The night was dark, the streets were empty, and for the first time in days, Jo could finally hear her own thoughts.

She shivered, and pulled her grey cloak tight around her body, turning the corner onto Warrior’s Street. Streetlamps illuminated the long, empty road, not a soul awake at this time of night. The stone buildings on either side of the street where all locked up, dark windows eerily watching as she passed. Only a moment ago did the bells toll twice, the latest that Jo had been up for quite some time.

With a smile, she slowed down, halting at the edge of the crosswalk. Basking in the yellow light of a streetlamp, she breathed in, held it, then exhaled slowly, watching her breath twirl and dance into the night air.

It felt nice to be alone after the tournament, what with all the attention they had been receiving since. It was enough to drive someone to a nervous breakdown, which unfortunately had already happened to Serena. Poor girl had been absolutely mobbed and had come home a shaking mess. Serena didn’t seem like the type to get to that point, but when you’re surrounded by a massive crowd all clamoring for your attention, well…even Jo could see herself panicking. Thank the gods that Werond was there.

Her smile dropped. Though the attention didn’t hit Jo as hard as it did Serena, she still didn’t enjoy it. Jo had never been a popular person, a fact that suited her just fine. Her stint with Tempus’s Swords taught her to stay out of the public eye whenever she could, and despite having been out of that life for many years now, she couldn’t shake the habit.

“Nine Hells.” Jo muttered. She leaned against the streetlamp, irritation washing over her at just how ridiculous the public had been these last few days.

As irritating as the mobs were, they eventually dispersed and left her alone; it was the men that followed her all over the city that truly bothered her. Many felt the need to pester her with questions regarding her fight with Simon, utterly in awe of her fighting prowess. It didn’t matter to them that she’d lost. There was something about her that drove those people to go on and on about her form and technique and where she’d learned it and if she could teach it to them and whatever other inane things they would ask her before she’d eventually bolt off. Sometimes she’d evade them, sometimes they remained with her all day.

The City Guard was, unfortunately, even worse, and of no help. Jo was stopped each time she ran into a patrol, which happened to an infuriating degree. Some guards praised her, saying that she was obviously too inexperienced to handle Simon in a fight, but that her best effort was simply amazing. Other guards had outright mocked her, though they said much of the same as the others, just with more colorful names. And of course, she couldn’t just run from them, as that would be too suspicious. Thus, Jo had to smile and nod politely until they tired of their conversation, which could last an hour, depending on the guard.

She sighed and banished the thoughts from her mind. What was the point of freeing herself at night if she was just going to worry about everything?

Another shiver ripped through her, despite her cloak. Jo mumbled a curse, pushed off the lamppost, and crossed the street to the other side.

As much as she’d prefer to enjoy the peacefulness of an empty city, Waterdeep got damn cold at night. Stay out any longer and she’d freeze in place. Unfortunately, despite the desire to turn in, Jo had to figure out who was following her first, least she led them right to Werond’s house.

Jo glanced backwards, smirking as the man, or whoever it was beneath their ridiculously oversized cloak, crossed the street behind her. He did nothing to hide his intentions. Jo had led her pursuer all around the city, purposely walking in circles to see if the man noticed, but he never did. Though that told her that he was of no threat to her, Jo didn’t want to risk leading him back to where she was staying.

Up ahead, the mouth of an alleyway yawned wide between two buildings. Jo turned on her heel and stepped in, flattening herself against the stone wall. It didn’t take long for her pursuer to follow, footsteps echoing into existence as he drew closer.

The minute his cloaked form rounded the corner, Jo seized him by his hood and yanked him into the alleyway. The man yelped as he fell face first onto the filthy stone.

Without skipping a beat, Jo grabbed the man and hoisted him back up. Twisting an arm behind his back, she slammed him into the alley wall, forcing out a squeak of surprise.

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“You’re doing a real shit job at being subtle.” Jo leaned in and hissed in the man’s ear, earning a second squeak. “Who the hell are you? What do you want with me?”

Jo expected some kind of resistance – a curse about her mother or an attempted escape. Instead, the man burst into tears. Loud, messy, irritating tears.

“I-I-I’m sorry!” The man wheezed, nasally voice muffled. Jo’s eyes went wide; he sounded no older than twelve. “I-I-I d-didn’t me-a-an –”

Jo released her grip and spun the man around. She gasped; she had slammed a child into the wall, though he looked closer to nineteen than twelve.

“I-I I’m sor-r-ry ma’am.” The boy sniffed through his sobs; tears rolled down his pudgy cheeks, and as he wiped them away, the hood of his cloak fell, revealing a massive bush of brown hair. “I-I-I didn’t-t-t me-an t-t-that, I-I-I…” His voice broke off as another sob racked his body.

