In a sleepy road, in a sleepy corner of Mariza, lay a sleepy house: leaning on its foundations, teetering over the cobbled road beside it. Trying to stay upright, but struggling through each and every day.

A woman stirs honey into the cup, golden swirls disappearing into tea.

On this quiet night, she hosts a most unusual guest. One with red eyes and a sinister garb. One who speaks words of venom, veiled in a tone of honey.

The two pored over a map, elaborate and old. Looking between places listed that were no more, they set their eyes south. There, they could be certain, lay the object of their desires; even if the reason behind those desires diverged quite a bit between the two.

Those red eyes and soft-spoken words danced about the room, darkening each corner as the necessity of drastic action was made plain to her soon-to-be partner. Adventure does not come without risk; wealth not without bloodshed. 

Minutes dragging on and arrangements made, the two parted ways, having struck a partnership. Returning to her tea, the woman found it cold - the honey in it tasting sickly-sweet. All she could do was wonder, from this sleepy home on a sleepy road ... was this Garden worth it?