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"Miss Alstreim."The fifteen-year-old Anya looked up from her blog to the class president, remaining indifferent under the girl’s irritated expression. She was silent as she waited for the president to continue, unmindful of the latter’s growing impatience."Mr. Gottwald wishes to speak with you," the president said, clearly frustrated by her apparent lack of interest. "He says it's urgent."Anya stared at her for a moment or two before turning back to her blog, looking very casual about it. "Tell him I'm busy," she briefly said.The president frowned. "He's been asking for you for the last seven days, Miss Alstreim," she said sharply. "Please do me a favor and attend Britannian History, or just see him in his office pronto. Frankly, I have better things to do than act as a messenger to either of you.”The seventeen-year-old Gino Weinberg gave a little shake of his head as he watched the class president stomp off. "I don’t think she’s very fond of you," he said, unsurprised to find that Anya wasn’t even paying attention. He lay down on the grass, crossing his arms under his head as he stared up at their favorite tree. "Not that you care.” "No."Gino laughed at her blunt answer. "I don't know if you know, but Jeremiah has been asking for you since he returned from his sudden vacation.”Anya didn't even look up from what she was doing. "Huh," she deadpanned. At least she was making an effort to sound like she was interested.He nodded. "Uh-huh. Apparently he's pretty concerned by your frequent absences and what that can do to your academic standing." He snickered, remembering the impressive earnestness that emanated from Jeremiah Gottwald during lectures. "But that doesn’t really matter, does it?""…"Gino rolled over to his side, turning away from Anya to look over the beautiful Ashford landscape. He’d gotten used to talking to himself over the last several years. "It must be strange for the other students to have him around, don’t you think? To have an ex-Margrave as a teacher, I mean. Especially if you know how many he’s killed in the battlefield.”It had been over a year since Jeremiah Gottwald left the Britannian Army following his humiliation by the masked hero of the Elevens. The fallen Margrave had been declared dead during the Battle of Narita, only to surprise everyone when he showed up in Ashford Academy several months later, where he assumed the position of a Britannian History teacher.Gino highly doubted that the man would settle for anything less than the battlefield; Jeremiah was a first-class Knightmare pilot by his own right. With or without his title, and even after the disgrace that Zero had brought upon him, his name still rang fear in the hearts of those who knew him. But politics was a dangerous game, and Gino wasn’t sure what to make of Jeremiah’s genuine passion for teaching Britannian History."Come to think of it, why don't you just go talk to him so he'll leave you alone already?" he asked."I don’t want to.”Gino blinked at that. “Huh?”Anya’s gaze didn't leave the screen of her blog. "He asks too many questions," she said, a semblance of a smirk gracing her lips. "I don't owe him any.”“Hold on, you mean you’ve spoken to him before?” Gino asked, a little surprised. He watched his friend nod and couldn’t help but snicker despite himself. “Now that must have been interesting.”“Not really.”Gino shook his head. “So did you ask him about his fancy mask?"Anya was typing into her blog as she responded. "He said he nearly died in the Battle of Narita," she simply said. "It destroyed his sight, so he needs the eyepiece in the mask to see better."Gino rolled over to his other side so that he was facing her, staring at her with a mixture of incredulity and awe. "You seriously asked him about it?" "Uh-huh.""And he answered?" he continued, still in disbelief. That Jeremiah survived the Battle of Narita was enough to make Gino marvel at the man's competence and strength, but that he actually shared a very interesting piece of information with Anya was even more fascinating. "I thought he didn't talk to people or something." Jeremiah certainly looked like a snob, mask or no mask.The young man received no answer for this observation, and he sighed. "Still, that eyepiece or mask thing that he has there makes him look almost – ""Cybernetic," Anya offered, her tone making it sound like talking to her friend was a big waste of precious time.Gino snapped his fingers. "That's the word," he agreed. "Cybernetic.""He doesn't mind."The young man lifted an eyebrow. "He also told you about that?”Anya shrugged. “He talks too much.”Gino gave a good-natured laugh at this. "Well for someone who doesn't want to talk to him, you sure know a lot about him.”There was a brief silence between the two of them, until