One by one, Jerry led Sigurd to all of the different homes, all the other families who had been victimized by the syndicate. They found themselves receiving an identical act of kindness in the form of a hundred gold coins–their burdens lightened by the adventurer's generosity.

Though the gold coins flowed freely from Sigurd's hands, his own pockets did not suffer, for he knew it would be worth it. Plus, his first real deed would net him a sizable reward from the Guildmaster. However, the weight of his gold gift was but a reminder of the lives he had touched and the justice he had brought to a world plagued by darkness.

Visiting all those families, delivering the good news, bringing them peace of mind—the tears that streamed down each of their faces was proof of it—and gifting them economic security took Sigurd the rest of that day.

By the time the sun set, he was done with his endeavor and eager to go back to the inn. After walking back to the bakery and, as he went to say his goodbyes, Jerry stopped him.

“Now that we're done, let's have dinner!”

“Dinner?” he asked. “I couldn't impose. And besides, I need to return to my daughters.”

“You have kids of your own? How lovely!" Jerry's mom added. “Are you married?”

Sigurd closed his eyes and shook his head politely, “No, I'm not. I actually took them in off the streets.”

“Oh, what a lovely man you are!" she gushed.

“It'll be quick, I promise!” Jerry insisted. “You can even take some home to your daughters!”

Not wanting to deny their hospitality, Sigurd accepted the offer. What the boy referred to as “dinner", though, was nothing more than bread—handmade by himself, allegedly the best in town before all the tragedies that befell them.

Sigurd soon found himself in a very wholesome and warm environment, watching mom and son knead the dough, softening it up, and adding just the right combination of spices to ensure their taste.

Amid the chaos and battles that defined his usual days as of late, it was in those smaller, precious moments where Sigurd found solace and connection, especially with those he encountered on his path.

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At one point, they even invited him to help knead. And, for a few moments at least, Sigurd became swept away by the cozy feelings. It was almost as if he was the father in that broken family, and, he figured, if that helped them to heal then he could play that role for a bit too.

After the dough was sufficiently massaged—and thereafter placed in the oven—they waited for it to rise. While it did, the fragrance of freshly baked bread triggered something in Sigurd. He closed his eyes, focusing on the images in his mind and the rumbling of his stomach, and said, “Damn, I’m really missing being able to go for some Starbucks or Dunkin’ now...”

“Star Buck?” Jerry inquired, curious by the odd term. “Done-Kin? What are those?”

‘Oh shit, did I say that out loud?’ Joyce cursed her absentmindedness.

“Uh,” wide-eyed, orbs darting from side to side, Sigurd’s mind raced to come up with a convincing answer. “It’s nothing, just the names of some places I used to eat baked goods at back home, out West.”

“Oh?” Jerry’s mom then spoke up, her curiosity piqued. “It sounds like they were delicious if you were daydreaming about them.”

“You have no idea,” he replied.

Drawing upon memories of meals consumed in his past life, Sigurd began describing a wide variety of different baked goods he longed to eat again. Sometimes, the plates themselves weren’t even baked—instead they only contained some form of bread. He introduced the family to delicacies he was sure would spark an interest in them, even while knowing the culinary techniques would be impossible to recreate in their medieval setting.

From the sizzle of hamburgers on the grill, to the aroma of a cheesy, greasy pizza; from fluffy, mouth-watering doughnuts, to even just an invigorating cup of coffee the likes of which could be gotten at any of the aforementioned fast food chains, Sigurd detailed each and every menu option he missed savoring. He described each plate, each ingredient as much as possible, and all the while Jerry and his mom were captivated by the unique offerings that poured from Sigurd’s mind.

Such was their collective hunger upon hearing of those delicacies, that, after the bakery’s bread was done baking, Sigurd enjoyed it to the fullest, imagining he was partaking of one of the delectable meals he cherished. They all scarfed the bread down, envisioning they were elsewhere. The extra bread that remained was securely packaged so he could take it with him.

By the end of their meal, Jerry was tuckered out and fell asleep. Sigurd helped clean up and was accompanied outside by the boy’s mother. It had gotten to be late in the evening.

“Well then, now I really need to be leaving,” Sigurd said, taking the basket with the freshly baked bread. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

“No, thank you, mister Sigurd. You’ve done so much for us in one day, I need to repay you somehow,” she replied, her voice sounding both grateful and desperate.

Sigurd smiled cordially, “I couldn’t possibly impose any longer. And I didn’t do this for any sort of reward.”

“I insist, please!” Dejected, the woman seemed to be lost in thought for a moment before she clasped Sigurd’s free hand, “I know! We’ll be having a party in three days’ time, with the other families—to celebrate this momentous occasion. Don’t think of it as a payment, but I’d be ecstatic if you came!”

He let out a small sigh and smiled warmly, “Alright, you’ve convinced me. I’ll bring my girls and we’ll have a good time.”

“Oh, I’ll guarantee it!” Jerry’s mom said at last, with vigor in her voice.

With that plan set, Sigurd finally took his leave. He dashed back to the inn, out of concern for Mia and Nia—having been left alone all day with Barry and his men, he feared the worst—but was both shocked and relieved to find them all still awake, playing card games and laughing so late in the evening.

Sigurd handed them the bread, which the girls graciously shared among them all, and soon enough they retired for the night.