The Peddler

Feltlocke really was a small town. It was almost as soon as he had started to see the little cabin homes on the outskirts of the place, and passed the sign welcoming him to their little place on the frontier, that he found himself standing in the main square, and oh boy were there alot of eyes looking on at him. It seemed that he had wandered in on market day, as many vendors and stalls were set up around the main fountain that marked the significance of the square. Ponies of all kinds mewled about, carrying baskets and pushing carts of produce and other goods. But in this moment it seemed that the life of the market had some to a total stop from his presence.

Surprisingly, of the looks he was given, very few were of outright disgust. Most, from what he could tell, were of either of peaked curiosity, or plain surprise at his appearance. He thought, to be fair, that older, isolated country folk had to have known of the existence of griffon, changeling, minotaur, and bat pony alike, none-the-less the other, to him, mythical races that shared the world with the ponies, so what made him so different?

For all any of the locals knew, there was a whole country of humans just on the other side of the Spine of the World to the Far East, as High Sky had thought, or even beyond the woody plains of the Unexplored West, or to the Unknown North past Yakyakistan. But, despite all this, there were still hushed murmurs around him as he made his way through the marketplace, though of all this, he cared little.

He had come to learn that, despite all of his long ventures, and even revisits to some places during his years, he was still very much a stranger to this world, and when around such peoples as the pony tribes, actions mattered first and foremost above words. So, with this in mind, he stood up as tall as he could, breathed a deep breath, and strode confidently through main street.

“Howdy.”

“Mornin’”

“Fine day.” He greeted every stranger he passed, to the mares a tip of his hat was always given.

Feltlocke, despite being so small, did show quite the variety in places and characters, as he walked through the long stretch of buildings, most nearly covered by stalls and their own placements of merchandise, he spotted ponies off all kinds: down to earth (literally) earth ponies, agile pegasi running errands in the morn, and unicorns setting up shop or with bags floating in their magical grips. He noticed also here a griffon, of an alabaster eagle’s head and with a tan lower body, who stared at the man with thin, squinted, eyes as he passed. He had passed up two bakeries, both side by side (and closed surprisingly), one painted green, the other painted yellow. Not very appetizing colors, he thought. There was a barbershop here, something rare in Equestria as a whole, which was a strange surprise, and caught his eye faster than most other things. A little flower shop painted a deep blue with racks and bins filled with local picks. There were also a few of the just essentials as well: a little clinic, a smithy, a carpenter’s workshop, and a small apothecary; no doubt more in the exporting business (he had seen quite a few nice herbs during his time here in the forest), but what he had his sights on was something different, and what was, surprisingly, and the very end the main plaza and street.

‘Fuzzy’s Bobbles and Bits’ the old oaken sign read. He stood before the little store on the corner of the street and gandered around at all the little things that were displayed around in barrels and baskets: tools, fruit, sacks of four and other dry goods, all just sitting about the front of the store. To be fair, he doubted that anyone was worried about getting robbed around here. From what he could tell also, it was one of the few buildings to have glass panes rather than shutters over its windows. Though, they would need some big shutters to cover up the large display windows on the first floor. The architecture was also strange for the town. Feltlocke felt like how he would believe a frontier mining town would have felt: lots of wooden buildings with little flair outside perhaps paint and some wood work. But not Fuzzy’s Bobbles and Bits. This little corner store reminded him of the architecture of many towns in the North, more elegant and slightly more modern. He took in all the little bits of wood work on the window frames and the support beams for the little overhang just outside the front door. Even the paint, a brilliant dull pink mixed with deep reds, was of very nice quality.

The clop of a passing pony drew him out from his examination of the building, and he shrugged the pack on his back and looked to the door, ‘Come on in! We’re Open!’ a little card-stock sign read. If that isn’t inviting, I don’t know what is, the man thought. So he stepped up onto the slightly elevated mud deck of the store and took a closer peek inside. There were rows and rows of shelves and displays all packed with goods of all kinds, but he didn’t see the store’s owner or anyone else.

Perhaps he scared them into the back with all his thumping around, thought the man, but he pushed aside the cynical idea and breathed. The door opened with the little jingle of a bell, and there immediately came a muffled call from somewhere in the back of the story, “Just a minute!” The voice was very airy, and very feminine. Looking around at just how, at least for him, cramped the store was, he thought it best to take his pack and rest the large thing beside the door, along with his stick. He also peered at the shelves, and took up one of the miscellaneous cans on it. ‘Kanker’s Canned Apple Pie. Just warm and enjoy.’ Even he scrunched his face at that and shook his head. There were just a few things in this world that he wouldn’t eat, and some things he really should not exist in the first place.

