Merchant Crab

“Keep up, Bruce,” said Antoine from atop his large stallion. “I can’t afford to slow down for your sake.”

Bruce, riding a few paces behind on a much smaller horse, scowled at the back of his patron’s head.

“Maybe if we’d swap horses like I’ve suggested, mine wouldn’t be always so tired. This thing is practically a pony. My feet are almost dragging on the road.”

“Nonsense!” barked the arrogant merchant. “I could never allow myself to be seen riding such a pathetic horse. A guildmaster like me must ride only on pure breeds.”

“Former guildmaster,” said the bodyguard. “And shouldn’t you be trying to not be seen, so nobody recognizes you from all those bounty posters?”

Antoine glared back. “Last I checked, I wasn’t paying you double that bounty to hear your inept thoughts.”

“Fine, suit yourself, but then don’t complain about my horse’s stride,” Bruce said with a shrug, unfazed by his employer’s gaze. “And we’d better get to your next hidden cache soon. My pay is almost due.”

“Yes, yes, I know. You’ll get your gold soon.”

“That’s what you said yesterday, and we’re still riding in circles looking for your stupid crab.”

Ardville’s fugitive groaned with frustrated anger.

“He has to be somewhere around here,” he said. “All of his sightings lead to this road, and you heard the people from the burned village, his archer friend left this way as well.”

“And yet, we still haven’t found squat,” said the bored merc. “What’s your plan when we do find him anyway? Because if it’s for me to squash him, that’s gonna cost you extra.”

“Don’t you worry about that,” said the menacing merchant. “I have worse plans for him first.”

Pulling on the horse’s reins, Bruce slowed down and straightened his back. “Heads up, there’s someone on the road.”

Antoine’s gaze followed the merc’s, until he spotted a figure walking towards them along the edge of the path.

“Excellent, another of those moronic adventurers,” the former merchant said quietly. “They all seem to know the crab, so let’s find out if he has seen him somewhere.”

“Greetings,” said the adventurer as they reached each other on the road. “You wouldn’t happen to be interested in buying a few rabbit pelts from—”

“You there!” exclaimed Antoine in a commanding voice, sticking his chin up from atop his stallion. “I require information from you.”

Ren frowned at the man, but remained silent.

The pompous horse rider stared down at him for a moment, barely hiding a sneer as he examined the handmade clothes and armor Ren was wearing.

“You’re a traveling adventurer, I take it?”

The Champion squinted, pondering his answer for a second. “In a way. I am actually looking for an individual. Maybe you could help me. His name is—”

“Excellent,” the man on the horse said, ignoring Ren’s words once again. “Then you should surely be able to tell us: have you seen the…” He paused and swallowed like someone who had just tasted something unsavory. “Esteemed merchant Balthazar around these roads?”

The adventurer’s eyebrows perked up for a split second, before returning to a neutral expression.

“Can’t say that I have,” Ren said casually, gauging the other man’s reaction carefully. “Any particular reason why you are looking for him?”

Antoine scoffed. “I have a debt to settle with him, is all.”

The adventurer cocked an eyebrow and crossed his arms.

“Really? You seem rather upset, friend. Does Balthazar owe you something?”

The rider’s eyes widened with underlying ire. “Oh, he owes me, alright. My entire life! When I find him…”

“Hey, boss,” said the bodyguard riding behind him. “You sure you wanna be sayin—”

“Silence, merc!” Antoine spat. “You’re paid to guard me, not interrupt me.”

Ren rubbed his chin with interest. “Seems like you have a bone or two to pick with this merchant.”

“He is no merchant!” the angry little man said. “That is an insult to my trade. He is a fraud! A liar and a cheater. Ruiner of lives and businesses. You should watch yourself too, adventurers are known to perish around him. He will get what’s coming to him, though. Soon, very soon. I’ll make sure he—”

“I really think we should get going,” said Bruce, riding up to the right of his patron and staring at him with a scowl.

Antoine exhaled sharply before looking down at the horseless man to his left.

“If you haven’t seen him recently then you are of no use to me. Begone.”

And with a click of his ankles, the arrogant rider drove his horse forward without another word, his bodyguard following close behind.

Ren watched quietly as the two departed, while processing the encounter he just had.

“Interesting,” he muttered under his breath. “So this Balthazar is well known around these parts, and apparently has some enemies. Sounds like mine was not the only life he ruined, and that the kid at the beach was not the only one he left for dead.” He paused, tapping on his chin thoughtfully. “Indeed, this Balthazar might be more dangerous than I expected. I must proceed very carefully, and make sure I am powerful enough before I confront him.”

***

“Keep up, Rye,” said Balthazar, while rubbing his itching antennae. “We can’t afford to waste the daylight.”

