Faerûn: Lord of the Eternal Sun

At dawn, the morning light shines on this city of yellow sand, and the temperature begins its daily routine of rising.

The Huangsha Guards were divided into teams of five, with a team leader appointed to lead the patrols of the streets.

As they passed the alleyway, the burly squad leader caught a faint smell of blood.

Something's up.

The guards stopped and cautiously entered the stone alley, spears in hand.

This is the back alley of a tavern. There is a small puddle of unidentified matter on the ground, which looks like the vomit of a drunkard. There is a foul stench in the air, mixed with a slight fishy smell of dried blood.

The guards walked into the deserted alley and noticed the pile of corpses in the corner, all dressed in standard black robes.

"So many?"

The squad leader's expression changed drastically. Seeing corpses in the lower city or slums was common, but seeing so many at once was rare and constituted a medium-sized serious incident.

As the guards entered, a swarm of startled flies flew about.

The squad leader rummaged through the scattered limbs, his face serious, until he saw the black fist tattoo on the left chest of the corpse and finally breathed a sigh of relief.

"So it was a gang fight, then it's alright."

The deaths of civilians and the deaths of gang members are completely different concepts. The city hall and the city guards don't care at all about the deaths of these gang thugs.

They believed that these people were parasites in the city-state, only capable of oppressing and extorting the common people, and committing heinous crimes, so it didn't matter how many of them died.

"Get someone to dispose of the body properly, or it'll start to stink."

The squad leader ordered that the corpses would rot and stink in less than half a day in the hot daylight.

In the past, many plagues occurred because the bodies were not disposed of in time. Later, the city hall made adjustments and strictly prohibited the bodies from staying in the sun for too long.

"These are all corpses of the Brotherhood of Fighters! This isn't their territory either."

Looking at the bloodstains dragged on the ground, the squad leader recalled that there didn't seem to be many ruthless people in the area he was responsible for.

He couldn't help but glance at the anvil alley on the next street, thinking of the recently rising star, the Son of the Sun, who was also his former captain.

"Let's go, just remember to report back later."

The Yellow Sand Guards left the stone alley as if nothing had happened. As for the severed limbs and remains, the Shadowy Corpse Collectors, who specialized in collecting corpses, would come and deal with them later.

-----------------

The clanging sounds of forging still echoed from the blacksmith's shop. Although the bloodstains on the ground had been simply washed away, they still left obvious traces.

After all, the sandstone floor is rough and has many small pores, so liquids will be quickly absorbed once they get on it.

Isaac's arm wound has been bandaged and is no longer a major problem, but he still needs to rest for a couple of days to allow the wound to heal before he can fight.

That's why I didn't immediately confront the underground boxing brotherhood, allowing them to relax their vigilance for a few days.

It's relatively safe during the day, with city guards patrolling and the gang's thugs behaving more subdued. However, you can't stay at the blacksmith shop at night; you'll have to find an inn or tavern to stay for a few days.

A figure walked into the blacksmith shop. Isaac didn't even look up, assuming it was another customer who had weapons made, and told him to shoo them away.

"Sorry, buddy, come back in a month. I'm busy this month."

"A big guy?!"

A slightly hoarse voice rang out, tinged with a hint of doubt.

Isaac looked up when he heard the familiar voice, and sure enough, it was his old friend.

"It's you! Scarface."

"Once I've finished forging this axe, let's go to the tavern for a couple of drinks."

The middle-aged man known as Scarface stared in disbelief at the transformed blacksmith.

"It's only been half a month since I last saw you, how did you become a descendant of an ancient god!"

Scarface Barn clicked his tongue in amazement. He had also been a Sandwalker in his youth, and back then he and a teenage Isaac were adventure partners, venturing through ruins and killing War Lizardman bandits together.

If Isaac hadn't saved his life in time, he would have suffered more than just a scar on his cheek. Therefore, the two had a true bond of life and death.

Scarface Barn is no longer a Sandwalker; he's now a professional butcher, slaughtering goats in the Lower City market.

As for why there are goats in the desert, it's because these goats were brought by caravans from other regions. They were very expensive, and almost only the middle class and the wealthy in the upper city could afford them.

The taverns in the lower town also sell dishes cooked with mutton, which are equally expensive.

As a professional butcher, Scarface was first attracted by his old buddy's appearance, and then quickly noticed the bloodstains on the floor and the faint smell of blood in the air.

"Hey big guy, are you in trouble? Why didn't you say so?"

"It's nothing. I got into a fight with a drunk yesterday and broke his nose. He was bleeding a lot."

Scarface looked displeased, while Isaac casually brushed him off, saying that his old friend already had a family, a wife, and two well-behaved children, and there was no need to drag him into this mess.

After all, Isaac suspected that it wasn't just underground gangs, but also involved the nobles of the Upper City, something Scar couldn't help with.

"So you mean that drunkard's nose was bleeding all over the room?" Scarface couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"Just let me know if you run into any trouble."

"Okay."

……

The Vulture Tavern, just across the street from the blacksmith's shop, was where Isaac and his old buddies often drank, ate, and watched strippers perform.

As the two passed through the stone alley, Isaac glanced over and, sure enough, the corpses that had been dragged over in the middle of the night had all been cleaned up.

The two-story tavern is built entirely of large blocks of sandstone, and its weathered exterior walls have small cracks, making it look somewhat old.

A blue flag depicting a vulture bowing its head to drink fluttered gently in the breeze.

The streets were hot, but the two felt much cooler as soon as they entered the tavern.

The tavern is spacious, with a semi-circular bar at the bottom of the central aisle, and a dozen or so paulownia wood tables on both sides.

Many guests noticed the two who entered, their eyes drawn to Isaac, whose appearance was so striking and out of place in the downtown area.

"It's Isaac, the Son of the Sun!"

"A Son of the Sun has actually appeared in the Lower City. It's been so many years since that's happened."

The guests chattered amongst themselves, raising their wooden wine glasses to greet him.

Isaac waved in response, walked to the bar, and raised his hand to greet the bartender.

Is Old Neil here?

"He's upstairs, I'll go and call him down."

"No need, I'll go upstairs to find him and have him prepare a roasted lamb leg and lamb chops for me and bring them upstairs."

Old Neil is the tavern owner, and the two have known each other for over a decade, often collaborating on projects together.

He's well-informed, and Isaac can earn some extra income through him.

Old Neil would often recommend that the Sandwalkers order weapons and shields from the Big Guy's blacksmith shop.