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Cardisoma gigas, also commonly known as a giant crab, or simply Balthazar to his friends.

This magnificent specimen, with his shiny gray carapace and impressive pincers, was quite unique. For not only was he a talking crustacean, but also a merchant. Even more unusual for a crab, he was also gifted with a variety of friends.

Three of those friends came along on the road with him on that particular morning: Rye, Druma, and Blue.

As Balthazar walked up the road to the neighboring town, his shell filled up with questions, doubts, and worries. Despite having lived right next to it his whole life, this would be his first time visiting that place. Or any place outside his pond, for that matter. Everything felt new, exciting… and also a little scary.

He was now a crab on the road, looking for a baker, but his journey had started long ago, when he was a crab next to a road, looking for a baker.

To the untrained eye, it might seem like nothing much had changed, but that could not be furthest from the truth.

Everything had changed.

He now had friends, a family, even. He had purpose, plans that went beyond the next nap under the sun. Not only that, but he had found people and things he cared about, beyond just his collection of shiny stuff.

He had learned that sometimes you only value something after you lose it.

And it all started when the curious crab decided to touch a strange scroll.

***

On that fateful day, anyone who might have been watching that unassuming pond in the middle of nowhere, next to an old road leading to who knows where, could not be faulted for missing its main inhabitant’s presence, half buried under the sand and water, casually bubbling away as he sunbathed.

Balthazar, the biggest crab in that pond. And also the only one, making him the winner of that competition by default. Which was fine by him, because he liked it that way. No one else around, other than the tiny fish in the water, but they were neither friends nor competitors, merely his next meal whenever the crab felt peckish.

The proud crustacean also had visitors now and then, but none of them were ever invited guests, because if there was something Balthazar did not want, it was someone disturbing his peace and quiet.

Birds were one such type of visitor, and they most certainly did not care for the crab’s wishes of solitude. Loud, messy, and irritating, Balthazar detested them with great fervor. Especially when they would swoop down and steal his food, or even worse, soil his impeccable shell right after he was done shining it.

The other type were humans. More precisely, adventurers. Also loud, often messy as well, and almost as irritating, this unique type of biped seemed to always be in a hurry to get to their next destination in order to do… something. What exactly, the crab did not know or care to find out, so long as they’d do it far away from his home. And for the most part, they usually did.

Yet still, every so often, there would be those who’d stick their nose into the crab’s little slice of heaven, as if looking for something to do or loot. Most would quickly leave once they concluded there was no treasure to take or monster to slay, but sometimes there would be one who’d test Balthazar’s patience.

That day had been one of those times.

Down the road came a man, huffing and puffing, with his loot bag bursting at the seams. At first, the crab tried paying him no mind, but then the callous human did the one thing sure to set any peaceful crustacean off: he stepped on the half buried crab as if he was just a stone on his path.

In crab culture, this is considered a grave disrespect.

So, naturally, as any proper crustacean would, he responded with a swift pinch.

What followed, as any of Balthazar’s attorneys would remind you (had he any, which he doesn’t, because he’s definitely innocent), was entirely the human’s fault.

With the loot came the fall, as the extreme weight on his shoulders threw the adventurer off balance once he felt the snapping claw of karma wrap around his ankle.

“Well, serves him right!” declared Balthazar, as he let go of the man’s leg.

With his head meeting the rocks below, that one adventurer’s days questing and looting were over, leaving behind a mess of random items scattered all over the crab’s home, spilled from the stuffed pack.

Among them was one that caught the innocent crab’s eye: a rolled up scroll with a peculiar appeal to it.

Ever the curious one, Balthazar dared touch it, and with a fright, his entire life would never be the same again.

A mysterious system, strange stats, skills and levels, everything came barreling through the crab’s life like a speeding truck, and he did not even know what a truck was!

Soon enough Balthazar found himself cleaning up not one, but two dead adventurers off his front door, because for some odd reason those bothersome dunces could not stop dying all over his property, and what was worse, the strange new system in the crab’s eyes insisted on crediting him for the deaths.

