Merchant Crab

“A what now?!” Tom asked in disbelief.

“An independent… settlement,” the crab repeated slowly.

“You, Balthazar, want to turn this place into a settlement?” said Rye, holding back a mocking smile. “The Balthazar we all know? The crab who hates company and wants his pond all to himself?”

“Yes, Rye, me,” the merchant responded, looking unamused. “And who says that just because I want to turn this into a settlement that has to mean I want to give up my pond?”

“I’m… not sure you understand what a settlement is,” Rye said.

“Oh, but I do,” the crab insisted. “I don’t actually want much to change about how things work around here. My intention is to declare this place an independent area, its own governing body, so as to complicate matters for Antoine or anyone else who keeps messing with us. One thing is screwing with the inhabitants of a roadside pond in the middle of nowhere, another is to do it with a neighboring settlement. Trust me, I’ve read a lot of books on diplomacy and politics. And also a bunch of intrigue novels.”

“So, your idea,” Rye started, stroking his chin, “is to put the pressure on Antoine if he tries to do anything against you, by making it… a diplomatic matter?”

“Now you’re starting to get it! Nobody cares if the big merchant sends goons down the road out of town to rough up some talking animals, but if this was a proper place on the map, I bet Ardville’s mayor and his people wouldn’t like Antoine stirring the pot and causing conflict like that.”

“That’s a bit…” Rye winced lightly. “I don’t know, far-fetched?”

“And how would you intend to make the humans recognize your claim?” Khargol asked. “What’s stopping them from seeing you as a threat right outside their door and send men down here to torch this place?”

“Appearances! And, of course, money,” Balthazar responded. “Every adventurer and their mother knows about this place by now. Everyone has stopped by and traded here at some point or another. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned even the people in power seem to care a lot about, is keeping adventurers happy. Besides, I don’t intend to act like some hostile military force stationed outside their border. I’m a friendly merchant crab! Happy and willing to trade and build business relationships with my neighbors! You never heard that you’ll catch more crabs with cookies than with vinegar?”

“I… I don’t think that’s how the saying—” Rye said sheepishly.

“Anyway!” Balthazar exclaimed. “All of this will take time, and a lot of work to get to. For now, we need to start with smaller steps. Don’t worry about the details of the greater plan. Just trust that I have it all figured out, will you?”

The crab looked around the table with arms open and a wide smile once more.

Instead of the cheering he expected, everyone was awkwardly quiet, shifting around in their seats, or playing with their piece of pie. At least the crickets in the background were willing to cheer him on.

“Right, I’ll let you all warm up to my idea over time,” Balthazar said, sitting back down and breaking a piece of pie from his slice. “Now, can I at least get to some good news I’ve been trying to give before everyone kept derailing the conversation?”

Seeing that no one protested, the crab turned his attention to his right.

“Madeleine,” he started, “I’ve got something for you.”

“For me?!” the surprised baker asked, halfway through bringing a small piece of pie up to her mouth.

“Yes, for you. Tristan, if you would, please?” Balthazar said, without looking away from Madeleine. “Tristan?”

The crab finally turned to his left, where the drunkard appeared to have dozed off, the plate in front of him already picked clean. Even Balthazar wasn’t sure how someone could have eaten all that pie so fast, without him noticing, and already have fallen asleep on the spot like that.

“Tristan!”

“Huh?! What?! Who? How many??” the startled man blurted out, jolting awake.

“The deed, please,” the crab said bitterly.

“Oh, right, right!” Tristan said, quickly looking through his jacket's pockets. “Here you go, partner!”

“Thanks,” said Balthazar, taking the rolled-up piece of parchment with his pincer and turning back to the baker. “This is the deed for a new stall spot on the market in town. I’d like you to move your business there, so that Antoine can no longer extort you with his inflated rent prices as a way to get back at me.”

“What?” Madeleine said, looking flabbergasted. “Balthazar, you can’t be serious, right? You… you went and bought a market spot, with your gold, for me?”

The baker’s big green eyes started looking shinier than usual as she dropped the piece of pie back on her plate and held her hands together against her chest, staring at the piece of paper like it was a baby drake or a talking toad. Balthazar began feeling too awkward for his taste.

