Groeninghumpe, the Final!

Nothing makes a Zentan braver than attacking an enemy's flank when they also outnumber them two to one. (Below) Advancing with an unusual show of swagger and aggression, Bulbous' irregulars hurl themselves into the fray!

(Above, right) On the hill, the FitzInisholl Horse look down upon the developing melee. They pray earnestly for the success of their compatriots; not least because they are, as it would be termed in Zentan military vocabulary, the FitzInisholl's 'meat shield'; or McMeat shield; or, whatever.

(Below) Alas, taken in both front and flank by the Zentans, the Wurstburpers are ridden down, trampled, frisked, rummaged, stroked disconcertingly, and then dispersed. Thanks to the small print in his life insurance, Robert de Casside survives and transfers his command to the FitzInnisholl Horse: the last remaining Wurstburp cavalry regiment. Still, at least they are on a hill.

(Below) Unpronunski decides that being on a hill is for girls. Running out of options, and with his army's morale teetering on the edge, Unpronunski concludes that only aggressive action will suffice. He orders Casside to advance to his front and ride down the enemy. Laughing in the face of death, or at least tittering a little (something that also can't be done in Fenwick), the FitzInnisholl Horse ride down the hill to death or glory. Robert de Casside rides behind them, furiously trying to scribble an addendum to his life insurance.

(Above, right) The reason for Unpronunski's decision is evident: his cavalry are being sniped at by the Zentan infantry. If they remain where they are, they will no doubt simply be whittled away, like little horsey sticks.

(Below) A triumph for Casside! One enemy regiment scarpers, having remembered that they have an urgent appointment to rub some badgers; the other stand there in disorder. Or more disorder.

(Below) Showing the callous disregard for the butchering of innocent lives that makes him such a hit at Zentan parties, Bulbous orders the remains of the defeated Zentan irregulars to attack! It's a tad risky since, if they are defeated and have to withdraw, then they will back into another Zentan unit causing all kinds of unpleasant consequences. But Bulbous is unconcerned with this kind of nit-picking tactical detail. 

What! Unfeasible! General Bulbous stares in incredulity! (Below) By some miracle, the Zentans win the cavalry encounter! Perhaps the Wurstburpers were tired; or asleep; or already dead? Robert de Casside succeeds in passing himself off as a wandering insurance salesman, and manages to evade capture. He heads across the battlefield and takes command of some artillery, which is a less exciting, but also less life-threatening, activity.

For the margravial army, this final loss of troops is too much: as the cavalry rout, the army's morale breaks and the battle is over!

(Below) The Wurstburp right is still in good shape, although the wood to their front has prevented them from exploiting the passivity of their out of command adversaries. Alas, though, the centre has worn away; and the left has disappeared entirely, now consisting only of General Unpronunski and his headquarters, perched on the lower slope of Little Groeninghumpe. Best for the general and his entourage to slip away quietly before the Zentan cavalry find and ravage them in unseemly ways. To the sad skirl of mournful German bagpipes, the remaining elements of the Wurstburp army run from the field.

It is a major victory for Zenta! In addition, they have inflicted carnage upon their adversary, and are able to pursue, adding to the success! Three Zentan irregular cavalry units have been routed; and two irregular infantry units as well. But no one really cares. One of the palace sipahi horsed regiments has watched enough of the rest of their army die that they are elevated to elite status. Wurstburp has lost all three of its cavalry regiments, which is a nice change. Three regiments of ex-Jacobite highlanders have also been lost. Thanks to their training depots (or 'taverns' as they are more widely known) the replacements for these troops will be just as *cough* effective, as their predecessors.

Groeninghumpe, the Ninth!

One the Wurstburp right, the process of attrition continues. (Below) Volley fire routs another unit of Zentan irregulars; but the Djivileks also manage to shoot into rout the unit of ex-Jacobites that are hanging around in front of the woods. There is now quite a gap in the Zentan line. (Below, right) The Albanians are now out of command, and more-or-less useless. So, no change there, then.

On the other side of the battle, Bulbous has been closing in with his irregular cavalry. The Zentan infantry have also been taking pot-shots at the Wurstburp horse. 

