08-02-2025, 12:33 AM
Port Salad
June 15th
Leighton Taylor scuffed the sand of the beach with his heel. Normally, he wouldn't want to mar the impeccable finish of his dress shoes. But there seemed to be little point to worry about it, at the moment.
Taylor had just been dragged out of Zephyr House, the Prime Minister's residence, by the Saladian police. He was now standing on the beach near the cruise ship terminal of Port Salad. Katherine Rudhall, the Saladian Police Commissioner, stood quietly next to him. "So, is this where the story ends?" Taylor said after a moment.
"Oh, this isn't going to be as dramatic as all that," Rudhall said calmly. She walked behind Taylor and slowly unlocked the handcuffs around his wrists. "You're not going to be shot or anything. But you are going. Away from Salad Land, that is."
As Taylor looked over his shoulder in surprise, Rudhall continued. "The official story will be that you escaped from us somehow. But in reality, I'm letting you go. The Marquis is a bit....upset with you. And I don't want you on my conscience if I hand you over to him."
"Do I get to decide where I am going, at least?" Taylor snorted.
"For now, you're hopping on the Saladian Princess," Rudhall said, pointing to a nearby cruise ship. "Don't worry, your ticket is already paid for by some friendly local interests who also don't want to see you come to harm. The Princess is going to take you, along with some of your former party luminaries, on a nice little trip to Serriel. After that, where you go is up to you. I would recommend somewhere far from Neria, though."
Taylor sighed. "I suppose you want me to keep quiet and stay out of the overly-coiffed and product-laden hair of the Marquis once I get to wherever that is."
Rudhall shook her head. "What you do with your life is up to you, Leighton, truly. I am only making sure you keep that life, and whatever options present themselves to you. I have no expectations of you."
Taylor smiled slowly. "Aren't you afraid of what the Marquis might do if he finds out you let me go?"
"The Marquis doesn't have the guns. I do. I'll be fine," Rudhall said in the same calm voice.
Taylor turned back to stare at the ocean. "What about Patenaude? You know he is beside himself at the idea of selling out to the Xiomerans and their dirty money. What happens then, once I am gone?"
Rudhall stepped slightly closer, whispering. "Like I said, I have the guns. Patenaude doesn't have them any more than the Marquis does. If they go too far, there will be conversations. And reining in of ambitions." Despite the warmth of the ever-present Saladian sun beating down on him, Taylor took a slight chill at the Commissioner's words.
Rudhall gave a final nod, before turning sharply on her heel and walking away. Taylor took that as his cue. With another sigh, he began walking towards his ride away from Salad Land. A final thought crossed his mind as he walked. Katherine may think she has the guns, but the Xiomerans have a lot more of them. I hope she knows what she's doing.
---
Port Salad
One month later
"Today is a great and historic moment for Salad Land," Valeré Patenaude said with a huge grin.
The Prime Minister waved his hand enthusiastically as he gestured in front of the assembled reporters. "At times past, due to the inept political grandstanding of my predecessor, Salad Land and Xiomera were at odds. But that never had to be the case. And thanks to new management, it isn't the case any longer. We are pleased to launch the groundbreaking for this new port and airport for Port Salad, the first of many profitable ventures between our two great countries."
Citlalic, the new Imperial Ambassador to Salad Land, smiled politely as she stood next to the bloviating Patenaude. One great country, at least, she thought with bemusement. She kept that thought from coloring the expression on her face, schooled to dignified courtesy that revealed nothing as expected of a Xiomeran diplomat.
Patenaude rambled on as he revealed the full extent of Xiomeran "investment" into Salad Land through its Imperial International Investment Bank. New government buildings, schools, transportation infrastructure and tourism improvements. All for the low, low price of giving Xiomera an expanded foothold in Neria for its military and economy. The ultimate goal being to begin redeeming Calhualyana's promises of a "New Empire" to an increasingly skeptical population at home.
"Salad Land has historically been a neutral country, open to all who want to invest, visit and enjoy our paradise in the sun and shimmering oceans of Neria with us. Under my administration, and with the understandings achieved between Empress Calhualyana and our Marquis de Salad, we will restore that historic neutrality. Together, Salad Land and Xiomera will show that despite any political or social differences, people can still come together in good will and prosper in mutual respect and cooperation."
