sampah

The sun was almost halfway to its highest point in the sky, and Balthazar had been busy propping up his goods around the pond. This crab always knew he had a knack for decoration, but he had impressed even himself today. Putting his pincers on whatever equivalent of hips a crab might have, he looked around with pride.

Two pieces of chest armor were leaning against a large boulder on the way to the shore, with two matching helmets sitting above them on the surface of the rock. Neatly lined up around a bush was a small collection of different types of shoes, each carefully stylized in their pose. Over by a fallen and hollow tree trunk that rested between the road and the water, Balthazar had displayed a select lineup of bottles in size order, from bright red potions to dense looking wines, all sitting on top of the trunk as if it were a shelf. On a clearing near the stone path, he had laid out a rug similar to the ones he sold to the necromancer, carefully displaying some of the smaller trinkets over it, such as necklaces, some crude rings, and random cutlery.

“If I could reach it, I’d be patting myself on the back.”

As Balthazar meticulously removed some bits of dirt from the edges of the rug, he heard approaching voices.

“Clients!” the crab said with excitement.

Correcting his posture and adjusting the lens in front of his left eye, Balthazar turned to face the two men approaching from town.

“Morning, fellas!” he greeted, in his best attempt at being cheerful.

“I’ll be damned. The boy wasn’t lying,” the larger of the two men said, tipping the edge of his helmet up slightly. He wore mostly steel plating over his body, of mismatched variety, much of it with visible signs of wear, and attached to his back he carried a long spear. Even with the added volume of his armor, it was clear he was a robust man, especially his face, which also had a look of not seeing any shaving for a few days. Balthazar looked at him through his monocle.

[Level 12 Spearman]

“You think there’s some kind of important meaning to a talking crab out here?” the other man said to the first. He was smaller in frame, wearing far less weight in terms of his armor, and sporting a large crossbow on his back. He had an oddly long face that reminded Balthazar of a particularly ugly fish he once saw long ago.

[Level 11 Crossbowman]

“Hey, crab, what are you doing out here?” the robust man shouted at Balthazar. “You got any quests needing doing or something?”

“You don’t need to shout,” he responded, no longer attempting to sound cheerful, “I might not make a big show out of it like you people do with your big ugly ears, but I can hear you just fine.”

“Hah! This guy’s funny, I like him already,” the large man barked, followed by some laughter, as he walked closer.

“I don’t really have anything needing doing right now. What I do have are things for sale to adventurers such as yourself, if you’re interested.”

“We just came from town,” said the fish faced man, “there’s plenty of shops there, why would we need to buy anything from you all the way out here?”

“Ah, well, you see,” Balthazar started, attempting to come up with a good response, “I have many unique goods that you will probably not find anywhere else. Like… this helmet right here!”

He directed their attention to the horned metal helmet he had spent so long placing on top of the rocks earlier that day, and that he had just now noticed was crooked again.

“Bahaha, that?” The louder adventurer laughed. “Cheap iron helmets like that are plentiful at any armorer everywhere, lad.”

“This archer boy back in town was telling everyone who’d listen to him how there was this awesome talking crab out here selling items out of his pond, but I’m starting to think you’re kind of a scam, aren’t you?” the other man said, his face really starting to give Balthazar an urge to pinch it.

“First of all, rude,” he said, doing his best to restrain himself. “And second, I take it you two are heading out into the Black Forest, are you not?”

“Yeah, what of it?” said the fish face, with an eyebrow rising.

“It’s a dangerous place, as I’m sure you two know. And I’m sure you also bought plenty of supplies in town for the trip, including…” Balthazar took a glance around at his items. “Poison cure potions, right?”

“Poison cure?” the burly man asked. “Why would we need them?”

“Ah, see, not sure if the people up there in your town are in the know about it,” Balthazar said, with a knowledgeable air, “but this time of the year the forest is crawling with giant venomous spiders.”

The crab had never so much as set foot inside the forest, it was too far away from his pond, but he was certain there would be spiders in there, and they’d surely be big too, so it’s not as if he was making things up. It was just sensible conjecture, and warning them was the right thing to do, obviously.

“Did you bring any poison cures?” the spearman hurriedly asked his partner.

“No, I didn’t know we might need any,” the crossbowman responded.

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“They grow huge over there,” Balthazar continued, casually. “Fangs bigger than my claws.”

“Damn it, you know I hate spiders, right?”

“We’re not going back into town now after making it all the way out here,” the slimmer adventurer said.

“You fellas are in luck!” Balthazar interrupted. “For I just so happen to have two bottles of Poison Cure left right here.”

Reaching towards the tree trunk, Balthazar grabbed two small bottles of a dense white liquid.

“Alright, alright, fine. How much?”

Balthazar took a moment to think. He had no idea what to ask for any of those things, and he couldn’t keep relying on telling every adventurer to make an offer. What if they try to low-ball him?

“Twenty gold each,” he finally said, hoping for the best.

“Are you crazy?” the smaller of the two exclaimed. “Those cost ten coins or less back in town.”

“You’re welcome to walk back up there and buy them then,” Balthazar said, maintaining a straight posture.

Maybe they wouldn’t even encounter any spiders on their travels, but the peace of mind of having those potions was certainly worth it. You can’t put a price on being prepared. Or, well, you could, this crab had just done that, but no price is too high to pay for things you might not need later.

“Just pay the crab and let’s go. I’ll split the cost with you,” the other told his travel companion, pulling a coin purse out of his pocket. “And get me one of those wine bottles you got there too. I’m going to need them if we’re going to encounter any spiders.”

***

Morning had passed, and Balthazar had kept busy satisfying the curiosity of the many adventurers who came down from town, investigating the rumor of a talking crab trading items out of his roadside pond. And also making them buy something whenever possible, because he was there to make business, not be a sideshow attraction.

And then there were also those who were heading back to town from their adventures, like the lady Balthazar was trying to haggle with at that moment.

“All I’m saying is,” the woman said, “what reason do I have to even trust you, crab? You’re not a real merchant like the ones in town. How do I know this isn’t a scam, or that I’m not falling for a trap, huh?”

The woman wore a simple brown dress and had messy gray hair, both in dire need of a wash. She carried a huge burlap sack on her back, and two slightly smaller ones in each of her hands, which she seemed reluctant to put down, despite how full they were and her clear struggle to carry them.

“I’m here and I got coin. How much more legitimate do you need me to be? My offer is more than fair. You should take it.”

Balthazar’s patience was running low. As much as he liked his shiny new gold coins, he was quickly realizing that soon enough he would run out of things to sell, and counting on dead adventurers filled with loot to fall from the sky around his pond would not be a reliable source of merchandise, despite the previous day’s examples.

He was going to have to invest, even if that meant buying some new junk from those passing fools. So long as he could turn it around for a profit, he would still come out on top. Give one coin with one pincer, take two with the other. It’s what he called crab economics.

“Why shouldn’t I just go into town and sell all my stuff there, like everybody else does?”

“Look,” the crab began, “of course you could do that, and they might even pay you a few more gold coins than I do. But think about it, how much is your comfort and well-being worth?”

“Are you threatening me?!”

“No! No, of course not. That’s not what I meant. But just think about it.” Balthazar moved next to the woman and turned to the uphill road. “Look at that road, at that treacherous path, all those holes and loose stones, the incline. And then look at how much weight you are carrying. It’s downright unfair that they expect hard working adventurers to make the trek up there with all your goods. And for what, a few measly extra coins? Meanwhile, here I am at the bottom of the hill, happy to provide a public service, make everybody’s life easier, and then I get accused of not being a legitimate trader? All because of what, me being a crab, is that it?”

“Oh, no, that’s not what I meant,” the embarrassed lady quickly said. “I have nothing against your kind. I mean, against crabs. I would never… I’m not like that. Some of my best friends are… well, not crabs, but you know… I just meant…”

“It’s all right, I understand,” Balthazar calmly said, one pincer softly patting her arm. “I’m sure you’re not like some other adventurers. You’re reasonable, and you can appreciate someone trying to make a living while providing a service to others.”

“Right, yes, of course. Now that you mentioned it, it is quite nice of you to set up here.”

“Exactly. I was sure we’d understand each other. Now, about all that bothersome extra weight you’re burdening yourself with…”

“Well,” the disheveled woman said, “I guess I could sell you one of these sacks, and it would make my trip up the road a bit easier. To be honest, it would be a good help. My bunions are killing me. I got blisters like you wouldn’t believe. Here, I’ll show you—”

“That’s alright, I’ll take your word for it! Let’s just stick to business,” Balthazar quickly said, stopping the woman halfway through taking her shoe off, and possibly eradicating half of the local fauna.

“Fine then, how much you said you’d give me for this sack?” she asked, landing the largest bag in front of the crab with a loud rattling sound.

“35 gold coins.”

“Ah well, I guess it beats breaking my back, taking it up to the gates. Deal.”

After giving her the money, Balthazar watched as the strange woman carried on up the road, slightly faster pace, having only two sacks over each shoulder now.

