I Am A Table [LitRPG Isekai Progression Fantasy]

"So the hawk mask guild is called the Talons of the Veil," Ducaz returned to the tavern after asking around. "Probably because Order of the Eye has been taken."

The party was once again in The Drunken Mast, the tavern where Griesa's father was the owner. Night had fallen, which meant every building closed, and the party was the only people inside the tavern. Nokia didn't have a curfew, but the city wasn't bustling enough for there to be enough night traffic.

The room was lit by another weird contraption by Griesa: a glass orb perched on a copper stem, glowing from within like a jar of captured fireflies. But instead of blinking with the soft unpredictability of flame, the light held steady with a pale amber pulse like it was alive. A wooden plank next to it revealed the name—a lightbob.

A lightBOB? Do you even hear yourself, Griesa?

Blorbo was sure there was a better name for it. Blorbo had tried coming up with a better name. "Glowgob," "Illumisphere," even "Lightbolb." All sounded worse. He hated that Lightbob was winning.

Somewhere in the background, a half-full mug stirred itself with violent enthusiasm, its tiny brass spoon clinking against the ceramic like it was trying to dig its way out. No one acknowledged it. They had all learned to stop asking.

Rob was slouched in the corner booth, the one farthest from the windows, back to the wall out of habit more than paranoia. He nursed the same mug of watered-down ale he'd been holding since dinner, mostly untouched. Lena had kicked her boots up onto the table despite Rob's disapproving glance, one leg crossed over the other. She had finished her cabbage soup, and was halfway through carving something inappropriate into the tabletop with a dinner knife. Griesa was behind the bar, even though she didn't need to be. She kept busy wiping down already-clean mugs, restacking bottles that were already in place. Technically, it wasn't even her doing it—it was her mechanical arm. Blorbo still had no idea how the thing worked. He was fairly certain it was sentient, and probably unlocked Movement skills.

"Do they have anyone notable?" Anders asked.

"Not that I know of. The best mages they have are around my skill level, if not worse," Ducaz replied as he leaned against the wall.

Anders scoffed, finally glancing up. "Please. I could sneak past every single one of them, tap them on the shoulder, and punch them in the gut before they finished their first incantation."

"However…" Ducaz raised a finger. "They have an Orb of Veyrus."

That got a pause.

"It detects mana," he added. "Any magic use, even suppressed auras. If you're breathing with a spark in you, the Orb buzzes like a hornet's nest."

"What? Why would a bunch of wussies need an Orb of Veyrus?" Anders rumbled. "You wear creepy little bird masks and call yourselves a guild, act like it. At least pretend you have instincts."

Before Ducaz could reply, Griesa appeared from behind the bar, balancing a tray with far more grace than necessary. She placed it down in the center of the table with a clink of ceramic bowls and a suspiciously cheerful smile.

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"Here's your midnight snack," she said, voice dripping with sugary sweetness that couldn't possibly be genuine. "Because nothing fuels a full-grown tantrum quite like warm stew and passive aggression."

She gave Anders a too-pleasant smile and added, "Extra bread for the brave little sneaky man."

Behind the bar, one of the stools emitted a slow hiss and sank an inch with no one sitting on it. Then it jolted back up like it had changed its mind. "It's just fine-tuning itself," she said absently. Then her eyes widened as she yelped, "Oh no!"

"What's wrong?" Lena asked.

Griesa ran back behind the bar as she elaborated no further.

Anders stared at the extra bread like it had personally offended him. He muttered something incoherent, then huffed, "Look, if I was at full power, I could wipe that entire guild out. No witnesses. Just an empty building and a lot of confused birds."

Ducaz raised an eyebrow. "Then why don't you go all out?"

Anders stiffened. "None of your business."

He snapped a notebook (that he didn't have before with him) shut with a crisp thwap and scanned the room judgementally. Lena was casually working through her second bowl of cabbage soup like it was a five-star delicacy, completely unbothered. Rob, meanwhile, had apparently fallen asleep upright, face half-covered with a large leaf he must've grabbed off someone's plate.

Anders threw up his hands. "Why don't you two come over here and contribute?!"

"What can we do?" Lena shrugged. "If only someone can teach me a magic trick or two then maybe I can be helpful."

Rob snored.

Anders said, "You don't need magic. We can't even use magic with that nuisance orb around. If only there's a way to power through without any magic."

"Do Paladin Aura count as magic?" Lena asked.

"Depends. But the Orb of Veyrus can spot that kind of aura, too, if I'm not mistaken," Ducaz said. He scratched his temple, searching for the least confusing way to explain it. "Okay, so… it's like this. Magic messes with the forces of the Pillar. Magic users pull from the structure of reality itself, so they bend it or warp it. That kind of tug leaves a mark. The Orb picks that up."

"And Paladin stuff?" Lena asked, raising an eyebrow.

"That's different. Paladins channel the Lord's authority, so divine command, not ambient force. But the end result is still a disturbance all the same. Just from a different direction." He made a vague gesture, like miming two opposing magnets. "Imagine you're sitting in a still pond. Throw in a stone, that's magic. Have the wind blow across it, that's divine. Either way, the ripples spread, and the orb detects it."

"Why do you bother explaining?" Anders frowned. "Just say Paladin Aura won't work."

Ducaz shrugged again. "I'd like to think some day someone might write down the things I said and immortalize me within the pages, and I'll look like the wise, knowledgeable one while you will look like the grumpy schmuck."

"So if spells don't work, auras don't work, what can we do?" Lena never ran out of questions.

Adjustable Angle. Adjustable Angle always delivers.

Thunk.

A small rock zipped past their heads, bouncing off the far wall with a dull clack.

Everyone turned just in time to see a miniature trebuchet retracting on Griesa's shoulder, smoke curling from a copper coil. She stood behind the bar like nothing had happened, save for the enormous, self-satisfied grin plastered across her face.

She asked, "Have you tried technology?"