It had been a year since Lelouch Lamperouge had taken full control over Area Eleven. The palace of the governor, once a symbol of ceremonial pomp, had become a sanctuary of absolute control. The corridors, the salons, even the servants' quarters—all were infused with quiet obedience. Every smile, every deferential bow, every casual greeting carried an undercurrent of the Geass. This is why Lelouch dared to come live here with his sister, without the risk of the information leaking.
Lelouch strolled along the balcony of the palace, his hands clasped behind his back. The sunlight painted the courtyard in gold, glinting off fountains and marble tiles, but it was the order beneath that light which brought him satisfaction. The gardeners, the administrative staff, the knights stationed as ceremonial guards—they all moved with precision, performing their duties flawlessly, guided by an unseen will. His own will.
In just one year, the transformation of Area Eleven had been remarkable. The economic growth was unprecedented. Freed from archaic restrictions, Elevens had embraced the opportunities offered by the new laws. Businesses expanded aggressively, building factories, opening shops, and taking advantage of new markets previously reserved for Britannians. The reconstruction projects had opened employment to locals, infused the districts with energy, and rebuilt infrastructure faster than anyone had predicted. Roads, railways, communications—every sector pulsed with the energy of a population that had been granted not only opportunity but incentive.
In new labs specifically designed for her, Nina Einstein oversaw the Project Fleya. What had begun as an ambitious experiment in energy systems and advanced engineering had blossomed into something far more intricate. Her Geass-enhanced mind moved faster than any other, analyzing, calculating, and anticipating. Complex formulas which once took hours were now resolved in minutes, designs refined before a sketch could even dry. Fleya was far from complete—there were still bottlenecks in both power regulation and materials—but progress was undeniable.
Meanwhile, Knightmare development had reached levels previously thought impossible. Count Lloyd Asplund and Rakshata Chawla had combined their expertise, guided subtly by Lelouch's oversight. Knightmares had grown faster, smarter, more adaptive. The flying Knightmare technology had long been developed; Knightmare using this technology would soon be put on mass production. As for the Lancelot and the Guren—using them, Suzaku and Kallen were easily at the level of Knight of Round.
Lelouch had also started to plant seeds for the future. Ideas from his previous world—smartphones, advanced communication networks, artificial intelligence—had begun to take root. Prototypes had been developed; small, fragile, imperfect devices that would someday become ubiquitous. The foundations were being laid now, quietly, so that in a few years the technological leap would appear sudden to the rest of the Empire.
In this year, his influence also grown a lot. He had used the Geass on nobles of the mainland to ensure economic cooperation, on scientists to accelerate research, on military personnel—including every pilot of advanced Knightmares—to guarantee absolute efficiency. Even intelligence agents—Eleven, Britannian, and Chinese alike—had been placed under subtle control to provide uninterrupted surveillance and reporting. The network of obedience was vast, intricate, and invisible.
Yet in this expansion, Lelouch had to tread carefully. Unlike Area Eleven, where Clovis had masked his manipulations, the rest of the Empire would notice the pattern of one man appearing in noble salons, issuing instructions, and bending wills. Detection would be immediate. In this broader theatre, his personal movements had to remain subtle. He could no longer rely on a single puppet prince; instead, he had to spread influence through proxies, subordinates, and carefully placed Geass contracts.
CC had been essential. On his orders, she had granted the Geass to a multitude of key figures. Scientists across disciplines received it to enhance focus, creativity, and problem-solving ability. Knightmare pilots obtained variations tailored to their combat style—reflex enhancement, predictive trajectory analysis, instinctive adaptation. Administrators, corporate executives, regional overseers—all received Geass commands suited to their responsibilities. Over the months, the cumulative effect transformed Area Eleven into a hive of efficiency, loyalty, and silent obedience.
And yet, all of this had come at a cost. After using the Geass so many times, it has become permanent. A careless glance, a casual word, could bend the will of someone in proximity. To prevent accidental domination or harm, Lelouch was forced to use Geass even over those closest to him. Shirley, for example, had received a command to never lose the love she held for him, that way Lelouch would not harm her personality by an unwanted order. After being told of his secret identity, and with guidance from Kallen and Nina, Shirley had agreed to him having other relationships, "As long as he didn't forget about her." Not that he planned to anyways.
Milly, too, had become entwined in this web. Lelouch has used his Geass on her, and she now has joined his harem. With Lelouch's help, Milly had become the lead journalist for a major TV network. With her Geass, she could make people instinctively trust her, and in no time, she had gained considerable influence over public opinion.
Even in the palace itself, life moved according to his design. Every guard, every servant, every administrative clerk operated under a hidden influence. He could walk through the halls at any hour, unquestioned. He could oversee projects, redirect resources, or eliminate obstacles without raising suspicion. He had become invisible governor.
And yet, Lelouch found moments of quiet satisfaction. Mornings with Shirley, afternoons consulting with Nina or observing Kallen's training routines, evenings reviewing Knightmare prototypes with Loyd and Rakshata—these interludes reminded him that the world he had built was alive, responsive, and malleable. Fleya's armement project advanced daily; Knightmares adapted faster than ever; new industries opened doors to Elevens who would once have been denied. The Area's foundations were shifting—quietly, irrevocably.
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The conference room was bright, the polished table reflecting the morning sunlight. Lelouch sat at the head, relaxed yet alert, fingers steepled. Around him, the regional administrators of Area Eleven presented their reports with a mix of pride and deference.
"Your Highness," one began, "the reconstruction is proceeding ahead of schedule. Employment rates among Elevens have doubled since last year, and businesses report unprecedented growth. Industrial output is up thirty-two percent compared to projections, and the new infrastructure projects are nearly complete."
Another added, "The final pockets of rebel activity have been eliminated. Those who evaded the initial purge were either captured or neutralized. We now have full control over previously contested districts. No organized resistance remains, and civilian morale has increased significantly. The elevated trade permissions granted to local Elevens have also fostered goodwill, minimizing any risk of foreign interference"
A third administrator chimed in, "Additionally, the diplomatic incident with the Chinese delegation has been resolved. Our measures have ensured compliance with Empire protocols, and relations are now stables."
Lelouch allowed himself a small, cold smile. He recalled the moment Mao had been discovered in Area Eleven—the rebel had been swiftly eliminated, yet his death had triggered an international uproar. What an idiot, he mused quietly, suppressing a brief chuckle. Thinking he could steal C.C. from me.
"However," the first administrator continued, "Surveillance within the Empire itself has been intensified. We are detecting an increasing number of spies from the mainland and other areas attempting infiltration. Our intelligence networks are stronger than ever, and we are now capable of anticipating threats before they materialize."
Lelouch's eyes narrowed slightly. The Emperor's vigilance had clearly grown. Predictable, he thought. The Empire had become careful about all the changes happening here, and caution would now be required.
He leaned back in his chair, letting the room settle into silence. Every administrator waited for his command, aware of the weight of his gaze. The web of control is complete in Area Eleven, he reflected, but now, the real game begins. The pieces beyond these islands—the Empire itself—are ready for the first move.
Rising smoothly, Lelouch folded his hands behind his back. "Very well," he said, his voice calm but carrying absolute authority. "It's time to start the next phase of the plan. Instruct the pawn we've placed in the capital to be ready to act. The Emperor will never anticipate what is coming, and when he does, it will be too late."