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The grizzly man retrieved a measuring tape and calmly made his way to one corner of the platform.

“You know,” the old pipe smoker said to the crab, “if you keep doing that, you’re going to drill a hole into the wood. Wouldn’t want to compromise the structural integrity of your floor now, would you?”

“Bah!” Balthazar exclaimed, starting to pace back and forth. “I shouldn’t have sent a drunk into town with a bunch of my money. What was I thinking? What if he never even comes back?”

“Crab,” the carpenter said, as he crouched down with difficulty and stuck the tip of his measuring tape to the corner of a floorboard, “he left only a few minutes ago. You need to calm yourself.”

“You don’t get it,” the distressed merchant said. “I gave him a pouch with 50 gold. He’s surely going straight to the first tavern he sees to drink it all away! He’s not even going to remember the list of supplies you gave him anymore. He probably already used it to wipe his lips after downing the second or third bottle.”

“I think you should give the fella a bit more credit than that,” said John as he stood up and stretched himself with a hand pressed against his lower back. “He strikes me as the honest type underneath all the booze. Besides, is 50 gold really going to set you back so much that it’s worth all that worry?”

Balthazar sighed as he watched the man leisurely walk his way to the opposite corner of the trading post, measuring tape stretching behind him.

“I’m sure you find him to be very convincing, yes,” the crab said, “but that’s probably just his natural charisma in action.”

“Don’t know about that,” the man said, while bringing the tape down on the end of the floor’s corner. “I heard a lot about the charismatic golden crab down by the pond outside of town, and as far as I’m concerned, the jury is still out on whether you’re the trustworthy kind.”

“A bit harsh,” Balthazar said, “but I’ll let it slide.”

“You need to learn to quiet your mind, fella. It does you no good to worry so much over things you can’t do nothing about.” He looked down at the number on the tape and took his pencil from behind his ear. “Mind passing me that piece of paper?”

“What? This?” asked the crab, pointing to the man’s notes next to the toolbox.

“Yep. That’s the one.”

Balthazar grabbed the paper and skittered across the platform to give it to the man. “Here you go.”

“Much obliged,” John said, jotting down the measurements on the paper.

“But yes, like I was saying,” the upset merchant continued, “how am I supposed to be sure a drunk isn’t—”

“Can you do me a favor?” the old man interrupted. “Can you unhook the tape on the other end over there? These old knees aren’t made for bending up and down anymore.”

“I… yes, sure,” Balthazar agreed, rolling his eyes as he walked back across the trading post to the opposite corner. “Just unhook and let it go, right?”

“That’s right.”

The crab flicked the tape with the tip of his pincer and watched it retract towards the man while walking back in the same direction.

“So, point being,” Balthazar tried saying again, “could I really—”

“My, my. Quite the damage you got here,” John interrupted once more.

The carpenter was looking at the area where the tree trunk had previously fallen and broken the fence, as well as damaged some floorboards.

“How did you manage to do this?” the man asked.

Balthazar sighed. Both because he did not like to be interrupted while doing one of his favorite activities—talking—and also because that area and the events behind it were still a sore spot for him.

“It was before I decided to hire a proper professional to do the roof,” the crab muttered between his mouth parts. “One of the big tree trunks over there fell down and crashed through it.”

“Mhmm. Going to need to replace the railing here. Can’t have someone falling off from here now, can we? And this floor needs patching up. Someone might lose a boot to that.”

“Sure, but as I was…”

“Be a pal and pass me that level over there, will you, youngster?”

Balthazar scrunched up his mouth as he turned to the toolbox and grabbed the level tool sitting at the top.

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“There’s your level.”

“Appreciate it,” John said, as he received the tool and carefully placed it on top of the wooden fence. “Ah, there it is, just as I thought. Your goblin fella made a good effort, for a novice, but this railing is not entirely straight.”

“Really? It looks fine to me,” the merchant said, eyeing the top of the guardrail. “Maybe a little crooked, but I think it’s fine.”

“Yes,” said the woodworker with a chuckle. “I’m sure you do.”

“What’s so funny?” the grumpy crab asked.

“Not a thing,” the grizzly old man answered, still smiling to himself.

The crab wasn’t sure what was amusing the old man so much. He was certainly a strange one. Not necessarily in a bad way, but Balthazar couldn’t quite figure him out yet.

“Anyway, where was I?” Balthazar said.

“Right here.” The carpenter pointed to a cracked floorboard underneath them. “This is as far as this floor needs replacing. I’ll probably fix up the fence and the floor before I start on the roof. Make sure the whole thing is done right.”

“Oh, well, that’d be nice, but will probably raise the cost of the whole project,” the crab said. “Which reminds me, we still haven’t discussed the budget.”

“Don’t you worry, I won’t charge you any extra beyond the original price for the roof.”

“That’s great and all, but… we still haven’t determined what the original price for the roof is going to be.”

“Paaaaaarrrrrtner!”

Balthazar recoiled as he heard Tristan’s voice yelling from the entrance.

“I have returned!” the drunkard announced, still sounding happily drunk.

“Go on,” John said, while adjusting his smoking pipe into the corner of his mouth and rolling up his sleeves. “I’ll get started on patching this up while you make sure our errand boy didn’t spend your precious gold on the wrong screws.”