On the bright side, they were leaving behind all manner of interesting trinkets and baubles, none more captivating to the crab than the ones he would come to know as coins. Shiny and golden, their glint appealed to the creature on a spiritual level. He loved and coveted them. A deep urge compelled him to acquire more of the beautiful circular things.

But that would not be the crab’s only source of desire for long, for soon after Balthazar had his first taste of something that would forever change his view of the world: pie.

Sweet and delicious, the heavenly meal was also the very first time the crab traded something with humans, as he let go of a useless greatsword with a magical glow in exchange for a slice of two days old pie.

An excellent deal he would forever remember fondly as one of his finest.

This seemingly small action would lead to a chain of events that changed not only Balthazar’s life, but the life of many more in his world.

With the newly found goals in life of acquiring precious coin and delicious pie, the clever crustacean put in motion the plan of starting a mercantile business from his backyard, trading all the random junk he got from those silly adventurers to other equally silly adventurers at a profit, all while using that as a way to find the one he had learned could create the elusive pastries he so desired: a baker.

With the aid of his new accessory, a fancy monocle he had retrieved—and definitely not looted—from one of the fallen adventurers, which allowed him to inspect and see information on both items and other beings, Balthazar carried on building his pile of junk and treasure.

Soon enough the merchant met Rye, a young archer adventurer, who involuntarily volunteered by the crab’s decree to go to the nearby town of Ardville and find the maker of pies.

For you see, despite Balthazar’s ardent desire for pies, he still firmly believed that going out into the world was for suckers, as clearly shown by all those foolish adventurers he’d watch all day. The smart ones, like him, knew it best to just stay in your turf, your comfort zone, and have the world come to you, on your terms.

And so it was, the baker came down to the pond, and Balthazar finally met the one responsible for the mouth-watering delicacy he had been dreaming about since that first day: Madeleine.

Like butter on one of her pans, the young girl slowly softened up the hard-shelled crab with her sweet personality and equally sweet pastries, as he began seeing that perhaps not all humans were complete nuisances.

With coin in his pocket and pie in his stomach, things were going smoothly for the aspiring merchant, but he was still alone as the sole resident of that pond and its expanding stock of adventurer junk. Not that he would ever admit to that being a problem, not back then, at least. No, solitude suited him just fine.

But a helping hand or two with all the hard work around the place sure would come in handy. Especially considering that was the one thing he lacked: hands.

Enter the goblin. Not a foul, nasty goblin throwing rocks off the cliffs above the pond, like the ones Balthazar was used to seeing sometimes. Or even a lone goblin that came willingly through the road. No, this goblin was not on the crab’s doorstep out of his own will, nor was he there to be hostile. This goblin, small, frail, and scared, came along with an adventurer. Not an aloof and goofy adventurer like all the others, this one was worse, much worse. A dark mage with silver in his hair and malice in his eyes, the human had captured the goblin and enslaved him with a magical collar, making the creature his pack mule to carry his loot.

Balthazar had always cared little for anyone who wasn’t himself—in great part because there had never been anyone else but himself in his life—but seeing the small creature in that sorry state, the hurt in his eyes, and the cruelty of someone who’d inflict it on someone else, it compelled the crab to do something about it.

Were he one of those reckless adventurers, always thinking themselves the heroes, this would have been the part where he’d put his claws up and gotten into an honorable duel with the dark mage.

And he would have likely been a dead crab.

Thankfully, the merchant was a shrewd businesscrab, and with a few waggles of his tongue he soon convinced the mage to trade him the goblin in exchange for some old spell tome the crab had no use for.

“Crab free Druma from evil man,” the goblin said while devouring the beef jerky the merchant offered him. “If crab give Druma meat, Druma follow crab now.”

