Bibliotheca Mundi

Chapter 1

"Sir, the last books have just arrived. What are your next orders ?"

"Burn them."

***

24th of February. Early morning. London, England.

France is sitting on the chair across the table, the newspaper of the day in his hands.

"Want some tea ?"

"Hm, oui..."

Putting a cup of tea he prepared next to France, England sits in front of him with his own. The room was filled with a heavy, dark silence.

"I can't get over the fact Germany lost. How ??"

No answer is heard. No one had it.

"His soldiers are the best in Europe, his army is the strongest, his weapons the most efficient, yet all of them died in one fight ??"

Putting the newspaper down, France glances at the tea next to him.

"You don't know what my boss is capable of..." England answers with a frail voice, staring this whole time at his cup, the same way France is.

"What kind of 'ability' is it to fight an army without losing almost any of his soldiers ?"

Replying with a long sigh, England doesn't move. His eyes had bags under them, and his skin was pale. He wished he could make that long-lasting war stop between him and Europe.

"You shouldn't be here. My boss was kind enough to allow me to rest at home for a day, I don't want him to know you're here..."

Looking up at England, trying to catch his eyes with his, France reassures him, "I know... I was about to get ready." Noticing he lowered his head even more, France stands up to walk around the table and crouch next to England's chair, finally getting to see his eyes. Gently wrapping his fingers around the fist that his hand formed on his lap, he adds, "Repose-toi bien..." before kissing the corner of his teary eye.

Now that the door was closed and locked, England is alone, once again, with his thoughts, and two other cups of cold tea.