7 Chapter 6: Visum

The desert is a harsh and formidable landscape, filled with dangers both mundane and unexpected. As a certain European field marshal once noted, it is a tactician's paradise but a quartermaster's hell. Despite never having met the man Cornelia understood the sentiment perfectly and had thus composed her strategy accordingly. Victory needed to be achieved quickly and the pressure on the enemy maintained to prevent them from recovering their strength. To this end Cornelia had led a series of lightning strikes against the forces of the Middle East Federation, overrunning bases and outposts and appropriating the stockpiles of fuel and supplies to continue her advance instead of waiting for her supply train to catch up.

It was a risky strategy, only one step away from disaster if the enemy managed to stall her or decided to adopt a scorched earth defense to destroy their own resources to deny Cornelia their use. Unfortunately for the MEF by the time their generals were able to agree to such a course of action Cornelia had already cut halfway through the Federation's territory and morale was plummeting, making implementation of the strategy next to impossible. Even worse the Princess had managed to seize the port city of Kuwait, likely her main objective since setting out from Muscat. With control of the Persian Gulf secured by the Britannian Navy the port city of Kuwait thus provided the perfect place for supplies to be shipped in by sea, eliminating any need for overland convoys that might fall prey to ambushes, the elements, or opportunistic nomad tribes that still wandered the deserts. After spending a month building up supplies in Kuwait, Cornelia's renewed offensive headed north and overran Baghdad in short order. Two months on and the Princess was poised to seize Jerusalem, the last major stronghold of the Middle East Federation after the fall of Beirut.

"Resistance has stiffened considerably as we approach Jerusalem," Cornelia noted as she regarded the situation map in her field command center. "If they had fought this tenaciously while we were advancing through Arabia, they might well have ended the invasion before it even truly began."

"War is won by those committed to its prosecution," General Andreas Darlton remarked. "The Arabs though their political and financial influence would buy their victory and so did not bother investing their wealth a proper military. They have paid heavily for their complacency."

"Those that have survived this long have learned their lessons well," Cornelia said. "Taking Jerusalem will not be easy."

Darlton nodded. "We have the resources to outlast them in a siege, now that our supply lines have been secured."

Cornelia smirked. "Now Andreas, what kind of goddess of victory would I be if the best I could do is starve out my enemy?"

The general chuckled. "Your words, your highness, not mine. You have already crushed the MEF in every way that matters. Taking Jerusalem is simply screwing in the nails to their coffin."

"Maybe so, but if we want to minimize the threat of future revolts we need to crush the MEF's military decisively," Cornelia said. "To that end we need them to commit the rest of their Bamides."

Darlton nodded in understanding. The Bamides was an interesting machine of war, a product of nations unable to match Britannia's technological sophistication and so forced to rely on brute force over finesse. Even so it was a capable weapon, well suited to desert fighting. Its long range cannon was capable of killing most opponents that dared approach it while its thick armor was generally sufficient against any weapon capable of engaging the Bamides at its preferred range. Combined with its specially designed skimmers the Bamides was quite capable of controlling the terms of engagement when fighting Britannia's standard forces.

Perhaps somewhat ironically the very things that gave it an advantage against the Britannia's regular army made it hideously vulnerable to the Empire's own knightmares. Its large size meant the Bamides was not nearly as maneuverable and the only close range weapon it possessed was a machinegun that was completely ineffective against the armor of current generation knightmares. The only thing that saved the Bamides from complete obsolescence was the simple fact that only a fraction of Cornelia's army was composed of knightmares. A good three quarters were still made up of tried and true tanks and mechanized infantry, the exact sort of opponents that the Bamides excelled at fighting.

Cornelia however had not earned her current position as Marshal of the Empire by fighting her enemies on their terms. Another reason she had pressed forward so hard was to force the MEF to commit in strength to try to stop her, which for the MEF meant deploying their best weapons and troops. Seeing as the vanguard of Cornelia's advance was composed solely of knightmares, the MEF had seen considerably less success from the deployment of their Bamides than they might have expected. By now intelligence indicated that the MEF's remaining strength of Bamides stood at less than five percent of their prewar numbers. And while Cornelia knew it would probably be impossible to get that down to zero, she was still going to try.

"What is 9th Division's status?" Cornelia asked.

"Recovering from their march," Darlton said. "The mechanics are overhauling all of the engines to deal with the wear and tear of their journey. The sand gets into damn near everything."

Cornelia nodded. "ETA to active readiness?"

"Two more days minimum," Darlton said. "The 6th is in better shape, they managed to avoid getting hit by any sandstorms along the way and so made better time. The troops have also managed to get some rest since their arrival."

"Then we will use them to bait the Bamides," Cornelia said. "Have the 6th set up its artillery elements in range of Jerusalem. I want continuous bombardment of the city's walls. Make clear that I do not want any stray shells hitting the residential districts."

"Yes your highness," Darlton acknowledged.

