar extended from the left side of his temple, down to his jaw. His brown skin was dark and leathery, telling a tale of a man who had been in the sun for most of his life. Complete with dirty, loose clothes, he looked the part of a farmer.
Strangely, though, Jeremiah felt something off in the way he held himself. It was hard to describe, even to himself, but most of the farmers had a passive stance and were quite wary of the Britannian officials. This man was eager, maybe even aggressive, as he walked ahead of his cart to greet them.
"Hello!" The man spoke in rough, broken english, though it was understandable.
"Do you speak English?" Jeremiah asked the man, wondering if the greeting was simply a one off thing.
"Just food!" Was the man's strange reply.
"Just food?" Jeremiah repeated slowly.
"Just food!"
He turned to Yousef. "Ask him what he's carrying, and I don't want to be told 'just food'."
The translator nodded and stepped towards the man, asking him something in Arabic. The man replied and Yousef turned back towards Jeremiah. "He says he's carrying fruits. Mainly oranges, but clementines, grapes, and apples too." A smile slowly spread across Yousef's face. "In other words, just food."
This Moroccan bastard was pulling his leg! He could see the mirth in Yousef's eyes. Unfortunately the translator was necessary to carry on their inspections, still, he wanted to walk over and sock him in the gut.
"Looks like that's true." Came the voice of Lionel as he dug through the man's cart. "Hell of a lot of oranges Major, no wonder these donkeys look half dead."
"Just food!" The man's voice and words were starting to aggravate Jeremiah at this point.
"Gibbons, watch him. I'm going to go take a look at the cart myself." He ordered the corporal who had, finally, disposed of the glove.
Walking over to where Lionel was, Jeremiah saw nothing wrong with the man's initial assessment. The top of the cart was absolutely covered with the oranges. He dug his hand deeper and pulled out bushels of grapes, apples, and even strawberries.
Wait, strawberries?
Now Jeremiah was no farmer, and damn any man who joked about it, but his father's estate had a large Orange Farm on the property. He remembered asking one of the farmhands one day, sick of eating oranges, why they couldn't grow strawberries instead? The woman had replied and told Jeremiah that the climate necessary to grow oranges and strawberries were almost completely different, one was suited to tropical, warm conditions, the other to cooler ones.
What kind of a farmer would have such a strange assortment of fruits that couldn't possibly have come from the same farm? Not to mention, an experienced farmer should know the right kind and amount of animals to easily pull his cart along. It just didn't make sense.
"Lionel, I'm going to take the back off of this cart and empty it out."
The Captain was surprised by the announcement and looked at him, confused. "Why? This is the last one for our shift, sooner we do this the sooner we head back."
Jeremiah ignored him. "Stand aside." He firmly grabbed the flimsy wood protecting the food from falling out and began to pull on it. Almost immediately the cart began splintering as one of the connected sides came off.
The man, a few feet away, suddenly ran over to Jeremiah and waved his hands around in the air. "Just food! Just food!" He shouted.
Jeremiah scowled at Gibbons. "I thought I told you to watch him Corporal? Detain him."
The soldier was perhaps a bit caught off guard by Jeremiah's sudden harshness towards the farmer, however he quickly rushed to follow through with the order. He grabbed the man's hands out of the air and pinned them against his back, restricting movement.
He plied off the remaining section of the wood and stepped aside as the spherical oranges tumbled out. Jeremiah sifted through the remaining fruit, shoving the leftover strawberries and grapes onto the dirty ground. When it was all done he was left with a bare, plain plank of wood covering the bottom of the cart.
"Uh… whoops?" Gibbons said sheepishly, eyeing the apparently innocent farmer he was detaining.
"What were you thinking Jeremi-" Lionel was cut off, as he suddenly lifted the loose plank of wood to reveal another compartment underneath.
Assault rifles, grenade launchers, submachine guns, handguns, and hundreds of cases of ammunition covered the actual floor of the cart. Some of the guns were old and weathered, whereas others looked sleek, black, and shiny. It was no wonder the beasts of burden were having such a hard time carrying the cart, the arsenal likely weighed more than the actual fruit itself.
Jeremiah turned and gave Lionel a harsh glare. "You were saying?"
The captain could only gape and offer a mumbled apology.
