Northern did not deem it fit to concern himself with the matter of the princes' return. Frankly, what did that have to do with him.
He had much more important things to worry about.
And that thing was how to attack the Empire.
He was mid-swing when he stopped and stared at all his clones moving about the pit. Some carried the armors he had forged, each one taking flight and transporting a set out of the cavern. Others hammered at anvils, sparks scattering off the dark metal.
The hammer in Northern's hand was one he'd forged using the Sundered Crucible talent. A prototype, designed so he could replicate it for all of himselves to use while they worked.
But it was not the armor that Northern was currently thinking about.
He needed an army.
