Denmark had thought that his job was the easiest compared to what the other half of the team was doing. He, Iceland (and Mr. Puffin), Ireland, and North Ireland had the honor to act as a distraction. To Denmark, the art of distraction was something that not many people could do as efficiently and craftily as he. Of course, the others on his half of the team may be of some use (especially a certain puffin that consistently requests licorice and would not shut up about it) and he acknowledged the fact.
"Dropping old cannonballs off a tall building," Denmark chuckled, watching Ireland and North Ireland use their magic to hover the dusty balls of iron, "check!"
"Barricading the path to the office with knights," Denmark mused as Iceland fitted the base of a set of empty armor next to identical sets on the road, "check!"
"Sending Mr. Puffin to fly up and drop a surprise around the place," Denmark grinned, squinting his eyes up at the shrinking figure flying up into the night sky, "check!"
"Wait, what surprise?" Iceland asked uncertainly. "I didn't see him take anything."
Denmark threw an arm around Iceland's shoulders, pulling him closer. With his free hand, he tapped Iceland's head casually and said, "Let's just say I hope he doesn't ask for any restroom breaks after this because if he did, then he didn't do his job correctly."
From that moment on, Iceland made sure to check where he was stepping before moving forward.
"Is this really distracting them?" North Ireland asked, leaning against the wall as the group took a small break. "I can't hear any commotion from 'em at all."
The rest of the group shifted their weight to the other leg thoughtfully. From the silence shrouded around them, they knew that something was off. Denmark expected some sort of movement in the hideout by now, but it was alright. He was only executing 'Level One' diversions. There were several other levels; he just needed to step up his game.
"So what do you have in mind, you crazy Dane?" Ireland asked, sticking his hands deep into his pockets. "We're all ears."
The next half hour was spent debating over the fact whether or not to set explosives randomly around the grounds. Ireland, North Ireland, and Iceland strongly opposed the idea of ruining the castle just to buy time for the others whereas Denmark and Mr. Puffin didn't see that much of a problem.
"They're weak you know," Denmark said persuasively. "But if you want, we can explode them in mid-air."
"How do you expect it to stay up in the air while it goes off?" Iceland asked. Although, the moment he said that he immediately regretted after Denmark's gaze whipped over to Mr. Puffin.
"What!?" Mr. Puffin exclaimed, only to have Ireland silence him with a sharp wave of his hand. For the next few seconds, his beak seemed to have been glued tight because he hopped maniacally on Iceland's arm, trying to convey his panic.
"Why don't we just have loud conversations everywhere we go?" North Ireland asked wearily, watching the puffin in bemusement. "Your bird is distraction enough."
Iceland laughed weakly. At least Mr. Puffin was able to contribute something, even if his method was awkward and inappropriately timed.
At times, both Ireland and North Ireland were slightly irked that no one could ever remember their magical abilities, even though they were put to use recently. Then again, sometimes, they were glad no one remembered because if Denmark had asked them to levitate explosives into the air, they would refuse mainly because their powers were rusty from lack of use (and risking a falling bomb wasn't worth it). That and Scotland would probably be after their necks if shrapnel disfigured the castle in any way.
However, Denmark was persistent in their mission. Determined to raise the bar to 'Level Two', the nation swaggered off in search for means of diversion. The two brothers placed a sincere hand on Iceland's shoulders and looked down at him with a sympathetic expression.
"I am so sorry," they both said grimly, "that you are related to this man."
Iceland released a breath of air and smiled at the ground. "Sometimes, I am too," he admitted, "but Denmark means well. To be honest, he's probably so cheerful to make up for his past."
"Which reminds me," North Ireland said gravely, "will we be seeing his doppelganger around?"
"If I remember correctly, his doppelganger was one of the first ones we fought," Iceland said, contorting his face slightly with concentration. Belarus had picked a fight with Dark Denmark, and even if it was all a month ago, it seemed like ages had passed since then.
"What happened there?" Ireland asked.
A series of 'um's and 'well's escaped Iceland's lips before the country shrugged apologetically. "I can't remember that much."
"Oh? That's too bad...but let's go catch up with Denny before he gets into major trouble, alright?" Ireland winked, clapping Iceland on the back.
"Scotland, you son of a bitch..."
