Threadbare Volume 3

by Andrew Seiple

  Eyes moved to Beryl, who shrugged, and tapped the newly-minted symbol of Yorgum on her chest. “What? I’m his confessor.” It had been an amiable parting when she left Aeterna’s service for the god of builders, thankfully.

  “Anyway,” Threadbare said, “I would like golems to be in as many of the exploration parties as possible. And for those living folks who want to do it to carry soulstones.”

  The councilors turned to look at Bazdra.

  “You’re putting me in a spot here,” the dwarven cleric said, steepling her fingers. “I told you the problems that would arise, given enough time. My position on those haven’t changed. Undead that can hop bodies and persist eternally are going to cause us problems, both with the mortal followers of the gods and the gods in general.”

  “Actually I’m not putting you in a spot,” The little bear said, spreading his paws. “It would be in the contract if I was. I’m giving you the chance to say yes or no, and the society will abide by your decisions, without reservation.”

  “What?” Bazdra blinked.

  Beryl spoke. “We’re still trying to draw up rules for how to do the golem body-hopping shit without pissing off Aeterna or Nebs. NOBODY’s dumb enough to want a beef with the Goddess of Time or the Goddess of Death,” Beryl spread her hands. “So we’re giving you the shot to stop it cold turkey. But at a cost.”

  “That cost being, a greater chance of permanent fatality among the explorers,” Cecelia said, into the silence. “At a time when we’re low on people already.”

  Bazdra rubbed her eyes. “We don’t know what’s out there, do we?” she asked.

  “Could be entire peaceful nations beyond the wilderness,” Jericho shrugged. “Could be hordes of dragons just outside our scouting range. We’re running blind.”

  “I’m just worried that this will be a compromising decision,” Bazdra shook her head. “Trading the moral implications for extra security. This land tried that already and look how THAT turned out.”

  “It’s a good worry,” said Cecelia. “And I’m glad you’re concerned. But... well, doll haunters already make up a hundredth of Cylvania’s population. We’re already compromised. Short of going out and killing all of them, myself included—”

  “No one’s suggesting that!” Bazdra raised her hands.

  “—I know, I’m just saying, the die has already been cast. Right now there are only two, possibly three sources for golems in the kingdom. But eventually more people will learn the unlock for Golemist, even if Threadbare and the others never teach anyone else. And necromancer’s an easy unlock that anyone can get from interacting with, oh, doll haunters or other undead.” Cecelia sighed. “They’re our people. We have nothing to gain and everything to lose if we treat them differently. They’re not going away, barring a major disaster. So we need to look at ways going forward. Which is why we want them represented in the RAGs.”

  “How would putting them in every team help us with that?” Bazdra asked.

  “Because,” Threadbare said, leaning forward, “this will let us test and see how the rest of the world reacts to the notion of sentient golems. And by seeding them in among the people most likely to run into the rest of the world, we get to find out how various nations, groups, and other sorts react to our discovery BEFORE they’re on our doorstep with armies.”

  The Council considered that for a long moment. Then the dwarves were nodding. “When you put it that way... I can see the wisdom in it,” Bazdra said. “Alright. I have no objections. Anyone else?”

  “I got vun.”

  Surprised, the rest of the Council looked up to the grumpy giant. “We gots to do der north first. Exploring it, I mean.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Ve’re out of de Sunfire mead. And de only brewery what makes it vas up dere, last ve knew, so ve gots ter go north first.”

  “What?” Grundi shrieked. “I told you to nurse that stuff!”

  “Ve did!”

  “It ain’t even been four months!”

  “Yah, and it vas only t’ree kegs! Ve ain’t made of stone, dammit! It’s SUNFIRE!” Her bellow rattled the table.

  About an hour later, after placating the surly Jarl, the Council resolved a few other minor issues and broke up.

  “Did you get it?” Threadbare asked, on their way out the door.

  “Hm? Get what?”

  “Model.”

  “Oh yeah.” she grinned. “I read the skill descriptions during the dull parts of that meeting.” She sighed. “We’re going to be having one of these every few months for the rest of our existences.”

  “Or until we are destroyed,” Emmet said, falling in behind them. The small dog in his arms snapped awake at the motion and barked a few times, on general principle. Emmet scratched it with the tips of his fingers until it thumped its tail against his chest and settled.

