Merchant Crab

Night had just fallen over the pond and the plains across from it were dark and quiet, save for the chilly breeze that blew across the grass. With summer finally gone, being out after sundown was no longer as pleasant, but Balthazar stood steadfast by his bazaar’s entrance, no chill or sleepiness able to pull him away from such an important moment.

That night would be the first meeting between him and the mysterious lizardfolk he had heard so much about.

And by so much, he actually meant barely anything.

He knew they were reclusive, they lived in the marshes far to the south, and little more. The orcs had been short on words about them, despite the orc chieftain’s claim that they hold good relations with their tribe, and human books were of little help, as it was usually the case with any sentient nonhuman race, since they merely described the lizard people as savages and dangerous.

It came as no surprise to Balthazar, seeing as, according to human books, crabs were also just unintelligent invertebrates and their writers seemed entirely unaware of them possessing any ability to start a business or even talk.

Clearly, human knowledge was very limited in certain fields. If he was not so busy running his bazaar and talking to low intelligence adventurers all day, Balthazar would love to educate them on crab greatness.

Standing next to him was Bouldy, guarding him as usual, and Henrietta, sitting on the ground with her Bag of Holding strapped around herself.

If the giant crab looked small next to the golem, the toad looked just tiny next to the two of them.

That night was also important for her, as it would be Henrietta’s first time handling the night business for Balthazar. If all went well, the plan was that in the future she would stay up, dealing with the nighttime clientele, while the crab enjoyed his much deserved rest after a day of adventurer handling.

As much as Balthazar liked to be very claws-on with his business, he knew there was no feasible way for him to do both shifts, and the idea of leaving potential coin on the table upset him slightly more than having a toad working for him.

“Working with you,” said Henrietta.

“Huh? What?” Balthazar said, snapping out of his thoughts.

“I don’t work for you,” she clarified. “I work with you, remember? You’re not my boss. I’m not taking orders from any big ego merchants ever again.”

“Right, yes, of course,” the crab said, nodding his shell while wondering at what point had he started thinking out loud.

Before he could ask her any further questions, the light of a torch announced the arrival of the orcs.

Stepping out of the grass, Khargol and his two warrior-brothers, both carrying large bags of loot over their shoulders, approached the awaiting trio.

“Greetings,” said the chieftain with a nod.

His expression was serious and only mildly intimidating, which Balthazar had come to learn meant the orc was probably in an agreeable mood.

It was a very fine line to distinguish.

“Welcome, fellas,” the crab said, opening both arms in a welcoming manner. “Let’s step inside, where it’s warmer.”

The six of them walked inside the bazaar, where the warmth of the fire pit and shelter from the cold outside breeze made for a much more cozy environment. Despite that, Balthazar had a feeling the visitors cared little for such things, or else they would not be walking around with sleeveless leather armor. Or perhaps they just enjoyed the feeling of a gentle breeze on their biceps. The crab would just never know for certain.

“The lizardfolk envoy will be arriving later,” Khargol bluntly stated, before Balthazar made any questions. “Their homeland is much farther away from here than ours, but worry not, their kind are masters at navigating the wilds quickly and discreetly.”

“Excellent!” Balthazar said. “I look forward to meeting them, but until then, I’m guessing you guys brought some business of your own?” He pointed towards the other two orcs and their heavy bags.

“Indeed,” the chieftain confirmed, while signaling for his companions to come forth with their cargo. “A large party of foolish humans came upon our settlement recently. We advised them to turn back and leave.”

The two orcs opened the bags and unceremoniously dumped their contents on the floor between them. Multiple pieces of leather and steel armor with blood splattered all over them, a helmet with a patch of hair still hanging from it, and even some loose teeth came rolling out of the bag like dice being thrown.

Khargol crossed his arms, and a smirk formed behind his tusks. “They did not turn back and leave.”

Balthazar glanced at Henrietta, who sat next to him with wide eyes and a mixture of concern and disgust as she looked at the display of items in front of them.

“Uh, very… interesting choice of goods you brought us today,” the golden merchant said.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

“We will take 110 gold for the lot,” the orc stated in his usual assertive tone that was meant to sound final.

Balthazar gave the bloodied gear another glance. “Well, I guess if—”

“Excuse me,” Henrietta said, looking at the crab. “If I may?”

“I… yes, sure, go ahead,” Balthazar said with some hesitation. “I suppose I should let you take care of it, since that was the plan. Force of habit, I guess.”

The toad hopped forward as the crab skittered back to give her space.

“So, if I’m getting this straight,” she started, “these are items you took from fallen adventurers who came to your village and fought you, right?”

The corner of Khargol’s mouth twitched slightly and made a brief snarling sound before he answered. “Yes, they are. They came to us, we are entitled to collect the spoils of foolish—”

“No, no, I get that part,” Henrietta interrupted. “A bit gruesome, but I’m not going to dwell on the whole human slaying part right now. Business is business.”

“Good. Then what seems to be the problem?”

“Well, for starters, look at this.” She extended both of her forelegs towards one of the leather chest pieces. “Big hole right over the heart. I’m guessing from one of your blades. Who’s going to want to buy torso armor with holes over the important parts?”

“Minor damage,” the orc said, giving the armor a disdainful look. “Nothing some quick patchwork won’t fix.”

