Merchant Crab

“Don’t slouch!”

“I’m not slouching!”

“And straighten your apron. It’s crooked.”

“Will you stop? You’re worse than my grandma!”

The merchant crab tapped impatiently on the wooden floorboards while the baker girl adjusted the frills of the white apron around her waist.

“Shouldn’t he be here by now?” Balthazar asked. “Maybe he’s not coming at all. Maybe he just forgot about me and we’re all good.”

“He will show up, Balthazar,” Madeleine said. “Taxmen don’t just forget like that, I promise you.”

“I told you,” said Rye from behind them. “I saw him leave his office early in the morning before I headed down here. He’s doing his rounds. He’ll get here, eventually.”

The young adventurer sat on a wide wooden bench, one foot up on the seat, casually biting on an apple.

Madeleine stood next to Balthazar, who was sitting on his purple cushion, propped up on a crate in order to reach the improvised banquet table, which was made of two rectangular wooden slabs put together with a large tablecloth covering them.

Behind him stood Bouldy, motionless and waiting. To his right, another cushion lay on the floor, this one red, and containing a sleeping blue drake.

“Are you sure you didn’t forget anything?” the anxious crab asked.

“I was already sure when you asked me that five minutes ago. Everything you asked for is here,” Madeleine said, gesturing towards a smaller table behind them with several boxes and baskets on it.

“If you’d seen what I’ve seen, you would understand,” said Balthazar. “His mere aura of taxation is overwhelming. I cannot afford to make any mistakes in this fight.”

“I think you’re exaggerating a bit, Balthazar. It’s just an old man,” the skeptical baker said.

“Yes, mate, calm down,” the smiling archer added. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re about to fight a demon lord or something.”

“He might as well be one! Do you guys think taxes are a joke? He wants to take my precious gold!”

The two humans exchanged glances at each other, with slight eye rolls, and did their best not to smile too much at the crab’s perils.

“Boss, boss!” a running goblin shouted as he came running from the road. “Old man coming down now!”

“Good job, Druma,” Balthazar said. “Now stand where I told you and make sure you keep your hat on. Everyone else too, get in position and remember the plan.”

A gust of wind blew past the trading post as a group of clouds passed in front of the sun, blocking its light for a moment.

The terrifying figure appeared from the road with his two guards trailing him close behind.

Wearing his official green gown and hat, the small and frail old man gazed at the scene in front of him from behind his tiny glasses, precariously held by the tip of his nose, baggy cheeks jiggling softly as his head turned from side to side.

“Greetings, Mr. Abernathy!” Balthazar enthusiastically said.

“Good day, Mr. Balthazar,” the taxman said, still looking around at the unconventional arena set in front of him. “Is this a bad time? Were you preparing to have a banquet today? I see you also have guests.”

“Not at all, not at all!” Balthazar assured him, while standing up and pulling back a chair at the top of the table. “I was actually waiting for your arrival. But please, the way down here under this sun must have been taxing on you. Have a seat.”

The old man raised his eyebrows in consideration.

“Well, it is a relatively hot day. I wouldn’t mind resting for a moment before we proceed. My knees are not what they used to be.”

The man sat down as his two guards stood back, spears up, eyes front.

The stage was set. He had taken the bait.

“Good, good. We can talk better this way,” the crab said as he moved back to his cushion. “And it will be even better if we discuss the matters at hand over some delicacies. I hope you don’t mind, but I am famished, and it would be entirely rude on my part not to offer.”

“Well, I supposed there is no harm,” Abernathy conceded. “And it would be rude on my part to turn it down as well.”

“Excellent! Then—”

“Excuse me! Excuse me! I hope I’m not late!”

Antoine had just arrived from the road, visibly out of breath, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead.

“Mr. Antoine,” Abernathy said, “what are you doing here? I don’t believe I requested your presence for this official business.”

“Oh, I know, Mr. Abernathy,” the still panting merchant said, while retrieving a white handkerchief from his pocket and wiping his brow. “But I wouldn’t miss this for the world. And as the master of the Merchants Guild of Ardville, I believe it is in our best interest to see this prickly matter resolved once and for all. This… individual has been impacting our good town’s business for far too long, and as their representative, I am here to witness justice finally being served.”

