February 14th, 1588 - Stuttgart, Holy Roman Empire The Church of the Beanmeister worships an incarnation of God, fittingly known as the Beanmeister. The Beanmeister is described as a tall, stoic man wearing white robes and carrying a pitch black staff tipped with a pale green orb, though the religious groundwork established by the Church of the Beanmeister does not mention anything regarding the Beanmeister’s abilities or motives. Other than this, we know very little else about the Church of the Beanmeister’s practices. Despite this lack of information, the Church of the Beanmeister’s reach is considerably larger than originally anticipated.

Sauer, Reist, and Schubert stood in the heart of the Bean Research Facility with the other researchers. Fischer was lying on a patient’s bed, his small frame shaking, though he tried to keep himself composed.

“I j-just w-woke up this morning, and it was th-there…” Fischer stammered, staring at the dark red growth above his left elbow, about the size of a pebble. It almost looked like a large mole. “P-Please tell m-me it is n-not what I th-think it is…”

“We should, not assume, what it is. There is, still much, we do not know,” Meyer said.

“It is obvious that the Beans are involved somehow,” Lehmann said. “It would be foolish to suggest otherwise, given the growth’s appearance.”

“Maybe this is how they took over France without anyone realizing,” Schubert said. “It just looks like a weird growth, nothing too suspicious if you don’t know about the Beans.”

Sauer was reminded of his first conversation with Schmidt. “There were reports of growths on the infected in Paris when the rumors about the dead walking the streets at night were at their height. Perhaps the rumors from Paris were about the Beans, after all…”

“Nonetheless, it is safe to assume that the growth on Fischer’s arm is related to the spread of the Beans,” Lehmann said.

“O-Oh m-my G-G-God…” Fischer whispered. “Th-They are i-inside of me…”

“I know this looks bad…” Reist began. She was shaking. “But we should confirm that there are beans inside of Fischer before we entertain any… theories… This may be something else entirely…”

“It does kind of look like a weird wart,” Schubert said.

Lehmann picked up a scalpel and turned to Fischer. “There is only one way to confirm our suspicions.”

Fischer’s eyes went wide as he grabbed for the half empty glass of wine next to his bed, which Reist had made to relax Fischer before the operation. “Just, g-give me a few m-more m-minutes… Let me c-calm my nerves before you do anything p-painful…”

Reist handed him a piece of willow bark to bite on as Lehmann replied, “I am a skilled surgeon. You will only feel a slick prick in your arm, you will barely notice it. There is no need to worry.”

“You w-would not be s-saying that if y-you w-were the one getting your a-arm sliced o-open…”

“I think it would be best for Fischer to be restrained while I perform the operation,” Lehmann said. “I would prefer to keep unnecessary harm to a minimum.”

“B-Because having a b-bean in my a-arm is not u-unnecessary harm?” Fischer said, beginning to hyperventilate.

“Oh, calm down,” Schubert said. “You’re not going to die, you just have a bean in your arm. It’ll be out before the end of the day and we can all get back to work. Just take some deep breaths and stop freaking out.”

Fischer put the willow bark between his teeth as Sauer, Reist, Schubert, and Meyer held his limbs down. Lehmann prepared to operate, examining Fischer’s left arm closely. Lehmann’s sarcastic aide, a lanky man with long, black hair, transcribed as Lehmann spoke. “The growth of unknown origin sits five centimeters above the patient’s left elbow… The growth appears similar to the Crimson beans currently stored within this research facility, which we acquired three weeks prior. The growth is a similar size to our samples, slightly under four centimeters in diameter, and spherical in shape, though half of it lies below the patient’s skin. First, I am going to make an incision on the growth with a scalpel.”

Fischer closed his eyes tight, turning his head away as Lehmann slowly cut the growth open. Nothing happened.

“The growth seems similar to that of a Crimson bean; a similar texture and color inside, though unresponsive to outside stimuli.”

“W-Wait, you d-did it already?” Fischer asked, turning to look at Lehmann. “I d-didn’t feel a th-thing!”

Schubert sighed, “Guess that rules out a weird wart.”

Lehmann replied. “It is a good sign, if this does turn out to be a bean. It would be upsetting if the growth allowed you to feel pain. That would mean that the beans were able to fundamentally connect themselves to the bodies of humans and create a symbiotic relationship with their hosts.”

Fischer’s eyes were wide. “I w-would like it if y-you d-did not discuss th-this in fr-front of m-me...”

“Understandable.” Lehmann continued the operation, his aide still taking notes. “Next, I am going to attempt to remove the growth from the patient’s body. I would advise you to return the bark to your mouth, Fischer.”

Lehmann lowered the scalpel, performing an incision where the growth met the skin. Fischer tensed, the researchers holding him down preparing for him to react.

A single drop of blood formed under the growth, rolling down Fischer’s arm as Lehmann continued to cut. Fischer groaned as he bit harder into the wood protecting his teeth. The growth remained motionless.

Finally, Lehmann removed the growth from Fischer’s arm. Blood pooled around the wound, dripping onto the bed, staining the sheets. Lehmann carefully placed the growth in a jar and returned to Fischer’s arm, looking into the wound.

Lehmann stopped. “My God…” he said, his mouth hanging open. “There are more beans inside of you…”

Immediately, Fischer began to thrash, the thin thread holding him together finally snapping. “Get them out of me!” Reist, who was holding Fischer’s left leg, was kicked hard in the shoulder, knocking her into a shelf filled with reports. Meyer and Sauer strengthened their grips as Schubert let go of Fischer’s other leg, backing out of his range.

Lehmann, his eyes wide, stared at the wound on Fischer’s arm, “This… is an interesting discovery…”

“Get them out! Get them out! Get… them out!” Fischer screamed, his voice getting hoarse. As he screamed, his eyes rolled back into his head before it fell to the side.

“Did he just die?” Schubert asked.

Meyer checked his pulse. “No, merely, unconscious.”

Sauer let go of Fischer. He stared at the small, pale man lying on the bed in front of him.

A man with beans inside of his body.