“Question now is,” he said, while looking inside the sack, “how am I going to convince someone to buy a bunch of small animal bones?!”

Deciding that was a problem for later, the straining crab dragged the sack away from the road and next to his other wares.

Moving over to his hiding hole, he brought his trading logs in front of his eyes and gleefully counted his earnings from that morning that now rested next to his scroll.

[Coin Purse (100)]

[Coin Purse (88)]

Nearly 200 gold already. He wasn’t sure how much or little that was exactly yet, but seeing the glint of all those coins was already filling him with satisfaction. And also a reinforced desire to get even more. He wanted enough shiny coins to fill a whole pond with them, enough so that he could swim in them. Not that swimming in coins would really be very comfortable or even possible. Any water-dwelling creature like him would know that wasn’t feasible. Except for ducks, maybe. A duck would be dumb enough to try it. But the point remained: he craved more of the little things.

While thinking about cravings, Balthazar felt a rumbling in his stomach. Until then, he had led a pretty lazy daily life, and starting a trading post was a lot of busy work, so while the time had flown without him noticing it, his belly sure did, and it demanded sustenance. Figuring it was time to take a short break for lunch, he started heading to his usual fishing spot.

Staring down at the tiny little fish swimming around in the water, he let out a deep sigh.

“If only one of you tasted like pie…” the crab lamented.

It had been about half a day since he sent that boy into town to fetch him the legendary baker, yet adventurers came and went, and no news so far. Could he have been swindled? Did he take the arrows and simply never looked for the baker? Or perhaps the archer had just been pulling his leg the whole time and didn’t really know anyone who produced slices of pie? After all, what are the odds some random town would have such a mythological figure within its walls?

All he knew for now was that he spent all night dreaming about that slice of pie, its texture in his mouth, the flavors, the smell. Oh, the smell of it. It was so wonderful, so captivating. He could almost feel it right there at that moment. In fact, it was so strong, so real, he realized he wasn’t just imagining it, he was actually smelling it in the air!

Turning around with a jump, eye stalks shooting forward, Balthazar smelled the surrounding air. There was no mistaking it, that was the wonderful smell he had experienced the day before, but somehow even stronger and more delicious.

Tripping over his own legs, he rushed towards the road, and looking up in the town’s direction, he saw the small frame of a girl with a basket hooked to her arm. She was a young woman, but her sun-kissed skin and slightly toned arms implied she was no stranger to labor, as did her peasant outfit, composed of simple shoes, a common white dress, and a headscarf tied above her forehead, keeping off her face any stray hairs not tied in the strawberry blonde braid that was draped down her back. She was clearly not like the adventurers Balthazar was used to seeing around. Quickly peering through his monocle, he confirmed what he already suspected.

[Level 5 Baker]

“Hello.” The girl waved at him with a friendly smile. “Are you Balthazar?”

Standing on the side of the road with a dumb expression and eyes fixated on the basket she was carrying, the crab only managed an attempt at mouthing a few words, except instead of sound, they produced small bubbles.

“Oh no, I hope I didn’t get the wrong crab.”

“No, no!” the crab shouted, snapping out of his trance. “Me, Balthazar, that’s me, yes, I’m me!”

“Oh good, I was worried there for a moment,” the girl said, smile back on her face. “I heard you were looking for a baker?”

“Yes, yes. Are you the one? Do you create… Slices of Apple Pie?”

Balthazar’s tiny eyes were shiny, like the ones of a small child pleading to their parents.

The girl looked at the crab with a blink before letting out a hearty laugh.

“Well, I do make pies, and some of them are apple pies. And I suppose I often cut them into slices too, so yes, I guess that’s me.”

“Magnificent!” Balthazar exclaimed.

“The nice man that told me about you mentioned the part about the pies, so I figured it was a good idea to bring some with me.”

Taking the wicker basket off her arm, she leaned over slightly and lifted one lid, revealing not just a slice, but an entire perfectly circular fresh apple pie.

Balthazar felt all eight of his legs going weak, but trying to hold himself together, he signaled the girl. “Not here. Come, follow me.”

Quickly crossing the water to his inner islet with the baker close behind, doing her best not to get her shoes wet—not very successfully—or fall in the water, they both sat down next to a wooden board with some recently purchased items on it that Balthazar had been sorting through.

“Can never be too careful,” he began, scouting the surrounding skies with a slightly paranoid look. “They might show up when you least expect them.”

“They?” the girl inquired, trying to look for something in the air that wasn’t there.

“Yes, the birds, tricky little beasts. Never trust one if you know what’s good for you.” He quickly changed demeanor. “But never mind them now, please, would you mind…”

His eyes were greedily staring at the basket she had laid down in front of her knees.

“Of course,” she said, with a warm smile, while opening the basket.

Pulling the plate with the pie and a knife from within it, the girl placed it on an empty area of the wooden board and carefully carved out a generous slice, its moist apple filling glistening as she brought it up from the main piece, and handed it over to the crab’s awaiting pincers.

With no hesitation, Balthazar took the tip of the triangular slice and bit into it. There were no words he could find to express the joy he felt in that moment, finally tasting that delicious treat again. It was even better than the one he had received from the adventurer, probably because this one was much fresher than the slice that, most likely, spent a couple of days or more traveling inside a bag. Each thinly sliced piece of apple covering it perfectly caramelized, its filling was the sweetest thing he had ever experienced, and even the crust was soft and the right amount of crumbly.

“Itsh justsh sho good,” Balthazar said, with his mouth full, between loud chewing. The girl smiled and chuckled at the crab, a satisfaction painted on her face despite his poor manners.

“I’m really glad you like it,” she said. “It really makes my day to watch someone truly enjoy something I made.”

“I don’t just like it, I love it!” he responded, tossing the last piece of his slice into his mouth.

“Where are my manners? I just realized I haven’t properly introduced myself,” she suddenly said, clapping her hands together. “I’m Madeleine, pleased to meet you. “

“Oh right, nice to meet you, Madeleine,” he said, while clearing the crumbs around his mouth with his pincers. “I’m Balthazar, but I suppose you already knew that.”

“Yes, your envoy told me your name,” Madeleine explained. “And that’s a very nice name, Balthazar.”

“Thanks. But may I ask you, how do you create these?”

“The pie?” she asked, looking at the plate between them. “I just bake them myself, you know, get ingredients, make the dough, add some love, put it in the oven, all that. I started when I was little. It was my grandmother who taught me.”

“Of course,” Balthazar pondered, rubbing his chin which still had some crumbs on it, “it makes sense this would be an ancient knowledge passed down through the generations and required years of practice.”

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“You’re a funny crab, you know that?” Madeleine laughed. “It’s just baking. Plenty of people do it. I’m no one special. Even in town, there are many others who bake things, pies, other cakes, bread, cookies, you name it. At most, I might be the only one who does it as her full-time job, but that’s about it.”

“You joke, surely?” the crab asked in disbelief. “There are others who produce these treasures, and there’s other varieties besides this one?”

“Of course. In fact,” the baker said, as she lifted the other lid of her basket, “I wasn’t sure which one to bring over, so I decided to bring both an apple and a pumpkin pie.”

Balthazar’s jaw dropped as he saw a second pie, this one more orange in color and with no slices of fruit covering it, emerge from the basket.

“Would you like another slice?”

“You know I do, miss baker!”

With a joyful smile on her freckled face, Madeleine served the crab a slice of pumpkin pie, before cutting a slightly smaller one for herself.

They both sat under the sparse shade of the old tree, as the water calmly rolled from the creek and across the surface of the pond, gentle ripples fading before reaching the shore, the beautiful sound of no birds singing in the air, while enjoying their treat.

“So, tell me,” she said, between small bites of her slice, “how did you discover pie in the first place?”

“Oh, you see, there were these two adventurers,” Balthazar began, between not so small bites, “and one of them wanted this sword stuck in that stone over there. So, long story short, we made a trade, his slice of pie for the sword. A sucker, that one was, I tell you.”

The girl looked at him with an amused expression of someone who wasn’t sure if he was joking or not.

“Well, alright then. That’s one way to earn a slice of pie, I guess.”

“And since then, I’ve been looking for an opportunity to ask an adventurer where I could get more of it.” Balthazar took another big chunk of pie into his mouth. “So, you’re a trader too? You sell these in town?”

“I wouldn’t call myself a trader,” she said. “I just bake my little things and then sell them for a few gold coins at my little market stand in the town square. It’s simple work, but I enjoy it.”

“Sounds like trading to me. And you work alone like me, too?”

“Yes, I do.” Her smile died down slightly, but not completely. “It used to be me and my mother. We had a much bigger market stall then, but sickness took her years ago, so now it’s just me and my pans.”

“Oh.” The crab stopped chewing, unsure how to handle the unfamiliar situation. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, she always taught me not to let bad things get me down, and I’ve been doing that ever since,” the girl said, her smile slowly returning in full. “Me and my pans, staying busy every day, baking away!”

