There is something in the water

Wolfgang recounts the events of the day, suggesting that with some time left, they should prepare for the Queen’s Masquerade Ball. He wonders aloud what Masaki intends to wear to the Queen’s Gala, assuming his companion would have fine attire, though uncertain how fitting it would be for the occasion.

Masaki admits he’ll need to buy something suitable. “Depends on the price,” he says. “I’ll look for something like a fine suit. Maybe a couple of gold.” 

Wolfgang muses, “For a masquerade, I think it’s more vivid—something like a velvet long coat, waistcoat, maybe an ascot tie.” He estimates such attire would cost from ten to several hundred gold pieces, depending on the quality. “It’s a rare opportunity,” he adds. “Might be worth splurging.” Masaki agrees. “Perhaps it is. How about we visit a theatre and see?”

Wolfgang nods. “I’ll need a mask myself anyway.” 

They head into the art district on the city’s eastern side, where the artisan’s quarter known as the Artisans’ Vein is located. The shop Silk and Embers stands out among the elegant storefronts.

Inside, Wolfgang selects a velvet long coat for fifteen gold, a simple but elegant mask for four gold, and an ascot tie for one gold. Masaki chooses a custom-made red and black ensemble with matching accessories. “It complements my white hair,” he explains. For a hundred gold, he gets a finely crafted outfit, complete with ornaments and a headpiece. The tailor promises it will be ready by morning.

Later, as they discuss their plans for the ball, Wolfgang smiles slyly. “A little flamboyance in the Queen’s presence. Matching your red and black—people will think you’re my plus one.” Masaki chuckles. 

They turn their thoughts to gifts. Masaki asks, “Do we need to bring something?” Wolfgang suggests something from his homeland—“Maybe a mosaic, or something to drink.”

They browse the surrounding area and find two shops that might offer a fitting present: The Gilded Canvas, a gallery, and Lockets and Luster, a jeweler’s. They decide on the gallery.

Inside The Gilded Canvas, a half-elven gallery keeper greets them warmly. “Nobles or adventurers? Either way, I smell patronage,” she says. Wolfgang explains they’re seeking a gift for an important host and asks if she has anything depicting the western hills of the kingdom. She disappears briefly and returns with a slightly dusty painting.

The piece—Westwatch at Dusk—shows the hills at sunset, slightly yellowed with age, a small tear in the corner. “It’s an older piece,” she says, “but beautiful. Thirty-five gold pieces.”

Wolfgang examines it closely. He recognizes the signature—van der Rohe, once a painter of the royal court, long deceased. Even damaged, it’s a rare find. Masaki wanders through the gallery, quietly performing a detect magic ritual while Wolfgang questions the dealer.

Wolfgang tests the price. “You mentioned thirty gold pieces?” The woman smiles politely. “Thirty-five,” she insists.

Masaki messages him mentally as the woman cleans the painting. We could offer the Queen an experience instead, he suggests, something unusual. Wolfgang shakes his head slightly. Offering an outing to the Queen? Unusual indeed. They both smirk.

When Masaki finishes his ritual of detecting magic, nothing in the gallery glows with magic—only the items they themselves carry. The two men browse the other artworks: temples, landscapes, and cathedrals of Evermere. Wolfgang pauses before one of the Temple of Luck—the very place he was resurrected. The shopkeeper says she painted that one herself. “Fifteen gold,” she offers. Masaki thanks her but declines.

“I prefer the van der Rohe,” Masaki says quietly. “A religious piece might send the wrong political message.” Wolfgang agrees. “A thoughtful point.”

They ask to have the van der Rohe wrapped as a gift. The gallery keeper ties it with a purple ribbon. Masaki asks, “Do you have official papers for the painting?”

She hesitates. “No certificate, no. That’s why it’s cheaper. But I assure you, it’s genuine. You can have it appraised, and if it turns out false, I’ll refund you.”

Wolfgang nods. “A receipt and short description, please.” She writes one up.

He counts out seventeen gold and five silver, then looks at Masaki expectantly. Masaki sighs and pays the rest. “Thirty-five gold,” he says.

