Theryn turned to Dhaera and pointed at the bottle. “What’s this? You don’t see this sort of thing every day.” Dhaera delicately moved around the precariously-piled array of treasures and shrouded mirrors to join Theryn at the polished wooden bottle stand. “Ah yes, that is one of our more precious artifacts,” she said in a reverential tone. “This is the domain of Nero of the Garden. Nero pursued the truth of beauty and had an epiphany and petitioned Sune to remain in a state of pure understanding in an environment of perfection that he was able to create, and he now resides in a garden of his own making.” Theryn watched as the little man inside the bottle turned up his face to meet Theryn’s gaze. “Did I get in the way of his light?” Theryn asked Dhaera. “How does that work?” “The Dowry Chamber’s driftglobes refract through his enchanted bottle, providing the life-giving light needed to maintain his garden,” Dhaera explained. Inside the bottle, Nero of the Garden was wondering if he was going to have to prepare tea for guests as he noticed that his light had been obscured by a large shadow. He set aside his rake and went to put on a pot of chamomile tea. “Dhaera, what happens if you touch the bottle?” Theryn asked. “Well, we’ve been instructed to leave it alone,” Dhaera said. “As for what would happen if you were to touch it, it is a mystery of Sune. I would recommend that you didn’t.” “Fair enough,” Theryn said. He waved and tried to get the little man’s attention. As he did so, he thought he could hear the sound of birds chirping in his head, and he felt a breeze, though there was no source of wind inside the Dowry Chamber. Inside the bottle, Nero began to pour out five cups of tea from a steaming pot. “Hey, Alec, Bob, come over here!” Theryn said. The Trevelyans began to thread their way over towards Theryn. Bob made it with no problem, but Alec bumped a shelf that was full of crystal globes of varying sizes. One of the globes rolled off the edge of the shelf and shattered on the Dowry Chamber’s floor. At once the abrasive, throat-straining sound of a man’s melodious scream reverberated around the Glory Vault. Dhaera put a hand to her mouth. “Oh no, that was the last song sung by Galluph the Dwarf, a famous Sunnite scream-singer of renown. Oh dear. We’re never getting that back.” “I don’t think that’s a loss,” Theryn said. “Whoops,” Alec said sheepishly. “Oh dear,” Dhaera repeated, trying to maintain her composure. Beads of sweat appeared on her forehead. “Oh dear.” “By the way, what were you looking at over there?” Theryn asked Bob. “Seems like something grabbed your attention.” “Oh, that was our grandfather,” Bob said. “Your what?” Theryn asked, incredulous. “Yes, our grandfather appeared in a mirror and we had a conversation,” Bob said. “Wait, so you looked in a mirror and your grandfather appeared?” Theryn said. “Yes, but he’s gone now,” Bob said. “What happens when other people look in the mirror?” Theryn said. “I don’t know,” Bob said. “Ah, this is going to be fun,” Theryn said. “Check this out. There’s a bottle here with a little man inside it, and when I tried to make contact with him, I heard the sound of birds chirping in my head. Do you hear birds chirping?” Alec nodded while Bob shook his head. “So, apparently this guy wanted to be in the bottle and had a parlay with Sune about it, and wanted to stay in this realm he created for himself.” Theryn turned to Dhaera. “How long has he been in there, anyway?” In Theryn’s head he heard a man’s soft voice answer. “One perfect moment.” “I’ve got a feeling,” Theryn continued. “Somehow, this guy wants company in the bottle. So the wrong type of interaction with this bottle will end up with someone inside of it. Does anyone have any telekinetic magic here?” “Maybe, what do you have in mind?” Bob said. “Can you float this bottle over to the mirror so this guy can look at his reflection in a mirror?” “Wait a moment,” Dhaera cautioned. “I can teleport him over,” Bob said. “I can help!” Alec said as he backed away from the shelf of globes. He backed straight into the 20-foot-tall house of cards behind him, which began to wobble threateningly. “So, what do you think? Nothing ventured, nothing gained?” Theryn said. He wrapped his hands in his tunic and made as if to grab the bottle. Dhaera sucked in a quick breath. “But the sign says not to touch!” “We didn’t make it this far