"[Bionic Prosthetics]… eh? You're personally serving as director of the medical prosthetics project? Or even as chief engineer? Vee, when did you take an interest in bionics?"
"I always have, Mother. On the battlefield, bullets have no eyes. Too many Britannian soldiers are forced to retire with broken bodies. As their sovereign, as the one who issued the orders that sent them to war, I cannot ignore their pain. Developing medical prosthetics is simply a way to better save their lives—so that even after severe injury, they can still live and work normally."
Hearing Vela's explanation, Princess Consort Victoria Adelheid gave a gentle smile.
"How kind you are, Vee."
Watching her daughter spear a piece of grilled ribeye and chatter as she stuffed it into her mouth, her clear indigo eyes blinking with an almost childlike cuteness, the mother's brow revealed unmistakable relief.
Resting her chin in her hand, she simply watched her daughter, home at last, relaxed and eating heartily.
Victoria adored this feeling of ease, tinged with joy.
Like when someone very close to you reveals their dependence and defenselessness—knowing you will never despise them for being unguarded or unruly. In your presence, they can set aside the princess' poise, indulge in a little mischief, a little playfulness.
In the brightly lit dining hall of Camelot Palace, attendants in uniform moved quietly along both sides of the long table.
Since tonight was no grand court banquet, only a private meal between consort and princess—and with the consort herself in high spirits, even cooking personally—the dishes were not lavish.
Large plates, small portions, French in style.
Cold plates: Bavarian weisswurst, Black Forest ham, Italian vegetable-seafood salad. Soups: Russian borscht, cream of mushroom. Main courses: diced ribeye steak, Texas-style smoked short ribs, classic spaghetti, Spanish seafood paella. Sauces to taste. On the side, small desserts and ice cream.
The pasta and paella, Victoria had cooked herself.
It looked like a lot, but after so many years, everyone knew—Vela had always grown tall and strong quickly, a hearty appetite that never showed on her frame. Among Britannia's royals, her large appetite was well known.
For her, tonight's feast was just an ordinary meal.
"Sigh…"
The so-called yasashii Vela gave a helpless chuckle.
"I hardly deserve it, Mother. For people like us, 'kindness' seems more like an insult. If I were truly kind, I should be like Euphy—reining in my thirst for battle."
With that, she forked another piece of steak.
Juices and hemoglobin squeezed from the cut, mingling with black pepper sauce. Vela bit down, cheeks bulging as she chewed. Swallowing, she grabbed the chilled apple cider beside her, took a long swig, then shook her head and sighed: "It's nothing more than maintaining the army's fighting strength, reducing losses, ensuring veterans' survival rates… and, incidentally, earning myself a good reputation."
"Borrowing the words of the Breisgau traitors in their speeches after fleeing to the E.U.—all our benevolence is only for the sake of better rule…"
"Judge by deeds, not by hearts."
Pushing a plate of Texas smoked ribs before her daughter, Victoria smiled, scooped up a spoonful of borscht, and—"ahh~"—quickly and deftly pressed it to Vela's soft lips, signaling the topic was finished. She then took a napkin and gently wiped her daughter's mouth.
"Politics and war are filthy things. To fulfill one's grand vision, sacrifice is inevitable. But as Augusta, the one who decides, you must balance favor and punishment, flexibly wielding both faces according to circumstance. Only then can governance reach its best effect."
"In this, you far surpass your uncle and those other brutes who know nothing but steel and gunpowder. They turned the civil cabinet into a council of generals bristling with bayonets. A lord's chief duty is to command in war—but to be a great sovereign, command in war is not the only duty."
"Even your father, who seeks to dominate the world, to look down on all nations—after his coronation, he too faced the [Emblem of Blood Rebellion]…"
Victoria did not speak in the tone of commands, telling Vela what she must do. Instead, she drew upon her own experience, the theory of enlightened rulership passed down after the [Napoleonic Revolution of Europe] had scarred their family, and Emperor Charles' own living example. With gentle persuasion, she helped Vela shape and refine her thoughts.
Forking up a serving of refreshing vegetable salad, Vela chewed thoughtfully and nodded.
A governance style akin to the Way of the Overlord, but tempered.
Back to the main subject—when mother and daughter brought the conversation back to [Bionic Prosthetics], casually discussing the project's prospects—the night beyond Camelot Palace remained calm and warm.
Moonlight washed the world.
Silver beams splashed across the palace's crystalline walls, scattering soft and cool radiance.
Ornate lamps were set neatly throughout the courtyards, shadows stretching long between pillars and steps. At some point, among those shadows, a figure had appeared.
"One of Charles' finest offspring, is it?"
A child with pale golden hair stepped forward.
Though his face looked tender, no more than ten years old, his hair fell long and smooth, nearly to the ground.
