Attack!

In Falkensteinburg, Burgrave Falco is engaged in one of his favourite activities - not being in the company of his councillors. As he gazes out of the window of his private apartments, he considers how it is that he could spend this valuable time: reading a book, perhaps; playing the violin; or chasing one of his maid-servants. He has only just decided that it might be entertaining to combine the last two of these, when there is a sudden and unwelcome commotion at the door.

'My lord Burgrave!' cries a voice. It is His Excellency Reinhardt, the Bishop of Munschrugge: diplomat and advisor.

Wearily, Falco orders the doors opened, and the Bishop enters, accompanied by the rest of the Nabstrian council - Heinrich, Graf Deckscluder, Second Chancellor; Hubert von Wornitzdaun, Second Councillor; Werner von Frerkingheil, Burgravial Treasurer; Count Leopold von Beckwurz, aged Minister for Treacle and Public Education; and Baron Friedrich, Minister for Corsets and Public Transport.

'Ah', cries Falco with false enthusiasm, 'Your presence, good gentlemen, tells of the imminent arrival of another guided open-top carriage tour around all seven circles of Hell, tips not included!'

'My lord! Grave news!' says Munschrugge, feigning not to notice the Burgrave's comments. At a gesture from Falco, the assembled gentlemen sit. 'Intelligence from Zenta, sire!' continues the bishop. 'The Sanjak's forces are assembling for war! Rumour has it that they intend to march north!'
'Well, that sounds fine', says Wornitzdaun. 'North would put them in Gelderland. Let them fight Gelderland!'
Munschrugge sighs. 'They are now allied to Fenwick-Gelderland, bad news that would also merit a council; but I thought I'd just have one gathering and get all of the unfortunate updates out of the way in one big melancholic meeting. If one wishes to be accurate', continues the bishop, 'I understand that they are probably heading northwest, and by river'.
'Oooh', says Graf Decksluder, a tedious enthusiast for the flubbering lie that is maritime power. 'We must gather boats and destroy them afloat!'
'No!' says Munschrugge.
'Let's destroy them afloat!' repeats the Graf.
'No! No!' says Munschrugge.
'Let's destroy them afloat!' repeats the Graf.
'I keep saying "no" - what do you think I'm saying - "wobbly jelly"? We have no ships!'

'Oh, get up and don't be such babies - Nabstria
is just over there!'

'Wornitzdaun - what's your view? You seem unusually quiet'.

'Apologies, sir: but my mind is elsewhere. There was a terrible incident at my son's birthday party'.

'How so?'

'The entertainer: he ... wasn't as advertised'.

'Didn't you hire a magician?'

'I thought so - but as it turned out he was a mortician: it wasn’t quite the show my children were expecting'. The Second Councillor collects his thoughts for a minute. 'The Graf's plan may not be so ludicrous, bishop'.

Munschrugge frowns. 'I think it highly likely that it is', he replies.

'But we have time, sir, before the Zentans reach us, says Worntizdaun. 'Time to mobilise our maritime capabilities ...'

At that very moment, a servant bursts through the door, carrying a bird.

'Sire! Lords! A message from our river outposts!'

'Is it a carrier pigeon?' asks Count Beckwurz.

'It doesn't look like a carrier pigeon', replies Baron Friedrich. 'It looks more like a crow!'

'Or a swallow', says the count.

'African or European, because there's some debate amongst experts'.

'I suppose that would depend upon whether it was carrying half a coconut'.

Munschrugge lifts a tiny piece of paper wrapped around the bird's leg and swiftly reads it. 'Zentans, sir - thousands of them! They have already landed upon our soil!'

'Mobilise our forces!' cries the Burgrave. 'Let us meet them swiftly in battle!'