Border Area, Dragon Valley.
It was now late at night. The news that the Poison Tail Tribe had submitted and sworn allegiance after a round of "persuasion" had already reached the ears of the Red Iron Dragon. The details had also been relayed to Galos by Iron Dragon Solrog through their blood kin link.
"Very well done."
Galos did not hesitate to offer praise, responding on the psychic level.
Ever since the Iron Dragon became a Mind Mage, his thinking had grown more meticulous and his actions more thorough. His role as governor of the Molten Iron Tribe was becoming increasingly competent, practically becoming Galos's "external brain." Most of the tedious tasks Galos didn't want to waste time on were simply handed over to Solrog.
"Same as before, break up the Poison Tail Tribe."
"Sort the snake-man warriors, mages, shamans... Assign them to different warbands according to their various traits, and only keep the ordinary snakefolk without combat skills."
Galos instructed.