"Hopefully the 9th will also be ready to engage by the time the MEF decides enough is enough and moves against the artillery," Cornelia said. "If not it will be even more imperative that the Knightmare Corps is ready to deploy at a moment's notice to intercept the Bamides before they can engage the 6th in strength."

"I will press the 9th's engineering corps on the urgency of the maintenance," Darlton said."

Cornelia nodded. "Good."

By week's end the Princess intended to have crushed the last of the MEF's resistance and be on her way to Area 11. She would not leave her little sister exposed to whatever had claimed Clovis.

Figuring out the pattern of the Britannian vigilantes turned out to be trivial. Spotting them entering the ghettos was even easier. Based off of the timing of the attacks it was evident that the gangs were leaving the Concession during off-peak times, likely to avoid any witnesses from spotting them. The Britannians at least showed some imagination by entering the ghetto separately before joining up in smaller groups. They would then pick a target and then converge on their intended victim or victims, always people that looked unlikely to be able to defend themselves. Their first victim had been a housewife out shopping. By the time anyone found her she was half dead from blood loss. Their second victim had emerged with a broken leg and a concussion. Some were luckier, even managing to escape the mob while one person was still in a coma.

Finding the perpetrators and putting a stop to their actions were however two entirely different matters. Killing them outright might have ended this particular bunch of thugs but it would only result in retaliation from the Britannian side. No one would believe that a Japanese fighting back was a legitimate case of self-defense after all and if the authorities decided to do a sweep, the number of people that would get hurt would dwarf any that these unofficial vigilantes might get their hands on. No, escalation would not be the answer here, as satisfying as Kallen would have found it to permanently end these thugs. But the Britannians crossing over on these little escapades were ultimately cowards, picking on people who could not fight back and hiding in the group to avoid facing any personal consequences. Thus the solution to this problem was the same as when dealing with any other bully. Make picking on the people of the ghetto unappealing and they would think twice about coming out here again.

"Alright, are we clear on the plan?" Ohgi asked.

The others nodded.

"Remember, no wild antics, stick to your assigned role and do not deviate," Ohgi said, his eyes on Tamaki.

So was everyone else's for that matter. The man flushed.

"I got it already," he complained. "Stop staring at me already!"

Ohgi chuckled before his face hardened once more. "As far as we can tell these guys don't have anything worse than knives, but don't let your guard down. They may well have brought guns as backup."

More nods, solemn ones these time.

"Then let's go, we only have a small window of opportunity."

The group pulled on their masks and moved out, all six of them. The resistance cell was never very large, at its peak numbering no more than a dozen members. Three of their number were discreetly tailing separate groups of the thugs while a few trusted outsiders had agreed to lend a hand keeping track of the others. They needed to move quickly before the Britannians selected a target and called on everyone to converge. With their numbers each group individually was not terribly difficult to take down but if they managed to meet up or were alerted to being stalked, they might escape unscathed. That would send the entirely wrong message.

Soon enough the first group came into sight. The streets were fairly empty, more and more people staying indoors to avoid falling victim to the vicious attacks. The four Britannians were not making much of an effort to hide their presence. In fact they were flaunting it, daring anyone to challenge them. Unfortunately for them today they had picked the wrong neighborhood to terrorize. Ohgi's cell stepped out in front and behind the four, drawing pistols on them.

"Hands up," Ohgi ordered.

The Britannians froze.

"Whatcha waitin fo!" Tamaki shouted in badly accented English. "Handsu ap!"

This time the Britannians obeyed, throwing up their arms quickly in the face of the obviously excited Japanese nut with a gun. Two other resistance members stepped forward and wrenched their arms behind them, cuffing them and quickly slapping packing tape over their mouths. Desperate sounding moans escaped the Britannians but at this point they were completely at the mercy of Ohgi and the others.

"If you don't make a fuss you'll make it out of this alive," Ohgi said in his more practiced English. "If you give us too much trouble however you may end up needing to be carried out of here, got it?"

Four heads frantically nodded.

"Good." Ohgi nodded to Tamaki. "Get them into the truck."

The Japanese man was not entirely gentle as he pushed the Britannians into the waiting vehicle and slammed the doors shut behind them. With no light inside they would have to sit there in the darkness until the cell was ready to deal with them. No one felt terribly broke up about the discomfort of their passengers as they moved to the next group.

The second group of Britannians crumbled as quickly as the first, leaving only two more groups left. They were making good time though it would not be long before one of the remaining groups called to check in with the others. They needed to hurry.

"Hands up!" Ohgi shouted, having adjusted his approach to a more forceful display than the first time.

The group this time only had three Britannians and while two looked about frantically before raising their hands the third did so more slowly and deliberately. As Naomi approached to cuff him suddenly he lunged and seized the woman, twisting the gun out of her hand and jamming the barrel against her head.

"Ino-shit, let her go!" Ohgi shouted.

"I don't think so," the Britannian said. "Here's how this is going to work. All of you are going to drop your weapons right now and walk away. Me and my buddies are going to then head back to the Concession, and after we're clear, we might decide to let your little friend here go." The man sneered. "Or we might decide that she needs to repay us for the, inhospitality you've all shown."

