Campfire Stories (1/2)

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?”

“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.