The clopping of hooves against wooden floor boards made him raise his head away from the disgusting monstrosity he held in his hands, and could see the puffed tips of an orange mane moving around towards the back of the store, just behind a few shelves, “If ya’ need anything, just give me a holler!” The mare cheerfully called out from her place, she seemed to be moving some boxes or something around, if the rather loud thuds were anything to go by. It also occurred to him that perhaps she hadn’t noticed him being a strange human, so he decided he would continue looking about the store before any unpredictable elements came into play, and see if there was anything interesting he should pick up while he was here.

He mostly just needed some canned food he needed to stock up on at least, a few cans of corn, some peas, green beans, pinto beans, black beans, kidney beans, wow, there really were a lot of bean options. He took up a few cans of kidney beans, and a nice granny smith apple from the little produce section of the store. Though one thing did bug him, “Ma’am, there are a few stale apples here in the bin.” He said towards the sounds of the working pony.

There was, what seemed to be, the sound of a few cans falling to the ground and the rushed sound of thudding hooves against the wooden floor, “Stale apples!? In my bin-” The pony stopped upon turning the corner, and the man found a pair of deep green eyes staring at him.

The mare was rather short, even by most of his standards, but her orange mane was large and free flowing, but still kept up well. Her fur was a strange rose-pinkish color, and she sported a horn upon her forehead. A unicorn, huh? Though, to be fair, it seemed even out here in the farthest reaches of Equestria there was not much of a shortage of unicorns. From his place he even snuck a quick look at her flank, a cutie mark of a...well, it was hard to tell. It looked like a bag, maybe a coin purse? He inwardly shrugged, and moved his eyes back to match her own large irises, though she had yet to say anything in the past moment.

The man held up the two, slightly brown in some places, quite dry as well, green apples he had found at the bottom of the apple bin, “These two, here, ma’am.” He put them forward for her to see.

Her mouth opened a few times, as if she was going to say something, then decided against it. Rather, her horn glowed a dull red and she lifted the apples from his hands, “I...um...thank you, for letting me know.” She gave a small smile, though it could easily have been forced, and floated them over some shelves and out of sight, and she straightened out a moment, “So, is there anything else I can help with...sir?” She asked.

The man nodded, “Yes ma’am. You don’t seem to have prices on these shelves. Could you ring up the prices on these.” He pointed out the couple of cans of food he had placed on the shelf.

The mare, of whom he believed had to have been Fuzzy, nodded enthusiastically, “Oh! Of course sir! I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

He stopped her there, before she could walk away, “Not an inconvenience ma’am, no.” A smile on his face.

The mare nodded, returning the smile, and took the cans into her magical aura and floated them along, “Just this way sir, the front is just over here.”

The man followed along, and came upon the front, the counter had a little glass display beneath it, what looked to be some packaged candies and other, likely more expensive, items sat there. The mare moved behind the counter, just a bit more to the right, where her register was, and punched in a few numbers, “Sorry about the lack of labels, we don’t get very many new faces around here, and everypony around here knows my prices by heart.” She gave a soft chuckle, to which the man nodded in understanding, though he found himself eyeing the candy more than anything. It had been a long time since he had had anything sweet.

“These few items come out to seven and a half bits, sir.” The mare said, and after a moment, she spoke up again, “If you don’t mind me asking sir, who are you?”

The man's eyes gazed over to her once more and he tipped his hat, “Just a weary traveller, ma’am, looking to see the world for what it’s worth.”

“So a wanderer then.”

“Of a sorts, yes.”

The mare nodded, “I can understand that. And I won’t push you for a name, if you don’t wish to share it. Though don’t be surprised if some find it rude out here, sir.” She said, then stuck out one of her hooves, “My name, though, I’m happy to share. Fuzzy Bits at your service!”

The man squatted, curled his hand into a fist, and bumped Fuzzy’s outstretched hoof, the closest he could get to a pony’s idea of a handshake, and she retracted it.

“To be fair…” Started the man, “Despite my initial optimistic thoughts, I’d sort of expected more ponies to be a bit...well, startled...by my presence.” He chuckled, “I’m honestly surprised you’ve kept your head so well.”