And just like that, the crab found himself one loyal assistant called Druma, and the small goblin who was too weak to remain in his tribe found a new home with the merchant, and soon after, all the meat pies he could eat from the baker.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Not all would be sunshine and pastries, however, as more fiends would soon cross paths with Balthazar. None likely as despicable as the merchant master of Ardville, Antoine.

The irritating little man and his irritating little pencil mustache came strolling down the road one day. Pompous and with his nose held high, the local merchant presented himself to the crab, who could tell from afar what kind of nuisance was coming his way.

“I am Antoine, and as you must know by now, I am the largest trader of goods in Ardville, owner of Antoine’s Emporium, as well as the local master of the Merchant’s Guild.”

“Never heard of you,” Balthazar casually said, much to the man’s ire.

The back and forth continued as Antoine attempted to intimidate the crab, while Balthazar kept on greatly enjoying frustrating the arrogant merchant.

“I assure you, if you ever were to visit the emporium in town, you’d understand how none of… this can really compare to a proper fine establishment. Not that the guardsmen would ever allow you through the gates, of course. Any unpleasant creatures attempting to enter the city would promptly be dealt with.”

“Oh no, how will you ever go back home now,” Balthazar said, in his most casual and in no way sarcastic tone.

After being thoroughly served by the crustacean, the begrudging guildmaster eventually left, but not without ill intentions, and as the crab would soon learn, Antoine was going to be a major pain in the shell.

Thankfully, Balthazar would not have to face all those adversities alone, as his group of close friends continued to grow and become stronger. One could even say, as strong as stone.

As used to seeing weird adventurers every day as the crab was, one particular old man still managed to stand out as one of the strangest to ever visit his pond. The elderly man was a wizard, and as Balthazar would only much later on learn, his name was Tweedus.

Highly energetic and quite outspoken, Tweedus did not seem to play with a full deck, and yet the crab could tell the loony old man had power like no other adventurer he had met before.

After much rambling and shouting, the wizard departed just like he had arrived, out of thin air, leaving the crab two mana potions lighter, but one Golem Core richer.

At first, Balthazar was unsure what to do with the strange artifact, but after some pondering and book reading—a habit the crab had recently picked up and grown quite fond of—he set out to try using the odd orb on a boulder near the water.

This was no ordinary old rock, however. This boulder was Balthazar’s favorite spot in the whole wide world (which is to say, the pond and its immediate surroundings). Growing up, the crab had elected it the perfect spot to rest on while sunbathing, and alone as he always was, the small crustacean had developed a habit of telling the lifeless hunk of mineral all about his day and his most inner thoughts.

The boulder had been his pretend best friend growing up, and soon it would become his real best friend.

With great focus and fond memories put into it, Balthazar infused the core into the rock, and with a rumble, a golem rose from the earth, formed by the stone and bound to the crab by friendship.

His name was Bouldy, and he always said everything he needed through the single word he knew: “Friend.”

With a goblin and a golem by his side, Balthazar had a party going. There was just one more member missing. One the merchant did not expect to come into his life, but as is often the case with these things, a surprise child just happens.

Not that the charismatic crab was out there courting lady crabs and getting up to some certain type of action, no, his only love interests were the coins hidden beneath his sleeping spot. This child was not a baby crab, but rather a baby drake.

Hatched from a petrified egg Balthazar purchased off a wandering adventurer, Blue, as he would come to name her due to her magnificent blue scales and his lack of creativity at naming things, was a small drakeling, barely larger than a rabbit the day she was born, who quickly grew in both size and attitude.

Unlike with his two previous companions, Balthazar found himself having a much harder time getting along with his young ward. Perhaps unprepared to be a parental figure, or maybe just not used to dealing with someone as stubborn as him, their relationship started difficult and only after much headbutting and a little help from a wisely loony old wizard did they begin making progress through one of the surest ways to form a bond: a shared dislike for others they find displeasing.

Little by little, the crab kept on earning the proud drake’s respect, just as he continued to earn a reputation with adventurers all around the land.