The painting is wrapped carefully. As they step out into the fading light, Wolfgang smiles. “A van der Rohe for the Queen. I’d say that’s a gift worthy of the masquerade.”

---

After hours of walking through the damp forest, the air grows thick with the scent of wet grain and cherry blossoms. The party crests a low hill, and there it is— Kal Lume. A cluster of blue-painted, timber-roofed houses curls around a cobbled square. At its center stands what was once a radiant cherry blossom tree, its petals now faded to the color of old parchment. Where it once glowed pink and gold, it now flickers faintly, like dying embers resisting rain. A soft wind carries the sound of coughing from every direction. No laughter. No hammering. No songs of work. Only the rasp of sick lungs and the drip of a fountain that shouldn’t still be running. A wooden sign greets them at the entrance: Welcome to Kal Lume— Blessed by the Bloom. Its paint peels away with time.

As the group steps into the silent village, shutters crack open just wide enough for fearful eyes to peek through. A pale child points before a woman yanks him back. A thin dog limps across the square, drinks from a bucket beside the well, and hobbles away again.

Daiki squints at the dying cherry tree. “Oh!” Daiki glances at Ashira. “Is this the place you saw in your dream?”

Ash looks unsettled. “This tree… it’s not how I remember the place. It’s like the dream, but it’s not how it should be. It should be beautiful and blooming and glowing.”

Before anyone can reply, the sound of a bell rolls through the air: Pum… Pum…

Daiki looks up sharply. “Maybe that’s the dude trying to contact you, Ash.”

The bell tolls again. Ash shivers. “It could be.” The same resonance echoes in her mind, identical to the one from her dream, and goosebumps rise on her arms.

They spot the bell tower across the square. Its clock reads four o’clock.

Daiki frowns. “The time? Don’t you just look at the sun for that?”

Ash smiles patiently. “We do. But some people like to see it on a clock.”

Before anyone can dwell further, a door creaks open—the second house on their left. A pale, tired-looking man steps out, shovel in hand. His voice trembles. “No magic. No tricks. We don’t want any trouble.”

Amber raises her hands in peace. “We’re just visitors. We mean no harm. What’s going on here?”

From inside, someone yells, “Leave them alone, Nolir! They’ve done nothing wrong!”

The pale man—Nolir—hesitates. “You’re not from here, are you? You bring magic. I see leaves… I see fire.”

Daiki straightens, indignant. “Of course we bring magic! I mean—”

“We don’t like magic,” Nolir interrupts sharply.

Ash interjects quickly, holding up a certificate. “Don’t worry, we’re certified.”

Nolir’s expression hardens. “I don’t care much for certification. The only magic we have here is our tree. But it’s not—”

Amber steps forward. “You also have the magic of friendship,” she offers with a careful smile.

Nolir softens slightly. “Let’s just say this: you’re not from here. If you bring spells into my town, you’ll answer for it. But if you’ve come to help… then by God’s help, we could use it.”

Amber nods. “What kind of help do you need, sir?”

The man studies them warily. “What are your names?”

Amber introduces herself first, polite but firm. “Amber Ablaze, from Evermere. That’s Daiki—the green one—and the blonde lady with the drum is Ashira. She prefers Ash.”

Daiki beams. “And we are Purple Reign! Heroes of the realm! We’ll save you and your precious tree.”

The man exhales, tension easing slightly. “I am the mayor of this town. Please—come inside. Quickly. I’ll tell you what’s going on.”

His house is the largest in the village—solid wood, wide halls, a garden hidden behind tall hedges. Inside, the air smells faintly of dust and tea.

“I’m sorry to drag you in here,” the mayor begins. “The people are afraid—especially of outsiders. Non-humans make them nervous. They fear magic, and with this disease spreading, they think it might be caused by it.”

Amber crosses her arms. “Oui, it sounds a bit racist to me. They fear us without reason.”

“The people are sick,” the mayor says quietly. “We don’t know why. The cherry tree, once radiant, is dying. But the crops still grow. Some of us—like me—remain healthy.”

A butler enters.  “Bring our guests drinks. Water, perhaps?”

