Neutral Ground (APH Switzerland, France)

Vash had learnt from a very young age that in order to survive, one must adapt. When war broke out in 1939 the world was once more turned upside-down. Germany advanced with frightening speed, firstly occupying Austria, then Czechoslovakia and Poland, then moving slowly conquering and infecting the rest of Europe. There was resistance (of course there was) but it did little to stem the rising Nazi tide.

He had remained neutral, something very few other nations managed to do in the chaos. He knew, though, that neutrality in a situation such as the world was facing now was like slow poison, so he had adapted just as he had always done.

“This is outrageous! Do you have any idea what you are doing, what you are enabling to happen out there?!”

“I know exactly what I am doing, Francis.” He said in a clipped, measured tone, “I am ensuring there will be food on the plates of my people.”

“At the expense of Allied lives!”

Adapting didn’t always make friends. Despite his overwhelming opposition of Nazi policy, he’d had to keep his head above water and ensure he didn’t go bankrupt; in order to do that he had turned to exporting weaponry and cooperating with Nazi banks.

He frowned at his company, “I stand on neutral ground, and there is nothing I can do about that. You know I have no control over my exports once they’re delivered to their target and coming here to talk with me will do nothing to change that.”

At that, Francis sneered.

“So it does not matter to you that you are aiding the enemy here?!”

“It matters to me that they stay out and I stay alive.”

“So no, it does not. Mon Dieu, do you have any idea the horrors I’ve seen?”

All the anger seemed to deflate from him as he stared glumly into his coffee mug. Paris had fallen to the Nazis in 1940 after a month long battle, leaving Francis and his people exhausted. The Frenchman’s hair, a symbol of pride to him, hung limp around his shoulders and his face had taken on a gaunt, hollow look as if sleep was something that eluded him – which it probably did.

“I stand on neutral ground.” He repeated.

“Is it really so neutral? You help those monsters, Vash. You arm them with the guns that kill my men.”

“And I also help you. Do not discount that I also export weaponry to you and the allied forces. I don’t show any favouritism to either side, I’m just ensuring that I survive this war with myself intact.”

“Intact at the expense of our suffering?”

He sighed. “There is nothing that can be done, I will remain neutral and I will continue to supply weaponry to whomever needs it, Francis. Believe me, I don’t like Ludwig’s boss any more than you do, but unlike you, I can spare myself and Lili the heartache.”

Frustrated, Francis spoke, “And yet you let your friends suffer! Where is the compassion?”

He couldn’t stand it anymore. He would not sit on his own soil and let himself be lectured like this, not if the Frenchman was going to ignore his arguments. There was nothing he could do if he wished to remain neutral – and God did he wish for that, he would do anything if it meant Lili never had to go through the starvation she did after World War One.

“My compassion lies in the safety of my sister!” He snapped, “I cannot help you any more than I already am!”

At that Francis narrowed his eyes and stood. “If that is what you are claiming, then fine. I hope your ‘neutrality’ is worth the lives of French and British troops.” He turned and walked away without a goodbye, leaving Vash there to finish his coffee in silence.

It’s worth it, he thought, to ensure Lili and I get through this. If those wise-ass bastards try and cross my borders, then I’ll show them I’m prepared to fight for my neutrality. I’ll adapt and we’ll be fine. We’ll all be fine.