Merchant Crab

The golden merchant tapped rhythmically on a table with his pincers as he hummed to himself, his eyes scanning an open book in front of him. This crab was in a good mood.

After having beaten his first “boss fight,” Balthazar felt better than he had in days, as if a massive weight had been lifted off his shell, and he could now look towards a shinier future. A future without the plight of taxes.

His mind now freed from those concerns, he decided the first order of business was finally to work on improving his trading post.

Summer was quickly coming to an end, days becoming shorter, the skies cloudier, the breeze cooler. Soon the rains would come, and unfortunately for the merchant, many of his goods were not waterproof.

And most important of all, not even a crab enjoys soggy pastries.

Having done his share of reading on roof architecture, Balthazar had settled on the kind of roof he wanted to erect over his trading post. Sadly, there was a clear lack of building plans for those with advanced limbs such as himself. He would have to rely on the handy goblin once again for this project, assuming he could handle it, given the much bigger scale of it, compared to some simple wooden tables and shelves.

Bouldy and Druma joined the crab at the center of the trading post. The golem was carrying a large saw and several coils of thick rope, while the goblin brought a small toolbox and a waterskin.

“Alright, you guys have everything?” Balthazar asked. “Remember, stay on the edge of the forest, no stepping inside it. There are plenty of large trees there to take down, no need to risk going inside.”

“Yes, yes, boss!” the eager goblin said. “Druma will look after big rock!”

“Friend,” said the golem with a smile.

“Make sure you don’t let anything bad happen to him,” Balthazar whispered to the boulder, while the goblin was busy taking a couple of meat pasties for the day. “If anything dangerous appears, forget the lumber, take Druma and run back here, understood?”

“Friend,” Bouldy repeated, while gently nodding.

“Boss will be alright alone all day?” asked Druma, rejoining the other two.

“Pfft. I’ll be fine. Nobody’s messing with the vanquisher of taxmen,” the cocky crab declared, giving both of his pincers a couple of clicks. “Besides, I won’t be alone. Blue’s right there.”

He pointed to the drake on the other side of the bridge, sleeping on her red cushion as usual. Not a care in the world.

“But boss,” the goblin started, while scratching the back of his green head, “Blue always sleeping. She no help anything.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it. I’m sure she’d step up if necessary. Besides, just the amount of birds she has been clearing from the area is already plenty of help for me. Now go on, get going, you’re burning daylight!”

Balthazar watched as the pair made their way out onto the road, the massive golem walking slowly, while the tiny goblin tried to hop fast enough to keep pace with him.

“And make sure you get back before dusk!” the crab yelled at them from afar.

The merchant stretched his arms and let out a sigh of contentment.

“Ah, the kids are out for the day. It’s just me and my goods, like in the old days.”

***

The day passed like a soft summer breeze, the crab making deal after deal with each passing adventurer, sometimes to buy, sometimes to sell, sometimes both, but always with a net profit for him.

Money was accumulating nicely, but for the first time in a long time, Balthazar was actually running out of stock.

Looking through his inventory of weapons and armor, the shiny merchant wondered if he could keep supplying the skeleton’s dungeon with loot if adventurers kept coming by so empty-handed as they had been lately. Was he biting more than he could chew with that business agreement?

“Metaphors make me hungry. Time to go bite on some cookies.”

Strolling to the road with a cookie in his pincer, Balthazar looked towards the south, looking for any signs of Druma and Bouldy.

The sun was close to touching the horizon, and the sky was a warm orange, daylight soon to be gone. Even adventurers were mostly out from the roads by that point.

“Where are those two?” the crab asked himself while chewing on his chocolate chip cookie. “I told them to make it back before dusk.”

Alerted by the sound of footsteps and metal rattling behind him, Balthazar turned around, already rolling his eyes at the idea of some last-minute clients.

“Look, if you need something let’s make it qui—”

The merchant jumped in place, startled, and dropped his cookie.

