“To Pavel!” Sosem yelled, raising his mug. “The Champion of Waterdeep!”

“To Pavel!” The crowded table yelled in unison; Pavel clinked his mug with eight others, before everyone threw their head back, gulping down ale. It had to be ale this time – Pavel had gotten sick of the lager Durnan normally served.

Sosem, his leather vest and white tunic making him look older than he was, finished his ale first and smashed his mug on the table. He threw a hand up towards Durnan at the back of the tavern, who gave a thumbs up in return – the place was too packed tonight to shout out orders.

“First,” The old cleric began. “we must all thank Pavel again for tonight; I was fully prepared to force us all to split the bill, but to cover for us again?!” Sosem shook his head. “No wonder you’re the Champion of Waterdeep!”

Laughter erupted from everyone, a few banging their mugs on the table. Pavel faked a smile and leaned back in his chair, feeling odd with only his tunic and pants on.

He was getting sick of that title already.

Around their table, the Yawning Portal was once again packed to the gills with drunks and merrymakers alike. He was surprised that Sosem had been able to find a table for all nine of them, considering that Pavel hadn’t seen an empty seat anywhere when they arrived, but somehow the cleric had worked his magic. Even the well in the middle of the tavern was occupied, with far too many people crowding its edge. Some even sat on the lip of its stone walls, acting as though their legs didn’t dangle over an abyss.

It seemed as though the tavern was always packed to the brim, regardless of what day it was. Pavel understood why though. He didn’t know where Durnan got his supplies from, but the drinks were always fresh, and the food was always amazing. No wonder everyone in the surrounding districts flocked to it whenever they got the chance – he would too, had he lived in Waterdeep.

Perhaps not four nights in a row though.

Conversation quickly picked up as everyone began to finish their drinks, though much of it had to be shouted over the din around them. No one thanked him for buying the drinks though, but Pavel wasn’t surprised. They hadn’t thanked him last night, or the night before that…or ever since he’d met them, some days ago.

‘Met’ was a strong word though; Pavel couldn’t remember anyone’s name, and not for a lack of trying. He drank with all these people multiple days in a row, yet none of them had ever introduced themselves. They were there, but they may as well have been faceless to him. He wasn’t even sure he could pick their faces out of a crowd if he was forced to.

“You gonna get on with the story?” A man sitting across from Pavel yelled at Sosem. “Been dying to hear it, I wasn’t there when it happened!”

“Yeah!” Next to him, a half-orc woman, dressed in too many furs, echoed the man; she kept eyeing Pavel, though he wasn’t sure why. “I would like to hear it too!”

Pavel stifled a groan.

Sosem had almost broken down Werond’s door again that morning, wanting to pull Pavel out for ‘another day with friends’, as the old cleric put it. Really, he just wanted to show Pavel off to his new ‘friends’. Werond hadn’t been happy about another invasion onto her property by Sosem and his group and had unceremoniously kicked Pavel out before he could stop her. He’d been out with them all ever since and had promised all day to finish up the stories he’d been telling about Pavel the past few days.

“Right, right!” Sosem raised his hands and nodded. “Of course, we need to wrap everything up! Now, I believe I was discussing Pavel’s fight with the Captain of the City Guard, in which –”

“No no no ya old man!” A very grizzled looking elf, leaning halfway onto the table, yelled at Sosem. “You talked about that yesterday! The giant fight!”

“Oh right!” Sosem grinned as everyone else yelled in agreement. “Right, how could I forget? Well, the fight with the giant, as you all heard, was incredibly interesting. Before I can begin though, you must understand, Pavel had fought giants before.” He grinned a toothy grin at Pavel. “He told me himself! So, in order to understand why Pavel did what he did, you must understand what he already knew going into the fight…”

Sosem leaned forward, his white sleeved arms against the table, torch light flickering dramatically in his eyes. Everyone leaned in with him, each and every person utterly entranced by Sosem’s words and the story he was about to tell.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

A story that Pavel had told him in confidence.

He sighed and leaned further back into his chair. Rolling his head to one side, Pavel caught sight of Durnan sending one of his serving girls – workers he wasn’t aware Durnan had – over to his table, carrying a massive platter full of mugs and tankards. Catching her eye through the crowds, Pavel shook his head and mouthed later to the girl. She shrugged and turned back to a surprised Durnan.

He had no intention of paying more for tonight. He had spent all day with these people, including the past three nights as well, and barely anyone had acknowledged him. Not even Sosem, who was the one that pulled him out each day, had the decency to speak with Pavel for more than five minutes.

