[Xiomera]

November 8th
Council of Custodians Chambers

Normally, sessions of the Council of Custodians were simple and quiet affairs. The thirty-six members of the Saladian legislature (those who bothered to show up to session, anyway) weren't the aggressively diligent type. Usually, they were on their phones, napping, or chatting while whoever was at the podium nattered on about whatever it was they were talking about. Today, however, was different.

Prime Minister Leighton Taylor had everyone's full attention for once. Since his abrupt decision to leave the Unlimited Salad Party and run on a platform of ending the Saladian monarchy, Taylor had been the chief subject of talk around the Council Chambers. Around the entire country, for that matter. The Custodians were all there for once, and were watching and listening intently.

"The decision I made was not one made lightly," Taylor said, to a mix of booing and cheers. The Speaker of the Council, Valeré Patenaude, would have normally tried to maintain order as Taylor was speaking. But as he was now Taylor's chief rival in the PM race, he was content to let Taylor be in the hot seat.

"It is clear that the Marquis is a criminal and a conman, not to mention a minor tyrant. He's no Calhualyana, admittedly, but still, Salad Land can do better. We don't need a ruler. If other countries can do it, so can we! Join me and the new Toss de Salad Party, and let's be rid of the Marquis once and for all! Saladians deserve honest, fair and competent leadership!"

"You mean the kind of leadership like yours, that almost got us conquered by the Xiomerans?" Patenaude sneered, interrupting Taylor. The Prime Minister turned red as Patenaude's backers cheered. "I don't apologize for trying to do the right thing, unlike you and your side that seems to try to avoid the right thing like it's a plague of lizards!" Taylor shouted. "Some of us are done with being led by crooks!"

A USP-aligned Custodian named Julien Babineaux stood up. "Je t'emmerde!" he shouted, reaching under his desk and grabbing something. He quickly removed a bit of plastic wrap and lobbed it at Taylor. The object flew through the air with stunning accuracy, striking Taylor in the chest. It was a small Caesar salad. Croutons, lettuce and cheese exploded all over Taylor's fine suit. A single tomato landed on the Great Seal of Salad Land behind Taylor with a wet plop.

Now, throwing a salad at someone is a grave insult in Salad Land. It is, in fact, one of the worst insults possible to a Saladian. Taylor looked down at his now-Caesared suit. His face reddened even more. "Bastard!" he shouted back, grabbing the now empty bowl and throwing it back at Babineaux. It struck Babineaux on his prominent forehead with a satisfying thwack. Babineaux dropped into his chair with a loud groan.

The resulting brawl required the full attention of the Saladian Police Service to bring to an end. With that, election season was underway in Salad Land.

[Xiomera]

November 25th
Palace de Salad

With the Saladian elections less than a week away, one could forgive Bastien de Salad for being a bit nervous. After all, the upstart Toss de Salad Party was gaining a surprising amount of support. And if they won, the Marquis could find himself out of his palace. Perhaps even in a jail cell, if Leighton Taylor had his way.

Lounging on his throne, however, the Marquis seemed not even a little flustered. His hair, as always, was groomed and styled to perfection. His outfit, as always, was impeccably tailored to highlight his trim and well-maintained figure without a thread out of place. The Marquis idly bit on an apple as he looked at the latest report from Lord Steward Dominic Gardner. "You're worrying entirely too much, Dominic." Crunch. "I am beloved by the Saladian people. Hell, I'm practically a tourist attraction. Patenaude and the USP are doing just fine as well. He will win the election. I'm not going anywhere, no matter what Leighton and his little band of malcontents try to do in this election." Crunch.

Dominic looked at the Marquis, clearly more concerned than his boss. "With all due respect, sire, Leighton may be tapping into a more potent vein of discontent with the House of de Salad than we realize. Shouldn't we take him at least a little seriously?"

The Marquis looked up from his papers, sighing in a slightly condescending way. "Dominic. Listen carefully. I am not going anywhere."

