Bibliotheca Mundi

Chapter 3

It's now the morning of the next day. France woke up, had breakfast, and got ready. The day was pretty cloudy and windy, the sun sometimes peeking through the clouds. Once he arrived at his office, he sat down at his desk as he was doing it daily, going back to working on where he left the last time he was there. "I'm almost done getting ready for tomorrow's meeting... just need to do this... ça..." he was thinking to himself, reorganizing the different papers, contracts, and post-its.

Taking a break not long before lunchtime, France leans in his chair, looking up at the ceiling as he rests his elbows on the armrests and sighs. "So much work. I would rather be drinking wine on my balcony." he daydreams, glancing at the window behind him. He could see the Eiffel Tower from up there, standing strong in the center of Paris. Leaning back against his desk, he pulls out a letter from the small drawer under his table. Although it could be closed with a key, he always left it opened.

"Dear  ̷w̷a̷n̷  France,

We're in the middle of the war, however, I didn't forget your birthday. I wish you all the best, and victory against us. Don't be a stupid surrenderer, nor a deserter, like in your previous revolutions and whatever wars. I am counting on you.

Hope you have a good day, even if it's not the best time.

With love, England."

He couldn't stop reading each letter England was sending him. France always kept the last one with him in his office, while the rest was at home. He misses the days when they could be together without anyone coming in the way. But enemies can't be together. It's like that.

It was now lunchtime. France puts away all the papers, lost in his thoughts. "I need to talk about a treaty of peace... non. He called me... non plus. What if I say I'll explain later ? Or, it's hard to explain ?" Indeed, he needs to find a way to go see England. In times like that, every trip to another country, especially if they were from the opposite side, was controlled. If France wants to go to England, he will need a valid reason to tell his boss.

"Alright... just say there might be a chance for a peace treaty..." France thinks, trying to reassure himself as he stands in front of his boss' office door. Taking in a deep breath, he knocks and waits for an answer.

"Entrez !"

Pushing the door, France enters quietly, closing the office behind him.

"Take a seat."

France sits down across the man, thanking him.

Lifting his eyes up from the papers he was reading, he asks in a serious tone, "What brings you here ?"

"Monsieur, I would like to ask your permission for a visit to England."

"What's the reason ?"

Playing with his hands out of stress, France answers, "It's to talk about a possible peace treaty."

Staring for a moment in France's eyes, the politican leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Wasn't that the reason why you went there last time ?"

"Non, monsieur. Last time was for a different reason."

As he puts the end of his pen against his lips, the man continues thinking for a long moment. After a while, he leans on his crossed arms against the desk and answers with a sigh, "Be honest. It'll stay between you and me. Aren't you just making up reasons ?"

Shocked by what his boss just told him, France stumbles over his words, "N-non ! Que... What are you talking about !?"

Standing up from his chair and walking towards the window, holding his hands together behind his back, France's boss replies with a serious tone, "I'm not surprised you would lie to me. Our country and the United Kingdom have been in a long lasting alliance, helping each other in the past wars." Glancing at France, he continues abruptly, "But now we're enemies. They're our opponent, and we can't risk our country's security and our citizens' lives."

"What could happen to our citizens ? The war is going well for us, and we make sure what happens on the battlefield stays on the battlefield."

"It doesn't mean you shouldn't be careful."

"The only things that could threaten their lives are bombs launched from the sky. And... well..." France stops.

Understanding what he was thinking of, the man walks back next to his desk and looks down at France with a menacing frown. "Remind me the Rules."

Already regretting it, France looks ahead of him at the desk, not daring look up at his boss. He starts listing the Rules, trying to keep his voice from trembling, "Everyone must have a Book."

"Continue."

"It is forbidden to erase, alter, or write in the Book of any individual in any case."

"Except ?"

"In case of mental conditions, incurable by traditional medicine, only doctors with the government's permission may erase or alter an individual's past."

"Hm..."

"It is banned to remove any page out of any Book, for any reason, no exceptions."

Nodding after each rule France was listing, the politician puts his hand against the edge of the desk to get closer to him. "And the last one ?"

With a deep breath, not moving, he finishes, "It is forbidden to eliminate, partially or completely, any Book of any individual."

Walking back to his window, the boss continues, "These rules apply to everyone. No one is allowed to get rid of Books."

Now having the courage to look up, France thinks to himself, "I've lived through more than you. Laws don't stop people from breaking them."

Without giving an answer to the question France came here with in the first place, the leader tells him, coldly, "You may leave now."