Merchant Crab-Chapter 284: Some Assembly Required

“You want to… go into the dungeon too?” the bewildered crab asked, staring up at the cross-armed orc.

“That is what I said, yes,” Khargol replied dryly.

“Oh, boy…” Balthazar muttered under his breath.

Of all the inconveniences the merchant expected to have that day, a local orc showing up wanting to go into the dungeon when he was accompanied by adventurers was not one of them.

Revealing The Pie Council to the Merchants Guild and that he had dealings with other non-human races was a risky move, but a calculated one, done on the assumption that business interests would speak louder than prejudices. This, however, might be pushing it.

Adventurers and orcs didn’t tend to get along well.

Then again, since when did crabs and adventurers used to get along? Balthazar thought.

Maybe all it would take was some negotiation.

And a lot of persuasion.

The crab glanced back at the three humans present, looking to gauge their reactions to the arrival of Khargol and his two warrior-brothers.

Hannabeth had her back turned again, this time carefully examining a conch sitting on a nearby table.

Thunk was still standing by the counter, arms dropped like an ape, staring emptily at the crab and orc, and Balthazar could swear he heard a breeze pass straight through one of her ears and out the other.

The problem was the farm boy behind her…

“I-Is… Is that… that… an orc?!” Joshua blurted out after several stutters, one finger pointed at the chieftain.

“What?!” Hannabeth exclaimed, turning around and grabbing her mace from her waist. “Foul orcs besiege us?! Where?!”

“Nooo, heeey! Let’s all calm down!” the crab hurriedly said, skittering toward the paladin. “No orcs here, brave knight! Just my pal, uh… Khargol. He’s not from around these parts, and I guess our farmer friend here isn’t used to seeing people from other lands.”

“No,” the local boy said, eyes wide and face white as chalk as he continued pointing at the unamused chieftain. “I’ve heard the stories and descriptions all my life, that is definitely an o—”

“Hey, wheat muncher,” Balthazar muttered, rushing up to the young man and bringing his eyestalks right up to his face. “Are you trying to start a fight in my establishment?”

“Wha…” the confused boy started. “No! I—”

“Then stop pointing out the obvious to the oblivious knight. Yes, they are orcs, but they’re my guests, and so long as you don’t start trouble, Khargol is far more civilized than your kind gives them credit for. So act the same, and refrain from pointing your finger at my friends, will ya?”

Joshua stared dumbfounded at the merchant, then at the chieftain, and then back at the merchant.

“But… but… they’re orcs…”

“And I’m a crab! Pinch pinch! See how silly you sound complaining about their race to me? If you can get over the fact that you’re conversing with an eight-legged crustacean with pincers for hands, surely you can look over the greenish skin and big pair of tusks, right?”

The farmer frowned slightly, as if processing the logic he had just been presented with.

[The Gift of the Crab: Success]

“I… I guess you’re right,” Joshua murmured. “My Ma wouldn’t like me judging someone before getting to know them. And I’m sorry if I was unintentionally starting trouble in your bazaar, Mr. Balthazar. It won’t happen again. From now on I will refrain from mentioning Mr. Khargol’s… race.”

“Good lad!” said the crab, giving the boy an approving slap on the back with the side of his claw, much like he had learned from a certain neighboring mayor.

But Balthazar’s smile was quickly replaced by a gulp as he turned back around and saw Hannabeth standing right in front of Khargol, her visor a palm’s distance away from his collarbone.

“Salutations, good man!” the knight said from inside her metal can. “My, you sure are tall. And… grayish. Are you mayhaps suffering from some form of ailment? I could assis—”

“No,” Khargol said plainly, his bulging arms still crossed, and his gaze shooting daggers down at the paladin.

“Ah… Very well, then…” Hannabeth said, sounding slightly deflated.

Balthazar jumped in place as he saw the knight slowly lift her gaze, the tiny holes of her helmet’s visor pointing at the orc’s face.

“My, that is an interesting choice of helmet,” the adventurer said, looking at his jaw and bringing a hand up toward it. “They almost look like tus—”

“Do not touch me,” the chieftain warned sternly but without moving a muscle.

“Heh, alright, that’s enough introductions for now!” the crab hurriedly said, pushing himself between the knight and the orc. “Let’s not get too touchy—both of you.”

“Ah, my apologies, great warrior!” said Hannabeth. “That was indeed not very knightly of me, to violate your personal space like that.”

