Spamano, 30-year's war period.
I couldn't figure out how to tilde the 'n' in Espana.
Lovino didn't get involved, but the day Espana was to leave, he caught Antonio by the strap of his bag.
"Please don't go," he said, almost inaudible. Antonio turned around with his beaming smile. Lovino immediately folded his arms.
"I have to, Lovi! We must return the north to the Catholic fold!" Seeing Lovino's damp eyes, he bent his head and to the boy's chin between his hands. "Surely you agree? They all should be like us?" Lovino nodded uncertainly.
"But won't they realize on their own? Why do you have to go?" Antonio laughed and ruffled his hair.
"Only Espana can lead them down the path of righteousness! I must lead my brother countries back into the light."
"Why you?" Lovino strained to prevent his departure.
"We are the forefront of Catholicism, the righteous people!" Lovino considered.
"But so is Feliciano. What about him?" Even as he said it, he realized how silly that sounded.
"Your brother? Lead countries?" Antonio burst into loud laughter. Before Lovino had time to be offended, Espana walked out the door.
"I'll be home soon, Lovino. I will bring you glory, my little tomate."
There was not glory.
Oh, Antonio, so optimistic. Too bad Sverige thrashed you in that war.
