Werond gently closed the office door behind her, despite every fiber of her being telling her to slam it shut.

“’Have a good day’.” She grumbled. “Dickhead.”

Her voice came out as a rumble, nothing like how it normally sounded. Matched with her thick purple robes, Werond wore a helmet that covered her entire face, the front of it decorated with the visage of a woman frowning in anguish. With similar enchantments to her robes, the helm itself distorted her voice to the point that not even her own mother would recognize it.

The two guards that stood outside the office, dressed in intricate plate armor that bore emblems of the city, jerked as they heard Werond’s voice, causing her to wince; she’d forgotten how frightening it could be when one wasn’t expecting it.

She turned and waved in apology as she began down the hallway, the two guards saluting her as she did, gold plate armor chinking.

The early morning sun poured through the massive paned windows on her left, washing over her and the various servants that moved through the hallway, warming all of them. Each servant who stopped to bow to Werond before moving past her appeared somewhat bothered by the heat, and as she tucked her arms into her oversized sleeves, feeling the coolness of her robes wash over them, Werond couldn’t help but feel sorry for them.

She was fortunate that only a single hallway spanned between her and her colleague’s office, compared to where some of the other offices were tucked away. A shorter walk left her with less time to grow angry over their pointless conversation.

Werond twisted her face into a grimace; that man was as smart as he was a pleasure to talk to; their shouting match had reconfirmed that for her.

Despite how long they had talked for, not a single topic her colleague touched on had made sense to her; at no point in their incoherent rambling did Werond find even a speck of logic as to why a Frost Giant, as tall as her house and stronger than a thousand men, would have been allowed in a gladiator like tournament. Werond had known Harshnag for years and had seen the destruction he’d caused with a causal flick of his wrist, leveling buildings and men alike with the same ease of Werond picking a flower from the ground, yet none of that had gotten through to her colleague.

Unable to see past Harshnag’s strength and the danger he posed to a typical contestant, Werond defaulted to the only point she knew her colleague would listen to: coin. At the very minimum, she had argued, the tournament would be a blow out when news would inevitably spread that a giant was competing. The people came to watch drawn out duels, not one-sided catastrophes, and medical emergencies. Not a soul would want to watch a tournament where the champion had already been decided on size alone, an issue that would bleed the city of the revenue made from the festival itself.

Of course, her colleague had stated the opposite, saying that the opportunity to see Harshnag in action, one so famous within the city due to his size alone, would lead to more revenue from the tournament; how many people would go through life never seeing a giant in a fight before, only to be presented the opportunity in one of the most exciting events Waterdeep puts on. The revenue, her colleague had said, would be enough for all of them to swim in coin, should they want to. After all, the citizens of Waterdeep expected a bloodbath, so why not give them the best they could offer?

Werond sighed, her distorted voice like rolling thunder.

She shouldn’t have yelled, but after her colleague flat out stated that no change to the number of healers and clerics would be needed, how could she not?

How that man had gotten this job, she would never know…though she did have her suspicions.

As Werond turned the corner and finally approached the door to her office, the lone guard outside, dressed in similar gold armor as the others, grinned a toothy grin and saluted her. His shortly cropped black hair seemed damp with sweat.

“I take it your conversation didn’t go as planned, sir?” he asked, leaning on his spear, the arrogance of his youth guiding his casual tone towards Werond.

“Damian, when have my conversations gone well with any of them?” Werond shot back; her voice came out rough, deeper than it normally was, almost like Harshnag’s.

“Apologizes sir.” Damian said without truly meaning it. His straightened up. “Your mail came in early, by the way. I put it on your desk. Mostly reports, but I was…” He frowned. “instructed, earnestly, to put a letter you received at the very top of the stack. Courier said it was of the ‘utmost importance that you attend to its contents within the hour’. I wanted to put it at the bottom, but the guy got angry with me when I did.”

Anxiety rose within Werond’s chest; she had a hunch on who had sent the letter.

