I Won't Back Down; a battle outside the walls of Gruyere

        The Comte du Fromage sighed and looked up from his charts and maps, "What is it now?" he asked in an exasperated tone as he addressed the courier. The cavalryman bowed low and presented a sealed envelope to the Comte, "I would never have interrupted you but my General said this was most urgent".  The Marshall took the message, broke the seal and glanced at the the text of the communique.  "My good man you must see my cook for a quick meal, I want to see you back here within the hour". The courier bowed and withdrew.  

         The Count returned to his charts and maps, furiously concentrating on the dispositions of his troops and the map reflecting the progress of the mine below the walls of Gruyere. Unhappily satisfied that his worst suspicions were confirmed he sat down for a moment to gather his wits. After a couple of glasses of claret he called for his secretary, "It seems that our Frozonian friends have left us in the lurch, the Ferndalians are marching against us as we speak. We will have to cancel the assault and move troops to block the advance of the Ferndalains. Damn it! I should have insisted that we bring heavier guns! A battery of 18 pounders and these walls would have been dust weeks ago, instead we are forced to tunnel like rats beneath the ground. We will leave troops to cover the minehead but we will have to abandon the rest of the works. Two Squadrons and the Grenadier companies will stay; I will take the rest of our force and stop the Ferndalians. Leave word for the engineers to fire the mine as soon as is possible, we may need to have the fortress slighted if Fate treats us poorly".

         Duke Ivan "The Bitter" drove his men hard trying to cover ground before the Freedonian invaders could react. "March, my sons! The faster we move the less we will bleed!" He marched next to his green troops setting an example with his relentless energy, dismounting  and trudging along the muddy roads with his men. None dared to shirk their duty when a sixty year old Duke was marching next to them despite the soul-crushing pace. The miles from Cheddar were covered in just ten days at the cost of hundreds of stragglers but the Duke knew that time was more important than manpower. He needed to force a battle on the Freedonian invaders before Gruyere fell and provided them a base with access to the sea. The frantic messages from the city as they had followed the progress of the mine beneath their walls gave urgency to the Duke's normally impatient temperament; he drove his men not out of a sense of cruelty but out of cruel necessity, time was not their ally.

 

 

I Fought The Law....and The Law Won! A jailbreak on Pinatella goes badly awry

       This battle is a follow-on to The Relief of Pinatella which found the frigate Dijon having gone mercenary to be fighting against it old fleet-mates. The Dijon was sunk and such of the crew as were rescued were put on trial for being turn-coats. This game was fought using Pikemans Lament rules, the island was stylized to fit onto my tabletop.

the actual island of Pinatella

        The stink of unwashed bodies and fear filled the room; oblivious to it all Rene Chartrand leaned against the wall and looked at his former First Mate Alaine Clermont, "Well, we will all hang soon enough". 

        Clermont laughed grimly, "At the time seemed like a good idea to switch sides, in retrospect perhaps becoming prisoners of war would have been better. Shall I tell the boys that we are going to have to take action tonight?". He carefully dusted off his britches as he stood up to look out the tiny window of the cell.

          Chartrand stepped next to Clermont to peer down into the bay. He could see the King's Commissioner's boat leaving the harbor as the supply ship waited to enter. "I would say that tonight is our only chance, it is good to see that the supply boat is punctual, that is our ticket for of getting out of here. The watch changes at the fort at dusk, we will make our move then. With some luck we can get most of the way around the bay before the garrison discovers what we are up to"

Some Interesting Rules (and they are free!)

        Over at the Wars of Louis Quatorze website they have posted a link to some interesting new, and free, wargaming rules covering this period and then on through the end of the War of Spanish Succession.

        You can find the rules here but check out the entire website, Louis XIV's rule spanned the period from the end of the Thirty Years War to the establishment of the modern Europe as we know it today. There is tons of interesting articles and links.

A Note on the Epicurean Monetary System

 

        Centuries ago, when almost all of the continent of Epicurea was ruled by the Wholly Romaine Empire, the monetary system was established. Through the intervening years nations have risen and fallen but all have subscribed to the ancient method of accounting and payment. The simplicity and effectiveness of the system, combined with its universal acceptance, has made it one of the most enduring features of Epicurean life. It functions as follows:

Riding the Storm Out, Another Naval Affary ends poorly for Freedonia

       Louis the Ravenous sat on his throne leaning his head against his upthrust index finger which he was rubbing in small circles on his temple. He sighed deeply and asked, "So, what you are telling me is that the Northern Expedition has wandered off and gotten bogged down besieging some tiny port, the Gluttonians have failed to support our other troops in the efforts to free Viennee from the Ferndalian invaders and, on top of everything else, the wretched Ferndalians not only are patrolling just off our shore, they attack our ships as they are trying to return home.?" He raised an eyebrow and smiled dryly.

the situation at dawn, the ships were battered by last night's storm,

 all sustained some degree of damage; the smaller, handier and better crewed Ferndalian ships each got 1/2 d4 damage to each of their masts and 1/2 d6 to each hull section; the larger, less handy and indifferently crewed Freedonian ships suffered the same but did not halve the damage

Fight 'Em 'Til You Can't

 

Ferndalian Minister of War, Igor Mankowski, and his dream;

 a Duchy of his own, stretching across all of northern Gluttonia

       The Comte du Fromage smiled as he viewed the Small-Plater forces arrayed against him, "We shall show our Gluttonian allies how to conduct a proper assault. Nothing like their bungled efforts at the Blutiger Bach two weeks ago" he proclaimed with a satisfied tone, "Now let us have breakfast before we get on with today's work". The Freedonians had spent the past weeks maneuvering around the siegeworks of the Ferndalian invaders seeking to get a feel for the enemy's response time and the strength of the ring of earthworks that surrounded the city of Vienee. 

       At long last they had found a gap  in the line right near the village of Stalzdat, granted it was a position that needed little improvement; a continuous line of hills that covered the road that the Ferndalians were using as a supply route. A single redoubt covered the lone gap in the hill line, hosting a pair of cannon aimed right down the road. The Comte was aware that it was a strong position, but he had a three-to-one superiority in Horse and his Foot doubled the number opposing him and he felt confident of the outcome of this contest.

The Hazards of High Office

 

Mankowski contemplates the loss of his ear

       Igor Mankowski slumped backward into his chair as Peter the Famished stormed out of the King's Private Chambers bellowing for his lunch. The searing pain in his right ear meant two things; one good, one bad. Good, that the King had not shot him between the eyes (like the last Minister of War), the King rarely missed and would have reloaded if he had needed to! Bad, that his right ear would forever have to be hidden by his wig.

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.