It had been another scorching hot morning, and Balthazar had just emerged from the pond’s waters where he was attempting to cool himself off.
A few paces to the side, Druma stood with his feet submerged, using a wooden bucket to pour water over himself, his wizard hat resting on the shore behind.
“We need to get some shelter built for those crates,” Balthazar said to the goblin. “Or else the heat from the sun is going to spoil all the fruit. Think you can put up some tarp shelter there for shade this afternoon?”
Druma squinted at the crab, water rolling off the sides of his hairless head.
Balthazar rolled his eyes.
“Put the hat on,” he said, pointing a pincer at the hat behind the goblin.
“Oooooh,” said the assistant, as he fit the oversized hat on his head. “Yes, yes! Druma can do!”
A loud grumbling came from Balthazar’s stomach.
“But for now, I think it’s time for a lunch break.”
The crab and the goblin joined the large golem who sat on the ground next to Balthazar’s tent, back straight, hands on his crossed legs. It was yet unclear how effective Bouldy would be if things got ugly, but at the very least, in terms of looking big and imposing, he was doing a fine enough job.
Balthazar adjusted himself into the large cushion that lay in front of his tent. It was his place of choice to look over his pond. Perfect view of the whole area, allowing him to keep an eye on any adventurer who came in from the road and browsed his wares displayed on the many wooden shelves and tables Druma had been dutifully building for the past few weeks, and best of all, sitting on it made him look very regal.
Or at least he felt so. He had never actually seen a king in person, but he felt sure they had a lot of common tastes. Living a life of luxury, surrounded by gold and servants, eating delicious food all day, that certainly sounded like a good deal. Not so much the part about having to put up with a whole kingdom of annoying people, though.
With careful precision, Balthazar carved a generous slice of lemon cream pie with his silver claw, and took a bite at it. Sitting on a small pile of hay, Druma was already munching on one of the meat pasties Madeleine had made for him.
“Something wrong?” Balthazar asked, noticing the goblin’s concerned look towards Bouldy.
“Boss sure big rock don’t want food?” Druma responded between loud chewing.
“Yes, don’t worry about it. I told you, golems don’t need food. It’s magic stuff, or something. You wouldn’t get it.”
“Big rock don’t need food, but maybe big rock still want food?”
Balthazar looked up at Bouldy’s permanently smiling expression, which was currently fixed on the goblin eating beneath him.
“I don’t think it’s food he wants,” the crab said, sending crumbs flying from his mouth as he spoke. “He just wants to watch over his friend.”
Druma squinted his eyes in deep thought. “Boss never have tribe? Other crabs?”
“Who, me? No, no. None of that,” Balthazar said, slowing his chewing. “Crabs don’t do tribes like you goblins do.”
A pigeon landed on Bouldy’s head, who seemed entirely unaware, or at least unbothered by it.
“Damn it!” Balthazar exclaimed, spewing pieces of pie from his mouth. “Get that thing off your head, Bouldy!”
The golem moved his head in order to look up, causing the bird to flutter away.
“Did you… used to like it in your tribe?” Balthazar asked, returning his attention to the goblin.
Druma produced a shrug. “Druma too small next to other goblins. Druma like to build stuff. Other goblins like to destroy stuff.” The small assistant swallowed and stared at his pasty without going for another bite. “Big goblins call Druma ‘smarty pants’ and throw rocks at Druma.”
“Oh,” Balthazar said, deciding it probably wouldn’t do much good to point out the goblin’s low Intelligence in that moment.
“One day humans attack tribe village,” Druma continued, with a vacant gaze. “Many goblin die in fight. Druma too small to help. So Druma hide. Tribe chief say Druma coward. Druma don’t help tribe.” The goblin frowns. “Druma don’t hide no more.”
Balthazar looked down at the crumbs underneath him, feeling unsure about what to say.
“Oh, for crying out loud!” the crab shouted. “The damn pigeon is back!”
The round bird landed in front of the tent and began frantically pecking the ground for pie crumbs.
“Shoo! Get out of here! They’re my crumbs!” Balthazar yelled, as he unsuccessfully attempted to swat the winged menace, who kept fluttering and dodging.
“Druma help boss!” the goblin said, while grabbing his pointy stick.
Joining the fray, he started trying to poke the pigeon while the crab continued to snap at it with his claws. Neither one of them being able to stop the determined bird in his mission to gobble up every single crumb it saw.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
Bouldy watched from above, smiling at the scene like it was all friendly playtime.
“Don’t just sit there smiling!” Balthazar shouted at the golem. “Help us!”
The lumbering stone got up to his feet, causing the ground to shake. The pigeon flew back and away, scared by the vibration, but still hovering above the tent.
“Stupid bird!” Druma yelled, taking his spear over his shoulder and throwing it at the bird.
