Chương 309: The Dutiful Son and Compassionate Father
"Yes, your Majesty!"
Under the puzzled gaze of those around him, the 11th Prince of the Holy Britannian Empire did not seem to show any trace of pain or hesitation.
He was too decisive, as though his father held absolutely no place in his heart and could be discarded at any time.
"All the better. I look forward to your pledge of allegiance."
With that, Selene gave a dismissive wave, stepping past Lelouch without a backward glance and leaving.
Following Selene's order, the golden-armored imperial guards extended their hands with an unquestionable authority, indicating to Lelouch to pass over the handle of Nunnally's wheelchair.
"Brother…." Seated in her wheelchair, Nunnally cast a fearful glance at the golden-armored giants around her.
So small and delicate, she couldn't even see these terrifying, majestic giants in their entirety, no matter how high she tilted her head.
Though she wanted to say something, Nunnally wasn't a fool. She understood that her presence limited her brother's actions.
"...."
A look of struggle flickered across Lelouch's face, but in the end, he silently handed it over, bowing and standing humbly as he watched Selene's figure disappear, flanked by her guards.
He didn't make any grandiose declarations like, "If a single hair on my sister's head is harmed, I'll stop at nothing to destroy the Sacred Selene Empire." Instead, he stood there in humble silence.
The difference in status, power, and influence was too great; any words with even a hint of defiance could be seen as provocation by these golden-armored guards and the Astartes officers.
Perhaps one could say that an adult wouldn't take a child's actions seriously, but there's also a thing called the crime of lèse-majesté.
After all, his homeland, the Holy Britannian Empire, behaved in exactly this tyrannical way, didn't it?
Lelouch wouldn't risk his or his sister's life, or that of the students of Ashford Academy. He had a hunch that if he dared speak out, he would die on the spot!
"Hey, '11th Prince' of an alternate world's empire… did you hear Her Majesty's command clearly?"
A haughty female voice sounded in front of him, prompting Lelouch to raise his head. He looked up cautiously, his violet eyes taking in the tall, golden-armored women before him.
"Sisters... of Silence?" Lelouch murmured, recalling Selene's earlier words.
Compared to the tall and imposing imperial guards, these golden-armored warriors called the Sisters of Silence were comparatively 'slender.' Despite wearing exquisitely crafted Honkai Energy power armor, they could not hide their graceful figures.
They stood as tall as typical Astartes warriors, clad in ornate golden power armor with embossed symbols of two-handed swords and double-headed eagles across the breastplate, shoulder guards, helmets, and even knee guards.
A crimson, gold-trimmed cape draped over their shoulders. Each held a massive two-handed sword, its blade gleaming faintly with a purple light. Lelouch had no doubt about its sharpness, especially under the sunlight.
Through television broadcasts and various underground reports, Lelouch had heard of Astartes warriors wielding chainswords or Honkai Energy longswords to slice through Knightmare Frames.
"Yes, I'm ready. I'm not sure how you all intend to bring me to confront my father. He's in the royal palace at Pendragon, with strict security—"
Before he could finish, the leading Silent Sister officer reached out and grabbed him. In the next instant, "Aaaah—!"
The shadow beneath Lelouch's feet rippled, and suddenly, it was as if the ground connected to another dimension, and his body was abruptly pulled downward.
"Don't worry, this is just a method of rapid transport. As for Pendragon…."
...
Sensing that the aura of the otherworldly prince Lelouch had disappeared, enveloped by the Sisters of Silence, Budo spoke with a note of doubt in his voice.
"Your Majesty, there's something strange about this so-called 11th Prince of Britannia. He's going to kill his own father with his own hands, and yet he seems..."
"Excited about it, isn't he?"
Selene chuckled, continuing where Budo left off.
With a furrowed brow, Budo nodded uneasily.
Though in the Empire's thousand-year history, father-son conflicts for the throne were not unheard of, any emperor who resorted to patricide never kept the throne for long, and opposition sprang up everywhere.
