Merchant Crab

Another morning began, and Balthazar was up and ready to start his day. Druma had spent the night sleeping on a small stack of hay covered with a discarded tarp, with a belly full of meat, which had shown an effect on him already, as his skin looked a more vivid green, and even his ribs seemed less protruding than the night before.

While he knew the goblin needed a good night’s rest to regain his strength, Balthazar also didn’t plan on spending precious food he could sell to adventurers on a lazy assistant that didn’t help him at all.

“Time to wake up, meat lover,” Balthazar said, while holding two pieces of beef jerky next to his new assistant’s bulbous nose.

The goblin lazily rubbed his eyes as he stood up from his makeshift bed, looking around for the source of the smell.

“Like I told you yesterday, you’re not a slave anymore, and I’ll give you food and let you stay here, but you will have to be willing to work for it.”

“Yes, yes,” Druma agreed, nodding vigorously as he took the jerky.

“So, come with me,” said Balthazar, while stepping closer to the shallowest part of the pond, where he left some wooden boards. “See these planks? I want you to build a walkway over this water, so we don’t have to step on the rocks to cross here. Got it?”

The goblin stared at the planks with his mouth slightly open, half chewed pieces of meat still in it, while scratching the top of his hairless head.

“What crab want??” the confused goblin finally asked.

Balthazar let out a deep sigh. He knew it would not be easy, but he still had some hope the goblin would at least understand enough to try. He had hands, surely he would do a better job than someone with pincers for fingers ever could.

Bringing up his status screen, he checked his party page again. As he had learned the previous day, the two of them could form a party (which did not involve any cake, much to Balthazar’s disappointment), and that linked them into the same group. He could now freely see the goblin’s stats, and they weren’t particularly impressive.

[Party Members]

[Name: Druma] [Race: Goblin] [Class: None] [Level: 3]

[Attributes]

[Strength: 2] [Agility: 4] [Intelligence: 2]

He couldn’t help but notice the fact that the screen showed no skills. Could it be because the goblin was too low level? Could he even level up?

Balthazar had even taken the Scroll of Creation during the night and attempted to poke the sleeping goblin’s hand with it, just out of curiosity, but the scroll remained dormant as it had been since the first day.

“If only you were a little bit more intelligent, buddy, maybe you’d understand things beyond basic commands, eh?”

The goblin tilted his head and gave the crab a bemused look as he gnawed on his piece of jerky.

“More intelligence!” Balthazar suddenly shouted. “That’s it!”

Rushing towards a pile of mixed clothing he had been slowly amassing and promising himself he’d soon fold, the crab frantically searched through it until he found an old pointy gray hat. The same one the fallen wizard had been wearing before his untimely death.

“Here, you have a proper head, unlike me. Try putting this on, Druma.”

The goblin gave him an even more confused look, but obliged, taking the Hat of Enlightenment with both hands and putting it on. It fit around his large head, despite still looking quite oversized for how small the rest of him was.

Seeing no visible changes, Balthazar looked at the status screen again.

[Party Members]

[Name: Druma] [Race: Goblin] [Class: None] [Level: 3]

[Attributes]

[Strength: 2] [Agility: 4] [Intelligence: 2 (+2)]

The number was there, and the hat hadn’t automatically fallen off like it did with Balthazar, but would it make enough of a difference?

“Druma,” he called, breaking the goblin’s attention away from his last bit of meat, “can you try to build a path with these planks from here to the other side?”

The goblin looked at the wood, and then at the space between their side of the water and the shore by the entrance before nodding. “Druma will build, boss!”

With a quick step to it, the goblin began laying out the wooden boards and moving small rocks around, preparing his work place.

It worked. Or at least it seemed like it would. Who knows how good a goblin is at building bridges. But for now Balthazar was satisfied with his progress, and so he started heading out to the side of the road, where the first adventurers of that morning were already approaching.

***

Balthazar looked up at the sky. The sun had just begun its way down from its highest point, which, according to the strange clicking device a peculiar mage had traded him that morning, meant it was just past midday.

He figured whatever kind of magic was in his Monocle of Examination must have been like what this item had. Except it must allow it to look at the sun’s position from behind its glass, instead of items or people, hence why they call it a “watch.” Clearly, not even their mysterious arcane artifacts were a match to his superior intellect anymore.

Deciding he would still put it up for sale, Balthazar laid out the small watch next to his other trinkets and pieces of jewelry. After all, why would he need it when he could look up at the sun and tell the time just fine?

If it was night and there was no sun, then it meant it was sleep time, and he had no need to know the time while sleeping. And if it was just too cloudy or rainy to see the sun, then it meant it was nap time, which also didn’t require knowing the time. Crabs had it all figured out, and humans were silly. That was the lesson to learn there.

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Turning to his pond, Balthazar was impressed with Druma’s work. He might be small, but he was quite nimble and willing to work.

