Merchant Crab

It was morning again, but Balthazar had not slept at all. Pacing back and forth, the crab continued fuming over the events of the previous night.

“Damnable birds!”

Despite the lack of rest and exhaustion, his mind continued racing, fueled purely by an ardent rage against the system that had given him things, and then taken them away.

In the true spirit of the common wisdom about not valuing what you have until you lose it, he now wished nothing more than to get his system access back.

All that time, he had never fully realized its true potential, and how a simple crab did, in fact, have the ability to influence the world around him, even if in some roundabout way.

He could have made a fortune with it.

He could have had all the pies he’d ever wished for.

He could have probably even brought Bouldy and Madeleine back.

Balthazar stopped pacing and sighed.

It was hard for him to admit it, but underneath all that burning fury was a far worse feeling that he was trying to subconsciously bury: grief.

Ever since the day the dragon left, he had felt powerless and wished to do something about what he had lost, but after losing access to the system and all the levels, skills, and whatever strange world-breaking ability it was giving him, he realized how he could and should have done a lot more.

He had spent so long feeling sorry for himself that he had failed to take action.

No more, Balthazar promised himself.

The crab was determined to take back what he had lost. He had nothing before that scroll came rolling into his life, and he would achieve it all without missing any of its powers if he had to.

The determined merchant grabbed a plank of wood off his pile of debris and pressed it hard with his right pincer, without it giving any signs of breaking.

“Ow!” he exclaimed, dropping the plank. “Maybe I will miss a thing or two.”

Rubbing his formerly iron claw, Balthazar turned to the entrance of the bazaar and stepped outside.

While he could not fully explain it, it was as if the whole world felt different around him after his system's removal.

The sun did not seem to shine as brightly anymore.

Nature’s colors felt less vivid.

The air and the sounds surrounding him felt more dull.

Even the nearby bush he was looking at felt less real.

Balthazar frowned one eye stalk at the bush.

“Rob?”

“Hey, Balthazar,” a voice said from within the shrub.

“I was going to send word for you, so it’s great that you’re already here, but… how did you know?”

Scooting his foliage closer, the thief placed himself next to the crab.

“I didn’t,” said Rob. “I just came here to see you on my own.”

“Oh, alright,” responded the slightly surprised crab. “Unexpected, but that’s not important right now.”

“Hey, is it just me,” the hidden adventurer interrupted, “or do you look kinda different? What happened to your shiny shell? Did someone steal it? You want me to look into it?”

“No, no,” Balthazar said. “Well, sort of, but it's not something you could help with. It’s a long story. I don’t really want to go into that right now.”

“Yeah…” Rob said in a sheepish voice. “I’ve heard about what happened. It’s what everyone is talking about in town. Look, man, I… I wanna say I’m sorry.”

“Thanks,” the crab said with a discreet sigh. “Not your fault, though.”

“No, that’s what I mean. I’m sorry for failing at my job.”

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“Huh?” said the confused merchant.

“I was supposed to keep my ears and eyes open for any signs of Antoine trying to pull any dirty moves against you, but I had no idea he’d hire a high-level adventurer outside the usual underworld circles. It was totally off my radar!”

“Oh, that,” Balthazar said with a dismissive wave of his claw. “You really have no reason to apologize. You couldn’t have known, and if anything, I should have been the one to predict Antoine would pull some creative way to get to me. Seriously, that all turned out far better than what anyone could have expected, and it’s by now so far back on the road for me it’s barely a concern anymore.”

“Oh…” the quiet shrub let out.

“But if you still want to help me, I got far more pressing matters for you. Remember when I told you to help me find anything on an enchantress called Ruby?”

“Ah!” exclaimed the thief, accompanied by a small jump of his bush. “I almost forgot. That’s the other reason I came down here.”

“It is?!” the crab asked, both eye stalks raised high. “Did you find any information on her?”

“Not exactly, but it seems the word you put out must have finally reached her ears, because she sent you this letter.”

After some light leaf shuffling, the thief produced an envelope from its foliage, offering it to the crab.

Balthazar took the missive with his claw, looking surprised.

“I didn’t expect this,” he said, examining the envelope. “And you didn’t even try to read it?”

