Foursome!

'What are you doing here?' demands Prince Rupprecht of Saukopf-Bachscuttel, hastily adjusting his clothes. 'I want to be alone so that I can reverberate'.
'Urgent news, my lord', says his chamberlain, Count Leopold von Fecklenburg.

Rupprecht's sojourn at Schloss Tanvaund has now ended, and he is back in his palace in Pfeildorf. In the light of the terrible fire that required the prince to change abodes in the first place, many alterations have been made to his palace: not least, the use of more brick and stone in its construction, in case Rupprecht again decides to try and smoke some mangos. Alas, this is not a euphemism.

'What news could possibly be so urgent as to interrupt my executive alone time, chamberlain? I've had my lunch', so you can't be announcing that'. He pulls a face. 'It's not something linked to ruling is it? Or ... what is it called - strology or pategy or sandwich, or something.' Rupprecht is not wholly comfortable with exercising the reins of government. Indeed, as a ruler, he has the same dynamism, intellect, and incisive problem-solving qualities as a family pork pie (although the latter has a rather lower fat content). Becuse of his desire to avoid having to make decisions, or do anything really, he has long opined on the desirability of more democratic forms of government, as long as they can fitted within the broad parameters of brutal, arbitrary, and uninformed authoritarianism. 
'Policy and strategy, my lord', says the chamberlain. 'The sandwich is probably for after'. Fecklenburg is suddenly struck by an observation. 'My lord - is there something different about you?'
Rupprecht nods.

'I have fallen off my base, Fecklenburg'.
'That is terrible news sir - are you hurt?''
'No, not really: I fell onto the carpet. But you know, I'm not so sure now that's it's all bad. Without my base, I have discovered a new and pleasing flexibility'.
'In a physical sense, sir?' asks the chamberlain. 'Because I should think that not having a base increases your ability to squeeze yourself into smaller places'.
'Yes, yes', agrees the prince. 'But also in a moral sense as well, which, like physical flexibility, enables me to squeeze myself into smaller places - though of a different kind'.
'Is it actually possible, sir, for your morals to be more flexible? Much more flexing, my lord, and they are surely likely to fall off completely'.

'But anyway, sir, I feel it is necessary to draw your attention to my news'.

Rupprecht rolls his eyes. 'Well, be quick about it!'

'Sir, intelligence has arrived of a most undesirable sort. Kurland has invaded Wurstburp!'

Rupprecht shrugs. 'But I like it when little people hurt one another'.

'My lord - Kurland has declared their support for the cause of Fenwick-Gelderland. In response, Wurstburp has declared war on all of our enemies and announced that they are our allies!'

Rupprecht shrugs again. 'You've said that in italics, Fecklenburg, but I don't see why it is a problem'.

'Because, sir, it means that Wursburp is on our side!'

The prince blanches. 'But we don't want them!' says the prince with concern. 'They're rubbish. They always lose, dragging their allies down with them!'

'Quite so, my prince!'.
'Can't we just ignore them? Hide behind the chaise longue when they turn up for meetings and pretend not to be in?'
'It's done, my lord - our adversaries think we are now all part of a Quadruple Alliance! A foursome is no good!'
'Well that really depends upon the circumstances', says Rupprecht wistfully. 'But couldn't we just be the Triple Alliance With One Other That We Don't Want'.
'It doesn't really have a ring to it', says Fecklenburg sadly.
'Well', says Rupprecht, 'then we should declare war on Wurstburp!'
'Sir, then we'd be at war with four other powers; allied to two; and both allied and at war with another: it's just too complicated, even for Mittelheim'.

'Gads, Fecklenburg - allied to Wurstburp: this is dark news indeed for our cause. Still, on a positive note, it surely means that things can't get any worse'.

Meanwhile, in Wurstburp ...