Faerûn: Lord of the Eternal Sun

It's late at night at the Vulture Tavern.

In the dimly lit tavern hall, the customers who had finished their drinks left one after another, and the bartender cleaned up the tables and chairs before saying goodbye to the owner who was sitting at the bar.

"See you tomorrow, boss."

"See you tomorrow."

Old Neil was somewhat distracted as he got up to close the tavern door when a disheveled figure suddenly burst in.

"Isaac!!"

Old Neil looked like he'd seen a ghost. He was covered in blood, his coarse linen clothes stained red with blood, and his face was pale.

"Old Neil, something's happened! That caravan deceived us; they're nobles from the city, here to seek revenge. It's a trap!"

Isaac gasped for breath, leaning against a pillar with a vacant look in his eyes, before collapsing into unconsciousness.

In the dimly lit tavern hall, Old Neil, recovering from his shock, glared fiercely at the unconscious Isaac. He reached for the dagger at his lower back and then plunged it into Isaac's throat with ruthless precision.

A large, steel-like hand gripped his wrist, and Isaac, who had been 'unconscious,' opened his eyes, his gaze towards his old friend filled with sorrow and heartache.

"Why?! We've known each other for sixteen years!"

"Scarface is dead! You killed him!"

Isaac's weakness and bloodstains were all a facade, a test set by Old Neil to see if he was aware of the trap.

"He shouldn't have died! I had no choice; the nobleman contacted me privately and threatened my family's lives!"

"Big guy, I didn't kill Scarface, you did! This commission is specifically for you; you insisted on sharing it with him!"

Old Neil's eyes were filled with tears and bloodshot. He hadn't slept well for the past few days, and all he could see when he closed his eyes were the images of his two longtime friends' deaths.

Isaac remained silent. What the other person said was true; he bore a large part of the responsibility for Scar's death.

"Big guy, according to the rules, I beg you to spare my family. They know nothing."

Old Neil pleaded with a sorrowful tone, and Isaac nodded and released his grip.

The old man, his temples graying, looked grateful, picked up a dagger, and slit his own throat, his actions as resolute as before.

Blood gushed out and splattered onto Isaac, who was a meter away.

Old Neil collapsed to the ground, convulsing, blood pooling from his neck. His dying expression was relaxed, as if he had atoned for his mistakes.

Isaac watched as old Neil, who had framed him, committed suicide before his eyes, feeling no sense of vengeful pleasure. Instead, he directed his hatred toward the Lancaras family.

…………

The next day, the bartender arrived at the tavern and was stunned, which attracted the attention of the patrolling city guards.

Old Neil died, and according to the city guards, it was clearly a suicide. No one except Isaac knew why.

His son, Zeke, inherited the tavern, and on the day of Old Neil's passing, Isaac came and offered condolences.

"Big Uncle!"

Zeke looked grief-stricken; he was about the same age as Isaac, but a generation younger.

Isaac observed his expression and found nothing unusual, so he probably didn't know anything about it.

"Jek, come find me at the blacksmith's shop if you need any help."

Out of respect for Neil, Isaac decided to hide the truth and bear the pain and hatred alone.

……

Back at the blacksmith's shop, Scar's son, Ian, was banging away at the red-hot iron ingots, venting his anger.

"Big Uncle, please tell me! Who is the enemy?"

Ian's eyes were bloodshot, and his face was contorted with rage.

"If you want revenge, then study fighting properly. Once you're strong enough, I'll tell you who your enemy is. Also, I promise you, I will avenge your father."

Isaac spoke seriously, making assurances to his apprentice.

"Starting today, the blacksmith shop will no longer accept new orders, and all weapons and shields will be sold at half price."

"Once all the orders are completed, this blacksmith shop will close."

Taking this opportunity, Isaac announced a decision he had long planned.

Ian panicked and knelt before his mentor, pleading desperately:

"Big Uncle, I don't want to go back to being a goat butcher. You are the strongest warrior in town, and I want to learn fighting skills from you. I don't need any salary, as long as I can stay by your side and serve you!"

Isaac took off the money pouch from his waist and stuffed it into Ian's arms. Inside were 50 gold coins, which Ian didn't dare to reach out to take.

"Ian, listen to me!"

"If you want to stay by my side, then take this money home and use it to make ends meet."

This was meant as compensation for killing his old friend, to alleviate Isaac's guilt. His tone was unquestionable, which is why the apprentice accepted the money bag and kowtowed.

After giving away the money, Isaac's savings were reduced to only 104 gold coins, but the most valuable item was still the dimensional ring that was not yet usable.

As for the remaining money, Isaac planned to donate it to the Church of the Sun in exchange for a precious paladin position.

You can't catch a wolf without spending gold coins. As long as you can change your class to a noble paladin, there are always ways to recoup this cost.

…………

Upper Town, the Lancalas family estate.

The chubby caravan leader entered the mansion with trepidation and went to the study to meet the young master, Lord Sanders.

The chubby boy's identity was not a disguise; his family owned a sizable caravan whose main trade route ran from the city-state of Shahram to the north and south of the Sword Coast, including human towns such as Waterdeep, Neverwinter, Baldur's Gate, and Daggerhold, and even as far as distant lands like Luskan and Kalinsan.

The caravan's annual trade earned the family a large amount of gold coins, with spices, gems, and handicrafts being the main export commodities.

After retiring from the military, a large number of veterans from the same faction will receive invitations from the Lancaras family to join the family's caravan as guards, protecting long-distance trade.

The chubby guy, one of the caravan leaders, held a high position in the family, but unfortunately, he messed up the task assigned by the young master.

In the study, Sanders sat behind his desk, his face terribly grim. It was a plan that seemed foolproof, yet Isaac had still managed to slip away.

"You mean more than twenty veterans successfully ambushed him in the middle of the night but failed to capture him, and he escaped!"

Sanders was grinding his teeth, unable to contain his anger.

"Young Master, he's running too fast. He escaped before we could even form an encirclement."

The chubby boy made excuses to avoid it, but he was actually careless this time. Knowing that the opponent's close combat ability was amazing, his first thought was to have the archers shoot him from a distance. This decision was not wrong.

Sanders clenched his fists. After this failed operation, the other side would definitely be more vigilant, making the next operation even more difficult.

"Get out!"

Sandsk suppressed his anger and waved for the fat manager to leave. As one of the candidates to lead the family in the future, he couldn't take his anger out on others, lest he lose the support of the people.

If I want to successfully ascend to the position of head of the family in the future, I will inevitably need the support of these responsible persons.

The person in charge bowed and stepped back, leaving the study with a respectful expression. Once outside, he immediately straightened his back, and the look of fear on his face vanished.

His annual performance reports are among the best in the family, so as long as he doesn't make any big mistakes, he can rest easy in the family. If anything happens, the elders will protect him.

His ability is his get-out-of-jail-free card!