Merchant Crab

“4498… 4499… 4500.”

Balthazar finished counting the coins in his iron chest behind his sleeping pillow, feeling both satisfaction and concern.

He loved counting his money and seeing its number grow larger and larger every day, but by his estimations, that chest would be full once it reached 5000 gold coins, and that was a problem.

Not only had he not been able to find any adventurers carrying large containers they were willing to sell lately, but even if he had, he wasn’t sure where he’d put it.

He liked to keep his treasure close at night, but there wasn’t much room left in his tent, between the chest, his pillow, and all the many baskets of pastries surrounding it, there just wasn’t anywhere to store large sums of money like that.

Madeleine had told him during one of her recent visits that people in town with lots of money keep their valuables in places called “banks” in exchange for a small fee. That sounded like complete nonsense to the crab.

Paying someone to keep your coins? The whole point of having them was the satisfaction of holding them, counting them, playing with them, hugging a pile of them at night before falling asleep.

And even worse, what if they lose your precious coins? No, smart crabs don’t trust banks.

The problem was not just the coins, either. Adventurers were selling more and more loot every day, and no matter how fast Balthazar tried to offload it to the next adventurer who came around, his stock of junk continued growing, and slowly taking over the pond, crates and shelves being filled faster than poor Druma could put them together.

As he sighed, the bright yellow reflection of his many coins shining on him, Balthazar heard a woman’s voice from across the bridge.

“Excuse me, is this the crab’s trading post?”

“That’s right, this is the spot, and I am the crab,” Balthazar answered, stepping out of his tent.

On the other side stood a middle-aged woman, long black hair with two white strands emerging from the center of her hairline, falling over her black vestments of many layers and folds. Her large blue eyes shot at the crab as he appeared, and a wide smile appeared on her face.

Balthazar felt slightly uncomfortable.

[Level 42 Alchemist Witch]

“Oh, excellent, excellent!” the woman said, clasping her hands together in front of her chest. “Just who I was looking for.”

“Can I help you?” Balthazar asked as he joined her on the other shore.

“Such a magnificent specimen, you are!” The strange woman began walking around the crab, looking him over, hands still held against her chest. “And the stories were true. You really do talk!”

“Yes, I do, and I’d appreciate it if you stopped checking my behind now, please.”

“May I ask how that happened? Was it some kind of spell? Enchantment? Perhaps a curse gone wrong?” The witch gasped. “Don’t tell me you’re actually a prince and if I give you a kiss, you will turn back into a human?”

“What?! No, why would that ever… Look, I don’t know what kind of weird stories your head is filled with, but I’m here to do business, so if you’re not here for that…”

“Oh, come now,” she interjected, “is that a way to treat a lady?”

“I wouldn’t know, but seems to me like the way to treat witches who aren’t here to sell or buy anything.”

“I am an alchemist,” the woman said, her smile quickly vanishing from her face for a moment. “And you are wrong in your assumption. I am here to do business.”

“Great. Then what are you here to sell or buy?”

“I’m looking for rare alchemy ingredients,” she responded, a smile already back on her face.

“Sure thing,” Balthazar said, moving to a shelf filled with multiple clay pots and glass jars. “I got plenty of flowers, mushrooms, plant leaves, and much more. What’s it going to be?”

“The ingredients I seek are rather… difficult to find.” She pulled a folded piece of parchment from her sleeve, opened it, and started reading it. “Do you by any chance have… troll’s blood?”

“Uh… no, I don’t,” the crab said, hesitantly.

“A werewolf liver?”

“Wha—no!”

“Spider broodmother glands?”

“Why would I… what the hell kind of poison are you planning to make?”

“Oh, no, no. No poison at all. Just some ingredients for some homemade recipes, nothing nefarious, I promise you.”

“Either way, I don’t have any of those things, and I’m not sure I’d want to, anyway.”

“Such a shame, really. But say, on a different subject,” the witch said, moving around the crab again, trailing a black fingernail on the surface of his shell, “this is a beautiful pond. I’m sure it looks incredible at night, if you were interested in giving me a tour of it later.”

“Look, lady…”

“Please, let’s not stand on ceremony,” she said, an intense smile on her face. “My name is Velvet, but feel free to call me Velvie.”

“I will not, but thanks,” Balthazar said, increasingly uncomfortable, while sidestepping away from the witch. “If there’s nothing else you're looking to buy, I really got lots to do.”

“There is one more ingredient I am looking for,” Velvet said, taking another step closer to the nervous merchant.

