[Frostfawn Hold] Haggle Properly! (open)

[Garran Frostfawn]

Spring 10, 513 AV Garran squinted up at the lowering sky. It seemed that the sunshine earlier in the day was retreating in the teeth of the oncoming weather. It was still far too early for rain, so snowfall would probably be on them by the time Leth graced the night sky. For now, Syna’s fitful rays shone only as a vague, pale backdrop to the dove colored cloud cover overhead. Stomping his boots on the bristly mat that was spread out before one of the doors into the main living areas of the hold, Garran dislodged a mix of snow and straw and muck, before ducking inside the building. Shedding his coat and boots, he stowed them neatly in the communal alcove provided for temporary storage of such for all the Hold members who were busy to-ing and fro-ing during the course of their busy days. Normally, Garran was not to be found in this part of the Hold during daylight hours – and now that a few of the mares were coming close to their delivery dates, there were quite a few nights too that saw him sleeping in the stables instead of his own bed. But he had heard that there was a visitor to the Frostfawn Hold, just newly arrived, and who brought with him a veritable smorgasbord of goods – from Syliras. At least, the traveling merchant was said to be from that far off city. Who knew where his goods came from? In any case, Garran was interested to see what the man had on offer, and was taking a few minutes before it was time for the evening feeding of the stock to inspect whatever was on display. Making his way through the corridor to a large, open central space, used for large family gatherings and meetings and special communal meals and events, he wondered if there would be anything for sale that had to do with horses.

[Ronan Dugal]

With limited skill, Ronan maneuvered his horse and wagon through the snow. Terrible day to do anything. Snow everywhere and now even the little bit of sunlight they had had during the day was disappearing behind what looked like snowstorm clouds. As he looked ahead, Ronan could see the snow covered trees in front of him. The path seemed to disappeared between them. Avanthal forest, home of Frostfawn hold and their many potential customers. Ronan was hoping to sell his Furs and hides and his leather, both clothing and armor grade. And his arrows. And maybe the guard dog. He had been useful on the road but here it was unnecessary. Those arrows had been a mistake on Ronan's part. He hadn't realized how well the local arrows were made. Even the 'they're from Syliras' speech didn't help with the sales. He was hoping to get at least the same price out of them as when he had bought them. "Tsk... Stupid." The mistake really weighed down on Ronan. As his wagon slowly crept through the snow, the horse pulling it forward as it fought the snow as much as Ronan had to when on foot, the sun hid behind more clouds. Ronan maneuvered the horse and cart further up the road and towards the hold as he grumbled at the lack of proper roads. Sometimes he missed certain things from back in Syliras. Not very often, but every now and then he did. Finally, ever so slowly, the horse pulled the wagon the last steps towards the entrance to the hold. From inside, Ronan could hear the sound of people, lots of them. Grabbing the first person he saw, Ronan asked where he could find the most members of Forstfawn hold at this time of day. He was quickly pointed in the direction of the noise. Making sure the snow and dirt and mud was off of his boots, Ronan walked through the building towards the sound of people being busy. He hoped to get lucky and sell all of his stuff here. Sure, like that was going to happen. As soon as he entered the large open space, probably somewhere in the middle of the entire building, Ronan was met with an explosion of sound. People moving about, talking and laughing, going about their business. Arguing and pointing, discussing and agreeing. The bustling sound of customers. Ronan rubbed his hands together, the archer gloves only covering two of his fingers on each hand, the other three slightly blue from the cold. Now, how to get the attention of everyone at the same time? If he had known who was in charge he might have gone there and contacted them personally but he didn't know and he also had no clue about any Avanthalian customs so, with nothing else for it, Ronan walked to about the middle of the room. While probably breaking a whole load of customs and rules at the same time, Ronan dragged a chair behind him and put it somewhere in the center of the room, where he had a good view on everyone. He sat himself down on the chair and started to untie his boots, placing them next to each other besides the chair. With his socks on and happy to be indoors while doing something like this, Ronan got up on the chair and stood up straight. Towering over most of the people in the room now, Ronan gave them a moment to take in the sights of this odd and possibly disrespectful sight. Standing on furniture wasn't frowned upon where he came from. As people started to notice him things quieted down until everyone was looking at Ronan. He smiled around and nodded to some of the people closer to him before finally speaking. "So... Good afternoon, dear Frostfawns." Frostfawns, was that correct? Ronan sure hoped so. There were so many people here. Ronan swallowed before continuing. "My name is Ronan, Ronan Dugal, and well...I'm a trader from Syliras. I bring you goods from the center of Mizahar, from the city of the Syliran Knights, from the center of civilization, or so they claim. Their goods range from all over Mizahar, through their sea routes." Ronan put a pause in, seemingly for dramatic effect but more because he was trying to remember why he would ever do something so stupid as to get up on a chair in the middle of a hold and address everyone at the same time. Ronan Dugal, you're an idiot. "All my goods are outside waiting to be sold, in the snow and cold, which is obviously not a problem for you but for a city dweller and newcomer such as myself it's quite cold outside." At first, his speech and talking had been a source of confusion for the people of the Frostfawn hold, especially with him standing on top of a chair, but as he spoke they seemed to warm up to Ronan and his open attitude. His little joke towards it being cold in Avanthal drew a slight chuckle from some of the people around him. "Is it possible for me to set up shop somewhere near a warm fire in order for me to show you my wares. If I heard correctly, the Frostfawns are the best hunters around." A cheer from a group of hunters at a table near the outer edge of the room drew Ronan's eyes. Encouraged by their positive feedback to his little speech, Ronan continued. "There they are. And what about the best leatherworkers around?" A woohoo from behind him had Ronan turn around and focus on the group there, pointing at them with a smile. This was going better then expected. "The leatherworkers are in high spirits, I see. And the weavers? Where are the best weavers in Avanthal?" A group of mostly women near one of the fires cheered towards Ronan. "Oh my. That seems to be the most beautiful profession around." Ronan held his hands up, palms outward towards the men that were closest to him as he smiled at them, just in case. "Well, I can safely say that I got interesting Syliran quality goods in my possession that will pique the interest of everyone in this room. Thank you for your attention. Now, how about that spot near the fire?" Ronan was sweating as he stepped off the chair. Not only from the heat in the room but simply because he had survived his little stunt just now. He mentally banged himself over the head a few times. Ronan felt like he had done quite well, although he couldn't be sure. Maybe they were all drunk and thought he was some form of entertainment. Or maybe his Vani speech was more rusty then he remembered and he had just insulted all the other holds at the same time, he wasn't sure. Clearing his throat softly, to adjust his vocal cords to the extensive use of Vani, Ronan sat down on his chair as he put his boots back on. The buzzing of talking started around him soon enough as he was approached by someone from the hold who explained to him where he could park his stuff and that they would prepare a place for him to set up shop for the evening. Guided by this person, Ronan walked out and followed the man's directions, parking his wagon on the side of the hold and started to carry his goods inside, with help from some of the younger hold members who were more interested in seeing what he had for sale firsthand than in helping him.

