Threadbare

The Show Must Go On

Before anyone could act, the Phantom stamped his foot and shouted Dazzling Entrance! in a booming voice.

A trapdoor snapped open under him, and then there came a mighty roar, as he surged upwards from the middle of the opened chest.

The audience went insane.

Screaming, yelling, clapping, cheering as the daemon dragon roared into life, trotting around the stage, long cloth body trailing behind him.

The music shifted yet again, shifted from flutes and odd stringed lute-like things to violins and trumpets.

Threadbare turned to follow the Phantom, drawing his rod from his back... but the dragon darted, and before he could complete getting the rod clear of its holster, the form was kneeling before him, staring into his button eyes with those manic orange orbs.

The force of this beings charisma was almost physical. There was no skill used, he was sure of it, but he stared up at the looming figure above him and knew for a fact that he couldnt act even if he wished to. Not until he knew more about what he was looking at.

Stage Whisper, the Phantom said. I couldnt let the show end this way, for lack of a player. Wouldnt be fair. Lets give them what they want, then we can have ourselves a discussion. Yes?

Yes, Threadbare decided. Winds Whisper to Zuula. Stand down. Were going to finish the play before he monologues at us.

You know me so well, the Phantom murmured.

You seem the type, Threadbare murmured back.

Your Adorable skill is now level 97!

With a chuckle the Phantom whirled away, and the narrator guided them through the rest of the story. A plucky peasant rebellion suddenly gained a dragon that was possessed by a daemon. The dragon forged an unlikely friendship with the inventor who had freed it, and with the aid of the dragons voluntary gift of potent magical blood, created an army of terracotta soldiers to fight the army of the evil emperor on more even terms.

The Emperor was vanquished, but at a great cost; all three of the rebellions founders were dead at the end of it, and the dragon, glutted with the souls of the wicked, fell into a slumber for another few thousand years. Saddened beyond belief at the loss of all his friends, the inventor took the throne and became the new Emperor, leading his people into a golden age.

And at the end of it, the curtain came down to thunderous applause as every actor bowed and curtseyed and occasionally snagged roses out of the air as the crowd bombarded them with flowers.

Zuula sidled up to Threadbare as the curtain raised and lowered one last time.

Dis de part where we fight?

You know, that was originally the plan, the Phantom whispered, his voice surrounding them, giving a sense of coming from everywhere and nowhere. But then you were such jolly sports about the play. And youd chosen a story I hadnt seen before. But now? No, Im in too good a mood. Lets chat, shall we?

Damn, groused Zuula.

Before we do, Anne said, ripping her costume off and shoving a pistol in the Phantoms face. There be the small matter o me payment.

With a flick of his wrist, a cane whipped out from the Phantoms costume, and he parried the pistol to the side as it fired. With a rapid movement the cane flicked in two and he caught the rabbit-eared handle of it as he pressed the thin blade of the sword contained in it to the side of Annes throat.

And you shall be paid in full, you lovely, lovely woman, he said, staring deep into her eyes.

Ah... Anne breathed. Yer a true male, arent ye. Well then. she cleared her throat a few times, and the Phantom stepped back, snikting the cane back into its sheath.

Heh, Zuula muttered.

What? Anne snarled, glaring down at her.

Youre blushing! Fluffbear squeaked. Its cute!

Anne scowled at her... then her face softened. Yer lucky ye be cute, bear.

Youre cute, too!

Left out of the byplay, the Phantom shed his costume, and the rest of the crew followed suit.

Out of the dragon getup he was a tall, tall beastkin of a rabbit, brown-furred and orange-eyed. He wore formal clothes complete with an opera cloak and a half-mask of porcelain covering the right side of his face. His cane was metal and topped with a pair of ears twisted into a crooked grip, and he tapped it on the stage as he walked, waving them to follow as doors opened in the back wall.

Come, come now, every good theater has a green room. Let us go and discuss in comfort. I understand that you enjoy tea, Mr. Bear? Do the rest of you as well, or shall I have Hopple adjust the menu?

Tea be fine, Zuula said. Boiling hot. In easily thrown pot. Yes.

Tea parties are good... Fluffbear concurred. Zuula, no maiming!

Aw.

Shot o rum for mine, Anne said, doing a bad job of concealing the direction of her gaze as she followed the Phantom, obviously enjoying the view.

Tea, earl grey, hot, if you have it, please, requested Thomasi.

Jean and Celia said nothing, and Threadbare noted that the beastkin woman was squeezing his little girls gauntlet as they walked.

