The Rumors Begin
Three days.
That's how long it took for my quiet life of minimal effort to implode.
I was minding my own business-by which I mean napping behind the guild-when Lila burst out the door waving a newspaper.
"Ren! Look!"
Across the front page, in massive, glittering letters:
'Mysterious Mage Ends Demon Conflict!'
'Hero of Arvale Saves Kingdom with Words Alone!'
The drawing underneath looked vaguely like me if I'd been drawn by someone who'd never seen a lazy person before-muscular, heroic, and dramatically brooding against a sunset.
I spat out my tea. "Who authorized this slander?"
"That's you!" Lila beamed. "You're famous!"
"I specifically tried not to be!"
The Parade I Never Signed Up For
By afternoon, I was dragged-physically-to the town square, where banners fluttered and people cheered.
"Long live the Hero of Tranquility!"
"Teach us your pacifist magic, great one!"
Someone threw flowers. They hit me in the face.
"Why is this happening?" I hissed.
Lila smiled sheepishly. "The Church spread the story after Zerath's legion retreated. They're calling it the Miracle of Ren."
"Miracle of… oh, come on."
Then the mayor climbed onto a stage. "Sir Ren Arkwright, savior of our peace! The people thank you!"
He shoved a medal into my hands and declared me an Honorary Royal Consultant on Inter-Realm Diplomacy-which sounded like a fancy title for "guy we can blame later."
The Fame Tax
Back at the guild, adventurers I'd never met kept crowding my table.
"Teach me your time-magic secrets!"
"What's the secret to your calm aura?"
"Will you sign my sword?"
I tried hiding under my cloak. Didn't work.
Clara smirked from the counter. "Congratulations, 'Hero.' Your tab just doubled. Fame surcharge."
"That's not legal."
"It is now."
I turned to Lila. "This is your fault."
She giggled. "You're finally getting recognition!"
"I wanted a nap, not a nation."
The "Royal" Summons
Just when I thought it couldn't get worse, a knight in shiny armor stomped in.
"Sir Ren Arkwright! His Majesty requests your presence at the palace immediately!"
"Hard pass," I said.
He blinked. "You… refuse an invitation from the king?"
"Tell him I'm busy doing legendary hero things, like laundry."
The knight's eyebrow twitched. "You'll be escorted."
Two more knights appeared and hoisted me up like a sack of uncooperative potatoes.
Lila waved cheerfully. "Good luck, Ren!"
"Traitor!"
Audience With the King
The throne room glittered with gold and exhaustion. The king-round, red-faced, and clearly tired of politics-looked me over.
"So, you're the famed Hero of Tranquility."
"'Famed' is generous," I said.
He chuckled. "You resolved conflict without bloodshed. Admirable. I'd like you to serve as an advisor for the upcoming peace summit."
"Define 'serve.'"
"Attend meetings. Provide insight."
"So, sit in a chair and occasionally nod?"
"Precisely."
"…I'm in."
The Paperwork Apocalypse
They gave me an office. With a desk. And paperwork.
Mountains of it.
Within ten minutes I had weaponized procrastination: I delayed three deadlines and accidentally reset a meeting calendar.
Somehow, that streamlined diplomacy. Ministers were calling it "The Ren Method."
By the end of the day, I'd achieved record-breaking efficiency by doing absolutely nothing.
Back at the Tavern
Lila found me later, asleep under the medal ceremony banner.
"They said the summit went smoothly thanks to your 'strategic silence,'" she said.
"I call it tactical unconsciousness."
She smiled softly. "You keep pretending you don't care, but you always end up helping somehow."
"I'm just a man cursed with low energy and high narrative value."
Next Chapter:
Chapter 8 – The Hero's Banquet (And I Still Didn't Pay My Bill)