Merchant Crab

The sun began rising in the sky, while the birds started singing up on the trees. A groggy crab reached one arm out of the sand, feeling his way to a pile of junk next to him until he found an old shoe, and blindly threw it at the source of the singing above him.

“It’s too early. Let me sleep a little longer!” a muffled voice said from under the sand.

The shoe flew up in an almost vertical line, missed the bird perched up on a tree branch by a long distance, and promptly fell straight back down, hitting the top of the crab’s shell.

“Aaaargh! Will you shut up?!” Balthazar said, emerging from the ground with his face covered in wet sand, as he turned to shake an angry claw at the bird who continued singing high up on the tree, ignoring the protests below.

“Now I’m already up,” he said, turning back around to toss the shoe back on the pile. “No point trying to go back to sleep. Not like you’d let me, anyway.”

Walking into the pond, he lowered himself to let the fresh water wake him up and wash away the sand.

Making his way over to one of the smaller puddles that formed on the side, he lazily pinched a small fish out of the water and brought it to his mouth, eating it while looking down at something nobody else could see.

“Ah, if only this was a slice of pie,” Balthazar said with a sigh, as he chewed loudly. “I guess I should see where I’ll spend that level up point from yesterday.”

[Level 4]

[Skill Points: 1]

[Strength: 3] [+]

[Agility: 2] [+]

[Intelligence: 13] [+]

[Skills]

“If it ain’t broken, don’t fix it,” he said, with a slight shrug, and pressed the button next to his Intelligence attribute, which changed from 13 to 14.

Then he moved on to the skills and began pondering. The Speech skill had been a good choice, as he clearly managed to communicate with the necromancer, but he also felt like his speech was not exactly great. Things came out sounding more rude and blunt than he intended, and he felt as if he lacked a certain… finesse.

His Speech was only at C rank, so perhaps it made sense that it was still very basic, and it would require more investment in order to improve. Seeing as his goal required him to butter up adventurers for information, good speaking manners seemed like a must.

Feeling confident with his decision, he pressed the upgrade on his [Speech] skill, raising it to a B rank. Then, looking back at the details of the skill, he noticed the new requirements for the next rank.

[Next Rank Requirements: Level 10, Intelligence 20]

“That’s a steep requirement. Why couldn't this thing let me see those before I took the upgrade? Bah, guess I’ll have to make do with a B-rank Speech skill for now. Just hope it will be enough to get the job done.”

Minimizing his status screen, Balthazar finished his breakfast fish and faced the sunrise, the warmth of it hitting his softest parts with a pleasant feeling.

The annoying bird had stopped its singing and flown off to parts unknown, leaving a pleasant silence around. The only thing left on the tree branches was the piece of undergarments that somehow still hadn’t been blown away during the night.

Heading back over to the pile of items he had gathered the day before, Balthazar gazed at it, slowly scratching his chin with a pincer. Not exactly the best sorting system, nor the most aesthetic one.

Figuring presentation is key, he picked up a horned metal helmet and a shoe-polishing brush he had found in the many random things the adventurer from the previous morning had in his pack, and took them to the entrance of his pond.

He gave the front of the helmet a quick brushing and checked its shine against the sunlight, before trying to prop it up on top of a pile of rocks that adorned the access from the stone path to the front of the pond. But the stubborn piece of headgear kept tilting, either too much to the right, or too much to the left, always looking crooked.

“No one is going to want to trade with a crab who can’t even put effort into his wares, Balthazar,” he mumbled to himself. “Get it right.”

Finally satisfied with the position of the helmet, Balthazar took a step back and eye measured its angle for a moment, before hearing a soft whistle in the distance. Thinking the damnable bird was back, he turned around, polishing brush ready to be flung at it, when he realized the source of the whistling was a young man in white and green clothes walking down the road.

Quickly tossing the brush behind a larger boulder, Balthazar took a step back to observe the approaching figure. “Please don’t be another creep.”

