Chapter 6

Asiat Suomenmaan
The matters of Finland

It was pleasantly warm in the hazy darkness, the cold creeping beyond the walls of the house could barely be sensed through the thick wood. Snow fell softly outside the window, silent and peaceful in the February night. The room was illuminated only by a lonely candle and the flickering fire, which could be seen through the open hatch of the ceramic stove. Shadows danced across the walls like spirits of the ancient world, long forgotten by the people when they moved from simple huts and tents to proper houses, gave up their beliefs for others.

Finland sat curled up in an armchair, wrapped into a woollen blanket, staring into the flames with a book held loosely in his hands. He hadn't felt like putting it aside when it had become too dark to read or get up and light another candle. Even asking for Anna to do it had felt like a waste of time. The girl had enough work dusting around the house after a year of abandonment.

It shouldn't have bothered him, he had been away from home for longer periods of time in the past, but somehow this time all the missed time left a sour taste in his mouth. Maybe he was getting old? At least he was finally home, things would start calming down properly. Of course first there were the –

"Herra Lugnström?"

He looked up from the hypnotising flames and blinked at the sudden darkness before his eyes focused properly on the young maid standing in the doorway, clutching at her apron.

"What is it, Anna?" he asked, not moving from the chair.

The girl shuffled her feet nervously. "I have cleaned your room sir, you should go to sleep."

The Nation sighed and finally moved, unfolding from the chair, his muscles protesting after spending hours in one position. He closed the hatch of the stove as the maid moved to draw the curtains before the window. She picked up the candle and moved out of the room at Finland's heels.

His violet eyes flickered at the dark circles under her eyes standing out from the young, pale face. Her blond hair was trying to escape its bun and the kerchief wrapped around her head. She had been in his service for three years already and if he remembered correctly she would be turning eighteen soon. She looked exhausted.

She started when he took the candle from her. "You should go to sleep too," he said sternly.

"Bu-but I still have to prepare the kitchen for the morning and –" her blue eyes were wide as she stared up at her Nation and employer.

"No buts, Anna. You need rest too."

She bit her lip and stared at her feet. "Yes sir. Hyvää yötä."

He smiled slightly, "Hyvää yötä."

She gave one last nod and returned to her room near the kitchen, leaving Finland standing alone in the hall with the candle.

His own room was pleasantly warm as he stepped in; Anna had clearly started a fire in the stove while he had been pretending to read his book. He set the candle carefully down on the table, glancing at his bed. It looked warm and inviting, making him wish he could just fall into it and forget everything in his slumber. A clock ticked softly on the wall.

It had been over a year since he had been in this room, before his trip to Stockholm and this war had started on that cold February morning. The war was still going but fortunately for Finland, on Sweden's side of the invisible border – the one both could sense but neither would acknowledge – between them.

Soon that border would become reality.

By now the other Nation would have realised Finland had turned his back on their centuries of shared history, betrayed him for Russia – their enemy. Part of him was elated at the prospect while a part of him writhed in shame at his traitorousness. But he hadn't really had a choice, had he? Wars were won and lost all the time, so far it had been luck that had allowed him to stay with Sweden. The other Nation had grown complacent in his position and on Finland's support.

Mistakenly, as it turned out. Finland couldn't let things continue as they had, not anymore in this ever-changing world.

He had made the right choice.

He would be happier with Russia.

Right?

Stockholm was alive with movement; the people on the streets went about their business, went to work, sold their wares, bought necessities… Nothing appeared to be amiss at a first glance but if you stopped to meet their eyes, listen to their whispers, hear their at times shallow breaths and the nervous vibrato of their voices – the illusion of normality was shattered. Distaste, rumours and uncertainty rose to surface, clear for everyone to see.

A tall form, wrapped into a thick coat, stood silently in a corner created by a clock tower and a small chapel pushing out from the side of a huge church. People hurried past the looming church and the form, throwing wary glances in the direction of both the man and the looming church.

