Wow, you guys, thank you for all of the views and alerts~ They make me so happy! A special thank you to Rennasakura, angelstryke, SilverTrain, For Russia with love, XxEvilxX, and artfan for the nice reviews (you all are Prussia-awesome); quite frankly, I'm kind of paranoid about this story now, so it's nice to know that quite a few people liked it. I also altered some of the background information in the first chapter just a bit out of said paranoia; it shouldn't be significant, but if you want, go check that out. Anyway, hopefully this chapter turned out better. T.T *is incredibly paranoid now*
PS. Constructive criticism is great. I'd just like it to have examples; I can't fix a problem if I don't see it.
Just as a little side note… :D I finally got my tapes so I can finally start learning some Russian~ *squees* o.o Must get good enough to pass that test for my school to prove that I can make it in Moscow or St. Petersburg in two years' time…
Disclaimer: Hey! Guess what everybody! I still don't own Hetalia… T.T If I did, I wouldn't already be in debt thanks to that lovely institute called college.
...:... Journey ...:...
The land of Clubs was adjoined to the mainland, boarding both Hearts and Diamonds; of the three nations, Clubs was, by far, the largest nation in existence. For such a vast landmass, it still didn't quite hold the title of the most populated of the four countries; the land of Clubs was a cold land that faced many daily challenges from just the natural elements without even taking into consideration the man-made factors. As a result, the people of Clubs were a strong, practical people; Alfred learned all of this (save for the size of Clubs' territory—he already knew that) during the first week of his journey on the ship.
Since both Kings stepped onto the vessel and Ivan retreated inside the ship, Alfred hadn't even caught a glimpse of the fair-haired man. What was even worse was the fact that he couldn't understand a word of the Club languages, leaving him effectively isolated from most of the crew even if they were standing directly in front of him. On the second day since the ship left the port, Alfred met Toris, the young assistant of the King of Clubs who had, for some reason, offered to keep the Spade King company when he was finished with his work. It was Toris who expanded Alfred's limited knowledge on the kingdom in which he would (likely) be spending the rest of his life. The pair of them generally sat out on the deck of the ship after dinner, talking about nothing in particular to pass the time—one dressed in blue, the other in green.
On the second week of the journey, the pair was conversing in their usual seats with Alfred excitedly explaining several of the myths from Spades behind the constellations when the elusive King of Clubs approached them. While Toris smiled politely and inclined his head, Alfred was too busy pointing up at the particular constellation he was referring to to notice the new presence standing roughly a foot from where he sat or the violet eyes that watched his sporadic arm motions as he concluded with story. From his seat, Toris could see both the amused look in his King's eyes as well as the excited smile on the Spade King's lips as he spoke rapidly but with plenty of emotion.
When he was finished with his story (Toris didn't even bother to count how many times the word "hero" had entered the story), Alfred propped his elbows on his knees while leaning forward so that he could rest his chin on his hands. His smile became a bit more wistful then, "It's not my favorite one, but I don't think you can see the Eagle from out here."
"This Eagle is your favorite then?" Ivan asked, clearly making his presence known.
Alfred jumped and whirled around as though he were about to be attacked and was preparing to defend himself. Ivan chuckled, amused by the display. The second Alfred realized who it was standing behind him, his expression fell into a scowl. "It's weird to sneak up on people," he muttered.
"Good evening, your majesty," Toris greeted.
The second Ivan's hand made contact with Alfred's shoulder, the blue King shrugged it off. Ivan didn't seem to care much, though, as his expression didn't change much. "You will be following me now, da?" he instructed.
The two Kings met eyes—one defiant, the other amused. "We can talk just fine out here," Alfred pointed out.
Something shifted in Ivan's eyes, causing Alfred to feel as though there was a harsh pressure charging the air around him. He continued to leer, though; Alfred wasn't one to back down even at a disadvantage. "We have things to discus," Ivan insisted, "Now hurry up; I will not wait for you, and it would be a shame if your room was suddenly locked for the night…" Making his point valid, he turned and began walking towards the inner portions of the ship.
With a rather dramatic huff, Alfred climbed to his feet. While he liked looking up at the stars, the closer and closer they got to Clubs, the colder and colder it was getting; he did not want to sleep out on the deck in the cold. He made sure to (maturely) stomp his shoes against the wooden decks with each step to let the King of green know that he was unhappily following.