Clad in a finely tailored robe and cloak marked with Britannia's royal crest, every detail immaculate—yet together, the image was oddly unsettling.
Half his body bathed in Camelot's soft glow, he lifted his head. From beneath the shadowed rim of a pavilion roof, his deep violet eyes gazed silently into the hall, their light obscure and unfathomable.
"To retake Europe, to restore family glory, to dream of unifying the globe, to vie for the throne… all fine, but no more than mortal wisdom. Only by slaying gods can one build a truly unified world without lies…"
So he murmured, shifting his gaze to the chalk-white avenue beyond the palace's gilded gates.
"Since Marianne and her two accursed children were lost, the Third Princess should be the strongest in Geass potential among Charles' progeny."
"Vela… within her Euro Britannia Four Knights of Order lies a Geass-compatible candidate, does it not? If she can perceive and deal with that candidate, even glimpse a fragment of the world's truth… then perhaps she may be accepted among us. She could be a force in Charles' conquest of the surface world. A token of… compensation for my brother's 'lies.'"
Buzz… buzz…
Down the chalk avenue came the royal procession: leading cars, escort vehicles, court-custom Knightmare Frames, palace guards, and carriages bearing the crown insignia and the First Knight of the Round's crest.
Emperor Charles arrived in full splendor.
Meanwhile, in the dining hall of Camelot Palace—
"…During my tenure as supreme civil and military governor of Euro Britannia, I devoted hundreds of hours of spare time to studying anatomy, microanatomy, biochemistry, physiology, and robotics. I found that the Empire does indeed possess technology for cybernetic body modification and reducing prosthetic rejection—mature technology, in fact. The only issue is that it cannot yet be made affordable for the masses."
Vela spoke slowly, listing her plans.
It was the truth.
Even without awakening her [Divine Gift], even without the cybernetic knowledge of Arasaka, of GSG9, of Section 9 engraved in her mind, it was as if fate itself drew her to bionics. When choosing a personal secondary field, she naturally gravitated to prosthetics.
She remembered well: Jeremiah Gottwald, the Pureblood leader of Area 11 and unlucky victim of the Orange Incident, later transformed into a cyborg.
If such technology could be made cheap and widespread—especially among career soldiers and military nobles—the prestige and support Vela would win as its advocate would be immense. And among the common folk, no less.
"The Eastern European front has already served as a pilot zone, with medical implants tested for several years. Results have been significant, feedback positive. My goal now is this: within a year, to bring mature, affordable prosthetics to every Imperial citizen. By then, the Empire will have no disabled people."
Clap, clap.
"No wonder the Grand Duke of Velaines and the Euro Britannia Noble Council praise you as the 'Goddess with the Lamp.' Mother fully supports you, Vee!"
Victoria applauded.
Just as Cornelia was called the 'Witch of Britannia,' and Schneizel the 'White Prince,' 'Goddess with the Lamp' was the epithet the outside world had given Vela—because the reforms she pushed had saved countless Britannian soldiers.
Of course, to the E.U., Vela was nothing but a tsarist black vulture.
As Victoria shifted the conversation to Area 11, asking Vela for details about deploying Honorary Britannians from Area 11 to clash head-on with the E.U.—
Tap, tap.
The sound grew louder, hurried footsteps drawing near.
"Your Highness Consort, Your Highness Princess—it is His Majesty."
An attendant reported, visibly flustered.
"His Majesty?!"
At once, Victoria rose to her feet.
"Vee, come with me to greet him."
Abandoning their meal, Vela followed her mother out of the dining hall, through the corridor. Just as they reached the grand staircase of the front hall, they saw Emperor Charles ascending step by step along the richly carpeted red silk stairway.
"Your Majesty."
Victoria curtsied, lifting her gown.
"Father."
Vela snapped a military salute.
In truth, she was a little puzzled. At this late hour? Odd. Her mother was already past forty—hadn't Charles always favored the young? For years now, he had only given her more stepmothers and new siblings.
"My most exceptional daughter—"
And with that, Vela understood immediately.
Here comes the sweet talk, the promises that never land…
...
The next day.
Area 11.
Tokyo Settlement.
Governor's Palace.
Cornelia narrowed her sharp eyes at the near-Level One administrative order displayed on the terminal's UI.
At her side, Euphemia still looked stunned, her lips trembling: "Why so sudden… Suzaku, and all the Japanese Honorary Britannians of the 11th Army—they're to be transferred to the Eastern European front? But he only just cleared his name from brother Clovis' assassination…"
"Euphie, don't be willful."
Cornelia cast her sister a deep look. "This was Vela's will."
Meanwhile, at Ashford Academy, Suzaku Kururugi—having only recently re-enrolled, reunited with childhood friends, and begun to settle in with classmates—received his military reassignment orders.