The stick barely gained any altitude before dropping back down and splashing into the pond. The pigeon continued hovering above them, unafraid.
Balthazar decided it probably wouldn’t do much good to point out the goblin’s low Strength in that moment either.
“Bouldy! Grab it!” the crab told the golem, while pointing his pincer at the damnable bird.
The big rock smiled and slowly moved a hand in the bird’s direction, slowly closing it around nothing, as the pigeon had already steered away from it, now hovering slightly lower.
“Druma got you now!” the goblin said, blindly reaching for another stick atop a table nearby, eyes fixed on the bird just within reach above him.
Balthazar looked back at what his assistant was grabbing. “Druma! That’s not a spea—”
The goblin thrust his stick upwards at the bird and a stream of glowing green orbs shot out, pummeling the bird, who fell down on the ground, leaving a trail of feathers floating above it.
Druma stood dumbfounded, looking at the Staff of Magic Bolts in his hand. “Boss… is Druma… wizard?”
“I… no, of course you’re not,” Balthazar began, unsure of what to tell him. “Now put that back before you hurt someone with it.”
The goblin looked at the staff with curiosity while scratching his head under his wizard hat before putting it back on the table.
“Is bird dead?” Druma asked, joining the other two in a circle around the pigeon, who laid on its back on the ground, wings spread, tongue sticking out the side of its beak.
“I don’t know,” Balthazar said. “Poke it, see if it reacts.”
“Druma don’t want to touch bird,” the goblin said, sticking his pointy tongue out in disgust.
“Oh, you big…” the crab said, annoyed. “Bouldy, check if it’s alive.”
The golem stuck one of its massive fingers out and, as gently as its size allowed, poked the bird’s chest. No reaction.
“Seems dead to me,” said Balthazar.
“What we do with bird now?” asked Druma.
“I… don’t know. I don’t want it rotting away here,” Balthazar said, scratching the top of his shell with the tip of a claw. “Bouldy, you take it and toss it out of here.”
With a nod, the golem took the dead bird in his hand, and before Balthazar could react, pulled his arm back, put one foot up, and flung it at full force towards the open plains to the east, causing a rush of wind that nearly made Druma’s hat fly off his head.
Balthazar stood with his mouth open, staring at the lingering trail of feathers left in the air. “What… the hell?!”
The crab put one pincer up to his face in an attempt to facepalm. Except he did not posses palms to face.
He attempted to facepincer, but it wasn’t quite the same thing.
The point was that Balthazar was quite exasperated at that moment.
“I didn’t mean ‘toss’ like that, you big dumb rock!”
“Friend?” the puzzled golem said.
“Oh, forget it. At least we won’t have to worry about that anymore.”
***
A few hours had passed in the day, and soon the sun would set, which meant it was time to pack in.
Balthazar was carefully folding a towel with necklaces displayed on it when he heard wheels pulling up to the entrance of his pond and stopping. Heading towards the source, he saw an adventurer in leather and steel armor jumping off her small one-horse cart.
“Good day!” the woman said.
“Almost night,” the crab responded, with a not very convincing forced smile.
Balthazar loved to make money, but that didn’t mean he didn’t dislike last minute clients.
They were some of the worst. They’d always show up right as he was about to close up for the day and head to sleep, maybe have a late night pastry, perhaps take a nice bubble bath to relax after a hard day of trading.
But no, because some annoying adventurer with no one to put up with them at that hour felt like it, he would be stuck watching them leisurely browse through his wares as if it was still the earliest hours of the morning and they had all day.
And Balthazar would love nothing more than to shove them out of his pond, but they always had to be the ones who looked like they had the most coin to spend, for whatever reason. Money doesn’t buy friends or hobbies, he figured. Thankfully, the crab didn’t need either of those things, so just money was fine with him.
“Say, friend, you wouldn’t happen to have some nice helmets for sale, would you?” the adventurer asked, running a hand through her long dark curls.
“Of course I do. Helmets, right here. Just take your pick. Anything in particular you’re after?”
“No, not really,” she responded, looking over the small shelf with about a dozen headpieces displayed on it. As her eyes perused the items, what until that moment had just looked like a normal boulder behind the furniture turned its head and looked at the woman. “Uh… what is that?” the apprehensive client asked, hand on the pommel of her sword.
“Oh, don’t worry, that’s just my guard golem,” Balthazar responded, in a casual tone.
“Is… is it friendly?”
“Oh, yes. In fact, I think friendly is all he is,” the crab said, with a hint of disappointment.
The big rock smiled at them. “Friend.”
Relaxing her hand from the sword, she attempted to focus her attention back to the helmets.
“Anyway, as I was saying, whatever is affordable and sturdy. You know, it’s dangerous out there, can’t afford to be fighting baddies with an exposed head. That’s for the big stars, ha ha.”
