Titus and the kings groaned as the carriage that took them to the Silver Mountain stopped. Titus looked up to see the massive mountain that shone like silver.
"We'd better get to work soon. Even with magic, this project will take many years," King Mao commanded.
"He is right, the magic required for this is far greater than any I have used," Plato replied.
As King Bonaparte, Mao, and Plato began work on the Grand Capital, King Washington pulled Titus to the side.
"We have to create a container for Cromwell's soul. The war will kill the land and we can't sit here and allow the March to destroy another one. Cromwell is cunning, brutal, and charismatic. He will not stop if we beat his Cult. He will raise another one. We must be ready. That is why you and I will create a weapon to contain his soul. The weapon will be known as the Feathered Dagger."
"Ok. Makes sense. BUT WHY THE HELL DO YOU NEED A DIPLOMAT FOR FORGING A DAGGER?" Titus furiously responded.
"We need you because you match the description of The Man of Hope. A man capable of defeating evil and inspiring others. A man respected by all. That is why you are here. You are supposed to be this 'Man of Hope' according to King Plato, but you have yet to prove yourself. I live for freedom, and thus my sword will be used so you can forge the dagger that will contain and enslave Cromwell's soul."
Titus pondered his role and choices. "Did I really leave my family to fight in some lunatic's war? Did I drop everything I had to be called Regent?" Titus was still weary from his travels, so he laid down on a soft patch of grass next to the great mountain.
As the years passed, Titus honed his skills with King Bonaparte. Bonaparte lended him a steel saber and they began to train. Bonaparte trained him better than any one of his knights or soldiers. They trained, Titus becoming a master at the blade, rivaling even Bonaparte himself. They trained as the city was being built, each skill growing with every passing year.
After every training session, he went to study with Plato. They had grown close, Plato seeing Titus as a son, and a friend. They laughed at each other's jokes and drank every night until they couldn't lift the bottle.
He was also forging the Feathered Dagger with King Washington. Each time they thought they had it, they didn't, and the process took longer than anticipated.
The building took twenty years to complete. In that time, Cromwell and the Cult where becoming stronger. Mao, Bonaparte, and Plato were weakened by the magic output to build this city. But Titus was quiet. He thought of his wife and children. He thought of how they must have their own wives and families. He needed to protect them. He was fighting for them to keep their lives. He was their only hope.