With their flanks under threat, the Wurstburp cavalry have the choice of charging hell for leather (or perhaps, given that it's the Zentans, 'smell' for leather) into the enemy, or of 'tactically re-adjusting'; a manoeuvre that, in Zenta, usually involves scratching one's crotch, but which in civilised armies involves a minor retrograde movement: nothing too dramatic though; nothing, certainly, that could be construed as indicating hesitancy or a lack of martial ardour.
The Wurstburp cavalry are commanded by Unpronunski to position themselves on Little Groeninghumpe; an order that could never be issued, ever, to Fenwickians.
(Above) The Wurstburp cavalry fall back into their new position, covering their own flanks and those of their infantry. (Below) Keen to maintain the pressure on Unpronunski's right, the Zentan irregular cavalry gingerly follow up. Nothing too dramatic, mind: they move just close enough to their adversaries that their smell will continue to unsettle the enemy horses.
Unpronunski recognises that he cannot afford any longer to dance to the Zentan tune. On a matter of general principle, dancing to Zentan tunes is a bad idea, give that listening to Zentan folk music is like having a cucumber stuffed into one ear, whilst the other is intimately assaulted by a yodelling octopus. But there are specific reasons why the general decides that now is the time to energise the fight on the Wurstburp right wing. (Below) On this flank, the Zentan infantry continue to take pot-shots at their adversaries, trying to whittle them down.
After a while, even with the usual lamentable Zentan accuracy, the Wurstburp casualties begin to mount. With his cavalry under threat and his infantry even more impotent than usual, Unpronunski decides that only vigorous action will allow him to seize the initiative from his enemy. The general gives the order to advance! Drums beat! Pipes wheeze! With a loud 'hurrah!', legs pounding and sporrans akimbo, the Wursburp highlanders charge!
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