Blorbo checked the description of the skill now that it had levelled up.

  Synchronized Sitting (Level 2) — There’s a 25% chance you can will weak-willed or unsuspecting targets to sit down as someone else is sitting down. They will feel like they’ve sat down at the exact same time. There’s a 1% chance you can will a normal-willed person to sit down as someone else is sitting down.

  Wait. That’s significantly better. I can slow down my opponent’s advance as they charge at me, as long as they have the willpower of a cockroach. But where did the asterisk go?

  “That sleep-inducing spell. Where did you learn that?” The first thing Anders did after getting on the wagon was interrogating his daughter.

  “Huh?” Sitting across from Anders, Lena looked at him, wide-eyed.

  “Don’t act innocent. Where’d you learn that spell?” Anders placed his elbows on Blorbo.

  “You said I can learn spells by myself if I wish to!” Lena protested. “And I just saved us back then. You can cut me some slack from time to time, Dad.”

  “Oooh! Family drama.” Ducaz settled from a crate, pulled a wiener from his inner pocket, and started eating it. It looked suspiciously similar to the sausage from the Hogward Inn.

  Yeah, you tell him, Lena! You weren’t the one asking for intel about Silverleaf instead of a mansion. He pisses me off so hard.

  “I permitted you. But that spell… it is not a spell taught to Mages. At least not the incantation you’ve been taught.”

  “Then what class does it come from then?”

  Anders put his chin on his hands. “It comes from an evil, evil force of nature. Maniquists. They possess one of the darkest, most forbidden arts of all.” His facial expression darkened.

  “Which is?”

  “The cosmic power of animating furniture.”

  “... What.”

  What. What do you mean ‘animating furniture’? So you mean I’m not the only sentient table out there? There are more suffering this insane, unjust fate?

  Hah! Many people are as miserable as I am. I’m so happy!

  “I said what I said. They can basically turn furniture into brainless zombies. They can’t think, and especially, very important, don’t have sentience, but they are cold-blooded murderers designed to kill.”

  Oh. They’re non-sentient. Never mind. I’m so miserable.

  Anders continued with a harsher, more grating voice, “You should not seek out knowledge from a maniquist. The magic they learn is unregulated, untested, and volatile. You’ll end up harming yourself.”

  “Then who’s going to teach me then? You aren’t going to. He’s not going to.” Lena pointed at Ducaz. Then she pointed at Tabby. “He’s also not going to.”

  “Teach yourself if you’re serious about magic,” Anders grumbled. Ducaz snorted, and the old man turned to him in anger. “What’s so funny?”

  Ducaz leaned back against the wagon’s side, arms crossed, a smile tugging at his lips. “Oh, nothing. Just enjoying the irony of ‘don’t learn magic from shady weirdos’ coming from you of all people.”

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  It infuriated Blorbo that he couldn’t see the experience point accumulation for each skill. There was no way to know which skill he specialized in, and if repeated use of a skill led to proficiency in said skill at all. Sure, spamming Adjustable Angle had resulted in the skill levelling up, but it could just be a coincidence. Even if repetition led to proficiency, there might be more nuances to that. Maybe he couldn’t just activate skills randomly, but that skill had to contribute to quest progression or something. That might’ve been why Synchronized Sitting had been upgraded and not Surface Agitation.

  But it was all speculation at this point. The only way to try to confirm it was to progress a quest. And what were the ongoing quests he had again?

  He realized at the bottom of his status screen, there was a row he hadn’t seen before dedicated to ongoing quests. He clicked on it.

  Sell Anders a horse.

  That was not happening.

  Trial of Ascension.

  He didn’t even know what he had to begin to do.

  Learn about the Realm’s primary Magic System.

  He had completely zero agency in that. What was he to do? Spam Surface Agitation until a book with open pages slapped face-down on him?

  There didn’t seem to be anyone chasing after their wagon. The Knights probably didn’t know they were magic users, and the only person who knew—Investigator Klemens—was kicked in the head by a horse.

  The Legendary knives were not in the Baron of Luxeny’s estate. Anders complained about how mediocre and non-magical the kitchenware there were, and that the break-in would have been useless if it wasn’t for the information he’d rightfully asked for. They had a plan, and nothing went according to plan, yet the chaos of the First Lady’s poisoning had given Anders a chance to sneak in anyway.

  “Should we find Silverleaf first, or should we check out the underground ring first?” Lena asked as she traced Silverleaf’s summer house on the map. “The Sage didn’t give any indication of any silverware being in this specific location.”

  Anders snorted as his hands curled into fists. “Silverleaf. Silverleaf definitely smuggled them somewhere else. That’s what rich snobs do—they don’t get rich by being honest.” He kicked at the leg of the table, making the map rattle. “I’d bet he had the whole collection whisked away before we even set foot in Luxeny. Probably didn’t even know what he had, just saw the price tag and dumped it off to the highest bidder.”

  You don’t even know if he knew about the knives.

  As their wagon rumbled through the cobbled streets, they passed by the colossal bastion of the Knighthood’s primary base in Nokia. It was ugly. That was the only description for it. Also, it was big. Big and ugly.

  The guards stationed outside the Knighthood’s primary base in Nokia stood like statues, if statues could gossip. Their plate mail was a stark, gunmetal gray, with navy-blue surcoats bearing the emblem of a hog embroidered in silver thread. None of them carried weapons.

  One knight, standing slightly ahead of the others, was different. His armor was shiny, and the way he carried himself—feet planted firmly apart, shoulders squared—suggested authority, or at least a knight who took his duty more seriously than his peers. His piercing blue eyes tracked the wagon, then opened wide. Then he pulled out a halbert and approached them from ahead.

  What’s this guy trying to do pulling out a weapon like that?

  Rob stopped the wagon. As soon as he did, Anders’ growl came from inside. “What’s stopping you? We need to get to Silverleaf by nightfall!”

  “What seems to be the problem, sir?” Rob asked the Knight, keeping his voice steady and polite.

  Lena and Ducaz sat rigidly on the wagon’s bench, both of them doing their best not to look like people contemplating violence. They chanced a glance to the knight’s halberd, its wickedly sharp edge glinting in the light. Neither of them were stupid enough to start a fight in the middle of a crowded street, but that didn’t stop their bodies from coiling like springs, ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble.

  The knight’s face was the kind that made lesser men reconsider their life choices. A strong, angular jawline, shadowed by rough stubble, framed a mouth set in a firm, unsmiling line. Man looks terrifying.

  The knight leaned in, his sharp gaze raking over Rob’s face. A moment passed. No one said anything.

  Then, his expression shifted from chilling authority to sheer delight. “Robert. Is that you?”