"Lieutenant Hyuga."
Leaving the general's office, Leila called softly.
A youth stood there, sharp and composed.
Blue hair, blue eyes, delicate features, a slender yet wiry frame, his tight, well-trained muscles wrapped in the waist-fitted light-blue E.U. training uniform. His crisp bearing and upright stance, like an unsheathed blade, silently displayed his discipline as a young officer.
His far-eastern face and Japanese surname made it obvious—he was an Eleven.
"Commander Malcal."
In the corridor, the young officer addressed as Hyuga naturally stepped forward to follow behind Leila. Ignoring the strange looks from the guards and staff officers passing by, he asked in a tone far older than his years: "What are the next arrangements? Are we returning directly to Weisswolf Castle Base?"
Holding her colonel's commission certificate in her right hand, Leila shook her head heavily. "Tomorrow, there's a Council of Forty meeting. Politicians and bureaucrats need these meetings to feel reassured. I must attend as an observer."
"Sorry, you'll have to spend one more day in a Paris that is anything but romantic."
For Elevens without European citizenship, Paris was not romantic at all.
The batons of military police, tasers, tear gas, and rubber bullets were the reality.
"Protecting Commander Malcal is my duty."
The young officer replied calmly: "If anything, this counts as a pre-war holiday."
His gaze lingered on Leila's new colonel insignia, the three diamond stars.
So fast, another promotion…
Even if Commander Malcal had the Malcal conglomerate's backing, General Smilas' support at HQ, and good relations with the Clement Industries that developed the [Alexander], to be promoted twice in barely a month—at just seventeen years old, rising from Major to Colonel—was excessive. The E.U. wasn't the autocratic Britannia. Even if it wore democracy as a thin veneer…
And considering the worsening reports from the Eastern Front.
A promotion before battle—in other words:
Your time to bleed has come.
"So, when will our WZERO headquarters deploy again?"
Though phrased as a question, his tone was certain.
He said headquarters, because the WZERO Unit had expanded.
Thanks to the violent backlash in Euro Britannia after the suicide charges—and the reports, especially Princess Vela's retaliatory order conscripting Elevens—it was like pouring oil on the fire.
Aside from Leila's direct command at Weisswolf Castle Base, garrisons all across the E.U. had, fearful of lacking cannon fodder, coerced and conscripted countless able-bodied men from Eleven refugee camps across Europe, forming them into suicide squads. Each branch was led by volunteer regular E.U. officers, organized by region.
Leila of Weisswolf Castle was the nominal commander.
Tap, tap.
"You can't be deceived. This fleeting peace won't last. The battle waiting for us lies just ahead."
Stopping, tightening her grip on the external hard drive in her hand, Leila sighed faintly, turning toward the ace of the WZERO Unit she had built—the greatest hero of the Narva operation, the only survivor among the first wave of youth suicide pilots: Akito Hyuga.
The true "Hannibal's Ghost" who had ravaged the Raphael Knights.
On the battlefield of blood and fire, she had seen with her own eyes his ultra-high-speed maneuvers, his precision down to mere fractions of a millimeter, his killing posture.
Knightmares were replaceable, but pilots were not. As long as his machine's performance was strong and advanced enough, even Britannia's Knights of the Round would not daunt him.
"Mm."
Akito Hyuga nodded calmly.
And nothing more.
"…"
The atmosphere fell suddenly silent.
"Sorry."
Leila spoke with guilt and remorse: "For dragging you into this hell. For pulling your fellow countrymen into the war between the E.U. and Britannia…"
"Just the commander's orders."
Akito shook his head lightly, his tone carrying the sharpness only a veteran who had long danced with death on the battlefield could possess. The contrast with his youthful appearance was stark.
"The other Elevens—no, Japanese—have nothing to do with me. I've already died once. I don't even know what the Japanese archipelago looks like. Now, I just want to do what I want. If it is the commander's will, then let me kill for you."
"Thank you."
Pressing her lips together, Leila let a smile fitting her age surface, offering a simple thanks before resuming her stride.
The two walked down the long corridor of the E.U. Joint Headquarters, one after the other.
"If we encounter members of the Eleven Expeditionary Corps, Lieutenant, I can understand if you…"
Before she could finish—
"No need. If they are enemies, I'll kill them."
"…!!"
Turning a corner, passing a panoramic window, Leila quickly changed the subject.
"I've gathered intelligence on the Eleven Expeditionary Corps. They are reportedly commanded by Suzaku Kururugi, son of Japan's last Prime Minister, along with Shin Hyuga Shaing of the St. Michael Knights."
Thinking for a moment, she added uncertainly: "The latter is also Japanese, but adopted by the noble Shaing family, accepted by Britannia, renamed Shin Hyuga Shaing. This 'Hyuga'… I don't know if it has any connection with you… Lieutenant?"
By then, Akito was no longer hearing her.
"So, he's serving in Britannia now… hahahaha…"
His lips twisted into a grin he could not restrain, laughter bubbling low. His face contorted into something feral, shoulders trembling as he tried to suppress the emotions surging through him.