After spending all morning working a stone foundation and nailing wooden boards, the unlikely assistant had constructed a reasonably sturdy walkway from the edge of the pond all the way to the inner isle, eliminating the need to wade through water, or jump from stone to stone.

The goblin was now doing his best to drag a large wooden stake around the central area in front of the old tree, preparing to make the shelter Balthazar had attempted—and failed—to create before.

It had somewhat of a comedic aspect to it, watching a scrawny goblin in ragged pants going around doing manual labor while wearing a large wizard hat. But whatever got the job done, Balthazar figured.

Turning around to move some boxes away from the road, the crab saw a familiar figure coming down from town. The white attire, long braid dropped over her shoulder, and the large wicker basket in hand filled Balthazar with excitement.

“Madeleine!” he greeted loudly, vigorously waving one claw at her.

“Hello again, mister crab,” she responded, with an open smile.

Carefully grabbing them from behind some rolled up towels, Balthazar offered two plates on top of a book to the baker. “I washed them for you. The plates, of course! Not the book.”

“Thank you, that’s nice of you,” Madeleine said, with a laugh, as she received the three objects. “I knew they would be in good hands. Well, good pincers.”

Putting the plates and book in her basket, she opened the other lid and retrieved something flat and circular, of beige color, with browned edges, and covered in what looked like fine white sand.

“Try this,” she offered.

“What is it?”

“It’s a cookie. A butter cookie. Go on, give it a taste.”

Intrigued, Balthazar held the small and fragile cookie in his pincers. It smelled quite nice once it was closer to him, just not as intense as the pies. He gave it a nibble, and tiny pieces of it crumbled in his mouth, less dry than he expected from their texture. The sandy substance covering it was very sweet, and he suspected it to be what the recipe book had listed as “sugar.”

“This is very good,” Balthazar finally said, with a thoughtful expression, while shoving the rest of the cookie in his mouth.

“But…?” Madeleine said, with an eyebrow raised.

“But I could see myself eating many of these in a day, and they are… well… kind of small, compared to a pie.”

The girl laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. “Oh, you are a funny crab. These are cookies. You don’t bake just one of them at a time like pies.”

Reaching into her basket, Madeleine retrieved a large glass jar, filled all the way to the top with many cookies identical to the one Balthazar had just eaten.

“Oooooh, my baker,” the crab exclaimed, with an expression of awe at the transparent jar held in front of him. “Are these all for me?”

“Sure, I brought them for you. But it seems like you’ve been busy making more friends?”

Madeleine was looking over the crab’s shell at the goblin wrestling a tarp by the tree.

“Oh, that’s right,” Balthazar said, breaking away from his jar gazing. “You haven’t met him yet.”

Signaling the girl to follow him, he crossed the small bridge and called for the goblin. “Hey, Druma, you can take a break now. Come over here.”

Putting his stone hammer down, the goblin readjusted his hat and wiped the sweat off his forehead as he joined them.

“This is Madeleine. She is the nice baker I told you about earlier, remember? And Madeleine, this is Druma, my new employee. He started this morning.”

“Well, hello there, Druma. I would say I’m surprised to meet a friendly goblin, but after meeting a talking crab, I think nothing shocks me anymore. That’s a nice hat you have there, by the way.”

“Thank. Boss give Druma hat. Druma feel more smart with hat,” the goblin said, with a wide grin, while tapping his feet in place.

“That was nice of you,” Madeleine said to Balthazar. “How did you two meet? I’ve never seen goblins come anywhere near this area, and something tells me you didn’t go out there and start looking for friends.”

“I just traded some old tome for him with a rich guy,” Balthazar responded with a casual shrug.

“What do you mean?” Madeleine asked, puzzled. “You bought him? Like a slave?!”

“Silver man very bad!” Druma interjected. “He starve Druma. Hurt Druma. Make Druma carry stuff. Crab boss make silver man free Druma with magic book. Druma work for crab boss now. Boss let Druma have meat and sleep. Druma like to build. Druma happy now.”

Madeleine stared at the goblin with an expression of pity and concern. “Oh, I’m so sorry that happened to you, Druma. I didn’t know. No creature should ever be treated like that. But what about family? Don’t you have anyone to go back to? A tribe?”

“No.” The goblin tilted his head down slightly, the rim of his hat covering part of his face as he stared at his own feet. “Old tribe boss send Druma away. Say Druma too small. Too weak. Good for nothing. Big goblins throw Druma out into forest. Food for spiders. Then silver man find Druma. Put iron thing around neck.” He rubbed the side of his neck, a noticeable shiver running through him.

“I can’t imagine what you have been through,” Madeleine said, in a low and plaintive voice, while placing a hand on the goblin’s shoulder. “Nobody deserves that. And I hope that now that you are free, you will find new joy in doing what you love. Whether it’s building or annoying a cranky crab.” She gave him a sincere smile, and the goblin did his best to return it as he let go of his neck.

