Raska looked like she didn't quite know how to react.
A human had helped her brother and asked for nothing in return. He saw her trying to process what she was feeling and quite apparently failing, her lips quivering with uncertain words.
"Look, I know you've got a grudge with humans," Lex said. "I'm not sure why. I'm not from this world, as you've likely overheard."
Raska nodded slowly.
He'd said it a good bit away from the Moontrail hunters. However, the twitching of their ears and their facial reactions gave away the fact they could hear everything. They're canine, right? Their hearing shouldn't be underestimated.
"Where I'm from, it's considered natural to help someone who's hurt if you have the means to," Lex continued. "Part of the reason your brother was injured is my fault as the owner of this store, so it's only right to help where I can."
He stood straight, clearing his throat, before leaning over into a bow.
"I'm sorry."
Raska's amber eyes went wide. She made unintelligible noises like a machine stuck in a loop, broken only by Vargis bursting out laughing for reasons Lex couldn't think of.
"A human is apologising to a monster!" He doubled over. "Incredible!"
Lex glanced back at him. "What?"
It's basic manners.
A pained voice came from Rosco.
"Humans are... evil and greedy people who coveted our kin."
Raska shifted an arm behind him to keep him upright. "Brother..."
"Raska's not good with words, despite her intelligence."
Her expression darkened.
"Brother."
He chuckled, then coughed hard and pressed a hand against his ribs. When he looked up at Lex, his humour was gone.
"Lex, right?"
"Yeah."
"You're different from the humans I know. But you smell the same." He winced in pain. "You smell like you want something."
Lex frowned.
He'd been quite nice to these folk, he'd thought. Saved their lives and all that, then even given them pain relief. What more was he supposed to do before they stopped expecting a knife in their backs?
They come to my store uninvited and give me grief?
Rosco struggled as he tried to pry himself from his sister's arms.
"Humans don't do things for nothing," Rosco said. "Perhaps you helped because you're kind. Maybe you had another reason. I don't know you well enough to say."
Several hunters nodded one after the other.
"We wouldn't have made it without you. We would have been trampled into mush, our remains left only to feed the trees and grass. So, Owner Lex. Thank you."
A smile found its way to Lex's face.
At last. Progress. A little bit of gratitude.
He hadn't expected the words to feel this good, but a shiver ran up his spine when he heard them.
Raska didn't thank him, but at least she no longer looked ready to rip his throat out with her teeth.
I'll take it.
His smile settled. Rosco's words sat with him. He understood where the wolf boy was coming from. Humans were a greedy people. But that didn't mean they didn't have morals. It was just that the things humans did as humans often had an underlying purpose that was, for the most part, self-centred.
"Hey, I think I know what you mean."
"You do?"
"I wanted your brother to stop hurting, truly." He addressed Raska. "And I'd rather none of you died outside my shop, not to mention you're potential customers."
"There it is," Rosco murmured with a light shake of his head.
"Hey, at least I'm saying it to your face, alright?"
"That's true."
"If I let people who come to the store get killed, I'd be a pretty shit businessman, wouldn't I?"
"You are a shitty businessman," said Herman.
"Oh, shut up, you old squatter. If it ain't useful, don't say it."
Herman shrugged with a smirk, crossing his arms and looking pleased with himself.
"Anyway." He coughed loud enough to grab everyone's attention. "I'm opening shop soon. And I reckon you're all quite hungry?"
The Moontrail lowered their heads in different directions, as if the grumbling in their stomachs were embarrassing. Well, besides one.
"Hah, I sure could," said Rosco.
"Fantastic. Then this is the perfect time to show you what we offer food-wise." He clapped. "Herman!"
"I'm not your damn donkey," Herman said, going to retrieve the supplies regardless of his complaints.
Herman waddled back from the store with three cases of tins and some packets of jerky littered on top. He panted the whole way and put them down with a thud, Herman included as he fell over to get his breath back.
"These, gentlemen and gentleladies, are a new form of 'survival rations'."
Lex reached down with his box cutter and ran it through the thin layer of plastic casing, throwing a tin to each individual present.
Raska took a tin of haggis and sniffed it. "This doesn't smell like food."
"Again, Raska, interesting concept, like the 'bag': you've got to open it first."
Raska frowned as she brought the can to her sharp teeth, clamping down on the lip of the can.
"You don't need to use your teeth, either!" He sighed. "Here."
He held the can out in front of him, pulling the can's ring pull back with a finger, tugging hard and curling the lid off in one motion. "See? No teeth needed."
She copied him, curling a clawed nail under the ring and drawing it back. She peered inside, wrinkling her nose.
"It still doesn't smell like normal food."
"Well, that's haggis for you."
"What's a haggis?"
The corners of Lex's mouth twitched when she asked.
It's a wee bird-like beast from the Highlands of Scotland, was what he wanted to say.
However, the more commercial wording came out. "It's a speciality dish from up north of where I live. It's minced meat, grains and seasoning—packed with essential nutrients," said Lex, deciding to leave out which part of the animal it was made from.
Bah, that likely didn't matter. They probably ate the organs of sheep, right? Let's hope.
Raska tilted the can. "Why is it trapped inside metal?"
Vargis was already working on the lid of his own tin.
"Excellent question!" Lex said, gesturing towards Vargis. "Say, you're a scout. What do you take when you travel?"
