The battle progressed with difficulty, with their spirits drained.

Norway had been the most severely impacted by the revelation. Mathias had to continuously remind him, shouting over his shoulder, to pay attention and look out for the Frost Men's advance.

He didn't need to be told what to do, especially from the idiot Dane. Of course he knew that defending the hotel was of the utmost importance. He knew that already one side had been breached, and if another side were to go next, their only safehaven would disappear, and they'd be overrun.

He knew all that, and yet . . . he felt obligated to throw down his weapon and look for Emil at the same time. He needed to be certain, to be reassured, that his brother was okay.

Between all the fighting, there was a small interval of freedom. Mathias jogged over with a worried expression.

"Hey, Lukas," he said. "You've been rather out of it. You all right?"

"I'm fine," Lukas bit out. "Get back to where you were. The sooner this is over with, the sooner we can go look for Emil, Berwald and Tino."

"If you're stressed, I can take over for a bit. I'm barely winded."

"I don't need your help!" he snapped. "I'm perfectly fine on my own! Leave already!"

As usual, Mathias wasn't affected by the tone of the Norwegian's voice, but Lukas rarely got angry and raised his voice. Mathias wasn't that oblivious. He could tell when someone was despairing.

"We'll find them," he stated strongly. "You'll see. They'll turn up."

He returned back to this post without hearing Lukas's reply. In fact, Lukas couldn't find anything to say.

The numbers on the east side were waning. Even still, Ludwig's explosives supply was running low.

And that wasn't even the worst of it. The Frost Men were beginning to figure out that the machine guns were the only things holding them back, so they decided to fan out to destroy them.

The good news was the Frost Men were no longer entering the building. Ludwig didn't know exactly why, but at least there was someone out there to take initiative and seal the breaches.

The worse part of it all was that the Frost Men were now heading up onto the top.

Feliciano . . . You better stay safe until I can get to you myself.

Another mine exploded. Ludwig estimated the remaining numbers, and found that the next set of mines needed planting. He grabbed a bin full of them and hauled them out into the open.

Along the way, he came across a Frost Man missing all its limbs, just lying in the remnants of other body parts. Its head was twisted completely 180.

Ludwig braced himself. Anger boiled inside him. Just what were their reasons for doing this in the first place? It was endangering far too many lives!

He wanted to give them a chance to justify themselves. They were intelligent creatures; why would they even run around committing useless murder?

"Why?!" Ludwig yelled. "Why are you doing this?! Innocent people are dead because of you!"

He didn't expect it to answer. He didn't expect it could answer.

But when it projected its thoughts directly into his mind, Ludwig flinched at the ferocity. He couldn't begin to process the words. There were a million different voices harbored into this single being.

Are you humans any different? You kill just for the sake of killing.

Ludwig reinforced his courage. "S-so you're saying you want to bring yourselves down to our level."

Incorrect. I'm speaking specifically to you, Germany, Ludwig Beilschmidt. You have done the world a grave wrong in the past.

Ludwig narrowed his eyes. "What are you saying?"

You are no different from us. You have been a tyrant. You have murdered innocent people. You have caused pain and suffering to families. You hunted your own citizens like animals.

"Shut up." Ludwig pointed his gun in the creature's face. "You don't know me."

Don't I? Am I wrong?

"There is not a single day where I don't regret what I did. I'm spending the rest of the my life atoning for those sins. I'll bear them myself if I have to. Don't misguide yourself into thinking that you can excuse your own personal actions."

Misguide? It is a mere fact. It is not only you who has made such a mistake, but others as well. At least we are not turning our own citizens against each other. You have different people from different heritages in your country. Does that give you a reason to slaughter them? Because of what? That you believed you were the SUPERIOR race? You are weak, Germany.

Ludwig grounded his incisors. "Everyone makes mistake, I'll admit that. I've made a horrible mistake that day. I shouldn't have let Adolf continue his rule. But today, things are different. Today, by bringing that up, you've made me angry. Now you're going to pay for it."

The Frost Man had the nerve to laugh. Pay?

If such monsters were capable of sarcasm, this one was doing a fine job succeeding at it.

Pay, you say. I may have lost my body, but that does not stop my brethren from finishing the job. My consciousness would simply float elsewhere and join with them.