General Unpronunski realises that unless he takes some decisive action, his mounted troops will simply be skirmished to death. 'Death by Zentan' is a slow and ignominious way to go. At the general's order, Wustburp trumpets gurgle, and Unpronunski's horsed regiments commit themselves to a do or die attempt to smash the Zentan light troops. 

Now the battle begins to reach what might be called, in anywhere but Fenwick, its climax. (Above) Fitzbadlie's Cavallerie charge the enemy with a loud 'hurrah!' Their attack is helped by the fact that their Zentan adversaries suddenly begin to falter!

(Below)  At the same time, Baggins' Horse charges forwards in an attempt to drive off the enemy infantry. Nothing if not ambitious, the cavalry take on two units of Zentan irregular infantry.

It is a bold and desperate gamble! (Below) In charging forwards, the Wurstburp cavalry are exposing their flanks to other Zentan regiments. Robert de Casside, the notable serving with the Wurstburp army, takes a worried look at the enemy irregulars hovering to his left. A practical man, he joins the Wurstburp cavalry in their charge, but not before updating his life insurance.

(Below) As it turns out, the results are mixed: which is certainly a triumph by Zentan standards, The Fitzbadlie's ride down their opposition, scattering and routing them. But Baggins' Horse, the hairy-footed half-wits, are worsted and rout the field!

Emboldened, General Bulbous decides that it's time to really commit to offensive action. Wurstburp casualties mean that their army morale is now low, and the loss of only a unit or two more might seal a Zentan victory. 'Charge! Charge!' orders the general. With the thunder of hooves and the mewling of riders, the Zentan light cavalry are now committed en masse to the fray! The battle enters its final act! Thank the lord.

Groeninghumpe, the Eighth!

With his Albanians out of command (below, far right), that portion of the Zentan line must descend into inactivity. Instead, Bulbous decides to focus his efforts against the highland regiment just in front of the woods (below, left). 

For this dangerous mission, it's time to test the power of mad-looking millinery. Sending orders to his two units of Djivileks (trainee janissaries), the general commits his bonkers-bonced troops into the attack. One unit is committed to a frontal assault; the other joins in from the flank (below): with only double the numbers, the Zentans are still well short of the numerical superiority necessary for them to develop a sense of courage. But their hats are very tall and yellow, so perhaps that will compensate.

Just because he can, and probably because he likes them even less than the rest of his army, Bulbous throws another of his irregular units into hand to hand combat. Assuming the Borats actually have hands, that is, and not just some sort of primitive prehensile tails (below).

Given the importance of this attack, Imam Fatih is interrupted in his coffee break, and is tasked once again with encouraging the Zentan irregulars. Having run out of tales of Zentan bravery, a collection of folk tales that was never very extensive, the Imam fires up his troops with stories about the excesses of their Wurstburp enemy (below).

Never very sensitive to the feelings of others, although quite keen in the right circumstances to feel others, the Zentans are easily encouraged to believe the worst of their adversaries. It helps that their Wurstburp enemies are strangely garbed, and so it is easy to misrepresent their kilts as some kind of odd cocktail dresses, and to convince the Djivileks that their enemy are not claymore wielding hooligans who might be quite dangerous, but are instead lovely ladies engaged in a relaxing and genteel afternoon of cutlery sharpening.

Bulbous’ attack is fully as effective as one might expect from troops training to be troops that never actually seem to fight. (Below, top) The hand of fate favours the Wurstburpers. The Zentans win, but not by enough to break their adversaries. The Djivileks to the front fall back into the woods.

(Above, bottom) The other unit of trainees must also retire, but as they retreat they encounter other friendly units and must keep heading backwards down a long line of other troops. In the end, theirs is less an exercise in falling back, and more a military rearward half-marathon. Separated from their irregular brethren by the regular sipahi cavalry, it’s clear that Bulbous is unlikely to be in position ever to get them back into command range. 

Bulbous snorts. ‘Fudge!’ he says, or something similar. To maintain the pressure on his enemy, he turns again to his irregular cavalry. But is that wise?

Groeninghumpe, the Seventh!