“Come on, Balthazar,” groaned the archer, several paces behind him and his companions. “We’ve been searching for this supposed town for days now, and we’re still no closer to figuring out where exactly it is, if it even exists at all!”

“We have to be close, I can feel it in my bones!” said the determined crab.

“You don’t have bones!”

“My metaphorical bones!”

“Seriously, when are you going to tell me why this… Condor town is so important?” said Rye.

“I told you, there’s a group of people there that I need to meet,” Balthazar said dismissively.

“So you keep saying, but you dodge explaining how this will help us find Madeleine,” insisted the archer.

The merchant groaned as he continued walking without looking back at his friend. “In a roundabout way, it will. They might have some answers I need.”

Rye stopped walking.

“You know what, that’s enough. If we’re going to keep going around in circles, both in our search and in this conversation, I’m not taking another step until you tell me exactly what it is that you need from this Ruby lady.”

Balthazar stopped too, hesitating for a moment before turning back and walking up to the human.

“I have tried, Rye,” he said with a frown. “And whenever I try to, you are the one who doesn’t let me get too far into it.”

The young man looked at the crab with a confused expression. “What do you mean?”

“You want to know why I need to find this group of adventurers and talk to Ruby? Fine,” the crustacean said in a serious and out of patience tone. “I want her to tell me why talking birds control the system. You know, the little words in your eyes? I want her to tell me why this whole levels charade even exists and why only adventurers can use it. And I want her to tell me where adventurers like you came from and why you all are here, because I’m tired of just watching things happening to me and around me while I tried to just ignore them like I was in my own little bubble.”

Rye’s expression of confusion grew into perplexity. “I… What are you talking about?!”

“What I’m talking about, Rye, is where, for example, have you come from?”

“W-what do you mean? I came from up the road, just like you. We have been traveling together since—”

“No, Rye,” said the resolute crab. “I’m asking where did you come from originally? Before you were an archer, an adventurer, before you had levels and funny words floating in your eyes, before you woke up on a beach. Where did you live before all that?”

“I… I…” the boy stared off into the distance with an empty gaze, his breathing accelerating as a mix of emotions ran through his expression. “I don’t… I don’t know what you’re talking about. I think we should change the subject.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” the crustacean said, before turning back to the road while muttering. “Just like all the other times we had this talk.”

After less than a minute of walking, Balthazar heard Rye’s casual voice speak again.

“So, you think we’re any closer?” the young man said with a smile, as he caught up to the crab.

The merchant stared at him for a moment.

Amazing. Every single time. It’s like I never even mentioned it.

“I don’t know,” said Balthazar, pulling the map out of his backpack. “But I’m pretty sure we’ve scanned this side of the river at this point. We need to cross to the other shore. If that town still exists, it has to be there.” He pointed to the small mountains over the treeline. “The hills match, I just wish Sal could have narrowed down the area a bit more.”

“Alright, let’s get going, then,” said the cheerful young man.

As the quartet of travelers reached the edge of the river, Balthazar looked in both directions. “There’s got to be some way across.”

“Maybe Blue could carry us over to the other side?” suggested Rye.

The drake looked at the crab and the human with a deadly scowl.

“No, that’s definitely not an option,” said Balthazar, gulping at the mere thought of heights. “We need to find a bridge or something.”

“There, let’s ask that local,” Rye said, pointing downstream.

A lone figure stood by the shore, a few paces away from them, seemingly busy doing something the crab could not fully perceive.

As they got closer, he finally figured out the man was pulling an old fishing net from the water, empty and full of holes.

“Howdy there,” said Balthazar.

“Caught any big fish today?” said the friendly archer.

The man tipped his straw hat up with one finger and glanced back at the group. “Ain’t fishing for fish, son.”

“No?” said Rye. “What then?”

“Fishing for valuables,” said the man, as he continued pulling the net to shore. “Adventurers like you do a lot of dying upstream, and sometimes I can nab a few treasures here. Not that that’s any of yer business, o’course.”

“Alright, well, we’re just looking to know if there is a way across this river somewhere nearby,” Balthazar said. “Would you happen to know?”

“Yep,” said the fisherman, from the corner of his mouth that wasn’t busy chewing on a long piece of straw.

After a long pause where the local continued slowly collecting his net, Balthazar threw his arms up. “Well?!”

“Well what?”

“Are you going to tell us?”

“Nope,” the man said casually.

Balthazar felt a vein that did not exist pulsing in a forehead he did not have. “And why the hell not?!”

“Do you really need to know how to get across the river?”

“Of course we do!”

“Then that means that information is valuable to you,” the irritating piscator said, glancing back at them while untangling pieces of algae from his net. “And you see how I’m fishing for valuables over here, don’t you?”

The crab scowled as he exhaled sharply.

“I think he wants us to pay for the information, Balthazar,” said Rye, leaning closer to the crustacean.

