I already had half of this written but I accidentally clicked out of the window then came back and pressed backspace which took me to the page before, so all of what I was gonna say was wiped out. I tried to re-write as best as I could.

So I was running through Fort Elena again because it's so darn fun, and I came to a realization:
Sweet Dreams by the Eurymithics is an amazing theme song during combat.
Well, that and Valencia [specifically the Armada] completely took down Polaris almost all on their own, right? So how would Napoleguin have reacted when Phule was carted in to the cell next to him? So, I came up with a short little snippet that I hope you enjoy :)

Napoleguin couldn't believe his eyes when he saw those bone-headed Redcoats wheeling in one of his oldest enemies. His eyes glazed over and a spasm ran through his body as he quickly remembered the day his glorious conquest ended and the day his mind (and trust) shattered.

After years of pointless battles against the icy realm of Polaris, Napoleguin was cornered. It was in Sivella, the academy of the arts where the final battle took place. Invading Valencia and underestimating this new Armada had proved to be Napoleon's greatest mistake. Standing in the wrecked library with his Honor Guard, Napoleguin faced dog after dog. He had already reduced Her Majesty's forces to next to nothing. This battle only seemed to be contributing to lessening those numbers. They had followed him into Aragon and into the sacred library just as the mastermind had accounted for. He grinned maliciously and ordered his polar bears to attack the final squad of redcoats. But his white-furred warriors stood rigid, their rifles at their sides.
"What are you doing? I said attack! Pierre? Dimitri?"
A blue-coated Springer Spaniel smirked as he calmly walked towards the short flightless bird. The honor guard surrounded Napoleguin but without the Polar bears, they were quickly disarmed. The blue-coated Spaniel, Lieutenant Nelson grabbed Napoleguin and raised him by his decorated coat.
"I've finally got you, you flightless fiend. You're coming with me to-" A loud mechanical roar was heard and a huge dragoon slammed into Nelson, knocking him down.
"STAND DOWN, MUTT! THIS WHELP IS MINE!" Rooke, general of the Armada, raised Napoleguin even higher into the air. Napoleguin's most trusted and beloved soldiers, Pierre and Dimitri, had betrayed him. They cackled, and his heart shattered. The loudest laugh in the room, however, came from the mad jester clockwork known only as Phule. At the moment the title seemed to fit Napoleguin better, for he was a Phule to ever grow close to anyone in this war.

Now, as he stared down the mad jester, Napoleguin felt like slapping that dumb smirk off the left face.
"Oh my, we're going to have so much fun together, emperor.."

Cpt. Cruel Owen Quarrel, Level 65 Fort Crasher