Prologue

The Ratio of Loss

V.V. wheezed, the unfamiliar exertions taking their toll. His petite frame already slowed his trek as he clambered through the forest, but he could not let that or his exhaustion stop him. Not if he wanted to see through his vision after such a monumental and unexpected setback. Things were not supposed to have gone so awry as to force him to flee on foot, but he had miscalculated. That much V.V. could admit, if only to himself. All the years of effort, the sacrifices made, to bring about a perfect world without lies and deceit, and all of it brought crashing down in only a fortnight because of one conniving woman. No, two conniving women, for Marianne vi Britannia, consort to V.V.'s brother the Emperor Charles, was far from her own woman. Above and beyond any proper fealty she might owe to her husband, Marianne was at the beck and call of the Grandmaster of Eden Vital, C.C.

C.C., if there was one woman that V.V. held greater antipathy for, that would be her. She had appeared in Charles and his time of greatest need, had dangled honeyed words before them, and the two, desperate boys that they were, had lapped it all up. Even back then though, V.V. had had his suspicions about C.C.'s true intentions, about whether she actually shared in his and his brother's vision. And then C.C. had presented to Charles a new retainer, someone she claimed would be of immeasurable assistance in achieving their grand design. That retainer turned out to be a knight by the name of Marianne Lamperouge. Charles was smitten on sight, and with the passage of the years his closeness with Marianne only increased while a similar distancing occurred with his own brother.

At first V.V. was befuddled. Marianne was not the first consort Charles had taken, and not even the first to bear his children. He could not see what was so special about her that would cause Charles to lose rational sense. But he did not need to see that to realize what was really going on. As emperor, Charles was capable of marshaling great resources towards whatever suits his whims. As powerful as Eden Vital may be, there were still times when such temporal means were of use. By ensnarling Charles with Marianne, C.C. could ensure continued support for her own ambitions while feigning agreement with Charles and V.V. In other words, C.C. and Marianne were yet more spinners of lies, just like all the rest. As ever, the only ones that V.V. and Charles could truly trust were each other, or so V.V. presumed. What had transpired the past day however was forcing V.V. to reassess even that supposedly cardinal truth.

If Marianne and C.C. were indeed deceiving them as V.V. suspected, then the solution was simple enough in concept, even if somewhat less simple to execute. After all, C.C.'s possession of a code made her functionally immortal except in very specific situations, and maneuvering her into such a situation would require a great deal of effort. Marianne however was bereft of any such protections, which made eliminating her the logical first step in reasserting control over his and his brother's plan. And so that was what V.V. did, for his brother's sake as much as his own.

While V.V. had certainly not expected Charles to be unmoved by the loss of his beloved, he had still been certain that ultimately his brother would see reason and understand that, as so many times before, what V.V. did was for the best. What V.V. had severely underestimated however was just how deeply Marianne had sank her fangs into Charles, for upon her death the emperor had reacted with not just the grief and sorrow V.V. had anticipated, but genuine rage. Rage against V.V., his own flesh and blood. Such a turn of events V.V. could never have imaged even in his worst nightmares. No, in truth he had foreseen it, for that was why he moved against Marianne in the first place. But he had hoped that it was not too late, that Charles would see reason once more with that woman's poisonous influence removed. It was not to be, as in his rage Charles had set his other knights upon V.V.

It was only with the sacrifice of some of his most capable agents that V.V. was able to escape Pendragon and make for the New York thought elevator. Even now agents of the emperor and the Order were certainly on his tail, and likely laying in wait at the thought elevator itself. But if he could reach the elevator's sanctum, if he could activate its systems, he could make his escape and rally those other agents still loyal to the true cause. That would grant him the reprieve he needed to wait out Charles' fury, for V.V. still hoped that his brother would eventually realize the merit of V.V.'s actions. Then they could be reunited in purpose as they should be and see to fruition the creation of a new, perfect world, together. But for such an outcome to occur, sometime in the unknowable future, he needed to make good his escape in the here and now.

