Berholdt was not a storekeeper by his own choice, he wanted that to be clear right from the beginning. Growing up, he had always wanted to be a carpenter, or perhaps a lumberjack, but when he was ten his father had sat him down, told him matter-of-factly that he was being apprenticed to Gerald of the Many Goods, and that had been that. His dreams of treefelling, felled before they had even begun.
So, that morning, he was not feeling in a very good mood, as he opened shop, set up goods, chatted to some early-morning supply-gatherers, one or two shepherds, all of who left quickly, leaving him alone until the town in general awakened. He was just counting out some leeks, when he heard the slight click of the shop door opening and closing, but when he glanced up, nothing was there, weird.
He turned back, finished the leeks, started weighing the cabbage out on the scales, when he heard someone cough.
There was - and how in Inferno had she managed to get there? - a small person, standing before the counter, forehead barely peeking up from behind it, neck craned to look up at the shopkeeper, grey eyes batting lashes in a way that was likely intended to be seductive.
Berholdt frowned, recognition breeding unease. It was that strange little lady who was always lurking around near the Baron, the one with the crossbow, and the unnerving smile.
"Hello, friend," she said.
"I wouldn't be so sure about that," he grumbled, eying the girl nervously. "What do you want, little person?"
"Firstly, and this is important, you need to listen, please, if you ever call me 'little person' again, I'm sorry about this, but I will ensure your tongue and your balls become such good friends with one another that they share embarrassing stories about their wives, and their bedroom antics, and how they go about pleasuring themselves, they'll be such good friends, they'll probably sing songs together and go down to the alehouse and wash each other's back, won't that be nice," she replied, still smiling brightly and talking in a sickly-sweet tone, "And secondly, I want a cake."
"A... a what?"
"A cake, some food, a tasty thing, you make it out pastry, and sugar, and honey, and occasionally some bonemeal, I think, I'm not sure, but it's a good thing, a very good thing, I need one."
"W-w-why?"
"It's my birthday month after next, I'm turning fifteen, it's the first time in the history of the world that I'll be fifteen, brilliant, yes, so I'm going to be throwing a party, everyone's invited, well, all my friends, everyone important, so I suppose you're out, you don't seem friendly, oh, no, I'm sorry, I'm kidding, I love you, will you marry me, wait, no, you have a wife, I could kill her, no, that would be mean, you're my friend, it's bad to be mean to friends-"
While this monologue continued, Berholdt had gingerly crossed his arms and put the heavy bronze scales, out of some animalistic desire to have something, anything, between him and her. But the girl had walked off, and was now inspecting the goods on sale on the right counter, even as she continued rambling.
"-I need a husband, you see, if I'm to have children, I would prefer to have a prince, a handsome one with long blonde hair and arms like tree trunks, but failing that, I could take the Baron, but that would be dull, I think he's already like that with his dogs, don't want to get in between that, wait, no, that's mean, I shouldn't say that, I love him, he loves me, I think, say, are these pears ripe, pears go bad so easily, you know, you have to be careful, I have to be careful, I also need streamers and hats for the party, husband, husband, you know, I suppose I might not need one, Orophin could find a way for me to bear child without one, he'd do it just to make sure I don't spend too much time around one person, he's like that, you know, always worrying about me, maybe I should marry him, wait, no, forget I said that, I don't even want to think about that, eugh, he's a century older than me, he'd say I was crazy if he heard that, do you think that? Do you think I'm crazy?" she finished, suddenly turning back to Berholdt.
"Ah-" he swallows, and blinks, "Shall I answer honestly, or gently?"
"Can you do both?"
"No." He starts fumbling at the ledger below the counter. "Did you say something about a cake?"
"Yes, the cake, it has to be big, and sweet, plenty of honey and pastry, and fifteen candles, if you have a different number everyone will start thinking I'm ageing backwards, or worse, aging normally but faster, that's too terrible too even think about!"
"Right..."
"How fast can you get one made?
"I can't get one made, I'll have to order in from up north. Do you realise how much this is going to cost?"
"Oh, a guessing game, let's see, my tongue, my clothing, my virginity, my soul, my life, my earplugs, which?"
"No, none of those, it'll- it'll cost fifty pieces."
"Ooh, gold or copper?"
"GOLD, you little per-"
What happened next happened very quickly. Berholdt had brought out the ledger to the top of the counter, and was pressing his open hand on it to hold the pages down. As he spoke, he blinked, and when his eyes opened the creature was crouching on the counter, face an inch away from his, and she was no longer smiling, just raising an eyebrow imperiously.
Additionally, her hand was just above his, clutching a dagger, which had struck down directly between his middle and ring fingers, piercing the spine of the book.
It had caused a little nick, just between his second and third knuckle. The nick burned.
"Let's talk about something else," she murmurs quietly, as Berholdt backs away wide-eyed, clutching at his hand. "A few days back, while I was out and about and unable to stop it, something killed a boy named Bevan. Do- did you know him? He took care of the flocks up in the north pastures, when Corwin was busy. Do you know, that boy smiled at me, the times I came over to visit? He had the cutest little smile. He had a birthmark, on his right cheek, he blushed whenever I touched it. He didn't mind when I wouldn't stop talking. He was going to teach me to play the lyre. He was my friend. Berholdt of Briarford, you know more than most about conditions around this town, do you have any idea what might have done this?
The shopkeeper forces himself not to hyperventilate. "Can't say I do-"
"Mmm?" She still isn't smiling.
"But- but give me a while, to talk to people, see who's been where done what, I'm sure I can find something to help you-"
"Excellent!" She smiles, and it's like the sun coming up. "It is good, that we understand each other, it is so, so terrible, when friends must fight one another, I'm sure you'll be very, very successful in your inquiries, you have been so helpful, thank you most kindly." She gets off the counter, and that dagger finally comes out of his ledger. "How long will it take to have the cake delivered?"
"A month."
"How much honey and pastry will it have?"
"As much as possible."
"You are learning!" She beams at him. "I will pay you when it arrives, for now, you have my word as your friend, that you may trust me."
"Very well, miss."
The creature was now making it's way towards the door. "Farewell, then, give my regards to your wife, be sure to talk to her often!"
"...why?"
"She is also one of my informants, it is so important for the Tongue's Children to talk, to coordinate, get better results, don't you think, I think so, see you soon, I'm sure!"
The shop's door clicks shut.
And then there is silence.