The crab and the baker stood at the edge of Ardville’s snow-laden main square, where opposite of them stood an imposing building, slightly elevated from everything else due to the small hill it was built on.
It was made of sturdy dark wood, and its shape vaguely reminded Balthazar of an upside down ship made to sail the seas that had sohow been turned into a building.
Its roof held several layers of white snow and below them, from its front face, at least a dozen banners flapped in the wind, displaying the colors of the hold—yellow with white and brown details. But nothing stood out more when gazing upon the town hall than the grandiose statue erected on a circular stone platform in the open space in front of the building's entrance.
Made of dark gray granite, a monunt in the shape of a man stood with fists against his waist and chest pointing to the sky. The statue was about as tall as Bouldy, by Balthazar’s estimation. With small piles of snow on his shoulders and atop his head, the bearded figure in armor and a large fur cloak depicted by it was clearly ant to be Mayor Bergen—although a rather embellished version of him.
Aside from the fact that the town’s leader was most definitely not as big as a stone golem, the rchant could also not help but to notice a clear lack of… stomach on the sculpture. In fact, the man depicted by the statue seed almost unreasonably muscular when compared to the robust man the crab had t months before. To say nothing of the facial features of the mayor shown there—whoever had made that statue really took the word “chiseling” seriously when carving his jawline.
“Wow… That’s supposed to be the mayor?” Balthazar said, an eyestalk cocked and a pincer pointing at the statue.
“That?” said Madeleine, following her friend’s gaze. “Oh, yes. It was put there soon after Mayor Bergen took leadership of our town, over 25 years ago. He was lauded as Ardville's hero and beca our mayor after leading his n in a valiant charge against an orc siege on the town. I wasn’t even born yet, so I’ve only heard the stories, but he was apparently a mighty warrior in his youth.” She let out a chuckle. “I think he still sees himself that way today, too.”
“Riiiight…” the crab said, eyeing the granite figure with an eyestalk raised higher than the other.
“But co on, let’s go!” the young woman said, grabbing Balthazar’s pincer and pulling him behind her. “We don’t have ti to see the sights, we’re already late!”
Bouncing wildly over the square’s icy cobblestones, the crab skittered as fast as his eight legs could while the baker dragged him across the busy lines of carriages and carts crossing up and down the town’s snowy plaza.
As they passed through the townsfolk, so gave a confused stare as they witnessed a girl pulling a giant crustacean wearing a backpack behind her. Others simply gave a knowing raise of the eyebrow upon recognizing the rchant crab and made a hushed comnt to those accompanying them.
In a hurry, the pair passed by the imposing statue, Balthazar only having ti for a brief up-close glance of the sun’s rays dancing around the grinning mayor’s bearded jaw as they walked up the path up the hill, leading to the hall’s gate.
“Hello!” Madeleine greeted, smiling at the two guards stationed next to the entrance. “My friend is here to see the mayor. He has an appointnt, but we’re a little late, I’m so sorry. Can we co in?”
The younger of the two guards glanced down from under his helt’s visor, and while maintaining his straight posture, spoke back loudly. “Announce your na so we may check the visitor’s book first!”
Balthazar took a step forward, past the baker, and looked at the young guard with an expression of disapproval.
“Seriously, kid? How many giant talking crabs do you get through these parts that you’d need to identify myself?”
“At ease, son,” the other, much older-sounding gate guard said to the first. “This here is clearly the rchant crab. Mr. Abernathy told us to expect him. You can tell a crab from a dog, can’t you?” He turned his attention to the crustacean. “Excuse the boy, he’s new and eager to follow protocol. Go right ahead, they’re waiting for you.”
As the large, thick wooden door was pushed open in front of them, Balthazar felt a wave of warmth wash over him from the inside of the hall, along with the sll of roasted ats and fresh fruits.
Stepping inside, the pair was greeted by the warm orange glow filling the hall from the large rectangular fire pit at its center. Above it, several spit forks held various ats, slowly roasting over the crackling flas. Four long banquet tables surrounded the pit, each one covered in plates, platters, and bowls containing enough food to feed a battalion.
The spread was impressive, yet the crab noticed only the lack of sweets and pastries—without them, no feast could ever be complete in his eyes.
It was nothing like Marquessa’s city hall, the rchant realized, which was much larger but also housed the halls for its guilds. This one certainly felt more… holy.
Across the warm and inviting hall, through the heat distortion of the fire, Balthazar spotted a big chair. It was not a throne, for it lacked the luxury of one. Instead, it was just a chair made of sturdy dark spruce wood, with a cushioned seat and back, and it was almost as wide as it was tall. It was positioned in a way that ensured whoever sat on it could oversee the entire hall, but also be seen by all.
More than a royal’s throne, the chair was a leader’s seat.
What the crab found odd was how that impressive chamber was completely devoid of people, except for one, across the dining hall.
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Next to the raised platform where the chair stood empty, the rchant noticed a man. Old, almost scrawny of appearance, but with an impressively straight posture. On his face sat a pair of glasses with small lenses, resting closer to the tip of his nose than to his eyes.
Despite Balthazar’s usual difficulties with recognizing humans, and how long it had been since the crustacean had last seen him, the rchant imdiately recognized the man. He had once been his dreaded harbinger of doom, for he was that town’s tax collector, but that was far in the past, and now he saw the official as soone worth respecting. If nothing else, for his professionalism and fair judgnt.