Scotland coughed into his fist weakly. "Sorry. I forgot that I laid traps down here. It's been so long ago and I can't remember every single detail."
Sealand and Ladonia began to thrash and complain, claiming that the other was pinching the other's stomach and that something was burdening their breathing.
"You jerk!" Sealand whined, pounding his small fist into England's shoulder. "Do something!"
This half of the team were piled up together, compressed in a tight ball after Scotland triggered trap several centuries old. The floor below them had disappeared and they fell into some sort of pit, old bones softening their fall.
"Why you..." England grumbled, struggling to free himself from underneath Leichtenstein's arm and Finland's body. He flailed out an arm to find something sturdy to use as a support but retracted it the moment Norway clicked his tongue irritably.
"That's my head."
"Ah, sorry..."
After watching England wriggle around for a few more seconds, Scotland decided to take pity on his brother and offered his shoulder. "Here, use me to lift yourself out. There should be some sort of tunnel, a vent, if you will, along the wall a few feet up. That tunnel should lead us to a small room that will ascend back to the surface."
"And this is why you're leading us around and not England," Sealand piped up, only to yelp as Ladonia's foot happened to plant itself in his face.
"Because of him, we fell in here," England sighed wearily, "but that's not the point now. As long as Scotland here can find a way out of these traps, I don't care. But I swear, if one of the traps harm us and even incapacitates us for a while, you'll never hear the end of it."
"It's fine, you Brit," Scotland scoffed. "Did you forget the rules of the game? As long as we're not captured within the time allotted, we win, even if we do lie around in some trap, knocked out. And it's not like we can die in the traps really...we'll get up eventually."
"Eventually," England rolled his eyes, "but I promised Germany that if we finish our mission early, or finish it in general, we'd rush back to his house and help if it's needed." He squinted his eyes in the darkness, groping the dirt wall for a possible tunnel entrance. Bits of gravel and rocks crumbled under his touch and fell back down to the others. They shifted uncomfortably.
"Ah, England?" Finland called. "You're kind of...stepping on my arm and it's hurting..."
"What?" England glanced down and squinted at his feet. "Oh, sorry..."
A chorus of grunts and gasps followed England everywhere he stepped. He cringed every time it happened and when he stepped on Leichtenstein's leg, her squeal made him reconsider standing after he played an image of Switzerland shooting at him mercilessly.
"Scotland, why don't you find it?" England asked wearily, feeling defeated. "I don't want to waste any magic now for light and it's probably better if you lead when you do find the tunnel."
Scotland held up a hand to England, gazing right into his eyes. "Help me up."
England reached out and grasped Scotland's hand firmly, hauling the nation out of the pile. With the absence of England and Scotland's bodies in the heap of nations, the rest of the team adjusted themselves to suit their satisfaction and watched as the two countries groped the wall for their escape.
"How many traps did you set anyway?" Wales asked. "Or do you remember at all?"
"You want my honest words?"
"Is it reassuring as a lie?"
"Lies can be reassuring now that I think about it..."
"Depends on how good the lie is."
"But do you want a lie or the truth?"
"I'm asking for the truth, unless the truth is harsh."
"So then you're asking for a lie?"
"Are you implying that the truth is harsh?"
Scotland paused and Wales stared up at him. England wheeled around and clapped a hand behind Scotland's head. "The question was, 'how many traps did you set'!" England snapped. "A number-a bloody number- is all we need to know. Why is a real number such a big deal?"
"England, of all people...you should know why it's a big deal," Scotland said grimly, rubbing the back of his head.
"Wait...you're making me nervous," Ladonia blurted out, glancing back and forth between Scotland and Wales. "What's going on?"
"Is the number that bad?" Finland asked, tension mounting. "A dozen traps? Two dozen? Or maybe three?"
"It's not the number of all the traps that should be worrisome," Norway said dully. "It should be the number of traps active."
"Scotland, just how many bloody traps are there?" England asked loudly, shaking Scotland's shoulders.
For some odd reason, Scotland started shaking even after England released his grip. The team watched as Scotland held a hand over his mouth as he laughed silently. England's patience grew thin and he raised his arm to smack some sense into his brother but Wales reached out to grab England's ankle, stopping him while he mouthed, 'Wait.'
