Your knees ache as you press them against the dirt. "Too long have I stayed here" the thought sparkles. Old soldiers count on your able hand. "We are weary and our numbers few" their mind is brought to you on a breeze. And you raise your eyes to catch sight of white clouds, that reach down and caress your bruised face. Let's "cry «havoc» and let loose the dogs of war" the words come to your ear as a whisper. "Your strike will not come gently upon your enemy", you hear and you stand as the voice grows into a rumbling torrent. "Once again will you meet them fearlessly. You need to be seen from afar, for many are the able and brave that still fled to seek shelter and tend to their wounds. Mount again and let the two edged sword be seen by those who would fight. Braid your hair and put on your chest plate, let your armor shine fiercely on the battlefield among the shattered chariots and broken bows lingering as the crows mark the skies upon the fallen.