Ash brightens. “Tea, please. With lots of sugar.”

Daiki eyes his cup. “Are you sure the water isn’t contaminated?”

“I’ve been drinking it for weeks,” the mayor replies. “It’s clean, from the river.”

Amber leans forward. “What kind of disease? How many deaths?”

“Several,” he admits. “Nine so far. The bodies are kept at the All Faiths Shrine under Father Radim’s watch.”

Amber exchanges a glance with Daiki. “This one is good with plants,” she says. “He could investigate your tree.”

The mayor nods. “All right. But be careful. Some people may fear you. If they question you, speak my name—they’ll listen.”

Daiki asks, “Did you already ask the tree what’s wrong?”

The mayor blinks. “You… talk to trees?”

Amber smiles wryly. “You’ll see. Let him outside. He won’t harm anyone.”

Daiki shakes his head. “No magic. Just… conversation.”

The mayor sighs. “Then no, I haven’t.”

Daiki nods. “Then I’ll see what I can learn.”

Amber stands. “He and Ash will check the tree. You and I will visit the shrine.”

As the group steps outside again, Daiki glances at Amber. “Be careful. And—watch your wounds from last time, okay?”

Amber smiles faintly. “Merci, I’m fine.”

Daiki hesitates. “Do you know anything about weird wolves around here?”

The mayor frowns. “No. But I’ll warn the townsfolk.”

They part ways—Amber heading toward the shrine with the mayor, and Daiki and Ash back to the sickened cherry tree.

---

Daiki crouches near the roots, resting a hand on its bark. The touch fills him with unease—the pulse of life feels sluggish, blocked, fading. “It’s dying,” he whispers. “It feels… evil.”

Ash frowns. “That’s not right.”

Daiki nods grimly. “I’ll try to talk to it.” He settles cross-legged beside the trunk, palm against the soil, releasing his pheromones in a quiet effort to connect.

A faint groan stirs through the branches, carried by the wind—pain made sound. The tree’s presence feels sick, diseased, unable to tell where the rot begins.

“It’s hurting everywhere,” Daiki says softly. “The whole thing.”

While he communes, Ash peers down the nearby well. The water below flows faintly—fresh, moving, not stagnant. “At least the water’s fine,” she notes.

Daiki exhales, worry etched into his barklike features.

Ash turns to him. “Maybe this ties to my dream. The glowing petals, the bell ringing… if the tree dies, something awakens.”

Daiki looks alarmed. “Then we have to keep it alive.”

“Yes,” Ash nods. “Death is part of nature, but not this. A new tree wouldn’t work. This one matters.”

Daiki glances at the watching windows. “Then maybe… distract the people, while I try a little spell.”

Ash smirks. “You’d better know what you’re doing.”

She steps into the square, raising her voice for all to hear. “People of Kal Lume! I have returned!”

Her voice rings through the silent village. “I have decided to bless my best fans with yet another song—yet another gift of hope!”

---

Amber walks alongside the townmaster toward the All-Faith Shrine. Inside, the air is heavy with incense and quiet reverence. “Father, are you here somewhere?” the townmaster calls. A thin, pale man with a bald head and a few strands of gray hair emerges from the back. “Ah, yes, of course, here I am. Master Saras, how can I help you?” His tired eyes settle on Amber. “This here is Miss Ablaze. She’s with two of her friends, doing research.” His gaze lingers. “You are made of fire.”

Amber straightens. “No, monsieur. I am not made of fire. I am simply a humanoid—fire genasi, oui, that is true. However, I am not made of fire. I am partly fire.”

The man frowns. “You’re not from the Nine Hells or something?”

“Absolutely not. I used to work for Clovis Major in Evermere. I patrolled there a lot, and now I’ve sworn an oath to Auctur. I am also a paladin—so I am with God.”

The priest, Father Radim, nods wearily. “What can I do for you?”

“I would like to see the bodies of the deceased,” Amber says.

He glances at the townmaster, then leads her to the back of the shrine where nine coffins rest. Inside lie five men and four women—most older, except for one young woman. All are ghastly pale, their faces sunken. “Terrible,” the priest murmurs.