Anya decided to break it. “He has a temper,” she said, as if that explained everything.And it did. "Ohhh.” Gino himself had heard of Jeremiah's dangerous temperament many times before. The no-nonsense teacher of Britannian History was infamous for his vicious lack of restraint over his emotions. Although the Knight of Three had yet to see Jeremiah's angry outburst for himself, all accounts seemed to agree that it was always very ugly. Rumors that Jeremiah Gottwald was both 'emotionally and mentally unstable' ran rampant, and something told Gino that there was a ring of truth to them. "I see.”The older Knight grinned to himself, marveling at how a furious Jeremiah would talk to a very indifferent Anya. His friend's cold demeanor could make her quite exasperating to those who didn’t know her well, but Gino was certain that she would never tolerate anyone screaming at her – not even the ex-Margrave himself.That’s never gonna happen, he thought. He kept his eyes at his friend until something occurred to him, and a thoughtful expression overtook his features. "Hey, Anya," he started, furrowing his eyebrows. "You probably don't care, but have you heard what our classmates are saying about Jeremiah…?"“No.”Gino sighed, feeling compelled to elaborate. Anya was his best friend, and he cared about her more than anyone else in the world. "Well," he began, unsure how to put it without being awkward. "Some of our classmates seem to think that Jeremiah is interested in you."The young woman cocked her head in his direction. "I don't understand what you're trying to say, Gino," she told him, looking unimpressed by his tentative tone.He gave her an uncharacteristic frown. "They're saying something like – " he hesitated, turning away as his frown deepened " – they're saying he likes you."Anya's only response was a perfunctory blink, and Gino grimaced. Right. He would have to spell it all out, wouldn’t he? "They think he likes you romantically. They say he's never given as much concern for a student before you." He paused. "Although that's disputable, considering he's only been here for a few months before we transferred…"He looked over to his friend to see her reaction, flashing an uncertain smile at her dead expression. Sometimes he really wondered what she was thinking. Emotions were always so difficult to tell with Anya. "I don’t believe any of it, really.”"If you ask me, I think Jeremiah is very serious about teaching, and he just wants to do it really well." Jeremiah had always had a reputation for taking his business very seriously, whether it was taking over a border or in this case, teaching Britannian History. The man refused to be nothing but the best in whatever he did. “And that includes looking after his students.”In a swift movement, the young man pulled himself up into a careless sprawl beside his friend. "To tell you the truth, I'm rather disturbed by the idea. I mean, that they think he can be interested in you." He frowned. "It's pretty – " he tried to find a kinder word, but failed miserably " – it's pretty sick, isn't it? After all, he's your teacher, and you're only fifteen…"Anya's lazy crimsons held his cheerful blues for a moment longer than necessary, before at last she raised her camera and snapped a picture of him."It is, Gino," she agreed, staring blankly at him. "It's pretty sick."
"I apologize, Mr. Gottwald, but Miss Alstreim says she's busy." The Britannian History teacher gave the president a curt smile, noting her apprehension under his gaze. "I understand. I'll speak to her once she's free, then. Thank you." He watched the young woman give a courteous, tense bow before turning on her heel to take her leave.Jeremiah Gottwald’s smile disappeared as soon as he was alone, and he clenched his fists.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The class president was in the middle of an announcement when Anya arrived in class. The Knight of Six took her place at the far back of the room, not missing the grave expression of her classmates – including the usually cheerful Gino himself.
Something was up.
“Following the advice of his doctors, Mr. Sigmund Gramercy will be taking the next several days off. Another teacher will be taking over this class starting tomorrow until he gets back,” the president said.
Anya threw an almost curious glance at her seatmate, who was surprisingly early that morning. Gino Weinberg had a thoughtful frown on his face, listening intently for probably the first time in his life. She held up her camera and snapped a picture, effectively distracting him.
“Anya,” he muttered, giving a slight frown.
“What happened?” she asked, mostly for the sake of asking. She stared at the picture of her friend, marvelling at how his features were altered by the uncharacteristic expression that graced his face.
