Merchant Crab-Chapter 276: Partners

“You insufferable… petulant… infuriating… creature,” Antoine said, each word thick with unfettered rancor.

Balthazar watched the mad merchant walk toward him not with fear or concern, but with measured relief.

The crab wasn’t afraid of the little mustached man. Why would he? He wasn’t before, when Antoine was still the guildmaster and a higher level than him, so he certainly wouldn’t be now, that he was just a crazy nobody with a grudge.

What Balthazar was afraid of was what he and his bodyguard could do to his friends.

That and the poison. That was a pressing concern too.

But for now, pulling the disgraced merchant’s attention away from the others was a small victory, as it would buy them time.

Time for what exactly, the crab wasn’t quite sure yet, but he was working on it.

“I have thought about you every single day since you got me thrown into prison, crab,” Antoine said, staring at his nemesis with derangement in his wide, unblinking eyes.

“Really?” Balthazar said with a hint of casual sarcasm as he cocked an eyestalk. “I hadn’t thought about you in months, Anthony.”

The corner of the other merchant’s upper lip twitched, twisting his pencil mustache slightly.

“Still acting clever, huh?” he said, grinding his teeth.

The crab shrugged.

“If it’s clever and it works, then it’s not stupid,” said the crustacean. “You know, unlike you.”

An involuntary scoff of annoyance escaped the former guildmaster’s throat as one of his eyelids twitched.

It felt too easy to get under Antoine’s skin, which the crab attributed to the flagrant weakness of soft flesh instead of tough chitin like his.

“You think yourself so smart, don’t you, crab?” the human said. “But I am more than you! Remember your encounter with that bone colossus down in that dungeon? It was me! It was my doing!”

“Uhh… Yeah, I kinda figured that already,” said Balthazar, rolling his eyes.

The left side of Antoine’s face twitched again, even more this time, like a persistent tic he could not control.

“And you got lucky with those hideous, accursed crab figurines of yours!” he said. “They should have been your downfall! It would have been… poetic! But once again, luck bailed you out!”

“Ehh… No, my awesome drake did,” the crab casually retorted. “Your nasty black snot stuff burned up real good in her pretty blue flames, though.”

“No more!” Antoine yelled. “This time I’ll personally make sure the job is finished.”

“You, doing a job yourself? Without a butler, waitress, or mercenary? Hah!” said Balthazar, trying to not let the pain climbing his body show.

“I will watch as you succumb to the poison, crab,” the vile man said. “And then I will find out what makes you tick.”

He leaned down to bring his ugly face to the same level as Balthazar, a grim grin stretched across his expression. As much as the crab wished he could give that ridiculous mustache of his a quick snip, the rigidity had already spread too far down his arms to let him move them.

“I will figure out what makes you so different, crab,” Antoine said, giving the glass of the crab’s monocle a tap with the tip of his fingertip.

“Eww, you smudged it,” said Balthazar, trying to recoil. 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

“I will have every wizard, witch, artificer, and even necromancer take you apart until I know why you of all creatures in this world would deserve to be gifted with the sight. To be given the privilege, the blessing, of seeing the system. You! A wild, mindless animal!”

The crab’s eyestalks stood up.

He knows about the system?!

“Ah, surprised, aren’t you?” the former guildmaster said, reading Balthazar’s expression. “Yes, I learned about your little secret. And after I’m through with you, I will be the one with the sight, as it always should have been!”

A girl’s whimper came from the nearby table.

“Suze?!” exclaimed the crab, trying to peek over the other merchant’s shoulder.

Antoine stood back up and looked past the table.

“Still making noises?” he said with a scoff, before looking toward his bodyguard. “Bruce! If the brat interrupts me again, silence her—permanently.”

The cross-armed mercenary scowled and let out a quiet grunt as he glanced over to where the girls and Tristan still were.

“You know,” Antoine said, turning back to face Balthazar. “My original plan was for everyone else in this hall to fall victim to the poison except for you, leaving you to be blamed for it all!”

The mad man started pacing from side to side.

Oh great, he’s monologuing…

“Alas, even the finest of schemes must sometimes adapt to changing circumstances. Watching you perish will still be satisfying enough, I suppose. A beast like you, I wouldn’t have expected you to drink from the liquor as well. In fact, if there is someone I’m surprised didn’t drink it is you… Tristan.”

