Is update nao. :3
Probably too much wangst put into it, but I needed to get this aside first.
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Lecture Hall, Kyonigsberg State University
Present
It had been an hour and a half since the start of the lecture, several more if the morning session was counted. What enthusiasm and attention the students had had long been eaten away, and while those who still held a genuine interest in history could keep an unearthly focus on the lesson, most seemed contend to distract themselves with scenery or slumber. Peering at his freckled, curly haired friend Petr as he laid face-first on the desk, Stanislaw felt a grudging pity for the professor. Given Roman's profession, he was sure he had encountered this plenty of times. For him to remain that optimistic was quite a surprise. As the silver-haired lecturer tried to provoke the class' attention again with the Hungarian Uprising, the lad could not help but think the information was for mere show. After all, why else would he add a seemingly unnecessary tidbit of Yevgeny's life after droning on about the early days of military administration of the oblast? Granted, there was not really much of note at all from the latter. The most the military ever did was bring in East Slavic workers to build their bases. There was no reason to care about their wellbeing to any extent beyond the running of the bases. It was only after Yevgeny took charge that things changed decisively.
“Ok, it's been hours, I know. I think that's about all for today. Do remember, that from next week onwards, all classes will be on Saturdays, except this coming one. Anyone who's been keeping track of the time will know why.”
As if on cue, wails of agony began to reverberate all over the room as students began to panic and mourn in quick succession. Standing with his head clutched, the freckled boy screamed at the top of his lungs in point blank range, causing the Pole to wince at his reaction. Discomforted, he questioned, “do you have to scream like that, Petr. Don't tell me you forgot about school.”[1]
“I haven't done my homework yet, Stan, and we only got three days to enjoy before we go back,” Petr whined, “what, don't tell me you've finished-”
“I finished my work long ago, Petr,” Paulina stated flat out, “lets me clear my head for the rest of the winter break. Maybe you should have done the same.”
“How dare you,” the Czech growled, “what about you then, Stan? Ready to burn some midnight oil with me.”
Giving a bit of an awkward smile as the lad slung his arm over his shoulder, all Stanislaw could admit was, “sorry... I already finished too. I felt I should concentrate on the history lectures, so I spent the start of the break completing the assignments.”
Seething with petty outrage, the hapless young man could only huff at the friends' 'betrayal', crossing his arms as he groaned, “some friends you two are. And here I thought we could spend some time working on the assignments.”
“If you need help,” Stanislaw simply stated, “just ask. I'll come over anytime.”
However, pouting a bit at his offer, Paulina reprimanded, “don't pamper him, Stan. Let him figure his homework out for himself.”
Shaking his head as his two classmates began to bicker over his involvement, the Pole could only lament his predicament. In all honesty, he only finished his work early so he would not have to worry about it later. And true enough, Petr's reaction showed him the consequences of neglect in full. As he tried to pull his focus away, he heard the nervous professor tried to call for their attention again. This time, though, it was about their next lesson, and what to expect.
“Alright, settle down,” he calmed, “you still have the weekend, so good luck with that, I guess. However, something to note about next lesson before I release you. Whatever you do, do not come for the lesson here, because we won't be holding a lecture here. Instead, report to the National Museum at 10 am sharp.[2] For those reporting from their school, please ask your teachers on the details. Also, I'll be handing you your first assignment for your history course, which will be a written report on a specific figure covered for the first part of our lectures. More details will be coming when we're at the museum, because it'll be easier for me to explain there. Any questions, please come forward. If not, have a... happy weekend, I suppose?”
From the mass of groans filling the room, it was hard to think anyone other than Stanislaw could enjoy their weekend at this juncture. Then again, not everyone had the foresight to do their work, and like many his age, last minute rushes were but a malignant normality.
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Outside, Kyonigsberg State University
Present
Stepping out of the Albertina's front door, the chatter of high school students continue to fill the air over the coming days, and the anticipated approach of the second school semester. Some bemoaned the impending hell awaiting them, especially those whose assignment sheets had remained unanswered for the whole winter break. Others were rapidly drafting plans to squeeze whatever fun was left for their break, though a small minority compared to their lax classmates. And some eagerly anticipated the trip to the National Museum in the old Königsberg Stock Exchange building. Refurbished and reopened just a few years prior, few had yet to visit the history museum.
