Part-12

The morning sun cast its warm glow across the bustling marketplace as vendors set up their carts and merchants laid out their wares along the cobblestone streets. Ben arranged his modest stand, displaying a collection of intricately carved wooden toys he had crafted by hand - a car with wheels that turned.

Though yesterday's attempt at selling noisy novelties to frustrated parents had utterly failed, Ben remained hopeful that his hand made wooden cars would capture the imaginations and coins of passing children. He took out his wooden chair at the front door of his shop then leaned back in his creaky wooden chair and watched the crowds begin to meander between the colorful stalls, anticipation swelling within in. Today held ripe potential.

As the day progressed, a steady stream of wide-eyed kids flocked to Ben's stand, dazzled by the assortment of playthings. They grabbed at the toys, testing the moving parts, their young minds concocting all sorts of games and adventures the figures could embark upon. However, the fleet of fantasizing children arrived without money pouches attached to their little belts. Try as Ben might to talk up the quality craftsmanship or creative possibilities, the youths inevitably scampered off to other distractions, leaving his wares untouched on the shelves.

By midday when foot traffic peaked, Ben's stomach rumbled from another morning without a proper meal. His bronze coin purse still hung flat and forgotten beneath the counter. As much fascination as his toys had garnered, no actual sales had occurred.

Just then, raised voices at the edge of the stall drew Ben's attention. A smartly dressed woman with strands of silver running through her auburn hair stood beside a young girl, presumably her daughter, adorned in a frilly yellow dress.

"Mama, pwease!" the petite blonde girl begged, tugging insistently on her mother's skirt. "I want the dollies!" (The small girl thought that the wooden cars were dolls.)

The woman shook her head. "Skyla darling, you already have so many fancy dolls at home barely play with. Father just bought you that exquisite porcelain set last month!"

"But I waaaant those!" Skyla wailed, stomping her patent leather shoe and pointing a demanding finger toward Ben's wooden cars that was on the mat. The woman scrutinized his assortment of carved wooden figures with an air of skeptical refinement.

Ben's pulse quickened. These were clearly nobles of some sort - their lavish garb starkly contrasted the plain homespun clothes worn by most other villagers. He subtly straightened the toy displays to their best advantage - a perfect opportunity to unleash his premier sales pitch!

"Fine bargains to be had, my lady!" Ben exclaimed with an exaggerated sweep of his hand. "Artisan crafts passed down through generations, built from the finest timber in the realm!" It was a liberal embellishment considering the trees had only been felled the previous day. But the chic woman didn't know that.

"Is that so?" she replied, glancing again at Ben's wares. "They seem rather...quaint."

Before Ben could launch into further lofty credentialing of his makeshift woodshop, little Skyla thrust out her podgy hands toward the collection. "This! This!" she cried, grabbing a wooden car.

Skyla peered up at her mother, brown eyes shimmering hopefully. "Can I pwease have this one Mama?!"

The woman tilted her head appraisingly, likely determining if the common toy was refined enough for her noble daughter's collection. After an agonizing pause, she glanced at Ben. "Very well then. Wrap it up please, shopkeeper. The young miss simply adores her toy collections."

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Ben sprang into motion, heart racing excitedly. "Straightaway, m'lady!" He gently extricated the toy from Skyla's grip and nestled it into a cloth sack. As he tied the parcel closed. One of the cars ran a few feet because it touched Ben’s left foot.

Skyla giggled in delight at the accidental effect. "Make her dance, make her dance!" she cried, bouncing on her dainty shoes. Ben couldn't help but chuckle as he handed over the bag, allowing Skyla to gleefully jiggle her new toy on the walk home.

"Many thanks for your patronage!" Ben called after the departing mother and daughter. He smirked down at the 5 bronze coins the woman had almost reluctantly placed in his palm - likely a pittance compared to what the nobles were accustomed to paying for Skyla's frivolities.