Patenaude turned to Citlalic for the usual handshaking photo op. As Citlalic turned as well to face the cameras, her eyes glinted briefly in the light. The sharks in the oceans surrounding Salad Land would have envied Citlalic those eyes.
---
Chuaztlapoc, Huenya
August 1st
"Valeré Patenaude is a sellout," Leighton Taylor thundered.
His hands gripped the podium fiercely as he stared down the cameras of the media. "He has sold Salad Land to Xiomera for a pittance, turning it into a mere vassal state of the same evil empire that invaded us not that long ago. As part of her original terms for ending that occupation, Empress Calhualyana demanded my removal as Prime Minister. She eventually got her wish, in an election that was swung against me by the infusion of money from Imperial Intelligence. But she has not silenced me, and she has not silenced loyal Saladians who still value country over Imperial coin. The protests against the Xiomeran entanglements Patenaude has placed upon Salad Land, through the Imperial investment bank, are proof of that." Taylor slapped the top of the podium. "It is highly likely that Patenaude and top officials have been bribed by Xiomera, and are receiving continuing kickbacks, as part of these dirty investments by Xiomera. It is nothing more than debt-trap diplomacy, and Saladians will put a stop to it sooner or later."
"But for now, we have other friends of Salad Land who will help us resist Xiomera. I will let them speak for themselves," Taylor said with a smile. He stepped back, and President Xiadani stepped up to the microphones. "Good morning. I will be brief. Imperial expansion into Neria should be of concern to us all. Along with Imperial efforts to expand into Hesperida, the collaboration by Patenaude and his government with the regime represents a new and emergent threat to democratic nations," Xiadani said with her usual businesslike tone. "Accordingly, the government of the Huenyan Federation is placing sanctions on Prime Minister Patenaude, the Marquis Bastien de Salad, and members of the ruling party in the Council of Custodians. We are also encouraging Huenyan citizens and businesses to boycott Salad Land until the Patenaude government rescinds its cooperation with the Imperial regime."
The President and Taylor then posed for their own handshaking photo op, much more pleasant than the other one.
---
Port Salad, Palace de Salad, an hour later
"Who cares if the Huenyans sanction or boycott us? They can't afford us anyway," Valeré Patenaude said with a smirk. The Marquis, sitting across from him, was uncharacterstically quiet. "I don't know. This isn't the first deal we've made with the Xiomerans, and they remain profitable on the surface. But I am concerned that we are getting too intertwined with them in our affairs."
"The danger isn't in working with the Xiomerans. It's in opposing them, as they demonstrated all too well when they had us staring down the barrels of their guns." Patenaude shook his head. "It's a far safer course to smile and nod at them and take their money. That will prevent negative consequences, and fill our national and personal coffers also. It's a win-win really."
"And if other nations decide our 'arrangements' with Xiomera are distasteful, and decide to stop doing business with us as the Huenyans are threatening? What then?" The Marquis winced. "I wonder if I have been too clever for our own good, getting into bed - figuratively speaking! - with Calhualyana."
Patenaude laughed. "No one cares about the Huenyans' complaining. On the world stage, the Huenyans are the equivalent of the naive, earnest college student who stridently tries to get you to care about various causes while angling for you to come volunteer at their vegan sheep-farming commune." The Prime Minister snorted. "They've been prattling on about the Xiomerans like a jilted ex-lover ever since their independence, but has anyone listened to them and done anything about Xiomera? Of course not. Wise leaders see that there is no profit in angering or fighting one of the premier economic and military powers in our world. Stay the course, Bastien, and trust me. Together, we'll see the profit roll in and all Saladians will prosper for it."
"Our people don't seem as thrilled as we are about embracing the country that literally threatened to annex us not long ago." The Marquis sighed with the pained expression of a man who really, really wanted to be liked by everyone and wasn't happy when he wasn't popular.