“Jeremiah did something stupid,” Gino whispered, and Anya found herself looking up instinctively. The man had always been infamous for his temper, but that he would still bring it to Ashford Academy…
“Mr. Gramercy says his thanks for the flowers that we sent him,” the president continued, earning nods of approval from the rest of the class. ““I'll inform everyone when he'll be coming back, but for today, Calculus is free period for Class A.”
A heavy silence ruled over the room until one of their classmates raised a question. “What about Mr. Gottwald?”
The president nodded, seeming to tense up at the question. “Mr. Jeremiah Gottwald has been called to the Headmaster's office to give details about what happened. The Headmaster himself informed me that there will be no Britannian History class for today.”
“Aren't they going to suspend him?” one girl asked, the mixture of apprehension and anxiety evident in her tone. Several members of the class quietly nodded, as if in agreement.
The president shook her head, offering them an uncertain smile. “We have yet to see how their meeting turns out.”
Anya turned to Gino, unsure what was happening. “What did he do this time?”
Gino shrugged, watching their classmates leave the room. Without Calculus and Britannian History, they were free until third period. “He broke Mr. Gramercy's jaw.”
Anya lowered her camera to her lap, her expression unchanging. This was easily one of the stupidest things she had ever heard. “Why?”
“Something about Mr. Gramercy mentioning the Orange fiasco and the rumors of Jeremiah being a traitor to the Britannian Empire. You can imagine how much that must have ticked him off.”
Anya gave a slow nod, agreeing despite herself.
Jeremiah was one of the most prominent figures of the Britannian Army who was fiercely loyal to the Empire. Before the Orange fiasco casted doubt upon him, he was part of the Purist Faction, or “the Purebloods”, a Britannian political and military group who openly opposed the honorary citizenship system. The Purebloods fought aggressively to ensure that Elevens remembered their place and remained just that – Elevens.
It was easy to imagine how furious he must have been when the other teacher brought up the incidence. Whether he was a traitor or not, Jeremiah was forever going to remember that evening as the destruction of all his life’s work.
“Do you believe it?” Gino asked.
“Believe what?”
“That Jeremiah was conspiring with the terrorists?”
Anya looked down to her camera, turning it off with a shrug. “No.”
Gino started, surprised. They were the Knights of the Round, after all, and under the direct command of the Emperor himself. “You sound so sure.”
The young lady raised her gaze to the tall windows next to her seat. “Of course,” she said. She watched as the morning breeze stirred the cherry blossoms outside, the petals falling to the ground like snowflakes in winter.
“Jeremiah told me so.”Ruben Ashford turned away from the windows of his office when he heard the double doors open, the corners of his lips curling up in semblance of a smile. “Mr. Jeremiah Gottwald,” he greeted, and gestured to the couch. “Please, take a seat.”
The twenty-nine-year-old Britannian History teacher gave a curt nod in response before settling himself on the couch, his posture taut. He squared his shoulders, his expression dark and solemn, and tilted his chin in defiance.
He regretted nothing.
Ashford took his place opposite the younger man. “Can I offer you anything?”
“Thank you, but that won't be necessary,” Jeremiah declined, reminding himself that he did not come here for idle chitchat. He had known the repercussions of his recklessness even before he decided to pounce on that idiot for insulting him. The prospective had done nothing to restrain his anger then, and he had already screwed up too badly to regret anything now. “I understand I'm in trouble for what I've done.”
The headmaster of the school nodded. “I know all about your background as a knight, Mr. Gottwald,” he started, the calm in his voice almost enviable. “But this is no longer the battlefield that you've grown up in.”
Jeremiah felt himself stiffen at the words, once again reminded of his forced retirement from serving the empire that he valued more than his life itself. He clenched his fists, conscious of the anger that was slowly building up in his chest. The fact that it was an Ashford seated from across him was the only thing that kept him from completely flaring up.
It had been a while since he last saw the man, but Ruben Ashford was still one of the most devoted supporters of Empress Marianne. That he had gracefully accepted the death of the Empress and stubbornly refused to turn his back on her even after her death was something that Jeremiah thought deserved respect.
