Merchant Crab-Chapter 285: Your Help

A sign by the entrance of the Halls of Semla told any adventurers looking to do some dungeon diving that today the floor was closed for maintenance due to a hazardous chocolate spill.

Inside, eight figures walked in a line through the halls. All the lights were turned on and the skeletons inside standing down from their dungeon duties. It was a quiet and solemn march toward the stairs leading down into the mines.

At least until the crab started chatting, because he got tired of the awkward silence.

“So, Khargol,” Balthazar said, skittering past Druma, Bouldy, and Blue in order to approach the orc. “How’s life been?”

“Life has been moderately good,” the stoic chieftain said plainly, eyes forward as he continued walking with arms crossed.

“Wow, a riveting conversationalist you are,” the merchant grumbled, before looking the orc up and down, examining his simple burlap clothes. “So, I can’t help but to notice you’re not wearing any armor. Laundry day back at the home camp?”

Khargol sniffled disapprovingly.

“It is frowned upon to wear more than what’s strictly necessary in battle during an elder’s trial. It shows cowardice to hide behind accessories. In the olden days of orcish tribes, proper armor was a rare luxury, only given to great chieftains and elders. Thus, it was tradition that a warrior would only be worthy of his own suit of armor after proving himself in battle without it.”

“Right, then,” the crab said quietly, deciding it would probably be a little too rude to point out how dumb that sounded to him, coming from a creature born with his own natural suit of armor.

After a moment, his eyes wandered to the big battleaxe the tusked warrior carried on his back. It seemed oddly familiar.

“That’s a nice axe you have there,” Balthazar said. “I don’t even recall ever seeing you using a weapon before, though. You’ve always been more of a fists type, right?” 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

The chieftain’s chest puffed out slightly.

“You misjudged me, crab. The axe has always been my weapon of choice since I was tall enough to wield it. But we orcs do not use our weapons unless the foe warrants it. My fists are plenty for the kind of scuffles you have seen me participate in.”

“Even against that arch-necromancer that one time?” the crab asked, one eyestalk raised higher than the other.

Khargol’s nostrils flared, and he let out a quiet snarl before speaking.

“Yes, even against that foul fiend,” the stern warrior said. “But I do not like to remember that day.”

“Ah… The dread aura he cast, right?” said Balthazar, nodding knowingly.

“Yes…” Khargol replied dryly.

The merchant spent a few more seconds admiring the upside down axe tightly strapped against the chieftain’s back when he finally realized why it seemed familiar.

The weapon was identical to the orcish battleaxe he had seen Mayor Bergen use, up in Ardville’s town hall.

“You like it?” Khargol asked, noticing the crab staring at his weapon through the corner of his eye.

“Uhm, yes, it’s… a finely-crafted piece,” Balthazar said hesitantly.

“Indeed,” said the orc. “It was forged by our tribe’s smiths the day I became chieftain after my father’s passing. It is a replica of his own weapon, the one he wielded during his chiefdom.”

“Oh,” said the crab. “What happened to the original?”

Khargol’s chiseled jaw tensed up slightly and Balthazar could see the muscles of his crossed arms tightening too.

“It was lost during his last battle. Against a human man.”

The crab gulped discreetly.

Didn’t Bergen say his battleaxe was a trophy after defeating an orc invasion on Ardville?

Curiosity was compelling him to ask Khargol how his father had passed away, but caution told him that was not the right place or time to risk a conflict of interests between two of his allies.

Ehh, better let sleeping orcs lie.

After another minute of walking, Balthazar let his pace slow down until he was next to the barbarian’s companion, Joshua.

“Scared?” the merchant asked, glancing at the scrawny boy carrying a huge backpack nearly as big as him.

“Oh, terrified!” the farmer said with an oddly enthusiastic grin.

“And you… like that?” Balthazar asked with a cocked eyestalk.

“Well, no… but at the same time… yes?” the human responded. “It’s complicated. I love the thrill, especially when compared to the dull life back at the farm. And when all is said and done, I know Thunk will not let any harm come my way, and that I will always be safe in her big, strong arms, like—”

“Alright, alright!” the crab quickly and loudly exclaimed. “You’re making me regret asking, kid. Anyway, speaking of the big hunk of a woman you travel with… where the hell did she go?”

