Chapter 21

Tokyo Settlement, August 2017

Alexander forced himself not to blush.

It had been a long time since he had attended a ball. The last one had been Princess Euphemia's sixteenth birthday cotillion; over a year ago. Since then, his duties had kept him far too busy; and been a fine excuse when he wasn't.

But there was no getting out of this one. Princess Cornelia had asked him to be Euphemia's chaperone, and her chaperone he would be.

The venue was the Antiquities Museum, one of many such institutes established by Prince Clovis during his tenure as Viceroy. The great hall was suitably grand, with its colonnaded roof, and suitable antiquities arranged around the walls. Had Alexander been alone, they would have provided a much-needed distraction.

But he was not alone. He was on the arm of Princess Euphemia, and that meant socializing. As the Deputy Vicereine, and a beautiful and charming young princess to boot, Euphemia had no shortage of company.

"You look tired, Alexander," Euphemia commented, as the latest group took their leave.

"It is not intentional, your highness," he replied, willing his face to look suitably aristocratic.

"Don't worry, this will be the last lot," Euphemia said, smiling. "The dancing will be starting soon."

Ah yes, the real dread of the evening. It had been a while since Alexander had danced, at least in front of people. The unfortunate incident at the Duchess of Idaho's ball had left him with a dread of such events. He had attended Euphemia's sixteenth birthday cotillion, but only because not doing so would have hurt her feelings; a deed he could never willingly commit.

Even so, the sight of Princess Cornelia in an actual, honest-to-goodness ball gown was not one he would soon forget.

"Just give me the first waltz, and I'll spare you the polka," added Euphemia, her eyes twinkling.

The polka. The horror of his childhood dance lessons. Having to twirl around the floor with a bunch of overexcited girls was bad enough; but all that hopping and bouncing? The thought still gave him the shivers.

"I am at your disposal, your highness."

Euphemia shot him one last smile before another group approached. This one consisted of two men, a woman, and a young girl. Alexander's heart skipped a beat, as he recognised the man leading them.

"My lord Manfredi," Euphemia greeted the man, as the group bowed or genuflected. "It's been too long since we saw you last."

"Russia keeps me very busy these days, your highness." Michel Manfredi, Grand Master of the Order of Saint Michael, touched his lips to Euphemia's signet ring, and then straightened up; a great broad grin on his face. He looked older than when Alexander had last seen him, but still full of life.

"And young Lord Waldstein!" Manfredi's eyes sparkled as he turned to Alexander. "A knight at last, and with time to attend balls."

"My lord Manfredi." Alexander bowed, then clasped his proffered wrist.

"Ah, but I must present my fine companions," Manfredi went on. "The Lady Maria Shaing and her children; Sir Shin Hyuga-Shaing, KCSM, and the Honourable Miss Alice Shaing."

"An honour, your highness," Lady Shaing said, smiling graciously. She was an elegant woman with long, honey-coloured hair and blue eyes, wearing a blue gown.

"The honour is mine, Lady Shaing," replied Euphemia fulsomely. "Will you be staying in Japan?"

Alexander blinked. Had she just called it Japan?

"For a time, your highness. My son, Shin," she gestured at the young man next to her, "has been assisting Lord Manfredi with some business in the homeland, and is currently returning to the front. My daughter and I hope to join them in Russia at a suitable point in the future."

Alexander scanned his eyes over Lady Shaing's children; while being careful not to look like he was doing so. Shin was a tall, thin young man of about his own age, with dark blue hair, green eyes, and a well-formed, rather narrow face. Alice was younger, maybe a year or so younger than Euphemia, with long blonde hair and her mother's blue eyes. She seemed nervous, and Alexander couldn't much blame her.

"I do hope we will see you again," Euphemia replied, smiling. "And you, Sir Shin, and Miss Alice."

"You do me honour, your highness." The young knight smiled an unsettlingly perfect smile.

"And I also, your highness," said Alice, blushing.

"Please excuse my sister, your highness," Shin interjected gently. "She is not yet accustomed to such occasions."

Alice's blush deepened, and Alexander found himself feeling sorry for her.

"I'm sure we'll change that," Euphemia said, smiling gently. "Lady Maria, Miss Alice, won't you both join me?"

She shot Alexander a smile, and then headed off, a delighted-looking Lady Shaing and a still-blushing Alice in tow; leaving him with Manfredi and Shin.

"Ah, girl talk time," mused Manfredi, grinning. "Good for them. But how are you, my young sir? I haven't seen you since you were small."

"It was the Grand Tournament at San Diego, my lord," replied Alexander, allowing himself to smile as he remembered. "You were present along with Princess Cornelia, my father, and General Bruckner."

"Ah, now I remember!" Manfredi grinned. "Not a bad tournament, that one. Feels like a dozen lifetimes ago. Another age."

It did. Alexander could remember that day quite clearly; and not just because it was the day he met Princess Euphemia. But it really did seem like a bygone era; a time that was innocent, and less worrisome. A time when he didn't know what he now knew, and felt no worse off for it.

"The world turns, and the wind blows, my lord," commented Shin. "After innocence comes experience, and with knowledge comes sorrow."

"Ah indeed," mused Manfredi. "But Sir Alexander, you must be wondering about young Sir Shin here; our newest Knight Commander."

Alexander glanced at Shin, and at Manfredi.

"I do not understand, my lord."

"Do not keep silent on my account, Sir Alexander," Shin said, smiling graciously. "I am not a biological son of the House of Shaing. I was born in Japan, into the most noble House of Hyuga, and was left adrift after its destruction. I was rescued from my wanderings by Lord Manfredi, and his good friend Lord Farnese."

"Andrea and I found him on the streets of Hong Kong," explained Manfredi. There was warmth in his eyes, and sorrow too. "Lord Shaing, who was a good friend of our movement, took him in and raised him properly. He died a few years back, and adopted Sir Shin in his will."

Alexander regarded Shin with amazement. A Japanese youth, adopted by a Britannian noble family, and welcomed into the ranks of Euro-Britannia, into the Order of Saint Michael no less! A Japanese, by all rights an Eleven, yet a full Britannian; yet carrying his old name.

How unlike himself. How unlike Alexander Waldstein, who never dared let anyone know he had once been Soran.

"Sir Shin, if I looked askance at you, I regret it," he said, offering his hand.

"You did not, Sir Alexander." Shin clasped his wrist, smiling that gracious smile.

"There, you're getting along famously!" laughed Manfredi, clapping them both on the shoulders; so hard that Alexander almost fell over. "Ah, it's too bad Sir Alexander. I should have liked to have you at my side. The Order of Saint Michael would be ten times the stronger for it."

"I agree," added Shin. with apparent sincerity. "Your reputation precedes you, Sir Alexander. I have heard good things said of your conduct in Africa, and here in Japan."

For a moment, Alexander was taken aback. He had called it Japan too; twice now.

"In Euro-Britannia, we do not use the Area system," explained Shin. "We feel it ungenerous to leave a country without a name."

"Which is why the Purists hate us!" cut in Manfredi, grinning.

"I am flattered my Lord, Sir Shin," Alexander replied, mastering himself. "But her Imperial Highness knighted me, and my place is at her side."

"Well, I suppose I can't compete with a princess," mused Manfredi, with a rueful snap of his fingers. "But if I have to lose you to a princess, I'm glad it's her. Our very own Queen of Knights."

"For all that I love and honour the Order of Saint Michael, I must confess a certain envy," admitted Shin, still smiling.

Alexander found himself suddenly uneasy. Shin's manner was perfectly pleasant, a little too much so. There was something about him, something he couldn't quite put into words. Almost…like a pit viper, coiled and still behind glass.

"And how is your father, by the way?" Manfredi asked, mercifully changing the subject. "He must be run ragged, managing Krugis and the Middle Eastern theatre."

"I fear I have not seen my lord father in some time," admitted Alexander. "We communicate by letters, mostly. He tells me all is well thus far."

"Well, be sure to thank him on my behalf," Manfredi said. "This war would be harder still without the Krugis route. The Siberian run gets damn cold in the winter, and that's without Sergei Smirnov and his Grey Bears."

Alexander nodded, understanding. Krugis was proving invaluable to the Britannian war effort, and not just for its soldiers. Under his father's leadership, Britannian and Krugisian troops had pushed up into the Caucasus, linking up with the Euro-Britannians in south-western Russia. This had allowed Euro-Britannian supplies and reinforcements to be shipped into their territory via Krugis; thus relieving pressure on the Trans-Siberian railway. This in itself was useful, as it allowed Siberia's raw materials – notably Sakuradite- to be efficiently shipped to Britannia; fuelling the war effort and keeping Euro-Britannia's coffers filled.

"I have heard of General Smirnov," he said. "One of the EU's better commanders."

"Oh, no denying it," replied Manfredi. "His Grey Bears are something else too. Cossacks, most of them."

"I though the Cossacks had joined Euro-Britannia?"

"Only some of them," Manfredi explained. His countenance had turned grim. "We got the Amur and Baikal Cossacks, and most of the Don and Volga Cossacks too. We'd have had a hard time without them, believe me. The Kuban, Danube, and Zaporizhian Cossacks are with the EU. It can get…messy sometimes."

There was a haunted look in his eyes, and Alexander wondered what he had seen.

"Hmmm…" Manfredi sniffed the air. "I do believe that's prime rib. I think I'll sample some before it disappears."

His grin returned with a vengeance, and he sauntered off towards the buffet tables; leaving Alexander alone with Shin.

"Would you care for a drink?" he asked.

"The punch, I think," replied Shin. "I don't always cope well with liquor."

Alexander acquired two glasses of punch, handed one to Shin, and they made their way to the grand balcony. There was a fine view of the settlement, its lights glittering in the darkness; and above it a waxing moon.

"I never imagined I would return to my old homeland," Shin said, gazing across at the settlement.

"I suspected that you might be Japanese," Alexander replied cautiously. "Your name implied it."

"Yes, this is the land of my birth." If Shin was offended, he made no show of it. "But you did not call me an Eleven?"

"Since Lord Manfredi does not use that term, I thought it more appropriate not to."

"That is most considerate of you, Sir Alexander." Shin took a sip of his punch. "Would that your consideration was the norm."

Alexander was unsettled. He could not quite read the man's tone.

"I don't quite follow," he replied.

"Words like Japanese and Eleven are political tags these days," said Shin, sounding a little embarrassed. "Which word you use is a sign of your political position. As Lord Manfredi said, we of Euro-Britannia do not care for the Area system, nor do we acknowledge it. To us, this land is Japan; as her highness graciously acknowledged. To others, especially Purists, this land is Area Eleven."

Alexander's heart sank. He understood what Shin meant, but he did not like the notion at all.

"Surely we are all soldiers of Britannia?" he insisted. "Surely these matters cannot divide us?"

"I wish it would not," said Shin, now with an air of sadness. "But it is human nature, I fear. We are not all so virtuous as yourself."

The compliment took Alexander by surprise. All the more so because he wasn't entirely sure it was a compliment.

"I cannot call myself virtuous, Sir Shin," he replied. "I aspire to honour, and hope to attain it."

"As I said, your reputation precedes you, Sir Alexander," Shin went on, with just the hint of a smirk. "You are officially the youngest person in Britannia ever to engage in lethal knightmare combat. As a mere boy, you fought alongside Princess Cornelia and Sir Gilbert Guilford to defend the Imperial Military Academy against terrorists."

Alexander felt his cheeks heat up. He did not much like being reminded of that terrible night.

"I won no glory that night," he said. "Nor did I do myself honour. I could have, should have, done better."

"You, a mere child, leapt into the cockpit of a knightmare frame," insisted Shin. "You raced into deadly battle, and saved Princess Cornelia from death. If that is not virtuous, then I wonder what is."

Alexander lowered his head, and drew a long breath.

"I confess myself curious, Sir Alexander," Shin went on. "What was it like, that night? How did it feel to fight, to kill?"

He stared into Alexander's eyes. There it was again; that strange shiver, as if a predatory bird was watching him from its perch.

"I…I cannot really say, Sir Shin," he replied awkwardly. "I don't remember much of it. I was acting on instinct."

And he had been. Just as he had been on the streets of Tehran, long ago in another life. He had taken food when he could get it, fought ruthlessly when he had to. All to stay alive.

"You paid no thought to the circumstances," Shin said, an edge to his tone. "You did what you had to do, whatever the consequences."

"Yes, that's right." And it was. "I couldn't die that day. I had dreams to fulfil."

"Dreams?" Shin let out a chuckle. "Do you still have dreams, even now? As a knight of the Second Princess? A Princess who might one day become Empress?"

Alexander narrowed his eyes.

"I don't care for that question, Sir Shin."

"I mean no offence, Sir Alexander. Only to make a suggestion." Shin sipped his punch again. "It seems to me that the second Prince and Princess have considerably more merit in them than their elder siblings. Does it not seem so to you?"

Alexander paused. For all his strange manner, Shin was not wrong. Princess Cornelia had a lot more direct experience of leadership and statecraft than her elder sister, Princess Guinevere. Guinevere was not without accomplishment, but she rarely strayed far from the capital; except to visit her villa estate in San Felipe.

The gap between Prince Schneizel and Crown Prince Odysseus, on the other hand, might as well have been the Grand Canyon. Odysseus was a kind and gentle man, who spoke from the heart, and was much loved for his good works. But Schneizel was Chancellor of the Empire, a brilliant strategist, and a skilled orator.

"Tell me then, Sir Alexander, do you still have a dream of your own?" asked Shin.

"A dream?"

"All men have dreams. Are you content to be as you are? Or is there something you wish to claim that is yet beyond your grasp?"

He chuckled, as if at a joke only he knew.

Alexander found himself wondering. All he had ever wanted, ever since that terrible day seven years ago, had been to serve Cornelia. To fight alongside his brother and sister knights. To defeat the enemies of Britannia. To repay his father for taking a mere street rat and remaking him into his son.

But was that really enough? Was he really content with all that? Just to be that?

"If I had to answer…" he said, faltering. "It would be to protect those I love. To make my father proud, and to show that I am worthy of his name. And to honour the memory of those long gone."

Lady Marianne's smiling face hovered in his mind's eye. And those of Prince Lelouch, and Princess Nunnally. Three smiles he would never see again.

"A simple dream, but noble for all that," mused Shin. He seemed amused. "It suits you well, Sir Alexander."

He finished his drink.

"You and I are very different, Sir Alexander Waldstein. But I admire you, for all that. I hope that you will defeat Zero soon, so that Princess Cornelia may join us in Russia, and we may fight side by side."

