Tarnished felt as though he had forgotten something.
He could not say what, exactly. It was like running his fingertips through flowing sand: he could feel it, yet could not grasp a thing. He furrowed his brow and thought hard for a full three seconds, then... gave up.
"Oh well. If I can't remember it, it must not be important." Tarnished was very good at making peace with himself, especially when thinking was involved. He tossed that tiny worry aside like garbage, rubbed his hands together, and threw himself enthusiastically into his work.
The top priority, naturally, was preparing for the campaign into the Land of Shadow.
Battle cries shook the training grounds amid rolling clouds of dust. Nepheli Loux had fully entered "war maniac" mode, drilling the remnants of the Redmanes, the Stormveil veterans, the new recruits, and those undisciplined yet individually formidable Recusants until they hardly knew whether to laugh or cry.
Tarnished ducked his head and wisely refrained from interrupting. Specialized work like training troops belonged in the hands of specialists. He had other important duties-logistics, for instance, and a little... art of explosion.
Thanks to the batch of "excellent laborers" captured from the Mohgwyn Dynasty, production lines for every kind of explosive pot were running at full speed. Fire pots, lightning pots, magic pots, sleep pots, and Rancor Pots had all seen their output multiply several times over. Tarnished did not care how people in the Lands Between used to wage war. He intended to see aerial bombardment through to the end.
Whenever he imagined those elegant, violent dragons spreading their wings under Lansseax's leadership, with the grenadiers riding them showering the Hornsent of Belurat, Tower Settlement with little heart-decorated gifts, Tarnished could not help smiling.
And just as his imagination ran wild, another piece of