Amber leans forward. “It looks like it. May I investigate one of the bodies? I promise, I will not cut anything open. I only wish to look.”

The priest hesitates, then nods. “Be my guest.”

Amber ensures her sigil is visible and approaches the youngest woman. “The older ones might’ve died of age,” she mutters. “I’ll examine her.”

The priest identifies her: “That is Zimi Kresmaal, wife of Urth Kresmaal. She worked a crops farm to the west.” The woman’s blonde hair has lost its luster, clinging limply to her scalp. Amber studies her carefully, noting signs of disease but no violence. 

She asks to check inside the mouth. With permission, she opens it—black rot lines the gums and throat. “Where were these bodies found?” she asks.

“All over town,” the priest replies. “This one’s from the west, but others fell ill in bed or collapsed in the street. It’s terrible.”

Amber nods solemnly. “Two of these people are from the same family. Are there any survivors?”

“Yes—Urth and his three children, plus three workers. But they’re all ill.”

“Could I speak to them?”

“Of course.”

Before Amber can move, Ashira’s voice rings out from outside.

Amber excuses herself and steps outside with the townmaster. Ashira stands in the square, preparing to sing.

---

Ashira shakes her head. “Look at them. They deserve enjoyment.” Her voice rises, haunting and melodic. “Are you, are you coming to the tree…”

The Blossom Tree of Kal Lume

Verse 1

Are you, are you,

Coming to the tree?

Where petals turned to ash,

And none were left to flee.

Refrain

Dark winds did whisper here, no stranger would it be,

If we met at midnight 'neath the blossom tree.

Verse 2

Are you, are you,

Coming to the tree?

Where laughter once was sung,

Now silence is the key.

Refrain

Dark winds did whisper here, no stranger would it be,

If we met at midnight 'neath the blossom tree.

Verse 3

Are you, are you,

Coming to the tree?

The sickness took them all,

And left the roots to bleed.

Refrain

Dark winds did whisper here, no stranger would it be,

If we met at midnight 'neath the blossom tree.

Daiki watches, brow furrowed. Amber senses what Ashira is doing—a distraction, likely—and doesn’t interfere. Windows creak open; a child peers out, pale but curious. Then a shout from a nearby door: “Shut up! We need our rest!” The door slams.

Ashira’s confidence falters. Her song darkens, her heart heavy. Daiki crouches by the town’s sickly tree, whispering words of growth. The petals regain a faint blush of pink. “Your song made the tree grow again,” he calls softly to Ashira.

She forces a small smile, though her eyes stay troubled.

---

When Amber and the townmaster leave for the Kresmaal farm, he warns her, “He can be cranky—he’s lost his wife and father. But he’s good to his girls. Three of them, and three young workers.”

At the farmhouse, a pale man in his thirties opens the door. “Yes? What do you want?”

The townmaster introduces Amber. She dips her head. “Monsieur, I am Amber Ablaze. My condolences for your loss.”

He nods stiffly, grief shadowing his face. “Come in, if you like. We’re all a bit ill.”

Amber hesitates but steps inside. “I hope to learn what’s causing this sickness. If I may ask about your symptoms?”

He gestures weakly for her to sit. “It began less than a week ago. We got tired, pale. No appetite. It’s like the life drains away.”

A small girl rushes in. “Daddy, who is she? She’s fire!”

“She’s a nice woman,” he reassures. “Now, go fetch some water.”

Amber asks about the illness—where it started, whether the animals are sick. Urth explains, “Most are. The horses are ill, the cows are fine. The tree in the town center is dying, but the cherry blossoms in my backyard are thriving. I grew them from the town tree’s flowers.”

Amber frowns. “Curious…” She suspects something beyond disease—perhaps a curse. Her mind races, recalling whispers of blights born from the Feywild or the Shadowfell. None match perfectly, but the pattern feels wrong.

“May I speak to one of your children?” she asks.

He calls for Didi, one of the twins. The girl appears, color faintly returning to her cheeks.

“Bonjour, Didi,” Amber smiles. “You’re very pretty.”

