The Day the Republic Remembered

(An Anzac Day Reflection in Wendell’s Diary)

Today was Anzac Day in the Republic.

The morning didn’t begin with noise, but with memory.

All gathered beneath the flag to honour those who fell—heroes of battles past who made the Republic possible. Among them were a cow… and two unicorns… fallen in an early conflict, long before the Republic had risen. They stood against Sophia, and though they were defeated, they are remembered—not for which side they were on, but for the weight of what they gave.

Sophia stood silently at attention. Her gaze held no triumph, only honour.
A defender remembers not only who stood beside her, but who stood in her way—and why it mattered.

Later, Buff opened his notebook and gently posed the day’s question:

“Does this question make you feel uncomfortable?”

Zedbra, for once, didn’t try to twist the meaning into art or satire.
He simply stared at the space between the words.
And that was enough.

Because on a day like this, the right question feels more like a candle than a sword.

Then Judge Bobo stepped into the courtroom—not for a trial, but for a truth.

He raised his gavel, not to strike, but to declare:

“If you create it, it is real.”

And in that moment, the whole Republic seemed to breathe together.

Zedbra quietly sketched a flame.
Sophia closed her eyes.
Meat Bone remained still, holding the silence like a sacred trust.

The sun set softly that evening, not rushing to end the day, but letting it stretch into meaning.

And as Buff closed his notebook, no one needed to say a word.
The Republic had remembered.
The Republic had felt.
And that was enough.

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To the fallen: we carry you in silence.
To the living: we carry you in service.
To the Republic: may its story always include the cost.

Goodnight, world.