Balthazar led the orc away to a corner, while the knight wandered off again and seemed to find a new great interest in staring at a piece of blank parchment on a shelf.

“I do not like your allies,” the chieftain said.

“Lower your voice, will you?” said the crab. “They’re not the… brightest, yes, but they have the skills for what I want to do—or at least I hope they do. But never mind them, what are you doing here, my orcish friend? How come you want to go dive into some dark mines out of nowhere?”

Khargol uncrossed his arms and let out a long breath.

“Our mutual acquaintance, Tom, has told me about your dungeon, your plans, and about those mines below. I would like to join your… group, and help clear them of the dangers you claimed to have seen there.”

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Balthazar narrowed his eyes at the orc. “Yes, but why?”

This time, the green warrior let out a full sigh and closed his eyes for a moment, before opening them again and beginning his explanation.

“I am the chieftain of my tribe, but I am not an elder yet. My father was both, and I inherited chiefdom upon his passing, but the honor of being an elder cannot be given, it must be earned. There is a long and complex ritual to it all, which I will not burden you with, but I have reached both the age and enough years as chieftain to perform the trials to enter the circle of orcish elders.”

“Right,” said the merchant. “And where does my dungeon come into all of that?”

Khargol crossed his arms again before continuing.

“One of the trials requires the prospective elder to show bravery in battle along with humility to let himself be led before he can lead others. Meaning, he must seek out an ally heading into battle, and pledge his aid under that ally’s command. If the warrior proves his worth by surviving, if he proves he can work alongside others and not just above them, and prove he can listen to other’s commands and not just issue his own, he passes.”

“Oh…” Balthazar said. “So you want to go into the mines with us as your trial?”

“Indeed,” the orc replied. “The downside of peaceful times like these among the orcish tribes is that it becomes difficult to find an ally in need of help in battle. There are no wars being fought, not even skirmishes happening. So, after much seeking, your incursion into this dungeon seemed like the only option left.”

“Ah, great,” the crab said, placing the back of his pincers against the sides of his shell. “So you only came to me offering your aid because you were out of better options. Gee, thanks for the great honor.”

“I shall ignore your sarcasm and say you are welcome,” Khargol said, his expression as unmoving as stone.

Balthazar stared up at the orc with a disgruntled expression.

“What next, the lizardfolk show up wanting to go peep the mines too?”

“Unlikely,” said the chieftain. “The cold-blooded lizardfolk do not suffer the woes of winter well, and tend to remain in their bogs where it’s warmer until spring. I myself have not seen Jorg’ath since the first leaves began to fall months ago.”

“That was a joke!” the crab exclaimed, throwing his pincers up.

“I did not find it amusing,” the stoic orc stated.

“Urgh, never change, Khargol, you bundle of laughter,” the merchant grumbled. “Come on, let’s tell the others. And try to play nice, the last thing I need is to worry about infighting while we’re down there.”

“I may not like humans, but unlike them, I shall not let that get in the way of our mission, and my trial. You make sure they do the same.”

The crab and the orc approached the center of the bazaar again, where the others were waiting.

“Alright, fellas,” said Balthazar. “My friend Khargol here is going to join us in the mines! Khargol, this is Hannabeth, Thunk, and Joshua. There, introductions done, can we move on now?”

Thunk stood up and stepped in front of Khargol, both about the same size, and for a moment the merchant worried there would be trouble, but after looking him up and down, the barbarian put on a dumb smile.

“You strong?” she asked.

The orc’s gaze narrowed on the adventurer’s blue eyes.

“Shall we find out?”

“Hmm, that’s a good point,” Balthazar muttered, bringing his monocle up to his eye and examining the chieftain.

[Orc Chieftain - Level 25]

Dang it. The fact that locals can’t level up like adventurers is starting to be a real drag. The crab thought.

“Hey, uh, Khargol?” Balthazar started hesitantly. “Are you sure you’re up for this? Those mines seem to be inhabited by some really… high-level dangers, and I wouldn’t want you to bite more than you can chew.”

The orc raised a halting hand.

“Do not worry about my well-being. I am more than capable of holding my own in a fight, even against overwhelming odds. I have my own ways of evening them if it comes to that. And if I cannot, and I perish in those mines, then that just means I was not elder material. Better a death in an honorable battle than a life lived in fear of finding your own limits.”

“Thunk like this one,” the barbarian said with a big grin. “You come and fight too!”

