The party rested in the tranquil space of Nero’s Garden. Erwen jumped into the water with a joyful splash and began to doggy-paddle in the shallows, inquisitive koi swimming alongside him. Varien looked about at the otherworldly retreat, its boundaries only dimly visible in the middle distance. At the far end of the picturesque island chain stood a small, immaculately-maintained shrine. Cherry blossoms drifted in the breeze, and birds chirped merrily. The light refracted overhead in an artificial but pleasing manner. Siegfried stepped to the edge of the island and counted the koi, lost in thought. “So, what’s the situation then, Theryn?” Varien asked. “You brought us here. Where is this Nero?” Varien said. Theryn pointed towards a large sakura tree to the north. Beneath it, a handsome humanoid reclined, his long limbs stretched out. A conical straw hat covered his eyes as he dozed. He held an upraised palm outstretched, balanced atop his knee, and every so often a loose cherry blossom would drop into it. With a puff of air from his lips, he would send it spinning away into the sky. “Well, Vary-Anne,” Theryn began. “Why do you keep pronouncing my name like that?” Varien replied. “I’m getting to that,” Theryn said. “When we were here last, Nero called you out by name, as Vary-Anne. So, I’m just going with it. I was going to attempt to bring him to you, but the gods wouldn’t let me, so I brought you to him. I don’t know why he knows who you are and what his intentions are, since we needed a place to rest, the food is pretty good here, it beats most inns, and I figured this would kill two birds with one stone. I think he’s just over the bridge there if you’d like to meet him and see what happens from there.” Varien nodded and looked in Nero’s direction. He raised his hand and waved. Without shifting position or meeting Varien’s gaze, Nero raised his palm in response. A voice was carried on the wind along with a cherry blossom. “Welcome to my Garden. You must be Vary-Anne.” “Okay, let’s sort this out right now,” Varien muttered as he walked over the narrow stone bridge and approached Nero. Nero smoothly got to his feet. “You’re right on time. The tea is just coming to a boil.” “Varien,” said Varien. “Pleased to meet you.” Nero’s perfect forehead wrinkled in an adorable frown. “I think you may be pronouncing that name incorrectly. I have it on good authority that your name is Vary-Anne.” “Is that so?” Varien said. “You really are a specimen, aren’t you?” Theryn said. “Ah, it is good to see you again,” Nero nodded to Theryn. The monk returned the nod with a half-hearted fist-in-palm salute. “I would think that my parents, who named me, would have taught me the proper pronunciation of my name,” Varien said. Nero pondered this for a moment, and then gave Varien a sage nod. “As you wish, Varien. How poetical.” “So, what authority do you speak of?” Varien said. “Am I to guess that you have spoken with Sune?” “Spoken?” Nero repeated with a dazzling smile. “Well, I suppose Sune and I have exchanged…words.” “About me?” Varien said impatiently. “From time to time the Lady Firehair deigns to let her lips brush my ear shall we say, and she has whispered to me of you.” He looked Varien up and down. “She didn’t tell me that you’d look so lovely.” Across the way, Siegfried’s boots produced a sheet of ice as he stepped across the waters, confounding the koi beneath the soles of his boots. “Well, she said a number of things, but I think that first we should have some tea and let the conversation take its course from there,” Nero said. “Lead the way,” Varien said. Nero glided over the water towards another island where a stone table sat, a teapot and cups arrayed above it. Theryn jumped after Nero and landed smartly near the table. Varien sighed and used his boots of striding and springing to leap across the pond. He nearly bobbled the landing. Nero politely ignored Varien’s missteps as he poured the tea for his guests in an elaborate ceremony. There were a series of bows, nods, and offerings of grace to Sune both silent and spoken. As the party members drank their first round of tea, Nero spoke. “Lady Firehair has granted me a gift of hospitality to visitors in my garden where I tend what you see before you, and maintain one perfect moment of true beauty that exemplifies perfection. Please make yourselves at home.” “It is exquisite,” Varien admitted. “Thank you for that, Vary-Anne, er, Varien,” Nero said. “And your family name is…Eater? Do I have that right?” “There’s a ‘th’ in there,” Varien said. “Ah,” Nero said. “As in Theryn, or perhaps as in Thann?” Nero said, casting a glance in Siegfried’s direction. “Well, of course.” He poured just the right amount of tea into Varien’s cup. “Our Lady Firehair appreciates the finer things, which explains your presence and she spoke to me about your journey.” Alec eyed the tray of