  “You really shouldn’t let him pee on you,” Threadbare said.

  “Did he?” Emmet looked down. “Oh. My skin is not so sensitive to that.”

  “It’s all right. Clean and Press,” Threadbare looked him over and threw in “Mend,” on the big golem’s torn jacket for good measure.

  “But yeah. Council meetings for the rest of our lives...” Cecelia said. “Or maybe not. When the time comes we can hand off the reins to someone else. Once things are a little more settled.”

  “Reason might be a good candidate. She’s taking her name seriously,” Threadbare said. “She likes books and debating things.”

  “She’s coming along well, then?” Cecelia shot him a concerned look.

  “Oh yes. We had Zuula and Fluffbear on hand for the luck buffs before I gave her the greater upgrade. Armor golems don’t get any better mental stats, so it’s a good thing we did. Also a good thing we were in the middle of nowhere.” Threadbare frowned. “I’m still not sure where those maxicores came from. Anyway, she’s got six adventuring jobs and three crafting ones. I think that’s the best I can do right now, but I’ll keep working on it. I might be able to get that number higher for future greater golems.” He stirred, as he remembered a detail. “For her first job she wants to be a knight just like her mother.”

  “Her mother? Who— oh.” Cecelia clapped her hand to her mouth. “You told her I was...”

  “No. Not to begin with. She remembers you, vaguely.”

  “Much like I remembered you?” Emmet asked, “from before I had thoughts?”

  “We think so. I told her of you after she brought it up and started asking who you were.” Threadbare smiled up at Cecelia. “Would you like to meet her?”

  “I would. She’s... where, exactly?”

  “About a day to the north.” Threadbare sighed. “In a pretty burnt patch of forest. I think... that I need to talk to Jarl Greta about renting her dungeon core for a while. I could use it to make a controlled safe space for Greater Golems to grow up in and get their luck up before they go out to the outside world.”

  “So long as that’s the only experimenting you’re doing with dungeon cores, I’m fine with that,” Cecelia said. “Yes. I would like to meet her. Maybe tomorrow, though? It’s been a very long day.”

  “It has. Shall we retire?”

  “Yes. Once I get out of these clothes.”

  Minutes later, Cecelia sat in her bedroom, dressed in her nightgown and brushing her hair. She didn’t need to wear the one or do the other, not anymore, but it comforted her. Pulsivar curled up next to her, hogging most of the bed, even though he appeared to be on the edge of it. Even in sleep, his Misplacement effect continued.

  And hanging his hat on the rack, clad in only his fur, her teddy bear joined them, hopping up on the small bed and waiting until Cecelia hugged him tight. She was smaller now, and her arms and body were much harder, but it was close enough for him. She was still his little girl.

  She settled back in bed, next to the warmth of Pulsivar’s invisible fur, and smiled. “Ready.”

  “Dreamquest,” Threadbare told her. With Garon’s help, he had
swapped out Scout, then montaged and taken Shaman, and ground it up as fast as he could. It was nice to be able to talk to Pulsivar, and some of the skills were handy. But mostly he’d just got it so that Cecelia could sleep and dream whenever she wished.

  And for now, for a little while at least, his girl’s eyes closed, and Threadbare snuggled in against her, while she slept.

  For this, for her, he had cast down a tyrant, defied daemons, and saved a kingdom.

  And it had all been worth it.

  *****

  Madeline was waiting for Garon outside the conference chamber. “Is the boring stuff done?” the red-painted dragon demanded, grinning at him.

  “Oh yeah. Is the fam behaving?”

  “Mostly. They won’t miss us foah a bit.”

  “Cool. Shall we?”

  It was a few flights of stairs up to the battlements, then a quick hop on her back, and Madeline roared, before launching herself into the air. Garon clutched her neck tightly for a second, then relaxed as she took off, flapping.

  “I didn’t hear a scaly wings in there! Had me worried for a second.”

  “I roared it. Tahns out dragons can do that. Just roar out any skill they want, and it counts as commanding it. It’s paht of that Draconic Tongue skill.”

  “Any skill? Not just the dragon ones?”