Alfred was honestly surprised when they arrived in a rather cramped room instead of something more…lavish. Within the small space, there was a bed crammed against the back wall; a small table holding well-organized stacks of parchment, writing tools, and a rather large map; a single chair with the table; and several candles lit around the room.
Obviously, Ivan caught Alfred staring, "You were expecting something else, da?" Alfred nodded, still a bit too surprised to come up with some witty (AKA untactful) remark to respond with. Ivan's smile fell just a fraction as he took a seat on the edge of the bed. He motioned for Alfred to take the chair.
Alfred scooted the chair out, the legs scraping loudly against the wooden planks of the floor. He plopped himself unceremoniously in the chair, watching the other King with a bit of a frown. So this was supposed to be Spades' greatest enemy, huh? So he was tall, and Alfred guessed that he could probably be kind of intimidating if he wanted. Of course, Alfred wasn't affected—he'd been forced in the middle of too many of Yao and Arthur's fights over cooking for that.
Before he could stop himself, he snickered at the memory, causing one of the Club king's fair brow's to lift. Alfred shook his head quickly, "You were sayin'?"
Either doing a wonderful job of brushing off the interruption or simply not caring, Ivan began speaking, "It would do you well to learn the language of my court."
Well there went the good mood the memory of Yao smacking Arthur in the head with a wooden spoon brought back. Crossing his arms over his chest, Alfred returned Ivan's gaze, "Nope." That was just one step too far. Alfred was well aware that he would probably have to learn it eventually, but he was still recovering from the shock of leaving behind his homeland; he wasn't ready to give up even more so quickly. Besides… as Yao liked to point out… Alfred was terrible with picking up other languages.
Oddly enough, Ivan's smile lifted, "Wrong answer."
Alfred felt his spine tense without his permission, but he still refused to back down. He continued to stare back defiantly. It was just a smile. How creepy could those get? "You're not gettin' me to speak anything but my language," he argued, "Yours is boring." Honestly, though, he wasn't even sure if what he heard the crew on the ship speaking was the same as the dominate language of Clubs' court. He had no idea what Ivan's language sounded like.
That was enough to wipe the smile off of Ivan's face. Alfred decided that he was much easier to deal with when he looked serious; it was easier to see the faint traces of tired black lines under his eyes speaking of a lack of sleep and the tension stored in his broad shoulders. Something about this more serious version of the Club King made Alfred wonder if there was some sort of trouble inside the Kingdom of Clubs. He'd have to ask Toris about that later.
"If that is the attitude you are going to take, I will stop speaking your language," Ivan warned before a hint of a smile twitched at his lips, "Oh, and Toris, too."
Alfred gaped for a moment, "Dude, you can't do that!"
This time, Ivan's smile wasn't so much the way-too-innocent one that kind of bugged Alfred; it actually seemed as though the taller monarch was genuinely amused. "Да. Я могу," he responded.
Alfred's eye twitched rapidly. "Uh… What?" Ivan just continued to smile and watch the Spade King's reaction. Alfred slanted his lips, sulking coming as a fairly natural reaction at the moment. "I totally hate you," he informed.
"Are you changing your answer then?" Ivan asked, "Because I find the idea of you getting hopelessly lost in the streets of my capital rather amusing."
Alfred stared at the man as though Ivan had just spoken another sentence in his language. With a heavy, almost dramatic sigh full of frustration, he leaned back against the chair, choosing to look at the map on the table and the pictures that seemed to dance in the flickering candlelight instead of Ivan, "Fine. Just so I show you up in your own language."
The green-clad monarch chuckled softly, and Alfred found his eyes drawn back to the amused violet pair without his permission. "Удачи," Ivan responded before shifting a bit, presumably to get comfortable, "Let's begin with something easy."
Alfred had a feeling that the remainder of the trip just got a whole lot longer.
If Alfred assumed that trying to speak Yao's language was difficult for him, actually learning Ivan's was, thankfully, just a little less confusing in some respects. Still, he found himself the victim of many amused and disappointed looks from a certain pair of violet eyes over the span of the next two weeks. It wasn't his fault that Ivan was a slave driver of a teacher… He expected Alfred to have the alphabet down in the first week! Okay, maybe that wasn't so bad since the Spade King had nothing to do besides lounge around the ship and the occasional bit of exercise, but said King was extremely resistant to anything he didn't actually want to do (a trait that, as Yao put it, was both good and bad, depending on the situation).