Several seconds later, Scotland's laughter became audible and he leaned against the dirt wall, heaving his chest as he attempted to calm down. "Oh..." he groaned, "oh, bloody hell..."
"Are you alright?" Liechtenstein asked nervously.
Scotland grinned down at her. "Yeah, I'm great. Absolutely terrific. You want an honest answer, Wales? England?" he added to his brothers.
"Obviously," England said while Wales continued to stare up at him.
Scotland's expression softened as crossed his arms. "There are several hundred traps lying around underground the castle and, who knows, outside. Many are active if this one still works, but I don't know which ones are active and which aren't. If I think the weapons are hidden in the very depths of the underground tunnels of the castle, then we'll be going through hell."
England's jaw dropped for a split second before he remembered that it was bad manners and he pursed his lips, trying not to burst out in exasperation. The others didn't do as well as he.
"So then...what? What?!" Ladonia yelped.
"I-is it too late to join Denmark's half?" Sealand laughed nervously, adjusting his hat.
"It isn't," Scotland said in a business-like tone. "Like I said, this tunnel will lead back to the surface." A pause followed his words before he mumbled and tiny, "I think..."
"You think?" Sealand exclaimed in horror.
"You can't expect me to remember every single escape route, can you?" Scotland retorted. "And this was a couple hundred years ago or something. Hell, I don't even remember when."
"You know, we can talk about this when we escape," Finland said calmly. "It's still cramped in here and it would be nice if we all can stretch and get a breath of fresh air."
Several minutes passed before Scotland finally found the entrance. His elbow scraped by the hidden entrance and after the rubble fell, he caught the tiniest sound of a metallic scrape. It was confirmed after he and England dug their fingers into the fairly well-compacted dirt wall concealing the wooden hatch; a sudden jerk of the handle opened up a musty tunnel leading to what they hoped was the surface.
"We're relying on your memory, Scotland," England said, emphasizing every word.
Unfazed by the burden, Scotland shrugged and climbed into the tunnel, which was spacious enough for even a tall country like him to crawl on his hands and knees. England urged Sealand and Ladonia in after Scotland since they were anxious to escape, followed by Finland, Norway, and Wales. England felt sorry for Liechtenstein, seeing as she was the sole girl in the team and so she had to go last so that she could preserve her modesty. That and England was sure that Switzerland would do something if anything accidental happened.
"Just call if anything happens, okay?" England told her, to which she nodded.
"Okay, try number two!" Scotland announced after the team retraced their steps from the entrance to the undergrounds. They had reached the gaping hole in the corridor where they fell into the first trap, the dull beige of the bones peering up at them as they glanced downwards.
"How do we cross?" Norway asked.
Scotland nodded to the side of the corridor. "It's tricky," he said, "but there's enough room for us to shuffle across over there. Careful though. We may have a foot-long ledge but if you look down, you can lose your sense of balance."
"Who's first?" asked Finland.
Chuckles escaped some of their lips but it was followed by complete and utter silence.
"Uh, Scotland?" England coughed.
"What? Are you seriously?" Just because I'm the leader, it doesn't mean I'm first for everything."
"It's what a leader does, hence the name leader."
"Well...as leader, I say Wales goes first," Scotland declared, clapping Wales on the back. "Go on then, don't keep us waiting."
"I'm not going first!" Wales exclaimed, bewildered.
"I say Sealand goes," Ladonia said under his breath, jerking a thumb in Sealand's direction.
Sealand pointed a finger at England and declared, "No way! The jerk goes!"
The heated argument went on for a while and England's stomach fell. This was only one trap with hundreds more in the undergrounds, depending on what route they take. It was going to be a long game.
"Denmark...how did you get into that position?" North Ireland asked weakly, although he really didn't want to know.
Denmark squirmed in the air for a while, his ankle caught around a rope that left him hanging in a tree. Mr. Puffin flew from Iceland's shoulder and landed on Denmark's caught foot, pecking at the rope in amusement.
They had decided to move outside the castle walls for whatever Denmark had in mind by using Ireland and North Ireland's transportation magic skills, but the effort caused quite a bit of strain from the two ("Again, pretty rusty now that we're not with the others," they had mused).