“You know what you are?” The baker turned back to Balthazar, who had been quiet so far, unsure of what to say. “You are a big softie. Under that hard shell and grumpy mood, you are softer than the butter I use for my baking.”

Balthazar looked up at the branches of the tree. Seemed like the weather was going to hold. Perhaps a bit windy. Maybe he should wash some clothes later.

“Did your new assistant make this bridge, too?” Madeleine asked him, seeing his attempt at looking distracted. “I don’t remember it being here last time. It’s pretty nice work.”

“Yes,” Balthazar quickly said, thankful for the change of subject. “Turns out he’s pretty handy with these things.”

“You know,” Madeleine began, with a sly tone, “your employee seems to have been working really hard all morning. Don’t you think he deserves something?”

“What?” Balthazar responded, confused. “Oh, you mean the cookies? But I thought they were just for—”

Madeleine gave the crab’s shell a nudge with her elbow. It didn’t physically hurt, but it still caused some pain. To his spirit.

“Oh, alright,” Balthazar conceded. “Would you like to try a cookie, Druma?”

The baker opened the lid of the jar and took out a cookie, offering it to the goblin.

“Meat?” Druma asked, while sniffing the air around the strange new thing being held in front of him. “No meat! Bah! Sweet! Druma no like sweet!”

The goblin pulled away as if he was afraid of the cookie, while making a bitter face and sticking his tongue out in disgust.

“Hey, that’s rude!” Balthazar scolded.

“It’s alright. He doesn’t like sweet things. Don’t worry, I will find a way to win him over,” Madeleine said, with a wink.

“Well, fine. You should go have a lunch break now,” Balthazar said to the goblin. “There are some cured meats over by the sacks over there. Just don’t eat my whole supply.”

Druma happily made his way to his lunch, licking his lips.

“Your business is growing well, I see,” Madeleine said, looking around. “You got lots of… stuff.”

“Yes, these adventurers might be a nuisance sometimes, but they’re also an endless source of, well, stuff.”

“Come now, they’re not that bad, really. Most of them are nice people. Plus, they help complete all sorts of jobs and save the town from dangers all the time.”

“Look at you. Someone’s an adventurer fan girl, eh?” Balthazar teased, nudging her leg with one claw, while grabbing a butter cookie with the other.

“Don’t be like that,” Madeleine said, still smiling. “I just think things were worse back before they started showing up. Roads were more dangerous with wild animals, people would be taken by bandits, or worse things, and even inside the city walls, we weren’t always safe. Now, at least, there’s someone fighting back and actually making a difference.”

“Yeah, and greedily looting everything that isn’t nailed down while they’re at it,” said the crab, with his mouth full of cookie. “They just start showing up one day, solving everybody’s problems, going around doing quests, or whatever. Where did they all come from, anyway?”

“I’m not sure anyone really knows. Some say they came from across the ocean, heroes from a land far away and very different from ours. Others believe they are champions of the gods, sent down before times of great need.”

The girl shrugged and took a cookie into her mouth. “I don’t really know. All of it is way above my pay grade. But never mind that. Why don’t you tell me what you’ve been up to around here?”

***

The goblin was lying on his back, his hat still on his head, partially covering his eyes, mouth open, a protruding belly stretching the waist of his pants. Balthazar himself felt the calling of a good nap, after having stuffed himself with cookies while chatting with the baker girl.

“Right, I think my lunchtime is over,” Madeleine said, standing up. “I’ve got lots of orders to prepare back home.”

“Wait, wait. I said I’d pay you next time, and this is next time,” Balthazar said, while fetching a small coin purse.

“No, really, Balthazar, I don’t feel right taking your money. I enjoy the walk down here, and the time spent at this beautiful pond.”

The crab gave her the side eye.

“I even enjoy our conversations, despite your grumpiness, if you can believe that,” the girl joked.

“You can’t just keep giving your products away for free, that’s no way to run a business. Trust me, I would know, I’m a merchant!” Balthazar said, leaving the novice portion out.

“Alright, fine. How about we do like last time? I really need a new bowl to mix my ingredients, and since I got here, I’ve been eyeing the one you have over there.” She pointed at a large bowl resting on top of the fallen tree trunk next to some potions. “What do you say, my cookies for the bowl, and next time I’ll bring something made in it?”

“Girl, if I wasn’t so full and ready to fall asleep, you wouldn’t be walking out of here without a good haggling. But have it your way, the bowl it is.”

“Much obliged!” the young girl said, with a smile and a twirl, grabbing the bowl on her way out. “See you next time, Balthazar. Bye, Druma!”

The goblin only managed to briefly raise an arm in a wave before dropping it and falling back into his food coma.

“That premium quality cured ham was worth at least 50 gold. That goblin better build a goddamn castle around the pond once he wakes up.”