The pair of Kings met up every night, exactly one hour after dinner, and Alfred would try to resist leaning in any way possible. He would make snide remarks that were, more usually than not, brushed off with a (sometimes cutting) remark from Ivan. However, on the next to last day they were to be on the ship, Ivan had finally lost his patience (Alfred, honestly, was surprised that it had taken that long given that Arthur's patience record was eight hours and Yao's was two days when the King chose to sulk). After several remarks about how idiotic and lazy Spades' citizens must be if they idolized such King, Alfred shot back his own rant about Clubs and its King before storming out of the room in a fury that would have made Arthur proud. Insulting Alfred was one thing; insulting his people struck a nerve. He was about to show Ivan just how dumb the people of Spades were.
Alfred bit at his lip as he made his way to Ivan's room for the final lesson before they hit the mainland. He knocked loudly on the door, intent on disturbing the Club King as much as possible.
"Come in," the usual accented response came. Alfred entered the room and shut the door behind him. The King of Clubs was at the chair (odd, since he was usually sitting on the edge of the bed), leaning over some papers, occasionally scratching something out and penning something else down with a quill.
"Добрый вечер," Alfred snapped, trying his best to roll the sounds off of his tongue, mimicking the way Ivan spoke. It wasn't perfect by a long shot, but it certain wasn't bad, Alfred realized with a proud grin. Ivan's eyes defocused from the words he'd been reading, blinked a few times, and then looked up to Alfred, obviously not expecting to hear the words anytime soon.
A smirk cracked on his lips, and he set the quill down on a nearby parchment designated to clean the extra ink before writing. "Good evening," he replied.
"Quiz me," Alfred demanded without even bothering to try and preserve a sense of diplomacy.
Ivan tilted his head and blinked again, "Pardon?"
Alfred pointed to a clean parchment, "On your weird letters."
Ivan hesitated for a minute, just watching Alfred before amusement filled his eyes again. "If that is what you want," he responded. He picked up the quill and began to write the characters on a clean piece of paper. "Tell me the sounds they make," he instructed even though they'd been through the same thing every night for two weeks.
Honestly, Ivan was rather surprised even if he hid it expertly behind several picky statements and curt comments at Alfred. Apparently the boy was quite a bit more intelligent than he'd assumed; it was just a matter of motivation. In a single one-hour lesson, Alfred learned more than he had in thirteen other lessons.
When Ivan decided that it was enough for one night, he leaned back against his seat and inspected the young King seated on the edge of the bed. The green-clad king intertwined his fingers and rested his chin on them. "You are quite good at this pretending thing, aren't you?" he asked rhetorically.
Alfred's large, sapphire eyes blinked several times, "Uh… what?"
A light smirk twitched at the corner of Ivan's lip, "Nothing important. Now, I suggest you pay close attention to what I am about to tell you and answer me honestly. Your life could depend on this. You understand that, da?"
The almost endearing look of confusion on the other King's face fell quickly into a challenging look. Obviously he was either being cocky, or he didn't understand that Ivan's words were a simple truth and not a threat. "If I die, Artie isn't gonna be happy, let me tell ya that," the blue-clad King responded.
Ivan frowned and sat back up. He'd seen the royal family of Spades interact; they were close, and that was something even a fool could see. It wasn't exactly that Ivan wished for a similar trusting relationship with his Queen and Jack; it would just make everything work more smoothly if the pair of them weren't constantly looking for some excuse or another to fight back against Ivan. Then again, they had been somewhat like the Spade family at one point, but after… that incident, the Jack of Clubs, even more so than the Queen, did his best to strike at Ivan in any way possible. The Jack was clever and made certain that, when the time came to inspect the matter, the Jack's hands were always clean, but Ivan knew, and the Jack knew that the King knew; it was that knowing smirk that told Ivan all he needed to know. Honestly, though, a part of Ivan knew that it wasn't unwarranted. In defending his kingdom, he'd made an enemy of his own Jack and Queen.
By the time Ivan realized he hadn't responded, Alfred had tilted his head and shifted to try and get a better view of the Club King's face. Violet eyes widened for a moment before Ivan summoned the small smile that acted as a quick shield. "You okay, big guy?" Alfred asked.
