Well....it appears that my little country has stumbled into some of the political shennanigans of some of our neighbors, thanks to our Intelligence Agent Mack The Knife. The situation came up suddenly, and if things work out, it will be resolved at the Seven Year's War Convention in South Bend this March. A four (or more) way tussle to see who gets to control the Runaway Duchess of Saschen-Vindow. Our Fearless Leader Jeff and Der Alte Fritz suggested that each faction write up a situation brief, so the players will have a script to help flesh out some of the roleplaying aspects. So....here's my stab at it:
Erwin von Mack, aka Mack The Knife, is an Intelligence Agent of the small state of Raubenstadt, near Stagonia. (It's so small the joke is that he may be the ONLY Intelligence Agent in the country.) He has learned, perhaps from Duke Peter himself, that the Duchess of Saschen-Vindow is making a ill-considered, mad, UNESCORTED dash to Stagonia. The temptation to engage in some free-lance kidnapping and ransom is just too great for him to resist.
He has "borrowed" a half-troop of Frei-Hussars from Colonel Count Rotten von Pilfering to provide the muscle; then he plotted the Duchess' probable path on a map. Assuming that such a pampered, high-born noble would avoid camping out on the cold, hard ground...."The Crooked Kobold Inn" looked like his best bet to intercept her. His plan is to disguise the Frei-Hussars as Stagonian Customs Police to fool the locals and misdirect anyone who might inquire later. Once the Duchess has been determined to be at the inn, the Frei-Hussars will come trotting in from the direction of the Stagonian border. The idea being that she will be expecting friends to arrive from that direction. The Second Squad will surround the inn to make sure no one slips in or out. The First Squad will break into two sections. The first section will secure the courtyard, the main entrance, and hold the horses of the second section. The second section, under Mack's direction, will enter the inn, proceed to the Duchess' room, and Mack will try to convince her that they are an escort from King Ludwig, but they have to put on a show of "arresting" her for the knaves, louts, and tillers of soil down below in the common room. (His priorities are getting those damned pistols away from her, and getting her to slip on the handcuffs. There will be time enough to disabuse her of the notion that this is all for show later.) If guile fails, and she suspects, then she will have to be overcome the old fashioned way, and every man in her room takes the risk of being shot by the hellcat until she is subdued.
Once she is secured, voluntarily or otherwise, they will ride like the Wild Hunt is after them, back to Raubenstadt, and Devil take the hindmost. To discourage any pursuit, each trooper is equipped with a large bag of caltrops that they will scatter in their wake when it is their turn at rear guard. Anyone who attempts to get in their way will be shot, cut down, trampled, pistol whipped, knifed, strangled, and/or pummeled without mercy. Their ultimate destination is the fortress of Felsigburg, where her fate will be decided.
Unknown to von Mack, his little "smash and grab" operation is about to get very complicated, very quickly, for there are other groups on the prowl for the Duchess. (Oh, how the Gods must be laughing! Wheels within wheels.) Here are the groups and Mack's attitude towards them:
Schinderfranz's Chauffers - Enterprising gentlemen of fortune? If necessary, a deal could be reached. Appeal to their greed. The ransom would be substantial.
de Winter's Black Legion - Her reputation preceeds her and her lackeys, but at least she's not Stagonian. Again, if necessary as a last resort to complete the mission, a temporary alliance could be forged, but double sentries all around to prevent a double cross, until the Duchess is under lock and key.
Stagonians - The only good Stagonian is a dead Stagonian. No deals or alliances will be made with any Stagonian or anybody allied with them. Unfortunately, not every Stagonian is so open about their nationality and/or loyalty. The same goes for Stagonian Allies. So....Mack gets to play one of his favorite games, "Spot The Stagonian". There is only one rule to the game. If there is any doubt, shoot first and let someone else ask the question, because Mack and his men intend to be long gone before the first inquiry is made. Double points are awarded, if the "Spot" is put between the eyes of the suspected Stagonian.
