[Xiomera]

January 9th
Palace of Flowers

"They have seized our assets. They have insulted one of our highest leaders. And now this?" Empress Calhualyana slapped her tablet down on the table in frustration. Prime Minister Toquihu picked up the tablet and looked over the document on the screen. It was an aggrieved email written jointly by the CEOs of the Zacuetz hospitality conglomerate and the Mizhua Corporation. 

Toquihu read the letter aloud. "After we completed the agreed upon project to restore the former naval vessel SLS Neversink into a floating naval museum, along with adjoining hotel and visitors center, we awaited final payment for the project. Instead, the Marquis of Salad Land and his government sent us a letter 'thanking us for our donation'. Since then, the Saladian government has ignored all further demands for payment and has stopped responding to our attempts to contact them entirely. They have also kicked our corporate representatives out of the country. As a result of this blatant theft, we are jointly out of an estimated 74 million quetzals which we are due as payment for the project. We are requesting the help of the Imperial government in recouping these funds..." The Prime Minister trailed off as he placed the tablet back on the table. "What exactly are they expecting us to do?"

"They want us to pressure the Saladians to pay their bill, using the Imperial Navy as a cudgel." Xiyāōtl sighed grimly, as he picked up the tablet and looked it over. "It's ridiculous. The Navy is not a bunch of bill collectors."

"Yes, but a message needs to be sent here. The Saladians have been pretty blatantly snubbing us over the past year. We can't let the world see such small nations mocking us. They'll think we've grown soft. And we can't have that." Calhualyana looked at her husband. "How hard would it be to send a naval force and accompanying Imperial Marines to Salad Land?"

"Oh, not very," Xiyāōtl replied. "I mean, we wouldn't even need a full fleet. A task force with a thousand or so Marines ought to be more than sufficient to deal with the Saladians. Their military, well, isn't. And their last war was fought against a bunch of cats."

The Empress laughed in response. "Oh, yes, that cat war. Very well, put together a small task force and send them over to Salad Land. That should make them release our assets and cough up payment for their bill readily enough. I imagine the Marquis will wet his fancy pants when he sees them off shore."

---

January 22nd
Prime Minister's Residence
Port Salad, Salad Land 

Prime Minister Leighton Taylor was having a leisurely lunch. It was his favorite kind of lunch. He sipped a glass of port and nibbled at his dessert. As he did so, he looked out the window. It was a beautiful day, as it usually was in Salad Land. His view of the ocean stretched for miles, and he could see ships coming and going from the nearby port. One group of ships, though, stood out. It looked odd. Almost as if it was traveling in a convoy.

Taylor stood up and walked to the window. As the odd convoy of ships grew closer, he began to grow uneasy. Just then, his aide came running into the dining hall. "Prime Minister....Xiomerans..." he gasped.

"What about Xiomerans? Spit it out, man!" Taylor demanded.

"They're.....here." The aide pointed out the window. Taylor looked outside again, at the convoy of ships now parked outside the port. He dropped his fork. It rang lightly in the silent room.

---

At the Palace de Salad, the Marquis was receiving a similar message. He walked over to his own window; the dark gray ships were now blocking the port. A series of helicopters were now flying from the flagship towards the capital. "Xiomerans....here...." the Marquis murmured. He suddenly turned to his steward, Dominic Gardner. "I need to change outfits if I am to receive visitors!" He ordered Gardner to bring him his finest outfit. "Dominic, do you think the Xiomerans will want tea? We should prepare tea."

As his court watched in slight dismay, the Marquis began disrobing to change into his elegant clothes for receiving foreign visitors. "Um....your Grace....not to interrupt, but I think perhaps we should take this all a bit more seriously. The Xiomerans..." Gardner said.

de Salad turned to his steward. "Look, whatever happens, once the Xiomerans get here, just follow my lead," the Marquis replied, an unusually serious look on his face. "All of you, remember that....just follow my lead."

Having finished his change of outfit, the Marquis plastered his usual manic and pleasant expression on his face and walked out with Gardner to greet the unexpected visitors.