The Steward caught the look the Marquis was giving him, and the light suddenly dawned on him. "Ah...I see, sire."

The Marquis smirked. "Good." Crunch.

---

Palace of Flowers, Xiomera

Empress Calhualyana looked over some notes on her tablet as her Minister of Security spoke. "Our efforts to influence the Saladian elections have been most fruitful, your Majesty. And at a pittance, I might add. Salad Land is such a small country, it costs practically nothing at all to run an operation against them, figuratively speaking." Tochuitli smiled as he gestured at a screen on the wall. "Our online operation has already nudged the polls back up three points in Patenaude's favor. We are seeing similar results for the Custodians we are backing in the Council elections."

Telchiuhtli, the Director of Imperial Intelligence, nodded in agreement. "If the current trend lines continue, Patenaude and the USP should win just convincingly enough to completely discredit Taylor and his little party. We should thus secure a more....agreeable government in Salad Land moving forward."

The Empress smiled broadly as she looked over the report. Leighton Taylor was a petty little politician from a petty little country. But that petty little country just happened to control a significant part of the international offshore banking system. That was a problem for Xiomera, as Taylor had proven when he had frozen Xiomeran assets with sanctions. That wasn't going to happen again. Taylor, gods (and Imperial Intelligence) willing, would lose and be out of politics. A useful puppet in the form of Patenaude would be Prime Minister. And the Marquis, who had already shown himself willing to deal with the Xiomerans when needed, would keep his throne. All for a relative pittance, as Tochuitli had said. The Xiomerans wouldn't even have to invade again or assassinate Taylor or do any other potentially eye-catching actions. And it would all have the veneer of a respectable democratic election. Who could argue with that result?

Calhualyana took a sip of her drink with a smile. I do so love elections.

[Lauchenoiria]

The unwilling members of the Salad Land Lizard Capture Service did not know, or care, about Xiomeran election interference. They did not care about the future of Salad Land. They did, however, care about their own futures, and they knew one thing - the Marquis de Salad was much easier to work with than a less… unusual government would be. After all, the good members of the Lizard Capture Service were quite weird themselves.

It was to this end that they wrote the Marquis a secret letter, to be delivered by a messenger skilled at entering spaces unnoticed through the smallest of entrances. (Yes, we are talking about a cat. Did you really think it would be anything else?)

The letter read thus:

Dear Marquis Bastien de Salad,

We, your loyal members of the Salad Land Lizard Capture Service, are distraught and disheartened to learn of the Prime Minister’s betrayal of you and the values of Salad. We have worked hard to rid this land of the plague of lizards, but we now propose another direction:

We can use the lizards, and the beasts of your new ally (your cat’s father-in-law, King Shapur of Zargothrax) to defeat the enemies of the House of de Salad! Additionally, if you need any last-minute candidates for any minor seats, we have a great idea. This will work best in places with lots of people who are chronically online.

If you wish to take us up on our offer, we shall be contactable via the Parrot House, South Beach.

Yours,

Yousef et al.

[Xiomera]

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.

[Lauchenoiria]

“It’s over!” crowed Yousef Chaher as he practically skipped back to the City Hall. “We have FINALLY accounted for all the lizards!”

The Salad Land Lizard Capture Service had worked hard for over two years now to catch precisely 400 (thankfully sterile) lizards which had escaped and spread throughout the island nation thanks to an incident with a Thraxian ship’s illegal cargo. Some had been captured or killed during the Cat War, as it was known locally; but that had left many unaccounted for and hiding in all sorts of nooks and crannies.

In total, they had captured 283 lizards and confirmed (or caused) the death of the rest. This final lizard they had finally found being kept secretly as a pet by a class of seven-year-old schoolchildren in the school toilets. And now it is over! They would be able to report back to the authorities and would finally, finally be able to get out of this mess of a country!

“Tlotli, we got it!” Citlalnite called out as they burst into the Mayor’s Office. Cranston followed silently, with José carrying the lizard in its new cage.

