(Above) At Schloss Tanvaund, Leopold Von Fecklenburg, Prince Rupprecht's Grand Chamberlain stares over the battlements, ruminating on the current situation. For the states that comprised the Spasmodic Sanction, these are troubling times. Now defeated, it is likely that they will be sorely punished by their recent adversaries, the forces of the Vulgarian Convention. The chamberlain has decided, with due trepidation, that there is nothing for it but to try and discuss with Prince Rupprecht the plan of action to inform the peace discussions that will soon begin in the Gelderland village of Streng.
Truthfully, there are worse places to be in the Palatinate of Saukopf-Bachscuttel than Schloss Tanvaund. The hunting lodge does at least have a bath, a facility so little used by others that it often affords the chamberlain some much needed privacy. In that vein, the lodge also sports the very latest in indoor comforts - a drop garderobe (above). Prince Rupprecht spends much of his time here, since it combines for him the functions of water closet, filing cabinet, and evening entertainment.
(Below) Having run out of good reasons to linger, Fecklenburg with a sigh finally begins the short walk to the prince's chambers. Surprisingly, once there the chamberlain finds Rupprecht animated and thoughtful. Defeated in war, with vultures circling his kingdom, Prince Rupprecht is busy considering long and hard a pressing problem.
'Should I have sausage or bacon for breakfast' he asks his chamberlain as he arrives.
Fecklenburg sighs. 'I am moved lord that you should trust me so much that you would seek my guidance for so weighty a question', he says.
'What am I talking about!' continues the prince. 'It's a ridiculous question under the cirumstances!'
'I must agree, my lord, given our defeat and ...'
'I'm the prince!' chortles Rupprecht. 'I'll just have both!'
The chamberlain is forced to wait as the prince works his way through his breakfast.
'Look at this!' says Rupprecht. He points to something long and spiral on his plate. It looks a little bit like the prince is eating a snake, a conclusion that, this being Mittelheim, is only probably not true.
The prince points. 'It is English, Fecklenburg - it is known as a Cumberland sausage'.
The chamberlain pulls a face. 'English food - is that wise sir?'
'There must be some things about England that you like, chamberlain'.
'Yes, sir - leaving'.
'Well your suspicions here are unwarranted. See: a huge sausage covered with lots of bacon. What's not to like. It's pork, taken to the limit. I love it'.
'Indeed, sir - I can see your lardon'.
In relation to the defeat of Bachscuttel in the latest war, Rupprecht has already gone through the seven stages of grief: denial; pain; blame; cakes; sausage rolls; opera; and executions. He is therefore surprisingly phlegmatic in his view on the forthcoming diplomacy.
The chamberlain pulls a face. 'English food - is that wise sir?'
'There must be some things about England that you like, chamberlain'.
'Yes, sir - leaving'.
'Well your suspicions here are unwarranted. See: a huge sausage covered with lots of bacon. What's not to like. It's pork, taken to the limit. I love it'.
'Indeed, sir - I can see your lardon'.
In relation to the defeat of Bachscuttel in the latest war, Rupprecht has already gone through the seven stages of grief: denial; pain; blame; cakes; sausage rolls; opera; and executions. He is therefore surprisingly phlegmatic in his view on the forthcoming diplomacy.
'Have you the arrangements for the congress?' he asks.
'Indeed, sir: we are to meet in the Gelderland village of Streng, where negotiations will begin'.
'And you are clear about our objectives?'
'Indeed sir. To quote my instructions from you: "It was all Nabstria's fault. Punish them instead"'.
'What are we likely to lose?'
'I fear, my lord, that Rotenburg will take another bite out of us'.
'Where will they bite us?'
'Our eastern nether regions, I'm afraid'.
'That's fine. They are all halfwits and drunkards'.
'It is your family's ancestral homeland, sir. And we'll also lose the Bishopric of Schrote. Reperations also are inevitable'.
'As long as they keep their hands off my porkers'.
'I think that to be highly likely, sir, whatever they turn out to be'.
'And I want that war criminal'.
'Herr Plugg, sir, the Gelderland engineer?'
'Yes - I want him executed for war crimes. The detonation of pigs must surely be against the laws of God and man'.
Finishing his sausages and bacon and moving onto coffee, the prince relaxes (below).
'And what of Emperor George?' asks Rupprecht.
