Merchant Crab

Chapter 142: Milk Beater

Both the scrawny mugger and the girl being robbed froze in their fight for the latter’s satchel, turning their heads to the trio that had just stepped into the alley: a giant crab wearing a backpack, a small goblin in an oversized hat, and an awkwardly long juvenile drake trying to fit into the narrow space between buildings.

After a moment of stupefied staring from the humans, Balthazar decided to speak again, “I said let her go!”

The thief, still holding on to the leather straps of the bag, blinked in disbelief a couple of times, before abruptly bursting out into mocking laughter.

He laughed, cackled, and guffawed, until his face was red and his eyes teary, all while Balthazar’s scowl grew heavier.

“Oh, man, I hadn’t laughed so hard in a while,” the ratty fiend said, wiping the corner of his eyes with one hand while still holding the satchel with the other. “Nobody told me there was a circus in town.”

“Why? Are you looking to apply for the clown job?” the crab threw with spite.

The mocking smile dropped from the man’s face in a flash, and he pointed a threatening finger at the crustacean. “You watch it, wise guy, before I have to go over there and teach you a lesson.”

“Well, I did tell you to let her go, so… go on.” The crab beckoned him to come closer with the backside of his claw.

“You little…” the mugger growled, his face turning a shade redder while his knuckles turned white, grasping the satchel’s strap even tighter.

“Please,” the girl said, “there’s really no need to make the situation worse.”

“You can’t appease bullies,” Balthazar told her. “The only way to make them back down is standing up to them.”

“Who in the hell does this idiot think he is, playing hero around my alley?!” the thug said, scrunching up his ugly face at the merchant.

“Please don’t hurt him,” said the girl. “He’s clearly just a misguided passerby trying to help.”

The ruffian spat on the floor. “Yeah, he’s misguided alright.”

“There’s really no need to punch down on the weak,” she continued.

“Weak?” the crab muttered between his mouthparts.

“He knows not what he’s getting himself into,” the victim told the robber.

Balthazar shuffled awkwardly. “Alright, maybe dial it down a bit…”

“He is just a simple-minded animal acting recklessly, it really does not warrant paying him much mind.”

“Holy hell, lady! You do know I’m on your side, right?”

“Alright, shut your yappers, both of ya!” yelled the mugger, with a quick pull that finally yanked the satchel from his mark’s hands.

He took a couple of steps towards the crab. “You and your freak show parade got about five seconds to scram outta here, or I’m gonna show ya what a Marquessian welcome looks like, and you ain’t gonna like it.”

Balthazar did quite know what was getting into him. He knew he was by no means a hero, or even all that brave, but the ruffian’s threats and attitude were making me want to do anything but back down.

“Sure,” he said, pointing a pincer at the man’s hand. “After you give that satchel back to its owner.”

The lowlife at the center of the alley sniffled loudly and disdainfully. “Really, huh? Who’s gonna make me?”

“We are,” the defiant crustacean responded.

[The Gift of the Crab: intimidation failed.]

Once again, the fiend cackled.

“What? A freak of nature, with a sample-sized goblin and a lanky overgrown lizard?”

A few paces behind him, Balthazar felt the air getting warmer as Blue bared her fangs and growled.

“No, Blue,” the merchant whispered to the drake. “You might burn the girl too.”

“You don’t talk to boss like that!” the green assistant yelled out, holding on to his hat while brandishing his staff angrily.

“Ha ha! Are you serious?” the detestable man said. “This thing don’t even know how to speak right! What are you gonna do, try to hit me with your little stick?”

Balthazar could see the anger seething in Druma and placed a claw in front of him. “Don’t.”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

The goblin slowed his breathing and looked at the crab. “Boss don’t want Druma to kaboom bad man?”

The merchant shook his shell. “Too much risk of collateral damage in such a tight alley. This situation requires some more… finesse to handle.”

Squaring the shoulders he did not have, Balthazar stepped forward.

“Oh, little man wanna fight, does he?” the criminal said with a mocking attitude.

Just because my talking failed once doesn’t mean I can’t try again. I just need to find the right angle to work him.

“I’m not afraid of cowards like you,” the puffed up crab said.

He’s not that big. What’s he going to do, punch me? I’m sure my natural armor could—

Suddenly and without warning, the mugger hit Balthazar with a jab right between the eyestalks.

[Unarmed damage taken: 3]

“Ow!” howled the merchant, stumbling back as he rubbed the space where a nose would be, if he had such unnecessary appendages. “Did you just punch me?!”

“Oh yeah,” said the ruffian, hopping on his feet from side to side, fists held in front of his chest. “And there’s plenty more where that one came from. You gonna learn a lesson today, freak.”