He offered his hand. Alexander clasped his wrist.

"I look forward to it, Sir Shin Hyuga-Shaing."

Shin gave him a smirk, and then strode away, leaving him alone.

Alexander stood by the parapet, wondering just what sort of man Shin Hyuga-Shaing really was. He carried himself like a noble and a knight, and Alexander could understand the confidence Lord Manfredi clearly had in him. He had a hard edge, though he supposed that was only to be expected in a knight who had seen many battles; especially in a place like Russia.

But that wasn't all. There was something…hidden about him, an aspect of himself he kept concealed. Alexander was vaguely aware of it, but only as a persistent niggle, like a warning of danger. This man was not all he seemed.

Yet for all that, was it all that strange? For all that he was a noble and a knight, the adopted son of a noble family, he was still Japanese. To many Britannians, he was an Eleven like all the others, and did not deserve to be called anything else. No doubt they would grind their teeth at the sight of him, furious that a mere Number had been granted Britannian citizenship, and risen to such heights.

And how would the Numbers feel? What would they think of such a man? A man for whom the usual rules had been broken. A man who had attained what they could only dream of attaining. Would they look upon him and feel inspired? Hopeful?

Or would they feel only hate?

Yes, that man had been hated. Hated by Britannians for rising above his allotted station, and reminding them of their own inadequacies. Hated by Numbers for jumping the queue, for being picked out and raised to heights unseen, by the very system that kept them down.

Yes, Shin Hyuga-Shaing was neither Britannian nor Number.

Like him.

He lowered his head, feeling suddenly very weary. What Shin had endured, he too should have endured. He too had been picked out, whisked away by a trick of fate, and remade into someone else. But he had been granted a new name, a new identity, while Shin still carried the burden of his old life. He still…

"Guess who!"

Alexander almost jumped, as a pair of soft hands covered his eyes. Hands he knew.

"Your highness, you startled me."

"You were being pensive again," retorted Euphemia, grinning at him. "But your time's up, Alexander. The dancing is about to start."

Alexander sighed, though he smiled. No getting out of it.

He drained his glass, and looked around for somewhere to leave it. As if on cue, a server appeared with a tray, and he set the glass upon it. He acknowledged the servant with a brief nod, then bowed to Euphemia. She giggled, genuflected, and laid her hand over his; letting him lead her back into the hall.

The music had started up, and a gap had opened up in the middle of the hall. All eyes were upon them, as Alexander led Euphemia onto the floor. It was all he could do not to blush.

"Don't worry," Euphemia whispered, as they faced off. "You've been practicing with my sister, after all."

Alexander sighed as he placed his free hand on her waist, and she placed hers on his shoulder. The waltz picked up, and Alexander recognised it; Strauss' Kunstlerleben.

They began their dance; in the formal style of the Imperial court. The lights around the hall turned down; leaving only the dance floor fully lit. Alexander fixed his eyes on Euphemia as they slowly twirled; the room spinning around them like a carousel.

"You're doing fine," Euphemia whispered, her lips barely moving, but still just loud enough for him to hear. She had long since mastered the art of the mid-dance tete-a-tete. "They're loving it."

Alexander felt himself relax a little. Cornelia could dance far better than he could, but her manner had been stiff, even a little nervous. But Euphemia was a natural; her steps light and effortless.

For a moment, he caught a glimpse of the Shaings. Lady Maria was smiling, obviously enjoying what she saw, while Shin was more reserved. Alice, meanwhile, was staring at them in utter adoration, hands clasped over her bosom; as if she had never seen anything so beautiful.

"Do you miss Cornelia, Alexander?" Euphemia asked.

"I am more than happy to be by your side, Princess."

"She ordered you to be here. Otherwise I'd be doing this with Darlton. Not that I mind, but it's been so long since we last danced."

And it had. The last time had been her sixteenth birthday cotillion; the night she and her mother had browbeaten Cornelia into wearing a dress. He had danced with both sisters that night; and it was a night he would not soon forget, or ever mind remembering.

"Alexander…can I ask you something?"

Alexander forced himself to concentrate, to maintain the rhythm.

"Of course, your highness."

Euphemia paused, and they danced on in silence for a few moments.

"I have a dilemma, and one I can't easily solve."

Alexander might have sighed, had he not seen the pain in her eyes. Whatever this was, it was bothering her.

"A dilemma?"

"There's a choice I must make," she said. "Everyone is pushing me to one choice, but it's not the choice I want. But I don't know if I can make that choice."

Alexander began to understand. He remembered that she had visited the Prince Clovis Memorial Art Gallery a few days earlier, with a view to choosing the winner for their art contest. No doubt she was under pressure to select a suitable entry, that was not to her liking.

His heart ached. She was so good at things like this. She was so good at being sociable, at being the kind of princess people wanted to see. But she was still so young, and she wasn't used to Royal duties at this level. She didn't know how to deal with people like that, how to get her way without appearing rude or domineering; how to resist those who pressured her to do what they wanted.

But for all that, there could be only one answer.

"Your highness, you must do what you think is right," he said, smiling. "You must do as your heart demands. If you do not, you will regret it always."

"Do you really think I can?" Euphemia asked, suddenly nervous. "Would you back me if I did?"

"You are yourself, and your honour is your own," he went on. "And I am at your service, always and forever."

Euphemia regarded him for a few moments with questioning eyes. Then she smiled.

"Hearing you say it…I feel braver for it."

Their dance came to an end; the hall erupting in thunderous applause. They stepped apart, and Alexander bowed.

"Thank you, Alexander," Euphemia, matching his bow with a deep curtsey.

"It was my pleasure, your highness," replied Alexander, straightening up.

"Now then!" Euphemia beamed. "Let's see if Lady Shaing would like to dance!"

(X)

Somewhere near Tokyo Settlement, Area 11

The warehouse door clunked shut, and Kaname Ougi sided with relief.

"Good evening, sir," the guard greeted him. He was one of the new members, a young man in the new black jacket of the Black Knights, and carrying a black-market carbine.

"Oh, uh, good evening," Kaname replied, bowing in reflex. "Any trouble tonight?"

"Not from the Britannians, anyway," the man replied, smiling an awkward smile. "There's kind of a bust-up going on in there."

"What about?" Kaname asked, his heart sinking. "I know I'm late, but I have a good reason for it."

And he did. Though he wasn't sure it was one he dared reveal to his comrades.

"It's not that sir," said the guard. "It's that Drak Zero brought in to check out the Guren. People aren't happy about it."

Kaname's heart sank even further as he remembered. Zero's new friend Gary Biaggi had recommended an arms dealer and expert to examine the Guren, and figure out where it had come from. Kaname had to admit, he was as curious about the machine's origins as anyone else. But the idea of letting an outsider, and a renegade Drakenlander at that, had ruffled a lot of feathers.

"I'd better go in," he said.

"Yes sir."

Kaname strode on through the warehouse office, and into the warehouse proper. The knightmares were lined up as usual, with a crowd gathered around the feet of the Guren Nishiki; Zero among them. He could see Kallen standing on the maintenance gantry, glaring down at someone in the open cockpit.

"Ougi!" Tamaki called out, grim-faced.

"Tamaki, what's the matter?" asked Kaname, striding up to join them. "Is that Biaggi's man up there?"

"Yeah, a friggin' Drak!" hissed Tamaki, glowering up at the Guren's cockpit. "But Zero said to let him try."

Kaname sighed. He had been present when Zero revealed his intention; of allowing one of Gary Biaggi's friends to take a look at the Guren. He hadn't been sold on the idea, and neither had the others. A complete outsider sniffing around their best knightmare? Could they trust such a man? And just who was this Gary Biaggi character anyway?

But Zero had insisted, and they had folded. The rank and file still loved Zero, and with good reason. He had gotten them funds and gear they could only have dreamed of before; and had led them to victory time after time. As the Black Knights, they had achieved more in a mere month than the old cells had for years.

But now they were uncertain. Now they were glancing at Zero, and muttering among themselves. Their trust was being stretched, maybe too far.

"You done in there?" asked Kallen.

"Yes my dear, I am."

The man straightened up, stepped past her and clambered down the gantry. He was of medium height and heavy-set, with black hair and a black beard; both greying. As he approached, Kaname could see his many scars, and a black scorpion tattoo on his left arm. His right arm was untouched, but there was something…strange about it.

"Did you find what I asked you to find, Mr Hassel?" asked Zero.

"Yes Zero, I did," replied Damien Hassel, sending Zero a most unsettling smile. He spoke with the unmistakeable drawl of a Drakenlander. "Now, the matter of my fee."

Kaname's heart clenched, as he felt his comrades bristle. But Zero took a black silk bag from his pocket, as easily as if he were pouring a cup of tea, and handed it over. Hassel opened the bag, and the assembled Black Knights stared as he drew out a finger-thin slip of gold. Hassel stared hard at it, fingering it in that strange right hand.

"Britannian, freshly recast," he said, bagging the gold and pocketing it. "Thank you Zero, that'll do nicely."

"There's more where that came from, if you're interested," Zero replied. "In the meantime, your report."

"Ah, where are my manners?" The man grinned. "Zero, that is a very nice piece of machinery you've got there. An unorthodox design, and in need of some polish, but very nice, and with a lot of potential. And yes, I'd stake my reputation that Rakshata Chawla designed and built it."

The hostility among the Black Knights faded, as they started whispering among themselves. Kaname felt his heart pound. Rakshata Chawla was one of the underworld's most famous engineers. Educated in Britannia, she had been connected to both the Indian underground and Peace Mark. Some claimed that she had no real allegiance to any group, and simply wandered between them as the mood took her.

"You'd better not be bullshitting," warned Tamaki. "I've heard of Rakshata Chawla. They say she charges through the nose."

"That she does my good sir, that she does," agreed Hassel. For a man surrounded by semi-hostile resistance fighters, his sang-froid was remarkable. "But worth it, I'm sure you'll find."

"Kallen, how's the Guren?" Zero called.

"It's fine!" Kallen called back, stepping out of the cockpit. "I was watching him the whole time! And everything comes up green!"

Hassel somehow managed to look innocent.

"Zero!" It was the guard from before. "Mr Biaggi's back! And he's got some people with him!"

"Did he say who they are?" Zero asked.

"Yes Zero!" The guard looked amazed. "It's the Four Holy Swords!"

The crowd erupted in a cacophony of voices. Kaname's eyes almost jumped out of his head. The Four Holy Swords? Here, now?

"I'll speak with them!" declared Zero. "Ougi, Kallen, with me. Tamaki, you're in charge here."

Kaname fell in behind Zero as he strode towards the office, Kallen scurrying to join them.

"All right people, show's over!" barked Tamaki, clapping his hands. "We've got stuff to do round here!"

Zero followed the guard into the office corridor. Gary Biaggi was standing in the doorway of one of the offices. He nodded at Zero, and led the way inside.

The office was bare of furniture, and was being used as a storeroom for small items. Hanging around inside were four people; an old man, two young men, and a young woman. They were dressed in civilian clothes, but there was no mistaking their military bearing as they lined up and bowed.

"The Four Holy Swords," Zero said, as Biaggi shut the door behind them. "Why are they here, Biaggi?"

"I found them in Shizuoka," Biaggi spoke up. "They'd been asking around, trying to make contact. I happened to be in the area, so I brought them back here."

"I see. And what of the business I sent you on?"

"All done, Zero."

Kaname regarded the four. These were not the Four Holy Swords, the legendary Shisei-Ken he had expected. For all their determination and bearing, their clothes were dirty, their faces pinched and drawn, their bloodshot eyes glaring with suspicion. They looked like they had been on the run.

"So then," Zero went on, turning to face the four. "Does my colleague here speak the truth?"

"Yes, Zero, he does," replied the old man. "Ryoga Senba, at your service." He bowed.

"Nagisa Chiba," the woman introduced herself, bowing.

"Shogo Asahina," said one of the young men, the one with teal hair and glasses, bowing.

"And I guess I'm last," said the other young man, this one with dark blue hair and a narrow face. "Kosetsu Urabe, at your service." He bowed.

"Welcome, friends," Zero replied. "But you haven't told me what brings you here."

The four faltered, and glanced at one-another.

"It's because of our leader, Kyoshiroh Tohdoh," said Senba, his face grave. "The Britannians have captured him."

Kaname heard Kallen gasp, and felt his stomach churn. Kyoshiroh Tohdoh, the Miracle-worker of Itsukushima, and the greatest warrior of the JLF. He'd been captured?

"I see," Zero said, apparently unperturbed. "And how did this happen?"

"We were visiting Genbu Kururugi's grave," Senba went on. "The Britannians jumped us. We tried to run, but they had us surrounded. We got through, but the lieutenant-colonel stayed behind. He sacrificed himself."

A shadow hung over the four. Kaname already knew what they wanted.

"That is most unfortunate," said Zero. "When did this happen?"

"Three days ago," replied Senba.

"I see. And what do you intend to do about it?"

The four glanced at one-another again.

"We mean to rescue him," said Senba firmly. "By ourselves if need be. But with your help, if you will permit."

All four bowed. Kaname stared at them, hardly daring to believe what he was hearing.

"Do you at least know where he is being held?" asked Zero, his tone as unreadable as his masked face.

"He's being held in the Tokyo District High Security Prison," Senba said. "That's our best intel."

"He won't break, Zero," insisted Shogo Asahina. "We've got time to prepare. We can…"

"No, you do not," retorted Zero, cutting him of. "You have a week at the most."

The four looked appalled, and Kaname wondered what Zero could have meant.

"No way!" protested Asahina.

"The lieutenant-colonel wouldn't break!" snapped Chiba, eyes bright. "He would never break!"

"He will not break, because no breaking will be attempted," replied Zero firmly. "He will be tried, condemned, and executed in a scrupulously fair manner."

The four looked at him as if he had told them the Moon was made of cheese.

"With all respect, Zero," replied Senba. "I find that very hard to believe."

"That's because you don't know Cornelia," retorted Zero. "In Britannia, they call her the Queen of Knights; because she holds chivalry dear. Tohdoh may be her enemy, but he has always fought as a soldier, with honour. She will not stain her own honour, or that of the Imperial army, by allowing the OSI's torturers anywhere near him."

The four did not reply, but they looked distinctly dubious.

"If you do not accept her sincerity, then accept her self-interest," Zero went on. "What do you suppose would happen if she let Tohdoh be tortured to death, and word of it got out? How do you suppose the Japanese public would react?"

"Fury," replied Chiba, with conviction. "Rage. He would be a martyr."

