Merchant Crab: A LitRPG Adventure, page 35
Balthazar struggled to finish the words, and once he did, he felt he would need at least two whole pies before the bitter taste would leave his mouth.
“Very well!” the once again boastful knight announced. “I shall set out on my journey and find you this rare cure, kind crab! For your friend. For you. For the gods!”
The crab stood staring impassively at her.
“Right,” she finally said, seeing his lack of reaction. “Off I go, then. I will journey north now and hopefully return soon with good news. Farewell, merchant.”
Balthazar watched as she continued her way down the road, heading south, armor clanking with every step.
“Pretending to give quests to idiots,” the golden crab said while shaking his shell. “I can’t believe I’ve stooped this low.”
FORTY-SIX
BEDSIDE TALK
Balthazar watched as yet another adventurer walked away from his trading post with their gold payment. One more that had come by and left with no information on the flower the crab sought.
He looked down at the piece of paper the orcs had left him, a charcoal drawing of a flower made on it, and on the back the instructions on how to add it to the prepared concoction the shaman had left in a vial before departing.
“Why did it have to be such a hard-to-find flower? Couldn’t it just have been some common mushroom that grows anywhere?” Balthazar complained to himself.
“Is this a bad time?” said a girl’s voice from the entrance of the trading post.
The merchant turned to meet the new arrival, who approached in a white dress and apron, with a basket in each hand.
“Oh. Madeleine. I didn’t expect you here today,” said the surprised crab.
Her face seemed less bright than usual—somewhat somber and concerned but making an effort to not let it show. Balthazar wondered if she already knew about Druma, but that made little sense to him, as he had been spreading the word to adventurers that he was seeking a specific flower, but he made sure to keep the part about it being for a sick goblin to himself in case some adventurers felt less inclined to help find it if they knew that detail.
He suspected something else was troubling her.
“Hey, Balthazar,” she said with a weak attempt at a smile. “I had these fresh brioches for you and decided to come down here myself to deliver them and hopefully get a chance to talk to you.”
“That’s great. Fresh-baked pastries always improve my mood. Are you alright, though? You look like someone beat your cake batter counterclockwise.”
“I’m fine. Sort of. That’s what I came down here to talk to you about,” the baker said, still holding both baskets in her hands. “Can I put these down somewhere? I also brought some meat treats for Druma. He’s usually so quick to come and take the baskets off my hands. Where is he? Busy with some other project of yours?”
As she finished her question, her searching eyes landed on the other side of the pond, where the large figure of the golem sat over the goblin’s bed of hay. Her eyebrows rose as she saw the scene.
“Oh, gods,” she said, concern on her face no longer disguised. “Balthazar, did something happen to Druma?”
“Yes, I was trying to find the best way to get to that,” the crab awkwardly admitted. Breaking bad news always felt a lot easier when he did not have to care about the recipient.
Madeleine put both baskets down on the floor and quickly made her way across the bridge, with Balthazar hurriedly following.
She knelt down next to him and placed her hand on the unconscious goblin’s forehead. “He’s burning up, Balthazar. What in the world happened?”
“A wolf bit him on his leg,” the crab explained. “I was out on the road when a pack of feral wolves showed up and surrounded me. Druma and Bouldy showed up just in time to help, but in the chaos one of them got to Druma and sank its fangs into him. Damn wound must have been infected, and now he’s like this.”
“My gods,” the girl said, covering her mouth with both hands. “Are you alright? Did they hurt you too?”
“No, they didn’t, but it was a damn close call. One of them was this close to my face, but…” Balthazar’s words trailed off as he looked at the weak breathing of his friend on the bed and felt foolish once again. “But I’m fine, really. Druma’s the one who really has it worse.”
“I thought what you said to the taxman about the wolves around the area was you making stuff up,” said the baker. “I had no idea that was a real threat.”
So did Balthazar. He had never seen wolves anywhere near his pond before that day. The coincidence of them showing up soon after he made that story up still bugged him, but he just couldn’t find the energy to give it any more thought with everything else happening. Perhaps it really was just a coincidence, but it still felt like there had already been a few too many of those recently.
He quietly watched as the girl took the piece of cloth that was on a nearby stool and dipped it in the bucket of water next to the haystack before gently pressing it over the goblin’s head. He shivered, but his eyes remained closed.
Finally, she spoke again. “We can’t just leave him like this. Is there not some kind of potion you could give him?”
“I did,” the crab responded. “Health potions don’t seem to have an effect because he has some kind of rare disease, and he can’t heal until it’s cured. I’ve had… someone take a look at him, and she gave me the cure, but it’s missing a rare ingredient, so I’ve been trying to get one of these airheaded adventurers to bring it to me, but with no success so far.”
“Curses. And Rye will be away from town for a few days, so I can’t even ask him to help either,” the girl said while pulling the stool closer and sitting next to the bed. “Maybe I could visit the apothecary in town and ask if they have this ingredient. What is it anyway?”