Sweden felt restless and he kept jumping at small noises, as if he was a child afraid of the dark. He if anyone knew there were things much more dangerous and scary than the dark. But while he knew that on intellectual level, it really didn't help him to calm his anxiety. He rubbed at his chest, hoping to relieve the ache caused by the uncertainty among his people. At this point, he really didn't know what else to do; Finland was lost to him and seemed to be getting on fabulously with Russia if that little get-together they were organising in Borgå was anything to judge by. He couldn't believe Finland was going along with this, this... farce.

Hadn't he been fighting Russia as long as Sweden himself had? Hadn't he suffered unimaginable horrors because of Russia?

So why was he, in the name of all things Holy and Good, being friendly with the Empire?

Sweden couldn't wrap his head around it; it just didn't make sense. He scowled darkly at the ground, causing a nearby man squeak in fright and pick up his pace, clutching a bolt of cloth in his arms like a new born baby. Sweden did his best to ignore the stab of hurt; he knew he looked scary and that Finland had always just been better at being approachable, but these were his people in his capital. They shouldn't fear him. Respect, yes, but not fear.

He would need to do better on his own now when he no longer had Finland to offer the point of contact with the commoners. His Provinces did help but Sweden was always so busy…

The Nation shook his head sharply and stepped out from the corner, heading for the front of the clock tower and the huge double doors located there. They were heavy and closed tightly, forcing him to extend some strength to push one of them open before stepping into the dim church. He crossed the small entrance chamber and let his hand rest on the door leading to the main hall for a second before taking a deep breath and pushing it open as well. He stared expressionlessly into the cold and silent church hall, it's Nave stretching towards the altar and illuminated only by the grey winter sun through the church's high windows.

His steps echoed across the countless tombstones that had replaced the original floor over the centuries. The white walls shone dully and the thick columns rose towards the vaulted ceiling as he followed along the sides of the main hall. Periodically his steps would come to a stop beside the smaller chapels and chambers branching out from it, carefully locked behind heavy iron gates. He gazed through them at the sarcophagi and coffins in silence, without really seeing them.

The presence of the grave monuments of Magnus Ladulås and Karl Knutsson at the front of the church seemed to hang in the air like storm clouds on a hot summer day. Not that Magnus was truly there but no one had believed him when he told them the King's bones laid elsewhere.

Not that he remembered their real location anymore, after all this time.

The other graves were at least filled with the earthly remains of those they claimed to contain. The chapels lining the main body of the church were each filled with past rulers, as were the crypts beneath their floors.

Kings, Queens, Princes, Princesses, all of them his.

All of them Finland's as well.

Sweden grit his teeth, his hands curling into tight fists at his sides. He tried to control the sudden urge to hit the wall, pummel it to pieces. Instead he was left glaring darkly at the carving on the wall beside his Lion's grave.

Opressos liberavit

in Augustiis intravit

pietatem amavit

Hostes prostravit

regnum dilatavit

Suecos exaltavit

oppressos liberavit

moriens triumphavit.

0

Under difficulties, he began,

in August, he entered,

by piety, he loved,

enemies, he defeated,

Empire, he expanded

Swedes advanced,

the oppressed, he liberated,

dying, he won.

What Empire? he thought darkly. There's no Empire, not anymore.

"Lord Oxenstierna."

He started in surprise at the voice, turning on his heel and staring at the serious man standing by the stairs, holding a bicorn respectfully in his arm. His gaze spoke of seriousness and tiredness, as if he had seen things he would rather have not. Sweden tried to search his memory for the face and name, only receiving weak echoes, stretched thin by time and a sort of disconnection until he finally managed to dredge up the man's name from the depths of his memory.

"... Generalmajor Adlercreutz."

No wonder it had taken the time to recognise the man, technically one could call him one of Finland's people, having been born there – But no matter, Adlercreutz was here and not in Finland, he was Sweden's now.

"What's it?"

Adlercreutz hesitated, his gaze darting towards the doors leading outside and at the hidden shadows between pillars and statues. "The Kingdom is in chaos," he said finally.

The Nation didn't react to the words, wondering where the old soldier was heading with this. Such statements were dangerous in times like these and he would have thought a man of Adlercreutz's station would know that. But that didn't change the fact that the statement was true. Sweden knew better than anyone that the Kingdom was in chaos, he was the Kingdom. It had been a long time since he had last been this confused about his future.