"Precisely," Zero replied. "Far better to let him die with dignity. Much more honourable, and much less self-defeating."

Once again, the four did not reply. But something in their manner told Kaname that they had conceded the point.

"Friends, I sympathise," Zero said, and sounded like he meant it. "But why come to me? Your organisation never much cared for me or mine. What makes you think I can help?"

"Because you're the only ones who get anything done these days," complained Urabe. "Aside from you and the small cells, all that's left is the loony left down in Kyushu, some far-right crazies, and the mountain warlords."

"The lieutenant-colonel thinks you're a planner," added Chiba, regarding him with shrewd eyes. "If anyone's got a plan for getting someone out of that prison, it's you."

Zero looked from one to the other of the four. Kaname wished he could see Zero's face, see the eyes behind that mask; know something of what he was thinking.

"As it happens, I do have a plan," he said. "Made in case we should need to extract anyone of our own. Tell our guests about the prison, Ougi."

It took Kaname a moment to realise he had been spoken to.

"The prison is located on the outskirts of Tokyo settlement," he replied. "It consists of six panopticon towers, each with eight cell blocks. The whole complex is surrounded by a curtain wall and a separate outer wall connected to the settlement plateau. The main gatehouse in the north wall houses the command centre and the garrison barracks; along with the ground level entrance and an under-level subway station connecting to the settlement network. The only way out of the inner wall is via the gatehouse; by either of these means."

The four blinked in unison. Kaname wasn't sure if they were impressed or merely stunned.

"And the defences?" prompted Zero.

"There are five additional towers; two flanking the gatehouse, three on the opposite wall," Kaname went on. The garrison consists of one platoon in each panopticon tower, with additional troops barracked in the gatehouse and the wall towers. The gatehouse, wall towers, and panopticon towers are equipped with infantry and knightmare-grade remote turrets; configured to fire against internal and external targets. Between them, the entire compound is a free-fire zone."

He could see their spirits falling with every word; every terrible trial he described. They had known this would be dangerous, but they hadn't known precisely how dangerous.

"You see my problem," Zero cut in again. "A breakout is perfectly possible, but it would require considerable resources; and likely result in casualties. I ask you once again, for what reason should I risk my followers?"

Kaname's heart ached for the four. They had come to Zero for help, yet all he did was question their motives and demand a reward. And it was all the worse, for they knew that had their situations been reversed, they would have made the same demand.

"Zero…we have nothing to offer but our gratitude," Senba admitted grimly. "Were we free to do so, we would pledge ourselves to your service. But our lieutenant-colonel lives, and we owe him everything. If you cannot help us, then we will attempt to save ourselves. We cannot do otherwise."

"Do you guys even have your knightmares?" asked Kallen.

"Not anymore," admitted Urabe sourly. "Britannians got'em."

For a long moment, Zero stared at them. Kaname found himself wishing, praying for him to say yes. He knew it was madness, but…

"Wait here. The rest of you, with me."

Zero turned on his heel and strode out of the room. Kaname followed him out into the corridor, and into the next room; which was deserted.

"Kallen, bring the rest of the senior staff here, tell them it's important."

"Right." Kallen stepped out, and closed the door behind her. For a moment there was silence.

"I know what you're thinking," said Zero. "For Mr Biaggi's benefit, say it."

"I…want to help them, Zero," admitted Kaname. "If it were only me, I would say yes. But you're right, it'll take everything we've got."

"I have an idea to even the odds," mused Zero. "But we need all the firepower we can get. Mr Biaggi, when is Task Force Bolivar due to arrive?"

"They should be here by the end of the week, if the weather holds up." Biaggi smirked. "They'll be ready the moment they unload."

Kaname shivered. Of the Black Knights, only the inner circle – himself included – knew about Task Force Bolivar; the European military expedition coming to assist them. He was as surprised as any of them, but apparently Kyoto had signed off on it.

More importantly…

"The end of the week? That's cutting it fine," he said. "And if the Britannians are just going to execute him, it could happen at any time."

"I am confident we still have a few days," replied Zero. "The courts can be slow, and Cornelia has no reason to hurry them. As I said, she will be scrupulously fair; if only for appearances sake."

"They'll do it, Zero," insisted Biaggi. "You can count on them, absolutely."

"You had better hope so, Mr Biaggi." Zero looked straight at him. "Because this going to be their grand debut."

(X)

Headquarters Bureau, Tokyo Settlement

"Ah, Alexander, good."

Alexander snapped to attention, and made the knightly salute; his clenched right fist over his heart. Before him, Princess Cornelia sat behind her desk, her old smile back in place.

"I trust the museum ball wasn't too unbearable?"

"Not at all, your highness. An excellent evening."

"Euphie certainly thought so." There was that old twinkle in her eyes. "She said you danced divinely. Lady Shaing thought so too."

Alexander tried and failed to keep a blush from his cheeks. He had been a fool to hope that Cornelia wouldn't find out about that.

"She paid a call on me yesterday," Cornelia went on. "She was very complimentary about your conduct. She said you were a fine partner on the dance floor, and a parfait chevalier towards her daughter."

His face went red hot, making her chuckle. He should not have been embarrassed, not for dancing at a ball. But he had seen all those eyes upon him; and he just knew what sort of gossip would be flying around. The dowager lady and her daughter in the same evening.

Her engaged daughter.

"I…trust that Sir Shin did not object to my conduct, your highness?" he asked. "I did not know she was his fiancée until after we danced."

"Alexander…" Cornelia gave him a slightly weary look. "I know you're not quite used to these events. But dancing with a man's fiancée is hardly a duelling offence. Especially if he did not introduce her as such."

Alexander felt foolish. He knew Cornelia was right. But it still felt awkward.

"It's not unknown," Cornelia went on. "Adopt the son, and marry him to the daughter. The only real surprise is where he came from. An Eleven, rising to become a Knight Commander of the Order of Saint Michael. Would that all of his former compatriots were so committed."

He could hear the edge in her tone, and knew its meaning. For all his undoubted achievements, and all he represented, Shin Hyuga-Shaing was a rarity. Those once known as Japanese were obedient for the most part, but hardly the most enthusiastic of Britannia's new subjects. Few dared hope to rise so high, and fewer still made the effort. And there were those who would much rather they did neither.

"Incidentally," she went on, suddenly changing the subject. "What did you think of young Sir Shin? I understand you had a little tete-a-tete with him."

Alexander faltered, uncertain what to say.

"I…I found him to be polite, and quite charming," he replied awkwardly. "His mother and sister both adore him, and Lord Manfredi looks upon him with affection, like a father."

"I suppose that makes sense," Cornelia mused. "Some say the Round Table is cursed. Its members are often unlucky in love. Perhaps Sir Shin is the son he never had."

Alexander wasn't sure what to feel. If that was so, then it only made the two of them even more alike. He wasn't sure he liked that idea.

"As for Lady Maria, she looks on him with a mother's eye." Cornelia went on. "And young Miss Alice seems to be in awe of him. They see no evil in him at all."

She paused, and Alexander wondered what she was thinking.

"How did you find him, Alexander? As a person, I mean?"

Alexander drew a long breath. He wasn't quite sure what to say.

"I found him to be polite and charming," he said, awkwardly. "He is proud of his order, but he spoke well of your highness. He and Lord Manfredi expressed the hope that you will join them on the Russian front."

"Is that so?" One curved eyebrow rose just slightly. Alexander's stomach churned. He knew what it meant.

"Sir Shin…seems to think you desire the throne, your highness," he went on. "He mused that Prince Schneizel and yourself are more worthy than Prince Odysseus and Princess Guinevere."

"Oh does he now?" The purple eyes flashed. "And what sort of man holds these opinions, Alexander? What did you see behind those handsome eyes?"

Alexander shivered, as he remembered those eyes.

"He put me in mind of…a raptor, your highness. Like a predatory bird seated upon its perch, musing upon its prey."

"Indeed." There was a dark look in Cornelia's eyes that made his blood run cold. "An ambitious and capable young knight with impudent ideas and powerful friends. He has the potential to cause a great deal of trouble. He already has done."

"Your highness?"

Cornelia did not reply. She got up from her seat and strode towards the window. She stood there and stared out, her reflection grim.

"I take you have heard of the capture of Kyoshiroh Tohdoh last week?"

"Yes, your highness."

It would have been hard not to. Kyoshiroh Tohdoh, the Miracle Worker of Itsukushima, the last JLF officer of any real standing; captured at Genbu Kururugi's graveside. The press had gone wild, and the garrison officers had been walking with their heads held high. After weeks of labouring under Cornelia's disapproval, they were starting to prove themselves.

"Humour me a moment, Alexander," said Cornelia. "Pretend that you are the Viceroy, and Tohdoh's fate is in your hands. What would you do with him?"

Alexander faltered, taken aback. Then he thought hard.

"Tohdoh is our enemy, and technically a terrorist," he said. "But he fought with honour; even as his comrades debased themselves by embracing terrorism. The Elevens love him for it, because he gives them dignity as well as hope. To capture him is to steal their hope. To execute him would be to assault their dignity; and that will provoke them to rage. I would show chivalry, and grant him clemency."

Cornelia did not reply. Alexander began to wonder just what she was thinking.

"That was my conclusion too," she said eventually. "But it's not happening. Under the Surrender Accord and the Articles of Suzerainty, he is guilty of terrorism. The court martial has found him guilty, and he will die in three days."

Alexander's heart sank. Tohdoh was an honourable man, who deserved better than to be executed like a criminal. But what could make Cornelia refuse him clemency, when she claimed she wanted to grant it?

"This matter has become very political, very quickly," Cornelia went on. "Because Tohdoh isn't just the JLF's last hero. He was also the childhood mentor of Suzaku Kururugi."

For a moment, Alexander was shocked. And then he remembered Lelouch's letters, describing a young Suzaku Kururugi, and his martial arts instructor; Kyoshiroh Tohdoh. The man they had described was stoic, yet wise and kind; and a better father to Suzaku than the one nature had ordained. Looking back at that man, Alexander could see how he had become the Tohdoh he knew; the one he had faced at Narita.

And yet he had to die.

"Were it not for that, I might have been able to get away with it," Cornelia said sourly. "But Kururugi has been attracting the wrong sort of attention. Euphemia took an interest in him, I made him a Warrant Officer, and my brother's ASEEC subordinates put him to use. And then at Narita, when he had Zero in his power, he just happened to have some kind of mental breakdown. Now that his old mentor is in custody, the powers that be are demanding further proof of his commitment."

She turned to face him, her eyes hard.

"Suzaku Kururugi will serve as Tohdoh's executioner."

Alexander's stomach clenched, and his blood ran cold. They wanted Suzaku to shoot his own mentor? To gun down the only real father he had ever had?

"Your highness…it's barbaric."

"I know it," growled Cornelia. "But the Purists will have it. And the Nativists too. They still have the power to cause trouble, and I cannot justify stirring them up over one man."

Alexander felt sick. He understood Cornelia's situation, but he couldn't make sense of it. How could they be so cruel? And so pointlessly? Why were they persecuting Suzaku like this?

Unless…

"Your highness, is this because of Sir Shin?"

Cornelia gave him a searching look.

"Shin Hyuga-Shaing is Euro-Britannia's shining paragon," she said. "Euro-Britannia's real power lies with the raw materials it extracts from Siberia; but he is a living symbol of their success, and the possibilities of their system. With Gottwald disgraced, and Area 11 under Imperial control, the Purists have nothing with which to match him. They hate and fear him, because of the future he represents."

"And they believe your highness is cultivating Kururugi as a rival?"

"Yes, Alexander, they are just that paranoid. And this whole situation is a grand opportunity to destroy him."

Alexander understood, though hit sickened him.

"They hope that he will fluff the execution or attempt treachery," he replied, a dagger twisting in his gut. "Or else they hope that killing Tohdoh will break his heart, and ruin him in the eyes of the Elevens."

Cornelia sighed. There was a sadness in her eyes he had not often seen.

"You're getting the hang of this, Alexander. Which is why I must give you a grim task."

She strode back to her desk and sat down.

"To eliminate any possibility of treachery, or of a leak, Kururugi will not receive his orders until he reaches the prison on the night," she said gravely. "That responsibility falls to you, Alexander. You will go to the prison, deliver Kururugi his orders, and oversee the execution; ensuring that everything is carried out to the letter. If Kururugi does fluff it, or if something goes wrong, you will finish Tohdoh off yourself."

Alexander felt cold. He had killed many times in battle, but never in an execution. He had never overseen a firing squad, or had to finish off the condemned afterwards. He had never imagined ever having to do it.

Let alone having to watch Suzaku Kururugi kill his own mentor. And with barely a moment's warning.

"I am sorry, Alexander," said Cornelia, and Alexander knew that she meant it. "I am sorry to have to order such cruelty. But there is too much at stake for me to forbear. Tohdoh must die by Kururugi's hand, and you are the only one who can ensure that he does it. Your integrity is not in doubt, and you are his friend."

His friend. Was he really? Would a friend do this?

Yet…what choice did he have? What better could he do? If he refused, Cornelia would just make someone else do it. And what other friends did Suzaku have?

"I am at your highness' disposal," he forced himself to say. "I will carry out this duty, without fail."

"Thank you, Alexander."

She meant that, too. This hurt her too, he knew. It had to. The Cornelia he had known, the Cornelia he had grown up with, could not but be hurt by this. They had both come a long way since those innocent days. The world was not what they had hoped.

"There is another reason for you to be there," Cornelia went on. "There is a possibility that Tohdoh's followers, or some other group, may attempt to free him. I have ordered the prison reinforced, but having you there will make it more secure. Which brings me to a lighter note."

Her eyes lightened somewhat.

"Our company has been sparse of late," she said. "But I've finally managed to wrangle some replacements."

That was good news. Cornelia's knights had taken heavy losses; at Seraphaum, Narita, and again at Yokosuka. Of the band of knights she had led from Britannia's shores two years ago, only five remained. Sir Gilbert Guilford, Sir Emil Flandre, Sir Richard Endover, himself, and Rai; and Rai wasn't technically a knight yet. There were the five Glaston Knights too, but Prince Schneizel still would not give them back.

"Four replacements," Cornelia went on, her eyes twinkling. "Four cute little subordinates for you."

She reached for the intercom.

"Send them in," she ordered. A moment later, the doors opened, and Alexander stared as the newcomers strode into the office, and lined up before the desk, snapping to attention. There were four of them, two boys and two girls. All wore the same uniform as himself; maroon coat with blue frogging, white trousers, and black boots.