Balthazar decided to ignore his questions about how the stars in the sky would ever wear helmets in the first place, and instead try to get on with his business, so he could attend his next meeting with a very important cream puff.
“Got just the thing for you here!” Balthazar said, holding up a horned iron helmet in his pincers and presenting it to his client. “Very sturdy and at a good price. My last one of this kind, too. You should grab it before someone else does.”
“Uh… right,” the adventurer said with hesitation. “I was hoping for something a little more… higher level.”
“Sure thing.”
Balthazar would sell that helmet. Eventually. Some day. Maybe.
Pulling a much more solid steel helmet from the bottom of the shelf, he presented it to her. “Pure steel, with a fine finish, and brand new too, not a scratch on it.”
“This is more like it,” she said, with a more satisfied expression. “How much?”
“For my last client of the day? How about 40 gold?” Balthazar said, omitting the fact that any other earlier client would have been offered a price of 35 gold coins.
“Well, I guess there are not a lot of other places open at this hour, so that will have to do,” the woman said, pulling out her coin purse. “You wouldn’t be willing to take my old helmet for a discount, would you?”
“Depends. What state is it in?” the crab asked, one eye stalk rising higher than the other.
“See, that’s the thing. It’s a bit… used now,” the adventurer admitted, with a bit of awkwardness on her tone, as she pulled a bronze colored helmet from the back of her belt. “That’s why I’d be fine with just a couple of coins for it.”
She turned the helmet on her hand to Balthazar, revealing a large dent on the forehead, covered with a splatter of red and a few feathers still stuck to it.
“Just don’t ask me what happened to it. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“4498… 4499… 4500.”
Balthazar finished counting the coins in his iron chest behind his sleeping pillow, feeling both satisfaction and concern.
He loved counting his money and seeing its number grow larger and larger every day, but by his estimations, that chest would be full once it reached 5000 gold coins, and that was a problem.
Not only had he not been able to find any adventurers carrying large containers they were willing to sell lately, but even if he had, he wasn’t sure where he’d put it.
He liked to keep his treasure close at night, but there wasn’t much room left in his tent, between the chest, his pillow, and all the many baskets of pastries surrounding it, there just wasn’t anywhere to store large sums of money like that.
Madeleine had told him during one of her recent visits that people in town with lots of money keep their valuables in places called “banks” in exchange for a small fee. That sounded like complete nonsense to the crab.
Paying someone to keep your coins? The whole point of having them was the satisfaction of holding them, counting them, playing with them, hugging a pile of them at night before falling asleep.
And even worse, what if they lose your precious coins? No, smart crabs don’t trust banks.
The problem was not just the coins, either. Adventurers were selling more and more loot every day, and no matter how fast Balthazar tried to offload it to the next adventurer who came around, his stock of junk continued growing, and slowly taking over the pond, crates and shelves being filled faster than poor Druma could put them together.
Truly, Balthazar was a crab suffering from success.
As he sighed, the bright yellow reflection of his many coins shining on him, Balthazar heard a woman’s voice from across the bridge.
“Excuse me, is this the crab’s trading post?”
“That’s right, this is the spot, and I am the crab,” Balthazar answered, stepping out of his tent.
On the other side stood a middle-aged woman, long black hair with two white strands emerging from the center of her hairline, falling over her black vestments of many layers and folds. Her large blue eyes shot at the crab as he appeared, and a wide smile appeared on her face.
Balthazar felt slightly uncomfortable.
[Level 42 Alchemist Witch]
“Oh, excellent, excellent!” the woman said, clasping her hands together in front of her chest. “Just who I was looking for.”
“Can I help you?” Balthazar asked as he joined her on the other shore.
“Such a magnificent specimen, you are!” The strange woman began walking around the crab, looking him over, hands still held against her chest. “And the stories were true. You really do talk!”
“Yes, I do, and I’d appreciate it if you stopped checking my behind now, please.”
“May I ask how that happened? Was it some kind of spell? Enchantment? Perhaps a curse gone wrong?” The witch gasped. “Don’t tell me you’re actually a prince and if I give you a kiss, you will turn back into a human?”
“What?! No, why would that ever… Look, I don’t know what kind of weird stories your head is filled with, but I’m here to do business, so if you’re not here for that…”
“Oh, come now,” she interjected, “is that a way to treat a lady?”
“I wouldn’t know, but seems to me like the way to treat witches who aren’t here to sell or buy anything.”
“I am an alchemist,” the woman said, her smile quickly vanishing from her face for a moment. “And you are wrong in your assumption. I am here to do business.”
“Great. Then what are you here to sell or buy?”
“I’m looking for rare alchemy ingredients,” she responded, a smile already back on her face.
“Sure thing,” Balthazar said, moving to a shelf filled with multiple clay pots and glass jars. “I got plenty of flowers, mushrooms, plant leaves, and much more. What’s it going to be?”