“Oh gods…” Jo mumbled, then spoke up. “No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have slammed you like that.” She began to dust the boy off, wincing at the shame that filled her chest. “That was…rather rude of me.”

“I-It’s o-okay.” The boy sniffed; he grabbed a section of his cloak and blew his nose with it. Even his tunic seemed too big, although he was rather heavyset. “I-I just wanted to t-talk to y-you, but I d-didn’t know h-how to stop you or w-what to say, so I just…”

“Kept following me until I thought you were a threat?”

The boy’s shoulders sagged. “Y-yeah. S-sorry.”

“It’s uh…” Jo swallowed. Had he been any older, she’d have run the boy off by now. But seeing someone so young in such a state tugged at forgotten heartstrings. “It’s fine. I’m sorry I handled you like that.”

“I-it’s o-okay.” The boy turned away. “I-I should-d get g-going though, s-sorry for –”

“No, no, you’re here and talking to me. Just tell me what you wanted to say.” Jo crossed her arms; she had no desire to listen to the boy, but after all that, it was the least she could do. “Make it quick though, I’m freezing.”

The boy turned back and perked up, puffy eyes wide. “Really?”

Jo cocked her head and looked pointedly at him.

“O-oh, right, okay! Um…” The boy cleared his throat a few times, a horrible noise, before steadying his breath. “What if I told you that there was a weapon to trump all weapons? Like, something that could –”

“Skip the used wagon-salesman act.” Jo said, waving a hand. “Heard it before. Get to the point.”

That threw the boy for a loop.

“O-oh, okay, well, uhm…” He blinked, then stuck a hand in his pants pocket, fishing out a crumpled and sweat stained piece of parchment. “Well, uh, my dad was an engineer before he died, and I uh…kinda took up what he was doing. He was working on this but couldn’t figure it out…but he was pretty old and didn’t like getting help. So uhm…I uhm…” He handed it to Jo. “I’ve been working on it and actually made some progress, but everything is still, uh, experimental, I guess. Uhm…I wanted to know…well, I thought…”

The boy began to rattle off technical terms that threatened to knock Jo out where she stood. She’d worked with engineers before and always found the work mind numbing. Ignoring him, Jo flipped open the parchment, glancing over schematics for a weapon, one that would be completely unrecognizable to anyone who didn’t know what they were looking at.

To Jo, however, it was a weapon she knew all too well.

“Kid!” she yelled, eyes wide; the boy jumped and fell silent. “Where did you get this from?! Did you steal it?” She glared at him. “Don’t bullshit me either. I’ll know!”

“I didn’t steal it!” The boy threw his hands up. “I swear! I –”

“Then where did you get this?”

“My dad made it!”

“Your dad made this.” Jo shook the parchment. “You expect me to believe that? The amount of people who even know that something like this exists is…”

Jo grimaced and snapped her mouth shut; the boy’s face twisted in confusion. He wasn’t going to know anything.

But how in the Nine Hells did he have something like this? Weapons like these had been under wraps for years in the Swords and wouldn’t be out in civilian hands like this. Even if what the boy said was true, how had someone in Waterdeep gained access to them? Jo hadn’t been with the Swords in just over a century, but she couldn’t imagine the outfit being this lax.

Or how, out of everyone to ask, the boy asked her.

“Never mind.” Jo shook the parchment again. “Why did you want to talk about this with me? I know what this is, but what was your justification? You don’t just get lucky like that.”

“Well, uhm.” The boy hid his hands behind his back. “You uh…you kinda acted like my dad used to. At least, from what mom said. When you fought the Guard Captain, I mean. I described it and mom said it was similar. So, I thought you’d be interested, I guess…you could pitch in or…something…”

It was the most ridiculous reason Jo had heard in a while, and with how the boy’s voice trailed off, he seemed to agree. Adolescent logic was never sound.

Shaking her head, Jo folded the parchment and handed it back to the boy.

“Well regardless, you said you’ve had some success with it? I want to see it then. If I like it, I suppose I can invest in it.” The boy’s eyes went wide; Jo held up a finger. “If I don’t like it though, I’m taking it. I don’t know who your dad was or what he did, but you shouldn’t have access to any of this stuff. I can’t trust that it won’t slip into the wrong hands. It’ll be for your own safety. Deal?”

“Deal!” The boy’s voice broke as he yelled; he didn’t seem understand the gravity of Jo’s words, but that suited her fine. “We can go see it now! Mom should be asleep though, so we’ll have to be quiet. Come on!” The boy turned on his heel and began to jog out of the alleyway.

“It’s at your mom’s house?” Jo asked, moving to follow.

“Yup! But that sounds…dumb, so I call a better name.”

“Which is?”

“The Citadel of the Arrow!” The boy grinned. “Pretty cool, right?”

Jo could only roll her eyes, words failing her utterly.