Merchant Crab

Ren looked down at the boy with a cocked eyebrow. Something about that strange character made him feel uncomfortable.

“And who are you?” asked the adventurer.

“Hi! My name’s Taffy!” the freckled young man excitedly declared. “I am Mr. Balthazar’s number one fan!”

The champion turned on his stool to face the peculiar figure.

“His… fan?” Ren repeated, incredulous.

He wondered what kind of merchant had fans. Unless, of course, being a merchant was just a sham, a disguise meant to conceal what he truly was. That would make perfect sense for such a sinister and powerful figure who seems to puppeteer the lives of others in that world.

Indeed, the more Ren learned about this Balthazar, the more clear it became how cunning and dangerous he was.

“Why are you a fan of a merchant?” the adventurer inquired.

“Oh! Because Mr. Balthazar is amazing! And so much more than just a merchant!” said Taffy.

“And you’re an adventurer, aren’t you?” the inquisitive boy asked, pushing his smiling face closer.

Ren pulled his own head back and frowned at him. “What makes you think that?”

“Oh, I just know. I’ve seen many of you back in my hometown. You all just have this… air to you that oozes coolness!”

The adventurer’s eyebrows flicked. “Back in your hometown? You’re not from here?”

“Oh no, no,” said Taffy. “I’m from a town several days away from here. I’m actually searching for Mr. Balthazar myself. My mom didn’t approve of it, but I told her ‘mom, I’m an adult now, and I’ll do as I choose!’ And so I grabbed my bag and got on the road.”

“So you’re searching for this merchant as well? What for?”

“To serve him, of course!” the strangely excited boy declared.

Ren did his best to maintain his poker face, but the odd fellow was weirding him out more and more with every word.

“I want nothing more than to serve him in any way I can,” Taffy continued. “Just accompanying him on his journey would be a privilege. I don’t care if I have to fetch water for him or even carry his junk.”

“Why would you want to carry his—”

“Oh, the amazing things I would see!” exclaimed the carrot-head boy, causing some of the other people in the tavern to turn their gazes to them. “The tales of Mr. Balthazar’s exploits are legendary—as I’m sure you’ve heard too—and I want to come along, to witness such awesomeness from the front row!”

The champion tried to interject. “What do—”

“What’s your favorite feat from Mr. Balthazar?” the electrified fan asked, eyes wide. “The time he vaporized the dark mage who invaded his home is good, but I still think my favorite has to be the time he single-handedly defeated the red dragon that took out over a hundred adventurers with a flap of its wings. That was just epic!”

Ren’s eyebrows furrowed as the boy continued spewing words at dizzying speeds.

“Do you think if I spend long enough around him, I’ll become at least a tiny bit as awesome as Mr. Balthazar?!”

The loud commotion was starting to turn too many heads from other patrons, and the adventurer grew worried. He had worked hard to get by without attracting too much attention to himself, and this loud ginger lunatic was putting all of that at risk.

“Anyway, sorry, I went off on my own here and forgot about you,” said Taffy, staring wide-eyed at the champion. “You’re looking for Mr. Balthazar too, right? I’ve been searching for weeks with no luck. Oh! Maybe we could team up! Me and you! Taffy and a real adventurer, questing for the great Balthazar. I love it! Let’s do it! What’s your name? Oh, goodness, I cannot wait for us to find him, so I can regale him with the tale of how we met!”

Some of the people around them started standing up from their chairs and walking closer to the counter, attracted by the racket, and Ren perceived that he needed to slip out before too much attention fell on him.

“Oi, what’s going on here?” a bulky lumber mill worker asked the boy from a nearby stool.

“Did you say you’re looking for someone, kid?” another villager said, approaching them with a tankard in hand.

While Taffy turned to look at the incoming townsfolk, the champion slipped down from his stool, and using his excellent skills picked up from his high school track practice years, quickly sneaked his way towards a backdoor.

“Oh, hello!” the freckled boy said to the people gathering around him. “Are you guys Mr. Balthazar’s fans too? You should totally join us, we were just… Hey, where did he go? Mr. adventurer?! Where did you go? You never told me your name!”

