The echoes of the High Lady’s dying scream still echoed in vaulted recesses of the temple sanctuary as the members of the Temple of Beauty’s Glory Guard began drawing their greatswords, expressions of shock marring their beautiful faces. High Exultant Iseriasha stared daggers at Siegfried, her finger still pointing accusatorially at the half-orc. “Did we really just let him do that?” Varien hissed. Theryn cleared his throat and addressed Dhaera. “Is there any room left for words, or will blades prevail this day?” Dhaera’s eyes darted from Theryn to Iseriasha and back again. “I…I will obey the High Exultant. I must obey her.” “High Exultant, do you not see what has happened here?” Theryn said to Iseriasha. “We just fought a mimic inside the Dowry Chamber, and now this. Your ranks have been infiltrated. Clearly my friend here did not murder the High Lady, but merely revealed the truth.” “This one used magic against the High Lady, resulting in her death,” Iseriasha countered, her voice dripping with poisonous malice as she thrust her index finger towards Siegfried yet again. “What other charge could there be but murder?” “That she clearly wasn’t the High Lady, and that the magic revealed her for what she truly was!” Theryn replied. Iseriasha was unmoved. “Well then,” Theryn said. “I will do what I must.” He withdrew Nero’s bottle from the folds of his robe and waited until Dhaera’s eyes caught sight of it. Then he threw the bottle up into the air in a high arc towards her, and as the Sunnite paladin was distracted, he lashed out with his quarterstaff and struck her upside the head, stunning her. Theryn leaped towards the High Exultant, striking at Iseriasha ineffectually as the woman easily ducked his swings with all the poise and dignity her office allowed. Theryn followed up with a flurry of blows that landed a glancing blow across her face. Then he jumped towards the nearest Glory Guard, who blocked his attack with her shield. Then he retreated, but not before one of the paladins slashed at him with her sword, drawing blood. Iseriasha wiped blood from a split lip on her hand, staring at Theryn and smiling, almost leering, as she licked her fingers clean. “Inspector Theryn, you forget yourself with unnecessary modesty,” Siegfried called out. “There is no need to call for peace – you are the accuser, you are the inspector, and it is your duty to drag darkness kicking and screaming into Sune’s light.” He cast dispel magic on Iseriasha. The High Exultant looked down at her decolletage and then back up at Siegfried with a smirk as the spell revealed nothing. “What are you playing at?” Siegfried smiled. “We thank you for your compliance in our investigation. You are free to go pending any queries that the inspector may have for you,” he said. He then attempted to catch Nero’s bottle and failed spectacularly, slipping in the High Lady’s ashes for a moment as the bottle bobbled off his fingertips. There was a loud crack as the bottle bounced off the stone floor. Iseriasha looked confused for a moment but recovered her composure quickly. She folded her arms across her considerable chest. “Oh, I see, this is a good cop, bad cop moment? I understand. She held out a staying hand to her guards. “I agree that there should be an investigation, but I think that this calls for the Magisters to perhaps sort through what has happened this day, unless you have a compelling reason why we shouldn’t call them down on right now.” “Sune’s beloved rose Varien,” Siegfried called to Varien. “Has the corruption been expunged to Lady Firehair’s satisfaction?” Alec darted towards the spinning genie bottle, not realizing that one of the towering Seraphs behind him had come to life, removing a hand from its position on a plinth beside the door and clawing at the barbarian’s back as he moved. Alec winced as the Seraph’s claws raked him over, but he scooped up the bottle all the same. “Alec!” Erwen called. “Nero’s trapped inside! You have to let him out!” Alec nodded and tossed the bottle up, taking a swing with his mercurial greatsword , shattering it with a mighty swing. “The sacred bottle!” Varien gasped. As the shattered pieces of the bottle rained down onto the floor, there was a puff of purple smoke as Nero of the Garden manifested over its remains. He frowned as he looked down at the bits of broken glass and then back to the barbarian. “You could have just knocked,” Nero said with a reproachful look. “This is going to take me at least an hour to put back together, and that is an hour in which my perfect moment is no longer perfect.” A perfect tear appeared at the corner of his eye. “Well, that’s what we did, knocking the bottle against the ground,” Alec muttered. Nero looked around. “What is