The afternoon was breezy, and the sun was retreating behind the clouds, quickly ushering in a new cold night. Autumn’s arrival meant days were shorter, and the weather less pleasant, both things bound to impact a crab’s roadside business.

  Balthazar didn’t mind. He liked the pleasant feeling of the wind on his shell, the smells of the trees and their leaves, the colors of the season, with all their browns and es.

  It all felt… fortable to him.

  While stoking the coals of his fire pit with a metal rod, the crab let out a long sigh and decided it was time to close up the bazaar for the day. The e glow in the horizon was rapidly being overtaken by the purple hue of night winning the day cycle race, and there would be no more adventurers on the road by the time he finished putting his things away, collected his sign outside, and closed the front doors.

  “Alright, let’s do it,” he whispered, willing himself to stand up from his zy fire gazing.

  A few more things to do and he would be free to retreat to his tral islet, into his tent, onto his fortable cushion, where he would savor Madeleiest baking experiment: a chocote-filled écir.

  Ever since she moved to her new market spot, away from Antoiyrannical rent prices and the added stress that came with making ends meet, the young baker had found herself much more free ao let herself try hings with her products.

  Acc to Rye, she ending a few hours every day, after closiall, visiting the town’s library, looking for books and any type of literature she could find with more recipes. Old diaries, texts from faraway nds describiic delicacies in unknown nguages, anything that piqued her i and gave her new ideas to try i. She was no longer satisfied with being just a baker that made the same things every day. She wao create new delicious treats that surprised the taste buds, and Balthazar was thrilled for her.

  As well as for himself.

  Being her most loyal t and also favorite crab friend, she was using his very advanced and refiaste for pastries and everything sweet as the test subject for her new creations, something Balthazar was more than gd to help with.

  Because that’s what friends do, of course.

  When your baker asks you to try her new dessert and sends you basket after basket of new and amazing pastries, you just do what you have to do and try them all, for friendship’s sake.

  “She’s so lucky to have me,” said the crab, smiling as he took down the wooden sign by the road.

  As Balthazar turo go baside, something in the er of his eye caught his attention.

  There was a figure walking up the road, a human silhouette against the green background of the forest behind.

  Whoever it was walked with a slightly abnormal gait, a posture of someone perhaps injured, one arm hanging lower thaher.

  The odd character wore a rge hood over the head and part of the face, from peared to be a wide poncho that went down almost to the knees.

  Balthazar found himself stu pce, staring at the figure as it approached. Something about it felt different, unusual, and got the hairs on the back of his o stand up. And he didn’t even have a neck. Or hair.

  Still holding on to the sign with both pincers, the crab watched quietly as the (presumed) human stopped in front of him, boots covered in dust and mud, the bck of the clothing looking washed out from too much time spent uhe sun.

  Despite not being able to see the person’s eyes, Balthazar could tell by the head tilt that whoever was uhat rge hood was reading his sign.

  “Balthazar’s Bazaar,” a dry, harsh voice said. “Do you sell any water?”

  Whoever that resumably a man, sounded exactly like someone in dire need of water. His voice sounded like sandpaper, talking from a parched throat that had not made a sound in days.

  “Of… of course, got plenty of water ihe crab finally responded, snapping out of his bewilderment and remembering his business instincts.

  Odd as that fellow might be, you don’t deny water to someone in need. Not if they’re looking to buy it, at least.

  “e on in,” Balthazar said, signaling for the man to follow as he walked dowh to his front gate. “I was about to close, but I always got time for one more t.”

  The strange figure followed him to the bazaar quietly, limping slightly as he went. Despite everything, the crab did not feel threatened by him, or as if he was dangerous. The stranger simply gave him a sense of… curiosity.

  As the man passed him aered the hall, Balthazar eyed him with his monocle, ied in finding out what he was.

  Instead, he saw something he had never seen before in all his time using that magis.

  [???]

  The crab frowned, peered through the monocle again, even rubbed his eye, but the familiar text that would appear above the person’s head with their level and css insisted on not appearing as it usually did, instead dispying nothing but question marks.

  “What in the hell?” Balthazar whispered to himself.

  As they went ihe crab looked around at some random items on his shelves, making sure the monocle could still identify them. Everything else dispyed normally, except the stranger.

  Trying to not let his rea show, the mert skittered his way around the ter and got onto his stool.

  “Sure was a dry day today, you must be parched, mister…” Balthazar said with a mertile friendliness, hanging the st word, waiting for the other to finish it for him.

  “Yes, I am. I would be very gd to get some water, if you have any,” the stranger said, half sitting on a stool and pg one arm on the ter.

  As his hand appeared from uhe poncho, Balthazar noticed it was covered in strips of bandages, ed from his palm all the way down to his fiips.

  Whoever this mysterious fellow was, he seemed determio keep his identity to himself.

  “Sure thing,” Balthazar said, grabbing a water skin from uhe ter and pg it in front of the thirsty man. “Here you go. 5 gold and you keep the skin too.”

  Without hesitation, the man grabbed the tainer, ope, and tipped it into his mouth, drinking loudly from it.

  While Balthazar still couldn’t fully make out the man’s face, he saw more of the same old-looking, stained bahat covered his hands ed around the lower part of his fad his neck.

  “You sure hat, hah,” the crab said with a chuckle. “You got caught out there in the wild without water? It’s pretty te to be wandering too. Found trouble on the roads, maybe?”