"It's obvious, isn't it?" Ireland asked dully. He stuck his hands into his pockets and sighed. "That Scotland and his traps...I thought they were all inactive."
"Wait...are you saying that they're still lying around?" North Ireland asked in disbelief. "Wouldn't the government do something about it? How can they leave traps out in the open when this place was a tourist attraction?!"
"Well they took away all the obvious ones," Ireland said, "but Scotland has them others hidden. I bet there are loads of them underground."
"That's where they're at, right?"
"Looking for the weapons? Yeah."
Iceland couldn't find an opening in their conversation until now, and he hurriedly asked, "What are you talking about? What traps? And by 'they', do you mean England's half? What's underground?"
Ireland's cool gaze examined Iceland for a moment before he laughed. "Back in the old days, Scotland was often attacked by England his his army. In fact, a lot of people were attacked by that edjit, including us, mind you. So Scotland laid several traps-"
"'Several' is an understatement, Ireland," North Ireland stated.
"I know, but it's no use causing panic around here," Ireland said coolly.
"It can't be that bad," Iceland murmured.
"That's what they all say, interestingly enough," Ireland insisted. "Let's just say that if the other traps are active like this one, they're fucked."
Iceland cringed at the thought. "But they have England, Scotland, and Wales. Can't they do something to protect the others?"
"There are certain laws of magic, and there are a lot of things magic can't do because of that," North Ireland said. "As for the underground, it's a series of complex tunnels to a hidden room that serves as a hiding spot for royalty or special things. Scotland thinks the doppelgangers might be hiding the weapons there, and it's a good place to hide it too."
"Anyway," Ireland interrupted, "let's get Denmark down. He's probably tired of hanging around-"
Denmark's body jolted downwards and the three halted, shooting their gaze up to the rope. Mr. Puffin chose that moment to launch himself into the air, declaring that while the three nations were idly chatting, he took the initiative and saved Denmark by pecking at the rope.
"Who's a useless puffin now?" Mr. Puffin jeered.
Denmark lifted his upper body up as if to look at the nearly severed rope but the action took its toll and it snapped. Ireland and North Ireland took a step forward and Iceland's mouth opened as if to say something but the three ceased their movements and sighed in relief when Denmark's flexibility came into play.
"If you were an actual human, you'd win gold at the Olympics for gymnastics," Ireland mused when Denmark flipped in the air to position himself for a safe landing.
Denmark gave Ireland a smirk as he freed his ankle from the rope. "You think I can disguise myself as a human and give it a shot for the next one?"
"Yeah, I doubt that."
"That's too bad."
"It is, isn't it?"
As Mr. Puffin returned to Iceland's shoulder triumphantly, North Ireland asked, "So what's the diversion this time? We've already played a quick game of bowling with the remaining cannonballs-"
"Was it the time that one dopp confiscated my licorice?" Mr. Puffin demanded angrily, wings flapping furiously.
"No," Iceland said, "it wasn't."
"Was it the time we played football with the helm of that armor set?" Mr. Puffin asked.
"It wasn't, but it was a pretty damn good game," Ireland mused.
"Was it the time you guys reenacted some battle in the armory?"
"No, it wasn't," Denmark grinned.
"Then when was it?" Mr. Puffin demanded.
Iceland restrained himself from rolling his eyes wearily. "None of the doppelgangers confiscated your licorice."
"What? Then where did it go?"
"You ran out. You imagined that they were taken."
"Bullshit. I know one of those doppies got 'em. Let's go and get it back!"
"Okay, go ahead," Denmark said lightly.
"What?" Iceland stared up at him. "Are you out of your mind?"
"Rummaging through their things sounds like it would distract them. Where is the entrance to the underground tunnels anyway? As long as we can keep them away from there, the others are fine, right?" Denmark added to Ireland and North Ireland.
The two nodded and Denmark's grin widened. "Awesome. But first, before we go looking for Mr. Puffin's licorice, do you two have any magic left to do something for me and then transport us back into the castle?"
"Depends," North Ireland said slowly. "What do you need us to do?"
"Fire. I need fire," Denmark said casually. "It's dark at night and if it's something they need to spot clearly, fire will stand out."
"But we can't catch something on fire out here. And we can't leave someone out here with a torch; that's just idiotic."
