Hey guys, Icewind505 here with a (hopefully) short Author's Note! Okay, so I'm sure that some of you have read this book, its a classic in a sense. It's a somewhat challenging book and really makes you think about the next thing that's going to happen. And yes, it is a murder mystery. However, there is no gore so no need to worry about that to some of the more squeamish readers. Well, enough of my jabbering, let's get on with the story, shall we? Oh, almost forgot, I own nothing in this. Not even the plot really. I just decided to take the characters of my favorite anime and piece them into this book as it fits. Although, it may not always work very well. So, my apologies if I screw this up badly. Oh yeah, and I have a weird way of doing things, so bear with me. I might split a chapter up into different parts like Agatha did except they will be on different chapter pages entirely. You'll see what I mean.

And Then There Were None © Agatha Christie

Hetalia © Himaruya Hidekaz

One

I

In the corner of a first-class smoking carriage, Mr. Berwald Oxenstierna, lately retired from his judicial duties, groggily opened his clear blue eyes, only to find that they had been covered by a newspaper. With a steady hand, the intimidating blonde man removed the paper from his face. It was a copy of The Times, flipped open onto the political news. Interesting article it may be, Berwald had still fallen asleep. His age was catching up to him.

He laid the paper down beside him and looked out the window. They were now running through Somerset. The landscape was a blur as the train roared through. Really, there wasn't much to look at out there. He glanced down at his watch - another two hours of tedious travel. He would have groaned if he had not been the stoic, expressionless man that he was.

Berwald thought over in his mind all that had appeared in the papers about Soldier Island. There had been its original purchase by an American millionaire by the name of Alfred F. Jones who was crazy about yachting - and an account of the luxurious modern house he had built on this little island off the Devon coast. The unfortunate fact that the new third wife of the American millionaire was a bad sailor had led to the house and island being put up for sale. Various advertisements about it had appeared in the paper, all a bit too extravagant in this Swede's opinion. Then came the first announcement that it had been bought - by a Mr. Owen. After that the rumors of the gossip writers started and spread like the plague. Soldier Island had really been bought by Miss Gabrielle Turl, the Hollywood film star! She wanted to spend some months there free from all publicity! Busy Bee had hinted delicately that it was to be an abode for Royalty! Mr. Merryweather had it whispered to him that it was indeed for a honeymoon - Young Lord L - had surrendered to Cupid at last! However, Jonas knew for a fact that it had been purchased by the Admiralty with a view to carrying out some hush-hush experiments!

Definitely, Soldier Island was the top of the news!

From his pocket, Berwald drew out a letter. The handwriting was messy and practically illegible (he would have grimaced if not again for his expressionless mask) but words here and there stood out with unexpected clarity. Dearest Lawrence... such years sine I heard anything of you... must come to Soldier Island... the most enchanting place... so much to talk over... old days... communion with nature... bask in sunshine... 12.40 from Paddington... meet you at Oakbridge... and his correspondent signed herself with a flourish his ever Constance Culmington.

Mr. Oxenstierna racked through his brain to try and recall anything of his last encounter with Lady Constance Culmington. It must have been seven - no, eight years ago. Blast his failing memory. She had then been going to Italy to bask in the sun and be at one with Nature and the contadini, whatever that meant. He was Swedish, not Italian. Later, he had heard, she had proceeded to Syria where she proposed to bask in a yet stronger sun and live at one with nature and the bedouin, which, yet again, Berwald had never heard of. The woman was a bit strange in his opinion, nevertheless, he never questioned nor made a statement against her. It was against his principles as well as his nature.

Constance Culmington, he reflected to himself, was exactly the sort of woman who would buy an island and surround herself with mystery! Nodding his head in a gentle approval of his logic, Berwald gazed outside of the window, deep, mysterious blue eyes becoming shrouded as he thought...