The Quartermaster's Warehouse

Military supply warehouses were used not only for storing war materiel but also for housing the spoils of war!

Although the elves assisted Netheril in repelling the orcs, Netheril did not disband its military as a result; instead, it expanded year by year, supported, of course, by Giles Academy.

Every year, more than half of the graduating students entered the legions, becoming junior squad leaders or battle mages, with a mandatory service term of at least five years—a contract signed before enrollment.

After all, those capable of becoming spellcasters were certainly not lacking in intelligence, to say nothing of their strength; even if they only knew a trick or two, they were still superior to ordinary people and could significantly boost the overall strength of the legions.

As for why spellcasters were drafted as common soldiers rather than being tasked with research and climbing the magic tree, it was primarily because Netheril was poor and simply could not afford to support so many spellcasters.

Without elven funding, relying solely on Netheril's existing resources to develop a magic civilization within the human sphere was nothing short of a pipe dream.

The conditions were harsh: located in a remote northern region, the territory was small with no exploitable resources, and the weather was frozen for a third of the year. The commoners at the bottom struggled just to eat, let alone research magic.

After the vast majority of the orc main force was wiped out, the honeymoon between the elves and Netheril effectively ended. Naturally, the elven race was rife with internal contradictions, and many within their ranks held a negative view of supporting humans.

Of course, the main reason was Netheril's determination to develop its own magic civilization (primarily because elven magic was too difficult to learn, and Netheril happened to have found the Nether Scroll).

The elves took one look.

Oh?

This little brother is getting disobedient, so they cut off all international aid... er, support funding.

Instructors were recalled, documents were burned, and supplies were either moved away or destroyed on the spot!

Netheril was like a jilted young bride; the sweet nothings, the vows of eternal love, and the promised benefits all vanished into thin air.

This move by the elves nearly sent Netheril back to the Stone Age overnight.

Just as Netheril was about to descend into chaos, Concinnio ascended to the rank of Legend, using his immense power to suppress the unrest and successfully divert domestic tensions outward.

It was then that everyone realized there didn't seem to be any "major players" left on the continent; at least in the North, Netheril could finally be considered a "regional power"!

Following the Crown Wars and the orc invasions, the entire continent of Faerûn was in a state of extreme chaos. The elves were tearing each other apart, only to later realize that fighting was futile and switching to petty political infighting instead.

The orcs had been beaten back, their main forces largely shattered and scattered across Faerûn, unable to amount to anything more than bandits and highwaymen.

The dwarves had retreated into their caves, hiding in the hills or deep underground. It was said they also began to fracture and fight among themselves, though the dwarves lacked the destructive power of the elves—they didn't go around shattering the continent or altering geography at every turn, and their combat was relatively "gentle," mostly consisting of close-quarters brawling.

As for the other races, they were either dragged into the Crown Wars or ransacked by orcs. Every notable race had been embroiled in the conflict, and their high-tier combatants had been wiped out.

Under the protection of the elves, Netheril had managed to survive, not only preserving its strength but actually growing stronger.

With the "big shots" out of commission and nursing their wounds, it would have been a shame for a "little brother" not to take the opportunity to fish in troubled waters.

Expand the territory, earn some extra income...

Of course, one couldn't fight openly, or the "big brother" would certainly be displeased. Even while "big brother" was nursing his wounds, it would be easy enough for him to spare a hand to crush Netheril.

One couldn't leave behind any evidence, could one?

Land reclamation was a perfect excuse.

The legions didn't need to be disbanded; the academy students were simply sent out.

A large-scale scavenging group was officially established!

Yes, that's right—at the time, they were seizing land under the guise of scavenging.

Five years of academy study was generally enough. Talents would naturally stand out; for instance, Count Ioulaum and Hussein, who were now the most powerful and influential figures in Netheril, all grew up during that era.

With spellcasters leading the way, bandits and highwaymen were easily dealt with. Those who could be recruited were, and those who couldn't were eliminated. The spoils of war had to be turned in, but there was plenty of room for maneuvering—it mostly came down to one's own ability.

