Merchant Crab

Balthazar woke up just as the sun appeared over the horizon.

Hurriedly stuffing some leftover pie from the previous night in his mouth, the crab rushed his way across the bridge to the trading post.

John, the carpenter, had promised to come down to the pond first thing in the morning to get started on the roof, and Balthazar wanted to be up and running business before he got there. He would have no Ardville citizen running gossip about him being a lazy crab who didn’t start his work day early. He wouldn’t give them that satisfaction. Appearances matter.

Sunlight was barely reaching into the area yet, making it harder for Balthazar to find his feather duster amid the mess of items between some boxes. His plan was to give some shelves a good dusting before the old man arrived, and give a look of having been up for a while, working since the early hours.

If the inhabitants of the nearby town were going to talk about him, he’d make sure they’d talk about how much of a hard worker the crab was.

And perhaps how good his shiny shell looked as well.

“Aha!” he exclaimed, finally finding his duster shoved inside the leg of a tall steel boot.

Grabbing the feather duster with his silver pincer, Balthazar turned to finding a good spot to clean when a gravelly voice startled him.

“Morning, crab.”

“Bah!” Balthazar yelled out, his duster flying off his pincer as he saw a large, shadowy figure appear by the entrance of his trading post, the faint light of the dawning sun not yet reaching into that corner.

“Didn’t mean to scare ya,” John’s husky voice said, as he stepped forward out of the shade and picked up the duster that had landed near his feet. “Thought you’d be up and about by now, so I figured I’d come down early to get started on things.”

“Right, yes,” Balthazar said, trying to compose himself after nearly having a heart attack that was in no way related to his diet of mostly sweets. “I’ve been up for a while now, done lots of things while waiting, even. I was just so focused on cleaning up that I didn’t hear you approaching, that’s all. I’m wide awake.”

“Now you surely are,” the man said, with a benevolent smile between his thick grizzly beard, as he handed the duster back to the crab. “If your fellas are up too, I could get started on the first pillar.”

“Uh, well, Bouldy won’t be a problem,” the merchant said, taking the duster and glancing back towards the central islet. “That one doesn’t actually sleep. But Druma… that one is always hard to wake up early in the—”

“Morning, boss!” the cheerful and wide awake goblin greeted as he suddenly came hopping into the trading post. “Druma ready to work!”

“What the…” the surprised crab exclaimed. “Since when do you willingly wake up this early?”

“Druma can’t sleep,” the green helper said, tapping his feet, his oversized hat bouncing up and down on his head. “Druma want to help John and learn to work wood better.”

Somehow, even after all that time, the small goblin’s excitement over things still managed to surprise Balthazar. And not in a bad way.

“Well then, good on you, Druma,” the crab said, before turning back to the old man. “Guess that means you got all you need to get started.”

“No wastin’ more time then,” John said, stepping forward towards the first corner. “Sunlight doesn’t last forever. We got a lot of work to do before we got ourselves a proper roof.”

Balthazar looked over at the sky. The morning light was only now finally beginning to spread across the pond and fully turning night into day.

Calling the golem over to join the group, the crab approached the area outside the trading post where they would be working. The tree trunks his two workers had previously gathered were piled horizontally on the ground, with many other smaller pieces of wood grouped nearby, next to a cutting board, a work table, and a paraphernalia of other working materials that Druma had thrown together the day before under the carpenter’s orders.

“Alright,” John said, putting down his heavy toolbox on the working table and unlocking it. “We’re going to start by turning those tree trunks into proper working pieces of wood for the support beams. That’s where the big guy will come in. With his strength to move them around easily and a good saw, we will get that done in no time. Meanwhile, the little guy can get started on digging a hole for the foundations. If you want a roof that doesn’t get toppled with the first gust of wind that hits it, you need to have a proper, solid foundation.”

Bouldy began lifting one of the trunks up onto his shoulder, while Druma quickly grabbed a shovel and made his way to the area where the first beam would be.

“Alright, and what about me? Do you need me to do something?” Balthazar asked. “Maybe trace some plans? Stand on some high vantage point and call out instructions? Go around making sure everyone works well together?”

