Ehrwig, the Third!

The troops of imperial Fenwick begin the battle with a barrage by their artillery (below). Of course, 'beginning the battle' would be too strong a description of such an activity. As the regular reader of this modest publication would already be apprised of,* experience shows that the function of artillery in Mittelheim combats leans more towards the aesthetic than it does to the practical. Very few enemy tend to die from artillery barrages, whose main function is to create smoke and to give employment to those depressingly educated and upwardly mobile members of the lower middle classes who otherwise might agitate for commissions in the infantry or cavalry.

But this time there is indeed method to this apparent madness. Whilst Marshal Cavandish does not, of course, have the benefit, as the Nabstrians do, of all of the military creativity brought by participation in miniature games of war, he is now fully inculcated into the mysteries of professional military education. One clear lesson from his earnest study of military theory (thirty credits), are the benefits of doing nothing for a while and seeing what crops up. Cavandish fires his artillery and waits to see if any especially useful stratagems come into his hands.

(Above) Across the field, Furst Augustus Saxe-Peste senses a trap. No sane military commander expects any useful results from an artillery barrage, and so he suspects some clever ruse on the part of his adversary.  Not wishing to look stupid, therefore, he fires back. This creates that part of  a Mittelheim battle most beloved of pacifists: an artillery duel. Predictably, there are no casualties, since the chances of a fatal wound in such an exchange hover somewhere in the same bracket as being stabbed by a chocolate eclair.  

This unmanly hand-bagging continues, until Cavandish, by the gleam in his eye, seems finally to obtain the stratagems that he thinks necessary. After a period of time, and the blunting, metaphorically, of several dangerous looking eclairs, the imperial infantry begin their advance! (below).  

(Above) The entire mass of the Fenwickian foot, largely accompanied by their bodies, marches resolutely forwards. Such is the mastery of shrubbery and small woodland animals shown by Sir Thomas Burgess that the right of the imperial infantry pass in perfect order through the woods to their front. 

From Cavandish's position, it is clear that there is something  of a difference in the quality of formations between the infantry of both sides. The imperial troops advance in linear fashion with a rigidity seldom seen outside of Landgrave Choldwig's loin cloth after a visit to the famous evening trampolining emporium "Frau Baum's Boudoir of Buxom Bouncing". Alas, the Rotenburg infantry are deployed according to no established doctrine (above); unless that doctrine contained words such as 'bendy', or 'wiggly'.

The Marshal is unperturbed, however. He senses that soon fate might strike the imperials with some unwelcome complications. (Below) And so it does!

(Above) A bout of confusion strikes one of the Fenwickian regiments. Interpreting the order to go forwards as one to go backwards, they retire immediately into the nearby woods. In doing so, they also disorder themselves, as well as causing Marshal Cavandish to utter some very naughty words.

The main dynamics of this battle are already revealing themselves. The Fenwickians have directed all of their infantry against only a portion of the Rotenberg line. But whether this will become an effective imperial concentration of force or an efficient Rotenburg economy of effort remains to be seen ...

* Unless, of course, he is on holiday: in which case, if he is reading this, welcome back.