But with fame also comes trouble.

There was Rob, the thief who tried to steal from the crab, and ended up receiving the harshest of punishments for it. Not the pinched hand when caught in the act, mind you, but the punishment of having to have to work for the crustacean. Truly a heavy sentence, but one the cowardly human who always appears hiding in a disguise bush eventually grew accustomed to, as he found that perhaps thieving wasn’t his real vocation.

Then there was Velvet, the enthralling witch that managed to make the crab flustered with her advances. Whether she truly sees the crab as a good catch or if the only thing she wants to catch are his legs for her cauldron, nobody really knows, but after nearly falling in her clutches, Balthazar wants nothing more than distance from the black-clad woman. Unfortunately for him, she does not seem like the type to give up easily.

And if the crab did not already have enough non-pastries on his plate, even a group of mercenaries hired by Antoine came into the crab’s pond to frame him for dealing in stolen goods, with the whole debacle eventually turning into an attempt on the merchant’s life. What they did not account for was a loyal goblin and a powerful golem to get in their way, and Balthazar came out of it all with his reputation as spotless as his new golden shell.

A golden shell that he got through an imbuing skill obtained from the strange system and its level ups, as the crab continued to gain experience not through monster slaying or questing like all those foolish adventurers out in the world, but by staying home and trading as he finally found the one class that suited him: Merchant.

Annoying as its quirks often were, it was still hard even for the crab to deny how useful some of the system’s perks were.

A golden carapace increasing his charisma attribute, a silver pincer that gifted him with increased dexterity, and an iron claw that could crush things with great ease were just a few of the things Balthazar had gained in just a few weeks, along with the gift of speech, the ability to read, and so many other amazing things his past crab self would have never dreamed possible.

As his levels increased and his business grew, the crustacean’s mind opened to the world of possibilities out there. What it did not open to was the possibility to explore that vast world.

Stubborn as always, Balthazar still refused to set foot outside his comfortable territory, and while he continued to find ways to prosper as a merchant without ever leaving his trading post, sooner or later something would happen that would force a choice on the crab.

That came the day tragedy struck his little corner of paradise.

Ever the skeptic, Balthazar had continuously refused to acknowledge the oddities that seemed to happen around him. First they seemed like pure coincidence, but over time it became apparent that far too often, things the crab simply made up as high tales to gullible adventurers would mysteriously turn out true.

Almost as if the crab had some strange influence over the world around him…

That unrecognized power proved dangerous the day a pack of wolves came prowling into the crab’s lands, and in the battle, his loyal goblin assistant became gravely wounded.

At a loss for what to do, Balthazar scrambled for something or someone that could help his friend as the sickness spread, but there was no one to turn to, out there, all alone in the middle of his lonesome domain.

The crab would have to go out and find help himself.

Finally, reality came crashing down on the proud crab: he had not refused to leave his pond all that time out of his own stubborn will, he had never left because he was simply unable to.

His legs firmly stuck in place as if frozen, Balthazar was filled with a sense of dread and impending doom that kept him from leaving his pond’s area, even if to help his suffering friend Druma as he battled for his life back home.

He knew it was no regular fear or phobia, there was something more at play there. The system, the ever-present and frustrating system that had given him so much, was also responsible for many restrictions. Not only on the crab, but on the other locals and even adventurers of that world.

Luckily for him—and especially the goblin—aid came from where he least expected: the orcs, who brought their wise shaman to the pond.

Indeed, the world was not just made up of crabs and humans, there were other races, some even nearly as intelligent as a crustacean, if one can believe such myths.

Unsurprisingly, not all of them possess the same charm as Balthazar, which meant they were not well seen by the humans, and often were hunted by adventurers.

Truly the savage races.

The humans, that is.

Orcs, for example, were quite civilized, as it turns out.

It was with great surprise that Balthazar first met a talking skeleton with a funny bone. Cheerful and fond of cracking jokes and joints, Tom was also a merchant, although a very different kind compared to the crab.

