Aldric kept his hand near his sword as they walked the forest road. The merchant rode ahead on his mule, humming some trading song from the coast. Six bandits had been trailing them since yesterday, maybe more. Aldric had sworn to protect this man, the one who pulled him from a ditch years ago when he had nothing. The merchant stopped at a small house set back from the road. Thick oak walls, iron bars on the windows. He dismounted and knocked three times on the heavy door. An old woman opened it, took a sealed letter from the merchant, and disappeared inside. When she returned, she carried a wooden box the size of a loaf of bread. The merchant tucked it under his cloak without a word. Aldric watched the tree line. The bandits had moved closer during the stop. They wanted something specific. The merchant had known what he carried all along, known the danger it would bring. He had said nothing. Aldric turned to face the merchant. The man wouldn't meet his eyes. Whatever was in that box, it was worth killing for. The debt Aldric owed still bound him, but the terms had changed. He was protecting a man who had made him a target without warning. They rode on toward the old ruins where the road bent north. Stone walls rose through the trees, covered in vines. Aldric spotted movement in the archways. The bandits had taken position there, waiting. He pulled his horse alongside the merchant. "What's in the box?" The merchant's jaw tightened. "Medicine. For a lord's daughter. She's dying." Aldric looked at the ruins ahead. "They'll kill us for it." The merchant nodded. "I know. But she'll die without it." Aldric drew his sword. The debt he owed was clear now. Not to the merchant alone, but to what the merchant carried. Six men or sixty, it didn't change what he had to do.