“Uh, yes, I did. Looks like I’m your new landlord now.” The crab chuckled nervously. “Anyway, just, uh, make sure you move your stuff there tomorrow so you can get away from Antoine’s grasp as soon as—”

Before Balthazar could react, he found his shell being wrapped into a hug by the baker’s arms, her soft face pressed against his rough chitin above his eye stalks. “Thank you, Balthazar!”

The crab was taken aback and unsure of what to do as he wondered why his shell felt slightly moist where her cheek was, and whether that was normal for humans or if he should be concerned that something was wrong with her.

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Henrietta sniffed loudly and started trying to wipe her eyes with her forelegs. “Oh, gosh! I’m so sorry, I just can’t help it when I see scenes like this. I get so emotional. You really do have a heart deep under all that rough exterior. I would have never expected you to actually go and spend your own coin to buy a market space for someone else other than yourself, and then to just give it away to her rent-free.”

“Wait, what?!” Balthazar exclaimed in surprise, as the girl finally let go of him and sat back in her chair, smiling and wiping away her cheeks.

The crab looked around in confusion before his gaze landed on Tristan, who widened his eyes at him and gave him a discreet head tilt.

“Oh, heh, right, of course,” the golden merchant said nervously. “And from now on, Madeleine, you don’t have to worry about rent anymore. It’s… it’s all… free.” The last part of his sentence was nearly a whisper, as Balthazar felt a small portion of himself dying inside.

“Again, thank you so much, Balthazar,” the overjoyed baker said. “You have no idea how much this means to me. The last few weeks have been terrible, trying to make ends meet. It’s such a massive weight off my shoulders.” She smiled even more and placed a hand over his pincer. “And if you won’t let me pay rent, then from now on, mister, you can expect free pastries for life. No arguing allowed either!”

Balthazar’s eye stalks perked up as he felt another portion of himself come alive inside him. “No arguing from me!”

“Hey, so, uh, not to ruin the nice moment or anything,” Rob’s voice said from within his bush, accompanied by chewing noises and lip smacking, “but what exactly am I here for?”

“You mean aside from stealing other people’s pie?” Balthazar said, pointing a claw at the empty plate in front of Tom, who clearly hadn’t eaten anything.

“Hey, what the…” the skeleton exclaimed, jolting up in his seat. “When did he do that?!” He looked around and then lifted the plate to look underneath it, as if expecting a large chunk of pie to be hidden there somehow.

“What? It’s not like he was gonna eat it!” the thief argued, his mouth still sounding full.

“Ah, whatever, he’s right. Let him have it,” said the skeleton with a slight cackle of amusement.

“Alright, well, your job, Rob,” Balthazar said, pulling his plate slightly closer to himself, despite being on the opposite side of the table from the thief, “will be to keep your ear to the ground in the town’s underworld. Knowing what we know about Antoine now, he is likely to try something against Madeleine or her stand after he finds out what we just did. I want you to find out if he tries to hire any thugs or makes any moves, and if so, immediately inform Madeleine so she can get out of dodge. Last thing we need is him turning anyone else into another animal.”

“Right, right!” Tristan said, nodding vigorously. “Let’s not allow him to make any more victims like Henrietta and Balthazar.”

“What do you mean, like me?” the crab asked.

The drunkard looked at him with a confused gaze. “You know, like you said, turning people into animals. Isn’t that what he did to you?”

“What?! No!” Balthazar yelled. “What the hell are you on about? I’ve always been a crab!”

“Oh! really? This whole time I thought you used to be a cranky old man.”

“Oh, for the love of pie…” the crabby merchant muttered, rubbing the space between his eye stalks with a pincer. “Anyhow, that’s another point. We need to find a way to reverse Henrietta’s curse. Antoine paid an adventurer, a witch called Velvet, to turn her into the toad we see now. If any of you ever encounter her, we need to capture her and get her to undo whatever spell she did.”