The Wurstburp troops charge in, four regiments forward. One highland regiment advances to dislodge the Zentan infantry in the woods to their front (below, left); two more units of highlanders and one of regulars also attempt to close with the enemy.

(Above, left) The Zentan unit in the woods declines to evade and stands to make a fight of it. (Above, centre) Two more Zentan units try and evade, but fail and are contacted by some very angry ex-Jacobites. (Above, right) The Wurstburp regulars find that their adversaries have scarpered backwards into the woods behind them. For those that have closed, the fight is violent and bloody ...

(Above, left) Already disordered, the highlanders charge into the woods, taking more disorder; lose the combat, taking more disorder; and then are pushed back, taking more disorder. The unit disintegrates and quits the filed: the Zentan irregulars have won! True, most of the real damage was done by the trees and other flora, but it's a win by Zentan standards. (Above, centre) The next unit of highlanders wins, but does not break their Zentan adversaries and so falls back to reform. (Above, right) In the remaining combat, the highlanders show their comrades how it should be done: in the briefest of fights, the Zentans are sliced and diced by the blade-wielding Wurtsburpers. The irregulars don't so much break, as just slide apart into meaty heaps.

Close combat is much too much like real war for the Zentans. In preparation for another retreat, Imam Fatih is deployed (below). With his tales of wildly implausible Zentan victories in unknown wars at imprecise times in the past, he buoys the morale of the troops, allowing them to rally as they fall back.

The Zentan troops retreat. The Wursburpers follow up. In the centre, they charge against one of the irregular units and, once again, the Zentans fail to evade. After a brief and embarrassing fight, the irregulars are cut to pieces and rout (below, centre). The Zentan line begins to look rather threadbare here.

At this point Bulbous realises that he has made what would be known in a regular European army as 'serious command and control error', but which the Zentans call 'a boo boo'. He has ordered his Albanians (above, right) to fall back just far enough that they are no longer part of the same command group as the rest of his line. With this portion of his line beginning to unravel, Bulbous decides that he needs to regain the initiative. It's time to put his faith in the power of silly hats! Bulbous calls upon his janissary trainees (the Djiveleks). Given how little time it takes to train to be a Zentan janissary, since they are never used in battle, one can get some idea of the quality of those that have still not yet qualified ... Still, never mind the quality, look at the size of their hats!

Groeninghumpe, the Sixth!

The tone of the battle suddenly changes!  Sure, a battle is all laughs when you're shooting at an enemy at long range so that they cannot reply. But when it looks like they might actually reach you and force you into dangerous activities like fighting, then war doesn't seem quite so clever. (Below) The Wurstburp infantry close with the Zentans.

The wily General Bulbous knows that his troops have one key weakness: they aren't any good at anything at all. On that basis, the Zentans decide that discretion is the better part of valour: in the Zentan case, much the larger part; and actually also that kind of "discretion" that is functionally identical to congenital cowardice. (Below) The irregulars fall back as far as they can in the face of the advancing Wursburp troops.

(Below) On the other side, however, their light cavalry presses closer to the Wurstburp horse. The Wurstburpers might have a vulnerable flank. There is much discussion of a mathematical nature about angles, table sizes, wheeling radii and whether one might forfeit the battle by punching one's adversary in the face for being a supreme court rules lawyer. 

Back on the other side of the battlefield, light on their feet in a retreat though they might be, it would seem that the Zentan infantry are still within reach of the Wurstburpers if the latter continue to advance. (Below) Being irregulars, the Zentans have the option, if contacted, to try and evade. Should Unpronunski send his troops in anyway?

For Unpronunski, it isn't a decision at all: he orders his troops to charge! What is a little danger when one's honour is at stake? And also, he is still well behind the fighting line; so, in truth, all the danger will be borne by the tartan-trewed porridge-gobblers that comprise his front line. Keen to deep-fry their enemy in the saturated fat of combat, the claymore wielding Wurstburpers race forwards again! It looks like the Zentans are going to have to test their evasion skills ...

Groeninghumpe, the Fifth!

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! 

Groeninghumpe, the Fourth!