“Right… Because you're the one in charge,” Balthazar muttered.

As he glanced at her, his monocle displayed the adventurer’s level, and once again the crab had to wonder how she had leveled up so much since they had last met.

[Barbarian - Level 46]

“Say, farm boy, you never got around to finish telling me what you guys have been up to in the months since our mosquito debacle,” Balthazar said to the level 4 accompanying the big slab of human meat in front of him.

“Oh, you know…” Joshua started, scratching the back of his head and looking flustered. “We never really found my mule… or my goat… or all the other animals that kept escaping my family’s farm. Heh, I really should fix that hole in the fence some day, shouldn’t I? Haha… ha…”

“Riiiight…” said the crab. “I’m sure you will get around to it soon, won’t you?”

“Oh, yes! Once she gets around to escorting me back to my farm to complete her quest, it will be the first thing I’ll do!”

“Mhmm, yes, sure. Anyway, you were telling me about Thunk’s… adventures?”

“Oh, she made daggers,” the local boy said with a shrug.

Balthazar nodded along without thinking for a moment. “Right, right… Wait, what?”

“Iron daggers,” Joshua added. “A blacksmith in some small town we stopped at a few months ago convinced her to try her hand at smithing. Gave her some scrap iron and told her how to make a simple dagger for practice. Thunk said it made a funny ding sound in her head when she finished, so she… kept making them every day.” He paused and shrugged again. “For two months straight.”

“You’re… you’re serious?” the flabbergasted crustacean said.

“As a plague on your crops,” said the boy. “After she exhausted the blacksmith’s supply of raw iron, we started going into nearby dungeons and fortresses. She didn’t even loot chests and stuff, she’d just beat up whatever bandits or undead were occupying the place and then proceed to pull apart any bit of iron she could find. From chandeliers, from furniture, even the locks on the doors. Sacks full of scrap, all to take back to the forge and melt to make more daggers with. Don’t ask me how, but after two months of hammering the same dagger shape countless times, the smithy said she was an even better metalcrafter than him. Almost a master.”

Balthazar pinched the base of his eyestalks and sighed. “And then what?”

Once again, Joshua shrugged.

“Then she got bored of it all, melted all the daggers, and made that hammer you see on her back with the metal. And hasn’t smithed again ever since.”

“Crude,” said the merchant, examining the weapon the barbarian was carrying.

“But effective!” the farmer boy said with a grin.

“If you say so…” said the crab, before gazing up at the toy helmet sitting on the adventurer’s head, its partially broken wooden horn dangling in front of her forehead. “What about the helm? Did she make it too? It sure looks like it.”

“Oh, no. That she won in a drinking contest.”

“Somehow, I’m not surprised,” the merchant said, shaking his carapace slowly. “You know I could sell you a more suitable helmet from my—”

“No!” Thunk exclaimed suddenly. “Unicorn Helmet! Mine! No taksies!”

“Woah, alright. Easy, girl! Nobody’s trying to take your… treasured heirloom,” the startled crab said.

“Ah!” said Hannabeth, rejoining the group after her wallpaper gazing. “Are we sharing the tales of our equipments, friends?” She reached behind her back with one hand. “I would be delighted to tell you about mine shield of legend! I crafted it myself with—”

“Nope, we’re done with the stories, buckethead!” Balthazar quickly said, cutting her off.

“Aw…” the deflated knight muttered, attaching her shield to her back again.

“Let’s head into those mines already, while it’s still daytime!”

Joshua scratched the side of his head. “But aren’t the mines underground anyway?”

“Yes, but I wanna be back in time for supper. Madeleine promised me cinnamon buns before bed,” said the crab. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay up here, farm boy?”

“Oh, no, no,” the barbarian’s companion said, shaking his head rapidly. “The safest place for me to be is right under Thunk’s shadow, even if it’s inside a dangerous dungeon.”

“Suit yourself,” Balthazar said with a shrug. “What about your warrior-brothers, Khargol?”

The orc, who had been observing the nonsense with a disapproving scowl and arms crossed, spoke in a firm tone.

“They shall remain on the surface. One may not be aided by his tribe during his trials to become an elder.”

“Fair enough,” the enthusiastic merchant said, skittering to the counter and beginning to strap the Backpack of Holding Stuff & Things to his shell. “Then let’s grab my party and head into those mines to finally find what they hold!”