It wasn’t every day that someone boldly declared they personally killed a Prince of Britannia’s Imperial Family. In fact, most people would fervently and desperately deny it with everything they had, lying like irredeemable scumbags and even tossing their own family into the fire if it meant attention would be off them for even one more second. This was not due to an inherent moral flaw within humanity, but simply because the Holy Britannian Empire strove to make a horrid example of any such people they managed to get their hands on. The Imperial Family was the symbol of Britannia, and any attack against them was an attack against the nation as a whole. In all of the Holy Britannian Empire’s long history, since the shameful and never-fully avenged time when Napoleon kicked their ancestors out of their birth land, there has been nothing Britannians fought and died for harder than the Emperor and his progeny.
The only ones who would openly pride themselves on such an act, wearing it like a badge of honor, were rebels and terrorists, people who covered behind the shield of anonymity and untraceability in order to escape reprisal, and complete madmen with not a single ounce of self-preservation.
Nina Einstein wasn’t sure which one of those labels applied to Lelouch. Definitely the latter, but by what she observed so far there was a strong possibility of some serious overlap with at least another of those three labels. Then she remembered her fellow Student Council member was an exiled Prince of said Empire with very valid reasons to hate any member of his family that wasn’t named Nunnally. “Lelouch, Amiya. I want to keep things on a strictly scientific and professional level but I’m finding it very hard to do so.” The green-haired girl groaned, pulling up her glasses and rubbing her eyes. “I know it’s also my fault, but how about from now on you give me a signal when you want to discuss things I really shouldn’t be listening to so I have the time to make myself scarce. Please.”
“...A reasonable request.” Lelouch replied tactfully, but without promising anything. While it would be ideal to keep Nina ignorant of his and Rhodes Island’s future actions against Britannia, especially now that his Geass didn’t work on her anymore (likely a one-time use for individual, Clovis answered more than one question but unlike Nina he never snapped out of the trance), he couldn’t be certain such strategy would be sustainable in the long term. Oh sure, Nina herself didn’t want to get involved and once Kallen was stable she would not have a reason to return to the buried landship, but she would still know. And as she just recently proved, with her shyness now out of the equation Nina revealed herself to be a very perceptive and inquisitive young woman.
How long did they have before her desire to know more overrode her logical side? Lelouch himself knew painfully well how unbearable the need for answers could become. And while he and Nina were on two different planets in regard to their personal situations, this was still her life’s dream. The goal she fully dedicated herself to, body and soul. That, at least, was worth his respect.
“Uhm, Miss Einstein? Please listen to me.” Amiya began, seemingly struggling to find the right words but pushing on regardless. “I know what Lelouch did was bad, but there were... I wouldn’t say the reasons should be called good, no matter what, but the circumstances...”
“Mh? Oh, you mean him killing Prince Clovis? Don’t worry about it.” Nina waved her off, just sparing the Cautus a single unconcerned glance. “After all, they’re both Royals.”
Amiya stared, less shocked by Nina’s words and more by the fact she could tell the green-haired girl truly wasn’t placing much importance on the subject.
“Normally people consider kinslaying a big deal.” Kal'tsit pointed out, finding the whole situation just odd enough to spark some curiosity.
“Well, you’re right. But when it comes to how Royal Family members treat each other it’s kind of... not expected, but common?” Nina shrugged. “History lessons are full of ‘this Prince conspired against his cousin and had him hanged’, ‘this Princess staged a bandit attack to eliminate her love rival’ and the like. Sure they cover everything as much as they can, but give it two generations or so and everyone is parading around their predecessors' flaws while claiming moral superiority.”
“There’s a reason I don’t have uncles or cousins, Amiya. It’s called the Emblem of Blood.” Lelouch’s tone was that of a man describing a mass grave after becoming desensitized to it through repeated and forced proximity. “Don’t look it up with a full stomach.”
“I’m starting to wonder more and more how your birth country survived for so long, Lelouch. The answer is probably just as distasteful as what I learned of it so far.” Kal'tsit closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. Even without looking up the history books the Feline doctor could make an educated guess thanks to her large experience with many different types of countries, some of which she personally witnessed dying. With a few she even actively aided in their destruction, a necessity at the time but since she started working with Babel Kal'tsit tried to distance herself from those methods as much as possible.
“Amiya, Lelouch. You better go talk with the Doctor, it’s true we cannot let this sham go on but the how is important. And right now you’re the only one here who knows how the Britannian military will likely proceed.” She gestured to the black-haired boy. “Miss Einstein and I will continue to monitor Miss Kozuki and iron out the details for a little while longer before sending her home.”
“I probably need some sleep, uh?” Nina yawned loudly, then froze before looking away with a hand over her mouth, pink spreading over her cheeks. Newfound confidence or not, suddenly yawning in front of people was still embarrassing. “Aaah, at this point I’ll miss school too... Nah, the Principal will either cancel it or people will be too distracted to notice my absence.” Not like she couldn’t afford to skip a day or two, she spent enough hours in the computer room during the weekends to deserve some free time.
“Sounds about right.” Good thing Lelouch warned Nunnally that he may be absent for a whole day or more. Leaving his sister again so soon, even if in Sayoko and Shirayuki’s company, left a bitter taste in his mouth but at least she has been understanding about the unorthodox situation despite Lelouch being scarce on details beyond ‘some people helped me so now I’m returning the favor’. Suzaku needed his help now, if the Britannians were so desperate as to speed things up so much then there was no telling how much time he and Rhodes Island had left to mount up a rescue: would they jump straight to an execution... No, the sequence of events in the news has been obviously tailored for maximum shock effect so it meant the ones holding the reins in Clovis’ place were making a show out of it to gain popularity. That meant pretending to follow the law, even if the conclusion was foregone, and in true Britannian fashion making it as pretentious and grandiose as possible.
A sketch of an idea began to form within Lelouch’s mind. Now he just needed to hammer out the details.
====
“Well, I would say this is definitely a bit of a pickle.” The Doctor commented with fake levity, watching the news’ recording playing on his terminal. Pausing it he put down the device and raised his head, the mask’s visor ‘squinting’ inquisitively. “Who is this Margrave Gottwald? Clovis’ second in command?”
“No, that would be General Bartley Asprius, and he’s currently being investigated for allowing Clovis to die under his watch.” Lelouch answered, scrolling through his phone as he made a few inquiries online. Nothing that would draw suspicion, but thanks to the knowledge he’d collected over the years it was enough to give him a clear picture. “Gottwald is the leader of the Pureblood faction. They’re a very elitist group that claims direct descendance from the original British aristocrats that followed Elizabeth III in exile and strongly oppose the system of honorary citizenship, especially their ability to serve in the military. They likely decided to use the sudden power vacuum to try to finally push their own agenda.”
“Try to finally...? You mean they didn’t have much influence before?” Amiya asked with a frown. From what she’d read so far of Britannia’s honorary citizenship, it was clear the system had many flaws, but at least it allowed people to buy food and have a roof above their heads. Back on Terra, the majority of Infected didn’t even have that luxury; only Columbia came close, and even then it tended to be a pipe dream at the best of times.
