“Are you sure I can’t interest you in anything else?” Balthazar asked.
“Nah, I’m good,” the adventurer on the other side of the counter said.
“It’s a pretty big dungeon, you should take plenty to drink! Perhaps one of my brand-new Potions of Hydration? Made with pure water straight from my pond!”
The crab held out a shiny bottle of clear liquid with a small label on it. The piece of paper had an X scratched on it. “You know it’s genuine because it’s signed by !”
The adventurer cocked an eyebrow and looked down at the bottle.
“Made with water from this pond, you said?”
“That’s right!”
“The sa one where you live… swim, and… bathe?”
“Yep! That’s what gives it its pungent aftertaste!”
The young man grimaced and gave a quick shake of his head. “No, I’m all set, thanks.”
Balthazar exhaled sharply as he watched the human leave.
It had been the third ti an adventurer had co through his bazaar on the way to Semla Dungeon in the past couple of days without buying anything.
The rchant knew he hadn’t lost his touch for trading. Those guys had just been suspiciously well stocked.
As the adventurer was about to step out the door, the crab brought his monocle up to his left eye and saw what level the young man was—level 17.
The seasoned trader knew sothing was off there. That adventurer, like the others who had co through there earlier, was far too low level to be taking on that dungeon on his own. Word had surely already spread through their guild that Semla Dungeon was far more difficult than the typical dungeons around that area of the continent, so what were those guys doing going inside alone with such confidence?
Worse than that, without buying anything from the crab?
He had seldom t an adventurer who left town without forgetting so important supplies or handy item. A big part of his entire business had been built on that very fact. Yet, those odd adventurers passing through had been far too well-equipped for what was typical given their levels.
Where did a level 17 even get such expensive winged boots? Balthazar wondered, recalling the shiny new boots the young man was wearing.
A couple of hours before, he had also seen a level 15 warrior marching into the dungeon entrance with a blacksteel sword the crab had never seen anyone below at least level 30 carrying.
Even stranger had been the obviously novice mage the day before, proudly carrying an Elderwood Staff despite looking like he had just stepped out of Star Beach and was still learning how to make sparks with his mana.
How are all these fools getting all this expensive gear when they usually can barely afford shoelace replacents?
Sothing about this was making the crab’s rcantile senses tingle, and not in a good way.
“Brrr!” Balthazar exclaid as a sudden chill ran through his shell. “Damn winter cold!”
The rchant stepped closer to the fire pit at the center of the gazebo, which was now always lit whether it was day or night.
Rubbing his pincers together for warmth, the crab grumbled. “I need better adventurers to go in there and clear those halls, not so amateurs with expensive gear they don’t know how to use. It’s like you just can’t find decent free labor around these parts anymore!”
As the cold crustacean mumbled to himself, a voice ca from the entrance.
“Talking to yourself, are ya?” a gruff voice said.
Balthazar turned and threw his arms open. “John! You got my ssage!”
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The crab skittered to the old carpenter, glad to see him show up so fast after sending Rob to find him that morning.
“O’ course,” the seasoned craftsman said, his trusty smoking pipe hanging from the corner of his mouth. “You have a lot of free ti when you’re retired like , so when my second favorite crab calls, I’m happy to co down to see him.”
Balthazar cocked an eyestalk. “Second favorite?”
The corner of the carpenter’s mouth that didn’t have a pipe hanging from it curved into a smirk.
“Well, yes. My favorite one was the stead crab my wife used to cook for our anniversary every year.”
The rchant frowned and squinted hard at the old man as his mouth curved downward in an expression of exaggerated annoyance.
“Hah! Just teasing ya, you old scuttler,” John said with a chuckle. “I never ate crab in my life. Only nobles can afford that luxury.”
Balthazar joined in on the man’s chuckling, but still letting out a few nervous laughs as he heard that last part.
“So, what do you need from ?” the carpenter asked. “I’m guessing if you called here it’s because you need so more work done.”
“Right you are,” the rchant said, leading the human through the bazaar and to the back. “But first I just wanted to thank you for all the repairs and small improvents you’ve done during the ti I was traveling. Henrietta and Tristan told how much work you’ve put into this place and how you refused to let them pay you. Thank you for that.”
John gave him a small nod. “It’s no trouble. I don’t get to do much work beyond small odds and ends since I retired, so having this place of yours as a project I can keep myself busy with is a real boon. And it just wouldn’t feel right to charge money for it, especially when I don’t work as fast as I used to in my youth. There’s no need to thank for work I greatly enjoyed doing.”
“No,” said Balthazar. “I ant thank you for not letting them pay you. I hadn’t given them permission to do that when I left.”
The old carpenter took the smoking pipe off his mouth and let out a hearty laugh as he threw his head back and placed one hand on his chest.
“Hahaha! You got , crab! Thank you. I needed that laugh.”
The rchant put on a slightly awkward smile as the man wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.
I wasn’t joking, but alright. Balthazar thought.
“Anyway, that’s yesterday’s work,” John said after regaining his composure and placing the pipe back on his lip. “What do you have for today?”
“Right,” said the crab as they exited through the back of the trading post. “See that area over there next to the bazaar? I want to build sothing there.”
The old carpenter ran a hand over his salt and pepper beard as he looked at the empty patch of land Balthazar had pointed to, his eyes squinting and asuring the land.
“Hmm, I see,” he said after a mont. “Business is growing, and you want to expand your bazaar, is it?”
Balthazar smiled. “Not quite.”
That statent seed to pique the old-tir’s interest, making him cock an eyebrow at the crab.
“I want to build a smaller, separate building there,” the rchant explained. “With a kitchen. Plenty of working surfaces. And an oven. Multiple ovens, actually.”
A knowing smile appeared on John’s rugged face.
“Ah, the kind of place a baker would feel at ho in, is it? Like that one girl I heard you rescued from a dragon’s lair recently, eh?”
“Exactly,” Balthazar replied with a wide grin.
“Well,” the craftsman started, crossing his arms. “I’m afraid you missed an important detail when you called here to do this job for you.”
“I did?!” the confused crustacean said, his smile fading in a flash. “You won’t take the project?”
John shook his head. “No, nothing like that. I’d love to, but you realize you called a carpenter to build you a kitchen… with ovens…”
Balthazar nodded along to each of the old man’s words, waiting for so form of conclusion to his point.
“You know I work with wood,” the carpenter continued. “Which is known for burning easily.”
“Ooooh!” the crab said, smacking a claw against the top of his shell. “Of course! Building a kitchen out of wood is probably not a good idea. My bad, I’m not really used to this whole house planning stuff. Until a few months ago I had never even seen a ceiling before.”
John chuckled.
“It’s alright. What you need is soone who works with stone, for your counters, your ovens, and everything else a kitchen needs.”
Balthazar crossed his arms. “Damn. What are the odds that I’ll find one of those and that they’ll work for free too?”
The old man chuckled even harder.
“Lucky for you, I think I know just the mason.”
After promising Balthazar he would return soon with more details, the old carpenter headed back to Ardville.
The crab watched him walk up the road, waving goodbye and feeling giddy inside. He could not wait to break the news to Madeleine.
“Heeeeelp!”
Startled, Balthazar spun around to where the scream had co from—the back of his bazaar.
Skittering through his trading post in a hurry, the rchant quickly reached the back entrance, where he found a young man stumbling his way up the steps into the gazebo. He was the sa adventurer the crab had been talking with right before John arrived.
“What the hell are you screaming fo—” Balthazar’s words trailed off as his gaze landed on the adventurer’s feet, making his eyestalks stand up. “Oh… Oh my.”
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