Merchant Crab

“Boss, boss!” Druma shouted. “Food!”

Putting his book down and standing up from his purple cushion, Balthazar hurriedly stepped out of his tent, eager to greet his favorite—and only—baker.

But as he crossed the bridge, he realized Madeleine was nowhere to be seen. Instead, the only one who stood by the entrance of the trading post was Rye, the archer boy, handing a basket to the goblin, who happily scampered away with it.

“Good morning, Balthazar!” the young adventurer greeted.

“Hello…” the crab reluctantly responded. “Where’s Madeleine?”

“She sends her apologies, but she couldn’t make it down here today,” said Rye, with a slightly bothered expression.

“Why not? Something happened to her?” Balthazar hurriedly asked. “I better not find out this has something to do with you, boy!”

“Hey now, wow! Easy! I did nothing!” the other quickly pleaded. “I’m actually kind of worried about it myself. She has been taking on a lot of extra orders lately, that’s why she couldn’t afford to come here today. She’s busy baking.”

“Sounds like business is good. Why is that a reason for concern?”

“Because she’s clearly overworking herself. Apparently, the rent she pays for her stall space at the market has gone up, and she’s having trouble keeping up with the price, so now she’s doing more work to compensate.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Balthazar exclaimed. “Why hasn’t she said anything sooner? She barely even lets me pay for all the food she bakes for us! And what about you? You fancy the girl, but you won’t even offer to help her? What’s wrong with you?”

“You think I didn’t try?!” the archer said, opening both arms in frustration. “But you know that baker. She’s as sweet as she is also stubborn for some things. She said her mother didn’t raise her to depend on no knight in shining armor to sustain her.”

“What’s the problem, then?” Balthazar asked, genuinely confused. “You’re an archer, not a knight. And I’ve never even seen you wearing any metal armor!”

“That’s… that’s not really the point,” Rye awkwardly said, rubbing his forehead with his fingertips. “The point is, she won’t just let someone solve her problems for her. And I will not try to give that one any orders. In fact, she’s the one who’s ordering me around. Here’s your delivery, sir.”

The boy picked up another wicker basket from the ground and presented it to the crab. “I believe she said today’s specials were strawberry jam scones and custard pie.”

“Smells great,” the crab said, trying to contain his salivation. “But say, do you have a few moments to talk?”

“Sure. I’m not doing anything urgent. What’s up?”

The two moved next to a low table, where Rye placed the basket before sitting on a wooden bench.

“I can tell you’ve been, uh… improving,” said Balthazar, examining the archer through his monocle and seeing he was now level 12. “You’ve been growing stronger during your adventures.”

“Thank you,” the young adventurer said with a proud smile. “I’ve been spending a lot more time in town lately, but I still try to keep up and get out there when I can.”

“Sure, sure,” Balthazar responded, while nodding in agreement. “It’s important to keep reaching new levels

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of experience, am I right?”

The crab stood still for a moment, staring at the young man, who awkwardly stared back with a confused frown.

“You, uh… you alright there, Balthazar?”

“Yes, sure. No, never mind that. I was just… thinking.”

“Alright, if you say so.”

“Say, Rye, I was wondering the other day,” Balthazar started, trying to sound nonchalant, “where exactly are you from?”

“Oh, that’s curious,” Rye said, raising both eyebrows. “Nobody usually asks me that.”

“Really? And that’s not odd to you? As far as I understand, you humans are all pretty nosy about each other’s lives.”

“Hmm, I don’t know. Not really? I just figured that’s the custom in these parts.”

“So you’re not from around here?” the crab insisted, growing more curious.

“Uh, no, not exactly,” the increasingly uncomfortable adventurer responded. “I’m from very far away, a whole different place from this.”

“Like what? A different world?” Balthazar inquired, determined to get a reaction out of the young man.

“How did you know that?” Rye apprehensively asked.

“I’m a very resourceful merchant. I got my… sources. Don’t worry, I’m just trying to learn more about my baker’s suitor.”

“Well, alright,” the other conceded, relaxing slightly. “Yes, I was from another world, very different from this one. Then one day woke up here, found out there were many others like me, ‘adventurers’ too, and have been just going along with it, trying to make it out here.”

“And you all got some strange text in your eyes that tells you about levels and stats, don’t you?”

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“Y-yes… how do you know about that? I was under the impression no one from this world would know or understand any of that. That it was something for just us adventurers.”

“Ah, you know how it is. You spend all day dealing with your kind, and you end up picking up a thing or two. Any idea why you all get those special things? What’s the purpose?”

“Not really.” Rye shrugged. “We’re basically given the choice to come here, start over, given the task of improving and gaining levels, but beyond that, we’re kind of left in the dark. Many think there’s some kind of reward, riches, power, maybe even divinity at the end of it all. But I don’t really know about any of that.”

“Who gave you that choice anyway?” the very intrigued crab asked. “How did you end up in this world in the first place?”

“I’m not really sure,” a hesitant Rye said. “I don’t think anyone really knows who that voice was, just that the alternative wasn’t good. I… I don’t remember well what happened before. It’s all a bit hazy, and feels like a lifetime ago. I was in my world. Then something happened. Something not good. And then… here I was, on a beach, with a scroll.”

The adventurer rubbed his temple with his fingers, like someone straining to think. “Sorry, it’s always really hard trying to remember anything from before, for some reason.”

“I got more questions. You said something about a—“

“I’m sorry, Balthazar, what were we talking about exactly?” Rye said, straining his eyes with discomfort. “Either way, I really need to get going now. I’ve always heard it was better for everyone if we don’t talk about any of this stuff with the locals, so maybe let’s leave it at that. I’ll catch you later.”

