Kael kept a firm grip on the reins, his eyes fixed on the cloaked figure. The mule shifted nervously, sensing the tension in the air. The overturned cart and scattered goods told a story of trouble, but Kael couldn't yet tell if it was the kind that would test his wits or his courage.
"I asked if you needed help," Kael repeated, his voice steady but guarded.
The figure stepped forward, revealing a middle-aged man with a weathered face. His gray beard was unkempt, and his clothes bore the stains of travel. "Help? Aye, I could use it," the man said, his tone weary. "But trust is scarce on these roads, lad. Are you the helping sort or the looting kind?"
Kael frowned. "I'm a merchant, not a bandit."
The man studied him for a long moment, then nodded. "Fair enough. Name's Oren. My cart wheel broke on this cursed road, and I've been stranded here all morning. I've lost half my goods to the forest scavengers already."
Kael glanced at the overturned cart. Sacks of grain and small wooden crates were scattered across the ground. A broken wheel lay beside the cart, the axle split clean in half.
"You're lucky you weren't attacked," Kael said, climbing down from his cart.
Oren chuckled dryly. "Luck? That's a generous word for my morning." He gestured to the wheel. "Got any tools with you? I could fix this if I had a hand."
Kael hesitated. His father's voice echoed in his mind: A merchant's time is his most valuable currency. Spend it wisely. He had a schedule to keep, goods to sell, and a reputation to build. But leaving Oren stranded felt wrong.
"What's in it for me?" Kael asked, folding his arms.
Oren smirked. "A true merchant, eh? I'll pay you back, lad, though I've little to offer now. But a favor owed by a trader is worth more than gold, I assure you."
Kael considered the offer. His father had often traded favors, building alliances that paid off years later. A network of trust could be just as valuable as coin, he'd said.
"Alright," Kael said finally. "Let's get that wheel fixed."
Oren's face lit up. "You won't regret this."
Together, they inspected the cart. Kael fetched a spare length of rope and a small hammer from his own supplies. Oren directed the repairs, showing Kael how to lash the axle together with the rope to hold until a proper replacement could be found.
As they worked, Oren talked. He was a merchant too, though his trade was smaller than Kael's dreams. He traveled between villages, selling tools and seeds to farmers. His stories painted a picture of the road ahead: tough, unpredictable, but full of opportunity for those willing to take risks.
"There," Oren said after an hour of labor. "It's not pretty, but it'll hold for a few more miles. Enough to reach the next village."
Kael stepped back, wiping sweat from his brow. "You owe me that favor now."
Oren chuckled. "Aye, and I'll keep my word. Tell you what, I'll spread word of you to the traders I meet. A young merchant named Kael, honest and helpful. That kind of reputation will serve you well."
Kael nodded, a small spark of pride warming his chest. "Safe travels, Oren."
The two parted ways, and Kael climbed back onto his cart. The delay had cost him time, but the experience had taught him something invaluable: trade wasn't just about goods—it was about people.
As the road stretched out before him, Kael felt a new sense of purpose. The world of merchants was more complex than he'd imagined, but he was ready to face it, one deal at a time.