Legate Aelius Horatius Servius read the orders with increasing incredulity. 10,000? 10,000 heavy infantry. He dropped the scroll and leaned back in his seat and rand a hand over his face. He felt a scar he had earned during the final years of the first war with Carthage. It went horizontally across the bridge of his nose and to the far edge of his right cheek. He felt the stubble on his face and knew there were flecks of gray, as well as his short dark brown hair. He leaned forward over his desk and read the orders a final time. His army was garrisoned in a small village about 2 days from Sicily. From there it would be another week to Syracuse. Horatius guessed that since they had no Calvary and only infantry, they would be a month at most, 3 weeks at least. The Legate sighed and put away the orders and went to tell his officers.
 *** 
After 2 days of travel, they had crossed over into Sicily. It was a beautiful Island, the sea was Turquoise Blue, the white caps rising momentarily as the waves crashed into the rocks below. The third night, the Legion made camp and Horatius called for his officers. He had not yet told them of the enemy they were facing or it's size. They entered his tent, showing their signs of respect, before seating themselves. He sighed and said grimly, "We are travelling to Syracuse to defend it, 10,000 Carthaginians are marching toward it." The officers looked at each other nervously, but kept silent. Horatius continued "It seems my Uncle has been boasting to the Senate of my skill and they seem fairly confident that I will pull the greatest feat of military genius out of my ass." Several of them smiled, others did not. "The only positive thing I see of this situation is that they have no Calvary, which will most definitely improve our chances of survival, but not by much." He looked around at his officers, "In the first war, Carthage used mercenaries from the lands they controlled, they will almost undoubtedly do so again. But the problem with mercenaries is that they only fight for coin, and if they feel a battle is a lost cause or are scared enough they will abandon their employers." Horatius rose, as did the officers, "We leave first light tomorrow." 
 ***
A week of traveling, the sunny weather remained ever present. They crested a hill and there stood Syracuse, looking battered and worn, the signs of a recent siege everywhere and panic rose inside of Horatius. Was he too late? He then spotted the banner of a fellow Legate and his worries subsided, replaced immediately with questions. He called for a messenger and told him he wished to talk to the Legate. The soldier nodded and hopped on a horse and rode off.