On the flanks of the dunes, the frightened bells rang from the fortress of Dunkirk, the first watchtower had been reduced to ashes, the rocket ships of the English began to set fire from the direction of the port, and a fiery snake pounced on the outer walls of the castle along the thatched spires of the houses, shaking the air like a bamboo.

Amid the roar of arrows, the English began to establish positions in the mud, the neighing of horses shattered the peace of the fortress, the sea continued to hear a sharp roar, the walls were filled with indistinct shouts, swords and fire, and the roar of the leap was like a lute song, and it was played merrily.

Count Baldwin was very pleased with the performance of the fleet, and what made him suspicious was Rodrigo's order: to create despair.

In order to achieve the maximum intimidation effect, the first round of attacks destroyed most of the port facilities, but only to ignite a large enough fireworks?

The noble Boulogne's news of his father's death had affected his strategic judgment, but an afternoon of rage had made it clear to him the immediate consequences: the Count of Flanders would come for revenge.

The scarlet cloak swept the perimeter of Dunkirk, and the poor defenders in the city were already dying, but the English did not attack, and the Spaniards left only a shield wall to watch these "Dunkirk prisoners", and then the torrent began to spread eastward, directly facing where Bruges was.

The terrain around Dunkirk is dominated by harsh northerly winds, while the white sand dunes are protected by the moorland of the south. Almost half of the flat land on the seaward side of the town was submerged, and this water area was the gateway between the English and their fleet, and warships and transports were constantly lowering their boats, and supplies such as timber were hauled ashore. The English march was in dire condition, and without the fleet to transport the baggage, the march would have overwhelmed them, and the task of filling the ravines and building bridges was exhausting the troops.

The rest had to be done in half a day, because the next thing was the fight for survival.

When the Earl of Lincoln finally entered the tent, Rodrigo had finished drawing the formation and was discussing something with the white-armored and red-robed Alva Knight.

"I've surveyed the land." The Spaniard said to Alva in an unquestioning tone, "The Flemish people will die here." ”

"My lord!" Baldwin couldn't hold back any longer, "Open your eyes, we're sleepy, we're in a desperate situation, and if we don't get on the ship and leave immediately, I'm afraid this will just become our own burial place!" ”

"Have you read Alexander's biography?" Count Rodrigo suddenly raised his head and asked with a smile on his face.

"What?"

After walking out of the camp, Baldwin felt like he was in a dream, he couldn't imagine that this Spaniard would actually fight according to books! I really don't know how he got his reputation in Wales over the years. Baldwin glanced at the Welsh mercenaries, who were still elated and unaware of the impending disaster, and showed a helpless look.

The English army was elite, especially the sailors of London, who had no problem carrying out their orders, and their leader was Harding, the son of Ansgar, a newly rising fleet officer who not only arranged his own army in order, but also drafted all the orders for Count Rodrigo.

The Flemishites arrived later than expected, but on an extremely large scale, a full eight thousand!

Their cavalry numbered almost thirty tenths, while the English had less than eight hundred.

Luckily, this battlefield wasn't suitable for horseback riding—Baldwin thought to himself as he looked at the horde of fear-mongering Flemish heavy horses across the street.

But he soon realized that something was wrong, and while in his tent the night before, Rodrigo had drawn himself a picture of Alexander's battle of Issus, which was quite similar to the situation facing the English today, except that there was no river. In any case, this narrow front limited the number of troops to be fed, and the width of the archers and infantry could almost fill most of the front, and the Flemish forces, although numerous, could only line up in three lines, and the number of people engaged with their own side at one time was not too large, which seemed to be a good omen.

What Baldwin didn't expect was that Rodrigo's final choice was not Macedonian, but Persian—the cavalry was placed on the beach near the sea, and the dunes were lined with archers and infantry. Finally, similar to Darius, the Spaniard also placed a group of Peterborough militia in the direction of the swamp, seemingly to be used to harass the enemy cavalry.

In contrast, the main cavalry of Robert of Flanders was showing off its might opposite him, the flowing black armor was thick and turbulent, bringing suffocating fear, these steel-clad warriors were the essence of Flanders and the Empire, behind them were the squeezing of bones and the promise of countless gold and silver, an army of conquest, not a funeral parade.

Baldwin could see the will of the other man in the cavalrymen in the long-sleeved chain mail, and at this moment, Rodrigo's voice came from the wind:

"Today we dedicate the whole kingdom to God...... Today we put an empire on the edge of the sword! ”

On the hills of the left flank of England, the Welsh were cheering, and their Earl continued to say something, but Baldwin could not hear what was being heard.

As soon as the Flemishians saw the terrain of the left flank of England, they abandoned the idea of placing cavalry there, and even if the heavy horses' hooves set foot on that high ground, they would lose momentum before the spears could be engaged, so that the sacred armor could not protect them.

"Alexander of Flanders......" Baldwin muttered in a ridiculous voice, Issus, the cursed name, the beach where the Thessalians were bloodied, and I hope our cavalry can match those Persians.

But what's the use? Right wing! Will my right flank be able to hold back those brutes covered in iron?

The sand dunes blocked the view, and Baldwin couldn't see the other wing of the Welsh, but he knew that the Spaniards and his knights were there to rest.

"The lion went into the cage." On the top of the dunes, the Count of Flanders commented happily that he could not believe his good fortune, that the English were trapped between the moors and the sea, and that, according to the flag on the fort, Dunkirk had not yet fallen, and the enemy had put himself in a desperate situation.

"Attack!" A continuous line of slaughter began to march towards Baldwin's position, like a raging griffin, eager to tear through the iron armor of the enemy and devour the tender raw flesh.