Bunny's Too Tight to Mention!

'Have you spoken to the Fenwickian ambassador recently?' asks Casimir with interest.
'A little, my lord', replies Radu Pasha. 'They are certainly keen to have more help in the war - he was very, very solicitous'.
The hospodar nods. 'Was he oily, then?'
'Positively self-basting, sire. And very keen to tell me tales of his previous employment. Did you know that he's actually Prussian?'

'Prussian?'
'Yes, Dread Lord. He was caught up in one of Frederick's terrible tempers. He fled the capital to escape an orgy of enthusiastic beheadings known as the Berlin Hairlift'.
'You don't say?' 
'And then, according to his account, he spent a little time in Vulgaria before being expelled'.

'Expelled?'

'Indeed, lord. Apparently, he killed a French vampire with a baguette'.

'Hmmm', replies Casimir. 'It must have been a painstaking process, I would guess'.

Outside, there is the sound of approaching feet.

'Ah, this must be him', says Radu, before clearing his throat.

The doors are flung open, pages enter, and a large blare of trumpets sounds.

'The Fenwickian envoy, Wolfgang, Graf Hotkreutzbahn!' announces Radu Pasha.

'Ambassador, with this visit you are really spoiling us', says the hospodar.

The Graf bows low. 'Your highness! Greetings from George, King and Emperor of All the Fenwicks, and Also Gelderland, if he can Just Have a Coronation'.

Casimir nods. 'Now, Radu Pasha has indicated that your visit here might not just be a social call?'

'My lord! Dread Lord! Very Dread and Most Benificent Lord! What you say is true! In the spirit of fraternal cooperation, what with us being allies and all, my monarch asks if you would be open to the suggestion that you might order your army to intercept the forces of  the Palatinate of Saukopf-Bachscuttel!' 

The hospodar considers this. 'Well, I could, I suppose. But perhaps my troops could just bask a little longer in their success against the forces of the Margravate of Wurstburp'.

Hotkreutzbahn bows again. 'A wise choice, my lord', he says. The ambassador, however, is a capable fellow, and also an ambitious one. There is a great deal of social climbing that he feels that he needs to achieve. His family was 'upwardly mobile' in the sense that his father had been fired from a mortar. Hotkreutzbahn's plans include a different trajectory: one, for example, that doesn't involve being catapulted from the mouth of some siege artillery. 

'A wise choice, my lord', he repeats. 'But perhaps not the most, ah, heroic option. The Bachscuttel forces are tired, disordered, and also the forces of Bachscuttel: an attack by your troops would surely result in a legendary victory'.

Casimir considers this. 'Hmmm, but I do like the idea of a bit more basking'.

The ambassador gestures urgently. 'But now, surely, is the time to seize the initiative! We need to make Prince Rupprecht sweat!'

Radu Pasha shrugs. 'Just force him to stand up, then - that should do the trick. Or show him some salad. And also, don't call me Shirley'.

A sly look then crosses the face of the Fenwickian ambassador. 'My lord, wouldn't an immediate assault upon General Barry-Eylund also solve the problems caused by your irregular troops?'

'Are there problems?' asks Casimir.

'It is so, great lord!' says the Graf. 'Why, they have been up to all sorts of no good in the diplomatic quarter: stealing, pretending to be English, setting fire to houses ... and people, and the things they've been doing to the poor rabbits ...'

Radu looks at Casimir and shrugs resignedly.

'And then', says the Graf continuing, 'there were the terrible fights when the rabbits struck back'.

Radu can feel the hospodar's eyebrows rising.

'Struck back?' the pasha says.

'Indeed, pasha, indeed. A horde of wily rabbits is now fighting a black hops campaign against the Borats on the streets of Nehrenvar!'

'Is this true, slave?' says Casimir to Radu.

Radu cowers. 'There have been some ... incidents. Ambassador, can't you just buy them off with some ... uh ... carrots?'

Hotkreutzbahn looks shocked, and Radu immediately recognises his mistake: as a Fenwickian, the ambassador could never knowingly handle a carrot, let alone distribute them'.

Casimir sighs. Everyone in the hall immediately goes silent. A sigh from the hospodar often can be essentially the same as an execution drum roll. 'There can't be many other rulers in Mittelheim who have to put up with this sort of thing', he says bemusedly.

'They do have those monkeys in Bachscuttel', says the ambassador.

'True, true', nods Casimir. 'And I suppose they're also ruled by a donkey'.

'Command me, lord' cries Radu, abasing himself.

'Very well, ambassador. I agree! Radu, order our troops to march! Fall upon the Bachscuttlers, defeat them, and make sure that there are terrible casualties amongst our rancid irregulars! My honour demands it!'

'Your will, my hands, lord' cries Radu.

'Huzzah!' shouts Hotkreutzbahn. 'Let battle, or an implausible Mittelheim facsimile of it, commence!'