The Minister of Police, Fouche, entered Napoleon's office.

"Oh, Fouche, it's been a while since I last saw you," Napoleon greeted warmly. He gestured for the minister to take a seat next to Berthier.

"Well, that is because I was busy fulfilling the task that you appointed me, Your Excellency," Fouche replied. His gaze shifted between Napoleon and Berthier.

"I see that you are discussing something of great import with your Minister of War. I hope I am not interfering."

Napoleon's lips curved into a reassuring smile. "Oh no no," he said, his dismissal accompanied by a casual wave of his hand. "So, I believe that your arrival is something of great importance? Even though you are already late, a week ago?"

"Yes, Your Excellency," Fouche confirmed and took a glance at Berthier. "But is it okay for me to discuss it with you while Berthier is here?"

"For god's sake Fouche, I'm the Minister of War," Berthier interjected, feeling a bit offended.

"Berthier is already privy to many of our strategic discussions," Napoleon finished and chimed with a chuckle. "Whatever you have to share, you can say it in front of him."

Fouche's posture relaxed slightly, his gaze shifting back to Napoleon. "Very well then. Your Excellency. First, I want to apologize that we failed to deliver to intel by the deadline you set up. The British, according to my spies, were wary as always. It took them time to infiltrate their states and retrieve private correspondences and documents."

"Apology accepted, can you now proceed to the point?" Napoleon said.

"Of course Your Excellency. The British are planning on launching a preemptive strike against the alliance. The main target is the port of Copenhagen of the Kingdom of Denmark-Norway, and the Helsingborg of the Kingdom of Sweden."

"And you have confirmed this?" Napoleon asked.

"My agents went to the ports to confirm the information, and they were right. Ships of the lines are being prepared and outfitted with supplies. Troop movements have been observed, indicating a coordinated effort. It's clear that the British are aiming to cripple the Baltic Sea access of our allies and disrupt their contributions to our cause."

Berthier leaned forward, his brows furrowed in concern. "Why Copenhagen?"

"Because they are threatened that the Danish's ships will fall on our hands," Fouche explained simply. "Should we inform our allies then?" Berthier flickered his gaze back to Napoleon, who was rubbing his chin.

"We already informed them that the British might attack their ports at any moment, let's just hope that they listened to our warning and are taking appropriate measures," Napoleon replied and looked at Fouche. "Do you know who is in command of the Fleet?"

"That would be Admiral Hyde Parker, Your Excellency," Fouche promptly replied. "Reports suggest that Admiral Hyde Parker has been given the command."

Napoleon nodded thoughtfully. Parker knew that man, he was the admiral that worked alongside Horatio Nelson at the Battle of Copenhagen. But since Nelson is already long gone, he wondered how his absence was going to affect the flow of the battle.

But never mind that, Napoleon the British launching a preemptive strike is working in the French favor, decreasing the naval forces of the English along the English Channel.

"Let's hope that the Danish and Swedes could protect their ports, and better if they could sink the British fleet in their waters," Napoleon mused aloud. "For better measure, send a telegraph to those two nations. Tell them that we have confirmed that the British are going to launch an attack on their territories."

April 16th, 1801.

The British ships of the line flotilla glided through the ?resund Strait. The clock had struck eight in the evening, shrouding everything in profound darkness. Two distinct squadrons cut through the obsidian waters—one commanded by John Lawford on board the HMS Elephant, and the other under the leadership of Admiral Hyde Parker, who stood at the helm of the HMS London.

Within the Admiral's Quarters of the HMS London, Admiral Hyde Parker pored over the dispatches from his government. The orders were explicit: execute a clandestine night assault on Copenhagen. No warnings were to be issued, for the city had already cast its lot with the French Republic.

Contained in the missive was a resolute directive: the Danish fleet must be obliterated. And not only the Danish fleet but also the ports of the Kingdom of Sweden, which had similarly aligned itself with the French Republic.

"We find ourselves making adversaries of all."

From his years of service, Admiral Parker had never seen his country being forced to make drastic choices as it was now. The darkness outside mirrored the uncertainty that shrouded his thoughts.

Moments later, there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," Parker said, and the person who knocked entered his quarters.

Parker looked up and saw that it was his 1st Captain, William Domett. "What's the situation outside, Domett?" Parker asked.

"Nothing out of place, Admiral. I just came here to inform you that we are approaching Helsingborg, and ask you a question."

"What is it?" Parker prompted him to continue.

"Admiral, why don't we attack what's nearest to us? Helsingborg is just in the corner while Copenhagen is still hours away?"

"Demott," Parker began. "The Danish had more ships in the region than the Swedes. If we were to attack the Swedes first, that would alert the Danish officials, which would prompt them to mobilize their fleets. We don't want that to happen. The Danish are more of a threat than the Swedes."

Upon saying that, there was a bright light streaming through the windows. Admiral Parker and Captain Demott's eyes squinted and raised their arms to block the assaulting light.

"What the?! Where is it coming from? Close the window!"

Demott immediately rushed to the window and hastily pulled the heavy drapes shut, shutting out the blinding light. Admiral Parker's eyes adjusted as the room dimmed once more.

"What in the devil's name was that?" Admiral Parker exclaimed.

There was a flurry of running footsteps echoing down the corridor outside. The urgency in the sound made Admiral Parker's instincts kick in. He turned toward the door.

In an instant, the door swung open, revealing another figure, breathless and wide-eyed. It was his second captain, Robert Walker Otway.

"Admiral Parker!" Otway gasped, his words rushed. "We've received a message from the lookout post atop the mast. The Swedes, they have found us using their lighthouse."

Parker rose to his feet and went above deck.

Outside, the darkness was now punctuated by the distant flicker of the Swedes' lighthouse, aiming at their lights at the fleet. It was a new technology developed in France after they invented the light bulb. This was his first time seeing it in action.

"They must be wondering why there is a British Fleet sailing near their waters," Demott said.

"Don't worry, they can only point their lights at us, but their shore batteries are out of range."

"Should we continue to Copenhagen?" Otway asked.

"The mission would remain the same."