Morning came to Crab Beach with the gentle warmth of sunlight filtering through the clouds and the steady sound of waves rolling against the shore.
Balthazar slowly raised his eyestalks from the sand.
For a few blissful moments, he didn't remember where he was.
The sand beneath him was warm. The breeze was pleasantly cool. The rhythmic sound of the sea was soothing enough to make him consider lowering his eyes again and going right back to sleep.
Pebbles was still nestled against his side, curled up comfortably against the curve of his shell.
The little rock gave a tiny yawn as she woke, blinking up at him with her usual smiling face.
“Morning, Pebbles.”
“Cree!”
Balthazar smiled and looked around. He had to admit, that place wasn't half bad.
After everything that had happened since arriving on the island, waking up on a peaceful beach was almost exactly what he needed. There was something about the warm sand and the sound of the ocean that reminded him of home, even if the beach itself was entirely unfamiliar.
It wasn't quite as comfortable as sleeping beside his pond, of course.
Nothing was.
But it came surprisingly close.
The crab pushed himself upright and looked out over the water.
The sea stretched toward the horizon beneath a clear morning sky, its surface glittering under the rising sun, a view only tarnished by the dark line formed between the two by the terrible Tempest. The beach was quiet, with nothing but the occasional rush of waves breaking against the sand.
Balthazar took a deep breath.
The salty air filled his lungs.
He felt the warmth of the sun against his shell and let himself enjoy the moment.
Maybe this island wasn't so bad after all.
He had Pebbles.
He had his Crab Bag.
He had food in his bag.
He even had a reasonably comfortable beach to sleep on.
Sure, there was the whole matter of being stranded on a mysterious island surrounded by a magical storm that wouldn’t allow anyone to leave, but compared to being launched through the sky like a cannonball, that almost felt like a problem for later.
“And so, as the golden light of morning bathed the lonely shore, the giant crab stood upon the sands and gazed across the endless sea, his troubled mind momentarily calmed by the serene beauty of this strange and distant land.”
Balthazar froze.
He slowly turned his eyes to the side.
Nothing.
The beach remained empty.
Pebbles was looking at him.
He looked toward the water.
Nothing.
“What was that?”
No answer came.
Balthazar stared around the beach.
There was nobody there.
Not an adventurer.
Not the Trader.
Not some strange island creature.
Just… nothing.
“Alright…” He rubbed one pincer against the side of his head. “I think I'm still tired.”
That had to be it. He had been through a lot.
Flying through the sky, crashing into an island, discovering a giant magical storm, meeting strange adventurers, discovering an even stranger trader. His brain was probably just making things up now.
Balthazar shook his head and decided to move on.
There was something else he needed to do every morning.
Something much more important.
His morning stretches.
The merchant shuffled a little farther away from Pebbles and began his routine.
First, he stretched his legs one at a time, extending each joint as far as it would comfortably go.
Then he rolled his shoulders.
He twisted his body from side to side. He stretched his pincers. He extended his eyestalks.
Finally, he lowered himself close to the sand and performed a series of slow, deliberate movements that he had developed to make sure his body stayed in good shape.
Being a merchant was physically demanding work.
Carrying goods.
Moving crates.
Running from monsters.
Running from angry customers.
Running from monsters that were also angry customers.
A crab needed to stay limber.
Balthazar completed one final stretch and felt a satisfying series of tiny pops through his joints.
“Ah. Much better.”
“Behold, then, the morning ritual of the great Balthazar, merchant of magnificent renown! His many limbs move with the practiced grace of a seasoned warrior, each stretch a testament to years of discipline and—”
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Balthazar's eyestalks shot upward.
“Alright, I definitely heard that!”
Pebbles tilted her little body.
“Cree?”
“Did you hear that?” the crab asked the stone.
“Cree.”
Balthazar looked around again. The beach was still empty. His eyestalks slowly scanned the dunes.
Nothing.
He looked toward the ocean.
Also nothing.
He looked behind himself.
Still nothing.
“Who are you?” he asked the air around him.
Nothing but silence.
Balthazar's pincers rose defensively.
“Is this some kind of system thing? Is the island doing this? Did I inhale something poisonous while I was sleeping?”
“The noble crustacean, having finally accepted that he was indeed being observed, now begins the frantic search for his mysterious unseen companion. Little does he know that his most attentive audience is not before him, nor behind him, but rather—” The voice made an overly dramatic pause. “—directly upon his own backside.”
Balthazar spun around but found nothing.
He spun again and still nothing.
He twisted his body farther. Balthazar's eyestalks crossed as he desperately tried to look behind himself.
“Come on…” he groaned.
He twisted, and twisted, and twisted some more, until finally one eyestalk managed to extend far enough to see something attached to the rear portion of his shell.
Something of a pale beige color.
Something hard.
Something that absolutely had not been there yesterday.
Balthazar stared. “What in the…”
He reached around with a pincer and felt the strange object.