Duke Peter's Loyalist Dragoons - These guys might be useful in a tight spot, if an "understanding of mutual benefit" can be reached!
The Duchess' Rebel Supporters - "OUT OF MY WAY, PECK!" No deals or alliances with these wannabes.
The Local Militia - How dare they meddle in the affairs of their betters! Ride the scum down and push on!
Rowdy Nobles - One warning to stand aside and live, or interfere and die. No deals.
The Inquisition - Are these guys still around?! Most Raubenstadtians are Presbyterians of the Knox/Calvin ilk. KILL THEM ALL if they dare stand before us. NO QUARTER TAKEN OR GIVEN! REMEMBER MAGDEBURG!!!!!!!!!CHARGE!!!!!!!!!
Count l'Beauphaup & Unter Gruntshuffen malcontents - A conditional yesss....to these guys. Try to keep the squinty eyes and calculating looks to a bare minimum.
Witch Hunters/Vampire Slayers - These peasants are just too ignorant to even try to strike a deal. Threaten to turn them into newts or drink their blood as circumstances demand. If they don't break from the threats, kill them and their little dog too.
Friendly Hunters - One warning to stand aside and live, or interfere and die. No deals.
I'm really excited about how this scenario plays out. Though I will not be able to attend the Convention, I hope all the players enjoy themselves. Oh, by the way, Mack's nickname, "The Knife" is just that; a nickname. Even though he carries a large jack knife, and never lets it show a trace of red, I think he enjoys the look of horror on the faces of his victims when he produces the brace of double barrelled, large caliber, horse pistols that are loaded with buck and ball.
"Oh when the shark bites with his teeth, dear, scarlet billows start to spread...."
Monday, January 12, 2009
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Well There I Was....
2009 already?! Didn't we just celebrate this a few months ago? It seems the years go by faster the older I get. Remember as a kid when the seasons lasted long enough that when they changed, you were ready? Hummm....seems there's a warning in there somewhere - like, "Gather ye rosebuds while ye may.", or "Time and tide wait for no man."; or even, "When can we expect payment?".
Oh well then. In keeping with the tradition of the season, here's my wargaming resolutions:
1. Finish off the basement for the wargaming area of my dreams. The Margravine refers to it as "The Man Cave". I envision a massive table for my armies to clash upon. Storage shelves so that my warriors can be displayed when not in use, and my massive book collection can be removed from the cardboard boxes from the garage. Adequate lighting so that I can see what I'm doing. Military themed posters and paintings on the walls. It will be great!
2. Master the digital camera that we got for Christmas , so that I too, may add pictures to the blog. (They really are worth a thousand words and add so much to the postings.)
3. I am grimly determined that 2009 will be the year that I actually go to a Convention, so I can meet some of you characters in person.
4. Try to keep track of how many miniatures I paint this year. I hope that this will spur me to set aside some time each week to reduce that pile of plastic and pewter.
5. Last, but not least, actually try to get some wargaming done!
Good luck in 2009! May your dice never let you down!
Oh well then. In keeping with the tradition of the season, here's my wargaming resolutions:
1. Finish off the basement for the wargaming area of my dreams. The Margravine refers to it as "The Man Cave". I envision a massive table for my armies to clash upon. Storage shelves so that my warriors can be displayed when not in use, and my massive book collection can be removed from the cardboard boxes from the garage. Adequate lighting so that I can see what I'm doing. Military themed posters and paintings on the walls. It will be great!
2. Master the digital camera that we got for Christmas , so that I too, may add pictures to the blog. (They really are worth a thousand words and add so much to the postings.)
3. I am grimly determined that 2009 will be the year that I actually go to a Convention, so I can meet some of you characters in person.
4. Try to keep track of how many miniatures I paint this year. I hope that this will spur me to set aside some time each week to reduce that pile of plastic and pewter.
5. Last, but not least, actually try to get some wargaming done!
Good luck in 2009! May your dice never let you down!
