Merchant Crab

For a witch, she sure looked nice. Maybe a little too much skin and not enough chitin, but still, not bad. And her eyes, like two precious gems that made a crab want to just pluck them and hide them in a hole.

Balthazar found himself wondering if she knew how to bake, too.

He was experiencing many strange and confusing feelings, but for whatever strange reason, that wasn’t bothering him too much.

Just like the sharp blade of the sickle the witch was holding wasn’t bothering him, either.

He wondered if such a circular blade was any good for cutting pies.

Even more important than that, he wondered what was Velvet’s favorite pie.

He would have to ask her as soon as figured out how to stop making bubbles with his mouth and how to speak properly again.

She raised her right arm high in the air, the blade she held reflecting the pale moonlight across its edge, but Balthazar was sure there was no reason for concern. Such an entrancing woman could surely be trusted, and would never harm him.

Some dampened noise came from behind her, like a rustling or shuffling. The crab wasn’t too worried about it, but Velvet pulled her eyes away from his to look behind herself.

Blue walked around the rock, observing the two figures sitting by the water with a frown of suspicion.

The witch, still holding the sickle above her head, widened her eyes and lost her smile as she saw the creature approach.

“What do you want, you stupid thing?” the witch said, her voice sounding much more bitter and unpleasant than it was mere moments before. “Shoo, go away. Can’t you see we’re in the middle of something important? Quit ruining my moment.”

Blue’s brow furrowed.

“Wha… what were we talking about?” the dazed crab mumbled. “Blue? What are you doing here?”

Velvet quickly lowered her blade and turned her attention back to Balthazar, a smile back on her face.

“Shh, never mind that. We were having a little heart-to-heart, remember? Hey, look at me. Let’s focus back on that, darling, alright?”

“But I thought… hey, wait a moment. Is that a sickle?!” Balthazar shook his shell vigorously. “What the hell were you trying to do to me?”

As if waking up from a bad nap, the groggy crab tried focusing his thoughts back into place.

Rapid questions ran through his mind as he tried to make sense of everything.

Was he really considering taking her offer?

Why was he even listening to what that woman said?

Was Velvie really about to bring that blade down on him?

Why the hell was he calling the witch “Velvie” in his head?

“You know how dangerous the world out here is, Balthie,” the witch said. “A woman has to carry something to protect herself. Now stop worrying about that and focus back on our chat, will you?”

“Nah, I don’t think I will,” Balthazar said. “You had me under some kind of… something, I don’t know what, but there is no way I would ever consider letting you cut me up unless I was out of my damn mind, witch.”

Blue let out a low growl as she slowly stalked forward, her yellow eyes firmly placed on the black-clad woman.

“Now, there is no need to get harsh, darling,” she said, glancing back at the drake as she stood up from the ground. “We were so close to coming to terms. I was going to let you have the petals you so desperately need, too.”

With her free hand, she revealed the vial containing the frostshade again.

“On the contrary,” the crab said, “I think when someone intends to slice me up with a sickle is exactly the time to get harsh.”

Behind the woman, the drake lifted her arms from the ground and stood on her hind legs before letting out a warning roar.

“Balthazar,” the witch began, taking a reluctant step back in order to keep both the crab and the drake in her sight, “it’s not too late to reconsider things. We can still come to an agreement. Just order your drake to stand down and let’s talk about this.”

Balthazar gave Velvet a spiteful smile.

“I’m sorry, my dear, but that one does not obey a single order I give her.”

Stretching her wings wide, the drake stretched her head forward and opened her mouth. A screech came out, along with a bright blue jet of fire that shot straight at the witch, who barely had time to duck under the flames.

The witch wailed as her long black hair caught on fire. Desperately flailing her arms around, she dropped both the sickle and the vial on the sand before darting past the other two and throwing herself into the water.

Between her screams and a sizzling noise, a large cloud of black smoke emerged above the water, along with the intense smell of burnt hair.

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“Phew, that’s a horrible stench!” Balthazar said, while waving a pincer up and down in front of his face to disperse the smell.

As the smoke cleared, both the crab and the drake looked down into the water, looking for signs of the witch, but only ripples remained.

“Did… did she dissolve or something?” the befuddled crab asked. “Nah, can’t be. No way the water would still look this clear with that evil witch mixed in it. Damn magic users and their disappearing acts.”

Turning his attention to Blue, Balthazar spoke to her.

“Didn’t expect you to come through for me, but hey, good job! Maybe you’re finally gaining some respect!”

The drake threw her head away disdainfully and started walking back to where she came.

“Or not,” the annoyed crab said. “I should have known it was too good to be true. You were probably just doing whatever you felt like, as usual.”

Looking down at the ground, his eyes caught a glint from glass in the sand.

“The vial!”

Quickly picking it up with his silver pincer, Balthazar brought it up against the sparse light from the moon. The petals of frostshade he needed were still inside it, tiny and dry.

Running along the shore and through the wooden bridge, he made his way to his tent and dug through his disorganized boxes, baskets, and bags.

“Damn it, damn it, damn it! Where did I put it?!”

Finally finding it, the crab pulled a bottle of clear liquid from a basket where he kept other equally valuable items, such as leftover pieces of pie and some butter cookies.

With great caution and care, Balthazar uncorked the only dose of the potion the shaman had left for him.

“Alright, now I just have to do like the old lady said,” he muttered, while carefully picking one petal from the vial with the tip of his left pincer. “One petal in…”

He dropped the piece of flower in the transparent liquid and it hissed softly before gaining a light blue hue.

