ЦАРЬ KAISER - A Race to Conquer (Countryhumans)

Rumour

It might not seem very nice to you, but I found what German Empire did was hilarious. Especially seeing how America cried on the floor for about twenty minutes over his projector, as if it were his favourite daughter. He even called it 'she'. My excuse was that the dry meetings needed some sort of comic relief. It was more of checking to see if anyone died each month so that the land they owned could be confiscated or whatever. We didn't ever do anything, but sit around and gossip, not even paying attention to the 'speaker of the month' (some young person) who was just there on the overtime payroll. Of course, America took his responsibilities close to heart and had to say his whole spiel. He was usually the one hired for these purposes.

Speaking of young people, I had to put on a show today. As per customs, children would visit their Empirical parents over the 'weekend' (two allotted days of the week where young people do nothing) to socialise and bicker over silverware. My own ram-headed son would barge into my palace at twenty-two o'clock on a Friday night to camp in my home. He would drag one or two of his children along with him so that they get to see me (and/or make noise and mess everywhere).

I was not excited to see my son. As rebellious children go, he was an extreme example. First, reading banned books behind my back, then setting up unlawful groups, and then smashing a whole ship into the side of my winter palace! The reconstruction costs were terrible, but nothing compared to the rage I had. We turned our backs on each other for a while, but he mellowed out, and we made amends. Sort of.

"USSR, I'm home!" I announced. "If you are sleeping, I am throwing you out the window!"

Instead of deep bass, I heard a high pitched whine. "Papa is outside." Two heads popped up behind the grand spiral staircase. Ukraine and Russia were there, displaying sour faces.

"Tell your father to come here," I tapped the floor impatiently. "I need to ask him very important information."

"He's having a c-," Ukraine started.

"He's really busy," Russia said, surreptitiously elbowing his brother.

His brother caught on. "Oh, yeah. Papa is very, very busy. He's...uh...drinking syrup, yeah."

"Oh really?" I raised my eyebrows.

The boys nodded in unison. "Uh-huh."

I laughed. "You can't fool Grandfather, boys. How many times have I told you that?" I walked out of the double doors and into the garden area. Behind the doors, I knew Ukraine and Russia were madly scrambling to go hide somewhere. I stifled a smirk as I walked through the pristine white and pink roses, fluttery blue foxgloves, and yellow chrysanthemums. Around the corner, where there stood a white gazebo, was USSR. Leaning against a straw fence, he held in his hands a thin cigarette. Of course.

"Well, hello." I walked up behind him and tapped his shoulder.

I expected him to act surprised, to lie, to deny his nasty addiction. He could at least get on his knees to beg for fatherly forgiveness.

All I got was an annoying cheery "Good morning!"

"I see you're smoking," I observed.

He twiddled with the tobacco stick. "Well, as you can see, it's not a regular cigarette anymore. It's the thin kind. Maybe I haven't cut down on all smoking, but I've given up my Primas." he gave me a hopeful smile. I pursed my lips. He was a bit too cheery this morning.

"Why are you so happy?" I demanded, getting straight to the root of my issue.

He seemed affronted. "You told me last time that you didn't want me to come here with all my problems and acting sad and submissive. As you can tell, I left sadness back at home. It was fairly easy, too. All I had to do was set fire to my tax bills. Happiness is so easy to have. Maybe I should burn tax bills every weekend." He looked thoughtful. "It's nice therapy."