He clasped his hands together contemplatively. “I have no intention of apologizing for what I did,” he said. Hah. That idiot deserved it, and Jeremiah would be damned if he said otherwise.
The older man nodded, seeming to have expected this. “And I have no intention of asking you to,” he said, much to Jeremiah's surprise. “The loyalty of the Ashfords have been questioned many times over, before and after the death of Empress Marianne – “ he bowed his head at the mention of the dead, as if in a quick prayer, before continuing “ – I understand how you feel.”
Jeremiah was quiet in his seat, realizing that the old Ashford never once forgot who he was either, even after so many years. Jeremiah Gottwald was a knight of Empress Marianne first, a Margrave of Area 11 second, and a teacher of Britannian History third; and Ruben Ashford knew this by heart. For those several silent moments, Jeremiah had the feeling that they were back to eight years ago, when he was simply the knight of Empress Marianne, and the Ashfords were still the most powerful family in all of Britannia.
“Still,” the old man said, snapping Jeremiah back to the present. He fixed the younger man with a stern a gaze, and the teacher had a sense that Ashford was reminding him of his role as the headmaster of the Academy.
“You're a teacher now, Mr. Gottwald,” Ashford said. “As a person who is tasked to educate the younger generation and serve to be one whom they can emulate, you need to show more restraint, in both your conduct and temper.” He paused. “I'm suspending you for the next two weeks.”
Jeremiah took a deep breath. Two weeks. It wasn't as bad as what he had imagined it would be, although he still didn't like it. “All right,” he relented, his voice sounding much calmer than he actually felt. “Two weeks.”
Ashford stared carefully at him. “I hope what happened yesterday will not happen again, Mr. Gottwald.”
To this, Jeremiah only nodded, refusing to make a promise he wasn't sure he could keep. “I apologize for troubling you, Mr. Ashford,” he said instead.
Ashford smiled, the weariness evident in his eyes. The old man was more tired than he let on. “Then that will be all, Mr. Gottwald.”“A two-week suspension?”
Jeremiah nodded, feeling torn between being distressed and being amused. “I apologize. I didn't realize that my strength could break someone so easily.” He looked at his hands, marveling at how easily he had fractured Gramercy's jaw with an effortless punch.
It had been over a year since the Orange fiasco, the incident which had cost him not only his title and position as the Margrave of Area 11, but also the respect of his peers and fellow Britannians. It had been a while, and while most had been stunned when he emerged alive after the fateful Battle of Narita more than a year ago, none seemed to have forgotten about his 'betrayal' of the Empire.
Jeremiah sipped his wine, remembering the mockery and contempt that had followed the scandal. People actually believed it – that he could conspire with those terrorists and hand over his Empire to the enemy without remorse. It was as if no one knew who he was, and just how devoted he was to Britannia and its Army.
Seated on the stairway of the temple from across Jeremiah, the mysterious V.V. only shook his head, his quiet, enigmatic smile unwavering despite the ex-Margrave's report. “That's all right. You're still just learning about you strength.” His violet eyes flashed with dark amusement. “A broken jaw can hardly be called a casualty, if at all,” he added. “What's important is that you're still in Ashford Academy.”
Jeremiah smirked, knowing that V.V. was right.
Almost a year ago, a moment of uncontrollable fury, Jeremiah had disregarded his orders and broke out from the research facility where Prince Schneizel's team of scientists was experimenting on him. The mere mention of Zero had invoked a violent anger in the fallen knight, and before he could control himself, he had stolen the Knight Giga Fortress Siegfried with the full intention of killing Zero with his own hands.
Underestimating the terrorists and their loyalty to Zero, however, proved to be a fatal mistake. The pilot of Gawain, whom he now knew to be C.C., had ensured that she would drag him and the Siegfried into the ocean with her. It was a duel to the death, and he had barely escaped before losing consciousness.
It was four weeks later when he woke up to V.V., only to find out that he was still just healing from the massive injuries that he sustained from the battlefield. The mysterious boy was the one who found him ashore, and who bought him to the headquarters of the Geass Directorate, where he was treated.
