Raiders of the Lost Mark

I really should occupy myself with feline pursuits like mouse and bird catching - rather than the shallow idiocies of the politics in this lovely Kingdom of Northumbria; I really don't know what it was in my constitution that gave me such a morbid fascination with the venal and sordid affairs of humans (if that's what politicos are), but I am where I am, and so I just have to content myself with my appointed lot.

Dagwald Caedmeron - the Rising Yeast and Sacred Archbishop of the Tree/Liberationist Alliance has been very busy of late. Having returned from his astonishingly successful visit to the distant and as yet undiscovered land of Ultima Thule, where he cavorted and consorted with the oratorically gifted tribal chieftain Bugrake O'Barmy and consumed buffalo burgers at Ultima Thule football games, he's been dreaming up new and inventive ways of obtaining those scarce Holy Groats that his Administration desperately needs to realise their magic mushroom-fuelled political fantasies. SInce the Great Credit Catastrophe of three thousand years ago, the Kingdom has been plunged into the dark pit of insolvency and bankruptcy, necessitating those Savage Public Expenditure Cuts which have been so beloved of the Trade Guild Barons, diversity administrators, pigeon psychiatrists and kindergarten managers - not to mention the soothsayers Beeby See and her bitter and twisted sister Guardy-Ann. Consequently, the Northumbrian Army now has the latest technology in pitchforks as its staple weapons, as the beautifully crafted swords have been sold to the quarrelsome tribes of the Levant; the Navy now uses coracles from the Welsh Marches, as most of its longships have been buried in funeral mounds in a bid to confuse and excite future archaeologists, since they're not wanted by King Jose Borracho, the toxic despot of the Holy Roman Empire (which is neither holy, Roman nor an empire). It's all so terribly sad.

But never mind. Fresh beams of Enlightenment and Wisdom cut through our darkness as we hear that Caddy Boy's latest plan is to find reserves of hidden treasure. He's going to raid the piggy banks of the children of Northumbria. The children's screams and wailings are already resounding through the Kingdom, and their parents are unable to console them, since any further contributions will be taxed. Viciously. Hooray for Caddy Boy - saviour of the day!

What can he purchase with all the stolen pennies he's rescued from obscurity? There's not enough resources in the piggybanks of the Realm to keep a single Fluffy Diversity Coordinator's body and soul together. I do hope he has a Plan B...