Leila glanced sideways.
For the first time, she saw such violent emotions ripple across Akito's face.
"I-I'm sorry, Lieutenant Hyuga. Did I say something wrong? I meant no offense."
Countless thoughts flashed through Leila's mind. What was the relationship between Shin Hyuga Shaing and Akito Hyuga?
She chose not to press.
Such matters, written plainly in one's expression, were best left untouched until the other chose to speak.
Everyone had their secrets.
"No matter, Commander."
Akito murmured like a whisper: "Don't worry. I'll kill him. That man—my brother—I will kill him myself."
"Your brother?!"
Leila's eyes widened in shock.
"Yes. The brother who killed Father, Mother, and everyone."
At some point, Akito's clear blue irises had been stained by a strange, eerie crimson glow, filled with cruelty.
Anyone from the Geass Order, or anyone who understood the power of Geass, would have recognized it at once. This was the mark of being tainted by Geass.
"Because I've already died once—by his hands. So this time, it should be me who kills him."
"As for this Suzaku Kururugi—if I meet him, I'll kill him too, for you, Commander."
...
Meanwhile.
Beneath the skies of East Prussia, the River Niemen flowed quietly.
The sky was clear and beautiful, the grass swaying in the wind as military trucks rolled by.
Clang! In the breeze came the heavy, grinding clash of steel.
Along the riverbank, briefly but fiercely ravaged by war, another clash between Britannian forces and the E.U. had come to its end.
One side retreating west, the other advancing east.
Hiss—!
"Please, Miss Cecile."
Halting and shutting down the [Lancelot], Suzaku Kururugi rolled his shoulders with fatigue.
After releasing the Knightmare's energy pack permissions on the console, he withdrew the ignition key, then pulled the lever. As the cockpit hatch opened, he stood, and with a light jump, landed on the machine's shoulder.
The breeze carried hints of summer heat. Before his eyes stretched the invigorating scene of the plains.
Blue skies, white clouds, verdant forests—the vast Eastern European plain. A world completely unlike Japan, with its narrow land and scarce flatlands.
Though the air was less humid than Japan's islands, once accustomed, the wind against his face felt pleasant, easing the weight in his chest—were it not for the faint scent of gunpowder lingering within it.
Buzz… buzz…
The riverside was full of voices.
The stench of mildew and dust drifted in the air.
Britannian troops were erecting bridges across the river.
Not long ago, the E.U. Lithuanian border defense had blown up the bridges over the Niemen.
Upon receiving reports of a disastrous defeat and the death in battle of theater commander General Foch, Britannia had moved decisively.
Special operations units had been ordered to infiltrate, while amphibious Knightmares from the Marine Corps landed at the river's mouth. They had seized only a few intact bridges.
Though Knightmares and infantry could wade through or swim across, the same could not be said for supply convoys.
Warfare was warfare of logistics and systems. Just as Eastern Europe was filled with trenches and anti-vehicle obstacles, they might not stop armored riders or men—but they would stop supply trucks, forcing delays to clear or detour.
Thus, achieving the goal of delay.
Suzaku Kururugi could hear the curses of Britannian engineers as they erected pontoon bridges.
Captured E.U. soldiers were pressed into labor on the spot, used as manpower for construction.
Small detachments regularly dragged back prisoners in groups of several to a dozen, hands bound with zip ties, and delivered them to the engineers.
The defiant ones were beaten in public—not executed, unless they tried to escape and endangered the guards. Basic guarantees for prisoners were still upheld.
This was Europe, after all. East Prussia's land. Britannia was not an invading horde in a village—it was the imperial army "returning to the old capital."
"OK, Suzaku-kun, the [Lancelot]'s energy pack has been replaced."
Cecile's voice.
"My thanks."
Suzaku turned and spoke aloud.
Beside the giant maintenance vehicle, Cecile tapped keys as the numerical arms extended, lowering a large rectangular energy pack from [Lancelot]'s hand. The spent pack had just been replaced.
"Congratulations!"
A flippant, teasing voice followed.
"You passed the test, White Knight."
Hands in pockets, Earl Lloyd—nicknamed "Pudding"—smiled cheerfully. "The Royal Guard's monitoring of you has already eased, Suzaku. Have you noticed? Oh, and I just got news from Princess Vela to tell you—you're a Lieutenant now!"
Suzaku Kururugi remained silent.
Promoted—but at what cost?
The blood of his countrymen.
From the WZERO Warsaw branch of the E.U. Army—Japanese comrades sent into Lithuania for suicidal assaults against Britannia.
When they clashed, he had tried to persuade them to surrender, but their replies were nothing but sarcasm and curses.
With monitors and comrades at his side, he had no choice. Gritting his teeth, he killed them.
The E.U.'s treatment of Japanese child soldiers in Europe was worse than that of the Purists. They were nothing but human bombs. No matter how cold Princess Vela was, when she used honorary citizens as cannon fodder, she never once gave an order commanding: you, go blow yourself up.