Pacing down the steps, the Singenwaldhang nonet were still debating their next course of action. Among them, the two 'amber-heads' were in full panic mode, hollering their friends for help to little avail. The twintail midget, among the grave offenders with due homework, remained defiant and silent, despite the gravity of her situation. The rest, however, remained dutiful students as always, forced to bemoan their friends' laziness. But the incessant pleas from their friends hardly made the situation better, with Ausra as the most desperate of the three.
“... for the last time, you can't copy my homework,” snapped Ritva, trying to pry the blubbering Ausra off her as she locked the Finn's waist in her arms, “I warned you this would happen! What have you been doing when we were studying together these past few days!? And you said we needed to practice our routine!”
“Please, I need you,” begged Ausra, “if I can't complete my math, I'll be held back a grade! Please, I beg of you...”
“We should just help her out, Ritva...” blurted the hapless ash-blonde Mariyne, “I mean, we can't let her copy our work, but we can teach her. Wouldn't that be better?”
“She's un-teach-a-ble,” the raven-haired girl griped, “god damn, stop crying, we're in public!”
“Pleaaaaase,” the persistent girl whined, nearly causing the hapless prisoner to trip. True enough, despite her stern-looking expression, all Ritva could do was relent. Batting an eyelid as Zisel tried the same routine with her fellow first years, she finally answered, “fine... we'll help you. Same with Zisel.
But, you have to figure your answers yourself. We're only going to help you revise, ok?”
Brightening up almost instantly, the jovial airheads let out a yelp as she raised her arms in the air in praise. Watching Ritva raise her palm to her land in regret, the unnerved midget tried hard to resist asking. But as she felt a pair of hands massaging her shoulders deviously, she jolted at the creepy touch. Her calm failing, she could hear a whisper, “sure you don't need help too, Tarana?...”
“D-Don't be silly,” the red-eyed Azeri insisted, trying to avoid the gaze of the towering, buxom peer, “I could do my work just fine... Why would I need help. I mean...”
“
Would be a problem if you get held back for remedial,” Ludmilla silently inched forward, her face dangerously close to her victim as she whispered in her ear, “we don't want to have to practice our performances without you, do we?”
Biting her lip as cold sweat broke from her forehead, Tarana quickly broke, admitting, “i-i-if you insist. Please take good care of me...[3]”
“You hear that, Maria,” teased the elder at the bob-haired redhead, “we could use a place to study~”
“Why does everyone keep asking me to be the host,” Maria groaned, “anyone's house would be fine.”
“Because you have the nicest villas~,” the nonchalant senior stated, “I'm sure everyone agrees.”
“Let's go to Maria's,” Zisel rejoiced, “more than enough room for the nine of us!”
“What do you think, Vasilka,” Ludmilla asked of the blonde, “it'll be fun-hm?”
Out of the nine, however, it was Vasilka appeared the most nervous. Her head bowed a bit as if deep in thought, she seemed as if she too had forgotten her assignments. But Ludmilla knew her too well to be this careless, and the group knew beforehand she was already done by their previous study session. The blonde had reason to worry, but the cause was more immediate.
“Oh, you were saying something,” she asked Ludmilla, snapping out of her thoughts. Watching her friend's thought drift, Ludmilla answered assuringly, “relax, Vasilka. We're still here for you. If that girl dares to snap at you again, we'll stand by you no matter what.”
“Are you sure,” the worried ponytail-wearing blonde spoke, biting her lip at the idea, “you don't know these New Prussia fanatics. Everything they see wrong about this country gets pinned on us for blame. To them, we're nothing but a family of dictators. Everyone of us are considered devils itching to seize power like my uncle and granduncle. And I'm just from the extended family. What about Rayka? She's only a first year, and looks like a grade-schooler. She's already staying at the most pro-Fatherland part of the country and she still gets harassment from social justice warriors and journalists. I'm too tired to talk about such things, not the least to some youth wing zealot.”
Peering beside Vasilka's head, Ludmilla and her friends could already see said zealot making her way out. True enough, Farah's eyes remained glued to the Tonchev's head, even with Vasilka refusing to face her. Farah's friends, however, appeared to have more sense than her, trying to pull her away before she created a scene. How the girl could be this persistent was beyond her.
