“Keep up, Bruce,” said Antoine from atop his rge stallion. “I ’t afford to slow down for your sake.”

  Bruce, riding a few paces behind on a much smaller horse, scowled at the back of his patron’s head.

  “Maybe if we’d s horses like I’ve suggested, mine wouldn’t be always so tired. This thing is practically a pony. My feet are almost dragging on the road.”

  “Nonsense!” barked the arrogant mert. “I could never allow myself to be seen riding such a pathetic horse. A guildmaster like me must ride only on pure breeds.”

  “Fuildmaster,” said the bodyguard. “And shouldn’t you be trying to not be seen, so nobnizes you from all those bounty posters?”

  Antoine gred back. “Last I checked, I wasn’t paying you double that bounty to hear your ihoughts.”

  “Fine, suit yourself, but then don’t pin about my horse’s stride,” Bruce said with a shrug, unfazed by his emplaze. “And we’d better get to your hidden cache soon. My pay is almost due.”

  “Yes, yes, I know. You’ll get yold soon.”

  “That’s what you said yesterday, and we’re still riding in circles looking for your stupid crab.”

  Ardville’s fugitive groaned with frustrated anger.

  “He has to be somewhere around here,” he said. “All of his sightings lead to this road, and you heard the people from the burned vilge, his archer friehis way as well.”

  “A, we still haven’t found squat,” said the bored merc. “What’s your pn when we do find him anyway? Because if it’s for me to squash him, that’s gonna cost you extra.”

  “Don’t you worry about that,” said the menag mert. “I have worse pns for him first.”

  Pulling on the horse’s reins, Bruce slowed down and straightened his back. “Heads up, there’s someone on the road.”

  Antoine’s gaze followed the merc’s, until he spotted a figure walking towards them along the edge of the path.

  “Excellent, another of those moronic adventurers,” the former mert said quietly. “They all seem to know the crab, so let’s find out if he has seen him somewhere.”

  “Greetings,” said the adventurer as they reached each other on the road. “You wouldn’t happen to be ied in buying a few rabbit pelts from—”

  “You there!” excimed Antoine in a anding voice, stig his up from atop his stallion. “I require information from you.”

  Ren frow the man, but remained silent.

  The pompous horse rider stared down at him for a moment, barely hiding a sneer as he examihe handmade clothes and armor Ren was wearing.

  “You’re a traveling adventurer, I take it?”

  The Champion squinted, p his answer for a sed. “In a way. I am actually looking for an individual. Maybe you could help me. His name is—”

  “Excellent,” the man on the horse said, ign Ren’s words once again. “Then you should surely be able to tell us: have you seen the…” He paused and swallowed like someone who had just tasted something unsavory. “Esteemed mert Balthazar around these roads?”

  The adventurer’s eyebrows perked up for a split sed, before returning to a ral expression.

  “’t say that I have,” Ren said casually, gauging the other man’s rea carefully. “Any particur reason why you are looking for him?”

  Antoine scoffed. “I have a debt to settle with him, is all.”

  The adventurer cocked an eyebrow and crossed his arms.

  “Really? You seem rather upset, friend. Does Balthazar owe you something?”

  The rider’s eyes widened with underlying ire. “Oh, he owes me, alright. My entire life! When I find him…”

  “Hey, boss,” said the bodyguard riding behind him. “You sure you wanna be sayin—”

  “Silence, merc!” Antoine spat. “You’re paid to guard me, not interrupt me.”

  Ren rubbed his with i. “Seems like you have a bone or two to pick with this mert.”

  “He is no mert!” the angry little man said. “That is an insult to my trade. He is a fraud! A liar and a cheater. Ruiner of lives and businesses. You should watch yourself too, adventurers are known to perish around him. He will get what’s ing to him, though. Soon, very soon. I’ll make sure he—”

  “I really think we should get going,” said Bruce, riding up to the right of his patron and staring at him with a scowl.

  Antoine exhaled sharply before looking down at the horseless man to his left.

  “If you haven’t seen him retly then you are of no use to me. Begone.”

  And with a click of his ahe arrogant rider drove his horse forward without another word, his bodyguard following close behind.

  Ren watched quietly as the two departed, while processing the enter he just had.

  “Iing,” he muttered under his breath. “So this Balthazar is well known around these parts, and apparently has some enemies. Sounds like mine was not the only life he ruined, and that the kid at the beach was not the only one he left for dead.” He paused, tapping on his thoughtfully. “Ihis Balthazar might be more dangerous than I expected. I must proceed very carefully, and make sure I am powerful enough before I front him.”

  ***

  “Keep up, Rye,” said Balthazar, while rubbing his itg antennae. “We ’t afford to waste the daylight.”

