Hello, PaperDreeam here! First of all, to all of you fellow writers out there, I highly suggest yuo save your work AS OFTEN AS YOU CAN. Really. I just had to rewrite the whole second half (and frankly, I think it was better the first time) because my grandmother's 'laptop' (you know those computer conceived especially for techno illiterates?) had no more battery. Yay. Also, always check your computers charger is actually hooked to electricity before leaving home.
Anywho, i'm using an AZERTY keyboard right now and as the many spelling mistakes show, I am NOT used to it. So LittleBlondCanadianMoose (yes, I still do not approve your name change) TRY PROOFREADING AFTER TYPING OVER TWO THOUSAND WORDS WITH AN AZERTY! I'm a patient person, a very patient person. But everyone has his limits and mine lay at computers who miss F****** right clicks and french keyboards.
Anywho number (This computer doesn't have the 'number' symbol either... Wonder if it resists being thrown against a brick wall?) two, I don't know if you noticed but I drew (*cough* half finished *cough*) a cover art for my story which - thanks to the awesome change to the website - has been uploaded on fanfiction :D !
Anywho number (I AM CALM) three, this was supposed to take a single chapter... but...
Canada was really starting to doubt the strength of England's secret services, especially after the latter mixed up blueprints and infiltrated Italy's house with the plan of Taiwan's. Not to mention, why the maple did he have a plan of the young asian island? Fortunately, with his years of experience, the North American nation had learnt how to handle different types of personalities and England was definitely not the kind of guys whose motives one should question. But what could he do now? The whole strategy was based around the shape of the house, they somehow got separated and all he had was a lamp torch, in midday (other very helpful element given by England's great planning).
The house was a real maze, beautiful place but a maze none the less. Statues, paintings and micro nations filled the once huge mansion making it impossible to ignore to country's inherita – Micro nations? Canada backed up to confirm his eyes weren't tricking him. Random floater, check. Weird ahoge, check. Useless aura, check. Maple! We forgot about Seborga! As if on cue, the Italian nation noticed Matthew, he flashed a killer smile and frowned when he realized the latter was no girl.
"What are you doing here… uh… you?" he asked with the irritating Italian accent
"Visiting." Lied Canada, surprised to have been seen "I've always admired Italian culture and all… I'm Canada by the way."
"Oh!" The brunet exclaimed "You're that useless chunk of land next to America!"
The blond felt offended "And you are the great Seborga, right hand of lord Sealand first world superpower." He replied full of sarcasm
"I'm just that great even countries like Can… Man.. Lopinana remember me!" cheered the oblivious Italian. The inability to read the atmosphere must run in their veins.
"Lopinana isn't even close to Canada!" complained the northern nation
"It finishes in –ana!" retorted Seborga "Same thing."
"And I was speaking with sarcasm." sighed the close to invisible country, and Canada does not finish in -ana. "Gosh you're worst than Sealand."
"Oh look! Girls!" the micro nation quickly forgot about the other and ran to flirt with the beautiful ladies. Italian political women… Canada thought as he rolled his eyes.
England's plan was perfect, flawless! If only the map wasn't printed backwards… Because we all know it was only printed backwards. There's no way Arthur would make such a dumb mistake as taking the wrong map! And it was the French speaking nations' fault they got separated, Britain did NOT abandon Carm… Plan… Americanda in the middle of the mansion, nor did he knock France unconscious for inappropriate touching. (A smile crept on the man's lips as he remembered the glorious moment his fist met the bearded face). He totally wasn't the reason Candia was missing in action and France lying on the floor God knows where. And he wasn't lost! The simple idea that the great nation had no idea where he was was ridiculous, absurd!
So maybe he did not have knowledge of the exact location of his whereabouts. That was of no importance. He could always… always… Damn it! What can I do?... Find a way out. Somehow. Or continue to explore. Shut it pirate instinct, now's not the time! Exploring… The idea roamed around his mind. You do not have the luxury to randomly follow your heart anymore, we are not exploring, he scolded himself. England felt his heart complain but resisted the temptation to fall back on his young day's habits.
It was far from the first time Arthur's past pirate habits ha attempted a coup d'état against the gentleman he now was. He knew how badly the barbarian behavior was seen by others nowadays, but like Marshall in How I Met Your Mother explained: Once you eat the best burger in New York, the others taste like wet dog fur. The thrill of the adventure, the excitement of the fights, the freedom of a life bound by no laws, the dedication to the vast world that is the sea... Settling into a stable and calm life was nothing but an incarceration to the nation's soul, a torture. He felt like he had no motivation to continue and move on but his pride. His mutilated, tasteless pride. Why did it change? Why did I sacrifice happiness for my duty?
Everything was for England. He was his own prison guard. He had wished for strength. Military strength. His fleet became master of the salted kingdom. He even defeated the spanish armada. But at what cost? At the cost of his pirates, of the carefree mentality of his people, of Captain Kirkland's life.
