Shadows of the Night, The Battle of the Blutiger Bach

 

       Emmanuel Costanza, Duke of Brie, looked with satisfaction as his troops drew up into formation. Turning to his aide-de-camp he smiled, "Did you enjoy your breakfast?" the youth nodded nervously, "That is well, for I'm afraid that we shall miss Lunch and are most likely to be late for Dinner. The enemy has claimed the heights and we will have our day's work set before us to drive them off" he motioned to the dark formations along the hilltop that the light of dawn was slowly revealing. "Have our Freedonian allies shown up?" he inquired.

         "No, they are still hours away, your majesty", the aide-de-camp squinted into the murky darkness to the west, "They seem to lack a sense of urgency".

          The Duke leaned toward him with a conspiratorial grin, "Frankly I don't trust them and would be happy to claim this day without their help. They seem to think that the land they help us liberate will be theirs in the end", he urged his steed forward, "Let us examine the enemy's position more closely".

Let It Burn!

the Ferndalian plan for 1620

       Disgusted with his ministers and the failures of his Intelligence services Peter the Famished pounded his fist on the table and shouted once more, "Damn the North! Let It Burn! We have advanced thus far and I will not be distracted by the Freedonian adventurers and the turbulent Frozonians. After we capture the capital we can mop up those fools." He looked up at the cowering courtiers and asked in a darkly threatening tone, "Do any of you have something worthwhile to tell me?". The Minister of War exchanged glances with the Finance Minister, "Well , Your Majesty, I have good news from the west". Peter leaned back in his chair smiling vicously, "Do tell, my faithful servant", he enjoined.
         Igor Mankowski had served as Peter's Minister of War long enough to have learned that it was best to lead with the bad news. He had let the others broach the subject of the Frozonian atrocities and the failure of Boozonia to keep the Freedonians out of their lands before he began his dissertation. "Your Highness knows of the attack on the bridge of boats, a surprise to say the least. But meaningless in the larger picture as we had already resupplied the portion of the capital that the Small-Platers control. The attack stripped out a significant portion of the garrison of the northern third of the capital, it is now held by a skeleton force and we will likely be able to capture it by assault instead of a lengthy siege". He unrolled a large map across the table showing in detail the area around the Gluttonian capital, "Their infantry fled downriver in the pontoons, their cavalry is scattered to the winds while their Freedonian allies wander the swamps of our northern provinces"
        Peter held up his hand, Mankowski instinctively paused, "How long before the Proper Mealers can organize a response?" the King queried.
         "Given the distances they will need to march, three to five weeks", Mankowski's index finger stabbed the map at the location of the Gluttonian Proper Mealer winter quarters, "They are badly out of place, do doubt expecting that their friends northern adventure  would  keep you distracted".
        The King leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he traced the path of the roads to the capital, "Deliver me unto that city and I will make you Duke of all the lands that fall to our swords this year" his voice was like the purr of a beast of prey. He leaned back in his chair, "Now go! Deliver me victories! I need to be freed of this lunatic Prince who has been wandering my palace; get him a throne of his own!"
        Minister of War Mankowski smiled as he walked down the hall to his office, "Duke eh? Of all the lands that fall to our sword?" he thought as he walked into his private chambers and looked at the wall map with the dispositions of the Ferndalian armies, "Well then, I will be almost a King myself, and Hanz will be Emperor of nothing"  he laughed quietly to himself then whispered, "Emperor Igor Mankowski The First".........

the (proposed) Grand Duchy of Mankowski

Nowhere To Run.......The Great Raid on Camembert

         Tadeusz Podolski looked up from the document that he was reading and squinted at his brother,  Krzysztof, "Are you sure of this?" he asked, his voice loaded with anticipation. Krzysztof smiled, "Yes, we found that in a local post office just a day ago". The document in question was a invitation to a local Ferndalian noble to attend a Grand Cotillion at the Summer Palace of Peter the Famished on the 23rd of July, Anno Domini 1620 in Camembert. "But we have only a week to get there", Tadeusz worried.  Krzysztof patted him on the shoulder, "We are just over 120 versts away, three days journey without tiring the horses and we can capture the oppressor himself. Think of the fame! Think of the freedom! Think of the prestige! Frozonia will be forever independent, our father's dream will at last become true". 

       Tadeusz felt his pulse quicken at the thought but, ever the cautious planner, he unrolled a map of northern Ferndalia, "Show me again your proposed route". As his brother pointed out the plan of action and described the different inbound and return trips he felt the confidence grow in his mind. "Take the whole army except the levies, we will make a great show of activity with the Husarska trainees along the northern approaches to distract Ferndalians. Return victorious!" He reached out and they shook hands, "For Father!" he proclaimed, "For Frozonia" he brother returned.

Good Times, Bad Times....The Destruction of the Bridge of Boats, July 12th, 1620AD

a contest of conflicting plans

       The siege of central Vienee had gone on since December, the city managed to hold on to some of the surrounding farmlands and was able to gather supplies from there but, by the time Spring had arrived, things were truly desperate. Butter and heavy cream for making sauces were in short supply. White flour for pastries was nearly gone. Most spices were nigh unto impossible to find and even sausages were rising in price. Surrender was looking more and more like the only remaining option.

       Enter the hero, Victor von Hastenburg, the First Imperial Engineer of Ferndalia, he convinced Peter the Famished that as the Small-Platers controlled the eastern shore of the Upper Gluten River they should build a bridge of boats across and supply the city by that route. Many scoffed at his idea, the river being nearly 3/4 of a mile wide at that point. Von Hastenburg swore it could be done and wagered to pay for the bridge himself if the attempt failed. Faced with such confidence (and suffering no loss if the effort came to naught) Peter gave his approval.  Von Hastenburg set to work and had the bridge assembled and in operation by the end of May despite the problems raised by The Plague. The capital was saved!

