Iceland stayed up late on the first of September in 1958, eager to take advantage of the new expansion of his fishery zones.

As midnight arrived, he got all his equipment ready and went out in his boat until he could no longer see the coast behind him, before beginning his fishing.

All went well for a few hours until he noticed strange ripples in the water, followed by the sound of a foghorn in the distance.

England approached in his war ship and demanded Iceland's presence, to which the latter complied with some hesitation.

As Iceland headed to the starboard and leaned slightly against the rails, he knew that he must have done something wrong, though he couldn't figure out what.

He saw England staring sternly at him just metres away, arms crossed and eyebrows still clearly visible despite the surrounding darkness.

"Do you know why I'm here?"

"No..." Iceland replied honestly.

"Well, I'm afraid you're fishing in the wrong waters. You see, this is my territory and I would gladly lose a night's sleep to prevent it from breached!"

"We're both tired..." Iceland moaned, stifling a yawn. "...But I'm not staying up so late for nothing. Besides, my fishing zone's just been expanded. I can come here whenever I want."

"Your fishing zone expanded? By whom?"

"My government."

"Your government? Why couldn't they consult with me first before making a decision? I'm the main authority in this region, after all."

Iceland's eyes widened at the statement. While it was true that England had once had a quarter of the world under his command and seemingly unlimited resources at his fingertips, Iceland had never imagined that the former British Empire would try to exercise power in Europe itself of all places.

"Main authority? Who appointed you?" He said boldly, somewhat doubting that England would actually dare to harm him.

"Who appointed me? Well, that's a good question...uh...fate, that's who!"

"Just as I thought. You've never had any basis for your power, so you may as well as leave me alone."

"Don't be such an impudent upstart!" England flared up, raising his voice. "While you were still navigating your ineptly named island of stinking hot air, I was busy sailing and conquering the world, yet you have the gall to tell me that my power was unfounded?!"

"I...I'm not just an island of stinking hot air! I have amazing scenery and culture, which...which is more than I can say for you!"

"What?! You will pay for that insult, for I am more than ready to use these guns to blast your puny boat all the way to Spain!"

"It's on, then!" Iceland yelled, caught in the heat of moment and soon to regret his behaviour.

"Didn't think you two could get into a fishing war with each other." Netherlands mumbled as he took a drag from his cigarette.

"He started it." Iceland pointed innocently at England.

Netherlands raised his eyebrows and pressed his blackened cigarette against his ashtray.

"From now on, you bring all fishing issues to us. Understand?"

"Understood. I promise this won't happen again..."