The Zentan irregulars continue to inch forwards. The Wurstburp artillery fire but, who would have guessed?, they fail to inflict any telling damage upon their advancing adversaries. The loss of a few limbs or even heads is unlikely to stop troops for whom speed, dexterity, or the capacity for logical thought are merely 'nice to haves'.

(Above) The Zentan infantry line gibbers and hoots, the troops forming a chaotic, capering mass; like a troop of monkeys that have been let loose on a children's dressing-up box and that have then found to their delight that a barrel marked 'Bananas' actually contains both bananas and a collection of modern firearms.  

Whilst the Wurstburp centre and right remain firmly on the defensive, the highlanders running their hands over their weapons as they wait for the Zentans to come closer, on the left Unpronunski decides to go for more of an active defence.

With the enemy regular cavalry masked by their sheep-brained irregular bretheren, Unpronunski decides it is time for some offensive action! (Above) Baggins' Horse and Fitzbadlie's Cavallerie charge a single Zentan unit. The Zentans fight as hard and heroically as they can; which is to say, not very hard or heroically at all. (Below) Before one can say 'sub-optimal speed-bump' the Zentans have been ridden down.

(Above) The Wurstburp cavalry halt in place. Though suffering minor disorder, they are still in good shape. Any attempt by the remaining Zentan horse (or indeed their riders as well) to take them on is surely in for a good thrashing.

Bulbous has clearly reached a similar conclusion. (Below, left) Declining the invitation to commit his irregular cavalry to anything so hopeless as an actual combat, he instead orders them to begin to move around the Wurstburp left flank. Even Zentans might pose a dangerous threat if they can reach an enemy flank or rear. 

In the Zentan military, the term 'combined arms' is most usually used in the context of the challenge of getting troops to use both of their upper limbs at the same time. Now, however, Bulbous begins to achieve some genuine combined arms coordination. (Above, right) Evidently intent at this stage on fighting a war of position, General Bulbous orders his Borat levend musketeers to move up into the nearby woods. Safe under cover from the enemy cavalry, they are now in a position to bring fire upon Baggins' Horse. 

(Above) The main Zentan line has halted. Bulbous' plan seemingly intends to make use of two key advantages possessed by his army. First, being skirmishers they out-range the Wurstburp musketeers. Second, being Zentan, they have no self-respect. Thus, despite the jeers and cat-calls from their enemy, the Zentan troops demonstrate no intention whatsoever of getting close to the main Wurstburp battle line. Unpronunski's frustrated highlanders are left waving their great choppers in the air, dreaming of poorly trained English conscripts. Unpronunski considers his options ... 

Groeninghumpe, the Third!

Bulbous orders his irregular troops to advance. On the Zentan right wing, the Zentan light cavalry pass through the palace sipahis and begin to move towards the Wurstburp cavalry. In screening his best troops with his dross and making it impossible for the former to make a useful contribution to the battle, Bulbous is, of course, following one of the key principles of Zentan warfare.

(Below) The Zentan irregular infantry shamble towards their adversaries. As they advance, they leave behind their artillery support, another key principle of Zentan warfare. As their Zentan adversaries get nearer, the Wurstburp artillery begin a cannonade, which, in relation to its effectiveness at causing casualties, is rather like a lemonade, but less refreshing.

(Above, top left) As the irregulars advance, the janissaries are left behind. As previous experience has shown, the Zentan view on war is that no great advantage can be had from committing one's decent troops to a fight. The janissaries hang around, catching up on their ironing and pursuing their hobbies. One of the units has already been promoted to elite status through these activities, and a few more well creased pantaloons will no doubt see the other also elevated to this august station.

(Below) In his position between both cavalry and infantry, Unpronunski is able to see in the distance the advancing line of enemy troops. Prince Karl is with him, and they exchange concerned views on the developing character of this battle.

'We should charge!' cries the prince. 'My Scottish blood demands it!'

'But you're not Scottish', replies the general tartly. 'You're from Wurstburp: you're German. You're about as Jacobite as a deep-fried strudel'.

'But I identify as Jacobite', cries Karl.

Unpronunski blows an undiplomatic raspberry. 'We must bide our time, Prince Karl. We must pick exactly the right moment before springing forward with the sword!'

