Anders grumbled as he stormed forward, “This is nonsensical. A table duel? I will not participate in any snobby noble tradition!”

  However, before Anders could take another step, the five guards surrounding the room, who had been standing silently like well-choreographed statues, sprang into action and blocked his

  path.

  “Move out of my way, muppetty puppets!” the old man snarled, but the guards didn't budge an inch.

  Bimbleton said, “No need for such abrasiveness, Mr. Woodywise. My dear friend, let’s not forget that the choice of whether to disclose any information lies squarely with me. Now, if you really want to know where your knives are, I suggest you reconsider your approach.”

  Lena shot a gnce at Rob, who was already running a hand through his hair. He heaved a sigh. “Let’s duel, then.”

  The butler stepped forward and cleared his throat before reading from a piece of parchment he’d been holding, “We shall proceed with the most simplistic of duels—The Table Joust. The rules are simple, as is tradition in these matters. The duel will take pce over five rounds. Both tables will be pushed along a specially designed, semi-slippery surface.” He paused before continuing. The goal is to push the opposing table into submission, causing it to falter, break, or otherwise lose its fighting ability. Should a table be destroyed beyond capability to continue—whether it cracks, splinters, or simply ceases to function—it will be disqualified. If the table is deemed incapable of moving or if its structure is compromised in a way that it can no longer participate, it is immediately out of the competition. As for the rest,” he continued, “we measure the condition of the tables by the end of each round and tabute the score.”

  Heh, tabute.

  The butler cleared his throat again, this time with a slight flourish. “Ah yes, I nearly forgot the finer details. Each round will be scored on a scale of one to ten. Points will be awarded based on two key factors: the power of the strike and the fir with which it is executed. A powerful strike that sends your opponent’s table reeling will earn you points, of course. But an expertly executed joust, one that dispys both strength and elegance, will earn you extra consideration. A strike that combines both grace and power is sure to impress the judges, as it demonstrates mastery not only of the physicality but of the art of table dueling.”

  Blorbo felt dread. This was no ordinary duel. This is stupid. What if the handlers injure themselves? What are the rules for that?

  But duelists cared not for their own safety. Jousting was hardly any safer, so was wagon racing.

  “I trust you will referee this duel in the most just and fair manner, as always,” Bimbleton interjected, smooth but commanding. “After all, we wouldn’t want any... misunderstandings, would we?”

  That sounds awfully like they’re totally going to rig the results.

  The butler nodded with a polite bow as he folded the parchment and pced it back into his jacket. “Of course, Master Bimbleton. Rest assured, I will uphold the highest standards of impartiality.”

  Then he smiled at Bimbleton. It was so subtle, so fleeting, yet his extraordinary PER: 15 could sense it!

  They’re definitely rigging the results. I’m done for.

  The servants began to carry the obsidian table, lifting it over their heads. Rob and Lena, on the other hand, were tasked with transporting Blorbo. Lena was particurly careful with him, and even gave him little pats as if he was a pet that needed reassuring.

  They reached the room designed specifically for such barbaric events. It was a long and narrow space that was not much wider than a corridor. On the surface was a thin yer of oil slick carefully applied across polished marble tiles. The oil didn’t pool, but it shimmered faintly beneath the glow of the chandelier overhead.

  The servants carefully set down the obsidian table on one side, and Rob and Lena pced Blorbo at the opposite end.

  "Are you ready for this?" Lena whispered to Blorbo. “I know you’re always ready, you little warrior.”

  No! If I have legs, I’d have already fled this cursed pce!

  “Well then,” the butler said, giving a nod of approval, “Shall we start the challenge?”

  The first round was about to begin. Bimbleton and Rob stood by their respective tables, waiting for the signal. Lena turned to Rob and whispered her instructions. “Darling. You should just push the table with strength, pin down the side a bit so it flicks in the air. Hopefully, we’ll dodge the other table and win style points.”

  Rob shook his head. “That’s too risky. Bimbleton will use everything he’s got. If we can’t get the table fully airborne, we’ll break a leg. Trust me.”

  Yeah Robbie boy, I trust you more than I trust the woman who bet my legs away.

  As the duel began, Bimbleton immediately smmed his obsidian table forward like a battering ram. “Watch my skill!” He roared. “Almighty Push!”

  His table rocketed across the room like a cannonball with a side of destruction.

  Aaah! Hell nah! Save me, Rob. Robbie! Do something. Robbie boyyyyy! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!

  Rob nudged the table to the side, gently tapping the edge as Blorbo leaned to avoid the incoming collision. Blorbo touched the side of the wall with a weakling thud.

  Then the obsidian table bsted past it. The force of the wind alone wobbled Blorbo, even though the two didn’t connect.

  The table travelled so fast, it nearly smashed into the door on the far side of the room. The only thing that stopped it was a strategically pced patch of sandpaper near the door, designed to slow down runaway tables.

  I almost died there! I would’ve gotten ripped in half if Rob had listened to Lena!

  The butler immediately scribbled down on his notes to tally the scores before turning to Rob. “Rob, I’ve given you a score of 2. A light tap hardly qualifies as a proper strike.” He then turned to Bimbleton with a grin. “As for Master Bimbleton, I’m awarding him a 4. His push was strong, direct, and purposeful. The table was set on a perfect, unyielding line.”

  [CURRENT TALLY]

  Rob/Lena: 2

  Bimbleton: 4

  Anders jumped. “What? How does that make sense? He’s out of bounds! The table flew across the room!”

  The butler was unphased. “There is no rule against that, as long as the table didn’t damage itself. It was a good push, as all can see.”

  Lena protested. “That was way too much force! He could’ve hit me had I not been against the wall!”

  “I’m afraid what happens outside of bounds is not within the rules of the game, miss,” the butler replied nonchantly.

  I knew it! The tabuted results are rigged! RIGGED! I WILL SAY IT THE FIFTH TIME! RIGGED! No way I can win with points!

  Anders muttered, “If only I can bst their smug smiles off their faces…”

  “Duelists, please prepare for Round 2,” the butler announced.

  Rob’s shoulders slumped as he put his hands against Blorbo. “We cannot win.”

  RIGGED!

  NameBlorboRaceAnimated Furniture (Table)CssNoneLevel2EXP38/50HP19/20MP2CP6STR11END16AGI19PER15SkillsAppraisal (Level 1)

  Adjustable Angle (2 Degrees)

  Opportunity Sense (Level 1)

  Surface Agitation (Level 1)

  Synchronized Sitting (Level 1)

  Forked Tongue (Level 1)

  Massive Leap Under Duress (Conditional)

  Retribution Counter (Level 1)

  AuraUseless Gloved Fool (Permanent)

  InventoryA Pair of Wooden-Colored Socks