Some People They Call Me Horrees!

From a position in the first parallel of the siege works, the commander of the attacking force, Brevet Brigadier General Ernst Leopold von Rheinfunkt, surveys the progress thus far. In general, (or rather, brevet general), he is not displeased with the situation. The Nabstro-Gelderland army is continuing to develop the third parallel of trenches; he has ordered a second attempt to mine the enemy walls; and there is, as yet, no immediate rumour of the arrival of a Fenwickian relief army. 

Rheinfunkt removes his hat and carefully mops his brow. This involves him wiping a point slightly to the right of his ear. The general, in an earlier battle of the Wars of the Gelderland Succession, was in receipt of a terrible head wound from enemy musket fire. This wound has given those features above his neck a rather more random relationship to one another than is usual. It also carried away a fair helping of those parts of his mind concerned with self-doubt, rational calculus, and the dislike of vegetables.

As the general watches another volley from a nearby artillery position, the cannonballs reassuringly sailing towards the enemy fortress, there comes from behind him a loud, though polite, cough. Rheinfunkt looks behind him; an action that requires rather less in the way of the turning of his head than is usual for most.

'Sir', says a staff officer, bowing. 'You have a visitor from Nabstrian headquarters. It is none other, sir, than the famed military commentator Horace de ...'

'What! What!' interrupts Rheinfunkt, looking alarmed. 'No! No! Tell him I'm indisposed! Tell him I'm dead! Tell him I'm indisposed because I'm dead! Tell him ...'

'Well, hello, my good sir!' says an approaching voice.

Rheinfunkt sighs. Attempting to make the best of things, he tries to hide his disappointment and, for political reasons, put on his face an expression somewhat happier than he feels. This produces an arrangement of his features that, to a stranger, would look like those of someone who, after finding that he has been hit by a cannonball, also discovers that his wife has attached to it a request for divorce.
'De Saxe!' says the general. 'Words can't describe how I feel to see you!' This isn't quite true: there are certain arrangements of the words "carriage" "shove your" and "up your arse" that might communicate well enough Rheinfunkt's feelings. But, in a coalition operation, one must put petty dislikes to one side and grease the wheels of inter-allied diplomacy.

In Horace de Saxe's case, some literal greasing of the wheels might be in order, given the poor state of his wicker carriage. Brother of the more famous Maurice, Horace has inherited some fraternal features - four limbs. for example, and a nose with the regular number of holes in it - but none of the ones that would be really useful for a soldier; like courage, intellect, or a willingness to buy a round. Horace's reputation as a military theorist is built upon his slim volume Mes Gueules de Bois ('My Hangovers'), a tome with the same relationship to insightful military philosophy as a ham sandwich might have to Leonardo da Vinci's homework.
'Well this is splendid!' says de Saxe, cheerfully. 'A proper siege - how exciting!'
'You haven't touched anything have you?' says Rheinfunkt suspiciously.
De Saxe looks hurt. 'I have my trousers on!' he replies huffily.
'No', replies the general. 'I mean here - at my siege. You haven't fiddled with anything; or moved anything around; or loosened something'.
'I have touched nothing' replies de Saxe. 'I have simply been dispensing some of my wisdom'.
'Wisdom?' says Rheinfunkt, looking worried. 'Dispensing?'
'Indeed, sir. I have been conversing with your miners'.

'You have been advising my engineers on mining operations?' asks the general suspiciously. 'Are you an expert on such activities?'
'I have some knowledge of the relevant skills' replies de Saxe.
'You mean that you have been trained as an engineer, and have perhaps observed siege mining work in other contexts?'
'I mean that I have done quite a bit of gardening in my time'.
'Well', says the general, trying to make the best of things, 'well, I suppose that both do require a certain quantity of digging'.
'Yes', replies Horace. 'And also there's the bulbs. And the ornamental ponds'.
The brigadier chokes. 'Hold on a second de Saxe: there's something at the back of my mind'.
'Another musket ball, perhaps?' inquires Horace solicitously.
'No, no. I've just remembered that I need to send my Chief Engineer, Colonel Niall Pointe, to inspect the progress of my miners...'
'Excellent!' says de Saxe. 'He can help with the carrots'.