“Hey, uh, Balthazar?” Tristan said, looking unusually sheepish. “Do you think this curse could be like in those stories?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know… cursed into an amphibian form… the only way to turn back is a kiss from a charming prince…”

“I am not kissing any frogs, Tristan!” Balthazar quickly exclaimed. “We find the witch. That’s the plan!”

“I… I didn’t mean you…” the blushing drunk whispered, his voice fading so quiet no one else heard him.

“I appreciate your kindness, and everyone else’s. Truly,” Henrietta said, trying to ignore the previous exchange.

“What about you two?” Balthazar asked, looking at Tom and Khargol. “What do you say? Can I count on you to help spread the word among the other sentient creatures out there that Balthazar’s Bazaar is a safe and open market to do business?”

“Hell, why not? I’m in!” said the skeleton. “I like this nice little place you’ve got, and if it meant I could come straight here some nights and trade in one spot instead of hauling my hip bones all the way across the land to do business, I’d be happy to shell out for your bazaar.” Tom cackled again, his jaw bone bouncing up and down. “Get it? Shell out? Hah! Priceless!”

Ignoring the skeleton’s humor, the orc next to him stroked his chiseled chin in contemplation. “Hmm, this arrangement could be an agreeable one, under the condition that we do not have to deal with any humans during those hours.”

“Absolutely!” said Balthazar. “Adventurers are hardly ever on the road during night hours, and we’d keep watch outside to ensure no pesky humans—present company excluded—crashed our party.”

“Then I shall see that those we trade with will learn of your bazaar and your intentions,” Khargol declared, with a nod.

“Excellent! Then I think that settles most of the important matters we needed to get this going.” The crab started listing things off while using his pincers to count them. “Madeleine will move to her new spot tomorrow, getting away from Antoine’s grasp. Rob will keep an eye on any shady moves he might pull against her. Henrietta will stay here helping at the bazaar during the night. Khargol and Tom will spread word about our after dark deals. Yep, I think that’s everything covered.”

“Well, not to sound like I’m complaining,” John interjected, leaning forward from his chair, pipe in hand while he chewed the last of his pie slice, “this has been very entertaining and I’m having plenty of fun watching you all go back and forth, but I’m still not sure what I’m here for.”

“Oh, right, I almost forgot about you there,” Balthazar said, scratching the side of his shell.

“Must be because of the bush I’m sitting next to,” the carpenter said with a chuckle.

“Well, I wanted you in on this because I figured that with the plans to keep expanding and turning this place into an independent settlement, there will be a lot of need for construction, and I don’t really know anyone else for that. So… I was hoping you’d be willing to help with building whatever becomes necessary in the future? You’d be paid for your work, of course.”

“Hah! That’s it?” the amused old man said, placing his wooden pipe back in the corner of his lip. “You could have said it from the start. So long as it’s about building things, you can count on me. Beats staying locked up in my workshop all day fixing wagon wheels. Would feel nice contributing to something new and purposeful, for once.”

“Great to hear,” said the crab, turning to the rest of the table. “Now, unless someone else has anything to add, I think this will be all. Meeting’s over, this council is adjourned, you can all go home, or whatever.”

“Wait,” said Rye. “This feels like a pretty important thing you’re starting here with this group. Shouldn’t we decide on a name for ourselves?”

“Why?” Balthazar asked, squinting at the archer. He was really looking forward to seeing them all leave so he could finally tackle the remaining pie all on his own.

“I don’t know,” the young adventurer said with a shrug. “It just feels like something important groups do.”

“Fine, whatever,” the crab said, glancing at the half pie left on the large plate, beckoning him with its glistening beauty. “Anyone have any suggestions for a name, so we can get on with this?”

The members of the group exchanged looks and a few shrugs at each other, but no one made a claim for a name.

“Come on, anything?” the increasingly frustrated merchant pleaded, gazing longingly at the pie. “I really want to go back to that pie, and you guys aren’t helping much.”

“Oh, that’s it!” Henrietta exclaimed with a sudden croak. “Why not call this The Pie Council? Sounds very fitting to me.”

“That’s a completely silly name,” Balthazar said. “We’ll take it. I now declare the first meeting of The Pie Council officially over!”

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