The human took a deep breath, his words coming out in a hushed rush. "The King may be more trouble than he is worth."

He had been expecting it but Sweden still felt himself flinching as if he had been struck. He had discarded Kings and Parliaments in the past but every time it seemed that it would need to be done again, he still found himself recoiling from the idea on some level, appalled at the very thought. But he also, always, found himself agreeing with it in the end.

But never before had such a thing been requested among the graves of his past Kings, as if to mock them.

"One does not speak of such things here," he said quietly, his voice dark.

The Major General seemed to sense the Nation's unease and heeded the warning in his voice. "Forgive me, my Lord," Adlercreutz murmured, gazing at the coffins around them. "Shall we take this elsewhere, then?"

After a moment's contemplation, Sweden followed.

Finland really hoped there wouldn't be a fire this time. He hated fires, just like every other Nation he could think of, and Porvoo had burned more times than he cared to count (and he really didn't want to count that one time with the fish soup...) And the last thing he needed was another fire that would almost totally destroy the town, again.

Although knowing Russia the other might get the kick out of it, he had burned Porvoo a few times himself after all.

Actually he had burned loads of places but that was neither here nor there.

The late March day was sunny but crisp when the Emperor was scheduled to arrive at around midday. Most people were skipping work – or had chosen to incidentally have all of their errands at this time – and were crowding the streets, eager to get their first glimpse of their new sovereign.

Finland himself wasn't as eager per say, having already met the Emperor but he bit his lip nervously. The main reason he was nervous was because he kept wondering, in a half-panicked sort of frenzy, what his new ruler would think of the town and the people. The only reason he could see anything over the crowd's heads was because he was standing on the front steps of the town hall, one of the few stone buildings in town. Among the crowd he could just make out most of the Provinces; Varsinais-Suomi standing disapprovingly on the steps of another house, Häme looking distinctly annoyed, Pohjanmaa looking downright murderous, Savo seemed to be on the verge of falling asleep where he leant against the wall of the bakery, with little Pohjois-Karjala hanging from his arm, seeming to be scared to death, Uusimaa looked ready to bite her nails off in nervousness and Satakunta just appeared indifferent. Only Åland was absent which didn't surprise Finland in the least. As far as he knew the Archipelago was still fighting, if only barely.

Soon they could hear the clip-clop of horse hooves on the cobblestones as the first Cossacks rode up the hill from the river in formation, followed by a carriage shaped sled. Excited murmur rang through the crowd before a hush befell them when the sled came to a stop before the stairs.

As he stepped down the stairs, the door opened giving him a small glimpse of the upholstered inside of the carriage-sled, before a man rose out, taking off his thick gloves. His Majesty the Emperor and Autocrat of All the Russias, Alexander Pavlovich, his face serious, gazed around the small square, taking in the quiet people. He was dressed in a General's uniform: dark green jacket with high red collar peeking out from beneath a thick winter coat, his black boots shining against the snow covering the ground. Clear eyes shone with determination from a young handsome face as he smiled slightly to the people and inclined his head. Finland could hear a few admiring sighs from the crowd.

The Emperor seemed to notice this as well as he smiled and waved to crowd, encouraging some to come greet him by bowing or kneeling. For a moment Finland thought the man would revel in his people's mixed fear and respect, but the Emperor was quick to pull them back to their feet, admonishing them for kneeling in the cold snow.

For a while Finland watched as Alexander interacted with the people, the words being short and at times non-existent due to the language differences. Very few people in Finland spoke anything besides Finnish or Swedish and those who did where generally members of the nobility. In spite of the troubles the Emperor seemed to be very quickly charming the people and no wonder. He was only twenty-five and clearly a gentleman of impeccable manners.

He already knew this based on the month he spent at the Anichkov Palace but it was a relief to see the Emperor's image holding true even here, out among the people.

Finally when the crowd started to calm down, Russia stepped up beside the Emperor, seeming to appear out of nowhere, talking to him quietly in clipped Russian. Finland fixed his jacket nervously, glancing around at his Provinces, hoping to convey comfort and surety in his gaze, before heading over to the two Russians.

