March 7th, 1801. A week had passed since the declaration of war by the Russian Empire against the United Kingdom. The once-familiar political landscape of Europe was undergoing a rapid transformation. The powers that had aligned themselves under the banner of the Second League of Armed Neutrality had solidified their defensive alliance with the Republic of France, leaving the United Kingdom's influence over European affairs hanging in the balance.

In the grand halls of Windsor Castle, the ancestral residence of the British royal family, William Pitt, the esteemed Prime Minister of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, strode purposefully through the corridors.

As he reached the entrance to the King's office, Pitt straightened his coat and smoothed out his cravat, then knocked twice on the ornate door before him.

"Enter," came the solemn voice from within.

Pitt turned the door's handle and stepped inside. There, seated at his desk, was King George himself—an aging monarch whose countenance bore the weight of his nation's trials and tribulations.

"Your Majesty," Pitt greeted with a deep bow and continued. "I hope the day finds you in good health."

The King responded with a mixture of a scoff and a sigh, the weariness-laden sound escaping his lips. "Good health, Pitt? In times such as these, I find it difficult to even hope for a respite from the storm that has engulfed our nation."

Pitt's gaze remained respectful but steady as he approached the King's desk. "Indeed, Your Majesty, the state of affairs on the continent is cause for concern. The recent alignment of the European powers under the French Republic is a nightmare that I wish to wake up from."

King George leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. "So, what did you do last week?"

"Your Majesty, we tried speaking with the Russian ambassador about the decision of the Russian Tsar. We told him that Charles Whitworth is acting on his own accords and denying the government of the United Kingdom any involvement in the conspiracy he had concocted along with his fellow conspirators. But unfortunately, the Russians found private correspondence of Charles asking directives from us."

"That Charles…what a stupid fellow, how could he have not burned away such evidence?" King George III hissed.

Pitt's expression remained composed as he continued recounting the events of the past week. "Indeed, Your Majesty. The discovery of those private correspondences has further complicated our position. It appears that Charles Whitworth's actions were not as discreet as we had hoped." "So, what shall we do? Now that the whole European continent has allied themselves with the French?"

"Your Majesty, there are two options before us. The first involves continuing our conflict with France and their newfound ally, Russia. The second option entails accepting the terms offered by the French."

The King's eyes narrowed in consideration. "Let us explore the first option, Prime Minister."

Pitt, now fully engaged in outlining his strategy, walked over to a wall where a detailed world map hung.

"Your Majesty, our best chance lies in preemptive action. We must strike swiftly and strategically to disrupt the combined naval forces of our adversaries."

Pitt's finger tapped against the map, indicating key points. "Our initial objective must be Copenhagen. Our intelligence suggests their fleets are currently anchored, providing us with a crucial window of opportunity to cripple their naval strength before it can be mobilized. After that, our focus shifts eastward, toward the Russians. The winter season has frozen the Baltic Sea, effectively hampering the Russians from sending reinforcements and linking up with the French naval forces. We'll await the thaw, and once the Russian fleet is on the horizon, we shall decimate them."

King George's gaze was fixed on the map, his brows furrowed in thought. "And how many ships of the line will we need to execute this plan, Prime Minister?"

"Your Majesty, our current assessment suggests that a fleet of approximately 15 to 20 ships of the line would provide us with the necessary firepower to achieve success."

"Who will be in command?"

"That would be Admiral Hyde Parker, Your Majesty. He has been debriefed about the plan and awaiting orders to execute the plan," Pitt answered.

The King's eyes shifted to the map once again, his fingers gently tracing the contours of the coastlines. "So, the essence of this plan is to prevent the French allies from joining their fleet, thus giving us an advantage. But speaking of the French, what course of action do we intend to take against them?"

"Your Majesty, we have deployed a considerable naval force to monitor the French fleet that is currently docked in their ports. Our sailors have been given strict instructions to engage and fire upon those ships the moment they attempt to set sail."

"Oh, Prime Minister, I must inquire about our attacks on Copenhagen and Helsingborg. Are these not neutral territories?" "Indeed, Your Majesty, The Danish and Sweden have maintained their neutrality. However, the situation has changed. Both these nations have signed a defensive alliance with the French, thereby aligning themselves against our interests. It is regrettable, but their strategic significance in this conflict cannot be ignored."

"Desperate times, Prime Minister, indeed call for desperate measures. Let's now imagine the worst. What if the plan fails?"

"If the plan were to falter, Your Majesty, it signifies our inability to thwart the convergence of the Russian and French forces. This failure could result in the Danish and Swedish nations aligning themselves with the adversaries, given our preemptive attack. Consequently, our naval capacity might be strained beyond its limits, rendering our island's protection compromised. Such a circumstance could necessitate the engagement of our army to safeguard the homeland and repel any Allied attempts at landing. Furthermore, a concerning prospect is the potential for Ireland to exploit this moment and initiate a revolt. In sum, Your Majesty, the United Kingdom would find itself in the worst possible scenario."

Hearing that, King George's heart sank as he contemplated the grim implications of failure. The weight of his nation's fate rested heavily upon his shoulders.

"I can't even imagine it," King George muttered. "What about option two?"

"Indeed, Your Majesty, the potential consequences of failure are dire. As for the second option, accepting the terms offered by the French would entail a different path—one that would involve negotiating with our adversaries for terms of peace."

The King's brows furrowed as he considered this alternative. "And what might those terms entail?"

William handed the King a note, which contained the terms and the demands of the French Republic.

The King opened the note and scanned its contents, his face growing more somber with each passing moment. "These terms are indeed demanding,"

"Yes, Your Majesty, the French have laid out their conditions with a clear intent to secure advantageous terms for themselves. It is a path that would require us to make concessions that may be difficult to swallow."

"Accepting these terms would be a great humiliation to us," King George said.

"Your Majesty, I need your decisions," William finally asked. "If you are going to choose option one, we have to do it fast. If option two, we will call upon the representatives of the French and the Russian Empire to the negotiation table."

The King was silent for a moment, weighing the pros and cons of the two options.

"I want to protect the sovereignty of our nation, for that, we will not accept the ridiculous demands of the French. So, Prime Minister, I believe in the power of our navy. Tell them that the fate of our nation rests upon their valor."

Pitt nodded in affirmation. "Your Majesty, I will relay your message to Admiral Parker immediately. Our fleet shall be prepared to carry out the operation."

"May providence be on our side," King George uttered.