“Thank you,” the girl says shyly.

“You’re tired too, yes?”

“Mostly tired. I want to play, but then I just want to sleep.”

“How long?”

“I don’t know. A little bit ago.”

The father adds quietly, “About a week. It’s slower with the children.”

Amber listens, thoughtful. “You drink water, yes?”

“Yes, from the well.”

“The one by the tree?”

“Yes.”

She turns to the townmaster. “And you?”

He smiles faintly. “Ah, I had a system installed. Draws from the river, purified by magic.”

Amber’s tone stays light. “Fascinating. Could I see it?”

“Of course.”

Before leaving, she blesses the house quietly, hands trembling as she prays for their healing. Then, while the mayor’s back is turned, she presses her own waterskin into Urth’s hand. “Have your daughters drink this—not the well water.”

He stares, confused but grateful. “Thank you. I’ll give it to her.”

Amber slips outside and rejoins the mayor, heading toward his home to examine the pipes. Across town, Daiki finishes his ritual. His eyes glow faintly as he surveys the area. Nothing magical stirs in the water—but within the tree trunk, faint conjuration magic pulses like a heartbeat.

“Amber, Amber, please wait for us,” Daiki calls, looking toward her. “I want to check the trees at the mayor’s place.”

Amber exhales, but not her usual exasperated sigh. This one carries relief; she realizes she doesn’t suspect the mayor entirely, and that Daiki and Ash might be sharing her doubts too.

A man leans on a pitchfork nearby, rolled-up sleeves revealing pale skin and shadowed eyes. He smiles politely. “Hey, mayor. Who is that?”

“Hi Rervor, this is Amber Ablaze. And if I remember correctly, Daiki and Ashira are coming now, too. They’ve come to help.”

“That’s correct,” Amber confirms.

A grey cat brushes against Rervor’s leg and walks away, observing the newcomers. “Yes, I was just about to show them my water installation,” the mayor says. “Hello.”

“Bonjour,” Amber replies politely.

“Well, if you need any help, let me know,” Rervor offers.

“Thank you,” Amber says, considering that they may have questions later.

The man is wiry, with calloused hands and faint scars along his wrists and jaw. Amber notes his brows are dusted with early beard growth.

The group continues towards the mayor’s house. Just around the corner, there’s the pipe from the river. A pipe runs from the river toward the garden. Daiki sees transmutation magic inside the pipe: that’s probably what’s pulling the water, as the mayor said, into the building.

The mayor beams. “Yes! It’s beautiful—this water now reaches the faucet inside the house. I can open and close it anytime, and I have fresh water whenever I want. It goes to the plants, the trees, and even the fountain.” He pauses, frowning. “Wait… it could be the water. We’re the only house with this system.”

Daiki grins. “Well, glad you noticed this.”

Amber interrupts softly. “I didn’t want to insinuate anything, but you are the only one not pulling water from the… well, like everyone else.”

Daiki nods. “Yes. And those trees—are they the same as the cherry tree in the square?”

“They are children of the cherry tree in the square,” 

Daiki turns to the mayor. “I have a question. I think we can reasonably suspect the water is the cause, but how much do you know about the tree in the square?”

Amber adds, “Contaminated.”

Amber watches the mayor closely as Daiki speaks about the strange things he found in the tree — that it might be magical, that the water could be contaminated. She sees a flicker of realization in the man’s expression, a shock that looks almost like an epiphany. The man’s concern seems sincere.

Amber leans in. “Um, yeah. Daiki, you talked to the tree, correct?” Her tone carries double meaning, as though she’s asking more than her words imply. “Did you find something?”

Daiki exhales. “Yeah. I talked with it. But the tree is in pain — it couldn’t tell me much more.” He glances between the others. “I know you’re all afraid of magic, but since it’s just the four of us here, I tried a little. The tree reacts to magic — it glowed more brightly for a second. I’m actually detecting magic right now. There’s transmutation magic in the pipes, and something else inside the tree itself. That’s why I was asking if you knew whether anything was inside it.”

Amber continues to study the mayor’s face.