Out of the grass on the other side of the road came three dark green figures, tall and muscular. They each had large fangs coming out of their lower lip and wore permanent scowls on their faces. They were orcs.

Balthazar stared in horror. Not at the orcs, but at the dropped cookie on the ground, quickly being surrounded by frantic ants.

“Nooo,” he quietly whimpered, before turning his gaze up, back to the orcs.

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The one leading the trio wore a mix of pelts and chains, and carried a large battleaxe on his back, while the other two behind him carried large loot sacks and wore pelts and chains from the waist down, their chests bare and without any kind of clothing or armor.

Finally focusing his attention back to the real problem besides the fallen cookie, Balthazar nervously looked around. Orcs were savage beings, described in every book as brutal marauders with an insatiable thirst for battle and bloodshed.

The golem and the goblin were still not back, and the drake was, as usual, sleeping all the way at the center of the pond. Balthazar might have defeated a tax inspector in a bureaucratic battle, but he wasn’t convinced he’d have such luck with a trio of barbaric orcs.

They continued to approach the crab at a calm walking speed. He eyed the path down to the pond, but there was little chance he’d make it without one of them being able to intercept him if he tried.

He examined the three of them for what little good that would do for him in that situation.

[Level 25 Orc Chieftain]

[Level 15 Orc Warrior]

[Level 15 Orc Warrior]

With little hope his iron claw would do much in that situation, Balthazar turned to the only other strategy he knew: running his mouth.

“Hey there, fellas,” the crab nervously started, slowly stepping backwards away from them. “A bit late to be going on a raid, but I guess you’d know better about those than me. What do I know? I’m just a talking crab. Not like a crab would have anything worth looting. Also, unrelated note, but did you know giant crabs taste terrible? Anyway, did you see that lonely adventurer who just went down that way a moment ago? He was loaded with loot. Crazy stuff. Wouldn’t sell me any of it. Not that I’d buy it. I’m not a merchant or anything. Just a crab, having a stroll, stretching his legs.”

The chieftain stopped in front of the crab, staring him down with a deep frown.

“You certainly talk a lot, merchant crab.”

Balthazar froze for a moment, processing what the orc said.

“You… you aren’t going to attack me?”

“Why would I ever do such a thing?” the orc said, frown deepening even more.

“I… uh… because you’re… well, never mind,” the crab finally said, deciding it would probably be best not to finish that sentence. “How do you know I’m a merchant?”

The imposing orc let out an exhale that implied a chuckle that his expression did not accompany.

“A mutual acquaintance told us about you,” he said. “Tom, the traveling skeleton from that dungeon west of here.”

“Ooooh!” Balthazar let out, with some relief. “That explains it. He mentioned telling some of his contacts about me. I just didn’t expect, uh…”

“Orcs?” the other finished. “Don’t worry, we’re used to getting that a lot.”

“So, if you don’t mind me asking,” the hesitant crab started, “why exactly are you here? I’m not sure what an orc tribe could want with me.”

“The skeleton told us you deal with many kinds of goods, including weapons and armor.”

“Oh, I see, although I’m not sure I’d have armor that is… your size,” Balthazar said, eyeing the orc’s broad shoulders, easily rivaling the largest of adventurers. “And I’m also a little low on supply at the moment, I’m afraid.”

“You misunderstand me,” the orc said, raising his large hand, palm forward. “We are not interested in purchasing weapons and armor. We are looking to sell them to you.”

“Really? That’s, uh… interesting?”

“Is there somewhere more fitting for discussing business we could go, other than the middle of the road?”

“Right, sure. Come with me,” the merchant said.

Balthazar was taken aback by the unexpected behavior of the orcs, but remembering he had recently begun doing business transactions with a skeleton, he figured the time for being surprised by that kind of things was gone.

He headed down the path to his pond, the three orcs following behind.

“Right, so let’s talk business,” the crab said as they arrived at the center of the trading post.

“I believe we still owe introductions,” the chieftain said.

Balthazar had no idea orcs were so polite. He wasn’t sure why humans gave them such a bad reputation.