[Xiomera]

January 22, three hours after the Xiomeran landing
Council of Custodians Chambers, Port Salad

General Tecalca strode briskly up the stairs of the quaint little building that housed the Saladian legislature. An honor guard of Imperial Marines flanked him as he entered the building. He nodded in approval as he noted the other Marines taking up position around the Council building. The Saladian guards had been disarmed and placed into custody when the Xiomerans landed. So far, none of the Saladians had offered any resistance at all, which puzzled the General. But he wasn't inclined to press the issue. His task force was fully in control of Port Salad, as planned. And so far, not a shot had been fired, nor any injuries suffered at all by any of his soldiers. That was a success, in his mind, and he was determined to keep things that way. The General had arrived to dictate terms to the Saladians.

When he entered the small, almost cozy Council Chamber, Tecalca noted that everyone he had demanded be present was in fact there. What passed for a Saladian defense command was lined up against one wall under guard. Police Commissioner Katherine Rudhall looked like she wanted to punch every Xiomeran present, he noted with amusement. General Valentin Daucourt, commander of the Saladian "army", simply looked resigned to the situation. Quinn Mitchell, the commander of the Saladian Air Patrol, also looked like he wanted to punch some Xiomerans. That earned another slight smile of contempt from Tecalca.

In their respective seats, the members of the Council of Custodians were seated, also under guard. Their expressions ranged from stony to clearly frightened. Tecalca dismissed them as the politicians they were.

At the front of the room, as far as Tecalca was concerned, were the only two people that mattered in this farce. Leighton Taylor, the Prime Minister whose order to seize Xiomeran assets had sparked this whole mess, stared down Tecalca with his own expression of contempt for the swaggering General. Next to the PM stood the person who was really in charge of this basket case of a country, though. The Marquis, Bastien de Salad. He stared back at Tecalca with a broad smile on his face. What an idiot grin. Is the man stupid or just foolish? Tecalca wondered.

Stopping a few feet away from Taylor and the Marquis, the General pulled out a tablet from his uniform pocket. "Leaders of Salad Land. I am General Tecalca of the Imperial Marines, commanding the Punitive Expedition. I am here to dictate the terms for which Xiomera shall withdraw from Salad Land. As punishment for your arrogant treatment of our Empire and its people, the following terms must be met. First, you shall immediately release all Xiomeran assets, funds and property which have been seized by your government and return them to the control of their rightful owners. Second, you shall immediately remit all funds owed to the Zacuetz and Mizhua Corporations by your government for work done here. Third, you shall issue an apology, signed by every Saladian official in this room, for your anti-Xiomeran actions and your insults to our Empire."

As the Saladians began to murmur in a mixture of anger and concern, the General continued with a smirk. "Fourth, you shall agree to cede your Wallington Island to the Empire, for construction of an Imperial colony, naval base and military facility. That island shall become Xiomeran property in perpetuity, and any attempt to reclaim it for Salad Land shall result in immediate re-occupation. And fifth," the General finished, "Prime Minister Leighton Taylor must immediately resign and agree to never hold political office in Salad Land again."

"Outrageous!" Taylor bellowed angrily. "Most of your demands are negotiable, sir. But giving you our land is not. And as for resigning, it will be a cold day in Xiomera before I agree to that!"

"Shut up, Leighton," the Marquis murmured under his breath with the smile still plastered on his face.

Tecalca glared at the Prime Minister. "You don't seem to understand, sir. Let me clarify for you. We currently hold your capital. We can easily take control of your entire country within hours, if it even takes that long. And if we have to do that, we will just keep all of Salad Land in perpetuity as our newest colony. You are in absolutely no position to prevent us from doing so. The fact that we are even offering you terms is a courtesy and gesture on our part. We don't have to offer you a damn thing."

Before Taylor could explode again and really put his foot in it, the Marquis stepped forward. "General. This entire discussion is unseemly. Surely we can conduct this in a more civilized fashion. In the Saladian tradition, I am requesting parley with your leader to resolve this matter."

General Tecalca looked at the Marquis. "You are requesting a meeting...with who? Our Prime Minister?"

