John was wandering through his bookstore, looking at the assortment of books he had out. He had never really done so, before, just pushing random books out into the bookshelves without a care but as he wandered around he was realizing that perhaps the people here wouldn't be able to read many of these languages. It was a good thing that most of the people who came in asked for specific things and John was able to help them, or he feared they may have just left his store without finding anything of value. A story lost to an inability to plan.
He replaced the majority of the books he found with ones written in the most common language people spoke here. A few were left of other languages — Elvish, Dwarvish and a couple other lesser known races' languages. And a few still left of languages he thought nobody on this planet could speak, or at least very few. Something to show his customers that there was more than meets the eye here, something to inspire them to ask John about it, to bring them to his desk and initiate a conversation.
This was a process he could've done from his desk, of course. A wave of his hand replacing all of the books almost instantly with ones that would be more fitting to the area. But there was something satisfying about doing it by hand, John found. The more time he spent here, around these people and watching them live their lives the more appreciation he had for the little things.
He would live forever, there was no rush to have it done right now. This way he got to appreciate each book he found. Most he couldn't even remember when or where he got ahold of them, just more matter to hoard as he traveled the universe. A shame, John thought. He wished he had taken more time to appreciate every world he visited, every item he hoarded. The meaning lost on him now as he wondered whether a book came from this planet or some other.
The door opened, as a man walked in. Red hair tied up neatly behind his head, a well fitted green suit framing his body. The man walked with finesse and confidence, striding into John's store and smiling at him.
"Hey John, how've you been?" The man asked. John was confused, pleased with another to care for him, but confused with who the man might be. The man chuckled to himself as he walked up to John.
"I was here a few years ago, though I was in much worse shape than I am now. Torn clothes, smelling of death and wishing for nothing but to learn to read. I'm not surprised you don't remember me, but I certainly remember you." The man said.
John thought about what he said, thinking to the customers he had. One did meet the description, and he built up a memory of a customer who bought the children's book about a rabbit exploring a field, sending it through to the man. The man's only reaction his smile widening.
"You do remember me! Oh this is great news. I had come by a few days later for another book and you were closed. I came back every few days after for a while, a couple of months. I visited other bookstores in the meantime, none of which very nice to me at the time." The man scoffed, "Their loss, really. I learned to read and ended up working in a tavern for a little while. I took the little money I made and started traveling around. Buying goods from one place and moving to the next to sell and repeat. The lessons I learned living as a bandit's slave kept me alive, I think. Knowing how they operated, what morals they were willing to bend and what they weren't. The fears they had, and what would make them push past it. Everybody's different of course, but I knew how to travel through the wilds, knew how to avoid the stronger monsters' habitats.
"And when I was attacked, I knew how to keep myself alive. I became quite successful as a result, rather quickly even, as I'm sure you can see." The man said, raising his arms and twirling around in place, laughing. John nodded his head.
"And I always think back to you. You didn't do much, really. But you listened, you heard my story, and you appreciated it enough to even give me something in return. You valued me, and the troubles I faced. It made me feel human again, it made me feel like I had a place in this world. As though no matter what happened, I mattered at least as much as a children's book." He chuckled. "It's sad, isn't it? That I was so uplifted by feeling like I was worth as much as a few pieces of paper meant for kids. But I was. Everybody else threw me out of their store, calling me dirty and worthless." The man summoned a book to his hand, the same one of a rabbit that he bought but worn with use and time.
"I still carry it with me everywhere I go. A reminder that even at my worst, my voice would still be heard." The man looked at the book, with some emotion John couldn't understand, before it vanished.
John was pleased with the man's story, his goal with the bookstore was never supposed to be about helping people. But now two people have come in once more, talking about how much they appreciated him. From John's perspective, all he did was sell them books. But from their perspective that alone was meaningful enough to change their lives in some small way. Or perhaps large way, as he looked at the man in front of him. If he could do some good by selling books, then it would only make his bookstore more interesting John felt.
"Well I suppose I will find another book and share with you another story then." The man said, beginning to wander through the bookshelves looking at books.
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
John walked back to his desk and sat down, glad the man had taken the initiative to remove himself. These situations were challenging for John, for as happy as he was to know the man appreciated him, John also had no idea what the proper response to that was supposed to be. He was much more comfortable listening to their stories and contemplating it in silence afterwards.
The man grabbed one of the books from the shelf and looked through it. Various pictures of creatures even John had never seen paired with descriptions of them in a language from some other planet. It was one of the few books John left to inspire intrigue, and it was working, John thought. He was glad he did it. The man placed the book on the desk and asked, "What language is this?"
'Unsure' John wrote, regretting once more not paying more attention to where his hoard was acquired.
The man laughed once more. "Well, I'll take this one then. At the very least I'm sure somebody will pay a pretty penny for the gibberish. You need a story for it, right?"
