Hilda’s General Store was the go-to pce for anyone new in town. It offered a bit of everything—food, clothes, weapons, potions, even raw materials like firewood and wool yarn! And while the owner herself wasn’t as youthful as when she first started her business, her mind remained as sharp as ever when it came to bartering and making a profit.

  But even after years of buying and selling, there were still some things that couldn’t be tackled with experience alone.

  Hilda was polishing a tarnished goblet when the door to her shop swung open with a creak that sounded like it hadn’t been oiled since before the Great War. She gnced up and over her gsses, expecting another traveller or some adventurer looking to unload their loot. What she got instead was the Chosen One, wearing mismatched boots, a farmer’s hat, and a backpack that looked like it had just swallowed a small farm.

  “Ah, welcome back,” Hilda said, trying her best to hide her exasperation behind a professional smile. The Hero stomped in, waving an arm with no particur aim — which meant something was about to happen. She could feel it in her old bones.

  The Hero dropped the backpack with a loud thud that rattled a nearby shelf of enchanted candles. Then, with all the dignity of a mud-caked pig, the Reincarnation of the Phoenix started emptying the bag onto the counter.

  First came five dozen forks.

  Hilda raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

  Then, a pile of cheese wheels, each one suspiciously wrapped in a red scarf. She quickly counted them – a total of seven.

  "Mmmm... that’s unusual," Hilda muttered under her breath.

  Next was an oversized spoon that was clearly rusted beyond repair, and an unbroken egg — just one. Why???

  With the ceremony of a seasoned auctioneer, the Hero slid the spoils of his test excursion across the counter.

  Hilda blinked. Then blinked again.

  The Hero, eyes wide with the innocence only someone truly ridiculous could possess, stood there. Waiting for her to assess how much money everything would earn him this time.

  Hilda cleared her throat and fought the overwhelming urge to scream at them. She examined the pile of loot like it was the final exam of some impossible css. Since this was the Chosen One, she couldn’t refuse trade. No matter how ridiculous and useless the things he brought were. If it were known that her store had turned the Hero away, business would plummet and she would need to move away.

  But the worst part was that she was unable to determine if the Hero did this with malicious intent. If she had to assume with their interactions thus far, Hilda would compare the Realm’s Saviour as an innocent man-child that was born with no inhibitions or common sense.

  Maybe it was a consequence of being the Reincarnation of the Phoenix…

  “I’ll give you," she began, voice dripping with uncertainty, "two gold for the… cheese wheels?"

  The Hero nodded vigorously, though they remained completely mute. Not even a grunt. Just the stare. The piercing, emotionless stare.

  "Right," she said, beginning to question her life choices. "Two gold it is, then."

  Hilda shot a gnce at the pile, then quickly back to the Hero, before hesitantly adding, "And… ten copper pieces for the fork collection?"

  The Chosen One tilted their head, staring at her with the kind of seriousness that had to be a joke.

  “No? Then,” She quickly did some math in her head. “Fifteen copper?”

  His nod was hesitant, but she accepted it. There was no way those obviously stolen forks could fetch more than that in the market. She’d be lucky if no victims traced them back to her.

  “Good. And the spoon…”

  Does he think I want to buy rusted silverware? And why is it so damn big?!

  The Hero held the spoon aloft as though it were Excalibur, inspecting it with such reverence that Mirabelle almost felt like she should bow down. But she was quick not to fall for what could only be described as silent bullshitery.

  "Is it... an heirloom?" she asked tentatively as she received the spoon from the Hero with enormous care. He nodded, looking very certain of this description for the rusted spoon.

  It was all too much. Silent, absurd bartering. A hero’s heirloom spoon. She took the spoon delicately, as though it might shatter. She would know for sure after tossing it into the furnace after the man leaves.

  Hilda, trying to keep her professional composure, asked, “And the egg?”

  The Hero picked up the egg, cradling it like it was a treasure from another world. One egg. Singur. Untouched. Unbroken.

  They held it up for her inspection, but not a single word was uttered. Hilda squinted behind her gsses, seeing nothing that would make this egg special. It looked more like something a chicken would y than a mystical relic from a creature the Hero might have sin and raided its nest.

  It could be the egg of a mighty beast.

  It could be a spoiled chicken egg.

  “For one egg,” Mirabelle said, staring at the strange object. "I’ll give you... five copper for it?"

  The Hero nodded with such an enthusiastic, deliberate motion that it was almost comical.

  So it is a chicken egg!

  She pced all the coins on the counter and, in one smooth motion, slid them towards the Chosen One. He pced the egg on the counter as well to pick up his money, which left Hilda to scramble and pick the thing up before it fell and broke on her shop’s mat. If she had to scrub off egg from her floor, it wasn’t going to be a dragon who would kill the Hero.

  And as extravagantly as he came, the Phoenix’s reincarnation turned toward the door, leaving without uttering a single word, their silence leaving Hilda a little more unnerved.

  She watched as the Hero marched out of the shop, their boots still mismatched, their straw hat slightly askew. The door swung closed behind them, and all was quiet again — except for the soft clinking of the forks tumbling off one another over her counter.

  Hilda tossed the rusted, oversized spoon into the nearby trash pile, adjusting her gsses with a practised flick. She picked up the first cheese wheel, examined it carefully, and gave it a sniff. With a resigned sigh, she slid it under the counter. She’d have to sell it to someone else soon.

  She stared at the door for a long moment before shaking her head. “What is this town coming to?”

  And what will be of this realm in the future?