Bloody Bill's was a tavern down on the docks of Cylvania City. Out past the loading piers for the barges of goods that shipped downriver to New Outsmouth and the other far-flung villages, the primary clientele of Bloody Bill's seemed to consist of Mercenaries, ne'er-do-wells, door-to-door salesmen who knocked before eight A.M, and other very shady sorts.

The golems and their friends were about as out of place as a Cleric in a Cultist ritual, but as soon as Buttons had come into sight through the swinging doors, the collected clientele just gave a shrug, put their swords, belaying pins, and suitcases back into their respective holsters or places, and let them be. They had gotten their own table in the corner that wasn't occupied with a mysterious old robed man holding a map, and ordered drinks to be polite.

“You... why are you... how do you know this place?” Apollyon asked, nervously glancing around, sitting with his legs scrunched together to keep his shiny armor and expensive tunic touching as few surfaces as possible.

“Oh, every Mercenary in town knows about it,” Buttons said, and squinted at him. “You don't have the Mercenary job? Thought you were a tank?”

“No, I don't,” he said, frowning. “And yes, I've been trained in the tanking arts.”

“The tanking arts? What, you take Model? Get an extra-punchable face or something? That's what I'm seeing when I look at you.”

“Excuse me please,” Threadbare said. “I think you're being a bit mean to Sir Apollyon.”

Buttons immediately straightened up. “Oh shit. Sorry sir. I didn't mean... I'm sorry, sir.”

“It's all right,” Threadbare said, then paused.

Buttons looked devastated. She looked hurt, and was staring at him with a pain that he could almost feel. Sir Apollyon was smiling, but it wasn't in a friendly way, and his eyes were locked on Buttons. Dracosnack merely looked confused. Glub was looking at him and shaking his head minutely, shooting hand gestures under the table.

And Threadbare got the message.

PER+1

“Glub, could we talk for a moment? Everyone else, please relax. We will be right back,” Threadbare said, and padded outside, hearing the slap-clack of Glub's leather and wood feet behind him. Once they were outside, he asked “Did I do something wrong?”

“Yeah and no,” Glub said, putting his arm around Threadbare's shoulders. “First off, good to see you bro. It's been like, ages.”

“It is good to see you too.” Threadbare hugged him. “Everyone just sort of got scattered as the years went by, didn't they?”

“They did,” Glub said, returning the hug, then walking a ways, while Threadbare followed. “But I guess we all had shit to do. You and Celia certainly did. Shit, man, rebuilding a country and all that?”

“It's going to take decades more before we're done. We might never be done,” Threadbare shook his head. “But everyone is working very hard, and not fighting each other, so that's more than we had a few years ago.”

“Yeah. About that,” Glub said, “Buttons wasn't trying to fight Apollyon in there. She WAS picking on him a bit, though. Y'know why?”

“I've noticed that she's been a bit mean to him. It showed in the briefing. Does she not like humans?”

There were some humans who didn't like golems, so it stood to reason to Threadbare that the opposite was likely true. After all, many of his former peers on the council liked to insist that there were always two sides in any situation.

Of course, they usually insisted on that loudly after the people they supported got caught doing bad things, so Threadbare wasn't entirely sold on the idea.

“Naw, she's fine with fleshies,” Glub said, shrugging. “And yeah, she's being mean, but there's a point to it. She's poking at this guy to make sure that he's tough. That's important to her because she's gonna be trustin' her life to him, him and all of us. She wants to make sure he won't break or do something dumb if he gets stressed. She's doing this in a safe place, so she doesn't have to get surprised later on when we're in a dangerous place.”

“Oh. That's... I don't know if I like that,” Threadbare said quietly. “It's still mean, and she knows she's being mean about it. That makes it worse.”

“Yeah, it's a soldier thing,” Glub said. “Been around enough of them I get how they think and all that. Doesn't mean I like the method, but I can kinda see where they're coming from. And if the guy holds up okay, she'll die for him if she's gotta.”

Threadbare pondered it. “I would die to protect any of them.”

“Yeah, and she knows it,” Glub said. “You proved what you're made of back during the wars, man. Which is why it hurt her when you told her to stop being mean.”

Threadbare looked at the ground. It was muddy, here by the river. There were small puddles sprinkled along the way, remnants of the recent rain, and he considered himself in one of them. He looked the same as he ever had, to his eyes.

But he didn't always know how he looked in other people's eyes. Could never really tell what they were seeing. This had been a problem before, and he could tell it was being a problem now.

Fortunately, he hadn't been exaggerating when he'd told Garon he was one of the wiser creatures in the valley. “So how do I fix my mistake?” he asked.

“Well, from what I was reading from the room, it might be okay,” Glub said. “She'll be down for a while, but after we hit a fight on the road, she'll give him a chance to show her what he's made out of, and if he works out all right, then it'll be fine.”

