Daniel Newwyn
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[I am a Table] Chapter 21
🕑 Added 2025-02-25 00:37:07 +0000 UTCThe morning sun spilled lazily across the market square. It didn’t seem to ever rain in the Township of Iakesi, almost as if the town was set in a book and the author of said book just recycled scenery descriptions because he was too lazy to invent weather fluctuations.
“I heard Marza sold that Elviswood table for a fortune,” the woman in front of her said as her hand shuffled through the pile of cabbage, lowering her voice to a whisper full of intrigue.
“What? That table wasn’t even hers,” Lena mouthed. “Also that one is a good-tasting one. That one you’re holding.”
“If a table drops from the sky, destroys your stall, and no-one claims it, safe to say it’s yours,” the customer replied.
I’m more surprised by the fact that Master Bimbleton didn’t try to retrieve that table right away, Blorbo thought. Or maybe he was the buyer.
“Huh? And who paid a fortune for an angry table?” Lena asked.
“Oh, some eccentric noble in the capital,” the woman said, waving her hand dramatically. “But that’s not the interesting part.”
The woman leaned in, her excitement barely contained. “With all that gold, Marza went out and bought herself a carriage full of curly kale.”
Lena paused mid-hand gesture, and her eyes were filled with a fire of hatred. “Curly kale?!”
“A whole carriage.”
Lena blinked. “And then what?”
“She’s now the posh curly kale seller at the town bazaar.”
A moment of silence.
Lena finally exhaled through her nose, gritted her teeth, and shook her head. “You know, it’s ridiculous how kale is considered a luxury for the nobles, while cabbage is not.”
You grit your teeth at that, woman? You didn’t once grit your teeth throughout your entire argument with the old man last night!
Another round of useless kale-related chatter ensued, and the woman walked away. It was now the afternoon, and Blorbo had been waiting for that exciting encounter with the hooded mage with the funny accent that never came. He didn’t even set up shop today.
It had been a busy day. Customers had come and gone, the cabbage pile dwindled, and the market had buzzed with pointless kale-related discourse, but Blorbo remained deeply, deeply disappointed.
Lena never once pulled out the wand. Not once.
What was she so scared of? What was the worst that could happen?
At worst, she’d decorate the entire marketplace with piñatas and confetti explosions—and if anything, that would probably increase sales.
Instead, she’d spent the entire day selling cabbage like a responsible adult.
Boring.
By the time the market was quiet, with only a few stragglers wandering past, Lena finally reached into her pocket and pulled out the ridiculously tiny wand.
She held it in her palm, staring at it for the longest time as her thumb traced its absurdly small form.
Yes. Do it. Do something. Wreak havoc upon the world.
Then, a hand appeared on the table, atop the cabbages. A gloved hand—no, a double-gloved hand—no, wait…
He had four gloves on one hand again.
Lena looked up at him and blinked once.
“Ah-ha!” The four-gloved mage spread his arms wide. “You hold it at last!”
Blorbo’s wooden nerves bristled. Finally. Something interesting.
His silver-threaded eyes shone beneath the hood like lanterns. “Zere are many who would seek such a thing, cabbage mongress.” He tapped a finger to his temple, then pointed dramatically at her. “And you? You sit upon it like a dragon upon a hoard!”
Lena blinked. “I literally just took it out. What are you—”
“Silence!” He raised a single gloved hand. Then, for absolutely no reason at all, he removed that glove to reveal another glove.
Ah. Here we go again.
Lena rubbed her temples, already exhausted. "Okay, no. No. You keep showing up, talking in riddles, and layering yourself like an onion. Why do you care so much?"
The four-gloved mage gasped, clutching his own chest as though she had mortally wounded him. “Why do I—? Pourquoi?!” His voice wavered with theatrical devastation. “You wound me again, mongress! I am but a humble servant of fate! A mere conduit of destiny!”
Lena stared at him. The mage stared back.
She sighed. “Alright, then. Who are you really?”
Oooh! Who is he? Is he an archmage? I bet he’s an archmage.
The mage grinned, and his silver-threaded eyes glinted as if light travelled across his eyes. “Ah. You ask ze right question at last.” Then, in a tone heavy with the strain of immense and dreadful responsibilities, he declared, “I am a banker.”
Blorbo had never been more disappointed in his life.
“... I can’t deal with this two days in a roll.” Lena ran a hand down her face.
A quest popped up on the mage’s head with the same comical timing as it’d always had. Blorbo checked the details.
[NEW QUEST: An Act of Petty Rebellion]
Objective: Steal a glove from the hands of the Keeper of Arcane Liquidity.
Reward: +2 AGI, +1 CP, and a Beginner-level Glove.
Prerequisite: None.
Failure: None.
Accept: Yes/No
Damn. This quest sucks!
Suddenly, something showed up.
[Would you like a reroll? Normally, this function costs 5 CP. But the first one is on the house.]
A reroll? The system gives second chances now? Also a reroll costs 5 times more CP than the potential reward. So much for risk-reward balances.
If he had been a more careful, strategic, forward-thinking table, he might have considered saving this free reroll for a more useful moment.
Hell yeah, I’m rerolling.
He willed Yes without hesitation.
The quest blinked out of existence, only to be immediately replaced by another.
[NEW QUEST: The Grand Glove Gambit]
Objective: Steal ALL of the Keeper of Arcane Liquidity’s gloves.
Reward: +3 AGI, +2 CP, and a Beginner-level Glove
Prerequisite: None.
Failure: He puts on more gloves.
Accept: Yes/No
Blorbo internally screamed. WHY DID I THINK THIS WOULD BE ANY BETTER?
He chose No. Only then did his perception kicked in, and he refocused just in time to catch the end of the conversation.
“I will train in the ways of Arcane Liquidity,” Lena said with a steely resolve.
Wait. What? What did I miss?
“Ah! Exzellent!” The four-gloved mage clapped his hands together, and the fabric made a soft, muffled fwump. “You are making ze right choice, mongress! We start tomorrow at dawn!”
“… Tomorrow?” Lena frowned. “I never said—”
But the mage had glided away again.
Lena slapped her forehead. “How am I going to explain to Rob that I don’t need a cart of cabbage tomorrow?”
Don’t explain to him. Explain to me. Explain to me! What the hell did you do, Lena? WHAT DID YOU DO!
How did you go from cabbage seller to banker of the magical realm?