They all looked worryingly young.

"Your four new subordinates," Cornelia said proudly, striding around the desk and looking them over. "Rather young I'll admit, but their instructors speak well of them. You shall have the honour of finding out what they're really made of."

She moved to stand by Alexander, and regarded them with stern but good-humoured eyes.

"This is your platoon leader, Lieutenant Sir Alexander Waldstein, Viscount San Clemente," she introduced him. "Now, introduce yourselves."

The one on Alexander's left, a blonde, blue-eyed youth with a narrow face, bowed and made the knightly salute; his clenched right fist over his left breast.

"Warrant Officer Schnee Hexenhaus, at your service my lord!"

The youth in the middle did likewise. He had bronze skin and black hair, red eyes, and a face that could have been a girl's.

"Warrant Officer Ledo Offen, at your service my lord!"

Then it was the girls' turn. One had brown hair down to her chin, and blue eyes; the other had blonde hair past her shoulders, and green eyes.

"Warrant Officer Marika Soresi, at your service my lord!"

"Warrant Officer Lilliana Vergamon, at your service my lord!"

Alexander looked them over once again, still more than a little astonished. He had only ever had Rai for a subordinate; now he had four to manage. This was going to take some simulator time at least.

"And there you are," declared Cornelia. "Get these four settled, and start licking them into shape. You're due at the prison for nineteen-hundred hours on Friday. That will be all."

The twinkle was back in her eyes. And he was glad of it.

(X)

Kashiwa Ghetto, Tokyo Settlement

Assembly point B13 was a fancy name for the gap under a road overpass just outside the settlement boundary.

It wasn't much to look at. Like much civic infrastructure that went anywhere near the ghetto, it was a vision of urban decay. The concrete pillars were sprayed with incomprehensible graffiti, and around their feet lay debris and trash of one sort or another. On another day there might even have been people; the lost unfortunates whom even the ghettoes shunned.

But they weren't around today. They knew better than to be overly curious when men with guns showed up.

Looking through the window of the red RV in which he sat, Lelouch's lip curled as he took in the sight. His nose wrinkled at the smell, his hackles rose at the dirt and decay, and his soul clenched at the emptiness of the place. He felt ill at the thought of people having to live in such a place; even as he knew just how many had little choice.

He had seen them, not so long ago. The wretched, ragged outcasts who survived as best they could in the ruins of what had once been a great city. The Britannians ignored them, and the ghetto dwellers treated them with a twisted blend of pity and contempt. The latter had sickened him far worse, though he understood it only too well. Desperate people, condemned to live in squalor, fighting tooth and nail for any scrap of status, of dignity. That was what happened when people had no hope.

But no one would see what was going on there. Even if anyone happened to be watching, they would keep it to themselves. The Britannians paid well for information, but Zero paid even better, and he wasn't just offering money either.

Zero offered hope. That was why Lelouch had invented him.

He sat where he was, willing his mind to clear. He was already tired, and the operation hadn't even begun. There had been so much to do, so much to organise. He had spent the past week running himself and his subordinates ragged, trying to throw together a complex operation in a fraction of the time he would have liked.

At least it had all gone to plan, so far. The deliveries had all arrived, and the preparations were all on schedule. Even better, there was no indication that the Britannians were expecting any trouble.

Except that if there was, he wouldn't know about it. If the Britannians wanted to move in additional troops, they would do so via the subway, not by road where someone might see them. They could have packed the place with extra troops and he wouldn't know a thing about it.

For that reason, he had been forced to activate a number of cells operating in the Tokyo area and the neighbouring districts. Their dummy operations would draw the Britannians attention, and make them less concerned with what was going on the prison.

He hoped.

"You okay, Zero?"

Lelouch looked up, and saw Kallen Kozuki standing there, looking worried.

"I'm fine, Kallen," he replied, forcing himself not to sound weary. "I've been busy, that's all. Are you ready for tonight?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." Kallen still looked worried. "Zero…I'm not trying to back out or anything, but this has got to be the trickiest operation we've ever done."

"You're right, it is," admitted Lelouch. "Do you feel able to do it?"

"I think so…I mean yes, I do!" Kallen forced herself to look determined. It reminded Lelouch of that night at Yokosuka. "I just really hope everything comes together okay. And that these Bolivar guys are everything they're cracked up to be."

"I have assurances that they are very capable," insisted Lelouch. "And their knightmares have been provided by Rakshata Chawla; the same person who designed your Guren Nishiki."

"Is she really coming?" Kallen asked, wide-eyed.

"She was due to arrive with the shipment for the Shisei-ken this morning."

Lelouch couldn't blame Kallen for being impressed. This was the woman who had designed her knightmare; a knightmare only the Lancelot could match. No doubt she wanted to see what condition her creation was in, and to oversee the deployment of her more recent creations. If he could actually win her over, she would be quite the asset.

The comm in his helmet buzzed.

"This is Zero," he replied, activating it.

"Ougi here," replied Kaname Ougi. "Diethard has arrived. Our guests are with him."

"Professor Chawla?"

"Yes, and her party. And someone else too."

Lelouch's brow furrowed. That wasn't part of the plan, and Ougi sounded nervous.

"Who is it?"

"Lady Kaguya Sumeragi, and two bodyguards. She says she wants to see you."

Lelouch's heart skipped a beat. Kaguya Sumeragi? The heir of Kyoto? What was she doing in this place?

"Send them in. And keep good watch."

"Right."

The comm deactivated. Lelouch let out a long sigh.

"What's wrong?" Kallen asked.

"Diethard is bringing Professor Chawla here," he said. "But there's been a complication. Lady Kaguya Sumeragi has invited herself along."

"Her?" Kallen looked as bewildered as he was. "But…but why would she come here? Why would they let her out of Kyoto?"

"I don't know for certain," Lelouch admitted. "But I suspect she's been sent to spy on me."

"But why?" Kallen was incredulous. "Is this about the EU? They already agreed to that."

"Yes, but EuroSec only contacted them after they had contacted me via Biaggi," Lelouch replied. "I don't know what EuroSec told them, and I suspect Biaggi doesn't know either. Kyoto likely suspects that EuroSec is cultivating me against them, and they're probably right."

He paused, gathering his thoughts.

"What will you do?" Kallen asked.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. In the meantime, we'll get this operation done, and see what Tohdoh has to say. He may be able to tell us more about what was going on between Kyoto and the JLF."

Kallen still looked worried, but he could not miss the sparkle in her eyes. She was enjoying being close to him, being taken into his confidence; even just a little. He would have to be careful about that.

"And for now…" Lelouch glanced out of the window, and saw a black minibus pull up. The windows were tinted, but he knew who was inside. "Let's go meet our guests."

He paused only long enough for the minibus to stop, the side door to slide open, and Diethard to step out. He opened the side door, and strode out, Kallen close behind.

"Diethard," Lelouch greeted the older man. "I trust that…"

"Zero-sama!"

A blur rushed past Diethard, and wrapped itself around Lelouch's waist. Lelouch looked down, and saw a pair of eyes staring up at him in utter adoration.

"Oh Zero-sama! How I've waited for this day!"

This was indeed Kaguya Sumeragi; a seven-years-older version of the young girl he had once known. The same eyes, the same long black hair, this time held in place by a golden circlet, the same near-overwhelming enthusiasm.

"Lady Sumeragi," he greeted her, as he managed to pull back. "To what do I know this honour?"

"To the irrepressible joy of your new wife!"

Lelouch could feel Kallen's eyes upon him. Diethard's face was a look of careful neutrality. Standing next to him were two men in dark suits, their eyes hidden behind dark glasses. He had seen men like them before, back at the Mount Fuji mine, and had a fair inkling of what they were thinking.

"You honour me, my lady. But I cannot recall ever seeking your hand."

"That's because it's destiny, Zero-sama!"

Kaguya twirled on the spot. She was wearing a pink blouse with a sailor collar, red sash, loose white sleeves, and a red pleated skirt; along with baggy white socks and red shoes. It was a style currently popular among the better-off Honourary Britannians; a mix of pre-war Japanese and Britannian.

"Lady Sumeragi, perhaps we might…"

"Be gentle with it!"

The cry cut through the conversation like a blade. All four looked to see a young woman, accompanied by four men, standing in front of the HGV. Lelouch had been so focussed on Kaguya that he hadn't noticed them getting out of the minibus.

"Who the hell are you!" Tamaki demanded, rounding on the intruder.

"The mother of that child!" the woman retorted. "Do you have any idea of how delicate those hydraulics are?"

"Zero-sama!" Kaguya interjected brightly. "This is Professor Rakshata Chawla, from India. She's agreed to come here in person, to help you!"

She beamed up at him, clearly expecting him to be overjoyed. Lelouch, for his own part, was only glad that no one could see his face.

"Professor Chawla," he spoke up, stepping forward to greet her. "Welcome to Japan."

Rakshata turned to look at him. She was brown-skinned and blonde-haired, with a purple bindi on her forehead; and wore a pink blouse and brown slacks. In one hand was a narrow pipe, twirling in her fingers.

"So you are Zero?" she mused. "I've heard so much about you."

"The same goes for you, professor. I've read several articles about you in the past."

"About me?"

"Articles about medical cybernetics."

"I hate talking about the past," Rakshata Chawla replied, with a rueful smile. "In the meantime, my companions."

She gestured to the two men on her right. Both were brown-skinned like herself; one thing with a tapering chin, the other portly with a short beard.

"Ayesh Joshi, and Nihar Mishra, two old friends of mine." The two men bowed respectfully.

"And over here, two more recent acquisitions" she went on, gesturing to the other two men, "Billy Katagiri, and Allen Schenburg."

The other two were white men, both brown-haired and wearing glasses. One, the taller, had his hair on a long ponytail. The other, the shorter and younger-looking, had short hair and a nervous air about him.

"Gentlemen, welcome," Lelouch declared fulsomely. "You've already met Diethard and Lady Sumeragi. This is Kallen Kozuki, the pilot of the Guren."

"Uh, hello." Kallen blushed as she bowed. "This is…this is a real honour, really. This knightmare is amazing!"

"You're the amazing one, Kallen," replied Rakshata, smiling. "Based on the footage I've seen, you're quite the pilot. Only someone of your talent could bring out the Guren's full potential."

"Aww, I'm not that good…" Kallen smiled awkwardly, rubbing the back of her neck.

"But you are!" insisted Kaguya, grabbing her hands and shaking them furiously. "I'm so glad to meet the illustrious Red Lotus!"

"Red Lotus?" Kallen looked utterly bewildered.

"Incidentally," Rakshata turned to Lelouch again. "There's something we need to discuss. Can we talk in private?"

"This way."

Lelouch led the way towards the RV, and let Rakshata inside.

"We can talk freely in here," he said, closing the door behind him as Rakshata sat down. "Now, what seems to be the trouble?"

"That depends on you, Zero," replied Rakshata, sitting with her legs crossed and her arms spread across the back of the seat. "Just what exactly is going on between you and the EU?"

Lelouch's stomach clenched. Just what had EuroSec been telling her? Or Kyoto for that matter?

"Not all that much, really," he said cautiously. "They've agreed to support our cause. I trust you had no problems with Task Force Bolivar?"

"Oh, not at all." Rakshata smirked. "Eight knightmares, with pilots and support personnel, all delivered and safely hidden. They're an interesting bunch, that Task Force Bolivar. And they told me something interesting too."

"Which was?"

Rakshata paused, bringing her pipe to her lips.

"I was expecting the dropoff to be total chaos," she said. "I thought I would have to float the knightmares ashore from off the coast. But those Bolivar characters assured me everything would be arranged. And would you believe it, it was. The discreet dock, the workers, the trucks, the hiding places. All care of a Mister Gary Biaggi."

"Yes," Lelouch replied lightly. "Mister Biaggi has proven very helpful."

"The thing is…" Rakshata went on. "Kyoto never said a word to me about a deep cover agent. One capable of arranging all that."

"Perhaps they didn't want to risk exposing him," suggested Lelouch, his skin prickling. He had expected her to come in on the Shisei-ken shipment, not the Bolivar shipment! But now she had seen Biaggi, and he hadn't been there to smooth things over!

"Perhaps…" Rakshata mused. "I would have concluded that myself, had I not run into Princess Genki out there. She told me that she had come to greet Task Force Bolivar on Kyoto's behalf, but no one seemed to know where they were. It seems the dock we used wasn't the dock she or Kyoto had been expecting."

Her smirk widened.

"You have to understand how this looks, Zero. I may be completely wrong, but it looks like you didn't want Lady Sumeragi meeting Task Force Bolivar; at least not until you'd met with them yourself. Now what didn't you want her to know, Zero? Who was it you didn't want her to meet?"

Lelouch forced himself not to clench his hands. She didn't have a scrap of evidence! Just a coincidence! What was she trying to prove?

"I had no idea that Lady Sumeragi had left Kyoto," he admitted. " I knew that Kyoto intended to send a representative, but this strikes me as a gesture too far."

"Well that's interesting, because Lady Sumeragi mentioned something else." Rakshata's eyes twinkled. "Tell me the truth, and I'll tell you what it was."

Lelouch gritted his teeth. If she was telling the truth, then Kyoto was playing him just as he was playing Kyoto. But then again, he shouldn't have been surprised. The Kyoto elite could have taught the Imperial court a thing or two about scheming.

But could he just tell her what he was doing? She had seemingly seen through him, but how much of that was just a bluff? How did he know she wouldn't pass it all on to Kyoto?

Did he even have an alternative?

"Very well then," he said, his mind made up. "I do not want Kyoto knowing about Gary Biaggi, or rather his true significance. Ordinarily I would have kept him out of sight, but I needed him to handle the unloading. My only option was to change the venue, so that the Kyoto representative would not encounter him."

Rakshata regarded him in silence. She seemed to be weighing him, in a balance he would never see or know.

"And what makes you think I won't tell Kyoto about this?" she asked, with a hint of amusement. "My contract is with them, you know."

"Because if you remotely intended to do so, you would not have come here," Lelouch replied. "You would not have taken that risk, not once you became suspicious of my motives."

Rakshata regarded him for a moment longer.

"Not bad, not bad," she mused. "And before you say anything, the young lady was asking me a lot of questions about Bolivar; in particular the personnel roster. She wanted to know precisely who was on it, and was clearly very satisfied with my answer. Someone in Task Force Bolivar is of great interest to her, and to Kyoto. I have a sneaking suspicion I know who it is, but that's all I have, unfortunately."