“Glad you enjoy what you do,” Balthazar said with an attempt at a smile, as he returned to his chewing, glad to have avoided an awkward moment.

“How did you learn to speak, anyway?” asked Madeleine.

Interrupting his chewing, Balthazar did his best not to choke on the piece of pie that had just gone down a little too fast. He wasn’t exactly looking forward to the explanation of how he touched a mysterious glowing scroll taken from an adventurer who died right in front of him the previous morning.

“I, uh… just woke up like this one day.”

“Really?” she asked, surprised.

“Yep. One day I was just doing normal crab stuff, and the next I wake up and I was like this. Weird, I know, but what can ya do?”

“The gods sure work in mysterious ways,” the baker said, pensively.

“Sure do. Anyway, since then, and once I realized I needed to find more of this delicious pie, I began trading goods with passing adventurers in order to earn some coin. Which reminds me…”

Balthazar pulled out a coin purse and carefully opened it with the tips of his pincers. “How much for these?”

“Oh,” the girl said, “you really don’t have to. While I do sell my baking at the market in town most days, I can’t really bring myself to take the money of someone who went to such lengths just to taste something I baked. The whole reason I came here in the first place was because I couldn’t believe there was a talking crab asking for a pie baker, and I wanted to see it with my own eyes. Besides, you gave me an excuse to take a few hours off and come down to this beautiful pond and spend some time watching someone enjoy something I made more than I think I’ve ever seen anyone do.”

“Are you sure?” Balthazar insisted, “I really don’t want any rumors spreading around that I don’t pay for my stuff.”

“Yes, I’m sure. You can keep your money and this stays just between us. I don’t want anyone knowing I give out free pies either,” she said to him with a playful wink.

“Alright then, but just know that I’ll be wanting more of these, and next time I will be paying.”

“Yes, sir!” Madeleine said, while standing up and doing a mocking salute.

“In fact, once I have a large enough fortune, I would be very interested in paying you for the secrets of your craft.”

“The secrets of my craft?” she repeated at him, stifling her laughter. “They are just recipes. Here, if you want to get started, I’ll even lend you one of my recipe books.”

Pulling the satchel she was wearing across her torso to the front of her waist, Madeleine retrieved a thick book with a green checkered hard cover from within and offered it to the crab.

“I always carry one with me in case I get bored and want to do some reading. Don’t judge, reading cookbooks is my form of entertainment!”

Balthazar took the book into his pincers, feeling an unusual sense of humility.

“Are you sure? This must be of great value to you.”

“Don’t worry, I have piles of different recipe books back home,” she assured him with a frank smile. “Besides, this isn’t another freebie. I’m only lending you the book. You have to give it back when you’re done reading it. And you’d better take good care of it, if you get it wet I won’t be bringing you any more pie!”

“Thank you, Madeleine,” Balthazar said, with a smile.

“You’re welcome, sir crab. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got my own business to return to.”

“Of course. And remember, if you need anything from my wares, just say the word. I’ll even give you a friendly discount.”

“So we’re friends now, eh?” she said playfully. “Can’t say I ever befriended a crab before, but I’d be very happy to be your friend, Balthazar.”

“Same here, baker girl. I hope we will continue this friendship for a long and sweet time!”

As the pair crossed back to the edge of the pond, the girl stopped and looked at the assortment of items laid out on the rug.

“Hmm, you know, I do need a new wooden spoon.”

“Say no more!” Balthazar grabbed the wooden spoon that was displayed between a cracked ladle and a slightly rusty butter knife, and offered it to Madeleine. “Let’s consider this a trade for the two pies, shall we?”

“Fine with me,” she agreed, taking the spoon and putting it inside her basket.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” Balthazar said.

“I will come back in a few days for the book and the plates, and I’ll be sure to bring you something else for your sweet tooth.”

Waving his claw at the girl as she walked back up the road, Balthazar felt a sense of satisfaction he wasn’t familiar with until then. The previous day had been chaotic and full of great changes to his routine, but today was like a great pay-off, with his business plans beginning to take shape and his search for the source of delicious pie bearing fruits, he found himself excited for the coming days, and to find out what they would bring.

[Items traded. Experience gained.]

[[Wooden Spoon] traded for [Apple Pie] + [Pumpkin Pie]]

[You have reached Level 5!]

The notification startled Balthazar as it appeared, but he found himself more interested in something else instead. He was still holding the book of recipes the baker had given him, and he was wondering if even he, a crab, would ever be able to make such magical creations as the pies she had brought him today. As he opened the book to a random page and began looking through it, eyes darting from one page to the next, a frown began to form in his expression.

“I can’t read any of this!”

With a yawn and a stretch, Balthazar emerged from the sand to a brand new morning. Scratching his backside with his pincer, he lazily sidestepped to the water to wash away the sand from his eyes, followed by a quick gargle and another stretch. Still feeling slightly grumpy, he put on his monocle and picked up the recipe book Madeleine had left him the day before.

What good was a book if he could not read it? He had even gone through other books that were up for sale and they were all impossible for him to read. Attempting to look at it through his Monocle of Examination was also useless, as all it did was show him its name:

[Recipes from Grandma, Vol. 3]

But if he could read that, how come he could read nothing else? It made no sense to his crab brain, just like the characters on those pages. Perhaps he could only read things in that strange scroll’s “system” because they were exclusive to him? He had tried looking at the Scroll of Creation again, but it had remained dormant and lifeless since the day he used it, so that was of no help.

Whatever this thing that kept assaulting his eyes was, it was starting to wear out his patience with its lack of explanations.

“Where is a manager when you need one?” the grumpy crab said to himself. “Also, what is a manager, anyway?” He scratched the top of his shell in thought. “Bah, probably something useless.”

The whole thing had left Balthazar so annoyed that he hadn’t even felt like going through his level up screen the night before. He had invested so much in being “intelligent” and what good did that do for him if he couldn’t even read? Maybe if he had invested everything into more Strength he would have been able to smack the words out of the book.

He began wondering if all those attribute and skill points even really did anything, or if they were just a placebo effect. But at the same time, he then also wondered how in the world he understood what a “placebo effect” was.

“Wait!” Balthazar suddenly shouted. “Skills! Maybe there’s one that could help me.”

Bringing back up his level up screen, he quickly bumped his Intelligence to 15 and moved on to the skills menu. Scrolling his eyes up and down, looking for something that looked relevant, he suddenly stopped and smacked the side of his claw to his shell. “Of course, why didn’t I think of checking here before?”

[Reading: F]

[The ability to read and write the common language]

[Next Rank Requirements: Intelligence 6]

[Upgrade]

Having only one point to spend at that time, Balthazar pondered for a moment on whether he should spend it here. The “common language” was almost certainly the one all the adventurers and Madeleine used, as it’s so, well… common. This was clearly the right skill for what he wanted to do, but would it be worth it? As he looked at the book in front of him once more and wondered about all the potential pie secrets within, he made the decision and pressed [Upgrade] on the skill.

Waving the wall of text away with his eyes, he quickly opened the book and attempted to read from one of the pages.

“In… in great… in gradient…” Balthazar slowly muttered, with difficulty. “Ah! Ingredients!”

Readjusting his monocle, he attempted to continue through the next paragraphs.

“Flower? They eat flowers? Wait, no, it’s… flour. Huh, alright then.”

Closing the book with a loud thump after a while, the crab sighed.

“This is going to be tough. Clearly a D rank in reading barely lets me understand what I’m reading. How do the small human children do it? They must get extra skill points, I bet.”

Bringing his status page back up, he felt a slight satisfaction in easily reading through it.

[Status]

[Name: Balthazar] [Race: Crab] [Class: Choose] [Level: 5]

[Attributes]

[Strength: 3] [Agility: 2] [Intelligence: 15]

[Primary Skills]

[Medium Armor: B] [Speech: B] [Fishing: C] [Slashing Weapons: C] [Reading: D]

“That’s new,” Balthazar said, looking at the class field. He recalled seeing it there before, but it had always been marked as “undefined.” Was this going to let him define one now?

Focusing on it for a moment, a new menu popped up, not too dissimilar from the skills one, except this one seemed to list choices of classes. At the top of the long list floated a short piece of text:

[Classes unlock access to certain skills unique to their type. Certain levels of skills will also only be available to specific classes.]

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“Ooh, now you start explaining things, eh?” Balthazar exclaimed, as if talking to someone in front of him that wasn’t there. “It would have been nice if you did it from the start, you know?”

Scrolling through the many choices of class, he felt lost as to what to pick. There were typical ones, like [Archer], [Fighter], or [Wizard], but also things like [Alchemist], [Miner], and even [Sailor], but none of them seemed like a proper fit for a crab like him. He tried thinking what his talents were, and looking around, he concluded he had been showing a good sense for trading, selling and buying things, making deals, and that’s when he saw a class that caught his eye.

[Merchant]

[Specializes in trading, can sell and buy things for better prices, as well as start their own merchant business.]