"Damn it," Tamaki hissed in Japanese. "Let me drop the guy!"

"Tamaki, shut up and don't do anything," Ohgi snapped back before switching over to English. "If you want to run way, then go, but you are not taking her with you."

"I don't think you have a choice," the Britannian said. "Unless you want your friend's pretty little brains blown out?"

The man tightened his grip and Naomi's face became flushed as her breathing became more ragged.

"Damn it man, we need to do something," Tamaki uttered. "We can't let them walk away like this!"

"Tamaki, stop undermining me," Ohgi nearly snapped.

"Yes, it's most unbecoming for a subordinate to argue with his betters, even if it's between you ants."

The resistance fighters stared in surprise.

"Indeed, I understand your primitive tongue," the man goaded them, "so don't think about trying to make plans behind my back, it's not going to work."

Ohgi felt a cold sweat pour over him. The plan was risky, true, but they had set it up to try to minimize anyone getting hurt on both sides. Now this Britannian was about to blow it all and likely get Naomi killed. Think Ohgi, think! There had to be a way! A figure stepped past him, taking the decision out of his hand.

"If you need a hostage to assure you safe passage, take me instead."

Jaws dropped, on both sides. Kallen stepped closer to the Britannian.

"Well?"

"And why should I give up the hostage I already have in hand?" the Britannian asked.

"Because I'm the cell leader, which makes me a much more valuable hostage," Kallen proclaimed.

"Ka-Aka, what are you doing?" Ohgi said, just barely reverting to Kallen's agreed upon codename.

"Shut up," Kallen snapped. "I trusted you to oversee this mission and you blew it, you're obviously not suited for independent field command, so I'm cleaning up your mess. Now shut your mouth and don't get in my way."

The others stared at Kallen aghast at first but as her words sank in the girl's intent became obvious. To them at least. Most of them. Tamaki's mouth was still hanging open.

The Britannian chuckled. "So this was all part of a test? To see if your guy had the chops? Hah, you've got guts girl, I'll give you that much. Fine, since you seem so determined to clean up your guy's fuckup, I'll let you take the fall. Kick your weapon to my buddy and get over here."

Kallen bent down and placed the gun on the ground before kicking it over to the aforementioned man. The Britannian scrambled for the gun and hurriedly pointed it at the others. All that did however was see some of them shift their aim to him instead, causing the man to swallow. Kallen paid the interplay no mind, instead walking over slowly to the Britannian holding Naomi.

"That's close enough."

Kallen stopped.

"Turn around."

The redhead obeyed.

"You, sweetie pie, handcuff her."

Kallen glanced back to see Naomi looking at her. She nodded slightly. The Japanese woman reluctantly took the cuffs and locked them around Kallen's wrists.

"Good girl," the Britannian said.

Without warning he tossed Naomi to his companion and lunged for Kallen. He never laid a hand on her. Kallen's foot on the other hand landed squarely in between his legs, landing a solid kick in his groin. All of the men winced instinctively, only to wince again when Kallen spun around and landed a spinning kick squarely into the crouching man's head. She followed this up with a side kick that knocked the gun out of the other Britannian's hand and then an axe kick that knocked the first Britannian flat on his face. Kallen kicked away the gun and glanced at the third man. She raised an eyebrow.

"I suggest you let her go."

The thug frantically pushed Naomi away and threw up his hands again. The man that Kallen had kicked the hands of quickly emulated his partner.

"Someone get these off me and onto this bastard here," Kallen ordered.

Naomi did the honors, freeing Kallen and quickly securing the still dazed Britannian on the ground. For good measure Naomi gave the man a hefty kick in the side. The other two offered no further trouble as they too were secured.

"How much time did we lose?" Kallen asked Ohgi.

The man regarded her worriedly.

"Time, we're on the clock here," Kallen said sternly.

Ohgi sighed. It seemed for now they would need to keep up this pretense. He flipped open his phone and called their last lookout. A grimace appeared on his face as he listened the report.

"The last group is making a run for the checkpoint," he reported.

"They were the deepest in, we should be able to cut them off," Kallen said.

"Aka," Ohgi said. "We've gotten three of the four groups. That should be enough."

"No, it's not," Kallen said. "We need all of them to make this point or it's not going to stick."

Ohgi glanced over at the largish man being hauled off. He was apparently still in too much pain to walk by himself.

"I think you've made your point," Ohgi said. "And this is my op, not yours." He cracked a grin. "Unless you were serious about me not being up to snuff for field command."

Kallen regarded the man before sighing. "Alright, fine. We'll let this last group go." More loudly. "We'll just have to scare this lot enough that the others'll piss their pants hearing what they barely avoided."

"I think some of them already did," Naomi said in disgust from the back of the truck.

The redhead snickered. "Jiro! Get to work!"

Tamaki grumbled. "Why do I have to do the shit jobs? Literally?"

"It's what happens when you disobey the field commander," Kallen retorted.

More grumbling could be heard but Tamaki got to work, stripping the Britannians of their clothes. Two of the other men helped at least until all of their prisoners were down to just their underwear.