by obeying signs,” Theryn said. Dhaera shook her head. “I can’t allow this!” “Please don’t cover up the glass,” Theryn heard in his head. “An invitation is not a threat of abduction.” “All right, little man,” Theryn said. “You want some company in there?” “I am quite content, however if you would like some tea, I have brewed a fresh pot.” Theryn detected no ill intent from Nero of the Garden. He frowned, then turned to regard another mirror behind him, shrouded in silk. “I am curious as a cat about all the things in here,” he said to himself as he circled around the bottle stand. He pulled the shroud off the mirror nearest him. Theryn regarded his reflection in the mirror. It looked like himself. “As expected,” he murmured. He waved a hand at the mirror and noticed a bit of lag in his reflection. “Uh oh,” he said to himself. Inside the bottle, Nero leaned back against a bonsai sakura tree and admired the cherry blossoms that drifted down but never seemed to settle on the ground. He closed his eyes and smiled. Theryn’s eyes widened as his reflection held out its hands, and from the mirror’s face erupted two pseudopods that lashed towards him. “Why do you have something like this in your treasure room?” Theryn shouted at Dhaera as he attempted to drape the silken shroud back over the mirror. There was a sucking noise and a chewing sound as tentacles grabbed the shroud and stuffed it into a mouth that suddenly appeared in the centre of the mirror’s face. The chewing was like the sound of grinding glass as the shroud was pulled into the mouth. Theryn moved around behind the mirror and launched a kick at the backside of the mirror and immediately regretted it as his foot became stuck fast to the mirror. “This is awkward,” Theryn said, hopping on his other foot to maintain balance. More pseudopods burst out to wave threateningly at the monk. “Dhaera, how did you get that in here?” Theryn asked. “I don’t even know what that is!” Dhaera said. “This is the weirdest mirror I ever saw,” Theryn said. Inside the bottle, Nero felt a tremor that shook the ground beneath him with enough force to interrupt his nap. “Oh, don’t you dare,” he said as he heard the sound of shifting sand from his meditation garden. Bob frowned and realized that a melee spell attack was probably not the way to go, given Theryn’s predicament. He cast guiding bolt at the mirror creature. The radiant bolt arced out and landed squarely on the monster, rocking it. It reeled from the blast as mystical dim light began to glow on the creature. The monster’s pseudopods lashed out at Theryn, and he ducked the first handily but couldn’t avoid the second strike. The monk felt as though he’d been kicked by a booted foot from a monk using his own fighting style. Suddenly the pseudopod began to burn, as though something flammable had been ignited on it. “There’s no need for this,” Nero said. “Why not sit down with me for a nice cup of tea?” Another set of pseudopods struck at Bob, knocking the sorcerer back a step. From the misshapen mirror’s face, he could see a funhouse mirror version of himself, his face contorted in agony. Tentacles affixed themselves to him and Bob stumbled as he felt radiant damage burn his flesh. From across the room, Alec heard the sound of the melee unfolding. He moved as carefully as he could to get himself into a better position. He brushed past an arrangement of clockwork mechanical doves, which took flight in his wake with a clicking sound. He pulled out his hand crossbow and snapped off two shots. There was a twisted shattering sound as the bolts struck home and the creature reeled from the blasts, knocking the tall wooden stand and causing Nero’s bottle to bobble. Bob and Dhaera lunged for the bottle and managed to steady it. Nero frowned as he felt a more significant seismic disturbance. The only noise inside his garden was the rattling of a teacup in its saucer. He sighed, took a sip of tea, and stood up to go and find his spear. Dhaera backed away and drew a javelin from her back holster. “Lady Firehair, guide my strike,” she said as she threw the javelin at the creature. The javelin embedded itself in the creature. Its tentacles turned inward and snapped the weapon like a toothpick. The creature’s mouth began its horrible chewing again as it ate up the javelin-splinters. “Not the brightest mirror in this hall, are you?” Theryn muttered. From