“This seems highly—” the taxman started.

“It’s fine, Mr. Abernathy,” Balthazar said, raising an appeasing pincer. “I actually don’t mind Mr. Antoine being here at all. It’s good that he bears witness, so there’s no complaining later.”

Antoine gave the crab a frown of suspicion.

“Well, if you have nothing against it,” said the older man, “I suppose there is no reason for me to place objections, either. Let us carry on?”

“Yes, of course.” Balthazar turned his eyes to Antoine again. “Ah, I’m afraid we did not have an extra seat prepared for any unannounced guests.” He gave the town merchant the sincerest of smiles.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

“That’s fine by me,” said the standing man, adjusting his feathered hat before crossing his arms. “I don’t plan on staying long, anyway. I have much business to take care of back in town. Just want to see this matter sorted quickly.”

“Well, we were just about to have a little brunch here, under this beautiful weather, while we discuss matters,” the golden merchant said, his smile turning sly, “but I’m sure you’d also not be interested in partaking on any of that, would you?”

“Absolutely not,” the other said. “I have no interest in breaking bread with lowlifes.”

“Suit yourself. But bread is not quite what we have on the menu today.” Balthazar turned back to Abernathy. “First, allow me to introduce to you the one responsible for the baked goods I purchase. This is Madeleine. And allow me to point out that she is a baker from your town, and that the purchases I make from her are all money that goes back into circulation at your market.”

Madeleine made a slight bow at the tax inspector, her cheeks looking slightly rosier than usual, her eyes fixed on the floor.

“Oh, you make business with Mr. Balthazar here? Very interesting,” Abernathy said.

“I’ve seen you before, have I not?” Antoine said to Madeleine, his tiny eyes squinting at her. “At the market?”

The baker kept her gaze on the floorboards and did not say a word.

“And this,” the crab continued, pointing a pincer to the archer sitting on a bench a few paces away from the table, “is Rye, a member of the Adventurers Guild. Seeing as they are my main source of customers, they have a vested interest in the events that might transpire here today, so he shall serve as an impartial observer.”

Rye gave the group a wave and a shy smile.

Antoine opened his mouth to speak, but an irked glare from the taxman put a stop to his next intervention.

“A pleasure to meet one of our nation’s esteemed and brave adventurers, Mr. Rye,” Abernathy said, giving the young man a nod.

“As for the other inhabitants of my pond, I believe you both still remember the golem behind me.” They both glanced nervously at the immobile rock giant behind the crab. “And this here is Druma, my loyal assistant, whom I believe Mr. Antoine has met, but you have not, Mr. Abernathy.”

The goblin stepped forward from behind Bouldy and gave the guests an awkward bow of his head, his hat nearly falling from his head.

“A goblin? As an assistant? Very irregular,” the inspector said, eyeing the goblin with curiosity.

“That right there!” Antoine blurted out. “That menacing creature threatened my life the first time I came here to converse with the crab. You cannot allow a dangerous creature such as a goblin roaming freely in Ardville territory. Do your duty, seize it!”

The irate merchant turned to the two guardsmen, who looked at each other, the goblin, and then the taxman.

“Please control yourself, Mr. Antoine,” Abernathy calmly said. “The guardsmen of Ardville are not your private force to command. And while I admit a goblin is a very dubious choice of employee, these are very odd circumstances to begin with, and given the small creature’s behavior, I don’t believe him to be an immediate threat. I’d like to at least allow Mr. Balthazar to make his case first, before passing any judgment.”

With his pencil mustache twitching, the other merchant huffed loudly and crossed his arms again.

The inspector looked past Balthazar and adjusted his glasses as he squinted.

“Excuse my nearsightedness, but is there not something breathing next to you, Mr. Balthazar?”

“Ah, yes, I was getting to that,” the crab said. “This here is Blue, my pet drake. Don’t worry, she’s very well trained and well behaved.”

Balthazar hoped to everything that the feast of birds he had Rye shoot down for the drake that morning would keep her sleeping through the whole meeting, as he did not want to find out what would happen otherwise.

All four men on the other side of the table leaned forward to look at the pillow next to the crab, curious to see the slumbering creature. She rested with her long body coiled around itself, wings folded, small puffs of steam released with each exhale.