“The ingredients I seek are rather… difficult to find.” She pulled a folded piece of parchment from her sleeve, opened it, and started reading it. “Do you by any chance have… troll’s blood?”
“Uh… no, I don’t,” the crab said, hesitantly.
“A werewolf liver?”
“Wha—no!”
“Spider broodmother glands?”
“Why would I… what the hell kind of poison are you planning to make?”
“Oh, no, no. No poison at all. Just some ingredients for some homemade recipes, nothing nefarious, I promise you.”
“Either way, I don’t have any of those things, and I’m not sure I’d want to, anyway.”
“Such a shame, really. But say, on a different subject,” the witch said, moving around the crab again, trailing a black fingernail on the surface of his shell, “this is a beautiful pond. I’m sure it looks incredible at night, if you were interested in giving me a tour of it later.”
“Look, lady…”
“Please, let’s not stand on ceremony,” she said, an intense smile on her face. “My name is Velvet, but feel free to call me Velvie.”
“I will not, but thanks,” Balthazar said, increasingly uncomfortable, while sidestepping away from the witch. “If there’s nothing else you’re looking to buy, I really got lots to do.”
“There is one more ingredient I am looking for,” Velvet said, taking another step closer to the nervous merchant.
“If it’s not a common petal or some random fungus, I probably can’t help you.”
“It’s something I know for a fact you have. And being such a fine gentleman, you wouldn’t leave a lady hanging, I’m sure? I’d be willing to pay almost anything to have it.”
“Err… and what would that be?” Balthazar apprehensively asked.
“Nothing much, just one, maybe two giant crab legs,” the witch casually said, batting her eyes at Balthazar.
“You… you want what now?!” the bewildered crustacean exclaimed.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
“A crab leg, that’s all.”
“You want one of my legs? Lady, are you out of your mind?!”
“Oh, come now, dear, it’s just a leg. You got seven more. You could easily be a sweetheart and spare one for a girl in need.”
“No! They’re my legs. I’m very attached to them!”
“That’s not a problem. We can take care of that without you even feeling a thing.”
“You’re nuts, get away from me and out of my pond, witch!” Balthazar said loudly, nearly shouting.
“I really, really need the contents of it,” the desperate alchemist pleaded, putting a hand on one of his pincers and looking straight into his eyes. “I’m sure we can reach some sort of agreement.”
“Are we interrupting?” a man’s voice said from the road entrance.
The crab and the woman turned to see a pair of figures standing by the pond’s entrance. One had a bow on his back, a large basket in his arms, and a slightly embarrassed expression on his face, while the other carried a basket in each hand and looked at them with one eyebrow raised and an air of suspicion.
“Not at all!” Balthazar quickly said, moving away from the black clad woman. “Madeleine, Rye, please, come in. This madame witch was just leaving!”
The expressions on the archer and the baker changed, becoming visibly apprehensive. Rye put his basket down slowly and rested his hand on his waist to give him quick access to drawing his bow. Madeleine spoke first. “Witch, you said? Your client’s not causing any trouble, is she, Balthazar?”
“As I explained before, I’m an alchemist,” Velvet said, no longer smiling, while sizing up the two arrivals. “And I take it you two are his clients as well, yes? Well, I’m not done yet, so if you don’t mind waiting your turn…”
A frown formed on Madeleine’s face and she opened her mouth to speak, but Balthazar interjected before she could get a word out. “Ha ha, no, no, they’re not clients, they’re here for… a delivery. Yes, that’s it, a delivery. So now, if you don’t mind, I really have things to take care of.”
“My, that is so impolite of you,” the woman said, not moving a step. “Not to mention unprofessional. I thought you were a merchant? We’re not done haggling yet, are we?”
“Yes, we are! I already told you I’m not selling what you’re after.”
“Balthazar, what is going on here?” Madeleine asked. “What does this woman want?”
“She—”
“Oh, now, now,” Velvet said, interrupting Balthazar as she turned to the baker. “The adults are talking. You shouldn’t stick your nose in, little miss.” She gave a sly smile. “But if you want to know so badly, Balthie and I were discussing the price of… parts of his body.”
“Balthie??” the crab repeated, befuddled.
“The price of… what the hell?” the baker exclaimed, her face turning red. “What kind of dealings are you making now, Balthazar?”
“Me? None! This crazy woman came in here and started trying to buy one of my legs!”
“Oh, darling,” the witch said in a dramatic tone as she bent a knee and grasped the crab’s left pincer. “I would take all of you, but if I cannot, even just a leg would satisfy my heart’s desire.”
Balthazar stared, perplexed, at the woman, and then at Rye and Madeleine. He was lost for words and actions. His face would be turning red at that moment if he had the skin for it.
“Mate, are you sure you’re alright?” Rye said, a concerned smile on his face. “Did she cast some kind of spell on you, or something?”