Nero’s bottle came a tongue of flame that formed itself into the shape of a handsome Aasimar who appeared to be clad in nothing but bronze body paint and a loincloth. He held a shield and a spear. A chain around his neck kept a red cape from falling from his muscular shoulders. The cape’s cloth tapered back into an ectoplasmic flame that connected the Aasimar to the bottle’s open mouth. “My respectful friends, there are places where one can test his mettle without threatening the Lady Firehair’s treasures,” Nero said as he took his spear and deftly impaled the mirror creature with one confident thrust. He cast a booming blade cantrip and added a divine smite for good measure. The mirror creature shattered into a multifaceted ooze that tinkled as it melted into an amorphous blob that immediately dried into a grey paste. “What was that?” Theryn said. “A mirror mimic,” Nero said. “If I had to guess, that is.” He bowed his head in prayer and asked Sune if his destructive hand was part of Her divine plan, or if he should heal the creature. He got a sense from Sune that he had done well in Her eyes in cleansing something not beautiful from her domain. “Thank you for your insight and bravery in identifying this imposter to duty,” Nero said to the party with a bow. “But I must take my leave, as I have some raking to do.” Erwen woke up on the sandy beach with a seagull about two inches from his face, staring at him with red, dumb eyes. The druid attempted to grab it and it launched itself skyward in a burst of white and grey feathers. He heard the sound of many gulls returning its cries as it wheeled overhead. Erwen had retreated to Sea’s Edge Beach on the northwestern edge of Waterdeep. He could tell just by looking at the water that it was frigid, not yet warmed up from springtime. To the south he could see a great gate that opened out onto the beach that appeared to be shut fast against the elements. He could see no activity near it. Beneath his feet he could tell that the sandy beach had been dumped unceremoniously over mud. The sand gave way to dunes covered in scrubby grass that led to the great walls of Waterdeep that towered overhead. Far to the north he could make out a small cove with islands scattered in the ocean, and another fortification, this one much larger, taking up a lot of space on the horizon. The offending seagull had landed just out of reach and gazed at him with his dull, red eyes. Erwen sighed and began to trudge northward towards the fort as only the barest hint of the approaching dawn to the east began to show itself in the sky over the city. “Well, hello there,” Theryn said to Nero. “Are you the one asking me to tea?” Nero nodded. He looked at the group, including the paladin of Sune, and looked back at the monk. “Ah, you must be Very-Anne?” “Who are you?” Theryn asked. “I am Nero of the Garden,” Nero said. “Beloved Saint of Sune. You are welcome to join me in my garden but I am afraid I must clean. As ugliness always finds a way to rattle that which is beautiful. I invite you to join me in my garden. You are free to leave at any point, of course.” Theryn sensed he was a trustworthy sort. “Dhaera, do you want to go in?” Dhaera smiled. “I don’t see why not, to have an audience with Saint Nero is not to be taken lightly from what I have read.” Bob nodded. “Saint Nero, gardener of great skill, who, when offered a chance to receive a boon from his deity asked only for the opportunity to tend his perfect bonsai garden. And so it went. He is definitely in Sune’s good books.” “All righty then,” Theryn said. “It’s tea time.” The party members began to dissolve into sakura blossoms that were pulled into Nero’s bottle. They found themselves in a warm, soothing environment where finely-shaped bonsai trees crouched over a stream in which koi fish slowly swam, the light glinting off their colourful scales. Somewhere in the distance, a koto was playing pleasant music, and the sound of the wind in the tree branches provided the perfect accompaniment. The illusion of a boundless space was almost perfect – only the slightest blurred refraction of the glass walls of Nero’s bottle betrayed the illusion. Nero began to stroll along the path. The group followed. “You don’t find yourself claustrophobic in here, Nero?” Theryn said as he brushed blossoms from his tunic. “Not particularly,” Nero said. “What is there to