Finally the troops are moving, for months they have sat around doing nothing and growing fat...now, they are off to war. Morale is at an all time high for the promise of plunder and spoils has made the men eager to get started. Pollus, for one, is glad to be leaving this cold, wet little island behind, with the thought of seeing his homeland again.
Cohort after cohort prepares to board the transports that will take them to Gaul and victory. The ground seems to shake under the weight of thousands of hob-nailed sandels. And the air rings with the blast of the hundreds of cornicens. Victory must follow such an army as this, surely?