As he prepared to charge forward again, a loud yell came from behind the mugger, making him turn. “What the—”

With a loud crash, a big jug hit the criminal on the side of the head, shattering and sending pieces of ceramic flying everywhere, as well as spilling its liquid contents all over him.

He fell to the floor, wet and covered in a white substance while grabbing his ear and crying in pain. The girl who was being robbed a moment before stood over her assailant now, handle of the broken jug still in hand, breathing fast as she stared him down with wide, bulging eyes.

“Not so tough now, are ya?!” she screamed, shooting a quick kick to his stomach. “Come on, act mean now!”

“Oh! Ow! Stop! Ah!” pleaded the lowlife, from his current low position in life, as his former victim viciously kicked him in the groin over and over.

“That’s. What. You. Get,” she yelled with a maniac expression as the stomping continued. “For punching down on those weaker than you!”

Balthazar watched on with his eyestalks standing to full attention, flabbergasted at the display of unchecked violence from the small girl in noble dressing.

By the entrance of the alley, both Druma and Blue also stared at the whole scene with wide eyes and jaws dropped, unsure of what to do.

“Alright, alright! Stop!” the crab finally said, trying to shoo the woman away from the sorry pile of man crumpled up on the alley floor. “I’m not even sure who needs saving anymore!”

She finally stepped back, shaking her head and brushing her hair back while taking a deep breath.

“Did you just beat this guy up with… milk?” Balthazar asked, incredulous.

The girl looked at the broken jug handle still in her hand and tossed it aside. “And a small share of ceramic too, yeah.”

She stepped closer to the mugger again, making him recoil with a whimper as she bent down and pulled the satchel from him. “And give me that back!”

“Just get out of here, before she breaks something more than your dignity,” Balthazar told the man. “Go on, scram!”

Stumbling back to his feet, the lowlife ran out of the alley, still hunched over his own sore stomach.

“You know, we have guards to handle these guys in this town,” the girl said. “Should probably not have let him go.”

The crab turned back to her. “Oh, I’m sorry, and where were your guards while you were getting robbed?”

“I had it under control,” she said, still recomposing herself.

Balthazar looked at her with a frown.

“But… thank you for intervening, it was very noble of you,” the young girl added. “I’m Olivia, by the way.”

She extended her hand at the crab, who gently touched it with the tip of his pincer.

“Balthazar,” the merchant said.

“New in town, I take it?” Olivia asked.

“What gave it away?”

“Well, there’s the fact that you stepped up when someone was in trouble, instead of just walking away minding your own business like most people in this city,” she explained. “But also the fact that you’re a crab accompanied by a goblin and a drake. I’m fairly certain that’s new, even for a place like Marquessa.”

“Oh, right,” said Balthazar. “Well, we were just passing by trying to find our way to the guildhall.”

The noble girl pulled a small mirror from the satchel and continued talking while checking that her hair was all in place. “Ah, I see. Got business with one of the guilds, then?”

“Not really. Just looking for some directions to where I’m going, and I was told that would be the right place to go.”

Storing the mirror back in her bag, Olivia pulled the satchel’s strap over her head and took a few steps towards the main street.

“Right, well, that would be a good place to find your path or even some scout to guide you there,” she said, while pointing a finger north. “The hall is right over there. You can even see its dome from here, if you stand on the tip of your toes.”

The crab stepped out of the alley with her and his companions.

“Well, I ain’t got any of those, but I think I see what you’re talking about.”

“Great!” Olivia exclaimed. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I was meant to go meet my aunt, and knowing her, nearly being robbed will not be an acceptable excuse for being late. Thanks again and I hope we meet again!”

With haste, the young girl wandered off, disappearing into the passing crowd.

“Good… bye,” the crab said, one claw held up in what was about to be a wave but never got a chance to start.

What an odd girl…

With a shrug, Balthazar gestured for his two friends to follow, and they continued up the sidewalk.

Over the horizon of heads and hats from the populace in front of him, the merchant could spot the dome of the guildhall growing in the distance as they got closer.

Alright, almost there! Without any more distractions I—

“Oi, you, crab!” a loud voice called.

“Huh?” said the crustacean, turning around to look for the source of the yell.

A goon—because there was no better word Balthazar could think of to describe that individual upon laying eyes on him—came out of a nearby street, a mean scar on his mean-looking face that went along perfectly with his also mean-looking body, somehow rotund and flabby, but also intimidatingly robust and muscular.

Alongside him were three other ruffians, one of them covered in milk, cowering in the back.

“Are you the one who beat up my friend Georgie here?!” the tough-sounding thug said, as he cracked his knuckles.