Two arms, two legs, two wings tucked inside his coat. The quiet shopkeeper, in what would be his early twenties in Human years, shifted behind the long counter, counting the day's earnings under the clicking of assorted coins.
Torches on brackets cracked. Neatly organized shelves spoke of tales yet untold. Herzog's pointy ears flicked as someone snoozed from the armchair beside him.
He glanced down.
Snuggled within the velvet there was a pink round creature with a long, furry tail, deeply asleep.
"No credit… snrrrk... oh… candy… snrrrk..."
Herzog smiled. Zoey was a hard worker even in her dreams.
He swiped the coins. But as they fell back into his purse, he froze and realized.
"How much was it in total again?"
With a sigh, Herzog carefully poured them back onto the counter.
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"No credit!"
Zoey's voice cut through the shop, interrupting his sale pitch beside the racks. Herzog smiled sheepishly at the startled Human customer. He was getting used to being the only non-Human here, except for Zoey, whatever she was.
"I think I'll just take the astrolabe, thank you," the man said.
Herzog nodded and took the product to the counter for wrapping.
The doorbell chimed now and then as affluent city folk came in and out of the shop. He was getting used to this too. So now they never left empty-handed, even if it was just a souvenir, leaving a little something for him to count at night.
Zoey fluttered towards him and stopped, hovering above his shoulder.
"You seem sleepy, Zog," she said with a contagious yawn.
He yawned despite himself because of it.
"I lost track of time yesterday. Did you check our inventory?"
She bobbed up and down.
"We're a few things short on the front store. Grappling hooks and such. I got it, though."
"It's too heavy."
Zoey flew off towards the storage room in the back.
"I got it."
Herzog sighed.
A group of customers coming in.
He forced a smile and rounded the counter towards them. It's not like he didn't enjoy getting new customers, it's just…
Who felt like sunshine twenty-four hours a day?
It took a while for them to notice, likely because his most distinctive Cherlonian feature was tucked inside his coat, but their eyes eventually widened in surprise once they did.
They pelted him with questions unrelated to buying things, mostly about his race, and lastly about how he got there. And of course…
The chubby gentleman at the center leaned towards him, one bushy eyebrow arching.
"Where are your wings?"
Herzog smiled sheepishly, then maneuvered around their questions with a skill he'd acquired in these last few years, shepherding their focus back to what really mattered. It took a while.
The bell chimed again as he watched the group leave, relieved. At least they bought some souvenirs.
He waved at them.
"Until next ti… huh?"
Someone held the door open from outside.
"Excuse me."
A burly man in a blacksmith apron. He nodded at the leaving customers and entered.
"Hey, Maurice. Been awhile."
"Hey, kiddo. How's business? Doing well from the looks of it."
Herzog nodded.
"Can't complain. We sold most of the last delivery you made."
Maurice approached the counter.
"Good. Makes a man feel appreciated."
"So, what's on your mind? I thought the next delivery was only in a week."
"Yes, about that—you'll want to order a double."
Herzog's head tilted.
"I don't think I'm that great of a salesman, Maurice."
"Don't worry. You won't have to push more items per person than you already do." He leaned against the counter. "The king is holding a tournament in the city, you see."
Herzog raised his eyebrows.
"Huh… That's something."
Maurice chuckled.
"You don't seem very happy with the news."
"No, it's just… I'm not used to an intense influx of customers. I wonder if I should prepare."
"Oh, absolutely." Maurice turned to leave but stopped as if he'd just remembered something. "Beware, though. There will be new faces around, and I heard this kind of tournament attracts some odd fellows..."
Herzog smiled.
"Odder than a Cherlonian selling outdoor gear to Humans?"
Maurice seemed serious, though.
"Odder than that."
Herzog scratched his head.
"Got it. Thanks, Maurice."
The blacksmith waved and left.
No one else was in the shop, but it was still early to close.
Herzog tapped his fingertips against the counter.
Odd fellows, huh?
Well, money was money. He would just need to stock up and make sure the shop was ready to receive so many people. Zoey would likely enjoy the challenge.
Herzog raised his head, pulling back his stubbornly wild, pitch-black hair.
A loud crash rang out from the storage room behind him.
He swiveled and ran towards it immediately.
Zoey struggled to stay in the air, with the rope wrapped around her squishy body, and steel grappling hooks beneath her, twice her size, pulling her down.
"It's too heavy," she said in a whispery, breathless voice.
"That's what I told you!"
Herzog rushed in to help.