The underbrush rustled, causing V.V. to start.

"Who's there!?" he demanded instinctively, and immediately regretted. If there were hunters in the vicinity, he would have just given away his location.

No further noise sounded, to both V.V.'s relief and chagrin. For all he knew a gust of wind had disturbed the undergrowth, but such idle speculation was all he could afford. Resuming his trek, V.V. closed in on the thought elevator. The artifact was within a secured military zone, with guards that had orders to shoot trespassers on sight. The entire outer perimeter was fenced off, with an inner perimeter surrounded by concrete walls. While V.V. had approved of such measures prior to the present schism with his brother, now they served as not inconsiderable inconveniences to his escape. Climbing the fence might be doable, even if working through the barbed wire at the top would be painful. Doing the same with the inner walls would be impossible without proper equipment that he lacked however. As V.V. contemplated his options, the sound of rustling leaves echoed in his ears again. This time he at least did not call out, but he did twirl about to try and catch sight of whatever caused the noise.

"You know, with all the noise you make," a voice sounded, "just keeping your yap shut ain't gonna cut it."

V.V. whirled about. "I know that voice. Luciano?"

"In the flesh," a man with a garish orange hairstyle stepped out, his camouflaged outfit having helped him blend into the background previously. "Looks like you're in something of a pickle, Your Eminence."

"A temporary setback," V.V. insisted. "Once I reach my acolytes I will have all that I need to set all this right."

"Don't you mean if?" Luciano remarked. "Not sure how you charging the thought elevator all by your lonesome would go."

"But I'm not alone more, aren't I?" V.V. said with a smirk of his own. "I have with me a man they are already calling the Vampire of Britannia, for his skill in spilling the blood of his opponents."

Luciano gave a slight cackle. "You so sure I'm here to help you and not nab you for the fat reward the Emperor's sure to be offering?"

"Of certitude," V.V. responded. "After all, aiding me also serves your own personal interests."

The knight tilted his head. "Oh? And why's that?"

The smirk darkened into a sneer. "Should I escape, I am certain my brother, in his current misguided state, will go to great lengths to try to stymie my efforts. Some of that length will almost certainly include military action, against a wide range of foes. What better opportunity for the Vampire to properly sate his thirst than an actual war? Or are you actually satisfied with hunting down mere insurgents and other such malcontents?"

Luciano's eyes flickered before his own expression mirrored that of V.V.'s face.

"Alright, I can see that. But a war's not gonna do me much good if I'm not around to fight in it," Luciano said. "I ain't exactly the most popular guy around, and none of the other knights would believe me for a second if I tried to pull some half-assed lie. His Majesty'd get pretty suspicious too if you slipped away on my watch."

"Then we simply make the lie the truth," V.V. said as he drew closer to the knight. "You let your guard down around me, and I made use of you to enact my escape."

"You what now?" Luciano said, blinking and looking down at the small figure.

V.V. pulled off his glove and reached up, touching Luciano's bare skin on the knight's face. The man flinched reflexively at the sudden contact, and then went deadly still. A few moments later he blinked, a pair of black orbs staring blankly out the sockets. Then he blinked again, and the gray irises returned.

"Ah, excellent," V.V. said with a satisfied nod. "The guards around the thought elevator may actually have been briefed about my abilities, but it looks like you were not taken into such close confidence by my brother. Oh, don't worry, I'll be releasing you once we're done with the necessary wet work. After all, having you remain within the Empire's ranks serves my purposes as well. Now, shall we get going?"

Luciano turned about wordlessly and began towards the thought elevator, with V.V. right behind.

The sound of footsteps stirred Lelouch from his uneasy vigil, footsteps mixed with urgent tones. Looking about, the boy affirmed for himself that the steady beep from the medical instrumentation still sounded, that his sister, so terribly lamed, was at least still drawing breath. Only once this was ascertained did he turn his attention towards discerning whom might be approaching. Familiar voices soon reached his ears.

