Okay, it's been much longer than I originally planned. First, I participated in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) during November, where you write fifty thousand words for a novel, all in one month. So for the majority of November I had no time to write fanfiction, since I was putting the majority of my effort into churning out 1667 words for my bizarre speculative fiction story, every - single - day. All while trying to keep up my grades, and score well in the college math class I was taking. Good news - I maintained my 4.0. Bad news - free writing suffered as a result.
Then came December. Halfway through the month, I finished Math 102. I then finally had time to dig up Chapter Ten of this story and begin slogging through it again. However, I was suddenly faced with a brand new problem.
Doomsday.
No, not really. I never believed those wacky, "The Mayans say the world is ending in 2012 so we're all gonna die," theories anyway. I'm actually referring to Christmas. I love the Christmas season, but it's hectic and busy, especially in my family. Please pardon the long delays - hopefully I'll be able to get the next chapter up sooner.
Also, in response to DeadNotSleeping, (yes, I got the reference,) I know there are far more suggestive musicals than Dr. Horrible. Still, since this is a K+ story, I don't like to endorse anything that isn't relatively family friendly, and, while Dr. Horrible is, for the most part, pretty tame, there are a few things in it that made me cringe (particularly some of Captain Hammer's lines). As a Christian, the last thing I want is to do or say anything that contradicts my faith, so I thought I would put a little warning, for safety's sake.
I don't really have a song for the whole chapter, but I will say this: Listen to the Mission: Impossible theme during Prussia's scene down in the lobby. It makes the whole thing 20% awesomer.
Oh, and I don't own Hetalia. Just in case y'all were wondering.
The plan was working, and America was on the edge of his seat with excitement. It was working, and even better than he could have envisioned.
Over the past hour, nations had pitched ideas, discussed them, agreed upon them, and generally been very productive. No arguments whatsoever. It was almost a little boring, but boredom was a definite improvement from complete anarchy.
Everyone was so busy putting out ideas on how they could help everyone else, America didn't have much time in the spotlight. That was okay, too, of course. He wasn't doing this for the spotlight. He was doing this because it was a heroic thing to do.
Then, around lunchtime, things took a slight turn for the worse.
"I think it isn't right that some countries have so much more money than others," Switzerland said all of a sudden. "I propose that we divide everything equally, so everyone has a fair share."
"Excellent idea," China said. "We should split up the money among all the nations. That way it will be fair."
America flinched at the direction the conversation was heading. "B-But that's like communism! We can't do that!"
"I think it sounds good. All in favor?" England asked.
"W-Wait a second," America said, hoping to stall the vote. "How much would each nation get, d'ya think?"
Switzerland punched some numbers into a handy calculator. "With my current estimates, each country should end up with... approximately 15.5 billion euros, give or take a few million."
America didn't want to try to convert that one in his head. "Can someone translate that to American money for me?"
"Just over twenty billion U.S. dollars," England said after a minute or so of furious calculations and conversions. "It's about twelve and a half million British pounds."
At the words 'twenty billion U.S. dollars', America's radar went up. To not only be out of debt, but to be above bankruptcy by twenty billion dollars…
But no. This was not capitalism. This particular 'ism' was the furthest thing from 'capital'. This was not how government was supposed to be run.
"Did you say… 20 billion dollars…?" America asked weakly, feeling as though someone had placed a delicious hamburger in front of him, but said that he couldn't eat it unless he renounced democracy.
"It sounds fair to me," England said. "It will be easier to maintain good diplomatic relations if everyone has the same amount of money. Then no one can be accused of using their funds to sway proper diplomacy."
"It's always good to share what you have with others," the normally stingy Austria agreed.
Sharing. Sharing was good, right? So was unhindered diplomacy. If money gave some people an unfair advantage over others, then why shouldn't everyone just have the same?
But… democracy… His precious capitalism, that had served him so well since his founding… It was what set him apart from the other nations, what made him a world superpower, what made him a hero…
Then again, his boss would be thrilled if America came home from the world conference saying he'd fixed the problem of the national debt. America might even get another national holiday. He loved national holidays. Everyone was so patriotic and happy, and there was always food involved…
Oh, why was it that crises of conscience always made him hungry?
