“Bloody hell, mate! Will you get on with it already?"
“Yeah, hurry up, we’re burning daylight here, and I need some potions!”
“Don’t rush me! I’ll be done when I’m done.”
“Fellas, fellas, please, no fighting at my trading post,” Balthazar said, attempting to calm the line of adventurers in front of his pond.
That morning was proving particularly busy, with plenty of them coming and going through the road. From what he could gather, activity in the Black Forest and beyond was at an all-time high.
Unfortunately for Balthazar, he was still having little success convincing most adventurers to part with their higher value items, which he now figured had something to do with him being only a novice merchant. Good enough to offload the occasional animal pelt, or low tier metal, perhaps some cheap consumables, but anything actually worthwhile they saved for the specialized merchants in town, with deeper coffers and willing to pay more.
“Alright, I’ll take the red one,” the adventurer currently in front of Balthazar finally said.
“Are you sure this time?” Balthazar asked, a hint of frustration in his voice.
“Yes, I am… well, the blue one is quite nice too, but… no, no, definitely the red one.”
“Deal. Here you go. Thank you, please come again. Now get out of here before those guys start throwing their shoes at us,” Balthazar quickly said, while taking the man’s coin purse and shoving a crude silver necklace with a red medallion into his hand. “Next!”
“Morning, Balthazar,” a young man said, his face and clothes dirty from what seemed like a mixture of dirt, soot, and blood.
“Damn, what happened to you?” Balthazar asked. He recognized the kid as one of the adventurers who passed through regularly. He had seen him just the day before, in much better shape, despite his still cheerful mood today.
“Bandit ambush,” he answered, a proud smile on his face. “They were four, but this time I was ready and took them all out. Got some good stuff off them, too!”
“Great. Anything you’d like to sell to me? You know I’ll give a fair price to returning customers.”
“Yeah, let me see here,” the battered boy said, kneeling down and opening up his backpack in front of him. One by one, he started removing some of his items. “I’ll keep this one for myself, this one I’ll save to sell in town, this one is—”
“Hold on, that thing you got there,” Balthazar interrupted, his eyes fixated on a large bar of very shiny metal. It resembled the iron ingot he had used before to upgrade his right claw, except the metal composing this one looked much nicer and shinier. When looking at it through his Monocle of Examination, he found it was indeed not the same material.
[Silver Ingot]
“Do you not want to sell it?”
“This ingot?” the kneeling adventurer said. “Hmm, I do, but I think I’ll sell it in town. Both jewelry makers and blacksmiths always pay well for those. No offense, of course.”
“None taken,” Balthazar said, with mild frustration.
It was no good. No matter how many times he tried, they wouldn’t sell him anything beyond junk. Not unless he was willing to offer a ridiculous price, which he was obviously not going to do, as he had mouths to feed. Two mouths, to be precise. But one of them seemed to be developing a taste for expensive cured meats.
“How much can you give me for this?” the young adventurer asked, presenting him with a dented metal tankard.
“Seriously, why would you even take… you know what? Never mind, just take a gold coin and put it there by that crate. Druma keeps breaking all the glass bottles and cups he drinks from. Hopefully, this thing will last him longer.”
Balthazar dropped a gold coin into the boy’s hand, and a new pop up appeared in front of his eyes.
[100 trades completed! Adept Merchant rank reached.]
“Seriously?! From an old tankard?”
“What?” the boy asked, freezing in place, confused at the crab’s outburst.
“Ah, sorry, kid. Don’t worry about it, just crab things,” Balthazar said to him, with a wave of his claw.
So that’s how he could reach higher ranks as a merchant, by selling and buying enough things. Made sense, just would have been nice if someone had explained that to him sooner. Maybe through some text in his eyes. Apparently that was asking for too much. But maybe this meant he had more bargain power now?
“Hey, hold on,” the crab called to the adventurer, who was closing his backpack. “Are you sure you don’t want to sell that ingot of silver? I’ll give you… five potions of stamina for it. They’re my last ones too!”
“I don’t know… but I could really use those potions later, probably.” The young man pondered for a moment. “Ah, fine, you convinced me. I doubt whatever they’d give me in town would cover those potions, so you got yourself a deal.”
Exchanging the items, Balthazar smiled at the ingot, which reflected the light of the sun as he slowly turned it. It wasn’t quite gold, but it was shiny enough to make this crab feel tingly inside.
