All Slavs are like cousins, but the Czechs and Slovaks are closer to each other than to anyone else. The language barrier between us is almost non-existent. We have history. And even though we're obviously not made to live with each other, our relationship is special. We're not cousins. We're brothers and sisters.

Story contains some violence and references to sex (nothing detailed) and historical facts, too.

Enjoy!


PART 1

Eva.

I can stay like this, lying on my bed, thinking of her until my last breath comes, tinged with her name. And it would be a good life.

You don't know what beauty is if you haven't met her.

You don't know what pain is if you haven't met me.

You don't know what love is if you're not aware of...

All the things I've seen.

All the things I've done.

All the things I've been through.

Some are good. Some stupid, some literally insane. Some painful. Some spine-chilling.

Some all at once.

And if needed, I would do it all over again. Every last one of them.

For her.


Draw a circle. That's the Earth.

Now draw Europe (a bit more tricky!). Then, draw two lines, cutting it into halves horizontally and vertically. See where the lines cross? That's where our story begins. In the heart of Europe.

When? A crazy long time ago.

Why? The heart of Europe had come to life and finally started to beat.

So, what exactly is happening? Well, many were those who wanted the heart, because of its strategic position, natural resources and plenty other good reasons. But it wouldn't be conquered easily. Therefore, a large reward was promised to the one who would catch it. That is why plenty of lowlifes like me were currently hanging around the area, waiting to find their prey unprepared.

But who are you, the hero? you probably wonder. My name is Czechia. What am I like? You know what, read on and see for yourselves.


"I'm so fed up with this shit," I remember sighing, stretching out on the cold grass, lighting up my pipe.

You're probably imagining me as an old, bitter man. And that's how I felt inside, even though at that time, I had just turned fifteen.

Life wasn't exactly killing me with kindness. Even as a child, no one wanted me, no one cared for me. I had gone through all kinds of dirty jobs, seen and experienced things even adults should not. I knew what women tasted like and that they tasted differently if they weren't consenting. I knew what choking on my own blood felt like or what it felt like to make someone else choke on their own blood. I knew that most things were just skin deep; whether you were pretty, ugly, wise or stupid, rich or poor, young or old, black or white, you would make the same sound when someone tears your entrails out, you would rot in the ground just like anyone else.

I knew some others had it worse. But this just wasn't the life I wanted.

Thankfully, recently I'd found a way to deal with it, more or less. Well-built and not exactly a dimwit, either, I got hired as a mercenary and quickly became one of the best. I would cut, pierce, smother, strangle, seize, slay, maim and much more, sinking so deep into the frenzy that I forgot about how pointless my existence was.

Still, there were drawbacks. I would work in harsh conditions, always on the move, freezing my butt in icy rain or slowly melting in scorching heat. On the top of that, I had no idea what I would become the day I got maimed myself, unable to earn my wage anymore. So I was looking for a way to achieve a more stable situation.

When I heard all about that heart of Europe business, I knew I was meant for it. A comfortable, simple life of a rich man was now within my reach.

Except that the bitch just wouldn't show herself.

Yes, I knew she was female. I would hear her humming every single night, her voice and that teasing tune filling my dreams, stealing the sleep away.

I had been there for several weeks, observing, calculating, waiting. I liked challenges. And the longer I waited, the more determined I grew to catch her and do whatever I wanted with her.

The thing was, the bitch kept hiding in the forest. It was her home, she knew it inside out and she would always find a way to slip through my fingers while there. You might as well try to catch the breeze. But where's the will, there's a way.

I needed to make her come out.

She did come out, actually. Every night, even. I was aware of my food disappearing, not too much at once, just a piece of bread here, a slice of cheese there. Just enough for an ordinary man not to notice.

I was no ordinary man.

It was her way of showing me she was better than me. It would be my way of showing her she was not.

This was fun, I thought. But all good things must come to an end.


-END OF CHAPTER 1-