"Priestess, your turn," Kallen said with a big smile.

Naomi returned it. All of the men, Britannian and Japanese, shivered. Except for the big guy, he was still curled up after Kallen kicked his nuts in.

"Well then, let's get started," Naomi said, opening up a briefcase.

As she pulled out the implements the prisoners' eyes went wide with horror. More than one shot pleading looks to their male captors but none of them would meet their eyes. Kallen on the other hand was grinning as widely as Naomi as she approached the prisoners.

"Should we go out and search for them?" a Britannian man watching the checkpoint intently suggested.

"Not without backup," another man said. "If they had something that could take down Captain Machlin, we're not gonna stand a chance by ourselves."

"Damn it, this wasn't supposed to happen," a third cursed. "Those stupid Elevens shouldn't have the guts to stand up to us!"

"It was probably one of those terrorist cells," the first man said. "No one else is stupid enough to try to defy Britannia."

"Don't understand why the Viceroy doesn't just send in the troops to cleanse the place."

"Hey, watch it, the Viceroy is a member of the Imperial family, you don't want to get charged with lèse-majesté."

"But it's still strange," the man persisted. "Why's she going easy on the Elevens? And you heard those rumors about that Eleven they're letting pilot that new white knightmare?"

The other man shrugged. "What, you gonna say she's an Eleven lover?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Hey, something's happening at the checkpoint!"

All three men looked over and saw the guards there running about.

"Maybe they're back! Let's go take a look!"

The trio were not the only onlookers gathering at the checkpoint as quite the crowd was building up. Nevertheless they were able to force their way through until they were at the front of the gates and peered through. What they saw caused all three to blanch. Running frantically toward the checkpoint were the dozen other members of their gang, all in nothing save their underwear with hands obviously restrained behind their backs. That by itself would have been a sight but what really got the people talking was the fact that each man's face was heavily made up with lipstick, eyeliner, and blush. Whoever had subjected these men to such treatment had shown no moderation or restraint, literally caking makeup onto their faces. Then there were the names drawn with lipstick all over their bodies. Their names, to make it blatantly clear who these men were.

"Those-those bastards!"

"That's, that's disgusting!"

The cries of outrage were however quickly overshadowed by someone breaking out into laughter. Others quickly joined in and soon enough the majority of the crowd was excitedly taking pictures with their cellphones or laughing their heads off. The guards at the checkpoint quickly shepherded the men into the building to get them out of view but it was too little too late. Within minutes photos had been texted to friends and colleagues throughout the concession and not an hour passed before the media caught wind of the spectacle. By the time evening fell it was receiving almost as much coverage as the upcoming memorial ceremony for the deceased Prince Clovis.

The drive back to Ohgi's apartment was done in uneasy silence between the occupants of the car despite the triumph of the day. For Ohgi the silence was due to his increasing concern over Kallen's conduct. The girl had seemed to be calming down after her initial burst of burning rage after Naoto's murder but ever since Shinjuku she seemed increasingly impatient to do something, anything, to continue the fight against Britannia. Kallen on the other hand was busy mulling over one of the IDs they had confiscated from the thugs. Specifically, a military ID of a certain Britannian army captain. The man in question was not a knight, just a regular commissioned officer, but his presence amongst the vigilante gang was worrying in the extreme. If the gang really did have some sort of unofficial backing in the military then there might yet be forceful retaliation an attempt to make up for lost face, at which point the restraint the cell had shown would have been rendered moot. That thought gnawed at Kallen. Tamaki on the other hand kept his mouth shut not out of any deep thoughts but simply because the environment in the car was so gloomy, instead focusing on the news report being broadcast over the radio. By the time they arrived he could not wait to get out of the car and go grab a cold beer back in the apartment. Too bad Kallen and Ohgi would be right behind, bringing the gloom with them inside.

"Thou hast returned victorious," a voice greeted the trio as they entered.

C.C. was lounging about on the sofa, an empty pizza box laying next to her.

"C.C., did you leave the apartment?" Kallen demanded.

"Nay, this age be but full of wonders, I have but to call to receiveth the bounty I desireth."

Ohgi and Tamaki blinked before looking helplessly at Kallen.

"She ordered takeout," the girl simplified.

Ohgi smacked his forehead. "Great, just what I need, for the local pizza guys to think a foreign teenage girl is staying at my place.

"Don't worry, she'll be out of your hair by tomorrow," Kallen said, casting a glance on the girl in question. "Her papers are ready and I've got a cover for her, assuming she has the self-control to actually play the part."

C.C. chuckled. "Am I to become an actress?"

"No, you're to be my personal healthcare assistant."

Everyone else at the room stared at Kallen. It was C.C. however that first managed to muster a response.

"Be that a, jest?"

"No," Kallen said with a grin. "Seeing as how I am a sickly girl, it makes sense that I should have a personal nurse on hand in case I suffer from any attacks. This way you get to stay by my side and help me when I need it, assuming you can tone down your snark for more than a minute a day."