“Hey, you gonna buy our stuff today or what?” a man shouted from the back of the line.
Placing the silver ingot under some linens, Balthazar called for the next customer. He would have to wait for a quieter time to appreciate his new treasure properly.
***
Alone at last, Balthazar retrieved his new silver ingot from its hiding spot. Movement had calmed down now that it was lunchtime, and most adventurers were busy filling their bellies up before their next stop. This crab, however, had more pressing matters.
Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.
Holding the ingot, he looked at his left pincer. Compared to his new right iron claw, his left one felt quite lackluster. No shine, no polish, just plain old crab chitin.
Focusing on the ingot, Balthazar wondered if he could use it in a similar way as he had the iron one.
[Upgrade Left Claw with [Silver Ingot]?]
[Yes | No]
“Excellent!”
Already knowing what to expect, he picked up the hammer he had brought along. A confirmed prompt and a clinking sound later, the ingot was gone and new text appeared in front of his eyes.
[Left Claw upgraded to [Silver Claw] (+4 dexterity)]
“Huh? Dexterity? That’s not exactly what I expected.”
Balthazar looked down at his freshly upgraded claw. It was even better looking than the right one now. A shinier, more polished look to it, edges ending in perfectly trimmed pincers, and small patterns across it that resembled artistic engravings. Comparing the two, he noticed the iron one looked visibly larger than the silver counterpart, giving it a much more powerful aspect, while the left was thinner, more delicate and agile looking.
With a theory in mind, Balthazar scurried his way to where some coin pouches from that morning’s sales were waiting to be counted and stored. He opened one, and with his right pincer, attempted to grab each coin and count the pouch’s contents. As he already expected, it was a painfully slow task. The iron appendage was far too big and lacked the finesse to handle the small coins quickly.
Switching to his left pincer, he attempted the same task. The difference was night and day. With his silver claw, he could swiftly pick, flick, and accurately place each coin into a neat pile without a hitch.
That was what the prompt system meant by dexterity. His left appendage could now deftly handle precision tasks in a way that he could never do before.
“Well, well, looks like someone got their manicure done.”
Startled, Balthazar turned around to face the figure who had approached from the road without being noticed. The baker girl was standing behind him, the usual friendly smile on her face, one hand on her hip, and another holding a noticeably bigger wicker basket, compared to the one from her previous visits.
“Madeleine!” the crab enthusiastically greeted, both arms open in childlike joy. “You like them? One is made of iron, and the other silver.”
“They’re quite something, that’s for sure,” she responded, in a tone resembling a parent attempting to show approval to a child presenting them with a drawing they don’t understand in the slightest.
“Watch this,” Balthazar said, quickly fetching a small bag of walnuts from a nearby table.
With great ease, he grabbed three perfectly round walnuts into his left pincer, and with a quick movement flicked one up into the air, where he caught it with his right claw, crushing it in one quick snap, before repeating the process for the second and then third one, leaving nothing but tiny fragments of crushed walnut on the ground.
“Very impressive!” Madeleine said, giving him a small clap. “Kind of a waste of good walnuts, though.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. I actually got you something.” Balthazar picked up the small baggie where he had been putting all the walnuts he recently opened, and offered it to Madeleine. “I bought a lot of those, and have been practicing my nut cracking, so I figured you could use them. I read some of your recipes require them.”
“Aren’t you a thoughtful crab? Thank you,” she said, taking the baggie into her hand. “But we both know I didn’t come here empty-handed either.”
“I’m counting on it!” the crab said, foam forming in the corners of his mouth.
“You’ll have to wait your turn, however,” Madeleine said, her eyes looking beyond Balthazar, with one arm raised. “Druma! Can you come here for a moment?”
The goblin looked over from the other side of the bridge, put down the folded tarps he was carrying, and ran over to join them.
“Hello miss baker,” he said, with an attempt at tipping his oversized hat, which nearly fell over his eyes.
“What’s this, you’re bossing my hired hand around now?” Balthazar said, with an imaginary eyebrow raised, for lack of a real one.
“Hush now, I’m not bossing him,” she said in a lighthearted tone. “I didn’t make a good impression on him last time, so I wanted to correct it now. It’s well past midday, and I’m sure you’ve been working him hard all morning, so he deserves a proper lunch.”
