Never Go Off-Script

Chapter 2 - Cedar's POV

I collapsed into my stool with a heavy sigh, my feet aching. Thanks to that hero, I'd gone the entire trip to the docks with a pack full of tradeables. Sure, I had a few customers come in from the village after he left, but unfortunately, I hadn't managed to trade off everything he'd given me.

The worst of it was the swords. If someone had taken those, I would've been fine with everything else. But no, they wanted pretty much anything but the swords. I mean, I don't exactly blame them — I sure wouldn't fancy a pair of rusted, battle-worn swords — but that didn't change the fact that I had to lug them halfway across the map and back. Honestly, it was just my luck. After all, when have I ever gotten it easy?

Pulling off my leather boots to massage my sore feet, I stared around the path surrounded by trading stands, watching the other traders complete successful transactions with various customers. This portion of the path was named the Trader's Path — for obvious reasons — but most adventurers just called it, "the market". The market was set up smack-dab in the center of the map, of which this path ran all the way across, winding snake-like from north to south.

I'd only ever taken the path northward, which went through the grasslands and forest, up the mountain pass, and down to the North Sea, where the docks were built over the water and coastal industry boomed. From looking at my map, I knew that if I took the south path through the wooded hills for a few days, I would reach the main village. From there, I could take multiple different pathways from there to visit outlying villages and towns. And if I continued south past the villages, I would cross through the canyons (AKA the bandit hideouts) and eventually reach the swamps (sorcerer central), which bled into the South Sea.

But knowing this wasn't enough. I wanted to see it, to experience it for myself. But a trader can only do what the script allows, and there's nothing in the script about going south — or anywhere else, for that matter.

I slipped my boots back on, releasing yet another sigh as my eyes roved the peaceful grasslands that I spent my days in. There weren't many animals here; most of them lived in the forests. But now and then, I'd see a stray bunny or squirrel, or a hawk flying overhead. When I started here, I read in the disclaimer section of the script that animals can be dangerous, and that I should be wary of them. I'd always found them cute and couldn't see how they were dangerous, but I've never interacted with one to see for myself — I wasn't supposed to show interest in thing like that.

I'm not supposed to show interest in people, either, I thought sardonically to myself, and look how well that went.

It had been a few weeks since that hero came through, and not a day went by without me thinking about it. To be honest, I'm not surprised I acted the way I did, since he kind of deserved it for being so rude. No, it didn't justify my actions, but at least it gave me some reasoning behind them.

I just hoped I didn't see him again anytime soon.

Yawning, I averted my eyes from the north path, which I always watched nervously whenever that hero made his way into my thoughts again. I vaguely wondered if other traders thought about their customers for weeks after interacting with them. It wouldn't do any good to ask about it, since we all had to stick to the same script, so I could only wonder about such things.

With the Trader's Path bustling around me, customers passing by my stand without so much as a glance toward me, I often found myself zoned out. There was no reason to stay focused when I only dealt with a maximum of three customers per day. It was like I was invisible to the eyes of all passersby.

Except for him...

As I stared at nothing in particular, my mind swirling tediously with repetitive thoughts, my eyes registered movement to my left. I refocused my gaze on the white horse coming toward my stand, from the south this time, and sighed internally. There went my hopes of never seeing him again.

Maybe he won't remember me, I thought with false hope as I prepared myself for the exchange. Or maybe it's not him. Lots of heroes have white horses. Whatever the case, I prayed I wouldn't neglect my script this time.

The gallant snowy horse stopped before me, its rider clambering down. It was definitely the same man — though he'd attained a dented helmet in addition to his worn armor — and had a battle ax strapped to his belt to replace the bow he'd traded me last time. I'd examined the bow, and it turned out to be really cheap quality; which would fare well for an adventurer, but was definitely not suited for hero work. It's no wonder he wanted to be rid of it.

I mentally chastened myself in advance for any flubs in my lines. I wouldn't allow myself to veer from the script again.

"Greetings, traveler! Here to make a trade?" My tone was perfectly cheerful; I could almost fool myself into forgetting my bitter thoughts toward him. I noticed with mild surprise that, unlike last time, the hero didn't interrupt me.

The hero shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Hello, yes, I am," he mumbled, his brilliant blue eyes looking anywhere but at me.

My surprise deepened, and I raised a scathing eyebrow. "Oh, so you're not above saying 'hello', after all?" Immediately, I suppressed the urge to cringe. For realm's sake, what is wrong with me?! I cursed myself endlessly in my head, grateful that heroes couldn't read minds, at the very least.

But the hero just faltered slightly, his fluster visible even under the helmet. "No, I'm not. I just... I was in a hurry last time." It was difficult to hear him since he muttered, but the way he spoke sounded almost apologetic.

I was mortified to find myself blushing, too. "It's fine, I get it," I mumbled, quickly fumbling to open my pack. My eagerness to get this encounter back into familiar territory made my movements clumsy. Oh, why did I feel the need to get all snarky?

Revealing the contents of my pack to the hero, I wondered if he would recognize his own swords from last time — besides the two of them, I had managed to gain a few healing and stamina potions. And I still had the loaf of bread. Thank gods food didn't go bad until after it was traded.

The hero opened his own pack, his gloved hands steady. I wondered how much hero-work it took to make those hands so strong, and how many permanent markings he had beneath the gloves to prove it.

"I'd like to sell this," the hero offered, pulling out what I recognized as the dagger I'd traded him last time. "And, uh... I'll take one of those swords," he said, pointing at the swords inside my pack.

I blinked, momentarily forgetting my affront toward him reselling the dagger. "One of... these swords?" I checked, confused.

The hero looked faintly irritated. "What other swords would I be talking about? Yes, one of those swords," he snapped.

There was that angry behavior I recognized from last time. Clenching my jaw against an equally snappy retort, I looked at the fine battle ax strapped to the hero's waist belt, and then down at the crappy, slightly rusted junk swords the hero had traded me just two weeks earlier. Why in the world would he want one of these?

"Okay, fine, weirdo. Here's your sword back," I said under my breath, handing the marginally better sword to the hero, who gave me a strange look — like a mix of scandalized and fascinated.

He took the sword with practiced ease, passing me the dagger and gold for the exchange, and turned to leave without a word. I glared at his broad back, frustrated. This man had no tact.

At the last second, the hero spun on his heel, his shoulder-length golden hair swishing silkily over his shoulder. He faced me with an odd look that I couldn't quite distinguish because of his helmet.

"Thank you," he said gruffly, his eyes shifting stubbornly to the side, and then hurriedly turned away, leaping gracefully onto his horse and taking off with a flick of the reins.

I watched him gallop northward up the path, struck into awe. "You're... welcome?" I muttered, even though he was far out of earshot.

Huh.