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Season's Greetings From Raubenstadt
Now that the Holidays are getting into high gear, with all the decorating, shopping, wrapping, and cooking, I wanted to take a moment and express how much I have enjoyed being a member of this merry band of kindred souls. EvE came into my life at a time when I desperately needed a distraction from reality. For short periods of time I could wander through a different time and place, and have a good laugh now and then.
So....Gentlemen charge your glasses and raise them high for the Markgraaf's Favorite Toast, "To us and those like us! There are damed few left, and most of them are dead!"
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to You and Yours!
Martin
So....Gentlemen charge your glasses and raise them high for the Markgraaf's Favorite Toast, "To us and those like us! There are damed few left, and most of them are dead!"
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to You and Yours!
Martin
Thursday, November 6, 2008
A Day That Will Be Long Remembered
While still basking in the afterglow of the Presidential Election, what should arrive in the mail, but my copy of C.S. Grant's, "The Wargame Companion"! After a quick scan of the contents, I am impressed. Once again Mr. Grant delivers the goods in a classic style, as he lets us "peek behind the curtain" into the mechanics and finer details of a Grant-style wargame. Just like "The Wargame", it can be read again and again with just as much enjoyment as the first time.
In addition, the mailbox coughed up Battlegames #14! Huzzah!! Every wargamer should have a subscription to this excellent publication.
Then in a remarkable three for three, there was a package from Historifigs with my first 25mm Scruby Jager Regiment! It just doesn't get better than this!
In addition, the mailbox coughed up Battlegames #14! Huzzah!! Every wargamer should have a subscription to this excellent publication.
Then in a remarkable three for three, there was a package from Historifigs with my first 25mm Scruby Jager Regiment! It just doesn't get better than this!
Sunday, November 2, 2008
What's Eating Colonel Stein?
Colonel "The Terrible" Heinz von Stein was a very worried man, and he had very good reason to be so worried. His little brother, "The Horrible" Horst von Stein had come back, very close to home and he had not been alone. A considerable number of battalions, squadrons, and batteries had marched with him towards the city of Frankfort. Horst had left his native country, Raubenstadt, under a cloud of suspicion for a series of homicides that had advanced him remarkably quickly in rank, for service in foreign parts with the army of Hesse-Homburg about
a year ago. The immediate plan was to get him out of the country and away from vengeful relatives; then he was supposed to die gloriously in battle. This would hush up the entire matter, and give everyone involved plausable deniability as to the fate of Stein the younger.
Unfortunately, as of yet, young Horst had not fulfilled his part of the bargain. To be fair, this was not entirely his fault, since he was unaware that he was supposed to "shuffle off this mortal coil". Not only had he not died gloriously in battle, he had thrived in the Hesse-Homburg service, and had secured further promotions in rank and favor. (We can only wonder what nefarious and perhaps gory deeds had earned him these advancements and considerations, but whatever they were, they appeared to rest lightly on his soul.) Heinz had often wondered if the Homburgers really knew what kind of poisonous asp they had sheltered, as the months wore on and no word of Horst's long hoped for demise arrived.
Now, in addition to his fraternal concerns, the Colonel had received his orders for the campaign against the Prince-Bishop of Spires, and was getting ready to take his regiment, the Truerpfalz Frei Corps into action. It didn't look good. He was absolutely sure the General had never really forgiven him for the eighty piece Sterling Silver Tea Set that had come up missing when the Frei Corps had been the baggage train guard a couple of campaigns ago. Stein's account of a thieving battalion of Croats, that no one else had seen, was a mighty small fig leaf to stand behind, but that was his story and he was sticking to it. According to the General, the tea set had been given to him as a gift by the Russian Czarina for some mysterious service the old fellow had rendered. Ever since then, the General called upon von Stein whenever there was a particularly difficult mission to perform. It was a shame that the set had been melted down. He was sure the fence had cheated him as well. Stein had seen to it personally, that the last of the spoons had gone into the melting pot a couple of days ago, and that the fence was silenced forever. Now the von Stein family estate was free and clear of all debts, for the time being.