Lelouch's mind began to race. Kaguya Sumeragi was interested in a member of Task Force Bolivar; enough so that she came from Kyoto to greet them in person. And Kyoto was interested in that person too, hence them letting her go. Clearly something more was going on between Kyoto and the EU; something Kyoto didn't want him knowing about.

Interesting…

"That's more than enough for now, professor," he said. "Does this mean you are willing to join my cause?"

"I'll stay for now," Rakshata allowed, her eyes twinkling again. "I can't have a bunch of amateurs fiddling with my creations."

This was the best he was going to get, Lelouch knew. No point in dragging this little confrontation out. There would be time to work on Rakshata Chawla. He might not even need his Geass.

"In which case, shall we join the others?" he suggested. "It wouldn't do to keep Lady Sumeragi waiting."

"Be very careful of her," commented Rakshata, standing up and following him to the door. "She may be flighty, but she's far from stupid."

"I'll keep that in mind."

(X)

Tokyo Settlement District High Security Prison

The car drew to a halt.

Alexander looked out of the window. The prison gatehouse loomed over him, as big as many of the castles he had seen back in the homeland. The red-painted walls were slab-sided, monolithic. The heavy security door, a wall of gunmetal grey, was big enough for two trains to pass through side-by-side.

Even under better circumstances, he would not have wanted to visit this place. Not this cold, looming, glaring place.

With a clunk and a groan, the door began to slide upward. The car started up, and drove through; the transporter trucks following close behind.

The interior of the gatehouse was a great concrete cavern. Directly opposite was another blast door, while to the left was a loading dock; with space for ten trucks. Opposite the dock, to his right, was a parking area and entrance foyer. The car turned towards it, while the two transporter trucks pulled into the loading dock.

The car pulled up, and Alexander waited until the door clicked open. He climbed out, followed by Rai, and then his four new subordinates. Nearby, he saw a brown-painted HGV standing in one of the parking spaces. He had seen it before.

"Thank you," he said, acknowledging the driver. "Park here and get something to eat. We'll be here at least an hour."

"Thank you sir."

As the car drove off, Alexander led the way into the foyer, his four subordinates following behind. Once the doors had slid shut, he turned to face them.

"Now that we are here, I can explain the situation properly," he said. "As you know, Lieutenant-Colonel Kyoshiroh Tohdoh, formerly of the Japan Liberation Front, will be executed tonight at twenty-hundred hours."

He glanced at the convenient clock on the wall. Four minutes to seven. They were on time, and there was a little over an hour to go.

"Princess Cornelia has ordered me to come here and oversee the execution," he went on. "Ordinarily I would not have brought you here for this, but there is another matter."

He paused, looking them over. They were all so young.

"A secret matter, my lord?" asked Schnee Hexenhaus.

Alexander forced himself to keep a straight face. Schnee was a classic young knight; confident, enthusiastic, ready to prove himself. But Alexander remembered his psych-profile, and the notes scrawled in it.

Sensitive. Family not demonstrative. Desperate to prove himself. May try too hard.

"You will speak when you are spoken to, warrant officer," Rai interjected sternly. Schnee glowered, his lip curling in anger.

"Please forgive him, my lord," interjected Ledo Offen. "There's been a lot of speculation about this among the garrison officers."

"He's right, my lord," added Lillianna Vergamon. "There are rumours that someone's going to attack the prison."

Alexander paused, choosing his words. He didn't want to be tyrant, but it wouldn't do to let them chatter like children either. There was room for familiarity, but it had to be earned. He knew that, but had never actually done it before.

Was he ready to lead them?

"In this case you are correct," he said. "Princess Cornelia suspects that an attack might take place. For this reason, we have been sent to reinforce the guard contingent."

Schnee's glower faded. Marika held her composure, but her eyes were bright with nervous energy.

Ledo, by contrast, was as unreadable as ever. Alexander could see nothing behind those eyes; no feeling, no fear, no hint of an inner life. Just as his psych-evaluation had warned.

Emotionally repressed. Ruthless. Will do anything to succeed. Requires supervision.

"If there is an attack, this will become our first mission together," he went on. "Your instructors have all spoken highly of you, and Princess Cornelia has found you worthy to join her knights. I wish we had more time for practice, but we are where we are."

Since they had arrived earlier in the week, Alexander had been working with them in the simulators; trying to get to know them, to help them gel into a platoon. But there hadn't been enough time, not before tonight.

"Shortly, I will go upstairs to attend to this unfortunate business. You will check your knightmares, and remain with them until I return. Be ready to deploy at a moment's notice. If fortune is good, perhaps there will be no attack tonight."

"As you command, my lord!" declared Schnee, making the knightly salute.

"Yes, my lord," answered Ledo, with cold calm, also saluting.

"We will be ready, my lord, without fail," added Marika Soresi, saluting in turn.

Alexander tried and failed not to stare at her. She was so young, about the age Princess Nunnally would have been. At that age, Princess Euphemia had been at Saint Matilda's, having fun with her friends.

But there she was, clad in the same uniform as her fellow knights, eyes full of fire. It was a fire Alexander knew, for he knew where it came from.

"Very well." He returned their salute, then turned on his heel and strode to the elevator. The doors slid shut, and the elevator car carried him upward. The lack of piped-in music was curiously appropriate.

All at once, the doors slid open. Alexander stepped out, finding himself in a lobby with white walls lined in oak, and corridors leading away in three directions. A man in a green suit was striding down the opposite corridor towards him.

"Lord Waldstein, welcome!" he declared, coming to a halt. He had brown hair neatly combed back, and a narrow, curled moustache. "I am Archibald Saban, Warden of this facility."

He offered a hand, and Alexander took it.

"Thank you, warden" he replied. "I am tasked by her Imperial Highness the Vicereine to oversee the execution of the prisoner Kyoshiroh Tohdoh."

"Indeed, my lord." Saban's manner was reassuringly dignified. "Her highness informed me of this unusual case. All preparations have been made, though there will be some documents to sign."

"Very well. Has Warrant Officer Kururugi arrived?"

"Yes, my lord, in the company of Professor Asplund and Major Croomy. They are waiting in my office."

Well that was something, at least. Suzaku would not be alone on this terrible night.

"Are they aware of the true situation, warden?"

"On her highness' orders, I informed them that the prisoner's last request was to see Kururugi. But I suspect that Professor Asplund knows something."

Alexander was not surprised. Asplund was with Prince Schneizel's camp, and no doubt heard a great many things. He might even have figured it out for himself.

"I am tasked with giving Warrant officer Kururugi his orders," he said. "If you will, warden."

Saban led the way down the corridor, and through a set of double doors. Behind them stood a big, roomy office; with two sofas and a coffee table in the middle, the walls lined with bookcases. At the opposite end stood a large desk, and a window wall looking out onto the prison compound.

"Ah, Lord Waldstein!" declared Lloyd Asplund cheerfully. He was seated on one of the sofas with Cecile Croomy and Suzaku Kururugi.

"Good evening professor," Alexander replied, saluting him. "And Major Croomy."

"Good evening, my lord," Cecile replied, smiling nervously.

"Uh, good evening sir," Suzaku cut in, rising hastily to his feet. He was wearing the same orange uniform as Cecile, but with trousers instead of a skirt. After what he had worn the first time they had met, it was a considerable improvement.

"Good evening, Warrant Officer Kururugi," Alexander greeted him. "I wish this meeting were under better circumstances."

"So do I, my lord." Suzaku looked miserable. "Respectfully, my lord... are you here to carry out the execution?"

Alexander was momentarily taken aback. Then he remembered the handgun holstered at his hip.

"Her highness has commanded me to oversee the execution." It was all he could do to keep his voice level, hands behind his back. "She desires that Kyoshiroh Tohdoh should die without undue suffering."

"Yes, my lord." Suzaku inclined his head in what might have been respect. "Tohdoh is an enemy of the empire, but he deserves to die with dignity."

Alexander's heart clenched. Procrastination was beneath him, but this was too much.

"So, why exactly are we here anyway?" asked Lloyd, eyeing him.

"Did you forget already?" retorted Cecile. "Tohdoh's last request was to see Suzaku." She turned to face him. "That's correct, isn't it my lord?"

Her eyes. He could see it in her eyes. She knew, or at least she suspected. They both did.

"There are some documents to be signed," Saban spoke up, walking back from his desk with a sheaf of papers in his hand. "Firstly by Professor Asplund, and then countersigned by Lord Waldstein."

"Documents?" Suzaku looked confused. "Why?"

Alexander thought of the gun at his hip. He could do it. He could override the warden, and carry out the deed himself. Cornelia would be angry with him, but at least Suzaku would be spared the agony.

But then he remembered what Cornelia had said.

"Warrant officer Suzaku Kururugi." The words sounded vague, distant, as if someone else was saying them. "By the command of her Imperial Highness, Second Princess Cornelia li Britannia, Vicereine of Area Eleven, you are hereby authorized and required to carry out the sentence of execution against Kyoshiroh Tohdoh, by gunfire, at two-zero-hundred hours, upon this date."

The colour drained from Suzaku's face. He stood there, frozen, as if the Grim Reaper was holding him by the heart.

"But…but why?" protested Cecile, shocked. "This can't be right! This isn't the proper procedure!"

"It is most irregular," confirmed Saban. "But the orders are signed and sealed."

"My lord…" Cecile turned back to Alexander. "Please explain this! Why has her highness ordered this?"

For a moment, Alexander could not reply. What was he to say? How could he justify this?

No. Suzaku deserved an explanation. It was the only comfort he could offer now.

"It shames me to say so," he said, forcing out the words. "But Warrant Officer Kururugi's loyalty has been called into question as of late."

Suzaku looked as if Alexander had just slapped him.

"Is this about Narita again?" sighed Lloyd. "My report was quite clear about what happened."

"I know, professor, and so does Princess Cornelia." Alexander paused, swallowing the lump in his throat. "But he is regarded as a subversive element, due to both his heritage and his past misadventures."

"Ah, the Purists," Lloyd drawled, giving a sour smile. "They really can hold a grudge, can't they."

Suzaku slumped down on the sofa. He looked as if his soul had been sucked out. Alexander's heart ached for him, but he knew there was no going back.

"This is beyond a grudge, professor," he went on. "Warrant Officer Kururugi is a symbol to many Elevens and Honourary Britannians. The Purists fear that Princess Cornelia seeks to cultivate him as a figurehead, and thus bring Area Eleven further under imperial control. There is also the matter regarding how Kururugi was freed by Zero after the... Orange Incident." Alexander forced out. "There have been rumours, which only increased after Narita. You can guess on where they go from there."

Cecile and Suzaku looked at him in astonishment. Lloyd just looked bored.

"But that's ridiculous!" insisted Cecile. "How can they think that?"

"I cannot say, ma'am."

It was a cop-out, but not a lie for all that. Such thinking was alien to him. He could not understand how the Purists had come to believe such a thing.

"You may as well look on the bright side, Warrant Officer" Saban cut in, laying the documents on the coffee table in front of Lloyd. "Her highness is offering you the chance to clear your name. Do this, and your future will be brighter for it."

His tone set Alexander's teeth on edge as he threw a sideways glare at him. Suzaku did not deserve to be patronised on top of everything else!

"I will need your signature on these documents," prompted Saban. Lloyd smiled up at him, but his smile did not reach his eyes.

"And what if I don't?" he asked suddenly. "What if I refuse to sign these documents?"

"Professor!" gasped the warden, his face flushing. "This is her highness' command!"

"You think I'm frightened of her?" The smile became a smirk. "What will you do? Tattle to her that I wouldn't play ball, and Suzaku couldn't go through with it? I suppose the young Lord Waldstein will have to do it for him."

He eyed Alexander.

"That's why you're here, isn't it?" he asked. There was something very cold and unpleasant in his eyes. "To put Tohdoh down yourself if Suzaku can't? Do you deny it, my chivalrous young sir knight?"

Alexander felt sick. How could he deny it? But even if he didn't, how could he explain? What justification could he offer?

"Her highness does not want this," he said. "But the alternative was worse. Better that he die cleanly by a friend's merciful hand, than be tortured to death by the OSI."

Cecile's face went pale. Suzaku stared at him, with eyes that had once been friendly and admiring, but were now full of anguish.

And despair. And betrayal.

"Warrant officer…Suzaku…blame me if you must," he went on. "Let me carry that burden, at least. But Warden Saban is right. This is your only chance to clear your name and prove your loyalty. Do this, and your loyalty will never be questioned again. Refuse this, and you will never be free."

There was nothing more he could think of, nothing more he could say.

"What!? Where!?"

Alexander looked up in surprise. The barked command had come from Saban, who was talking into a comm-earpiece. Alexander watched as he strode over to the window-wall, and glared out. Alexander followed him, wondering what the matter could be.

Then he saw it. An airship, it's flank emblazoned with a holographic screen, drifting slowly over the prison. It was flying quite low.

"Well tell them to get it out of there!" Saban snapped. "And report it to the headquarters bureau! They've been warned about this!"

He deactivated the comm-earpiece and removed it, mastering himself.

"I'm terribly sorry," he said. "It seems that airship is having difficulty with the wind. It's happened several times."

He strode back to the coffee table, and began to harangue Lloyd about the documents. Alexander looked again. The airship drifted over the compound, brightly-coloured words and symbols flashing over its flank; advertising some company he had never heard of.

For an airship out of control, its course was remarkably regular. His eyes flicked to the near-side rotor. It was moving sedately, when it ought to have been running hot; racing to get the airship back on course.

His brow furrowed. What was going on?

Then he saw lights, as the gondola's side hatch opened.

Then he knew.

"Down!" he screamed.

"What?" asked Saban, bewildered.

"Get down!" Alexander shrieked. Within the gondola's open hatch, he saw the bright flash. He spun on his heel, and leapt in front of the desk. He saw Suzaku turn, and throw himself onto Cecile.

A thunderclap filled his ears, and the entire gatehouse shook. The windows blew in, filling the air with tiny squares of glass. Another thunderclap, and another, and another.

And then the moaning of the wind.

Alexander forced himself to his knees. The office was covered in the tiny glass squares, the documents scattered all around. He could see Suzaku, Cecile, and Lloyd trying to disentangle themselves from each other.

And Saban lay against the door, pale and shaking, his eyes blank.

"Oh well, so much for all that paperwork," quipped Lloyd.

"What on earth was that?" cried Cecile, pulling herself up.

"We're under attack!" replied Alexander, looking back towards the window. "They fired missiles from the airship!"