[Garran Frostfawn]

When he arrived in the spacious central gathering place, Garran could see that things were just then getting organized. More than a few of his relatives were hustling back and forth, in and out through a side entrance to the room, carrying in boxes and baskets and crates and all manners of containers. All the Frostfawns were technically his cousins in one degree or another, though there were so many of them that he would certainly never know each and every one individually. So some of the faces, many in fact, he recognized but a few he only knew by sight with no name in particular to associate with them. In any case, he thought he could lend a hand, and thus the goods would be on display the quicker. So he stepped over to the door, his bootless feet preventing him from actually stepping outside, and he craned his neck past a male cousin who was just bringing in a heavy leather box. “Make yourself useful, Garran,” the young Vantha chided. “Lend us a hand.” Garran stuck his hands out. “I'll give you both of them," he replied with a grin. "Here, give me that and you go get another one off the wagon,” Garran relieved the other of his load and turned back into the room. He peered about and it was easy to spot the non-Vantha amongst them. He was overdressed, for one thing, and Garran thought, as he always did when he saw outlanders, that it was a great thing to bear Morwen’s mark, and thus not have to worry about the cold of their far northern domain. Additionally, the style of clothing was not what one typically saw about Avanthal, and though the young man in question had dark hair, there was no iridescent shimmer to its depths as he moved about by the light of the huge fireplace. Of course, the real give away was how this guy was directing traffic – pointing out spots for this container or that, and already busying himself with their display. Garran walked over to the merchant, and asked cordially, “Where shall I put this?” and then he smirked and added, “And no funny answers, please.”