"-still too young!" came the roar.

Lelouch recognized the voice with ease, albeit rarely could he recall it being raised like so. His father Charles was a masterful orator, whom knew well how to amplify his presence with just the right fervor and emphasis in his words. Whenever the emperor's voice rose, so did a sense of confidence and grandeur. Now though, those qualities were entirely lacking, and Charles sounded simply angry, with a hint of sorrow mixed in. The voice that responded did so with unnerving steadiness.

"Your union with Marianne was granted my blessing with the understanding that the Order would have call upon any children she birthed," the feminine voice said. "With her passing, and with the clear threat posed to them, I am making that call for both Lelouch and Nunnally."

"Nunnally is in a coma," Charles growled, "and Lelouch has barely seen his tenth birthday. What makes you think either of them are in a position to bear the burdens that Eden Vital would demand of them?"

"Why don't we ask your son himself?" the woman suggested, opening the door to reveal Lelouch standing behind.

The young prince looked up, golden eyes meeting his own violet pair. He recognized her, a woman who came often to the Imperial Ares Villa to visit his mother. The two had even conversed once or twice, though Lelouch had never caught her name. For some reason, despite the woman's youthful appearance, Lelouch always felt as if an ancient presence lay behind those golden eyes.

"Lelouch."

The boy looked over at Charles. "What is this you speak of, Father?"

The emperor grimaced. "Matters that you are far too early to be imparted with, Son."

A stubborn look crossed Lelouch's face. "Matters that involve Mother? And those that murdered her?"

For a boy of such age, Lelouch's vocabulary was remarkably expansive. Charles' grimace deepened. It was certainly expansive enough to include words whose meaning felt far too weighty for his son just yet.

"Yes, and yes." It was the green-haired woman that answered instead of Charles. She leaned over to be more level-eyed with Lelouch. "You are aware that your mother was a follower of Eden Vital, no?"

The Order of Eden Vital was a religious denomination that traced its roots all the way back to the founding of the Old Kingdom. Its internal structure was nebulous to outsiders, but its reach was undeniable. Members of the Order could be found in all walks of life, from the poorest ghettos to the imperial court itself. The Order emphasized discipline, resolve, but also compassion in its doctrine, preaching that the act of overcoming adversity was not in and of itself sufficient, one must come out a better person for it, as otherwise the cost paid would weigh too heavily upon one's soul.

To that end the Order maintained a widespread network across Britannia, and indeed in other countries as well, wherein it carried out practical charitable works. While the Order certainly did try to feed the hungry or heal the infirm, the emphasis on practicality saw them expend much more effort and resources on services like counseling or polytechnical training domestically and basic infrastructure overseas.

Such benevolence from an Order based in a nominally autocratic and social Darwinist society like Britannia was regarded with more than a measure of unease and suspicion though, with many critics arguing that Eden Vital was merely the carrot to the big stick that was the Imperial Britannian Armed Forces, or even the silken glove that hid the iron fist. That Eden Vital's hierarchy beyond its local branches was rather opaque only made it easier to hold suspicions about the organization. Something told Lelouch however that the woman that stood before him now was very high up in that hierarchy.

"She taught me the tenets," Lelouch finally answered. "She said they would serve to guide me to fulfilling my potential."

"That they will," the woman said. "But whether you succeed or fail will be down to your own merit. Others may guide or teach, but it is you and you alone that must choose to accept or turn away."

Lelouch returned the woman's gaze. "I will never turn away."

A chuckle sounded and the woman ruffled his hair. The boy glared at her a bit.

"Who are you?" he half demanded.

"I am the Grandmaster of the Order of Eden Vital," the woman declared. "Your mother was one of my finest acolytes. I granted her leave to have a family with Charles with the understanding that she would one day return to her duties within the Order. I thus find myself with a need unfulfilled. A need that you may prove capable of meeting."

