Ehrwig, the First!

Wherein the army of Fenwick-Gederland under Marshal Ignacio Grace-a-Dieu Cavandish encounters the forces of the Landgravate of Hesse-Rotenburg-Schillingsfurst, commanded by Furst Augustus Saxe-Peste..

The Bishopric of Schrote has never been very inspiring: except, one might surmise, if that inspiration was focused on ways in which one might leave. The bright sunlight that shines down upon this small slice of Mittelheim might improve local visibility, but this merely serves to reinforce how disappointing a place it is, and also, given the heat, to make it smell a bit more. The woodcut below, dear reader, shows the environs of the village of Ehrwig, one of the better, and by that one would just mean smaller, collections of domiciles in the bishopric.

What certainly wouldn't improve the ambiance of this place would be the arrival of a Mittelheim army - but, alas for local house prices, one does indeed slowly appear. Long lines of troops approach Ehrwig from the north. Slithering down the nearby road, the force then uncoils itself like an arthritic slow worm whose wife has left to spend a few days with her mother and who has been left no urgent errands to perform. By the red hues of their uniforms, this must surely by the army of the Landgravate of Hesse-Rotenburg-Schillingsfurst.

The army is in poor condition. Having advanced four miles into enemy territory, the landgravate's forces are already well beyond the limits of their logistical support, what with the pie-houses limiting their delivery radius to two miles. Still, a restful nights sleep might restore the troop's morale. Slowly, tents are pitched, fires are started, those fires  started in the possessions of local villagers are then put out, rations are cooked, and soft toys are prepared for the night's slumber. Furst Augustus Saxe-Peste, the army's commander, retires to his tent.

Alas, however, there is to be no rest! 

'Sir! Sir!' cries a figure, interrupting the Furst's repose.

'Wankrat?' groans Augustus.

 The figure pauses, unsure if this an enquiry or an imperative.

'Wankrat? Is that you?' repeats the Furst.

'Indeed sir!' says Captain Sebastian Wankrat, Saxe-Peste's aide. 'Sir, the enemy is upon us! The army of Fenwick even now approaches!'

Alarm! Alarm! Saxe-Peste issues a flurry of orders, and his army droops out its encampment like Landgrave Choldwig after a loincloth malfunction.

(Above) The Furst quickly deploys his troops. It is not a pretty sight: his army could be described as 'polished' only in the sense that they rub themselves a lot. The general now considers his options. The more attractive ones, such as attempting to flee the country dressed as a pantomime horse, are sadly not available - not, at least, until the horse costume has been cleaned. So, a battle would seem to be imminent. 

(Above) On the basis that an army should probably have a centre, Saxe-Peste deploys  the bulk of his infantry in it, including a regiment in Ehrwig itself. His musketeers are deployed in line. Quite a wiggly line, it has to be said, but at least they are probably facing in the right direction. His two batteries  of artillery are dug in, and, for ornamentation, are used to garnish the infantry line.

(Above) On the Rotenburg right wing, the general deploys three of his four cavalry units. Two regiments are deployed perpendicular to the main battle line. It is probable that these have been placed so that they have the option to commence a wide flanking movement around the nearby field. It is is equally probable, of course, that they just think that they are facing forwards.

(Above) On Saxe-Peste's left, the flank is refused - as are all offers to to volunteer for any dangerous missions. Since this flank is covered by a stream, the Furst considers this the least likely avenue of attack.

Through his telescope, Saxe-Peste watches the army of Fenwick-Gelderland as it begins to deploy for the coming battle. What do the Spartans of Mittelheim have in store for their adversaries ... ?