“But why in the world would the merchant’s guild want to meet me?!” Balthazar asked, skittering alongside Mayor Bergen as the two of them walked under a roofed area outside the town hall, heading toward the western side of the building.

The cobblestone walkway glimmered in the warm light from a line of braziers set at regular intervals, their flames licking up against the cold and casting long, wobbly shadows across bundles of drying herbs and strips of cured meat hanging overhead. Snowflakes drifted in from the open sides, melting instantly as they met the heat, creating a faint white mist in the air.

Bergen seemed perfectly at home in the glow, his beard catching the firelight while he shot Balthazar a half knowing, half self-satisfied smirk, as though the entire arrangement was his personal triumph.

“Are you surprised?” he said. “You are the famous merchant crab, naturally they are interested in knowing you. I would expect you to be pleased by this business opportunity!”

The crustacean groaned.

“I’ve met the guildmaster those guys chose last time,” he said. “Doesn’t really give me the best impression about their judgment.”

It was Bergen’s time to let out a quiet groan.

As the man and crab turned right and walked under a snow-covered arch made of shrubbery, the mayor spoke again.

“A good jab, crab. Your arms may be scrawny, but your tongue more than makes up for it!”

Balthazar’s eyestalks frowned as he muttered under his breath. “My arms are perfectly proportional!”

“But I must remind you,” the hefty mayor continued, “back then we were all swindled by Antoine’s trickery. At the time, we were still far from learning just how low his villainy went.”

Bergen stopped close to the center of a circular clearing surrounded by lots of green vegetation covered in white snow.

Balthazar looked around, taking in the quiet winter garden, its curved beds and narrow footpaths traced in soft white, while snow-capped shrubs and low hedges formed gentle mounds along the edges, their leaves only faintly visible beneath the powder.

Through the cold air, the place held a surprising stillness, sheltered from the bustle of Ardville proper.

Frost-touched vines clung to trellises in shimmering patterns, and clusters of hardy winter flowers peeked from beneath thin veils of snow like stubborn sparks of color. Balthazar’s eyestalks swiveled slowly as he took it all in—the hush, the crunch of snow beneath their steps, and the faint, almost reverent calm that hung over the garden as more tiny specks of snow lazily floated down.

“This is my refuge,” Mayor Bergen said in a hushed voice that carried a rare tenderness, as if he feared disturbing the peace of the place. “One of the first things I ever ordered to be built after becoming mayor. Everyone always remembers me for my thirst for battle, my fighting prowess, but after all the warring was done and I sat on that chair you saw inside… I needed something to quiet my flame. Octavia was that for me once, back in the day. I planted many of the plants and flowers you see around us with the intention of showing this place to her eventually. My little corner of the world where I’d come to clear my thoughts, and maybe one day share them with her.”

Balthazar watched the man’s fond expression as his small eyes idly scanned the garden from behind his dense mane of hair, and the crab felt a sense of empathy for him.

That place was to the warrior a lot like the pond was to the crustacean.

“But!” Bergen boomed, suddenly returning to his usual demeanor. “That was a long time ago, when I was younger and still foolish! Do you know what else happened a long time ago?”

The man walked a few steps closer to the center of the circular walkway and stood next to an empty patch of dirt in between the stone paths.

“Do you see this place?” he asked, placing both of his meaty fists against his waist, elbows throwing the thick fur mantle back as he did. “This is where my Camellia used to stand!”

“Who?” the crab asked, confused.

“My glamorous, prize-winning shrub!” exclaimed the mayor, throwing his arms out.

“Oh…” Balthazar said, trying to fight the urge to hit the front of his face with his pincer.

“Her pink flowers were the most beautiful thing you could imagine!” Bergen continued. “At least until your business partner, Tristan, got into his cups and decided to ‘water’ them himself! They wilted and died! Unrecoverable loss! I still mourn them all these years later!”

The eight-legged merchant tried his best to suppress a sigh and keep his eyes from rolling.

“But we all know now that was Antoine’s scheme to screw Tristan over,” he argued back.

“Oh, I know that, crab!” the burly human said, wagging a finger. “But it was still his tinkle to deliver the deadly blow! A man can’t just forget that!”

This time, Balthazar couldn’t help it, and his eyestalks rolled.