Lelouch’s lips quirked upward in a mocking smile. “Their claim of direct descendance is just that, a claim. The original core population of Britannian nobles was so small they established a very stratified and highly classist social hierarchy to protect themselves, but it was only a stopgap measure and before long their descendants intermixed with the new nobility that arose from Britannia’s participation in numerous conflicts and the resulting many battlefield promotions. Furthermore the honorary citizenship system is an effective method to stabilize an area, if only because it promotes infighting within the conquered population, so those who aren’t blinded by worthless pride hardly want to see it done away with.”
“Mm... that, and it would deprive the military of a lot of manpower.” The Doctor hummed grimly.
That those people were probably treated as disposable was left unsaid, but everyone present was already aware of it on some level. In Lelouch’s case, he personally witnessed it when Clovis’ Royal Guard shot Suzaku in the back. He was certain his old friend had died... but in hindsight, perhaps that was his fault for assuming; with how dire the straits had been at the time, a premature conclusion was almost inevitable. Suzaku’s body armor, the gun firing a small caliber, another Honorary Britannian with a medical background finding him... Any combination of those factors could have resulted in Suzaku’s life being saved, and with the Royal Guard dead thanks to Rhodes’ subsequent retaliation, nobody was left to accuse the Japanese boy of ‘treason’. Until now, that is.
The Doctor began to tap his chin with a finger. “If the Pureblood are against Honorary Britannians, then it’s not by chance they chose one as a scapegoat. They’re going to use Kururugi Suzaku’s alleged crime as an excuse to abolish the system. Still, hell of a coincidence they chose your friend for it!”
“Less than you may think. I don’t believe Suzaku was randomly chosen among the Japanese soldiers present at Shinjuku.” Lelouch shook his head. “Army recruiters are one thing, but there's no way the Pureblood didn’t have their analysts run a detailed background check.”
Amiya tilted her head. “Why? Is Suzaku someone important?”
“After a fashion: his late father, Genbu Kururugi, was the last Prime Minister of Japan.” The Cautus’ eyes widened in surprise at the news, while the Doctor leaned forward attentively. “You already know my sister and I were sent to Japan as political hostages. What I didn’t mention is that we lived there for a year under the care of Genbu.”
Lelouch frowned as he cast his mind back on those memories. “Well, I say ‘care’ but in truth after the first meeting we saw him only once or twice, and he never interacted with us for long. Genbu was... a focused man, utterly dedicated to his job at the expense of everything else. I have no doubt he realized my sister and I were worthless as hostages even before we got to Japan, so he did the bare minimum that was expected of him as a host and then probably forgot we existed: we had a roof above our heads, a monthly allowance to buy food and could access his estate, but that was it.” Which, given the circumstances at the time, had been perfectly fine for his younger self, too paranoid to trust anyone else with taking care of Nunnally. He’d needed to learn many new skills during the initial few months, and despite how difficult it has been he didn’t regret it one bit.
“That’s when you became friends with Suzaku?” Amiya asked with a gentle smile.
“More or less: he stormed into the house during the first day, called me a heartless bastard and then kicked my ass.” Lelouch snorted, deeply amused by the stares his two interlocutors were giving him. “Suzaku was very reckless and impulsive as a child, even if he seems to have mellowed out somewhat. He’d heard bad things about Britannia, so in his mind I, a Prince, must obviously have been the same. It’s only thanks to Nunnally getting through his thick skull that we became friends.”
To say it has been a rocky start would be an understatement, but at least it’d given way to better times.
“...Not the worst first impressions I’ve ever heard of. Pretty sure Irene and Skadi have you beat.” The Doctor nodded, remembering how that meeting went. Despite not being present at the time, the Iberian Inquisitor described the event to him in great detail... after much prodding on his part. “Then, you eventually lost touch with each other?”
Lelouch’s expression fell, his demeanor notably clouding over. “A year later, Britannia’s invasion began, and we only just managed to escape the Kururugi Villa. I carried Nunnally, and Suzaku... Suzaku took care of everything else.” Lelouch’s mood darkened considerably as memories of what they saw, what they had to do to survive played through his mind. Amiya winced, likely realizing what three kids alone in a war-torn country meant. “Eventually, we were found by the Ashfords: Nunnally and I went with them, while Suzaku was given the means to meet with some of Genbu’s contacts that survived the war. However, I later found out that he never contacted them, so I thought...”
The exiled Prince shook his head, dismissing the shadows of his past: whatever happened before, the fact was that his friend was alive and in danger now, and that was what he needed to focus on. “We met again during Shinjuku, before I found your buried landship. In fact, Suzaku was present when the capsule that contained C.C. opened, but I doubt he considers her more than a victim of kidnapping. If I tell him she just ran away before giving me a name, he’ll believe me.”
“While I’m not a fan of deception, it’s for the best that the whereabouts of Miss C.C. remain a secret for now.” The Doctor agreed, one hand rubbing his chin. “More importantly, if the Pureblood found out about Kururugi’s Suzaku’s parentage... Ah, of course. Even if he managed to kill an Imperial Prince, he was still caught and executed. Some will hail him as a martyr, but the majority of Japanese will be demoralized. Giving the Pureblood an easier time abolishing the honorary citizenship system and cracking down even harder on the population.”
Cruel, but clever... in the short term. Considering what Lelouch said, even if the Pureblood succeed they would be able to do so only in Japan, the resulting hole in their military forces requiring them to request reinforcements from the mainland. Giving a chance to get involved to other, more powerful actors that may not want to share command with the Pureblood. But even if their eventual fall from grace was inevitable, they would still do a lot of damage in the meantime so it was imperative Rhodes Island nip their power play in the bud.
“It’s possible they’re also baiting Japan’s resistance organizations into attempting a rescue, like the Japanese Liberation Front. Kyoshiro Tohdoh, one of the JLF’s higher members and a national war hero, was Suzaku’s instructor in martial matters.” Lelouch remembered Tohdoh relatively more fondly than Genbu; the man was around more often, and while always very formal and of few words, he never treated the exiled royals coldly. Also, watching Suzaku repeatedly fail to defeat Todoh while sparring never got old. That he managed to earn a victory against Britannia even without Knightmares on his own, only through sheer tactics, earned Lelouch’s respect.
Honestly, rather than an Honorary Britannian Lelouch would have expected Suzaku to be part of the JLF: why did Todoh let his old student fight for the enemy? Could it be they had a fallout of some kind? Even now, Suzaku’s choice puzzled Lelouch’s greatly... but he dismissed it with a shake of his head. A question to ponder later, when Suzaku’s head wasn’t on the chopping block.
“One more reason to act.” Amiya nodded resolutely before her expression turned uncertain. “Though, how I’m not so sure. What would be the best course of action? Break into the prison where they’re keeping Kururugi?”
“That’s an option. We could ask for Mountain, Kafka and Robin’s help, they’ve done it before.” A ‘smile’ appeared on the Doctor’s visor. “Well, they broke out of prison, but I’m sure it can’t be more secure than Mansfield, so it should be close enough right?”
“No. I’m quite sure there’s a big difference between the two.” Lelouch deadpanned, stealing a quick glance at Amiya who just chuckled awkwardly. “Furthermore, it’s not necessary: I have a proposal that will allow us to not only rescue Suzaku, but also result beneficial in other ways.”