[Ronan Dugal]

Now there was a curious sight. Ronan looked outside, through the side entrance, and saw a group of younger hold members carrying his stuff around. Not that he had all that many things that needed carrying but they all helped together. That in itself was not such a curious sight. The fact that one of the younger hold members spoke to an obviously older one with a tone of command was what piqued Ronan's interest. Such a thing was impossible in Syliras, except if you were a knight talking to a non knight. Ronan shook his head as the older Vanthalian listened and took over a box from the younger one. "Thanks. You can place that over there." Ronan pointed to a spot next to some other boxes and containers after having looked in the box the man was holding. He was working on creating a nice display for his goods, ranging them from front to back in order of possibility of selling it here. In front you could find all the leather he had, nicely stacked per grade, garment and armor, and next to it he had his furs and hides from Syliras. They still needed some preparation by a tailor, probably. The arrows, his one failure in his inventory, were displayed nicely next to them. The rest of his items, the weapons, the food and the metals were displayed behind them, not necessarily hidden away but placed in such a way that they wouldn't draw the first attention out of his inventory. Almost as soon as things were displayed, people started moving to check Ronan's wares. Most of them just passed a glance or two at his items, some of them checked the quality but almost all of them quickly lost interest for various reasons. Some remained interested and starting asking for the prices. "The fabric is furs and hides are 6 Golden Mizas for a pound." The man seemed interested. Ronan didn't know if he was a leatherworker or a tailor or even a beastmaster, but interest was always nice. "6 GM? That sounds decent. I'll take two pounds." Ronan smiled as he weighed off by hand two pounds from the furs and hides. He didn't have scales and he had learned not to use them so his hands were enough for the task. With the furs over his arm he stretched it out towards the customer, who inspected them yet again, which kept him happy and he bought the furs. Pocketing the 12 GM, Ronan smiled at the other customers. "How can I help you, miss? The shortbow arrows? They're 6 Copper Mizas per arrow. But if you buy them in a stack of 20, I'll make you a deal and sell them to you for 1 golden Miza." He smiled at her. With the arrow business being so well established here, his arrows wouldn't fetch more than the local price so Ronan disguised his prices as good deals in order to attempt to boost sales. The woman bought a set of 20 arrows, handing Ronan the money. People came and went, looking at his wares and at him, most of those looks were from the women, although he did notice a few men looking at him as well, curious, interested in his clothes and hair. Well, you had all sorts of people in the world. He spoke at length with a few of the customers, talking a little about where he was from and how he had gotten here. One of the men who had been looking at him approached him a little later, asking questions about his clothes and about the leather he was selling. His interest was mostly in the design of Ronan's clothes and not so much in the man himself, which assured Ronan a little but didn't show it. "The leather is from the local wildlife around Syliras. It has been prepared by some of the best leatherworkers I know in Syliras to be used for the creation of clothes or armor, depending on the leather you're looking for." The man inspected the leather, turned it around, looked at the edges and felt it up to check the preparation of it. "Three Silver Mizas for the garment grade and 1 Golden Miza for the armor grade leather?" Ronan smiled at the man. With those prices he wouldn't make any profit. "If I sold them at those prices, I could have saved myself the trouble of coming all the way to Avanthal. The garment leathers are 5 Silver Mizas a pound and the armor leather I can sell for no less than 2 Golden Mizas a pound." The two men haggled on for some time, always lowering or raising the price towards a common goal somewhere in the middle. Pro and Contra arguments were passed back and forth. "Prepared by the best leatherworkers in Syliras." - "They've lost some of their treatment due to the long trip." - "They're still in perfect condition, sir." - "I could just buy the leather here and prepare it myself." - "But with this leather you'll be one of the few people in Avanthal able to say that you're selling Syliran leather." The back and forth continued and Ronan found himself having more and more fun with the man. A little spark in his eyes betrayed his enjoyment towards the little game. They finally settled on 4 Silver Mizas a pound for the garment grade leather and 14 Silver Miza a pound for the armor grade leather. Sealing the deal with a handshake first and a written bill of sale afterwards, stamped with the seal of Ronan's company, the man holding the crate and the coins was pressed into a blob of wax on the paper. Ronan sold the man half his leather inventory, 5 pounds each for both the garment and armor graded leather.