C.C. responded with a grin of her own. "Thy challenge be accepted."

"What about her speech pattern?" Ohgi asked.

"She's being passed off as a French national," Kallen said. "That'll work with her cover as an EU agent that we're telling the rest of the cell."

The leader of said cell nodded slowly before chuckling wirily. "I never knew you could be so devious, Kallen."

"Needs must," Kallen said. "Speaking of need, we need to decide what to do with this."

The girl pulled out the military ID they had seized and Ohgi grimaced.

"I'm not sure there's anything we can do," he said. "We've let him go and this Captain, Machlin probably isn't stupid enough to poke his head in the ghettos again without a lot more backup than we could handle."

Kallen scowled. "So he's going to get away."

"I'm not so sure about that," Ohgi reasoned. "We just sent him back half naked with makeup all over his face. You saw all of those people taking pictures, by this time tomorrow his reputation will be well and truly ruined."

"I suppose," Kallen said reluctantly.

"Don't forget you crushing his jewels," Tamaki put in. "I mean damn girl, you really went for his weak spot there."

Kallen flashed a predatory smile, eliciting a sigh from Ohgi. Before he could say anything however C.C. intervened.

"I see that thou hast made good use of mine gift."

Ohgi raised an eyebrow, that was at least simple enough to understand. "You used that, geass thing today."

The smile disappeared into a scowl. "When I disarmed that guy."

"I thought we agreed you should only use it as a last resort?"

"And that bastard holding Naomi hostage didn't qualify?" Kallen retorted.

She had a point there, Ohgi had to admit, so he did not try to dispute it.

"I know what I'm doing Ohgi," Kallen said sternly. "I'm not out there taking unnecessary risks, I saw a situation and my geass allowed me to figure out the quickest and best resolution to it.

Ohgi sighed again. "Maybe it worked this time, but what you did was incredibly risky still."

Kallen regarded the man levelly. "Ohgi, you're my brother's best friend and you've always looked out for me, but you can't keep putting my safety above the success of the cell as a whole. In fact you're more liable to get more of us hurt that way. Trust me to make individual tactical decisions and I'll trust you to set the group's targets, okay?"

"Mine contractor speaketh truth," C.C. added in. "If one seeketh to avoid all risk, fortune will forever elude thee."

"Alright, I get the point," Ohgi said tiredly before cocking his head to the side. "It's been a long day. Why don't Tamaki and I cook up something for dinner and we turn in? The radio mentioned curfew for the night thanks to what happened at the border checkpoint and it's too late to get you back to the Concession. You'll stay the night and I'll drive you back tomorrow morning, sounds good?"

Kallen nodded and glanced over at C.C. "C.C., we're helping in the kitchen. You need to start pulling your own weight if you're going to pass off as my assistant."

The woman chuckled bowed in an exaggerated manner. "Thy wish is mine command."

It was never a good thing when one was summoned in the middle of the night for a meeting. When the one calling the meeting was known to be a genial and thoughtful person like the Princess Euphemia that cared about the convenience of others and Jeremiah knew someone was going to be in a lot of trouble. The man strongly suspected he would be that someone, or at least one of the someones. Upon his arrival the Margrave was quickly shown into the Princess' office. Along the way quite a few of the servants that had arrived with the Princess from the homeland shot him disapproving looks. Was it because the Princess herself was angry with him? Or did they simply disapprove of the fact that the Princess had need to call upon him at this hour? Neither bode well for the Margrave.

As Jeremiah entered the office he bowed his head low in greeting. "Your highness, I have come at your summons."

"Margrave Gottwald," Euphie said formally and sternly. "What do you make of the incident that occurred this afternoon at one of the Concession checkpoints?"

Jeremiah winced. He knew exactly what the Princess was talking about and it burned him with shame that such an obscene event had drawn her attention. Then again how could it not? The spectacle that resulted had been shown repeatedly over the news all evening.

"I am truly shamed to have allowed such an incident to occur while on my watch," Jeremiah said. "I have already detained the men involved and begun questioning them. Once I have ascertained the facts of the incident, I will provide you with a full and detailed report."

"Margrave, stand," Euphie commanded.

Jeremiah straightened but almost wished he had not. The Princess' eyes were cold and hard and gazing into them caused the man to break out into a cold sweat.

"The facts of the incident are quite obvious," Euphie said. "A group of Britannian civilians accompanied by a captain in the Britannian Army was for some reason in the ghettos. They were obviously overcome by Elevens in the area and humiliated before being sent fleeing back to the Concession. The question, Margrave, is why this group of Britannians was in the ghettos to begin with, and why the Elevens would respond to their presence in such a manner. Have you any thoughts on the matter, Margrave?"

The question directed at Jeremiah was twofold, the Margrave knew. First and foremost the Princess really was asking him if he had any idea what was going on. The second, and more important part, was Euphemia indirectly testing how honest Jeremiah would be with her. The Margrave swallowed.

"There, have been unconfirmed reports of groups of vigilante citizens entering the ghettos to seek justice for Prince Clovis' murder," Jeremiah said very carefully.