"But what if the fire really wasn't fire?" Denmark asked.
North Ireland cocked his head to the side while Ireland scrunched up his nose in confusion. "What do you have in mind?" Ireland asked.
You guys don't want to hear it. I understand. I apologize too much; it's worth nothing now.
I rarely like to leave Author's Notes after a chapter, but I feel a need to explain myself. All I'm saying is that finals and AP Tests suck. They can...they can place their theoretical lips upon my posterior repeatedly. And writer's block for that matter.
But I finally sucked it up and wrote. Seriously, I spent hours on my computer, forcing myself not to go anywhere until this chapter is done. I find it amusing that though I love writing, the worst part about it is that actual writing. Coming up with the story is the best part; putting them into words and make them sound good is another thing. Only certain people have the ability to do that for a long time and not make the later chapters sound like crap. I certainly wish I have that ability.
Anyway, there are a few things I wish to note about this chapter. Let's see if I remember any.
When Mr. Puffin mentioned football, I don't mean American Football. I had to consider this term because not only do my readers come from America, but there are thousands (or at least hundreds) of people outside of the States. So what does Mr. Puffin mean by football? It's football/soccer, not American Football.
Another thing I wanted to point out is that my research on Edinburgh was conducted so long ago that I can't remember every detail about the castle. I know for sure that there isn't a series of underground tunnels (at least, I think; who knows, the government might be hiding something) and I'm not even sure if there are any trees outside the castle walls.
Okay, let me take that back. Obviously there are trees outside the castle walls. If you go several miles in one direction, you're sure to come across at least one. Allow me to rephrase; I don't even know if there are trees on the land belonging to...whoever owns the castle (I'm sure the government does or the royal family or something, but just to be sure, I have no idea so don't go saying that some fanfiction writer told you that the castle is owned by so and so).
I was actually planning on making this chapter the final part to the Edinburgh arc because surely by now you guys have several plots from different places wrapped around your head and you can't remember what is going on. I understand you completely; I had to look back at my chapters to remember what was what and who was with who. I actually forgot Norway was with them (sorry Norway, I love you) so that's saying something.
Luckily, I only have Edinburgh and Omsk on my hands and then later, we have Bordeaux with France's team and then, at last, Schwerin, in Germany. I can never remember to spell that correctly; I had to look it up. Goodness, those few chapters will kill me. Anyway, don't you worry my dear readers. After Germany's arc, it won't end right then and there. There is actually one little arc in between that and the end and I sincerely hope you enjoy it.
But until then, I must continue to fight my procrastination (and now that summer's here, I can fully devote myself to writing!) and entertain you guys with updates. Oh dear, I just hope I can continue to fight my laziness. It's going to be a tough battle, so I'll be fighting alongside my dear nations.
Thank you for reading and thank you for putting up with me. I appreciate it. :)
***Oh, and by the way, after I posted this chapter, I decided to come back and add in a small recap of what happened just to freshen your minds up!
America's team succeeded in their mission by exploding themselves up...quite literally. Don't worry; I know you guys are concerned about them, (I mean, they dropped bombs on bombs; ouch) but as countries, they will eventually get back up.
China's team flooded their bases and came to rescue Japan's team. This resulted in Greece getting the honor to explode the Kawasaki hideout and so now at this point, Los Angeles, Suzhou, and Kawasaki are taken care of!
We are currently in the middle of Edinburgh and Omsk. I predict that Edinburgh will have one more chapter before it ends and Omsk...hard to say; at least two but no more than four. I'm pretty sure there will be two more chapters of Omsk. But hey! The next chapter is Omsk, so those of you who are waiting for Russia and Dark Russia, you're in for a treat.
And last, but not least, we have France's team with Bordeaux and Germany with Schwerin but of course, you already know that because I just said so up there.
Okay, I think that's it for now. I'm certain I covered the basic storyline for this part of the story. In fact, I'm looking forward to ending the story. I enjoyed working on it (and sometimes, not so much since writer's block a real pain to deal with) but it would feel awesome if I could end it and feel some sort of closure. Of course, there's that other Hetalia story I'm working on so I'll have to deal with that.
Oh boy. A lot of writing, but I look forward to that other story. So until then, I'll see you guys later.