“Oh. That's simple,” Threaedbare said, rubbing his chin. “We'll have plenty of opportunities for fights on... the... way...”

Threadbare's voice trailed off, as noise rose behind them, and he and Glub turned in time to see a man come sailing out of the door of Bloody Bill's.

Followed by a chair.

Followed by the now-somewhat beer-covered form of Sir Apollyon, as he staggered out, held in a headlock by a much larger man.

Threadbare immediately started towards them...

...but stopped when Glub grabbed his ear. “Dude! Perfect timing!”

And indeed, as the larger man tried to punch Apollyon repeatedly in the face, a small tin figure leaped onto his back from further in the tavern, and brought down a mug onto the big guy's head.

He staggered, Apollyon swept his leg and squirmed free, and the tin soldier and the Knight kicked the brawler a few times to keep him on the ground before turning and charging back into the fray.

“Clever girl,” Glub murmured. “NOW I unnerstand why she brought us to this dive.”

“Oh,” Threadbare said, glancing at the falling and bleeding big man. “Should we heal him?”

“He'll be fine. They'll keep it nonlethal. Ah... I should maybe go in and make sure nobody gets too bad krunked, ya know?” Glub started toward the door. “I recommend you maybe meet us when we come out. Let them bond in their own way and all that.”

Threadbare nodded, and watched as the wooden fishmen bounded toward the fray, catching a chair leg as it sailed out the door, then charging in clubbing.

“I wondered why you were going slumming,” whispered a voice in his ear. A familiar voice, and he smiled as he turned.

“Kayin! Hello!”

He embraced the fuzzy plush catgirl golem, who was only a little taller than him. She squeaked in surprise, then hugged him back, plush arms comfy and warm against his back. “Long time no see, desu.”

“Does that word actually level you up?” he asked, pulling back and looking up at her slit-pupiled eyes. “Did you ever find that out?”

“It did once, I think. The experience is piddly so it's not likely to happen again, but it's still feels right when I say it.” Her grin showed a new set of teeth. Sharp-looking ones, made of bone or enameled metal.

“Did Garon send you? Are you coming with us?”

“No. No, Graves sent me. I'm still working with him, just been busy spying on people and things. There's something going on, but we're not sure what,” her mouth twisted into a grimace. “It's frustrating. He's pretty sure that someone's setting up for a run at us or Cylvania or both, but they're being smart about it. And that the Rumpus Room business was part of it.”

“He did say that it was very odd for Mrs. Beemer to act that way,” Threadbare said, turning it over in his mind. “And that wasn't the only odd thing that happened there.”

“Yeah. He's convinced that Daffodil's death was rigged, too. Though we're not sure why, desu.”

“I see. What can I do to help?” Threadbare asked.

“Eh... to...” she said, tilting her head and scratching her ear. “That's a good question. We don't know. I think you should finish whatever job Garon's got you doing and get back here as fast as possible. And just keep an eye out in the meantime, you know? Be aware that there's sneaky stuff happening.”

“I will,” Threabare promised, and hugged her again. “Can you keep an eye on Celia? Garon was going to ask you to do that, I think.”

“What makes you think I'm not already?” she grinned. Then the grin faded. “She's not looking so good, lately.”

“She isn't. Maybe you could talk to her? She won't tell me what's wrong.”

“I'll try.” she ruffled his head, where the hat didn't cover.

Behind them, smoke poured from the tavern, and men and women fled out the door, heading in all directions.

“I think I need to meet back up with my party now,” Threadbare said, glancing that way. “Tell Graves that I—”

Threadbare stopped, because there was no one to talk to. Kayin had left so quietly and quickly that he hadn't seen her go.

Shaking his head and concealing a smile, Threadbare headed over to where his party was emerging, stained with beer, smelling of smoke, slightly beaten-up, but smiling. Apollyon looked dazed but he was laughing, and Buttons was holding onto his calf to steady herself, walking with a slightly-bent leg.

“Mend Golem,” Threadbare said, and Buttons squeaked in surprise as her leg straightened out, and a few other nicks sealed up.

“Thank you sir,” she said, firing off a snappy salute. “Had a bit of a disagreement with some locals. All sorted now.”

Threadbare looked back into the main room, where the bartender and the mysterious old man were wearily using mugs of beer to douse the fire. Fortunately the beer seemed to be mostly water. “Should we help?” he asked.

“Hmmm... they told us to... get out,” Dracosnack said, tossing away a broken bottle that he'd apparently been using as a shank. “Probably best if we... mmmmm... just let them be.”

“All good, m'man,” Glub burbled. “So. Where we going to next?”

“Well,” Buttons said, her grin turning slightly evil. “As it turns out, I happen to know a BETTER place...”