Easterlynn was the last major settlement before the long reach of the western foothills. It was where three rivers came together, trickling down from the tail-end of the northern mountains, and bubbling up from the moors to west. They often flooded and receded on a semi-regular basis, depositing fresh, fertile soil from the wild lands at the doorsteps of farmers well-disposed to take advantage of it. A clever series of dikes and floodbreaks ensured that the fields stayed dry when they needed to, and the buildings that had been incautiously constructed had failed the test of time and tide; only the ones that had been prudently-placed and well-built were still around.

It was a patient sort of place, a green hollow of rolling fields and occasional houses fringed by second-growth trees that spoke to the frugality of the farmers who would much rather plant a few seeds and wait a few decades than pay extra to import lumber.

Tiny figures on distant hills stopped and leaned on their shovels and rakes as the party passed by. Tiny figures on closer hills did the same thing. Tiny figures in really close fields looked up, gave nods, and leaned and stared just like their more distant cousins did.

“The halvens mainly farm this side of things,” Apollyon said, nodding back, and occasionally offering a wave or two when he got a smile or a particularly deep nod. “My home, and most of the human farms and estates are on the other side of the First Muddy river.”

Threadbare tried waving at a few halvens too, but the few that looked his way offered only worried looks. Once he saw a short, matronly halven hustling her children inside, which was a pity. They were pointing and laughing and the youngest was trying to charge straight toward him, and he would have welcomed some playtime. But the mother threatened them all with a loss of second supper, and that brought them into line.

“They're afraid of us?” Buttons said, tilting her head in confusion.

“They be like that around here,” Glub said. “Not afraid, just... afraid of whatever excitement we might bring. Halvens get off on boredom. Most of'em, anyways.”

“Dear heavens, don't let any of them hear you say that,” Apollyon blanched. “Even a hint of a double entendre or anything remotely to do with sex and they'll talk about it for decades. Hold it up as an example of how warped and improper humans can be.”

“Well I ain't one of those,” Glub shrugged. “And I known plenty of halvens who get up to stuff.”

“Well yes, that happens, but they're very careful to keep it secret. Mainly because they don't want to get talked about for decades and held up as an example of how warped and improper their family can be.”

“I'm, mmmm, sensing a trend, here,” Dracosnack commented.

“It's another reason most non-halven locals stay on the other side of the river,” Apollyon grimaced. “It's less trouble all the way around.”

“So...” Buttons said, looking between the fields, at the various wary and less-than-friendly faces, all watching for signs of impropriety, “I can see how that keeps things nice and boring and bland on a day-to-day level, but why are they turning that sort of attitude onto us?”

“Oh they're not, they're like this with everyone,” Apollyon said. “To tell the truth, there's plenty of human farmers around here that are the same way. You're strangers. Don't take it personally.”

“I'm just saying, we don't live here. We don't have a stake in this place, we're just passing through. Why should we care about a bunch of farmers talking shit about us for the next few decades?” Buttons asked, and a nearby housewife who had been pretending not to eavesdrop gasped and clutched at her pearls, hairy feet flashing as she ran for her house. The little toy had said a SWEAR, after all! What would she do next?

Threadbare hurried his pace a bit, until he was next to Buttons. “That thing you just said there.”

“Swearing? Ah, sorry sir, won't do it again. Bad habits and all. Army for life, I'm really, really—”

She was getting worked up again, and Threadbare patted her shoulder, tried to comfort her. “No, not that. I have many friends who swear. I don't do it myself, but I understand why they do. I was commenting on that question you asked.”

“Question? Sir?” Painted eyebrows twisted as Buttons tried to remember what she'd said.

“You asked why you should care what farmers say about you for a few decades.”

“Ah. Yeah. That one.” Buttons grinned nervously, which involved opening her mouth and tilting her head down slightly to compensate.

“I think we should care because we are going to be here for longer than a few decades. We are going to be here a very, very long time unless something manages to destroy us, and even then we might come back. You have your soulstone, right? You all do?” Threadbare looked around at the group.