“That’s it, that’s my pick!” Balthazar said, one pincer stretched forward.

Confirming his selection, the screen returned to the status page, where it now showed [Class: Novice Merchant].

“A novice, is it? Not for long, funny words in my eyes. Not for long.”

***

The day had been quieter than Balthazar was hoping, with few clients passing by. He had hoped that the rumors started by the archer boy the day before would have spread and attracted people curious about a talking crab trading things on the side of the road, but today there had been very few adventurers coming down from town heading to the forest or the plains.

One possible explanation was the fact that Ardville also had another gate facing west, with roads leading both west and southwest, which was apparently much busier than the south one, as he had learned from an adventurer who stopped by and bought a couple of trinkets. Since there wasn’t much else other than the Black Forest to the south, not as many people came that way.

Taking advantage of the quiet afternoon, Balthazar had tried picking up on his reading skill, making it a few pages into Madeleine’s recipe book before realizing he had no idea how most of what it described worked. He had always just eaten his food as it was, pick it up, put in mouth, eat. Simple.

But these humans had entire rituals around their food preparation. They took things out of it, they added others, they heat it up, then cool it down, they cut it, then they mix it back together. It was madness to him. Why would anyone spend so much time playing with their food like that?

But he also kept remembering the end result that was Madeleine’s pies, so maybe there was a good reason behind it after all. He still couldn’t conceive of ever doing half of the stuff described, however. Maybe cracking walnuts, that step he could see himself doing better than any human.

Accepting that his calling was in coin making, he came to terms with leaving the baking to true artisans like Madeleine, and focus himself on gaining more money, in order to get more pies. He was going to earn that dough!

There were still a few other books lying around that he could now understand, so he put himself to reading the ones that sounded like they’d teach him useful information, such as a book with the local history of the area, a financial journal, and even a “Guide to Windmill Maintenance.” That last one wasn’t particularly useful to him, but it had lots of drawings and figures, which he liked.

It was while deep in one of his reading moments that Balthazar heard a horse trotting up the road. Putting his book down, he moved over to the entrance of his pond and watched as a robust brown horse approached, pulling an open two-wheeled cart behind, surrounded by two adventurers slowly walking alongside it, plus another in front of the horse, leading it with one hand on the reins. All with tired expressions on their faces, mud and other unknown forms of goo splattered all over their armors and vestments. They were all different classes of adventurer, the one at the front was level 14, while the other two were level 12. The horse was just level 3.

Seeing the leading adventurer hold his step and clutch the hilt of his sword when noticing the large crab staring at them on the side of the road, Balthazar quickly broke the tension. “Hail, adventurers. Nice day for a stroll, ain’t it?”

While he thought his attempts at being friendly could still do with some more work, Balthazar was relieved to see the man relax his hand from the sword.

“Oh, that’s right,” the man said, in a casual but tired tone, “I heard about a talking crab on this road. Guess that’s you.”

“Sure am,” the crab confirmed. “And not just a talking crab, but a merchant too, in fact.”

“Merchant, is it?” said one of the other two adventurers as they both joined at the front of the cart to see the crab. “Sell us a couple of nice beds, would you?”

“Ah, yes, I certainly would, if I had any, but I’m afraid I’m fresh out. I might be interested in buying some of the loot you fellas have there, though.”

“Loot?” said the front man. “It’s not loot we’re carrying back to town, crab.”

“It’s not?” Balthazar asked, with curiosity, while stepping around the cart to look at its back.

“No, just these two,” the man continued.

The back of the cart had its lid dropped open, and two pairs of legs could be seen hanging from it, feet almost dragging on the road. Raising himself higher on his legs, Balthazar looked at the two men lying on the cart. One had a protruding belly, sticking out of his suit of very worn out armor, and the other a face that resembled an ugly fish, covered in scratches. He recognized them from the day before.

“Are they… dead?”

“Nah,” said the third member of the group, while holding two fingers in front of the crossbowman’s nostrils. “Still breathing. Just passed out and pretty banged up.”

“What happened to them?”

“They got more than they bargained for,” said the leader. “Went deep into the forest and got ambushed by some giant spiders.”

“Yeah, lucky we found them when we did,” continued one of the other two, “or they might not have made it.”

“Also,” added the third adventurer, “lucky for them they had those poison cure potions with them, or they’d be two shriveled up corpses right now.”

The man signaled towards two empty bottles sitting in the cart’s corner. Balthazar recognized them as the two potion bottles he sold the pair the previous day.

He wondered to himself what were the odds that the story he made up on the spot about poisonous spiders in the forest in order to sell them the potions would turn out to be accurate. Pretty high, apparently.

“Yeah, in fact,” the higher level adventurer said to the other two, “didn’t the big guy say they bought them on the road on their way there while he was still conscious?”

“That’s right, he did say that,” confirmed one of the two companions. “Even scolded the other one for trying to complain about their price.”

“There are no other traders down here,” the man said, turning to Balthazar, “did they get those potions from you, crab?”

“That they did,” the crab responded, while adjusting his monocle and assuming a respectable pose. “Those two passed through here yesterday. I warned them the forest was full of dangerous spiders, they didn’t want to listen at first, but I convinced them to take the potions, nearly forced them into their hands for free, just because I didn’t want the worst to happen, as apparently it nearly did.”

“I’ll be damned,” said one of the two lower levels, “saved by a talking crab, who would have thought? That was mighty noble of you.”

“What’s your name, crab?” the leader asked. “I’ll be sure to put in a good word for you with the Adventurer’s Guild once we get back in town and drop those two off at the healer. They need to know there’s a good merchant down here.”

“The name’s Balthazar,” the crab announced, puffing his front up. “And any adventurer coming this way is welcome to trade with me. I’ve got the best deals for their journey, guaranteed.”

As the cart continued its way up the road towards the gates, Balthazar saw a new notification coming up.

[Adventurer’s Guild Reputation +1]

Balthazar had no idea until that moment that there was some kind of reputation system, and he also wasn’t yet sure how he had managed to stumble into the good graces of the Adventurer’s Guild so easily, but he knew that if he had any hands in that moment, he would be rubbing them together.

“Can’t you do at least 15 gold?”

“10 is all you’re going to get, pal.”

“Come on, man, this is an alpha wolf pelt. It’s definitely worth it.”

“I know very well this is a common wolf pelt. It’s 10 gold, and if you try to fool me again, it will be nothing at all.”

Balthazar adjusted his monocle with the top of his claw as he looked the clearly novice adventurer over. Most of them knew better than to haggle with a stubborn crab, but there would always be some that needed to learn the hard way.

His reputation boost with the Adventurer’s Guild was proving fruitful, as more of them were choosing to drop by during their outings, to check his wares, or sell their excess loot. But with more customers also came the annoyance of “newbies,” as he heard higher level adventurers call them.

“Come on, at least do 12 gold, that’s what they’d pay for it up in Ardville,” the young adventurer insisted.

This one was only level 3 and was desperate for coin, after apparently having spent all of his money buying the huge mace hanging next to his hip from a shop in town, despite not meeting the required Strength to actually use it.

“Then why don’t you go sell it there?” the crab asked, with a glance.

“Because, well…” the boy started, while rubbing the back of his neck and looking down at his own feet. “I’m trying to stay away from the market for at least a couple of days. Let things cool down a little. I… may have accidentally failed a seduction attempt on the blacksmith’s daughter.”

“Yeah, sounds to me like it’s going to be 10 gold then,” the crab declared, with a hint of smugness.

“Oh, fine!” the adventurer finally conceded. “You’re terrible, you know? And on top of it all, I had to get my boots all wet just to get here.”

Balthazar handed him the ten gold coins and watched the young adventurer splash his feet as he walked away from the inner islet. He had a point, and he wasn’t the first one to complain about it. Many of the clients had brought up the inconvenience of having to skip over slippery wet rocks in order to do business with him. While it did allow him to sell at least a couple of pairs of dry socks, it wasn’t really a good look.

Looking around at his pond, he also realized things were getting out of hand in terms of his inventory management. He purchased a large, heavy iron chest a group of adventurers were carrying from some local dungeon, and was now using it as storage for his gold coins, leaving just his old belongings and the Scroll of Character Creation in his previous hiding hole. But that hardly mattered for the many larger items he now had scattered all over his home. He needed better organization, storage, and also some more convenient access to his central spot.

Skittering around his piles of random goods, Balthazar picked out some basic materials and brought them over to where his chest was, under the central tree. He knew eventually rain would come, and that would be a problem for some of his products, so he figured some form of shelter would be necessary.

Carefully balancing it between his claws, he upheld a wooden stake about as tall as an adult human, and firmly stuck the pointy end into the soft soil. After repeating the process another three times, making a square of wooden stakes, Balthazar unfolded a large tarp and awkwardly attempted to throw it over the construction. A few pulls and corrections later, he stepped back and looked at the result of his efforts. The stakes were at uneven heights, as well as not entirely straight, the tarp was dragging on the ground on one side, but leaving the opposite area partially exposed to the sky, and while attempting to lay it out, Balthazar had accidentally made a tear in the fabric with his claw, leaving a large hole in it.

