Sol awoke at dawn as he always did. Or had since his mother had gifted him the favor of Soltris, that is.

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and rose from his bed.

He- they, for he shared the space with his mother; had a decent bedroom. A pair of beds, one on either side of the room, a nightstand for each. And a curtain down the center of the room for some level of privacy.

They weren't wealthy, but they were surprisingly well off for a family of two, who both worked at the shrine- which was far from a well-paying job when it paid at all.

His mother had made quite a bit of money on her 'pilgrimage'.

As if anyone could- or would, compare her ridiculous adventures to a simple pilgrimage, which were usually dull and relatively safe affairs.

The stories she told of her pilgrimage bordered the ludicrous and danced along the edge of the unbelievable. And Sol was mostly, or at least reasonably sure that the stories were true.

He dressed behind the privacy of the curtain, before glancing around it at her.

She was sprawled in her bed still. And felt a vague sense of irritation due to her being asleep. Did she have work today?

"Mother, do you have work?"

She grumbled.

"Mom?"

"shhh... sleep."

"It's dawn."

"Too early... did my time… be a good boy." She waved him off and curled up even further from him. Clearly awake at this point but not planning to stay that way.

Still, that had answered his question. His mother could be very... this, particularly in the mornings.

But she didn't miss work if she had it. She worked as a gardener for the town's holy shrine.

She had once been a healer of some renown. But she had lost those capabilities when she surrendered Soltris's favor and the title of a Cleric of the Goddess to her son.

It had been nineteen years since she settled back in her home of Riverstead. Her significantly prolonged pilgrimage ended when she became pregnant with him. But she had only sacrificed her capabilities as a cleric to Sol a year ago when he turned eighteen.

And indeed, he had been coming into his own abilities as a cleric even before his mother's gift. But the push had been incredible. Before, the favor he'd earned on his own had been a mild aid throughout the day. Now it had seeped into every facet of his life.

He knew precisely what time it was, always. He woke with the dawn, would never get lost at night- so long as stars could be seen. And a host of other minor magical abilities.

And yet, that was just the surface of his powers. Unlike his mother, Soltris’s influence had not taken the shape of a healer, but warriors' magic in him.

Which was a concerning, profoundly compelling, and frankly exciting hint into what Soltris intended for him.

While he didn't know how to conjure a single healing chant or spell, he could make light bend to him. Blind, burn, guide, and more. In his hands, it was a weapon and tool both.

Thankfully, his pilgrimage was coming soon. In two more years, if all went to plan.

The age of twenty-one was the usual age for such things. Sol could have started it earlier, but his mother insisted he wait till he was of age.

Both suspected his path would be one forged in battle and she wanted him to be more used to the boon from their Goddess before he went out into the world.

The thought of the conflict he expected to come caused him to wonder about taking a paladin's Oath, as he passed the sleeping drakon in the living room to go to the kitchen. A topic which they had discussed just last night, though he had not asked what their Oaths were.

But it was a passing thought. While some clerics did such things, making an Oath to serve a God one was already serving was usually a formality.

For an oath to work, one needed to sacrifice something. And swearing yourself to serve a God you already gained power for serving was usually not seen as much of sacrifice by whatever forces supplied the power for Oaths.

While one could sacrifice something, Not much else could be sacrificed after one swore themselves to a God's service. As you were expected to serve your God till you died or could pass the torch to a sire.

Furthermore, one had to be careful with the wording of an Oath made while in the service of a God and the paladin would have to be very sure they knew the mind and will of their God. As it could be seen as an insult to the God in question, depending on how poorly one worded their Oath.

And finally, with Oaths as rigid as they were, it presented the terrifying possibility of one's Oath being contradictory to the orders of their God, however unlikely it might be.

His mind moved to more straightforward topics as he began to wonder if he should rouse his guests. Surely it would be rude to wake them? But ever since receiving Soltris’s favor, he had developed an almost childish instinct to want people to wake up with the Suns rising. And he was not entirely sure if it was his own will that caused it or his Goddess’s.

He had somewhat tamed it in regards to his mother- he suspected her past service for Soltris had something to do with the leniency. But he found himself vaguely irritated at the possibility of the drakon sleeping well past dawn.

Finally, he decided on a course of action. He would make food for them and just do it loud enough that the brothers asleep in the living room next to the kitchen would be woken by the sound of it being made. This plan allowed him to both be kind and get his way. Which was his favorite sort of plan.

He made sure he'd closed the door to the bedroom so as not to wake his mother with his little scheme and set to cooking.

—-

Their kitchen was practically a luxury and had been what Sol's mother had spent a non-insignificant amount of her money on.