Turning towards the detained Moroccan Jeremiah could see the man's eyes widen as he tried to back away from Jeremiah, only to find himself stopped by Gibbons' stern grip. Realizing there was no escape the man had tensed up in fear.
"Keep a good grip on him, we'll be doing interrogations later." Jeremiah ordered Gibbons, who had realized the seriousness of the moment and sobered up. The corporal nodded and tightened his grip on the 'farmer', if the man's wince was anything to go by.
He pulled off the handheld radio from his belt and held it up to his mouth. "This is Major Gottwald, I am ordering a complete cession of any carts travelling into or around Rabat. Unless the Prince himself says otherwise, DO NOT let anything inside of the city. Make any travelling farmers stand outside for the entire night if you have to." He returned the machine to his hip and turned to Lionel.
"Get some of the squads further down to help you secure the weapons."
The Captain nodded. "And you, Major?"
"I need to go inform the Prince and the rest of high command."
Hopefully his liege didn't mind being woken up, it was important after all.
-
A.N
I hope you guys liked this chapter! I feel a lot better about this one than I did about Ch.6, so hopefully that's a good sign.
It's rough but I'd say we're getting to the halfway point of the story's first arc. I have a general idea for how that'll go, although nothing is really set in stone. Thanks to everyone who have following the story so far, I really appreciate it.
7th Kingdom: Thanks. I'm trying to give as many chances as possible to showcase other characters. It won't be very entertaining if the entire story is just Lelouch and a crowd of faceless soldiers. Not sure about when/if the personal guard will be formed, and who will be on it. Although I can see it happening by the end of this first arc.
Guest: To be honest I'm not quite sure. I haven't seen much of Akito but I can definitely see circumstances where characters like Akito or Leila may play a role, however it probably won't be anytime soon.
Redxlord: ;)
Neongnome: Yep. For now it's just been fighting against infantry and tanks, so there really isn't very much difficulty in the combat. Ofc things are far from over in this campaign. I'm glad you thought the tactics were good, I want to make sure I can match the military expertise Lelouch had in the actual show. I take a lot of inspiration from stuff like Lelouch of Britannia, which is by far the best war focused Code Geass fic out there.
xtremeknight58: Yeah, she's definitely on that level. The problem is that early on in Code Geass there really weren't any special knightmares or anything. Even things like the Lancelot and the Guren were developed and employed a year after where the story is atm. However she'll definitely be able to showcase her skills pretty soon in the future.
Mr. Q: True, if uses for him come up then Lelouch will certainly take advantage. Although for now his use is pretty much just to give Lelouch some publicity and fame.
Patjeeson: Thanks! I hope I can make the military stuff even better in future chapters.
OBSERVER01: That's actually not a bad idea. I might done it this chapter if I hadn't written it before your review lol. I think I might make something similar happen anyway pretty soon.
Tertius: I might have dates mixed up but Akito's participation came later on in the interlude between R1 and R2. So that would be a year or two after where the story is currently. Of course things could happen earlier than canon, though I can't say for sure. I definitely think he and Leila are interesting characters to employ, and will almost certainly be used if I have an EU POV.
Doommajor: Yeah, I think some fight scenes can be pretty boring just being seen from a tactical perspective. Hopefully including on the ground perspectives spicens things up.
Prodigal Knight: First off, I love this review. There's so much meat in it. Honestly just from reading it you've given me a lot to think about, so thanks for that. You're right that there's no way Lelouch can somehow conquer Britannia with just one single, not even complete, Imperial Army. Lelouch broadcasting the Moroccan King's surrender, although it has very little actual meaning for the war, was a way to sort of introduce himself publicly to the Britannian citizens. He's been fairly unknown up until this command given to him by Cornelia, and he certainly wants to milk it as much as possible. The stuff on the senate is definitely seriously interesting, I think politics is definitely going to be big in the future. Right now Lelouch is pretty consumed with military affairs, but the campaign, and the war, aren't going to last forever. Considering Jeremiah took over control of Area Eleven after Clovis' death, I think the Purists are basically the #2 force driving Area Eleven. They were sort of defanged and dismantled by infighting thanks to the 'Orange' scandal. However they will certainly have a role to play once Lelouch does get to Area Eleven, however that might happen. Thanks for allowing me to inflate this story's word count by replying to a review as big as yours.