  “Any skill.” She beat her wings as they soared over the city, and Garon rode in silence for a bit, checking out the streets below. They were distressingly empty.

  “We could use a few more dragons,” he said, as his mind turned over the numbers he’d been privy to in the last council meeting. Four hundred doll haunters, give or take, among barely forty thousand other people in Cylvania’s population. True that wasn’t counting the dwarves, but even adding them in, they were only like two thousand more, at most. Cylvania was down way, way too many people for the territory they were claiming.

  “Moah dragons? It’s not gahnna be a hahd sell,” Madeline said. “Mind you, that faia elementalist thing is paht of it too, unless you want people blowing themselves up.”

  “There’s gotta be something in higher levels for that.” Garon shook his head. “You’re only level four. Maybe next level, I don’t know.”

  “Guess I’ll find out.” Madeline grinned, as her spine twisted under him. She curved around the edge of the city, circled back, spooking pigeons and crows as they went. “Ya know, I never did ask. Why a minotaur?”

  “Eh. More of a matter of why NOT a minotaur. Big, strong, not too obviously dumb, no real weaknesses or surprises. Well, beyond that Maze-ing Grace skill, but that’s more of a weird boon than anything else. And no rage, that’s a big deal.”

  Madeline laughed. “Don’t have to tell me twice. It was pretty bad to watch, those yeahs I had to keep you tied up. Wait, shit. Soahry? Too soon? I didn’t mean to...” She shut up.

  “No. No, it’s fine. You were a vampire, back then, and that’s what vampires do. Did, anyway. Figure death has buried that, you know? We’re free to be who we want now, and I figure the you that hurt me is dead, and the me that betrayed you in the end is dead, too. I’m Garon and you’re Madeline, and we’re free to be awesome together.”

  “Togethah.” She beat her wings again. “Not the way I’d envisioned it, but it ain’t so bad. Though it does make me curious. Zuula and yoah old man, what do you think they... I mean how do they... in bed, and all?”

  “You know, you could ask her that, and she’d tell you in graphic detail.”

  “Why do you think I ain’t asked her?” Madeline shuddered underneath him.

  “Heh!” Garon snorted. His muzzle was good for that. “They sleep together, that’s all I know. Whether or not they do anything uh, beyond that, I couldn’t say. They’re happy. That’s all that matters. Personally...” He freed up a hand and rubbed his chin. “I think it’s the intimacy. That’s what makes it love. They can be alone together, and whatever they do is just icing on top, you know? The core of it is you’ve got two people alone, who trust each other and just enjoy each other’s company.”

  “Sounds kind of like what weah doing now,” Madeline said, flapping her wings to get over a tower.

  “Yeah,” Garon said, resting his hand back at the base of her neck. “It does.”

  “Think it’s the same for mistah beah and his princess?”

  Garon shook his head. “No. He’s her bear, and she’s his little girl. Wouldn’t be right otherwise, and they know it. But us? Well. That’s different, isn’t it?”

  They flew in silence for a bit longer. But not awkward silence. It was more of a warm silence, an answer given to a question that had never been asked and a satisfaction that grew as they considered it.

  They stayed out much longer than they’d planned, but it was worth it.

  Zuula was waiting for them when they returned, standing on the battlements and throwing pebbles down at the guards below.

  “Mom! Stop that.”

  “No, it fine. Dey got helmets.” She lifted up a rock the size of her head.

  “No.”

  “Tch. Talkin’ to you mother dat way...” But she put the rock down. “You got de t’ing you say earlier?”

  “Yeah. You ready?”

  “No, let her go be human and fart around and angst for an hour... OF COURSE ZUULA READY!”

  Garon nodded and reached out a hand, smiling as she grabbed it like she was drowning. “Shaman Promotion Fifty!”

  And Zuula’s mouth fell open into a huge, tusky grin as she declared, “Level twenty-six!”

  “Twenty-four more to go.” Garon grinned. “Maybe by then I’ll have unlocked another promotion skill.”

  “You bust butt on dat. Zuula ain’t slowin’ down. Er... maybe good time to mention dat.” She said, nodding toward the trapdoor and the ladder leading down.

  “Not slowing down?” Garon said.