The diverse families and magical secret arts in Netheril today all originated from that time.

Although items of true value were "siphoned off," the meat at least stayed in the pot. Moreover, what Netheril needed at the time wasn't "high-tier" goods; ordinary swords, armor, and even abandoned baggage trains were what Netheril required.

Thus, the entire Netheril was essentially sustained by the legions. Beyond standard equipment, abandoned broken weapons, supplies, and damaged magitech devices from the battlefield were all hauled back to Seventon to be repaired, studied, and put back into service, effectively reviving a Netheril on the brink of collapse.

Netheril survived its most difficult phase by scavenging, and of course, the opportunity that laid the foundation for its later takeoff also emerged during this time.

Many humans fleeing from the interior, as well as tieflings, genasi, and other races, were "picked up" by Netheril...

Of course, this process might not have been harmonious, and it was never officially recorded; the relevant files were even ordered to be destroyed by Lord Concinnio...

Borne was not interested in this history; his goal was the "treasures" accumulated in the warehouse over the past two hundred years.

Yes, the very "spoils of war" brought back by the legions!

Do not underestimate these "spoils"!

Netheril survived the initial "magic wasteland" solely by weathering the storm with these "spoils."

Starting from nothing, going from zero to one—that was the hardest part.

Many people thought Netheril built its magic empire solely on the Nether Scroll, but without concrete reference points for comparison and experimentation, the knowledge on the scroll alone would never have led to development.

It just so happened that Netheril lacked those simple magitech devices—the products of magical industrialization. Truly high-tier magitech items were rarely lost, and even if damaged, they were recovered. Only low-tier magitech, or items that could be mass-produced, were not treated with such care.

These simple, low-tier magitech items were exactly what Netheril needed. Although elven magic and craftsmanship were too obscure and difficult for humans to grasp, the principles were the same. One must know that copying is far easier than innovating!

East District, Trading Market.

This was the largest trading market in Netheril and also the location of the military warehouses.

Even as the cold winter set in, the place remained bustling, with vendors of all sizes shouting their wares, including quite a few professionals and spellcasters.

Seeing Borne wearing the Giles Academy uniform, many merchants stepped forward to introduce their products. Borne felt a sudden surge of interest, having the illusion of visiting a market in his past life.

The goods for sale were mostly magical plants intended for basic spell experiments; given Borne's current level, a cursory glance was enough to judge their quality.

Most were of uneven quality, either poorly stored or having had their medicinal properties ruined during harvesting.

Borne shook his head inwardly; in the early stages of civilization, many industries developed in a barbaric fashion, which was inevitable.

However, at least now even ordinary people could generally distinguish between magical plants and perform simple processing, and although the techniques were as crude as could be, it showed that civilization was progressing.

The development of an early civilization, beyond relying on the elite, required a massive amount of human and material resources to support it.

After wandering around, Borne still managed to buy a few good things.

There were no scenes of wits and courage like in movies, where one would probe the other for a long time over an item; prices were marked beforehand. You marked it for what you thought it was worth; if the price was too low, you could only blame your own poor judgment, and if it was too high and wouldn't sell, it would just stay in your hands.

Of course, one could haggle, provided both parties reached an agreement.

After a lap, Borne arrived at the military warehouse. Upon showing the Lehman Trading Company emblem and verifying the information, he quickly entered.

Calling it a warehouse was an understatement; it was more like a department store, and there were quite a few people, including several spellcasters wearing robes.

Borne's arrival clearly attracted some attention, but upon seeing the Giles school uniform he was wearing, they merely chuckled. Of course, there were also those who wanted to try their luck and came over to greet him.

"Hello, do you need any help?"

Borne looked him up and down. A broker, huh? This profession really exists everywhere.

"Thanks, I'm just looking around to broaden my horizons."

