Huwl, 3rd Duke of Collysh, was relaxing and reading the Cwy'nt Chronicle. It was good to keep up with the news from the capital and Royal Court, even if he preferred life on his estates in the far west of Coftyr. Some clever quar had just demonstrated a steam powered boat, which went for almost two kilometers before blowing up. Huwl chuckled, cadier or faerf pulled barges were much more reliable and traditional. These scientists with their ideas were just going to cause problems. The fact that much of his fortune was from cadier and faerf breeding didn't colour his opinion at all.
He turned to the sporting pages to read about the beetle races. Guffnyll, this season's champion, seemed unbeatable. But with a wingspan of five point three meters and an impressive speed of 24 kilometers per hour, she'd hold the cups for a while. He'd have to talk to Baerchyl, his Fidwoggian beetle trainer, about purchasing some of Guffnyll's eggs.
"Daddy," his daughter P'trysha said from the floor, where she was busy surrounded by crayons and papers. Her plush pykpyk "Booboo" watched from atop a stack of story books.
"Hmmmm? What's that dearest?"
"I don't like my guards."
"What?!" Huwl exclaimed, putting down his paper. The rhyfler at the door looked decidedly concerned. "Have they been mean to you? I'll flog the whole lot of them!"
The guard clutched his musket a little tighter, and gulped. A bead of sweat trickled from his bicorne and down his snout.
The Princess laughed. "Silly daddy! The guards are very nice and play with me whenever I want. I meant I don't like their uniforms."
The rhyfler at the door visibly relaxed.
"But rhyflers in the Crymuster wear blue. Always have. It's... it's tradition."
The Princess climbed into his lap, a confection of lace, ribbons, and petticoats. "Oh poo! Lots of the Freeholds have their own uniforms don't they? I like this uniform better!" She handed him a drawing she had made of brightly coloured ranks of rhyflers attacking a castle.
Huwl gave it some deep thought, realizing that his cherished daughter was going to cost him a lot of money. "Well, let me send this picture to your uncle, the King, and ask his permission. Dukes can't just go around raising their own cawtrads, lest the King get nervous, and nervous Kings have their Executioner sharpening axes."
The drawing was promptly dispatched. Generals and Field Marshalls were consulted. Budgets were examined. A Royal Courier was sent with the Royal Warrant authorizing the change of uniform (at the Duke's expense) and renaming the cawtrad as "Princess P'trysha of Collysh's Lifeguard Infantry" with the young Princess as their first Honourary Syrnol-in-Chief.
Princess P'trysha jumped up and down, clapping tiny hands.
Duke Huwl sighed.
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| Bright yellow flower tufts contrast with the pink and add to the whimsy. |
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The Flower Guard
The weather had finally turned nice. Princess P'trysha was out walking in the castle gardens with her Nanny and Booboo in tow. A pair of rhyflers in the new uniform paced solemnly behind. It had been a particularly harsh cythwyn and the gardeners were already out trying to clean things up.
P'trysha spotted a tiny glimmer of bright yellow against the melting snow and dead foliage of the previous autumn. "Oh! Isn't it pretty!"
"Yes, Princess." stated Nanny, seeing a Teachable Moment. "That is called Sun-in-Snow, and is among the first flowers to emerge in the spring. It is ...."
"It mustn't get stepped on!" The Princess declared.
And that was how Master-Yawdryl Paerwyn came to find Rhyfler Dawfwyd standing patiently along the path, at attention, his musket at the slope.
Every year after the Princess would look for the first flower of spring and have a guard posted. It quickly became a Ceremonial Parade attended by visiting dignitaries, with the young Princess in her uniform first inspecting the Guard and then leading them into the gardens to march slowly along the paths until the bloom (already previously found by the gardeners and carefully marked) was spotted. Centuries later the PPCLI when not on campaign still mount the Flower Guard over the first blooms in the castle gardens in her memory.
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| I hadn't done troops marching at slope arms because it doesn't fit the First World War vibe, but I thought it fit with bicornes. |
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| Four different packs! |
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The Regimental Tea
General Aelfwyth-Snurkkin was visiting the castle to purchase a new cadier for playing polo. He was quite surprised while passing the garden to see a pair of veteran rhyflers, chests bedecked with campaign ribbons, sitting awkwardly at a small table drinking tea with a young girl and a host of stuffed animals. A Nanny and a Milwer supervised the pouring of tea, and the passing of the silver tray bearing moth cakes and delicate sandwiches cut into triangles.
Duke Huwl caught the visitor's look of surprise. "Ah, yes. I encourage it. I think it's educational for both parties. My daughter learns about their lives and clans in the villages. The rhyflers learn some table manners."
