Professional Siege Education!

(Below) The Vulgarian encampment is a sprawling agglomeration of military flotsam and jetsam; and that, of course, just describes the troops. The disorder resembles the sort of a situation that would apply if the siege were, metaphorically, a flat-pack wardrobe with no instructions and a suspicious lack of fixings: if, that is, the wardrobe also smelled very bad, and was in the process of being built by a large group of benobo monkeys with hangovers and no access to an allen key.

Into this chaos a new and tranformative element is about to be introduced. (Below, right) General Hertz van Rentall, the Vulgarian commander is in the middle of trying to induce some order into his troops. This involves applying some inspiring types of performative execution, accompanied by the distribution of Dutch short-cake biscuits. So, it's something of mixed morning for many of his men. The general is interrupted by the arrival of a coach. Who could be on board this conveyance?

'Ranald Drumpf!' wails Rentall. 'Itsh dat tiny-handed, crazshy-coiffured, orange-exteriored ignoramus!'

Rentall, it is fair to say, is not Ranald Drumpf's greatest supporter. Amongst other things, Drumpf's previous arrival on a Mittleheim battlefield was not accompanied by a great deal of military success for the Vulgarian forces. Happily for the general, however, the new arrival is not Drumpf at all!

Why, it is Lady Timsbury of Somerton, arriving post-haste from Fenwick where she has introduced the Empire to the benefits of Professional Military Education! General van Tentall is most relieved!

'Madame, dish ish unexshpected. Da meshages I reshieved indicated that you vould be arrivink nexsht week!'

'General, when they told me that you were engaged in an expedition against the Platinate of Saukopf-Bachscuttel, I knew that I had to get here as quickly as possible! I knew straight away that your military success here would depend upon the extent to which you could leverage the power of postgraduate post-nominals'.

Rentall shrugs. 'Perhapsh, yesh', he says politely. 'But also I could fire some cannon'. 'Madame', he continues, making conversation, 'I can I tell from your acshent dat you are not from Mittelheim?'

Lady Timsbury curtsies. 'It is so, general - I am from England'.

'Oh, England', nods Rentall with interest. 'Which part?'

Lady Timsbury considers this. 'Well, all of me really'.

Schwettinbad!

The town of Schwettingbad: a town that looks quite a lot like all of the other towns that have been invested by Vulgarian sieges. Thanks to the Vulgarian invasion, the local citizens have been subject to the barbaric oppression meted out by the ill-discipled, savage forces of occupation: in this case, the Bachscuttel garrison. 

There are few words in the German lanuage fit to describe the qualities of a Bachscuttel garrison regiment: a regiment composed of men (if 'men' is the right word to describe primates that no self-respecting chimpanzee would trust to run a tea party) not sufficiently competent to fill the ranks of the regulars. The standard set by the phrase 'not good enough to be a Bachscuttel regular' is sufficiently low that the Palatinate's military regulations find it necessary to state specifically that no garrison or invalid musketeer company should be allowed to contain squirrels or badgers - unless, that is, the latter are at least four feet tall. Sadly for the defensive strength of Bachscuttel strongholds, the restriction on recruiting squirrels and badgers does not specifically exclude a range of other woodland or domestic animals. Nor, to be honest, is the restriction on squirrels applied rigorously if they can demonstrate that they have large enough nuts.

(Above) The military governor of the town, Baron Friederich von Zwöllenglantz, has taken position in one of the bastions. From here he can best survey the developing field of battle. Next to him stand his two spies: Sister Molestus, and the Spanish rake and late confidant of King Wilhelm, Don Penguino de Pajero. What has led the former from her life of religious contemplation is difficult to say: perhaps she has tired of the hessian underwear, or weary of having fellow sisters trying to fiddle with her wimple. Don Pajero's presence is more explicable: sending him to a town that is about to be besieged is a pretty good way of preventing him from going elsewhere and being a nuisance.

Overall, the defenders comprise of four garrison regiments; four batteries of fortress guns; two heavy batteries; and one battery of light guns. Two companies of sappers ae also present, along with a company of miners. The dangers associated with having Don Pajero in the vicinty of any sort of miner probably explain the alacrity with which the troops are willing to dig holes that take them further away from the town, even if this also requires them to do so in close proximity to barrels of gunpowder.

