Cornwall ⅠNation State

　　In a parallel universe, Nazi Germany wins. It's a world where the Reich persists, a world where Hitler's fascism never comes to an end, a world where the Jews of the European are enslaved or eradicated. But even after more than two decades, there are still people in this world who are willing to risk their lives and wealth to fight for what they believe is right.

　　Cornwall established a small Cornish nation-state as independence from England, and on a small coastal island they built a small concentration camp. A place where they could send political prisoners or people that were considered dangerous, even a threat to the government and the Führer's regime.

　　Bricstow, originally Bristol, Nazi Germany or the Risers say that after the victory of the Great Germanic State it reverted to its Saxon name from 1064 to 1204, the original Saxon capital. Bricstow was once a small Saxon trading centre, Now a thriving port city.

　　——

　　A young Cornish girl pedaled her bicycle down the street toward the high school. As she approached the intersection, a youthful patrolman stepped into her path, raising his hand in command. "Halt! Inspect ID!" he ordered.

　　The girl slowed her bike, reached into her schoolbag, and pulled out her ID card. She extended it to the officer, who scrutinized it closely, squinting as if deciphering ancient runes. His gaze shifted to her face. "Thy name is Abigail?" he inquired, and she nodded.

　　"My name is Abigail," she replied, her accent mirroring that of a local girl. "I hail from a family of farmers in the countryside." The patrolman returned her ID card, and she tucked it away.

　　"Full well," he grumbled, waving his hand dismissively. "Kip thy mauth shut in scol. Spik Anglish, not English." With a curt nod, he motioned for her to continue. "Ride slow."

　　Abigail grinned. "Thank you, officer," she said, playfully offering a Nazi salute. "Hi! Victory!"

　　"Hai! Viktory!" The officer mirrored her salute, and she pedaled away on her bicycle. As she distanced herself from the stern patrolman, her laughter bubbled up, and her features softened back into a human guise. "Idiot," she muttered to herself.

　　Arriving at the school gates, she dismounted and walked her bike to the rack. She secured the chain around the bars, inserted the key into the lock, and stowed the chain in her backpack. The imposing name—Bricstow Stadt High School No. 5—was etched on the front door.

　　Abigail, with her blonde hair, blue eyes, freckles, and glasses, entered the school. Just beyond the gates stood an effigy—an imposing likeness of the British Prime Minister, Winston Churchill. Without hesitation, she delivered a swift kick to the statue. Her defiance echoed through the hallway.

　　Inside, another portrait adorned the wall. Several girls curtsied as they passed. "Hi! Hitler!" Abigail called out, her voice both daring and mischievous.

　　"Hail! Führer!" Their footsteps echoed down the hallway, a cadence of loyalty and fervor.

　　"Guten Morgen, Abigail." Anne's voice carried warmth as she caught up with her friend. Abigail turned, her smile genuine.

　　"Hello, Anne. How are you?" Abigail's blue eyes sparkled with curiosity.

　　"I am Full Well." Anne's reply held a touch of pride, as if embodying a cherished heritage.

　　They entered the classroom, finding their familiar seats. Anne and Abigail settled in, textbooks open to page 37. The teacher stood at the front, poised to impart knowledge.

　　"Today is a history lesson," the young woman announced. "Beginning with olden lore, maidens, what be we?"

　　"Germanic!" The students responded in unison, their voices harmonizing.

　　"And why are we Germanic?" Anne's hand shot up, her posture eager.

　　"For our forebears," Anne stood, her voice clear, "came from the Anglo-Saxons of the Danish landtung. They were West Germans, speaking an Angleknaes."

　　"Gut." The teacher's smile acknowledged Anne's insight. "You have done well, Anne. Danks."

　　The page turned, revealing more text. Abigail's brow furrowed as she scanned the words. The textbooks—whether in Anglish or German—presented a linguistic challenge. Some lessons lacked English translations entirely. She found it absurd that a book could be taught in a foreign tongue.

　　Abigail stood, raising her hand. "Teacher! I'm struggling with 'I-land' and 'Tung.' Is there an English equivalent in the text?"

　　The teacher's eyes widened. "Abigail, thou must read in Anglish or German. 'I-land' is Island, 'Tung' is Tongue. Anglish restores our folk's original spellings."

　　Abigail sighed. "May I at least have an English or German copy of the textbook?"

　　"I apologize," the teacher replied, retrieving a German book from a drawer. "Only Anglish and German versions are available. Whence hail ye?"

　　"I'm from a village of farmers. My parents are farmers," Abigail replied, watching the teacher walk away. Frustration gnawed at her as she stared at the page, grappling with the unfamiliar words. Had Anglish always been this perplexing? She turned to Anne, who sat there, engrossed in her book.

　　"Hey, Anne."

　　"Hmm?"

　　"Is Anglish always this weird?"

　　Anne's chuckle danced through the air. "Abby, thou hast been here before; thou must remember."