Colonel Stein thrust these thoughts aside and assumed the blank, wooden, somewhat stupid mask he wore whenever he reported to the General. As General Schwillingstaufinstein put it, "Colonel Stein, do you know how they hunt tigers in India? No? Well.... they tether a goat in a clearing, then the hunters take their place in some nearby treestands. Now the goat, the silly old thing, doesn't realize that it is being sacrificed, and it begins to bleat because it's thirsty, hungry, or needs to be milked. Eventually, the tiger comes around and while it is busy killing the goat, the hunters have a clear shot, or two, or three at the big kitty. Once they're sure the beast is dead, they climb down from the stands and tell each other lies about how brave they were and were hardly terrorized at all."
"Now your situation is very similar. I'm sending you out on our extreme left flank. Your corps will BE our left flank. No other supporting units will be available for you to fall back on, or call for assistance, if you get into trouble. Your mission is to make the citizens of Gerolburg cower behind their walls. You will be the tiger to their goat, so let some of their bleats for help get away to the Prince-Bishop. Make those peasants and burghers think that your rabble are the advance guard of our mighty host. They are not trained military observers ....so lots of bugle calls, drumming, campfires, and whatever else your fertile imagination suggests. Do you understand Colonel?"
"Yes Sir! But sir, if I let some messengers through, won't the Prince-Bishop respond? Instead of being the tiger I would be the goat!"
"Exactly Stein!", the General cheerily responded. "When the Prince-Bishop and his men come storming up to smite you hip and thigh, and gobble you up, the rest of our army will have an opportunity to hit him on his left flank while he is strung out on the march! This makes him the tiger to our hunters. Dismissed Colonel!"
"It's going to be awfully hard on the goats, sir." Stein said as he saluted and left the command tent.
"The goat should have left my damned spoons alone!", the General whispered to himself.
a year ago. The immediate plan was to get him out of the country and away from vengeful relatives; then he was supposed to die gloriously in battle. This would hush up the entire matter, and give everyone involved plausable deniability as to the fate of Stein the younger.
Unfortunately, as of yet, young Horst had not fulfilled his part of the bargain. To be fair, this was not entirely his fault, since he was unaware that he was supposed to "shuffle off this mortal coil". Not only had he not died gloriously in battle, he had thrived in the Hesse-Homburg service, and had secured further promotions in rank and favor. (We can only wonder what nefarious and perhaps gory deeds had earned him these advancements and considerations, but whatever they were, they appeared to rest lightly on his soul.) Heinz had often wondered if the Homburgers really knew what kind of poisonous asp they had sheltered, as the months wore on and no word of Horst's long hoped for demise arrived.
Now, in addition to his fraternal concerns, the Colonel had received his orders for the campaign against the Prince-Bishop of Spires, and was getting ready to take his regiment, the Truerpfalz Frei Corps into action. It didn't look good. He was absolutely sure the General had never really forgiven him for the eighty piece Sterling Silver Tea Set that had come up missing when the Frei Corps had been the baggage train guard a couple of campaigns ago. Stein's account of a thieving battalion of Croats, that no one else had seen, was a mighty small fig leaf to stand behind, but that was his story and he was sticking to it. According to the General, the tea set had been given to him as a gift by the Russian Czarina for some mysterious service the old fellow had rendered. Ever since then, the General called upon von Stein whenever there was a particularly difficult mission to perform. It was a shame that the set had been melted down. He was sure the fence had cheated him as well. Stein had seen to it personally, that the last of the spoons had gone into the melting pot a couple of days ago, and that the fence was silenced forever. Now the von Stein family estate was free and clear of all debts, for the time being.