Begrudgingly, the crab turned around and made his way across the platform.

He almost didn’t want to find out what Tristan had done with the money. How likely would it be that a drunk, when given a pouch of gold coins, would go and buy carpentry supplies instead of wasting them all away on getting more drunk?

As it would seem, not that unlikely.

Stumbling his way into the trading post, the former merchant placed the wooden box he was carrying in his arms on the nearest table he could find. Inside it Balthazar could spot not bottles, but actual hardware supplies.

“You… you actually got the stuff?” the incredulous crab asked.

“Course I did, partner!” Tristan proudly answered, a big smug grin on his red face. “I told you I was, hic, good for it.”

Balthazar wasn’t sure what he found more unbelievable, the fact that he had actually gone into town and used the gold to purchase the instructed supplies, or that, even after all those hours, he was still as inebriated as he was.

“And you’re sure you got everything?” Balthazar asked, still trying to cling to the belief that it was all too good to be believed.

“Sure did!” the drunk said, reaching into his vest’s pocket and pulling out the list John had made. “At first I thought the gold you gave me wasn’t going to be enough for everything, but then I realized… heh… I was seeing double, so I only needed half of the things I thought.”

The crab looked at the giggling drunkard with skepticism.

“Let me see that,” he said, snatching the list from the other’s hand.

“It’s all there. I checked thrice!” Tristan said, while holding up two fingers.

“Nails… check. Wooden screws… check,” Balthazar murmured, as his eyes went back and forth between the list and the contents of the box. “Wood glue… check. I can’t believe it. It really is all here. Even the right size of dowels for the butt joints.”

“Heh, you said butt,” the drunk man-child mumbled between chortles.

“But there’s no way this all came down to exactly 50 gold,” the baffled merchant said. “Come on, admit it. You pocketed the rest and went to the tavern, didn’t you?”

“Nope!” Tristan answered, shoving a hand into his jacket’s pocket and retrieving a crumpled up piece of paper. “Here is the receipt. It all came down to 39 gold. And here is the remaining 11 gold. Hic

!”

Balthazar received the paper with his left pincer and the coin pouch with the right, his mouth slightly ajar, his eyes still in disbelief at everything he’d just witnessed.

Tristan had to be the most odd drunk the crab had ever met. And he had met a drunk giant before.

“So,” the disheveled man started, combing his graying blond hair back with a hand, “do you believe I’m a proper business partner now?”

The crab looked back and forth, left and right, arguments eluding him.

“Well, you’re still a drunk and a mess! Not exactly a great business look.”

“Pfah! Nonsense! It adds to the charm. I’m telling you, everybody loves me even more when I’m drunk.”

“Not everybody,” Balthazar muttered. “But either way, even if you did manage to do this errand properly, that still doesn’t prove you’d be able to carry on my next move against Antoine properly.”

Tristan’s goofy expression hardened, and his brow furrowed.

“You give me the chance, just one chance,” he said, staring into the crab’s eyes, “and I’ll prove to you how much I want to get that son of a—”

“Alright, alright, I get it!” the crab hurriedly said. “If that’s true, then first I need you to do a little digging.”

“Ugh, really?” the man complained, his sudden focus apparently already gone. “That’s going to ruin my nails.”

“Metaphorical digging, you fool!”

“Oh, right, right. I suspected as much.”

“Like I was saying,” Balthazar continued, “I want you to go to Ardville and start digging into who owns spots at the market other than Antoine. Make a list of them and gather as much information as you can. Once you’ve gathered enough details, we can discuss our next move.”

“Hmm, alright, I can do that,” Tristan said, scratching his unshaven chin thoughtfully. “I think I still know someone who works at the registry office. And this will lead to striking Antoine in some way?”

“Sure. Sort of. In a way, eventually,” the crab said. “For now, focus on the job I’m giving you and leave the details to me. And before you leave, help me carry those supplies to John.”

Tristan picked up the box of items once again and followed the crustacean.

“He was just about to start fixing the… fence…”

Balthazar’s words trailed off as they approached the corner where John was working.

To the crab’s great surprise, the fence was already completely repaired, replaced with newer and stronger parts, and the floor was good as new, practically impossible to tell it had been ever damaged by a crashing tree trunk.

“How… how did you do all this while I was talking to Tristan?” the befuddled merchant asked.

“This? Not that hard to fix, really,” the handyman said, while wiping his hands and hairy arms with a rag, pipe still firmly stuck to the corner of his mouth. “Do something for enough years and you get the hang of how to do it right and fast.”

While not displeased with the results and the speed, Balthazar was still in disbelief at how quickly the old man had fixed the corner. Perhaps the drunk did bring him the best carpenter he would ever meet.

“Hey, by the way,” Tristan called from behind the crab, “I got all these supplies. Don’t I deserve a little sip of Babaurhum?”

“Oh, yes, of course you do,” said the golden crab, “which is why you had it right before leaving. You know, to strengthen you for the way up the road.”

“I did?” the puzzled man said, looking emptily at the floor. “Well, damn, I didn’t even remember.”

How easy it was to trick a drunk. Balthazar almost pitied Tristan, so easy to distract and misdirect. The crab was just thankful he was not as easily fooled. Nothing would ever go unnoticed and forgotten by him like that.

Not a thing.