Sealand was bored. After some security guard had yelled at him for trying some apparently disruptive tricks with his neon green, light-up yo-yo, he had been left with nothing to do.
"What do we do now, Hana?"
"Ruff!"
Sealand sighed. "Hotel lobbies are boring. Maybe I should walk around outside for a little while. I'm a nation, I can take care of myself." He stood and walked toward the big revolving glass doors. "Come on, Hana." The little white dog followed obediently.
It was a beautiful day outside, complete with bright sunshine illuminating the busy streets and shops. Lively chatter swirled through the air, melting into obscurity by the time it reached the young micronation's ears.
"It really is a great day to be seeing the city," Sealand commented. "Let's go, Hanatamago, we can do some exploring and be back before the meeting is over."
Sealand's excitement faltered when he realized that there were a lot of people out today. A lot of busy, rowdy people that weren't paying the least bit of attention to a small boy and an even smaller dog. Sealand had to be very careful not to run into anyone.
"Stay close, Hana," Sealand instructed. "I don't want you getting lost."
Sealand maneuvered through the sea of people, looking for something to hold his interest. He didn't have any money with him, so he couldn't buy anything, or pay to take a bus or taxi anywhere. Where ever he went, he was going to have to walk.
A taxi barreled down the street, horn blaring. Suddenly, to Sealand's shock, the back door flung open. A man's frantic voice pierced the air.
"…listen, I'm positive that was it! Stoppen sie hier! Nein, I want to get out!" The cab finally reached a jerky, but complete, stop, a few yards short of Sealand. "Ja, danke," the voice grumbled, not entirely sincere.
Sealand watched as a frazzled young man all but fell out of the back seat and onto the sidewalk, pulling a bulky blue backpack out with him. A little yellow bird flew out of the cab behind him, and flitted around the man's head, chirping sporadically. Obviously dazed, the man looked up at the hanging banner that heralded the name of the hotel.
"Yes, this is… right place, I am sure of it," the man muttered in broken, accented English. "Hotel Carson, the place of diesjährigen World Conference." He stood, swaying slightly, then turned back around to face the taxi. He stooped to the level of the driver's window, resting his arm on the roof of the taxicab. "Vielen dank, Sir. You have been awesome, even with the mild language barrier and the fact that you're obviously part Italian. Auf Wiedersehen, and good luck on that promotion."
Had he said something about the World Conference? Why would he be looking for that? Only nations were invited to those.
Unless… this man was also a nation.
But Sealand didn't know of any nations who weren't already at the World Conference. Everyone had been present at roll call, except for Slovakia, who was supposedly in bed with a cold. Sealand had not yet met Slovakia, but he didn't think that this man was him.
This man… this man was unlike anyone Sealand had ever seen. He had very pale, very messy hair, with equally pale skin - how he kept from getting sunburned Sealand had no idea - and he was wearing what looked to be an old-fashioned military uniform (complete with feathered hat) that sort of looked like England's pirate outfit that he kept in the back of his closet, only this man's jacket was a very bold shade of blue.
The taxi drove off, and the pale man in blue straightened up. He proclaimed something rather loudly and enthusiastically in his native tongue. The only words Sealand could catch (and then attempt to translate) were 'yes', 'good' and 'car'.
The man had a certain presence about him that lent itself to authority, and something else, too… something that reinforced Sealand's belief that this man was a nation.
But no, not quite. This man had a different sort of natural atmosphere, one that reminded Sealand of the feeling he got when he saw Wy, or one of the other micronations.
Hmm…
Wait a second. What if this man was an 'almost-nation', like Sealand and his friends? Yes, he had to be!
"Hey! Mister!" Sealand ran up to the man. "Hey there!"
The pale man turned to face him, expression disoriented and confused. "What do you want?" he asked, deliberately reverting to rough English.
