ЦАРЬ KAISER - A Race to Conquer (Countryhumans)

Attempt

What do you do when you're set up for failure? I'd guess that you'd try very hard to do something anyway. Even though you know deep inside that you'll fail. And even though the last time I tried to gather information was disastrous, Grandfather turned a blind eye and gave me a new spying assignment. In my humble opinion, he should go down south and live in a community home. Somewhere where his grand schemes can be absorbed into nothingness. 

Maybe nobody heard me, but I specified that I failed his previous "information gathering" session. I gave myself up to relish the humour of seeing my bitter enemy rack his brain. I didn't tell anyone that I deviated from the master plan, and it seemed as if nobody cared. 

After both Father and Grandfather left us to be, I slunk back to my room and shut the door. Weimar tried to stop me and asked me to stay but I shook my head and left. I felt queasy from the canned peach and wasn't up to socialising. 

My room (or Weimar's extra room) was where I kept to most of the time. Although I wasn't happy about the pink wall colour or the painted tree (Hungary's idea), I liked the low cabinets and soft lamps. I even had a balcony with a window that opened outside so I could see everyone and nobody could see me. I had many stacks of newspapers milling around with a couple of albums and cookbooks. In the only glass curio, I kept a professional camera, a clay figurine, and a collection of stamps. I liked to photograph often.  

Feeling quite unusually bored and sick, I peeled off my clothes and burrowed into the soft duvet, oblivious to the growling of my stomach. With luck, I'd sleep till the next morning. 

But of course, that didn't happen. The next thing I knew, I was being shaken awake very violently. I was partially afraid that it was Soviet Union who might have broken into the apartment and wanted to throttle me. But he wouldn't be whimpering and sobbing like that...

"Drittes!" he was whimpering very annoyingly, I might add. Ah, Weimar. I swatted my hand in his vague direction and groaned. 

"What?" I hissed groggily, still fuzzy from sleep. 

Relief flashed in his gaze. "Oh, you're alive."

"You thought I was dead?" I questioned. "That's why you had to shake me like that?"

His eyes were round with apprehension. "I thought you were sick,"

"Rule number one: don't ever shake an ill person. Especially so violently." I berated him. 

"Sorry," he apologised meekly. "I didn't know."

I smiled. "Anyway, I die when I want to, not when somebody tells me to."

He wiped his brow. "Okay. That's good. I have dinner if you'd like." he started to back out of the room. "Germany is back as well."

"You better have spared his conscience about Father," I said through gritted teeth. 

"I'll let you deal with that," he answered and left me to collect my things, get dressed, and come out into the bright lights of the kitchenette. Germany was sitting on a stool near the window, picking half-heartedly at his food, looking out the window wistfully. I washed my hands under the tepid water and slid into a chair facing my son. He made no effort of acknowledging my presence until I greeted him. 

"How was your day?" I asked. 

He looked up at me. "It was good...better than many days." 

"That's good," I smiled. "I'm glad somebody has had a good day."

He looked up at me timidly, his eyes wide. "Did you have a good day?"

I looked pointedly at Weimar. "It was tiring, but fine."