ЦАРЬ KAISER - A Race to Conquer (Countryhumans)

Retaliation

Not one republic realised how hard it was to be retired. Every single one of them wanted to lie around and do nothing while someone esle took the front seat. I have to admit, I was the same way, ignorant of how the older generation, restless and furious, felt.

I was paying the price of this ignorance. I still do, day in and day out, as I watch my sons and grandson walk with purpose, while I withed in the shadows. No, retirement fit me like a suit too small.

I watched Weimar fiddling with the radio control for a while till he found a channel he liked, and settled to eat his muesli. Although it soon became steamy in in window, I had no wish to stand up and clear it up. It was a gloomy sort of day, and rain pattered outside in icy sheets. The channel had just switched on Beethoven's Lunar Sonata with a violin accompaniment. Weimar liked to sink deep into the autumn melancholy.

"Rain," he sighed. "Washing away the last vestiges of summer beauty."

I was spared to comment, since Drittes marched in, giggling. He dropped a plastic cup into the sink and turned off the radio. Weimar was scandalised.

"I wanted to listen to that!" He growled.

"Nonsense," Drittes replied airily. "You're getting all depressed for nothing."

Weimar bared his teeth but didn't say anything. He moodily crushed his oat and cornflakes. Drittes grinned.

"Perfect day to go outside and stand in the rain!" He said gleefully.

Weimar narrowed his eyes. "I doubt that you're happy because of that. Are you secretly in Grandfather's coup?"

"Always jumping to the worst," Drittes tapped his forehead with a spoon. "Relax." Weimar kept glancing in his direction worriedly. The morning wore on, but my youngest son showed no more suspicious signs, but did open all of the windows to let the drizzling rain into the flat. Weimar left for work, mercifully leaving me in peace.

"Keep watch on Drittes," he hissed in my ear.

"Hark, who is the father around here?" I bit back. "get on with it and leave."

With a scowl, he left the building. After a while, I had the idea to go for a walk outside. The rain was stopping, the wind died down. I told my son that I was leaving.

"Where?" he demanded.

"Just out."

"Can I come?"

"Fine, but quickly. Rain might start up again."

We left the flat and walked across a side street and down an alley to the main road. As all roads led to the square, I saw the limp black and white flags of Prussia hugging the poles and buildings.

"I wonder why there wasn't resistance," Drittes suddenly inquired, looking up at the flags. "nobody stood up in protest or anything."

"Because nobody cares," I growled.

"Huh," he blinked. "but they care about me. Interesting."

"Prussia hasn't murdered anyone, yet."

He sailed over my comment. "I wonder how he did it?"

"I don't-," my answer was cut off by a mad howl from one of the top rooms of the City Hall. I would have disregarded if it weren't so peculiar and familiar.

My son piped up before I could comment.

"What a familiar voice," Drittes tipped his head thoughtfully. "Those dulcet tones remind me of that outright slob, Soviet Union."

The scream issued again, with more force, and resonating with a crash.

"Peasant! Get your nasty visage out of my presence." No, that did not sound like Soviet Union.