Booooooooom! Titus woke up from his slumber to incoming catapult artillery.
Booooooooom! The sound was piercing, and he had not yet finished the dagger.
"We're taking this fight to Servinsrad!" King Mao yelled as he prepared his armies. Washington and Bonaparte prepared their armies, and Plato brought Titus a set of armor.
"We are going to war, my friend. The dagger will have to wait, I'm afraid we will be in for a terrible day."
Servinsrad was just a day's march north of Grand Capital, but it was heavily guarded by the young men Cromwell managed to sway with his accursed March of Chaos. The March had not yet been released, but it was drawing close to being released. The armies clashed outside the gates just before daybreak.
Cromwell arrogantly strode out unto the battlefield as The Four Armies broke through the gates.
"You'll never be able to beat me. Your Gerneral is dead! The March of Chaos will reign!"
Titus was no warrior, but neither was he a novice to sword fighting. His training with Bonaparte was proving quite useful. He wielded the steel blade Bonaparte lended him with a grace not seen in generations. He cut through each soldier he encountered with ease, reveling in how well he was doing.
Mao was doing fine, but being the King of Power helps as well. He hacked away at the hoards of Cromwell's men with his sword, with its dragon-head pomel, and lead his men as they carved through Cromwell's men.
Bonaparte's men, as well as himself, were characteristically dancing through the battlefield with their long, slender steel sabers. Bonaparte's blade had a pomel with the head of a lion and was at least half a blade longer than any other.
Washington was a soldier. He lead his men as if they were his own family. His blade was long and thick, able to parry the blows from Cromwell's berserkers. His blade had the head of an eagle, similar to the eagle that overlooks the southern mountains.
Plato may have been old, but he could pack a punch. His blade's pomel had a wolf head, as well as being very short to fit his older stature. He wielded magic in one hand, sword in the other, and blew through Cromwell's men as if they were porcelain dolls.
They all fought with vigor and youthfulness, trying to gain an upper hand against The Cult. The Cult was viscous, striking low and swinging craftily. The Kings were having trouble dealing with them, but the were able to battle through to Cromwell.
Titus, Mao, Bonaparte, Washington, and Plato quickly followed Cromwell into the upper levels of Servinsrad's stronghold as Cromwell's army began to dwindle.