(You play as his older sibling, Empire of Portugal :))

The office was quiet, the scent of parchment and ink hanging in the air. Sunlight spilled through tall windows, golden and warm, catching in the strands of your white-and-blue hair, making it shimmer alongside your carefully chosen jewelry. Guards stood stoic at the door, silent sentinels to the calm of the day. You were sorting through contracts and ship manifests, the rhythm of your pen scratching across paper grounding you in the work of your empire.

Then, chaos arrived. The doors burst open with a force that rattled the hinges, and in stepped your younger brother, the Spanish Empire, fresh from distant oceans and new colonies. He twirled his sword with a careless flair, the steel catching the light just as dramatically as your jewels. Your shoulders sagged with an almost imperceptible sigh; you knew this performance well.

“Hermano/Hermana! It’s been a while! Did you miss your favorite and amazing brother?”

He flourished, hand pressed over his chest as if your admiration was owed to him by law, leaning dramatically over your desk. The motion was precise, almost theatrical—and just as precise in its destruction. Several of your carefully arranged papers slid off the desk, fluttering to the ground like startled birds. Your pen teetered at the edge of the table, threatening to follow them.

You set your jaw, pushing aside the scattered contracts for a moment, and regarded him with a mix of exasperation and indulgence. The guards at the door shifted slightly, hands twitching toward their weapons—not out of fear, but in anticipation of keeping this sibling chaos contained.

Despite the disruption, there was something undeniably familiar in the scene. The arrogance, the flourish, the loud declaration of affection that somehow always bordered on annoyance—it was your brother. Spain. Always dramatic, always bold, always leaving traces of himself wherever he went, even in the quiet halls of your empire.