"No, no no no," the Marquis laughed. "I am a head of state and a monarch. It is only fitting that I discuss such weighty matters with someone on my level. I need to speak with Empress Calhualyana."

The General looked as if someone had just hit him with a board. "You're....asking to speak to my boss? As if I am some merchant in a shop and you want to speak with the manager? I am a General in the Xiomeran Imperial Marines!"

"Yes, but that's the thing, you do work for the Empress. So, yes, I suppose I am asking to speak to your boss." The Marquis folded his arms and stared calmly at Tecalca. "It is only reasonable that, as the leader of Salad Land, that I speak with her and not one of her underlings."

At the word underling, Tecalca's eyes bulged. "You really want to speak with the Empress? Very well! But you know what they say...be careful what you wish for." The General turned to two of his men. "Bring him!" he snapped, pointing at the Marquis and stomping out of the Chamber. Two of the Imperial Marines took each of de Salad's arms and dragged him along behind the General. As they exited, Taylor looked up at the ceiling. "He's negotiating for us now. God help us all."

[Lauchenoiria]

January 23

The Thraxian Royal Army's Feline Division had never seen so much work. Granted, it had not existed this time last year. And granted, all the work was relating to the smallest, strangest nation in the IDU. 

The cat-soldiers were preparing to once more deploy to Salad Land. (Okay, "preparing" in this context meant sleeping in a pile. But still). The difference this time was that they were being sent not to invade the island but to liberate it from other invaders.

Shapur in all his wisdom had decided that he needed to assist his cat's new parents-in-law and their country from the Xiomerans. He had not, however, recalled the general uselessness of domestic cats in warfare - especially against such a powerful foe as the Xiomerans. 

Perhaps he should have hired feral cats instead. 

Chief Advisor Hashemi had been forced to put his own plots aside to talk Shapur out of formally declaring war on Xiomera. Hashemi had completely lost control of his puppet king. The plotting adviser had been unable to plot properly for months. Shapur was breaking out of his cult; a missing 11-year-old knew far too much; and one of Shapur's cats had bitten off part of his toe, as if the creature knew the threat he posed. 

But all Hashemi's plans (and Shapur's, and Leila's, and the unknown Kerlian's) would be in the toilet if the fool started a war with the world's most belligerent quasi-superpower. 

Even the cats knew that!

*

The parrot breeder in the pirate costume, who called herself Zelda (not her real name) had initially found it amusing when the entire Salad Land Lizard Capture Service had come to hide in her one-room beach shack with her and her ten parrots. 

The amusement lasted about 30 minutes before Zelda regretted her agreement. Five adult humans, three adult parrots, and eight juvenile parrots was far too many beings for a one-room beach shack. There wasn't even an indoor toilet!

Still, Zelda saw the necessity of keeping Citlalnite from the Xiomerans. She was associated with him, after all, and they were not known for their mercy. So this - in all its squawking horror - would have to suffice for now. Unfortunately.

[Lauchenoiria]

Also January 23

The Thraxian ambassador to Salad Land was fairly new to his job, having been appointed to replace his predecessor after the cat wedding and the newfound friendship between the two nations. He had been chosen specifically by King Shapur because he was someone who got on well with the King and who would indulge his every madness.

Not that Ambassador Arif El-Amin was mad; he merely had a very juvenile sense of humour and thus found Shapur’s policies to be the height of comedy. He firmly believed that the world would be a better place if everyone was just a little more willing to find the joy in life, and rather than feel rage at the world to laugh at all it threw at you.

Salad Land being invaded by Xiomera was one of those things. Ambassador El-Amin viewed this as a perfect opportunity to bring some humour into the situation. He carefully considered his options, being unable to contact home, and alighted on a perfect plan. All he would need was some chronically online young people, and tins of cat food.

He recruited his chronically online young people fairly easily; by going onto the most currently-popular video streaming app and sorting livestreams by “near me”. He watched a few before finding a pair of nineteen-year-olds pranking random tourists. Then he took a stroll to the vicinity and waited for them to say goodbye to their followers and turn the camera off. Once it was stashed away, he approached.

“How would you like a job?” he asked in heavily-accented English, showing them some cash.