It hadn't been done out of kindness; V.V. himself had told Jeremiah so. It was more of the mixture of dark amusement and wonder that prompted the boy to keep him from dying. ”You simply refused to die,” V.V. had told him. ”I didn't think a human being could possess such strong will to live.”
Jeremiah had smirked at the remark, somehow knowing that he would defy death itself for as long as he hadn't exacted his revenge on the masked terrorist that had taken everything away from him.
Dying was simply not an option for Jeremiah Gottwald.
In the months that followed the knight's recovery, V.V. told him all about Lelouch Lamperouge – the young man who donned on the heavy mask of Zero. The seventeen-year-old Lelouch was Zero, the masked icon who didn't only lead the Black Knights to conquer so many Britannian soldiers, but also gathered unparalleled respect and support from the other Britannian colonies in an impressively short span of time.
Jeremiah had been stunned to know that the leader of the terrorists was, while clearly cunning beyond his age, still no more than a teenager. Yet what had been the most unsettling for him was how a fellow Britannian could turn his back on his country so easily.
An Eleven leading a revolt – that would have been much easier to understand. But a Britannian? It hardly made sense, if at all. Had Lelouch Lamperouge been done wrong by the Empire?
It was for this reason, among many others, that Jeremiah decided to be part of V.V.'s Geass Directorate. While the golden-haired boy refused to tell much about himself, he generously explicated the geass and how it worked to Jeremiah. Despite having the unassuming appearance of a child, V.V. was much older than he looked, and Jeremiah had no doubts that the boy knew far more than would ever tell.
It was six months after Jeremiah woke up that V.V. gave him an offer which he couldn't possibly refuse:
“Would you like to get back everything you've lost, Sir Jeremiah Gottwald, and put an end to Zero once and for all?”
Jeremiah didn't even have to think about the answer; it simply slipped out almost instinctively. It was as though he had been waiting for the question all along.
“Yes,” he said, his voice as earnest as he had answered when asked if he would join the Britannian Army.
V.V. flashed a small smile, although his eyes remained cold and bored. “Very well. Go to Ashford Academy and take on the role of a Britannian History teacher.”
Jeremiah shook his head at the memory of the conversation four months ago. While he hadn't been most enthusiastic to be dealing with teenagers, he found himself enjoying teaching Britannian History more than he could have imagined. There was something strangely exhilarating about it, to be personally telling the story of how the Empire had started down to the battles that he himself had fought in.
The knight picked up his glass of wine from the table once more, letting a small smirk grace his lips. “So,” he started.
“How is the geass canceller coming along?”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Four months ago. A puzzled frown graced Jeremiah’s hard features, unsure if he heard right. "A teacher?" he asked, with a hint of distaste in his tone. The golden-haired child glanced up from where he was seated, sharp violet eyes boring into Jeremiah's. "Yes. A professor of Britannian History." A ghost of a smile formed on his lips. "I think it suits you well." The twenty-nine-year old knight smirked, half-amused and half-incredulous as he leaned back against his seat. He had expected a post in the front line; not a high school. Heaven forbid that he would have to deal with teenagers. "It would be an honor to tell students of the glory of Britannia," he conceded, after a thoughtful pause, "but I doubt the classroom setting is for me, V.V. I am a knight, and my life has always been in the battlefield." V.V. shrugged, holding up his cheeks in both hands in a bored fashion. "A traitor is all you are at the moment, Jeremiah," he simply said. "And I should remind you: The battlefield you seek is where Zero is. And right now, that is Ashford Academy." Jeremiah inhaled, the mention of Zero making him suddenly restless. "Of course," he said sharply. "Lelouch Lamperouge." He knew better than anyone else that Zero was very much alive. The young man was staying in Ashford Academy as the student he'd always been, leading a peaceful life with his friends. V.V. nodded. "His geass has been sealed, and his memories have been altered to suit the truth that we wish for him to believe." He paused. "As we speak, he is in Ashford Academy, and he has no memories of Zero, or the Black Knights, or the geass." A smirk tugged the corner of V.V.'s lips, seeming to notice Jeremiah stiffen at the mention of the curious word. "Ah, but of course. Zero isn't the only one who is in possession of the geass. It comes