"Fine," Ivan responded evenly, "I have a question for you first, Alfred. How much does your kingdom know of the Jokers?"
Alfred blinked at the question and tilted his head, "Well… they started out as people who cast off their allegiance to a suit and went through some weird, secret magic ritual to gain tons of powers."
Ivan nodded in agreement, "A bit crudely put, but да; that is the basic idea." He honestly expected the Spades Kingdom to know much more about the mysterious suitless Jokers given their past history, but he supposed most things were lost with time… and a bit of magic. "There is only one thing that I would correct you on; most of the time, Jokers did not throw away their suit—it was burned away from them by white magic, casted without the castor even knowing that they'd done it."
Alright, so Alfred was a little curious. Exploration into the past was a hobby of his, after all, and, if all of this was true, it could explain some of the questions the old ruins and scrolls raised. "Okay… How do you cast magic without knowing it?" he asked, sapphire eyes both curious and cautious. Even Arthur's most basic spells took chants and, generally, some sort of preparation (circles, ingredients, etc.). How could someone use magic like that without even knowing it?
"In my homeland, " Ivan began, "we have idea that all people have some magic, they just cannot channel it like others can. We have seen times when extreme stress makes the magic… appear."
Alfred nodded while thinking about it. Arthur's magic really only worked the way he intended it to when they were seriously in danger. The night that Alfred first encountered an assassin… He brushed those thoughts aside; he was an adult now, but the memory was still vivid. "That's great and all, but why the history lesson?" he asked. The sooner he could leave the Club king's side, the better.
Ivan's smile looked a bit strained yet almost relieved, "Then Spades has not been contacted either."
Alfred felt as though a weight slammed into his chest. There was just something… ominous about that statement. "Contacted? What are you talking about?" he asked, his voice making it sound like more of a demand, "What's going on?"
Ivan inspected the shorter King for a moment in the tense silence. And then the King did something Alfred didn't expect; he laughed. Alfred stared dully at Ivan, not appreciating the gesture. "Ah. Was not laughing at you," he clarified, "You just don't understand; this was whole reason for bringing you to Clubs." Alfred continued to give him a dull stare, not comprehending the point and not enjoying being left out of the loop. Ivan cleared his throat, "I brought you here because Spades was supposed to have most information on the Jokers. Preventing war was just a bonus."
Alfred clinched his teeth together. So he was torn away from his family and kingdom because a foreign monarch wanted a history lesson? His nails dug deep into the skin of his palms as he resisted the urge to attack the taller King. "That's it?" he seethed, surprised that his own voice could actually hold that much fury.
Ivan seemed to realize his mistake and shook his head, "No, is not 'it.' The Jokers intend to attack and conqueror the Four Kingdoms. We have until next winter to prepare."
Alfred felt his fingers unclench and his jaw drop just a bit. Oh. Well… that was a bit of a problem, wasn't it? He forced a smile, fighting against the unease in his stomach. He'd seen the scrolls and the paintings; one Joker was said to be capable of taking down a third of an army in some cases. "Wait! They can't even get off their island! How could they attack us?" he demanded, climbing to his feet to look down at the seated Ivan.
The other monarch stood up as well, once again displaying his full height, "Because curse that first Spade Queen placed on Joker Island is almost broken now. Is just a little problem, da?"
Yeah. Little problem. Right. "You're lying," Alfred snapped, "That's impossible! How would you even know all that? Nobody can find the freakin' Joker Island."
Ivan's smile lifted upwards as if to say 'I know something you don't!' "You will see tomorrow," he responded with confidence that was hard to fake.
There was a knock at the door before Toris entered. The brunette seemed a bit surprised to see both Kings still conversing. "Your Highness, Captain Carriedo will be arriving tomorrow at port with the information on the location you requested. He um… asks that his payment be ready when he arrives; he intends to leave port as soon as possible," the assistant informed.
Ivan turned his attention to Toris and the pair began conversing in foreign words that Alfred didn't bother to listen to. Instead, he left without a word and went out onto the deck of the ship, settling his arms against the railing as the frigid night air swept through his blonde hair. War with the Jokers… A war that would have to be fought predominantly with magic.
A smirk quirked at the corner of his lips. "Artie's gonna love this," he laughed to no one in particular.
