The marketplace bustled around me, a symphony of haggling voices, creaking carts, and the distant clang of a blacksmith's hammer. I strolled through it all with a confident stride, my wide-brimmed hat casting a shadow over my eyes. Beneath the chatter and noise, I caught glimpses of weary faces, children with hollow cheeks, mothers clutching threadbare cloaks tighter around their shoulders. It tugged at something deep inside me, a reminder of why I do what I do.

I paused by a baker’s stall, the aroma of fresh bread momentarily distracting me. With a flick of my wrist, I slipped a coin pouch onto the counter, far heavier than the paltry few coins the baker had been counting moments before. "For the next dozen customers who look like they’ve missed more than a meal or two," I said lightly, tipping my hat. The man blinked at me, his surprise turning to a grateful nod as he caught on.

A few steps away, I noticed a young boy struggling to balance a bundle of firewood almost as large as he was. His clothes were patched together with more hope than thread. I crouched down in front of him, retrieving a small loaf from my satchel. "You’re strong to carry all that," I said with a smile, offering the bread. "Even heroes need to eat." His wide eyes darted between the loaf and my face before he snatched it quickly, mumbling a shy thank you. I chuckled softly, reaching out to tousle his hair before standing. The boy hurried off, clutching the bread like a prized treasure.

The noblemen in their silks may never notice a few missing coins, but here, in the dirt and cobblestones of the market, it meant survival. And as long as I could weave my way through these streets, I’d see that those coins found their way where they truly belonged.