Code Geass: Hail to the King

Disclaimer: I do not own Code Geass.

Kilnorc: -scratches neck- I'm aware that I have the habit of starting new things while other fics are being written, and I've made excuses in the past, but this one is going to be SHORT and is only being written due to the fact that while I have trouble with my other fanfics, I'm doing this out of love of Code Geass and the fact that I'm taking it slowly on my CotA series updates.


"...riots all over Area 11 have-,"


"The Elevens resent all of us for-,"


"The Viceroy has-,"

Screw this...


Sighing, the young man in front of the television rose from one of the chairs in the breakroom and walked to the restroom. He stood in front of one of the many mirrors and looked at himself, his mind filled with questions. Slowly, he reached up and unbuttoned the top of his Britannian military uniform. Placing the article of clothing on the sink, he looked at himself in the mirror again, noticing a disturbing amount of scars that dotted his body. These scars he earned from battles he had gone into against rebels from Area 11 time and time again, and they ranged from knife or sword injuries, to bullet holes and even burns from explosions or fires. How he managed to get wounds like that and lived amazed not only him, but his comrades. Hell, they were even amazed he still went into battles with past experiences like that.

Christopher Maxwell, soldier of the Holy Britannian Empire and Knightmare pilot, was no one special. He was just a Britannian soldier stationed in Area 11, which was once known as Japan before Britannia invaded and conquered it. He wore the uniform, he piloted a Knightmare, he went into battle, he tried to keep the peace, just like the rest of the military. The only difference between him and most Britannians was the fact that he didn't have any resentment or anger towards the Elevens, as the Japanese were known now. Many other Britannians, soldier and civilian alike, looked down on the Elevens, and treated them like second-class citizens.

Christopher wasn't like that, not at all. He felt bad for what the Holy Empire had done to these people, but everytime he showed compassion or spoke his mind, he was mocked or even put to menial labor duties from the higher ups. There were rumors spreading through the ranks that he would soon turn against the Holy Empire, and probably executed for doing so, but so far...nothing. What was so wrong with feeling for the Elevens? Just because they're part of the Holy Empire now, that doesn't give anyone the right to treat them like they do. Because of his beliefs, Christopher not only suffered nasty things from fellow Britannians, but he endured suffering on the battlefield.

His way of thinking, and his feelings for the Elevens gave him a way of fighting that hardly anyone else had. Yes, he drove a Knightmare unit, like a lot of soldiers, and yes he has killed enemies, but he never really wanted to kill anyone, to be honest. Whenever a battle comes around, whether it be against rebels from Area 11, or rebels from any other Area in the past, his beliefs drove him to showing not only mercy, but compassion for his enemies. He never killed them right away, he always did his best to render them unable to fight, or have them surrender peacefully, and it was for those actions that gave him most, if not all his battle scars.

As he stared at himself in the mirror, he heard the restroom door slide open, followed by a couple of voices.

"Well, well, look at what we have here," another soldier came into sight from behind, a grin on his face, "Maxwell the Pacifist,"

"I thought we were calling him Maxwell the Pussy?" a second soldier sneered, smacking Christopher upside the head, "What's going on, Maxwell, thinking of finally defecting from the Empire?"

Christopher growled and shoved the two soldiers away from him, "No, I'm not, I'm just admiring my self because I'm drop dead gorgeous to the ladies," he muttered, grabbing his discarded uniform piece and pulling it on, "What are you two doing, Albert? You and Kenneth thinking of doing each other in the bathroom?"

"Why you-!"

"You're dead, Maxwell!"

"Looks like you're going to have another one to add to your collection, soldier,"

Christopher remained silent as he sat on an empty bed in the infirmary, one of the nurses wrapping gauze around his head, pinning a thick pad to his forehead where a fresh cut was already drying. After his remark to the other soldiers in the restroom, he soon found himself in a fist fight, as well as one of the mirrors. The one who called him a pussy, Albert, grabbed him by the head and rammed his head into said mirror, shattering it and giving him a large gash. That was the only real shot the two of them got on him, besides a kick to the stomach, because soon afterward he had made sure that they wouldn't attack him for a stupid remark again. After taking care of them, he simply walked out of the restroom and headed for the infirmary, earning stares and gasps as blood dribbled down his face and neck, staining his uniform.