A loud scoff sounded from the bush. “I may be a thief, but I still try to have some standards.” He paused while the crab gave him a raised eye stalk. “And I’ve also been around long enough to know when a piece of paper has been enchanted. I ain’t risking getting turned into a frog or something by opening a crab’s correspondence, man.”

The crab looked down at the missive, which had “To Balthazar” neatly written on one side with an elegant cursive style and a wax seal of a shiny scarlet color with a stamped “R” on the other, holding the flaps together.

With anticipation running through him, Balthazar pried the envelope open with his claw and pulled the letter out.

After unfolding the pristine piece of white paper, his eye stalks began frantically reading through its contents.

“Dear Balthazar,

I hope this letter finds you well. For safety reasons, I have enchanted it with protective spells that will trigger if anyone of a race other than crab attempts to break its seal. Perhaps this will strike you as an extreme precaution, but I assure you, it is warranted, as we really cannot be too careful with the matters I am about to write to you about.

I have heard about your recent misfortunes and losses, and I am deeply sorry for them. I know you must have many questions, considering your search for me, even more so after these dark events, and I apologize I could not reach out sooner, but we were not entirely sure you were trustworthy. I believe now that you really are what we were looking for all this time.

Despite my precautions, I cannot risk fully disclosing everything on a letter, so we must meet face to face. I promise to fill you in on everything my associates and I know about this world, the system, what’s being kept hidden from us, and even about a certain traveling adventurer in rags that I believe you have met recently. Until then, all I can offer you in terms of advice is to keep a low profile and to be very suspicious of any birds you see.

There is a small abandoned town called Condor to the southeast, halfway between your pond and the sea, under the shade of a hill. You won’t find it on most modern maps, but if you ask about it to the right locals from that part of the continent, they will know of it. Find it and look for any farmers dwelling around its outskirts. Tell them you are looking for the local birdwatching club. They will point you in the right direction to us. Again, I am sorry for all the cloak-and-dagger, but circumstances require extra care.

Please, do not delay, for I believe you may be the answer we have been looking for, and that we may be the only ones able to help you rescue your friend.

Looking forward to our next meeting,

Ruby

P.S.: If you by some chance had someone else open this letter for you, please extend to them my apologies and let them know the effects should subside after two to three weeks with regular ointment applications to the affected areas. I would advise against scratching them.”

The crab slowly lowered the letter as his eyes stared emptily into the distance, his mind processing everything he had just read.

As he suspected and hoped, she had information on the things he sought, and she even seemed to know about the stranger that had sold the statuette to him. The line about being suspicious of birds was ironic, both because of the previous night’s events, and because if there was someone who had never needed to be told to suspect birds, it was Balthazar.

The part that was truly worrying him was the fact that she was not planning to come to his pond, and instead wanted the crab to go to her. What she did not seem to realize was that he could not leave the area around the pond, no matter how hard he might need to.

The dragon took Madeleine somewhere far away.

The only wizard he knew that might know how to bring Bouldy back was also out there in parts unknown.

And now the woman possibly holding the answers to his existential questions was also somewhere out of reach.

Were Balthazar one to believe in fate, he’d say destiny was trying to give him a push out of his comfort zone. Alas, crabs did not seem to have much concept of fate, and thus did not believe in such things. Truly a godless species.

Alerted by the soft sound of rustling leaves, Balthazar looked to his side, where Rob’s shrub was still awkwardly standing, looking very out of place.

“Right,” said the absent-minded crab. “I suppose you’re waiting for your payment now.”

“Nah, man,” Rob said. “I can’t really charge you for this. Not after I failed to do my job with Antoine. It wouldn’t feel right. I was just waiting to see if you were gonna need anything else from me after reading that.”

“Oh,” Balthazar said, feeling taken aback by the adventurer’s response. “That’s… that’s kind of unexpected, I will admit. Thanks. You know, you’re not that bad… for a thief.”

“Gee, thanks, I guess?” said the talking bush, sounding slightly unamused. “You’re alright too, for a cranky old crab.”

Balthazar would have bickered back, but his mind was already off to other, more important matters.

There was no way around it. He would have to figure out how to finally leave his pond.