John was satisfied with what the man had already talked about, but it felt like the man wanted to share more, so John just nodded his head.
"Right, well have I got the doozy for you this time, my friend. So I had just left this coastal town way up north, my carriage filled with plenty of the local specialties. Fish and salt, mostly. Though there was some jewelry made of the shells found along the beach, some clothing. Fascinating really, the nobles inland pay an incredible premium for clothes worn by commoners all along the coast. Traveling around and seeing so many different cities and people has been a great experience. I can see why you take stories as payment.
"Anyway, so my carriage is filled with fish and salt, and when you're taking fish inland you've gotta be careful. Otherwise you're left with rotting fish and a broken enchantment you spent a pretty penny on. So I'm taking the safe roads, sticking to what I know. And the weeks pass in safety, the fish preserved perfectly with the enchantments, just a few days out from the town I'm heading to. When suddenly a bear — a bear, of all things, charges my carriage. Not some monster or unknown horror, just a bear. Honestly I'm not even sure if it saw my carriage or if it was just running blindly through the forest, it seemed so confused after it hit my carriage and then ran off again. I mean, a bear, really? It didn't even attack my horse, it just rammed my carriage and then ran off.
"So my carriage is knocked over, and I'm checking on the enchantments. Broken, all of them. The salt had spilled all over the fish, just absolutely covering it in a ridiculous quantity of salt. I wanted to cry, honestly. I had expected to be hunted by bandits, or by some terrible monster. But to be done in so horribly by a bear? I had money saved up in safety, it wasn't the end of the world. But it was just a bear! If I had slightly stronger classes I could've just yelled at it and it would've run off. I mean, a bear!
"Right, so I figured I might be close enough to get to town and maybe salvage some of the stuff. The fish was gone, almost definitely. Covered in salt and with no preservation enchantments to keep it. But the clothes still seemed okay, the jewelry was okay and some of the salt lived. It was salvageable. I do what I can to fix my carriage, yanking it back up and hammering some spare planks on it to keep it at least somewhat sturdy. The roof was fucked though, and I almost thought about throwing the fish out, but had some naïve hope that it might survive the trip and maybe I could sell it as dog food or something.
"But get this, when I got there, the fish was fine! It didn't even smell bad at all like fish normally does after a few days in the sun. It was dry, incredibly dry. And it just felt salty, but it kinda seemed okay? So I cooked some of it up just to try it, and it tasted fine. Really really salty, but not like bad fish. Just salty. So I got my carriage fixed and the enchantment reapplied, then filled up a barrel with some water and let a piece of the fish sit in it for a few hours while I sold my goods.
"And get this, when I came back the fish was almost back to normal! It looked like fish, like normal fish. A little discoloured, the texture was a little bit off, but it didn't smell worse than normal fish. So I tried it again and it tasted really good actually. I was confident I was on to something here but I mean, I can't go selling bad fish if it's bad fish right? So I kept it to myself for a little while. A couple of months and almost all I ate was this weird dried fish, and I never got sick off of it. I did some more tests with it, keeping it in the enchantments or outside of the enchantments. Tested out making it, how much salt was actually needed, was the sunny day needed. Or was it just the sunny day that did it and not the salt.
"Actually if you can believe it, if the sun's hot enough you can do almost the same thing without the salt. Crazy, I know. So I started to sell it and one thing leads to another, now I'm almost exclusively a fish merchant. Not what I expected but it's working out really great for me. I don't need the enchantments anymore which is a huge cost reduction. The fish is cheaper, lasts longer, and is easier to transport inland. I've completely revolutionized how the trade of fish works, and it's all because of one stupid bear that knocked over my carriage. I swear if I see that bear I'm going to give it the best meal it's ever seen."
The man finished his story, laughing. "I mean really, a bear attacks me and now I'm filthy rich. What are the chances really? Anyway that's my story, is that good enough for the book?" John nodded his head in response.
"That's great, thanks again for the book. See you around pal." The man said, the book vanishing as he headed out the door.
John thought about his story. The man had called John his friend. Were they friends, John wondered? They had seen each other twice. Perhaps it's a figure of speech, but John found himself pleased with the idea. Seeing the same person again and seeing how they changed was interesting.
The man had been so distraught before, so broken down. And yet he seemed so happy now. All in such a short span of time, truly incredible, John thought. He hoped to see some of his other customers again someday, see how they changed, how the books they chose affected their lives.
He wondered about the elf that had come in, were they still keeping themselves hidden, or had they been discovered and moved on to some other town in another identity? The vampire girl was looking for a powerful class and John wondered what happened with that. Had she found a class to fit her or was she still looking, years later? John wasn't even sure how many years. Next time he takes a break, he decided he would be sure to keep track of that.