The Kingdom of Netherlands—The Hauge
December 30, 1898, Friday
"Do you want me to call Russia?" Belgium asks. "I will do it. I know you do not like talking on the telephone."
Netherlands slides his finger down the list. "We still haven't received notice from everyone," Netherlands sighs. "America still has not said whether or not he will come."
Spain is a definite no. "A war with America, so busy," he had said. Netherlands is almost disappointed. He would like to show off how much better things are now that he is independent.
Denmark and Sweden-Norway. Both declinations. He crosses them all off the list. Mexico has sent a second letter, saying he cannot make it after all. He is dreadfully sorry, but something came up.
Siam, Greece, Portugal…Netherlands is almost ready to be offended until he remembers how much money this will save.
The list of those who are coming is still far longer than the one of those who are refraining.
Germany and Prussia had promptly sent him a message saying that they both would be attending. Austria and Hungary had quickly followed. Switzerland had waited a while longer, but he had still been third of those Netherlands had not directly spoken to. Italy, at least one of them, had promised to come. He, Russia, Belgium, and Luxembourg had been marked on the coming list for months.
The empires from farther afield have all said that they shall attend. The Ottoman Empire, China, Persia, and Netherlands' particular friend, Japan. Not that Japan would consider Netherlands a friend. It is strictly business, according to him. And, if that is the relationship that he wants, then Netherlands is not going to push him. He values the trade relationship too much to jeopardize it for friendship. Britain and France had sent messages of acceptance late, in what felt like a targeted action, though Netherlands could not decide what their meaning might be.
"Then we should call America."
"That would be a good idea, if we could find a telephone powerful enough to reach all the way across the sea."
She laughs. "I thought that had been invented already. It would be extremely useful, though."
"Yes, I would like to talk to him. I was close to him, for a while anyway. He could have been our brother."
"Another brother would be nice, since you and Lux are pretty great."
"Thank you. You are also pretty great."
She grins. "I know. I am glad the three of us have been spending more time together. There is something so fun about celebrating New Years together."
"Even though I made you two join me for a swim at the Scheveningen beach?"
"That was more fun than I thought it would be. I do not think I would have done it if there was ice. I am not a fan of ice plunges."
"Just slightly warmer than ice water plunges."
"Exactly. "
"You know, Britain and I fought at that beach back in 1653. The Battle of Ter Heijde. That was in the summer, though. Britan always said that he won that one, but he is wrong. I accomplished my goal of lifting the blockade, so no, he did not win."
Belgium laughs. "I was probably in Brussels back then, before France attacked. My lace industry was famous then. I do not remember that battle, particularly, but we were united in those years. Back during the Batavian Republic."
"We were actually still the Republic of the Seven United Netherlands. For about one hundred and twenty more years."
"Oh, that was one of the stranger names we had."
"Yes, I was not particularly fond of that one. Well, I will call Russia now. He should know how many nations we are hosting. How about you go check on Lux? He has been in the garden for a long time, and there is nothing to do out there in the snow."
"He is probably making snow sculptures, but I will go check."
Netherlands dials the number for Russia. The first telephone had been brought to Amsterdam in 1881. When his current minister of Foreign Affairs, Willem de Beaufort, began his term, he decided that Netherlands should personally have two telephones. Netherlands still does not agree, but when de Beaufort had excitedly given him a comprehensive list of telephone numbers to the other nations within range, he had given in.
"Hello, Laurinaitis speaking." It is Lithuania's voice, despite the different name. It may be his human name.
"Hallo, Lithuania. This is Netherlands."
"Aah, hello Netherlands. I hope you had a merry Christmas."
"Yes, it was genuinely enjoyable. Belgium and Luxembourg were with me for part of it, and we spent New Year's Day together. I hope yours was also enjoyable."
"Oh, yes. It was…well, it was better than it could have been, certainly. Should I call Russia for you?"
"You don't have to; I am only calling to tell you who is coming to the conference."
"Not everyone is coming?"
"It seems quite a few are busy."
"Oh dear. I do not think Russia will be very happy about that."
"He cannot be happy all the time. Shall I dictate to you?"
"Yes, go ahead."
"Russia, of course. Belgium, Luxembourg, and I. Germany with Prussia. Austria with Hungary. Switzerland. At least one Italy. Japan. France. Britain. China. Persia. Ottoman Empire, along with Serbia, Montenegro, Bulgaria, and Rumania."
"That's only eighteen."
"Yes. Spain, Portugal, Siam, Greece, Mexico, Denmark, and Sweden have all declined to attend."
"There is still one more. America?"
"He has not answered. I thought at first it was because he was an ocean away, but when Mexico answered, I am uncertain."
"Just a moment please, Mr. Netherlands," Lithuania says. "Mr. Russia has arrived."
There is a short silence beyond the constant buzzing of the receiver. Netherlands waits.
"Netherlands!" Russia bellows. "My dear little friend. It is so good of you to be calling first for a change."