Lelouch looked over at his father, in mild wonderment at someone referring to him so casually. Everyone else that spoke of the emperor did so with the proper honorifics. This woman, this Grandmaster though, she seemed to treat his father as if he were a child himself instead of the sovereign ruler of one of the mightiest nations in the world.

"I have needs as well," Lelouch responded, trying to maintain his composure despite the strangeness of this encounter. He glanced back at Nunnally. "Needs for my sister." Then shot the woman an angry glare. "And needs of my own."

"What care your father might be able to marshal, Eden Vital is capable of providing that and more," the woman declared. "Charles himself can attest to this, however reluctantly.

Lelouch looked over at his father and the emperor gave an unhappy grunt. He nodded nonetheless, which caused Lelouch's eyes to widen again. The Grandmaster was claiming power beyond even that of the Emperor of Britannia. What could someone already with such power at their disposal possibly have needed from his mother? From him?

"As for your own needs," the woman continued, drawing Lelouch's attention back to herself. "It is a surety that the one whom dared raise his hand against Marianne has attracted the fullest of my ire."

Lelouch's eyes shot wide open at that. "You know who murdered my mother!?"

"How could I not," the grandmaster said, casting a sideways glance at Charles.

"Who!?" the boy demanded.

The woman looked back at Lelouch. "All this and more are for you to learn, for the right price."

That price being Lelouch himself. The boy glanced over at his father, whose disgruntlement was as evident as it could be from the way he grimaced. But Charles offered no words to bar his son and instead looked to be waiting for Lelouch to make a decision himself.

"Father," Lelouch thus spoke. "I would take up the oaths of the Order."

The scowl deepened. "Do you make this decision knowing the full magnitude of what you commit yourself to? Of what the final cost will be?"

"The cost is my self," Lelouch answered. "And what my self buys is immeasurable."

"Is vengeance so immeasurable?" Charles said with a hint of reproach.

Lelouch looked back at the bed behind him, then back at his father. "At the least, her life is."

The woman gave a slight chuckle. "A kind heart but of steely resolve, much like your mother."

Charles' expression softened into a mixture of sadness and pride. Kneeling down, he placed a hand on Lelouch's shoulder. The determination was clear enough in the boy's eyes, in the firmness of his jaw. He had made his choice, and because it was for the sake of another, he would not be swayed by it. Having come to this, there was only one thing the emperor could do.

"A man who takes on vestments cannot stand in line to the throne," he said gravely. "Even so, you are and always will be my son. Never forget that."

Lelouch gave a firm nod. "I won't, Father."

Charles rose and let out a deep sigh. He looked over at the woman, a flicker of irritation crossing his face.

"You have your ward, C.C. I trust you will not give me further cause to regret giving my word."

C.C., Lelouch now had a name to go along with the title, even if it was a rather strange one.

"Have I ever not held true to my oaths?" C.C. retorted.

"That and providing satisfaction are far from the same," was Charles' response.

The woman snorted, then after a quick glance at Lelouch regarded the emperor once more.

"There is one additional matter that demands swift action," she began. "V.V.'s escape through the New York elevator."

Charles' jaw tightened. "What of it?"

"You know as well as I that he still has sympathizers and adherents," C.C. stated. "From his redoubt at the Taklamakan thought elevator, he is in a position to inflict tremendous harm should he be left unchecked. Or further harm, I should say."

Lelouch looked back and forth between the two, his eyes narrowing. "V.V. Is he the one that murdered Mother?"

The emperor let out an annoyed hiss. "C.C."

"Tis a teaching moment," the woman answered nonchalantly before bending over to Lelouch. "Indeed he is, and you will learn about him and more soon enough. For now, watch and learn." She straightened to regard Charles again. "It is a certainty that he will attempt to enact the grand design on his own. To do so, he will have need to construct a Sword of Akasha of his own."