It was a barnacle.
A rather large barnacle.
A very, very large barnacle.
“Yuck!”
He immediately tried to pry it loose, but the barnacle didn't move.
Balthazar gripped it harder and pulled with both pincers, but to no avail.
“What is this thing?!”
A familiar chime sounded in his head.
[Symbiotic connection with Giant Barnacle established]
Balthazar stopped.
“What?!”
He stared at the system notification.
Then at the barnacle.
Then back at the notification.
“Oh hell no!”
Another notification appeared.
[Sir Bartholomew cannot be physically removed through normal means]
Balthazar's eyestalks slowly narrowed.
“This thing’s name is Bartholomew?”
“In a momentary lapse, the good crab accidentally omitted the most crucial portion of his companion’s noble name—Sir Bartholomew!”
He glared at the barnacle.
“Sir Bartholomew?”
“Indeed!” exclaimed the attached creature. “Sir Bartholomew of Riviera, at your service, noble host!”
Balthazar groaned and then sighed. “Can you get off my shell?”
“Alas, the humble chronicler cannot simply abandon his host at his convenience.”
“I don't care about your chronicling! Get off!”
“Were Sir Bartholomew capable of such an act, he would surely do so, for the wishes of his host are not without merit. Yet fate has bound the two together, and the connection between them is now permanent.”
The crab's pincers slowly lowered.
“You're telling me I'm stuck with you?”
“And Sir Bartholomew with thee.”
“That is not comforting.”
“Nor was it intended to be.”
Balthazar took a long breath.
“Alright. Fine. Let's start over.” He leaned closer to the barnacle. “Why did you attach yourself to me while I was sleeping?”
The barnacle remained silent for a moment. Then its grand voice returned.
“Once, Sir Bartholomew was but a humble creature of the shore. A simple barnacle. A being without thought, without purpose, without any greater understanding of the world beyond the tides that carried nourishment to his waiting mouth.”
Balthazar stared at the immobile creature with his mouth half-open.
“But then came the giant crustacean. There upon the sands did Sir Bartholomew discover thee, sleeping beneath the gentle moonlight. A creature unlike any he had ever encountered. A mighty carapace, hard and lustrous, upon which the barnacle might find purchase.”
Balthazar's expression became increasingly suspicious.
“And so, by chance or perhaps by the mysterious hand of destiny, Sir Bartholomew attached himself to thy shell.”
“While I was asleep.”
“Indeed!”
“That sounds incredibly invasive.”
“And yet, in that very moment, something wondrous occurred.” The barnacle's voice became even more dramatic. “A connection was formed. A link between two beings. A bridge between minds. Through thee, Sir Bartholomew saw the world.”
“Wait,” the crab said as his eyes widened and he leaned closer. “How exactly did you see the world?”
“Through thy senses, noble host.”
“Hold on.” Balthazar's pincers rose. “You're leeching information from me!”
“Leeching is such an ugly word.”
“Are you or are you not using my senses?”
There was a brief pause.
“Sir Bartholomew merely shares in the magnificent sensory experience of his host.”
“You're using my senses!”
“A more elegant interpretation might be that the two of us now experience the world together.”
“That's a fancy way of saying yes!” Balthazar said with a groan. “So you can see everything I see?”
“Indeed!”
“Hear everything?”
“Indeed!”
“Think everything?”
The barnacle paused.
“Not quite. The noble host’s most inner thoughts are still his own.”
Balthazar sighed with relief.
At least there was that.
He turned his attention to Pebbles, who had been watching the entire conversation with her usual cheerful expression.
She gave a tiny giggle. “Cree!”
“And there, dear audience, stands the charming little companion known as Pebbles, whose unwavering smile remains a beacon of innocence amidst the increasingly bizarre circumstances surrounding our unfortunate merchant.”
Pebbles giggled again.
“Don't encourage him,” Balthazar said with a frown.
“Sir Bartholomew takes great offense at being referred to as ‘him’ when the proper title is—”
“Yeah, yeah, I got it already,” the crab said. “Come on, Pebbles. Let's get back to the Trader's camp. Maybe he knows something useful.”
“And thus does the great Balthazar depart the peaceful shore, accompanied by his faithful companion and burdened by an unwanted addition to his shell,” the enthusiastic barnacle narrated.
Balthazar stopped.
“I'm not a burdened hero.”
“A reluctant hero, then?”
“No.”
“A troubled hero, perhaps?”
“No!”
“A merchant hero?”
“Just shut up and walk.”
The barnacle sighed dramatically.
“Sadly, Sir Bartholomew is incapable of walking.”
Balthazar looked over his shell.
“Well, then just shut up!”
“As thou commandest, noble host.”
Balthazar started skittering across the sand toward the same path he had come from.
“I’m going to find out how to get this thing off me, or my name isn’t Balthazar.”
“Sir Balthazar, perhaps?”
“Just… shut up, barnacle!”
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