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The young man kept leisurely walking towards the direction all other adventurers had come from the previous day. He carried a large hunting bow across his back, accompanied by a quiver with around a dozen arrows sticking out of it. He wore pieces of leather armor over his regular clothing, protecting parts of his body like arms and thighs, as well as fingerless gloves and tall laced leather boots. His face was fair and jovial, hair a dark blond that was almost brown, tucked behind his ears, and he had a content smile with eyes semi-closed, enjoying the light of the sun hitting his skin as he went.

Peering through his Monocle of Examination, Balthazar saw the label over the boy’s head:

[Level 6 Archer]

The archer part he had already deduced, given the hard to miss bow on his back, but the fact he was level 6 meant he was probably less of a threat than the necromancer from the night before, and even less dangerous than the levitating wizard. Seeing as the archer was seemingly just going to walk by the pond without noticing the big crab standing right there, looking at him through a monocle, Balthazar decided to take the initiative. Clearing his throat, he greeted the distracted traveler.

“Hello there!”

The archer broke out of his sunny trance and looked around, confused, before his eyes landed on the large crab walking towards him.

“Yeah, I’m talking to you, boy.”

“What the hell!”

With a stumble backwards, the young man fell on his own rear end, a shocked expression replacing his smile from before. At least this one didn’t fall on his face. That was some progress.

“Did… did you just speak?”

That was more in line with the reaction Balthazar expected last night.

“Of course I did. This is me talking, right? At least I think it is. I don’t see anyone else around here.”

“You’re… a talking crab?!”

“Sure. That’s what I said? Did I stutter or something? Read. My. Lips.”

“You don’t have lips.”

“Whatever, mouth parts! Are you gonna sit there all day, or do you need some help standing up?”

Regaining some of his composure, the young archer stood up and shook the dust off his trousers with his hands.

“Sorry, you just took me by surprise. You’re the first talking crab I’ve encountered.”

“And probably the only one you will! I’m one of a kind. You can bet that backside you just bruised on that!”

The archer gave him a nervous smile while readjusting the strap of his satchel. These friendliness skills really needed some work.

“Anyway,” the young man said, “what are you doing out here?”

“Me? Why, I live right there,” Balthazar responded, pointing a pincer at the pond behind him.

“Oh, I didn’t know there was a pond here.”

“What about you, young fella?”

“I was just coming down from town, heading to the forest to do some hunting.”

“From town?” the crab asked.

“Yeah, you know, that town over there, up the road.” He turned and pointed towards the end of the road he had arrived from.

Balthazar leaned slightly to look behind him, following the road with his eyes, up a winding path that climbed a small hill, leading into a distant double gate at the center of an imposing fortified wall made of rough stone and wooden parts, the construction stretching out of sight around buildings of many sizes and shapes that hid behind its protection, their roofs peeking over against the light blue sky.

“Huh… I guess I never really noticed that was there.”

“You live right down the road from Ardville and never noticed it?”

Balthazar produced a shrug, or whatever equivalent a crab could produce with its anatomy. “I don’t go out much.”

“Why not?” the young man asked, a smile forming on his face. “There’s so much to see in this world!”

“You mean so much trouble to get yourself into,” the cantankerous crab responded. “This is my territory, and it’s where I like to be. Crabs like me weren’t made to be trekking about like you adventurers do.”

“Mate, you have to expand your horizons,” the archer said, “see the sights, explore what the world out there has to offer. You would find you love it, I’m sure.”

“Yeah, no thanks, I’m very content with my little pond.” Balthazar dismissed his enthusiasm with a wave of his claw. “But I suppose it doesn’t hurt to know what’s around me.”

“Well, if you care to know, to the north you have Ardville, the big town I just mentioned up there,” the adventurer began, “and to the west here you have mostly plains all the way to the seaside. To the east, behind your pond, there’s the big Semla mountain that I’m sure not even you could have missed. And finally, to the south, you have the great Black Forest, leading into the marshes and the badlands.”

