“Disgusting creature!” excimed the small man, staring down at Balthazar with an air of pt.

  As the crab stood back up, he gave the figure a closer look.

  The overly fand expensive clothes checked out, as did the terrible fashion style. The attitude was also clearly there. However, something else was missing.

  Wait a mihat’s a pencil goatee, not a pencil mustache!

  After overing his usual difficulties with telling humans apart, Balthazar breathed a sigh of relief. Moments like these made him miss his old monocle even more.

  “Sorry about that, big guy,” the mert said to the meat sb standio the smaller man. “I didn’t see you there… as hard to believe as that is.”

  “It talks!” the Antoine lookalike said in a disgusted squeak that felt like nails on chalkboard to the crab.

  “Yes, so do you, unfortunately,” muttered Balthazar, wishing for ohat he had ears too, so he could pull them out with his cws.

  “Preposterous! How low the standards have fallen in this pce. Ba the old days guards would never allow undesirables into this town.”

  “Yeah, terrible, I ’t imagine how you used to survive out there,” the crab said with casual snark. “You sure remind me a lot of a certain former mert.”

  “Mr. Antoine?!” excimed the man in a high-pitched voice as his eyes widened.

  “Ah, so you know the scumbag. Of course, it makes sense.” Balthazar eyed the strange man up and down once again. “So what are you, his body double, number one fan, or what?”

  “How dare you speak of our esteemed guildmaster like that, you foul beast!” the living squeaky toy said in a loud e. “Oh, if he was still in charge arouhings would be so very different!”

  “Right, ass-kissing wannabe. Got it,” said Balthazar with a roll of his eyestalks.

  “A talking crab with a disrespectful attitude…” muttered the man, eyes shooting daggers at the crusta. “Of course, it makes sense now. It’s you.”

  “Yep. Balthazar, renowned mert and bane of corrupt guildmasters, at your servi… well, no, scratch that st part, I really wouldn’t wanna service you.”

  “Why, you petunt little…” said the angry little man, face turning red as his expression twisted with fuming anger.

  “Amazing. The resembnce is almost uny. You even got the stupid facial hair down, even if you picked a different cut.”

  “I should… I should…” the blustering man said, his temper tantrum starting to attract the attention of the surrounding townsfolk.

  “You should… you should… what?” Balthazar said defiantly, cws firmly held in front of himself.

  I don’t need an iron cw to hahis kind of riff-raff.

  Pointing a fi the crab, the nobleman turo his side and yelled an order. “Bruce, you saw this beast take charge at me. Seize him!”

  For a moment, Balthazar had fotten about the bodyguard standing by the man’s side, easy as it was to mistake him for a crete pilr.

  Bruce stepped forward towards the crab, flexing his fists that the crab felt were closer to hams than hands.

  Ah crap, maybe I do miss my iron cw.

  As Balthazar opened his mouth to try and talk the brute into not making a crab and ham sandwich, Rye’s voice came through the crowd behind him, pulling the huge man’s attention and making him pause.

  “Hey, Balthazar, there you are. Wait for me.”

  Arrivio the crab, the young adventurer cocked an eyebrow as he looked on at the seething noble and his bodyguard. “What’s going on here?”

  He wasn’t the only one w, more and more townsfolk were stopping and lingering by, trying to figure out what all the otion was about.

  “Your… pet,” spat the nobleman, “he is not wele here!”

  “Why does everyone keep calling him that?” Balthazar muttered under his breath.

  “I don’t think it’s me he’s talki—” started Rye as the crab suddenly spoke up again.

  “You have no authority to say Rye ’t be here, pencil-stick. This town didn’t belong to Antoine, and it sure as hell doesn’t belong to the president of his fan club either.”

  The bodyguard gnced down at his boss. “Looks like he’s got pany. You still wao, you know…”

  “Yes, you stupid meathead! Must I repeat myself?! Clobber him!”

  “Woah, easy big guy, I don’t wanna fight you,” Rye said, one hand pulled back over his bow.

  “I wouldn’t wanna fight me either if I was you, kid,” Bruce said with a smirk as his shadow loomed over the boy and the crab.

  “Would you wanna fight us?” a booming voice asked from the crowd.

  The fures at the ter of everyone’s attention turo see who had spoken as a pair of adventurers stepped out of the crowd, one short and stocky with heavy armor and a thick beard, the other tall and nky with leather armor and a long fish-like face.

  “You guys good?” asked the bearded man, throwing a g Rye and Balthazar.

  “We heard the big ruckus and came to check what was going on,” said the other adventurer. “Couldn’t believe someone was messing with our favorite crab.”

  Suddenly, another voice came out of the crowd from a different dire.

  “Oi, whatcha sayin’ over there? Someone’s messin’ with Balthz?”

  Just as the ruffian-looking adventurer joined in, ario of adventurers stepped in too.

  “Did we hear right? Is the crab in town?”

  “And someone’s being stupid enough to pi him?”

  “Let me through, I want a piece of the a too!”

  Seeing more and more adventurers ing out of the general crowd and finding themselves encircled by them, the nobleman and his bodyguard slowly exged ed looks at one another.

