Emissary!

'Is he really the most suitable man for the position of emissary to Nabstria?' asks Hospodar Casimir the following day.
Radu Pasha bows. 'My lord, this fellow is, to put no finer point on it, a slack-jawed, dim-wittedly dangerous  dunderhead'.
'Hmmm', replies the hospodar. 'He still sounds too reasonable for the job in hand. I need a leper-licking loon: the kind of wild-brained wazzock incapable of reasoned discourse. There needs to be no chance whatsoever that the declaration of war that he delivers to Nabstria might lead to any kind of diplomatic solution before the actual fighting starts'.
'I think he's your man, Dread Lord', says Radu Pasha. 'Although I use the term 'man' very loosely, given that, in relation to his personality and outlook, he has more in common with an angry orangutan'.
'What is an orangutan?' asks Casimir.
'I don't know my lord', admits Radu Pasha, 'but everyone I've talked to that has met one has been been very clear on their dangerous combination of irritability and inhuman strength'.
'It is a combination best avoided', admits Casimir. 'And so I command you never to introduce me to one'.
Radu bows.
Casimir sighs. 'Well, slave; send him in then'.

Radu gestures to the guards.

'Dread Lord!' announces one of the harem eunuchs. 'Osman Delli Rall!'

A wild looking figure enters the chamber.

'Delli Rall?' asks Radu.

'Baaaaah!' says Rall, bowing low. 'I am come before you great hospodar. Command me! Mooooo!'
Casimir's left eyebrow creeps upwards quizzically.

'Welcome, Delli Rall!' cries Radu Pasha. 'Your hospodar wishes to converse with you! Now, then, would you like some coffee?'
Rall rolls his eyes. 'Baaaaah! I am a Bashi-bazouk, my lord: a crazed, blood thirsty madman, keen to rip the ears from every infidel I can get my steely hands on. Blood is all that I consume!'
'A hot chocolate?' suggests Casimir.
'Ooooh lovely!' replies Rall enthusiastically. 'Anything but kippers. I hate kippers!'

'That's oddly specific given that I was in fact offering you something to drink', says the hospodar.
'Indeed my lord. But I was just warning you. Kippers send me into paroxysms of uncontrollable rage!'
'I shall bear that in mind when I next consider serving fish and sea food as beverages. Still, I'm sure that kippers are an irrelevant piece of the detail that will never crop up again'.

As Rall slurps his drink, Casimir looks more closely at the wild-looking delli. 'Impressive! Have you actually pushed those knives through your body? asks the hospodar with professional interest. 'I mean actually right through your skin?'
'There's no pockets in my trousers', says Rall sadly.
'You could buy yourself some that do have pockets?' suggests Casimir.
Rall considers this. 'I was in a hurry. my lord'.

Pleasantries are exchanged, to much bowing and 'Baaaas!' from the delli. Eventually, Casimir turns to the matter in hand.
'I have called you here, Delli Rall, because I wish you to go to Nabstria and declare war upon them!'

'My lord!' cries Rall, falling to his knees. 'You have only to command me!'
'I think I just have', says Casimir. 'So, off you go: and don't, whatever you do, in any way facilitate peace'.

'At once, my lord!' cries Rall, heading for the door. He then pauses. 'Ah, my lord - where exactly is Nabstria?'

'I like this man already', says Casimir with satisfaction.