[Garran Frostfawn]

Garran did as the merchant instructed, being typically an easy going fellow. He was interested to see what was on offer, so after putting down the box in the spot indicated, he began to mosy about, looking at the display so far, poking into some boxes and such that weren’t yet fully unpacked, and getting a feel for what this merchant had for sale. Finally, everything had been unpacked, or so it seemed to Garran, and he was a bit disappointed there was no riding gear, per se. He would have been especially interested in seeing how they fashioned their saddles in the east. But there was leather, and he had a long look at that, thinking about possibly having a new bridle made for his mare. He just happened to know a really kick ass leatherworker now. That thought made him smile a bit. Unfortunately, he wasn’t sure himself if this was really the right quality of leather for such a job. He supposed he could try to go round up Niko and make him come and have a look. Garran was pondering doing just that, when he heard a small commotion over by the door through which the goods had been brought into the great room. His eyes shifted to a shimmering orangey-gold, his interest piqued, and he moved over to see what it was all about. Listening, it seemed that one of the Hold dogs had gotten into a scuffle with a strange dog – maybe the one belonging to the merchant? People were moving outside to look and Garran went too, for he was kind of a nosy guy, or shall we say – curious? Even though he had no boots on, the Spring weather was such that, for a Vantha, he could stand the cold for a bit in just his socks. Once outside, he craned his neck to get a look at what was going on, wondering if indeed the merchant’s dog had either instigated or been the recipient of some aggression with one of the local canines. OOCI was thinking Gar might buy your dog, seeing as you said Ro might sell it

[Ronan Dugal]

Ronan was talking to a man, trying to convince him to buy some of his arrows. Those damn arrows just didn't go over the counter. Not that Ronan had a counter at the moment. Or that he had ever had a counter of his own before in his life. It didn't seem like the man was all that interested. Perhaps Ronan should just gift these arrows to someone, rather than try to sell them. The man thanked Ronan and left and Ronan's mind wandered off for a moment, blanking him out as he thought about a certain woman who seemed to have a good grasp of archery. His train of thoughts was disturbed by people seemingly interested in something outside. They flocked to the exit that lead to Ronan's wagon and horse. A little worried something might have happened to his, possible, wares, Ronan left his shop for a moment, hoping that the Avanthalians weren't going to try and steal him blind. He elbowed his way through the crowd gathering in the doorway and outside, in the snow. The sudden change from warm inside fire and cold outside air and snow had Ronan shivering as he pulled his cloak around himself in an attempt to stay warm(er). From what he could tell, someone was fighting or something and dogs were barking. Not too wrong, Ronan noticed the two dogs in the snow, growling at each other as they stared down one another. "What's going on here? Why is that dog attacking mine?" Ronan stepped forward out of the circle of onlookers towards the two fighting dogs. "Just bite his tail of, dog." Ronan approached the fighting animals, encouraging his guard dog who was consequently named dog since Ronan never bothered to give him a name or anything. The other dog growled towards Ronan. Having been brought up in a 'strength is authority' type of city, Ronan did the one thing that he had seen all his life to stay in charge. He kicked towards the dog. "Whoever owns this pet should teach it some manners." Sure, not the best move ever considering the place Ronan was at. Frostfawn hold was known to Ronan for their animal skills and leather skills but he didn't know that animals were also considered part of the family. Whoever owned the dog would probably be rather annoyed, if not outright mad, at Ronan. The dog dodged his kick and retreated, disappearing into the crowd. "See, that wasn't so bad, was it." Ronan smirked at Dog and scratched him behind his ear. "A Syliran guard dog, ladies and gentlemen. Only 90 Golden Mizas. He's very well trained, has seen quite a bit of the world and has saved my life more than once." Dog's tongue was hanging from his lips as he looked up at Ronan who was addressing the crowd around him for a moment. Now was as good a time as any to try and sell his dog. With little to no response to his trade offer, Ronan checked that everything was alright with the horse, who had received some food from a few of the kids, Ronan assumed, and the wagon, Ronan headed back inside, after petting Dog a little more. Once more surrounded by the warmth of the Hold's fires, Ronan got back to trading, talking to the people of the hold about the weather, the economy, trader stuff and mostly his goods.