The crab’s business partner, still cradling the poisoned girl while cowering under the presence of Antoine’s bodyguard, lifted his gaze from Suze at the mention of his name.

Holy pie! That’s right! Tristan is the only one not paralyzed! Balthazar thought, a flicker of hope igniting within him.

“I… I don’t do that anymore,” Tristan said as he watched his former partner approach him again. “I don’t drink anymore.”

The corrupted merchant threw his head back. “Hahaha! What a joke! But fine, maybe I’ll have Bruce over here force some of that poisoned liquor down your throat for my amusement.”

“Hey!” Balthazar shouted. “Leave him alone!”

Antoine glanced back at the crab. “Or what?”

The crab hesitated. He knew he was in no position to make threats, and even if he tried, they might make things worse for Tristan.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

So he decided to try a different angle.

“Come on, Antoine. Aren’t you the one who keeps talking about how great of a trader you are? You’re not a murderer. You’re a merchant! Act like one and let’s discuss this.”

The deranged man paused for a second, expressionless, before breaking into mad cackling.

“Hahahahahaha!”

[The Gift of the Crab: Ineffective]

Huh? Ineffective? It never said that before.

“You think your words will work on me? Antoine, the duke of merchants?! Never!”

Balthazar looked around the room. Barely anyone was moving anymore, only a few still struggling to turn their necks as their eyes watched the mad man who had poisoned them laugh, unable to look away.

Time was running out, and nothing seemed to work.

“Tristan, do something!” the eight-legged merchant yelled. “You’re the only one not poisoned!”

The panicked human looked between the crab, the other merchant, and the mercenary standing between him and the door, stress creasing his expression as his chin quivered.

“B-but what do I do?!”

“Nothing!” Antoine shouted. “You will do nothing, because that’s all you are good for! As you always were, and always will be, you pathetic excuse of a man!”

The former guildmaster stomped his feet quickly toward his old partner again, rage and madness dancing in his eyes.

“You were always an embarrassment of a business partner! I felt disgusted having to present myself next to you. You were nothing but a useful distraction.” He spread his arms open to point at everyone else in the room. “To keep all of these fools entertained while I bled them dry of their money and built my own empire. MINE! Never yours! I earned my way to the top! I was always meant to be the guildmaster, not you! I was always the brains, you were just nothing but the sad jester everyone laughed at!”

Tristan shrunk under his old business partner’s verbal onslaught, his expression progressing from fear, to shock, and finally, to just pure hurt.

Balthazar experienced his own range of emotions watching helplessly as the whole scene unfolded before him—anger, indignation, and above all, empathy for the man who once showed up at his pond drunk and at his lowest, only to become one of his most loyal allies.

Tristan hadn’t been just his business partner for a long time. He had earned his place as one of Balthazar’s friends.

And there he was, cowering, broken, feeling right back at rock bottom again, because of one spiteful little man.

A man who had once been his best friend.

Looking at Antoine, Balthazar realized he was seeing everything he wished to never become.

And he realized Tristan deserved better.

“Hey, Tristan!” the crab called, most of his body now fully paralyzed as his insides started feeling concerningly rigid too.

The anguished man raised his head to gaze at Balthazar, tears pooling in his eyes as a flood of years of abuse, humiliation, and bullying broke the fragile dam that had been holding them back in his mind.

“Why are you listening to this guy? This absolute loser!” the eight-legged merchant yelled. “You know damn well that all of his words come from envy.”

“Hah!” barked the corrupted merchant. “Me?! Envious of this pathetic drunk?”

“That’s right!” Balthazar retorted. “Antoine is such a loser that even when you’re drunk, you’re still more charismatic than him.”

Tristan’s frown twisted between emotions, one moment anguish, the next confusion.

“You were set up to fail,” the crab said. “Betrayed by your best friend. You didn’t fail on your own. You didn’t let yourself or anyone else down. He let you down, when he abused your trust to bring you down. Because Antoine couldn’t stand watching everyone liking you more than him. Your only fault was to trust too much in the wrong person. He never deserved you as his business partner!”

Antoine scoffed loudly. “Try all you want, crab, but your words aren’t enough to fix stupidity!”

Balthazar ignored him.

“Look at me, Tristan!”

The partially apathetic merchant focused his gaze back on the crab, his hands still visibly shaking as he continued sitting on the floor.

