Miles down the road, neither Threadbare nor any of his companions were concerned about secrets. They had a quest, they had instructions, and they had the open road ahead of them.
And an open road it was, broken up by a steady stream of wagons going into the city. Cylvania was quite a large settlement, for the war-torn and much depleted Cylvania. Ten thousand souls called it home, and of them, four thousand tended the farms nearest the walls. Which meant that another two thousand farmers lived in the small villages and trade hubs further out past the first couple of miles.
Which still wasn't quite enough to keep the city fed and supplied, though the experienced Farmers and Shamans did what they could to balance fast crop-growth, efficient animal raising, and soil quality.
Fortunately for Cylvania, and the entire valley, the western half of the former Kingdom was a lush farming region that made a small fortune shipping its produce and goods east to the capitol, and points beyond. They had been relatively untouched by the wars... which Celia had told Threadbare was both a good thing and a bad thing. He'd puzzled over that for a bit, but never quite gotten the opportunity or mindfulness to ask her what she'd meant by that. But he'd be there personally in a few days, so perhaps it would make sense then.
The practical effect of all of this economical and agricultural development as far as the little party was concerned, was that the first leg of their journey was through a couple dozen miles worth of farms, fields, small villages that served mainly as gathering hubs, and patches of wilderness that were slowly losing ground to civilization.
A lot of the passing farmers and merchants waved and pointed at the strange party, gaping openly at the golems and their human buddy. A few kids hopped down from the slower moving wagons and wanted to play, and they took occasional breaks for small games, like tag or catch the bear. (They were also good chances for Apollyon to rest, which was a concern for Threadbare. As the only non-golem-bodied person in the party it would have been far too easy for the rest of them to forget and accidentally walk him into exhaustion.)
When the wagons thinned out, and the sun started dipping low on the horizon, Threadbare found his way to the back of the group, and looked up at Apollyon's face, ringed with sweat and somewhat red. “I'm thinking it's about time to rest for the night,” he said, and watched as Apollyon tried to hide his relief.
“Y-yes, good idea,” the young man said.
“Right, sir!” Buttons snapped off a salute. “Shall I break out the tent for our meatsack?”
Threadbare hesitated. That was the second time she'd called Apollyon something that sounded very rude. But he decided to check the human's face first, and to his relief, the young man didn't seem upset.
Also Glub was making covert hand gestures, that seemed to indicate Threadbare could let it slide.
Glub's certainly gotten good Charisma over these last few years, Threadbare mused, and decided to let Apollyon decide. “We could break out the tent. But would you prefer if we tried to find an inn for the night?”
“Err... hmmm... I wasn't expecting to have a choice in this,” Apollyon said. “I figured you'd want to make the most speed possible, so we'd make camp and I'd rest, and we'd break camp the moment I woke.”
“Could do that,” Glub said, “But inns are nice to. Get to hang out with people, have some fun, get a roof over our heads. Not too many inns while we're going, so this is one of the last chances to do that before stuff gets wild.”
“And you can get another few drinks in,” Buttons said, with a wicked gleam in her eye.
That decided him, and they set up camp beside the roadway. Buttons seemed less than thrilled about that; she'd definitely wanted another show.
But instead of turning in right away, he accepted Threadbare's invitation to sit around a campfire and talk. Dracosnack happily called a fire up using his elementalism, and the five creatures followed the age-old instinct of sitting around it and poking it with sticks.
“This is nice,” Apollyon said, stretching in the warmth now that he was out of his armor. “I gained a constitution point from that walk.”
“Aww... our boy's growing up!” Buttons grinned. Then she settled back, a bit away from the fire. Getting too close would make her paint run. “I got a point too. That was a pretty serious hike.”
“I thought you were ahead of me there. You're a veteran soldier,” Apollyon said, confused.
“Most of what I've got is split between Archer and Mercenary,” she said, shrugging. “None of them are heavy when it comes to constitution.”
“But you're a veteran soldier!”
“Yeah, which is why I have some. But I'll let you in on a secret,” she stood and jogged, jumped to his shoulder and whispered into his ear. Threadbare's hearing was sharp though, and he caught the words.
“Green soldiers think it's about working hard. Veteran soldiers know it's all about hardly working.”
Apollyon almost looked offended at that.