"When they get rich, like we will, they'll get over it. Everything will be just fine," Patenaude said, lighting another of his iconic cigars.
---
Port Salad City Hall
"We need new buses for the city bus routes," Mark Spencer said. A sharp cough cut him off. "We need to replace the city's traffic signals more," Alicia Lefebvre snapped.
The director of the Saladian Public Transit Authority and the commissioner of the Port Salad Infrastructure Commission glared at each other. A third voice chimed in. "Those things are all well and good, but the Port Salad Public Library could really use some new books. Our largest collections right now are fifteen copies of the Marquis' memoirs Love Me, Love My Islands and twenty copies of Saladian history books that are old enough to constitute historic artifacts in their own right."
The other two laughed at chief librarian David Palmer. "Books aren't good at directing traffic," Lefebvre said with disdain. "Or at getting people around!" Spencer snapped.
The three of them looked at the new Mayor of Port Salad expectantly. "Well, Mr. Mayor? Which are you going to fund?"
Leaning back on his perch, Tlotli eyed the three officials. "Arr, dead men tell no tales," the Mayor-parrot squawked.
"What the hell does that mean?" Lefebvre said after a moment. "Um....it means he approved all our funding requests," Palmer said suddenly. "Anyone who is versed in historic pirate-speak will tell you so. Well, I will anyway, and as Chief Librarian, I would know!"
Spencer and Lefebvre both grinned slowly. "So....where does the money actually come from?" Spencer replied.
"The Mayor will get it from the Xiomerans, I guess," Palmer shrugged. "Everyone else is."
The three officials sprinted out of the room, their dreams of funding 'approved' by the Mayor-parrot.
As word of the Mayor's generosity spread, soon everyone in Port Salad with a title and a suddenly found, urgent need for funding would pay Tlotli a visit. New police cars for the Port Salad Police. New ambulances for the Port Salad Medical Service. All the way down to new park benches and semi-legitimate funding for "public service non-profits" that officials could have sworn didn't exist the day before. Port Salad was feeling the need to spend, and Mayor Tlotli was squawking approval for it all. At least, Palmer was telling everyone that.
June 15th
Leighton Taylor scuffed the sand of the beach with his heel. Normally, he wouldn't want to mar the impeccable finish of his dress shoes. But there seemed to be little point to worry about it, at the moment.
Taylor had just been dragged out of Zephyr House, the Prime Minister's residence, by the Saladian police. He was now standing on the beach near the cruise ship terminal of Port Salad. Katherine Rudhall, the Saladian Police Commissioner, stood quietly next to him. "So, is this where the story ends?" Taylor said after a moment.
"Oh, this isn't going to be as dramatic as all that," Rudhall said calmly. She walked behind Taylor and slowly unlocked the handcuffs around his wrists. "You're not going to be shot or anything. But you are going. Away from Salad Land, that is."
As Taylor looked over his shoulder in surprise, Rudhall continued. "The official story will be that you escaped from us somehow. But in reality, I'm letting you go. The Marquis is a bit....upset with you. And I don't want you on my conscience if I hand you over to him."
"Do I get to decide where I am going, at least?" Taylor snorted.
"For now, you're hopping on the Saladian Princess," Rudhall said, pointing to a nearby cruise ship. "Don't worry, your ticket is already paid for by some friendly local interests who also don't want to see you come to harm. The Princess is going to take you, along with some of your former party luminaries, on a nice little trip to Serriel. After that, where you go is up to you. I would recommend somewhere far from Neria, though."
Taylor sighed. "I suppose you want me to keep quiet and stay out of the overly-coiffed and product-laden hair of the Marquis once I get to wherever that is."
Rudhall shook her head. "What you do with your life is up to you, Leighton, truly. I am only making sure you keep that life, and whatever options present themselves to you. I have no expectations of you."
Taylor smiled slowly. "Aren't you afraid of what the Marquis might do if he finds out you let me go?"
"The Marquis doesn't have the guns. I do. I'll be fine," Rudhall said in the same calm voice.
Taylor turned back to stare at the ocean. "What about Patenaude? You know he is beside himself at the idea of selling out to the Xiomerans and their dirty money. What happens then, once I am gone?"