“I am Khargolmazornyamarz,” the chieftain continued. “And these are two of my bravest warrior-brothers.”

The first one of the two identical orcs nodded. “I am Burznarfuogol.”

The other nodded as well. “Yaturwurtguthvarbu.”

With a dumbfounded expression, the crab suddenly realized that perhaps keeping track of adventurers' names wasn’t as difficult as he was used to thinking.

“I hope it’s alright if I call you just Khargol,” Balthazar said. “You know, purely for brevity’s sake.”

“Very well. You may,” Khargol agreed.

“So, anyway,” said the crab, “about that business?”

The bulky orc looked back to give the other two a nod and they began opening their loot bags.

“Adventurers often attempt to attack our tribe’s camp,” chieftain Khargol explained, “and after we dispatch their misguided endeavor, we are left with much loot we have no use for. From poorly crafted weapons to armor parts far too small, even for our children. Lately their attacks have increased, and we no longer know what to do with all the overabundance of loot. Tom suggested we come to you.”

“Wait,” a confused Balthazar interjected. “I don’t get it. You’re clearly not the savages humans paint you as, why do you keep fighting them like you are? Why not just converse with them, like you’re doing with me?”

The orc smiled for the first time since arriving from the plains. Balthazar suddenly found he preferred the scowl a lot more. His sharp teeth and large fangs made his smile feel evil regardless of the intention behind it.

“Because we might not have any use for their gear, but we still don’t mind them bringing all their coin to our doorstep.”

“Oh…”

Balthazar wasn’t sure if his previous idea of orcs wasn’t less scary the more he learned about them.

The other two warriors had unloaded a large collection of dirty armor pieces, swords, maces, daggers, and more, all laid out on the floor in front of the crab.

“Would you be interested in purchasing these?” Khargol asked. “If so, there would be more where these came from.”

“Hmm, sure, I could clean those up and sell them, I’m sure. Now, let’s discuss a price.”

“That won’t be necessary,” the orc said, while pulling a piece of parchment and a small pair of glasses from his pocket.

Carefully placing the tiny lenses on his nose, he looked at the paper.

Orcs could apparently read too. They were definitely the surprise that kept on surprising.

“We have calculated the market value for each of these items and have come to an agreeable amount of 131 gold for all of them.”

It was Balthazar’s turn to frown.

“That’s not how haggling works. We need to reach a mutually acceptable value.”

“We do not. 131 is the acceptable value. Any less would be to allow you to undercut us. It’s your choice to buy them or not now.”

The gilded crab was no stranger to calling a bluff.

“And if I don’t? What will you do, go up to the town market and sell them there?”

The chieftain smiled again. This time, there was definitely an evil flair to it.

“No, we will simply take them and dump them in the river.”

Perhaps they were savages after all, even if just partially.

Balthazar looked at the sun behind them, almost halfway down the horizon. Bouldy and Druma had still not returned. The crab had no time for this.

“Luckily for you,” said the merchant, “I find 131 gold a fair enough price for these.”

“Excellent,” the orc said, putting his glasses back in his pocket, while the crab counted his payment. “We will be sure to visit again soon, with more items for you.”

Finishing the trade, Balthazar accompanied the orcs back to the road.

“This was a prosperous encounter,” Khargol said, holding a fist against his chest in some form of salute. “I hope we will have many more. Until next time.”

“Yeah, sure, same to you. See you,” the hurrying crab said.

Somehow, an orc had managed to be a tougher client than most adventurers. For some reason, Balthazar found he could respect that, even if he would never admit it out loud. He still didn’t appreciate losing out on a couple of gold coins, however.

Gazing down the road again, he finally spotted his two workers returning.

The goblin carrying his tools, the golem shouldering two large tree trunks.

Balthazar approached as they reached the exit to the pond.

“Look who finally showed up! I thought I said before dusk!”

Between losing a cookie and the opportunity to make one or two extra gold coins, the crab was going to be in a bad mood for the rest of the day.

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