The slow galloping of horses echoed along the dirt path. Perhaps out of kindness – or simply to perpetuate their crimes further – the raiders had left the carriages intact. While they could have stolen the horses as well, only the merchants' wares were taken.

True to the recollection of the man who rode alongside Sigurd, the group happened upon a split in the road. Acting almost like a signpost, they stopped at the fork.

“This is it," he told Sigurd. “According to our information, the old fort – and presumably those bandits – should be down this path.”

The path split to the right, with the regular road facing parallel to the one they had taken to get there; the merchant pointed to the branching path.

“Are you sure about this? I know those girls are important to you, but," the merchant paused, worry plastered on his face. “Mercenaries and law enforcement alike have had trouble apprehending them. What makes you think you can avoid perishing to them, or that your efforts will result in a different outcome?”

Sigurd smiled smugly, “I'm confident in my abilities.”

“But last night-”

“Last night I was weakened,” Sigurd cut the man off, his pride wounded. “I will rescue them and put a stop to those bandits' operation.”

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

Sigurd stepped off the passenger seat and walked up to the other travelers.

“None of you have any reason to stay and wait for me,” he told them, glancing at the injured guards. “Less so these men. Leave me, go to the next town so the guards can tend to their wounds.”

Seeing the sorry state of their empty carriages, Joyce thought: ‘These poor men lost it all. I should help them in case we never meet again, or I do fall here.’

Sigurd reached into his shrinking sack and handed one of the merchants a pile of coins. Shocked by the sudden deposit, the merchant shook his head, “I can’t take this. You’ve helped more than you needed to; you don't owe us anything, mister.”

“I insist," Sigurd replied with a grin, closing the man's hand and clasping on the money. “Think of it as an apology from me for not doing more, as the Baron of Creston.”

They all shared a look of astonishment.

“I also can't bear to see how you've been stripped of your livelihoods. Split the coins among yourselves, to help get back on your feet," he added. As he walked away, he added, “And my name is Sigurd, just to keep things simple!”

Struck by disbelief from Sigurd's noble and charitable actions, the merchant who had taken the gold counted it quickly, before nodding joyfully at his fellows.

With tears in his eyes, he said, “Thank you, Baron Sigurd. We won't forget this gesture!”

The humbled soldier then approached the merchant who had rented him the carriage and looked up at him as the others drove away.

“Go on, join your fellows," Sigurd said, showing him five hundred golden coins. “I’ll carry on by foot.”

Moved by Sigurd’s bravery and selflessness, the man uttered, “No. I can't well leave you on your own after seeing that. I may not be able to assist you in fighting, but I’m staying.”

“Didn't you say it was too dangerous?”

“It is!" the man instantly replied. “But it will aid your chances of escaping if you have faster travel. So we’re going together.”

Sigurd grinned and joined the merchant on the front of the stagecoach. “Off we go then!”

“And my name is Cuntz, by the way," the man said shyly.

“Nice to meet you!" Sigurd joyfully said before the horse was motioned to go down the right path.