[Garran Frostfawn]

The merchant too came out of the Hold's main building, in a hurry, with an anxious expression on his face. Garran had already scoped out the dog fight that was brewing, though he thought in the end it might come to nothing more than raised hackles and a display of dominance. The two animals were circling one another slowly, as the Syliran merchant came barging over, and did something which Garran thought to be quite stupid, given where the man was. An elder had once opined to Garran that the four main reasons men brawled were women, booze, boundaries and dogs. In his life, Garran couldn’t say the old man had been far from wrong. When the merchant kicked at the local canine, a collective gasp went up from those standing around looking on. It might have been that if the Frostfawn dog had turned on the man – which was a good bet – the guy’s own guard dog would intervene and save his silly skin. But if he hurt the dog that wasn’t his – especially here in this Hold – it was unlikely that his dog could have saved him from the wrath of the animal loving Vantha who were thronged about. In the end, though, it was all a tempest in a teapot, as the local dog scampered off, and the Frostfawns who were gathered around grumbled and muttered but no-one outright attacked the foreigner, not physically. Garran wondered how his behavior might affect his potential profits, but that was none of the horse trainer’s concern. He was turning to go back inside, when he heard the merchant offer the animal up for sale – at a price that made Garran turn back around with a laugh. He wasn’t the only one hooting in derision at the pie in the sky dream the Syliran apparently harbored, in terms of what he could get for the dog. Good guard dog or no – 90 gold mizas was ridiculous! Garran shook his head in disbelief at the man’s temerity, and returned to the main room, where the merchant was once again standing by his wares. Just feeling like he wanted to yank the guy’s chain for being both stupid and brash, Garran meandered over to him and said, “I’ll give you ten for your dog – he probably deserves a better owner than you anyway. Do you normally make it a habit to kick animals?”

[Ronan Dugal]

It was quite obvious to Ronan, right from the start, that something had changed. The people checking his wares seemed more distant now and some even glared at him, almost hateful. He wondered what had happened that had changed them so much and hoped it wouldn't impact his trading too much. Shrugging to himself, Ronan focused back on the customers, returning their glares with a smile. He felt like a sudden cold wall had been set up between him and his customers. Before going out, things had been good and people were smiling, now, not so much. In the past, Ronan had had customers who demanded ridiculous prices. And thieves trying to steal from him. And people insisting on knowing better. And even had a few run ins with the knights who demanded goods for free or simply took what they wanted without asking. All part of the deal, they always said. And what could you do? Go to the knights to get another knight arrested? Sure, that'll land you in jail faster than you can say 'guilty'. It seemed like Avanthal was not devoid of these types of stupid people either, sadly. "Excuse me? Ten what?" Ronan smiled at the Frostfawn in front of him. "And no, I don't kick animals by habit. I only kick creatures that try to steal from me or try to damage my goods. Just protecting what is mine." Ronan lifted his hands up, a small shrugging motion towards the customer in front of him, his palms pointing in an upward angle towards the customer. Ten Golden Mizas for the dog? What an idiot. "I should probably explain a little on the price of the dog. I bought him for 60, in Syliras, as an untrained puppy. It took me the better of two years to train him as a proper and loyal dog. I trained him to be a guard and to be a companion. Look at him now. Listens to every command I give him and he loves me. I think 95 Golden Mizas is not too expensive for such a creature." Ronan smiled his trader smile. Lies, lies and some more lies. Ronan seemed to sense that something he had done had ticked off the Frostfawns he was trying to sell to. He thought about it, trying to figure it out. But he couldn't grasp it. His lack of information on the Frostfawns, knowing nothing of them besides their love for animals and their other trades and a little of their history, Ronan couldn't put his finger on the problem. Perhaps it had been the show he had given at the start and people had raised their expectations of his goods, which left them grumpy and unsatisfied? Perhaps that was it. But that would be a strange way of showing it. It wasn't like Mizahar had an overabundance of rare pelts and leathers now, was it? With no real way of finding out, Ronan did the next best thing. Interrogate a local. "Excuse me. As you might have guessed, I'm new in town, so I'm not aware of the local customs and traditions. Did I somehow... do something that offended you or your hold?" Ronan asked the Frostfawn that had approached him about the dog.

