Meanwhile, In Schrote ....

In the town of Schrote, the emperor's Lieb Grenadiere company has been continuing to search for any clues as to his whereabouts. The commander, Colonel von Kluck und Gluck, and his second-in-command, Major Schlappkopf are in their makeshift headquarters in the town hall, discussing the latest developments.
'He's gone, sir' says Schlappkopf morosely. 'Gone. Disappeared'.
'Gone? What do you mean “gone”?'
'Well, sir, I mean gone as in, well, *gone*, not there, vanished'.
'I know what “gone” *means* dolt! Not there? Vanished? Vanished?'
'Like an old oak t ...'
'Shut up ! Gone HOW? How is the emperor “gone”? Aren’t we here precisely to ensure that things like the emperor being gone doesn’t happen? Being royal bodyguards it’s sort of our raison d’être!'
'Well sir, I’m not really much of one for mixed fruit…'
'Shut up Schlappkopf! Dummkopf! Scheiße kopf! Why aren’t you busy finding him and finding out what happened?'
As the balding figure of the major scurried from the room von Cluck placed his pistol on the table and started contemplating his options.

'Hmm, as my dear old mum would say “Klucky, you’ve dropped a bollock here son and no mistake!'

So, the frenzied search for the emperor continues, and is now extended to include the “intensive” questioning of every available servant and the only slightly less intensive questioning of the clergy, household pets and furniture. The emperor’s quarters are thoroughly checked for trap doors and hidden passageways knowing the clerical fondness for such architectural oddities. The men leave no nook unexamined nor cranny uninspected, even searching in the cathedral and prying behind and beneath the Great Organ of Schrote, or 'the Bishop' as he’s more formally known.

There are also other matters of concern to attend to, not least the smoke to the west that speaks of the activities of Nabstrian assailants. Having already sent a message by carrier pigeon to Baron Hunchmausen asking for support, the colonel puts into place some precautionary measures. An observer is sent to the top of the cathedral spire. He then orders barricades to be placed across approaches and the collection of 'sharp pointy things' with which to make chevaux-de-frise in an effort to prevent or restrict access. Kluck then begins to consider ways in which to funnel any enemy horse into streets or areas where their numbers will be cancelled out by space restrictions and they can be picked off even by the poorer armed citizen militia. He sends a messaeger to find out if there are any caltrops laying around in blacksmith’s smithies, and, if so, to requisition and deploy them. He also orders that the town be scoured for any artillery pieces, even if old and now more or less decorative. If any are found, those that might be reasonably functional are to be cleaned and primed with nails, nuts and bolts and musket balls to create sort of close range giant shotguns. If strategically placed and fired with a long enough fuse in case of catastrophic misfire they may assist in covering important entries into the town. Even if there are old guns that are clearly inoperable can they be cleaned up and placed prominently? They might act as a deterrent as the enemy won’t know they won’t fire.

With only a single company of regulars to defend the town, the colonel then orders all of the able-bodied folk to rally to the defence of the bishopric. Gathering the locals together, he gives a stirring speech, the impact of which is reinforced by his use of classical allusion and a pair of pistols.

“People of Schrote!

We face today a great test as the nefarious Nabstrian ne’er-do-wells and their lickspittle lackeys threaten death and ruin to this fair land. But we remain undaunted knowing that our cause is a just one and that a relief force is just a matter of hours away. We must gird our loins and resist the foul Nabstrians who seek to grab your dear Schrote, and subject every man, woman and child to an ignominious Bachscuttelling. Stand firm! Stand proud! Thrust at the foe! And thrust again!

Rally to defend your freedom!"

The colonel is able to organise two weak companies of militia, as well as some of the more formidable, or just deaf, womenfolk. Each of the companies is given a grenadier NCO to stiffen their resolve and to try to make sure that they don’t fire until the enemy get within very close range.

On the steps of the cathedral, Bishop Baldwin is in earnest conversation with his two subordinates, Friar Knowledge and Friar Conviction. Things aren't going well, and the bishop is oppressed by a dark feeling of threeboding: not quite as bad as foreboding, but bad enough to be significantly worrying.

'Friar Conviction', says the bishop, 'you must leave the town and head west'.

'For America?' asks the friar hopefully.

'No', says the bishop. 'Not America - you must instead make contact with the Nabstrians and tell them that we have as yet no further news on the whereabouts of the emperor'.

'And if they ask me why we haven't got any news of the emperor's whereabouts?'

'Then lie'.

The friar looks shocked.

'Lying is a mortal sin, your Holiness!'

Baldwin nods. 'So, probably, is beating a friar to death with this bishoply staff - but I'm willing to take the risk - so you should to'.

With a quick bow, the friar scampers off.

There is a moment of awkward silence, which Friar Knowledge then tries to fill with a hopeful 'Who knows, your Holiness: with God's help, it may all turn out well'. As soon as he says this, the sound of musket fire begins to ring out on the edge of town.

'Of course', says the bishop wearily. 'Of. Bloody. Course'.