“If it’s not a common petal or some random fungus, I probably can’t help you.”

“It’s something I know for a fact you have. And being such a fine gentleman, you wouldn’t leave a lady hanging, I’m sure? I’d be willing to pay almost anything to have it.”

“Err… and what would that be?” Balthazar apprehensively asked.

“Nothing much, just one, maybe two giant crab legs,” the witch casually said, batting her eyes at Balthazar.

“You… you want what now?!” the bewildered crustacean exclaimed.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“A crab leg, that’s all.”

“You want one of my legs? Lady, are you out of your mind?!”

“Oh, come now, dear, it’s just a leg. You got seven more. You could easily be a sweetheart and spare one for a girl in need.”

“No! They’re my legs. I’m very attached to them!”

“That’s not a problem. We can take care of that without you even feeling a thing.”

“You’re nuts, get away from me and out of my pond, witch!” Balthazar said loudly, nearly shouting.

“I really, really need the contents of it,” the desperate alchemist pleaded, putting a hand on one of his pincers and looking straight into his eyes. “I’m sure we can reach some sort of agreement.”

“Are we interrupting?” a man’s voice said from the road entrance.

The crab and the woman turned to see a pair of figures standing by the pond’s entrance. One had a bow on his back, a large basket in his arms, and a slightly embarrassed expression on his face, while the other carried a basket in each hand and looked at them with one eyebrow raised and an air of suspicion.

“Not at all!” Balthazar quickly said, moving away from the black clad woman. “Madeleine, Rye, please, come in. This madame witch was just leaving!”

The expressions on the archer and the baker changed, becoming visibly apprehensive. Rye put his basket down slowly and rested his hand on his waist to give him quick access to drawing his bow. Madeleine spoke first. “Witch, you said? Your client’s not causing any trouble, is she, Balthazar?”

“As I explained before, I’m an alchemist,” Velvet said, no longer smiling, while sizing up the two arrivals. “And I take it you two are his clients as well, yes? Well, I’m not done yet, so if you don’t mind waiting your turn…”

A frown formed on Madeleine’s face and she opened her mouth to speak, but Balthazar interjected before she could get a word out. “Ha ha, no, no, they’re not clients, they’re here for… a delivery. Yes, that’s it, a delivery. So now, if you don’t mind, I really have things to take care of.”

“My, that is so impolite of you,” the woman said, not moving a step. “Not to mention unprofessional. I thought you were a merchant? We’re not done haggling yet, are we?”

“Yes, we are! I already told you I’m not selling what you’re after.”

“Balthazar, what is going on here?” Madeleine asked. “What does this woman want?”

“She—”

“Oh, now, now,” Velvet said, interrupting Balthazar as she turned to the baker. “The adults are talking. You shouldn’t stick your nose in, little miss.” She gave a sly smile. “But if you want to know so badly, Balthie and I were discussing the price of… parts of his body.”

“Balthie??” the crab repeated, befuddled.

“The price of… what the hell?” the baker exclaimed, her face turning red. “What kind of dealings are you making now, Balthazar?”

“Me? None! This crazy woman came in here and started trying to buy one of my legs!”

“Oh, darling,” the witch said in a dramatic tone as she bent a knee and grasped the crab’s left pincer. “I would take all of you, but if I cannot, even just a leg would satisfy my heart’s desire.”

Balthazar stared, perplexed, at the woman, and then at Rye and Madeleine. He was lost for words and actions. His face would be turning red at that moment if he had the skin for it.

“Mate, are you sure you’re alright?” Rye said, a concerned smile on his face. “Did she cast some kind of spell on you, or something?”

“Oh!” Velvet exclaimed. “I am the one who has been put under a spell. From the moment I laid eyes on you, Balthie, I knew I had found the one.” She placed the back of her hand against her forehead in an exaggerated pose.

“Guys,” Balthazar pleaded. “Come on, you don’t seriously think I have anything to do with this… this witch, right?!”

“I don’t know,” Madeleine said, her face an even brighter red now. “Maybe she offered you some nice sweets? That would probably sway you, wouldn’t it? Maybe we should take these back to town, if you’re already set here?”

“Ah, you must be a baker, are you not?” Velvet asked, eyeing Madeleine’s white blouse and skirt.

“So what if I am?” the girl responded, defiant.

“That’s adorable,” the witch said with a wide smile, before turning back to Balthazar and placing her piercing blue eyes close to his. “I could prepare you concoctions sweeter than anything you’ve ever tasted, my dear. If you’d just be a little more… friendly with me.”