“Thank you. See to it that no one bothers me unless it is an emergency.” Werond said, pushing open the door to her office. Damian nodded and saluted her again, before resuming his vigil, door closing behind him. After a moment, a dull thunk sounded from it as Damian locked the door.

Finally alone, Werond breathed a sigh of relief; she removed her hands from her sleeves and placed them on either side of her helmet, waiting a moment as the enchantments detected her touch, and unlocked the helmet from her robes.

She dumped it unceremoniously on one of the couches as she strode over to her desk; behind the still massive pile of unread reports, a small collection of sealed catalog envelopes sat in the middle of her desk, with a smaller letter on top of them.

Werond snatched up the letter and, with a guttural sigh, dropped herself into her chair, leaning back as far as it would go. As it hit the threshold and bounced back, Werond leaned forward and placed her elbows on the desk, holding herself in place.

No wax seal was placed on the letter, allowing her to easily open it with her thumb; typically, official documents from the city had to be opened with a letter opener, due to the stronger wax used to seal each one.

Werond pulled a single folded sheet of parchment out from the envelope. She unfolded it and quickly read the message written in neatest handwriting she’d seen.

With a frown, she read it once more.

She furrowed her brows and read it again.

“Gods damnit.” She mumbled.

Childishly, she crumpled the letter into a ball and slammed it against her desk.

Werond leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, letting loose a sigh of frustration, eyes now glued to ceiling.

She had assumed that she’d have another day to figure out the guard rotations and schedules as per her orders, but apparently, Jarlaxle was now in a hurry. The movement of his goods had to happen tomorrow night, for reasons unknown to Werond, though she doubted she’d ever know. She’d have to draft up a new sheet for the times, rotations, and routes today if she wanted to meet his new deadline. Which meant that the rest of her work would have to be placed on hold, a thought that threatened to cave Werond’s chest in from stress.

It would have been much easier had that damned man just specified a date, rather than a vague ‘a week from now’. Though he more than likely did that purposely.

Still, it could have been worse; all that was needed of her were temporary rotations of the night patrols, which, while time consuming, weren’t necessarily difficult to figure after this many years on the job. Not to mention that all the guard captains were already paid off, thus any changes she made wouldn’t be contested. If anything, the greener guards would complain about last minute fixes, but no one important would look too closely at everything. The Thieves Guild paid out too many bribes for them to care.

She rubbed her chin and continued to stare at the ceiling; despite that, planning out everything would still take all day, and Werond had no energy to do it.

She leaned forward and snatched up the crumpled letter and threw it into the trash bin labeled “BURN” next to her desk.

“Completely forgot about that tunnel.” She mumbled. “Been awhile since I used it.”

…

The front door of her house slammed shut, jolting Werond awake.

Serena, stretched out on the couch, head in Werond’s lap, groggily opened her eyes, as who ever came home began to loudly take off their boots in the foyer.

“What time…” Serena lazily signed, glancing out the windows at the front of the living room; with clouds blocking out the moon, only the reflection of the chandelier was visible, its candles beginning to sputter out, casting tall shadows about the room.

“Late.” Werond yawned. “Very late.” She uncrossed her arms and laid a hand on Serena’s stomach, lightly scratching her head with the other. “Go back to sleep, I don’t feel like getting up.”

Without a word, Serena turned sideways and pulled her legs in, scooting herself closer to Werond until she could feel Serena’s breath against her tunic. Barely a moment later, she’d fallen back asleep.

Werond grinned and smoothed out Serena’s skirt, before she leaned her head back against the couch, resting her hand on Serena’s hip.

Before she could close her eyes, however, muffled footsteps sounded from the foyer as whoever had arrived home walked towards the living room. When Werond raised her head back up, she was surprised to see Jo standing in the threshold.

Her grey cloak had been hung up along with her leather chest piece, revealing a sweaty grey tunic matched with dirty black pants. She ran her hands through her messy blonde hair, throwing it behind her shoulders as she walked into the room.

Jo froze halfway to the kitchen, however, when she spotted Werond and Serena on the couch.

