Many Nations refused to use guns or bombs in their personal fights. Modern warfare had turned out to be too painful, caused too much death. The eldest among them often wished to forget those cruel battles of recent years, wished to remain in the glory of the past. But of course, there were so many whose lives had been lived completely in the era of bullets and gunpowder, of missiles and rockets. They could find no rest. It could also be said, neither could the ones who had lived before then.
Winter's cold energy thrashed in the air. Lithuania defensively held his sword up against the spirit, though such a weapon would be useless. Frost formed on the cold metal, and the peasant woman recoiled in horror.
"You, warrior, who are you to command a demon?" she accused, eyes casting a hateful glare on Mongolia.
"Foolish girl. I do not command Winter. He and I are, you could say, allies. And victory is upon us! Follow!" He turned, his frost-specked cloak whirling around.
The fearsome warrior strode through the snow. Liet, Poland, and the woman walking cautiously behind. Neither Nation fully trusted him, and they both kept alert. The sky seemed to hang perpetually in twilight, causing dark shadows to be cast across the ground.
What is he planning? Conquering Russia would be an impossible task... but if he's successful.. This could be good. We were once powerful, Poland and I. Those days were so beautiful...
And then Mongolia's warriors came into view. Batukhan watched them with pride, cloak and hair thrashing as Winter whipped through the air. Perhaps two dozen soldiers surrounded Russia, brandishing spears and daggers.
They were in no way organized, but their numbers gave them an advantage over the lone Nation.
Human soldiers against one of our kind? Cowardice!
But Mongolia's men seemed to be succeeding. Although one of their number lay silent in the snow—possibly the source of the scream the three Nations had heard?—the odds were in their favor. Though he had been attacked by surprise, Russia fought well, deflecting many of the warriors' blows with his water pipe. But with so many men against him, his defense would not remain strong for long.
The woman Poland had rescued stared in terror at the soldiers.
"What is the meaning of this, warrior?" she hissed at Mongolia, "Do you lead those men? What are you!"
"Ignorant whore!" Batukhan struck at her with the spear in his hand, sending her tumbling to the ground. She struggled to her feet and fled, narrowly avoiding the blade of his weapon as it came at her a second time.
Poland ran after the girl. No Nation would leave a helpless civilian out in this place alone.
Mongolia sneered. "I fail to see why you are so intent on protecting her. She isn't even one of yours. There are more important things to concern yourself with than those rats you call civilians."
And at that, there was no question as to Lithuania's decision.
"Do you actually believe that, Batukhan? We live... we exist for the sake of our people. You can't betray that fact."
"Softhearted fool! Warriors and kings are important. These scavenging peasants aren't. As empires of the world, we must have conquest!"
Lithuania's voice turned from outraged to cold: "Those 'peasants' created and sustain our lives! Don't tell me that you don't feel every undeserved death, all their anger and fear..." He stopped, fighting emotion, remembering rage and pain...
The Nations' eyes moved to the unfolding battle. The force against Russia had been somewhat depleted by his weapon and skill, yet the remainder seemed to nearly have success in their clutches. Shrieking a victorious battle cry, a dagger-wielding warrior charged at Russia, catching the overwhelmed Nation by surprise, the knife tearing through fabric and flesh. Russia howled in pain...and the air turned to ice.
Winter screamed with fury, scattering frozen crystals through the sky.
"YOU DARE TO HARM MY CHILDREN?"
The enraged spirit whipped through the coldness. Soldiers' clothing was pulled into the restless storm, becoming covered in ice before they could comprehend what was happening. Frightened at this elemental fury, Mongolia's men ran, dragging their downed fellows into the wilderness. Batukhan hissed in rage and prepared to attack Lithuania...
he had been a fool to think that an elemental spirit would take sides
...but found his opponent's sword at his throat within moments.
"The rest of the world has attempted to be somewhat civilized," Lithuania said, certain now that no good could come of Mongolia's machinations. "And we will remain so. Why do you still cling to these methods? Run, now! Follow your warriors!" The threat was unspoken, but absolute. Any retribution placed against Mongolia would be political rather than from a savage blade... but only if he fled with his men. And this he did, running defeated into the dark, chased by Winter's dark and cold stormclouds.
The night was silent but for Winter. The spirit still roared through the air, spiraling around Russia. Flakes of ice sparkled against the blood spilling across the snow.
If Mongolia's ravings had been correct, he had intended for Lithuania to strike the fatal blow. To strike in revenge for so many ages of terror and death. Victory, if that is what it could be called, had been achieved. All that was required was a slash of his sword.
Still unsure, Lithuania approached the injured Nation, expecting to see before him Russia's hated figure. Expecting to see the cruel monster who had controlled his life and people for so very long. The cruel monster with a fondness for beating his subordinates senseless...
Yet all he saw now was an overgrown child in terrible pain.