Three weeks earlier…
Two sets of footsteps pounded on the soft dirt of the tropical underbrush with a horde of shouting and explosions following them. "Gil… I can't keep… running," a blonde youth called, trying to catch his breath in between short strides. Prominent brows furrowed on the child's face, and his blue eyes desperately glanced from the tall albino figure in front of him to the thick forest vegetation behind him. Their pursuers could appear at any moment…
The albino's red eyes caught sight of the youth's struggles to keep up with his long strides almost immediately. "Tch. Come here, Pete. I'm awesome enough to ditch these guys und carry you," he announced quietly. He didn't wait for an answer as he scooped the child up in his arms and continued barreling through the vegetation with no idea of their destination's direction. Peter knew it even if Gilbert didn't say it; they were lost.
The sounds of their pursuers were getting louder, closer. Gilbert ground his teeth together and sped up, sweat dripping from his forehead. Years in the military had honed him to the point where he could push his physical body beyond its normal limits… and the magic he'd gained only helped.
Peter's smaller hands clinched tightly into Gilbert's black and red jacket. For once, he wasn't complaining about being carried. The stress written in the normally carefree albino's face was enough to silence his protests.
Just when Gilbert could hear the sound of their pursuers' footsteps, an arm snaked suddenly around his waist and a hand clamped over his mouth. The arm yanked him back into nearby brush. Gilbert tensed, ready to fight. "Shh. Stay still and quiet for once. Understood?" the familiar, accented voice instructed calmly and quietly, just barely loud enough for Peter to hear.
Gilbert relaxed and nodded at the familiar voice. His crimson red eyes finally caught sight of the man who had pulled them into the thick brush. Calm and calculating sea-colored eyes glanced at Gilbert before peeking through the spaces in their cover. Long blonde hair trailed down the man's black-clad back, a few leaves tangled in here and there.
The thundering of their pursuers passed directly in front of them. Peter tensed in Gilbert's arms while the two adults watched with differing degrees of tension. It was hard to tell just how long they waited after the storm of people passed before the blonde man pushed his way from the brush and motioned for Gilbert to follow.
Gilbert followed after their mysterious savior, his eyes watching the back of the head of blonde hair, "Vati, I—"
"I know," the deep voice cut him off as his father slowed down enough for Gilbert to catch up. He looked over his son quickly, checking for injuries. When he found none, he nodded.
Gilbert tilted his head, honestly confused, "Vait. You knew?"
The older man nodded once again, "And I arranged for a ship to take you from here."
Gilbert stopped walking, crimson eyes genuinely confused. He slanted his lips and caught up again since his father had yet to stop walking. "Vati, you do realize that Romulus isn't going to be happy about you helping us escape, ja?"
"Romulus isn't going to find out," the older man responded simply, "If you would stop talking and keep moving, I wouldn't be seen with you anyway." Still, the fact that he was actually talking a decent bit let Gilbert realize that his father wasn't exactly calm at the moment.
Peter's eyes widened, "You're Aldrich?" The older blonde gave a curt nod. "Gilbert! You never told me your papa is Romulus' bodyguard!"
Gilbert grinned, "Vould you have trusted me if I did?"
Peter huffed and crossed his arms in a pout, but he didn't deny it. The trio walked silently from then on until the tropical vegetation gave way to a sandy beach. Gilbert paused for a minute when his eyes feel on the rather large ship waiting out on the ocean. Oh, he'd seen ships before, but how long had it been since he'd been trapped on that island…? Years? Decades? Centuries? No, it couldn't be that long. Could it? The curse did tend to warp time…
"Are those… humans?" Peter asked, pointing to the figures leaning against a small raft on the beach. A naturally tanned man was currently cooing to what looked to be a small turtle. His dark hair was windblown and messy underneath a plumed hat, and his dark red, gold trimmed coat looked as though it was too thick for the tropical weather. A pair of tall black boots rested near his bare feet. The other, shorter man was obviously not as happy as the one cooing to the turtle, and his curses could be heard from the several meters that separated them from the trio of new arrivals. A rather noticeable curl bounced benieth his black bandana as he yelled and threatened the hatted man. He was dressed in a slightly less extravigent, but still pirate-like outfit more suited for the heat of the Joker Island.
Gilbert blinked all of three times before he carefully set Peter back on his feet and ran towards the men in the boat. "Toni!" he called, waving his hand as his black-booted feet hit the ground. Could it really be…? He hadn't aged hardly at all... Time really was warped behind the magic veil that sepperated Jokers and humans.