Joshua stopped and looked around confused.

“Huh? She was walking right next to me a second ago.” He cupped his hands around his mouth before shouting. “Thunk? Where are you? Thun—Oh, for crying out loud, get out of there, Thunk!”

Balthazar followed the boy’s gaze as the entire group stopped to look across the halls, toward a fountain several paces away.

It was the whipped cream fountain the crab and friends had uncovered while first clearing the first floor of the dungeon.

And now there was a giggling barbarian frolicking inside it.

“Heh… Heheh… Splish, splash!” Thunk exclaimed, giddy with joy as she threw white foam up in the air and then opened her mouth as she let it fall on her.

“Hey!” a very miffed crustacean shouted, skittering toward the fountain’s base. “Get out of there! That’s private property, and you’re going to get barbarian sweat all over my sweet whipped cream!”

For about ten minutes, the crab and the farmer chased the giggling barbarian in circles around the fountain while the rest of the group watched in a fit of laughter—except for Khargol, who remained firmly stone-faced while watching the scene disapprovingly with his arms crossed.

Eventually, Thunk had enough fun (and sugar) and the group was able to continue.

“Alright, this is it,” Balthazar said as they reached the pillars framing the stairs down into the next floor.

The crab turned to his golem bodyguard.

“As we discussed, you have to stay up here, buddy. You’re way too big to fit through those tight tunnels.”

“Friend…” Bouldy said with a shrug, before sitting down on the floor next to the stairs.

“We will be back in no time, you’ll see,” the merchant said while turning to the rest of the group. “Right, then. Is everyone else good to go?”

After several affirmative nods and grunts, the remaining seven divers began their descent into the mines, the two-legged ones forming two lines using the steps, while the eight-legged merchant carefully climbed down the flat ramp portion.

Once they reached the bottom, it was still as dark as the previous time Balthazar had been there, but they had come prepared.

Each of the explorers lit their torches or lanterns, creating a halo of orange and yellow light that revealed the rough terrain.

Unlike the polished and clearly constructed halls of the floor above, this one was raw, the walls and ceiling full of rocky protrusion and jagged edges that cast long and haunting shadows under the light of their flames.

“Yep, this looks like a mine, alright,” the scared farm boy whispered, stepping closer to his barbarian. “A dark, terrifying, abandoned mine.”

Suddenly, Blue stretched her neck forward and narrowed her golden eyes toward the darkness of the tunnel ahead.

“Silence,” Khargol warned, raising a hand. “Something is approaching.”

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Everyone went quiet, the sound of the burning torches the only noise disturbing the silent and stale air around them.

Then Balthazar heard it—that same sound of meat slapping rapidly against the stone floor that he had heard the last time he descended those stairs.

“Uh-oh, here it comes,” he muttered to the others. “Get ready.”

Axe, hammer, shield and mace were drawn, along with a goblin’s staff and a drake’s claws.

Everyone was tense but ready for a fight.

Then, the crab saw it again, in the distance. Tiny at first, but growing bigger as it came closer.

[?????? - Level 40]

“Almost!” Balthazar said as he watched the line of text on his monocle about to reach the edge of the light.

A being emerged from the darkness.

The hell is that?!

The creature, smaller than even Druma, had pale orange skin—or rather smooth scales that almost looked like skin—and an angular head. It walked on two legs and was wearing some kind of tattered cloth wrapped around its body. In its hands it held a stick of dark wood, sharpened into a crude spear.

[Kobold - Level 40]

It opened its mouth and spoke in a raspy voice.

“Your help, we need.”

***

“Come on, I know she’s up to something!” Flint exclaimed in an outburst of frustration.

“Lower your tone,” Ruby said with calm authority, her gaze still peering through her red-tinted spectacles at a stack of report papers.

The two birdwatchers stood inside the leader’s tent in their temporary outpost in the Black Forest. Between them was a table covered in books, scrolls, and loose pieces of paper.

She won’t even look at me when I speak to her! The younger birdwatcher thought, anger bubbling up inside him.

