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“Nonsense!” the girl said with great sass. “I’ve been in far worse places. Stop worrying so much, you old lobster.”

With her nose held high, the street urchin marched into the tavern as the scowling bouncer held the door open.

“Fine, but I’m still not a lobster…” muttered the crab as he stepped inside as well.

The door slammed shut behind them, making the crustacean jump in place.

“Do your business,” the doorkeeper said, “but remember our house rules: if you wanna fight, take it outside, and if you think you recognized someone you see here… you didn’t.”

“Alright then,” Balthazar said as he turned away.

The bouncer cleared his throat loudly. “Ahem!”

Glancing back, the crab saw him holding out his hand, palm up, and giving him a stern look.

“Don’t worry, Balthazar!” said Suze. “I still have something left from the bakery. I got this.”

Reaching into her pocket, the little girl retrieved a mint and placed it on the man’s palm with a big smile on her face.

“You’re welcome!” she proudly said with a nod, before turning away and grabbing the crab by the arm. “Let’s go!”

The pair left the bouncer behind as he stared down at his own hand with a bewildered look on his face.

“It’s fine,” Suze whispered to the merchant, “I don’t like peppermints anyway.”

As they stepped out of the entrance hall, the crab and the girl encountered a tavern lit by tin chandeliers on the ceiling and oil lanterns on the tables, giving it a moody ambience of secrecy and danger, reflected by the appearance of its patrons.

Men and a few women filled the place, some huddled up on their tables conversing in hushed tones, others drowning their sorrows over a tankard by the counter. Some turned their glances discreetly to the new arrivals, but nobody dared make any fuss.

Balthazar felt like no one in that place wanted to be noticed or to notice anyone. Which was problematic for the giant crab, as it was very difficult for him to go unnoticed.

Sometimes being so charismatic had its downsides.

Clutching his coin purse, the merchant leaned closer to the girl. “Are you sure we’re safe here?”

“From the guards? Oh yeah, for sure,” she replied before walking further into the room.

“Not sure if I like the fact you felt the need to specify just the guards,” Balthazar said, following her.

Rubbing her chin, Suze scanned the people in the tavern with little care for discretion.

“Maybe don’t make it so obvious? I don’t think these people appreciate being seen too much,” the crab whispered. “We’re supposed to find someone called Moe Fingers. Maybe I’ll go ask the guy at the counter while you—”

“It’s that guy over there,” the rascal declared, pointing at a figure sitting by a corner table on the other side of the tavern.

“What?!” the hushed crustacean said, trying to lower her arm as he looked around nervously. “You know him?”

“Nope,” she responded. “Never heard of him.”

“Then how do you know that’s him?”

“Pfft,” Suze scoffed. “Come on, look at him.”

The puzzled merchant followed her gaze toward the hooded figure across the room.

“Sitting in the corner, alone, nobody else near him, keeping his face hidden under a cowl, a single drink in front of him that he doesn’t even touch. This guy might as well have a big sign saying ‘secret connection’ above his head.”

“Huh…” the slightly impressed crab said, noticing how, for whatever reason, the table the man was sitting at even had a particularly brighter lantern hanging above him.

“Let’s go talk to him,” the street urchin said, pulling him behind her.

As they reached the mysterious figure’s table, he glanced discreetly at them from under his cowl without saying a word.

“Uh… hi,” Balthazar said awkwardly, realizing how little idea he had about what he was doing. “Are you Moe?”

The man under the hood spoke with a raspy voice. “Who’s asking?”

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Confused, the crab looked around.

“Well… I am. I know a talking crab isn’t exactly common, but surely you could tell it was me who asked, right?”

A quiet grunt came from under the cowl. “And who the hell are you?”

“Oh! Right. I’m Balthazar.”

“Don’t know no Balthazar,” the man said. “I ain’t got no business with you.”

The merchant frowned at the idea that someone wouldn’t know who he was. Simply preposterous.

Suze nudged the crab with her elbow to get his attention while giving him a disapproving glare.

“Ah, that’s right!” he said. “I was supposed to say a passphrase.”

The man shifted uncomfortably in his seat and grumbled quietly.

“Well?” the impatient girl muttered.

“Wait, I’m trying to remember what it was,” Balthazar said, vigorously rubbing the space between his eyestalks.

The kid rolled her eyes with a groan, a sound the crab could swear had also been echoed by the hooded figure.

“It was something about… gloves, maybe?” the merchant said. “Yeah, I think that was it. I really like your gloves, pal!”

The man sat motionless, his baffled stare apparent despite the cowl obscuring his face.

“Balthazar, he’s not even wearing any gloves!” Suze exclaimed with annoyed frustration.

“Oh…” said the crustacean, looking at the human’s hands. “My bad. What was it then…”

The crab racked his brain trying to remember the secret phrase Rob had given him to get in contact with the Thieves Guild. He was certain it had something to do with a type of apparel, one he himself was unable to equip. Gloves would have made sense. No gloves would ever fit his massive claws.

