[ WP ] `` A lot of people are calling you a hero . '' `` A lot are n't . ''

*Note: This continues a story I wrote for another prompt [ here ] ( http: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2zamtd/wp_you_get_so_drunk_you_black_out_when_you_wake/cphazox ). Not sure if this violates the `` personal subreddit'' link rule, since it's just another prompt. It's kind of fun to chain things together, so I figured why not. * 
 
 The city was eerily quiet. People were doing the sensible thing and cowering in their houses, waiting to see how the King reacted, so I had the streets almost entirely to my self. Almost. I made it down to the river before I realized that the story of a man covered in dried blood might catch official notice. Thankfully, I had made some solid friends in the bars and taverns along the riverside, friends of the sort who owed me favors and would n't be able to shut the door in my face. 
 
 I picked the lock on a tavern called the Broken Mast. The common room was empty except for a drunk snoring loudly in the corner. I shut the door behind me as quietly as I could, and made my way to the bar. The crackling snores were an unhappy reminder that my thumping hangover was n't going to go away on its own. 
 
 The water barrel was shut tight. I banged around behind the bar for a bit, trying to find something to pry it open, but had n't gotten very far before I heard a step behind me. 
 
 `` Put your hands on the bar and do n't move.'' 
 
 `` Good morning Solom,'' I said cheerfully. I complied with his orders, of course, since Solom was a paranoid git who might cut my throat just to make a point. 
 
 `` What the hell are you doing in my bar,'' Solom grated. It was more of a resigned statement than a question. I turned and saw that he was holding a long knife casually in his right hand. The edge reflected a sunbeam and my smile wavered. 
 
 `` Need a place to clean up,'' I said, nodding down to indicate my bloodstained clothes and hands. He blinked and took a step back. 
 
 `` Holy shit,'' he whispered. He slid the knife into a pocket and crossed his arms. `` It *was* you.'' 
 
 `` Can I get off the bar?'' I asked. He stared at me, one eye twitching, as I slowly stood up. `` I need to call in that favor you owe me.'' 
 
 `` Favor? How about this. Stay right where you are,'' he said. `` I'm going to wake up the crew. We need to talk about our next moves.'' 
 
 So I stood behind the bar not moving while he stomped around the back rooms. By the sound of things, no one was particularly happy about being awoken, but Solom had a way with words and joint locks that could raise the dead. In a few minutes a group of three bleary eyed and tired looking men shuffled around the bar. They perked up when they saw me, but my heart sank when I recognized them. 
 
 `` A lot of people are calling you a hero,'' said Old Sarge. He never told anyone his real name, but he had been a bonafide rebel, back when the fighting was still going on, and he had the scars and the brand to prove it. He'd always been a maudlin drunk, but now he seemed happier than a kitten with a ball of yarn. 
 
 `` A lot are n't,'' said the man to his left. I did n't recognize him, but he was much younger and had a sharper air about him. He looked more like a kitten that had lost its ball of yarn to another kitten. 
 
 `` Shut up and let the man talk,'' Old Sarge said, and cuffed the younger man's head. The third man walked over the drunk in the corner and kicked him a few times. The snoring continued unabated. He shrugged and walked to the front door, where he took up watch by the peephole. 
 
 `` Not much to say,'' I said evenly. Solom was blocking the path out the back and the water barrel was still sealed. `` I do n't remember a thing. Honestly.'' 
 
 Old Sarge shook his head and sighed. `` Shame, that. You do n't remember talking to me last night? To the council? My associate here owes you quite a bit of gold, you know.'' 
 
 That caught my attention, but the sour look on the young man's face sank any hopes I had of an easy pay out. 
 
 `` We were a week away from storming the barracks,'' the younger man said. He stared daggers at me. `` Now we have to move it all up. Because of you. Half our men are n't ready or even in the city yet, and now the whole thing is going to blow up ahead of schedule.'' 
 
 `` Kid does n't understand how these things work,'' said Old Sarge. `` Opportunity does n't follow a schedule, son. You take what you can get when you can get it. And our friend here just handed you the biggest, juiciest opportunity since they put the brand on me.'' 
 
 `` I'm still not sure of that,'' the younger man said. He eyed my hands. `` What'd you do, anyway? Roll around on the butcher's backyard?'' 
 
 `` Something like that,'' I said. My head thumped away. I waved my hand at the water barrel. `` Get me a mug of water and we'll talk it over.'' 
 
 A roar went up somewhere in the city. Hundreds, maybe thousands of people shouting all at once. Old Sarge grinned and slapped the bar, while the young man just shook his head. 
 
 `` We're going to need more of your help,'' Old Sarge said. He dropped a bag on the bar. It made a heavy, clinking, very rich sounding thud, and my eyes were drawn to it like moths to the flame. Screams mixed with the shouts as the roaring wave outside drew closer. If things were half as bad as they sounded, the city was tearing itself apart. `` A lot more.'' 
 
 I rubbed my temples and tried to think, but the pounding headache drowned out any attempt to string a plan together. One thing above all was certain. 
 
 `` Get me a drink,'' I said. Solom picked up a prybar, which had been sitting next to the water barrel, and I cursed. He smiled, but I shook my head. 
 
 `` Not water. I'm going to need something a little heavier if I'm going to earn that gold.''
