England was rather proud of himself. His two worst enemies were now his colonies.
He had thought that his house would be noisier, more chaotic now, but in reality, it was not. Spain took naps in the afternoon, and France was just waking up at eleven in the morning, due to his very active nightlife.
And they had given him tea. Lots of tea. Enough to last through till Doomsday.
He would not admit it (he had too much pride for that), but England missed his colonial empire.
Then again, he could build a new empire. He had resources and manpower from his new colonies.
Yes, he needed a new project; his cross-stitching was starting to bore him. He pulled out his map. Who would be weakest, while having something worth taking over?
His eye settled on Germany. Yes, that would work.
But first, he needed to take care of the threat to the north: his traitorous brother. The Scottish man would regret leaving the UK.