The Marquis de Gonsalvo of the Gallispan Army had every reason for satisfaction.
The remnants of the Alzheimer rearguard had at last fled before him and run to the refuge of the small, fortified town he espied on the river. Their last encounter had knocked the Alzheimer fusilier regiment apart and their musketeers had taken grevious damage as well. So far as he knew, apart from whatever third-rate garrison troopers the Alzheimers had in the town (what was it's name again? Schnitzelburg probably, heaven only knew what that was supposed to mean in their barbaric tongue!) that those survivors of the rear-guard would be hard-pressed to man the firtifications.
He anticipated a short seige. Perhaps the govenor of the town would request a parlay after his honour had been satisfied by a brief bombardment?
It would be best if that were the case; he knew the marshall begrudged the time it would take to overpower any obstacle. He would hang back as an army of observation whilst de Gonsalvo conducted the seige operations. A kindly uncle to be sure.
The Marshal, de Gonsalvo and Brunetti, his chief engineer would talk later about what front of the fortress to open seige lines against. He touched his heels to his horses' flanks - he was hungry and wanted to see what Joachim had laid out for lunch at his pavillion. He would invite Uncle along.
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