He was sure of what he had just told the leader of their group—Amber was hiding something, and not being truthful in her reports about the bazaar she was meant to watch.

But Ruby was paying him no mind. Again.

Flint was sick and tired of it. He had joined the Birdwatchers because he wanted to uncover the secrets of Heartha. Not because of any “mission” or sense of duty, but because he saw it as a path to grow truly powerful, above all the other foolish adventurers.

He did his part, he followed his orders, he climbed the ranks and earned their trust to be sent out on his own missions. Yet, the damnable woman in red still refused to heed his word.

He just about had it with the enchantress’s lack of confidence in him.

“But I—” Flint paused and exhaled before continuing with a lower tone of voice. “But I’m telling you, I could see it in her eyes. Amber was definitely hiding something. She cannot be trusted.”

“Last I checked,” Ruby started, eyes still scanning the parchments, “your class is geomancer, not psychic, is it not? So, unless you have some actual evidence to present, I cannot just take your gut feelings as fact.”

Flint clenched his fists behind the stack of books in front of him, his knuckles turning white as he struggled to not let his anger show too much.

“I have been a birdwatcher for more than twice as long as Amber has, is my word not worth anything? I have never failed a mission or betrayed our cause. I’ve been exemplary in my duties. I was the one who brought you a map of the exact area around the mountain where no bird can fly! Why am I still not trusted?!”

The enchantress finally put the reports down, but her gaze still did not meet Flint’s, instead wandering up to the tent’s ceiling as if she was considering something.

“And your efforts have not gone unnoticed. If it wasn’t for your work, we’d likely still not fully understand why or how the birds are being kept unable to approach the crab’s territory. But… While Amber may be a novice next to you, she has always been fully dedicated to our mission, without question, without disobedience, without a single protest. I will not entertain even just the idea of distrust among our ranks based on a hunch.”

The geomancer was seething.

She’s playing favorites with the alchemist girl!

He could feel the tiny pieces of gravel of the forest floor beneath his feet vibrating in sync with his rage. He wanted to let loose, to make the ground flip the table between them to express his frustration.

But even in that state, Flint knew he couldn’t.

The enchantress was far higher level than him, and she commanded the loyalty of the entire group, including Jasper, whom Flint knew could take him out in a blink of an eye without even needing to draw his sword.

He could not let his temper get the best of him. At least not there, not with her.

“However,” Ruby said, her piercing eyes finally turning to his and making the hairs on the back of the younger adventurer’s neck stand up. “You are right that you have been with us for long, and have always been successful in the missions we have assigned to you.”

“So you will believe what I said about Amber being a turncoat?!” Flint exclaimed eagerly.

“No,” the woman in red replied dryly. “If you can prove it, we will act. But not without evidence of your claims first.”

“But—”

“I have not finished,” Ruby said firmly. “What I will do is let you in on a part of our plans that so far only a very select few of our most senior members have been privy to, about the crab and the dungeon.”

Flint’s jaw clenched and his eyes widened.

“The purple mist,” the geomancer said.

He had seen it, when Jasper first came out of the forest reeking of death. They had found something in its depths. Something dangerous.

And then, under Ruby’s orders, they did something one night, and it was gone. He went into that part of the forest the next day, looking to find out what it was, but all he found was a big empty hole on the dirt and the stench of rot.

“Exactly,” said the enchantress, crossing her arms behind her back. “Soon after we established our outpost here in order to observe the recently-emerged Semla Dungeon, we found a powerful being inside the Black Forest—a lich lord.”

“A lich?!” the incredulous adventurer repeated. “In this low-level area of the continent?!”

“Indeed,” the woman continued. “No doubt one of the many anomalous events caused by Balthazar’s unintentional meddling with the trappings of this world’s system. We considered disposing of it so as to ensure the safety of our outpost, but I’m a firm believer that one should not waste an opportunity when it presents itself. So, we arranged a plan to lure the lich into the dungeon, and down into the mines without direct confrontation.”

Flint frowned. “But… why? What for?”

“The purpose was twofold. By leading the lich away instead of attempting to confront it directly, we avoided the risk of some of our members falling victim to its powerful magic in the fight. And the other, more important part, was that it placed a dangerous obstacle in Balthazar’s way once he chose to go down toward the mountain’s core.”