“Do you need any food?” Threadbare prompted. “I don't think you've eaten anything since that toast earlier.”
It turned out that yes, yes he did, and the toys let him work his way through a ration pack while they talked.
“Please, tell me about yourselves,” Threadbare offered. “I'll start us off...”
“Don't gotta do that, boss,” Glub said. “Your story's an open book. Got your own chapter in the history classes.”
“Oh, okay.” That was fine, then.
“Is it true that you took down the daemons single-handedly, though?” Buttons leaned in, painted eyes wide open. “How did that op go down?”
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
“Oh no, that's not true at all,” Threadbare said. “I had about fifty doll haunters behind me, and the rest of my friends— including Glub here, when we charged the portal...”
It was a familiar tale, one that he didn't mind telling because it was less about him, and more about he and his friends had worked together to outmaneuver the daemons who wanted to turn Cylvania into a slaughterhouse. The last battle had been a near thing, even with all the help, and he held nothing back.”
“How many mmmm... survived?” Dracosnack asked, when it was done. “Of the wave that assisted you, I mean.”
“Most of them,” Threadbare said. “Though a few soulstones got broken during the fight, and almost everyone needed new bodies. Some of them went on to be your instructors, your nannies, your mentors in the Rumpus Room. And the army,” he added for Buttons' benefit.
“Oof, all that experience lost,” Buttons said, sighing.
“It was kinda they lose their bodies or the Kingdom loses everybody,” Glub said. “Those daemons weren't playing.”
Silence for a bit, save for the crackling flames. Threadbare dragged another log over and put it on the fire.
“And what have you been doing, since that fight, Mister Glub?” Apollyon asked.
“Mister! I like that. Heh. Ah... honestly I been doing a lot of Exploring. Lot of wild spots out there, lot of ground... and water, to chart. I'm kind of an all-terrain dude, so I been doing stuff to the South and East mainly, where the biggest rivers are.”
“Oh, were you with the team that discovered Belltollia?” Apollyon perked up. “I still remember when that announcement broke. Father was giddy to hear that we weren't alone anymore. My brother and I were given a half-day holiday from training to celebrate.”
“Whoa...” Buttons' jaw dropped. “You got a half-day?”
“Well, er.... yes,” Apollyon coughed. “I spent it sleeping, actually.”
“There might be hope for you yet.”
“What?” Apollyon looked confused.
“What?” Buttons blinked, innocently.
Threadbare pointed at her. “Why don't you go next?”
“Heh, all right. Some rich kid turned a toy soldier into the donation box for the Golem shells, and here I am.”
They waited a bit. She shrugged. “What?”
“There's a bit more to your life than that, I think?” Threadbare asked.
“I mean... maybe. I'm one of the rare toys that ended up with the Human job, so there's that.”
“Wait, what?” Apollyon leaned forward, mouth open.
“You heard me big boy,” she hopped up on his knee, and closed his jaw. “We could legally marry!”
His eyes bugged out at that, and she laughed, before showing mercy and heading back to her seat.
“Kidding, kidding. It's... eh... I kept getting hauled up in class when the lecture turned to humans, because I could answer some questions. I kind of got tired of it. I got the mindset without all the benefits of growing up human, and if I wanted to keep myself awake at night I'd worry about it more. But there's no point in that. I decided I might as well lean into the other part of me that I was “born” with, and go be a soldier. And I'm a damned good soldier!” her voice dropped. “Not my fault I was born after the wars. But when another one comes I'll be ready.”
“Do you.... mmmm... actually hold rank?” Dracosnack asked.
“Well that's a hell of a question! I am a Private First Class, thank you very much!” her grin faded a bit. “Commander Mastoya told me I'll probably be at this rank for a good long while. Says I've got a ways to go before I'm leadership material.”
“It's not for everyone,” Apollyon muttered.
“What?” she squinted at him.
“What?” his smile was entirely too innocent.
But Threadbare's mind was somewhere else. He'd waited politely to ask until she finished, though. “Excuse me,” he asked. “What's this about legally marrying because you're human?”
“You didn't hear about that?” Glub asked.
“Evidently not.”
“Yeah, it was the talk in the regiments last week,” Buttons shrugged. “Council just approved a request from the big churches. Now only humans can legally marry other humans.”
