The rest of 217 went by before we knew it and the rivalry between Alexandra and I continued to grow—at least in a good way, I would think. Not a day would pass when we would compete in some way or another—rather that be in sports, test scores, or other activities like simulation battles. But never was I able to beat her at anything—if this was some third-rate M-Drama she’d almost be the perfect main character in every way. I like to think we had an interesting bond unlike that I have with Friederika. Friederika is Friederika to me, of course, but Alexandra…

When our summer break started in December, we wished each other goodbye and I hoped to see her in one piece the coming February—if there was one truth about our discussion earlier in the year, it was that there was certain unrest in her colonial systems. And things over there in the Ruthenian continued to get more heated by the day.

Not a day goes by when the old wrinkly blokes on the telly would get into tomato-red arguments about the issues regarding colonial divisions having autonomous naval squadrons of their own—and supposedly that spooks the bloody hell out of Capitol Hill. ‘It’s a threat to the stability of the Federation’ — ‘if a policy of appeasement failed, they very well orbit Terra in a week’ — ‘Colonial navies are a direct infringement of the constitution!’ — ‘Horatio would be rolling in his grave if he saw us now! 

It was not only the Ruthenians that old wrinkly politicians were spooked by—but also the Frankish Domain.

“—The Franks have for the longest time bowed to the insufferable demands of the Senate. But they have been too quiet— and total silence is often a greater sign of trouble than the cries of resentment towards Sydney. ‘For you know not if the commoners are merely sharpening their tools in the shadows, out of sight and out of mind.’

…Some of you now mirror the very same distrust—bordering cautious sentiment—towards the humble Franks… the very same people who supply us with material for our navy and bread for the hungry populaces of Sol. Even though they have done no wrong… a seed of unease that bloomed all too quickly—all because of the situation unfolding with their Ruthenian brothers…”

It’s those kinds of debates and addresses in Sydney that father would spend the days watching, or so mom says—but whenever he took notice of me he’d turn it off and we’d hang out. Father was never much for politics—it was never up his alley. But mom laments the recent developments with Ruthenia flipped a switch in him. He definitely became more tuned in, and perhaps I was his one and only break from those kinds of things. Whenever I visited we’d always do the same thing as always—hunting, grilling, and so on.

The coming February means the full force of Aussie summer—and the return back to Canberra Institution. I can only wonder what the academic year has in store for us.