Merchant Crab

The crab sighed as he finished counting up the last of his golden coins.

“They’re all here,” Balthazar whispered. “All 5888 of them.”

Despite his riches, he still felt troubled. Throwing the last coin pouch next to his chest, the concerned merchant rubbed his chin with a pointy pincer. The money no longer fit inside the reinforced chest, so it began piling up in small pouches next to it.

“Between thieves in bushes, thieves in trios, and thieves with feathers, how is a crab supposed to sleep in peace knowing his life savings are just ripe for the taking?”

Grabbing a small oil lantern from the tent’s floor, Balthazar stepped outside, the cool and misty air of the night hitting him as he looked up at the moon.

He could not recall ever being unable to sleep before the day he found that strange scroll, and yet now, concerns not fit for a crab kept him up at night.

Glancing back at the spot under the coin chest, where the hole containing his belongings was hidden, he wondered if the mysterious piece of parchment was more of a curse than a blessing, given all the chaotic changes that turned his life upside down in less than a couple of months.

For a moment, the crab did some self-reflection.

And then he grabbed a piece of apple pie from a basket and pushed all that aside. Obviously, it had been a benefit, and there was no need to think further about it.

Circling to the back of the tent, Balthazar sat next to Bouldy, who was quietly observing the fireflies that danced lazily over the pond’s water. The giant rock turned his head to his friend, the same smile as ever.

“Hey, big guy,” Balthazar greeted in a low voice. “Enjoying the sights, eh?”

“Friend,” the golem said, his smile widening and his eyes closing.

“Yep, sure is nice, even at night. Wish I could do like you. Just skip on sleeping without a care in the world.”

“Friend?” Bouldy asked, smile dying down slightly as he tilted his head.

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just worries and lots of questions going on in here.” Balthazar tapped the top of his golden shell with a claw. “Nothing you would get, sadly.”

“Friend…” his companion gently insisted, a concerned rocky frown forming above his orb eyes.

“It’s not like I’m a little crab anymore,” Balthazar said, as he stared down at the lantern’s flame. “Talking about my troubles with a rock feels pretty silly now.”

The living boulder slumped down and gently gave a comforting pat on the crab’s carapace, who looked up at him.

“Ah, I guess that came out a bit harsh. I’m… sorry. You’re not just a rock now. And the fact is, you were always there for me. Not that you really had a choice, on account of being an immobile boulder back then and all, but you know… it’s the thought that counts. Not sure you could think before either, but yeah… The point I’m trying to make is that you’re… you’re a good friend, Bouldy.”

“Friend,” the golem repeated, a broad smile returning to his face.

“Yes, yes, I get it. Just don’t let it get—“

Balthazar cut himself short at the sight of a dim light moving in the distance, across the pond and all the way out on the road past the exit to his trading post.

“What in the world?” the crab muttered as he stood up.

Gesturing for Bouldy to follow him, Balthazar picked up his lantern, placed what remained of his slice of pie on a low table in front of the tent, and glanced over to Druma, who was fast asleep on the hay. The goblin was the heaviest of sleepers, and there was no waking him up when he was in such a deep slumber. Figuring it would be best to leave him be for now, the crab headed across the bridge, eyes fixed on the light that swung around in the darkness.

“Stay close and try not to be too noisy, Bouldy.”

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As Balthazar approached the exit to the road, tip-toeing golem in tow, he noticed a strange rattling coming from the light. Fearing the threat of more thieves, he cautiously raised his own light to illuminate the road.

The source of the faint light on the road was an iron lantern, filled with what seemed to be fireflies, barely bright enough to light the area directly around it.

The lantern was swinging from the tip of a tall wooden stick, held upright by a figure facing away from them, wrapped in a ragged cloak, a huge, bulky pack on its back, and frantically looking for something on the side of the road. Every movement produced an unnerving rattling noise.

“Who goes there?” said the crab, attempting to sound unafraid.

The cloaked figure turned suddenly, a bony face appearing under the light, two dark and empty eye sockets staring at Balthazar.

“AHHH!” Balthazar screamed as he stumbled back. “A walking skeleton!”

The skeleton recoiled and screamed in a fright as well, walking cane held in front of him. “A talking crab!”

“Don’t let him touch me!” the spooked merchant yelled at the golem.

Bouldy tilted his head, looking down at the two figures, unsure of what to do.

“Hey, woah, hang on!” the skeleton pleaded, looking up at the towering figure behind the crab. “I’m the one who doesn’t want either of you touching me! Shoo, go away, crabby!”

“What?” Balthazar said. “Wait, you’re… sentient?”

“Bah, 'course I am!” the other responded. “But you’re a crab. What in blazes is a crab doing talking? And leading a golem around in the middle of nowhere at night?!”