  The stranger put the water skin down on the ter with a timid slosh sounding from within, indig there was now little liquid left in it.

  He let out a quiet sigh of relief before speaking again, this time in a slightly less raspy but still coarse voice.

  “You sure are very nosy for someohout a nose.”

  “Ah, ha ha, good one. So I’ve been told.”

  “Do you have some other travel supplies here for sale?” the man asked, repositioning himself oool slowly and with difficulty, like someone who is sore all over would.

  “Of course,” the salescrab excimed. “Got a bit of everything in my bazaar. What would you need?”

  “Just some basic things,” the other said. “Some dry rations for the road. Some salves, a potion or two. A couple of these.” He shook the water skin on the ter. “And a torch, maybe even a ntern, if you got any that are travel size.”

  “Not a problem,” Balthazar said as he gathered items from the nearby shelves.

  All of those things were items only requested by adventurers going on lorips through the wilderness, so he was used to selling them daily.

  Gng back at the man’s worn-out clothes and rags, a thought occurred to the crab.

  “You pay for these things, right? This is a bazaar, not charity.”

  The stranger shifted in his seat.

  “Yes. I’m sure I . I’m sure I got something of value to trade,” he said, pulling a satchel from under his poncho and searg through it.

  “I usually prefer for—”

  Balthazar’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor as he saw the man pull a shiny object out of his bag.

  A statuette in the shape of a woman, some kind of princess or muse, the crab couldn’t tell for certain, and he didn’t much care to, as what really caught his eye was the fact that it was made of pure, solid gold.

  The stranger pced it on the ter with a heavy thud that left no question the figurine was not hollow at all. It was about as tall as the man’s forearm, and the base on which the depicted woman stood had several precious gems encrusted all around it.

  “Hopefully you’ll take this as payment,” the nameless adventurer said. “I don’t really have anything else I pay with at the moment.”

  “I… You…” Balthazar stuttered as his eyes remained fixed oatuette.

  Gold s were ohing. He loved their shiny glint and the captivating appeal of their value, but that piece of beautiful art was something else entirely. He was golden perfe.

  Then, as if an echo sounded inside his shell, Balthazar remembered what had happehe st time he let his fasation folden artifact take over him.

  Giving the statue a side-eye, he tried looking for any signs of something amiss with it. Could this be another cursed item, like the damnable box that summoned all those mosquitoes the other time?

  The figurine looked perfectly normal. Fasating aiful, but harmless.

  He sed it with his monocle, looking for any sign of it being cursed like the box, but this time nothing seemed out of pce.

  [Golden Statuette]

  It really appeared to be just a statue of a female muse of some kind.

  Still suspicious about such a generous offer from someone so spicuous, the shrewd mert turned his gaze back to the man.

  “Where did you get this? This better not be traband. I don’t deal with that kind of stuff.”

  “No, I’m no criminal, I assure you,” the stranger said.

  “Is this some kind of eborate fake?” the crab insisted. “You have no money. Where would you get something like this?”

  “It’s entirely genuine, I promise you.” the stranger paused for a moment, his face obscured by his hood. “In fact, that statuette came from a hoard.”

  Balthazar’s left eye stalk rose higher. “Excuse me?”

  “A dragon’s hoard. It art of the pile of treasure in a dragon’s ir.”

  “Y to pull my leg here, aren’t you?” the crab said. “Nobody has seen a dragon in ages.”

  “Well, I have,” the stranger said, his rough voice going lower. “I have been to pces many don’t even k. Seen things most don’t even dream of. A dragon ir deep in a cavern under a mountain is hardly the stra one. I barely made it out, but this was the only thing I had time to grab.”

  “Are you serious?” Balthazar asked, his voice mixing doubt with a wish to believe the tale. “A whole cave filled with gold and treasure?”

  “As serious as death itself.”

  The crab had read the tales, the stories, the myths. The books told of the dragons of old and their taste for treasure and gold. In a way, Balthazar saw a lot of himself in them. Mighty creatures of great intellect with a desire to collect gold and shiny things.

  Balthazar did not actually believe the man's story. There was no way dragons still existed. If they did, all those insane adventurers would be tripping over themselves for the opportunity to fight it, foolish as that would be. The crab knew when someone was fabrig a fanciful story to impress someone. He would know, he had do plenty of times himself. It was just that, a story, but that did not ge the value of the statuette in his eyes.

  Let the stranger have his tale, so long as the crab would get his prize.

  “And you’re just willing to part with this in exge for some rations and basic supplies? Just like that?”

  “Like I said, I’ve been to many pces,” the odd man said, the weight of someoired hanging in his voice. “These things, these… treasures, beeaningless when you’re out there ahe most basic of things, like water, food, or shelter. I don’t his statuette, but I do hose supplies. So yes, you have it. To me, it means little at this point. Just ari from another adventure.”

  “Deal, then!” Balthazar excimed, waiting not another moment after the man finished speaking. “Better not e back here ter with regrets, either. Every sale is final here.”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t,” said the stranger. “ces are we won’t even cross paths ever again, crab. My journey is long and still nowhere near its destination.”

  “Yeah, sure, whatever you say,” the crab said, pushing the pile of supplies across the ter, eyes still glued to his reasure, admiring its beautiful glow, its smooth surface, each perfectly carved detail.

  Seeing the mert was so taken by his payment, the t simply took his travel supplies, stored them in his satchel under his poncho, and made his way out of the bazaar without another word, off into the su.

  Back to his journey, far, far away.

  H0st