Chapter 1: The Search
The world has become so cold. Falling apart as a brickle snowflake. As a scene of tears and blood play out for all to see. How did the world ever reach this far. It alone wiping everything humans loved and treasured the most. As nations have no choice but to watch it play out, hoping for a fair ending. Nations would become stronger or weaker...or leave the universe forever.
"Keep looking!" A white hair, red-eye, man order in an icy venom tone.
His men not wasting a moment to stay near him any longer then what was given. With this war finally coming to a stop. The winner leaving without a second glance and taking what was left. The loser, holding to whatever life he had left.
"Where are you?"
"Mon ami, je pense que c'est le meilleur, que nous l'appelons rapides. Il est introuvable." A blond man told him, resting a friendly hand on the other's shoulder.
"No, I can't leave it like this, France. Please, just a bit more."
"Darle otro diez y si nada, entonces eso es todo. Vamos a casa después de esto." A tan skin man asked the blond French man.
"You have ten minutes, but that is it." The blond hair man finally said.
"Thank you, Francis. Antonio." Moving away, to help his men. He had to fine him.
The white hair man could feel the time ticking the more the search went on. It was starting to become hopeless. That he would never see his...
"Sir! We found him!"
Those words spark a little hope in his fading heart. Rushing to where a small group of men were standing. Surrounding a small body, covered in blood. To the white hair man, he couldn't care less, he had finally found his brother.
"Brother, come open your eyes. Your wonderful, ocean blue, eyes." Giving the small child more chanting words to listen to him. Slowly it was working.
The child was soon groaning in pain, opening just a sliver of his eyes to the taller man. Who was giving him a kind smile. He did nothing back, no movement of his body. Just a blink from his eyes.
"Who are you?"
"My name is Gilbert, your brother." The man just had to smile at the words that left his lips.
The lad nodded his head, resting in Gilbert's chest and felled back to sleep. The older man let him, rising up from the ground and taking him back to his horse with care. The search was done, giving word to his men, that they could leave this hell-hole.
Francis and Antonio followed after Gilbert, who was settling on his horse. They did the same and went home. Far from bloody waste land, that was filled with nothing but bad nightmares.
"He has lost his memory." Gilbert could feel it in his bones.
"That would be good thing, Gilbert." France said to him, as they treaded on through the lands back home.
"Holy Roman Empire is no more, Gilbert, this is your chance to make things right."
Looking down at the weakling of a child. They raised a good point. He wasn't there for him when he was a babe. Maybe this was a chance for him to patch that rift that grew over the time he was gone from his life.