'When will that be?'

'Well, I was hoping that your military experience would be useful in helping to answer that question. Do you have a plan?'

'I could get the cook to rustle something up, I suppose. But I'm not sure if he has any eggs ...'

'That's a flan, my prince. I can see that I am going to have to use some of my own initiative here'.

(Below) The likely development of this battle is clear from its early stages. With the Zentan line extending beyond the Wurstburp left, it seems likely that the Wurstburp cavalry might soon have Zentan irregulars lapping at their flanks: an unpleasant experience by any civilised standards.

(Above) Moreover, at that point in the centre where the irregular cavalry and foot meet, Bulbous may well be able to apply some combined arms attack against the Wurstburp horse. This kind of militarily effective coordination is largely unheard of in Zentan military practice, and so one reason it might fail is that the shock of doing it might require some of the Zentans to lie down for a rest. Bulbous moves his headquarters up. With his artillery and regular troops kept to the rear, the Zentan plan seems to rely entirely on their irregulars to carry the main weight of the fight. To those with any experience in modern warfare, the chances of the success of this approach might seem lower than a limbo-dancing sausage dog ...

Groeninghumpe, the Second!

General Bulbous chooses to deploy his troops in a line; although it's not much of a choice, since the only other option for the Zentan army would be something called 'not a line'. (Below) On the Zentan left, Bulbous positions both of his regiments of janissaries. Here, they can continue their process of becoming elite through the expedient of never, ever moving in a battle; never fighting; and thus never taking the risk of being defeated.

(Above) The remainder of the infantry, all irregulars, are deployed in the centre of the Zentan position. Behind them are both batteries of Bulbous' artillery. That way they unable to see any targets at all, and so Bulbous will not be tempted into the foolish decision to try and fire them.

(Below) Cavalry constitutes the whole of the Zentan right wing, concentrating both the mobile elements of the army and also the most peculiar of the smells.

(Above, right) To the front are both regiments of palace sipahis. They are positioned directly opposite the Wurstburp cavalry. Behind them, Bulbous posts his irregular cavalry, consisting of five regiments. With all of his cavalry concentrated against the Wurstburp horse, it looks like the latter might be in for a tiring day.

(Above) Bulbous then sites his headquarters at the juncture between his irregular foot and irregular cavalry. From here, he is also in command distance of the sipahis. The general's plan is a simple one; and so probably dangerously complex for his troops to execute. By deploying his irregulars across the bulk of the battlefield, troops which collectively can be commanded as a single group, he hopes to pose multiple, simultaneous threats to the Wurstburp defenders.

(Below) Being skirmishers, the Zentan infantry outrange the Wurstburp troops, who in any case are mostly highlanders, fellows just as likely to try and drink their muskets as they are to fire them.

Bulbous completes the stationing of his troops, a process which has been mercifully free of Wurstburp-style 'tactics'. With a growl from the Zentans that could be aggression or which might just be flatulence, Bulbous issues his final orders and the battle commences!

Groeninghumpe, the First!

Wherein the army of the Sanjak of Zenta under Captain-General Taras Bulbous encounters the forces of the Margravate of Badwurst-Wurstburp, commanded by General Bazyli Antonin Unpronunski .

We stand, gentle reader, in the Kingdom of Gelderland, somewhere to the northeast, and in the environs of the hill known locally as the Groeninghumpe. It is not a happy place. It is in Gelderland, for starters; and so it is inevitably, much to the disappointment of all who live there, also in Mittelheim. Other reasons to be unhappy would include the poor state of the local schools, and also the presence of the army of the Margravate of Wurstburp. The latter has been ravaging the local countryside for days, although the former means that most of the locals can't write to anyone to tell them about it. 

The Wurstburp army is by reputation and also, you know, in fact, the worst army in Mittelheim. Its incompetence extends even into its ravaging of innocent civilians. Since the Gelderlanders cannot understand what the ex-Jacobite Wurstburpers are saying, and because none of the locals are named 'Jimmy', the Margravial army has proved singularly unable to extract anything useful by their threats and bullying.