“Oh? Do tell.”
Having already spotted a whiteboard with markers when he first entered the room, perfect for his goals, Lelouch walked up to it and began drawing. “This is still a draft of course, but I already thought about how the Pureblood will organize Suzaku’s trial and reached those conclusions. To start, we’ll need to acquire some specific transportation...”
====
In the end, once no one had anything left to add, silence descended on the room as the two Terrans and one Earth-born looked at the whiteboard. Lelouch wore a satisfied expression, Amiya looked torn between bewilderment and worry, and the Doctor was methodically tilting his head to and fro, two short lines replacing his eyes. In the end he was the one to speak first. “This is ballsy as hell. And that’s me saying it.”
“Doctor!” Amiya chastized him for the coarse language, but the only response she got was the Doctor’s visor ‘smiling’ airily at her until she relented with an aggrieved sigh. “But yes, I agree this plan is very daring. And flashy. And, and not subtle at all!”
“This is by design. And necessity.” Lelouch insisted. “Britannia does not possess only a strong military, but also a carefully cultivated myth of invincibility that allows them to obtain results without needing to fire a single shot and galvanizes their population to the extreme. To really challenge them, we need to attack both.”
“Hey Amiya, remember when Kal'tsit told us that no matter how good our Operators are, there was no way we could go against the military of a whole nation?” The Doctor chuckled, a grim undertone lacing his voice. “How far we’ve come.”
“That was different! We were trying to infiltrate Chernobog without getting noticed by Ursus’ army!” Despite her words, Amiya’s bunny ears drooped in silent admission that, yes, different circumstances didn’t make the challenge that awaited them less daunting.
“And, to be fair, at the moment I don’t have a better plan. If the Pureblood’s next actions are as Lelouch predicted, I admit that is the best moment to strike.” The Doctor looked at said youth. “All that being said, however... you’re still left with one more hurdle: it’s not just us who need to greenlight this.”
“You’re referring to those who could be considered as this company’s executives.” Lelouch surmised, receiving a nod in response. “I expected as much, and I’m ready to personally talk to them.”
A part of the raven-haired young man was confident he could rescue Suzaku even with just himself and a pair of helpers, using nothing but bluffs and his Geass. Even relished the challenge and opportunity it presented, to an extent... but it would by no means be ideal. He needed the world to rally behind Rhodes Island, not just Lelouch Lamperouge. This was no longer a stage he could hold by himself, Lelouch had accepted that the moment he decided to gamble on the dimensionally displaced company.
But if it helped inflict an even greater wound on Britannia? Then a tiny piece of his ego was a fitting price to pay.
“Perfect!” The Doctor clapped his hands and rose from his seat. “Amiya and I will need some time to gather everyone; in the meantime I have something for you to do.”
Walking back to the table, the masked man picked up a stack of papers and handed them to Lelouch. “What is this?” The exiled prince briefly scanned the documents, noting they were some kind of form to be filled with personal details.
“The documents to provisionally enlist you as an Operator ooof... Rhodes Island Pharmaceuticals Inc!” The man bombastically proclaimed, arms spread wide and visor displaying the animation of popping confetti.
Lelouch and Amiya stared at the Doctor, the Cautus chuckling awkwardly under her breath while the purple-eyed youth had a very, very flat expression on his face. It kept going for a few seconds before the Doctor deflated, ‘tears’ trailing down his visor. “Come on, you could at least play along! Do you know how long I waited for a chance to be the one to first welcome a new Operator?”
“Clearly not long enough.” Lelouch struck back without mercy or sympathy, for he had none left in his body. He looked at the form again. “Is this about your offer back then? A show of commitment?”
“We would never force someone to be an Operator. It has to be voluntary or there is no meaning to it.” Amiya shook her head before smiling softly. “But, it would be great if you were to join us as a fellow comrade.”
Lelouch had thought about it after Shinjuku. Formally joining Rhodes Island meant following the orders of those above him... yet it also meant the opportunity to rise through the organization’s ranks and gain more authority. There were costs and benefits alike to this choice, but the same could be said of his current outsider status.
He looked at the top of the first page, where Rhodes’ motto was emblazoned next to the company’s logo.
May I enjoy my life and practice my art. Respected by all men and in all times.
Nothing pretentious, just a small and honest prayer. Something that millions of people in different circumstances asked for every day. The very basis of what it means to be human. But even something as simple as this was denied to many. For Rhodes Island it was the Infected, lives stolen by something they had no control over. For him it was the people of conquered Areas who, just because they were willing to work alongside others instead of exploiting them, were judged unworthy of even a name.
“Never expected to one day end up working for a medical company. Life’s full of surprises.” Lelouch sighed softly, his response causing Amiya’s smile to widen considerably in happiness. Even the Doctor, having recovered, had a ‘smiling eyes’ emoticon on his visor. “Do I just need to fill out the form and sign at the end?”
“That’s the starting point. Normally it would be followed by a series of tests to measure your physical potential, combat skills and Arts aptitude, but they’re time-consuming so they can wait. To handle the rest and get you registered in the system, you need to talk with the Human Resource Department.”
====
The process to register as an Operator of Rhodes Island turned out to be pleasantly intuitive, despite its bureaucratic nature.
“Again, why can’t I add a cape?!”
Lelouch just had to write down his generalities, history and skills he believed would be relevant in his new role. Even better, if he didn’t want to disclose a certain detail, he could just write [PRIVATE] and they would just accept it even if he filled the whole form with them. The only thing HR wouldn’t accept was false information, a simple request to grant.
“Because... because it could become a serious hazard during combat if it snags on something...”
“What Bibeak means is that it's needlessly gaudy and makes you look even more like a pompous fool.”
After his civilian profile was complete, it was time to define Lelouch’s identity as an Operator when acting in an official capacity. That required him to choose a Codename and an outfit that was both comfortable and fit for combat. Something Lelouch had assumed would be finished in a swift and timely manner.
“Miss Orchid, with all due respect that’s absolutely rich coming from you!” Lelouch jabbed a finger at the sketch attached to the wall. “Which part of this outfit is gaudy?”
That was three hours ago.
Standing on the sidelines, watching the normally meek Bibeak refusing to give even an inch and Orchid fully supporting her as they ‘discussed’ matters with an incessantly stubborn Lelouch, were two members of the HR Department. Both seated, both slowly sipping from thoroughly lukewarm cups of coffee, and both bearing the thousand-year stares of someone who’d had their soul thoroughly splintered, crushed and ground to dust.
“How are they not tired yet?” The first muttered in a daze.
“They’re maniacs, all three of them.” The second groaned back, staring deep into his mug in despair. “Shit, even enlisting Cuora wasn’t this difficult.”
“Wasn’t she an amnesiac we found sleeping on the roof?”
“Yes, and who do you think needed to teach her basically everything?”
THWACK!
The HR Operators were forced to refocus on their latest source of misery as Orchid stabbed Lelouch’s sketch with her parasol as though it owed her money.
“First, dark purple with golden stripes? Not saying they’re not a good combination, but do you really want to shout out to the world ‘look at me, I’m a noble and yet I possess not an ounce of subtlety’?” Lelouch stiffed when Orchid said the word ‘noble’, glancing at the sketch with a look that was almost... hostile?