"Hallo, Russia. I hope that you and yours spend a happy Christmas together?"
"Oh, yes. We were all so merry. I have seldom seen my household in such a state of joy. You should have joined us."
Netherlands blinks. That sounds very much like something he would not like to do. "I had a lovely Christmas myself."
"All alone? How sad for you."
"No, Belgium and Luxembourg were there." For about half the time. They, too, had many traditions which they planned celebrate with their people.
"It warms my heart to know you were not alone."
"Thank you. I telephoned to update you on the guest situation."
"Oh, are there more than we expected?"
"Less, actually."
"Less? I am not sure I heard you correctly, Netherlands."
"Less, Russia. Or fewer? French is not my first language."
"How can there be less? Did Lithuania make a mistake with the invitations?"
"No, Lithuania did not do anything wrong. It was simply the answers I received."
"The imitations must not have been friendly enough. They must not have liked them."
"I am certain the invitations were fine. It is just that some were busy."
"They were not too busy for the Congress of Vienna."
"That was far fewer nations, Russia. I was not even invited to that one. Just my British ambassador and Baron von Gagern. We are not missing very many. Lithuania wrote them down."
"He knew?"
"I only just told him," Netherlands says, grimacing at Russia's tone. Sometimes, Spain would get that cadence in his voice. Not exactly angry, but it was a warning not to push him any farther. And usually, Netherlands would not. When Belgium and the others were near enough to get in the way of the crossfire. Usually. But that was not a memory he planned on reliving today.
"Ah, well, we shall fix this. Do not worry." Russia sounds more normal now, though it is hard to tell when he has been yelling over two and a half thousand kilometres through a telephone.
"It is fine, really. If they are busy, we cannot force them to come."
"We cannot?"
"I don't think so."
"We are the Russian Empire. There is little we cannot do if we work together."
We? This conversation has gone in a very odd direction. Netherlands glances behind him to see if Belgium has returned. There is no sign of her. He would like a little emotional support from someone very confident in expressing her emotions.
"You," Netherlands says finally. It is no good for Russia to get any illusions in his mind as to the connotations of planning an event together. "You are the Russian Empire. I am the Kingdom of Netherlands."
Russia laughs. "Of course, you are!"
"I am glad that we are on the same page. Is there anything else that you would like to discuss today? I have much to prepare, so I am short on time." Please, say no.
"Actually, yes there is."
"Oh. What might that be?"
"How are you doing on the housing arrangements?"
"Fine, thank you."
"And the menus?"
"Just splendid."
"And the agenda?"
"I thought you were handling that."
"I am. But if you would like me to add anything on, let me know. I want to make sure that you are happy with everything."
"I will let you know. Is there anything else?"
"Nothing that is urgent, if you are really so busy. I will handle our eschewing guests. We will have a full house, make no mistake. But please remember to take some time to rest. You sound worn out."
"Yes, thank you. Have a good day, Russia." Netherlands hangs up without waiting for a farewell.
There is an odd sense of tension surrounding him. Perhaps Russia is right. He clenches and unclenches his fist. Had Russia been condescending to him? How disrespectful. At least half of his exhaustion is Russia's fault, anyway, is due to his lack of financing. Not so much as a guilder paid towards this event, and he has the nerve to put Netherlands on the defensive? He strides to his closet and dresses for the outdoors. He will see what has occupied his brother and sister all this awkward conversation.
He steps outside. A snowball hits him in the face. He splutters and steps backwards, colliding with the doorframe.
"Oh, big brother! I am sorry. That was supposed to hit Belgium."
He wipes the cold slush out of his eyes and blinks in the January sun. Silently, he scoops a big handful of snow. Luxembourg and Belgium blink at him. He forms it into a ball. He launches it at Belgium. Shrieking, she is knocked over into a snow drift.
"Hey!" she yells. "He threw it."
"So, you would expect me to throw it at him." Stooping, he grabs some more snow. Before he can throw it, he is pelted with more snow from both of them.
It is a wonderful distraction. The three of them spend the rest of the afternoon outdoors. Eventually, they have made their way back to the Scheveningen beach. It is beautiful. Someone ought to build a resort here. They would make a fortune.
The North Sea, paler blue than in the summer, is only frozen in the shallows. The sun is setting. Rose coloured clouds are gathering. Netherlands sits down on the lightly snow-covered pale sand. Luxembourg and Belgium join him, one on either side.
"How did the call go?" Belgium asks.
"It was very odd. I must have caught Russia in a peculiar mood." Though, looking back, perhaps it was not so bad. Perhaps all he needed was some time out of doors. Time not staring at pages of figures and lists.
Luxembourg sighs contentedly and leans his head on Netherlands' shoulder. "After this is over, we should spend more time with each other."
Netherlands smiles. "I'd like that."
"Me too," Belgium agrees. "I have high hopes for this next century. Can you believe it? Only one more year. Next thing you know, we will be celebrating Lux's thousandth birthday!"
"Will you give me one thousand presents?"
