Bob-Bob
28-11-2004, 02:15
King George sat in Buckingham Palace surrounded by enemies. “We must act now your majesty” came form all of his advisors. “The French are mobilizing, they are trying to push us out of Europe” came from all directions.
“I don’t know? Should we invade? I mean Hamptonshire has never been much of a problem before, what are we to do?” The King said nervously.
A tall thin man came up to him, it was his long friend the Prime minister, “Your Majesty surely you can trust me? We need to act or all will be lost, they are even as we speak preparing to invade, we have no choice.”
The room seemed to spin in a daze of confusion, his brain thudding against the inside of his skull, a cold sweat erupting from all over his body. The illness was back. “Mr Prime Minister I authorize the mobilization, you may begin at once. Good day gentleman.” The King walked precariously out of the room holding onto the walls for support until he collapsed in the hall way and slumped into a dark recess of unconsciousness. His last seconds of vision was a stream of aides and servants rushing to help him.
As the King was now lying in hospital the armies in Coldstream and Gratna Green were already mobilizing, the orders had been issued before the King authorized it.
Deep in the lowland valleys of Northern England the massive swarms of troops and tanks were making their way north. Hadrian’s wall long repaired was a stark reminder of the division of the Island fortress, it was about time that Scotland and England became whole again. It was about time that the British Empire returned. The five million strong army would reach the border in a few hours.
“I don’t know? Should we invade? I mean Hamptonshire has never been much of a problem before, what are we to do?” The King said nervously.
A tall thin man came up to him, it was his long friend the Prime minister, “Your Majesty surely you can trust me? We need to act or all will be lost, they are even as we speak preparing to invade, we have no choice.”
The room seemed to spin in a daze of confusion, his brain thudding against the inside of his skull, a cold sweat erupting from all over his body. The illness was back. “Mr Prime Minister I authorize the mobilization, you may begin at once. Good day gentleman.” The King walked precariously out of the room holding onto the walls for support until he collapsed in the hall way and slumped into a dark recess of unconsciousness. His last seconds of vision was a stream of aides and servants rushing to help him.
As the King was now lying in hospital the armies in Coldstream and Gratna Green were already mobilizing, the orders had been issued before the King authorized it.
Deep in the lowland valleys of Northern England the massive swarms of troops and tanks were making their way north. Hadrian’s wall long repaired was a stark reminder of the division of the Island fortress, it was about time that Scotland and England became whole again. It was about time that the British Empire returned. The five million strong army would reach the border in a few hours.