“The wrapped sleeves and frilled cravat are good elements, but not when combined with the rest. I mean... why a bodysuit? I’m sorry, but it just doesn’t make sense.” Bibeak continued, a firm and uncharacteristic conviction in her words. “The mask’s overall design is fine, we cannot help with the inner mechanisms you requested, that’s something to take up with Engineering... but the spikes have to go.”
Lelouch crossed his arms over his chest, far from cowed. “You said to choose what I am willing to turn into my iconic appearance. The color scheme can be changed, I suppose, but I worked on this design within my mind for a while now, and I’m confident in it.”
“Lelouch, I can tell you poured your soul into this. That’s not the problem.” Bibeak shook her head by just a tiny amount. She was telling the truth, she could see in the way that Lelouch drew the sketch that he had a lot of practice. However... “I’m just wondering if you wanted to go somewhere with this concept... but instead, ended up returning to where you started.”
Because one of the first lessons Bibeak’s father had taught her was that giving shape to an idea sometimes revealed an unexpected, possibly unwanted, side of both the concept and its originator.
A lesson that was proving to be quite accurate as the raven-haired youth’s body language instantly changed from defiant to guarded, his expression flattening. “...I am not sure I understand what you mean, Miss Bibeak.”
Before Bibeak could answer, Orchid heaved a pointed sigh, pushing aside feathered hair to gently rub her forehead. “We’re getting nowhere at breakneck pace at this rate. How about a break? A moment to sort out our thoughts, and then look back at things from a fresh perspective?”
The two HR members began crying in relief and happiness at the proposal, earning themselves a concerned look and two uncaring ones.
Nevertheless, Lelouch thought it over before giving a stiff nod. “Yes, a break sounds good.”
After agreeing on the break’s length Lelouch left on his own, searching for a place where he could concentrate without interruptions. The winding hallways of Rhodes Island’s landship remained hard to navigate, but after some exploration he was able to find a small break area nestled on the side of a thin but long corridor. The exiled prince let himself fall on the closest bench, giving a fleeting glance at the vending machine but dismissing it when he noticed the device had been recently emptied and cleaned. Instead he rested the back of his head against the cold metal wall, resisting the urge to slam his skull against it.
He’d lied. Lelouch knew exactly what the fashion designer meant; probably always knew in the back of his mind, and the recent discussion only forced him to confront the truth head-on.
Something impressive and fascinating, but not ridiculous. Evocative, but not obvious. Practical and efficient, but not minimalistic. Those were the thoughts that went into the creation of his alter-ego, and he wanted to say he succeeded.
And all it amounted to was that he still ended up looking like a Britannian noble trying to breathe fresh air into the classics for the purpose of impressing people at the next party.
Lelouch wasn’t sure if he was more enraged or disappointed in himself. For all that he wanted to burn his birth country to the ground, he just couldn’t completely cut off its influence. Even if he no longer carried his worst habits—he’d literally spent years expunging them from his lifestyle—the fact remained that acknowledging he was still a Britannian left a sour taste in his mouth. In retrospect, a likely contributor to the empathy he felt for Kallen.
Lelouch heaved a tired sigh, dragging a hand down his face in an effort to recenter himself. There’d be time to psychoanalyze himself later. For now, what choices were available? Come up with a different design, which would require more prep-time than he had and thus force him to decline direct involvement in the imminent operations? Or try even harder to persuade Bibeak and Orchid... and, in the case of success, accept he resembled the spitting image of the very culture he utterly despised every time he put on that mask?
No matter what he chose, Lelouch was sure to lose something important, and if there was one aspect of his Britannian heritage that Lelouch had never bothered to do away with, it was that he. Hated. Losing. Especially to the shadow of that traitorous, backstabbing son of a—!
“Meow~”
The unexpected sound, delicate like fine porcelain, broke Lelouch out of his spiraling temper. A moment’s search served to soon locate a black cat, sitting at the edge of the exit, soulful blue eyes staring straight at him with intrigue. The creature had beautifully groomed fur, a collar of lacy black ribbons around its neck and, most surprising of all, two tails swaying back and forth behind them with the kind of seemingly lazy energy that cats can instantly transform into ruthless aggression if the need arose. It didn’t look like a genetic defect, they moved too naturally... During his time at the Kururugi shrine, while learning about Japanese culture, Lelouch recalled coming across mentions of a legend about cats growing old enough to acquire magical powers and the ability to assume human form: ‘Nekomata’, if he remembered correctly.
Well, his suspension of disbelief had loosened greatly in the last few days, but not to the point of believing in ghosts. More likely, he reasoned, this was a creature native to Terra. Probably an Operator’s pet that they managed to rescue during their ordeal. Frightfully intelligent too, the way the cat stared at him clearly marked it as more than a simple animal. It was just too... aware.
Seemingly done with the observation the cat stood upon lithe legs and prowled towards Lelouch, every movement graceful and elegant like a ballerina on stage. It jumped onto the bench, then strolled its way on to Lelouch’s lap and sat down as if it owned the place. For some bizarre reason the raven-haired boy found himself comparing the animal to a refined and haughty noblewoman who was perfectly aware of her worth, and fully expected to be treated accordingly wherever she went.
A behavior that would normally have pricked Lelouch in all the wrong ways... but since it came from a cat and not a human being, all it evoked in Lelouch was wry amusement. The young man had always held a strong appreciation for animals, finding them far less complicated than people and easier to understand. Even back in Aries Villa, he used to feed the birds that nested in the park’s trees; something his mother allowed with a kind smile even if she put a ban on owning pets for both him and Nunnally until they were twelve.
While staying at the Kururugi Shrine, he’d let a few stray dogs and cats sleep inside during the colder days (after checking if they were healthy, cleaning them and making sure they were docile enough to not hurt Nunnally of course). The only one who got scratched, and not a little, had been Suzaku: something about the Japanese boy inexplicably made animals of all races hostile towards him. Not quite to the point of attacking him, but every attempt to touch them had been swiftly punished.
“Good evening. I hope you’re comfortable.” Lelouch spoke with a charming smile, unearthing every rusty ounce of etiquette he could recall. Some amount of harmless tomfoolery that nobody else would witness was a welcome respite from his earlier dark thoughts. “Does my-” He took a gamble, checking would have resulted in his face getting bloody, affinity with animals or not. “-lady also wish for a massage?”
The cat perked up, staring at Lelouch as if she couldn’t believe he had the audacity to ask something like that. Incredulity soon turned into brazen challenge as the cat faced forward and presented her back to Lelouch. Clearly, she didn’t expect much from him. The exiled prince was more than happy to prove her wrong.
Rubbing his hands to warm them, he first used light touches to test the cat’s reactions before using more force on the areas where she reacted best. Cats loved to be touched around the ears, cheeks, and just under the chin. Lelouch started behind the ears, using the pads of his fingers to gently apply pressure and making sure to avoid the scent gland areas, pet the top of her head without covering the face and then ran his hand to the base of the tail. Lifting his hand and putting it back on the head before repeating the motion again and again.
