Merkenwig, the Fifth!

With his infantry in disarray and his flanks under threat, Pronounski orders his infantry to retire beyond enemy musket range hoping, no doubt, to restore some order to them before recommencing the attack. That sound that you can hear is probably the sound of the Wurstburp initiative flouncing noisily out of the room in a huff.

(Above) The infantry lines of the respective armies are now out of the range of small arms: although some of the longer arms on the more monkey-like of the Wurstburp troops could probably reach out and grasp their opponents - those that have opposable thumbs, that is. 

(Below) Though regular combat may not be on the menu now, there remains for those troops that wish to vex their adversaries a choice from a long list of activities that encompass such tried and tested Mittleheim military tactics as taunts, jests, thumb-nosing, ear-waggling, aspersions upon the possession of fathers, suggestions as to the nocturnal proclivities of mothers, ditties implying non-church-sanctioned relationships with various farmyard animals, songs surrounding the surprisingly close relationships between the latter and immediate family members, and various colourful versions of songs concerned with milkmaids or other female agricultural workers that hail from such places as Venus or China.   

Grand Duchess Catherine seems really to be getting the hang of this generalship thing. For the most part, it seems only to require that one makes rational choices and avoids falling asleep. Deciding that following up the retreating Wurstburpers would weaken the strength of her position, she instead orders her regular cavalry to continue their menacing canter and close the distance with the Wurstburp infantry.

(Below) There's nothing that Mittleheim cavalry like more than an exposed enemy flank: unless, that is, the exposed flank also comes with an all-you-can-eat sausage buffet. No sausages on this flank, sadly, but quite a few turnips instead. The Wurstburp infantry look nervously to their left wondering what this is all about. Are these horsemen enemy horsemen? Or are they friendly forces? If they were the latter, of course, then they would be facing in the wrong direction. However, facing in the wrong direction is not, in itself, compelling evidence that they are not Wurstburp cavalry.

 'I think that things are going splendidly for us!' says Horace de Saxe enthusiastically. Pronounski groans: Horace's enthusiastic approval is surely the clearest sign yet of the dangerous precipice of disaster that looms in front of the Margravial forces.