Bimbleton clapped his hands. A butler stepped forward carrying a small wooden box decorated with silver carvings. He opened it, revealing three neatly folded parchment slips inside.
“The game shall be determined by the Luck of the Draw,” Bimbleton announced. “The rules are simple. Each slip contains the name of one of our three Table Duel challenges. Whatever is drawn shall be the battle that decides your fate.”
The butler presented a parchment atop the box to Bimbleton. With a flourish, the nobleman reached in and retrieved it. He unfolded it and read aloud. “First, the wagon drag duel. Each table is strapped to a moving wagon. The first table to detach itself or break loses. Second, the balancing duel. Objects will be stacked on each table. The table that holds the most without toppling wins. Third, the spinning game. The tables will be spun. The last one still turning wins. To ensure fairness, since you have two contestants, Master Bimbleton and a trusted servant would join forces for the duel.”
“Who would that servant be?” Rob asked.
Bimbleton straightened, puffing out his chest as he gestured toward the side of the hall. “Levin! Behold, the grand champion of Table Duels!”
A figure stepped through with movements almost similar to marching. It took him less than five seconds to reach Master Bimbleton and stood to the left of him.
Rob looked surprised, and so did Table. He thought for sure the Master would’ve picked his partner after the draw to select an individual with a matching skillset and maximize his chance of winning.
Lena and Rob interlocked their hands as the butler closed the box and shook the contents. It was the perfect time for Table to use his quick thinking and heightened perception to whip up grand strategies.
The cartwheel drag would be the most difficult for them, as the commoners definitely wouldn’t have nearly as much experience maneuvering on a wagon as Bimbleton’s servant. As for the balancing duel—
“And we have decided on our game!” Master Bimbleton announced.
What? Table wheezed. I haven’t finished strategizing!
Maybe his quick thinking wasn’t as quick as he’d thought.
The outcome landed on the Cartwheel Drag Duel.
Before Table was even able to process the result, he caught the expression on Bimbleton’s face: a gloating smirk, so smug it made Table’s nonexistent stomach churn.
“What a coincidence!” Bimbleton declared, his tone dripping with mock surprise. “Why, Levin has spent twelve years riding wagons across the Land of Isla! A true master of balance and speed. What serendipity!”
Rob’s face paled. Lena stiffened beside him.
Table was no fool. This wasn’t luck. Bimbleton had rigged the draw. Mustache bastards always rig draws. That was why he’d picked his partner beforehand, why he’d acted like a butthole from the start. He’d already known which game they’d be playing!
Now, they were stuck in the worst possible match-up.
Lena let out a slow breath, squeezing Rob’s hand. “Darling,” she murmured. “We can still win this.”
Rob replied, “I’ll break you out tonight, don’t you worry.”
“I’m serious, Robert. Listen to my plan.”
Rob frowned. “What plan? They have Levin.” He stressed the name.
Lena’s eyes gleamed. “Yes, but we have something they don’t.”
Table perked up. My stunning intellect?
Lena ignored him. “Commoner tricks.”
Rob hesitated. “… Commoner tricks?”
“Yes! You think Bimbleton or Levin have ever had to hitch a cart with half-broken wheels? You think they’ve ever had to hold something together with rope, spit, and sheer will? They know how to ride a wagon, but we know how to work a wagon.”
Rob put a hand over his forehead. “Who would’ve thought you being a mischievous little gal in your youth would become useful later on in life.”
Bimbleton tapped on his wrist even though he didn’t wear a watch. “Tick, tock. Time’s ticking. Let me ask my servants to lead you to the wagon—”
“Oh, but Master Bimbleton!” Lena gasped, eyes widening with practiced innocence. “Surely you wouldn’t let us compete on an empty stomach?”
Bimbleton squinted his eyes. “…What?”
“I mean,” she continued. “Look at us! We’ve had a long journey. You, in your infinite generosity, prepared such a grand feast for us, yet now you expect us to engage in such a demanding challenge without first partaking? That wouldn’t be very hospitable, would it?”
Since when did she learn to talk like that? Table hissed. Sure, Lena had a quirky way with words, and had always gotten out of trouble by simply sweet-talking her husband, but she’d never used such language before.
Bimbleton scoffed. “Eating before a duel? That’s absurd.”
“But it’s not a duel, is it?” Lena gave him a sweet, calm smile. “It’s a game. A friendly competition! And in polite society, one does not challenge guests before they’ve had a chance to eat. Why, even gladiators of old were given a feast before battle! But surely a sophisticated nobleman such as yourself would know more than us lowly commoners. Do you, good Master?”
Bimbleton bristled immediately. “Hah! Fine. We shall feast first. But then,” he sneered, “you will race.”
“Why, of course.” Lena beamed. “Now, where shall we sit?”