The other adventurer’s brow furrowed even further. The more she explained, the more confused he felt.

“What for, though?” he asked. “I thought the whole point of us staying hidden here all these months was to watch and wait for the crab to keep pulling at the seams of the system and push through the dungeon’s defenses in order to unlock a clear path to the core for us. Why would we want to place more obstacles in his way?”

Ruby readjusted her golden-rimmed glasses and exhaled slowly.

“Strife, my young apprentice,” she said after a few seconds. “I have learned enough about this peculiar crab to know that he will not act on what we want him to unless he is pushed into it. If left alone, the creature will happily remain in his bazaar, by his pond, all day, every day, playing with coins and eating sweets. It is only when danger threatens his home and those around him that he acts. The lich serves the purpose of presenting a difficulty that needs to be overcome. What the crab will do to overcome that, I cannot tell yet, but I know that so far, every time he is pushed into action, something spectacular is revealed that gets us closer to getting real answers about this world.”

Flint took the enchanter’s words for a moment, staring emptily at the papers on the table.

“So the lich is meant to push the crab into having to defeat it, likely by leveling up and becoming more powerful?”

Ruby nodded.

“In a way. The point is that the more Balthazar is forced to face his unusual role in this whole complex web of mystery and unknowns, the more we get to learn about the system, and how to best pull at its seams. Additionally, the lich serves to prevent the crab and his companions from reaching the bottom too fast or easily. We want them to uncover the way to the core, because for whatever strange twist of fate, this odd creature seems to be the only one who can, but once the core is found, we need to be the ones to get our hands on it.”

“Have we really never managed to reach one?” asked the geomancer. “Not even your mentor, Amil?”

The woman shook her head slowly.

“No. It was his belief that those cores were primordial sources of power, used in the very creation of this world, like beating hearts of the land, and that acquiring one would either give us answers or enough power to get them. But to this day all we have found were fakes, dead ends, or empty spaces where a core used to be before the birds disappeared with it. So you understand why this is so important to us now?”

Flint fought to hold back a smile.

True power. Those cores, if they were like hearts of the world, would surely grant powers unimaginable to those who found them—exactly what he sought since joining the Birdwatchers.

“I do,” the geomancer muttered. “But the lich is not under our control, we just let it loose in those mines, right? What happens if the crab and company fail to defeat it?”

Ruby inhaled and stared out of the tent, toward the horizon in the distance.

“Then that will mean this was just another dead end, and that this crab was yet another anomaly that led to nothing, and we will have to continue our search some other way. If Balthazar truly is the real deal… a mere lich will not stop him.”

The other birdwatcher felt puzzled. He sensed there was more that the woman in red was not telling him, but he couldn’t even figure out what to ask exactly.

“But,” Ruby said after a few seconds of silence. “I told you all of this because I have a special assignment I need your help with.”

Flint’s eyebrows jumped with surprise. “You do?”

The enchantress gestured toward another, smaller table by a corner. On it were about half a dozen bottles filled with white, nearly transparent liquids.

“Take those with you,” she said. “They are stealth and invisibility potions. I want you to sneak into the dungeon, go to the passage into the mines, and find out what you can about what is happening there with the crab and his group. Do not engage anything or anyone, that’s an order. That’s what the potions are for. You are not strong enough for that area, so this is merely a scouting mission for you. Do you understand?”

After several more warnings and instructions, Flint stepped out of the tent grinding his teeth.

“Not strong enough,” he muttered under his breath while storing the potions in his satchel. “I’ll show her. I’ll show them all one day.”

A shuffling of leaves and a branch snapping coming from the trees next to the tent made the geomancer turn with an alarmed look on his face.

All he managed to catch was a glimpse of a head of short blonde hair wearing a straw hat disappearing past the foliage.

Amber!

His eyes narrowed. She had been listening to their conversation inside. She was spying.

The man turned to run back inside the tent, but as he pivoted and took the first step toward the entrance, he stopped.

“No…” Flint murmured to himself. “This time I’m doing things my way.”

And with that thought, the geomancer took off after the alchemist.