  “e on, Balthazar,” groahe archer, several paces behind him and his panions. “We’ve been searg for this supposed town for days now, and we’re still no closer to figuring out where exactly it is, if it eves at all!”

  “We have to be close, I feel it in my bones!” said the determined crab.

  “You don’t have bones!”

  “My metaphorical bones!”

  “Seriously, when are you going to tell me why this… dor town is so important?” said Rye.

  “I told you, there’s a group of people there that I o meet,” Balthazar said dismissively.

  “So you keep saying, but you dodge expining how this will help us find Madeleine,” insisted the archer.

  The mert groaned as he tinued walking without looking back at his friend. “In a roundabout way, it will. They might have some answers I need.”

  Rye stopped walking.

  “You know what, that’s enough. If we’re going to keep going around in circles, both in our seard in this versation, I’m not taking aep until you tell me exactly what it is that you need from this Ruby dy.”

  Balthazar stopped too, hesitating for a moment before turning bad walking up to the human.

  “I have tried, Rye,” he said with a frown. “And whenever I try to, you are the one who doesn’t let me get too far into it.”

  The young man looked at the crab with a fused expression. “What do you mean?”

  “You want to know why I o find this group of adventurers and talk to Ruby? Fihe crusta said in a serious and out of patieone. “I wao tell me why talking birds trol the system. You know, the little words in your eyes? I wao tell me why this whole levels charade eves and why only adventurers use it. And I wao tell me where adventurers like you came from and why you all are here, because I’m tired of just watg things happening to me and around me while I tried to just ighem like I was in my own little bubble.”

  Rye’s expression of fusion grew into perplexity. “I… What are you talking about?!”

  “What I’m talking about, Rye, is where, for example, have you e from?”

  “W-what do you mean? I came from up the road, just like you. We have been traveling together since—”

  “No, Rye,” said the resolute crab. “I’m asking where did you e frinally? Before you were an archer, an adventurer, before you had levels and funny words floating in your eyes, before you woke up on a beach. Where did you live before all that?”

  “I… I…” the boy stared off into the distah ay gaze, his breathing accelerating as a mix of emotions ran through his expression. “I don’t… I don’t know what you’re talking about. I think we should ge the subject.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” the crusta said, before turning back to the road while muttering. “Just like all the other times we had this talk.”

  After less than a minute of walking, Balthazar heard Rye’s casual voice speak again.

  “So, you think we’re any closer?” the young man said with a smile, as he caught up to the crab.

  The mert stared at him for a moment.

  Amazing. Every siime. It’s like I never eveio.

  “I don’t know,” said Balthazar, pulling the map out of his backpack. “But I’m pretty sure we’ve sed this side of the river at this point. We o cross to the other shore. If that town still exists, it has to be there.” He poio the small mountains over the treelihe hills match, I just wish Sal could have narrowed down the area a bit more.”

  “Alright, let’s get going, then,” said the cheerful young man.

  As the quartet of travelers reached the edge of the river, Balthazar looked in both dires. “There’s got to be some way across.”

  “Maybe Blue could carry us over to the other side?” suggested Rye.

  The drake looked at the crab and the human with a deadly scowl.

  “No, that’s definitely not an option,” said Balthazar, gulping at the mere thought of heights. “We o find a bridge or something.”

  “There, let’s ask that local,” Rye said, pointing downstream.

  A lone figure stood by the shore, a few paces away from them, seemingly busy doing something the crab could not fully perceive.

  As they got closer, he finally figured out the man ulling an old fishi from the water, empty and full of holes.

  “Howdy there,” said Balthazar.

  “Caught any big fish today?” said the friendly archer.

  The man tipped his stra with one finger and gnced back at the group. “Ain’t fishing for fish, son.”

  “No?” said Rye. “What then?”

  “Fishing for valuables,” said the man, as he tinued pulling the o shore. “Adventurers like you do a lot of dying upstream, and sometimes I ab a few treasures here. Not that that’s any of yer business, o’course.”

  “Alright, well, we’re just looking to know if there is a way across this river somewhere nearby,” Balthazar said. “Would you happen to know?”

  “Yep,” said the fisherman, from the er of his mouth that wasn’t busy chewing on a long piece of straw.

  After a long pause where the local tinued slowly colleg his , Balthazar threw his arms up. “Well?!”

  “Well what?”

  “Are you going to tell us?”

  “he man said casually.

  Balthazar felt a vein that did pulsing in a forehead he did not have. “And why the hell not?!”

  “Do you really o know how to get across the river?”

  “Of course we do!”

  “Then that means that information is valuable to you,” the irritating piscator said, gng back at them while untangling pieces of algae from his . “And you see how I’m fishing for valuables over here, don’t you?”

  The crab scowled as he exhaled sharply.

  “I think he wants us to pay for the information, Balthazar,” said Rye, leaning closer to the crusta.