"If it's for a short journey, whatever will keep till the next day."
"And after that?"
"Hunt, mostly, or forage if the forest favours me."
"And how long does that take?"
"An hour, three at most, unless I'm super unlucky."
"Well." He pointed to the can. "That is the problem these tins solve."
Vargis looked down at the can, assessing it in his hand.
"As long as it remains sealed, the food inside can last for years. It's easy to carry and easy to access whenever you need to. No more stopping to hunt. You can just keep going until the job's done."
Vargis arched a brow. "Years?"
"Says it on the tin."
"Only we can't read what's on the tin."
"That..." Lex blinked. "Really?"
"Really."
Lex frowned.
"Oh."
Guess they don't know English. But then how were they communicating?
Hang on. How did they read the store sign, then?
Maybe it worked like whatever let them understand each other when they spoke. If the store had always been meant to move between worlds, perhaps anything that was part of it got translated automatically.
But these tins had been made on Earth and brought straight over. Maybe the same rules didn't apply to them.
"Doesn't matter. Perhaps I'll get it translated one day. All you need to know is that it'll last you for long enough to eat it, I'm sure."
"And what if it doesn't?"
"Then I'll be putting in a complaint to its manufacturers, post-haste."
"That's... interesting," Vargis said, seemingly in thought. "It doesn't look appetising... But I can't deny its utility."
Lex wasn't going to make them eat it cold. Hell, not even Herman wanted to eat it cold, as could be seen when the man brought out the camping supplies. The Moontrail scavenged for firewood as Vargis built the fire pit. Before they knew it, a small fire was burning.
Lex stood by the store and watched, the day's events rotating through his mind.
"What are ya going to do with 'em now?" asked Herman.
"I don't know," he admitted. One look at the misfit group was all he needed to tell they were exhausted. "I don't mind letting them stay, at least until they recover some energy."
"Aye, that's good."
"What, did you think I was going to kick 'em out?"
"No, I didn't know what you would do. This situation is something I'd never have dreamed of."
"You're right about that..." Lex chuckled dryly.
Wraith approached them. He'd donned his robe once more, no longer looking like a perverted old goblin. Behind him, rattling bones followed with a large pack on its back.
"Owner Lex."
"Wraith." He nodded.
"These are goods we brought from our keep. In truth, Vargis was tasked with procuring some goods from you. And, well, to say the least, I'm interested."
Lex arched a brow. "Really? We don't have much."
"Yes, yes, but there are still plenty of those tins. If anything, I'd like to know your price."
Lex felt his jaw go slack a little before he caught himself.
Price.
An essential component in business, not to mention marketing. What was a reasonable price?
More than that, how did it convert into Earth money?
I doubt they have a debit card or pounds sterling, he thought. He just had a feeling backwater goblins in a fantasy world didn't have access to Visa or Mastercard.
There was only one person—or thing—that he could ask.
"Hm."
"What's wrong?" asked Wraith, his gaze as piercing as ever.
"Nothing. Nothing at all. It's more of a technical issue than anything—" Lex stopped. "Well, actually. Give me one second."
He walked into the warehouse, closing the door behind him. He reached into his pocket, pulled out the gold CEO card and pressed it against his forehead.
His eyes scanned down the list of numbers until he arrived at the crux of his thinking: the abilities section.
"There it is."
Checkout (F)
Now the question remained: how did he use it? Luckily the Terminal was there to provide assistance.
[ I am overjoyed to see you using your brain. ]
The Terminal said it in the most monotonous tone.
"Gee, thanks. How do I use it? Do I just say, Checkout?"
Lo and behold, a narrow line stretched out in his vision before expanding into a translucent checkout page. It seemed to be designed by a web developer for a dropshipping startup.
( Checkout )
Customer: Not selected
Goods: None
Total Value: —
Payment Offered: None
Converted Value: —
Balance: —
( Confirm Trade )
( Close Panel )
Lex blinked at the screen.
[ Yes. ]
His mouth twitched.
"Thank you, Mr Hindsight."
[ You're welcome. ]
He shook his head and assessed the screen. He could instinctively feel how to operate the checkout ability and played around with the items in the warehouse to figure it out. He walked over to Herman's toolbox.
Now that he thought about it, he had other abilities too, didn't he? Appraisal, or something like that.
With just a thought, a new panel opened in his vision.
( Herman's Toolbox - Used )
Description: A beloved toolbox aged with time. Although old, it is in good condition and contains a variety of tools and screws that would suit any respectable workman. Yet its sentimental value to its owner is worth more than gold.
Value: £157.63
Lex smiled. Even the ability knew how much it meant to Herman.
He wasn't lying when he said it was worth more than what I got. Hell, I paid, like, fifty quid for the samples? And damn, that's not a bad price for an old, used toolbox—the hell has he got in there?
But he let his curiosity die there. He didn't want to dig around Herman's stuff. He couldn't imagine his reaction if he saw him doing it. It sent shivers down his back.
Wait a minute. That prick opened my car and delved through my boot like it was nothing. Why am I giving him consideration?
He gave the box another glance before shaking his head. Don't stoop to his level.
The screens closed with a wave of his hand. Now it was time to go do something he'd thought would never happen.
Make the first sale! Finally!