  “We... gonna go. Mordecai and me. Go sout’, go on one last adventure.” She sighed. “He... not in good way. Forgets t’ings. Slowing down.”

  “Oh jeeze. Mom, look, I... you’re not going off to die, are you?”

  “Pfft, no. Not our way. Don’t be stupid. But if it happen, it happen. He not soulstoning. Not gonna come back dat way.”

  They descended the ladder as Garon considered.

  Madeline spoke up. “Yoah coming back, though, right?”

  “What? Yes. Or maybe we both come back. This one last chance to see world outside, while Mordecai can still get around.” Zuula said. “Once we see enough of it, we make decision den.”

  “You’d better. I mean, we’re not going to have kids, but there’s still hope for Jarrik and Beryl. And Bakky too, maybe, I don’t know what his situation is. Regardless, I really want my cousins to meet their grandmother AND their grandfather, if at all possible.”

  Zuula glared at him. “Fighting dirty.” Then the glare softened. “So proud of you! Proper orky tactic!”

  “I learned from the best.” He hugged her, and she hugged him back, biting at his shoulder affectionately.

  “So when are you going?”

  “As soon as you promote Mordecai. He got some jobs to level up!”

  “Yeah, he’s at the top of the list. It takes a good chunk of fortune or else I’d do all the rangers at once.” Garon rubbed his head. “Tell him I’ll stop by tonight, okay? He’s... doing well?”

  “He sane. It worst in de mornings.” She glanced up toward the sun, scowled at the ceiling. “Zuula be glad to be out of here, soon. When we waystoning back, anyway?”

  “Tomorrow, I’m thinking,” Madeline said. “Time enough foah another flight or two round the city.” She nudged Garon with her tail, and he jumped. “See ya around, Gar.” She sauntered off, smiling.

  “Dat one a keeper,” Zuula nudged him.

  “Yeah.” Garon nodded, watching a draconic tail give one last wiggle as it disappeared around a corner. “She is.”

  *****

  “Nah. It’s back to Brokeshale for us, bro,” Jarrik said, drainin
g the last of his beer. “Too much light out here. Too much space.”

  “That’s kind of ironic, given how much I remember you being into the outdoors and exploring the hell out of things when we were kids.” Garon said over his mug. It was full of water, but he drained a sip into the compartment in his chest whenever Jarrik took a pull of his own. It was good dwarven manners, that’s all.

  “Yeah, well... I think I found what I was looking for.” Jarrik reached over to ruffle Beryl’s hair and got his arm punched, for his trouble. He gasped but managed to avoid spilling his drink. “Ass,” he muttered.

  “Dick.” Beryl responded. Then she smiled at Garon. “Yeah, we’ve been here long enough. I’ve got a whole ministry to run, and now that I’ve got all the shipments arranged, I’ll have the supplies to keep us playing with all new weapons for a few years. After that, we’ll see.”

  “So you’re not losing business? Now that the war’s done, I mean?”

  “We’re dwarves,” Beryl said, refilling her mug. “There’s always another war coming. And new weapons are going to be useful when it does.”

  “Yeah. And I’ll be there to see it, too.” Garon sighed. “Grundi’s your guildmaster, so you’re good there. But I’ll have to stay here and stay safe until I’ve got some successors trained up. That’s going to take time. Even after that, I don’t know.” Garon stared at his water. “It depends on what the RAGs find, I guess.”

  “Yeah. ‘bout that,” Bak’shaz spoke for the first time that afternoon, and everyone looked at him. “You got a spot open?”

  “Of course!” Garon said, putting his mug down. “Invite Adventurer,” he told Bak’shaz. “We’re still working out the rules and all, but welcome aboard.”

  Bak’shaz has joined your guild!

  “Thanks bro.” Bak’shaz smiled and fiddled with his helmet. “I’m thinkin’ I don’t want to explore much yet. But I wanna help set up the lodges an’ stuff. I’m thinkin’ that maybe it’s a way around th’ tamer problem.”

  “Tamer problem?” Jarrik killed his beer.

  “It’s hard as hell to keep more’n one critter tamed. Might be that changes in later levels, I dunno, but I’m thinkin’ we can have like pens and paddocks set up at the lodges, so the RAGs can bring in more animals, stuff you don’t find in these parts, and leave them between missions...”