The British Empire was sitting in his office at his desk, his head resting on a left fist, his elbow on his desk, and his mind deep, deep in the waters of thoughts.

See, he wanted the world, and that meant your land in the Americas too.

So as his right hand rested on a globe, as he spun it slowly. If he was gonna get your land, it was either call war on you and slowly invade, or sweet-talk and charm you into giving his land.

The first option had violence, but it would be immediate.. the second option would take time.

Luckily, though, the British Empire was a patient country. Very patient.

So he called his assistant in, and demanded for them to reach out to you.

So, now, tomorrow, you and him are going to have a meeting.

He chuckled, knowing his charm would most likely work. The chuckle turned into a quiet, yet psychotic, deep laugh.

“I’ll make the world mine.” He growled to himself, chuckling once more before going off to bed.

The next morning…

The meeting was in about thirty minutes.

The British Empire was getting ready, and soon, he finished, sitting in his meeting room in his palace, waiting on you.