HETALIA BELONGS TO HIDEKAZ HIMARUYA
The wax tablet was found during the clearing of an old housing complex in order to start the construction of an office building in Bristol. As soon as it appeared, a great interest arouse within the historian circles. The first studies determined that the authorship was quite peculiar an fascinating: it was signed by some of the most powerful nations of the ancient world. Their names were deciphered in the tablet: Persia. Greece. Egypt. China. Germania. Rome.
His grandfather's name being among the signatories encouraged England to hand the finding to one of his direct heirs, Veneciano, not only because there was no one who knew better anything to do with his ancestor than him, but also because, being one of the biggest authorities in ancient art in the whole world, his input would be very useful to decipher the rest of it. Because it turned out to be gibberish to England.
And Veneciano was simultaneously frustrated and pleased at how hard it was being to make some sense out of the symbols in the tablet.
He was so immersed in his task that hours passed by quickly and found himself working under the light of a gooseneck lamp and drinking coffee. He hadn't encountered such a challenge in hundreds of years. He even sent some texts and photos to Greece and Egypt—unsuccessfully, because not even them knew what those symbols were. But Egypt hinted that those might have been pictograms from a time period previous to his mother, grandfather and everyone on the list. Veneciano consulted then his books about the origins of language and almost jumped in happiness finding that those symbols were indeed pictograms, which would evolve into cuneiform writing. With this form of writing in mind, lots of intuition and even more patience, he took a pen and a sheet of paper and started translating. The first attempt took him a lot of time and was too literal and rough, then he spent some time polishing it to find the most coherent sense.
It was around two in the morning when he stopped and read what he had aloud.
"As a punishment for her horrendous crimes, it is decreed that the nation of the rivers of blood must be deprived from her solid flesh and her soul confined in this text, and all her monuments, temples and statues destroyed so her legacy disappears like dust in the wind. Her jarring name will be always forgotten, for it is venomous to the lips. This tablet shall rest underground until the end of times to keep humanity safe."
Well, it had sense. But Veneciano did not feel much satisfied. He had gotten to translate the tablet, but a new question arouse: who was the text talking about? What was this nation which was so terrible the ancient empires decided to destroy completely, even the name?
He held the relic (very carefully, with his gloves on, of course), and stared at it for long.
Who was this nation Grandpa Rome, probably the greatest empire who ever lived, and so many others, enemies even, feared so much he destroyed it like a pest?
China! China was still around! He could ask him. Oh, but what time was it where he lived? Would he annoy him if he asked him? He couldn't resist the temptation and texted him too, but waited for several minutes and China did not reply. He was probably busy. China was always busy with some business.
Perhaps he was too tired or the coffee was too strong. Maybe his mind needed a rest and demanded it sending him hallucinations. But he started to feel like the tablet was whispering to him.
«Do you want to know my name? I will tell you, if you come closer», it seemed to say, a voice in his mind, a murmur in the wind.
Shaking his head, Veneciano switched off the lamp and carefully put the tablet in a case and went to bed. The next day he and England would meet at the Mobile World Congress and would have the chance to tell him about his findings.
"How peculiar..." England would say to his translation. "And I love peculiarities like these! It will be perfect for my Museum! Thank you so much, my friend."
"One of these days, when I have the money, I will buy it from you." Veneciano said, reluctantly handing him the precious object.
"If the offer is good..."
"What I don't understand is why my grandfather never told me about that terrible nation. My nonno never feared anyone, and, knowing him as I knew him, he would have loved to brag."
"Even grandparents have their secrets." England shrugged.
"Hello? Hello? Is this thing working? Good! Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, now that I've got your attention, let me talk about one very important thing we are missing here: micronations."
"Uh, Inghilterra, isn't that Sealand?" Veneciano turned around and pointed somewhere in the distance.
Oh, yes. Unfortunately, the one who was standing on tip toes to speak from the platform, with the whole room looking at him with confusion, was Sealand. Who else could have it been?
"I can't believe this...Sealand!" England rushed towards him.
"Micronations deserve as much respect as renowned nations but rarely receive it. I don't even have Internet at home! We have the right to get 5G and...!"
"I'm very sorry, everyone. I'll take care of this...Come here you..." England grabbed Sealand by an ear and dragged him out of the expo.
"Hey! I haven't finished! It's my turn to speak! You can't interrupt people while they're speaking! Did no one teach you manners?" Sealand protested.
"What about you? It's even ruder to use a mobile congress to push your absurd agenda!"
"Everyone does that!"
"This place is not for you, so go away."
"How am I going to be a good nation if I can't even attend meetings?"
"Don't be silly, you're not even a real nation. You are just the creation of a bunch of lunatics; you are lucky you didn't disappear two weeks after you were born. Your main purpose in life, I'm sure, is being a wart on my butt..."
"I'm not a wart on a butt!"
"No. You're right. Warts don't make noise. I made it clear some decades ago. You are not my problem."
He finally let go of Sealand at the door of the building and came back in to apologize to the host.
His head was so clouded by anger he didn't realize he had the tablet in his hand and now it was in Sealand's, who ran away with it, until some time later.
"He called me a wart on his butt! How could he...? Well, he will see...I'm going to take his precious tablet and ruin it...Then he'll start bawling like 'woooo, I shouldn't have said that to Sealand, he's going to become a delinquent'...Yes...And I'll paint...I'll paint tattoos all over my body! Ugly tattoos! Of naked girls and flaming skulls! No more Mr. Nice Guy! I will become a bad guy, and he will regret not having been nicer to me..."
Sealand interrupted his ranting, gazing at the tablet on his lap and the red crayon in his hand.
He was not a bad boy. He didn't consider him so. He really didn't want to spoil that antiquity...but he wanted England to see he was angry! He wanted him to regret!
He took deep breath. The tip of the crayon was almost touching the surface of the object when he suddenly stopped, when he heard that whisper.
«Do you want your brother to see you, little boy?»
Sealand looked around him, but found himself alone. He shook his head and wanted to do it already, but the voice talked again, so impersonal it seemed it came from his mind, soothing, warm.
«You are so little nobody sees you...They ignore you, despise you, step on you as if you were just a speck of dirt...»
Was...the tablet talking to him? Sealand put the crayon away and approached it to his ear.
"...Are you...talking to me?"
«Yes. I am here, and I see you. I understand you. And I pity you.»
"You do?"
«Yes, I do. The son of the sea shouldn't be ignored as you are now. Your voice should roar like the tempest, your strength be as great as a tidal wave.»
"...I'm Sealand. Who are you?"
«My name is Tul-La. Long time ago, someone bigger than me managed to silence my voice. Your woes have moved me, and I want to help you, so you don't suffer my own destiny. I am very old. I have seen many things. I know old arts which can help you show your true potential, become the great nation that lives inside of you...Do you accept my help?»
"Sure I do, Tul-La. You are so nice. You are the nicest person I've ever met."
«Thank you. You are a good boy. When you finally get the place you deserve on the map...will you help me raise my voice again?»
"Of course I will."
«Good. Then come closer, my child.» Sealand gasped, seeing a red glow cover his hands, which made him let go of the tablet and look at them. «Do not be afraid. I am transferring you the little power I have left. With this, you shall do wonders. You will be the most powerful nation that ever lived. Nor your brother nor anyone will ignore you ever again.»
Sealand was soon convinced that the halo was not going to hurt him. In fact...It felt good. He had never felt so much energy inside of him, so much confidence...
Yes. He felt like he could do anything at all!