As the Princess got older and the table got higher and the court of stuffed animals smaller, she still had tea every day with her guards. It was her way of getting the pulse of the regiment. One day a week she would host the officers, and the following day she would host the Senior NCOs. Grizzled old Master-Yawdryls and Yawdryls were happy to sit with their young commander and tell her about their experiences while eating cake. The rest of the week she hosted the rhyflers, nervously attending tea according to a rota carefully managed by the Adjutant and Regimental Master-Yawdryl.
When Princess P'trysha was 16, much of the regiment was on campaign, stuck in muddy trenches, snouts drooping in despair, laying siege to the Baron of Ulvi. Learning of the plight of her rhyflers, her Uncles (one of the many things that she had learned during her teas was that any older Quar in one's village, not of one's immediate family, was called "uncle" or "auntie" as a sign of respect and affection), she set down the report with a firm "Something must be done!" She used her pocket money to have one of the biggest of the new steam lorries equipped as a tea wagon and accompanied it to the front. Morale boosted by hot tea, moth cakes, and fried worm sandwiches, the PPCLI soon carried a breach and brought about the surrender of the castle.
Through the long centuries of the Long War, the PPCLI has continued to observe Princess P'trysha's birthday with a regimental Tea Party wherever they are stationed. Dignitaries and Royalty are invited. There is a parade. Offerings of tea and moth cake are laid before her picture in the regimental shrine by the youngest rhyfler carefully watched over by the Master-Yawdryl. The band plays. There are games for the children of the garrison, and the original steam-powered tea wagon, it's paint fresh, and metal polished, comes tooting out of it's garage to give rides and, of course, serve tea.
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| Tea service and bottles just amp up the whimsy. |
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| Brush on gloss varnish for the bottle and tea pot |
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The Rhyfler Princess
Rather than retreating into his fortress and enduring a siege, the Count of Aerfwyn was disputing the advance of the Crymuster in open battle. He took up a position defending the iron mines, and associated foundries, that were the source of his wealth and the point of dispute with Coftyr.
18 year old Princess P'trysha had joined the expedition with her new steam-powered Regimental Aid Post, staffed by two doctors, four nurses, and the latest medical science could offer. After seeing it established beside the TeaWagon, and checking on the quality of the moth cakes, she rode her cadier forward to observe the coming battle.
Her rhyflers were easy to spot: blobs of pink among the swarms of blue. Some black coated mercenaries from Sleevin were leading the advance. The faint popping of distant musketry came to her ears as she saw the skirmishers enter the iron works.
A sudden thunderclap deafened them as a giant column of earth and rock thrust upwards. One of the mines had been packed with explosives and then set off under the Coftyran advance guard. An entire brigade was tossed away like a dish of beetles. The cadiers of the assembled staff reared and barked and carried away the less skilled riders. Before the debris had settled, hidden reserves launched themselves at the Coftyran center with the blatting of horns. Panic swept across the army. The rhyflers paused their advance, suddenly unsure. The black coated mercenaries were sure, and they ran.
Their panic infected the cawtrad behind them, who also ran. Princess P'trysha saw her troops wavering, the syrnol struck down by a flying rock. She dug her knees into her cadier and galloped towards the wavering pink ranks.
The Ensign was taking hesitant steps backwards, mindless discipline struggling in his mind with irrational fear. P'trysha sized the pink and purple regimental colours out of his grip and held them aloft.
"Must I face them alone?" she cried. "Stand fast my Uncles! Stand fast for your ancestors. Stand fast for me!"
A quick thinking musician blared out the Rally on his horn. All eyes were upon her. Master-Yawdryl Paerwyn stood beside her. "Shoulder arms!" He bellowed. With an order to follow the cawtrad shouldered arms and stood expectantly.
P'trysha drew her sword and pointed it towards the advancing enemy. "Princess P'trysha's Lifeguard Infantry will ADVANCE!" She nudged her cadier forward with out looking to see if they'd follow.
And they did.
A few hundred meters from the enemy she felt a touch on her knee. Master-Yawdryl Paerwyn looked up at her. "Best stop here ma'am. Let the kits go in front now."
The pink ranks marched past. Soon the Master-Yawdryl spoke again. "If'n you don't mind me sayin', ma'am, I think it's time we gave them a volley."
"If you think that's best, Master-Yawdryl. "
"Ma'am."
She raised her voice again. "Princess P'trysha's Lifeguards HALT!"
She paused, suddenly unsure. A seed of terror growing in her stomach. What, by all the Ancestors was she doing?
Paerwyn gave her a reassuring look. "You remember how I taught you? Volley by sections?"
"I... I... think so Master-Yawdryl."
