The rendezvous point lay far beyond the outer districts of Pendragon, deep within a dense forest rarely patrolled by the capital's regular forces. Towering trees swallowed the moonlight, their branches weaving a canopy that turned the night into a shifting mass of shadow. The ground was uneven, roots twisting through fallen leaves, the air thick with damp earth and silence.
It was isolated. Concealed. Tactically convenient.
Guinevere arrived first, her long cloak brushing against low branches as she advanced. A small unit of armed soldiers followed at her side, disciplined and silent.
Clovis emerged soon after from between the trees opposite her, escorted by a modest detachment of royal guards. Portable lamps cast narrow beams through the darkness, illuminating only fragments of trunks and undergrowth. The forest felt watchful.
Guinevere appeared calm.
Hidden deeper within the forest, positioned behind natural embankments and partially concealed by camouflage netting, a group of Knightmares waited in standby mode. Their massive frames crouched low among the trees, thermal signatures suppressed. Among them stood one of her most loyal supporters: the Knight of Eleven.
At her signal, they would advance through the forest and surround the clearing within seconds.
No official record existed of this meeting. No aides. No council observers.
If Clovis disappeared tonight, the forest would keep its secrets.
"Prince Clovis," Guinevere greeted smoothly as they stopped several meters apart. "I trust your journey was uneventful."
"My dear sister," Clovis replied with a courteous incline of his head. "Discretion was… essential."
"Especially now," she said. "Father's death has left the Empire fragile. Appearances must be controlled."
"Agreed," Clovis answered. "Division would invite weakness."
They began to circle slowly within the clearing, boots crushing leaves beneath them. Their guards remained tense but distant.
"You claim to support my ascension," Guinevere said. "That is not a trivial declaration."
"I am practical," Clovis replied. "Schneizel and Cornelia are abroad. The others lack cohesion. You are decisive."
"And what," she asked coolly, "do you expect in return?"
"Influence. Continued governance of Area Eleven. Stability."
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"Area Eleven has prospered unexpectedly under your administration," she observed. "Almost… improbably."
"Peace yields productivity," Clovis said calmly.
She gave a faint, dismissive smile. "Peace is a luxury, not a principle."
A pause.
"Unfortunately," she continued, her voice hardening, "I cannot afford uncertainty."
Her hand lifted.
The forest erupted.
Branches snapped as Knightmares surged forward from concealment, massive metal frames crushing undergrowth beneath armored feet. Searchlights ignited, slicing through the darkness. Within moments, the Knightmares encircled Clovis, rifles lowering with mechanical precision.
The Knight of Eleven stepped forward in his Knightmare, the targeting reticle glowing red over Clovis's chest. His unit was the only one equipped with a flight system, its wings folded but ready to deploy.
Guinevere allowed herself a measured smile.
"No one knows we are here," she said. "With you in my custody, I can ensure control over the Empire's primary source of sakuradite. Don't blame me—that is simply how the struggle for the throne works. Only your own foolishness is to blame."
Clovis's guards stiffened, clearly outmatched.
But Clovis did not flinch.
"You always preferred direct solutions," he said lightly.
"This is strength," she replied.
"No," Clovis answered. "This is impatience."
She frowned.
"Why," he continued softly, "do you think they are still aiming at me?"
Her expression sharpened.
"Because I ordered it."
"Did you?"
A breath of silence passed through the trees.
Then—
The Knightmares moved.
Massive rifles rotated.
Targeting systems shifted.
Red laser sights left Clovis's chest—
—and settled on Guinevere.
Her breath caught.
"What are you doing?" she snapped into her communicator. "Knight of Eleven, correct your aim immediately!"
No response.
The forest seemed to grow colder.
Her soldiers hesitated.
Then a slow, deliberate clap echoed from above.
Guinevere looked up sharply.
On a thick tree branch overlooking the clearing stood a lone figure, partially illuminated by the Knightmares' lights. Dark attire. Composed posture.
An eyepatch covered his left eye.
Recognition struck her like a physical blow.
