Memories of Ghosts

Six: What's Your Worth?

**I'll probably say this for every chapter but THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING THIS FIC!! I'm having such a great time writing and I'm glad to see you guys are enjoying it as well. I'm sorry though if I can't get future chapters out on time; college is back in session so I'll need to find time to write (which may be very limited) but don't you worry—I'll try my best to reach out to you guys to let you know on future updates. No way am I ever giving up on England and Elizabeth! 😉 **

30 March 2017

All countries shuffled into the large conference room that was to hold the world meeting and they all looked around them just like they did back in the lobby. In the middle of it all sat a long wooden table with wheeled chairs lining the length of it and an additional round table was positioned at the far-right end, more chairs circling it. A projector suspended from the ceiling and was aimed at the wall behind the spherical table which was where a whiteboard was hung.

But it certainly wasn't the typical office supplies that caught everyone's attention—it was the huge stacks of written records that occupied each counter that surrounded the room, pushed against the beige walls disorderly to create space for the much-needed tables and chairs.

Arthur glimpsed at his immediate right. There stood a high pile of old papers upon a desk with black cording tied around it all and a yellow post-it note stuck on the top with the word SPAIN scribbled across it.

These must be all the written passports that the Americans prepared for each settler that came to the island, he guessed, scanning down the row while the countries around him searched for their own marked piles. He caught Kiku interestedly flipping through his papers and heard Lovino Vargas mutter under his breath, "Oh yeah, I remember this guy—he was an asshole." Arthur frankly wasn't interested in discovering his former citizens' records; while everyone else found it fascinating or memorable, he found it sad and perhaps a little defeating.

"Ah, hola, Inglaterra. Qué pasa con la cara larga?"

He turned at the mention of his Spanish name. He caught sight of the tall brunet nation saunter over, his large green eyes peering at him curiously. "You look mighty tired, old friend. Have you gotten any sleep lately?"

Arthur rolled his eyes slightly and combed his fingers through his hair, trying to arrange it around so that it could shield his face somewhat from prying judgements. "I'm fine, Spain. Have you gotten your colossal nose out of people's businesses yet?"

Antonio blinked in surprise before bursting into laughter. "Now there's the England I know." He glanced beside him. "Oh, hey, you found my pile of records! How neat." He began flipping through the wrinkled papers with a wide smile across his face and a fluctuating tone to his voice as he went on and on about the names he recognized among the identifications. Arthur didn't pay him much attention as he was distracted with protecting his wedding ring from Antonio's wandering eyes.

He would know about Elizabeth more than anyone else, he thought grudgingly.

He eventually settled on switching his briefcase to his right hand and stick his left into his jacket pocket when Antonio spoke his name again: "Oh, England! I think I saw yours over by Germany's. The stack was so high, I thought I was looking up at Russia for a moment." He chuckled at his own joke while Arthur remained solemn.

His eyes flicked to the giant German nation standing alone by the wall opposite them, scanning through his records. A sudden frown creased his lips once he spotted the mountainous pile of documents placed next to Ludwig; it came to the middle of his chest which meant that it came to just below Arthur's shoulders.