By Political Correspondent, Inverness Bureau
The long-simmering dispute between the Kingdom of Eyehasseen and its tiresome neighbour Marelia has reached what government officials describe as “a state of polite aggravation.” Though neither side has issued a formal declaration of war, both have done nearly everything else customarily required to begin one.
Official Posturing and Unofficial Preparations
On Moonday morning, the Ministry of Foreign Assertions confirmed that Marelian airships had once again drifted across the demarcation line “for purposes described as accidental and observed as otherwise.” Two Eyehasseen patrol craft of the Royal Air Navy rose to intercept them, escorting the intruders back with the aid of several strongly worded semaphore signals and one warning flare of an interpretive nature.
The Prime Minister, addressing Parliament shortly thereafter, urged calm while wearing his most martial tie. “Let no man say we seek conflict,” he declared. “But let every man stand ready to defend our right to disapprove of Marelia in whatever manner seems fitting.” The House responded with applause, followed by a brief argument about whose constituency contains the best vantage point for watching airships explode.
Behind the scenes, however, activity has quickened. The Royal Army has quietly repositioned several battalions to the Northern Border, officially for “exercises in advanced loitering.” Local residents report increased traffic of steam-wagons, messenger pigeons, and suspiciously well-fed horses. One farmer in Eastmarch claims to have seen an entire regiment “practising enthusiasm.”
Provocations from the Marelian Side
In Marelia, the government has maintained its traditional policy of denial followed by confusion. The Marelian Minister of Defence, speaking through an interpreter who appeared reluctant, insisted that any military buildup along their frontier is purely ceremonial. “Our troops,” he said, “are merely saluting the landscape.” When asked about the visible deployment of cannon, he replied that they were “art installations celebrating the spirit of peace.”
Eyehasseen intelligence sources, however, remain unconvinced. Anonymous officials within the Bureau of Predictable Outcomes have identified Marelia’s recent import of 40,000 pairs of identical boots as “a clue of some magnitude.” Others point to the steady increase in Marelian propaganda leaflets depicting Eyehasseen citizens as “pampered islanders incapable of proper soup.”
Public Sentiment: Stirred, but Civil
The populace has responded to these developments with its customary mixture of indignation and tea. Posters urging calm have appeared across Inverness bearing the reassuring slogan “Remain Alert, But Not Undignified.” Shopkeepers report brisk sales of binoculars and Union flags, while the Royal Mail has issued a commemorative stamp depicting a resolute pigeon overflying the Marelian border with the caption “Steady Now.”
Citizens interviewed by the Times-Observer expressed measured confidence. “We’ve been insulted before,” said Mrs. Gertrude Lamm, proprietor of a millinery on North Quay. “But this time, if they so much as wrinkle my bunting, I shall enlist myself.” Retired Colonel Archibald Fenmere agreed, noting, “The Marelians are good at marching, less so at thinking. I’ve seen their uniforms—too many buttons, not enough trousers.”
Diplomatic Overtures, of a Sort
Meanwhile, the Eyehasseen Ambassador to Marelia, Sir Percival Trout, continues his tireless work of smiling frostily at banquets. Last week’s attempt to organise a peace luncheon reportedly ended in misunderstanding when the Marelian Foreign Secretary interpreted the traditional Eyehasseen toast—“May reason prevail”—as a threat.
Back in Inverness, the Royal Council on International Decorum met in emergency session and emerged four hours later to announce that “stern language has been drafted, translated, and underlined.” The communiqué was delivered to Marelia by courier pigeon wearing a miniature helmet. As of press time, the pigeon has not returned.
The Whisper of War
Though government spokesmen continue to describe the situation as “contained,” railway schedules northward are filling rapidly, and the Royal Foundries have been placed on double shifts “for maintenance purposes.” Several eyewitnesses report seeing naval reservists drilling near the coast with slingshots, suggesting either ingenuity or shortage.
Privately, senior military sources acknowledge that “skirmishes of etiquette” have already occurred. One Eyehasseen observation balloon was reportedly fired upon by Marelian ground forces using a cannon that promptly exploded. The incident has been classified as “encouraging.”
A Nation Holding Its Breath
For now, Eyehasseen remains outwardly calm. The King has issued no statement beyond his customary blessing at evening prayer: “Steadfast hearts, steady hands.” The public, for its part, continues to go about its business—shopping, gardening, and quietly rehearsing patriotic songs in minor keys.
Yet beneath the civility lies a thrum of expectation. Everyone senses that the polite insults and semaphore warnings cannot continue indefinitely. Whether the coming days bring peace or “an adjustment of boundaries by other means,” the Kingdom appears united in one conviction: whatever happens, we shall conduct it with style.
As one anonymous dockworker put it while polishing his sling:
“If there’s to be trouble, best to start it tidy.”