fear in the comforts of his own home?” “The adventurer in me feels differently,” Theryn said. “I like to explore.” “Truly understandable,” Nero said. “But what exploration could be more beautiful that a perfect garden crafted in worship of one’s god?” “The unknown,” Theryn replied. “Finding chaos and turning it into order.” He looked around. “Everything in here seems to already be in order.” “Ah, chaos is an illusion and so is the unknown,” Nero said enigmatically. “I’m not saying you can’t explore, exploration is in fact the spice of life, but I have found a flavour that I like.” “Odd that you don’t get bored of it,” Theryn said. “Boredom is quite the meddlesome invention of humanity,” Nero said with a knowing smile. “Doesn’t every day become the same?” Theryn asked. “There are no days here in this garden,” Nero said. “Just one perfect moment.” “One perfect moment,” Theryn repeated as he viewed the garden vista, watching the stream wend its way past manicured grassy knolls, knurled trees, and run under an arched footbridge on its way towards a small shrine on a hill near the bottle’s base. A sand-garden pathway that shone brilliantly in the Dowry Chamber’s light followed the course of the stream, leading to an area with stone benches overlooking the water before heading to the shrine. “So what’s your contribution to the world at large, Saint Nero?” Theryn asked. “I can’t make the world at large beautiful,” Nero said. “I can make one small corner of the world beautiful and tend it and make sure it stays that way.” “But you’re locked here in this vault,” Theryn said. Nero winked. “Oh, but I can leave any time I wish,” he said. “Point being, you’re here and very few people see it,” Theryn said. “I am wondering what benefit you present to others?” “Do you see it?” Nero indicated his garden with a wave of his bronze-coated arm. “What I see is someone holed up inside a bottle inside a treasury inside a temple that few people see,” Theryn said. “I don’t see the function or value.” “Ah,” Nero chuckled. “Something doesn’t have to be useful to be beautiful. Tell me, what is your preferred flavour of tea? I’m sure I have it.” “Jasmine,” Theryn said. “A fine choice,” Nero said. “I shall brew you a pot.” “You wanted us to come and have tea with you,” Theryn said. “Why?” “I wouldn’t say I wanted it,” Nero said. “Well, you invited us,” Theryn pressed. “You didn’t have to invite us so clearly there’s a value in inviting us or you wouldn’t have done so.” “One does not have to gain something to have a pleasant conversation and share some tea,” Nero said. “It’s not about gain,” Theryn said. “It’s about something that you wanted, because you had a choice to either invite us or not invite us, so clearly there’s some value there or else you wouldn’t have invited us.” Nero turned to Dhaera. “Is he always like this?” “I haven’t known this visitor long enough to make that judgment,” she said. “Well, an inquisitive mind is a beautiful thing,” Nero said. “Some in our order believe that hidden beauty is often the most beautiful beauty of all,” Dhaera said. “There is no belief to it,” Nero said. “Skin gets in the way of seeing what is beautiful.” He reached his hand up to a blooming blossom and took a single dewdrop onto the tip of his finger, looking at it. “Is this not incredible?” he asked as he admired the drop of water on his fingertip. “Who knows what garden is contained within that drop of dew?” Bob offered. “Bob, you truly are a prophet of our Lady,” Nero said. “In your pursuit of beauty, how do you avoid succumbing to vanity and greed?” Theryn asked the saint. “A Beautiful question and one that must be asked. What members of our order often forget is that vanity is an ugly thing posing as beauty. True beauty is in the moment, and is fleeting.” He surveyed the group. “Which one of you shattered that awful orb?” Alec slowly raised his hand. “You are a noble and valiant hero in my eyes,” Nero said to the barbarian. “A song is meant to be heard and remembered fondly and not bottled up in glass where none can hear it.” “That’s a bit ironic,” Theryn said. “Don’t you think?” “What is?” Nero asked. “It’s a bit contradictory,” Theryn said. “A song is meant to be heard and shared and remembered, not kept in a bottle.” “Yes,” Nero said. “You don’t see the irony there?” Theryn said. “My goodness, are you calling me a song ?” Nero said. “How wonderful!”