I Am A Table [LitRPG Isekai Progression Fantasy]

One of the knights, who clearly wasn't the leader, shouted out a command anyway, "More men! Circle left!"

Another roared, "Don't let them flank!"

A group of three knights and one very confused horse darted away, heading toward the phantom echoes, blades drawn and expressions grim.

The rear guard narrowed his eyes at the curtain flap—but he saw nothing.

Because Anders was no longer there.

The old man, slipper-footed and somehow weightless, had already slipped through the side wagon window, rolled quietly into the dust below, and in a move that defied both physics and orthopedic logic, slunk behind the rearmost horse with the grace of a ninja librarian.

The rear guard scratched his neck. The horse twitched its tail once, unconcerned.

Anders crept on, blending into the lines of the convoy, his hands folded behind his back like he was out for a pleasant morning walk.

No one noticed.

A second after that, even Blorbo lost the man.

Where the hell is he now?

Within moments, Anders was back at the hilltop bush. He emerged from the tall grass like an ancient wizard ghost, robes entirely unruffled, her monocle still perfectly perched on the bridge of his nose.

[Stealth detection failed]

[-1 PER penalty]

What? Why deduct? Not my fault I can't detect the movement of an STEALTH ARCHMAGE.

"By the moons," Ducaz huffed as he stumbled back up the hill from his detour, "Please tell me we're done."

"We are," Anders said, calm as a spring breeze. "Fetch Ducaz and head back to town."

Ducaz squinted. "I am Ducaz."

"Then you know what to do." Anders turned to the rest. "I have all I need from Silverleaf," he said, brushing a leaf off his sleeve. "It's time to go."

Lena frowned. "What about the knife collection?"

"He didn't have it with him. Man sold it off to the highest bidder in the underground auction house. We should've gone there first."

OK, cool. Has the quest finished yet? When can I receive my reward?

[QUEST COMPLETED—A Keen Eye (4)]

REWARD: +5 PER

Thank you.

"Who's the bidder?" Lena asked.

"Some man with a hawk mask. That's not good. They are part of a sorcerers' guild that was too rubbish for me to remember the name of, which means they know real magic, but are very bad at it. I doubt they know the extent of the magic the blades can exude, nor do they know how to manifest it, but a trained mage should have no problem sensing magical aura. Either way, they're not letting the item go if we simply ask nicely."

"So who sold the knives to Silverleaf then? Is it Master Shifu?" Now it was Rob's turn to ask.

"He did not name a seller. He said he didn't know. Was an anonymous seller, pretty much," Anders spoke through gritted teeth, clenching his fist. "If only I can get my hands on that bastard Master Shifu…"

You literally just said it was an anonymous seller! Why is it still Shifu's fault?! Pick a lane, old man!

"Hate to interrupt your tense conversation," Ducaz shifted uncomfortably, slapping at his arm with a grimace. "But… can we have this talk somewhere that's not between the bushes? We're gonna get bitten by mosquitoes."

"Agreed," Lena said.

"Agreed," Rob said.

"Agreed," Griesa said.

Wait. Griesa?

[Stealth detection failed. PER not enough. You're just bad at this.]

Everyone turned toward her in unison.

Griesa stood there with a proud grin, arm mid-wave like she'd been doing it for a while. From the side of the dented keg she'd inexplicably dragged along, a mechanical hand extended with a creaky whirr—and gave a slow, enthusiastic wave of its own. She had also somehow found another monocle to wear despite Blorbo clearly seeing her dropping her last one into Anders' palms.

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"Mornin'! I got kicked out of the escort party," she said. The rat perched atop her patched-up hat mimicked the gesture of the mechanical hand with a tiny paw.

"Did you know she was here?" Lena turned to Anders.

"Yes. But I was in the middle of talking and I will not interrupt myself," Anders replied. "This brat can cause no harm. She can't even ride a horse."

Griesa fumed as she marched over. "Old man! I have yet to forgive you for…"

"Be nice, little lady, or we'll tell Marin you bullied us," Ducaz said.

Griesa stopped marching. She clasped her hands behind her back and smiled up at Anders, voice syrupy sweet. "Good morning, Mister old grumpy mage. Lovely weather we're having. Your robes look extra flowy today."

The rat straightened its posture and offered a polite tip of its invisible hat. Even the mechanical hand paused, then gave a gentlemanly little bow.

This woman is HOPELESS.

As Silverleaf's wagon disappeared from sight, the group began making their way down the hill. Griesa took the lead with a grumble about how she had been unfairly dismissed of her duty as a squire on the ground that she didn't know how to ride a horse, dragging her keg with one hand while the mechanical arm gave a little wave to every passing bush like it was greeting old friends.

Ducaz trudged alongside Anders, wiping sweat from his brow. "So... are we ever going to talk about why the table's up here? Like, this exact hilltop? What tactical function does this serve?"

Anders didn't even glance at him. "No clue. You carry it."

"What? I'm not carrying it."

Rob picked Blorbo up and carried him down the hill.

Always the reasonable man, Robbie boy. Never acts out of character and never does or says stupid things.

Until he reached the bottom, set Blorbo down, and—without a word—spun, grabbed a random stick off the ground, and screamed into the void as he hurled it with terrifying force toward absolutely nothing.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH—"

The stick sailed through the air in a perfect arc and thunked harmlessly against a tree.

Then Rob turned back, dusted his hands, and said in a perfectly calm voice, "Alright. Let's keep moving."

"What did he just do?" Ducaz asked, wide-eyed.

Lena shrugged. "He does that sometimes when I've nagged him about the same thing for, like, three straight days."

"I'm fine," Rob said.

He's not fine.