The breeze from the Mediterranean Sea tousles Marcus’s greying brown locks. He stands on his perch on the castle. His ship leads the fleet to an island on the horizon. The island, Ithaca Greece. The final island for the Roman Empire to conquer. Ithaca’s army has defended the island against Rome since the army first started to push through Greece. And Rome has not been able to make it to the shores.

His eyebrows are furrows and his lips etched into a scowl at the sight of the blasted island. After his latest conquest in Numidia, he was only able to be in Rome for a matter of weeks before the Emperors sent him on yet another conquest. He simply wanted to be home. But the blood thirsty Emperors want the Roman Empire to expand as much as possible.

His soldiers are ready for the battle. All of them dressed in armor and wielding their weapons. Marcus dressed in his own armor. With his red cloak across his shoulders and flowing behind him. His sword at his waist.