Near the ruins of Kalisbrook at Fort White, Edgar was meditating on his own, certainly not about the ruins of the Jute kingdom on the island or the giant petrified dragon bones. The birds and beasts hiding in the nearby moors should be well suited for a grand autumn hunt - King Etheled, Count Tostig, and King Harold have been on the island for decades, and may have hunted to supply their armies—but Edgar was not interested in the feathery countryside at the moment, and his eyes were only on the sea.

To the north is Newport, the port of Sussex in England, the narrow channel has become a natural danger since ancient times, and when Edgar heard the Earl of Northumbria talk about the history of his predecessors hiding from powerful enemies on the island, he was not very convinced - the great Canute would let the legitimate king of England go because of a shallow water?

Perhaps the island offered only an illusory and fragile sense of security, as his great-grandfather, Ethelred, eventually escaped from the island.

The English Channel seems to be a bigger myth, at least until now, it has not given Britain a sense of security, and as for the past life, Edgar is well aware that the real myth belongs to the Royal Navy of that era.

The desolate sound of a horn came from the direction of the camp, and Edgar could tell from the beat of the wind that it was a recruit marching and rehearsing, similar to the soldiers who marched to the brightly colored regimental flags of his previous life. It's just that in those days, Her Majesty's well-trained soldiers could wear raincoats to maintain a company formation and wade through deep streams with tight spacing, and now the way those recruits are trained can make Edgar break out in a cold sweat.

The archers were the most troublesome, but the most numerous, more than 8,000 people, and the longbow was not Martini-Henry, and the front width of the archers was much wider than that of rifled gunners, which meant that in addition to the first two columns, a large number of archers had to be placed in the back rows away from the first line, and in this position an archer could not even see his target clearly, while thousands of archers would only waste six or seven thousand arrows in a minute. Moreover, on the battlefield, excessive distance and width mean that the possibility of disjointed command increases exponentially, and any subtle change of situation can trigger an accident in another position, such examples abound from Marathon to Waterloo.

The armored Theon was no exception, and although they were better than the archers when they dismounted, once on the battlefield, the heavily armored infantry was left with only the limited vision provided by the steel helmet shield, and their sight and hearing were greatly reduced, and the military order could be transmitted to an iron armor with only a faint roar, and if they opened the guard, a javelin, an arrow, or even a flint could cause fatal damage.

The battlefield is a combination of all chaos, and a knight who can stand upside down and dance in armor in the arena and the court will be swept into a whirlpool of neighing and blood and mud splashing when he arrives on the battlefield, losing all flexibility and freedom, and every move may be accompanied by great pain. Anyone in this hell will quickly lose all other consciousness. On more than one occasion, Edgar was helpless to find that his cavalry would inevitably lose control after a successful charge, and let the offensive disintegrate into scattered fox hunts - the loose reins were simply powerless to overcome the acceleration of the mounts in the frenzy of battle, and hundreds of galloping horses inevitably influenced each other to go crazy in groups, and during the training in the Bebanburg barracks twenty years ago, he conducted a cruel formation drill with eight hundred horsemen on horsepower, and set an example himself, and controlled them with the princes of the north. That's where St. Albans came in. But now he found that the newly recruited cavalry had lost the synergy of the past, and that they were full of equestrian, bloody Southern Sein, who experimented with war based on the experience of hunting, and some of the craziest guys even reminded him of the Yankee cowboys: the kind of men who could destroy large formations with just a dozen or so. The Norman cavalry of Carnarfon in Wales were better disciplined, and the Normans of East Redding, Yorkshire, who were often drawn by the Earl of Northumbria to deal with the Argyle clan northwest of Hadrian's Wall, were now better adapted to harassment in the frontier wilderness.

If only Rodrigo were here, Edgar sighed, Robert Mallett was in good shape, quite brave as Prince Pabenheim and Rupert, but after all, he was not as good as the Earl of Pembroke and could not bring out a real "Iron Cavalry". In addition, the power of the Mercia is too large, although the current attitude towards the royal family is quite respectful, but Edgar still has to think about the future, he naturally does not want to appear ungrateful in the eyes of the vassals, so it is better for a successful Mallett not appear on the flank of Mercia, lest the royal family have nothing to reward in the future, and create a "Tottenham" Henry. (Henry Percy, "Tottenham", see Shakespeare's Henry IV)

Time was passing monotonously, and it became clear that Westminster would intervene in the Normandy succession dispute, and a storm would evolve towards a storm, and before the fog on the other side of the Channel had lifted, the port of Dover had long since shed its cloak of peace, and as the warships returned to the building, it looked like a wild boar with its vicious fangs.

Captain Edward, who was wearing a sweat-soaked green robe and a Saxon knife hanging from his waist, was in his ear the usual vendor of Frankish glass beads was gone, and the fishmonger carrying the heavy sturgeon shiny like steel knives was still busy.

In the familiar large house, he saw a gecko hurrying over the pale white wall, and just as his attention was being drawn to it, the armory officer came out.

"Hello...... Lord Andreas. The large body of the armory officer immediately covered the gecko, and Edward felt that the other man was not in a good mood, so he dismissed the urge to correct the other party.

"I wish you good health, my lord."

"Your file...... Not...... Sign here. ”

Edward wrote his name in such a dignified posture that the fat Royal Ordnance Officer didn't even glance at the scroll.

"Excuse me, where can I hire a doctor? Or, a carpenter. Edward finally tried to ask for manpower.

"I can find you a priest." The armoured officer seemed to suddenly remember something, and quickly wrote a note, handed it to his squire, and then waved his hand impatiently, indicating that the meeting was over.

What is the use of a pastor for me?

The next day, when he finally arrived at his battleship, he was immediately dumbfounded by the two eight-pounder guns on the dock.

"How much do these weigh?" He asked in a loud voice.

"At least two thousand pounds." A capable Dane replied, and then he introduced himself, "I'm Ingelberg, the first mate on board." ”

Edward had now taken out his letter of appointment, and the crowd began to whisper: "The Lord is coming." ”

"It must be a mistake, we can't take these guys with us." One of the gunners said that the two long-barreled cannons did look much more domineering than the stubby mortars of the "neighbors", and they did not know that they would serve such "treasures" before they came.

Edward heard the other man's Irish accent and beckoned to him, "Go talk to the dockmaster and borrow him a crane." ”

Seeing that the guy immediately ran excitedly to the place where the horses were being hoisted, and couldn't shout back, Edward shook his head, he knew that this stunned young man was doomed to fail if he went so empty-handed.

At this time, another unfamiliar voice came from my ears: "Excuse me, is this the 'Earl of Glamorgan'?" ”