War?

Prince Rupprecht's meeting with the Zentan envoy is proceeding in a manner that more diplomatic observers might label as 'sub-optimal'.

'No! No! No! No! No!' cries the prince. 'You call this a present! These animals are completely flat!'
'They are animal skins my lord', says Chamberlain Fecklenburg. 'His Excellency Delli Rall has brought you a rare selection of skins'.

'Bah!' says Rupprecht, refusing to be mollified. 'I prefer my animal friends to be plumper than this. Much plumper! Take them away and feed them'.

'My lord', says the chamberlain. 'These animals are not alive ...'

'Well of course they aren't', retorts the prince. 'See how little he's feeding them!'

Fecklenburg orders the skins to be removed. His life is too short for this sort of nonsense. Far, far too short.

Rupprecht looks at the Zentan and pouts. 'Quickly then, my man - why are you here, tasking me with your animal cruelty?'

'Baaaah!' declares the Zentan. 'I am here to declare war on you, my lord, on behalf of my liege, Hospodar Casimir, the Shadow of God; God's Umbrella; and Also Possibly His Hat'.
Rupprecht frowns. 'Is it urgent?'
Rall considers this. 'It's a declaration of war'.
'I'm in a bad mood - come back when I've recovered'.
'When, my lord - this afternoon?'
'Next June.'
'My lord Rupprecht - it's a declaration of war. I think I probably have to deliver it today. I could, perhaps, stretch to tomorrow morning?'
'Deliver it now, and you will indeed be stretched until tomorrow morning', says the prince angrily.
'Mooooo!' declares the Zentan. 'Honour demands that I deliver my message! I declare war on you, lord of Nabstria!'
There is a moment of puzzled silence.
'But this is Bachscuttel', says Fecklenburg. 'The Palatinate of Saukopf-Bachscuttel!'
'Is it?' says Rall, amazed. 'Is it? Ah well. Hmmm. Well, then. Well, then I have come here to not declare war on you, and also to get some better directions to Nabstria!'

'Well, splendid!' says Rupprecht. 'Hurrah! It would seem that we have avoided war. Excellent! Because at the moment, I have much too much else to do than to, you know, command, and strategise, and inspire, and, and ... what is it that I habitually do in wartime to lead my country Fecklenburg?'
'As I recall, sir, you sit on your commode'.
Rupprecht beams. 'So, all's well that ends well, then! And in a spirit of fraternity and peace, why don't you sit with me and have breakfast!'