[Item crafted. Experience gained.]

[[Makeshift Shelter] created.]

[You have reached level 6!]

“That’s very funny, ha-ha,” Balthazar said, with a blank expression, as one of the stakes holding up his improvised tent fell, bringing the whole structure down on itself.

“This is a waste of my talents.” He sighed, while opening up his level up screen. “I’m clearly not made for this kind of manual labor.”

Seeing as most of the skills relevant to his Merchant class were related to Intelligence, he had decided to continue putting points into that for the time being. After increasing his Intelligence from 15 to 16, he moved on to the skills screen, eager to upgrade his Reading skill from a D to a C rank.

“Hopefully this will let me read faster than before,” Balthazar said, while picking up the geography book he had started on earlier.

Looking at each of the words on the page, he found them coming together and making sense much more easily, only stumbling on those with many syllables.

He also noted he now understood what a syllable was, despite not recalling ever hearing about it. He figured that’s just what being intelligent was like. He just knew stuff naturally, because learning was so last week.

Closing the status screen and tossing the ruined tarp and stakes to the side, he began contemplating the area between the islet he was on and the edge of the pond leading to the road. Some kind of bridge would be ideal, so that his clients could walk across without getting wet. He didn’t understand their aversion to water, but who could understand humans, anyway?

Going through some more of his materials, he picked up some wooden boards he had bought recently. They would make for a decent floor, but not as they were now. Eyeing the hacksaw next to him with suspicion, and then his own pincers, he dropped the wooden boards and turned around to return to his book. “Nope, not even gonna try that.”

***

Flipping the last page of his book, Balthazar slammed it shut with satisfaction. While it wasn’t very fluent yet, he could tell his reading had improved considerably. So much, in fact, that he would soon run out of books to read, and would need to rely on adventurers returning to town from their exploring with more.

Taking the book in his claw, the crab crossed the water to the front of the pond and placed it next to all the others he had neatly displayed in a row over the rug with the trinkets and baubles. Looking up at the sky, Balthazar was pleased by the lack of birds, even if it made him feel a little suspicious.

They had been very absent lately, and while he would like to believe it was because of some kind of migration, or simply because of all the new commotion around his pond, his instinct told him they must have been up to something, perhaps something nefarious.

As he pictured dozens of songbirds descending upon his home to pick up his storage chest and fly away with it, something caught his attention in the distance. A small black dot on the horizon, approaching from the plains.

Shaking off some grains of sand from the edges of the rug and readjusting his monocle, Balthazar readied himself to greet his potential new client. But as the figure became clearer in the distance, he began having a feeling of slight unease growing inside him.

It was a man, straight posture and determined walk, all his clothing black, from his expensive looking shiny boots to his silk shirt, covered over the shoulders by a long cloak, dark as a moonless night. Standing out from all the darkness of his clothing was his long straight hair, of a nearly white silver color, despite his still young facial features, which surrounded two piercing icy blue eyes.

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As he approached, Balthazar looked at him through his monocle.

[Level 19 Dark Mage]

Whoever this Dark Mage was, he radiated an aura of dread that made Balthazar uncomfortable. But he was still a merchant, and not one about to be intimidated out of a possible business transaction. After all, this guy looked like he could afford expensive stuff.

“Good day to you, mister. Would you perhaps be interested in some charmed necklaces?” Balthazar said, with one arm stretched towards the items on display over his rug.

The mage looked down at the crab from the corner of his eye, without even turning his head, and with a slight scoff, continued walking.

“I have many things that could be of use to a mage such as yourself,” Balthazar persisted. “Mana potions, a few enchanted rings, perhaps this Tome of Levitation?”

Coming to a sudden halt, the man raised his black gloved hand, as if signaling to someone behind him to hold.

“Did you say you have a Tome of Levitation?” he asked, with a clear, calm, yet commanding voice.

Intrigued by his gesture and the noises coming from behind his cloak, Balthazar leaned slightly and saw a small figure, its head barely the same height as the mage’s waist, very thin, almost skin and bone, the skin of a grayish green tone, large pointy ears, wearing only a pair of ragged pants, and holding a large sack on his back. It was a goblin.

“I asked you a question, crab,” the man said, a hint of impatience and irritation in his voice now.

“Yes… yes, that’s right, I got one right here,” Balthazar said, pointing at his selection of books, but still more interested in the creature behind the man.

He had seen goblins before, rarely, they mostly lived in caves, or deep in the forest, and avoided places where adventurers dwell, but there had been a couple of times in the past where Balthazar had been bothered by young goblins throwing rocks at his shell from up a cliff behind his pond, before running away laughing as he snapped his claws threateningly at them. They were wild and primitive creatures that lived in small tribes, and weren’t particularly liked by anyone, but something about this goblin seemed different.

He was smaller, despite not being a child, and he seemed weak, almost emaciated, with a miserable look on his face, probably in part because of the massive weight of the sack he was struggling to hold on his back with both hands. As he shifted the weight on his shoulders slightly, a thick black iron collar became visible around his neck, with runes engraved on its surface. Balthazar scanned the goblin through his monocle and saw he was only a level 3.

“Let me see that,” the Dark Mage demanded with an outstretched hand.

“Say, that’s a peculiar traveling companion you have there,” Balthazar said, while handing the tome to the man.

“That? It’s just a goblin I collected off the side of a road a few weeks ago, to carry my things. Stupid thing can’t even fight.” The silver-haired man was scanning the cover and back of the tome, as if looking for signs of it being a fake. “I’ll give you 100 gold for this.”

Balthazar pondered for a moment, his eyes still on the goblin, who seemed ready to collapse to his knees at any moment.

“Tell you what, it doesn’t seem like you have much use for the little guy anymore,” the crab finally said. “Why don’t you trade me the goblin and the tome is yours?”

“This pathetic thing?” the mage said, with a mocking disbelief. “He’s barely good for carrying things anymore. I doubt I’d keep him for much longer. You can have him.”

The Dark Mage snapped his fingers, and the collar dropped to the ground, open. As it did, the goblin immediately fell to his hands and knees, letting go of the loot sack.

“You belong to the crab now, understood?” the man said, while picking up the collar and handing it to Balthazar.

“No thanks, the deal was just for the goblin, you can keep that.”

“Suit yourself,” the mage responded with an arrogant look, as he pocketed the collar and scanned through the first pages of his new tome.

“And do me a favor. Don’t cast that on yourself anywhere near my place, will you?” Balthazar said. “I don’t want you falling to your death and devaluing my products.”

The Dark Mage looked at the crab with a disdainful scoff, but didn’t respond. Finishing his quick scanning of the tome’s pages, he threw it inside the bag and snapped his fingers once again, this time causing the bag to lift itself off the road, hovering in place, before steadily following behind the man as he walked away.

Turning to the goblin that had now stood back up to his feet, Balthazar approached him slowly. “Hey there. You alright? Need anything?”

“Thirsty!” the goblin pleaded, with a raspy voice.

“There’s a pond right over there. You can drink from it.”

With surprising speed, the goblin dashed to the edge of the water and fell to his knees, desperately using both hands as cups to bring water to his mouth and drink.

“It’s alright, there’s plenty of it and it’s not going anywhere,” the crab said, walking up to where the goblin ran. “There’s some jerky in the crate over there too if you want it once you’re done. Sure looks like you need it.”

“Yes, yes,” the goblin said, gasping for air between large gulps of water, “silver man evil, give no food!”

The creature seemed capable of understanding basic human tongue just fine, as Balthazar expected, even if his speech appeared somewhat limited.

The crab wasn’t particularly fond of goblins. Or anyone else, for that matter. But while 100 gold was a lot of money, it would pale in comparison to what a pair of opposable thumbs could do for his trading spot in the long run. And he also found starving someone while forcing them to work for you to be particularly distasteful. If you’re going to work someone to the bone, at least keep them fed, so they last longer. That’s just common sense.

“You got a name, goblin?”

“Yes, yes,” the small creature responded, standing back to his feet. “Druma!”

“That’s… a name, I guess. Nice to meet you, my name is Balthazar,” the crab said, while the goblin took some slices of beef jerky from the crate and began eating them ferociously. “Would you be interested in a job as my assistant, Druma? Great conditions, competitive pay. Mainly food, but you seem to need that.”

“Druma no have tribe no more,” the goblin started, while nodding his head between chewing. “Crab free Druma from evil man. If crab give Druma meat, Druma follow crab now.”

“That sounds like a fair deal to me,” said Balthazar, as a prompt appeared in front of his eyes.

[Add Druma to your party?]

[Yes | No]

“Why the hell is this system throwing me a surprise party?!”

Another morning began, and Balthazar was up and ready to start his day. Druma had spent the night sleeping on a small stack of hay covered with a discarded tarp, with a belly full of meat, which had shown an effect on him already, as his skin looked a more vivid green, and even his ribs seemed less protruding than the night before.