"Bugger off her already," Yana tried to restrain her, as the nine began distancing themselves from Farah and her friends, "what do you have against her? She just another student."
"She's not just 'another student'," Farah growled, "you heard her. She's-"
"She's former PM Tonchev's niece. So what," Ahmed stated flat out, "she hasn't made it a big deal. Why should you?"
"You don't know them, Ahmed," Farah snapped, "people like her... are the reason why this country is sucked so deep in despotism. Her family profitted from turning the country into a giant arms factory. They silenced and weeded out dissent. They ousted my father and tore his vision for a peaceful, modern Prussia apart. How is that not a big deal!? And don't pretend you never heard that, woman!”
Pausing at the foot of the stairs as her friends nervously looked on, Vasilka could only sulk at the raving schoolgirl behind her. Not that she failed to understand where she was going – her very words had betrayed her true identity. However, to believe that Prussia was at its darkest under the Tonchevs... as much as she tried to resist any futile measure to correct her, it was becoming extremely clear she was not going to get silence regardless.
“What do you want me to do then,” Vasilka snidely replied, turning back to face her with a heavy glare, “get on my knees and apologize? Sorry, but I have no reason to assuage your ego, Miss Gram. Maybe you should check your facts before you give such fiery accusations.”
“'Gram',” Zisel questioned in bewilderment, "what is she talking about?”
“Don't tell me you don't recognize her...” Ludmilla clarified with her, as the group observed the confrontation with utter dread, “Farahnaz Gram is the daughter of Henrik Abraham Gram, first Prime Minister of West Baltic-Prussia and founder of the independence party, New Prussia. He ousted Vasilka's granduncle, Chairman of the Presidium, Valeriy, and her uncle, Viktor, served in Gram's cabinet as Minister of the Interior during the first years of independence. Then, her uncle broke ranks along with half of New Prussia' elected ministers to form the opposition party, Fatherland Front. They defeated Gram in the first post-Soviet general elections in 1996, and he became the second Prime Minister. To put it simply, our princess is salty, that the 'hero of Prussia' was booted from office after a single term.”
Livid, Farah appeared eager to march right at the blonde's face for a tight slap. But held back by her nervous friends, she was ultimately hamstrung into firing more verbal abuse. Angered, she barked, “I checked my facts perfectly! Maybe you should do the same! Are you going to tell me the detentions your uncle made in his tenure were 'necessary', and that arming the nation to the teeth and selling the excess was 'essential' to the economy!?”
“Prussia became a first world nation under my uncle,” Vasilka stated resolutely, clearly undaunted by the accusations as she jabbed her pointed finger at Farah in the distance, “his cabinet built the economy and armed forces from ground up. He destroyed Rodina and other extremist groups that threatened to divide our people. Your father lost the elections because he treated Prussia like a refugee camp than a actual country. He forgot his commitments to the citizenry and the electorate responded in kind. You blame me and my family for every perceived ill that had befallen our country, but ask yourself; what has New Prussia done for us? I can list out everything that had gone wrong under your party's administration and you'd still deny it.”
“How dare you,” Farah blurted in outrage, her eyes wide in shock and indignity as Vasilka shot down her charges, “my father fought for the rights and freedoms of every individual here including yours! How did Tonchev answer that? He split the party in two and tried to sell our nation out to Russian demagogues! He sealed off Prussia's borders and whipped up anti-Muslim hysteria to push his cause! He even sabotaged entry negotiations into the EU-”
“-and look what happened to Prussia after New Prussia won back the Seym,” Vasilka countered immediately, increasingly matching Farah's volume in kind as she grew impatient with the activist, “common market? Freedom of movement? Collective security? Our country is being dragged down with the Eurozone as we speak.[5] We've traded a Russian garrison with an American one. Syrian refugees are overwhelming our borders because the 'shining beacons' of Western democracy couldn't find a single 'moderate' rebel to back. We were going to join the EFTA and access the European market without handing over control of our finances.[6] We were committed to neutrality and mutual friendship with both East and West. We had the power to control the tide of migrants into our country to manageable levels. Your party burned everything we stood for in the name of political correctness and self-obsessed social justice!”
