Scheming

It was late at night, when everyone was lost in dreams, yet a lamp still burned in Ask's chambers.

Ask sat in a soft chair, deep in thought. Beatrice had long since left, and Monica was the only one still at his side.

"Your Highness, it's already two in the morning. You have a meeting called by the emperor in the morning. You should get some rest."

Monica was kneading Ask's shoulders. She had been massaging him for an hour without a single complaint, but watching him repeatedly rub his eyes, ponder, and sigh filled her with worry.

"Mm..."

That brief reply was all he offered. Seeing this, Monica stopped trying to interrupt him.

Ever since Beatrice had left, Ask had been thinking.

The neutral faction, led by First Prince Odysseus, leaned toward conservatism and readily went with the flow. They only wanted to keep themselves safe in the factional struggle. Of course, some also hoped to get lucky-or perhaps theirs was simply the natural line of reasoning: First Prince Odysseus was the foremost heir to the throne, first in the line of succession, and stood a very good chance of becoming the next emperor.

Second Prince Schneizel's faction, on the other hand, was somewhat divided. Some leaned toward radicalism, believing that Prince Schneizel's talents were enough to take the empire to even greater heights. Others hoped for world peace. They did not believe that people from the colonies were inherently inferior, a view rarely found anywhere in the Britannian Empire. Yet these were precisely the people who had placed their hopes in Schneizel.

Though the peace faction was small, it maintained a delicate balance with the radicals. This also had something to do with Schneizel's personality: the demeanor he presented was more in keeping with the peace faction's outlook.

By contrast, the faction led by Ask consisted of hawks through and through, advocating Britannian rule over the world. The other royals also jokingly called them the "emperor's faction."

That was because the hawks' views aligned perfectly with the emperor's. They simply believed that Ask was better suited to leading Britannia than an emperor who spent all his time ignoring worldly affairs.

Of course, Ask's hawks also included the Pureblood Faction. Some of them had once been Marianne's followers and had switched their allegiance to Ask after her assassination. They believed that, of Marianne's three children, only Ask could contend with the other two major factions.

To Ask, the neutral faction was nothing to fear. Rather than neutral, he preferred to call them mediocre. They huddled in their own little patch of territory, enjoying their paltry power without any ambition or achievement.

Ask had never considered Odysseus an opponent, but his faction's strength could not be underestimated. He was, after all, the eldest prince, and most of his followers were veteran officers of the empire.

Schneizel's faction struck Ask as somewhat troublesome-or, more precisely, Schneizel himself did. He had perfected the art of putting on a facade, and his skill at winning people over was at least equal to Ask's.

In their past chess matches, Ask had lost more often than he had won. Even now, his chances of victory were not particularly high.

Still, the greatest headache for Ask remained Emperor Charles. Even setting aside his mysterious Geass research, the Knights of the Round alone were more than Ask could handle at present.

Aside from the late Imperial Consort Marianne, every member of the Knights of the Round came from a powerful family. They already commanded considerable influence of their own, and their combat strength was unmatched by any other faction.

All things considered, his current chances of seizing power were undoubtedly zero.

Ask would have to keep biding his time, but he already had a rough plan. Especially now that he had secured Beatrice's help, its chances of success were high.

It was just that...

Ask turned and glanced at Monica. He had too few top-tier fighters at his disposal. To ensure that the plan went smoothly, he needed at least one more fighter on the level of a Knight of the Round.

"What a headache."

Ask sighed helplessly and decided to get some rest first. There was no point in overthinking things now. Plans could never keep up with changes.

I should get Monica into the Knights of the Round first, then think about the rest.

Ask reclined in his chair and motioned for Monica to lie down beside him, then dozed for a while.

The next day.

The meeting began as scheduled. Ask stood below the dais, feeling a little drowsy. His position was directly behind First Prince Odysseus, very close to the throne. Their places were determined not only by rank and authority, but also by their individual strength.

Emperor Charles, who revered the law of the jungle, had vigorously promoted his famous maxim from his very first day on the throne: "People are not born equal." He generously granted the strong ample authority. Schneizel, for instance, had the power to issue quasi-Class One orders. Revoking such an order required approval signed by someone of governor-general rank or higher, or by at least three officers of general rank or higher. The weak, however, he dismissed out of hand. He even refused to meet them directly, considering it nothing more than a waste of his time.

This meeting offered a rare opportunity for a direct audience with the emperor.

Still, the meeting itself was merely a formality. Barring unforeseen circumstances, it was held once a month as a routine matter. While deterring foreign enemies, it also reminded the imperial family that the emperor was still alive.

Ask was thoroughly bored, but his position did not allow him to leave on a whim.

Then the herald's voice rang out once more:

"Presenting His Highness Lelouch vi Britannia, Eleventh Prince of the Holy Britannian Empire, for an audience."

Stirring music began to play, and Lelouch, only nine years old, walked in wearing the attire reserved for imperial princes.

Seeing the resolve on Lelouch's face, Ask's lips curved slightly. Interesting.

"My son Lelouch, what is it you wish to say?"

Emperor Charles's imposing voice echoed through the hall.

"Your Majesty, Mother... is dead."

Grief colored Lelouch's voice. He lowered his head, fighting to keep his tears from falling.

Yet Charles's reply left him unable to believe his ears.

"And?"

"Huh? And...?"

He raised his head, and anger gradually filled his young face.

"Mother was assassinated! Right here in this palace!"

Lelouch demanded an answer from Charles on the throne, yet all he received in return was the same dismissive expression.

"Ridiculous. Requesting an audience over such a trivial matter is nothing but a waste of my time!"