The chamberlain considers this matter carefully. 'Rotenburg and Vulgaria are easy enough to guess, my lord. But George of Fenwick is more difficult. He is an enigmatic man, sir. A riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside a rudely shaped pie. Rumour has it, though, that he will seek to unseat King Wilhelm of Gelderland, a man who has proven to be anything but pliable. I suspect that he intends to abdicate the throne of Fenwick in favour of his son, Joachim, and to become King of Gelderland himself!'.
'Choke my chipolatas! Batter my bratwurst! Can it be so? When have we seen such a thing!'
Indeed, sir, it is nothing short of a revolution ...'
'I'll say - look! This is tea not coffee!'
He looks on dispiritedly as Rupprecht pants, red-faced, licking his napkin furiously.
'Holy hotdogs, let as have no more change such as this!' gasps the prince.
'Are we talking sausages or high politics, my lord? Because it's often so difficult for me to tell'.
Rupprecht slowly considers this. 'Both, I think. We need to take radical action. First, beat my chef. Second, we must respond to this challenge to the balance of power in Mittelheim. With George in control of both Gelderland and Fenwick, he will be unstoppable! He will be able to bully, threaten, steal, nip, tweak, jiggle and slap the rest of us as much as he likes!'
'My thoughts also, sir. We must find allies! We must balance! Deter!'
'What? No. We must ingratiate! Wheedle! Oil! Lubricate! We need to get right behind George - with an ally like him, there will be no end to the small-minded cruelties that we can inflict on the weak and incapacitated!'
Fecklenburg nods. 'I am always uplifted, sir, by the scale and breadth of your vision for our country'.
'Indeed, sir: we are to meet in the Gelderland village of Streng, where negotiations will begin'.
'And you are clear about our objectives?'
'Indeed sir. To quote my instructions from you: "It was all Nabstria's fault. Punish them instead"'.
'What are we likely to lose?'
'I fear, my lord, that Rotenburg will take another bite out of us'.
'Where will they bite us?'
'Our eastern nether regions, I'm afraid'.
'That's fine. They are all halfwits and drunkards'.
'It is your family's ancestral homeland, sir. And we'll also lose the Bishopric of Schrote. Reperations also are inevitable'.
'As long as they keep their hands off my porkers'.
'I think that to be highly likely, sir, whatever they turn out to be'.
'And I want that war criminal'.
'Herr Plugg, sir, the Gelderland engineer?'
'Yes - I want him executed for war crimes. The detonation of pigs must surely be against the laws of God and man'.
Finishing his sausages and bacon and moving onto coffee, the prince relaxes (below).
'And what of Emperor George?' asks Rupprecht.
The chamberlain considers this matter carefully. 'Rotenburg and Vulgaria are easy enough to guess, my lord. But George of Fenwick is more difficult. He is an enigmatic man, sir. A riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside a rudely shaped pie. Rumour has it, though, that he will seek to unseat King Wilhelm of Gelderland, a man who has proven to be anything but pliable. I suspect that he intends to abdicate the throne of Fenwick in favour of his son, Joachim, and to become King of Gelderland himself!'.
'Choke my chipolatas! Batter my bratwurst! Can it be so? When have we seen such a thing!'
Indeed, sir, it is nothing short of a revolution ...'
'I'll say - look! This is tea not coffee!'
He looks on dispiritedly as Rupprecht pants, red-faced, licking his napkin furiously.
'Holy hotdogs, let as have no more change such as this!' gasps the prince.
'Are we talking sausages or high politics, my lord? Because it's often so difficult for me to tell'.
Rupprecht slowly considers this. 'Both, I think. We need to take radical action. First, beat my chef. Second, we must respond to this challenge to the balance of power in Mittelheim. With George in control of both Gelderland and Fenwick, he will be unstoppable! He will be able to bully, threaten, steal, nip, tweak, jiggle and slap the rest of us as much as he likes!'
'My thoughts also, sir. We must find allies! We must balance! Deter!'
'What? No. We must ingratiate! Wheedle! Oil! Lubricate! We need to get right behind George - with an ally like him, there will be no end to the small-minded cruelties that we can inflict on the weak and incapacitated!'
Fecklenburg nods. 'I am always uplifted, sir, by the scale and breadth of your vision for our country'.
Alas for Nabstria! Always the defeated supplicant, never the vengeful victor! How can the affairs of Gelderland be decided by this gout ridden poltroon?
ReplyDeleteHow? Well, a combination of hereditary monarchy and large quantities of brandy.
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