For both the Wurstburpers and the Gelderlanders, circumstances have declined even further. Approaching from the south (above, right hand of the table) are Gelderland's allies, the army of Zenta. These are allies only in the loosest sense, and their loyalty to the local Gelderlanders only really extends to those parts of the day when the Zentans are asleep and need someone to give them a wake up call. At other times, the troops of the Sanjak inflict a second ravaging on the local civilians. The is much more thorough than that inflicted by the Wurstburpers because the lamentable state of the economy in Zenta makes virtually anything anywhere else worth carrying off: wood, straw, false teeth, elderly relatives, or recently buried corpses.

(Below) Faced with the approaching enemy, the Wurstburp commander, General Unpronunski, decides he must deploy his army, even though the accumulation of past experience seems to indicate that this won't help very much.

(Above) The infantry are deployed upon the Groeninghumpe, which is also the objective for this battle. The artillery are deployed upon Little Groeninghumpe; and the cavalry far, far away in the distance. There then commences a process of what some might describe as 'dicking about' but which in Mittelheim is known as 'tactics'. The consequence is that Unpronunski decides that his line is too far extended and his guns too vulnerable upon the hill.

(Above) The original position of the Wurstburp cavalry. On reflection, this placement seems to Unpronunski to be rather exposed and probably reliant on the prospect of having to fight successfully. This is far too brave a deployment, what with it implying that the Wurstburp horse might be able to take on the enemy without any support.

(Above) Equally, the initial deployment of the artillery seems rather ambitious, based as it seems to be on the assumption that artillery fire will have any effect at all on advancing enemy troops. Unpronunski decides that it might be best to hide them amongst the defending infantry and pretend that they aren't there.

(Above) The guns, therefore, are moved and included in the infantry line. They are not dug in since Unpronunski recognises that they may need to move forwards later. Or indeed backwards.

(Above) And so, the final Wurstburp deployment takes place along a rather shorter line. The cavalry are on Little Groeninghumpe, and the artillery jostle uncomfortably among the elbows of the Wurstburp foot.

(Below) Unpronunski (in red) is with Prince Karl von Porckenstauffen (horsed). Karl, known as Bunnie Prince Karlie, because of his buck teeth, is heir to the Margravial seat, as well as most of the other furniture as well. The general's plan is based upon the very reasonable assumption that his highland troops are poor shots, but pretty handy in a hand-to-hand fight, especially against the slack-jawed irregular weasels that compose the bulk of the Zentan troops. Closing rapidly with the enemy will be the basis upon which he plans to win this battle. 

Alas for the Wurstburpers, it turns out there is rather more forest than was originally anticipated; a predictable consequence when no one can remember the rules. New copses, hitherto unnoticed, suddenly spring into view near the Wurstburp line. But that's war in Mittelheim for you.

Across the field of battle, the Zentan hordes begin a process that in other armies would be known as 'deployment', but which actually looks more like 'seepage'. Under the watchful eye of their Wurstburp enemy, the Zentan commander, Taras Bulbous encourages his troops to move to positions that, broadly, seem to face their enemy ...

I Fought The Lore, And The Lore Won!

' ... and this?' asks Radu Pasha sceptically. 'Please don't tell me that this is a glass case containing a disembodied hand with an eyeball on it'.

There is silence.

'Well?' repeats Radu.

Sihirbaz shifts uncomfortably. 'You distinctly told me not to tell you that it was a glass case continuing a disembodied hand with an eyeball on it'.

'And so what is it?'

'It's, ah, not a glass case containing an eyeball and a disembodied hand?'

Radu sighs. 'Sihirbaz, if this were, theoretically, a glass case containing a disembodied hand upon which there was an eye. I suppose the obvious question is why it contains those things and not, say, a half eaten cake or a pile of scones which I think would be the sort of things one normally finds stored under a glass case'.

'I obtained these things from an ancient and powerful sorcer ... ah, I mean, ah, source'.

'Wouldn't the scones have been more useful? I mean, it's not as if you don't already have a useful quota of hands and eyes. What use are a few extras?'

'I was promised that this artifact would prove most handy in keeping an eye on things that were related to the future'.

