Return and an Aside

William watched the group with a bitter smile as they were swept up in the temptation of Adamantine, resorting to every trick from threats to bribes. As expected, wealth moved people's hearts. Even "loyal and honest" Dwarves could barely resist—or perhaps they had no resistance at all. Was Adamantine really that alluring?

William made no comment on Sunderland's flattering overtures. In truth, he didn't want to hand over the Adamantine. His Yanling Saber depended on it, after all. What's more, he had damaged Phinia's Frost Giant Axe. After subtracting what he needed for the saber, there should be enough left to make the half-giantess a new battleaxe.

William called out several times to stop the four from arguing. With a false smile, he said, "Have you all forgotten where this Adamantine came from?" He pointed into the cave. "The Kobolds couldn't have carried it in from somewhere else, could they?"

The four froze, then followed William's pointing finger and stared blankly toward the Kobold cave. "Gods above! Aerefen, goddess of elven agility and thieves! Could this be an Adamantine mine?!" "Oh, damn it! Those hell-bound vermin! We might be rich! Hahaha!" The four "greedy" fellows cheered and rushed into the cave, launching an "attack" on its walls.

Singers's pickaxe, Torg's warhammer, Aelf's elven rapier (?), and Sunderland—who no longer bothered to conceal that she was a Mage—pulled out an ancient Spellbook and converted her fifth-level Spell Slot into [Transmute Rock to Mud], then cast it at the wall. The fifth-level arcane spell could normally affect two cubic areas, each twelve feet along a side. But the iron ore in the wall reduced its effect by three-quarters, and two streams of sand and gravel poured down at once, leaving two pits more than three feet across.

With [Bull's Strength], [Cat's Grace], [Owl's Wisdom], and [Darkvision] cast on herself, Sunderland looked just like a scavenger rummaging through a garbage heap as she searched the sand and gravel for Adamantine. The Dwarves' torches nearby badly interfered with her vision, so the female magistrate had to cancel [Darkvision] and cast two [Light] spells on either side of herself instead. A streak of purplish-blue light flashed across her pupils. Sunderland pushed aside the ore and sand around her, revealing a piece of Adamantine the size of an egg. She held her "treasure" aloft and laughed loudly. Soon after, the female magistrate found two slightly smaller pieces as well.

Sunderland's haul spurred the other three diggers on. They attacked the wall even more frantically, but things didn't go their way. The two Dwarves searched until they were exhausted but couldn't find another scrap of Adamantine. Aelf had even "tried to steal a chicken only to lose the rice": her delicate elven rapier had no effect on the wall, and the force of her strikes snapped it in two. The little one ran back to William with a crestfallen look, clutching her beloved weapon and grieving alongside Phinia, who was "mourning" her own broken axe.

Singers and Torg reluctantly gave up their futile efforts. Sunderland, now out of [Transmute Rock to Mud] spells, was satisfied and stopped turning over the sand and gravel pile, which she had already searched several times. Their haul of Adamantine wasn't very large—except for William's—but they had confirmed that this was an Adamantine-bearing lode, which was wonderful news. The group began arguing fiercely over who had the rights to the mine.

As outsiders, William wisely announced that his family of three would give up their claim to the mine. He had no desire to be tied down in the little town of Mirabar, and Aelf reluctantly withdrew from the contest as well. As compensation, the Elf received the Dwarf's fist-sized piece and Sunderland's egg-sized piece of Adamantine as hush money. The two smaller pieces Sunderland had found went to William's group of three. Singers and Torg would handle the work of forging the Adamantine weapons, while Sunderland would provide the flux.

In principle, Sunderland, Singers, and Torg would each receive a thirty-percent share of the mine. The remaining ten percent would be paid as tax to the Glimmerstone Council. Of course, if the Council didn't notice, that ten percent would go toward public expenses.

As for the lord's laws, "Capital, with a fifty-percent profit, will take risks; with a hundred-percent profit, it will trample every human law; with a three-hundred-percent profit, it will commit any crime, even risking the gallows." That great man's words applied in another world too, especially to a business that required almost no investment.

Thrilled at their unexpected treasure, the group sealed the cave entrance, then thoroughly cleared out the monsters nearby. Even the two Carrion Worms that had survived by luck a few days earlier failed to escape the group's "murderous hands." Before leaving, Sunderland, now with her Spell Slot restored, cast [Transmute Mud to Rock] on the rubble at the entrance, completely sealing the Kobold nest. She then concealed it with magic.