“Shake it…”

Putting the cork back on it, Balthazar used his dexterous pincer to give it a vigorous shake.

“And then add one more,” he continued telling himself, while uncorking the potion again and picking one more petal.

The substance gained an even deeper blue color, and he repeated the shaking movements.

[Item crafted. Experience gained.]

[[Frostshade Antidote] created.]

“Nope, I have no interest in becoming the Alchemist Crab, thank you very much. There are already way too many damn alchemists around here for my taste.”

Hurriedly skittering his way to Druma’s bed, he found the goblin still asleep, skin a pale green and covered in cold sweat.

“Hang on, little guy, you’re going to be alright soon,” Balthazar murmured as he used his iron pincer to prop the assistant up into a sitting position. “Hopefully.”

Extending his long stone arm, the observing golem behind the bed held the goblin in place with one of his hands.

“Thanks, Bouldy,” the crab said to the giant boulder. “Alright, here we go. Bottoms up, Druma.”

Holding it with his silver pincer, Balthazar dumped the contents of the potion bottle down his assistant’s throat.

“Let him down, gently,” he told the golem.

As the goblin was laid back down on the hay, the impatient merchant stared at him intently, looking for any reaction.

“Come on, come on! Why can’t it be an instant effect like the health potions? So arbitrary!”

Druma’s eyes remained closed, in what at least now appeared to be a relatively quiet sleep.

“Ugh, I hate waiting, but I guess that’s all we can do now.”

The crab walked a few paces away to his tent and pulled his purple cushion out, dragging it closer to the pile of hay. Placing it next to the goblin’s bed, he climbed on top of the fluffy pillow before lowering himself comfortably onto it.

After all the chaos and worry, Balthazar had almost forgotten how little rest he’d been getting lately, and just sitting on his cushion instantly made his eye stalks feel heavy.

With his sights still set on his assistant, he fought the urge to sleep, but that was one battle he would not be winning on that day, and before too long, the crab had fallen asleep.

***

Balthazar floated peacefully through the waters of his pond, carelessly admiring the beauty of the land around him as he dreamed. In the air, he could feel the smell of fresh baked pies. Looking up at the bright night sky full of stars, the crab spotted a winged figure flying in circles above.

He felt at ease and relaxed. For whatever reason, the water around him was not as cool and refreshing as he was used to, but warm and steamy. It made his soft insides feel good within his shell. Shell which, he was realizing, was gray again, all the different metal finishes gone from it.

It mattered not. He was just a crab, enjoying life. Not a care in the world.

He felt he was forgetting something, however.

Someone?

He looked over at the shore. Something was missing.

Furniture? Where were all the shelves and the crates, all the things crafted with scraps of wood?

Where was the goblin who built them?

And why did the nice smell of pie was slowly being replaced with the smell of burnt pastries?

As the crab tried to stand back straight in the water, he felt it much hotter, nearly boiling, the pleasant feeling replaced with discomfort.

The winged creature up in the sky let out an echoing roar, like a warning wail.

Looking down to the side, Balthazar noticed something under the surface, a dark figure rising to the surface.

Before he could try to figure out what it was, the figure breached the waters.

A witch of pale skin and black dressing emerged, one arm raised high, a sharp sickle in her hand, ready to strike down at him.

Balthazar recoiled and covered his face with his claws, expecting the worst.

Nothing happened. No more sounds, no more smell.

“Boss?” a distant voice said.

As the crab slowly moved his claws back down, a blinding sunlight flooded his vision.

***

Two large eyes with black irises were staring down at Balthazar.

“Booooss?”

“AH!” the crab screamed as he jumped up from his pillow.

It was morning, and the sky was bright and blue, its light blurring Balthazar’s vision.

As he struggled to focus his eyes, he looked at the goblin standing next to his cushion, wizard hat on his head, vivid green back on his skin.

“Druma! You’re awake!” the relieved crab exclaimed.

“Yes, yes,” said the goblin. “Druma feel better! But is boss alright? Boss was having bad dream and talking about witches.”

“Oh, never mind that, just a nightmare. It’s not important. What’s important is that you recovered!”

The crab smiled as he held both pincers out next to the goblin. “Look at you, all healthy again!”

“Eh… is boss sure boss is alright?” Druma said, with a concerned expression. “Boss is too… nice. Is boss sick too?”

Balthazar laughed, the feeling of the weight that had been lifted off his shell filling him with nearly as much joy as a whole pie in his stomach could.

“I feel great, Druma, don’t worry. I’m just happy you’re alright, and… and I think it’s important that I tell you that, because while you were lying there passed out and feverish, all I kept remembering was how crabby I had been to you right before, while you and Bouldy came to my rescue. I felt… bad. There, I said it.”

Druma scratched the back of his head and frowned in confusion.

“But Druma thought boss was crab. Crab is crabby, no?”

“Well, yes, but I meant…” Balthazar struggled with his words. “Look, all I’m saying is that I’m happy you made it, and that I’ll try to be less grumpy, alright?”

Druma gave a toothy smile and nodded.

“Druma no understand what happen to boss, but Druma like it.”

“Sure, let’s work with that.”

Balthazar wasn’t yet sure how best to approach a nicer attitude, but he was finding himself at least willing to try it.

So long as the goblin didn’t bring up the subject of monetary compensation for injury on the job, of course. Even the crab’s good intentions had their limits.

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