'The future? Well, it can't work that well. I mean, if it did, wouldn't you have known that you were going to be run out of Wallachia for dabbling in the dark arts and then be driven here to Zenta in search of employment? Couldn't you have taken some preventive measures such as not dabbling in the dark arts and getting caught?'

'I did try' admits Sihirbaz, 'but I was shamefully framed by the local Witchfinder Specific'.

'Witchfinder Specific?'

'Yes, it's like a Witchfinder General, but with a much, much better knowledge of the witchfinding small-print. I was accused of dabbling in the occult and I was prosecuted in court'.

'And you weren't having a dabble?'

'No - I said to someone that I was dabbling in yakult'.

'Is there a difference?'

'The ratio of yoghurt to human sacrifice is much, much higher in what I was doing. But the witchfinder didn't care'.

Radu Pasha sighs. 'Well, I shall have to report my findings to the Hospodar. He won't be pleased. This is', says Radu Pasha, gesturing at the contents of the room, 'a sad bag of research spanners'.

Sihirbaz gulps. 'Well, yes - it is certainly a diverse collection of projects. But I think that you can reassure our lord that the whole will be greater than the sum of the parts'.

Radu Pasha shakes his head sadly. 'Sihirbaz, I suspect the Hospodar might end up sticking some of these parts in your hole, if things don't improve'.

At that moment, a servant appears at the door.

'My lord Radu Pasha - you are required by the Hospodar! News has arrived from the front!'

Rampant Inflation!

'Where did you get this pigeon?' asks Radu Pasha, stopping in another corner of the chamber. 'It looks very odd'. In front of the pasha, something that looks not unlike a tiny red winged lizard perches on a stand, chirping.

'It's an odd story, pasha', replies Sihirbaz. 'I was with some steppe nomads, and there was a fire at their temple: unsurprising, I suppose. given their lax approach to health and safety. The whole giant building and almost everyone in it went up like a torch! And then this young lady came out of the fire. And she was absolutely starkers'.
'What, no clothes at all?'
'Not a stitch. But she did have three of these lizard things on her shoulders'.
'Did she say anything?'
'It was odd, Radu Pasha. One might have expected that she would say something like: "Help! Fire!"; or "Blimey, I seem to be completely starkers - has anyone got a coat I can borrow?" But she started instead to blather on about being the "Mother of Dragons" or something'.
'Really? So what did you do?'
'Well, I got her to give me one of the lizards'.
'Got her to give you one?'
'Yes - I threw my coat over her head, stole one, and then ran off'.
'You have a very liberal view, Sihirbaz, of the meaning of the term "give"'.

Radu Pasha suddenly sees something on a nearby table. 'Well', he says, 'what's this?' pointing to a publication. 'Big Balloons, eh - I thought that you were uninterested in such technologies'.
'I don't think ...' starts Sihirbaz, quickly trying to reach the table.
'Hang on', says Radu in alarm, turning some of the pages. 'The ladies in these woodcuts don't seem to be interacting with any emerging flight technologies; although ... there is a certain amount of inflation on show ...'.
The scientist pulls the publication from Radu's hands and pushes another into them.

'Ah, now this seems more ... scientifically relevant', says Radu, though with a wistful look at the previous publication that Sihirbaz has now hidden away down his trousers. Radu examines the new tome.
'Why, this seems to be a pamphlet detailing how one might construct a giant balloon that can be lifted by the heating of air!' says Radu with enthusiasm.

'Yes, all nonsense though', replies the scientist. 'You must have heard of the early experiments?'

'Didn't they try and inflate some pigs?'

'Yes - and there was a terrible accident - the Hamstein incident'.

Radu leafs through more of the pages. 'But this seems very credible work. Where did you get it from?'

'I once met a French fellow by the name of Montgolfier. He had his experiments documented in pamphlets such as these. I think he intended to pass them on to his sons'.

'How did you get this from Montgolfier?'

'He have it to me'.

'He gave it ... oh, I see, Sihirbaz Pasha. You really must go through a lot of coats in your research. Hmmm, I think I know who might appreciate this document. I shall keep it'.