Her purring turned almost whimsical, arching her back to apply more pressure to Lelouch’s hand. Pleased at his success, no matter how minor, once the cat became comfortable he tried to apply a little pressure at the base of the tail. This was another gamble, as not all cats like getting scratched there, but it paid off when she didn’t put her ears back or tried to walk away. And was it his imagination or did he detect grudging approval in the cat’s purring?
One of her ears twitched. Lelouch was prepared to pull back his hand, but the cat merely turned her head to look at something. Following her gaze the raven-haired boy suddenly became aware of the someone standing right in front of him, having arrived so silently he didn’t notice until that very moment.
The newcomer was quite tall, dressed all in black with decorative belts and a tattered cape hanging off his frame. His head was covered by a hood, but looking up from below allowed Lelouch to see feline ears peeking from pale brown hair. Around his neck was a shiny black ring with light blue X-shaped highlights: an Infection Monitor, a device Lelouch was told all Rhodes Operators wear to track Originium levels within the owner and immediately detect either the first signs of Infection or the dangerous worsening of someone’s Oripathy.
“Hello, do you need something?” Lelouch questioned, a bit unnerved by how well the... Feline, he believed their race was (unimaginatively, in his very private opinion) called, managed to sneak up on him; but thanks to Sayoko doing the same many, many times in the past, he now had a firmer grasp on his reactions.
Amber eyes blinked, as if noticing him for the first time. “I am thankful for your offer, but I was simply surprised by the fact Miss Christine allowed herself to be touched. Such an event is exceedingly rare.” The man replied with a soft-spoken tone, yet each word was enunciated perfectly clear. The cat -Miss Christine- lightly bumped her head against Lelouch’s hand before looking reproachfully at the Feline, causing him to lower his head. “Of course, my apologies for the interruption, Miss Christine. Please, kind stranger, continue with your service.”
Were all Rhodes Island Operators so... unique? The answer so far had been a resounding ‘yes’, and it didn’t appear to be stopping anytime soon. “Lelouch Lamperouge.” The raven-haired boy introduced himself as he resumed petting the pu—cat. (Damn you, Millicent!)
“Code name: Phantom.” The Feline replied as he sat himself on the bench opposite Lelouch.
...well now, that was interesting.
Lelouch raised an eyebrow. “I may be wrong, but is your real name perhaps Erik?”
Phantom tilted his head, the only sign of his puzzlement. “I... do not believe so. May I ask why you ask?”
Lelouch shelved his confusion at the thoroughly noncommittal answer in favor of responding. “Christine Daaé and the Phantom of the Opera, real name Erik. They’re the protagonists of a popular novel about Europe’s most famous Opera House.” It was difficult to find European literature within Britannia; the books were not explicitly banned, but still faced a well-rooted prejudice against foreign culture all the same. Nevertheless, his mother once said their ancestors were migrants from France, and it had made him curious to learn more about said country. It had turned out to be a mixed bag of positives and negatives, as most things were, but most of its literature was pleasing enough to warrant preservation in his memory.
“Going by you and... the lady’s names—” He almost called her a ‘pet’, but some primal instinct told him it would have been a horrible idea. “And the fact you’re an actor, I thought you used the book as inspiration. But... I only realized it likely doesn’t exist on Terra after I’d said it.”
“...No, the source was not a book.” The Feline Operator appeared uneasy, as if some private part of himself was suddenly put under the spotlight. “How did you know I... was an actor?”
‘Was’, not ‘am’, and a heavy emphasis at that. There was a story there, but it wasn’t Lelouch’s right to pry. “It’s the way you move and hold yourself. Despite moving silently, every gesture and movement of yours is meant to catch people’s attention and keep it focused on you.” The exiled prince explained, a rare wistful smile gracing his face as he remembered what few happy memories he had of those days. “Theatre is a favorite topic of mine, and I’ve studied many of its techniques.”
“I understand. So even if I change masks, the colors are not so easily washed away.” Phantom’s tone shifted, becoming more sure of himself and haunting. Clearly, he was used to changing roles at the drop of a hat. “I once had several friends, and we traveled all over as a theatre troupe. But when Oripathy broke out, everything drew to a close, and everything began...”
Phantom touched the black ring around his neck, as if reassured by its presence. “You are from Earth, yes? This world of yours... once I woke up from my long dream, it was like a great weight had dropped from my shoulders. The silence... who could have thought it could be such a sweet blessing?”
Lelouch raised an eyebrow in genuine confusion. Purple pose aside, it was clear Phantom was speaking about a personal issue, but the raven-haired boy completely lacked the context to understand. Christine looked concerned about the Operator, but also relieved. Which ultimately left Lelouch feeling more than a bit like a third wheel. “You don’t miss your home?”
The Operator’s demeanor sank, the shadows of his hood darkening considerably. “My home... had reached its end before my birth. The place I lived in was but a memory of what it was, frozen in time. All of my remaining ties are here, at Rhodes Island.” And then the shadow passed as Phantom shook his head before focusing back on Lelouch. “And what about yours, Mister Lamperouge? I can see a cloud weighing upon your shoulders, haunting your footsteps. Are they related?”
”That obvious? Then I’m more distracted than I thought I was.” Lelouch snorted, too tired to even consider putting up the walls he would typically erect. Did he dare to open himself to a stranger? Loath as he was to be so open, Lelouch had to admit that the idea of putting his troubles into words carried some appeal. At the very least it was worth a shot, if only for how un-Brittanian the idea was.
“In my case, Mister Phantom, the problem is that I hate the place where I was born.” A dark scowl painted itself across the banished prince’s face, and he had to carefully control the rhythm of his hands. “For casting me aside, for hurting those I care about, I wish for nothing less than the pleasure of reducing it, one and all, to ashes scattered on the wind.”
No sooner was this declaration made did Lelouch’s vitriol drain away, leaving him feeling... notably empty. “And yet, soon after I decided to become an Operator my heritage reared its head once more. Honestly, I can’t even design an outfit without my homeland’s culture and preferences influencing my hand! It’s truly hard to conceive of a deeper low...”
The Feline nodded slowly. “You are... Britannian, then?”
“Unfortunately.” Lelouch’s smile was bitter. “And because of time constraints, I am now torn between two choices: miss a singular opportunity to bare my grievances before the eyes of the world... or in so doing, choose to present myself in such a way that I will hate the image I see every time I look into a mirror.”
The listening Operator cooked his head to the side inquisitively. “Is your own face you witness in the mirror? Or are we all actors, puppets dancing to an unseen script?” Phantom mused. “We cannot change the past, but to lack the ability to reach for the future is no less stifling than death.”
“And now you see my dilemma.” Lelouch nodded in grim acceptance. “Moving forward has no meaning if I end up returning to the starting point.”
Furthermore, Lelouch reflected as he retreated into his thoughts, perhaps the costume was not the real problem but just a symptom of it. Yes, loathe as he was to admit it, Lelouch Lamperouge grew up as a Britannian; however much he tried to carve it away, he had been innately shaped by the Empire’s culture. He understood perfectly how his fellow countrymen thought, because sometimes he shared those very same thoughts as well. A fact which influenced him... in more ways than Lelouch cared to admit.
He could not go back to being a Prince. It was straight-up impossible, on so many levels. Even in the absolutely unlikely event Charles died and the next Emperor gave Lelouch his title back, the raven-haired boy could neither forgive nor forget.
