Glashoffel, the Second!

There is the sound of cannon fire as the Wurstburp artillery begins a short preparatory barrage. As an instrument in this great orchestra of battle, their contribution is less bass drum in nature and rather more triangle solo. The casualties are minimal and, as an opening to this encounter, they don't really merit the term 'prelude'; they are more, perhaps, the gentle rustling of coats as the audience sits down.

Neveretheless, for General Unpronunski and Prince Karl, the opening manoeuvres of the Wurstburp army have been, in many respects, extremely successful. (Below) A dense horde of Wurstburp attack columns bears down on the left wing of the Fenwickian army. Thanks to their wide route of attack, they have suffered no artillery losses whatsoever, and they outnumber heavily the imperial troops to their immediate front.

In the Fenwickian headquarters, Marshal Cavandish has sized up the situation and poses to Captain Fabius Nitzwitz, his staff officer, a key question:
'Is it time for bed?' asks the marshal, yawning.
Nitwitz looks alarmed and points to the left. 'My lord, the enemy infantry have commenced their advance! They will soon be upon our wing!'
'Hmmm', replies Cavandish. 'Then it sounds a bit past my bed time. You already know our plan'. He points to his horse, Keith, held by his orderly Captain Felix Baumgartner. 'Keith can mop up any residual concerns'.
'Sir, it is wise to leave Keith in charge?' asks Nitwitz, worriedly.
Cavandish frowns. 'You mean because he's not staff trained?'
'I mean because he's a horse', replies the captain.
Cavandish shrugs. 'I like to think that it gives him a different perspective on things - you know, thinking outside of the box'.
'Outside of the box, sir, but inside of his nose bag' says Nitwitz. 'His main concern seems to be oats, sir, which isn't always of immediate relevance to the complex tactical problems that we often face on the battlefield'.

Cavandish sighs. 'I think, Nitwitz, that you credit me with too much influence on the course of events. War is chaos, Nitwitz; war is Hell: I mean, look at the way it interrupts my sleep. Still, my warm milk isn't here yet, so I suppose I could usefully fill the time with some orders. First, let's wheel our left a bit!' (Above, right) The very left-most musketeers are ordered to refuse their flank. Cavandish is a commander sensitive to the feelings of his troops, and so doesn't generally like using in his written orders such words as 'doomed' and 'useful enemy speed-bump'. However, it's clear that this regiment, along with the accompanying battery of artillery, probably aren't likely to survive for very long. The remaining troops on the left are also wheeled to form a new line. The field creates some awkward difficulties for the defenders; but it might also pose a challenge for the advancing Wurstburp troops.

Second, since the margravial centre is weak, Cavandish orders forwards his right wing infantry. Essentially, the Fenwickian army begins to swing perpendicular to its original position. (Above) As the imperial troops advance upon the Wurstburp cavalry, the cavalry begin to retire.
'Curses!' expectorates General Unpronunski. 'If we keep retiring our cavalry in the face of his infantry then we risk losing the initiative! We will not be able to advance our infantry!'
"Bunnie" Prince Karlie observes the situation and reaches a hard-nosed conclusion. 'General, we must let the cavalry fend for themselves. Indeed, if they must perish, then so be it! Our prime concern is our infantry assault!'
Unpronunski doesn't seem keen. 'But the loss to the morale of our army might be severe!'
Prince Karl waves dismissively. 'If our cavalry are destroyed, then so be it! I like to think of it less as losing our cavalry, and more as opening up within our army increased opportunities for social mobility'.
The general nods sadly. 'So be it! Now, let us then leave our cavalry, and order forwards our infantry for the decisive assault!'