Merchant Crab

Balthazar stepped across the moat bridge and into the main street, Druma and Blue close behind. Despite how wide it was, the road was packed with people moving about, most on foot, some on carriages, busily navigating the urban tangle in an apparent rush to get to the next shop or stall.

And shops were all the crab could see. Anywhere he looked, a mercantile air filled the streets, with every building’s first floor being occupied by some sort of store, shop, or place of craft. The sidewalks were dotted with random stalls that seemed built to go up as quickly as they could be taken down and moved elsewhere, selling every manner of random goods.

The fascinated merchant had only been to one town before, Ardville, and even that was a very brief visit, but Marquessa had a clear larger scale to it, with its wider streets filled with a lot more people and visitors, as well as its taller buildings, the majority built of solid brick, rather than Ardville’s mostly wooden structures.

Woah, this place smells of opportunity!

Moving through the bustling streets with his companions, Balthazar could not get over the strange fact that nobody seemed to care or even throw curious glances at the giant crab, small goblin, and bright drake sharing a sidewalk with them.

“Morning,” greeted the crab, stopping in front of a small street stall where a man was selling vases and other pottery pieces.

“Ah, good day! What can I help you with?” said the vendor, peeking over his counter at the crustacean with a friendly smile and no apparent reaction to the fact that it had just talked to him.

“With some information, I hope,” Balthazar said. “This is my first time around these parts.”

“Ah, a first-time visitor to the city,” the cheerful man said, standing straighter behind the stall. “I hope you’re enjoying our beautiful Marquessa.”

“Yeah, I just arrived, but it seems pleasant enough,” said the puzzled traveler. “And that’s part of what’s confusing me. I’m more used to people having at least some reaction to encountering a talking crab, but here everyone seems to walk past us like we’re just another common band of travelers. What gives?”

The vase seller placed a hand on his chest and let out a hearty chuckle.

“Hah! It really must be your first time in our city. Marquessa is not like most other settlements around Mantell that you are probably used to. This is a metropolis of commerce, a place of trade and business, with people from every corner of the continent passing through here every day. Unlike most other more closed-up communities, we thrive by being open to everyone and welcoming them with open doors. It doesn’t matter how many legs you have, or what color you are, if you’re here to do good business, nobody minds your presence.”

“Huh,” said Balthazar, breaking a smile. “This sounds like my kind of place already!”

He turned, facing the open streets in front of him. Down one alley were multiple blacksmith workshops, each one populated by multiple locals and adventurers, browsing the wares, trying on armor pieces, and checking the balance on their weapons. Why a town would need more than just one blacksmith shop was something Balthazar could not fully explain yet, but the fact that they all seemed to be busy doing business told him that this place was ripe with trading opportunities.

“Say, friend,” the traveling merchant said, turning back to the local pot merchant, “where would a prospecting trader who just arrived in town go first to make himself acquainted with Marquessa?”

“Ah,” responded the man, “that would have to be the city's guildhall, for sure. It’s the place where every guild has their local headquarters, where every adventurer gathers, and in general the hangout spot for citizens and travelers alike. Great if you wish to mingle.”

“Perfect! That sounds like the right spot to get help with finding the right way to get to where I’m going too,” the excited crab said.

The Marquessian man leaned over his stall’s counter and pointed a finger up the street. “If you keep going up main street there, you’ll eventually exit onto a large avenue. The big circular building with a domed roof is the hall. Can’t miss it.”

“Great, thanks!” said Balthazar, quickly moving on towards his new destination.

The local merchant waved him goodbye, smile still on his face, while muttering to himself, “Dang crab could have at least bought a little vase…”

Strolling down the streets of Marquessa, the newly arrived merchant eyed down every shop and establishment on his way to the city hall, smirking at their clearly inferior business practices.

Pff, look at that store’s window, putting the prices of all their stuff on tags. Amateurs. You never tell them the price of the thing beforehand, you work the client first!

Still shaking his shell, the crab spotted a grocery across the road, and a lady walking out the door, carrying two paper bags full of food in her arms.

They give their clients bags?! What are they running there, a charity?!

Somewhere to his left, the crustacean’s sense of smell alerted him to what appeared to be a fish market, wedged between a small produce store and a butcher shop.

A lady was propped out of a small window on the front of the shop, tending to her multiple display crates of fish facing the passing citizens.

“Fish! Fresh fish!” she yelled in a practiced ear-piercing shriek. “We’ve got fish from the sea and from the river! Check out my selection of salmon and bass! Squid and octopus too!”

Hmm, a fish market, maybe I should check it out.

“…We also got fresh shellfish straight off the rocks!”

Balthazar took a sharp turn to the right and skittered away.

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

Never mind, maybe I shouldn’t check it out.

Upon reaching the end of the street, the trio exited onto a large square, crowds of people moving up and down its pathways like schools of fish in a perpetually repeating dance.

Carriages circled around the white stone center plate, slowly making their way to their entries and exits while maneuvering through the rivers of pedestrians, making it getting across a challenge to a crab used to the serenity of the countryside.

Once through, Balthazar heard a small commotion and saw a group of people gathering in a circle nearby.

“Step right up! Step right up!” a booming voice behind the onlookers said.

Curious, the crustacean found an opening through some legs and hips, pushing to the other side until he saw the scene everyone was gathering to see.

Sitting on top of a stone platform was a large basin with a spewing fountain at its center, two marble statues of horses to each side.

Balthazar shook his shell disapprovingly at the sculptures. It made no sense to him why anyone would place statues of horses of all things in a water fountain. Everyone knew horses were not aquatic creatures, so what logic was there in that? Now crabs, those would have definitely made for majestic statues to place on that monument.