"I… um… I'm the Principality of Sealand, and I wanted to talk to you for a second. Is that okay?" Now that Sealand was closer, he was positive that the man was, like him, a not-quite-nation. The pale man's eyes were ruby red, gleaming with an effervescence that simply could not be human.
The man gave him a long look, before whispering, "Look, kid, I dunno who you are or what you're after, but I'm sort of in a rush. No time for chit-chat."
Sealand stifled a gasp - this man had spoken to him in the shared nation tongue! That meant that, not only was this man at least part nation, he had recognized Sealand as a nation too! This was great!
The man shifted the backpack onto his left shoulder. "See, I have to give some papers to the Czech Republic, and then get out of the hotel - and possibly the country - before my brother really does decide to kill me."
Czech Republic. She was a nation too, which only confirmed Sealand's theory.
"I promise I won't take very much of your time. Like I said, I'm Sealand, and I'm an aspiring country!"
The man raised an eyebrow. "What exactly do you mean by 'aspiring'?"
"Well, most of the countries refuse to recognize me as an official nation. They say I'm too weak and insignificant, or that I really shouldn't exist at all."
"Hey, been there, done that, kid. You're preaching to the choir on that one."
"You mean, you're an aspiring nation too?" Sealand felt a burst of hope.
"Eh, sort of, but it's really more like ex-nation if you want to get technical. I went through dissolution back in the forties, so I'm technically not supposed to even exist anymore, but I'm apparently so awesome the world couldn't bear to lose me."
"Whoa… You survived dissolution?" Sealand was amazed. Even if he wasn't quite sure what dissolution was. It sounded painful, though.
"I did indeed. I'm the awesome - and indestructible - kingdom of Prussia. You're looking at a certified one-of-a-kind pureblood Prussian. There is no one in the entire world quite as amazing as me."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Prussia." Sealand eagerly shook the ex-nation's hand.
"Yeah, yeah, the pleasure's all yours. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to figure out how to find the meeting room and get inside without being stopped by some skeptical security guard."
"I can help you with that!" Sealand volunteered.
"Oh, can you?" For the first time, Prussia looked genuinely interested.
"Certainly! I just came from the meeting, I know right where it's being held!"
"Awesome. Lead the way, kid."
And so, a boy, a man, a dog and a bird all entered the Hotel Carson together. Hana yapped at the bird whenever it tried to land on her head, but other than that the four seemed to get along well. Sealand was fascinated by the yellow bird - 'Gilbird', Prussia called it - and it turned out that Prussia was by no means immune to Hanatamago's powers of adorability.
"Aw, she's so cute… I-I mean awesome. It's an awesome dog you have there. Yeah."
Actually, it was turning out to be an okay day for Sealand. Just when he thought he had no friends left, he made a new one. Two, if you counted Gilbird.
"The meeting is upstairs," Sealand told Prussia. "We can take the stairs or the elevator, whichever you want."
"Wait a second. First, I want a little explanation. What were you doing outside on the street instead of in the meeting? Did Slovakia call and say I was coming?"
"Well, actually, to be honest… I was kicked out of the meeting," Sealand admitted sheepishly, hoping he wouldn't ruin his credit with the Prussian man.
Prussia's eyes lit up. "Really? What did you do? How bad was it? Was anyone hospitalized? Did it involve setting anything on fire? Did you get it on camera?"
"Wh-What? No, it was nothing like that. I wasn't trying to make anyone mad, they just made me leave because Hanatamago escaped and knocked over one of Jerk England's tacky vases."
Prussia scoffed. "That's all? You didn't actually do anything on purpose?"
Sealand shook his head.
"You didn't make a scene? You didn't get to be dragged out kicking and screaming?" Prussia actually looked disappointed.
"No, I just had to come down here because England was really mad at me, and Sweden and Finland didn't think it was a good idea for me to stick around."
"Oh." Prussia looked relatively sympathetic. "Well, that kind of sucks. It doesn't seem fair that they'd make you leave when you didn't actually try to do anything wrong."