And also his gluttony for sweet pastries, sothing the crab found incredibly relatable.
“Mr. Balthazar,” the town official said, walking up a step of the platform behind him in order to establish line of sight with the two arrivals.
“Mr. Abernathy,” the crab responded as he walked around the fire pit and stopped a few steps away from the empty chair. “It’s been a while.”
“Indeed, it has,” the man in the green robe said, tilting his head back to peer at the crab below through his glasses. “And you are late.”
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Abernathy!” Madeleine exclaid, still standing a few paces back, by one of the banquet tables. “It was my fault! Balthazar doesn’t know the town streets well yet, and I was supposed to accompany him here, but then I took him to see my grandmother and lost track of ti. Please don’t bla him!”
Abernathy turned his gaze to the baker, adjusting his glasses on the tip of his nose slightly with a finger before letting out an intrigued “hmm.”
The young woman’s brow jumped after a second.
“Oh, sorry! I’m Madeleine, we t before at Balthazar’s place. I’m a—”
“Baker,” the tax inspector finished for her. “I rember you well, Ms. Madeleine. Hard not to, given your talent. That pecan pie? Absolutely divine. I still rember its taste fondly. And of course, hard not to recognize the na of the girl who was taken by the first dragon seen in centuries, and that sohow managed to return alive. I would very much like to hear that tale one day, if you’re willing to oblige .”
Madeleine and Balthazar exchanged a quick awkward glance at each other before the crab quickly cleared his throat and spoke, trying to move the conversation away from anything to do with the huge red dragon they now had secretly living above the pond.
“Ahem, right. A little late, but here I am. It still seems like I arrived before the one I ca here to see, heh.” The rchant tilted his eyestalks toward the empty chair behind the town official. “Say, Mr. Abernathy, just between us here… Any idea what Bergen wants with ?”
The tax inspector’s brow rose slightly as he tilted his back even further.
“What Mayor Bergen wishes to discuss with you is for him to reveal, not . As for his absence, I’m sure he will be here soo—”
The door behind the mayor’s chair swung open suddenly, startling the three of them as wood and iron slamd against the wall, followed by a booming announcent that filled the hall like a battle horn.
“There he is!” Mayor Bergen exclaid. “The crab of the mont!”
The burly mountain of a man walked into the hall with loud stomps, tal clinking as he moved within his heavy armor. The only part of his body not clad in armor was his head, crowned with an unruly mane of thick, dark hair and a dense, bushy beard that left only a small patch of skin visible around his eyes and nose.
The barrel-chested man walked around the chair, a big grin filled with white teeth standing out from between the dark beard around his mouth. Unfortunately, Balthazar could not figure out whether the mayor’s smile was one of friendly delight, or deranged intent.
With a quiet gulp, the rchant eyed the weapon Bergen carried on his back—it was an enormous battleaxe, but unlike most that the crab was used to seeing and trading. The wood of its handle was different, both in color and texture, and the steel of the blade had clearly been worked in a manner different from conventional human smithing, its surface covered in engraved patterns that took him a mont to recognize.
It was an orcish weapon.
Rembering he did not have a monocle the last—and only—ti he had t the mayor, Balthazar discreetly equipped the lens over his eye and inspected the two n across from him.
[Tax Inspector - Level 15]
[Warrior Mayor - Level 45]
“I was wondering if you would show up!” Mayor Bergen said, still maintaining the sa booming volu as when he had entered the room.
“Uhm, yes,” Balthazar started hesitantly, still trying to read the mayor’s intentions, unsuccessfully. “I’m very busy these days, as I’m sure you can imagine, but I can always make so ti to co see your mayor… ness.”
“HA, HA!” exclaid the strongman, clapping his hands together with a tallic clang. “Yes, yes… Very busy, so I hear. That’s exactly why I summoned you here to see .”
Bergen tapped Abernathy on the arm with the back of his hand—nearly knocking him over—and gestured toward Madeleine with a tilt of his head.
“Ahem, right, very well,” the mayor’s right-hand man said, stepping toward the baker. “Ms. Madeleine, please, let’s give the mayor and Mr. Balthazar room to discuss matters. If it pleases you, I’d be happy to give you a tour of our town hall’s winter garden while we discuss an order of baked goodies I would like to place, assuming you can keep it just between us. My wife would absolutely not approve of consuming sugary treats, for my own health, but even a tax inspector needs to break a rule now and then.”
Balthazar’s eyestalks followed them as the two exited the main hall, chatting and leaving him all alone with the burly mayor.
“Your grandmother, Margaret, how is she?” said Abernathy as they were crossing a side door. “I still rember being a young lad running down her street every morning and seeing her leaning out the window, waiting for that adventurer to return…”
Their voices faded away as the door closed behind them with a quiet click.
And then a booming shout made the crab jump in place and his eyestalks snap forward.
“Right!” Mayor Bergen said, rolling his shoulders. “It’s just us, n, now.”
Balthazar dry swallowed as the shadow of the large man lood over him, fists pressed against his wide waist and broad chest puffed out, in a stance that resembled the one from the statue outside, except much more… robust.
“Sooo…” said the rchant. “Why did you wish to see , Mayor Bergen? Is it… business?”
The burly man grinned down at him and gave the crab’s back a firm pat.
“You could say so. Co, I was about to have my morning battleaxe practice. Join while we have our… chat.”
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