I Am A Table [LitRPG Isekai Progression Fantasy]

Griesa's eyes darted side to side like a squirrel on high alert, and it was clear to Blorbo that she would not get anything done on her own.

Okay. What do I have in my arsenal that can wield any influence?

I can try to will them to sit down with Synchronized Sitting.

Blorbo focused. That's what the skill description said, right? "Will them to sit." So he willed. With all the grace and majesty of an inanimate object yelling internally at a disheveled woman and a composed knight, he reached into the fabric of probability and desire and yelled: SIT!

Nothing happened.

"It's a bit too soon for drinks, and I'm only looking to talk to my friend, so I'll take my leave," Marin flashed Griesa a bright smile, and it looked as though her soul had left her body as she stared at him, swooned, swayed, and swiveled.

"O-okay. B-but—uh—but! You can't leave yet because… because I haven't—um…" Griesa's eyes flicked around like a trapped owl. "Because I haven't yet taken your Temperament Reading!"

"My what now?"

SIT!

They were still not sitting. Maybe they weren't close enough to the chairs?

"Your Temperament Reading. It's a basic diagnostic rite—I mean, procedure. To check for imbalance in your emotional humors and cognitive charge. If you leave now, your core alignment could drift and destabilize your, um, aura firmware. And it's free every Tuesday! And what do you know?" She pulled out a strapped watch, pried it open in half and took out a mini-calendar inside. "It's! Oh. It's Wednesday. It's free on Wednesday too!"

SIT!

Still nothing. Griesa was flailing, Marin was radiant, and neither of them were within five feet of a chair. Blorbo squinted hard enough to theoretically generate gravity, but nothing budged.

Okay. Okay. Maybe the skill was on cooldown? No, it didn't have a cooldown.

Blorbo yanked open his interface.

Synchronized Sitting (Level 2):

There's a 25% chance to will weak-willed or unsuspecting targets to sit down as someone else is sitting down. They will feel as if they sat at the exact same time.

There is a 1% chance this will work on individuals of average willpower.

This is garbage. It requires one party to be actively sitting for the effect to trigger.

He would have to engineer the sit. He'd have to bait it manually.

"Oh?" Marin tilted his head. "What does this reading entail, actually?"

Griesa's pupils dilated like a hedge-priestess asked to perform a cleansing on the baron's ox and his third wife at the same time.

"I—well, first, obviously, I must assess your... um... aura hue," she began, voice faltering. "To discern if you lean toward... toward melancholic or choleric tendencies, or if you're possessed of a—of a clockwise-rotating spirit axis, which is very rare but not unheard of in the southern hills, and then I must—must trace the leyline resonance through your, um, shin bones."

"What?"

SIT! Blorbo internally screamed again. This was a train without tracks. He was going to die of secondhand embarrassment before either of them ever even glanced at a chair.

Desperate times called for desperate measures.

Blorbo activated Adjustable Angle.

He leaned himself slightly toward a nearby chair. The moment he unleaned, a soft tchk echoed from the floor, just enough to break through the fog of Griesa's spiraling nonsense.

She glanced down at him. Then her glance turned into a stare.

We're in a freaking tavern, Griesa. Use your cog-filled brain for something non-mechanical!

The wheels in Griesa's head finally started turning. "Well, the steps are, uh… Step one is you sit down. Yes. It must be conducted while seated."

Please, Blorbo thought. Please, just sit down. End my misery.

And then, glory. Marin gave a slow, amused smile and sank gracefully onto the nearest bench.

She sat.

He sat. Non-synchronized.

This was it. Blorbo was doing it. The conversation was seated, the conditions were met, the quest could move forward. Morning was coming soon, and Rob was gonna wake up and be the diligent farmer he was. If he was at home, he would've been awake by now, tending to the garden.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

But then—

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

The rat on Griesa's hat scurried back inside and closed the hat door.

The door slammed open, and in waddled the tavern owner, arms full of burlap sacks, a barrel under one arm, and a glorious, bouncing belly that could generate its own weather system. His mustache bristled with the fury of a father who had seen just enough.

His eyes landed on Griesa.

Then Marin.

Then Griesa again.

His eyebrows hit the ceiling.

"WHAT," he boomed, "IN ALL THE KING'S CLOGGED CHAMBERS IS THIS?! ALONE WITH A MAN?! BEFORE THE SUN'S HAD TIME TO WIPE ITS OWN BEHIND?!"

Griesa jolted like she'd been struck by lightning. "D-Dad! It's not—he's not—I was just taking his temperament reading!"

"The only thing you're takin' is an extended stay in your room, young lady! You're GROUNDED!"

"Grounded?! I'm eighteen!"

How?! How are you eighteen and still getting grounded? Why is a woman this young-looking eighteen! It's almost like this is a novel or something and the author is trying to avoid scandals! There is no way a person who looks like this is eighteen! This isn't Jappan!

"AND STILL UNDER MY ROOF, WHICH MEANS UNDER MY RULES! That chair is for paying customers! Not pretty-faced vagrants luring my daughter into early scandals!"

"I am terribly sorry, Mister." Marin stood. "I was just asking for my friend. I'll be on my way."

Griesa tried again. "He was just about to get his leyline reading—!"

"Leyline my left cheek! Get outta here before I banish you!" he shouted at Marin, jabbing a thick finger toward the exit.

Marin offered a gentlemanly bow so fluid it should have been accompanied by a lute solo. "Of course. No offense taken. A delightful morning to you, Miss Griesa." This was the second most gentlemanly he had looked so far, only behind the moment where he caught that vicious cat.

He turned and strolled out, and the door thudded shut behind him.

Oh, come on! I had it under control! All my effort wasted by a stupid father who thinks a man sitting within a ten-foot radius is a marriage proposal!

Griesa, face tomato-red, turned to her father. "This is so unfair. I was working. I had the parchment ready and everything!" She waved a half-crumpled page at him that might once have contained a spell or a sandwich recipe. It was hard to tell.

"Then maybe next time, you'll remember to do your mechanical nonsense during business hours!"

She threw her hands up in defeat. "I can't believe this. I'm literally an adult!"

"And I'm literally your father, and you're literally grounded until I say otherwise. Go prepare the jugs! Now!"

Griesa groaned as she walked over to the bar and strapped a giant keg on her back. A mechanical arm shot out from that keg and started polishing a keg that was perfectly clean and had not yet served any customer.

"Happy?" she snapped toward her dad.

"Over the moon," he grunted, hoisting a sack of potatoes away.

[Congratulations! Quest Failed: Welcome our Guests]

Great.