“Wha… No!” Balthazar said, loudly, as he stepped away from her, trying to snap himself out of his befuddlement. “You should leave. I want to trade nothing with you, and I definitely do not want to be your friend!”

A large piece of rock with eyes appeared above a shelf and smiled at the group. “Friend?”

Velvet looked up at the golem towering above her from behind the shelf, and then at the pair by the entrance, one with a hand on his bow, and the other with her hands on her hips, her face looking ready to fume. A goblin wearing a wizard hat joined them from across the bridge too, attracted by the noise and commotion.

“Well,” the witch said, her smile no longer as smug, “I can see there’s no swaying you at the moment, and that your… friends aren’t going to let us conduct business. So maybe I will get going.”

“That would—” Balthazar started saying, before a very loud baker interrupted him.

“Yes, that would be best. Good day to you. The road is over there. Be on your way.”

The witch in black began calmly walking to the exit, taking a moment to turn her head back to the crab.

“We’ll catch up on our business some other time, darling.” She winked at him before walking away, her dark vestments waving behind her.

“That was… weird.” Rye said, taking his hand away from his bow.

“You’re telling me?!” Balthazar said, feeling as though he had been holding his breath that whole time and only now could finally exhale. “I don’t know where that one came from, but she gave me the weirdest feelings in… Rye?”

The archer was looking over the crab’s shell with a scared expression. As Balthazar turned, he encountered the baker who was leaning down towards him, wrists against her sides, her freckled cheeks a bright crimson, green eyes shooting daggers at him.

“Would you like to tell us what was that all about?”

The crab gulped, unsure why he was so intimidated by a small baker, but still sure he didn’t want to find out either.

“I—I—I’m not sure,” Balthazar stuttered. “She first came here wanting some weird alchemy ingredients, and then she says she needs one of my legs for something she wanted to make. It was all very weird. I’m just glad you two showed up.”

“Yeah, ha ha, right, good thing we did. Who knows what your new suitor would have done to you otherwise,” Rye nervously said, attempting to lighten the mood. Unsuccessfully.

“Yes, Balthazar,” Madeleine said, tapping her foot on the ground rapidly, “what would have happened if we didn’t show up? Would you have let the witch do her weird stuff to you? You seemed very flustered in her presence!”

“Of course not! And… I’m not exactly used to some of your strange human behaviors! I just don’t know how to act around them! There, you happy now?”

Madeleine pulled back and exhaled, losing some of her ire. “I was just concerned about you. I know about witches. They are evil and tricky, and you… well, you’re a grumpy crab, but you’re our grumpy crab. I don't want anything bad to happen to you.”

Balthazar stared at her for a moment, confused. “So, wait… you were worried about me? And because of that… you also get mad at me? What the hell kind of sense does that make?!”

“I don’t know!” Madeleine exclaimed, throwing her arms up. “That’s just what people do sometimes!”

“You humans are an irrational bunch,” Balthazar said, shaking his shell.

“Yeah, well, maybe so,” the archer started saying, with a sheepish smile, “but at least we can make great pastries, right?”

The crab and the girl continued looking away from each other, both with their arms crossed.

“Oh, come on, you guys!” Rye said. “That was a witch. Their class’s whole thing is being tricky, manipulative, and sowing discord. You two are friends. Are you really going to let her have the last laugh by staying upset at each other?”

Madeleine sighed. “Rye is right. I rarely get this upset at things, but… I really lose it when it comes to the ones I care about being in trouble. I’m sorry I got mad at you, Balthazar.”

Balthazar looked at her from the corner of his eyes, without uncrossing his arms. “Fine, I accept your apology.”

Rye gave him a look of disapproval and nudged the crab’s shell lightly.

“And fine, I… I apologize too, for anything.”

The archer groaned and rolled his eyes.

“It’s alright,” Madeleine said. “I’m sure that took a lot of effort from you, so I’ll take it. Just please, promise me if you ever see that witch again, you’ll run the other way, with all your eight legs!”

“Don’t need to tell me,” Balthazar responded, finally relaxing, “I don’t want to go through that kind of discomfort ever again.”

“Hey now,” Rye started, with a smirk, “maybe a witch would be the perfect match for your grumpiness, eh?”

They both looked at the smiling adventurer with the same sour expression.

Druma, who had been sitting on the ground under the golem's shadow with his legs crossed and quietly observing since joining them, finally broke the silence.

“Druma hungry. Can eat now?”

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