“Good morning, Mr. Balthazar, and welcome back to our town!” the grinning guard shouted as he waved frantically at the crab and baker passing through the main gates.

The man was leaning so much out of the window on the side of the watch tower that Balthazar worried he would plummet to the ground below at any moment, like an inexperienced wizard carelessly casting levitation for the first time.

“Errm, yes, thank you… uhh… Quincy,” the merchant said awkwardly while skittering faster forward to break eye contact.

As he and the girl moved past the portcullis, Balthazar could still hear the excited man talking to another guard next to him.

“Did you see that?” Quentin said. “The merchant crab almost remembered my name right!”

“I see you’ve been making friends even among the guards,” Madeleine said with a smile. “Aren’t you the popular crab!”

The crustacean shrugged his shell.

“To be honest, I’m not even sure if that guy is the same guard from all the other times, or if this town just has a bunch of soldiers that all look exactly the same to me.”

The baker shook her head and laughed at her friend’s crabby silliness as they stepped back out under the morning sunlight bathing the gateway street of Ardville.

It had snowed during the night, but the day brought a clear blue sky with a pleasant, golden sun that warmed the skin—or chitin—with its gentle touch. The snow that blanketed the roads and clung to the slanted roofs glistened under the morning light, its surface slowly melting into dew-like beads of water that trickled down in shimmering streams that reminded the crab of his pond’s waterfall during the spring.

With a sigh, Balthazar pulled his blue wool winter hat closer to his eyestalks. Despite the sun, the air was still chilly, and anywhere he looked, the crab saw townsfolk wearing thick coats, scarves, and all manner of clothing meant to combat the cold as they got on with their morning routines.

I should try to trade more animal furs from adventurers. I bet they’d sell for a fortune to all these soft-skins at this time of the year.

His eyestalks rolled around, taking in the sight of the houses and other buildings that lined the streets ahead of them.

It was only the second time Balthazar visited Ardville, but somehow, everything felt smaller and less daunting this time around.

He was no longer that shut-in crab walking into a human settlement for the first time after spending his whole life around the same pond. He had seen things, been to places, and met people. He was a well-traveled merchant now.

Yet, Ardville still felt quaint and pleasant. Unlike a bigger city like Marquessa, Madeleine’s hometown was less busy, with fewer people bustling and elbowing each other through the streets. The buildings were also not as tall or packed together, and were built in a more rustic way.

Perhaps it was also the way the town looked this time of year. The last time Balthazar had visited Ardville, autumn had only just begun. Now, with blankets of snow draped over every rooftop and road, the place looked somehow more natural in the crab’s eyes—as though nature had quietly reclaimed a share of its domain.

Still not as good as his pond, of course, but tolerable enough to visit.

“From what Rye told me,” said Madeleine, “you didn’t get to stay long the first time you visited Ardville, but you still made quite the impression.”

“Urgh, Taffy,” said the crab, rolling his eyestalks as he remembered his first time in the town. “That kid forced us to run out of town through a sewer! I’m just glad he’s not around here anymore to ruin my second visit.”

The baker shook her head and smiled. “Well, I’m sure you didn’t get to see much, so there are a bunch of places I’d like to—”

“Oh!” Balthazar suddenly exclaimed. “Wait! There is one place I remember and want to visit again!”

Breaking into a hurried skitter with his backpack bouncing from side to side behind him, the crab excitedly made his way through the street he remembered taking last time to get to the town market.

“Hey! Wait for me, you eight-legged menace!” Madeleine shouted, sprinting off after her friend.

As Balthazar exited the main street into the town square, he found the market already waking. Here and there he saw merchants brushing snow from their stalls, or bringing out their wares onto their stands as the air filled with the soft hum of voices and the comforting jingle of coins trading hands.

To his right, he saw wooden carts creaking as they were pushed into place, their wheels crunching over the slush covering the roads that had not been cleared of snow yet. To his left, a few bundled townsfolk lingered by steaming pots, their laughter misting in the cold air as they shared a hot stew before a hard day of work.

As he stepped into the square, legs sinking into the thin layer of snow, a gentle warmth seemed to rise from the life around him—it was the quiet, cheerful pulse of a town shaking off the cold and beginning its day.

But Balthazar had one very clear objective in mind for how he wanted to start his day—freshly baked bread.

Navigating through the rows of market stalls and the mounds of shoveled snow that lined the market square, the crab did his best to retrace his steps to his destination.

“This was so much easier when I was just following the nice smell of baked goods!” he muttered as he skittered on.