"Your majesty," he said, bowing to the Emperor and offering a respectful nod to Russia.

"Финля́ндия," Russia greeted him with a smile and a clap to the back, which caused the shorter Nation's knees to buckle momentarily. Alexander only smiled slightly and nodded in response.

Finland cleared his throat, "Shall I show you to your accommodations?"

"If you would," the Emperor agreed, giving the people some last waves and greetings before accompanying the two Nations, the crowd parting automatically before them. Finland led them down the street beside the town hall and stopped before one of the small town's better and more regal looking buildings in classic style. Two Cossacks stepped forward and pulled the door open, letting the Emperor and his entourage in with a bow. Finland declined the invite inside, insisting he still had lots of work to do.

A lie but he really needed a cup of coffee to calm his nerves right about now.

He was derailed from his plans by the Provinces showing up out of nowhere; Uusimaa and Pohjois-Karjala latching tightly to his arms while the others crowded around.

He suppressed a sigh. "Moi," he offered trying to appear nonchalant and probably failing dismally at it, "how are you doing?"

"Been better, been worse, now tell us what exactly is going on," Pohjanmaa all but ordered.

Finland gritted his teeth in annoyance – must the Province always add those extra vowels and hover like that? – but relented. "In a moment. Let's get out of the street first and I would really appreciate some coffee after that," he glanced pleadingly at Uusimaa who started dragging him down the street with a roll of her eyes and a murmur of assent.

Soon the seven Provinces and one Nation were seated around the sitting room of Uusimaa's modest house, all of them with a cup of coffee in their hands. Coffee was one thing they would all agree on, as one of the best inventions in the history of mankind. Finland quite often found himself wondering how he had managed to stay awake before being introduced to it.

"So," Varsinais-Suomi started slowly, setting her cup down on the saucer and adjusting her sensible but expensive dress, "What is going on, isoveli?"

The others quieted down at their sister's question, gazing now attentively at their higher ranked brother. Finland squirmed uncomfortably at the attention. He was well aware all of them could make at least an educated guess on what was going on – Pohjanmaa, Satakunta, Savo and Häme had all served in their respective regiments during the war while the three girls had all had to deal with occupiers or having their areas walked through – and he really didn't want to tell them what was going on. It somehow made his actions seem cowardly, spelling out that he had practically betrayed Sweden.

But he really didn't have a choice, one rarely had when dealing with their siblings.

He took a deep breath, "From now on, we'll be part of the Russian Empire."

Silence.

"What about Sweden?" Satakunta asked sharply, adjusting his glasses, leaning forward

The Nation made certain to keep his face expressionless. "He's inconsequential."

This resulted in total chaos. Finland stayed quiet as his siblings shouted, protested, pleaded, celebrated, swore... he didn't care to keep count. When it came down to it, all of them had issues with Sweden but they were also used to living under his power, it was safe and familiar, even comfortable. Russia on the other hand had been their age-old enemy for a millennia, and it hadn't even been a century since the Wraths. All of them remembered the damage and pain Russia could cause and they weren't at all keen to relive it.

Finland didn't blame them, he wasn't keen on reliving any of it either.

"Whatever we may think of it, it's a fact," Finland called sharply over the din. "It can't be helped, I've already sworn the pledge to Russia and I promise you, things will be different."

"For good or for bad?" Häme asked in that calm way of his. Finland's violet eyes met his older brother's blue ones steadily. Sometimes he wondered why it had been him who became the Nation, the personification whose duty was to speak for all of them. Why hadn't it been strong and steady Häme? He was the heartland of their land, Finland – Suomi – himself had been of the coast, easily influenced by foreigners. Wouldn't Häme obviously have been the better choice, purer and more detached from foreign influences?

"Things will be alright," Finland broke the silence with certainty he wasn't entirely sure he felt.

The quiet fell again and none of them felt the need to break it. What else was there to say? Facts were facts and they couldn't be changed so easily, by whining, what ifs and talking the matter to death. Finland sipped his already cooling coffee, staring distractedly out of the window and onto the streets where things seemed to have mostly settled down to their normal routes. Even if the Emperor was in town, the work had to be done.