“Oh!” Velvet exclaimed. “I am the one who has been put under a spell. From the moment I laid eyes on you, Balthie, I knew I had found the one.” She placed the back of her hand against her forehead in an exaggerated pose.
“Guys,” Balthazar pleaded. “Come on, you don’t seriously think I have anything to do with this… this witch, right?!”
“I don’t know,” Madeleine said, her face an even brighter red now. “Maybe she offered you some nice sweets? That would probably sway you, wouldn’t it? Maybe we should take these back to town, if you’re already set here?”
“Ah, you must be a baker, are you not?” Velvet asked, eyeing Madeleine’s white blouse and skirt.
“So what if I am?” the girl responded, defiant.
“That’s adorable,” the witch said with a wide smile, before turning back to Balthazar and placing her piercing blue eyes close to his. “I could prepare you concoctions sweeter than anything you’ve ever tasted, my dear. If you’d just be a little more… friendly with me.”
“Wha… No!” Balthazar said, loudly, as he stepped away from her, trying to snap himself out of his befuddlement. “You should leave. I want to trade nothing with you, and I definitely do not want to be your friend!”
A large piece of rock with eyes appeared above a shelf and smiled at the group. “Friend?”
Velvet looked up at the golem towering above her from behind the shelf, and then at the pair by the entrance, one with a hand on his bow, and the other with her hands on her hips, her face looking ready to fume. A goblin wearing a wizard hat joined them from across the bridge too, attracted by the noise and commotion.
“Well,” the witch said, her smile no longer as smug, “I can see there’s no swaying you at the moment, and that your… friends aren’t going to let us conduct business. So maybe I will get going.”
“That would—” Balthazar started saying, before a very loud baker interrupted him.
“Yes, that would be best. Good day to you. The road is over there. Be on your way.”
The witch in black began calmly walking to the exit, taking a moment to turn her head back to the crab.
“We’ll catch up on our business some other time, darling.” She winked at him before walking away, her dark vestments waving behind her.
“That was… weird.” Rye said, taking his hand away from his bow.
“You’re telling me?!” Balthazar said, feeling as though he had been holding his breath that whole time and only now could finally exhale. “I don’t know where that one came from, but she gave me the weirdest feelings in… Rye?”
The archer was looking over the crab’s shell with a scared expression. As Balthazar turned, he encountered the baker who was leaning down towards him, wrists against her sides, her freckled cheeks a bright crimson, green eyes shooting daggers at him.
“Would you like to tell us what was that all about?”
The crab gulped, unsure why he was so intimidated by a small baker, but still sure he didn’t want to find out either.
“I—I—I’m not sure,” Balthazar stuttered. “She first came here wanting some weird alchemy ingredients, and then she says she needs one of my legs for something she wanted to make. It was all very weird. I’m just glad you two showed up.”
“Yeah, ha ha, right, good thing we did. Who knows what your new suitor would have done to you otherwise,” Rye nervously said, attempting to lighten the mood. Unsuccessfully.
“Yes, Balthazar,” Madeleine said, tapping her foot on the ground rapidly, “what would have happened if we didn’t show up? Would you have let the witch do her weird stuff to you? You seemed very flustered in her presence!”
“Of course not! And… I’m not exactly used to some of your strange human behaviors! I just don’t know how to act around them! There, you happy now?”
Madeleine pulled back and exhaled, losing some of her ire. “I was just concerned about you. I know about witches. They are evil and tricky, and you… well, you’re a grumpy crab, but you’re our grumpy crab. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”
Balthazar stared at her for a moment, confused. “So, wait… you were worried about me? And because of that… you also get mad at me? What the hell kind of sense does that make?!”
“I don’t know!” Madeleine exclaimed, throwing her arms up. “That’s just what people do sometimes!”
“You humans are an irrational bunch,” Balthazar said, shaking his shell.
“Yeah, well, maybe so,” the archer started saying, with a sheepish smile, “but at least we can make great pastries, right?”
The crab and the girl continued looking away from each other, both with their arms crossed.
“Oh, come on, you guys!” Rye said. “That was a witch. Their class’s whole thing is being tricky, manipulative, and sowing discord. You two are friends. Are you really going to let her have the last laugh by staying upset at each other?”
Madeleine sighed. “Rye is right. I rarely get this upset at things, but… I really lose it when it comes to the ones I care about being in trouble. I’m sorry I got mad at you, Balthazar.”
Balthazar looked at her from the corner of his eyes, without uncrossing his arms. “Fine, I accept your apology.”
Rye gave him a look of disapproval and nudged the crab’s shell lightly.
“And fine, I… I apologize too, for anything.”
The archer groaned and rolled his eyes.
“It’s alright,” Madeleine said. “I’m sure that took a lot of effort from you, so I’ll take it. Just please, promise me if you ever see that witch again, you’ll run the other way, with all your eight legs!”