“Then why not join the EAU if you care so much about Russia,” snapped Farah again, “why not the CSTO! You said neutrality would protect us. Look what happened to Georgia and Ukraine! You said Fatherland wanted to reduce immigration to manageable levels, then why is it that only Muslim migrants are being locked outside!? You said joining the EU was a mistake...”
Biting her lip, Farah was actually lost for words on that point. She hated to admit it, but the current situation in the Eurozone made startlingly powerful fuel for Eurosceptic rhetoric such as Vasilka's. It was a disturbing sentiment that was spreading throughout Europe, not the least in Prussia itself. If the latest electoral campaigns are to show for, many people are unhappy and exasperated with New Prussia's Europhilic goals. And fear of Fatherland Front's record for authoritarian leanings failed to outweigh their message of order and stability in a chaotic world.
But while Farah had cut her tongue, Vasilka merely kept silent, her arms crossed as she tried to rack her brains for a way out of the debate. They were wasting all their time, but while Vasilka was too tired to continue arguing with such a persistent character, she hated to concede either. Her family, in her view, did nothing wrong. They were not traitors as Farah had actively billed them, and she was not about to give her the pleasure to gloat about it.
Fortunately, a honk from the porch managed to break the stalemate for them.
Halting in front of the bickering students was an Iveco LMV, the insignia of a black eagle interspaced with an anchor showing by the side. Anyone who knew the military could tell it was from the Prussian marines, but its appearance at the center of a university was quite unusual. Poking her a head out of the window from the driver's seat for a look, a relatively young East Asian in an olive uniform with a strange set of lotus hair decs had her handphone pinned to her ear. Right on cue, a faint buzz was echoing from Yana's pocket, forcing her to release her friend's arm as she picked up her call.
“Yana, you there,” the marine driver's voice spoke in her ear, “what's going on? You have a fight with Farah?”
“No, mother...” the Korean responded nervously, looking over at the LMV as the growing mob around her had their attention fixed on them, “it's just... Just a little scuffle. Farah is getting hyper, as usual. I'll be right down.”
Hanging her phone, the sulking girl cast a nervous gaze at Farah as she questioned leaving the boys to deal with her. Sensing the chance to break off, Vasilka quietly turned away as the nine began pacing off again. Annoyed, the Tajik barked, “where do you think you're going!? We're not done yet!”
“Farah, are you done yet,” Yana growled, batting an eyelid at her persistence, “are you going to create a scene every time you two meet? We'll be seeing them every weekend for the entire semester onwards. Are you going to make yourself miserable by confronting her every single time?”
Buttoning up her lower lip, Farah could not help but relent at her friend's demands. In all honesty, Farah herself was growing weary of such courtroom debates, not the least due to the unwanted attention she had attracted to herself. A glare at the blonde Russian as she turned back for the last time was met only with cold silence, as if Vasilka was done wasting her breath, or unwilling to agitate her to speak further. Bowing her head a bit, she could tell she was being unreasonable to begin with. What, she felt, was she expecting out of Toncheva anyway? She dared not admit it, but her opposite might have guessed right about her. Did she really expect Viktor's own family members to apologize for a decade of Fatherland rule, or condemn him for his actions? She could never imagine saying the same scathing rhetoric the blonde had of Gram.
“Excuse me...” she grunted, making a hasty retreat back into the Albertina. From the look on her grudging face, Farah seemed close to tears, and desperate not to show them in front of her designated rival. Concerned, the hapless Ahmed questioned, “should I?...”
“Let her bawl her eyes out on her own,” Yana stated, “best to give her some space. Sorry, I got to go. My mother's waiting.”
“Ah...” Sergei merely blurted, still stunned by the whole affair, “bye then.”
Rushing down the steps onto the porch, the hapless girl hesitated as she peered at the nonet again. Biting her lip, she muttered to the girls, “look... I...”
“No need to apologize for her,” stated Vasilka, tempering her frustration as her tone softened noticeably, “I've seen it before. I doubt she hasn't been on the receiving end of this, so her reactions aren't all that surprising. However, I hope she keeps quiet from now on. Let's not make another scene at the museum, for everyone's sake.”