"Greedy boy!" Belgium says, reaching over Netherlands to slap Luxembourg's hand. "Very naughty. No presents for you."
"Only one present," Netherlands declares, pushing Belgium back to her place. "One present for each millennium."
"Each decade!" Luxembourg says grandly. "The Kingdome of Belgium and the Kingdom of Netherlands henceforth and forever longer must give the Grand Dutchy of Luxembourg a present to represent every decade of his existence. So says I."
Netherlands and Belgium burst out in laughter.
When he catches his breath, Netherlands says "This is why we are doing this whole conference. For the new century. It is time we three were acknowledged for the important roles we have played in this bizarre world of ours."
"Hear hear to that!" Luxembourg raises a hand like he is toasting.
"This is our century," Belgium agrees. "Move over, France and Britain."
"And back off, Russia and Ottoman Empire," Netherlands adds.
"And get bounced, Germany and Austria," Luxembourg proclaims.
"Did they hurt you?" Netherlands asks, starting to get up.
"No, just they are overbearing. You are a worry wart."
"I am just your big brother."
"That is the same thing."
That is not true. Being a big brother has a lot more duties than simply worrying. But it does come with the territory. But, after this time spent as a big brother rather than a nation or a harried host has done wonders for his mood. Like Belgium, he has high hopes.
The Russian Empire—Saint Petersburg
December 30, 1898, Friday
Lithuania is sitting at Russia's desk, where he has spent more time than anywhere else in the last century. He is recording the list of Russia's guests who have declined to attend Russia's peace conference as Netherlands lists them aloud. Russia is going to be displeased with this list. He is going to take it as a personal insult. Lithuania counts the list of Nations.
"There is still one more," he tells Netherlands. "America?"
"He has not answered," Netherlands answers, sounding bored. "I thought at first it was because he was an ocean away, but since Mexico has answered, I am uncertain."
Just then, the door swings open.
"Lithuania!" Russia calls. "Have you finished with that stack of paperwork yet?"
He stops, seeing Lithuania on the telephone. Lithuania points at the telephone and says deliberately, "Just a moment please, Mr. Netherlands. Mr. Russia has arrived."
"You called Netherlands?" Russia asks, brows furrowed.
"Oh, no. He called first."
Russia gives a beaming smile and grabs the receiver from Lithuania's hand. "Netherlands! My dear little friend. It is so good of you to be calling first for a change."
Russia nods, smiling, leaning over Lithuania. "Oh, yes. We were all so merry. I have seldom seen my household in such a state of joy. You should have joined us."
Lithuania slides to the side, out of the chair and out of Russia's way. He starts to rearrange the paperwork, ideally listening. Russia seems to be in a good mood for now, at least.
"Less? I am not sure I heard you correctly, Netherlands."
Lithuania freezes. Oh dear.
"How can there be less? Did Lithuania make a mistake with the invitations?"
That was what he had been afraid of. He knows he did not make any mistakes on the invitations. He had read them over seven times each before he had sent them to Netherlands.
"The imitations must not have been friendly enough. They must not have liked them."
And who's fault was that? Russia had given him strict instructions to make them very friendly. And they were, saccharinely so. No doubt that had scared most of the declining nations off.
"He knew?"
Was this still about him? He glances over to Russia, who is staring at him. He gulps. Russia listens for another moment, then begins to smile again.
"Ah, well, we shall fix this. Do not worry. We are the Russian Empire. There is little we cannot do if we work together."
And there it was. More work for Lithuania, no doubt. He stops listening so closely and concentrates on the current work. He does not want to be in the office all night again. A few minutes later, Lithuania looks up to see Russia staring sourly at the telephone.
"Netherlands' manners could use some improving," he says.
Lithuania hums noncommittally.
"That is no difficulty," Russia continues. "So many of you had dreadful manners when you first joined the family. Now look at you!"
He waves as hand at Lithuania. Lithuania looks down at his booted feet.
"So compliant," Russia says. "When Poland is not here, at least."
Compliant? Subservient, Poland had said during an argument.
"She—," Lithuania begins to defend his best friend.
"I know, she inspires you to be a man. But we all know who it was who drank the vodka at your wedding."
Lithuania flushes. That tradition had not even been common in 1569 when he and Poland had united. But it is still a low blow for Russia to pull out of nowhere.
"But off course, there is no Poland, now. Nor a Lithuania, really."
We are all the Russian Empire, Lithuania mentally quotes.
"We must look forward, Lithuania," Russia says instead, immediately contradicting himself. "We, Netherlands, all of the various powers of the world. It is no good to us to continue to dwell in century which is about to end. The future is approaching."
"That is very well for you to say, Russia," Lithuania wants to say. "This is your greatest moment, your vastest territory, and you are on top of the world. Poland, your brothers, my brothers, I, and everyone else under your rule are nothing to the outside world. Our glory days are in the past. What can we do but long for days gone by?"
But instead, he nods once more.
"Yes," he says finally. "You are right, Mr. Russia."