Fuzzy gave him a soft smile of her own, “Well, we had a pegasus mare pass through with mail a day ago. She came in for some goods, and told me about this strange, but interesting creature on the road. Couldn’t stop talking about it!” She lost her smile for a moment, “I’d...just sort of assumed what she was describing was you, and that you were friendly enough...by her account.” Her smile came back again, her eyes meeting him.

After a moment, the man matched her smile, “Well, I’m glad to be living up to your expectations. I do hope.” Looking down to the display below the counter, he pointed to the dark blue and red box he had been eyeing up. “Say, think I could get a couple bars of those chocolates down there?” The man asked her.

Fuzzy moved over to the side of the counter where the display was, “Just so you know, sir, these bars go for about 8 bits on their own, just so you know.”

The man simply nodded in understanding.

“How many would you like?” Fuzzy asked, looking up at him.

“Three would do well.” Replied the man.

Opening the back sliding panel of the display, Fuzzy withdrew the three bars in her red glow, their gold foil wrapping glistening in the light, it’s blue and red sleeve read, ‘Mareka Milk Chocolate’ with the picture of a small foal dressed in a summer gown and hat, similar to how the man remembered the fashion of the 19th century back in his world. With a light thud the bars were placed on the counter, they were quite thick.

“That’ll be 31 and a half bits, sir.” Fuzzy said. Quite a hefty sum for a few bare essentials, and some chocolate.

The man simply nodded and pulled from his coat pocket a small bit bag, one that he always kept on him just in case his larger one on his pack ever became lost for any reason. Out he pulled a 20 bit coin, along with a ten, then finally a single bit and a silver one. Into the glow of Fuzzy’s magical aura they went, and she counted them out before popping the register, “Would you like a bag for these, sir?”

The man shook his head, “No thank you, I’ve brought my own.” He points behind him to the large bag that could be seen resting on the ground even from here.

Fuzzy nodded, “I see. Was there anything else I could do to help a stranger out?” She asked, her airy tone having returned.

The man thought for a moment, his hand going to his chin, “Yes, actually. Does this town have an inn of sorts, or maybe just a tavern?”

Again, Fuzzy nodded, “Yep. Dracon’s Inn, it’s just down the road outside of town.” She motioned with her hoof the way down the road.

“Why wouldn’t it be closer to the main square?” The man inquired, taking up his items from the countertop.

Fuzzy shrugged, “Dracon wanted to accommodate the travelers coming up from Los Pegasus, and those coming down from Ponyville to take the valley roads to Tale Tale, if they couldn’t take the train. His inn is not too far from town.” She finished.

“Ah, I see. A wise decision.” The man had placed the chocolate bars into one of his coat pockets, the cans he held in his arms, “Well, I’ll head on over and take a look. Maybe I could finally get this damned hitchhiker out of my boot, assuming they got rooms.” He chuckled, moving over towards his pack and depositing the cans into its main compartment. He turned back to her, “Oh, and by the way, Old Mister Mer, asked me to say hello.”

That seemed to perk Fuzzy up, her ears flicking, “Oh! You met Mister Mer?”

“Yeah, sold him a few of my goods coming over East from Tale Tale.”

Fuzzy’s interest seemed to be turned up to ten-fold again, “I thought you said you were a wanderer, not a merchant?”

The man shrugged, “I do a bit of both, mostly the wandering, if I’m going to be honest.” He closed up his bag, “I peddle goods all across the country. Been to just about every place in Equestria.” He paused a moment and looked back to Fuzzy, “...well, almost every place.”

Fuzzy said nothing, it seemed her mind was wandering along with his own, as memories of his trips and adventures started flooding back, though if he were to be honest, there were not many good memories, but he kept his smile none-the-less.

After a long moment of silence between them, the man gave a polite tip of his hat, “Well, Mrs. Fuzzy. If I need anything before I head out of town, I know where to go.” And with that, he took up his heavy pack and stick, and the door opened once again with the sound of that little bell.

Outside once again, the man took a deep breath in, the crisp air filling his lungs, and looked down the road to his left, where the trees started creeping once again back into the borders of the town slowly, a few homes built here and there between them. The road was still cobbled, however. Seeing no reason to stand around doing nothing, the man turned on a heel and started down the road, the hope of a warm bed and a bite to eat propelling his blistered feet.