“Uh,” she said wearily. “sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt, just –”

“You’re fine.” Werond said quietly. “Don’t talk too loud though, Serena’s passed out.” She gestured to the kitchen. “Graham put a plate for you in the icebox. He made pork sausages and mashed potatoes.”

“Oh, well I’ll have to thank him. Didn’t mean to miss dinner though but uh…” Jo scratched the back of her neck. “Harshnag was ah…a bit much for me today.”

Werond grinned. “Can’t blame you. I love him but he’s very demanding – part of the reason why I woke up so early this morning. Didn’t feel like getting caught with him.”

“Thanks.” Jo said, rolling her eyes.

“Of course. From what Serena told me, you all had an interesting day with him, huh?”

“Well, they did. I slipped off as soon as they weren’t looking. Been out since.” Jo resumed her walk to the kitchen. “You mind if I eat with you?”

“By all…means.” Werond said with a yawn.

She leaned her head back as Jo entered the kitchen and opened the icebox, rummaging through it.

Part of her knew that she should have felt terrible for leaving Harshnag with Serena and the others, though she didn’t. She loved Harshnag like family, but being with him was an all-day affair, one that left her exhausted. It wasn’t until she was halfway to her office did Werond realized she’d forgotten to warn everyone; from how excited he was for the tournament, Werond had guessed that Harshnag would have wanted to train with Pavel and everyone else, which, according to Serena, had been a relatively exhausting affair.

She couldn’t help but grin, however, as she remembered the sight of Harshnag carrying Pavel home an hour before dinner, Cruck’aa and Serena trailing behind them, hunched over with exhaustion. Evidently, Pavel had borne the brunt of Harshnag’s sparring sessions, becoming too sore to move by the end of it all, forcing Graham to help him eat dinner, on the account of barely being able to move his arms. Harshnag had given the barest of apologizes before he thundered off after eating; evidently, many had wanted to spar with the giant that day, and Harshnag had promised all of them that he’d return after dinner. It was anyone’s guess if he’d return before daybreak.

Jo walked back into the living room with her plate of cold sausage and mashed potatoes, along with a glass of water, and settled down on the couch across the coffee table from them.

Werond raised her head from off the couch as Jo began to devour her food, acting as though she hadn’t eaten in a year.

“Don’t make a mess on my couch.” Werond said flatly.

“Oh, sorry.” Jo said, slowing down. “Haven’t eaten all day.”

“Why not?”

“Forgot my coin here. Didn’t think I’d be out for so long.” Jo replied between mouthfuls.

“Were you out the entire time just to avoid Harshnag?” Werond asked.

Jo paused with her fork in her mouth, staring at Werond. She stared back and cocked an eyebrow as Jo swallowed but remained silent.

“What, can’t tell me?”

Jo shook her head as she placed her now empty plate on the coffee table.

“No, I can. Sorry, it’s been beaten into me to be hesitant on discussing certain matters with people, but to be honest, I forgot that you said you wanted to help out.”

“Help out with what?”

“Finding the Cult.”

Werond’s heart leapt into her throat.

“Oh, that’s right!” She said, a bit too loudly; Serena stirred on Werond’s lap, only to settle down as Werond began to gently scratch her head. She lowered her voice. “Gods, I’ve been so busy lately I’d completely forgotten about that. Been a long five days since we came back. Have you all been working on that?”

“Not really. Cruck’aa’s the only one still hellbent on it right now. I helped him a bit a day ago or so, but he’s been too much of an ass lately for me to walk around with him again. And then Pavel’s preoccupied by the festival and Serena is” Jo jerked her chin up at Werond. “currently preoccupied with you, so none of us are really doing much.”

Werond shifted into a more comfortable position, her grogginess now gone.

“Is that why you’ve been out all day today then? Trying to find them? Or…something about them?”

Jo sighed; she had begun to perk up as she ate, but when she spoke, a deep weariness seemed to wash over her.