scones on the table, which Nero had not yet deigned to pass around to the guests. The tea ceremony continued. Sparrows flew out from the trees, dropping sugar cubes in the teacups. Alec’s stomach growled. He reached for a scone, but a sparrow batted his hand away. Seeing this, Siegfried deftly maneuvered a scone onto Alec’s plate. Rubbing his hand, Alec looked down at his plate and smiled. “I have heard whispers on the wind of your quest. I know you seek the Phoenix,” Nero continued. “But pray tell me, how are things going with that?” “Well, it is good of you to offer us food and rest to keep our strength up, for the battle may be upon us,” Varien replied. “How private is this sanctum?” Nero smiled. “Oh, this is a very private sanctum indeed.” “Not as private as we’d like,” Siegfried said. “This is a retreat from the day to day. One perfect moment in perpetuity. Quiet, tranquil, serene. But do keep your voice down. The koi like to listen,” Nero said. “So, if our words are private then let’s make haste with them,” Varien. Siegfried eyed Varien knowingly. “Well said,” Nero said. “There is a rot arisen in the Temple, were you aware?” Varien said. “Describe this blight,” Nero asked, his brow furrowed. “We have good reason to believe that Ssaeral Shadowstar is not anointed of Sune herself, but rather she is Vashi, hidden in plain sight.” Nero’s perfect eyebrows arched. He paused for a moment, and then gave his head a minute shake. “No,” he said disbelievingly. Varien looked at Siegfried and Theryn for a cue. “Obviously we have to take action,” he said. “Right?” Siegfried and Theryn felt that Nero was being sincere in his disbelief. “How long has High Lady Ssaeral been at the helm of the Temple of Beauty?” Siegfried asked. Nero’s expression became wistful. “Well, the years pass even as this perfect moment continues. As I said in our last conversation I mentioned that Ssaeral had ascended to the High Lady’s position after years spent as Heartwarder and Rosetender. She had quite the career you know, moving from temple to temple, from Red Larch down to Baldur’s Gate, and maybe even Tethyr. She was the High Lady one of the last times I emerged from my garden. Oh, if memory serves it was in the days when Piergeiron Paladinson was still Open Lord of Waterdeep.” “Point is, she should look older than she does,” Varien said. “Nero, that was in the 1300s, and Lord Piergeiron perished more than a century ago,” Siegfried said. “No!” Nero said. “Has it been that long?” “Nero,” Siegfried said. “Humans don’t tend to survive that long without dabbling in vampirism,” Siegfried said. “Now, I’m not suggesting that we walk upstairs and cut her down, but it’s something that we need to look into,” Varien said. “If she has been in charge of this place for more than a hundred years as a human person, then she is not a human person,” Siegfried said. “That is one way of looking at it, I’m sure,” Nero said. “But also consider the effects of boons from the Lady Firehair, or any number of explanations. But a succubus? I mean really.” “I have a question for you, Nero,” Theryn interjected. “You’re invested in this one perfect moment in here, but if you thought for a moment, are there things that could occur outside of this bottle that ruin what takes place inside this bottle?” Nero pondered this. “Well, there are any number of disasters, both natural and unnatural, of course. Both myself and Beauty’s Temple have been blessed to have withstood many troubles that Waterdeep has faced over the centuries. This temple has been rebuilt and refashioned many times, usually due to changes in aesthetics in architecture and interior design, as previous models of beauty are refreshed. Unlike this garden, buildings do not remain perfect forever.” “And if something ill were to befall Sune Herself, would you be content to be resigned to a passive role while that happened?” “You mistake passivity for paralysis,” Nero said. “But of course, if I were to hear the call to action to protect not only this perfect moment but the Lady Firehair Herself, who would refuse that call?” “You may want to look more closely, then, because I feel that call might be upon you,” Theryn said. Nero’s serene façade did not crack. Siegfried summoned his Bloodsworn Axe and withdrew a vial of blood. He uncorked the vial of orc-enchanted blood he’d accumulated from his battle with the Gilded Eye agents in the chapterhouse. Nero’s eyebrow rose. “Now, Nero,” Siegfried said. “The blood in this vial has been cursed with foul orcish blood magic. Were I to pour this into your garden, as a gardener, what would you do?” Nero sighed. “Well, I would certainly ensure that this garden was not tarnished.” “And if I were to bury this vial in the soil here whilst your eyes were elsewhere, and you were not to notice, as its poison quietly seeped into the ground, when would you notice the ill deed