“What do you mean? You’re right in front of my territory. My trading post is right there!” the exasperated crab said, pointing his lantern at the path leading down to the pond.

“Ah, fiddlesticks!” said the skeleton. “I got lost again, didn’t I? Wait, did you say trading post? There’s a trader around these parts?”

“Of course there is. It’s me!”

“I’m a trader too!” He pointed a bony fingertip at his own smiling skull.

“A merchant skeleton?” an incredulous Balthazar asked. “You can’t be serious?”

“That’s rich, coming from a talking crab who also fancies himself a merchant!”

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Balthazar opened his mouth to rebut, but hesitated for a moment. “Right, you got a point there. Fair enough. But I thought skeletons were all supposed to be these spooky and mindless shambling undead trying to kill anything living.”

“Bah, nonsense!” the talking skull said, with a wave of his hand. “That’s adventurer prejudice. Granted, it probably comes from the fact that most of us do try to kill them on sight, but hey, that’s just business. Speaking of which, if you got a trading post back there, think we could step inside and talk business? I don’t wanna risk being seen out here by some wannabe hero.”

Balthazar pondered for a moment. He was not one to turn down business opportunities, but a skeleton in the middle of the night sounded dodgy, even for him. Then again, the wanderer seemed amicable enough.

He glanced at the figure in front of him through his monocle.

[Level 5 Merchant Skeleton]

Confident that if it came to it, Bouldy would be more than capable of smashing a few low level bones, Balthazar answered. “Yeah, sure. Let’s get out of the road.”

The three of them walked towards the pond, lanterns held forward to light the path.

“So what’s your name, merchant crab?”

“I’m Balthazar. And what’s yours?”

“I’m Tom.”

“Tom? Not exactly what I would expect from a skeleton, but alright.”

“What did you expect? ‘Bones McGee’ or something?”

Arriving at the center of the trading post, Balthazar took some tinder and lit it on fire with the flame from his oil lantern before throwing it into the stone pit, starting a small fire that illuminated the surrounding area.

Taking a better look at the other merchant, Balthazar noticed he wore tattered pants with no shoes, an open jacket full of moth holes that exposed his rib cage, and a wide brimmed black hat. On his back, he carried an oversized pack made of what appeared to be leather, full of patches of different colors and materials. Despite how full and heavy it looked, the skeleton carried it with great ease.

“What are you staring at?” Tom said. “Don’t let my appearance fool you. I got coin. This is just the work attire.”

“Work attire?” the intrigued crab asked.

“I get it. You don’t go out much. I’ll explain,” the skeleton began. “I come from a small dungeon west from here. It’s the Tudor’s Hall Dungeon. You ever heard of it?”

Balthazar shook his head. “Interesting name. Who's Tudor, and why does he have a hall?”

“No idea! Anyway, we’re a modest dungeon, you know, meant for novice adventurers to get their feet wet, get a grasp of combat, get some experience, loot some goodies, all that stuff.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” the crab said. “What do you mean, ‘meant’ for those things? I thought monsters in dungeons attacked invaders because they didn’t want them stepping inside and pillaging the place?”

“Oh, sure, that’s the show we put on for the visiting adventurers, but you know how it is. That’s all part of the business scheme. And really, business is great. You have no idea how many of them manage to fumble even a simple mace swing at a stationary skeleton. Or how many step into a spike trap despite all the obvious lit torches and gaping holes we put in front of them. Most are just hopelessly dense, I tell ya!”

Balthazar chuckled, both curious and amused at the skeleton’s words. “I bet! You should see some of the ones I get over here sometimes. But how does any of that work as a business?”

“Well, ya see, most of those green adventurers go into the dungeon with all their possessions on them, probably because they still haven’t learned to stash things yet. So, when they trip over their own feet and dive into a wall spear, guess who gets to keep all their stuff? That’s right, we do! And then we just have to keep recycling their money and loot as bait for the next ones who come in the next day, looking for riches.”

“Hmm, interesting,” Balthazar said, slowly nodding. “But if you’re a dungeon for novices, surely there’s still plenty who make it out with their loot often, right? And what happens when they’re not incompetent and actually defeat you?”

Tom let out a hearty laugh.

“We’re skeletons! What are they going to do? Kill us? We’re already dead! And you’re right, some of them do make it all the way and take their loot, but that’s why old Tom here goes out at night to collect loot from adventurers who perish out in the wilds. Can’t let all that loot go to waste now, can we?”

“Right, right…” Balthazar agreed.

“Just earlier I took some coins from this kid out on the plains. I don’t know what the hell happened there, but he looked like he had crash landed there straight from the heavens, a crater and everything. But hey, nobody was around, so his loss is my gain!”

