Sew Far, Sew Good!

A new, more informed and ruthless military competence seems to have taken hold in the Vulgarian approach to siege operations. (Below) The Vulgarian saps look less like the diggings of a band of drunk moles going through their impressionist phase, and more like the result of the studied application of military theory. The saps develop swiftly, and promise soon that a second parallel might be put in place.

Looking at the advancing saps, the Vulgarian Chief Engineer de Goudenlid sighs with relief and blows gingerly on the backs of his hands: it looks not entirely impossible that they have been rapped painfully by some kind of wooden instrument: a large wooden ruler, possibly.

The defending Bachscuttlers as yet hold off on their artillery fire. This is probably a mistake, given that one of the functions of fortress cannons is widely considered to be firing at the attackers. But still, it does save on gunpowder. Instead, the Governor tries an alternative tack. He calls upon one of his spies: in this case, Sister Molestus, a choice taken on the solid basis that she, unlike Don Pajero de Penguino, hasn't yet been locked up in the town's prison for indecent behaviour towards geese. 

Molestus quickly makes it through the Vulgarian sentries. Her religious garb, and the firm promise that she is not bringing with her a wooden horse, wooden rabbit, or any similar means of tricking the attacking forces, soon gives her access to the Vulgarian lines. (Above) She has determined that she will encourage some of the enemy troops to desert. She picks a unit of grenadiers and approaches. She is, at it turns out, a mediocre spy: but then, international espionage was only an elective course at the nunnery, and she chose instead to do needlecraft.

'Good evening, my fine fellows!' says Molestus to the grenadiers. 'God be with you!'

'I don't think he is', replies a soldier morosely. 'We are quite miserable, what with the dysentry that we are suffering from and the terrible holes in our pantaloons. If only we knew someone who could repair them, thus allowing us to desert and sprint from this battlefield'.

'Repair your trousers?'

'Why yes, sister: a quick bit of needlework would solve the problem. But probably, as a nun, you took the course on international espionage instead - if only you had the skills to sew up our pantallons, we'd soon take the opportunity to flee the field'.

Molustus considers this. 'Hmm, well: Our dear Lord really does work in mysterious ways. Get me a needle! You'd better get thready for action, gentlemen, because I'm going to make a last stitch effort sew that you can quit the fight!'

The Vulgarians look at her blankly.

'Never mind!' says the Sister with a sigh. 'Just get me what I need'.

Inconceivably, then, Sister Molustus' mission is a success! Thanking God, for his mercy and the application of some sound stitching, a company of the grenadier battalion runs off into the night! Despite the competence of the siege operations, it's first blood to the Bachscuttlers!