What pained Suzaku most, though, was the transformation of his fellow soldiers in the Eleven Expeditionary Corps—like Sekiya.
After battle was joined, they no longer saw the E.U.'s Japanese as comrades. They opened fire and swung blades mercilessly, eager to kill their own in front of Britannian officers.
So ferocious were they, their savagery even overshadowed the enemy's kamikaze charges.
"Lloyd."
Perceptive Cecile, sensing the change in mood, quietly stepped up beside him. Lloyd was still rambling in his low EQ way about "captured E.U. [Alexander]s," "post-battle decorations," "and if you kill a few more I'll get you a hover-flight pack."
Without hesitation, Cecile seized him by the scruff and dragged him back into the maintenance vehicle.
Watching the two, Suzaku's face, heavy with worry and torment, softened at last into a faint smile.
Enough…
No matter how many misunderstood or attacked him, as long as he had Miss Cecile, Sir Lloyd, Lelouch, Nunnally… the student council, and Princess Euphemia's understanding and support, it was enough!
He turned his head, looking toward the Britannian frontline headquarters several kilometers away.
There, amidst masses of Knightmares, heavy armor, and command equipment, was Princess Vela herself.
Her Royal Guard stood ready, preparing for the coming assault on Königsberg after their brief rest.
Before long, another section of the military pontoon bridge was complete.
Engines thundered to life.
Tanks and IFVs rolled across hedges and dikes, treads and wheels kicking up muddy soil. Behind them came jeeps, supply trucks, and massive engineering vehicles. They roared over the pontoon, forming a column stretching for kilometers, a grand spectacle.
"Miss Cecile, Sir Lloyd, I'm heading out!"
With a swift motion, Suzaku slid back into the [Lancelot]'s cockpit. Buzz—buzz. The frame roared back to life.
"Eh? Suzaku, you've been fighting nonstop for a whole day. Won't you rest?"
Cecile ran from the maintenance vehicle, calling after him.
"No. After we take Königsberg, then I'll rest!"
No other reason—the Princess's goal lay within reach. His desire to advance burned too strongly.
Whoosh—!
"Oh? Interesting. A Special Dispatch soldier? Fighting continuously for a whole day and still sortieing. Not bad endurance."
At the frontline HQ, Nonette folded her arms, watching the platinum-painted Knightmare vanish into the horizon. She promptly ordered her adjutant to pull up the pilot's record.
"Suzaku Kururugi… so it's him."
Nonette's face lit with realization.
"This kill count? Is it real? He's only been piloting a Knightmare for a few months?"
"This boy is a talent. If the records are accurate, with proper tempering—he could become Knight of the Round material."
The Ninth Knight turned. "You drew him from Area 11 deliberately, or by chance?"
"Guess."
Vela brushed back her flowing hair with a casual hand.
"Guess if I'll answer or not."
"Enough. Don't play word games with me."
Waving a hand, Vela ordered, "Once rested, deploy."
Nonette clicked her tongue.
"You really know how to order people around, my princess."
"Of course. From now on, I'll only order more."
Vela smiled, her fingers tapping the console with the grace of a pianist. At last, her fingertip stopped upon the name—Königsberg.
"Tonight, we'll spend the night in the castle at Königsberg. Tell Lord Lohengramm to stop holding back, to guard the Northern Army Group's flank. Notify Lord Moltke to press the offensive and shake Pétain. And don't forget to broadcast Foch's death to the southern front."
From the Niemen River, the natural boundary between Lithuania and East Prussia, Königsberg lay an average of 70 kilometers away—less than 35 at its closest.
From her vantage point, through her binoculars, Vela could already glimpse the ancient city's outline.
Unlike Tokyo's Settlement, it had not been built in layered tiers. Instead, its streets reflected the geometric designs of late-18th and early-19th-century urban reforms, with neoclassical and classical architecture, few towering high-rises.
And with her preparations so thorough, how could the city not fall?
The E.U.'s decision-making body, with its three presidents, forty defense councilors, over two hundred deputies, and countless politicians, was never so efficient.
This was why, though their combined strength rivaled Britannia's, the E.U. had suffered defeat after defeat.
Too much democracy, without proper unity. Freedom run wild.
Snap—!
Vela snapped her fingers lightly. "Everyone, present me Königsberg."
As her words fell, her followers and retainers surged forth.
"Yes, Your Highness!" ×N.
The temporary field camp suddenly emptied.
But Vela herself did not rush. Calmly resting her chin in hand, she pulled up information on Königsberg.
Not military maps, but its history and legends.
"East Prussia is enough for now. No need to choke on more than we can chew. The four chivalric orders—Templar, Hospitaller, Teutonic… I hope there will be relics."
Whispering softly, Vela rose and walked toward the silver-gray steel giant, now fully recharged and serviced.
That day, the conqueror from Britannia—the sovereign uniting Central, Southern, and Eastern Europe, heir of the Habsburgs of Germany, the Romanovs of Russia, and the Hohenzollerns—returned to her faithful Königsberg.