Part-13

Upon witnessing the young girl deciding to purchase the wooden toy, a few inquisitive children, accompanied by their parents, gathered in front of the stall as well

He offered his most dashing smile as they passed. "Fine keepsakes for your young heirs and heiresses! Hand-crafted by woodland artisans honing the trade for centuries!" A bit of an exaggeration, but the well-to-do seemed to appreciate a bit of grandeur and legacy attached to their child's playthings.

Ben only managed to push two more wooden cars. As the day winded down and Ben sold the last of his initial toy batch to a passing peasant child scarcely able to afford the single wood top he clutched proudly, a deep sense of fulfillment warmed the weary shopkeep.

Though 30 bronze coins for a day is really little, it was more than enough to finally purchase Ben a hearty lunch from a neighboring food stall.

It was never about squeezing every last bronze from his wares after all, though the added comfort of a week's meals was no hardship. Each laughing face reminded Ben of why he had returned - to sprinkle a few drops of merriment using the skills life had sharpened in him. The young imaginations kindled by discovering new possibilities in his humble trinkets could manifest wondrous futures, whether born of privilege or hardship.

As the evening lanterns flickered aglow across the market plaza, their light guided Ben's renewed ambition.

That evening after packing up his wares once the bazaar crowd had dwindled, Ben decided to close up his rickety shop early. Rather than unroll his bedding on the grimy floorboards per usual, he felt drawn to make the long walk back to the remote Everwoods village cabin he once called home.

After his parents had perished when Ben was a teenager, he could scarcely bear to remain alone in that cramped wooden cottage laden with painful memories. He took to living in the small storage room adjoining his inherited trading shop in town instead. But the quaint homestead still stood much as Ben remembered it from childhood, now overrun by weeds and vines that marked the passage of lonely years.

As Ben pushed open the weathered door long stuck shut from disuse, musty air redolent with wood rot but also nostalgia wafted over him. He coughed a bit, waving away dust kicked up by his entrance. The single room interior remained remarkably preserved - his mother's clay cookware still stacked neatly beside the soot-stained hearth and ragged bed linens folded at the end of a creaky rope bed.

Warm remembrance washed over Ben as he ran his fingers over the various wooden utensils and handicrafts his father had whittled by the fire years ago to entertain a young Ben. He sat in the sole wobbly chair, gazing around pensively. Perhaps he would haul this heirloom furniture back to the shop tomorrow and restore some small comforts of home.

But tonight, this long abandoned space offered the tranquility to focus his full attention on the task at hand - improving the production of his hand carved toy vehicles. By firefly glow, Ben took up a sharp knife and continued refining his design and whittling techniques hour after hour until his eyes refused to stay open any longer.

By the time golden dawn began streaming through the dust-flecked windows, Ben had assembled an inventory of twenty newly crafted wooden cars and trucks - his largest batch yet! He loaded up the bulky burlap sack, stuffed a few wild persimmons into his pocket to subdue breakfast hunger pangs, and headed briskly down the forest path back toward town as shopkeepers began rolling up their metal siding in the market square.

When Ben arrived at his own little storefront, he was surprised to see three townspeople already loitering out front - the patient young boy who had been his first customer along with two men Ben recognized but couldn't quite place.

As he hurried toward them, the elder gentleman remarked gruffly, "And here we feared this fine fellow had packed up for good! My apologies for doubting your dedication, good sir."

Ben waved them off cheerily. "No apologies needed! I ventured a bit outside town limits yesterday evening for a change of scenery to focus my creative juices. But bright eyed as ever this morning, sirs! What might I assist you fine folks with today?"

The younger man spoke up excitedly, "Well as I done told my pa here, my little ones can't stop jabbering about those rolling carriages you carved! They wanna add more to the collection to race around!"

"Aye, mine as well!" chimed the older gentleman. "Was hoping to snag a unique set to shut my grand tykes up for a spell. You happen to have any new contraptions today?"