Thankfully for the merchant, his eye for business came in handy on his pursuit as each trader and stand he passed helped him narrow down his search.

He knew he had seen a stand covered in carpets and tapestries last time, so that meant he was on the right path.

Then he spotted the same man selling spices held in big clay pots. He remembered thinking his display was most unwise—a well-placed gust of wind would blow away a third of his stock!

Shortly after, he found a lady selling potted plants, which meant he had to be almost at the stand he actually wanted. He still did not understand why anyone would want to buy flowers or plants when you can just step anywhere in the wild and pick them from the ground for free.

“And here it… is?” Balthazar said as he turned a corner.

In front of him, the crab found an empty market stall, with some dust and a few cobwebs that showed signs of abandon.

“Oof, there you are!” exclaimed Madeleine as she skidded to a stop next to her crustacean friend. “Where did you want to go in such a hurry?”

“Here.”

The young woman looked at the unoccupied wooden stand in front of them, and then down at the giant crab, his smile turned into an expression of mild annoyance and his shell slightly slumped.

“Were you expecting something to be here?”

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“Yes!” the crab exclaimed, throwing his pincers up. “Last time I was here, there was a man behind this stall, selling a different kind of baking from yours. They were these loaves of golden brown… stuff that was slightly toasty and crunchy on the outside, but white and soft on the inside, and they weren’t sweet either.”

“You mean bread?” the girl said, with an eyebrow cocked at the crustacean.

“Yes! You know what it is!”

“Why would I not know what bread is?!”

“Anyway,” Balthazar continued, “he’s not here anymore, and I was hoping to eat some bread again. Bummer.”

Madeleine looked at the stall for a moment while rubbing her chin in thought.

“I think I remember there being a man who made bread around here before, yes. We didn’t cross paths often, since I used to stay on the opposite side of the market, and I’m pretty sure his house was also on the complete opposite end of town from my neighborhood.”

The crab shrugged. “Maybe he moved somewhere else?”

“It could be,” the young woman said. “Darn, I could swear I knew his name, but I can’t remember it right now.”

“Don’t bother,” Balthazar said, waving a dismissive pincer. “I never asked his name, and even if you remembered it, I probably would forget it by tomorrow.”

Turning in place, the merchant looked for the closest market stand with someone already behind it.

“Excuse me,” the crab said, approaching a woman who was rearranging a basket of fruit in front of her stall.

“Hello, deary,” she greeted, turning around and facing Balthazar without so much as batting an eye at the fact that she was talking to a crab. “Would you like to buy an apple?”

“No, thanks,” the eight-legged merchant said. “Would you happen to know what happened to the man who used to sell on this stall back in the summer?”

“Oh, the bread baker?” the lady replied with a smile. “He just closed his business down one day and took off to travel. Not sure where to, though. People say they saw him leave through the main gate one morning with a bag and a strange golden blade strapped to his waist.”

“Hah! I sold him that useless sword!” the crab said to his friend.

“Do you remember what his name was?” Madeleine asked the other woman.

The fruit seller paused, thought for a moment, and then frowned slightly.

“I actually don’t. I must really be getting old, if I already forgot someone’s name after just a few months without seeing them.”

The lady laughed and Madeleine smiled back at her. “Ah, well, thanks for your help anyway.”

“No problem, dear. Would you like to buy an apple?”

“Still a no!” the crab quickly interjected, while guiding the baker away. “You need to work on your sales pitch, by the way!”

As the crab and the girl walked away, Madeleine’s brow remained furrowed in thought.

“It’s really bugging me that I can’t remember what he was called.”

“Leave it alone, girl,” Balthazar said. “Do like me. I can rarely remember the names of most of the random humans I encounter every day, so I just refer to them internally as whatever I associate them with.”

The merchant turned around and looked at the empty stall.

“I remember that guy mentioned how he dreamed of being a knight when he was younger, but ended up settling for being a bread maker. Then I sold him a cheap sword with an even cheaper enchantment.” The crab paused and chuckled. “Haha, I know! I shall name him… The Bread Knight!”

The young woman looked down at him with a frown, but her lips betrayed the smile she was holding back.

“What?” the grinning crustacean said, looking up at her. “It suits him! I hope the brave Bread Knight is out there, valiantly protecting the land from all manner of bready dangers, and delivering toasty justice to the undercooked!”

The flimsy dam broke and laughter came out of the girl’s mouth as she looked away and shook her head.