Colonel Stein thrust these thoughts aside and assumed the blank, wooden, somewhat stupid mask he wore whenever he reported to the General. As General Schwillingstaufinstein put it, "Colonel Stein, do you know how they hunt tigers in India? No? Well.... they tether a goat in a clearing, then the hunters take their place in some nearby treestands. Now the goat, the silly old thing, doesn't realize that it is being sacrificed, and it begins to bleat because it's thirsty, hungry, or needs to be milked. Eventually, the tiger comes around and while it is busy killing the goat, the hunters have a clear shot, or two, or three at the big kitty. Once they're sure the beast is dead, they climb down from the stands and tell each other lies about how brave they were and were hardly terrorized at all."
"Now your situation is very similar. I'm sending you out on our extreme left flank. Your corps will BE our left flank. No other supporting units will be available for you to fall back on, or call for assistance, if you get into trouble. Your mission is to make the citizens of Gerolburg cower behind their walls. You will be the tiger to their goat, so let some of their bleats for help get away to the Prince-Bishop. Make those peasants and burghers think that your rabble are the advance guard of our mighty host. They are not trained military observers ....so lots of bugle calls, drumming, campfires, and whatever else your fertile imagination suggests. Do you understand Colonel?"
"Yes Sir! But sir, if I let some messengers through, won't the Prince-Bishop respond? Instead of being the tiger I would be the goat!"
"Exactly Stein!", the General cheerily responded. "When the Prince-Bishop and his men come storming up to smite you hip and thigh, and gobble you up, the rest of our army will have an opportunity to hit him on his left flank while he is strung out on the march! This makes him the tiger to our hunters. Dismissed Colonel!"
"It's going to be awfully hard on the goats, sir." Stein said as he saluted and left the command tent.
"The goat should have left my damned spoons alone!", the General whispered to himself.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
The Dragoons Have Arrived!
Those evil, evil men over at Zevzda have just released their Great Northern War Swedish Dragoon Set just in time for the holidays. Their just as evil minions over at the Michigan Toy Soldier and Figure Company have them for sale at $11.99 per box. You get one Officer, one standard bearer, one Bugler, three dismounted Dragoons, three Dragoons firing pistols, and six Dragoons charging with swords. Plastice Soldier Review should have something up soon. They look excellent! I can't wait for the Roadapplegang and the Hayburningnags to take to the field!
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Indian Summer
This is my favorite time of year. The heat and rains of Summer are over. All the crops in the fields are ready to be harvested. The weather is turning cooler, but is not yet cold. Bright sunny days and a bit of a breeze to let the leaves know it's almost time to go, but not yet. It's for days like these that I stay in Indiana. Indian Summer. There was a time, not so long ago, when mention of Indian Summer in this neck of the woods would make a settler's eyes squint, and he'd check the load on his rifle a little more often. Since both sides of that conflict lived so close to the agricultural cycle, a raid by either side before the crops were gathered and stored for Winter, would mean "starving times" in late February and early March, and some hard decisions would have to be made.
Nothing quite that grim around the Meltzer Schloss, though. The two youngest are off to college, and the two oldest are commuting to their jobs. The rennovation of the basement continues. Most of the heavy deconstruction is done, so now I'm taking a look at the decontamination and wiring requirements for the lighting. Visions of a wargaming area shimmer before me, like a glimpse of the Promised Land. I've been pouring through my back issues of Hal Thinglum's (May His Name Be Forever Blessed!) Midwestern Wargamer's Association Newsletter. There are a number of articles in MWAN that have just about everything about building a gaming area. It will be something to have it ready for the first game! I've been good enough for a Digita Camera this year for Christmas.....(Okay, okay! I'm throwing myself on Santa's mercy, but I blame Alte Fritz and his Closet o' Lead, for leading me to acquire my own "Mound o' Plastic".) and maybe I'll be able to post some pictures of the process early next year, if not before. Heh, heh, heh.
Those evil, evil men over at Zvezda with their excellent, reasonably priced, miniatures, and their just as evil minions over at The Perfect Captain, keep tempting me to try out different eras. So between them, most of my disposable income has been disposed of! (See Previous Comment on Mound o' Plastic.) TPC's "Battle Finder" system in particular, is very good, and I foresee a lot of campaigns based around it. Their "Hoplomachia" set of rules for Classical Greek warfare and Zvezda's Greek and Persian miniatures made for an irresistable combination. It remains to be seen how the Greeks fare under the leadership of their Hegemon, Democrates Erronious, against their nemisis, the Persian Satrap, Arses The Extremely Ill-Tempered The Fourth.