The island's melancolic thougths were abruptly interrupted by an authoritarian cough demanding attention. The sound's origin stood admist the wide room Arthur was searching despite his distraction, as decorated as the walls. 'Stood' doesn't quite translate the effect the man had on his surroundings, he imposed his presence to the room, ripped the eyes from the many mesmerizing pieces of italian art to glue them on his person. Even England was left without breath, it was like they were destined to meet in this space – a display room – that glorified the elder, almost making white wings grow out of his back. The old man was defigurated by age, he was an exception within nations and always took his boss' appearance. The only differences could be seen in his soul through his eyes: he had more experience, more wisdom, more history, more power. He wasn't human. No, really? Sarcastically thought the island, who would have known non-human being existed? He continued.
The man flashed a saint smile "Well Hello United Kingdom of Britain and Northern Ireland." he greeted, teeth as white as his heart should be.
Arthur flinched at the sound of his full name. It seemed so formal – a formality he wouldn't have minded without the reminder of his past life – and created more distance between the two personifications. He regained the gentleman attitude
he was so proud of and threw back the greeting "Hello, Vatican... or should I call you Holy See?"
"Vatican is fine," allowed the italian country "It matters but little, we are all equals to His eyes."Religious quote... I didn't see that coming! The sarcasm plaguing Britain's thoughts had obviously not left "What are you doing in our house?"
The question called for a prompt, intelligent answer and after all the effort the gentleman had focused in his renowned secret services, he knew he was capable of creating an excellent alibi: "I needed to use the bathroom." ...or not. "I mean Germany's bladder couldn't hold it anymore..." Shut up "Cats everywhere, it was crazy!" It's going to sound like something Alfred would say but... Dafuq brain? "Look, a bird!" shutupshutupshutup! The confused look on his face tells me he's not buying it... Is he saying something? Looks like a chant or somethi - MOTHER OF -
Walls of light shot from the marble tiles and covered the delicately carved walls, the windows framed by velvet curtains and the grand double door that granted access to the small museum of italian art. Arthur was nothing else than a prisonner. He swiftly turned his head to face the older nation, demanding explanation for the rather exaggerated reaction. Vatican's personnality had always been a mystery to all - after all, he seldom talked to other nations - but his saddened expression gave the briton a glimpse of the man's inner self. "You're trespassing... Don't worry, your soul can be saved once yo confess your sins to me." The religious elder whispered in a soothing voice. Not an ounce of lie tainted his words. Devotion, the man is blindly devoted to his beliefs. Arthur's thought held no bitter feelings but admiration for the saint standing in front of him, he was tempted to kneel and dive in prayers. If only his past would let him.
"I suppose the cage is due to the fact your followers show a tendency to run away?" the blond blurt out before he could knock some sense into himself. Every nation knew Vatican's strength rivaled - if not surpassed - America's due to his many followers. Fighting him was no different from committing suicide. Good job, Arthur, good job.
The Holy See's face distorted in disapponitement "I have always held great respect for you," he started "The way you prioritize your work and manners over leisure makes you the perfect model for youngsters who ignore traitional values. I do not like this rebelious side of yours, United Kingdom of Great Britain and Norhern Ireland." flinched again "I shall get rid of those demons of yours and free your original self."
Free. The word resonated in Arthur's mind. What does Vatican, a nation bound by religion, know about freedom? Did he ever lead a life where he was truly free? One look at the man's sincere expression was enough to answer the question. The two countries' definition of freedom were different. While Arthur thought the lack of responsability was freedom, the Holy See saw it as a freedom of the soul, bound by no sins nor worries. The briton didn't disagree with the religious man's point of vue, but he didn't embrace it either. Quite the opposite as a matter of fact. "You're right, how 'bout I start acting like meself, ey?" he grinned
The sudden personnality change threw the smaller nation in a sligt confusion, just what the renewed Captain Kirkland needed to lunge at the old man and snatch the spell book from the aged hands "So this is the source of your magic? The Bible? I wonder what it'll do if I read..." the blond opened the small book at a random page ang smirked at the sight of a rather unusual sentence.
"Fool!" Vatican scolded when he failed to get up from his tackled position "You out of everyone knows best the consequances of an unkown spell. It could trigger His anger! This is too dangerous to be taken lightly."
"Dangers what makes life worth living mate!" declared the rebelious spirit before starting a short chant "'Jacob felt like an alien in the land of ham' well that's a funny line, what d'you reckon it do - " A light similar to the one encaging the room emerged from the ground and drew the shape of the summoned creature from Hell.
Its white fur was the only proof the beast was indeed summoned by a holy book, The Holy Book, as the grace and elegance - signatures of Vatican's magic - were nowhere to be seen. A powerful jaw, over which stood a pair of eyes reflecting an animalistic intelligence, turned its raw food in a mashed substance that would make even Belarus puke. Four powerful legs immitated wall like foudations giving the unwavering monster a stable body. Along with the torn raven black material that covered his limbs, the being's presence was enough to freeze both personnifications.
"What did you make the Holy magic summon?" sneered the italian nation while he got up "This is the most unorthodox thing I have ever seen, surely you'll go to Hell for such an act. I doubt I can help you further."
"You think?" Arthur taunted "I believe it would make a nice pet... An original pet. I mean look at it! How many ninja llamas do you know?"
Reviewers are loved... And I will mentally send them french food, and wine if you're over 18. I remind you, MENTALLY.