"...Does this mean I'll see isosisko again?"

Finland glanced to the side, meeting Pohjois-Karjala's wide brown eyes. She was clutching her cup in a death grip, worrying her plump lower lip between her teeth and the Nation's gaze softened. "Come here," he said quietly, setting his own cup down. The girl was quick to clamber to his side, wiggling to sit in the chair beside him under the others' eyes as Finland wrapped his arm around her. "I'll tell you secret. You can't tell anyone else yet, okay?" he said softly.

Her eyes widened even more but she nodded and Finland felt fond warmth spreading through him. Little Pohjois-Karjala was the youngest of them, come to existence more of out of necessity than nature. Her distance from Sweden and closeness to Russia had caused her to be treated badly by laws for a long time. Then she had been all but torn apart during the Greater Wrath, only to be left behind when her elder sister was taken by Russia in the Treaty of Nystad. He ran his fingers through the girls brown curls as she curled up against him, eagerly waiting for him to tell her the secret.

So young and innocent, still, somehow. Sometimes he wondered how it was possible, or even if it was all just a front she put up to hide the hurt.

He wouldn't be surprised for he himself was guilty of the same trick at times.

"Russia said it might be possible for Karjala to come live with us," he whispered softly and she gasped in delight, causing Finland to smile and tickle the nape of her neck. "He'll need to speak with the Emperor first, though."

"Do you think she would come back quicker if I asked too?" Pohjois-Karjala asked breathlessly.

"Let's wait a bit more first, alright?" Finland smiled, "The things we already talked about seemed fantastic and we can't get greedy."

The Province nodded in understanding. "Okay, but can I still ask later?"

The Nation chuckled, "Sure you can, but not until I tell you."

"Kiitos isoveli!" she cried out and hugged him tightly.

The sun shone through the high windows, seeming to fall directly on the young Emperor standing beside his throne, placed on a temporary platform opposite the pulpit. Russia stood behind the platform, in the shadows thrown by the canopy erected above it, observing his young leader standing proud before his new subjects, back straight.

The church was packed full of people from the representatives of the Estates to the normal people. Among, them standing to the side, were Finland – dressed in a new, dark blue, uniform-like jacket with golden leaves embroidered in its high collar – and his Provinces, listening intently. A small girl was clutching Finland's hand in a death grip.

Russia listened distractedly as Sprengtporten – the newly chosen Governor-General of Finland, who was receiving a lot of disgruntled glowers from his fellow countrymen and the personifications themselves – read Alexander's Sovereign Pledge in Swedish to the gathered folk. While he couldn't understand what was being said, he did remember the intensive talks and discussions they had had of the wording of the Sovereign Pledge.

We, Alexander I,

by the Grace of God, the Emperor and Autocrat of all the Russias, etc. etc,
Grand Prince of Finland, etc. etc.

do make known: That, Providence having placed Us in possession of the Grand Principality of Finland, We have desired hereby to confirm and ratify the Religion and the Fundamental Laws of the Land as well as the privileges and rights which each class in the said Grand Duchy in particular, and all the inhabitants in general, be their position high or low, have hitherto enjoyed according to the Constitution. We promise to maintain all these benefits and laws firm and unshakeable in their full force.

In confirmation whereof We have signed this Act of Assurance with Our own hand. Given in Borgå on the 15th (27th) day of March 1809.

The original is signed under the Supreme Own Hand.

Alexander

Finland would be alright with that, right? The other Nation would be happy and maybe, hopefully, they would be friends.

Russia cared deeply for his sisters but he sometimes had a hard time connecting with them. They were women after all and had no place in men's world; there was no way he could ever understand them perfectly or connect to them in all the ways that mattered.

That was really one of the reasons he wanted more people to live in his house; so that he could have a friend and wouldn't need to be alone. His land was so vast and so many people lived there he could go for years without seeing any of the губе́рнияs – some of them related to him, some of them not – and for once he wanted someone close by. Finland was conveniently close to St. Petersburg, they shared history and even culture, he knew they could be friends. He had tried to be friends with Estonia ninety years earlier but that hadn't worked; it hadn't ever worked with anyone.