"Good lass," he nodded to the approaching enemy ranks. "Now's as good a time as any. Away you go."
"LIFEGUAAARDS! Lifeguards will fire by sections!" 600 muskets made ready.
"PREEE-SENT!" 600 muskets lowered and took aim.
"Lifeguards, by sections, FIRE!" Like a machine the Milwers and Yawdryls took over, firing and reloading by alternating sections so that a continuous wall of fire and smoke threw death at the enemy.
Under their furious, disciplined musketry the enemy attack faltered and dissolved. Princess P'trysha's Lifeguard Infantry ceased firing, fixed bayonets, and as if on Review, advanced, trumpets playing.
The Count of Aerfwyn, his gambit played and lost, rode out with his staff, an Aide de Camp holding a white flag.
The pink ranks halted, and the Count stopped before them.
He doffed an enormously feathered bicorne in salute. "Who commands this wall of pink granite upon which all my plans are dashed in ruin?"
Master-Yawdryl Paerwyn whispered to her. "That'd be you ma'am. Go on now."
P'trysha rode her cadier through the ranks to meet the Count.
She lifted her own bicorne to return the salute. "That would be me. I am Princess P'trysha of Collysh. These are my Lifeguards."
The Count and his staff murmered in astonishment.
The Count recovered himself, and with grace presented the hilt of his sword to her. "Well then, you have both my surrender and my admiration, young lady."
After the battle, P'trysha found herself alone. The Yawdryls were taking care of things with calm efficiency and she was suddenly tired. Still covered in powder smoke, she slumped on a box and wiped away some tears while pondering a bullet hole through her bicorne.
A rhyfler approached slowly and coughed. "Erm... ma'am?" He shuffled his feet nervously.
P'trysha wiped her snout and sat up straight. "Dawfwyd isnt it?"
"Yes ma'am." He shuffled nervously. "Me 'n the lads, like.... well...."
"Yes?"
"Well, it isnae right young lassie bein' alone after fightin' a battle 'n all!" He suddenly blurted out, horrified that he had called the Princess "lassie." He carried on, addressing his boots. "An' well, me 'n lads was wonderin'... well..."
"Yes?"
"Would ye have tea wi' us ma'am? It ain't fancy cups in yon castle, but it's a proper brew an' all."
P'trysha laughed, and wiped her tears, and blew her snout. "Thank you, uncle Dawfwyd. I'd like that very, very much!"
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| The official Gwynt list allows two grenadiers per section. They get to modify their dice. |
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| I've used the busbies from spare Victrix Austrian Grenadier heads and stuck them on bare heads after appropriate trimming. |
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| Six barreled scatter guns are a unique Support Option. One piece 3d prints. |
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| I'm getting extra packs printed for them. |
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| My current favorite figure |
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| Officers. Caerten has gold lace on his bicorne and two collar pips. Is-Caerten has only one. Both have gold piping instead of yellow. |
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| NCOs. In the Gwynt list, both Yawdryls and Milwers get the Doru SMG. Which at short range should make up for the lack of a section LMG |
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| I had to add rank badges to tell them apart |
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I hadn't meant to build a force of the old fashioned looking Coftyran auxiliaries from Gwynt in their obsolete bicornes. But as soon as the files appeared on the MyMiniFactory Tribe and folks started showing their works in progress, I became enamoured by the cartoonish, comic operetta hats.
So I decided to lean hard into the whimsical part of the world of Quar and do a very traditional unit, in bicornes. Pink with purple facings and trousers seemed like a uniform a 7 year old princess might design. So naming them after a princess is a nod to another distinguished Canadian Army regiment, the Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry.
Tradition being important, I feel that Princess P'trysha of Collysh's Lifeguard Infantry would keep the uniform in memory of their beloved Princess, even in a modern age of airships, war tractors, and machine guns.
Painting them all as one big batch of 26 was a slog. There was a long stretch where I was lost in the "these look like rubbish" phase and struggled to find motivation. There was another long stretch of additional coats of pink too. So much pink. I almost caved to a safer course and painted them like the Prussian Fusilier Regiment No. 40; dark blue coat, with pink trousers and facings. But in for a penny, in for a pound.
That got me thinking about doing a whole series in different SYW uniforms. But I don't really paint just for display.
There are more I want to add to them. A squirrel handler naturally. A cook. A Medic. A musician and an ensign with regimental colours would be very appropriate I think. I hope Zombiesmith releases appropriately whimsical musicians, playing accordions or flugelhorns or something a bit silly. Building them into a full company will be something to think about.
In the meantime, I'm using a 1/48th scale kettengrad model as the basis for a tea wagon.
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| Watch this space for developments! |
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