While he knew the goblin needed a good night’s rest to regain his strength, Balthazar also didn’t plan on spending precious food he could sell to adventurers on a lazy assistant that didn’t help him at all.

“Time to wake up, meat lover,” Balthazar said, while holding two pieces of beef jerky next to his new assistant’s bulbous nose.

The goblin lazily rubbed his eyes as he stood up from his makeshift bed, looking around for the source of the smell.

“Like I told you yesterday, you’re not a slave anymore, and I’ll give you food and let you stay here, but you will have to be willing to work for it.”

“Yes, yes,” Druma agreed, nodding vigorously as he took the jerky.

“So, come with me,” said Balthazar, while stepping closer to the shallowest part of the pond, where he left some wooden boards. “See these planks? I want you to build a walkway over this water, so we don’t have to step on the rocks to cross here. Got it?”

The goblin stared at the planks with his mouth slightly open, half chewed pieces of meat still in it, while scratching the top of his hairless head.

“What crab want??” the confused goblin finally asked.

Balthazar let out a deep sigh. He knew it would not be easy, but he still had some hope the goblin would at least understand enough to try. He had hands, surely he would do a better job than someone with pincers for fingers ever could.

Bringing up his status screen, he checked his party page again. As he had learned the previous day, the two of them could form a party (which did not involve any cake, much to Balthazar’s disappointment), and that linked them into the same group. He could now freely see the goblin’s stats, and they weren’t particularly impressive.

[Party Members]

[Name: Druma] [Race: Goblin] [Class: None] [Level: 3]

[Attributes]

[Strength: 2] [Agility: 4] [Intelligence: 2]

He couldn’t help but notice the fact that the screen showed no skills. Could it be because the goblin was too low level? Could he even level up?

Balthazar had even taken the Scroll of Creation during the night and attempted to poke the sleeping goblin’s hand with it, just out of curiosity, but the scroll remained dormant as it had been since the first day.

“If only you were a little bit more intelligent, buddy, maybe you’d understand things beyond basic commands, eh?”

The goblin tilted his head and gave the crab a bemused look as he gnawed on his piece of jerky.

“More intelligence!” Balthazar suddenly shouted. “That’s it!”

Rushing towards a pile of mixed clothing he had been slowly amassing and promising himself he’d soon fold, the crab frantically searched through it until he found an old pointy gray hat. The same one the fallen wizard had been wearing before his untimely death.

“Here, you have a proper head, unlike me. Try putting this on, Druma.”

The goblin gave him an even more confused look, but obliged, taking the Hat of Enlightenment with both hands and putting it on. It fit around his large head, despite still looking quite oversized for how small the rest of him was.

Seeing no visible changes, Balthazar looked at the status screen again.

[Party Members]

[Name: Druma] [Race: Goblin] [Class: None] [Level: 3]

[Attributes]

[Strength: 2] [Agility: 4] [Intelligence: 2 (+2)]

The number was there, and the hat hadn’t automatically fallen off like it did with Balthazar, but would it make enough of a difference?

“Druma,” he called, breaking the goblin’s attention away from his last bit of meat, “can you try to build a path with these planks from here to the other side?”

The goblin looked at the wood, and then at the space between their side of the water and the shore by the entrance before nodding. “Druma will build, boss!”

With a quick step to it, the goblin began laying out the wooden boards and moving small rocks around, preparing his work place.

It worked. Or at least it seemed like it would. Who knows how good a goblin is at building bridges. But for now Balthazar was satisfied with his progress, and so he started heading out to the side of the road, where the first adventurers of that morning were already approaching.

***

Balthazar looked up at the sky. The sun had just begun its way down from its highest point, which, according to the strange clicking device a peculiar mage had traded him that morning, meant it was just past midday.

He figured whatever kind of magic was in his Monocle of Examination must have been like what this item had. Except it must allow it to look at the sun’s position from behind its glass, instead of items or people, hence why they call it a “watch.” Clearly, not even their mysterious arcane artifacts were a match to his superior intellect anymore.

Deciding he would still put it up for sale, Balthazar laid out the small watch next to his other trinkets and pieces of jewelry. After all, why would he need it when he could look up at the sun and tell the time just fine?

If it was night and there was no sun, then it meant it was sleep time, and he had no need to know the time while sleeping. And if it was just too cloudy or rainy to see the sun, then it meant it was nap time, which also didn’t require knowing the time. Crabs had it all figured out, and humans were silly. That was the lesson to learn there.

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Turning to his pond, Balthazar was impressed with Druma’s work. He might be small, but he was quite nimble and willing to work.

After spending all morning working a stone foundation and nailing wooden boards, the unlikely assistant had constructed a reasonably sturdy walkway from the edge of the pond all the way to the inner isle, eliminating the need to wade through water, or jump from stone to stone.

The goblin was now doing his best to drag a large wooden stake around the central area in front of the old tree, preparing to make the shelter Balthazar had attempted—and failed—to create before.

It had somewhat of a comedic aspect to it, watching a scrawny goblin in ragged pants going around doing manual labor while wearing a large wizard hat. But whatever got the job done, Balthazar figured.

Turning around to move some boxes away from the road, the crab saw a familiar figure coming down from town. The white attire, long braid dropped over her shoulder, and the large wicker basket in hand filled Balthazar with excitement.

“Madeleine!” he greeted loudly, vigorously waving one claw at her.

“Hello again, mister crab,” she responded, with an open smile.

Carefully grabbing them from behind some rolled up towels, Balthazar offered two plates on top of a book to the baker. “I washed them for you. The plates, of course! Not the book.”

“Thank you, that’s nice of you,” Madeleine said, with a laugh, as she received the three objects. “I knew they would be in good hands. Well, good pincers.”

Putting the plates and book in her basket, she opened the other lid and retrieved something flat and circular, of beige color, with browned edges, and covered in what looked like fine white sand.

“Try this,” she offered.

“What is it?”

“It’s a cookie. A butter cookie. Go on, give it a taste.”

Intrigued, Balthazar held the small and fragile cookie in his pincers. It smelled quite nice once it was closer to him, just not as intense as the pies. He gave it a nibble, and tiny pieces of it crumbled in his mouth, less dry than he expected from their texture. The sandy substance covering it was very sweet, and he suspected it to be what the recipe book had listed as “sugar.”

“This is very good,” Balthazar finally said, with a thoughtful expression, while shoving the rest of the cookie in his mouth.

“But…?” Madeleine said, with an eyebrow raised.

“But I could see myself eating many of these in a day, and they are… well… kind of small, compared to a pie.”

The girl laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. “Oh, you are a funny crab. These are cookies. You don’t bake just one of them at a time like pies.”

Reaching into her basket, Madeleine retrieved a large glass jar, filled all the way to the top with many cookies identical to the one Balthazar had just eaten.

“Oooooh, my baker,” the crab exclaimed, with an expression of awe at the transparent jar held in front of him. “Are these all for me?”

“Sure, I brought them for you. But it seems like you’ve been busy making more friends?”

Madeleine was looking over the crab’s shell at the goblin wrestling a tarp by the tree.

“Oh, that’s right,” Balthazar said, breaking away from his jar gazing. “You haven’t met him yet.”

Signaling the girl to follow him, he crossed the small bridge and called for the goblin. “Hey, Druma, you can take a break now. Come over here.”

Putting his stone hammer down, the goblin readjusted his hat and wiped the sweat off his forehead as he joined them.

“This is Madeleine. She is the nice baker I told you about earlier, remember? And Madeleine, this is Druma, my new employee. He started this morning.”

“Well, hello there, Druma. I would say I’m surprised to meet a friendly goblin, but after meeting a talking crab, I think nothing shocks me anymore. That’s a nice hat you have there, by the way.”

“Thank. Boss give Druma hat. Druma feel more smart with hat,” the goblin said, with a wide grin, while tapping his feet in place.

“That was nice of you,” Madeleine said to Balthazar. “How did you two meet? I’ve never seen goblins come anywhere near this area, and something tells me you didn’t go out there and start looking for friends.”

“I just traded some old tome for him with a rich guy,” Balthazar responded with a casual shrug.

“What do you mean?” Madeleine asked, puzzled. “You bought him? Like a slave?!”

“Silver man very bad!” Druma interjected. “He starve Druma. Hurt Druma. Make Druma carry stuff. Crab boss make silver man free Druma with magic book. Druma work for crab boss now. Boss let Druma have meat and sleep. Druma like to build. Druma happy now.”

Madeleine stared at the goblin with an expression of pity and concern. “Oh, I’m so sorry that happened to you, Druma. I didn’t know. No creature should ever be treated like that. But what about family? Don’t you have anyone to go back to? A tribe?”

“No.” The goblin tilted his head down slightly, the rim of his hat covering part of his face as he stared at his own feet. “Old tribe boss send Druma away. Say Druma too small. Too weak. Good for nothing. Big goblins throw Druma out into forest. Food for spiders. Then silver man find Druma. Put iron thing around neck.” He rubbed the side of his neck, a noticeable shiver running through him.