Green eyes looked down from the turtle to the new arrivals. The shorter man stopped yelling to stare blatantly at the albino running to them. "W-What is…? How…? Antonio?" he stammered, his skin paling slightly, "Is that…?"
"Gilly!" Captain Antonio Fernandez Carriedo called back with a rather large grin on his face as the albino stopped in front of him, "I knew you were too awesome to just keel over, amigo! I wonder who it was that saved you, though… Oh well! Oh! Hola Aldrich! I made it here just like you told me. Since you're all here, I guess this is the right place, huh? It was kind of weird because Lovi was the only one who could see this place until we his the beach."
Gilbert turned back to look over his shoulder at Aldrich who didn't look too thrilled about the pirate captain's loudness. "You called Toni?" he asked with a lopsided smirk.
Aldrich nodded when he and Peter found themselves in front of Antonio. "Hurry and go; I'll lead the others down a wrong trail," he instructed.
Peter didn't need to be told twice; he hopped in the boat, eliciting a line of curses from the other pirate for nearly tipping the boat. Gilbert turned to face his Vati. "You could come, too, you know," he pointed out.
Aldrich shook his head, "I have my reasons for staying."
Gilbert slanted his lips, "He isn't going to stop, Vati. That's vhy you're helping me get back."
"Hey, Gilly, I think we need to get going before the magic snaps back and you get stuck again," Antonio warned cheerfully.
"I will see you if the war begins," Aldrich stated before clapping an awkward hand on his son's shoulder, "Protect Ludwig."
Gilbert nodded, sensing the finality in Aldrich's words. "Vell, if you don't vant to join the awesome party, it's not my fault," he decided. Aldrich shook his head, but there was a hint of humor in his eyes. He lifted his arm and began his way back into the underbrush.
Gilbert watched him for a moment before he climbed into the boat. Antonio grinned and pushed it into the water, the ends of his tan pants darkening from the ocean's gentle waters before he hopped in next to the shorter pirate, Lovino, and Gilbert. Lovino seemed to have finally regained his usual skin tone and had taken to leering at Gilbert with crossed arms, "What's the matter, potato-breath? Too annoying for even the Reaper?"
"Now, Lovi, that's not nice," Antonio chided in a voice that was nearly a song. Of course, that was enough to start a whole new line of curses spoken in a mixture of three languages followed by a painful looking head-butt.
Gilbert leaned his head back and let lose a loud laugh that he hadn't heard from himself in years. He was free, and that was enough… for now.
Now all he had to do was prepare four nations for a war they couldn't possibly win. But, hey, Gilbert was awesome; that was nothing. Crimson eyes watched the tropical forests of the Joker Island slowly shrink into the distance with each motion of the oar in his friend's hand.
Freedom was, indeed, sweet.
Whew. Long chapter. :P Anyway, I hope that turned out better than I think it did . *is not too happy with it*I'll have to keep looking for a beta 'cause I really don't feel like I do a good job looking over my own stuff. Well, at least you all have been introduced to the plot line now~ Hopefully that cleared up the issue I got on one of my reviews…
I'd put down a little information here, but I think I'll wait to introduce how the Clubs monarch functions for the next chapter since that's when the Jack and Queen are introduced, and I can't really put anything down on the Jokers without ruining some of the surprises. :P Oh! But I can put down a bit about pirates in this story.
Pirates (in this story, anyway) in the Four Kingdoms are actually, for the most part, recognized by the laws of the Kingdoms. They function more like sea-based mercenaries and hired explorers, and they are often contracted by a monarch to take down an enemy nation's ships or look for new territory. They aren't exactly suitless as they fly the colours of whatever nation is currently contracting them, but they're about as close as anyone can legally get without being a Joker. Pirates are quite highly regarded in both Hearts and Spades, since both kingdoms have a long history of using pirates in war. Diamonds has mixed feelings over them, and Clubs only enlists pirate aid when they have no other choice for the most part.
Anyway, in case it wasn't obvious:
Romulus = Ancient Rome
Aldrich = Germania
I read a few stories with those names and I kind of got attached to referring to them as such. :P
Translations (Feel free to point out anything wrong with these. .)
Да. Я могу = Yes. I can
Удачи = Good luck
Добрый вечер = Good evening
Und = and
Vati = father
Ja = yes
Hola = hello
