Beneath the Willy Banners!

'I tell you, it is a splendid idea!' says Lady Flora Spreadswell.

Lady Flora sits upon a chair in the palace of Margrave Kasper Johan von Porckenstauffen, ruler of the Margravate of Badwurst-Wurstburp.

The phrase 'sitting upon a chair' doesn't quite do justice to her situation, given that the seat in question is the throne of King Wilhelm Penwick-Fuppet, one-time King of Gelderland and ally of the Empire of All the Fenwicks but now a deposed enemy, since it is somewhat unconventional in its configuration.

Before her stand General Antonin Unpronunski, commander of the margravial army, and Lord Duncan de Sordelay, one of the chief representatives of the Jacobite emigres that reside in Wurstburp. 

'Lady Flora', says Unpronunski imploringly, 'you must not commit our army to combat!'

Lady Flora frowns. 'But why not? They love a fight!'
'Indeed, indeed', replies the general. 'The Scots are famously bellicose! They do love a fight! But not a fair fight. They like to fight one another; or small Englishmen; or very small Irishmen. But a firm enemy firing line is something of which they have a distinctive horror!'
'Worse than soap', admits Lord Duncan.

Lady Flora drums her fingers impatiently and then snorts. 'But it's an army! Shouldn't it be used? How else can we advance the interests of King Wilhelm, and return him to the throne! His troops must go forth, carrying his banners across Mittelheim!'

'Couldn't they do it later?' asks the general.

'Much, much later' adds Lord Duncan

Little has gone right for the Margravate since they received the terrible news that King Wilhelm is still alive. In theory, there should be nothing that the ex-Jacobite settlers of Wurstburp like more than pointless repeated defeats at the hands of brutal enemies, in the name of a distant, and poorly dressed, pretender to a throne. But even die-hard veterans of the '15 and '45 seem to have got a bit tired of being bayoneted in their soft parts, their morale worn down by their service to a monarch whose chief distinction is that he was once very fat but is now just fat and a lot flatter, and as part of an army where logistical support is just a question of how many thistles get put into one's porridge.

Lady Flora shifts herself on the chair. Wilhelm's throne is in one of the less salubrious wings of the palace, the better to keep his court-in-exile out of sight of the margrave. Worryingly for the general and Lord Duncan, Lady Flora has taken to ascending the throne whenever the Pretender Wilhelm is not present. This means she spends quite a lot of her time on the throne, since Wilhelm has taken to dividing his time between his bed and visits to a bakery, although the phrase 'dividing his time' probably implies rather a stricter distinction in theory than in practice, given that his bed is in the bakery.

She then stands. 'Our army must march! Now is the time! I feel victory in our grasp!'

The general and Lord Duncan make eye contact meaningfully: there is really no need to say any words, since the look says it all: 'Poor naive fool! Ignorant of the reality of Mittelheim warfare! And also of strategic realities! And also of logistics, what with the porridge and thistles! And also, we've been making eye contact for an uncomfortably long time.'

Unpronunski sighs. 'Lady Flora, I shall approach the margrave and let him know that King Wilhelm wishes the army to march'.