Rudhall stepped slightly closer, whispering. "Like I said, I have the guns. Patenaude doesn't have them any more than the Marquis does. If they go too far, there will be conversations. And reining in of ambitions." Despite the warmth of the ever-present Saladian sun beating down on him, Taylor took a slight chill at the Commissioner's words.
Rudhall gave a final nod, before turning sharply on her heel and walking away. Taylor took that as his cue. With another sigh, he began walking towards his ride away from Salad Land. A final thought crossed his mind as he walked. Katherine may think she has the guns, but the Xiomerans have a lot more of them. I hope she knows what she's doing.
---
Port Salad
One month later
"Today is a great and historic moment for Salad Land," Valeré Patenaude said with a huge grin.
The Prime Minister waved his hand enthusiastically as he gestured in front of the assembled reporters. "At times past, due to the inept political grandstanding of my predecessor, Salad Land and Xiomera were at odds. But that never had to be the case. And thanks to new management, it isn't the case any longer. We are pleased to launch the groundbreaking for this new port and airport for Port Salad, the first of many profitable ventures between our two great countries."
Citlalic, the new Imperial Ambassador to Salad Land, smiled politely as she stood next to the bloviating Patenaude. One great country, at least, she thought with bemusement. She kept that thought from coloring the expression on her face, schooled to dignified courtesy that revealed nothing as expected of a Xiomeran diplomat.
Patenaude rambled on as he revealed the full extent of Xiomeran "investment" into Salad Land through its Imperial International Investment Bank. New government buildings, schools, transportation infrastructure and tourism improvements. All for the low, low price of giving Xiomera an expanded foothold in Neria for its military and economy. The ultimate goal being to begin redeeming Calhualyana's promises of a "New Empire" to an increasingly skeptical population at home.
"Salad Land has historically been a neutral country, open to all who want to invest, visit and enjoy our paradise in the sun and shimmering oceans of Neria with us. Under my administration, and with the understandings achieved between Empress Calhualyana and our Marquis de Salad, we will restore that historic neutrality. Together, Salad Land and Xiomera will show that despite any political or social differences, people can still come together in good will and prosper in mutual respect and cooperation."
Patenaude turned to Citlalic for the usual handshaking photo op. As Citlalic turned as well to face the cameras, her eyes glinted briefly in the light. The sharks in the oceans surrounding Salad Land would have envied Citlalic those eyes.
---
Chuaztlapoc, Huenya
August 1st
"Valeré Patenaude is a sellout," Leighton Taylor thundered.
His hands gripped the podium fiercely as he stared down the cameras of the media. "He has sold Salad Land to Xiomera for a pittance, turning it into a mere vassal state of the same evil empire that invaded us not that long ago. As part of her original terms for ending that occupation, Empress Calhualyana demanded my removal as Prime Minister. She eventually got her wish, in an election that was swung against me by the infusion of money from Imperial Intelligence. But she has not silenced me, and she has not silenced loyal Saladians who still value country over Imperial coin. The protests against the Xiomeran entanglements Patenaude has placed upon Salad Land, through the Imperial investment bank, are proof of that." Taylor slapped the top of the podium. "It is highly likely that Patenaude and top officials have been bribed by Xiomera, and are receiving continuing kickbacks, as part of these dirty investments by Xiomera. It is nothing more than debt-trap diplomacy, and Saladians will put a stop to it sooner or later."
"But for now, we have other friends of Salad Land who will help us resist Xiomera. I will let them speak for themselves," Taylor said with a smile. He stepped back, and President Xiadani stepped up to the microphones. "Good morning. I will be brief. Imperial expansion into Neria should be of concern to us all. Along with Imperial efforts to expand into Hesperida, the collaboration by Patenaude and his government with the regime represents a new and emergent threat to democratic nations," Xiadani said with her usual businesslike tone. "Accordingly, the government of the Huenyan Federation is placing sanctions on Prime Minister Patenaude, the Marquis Bastien de Salad, and members of the ruling party in the Council of Custodians. We are also encouraging Huenyan citizens and businesses to boycott Salad Land until the Patenaude government rescinds its cooperation with the Imperial regime."