going on out here?” Erwen’s eyes flashed with fire as he cast firestorm . Nero clucked his tongue. “There’s no need for this in the Temple of Beauty, my short-statured friend.” He cast counterspell , but Erwen’s magic was strong enough to overcome it. Varien sighed and cast a counterspell of his own, counteracting Erwen’s magic. “Not yet, Erwen,” he said. Erwen’s eyes continued to blaze with anger. He wildshaped into a hulking fire elemental . “And to think I used to look up to you,” he growled in Ignan. Siegfried threw up his hands. “This again!?” Burnwen loomed over Iseriasha, his flames reflected in her eyes. “My, my,” she said. “Aren’t you hot-tempered!” Nero put his hands on his hips and surveyed the scene. “What have I been awakened to here? I was just enjoying a fine nap in my most perfect moment.” He looked down at the pile of ash Siegfried was standing in. “Is that the High Lady?” “Not High, not a Lady,” Siegfried said, shaking his head. “A magically-constructed undead.” Nero’s frown deepened. “Are you certain of that?” he asked, walking past Dhaera. “Pardon me, darling,” he said to the dazed and confused paladin. He looked down at the remains as Siegfried stepped aside, and then looked back towards the Dowry Chamber, addressing the Seraphs. “Zepar or Vassago, I don’t care which, can you check the inventory of the Dowry Chamber for me?” One of the Seraphs bowed, closed its glowing eyes, and cast a spell. After a moment, she spoke in a voice that sounded like ringing tubular bells. “Saint Nero, the Grey Mirror is missing,” she said in Celestial. “What’s that?” Varien asked Nero. Theryn recalled that the Grey Mirror was an object that Dhaera had mentioned as being secreted in the Dowry Chamber. Nero knelt and gently retrieved High Lady Ssaeral’s skull from the heap of bones, tsking as he dusted it off and stared into its vacant eye sockets. “Vanity, they name is Ssaeral Shadowstar,” he said in a reproachable whisper. He placed the skull back atop the pile of bone and ash. “What did this Grey Mirror do again?” Varien asked Nero. Nero sighed, dusting the High Lady off his hands. “Well, it’s quite simple really, going back thousands of years into the history of our faith. A vain and selfish member of the clergy named Belarian the Beautiful, who sought every means available to sustain and enhance both his life and his beauty. The Lady Firehair’s creed teaches of course that beauty is more than skin deep, but Belarian only cared for his appearance. His self-infatuation was so great that he turned from his devotion to Lady Firehair and offered to sell his soul to anyone, god or devil, who would preserve his physical perfection. And he received an answer – a gift of perpetual beauty and a shade of immortality through this artifact. This mirror, when gazed into, reflects the owner, and as long as the owner maintains a regular vigil of vain meditation, all the vagaries of age and anything that would drain one’s life force or essence would instead be transferred to the reflection in the mirror. I would hypothesize that if one were to carefully search the High Lady’s chambers, perhaps her Holy of Holies, one would soon discover the location of the Grey Mirror. It should never have been taken from the Dowry Chamber. It is too tempting for any Sunnite to behold, and yet too beautiful to destroy, I’d wager.” Theryn shifted a glance at High Exultant Iseriasha and gave a self-effacing nod of apology. Iseriasha smiled. “Saint Nero, you are as wise as you are beautiful.” Nero’s returning smile hardened. “Did you just attempt to quantify my beauty, High Exultant? Now, I’m not sure that was worth breaking my bottle and disturbing my rest, but at the very least I’m glad this is all out in the open now. Clearly there was some ill teaching afoot here in the Temple of Beauty if even the High Lady herself was susceptible to such heights of vanity if you’ll excuse the pun.” “On logistics, Saint Nero,” Siegfried said. “Would the natural cause of death have already been occurred, but the penalties owed the Reaper merely postponed as an overdue debt?” Nero chuckled. “Judging from her reaction to the disruption of the spell of longevity conferred by the artifact, I’m sorry to say that she was long past her sell-by date,” Nero said. Siegfried smiled politely at the High Exultant, who pursed her lips. “And to think that if she had stayed upon the path of true beauty, at the end of her natural life, she would have been gathered unto Sune’s bosom in a more perfect form, but now, well, now I shed a tear on her behalf, for she has already been given her reward,” Nero said, as a single perfect tear ran down his perfect cheek. “I do question the doctrinal deviations that led to such an event. Tsk, tsk.” He