Every head nodded, save for one. Apollyon looked uncomfortable, and glanced away.

Threadbare filed it away to ask about later, and kept on his original train of thought. “And since we are going to be around a very long time, it is best to make sure that other people do not misunderstand us. That's what I think, anyway. We are not going anywhere and hopefully they will not, so it is best if people get used to us and understand that we are not trouble.”

It was a big idea. It was one that he and Celia had talked about quite often, with varying levels of complexity and nuance.

“I can't say that I ever thought of it that way, sir,” Buttons said, her smile shrinking a bit. “I don't really look ahead that far. That's officer shiiii... officer stuff.”

“That'll work for now,” Glub said, “And I dig you. I ain't no leader myself. But it doesn't hurt to sit and do some thinking eventually. Speakin' as a stranger in a strange land, you're always gonna be dealing with folks different from yourself. It's not a bad idea to have a few options for that, you dig?”

“Mmm. It strikes me... that this could be a bit of a, hm, opportunity,” Dracosnack said.

“Did you have something in mind?” Threadbare looked over to him, hearing tin creak as Buttons relaxed next to him. He kept scaring her, and he wasn't sure why. It was a bit upsetting.

“There are... five of us. And... Apollyon, you are going to go to your family home, yes? And Threadbare, you expressed a hmmm, interest in talking with the Councilor?”

“I did.”

“And Glub, you have boasted of adding a tavern from here to your, hmmm... bar list?”

“Gotta, man,” Glub said. “It's a Bardic tradition. Gotta perform at a new place everywhere I go. I lose cred if I don't.”

“Why don't we, hmmmm, split up then? Attempt to make a, hm... good impression.”

“I don't even know if the Councilor's in,” Threadbare confessed. “She may be at the Capitol. It's probably better if I do that task alone, and it may be very short.”

“Dibs on going with our meatsack,” Buttons said, jerking a thumb back at Apollyon.

The young man paled. “Er... I really don't think that's a good—”

“Relax, it'll be fine!” Buttons bounded back, and hesitated. “Probably shouldn't jump up on you when these halvens are watching.”

Apollyon turned paler.

“Dibs settles it,” Dracosnack said. “There is no stronger toy golem tradition. We must abide by it.”

“Er,” Apollyon said.

“Well I'm going to a tavern regardless,” Glub said. “So that leaves you, ma man. You wanna come on another bar run?”

“I still have stains from the last one,” Dracosnack said, looking down with irritation at his patchwork lower body. “Clean and Press only did part of the job, I can tell, I can just, hm.... feel it in my seams. No, I will go with Threadbare. I too wish to ask the Councilor a few, mmmm, questions.”

“If you're sure,” Threadbare said. “There might not even be a meeting.”

“I think you, hmm... you underestimate your name, Mister Threadbare,” Dracosnack said. “It opens doors that you may not even notice once you're past them.”

And that was the case indeed. When the two golems found their way to Proudsmythe manor, and knocked on the door, they were politely asked to wait. And in fairly short order, a well-built and tanned man with a jovial smile that didn't quite reach his eyes came down and welcomed them to his Ladyship's home.

“I'm afraid that Lady Eastwynn-Proudsmythe is out at the moment... it's that business with the madness in the Rumpus Room, you understand. All Councilors are at the capitol right now, talking about what's to be done to ensure that such dangerous things don't ever happen again.”

“I see,” Threadbare said. “I was actually hoping to talk to her about another matter. That thing about human marriage and all.”

“Ah, the purity and piety act.” The man nodded, and leaned back in his chair, folding his fingers together. “My name is Eustace, Eustace Thrump. I am her Ladyship's secretary, and I can answer any questions you have about that, and pass anything you wish to say along to the Lady Councilor when she returns.”

“I see,” Threadbare nodded. He was already slipping back into what he thought of as his Councilor mindset. From here on he would watch his words, and be careful what he said, as well as watching how he said it. This was how you politicked, and it was necessary if you wanted to settle things with words, rather than spells and claws. “Why is the Council making laws that affect the freedom of our citizens to choose whom they love?”

