Merchant Crab

The drake took a deep breath and spread her wings as she shot a stream of blue flames over the pond’s water, her talons firmly gripping the ground as she screeched.

Pulling her head back and relaxing her body, Blue looked at the crab standing next to her.

“Very good, girl!” he cheered, snapping his pincers together in what one could only assume was his version of clapping.

The winged creature closed her eyes in a vaguely smug way while straightening up her neck. Draconic creatures seemed to very much enjoy receiving praise, Balthazar had noted.

“Your fire breathing range is getting better,” he said. “Just need to keep practicing it and you’ll reach even further soon. I can also tell you’re holding it for longer. Very impressive!”

Blue shook her wings and let out a low growl of contentment as the crab walked around the small pool of pond water in front of them.

“Alright, girl, one more try,” the crab said. “But remember, shoot over the water. Don’t want to set anything on fire.”

Balthazar hurried back to her side and out of the line of fire as she drew in another large breath.

“Hold…” the crab said, holding up an open pincer. “Picture a nice, big bird, just begging to be roasted. You need to time it, or it will fly away. And… fire!”

He snapped his pincer and the drake let loose the flames from her mouth, which shot in a straight blue line over the water’s surface, which bubbled up as it boiled from the heat.

“Well done!” Balthazar exclaimed, looking at the water with a pleased expression. “I think that’s enough. You can rest up and recover your breath. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

The drake watched with curiosity as the crab walked around her and disappeared behind some boxes.

A moment later, he reappeared with a white linen towel over one of his claws, quickly skittering his way back to the edge of the water.

Placing the towel down on the ground, Balthazar carefully dipped the tip of a leg into the water.

“Oof! Nice and hot!”

Blue frowned as the crab slipped into the pool of heated water.

“What?” he asked, seeing her air of disapproval. “It’s already heated, would be a shame to let it go to waste.”

Throwing her head back, she turned around and left, looking slightly miffed.

“Bah, she’ll get over it,” Balthazar said to himself, making a dismissive gesture with his claw.

Relaxing his body and letting himself sink further down into the improvised hot spring, the crab looked up at the sky as the warmth seeped into his shell.

Balthazar was used to relaxing in the waters of his pond. Sometimes they would even be warm from the sun, but a proper hot bath was never an option for him before.

He had wondered if it was really all that good after having read humans enjoy them so much, and now that he was experiencing it for himself, he found every bit of it to be true.

The small pool of water that split from the main body of the pond was steaming from how hot it was, but the crab did not mind it. The heat felt good on his insides.

He also found the smell to be quite pleasant.

And for some reason, it was also making him a bit hungry.

“Yah-wee! Smells like steamed crab in here!”

The loud voice startled Balthazar, who was nearly falling asleep in the water.

He recognized the drunken speech as being Tristan's, and if further confirmation was needed, the drunkard gave it by appearing behind the fence of the trading post.

“Balthazar! Buddy!” the man yelled, cheerfully throwing both arms up before climbing over the fence and letting himself fall flat on the ground.

“Tristan, there’s a bell by the entrance, couldn’t you just use it?” the annoyed crab asked as he hurried out of the water and wrapped the towel around himself.

“I didn’t see no bell,” the drunk said, as he stood up with difficulty. “I couldn’t even find the entrance from before. Whole frigging place looks different! Did you do some renovations?”

“Of course I did. It was you who found me the carpenter!”

“Ooooooh! Right, yep, that sounds like something me would do.”

The man stopped and stared at the crab with a confused frown for a moment.

“Hey, why are you wearing a towel?”

“Because you interrupted me while I was in the middle of taking a bath!” Balthazar responded.

“But you’re a crab. Aren’t you always naked, anyway?”

“I… just shut up about it!” the embarrassed crab said. “Just tell me why you’re here. I hope it’s because you bring news about the market space, and not because you got lost on the way to a tavern again.”

“Uhhh… a bit of both,” Tristan said, as he followed the crab back inside the bazaar. “But yes, I do bring news about my little research.”

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“Great. Let’s hear them,” said the merchant, as he tossed the towel to the side and climbed onto his stool behind the counter.

“Oh, wow! Watch the modesty. I can totally see the underside of your shell now,” the drunk said, covering his eyes in mockery.

“Shut up and start talking,” the unamused crab said.

“Maybe it’s because I’m drunk, but isn’t that a little contradictory?”

“Oh, for fruitcakes! Just tell me what you found in town!” Balthazar yelled.

“Alright! Alright! Don’t pinch me,” Tristan pleaded. “I paid a visit to that old acquaintance of mine at the office of registries and after some charming and chatting I got a list of people who own spots in the town’s market.”

He pulled a wrinkly piece of paper from his chest pocket and unfolded it with an exaggerated flourish before presenting it to the crab.

“Good, good,” Balthazar said, glancing at the names on the list. “Now, who among those would be most willing to sell a market space?”

“This one right here.”

He wobbled in place before firmly planting a finger on the wooden surface of the counter.

Looking down at his own hand with a squint, the man tried again, that time placing the finger on the top name of the list.

“There.”

“Hmm,” said the crab. “And you’re sure this person would sell it?”

“Oh yes, absolutely,” Tristan responded, nodding. “That old lady is looking to sell all the real estate she owns except her house. Her husband died, they had no kids, and now she just wants to retire and enjoy her years with comfort.”

“And is her spot at the market not currently occupied?”

“Oh, no, no. See, she was the one using it. The couple sold jewelry together at the market, but now that he’s gone and she feels too old to continue, she’s looking to let go of it. Like I said, perfect candidate for selling.”