And that wasn't all. As he watched, six shapes detached themselves from the gondola and lowered themselves down, like commandos dropping down ropes. They landed on top of one of the cell blocks, then dropped out of sight.

"it's Tohdoh!" he yelled. "They're here for Tohdoh!"

Another explosion, this time at the opposite end of the compound. A column of smoke billowed up from one of the three guard towers, and he could hear gunfire over the wind.

And then another blast. Alexander looked around, and saw smoke spewing from one of the panopticon towers; the furthest from him on the right. More blasts, this time around the wall towers.

They were under fire. Someone was bombarding the prison!

"I've got a medical team on the way," said Lloyd, lowering his comm from his ear as Cecile tended to a shivering Saban. "But I can't raise the command centre."

Alexander glanced at Suzaku, who was helping Cecile.

"I must join my platoon. Warrant officer Kururugi, stay here and make sure the warden is safely evacuated."

"No, I'm coming." Suzaku straightened up, eyes hard. "This has to be Zero, and he'll be coming in force. You'll need help."

Alexander opened his mouth to protest, to plead with him to take this chance and stay out of this wretched affair. But he saw the look in Suzaku's eyes, and he could not say it.

"Very well."

(X)

Marika Soresi took one last swig of the coffee.

It wasn't very good. In fact, it was quite bad; compared to what she was used to. It was tasteless swill compared to the coffee back home; and even the knight school coffee had been better. She supposed it was only to be expected; it had, after all, come from a vending machine installed for the convenience of truck drivers.

But it did nothing for her mood.

"How long do you suppose it'll take?" Ledo wondered, glancing across the gatehouse towards the entrance foyer.

"Not much longer," replied Schnee, glancing at his watch. "It's due in thirty minutes, and I doubt there'll be drinks afterwards."

The five of them stood on the loading dock, beside the trucks containing their knightmares. Having finished checking their knightmares, and readying them for a battle that might or might not happen, there had been nothing left but to drink vending machine coffee and wait.

And start talking.

"Good. This is a waste of time," grumbled Ledo. "Unless the rebels do turn up."

"If they turn up, we will destroy them," declared Schnee confidently. "We will prove ourselves to Princess Cornelia, and to Lord Waldstein; and get our knighthoods confirmed."

"Careful," quipped Ledo, with a smile that did not reach his eyes. "Your enthusiasm could get you killed."

"So what if it does?" retorted Schnee, his face flushing. "The noblest blood must be spilled first. That has always been our way!"

"Your way, maybe," mused Ledo. "I mean to survive this war."

Marika suppressed a shiver. There was something definitely off about that one, something she could not quite place.

"You might want to be careful, Ledo," Lilliana cut in, smiling. "Those words could be construed as cowardice."

Ledo gave her a strange look, one Marika did not like. She had known Lilliana for only a few months, ever since they had first arrived in Area 11 for their cadet postings, but she had come to think of her as a friend. She was glad Lilliana had been chosen too, if only because she didn't want to be the only girl in the platoon.

But if this Ledo character was going to cause trouble…

"That would depend on your definition of cowardice," Ledo retorted. "I'm not going to run and hide, if that's what you mean. I'm just not interested in getting killed."

"So you're fine with combat so long as there's not too much danger?" Lilliana's smile became a smirk. "A fair-weather knight?"

"Have a care," growled Schnee. "We are knights, graduated from the Colchester knight school. Can you two say the same?"

"We were cadets, in Princess Cornelia's service!" snapped Marika, before Lilliana could respond. "And my blood is at least as good as yours, Schnee Hexenhaus!"

Schnee's face flushed. It was not a claim he could deny. The Soresi family was old and powerful, one of the first noble families of the empire. Her ancestor had fled Italy with Napoleon Bonaparte snapping at his heels, and had been among those who knelt before Ricardo le Bretan on the day that he claimed the throne. Their story had been checkered since then, full of ups and downs, but they had retained their honour.

Until her brother, Kewell, had followed Jeremiah Gottwald in his mad scheme to take control of Area 11. He had not been officially named or punished, but association alone was enough to mark him, and his family.

Now he was gone. And there was only her, his sister, to set things right.

"Enough!" barked Rai, glaring at them with suspicious eyes. "Squabble all you want in your own time! I will not…!"

Rai trailed off. There was a rumbling sound, like a distant thunder; but much closer. It was coming from above them.

"What was that?" asked Schnee, looking around.

"An explosion," said Ledo, eyes hard. "We're under attack."

Rai pulled out his comm earpiece, and put it on.

"My lord, what's happening?" he asked. "We heard a sound."

A crackle, and a voice Marika could not make out.

"Your orders, my lord?" More crackling. "Yes, my lord."

Rai disconnected the comm and put it back in his pocket.

"Ready your knightmares!" he barked. "If it's a fight you want, now's the time!"

He dashed over to his own knightmare. Marika turned and strode to her nearby Gloucester. Flipping the keyhole open with one hand, she pulled out her key her key with the other. Forcing her hand not to shake, she slid the key into the socket and turned. With a clunk, the hatch dropped open, and the seat slid out. She pulled herself up, clambered into the seat, and pulled the handle. The seat slid back in, the hatch closing behind her, plunging her into darkness.

Her heart pounded. This was is it. This was it! They were going to fight! Actually fight!

Willing her heart to slow, she slid the key into its socket. The HUD lit up, the main screen showing the Britannian flag, the words Marching ever onward to the future emblazoned in white script below it. She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to remember her pre-start checklist.

Power on, check systems diagnostic, check system mode. Systems all green, select combat mode. Comms on. Sensors on. Weapons on.

"Marika Soresi, checked, set, and done!" she declared, with a thrill of achievement. First one ready.

"Ledo Offen, checked set and done," came Ledo's voice over the comm.

"Lilliana Vergamon, checked set and done."

Marika saw a flicker of movement on her screen. She looked, and saw Lord Waldstein sprinting across the concrete floor. No slowpoke that one.

"Schnee Hexenhaus, checked set and done."

"Ensign Rai, checked set and done," declared Rai. "All units ready."

"Platoon…" Waldstein's face appeared on the comm screen. "The prison is under attack by unknown forces. The control centre has been totally destroyed, and the panopticon towers are under fire. We must ensure that the prisoner Kyoshiroh Tohdoh is not taken."

On her screen, Marika saw Waldstein's Gloucester clamber out of the transporter truck and stride into the centre of the floor. She did likewise, her thoughts moving mechanical arms and legs, a mechanical hand drawing the assault rifle from its slot.

Concentrate. She had to concentrate!

"The prison staff have managed to access the secondary door controls," Waldstein went on. "They will open on my order. All units, take up position."

His voice was cool, stern, commanding; like his eyes on the comm screen. There was no doubt or sorrow in him; not like he had been before. This was their commander, ready to lead them into battle.

Perhaps he would stop looking at her with those sad eyes. Perhaps, before the night was out, he would take her seriously.

The doors clunked and groaned, slowly sliding open. Marika took up position on Waldstein's flank, her comrades taking their own positions. Next to her was Ledo, then Waldstein and Rai, then Schnee, and Lilliana on the opposite flank.

They were ready.

Then she saw something to her right, something white. She looked, and saw a knightmare stepping out of the brown HGV that had been waiting by the entrance. It was a white knightmare, one she had seen before.

Lancelot. The Lancelot was here.

"Follow me."

Waldstein's landspinners slammed down, and his Gloucester shot out into the compound. Marika slammed down her pedals, her knightmare leaping forward. Her heart clenched as they raced out together.

Before them, to either side, loomed the panopticons; their slab-like walls red under the floodlights. Far above, smoke leaked from the tops of the tall towers, and yet more from the three wall towers opposite.

Lord Waldstein was right. The prison was under fire. But from where?

"Contacts on the right! Coming round the cell blocks!"

Marika turned her Gloucester's head to look. In an instant her IFF beeped, as a swarm of black shapes rounded the furthest cell block. Contact icons flickered into place over them, marking them as Burais.

The Lancelot peeled off, speeding away to the left; while Waldstein turned right, lining up against the Burais. Marika did likewise, accelerating to regain her position. She could see them clearly now. Twelve of them, charging in a loose clump, those in the rear just starting to spread out to the flanks.

Amateurs.

"All units, enemy knightmares up ahead," came Waldstein's voice. "Marika! Liliana! Crowd control!"

"Yes my lord!" replied Marika, in chorus with Lilliana. Knowing what he meant, she jinked left, spreading out as far as she dared. Mentally she activated her rifle's missile launcher, and squeezed the trigger; sending an anti-infantry round towards the outermost Burai, and another, and another. The rounds exploded, doing little harm, but the Burais faltered and stumbled, their cameras disrupted by the blasts.

She switched to her rifle and fired, sending a tight burst towards the nearest Burai. The Burai jiggled and staggered under the impacts, but managed to stay on its feet. Marika jinked as its companion opened fire, slewing left to right, the bullets tinging off her armour and ripping at her cape.

She glanced to her right. Her comrades were doing likewise, firing off in bursts as they dodged. But they weren't having much more luck than her.

Then she saw Waldstein and Rai. Rai was firing, but his rifle bursts were hitting. She saw an arm fly off a Burai, and another one topple over. Waldstein was firing too, his twin pistols blazing away. A Burai exploded, and then another.

Three down, and one maimed. And neither she nor her fellows had scored a kill yet. Those two really were veterans.

They were getting close. There were four in front of them, two turning towards Waldstein and Rai, two facing her and Ledo. The one on the right was firing at Ledo, while the one opposite her had stopped, and was reloading its rifle.

Her heart jumped, and she slammed on the pedals, mentally activating her right Stun Tonfa. The Burai broke left, firing its rifle in a panic. She closed, thrusting out her tonfa and twisting her waist, striking at the Burai from the side.

The tonfa struck, but glanced off. Marika jammed down the pedals, spinning her knightmare on the spot. As she rolled back, she saw the Burai, staggering and smoking, but still on its feet, and turning to face her.

She had missed! She had fluffed it!

The Burai was raising its rifle. Marika snarled, and fired her own rifle, sending a stream of beer-bottle-sized bullets into the Burai's plastron. The Burai fell back, and blew apart.

"Not the best kill," commented Ledo, skating up alongside her. "But a kill's a kill."

Marika spat a curse, and shook her head. She had to focus! Her brother had fought countless battles like this!

She looked around. Most of the Burais were down, and all her comrades were still active. There were four Burais left, coming around hard. Four left, out of twelve!

"Concentrate fire!" Waldstein ordered. Marika obeyed, levelling her rifle at the nearest Burai. She fired, Ledo joining in, the twin streams intersecting over the hapless knightmare even as it tried to fire back. The Burai exploded, as did one of its fellows. The surviving two fired wildly, but Waldstein and Rai were upon them, and the two crumpled and fell.

It was over. It couldn't have lasted more than a minute or two, but it was over.

This was a battle. A real battle. Like the battles her brother had fought.

"Mari, you okay?" asked Lilliana.

"I'm fine, Lilli," she replied, glad of her friend's voice.

"All units, follow me," ordered Waldstein. "Kururugi needs our help!"

Waldstein led the way, down the open space between the two rows of panopticons. Marika followed on, glancing about for danger. Above, most of the panopticon towers were now on fire, and a couple of the cell blocks were taking hits too.

Then she saw them. Up ahead was the Lancelot, with four teal knightmares circling around it at speed. There were two more nearby, one standing by a cell block, the other hitched up the wall on its slash harkens, peering in through a blasted, melted hole.

So they had come after Tohdoh! But what were those strange knightmares? She keyed her sensors, bringing up active mode.

Negative. No sensor return. Her brow furrowed as she switched over to passive mode, and her suspicions were confirmed.

"My lord!" she called into the comm. "I'm getting a high ECM reading! Someone's jamming us!"

"Confirmed! All units switch off your sensors. Stay on visual mode!"

Marika gritted her teeth as she obeyed. Her optical sensors could not be jammed, except maybe by shining a laser straight into them. But they could only see in the forward arc. Without even passive sensors, she was all but blind; like a lowly trooper down on the field, hoping the next falling shell wasn't coming his way.

She shook her head. Nothing to be done for it. They had to…

A flash to her left. She looked, and gaped as something tore through Schnee's Gloucester, tearing away the right leg and sending it toppling over.

"Sniper!"

(X)

Neill Dylandy hissed a curse, as the five Gloucesters split apart, vanishing behind the cell blocks. The sixth, his target, laying smoking on the concrete; out of the fight.

He supposed he should finish off the pilot. But that had never sat right with him, and besides, he had more immediate problems.

From his vantage point on the curtain wall, beside one of the wrecked towers, he had a good view of the main compound; or as good as the panopticon towers would allow. He could see the Shisei-ken teaming up on the Lancelot; the one Rakshata had warned them about. It was a good machine, he could tell; but four on one would push anyone to the limit.

"Yukiya, how's the targeting?"

"Fine, fine," replied Yukiya, his voice distorting a little from the jamming. "Almost done. This targeting system is something else."

Neil glanced over at his companion. Yukiya was piloting a custom Gekka similar to his own in dark blue to Neil's dark green, with rounded armour on the shoulders and knees, and a swollen head to accommodate extra electronics. But it also had two comm aerials rising from its back, swaying slightly in the breeze. Yukiya's Gekka was an experiment ECW model, and he was doing a fair job of jamming the Britannian sensors and communications, while also guiding in the Black Knights' mortar fire.

Unfortunately, he couldn't do all that and defend himself at the same time. Which meant Neil had to keep enemies off him for as long as possible. Not a problem thus far, but if something happened…

"Any chance of a long-range scan? I'm feeling a little naked out here."

"Sorry, no dice. Not with this jamming setup."

Neil gritted his teeth. Yukiya was jamming on multiple frequencies, making it all but impossible for the Britannians to use comms or sensors. But by the same token, his own side could only use comms on one frequency, and couldn't use active sensors at all. The blind and deaf were fighting the blind and nearly deaf; with the latter winning, for the moment.

"Some help you are," Neil grumbled.

"Blame Zero, not me," retorted Yukiya lightly. "He requested this setup."

Neil cut the connection, and turned his eyes back to his main screen. He would just have to do it the old-fashioned way. It wouldn't be the first time.

He looked down into the compound. There was no sign of the other Gloucesters. The downed one lay where it had fallen, and Neil watched as its pilot clambered out and sprinted towards one of the cell blocks.

For a moment, he thought about firing. A kill was a kill, in or out of the cockpit. One last knightmare pilot to fight Britannia's wars.

