You find yourself in a room. You kick at the birnam debris as you find nothing out of the ordinary, except a round Table. A round Table and three Chairs. The slight rays of sun reveal the Chairs to each be slightly different.

One has a portion of its front left leg knocked out, only to be replaced with Wood of cheaper kind.

One has no backrest, but the framework suggests it previously existed.

The last has coloured drawing on the seat. It seems like a child drew it.

The brisk Autumn breeze whisks by as you stand on the hard floor.

Where do you sit? And why?

“Well… If I’m wooking for the swurdiest seat then… The third se—?”

“No!”

It’s a trick!

“?!”

We stop the Demi Human just before she answers foul to the question.

“Qwrin, that’s a fatal oversight you’ve just made,” Captain chides, “You’re too straightforward. And being frank is never the answer. If you noticed, there’s an Autumn wind in this room, implying an open window,”

And there’s a Round Table as well…

“Indeed! That means that that table is actually bolted to the ground and cannot be flipped and if it can’t be flipped then we can confirm that the table isn’t actually a mimic in disguise,”

“Wan?”

“Don’t be so surprised. This is the elementary grade of basic perceptions analysis,” They pat the confused Demi Human, “Notice how Autumn is capitalised? This is actually an allusion to the Fall of Birnam, where the three Chair Lords overthrew the Table King of Birnam under the slight rays of sunshine. Of which the Chair Lord of Pecan had been diced into pieces, Chair Lord of Balsa had their backrest splintered. The Chair Lord of Oak survived the day, had a bowl of crayons and lived happily ever after. The Tapestry states that they Table King of Birnam was sealed and lingers, waiting for a day to rise against the Chair Lords,”

A beautiful rendition of the Fall of Birnam. Very accurate. I applaud the Captain.

“What the—? Is that supposed to be a faiwy tale?”

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

That was a real historical event. How uneducated does one have to be not to know this? I’m a Brick for God’s sake! Surely you cannot be dumber than a Brick.

“Ay, don’t put yourself down like that. After all you’re witnessing someone dumber than one,” Captain pats my bed, “Therefore if we look at all this information, then the answer is to leave the room via the window. Though this then poses the problem of where to sit afterward…”

Quite right, the answer does not lay in the room, and the presence of a window suggests options outside of the so called ‘box.’ But there’s not enough information!

“Not sso, Brick friend,” Snek hisses from underneath me.

I forgot! It’s not just me and Captain bearing this brunt. We have Snek!

“Noticce the hard flooooring of the room and scattered debris. It proves that we are located on the ground floor in a hinterland area, now consssider the only ‘slight’ rays of rays of ‘sun,’”

Sun? Brick… Doesn’t get it—

Wait, sun… Not Sun, it’s sun. My lord! This opens a whole new plane of existence to the scenario! Not to mention the drastic circumstances of only ‘slight’ rays of sun!

“Damnit. Nothing’s ever simple with Bridgekeepers,”

Bridgekeepers, huh? Now that you mention it… I think there’s arithmetics embedded in this…

“FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU—”

If they were not a Ghost, I had no doubt Captain would’ve ruptured their vocal chords.

And exactly, 2.17 hours later, we’ve arrived at a conclusion…

As unanimous representative, Captain steps forward toward the Domain that the Bridgkeeper lords over.

“We have reached a conclusion!”

“Hoho? You truly are men of culture, however, it won’t be enough,” With their arms splayed in the open winds, their ragged tabard whipping violently, “Now tell me how you wish to die,”

“We won’t die, instead I sit on the magenta swing!”

Yes! Our answer after much brooding and formulaic speculation.

It’s correct I know it is.

“Wrong,” Their voice is like the crack of thunder as if there was a synthetic beep behind them, “I accede, you are worldly folk… However times have changed! Magenta isn’t real!”

WHAT?! How is that possible?!

“Isn’t a magenta a colour? How is it not real?!” Captain is as perplexed as I, even Ribbon waves their ends in befuddlement.

“Do not jessst Bridgkeeper. Magenta is real,”

“Hoho! What willful lambs, I pity your foolishness. Magenta may have been real at one point, but that’s a history long forgotten,” The Bridgkeeper pauses with a shake of their head, “I hope you are prepared to die,”

Wait! If that’s not the case, then the answer is the Purple Swing!

Heedless of my answer, he pulls out a glock from the inner compartments of his tattered tabard, “Too late you’re gonna have to die,”

“Haha, Bridgkeeper, you can't do that,"

"Why not?"

"Only the one who answers false dies, and that was me! And I’m ALREADY dead!”

They stop dead in their tracks, their shooty arm frozen still.

“… Fuck…”

Taking this opportunity, I display my Brickly prowess, slamming right into their skull.

Checkmate, Dumbass!