Pelasgia
Established Nation
« Mon pays, ce n’est pas un pays, c’est l’hiver ! »
"My country is not a country; it's winter!"
- Unnamed Ottawan poet
"My country is not a country; it's winter!"
- Unnamed Ottawan poet
Beauport, Donnacona, The Ottawas
"Mr. Speaker, would the Honourable Member for Ladytown Centre be so kind as to honestly tell us whether he thinks that the Engellsh tongue is truly threatened in Westernesse?" inquired one the MLA*, before pausing for the live translation from Frankish to catch up. "If so, I would ask my honourable colleague to move north of the border—because it would seem that, to him, only Engellsh unilingualism can safeguard against this 'assimilation' that he so seems to fear!" A mix of applause and booing followed, along with cries by the Speaker for everyone to quiet down.
*Member of Legislative Assembly
On and on this tired conversation went, until, finally, the owner of the establishment had the good sense to change the channel to OTA SPORT—Ottawans' favourite channel for all things sports-related. At this decision, momentary applause followed, only to grow stronger once the establishment's patrons realised what was on screen: a thorough thrashing of the Point-du-loup Wolves, a small, insignificant hockey team of an equal small and insignificant town, by the famed Beauport Caribous. The match was not part of the national leagues, which is why it had flown under the radar—but, even a friendly game was better than watching the threatre of baboons known as the Estates General. Certainly, that was the view among those that frequented McConnor's Ivernish Pub, a staple of Beauport's vibrant university district, James Church, since 1985. One of the two university districts, that is, since Beauport hosted two world-renowned universities: the prestigious and well-funded University of James College (est. 1821), for the city's anglophone community; and the Université du Dannaconé à Beauport ("University of Dannacona in Beauport") or UDB, est. 1878, the flagship francophone Reformed university of the Province of Dannacona, and arguably the best francophone university in the Ottawas.
It was these universities that had attracted most of McConnor's regular costumers to the city, both from the Ottawas and the rest of Europe. Then again, on a fine summer day like this, one of the first of "true", sunny summer in this otherwise cold, grey and wintry country, attendance was not at all limited to students, many of whom had gone back home for the season. But it was still the case that the only handful of people in the pub not to cheer for the Caribous had come to Beauport to study.
"Maybe we should pretend to cheer a bit," said Lousie Marigny, the pale, gentle and rosy-cheeked girl with the reddish brown hair and blue eyes at the centre of the group. She looked like a personification Ottawas, and her reason for coming to the country's largest metropolis was just as stereotypical as her appearance: studying law at the University of James College. Sure, she was of pure Frankish stock for some 14 generations, but she had had the grades (and the Engellsh language skills) to make the better of the two universities... so why settle for UDB?
"You think they'll notice us otherwise?" asked her boyfriend, Jean Petrov. The son of political refugees from @Tarusa, the dark-haired and stern-faced 20-year old had only had the brains to make it into UDB for his engineering degree—though at least he had had the height and stamina to make the varsity swimming team, ensuring him a full scholarship throughout his studies. After all, everyone knew that UDB kicked James College's ass in every sport. Clearly, Petrov's priorities did not lie with the academic part of his scholarship...
"Oh, I bet they will," answered an even taller and even paler man to his Jean's right—his young brother by two years, Nicolas. "I mean," he added with a wide grin drawn on his face. "What will they do? Beat us?" He faced forward, exposing the red inscription on his all-white t-shirt: ROYAL OTTAWAN NAVY. Under the inscription was the emblem of the country's navy, which featured two heraldic dolphins and the Engell crown, among other symbols.
"Peaceful and compromising as always," Jean joked at his brother. They were big sure, and nobody would likely try to pick a fight with them... but, still, was it worth ruining their last day together before Nicolas headed down south to Saint James? "Do try not to be so confrontational once aboard your boat."
"When are you shipping off?" Louise interjected with honest curiosity. "Or aren't you allowed to tell us?"
"Oh, I don't see why I couldn't. I could just tell my brother, as my next of kin, and you could merely overhear us... Only, they haven't told me yet."
Nicolas had scarcely finished his sentence when a portion of battered cod landed landed just next to his head. "Hey, you, tallboy!" came the enraged explanation from the rotund, ginger man at the source of the unlikely projectile. "You going to cheer for the Caribous or what?"
"They're from Point-du-loup, the wolfie cubs!" cried his friend, somewhat skinnier and much darker-skinned.
Before Jean or Louise had a chance to deny it, Nicolas grabbed a beer bottle and stepped forward. "Yes, we are! Now throw something at me again, and I'll kick your butt harder than the Wolfs will kick your team's." Alas, Nicolas' grandstanding merely earned him a side of fries to the face.
"Now then!" came a voice from behind the bar. "I just repainted the this whole area, so don't you go throwing punches—or fish—in my store again! This here be fine maple wood, and quite aged and expensive maple wood too, so quiet down! Or else..." The elderly man pointed to a group of men at the edge of the establishment, who were all dressed suspiciously identical and boring officewear. "These fine lads will escort you to a cell, red uniform or not."
One of the men turned around and showed his badge, which identified him as one of the Royal Ottawan Constabulary—those famous officers whose ceremonial red uniforms and brown hats made them the emblem of the Ottawas even long after they had stopped riding around in horses. "Don't go around causing trouble, eh?" said the plain-clothes cop.
"Sorry!" said the two Caribous fanatics, before scrambling to pay and leave the bar.
"Thank you, sir!" a stunned Nicolas exclaimed. Jean and Louise were quick to join him.
Yet, the old man still seemed somewhat perturbed. "Oh, don't thank me yet, son," he announced, pointing to another of his patrons. "This here be Commander Kevin Cromwell, Royal Ottawan Navy. Now, I overheard your conversation with the young lady here, and I think you could use some education on dealing with classified information; eh?"
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