(Above) The governor's best troops are a regiment of grenadiers. They are deployed in the town itself and behind the defences. Some may think that this is so that they can act as a reserve, being out of sight and range of the enemy guns. But it could also be that they are embarrassed to be seen in the vicinity of the other defending regiments.

As Zwöllenglantz considers his position ruefully, he can at least take solace from the fact that, on the evidence so far, the Vulgarians contribute to skillfully conducted siege operations in the same way that honey badgers constitute a safe and reliable form of child care ...

Weighty Matters!

'My lord', says chamberlain Leopold von Fecklenburg, bowing. 'You called?'
'I did, I did', replies Prince Rupprecht of Saukopf-Bachscuttel briskly. 'I am siezed by weighty matters, lord chamberlain; weighty matters of state'.

The prince sits in one of his attic rooms. It looks like just the sort of attic that many in Mittelheim firmly believe that Rupprecht should be locked up in and never let out of. Nearby, there stands a large easel with what appears to be a painting upon it.

Fecklenburg's eyes narrow suspiciously. 'You have been ruminating on matters of state, sire?' says Fecklenburg, 'actual matters of state, my lord: or by "weighty matters of state" do you actually mean "the state of your weight". Because that's what it was the last time, sire'.

'Yes', admits the Prince. 'It was wasn't it'.

'And also the time before that, my lord'.

Rupprecht considers this. He seems about to say "no, it wasn't" but then is forced to say something like "Yes, I suppose it was".

'Yes, I suppose it was', he says. 'But this time, by "weighty matters of state", I mean issues relating to the besieging of one of my towns'.

The chamberlain nods. 'Then, my lord, in your new found state of princely application, let us talk of strategy!'

Rupprect nods excitedly. 'Yes, but before that, I've got something to show you'.

'It's not that clock again is it, my lord?'

'No, no, Fecklenburg! It's this!' Rupprecht gestures towards the painting.

Fecklenburg raises an eyebrow. 'It seems like a painting, my lord'.

'Exactly! Exactly!' says the prince. 'A painting! Of a seige! And do you know why it's here, Fecklenburg?'

Fecklenburg considers this. 'My lord, experience tells me that the list of possibilities is probably quite long. It's not ...' the chamberlain gestures '... related to your lunch is it?'

'Bah! No, Fecklenburg!' This is a gift from the noted Nabstrian scientist Faltaire!'

'That's not necessarily a good thing, sire. Wasn't Faltaire the inventor of homeopathic gunpowder? And the horseless carriage that was ...'

' ... just a carriage without a horse - I know Fecklenburg. But I tell you - this is brilliant! Using this picture we shall be able to follow the siege of ...'

'Schwettinbad, my lord: the town now besieged by the Vulgarians is Schwettinbad'.

'Yes, Schwettinbad. Behold, we have here a picture of the town and with it, we can follow in real time the progress of the siege!'

'But this is an image painted on canvas, my lord. Such items tend towards a static display of the subject-matter - not least because they are images painted upon a piece of canvas'.

'Oh ho!' cries the prince gleefully. 'Now what do you think about this then!' The Prince hops forward; then there is a short period of hammering. 'Behold!' cries the prince finally as he sits back down.

Fecklenburg looks at the image.

'See!' chortles Rupprecht. 'It's like the siege is happening right in front of us! It's an image of the siege that we can generate artificially! Faltaire calls it "Siegey Eye"'.

'Siegey Eye, sire?' says the chamberlain wearily.

'Oh yes! And when we're done with the siege, I have a few more uses for this new technology that involve some of my very artistic paintings of actresses'.

'I would expect nothing less, my lord' sighs Fecklenburg.

The prince then claps his hands. 'And now, for the second great weighty issue of state: what should I have for lunch?'

Fecklenburg shrugs listlessly. 'Well, what about the chicken?' he replies.

Rupprecht frowns. 'Hmmm, I should think she'll have bird seed like she usually does'.
After a short period of time to allow the comedy tumbleweed to drift by, our attention shifts dear reader, to events at the town of Schwettinbad, where matters of Vulgarian military aggression are at this very moment at the forefront of the concerns of the local citizenry ...