Maybe he’d bring that up with the local authorities at some point. Clearly they needed some guidance, if having equestrian creatures shooting jets of water into a little pool is what passed for decoration in that place.

The nonsensical fountain was, however, not the cause for the gathering of people around that area. Standing on top of an upside down milk crate was a peculiar man wearing a white buttoned down shirt along with suspenders holding up a pair of brown shorts. His arms were spread wide as he ushered people in.

“Come now, gather ‘round, gather ‘round, you won’t want to miss this!” he announced loudly, with a peculiar accent that Balthazar had never heard before.

Spotting the crab in the middle of the crowd, he pointed at him and said, “You too, gentleman in the impeccable chitin shell. Water-dwelling fella like yourself will surely have an interest in what I have to show today!”

“Me?” the surprised crab said, looking around while pointing a pincer at himself, as if somehow expecting anyone else there to be wearing a chitin shell.

The populace rubbed shoulders and bumped elbows as they piled up to get a good look at what was being promised, and the man, seemingly satisfied enough with the size of his audience, clapped his hands loudly.

“Alright, everybody, thank you for your attention! My name is Roberto, and I came from very far away to visit your lovely city just to share something very special I brought from home.”

He reached a hand into another crate near his feet.

“This is something you will not find anywhere else. A secret grown in the bay of my homeland. Its secret passed down from generation to generation. I give you… my sponge!”

The salesman held up both of his hands like someone presenting a newborn to the world, except in his grasp what he had was a small and squishy yellow rectangle full of holes.

“What in blazes is that?!” a gentleman from the front said, tipping up his top hat as he tried to take a better look at the presented item.

“A sponge, my good sir!” the man on the milk crate replied. “Roberto’s Nearly-Infinite Water Sponge!”

“A what now?!” a commoner exclaimed from somewhere else in the crowd.

“It is a super absorbent sponge,” Roberto explained, “that can absorb up to fifty times its volume in water!”

He held for applause, which never came.

“Perhaps a demonstration is in order!” the sweating man quickly said, jumping down from his crate as a couple of people from the back started leaving.

Placing himself next to the edge of the fountain’s basin, he held up the yellow item again for everyone to see.

“As you can see,” the salesman said, poking the sponge, “dry as a bone. But watch as I do this!”

He dropped the sponge in the water of the fountain, and it started making loud slurping noises, like a famished goblin eating soup.

Balthazar stretched himself up to look over the edge of the fountain.

The water level was rapidly lowering as the yellow rectangle quickly grew denser.

With an open grin of pride, Roberto picked up the soaked sponge and presented it to the crowd. “Ta-da!”

Despite the surrounding clamor and noises of the busy city streets, the crowd of onlookers surrounding the fountain was like a void of silence in the middle of the square. Not a peep from those watching, except for the occasional sniffle or rubbing of someone’s fingers scratching their chin.

“Tough crowd, I see…” the deflating man muttered behind his dying smile.

“What in the world would I need one of those for?” someone at the front of the crowd asked.

“Ah! A pertinent question!” said Roberto, hopping back on top of the crate, wet sponge still in hand, and a continuous stream of water leaking everywhere as he moved. “With its high capacity, this marvelous item could soak up all sorts of inconvenient spills you might have while still remaining highly portable!”

“Can it soak up ale?” a man shouted from the back.

“Well, it’s technically not rated for alcohol but—”

“What if you dropped it in lava, would it absorb that too?” someone else in the crowd asked.

“What?! Why would—”

“Are you going to put back the water you took from our fountain?”

“I…”

The crowd started going from silence to grumbling and quickly dispersing, no longer captivated by the promise of an impressive show.

“Wait, come back,” the fumbling salesman pleaded, the wet sponge still in his grasp, leaking over his shoes. “I haven’t even shown you how easy it is to squeeze the water back out or how light it feels to hold despite the amount of water in it…”

Balthazar winced and quickly slipped away, the second-hand embarrassment too uncomfortable to bear.

People aren’t easily impressed in this city. Noted.

While walking away, he glanced back at the salesman, squeezing the yellow sponge into the fountain with his shoulders slumped.

Who would think of selling sponges anyway?! Why would anyone need one of those things!

Still shaking his shell at the uselessness of a super absorbent sponge, the crab and his crew continued around the town square, trying to make their way to the other side between the rows of coming and going Marquessians.

As Balthazar was passing by the entrance to a narrow alleyway, a whimper from within it caught his attention.

He stopped and peeked into the alley.

In there, a rough-looking guy wearing dirty gray clothes was grabbing the strap of a young woman’s satchel and pulling on it, while she struggled to hold on to it.

“Stop fighting and hand it over!” the mugger barked.

“Let go!” yelled the girl.

A mugging? Balthazar thought, cocking an eyestalk.

But, with a dismissive shrug, he started walking away.

“Someone else will come along or call a guard, I’m sure,” he said to himself.

After a few steps, he stopped, glancing at Druma and Blue, who were both staring at him with slightly disappointed glares.

Balthazar looked around at the passing people, each one of them in a hurry and focused on their own paths, rushing through to wherever they were going and doing their best to avoid everything and everyone else. All of them fully absorbed in their own little bubbles.

The crab sighed.

“Fine…”

Grumbling to himself and his two guilt-tripping companions, the merchant stepped inside the alley, where the mugger was still trying to take the girl’s satchel.

“Hey,” Balthazar yelled. “Let her go!”