Nine Hells – he enjoyed the old clerics company the first time they drank together, but now, it became clear that Sosem was simply using Pavel for the perks of his title. Somehow, being ‘close’ to the Champion of Waterdeep made one extremely popular. That popularity, however, only lasted if he could get the Champion to come out each night with him. Like some kind of show dog, paraded around for everyone’s amusement. It had made him feel like anything but a champion. Yet the entire city seemed to disagree with that.

Ever since the botched fight with Harshnag, Serena, Jo, and himself had been harried by what felt like every single person in Waterdeep – they had become famous overnight for taking down a Frost Giant, a feat that granted them near god-like status. Which would have been fine, had the fame they all received been pleasant. As it stood, however, Waterdeep fame seemed to result in all of them being mobbed the moment they stepped out of Werond’s house.

At first, he enjoyed the attention. It wasn’t often that Pavel had swarms of people around him, all clamoring to get his attention and favor. It had quickly devolved when, no matter what he did, the crowds refused to leave him alone. Even when he tried to turn in for the night, people waited outside Werond’s gates, like vultures to a dying animal.

It had been worse for Serena. Evidently, the crowds that had mobbed her and Werond had driven her to a panic attack; she was shaking like a frightened animal by the time Werond had gotten her home. Serena didn’t seem the kind of person to suffer from such an attack, but Pavel didn’t blame her in the slightest. The public could be downright terrifying sometimes.

Excitement rippled through the table as Sosem arrived at the climax of the caravan fight. He gestured wildly, eyes huge, as he told how Pavel had stopped himself from being crushed by disarming the hill giant of his own club, with nothing but his bare hands.

Pavel scoffed and leaned his head back, looking up towards the three stories and packed landings above him. Maybe a mug would come tumbling down and put him out of his misery.

How many people craved something like this? To be recognized and fawned over, propped up as some kind of hero and champion for winning a controlled fight. If that wasn’t enough, Pavel’s winnings from the tournament ensured him an easy life if he didn’t spend it all in one place. He could hang up his weapons now, buy a house somewhere in the district, and coast through the rest of his life with ease. It was the ultimate dream for everyone who had participated in that tournament.

And he hated it.

What had he done to deserve any of it? Despite the praise and fame that he received, Pavel hadn’t beaten Harshnag. He’d held his own against the giant, of course, but he hadn’t come out on top. If anything, had Serena, Jo, and Cruck’aa not intervened when they did, Pavel would have been killed. And yet, no one seemed to care about that. No cared that Pavel had ultimately failed. All that mattered to them was his bravery as he marched out onto the sands to meet what should have been his untimely demise.

Could it even be called bravery in the first place though? Pavel hadn’t stepped out onto the sands that night because he felt no fear towards Harshnag’s awesome figure. If anything, Pavel knew that doing so would have been suicide, yet he did it anyways. Because he had to. Because he needed to prove that he hadn’t lost the skills he had trained so hard to master. Not after the caravan attack.

Not after Parnast.

Bile rose in the back of Pavel’s throat, hot and bitter. He grimaced and swallowed, refusing to wash it down.

That was all he’d done, wasn’t it? Prove to himself, day after day, city after city, that he truly was the solider he’d set out to be. Prove to everyone around him that he was worthy, someone to be trusted, someone whom you counted on to get the job done. He wouldn’t be passed up, shoved into some other meaningless job – no, he was the one that people relied on. That when he was around, everyone knew that things would be alright. Pavel knew what he was doing, after all.

And yet, how many times had that panned out?

Pavel jerked as Sosem slapped him on the arm and shouted about something, the whole table roaring with laughter. He didn’t catch a word of it, and when Pavel simply smiled at everyone, another wave of laughter ripped through them all.

As the mirth died down, and everyone leaned towards Sosem again, Pavel leaned his head back, staring back up at the floors above him. His chest ached as he took in all the merriment above him, and a part of him kicked himself for not inviting Serena and Jo. Perhaps their company would have made the excursion a little better. Though it probably would be unwise to have them all be in the same place. The mobs would have been massive.

As it stood, Sosem had another hour with his retelling of what had happened in the coliseum – another hour of thinly veiled lies, another hour of Pavel with nothing to entertain himself with but his thoughts.

He sighed. A part of him wanted to leave, but he knew that it wouldn’t make a difference. Better to be sitting down and listening to Sosem’s ridiculous stories than mobbed outside by random people.

Hopefully the night would go by fast.