The Beginning of a Heroic Epic

Hill sat on the terrace, looking toward the cliff outside the Temple of Tyr.

The steep slope untouched by the undead aura had sprouted a lush lawn, low shrubs, and scattered flowers.

Even in summer, such a sight was rare in the Northlands. Yet near a Nature Mage's territory, it seemed perfectly natural.

Several Holy Knights patrolled back and forth along the L-shaped ridge, which rose like a city wall. Now and then, they stopped to admire a patch of wildflowers in full bloom.

Their leisurely pace made it clear that the Black Dragon brothers who might have come to dig for treasure were unlikely to appear.

Even the most arrogant Chromatic Dragons would not think they could take on Tyr's order of Holy Knights.

And those two cunning brothers were hardly reckless.

They probably had not come to northwestern Faerûn at all, choosing another direction instead.

That meant they would not have obtained the key to Bhaal's temple along the way.

The key had likely fallen into human hands and eventually reached these youngsters, who had both money and time to spare.

In the past, even the strongest humans would never have dared excavate the God of Murder's temple while he might revive at any moment.

It was just like the temples in Baldur's Gate: no matter how much trouble the Bhaalspawn caused, they dared not kill them.

If a Bhaalspawn died by any hand other than a sibling's, the remnant of Bhaal in their mind would suddenly awaken and slaughter everyone nearby.

Against the remnant of a Greater Divine Power, even a Demigod could only protect themselves. They could save no one else.

Everyone in Baldur's Gate felt as though they lived atop a powder keg, but they could hardly abandon their homes over a disaster that might