*

Several hours later, he had supplied his new hires with the cat food. They then went systematically across the island, smearing cat food onto all the Xiomeran items they could get near. The pranksters were skilled at sneaking in places to place things; hence the Ambassador’s choice of agent. Thieves took things away; pranksters added things to the scene - and that is precisely what he wanted.

The cat food was additionally laced with catnip. Salad Land was still covered in an excessive number of cats following the “war”, as many feline soldiers had chosen to retire to the island (or, at least, that was the official line, rather than “it’s hard to get the cats to go back on the ships”). The pranksters even did extra, and managed to get the catnip into the pockets of some Xiomeran army uniforms.

And soon, the cats began to come. They’d flock to the Xiomerans, climbing over their equipment and biting at their clothes. Every time a Xiomeran got one off, two more would have replaced it. Truly, it was just the cat-astrophe required.

[Xiomera]

February 1st

As the Marquis waited (and waited) for his chance to speak with the Empress of Xiomera, the Imperial military settled into their occupation of Salad Land.

"Settled" was, perhaps, not quite the word.

The Saladians themselves weren't putting up any overt resistance to the Xiomeran presence. The many cats on the islands were taking care of that for them, thanks to Ambassador El-Amin's prank. The Xiomeran soldiers deployed to Salad Land were quite beside themselves trying to fend off their feline tormentors. Nothing seemed to keep the wily cats out of the Xiomeran camps, their vehicles, or even their clothes. The prank had also left everything with a distinct smell of cat food, which was another annoyance for the Xiomerans to deal with. Overall, despite being on what was normally a tropical paradise, most of the Xiomerans were wishing they had stayed home.

The Xiomerans weren't just finding the cats unwelcoming. While the Saladians weren't openly resisting their occupation, it was clear that they held no great love for their occupiers either. Wherever the Xiomerans went on the islands, service suddenly became exceptionally slow and incompetent, prices unexpectedly rose, and all conversation ceased as unfriendly eyes silently stared at the occupiers. The Xiomerans were also finding that Saladians, having a streak of piracy in them, were quite adept at making off with their valuables and their equipment. All in all, it was hardly a vacation. Even when the exasperated Xiomerans instituted a curfew and checkpoints around the islands, things just kept turning up missing. Or cat-infested.

General Tecalca and his soldiers were therefore quite relieved when the Empress finally deigned to meet with the Marquis. She had held off for several days to make a point. By this point, the Xiomeran soldiers present weren't sure what point was being made or by who.

---

The Marquis was brought into his own throne room by two Xiomeran soldiers, and roughly placed on his throne. A video setup had already been put in place for his meeting with the Empress.

In Tlālacuetztla, the Empress calmly started the video call. She stared expressionlessly at the Marquis, waiting for him to speak. He didn't wait long. "Empress! Hello and good morning! Thank you ever so much for meeting with me," Bastien said warmly. "I am gratified that you appear to be doing well."

Calhualyana smiled slightly. "Marquis. I do not mind sparing a moment to have this conversation, but to be honest, I am not sure what we have to discuss. General Tecalca, as my representative, provided my terms to you. Is there a question or something that was somehow not clear?"

"Oh, everything was clear. But Saladians love a good parley, and I believe we actually have much to talk about." The Marquis grinned as he sat up on his throne. "The terms presented to us are just a bit excessive. Surely we can negotiate something a bit more reasonable."

The Empress arched an eyebrow. This I have to hear. "And what would you suggest?" 

"Well, first of all, I can't very well ask Leighton Taylor to step down. He is the elected leader of our nation, after all. I know you understand the importance of such elections, since you have them in Xiomera with your Prime Minister and your XCP." This statement was offered with a broad smile, without any trace of the sarcasm and mockery it surely deserved. "Also, simply giving you part of our country is excessive. Wallington Island may be uninhabited, but it is still part of our country. Surely Xiomera would not part with its land without compensation, especially for a minor dispute."

Calhualyana laughed without humor. "Minor dispute? Your government owes two Xiomeran companies 74 million quetzals. You seized billions more in our funds in your financial system. You insulted Almahuatzan, a prominent Xiomeran official. All of this was caused by you. And you expect compensation? You are indeed as bold as I have been told. But unlike most, I am not won over by your questionable charms. I possess your entire country and don't have to offer you terms at all. You will need to negotiate better than that."