He didn't really know how to be a friend.

And if Russia could be friends with anyone, he was sure it would be Finland. The shorter Nation had been friends with Sweden after all and most people were scared of the dour Scandinavian.

Finland's agreement to join him had been relieving. He wanted the Finn to like him; that was why he and Alexander had made such an effort to give his new underling so much freedom. He was going to be a much better friend than Sweden.

Finland would like that and he would be grateful and then the two of them would be real friends.

He was woken from his thoughts by applause ringing out in the church as Sprengtporten handed the Sovereign Pledge to an old man standing directly before Finland and his siblings. The shorter Nation leaned closer to peer at the paper over the man's shoulder and they both read over it in silence before the old man bowed respectfully to the Emperor.

Then, one by one the Estates – Finland's Provinces among them – stepped forward in a scene hauntingly similar to the one that had taken place four months earlier in St. Petersburg, each of them swearing their pledge to their new ruler.

"You seem happy."

Russia glanced down to his side, his violet eyes meeting a similar pair, peering up at him wryly. When had the other crossed the church? He offered Finland a bright smile. "Why wouldn't I be?" he asked, "I'm getting a new friend."

The look in the shorter Nation's eyes was inscrutable but Russia didn't bother to think about it. Not even the loud hurrahs after the pledges interrupted their quiet staring contest. Even Alexander's speech didn't distract them, until the very end when Finland's eyes whipped to the Emperor, wide and somehow breathless in their disbelief. What was the Emperor saying that could bring such a reaction from the other?

"Cet accord va commencer une nouvelle période dans votre existence nationale. J'ai promis de garder votre constitution, vos lois fondamentales, notre réunion ici vous garantit ma promesse." Alexander's last sentence had Finland's lips turning up into a stunned smile, which in turn had Russia smiling like a child. Ah, that explained it.

As the last line was translated into Swedish, applause and cheers broke out in the church, accompanied by cannons somewhere in the distance.

As the things stood now, nothing could take Finland away from him.

Rain fell in a steady, ice-cold grey curtain around the forces marching along the muddy road. The wind blew the water into their eyes, making it even harder to see in the gloom. Their boots were sucked into the wet ground, as if hands were reaching up from beneath, trying to drag them underground. The men were exhausted and they moved slowly but still strictly in formation.

Austria pursed his lips disapprovingly as he adjusted his glasses – which were making a brave attempt to slide down his aristocratic nose. He really did not like rain but considering that he knew for a fact that France didn't like it either, he was ready to brave the blasted weather in order to get his revenge on the flamboyant Frenchman.

He was ready to bet his Stradivarius – not really, but almost and it was the thought that counted – that France had stayed inside to protect his hair, not that Austria would have minded doing the same.

But beggars – he shuddered at the thought of calling himself a beggar even in his own thoughts – can't be choosers, what with these wars against France getting more and more ridiculous by the year. The romantic Nation's head and ego were just simply too large to fit in Europe anymore – come to think of it, that was probably why France had gathered Colonies around the world in the first place – and they, meaning Austria, had to get him under control as soon as possible.

Although considering his... less than stellar recent performances on the battlefield, he was pretty sure he wouldn't able to beat France alone, even if the thought itself was appealing on a hypothetical level. That would even shut Prussia up for a while, especially considering the blond had chickened out right before Austria's planned invasion. 'Too awesome to work with Austria.' Hah, as if. The puny Kingdom was just in denial, not wanting to admit his weakness after losing half of his landmass and a good chunk of his population only two years earlier. He would rub Prussia's nose on that for at least century.

And no one else was of any help either. England was content playing around with his ships – probably in some delirious reimagining of his pirate days – while the Nations across the continent fell under France's control one by one.

Even Sweden, who had been among the most steady of France's adversaries, had deposed of his King and was still tussling with Russia up in the north. Austria personally didn't see what the fuss was all about; Sweden's vassal – whatever his name was – was hardly significant in the grand scheme of things.

A huge drop of water fell into his eye, causing him to almost fall off of his horse. He rubbed his eye irritably, trying not to drop his glasses.