"No kidding," Sealand whispered. "This was my first World Conference, and I didn't even get to do anything. Everyone just argued for the longest time over who had put thumbtacks on Russia's chair. We only got through roll call before I got sent down here about an hour ago."
"Only roll call? That's all? Wow, those guys have serious issues when it comes to being productive." He paused. "Wait, did you say someone put thumbtacks on Russia's chair? Gosh, I wish I could have seen that."
Sealand nodded. "Yeah, it was kind of funny, I guess... I felt sort of bad for Russia though, it looked like it hurt a lot."
"Uh, no. I don't think anything can hurt that guy. Have you seen him? He's a frickin' giant!"
"I'm not scared of him," Sealand said, eager to impress. "My friend Latvia is, but I stand up for him when he caves under pressure."
Prussia smiled. "You know, I like you, kid. You've got spunk. How would you like to join my awesome team?"
Sealand frowned, and raised a very British eyebrow. "You have a team?"
"Uh, well... at the moment, it's kind of just me and Gilbird, but I'm actively recruiting new members! It's not very often that I come across anyone who measures up to my awesome standards, but you've definitely got what it takes."
"You really think so?"
"I know so. Now, are you in?"
Sealand grinned. "Principality of Sealand, reporting for duty, Sir!"
Italy wasn't sure what was going on. He didn't think he liked it, though. No one else seemed to notice the strangeness, not even Germany or Japan. Italy was alone in his anxiety.
Italy did not like being alone.
He felt like crying, which was what he usually did when he felt nervous or alone, but he knew that wouldn't help. He just had to wait out this day, and tomorrow everything would be fine. It had to be. It always was. That was how he made it through everything - promising himself that tomorrow would be better. Even if he knew it wouldn't be.
Right now, the other nations were discussing some plan to divide up all the money in the world. Italy wasn't sure how he felt about that. He liked sharing what he had, but this just felt weird. It was one thing to divide up pasta so everyone got an equal share, but money?
Just then, Russia stood up. "I have something to say, if that is all right with everyone else."
"Go right ahead," Germany said.
"I do not think that we should share just money," Russia pronounced evenly. "Many wars have been fought over land. Why should some nations have so little land when others have much? We should divide the land equally, too."
There were murmurs of agreement across the room. Switzerland started making more calculations. America urgently whispered something in England's ear. The Englishman began typing figures into his computer. When he finished, he whispered something back to America. The American gave a horrified shriek.
"What do you mean, all I'll have left is Texas and West Virginia?!"
This kid is pretty cool, Prussia thought to himself. Prussia hadn't yet given him the distinction of awesome - such honors had to be earned - but it certainly wasn't out of the question for the semi-distant future.
"You know, Sealand, you remind me a little of West when he was a kid. Only, you're not as scarily antisocial as he was."
Sealand frowned. "Who's West?"
"My not-so-little brother. Most people call him Germany, though."
"You're Germany's big brother?" Sealand gaped in astonishment.
"I am indeed. I taught him everything he knows. Well, except for the lameness and the affinity for detail. He picked that stuff up on his own."
"Wow… I can't believe you're really Germany's brother… Do you two get along?"
Prussia forced a laugh. "Aw, sure, we're close as can be…" It was mostly true. If you ignored the halfhearted death threats and the frequent verbal sparring matches, the two were practically inseparable. Prussia loved his brother to death (sometimes almost literally), but he did wish that West would lighten up every once in a while. West was so uptight sometimes; it nearly drove Prussia up the wall.
"My big brother's a jerk," Sealand said offhandedly.
"He is? Who is he; do I know him?"
"It's England."
Prussia suppressed a chuckle. "Ah. I see."
"He won't recognize me as a country, and whenever I'm at his house he makes me do whatever he says! Like, I have to have good manners and everything!"
"I know, right?" Prussia agreed. West was exactly the same way. 'Be polite, Prussia. Be home by curfew, Prussia. Wash behind your ears, Prussia. Blah, blah, blah.' Prussia hated it. "It sucks when someone is always bossing you around like you're a little kid."
