Merchant Crab

Balthazar continued deeper into the ruins.

The corridor eventually opened into a stairwell that descended into darkness. Water had gathered up to the third step’s level, filling the passage entirely. The surface was still, save for the occasional drop falling from the ceiling and sending small ripples across the black water.

Sir Bartholomew sighed.

“Thus are we thwarted by one of thy greatest nemeses…”

Balthazar stopped at the edge of the stairs.

“Stairs?” he asked.

“Indeed. Perilous steps,” replied the barnacle.

Balthazar looked down at the flooded stairwell.

“Don’t count me out just yet.”

Bartholomew perked up. “I knew thou hadst a plan!”

The crab nodded. “The stairwell is flooded.”

“A most astute observation,” said the merchant’s chronicler.

“And you know what that means,” the crab continued.

Bartholomew paused.

“Thou shalt talk the water into parting for thee?”

“What?! No,” Balthazar said to the back of his shell. “I can swim.”

“Ah! Of course! Another of the many things crabs excel at!”

Balthazar ignored him and dove beneath the surface.

The darkness swallowed him as the feeling of cold from the water enveloped his carapace.

For a moment, he wondered whether the lantern would actually work underwater. The Trader had claimed it was immune to water, but that was rather different from saying it would continue producing light beneath it.

Yet, the strange yellow flame remained steady. In fact, it worked remarkably well.

A soft halo of golden light spread through the water, illuminating the stone walls several paces in every direction. Balthazar could see the stairs continuing downward before leveling out into a submerged passage.

Well, I’ll be… Balthazar thought. His wares do as advertised.

Balthazar pushed himself forward effortlessly with his legs and swimmerets.

The water wasn’t as cold as he’d expected. It was chilly, certainly, but nowhere near as bad as the freezing river he’d once fallen into back in Marquessa. But it was also far less pleasant than the waters of his beloved pond. No waters could compare to those.

The passage stretched farther than he expected.

For a human, it would have been a deadly journey. Swimming through a completely dark tunnel while holding one’s breath, with no idea how far the other end might be, was hardly an inviting prospect.

For Balthazar, it was mostly just bothersome, as he could breathe underwater.

After several minutes of moving through the flooded corridor, the ceiling began to rise. Balthazar swam upward and broke through the surface.

He pulled himself out of the water and shook himself, sending droplets scattering across the stone floor.

“Well, that was easy enough,” the merchant said while attaching the lantern back onto his backpack.

Sir Bartholomew cleared his throat.

“Easy, he says. After traversing an ancient submerged passage into the unknown depths of a forgotten ruin! A passage that may well have claimed countless lives!”

“Probably,” the merchant said with a shrug.

“A passage where death itself lurked beneath the surface!”

“Now you’re exaggerating a little, pal.”

The barnacle fell silent for a moment.

“Still impressive.”

Balthazar started walking into the room beyond the flooded passage. It was small and nearly empty. Only a skeleton sat slumped against one of the walls.

Balthazar stopped and looked at it.

The remains were dressed in what appeared to be old adventuring clothes. Most of the fabric had rotted away, leaving little more than scraps hanging from the bones.

There was no obvious weapon. No chest. No pile of gold. No mysterious artifact waiting conveniently beneath the skeleton.

Balthazar nodded approvingly. “Good.”

“Good?” asked Bartholomew, sounding confused.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

“No loot,” the crab said.

“I fail to see how that is cause for celebration.”

“It means I don’t have to search the pockets of a dead man,” Balthazar explained as he continued forward. “I have standards. Morals. Dignity.”

He passed the skeleton and suddenly stopped. His eyestalks slowly turned toward the skull.

There was a hat sitting on top of it.

It was beige, with a wide brim and four small ventilation holes around the crown. A thin cord was attached to either side, clearly designed to pass beneath the wearer’s chin.

Balthazar backed up a couple of steps.

The hat looked surprisingly well preserved.

“Noble host?” Sir Bartholomew said.

“I’m not going to search his pockets,” said the crab.

“I did not say thou wert.”

“I have standards.”

“Of course.”

Balthazar reached out and pinched the hat between his pincers.

“I still have morals. But part of those morals include knowing it would be wasteful to leave this here.”

“Indeed!” proclaimed the chronicler.

The crab lifted the hat and looked at it.

“After all… why not? Why shouldn’t I keep it?” he said. “If I can wear hats now, I might as well.”

Balthazar placed the piece of headgear on his shell.