"Vigilante groups," Euphie repeated flatly. "And since when has the Britannian military been so lacking in discipline that one of its commissioned officers would consider it acceptable to engage in such acts? When did the oath all officers swore to the throne and the Empire upon being commissioned mean so little that this, captain, violated a direct order from a scion of the Imperial family to stay out of the ghettos? When did the military become full of nothing but glory hounds and joy seekers whose notion of carrying out their duty is to harass and intimidate unarmed civilians?"

The level of Euphie's voice remained the same throughout but the tone hardened with every denunciation. The anger behind the Princess' words were palatable and still she had yet to actually raise her voice. It was a cold fury on display before the Margrave and it was already more than he had ever wanted to bear. Euphie however was not finished.

"Willful disobedience of an order issued by a superior is grounds for a court martial and dishonorable discharge in times of peace," Euphie continued. "In times of war, or in areas that have yet to be pacified it is grounds for execution. Furthermore disobeying a direct order from the viceroy of an area is tantamount to treason. Would you disagree with any of those statements, Margrave?"

"No your highness," Jeremiah forced himself to say as calmly as he could manage.

"Then what is your recommendation for how Captain Machlin should be handled, Margrave? What is a fitting resolution for a Pureblood that went against the decree of a member of the Imperial family and made a spectacle of himself while the rest of the Area mourns the death of my brother?"

That last one stun, hard, and Jeremiah found himself searching for words.

"Your highness, I apologize profusely for the dishonor one of my subordinates has brought upon the military," Jeremiah said, bowing his head once more.

"Margrave," Euphie said, her voice as cold as the Arctic wind. "Do not divert your eyes. If your words are truly sincere you have no reason to hide your face in shame."

It was hard, so very hard to meet the Princess' eyes. Not when their blue was as hard and cold as ice.

"Your highness," Jeremiah nevertheless said, raising his head to meet the Princess' gaze. "You speak truth, Captain Machlin's conduct is unbecoming as both an officer of the Empire and as a member of the Purist faction."

"Truly?" Euphie said. "Is it not declared in the Purist manifesto that no Numbers should be granted the honor of serving the Empire in its armed forces? And that the Empire can only remain strong so long as the Numbers are reminded of their subordinate place within the Empire? How then, exactly are Captain Machlin's actions not in accord with the agenda of the Purebloods?"

That elicited another wince from Jeremiah. "We Purists believe that the Empire already possesses all the strength it requires from its own people. There is simply no need to allow those of questionable loyalty into the Empire's service."

"The Purists believe this, do you, Margrave?" Euphie asked.

"Yes, your highness," Jeremiah said. One thing he had learned very quickly about the Princess Euphemia was that she valued honesty and frankness even when she did not share the same opinion.

Euphie regarded Jeremiah silently for several moments.

"I find it interesting," she finally said, "that a former member of the royal guard of Empress Marianne vi Britannia, a woman who was descended from French nobility, would go on to form a political organization dedicated to the sort of exclusion that would have disallowed her to rise to the rank of knight and gain the attention of my father the Emperor. Do you perhaps regard your time under her majesty's service as a stain on your honor, Margrave?"

The accusation twisted like a knife in Jeremiah's heart.

"I hold no such thoughts towards the Empress Marianne!" Jeremiah nearly exploded. "Her Majesty was truly deserving of her rank as a Knight of the Round and then her place at the Emperor's side!"

"And yet Empress Marianne was not a pureblooded Britannian," Euphie pressed, her voice growing darker and darker. "Her family were noble exiles from France who lost everyone after that nation's republican revolution. If you truly believe that Britannia has no need to call upon the services of those not of pure Britannian heritage, then how can I believe you are not secretly pleased with the Empress' downfall? How can I know that you do not relish the murder of my beloved sister Nunnally and the suicide of my dear brother Lelouch?"

Jeremiah gaped openly at the Princess. How could she, how could she accuse him of such disloyalty? Of such dishonor? But the Princess Euphemia was dead serious, the flatness of her tone and the pain behind every word of that last sentence that perfectly clear. And deep down Jeremiah knew that the Princess had a point. How could he claim to believe firmly in the Purist creed without also washing the Empress Marianne in the same brush that he painted all others of foreign heritage with? For Marianne vi Britannia had not begun life as a child of high society, she had grown up as Marianne Lamperouge and clawed her way up through the ranks through pure competence and honest achievements.

The Margrave fell to one knee. "I am shamed, highness. Shamed that the truth you speak was something I willfully ignored for so many years. I sought to soothe my greatest failure, my failure to prevent the death of Her Majesty and her children, and blame others for my own fault. I beg your forgiveness."

"It is not my forgiveness to grant," Euphie said. "Those to whom you owe your apologies are no longer here to accept them."

"I know this to be so your highness," Jeremiah said. "And yet I must still beg your pardon, for I have shamed myself not only before Her Majesty but also before your own august self. You charged me with maintaining order within the Concessions and in this I have failed. I thus beg of you, for your mercy or your judgment."