Sealand nodded eagerly. "Yes! All his rules drive me crazy! I can't stand it sometimes!"
"Neither can I! And he acts like he couldn't care less about you most of the time, but when he leaves you alone he just has to make a list of rules and regulations to completely govern your existence, because, 'I want you to be safe, Prussia'," he said, rolling his eyes and making quote marks in the air with his fingers. "Yeah, right."
"It doesn't make any sense," Sealand said. "It's like he wants to be my brother and order me around, but he's too ashamed of me to actually treat me fairly."
"Yes! A-And does he pull the 'my house, my rules' card on you?"
"All the time! If I'm watching TV at his house, and something good is on, he'll come in during the most exciting part and change the station, so he can watch something boring, like the news!"
Prussia had just found a new venting buddy, and boy, did it feel awesome to rant about West to someone who understood. "And he'll yell at you for eating too much junk food, even though he's the one who didn't take the time to cook anything edible!"
"Oh my gosh, yes!" Sealand cried. "We always have to have what he wants to eat, which, by the way, is usually disgusting. But if I try to pour something else on it, to cover the taste, he yells at me!"
"Exactly!" Prussia cried. "And he won't even let you put maple syrup on wurst!"
Sealand blinked. "What?"
"Uh, nothing…"
There was a long silence.
"Did you want me to show you the meeting room?"
"Oh, right," Prussia said. He'd almost forgotten about that.
The two meandered through the hotel lobby, and were almost to the elevator, when-
"May I help you?" It was a prim, tight-lipped woman in a spiffy hotel uniform. Her nametag read 'Cheryl - Hotel Manager'. She didn't sound particularly eager to help at all.
"Uh, no thank you, we are just heading up to the annual World Conference," Prussia said. "No biggie, we'll find it ourselves, but, danke trotzdem."
"Do you have authorization to enter the Conference?" The woman seemed suspicious of him. Prussia wondered why - she couldn't possibly know about Operation Scone Elimination, he had worn a ski mask! Unless, of course, his awesome reputation was so widespread that she'd heard of some of his other, more home-based escapades.
"I do!" Sealand piped up. "I'm just bringing my friend upstairs for a few minutes. We'll leave right after that."
"I don't think so," the woman said, taking both Prussia and Sealand by the wrist and pulling them over to the sign-in desk. "I want both of your names, and your reason for being here."
Prussia rolled his eyes. How he despised red tape. "Gilbert Beilschmidt, ma'am." He put a bit of sarcasm into the last word. "I am here to deliver important papers to the personification of the Czech Republic."
"I'm Peter," Sealand said. He fished in the pockets of his trousers, pulling out a yo-yo, a key and a bit of lint. "I've got my conference card in here somewhere…" He trailed off. "Oh, wait, Fin and Sve took it so it wouldn't get lost… Whoops."
Okay, so that was out. Prussia racked his brain for any immediate leverage. He remembered how awed Sealand had been when Prussia mentioned his relation to Germany. Being a brother figure to the uncharismatic blond was not very high on Prussia's list of bragging points, but if it got him upstairs…
"Lady, I'm Germany's older brother! That's got to count for something, right?"
The manager looked at Prussia over the top of her glasses. "I spoke with the personification of Germany in person when he arrived this morning, and I can say with utmost certainty that you do not look at all like him."
"Well..." Prussia considered this. "No, admittedly, I don't. But that doesn't mean we're not siblings! I'm just as good as his big brother, I raised him from childhood! Call up to the meeting room and ask him, he'll..." Prussia trailed off. He wasn't sure he wanted Germany to know Prussia was here just yet. He would rather dash in, make a brief commotion, give Czech her papers, and dash out. If he was fast enough, he might even manage to avoid Germany's all-seeing eyes (and, more importantly, his all-bruising fists) entirely.
"He'll what?" the woman asked suspiciously.
"On second thought... You might want to hold on that call..."
"I see…"
Suddenly, Prussia was struck with an idea. He looked down at Sealand, who, Prussia realized for the first time, was the spitting image of a tiny England. "Sea, you said you were England's little bro, right?"