“You want me to take this to the Thraxians?” José asked, poking the lizard with a twig through the bars. The lizard eyed him threateningly, biting the end off the twig.

“I think the Thraxians are a bit too distracted to be worried about the lizards at this point,” a voice interrupted. Police Commissioner Katherine Rudhall walked past José, greeting the Mayor-parrot Tlotli in a friendly tone and receiving a polite squawk in return. “I do want to congratulate you all on a fine job. De-lizarding Salad Land was quite a task, but you all surely did the task excellently.”

The four Saladian Police who had followed Rudhall into the Mayor’s Office smirked at her words, causing a fair number of eyebrows to raise in the room.

“So, your skills at reining in unwanted invasive species were commented on at the Palace de Salad. The Marquis was very pleased with your work. But I am afraid we have another problem. The Cat War left us with cats. Rather a lot of them. The Thraxians placed 10,000 of them in Salad Land as their ‘invasion’. About half of that number were left here after the ‘war’. That was almost two years ago.” Rudhall sighed. “Since then….the cats have been doing one of the things that cats do. Namely, breeding. Female cats have litters of somewhere between four to six kittens per birth, and can get pregnant again within two weeks of their last birth.” Rudhall shook her head. “We thought the lizards were a problem, but we didn’t know what a problem was until the Thraxians dumped a wave of kitten machines upon us. We’ve opened up multiple cat cafes around the islands for the tourists and the locals. We’ve begun offering ‘Exotic Paradise Cats of Salad Land’ for sale around the world - ‘free kittens included in 6-8 weeks with female versions’. But it isn’t enough. We are just swamped with felines.”

The Commissioner smiled broadly. “But this is where you come in. Again. You did so well with the lizard plague that the Marquis is just too unwilling to see such rare talent leave us. So, the Lizard Capture Service is being repurposed. It will now become the Salad Land Cat Crew. Helping our veterinarians and animal control wrangle all the stray cats and kittens for TNR will be its mission. As well as screening to see which kitties can be rehoused.”

Rudhall continued into the silence that had enveloped the room. “It will be highly marketable and open to all sorts of promotional opportunities. Who doesn’t love cats, especially online?” Rudhall grinned even more widely. “You’ll even get a small cut of the promotional proceeds. The Marquis is inclined to be generous as he is so pleased with your work. You’ll even get new free uniforms, complete with cute cat ears and bushy little tails. We are so pleased you’ll be staying with us for this new venture,” the Commissioner finished in the tone of someone already decided.

Her police escorts cracked even bigger smiles as the reward for a task well done was revealed - another task.

“No! No, I will NOT stay here one second longer!” Chaher shouted, finally having the breakdown that was a long time coming. “Ji-hun Chung sent us here in the first place - go find that snake and bring him here instead! The cats will probably take one look at his stupid face and drop dead!”

He ripped the lizard tail off his uniform and tried to storm out of the room but his way was blocked.

“Come on Yousef,” José said, grinning. “Cats are way more fun than lizards; I love them and this isn’t that bad a place. Nobody calls you Junta Junior here!”

Chaher spun around, and would quite possibly have killed José had Cranston not stepped forward and silently restrained him.

“It is fine,” Citlalnite said quickly. “We will do as you ask. Allow us to first deposit the final lizard in the lizard cupboard.”

He quickly turned around to exit, Cranston pulling along Yousef behind him.

“But I’m ALLERGIC to cats!” Yousef protested, as he was dragged from the room.

“Please, you just sneeze a little bit!” José said cheerily. “Maybe we can name the cats! I have loads of cat name ideas…”

His voice trailed off as they got farther from the mayor’s office.

Tlotli fluffed his feathers and turned to Rudhall.

“Heave-ho, hearties,” he squawked approvingly.

*

Once outside the building, Citlalnite took Yousef aside.

“Don’t object in front of them,” he warned. “There are too many Xiomerans around. Tlotli can protect us somewhat, but you can’t trust Patenaude. Be careful.”