Seconds passed with the only sound the ticking of the large grandfather clock decorating the office suite. Euphie took a deep breath and clasped her hands before her on the desk.

"Margrave Gottwald. Rise."

Jeremiah obeyed, meeting Euphie's gaze without hesitation.

"Since my arrival I have seen the decay which has taken hold in the area, I have observed the degradation of the people that has resulted, and I comprehend the cause of this decay. I do not believe this comprehension is beyond you and once you have achieved it you may yet find a way to hold your head high when you stand before Her Majesty once more. Thus I give you not my mercy nor my judgment. I give you a chance, to redeem yourself in your own eyes. Once you find the strength to forgive yourself, I will grant you that which you ask for."

The Margrave bowed deeply. "My gratitude, your highness, now and forever."

The following day the court-martial of Captain James Z. Machlin was announced by the Margrave Gottwald. The crime, disobeying the orders of his lawful superiors by engaging in unauthorized incursions into the ghettos and through such actions attempting to subvert the authority of the Viceroy Her Imperial Highness Euphemia li Britannia, Third Princess of the Realm. The implications of this act was not lost on any who saw the news, nor the fact that the charge carried with it the death sentence if the captain was convicted. The denizens of Area 11, Britannians and Elevens both, waited with bated breath for the outcome of the trial.

Suzaku finished buttoning up his uniform with a sigh. It was his first day of school and if he was completely honest he was still a little worried. The student council, well, most of them, had been welcoming enough when he visited Ashford Academy with the Princess. The wider student body was more likely to emulate the black haired girl with glasses however. In fact her avoidance of him might even be preferable compared to the likely bullying he would see. But Cécile had insisted that he should attend school and when the captain got into her insistent mode not even Lloyd dared stand in her way. It was a very interesting group dynamic in the ASSEC, one that Suzaku found himself almost enjoying.

"Suzaku, are you ready?" Cécile called into his room. "You don't want to be late for your first day of school!"

"I'm ready!" Suzaku called back as he hurried to the door. "Sorry to keep you waiting Cécile-san."

"No problem Suzaku," the woman smiled brightly. "Hmm, yes, just as I thought, the Ashford uniform really does suit you."

The boy smiled shyly. "I'm not entirely sure about that."

"No self-deprecation today young man," Cécile said. "You need to project confidence and dignity worthy of yourself. You are after all an honored member of Camelot and our representative on the Ashford campus."

"I thought I was just a part for the Lancelot," Suzaku said with a wiry smile.

"Don't listen to Lloyd," Cécile said. "He has a weird way of showing it but he also values you as a person. Well, as much as he can value anyone."

With that qualifier Cécile closed off any avenue for protest, something the woman was quite well aware of if her smile was any indication.

"Cécile-san, can I ask a question?"

"Of course."

"Umm, it's about the Princess."

Cécile tilted her head to the side. "What of her highness?"

"She seemed very familiar with the Ashfords, how do they know each other?"

"The headmaster used to be a baron active at the court in Pendragon," Cécile said. "Milly Ashford herself also lived there for the first few years of her childhood."

"I see," Suzaku said, "so the Princess and Milly met as children."

Cécile nodded. "That is the gist of it. Any further detail you will have to ask Milly yourself at school."

Suzaku nodded but paused as a thought occurred to him. "The headmaster use to be a baron?"

Cécile pursed her lips. "He lost his title of nobility due to fallout from political infighting at the court. It was why he ultimately migrated to Area 11."

"I see," Suzaku said more quietly.

"The Ashford family however has done quite well since then," Cécile said. "Many prominent families send their children to the academy and it is regarded as the best school for both primary and secondary education in the area." The woman glanced over at Suzaku. "So stay on your toes, Suzaku, and don't bring any shame to the ASSEC name."

"I won't Cécile-san," Suzaku assured the woman.

Half an hour later he stood before the main gates of Ashford Academy, trying to work up the nerve to walk through. Fortunately a helping hand was soon extended.

"Yo," a voice sounded as said hand clapped Suzaku on the shoulder.

The boy jumped slightly and turned to see a familiar face standing next to him.

"Oh, Rivalz-san," Suzaku said.

"Milly thought this might happen so she sent me to fetch you," the other boy said with a grin. "C'mon, let's go."

"Umm, thank you."

"Don't worry about it, I am the student council vice-president, it's my job to look out for all students."

"But still, thanks," Suzaku said.

"Don't mention it. C'mon, let's get you to the office. I know you've registered for classes but you still need to pick up a few things and we can introduce you to your homeroom teacher."

Suzaku nodded as he handed his ID over to the gate guard. The man looked over both it and the boy carefully before handing the card back to Suzaku and waving him through. The boy offered a bow before stepping through the gates. He really was going to attend school here. It still did not feel quite real but with every step the reality sank in just a bit more. As they walked through the halls more than one person stared at Suzaku and the boy did his best to appear oblivious.