"Unfortunately," Sealand replied.
"All right then!" Without warning, Prussia picked up Sealand and set him on the desk. "Here, my dear manager lady! I have England's little brother, and he demands to go upstairs and see his older sibling!"
Sealand looked confused, but played along, making his voice appropriately childish and pathetic. "Um... right! I really want to see my big brother Engwand, Miss Manager... Pwease, can I go see him...?"
The manager frowned. "Well... I'll admit, he certainly looks like Mr. England... But... what country does he represent, exactly?"
"He is the Principality of Sealand!" Prussia declared. "England left him in my capable hands this morning, but the boy was just positively heartbroken - having to be separated from his brother, you know how it is - so I brought him here!" He forced a quasi-sincere smile.
She didn't look convinced. "Sir, I would advise you to spare yourself any further embarrassment and leave before I call security."
Shoot. Was there no way to convince this woman that he was on the level?
Prussia brought out the pleading doe eyes that he normally reserved only for West. "Please, Miss… Could you just do a poor guy a favor?"
The hotel manager huffed. "The Hotel Carson does not make a habit of doing favors for German punks, Sir."
Prussia bristled up in self-righteous indignation. "H-Hey, I'm not a punk! I was born looking like this, thank you very much!"
"I'm sorry," she said, sounding more scornful than apologetic.
"Yeah, I'll bet," Prussia grumbled. "And I'm not German, either, for your information. I'm Prussian. More specifically, I'm the personification of Prussia."
The woman looked genuinely confused. "Prussia? Where's that?"
Prussia deflated instantly. Every time someone showed that they didn't know who he was, he suddenly felt tired, like his energy was zapped by the very fact that they didn't believe in his existence.
"Well, I'm... not technically a country anymore. But I was a country, up until 1949!"
"Sir, if you aren't a country, then I cannot admit you to the meeting. I have strict orders from England not to let anyone inside who isn't on the list of invited nations."
Prussia stood up to his full height. "Well then, you leave me no choice!" He unsheathed his rapier. "En garde!"
The woman looked appalled, maybe even a little frightened. "Is that a sword?"
Prussia glanced down at the sharp blade. Probably too long for him to try to pass it off as a letter opener. "…Maybe?"
"I cannot allow you to have that while on the premises." She held out her hand, probably expecting him to hand it to her.
Heh. As if.
The woman then narrowed her eyes at Gilbird. "We also have a 'No birds' policy, sir."
Prussia put his hands on his hips. "Wait, you let Sealand bring in his dog, but I can't take my little bird?"
The woman peered over the desk, eyes narrowing. "Dog?"
Oh, crap.
Sealand tried to hide Hana by standing in front of her, but it didn't work.
"I'm calling security," she said, picking up the phone. "I don't even want to count how many statute violations there are between the two of you."
Prussia, realizing that negotiations were useless at this point, channeled his inner strategist. He pretended that this was the Franco-Prussian war, the boy beside him was an uncharacteristically loquacious West, and the scowling lady was the French army.
No, France wasn't scary enough. Try Russia.
"For Königsberg!" Prussia cried. Hopefully this would confuse the woman long enough for Prussia to think of a plan.
Then, he saw it. A key-like thing, sitting on the manager's side of the desk.
There was a piece of white tape on the top, with two words, scrawled in hasty blue pen ink.
Elevator key.
Perfect…
"Sorry, Miss, but I need to borrow this for a second." Prussia leaned over and snatched the key with expert precision. "Important nation stuff, you understand." He grabbed Sealand by the hand and yanked him toward the elevator.
"W-Wait! Come back here! You can't take that!" She looked angry, to say the least. Prussia wished he had a camera handy, just so he could take a picture of her face.
As he sprinted across the lobby with Sealand, Gilbird and Hanatamago in tow, Prussia started to laugh. This was what he called fun. And he hadn't even broken any of West's pointless rules! Well, except for the 'Don't do anything to get yourself arrested', one, but technically, he would only get arrested if he got caught, right?
