John is working in an area of a mine that processes the extracted ores. There is a furnace in one section of the facility. He is in an area where the raw ore with minute traces of gold are being extracted. He is mixing mercury with the ore to pull out any leftover gold. The gold is eaten by the mercury then he pulls out the leftover stone by hand. He then pours the amalgam into a crucible to be placed within the fire. The mercury boils away while he watches over it, leaving only liquid gold. He then sets the crucible with a few others to cool. After they have hardened back into solid gold, he bags them to take to the larger forge to be made into ingots with the main bulk of gold.

John joins a line of people heading out of the mines as they each receive their daily pay, a tiny flake of gold worth nothing much more than a single meal. He then heads into town seeking a tavern to drink the daily stress away. John sits alone and quickly downs two pints of ale. He then rises and leaves heading out into the evening light. He heads down to the nearby river and starts to clean himself. Soon other men arrive as he is leaving, they stop him. They ask for money but when he refuses one produces a knife insisting.

John again refuses to hand over anything to the thugs to which the armed brigand responds by driving the knife into John’s shoulder. John does not react but simply pulls the dagger out of his shoulder that has already stopped bleeding. He turns the knife on the thugs and with three clean slashes, opens their throats. He drags the bodies off into the forest then leaves behind his bloody shirt. He heads back to his home and lays down on the pile of straw in the corner. He shuts his eyes and his vision is replaced by flashes from the night that changed him.

The next morning the visions cease as a bang is heard from his door.

“John! Wake up John, if you are still alive, the sun’s up!”

John walks to the door opening it to find a muscular female

“Cecelia it is my day off, let me rest.”

“I… Brother you look well. Too well. Last week you were covered in sickness but now you have no sores anywhere.”

“It went away after a while; I feel fine now.”

“You were coughing blood and turning black with decay. Nobody has recovered from the sickness so do not give me petty excuses, what have you done?”

“…sigh… fine, a traveler came selling magical cures, so I bought one the last day before he left. It took me three days pay but I drank it and now I am better. I promised to tell nobody of him, he was worried he would be hunted for his recipe.”

“You trusted one of those false hope peddlers? But I suppose the results speak for themselves. Let us go out to the forest and collect apples, I want to make one of mothers recipes.”

John pulls on a shirt and the two of them head through town toward the apple trees in the forest. They wave to townspeople and stop to view the wares in the few stall set up on the main road. They follow a well-established path through the woods and eventually start to find apples on the ground. They spend some time climbing trees to gather a basket of apples. This continues until Cecelia reaches up and her arm stretches just beyond her sleeve. John sees that under her sleeve are ulcers, the key sign that she has contracted whatever plague has been ravaging the locals.

“You are dying sister.”

Cecelia looks away into the distance.

“Why did you come see me today?”

“I… I thought we could have one last good day together because we were both dying. But now I see I was mistaken.”

“Cecelia you should have told me sooner. I can save you too.”

“What? But the merchant is gone is he not? Do you have more of the potion?”

“There was no potion my dear sister, nor was there a merchant. Come with me but be warned, the trial is not easy.”