then conjured a dustpan and broom, and crouched down to sweep up the remains of his bottle. “Well, perhaps it may fall to sainthood to oversee the teaching until a new heartwarder can be chosen, though it’s not my place to speak on this. I shall be quiet,” Siegfried said, sitting down on the nearest pew. “Well said,” Nero said. Varien frowned. “Much has changed from a few moments ago,” he said. He could tell that the members of the Glory Guard were confused and shocked by the pileup of revelations about the High Lady, their spiritual leader having been exposed as a vain pretender and heretic. Varien cast divine sense and could still detect the barest reek of rot beneath the perfume of Beauty’s Temple. It was as though the ringing chimes of the temple were the slightest bit out of tune. He cast zone of truth on the centre of the room and noted that Dhaera, Erwen, Nero and the members of the Glory Guard were no longer able to deliberately lie. Varien also knew Siegfried and Iseriasha were not affected nor bound by Varien’s spell. Varien recited his god’s prophecy. “Where the Obsidian Circle leaves its mark, Vashi claims her holy spark. Arcetalos locked in a crystal prison, in Beauty’s Temple a rot arisen.” He fixed Iseriasha with a steely stare. “Ssaeral is gone, but the rot remains. I know my spell has not purchased your lips, but that puts you next in accountability. So, what say you?” He began to draw Fiendsbane from its scabbard with a ringing sound. Iseriasha’s eyes widened. “What could I say to dissuade your divine quest, Varien Aether? What could I possibly say? You came to this temple speaking the words of Lady Firehair. And yet what have you accomplished so far? The High Lady is dead. Did she deserve it?” “Yes,” Nero said. “And did you know that she was stretching her mortal coil?” Varien asked. “I knew that the High Lady took very good care of her appearance as befitting her station as the High Lady of the Temple of Beauty, and had I known she was persisting in such a sinful course of action, of course I would have corrected her to the best of my ability.” “So, your plea is ignorance?” Varien asked. “Blind, dumb, ignorance?” “Saint Nero of the Garden, what do the scriptures say about someone who speaks falsehoods in the Temple of Beauty to a divinely-sent inquisitor of Sune?” “Well,” Nero said, warming to the subject. “The scriptures are somewhat ambiguous on this point. Allow me first to break down the ontological dilemma faced by such a question.” “The lies on your tongue are ugly,” Varien said. Iseriasha seethed in response. “If you lie again, I will cut out your tongue.” Iseriasha smiled a poisonous smile at Varien. “You presume that I would even allow you that kind of intimate access, Varien Aether. Your line of questioning is asinine. We have a doctrinal crisis here in the Temple of Beauty. If you continue to pursue this nonsensical vendetta you had best do it elsewhere, lest I call for the Magisters.” “Nero, is this a problem for the Magisters to solve, or should this be handled by a Favoured of Sune?” “Well, the death of a High Priestess of Sune is of grave concern,” Nero said. “There are certain jurisdictional issues, and the High Exultant is the de facto, ex officio senior clerical official in absentia…” A bored look crossed Iseriasha’s face as Nero spoke. Her gaze drifted to Bob and then back to Varien. “Well, I know that I have heard enough. You claim to seek a rot and yet you have provided no evidence.” “Is that something else you’re incapable of?” Varien replied. “Smelling the rot?” “I believe you may be misguided, Varien Aether,” Iseriasha said. “Ask any of your paladins to sniff out the rot that yet infests this temple,” Varien said firmly. “But there is no evil rot to be found in Beauty’s Temple,” Iseriasha said smugly. “After all, you have produced nothing, you have caused the death of the High Lady, and you,” at this she turned to Siegfried. “You have your reputation to think about, and that of your family’s do you not?” “Iseriasha,” Siegfried said in a measured tone. “Are you attempting to blackmail me?” “Oh, blackmail is such an ugly word to use in the Temple of Beauty. Not at all. I am merely stating that you have overstepped whatever bounds you think you have. Calling your friend over there, who made me shed more than tears,” she waved a hand at Theryn, “an inquisitor, really? He isn’t even a pilgrim of our faith.” “And what faith would that be?” Siegfried asked. “Look around you!” Iseriasha said in exasperation, indicating the temple decorations. Then she composed herself and smiled. “There is only but one man in this room, saints excepted of course, who has proven to be nothing if not moral and upstanding, a true Favoured