Were they in love? Had she finally found someone who could be that to her? He hoped so. She needed help, and he couldnt give it, though hed tried. Perhaps a different person with a different approach could manage it.

And you?

It took a second for Threadbare to realize the Phantom was addressing him.

Im partial to peppermint, he replied. Because it makes breathing people remember the holidays, and those are usually good memories.

The Phantom laughed. This is about what I expected from you, Mr. Bear. I am glad we have a chance to talk this through. I would have hated to destroy you, after the hope youve given myself and my people. Come, come, let us sit and be social before I answer your questions. With that he led them through a green door and into a green room. It was comfortably appointed, with a crackling fire in the fireplace, a round table easily large enough for all of them, and a green-painted jade tea service sitting in the center, pot merrily steaming. The party filed up and around it, as the Phantom pointed his cane at the pot. Animus. Command Animi, fill the cups halfway.

The pot, which was shaped a bit like a frog, wiggled its legs and trundled around to do so. Well get the Earl Grey shortly, my good man, the Phantom told Thomasi.

Of course. Ill be glad if you could make it so, Thomasi emphasized.

The Phantom squinted at him. Hm?

Thomasi shook his head. Just testing something, dont mind me.

If you say so. The Phantom cradled his cup in his hands. Where to begin?

At the beginning! Fluffbear squeaked.

Very well. I asked Jean what she revealed to you of my countrys history. Need I review it?

No, I dont think so, Threadbare said. I shared all that with everyone before we came down here.

Then it begins with me. They had a policy, twenty-five years ago, the Inquisition of Nurph did. The rule was that any male rabbit beastkin born in Belltollia would be taken away to be... raised by the church. I rather imagine this involved a quick trip into the wilderness and a shallow grave, but my mother was one of the few who knew about it. I was raised in secret, as a girl. She hid my face with a mask, and in time I made it my symbol. And then I began to fight for my peoples freedom.

Then the dragons came, Threadbare said.

They did. And I saw our opportunity, and shared the burrows, my base of operations, with those who could make it in time. And I barred the doors to our conquerors. Hundreds died screaming. He started to lift his teacup to his lips, paused and put it back down. Oh dont look at me like that. They all deserved it. Or they supported the ones who deserved it, which is almost as bad.

That was so long ago, said Jean. But you look so young.

The Phantom smiled, and bowed his head. And for that I owe you, young master bear. For I am truly that old. But my body is not.

And with that, Threadbare could put his paw on something hed noticed, but been unable to clarify. Youre not breathing.

No. I am not. I am no longer stuck in a feeble shell, struggling to draw breath, trying to plot the course of my nation before the great leveler catches up to me. I am immortal now, and it is thanks to you and your soulstone discovery, that this has come to pass. He set the teacup back on its tray with a clink and moved it aside. When your scouts found us in the wilderness and told us of your history I set in motion a chain of events to get the skills and education needed to gain myself a new shell. And here I am. he gestured at his form. You can barely see the stitches, no?

A flesh golem! Thomasi said, studying him more closely.

Indeed. A few volunteer donors, a few churchyard raids. Wouldnt you say Im rather well preserved?

Anne looked ill. I was pervin after a dead man? Yarr...

Thats one way to look at it, said the Phantom. But think of it, Anne Bunny! If you had immortality within your grasp, think of what you could do! Time would no longer be your foe

Aye, I thought of it, Anne interrupted. But to never again know a lovers touch, or swill grog... well, that be a hard step. Although... ye didnt make his body, did ye Threadbare?

No, Threadbare said and watched as Annes eyes narrowed, flickering between them. Watched and remembered how shed taken his refusal to make her a golem body.

I have my own people for that, the Phantom said. Though it took quite a lot of resources to train up a few proper Golemists, and many had no clue what they were truly making. And Anne... he said, peeling a glove off, and revealing a long-fingered hand. I can still feel a lovers touch even if some of the usual parts dont function as they once did. I can also still taste and drink. He took a sip of the tea. Though not everything works as it used to, its still flesh.

Celia settled back in her seat, and Threadbare saw her eyes opening just a fraction, there behind her visor.

The reagents that we were selling east, Threadbare mused. The dwarven trade to Belltollia. This was the reason for it?

Indeed. The Golemists needed to grind experience, and theres no way around it. Our own land is poor when it comes to reagents. Which saved us much trouble during the age of warring guilds, but its been bad for business now that were trying to rebuild. But thanks to this, he rapped his chest with a knuckle, I can shepherd my people into a new era. And I owe you a debt I can never repay, though I will certainly try.

