Daniel Newwyn
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[I am a Table] Chapter 56
🕑 Added 2025-03-19 08:18:50 +0000 UTCBlorbo had no time to mourn the betrayal of the system, for he had already been hurled onto the wagon. The horse wheezed as Rob held the rein, and the wagon started moving. Their destination would be on the other side of town, toward the Barony of Luxden.
Lena kept her eyes on the road. “Are we sure this baron has something we need? I’d rather not have to interact with another snobby noble, if possible.”
“Oh, without a doubt,” Anders said. “Baron Luthor Luxden is a known collector of rare and enchanted kitchenware. If anyone has an entire arsenal of premium knives, it’s him.”
“But you just found out he was a known collector of rare kitchenware ten minutes ago from the innkeeper’s mouth!” Lena objected.
“Doesn’t change the truth.”
Ducaz, still lounging in a place that was not Blorbo’s surface, stretched out in his usual form. “We also heard from the man that Luxden’s a paranoid shut-in. He won’t just let anyone waltz in. Even the noble types need an invitation, and that takes weeks to process.”
“Even if we hear it from the innkeeper, it doesn’t mean it’s fact…” Rob’s voice turned smaller toward the end.
“Well, we’ve got the literal circle from the sage on the map too, if you wanna complain about it,” Anders barked.
Blorbo barely registered the conversation around him. Something far more insidious gnawed at his mind. Something treacherous. Something vile.
[Consume (Level 1)]
He pulled up the skill description again.
Consume (Active Skill – Level 1): Allows the user to absorb food items upon contact. Does not grant sustenance or benefits unless specified.
Blorbo stared at it. He read it once. Twice. A third time, just to be sure.
Then he screamed. What the hell will this ever do for me?!
It didn’t let him taste. It didn’t let him gain energy. It didn’t even let him store food. It just made things disappear. He would gain nothing while the food owner would lose their food.
This wasn’t a skill. This was a tax on existence. A crime against nature. A net negative to society.
He pulled up his stats again.
CP: 21 (-1)
What was the purpose of this?! Was this some kind of twisted metaphor about capitalism?
Then he heard Ducaz’s voice as he stretched and yawned. “So, that’s all for the plan to break into a paranoid noble’s house?”
Anders nodded. “Obviously.”
Rob sighed. “Obviously.”
Wait. Seems like I’ve missed an important chunk of information again.
Also, wait. I’ve been wondering this one thing. He’d been accumulating useless skills after useless skills, but all of them were at Level 1. Did that mean if he were able to level up a skill, it would become less useless later on? Maybe a Consume Level 1 would let him gain temporary stats, or it would let him store food. There was no way to find out since if the System had an indexing system hidden anywhere, he hadn’t find it. He could only level up to see for himself.
He thought back to the reward of the Ducaz Appraisal sidequest. He would get an accelerated bonus on Appraisal levelling up progress upon completion, which meant it was likely that the skill levelled up based on repetition—constant practicing of said skills until one’d reached perfection for that level. Which would mean skills like Adjustable Angle can easily be upgraded. Meanwhile, Synchronized Sitting would not. But who cares about Synchronized Sitting?
Why haven’t I thought of this before?
“But I will not participate in a break in without a fair price,” Ducaz clapped once.
Anders cracked his neck as he leveled a glare at Ducaz. “I could reduce you to ashes where you stand.” His fingers twitched like he was ready to start weaving a spell.
Ducaz was unfazed. He leaned back against the wagon’s railing, arms crossed behind his head like he was lounging at a beach. “Well, if you could, you would have,” he said smoothly. “And yet, here we are. Besides, if you were capable of handling everything alone, why bring others along? Why use only Basic spells?”
Anders scowled, lips parting like he wanted to argue, but no words came. His jaw clenched, then unclenched. He grumbled something inaudible and turned away.
Rob sighed. “How much? Is five shillings fine?”
Ducaz brightened. “Ah, now we’re talking! My price starts at one silver, but since I’m fond of you lot, I’ll generously begin at a humble four hundred copper coins.”
Lena narrowed her eyes. “That’s the same as one silver.”
“It’s not, though. That one-hundred coin could’ve been used as insurance so I could prepare my own coffin once I’m caught. Think about it, guys. I’m risking my life for you here.”
Lena cracked her knuckles. “Three hundred.”
Ducaz gasped, clutching his chest like she had personally stabbed him. “Three hundred?! My dear cabbage princess, are you trying to starve me? What am I supposed to eat with that? Air and disappointment?”
Lena folded her arms. “You ate half the inn’s sausage stock last night. You’ll live.”
Ducaz scoffed. “That was yesterday. I live in the present, Lena.”
“Two eighty.”
“Three seventy-five.”
Lena clicked her tongue. “Three seventy-five? What, are you charging us extra for the privilege of hearing your nonsense?”
Ducaz waved dramatically. “No, that’s the charisma tax. A premium service, might I add. Without me, this trip would have been, by the Lords, boring.”
He’s got a point.
Lena huffed. “Fine. Two seventy. That’s how much your charisma is worth.”
Ducaz recoiled like she had just insulted his ancestors. “Two seventy?! Are you under the impression I want to get caught? Do you know how expensive a good escape plan is?”
Lena smirked. “You don’t have one.”
“That’s why I need the money to make one.”
Lena narrowed her eyes. “Two seventy-five.”
Ducaz tapped his chin. “Two seventy-nine.”
Lena jabbed a finger at him. “Two seventy-eight.”
Ducaz inhaled sharply through his teeth. “You drive a hard bargain, Lena Oakward.” He extended his hand with all the weight of a man agreeing to a lifetime of servitude. “Fine. Two seventy-eight.”
They shook on it.
Rob shook his head, swung the rein once, and sighed. “You two just haggled for five whole minutes over twenty-two shillings.” The horse started moving like a starved horse.
Anders grumbled, rubbing his temples. “I’ve killed men for less.”
Ducaz grinned. “Ah, but those men didn’t have negotiation skills.”
