Marcus

"But are you not my kin?!" He cried. His outburst unusual and all around him shuddered as he uttered breath. "Are we not the mightiest fighters?!". His men were brow beaten and worn, but something stirred. Something new. Encouragement? A replacement of mixed emotions to pure smouldering truth. Could they enter the battlefield again? With Marcus at the helm? They knew this were possible. They knew this was destined to be. A few days/weeks of rest and preparation and they would come back and take the land once more. No longer a possibility. Now an inevitability. But only with Him.