“It’s a rare flower called frostshade that apparently only blooms one day a year between winter and spring,” Balthazar answered. “And don’t bother. One of my regular clients already checked the apothecary and told me they had nothing like it. My only hope is that someone out there still has some dried-out petals of it stored somewhere. Between so many adventurers always picking every flower and mushroom they come across, there has to be at least one that has picked up this flower before.”
“Ugh,” she said, still looking down at Druma. “Just please be careful who you make deals with, alright?”
“I’m always careful when it comes to making deals, but why do you say that?”
“There’s always those out there willing to sell the promise of a miracle to those in desperate need,” Madeleine responded, her voice gaining a bitter hint to it. “Healers, alchemists… witches.”
“Hmm,” the reluctant crab started. “Sounds like you speak from experience. Is there something you want to tell me?”
“It’s nothing… I just really don’t like any kind of witches.”
“I get it. Witches aren’t to be trusted, sure. I still remember how it went with that woman, Velvet, and your reaction to her, but there seems to be more to it than what you’re telling me.”
Madeleine sighed as she turned the cloth on Druma’s head over.
“I… I just have really bad memories about witches,” she slowly admitted.
“Oh,” the crab said.
Balthazar was not too keen on sharing emotions and certainly not very good at it either, so his immediate instinct was to change the subject or skitter away to go eat a brioche, but another, albeit smaller, part of him looked at his two friends, each troubled in their own ways, and compelled him to stop being a cold-hearted crustacean and stay.
He did not go head-to-head with a taxman just to back down on a heart-to-heart with a baker now.
“Did… did something happen in the past?”
The girl let out a long sigh before finding her words.
“It was back when my mom was still alive,” she confessed, her eyes still staring emptily at the goblin. “It was when she started getting sick. No one could figure out what she had, and nothing made her get better. Until one day a woman showed up, told her she knew what her ailment was, and promised she could cure her, for a price, of course.”
“She was a witch, I take it?”
“Yes. An old woman with white hair and comforting words, like some nice and trustworthy granny. I didn’t fully understand it back then. I was too young. She had my mom wrapped around her finger in no time. Whatever money we made, she would spend with the woman for treatments and cures that never really fixed her—just made her feel better for long enough to keep going back for more. Meanwhile, under it all, my mom was only getting worse, but she wouldn’t see it. That… witch blinded her to everything. She even used me in her manipulation, making my mom think of what would happen to me without a mother, pulling at her heartstrings, all to keep her paying with everything she made.”
Madeleine paused, her gaze still down on the goblin as she gently wiped his forehead with the wet cloth, but her thoughts clearly far away.
“Until one day she got too ill to get up from bed,” the baker said with a shaky deep breath. “And all she asked for was to see the woman, still convinced she was the only one who could save her. That’s how bewitched she was. And of course, once the money ran out and my mom was too sick to get up and work, the witch was gone, nowhere to be found, after having taken all she could from us and done nothing to cure my mother.”
Balthazar opened his mouth to speak, but he could not find anything suitable to say. He could already guess what had happened after.
“So yes, it’s true,” the teary-eyed girl said, bringing her gaze back to the crab as she wiped her eyes on the back of her hands. “I don’t really trust or like witches. I know what they are, what they do, and I can’t stand the idea of ever seeing someone I care about falling for their poisoned words again. It makes my blood boil.”
Looking back at the ground, Balthazar thought back to Madeleine’s outburst on the day a witch had visited his trading post. He remembered how upset she was and how annoyed at her reaction he also was. Once more, the crab felt foolish. He always complained about others, but he never thought to ask either.
“I’m sorry,” Balthazar said in a quiet voice.
“It’s not your fault,” she responded, trying to force a smile. “Gods, look at me weeping at my own troubles while poor Druma is lying over here sick. That’s so selfish of me.”
“No, it’s alright I’m the one who asked,” Balthazar said. “It’s not like you can do much for him right now. Not unless you have some petals of frostshade hiding in your kitchen between your herbs and spices.”
“Hah, no, I’m afraid not, unfortunately,” the baker said, through her sad smile. “What I can do is get back to town and pester everyone who will listen about this flower until we find someone who has seen it before.”
She stood up from the stool and turned to the golem behind the bed.
“I’ll go now, but you keep on watching over our friend, alright, Bouldy? I’m counting on you, big guy.”
The stone giant gave her a gentle smile and an affirmative nod. “Friend.”
She took a few steps around the stack of hay and approached Blue’s cushion, who quickly lifted her head and began wagging her tail.
“And don’t think I forgot about you, girl,” Madeleine told her while giving the drake a scratch behind the ears. “You keep on being a good girl and protecting our little guys, alright?”
Balthazar did his best to suppress a scoff at the mention of Blue being a good girl.
“Especially against any witches,” she added, whispering closer to the drake’s ear. “If you ever see one, you give them a good scorching for me, alright?”
“What was it you came down here to talk to me about anyway?” the crab asked.
“Oh. It’s… nothing important,” she said as she made her way back to the bridge. “We can talk about it some other time.”