“Yeah.” She said, running a hand through her hair. “I…don’t know what I was doing if I’m being honest. We know that there’s a hole in the walls somewhere, but where it is, none of us have a damned clue.” Jo shrugged. “So, we’ve been grasping at straws. We know the Thieves Guild owns the tunnel, so the plan is to find a way to contact them and figure out if we can trade for information but…I don’t know how we’re going to do that. Not like the Guild is just…out in the open advertising themselves.” Jo straightened up and crossed her arms. “Honestly, I walked around all night in hopes that something would just…jump out at me. Nothing did though. Nice city at least.”

“I’m…sorry,” Werond said; her heart smashed against her chest, hard enough that she feared Jo would hear it. “Y-you’re looking for a tunnel under the city?”

Jo nodded, grabbing her glass of water.

“Yeah. According to Larion – well, from what Pavel told me, I was driving the wagon when Larion spilled everything – there’s a tunnel that leads from the outside of the city into an inn, bypassing all the guards and everything.” She shrugged. “Pavel said that Larion mentioned that the Thieves Guild runs it, so that’s kind of been where our heads are at. If we can get information from them regarding the Cult, we might get a better lead than just rushing over to the Mere. But again, the Thieves Guild is extremely secretive, and trying to find them is going to take –”

“North Ward.” Werond blurted out.

Jo blinked, then stared at Werond as though she’d just yelled at her to leave.

“What?” Was all Jo could ask.

Werond quietly cursed herself.

“The North Ward would be the best place to look.” She said, forcing herself to remain calm, as she picked her words carefully. “It’s…right by the cliff and probably the easiest to…tunnel into if you’re going from the outside, what with the plateau and everything.”

“I figured that myself.” Jo asked, narrowing her eyes – in what Werond realized was frustration, and not suspicion. “Problem is, there’s a lot of buildings along that stretch and I wouldn’t have a clue as to where to start looking.”

Werond pursed her lips; she knew exactly where the tunnel was but giving away the name of the inn would be too obvious, raise too many questions. She’d just have to nudge Jo in the right direction and hope it was enough.

“Well, if you need a place to start, try the…ah…The Cliffwatch road, right along the edge, and maybe a bit past that, further north. All of those places would be good spots.” Werond paused and chewed on her lip. “I’d see about going tomorrow night, honestly. With the Brightswords Festival ramping up…I bet the Thieves Guild’s going to want to get something through before security tightens for the next couple of days…I guess.”

She cringed at her explanation; Jo, however, nodded.

“That makes sense. How much activity happens in the North Ward at night then? Considering that I’d still need to identify guild members from everyone else.”

“Oh, there isn’t a whole lot. North Ward is pretty sleepy, all things considered. Just…look for people moving crates into a…covered carriage.” Werond grinned and shrugged. “I guess. That’s what all the thieves in children’s tales do.”

“Right, right.” Jo chuckled. “Well, North Ward, Cliffwatch road, tomorrow night, covered carriages. Think I can go with that.” She shook her head. “I don’t know why I didn’t think about asking you. Even if we don’t get a lot from this, at least we have a place to start.”

“Exactly. I’m sure we’ll think of something if this doesn’t pan out.”

“Right.” Jo covered her mouth with her hand and let out a long yawn. “Oh gods, okay, I’m exhausted. Think I’m calling it.”

She stood up from the couch and picked up her plate and glass. Werond nodded to them.

“You can just leave those on the table.” She said. “I’ll stick them in the wash basin when I get up.”

“You sure?” Jo asked. “I mean…you have Serena on you, so…”

“She’ll be fine. Just head up, you look exhausted anyways.”

“Very true.” Jo yawned again. “Alright, good night then.”

“Goodnight Jo.”

Werond watched as Jo turned and dragged her feet out of the living room, exhaustion weighing on her like a heavy blanket. Her eyes didn’t leave the threshold of the living room until Jo disappeared from sight; the slow thumps of her footsteps slowly fading up the stairs.

Heart still hammering in her chest, Werond glanced down at Serena’s still sleeping form; she brushed a bit of hair from out of Serena’s face, her eyes twitching as she did.

“I shouldn’t have done that.” Werond mumbled. “I shouldn’t have done that.”