“I can’t imagine what you have been through,” Madeleine said, in a low and plaintive voice, while placing a hand on the goblin’s shoulder. “Nobody deserves that. And I hope that now that you are free, you will find new joy in doing what you love. Whether it’s building or annoying a cranky crab.” She gave him a sincere smile, and the goblin did his best to return it as he let go of his neck.

“You know what you are?” The baker turned back to Balthazar, who had been quiet so far, unsure of what to say. “You are a big softie. Under that hard shell and grumpy mood, you are softer than the butter I use for my baking.”

Balthazar looked up at the branches of the tree. Seemed like the weather was going to hold. Perhaps a bit windy. Maybe he should wash some clothes later.

“Did your new assistant make this bridge, too?” Madeleine asked him, seeing his attempt at looking distracted. “I don’t remember it being here last time. It’s pretty nice work.”

“Yes,” Balthazar quickly said, thankful for the change of subject. “Turns out he’s pretty handy with these things.”

“You know,” Madeleine began, with a sly tone, “your employee seems to have been working really hard all morning. Don’t you think he deserves something?”

“What?” Balthazar responded, confused. “Oh, you mean the cookies? But I thought they were just for—”

Madeleine gave the crab’s shell a nudge with her elbow. It didn’t physically hurt, but it still caused some pain. To his spirit.

“Oh, alright,” Balthazar conceded. “Would you like to try a cookie, Druma?”

The baker opened the lid of the jar and took out a cookie, offering it to the goblin.

“Meat?” Druma asked, while sniffing the air around the strange new thing being held in front of him. “No meat! Bah! Sweet! Druma no like sweet!”

The goblin pulled away as if he was afraid of the cookie, while making a bitter face and sticking his tongue out in disgust.

“Hey, that’s rude!” Balthazar scolded.

“It’s alright. He doesn’t like sweet things. Don’t worry, I will find a way to win him over,” Madeleine said, with a wink.

“Well, fine. You should go have a lunch break now,” Balthazar said to the goblin. “There are some cured meats over by the sacks over there. Just don’t eat my whole supply.”

Druma happily made his way to his lunch, licking his lips.

“Your business is growing well, I see,” Madeleine said, looking around. “You got lots of… stuff.”

“Yes, these adventurers might be a nuisance sometimes, but they’re also an endless source of, well, stuff.”

“Come now, they’re not that bad, really. Most of them are nice people. Plus, they help complete all sorts of jobs and save the town from dangers all the time.”

“Look at you. Someone’s an adventurer fan girl, eh?” Balthazar teased, nudging her leg with one claw, while grabbing a butter cookie with the other.

“Don’t be like that,” Madeleine said, still smiling. “I just think things were worse back before they started showing up. Roads were more dangerous with wild animals, people would be taken by bandits, or worse things, and even inside the city walls, we weren’t always safe. Now, at least, there’s someone fighting back and actually making a difference.”

“Yeah, and greedily looting everything that isn’t nailed down while they’re at it,” said the crab, with his mouth full of cookie. “They just start showing up one day, solving everybody’s problems, going around doing quests, or whatever. Where did they all come from, anyway?”

“I’m not sure anyone really knows. Some say they came from across the ocean, heroes from a land far away and very different from ours. Others believe they are champions of the gods, sent down before times of great need.”

The girl shrugged and took a cookie into her mouth. “I don’t really know. All of it is way above my pay grade. But never mind that. Why don’t you tell me what you’ve been up to around here?”

***

The goblin was lying on his back, his hat still on his head, partially covering his eyes, mouth open, a protruding belly stretching the waist of his pants. Balthazar himself felt the calling of a good nap, after having stuffed himself with cookies while chatting with the baker girl.

“Right, I think my lunchtime is over,” Madeleine said, standing up. “I’ve got lots of orders to prepare back home.”

“Wait, wait. I said I’d pay you next time, and this is next time,” Balthazar said, while fetching a small coin purse.

“No, really, Balthazar, I don’t feel right taking your money. I enjoy the walk down here, and the time spent at this beautiful pond.”

The crab gave her the side eye.

“I even enjoy our conversations, despite your grumpiness, if you can believe that,” the girl joked.

“You can’t just keep giving your products away for free, that’s no way to run a business. Trust me, I would know, I’m a merchant!” Balthazar said, leaving the novice portion out.

“Alright, fine. How about we do like last time? I really need a new bowl to mix my ingredients, and since I got here, I’ve been eyeing the one you have over there.” She pointed at a large bowl resting on top of the fallen tree trunk next to some potions. “What do you say, my cookies for the bowl, and next time I’ll bring something made in it?”

“Girl, if I wasn’t so full and ready to fall asleep, you wouldn’t be walking out of here without a good haggling. But have it your way, the bowl it is.”

“Much obliged!” the young girl said, with a smile and a twirl, grabbing the bowl on her way out. “See you next time, Balthazar. Bye, Druma!”

The goblin only managed to briefly raise an arm in a wave before dropping it and falling back into his food coma.

“That premium quality cured ham was worth at least 50 gold. That goblin better build a goddamn castle around the pond once he wakes up.”

It was another sunny summer morning at Balthazar’s pond, and the crab prepared himself for another day of trading by happily munching on a butter cookie.

Druma had already chomped down his own breakfast and was hard at work assembling another set of makeshift shelving, the wizard hat still firmly fit around his head. Despite still being quite small, even by goblin standards, he was beginning to bulk up, looking considerably less skinny and becoming slightly toned, thanks to all the hard labor and the plentiful meals of meat he kept having every day. While costly, Balthazar would have a hard time denying it was a good investment, as the goblin’s work around the place was becoming very noticeable.

There was a footpath between the shore and the center islet, which itself contained a large tented area, with the heavy iron chest where the gold was stashed at the back, an exquisite rug at the center where Balthazar rested, as well as sacks and crates with food on each side.

The small assistant had also finished crude tables and shelves to better organize and display the items for sale, slowly reducing the clutter around the place, and bringing organization to the trading post.

“Hey, Druma,” Balthazar called. “I’ll be out here by the road. The morning’s pretty hot, so don’t forget to take some breaks.”

“Yes, yes, boss!” the goblin responded, while nodding vigorously, before turning back to his hammering.

As Balthazar reached the side of the road, an adventurer was already approaching, with a bag over his shoulder.

“Morning,” the man said. “You open for business yet?”

“I’m always open, if the business is worth making. What can I do for you today?”

“I’ve been making my way back to town all night, and I’m pretty spent. I sure would like a stamina potion or two right now, if you got some for sale?”

“Ah, unlucky, I’m fresh out at the moment,” Balthazar said, while discreetly using one of his back legs to push a crate full of shiny green potion bottles behind a stack of bigger boxes, and out of sight.

“Dang it, just my luck,” the adventurer said.

It was not as if Balthazar didn’t want to sell the stamina potions he had, it was just that he had quickly learned adventurers returning from their travels will feel much more inclined to sell some of their heavy loot to him there if they’re exhausted and about to head uphill to the town gates.

“Unfortunate indeed,” Balthazar said, attempting to sound sympathetic. “I could always help you out by giving you a good deal for some of that loot you got there, so you at least lighten the load before heading up the road.”

“Sure, I guess I could drop some weight. Let’s see here…”

The adventurer began searching through his bag, a loud clanking coming from within it.

“No, not this. Not that either. I need it for crafting later. Maybe… nope, that’s a quest item. Aha! This is pretty heavy, and it’s not like I really need it.”

Pulling his hand out of the bag, the adventurer revealed a large block of metal. Looking it over with his monocle, Balthazar identified it.

[Iron Ingot]

“Hmm, interesting,” the crab said, looking the nearly perfect slab of solid metal over closely. “I see adventurers with pieces of iron ore often, but not ingots.”

“Yeah, I got this off a bandit hideout, was a pretty tough fight.”

“I’ll give you 20 gold for it. How’s that?”

“Sure, I’ll take that. I don’t even use iron weapons anymore. What am I going to upgrade with it, anyway?”

As the adventurer took off on his way up the road, Balthazar pondered on what he had said. Upgrade. What exactly could he mean by that? The thought of asking occurred to him, but then he’d be risking sounding dumb if it turned out to be something really basic. And he can’t have other adventurers catching rumors about him being an uneducated crab with very little knowledge of the world outside his pond. Sure, he might be exactly that, but he wasn’t about to admit to it, was he?

Looking up at the sky, Balthazar saw a handful of dots circling above. Damnable birds were back, it seemed. Probably looking for food, the lazy freeloaders. Trying to ignore them and not let it ruin his mood, he focused back on his new item.

Holding the ingot with both pincers, he noticed how heavy it was, and wondered what use could something like that have. It wasn’t even all that shiny.

Suddenly, a sound interrupted Balthazar’s thoughts on what to do with the ingot. Leaves rustling. Coming from a nearby group of bushes that extended off the edge of the forest.

