Year 6 (Phase III) Results:
The Ashford Heiress & Co.: 61+10=71
Your visits with Milly this year are reminiscent of your childhood playing in the gardens of Aries Villa with her and Nunnally.
"Oh, Lulu~"
Perhaps a bit
too reminiscent, for that matter.
Milly plops down onto the sofa with little grace as she reclines. "I really do have to thank you and Nunnally for making time to visit Pendragon this year. I know how busy things must be with your work hunting pirates."
"Beyond having business in the capitol," you state, waving her off, "you're also a dear friend, Milly. I honestly should have made time last year to see you more often than just a few balls and parties."
Milly giggles. "Regardless, next time I'll come to you. I haven't gotten to see this island hideaway of yours and I have
badly wished for a vacation these past few years. Adulthood is so...
tedious, you know?"
You snort. "I suppose I do miss the days where all I looked forward to was the next chess game with Schneizel. Well, that and dreading the next time you would come knocking on my door with makeup and a dress."
The blonde laughs aloud at that. "Oh, listen to us! We're complaining as if we're already old and gray when I'm just barely nineteen!"
You shrug. "You're in training to take over one of the largest armor and weapons manufacturers in the Empire. I'd be surprised if you
didn't have anything to complain about."
Milly smiles, just a bit sadly. "Yeah, I suppose you're right."
You tilt your head slightly, sending her a curious look. "Is there something wrong, Milly?"
Your childhood friend sighs explosively. "Yes? No? Maybe, I guess."
You make a discreet motion to one of the staff and, a moment later, you're handing her a glass of fruit-flavored wine she prefers. Milly offers a distracted thanks and accepts the drink, looking down into the pink liquid as if it holds all of life's answers.
"I just-" Milly begins slowly, only to stop as Nunnally sweeps into the room.
"Sorry I'm late, brother, Milly! Did I-" She blinks, seeing your slightly annoyed expression and Milly's self-deprecating smile. "-ah, I suppose I
did miss something." Your little sister's shoulders slump slightly as she makes her way to Milly's other side. "What's wrong, Milly?"
"Oh, Nunna." Milly sighs, shaking her head. "It's nothing quite so dramatic. I'm just... feeling a bit melancholic, I suppose. Wondering if, well, if there's anything I'm supposed to be doing that my grandfather hasn't already
done? I kind of admire you two, you know? Making your own way, charting your own course, being given an opportunity to fight for a place to call your own."
You blink, unsure of what to say. "I hadn't known, Milly."
Milly snorts as Nunnally frowns. "It isn't anything so great as to be concerned over, Lelouch. My grandfather has already made up his mind that I am to inherit much of his holdings directly, with slices cut off for my parents so they will not be too terribly upset with the arrangement. It's just... I mean, I know the business. I'm even good at it, or at least the
people side of the business and there is plenty of staff to run numbers for me."
Your little sister nods slowly. "You just wonder if it's alright to settle for following in his footsteps."
Your eyebrows raise. "Nunnally?"
Nunnally sweeps a curtain of brown hair over one ear. "Oh, brother, you do not know everything there is to know of me." She giggles. "I thought long and hard over the matter of my oath to you, did you know?"
You whet your lips. "I had
hoped you'd given it some thought, but... I also did not want to dissuade you from doing something which you wished to. If you ever wish to be released from my service-"
"Oh no!" Nunnally waves you off. "I do not mean like that! It is just... I could do a great many things, you know? Clovis had offered me a place in one of his productions. Or perhaps brother Schneizel could find me a position in one of the ministries."
You force yourself to step back, mentally from the suddenness of these revelations, seeing them in stark contrast to your own life. The consideration that you could have handed off your duties to someone else isn't particularly earth-shattering, you've had the thought before, but you've never
seriously pondered it. Instead of fighting pirates in the south seas, you could perhaps find a place in a laboratory? Or you, yourself, could follow in Schneizel's footsteps.
"I hadn't considered it." You admit honestly, reaching to accept a cup of whiskey from a servant. Memories of fire, of ash and dust and death, float to the surface of your mind. The burn in your throat quenches them slightly. "I think part of me always knew there was but one path for me."
Nunnally smiles, a touch sadly as well. "I want to be like mother, I realized a year or two ago. That is what I want. I... can hardly imagine a life sitting quietly behind a desk somewhere, even trouncing around on stage telling the stories of
others... no, I've seen the plays about mother and father. I want them to tell
my story one day, like that."
Milly laughs suddenly, closing her eyes and shaking her hair from her face. "Oh dear, Lulu, it seems we have been bested by the youngest among us. Whatever shall we do?"
You grin. "Perhaps it is best we put aside such dour matters and, instead, have bathing costumes sent for. At least then the servants shan't give you stares when we doubtless end up taking amusements too far."
Milly stands, her arm thrust up in triumph and all hint of melancholy gone from her eyes. "A day by the lake! Splendid idea, Lulu! Onward!"
You pretend not to notice the look of immense gratitude Milly gives you as she chases Nunnally out the door, the younger girl's spirits rising from their serious bent as well.
Results: Milly's SL Progresses (+1), Nunnally's SL Progresses (+1), Millicent Ashford's Blues chased away for a time.