Then why the fumping heck did you pay HER to kidnap ME! Celias armored fist slammed down on the table, and the frog teapot jumped, and barely kept its balance as it staggered.

Threadbare casually caught a cup before it slid off and spilled. I would rather like to know that answer myself, he said, keeping button eyes on the Phantom.

But the Phantom looked to his little girl, not him.

Because we needed to talk, Cecelia, he said simply. You have enemies, and they are moving against you. You have dared to rule openly, and they see their doom in the relentless march of ages. You will only grow more powerful with time; they must prevail now or lose everything. That is how they see this matter.

And you tried to get me to safety by having a ruthless pirate attack me and almost murder my friends?

Murders such a harsh word... Anne demurred. Besides, they were a tryin ta kill me right back. So its fair.

Cecelia. Jean told me of the assassin. The one that struck you at the musical? The one that Anne had to kill? That was one of theirs, not one of ours.

Assuming I believe that... and thats a big IF, then why would they want me gone? I made it clear I would be stepping down in a decade, at most, Celias armor clattered as she folded its arms, cannon over gauntlet. All they would have to do is wait.

And by that time, the citizens of Cylvania would be used to living in a Republic, with rulers who arent born to it. Cecelia Ragandor, your foes are the nobles who stand to lose the most power from your governmental shift. And whats worse, they fear the one power you have over them that they cannot match.

Immortality? Celia snorted. It comes with its own problems.

No. Legitimacy. You, Cecelia Ragandor, are Cecilia Ragandor. The only legitimately recognized daughter of the last king.

Thomasi took a long breath.

Fluffbear and Threadbare looked at each other, confused.

Well you sly devil... Anne said, sitting bolt upright and looking at the Phantom with admiration.

Ah... dat be how it is, Zuula said. Dey got dere own heir, den?

If they dont, then theyre missing a beat, said the Phantom. Its probably what theyre using to sell the rebellion. The hidden heir, the true king, the one of prophecy to cast down the usurpers... makes for a very good story, dont you think? It doesnt even have to be true, just plausible. After all, Melos was a mad king, whos to say he didnt have a mad affair at some point?

Threadbare watched Celia freeze, still and shocked.

I never wanted any part of his name. Or his title, she whispered, barely audible over the hum and clunk and chugging of her armors boiler and engine.

You were not raised as nobility, my dear, the Phantom said. A title is not something you want; it is something you have and must deal with. It is both a responsibility and a privilege, and it can never truly be taken save by someone higher. And there is no one higher, not in your land.

I see, said Threadbare. Was there anything else to discuss, or can we go now?

What? The Phantom stirred and glanced over to him.

Well, you wanted to have a talk with us. Weve had a good one, and Im very grateful. But we have some enemies to fight now, and theyre in the middle of doing some things, if what Ive heard from home is correct. So we should really go and help our friends stop them.

There is one more thing. An offer for you, Cecelia, he said, turning his burning gaze on her once more. Alliance. Aid. Support. Everything I, and by extension Belltollia, can give to help you quell this rebellion, deal with your foes, and even keep your Republic a Republic if you decline to take the throne.

Celia leaned forward, putting her armors visor a foot from his face, as she glared at him. Whats the catch?

The Phantom put his teacup down, reached slowly into his cloak, and withdrew a small box. With a click it opened.

Revealing two golden rings.

Celia flinched.

Jean buried her face in her hands, shoulders shaking.

Oh my goodness! squeaked Fluffbear. A birthday present, yay!

No, its... oh my, Thomasi said, stroking his goatee. Oh wouldnt that throw a wrinkle in things.

Annes eyes widened... widened and narrowed, and Threadbare could not say what emotions surged within her skull, only that they were strong.

Huh. HUH! Zuula said. Dis wasnt just a kidnapping. Dis was a courtship!

Im afraid Im not sure what this means, Threadbare said. Would someone enlighten me, please?

It means he wants to marry me, Celia said. Her voice was uneven, and her armor was still.

A political marriage. You would become queen of Belltollia, and I would step out of the shadows to become its true king. We would throw our full support behind the republic, and with our resources, and a rented airship or two, we could easily supply you with whatever you needed to quash the rebellion and restore peace to your land.

And I would have to marry you, Celia said, her voice quavering.

Is that truly so much to ask? The Phantom said, putting the box on the table and spreading his hands. We need not even live together, though I would be pleased if we did. A nobles marriage, one of duty. To save both our nations. For we have enemies too, and they are mighty and malign. It is a sacrifice, but is it a heavy one?

And it gives you a title. A title that would be recognized by other human nations, Threadbare said.

