Merkenwig, the Final!

Alas, in Mittelheim, the choice of victory or death is so often weighted towards the latter; except in cases where 'run' or 'copiously piddle oneself' is also an option. The Wurstburp clansman crash into their Kurlandian adversaries. They bleat as they beat as they dice and they slice. The results, however,  are terribly disappointing. (Below) They fail to break a single enemy unit and they are thus forced to fall back. 

'The elephants! The elephants!' cries Horace de Saxe in alarm. 'I shall rally the troops in an attempt to prevent a pachyderm panic!'

(Below) Indeed, one of the Wurstburp units disintegrates, the challenge of charging whilst also retreating backwards being too much for it.  The remainder of Pronunski's infantry are left in a bad way: more disorganised and confused even than normal.

With Pronunski trailing behind trying to limit the damage, de Saxe tries to bolster the spirits of his depressed infantrymen.

'Fear not brave soldiers!' cries de Saxe. 'Just pop your hands under my blanket and see what I've got for you'. 

(Above, top left). Grand Duchess Catherine surveys the developments on the battlefield. Generalship is even easier than she had anticipated.

'Dammit Savvinos: if I'd known how straightforward this was all going to be, I'd have ordered Borisov to give my husband a two-handed divorce a lot earlier'.

'A two handed ...? Oh ...' says Savvinos, idly rubbing his neck. 'I see'.

'Because it seems' continues Catherine, 'that battle involves very little danger to me; and I can also piddle how I like'.

'Both important points, ma'am' nods her chef of staff sagely.

The Kurlandians continue with an exchange of musketry. Whilst one of Grand Duchess Catherine's regiments routs, the target, no doubt, of some particularly hurtful language, two more Wurstburp units fall apart (below). The Wurstburp line is now divided into multiple portions. This is always a bad sign and makes it almost impossible now for Pronunski to restore order to his force.

Pronunski surveys the remains of his forces. (Above) His infantry have shot their bolt; the bolt, indeed has been propelled far beyond any useful hope of recovery and lies, no doubt, in a piece of rough ground never to be found again. (Below) His cavalry is also in poor shape, the physical damage inflicted by their defeat at the hands of mere irregulars compounded by the shame; and also, no doubt, the loss of many small but valuable items lifted from their persons by their Cassock adversaries during the melees.

Pronunski didn't get where he is today by idleness - no, it required an altogether more focused lack of perseverance. Not wishing to have more pain inflicted upon his army; not, at least, until he himself can inflict that pain through a post-battle 'hot washup' (which is usually that most horrifying of Wurstburp experiences - a bath), the general offers his enemy the Honours of War. With a measured and stateswoman-like utterance of  'Cowards! Cravens! Suck defeat with both cheeks you tartan-arsed thistle-lickers!', the Grand Duchess accepts.

The Kurlanders win with a Marginal Victory, but benefit from having accepted Honours of War. They have also inflicted Carnage upon the enemy. One Kurlandian regiment has been broken. Both units of conscripts have gained sufficient experience that they now count as Trained. Three Wurstburp regiments have been broken, but, thanks to the special training regime adopted by Pronunski's troops (extensive bar fights in their depots), they will be reconstituted with no loss in their fighting capabilities. One Wurstburp infantry unit is promoted to Elite, as is one cavalry regiment.

However, the consequences of this battle reverberate far and wide; even to such places as the Palatinate of Saukopf-Bachscuttel, where words such as 'reverberate' are seldom used, and only accidentally and in contextually inappropriate ways.