The man chuckled.

“Nah, I think we’ll work better without a foreman walking around the build site,” he said. “Sorry. Without a forecrab. Let me do my thing and you do yours. Feel free to do your business and trading while we work. I’ll let you know if we need a pincer with something.”

The carpenter adjusted his smoking pipe into work mode and began rolling up his sleeves.

“Well, if you’re sure… I guess I’ll be over there,” Balthazar said, slowly walking away.

He wasn’t necessarily interested in doing any manual labor, but he still didn’t quite enjoy being excluded from the group activity.

Long had been the way since that lone crab who would loathe the idea of sharing the same space with anyone, let alone doing things in a group.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

If Balthazar didn’t take care, others might start getting the idea he even enjoys having company.

Couldn’t have that. Next thing he knew, they’d be expecting a discount.

Freeloaders, the lot of them.

And right on cue, as the crab returned to the platform, an adventurer stepped through the entrance.

He was an imposing man, mainly around the waist area, which was nearly the same size as the crab’s entire circumference. He had a thick mustache and his face was sweating profusely as he dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief, despite the coolness of that morning and his light clothing.

He wore a loose tunic shirt stained with sweat and very stretched out burlap pants, the only piece of armor on him being his steel boots.

“Holy tarts, he’s coming for my pastries. I better hide them,” the crab whispered under his breath while eyeing him through his monocle.

[Level 21 Horseman Fighter]

Balthazar took a moment to pity whatever the man’s mount might be.

“Oof! Good morning, good crab!” the panting man greeted. “Are you open yet?”

“Hello. Yes, sure. Come on in, make yourself at home,” Balthazar responded, before lowering his voice back to a whisper. “Just please don’t sit on anything.”

“Oh, thank goodness. I was just heading out onto the road when misfortune struck me and my chest armor broke,” the large adventurer said. “Total loss. All straps on it ripped apart and the lining completely torn. Unbelievable, it’s the third time it happened this month. I’m never going back to that armorer. Clearly his quality is shoddy.”

“And then they say I lack self-awareness,” the merchant muttered.

“What’s that?” the man asked.

“Nothing, nothing. Say, have you considered that maybe the problem is… well, never mind, not my place to make observations. What can I do for you?”

“Well, if it wasn’t obvious enough, I was hoping you had a replacement chest piece, so I don’t have to go back up to town.”

“Chest armor then, is it?” Balthazar hesitantly said. “Sure thing. Let’s see what we can get you.”

The crab looked through his displayed pieces of armor. Finding something that would fit the man was going to be a challenge.

“How about this iron chest plate?” he said, picking up the armor from a shelf and presenting it to the client. “Basic, but guaranteed to protect your… softer areas.”

“Maybe, maybe,” said the horseman. “I’ll have to try it on first.”

“Be my guest.”

The man started pulling at his shirt and undoing the first buttons on it.

“Aaaaalright, I don’t need to see this. I’m going to give you some privacy while you change and go check on some… work.”

The crab hurriedly skittered away from the scene and went to check in on the progress by the outside corner.

“Hey, guys, how’s the… pillar…”

Balthazar gazed in surprise at the support beam that had not only already been made, but also placed into the ground and fully held in place by a solid base built around it.

“I was… I was just here a few moments ago,” the befuddled crab said. “How in the hell did you guys already do all this while I was away?!”

“Elbow grease,” said John while putting down his hammer on the table. “Your fellas here being hard workers helps too.”

“Yes, but… still… how?” Balthazar asked, confusion spinning around inside his shell.

“A little help, please?!” a voice yelled from the center of the trading post.

Quickly running back, the crab found his client trying his best to fit the iron plate around his large torso. Unsuccessfully.

“I cannot seem to fasten these straps on the side,” he said, huffing and puffing. “Are you sure this piece is not defective?”

“Uh, no… certainly not defective, at least not yet,” Balthazar said, looking at the stretching leather with concern.

“Well, can’t you do anything? Get a breastplate stretcher or something!”

