Keirei

What good is a merchant who blushes at the mere thought of haggling? For years, Keirei was a silent fixture in the amber-leaved clearing, overshadowed by the loud songs and boisterous bartering of others. Their attempts to sell the crisp apples from their stick often ended in flustered silence, their words getting lost somewhere between their heart and their uneasy mouth. Most dismissed them as too timid for trade. Then, a small, resilient plant began to grow from their head, a seedling they'd nurtured from the wilder part of the woods. Locals called it a lucky charm. At the next harvest festival, Keirei simply stood by their stall, letting the plant’s pleasant aroma do the talking. It worked. One taste of their apple was enough. They never became a great orator, but they became a great merchant, proving that the sweetest deals are sometimes made without saying a word.