This was absolutely the worst war he had ever been involved in.

His horse snorted and shook its mane as if in disagreement, somehow managing to drench Austria even worse in the process.

"Bach ohne Ohren," he growled, flicking water from the threateningly drooping Mariazell.

Make that the worst war in the history of the world.

Austria decisively ignored the infuriated sigh Hungary gave somewhere down the line.

A/N:
Chapter title: from a line from J. L. Runeberg's poem Konungen/Kuningas (Swe./Fin. The King)
Herra (Fin.): Mister.
Lugnström (Swe.): quiet stream; is my half-assed attempt to Swedicize the name Väinämöinen because until 19th century you were viewed as being of lesser status unless you had a Swedish surname and spoke Swedish. Swedish name in Finland implied higher education and opened more doors to jobs and garnered more respect.
Hyvää yötä (Fin.): Good night.
The Finnish-Swedish border (had there actually been a border) until 1809 would probably have been Kemijoki/Kemi älv (Fin./Swe.) Lapland was not considered part of Finland during the Swedish reign but that's going to change soon.
Riddarholmskyrkan/Riddarholmen Church (lit. Knights' Island Church) is the burial church of Swedish monarchs; most monarchs since 1632 have been buried there
Borgå (Swe.): Porvoo
Generalmajor (Swe.): General Major (no way, really?!)
Gustav IV Adolf was removed from power on March 13 1809 and imprisoned afterwards.
A fish soup really caused a fire that burned down 2/3 of Porvoo. Beware of Finnish cooking :P
Now, introductions, starting from the north of the west coast! The names go Fin./Swe./Eng. If there's no separate English name, they use the first name given.
Pohjanmaa/Österbotten/Ostrobothnia: energetic, brave, fiery and prone to bragging, be wary of his puukko.
Satakunta/Satakunda: prone to letting his mouth run before thinking, easily misunderstood due to reversed compliments, blunt as a wooden butter knife, suspicious.
Varsinais-Suomi/Egentliga Finland/Finland Proper: Finland's replacement on the lower level. Lively, speaks quickly and is intelligent but a bit stuck up. Others often make fun of her for it.
Häme/Tavastland/Tavastia: strong, practical, hardy, humble and quiet. Sometimes spoken of as the "truest of Finns."
Uusimaa/Nyland: competitive, open, a bit ignorant and forgetful, curious of the world outside Finland and courteous.
Savo/Savolax/Savonia: playful and hardy, a bit twisted sense of humour, used to hard work and forests and roaming.
Pohjois-Karjala/Norra Karelen/North Karelia: you can probably guess from the name and my earlier writings that this is not the only Karelia running around. Cheery and talkative, energetic and hardy and at the moment the youngest member of the Finnish family.
And the still un-introduced Lappi/Lappland/Laponia(Lapland) and Åland/Ahvenanmaa...
isoveli (Fin.): big brother
isosisko (Fin.): big sister
kiitos (Fin.): thank you
And finally, the very important Porvoon valtiopäivät/Borgå landtdag/Diet of Porvoo (Fin./Swe./Eng.)! There's this one really important speech and loads of other cool stuff. They took place from March 28 to July 19 1809 and have been fiercely debated in Finnish political history since 1830s.
The date on Act of Assurance/Sovereign Pledge, first the Julian calendar (which Russia followed) and in the brackets the Gregorian calendar used by Finns. The date the scene takes place is March 29 1809.
Cet accord commencera d'une nouvelle période dans votre l'existence nationale. J ́ai promis de maintenir votre constitution, vos lois fondamentales; votre réunion ici vous garantit ma promesse (Fra.): This agreement will start a new period in your national existence. I have promised to keep your constitution, your fundamental laws; your meeting here guarantees you my promise. (Yes, I just totally butchered French, je suis désolé)
April 10 1809, the beginning of the War of the Fifth Coalition (which lasted only 6 months),
Bach ohne Ohren (Ger.): Bach without ears; normally Arsch mit Ohren/Arse with ears; Austria doesn't seem like the type to actually swear so... Johan Sebastian Bach, anyone?