[Nikomas]

Nikomas had witnessed the scene unfold from a bit of a distance, as he arrived at the Hold's central gathering hall, so he didn't truly know all of the details just yet, but there was one thing he was most certain of, regardless of being well-informed or not... "Threatening an animal in these parts, my foreign friend, when you are not truly in danger, well, it's akin to me taking a spiked club to your great-grandmother as she lovingly knits you a new pair of socks. It's just wrong and, I sure hope, it would not sit well with you," the young Vantha informed the merchant as he approached just in time to hear him questioning the swiftly dwindling crowd of shoppers. "Oh, hey, Garran, you're not seriously going to buy something from this guy, are you?" he added as he recognized one of the individuals perusing the man's odd assortment of wares. "I mean, sure, these leathers are of a good quality," he admitted as he ran a hand across them, "but, still, this man has no business being here. He doesn't know the first thing about our people, so we should repay him in kind by not taking the time to know him...or his wares." Nikomas began to move along now, tugging on Garran's sleeve as he went and nodding toward a merchant who was setting up shop just a few feet away. "Come on. I saw a handsome pair of boots on my way over here. I want your opinion on them. I'm thinking of asking Laria if I can make a few pairs for the shop. I think they may be a good sample for what I have in mind...with a few embellishments of my own, of course," he was quick to add, with a lopsided grin, as he put some distance between himself and the seemingly clueless stranger.

[Garran Frostfawn]

And there was the gist of it, Garran thought, listening to the merchant’s reply to his offer. The dog was “merchandise.” The man spoke of the creature’s love for him, but Garran was convinced that bond was not a two way street – not as it was with the animals here in the Hold. The Syliran was willing to sell this good and loyal friend right away, to whoever offered up the right amount of coin. Hardly fair repayment for two years of devotion, Garran would say. He was sure of it – the dog deserved better than this guy. The man was really so very clueless – and his next admission of that very fact did little to smooth over the aggravation Garran felt, though it should have, really. At least to acknowledge one’s shortcomings was a first step to fixing them. The man wasn’t being arrogant, just ignorant – a product of his own culture just as much as Garran was a product of his. But Garran wasn’t seeing it in that light, not at that moment anyway. The Vantha was just making ready to reply with something sardonic when he heard a familiar voice coming up from behind him. It was one of those ‘speak of the devil’ moments, for he had just before been thinking about Nikomas. He turned his head with a smile already on his face, the merchant forgotten for the moment, and it turned out the younger Vantha had his own answer ready for the Syliran’s question. Garran chuckled outright at the mental imagery Niko’s simile inspired. Not that hitting an old woman with a club was funny – but it was just the way Niko said it all so eloquently (at least in Garran’s eyes) - putting the merchant in his place while at the same time informing him of how the Vantha would take his faux pas. He hadn’t quite stopped to think through the dynamics here, and that though the man had committed a social transgression, it had been in innocence. Still, the act had bespoken a mind set that was very alien to the Frostfawns, and so Garran smirked openly at Niko’s response and turned to his friend, shaking his head in amusement. “That remains to be seen,” he replied, looking first at Niko and then back over his shoulder, at the door that led outside and thus to where the dog in question still stood watch over the merchant’s wagon. Nikomas was handling the leather that was for sale, and Garran watched, considering his opinions about the right or wrong of buying from a foreigner who hadn’t had the courtesy – or perhaps the foresight – to put himself in the know about his potential customer base. Garran shrugged noncommittally, saying only, “You have a point, but my concern was not for the man, but for the dog.” Still, he followed along beside Niko, in response to the leather crafter’s pulling at his sleeve, talking about boots he wanted Garran to look at. Garran cast a look back over his shoulder, and said to the merchant as they departed a short distance away, “I’ll be back,” and then turned his attention back to his friend. “I agree,” he said simply, as they made their way over to the other stall which was still in the process of being set up. “He is ignorant, but…” Garran frowned slightly. “I feel badly for the dog. It’s obvious that wanker thinks no more of a good, loyal animal than he does his damned gold, or a pelt, or a dagger.” Garran shook his head in frustration, but then dropped the matter from his mind, for the moment. He smiled and in truth his smiles were somewhat on the wolfish side. “So, show me these boots. My opinion isn’t worth shyke but I’m always happy to give it.” He patted Niko on the back. “How are things at the shop? Has Laria finally retracted her claws a bit? You wowing her with your amazing skills?” He lifted an eyebrow in a teasing way, as his attention then turned to look over the things this other merchant was setting out.