England had made his plans. He had made alliances. He was always very good at planning.
And now, he surveyed the Ruhr valley. The march from the French border had not been met with problems. The country side was quiet.
Of course, the Ruhr valley was not the goal. The goal was Berlin. Control Berlin, control Germany -and Prussia, of course.
"We march on!" he shouted -and his army, his new colonial army- marched to Berlin.
Ten miles away from Berlin he was forced to call a halt. Something blocked the roadway ahead. He pulled his spyglass out (it was old, but it still worked) and looked ahead.
Two people guarded to roadway. One was ta, wore a hat that resembled a top hat in a military uniform, and carried a spear. The other was shorter, wore a white beret, and was almost gleefully cleaning a rifle.
Sweden and Finland? What on Earth were they doing guarding the roadway tem miles from Berlin? This was not Norway's war.
He, along with France and Spain, walked up to the two-person barricade.
"W' c'nn't l't ya p'ss," Sweden began with no preamble. ("We cannot let you pass.")
"I have an army."
"F'ne. B't th's w'r w'll n't b' th' 'sy v'ct'ry ya th'nk." ("Fine, but this war will not be the easy victory you think.")
"And it's getting late," Finland interjected. "Surely your troops are needing to rest."
"We will move back 500 yards and camp for the evening then."
"Good night!"
The next morning, the two Nordics were gone.
However, when England crested the hill that was a mile down the road from the blockade, he began cursing.
An enormous army -larger than his, at any rate- was camped there. He saw Norway's flag -it was the most prominent- in the middle of the camp.
This was Norway's army. How had it gotten so vast? Norway had no friends.
"Sacred bleu," France muttered.
England had been studying the flags: Norway's, of course; the rest of the Nordics', plus Greenland's; Austria's -not a big problem there; Hungary's-now that was a problem; Italy's, who would probably surrender or run away as soon as the fighting began; Scotland's -Hell!; and, finally, the old Prussian flag -Bloody hell!
Norway had no friends!
"Bloody hell!" He would have to call Russia up. After all, if one needed a demon to bother Germany, Russia was the way to go.
He scanned the land at the bottom of the hill. There was a large open area about 300 yards to the south. That would be his camp.
Tonight, he would reevaluate his plans, make some new ones, and, come morning, he would attack.
Norway watched as England's army crested the hill and marched to the south. He could have ordered an attack. He could have, and he would have crushed England's army.
Yet he sent no orders. He did not want to crush England's army. He wanted no war. He had seen too much war during his long life.
Hopefully, come morning, they could begin the peace negotiations.