The nurse shook her head, "Pretty soon, you're not going to have a single piece of flesh that doesn't have an injury," she smiled, "You're a handsome guy, you shouldn't ruin your looks. You won't get any lady friends like that,"

Christopher scoffed, "I heard chicks liked scars," he chuckled, "Thanks for the patchwork, I appreciate you taking time out to help me,"

"It's my job, I have to do it," the nurse finished wrapping him up, "Okay, all done. Now, I want you to take it easy, alright? From the examination, you didn't seem to suffer any damage other than the cut, but don't overexert yourself, you don't know what will happen. Just take it easy for a day, that's all I ask. Twenty-four hours of nothing but relaxation. That means no Knightmare runs,"

"Heh, thanks," Christopher hopped off the bed, gave a small wave and headed out, draping his uniform's jacket over his shoulder, "She shouldn't worry about me, anyway, it's the two jackasses on the bathroom floor that she needs to worry about,"

Following the nurse's advice, Christopher headed home to his apartment in one of the better places of Area 11, taking a personal day off to make sure he didn't just drop dead because he didn't listen to her advice. That actually seemed like a good piece of advice now, since his head was starting to ache again. Wincing, Christopher sat down into one of the more comfortable chairs in his home and turned on the TV.



Bad movie...


After going through just about every channel on the TV, Christopher passed out, which was probably more dangerous to do than going into battle with his head injury. Thankfully, hours later, he woke up to the sound of his phone ringing like crazy. Yawning, he rubbed his eyes and felt around for the phone nearby. He felt it between his fingers and clicked a button, holding it to his ear, "Hello?"

"WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?!" an angry voice screamed from the other end.

Christopher winced and pulled the phone away from his now ringing ear a bit, "What the...?" he brought the phone back, still rubbing his eyes, "What's going on? Who is this?"

"Who is this? WHO IS THIS?!" the voice got louder, "This is Wes, you dumbass! Where the hell are you, Maxwell?!"

Wes? Oh shit, one of the guys from my group! Christopher closed his eyes, laying his head back, "I'm at home, Wes. I got into a fight and hit my head, I took a personal day off. Why, what's going on?"


"Wes, please, I'm not in the mood for crap, just tell me-,"


"Alright, alright!" Christopher snapped before opening his eyes, now looking around for the TV remote, "Geez, a guy gets hurt and takes some time off to heal, and he gets a phone call from a lunatic,"

"I heard that!"

"Sorry, I didn't realize the phone was still attached to my head," Christopher muttered, finally finding the remote and clicking on the TV, "What channel, Wes?"

"Any channel! Just pick one!"

"Really? So, if I go to that bunny girl channel you tell me about so much, I'll just find what you're talking about?"

"Any channel but that, moron,"

Fine,, this better be worth getting woken up and yelled at! Christopher growled mentally as he came across a news channel. He expected a normal news broadcast, with anchors behind a desk, but instead there seemed to be a press conference of sorts, with a large group of people in uniform standing behind a podium and a man standing in front of that group. He wore a military uniform that was different from the rest, something that made him look like a Britannian noble, but Christopher knew he wasn't. He didn't know him personally, but he had seen pictures and videos of him in the past.

"Jeremiah? What's he doing on TV?"

"Prince Clovis has been taken from us! He fought for Peace and Justice, against all of the Elevens, and he died a Martyr! We must bury our sorrow and carry on his will!"

Christopher stared, his eyes wide, "The dead?"

The TV screen changed from the press conference to a small group of armed soldiers. In the middle of the group were two soldiers, and they were holding onto a young man, just a kid really, in white.

"Wes...isn't that-?"

"Private Suzaku Kururugi, one of the Elevens turned Honorary Britannians," Wes growled on the other end, "That damned Eleven bastard killed the Viceroy in cold blood! It happened after the gas incident on the Elevens in the Ghetto,"

Gas attack? In the Ghetto? Christopher frowned, "Wes, what the hell are you talking about?"

"What am I-? Where the hell have you been, Maxwell?!"

"I've been home, passed out in a chair for hours! What's going on, Wes?!"

"You better get back down here, Maxwell, people are starting to go apeshit, some of them are even thinking of just going off and killing Elevens because of this,"

"They can't do that, there's no just cause! Besides, if Kururugi did it, why go after the others?"

"Because an Eleven is an Eleven, no matter what to a lot of the people of the Empire, you and I both know that. To tell the truth, I was about to go out and do some skull crushing of my own, but the higher ups want us to remain as calm as possible and try to keep the peace, that's why you need to get down here!"

"Alright, alright," Christopher sighed and rubbed his eyes, "I'll be down there as soon as possible," he hung up his phone and looked back at the TV.

Man, some serious shit has just hit the fan. I get the feeling that even if Kururugi gets executed for the Viceroy's murder, that won't make things any better. This is just the tip of the iceberg!