With Budo's conservative loyalty, he saw it as natural for a sovereign to kill subjects, but the reverse was unthinkable!
"Don't worry about it. Britannia has its own circumstances, and these two abandoned royal siblings have their reasons as well."
Selene said with interest, her crimson diamond-shaped pupils meeting the cautious gaze of Nunnally, who was observing her.
"Ah...."
Like a frightened little rabbit, Nunnally quickly looked away, her body trembling. Selene had no intention of putting any thought into her.
Still, a rare display of "fatherly compassion and filial piety" shouldn't be missed; she couldn't resist sneaking a peek.
In a way, Lelouch's relationship with his father, Charles—oh, actually, with all his ancestors—was an exercise in "dutiful son and compassionate father."
On Kamine Island, in his second confrontation with his father Charles at the Geass Ruins, Lelouch discovered the complete truth about his and Nunnally's abandonment by their parents through the Thought Elevator system of the ruins.
After realizing the selfishness, ignorance, and sheer madness of his parents, Lelouch killed them to prevent his blood parents from pursuing the past at the cost of severing the future.
After his patricidal rise to power, Lelouch went on to destroy all portraits, statues, and mausoleums of the past emperors of Britannia.
He basically desecrated his own family's graves.
Who knows if his ancestors were so enraged they'd flip their coffins over—the Britannian bloodline had produced such an ungrateful child.
Aside from Nunnally, it seemed Lelouch could abandon anything, and anyone, without hesitation.
For instance, the immediate reason behind his plan to destroy the Britannian Empire and enact the "Zero Requiem" was to create a lasting peace for his sister.
Of course, from Selene's perspective as an enemy of Britannia, this was all a delightful spectacle—it wasn't her family grave, so she could freely enjoy the show.
Reflecting on this, Selene proudly considered herself "merciful" by comparison.
A tiny version of herself, arms akimbo, stood in her mind. See, when I ascended the throne, I didn't assassinate a monarch, I didn't desecrate any family tombs, and I didn't strip titles from nobles or royals.... Am I not the very picture of a "benevolent" ruler?
Ah, and let's not forget to thank our old buddy Honest for the grand gift. (Honest: Thank you kindly for the dismemberment!)
"By the way, Budo, did you carry out the decapitation operation?" Selene asked, ending her internal monologue.
If Budo had already launched a decapitation strike with a space-jump attack, then when the Silent Sisters brought Lelouch to Pendragon, all they'd find would be corpses... where would be the entertainment in that? How could she enjoy the show?
"It was carried out, and yet not. In Mainland Britannia, North America, District 1, I have not yet deployed the Terminator squads, as I initially intended to demand their surrender."
Now that she had indulged in her temporary amusement on the road, it was time to address more pressing matters. Selene's tone became serious.
"Very well. Now, give me the data list of the Britannian prisoners your legion has captured so far."
Reaching the roof of a low building at Ashford Academy, half of which had been almost torn off by cannon fire, Selene narrowed her eyes, surveying the desolation that covered the city.
All the skyscrapers had been leveled, especially the 11th District's Governor-General's Office, which had once stood at the heart of Tokyo's concession area. It was now replaced by a desolate ruin of enormous rubble.
The former splendor and luxury were gone, leaving only blood and bone white.
"Your Majesty, here is the list of Britannian prisoners we have detained and registered so far." Taking the legion terminal from his adjutant, Budo respectfully presented it with both hands.
"Let me see if they can survive this war."
Although Selene had ordered them to minimize casualties among scientists and technical personnel, stray bullets knew no mercy, and accidents were inevitable.
Taking the thick, portable legion terminal engraved with the imperial double-headed eagle emblem, purple light shimmered from Selene's hand. "Synchronize, search."
Buzz, buzz—
The purple light turned to blue threads, and the terminal screen flashed at tens of thousands of frames per second, continuously accelerating.
Finally, a click—"Got it…."
"Lloyd Asplund; Nina Einstein; Rakshata Chawla...."
...