While cleaning up the basement, I came across eight unopened boxes of Airfix Napoleonic French Infantry. Who-hoo! (Purchased, stored away, and forgotten more years ago than I like to recall.) Recently, I've been thinking about how my little Imagi-Nation would have fared in the late 18th/early 19th Century. The King of Bavaria and the Grand Duke of Baden-Baden did alright in those tumultous times; so why not the Markgraaf and his descendants?! Hummmm......the painting line is pretty long already, but the vision of seeing the armed might of Raubenstadt in a Napoleonic version it just too hard to resist. The discovery of the Airfix boxes was an omen. (Yes. I admit I have a low sales resistance level and am a compulsive customer too.)
Speaking of Raubenstadt, it's been a while. So let's pop over to the palace grounds and see what's going on:
The Markgraaf and his Chancellor are taking a walk and talking in the formal garden, enjoying the day, while the Margravine and the General play cribbage in a temporary pavillion, so she can keep an eye upon her youngest son who is sailing a model ship (A gift from the Ambassador from Beerstein) in one of the fountains.
"So Otto...How did the first convoy to Frankfort go?"
"About as well as could be expected, My Graaf. No trouble at the borders, or with customs at the city gates, and a minimum of Gallacian 'inspections'. There was only one disturbance worthy of notation. A merchant who rejoices in the name, 'Cut-My-Own-Throat Dilbert, was under the impression that the barrels of salted pork from the village of Bad Ham belonged to him."
"Remarkable. What does Mr. Dilbert do for a living, and how did he receive such an impression?"
"He is, I gather, a vendor of questionable edibles on a stick."
"On a stick, Otto?"
"Yes My Graaf. Deep fried usually, but also served pickled, salted, or jerked. He has quite the reputation as an entrepaneur with low overhead. The barrels were clearly labelled with the village of origin. When the drover's back was turned, Mr. Dilbert, his associates, and two barrels were missing. My Graaf, I doubt that the situation will continue to be this placid."
"Ah Yes. The Germanians will be advancing soon from the Gap. What was the mood in Frankfort?"
"The Gallacians are so increasingly nervous, that they do not notice that the Frankfurters are stealing them blind! My Graaf. We'll try to get another convoy or two into the city before things come apart. I hope that it doesn't boil down to a prolonged seige. Both sides won't stay on their own side of the Main, if it's a long campaign. They'll be looking for supplies."
"Yes...Mr. Dilbert may be reduced to selling Rats on a Stick and still be making a profit. I'll notify the General that we'll have to look to our North. Brigadier von Klunker, the Grenadiers, and the Fusiliers will set out day after tomorrow. Perhaps showing the flag, with a bit of muscle behind it will be enough to discourage any foragers. I hope that with most of the Army dispatched to the South to deal with the Prince-Bishop of Spires, that we aren't in a cleft stick, Otto."
"Yes, My Graaf."
Concealing all traces of concern, the Markgraaf of Raubenstadt turned and shouted, "Ahoy there Admiral! How many bad pirates have you hung from the mainmast?"
Nothing quite that grim around the Meltzer Schloss, though. The two youngest are off to college, and the two oldest are commuting to their jobs. The rennovation of the basement continues. Most of the heavy deconstruction is done, so now I'm taking a look at the decontamination and wiring requirements for the lighting. Visions of a wargaming area shimmer before me, like a glimpse of the Promised Land. I've been pouring through my back issues of Hal Thinglum's (May His Name Be Forever Blessed!) Midwestern Wargamer's Association Newsletter. There are a number of articles in MWAN that have just about everything about building a gaming area. It will be something to have it ready for the first game! I've been good enough for a Digita Camera this year for Christmas.....(Okay, okay! I'm throwing myself on Santa's mercy, but I blame Alte Fritz and his Closet o' Lead, for leading me to acquire my own "Mound o' Plastic".) and maybe I'll be able to post some pictures of the process early next year, if not before. Heh, heh, heh.