The President and Taylor then posed for their own handshaking photo op, much more pleasant than the other one.
---
Port Salad, Palace de Salad, an hour later
"Who cares if the Huenyans sanction or boycott us? They can't afford us anyway," Valeré Patenaude said with a smirk. The Marquis, sitting across from him, was uncharacterstically quiet. "I don't know. This isn't the first deal we've made with the Xiomerans, and they remain profitable on the surface. But I am concerned that we are getting too intertwined with them in our affairs."
"The danger isn't in working with the Xiomerans. It's in opposing them, as they demonstrated all too well when they had us staring down the barrels of their guns." Patenaude shook his head. "It's a far safer course to smile and nod at them and take their money. That will prevent negative consequences, and fill our national and personal coffers also. It's a win-win really."
"And if other nations decide our 'arrangements' with Xiomera are distasteful, and decide to stop doing business with us as the Huenyans are threatening? What then?" The Marquis winced. "I wonder if I have been too clever for our own good, getting into bed - figuratively speaking! - with Calhualyana."
Patenaude laughed. "No one cares about the Huenyans' complaining. On the world stage, the Huenyans are the equivalent of the naive, earnest college student who stridently tries to get you to care about various causes while angling for you to come volunteer at their vegan sheep-farming commune." The Prime Minister snorted. "They've been prattling on about the Xiomerans like a jilted ex-lover ever since their independence, but has anyone listened to them and done anything about Xiomera? Of course not. Wise leaders see that there is no profit in angering or fighting one of the premier economic and military powers in our world. Stay the course, Bastien, and trust me. Together, we'll see the profit roll in and all Saladians will prosper for it."
"Our people don't seem as thrilled as we are about embracing the country that literally threatened to annex us not long ago." The Marquis sighed with the pained expression of a man who really, really wanted to be liked by everyone and wasn't happy when he wasn't popular.
"When they get rich, like we will, they'll get over it. Everything will be just fine," Patenaude said, lighting another of his iconic cigars.
---
Port Salad City Hall
"We need new buses for the city bus routes," Mark Spencer said. A sharp cough cut him off. "We need to replace the city's traffic signals more," Alicia Lefebvre snapped.
The director of the Saladian Public Transit Authority and the commissioner of the Port Salad Infrastructure Commission glared at each other. A third voice chimed in. "Those things are all well and good, but the Port Salad Public Library could really use some new books. Our largest collections right now are fifteen copies of the Marquis' memoirs Love Me, Love My Islands and twenty copies of Saladian history books that are old enough to constitute historic artifacts in their own right."
The other two laughed at chief librarian David Palmer. "Books aren't good at directing traffic," Lefebvre said with disdain. "Or at getting people around!" Spencer snapped.
The three of them looked at the new Mayor of Port Salad expectantly. "Well, Mr. Mayor? Which are you going to fund?"
Leaning back on his perch, Tlotli eyed the three officials. "Arr, dead men tell no tales," the Mayor-parrot squawked.
"What the hell does that mean?" Lefebvre said after a moment. "Um....it means he approved all our funding requests," Palmer said suddenly. "Anyone who is versed in historic pirate-speak will tell you so. Well, I will anyway, and as Chief Librarian, I would know!"
Spencer and Lefebvre both grinned slowly. "So....where does the money actually come from?" Spencer replied.
"The Mayor will get it from the Xiomerans, I guess," Palmer shrugged. "Everyone else is."
The three officials sprinted out of the room, their dreams of funding 'approved' by the Mayor-parrot.
As word of the Mayor's generosity spread, soon everyone in Port Salad with a title and a suddenly found, urgent need for funding would pay Tlotli a visit. New police cars for the Port Salad Police. New ambulances for the Port Salad Medical Service. All the way down to new park benches and semi-legitimate funding for "public service non-profits" that officials could have sworn didn't exist the day before. Port Salad was feeling the need to spend, and Mayor Tlotli was squawking approval for it all. At least, Palmer was telling everyone that.
<t></t>