On that battlefield, dyed golden by the setting sun yet subtly revealing a few hints of solemnity and unease, an elderly man in a simple robe, with a kind and resolute face, held a book and slowly walked before the soldiers who were about to embark on their journey. His pace was neither hurried nor slow, each step seemingly touching the heart of every warrior, bringing an indescribable peace and strength.
"My children." He began, his voice warm and deep, like a ray of sunshine in winter, piercing through the cold wind and reaching into everyone's hearts, "At this moment that will decide our fate, we have gathered here by the will of God! God grants us happiness, and we respond with devotion!"