Antoine’s jaw dropped. Not a word coming out of him.

“A real, living drake?!” a surprised Abernathy questioned, his backside raised from his chair as he leaned even further. “I had read stories of kings and noblemen who owned such creatures, but never in all my years did I get to see one in person.”

The showing off phase had gone perfectly. Intimidation had been achieved. It was time to take the next step.

“Ah, yes, indeed, rare and fascinating creatures,” Balthazar said. “But also very temperamental and fond of their sleep. Best we do not disturb it much.”

He snapped his silver claw at the baker.

“I don’t like to discuss business on an empty stomach, so allow me to present you with a small… snack.”

Madeleine approached the table with a plate of pie.

“I was not sure of your preference, so I took the liberty of procuring a variety of pies for our enjoyment. Feel free to take your pick, or a little of each.”

The girl carefully placed the plate on the table, between the crab and the taxman.

“First, a classic that you can never go wrong with,” the crab announced.

“Apple pie. Simple, but delicious. Does not require much more introduction.”

Abernathy pulled his glasses further up the bridge of his nose for once and marveled at the perfectly caramelized slices of apple neatly arrayed over the pie’s surface.

“Next,” Balthazar continued, as Madeleine retrieved another plate and brought it to the table, “a pie I only recently discovered myself, but already fell in love with. Pecan pie.”

The inspector snapped his gaze from the first pie to the second, eyes widening at the sight of the dark, nicely toasted pecan nuts encrusting the soft surface of the pie.

“Even though I wasn’t a big fan of nuts before,” the smiling crustacean continued, “this one won me over. I couldn’t convince our baker here to reveal her secret, but something in it adds a fruity and spicy flavor that is just… hmm!”

The crab pinched the air, while the taxman seemed to have a hard time controlling his heavy breathing.

“But if neither of those do it for you,” Balthazar said, “Madeleine also suggested a house special.” The baker brought yet another plate onto the table, two slices already cut, revealing a glistening and moist red filling.

“Rhubarb and strawberry pie. An unexpected combination to me, but I was very pleasantly surprised. Hopefully, you will give it a chance and share my opinion.”

The old man seemed on the verge of drooling, his eyes unable to pick between looking through or over the lenses at each one of the pies in front of him.

“And, of course, just in case pies do not do it for you today, we also have a collection of tarts, scones, cookies, and other goodies that you can try.”

Madeleine quickly moved back and forth, bringing plate after plate onto the table, until nearly every open space was taken by some form of pastry.

Abernathy was completely lost for words as he looked over the banquet of baked goods laid out in front of his eyes, his wife’s health concerns certainly far gone to the back of his mind.

“This is unacceptable!” a furious Antoine yelled out. “This is a shameless and blatant attempt at swaying you! At buying your goodwill. At… at… bribing you!”

Abernathy’s half open mouth suddenly closed. His eyes broke out of their trance, and he turned to the guildmaster.

“Mr. Antoine,” he began, in a commanding and stern voice, “I have faithfully served the crown for five decades, did my duty for longer than you’ve been alive, and never once had so much as a single stain on my reputation. If you wish to question my ability to do my job fairly simply because someone offers me…” He briefly glanced at the pies in front of him and swallowed before continuing. “...appetizers, then I suggest we take this matter up to the mayor himself, where we can discuss it openly, my honor and word against yours.”

Antoine’s mustache sagged slightly as he gulped, his neck stretching to adjust the collar around it.

“I… I didn’t mean to question your professionalism, it’s just that this is… this is highly irregular, you must admit, and I thought it should be brought up because…”

“I find myself still perfectly capable of thinking with my own head and determine when a situation is inappropriate or not under our laws, Antoine. I’d suggest you do not interfere with our meeting any further, or I will be forced to forget your status and have these two guards remove you from our vicinity. Are we clear?”

“Y-yes, very clear. I understand,” the merchant said, tugging on the collar of his shirt with a finger.

“Now, where were we, Mr. Balthazar?” Abernathy said, turning back to the feast in front of him.

This was the moment. Balthazar's opponent had been successfully dazed and put under the effects of his strongest technique: pastries. It was time to strike.

“I believe we were about to talk business over some pie.”

Balthazar smiled as he signaled to Druma, who brought him a small pile of books and a large folded map.