That was a decision Lelouch had committed to long ago, and it was one he intended to honor unto his dying day! ...But if so, then perhaps it was an intention he could bear to uphold more thoroughly? What was the point of forsaking a throne if he couldn’t bear to see himself without a crown? If Lelouch were to ever witness Brittania finally pay for its all-encompassing pride, then perhaps he had to first find the wherewithal to truly swallow his own...
“Mrow.”
Lelouch was drawn from his musings as Miss Christine began to stir, prompting him to remove his hand and let the cat jump back to the ground. Glancing at his watch, he realized the break was almost over. Shelving his thoughts, he stood up and gave his erstwhile conversation partners a gracious nod. “I must go now. It has been a pleasure meeting you, Lady Christine and Mister Phantom.”
“May a pleasant song guide your path, Mister Lamperouge.”
A few minutes after the exiled prince left, a loud mewl made Phantom focus again. “Yes, Miss Christine? You wish me to... I see. Hm... very well. If you vouch for him, who I am to deny your wishes?”
And then there was silence.
====
Regrettably for Lelouch, acknowledging his issues and renewing his vows to move forth in life only helped him so much. It certainly didn’t render any assistance in persuading a certain stubborn pair of ladies any easier. “Are you rejecting my proposals on principle?!”
“No! No! I, uugh-!” Bibeak waved her hands, her natural shyness and firm desire to stand her ground making for an awkward juxtaposition. That is, she looked like a squirming caterpillar rooted to the ground. “Look Lelouch, your proposals are good! I think you have significant technical ability, an eye for fashion! It’s just that, those designs... they just don’t work. Not with your intentions, not yet.”
Lelouch threw his hands in the air, making a point of ignoring the two HR members silently weeping in a corner. “The goal here is to create a distinctive, personal outfit! It isn’t likely to change anytime soon, that would defeat the whole purpose!”
“Correct. It’s also one of the reasons why this is taking so long.” Orchid could feel a migraine coming. She tapped a finger on the latest list of requests made by the exiled prince. “Look Lelouch, be honest with me: read this list again while pretending to be a tailor that just received it anonymously, then tell me what you would think.”
Lelouch reviewed the list as requested, then stared Orchid dead in the eyes. “The subject wants to catch the attention of a large public and requires the best materials available.”
The hat-wearing Liberi raised a finger, only to immediately lower it. Then she started pinching the bridge of her nose as the migraine finally hit. “How can you be both right and still completely missing the point?!”
“...Alright, at this point I may as well bite the bullet.” Lelouch turned back to Bibeak, who by reflex took a step back at the intensity of his stare. “What do you suggest I should wear?”
That... was a very good question. She has been so focused on making sure Lelouch would not make a mistake, the sword-wielding Liberi had not considered a possible solution. However, before she could truly start to consider an answer, an elegant meowing interrupted her. Looking down, Bibeak blinked as she watched a very familiar figure brush herself against Lelouch’s leg. “Miss Christine? What are you doing here? I thought you were still with—?”
Bibeak’s mouth snapped shut and she went very still; slowly raising her head, she looked over Lelouch’s shoulder... and promptly lost all color in her demeanor. The others in the room all had varying shades of similar reactions, barring Lelouch who just locked eyes with the cat. “Hello again Miss Christine, Mister Phantom. Are you also here for some adjustments to your wardrobes... er, wardrobe?” He turned to address his recent conversation partner, looking mostly at ease despite the sudden appearance of a looming presence behind him.
“Not today. Rather, Mister Lamperouge, we ask that you accept this gift of good wishes.” With little in the way of ceremony, Phantom handed Lelouch the package he was carrying, a sizable bundle of thick brown paper tied with sturdy ropes. “This is one of my spare suits. I imagine it should only require a few adjustments to fit you. I do not know if this reflects the role you envision, but I hope it can at least make your reflected image more bearable until such a time as you find it for yourself.”
“Honestly, at this point, we’ll take any help we can get.” Lelouch admitted, though not unkindly. It was a surprising offer, but undoubtedly a welcome one. Taking the package, he opened a corner and turned it so that the seamstresses could observe its contents.
Bibeak stared, both impressed and intimidated by the craftsmanship she was contemplating.
Orchid, for her part, pictured Lelouch wearing the uniform, along with the incorporation of a few elements of his desired design, and let out a contemplative hum.
The two HR members waited with bated breaths. Was this it? The light at the end of the tunnel? Had salvation arrived on padded paws?!
By contrast, Lelouch’s lips curved up in a pleased smile. The idea was unexpected, but he would not deny that he liked it. Like it quite a bit, in fact. “Finally! Yes, this is something I can definitely use! Mister Phantom, you have my gratitude: how can I repay your—uh?”
Lelouch trailed off in confusion as, when he turned back around, it was to find that the Operator was already gone. Christine licked a paw, obviously pleased with herself, before sauntering away with a flick of her tails.
“...Impressive.” Was Lelouch’s sole comment. Again, unnerving in the extreme by this point, but he was used to it by now. He folded the package under his arm and looked at Orchid with a challenging smirk. “Well, Miss Orchid? Any objections?”
“By this point, boy, I’ll settle for the fact that you had no hand in the design.” The fashion designer grumbled. “And take solace in the fact that, honestly, we have Operators who look even more menacing than that.”
Lelouch blinked, looking down at the package and then back to Orchid. “You're joking.”
“Hey.” All attention turned to the department’s door as it was opened. Taking a single step inside was a tall, dark-haired Feline man, clad in black protective clothes usually worn by welders, metal greaves on his legs, thick gloves on his arms and carrying the schizophrenic bastard child of an industrial drill and a circular saw almost as long as he was tall (and certainly just as heavy) on his back without missing a beat. “Just woke up. Has anyone seen Chiave and Aosta?”
“They have not been here recently, Broca. I’d check the workshops if you haven’t already.” Orchid replied simply.
“Damn. Thanks.” The Feline grunted before closing the door, his heavy footsteps audible even through the walls.
"...Wow, you were not exaggerating.”
“Not even a little. Frankly, Broca and his companions are quite conservative, all things considered.”
“And he uses that to...?”
“Both constructively and very destructively, yes.”
Lelouch shook his head. Why was he surprised about this, he already saw and accepted Operator Blaze cutting Knightmare Frames apart with a chainsaw (while generating enough heat to give the illusion both she and the weapon were on fire), this should be nothing new.
On the one hand, Lelouch hoped she was something of an outlier when it came to bizarre weapons... but on the other, he didn’t dare to ask. “Anyways... seeing as we have a framework to work from, we should be able to ink a quick sketch to incorporate the other parts like the mask, right?”
“O-Oh yes! You’re right. That should be... um, simple?” Bibeak cringed when the two HR members started bawling again, but pushed on. She fixed a new paper sheet on the wall and began drawing, occasionally looking between it and the clothes Lelouch was putting on a mannequin. “The mask, a simple one without embellishments... Phantom’s body is taller and bigger than yours, so some adjustments are required...”