that had invaded your garden?” “I’m not sure I like where this conversation is going, gentlemen,” Nero said. “You’re not supposed to like it,” Siegfried replied. “It’s supposed to make you uncomfortable.” “Can you think of anything that would prove the High Lady’s innocence?” Varien asked. “I can merely offer my memories and my history with High Lady Shadowstar,” Nero said. “The knowledge I have of her leadership of this temple over many decades. She is of course her own person under the banner of Lady Firehair, and she is empowered to make decisions, to set theological precepts, to guard the flock of beautiful subjects in this community. And until you began laying out these accusations, I of course had every confidence in her abilities as High Lady.” “And now that these accusations have been laid out before you?” Siegfried placed a hand on Varien’s gauntlet and turned it so that the inscription was visible to Nero. “And heard the words of Lady Firehair that identifies the rot in Beauty’s Temple?” “I used my divine sense in the High Lady’s presence,” Varien said. “I didn’t hear divinity, but I smelled a stinking perfume hiding something ill. Do you have similar abilities?” “Do I?” Nero said. “I do. Certainly, we are both paladins.” “Then you can see for yourself one thing we have against her that raises suspicions.” Varien said. “Suspicious indeed,” Nero said. “But what does this have to do with the Phoenix?” Varien cleared his throat and recited the words of Lady Firehair inscribed on his gauntlet, his eyes holding Nero’s gaze. “Such poetry,” Nero breathed when Varien had completed. “And there it is.” “Undeniable,” Varien said. “The word of the Goddess Herself.” Nero clapped his hands. “Well, that is good enough for me. And as you have granted me understanding, if you will allow me Varien, I will grant you a gift of understanding. Would you pray with me, Varien?” Varien nodded assent. Nero reached out, placing his fingers on Varien’s temple, and began to pray a prayer of understanding, asking that Sune would open Varien’s eyes and expand his perception, and thus grow in wisdom and stature under Lady Firehair’s guidance.” Varien received the Blessing of Understanding. “This blessing is granted by the Lady Firehair,” Nero said with seriousness. “Do not waste it. Do not abuse it. But use it for as long as Sune grants it.” “This is my vow,” Varien said, as he felt a wave of understanding pass through him. Nero smiled. “This is where I hoped our conversation would lead, Varien Aether,” he said, pronouncing his name correctly. Varien nodded. “Truly you are favoured by Sune,” Nero said. “This is what she whispered on the wind to me. In circumstances such as these, your awareness and perception need to be heightened. I trust that you will not take this gift lightly.” “I won’t thank you,” Varien said. “You’re welcome. Who would like more tea?” Nero said brightly to the rest of the party. Varien activated his divine sense , but could not determine any sense of corruption in the immediate area. There was a lot of heavenly ringing in his ears, and Varien was suddenly aware of Nero’s celestial heritage as an aasimar. “This whole place is consecrated, yes?” Varien asked. “Absolutely,” Nero said. “How lovely,” Varien said. “Rest now in the Lady Firehair’s presence,” Nero advised. “You’ll want your strength for the challenges that lie ahead, I’m sure.” The party did just that. Siegfried took the opportunity to identify the objects carried by the orcish horderaiser the party had encountered in Tholl Sla-Houk. He identified the necromancer’s strange melee weapon as a bladed gauntlet of life stealing . He knew that orc horderaisers would use the gauntlet to perform mercy killings on the battlefield, shortly before raising his victims as an undead servant. The necromancer’s quarterstaff was a staff of soul binding , an equally blasphemous weapon. Holding the staff would give its user resistance to necrotic energy, and the staff could be used to summon undead. The staff recharged by binding the souls of the recently deceased. “Erwen, would you like this cool knife-glove?” Siegfried asked Erwen. “Thank you, but no thanks,” Erwen said. Siegfried also pulled out the mask he had retrieved from the Gilded Eye assassin. Inscribed on the inside of the mask was a short inscription: before you set out on a journey of revenge, first dig two graves . He then identified the object as a mask of the assassin , the properties of which included the ability to move stealthily. However, should the wearer die while wearing the mask, the mask would disintegrate its wearer. “As one touched by the blood of Gruumsh, I am somewhat resistant to death,” Siegfried said to Theryn. Theryn frowned. “That’s an odd way to begin a conversation, Siegfried.” Siegfried brandished the mask. “You remember the assassins who wore masks like this in the house of