Ren closed the tavern door behind him with a quiet click and hurriedly started heading down the street, looking over his shoulder every few steps as a bead of sweat ran down his forehead under the midday sun.

“What the hell kind of person attracts that type of lunatic?!” he muttered to himself.

Arriving at the edge of the village, the adventurer decided it was high time to leave that settlement and look for a new destination. There was no telling what dangers he would find himself in if he were to stay there, with such a fervent fanatic who seemed to worship the very merchant Ren sought to confront.

Indeed, the more he learned about Balthazar, the more clear it became that this was no mere two-bit bad guy, but a full-fledged villain who commanded great power and a loyal following of cultists.

Someone who was able to bring souls from other worlds into his own, someone who ruined the lives of others, someone who attracted fervent worshipers, and even worse, someone who apparently could stand one-on-one against dragons.

As Ren headed down the road away from the village, it became ever more clear that he would need a lot more than just nicer armor and a new longsword to face this “merchant” fiend.

He would need real power. A lot more of it.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

***

Balthazar and his two companions had been on the road for days, heading east, and while the crab had been relieved to step away from the gloomy lands of Condor and back to the more lively vistas that Heartha had to offer, the feeling was short-lived.

“Stupid thing,” he grumbled, while struggling with the large piece of parchment in his pincers. “What good is a magical map that marks where my destination is, but doesn’t show the route there?!”

After weeks without crossing any settlements or signs of civilization, only the occasional adventurer or wild animal on the road, Balthazar began wondering if he hadn’t somehow gotten lost and been going in circles around the same wilderness.

Thankfully, he was accompanied by someone who could fly.

Blue was gliding high above the crab and the goblin, scouting the path ahead for any relevant landmarks, or dangers. It was thanks to her keen eyes that the group had so far avoided most encounters with bandits, scoundrels, or worse, traveling tax inspectors.

The downside of remaining antisocial on the road was that now the merchant found himself unable to resort to his usual method of finding people: asking an adventurer.

Balthazar sighed quietly as he walked up the road, with Druma following close behind, picking pine cones as he went.

He recalled the day he first met Rye, over by the road next to his pond, when he convinced the young man to go into Ardville and find the “maker of pies” for him.

Why do I miss the kid? I used to go weeks without seeing him before, and now I keep wondering where he is?!

It couldn’t be helped. The crab kept worrying about the archer, whether he was alright after the dehazing tea, or if he was still struggling.

Things certainly were so much simpler when all he cared about were pastries and coins. At least the shiny metal does not feel sorrow.

Alright, focus, Balthazar! There’s nothing you can do about that, but you can do something about Bouldy. I gotta find that wizard.

As he moved through yet another dirt road between some woods full of more naked trees and yellow leaves covering the ground, the merchant spotted someone coming down the road towards them.

Good, an adventurer. I can finally ask for directions.

As the crab came closer, he noticed the young man was carrying a huge backpack, stuffed to the point of bursting, while walking with difficulty and extremely slowly.

This guy better not step on me like I’m a stone, or I’m gonna have to give him the pinch too.

“Hey there, pal,” Balthazar greeted as the two travelers crossed. “I was wondering if—”

“What are you?” the adventurer asked bluntly without turning his gaze to the crab or even stopping his march. Not that it was very noticeable, given how his feet barely inched forward with each painfully slow step.

What does this guy mean by ‘what’ am I?!

“I’m Balthazar, a crab and a merchant, but—”

“Great,” the snail man interrupted again, “you’re a merchant. I got stuff to sell.”

“I am, but I wasn’t really looking—”

“Come on, man, hurry up, I’m suffering over here! Let’s get to trading.”

Argh! Typical rude adventurers. But I have been falling behind on my trading quotas…

“Fine, let’s do business,” the merchant declared. “Are you looking to buy or sell?”

“What do you think?!” exclaimed the burdened traveler. “Sell! Come on, let’s go.”

He dropped the pack from his shoulders and onto the ground with difficulty and began rummaging through it.