“But worry not,” Bergen added. “I will not penalize or try to influence the guild’s decision negatively against your partner. I may be a stern man, but I am also fair!”

He paused and inflated his chest before adding in a quieter voice, “Just let him know that he’s still forbidden from entering these grounds until I say otherwise.”

“Great, I’ll let him know,” the crab said, eager to just move on from the shrubbery subject. “But back to more important matters—namely, me. I’m an independent merchant from outside town, why would Ardville’s guild want me present during their meeting to choose a new guildmaster? I’m not too keen on being set up for some kind of revenge by the old one’s cronies.”

“Again, worry not,” the mayor said, raising a halting hand. “In the months that followed Antoine’s fall, we spent a lot of time rooting out the tendrils of his influence. Unsurprisingly, a man like him did not have many actual friends or allies, just arrangements of convenience, and once the card at the top fell, the entire castle of cards toppled. They all were quite eager to tell on each other and cooperate, once Antoine’s money and power were gone and his position was up for grabs. Abernathy and the other honest merchants used this to purge all the scum from our ranks. Our guild of merchants today is in no way the same as it was, which is why it’s taken so long to get to this new guildmaster choice part.”

Balthazar crossed his arms. “That’s great and all, but still… What do I have to do with all that?”

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“Influence, crab!” Bergen boomed. “Do you not get it? The guild wants to build upon a solid foundation with the increasingly famous merchant crab, and who better to lead them than an Ardville-born guildmaster who happens to also be said crab’s business partner?!”

“Oh,” the crab said, uncrossing his arms.

“I will never admit to this outside this private conversation, friend,” the mayor said, bringing his voice down as close to a whisper as he could—which was about the normal conversation volume for most other people. “Ardville isn’t exactly a bustling metropolis. We are a small town, all things considered. Proud, beautiful, and growing, but not on the same level as the capital, or even…” He let out a quiet groan. “Marquessa. So, having a celebrity like the merchant crab right outside our door puts us on the map of commerce! The guild wants to take advantage of that. No offense meant, of course!”

Balthazar rubbed his chin with the back of his pincer, thinking.

“None taken,” he said idly. “I will use them right back.”

“Ah! There they are!” Bergen boomed, spreading his arms open.

Abernathy and Madeleine appeared from the opposite end of the garden, the mayor’s official walking alongside the baker with hands behind his back and a less stern expression than usual on his face—there was even a discreet smile under his long, lean nose.

“I will meet you by the town gate tomorrow morning before heading to work then, Ms. Madeleine,” he said to the girl, with a gentle nod of his head.

“Sure thing, Mr. Abernathy!” she replied with a smile. “It’s a big batch, but I assure you I will have the biscuits ready a couple of days before Festus!”

“The hell is Festus?” muttered the crab.

No one seemed to hear or pay any mind to the crustacean’s puzzlement as the town official continued.

“Excellent. I know it’s a lot of work, but I want to give our staff and the guards a sweet surprise this year. I will have your payment for your work ready in the morning.”

Balthazar cocked an eyestalk at his friend. “Doing some business of your own too, eh? Do you need me to haggle the price with him for you? I’ve already beaten Mr. Abernathy once, I’m sure I can squeeze some extra coins from him!”

The young woman and the older man both chuckled.

“No need, Balthazar,” Madeleine said, smiling. “We already closed the deal. But I’ll try to remember that for next time.”

“Abe!” Bergen exclaimed thunderously, startling the tax inspector in a way that left Balthazar fairly sure that he was somewhat used to the scares, even if never fully prepared for them.

“Yes, sir?” Abernathy responded, closing his eyes for a moment and letting out a quiet sigh.

“Make sure you arrange for an invitation to the guild meeting to be delivered to our crab friend over here,” the mayor said. “Along with that list we’ve discussed, the Marquessa one.”

“Ah, very well, sir,” said the right-hand man, pulling a pocket watch from his robe and glancing at it. “I believe it’s almost time for your next appointment.” Seeing the warrior’s puzzled frown, Abernathy elaborated. “The one with the local ornithologist, about that strange ongoing issue of the sudden disappearance of birds in the areas around Ardville.”

“Bah! That nonsense,” Bergen exclaimed with disdain.