Unfamiliar terms, even if Lelouch understood each individual word.

Charles snorted. "The best of luck to him for that. Doing so would require enough sakuradite to bankrupt an empire."

C.C. tapped her lips with a finger. "And yet, is there not such a source nearby that he might yet find the means to seize?"

Charles' expression went blank for a brief moment. "You're suggesting he might manipulate the Chinese Federation into attacking Japan."

"The Vermillion Court dances upon his palm," C.C. pointed out. "He has traded one empire for another, but an empire nonetheless."

Charles' expression deepened into a more contemplative frown. "The only means to ensure that option is removed would be to take Japan for ourselves."

Lelouch's eyes now widened as he realized the full extent of the conversation he was listening in on.

"Your generals and knights have been clamoring for opportunity to prove their martial prowess," C.C. said with a slight shrug. "And the prize would include not only an immense wealth of sakuradite, but also the thought elevator that sits within Japan. That by itself would be worthwhile, no?"

The emperor took a moment to consider the points. "Three elevators in Britannia's hands now, four if we took Japan. Which would leave just one more to secure the majority, and ensure we hold control over the entire system."

C.C. nodded. "And prevent V.V. from advancing his own plans."

Charles clucked his tongue. "It would take some not inconsiderable effort."

"Then the pieces best be set into motion quickly, no?"

The seconds ticked away quietly as Charles held C.C. in his gaze. The silence was finally broken by the sigh that he let out. The emperor gave a curt nod, as if he were accepting a command instead of being the one issuing it, and cast one final glance at Lelouch before turning to take his leave. As for the boy himself, Lelouch had just enough awareness to understand that the conversation that just concluded was merely a prelude, a prelude to war. He looked up at C.C., a hint of nervousness in his eyes. For all his claim to be ready for the price asked, what was yet to come was still a complete mystery to the boy. It was only natural then that he exhibit at least some apprehension.

As if sensing that apprehension, C.C. reached out and took Lelouch's hand. The smile that she offered had a gentle air to it, one that almost reminded Lelouch of the mother that was now gone.

"Shall we be on our way as well, Lelouch?"

The boy a deep breath, and then nodded. The step he took now would be the first of many with C.C. in hand. And with many others too.

End of Prologue

Right, I know some of you following my other stories might get a bit annoyed by how much I'm splitting my attention. Well, to be honest, my attention was already so scattered due to work that you probably wouldn't have gotten faster updates even if I hadn't spent the time to pump this out. Yes, I know that's not really any consolation. But hey, at least you guys get something out of me while we're all in lockdown.

A touch of insanity, probably a dash of misogyny as well. We'll see who's still alive by the end of all this.

When some of my readers asked if I would ever be interested in writing a Lelouch as still a prince story, my response was in the negative, that my imagination was not coming up with any premises that would be interesting enough for me to spin into actual stories. That is technically still the case, as the Lelouch in this story is technically not a prince. As the story summary indicates, Lelouch is a cardinal within Eden Vital, and like many others of royal blood whom took on vestments he has renounced his secular titles. The exact nature of his relationship with the rest of his family subsequent to this will be revealed in the coming chapters, assuming I get to them.

Readers who followed Nightmare of Nunnally will pick up on the bits and pieces I've pulled from that particular storyline. As usual however, I would caution against setting your expectations based on what happened in that manga. I have demonstrated many a times that I can and will take liberties with the source material as I see fit to meet the needs of my own story, and that you can't necessarily use any preconceptions formed from the source material to guide your understanding of my works.

I would also recommend that anyone whose sense of validation is dependent on a particular representation/portrayal of a fictional character to go elsewhere. The course I take with characters in my stories is solely at my discretion for what I feel the story's direction needs, and if this is emotionally intolerable for you, it'd probably be healthier and more productive to look elsewhere for such fulfillment, because it definitely won't be forthcoming from me.

Don't own Code Geass, if only I did, all the things I could do with it.