Balthazar pondered over what he was being told, realizing just how little he had bothered thinking about the world beyond his little pond until that moment. Was it the scroll that gave him a new perspective on things? Was it because of his new levels of Intelligence? Or was it the slice of pie experience that changed him? He did not know, but his gut told him it was probably the pie.

“Interesting. Thanks for the information,” he said, still reflecting.

“Hey, no problem. I really enjoy exploring this world ever since I arrived, so I’m always glad to share what I know about it. My name’s Rye, by the way. What’s yours?”

The archer extended his hand at the crab in a friendly manner. Nobody had ever asked his name, and it felt slightly odd, for some reason.

“Name’s Balthazar,” he responded. “And let’s maybe not do that, for your own good.”

Opening his eyes from his wide smile, Rye looked down at his own hand and then at Balthazar’s claws. “Oh, yes, maybe you’re right.”

“Say,” Balthazar started, looking up at the young man still smiling at him, “you wouldn’t be interested in trading some goods, would you?”

“Oh, you don’t just talk, you also sell stuff?” Rye said, with a hint of surprise.

“I sure do. Come with me.”

The boy followed the crab across the shallow part of the waters, tip-toeing his way carefully over the rocks to avoid setting foot in the water.

“I’m sure I have something here that will interest you,” Balthazar said, while rummaging through his pile of items. “There we go. What do you think of these?”

Held carefully between his pincers were ten finely crafted arrows made of smooth wood and ending in perfectly finished steel tips.

“My, these are some quality arrows,” the archer said, as he carefully inspected their make. “Where does a crab even acquire something like this?”

“I… have my sources,” he replied, trying to disguise his nervousness.

“I certainly wouldn’t mind having these, but I’m not exactly the richest of customers, you should know.”

“Well, you see, I am looking for one item in particular.” The crab’s eyes began widening. “And if you happened to have one for trade, some of these could be yours.”

“What would that item be?” Rye inquired, his eyebrows rising slightly.

“Have you perhaps, in your travels, ever encountered, or at least heard about the… Slice of Apple Pie?” Balthazar finished with a dramatic flair.

“The… you mean if I’ve ever seen a slice of apple pie?” the young man said, with slight confusion in his tone.

“Yes, yes!”

“I mean, sure, I’ve seen plenty of pies, eaten some too.”

“You jest?!” the crab accused with disbelief.

“No, not at all. I’m pretty sure I’ve even seen some for sale at the market in town yesterday.”

“You know of their source and who creates them?!” Balthazar’s eight legs were outstretched, and he was standing as tall as he could make himself, his monocle almost reaching the young man’s chin.

“You mean a baker? Not exactly, but I’m sure I could find one.”

“Please, you must find them,” the crab pleaded, his face pushing up as close to the archer’s face as possible, “you may have all ten of these arrows if you arrange for them to come and meet me!”

“Alright, alright, I can do that, no problem, but please, calm down. Your breath really stinks of fish.” Rye placed both his hands up in front of his chest, palms out, while taking a step back.

“Fantastic! Here, you may have the arrows. Now find the maker of pies.” Balthazar shoved the arrows into Rye’s quiver and began leading him back to the road.

“Hey, woah, hang on, I was actually heading the other way and—”

“Now, now, a deal’s a deal, so get to it, find the baker!” The crab gave him a gentle tap on the back and turned around, walking away.

“I… fine, I guess I’m heading back into town,” Rye said, accepting his change of plans.

A baker. So that was the name of the maker of those most heavenly creations. Balthazar figured something like “pier” would make more sense, but for some odd reason, that word was already taken for something else. He hadn’t even considered the possibility of finding the pie creator, he was just hoping he could find more slices.

Filled with excitement—and a fair amount of gluttony—Balthazar returned to his wares with renewed enthusiasm. If he was going to purchase more pie, he was certainly going to need much more of their gold currency. Exquisite things don’t come cheap, and that meant he had to start selling junk.

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