“No birds around sounds like the opposite of an issue to me,” Balthazar muttered under his breath.

“But fine, let’s humor the fool so he stops pestering us!” the mayor declared. “I’m done here anyway.”

Abernathy nodded once. “Very well. So I take it that… negotiations went well?”

Bergen let out one of his characteristic booming laughs, placing both hands over his pronounced gut as his entire torso bounced up and down.

“Hahaha! Of course! You know how persuasive my axe and I can be!”

The three humans chuckled at the mayor’s remark, while the crab scowled at him.

***

With the sun already descending and night soon to come, the crab and the baker made their way out of Ardville’s gates and toward Boulder’s Point. The day had been pleasant, spent skittering around town as the girl showed her favorite places to the crabby visitor in between her purchases of baking ingredients.

“So, are you going to finally tell me what you and the mayor talked about?” Madeleine asked, rolling her shoulders to relieve the tension from all the bags of baking supplies she was carrying.

“Mostly it was men talk,” Balthazar responded, huffing and puffing as he struggled to keep the crate of milk bottles he was carrying over his shell balanced.

Seeing the glare the girl was throwing at him, the merchant rolled his eyes and chuckled.

“I’m joking, I’m joking,” he said. “Well, mostly joking. But the important parts were that he wanted to strike a deal for me to act as the middlecrab through which Ardville can get their hands on some sweet mangoes… and other stuff from Marquessa.”

“Oh, neat!” Madeleine said. “More business for you is always nice!”

“And,” Balthazar continued, “he also let me know that their guild of merchants is interested in meeting me during their gathering to pick the new guildmaster.”

“Oh,” said the girl, looking pensive. “You don’t think they’re considering…”

“No, don’t be silly,” the crab responded, shaking his shell and nearly spilling the milk. “They may be interested in making deals with me, but certainly not have a crab as their guildmaster. Not to mention, I’m not actually from or in Ardville, so it wouldn’t make the smallest of senses to even consider me. Besides, above all that, I would have no interest whatsoever in that position. Yuck! No way. I’m glad to let Tristan have it instead.”

Madeleine responded with a shrug of her left shoulder, and the pair continued their walk back home in silence.

Taking the quiet opportunity, the crab decided to bring up his system and check out the level up screen.

[You have reached level 34]

[Choose a base stat to increase by 10]

[Health: 320/320]

[Stamina: 30/30]

[Mana: 50/50]

Without so much as a hesitant thought, Balthazar reinforced his healthy pool of… health with 10 more points.

[Health: 330/330]

As he moved on to the attributes screen, the merchant realized something he had almost forgotten about.

[You have 3 unspent attribute points]

[Attributes]

[Strength: 5]

[Endurance: 5]

[Agility: 5]

[Perception: 5]

[Intellect: 20]

[Charisma: 96]

Hmm, I was already going to put all three points into it as usual, but now I’m getting really curious about what will happen once my Charisma reaches—

The crab’s thoughts were cut short as a new notification appeared in front of his eyes after investing all three of the available points into his Charisma attribute.

[Charisma: 99]

[You have reached maximum Charisma. A special trait has been unlocked!]

The hell?! Balthazar thought as he continued idly walking down the cobblestone road alongside Madeleine. The maximum is 99? Why not 100?! What kind of psycho would cap it one digit away from a nice round number?! He rolled his eyestalks and groaned quietly. Birds, probably.

Curious about what special trait he had gained for reaching such high Charisma, the crab scrolled down to read the next box of text.

[Motivational Crab]

[Trait]

[Your words are so persuasive they can influence others into believing they’re capable of things they usually aren’t. Even if it’s complete crap. Especially if it’s complete crap.]

Balthazar frowned and then scoffed internally.

Pff, as if I wasn’t already plenty persuasive.

Disregarding the new trait as a novel trick he would have no need for, the crab dismissed all system prompts and focused back on the path ahead, his bazaar already in sight.

He had better, far more important things to focus on.

Things like sitting down with Tristan and discussing their plans for the guild meeting.

Or figuring out how to best take advantage of his new link between Ardville and Marquessa.

Or how he would find some adventurers fit to explore the dungeon mines with him.

Or, even more importantly, what flavor of pie he would be eating for supper tonight.