Threadbare stared into the fire.
“Why?”
He'd spoken more forcefully than he intended. The others fell silent, and there was nothing but the crackling of flames.
“Why are they trying to get in the way of people falling in love?” Threadbare asked, finally. “That makes no sense.”
Apollyon coughed. “Ah. This... well... it's not about love, actually.”
“Then what is it about?”
Apollyon shrunk in on himself, as the others stared at him. “It's... well... I'm a noble. Sort of.”
“Sort of?”
“Yes. Enough to... hear talk from other nobles. It's because of inheritance.”
“Ah...” said Dracosnack. “It's the theoretical immortality part, isn't it?”
“Theor... no, you are immortal,” Apollyon said. “Every Golem and Doll Haunter is immortal.”
“Unless we die and there's no soulstones about,” Buttons said. “Which has already killed a bunch of us, actually. Wanna gamble on how many of us are gonna make it through a whole century?”
“It's... no, I... they're worried about... well, eccentric nobles leaving their titles and fortunes to immortal beings. The title stops, then. Unless they're murdered, and that's an ugly thing to consider, isn't it?” His voice wavered as he spoke the last sentence. It was almost pleading, Threadbare thought.
“I am very disappointed,” he decided. “No, no, not with you, Apollyon.”
The man sighed with relief.
“I am disappointed that they waited until I was off the council before voting on this,” Threadbare sighed. “I think it was because they knew how I would have voted.”
“It was, hmm... pretty close, from what I hear,” Dracosnack said. “But the dwarves were okay with it, mmmm... Lady Easterlynn-Proudsmythe argued for it, and Longcroak voted for, instead of how everyone expected him to go. Mother Celia fought hard against it, but she just didn't have the votes.”
Threadbare wondered now, if that was why she had been in a worse than normal mood all week. Perhaps?
“We're heading to Easterlynn in a few days, aren't we?” he asked, rhetorically. “Perhaps I can ask the Lady herself about the vote.”
“She may be in residence,” Apollyon shifted. “I know Father speaks with her a lot. Perhaps I can arrange an appointment.”
“Mmm, I rather suspect that with Threadbare himself here, she won't have an issue seeing him, hm, directly,” Dracosnack gestured at the fire, and muttered words to stoke it a bit with his magic.
“Well,” Threadbare said, shaking his head. “Let's talk of happier things. Will you take your turn at the story circle, Dracosnack?”
“I would, but half my story is not my own,” Dracosnack said, meeting Threadbare's eyes. “I began my existence as a mindless toy, that Celia used to fight her battles. You know more about that part of my life than I do.”
“I do, don't I?” And he summed up what he'd seen, back in those early days. It took a bit longer than expected, and Apollyon's eyelids were drooping and the fire was low by the time Threadbare finished. “I'm sorry, I didn't intend to take up that much time.”
“Naw man, it's a good story,” Glub clapped Dracosnack on his back. “You kicked ass.”
“If you say so. Now I study. I am a, hm... research mage. I am working with Mister Graves sometimes, and trying to gain recognition and wealth enough to, hm... afford my own projects. And perhaps unlock a job that is all to do with academia, and research.”
“That is a worthy cause,” Threadbare nodded. “There's still so much we don't understand about magic.”
“Currently I am trying to study the nature of the world's aetherfield, and it's... mmmm... changes, over the decades. Particularly the era that pre-dates the aetherial text.”
“Either what now?” Glub asked.
“The words we see. The status sheets. The... Change Over.”
“Caradon spoke of that once,” Threadbare said. “When I was still a juvenile.”
Dracosnack's cloth eyelids opened fully, and he turned his green glass orbs on Threadbare. “Did he now? What did he say? Exactly what did he say?” the plush dragon pulled out a book, an inkwell, and a pen.
That took more time to explain, and by the time he was done, Apollyon had nodded off, fallen asleep on the ground by the warm fire. Buttons and Glub set up the tent around him, and the golems fell silent then, watching the fire burn down, with no more words necessary for the moment.
But Threadbare's mind kept turning back to that law that they'd passed without him, and thinking it over.
And no matter how he turned it over in his head, he didn't like it; not one bit. He had the feeling that this meant more trouble in the future.