Once again, we'll start the week with the map showing the location of the neighborhood we'll be covering:

Streamside is a long, narrow neighborhood tucked in between the lake to the southwest [which I really ought to name] and the forest to the northeast. It takes its name from the small river that runs through the neighborhood from the forest and into the lake. Like much of Lüm, Streamside is built on marshy ground, with a combination of magic and physical supports providing solid foundations for building. The exception is the northeastern edge, near the forest, where the surface is somewhat more solid. With this scenic position and its location away from the city's main thoroughfares, Streamside may seem like it should have attracted wealthy residents and become an affluent enclave like nearby Greenwood or East Island. That it has not and remains a solidly middle-class neighborhood is because of two main reasons.

One of these is the fact that before the city spread to envelop it, Streamside saw use as a cemetary. The dead had to be buried somewhere, and there was only so much room in the Old City, so as the city spread this area, tucked behind the cropland of what is now Cressfield, saw use for this purpose, the picturesque and isolated area providing a suitably pleasant final resting place for the departed. Some of the dead were interred in the solid ground at the forest's edge; others were enclosed in coffins that were sunk directly into the marsh, with markers erected at their locations—although not all those markers may have survived the passage of time. Even now, some of Streamside's modern structures may be built atop dozens or hundreds of forgotten dead, and undead are an acknowledged presence in the area, though seldom a dangerous one.

The other factor that has kept property values in Streamside from rising too high is its reputation as something of a den of iniquity. This goes back to the time after the city had spread east past the lake, and when the watermills of the Mills were still in operation and important parts of the city's infrastructure. The neighborhood of the Mills was then populated mostly by rough laborers, some of whom sought a place to let off steam, and Streamside seemed the ideal location to establish services to accommodate them, separated as it was from most of the city and still largely undeveloped due to the aforementioned use as a cemetery. While modern Streamside may not be quite as lurid as an anything-goes as it once was, it's still the site of a number of gentleman's clubs, massage parlors, and somewhat discreet brothels that have helped keep out the upper classes, and its residents have a reputation (not of course always deserved) for licentiousness and lax morals.

One of the most notable landmarks in Streamside is the Wizard's Tower, a tall structure that floats above the edge of the lake, accessible from the mainland via two bridges. The Wizard's Tower was one of the first brothels to be opened in Streamside, and one of the most profitable. (It was originally constructed on the lakeshore, but once they could afford it its owners paid a mage to move it to its current location and place the enchantment upon it that keeps it aloft.) By the time the lawless early days of the neighborhood were waning and such establishments couldn't operate as openly as they once did, the owners were wealthy enough to pivot into more legitimate pursuits—mostly, at least; while some prostitution may still go on there under the table, it's no longer the Tower's main business. Now, the Wizard's Tower is primarily a hotel, restaurant, and resort, and a very successful one. While the name was originally a gimmick, its owners have since leaned into it, giving a discount to guests and patrons who can demonstrate some spellcasting ability, and even establishing an actual wizard's school on the second floor where interested patrons can learn real (albeit elementary) spellcasting from wizard instructors.