“Alright, you can take this, this… also this… this as well…”

With no care or ceremony, the adventurer began tossing items from his bag onto the dirt path in front of the crab.

A straw pillow.

Two wooden bowls.

A cracked ladle.

Half a dozen horseshoes.

A hammer with the head and the handle missing.

Even a couple of calipers.

The items kept on piling up, and the merchant just watched, dumbfounded.

Why do they pick all of these things up?! I will never understand it.

“There, that should do it,” the seller said. “How much for those things?”

“This is all trash! What value do you expect these things to have?!”

“Come on, don’t play hard with me, merchant,” said the adventurer. “Give me a number. Here, maybe you need some more stuff…”

Reaching into his backpack, the young man produced a large bucket and placed it upside down on the pile of other junk items already on the ground.

“No, I really don’t need…”

Shoving both arms into the opening of the bag, the adventurer huffed and puffed as he forcibly pulled a wooden chair out of it.

“How the hell are you even carrying that?!” exclaimed the baffled crab. “Actually, never mind that. What even made you decide to pick that up at all?!”

“So, what about now?” said the traveler, leaning on the chair and wiping the sweat from his forehead. “Maybe ten gold for it all?”

“Why…” The merchant stopped himself and took a deep breath.

Just do it for the experience, Balthazar. Focus on that experience.

“I’ll give you five gold for this and—”

“Deal,” the seller said abruptly, while pulling the straps of his pack back onto his shoulders.

Still shaking his shell at the whole ordeal, but deciding to just be done with the transaction, Balthazar paid the young man his five crowns while choosing to focus on the small progress it would bring him towards another level.

After having reequipped his backpack, the traveler prepared to resume his march, but the next step he took was once again as slow as a turtle’s.

Scoffing in annoyance, the human reached back into the bag with one hand and rummaged through it as he grumbled to himself, while the merchant watched on, still befuddled by his odd behavior.

“There, you can have that one for free, I gotta hurry,” he told the crab while dropping one more item onto the pile: a single quill pen.

And then the adventurer simply took off, jogging and skipping down the road with great ease.

The crab stared at the human disappearing into the distance with his mouth half open. These adventurers will never make sense to me.

After shaking his shell disapprovingly, Balthazar turned to his brand-new pile of junk and scratched the side of his face.

“How am I gonna carry all this crap?” he asked, looking at his goblin assistant with a puzzled expression.

Druma simply shrugged.

“Why would I even want to carry all this crap?” the crab added.

Crossing his arms, the merchant turned an eyestalk down the road, and the other up the path.

“Hey, psst, Druma,” he whispered to the goblin, despite there not being another soul anywhere near them. “Help me put these under that pile of leaves over there.”

After the two travelers finished concealing the worthless items under some brown and orange leaves by the side of the road, the crab brushed his claws as he returned to the path. He wasn’t proud of his solution, but unfortunately the roads through the wilderness of Mantell did not yet have convenient garbage dumpsters available at every corner, and there was just no way Balthazar saw himself arriving at a dragon’s lair with a wooden chair tied to his shell. Despite how much that might add in terms of intimidation.

I wouldn’t want to mess with someone carrying an upside down chair on their back if they barged into my home, but still…

As they returned to their march up the road—and after the crab quickly went back to grab the two calipers just in case they’d ever come in handy—Blue appeared above the crab and goblin, flapping her wings as she hovered in place and let out a couple of screeches at them.

“What is it, girl? Little Timmy fell down the well again?” Balthazar said, holding a claw above his eyestalks to protect against the sunlight as he stared up at the drake. “Or did you just spot something up ahead on the road?”

The winged creature screeched again.

“Yeah, the second one. That’s what I figured.”

Moving his gaze down to the road, the crab spotted something up ahead. As they approached, he realized it was a human figure, standing by the side of the path, organizing things in the back of a hand pulled cart.

There did not seem to be any danger to him, so Balthazar kept walking towards the traveler, who wore loose overalls, muddy hiking boots, and a tricorn on his head.

Hmm, strange. Why does that hat seem familiar?