“Yeah...” Ausra pleaded with her hands clapped in prayer, “we don't want to get kicked out, do we? And we don't want the professor to get angry too, right?”
Guilty, the black-haired Asian could only bow her head, replying in an uncertain voice, “ah... We'll keep watch on her.”
Watching the girls depart, Yana herself doubted if she could keep Farah silent for long. She had known the girl too long, and the idea that a hero like Henrik Gram could be brought down so easily just did not sit well for her. Getting into the other side of the LMV, she was not sure how to answer her mother on this. Anyone with a smartphone would have this on Youtube in a few moments, and the world would laugh at Farah's antics.
Again.
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Later, in the LMV
“You worried about your friend, Yana,” the marine officer asked her passenger, driving through the crowded evening streets of the city as Yana sat in deep thought.
“Ah...” Yana admitted, “this isn't the first time she made a scene. She disrupted the class when that Toncheva girl answered the professor's question. I don't what's driving Farah crazy. It's not like she's the one being confronted. Anyone could tell she was agitating for a response.”
“I suppose... some people want to reclaim honour for their families,” her mother tried to surmised, “for a lack of a better word. This Toncheva girl... is her father Viktor?”
“No. Lyubomir. Viktor is her uncle,” Yana replied.
“Lyubomir...” mused the driver, “I think I remember him. Splitting image of his father, Vladimir. Your father and I actually attended Viktor Tonchev's wedding. Your grandparents, your uncle and great-gran too. Viktor's wife was the sister of your father's teammate in the Soviet Olympic swimming team. Small world...”
“Wait,” blurted Yana, “you know the Tonchevs?”
“Not really,” she mused, “acquaintances, perhaps, but I wouldn't count myself close. Your great-gran though, worked with Mr Valeriy in the Committee for Resettlement back when she was a young woman. She refused to speak about it, though. Your father felt she probably never got over the fact that he had your great-grandfather die in a Siberian gulag.”
“I see...” Yana queried, increasingly unnerved by the links, “did... Great-gran ever mention about great-grandfather?”
Shaking her head, however, all her mother could say was, “she wouldn't tell us, not even your grandfather. All she would say was that he was a brilliant man who helped build Prussia as it is today. But she would never tell us who he is exactly. Perhaps she feared the KGB will take your grandfather away, or she simply did not want any unwanted attention. I'm sure you've heard before. They accuse her of being Stolypin's spymaster and even lover. Some even go as far as claim they were married in secret. She would never tell, though. She was impossible to break. But she told us she left a clue for us to find, particularly for you, Stefan (Yana's brother) and your cousins. Try asking Ana. I believe she still has it written somewhere.”
Pulling her hair back, Yana was unsure what to expect anymore. Her head was still reeling from the lecture, and Farah's unprovoked verbal assault had only made it worse. She could only muse the irony of her family ties with the Grams' political enemies. Most of all, she questioned her great-grandmother's role in it all, the nasty old crone who, in her youth as a black widow, had a hand in stuffing thousands of Koryo-saram like herself into train cars bound for Kaliningrad, just to meet Yevgeny's unreasonable quotas on West Baltic's future demographics. It all made as little sense as her South Korean romance drama.
“Small world...” was all she could say, as the vehicle made its way back through the crowded rush hour traffic. She was not sure what to believe anymore, and she dreaded the day of the museum visit more than ever.
- The school year starts in the first week of September, with the second half starting after winter break on the week after the Eastern Orthodox Christmas Day.
- Königsberg Stock Exchange, one of the few building that was rebuilt IOTL.
- よろしくお願いします
- Fatherland Front. Politics post for more information.
- Greek Eurozone crisis.
- European Free Trade Association.
Cast
- Faculty
- Students
- St Wojciech (Adalbert) of Prague Catholic High School
- Blühenderwald High School
- Singenwaldhang Girls High School (from left to right)
- Aušra Švedaitė
- Ritva Pajari
- Mariyne Mugu
- Maria Hayrapetyan
- Tarana Irevani
- Vasilka Lyobomirova Toncheva
- Ludmilla Aleksandrova von Ungern-Sternberg
- Leila Pääsuke
- Zisel Kaufmann