“Oh, alright, and who’s going to do that work? Not you, apparently. So, us? The client? Who covers the costs of repairs?”

Khargol’s lips twisted in a displeased manner behind his fangs. Balthazar swallowed dry and considered interjecting, but before he could say anything, Henrietta continued.

“And look at those pants, all bloodied. Nobody’s going to buy gear covered in blood. Do you have any idea how hard it is to remove dry blood from these? No, of course you don’t, since you clearly made no attempt to wash it off before bringing it here. I’m guessing your wives do all that back home, so you’re used to things just appearing clean in front of you, without putting any value into what it takes to make that happen.”

Khargol’s brow furrowed even deeper than usual, which was already pretty deep by default, and his crossed arms tightened on each other. Balthazar could swear the sound he was hearing was the leather from his armor straining as his chest puffed out.

“I think what Henrietta is trying to say is that 110 gold is perfectly—”

“I’m not done, Balthazar,” the toad quickly and firmly stated. “I think 100 gold would be a fair price for these pieces if they were all in good condition, which is clearly not the case, so 110 is not an acceptable value at all.”

“110 is our only offer,” Khargol said in a low, deep tone. “If you don’t want them, then we will just leave with the items.”

The chieftain signaled for the other two orcs and they began opening their bags to collect the weapons and armor.

“Fine,” the green merchant calmly said. “Better no deal than a bad deal. You might try your luck with a human merchant next, or stop by one of the many other non-human trading outposts on your way home. Perhaps you can bring all these back to your village and ask your wives to wash and fix them up before you try selling them again. I know enough about orc women and their temper to know they would probably not be too pleased to find you returned after being out all night without selling anything and that you shamed orcish pride by presenting such dirty and poorly maintained gear to a trading partner. From what I hear, it’s them who do all the leather working and smithing in orc villages, right? I can only imagine the talking to they’d give seeing these presented as what their tribe has to offer for trading.”

Khargol’s eyes slowly grew wider as the toad spoke, and Balthazar started fearing for the worst, until the chieftain held one hand up, ordering his fellow orcs to stop picking the items back up.

“Go stand outside, keep an eye out for threats and let us know when the lizards arrive,” he said to them in a low and calm voice.

The warrior-brothers nodded and promptly walked out of the bazaar through the front gate, leaving their chieftain standing alone over the bloodied weapons and torn up pieces of armor strewn across the floor.

“You are astute, toad,” Khargol said, his arms still tightly crossed, enhancing his bulging muscles in a mildly threatening manner. “I will accept a deal of 90 gold pieces this time, in the interest of a good starting relationship.”

Looking not the least bit threatened or bothered, Henrietta responded without even taking a moment to think. “80 gold.”

The orc let out a quiet snarl once again. “85 gold, no less.”

“75.”

Balthazar could nearly swear he felt the gust of wind that shot out of the orc’s nostrils as he heard the toad’s answer.

“Fine, 80 gold pieces and we talk no further of this matter,” the tall orc said, letting his shoulders relax down but still keeping his arms firmly crossed.

“Deal,” Henrietta said with a wide smile.

“You are a shrewd deal maker,” the chieftain said, finally uncrossing his arms and letting his scowl ease up a notch. “I will come to respect that once my displeasure for this deal fades away.”

“No hard feelings, chieftain,” said Henrietta, with a gentle bow of her head. “I can tell you’re a harsh but ultimately fair one to deal with.”

As Balthazar stood to the side watching the other two, he felt a mixture of very confusing and conflicting feelings.

He felt nearly inadequate, watching such a polite exchange between them, making him wonder if it really wasn’t the norm to walk out of a trade where one party was strong-armed either feeling triumphant and superior or irritated and hating the other’s guts.

The crab also felt a slight hit to his own pride, realizing the toad had just quickly and nearly effortlessly done what he had never achieved, by making the orc chieftain accept a lower offer for his goods.

Was he not as great and successful of a merchant as he had thought?

Had the charismatic crustacean really just been schooled on the art of making deals by an amphibian?

A hint of prideful irritation was starting to bubble up inside his shell, but then, as if throwing pond water over flaming coals, Balthazar felt that feeling subside.

He realized he should not be upset. If anything, he should be happy instead. Maybe there were a few things to learn from others, and if they made him an even better merchant, that would be his own gain. Her being a good deal maker was, in fact, a great thing, as it would mean he could rest easy every night knowing she would handle things at his bazaar well.

There was no reason for him to feel diminished, for at the end of the day, he was still the famous merchant who owned his own bazaar down by his beautiful pond, and such a crab had no reason to compare himself to others.

Balthazar would not feel any lesser, because he already knew he was great.

Content with the lesson he had just learned there, and feeling sure he had taken the right conclusions out of it—at least for the most part—he turned to the toad to congratulate her on a deal well made.

“Nicely done, Henrietta. That was nearly as good as if I had done it myself. I’m glad the night business will be in good hands.”

The toad squinted at the crab’s remark, but before she could say anything, one of Khargol’s traveling companions stepped back into the bazaar.

“The lizardfolk envoy has arrived.”

“Good,” the chieftain said with a nod. “Let us introduce you to him, crab.”

“Worry not, Khargol,” Balthazar said, giving the top of his golden shell a quick shine with the back of his claw, “first impressions are one of my specialties.”