“Don’t need to tell me,” Balthazar responded, finally relaxing, “I don’t want to go through that kind of discomfort ever again.”
“Hey now,” Rye started, with a smirk, “maybe a witch would be the perfect match for your grumpiness, eh?”
They both looked at the smiling adventurer with the same sour expression.
Druma, who had been sitting on the ground under the golem’s shadow with his legs crossed and quietly observing since joining them, finally broke the silence.
“Druma hungry. Can eat now?”
It was the middle of the afternoon, and Balthazar was sitting on his cushion by himself, chomping away at one of the chocolate cookies Madeleine had brought him. Chocolate was something new to him, and delicious, yet another marvel of human foods he could never have imagined before, but despite the sweetness of it, his mood was still sour.
Whoever that strange witch woman had been, she managed to catch him off guard. All his wit, cunning, and intelligence served him of little when she started acting so oddly around him.
The archer and the baker kept teasing him during their visit about how he was “flustered” because of her, whatever that meant, but all Balthazar knew was that there was something about her, something around her that made him feel… disarmed. And a crab without arms is as good as a dead crab.
Balthazar had been racking his brain for an explanation ever since that encounter. Surely it must have been some kind of magic, a spell, perhaps? She was a witch, after all. But also an alchemist, so maybe a potion? But he was sure he didn’t drink anything around her. Maybe a potion sprayed in the air, like a perfume? He did notice she smelled quite nice, so maybe… no, surely it was some kind of evil magic. It had to be. Damnable magic users and their stupid magic.
Stuffing another whole cookie in his mouth, Balthazar tried focusing on something else and not think about Velvet and her waving black hair any more.
A young girl with a small crude bow on her back was browsing his shelf of arrows nearby, and he decided to place his focus on her instead.
“Hey, you. Gonna buy anything or just wear all my items out with your eyes?” the crab said in a bitter tone.
The adventurer looked at him with a slightly offended expression. “For a merchant, you’re kind of rude, you know?”
“And for a supposed client, you’re kind of not buying anything, you know?”
The girl huffed and turned around to leave. “Keep your junk, crab.” She stopped for a moment and looked back. “And maybe lay off the cookies. The way you’re going at them soon you won’t fit in that shell anymore.”
Balthazar felt annoyance rising inside him. How dare she imply he’s getting chubby? Does she not know crabs don’t get fat?
But he also felt a hint of guilt. He always disregarded everyone’s accusations of being a grump, what do humans know about crabs anyway, but even he had a hard time not seeing it now. And for someone who fancied himself a merchant, that was not the best behavior to have. What good was his speech if he was using it to antagonize possible clients?
He needed to get his shell back in the game.
As the young girl was reaching the exit to the road, two other adventurers were arriving.
“Good day,” one of them greeted, with a nod to the girl.
“Maybe for you. That one over there seems to be having a bad one,” she responded, pointing her thumb back to the crab, “and wants to make everyone else have the same, apparently. Don’t let him snip you.”
The two men—both level 25 fighters—raised their eyebrows as they made way for the girl to leave, following her with their gaze as she passed. Once she was no longer within earshot, they turned their attention to Balthazar, who had gotten up and crossed the small path over the water to join them. “Did something happen with that one?”
“Ah, just an unsatisfied customer. Guess not even I can keep a perfect record. But don’t mind that, I’m sure you didn’t come here to chat. So, what’s it going to be, buying or selling?”
“Aye, you’re right, we’re in a bit of a rush,” the first adventurer said, while the other moved to the shelves and began browsing through them. “As for your question, a bit of both. We heard a giant has been spotted somewhere to the west, in the plains, and we are going to head there, but don’t got time to go into town. So we figured we’d stop here, get some supplies for the task, and offload any unnecessary extra weight.”
“A giant? Just hope that doesn’t come this way, that’s not a client I’d want. What kind of supplies will you be needing?”
“Let’s see,” the adventurer began, while rubbing his chin and looking around. “Rope. The biggest coil of the thickest rope you got.”
Balthazar skittered his way to a nearby crate and retrieved a large bundle of rope from within.
“A hook, too. Steel, extra large.”
Putting the rope down, the merchant fetched a metal hook, larger than his right pincer.
“Oh, and a saw. Gotta be a strong one, though.”
Placing the hook next to the rope, Balthazar turned and called out. “Druma! Get the big saw, the one for big wood logs.”
After a few moments, the goblin came running in his usual jumping pace, a huge, sturdy saw in his arms.
“Is that going to be all?” the merchant asked the adventurer, as his assistant hurried back to his tasks across the bridge.
“Hmm,” the client said as he looked around some more. “Oh, and four bottles of the cheapest wine you got, too.”
“Sounds like it will be a gruesome party.”