“I just—” Balthazar started, but the archer was already up and halfway to the exit.

The golden crab stood alone on his trading post, thoughts ricocheting around in his shell.

Someone was definitely behind the arrival of all those adventurers into that world, and they didn’t seem too keen on anyone knowing how or why. Prodding Rye for information did not seem to have gone well, who could say what would happen with other, less receptive adventurers? Everyone else who was originally from that world, like himself or Madeleine, would know even less, apparently by design, so there wasn’t much point in risking that subject, especially given the warning from the enchantress about the consequences of asking too many inconvenient questions.

But what did any of this have to do with a humble crab who just wanted to live a quiet life at his pond?

Balthazar did not know the answers to any of that, but at least he found comfort in knowing he had scones.

***

Holding a slice of custard pie in his silver pincer, Balthazar rejoiced at its flavor from behind a large crate. The day had been busy with adventurers going back and forth, not giving him a break to enjoy a snack.

“Oh, sweet Madeleine, you did it again,” he said, eyes closed into a dreamlike state. “Simply delicious.”

“Anybody home?” a young voice said.

Balthazar rolled his eyes open, and his smile turned into a frown. Just one moment of solitude was apparently too much to ask.

“Yes, here I am,” the crab said after quickly swallowing and tossing the rest of his slice into the hidden basket behind the crate. He was willing to sell almost anything standing on that platform, except for the contents of that basket.

“Hey there, Balthazar!” a young adventurer greeted, with a smile and a wave.

“Oh, hey there…” The merchant hesitated. He was sure he knew the boy standing in front of him wearing average armor, with a generic face, common brown eyes, and a typical haircut. He just couldn’t recall where from. Being a level 6 wasn’t exactly a distinctive detail either.

“It’s Cletus,” the client said, readjusting the huge sack he was carrying over his shoulder. “Remember me? I’ve been here to trade with you probably a dozen times by now.”

“Oh, right, right, of course! Come in, come in,” Balthazar hurriedly said, both of them stepping closer to each other. “Of course I remember you. You’re the one who sold me that nice ingot of silver that one time.”

The crab still had no recollection of ever asking for his name, despite being confident the kid had probably told it to him before. Unfortunately, Balthazar tended to not get too attached to his clients, on account of them having the bad habit of dying all the time.

“Yes, I did,” Cletus responded with a proud smile, letting the heavy sack drop from his shoulder and onto the ground. “I still remember the day I got that. One of my first bandit ambushes. There were four of them.”

“Alright, kid, no need to reminisce, we remember,” Balthazar said, despite not remembering the story in the slightest. “Let’s talk about today instead, shall we?”

“Oh, sure,” the other said, perking up. “I came across a whole bandit hideout. The place was crawling with them!”

“Eh, you sure bump into a lot of bandits in your travels, don’t you? Are you sure that’s not intentional?”

“I had to take out the lookouts on the watchtowers with my bow first,” the boy continued, apparently not hearing a word of what the crab said. “Then I made it inside the outer walls and dispatched another four, at least. But once I made it inside the building, damn, I went through at least a dozen more. It was rough! I had to slowly sneak my way through, taking them all down one by one. By the end, I took out at least sixteen!”

“Very impressive, son,” Balthazar said, making little effort to hide his boredom. “I’m sure so many bandits mean a whole lot of loot. You got anything good for me?”

“Oh yes,” Cletus responded with growing excitement. “There was so much gear I couldn’t really carry it all, so most of it I had to leave on them.”

The adventurer untied the large sack and let it unfold, revealing its contents. A pile of assorted shoes, boots, sandals, and other footwear crumbled in front of them. “I’m open to selling them all to you. I don’t have time to go up to Ardville.”

Balthazar stared at the pile of shoes in front of him, slack-jawed, slowly counting them.

“Kid… there are sixteen pairs of shoes here. Did you only loot their shoes? Nothing else?!”

“Err… yes?” Cletus answered sheepishly.

“Just… why?” the incredulous crab asked. “I’m sure there was lots of other loot around the place, and even on the bandits themselves. Hell, there would have probably been lighter parts of their gear you could have taken that would be worth more than their damn boots!”

“Uh… Yes, I guess you’re right,” the young man said, glancing to the side while grasping his elbow. “But, I don’t know, I guess I just… took their shoes instead.”

Balthazar's face scrunched up.

“You didn’t take a single necklace, or even ring, but somehow you found the time to strip each and every one of those bandits of their shoes? You do realize that’s very weird, right?”

“I… can I just please get some money for those and go?”

The crab stared at the boy for a moment, unsure if he wanted to think any further on the subject.

“64 gold for the lot,” Balthazar finally said, deciding it was probably for the best to not delve any deeper into it. “I will not haggle, just take it, kid.”

“Yes, that’s fine. I’ll take that, please. Thank you,” Cletus quickly said, still avoiding eye contact.

The merchant grabbed his new money bag that was tightly tied to the side of his shell and retrieved the money to pay the embarrassed boy.

With two quick and clumsy bows of his head, the adventurer rapidly made his way back out, avoiding the crab’s gaze the entire time.

“Not sure if I even want to know what kind of strange world are all these weirdos coming from,” he said, shaking his shell as he walked back and forth, throwing the shoes into a sorting crate one by one.

As Balthazar picked up a shoe and a sandal, a quiet cough came from the road entrance.

A short man in a long green gown stepped into the trading post, two guards in tow.

“Yes? Looking for something?” the merchant asked.

“Yes, I am looking for Mr. Balthazar,” the man said in a slow and monotone voice. “Please let him know the local tax inspector would like to speak to him.”

Balthazar’s eyes went wide, as his right claw snapped the sandal in two, and the other shoe dropped.