Merchant Crab

The sun was almost halfway to its highest point in the sky, and Balthazar had been busy propping up his goods around the pond. This crab always knew he had a knack for decoration, but he had impressed even himself today. Putting his pincers on whatever equivalent of hips a crab might have, he looked around with pride.

Two pieces of chest armor were leaning against a large boulder on the way to the shore, with two matching helmets sitting above them on the surface of the rock. Neatly lined up around a bush was a small collection of different types of shoes, each carefully stylized in their pose. Over by a fallen and hollow tree trunk that rested between the road and the water, Balthazar had displayed a select lineup of bottles in size order, from bright red potions to dense looking wines, all sitting on top of the trunk as if it were a shelf. On a clearing near the stone path, he had laid out a rug similar to the ones he sold to the necromancer, carefully displaying some of the smaller trinkets over it, such as necklaces, some crude rings, and random cutlery.

“If I could reach it, I’d be patting myself on the back.”

As Balthazar meticulously removed some bits of dirt from the edges of the rug, he heard approaching voices.

“Clients!” the crab said with excitement.

Correcting his posture and adjusting the lens in front of his left eye, Balthazar turned to face the two men approaching from town.

“Morning, fellas!” he greeted, in his best attempt at being cheerful.

“I’ll be damned. The boy wasn’t lying,” the larger of the two men said, tipping the edge of his helmet up slightly. He wore mostly steel plating over his body, of mismatched variety, much of it with visible signs of wear, and attached to his back he carried a long spear. Even with the added volume of his armor, it was clear he was a robust man, especially his face, which also had a look of not seeing any shaving for a few days. Balthazar looked at him through his monocle.

[Level 12 Spearman]

“You think there’s some kind of important meaning to a talking crab out here?” the other man said to the first. He was smaller in frame, wearing far less weight in terms of his armor, and sporting a large crossbow on his back. He had an oddly long face that reminded Balthazar of a particularly ugly fish he once saw long ago.

[Level 11 Crossbowman]

“Hey, crab, what are you doing out here?” the robust man shouted at Balthazar. “You got any quests needing doing or something?”

“You don’t need to shout,” he responded, no longer attempting to sound cheerful, “I might not make a big show out of it like you people do with your big ugly ears, but I can hear you just fine.”

“Hah! This guy’s funny, I like him already,” the large man barked, followed by some laughter, as he walked closer.

“I don’t really have anything needing doing right now. What I do have are things for sale to adventurers such as yourself, if you’re interested.”

“We just came from town,” said the fish faced man, “there’s plenty of shops there, why would we need to buy anything from you all the way out here?”

“Ah, well, you see,” Balthazar started, attempting to come up with a good response, “I have many unique goods that you will probably not find anywhere else. Like… this helmet right here!”

He directed their attention to the horned metal helmet he had spent so long placing on top of the rocks earlier that day, and that he had just now noticed was crooked again.

“Bahaha, that?” The louder adventurer laughed. “Cheap iron helmets like that are plentiful at any armorer everywhere, lad.”

“This archer boy back in town was telling everyone who’d listen to him how there was this awesome talking crab out here selling items out of his pond, but I’m starting to think you’re kind of a scam, aren’t you?” the other man said, his face really starting to give Balthazar an urge to pinch it.

“First of all, rude,” he said, doing his best to restrain himself. “And second, I take it you two are heading out into the Black Forest, are you not?”

“Yeah, what of it?” said the fish face, with an eyebrow rising.

“It’s a dangerous place, as I’m sure you two know. And I’m sure you also bought plenty of supplies in town for the trip, including…” Balthazar took a glance around at his items. “Poison cure potions, right?”

“Poison cure?” the burly man asked. “Why would we need them?”

“Ah, see, not sure if the people up there in your town are in the know about it,” Balthazar said, with a knowledgeable air, “but this time of the year the forest is crawling with giant venomous spiders.”

The crab had never so much as set foot inside the forest, it was too far away from his pond, but he was certain there would be spiders in there, and they’d surely be big too, so it’s not as if he was making things up. It was just sensible conjecture, and warning them was the right thing to do, obviously.

“Did you bring any poison cures?” the spearman hurriedly asked his partner.

“No, I didn’t know we might need any,” the crossbowman responded.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“They grow huge over there,” Balthazar continued, casually. “Fangs bigger than my claws.”

“Damn it, you know I hate spiders, right?”

“We’re not going back into town now after making it all the way out here,” the slimmer adventurer said.

“You fellas are in luck!” Balthazar interrupted. “For I just so happen to have two bottles of Poison Cure left right here.”

Reaching towards the tree trunk, Balthazar grabbed two small bottles of a dense white liquid.

“Alright, alright, fine. How much?”

Balthazar took a moment to think. He had no idea what to ask for any of those things, and he couldn’t keep relying on telling every adventurer to make an offer. What if they try to low-ball him?

“Twenty gold each,” he finally said, hoping for the best.

“Are you crazy?” the smaller of the two exclaimed. “Those cost ten coins or less back in town.”

“You’re welcome to walk back up there and buy them then,” Balthazar said, maintaining a straight posture.

Maybe they wouldn’t even encounter any spiders on their travels, but the peace of mind of having those potions was certainly worth it. You can’t put a price on being prepared. Or, well, you could, this crab had just done that, but no price is too high to pay for things you might not need later.

“Just pay the crab and let’s go. I’ll split the cost with you,” the other told his travel companion, pulling a coin purse out of his pocket. “And get me one of those wine bottles you got there too. I’m going to need them if we’re going to encounter any spiders.”