“Ah, fiddlesticks!” said the skeleton after having stumbled upon the crab’s trading post on a gloomy night. “I got lost again, didn’t I? Wait, did you say trading post? There’s a trader around these parts?”

“Of course there is. It’s me!” said our crustacean.

“I’m a trader too!” said Tom, pointing a bony fingertip at his own smiling skull.

“A merchant skeleton?” an incredulous Balthazar asked. “You can’t be serious?”

“That’s rich, coming from a talking crab who also fancies himself a merchant!”

The emissary of a nearby dungeon, the undead merchant was tasked with skulking through the night, visiting other non-humans communities, selling off the items that unlucky adventurers would leave behind in their halls, usually after also leaving their own lives during a foolish bid for more loot that sat across a very obvious spike trap or poison-filled moat.

Game recognizes game, or whatever some adventurers were fond of saying sometimes, and the crab could relate to the art of turning the junk adventurers shed on the daily into a profit, and since the skeleton was hardly competition to him, they agreed to set on a mutually beneficial business relationship, which in time turned into a fond friendship.

And with that door wide open, it was a matter of time until Balthazar established contacts with other races.

Such as the orc tribe, in the form of their chieftain Khargol, and later the lizardfolk, through their envoy, Jorg’ath.

After some initial tension and the crab’s usual social awkwardness, they all came to respect one another, and alliances were formed.

The modest crab that started with a tarp on the ground next to the road had quickly grown into a mercantile giant, and his place of work needed to match his status. Lovely as that home was, it was not the most suitable place to do his business. Not when his business was making gold.

And thus, John the carpenter arrived at Balthazar’s trading post.

A local from Ardville, the semi-retired craftsman proved wise enough to instill some reason into the crab’s shell, as well as great curiosity as to how in the world the old man was building and upgrading the crab’s abode so quickly and without him ever seeing any of the actual work.

A mystery still not fully unwrapped, the pipe-smoking human came to be yet another figure Balthazar respected enough to bring around whenever he needed his mastery.

However, not all old humans that came around the merchant’s place would be as well received as the carpenter, for there was one the crab feared. One truly abominable being that represented what Balthazar could not even conceive in his worst nightmares: taxes.

Abernathy, the taxman from Ardville, came down to the crab’s pond one dark day, tipped off by Antoine in one of his dirtiest plots.

In a fright and sweating through the pores he did not even have, Balthazar shook in his shell, suddenly faced with someone inspecting his business and earnings up close, and threatening to take a chunk of them away.

The bane of every merchant, the spine-chilling taxman was a stiff, uncompromising, and sharp figure, but Balthazar was not one to throw in the towel so easily. Not only because he was no quitter, but because towels were valuable goods that you should always have around to sell, even if slightly used.

Soon the shrewd crab found this dangerous opponent’s weak spot, which happened to be not too dissimilar to his own: pastries.

With a sweet tooth that could overcome his better judgment, Abernathy quickly fell to taking Balthazar into his good graces for long enough to allow the crab to regroup and strategize.

As fate would have it, his fears had been for naught, as his dreaded opponent\'s power had one fatal flaw: territorial borders.

Bound by their own laws, the human was left disarmed on his second visit to the pond when the crab schooled him on geography and revealed to the taxman that the place where they stood did not, in fact, belong to Ardville, or anyone at all.

Not as terrible as the merchant initially thought, Abernathy honorably conceded to having been bested, and the two departed on better terms than the crab could have ever expected.

Balthazar was, as he always had been, his own boss, his own governor, and the owner of his own fate.

Or so he liked to think, but from a lady in ruby colors and a stranger in black rags, to a dragon with red scales and a mage with dark intentions, there was much yet to happen before Balthazar could finally take hold of his own fate and set out of his little pond.

And for it all to happen, the crab would have to get some answers from the mysterious scarlet enchantress…