in many forms, depending on the fondest wish of the person who enters the contract." Jeremiah was quiet as he considered V.V.'s words. "Like a geass that alters the memories of a person," he murmured, an incident from only one four weeks ago crossing his mind. He was almost surprised by the questions that soon followed the memory, and he pushed it to the back of his mind, if only for the time being. He couldn’t afford to be distracted. "But what can Zero do, without his memories?" he asked instead, clenching his fist under the table. "I don't suppose he can do much," V.V. said. "Still, the execution of the Black Knights is going to be soon. I have no doubts that those who haven't been captured are still alive, and they will not stand doing nothing as their comrades are executed." He smirked. "Humans call it friendship, if I remember correct." Jeremiah gave a nod in understanding. V.V.'s argument was very likely, as even the ex-Margrave could somehow sympathize with what the Black Knights must be feeling toward their comrades. "What do you want me to do?" V.V. fixed him with an intent stare. "I want you to keep an eye on Zero," he said. "The remaining Black Knights are desperate to get him back – a feat they cannot accomplish without his memory, and his geass. To unseal both requires the ability of someone almost as precious as the geass." "The contractor," Jeremiah finished, to which V.V. nodded. "C.C. hasn't emerged since the incident in Kamine Island, and I suspect that she has been working with the Black Knights to get Zero back," V.V. said. "She's the only one who can unseal both his memories and the geass, as his contractor. If my estimation is correct, she will try to make contact within the next six months, before the execution of the terrorists." "The Geass Directorate has already sent an assassin to capture C.C. once she makes an appearance," V.V. said, giving a slight lift of his chin as he looked at Jeremiah. "All that's left is to deal with Zero, and ensure that he will no longer be an unnecessary obstruction to what the Directorate is trying to accomplish." "That's why you've been preparing things for me," Jeremiah muttered, instinctively flexing his fingers as he remembered the treatment and experiments he had undergone ever since he woke up. The last few months had been agonizing for him, and while he couldn't say that he was entirely happy with how he had been altered, he understood that all of it was necessary to destroy Zero. "That's right," V.V. nodded. "At present, we're almost halfway through the development of the geass canceller, as a precaution against the power of Zero’s geass." A flicker of dark amusement seemed to cross V.V.'s eyes and linger there. "The geass canceller will be yours in six months.”Anya sipped her chocolate drink through the straw, barely looking up from her food as she quietly listened to the Ashford Academy Student Council president. The nineteen-year-old Milly Ashford stood at the head of the table, her lunch sitting abandoned before her." – and so I asked my grandfather if he talked to Mr. Gottwald yesterday," Milly said, apparently too engrossed in her narration to eat. Seated on either side of her were the members of the Student Council, including Gino and Anya herself, who hadn't been as excited as her best friend when Milly invited them over for lunch. Anya kept her eyes on her food, remembering her first day in Ashford Academy. It hadn't been terrible in the truest sense of the word, although she found Milly Ashford to be a tad too friendly for her taste. The Council president had been ridiculously pleased to know that they were friends of Suzaku, as his fellow Knights of the Rounds. Milly had insisted on giving them a grand welcome to the school, to which the Knight of Six only responded with a blank look. Anya was, at best, indifferent to everyone else. Ashford Academy was an exclusive school for the wealthy, but she still found herself hardly fitting in with everyone else. Unlike her friend Suzaku, who had attended the school before he was promoted to be one of the Knights of Rounds; or Gino, who possessed an effortless charm that won over practically everyone barely two months since their transfer, Anya remained an aloof stranger to many. For her, attending an ordinary high school was nothing but a bother. Except for a few, most of the students in the school had already categorized the Knights of the Rounds to be completely different from the rest of them – a fact that she was more than thankful for. She barely even flinched when Gino told her that some of their classmates regarded her as an 'aristocratic snob'. "I'm glad to hear that," she had deadpanned. She wasn’t here to make friends. She was here on an assignment from the Emperor Charles zi Britannia. She wouldn't even see these people again after this. I'll just forget about