Brutus watched the newest attack from the so-called "loyalists" from his command tower overlooking the battlefield. His siege engines had done good work, tearing holes in the ranks over and over again. The battered forces were currently engaging his troops, hoping to strike a meaningful blow of some kind. Brutus shook his head, turning back to the map in front of him. According to his reports, the 37th was still at least a day out, maybe more. Brutus scowled, looking back at the ranks of exhausted men slogging through a battle. If only he had more men, then the battle would have been over when it began. He growled in frustration. What was taking those men so long? He watched Marcus lead a massive charge, shattering the enemy line and sending them into full retreat. If only all men in the world were like him, Brutus thought. Then everything would work out just fine. He walked down and met Octavius by the barracks, the sea of exhausted men parting before him. Octavius nodded as he approached. "A few more casualties, but otherwise we remain well off." Brutus nodded, then turned and walked back to his command tent. He had plans to change, and letters to write.