Bogorovsk, the Final!

And so, dear reader,we reach the final crescendo; nay, climax; nay denouement; nay, horse, in the struggle for control of the Kurlandian town of Bogorovsk! It has been a rollercoaster ride, thus far: a crap rollercoaster, of course, with squeaky wheels, low speed, and a small child in the car behind vomiting loudly into the footwell.

(Above) As with the other side of the siege, the Nabstrians here have made good progress with their saps and artillery positions. Three such positions, one newly placed, are on the glacis and ready to commence breaching fire upon the bastion to their front. Luckily for the Kurlandian defenders, only one artillery battery has been brought up by the Nabstrians.

(Above) The attacking and defending guns exchange fire, to no great effect. But it is now that Retchin launches upon this flank, his great military innovation: a sortie. That sorties have not been a feature of previous Mittleheim siege encounters has many explanations: a lack of imagination, perhaps; a lack of aggression; and also, a lack of rules. But Retchin is a commander of a new stamp: aggressive, and, having not seen the new rules, entirely ignorant of any of the problems of such an enterprise. A man who knows no fear about attacking because he genuinely knows nothing about how one goes about doing it. He launches two sorties: one against the enemy battery, and the other against the pesky enemy sappers!

(Above) The Kurlandian infantry rises from the covered way! The Nabstrian battery fires at close range with grape. Alas, it would appear that it's the fruit and not the artillery munitions, because the attacking regiment suffers no great damage and swarms over the emplacement, bayoneting the gunners and, in the Kurlandian style, once they find the holes, ravishing the Nabstrian artillery pieces.

The Kurlandian invalid battalion assaults the Nabsiran sappers. Or at least, one might label it a charge in the same way that one could declare a cat to be a lion: it's about the right sort of species, even if the details are rather different, especially if one were to try and put one's head in its mouth. The charge involves more squeaking than one might expect, the noise coming from bath chairs, and also the wooden pounding of false legs rarely heard outside of a pirate reunion. (Above) Knackered old has-beens though the attacking infantry might be, their drooling horde overcomes the defending Nabstrians, who are wiped out!

(Above) Embarrassment alone might at this stage have signalled a Nabstrian withdrawal, but the rout of the sappers breaks the morale of von Rumpfler's army. The defending Kurlandians have won! General Rumpfler writes dispatches home claiming a successful diversionary action against the Kurlandians. He claims to have suffered low losses, which isn't entirely wrong given how short many of his troops are. General Retchin declares a glorious victory, the largest for the Duchy in living memory: although, given how much the Kurlandians drink, 'living memory' is basically around four hours. Retchin further adds to Kurlandian military doctrine by declaring the utility and necessity of defensive sorties, even if he's still not clear exactly what they are.