Merchant Crab

Balthazar rounded the bend in the road, his eyestalks rising with relief as the sound of voices gave way to the sight of actual people.

“Good afternoon!” he called with a cheerful wave of one claw. “Mighty fine day for…”

The words died in his throat.

Three pairs of eyes stared back at him.

For one long, painfully awkward moment, nobody moved.

The camp itself occupied a small clearing carved naturally into the jungle, where the surrounding trees opened just enough to let shafts of sunlight spill onto the ground. A campfire crackled at its center, ringed by a circle of smooth stones. Above it hung three sticks stuck at an angle from the ground with slightly charred meat skewered on them, filling the air with the scent of cooked rabbit. Three tents stood nearby beneath the shade of the trees, accompanied by rolled sleeping bags, travel packs, and enough adventuring supplies to suggest the group had settled in for more than just a single night.

While it wasn't a permanent settlement, it seemed like a convenient place to stop. The sort of camp countless adventuring parties probably built every day.

Only this one happened to be on a mysterious island in the middle of nowhere.

Standing around the fire were three adventurers.

The first looked every bit the warrior. He wore a suit of scratched steel plate that had clearly seen plenty of use and rested one gauntleted hand atop the pommel of a sword so absurdly oversized it seemed to exist purely to reassure its owner that subtlety was overrated.

The second wore light leather armor, a longbow slung across his back beside a quiver with what Balthazar felt were way too few arrows. His posture seemed perpetually alert, his sharp eyes constantly scanning the surrounding jungle even before settling back onto the crab.

The third looked thoroughly overdressed for the tropical climate. Long blue robes hung almost to his boots despite the suffocating humidity, and he leaned casually against an old, crooked wooden staff with a polished surface that had clearly been worn smooth by many years of use.

Balthazar quietly lowered his eyestalk behind the Monocle of Exposition.

[Warrior - Level 38]

[Ranger - Level 38]

[Wizard - Level 38]

“Hmm, only two levels below me,” the merchant whispered to himself.

“That crab just talked,” the ranger finally muttered while squinting.

“And he’s got a monocle!” the robed man added, sounding almost delighted. “Don't forget the monocle!”

The warrior's eyes lit up.

“And it’s wearing a backpack!” he exclaimed. “It must have incredible loot!”

The largest of the three wrapped both hands around the pommel of his sword with a menacing grin on his face.

“Let’s slay it!”

“Whoa, whoa,” the mage quickly interrupted, raising both hands. “Easy there.”

“Nooo. That kills the crab, Garrick,” the ranger pointed out, in a tone that resembled someone explaining something to a child.

Balthazar nodded vigorously.

“Yes! Listen to your friends!”

Garrick frowned. “Well, yes. That’s the point. So we can loot it.”

The wizard adjusted his robes thoughtfully. “Actually, Rowan has a point. Capturing it alive would be considerably more interesting. So we can study it.”

The crab gave the wizard a disapproving glare. “Alright, maybe don’t listen to that friend in particular.”

Rowan had not taken his eyes off the crab.

“Guys…” he said. “This crab doesn’t seem like the ones from the beach.”

“So?” Garrick asked.

“It's huge.”

The warrior grinned.

“Then it's probably a miniboss,” he said with a spark in his eyes. “Which means even better loot.”

“And it talks,” the ranger added.

The wizard’s expression brightened even further.

“Remarkable! That almost certainly means some kind of magical anomaly!”

“Of course that’s where your thinking goes, Cedric,” the ranger said, rolling his eyes.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“I am standing right here,” Balthazar reminded them.

“Perhaps a curse,” the robed adventurer continued.

“I can hear you.”

The wizard gasped.

“And it understands the common tongue!”

Balthazar pinched the space between his eyestalks.

“You’re quick on the uptake…” the crab muttered under his breath before raising his eyestalks and speaking again. “In case you guys aren’t getting it yet, I am not a monster.”

His statement was met with silence and blank stares from the trio of adventurers.

“I am also not a miniboss.”

More silence.

“My name’s Balthazar. I’m a merchant. The merchant crab. Ring any bells?”

Cedric’s jaw slowly fell open. “Fascinating.”

Balthazar exhaled sharply before whispering, “Finally one of them recognizes me.”

The wizard took an eager step forward, nearly tripping over the hem of his robes.

“Absolutely fascinating! So you were a merchant who was turned into a crab! Do you know what enchantment caused this? Was it a polymorph spell? Ancient druidic magic? Divine intervention? A curse? Oh! Perhaps a ritual!”

“What?! No!”

“Ah! He probably has a quest for us to revert him back to human. Awesome!” Rowan said.