"Here we are, the main office," Rivalz said not long after they entered the building. His ears seemed to perk up. "Oh, that sounds like Kallen. Looks like she's well enough to come back to school again."

Suzaku strained his ears and quickly picked up on the voice Rivalz seemed to recognize.

"-yes, here are Mademoiselle Cloutier's credentials, as you can see she is well qualified as a medical assistant."

Rivalz opened the door and stepped in with Suzaku following. He glanced over towards the direction of the forces and froze mid step. The two girls seemed to sense his entrance and glanced over. The redhead's eyes widened while the girl with long green hair narrowed hers. Suzaku's response was little better as he felt his jaw drop. It was them, that Japanese resistance fighter and the strange girl inside what was supposed to be a poison gas container. Both were wearing Ashford uniforms and both obviously recognized him. Time seemed to stand still as the the three locked gazes on each other, oblivious to everyone else around them. Suzaku swallowed. Sometime told him the next few moments would make or break more than just his school life here at Ashford. He could not afford to make a mistake. He turned to face the two directly.

The fields of Megiddo were aflame and littered with the aftermath of battle. Dozens of shattered Bamides dotted the land, some still smoldering from when their ammunition or fuel cooked off. A few ragged survivors on foot were making their way towards Jerusalem in a futile attempt to escape the Britannian forces. Those not completely devoid of sense had surrendered themselves rather than try to make the hundred kilometer trek. Especially seeing as the Britannian forces would almost certain begin their own march upon the city soon enough. The MEF was done for, its last major fighting force broken on the plains of Armageddon.

Cornelia surveyed the scene from her personal Gloucester, noting with satisfaction the orderly state of her own forces. The MEF had shown considerable imagination and tactical sense, mustering their forces to strike north at the Princess' supply line instead of being baited by her artillery strikes on the city. Unfortunately for them Cornelia had prepared for such a contingency and her Knightmare Corps was positioned to perform a flanking maneuver. She would have liked to be in the first wave that struck the enemy but a general fighting on the frontlines was a general that was not paying attention to the bigger picture like she was supposed to. Still, rank did come with privileges and once the situation was well in hand she had given Darlton command and took personal charge of the forces that moved in to cut off the MEF's retreat.

By now evening was settling in and the Britannian forces were withdrawing to their own camps. Cornelia could see no sign of the patrols that were supposed to sweep the surrounding area for sneak attacks or enemy scouts, which was how it should be. If she could make out those patrols from her position then the enemy could just as easily find them from theirs. Cornelia smiled proudly at the efficiency of the forces under her command. Three months, that was how long it had taken Britannia to break the Middle East Federation even with all the discreet support the European Union had funneled to their allies. With this the conquest and formation of Area 18 was now an established fact. Cornelia could hand the land over to a regular officer and the bureaucrats and hurry to Area 11 now.

Margrave Gottwald was supposed to be a competent officer and Cornelia vaguely remembered having him under her command what seemed like a lifetime ago as part of Empress Marianne's royal guard, but Clovis had been murdered under that man's watch. Cornelia frowned. Just as the Empress had been murdered under hers. The Marshal shook herself. No, the same fate would not befall her beloved sister Euphie. She would go to Area 11, whip its military into shape, and crush this insolent insurrection. This Cornelia swore.

End of Chapter 6

Heh, two cliffhangers, one scene wise and one plot wise.

In real life a general does not lead the charge against an enemy. A general stays behind the frontlines to coordinate the battle. If you're Rommel your definition of behind the frontlines might be a bit looser than convention but your primary responsibility is still to issue commands to the troops, not taking shots at the enemy yourself. And if as a general you do find yourself in that situation, then things have either gone completely to hell on you or you're incompetent. There is very little middle ground. But that probably isn't dramatic enough for anime. Let's see if I can make it dramatic in text.

A big problem with having lots of characters is that they all need screen time to develop properly. Suzaku and C.C. have been kind of getting the short end of the stick the last chapter which I need to avoid doing if I'm going to be able to employ them properly for the roles they are intended for. To make any of their actions believable what they do has to make sense from the context of their personality. I think this was one of the major failings of the anime, too often a character's development was dictated by the demands of the plot and their way of thinking was abruptly changed to whatever was most convenient. That's not realistic and is likely a reason for why certain characters get a lot of hate. Though, having said that, if one hates a significantly large percentage of the characters, then, what exactly are you a fan of in Code Geass?

Anyway, word count per chapter is highly like to start climbing if it really does turn out I need to inject more scenes to develop the characters more thoroughly. I'm of two minds about that, as I said in In Tune I prefer to keep my chapters between 6 to 8 thousand words. If I start regularly toeing or breaching 9 thousand, that might end up being a bit tiring for people to read through.

Anyway, I hope all of you are enjoying my vision of Euphemia. I really don't feel like the canon did her justice and even in Knightmare of Nunnally it seemed like she just did not get enough screen time to shine. Kallen on the other hand got railroaded into so many ridiculous things by the writers that even though she got loads of screen time her character still felt underdeveloped.

Drop a line if you've enjoyed A Cold Calculus thus far.