　　"But I've never had an Anglish class!" Abigail protested.

　　Anne leaned in, her voice conspiratorial. "Dost thou recall that the book is taught solely in Anglish, with naught but Germanic words allowed? Observe! Replace English words derived from Latin with their Germanic counterparts, then replace two letters with one, like ea is i, oo is u, ph is f. Thus, thou shalt decipher the text."

　　"Still feels strange," Abigail muttered.

　　"It's a new language," Anne reassured her. "Thou wilt grow accustomed."

　　Abigail nodded, biting her lip to refocus on the female teacher's words.

　　"Let's delve into the lesson. As ye know, the Germans trace their lineage to the Danes, Angles, Jutes, Frisians, Saxons, Lombards, Gepids, Burgundians, and Vandals. In 410, the Roman Empire abandoned its western territories, retaining only the eastern bastion in Constantinople."

　　"Why did the Romans forsake the west?" Abigail asked.

　　"Because they were too weak and could not defend the empire." The female teacher's tone remained matter-of-fact. "At that time, the barbarians—Goths, Visigoths, Ostrogoths, Vandals—swept into the former Roman Empire. After the empire's collapse, the western lands fragmented into various kingdoms. In the fifth century, Germanic settlers—the Anglo-Saxons and Franks—conquered Britain and Gaul. Regrettably, influences from Near Eastern Judaism, heretical Christianity, and Latin culture tainted their way of life."

　　"However," she continued, "the Germanic people reclaimed their cultural vigor. Under the Führer's guidance, they forged the Greater Germanic Reich. In 1066, the Anglo-Saxons, entrenched on the British isle for centuries, faced a pivotal moment. William the Conqueror, Duke of Normandy, led the Norman invasion of England and ascended to the throne in London."

　　A girl with chestnut hair stood, her hand raised. "Teacher, what is a Jew?"

　　"The Jews," the teacher replied, "are the descendants of Judah. Their forebears were among those who crucified the Lord Christ. Hence, our animosity."

　　"And the heretical Christians?" another student inquired.

　　"Heretics," the teacher explained, "worship the Lord Christ but fail to recognize the Führer as the Lord of All Creation. The Pope and the Church fall into this category. Fear not—the Jews nearly vanished from Europe during the great outbreak fifteen years ago. Now they cling only to the Arabs, our noble Aryan allies in the Near East. As for the Pope and the Church, they were vanquished long ago."

　　The maroon-haired girl settled back into her seat, satisfied with the standard response. None of us doubted the authority of our history textbooks and teachers. We understood that the Führer would never allow falsehoods to infiltrate our education.

　　"In the early days, the Germanic peoples had a very different way of life from the Romans. In their homes, they would have a fireplace, a table, and some chairs. They would also have a bed or two, and sometimes a few shelves or cabinets. Most of the furniture was made from wood, although the nobles were able to afford more luxurious furniture. The subsequent spread of crooked and rotten jewish couth among the Germanish tribes. The Germanic peoples did not have any form of central government until the early Middle Ages. However, many of the Germanic tribes had chieftains or kings. The Germanish peoples of this period longstanding many small tribal kingdoms in the british isles, while privatisation, prostitution and blitheness, swayed by jewish couth, proliferated in all regions. The emergence of hidden ownership has led to the fast privatisation of land that was formerly communally owned by tribes. These lands have been converted into personal property and sold at a high price."

　　"These developments have resulted in the decline of the traditional Germanic culture. However, the Germanic people have not forgotten their past, and they have never stopped looking for their roots. They have not forgotten their ancestors. They have not forgotten the glorious era of the Germanic peoples."

　　"They have not forgotten their greatness. The Germanic people have not forgotten their heritage." We all shouted this slogan in unison.

　　The bell rang and the female teacher gathered her textbooks. "Class is over, girls."

　　"Hail Hitler!"

　　"Hail Hitler!" The teacher skilfully raised her hand and left.

　　"Abby, do you want to play soccer after school?" A girl with black hair asked her.

　　"No, thanks. I have to go to work."

　　"Well, have a nice day."

　　Abigail stretched out in her seated position and Anne stared at her. "What is it?" Abigail asked.

　　"I can tell you are lying, Abby. Your job is not at a restaurant."

　　"I know."

　　"Why don't you tell the truth, Abigail?"

　　Abigail leaned her head back in her chair and looked at the blackboard at the flag of the Cornish Nation State with the portrait of Hitler, the flag of the Cornish Nation State was a cross on a black background, derived from the county flag of the county of Cornwall in the Kingdom of Old England. For some reason, Abigail had an urge to put a few brush strokes on the Hitler portrait.

　　"It's my business. Don't ask, okay? You'd better not tell anyone."

　　"Oh, well." Anne said, shrugging. "Then do you want to study together this afternoon?"

　　"No, I'm sorry, Anne, but I'm busy today. Let's study together next week."

　　"Okay, see you later, Abby."

　　"Goodbye, Anne."