Merchant Crab-Chapter 273: Fright Stage

Everyone present in the hall started shuffling around the banquet tables, finding their seats, and Balthazar noticed the waitresses, and even the harp player making their ways to the exits, leaving just the nobles, merchants, and other important people in the room.

And also a crab.

“Balthazar,” Olivia called in a half whisper. “Over here. We got you a seat.”

The crab skittered around the table to find a wooden stool between the girl’s chair and Tristan’s seat.

“Thanks,” the crustacean said, awkwardly adjusting himself onto the seat.

It wasn’t as good as the special stool John had made for him back at the bazaar, but it would do.

Mayor Bergen took his spot at the end of the hall, sitting on his imposing chair, with a large table in front of it all to himself.

Seeing all the plates with delicacies, platters containing large roasted meats, trays with colorful vegetables, bowls full of mashed potatoes, and pitchers filled with wine on his table, the crab found himself impressed—for once, he felt he was in the presence of someone with an appetite that rivalled his own.

Despite the cold night outside, the hall was warm, filled with the heat of the large rectangular fire pit at its center and from the presence of a few dozen people drinking and eating merrily.

Feeling the inside of his shell getting steamy, Balthazar removed his winter hat before scooting closer to the table.

“Look at you, a crab with table manners,” Olivia said, looking at him with an amused smile.

The merchant gave her a puzzled stare in return before noticing movement behind her chair.

Suze was crouched behind the other girl’s seat, her cheeks full like a squirrel collecting nuts as she chewed quietly, one hand reaching slowly forward to the table.

“Shhh,” she mouthed to the crab while picking a golden grape from a bowl. “Steeeeealth.”

Balthazar glanced back at Olivia.

“Yeah, don’t worry. I know she’s there,” the older girl said, rolling her eyes.

The sound of Abernathy clearing his throat brought everyone’s attention back to the town official, who was still standing on the raised platform next to the mayor’s chair.

“Now that everyone who isn’t part of this meeting has left the room,” he said, “let us begin the procedures properly. First, and according to the official charter of the Merchants Guild, page 22, section 14, paragraph 3…”

The taxman proceeded to drone on about rules, laws, regulations, edicts, as well as several instructions, requirements, protocols, and even a few tenets—all of which the crab immediately tuned out as his eyestalks wandered off to gaze around the room.

Mayor Bergen appeared to share the merchant’s disinterest in his right-hand man’s speech, as he seemed far more invested in breaking apart a second drumstick from the roasted chicken in front of him. The scene felt somewhat gruesome to watch, but given the fact it was a bird sitting on that plate, Balthazar found he could overlook that.

All around the room, the crab could see nobles enjoying their meals, some vaguely paying attention to Abernathy’s speech, others chewing away without much care for what was being said. What they all had in common, however, was a glass full of that sweet liquor in front of them—all of them except Tristan, for obvious reasons, and no doubt under specific instructions from the mayor.

Whatever that liquor was, it was incredibly popular with those rich snoots, and the crab would have to try to find where they had gotten it from, so he could get his pincers on some bottles for his bazaar too.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Sitting on the table across the hall from him, Balthazar spotted Ambrose, the town’s leading alchemist, smiling and waving enthusiastically at him. The old man was clearly still looking forward to bombarding the crab with questions after the meeting, and Balthazar was looking forward to scampering out of there before he had a chance.

As his eyes finished scanning the hall and landed on Tristan sitting to his right, the crab realized how pale and nervous he looked.

“You’re alright there?” Balthazar asked.

“Yes,” Tristan replied, without taking his eyes off Abernathy, who was still rambling on about charters and policies. “I think I am. I’m going to be called to speak after this, since there’s no one else making a bid for the position, and it’s just now hitting me how long it’s been since I’ve done any public speaking.”

“Speaking of which,” the crab said. “How come no one else wants to be guildmaster?”

“Well, it’s a mixture of reasons,” Tristan explained. “Some believe the position is now cursed or ‘tainted’ after Antoine, and don’t want to risk their reputations with it. Others simply have no interest in the extra amount of work that comes with the job, especially when they’re already content with being rich and influential without any of the responsibility.”

Balthazar paused and thought for a moment. “And why do you want the job?”

The graying man gave a half shrug.

“It’s something I’ve just always wanted since I was a young trader, I guess? I’ve always felt at my best when conversing with others—talking, making deals, finding ways to reach an agreement that left all parties happy with what they were getting out of it. Being guildmaster just felt like the most obvious way to do a lot of that.”

The crab nodded as he listened to his partner. While he couldn’t fully relate or agree with everything he was saying, the crab found he could still respect it. Some merchants enjoy the social aspects, others are in it for the shinies. To each their own.

“You got this!” Suze whispered from behind Olivia’s chair, her cheeks rosy as she smiled and gave the aspiring guildmaster a thumbs up while popping another grape into her mouth.

Tristan looked over Balthazar’s shell, appearing surprised to see the little girl there.

“Oh! Thank you, Ms. Suze!”

“Mr. Tristan,” Abernathy’s voice called, sounding stern. “I’ve called you twice now.”

“Oh! Right! My apologies!” the frazzled merchant said, getting up from his seat fast and nearly knocking over the cup of the noble beside him.

Running a hand over his sleeked back hair, the frazzled trader made his way to the empty spot between all the banquet tables and in front of the mayor’s seat.

Abernathy sat down on the chair to Bergen’s right and the room went quiet, only the sounds of lips smacking and throats swallowing breaking the silence as everyone turned their focus to the nervous man standing in front of them.

“Come on, you got this, Tristan,” Balthazar murmured under his breath, pincers tapping impatiently on the wooden surface of the table in front of him.

“Goo—Ahem—Good mor—I mean, good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” the crab’s associate said, his voice cracking slightly.

An awkward silence followed while Tristan looked around the room, as if searching for the words he had dropped.

A few sighs and uncomfortable dragging of chairs echoed around the hall as everyone waited for the candidate to carry on with his speech.

“Right,” Tristan said, nervously clearing his throat a few times. “I… I had a… I mean, I have a…”

Looking more and more jittery with each passing moment, the merchant suddenly reached into his vest to retrieve a couple of folded pages of parchment.

“Oh, no, no, no, Tristan,” Balthazar muttered to himself. “Don’t pull out the notes!”

“I had a few words prepared,” said the now sweating man. “If you’d allow me just—”

“Ahem,” a woman in a lavish yellow dress said from a nearby table. “Perhaps we could address another subject while Mr. Tristan organizes himself? I suggest we invite the merchant crab to take the floor.”

“Yes, hear, hear!” another nobleman from a different table exclaimed, raising his tankard. “Let us hear from the crustacean!”

Murmuring and nodding began to spread around the room as everyone present expressed their agreement.

“Indeed, let Mr. Balthazar take the stage!”

“I’m curious to learn more about him!”

“Perhaps he could tell us more about how he spread his business so far and wide in such a short amount of time!”

“Let the crab speak!”

Balthazar glanced over at Tristan, who was looking around the room with a disheartened expression, papers still held in his hands.

“Ahem, right,” said Abernathy, standing up from his chair to address the rowdy crowd. “Let us perhaps give Mr. Tristan a moment to collect himself then, and in the meantime we could address Mr. Balthazar.”

Ah, crabapples… The crab though. 𝒻𝑟𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝑛𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮

Seeing his business partner moving back to the table with his head down, Balthazar hopped off the stool and skittered in his direction.

“Don’t worry, pal, I got this,” he whispered while passing the deflated man. “I’ll soften them up for you.”