The pilot vanished from sight. Neil cursed himself, and zoomed out his camera. Fixating on a target was a good way to get himself killed.

Then he saw something. A vague something in the corner of his eye. He turned his camera to follow it, looking out into the night sky, over the settlement.

He could see them. Small shapes in the night sky, barely visible. He aimed his camera at them, and zoomed in.

He gritted his teeth, and jabbed at the comm panel.

"This is Zero," came the voice he had heard only once before.

"This is N1," replied Neil. They were going to have to come up with some better callsigns. "Aerial contacts inbound. Six gunships in three pairs, with knightmares behind."

"Can you stop them?"

"One or two, maybe. But they're coming in hard."

"Understood. Focus on the gunships and then relocate. Keep firing as long as you dare. We're bringing Tohdoh out now."

The connection cut, before Neil could reply.

"As long as you dare…" he muttered, as he keyed for Yukiya. "Yukiya, we've got enemy airborne incoming. We'll need to move in a minute."

"Right," replied Yukiya, apparently unconcerned. "Looks like I'll get to do some shooting after all."

(X)

Alexander gritted his teeth.

He could do nothing. He was fairly certain that sniper was up on the wall near one of the towers, but could not get a fix on him. The jamming was too strong, and the smoke from the fires was disrupting his optical targetters.

Meanwhile, Suzaku was all alone against four knightmares. They were new models, similar in appearance to the Guren Nishiki, but teal in colour, with a narrow head with a single orange eye.

He cursed. He wanted to go out there and help Suzaku, but he didn't dare; not with that sniper still out there. He was already a man down, and he could not help Suzaku by getting the rest shot down. He would just have to…

A flicker of light, and then a flash to his right. He looked, and saw a billowing flame drop slowly from the sky. Another flash, and another flame, falling alongside it.

His optical sensor caught on, lighting up his screen with a flurry of IFF icons. Four Raven gunships, firing flares as the jinked away from the incoming fire. Behind them was a dozen horseshoe-shaped VTOL transports, carrying Sutherlands.

Reinforcements were arriving. And the sniper was distracted.

"All units!" he barked into his comm. "Follow me! Assist Warrant officer Kururugi!"

He pressed down the pedals, his Gloucester leaping forward and rounding the corner, out into the wide gap. The Lancelot was up ahead, still menaced by its four assailants.

And there, off to one side, was the Guren, standing by the one of the cell blocks. In the wall nearby was a scorched black hole, over which a Burai was hanging by its Slash Harkens, facing inside.

Tohdoh. They were extracting Tohdoh!

All at once, the wall ahead of him erupted in a flurry of explosions. Alexander looked, and saw the four gunships emptying their rocket pods into one of the three towers. This done, they swooped in, hovering around the towers like raptors searching for prey, while twenty knightmare VTOLs swept into view behind them, dropping their blue-painted Sutherlands between the last two panopticon towers.

Reinforcements. At last.

"All units! Get those four away from Kururugi! Watch out for the red one!"

His subordinates obeyed, levelling their rifles and firing at the four teal knightmares. The quartet broke off, splitting away from the Lancelot in an ever-expanding spiral. For an instant Alexander watched, amazed, as one of them broke off in turn, the others falling in behind, the spiral becoming a column heading straight for him.

He had never seen such synchronicity. Not even from elite tournament teams. These four could only be the Four Holy Swords.

Four elite devicers, against himself, Rai, and three novices. Not good odds, unless…

A flash of crimson dashed his hopes. The Guren was moving, hurling itself at the Lancelot with its customary fury. Meanwhile, the Four Holy Swords had split from their column into a loose line, each squaring off against one of his subordinates. Each raised its left arm, and gunfire blazed from the autocannons set into them.

Alexander's heart clenched. The fire was tight and deadly. Rai was dodging well, even as the gunfire shredded his cape. But his novices were struggling, bullets spanging off their arms and legs, and more than a few off their pauldrons. And their return fire was doing far less, and the gap was closing.

He snarled, and slammed down the pedals, accelerating ahead of them. He aimed his pistols and fired, blazing desperately at the nearest enemy. The teal knightmare tried to dodge, but the bullets struck home, and smoke poured from its waist. The knightmare banked away, and another rounded on him, autocannon blazing. Alexander thumbed hard, selecting his chainblade. The black blade came out, lighting up as he turned hard, swinging the blade in a backhand blow. The teal knightmare pulled away just in time, the blade scoring across its gleaming plastron; leaving a smoking scar.

"THAT'S MINE!"

Alexander jammed down the pedals and yanked his joysticks, slewing away as another of the teal knightmares leapt at him, chainblade screaming as it came down overhead. The blade slashed through his billowing cloak, a piece of it flying away as Alexander fell back. The teal knightmare came at him again, roaring chainblade stabbing and slashing. He fell back, looking for an opening. But it was all he could do to dodge the snarling blade.

Desperate, he raised the pistol in his free hand, aiming for the knightmare's head. The knightmare reacted, lashing out with one arm, sending the pistol clattering away over the concrete. But Alexander saw his chance, and grabbed at the knightmare's arm. He pulled, catching the teal knightmare off-guard and sending it staggering forward. He thrust with his chainblade, but the knightmare pulled away, turning a killing thrust into a long, smoking scar across its flank. The knightmare turned on him, but staggered; its wound smoking and sparking. He had hurt it, at least.

Alexander fell back, looking around for his platoon. Two were down, the other two fighting desperately. Of the teal knightmares, two were in fighting trim, while the one he had damaged earlier had fallen back, and was providing covering fire with its autocannon. Meanwhile, the Lancelot and the Guren fought their desperate duel, the rest of the world forgotten.

His stomach clenched. His platoon was being slaughtered. He didn't even know if they were still alive. He had to get help, now! He turned to the Sutherlands…

And then stared, as the wall between two of the three towers suddenly blew in. As one the Sutherlands turned to face the explosion, as shapes emerged from the smoke, racing out into the compound.

(X)

Hamid let out a hiss.

He was liking this knightmare. A lot. The gold was a bit much, he had thought, but its capabilities more than made up for it. Even the weird motorcycle-style control system wasn't too bad, once he had gotten used to it.

He gunned the engine, accelerating towards the enemy. There were twenty-one of them; blue-painted Sutherlands, in three platoons of six with an HQ squad of three. Ordinarily he would take out the leader first; but he couldn't see one clearly. Their paint jobs were all standard, he couldn't see much in the way of markings.

A garrison unit. One that had not had the chance to earn personal emblems or paint jobs. Just like the one before.

Teeth gritted, Hamid lined up on the nearest Sutherland. The blue knightmare levelled its rifle and fired. Hamid dodged, slewing lightly to left and right, the bullets flying wide. He pushed out his legs, forcing down the pedals, driving faster and faster. As he closed, he broke left, and drove his long-clawed right hand straight into the Sutherland's plastron. He rounded behind the Sutherland in a tight arc, the momentum spinning the hapless knightmare around. With a touch on his trigger, he sent a quick burst of deadly microwave radiation into the Sutherland, and then let it go. It flew away, bouncing and rolling across the concrete, its body bubbling and smoking at the radiation's touch.

Already he was moving, charging at his next target; a Sutherland turning to face him. In his Gekka's left hand was a long stiletto dagger, long enough to cut a man in half. He grabbed with his right hand, catching the hapless Sutherland by the arm, then yanked to the right and drove his dagger down and up, into the Sutherland's waist. He drew back the dagger, continued the spin, and let the stricken knightmare go, sending it skidding away and crashing into one of its fellows; sending both tumbling to the ground.

Hamid snarled with joy. But his joy was short lived, as his Gekka lurched; red warning lights flashing on his HUD. Cursing himself, he sped away, bullets flashing past him. He came around hard, and saw three more Sutherlands formed up in a trio; all emptying their rifles towards him. Amateurs they might be, but they were starting to get organised. Time to take this seriously, unless…

One of the Sutherlands exploded. The other two broke apart, scattering away from the hail of gunfire to his right. Hamid looked, and saw five more Gekkas charging in, guns blazing.

All of them he knew, and well. At the head was Leila Malcal's pale blue Gekka, and beside it was Akito Hyuga's Gekka; painted white with pale blue highlights. Flanking him in turn was Ayano Kosaka's Gekka, hers in blue with pink highlights. On the other side of their loose chevron was Louise Halevy's Gekka, hers in red, and then Patrick Colasour; his in a darker blue.

Behind them was Ryo Sayama, in a heavy-looking blue Gekka with orange highlights. Hanging under his arms, two heavy autocannons blazed, while small hatches on his swollen shoulders popped open, sending missiles at the gunships overhead. Near him, Neil Dylandy and Yukiya Naruse had taken up position - Neil in green, Yukiya in blue with green highlights – joining in with their sniper rifles.

Hamid allowed them a smirk of satisfaction. Had he been a cavalryman of old, seated on a horse, a sharp scimitar in his hand, he would have doffed his hat as they passed. They were only young, most of them, but Colonel Mannequin and Lieutenant-Colonel Kujo had moulded them into a capable unit. And Leila Malcal might be naïve, but she led them well on the battlefield. She had talent, that one.

And on the battlefields of Krugis, he had seen far younger pilots do far greater deeds.

As Task Force Bolivar tore into the distracted Britannians, Hamid turned his eyes down the compound. Between the two lines of burning panopticon towers, he could see two tiny shapes racing towards him. His optical sensor was equal to the task, locking on and identifying the pair; an officer's Burai, and the Guren Nishiki. Behind them were four more Gekkas, the teal Gekkas of the Shisei-ken.

Hamid grinned. He didn't need the optical sensor to identify them. He had seen Burais in battle, and he had seen the Guren too; the prototype for the Gekka series. When he had asked Rakshata Chawla if his gold Gekka was a match for the crimson Guren, she had only smirked.

Then his grin widened, as he saw that two of the teal Gekkas were leaking smoke. And there were more contacts behind them, in hot pursuit.

This battle wasn't over. Not yet.

(X)

Lelouch stared at the battle, thinking hard.

Task Force Bolivar was anything but a disappointment. Around half the enemy Sutherlands were down, the rest falling back to his right. The gunships were all down, thanks to the two snipers and the heavy support model standing guard near the tower; and the large hole their comrades had blown in the wall.

It was going well, so very well. He hadn't expected the Lancelot or those six Gloucesters, and that oversight had cost him a dozen Burais. But the command centre and the panopticon towers were out of action, their weapons inactive. Better yet, he had Kyoshiroh Tohdoh, cupped in his Burai's hands.

He glanced back. There were the Gloucesters, only five now, with the Lancelot at their head; racing along in hot pursuit. The Shisei-ken were laying fire on them as best they could, forcing the six to dodge. But their fire was slackening, and two of them were still leaking smoke.

He should run, he knew. He should give the order, and clear out of there while there was still time.

But he couldn't. Not while Task Force Bolivar could still fight. Not while he had a chance like this.

"HQ," he said, keying for the MCV. "What's our status?"

"We've stirred up a hornet's nest, Zero," replied the nervous-sounding voice of Ougi. "Our decoy units are down, and recon reports enemy forces converging on you. The colonel recommends immediate withdrawal."

Lelouch was not much surprised, or even much offended. He had expected far worse from the hard-faced, harder-eyed Colonel Kati Mannequin; and he could tell that she was sceptical of such a slapdash operation. He could hardly blame her, considering what was happening.

"How's the camera feed?"

"Fine so far. The Britannians blocked us on BigGlobe, but we're still streaming on the underground. It's on all the news channels too."

Lelouch smirked. The command centres and weapons might be down, but the prison had plenty of security cameras still operable; offering a fine view of the night's drama. Diethard's team had successfully hacked their feed, and had transmitted it over the Britannian internet and a half-dozen underground networks too. No doubt the technicians over in the HQ bureau were running themselves ragged trying to cut the streams off, but they were wasting their time. The news networks had almost certainly seen the stream by at least one sort, and had sent in their own news VTOLs and camera drones. The authorities would scream and threaten and brandish the National Security Act, but footage like this was too good to miss.

That was why he had to do it. That was why he had to complete this drama, to crown it with the most perfect climax coincidence could have given him; short of Cornelia herself being there.

"Good. Order all units, the final act has begun. Ask the colonel to supervise."

"Understood."

Lelouch disconnected. All units still fighting would now disengage, and either disperse or move to their pre-arranged fallback positions. The drama would be over soon, and their part in it was all but over.

He looked up, and saw a grey HGV emerging from the hole. It drove past the Bolivar Gekkas, and raced towards him. Lelouch knew who it was, and what the HGV contained. It was Tohdoh's costume change.

All at once they met, in the open space between the last pair of panopticon towers. The HGV pulled up, and the Shisei-ken formed a skirmish line in front of it, keeping up their fire on their pursuers. Lelouch swung round behind it, and looked into the cab. CC was there, disguised in her truck driver's overalls and cap, looking expectantly at him. Lelouch gestured with one hand, and she pulled a lever by her seat; the HGV's rear hatches flipping open to reveal their precious cargo.

It was a knightmare, a custom Gekka in gleaming black; with twin tails of red hair hanging down to its knees, and a long sword sheathed at its hip. Lelouch deposited Tohdoh in the open cockpit, then rolled back round the HGV, pulling out his rifle.

"Tohdoh will be with us presently," he ordered. "We must hold off the Gloucesters, and watch for enemy reinforcements. Leave the Lancelot to Tohdoh."

All five chorused their affirmatives. Lelouch lined up with the Shisei-ken and levelled his rifle, firing quick bursts at the attackers. The Gloucesters split apart, firing back as they approached.

Then he saw it. One of them was firing not a rifle, but twin pistols.

"Alexander?"

Why? What was he doing there? Why was Alexander in a place like this? Did he somehow know?

He shook his head, gritting his teeth. Cornelia had clearly been expecting trouble, so why not send a half dozen knights to make sure? Their presence didn't mean anything!

A red blur filled his left screen. The Guren flashed past, charging straight at the Gloucester with the twin pistols. The Gloucester broke away, falling back and drawing a chainblade; the teeth glowing as it came online.

Lelouch's heart sank. Yes, it was him, for whatever reason. They had met again, in battle, as he had known they would.

Another flash, this time black, this time to his right. It was Tohdoh, charging straight at the Lancelot. The Lancelot turned to face him, twin swords at the ready. The black Gekka drew its own weapon, a broad-bladed chainblade, the teeth glowing as if eager to bite, to kill. The black blade came up, quick as lightning, sparks flaring as it struck one of the Lancelot's blades and knocked it aside. The Lancelot fell back, and the black Gekka came on, matching its every move.

