Across the blue sky, grey clouds could be seen in the north, indicating an approaching storm. This news brought dismay to everyone, especially the vendors who had set up their booths to sell their wares. The rain had only stopped that morning and had already caused significant damage. Puddles had formed, and every time someone ran or children jumped in them, water splashed everywhere. The horses only added to the mess. The prospect of more rain made the situation even worse, as it would create even more waterlogged conditions. Everyone, except for the guards and a few working men, would seek shelter in their homes. This left the vendors in a difficult position, wondering how they were supposed to make a living if no one ventured out to buy from them. Occasionally, a passing wagon or two might come by, but the likelihood of a purchase was doubtful.
To add to their frustration, just half an hour before, the guards had attempted to arrest a vendor for theft. The poor man swiftly fled, causing chaos in his wake. He knocked over people's booths, trampled over fruits, and even knocked some people down in the process. Some of the individuals who had previously been cheated by him found amusement in the situation. The ones responsible for reporting him happened to be the king's son and the grandson of a general. They may have appeared like ordinary peasants, but they had guards standing nearby who knew about the vendor's dishonest practices. It was their decision to put an end to his cheating ways. The two young men laughed throughout the whole ordeal, even when the general's grandson was knocked over. But he was never caught, which brought disapproval from all, save the angry vendors. Now, many of the vendors were closing up until the rain would stop.
"Hey," a voice called out, "I need you to sell me some fruit." It was a person passing through.
"Nope," replied the vendor. "I am not selling anything to anyone. Big or small, king or queen. I am done."
"Really, what happened here? This is the worst place I have been," replied the passerby. "There are even abandoned booths."
"Yeah, well, blame it on the rain," the vendor grumbled. "It started pouring this morning and hasn't let up since. Everything's a mess, and nobody wants to come out and buy anything."
The passerby looked around at the deserted and disheveled market, nodding sympathetically. "I can understand why. It looks like a disaster zone."
"It is," the vendor agreed. "And to top it all off, we had a thief causing havoc just before you got here. He knocked down our booths, ruined our goods, and got away scot-free."
"That's terrible," the passerby said, a mix of concern and curiosity evident in their voice. "Do you know who he was?"
"Oh, we know exactly who he is," the vendor replied bitterly. "But he's slippery, that one. Always manages to elude capture. It's like he has some sort of ally with connections."
The passerby raised an eyebrow. "Connections? You think someone is helping him?"
"I wouldn't be surprised," the vendor replied. "There are rumors that he's been scamming people for years, but nothing ever happens to him. Some people say, 'Oh, you know I don't care.' But he is just too good for others to notice."
"That's infuriating," the passerby said, anger tinting their tone. "Someone needs to put an end to his deceitful ways."
"Like anyone can, you know this is the first time someone has actually reported him."
"Oh, well, my friend, I must be going, but keep trying to sell, don't give up. Everyone has troubles."
The vendor smiled. "See y'all someday soon, I hope."
Meeting the Dumb One - Chapter 2
The passerby's name was Winder. He went to the inn to stay the night. He had troubles of his own and he was not going to travel in the rain. So he decided to get some food and stay a couple of days in town. When Winder entered the inn, he saw that there was a fight going on. But he cared not.
He made his way to the bar and sat down, ordering a hot meal and a pint of ale. The innkeeper, a burly man with a red face and a thick beard, looked at Winder with curiosity.
"What brings you here, stranger?" the innkeeper asked, wiping a mug clean with a towel.
"Just passing through," Winder replied, taking a sip of his ale. "Thought I'd seek shelter from the rain and grab a meal."
The innkeeper nodded, understanding. "A wise decision. This rain has been relentless. So, where do you hail from?"
Winder hesitated for a moment before answering. It was not uncommon for strangers to be met with suspicion in unfamiliar towns. "I come from a small village to the east," he finally said, choosing to keep his origins vague.
The innkeeper shrugged, not pressing further. "Well, make yourself at home. We don't get many travelers in these parts, especially with the weather like this. What brings you to our little town?"
"Just passing through, as I said," Winder repeated, not wanting to divulge too much about his own intentions. He preferred to keep a low profile, at least for now.
As he enjoyed his meal, Winder observed the ongoing fight in the corner of the inn. Two men were yelling and throwing punches at each other, while the other patrons either cheered them on or tried to break up the brawl. The innkeeper glanced over from time to time, clearly annoyed by the disturbance but too busy serving customers to intervene.
Curiosity got the better of Winder, and he decided to strike up a conversation with the person sitting next to him at the bar. The man seemed to be fully engrossed in the fight, his eyes never leaving the spectacle.
"Quite a commotion over there," Winder commented, gesturing towards the fighters. "Is this a regular occurrence in these parts?"
The man turned to look at Winder, his eyes bloodshot and his face flushed. "Nah, not usually. Must be somethin' in the air tonight. Those two dimwits can't seem to settle their differences without resortin' to fists."
Winder raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Differences? Do you know what this is about?"
The man chuckled, his voice slurred. "Oh, they ain't got any real reason to fight. They're just a couple of idjits who enjoy throwin' punches. Gives them some sort of thrill, I reckon."
Winder couldn't help but shake his head in disbelief. "Seems like a waste of energy, if you ask me."
The man shrugged, taking a gulp of his beer. "To each their own, I suppose. Some folk just ain't got much else goin' on in their lives. Gives 'em somethin' to talk about, I guess."
Winder nodded, understanding the sentiment. He had seen his fair share of meaningless conflicts in his travels. It seemed that even in these small towns, people found ways to occupy themselves, whether it be through fights or gossip.
As the fight continued, growing more chaotic by the minute, Winder decided it was best to finish his meal and retire to his room. He bid the man next to him farewell and made his way upstairs, hoping to find some peace and quiet away from the ruckus.
As he lay in bed, listening to the distant sounds of the ongoing fight, Winder couldn't help but wonder about the town and its inhabitants. It was a peculiar place, filled with frustrations and struggles, yet also resilience and determination.
Tomorrow, he thought to himself, tomorrow he would continue his journey and see what else this town had to offer. But for now, he would rest and prepare for the road ahead, hopeful that he could make a difference, even if it meant getting entangled in the town's peculiarities.