Well, crap.

I guess word had spread about us leaving. We stepped out into the bright light, and before we knew it we were surrounded by Shadow Thieves. Everyone's hands went to their weapons, and me, Minsc, Jaheira and Viconia formed a wall of steel around our mages. Already, it looked like were were going to have to fight our way out of the city. Steely eyes peered from behind our adamantine shields at a handful of dark-leathered and heavily scarred men.

Then, Aran Linvail stepped through his own protectors. He smiled, showed empty hands. My flail dropped a little, and I felt two tingles. The first was an itchy sort of pain from moving too fast, the second embarrassment for having drawn weapons on an honor guard. My own honor guard. Aran smiled understandingly, extending his hand. Plenty of onlookers were watching. I shook it, and he apologized for not having told me of his plan. Ever the urbane, charismatic leader, he walked beside us as his thugs cleared the path ahead of us. The citizens of the dock were quite shocked- the paragon of virtue was walking beside the man considered a necessary evil at best.

He and his companions stopped at the entrance to the docks, and went on their way with best wishes. It was odd, watching the biggest criminal in the city wave me goodbye as everyone else stared. I guess word had spread about the beholder cult, the vampires...apparently, I was a hero. Children pointed. Random peasants walked up and shook my hand and those of my companions or gave me a hearty slap on the back. Many offered to buy us a round, but with the memory of the morning's hangover still fresh in my mind, I politely refused.

Man, it was awkward. My armor was chafing already, and I limped behind Minsc and Jaheira as the crowds gawked. Apparently, my reputation had spread. Behold, the Dawnbringer who swept the city vampires, bringing Final Death to Bodhi and her minions. He who crushed the beholder cult, who struck down the childkiller Neb, who stopped the murders on the bridge. He who brought the slavers to their knees, savior of Trademeet, destroyer of the evil in Umar Hills. The Coast had (apparently) never seen such a force for good, and together with his rogue's gallery of companions, they had changed the face of Faerun. The avatar of Lathander, they said. The other priests and I knew better, though. The irony of the situation left me feeling...quirky. Odd. Uncomfortable.

It took three hours to reach the city gates. Three hours of plodding, handshakes, tokens of appreciation. Three hours in the fading autumn heat. Three hours of praise I didn't deserve. I mean, everyone who had the power would have done those things. Many without the power had tried. Why was I singled out as a hero? The same reason I was bedeviled in Baldur's Gate as a demon, though the crowd knew it not.

I waved one last time, gesture lost in a flurry of flower petals. Even the nobles were singing my hymns. Jaheira saw him coming, I think. Tried to stop him. Smiled, greeted him, shook his hand, tried to move him along. Instead, the graying man shoved a basket of produce into her hands and pushed Minsc aside. Of course, they knew him, he knew us, they let him through. I felt his well-worn hand on my shoulder, thought it was Minsc trying to tell me to get a move on.

I turned around, looking up to see air. It definitely wasn't my faithful ranger companion. My eyes tracked downwards until they met those of a man, time worn and grey-haired. His face was leathery and pitted, hands as calloused as any of my band.

"Farmer Brun..." I managed, shocked. The man had passed fifty harvests awhile ago, yet had somehow managed to track me down here.

"Hello, kind sir. I brought you some of this year's corn n' pataters, part of my rent to you."

I reached out, shook his hand, stumbling over my words.

"How'd you get down here, friend?"

Everyone was watching. I was getting to hate that feeling.

"Horseback. Only a day's travel, and old Jeremiah's still capable of bringing me far."

I looked past him, at a massive old Clydesdale that stared around dully.

"Ah voyaged to see the hero of Baldur's Gate. Again, I thank thee for saving my farm. But I must ask you sir- is what they're saying about you true?"

Oh crap. This couldn't go well.

"What, specifically?"

"That you destroyed vampires, beholders, evil druids, dragons?"

"Yes."

The kindly old man stopped, seeming to notice the gathered throng for the first time.

"This man, this...saint, he done stopped, long ago, and helped me."

Many nodded. They all felt that I had helped them too.

"A year ago, my son...died. Brought down my ankhegs. This hero done brought his body back to me, back for a proper burial. "

Murmurs in the crowd, murmurs of approval.

"He stopped to help me, without a thought for a reward. In fact, he loaned me a hundred gold to help me get my farm a runnin'."

Smiles all around. Yes, everyone smile. We were edging under the portcullis when he turned back to me. His face was grave.

"Is it true, milord? What they're saying about you? That you're a child of..of...the God of Murder? I don't believe 'em. I don't. You helped so many on the coast, we know better. You're a saint, a priest. It can't be true. But I have to hear it for myself, because I know you're an honest man. Tell me, and I'll believe you."

Everyone's eyes on me, now. Farmer Brun was pleading. He was making the case for himself. He didn't want to believe. All those eyes on me. I knew I couldn't lie.

"I'm sorry, mister Brun. I couldn't help the circumstances of my birth, that wasn't my choice. My father raised me well, though, and I tried to be a force for good in the Realms. I'm sorry."

He fell to his knees, hands on his face. The crowd was agape. Smiles turned to frowns turned to angry jeers. I turned my back on them, hear Aerie trying to speak to the enraged mob. Imoen and Jaheira put arms around my shoulders, led me away. They knew the toll of that admission, and tried to shield me from the mob's anger. That, and the odd thrown vegetable.

Viconia had been right. The road was long. It also happened to be quiet. Even Minsc was troubled. He walked ahead with Imoen, quietly discussing the matter as best he could. Unfortunately, that left me to the tender mercies of Viconia, Jaheria and Aerie. In an unexpected and unforseen turn of events, they forgot their rivalries and ignored one another. Jaheira wrapped an arm around my waist, Aerie held one of my hands in a death grip, and Viconia rubbed my shoulders. Their voices became a babble of platitudes.

"They know not what they do, my love. They treat us Harpers the same..."

"...oh, it's not your fault, really! You're a great person, I know it. You helped me in so many ways..."

"-rant rivvin! They know not what you do for them. You should cut them d..."

Before long, they fell quiet. Jaheira still held me close, head resting on my shoulder. Aerie's fingers remained intertwined in mine. Viconia continued whispering to me in her native tongue, hands working across my shoulders and neck.

The sun was finishing its run across the sky. I didn't so much call a stop as flop to the ground and refuse to take another step. My friends pulled me to the side of the road, off a ways into the woods, and began to set up camp.