After some careful adjusting, he managed to settle it between his eyestalks, the wide brim framing his face in a rather peculiar manner. The cord dangled beneath him before he pulled it tight, tying the knot under the front of his shell.

A familiar notification appeared in front of his eyes.

[Explorer’s Hat]

[Equipment - Headgear]

[+1 protection from rain]

[+1 protection from mosquitoes]

Balthazar stared at the description for a moment.

“I’m cold-blooded and rain just rolls off me,” he said with a blank expression. “And I don’t have any skin for mosquitoes to bite.”

Balthazar sighed.

“So it’s useless.”

He turned toward the water behind him and looked down. His reflection stared back.

The crab tilted his shell slightly and the hat tilted with him.

Balthazar considered it for a moment.

“Hmm, at least it looks nice on me.”

“It was sitting on a skeleton’s head a moment ago,” Sir Bartholomew said.

“But not anymore,” Balthazar said. “So don’t make it weird, Bartholomew.”

“Very well, noble host.”

Balthazar resumed walking, leaving the skeleton behind.

The next chamber showed more signs of the explorers who had once passed through the ruins.

A small fire pit sat against one wall, though nothing remained of the fire except blackened stones and a few patches of soot. Several pieces of old clothing had been left scattered across the floor.

Another piece of paper rested beside them.

Balthazar picked up the page and stared at it. Then at the damp walls. Then back at the page.

“How is this paper still intact? This place is more moist than my gills after Madeleine brings me a fresh batch of pastries!”

“Perhaps parchment of exceptional quality,” said the barnacle.

“It’s just regular paper.”

“A miraculous mystery, then!”

Balthazar rolled his eyestalks as he unfolded it.

The handwriting was rougher than the first letter.

We lost Richardson.

We swam across the passage. We thought it would be simple enough, but it was much longer than we anticipated. He was always the slowest swimmer out of our group.

When we reached the other side we had almost run out of air and were a man down. After a moment, his body came up floating in the water.

We pulled him out, but it was too late.

We had to leave him behind. The water had soaked through our clothes, and we were beginning to freeze. We made a fire here and dried ourselves as best we could.

I will miss Richardson.

He always hated getting his clothes wet. I regret not taking his hat with us. It was his favorite, but it felt disrespectful to take something from him after he died.

Balthazar slowly lowered the page.

He glanced back toward the previous room where the skeleton was and then at the hat sitting comfortably between his eyestalks.

“If you ask me, leaving the guy’s favorite hat behind to gather dust and rot would be even more disrespectful.”

Bartholomew said nothing.

Balthazar stared at the page again.

“Who writes this?”

“What dost thou mean?” the barnacle asked.

“You nearly drown. Your friend dies. You barely make it out of the water. You’re freezing, so you have to start a fire…” He waved the letter. “And then you sit down and write all of this?”

Bartholomew considered it.

“Perhaps he wished to preserve the memory of his fallen comrade.”

“While in the middle of an unknown ruin full of dangers?!”

Balthazar folded the letter and placed it back where he’d found it.

“Humans make no sense sometimes.”

He looked around the room. The fire pit. The abandoned clothes. The letter. The skeleton.

It was becoming increasingly difficult to shake the feeling that everyone who had entered these ruins had eventually died.

“And I’m just strolling through here.”

“Thou art doing considerably better than they did.”

“Well, yeah. I’m a crab, not a human. Natural advantage.”

Balthazar moved on and stepped into the next corridor.

A thin strand of something brushed against his face and his entire body stiffened.

“Pthaw!” the crab spat as he recoiled. “Disgusting!”

Cobwebs clung to his shell and legs.

The merchant scrambled backward, brushing at them frantically with his claws.

“Get off! Get off!”

Bartholomew tried to remain dignified.

“Fear not, brave explorer! I shall warn thee of this vile arachnid menace if it dares approach thee from the rear!”

Balthazar tore another strand away and looked around.

There was no spider anywhere in sight, coming to check on its disturbed web.

“Pretty sure it’s gone,” the crab said. “Like everyone else in this place, apparently.”

“Fled before thy mighty presence!”

Balthazar continued deeper into the ruins as he brushed the last strands from his shell, not noticing the thin wire stretched across the floor.

One of his legs caught it, producing a click, and a mechanism snapped somewhere inside the wall.

Bartholomew’s voice came instantly.

“On your left!”

Balthazar spun.

Metal scraped against stone.

Then a blade swung violently from a hidden opening.

Straight toward him.