Soon enough Bibeak put on the finishing touches, finally giving a definite shape to the mental picture Lelouch had been developing. This new look was good. Very good. Except... the fact remained that at its core, it was not suited for taking center stage anymore, wasn’t it? Memorable, yes. Poignant too. In a hypothetical play, he would certainly play a prominent and essential role, but he would not be the main character. This was no symbol for the masses to rally behind.
...And, maybe that was why he liked it so much? A prince would certainly accept nothing less than the leading role, but Lelouch was no longer and would never again be a prince. He certainly wanted to take back control of his life after nearly a decade of simply bowing his head and going through the motions, but there was more than one way to accomplish that end. He could admit that much.
Lelouch was a Britannian. There was no changing the past. But right here, right now, he was the only one who could walk towards his own future. And a good first step on that path was to ask himself a question few Britannians would ever dare to contemplate.
‘Who is better for the spotlight than I?’
====
It wasn’t often, the Doctor mused within his mind, that two gatherings of Rhodes Island’s leadership happened within forty-eight hours of each other (the only one missing was Closure who elected to focus on the landship’s repairs, but left said she would support whatever he and Amiya chose). In fact, this was the first time he could recall it happening.
Well, not really. Both on paper and in practice, the ones who made the most important decisions were Amiya, Kal'tsit and himself, with Closure occasionally piping in when the topic involved the landship and its systems. But the more their roster of Operators expanded, carrying with them all kinds of useful talents, the more they required the use of intermediaries capable of seeing the big picture and offering sound advice. Not to mention some Operators were representatives or leaders of allied organizations that invested quite a lot into Rhodes. So, in that way, Rhodes’ leaders, formal or otherwise, worked together quite often.
The Doctor was mostly grateful for the extra hands when it came to paperwork, which had the nasty tendency to never stop growing. Even if some of them had the rude habit of demanding he double-check and counter-sign their documents! They were obviously always perfect, so stop wasting his precious free time, please.
“Hm? Something on your mind, Doctor? Do you need something?” Ch’en asked, noticing the man’s masked face pointing towards her.
“Nothing much, just wondering in which order to introduce you.” The Doctor shamelessly lied. “Like, is there someone who wants to go first? Do the introduction part by themselves?”
“I don’t have any preference, do as you wish.” The Lung waved her hand dismissively. Saria and Hellagur shared the same opinion, while the others seemly ignored what they likely took as small talk to pass the time.
Amiya noticed Lelouch’s presence before he knocked on the door, having loosened her empathy for the occasion. The usual migraine his negative sentiments caused was present... but this time, they felt more distant. Less murky too, as if Lelouch’s subconscious was distracted from his typical darkness.
“Here’s the man of the hour!” The Doctor stood up and opened the door, letting Lelouch enter. “Very punctual, Lelouch. I take it everything’s right with HR?”
“It has been an... eventful experience, but we made good progress.” The raven-haired boy replied, massively underselling what really happened.
His arrival was followed by a round of introductions, with the ones called Hellagur and SilverAsh catching his attention the most: the first felt like a soldier with decades of experience, just like Tohdoh or Waldstein, but even more experienced and intense, while the second... reminded Lelouch of his siblings. His dangerous siblings. Or maybe even worse yet... himself.
And then there was the fucking penguin.
“Yo, name’s Emperor! But people also call me The King, Big E and the Rap God of Columbia!” The sunglasses-wearing hip-hop artist raised a flipper, not even bothering to stand up from his seat. “Sadly that’s all left on Terra, but earning it back is just a matter of time. For now, I’m the undisputed Boss of Penguin Logistics: for the right moolah, there’s no package we cannot deliver anywhere and anytime you need it! ...Limited to the Tokyo area ‘til we get our network back up and running.”
“Oh, how the mighty have fallen...” Ch’en muttered, decidedly not hiding a smirk behind her folded hands.
“I HEARD THAT!”
Lelouch ignored the byplay, expression perfectly blank as he just stared. “Your very existence is giving me an aneurysm.”
Despite the Doctor and Amiya swiftly stepping away from Lelouch’s immediate vicinity, Emperor merely laughed at the statement as he slapped the table. “Yeah, that happens a lot due to people not being able to handle my great self! Perks of being so awesome. I like your vibes Lou—”
Lelouch vi Brittania’s eye twitched with barely restrained murder as a number of snorts and snickers came up around the table.
“—but before we get down to business... I need to make something clear as crystal first.” With that declaration, Emperor pulled out a sizeable handgun from... somewhere that defied sanity and slammed it flat on the table. “Whatever beef you’ve got with your old man, I’m callin’ first dibs on his ass! I’m poppin’ a cap in that philistine bastard for desecrating art, and that’s the end of it. Not negotiable.”
Those words snapped Lelouch out of his shock. He thought about it for a few seconds before nodding... with a disturbing air of serenity about him. “That would be the most beautiful sight I could ever dare to witness. If you need help to make it happen, consider me to be at your service.”
SLAM! “Ahem.”
Any further discussion was brought to a swift halt, courtesy of Kal'tsit slamming her clipboard on the table and fixating the two quote-unquote ‘royals’ with a paint-peeling glare. Though Emperor dismissed her with a tisk and a wave of his flipper, Lelouch was nowhere near so resilient. “I’ll get to it immediately!” Even then he did a remarkable job in concealing the shivers behind a mask of professionalism, only those paying special attention noting how quickly he started moving and how the banished prince made an effort to avoid looking in Kal'tsit’s direction.
Rather than a whiteboard, this time Lelouch took the time before the meeting to prepare a few paper sheets with the different phases of his plan. The details had been streamlined, and to the sides he sticked on a few printed photos and articles to better corroborate his decision. Using the room’s old-style message board, Lelouch pinned the sheets one over the other in an ascending order so that he could rip off one once he was finished and switch to the next.
Satisfied with the setup Lelouch turned around to lock gazes with the others, using the same kind of acting movements he discussed with Phantom to gesture first at himself, then at the board. “Ladies and gentlemen of Rhodes Island. You know my name and, I have little doubt, many of the details about my life that I chose to share with some of you. However, apart form my contribution during Shinjuku you don’t know about my skills. That’s why, today, I am here to persuade you not just with words but with facts. It is my firm belief that the Britannian Army, now that they have a scapegoat—”
====
At the end of it, of the various expressions of those present the one worn by the Head of the Medical Department was the most intense. Looking supremely nonplussed, she stared at Amiya and the Doctor as if to say ‘you agreed to this?’ before focusing back on Lelouch. “This is exactly the kind of foolish, harebrained scheme that would have painted a massive target on us back on Terra.”
“Pft! You’re saying that like it’s a bad thing!” The first one to rebuke her was, surprisingly, Emperor. “You’re thinking with old school rules for an old school game! But now that we’ve changed the crib, we’ve got to change the rhythm we’re laying down too!”
“As... blunt as Emperor’s summation might be... I cannot in good conscience say that either he or Mister Lamperouge are incorrect in their summations either.” Hellagur declared, steepling his fingers thoughtfully. “The rules of a full war such as this are quite complex... but for an opening move, a show of force can, at times, be an undeniable necessity. Especially in the face of opposition such as this. Am I wrong?”
