'A sudden startling level of competence by the Bachscuttelers delivers an unexpected and quite remarkable victory!' said no one, ever, in the history of warfare. The attacking grenadiers of course are driven off by the defending Vulgarians. The Bachscuttel sappers, seeing this, drop their shovels and run as well.
To the distinct whiff of coal-dust, beer, and chips and gravy, the Vulgarian miners establish a mine head and begin digging towards the town's defences (below). Having run out of nuns, the defenders can only look on gloomily as barrows of earth are removed and barrels marked "Gunpowder: Do Not Snort" are wheeled in to replace them.
To add to the Bachscuttler's woes, a heavy siege mortar is dragged forwards and placed in the new artillery position (below). There's nothing that Vulgarians like more than handling large barrels, and this one is a whopper. So capacious is the capacity of the muzzle that it is named by the gunners "Wilhelm's Cake-Hole"
As mortar rounds begin pounding the fabric of the town, Governor Zwöllenglantz decides it is time to end the battle before the attackers can breach the walls. His troops are out of morale; and food is running low - the prospect of hunger stalks the town like a stork with a scythe and a poor sense of humour. Only gunpowder remains plentiful: but that is because there is precious little left to fire it from except grenadiers' backsides.
The governor has done everything possible to fight off the attackers: if that is, the concept of 'everything' could be defined as the mindless repetition of trench raids and the working of nuns well beyond their regulation hours, and doing not much else.
Zwöllenglantz asks for the Honours of War. As this is Mittelheim, it takes quite a time to find some of them; but eventually the Bachscuttel garrison is permitted to quit the town unmolested. The troops are allowed to leave with their arms, which is handy because without them it would be difficult to make their hands work.
The town of Schwettinbad has fallen to Vulgaria! General Rentall immediately begins implementing the Vulgarian form of martial law. The main element of this seems to comprise of a violent pogrom against purveyors of garlic, salt, and bedroom window locks. A new and progressive tax system is introduced to discourage sun-bathing and to encourage investment in larger cleavages. A strange explosion of love-bites and lassitude quickly begins to afflict the inhabitants of the town.
News of this defeat will surely not be well-received by Prince Rupprecht!