Now hear this, Germany: History will repeat itself eventually. The cycle will continue again, over and over. That is because you nation-people never learn. You never learn from your past mistakes, and you threaten to tear each other apart every century. That is why, while you think you have realized your mistakes, you will always commit them one day, again. There is no end to bloodshed. That is what we are teaching you now.

"Is that really what you think?"

We know this. Mother has watched you grow over the few millennia. She has watched you prosper, fall, cheat, lie, enforce, control, and inflict fear. She knows none of you have changed. How many wars have you caused, Germany?

That was enough talk. He feared that if he continued to let the monster piss him off, he'd do something he'd really regret. Germany shot the Frost Man through the head and lowered the pistol to glare down at the unmoving body.

"You have no idea what I went through during those years. One side of me was constantly running away from the other side of myself, struggling to stay alive. My brother and I were forced to separate. And yet, despite all that, my superior disapproved. He knew my nature, he knew this was bound to happen. He locked me up for days, while all that time, I was kept in the pitch darkness, wondering the exact reasons why there was a war . . . Do not think you can begin to understand me."

I surrender! I surrender!

Italy desperately waved his white flag.

"Feliciano!" Elizabeta barked disapprovingly. "What are you doing? Put that down!"

"But—but—but—"

"No buts! We're not surrendering!"

"But there's so many!"

"I told you no buts!"

Feliciano giggled. "You said butts."

Elizabeta considered smacking him over the head with her sword. "Where did you get that anyway?"

"I kept it in my coat. I always bring one just in case."

"Feliciano . . ."

"Eh, we don't have time for this!" Matthew spoke urgently. "The two of you: focus!"

Elizabeta and Feliciano brought their attention back to the matter at hand.

"We have a problem," said Matthew.

"Of course we do."

"I can only electrocute this building one more time if we want to have electricity left for the transmitter. That means we need to make the next shock count."

"You mean, afterwards, we'd have virtually nothing to defend ourselves with?" asked Feliciano.

"That's right."

Feliciano flailed his white flag. "I surrender! I surrender!"

"That's not going to work, Feli," said Elizabeta.

"You never know. White flags are universal!"

"What would Germany say if he were here?"

Feliciano opened his eyes. He ve'd quietly. Elizabeta swore this was the first time she'd seen him open his eyes properly. He had the same beautiful amber colour like his brother.

"He probably won't like me acting cowardly," Feliciano spoke, lowering his flag. "He'd make me run twenty laps just for waving one. He'd probably confiscate all my pasta ingredients for two hours. He'd—"

"Two hours?"

"Er, yeah. In Italy, we eat later in the day, in large bounties. So lunch time and dinner time is pretty close."

"I thought you ate whenever."

"Eat, sleep, run. What's the difference?"

Their conversations served to calm his own nerves. Matthew held the live wires two inches apart from each other, ignoring the way his hands trembled. The newest battalion of Frost Men clambered onto the roof and surrounded them in a circular formation, as if they were about to perform some ancient rites.

"Make this count," Elizabeta said.

Matthew didn't need to be told twice. He bent down and pressed the wires to the metal roof. Immediately the circuit connected and electrified the Frost Men. Those still climbing up fell off again. The ones gathered on the roof surface collapsed.

A few dozen buildings around them went dark. The streetlights on 5th avenue blew out. The city plunged deeper into the dawning night.

Matthew stood. "That's it. We're on our own now. Every man for himself."

"No . . ." Feliciano stared into empty space. "There's got to be something else, right, Matthew? There's got to be something else you can do!"

Matthew shook his head sadly. "The only thing we can do is make sure everything's prepared when Alfred gets here. When he'll get here, I have no idea. Only time will tell."

But we don't have much time!

"What if Alfred doesn't get up here in time?" asked Feliciano. "What do we do then?"

Elizabeta tossed a Frost Man over the side. "That's simple, Feli. We survive."

It took awhile, but Francis finally found England. The mage was blasting everything in his line of sight. He finished up with the south side and moved on to the east side.

Arthur had been moving in an unpredictable fashion. Francis only took this long because the Englishman was tracing a seven mile radius around the hotel. Yes. It was that far out.

Francis decided to cut him off, so that Arthur would bump into him instead. He stood with his arms crossed as Arthur approached him. The Englishman's eyes glowed fearsomely.