“You are not a failure,” Balthazar continued. “You stumbled, you fell, but you got back up. It took a long time, and you needed help to do it, but that doesn’t make you any lesser for it. It just means you have friends, that you have people who care about you—unlike him.”

[Motivational Crab activated!]

The words appeared in the paralyzed crustacean’s eyes, but he paid them little mind. There were more important things happening, and too little time to waste.

Antoine scoffed pompously again.

“Your words mean nothing!”

“Why do you think Antoine needed to set you up all those years ago?” said Balthazar. “Because he knew you were going to get by merit what he could only achieve through trickery. He’s nothing but a phony, envious of the real deal—you.”

Tristan’s breathing started stabilizing as he looked at the crab and tried to form words between his subsiding sobbing.

“You… You really mean that?”

“Mean it?!” the crab responded. “Tristan, you’re a damn good merchant. Almost as good as me, and you know I don’t say that lightly! I’ve watched you work, you’re a natural! When I couldn’t leave my pond and needed things taken care of here in Ardville, you stepped up to the task. Even while drunk out of your gourd! That’s how good you are at it! You made all those deals for me, all without fail. You helped me see the error of my ways with Henrietta when Antoine was trying to use her against me. You kicked your bad habits once someone gave you an opportunity. And even right now, you made it right back to the position of guildmaster after standing up from your lowest point. You have a lot more inner strength than you think, and I’m proud to have you by my side… partner.”

Tristan’s drifting gaze jumped back to meet Balthazar’s eyes after hearing that last word, and the crab could see a new line of tears forming in his eyes. But this time they were not tears of fear, panic, or hurt—they were tears of genuine joy.

“So stand up to this fake duke and tell him to go pound dirt!” the crab yelled with what little strength his body could still muster under the spreading effects of the poison.

Grabbing the edge of the table, Tristan brought himself back onto his feet and stood in front of Antoine with head held high.

“It will take more than the words of a stupid crab to make you be anything other than a sad, sorry drunkard who belongs in the gutter!” the malignant merchant spat with hateful disdain.

“No, Antoine,” Tristan said, a firmness in his voice that Balthazar had never heard before. “The words of that crab were exactly what I needed to hear. Because they were truer than any of yours ever were.”

The paralyzed crustacean watched through his monocle as the level 10 merchant grew in presence and spirit against the level 12 merchant, a newfound confidence shining in his eyes, as if decades of mental weight were lifting.

Antoine’s face twisted with more hatred as he took one step back, away from his former business partner and toward Bruce, who was still standing with arms crossed waiting for instructions.

“You will never amount to anything, Tristan!” the disgraced little man exclaimed. “You will always depend on others to prop you up, because on your own you are nothing!”

“That’s what you don’t get, Antoine,” the other merchant said while taking another step toward his former tormentor. “There’s nothing wrong with having others around you to help you fly higher. It’s you who never had anyone, who thought he never needed anyone, and instead had to backstab, steal, and cheat his way to the top. You wanted to get to the top, and all you did was get so low.”

Balthazar managed a smile despite his face being almost paralyzed. As always, his gut had been right, and he had chosen his business partner well.

Meanwhile, the former guildmaster’s face twitched angrily, and his chin quivered as if he wanted to retort, but words failed him.

“Look at yourself!” Tristan continued. “You’ve never met someone you didn’t lie, cheat, and ultimately betray while getting what you wanted. You’ve turned to poisoning an entire room of people while reveling on your own foul deed. What is wrong with you? You poisoned a child. A child! And you showed no shred of regret or guilt! When did you get this sick in the head? Can you honestly live with this in your conscience?”

Antoine stomped his foot angrily, in a manner that was more childish than intimidating.

“Enough! I will hear no more of your blabbering, you fool! You think your words hold any power over me?! You think you will sway me? Convince me?! Hah!”

Tristan stopped a couple of paces away from the man who had once been his friend and smiled.

“No, Antoine. I’m done caring about what you say or letting you step on me. It’s not you I’m trying to convince.”

The Duke took another step backward, his eyes widening in a mixture of madness, disbelief, and even a hint of fear, while his bodyguard uncrossed his arms.

“And by the way,” Tristan said. “Everybody always thought your mustache looks ridiculous.”

“Bruce!” Antoine yelled, pointing a finger forward. “Shut him up!”

A sharp and quick thwack echoed through the hall, followed by the dull thud of the merchant’s body hitting the floor.