Daniel Newwyn
patreon
[I am a Table] Chapter 39
🕑 Added 2025-03-03 22:22:03 +0000 UTCShop closed early, and since Rob now had a freaking wagon with him, he got to load Blorbo straight onto the back like a sack of potatoes.
Rob was never the most talkative man, and he grew even more quiet the closer to the temple he was. It was mostly Lena who did the talking, and it didn’t really matter since the woman was the kind to have a seamless free-flowing conversation with her pebbles.
They got to the Temple of Garniz, a temple with side-towers so tall it made the structure look like a pitchfork. The entrance was grand, flanked by colossal braziers filled with sacred Everflame—fire that, according to Lena who cited temple teachings, had never been extinguished since the first stone of the temple was laid. Not that they were magical flames or anything. Every two weeks, a robed attendant would step forward and pour a vial of shimmering oil into the flames. “Even the Blessing of Fires could only last so long,” Lena had said.
The Paladin God sure as heck sucks in this world.
As Rob stopped his wagon, Blorbo took a peek outside and see a steady stream of people moving through the temple grounds—some in quiet prayer, others conversing in hushed tones. The Temple of Garniz was, as Lena had put it, always attended, but never overcrowded. The flow of visitors was as constant as the Everflame, with only Enlightenment Day being the exception. Blorbo had no idea what that entailed, because Lena hadn’t elaborated.
Rob and Lena left the wagon to meet a man called Ducaz who was sitting underneath a palm tree. For three shillings, he would watch over their wagon, Blorbo included, while they were inside the temple.
“The keepers are already re-decorating the courtyard.” Lena’s gaze followed the barefoot men and women clad in white tunics. The fabric was light and flowing, woven with sunburst embroidery and kept in place by the gold-threaded sashes tied around their waists. “And there’s Herald Pranston. We need to get in-line before she realizes we’re running late!”
Unlike the keepers, whose attire was soft and humble, the heralds wore long, structured robes of deep gold, embroidered with intricate depictions of celestial rays. She even had a bronze circlet atop her head that made her look like a teapot lid.
And not the pretty kind, more like the kind Bimbleton would have on one of his ugly tables.
“You better. She discourages tardiness with the intensity of a tax collector who’s found a missing copper in your records,” Ducaz spoke as he yawned. “Three shillings to watch a wagon ain’t bad, but you know what would be better? Five.”
Lena raised a brow. “You literally just said three.”
He grinned, stretching lazily. “And you didn’t haggle, which means I didn’t start high enough.”
Rob tossed him the three shillings. “Just don’t touch the horse.”
Ducaz held up his hands in mock surrender. “Wouldn’t dream of it! Trust is the foundation of all business, after all.”
Lena muttered as they walked away, “I don’t think he and I have the same definition of trust.”
Lena and Rob joined the stream of people, and soon they disappeared into the temple.
Great. What am I going to do when these two are gone?
Ducaz rose from where he’d been sitting, cracked his knuckles, and let out a satisfied sigh. “A table. Makes it easier for me. Alright, time to put you to work, table.”
Huh? Have we even interacted before?
Ducaz dragged him off the wagon, flipped him upright, reached into his satchel and pulled out a gleaming, gold-trimmed bowl with the same patterns as the threads on the sashes that the keepers wore. Then, out of nowhere, he pulled out an entire outfit—a flowing white tunic embroidered with sunbursts, complete with a gold-threaded sash.
WHERE DID THAT EVEN COME FROM? Does this man have 1000 AGI or something?
Ducaz slipped into the attire with smooth efficiency, lapped his hands together and boomed in a reverent voice, “Brothers and sisters! The Temple of Garniz welcomes all who walk the path of light! Open your hearts, and let generosity guide your hands!”
He gestured grandly toward the bowl sitting atop Blorbo. “Donations to the temple’s cause shall be accepted here! Give freely, and may the Lords of Light bless you with abundance!”
This scammer. This highwayman in holy robes!
The moment he placed it on Blorbo’s surface—
[SIDEQUEST AVAILABLE—The Holy Hustle]
Objective: Earn Ducaz 100 shillings in “donations.”
Reward: 5 EXP, +2 PER, “Blessed Surface” Status Effect
Temporary Aura: “Sacred” Presence— When used as an altar, your presence becomes 17% more convincing. Duration: Until the Completion/Failure of the Quest.
Prerequisite: None.
Failure: Ducaz gets mad.
Wait. WAIT.
Blorbo stared at the bowl. Then at Ducaz. Then back at the bowl.
This charlatan is tricking the masses! You really want me to go along with such an immoral quest?! For a status effect? I don’t even know what status effects do!
The system dinged.
[Reward increased: 15 EXP, +3 PER, “Blessed Surface” Status Effect, a 50% Chance to Unlock a New Beginner-level Passive.]
Blorbo clicked ACCEPT without hesitation.
Heck yeah, gimme that money suckers! If they were gonna donate anyway, what did it matter which bowl it ended up in? What does the temple even do with donations?! Buy fancier sun embroidery? At least with Ducaz, I knew exactly where it was going—to his pockets. I respect that.
Ducaz gave the bowl a slight tilt, adjusting the angle for maximum coin visibility. “Alright, let’s make some money.” Then he bellowed. “Al-Shana-Manah! All praise the Lord!”
Ah-SHAKALAKA! ALL PRAISE THE LORD! GIMME MONEY! I have never felt more religious in my life.
An old woman walked by right as he bellowed, she glanced at Ducaz, then at the bowl. “Since when did they put a donation table outside the temple?” she muttered.
“Since now, sister!” Ducaz beamed, voice dripping with reverence. “The Lord of Light sees all generosity, no matter where it is given!”
The woman squinted. “Why does the Lord of Light sound like he’s about to sell me a used horse?”
Ducaz coughed into his sleeve. “Madam, your generosity will be noted in the celestial ledger.”
She dropped a single copper in the bowl, still glaring.
[Sidequest Progress: 1/100]
You penny-pinching old hag! One copper coin? ONE? What am I supposed to do with this? Buy half a rotten turnip? Try shoving that ONE single coin up your local butcher’s face and see what kind of food he serves you!
A man passed by and dropped 20 copper coins without a word.
[Sidequest Progress: 21/100]
May the Lord bless you, good Sir. You are a beacon of generosity, a paragon of virtue, a true connoisseur of wealth redistribution.
Ducaz thanked the man in a deeply appreciative voice, all the while tapping his finger on the table, whispering, “You and I make a good duo, mate. Let’s keep at this.”