“The wine isn’t for us. Well, maybe a little after. But apparently giants like booze too, so that will be the bait.”
“Very well,” Balthazar said, as he returned with four bottles of wine held in his pincers. “Is payment going to be coin or trade?”
“Ah, right. I mentioned we needed to drop any unnecessary weight. And I don’t really see the point in heading out on a giant hunt with this heavy thing on me.”
The adventurer opened his pack and reached inside with some effort, pulling out a solid piece of metal, its yellow shine reflecting the sunlight nearly blinding Balthazar as it hit his eyes. It was an ingot, similar to the iron and silver ones he had used to upgrade his claws, except this one was made of pure gold.
Balthazar attempted to keep his jaw from dropping, as his greed nearly addled his brain. He had seen thousands of gold coins at that point, and while their novelty still hadn’t worn off, a large slab of solid gold like that was a whole new thing for him, and he knew he had to have it.
“This would sell for a lot in town,” the man said, “but we don’t got time to go there, and it weighs a ton, so I’m hoping you’ll accept this in exchange for all the supplies. We’re kind of short on coin right now, too.”
“Mhmm, yes, it’s an interesting offer,” Balthazar said, feigning consideration.
“Ah, damn it, I get it. Maybe we should just run up to town. Why would you want this thing down here? Not like adventurers would wanna buy a gold ingot before going out.”
“No, no!” the crab hurriedly said. “I understand your situation, and because members of the Adventurer’s Guild are such good clients of mine, I’m willing to accept this item as payment, just to help you guys out.”
“Really?” the adventurer asked, with a smile. “Great! That will save us a lot of time. Appreciate it, crab! You really aren’t as bad of a grump as everyone says.”
Taking his new items and signaling for his partner to follow, the two adventurers left with quick steps, heading out into the plains.
“A grump. Hmph!” Balthazar muttered. “These humans don’t know how to appreciate a crab. I’m a ray of sunshine. When they aren’t making my life miserable.”
As the usual listing of traded items passed through his vision, an extra line presented itself.
[You have reached Level 8!]
“Oh,” the crab exclaimed, surprised. “That hadn’t happened in a while. Thought this thing had gotten tired of giving me experience. Not that I would know, since it doesn’t show me that part!”
Still annoyed at the system in front of his eyes, he begrudgingly upped his Intelligence as usual, from 17 to 18, but a sudden hunch stopped him before proceeding to the skills menu.
Turning his attention to the gold ingot on the ground in front of him, Balthazar tried picking it up with his silver pincer. He struggled, the item being much heavier than he expected. With the aid of his stronger iron claw, he finally held the precious bar in front of his face, marveling at its beauty.
“I wonder if this one could be used for upgrades like iron and silver were…”
[Upgrade Shell with [Gold Ingot]?]
[Yes | No]
Balthazar’s eyes widened as he read the prompt in front of him. “My… shell?!”
He had already upgraded both of his claws to great results, but his shell felt like a much more important thing to change. He took great pride in his shell, always keeping it well polished and free of any disgusting limpets. Changing it sounded almost scary to Balthazar.
But then he took another look at the gold he was holding, with its scintillating glint, and his iron and silver pincers, and his doubts evaporated. His two previous experiments with imbuing gave him two fantastic claw upgrades, so this could be nothing but a great choice, surely.
[Imbuing rank C required for upgrade]
“I knew it! Trying to trip me up, weren’t you, little system? Too bad for you I’ve got too many legs for that.”
Wasting no time, the smug crab navigated to the Imbuing skill and upgraded it from D to C before returning to the upgrade prompt. Selecting “Yes” on the message, Balthazar rolled his eyes at the system that yet again taunted and annoyed him.
[Hammer required]
Stolen story; please report.
“Why oh why do I need a hammer,” Balthazar muttered to himself, as he crossed the bridge, “I don’t even know how to use it. Just a pointless requirement. I swear this thing is designed to irritate me.”
Balancing the heavy ingot on his iron pincer, the crab took a hammer from Druma’s toolbox with his silver one. “Just going to borrow this for a moment. Don’t worry.”
The goblin looked at his boss with curiosity, but didn’t question it. Even a goblin with 4 Intelligence knew better than to question the peculiar crab at that point.
Returning to his purple cushion, Balthazar held the gold ingot and the hammer, prompt up and ready to be confirmed.
“Alright, here it goes. I can’t wait to see what I get.”
As he selected “Yes” on the question, the gold ingot disappeared from his hand as the others had before.
Clink!
The same sound from before ringed inside Balthazar’s shell, despite the hammer being motionless in his pincer, except this time the sound came accompanied by a sharp pain between his eyes, as if something heavy and blunt had just struck him.
His vision blurring, the crab fell prostrate on his cushion, dazed by the invisible impact. Before he could string a coherent thought, a new sensation took over his body. Like a squeeze, he felt his entire body—the soft one inside his shell—being pressed from all directions by an unseen force.
