The desert cavalry sweeping in like a storm were, of course, the Bedine.
The Netherese empire had two confirmed groups of descendants. The first were the Bedine, who had stubbornly remained in the desert, living as herders while avoiding the moving paths of the legendary Magic Drain spell. They were an extraordinarily fierce and fearless people. Even after losing their flying cities, Archmages, and Nether Scrolls, the Bedine had held their ground here.
But the Great Desert provided far too little sustenance. As a result, besides herding, the Bedine had to engage in some measure of plunder, either raiding desert caravans outright or selling "passes" and charging enormous "tolls" to large caravans traveling through the desert.
The desert had inflicted endless suffering on the Bedine, but it had also tempered their bodies and wills, granting them unimaginable strength!
Every Bedine who survived to adulthood was, at the very least, a peak Apprentice-level professional.
The second group of Netherese Remnants, by contrast, lived in Halruaa, the magical kingdom in the southern part of the continent. The Halruaans had preserved a shadow of Netheril's former glory, and their magical kingdom still boasted vast numbers of Mages. Yet the shock of Netheril's fall had made them extremely isolationist. They scarcely traded with outsiders and had almost no contact with the outside world.
Doherty watched the Bedine cavalry before him with a savage grin.
Holding his brass saber high, the Half-Orc Sword Saint knelt on one knee. Amid the windblown sand, Doherty silently prayed to the supreme Khorne, Blood God.
Thank you for the gift of the Brass Throne!
Naturally, the Bedine would show the Half-Orc no mercy. To these desert tribesmen, anyone who failed to produce a pass immediately was an enemy-and fair game for plunder.
"Shoot!" the Bedine leader roared. The Black-Clad