“You silly thing. You could have just asked me before, I can try to make you some bread later. It’s not really my specialty, so I can’t promise you it will be as good, but I will give my best.”

The crab smiled from eyestalk to eyestalk. “That would be great! My mouth is already watering just thinking about it!”

“Pretty sure your mouth is always watering, Balthazar,” Madeleine replied. “Oh! That reminds me! I wanted to take you to try something before you bolted away from me.”

Without giving the crab time to even start his question, the girl turned around and ran off into the maze of market stalls.

“Give me just a minute, I’ll be right back!”

“Hey! Wait for me, you two-legged menace!” Balthazar shouted, trying to skitter after his friend.

Unfortunately, Ardville’s market wasn’t conceived with the mobility limitations of giant crabs in mind, which meant he couldn’t fit in the space between some stalls as well as the slender girl.

After losing sight of her bouncing blonde braid in a crowd, Balthazar spent a couple of minutes wandering around looking for her.

Moving through the market corridors with his backpack tightly pressed against his carapace, the merchant took in his surroundings more closely.

He could tell the townsfolk were eyeing him, but thankfully, not in a threatening way—or a way that implied they found him threatening.

He found it made sense. By now, most people in Ardville already knew about the famous merchant crab who lived down the road from their town. Most had just never actually seen him, so their indiscreet stares and quiet whispers were likely from the shock of seeing him wandering around their streets.

Like seeing someone famous and being starstruck.

His first instinct was to feel annoyed and uncomfortable about the attention, but then his business side felt it was more than deserved. He was a great merchant, and people pointing and chatting about him meant free publicity.

And the crab loved getting things for free.

“Hey, Balthazar! Over here!” Madeleine’s voice called from behind him.

He turned to find the girl emerging from a small crowd of workers hauling boxes across the market. In her hand, she carried a cone of paper, a soft mist escaping from within it, hinting at the warmth it held.

“There you are!” said the crab. “What you got there?”

“Something I want you to try,” the smiling baker replied. “I thought about bringing some down to your pond, but then they wouldn’t still be warm by the time I got there. And they are soooo much better while hot!”

Cocking an eyestalk, Balthazar watched as she took a round thing from the paper cone. It had a dark brown shell, which was cracked down the middle and partially covered in fine white ash.

“What kind of pastry is that?!” the puzzled crustacean asked.

“It’s not a pastry, you silly crab. It’s a roasted chestnut!”

She cracked the shell between her fingers, scattering tiny flakes of brown husk to reveal a golden, steaming morsel within. Once freed from its brittle casing, the girl opened her palm to the crab, offering the warm chestnut to him.

With eyestalks stretched up and eyes wide, Balthazar eyed the food being offered to him.

“Is it like the nuts you use in my pies?”

“Not quite, but it’s still really good.”

“Why is it roasted instead of baked?”

“That’s just how you cook these.”

“Is it sweet?”

“Not really. You don’t put sugar on them, just a handful of salt while they roast over the hot coals.”

Balthazar’s eyestalks curved inward as he eyed the chestnut with suspicion.

“Will you take it off my hand already, you stubborn crab?! It’s hot!” Madeleine finally exclaimed, startling the crab.

“Alright, alright!” the merchant said, carefully grabbing the steaming morsel with the tips of his pincers.

Tentatively, the crab broke a tiny piece of chestnut off with the tip of his pincer. It was surprisingly soft and crumbly for what he expected from a nut.

Bringing it into his mouth, Balthazar took a hesitant nibble.

It was tender and warm, its texture reminding him vaguely of the baked potato Druma once made for him over a campfire next to the pond, long before they had a proper roof over their heads.

He looked down at the pale golden chestnut in his pincers, with its faint darker seams where the heat had split it, before taking another, more ambitious nibble at it.

It was nothing like a pastry, and certainly not like any fish either, but the crab found something about the rich, warm feeling when biting into it, as well as its subtle and earthy taste, quite comforting in that cold morning.

“This is not bad at all,” said the merchant as he chewed.

“I was hoping you’d like them!” Madeleine said, smiling while still holding the paper cone in her hands for warmth.

“You’re not going to eat any?” Balthazar asked as he tossed the rest of the chestnut into his mouth and started happily chewing it.

“No, these are for someone else we’re going to go visit next!” the giddy baker said, pressing the warm pack of chestnuts closer to her chest.

“Oh, and who’s that?”

“I want to introduce you to my grandma!”

A piece of chestnut went down the wrong crab pipe upon hearing the girl’s words, and he let out a choked, panicked cough.

“What?!”