Their return journey, usually dull, felt much lighter after their unexpected discovery, though the gloomy darkness of the underworld always weighed on people's hearts. When they reached the surface and saw the vast sky, everyone felt relieved. William felt his spirits lift, and the little girl shouted in excitement. Phinia also felt a little less upset about her weapon. The silly woman had been brooding over the loss of her Frost Giant Axe the whole time. Even William's promise to forge her a new Adamantine battleaxe did little to ease the half-giantess's sorrow, much to the man's distress, since he was the one responsible.

With Adamantine for his saber, William began learning Dwarven smithing from old Singers. In truth, most of Faerun's smelting technology remained at the most primitive bloomery stage. Since Dwarves were naturally strong and loved hammering metal, they could almost all produce fairly high-quality steel through repeated forging, whether they knew what they were doing or not. Of course, a few exceptional master smiths had learned methods such as finery forging or co-fusion steelmaking. But those masters rarely passed on the secrets they had discovered over centuries—not even to their families or apprentices.

This wasn't because Dwarves selfishly hoarded their knowledge. They hoped young Dwarves would uncover those secrets for themselves as they grew older. Discovering a new metalworking technique was the greatest affirmation and encouragement an artisan could receive. The older generation didn't want to rob young Dwarven smiths of that joy; they were happy to watch their children excitedly shout as they "reinvented a new smelting method." Though well-intentioned, this practice had indeed held back the development of metallurgy across Faerun.

Of course, in certain mysterious Mage towers, metalworking techniques had already reached the point of altering metals at the atomic level. But this did nothing to solve the overall backward state of metallurgy throughout the world.

Moreover, most smiths preferred to seek out better materials rather than improve smelting techniques—Adamantine, Mithral, Cold Star Iron, and the like. With little effort, they could use these materials to make weapons beyond imagining, provided they knew how to handle these special "treasures."

The same was clearly true in other fields. Take martial arts, for example: the level of martial skill rose through competition. If two enemies faced off and one gained an advantage by studying combat techniques, the other would be at a disadvantage. To make up for it, he would train even harder, perhaps surpassing his opponent. The first man would then find a way to improve his own skills to regain his advantage, and the cycle would repeat. This was the most direct reason martial arts advanced.

The main enemies of Faerun's warriors were the monsters found everywhere. Among them, humanoid monsters about the same size as or smaller than humans—such as Goblins, Kobolds, and Gnolls—were generally primitive and savage. Human warriors didn't need to study any special combat techniques to face them. With decent armor and some battle experience, they could defeat or even crush them without any particular skill.

Against large monsters like Ogres and Trolls, the sort that could "overwhelm ten techniques with one blow," even the most refined martial arts were useless in the short term. Clever tactical teamwork could help, or there were simpler, more direct strategies, such as using magic. Whether direct-damage spells or support spells that enhanced one's abilities, magic was far more effective—and easier—than spending years or even decades studying martial arts.

In fact, with careful nurturing, most ordinary people in Faerun had the aptitude and talent to become spellcasters, as long as they weren't too dim-witted. The Weave treated everyone fairly, aside from the obstacles and restrictions the Goddess of Magic had deliberately put in place. The real factor limiting someone's ability to become a spellcaster was resources: the resources consumed as a spellcaster grew were astonishing.

To put it in sociological terms, "the relations of production are determined by the productive forces." Since society's overall level of production was low, the resources available to support spellcasters were limited. To make the best use of them, elite education was essential. Only those with exceptional talent or extraordinary luck had the chance to become powerful spellcasters.

Under normal circumstances, a successful Mage spent most of her time in her Mage tower or laboratory, studying the principles and knowledge of the Arcane or some other mysterious field. Occasionally, some need or personal interest might take her traveling to a distant place or another plane. But most spellcasters were poor during the early stages of their growth. Even if their families were wealthy nobles, they could hardly afford the cost of learning magic. So young spellcasters had to go on adventures to obtain the resources they needed, while some attached themselves to powerful organizations in exchange for support.

Sunderland was a young Mage partly dependent on Mirabar. She secretly provided some magical services to Marquis Larim, such as using [Suggestion] to influence certain councilors' decisions. Whether she had used magic to influence the foolish marquis himself was hard to say.