I have a mind too old for the modern age.
The slow rocking of the locomotive carries us at blinding speeds across wide expanses of countryside. In the ranches and open plains I can feel the sweat of settlers that once crossed in caravans puleld by horses. I can see past the electric lines and occasional road crossing into an age where men sweltered under the hot sun working themselves to the bone to build the transcontinental rails that carried passengers now. I have always felt somewhat at home with older nations, never really seemed to fit in with the crowd trying to modernize itself for the greater good or some shit like that. I was only a fifth of the nation I used to be and as a man, extremely displaced.
He's quiet across from me, young Alfred's gaze lifted to the skies. The shine of those bright, youthful eyes, the obnoxiously loud voice, that reckless and impulsive behavior. All of him, right down to the need to prove himself worthy to the world reminds me of my younger self. A crazed, underage teutonic knight throwing himself in over his head for the sake of gaining his father's attention. Germania never looked twice at me and nothing I did would change that. Alfred struggles for Arthur's approval even after all he's done. An amazing kid, really. Amazing kid.
Somehow, I seem to fit in with him. He doesn't mind I have a mind permanently trapped in a long dead era. He takes things as they come. Looks to the skies, his future, and doesn't dwell on the dead past. He has a hopeful, innocent mind. Never truly been hurt. Invinicible. Just like a kid. Everyone harasses him because they forget what it was like to be a kid. Some of the others never truly had a chance at childhood. Alfred may have decided his fate long ago but they forget that he is still a young child inside that heroic facade.
The world goes dark as we enter a tunnel. This is my mind. Dark, empty, and vast. Faint flashes of memory surround me bringing forth trials and tribulations hailed only as fairytales and historic achievements. This is no fairytale. This is my world. A world of blood, carnage, and monarchy. I carry with me eternally a spirit that cannont be broken. A spirit that will withstand the test of time even after the name Prussia is long buried in the sands of old history. It has been buried for well over sixty, seventy years now but no matter what happens in the records I know that in the eyes of those who knew me and in the hearts and souls of those who personally remember my great kingdom that I will live on. Prussia will never truly be dead.
The world goes bright. Back in the modern era. I sprawl out across the compartment seat and watch him slowly begin to doze off. I run my eyes over his neck down to the strong chest pulling tight his thin patriotic shirt. The boy worked hard for this country. Fought, worked, laughed, cried, and bled for it. His body tells me a hundred stories of building from the ground up, destruction, war, and bouncing back from it all greater and more proud than ever. These old crimson eyes see more than people may expect and down into depths in people that most others would not care to try and look for.
Perhaps I will find a new friend and a like-minded soul in a place I would never have expected.