"…Impossible."
The figure descended lightly from the branch, landing soundlessly on the forest floor.
"Good evening, Princess Guinevere."
Her face drained of color.
"Lelouch?" she whispered.
She had believed him dead.
"You were executed," she said sharply. "I saw the official reports."
"And yet," he replied smoothly, "the reports were inaccurate."
Her mind raced.
"How did you locate my Knightmares?" she demanded. "This sector was chosen precisely because it lies outside standard patrol routes."
Lelouch gestured toward the surrounding terrain.
"There are only two elevated ridgelines within rapid deployment distance that allow heavy frames to approach a clearing of this size without detection. This is the only one shielded from satellite sweeps due to the density of the canopy."
He smiled faintly.
"You chose the only viable position."
Her jaw tightened.
"And the Knightmares?"
"Temporarily neutralized."
Her eyes widened.
"A Gefjun Disturber was planted beneath the western ridge hours ago," Lelouch continued. "A device developed by Rakshata Chawla. It disrupts the sakuradite's internal energy flow and interferes with the mechanical and computational systems of a Knightmare Frame. Once activated, your pilots lost operational control."
The Knight of Eleven's frame twitched faintly, as if confirming the claim.
Guinevere steadied her breathing.
"That does not explain," she said carefully, "why my soldiers have turned against me."
Her own men now aimed their rifles at her.
Unwavering.
She looked at Lelouch again, suspicion crystallizing.
"…What have you done?"
Lelouch stepped closer, expression serene.
"You asked how I accomplished this."
His hand rose to his eyepatch.
"Very well."
For the first time that night, genuine fear flickered in Guinevere's eyes.
Lelouch's fingers slipped beneath the fabric.
"You will see for yourself."
And he removed it.
---------------------------------------------------------
The room was quiet, the walls of Clovis' palace reflecting the pale afternoon light. Guinevere sat opposite Lelouch, her posture composed, her expression calm—betraying none of the fact that her will now belonged to him.
Her voice was steady.
"The capital is a web of minor ambitions," she said. "Most princes are satisfied with titles and privileges. Only a handful pose real threats."
Lelouch listened intently.
"Schneizel is far away, preparing his campaign against the Euro Universe. Cornelia commands the front lines in the Middle East. Eudisseus is inept, but he retains the support of the Empress' faction. Carine also commands a powerful political bloc."
Lelouch's golden eye narrowed.
"Then the only true danger is Schneizel. The others can be managed… or neutralized."
He allowed a brief pause.
"My plan is simple. We take control of the capital in secrecy. Then we lure Schneizel back. He will believe he is confronting minor political resistance. At that moment, we either eliminate him—or place him under my control."
Guinevere spoke evenly. "And you prepared for this?"
"Of course. I anticipated the Emperor's assassination. I arrived with the elite units of Zone Eleven. They are already positioned for rapid deployment."
Guinevere tilted her head slightly. "And the nobles who might oppose you?"
"To control the capital, we must first control those who hold influence," Lelouch replied, steepling his fingers. "We will rally the secondary princes and lesser nobles. We will bind them with promises of advancement. And once they are within reach… I will personally ensure their loyalty."
Had the Emperor still been alive, Lelouch would never have attempted something so bold. Too many powerful figures would have sensed the irregularities. Too many eyes would have been watching.
But now, with the capital fractured by the struggle for the throne, he had been handed an extraordinary opportunity.
He leaned back slightly, a faint smile touching his lips.
"I have already secured Lila—Clovis' sister—and their mother. The foundation is in place. From here, the rest will follow."
By the time Schneizel returned, the capital would already belong to him—not openly, but completely.
Every decision.
Every faction.
Every secret.
A heavy silence filled the room.
Lelouch stood, his shadow stretching across the polished floor.
"Prepare the communications," he instructed. "We proceed carefully. Every step must be precise. Every ally must be positioned before our first visible move."
Guinevere inclined her head.
"As you command."
And in that quiet chamber, the silent conquest of Britannia truly began.