“Alright, this is it then,” Balthazar said. “How much coin will her space at the market cost me?”

“Wait, wait, wait,” the raggedy man said, holding both arms in front of himself. “You want to buy her market spot?”

“Yes, of course! Why else would I have sent you to do all this?” the exasperated crab said.

“Look, buddy, I’m drunk as a skunk, and even I know they would never let a giant crab into town to sell at the market. You been hitting the bottle too? Or maybe you got a little too much steam into your shell?”

“No, you idiot,” said Balthazar. “I have no interest in going to their market. I’m fine with my place down here. The stall at the market is for someone else. For a… friend.”

“No way!” Tristan exclaimed, grasping the edge of the counter with both hands to keep himself from falling. “You actually got friends?! Can I be one of them?”

Balthazar sighed loudly and rolled his eyes.

“Focus, Tristan! There’s this baker in town, Madeleine. She sells at that market too, but Antoine bought her spot, and he is hiking up her rent to get back at me.”

“Oooh, I think I get it now,” the drunk man said, scratching his cheek with a finger. “So that’s the baker that makes all your pastries, and Antoine is trying to punish you through her. Yep, that does sound like him, I will admit.”

“Exactly,” the crab said. “Now you get why I want to buy another market space, so she can move to it, and then he won’t be able to do anything about it, because I’ll be the one who owns it. And that will thoroughly piss him off for sure.”

“I like that,” the smiling drunkard said while nodding. “But wait, that still won’t work. Even if you don’t intend on using it yourself, there’s no way they will allow an outsider to just purchase a lot on the market, let alone one who isn’t even human.”

“And that, my drunken friend, is where you come in,” said Balthazar, pointing his pincer at Tristan.

“Did you just call me friend?” the surprised man asked, pointing sheepishly at himself.

“Urgh, try to pay attention, damn it!” the merchant said. “I want you to go back up there with the money and purchase the space from that lady. You’re a human and a local. Even if you’re a little… dubious in your sobriety, they will still have no reason not to allow you to own a piece of land if your money is good. The whole thing will just be a front, of course. The money will be mine and I will be the one who really owns it. You will just be representing me… without them knowing that small detail.”

“Hmm, clever,” said Tristan. “You’re starting to remind me of Antoine.”

“Now you’re just offending me,” Balthazar said.

“You’re right. At least you’re not doing this purely for selfish reasons, like everything Antoine does.”

“Yes, exactly,” said the crab, doing his best not to think of all the pastries he might lose if Madeleine’s business went under.

“Well,” the former merchant continued, “the price for the space will depend. I can try to negotiate with the old lady, but I’d never expect anything less than 2,500 gold for it.”

“That’s… that’s a lot of money,” Balthazar said, his shell deflating slightly.

“A space at the central market isn’t cheap. Hundreds of people pass through there every day.”

The crab glanced at the Bag of Holding Money tied to the side of his shell and how much it contained.

[Bag of Holding Money (9490)]

He knew he had more than enough to afford it, and that it was for a good cause, but parting with such a large sum still pained him greatly. Especially when so close to reaching ten thousand coins. Would something happen once he reached that value? Likely not, but something about reaching arbitrary round numbers gave the crab a great sense of satisfaction and fulfillment.

It was likely a very crustacean trait that humans would not understand.

Balthazar exhaled loudly as he thought of poor Madeleine, working day and night to make enough money to pay the tyrant landlord Antoine. It was a lot of coin, but he would not easily find a better use for it than that investment.

“Alright, I’ve made my decision,” the crab announced, startling the drunk, who was about to fall asleep with his head down on the counter. “I’ll give you the money and you will make the deal with this lady for the space and return here with the deed, but if you spend even a single coin—”

“Furious pincers will descend upon me, blah, blah, blah, I remember,” Tristan interrupted, rolling his eyes. “Don’t worry, I haven’t let you down yet, have I? I can be drunk out of my mind most of the time, but even like that, I’m still a better trader than most sober people. I’ll see it done.”

“Right, but it’s a lot of money, so it’s better to remind you,” Balthazar said, while fetching a few large coin pouches.

“Speaking of which,” the drunk said, rubbing his chin, “after all that investigating I did to find you this list, don’t I deserve a little reward? Like a little taste of delicious Babaurhum rum?”

“Tristan,” the crab said in a serious tone, while pinching coins from his bag and into the pouches, “I am about to give you a large chunk of my life savings, it’s a very large sum of money, you know how much it pains me to part with it? You have any idea how long it took me to make all of it? The hard work it took? And then, on top of that, you still ask me for something else?”

“But… the money isn’t really for my—”

“Are you really trying to guilt me into giving you even more?!” Balthazar blurted out, in a faked outrage. “Have you no pity on a hard working crustacean?” Tristan looked down at his own shoes, looking embarrassed. “Maybe I will give you some after you come back from this job, as a thank you, but for now I really think you don’t need to be even more drunk while carrying all this money.”

“Damn, fine, I get your point,” the defeated drunkard said. “I was really looking forward to having another taste of that sweet nectar, but I’ll wait.”

“Sure, sure,” Balthazar said, while wondering what taste did the man imagine the rum had, considering he had never actually had any of it to drink.

Finishing the money transfer, the merchant put the pouches on the counter in front of Tristan.

“Now go and make that deal, but be careful with the money, or I swear I’ll empty that whole bottle of rum into the pond right in front of you if you lose any of it.”

Tristan gasped loudly as his eyes widened and Balthazar could almost swear a small tear had formed in the corner of the man’s eye.