"That's enough, rosbif," Francis said. "Put down the book."

Arthur scowled. "Move aside, Frog."

"Oh." Francis quirked a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "So you're technically still aware of your surroundings."

"Of course I am," Arthur scoffed. "Never will you find me a subject of my own power."

"Then you understand why you should stop. You're putting everyone's lives in danger."

Arthur was stubborn. "I don't take orders from you, Francis. Move."

"If you won't stop, then blast me."

"What?"

"Go ahead," dared Francis. "If you want your revenge so badly, then go ahead and plough right through me."

"I'm not going to kill you. That's a ridiculous notion. Stand down, git. It'll be the worst mistake you'll ever make."

"You're the one who's making the huge mistake here! You're a complete idiote, Arthur!"

"Bloody hell." Arthur readied his wand. "I'll really do it, you know. I'll kill you right here!"

Francis raised his sword. "Go. Ahead."

After ten seconds, nothing happened.

"Exactly," said Francis. "You're a coward. No matter how angry you are, no matter how much you hate me, you cannot bring yourself to kill me. Now stop this, before you do end up killing someone."

"You've got some nerve coming out here alone, just by yourself," said Arthur. "Fortunately, I don't have to kill you. I could always knock you unconscious with a spell."

"Really, now? What's with the sudden mercy? What about back then? What about the things you did during the Hundred Years War?"

"What bollocks are you spouting now, Frog?"

"You were playing dirty! What do you think I'm talking about?"

"I know that you're not talking about what you're thinking about."

"What?" Francis shook his head. "Never mind that. It's none of your business."

"Is this about that girl, Frog? Joan, wasn't it?"

"It's Jeanne."

"So what? I thought you were over that."

"I've never been over that. You killed her, Arthur. You burned her to death!"

"Oh, so you coming out here to stop me was all a ruse to cover what you really wanted to talk to me about all this time . . . Well played, Frog. So what now? You going to cut me down?"

"That's not it. I don't blame you."

Arthur lowered his book a tad. "What?"

"I don't blame you," Francis repeated. "In fact, for past few decades, I'd been blaming myself for her capture, and her death. She was turned in by the French traitors. My own people! At the time, I had no power to save her . . . I had been angry at you at first, but that wasn't a viable reason to justify my own actions. It had always been my fault."

"I'd . . . Wasn't me killing Jeanne the reason you hate me? You always said that you bore a grudge against me for this reason."

"I miss Jeanne. But the dead cannot be brought back. It'd be useless to dwell on the past, especially when you're a nation. Times flies by quickly, and not so at the same time. The events that have transpired a hundreds of years ago can seem like it was just yesterday, when in reality, it's the exact opposite."

While Francis had been speaking to Arthur about Jeanne, he'd been taking steps closer. Arthur didn't seem to notice this. If he did, he didn't care. Now he stood face-to-face with the Brit.

"Arthur, I ask you again—stop this. You're going to regret what you do if you go through with this."

England gripped his wand. "That story was touching. Really. But I've come this far—I cannot stop now. Apologies, Francis. For the heinous acts I committed towards Miss d'Arc, for the wrongs I've done to you, and for the atrocities that are sure to follow."

Arthur shoved past him. Francis wasn't about to let him escape again—not after all this precious time he wasted to find the Brit. He raised his sword and bashed Arthur over the side of his head with the pommel.

"Non. My apologies."

Arthur spun around in circles before crumpling to the floor. His spell and wand clattered away from his hands, and his magic dissipated into vapour.

Francis sheathed his sword. "It's better if you just lie there, rosbif."

England snored quietly as he slept.

I mean no offense to anyone when I bring up WW2 and its side activities. It's kind of one of Germany's big no-no's and I thought it'd be a great opportunity for character development. It's clear that Germany is still wrapped up and sensitive about it. I want to show that these nations are not fighting just for the world, but for personal reasons. I wanted to show that they know their obligations, no matter how much they want to abandon them for personal reasons.

And it's clear that France has a lot of grudges against England, while England obviously has his own little issues about losing everyone and everything all at once *cough*America*cough*. Although he still has Canada . . . England forgets Canada ever exists sometimes. That's the sad part.