Beneath the Sun

Chapter 2 The Price of Secrets

Jair pushed the oak door open and as he stepped inside, he was greeted by the sight of a dimly lit tavern. The air was heavy with the scent of well-aged ale and damp timber, mingling with the lingering smokiness of the now extinguished hearth. A few scattered candles cast flickering light, causing the shadows to dance on the walls. The room was nearly empty, with only the impeccably dressed tavern keeper diligently wiping down the bar with a well-worn rag that had clearly seen better days.

The tavern keeper looked up, his hard eyes scrutinizing Jair as he approached. "Another one, eh?" His voice was rough, matching the worn edges of the room. He slid a few rolled parchments across the bar, his calloused fingers leaving smudges on their surfaces. "Take your pick."

Jair unrolled the parchments, each containing a sketch and brief description of a different target. He scanned them quickly, his eyes narrowing as he reached the last one.

"That one," he said, tapping the final parchment
.
The tavern keeper raised an eyebrow, his expression cautious. "Him? You're sure about that?"

Jair nodded, his gaze steady. "What do you know about him?"

The tavern keeper leaned on the bar, eyes narrowing slightly. "More than most, maybe. But that one's trouble. He's got connections, runs with some folk you don't want to cross."

Jair tilted his head, prompting the tavern keeper to elaborate.

"He's in deep with a group—calls themselves the Sunborn," the man continued, his voice dropping. "They're a secretive lot, always have been. People say they dabble in strange things, rituals and such, but you know how tales go."

The tavern keeper leaned back, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "You've got the look of a man with a purpose. What brings you to this forsaken place?"

Jair met his gaze, his expression unreadable. "I'm looking for someone. A priest."

The tavern keeper's eyebrows furrowed. "A priest, you say?" His voice dropped to a near whisper. "And you think he's tied to the Sunborn?"

Jair's gaze didn't waver. "It's a possibility. The trails I've followed lead me to believe there's a connection."

The tavern keeper nodded slowly, absorbing this new information. "Well, if that's the case, you'd best be careful. The Sunborn don't take kindly to outsiders poking around in their affairs, and if your priest is involved with them... it might be more dangerous than you're bargaining for."

Jair simply nodded, the resolve in his eyes unshaken. "I appreciate the warning."

The tavern keeper sighed, his rough exterior softening for a moment. "You won't find much sympathy for the Sunborn around here. The lot's a bunch of heretics if you ask me."
Jair's gaze hardened. "I'm not looking for sympathy. Just information."

The tavern keeper nodded, his eyes thoughtful. "Information comes at a price, you know. This ain't charity work."

Jair reached into his pocket and placed a small pouch of coins on the bar. "Consider it a down payment."

The tavern keeper weighed the pouch in his hand before tucking it away. "Fair enough. The man you're after, you'll find him at the end of town, holed up in an old abandoned building. Likely sleeping off his drunkenness from last night. He's been helping some Sunborn members move illegal goods in and out of the city's major trade hubs. Smuggling's his main trade, but don't underestimate him. He's slippery, and if he thinks you're onto him, he'll bolt without a second thought."

Jair nodded, absorbing the information. "I'll pay him a visit. Anything else you can tell me?"

The tavern keeper hesitated, then spoke again. "There's talk of strange happenings in the forest near Twilight Grove. People disappearing, seeing ghosts, whispers of rituals. Nothing concrete, but enough to keep decent folk away. And if your priest is tied up with the Sunborn, you might find yourself tangled in more than just a smuggler's web."

Jair smirked. "I always keep my eyes open."
The tavern keeper straightened, his demeanor shifting back to business. "You'll need a place to stay tonight. Rooms are cheap, but clean."

Jair gave a curt nod. "I'll take one."
As the tavern keeper handed Jair a key, he paused, a hint of something softer in his eyes. "You remind me of someone. A warrior, just like you, chasing ghosts from his past."

Jair raised an eyebrow. "And what happened to him?"

The tavern keeper chuckled, but there was no humor in it. "He found what he was looking for. But he lost everything else in the process."

Jair met the keeper's gaze, intrigued. "You seem to know a lot about chasing ghosts."

The tavern keeper's expression turned somber. "A friend of mine lost his family in a raid years ago. Spent a long time hunting down those responsible. Thought it would bring him peace."

"Did it?" Jair asked quietly.

The tavern keeper shook his head. "No. The ghosts stayed. And he lost himself along the way. That's why he's here now, trying to rebuild his life, one day at a time."

Jair's gaze hardened as the tavern keeper spoke of his lost family. A shadow flickered across his face, too brief for anyone to notice, but deep enough to unsettle him. Was he really that different from the man the keeper described? How many times had he come close to abandoning his own humanity in pursuit of his ghosts? The thought clawed at him, and he pushed it away, burying it beneath layers of anger and resolve. "I'm not him," he muttered, almost as if trying to convince himself.

The tavern keeper smiled sadly. "Maybe not. But take it from an old man who's seen this path—sometimes, chasing the past only leads to more pain. Be careful you don't lose yourself in the process."

Jair walked away from the bar, the weight of the tavern keeper's words settling over him like a shroud. As he climbed the stairs to his room, his mind replayed the conversation, piecing together the fragments of information. The path ahead was fraught with danger, but he had no choice. He had to keep moving forward.
In the solitude of his room, Jair prepared for the journey ahead. The small space was filled with the scent of oiled leather and cold steel as he checked his weapons. Faint mana glowed from the runes etched into their surfaces, a subtle reminder of the power they held.

"Just another step closer," he muttered to himself, though he knew it was more than that. Every target brought him one step nearer to the answers he sought.

As he settled into the bed, his mind drifted to the past, to the traumas that had shaped him. The face of his sister, twisted in madness, haunted his thoughts. He clenched his jaw, pushing the image away. There would be time for those demons later. For now, he needed rest.

Tomorrow, the hunt would continue. And with it, the unrelenting pursuit of vengeance that drove him forward.