Damn, Table thought. This woman knows how to TALK. If only he could see her stat table.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
“Right this way.” As Bimbleton stormed toward the head of the table (dining table, not to be confused with Table), barking orders for the meal to be served, Lena subtly squeezed Rob’s hand.
Rob swallowed. “Lena.”
“Shh.” She smiled. “You know what to do.”
***
They had spent the last hour sneaking out to “visit the toilet,” taking turns so one of them was always outside scouting the wagons. It was ridiculous even to Table for someone to need to visit the bathroom three times within an hour, and that would’ve been obvious to someone like Bimbleton.
Despite being played right in front of his nose, Bimbleton still kept the smug look on his face. That smug look remained as he led them out to the courtyard where the wagons awaited. The towering nobleman gestured with dramatic flair. “Since you insisted on delaying the inevitable, I’ve taken the liberty of choosing your wagon myself,” he declared. “You’re welcome.”
There it was. His trump card.
He grinned at Lena, an ever-confident, ever-annoying grin, as he chose the wagon for himself and for the couple. Only when he turned his back on her did she reveal her own grin.
She was still one step ahead of him. Table was out here the entire time. He saw it all.
Every wagon had been tampered with.
They all had greased axles. Rob had made sure to loosen the reins just slightly, while Lena had left tiny notches carved into the left wheel’s hub.
Surely Bimbleton must’ve tried to prevent this with guards!
And he did.
If only the guard wasn’t Jem, Lena’s old friend from the market.
She had noticed him the moment they entered the estate. The same lanky guy who used to haggle for free samples at her family’s stall, now wearing a stiff uniform and standing at attention. He’d never been good at looking intimidating. She could tell he was bored out of his mind even from across the hall.
She’d nodded at him and reminded him of the time she covered for him when he tried to smuggle a bottle of cider past a merchant’s wife. That was all it took.
The wagons were wheeled onto a stretch of dirt road just beyond the estate grounds. It was long enough for a straight shot but secluded enough that no passing travelers would interrupt the duel. The packed earth bore the marks of old wagon trails, but no fresh ones.
The butler announced from the foot of a nearby hill. “The rules are simple. The first table to detach itself from the wagon loses. If neither falls by the end of the path, the wagons must make a full turn and race back. If at any point a wagon falls behind by more than ten wagon lengths, it will be considered out of the race.”
A smart rule. Probably meant to prevent them from crawling along at a snail’s pace just to keep the table balanced.
The servants finished securing the tables. Lena and Rob’s wagon was strapped with thick rope, while Bimbleton’s was secured with finely woven silken straps that looked extravagant but, in all honesty, weren’t much sturdier than theirs.
Levin took his place at the front of Bimbleton’s wagon, adjusting the reins with sweeping precision. Rob climbed onto theirs, flexing his fingers.
Lena reached out, brushing her fingers along Table’s polished surface. A small, almost imperceptible nod. “Do your best,” she whispered.
She nodded at me? Talked to me? Without even knowing I have a mind of my own?
Table didn’t know why, but he felt bubbling appreciation. He felt an obligation to return her trust in him.
He entered full concentration mode.
He studied the road ahead, noting every bump, dip, and uneven patch of dirt. If he could just tilt himself at the right moments, just slightly, he could maintain his balance better. If he could just do that…
I can do it.
The wagons launched themselves forward.
Table braced himself. This is it. This is my time.
And then…
A single, scrawny chicken flapped onto the road, directly in his line of sight.
Table’s entire vision was suddenly consumed by an irrelevant, feathery sidequest.
[NEW SIDEQUEST: Observe the Chicken]
REWARD: 1 EXP
WHAT IS THIS? IT’S BLOCKING MY VISION. I CAN’T SEE!
Immediately, he clicked no.
[NEW SIDEQUEST: Name the Chicken]
REWARD: 2 EXP
NO.
[NEW SIDEQUEST: Grease the Chicken]
REWARD: 2 EXP
NO. WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?
The wagon hit the first bump. Table slammed into the wood, then onto the chicken.
The space surrounding him spun. All he could see was chicken.
Then—PECK.
[-1 HP]
The chicken, offended beyond reason, flapped its wings in outrage and shot off the wagon like a feathery projectile, squawking in betrayal.
More notifications blocked his view.
CONGRATULATIONS! [SIDEQUEST: Observe the Chicken] FAILED.
CONGRATULATIONS! [SIDEQUEST: Name the Chicken] FAILED.
CONGRATULATIONS! [SIDEQUEST: Grease the Chicken] FAILED.
Get the hell away! I need to contribute to this race!
He immediately hit a rough patch of land and was propelled to the sky.
In fact, Rob and Lena did need his help right now. Because they were struggling.
Rob and Lena to become recurring characters?