  “Hey, boss, you ain’t paying me enough for this kind of heat.”

  The small man’s lip twitched as he gred at all the well armed adventurers around him.

  “This isn’t worth my time, Bruce. We’re going to miss visiting hours to see Mr. Antoine. Let’s go.” He stopped and threw one mre at Balthazar. “I’ll make sure to tell him all about what happened here, crab.”

  “Uhh… alright, do it?” said the mert with a shrug. “Was that supposed to be threatening?”

  With a loud harrumph, the urned and walked away with his bodyguard in tow, the crowd stepping aside to let them pass, while giving the small man funny looks and snickering as he went.

  “Make sure y Antoine a pillow,” Balthazar shouted. “I hear the floors on those cells are really hard!”

  As the pair of undesirables left and the crowd began dispersing, the adventurers came closer.

  “Well, well, looks like you ’t go anywhere without finding trouble, eh?” said one of them.

  “Don’t worry, though, we got your back, crab,” said another.

  “Yeah, that’s right, anyone messes with our favorite crab, you just let us know.”

  “Heh, right. Thanks, fels,” Balthazar said awkwardly.

  I’d better watch out, or soon enough every adventurer in the nd will be expeg a special dist from me.

  “You gotta remember, Balthazar,” said Rye, “you may be very popur around here now, but that doesn’t mean you don’t still have enemies. Antoine had a lot of ies under him, some are bound to be very upset at you for having ruiheir setup.”

  “I guess you’re right,” said the crab, sighing as he readjusted the straps of his backpack. “’t get to the top without making some enemies.”

  “Yeah, but that’s why it’s good to have friends watg your back.” The young man smiled a out a small chuckle. “Just try to remember not to run off and leave them behiime you smell something nice.”

  Balthazar’s eyes perked up, and he jumped in pce.

  “The smell!” he excimed, before running off through the crowd again, leaving Rye and the other adventurers behind unceremoniously.

  “Balthazar! I just told you… oh, f out loud,” Rye said, before running after the crab.

  Like a dog chasing the st of meat, a cat chasing the st of fish, or a crab chasing the st of pastries, Balthazar pushed his way through the narroacked pathways of the market, until he finally found the source of the delicious baking smell.

  A modest wooden stall in front of a stone wall, with wicker baskets pced all around it, some upright, others tilted to better dispy their tents to the passing townsfolk.

  As the crab approached, mouth watering with anticipation, he saw what was in the baskets.

  “These aren’t pastries!” he loudly procimed.

  “Hmm?” the owner of the stall said, peeking over the ter at the crab standing by his baskets. “Well, hello there. Are you looking for some bread?”

  Warm and golden, loaves of many sizes and shapes filled the baskets around the man. Some were tiny, round, and soft-looking with their light yellow tohers were long and narrow with their golden brown that made you hear the crisp sound of taking a bite into them just from looking.

  “I was… looking for pastries,” said Balthazar, feeling flicted. “Are you a baker?”

  “Why, yes, I am,” said the affable man, with an ear smile. “I make bread, though. Pastries, not so much. There’s a girl somewhere around this market that bakes those, though, I think.” He paused for a moment and tapped on his , thinking. “Although I haven’t seen her in a while. Hope she’s not sick. She seemed nice.”

  The crab’s eyestalks sagged down slightly.

  “Hey, what’s wrong?” said the baker. “I promise you my bread is very good too. Why don’t you try some?”

  Emerging from the crowd, Rye arrived o Balthazar, looking out of breath. “There you are. I thought I lost you again.”

  “Hello there, young man,” greeted the baker. “Is this crab your pe—”

  The adventurer quickly waved his arms from side to side in a frantiner while shaking his head. “Nope! Just don’t even say it, please!”

  Raising both eyebrows in surprise, the man abided and shut his mouth.

  “This is Balthazar,” Rye tinued, after taking a deep breath. “He’s a mert from out of town, visiting Ardville before we head off back to the road.”

  “Ah, that makes sense. I thought I heard about a mert crab before. Well, o meet you, friend. Now, about this delicious bread I mentioned…”

  Leaning over the ter, the baker presehe crab with a beautiful, massive loaf of crispy golden bread, steam still slowly emanating from it as the maly squeezed its crust, produg the most tantalizing chy sound.

  Balthazar let out a shaky, heavy breath. They were ly pastries, and they were not made by Madeleine’s hands, but the sight, smell, and sound of them were making the crab’s mouth water and his stomach rumble in all the right ways.

  It’s been so long…

  His stomach speaking louder than his brain as usual, Balthazar reached out to take the bread into his cws.

  “Alright, just a little taste ’t hurt.”

  The crab broke apart a tiny portion of the loaf with the tip of his pihe steaming white crumb letting out a swirling plume of steam that danced in front of his eyes like a vapor muse.

  With hesitant anticipation, the hungry mert pced the piece of bread into his mouth and gave it one single chew.

  “Hey, uh… Balthazar? You alright? You’ve been standing there frozen for like thirty seds now,” Rye asked.

  The baker watched the crab with a knowing smile, as the crusta’s eyestalks stood up in a distant stare of realization and shock.