***

Morning had passed, and Balthazar had kept busy satisfying the curiosity of the many adventurers who came down from town, investigating the rumor of a talking crab trading items out of his roadside pond. And also making them buy something whenever possible, because he was there to make business, not be a sideshow attraction.

And then there were also those who were heading back to town from their adventures, like the lady Balthazar was trying to haggle with at that moment.

“All I’m saying is,” the woman said, “what reason do I have to even trust you, crab? You’re not a real merchant like the ones in town. How do I know this isn’t a scam, or that I’m not falling for a trap, huh?”

The woman wore a simple brown dress and had messy gray hair, both in dire need of a wash. She carried a huge burlap sack on her back, and two slightly smaller ones in each of her hands, which she seemed reluctant to put down, despite how full they were and her clear struggle to carry them.

“I’m here and I got coin. How much more legitimate do you need me to be? My offer is more than fair. You should take it.”

Balthazar’s patience was running low. As much as he liked his shiny new gold coins, he was quickly realizing that soon enough he would run out of things to sell, and counting on dead adventurers filled with loot to fall from the sky around his pond would not be a reliable source of merchandise, despite the previous day’s examples.

He was going to have to invest, even if that meant buying some new junk from those passing fools. So long as he could turn it around for a profit, he would still come out on top. Give one coin with one pincer, take two with the other. It’s what he called crab economics.

“Why shouldn’t I just go into town and sell all my stuff there, like everybody else does?”

“Look,” the crab began, “of course you could do that, and they might even pay you a few more gold coins than I do. But think about it, how much is your comfort and well-being worth?”

“Are you threatening me?!”

“No! No, of course not. That’s not what I meant. But just think about it.” Balthazar moved next to the woman and turned to the uphill road. “Look at that road, at that treacherous path, all those holes and loose stones, the incline. And then look at how much weight you are carrying. It’s downright unfair that they expect hard working adventurers to make the trek up there with all your goods. And for what, a few measly extra coins? Meanwhile, here I am at the bottom of the hill, happy to provide a public service, make everybody’s life easier, and then I get accused of not being a legitimate trader? All because of what, me being a crab, is that it?”

“Oh, no, that’s not what I meant,” the embarrassed lady quickly said. “I have nothing against your kind. I mean, against crabs. I would never… I’m not like that. Some of my best friends are… well, not crabs, but you know… I just meant…”

“It’s all right, I understand,” Balthazar calmly said, one pincer softly patting her arm. “I’m sure you’re not like some other adventurers. You’re reasonable, and you can appreciate someone trying to make a living while providing a service to others.”

“Right, yes, of course. Now that you mentioned it, it is quite nice of you to set up here.”

“Exactly. I was sure we’d understand each other. Now, about all that bothersome extra weight you’re burdening yourself with…”

“Well,” the disheveled woman said, “I guess I could sell you one of these sacks, and it would make my trip up the road a bit easier. To be honest, it would be a good help. My bunions are killing me. I got blisters like you wouldn’t believe. Here, I’ll show you—”

“That’s alright, I’ll take your word for it! Let’s just stick to business,” Balthazar quickly said, stopping the woman halfway through taking her shoe off, and possibly eradicating half of the local fauna.

“Fine then, how much you said you’d give me for this sack?” she asked, landing the largest bag in front of the crab with a loud rattling sound.

“35 gold coins.”

“Ah well, I guess it beats breaking my back, taking it up to the gates. Deal.”

After giving her the money, Balthazar watched as the strange woman carried on up the road, slightly faster pace, having only two sacks over each shoulder now.

“Question now is,” he said, while looking inside the sack, “how am I going to convince someone to buy a bunch of small animal bones?!”

Deciding that was a problem for later, the straining crab dragged the sack away from the road and next to his other wares.

Moving over to his hiding hole, he brought his trading logs in front of his eyes and gleefully counted his earnings from that morning that now rested next to his scroll.

[Coin Purse (100)]

[Coin Purse (88)]

Nearly 200 gold already. He wasn’t sure how much or little that was exactly yet, but seeing the glint of all those coins was already filling him with satisfaction. And also a reinforced desire to get even more. He wanted enough shiny coins to fill a whole pond with them, enough so that he could swim in them. Not that swimming in coins would really be very comfortable or even possible. Any water-dwelling creature like him would know that wasn’t feasible. Except for ducks, maybe. A duck would be dumb enough to try it. But the point remained: he craved more of the little things.

While thinking about cravings, Balthazar felt a rumbling in his stomach. Until then, he had led a pretty lazy daily life, and starting a trading post was a lot of busy work, so while the time had flown without him noticing it, his belly sure did, and it demanded sustenance. Figuring it was time to take a short break for lunch, he started heading to his usual fishing spot.

Staring down at the tiny little fish swimming around in the water, he let out a deep sigh.

“If only one of you tasted like pie…” the crab lamented.

It had been about half a day since he sent that boy into town to fetch him the legendary baker, yet adventurers came and went, and no news so far. Could he have been swindled? Did he take the arrows and simply never looked for the baker? Or perhaps the archer had just been pulling his leg the whole time and didn’t really know anyone who produced slices of pie? After all, what are the odds some random town would have such a mythological figure within its walls?

All he knew for now was that he spent all night dreaming about that slice of pie, its texture in his mouth, the flavors, the smell. Oh, the smell of it. It was so wonderful, so captivating. He could almost feel it right there at that moment. In fact, it was so strong, so real, he realized he wasn’t just imagining it, he was actually smelling it in the air!

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