FORTY-SEVEN
WITCHING YOUR TROUBLES AWAY
The day was nearly over, and despite his best efforts, Balthazar had not yet found a lead on the elusive frostshade flower. Every traveler who passed by had been of no concrete help, and even those who promised to look for it left the crab with little hope. Most of them couldn’t tell which way was north, let alone figure out where to find the right flower.
Lifting his gaze from the herbology book he was studying, Balthazar looked to the other shore, where the other three inhabitants of the pond were. Druma in his bed, Bouldy still firmly planted behind it, and Blue stretching her body next to her cushion. The crab couldn’t recall seeing her fly up to hunt for food all day.
He wondered if she was refusing to leave the goblin’s side or if he had simply been too busy all day to notice her catching prey. He decided it was likely the latter, as he still had little belief in the drake caring for anyone.
Or at the very least, he’d like to believe it wasn’t just him she did not care much for.
Bringing his attention back down to the book, he continued searching for any reference to where the frostshade flower could possibly grow. He was doing it mostly to keep himself occupied, as he knew finding its location would be of little use outside its blooming season.
And then there was also the matter of how he couldn’t go find it, even if he knew where it was.
As much as Balthazar tried to avoid thinking about it, his issue with leaving the area around the pond still continued echoing in the back of his mind.
He tried to convince himself it was perhaps some spell put on him as a prank, that someone would jump out of a bush, pointing and laughing at him for falling for it, but in reality, he knew that couldn’t be it. Something deep within him really compelled him not to leave the pond.
But what? And why?
Even if some divine force existed, why should it care where a simple crab or other random wild animals go? It made no sense to him.
And above all else, he wanted to know how he could break free from those bonds. Whatever “curse” it might be, he could not let it restrict his life forever.
He didn’t exactly have any wish to leave his pond, but now that he knew someone or something was restricting his choice in the matter, the crab would be damned if he wouldn’t break free from it.
He would stay in the pond, but he would do it by choice, not by decree.
But all that was a problem for later, he had to keep reminding himself. For the moment, he was doing his best to do something unusual for him: putting another’s interests before his own. It was a strange feeling for the self-centered crab, but deep down, it kind of felt good.
Not that he was yet ready to admit to it if anyone asked. He had a crabby reputation to uphold, after all.
With a frustrated thud, Balthazar shut the book and placed it back on a shelf. Light was quickly fading from the sky, and he was tired of chasing for leads in old, yellowed pages.
Retrieving a small brioche from one of the baskets Madeleine had left during her last visit, the crab skittered along the outer shore of his pond to a remote and tucked away corner between some boulders.
Sitting by the edge of the water, he nibbled on the sweet and fluffy bread, admiring the great view that spot provided of the waterfall on the opposite side of the pond.
The surface was clear, and he could see many small fish dancing beneath the surface, their colorful scales reflecting the last remains of sunlight in mesmerizing rainbow patterns.
The crab was so lost in thought he did not hear any approaching footsteps, if there were even any, but by the time he heard the voice, the one who spoke was already sitting on a small rock next to him.
“Hello, Balthie.”
The startled crab jumped in place and dropped his pastry in the water with a loud plop sound.
Velvet, the witch, smiled at him as she crossed her legs and rested both hands on her knee.
“How the hell did you get in here?! Get away from me!” Balthazar quickly blurted out as he stumbled back against a boulder.
“Oh now, sweetie, is that the way to treat a friendly face?” she said, pouting her lips and batting her eyelashes.
“You’re no friend of mine!” the apprehensive crab exclaimed, keeping as close to the rock and as far from her as he could. “Shoo! Leave my pond; you’re not welcome here!”
“My, you’re awfully bitter for someone who eats so much sugar. What has that evil baker been putting in your pastries? What was her name? Madeleine, right?”
“You keep my baker’s name out of your mouth, witch!” Balthazar warned, trying his best to sound assertive despite the faltering in his voice.
“Such bravado for a silly little girl.” The black-clad woman placed an open hand against her chest in a dramatic manner. “To think that I came here with such good intentions, only to be scorned like this.”
“Good intentions?” the merchant skeptically repeated. “You’re probably here looking to mutilate me again!”
“You wound me, sir!” said the witch mockingly. “I came here after I heard word on the road that you were desperately looking for a certain rare flower.”
Balthazar’s heart sank in his shell.
“The frostshade petals? Do you know of them?” he hesitantly asked, unsure of which answer he feared most.
She opened a wide smile, revealing her pristine white teeth that contrasted against the blackness of her lipstick.
“Know of them? Darling, I plucked them myself last season.”
Balthazar started averting his eyes as he saw her fingers reach between the cleavage of her dress until he realized she was only retrieving a small vial from there. While her dress did seem to lack any pockets, the crab still found her choice for item storage too unconventional.
As she brought the small container under the fading sunlight, Balthazar saw what was inside: five pointy and dried-out petals of a blue flower. A perfect match to what the shaman had drawn and described.
“Is this not what you were looking for?” she asked.
