Merchant Crab

The plains were barren, their soils a mix of grays and blacks, the few grass bushes that dotted the land brown and lifeless. Despite the clear blue sky that they had experienced all day, simply stepping out of the forest and into those fields made it feel like the weather itself had changed in an instant, to a gloomy ambiance lacking in color and even the usual sounds of nature.

Along the barely noticeable road path ahead of the crab’s party, they could see vague remnants of civilization through the toppled sign posts and broken pieces of wooden fences.

Whatever that place once was, it was long gone, leaving nothing but a bleak memory behind.

“Druma don’t like this place,” said the agitated goblin, clutching his staff tight against his chest as they walked into the plains.

“Me neither, buddy,” Balthazar said, his frowning eyestalks scanning the area for any signs of life. “You traveled around a lot, haven’t you, Rye? Have you ever seen anything like this?”

“No,” the concerned adventurer responded. “I’ve seen ruins, I’ve seen abandoned buildings, I’ve even seen a burned village recently, but nothing so suddenly out of place as this. It’s like a complete dead spot in the middle of the land.”

The crab looked over to the edges of the forest around the plains. They were full of greens and the normal autumnal golds and oranges, with abundant foliage and life all around them, up to the exact point where the woods ended and the clearing began, barren and devoid of color.

“It’s like something very bad and very specific happened here, but only here, up to a specific point,” the merchant commented.

Rye rubbed his neck nervously. “Are you sure this is the place we want to be in? I can’t imagine anyone living here, and I’m getting a really bad feeling from it.”

“No, we have to be on the right track,” said Balthazar. “Let’s just push a little further and see if we find a signpost that is still legible.”

“Couldn’t you send Blue flying ahead to scout the area from above?” suggested the archer.

The crab glanced at the drake walking alongside them. “I… no, it’s best not to. I don’t know what dangers might lie ahead, and I don’t want to send her in alone. We should stick together as a group.”

The azure creature looked at the crustacean with a hint of surprise in her golden eyes for a brief moment.

As the four of them advanced through the wasteland for a few more minutes, the outline of a building appeared in the distance, past the remains of a low fence and a long empty field.

“There’s a house over there,” Rye announced, holding a hand over his eyes as he scanned the horizon. “Looks like a farm.”

“Or at least what’s left of it,” said Balthazar, approaching the opening between the fence posts, where a path once was.

The house at the end of it was a ruin, most of its roof gone, and the place where windows once were now merely open holes on the walls.

“Let’s see if there’s anything or anyone there.”

“I can’t imagine someone living in that place,” said the human, but he followed all the same.

As they got closer, something took them by surprise.

On one of the empty fields near the collapsed house, past a broken well, was a man.

Just an average human being, dressed in worn out farmer clothes, wearing a straw hat full of gaps and holes, tilling at the barren soil beneath his feet with a rake.

“What in the…” said Balthazar.

“Oh, heya there, friends!” said the farmer with a big smile on his dirty face, as he continued to rake the dirt. “Didn’t see ya coming.”

“Uh… Hi there,” the crab hesitantly said. Something about that man was making him feel uneasy. “How’s… how’s it going?”

“Oh, it’s a beautiful day, isn’t it? Just wonderful! Perfect day to tend to my fields.”

“Yeah… sure?”

“Looks like the harvest will be good this year!” exclaimed the farmer, in an out of place joyful manner that gave Balthazar the creeps.

“This guy is weirding me out. There’s something wrong with him,” the adventurer whispered to the crab.

“Really, Rye?” Balthazar whispered back. “What tipped you off? The fact that he’s tilling a dead field, or the fact that he’s thrilled to be in the middle of this wasteland?”

The archer rolled his eyes. “I’ll go take a quick look around while you talk to him.”

“How am I supposed to talk to this—”

“Oh, heya there, friends! Didn’t see ya coming,” the farmer suddenly blurted out again, with the same wide smile.

Balthazar winced uncomfortably. “You, uh… you're feeling alright there, pal?”

“Never better!”

“Mhmm, sure,” the merchant said tentatively. “We were looking for a town, Condor. Would you happen to know where that was?”

“Oh, of course! Condor is right down the road that way,” the man said, pointing the opposite way the group had come from. “I’ll have to visit the market there myself soon, once we harvest all these chestnuts!”

The crab looked behind the farmer, at the barren field with nothing but one small shriveled dead tree without a single leaf to it, only a broken branch hanging off of it, slowly and creepily swinging in the wind.

“You’re so… lucky,” he said to the farmer.

“Ah, it’s a modest living, but I can’t complain,” the cheerful man continued. “I’ve got my farm, my wife, and my daughter. That’s all I need to be happy.”

Balthazar glanced back at Rye, who was peeking inside the seemingly empty house through one of the broken windows. He turned around and shrugged.

“Alright then,” said the weirded out merchant. “I think we’ll just be on our way now.”

