[Lauchenoiria]

Jointly written with Xiomera

Yousef Chaher led a sunburned Cranston, a soaking Jose, and a bird-pecked Citlalnite (he’d dropped the parrot food in his surfing escapade, and Tlotli was NOT happy) into the throne room of the Marquis. He was optimistic, things seemed to have gone well earlier, and he felt nice and full with all the salad he’d eaten.

“Ah, Marquis!” he said, in his fake Serrielan accent, as they arrived. “Have you thought over our offer?”

"I have! And it is a most excellent offer, I must say." The Marquis gave his most dazzling smile, perfect teeth gleaming. "I was wondering, however, if you fine gentlemen would be receptive to a counter-offer? Saladians do love to haggle, don't you know." Gardner, standing next to the seated Marquis, nodded sagely as he stroked his mustache.

Yousef smiled, letting out a small chuckle. Okay, fine, he’d play. “I’d certainly be interested in hearing this counter-offer of yours,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Excellent!" The Marquis clapped his hands. A woman who could best be described as gray walked into the room. Gray hair, gray eyes, and (worst of all, from Yousef’s outlook), a gray police uniform. This was Katherine Rudhall, the Commissioner of the Salad Land Police Service. Behind her were several heavily armed (and also gray-uniformed) members of the Special Response Team. At a signal from Rudhall, the officers pointed their rifles at Yousef and his companions.

“Marquis!” Yousef feigned shock. “I don’t understand!”

Tlotli, on the other hand, understood all too well. He squawked and flew off of Citlalnite’s shoulder, attempting to get out of there. “Tlotli!” Citlalnite shouted after his fleeing parrot, followed by something in Huenyan that sounded like cursing.

"You don't understand? Katherine, do be so kind as to enlighten our guest," the Marquis said. Rudhall walked forward, handing Yousef a piece of paper and then stepping back quickly, lest Yousef get some dumb idea like trying to take her hostage. The paper was a copy of the page on the Huaca-class warship from Piper Drummond's book, complete with incriminating picture. "Do you recognize that ship? We do." The Commissioner smiled without humor.

He did. “Remarkable!” he began. “It looks… oh forget it,” he said, dropping the fake accent. “You’re not going to believe whatever nonsense I come out with.” He turned to Jose, shoving the paper at him. “Idiot!” he said to Jose. “You’re always such an idiot!”

“Shut up, Yousef!” Jose whined. “You’re ruining it!”

“Are you really so stupid to think this is still going to work?” Yousef said incredulously. Cranston, for his part, remained completely silent. Nothing could surprise him. Citlalnite was still mournfully staring after Tlotli.

"Ah, the truth at last. Part of it, anyway." The Marquis was still beaming. "I do still want to do a deal with you, though. Here's my counter-offer. You all spend a month in jail here, in conditions not quite as nice as your hotel rooms. That will be followed by immediate deportation and a permanent ban from Salad Land. You will leave your ship here, though. We can still use it. The alternative….well, there are a lot of shark-infested waters east of our happy little islands. We could always see how well you swim." The Marquis somehow managed to grin even bigger.

“That… won’t be necessary,” Yousef sighed. A month wasn’t so bad. “Although if Jose wants to take his chances with the sharks, can I watch?”

Jose was about to open his mouth for some retort, when Tlotli suddenly reappeared, diving right towards Rudhall.

The Commissioner squawked much like a parrot herself, instinctively ducking and firing off a shot from her pistol. Saladian police very rarely have to use their weapons in anger, and their boss even less so. Rudhall was lucky not to shoot herself or the Marquis, instead putting a hole through a priceless painting depicting the landfall of the first settlers on the islands.

“Yes! Get ‘em!” Jose shouted. “Go Tlotli!” Citlalnite joined the cheering as the parrot flew around, aiming itself at the other armed police. Yousef groaned.

"For God's sake, stop shooting, you clowns!" Gardner shouted, stepping in front of the Marquis. Valentin Daucourt, who had run into the room at the sound of gunfire, grabbed his peaked cap and began trying to catch Tlotli inside of it.

As Daucourt attempted to catch the parrot, Jose nudged Citlalnite and the pair began to creep towards the door in an attempt to escape. Yousef saw them and shook his head. Did they really think they’d find some way off the island? Cranston remained with Yousef, standing silently watching the parrot-wrangling attempts.

Jose and Citlalnite almost made it. Almost.

As they reached the doorway, Piper Drummond appeared. She held a revolver in each hand. "Nice try, boys. But let's step back into the room, shall we?" Her raised eyebrow clearly indicated that she partially hoped they wouldn't.

With the looks of naughty schoolboys who’d just been told off, the pair sullenly stepped back inside. Jose suddenly had an epiphany. Or, what passed for one in Jose, anyway.

“We’re not the danger!” Jose said to Piper. “He is!” he pointed at Yousef. “Do you know who he is? He’s Yousef Chaher, Suleman Chaher’s son!”

With that revelation, a sudden silence fell as Tlotli stopped on top of a light fixture. If looks could kill, Jose would have been six feet under given the expression on Yousef’s face.

"Wait. That's Baby Coup?" Drummond said with a grin. Rudhall was less amused. "Were you planning a commie coup here? Is that what this is all about?"

“Can one of the people with guns please shoot me?” Yousef asked. When no bullets seemed forthcoming, he sighed. “No, we were not planning a ‘commie coup’. Do you want to know what we’re doing here? Do you really want to know!?”

He was shouting now, but he didn’t break to let anyone answer before he continued. “My dad was a fool. He let Kerlians use him like an idiot. And I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree because I’m an idiot for coming here on a plan that loser,” he pointed at Jose, “thought up! Do you know why I joined their stupid little criminal gang? Because nobody, not one person, NOT ONE, gave me a chance after they found out who my father was. I had to move five times after the war because of the threats. I was desperate to get out of Lauchenoiria and the only way I could do that was apparently this nonsense. So, please, now you know, just shoot me and GET IT OVER WITH!”

Silence fell again. It was interrupted by Tlotli, who squawked, “arr, abandon ship!” and then pooped, right on Gardner’s head.

The distinguished gentlemen shouted and swiped at his head with a sleeve, as the Marquis guffawed. "Oh, I can't shoot you. You've all provided me the most laughs I've had in ages." When he recovered from his laughter, he smiled. "But we will need to add time to your jail stay. Two more months, one for trying to escape. And one for damage to a historical treasure of Salad Land," he added, pointing to the painting.

“Hey, Cranston and I didn’t try to escape!” Yousef whined, at the same time as Citlalnite asked, “but what about Tlotli!?”

"You can keep your bird with you, if you can control it," the Marquis replied. "As for your sentences, they are not negotiable. However…." he mused. "Your tale of woe has touched me. Once your sentence is served, Chaher, if you want to remain here and promise not to do any more half-assed crimes, I may consider allowing it."

Rudhall and Gardner both gasped. "But…he tried to defraud us, and he's Suleman Chaher’s son…"

The Marquis held up his hand. "My throne, my decision."

Yousef nodded in acknowledgement. When Jose went to open his mouth, Yousef glared at him, mouthing quit while we’re ahead.

"Just remember, if you do stay and break the law again here, the sharks are always an option," the Marquis laughed in an especially nasty way. "Well, off you go then," he said as Rudhall and the other police led them off.