Don't get caught. That was Prussia's main objective. Second, and only slightly less important, was 'Get into the elevator before the door closes'.
"Let's go, Sealand! We have a mission to carry out!"
"Right-o!" Sealand cried. "Atta girl, Hana, this way!"
The next ten seconds went by in a blur. Coherent thoughts were all but nonexistent until Prussia and Sealand were both safely on the elevator, with the doors closed. Hana was squirming in Sealand's arms, and Gilbird was flying around and around the small, boxy space, tweeting persistently.
"Man, that was a close one," Prussia said when he could breathe again. He honestly hadn't had this much fun in years. "Now, why couldn't I have gotten you for a little brother?" he asked, putting his arm around the smaller personification. Germany got hives at the mere mention of adventure.
"You know… I do have an elevator key," Sealand said softly. He pulled it out of his pocket and held it up for Prussia to see. "How do you think I got down to the lobby?"
Prussia felt like banging his head against the wall of the elevator. "Oh. Well, tell me that next time, before I decide to steal one from a temperamental hotel manager."
"Sorry. I didn't know you were going to take hers."
"No problem. It's cool. I'll just give her the key right back once we're done. No harm, no foul, right?"
"I guess not…"
The elevator doors slid open at the fifth floor.
Sealand pointed down the hall towards a set of double doors. "The conference room is this way."
"That way? Okay, let's do this thing."
"Wait!" Sealand cried. "I… really don't want Hana escaping again. England would get even more angry at me."
"Well, I can take care of that for you…" Prussia fished around in his backpack, until his hand closed around a piece of sturdy rope. He took the rope, unwound it, and slid it through the buckle on Hanatamago's collar, tying it in a knot.
"There!" Prussia beamed. "Instant leash!"
"Ruff!" Hana barked, in what Prussia assumed to be a show of approval.
"Good girl." Prussia turned to Sealand. "You ready?"
"Yes, sir!"
"Excellent!" Prussia flashed a charismatic grin. "Come on, kiddo, let's go give those dreary losers something to talk about for years to come."
This was going to be awesome.
- Translations -
German
Stoppen sie hier - Stop here
Diesjährigen - This year's
Vielen Dank - Thank you very much
Danke trotzdem - Thanks anyway
Ah, the plot thickens… (I've always wanted to say that.)
What America fails to realize is that the twenty billion dollars is a percentage of all the money in the world, including the money his own citizens already possess. America would have to give up all that money, before getting the twenty billion dollars in return. Given that the American population is over three hundred million people, each person would then have, to their name, about 65 dollars, give or take. And that's leaving the gaping national debt completely untouched. So yeah, not seeing any new national holidays in your future, America.
The land bit took a while to calculate. There's about 57,506,000 square miles of land on earth (not all of it is inhabitable), and there are a little less than 200 countries in the world. So, each country gets a little more than 290,000 square miles. America is 3,794,000 square miles, so that deal is really bad for him.
Why is Prussia dressed in his old military uniform, you ask? For effect, naturally. One does not simply burst into the World Conference wearing grungy sweatpants and a beer-stained t-shirt. Admittedly, the sword may have been a bit much. Did he really think they would let him through security with that thing?
My personal headcanon is that there must be some sort of special language that personifications use when speaking to each other, because there is no way that they all just happen to speak English (or Japanese, for that matter). Not to mention, there would be major translation issues during meetings if they didn't have a language they all knew.
The city of Königsberg was the capital of Prussia up until 1701, when the official capital was moved to Berlin. During WWII, Königsberg was taken by the Russians, and is now called Kaliningrad.
On a completely different note, what do you all think of a chapter (or even just part of a chapter) from Hana's and/or Gilbird's point of view at some point? Just to change it up a little. Review and tell me what you think. Also, feel free to give your opinion of this chapter. Did I do okay? Anything I could improve on? Any grammatical errors? Translation mistakes? I know I probably don't catch everything grammar-wise, and my German is still far from perfect.
Merry Christmas, everyone! May all God's blessings be on you this holiday season!