“Yes, I got that, thanks,” the annoyed shellfish said. “I just can’t imagine who would see a group of travelers in need of help and decide to try and make a profit out of them in exchange for simple directions!”

“Uh… You? I could totally see you doing that,” muttered the archer.

“Not helping, Rye!”

“Look,” said the fisherman, “I don’t know what it's like where y’all come from, but down here life is tough, and a man’s gotta make a living where he can, however he can. You want to find a way across for yourselves, go right ahead, but you’ll be in for a very long walk.”

“We’ve already wasted days on this ghost town hunt, Balthazar,” whispered the adventurer. “We can’t afford even more time looking for bridges that might not even be there.”

The crab grumbled to himself.

“Fine,” he exclaimed. “Let’s do it my way, then.”

“Great,” the man said, as he prepared to cast the net again. “How much coin you willing to offer?”

Like hell I’ll give you any of my precious coins!

“I had something else in mind,” said Balthazar. “A trade, perhaps.”

“What kind of trade?” the local said, with a cocked eyebrow.

“Ah, the worthwhile kind, of course!” the merchant said, while taking off his Backpack of Holding and shoving both claws inside it.

Let’s see, I gotta have something here that will satisfy this guy.

He searched, rummaged, and dug, but kept on coming up with nothing that sparked the right trader inspiration. Until…

Why in the world did Tristan and Henrietta pack this thing in my bag?! Were they having a laugh?

“So?” said the impatient man. “You gonna make an offer or what? I got a net to cast.”

Negotiate with what you have, I guess…

“Right, about that!” said Balthazar. “Your fishing and your net.”

“What about it?”

“I can’t help but notice that you’re not having much luck pulling anything.”

“And?”

“No offense, but that net looks like it has seen better days,” the crab said. “I think you need something to improve your odds of catching something valuable.”

“Like what?” asked the suspicious fisherman.

“This!” exclaimed the merchant, pulling his claw out of the backpack and holding up a pair of loose fishnets, blowing in the wind like a flag.

“Are those… stockings?” said the incredulous adventurer behind him. “Why are you carrying stockings in your bag?!”

“Please stop asking questions, Rye,” the crab muttered from behind his sales pitch smile.

“The hell do I want that for?” the local said abruptly.

“Isn’t it obvious?” said Balthazar. “These are fishnets. Equip them and their special enchantment will boost your fishing skill, greatly increasing your odds of catching something valuable.”

The man looked at the pair of tights blowing in the wind with suspicion. “Really?”

“Of course,” the merchant confidently said. “Look at me, I’m a crab. If there’s something I know, it’s fishing. And for the low, low price of telling us how to get across this river, these could be yours.”

[The Gift of the Crab: success]

“I do like the way they look, for some reason,” the fisherman said, scratching his prickly chin hair. “Ah, fine, it’s practically free information. I’ll take it.”

“Great. How do we get to the other side?”

“You got two bridges. One is half a day’s walk downstream, and the other is about ten minutes upstream, but trust me, you wanna take the one downstream.”

“Take the one that is several hours away when we’ve got one just ten minutes that way?” said the merchant. “Why would we ever do that? No way, we’re going upstream and—”

“The bridge upstream has a toll.”

“Never mind, we’re going downstream. Let’s go, Rye,” Balthazar quickly said as he spun around to go in the other direction.

“Come on, Balthazar,” said the adventurer, placing a hand on the crab’s arm. “We already lost way too much time, we can’t afford to waste another day just to get to the other side of the river.”

“You heard him, there’s a toll. That means paying money, Rye!”

“Do I really need to remind you why we’re all the way out here, doing this? Would she turn back if it was you in her place?”

Balthazar’s shell slumped slightly, and he let out a quiet sigh.

“Fine. That was a low blow, but you’re right. Let’s go upstream.”

As the group was leaving, the crab looked back at the fisherman, who was trying to work out the best way to fit the fishnets over his straw hat.

“No, no,” yelled the crab, pointing down with his pincer. “They don’t go on your head.”

The man looked at the crab and then down at his own legs. The crab nodded slowly.

Balthazar quickly skittered back to his party, snickering as the fisherman unbuttoned his pants by the shore.

After a short walk along the shore, they spotted a road leading up a small dirt mound, ending on an old stone bridge over the river.

“Look at that!” said the happy crab, stepping on the bridge and turning to the archer with open arms. “That guy was lying. There isn’t even a toll booth here.”

Rye froze on the spot, staring with wide eyes over the merchant’s shell.

Balthazar dropped his arms and sighed. “There’s something behind me, isn’t there?”

The boy nodded slowly, eyes still fixed above his friend.

The ground shook under his feet, and a huge shadow loomed over the crab.

“The fisherman meant the bridge had a troll, not a toll, didn’t he?”

Rye nodded again.