Those evil, evil men over at Zvezda with their excellent, reasonably priced, miniatures, and their just as evil minions over at The Perfect Captain, keep tempting me to try out different eras. So between them, most of my disposable income has been disposed of! (See Previous Comment on Mound o' Plastic.) TPC's "Battle Finder" system in particular, is very good, and I foresee a lot of campaigns based around it. Their "Hoplomachia" set of rules for Classical Greek warfare and Zvezda's Greek and Persian miniatures made for an irresistable combination. It remains to be seen how the Greeks fare under the leadership of their Hegemon, Democrates Erronious, against their nemisis, the Persian Satrap, Arses The Extremely Ill-Tempered The Fourth.
While cleaning up the basement, I came across eight unopened boxes of Airfix Napoleonic French Infantry. Who-hoo! (Purchased, stored away, and forgotten more years ago than I like to recall.) Recently, I've been thinking about how my little Imagi-Nation would have fared in the late 18th/early 19th Century. The King of Bavaria and the Grand Duke of Baden-Baden did alright in those tumultous times; so why not the Markgraaf and his descendants?! Hummmm......the painting line is pretty long already, but the vision of seeing the armed might of Raubenstadt in a Napoleonic version it just too hard to resist. The discovery of the Airfix boxes was an omen. (Yes. I admit I have a low sales resistance level and am a compulsive customer too.)
Speaking of Raubenstadt, it's been a while. So let's pop over to the palace grounds and see what's going on:
The Markgraaf and his Chancellor are taking a walk and talking in the formal garden, enjoying the day, while the Margravine and the General play cribbage in a temporary pavillion, so she can keep an eye upon her youngest son who is sailing a model ship (A gift from the Ambassador from Beerstein) in one of the fountains.
"So Otto...How did the first convoy to Frankfort go?"
"About as well as could be expected, My Graaf. No trouble at the borders, or with customs at the city gates, and a minimum of Gallacian 'inspections'. There was only one disturbance worthy of notation. A merchant who rejoices in the name, 'Cut-My-Own-Throat Dilbert, was under the impression that the barrels of salted pork from the village of Bad Ham belonged to him."
"Remarkable. What does Mr. Dilbert do for a living, and how did he receive such an impression?"
"He is, I gather, a vendor of questionable edibles on a stick."
"On a stick, Otto?"
"Yes My Graaf. Deep fried usually, but also served pickled, salted, or jerked. He has quite the reputation as an entrepaneur with low overhead. The barrels were clearly labelled with the village of origin. When the drover's back was turned, Mr. Dilbert, his associates, and two barrels were missing. My Graaf, I doubt that the situation will continue to be this placid."
"Ah Yes. The Germanians will be advancing soon from the Gap. What was the mood in Frankfort?"
"The Gallacians are so increasingly nervous, that they do not notice that the Frankfurters are stealing them blind! My Graaf. We'll try to get another convoy or two into the city before things come apart. I hope that it doesn't boil down to a prolonged seige. Both sides won't stay on their own side of the Main, if it's a long campaign. They'll be looking for supplies."
"Yes...Mr. Dilbert may be reduced to selling Rats on a Stick and still be making a profit. I'll notify the General that we'll have to look to our North. Brigadier von Klunker, the Grenadiers, and the Fusiliers will set out day after tomorrow. Perhaps showing the flag, with a bit of muscle behind it will be enough to discourage any foragers. I hope that with most of the Army dispatched to the South to deal with the Prince-Bishop of Spires, that we aren't in a cleft stick, Otto."
"Yes, My Graaf."
Concealing all traces of concern, the Markgraaf of Raubenstadt turned and shouted, "Ahoy there Admiral! How many bad pirates have you hung from the mainmast?"
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