Just the fact that they had a separate room for the kitchen- and grant, pantry. Showed as such. Darcie had gotten the additional room built as soon as she purchased the house from the town, as Riverstead technically owned itself.

The kitchen itself was straight forward in appearance. A series of cupboards lined the walls. And a stone stove sat snuggly into the center of the room. Its chimney rising through the roof.

Sol took a pan hanging from a hook and lit the stove with a blast of heat originating from his hand in a wave. Another small boon from Soltris. He laid the pan atop the stove as he opened a cupboard. Inside was a bag, enchanted to keep its contents cold.

Supposedly his mother had acquired it from a sentient bear she had healed. It was one of the wilder stories his mother told.

He plucked a half dozen eggs from the bag, then glanced at the brothers and decided a full set would be wiser.

He plucked a second pan off another hook and placed it down beside the first. And began humming a hymn as he cracked open the eggs over the pans, he wondered briefly if he should get some milk for them as well. But eventually decided against it, one shouldn't be too hospitable.

While he found he liked the brothers- as much as one could like dragons in miniature who asked endless questions about everything, both obscure and straightforward. Keeping the questioned person in a continuous state of being maddened over answering common knowledge. Or deeply frustrated over being asked something they couldn't answer... actually, did he like them?

He flipped the eggs.

Yes, he thought he liked them. If only for the novelty of them being war lizards that seemed to be genuinely good people, discarding first assumptions.

In fact, they seemed better than most. From what little Sol knew of them.

He hummed to himself. On the other hand, it was quite easy to seem like good folk when someone was doing you a kindness, as he was doing by giving them a place to stay.

But then on yet another hand, they had given the innkeeper money for the trouble they'd caused her. Despite having no obligation too. And her having been, In Sol's humble opinion, quite rude about the whole thing.

Yes, they were good people. He finally decided and decided he would offer them milk. It was even chilled, like the eggs. More so to keep it from souring, but he preferred it cold. Most did.

Finally, the brothers stirred, though now that Sol thought about it. It hadn't actually been that long, for all his mental debating. The eggs hadn't even finished cooking yet.

He stuck his head into the living room and greeted them with a 'Good morning.' And the two drakon rose and greeted him rather warmly in turn.

"I made you eggs." he offered. "And we have milk too if you want it, chilled."

One of them answered, he still couldn't tell them apart. They even sounded the same to him with their strange accents. "Thank you, Sol. And we'll have the milk if you're offering."

They seemed incredibly well-rested, not even remotely drowsy like his mother would be. Or even how he felt to some degree when he awoke.

They were morning people, the type that rose with the dawn even without the aid of a Goddess.

Clearly, they were good people.

As he set the table for them, he vaguely contemplated getting them name plates of some sort so he could tell them apart. However, asking them to wear that would be incredibly awkward, and thus he passed the idea off. Besides, he could tell them apart from their clothing. Now if only he could remember which set of clothes belonged to which name...

"What's your plan for today?" he asked the two brothers.

One of them spoke, Soltris knew which. "Well, Major gave us the idea to go around helping people to help make us less scary."

"...Go on."

The drakon blinked. "Well, were going to take the advice. of course."

Sol took a moment to choose his words. "...So, you're just going to go around asking to help people?"

"Well. Yes."

"...I think I can help with that, actually."

—-

They had followed Sol after he explained his plan, though they weren't sure they were entirely comfortable with it.

They were going to a Sanctum of Light. A shrine to Soltris located in the center of the town.

It was a somewhat artistic rendition of reality. The garden was well cared for and contained various plants, both native and exotic. Indeed, the garden was just shy of extravagant and very well cared for. A maze of trimmed plants, many shaped to look like animals or weapons and all sorts of things. Mostly the handiwork of Darcie, or by someone she taught. Because she was not just satisfied as an adventurer of relative renown and witness to likely at least a dozen known battles. She had to be an excellent gardener as well.

The brothers were beginning to suspect that this was just how humans were.

In the center of the garden stood a large marble sphere, practically a boulder at least five feet tall. A second sphere half the size and of the same material rested atop a metal pole next to it.

Then, a few more feet away from it, another sphere sat atop another metal pole, smaller than both and painted in shades of green and blue.

Finally, forming a crescent surrounding the painted sphere, eight more stone spheres sat.

Each was a little larger than Sol's head and painted in various colors, of a collection of shades and hues from blues and reds, to whites and blacks, and all manner in-between.

It was not difficult for the brothers to recognize the intent of the sculpture, the most significant sphere, and its cousin beside it represented the suns. And the collection of nine spheres was the world and the eight moons that formed a half-circle around it.

Other celestial bodies were missing, but perhaps the sculpture was not finished. Or maybe the town simply didn't care about them.