Cornelia li Britannia, fresh from the front lines in the Middle Eastern Federation, is truly a sight to behold. War, it seems, has been good for her. The years between your last extended meeting and this one have seen her add a few inches to her already-impressive height and more than a bit of muscle where it compliments her the most. Your first reaction is to apply the words 'dashing' and 'regal' to your sister, no matter that the former is usually exclusive to men.
Cornelia raises an eyebrow as she, likewise, takes you in, her expression unreadable as you are held to a standard you don't quite know the specifics of. Beside you, Jeanne is dressed impeccably. Not that she's usually given to slovenly behavior, but you've conveyed exactly how important this meeting might become and she responded by starching her uniform to within an inch of its life, her jacket proudly bearing the vi Britannia royal crest in a superior position to the Euro-Britannian flag. In concert with a knight's fourragère, it clearly declares the woman's station as being non-landed nobility without a notable bloodline, in service to your family.
Where Jeanne is at your side, Gilbert G.P. Guilford stands stiffly at Cornelia's. The man has the reputation of a consummate professional, though this is your first time meeting him. Dedicated and a passionate believer in both imperial doctrine and his princess' capabilities, he has been at her side through five major battles and counting, including
both conquests of Cairo.
Any one of you, you know, would rank highly on any guest list as some of the most impressive individuals of this generation's conquerers and military commanders. Perhaps Cornelia moreso than you, in sheer scope, but there are whispers of your own capabilities in court even now. However, the greater presence in the room precludes any of you from standing within your own light, instead cast deeply in the shadow of the final occupant.
Anastasia li Britannia, Third Consort-Empress of Charles zi Britannia.
Her hair is a darker shade of violet than Cornelia's own, almost black save for the colored sheen. Her clothing is a slightly odd mix of court apparel and military garb, only appropriate for someone who is both of and not of the military at the same time.
"Cornelia." Her smile as she nods towards her eldest is... not quite cold, but definitely cool. Motherly warmth behind her eyes is well hidden and would only be obvious to one who has grown up in her presence over many years. "Lelouch."
Perhaps only your mother has ever managed to convey so much gravity and seriousness with but only your name.
"Mother." Cornelia responds first, as is her due, bowing her head slightly before approaching the woman to embrace her shortly.
"Empress Anastasia." You bow, more deeply, as you approach.
The austere empress gives you a wintery smile and a single press of her hand on your arm, the touch of a beloved near-aunt to one of her surrogate children.
Then the moment passes.
"Euphemia will be delayed for some short while." Anastasia announces, moving to sit in one of the hardback chairs surrounding the intricately carved wooden table. "Until then, I believe we have matters to discuss. Lelouch, I was
initially against your proposal for Euphemia to, effectively, become your subordinate, but your mother and I have spoken at length on the subject. She pointed out a number of your achievements over the past years, including ones which did not reach the ears of court back home."
You nod slightly. "If I may ask, what in particular changed your mind?"
Anastasia chuckles throatily. "I suppose you may. Specifically, when I had been informed you'd raised a foreign-born girl, barely twenty, to the rank of admiral, even if it is somewhat
over-inflated an honor given your current force composition, I believed you to have made a serious misstep."
Cornelia's widened eyes and subsequent narrowed gaze tells you all you need to know about what she feels on that matter.
"Then." Anastasia stops and sips at her tea. "Marianne informed of her delightful sense of humor. Given what I've found out regarding the fleet in question, and that is little enough considering the state of the area, I believe she massacred over a thousand men on that beach. With their own ship-mounted guns, no less. All with a force of only one hundred." Cornelia
stills. "I would be remiss, though, in not considering the ships she downed and the crew on them as well. This Greta Romano of yours should have a total kill count in that battle exceeding five
thousand."
"Admittedly, Empress Anastasia, I was not the commander of that battle-" You begin humbly, only to have a raised hand cut you off.
"Which I know. It is more the fact that you promoted her that shows me your dedication to ideals which I personally hold dear." Anastasia smiles, here. "A person who rewards such skill in battle, despite the origins of the soldier themselves, is worth giving a chance."
Anastasia reclines her her chair, ever so slightly.
"So, tell me, Lelouch vi Britannia. What are your aims regarding my youngest?"
[ ][ElB] Diplomacy Advisor
[ ][ElB] Stewardship Advisor
The Third Empress nods without comment. "I see. And what of
your aims and goals, personally?"
[ ][LvB] You aim for the throne, of course, was there ever any other answer?
[ ][LvB] Australia, the whole of it, and it shall be beholden to you before anyone else.
[ ][LvB] The world is not big enough to contain your ambition.
One arched eyebrow is all the response your declaration receives. "Ambitious. Now, will you be taking Euphemia as your lover?"
You
force the tea down your throat with a herculean effort instead of spraying it violently over Anastasia li Britannia. Cornelia manages the same, though breaks out into a harsh choking fit, staining her face crimson with a flush of blood. The less said about Guilford and Jeanne's expressions, the better.
"Mother!" The Second Princess cries with a hoarse voice as she turns on her mother.
"Daughter." Anastasia responds, lightly. "Do not be uncouth, child."
[ ][SIS] Well, yes, of course.
[ ][SIS] No you won't.
*Eh, sure, one hour moratorium. DO NOT VOTE FOR ONE HOUR.
**FYI: Euphie, at this point, has turned 18 years of age and, as such, has passed the RL age of majority for the record. Regardless of the vote, there will be no NSFW content posted on Sufficient Velocity.