Hello and welcome to my new series of stories. My idea is to write history from my OC's perspective but I will give my best to present all of the other characters respectfully. Hope you like it and please have patience because the story might need a few chapters to become interesting.
A long table, in a dim-lighted room, is filled to the last seat with Serbian military, government and church officials. At the head of the table sits the king. Their somber faces foreshadow the horrors that are yet to come. Everyone is quiet.
Serbia, arms folded, stands next to a window where only a slightest strip of light is allowed to enter the room. Serbia has been wearing a male military uniform ever since AH declared war. Her boyish short hair is stylishly cut.
The secretary reads from the agenda: "The next item on the list is our public image. The Austro-Hungarian government along with their allies has already started spreading propaganda about the "inferiority and savagery" of the Serbian people. Any suggestions?"
The table is silent. All humans are deep in thought, their mustaches hanging in a very somber down arch. Serbia stands there for a while nervously dabbing her fingers against her forearm. The silence dominates the room in such a way that the ticking of the wall clock seems as loud as canon fire.
A ding sound is heard and a light bulb appears above the nation's head. "I got it! I have the perfect solution for that!" she shouts. All of the faces turn in her direction. Energetically, she moves the curtain and the screen is engulfed by sunlight. The humans squint.
"I know, it may sound a bit crazy but hear me out" she continues with confidence. "What kept us from forgetting who we were during the Ottomans? Even when all was lost, what kept us going?"
Everyone is dead quiet.
Eyes wide open, she smiles all excited and says: "Epics. Those magnificent stories, glorifying our greats and our ordeals. They helped me survive centuries of servitude. That is what we need now. An epic written in such a way that it will bring tears to the eyes of even our worst enemies". She says that with such enthusiasm that she can't help but jump triumphantly on the table.
The king frowns, his mustaches wiggling unpleased. He then looks at his thin nation: "With all do respect Serbia. I do not think you are taking this seriously." His words make her turn pale and stone gray as she retreats to her chair.
The focus shifts on another minister: "I agree completely. My suggestion is to focus on hard facts. We should take pictures and keep records of everything that happens". Seeing she is outnumbered, Serbia slouches a little.
"You are right. Nothing beats lies like the truth. But will it be enough? What if our enemies accuse us of subjectivity?" a military official speaks. Serbia slouches even more. The debate continues.
"Yes, that may be a problem...Perhaps it is best if we invite a foreign investigator. One with high credentials."
"Good idea. Someone whose name doesn't end with -ić" another minister jokes. This cracks a smile on a few faces. "The more generic the surname the better" one church official adds giggling.
The king seems pleased: "Then it is settled. I shall put things in motion the first thing tomorrow. We don't have a lot of time until Austro-Hungary's troops mobilize." Everyone is in a much better mood, except for Serbia whose head is pressed against the table.
She mumbles: "I was being serious. An epic is always a great idea."
The Mitropolit addresses her in a sympathetic voice: "It's not that it's bad. It's just not practical."
"Why do you say that?" her voice is muffled by the table her face is still hugging.
"Well for example, the greatest hero of our oral tradition, Marko Kraljević. Those epics uplifted the hearts of dozens of generations, right?" he continues calmly.
"Yes" she says cautiously still not lifting her head.
"How trustworthy are they? I want to say, of course Marko Kraljević was real but did he really do all does incredible things? Like chased down an elf, lived 300 years or picked up a pair of oxen with the entire cart just to kill a few Turks?"
She thinks about playing dead for a moment of two but realizes everyone is staring at her. "Maybe" she utters.
"You see. We can't prove that, can we? It's not the most accurate portrayal of events, is it?" the Mitropolit continues as if teaching a child about the merits of eating vegetables.
"Fair point" the slim nation raises her head. She stands up straight addressing the king: "Is there anything I can do boss?"
"Actually... I have a special mission for you."
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Note: I haven't written the names of government officials of the time not because I was lazy but because it felt weird. I didn't want to put names of such important historical figures into something that has talking walking human personifications of pieces of land as main characters. If you are intrigued, you can learn about them online. Here are some of them:
King- Петар Први Карађорђевић
The Mitropolit – Димитрије
Some important ministers: Никола Пашић, Стојан Протић
Generals: Војвода Радомир Путник, Војвода Живојин Мишић, Војвода Степа Степановић