The man then looked at the ring on Borne's hand, his expression changed, and he bowed slightly, whispering, "Apologies for the intrusion!"

He then turned and walked away.

"Wait..."

Seeing the man leave so decisively, Borne was quite surprised, so he called out to him, and the latter stopped.

"Are there any particularly strange items... um, things from other races..."

Hearing Borne's words, the man pondered for a moment, then pointed to the right, saying, "If you head in this direction, on the twenty-seventh shelf, there should be some collections that interest you."

"Oh, thanks."

As he spoke, Borne flicked his thumb, and a gold coin landed in the man's hand. Before the man could react, Borne walked directly in the direction he had pointed.

The man looked at the gold coin in his hand, then looked up at the departing back, and bowed slightly.

"There really are a lot of things..."

Borne looked around as he walked, feeling like he was gaining knowledge. He couldn't name ninety percent of the various items, and for some, he didn't even know their purpose. There were many duplicates, and at a glance, one could tell they weren't meant for human use.

Some still had residual magical auras. Borne picked one up to examine it; it appeared to be a fragment of some object. Interestingly, the patterns on it seemed to be some unknown magic circle, and even a small section of the pattern still had a faint flow of magic.

He put the fragment back and continued browsing. There were quite a few things he was interested in, but he had no intention of buying them.

He then arrived at the twenty-seventh shelf the broker had mentioned.

The items placed there were all short swords resembling daggers or large hammers.

"Dwarven?"

Borne picked up a short sword; it was unexpectedly heavy. He then tested the hammer next to it, which was difficult to lift with one hand.

One had to remember that Borne was a professional now; although he was a spellcaster, his physical fitness was far superior to that of an ordinary person.

Borne touched the edge of the short sword; although it had nicks, it was still very sharp. It was clear this was a "battle-hardened" weapon, yet it only had nicks and hadn't rolled.

Moreover, there were quite a few weapons like this, which showed that this type of weapon was very rare among the Dwarves.

"So that's how it is..."

It wasn't that Nether lacked Dwarven weapons; a large portion of Nether's current weaponry was purchased from the Dwarves. Especially after the Black Road opened, the weapons of the Danzor Dwarves completely crushed Nether's local weapons.

Borne had also seen the weapons of the Danzor Dwarves, and they were significantly worse than those in his hand. Perhaps these weapons were considered rejects by the Dwarves, not even worth the value of being melted down and reforged.

"Being treated like a sucker..."

Borne sighed slightly. If he didn't know the trajectory of history, he would also think that Nether had no future.

"That guy..."

Borne turned his head to look in the direction he had come from, then raised an eyebrow, glanced slightly upward, and muttered, "It seems the weapon business is quite profitable, but... now is not the time..."

He then continued to browse, and gradually discovered quite a few good things.

"Elemental Crystal Core."

"Is this dragon hide? It's actually white, from a Chromatic Dragon..."

"Good grief... there's even a severed limb here. No, wait, the crystal wrapping this is a seal. Hmm? This violent and chaotic feeling—is this a demon's arm?"

After putting down the sealed crystal, Borne turned around and walked away immediately.

When the warehouse manager saw Borne coming out empty-handed, he was quite surprised.

It wasn't that people didn't leave empty-handed, but Borne was the first to leave empty-handed on his first visit.

After exiting the door, Borne glanced back at the military supply warehouse, then strode away without looking back.

Giles Academy, Wizard Tower.

A lab assistant wearing mage robes had barely stepped into the room when he heard two hearty laughs ring out; he paused for a moment before pushing the door open to enter.

In his peripheral vision, a mirror image was slowly fading away, and the scene within the mirror looked like a warehouse, one that seemed familiar.

"My lord, the experiment is ready," the young assistant said with a slight bow, then turned to the side to bow again, "Greetings, Count!"

Count Ioulaum nodded slightly, "Valkyri, within the academy, I would prefer you to address me as Sir!"

"My apologies, Sir!"

Valkyri expressed his regret.