At the same time, on the other side of the world, the east coast of the Pacific Ocean, in the Holy Britannian Empire's capital, Pendragon.
Inside a luxurious palace decorated primarily in Baroque style with Rococo accents.
The officials seated within wore expressions of utmost gravity.
Or rather, of helplessness and despair.
Reports of defeats, surrenders, urgent appeals, and requests for aid flooded into the Empire's command center like snowflakes.
The brilliant crystal chandeliers, glinting with golden particles, could not dispel the shadows clouding their hearts, and a wave of despair grew unchecked in the room.
Before these officials was a 3D projection of a Britannian Empire map, marked with countless intersecting lines, with brown land and blue seas covering its surface.
To the naked eye, the Britannian Empire was visibly losing territory moment by moment. The invaders from the other world had breached the homeland, and they were powerless to resist… and had nowhere left to run!
If someone didn't break the silence soon, the air of gloom and dejection would have gone on indefinitely.
Finally, the man seated on the throne spoke slowly, his low, hoarse voice exuding an immovable sense of authority.
"Speak, my lords. Now is the time of life and death for the Empire. How should we preserve it and overcome this crisis?"
He was tall and imposing, dressed in luxurious and elaborate royal regalia. His waist-length silver hair was styled in the manner of a European medieval nobleman, looking like rows of silvery ringlets.
His name was Charles di Britannia, the ninety-eighth Emperor of the Britannian Empire, and Lelouch's biological father—a despot who firmly believed in militarism.
"Your Majesty, my suggestion is to surrender." Rising from his seat, a corpulent middle-aged noble governor spoke in a deep voice.
The old Emperor Charles remained seated, his tone as calm as ever. "Anyone else? Who else is of the same opinion as Lord Gregor?"
"Your Majesty, I oppose this. The Empire must never surrender. If we are to die, then let us die gloriously, tearing off their flesh as we fall!"
The Empire's First Princess, Guinevere do Britannia, spoke loudly with a look of firm resolve.
She had beautiful silver hair, a full figure, and thin lips painted in a shade of purple. Combined with the aristocratic pride unique to the royal family, she looked like a princess from an ancient, orthodox monarchy.
"And you, Schneizel?" Charles asked hoarsely, his face impassive.
Schneizel el Britannia, the Empire's Second Prince.
Schneizel, with his gentle manner and refined demeanor, was known as the "White Prince" and was the Empire's rising leader.
His short blond hair gleamed with nobility, his mild manner and pale violet eyes exuding calmness, and his perfectly poised leadership qualities inspired instant goodwill.
"Your Majesty, I believe we should surrender."
Schneizel, lacking any ambitions, held no attachment to any matter—not even to his own life.
Now, it was clear to anyone with eyes that the Empire's fortunes had waned. Why not exchange what bargaining chips they had left for more dignified terms?
Schneizel's statement shattered the silence, and the officials present all rushed to express their support for the Second Prince's decision.
But the military, led by the First Knight of the Round, were largely opposed. And so, the debate continued inconclusively. Yet, the old Emperor simply observed in silence, his thoughts unfathomable.
Suddenly, "Surrender?! You have no chance!"
"Who's there?" At once, Bismarck Waldstein, the First Knight of the Round, drew his sword and stood guard before Emperor Charles, shouting.
The guards launched an immediate attack at the black-uniformed youth who had appeared in the conference room.
But in the next moment—clank!
With a swift slash, a purple-red blade cleaved the oncoming guards, and several tall, golden-armored figures emerged from the shadows.
In an instant, most of the participants lay dead or wounded.
The silver blade sliced through the palace's opulent interior without even a spark, as effortlessly as slicing through butter. The palace swiftly crumbled, sending up layers of scattered debris.
Protected by a few loyal retainers, Charles fixed his fiery gaze on the black-haired, violet-eyed youth. "You are… Lelouch?"
"That's right, Father. Didn't expect you to still remember me, did you? I've crawled back from hell, for Mother, for Nunnally, to seek my revenge on you!"
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