Argh! What was it?

The man at the table leaned back and signaled toward the bouncer.

“I think you got the wrong person. And the wrong place,” the hooded figure said as the doorkeeper approached. “Get them outta here.”

“Wait, wait! I know I can remember it if you just give me a moment!” said the merchant. “It was something about your… hat? Wait, no, you don’t have a hat either, damn it.”

“Alright, time to go, pipsqueaks,” the bouncer said, grabbing the crab by the backpack and the girl by the back of the collar.

“Hey! Lemme go!” yelled Suze, kicking and struggling as she tried to grab his hand.

“Hold on! I can’t go yet!” Balthazar exclaimed, gripping the edges of the table with his pincers. “I really need to talk to the Thieves Guild!”

The hooded man stood up as the table in front of him shook vigorously due to the crab’s struggle against the brute trying to pull him away.

“I don’t know nothing about that, stranger,” the scruffy man said. “There ain’t no Thieves Guild here.”

“Come on! I know you guys hang out here, I got it from a trustworthy source! I just can’t remember your stupid passphrase!” The bouncer pulled harder and Balthazar’s pincers slipped off the wet table. “I need to talk to your boss about the mango thieves!”

As the doorkeeper dragged the kid and the crab halfway across the room, the whole tavern now openly staring at the whole scene, someone came from the back, stepping in front of them.

“Hold on,” the black-clad man in front of the bouncer said. “Don’t kick them out yet. I want to talk to him.”

The tall brute cocked an eyebrow but obliged without hesitation, letting them both go. “If you’re sure…”

“Boots!” the crab exclaimed, standing back up. “I like your boots!”

The man in the cowl by the corner stared at the crustacean with a weirded out expression.

“I used to have a pair… just like… them,” Balthazar awkwardly finished, realizing the whole room was now staring at him.

“Never mind that, friend,” the patron who had intervened said, placing a hand on his shell. “I think we’re past passphrases now.”

The crab looked up at him while instinctively grasping his money bag again. He was a man with a dashing smile and a well-groomed black beard. His also black leather armor reminded Balthazar of what Rob used to wear before becoming a courier. Except the materials were much higher quality and it had multiple extra add-ons attached all over, such as extra pockets and small hooks.

“Nothing else to see here, fellas,” he said to the onlookers while pulling the girl and the crab to the back of the counter, away from the open view. “Just a crab who had a little too much to drink, haha.”

“I’m not drunk…” the merchant muttered with a scowl.

“So,” said the man. “I believe you said something about the mango thieves?”

“Yes, I… Wait. Are you Moe Fingers?” Balthazar said.

“Haha, no, that would be my charming friend over there that you were trying to talk to,” the dashing human said. “Good job spotting him out, even if you fumbled the passphrase part.”

“That was me!” exclaimed Suze. “The spotting, I mean. The fumble was all on Balthazar.”

“Ah, the famous merchant crab,” the dark-clad man said with a bright smile. “I’ve heard much about you, Mr. Balthazar.”

The crustacean frowned. “I still don’t know who you are.”

“I’m the one you seek,” he simply stated. “I believe we can help each other. Let us go talk somewhere more… private.”

The man signaled for them to follow him toward the back. Looking at each other and shrugging, the crab and the kid decided to just go along.

“I must say, big fan!” the human said, turning the corner into the back of the tavern. “The way you took down your guildmaster rival in your neck of the woods? Magnificent!”

“Uh… Thanks, mister…?” Balthazar said.

“You can just call me Clovis,” he said, stopping in front of what appeared to be a broom closet at the end of the narrow corridor.

With a pull, the man swung it open. Save for a bucket, there was nothing inside.

“Are you lost?” Suze asked.

“Nah, don’t worry, I’m not,” he told her with a wink.

Clovis ran his fingers across the back of the closet until a sudden click came from behind it. The panel slid to the side and the entire closet turned into a doorway.

“Ta-da!” he said with a grin.

“Oooh!” said the impressed little girl.

“Huh, not bad,” the crab said. “I gotta ask my carpenter for a closet like that.”

Entering the secret passage, the three of them continued through winding corridors full of twists and turns. Balthazar noticed how at every turn they were descending slightly below ground level.

“Not to be rude or anything,” the merchant continued. “But we came here seeking the Thieves Guild. Are you taking us to them?”

Clovis chuckled.

“My friend, you already found them,” he said as they arrived in front of a heavy steel door. “Or rather, I found you.”

The man in dark armor inserted a key into the door and multiple bolts slammed within it. As he pushed the door open, a blinding golden shine came from within, making Balthazar’s eyes widen.

“I am the guildmaster of the Marquessian Thieves Guild,” Clovis declared with a pearly white smile. “And I already know who you seek in your quest.”