The Phantom started, his cloak twitching, as he turned his gaze on Threadbare. Yes...

Ye know about that then, Anne asked him.

Stormanorm told me, Threadbare told her. Legitimacy is his quest. But it looks like its Mister Phantoms, too.

Just Phantom is fine.

Thank you. But thats the truth, isnt it? You would stand to gain quite a lot from this marriage.

I would. And so would our children.

Children! Celia jumped straight up, denting the floor and spilling her tea.

Adopted, all adopted. Or built. We can do that, so long as they resemble one or both of us.

I would be a mother? This is... I havent even thought of... I dont know, Celia said, her armors torso turning side to side, as she shook her head and the neckless suit did its best to mimic. I dont know.

I see, said Threadbare. Celia, is it all right if we say well take this under consideration?

Wait, said the Phantom. If youre going to do that, youre welcome to. But I have one last thing to offer you. Come back with me to the stage, please.

Celia didnt respond for a second, and he raised a gloved hand, as he tucked the rings away. Please. I mean you no harm. And I have saved the greatest gift for last.

Finally, her armor stirred, as she turned to face him. We m-might as well see e-everything. Yes.

The curtain was open.

The theater was empty.

Empty, save for one glass bell jar, eight feet tall and four feet around.

And inside, hands folded in front of her, wearing a demure blue dress, eyes shut, deadly still, and her red hair neatly brushed and braided in the way that Threadbare remembered her grandfather doing for her, was Celia.

Not Celia as she was now, with her porcelain shell, and blistergrass hair. But a Celia as she would have been, for this body looked more mature than his little girl had been. Nineteen, twenty, perhaps a bit more, but it mattered not for Threadbare saw the reagent marks anointed on her brow and hands and knew what this was.

A golem shell, he said simply. Youve made her a flesh golem shell.

Celia walked forward slowly, stepping off the stage and making her way to the bell jar. She spread the fingers of her armored gauntlet, and pressed it against the glass. And what she felt Threadbare could not say, though he knew he would be hearing about it later, squeezed tightly in her arms.

You as you would have been, had your daemons not destroyed you, the Phantom said. Still a bit different but with some benefits. You would feel sensations on your skin, again. You would taste and smell, when you cared to eat and breathe. All this I can give you, if

He stopped. The sound of metal rattling against glass rose in that still theater.

And Threadbare realized that she was shaking. Her armored hand was clinking against the glass, over and over.

Shut. Up. Celia said, her voice raw with emotion.

In that moment of silence, in that long pause as his little girl collected himself, an unexpected voice whispered in his ear.

Weve got trouble. Someone just ran into the Bad Still and is attacking it. Theres a lot of screaming. Orders? Cagna said.

Threadbare straightened up. Someones attacking the

You bring me here! Celia roared, amplified voice filled with raw fury. You try to bring me here like this and show me this? You rub my nose in everything Ive lost? And expect me to what, to marry you? Like some fuc... fumping fairytale princess, some stupid fairy story with a happily ever after?

Her gauntlet tightened on the bell jar, finding purchase on its smooth surface, and the grass sang shrill screams as metal scraped and cracks spread.

Cagna whispered again, louder this time and worried. Shit! Some sort of gas... were falling back; this stuff is toxic!

Cecelia, please the Phantom said, walking forward, stretching out a hand. If you want time to think it over, I understand. I just And then he stopped, turning his head, ears twitching.

Weve got trouble, Threadbare said. Jean, where is the exit?

Jean pointed at the doors on the other side of the theater. There, there is where we always went afterward! she said, but her eyes never left Celia, and Threadbare could tell it hurt her to see his little girl in such a state.

We need to go Threadbare started to shout, but he never finished.

With a crash and a slosh, Celias gauntleted fingers ripped through the bell jar, and liquid poured out, splashing across her, spraying the seats around it, as the shell inside slumped, no longer floating.

There are never any happy endings! Celia shouted, practically vibrating with rage. You lying sneak!

But it was the Phantoms roar of rage that shook everyone, as his overwhelming presence filed the theater, held them still as he whirled to turn his burning eyes on the group.

What have you done! What have you done!

And again, for that flash of an instant, Threadbare was frozen by this mans raw charisma.

The Phantom radiated raw anger, as his voice trembled. I would have accepted it if you struck out at me, but you kill innocents, you slay my people! And for what!

It wasnt... us... Threadbare said, but the Phantom buried his face in his hand, even as a trapdoor opened beneath him, and the rabbity figure sunk into the darkness under the stage.

Of course you realize, came his last words, before the trapdoor snapped shut. This means war.

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