“We're not. We're only making laws that affect marriage, love has nothing to do with it.” The man laughed at his own joke, then trailed off when nobody joined him. “Er. My apologies. A bit of levity, that.”

“I see,” Threadbare nodded, and stood up a bit taller on his chair. He could barely see over the edge of the table, and it was difficult to look the man in the eye. “I believe you. I was given to understand that love is one of the primary reasons for marriage. There's quite a bit of literature on the subject.”

“Ah, okay, I can see where the confusion is coming from. This is a primarily human problem, that only affects humans, which is why we kept the restrictions of the law to humans,” Eustace waved a hand. “Are you familiar with how noble titles are passed down?”

“I am.”

“Well Cylvania, being a frontier kingdom, has always had issues with... call it succession interruptis.”

“Untimely deaths,” Dracosnack spoke for the first time.

The man glanced at him like he'd just done a parlor trick. “Yes, I suppose that's a blunter way of saying it. And the tradition has been that in the event of a noble's death without heirs, the title can pass over to a surviving spouse... a legally married one.”

Threadbare saw some flaws with this. “It seems like an issue of massive overreach to solve what is, quite frankly, a limited problem. This is really only a thing that affects nobles. Why did you try to extend it to cover every human in Cylvania?”

“Well... Sir? Lord?”

“Just Threadbare.”

“Well then, Threadbare, we didn't try to extend it. We succeeded.” The man's smile shrunk a bit. “Frankly we would have only applied it to nobility, but the Council's been quite busy these last few years eradicating a lot of old precedent, and eliminating a lot of the privileges and legal distinctions between nobility and the commonfolk.”

Threadbare nodded. “That was necessary. There were some very bad abuses of the system. The Council did have to become involved. We had a big talk about this.”

“Yes, and the very few nobles who abused their positions were punished for it,” Eustace said, speaking as if to a child. “But the end result is that now when we have to change a law to fix a noble problem, we can't just call it a fix for nobles. And since the only nobles affected are the human ones in Cylvania, it was simpler to change the laws for humans.”

“Which doesn't change the fact that you are impacting commonfolk. Many of whom had no say in this law.”

The man's smile grew, slipped into a sneer. “Actually we're not. That's the glorious thing of it. It only regulates LEGAL marriage. Most marriages in Cylvania are common law. Neither the Council nor the lords have any say in who marries whom. It's only when a noble marries, that it is recognized by law. And so the majority of the non-noble humans in this valley can marry whomever they please, and do. They can marry golems, or gribbits, or even sheep or dogs for all we care. It's none of our business.”

Threadbare wasn't sure he liked the idea of his species being considered as the same romantic category as livestock. He was fairly certain now that this man really didn't like him, and was only being polite because he had to.

Still, he was having trouble thinking of a good response. He hadn't known that Cylvania law worked that way when it came to marriages.

“Excuse me Mister Thrump. I have a, hmmm.... question about that, if you don't mind,” Dracosnack asked, as he pulled a book from his pack.”

“Of course. Ask away! I am happy to answer any concerns you might have, mister...”

“Just Dracosnack. I don't have a gender. I'm a toy.”

“Well, it's refreshing to hear you admit that.” Eustace said, then winced. The sneer disappeared, as he cleared his throat. “Not that I meant anything by that.”

“None taken. It was my personal decision. However many of my friends do not share my viewpoint, and have decided to adopt genders. If only to make them easier to address in the course of their duties,” Dracosnack said, leafing through the book.

Threadbare snuck a look at the title, which was “Assault and Barristry for fun and profit: A primer of Cylvanian law and significant cases.”

Finally, Dracosnack seemed to find what he was looking for. “Your posit is that the law only affects human nobles, yes?”

“In practice, yes.” Eustace nodded. “And we're not annulling any marriages that have already happened. So it's not harming or restricting anyone, really. If someone wants a... dolly on the side, they can, they just can't pass their title over to them.”

That was definitely a slur, Threadbare thought. Eustace was showing a bit of stress now.

