The cook wiped his tears using his forearms. One rough drag across each eye. And when his face emerged from behind those flour-stained sleeves, something had shifted.
Resolve.
He patted the bag of coins sitting in front of the woman and spoke with a voice still cracked but no longer breaking.
"But I promise you. Your daughter will not go through the same fate. As long as I am standing. As long as this town stands."
He looked across the crowd. Every face that met his carried the same guilt. The same awakening.
"And we won't let you face your battle alone anymore. We will join your war."
His hand rested on the bag.
"I promise you that you will soon see that girl smile again. Brighter than ever before. We will depart to the city. To the holy church. And forget about the money. We will cover everything. You don't have to pay any of us back."
His voice broke one more time. But he pushed through it. "Because we owe you far more than just money."