He shakes his head. “I do not know. We built this town around it years ago — it was such a beautiful tree that we settled here.”

Daiki frowns. “Well… okay. Do you have any records or stories about the tree? My friend here, Ash, had a horrible vision. Do you want to tell it, Ash? Or should I?”

Ash looks drained. “I’ll let you tell it.”

Daiki nods. “She’s very tired. What happened is—she had a vision. It made sure she couldn’t rest. The vision showed this exact tree — the reason we came here. And it showed that if the tree dies, something will awaken. At least, that’s what Ash believes. Right, Ash?”

Ash nods faintly. “Yeah. I saw it.”

“Exactly,” Daiki says. “So perhaps the thing I sense inside the tree is part of that — a summoning, maybe. I can’t really identify the magic beyond it being conservation magic.”

The mayor rubs his temples. “I have no idea. Do you think it has anything to do with the disease spreading?”

Amber steps forward. “Monsieur, if I may—perhaps it’s the water, or the tree, or the tree contaminating the water. The roots might be close to the pool; that could explain it. I think the reason you’re still healthy is because you have your own water system.”

The mayor’s face hardens with resolve. “We must tell the townsfolk not to drink from the well.”

Daiki raises a hand. “I have one last question. You mentioned humans and tieflings are okay here… Do you know Bel, the Duke of Hell?”

Amber interjects softly, “First Lieutenant of Zariel.”

The mayor stiffens. “Excuse me? You’re asking if I know a devil?”

Daiki shrugs. “I don’t know, I’m just checking—”

Amber explains, “She had a vision of him, leading her to the tree.”

The man’s expression twists. “We do not concern ourselves with devils or demons or such evil creatures. We do not want to know of them.” The mayor’s face betrays shock — not just insult, but fear. At the mention of a creature from Hell, he seems genuinely unnerved.

Daiki nods slowly. “Well… I have an idea. Does this town have an inn?”

“Yes,” the mayor says quickly. “The Drunken Piano.”

Amber asks, “Can we stay the night?”

“If needed, yes,” he answers. “I’ll arrange it.”

“Good,” Daiki says. “Two of our other party members will join us tomorrow. I also want to see the tree at night.”

The mayor nods. “It’s visible from the inn — right next to the square.”

He explains that it’s a small inn, mostly used by traders passing through. “It’s owned by Nettie,” he adds.

Amber smiles faintly. “Okay, let’s go there then. We’ll decide tomorrow what to do next.”

Daiki agrees. “Yes, but tell everyone not to drink from the well for now.”

“I’ll make sure of that,” the mayor promises. “I’ll tell people to fetch water from the river instead.”

Amber thanks him. “Thank you so much for your cooperation, Monsieur.”

He nods. “Let me take you to the tavern. I’ll ask Nettie to let you stay for free — it’s the least we can do.”

He leads them through the square to a modest building. When he knocks, a woman opens the door. “Oh, hello! What’s going on?”

“These people are friends,” the mayor says. “They’ve discovered the disease might come from the well. Please, no one should drink from it. Take water from the river. They’re helping us with their research — could they stay the night?”

“Of course,” she says warmly. “Come in. I’ll show you to your rooms.”

Daiki hesitates. “I don’t actually need a room, unless you have rules about not sleeping outside.”

The woman looks surprised. “Where outside would you sleep?”

“Somewhere in the grass,” Daiki answers.

Amber smiles. “Maybe behind the inn — there are some beautiful trees.”

Daiki nods. “Yeah. That’s fine.”

“Of course,” the woman says. “You can sleep behind the trees.”

“Thank you,” Daiki murmurs.

The mayor nods. “I’ll go tell the townsfolk not to drink from the well. I’ll post a sign too.”

“Thank you,” Daiki says.

“Merci, Monsieur. Au revoir,” Amber adds.

“Goodbye,” he replies, and walks off into the square.

Nettie smiles faintly and calls for a young girl named Soudra to prepare the room. “She’s our barmaid, helps with everything here. My husband’s around too, though he’s a bit down lately. He plays piano — you can ask him if you’d like a song.”