Report!

Ah, the fickle hand of Fate! For General Heironymous von Rumpfler, victor of the latest battle in the Wars of the Gelderland Succession, that hand carries with it the soft and sweet caress of triumph! He returns to the Nabstrian capital to be feted (or fetid: or possibly both). Alas, for his recent opponent the Zentan generalissimo, Captain-Pasha General Taras Bulbous, that hand carries with it the extended middle finger of failure. Abandoning his army, Bulbous hurries back to Hospodar Casimir's palace in Zenta, the better to 'shape the narrative' surrounding recent events.

'So', says Casimir wearily, 'we lost'.
Bulbous nods sadly, disconsolately slapping the nearly bald head of one of his palanquin slaves. 'That is so, my lord, that is so. Despite my best efforts, it proved impossible to reach a decision before dinner'.
Casimir frowns. 'And we lost without losing very many men; despite my very explicit instructions about the economic advantages of a little light slaughter'.
'That is also so, my lord' replies Bulbous. 'I threw them recklessly against the enemy, Dread Lord; but I just couldn't get my troops to die fast enough. But', he continues, 'I am willing to have another go if it would please your lordship'.

Casimir sighs. 'Now, you know that I am not a man to suffer fools gladly'.

There is much nodding around the chamber. Casimir is indeed, on past evidence, really not a man who suffers fools gladly. And it is also the case on past evidence that his definition of the word "fool" is really quite flexible. It can cover anyone from a genuine fool, which, in general, would be anyone stupid enough to disagree with him, through to folk that he thinks are slightly shorter than he wants them to be.

'Now, you also know', continues the hospodar, 'that I am not, by nature, a vindictive man'.
There is more nodding around the chamber, but this time just for the sake of self-preservation; because, actually, 'vindictive' would be exactly the sort of man that Casimir is.

'So, whilst it gives me no pleasure, I am afraid that I will have to apply the full force of the law against you'. In Zenta, no one is above the law. Except Casimir, of course, who is quite literally above it, since he routinely sat on his judges until they rendered the judgements that he thought suitable. 

'And when I've decided what that law says', continues Casimir, 'I shall then decide when, and with which of my pair of pliers I shall apply it. In the mean time, return to your army! Prepare for more battles! And do not return without victories or some quite specific life insurance'.

Bulbous gulps. 'My lord is too merciful. But ... perhaps if I might ask for some reinforcements ...'

'No, no, no, no, no, no, never!' says the hospodar, waggling his finger firmly.
'I sense some uncertainty in your disposition', says Bulbous hopefully. 'So shall I give you some further time to consider, my lord?'
Casimir waves to Radu Pasha. The Grand Vizier, recognising the signal, leaps into action.
'By no means, ambassador! His Dreadfulness has spoken! Listen! Tremble! Piddle yourself and such! This audience is, quite definitively, over! Get thee hence! Withdraw yourself!'
'But ...' says Bulbous.
'No!' says Radu Pasha, gesturing to the harem eunuchs. 'Remove him!'
'But ...'

At this very moment, other activities are underway in the Palatinate of Saukopf-Bachscuttel that signal the beginnings of another clash of arms ...