  “Yes, I got that, thanks,” the annoyed shellfish said. “I just ’t imagine who would see a group of travelers in need of help and decide to try and make a profit out of them in exge for simple dires!”

  “Uh… You? I could totally see you doing that,” muttered the archer.

  “Not helping, Rye!”

  “Look,” said the fisherman, “I don’t know what it's like where y’all e from, but down here life is tough, and a man’s gotta make a living where he , however he . You want to find a way across for yourselves, ght ahead, but you’ll be in for a very long walk.”

  “We’ve already wasted days on this ghost town hunt, Balthazar,” whispered the adventurer. “We ’t afford even more time looking fes that might not evehere.”

  The crab grumbled to himself.

  “Fine,” he excimed. “Let’s do it my way, then.”

  “Great,” the man said, as he prepared to cast the again. “How much you willing to offer?”

  Like hell I’ll give you any of my precious s!

  “I had something else in mind,” said Balthazar. “A trade, perhaps.”

  “What kind of trade?” the local said, with a cocked eyebrow.

  “Ah, the worthwhile kind, of course!” the mert said, while taking off his Backpack of Holding and shoving both cws i.

  Let’s see, I gotta have somethihat will satisfy this guy.

  He searched, rummaged, and dug, but kept on ing up with nothing that sparked the right trader inspiration. Until…

  Why in the world did Tristan and Hea pack this thing in my bag?! Were they having a ugh?

  “So?” said the impatient man. “You gonna make an offer or what? I got a o cast.”

  iate with what you have, I guess…

  “Right, about that!” said Balthazar. “Your fishing and your .”

  “What about it?”

  “I ’t help but notice that you’re not having much luck pulling anything.”

  “And?”

  “No offense, but that looks like it has seeer days,” the crab said. “I think you need something to improve your odds of catg something valuable.”

  “Like what?” asked the suspicious fisherman.

  “This!” excimed the mert, pulling his cw out of the backpad holding up a pair of loose fishs, blowing in the wind like a fg.

  “Are those… stogs?” said the incredulous adventurer behind him. “Why are you carrying stogs in y?!”

  “Please stop asking questions, Rye,” the crab muttered from behind his sales pitch smile.

  “The hell do I want that for?” the local said abruptly.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” said Balthazar. “These are fishs. Equip them and their special entment will boost your fishing skill, greatly increasing your odds of catg something valuable.”

  The man looked at the pair of tights blowing in the wind with suspi. “Really?”

  “Of course,” the mert fidently said. “Look at me, I’m a crab. If there’s something I know, it’s fishing. And for the low, low price of telling us how to get across this river, these could be yours.”

  [The Gift of the Crab: success]

  “I do like the way they look, for some reason,” the fisherman said, scratg his prickly hair. “Ah, fi’s practically free information. I’ll take it.”

  “Great. How do we get to the other side?”

  “You got twes. One is half a day’s walk downstream, and the other is about ten minutes upstream, but trust me, you wanna take the one downstream.”

  “Take the ohat is several hours away when we’ve got one just ten mihat way?” said the mert. “Why would we ever do that? No way, we’re going upstream and—”

  “The bridge upstream has a toll.”

  “Never mind, we’re going downstream. Let’s go, Rye,” Balthazar quickly said as he spun around to go iher dire.

  “e on, Balthazar,” said the adventurer, pg a hand on the crab’s arm. “We already lost way too much time, we ’t afford to waste another day just to get to the other side of the river.”

  “You heard him, there’s a toll. That means paying money, Rye!”

  “Do I really o remind you why we’re all the way out here, doing this? Would she turn back if it was you in her pce?”

  Balthazar’s shell slumped slightly, a out a quiet sigh.

  “Fihat was a low blow, but you’re right. Let’s go upstream.”

  As the group was leaving, the crab looked back at the fisherman, who was trying to work out the best way to fit the fishs over his straw hat.

  “No, no,” yelled the crab, pointing down with his pincer. “They don’t go on your head.”

  The man looked at the crab and then down at his own legs. The crab nodded slowly.

  Balthazar quickly skittered back to his party, snickering as the fisherman unbuttoned his pants by the shore.

  After a short walk along the shore, they spotted a road leading up a small dirt mound, ending on an old stone bridge over the river.

  “Look at that!” said the happy crab, stepping on the bridge and turning to the archer with open arms. “That guy was lying. There isn’t even a toll booth here.”

  Rye froze on the spot, staring with wide eyes over the mert’s shell.

  Balthazar dropped his arms and sighed. “There’s something behind me, isn’t there?”

  The boy nodded slowly, eyes still fixed above his friend.

  The ground shook under his feet, and a huge shadow loomed over the crab.

  “The fisherma the bridge had a troll, not a toll, didn’t he?”

  Rye nodded again.