The world must be really fucked up if the eternal neutrality Switzerland has to fight and resort to the help of his little Liechtenstein.

She's so small. She's so small. She's so small.

This sentence resounded in his head, on replay again and again, like a prelude to the upcoming massacre as he watched her polish the already shiny enough gun, noting how unnatural the two looked together.

Sweet, gentle Liechtenstein, a symbol of innocence and the reason of all his efforts towards peacemaking and anger management almost ever since he had been established as the country he was now (whatever he did later on, he did it for her) and an instrument for killing which was more suited to himself. They just didn't suit each other.

The glint in her eyes was darkened and if only one could stare concentrated into them, he'd see the reflection of the weapon, magnified tenfold; the reflection of fear.

This isn't right. She isn't supposed to fight.

Her blonde hair was once again long, done into two strict braids that matched the somber expression on her face. Gone were the careless locks, the dark lilac ribbon and the lazy summer afternoons when there was nothing to do except watch the crops and the grasses grow and the cows eat them. He's always cherished such memories since they were rare; once, he had even thought that those peaceful times would be infinite so he could make more of those kind of memories but apparently only man's lust for power will be infinite.

And from now, in a few decades or so, he wouldn't be lying on the grass somewhere in his territory, watching the dairy cattle. Instead, he'd be fighting: there'd be death; there'd be corruption; famine, blitzes, tanks, bombs.

And this time, much to his terror, he wouldn't be fighting alone. Liechtenstein would be by his side.

There was no other way left. She had to fight. That was what his governors had told him and their words were a law for him.

However, the real tragedy lay in the fact that they were right and their decision made sense: their neutrality wasn't going to help them much longer, not to mention the effects of the economic crisis at the beginning of the century. He wouldn't be able to finance everything needed for the war (warfare machines, weaponry, some kind of protection for the civil personae) as he had lost a lot of money over the last few decades. Gone were the days when his education was the most expensive and the standard for living was so much higher.

So many changes: seems like the 20th century all over again.

He wasn't a man of many emotions so instead of screaming and crying and thrashing and trying to change the reality, he simply walked to the bed which they used to share from time to time when she was having nightmares and slowly lowered his body to sit on the very edge of it. As though it had a mind of its own, his head descended to rest in the cup of his hands. A tremor passed through his muscles; it felt like his bones were being shattered.

"Onii-sama?"

Her tiny voice ringed uncertainly in the silence of the room and once again he was reminded of the fact that she was still little, that her mind was still untainted despite all the shortcomings that had befallen her before he found her. He didn't dare lift his head lest he see her eyes, her enormous green eyes, green like an alpine meadow in summer so he remained in a position of a man overcome by life, circumstances and bad luck.

Her new trousers rustled a bit, indicating that she was approaching him, crinkled as she kneeled right in front of him. For a second, he noticed what little warmth she had, then, a heartbeat later, felt her hands around his face. Gently, she lifted his face, forcing him to open his eyes.

"Onii-sama."

Her eyes were gigantic, serious; the usual twinkle was gone (the first victim of the war). She was trying to act cool, like a grownup, but her inner child shone from within. The uniform was too big on her: her shoulders were too thin to take all the space in the shoulder pads, her legs were too short for the length of the trousers and the gun way beyond her head. Yet, she exhibited a sense of finality and a firmness he hadn't quite noticed before.

"Don't worry, onii-sama. Everything will be okay."

Yeah, right. Everything would be okay. There'd be no problems.

Apart from the famine, the panic, the deaths, the millions destroyed families (buildings will be restored, but can you restore families?), the highly possible natural disasters and the uncountable violations of human rights due to the new, improved technologies. Yes, sunshine and rainbows.

He noticed she had a big, sure smile on her face and wondered why she was so sure. Then, a realization hit him: she wasn't sure of anything, she was just as afraid as him. She was just putting on a mask, so that he wouldn't worry about her as much. She was looking after him.

Something in his chest contracted and was then silenced again by the panicked thoughts of his people. He could feel it, they could feel it: trouble was brewing and this trouble would take a lot of damage away with itself.

Why had they returned to the old ways? Where did all that work go? Can't they just progress?

Basch Zwingli didn't know what to do anymore.

…