Lady Nidris in Neverwinter?” “And what does this mask do?” Theryn asked. “It grants you stealth and sneak attacks, but if you die while wearing it you turn to dust.” Siegfried said. “I will pass on that, but thank you,” Theryn said. “Nero, are any of these items cursed?” Siegfried asked. Nero shook his head. Siegfried smiled as he attuned to the staff of soul binding and the mask of the assassin. He donned the bladed gauntlet, but used mask of many faces to appear unarmed. After a time, Nero engaged Varien in conversation. “Usually, security in the Dowry Chamber is quite tight, but your friends disturbed a creature during their initial exploration of this sacred space. I am concerned that perhaps this is to do with the rot you speak of, and that there is an infestation of sorts that is working its way in even to the Dowry Chamber. And this disturbs me. Literally, as I understand that this creature was lurking quite close to my display case. I cannot allow this.” “Those sheets we saw covering objects on the way in,” Siegfried asked. “Would things covered by those sheets block your divine sense?” “It would depend on the nature of the sheet,” Nero admitted. “So, what are you suggesting?” Varien asked Nero. “That I go upstairs and take a look?” “As I said before, this temple has been built and built anew, atop older versions over the centuries and I worry that perhaps the depths of the temple are not as secure as they once were.” “I believe we may have to visit these depths,” Varien said firmly. “Funny you should mention that,” Nero said. “Are you perhaps familiar with the hallway mosaics that illustrate Sune’s first meetings with Hyolyn, the Phoenix?” “I am not,” Varien said. Theryn raised his hand. “The heartwarders and rose-tenders have sealed many entrances to the lower foundations of this temple,” Nero said conspiratorially. “But the followers of the Phoenix have maintained a secret passage or two. For unlike many temples of Sune throughout the Sword Coast, Beauty’s Temple has remained hospitable to the Cult of the Phoenix, and if you were to find the mosaic of Hyolyn’s fabled passage into the Frozenfar, you might discover a hidden passage of a more literal sort.” Varien nodded. “Nero, you said earlier that if you heard the Call, you would answer it. Are you going to accompany us or stay here in your garden?” Nero smiled and looked out over his domain. “I must wait for a sign from the Lady Firehair. That would be my call. She told me to expect you and give you what blessings I could offer, but for now, this is where I leave you.” “At this I am sad, but not every perfect moment can stay,” Varien said. Nero’s smile widened. “Well, you are always welcome to share this one perfect moment anytime.” Meanwhile, Erwen made friends with several koi fish as he splashed around the waters. He was slightly annoyed at the obvious simulacrum of Nero’s garden, but the fish were friendly enough. Erwen floated on his back over to where his friends were reclining around the stone table and hopped out of the water. He grabbed the last scone and ate it. Nero smiled and bowed. “Oh, hello my little friend!” “Little?” Erwen said, his brow furrowed. “Oh, I beg your pardon, I did not mean to offend. Perhaps ‘short’ would be a better word?” Nero said. “I have been tending this garden for many years, and perhaps the range of acceptable language has shifted during my time in seclusion.” “Just watch who you are talking to, because my people enjoy their freedom,” Erwen said. “You are of course free to enjoy your surroundings,” Nero said. “Thanks for the scone,” Erwen said. Alec had loosened his belt and let out a loud snore nearby. “Well, it would be impolite to linger longer than we should,” Varien said. He bowed to Nero and asked, “how do we leave this place?” Before he was finished speaking, he was once again standing in the Dowry Chamber, brushing cherry blossoms from his armour. His friends stood nearby. “May you be granted a new understanding, friends,” Nero’s disembodied voice said. Siegfried and Theryn exchanged a knowing glance. The monk shifted towards the bottle and its ornate wooden stand, as Siegfried prestidigitated an illusory bottle identical to Nero’s. “So, are we off to deal with your lady friend?” Siegfried asked. “I might want to take a look around first,” Varien said, eyeing the treasures within the Dowry Chamber. Here and there were dressing mirrors shrouded in silken sheets, alongside statues in various stages of undress and arousal. There was a large house of cards nearby, and above, the vaulted ceiling held the constellation of floating driftglobes. Siegfried used his eldritch sight to detect magic as he palmed off the illusory bottle to Theryn. As Varien’s back was turned, Theryn quickly switched bottles and hid Nero’s bottle in the folds of his robes. The sleight-of-hand activity was invisible to all except Erwen, who kept a silent watch over the whole affair. Siegfried and Theryn did not know that Erwen knew. Varien was distracted by a small jewelry box on a shelf. Sitting on the tiny satin pillow was a single teardrop that glittered in the artificial light of the driftglobes. “How interesting,” Varien said. “A tear shed at the reunion of two long-lost lovers.” He moved to gently shut the box to keep it safe. Erwen padded over to Varien and tapped him on the hip. “Psst, Varien. Siegfried’s trying to steal Nero. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but I thought you’d know what to do with that information.” Varien turned around and looked at Nero’s bottle, which appeared to still be on its stand. “That one’s a fake!” whispered Erwen. Varien blocked Siegfried’s path and activated his divine sense but could not detect any consecrated object on his person. He could, however, detect certain items of corruption in Siegfried’s inventory. The doors to the Dowry Chamber began to open. The Seraphs of Sune fixed their gaze on the party. Theryn could feel their eyes on him as he walked nonchalantly through the doorway. The rest of the party followed. As they entered the temple’s main sanctuary, they saw a number of Sunnites standing before them. Siegfried and Varien cast protection from evil and good on themselves. In the centre of the party before them was High Lady Ssaeral Shadowstar, wearing a diaphanous gown. At her right hand was High Exultant Iseriasha Darkeyes. Dhaera Darklight also stood nearby. On either side flanked a number of armored paladins – the Temple of Beauty’s Glory Guard, Rose Champions all, resplendent in polished form-fitting plate armor that bore the symbol of Lady Firehair. “I hope you didn’t go through all this effort just for us, High Lady,” Varien said. The High Lady batted her eyes at the party as they filed out of the Dowry Chamber. “Oh, Brother Aether, I had been informed that perhaps there was some disorder within Sune’s Dowry Chamber and thought it prudent to come here immediately to sort things out. I trust you enjoyed your visit?” “It was lovely,” Varien said. “I’ve been blessed by Sune with wisdom. I can now see through the lies.” Siegfried began to approach the High Lady, carefully concealing his ill intent behind an obfuscating word salad. “Yes, we have received word of enemies approaching from the East to bring a storm to our shores and we are going to go and meet them directly.” High Exultant Iseriasha and High Lady Ssaeral both frowned perfect frowns as Siegfried drew near. “Honoured guest, please do not approach the High Lady without first being bidden,” Iseriasha said coolly, fixing a glare at Siegfried as she stepped forward. There was a rattle of plate armour from the Glory Guard behind them. “The High Lady?” Siegfried repeated. “Where? I see no lady!” he quickened a dispel magic spell aimed at High Lady Ssaeral. The High Lady staggered back as if struck, gasping. Her complexion paled and her resolve cracked like fine porcelain, dark circles appeared under her eyes. “No,” the High Lady whispered as she fought to regain her balance. “Show me your true form!” Siegfried commanded. “What is the meaning of this!?” hissed the High Exultant. “You would dare use magic against our High Lady?” The High Lady hunched over, retching. “No, no!” she screeched. Wrinkles began to appear on her skin. Desperately, she fished out a Sunnite hand mirror from her bejewelled handbag and stared at her reflection. Her hair was visibly greying out at the roots, and her cheekbones became more prominent as her face began to lose the well-fed vitality of youth. “It cannot be!” Her body shape changed into something crone-like. She let out a blood-curdling scream that became thready and stretched, her vocal cords losing their integrity as she ran out of breath and gasped. It was as though she was aging by the second, her arthritic fingers spasming as she dropped the hand mirror that shattered on the stone floor. Her bones too brittle to support what weight remained, the wheezing husk shuddered a final time and collapsed, birdlike, her gauzy gown covering her shrunken form as it settled over her corpse. Siegfried paused for a moment, masking confusion with resolve. “All I see,” he said firmly, “is a mocking heresy.” “You’re not even a Sunnite, Siegfried,” Varien said. “What would you know about heresy?” “Trust me,” Siegfried pointed down at Ssaeral’s body. “That’s definitely a mocking heresy.” Iseriasha’s mouth was open in shock. Her eyes narrowed as she pointed a perfectly manicured finger at Siegfried. “What have you done, you murderer!?” “Looks like your High Lady was already dead,” Siegfried replied. There was the sound of swords ringing from their scabbards as the Glory Guard stepped forward. Siegfried turned to Varien. “Question. Am I the necromancer or was she the necromancer?”