“AHHHHHHHH!” Balthazar yelled, the edges of his shell feeling as if cracking under an internal pressure.
“Boss, boss!” Druma shouted, rushing to the crab’s aid. “Why boss screaming?”
“Druma,” he tried saying, his voice faltering. “Druma… get… Ahhh!”
Balthazar felt his body pressing outwards, as if trying to escape his own shell, and slowly being squeezed out of it. His vision fading from the pain, he mentally cursed the stupid, unhelpful system, the hammer, and even that one last cookie he ate, before passing out.
***
[Molting…]
“Wha… what?”
[Molting finished.]
“Huh?”
[Shellupgraded to [GoldenShell] (+5Charisma)]
Balthazar lifted his face from the damp sand, the world around him still spinning. A goblin wearing an oversized wizard hat stood above him, looking down with concern.
“Is crab boss alright?”
Bouldy was on his hands and knees next to Druma, observing Balthazar too.
Trying to stand back up, he found himself slightly heavier than he remembered. Damnable delicious chocolate cookies.
“I… I think so. What happened?”
“Boss go to sleep from pain! Boss start squeezing out of shell! Gross!”
Balthazar looked behind, realizing he had apparently dragged himself a few paces from the cushion he had been sitting on before passing out.
With shock, he saw his own shell lying on the cushion, empty and cracked on the front, where his face used to be.
“Then boss come out yellow!”
“Yellow?” the disturbedcrab asked. “What do you mean, yellow?!”
Trying to redistribute his strength around his newfound extra weight, Balthazar made way to the edge of the water and looked down at his reflection on the crystalline water surface.
He had a brand new shell around him, shiny and polished, a golden finish over what looked like his old gray chitin.
“Wait. What did it say? Charisma?”
Balthazar rushed his eyes to the status menu, to see what had changed.
[Status]
[Name: Balthazar] [Race: Crab] [Class: Adept Merchant] [Level: 8]
[Attributes]
[Strength: 3] [Agility: 2] [Intelligence: 18]
[Skills]
[Charisma: S(+5)] [Medium Armor: B] [Speech: B] [Fishing: C] [Slashing Weapons: C] [Reading: C] [Imbuing: C]
“What the hell is Charisma?!” the befuddled crab exclaimed, before navigating to the list of skills.
[Charisma: S(+
5)]
[The trait of being likable and charming to people you interact with.]
“What?! This is useless! I’m already naturally likable and charming!”
Bouldy and Druma were staring at the golden crab, a mix of confusion and concern in their expressions.
Balthazar paced around, still trying to get used to his extra weight. He looked at his iron and silver pincers, as well as his legs, all unchanged. This change had been a much harsher experience than the upgrades from before, and the result was not what he had expected at all.
“You had to get the last laugh, didn’t you, system?” he muttered, sounding slightly deranged. “Couldn’t just tell me what the upgrade does before I take it, had to make me take the gamble. Well, joke’s on you! I’m going to do like Madeleine does and not let this get me down, ha! I love gold! Why wouldn’t I want to wear it all over my beautiful shell!”
“B—boss? Is boss alright?” Druma asked, looking mildly scared of the crab’s behavior.
“Never better!” Balthazar said, giving a jump in place. “Just need to move around a little, break this new shell in, get used to the weight of it, and I’ll be perfect! Shiny and perfect!”
Balthazar walked over to a jar next to his old empty shell and took a chocolate cookie from it.
“Who needs this old thing now, when I can be golden!” he said, with great confidence, as he chomped on the cookie.
He didn’t need this so called “Charisma” for anything. He already had plenty of natural charm, he was sure of it, but so what if the upgrade was wasted on something he was absolutely sure he’d never need? His brand new golden shell was more than enough of a reward. Fashion, baby!
Leaving a confused goblin and golem on the islet, Balthazar walked across the bridge and to the road, facing the nearly setting sun and letting its warm raysbathe him with open arms, his new carapace reflecting the light like a beacon.
“Psst!”
The crab broke out of his trance and looked around, confused.
“Psssst! Over here!”
Balthazar tilted his shell and looked at a nearby bush.
“Hello?”
A head wearing a black hood and mask popped out of the bush. “It’s me, Rob.”
“Oh, it’s you,” the shiny crab said to the thief. “How’s the hand?”
“It’s… better. Thanks…”
“Wait. You’re not hiding there to steal from me again, are you? Hands off my shell!”
“No. No! I told you, I never want to feel that pincer again,” Rob said, wincing, before looking the crab up and down with raised eyebrows. “But hey, that’s a really nice shell you got now.”
“Thanks… I guess. But then, if you’re here, does that mean you have some news to tell me?”
“Yes, but it’s not good.”