“But it still covers every human within Cylvania.”

“Well yes, it has to, but it really doesn't affect—”

“Including human golems.”

“I don't believe we have any of those.”

“Oh? We don't?” Dracosnack looked up at him. “Mmm... I think you are mistaken.”

“No, I'm not. The Council decided, early on, that no flesh golems were to be crafted as the practice was foul and disrespectful to the remains of the dead,” Eustace squinted at Threadbare. “Unless you've been sneaking about behind our back about that. Threadbare.”

“I haven't. My skill with that is still at level one,” Threadbare folded his hands. “I believe my friend is referring to golems with the Human job.”

“What?” Eustace blinked. “No no, the law only affects actual humans.”

“Does it?” Dracosnack asked. “Do you happen to have a copy of it with you?”

“I don't need one. We kept it simple on purpose,” Eustace snapped. “Only humans may legally be joined in marriage to humans.”

“Mmmm... Well then, it seems, hm, quite simple. My friend Buttons has the human job. So she is free to legally marry other humans without breaking the law.”

“Is your friend Buttons a human?” Eustace snapped.

“Yes. She is also a golem.”

“Then she's a golem!”

“But she has the human job.”

“But she can't have children!”

“Is that the determinator for humanity, here?” Dracosnack asked.

“Well.. it's one of them...”

“Because there are many people who are sterile, or cannot have children due to medical reasons,” Dracosnack pressed on. “Are they no longer human?”

Eustace was sweating now. “No, of course not, that's ridiculous.”

“I'm just trying to, hmmm, understand, what exactly you mean when you refer to HUMANS in this law,” Dracosnack said.

“It's just... it only really affects nobles,” Eustace said, weakly.

“Nobles like Celia,” Threadbare said, slowly.

Eustace went pale. “No, of course... I mean... she's... she WAS human...”

“And now she can't have children due to medical reasons,” Threadbare said quietly. “Well no, she could adopt. We've talked that over, and put it on the table assuming she could find a good father to marry.”

“Which raises another issue,” Dracosnack went on, his voice as pleasant as it had been throughout, “there are several precedents in here of nobles adopting children, and passing their title on to them.”

Eustace swallowed hard.

“Really, I'm just trying to understand what you consider the denominator for mmm... determining who's human and who isn't,” Dracosnack offered. “Because you may be affecting more people than you think here. And opening up opportunities for people you didn't consider with the initial law. My friend Buttons certainly wasn't considering marrying what she calls a... fleshsack before this, but after I inform her that this is now an option, I believe she may want to go courting. And she does seem fond of young Apollyon.”

Eustace was slumped in his chair now, and the sweat pattered down his face like a fountain gone awry. But he rallied. “Priests!”

“Excuse me?” Threadbare offered.

“Priests! The gods will decide! That's... that's a part of a legal marriage, the church can decide who gets married! And there's no way in hell— no way they'd bless a union like THAT.”

“Now that's interesting,” Dracosnack said, “Because first and foremost, I don't believe that every religion has doctrine forbidding such unions. And secondly, even in the cases that a religion does, I can find places where exceptions have been made. Such as the case of Smith and Galadrian, and the legitimacy of the half-elven heirs in both societies...”

It went on for a bit more, but finally Threadbare decided that the poor man would have a stroke and had mercy on him. “At any rate, you can see our concerns,” Threadbare said, and took Dracosnack's hand. “We had best be going. Some friends are waiting on us. Please pass our concerns on to Lady Easterlynn-Proudsmythe at your earliest convenience.”

They'd made it perhaps two minutes down the road when a carriage sped out of the estate, driver whipping the horses frantically as it sped past them, toward the Capitol.

“I think that went rather well,” Dracosnack said, picking himself out of the ditch where he'd jumped to avoid being run over. “That was a good legal discussion. I got another Barrister level out of it.”

“I think so too. That it went rather well, I mean,” Threadbare said, dusting off his top hat and replacing it on his head. I wonder how the others are doing? Let's go and see if everyone's at the tavern by now.”