Virgin on the Offensive!

In Bachscuttel, Prince Rupprecht is holding an audience with His Excellency Reinhardt, the Bishop of Munschrugge, Nabstrian diplomat and messenger from Burgrave Falco.

'And so, my lord prince', finishes the bishop, 'the Zentans fled the field, crushed by the genius of General von Rumpfler. Almost their entire army was annihilated. Except all those that survived, of course', he adds.

'Hurrah!' cries Rupprecht.

'Therefore, the Zentans have been neutralised for the time being. They will be too busy licking their wounds' concludes Munschrugge.

'That doesn't sound very hygienic', replies the prince.

'I suppose it's better than licking other people's wounds', proposes Chamberlain Fecklenburg.
Munschrugge gesticulates. 'But my lord, this leads us to the real purpose of my visit: to coordinate our combined strategy for the remainder of this conflict! We must have a policy; an operational campaign plan! Fully developed branches and sequels! What are your thoughts on this, my lord?'

Rupprecht goggles. This strategy-related conversation, based as it is on scientific principles of professional warfare, is entirely alien to him. His rudimentary capacity for logic is overloaded.
'What is your plan?' demands the Nabstrian ambassador.
Rupprecht's mind cogitates, vibrates, and then expectorates the product of his logical thinking.
'Beep' he says, this word representing his entire thought on the topic of a war plan.
'What?' says the bishop.
'Snurgle' says Rupprecht. And then adds a 'boop, boop' for good measure.
There is an embarrassed silence.

Fecklenburg intervenes. 'What my prince means to say is that our army intends to fall upon the Vulgarian forces currently deploying into Gelderland. Having assessed their critical capabilities and critical vulnerabilities, we shall move directly against their centre of gravity, utilising tempo and manoeuvrism to interrupt their decision-making cycle'.
Rupprecht nods heartily in agreement. He has, of course, no idea what Fecklenburg is talking about. His chancellor's arcane vocabulary sounds like some kind of magical ritual. For Rupprecht, fear of the dreadful spells that are no doubt in the offing is balanced to an extent by the hope that a magic ritual might signify the arrival of a naked virgin'.
Munschrugge frowns. 'Are you sure, sir: because it actually sounded like a 'beep', a 'snurgle' and a 'boop, boop'.
Fecklenburg shrugs. 'Only to the untrained ear, good bishop. And I have a great deal of training'. He sighs. 'Believe me - so much training'.
Munschrugge nods. 'Excellent - well that sounds like a very clever plan'.
'It's a great plan', says Rupprecht. 'Now, about the virgins - do you think I should warm my hands up?'