“A… what?”

“A breastplate stretcher!” the constricted man repeated. “You know, to… adjust the breastplate to my… physique.”

“I don’t think that’s a thing,” said the skeptical crab.

“Are you sure? I could swear I heard about them somewhere before,” the adventurer said, his face turning alarmingly red. “Well then, damn it, help me out of this thing before I stop breathing!”

Balthazar pulled at the front of the chest piece with all his strength until it finally dislodged itself from the man’s ‘robust’ figure.

“Oh, phew, that’s a relief,” he said, taking a deep breath and leaning down with his hands on his knees. “Alright, what else you got that is a more… muscular size?”

“Ehh… I’m afraid this is as big a size as I have,” Balthazar said. “But perhaps something less rigid and a bit more… stretchy?”

“Alright, fine, stretchy sounds good,” the other said, standing back straight and fanning himself with his hand. “Bring it on.”

The merchant returned to the shelf and put away the now very sweaty iron plate while retrieving a brown piece of armor.

“Here, let’s try this leather doublet.”

The client put each arm through the doublet with difficulty and then attempted to bring it together at the front. The leather creaked under the strain of being stretched over the man’s immense torso. With beads of sweat rolling down his face, he finally managed to button it up halfway down the front before giving up doing the rest.

“Not too bad looking, huh?” he said.

The white fabric of his tunic was appearing from the spaces between each button as he moved around, and Balthazar suspected that had the doublet a mouth, it would be screaming for dear life.

“I like it,” the horseman said. “Gives me a very… athletic look.”

As he moved to flex an arm, one button at the very front of the doublet suddenly shot out with great force, whizzing right past the crab’s shell and hitting a metal helmet on a shelf with a loud plink.

They both looked in awe at the button’s trajectory, which shot up after ricocheting off the helmet and hit a bird that was flying by above. With a loud squawk, the bird dropped limp from the sky and landed motionless on the central islet, right in front of the red cushion where Blue was asleep, startling her awake. The drake lifted her head and looked at the bird first and then around and up, confused by the sudden food delivery.

“Can… can you do that again?” the baffled crab asked.

“Bah! It’s no use!” the man said, while angrily taking off the doublet. “This won’t do either. It clearly cannot contain my… musculature. Surely you must have something else?”

Balthazar glanced back at his shelves. “Hmm… only thing I could imagine might fit you would be some robes, but…”

“Sure, whatever, just let me try them,” the impatient client said, motioning with his hand for the crab to give them to him.

The merchant gave him the biggest size of robes he had in stock and watched as he put them on.

“Ah! Much better. This fits nicely and is not restrictive at all. Very comfortable, too.”

“Yes, but like I was saying, those are wizard robes.”

“Hmm, that’s inconvenient. I am a fighter, after all.”

“What are you fighting? Hunger?” the crab said under his breath.

“Did you say something?”

“No, no. Just agreeing that it’s a shame those robes don’t work very well for a fighter.”

“Hmm,” the man pondered, while looking at his loose sleeves. “Perhaps I should just wear these. What’s the worst that could happen, anyway? I’m a more than capable warrior. I have no need for armor if I never let anyone strike me. Really, if anything, the armor only restricts my agility in combat.”

“You sure that’s the only thing restricting it?”

“That’s it!” the other said, ignoring the crab’s question. “I shall start a new trend! A robed fighter. Ha-ha! People will remember this moment as the beginning of something new, crab. How much for the robe?”

“I’m sure they will,” Balthazar said. “And the robe costs 15 gold. 16, if you ask me to fold it for you.”

Pocketing the payment into his money bag, the merchant watched his satisfied (with himself) client leave, his chins held high as he strutted away in his new wizard robe.

“Oh well, at least he can’t say I persuaded him into that one,” said the crab, as he walked back to the build site.

“Where did everybody go?”

Balthazar looked around, confused by the absence of the carpenter or his assistants, until he looked to the other corner of the platform and saw them all there, with yet another support beam already fully built.

“How in the hell do all those keep showing up all finished every time I turn around?!”