Balthazar sat on his comfortable purple cushion in front of his tent as the sun disappeared over the horizon, humming to himself as he took a soft rag around his claw and polished the shine on his new golden statue under the light of a nearby lantern.

The item was a thing of beauty, depicting an elegant woman with a veil draped over her figure, covering the important bits that would keep the artifact a family friendly piece of art. The weight of it was far greater than its size would make one expect, and the red, green, and blue jewels decorating its base all around were of an incredibly crystalline purity, reflecting the crab’s eye perfectly whenever he stared into one of their facets.

Enthralled by his new treasure, the happy merchant did not even notice the approaching toad, hopping her way to him over the wooden bridge until she stood right next to the lantern and croaked.

“Hey, Balthazar.”

“Oh!” he responded, with a slight jump in place. “Didn’t see you there, Henrietta. Was so busy admiring my new statuette. You like it?”

She looked the figurine up and down with a raised brow.

“Impressive. Looks expensive too. Where did you get something like that?”

“Hah! Some strange adventurer traded it to me for some basic supplies. Typical sucker. Also, this is the best part. He made up some story about it belonging to a dragon hoard to make it seem even more enticing!”

Henrietta’s brow went even higher. “Dragons haven’t been sighted in ages.”

“I know! He probably thought he was having me for a fool with his made up dragon story, but I’m the one laughing now, because this piece of solid gold is worth way more than what he got.”

“That sounds almost too good,” the toad said. “Are you sure there’s no catch to this statue?”

“Don’t worry, it’s not another cursed item, I checked,” Balthazar reassured her. “It’s a legitimate item, and I acquired it in a fair deal. Even if it was stolen at some point, that’s not my fault. I couldn’t have known. Anyone who wants to complain can talk to the claw, for all I care. This beaut is mine now.”

“Alright then, if you’re sure...” Henrietta said with a hint of uncertainty in her voice. “Why are you still up, anyway? You know I got things from here. You can go get your beauty sleep.”

“I know,” the crab said, putting the statuette down, “but the lizard envoy is meant to come back tonight, and I really want to see what he brings us.”

“Speaking of which,” said the night merchant, nodding to the bazaar across the pond, where an armored lizard had just arrived.

“Excellent! Let’s go greet him.”

The crab stood up and started heading to the footpath before taking a sudden stop.

“Almost forgot!”

Taking a few steps back, Balthazar picked up the muse’s statue and carried it across the bridge.

“Really?” said Henrietta, rolling her eyes at him.

“A little flaunting never hurt nobody,” the smug crab said.

As they entered the bazaar, the lizardfolk envoy turned to face them, taking his attention away from the pair of crocodile skin boots he was disapprovingly staring at on a shelf.

“Jorg’ath!” Balthazar greeted, raising one claw while the other cradled his treasured statuette. “Good to see you again. How goes it?”

“Balthazar, Ms. Henrietta,” the lizard responded, with a gentle bow. “I am well, thank you. I hope the same can be said of you, friends.”

“Sure, sure, of course,” the crab said as he placed the statue on the counter with a loud thud and climbed up to his stool. “Say, what happened to your watcher? She didn’t come with you this time?”

Jorg’ath’s wide mouth formed a knowing smile. “Jazk came along too. She is just keeping her distance, staying guard outside, in the shadows. She has taken the events from our previous visit very personally and wishes to ensure no such thing ever happens again. Worry not. I doubt anything or anyone will be sneaking up on us this time.”

“I bet,” Balthazar idly commented, his eyes more focused on his golden figurine than the envoy.

“I see you have a very nice piece there,” Jorg’ath said, as if he somehow could not have noticed the shiny artifact reflecting the light from every lantern around them from the moment Balthazar placed it on the counter. “An admirer of art, are you?”

“If it’s golden and valuable, sure,” the merchant said with a cocky smile.

“He’s got himself a new toy and is fascinated by it, that’s all,” Henrietta said with a chuckle.

“Don’t listen to her,” said Balthazar. “Probably just envious that I sealed the deal for it and not her. What do you think of it?”

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The lizard ran his hand down his long jaw as he inspected the statuette.

“I am no sculptor myself,” he started, “but it seems like very fine work. There is something peculiar about its scent, however.”

“What do you mean?”

Jorg’ath took a couple of sniffs closer to the golden item.

“I couldn’t tell you. It’s as if there was something both strange but also somewhat… familiar to its smell.”

“Is it something bad?” asked the toad. “Should we be worried about it?”

“I am uncertain,” the puzzled lizard said. “It’s probably nothing actually dangerous. Maybe I’m just confused. Pay it no mind.”

“Ah well,” Balthazar exclaimed. “You heard the lizard. We’re in the clear!”

Pushing the statuette slightly to the side, the merchant brought a large box up from under the counter and placed it between them.

“Your alchemy paraphernalia, as agreed,” the golden merchant announced.

“Ah, most exciting!” Jorg’ath said, his pupils widening as he gazed at the box.

“Mortars, pestles, plenty of clear glass vials of many sizes, scales, other measuring tools,” Balthazar listed. “Basically, everything for the aspiring alchemist and then some. This should get your fellow brewers back home a good head start into the human techniques of potion-making. I even included a copy of ‘Alchemy Basics for Novices’ in there, in case you all need some instructions on how to use something.”