Standing still for a moment, he observed the bushes quietly, waiting for any movement. But nothing happened.

“Must have been the wind,” the crab said with a shrug, to the completely motionless air around him.

Turning around to head to his center islet, returning his attention to the ingot, he heard sounds from the bushes again, but louder this time.

He looked back and only had time to drop the ingot before quickly sidestepping away from the hideous leg that was coming at him.

“WHAT THE HELL!” Balthazar shouted, with a mix of horror and disgust at the creature that had just jumped out of the bushes.

A giant spider, nearly the height of a horse, was standing in front of him. All eight dark, hairy legs flexed, ready to pounce at any moment. Its two massive fangs dripping with either drool, poison, or a mix of both. The creature looked terrifying and extremely mad.

Forgetting all his composure, Balthazar skittered and stumbled away from the spider’s reach, towards the bridge.

The creature hissed and tried to take a jab at him with the tip of one of its legs.

It barely missed.

Now halfway across the bridge, Balthazar took a moment to regain his breath. The bridge was not wide enough to fit all the giant spider’s legs properly, and it seemed hesitant to step on water.

Taking the opportunity, he grabbed the dangling monocle that had fallen off when the monster tried to jump him and adjusted it back into its usual spot.

[Level 11 Giant Spider]

“This is definitely a problem,” Balthazar said, his panic increasing, as he looked around for a solution he didn’t have.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Ugly creepy crawly! Leave boss alone!”

Feeling a small rush of wind passing next to him, Balthazar saw Druma charging at the spider. His hat barely holding on, both of his hands were tightly holding a wooden stake with the sharp end pointed at his foe.

“Druma! Get back! Don’t—”

Before he could finish his sentence, the spider kicked the goblin to the side with one of its legs, sending him crashing through a pair of wooden shelves, his wizard hat falling limp in front of his feet.

Fearing the worst, Balthazar quickly brought up his status screen, and checked his party info.

[Party Members]

[Name: Druma] [Race: Goblin] [Class: None] [Level: 3]

[Health: 20/60]

[Attributes]

[Strength: 2] [Agility: 4] [Intelligence: 2]

He had never seen a health stat on any of his screens, but in that moment he was just thankful it wasn’t displaying a zero.

Focusing back on the spider, Balthazar realized it had now turned its gaze to the goblin lying on the ground.

“Hey, you! Over here! Why don’t you stick to someone with as many legs as you?!” Balthazar shouted, waving both claws up in the air and making as much noise on the floorboards as he could.

Turning its eight dark, beady eyes back to the crab, the spider cautiously started stepping in his direction.

“Ah, damn it. Why did I open my big mouth?”

Balthazar quickly made his way across the bridge and to the center of his islet, but the spider was no longer held back by the water. After having tested the depth with one leg, it was now slowly crossing its way to the other side.

Balthazar started frantically looking around for something, anything that could help him.

There was a shortsword on a wooden rack, but he didn’t have hands to wield it.

There was a bow next to it, but Balthazar had no idea how to shoot it, and that was not exactly the best time to learn.

There was also a small bottle of poison on a shelf, but all he could do was groan at the pointlessness of it in that moment.

With the spider now nearly through to his side, Balthazar put his arms up, opened his pincers, and with a quick thrust, putting all of his skills gained from snatching up unaware fish off the water, wrapped a pincer around one of the spider’s legs, closing it with all of his might.

To his surprise, it did nothing, not even a dent. At most, it served only to anger the beast even more.

[Giant Spider resisted Chitin Claw]

Pulling away quickly, the crab hoped to everything his shell was hard enough for what was coming.

“Oi! What’s a big bugger like you doing here?!”

The voice came from the road, followed by the sound of multiple footsteps rushing in.

The noises caused the spider to turn around, and when Balthazar looked behind it, he saw three adventurers rushing in, each taking a different position around the creature.

“Pretty sure this pond already got enough multi-legged ugly bastards in it. Ya shoulda stayed in your forest, big mother!”

The stocky man kept shouting at the spider, steel shield held high in front of him, sword at the ready in his other hand.

The other two carefully closed the distance from different sides, causing the spider to grow even more aggressive, unable to back away into the deeper waters of the pond without losing its footing.

“YAAAH!”

With a loud shout, the adventurer charged his shield up at the spider, making it snap its fangs at him, and allowing the man to smack its face dead center with the steel.

Taking the opportunity, the other two adventurers charged in from the sides.

The woman on the left used her axe to swiftly cut off one of the spider’s legs at the joint.

With a splash of water around his submerged feet, the man on the right swung his warhammer with huge force, breaking another two legs.

“Yes!” Balthazar cheered. “That’s what you get! And stay out of my pond!”

Looking around, he grabbed the first thing that came to his pincer, a boot, and hurled it at the spider. The old piece of footwear hit its huge abdomen and bounced off into the water.

The spider screeched in pain (because of its lost legs, not so much because of the boot), turned for a moment, and then stumbled back, falling on the sand, its massive body no longer able to sustain itself on its remaining legs.

Without hesitation, the largest of the three brought his hammer down with all his strength, crushing the spider’s head, and putting a stop to the horrible screeching sounds.

[Giant Spider slain, assistance experience gained]

[You have reached Level 7!]

Balthazar glanced at the boot that was still slowly floating away and decided to just shut up and not question anything in that moment.

The shielded adventurer cautiously poked one of the spider’s legs with the tip of his sword. Content with its lack of reaction, he sheathed his weapon.

“Phew, lucky we were traveling this road today. That was a close call, wasn’t it, crab?”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” Balthazar said, while avoiding stepping too close to the spider’s remains.

“What was a giant spider doing all the way out of the Black Forest, anyway? They don’t usually step out of their territory like this,” the axe wielder asked.

“Dunno,” the apparent leader of the group responded, checking the front of his shield for damage. “Maybe all the hunting people been doing around their lairs lately has them all stirred up, or something.”

“It’s a broodmother,” grumbled the third adventurer, while ripping out one of the spider’s fangs, and attaching it to a chain around his belt.

“Oooh, lucky,” said the other man. “That should finish that quest we took last week.”

Balthazar diverted his attention away from the adventurers and turned to the goblin that was crossing the bridge, hat in hand, rubbing his head with a pained expression on his face.

“Look alive, boys, we got a goblin now!” the woman with the axe shouted, grabbing her weapon again.

“Wait! Hold on! He’s with me, he’s my worker, he’s not a threat!” Balthazar hurriedly said, while moving in front of them.

“This goblin… works for you?” the adventurer said, with an expression of confusion on her face.

“Yes, he does, and I’d appreciate it if you guys didn’t go chopping up my employees, alright?”

“Aye,” the leader of the pack started, “I’d usually find a goblin doing honest work weird, but when he’s working for a crab who is a merchant, it makes as much sense as anything else. But speaking of appreciation, we did just save your hide, didn’t we?”

“I don’t have a hide,” Balthazar said, begrudgingly, “but yes, I guess you did. And I suppose you expect some sort of reward for it now.”

Balthazar wasn’t too keen on giving free stuff to adventurers, as it might spread the wrong impression about him. Or worse, they might start coming around thinking he’s one of those quest giver chumps. But he also didn’t want the bad reputation that would come with being ungrateful.

“Here,” Balthazar said, grabbing several bottles off a shelf with both pincers, “a cure poison and a health potion for each of you, for the valiant risk you took, blah, blah, blah, I thank you, and so on.”

“Appreciate ya,” the stocky shield user said, taking the potions into his pack. “You’re not so bad, for a crab. And don’t you worry, we’ll be taking this nasty thing off your property now, so we can present it to the guild as proof of completion for a quest.”

“Please do,” the crab responded, “before some creepy necromancer shows up here and starts fondling its legs.”

Watching the trio drag away the remains of the spider—and its three unattached legs—up the road, Balthazar turned to Druma, who seemed to be recovering well after drinking a health potion the crab had given him while the adventurers were still tying up the spider’s legs for transport.

“That’s a pretty big bruise you got there,” he said, while the goblin put his hat back on, in shame, attempting to cover his bruised forehead. “I appreciate the effort, but next time don’t go charging in like that and risking getting yourself killed, alright?” Balthazar looked away from Druma. “I can’t afford to hire new manual labor every other day, you know?!”

The crab glanced at his assistant from the corner of his eye. He was just standing there looking mopey.

“Now go take the rest of the day off, you need to recover. You can continue what you were working on tomorrow.”

Druma nodded, with far less enthusiasm than usual, and walked down the bridge, to his bed of hay.

Feeling thankful that goblins did not have an understanding of work insurance yet, Balthazar picked up the iron ingot he had dropped earlier, wondering once again what he should do with it. Maybe it would have been a good throwing weapon against the spider.

That encounter had taught him how powerless he really was against a real threat. Even his mighty pincers were no match against a scrawny spider leg.

As he contemplated his woes while staring down the brick of metal, a prompt came up in front of him:

[Upgrade Right Claw with [Iron Ingot]?]

[Yes | No]