The sight seemed to enliven the Shisei-ken, and they hurled themselves at the Gloucesters with renewed vigour. Lelouch watched as the two undamaged Gekkas double-teamed a Gloucester, slashing its waist and legs with their swords as they passed. The Gloucester fell to its knees, but the two Gekkas were already coming around, firing at another Gloucester as it turned to face them. The bullets hammered into its plastron, and tore away the right arm; taking its rifle with it. The Gloucester brought out its Stun Tonfa, but the Gekkas were upon it, taking it side-by-side and slashing with their swords. The Gloucester fell.

Lelouch wondered who those two were. With Yukiya's jamming still in place, the IFF system would not work; and his Burai's optical sensor was a lot less sophisticated than those of the Guren or the Gekkas. He could not tell which of the Shisei-ken was which; for they had insisted on identical paint jobs. It was their way, and he had not questioned or commented upon it.

Nor had he asked which one had previously owned Alexander's chainblade; the one he had taken at Narita. Perhaps he should.

Tohdoh was engaging the Lancelot again, and clearly had the edge. The white knightmare fell back, barely blocking the black Gekka's blows. It was enough to make Lelouch wonder what was wrong with the pilot. Did he not want to fight?

Tohdoh was not so restrained. Lelouch watched, heart leaping, as he struck again and again, the black chainblade cutting and slicing. Yes, this night had cost him, but it would all be worth it; for Tohdoh was everything he had been promised.

Then a flash, and sparks. And Lelouch almost cried out in triumph, as the black blade cut into the Lancelot's cockpit, slicing it open like a boiled egg. The Lancelot froze, and Lelouch zoomed in, eager to see the face of the pilot; the one who had given him so much trouble.

"No…"

His blood ran cold. All his triumph, all his joy, vanished like smoke on the wind, as he saw the pilot's face.

"Suzaku…"

It was Suzaku Kururugi. It could not be anyone else. That brown hair, those green eyes, that look of grim determination on a face that was made for gentle smiles.

But…why? Why? What was he doing there? How could he be a devicer? He wasn't even a knight! He was supposed to be an engineer! Why was he fighting for Britannia?

Both of them. Alexander, his brother; Suzaku, his friend. He was fighting both of them!

He had lost both of them!

A horrible, shrieking laugh erupted from his throat. Lelouch sat there, shaking like a leaf, laughing like a madman, as his soul turned inside out. The world was wrong. Reality had failed. Fate itself was trying to destroy him.

Both of them!

"Zero!" Kallen's voice cut through the madness . "Zero! What's wrong!? Are you okay!?"

He managed to look up. Alexander had gotten away from Kallen, but she had broken off her pursuit and was hurrying back towards him. The Shisei-ken were falling back, while two still-active Gloucesters formed up around their fallen comrades. The Lancelot was still standing, still with swords at the ready, while the Black Gekka faced off against it, sword raised, ready.

He wondered, for a moment, what was passing between them. What did teacher and student have to say to one-another, after all these years?

Was Tohdoh holding back too?

A flash of gold to his left. Lelouch looked, and saw a gold Gekka emerge from behind a cell block. It was Gary Biaggi's Gekka, and it was heading straight for the Lancelot.

"No!" he shrieked. "Don't do it! Biaggi!"

(X)

Hamid's grin became a grimace.

Perfect. There was the Lancelot, already damaged, and with its back to him. And there was Tohdoh, holding back.

Well, if he didn't want to...

"No! Don't do it! Biaggi!"

For a moment, Hamid was surprised. Why was Zero shrieking like that? Didn't he want the Lancelot put down?

He accelerated, bearing down on the hapless Lancelot, readying the Radiant Wave Surger. His battery was down to thirty-seven per cent, giving him maybe one shot. That was all he would need.

His teeth bared, snarling in triumph, as he closed the gap and leapt. The Lancelot began to turn, the hapless pilot glancing up at him; his eyes bright with sudden fear. Hamid's snarl became a shriek, as he thrust the clawed hand down; releasing the deadly radiation.

"You're mi-gah!"

Then he was falling, tumbling sideways as something crashed into him. On reflex he thrust out his legs, his Gekka lurching as it landed and skidded. He looked up, shrieking in rage; aching to destroy whatever had dared deny him his kill.

It was a Gloucester; its armour dented and scorched, its cape shredded. There was a chainblade in its hand; held at en-garde position.

Him.

For an instant, he was back in Caerleon, at the military academy, on that dark night all those years ago. He could still see that little face, those eyes, staring up at him.

Him. Why him? Why did he keep running into him, over and over and over again? Was it fate?

"Why do you keep getting my way…" he growled. "You damn brat!"

Behind the Gloucester, the Lancelot slumped to its knees; its right side scorched and warped by the wave surger's radiation. The target was down, but not out. He could still salvage this. He aimed his autocannon.

"Biaggi! Stop!"

Hamid paused, as the Guren shot in front of him, blocking his path.

"Are you deaf or something!?" barked its pilot; that redhead girl from Yokosuka. "The enemy's here! We have to fall back!"

"Get outta my way!" snarled Hamid, enraged. "He's mine!"

"Zero gave you an order!" shrieked the girl. "We have to go! Now!"

Hamid opened his mouth to curse her. Then he saw the flicker of movement in the corner of his eye, and leapt back in reflex. It saved his life, as explosions erupted all around him. He fell back, heart pounding, and saw four more VTOL gunships hovering over the still-burning gatehouse, emptying their rocket pods into the compound. And through the gate below them, Sutherlands were swarming.

Hamid gritted his teeth, his blood boiling. But there was nothing to be done for it.

"Next time," he hissed, turning his Gekka around and accelerating away.

(X)

Alexander watched as the Black Knights withdrew, clouds of thick smoke billowing all around them. This was not the smoke of damage, or from the rockets, but camouflage smoke, hiding the raiders from view.

He looked up and down, side to side. But there was nothing and no one to see. Just clouds of smoke, billowing up into the night sky.

"Sir Alexander!"

Another Gloucester pulled up beside him; armour pristine, cloak flying in the wind. It was Sir Gilbert Guilford; and behind him came a dozen blue Sutherlands, racing past him and forming a cordon. Overhead, four gunships few slowly over the smoke, noses lowered, railguns at the ready.

"Sir Alexander, are you all right?" asked Guilford. For a few moments, Alexander did not reply. His mind was a blank, his body so heavy.

"My…platoon," he murmured, trying to master himself.

"They're all right," insisted Guilford. "Sir Schnee called us from the gatehouse. They're all fine."

Alexander looked around, at the sorry sight that was his platoon. Rai and Marika were still on their feet, but their knightmares were scorched and blasted, their capes shredded. Lilliana and Ledo were down, but he could see them clambering out of their wrecked knightmares, seemingly unharmed.

They were alive. They were safe. But…

He looked around again. The smoke had cleared, but there was no sign of the Black Knights. Just wrecked Sutherlands, and the fires.

"My lord…" It was Ledo. "My lord, we've failed you."

Alexander sighed. He actually sounded sincere.

"No, Sir Ledo," he replied. "I've failed you. All of you."

And he had. Tohdoh had escaped, the prison was in a shambles, and the garrison had been slaughtered. What excuse could he offer? How was he to atone?

Alexander watched the smoke, as it drifted away over the prison, despair settling over his soul.

(X)

"What the fuck was that about!"

Kallen glowered, as a very angry Gary Biaggi glared down at her with a face like thunder.

They had escaped from the Britannian reinforcements, and fled into the old underground tunnels. Their current hiding place was a two-lane road tunnel; the road itself strewn with rubble and debris, the lights in the ceiling long since failed. Despite that, there was still room for the knightmares, and the MCV and the HGV. The knightmares were hunkered down, and tech crews were working on them; checking them for damage, making repairs where they could, and changing the Energy Fillers.

"What's your problem?" she demanded, standing up. She was tired, and getting angry. She couldn't even have a drink of water in peace, not with this guy stomping around the place.

"My problem is with your boss!" snapped Biaggi.

"What's your deal!? Something crawl up your ass and die!?" growled Tamaki. He had been talking with one of the Bolivar pilots, an Irishman by the name of Neil Dylandy; who regarded Biaggi with wary eyes. "Zero gave the order!"

"I had them," Biaggi growled back, turning and stalking towards Tamaki. "I had them both. If it weren't for him and you," he shot Kallen a particularly nasty glare.

"You saw it yourself!" she retorted. She would not be intimidated by this man. "We had to go, or they'd have slaughtered us! We stayed too long as it is!"

Others were watching now. The Bolivar guys looked on with wary suspicion, the Shisei-ken with sour disinterest. She wasn't quite sure who they meant it for.

"Monsieur Biaggi!'

Kallen looked, and almost gaped at the person approaching. It was a girl of about her own age, with a mane of billowing blonde hair, and a pair of piercing purple eyes. She wore a g-force suit like Kallen's own, but in blue; and like the rest of Task Force Bolivar, it carried no emblem.

"Monsieur, Zero made the right call," the girl went on. "We were outnumbered five to one, with more to come. To continue was suicidal, even for you."

Biaggi scoffed. The girl did not flinch.

"I had a clear shot at the Lancelot," he went on. "Now, from what Zero has been telling me, that guy has been nothing but trouble. One burst, that was all I needed. But he" he jabbed an accusing finger at Zero's Burai "screamed at me to stop. Not that I'd care, but she" he jabbed a thumb at Kallen, "got in my way. A few seconds, Captain Malcal. That was all I needed. But because of him, I got nothing."

He glowered up at the Burai; from which Zero had yet to emerge.

"He'd better have an explanation." he growled. "And it had better be good."

Malcal. So that was Leila Malcal; Bolivar's tactical commander. Kallen hadn't had chance to introduce herself yet, and wasn't quite sure how to go about it. Now was not the time in any case.

"Look, we completed our mission," she retorted. "We got Tohdoh out, we smashed up the prison, and we took out two whole companies of knightmares! I don't know about you, but I call that a good night!"

She tried not to think about the twelve Burais lost, from which only seven pilots had managed to escape. Or about the dummy raids, that had left the better part of fifty fighters dead. At least their deaths had counted for something, this time.

Biaggi glared at her, with a glare that sent a shiver down her spine. Then he turned on his heel and stalked off.

"I apologise for his conduct," Malcal said, turning to face her. "I am sure he will cool down."

"No, it's okay," Kallen insisted. "I can handle guys like him."

She wondered if she sounded as confident as she felt. She could only hope so.

"I fear I didn't catch your name," Malcal asked, smiling pleasantly.

"Oh, uh, Kozuki…Kallen Kozuki."

"Captain Leila Malcal, Tactical Commander, Task Force Bolivar." The blonde snapped off a crisp salute. "Professor Chawla told me you were the Guren Nishiki's pilot. You fought splendidly, mademoiselle."

"Oh, wow…" Kallen blushed, taken aback. She hadn't expected such a compliment, though it seemed sincere. "You guys were something else too."

"Thank you, mademoiselle. We do our best."

They regarded one-another for a few moments. Kallen wondered just who this girl was, and what she had done to get where she was. Had a girl like this, a girl her own age, really led troops into battle? Something about her made it easy to believe.

"I was hoping to speak with Zero," Leila went on, glancing towards the Burai. "But he doesn't seem to have come out yet."

Kallen looked up at the Burai. Still it sat there, unmoving, seemingly lifeless.

Now, out of the fighting, without adrenalin and danger to focus her mind, Kallen began to wonder. Why had Zero flipped out like that? Why had he screamed and panicked like that?

Now that she thought about it, Biaggi had a point. He'd had Suzaku dead-on, and would have got him if that Waldstein guy hadn't dived in. But Zero had tried to stop him before then. Not after his attack failed, but before; just after Suzaku had been exposed.

Suzaku…

That was the part she really didn't get. Waldstein and a bunch of his fellow Royal Guards being there, she could just about get her head around. But Suzaku piloting the Lancelot?

It made no sense. The boy she knew, the boy who cheerfully played along with Milly's deranged schemes, got persecuted by a cat, and actually seemed to enjoy bouncing around in a skirt, did not belong in a knightmare; even without the whole Honourary Britannian thing. She knew he was involved with ASEEC - everyone knew that - but he was supposed to be an engineer or something!

She could have lived with that. She was fine with him being a silly, good-natured, overgrown child. She could have forgiven him for doing some light work with some semi-secret special military unit; though many of her compatriots would not have done.

But piloting a knightmare? Piloting that knightmare? No, that made him the enemy. That made him a legitimate target.

So then why? Why had Zero flipped out like that? Did he want Suzaku spared for some reason? Did he have some plan for him? Or was it something else?

"He'll be out in a minute," she said, remembering where she was. "He's had a lot on over the past week."

Then, for the first time, she saw CC. The green-haired girl was standing by the Burai. Kallen hadn't seen her approach, yet there she was, staring up at the cockpit.

Staring, with a look of pity, that made Kallen's heart ache.

Who was she to Zero?

Who, for that matter, was Zero?

(X)

And here it is, after a longer than expected delay.

I really hope you all enjoy this. There was a lot to cover, and it ended up growing beyond that. This was an important bit in the original anime, and with all the material that's been added since then, plus the context of this story, it's become even more important.

There are a couple of things worth mentioning here. One is the Euro-Britannians, notably Shin and his family, at the ball. Zaru and I have plans for these characters, so it made sense to at least introduce them now. It was also a convenient opportunity to drop a little backstory about the Britannian invasion of Russia. I had the idea of the Cossack uprising while writing this, and I think it adds a little something.

But the real meat of this, I think, is the politics; and much of it only occurred to me while writing. I've always thought that the Purists and Euro-Britannia would be mortal (political) enemies, since their ideals are so at odds. This is not as strange as it sounds, since it fits the political and ideological infighting that tormented the Japanese Empire during WW2; the latter being, incidentally, a major influence on Code Geass. Shin, as I see it, would be particularly significant, for despite being Japanese, he was able to attain full Britannian citizenship (due to being adopted by the Shaings) and rise to a position of power in the Euro-Britannian movement. I have little doubt that had he tried to do that in the regular forces, he would have faced prejudice and resistance; and quite possibly assassination attempts by the Purists.

Contrast Suzaku, who had to labour under the label of Honourary Britannian simply because he never got Shin's lucky break. It actually makes for an interesting plot hook; Suzaku getting adopted as a child by a Britannian family, maybe the Ashfords. Growing up as Milly's little brother would doubtless have shaped him into a quite different man; hopefully a happier one, though perhaps not a saner one.