Up to Arms
The bartender started shouting after I had issued my challenge, "Come on! Come on! Let's hear the geezer out! There's nothing wrong with a simple bout of strength!"
In the corner, there's a little opportunistic bastard collecting bets already, despite the fact that no one had walked up to accept the challenge.
By the end of the night if all goes well I'll have raked in a tidy fortune, oh how mad their wives will be when these men tell them just how exactly they had lost their paychecks.
Since everyone was joking around and taking this far too lightly I decided to jostle the box around a bit so to speak.
"Well? C'mon then, surely one of you strapping young lads can teach a lesson to an upstart geezer to me! Have ya bastards been neutered?"
A stunned silence. Not a noise is made in the aftershocks of my statement, it's almost as if I had killed God in front of them the way they reacted.
Then all of a sudden a great hubbub overtook the pub.
"What exactly are you trying to get done here old man?"
"Be careful what you say!"
"Let's get Hanson over here!"
"Are you daft, old bastard?"
Looking over the crowd I picked out the one who had just said that "Why as a matter of fact I am daft. Now, what are you going to do about it eh laddie?"
In response to the blatant question the young man's face flushed an ugly red, how unsightly if I do say so myself. It's tiresome but it's something that I shall have to put up with for the time being.
Then disregarding my earlier provocation of a competition via arm wrestling he flat out bull-rushed with the full intent of knocking me down before pummeling my face.
"Hey! Hey! Stop that! I'll have none of that in my establishment!" cried the bartender.
He ran forward restraining the quick-tempered man, if you really want to prove your balls just agree to the damn competition.
The man slowly breathed in and out, his face a tomato-red flush. After a brief moment, he said "Alright old man, we'll do your damned competition. But on my honor, I'll take something out of your hide."
A classic line, something to make him appear better to everyone watching by bringing up the good 'ol archaic ideas in regards to honor and integrity. Surely by now, the people would've been able to see the quite evident corruption present within the Knight's Order.
By calling on such a line he was most likely trying to salvage the remnants of his reputation while hoping to restore it as well.
Given how he had just recklessly tried to pummel me, an old man, quite reasonably the citizens saw a quite evident stain within his character.
Pulling out a stool he gestured to a table before lifting his arm up to initiate the competition, "So old man? Are you going to just stand there all day or what? It's not like you have much time left now do you?"
Ah yes, the good old tactics of children. A dim-witted, low-effort attempt to aggravate me to ingratiate himself with the other commonfolk. If I'm to respond to this provocation it would seem as if I'm petty. But with this gamble he made he's hoping to provoke my emotions to make an even worse response.
If I simply don't respond or construct an 'honorable' response then the public would turn against him.
Inwardly I sigh, how feeble the minds of sheep. How easy they are to manipulate. A word here, a gesture there. And then all of a sudden they're at your beck and call as they beg for guidance.
"In regards to your earlier statement, what honor is there to gamble on? I see your honor upon the likes of you. Just look at yourself, what honorable person would defile a maiden in such a manner?"
The bartender looked up from where he was collecting bets, as it seemed the people placed little faith in me. I suppose it's time to change this.
"Cut your verbal dick-measuring match already and get to the damn action already!" he cried.
I clasp the man's hand with my right. Tightly clasping his hand I push as we start our clash for pride and dignity.
With an undignified grunt of exertion a bead of sweat sprouts along my brow. He isn't just all talk, after all, there is some meaning behind his words. I struggle to keep him in check and start losing my advantage. Unfortunately, at my older age, I've long since passed my peak and this body doesn't work like it quite used to.
After struggling for a few more seconds I begin my downfall towards the top of the table. The people around are hooting and cheering while the ones who had a semblance of intelligence that had bet on me collectively groan.
Perhaps they just need a short display to inspire some faith, the terms of this competition weren't stated. It wasn't dictated that magic would be forbidden. Who would expect a nondescript old man to be a powerful magic wielder?
What sort of mage would lower themselves from their shaky ivory towers to walk among the rest of the mere mortals? Would mage sully themself through physical exertion?
I would. I have no qualms with a little dirt on my hands. They're already stained with blood after all.
"How do you still have so much strength?!"
I start to push him past the balance point with a subtle application of magic to my arm; a surge of strength empowers me as the second wind arrives.
"Maybe, it is not I that is strong, but you that are weak. Even now I can feel your ineptitude. You aren't qualified to step to me."
I see his face reddening as I push him closer and closer to the surface. The veins in his arm pop out and strain with effort as I hear him grunting under the pressure I apply to his hand.
To further press the advantage I not only push against his hand but squeeze it tightly as well, adding another sensation of pain as well.
Under the combined assaults he crumbles and I swiftly slam his hand into the table with a loud thump.
A great ruckus sprouts around me as everyone shouts as the perceived underdog seizes the victory from the jaws of defeat.
Unfortunately for them, my opponent hadn't a chance from the start.
Standing up I wait for everyone to settle down before dusting off my hands and saying, "Now if that matter's settled I would very much like to bring my guest in here if no else has any objections."