“Alright, I think I get it,” the merchant crab said. “What I didn’t get yet is, what business do you want with me?”

“Ah, see, it’s not common to find a fellow non-human merchant out here,” the merchant skeleton started. “And with all the new adventurers popping up lately, it’s getting tougher to keep up with the supply demand. Looking around, I see you got yourself a nice surplus of junk. I was thinking, maybe we could help each other out. Most of the kids who never make it through our dungeon are usually only carrying their starter gold, which is no fortune, but is still a pretty sum, so we always got plenty of it to go around, it’s actual items that are becoming a bit of a problem, and we always need more random junk for them to loot. Chances are lots of it ends up right here, traded to you. What do you say I start buying some of your trash to fill our dungeon back up?”

Balthazar rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Despite the strangeness of the one offering it, the deal sounded exactly like the thing the crab was looking for, especially if it meant getting rid of all the excess garbage he had pilling up everywhere.

“You know what, Tom? I think we could have a mutually productive deal here,” the shiny crab declared with a smile.

“Great!” the skeleton said. “I don’t really got any room left for loose items in my pack anymore tonight, but I’ll be back to these parts next week, and now I know to come here right away, instead of wasting hours looking for scraps on the road.”

“Sure, I guess I’ll just have to stay up until a bit later next week,” Balthazar said. “But if you bring enough coin, we’ll get that dungeon of yours refilled in no time!”

“That’s the objective. I tell ya, crab, you wouldn’t believe some of the things those nutcases take. They’ll take the torches off the walls, the clothes off your back, even crappy helmets like that one over there.” He pointed towards a horned iron helmet on a nearby shelf. “Hell, just a few weeks back a group of them went into a room, looted all the items and then, not satisfied yet, actually hauled the whole damn chest the loot was in with them! And it wasn’t a small chest either, it was a big one, reinforced. Who does that?!”

“Oh, heh, right,” Balthazar said, awkwardly glancing at the tent behind him, on the other side of the bridge.

“Why are you making that face?” Tom inquired. “Wait… don’t tell me this is where they sold it?”

“Hey, look, I don’t ask where the merchandise comes from. If you got a problem, take it up to them. I paid for that chest fair and square!”

“Don’t get me wrong, mate,” the other merchant said, both bony palms facing out in front of his chest, “I don’t blame ya for buying it, but chests like that are actually pretty valuable to us. You know how hard it would be to get a carpenter to make us new ones? I’d be willing to buy it back from you, for a fair price.”

“Well, Tom, as much as I can respect a good business offer, I kind of need that chest for my… treasury. As a matter of fact, I actually need another one already. I’m guessing you’re not in the market to sell one, though, are you?”

“My crab, is that what you need the chest for, storing your money?” the skeleton asked with a smile that was missing a few teeth. “How did you get this far as a merchant without a money bag?”

“I got plenty of coin pouches already,” Balthazar said, picking up a small empty bag from a crate and shaking it in his pincer.

“Nah, I mean a real money bag.” Tom reached back into one of the pockets of his pack. “Like this.”

Balthazar looked at what seemed to be just another regular coin bag, except darker.

[Bag of Holding Money]

[Can hold up to 100,000 gold coins]

“A hundred thousand?!” the incredulous crab exclaimed. “In that small bag? How?!”

“Don’t ask me.” Tom said with a shrug. “Maybe magic, or whatever. I’m a merchant skeleton, not a wizard skeleton. What I know is that with this you could easily carry all your money everywhere with you, without bothersome heavy chests. I’ll trade ya this for that old chest. You know that’s a more than favorable deal for you, but I like ya, and we just really need that chest back home.”

Knowing the skeleton’s words to be true, the crab nodded in agreement.

“You got yourself a deal. You’ll just have to wait while I unload all the money from it, and then the chest is all yours. Although I’m not sure how you plan on taking it with you.”

“Ah, don’t worry, these old bones are much stronger than they look.”

Balthazar spent the next half hour shoveling coins with his pincers into the Bag of Holding Money. No matter how many more he poured into it, the bag continued to not weigh more than if it had just a couple dozen in it. Yet, all he had to do was reach inside with a pincer, and he could feel them all stuffed inside.

Having Bouldy carry the empty chest back to Tom, Balthazar watched as the skeleton dragged the heavy chest behind him with one hand, heading back out to the road, his firefly lantern quickly fading into the night after a mutual agreement to meet again in a week’s time.

“What an odd fellow. But I like him,” Balthazar said, while tossing his new coin bag up and down with his silver pincer, before a realization hit him.

“Ah, crap. This shell doesn’t come with any pockets!”