The Marquis smiled even more broadly. "I can do that! See, here's the situation as I see it. Xiomera is a powerful nation, and indeed, you could hold Salad Land indefinitely. Your army has more people in it than my entire country's population. But you have commitments to Eikangard, to the Kerlians, and to the rest of your far-flung empire. Even the great Xiomeran Empire can be overstretched. And you are, Empress, whether you acknowledge that to the world or not. A long term occupation in Neria is not in your best interest. We both know that. In a few months, you may have to be dealing with problems much closer to home. Say, for example, that Neina Arana becomes the leader of Milintica. You'll need your troops ready to deal with her, not wandering around thousands of miles from home wasting time in Salad Land."

As Calhualyana's expression sharpened, the Marquis waved his hand. "There is also the fact that the world is, shall we say, growing tired of Xiomeran displays of power. You have acted in Huenya, in Auria, and probably in other places as well. For that, you have won yourself sanctions, condemnations and growing scrutiny from entities such as LIDUN. I am not sure, honestly, if you believe the world will remain silent and complacent about Xiomera's actions indefinitely. And certainly, no one else in the world would risk their own lives and treasure to defend my poor little country. But let's be realistic. For every action Xiomera takes, that is another nail in your potential coffin in the opinion of the rest of the world. Sooner or later, if you keep acting so boldly, the final nail will be hammered. The world will turn against you. And even Xiomera cannot withstand that. Will Salad Land be that final nail? Maybe not. Probably not. But do you really want to take that chance when you don't have to? Or do you want to hear me out?"

The Empress mused, chin in hand. "That is a....surprisingly coherent argument," she finally admitted. "I will reward you for that by hearing the rest of what you have to say."

Bastien smiled again. "Wonderful. Here is what I propose. We will release the funds currently being held as sanctions against Xiomera for its actions in Huenya. Leighton made that decision without consulting me, and I frankly think it was a foolish decision. Salad Land is traditionally neutral and open to everyone, and we don't get involved in foreign affairs. Besides, the conflict in Huenya seems to be coming to an end, and I don't see the point for such sanctions anymore. As for Wallington Island...I propose that we offer it to you in exchange for the debt that we owe Mizhua and Zacuetz. Salad Land will never be able to repay 74 million quetzals, but a new conquest for Xiomera should prove more valuable to you than a debt that my country can never hope to repay to some corporations that are subordinate to you in any event. That debt is a minor write off on the books of two giant corporations like that anyway."

Calhualyana shook her head in amazement. "I already occupy your country. Why should I do that? Why should I do any of this?"

Bastien stopped smiling. "Because it's the best deal for both Xiomera and for us. You get what you want - a foothold in Neria. A new colony to present to your people, as another achievement for your 'new Empire'. You get your assets freed. And most of all, you get it all in a way that you can present to the world as a mutual agreement between Xiomera and Salad Land. That should be much more palatable to the international community than terms forced on Salad Land at the point of a gun, and prevent any more damage to your status in the international community. You also avoid having to occupy a hostile land and deal with having your troops tied down so far from home. Or...you can continue on the present course. You can occupy us, overthrow me and our Prime Minister, and be stretched dealing with us while encouraging the world to be even more concerned about you. One approach benefits Xiomera far more than the other, and I am confident you are wise enough to see which one that is."

The Empress stared at the Marquis for a long moment. "You are not the great fool that you present yourself as, are you?" she finally said.

"I have my moments," Bastien replied. "So, do we have a deal?"

"Very well. We have a deal," Calhualyana replied with a wry shake of her head.

"Wonderful! It has been a pleasure doing business with you, Callie," the Marquis said warmly.

The Empress paused. "Indeed. Just one more thing." As the Marquis looked at her questioningly, the Empress frowned grimly. "Don't ever call me Callie again. In fact...you might best want to avoid calling me again altogether." As the call ended, the Marquis sighed with relief. I did it, and I'm not dead. Huh.