The envoy looked through the contents of the box with a wide smile, marveling at the fine craft of some of the silver tools included.

“This will bring great progress to our production, I have no doubt,” he enthusiastically said. “The ingenuity of glass making will never cease to amaze me. These vials, for example, are truly fascinating!”

“Aha, glad you like them,” the grinning crab said. “You can have them for the low price of 50 gold per box of a dozen!”

“Interesting,” Jorg’ath said, picking the small box of vials up and reading the tag attached to it. “This here says 25 gold, for some reason.”

“Oh, heh, a tiny oversight,” Balthazar quickly said with a nervous chuckle. “That’s the old price. Just forgot to replace that.” The crab quickly pulled the tag from the box. “You know how it is, inflation, costs of transport, taxes. Everything is going up these days. You barely have time to update the price of something, and there’s already something else making it go up again. Nothing I can do about it either, unfortunately. My pincers are tied. I’m a slave to the ebb and flow of the market!”

The crab gave Henrietta a quick glance from the corner of his eye. The toad was shooting daggers at him with her scowl, but thankfully, it seemed the lizard had not noticed or was raising any suspicion over the subject.

Damnable Tristan had likely forgotten to pull the old prices on the items from the alchemy shop when delivering them earlier. How’s a crafty crab meant to turn a fat profit with such distracted assistants?

“I have come bearing gifts as well,” Jorg’ath declared, finally lifting his gaze from his new toys.

“Oooh?” exclaimed the now very curious crab.

The visitor pulled his pack down from his back and placed it on the counter. Opening it and pulling the edges down, he revealed a tall rectangular wooden box within.

“Using the few tools you had already provided last time,” he explained, “I had our most talented brewers concoct some of our best potions using their new instruments. Today I bring you the first results.”

The lizard unlatched the box, and it opened itself to the sides, revealing multiple bottles of many colored liquids, each safely attached to the padded walls of the transport container.

“Fascinating,” Balthazar murmured as he looked at the display of concoctions he had never seen before.

“I was hoping you’d consider a trade deal,” said Jorg’ath. “A partnership of sorts. You provide us with these valuable items, and with them we can produce our special potions in quality and quantities never before possible for our kind. It would be an honor if you’d accept selling some of them in exclusivity here at your magnificent bazaar. We’d make some extra profit from our production without having to deal directly with humans and their not-so-friendly nature towards us, and you would, of course, keep your own cut of the profits.”

“Hmm, interesting offer,” the crab said, stroking his chin in thought as if he wasn’t already eager to take the enticing opportunity to make another profit.

“Allow me to present you with some of what we have to offer. It will hopefully sway you into this business opportunity,” the smooth-talking lizard said.

Carefully plucking a round bottle of a dense dark green liquid from the box as if it were a delicate fruit from a tree, Jorg’ath offered it to the crab before explaining what it was.

“This is our Hardening Scales Potion. Very tough to get the exact mixture right without years of practice. When taken, it will harden the scales of its user to make one much more resistant to cuts and slashes. Very useful when about to face a foe with either blade or claw.”

“Hmm, that might not be very popular with all the skin-having humans I get around here,” Balthazar said.

Jorg’ath chuckled. “It is just a name, friend. I assure you, it will harden the skin of humans just as well as it does the scales of a lizardfolk like myself.”

“Ah, in that case, I can see those selling like hot cakes, the way these guys like to get into a scrap out there,” the nodding crab said.

“There is also this,” the envoy pulled a different bottle from his box, this time containing a thick milky white substance. “A few sips of this will greatly increase one’s ability to carry heavy loads, their weight feeling much lighter than normal. We call them Feather Potions.”

“Hah, clever,” said Balthazar. “Feather Potions, because they make things light like a feather. I get it.”

“What?” Jorg’ath asked with a confused blink.

“The name,” the crab said. “You named them Feather Potions because feathers are light, right?”

“No, not really. We just call them that because we use a feather of a rare bird as the main ingredient for them.”

“Oh,” Balthazar said. “That, uh… that makes sense too, I guess. My idea was more clever but whatever, not important right now! Point is, I think this could be the beginning of a very profitable deal for the both of us.”

Jorg’ath smiled from ear to ear again.

“I take it that means you are open to discuss my offer, then?”

“You bet! Let’s just settle the details and by morning I’ll be selling the first of those beauties to every single adventurer that comes by!”

***

Back in his comfortable tent, Balthazar tucked in for the night with an air of satisfaction painted all over his face. He had his golden statuette next to his pillow, under the light of his lantern, so that he could admire it before falling asleep, he had a plate of delicious pie for his late-night snack, and he now had the exciting prospect of another juicy profit from his new deal with the lizards for selling their unique potions.

The simple fact that he would be the only one selling such rare brews would put him at an even greater advantage compared to any other merchant around, and if there was something Balthazar loved was taking advantage of things.

“Suck it, Antoine,” he murmured to himself as he munched on his pie and admired the golden shine of his muse.

As his eyes grew heavier, the happy crab slowly drifted away to sleep, his mind filled with all the thrilling opportunities coming his way.

The next few days were no doubt going to be very exciting for him.