“No, General, you aren’t. At the core of this conflict, our enemy is not Britannia’s armies, or even its people, but its ideology.” Lelouch leaned over the table, hands resting on the surface as he gave those gathered his full attention. “For decades the elites of Britannia have built a myth of invincibility and righteousness around their nation. A nearly divine mandate of ‘might makes right’, if you will. Any dissenting or weaker opinion is shunned, labeled as delusional or mere terrorism. Right now all forms of media within Japan are under Britannia’s control, used to tell the citizens only what their rulers want them to hear. Only what they want them to believe. For all the losses they took in Shinjuku, not a single word of it will reach the masses.”
“Allowing Britannia to keep their most important ally: the very people of this country.” SilverAsh continued, fingers folded to hide his mouth. “The Japanese may hate their conquerors, but the vast majority of them have long forsaken any hope or illusion of freedom. Japan was already defeated once, and has made nary a resurgence since. Though their lives are miserable, they still have them. Which would be far from a guarantee should they ever dare hope for more, much less attempt to fight for it.”
“And of the remaining Britannians, by sheer law of probability, there are bound to be some who reject their country’s ways. Be it for self-profit, or ideological differences.” Saria declared bluntly, her stony expression hiding her thoughts. “But whatever their purposes, either they don’t have the ability to change things, or they don’t believe it a worthwhile endeavor.”
“Which means that belief is what this comes down to...” Ch’en mused, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. “We need to get the people’s faith at our backs, to properly push our agenda. If we try and fight Brittania on our own, we’ll fail. But to get allies, we need to be seen taking a stand, in a way that Brittania can’t just cover up.”
“Hell yeah! Now you’re getting it!” Emperor raised a flipper towards the heavens. “If we want to soar, our brand needs heat! We gotta be hot, spicy, absolutely pyroclastic! Spittin’ mad rhymes and frontin’ an image that nobody could chip away at, no way no how! Gotta match Brittania’s tacky whack with our righteous bling! And a stunt like this? Heh!” The penguin nodded his beak with his typical confidence. “We’ll definitely pull down mad rep. It’ll make us impossible to ignore. People’ll be talkin’ about us day and night, even if it’s all hush-hush. No matter how much Britannia tries to run damage control, they won’t be able to scrub our tag off their hides any time soon.”
“...Emperor’s blunt as a hammer to the head, but he’s not wrong.” The Doctor weathered the look Kal’tsit sent him unashamedly, his visor pointedly blank. “Face facts, Doctor Kal’tsit. Remaining relatively under the radar was viable in Terra because more often than not, the nations and factions we dealt with tended to be more focused on either their own issues or one another. Meaning we kept on the periphery of affairs, and avoided undue focus until absolutely necessary. But now, we’re facing a monolith. There’s nowhere to hide, so we’re left with the choice of capitalizing on that attention for our own ends... or being driven into obscurity.”
Amiya nodded in agreement, her eyes closed and her brow furrowed in concentration. “Our purpose at Rhodes has not and will never change: to alleviate the suffering of those in need, and ensure safety and stability for all those who desire it. But now that the source of the suffering we fight has changed, so too must our tactics. Even though I’m loathe to fight... that doesn’t mean I or Rhodes can afford to shy away from it. And if that means making a stand before the world itself?”
Amiya opened her eyes in a resolute glare, as though challenging the world to defy her.
“Then it’s a stand we’ll make.”
She let her statement hang heavy in the air for a moment... before shrinking in on herself somewhat as she glanced at Lelouch, uncertainty dancing in her expression.
“Though, ah, Lelouch? I couldn’t help but notice...” Amiya hedged warily, glancing at the visual aids he’d used for the presentation. “Isn’t this plan... different compared to the one we initially outlined?”
“Yes, it is. Before this meeting, I... had to come to terms with a few different thoughts.” The amethyst-eyed youth gave her a wry smile. For a moment Lelouch’s emotions cleared up even more despite losing nothing in intensity. To Amiya, it was as though... he was experiencing some form of respite? Found a more comfortable form to wear? It was hard to tell, but despite being nowhere close to a healthy resolution, it was clearly a step in the right direction. “Rest assured the meaning and ultimate goals remain unchanged, I just judged this a more efficient statement to communicate them.”
“And...” Amiya blushed slightly. “You really think that this is—?”
“Yes.”
“I’m all for it!” The Doctor raised a hand in approval.
“Doctor!”
“Come on, I may not understand Lelouch’s purposely vaguely worded motives-” The two locked gazes, each of them amused in their own way. “But I agree, it’s a most fitting direction in which to take things. Isn’t that right, Kal’tsit?”
“I thought I already made my opinions on the matter clear.” The Feline grumbled, but despite her words there was a distinctive resolve in her eyes. Even if the path ahead was uncertain, nothing less than the desired result would suffice. “I may prefer the circumstances were different, but they aren’t. If this is the decision all of you want to take, then as ever, I will support you.”
Through various degrees, everyone else stated their approval. Amiya hesitated for a few moments more before her expression solidified once more into one of firm resolve as she locked eyes with the raven-haired young man, who smiled in response.
Lelouch Vi Britannia, Prince of Britannia, could not change anything.
It was up to Lelouch Lamperouge, Operator of Rhodes Island, to lay the foundations that would change everything.
“The Operation is approved. Let’s change the world.”
====
30 minutes to the start of the procession
“Must we really do this?”
“There is no other choice, Villetta.” Jeremiah Gottwald scooped up water with both hands and splashed it over his face, rubbing it a few times before using a towel to dry himself. The face reflected by the mirror was one of barely concealed exhaustion, he had slept perhaps a single hour in the last few days and his rest was troubled. Nothing that make-up and a large dose of caffeine couldn’t fix, even if they were only temporary measures. “Like the Romans said, the populace require bread and circuses.”
The tanned woman frowned. “It was a satyrical statement meant to denounce the lack of civic duty.”
“Correct. Sadly, as of now every other alternative would just make things worse.” Putting away the towel, Jeremiah focused on fixing his appearance. Obviously the main focus would not be on him but nonetheless the Margrave was loathe to afford himself anything less than perfection. “This farce might be juvenile and loathsome, but it will give us more time to maneuver and lessen the pressure we face. Two factors, I’ll remind you, that we are in desperate need of.”
“I didn’t say I don’t understand, I do. I just don’t like it.”
Before Gottwald could respond, there was a timid knock on the door. “Lord Gottwald? Lady Nu? We are going live in ten minutes.”
“Understood.” He replied with a firm tone. “We’ll be on our way, wait for us.”
“Yes, my lord!” The speaker answered in a hurry, soon followed by their retreating footsteps.
Ten minutes, should be sufficient for the make-up artists of Hi-TV to make himself and the others presentable. Past experiences taught Jeremiah that coffee in the journalism world was barely better than the swill found among soldiers but he just need the caffeine. Then twenty minutes of buttering up the public while the Knightmare Frames that will guard the convoy get into position.
Twenty minutes of lying while a murderer most foul still roamed free, hands stained in the blood of High Highness Clovis. Jeremiah wanted nothing more than to hunt down the real culprit, but like he told Villetta, this was the better option among many bad ones.
For the sake of Britannia.
For the sake of his duty.
For the sake of making amends for his most atrocious failure.
For all of that, Jeremiah Gottwald would sacrifice anything. Anything.
“Follow me Villetta. It’s time for the show to begin.”