       The Proper-Mealers were blissfully unaware of all this until a cavalry patrol pushing down the north bank of the spotted the vast span reaching across the river . They were chased away by the Small-Platers but the cat was out of the bag. Many stratagems were employed to try to break the bridge, first a barge laden with combustibles was launched downstream but that was diverted by the stalwart Small-Plater guard boats. Next an intrepid crew of soldiers drifted downstream on a foggy night with axes intending to cut the hawsers holding the bridge in place, this time they were thwarted by the bells that the engineers had craftily hung on the ropes, the ringing of the bell brought the guard boats out again. Eventually it was decided  that only a proper expedition would be able to capture the end of the bridge and cut it loose from it's moorings. A force of cavalry and fast-marching infantry was assembled from the garrison of North Veinee and sent down the Old Post Road (a little-traveled byway that hoped to bypass the enemy's cavalry patrols).  All would have been well except for one small detail, a spy in the boarding house of the Proper-Mealer officers. The shoe would be on the other foot, the Proper-Mealers would not be executing a surprise attack, they would be walking into a trap. 

The Army of Free Frozonia

the core of the Frozonian army, the famous Winged Hussars

       Tiny, but fierce and famously independent, the reborn army of the Seventh War of Frozoniain Emancipation has at it's center the battle-dominating Winged Hussars. Drawn from the landed gentry each Hussar competes with all the others for splendor, heroism and fame. Like the ancient Vikings they consider dying in battle to be this highest honor to which a man can aspire. Hussars are accompanied by the vassals from their estates who serve in large units of levies, they lack a great deal of martial skill but can control areas of the battle field by their sheer numbers and considerable staying power. Other Freemen serve as well; those wealthy enough to own horses serve in the famed Lisowczycy Light Horse, scouting ahead of the army and harassing the enemy's flanks during battles. Humble Freemen serve on foot in the Haiduks, fierce warriors that combine their muskets with heavy bardische axes (used as musket rests when shooting). These nimble soldiers can scout rough terrain and move freely about the battlefield hunting for opportunities to discomfit the enemy.The individual units of the army can be quite powerful but this force is very sensitive to casualties given the small population that it is drawn from.

      Commander In Chief  Grand Hetman Tadeusz Podolski               Rank 5

          Second in Command   Hetman  Krzysztof Podolski         Rank 4

           Andrzej Seweryn   Hetman of the Hussars                      Rank 4

           Krzysztof Kieslowski                                                       Rank 3
           Dariusz Michalczewski                                                    Rank 3

           Zbigniew Boniek Hetman of the Lisowczycy                  Rank 3
           Adam Malysz                                                                   Rank 3

          Andrzej Golota    Hetman of the Foot                               Rank 3
          Czeslaw Milosz                                                                 Rank 3

                  The Winged Hussars; six units of Husarska
                  The Lisowczycy          seven units of Organized Lisowczycy with pistols
                  The Haiduks                four unit of Well Equipped Veteran Haiduks with Halberds
                  The Levy                     Two units of Well Equipped, Large, Obedient Levies without pikes


         With the stunning success of the early days of the campaign more men are expected to join the colors soon , but for now, these men are sword and shield of Frozonia.
           

Wild Horses.....but more appropriately; Winged Hussars!

       Tadeusz Podolski looked up from his desk at the dusty messenger that had just clattered into his courtyard and rushed into his house. The Governor of Frozonia had received far too many hurried messages of bad news in the last three months but his expression softened when he realized that it was his young nephew, Kazimierz. "Well, what brings my favorite nephew to my house in such a hurry on this fine day?" The young man made a concerted effort to compose himself as he straightened his uniform and drew an envelope from his jacket pocket. With deliberate formality he bowed and presented the envelope to his uncle.

        Tadeusz reached out and took the proffered packet from his nephew with a quizzical look. Turning it over he saw that it bore the seal of his brother, but not the seal of the Commander of the Fortress of Druhzba, but instead the seal of the family Poldolski. "So this personal message had to be sent with great haste?" he asked his nephew, "Has the plague claimed another of our House?" He saw his nephew's eyes widen slightly and a faint flicker of a grin dance across his face, "No sir!" he replied smartly. "I believe that you will be a happy recipient of this news, But my father forbade me from telling you, he desired to be the one that broke the news to you, Sir!"

         Tadeusz raised one eyebrow then looked back down at the packet as he slid his thumb under the wax seal and broke it open. He carefully open the letter and began to read it. His eyes narrowed and he stood up so suddenly that his chair flew across the room,  he looked up at Kazimierz with a smile of joy spreading across his face, "Is this true? he asked in an incredulous tone, This isn't some sort of cruel joke, is this really true?" The boy returned his smile, "Yes, Uncle, it is! As real as the sunrise!"

         Tadeusz threw back his head and laughed for joy, "After all these years, and all those broken promises, they have finally come to our aid!" He turned to the credenza next to his desk and picked up a bottle of vodka, "We drink!" He shouted, "We drink to a free Frozonia, the Freedonians have finally marched to our aid!" He pulled out the cork and took a long draught before passing the bottle to his nephew. "You will have the chance to earn your wings before the week is out lad, Free Frozonia!"

        The other half of Louis the Ravenous' foreign policy had fallen into place. Not only had Louis invaded Ferndalia via Boozonia, he had managed to convince the recently reconquered Frozonians to join him in his attack on the Ferndalian Northern Marches. He knew that the Frozonians chafed under harsh rule of the House of Whey and would need little prompting to rise up and try to re-establish their ancient freedoms. He counted on that desire to persuade the Frozonians to put an army into the field in Peter's rear and ease the task of his own invading army. Let us see how that turned out....