The farmer stop tilling again and turned to them. “Oh, heya there, friends! Didn’t see ya coming.”

“Keep walking, guys,” Balthazar hurriedly said to Druma and Blue as he skittered back to the road. “Eyes forward, don’t look at the strange man.”

As they returned to the main path, Rye caught up to them as well.

“What was that all about?” he asked.

“I don’t know, but that guy was clearly not playing with a full deck. Hopefully he’s just the local loony, and we’ll find someone else more… sane.”

“This place…” the worried archer said. “I don’t know, it’s giving me the heebie-jeebies. I think we should just turn around and leave.”

Balthazar shook his shell.

“After we came all this way? No. I won’t leave until we get some answers.”

“Until you get some answers, you mean,” said Rye. “I still don’t see any reason to be here at all.”

The crab rolled his eyes. “We’re not doing this again.”

“I just hope I’m wrong, but I really can’t shake this feeling deep down that I’m going to regret coming here.”

As the group reached a desolate crossroads, with a piece of broken stone wall around a hole in the ground where a water well might have once been, they found a woman in an old and dirty dress, carrying two buckets in her hands and walking fast.

“Excuse me, do you—” Balthazar started.

“Sorry, ain’t got time to flap my lips with strangers. Got to bring water to the cows before my pa starts yelling for me,” the woman said loudly, as she walked past them.

As she did, the crab noticed both of her buckets were completely empty, one of them even having a large hole at the bottom.

They watched on, dumbfounded, as the woman walked towards a barn, or at least the skeletal frame of what once was a barn, now just a few support beams and a broken roof standing over nothing but dead weeds.

“Is everyone in this place just mental?” Rye said, still staring at the ruined barn with a baffled expression.

“Come on, let’s go, the town has to be close,” said Balthazar.

After just a couple more minutes of walking, enjoying the sights of decaying shrubbery, broken fences, and decrepit farmhouses, the group was suddenly startled by a small figure that ran in front of them out of nowhere.

“Hello, mister!” a young girl carrying a basket said to the crab. “Would you like to buy some flowers?”

“W-what?” said the merchant, taken aback by the flower girl’s sudden appearance.

“Some flowers,” she repeated. “Would you like to buy some? I just picked them!”

She leaned forward, presenting her basket to them, which had nothing in it, save for a few dry strings of brown weeds and roots.

“No, we’re good, thanks,” Balthazar hurriedly said, as he walked around the girl with a nervous look in his eyes. “We don’t really like flowers.”

“For crying out loud, Balthazar,” muttered the archer, moving up closer to the crab, “does any of this seem normal to you?”

The crustacean grumbled to himself.

“Fine,” he said to the human. “If we find one more weirdo like that, we’ll go, alright?”

Up the road, near a half broken stone column, Balthazar noticed another figure. A hooded man, tall and wearing mantled traveling clothes over what he knew well were pieces of sturdy armor, thanks to all the many months spent dealing with similarly dressed adventurers at his pond. What also stood out about him was that, unlike all the other locals they’d seen so far, this one was not doing anything, just leaning there against a pillar, watching them.

Hmm, there’s something different about this one.

The crab skittered towards the man. “Excuse me? Hello there. Would you know where Condor is?”

The hooded figure glanced down at the crab briefly, his face covered by a Shemagh scarf that left only his eyes exposed. “I’m just a farmer. Never heard of it. You probably took a wrong turn somewhere.”

And with that, he bounced off the stone column and started walking away from them.

Balthazar frowned. He knew he was on the right track. That was the right place. And that guy was definitely the right person.

With a jump of his eyestalks, the crab quickly reached into his backpack, searching for Ruby’s letter.

Retrieving the piece of parchment and unfolding it, his eyes quickly scanned through it for the part he wanted.

“There is a small abandoned town called Condor to the southeast, halfway between your pond and the sea, under the shade of a hill. You won’t find it on most modern maps, but if you ask about it to the right locals from that part of the continent, they will know of it. Find it and look for any farmers dwelling around its outskirts. Tell them you are looking for the local birdwatching club. They will point you in the right direction to us. Again, I am sorry for all the cloak-and-dagger, but circumstances require extra care.”

The merchant shoved the letter back in his pack and skittered forward to catch up with the hooded man.

“Hey, you, hold up!” Balthazar said. “I need to know where Condor is.”

“Told you already, I can’t help you,” the supposed farmer said without stopping or even looking at the crab. “Never heard of it.”

“I’m looking for the local birdwatching club,” the puffing merchant added, as he tried to keep pace with the man.

The hooded figure suddenly stopped, turning to him with an intense look in his eyes. “Who are you?”

“My name is Balthazar,” said the crab, as his friends caught up behind him.

The man pulled his scarf down, and a small hint of a smile appeared on his face.

“We have been expecting you. Come with me.”