“I definitely don’t!” Balthazar exclaimed.

“I bet he will be so thankful in the end that he will give us his backpack full of loot as a reward!” Garrick added with greed in his eyes.

“I most certainly won’t!” the exasperated crustacean yelled. “Will you three just stop? I am a crab. Always have been, always will be! And I’m not here to give out quests to anyone!”

The wizard looked genuinely disappointed.

Garrick folded his arms.

“I still think we should loot him.”

“You can’t just loot people,” Rowan sighed.

“He’s not a person,” the warrior said. “He just said so himself.”

“Still not alright to do, Garrick.”

“Oh.” The bigger adventurer paused, considering what his friend said. “I'd still like to loot him, though.”

Rowan ignored him and offered the crab a friendly smile.

“I'm Rowan,” he said before gesturing around the camp. “The walking armory over there is Garrick.”

The armored man gave a proud nod.

“And our resident collector of dangerous magical accidents is Cedric.”

“I prefer ‘scholar’ myself, thank you very much,” the wizard corrected.

“You tried to bottle swamp gas because you thought it might be haunted.”

“I was conducting research.”

“It exploded.”

“A valuable research outcome.”

“So,” Rowan continued, “what exactly brings a talking crab to Battershoal?”

The merchant shrugged. “A chocolate volcano eruption.”

The ranger blinked. “Is that, like… slang for something I’m unfamiliar with?”

“Nope!” said the crab. “I meant it literally. Anyway, what about you guys? What brings you to this place?”

“We heard stories about a mysterious island full of treasure, monsters, and ancient secrets,” Garrick said. “And then found a pirate captain willing to sail us here.”

“For an outrageous amount of gold,” Cedric muttered.

“Worth every coin,” the grinning warrior said.

“The pirate is dead,” Rowan reminded him. “So is the crew. And the ship is at the bottom of the sea.”

“A minor setback,” added the wizard.

Rowan sighed.

“The Tempest wrecked us before we even knew what was happening. Now we're stuck on this island.”

Garrick shrugged.

“May as well get rich while we're here.” He casually rested his sword over one shoulder. “I'm going to pillage every dungeon, ruin, cave, crypt, and monster den this island has.”

Cedric smiled dreamily while his fingers brushed his crooked staff.

“I want to understand the Tempest. I've never encountered magic on this scale before. Imagine the discoveries hidden here!”

Rowan looked toward the jungle, smiling.

“I just want to explore this island. Find every trail. Every landmark. And eventually the path that gets us home, to share the tale.”

Balthazar nodded slowly.

“Yep. So you guys are just as lost as me and don’t know how to leave. Nice.”

Three embarrassed expressions confirmed his statement as the merchant let out a long, drawn-out sigh.

“I've got friends waiting for me back on the continent,” Balthazar said, his voice softening. “They’re probably worried sick.”

A brief silence settled over the camp. After a while, Balthazar’s eyestalks curled inward.

“Hold on. None of you have ever heard of the Merchant Crab?”

His question was met with three blank stares.

“Uhm… No?” said Rowan.

“Really?”

“Yes?” Garrick replied.

“Huh…”

Balthazar wasn't sure whether to feel offended or humbled.

Before he could dwell on it further, Garrick pointed toward the far edge of the clearing.

“We haven't really met many people since we got here. Just the old man by the beach.”

“Alden,” Balthazar corrected automatically.

“Oh, right, that was his name.” Garrick scratched the back of his head. “I think?”

“And,” said Rowan, pointing the other way, “that guy.”

Balthazar followed his finger.

Only now did he notice the solitary figure standing motionless in the shadows where the jungle met the clearing.

Half concealed between a moss-covered boulder and the trunk of an enormous tree stood a man wrapped in a long brown hooded trench coat. His face disappeared beneath the shadow of the hood, revealing little more than the suggestion of a faint smile.

“Who’s that?” Balthazar asked quietly.

The three adventurers shrugged almost in unison.

“No idea,” Garrick answered. “He just trades things.”

“Never told us his name,” Rowan added. “Maybe he’s another trader, like you?”

Those answers produced a frown from Balthazar.

“I've attempted conversation several times,” said Cedric while adjusting his spectacles.

“And?” asked the intrigued crustacean.

“He prefers business.”

The hooded lurker, who had been observing the entire conversation without moving from his spot once, slowly lifted one gloved hand, and, with a single crooked finger, he beckoned.

“Come…” His voice emerged low and strangely inviting. “Come closer.”

The bristles beneath Balthazar's shell prickled.

“Browse my wares,” the hooded trader said, a faint smile widening beneath the hood. “And perhaps we can make… a deal.”

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!