Rose of Sune,” she said, looking at Bob pointedly. Bob’s eyes glassed over for a second, and then he shook his head, clearing away Iseriasha’s influence. “Your feminine charms have no impact on me, High Exultant,” Bob said. Iseriasha sighed. “A pity, that. I must be losing my edge.” She frowned a perfect frown. “Well, I have business to attend to. The Seraphs will show you out.” She began to back away from Varien, Siegfried, and Burnwen. “You can leave when I say so!” Varien said coldly. Fiendsbane rattled in his hand. He raised his weapon and struck Iseriasha with righteous intent, releasing a divine smite as he did so. Radiant energy wracked the High Exultant, who recoiled with a shriek that cracked several of the stained-glass windows in the temple. “YOU DARE TOUCH ME WITH THAT HIDEOUS BLADE?” Iseriasha screamed. Fiendsbane vibrated like a tuning fork with revelation. “VASHI!” the sword hissed in Varien’s ear. Iseriasha began to giggle nonsensically as her form began to blur. Her clothing fell away to reveal a shapely, succulent expanse of porcelain-pure purple flesh, and curved horns grew atop her head as leathery wings sprouted from her shoulder blades. She looked down at herself and laughed, her voice dropping an octave. “Oh my, it seems I’ve been exposed!” Her hands and feet twisted into long, sharp talons; all traces of her human glamour removed. She beat her wings lasciviously and laughed anew. The acolytes who had gathered at the periphery screamed in terror and fled from the sanctuary. Siegfried struck at the fleeing succubus with his blade gauntlet, drawing dark purple blood across her bare stomach. Burnwen landed a heavy bash on Vashi, who laughed all the harder as she danced away, retreating towards the recesses of the temple’s sanctuary. Bob stretched out a hand to Vashi. “I think you’re really short on charm, so now I’m going to do you harm!” He cast harm on the succubus. Vashi’s body contorted unnaturally as the virulent disease took hold of her, pustules raising in ridges across her chest and neck. “Is that contagious?” Alec asked, eyes wide. One of the flatfooted Glory Guards shook her head and glared at the succubus, pointing with her greatsword. “She has brought ugliness into Beauty’s Temple! Get her!” She and her companions rushed Vashi. One cast turn unholy , but the laughing succubus disdained the holy attack. Another struck wildly at Vashi, but missed. Theryn leapt into action, running along the wall to give chase to the retreating fiend. He struck her with his quarterstaff, but she shrugged off his stunning strike with a rictus grin. “You’ll have to do better than that, lover,” Vashi leered at the monk, who missed his follow-up attack. “And you’ll have to do better than that,” Theryn said, blocking the succubus’s escape route with his quarterstaff. Dhaera stumbled as Theryn’s stunning strike wore off. “What the hell is going on here?” she said in confusion, holding her head gingerly. “Oh Vashi, this game was over long before this,” Siegfried said authoritatively. “Take a knee.” He cast Siegfried’s undeniable authority and rooted the succubus in place. Vashi batted her long eyelashes as she slowly sunk to her knees. Siegfried smirked. “Drag her to the centre of the room. Her executioner shouldn’t have to walk to the prisoner.” Alec charged at the restrained succubus with his mercurial greatsword upraised. He leaped over the fire elemental, dashed forward, throwing candelabras and censers aside as he raised his sword. “Taste my steel!” he shouted as he brought his sword down on the succubus. Iseriasha took the body blow in stride and smiled upward at Alec, blood showing on her pointed teeth as she theatrically bit her pouting lip. “Hit me again, big boy,” she said in a low, throaty moan. Alec obliged, slashing at her. Vashi gasped and threw her head back in ecstasy as Alec’s sword penetrated her. She shuddered with blasphemous pleasure, and then turned her horned head to regard Varien. Black blood ran down from her mouth over her chin as she blew the paladin a kiss. Droplets of blood hissed like acid on the polished floor of the temple. “Be seeing you,” she purred. Then she exploded in a burst of brimstone, fire and ash that spun in a whirlwind before disappearing. Fiendsbane’s oscillations were diminished. It was kind of rude of your friend to not give me the killing blow, but I’ll take what I can get, the sword said to Varien. That’s one. The Vashi rune on Fiendsbane’s blade turned blood-red. “Six more to go,” Varien said with grim resolve. Behind the paladin, Saint Nero of the Garden finished cleaning up the remains of his beloved bottle. He turned, sighed, and crouched back down as he began to sweep up the dusty remains of High Lady Ssaeral.