them, anyway, she mused, suppressing her cynical smirk at the thought. She glanced at her camera beside her drink, marveling at how it must feel to actually remember. "So what did your grandfather say?" a dark-haired young man asked, looking quite bored of the discussion himself. Anya knew him to be Lelouch Lamperouge, the very subject of the mission that she and Gino were in the Academy for. The scrawny young man who Anya Alstreim could outrun in a marathon a hundred times over was Zero. Anya looked carefully at him, still wondering how Lelouch could be the masked terrorist. Zero's name rang fear in the hearts of even the highest ranking Britannian officers. It was ridiculous to find out that the man behind it was an eighteen-year-old teenager who couldn't run two laps without collapsing in exhaustion. Milly heaved a dramatic sigh, making everyone turn to her. "Grandfather told me that Mr. Gottwald would be suspended for the next two weeks for what he did," she said. "The school's board of directors is receiving hell from the parents because of it." A look of puzzlement crossed everyone's faces. "Why is that?" Gino asked, speaking in behalf of the group. A thoughtful pout formed Milly's lips. "Mr. Gottwald is a good teacher, and he knows Britannian History by heart. The problem is that the students are complaining about his temperament," she told them. "The students have always been scared of him, although my grandfather and the board only dismissed that before. They all thought it was only because of his rumored betrayal of the empire, and that everyone would forget about it soon enough. Mr. Gottwald's impressive enthusiasm and knowledge about the course made the board of directors hire him as a teacher in Ashford Academy." Milly glanced over to Gino and Anya. "The students, most particularly in your class, are afraid of what he might do if he loses his temper again, especially after what he did to Mr. Gramercy," she said. "Some of them, including your president, have even suggested that it would be much better to just fire Mr. Gottwald." Anya paused at the words, and she lifted her gaze to look at Milly, only to find Gino waiting for her reaction. She stared blankly at him, wondering how her friend could be such an idiot, before she turned back to her food. "You think they'd fire him?" Gino asked, in a tone which made it sound like he did it for her sake. Milly shrugged. "My grandfather said the board will only consider it if someone writes them a formal letter of complaint against him, or if he does something drastic again. For now, he's simply suspended for the next two weeks," she said. "Today will be your last meeting with him for Britannian History." Anya felt her best friend pause, and she looked up to see the expression of surprise on his face. "What?" he demanded. "There's Britannian History today?" Milly seemed puzzled. "Uh-huh. Mr. Gottwald will hold a class today, since he needs to finish the lessons for the midterms next week." She flashed them an uncertain smile. "It was posted in the bulletin. Didn't your president tell you?" Gino swiftly jumped to his feet, apparently realizing the time. "She must have, but I never listen," he admitted sheepishly. Without a pause, he turned to Anya, an easy grin falling on his lips. "Coming?"Jeremiah wasn't oblivious to the sudden silence that fell upon the classroom as soon as he stepped in two days later, noting how the students stiffened when they saw him. He'd always felt how anxious and tense they were in his presence, and he’d always know about their hushed whispers behind his back.It didn’t matter. He wasn’t a child, and he didn’t need anyone on his side. He made his way to the teacher's desk in front, letting a small smirk grace his lips as he placed his materials on top of the table. "Good afternoon, everyone," he said, his voice stern and solemn. The students rose to their feet, a mixture of confusion and surprise evident in their eyes. "Good afternoon, Mr. Gottwald," they greeted, sounding quite hesitant. They took their seats as soon as he nodded for them to, exchanging puzzled glances among themselves. He glanced around the room in a pretext of appraising the class attendance, almost giving a sigh when he didn't find whom he was looking for. With an inward frown, he stared over to the rest of the students. "I've spoken with Mr. Ruben Ashford regarding what happened two days ago," he started, removing his gloves as he spoke, "and it saddens me to inform you that I'm suspended for the next two weeks because of it." There was a loud murmur among the students, but Jeremiah was quick to silence it with a wave of his hand. "I've been instructed to finish today's lessons for your midterms. After the exams, a substitute teacher will take my place to hold this class.” The class president raised a hand, and he beckoned for her