Part 6: Street Stall
AS I was returning to my lodgings after a heavy morning meal, I met Montana plodding down the street. He said he was heading to one of the street markets to sell the accessories he was always crafting. To my untrained eye they looked very well made, but he said he only worked on them as a hobby and wasn’t trying to make a profit.
“Want to come along?” he asked.
“Sure. I don’t have anything in particular to do now anyway.”
I walked side by side with him as we headed back the way I’d come. The street stalls were located further down the shopping district.
Oranz’s shopping district was divided into several areas: one with proper shops, one with mobile stalls, and past that, an area where vendors arranged their wares on large tarps. Commerce wasn’t restricted to adventurers and merchants in the city, or in the country as a whole for that matter. In Oranz, anyone was free to conduct business as long as it was within designated areas, whereas in some countries, such places were limited and you needed permission from the local government to do business there.
We got through the shopping district and passed through some back alleys, Montana making a few random stops here and there on the way while I watched him in silence. It wasn’t the first time he’d acted strangely like this. Sometimes, he’d just suddenly stop moving and stare at one spot.
Ghosts and the supernatural freaked me out, so I didn’t ask Montana what he was doing. I was too afraid of what his answer might be. It didn’t matter that I’d been transmigrated to another world or that I could now use magic. Ghosts were still scary. I’d never been good with horror.
When we arrived at the street stall area, Montana walked at a leisurely pace to an empty space on the outskirts and spread out a square cloth about six feet long on each edge. He pulled out some accessories from his loose sleeves and arranged them on the cloth neatly at equal intervals.
“We’re open for business.”
Then he sighed in satisfaction, plopped down on the ground, and stretched out his legs. At his urging, I sat down next to him.
✦ ✦ ✦
There were plenty of people in the area, but most of them were simply enjoying wandering around. Few seemed to be doing any serious shopping.
“Do you always do this?” I asked Montana.
“Sometimes, on my days off.”
But despite being open for business, Montana didn’t even try to attract any customers, nor did he seem particularly interested in the passersby. He just lazed around, occasionally twitching his tail and ears, just like a person-sized animal.
“Do your items sell?”
“Sometimes.”
People did glance at him when they walked by, and even if he didn’t sell anything, he seemed happy when someone looked his way. After getting to know him these past few months, I could tell whether he was in a good or bad mood by the movement of his tail and his aura, even though he wasn’t otherwise very expressive.
It’s so nice and warm today. I can see how this could be the perfect way to relax, sometimes. Certainly this, too, was a luxurious way to spend time. Worlds away from my days as a corporate stooge, when I’d always been busy working nonstop.
Montana and I chatted according to the random topics of conversation that popped into my head. After passing some time this way, I noticed a young man stop in his tracks at the sight of Montana’s wares. He stood there gazing intently at a set of two rings set with shining green stones, then checked the pouch in his hand and spoke to me, likely mistaking me for the store owner because I looked older.
“Hi, how much is this?”
It wasn’t until he asked that I realized the items lined up on the sheet didn’t have price tags. In other words, I didn’t know the price any more than this customer did. So instead of answering him, I looked at Montana.
“How much can you afford?” Montana asked.
“Well…” After thinking it over for a moment, with a nervous expression, the young man handed over his whole pouch. “Will this be enough?”
Montana looked inside the bag, turned it upside down, and emptied its contents onto the cloth. He divided the pile of silver coins in half, placing one half in front of him and the other back in the pouch. The pile looked like ten silver coins to me. The whole thing was a very rough estimate, which was typical of Montana.
“This will do.” He presented the pouch and the set of rings to the young man. The relieved customer bowed his head slightly and thanked Montana.
“Thank you so much. I’ve finally made up my mind to do it.”
“Thank you for your purchase.”
There was a spring in the young man’s step as he disappeared into the crowd. Judging from his bright expression and what he’d said before walking away, I wondered if maybe he was planning to propose to someone. I didn’t know the market price for accessories, so I wondered if he’d paid a fair price.
“Did you already have a set price in mind?” I asked.
Montana shook his head. “I decide when I see them,” he explained.
He apparently had some pricing standard, but one he didn’t seem interested in telling me about. He really is just doing this as a hobby instead of as a real business.
In any case, I didn’t mind the slightly slow conversation. I wasn’t very good at maintaining the flow of a conversation anyway, so this was actually easier for me.
After we’d spent some more time sitting in comfortable silence, a middle-aged man with a fastidious, gentlemanly look appeared. He stroked his mustache while looking at a necklace. It was relatively large, with a string of amber-colored stones. He seemed to be searching for a price tag, and when he couldn’t find one, he took out five coins from a wallet made of some kind of leather.
“Is this enough?”
“Yes.”
Montana took the coins and handed over the necklace. I stared in mild amazement because the gentleman had been so smooth about the whole exchange. Then I checked the color of the coins Montana had received and did a double take. If I’m not mistaken, those are gold coins.
The man didn’t say anything more. Simply nodded once, straightened, and walked away.
“Do you always sell this much…?” I asked.
“Sometimes,” Montana answered the same as before and took a bite of the bread he had brought with him.
We sat there until the evening, but no more customers came. I wondered if it was unusual to sell accessories so quickly and early in the day. Just as we were about to pack up, a person came walking straight toward us. The man was breathing heavily and wore a monocle along with several other jangling accessories. He called out to Montana without even looking at the items on display.
“You there, beast-man,” he said. “I’ll buy all of this.”
Montana stopped to look at the man, but as soon as he saw him, he started packing up again. When the man saw Montana tossing the accessories back into his sleeves one after another, he started panicking.
“Hey! Stop treating those so roughly!” he yelled. “I said I’ll buy them!”
In response, Montana slapped his tail hard on the ground, just once. He picked up the last remaining earring and looked up at the man expressionlessly. Then he simply threw the earring into his sleeve.
“The shop is closed for the day.”
“You…! Are you sure you want to act like that? If you sell these things to me, I’ll sell them to the right places and tell everyone where I got them!”
“The shop is closed.”
“Just give them to me, I said I’ll pay.”
“Closed means closed.”
Montana was abrupt and didn’t waver. Finally, he folded up the cloth he had laid out, turned his back on the man, and started walking away.
“You little brat!” The man exploded in anger and raised his arm aggressively.
“Montana!”
But Montana moved quickly. Before I could even finish shouting his name, he ducked and pointed a dagger—he’d drawn one with impossible speed—at the man. The tip of the blade stopped just before one of the man’s eyes, cracking his monocle. Then the man’s knees buckled, and he collapsed on the spot.