Opening her basket, she produced a large pie in a tall dish. Or rather, something that vaguely looked like a pie, but different, as Balthazar did not recognize any of the expected sweet smells from it, and its top layer did not resemble the previous pies he tried. This one was yellow, more mushy, and had no crust.
“This is for you, Druma,” Madeleine said, offering the whole thing to the goblin. “It’s called Shepherd’s Pie, and don’t worry, it’s not sweet. Instead, it’s made with potatoes and meat.”
With a big sniff, the goblin took the dish into his hands, his eyes turning watery.
“For Druma?”
“All for you. We leave the sweet stuff for the bitter crab over here.”
The goblin broke into a sprint across the bridge, laughing with happiness the whole way, the dish held high above his head like some kind of victory trophy.
“Hey! Say thank you, at least!” Balthazar shouted, but the goblin was already digging into his pie, like a hungry wild animal. “You’re going to spoil him that way.”
“I don’t see you worrying that I’ll spoil you, mister.”
“That’s completely different!”
“Sure, sure,” she said, nodding. “How would you like to try a freshly baked tart?”
Opening the wicker basket again, Madeleine revealed a round pastry, big enough to fit her palm. A soft-looking base, covered with a white cream topping, strawberry halves laid over it.
“They… they are beautiful,” Balthazar whispered, both pincers together in front of him, as if praying thanks to the pastry gods.
“Strawberry tarts. I hope you like them, as strawberries are in season now, so I’ll be making lots of things with them.”
“I love strawberries. They were my favorite fruit to nibble on when I was a baby crab.”
“Aww, now that’s just adorable. I bet you were a very cute baby crab,” Madeleine said, tilting her head slightly. “And far less cantankerous, too!”
Balthazar would have argued there, had he not already taken a bite into the tart and gently floated away to a different realm of thought. One where strawberries floated down a waterfall of sugar and cream, and crabs slept on beds of soft dough.
“Hey you! Did you hear anything of what I said?”
Shaking himself out of his daydream, Balthazar stared into the baker’s big green eyes, as she leaned down in front of his face, hands on her hips, mouth pouting slightly.
“I’ve been talking to you for ten minutes and you didn’t hear a word of what I said!”
“Wha…”
“Oh, never mind, you silly crab. At least I know you’ll enjoy the tarts. I left them there on the table. I need to get back to town, got supplies to buy, and things to bake.”
Finally snapping out of his tart stupor, Balthazar called out. “Wait!”
With a swift move of his left pincer, he grabbed one of the coin purses sitting on a rug behind him.
“You will take payment for your products this time, and I will not accept any excuses. This is a fair payment for your time and resources, and since I want you to keep bringing me… I mean, us, more of them, I can’t have you go broke and unable to afford ingredients. Take it.”
“I… alright. I guess I can’t argue with that. Thank you.”
Taking the coin purse, Madeleine stored it in her satchel before turning back to the crab.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I got someone waiting to walk me back to town.”
Confused, Balthazar looked behind her, towards the road.
[Level 9 Archer]
Looking closer at the boy standing there, with a bow and quiver across his back, he recognized his jovial face, save for the hint of blond facial hair growing on it now. It was Rye, the adventurer who found the baker for him.
“When did he get here?!” Balthazar asked, bewildered.
“Five minutes ago. He said hello to you, but you were too busy making bubbles with your mouth.”
“You two are friends or something?”
“Well, sort of, I guess?” Madeleine adjusted her braid and looked around at nothing in particular. “I didn’t know him until you sent him on a baker hunt, and since then he’s visited my stand in town a few times, bought some sweets, we chat sometimes, and now he was passing by on his way back to town and offered to accompany me. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
Balthazar stared at the baker with piercing eyes.
“What?!” she exclaimed. “I have to go. I’m late already. Bye, see you soon!”
Taking off with a little run, Madeleine joined Rye on the road, where they gave the crab a quick wave, before starting their walk up the road, smiling and chatting.
Balthazar watched as they disappeared in the distance, a sneaky feeling building up inside him. It wasn’t a nice sentiment, but he was still feeling it, regardless. He couldn’t help it, even if he tried to ignore it, it wouldn’t shut up in the back of his mind. A polite crab shouldn’t be thinking such thoughts, yet the thought remained.
“Son of a mule took one of my tarts while I wasn’t looking, didn’t he?!”