to stand up and speak. "What about Mr. Gramercy, Mr. Gottwald?" she asked. "Have you apologized to him?" Jeremiah furrowed his eyebrows, an expression of distaste crossing his features and lingering there. "No," he said curtly. "I have no intention of apologizing to Mr. Gramercy about what happened." That idiot practically asked for it, he almost added, but stopped himself just in time. The president frowned, seeming unconvinced. "But shouldn't you do it, as a teacher?" She tilted her head. "Surely you should apologize for having done something so violent – " "Miss Cavendish," he interrupted, the sharpness of his tone so distinct that it made the student flinch. "I would like to ask you to refrain from talking about something you don’t understand." He narrowed his eyes with warning. "Mr. Gramercy slighted me and my loyalty to Britannia. Even Mr. Ashford did not ask me to do something so preposterous." The student furrowed her eyebrows, unwilling to back down. "But isn't it his right, Mr. Gottwald?" she said. "To express his opinion on how you must have worked together with the terrorists?" An awkward silence fell upon the room once more, and the other students fidgeted in their seats. The only one who seemed calm and composed was Sabrina Cavendish, the class president herself. From across the room, Jeremiah stopped, feeling himself tense up at the blatant insult at his face. "Miss Cavendish," he growled, the drastic buildup of anger in his chest surprising even himself. He gave the student a hard stare, feeling absolutely infuriated by her insolence. "I've been loyal to Britannia all my life," he breathed through clenched teeth. He gripped the edge of the expensive wooden desk, his hands slightly trembling with uncontrollable fury. Ever since Prince Schneizel and his team of scientists performed experiments on him, Jeremiah had never been quite the same. It had never once come up during meetings with V.V., but he was certain that they had somehow tampered with his mind, robbing him of command over his temper and emotions. He swallowed, desperately trying to calm himself down. He always found himself at his worst whenever the topic of Zero and that damnable Orange fiasco came up.Damn it, he thought apprehensively. Losing control now also meant losing his chance of exacting his revenge on Zero and taking back what was rightfully his. He cursed under his breath, feeling hopelessly manipulated by his own emotions, and – Jeremiah paused, momentarily distracted when the door to the classroom opened. Still gritting his teeth, he turned his gaze to his far left, only to stop when he realized who was standing by the doorway. "Anya," he whispered, his anger suddenly forgotten as he beheld the Knight of Six. Almost unwillingly he felt himself relax, his breathing more easy, his posture still perfect but less rigid. He felt his hands drop at his sides, his gaze fixated only on her. Anya glanced up at him, her crimson eyes remaining bored and uninterested even when they met his own. Without a word, she turned on her heel and walked to her seat at the back of the classroom, Gino Weinberg following closely behind her. "Sorry for being late," Gino called out, as the two of them settled behind their desks. He was smiling cheerfully, seeming oblivious to how tense the atmosphere was inside the classroom. "We had to run a little errand." Jeremiah snapped out of his astonishment and nodded in the direction of the Knights of the Round. "I understand," he said, more calmly this time, after which he glanced over to the class president. "I will not be apologizing to Mr. Gramercy," he told her, his voice much calmer but still grim. "Would there be anything else?" The young woman quietly shook her head before taking a seat, and Jeremiah turned his attention to the rest of the class. He needed to drop the subject; talking any further about it would only bring him to a disadvantage. "The topics which we'll discuss today will be included in your midterms next week," he said, deciding it would be best to proceed with the lectures instead. He lifted his gaze to where Anya was, an odd feeling of calm seeming to sweep over him. "You missed one week worth of lectures, Miss Alstreim. Please see me in my office after class." Anya gave him a quiet stare, an expression of unsettling boredom in her face, like all the world was just painfully uninteresting. Despite himself, Jeremiah felt strangely uneasy, wondering if he had angered her somehow. He didn't know how it could have happened, but it certainly felt like he did. At last, after what seemed to be a small eternity, the Knight of Six gave a slow nod. "All right." Jeremiah let out the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding, and nodded. Without another word, he picked up a piece of chalk and turned to the blackboard. "Let's start today's lecture, then."