Asgar looked at the art piece. "Why are symbols of Ditrix kept here?" for that was what they'd come to retrieve.

Sol walked forward to the sculpture, hand hovering above a pale green sphere, one of the moons that Asgar recognized as fourth to show itself in the sky.

"Beatha, the Moon of Life. She serves both Ditrix and Soltris. We keep a few symbols of Ditrix so as not to disrespect either her or Beatha."

He walked away from the sculpture, going to a shed the brothers only now saw. It seemed to be almost camouflaged into the overgrowth.

And based on the state of care in the garden, it was likely intentionally done so.

He continued his impromptu lesson. "Beatha is not unique in that regard, most of the moons serve another besides Soltris. They are her diplomats to the other deities."

Sol produced a key, unlocking the shed and stepping inside. Exiting moments later carrying a pair of armbands.

"Here." he handed the two white armbands to the brothers.

Both had a symbol of Ditrix on them. The emblem was of two hands shaking.

"There we are, put those on. They should make people fear you a little less if they see you as healers or carriers."

"Carriers?"

Sol smiled. "It's a telling name. Someone has to get the dying off the battlefields to the sanctuary tents; those are the carriers. At the very least, they carry people off of battlefields once the fighting is over. But there are stories of them running into active ones to retrieve wounded too."

"I had meant to ask," Asgar spoke up. "Why can they do this? Why does this mark guard them? and us, now?"

"It doesn't always, some people ignore it. And sometimes the healers, or carriers- more often the latter. Get hurt accidentally. But it works more often than not."

Sol cleared his throat. "As for why, part of it is because of a treatise. I don't know all the details, but some time ago a pretty bad war happened. I think the dragon gods were involved."

Sol paused, making sure he was getting his facts in order.

"But once it ended, the victors got together and wrote up a treatise and made agreements. Ditrix, A goddess of peace, was inherently invited. Apparently, she pushed hard for the other gods to recognize her mark, and those carrying them as non-combatants. As well as anyone in their care. With the clear benefit being that believers on both sides of any conflict wouldn't be exterminated to the last by each other if there were battlefield sanctuaries."

"A war involving the Dragon gods? You mean Tavig and Junda?" Asgar asked

"Those are the ones, I believe. I'm not terribly literate in their scriptures. You follow them?"

He guessed. It wasn't a hard guess to make.

"Not Junda," Asgar spoke, with no small amount of distaste. "we serve Tavig, the protector and judge. It was Junda that started the war if you're talking about the one I believe you are. It took place a thousand years ago."

"That sounds about right."

Asgar felt a small amount of satisfaction for being the one to educate Sol for once. An unusual state of affairs lately.

"By the way, don't fight anyone while wearing these. it's a good way to get cursed by Ditrix, or at the very least lynched by a mob."

The brothers did a double-take and suddenly began handling the bands gently. As if it would bite them. However, they still put them on.

"So, I've got you to where people will hesitate to judge you. Now what?" Sol asked.

"Now, we get started." Argus spoke with a nod.

—-

The gravity Argus had spoken with earlier did not do an excellent job of presenting what they'd actually spend their day doing.

Riverstead was a peaceful town. People weren't in trouble.

And as such, the vaguely heroic activities Argus had in mind simply weren't achievable. There wasn't a need for them.

If Sol had been with them, they might have avoided the trouble they'd run into. But he had a duty to serve as the town’s 'listener'. Which was a 'holy' duty that consisted of him sitting in a booth, next to which sat another booth that the citizens of Riverstead would enter.

Once inside, they'd speak to him through a screen about whatever that troubled them. 'Presenting to the Light.' it was called, apparently.

It seemed unnecessarily ceremonial to the brothers when one could simply talk to Sol whenever he was around, no boxes needed.

The trouble they'd run into was the guards of Riverstead. They had been fined again, they'd gone looking for folks in need of help with a task, any task. But apparently going door to door and knocking was always unacceptable. Not just when trying to ask directions as the brothers had previously thought. Unacceptable, even if all someone wanted to do was help the occupants.

The brothers felt like the whole concept was ridiculous but had to remind themselves that they were 'scary' which was likely the real reason. The guards were probably just being polite, so they didn't spook the townsfolk. Or so they assumed.

Luckily the guard broke their streak of ill-fortune when they realized why the brothers had been going door to door. They offered them a chance to work off the fine they'd just received for “disturbing the peace”; clearly a made-up charge. They hadn't declared war on anyone.

Still, it gave them a chance to be helpful to the town and get their plan underway.

The guards had set a mountain of labor on the brothers, from polishing armor and weapons, to cutting firewood.

It was during this process that townsfolk had heard that the two terrifying- at least subjectively terrifying, drakon had decided to begin doing menial tasks for free.

This had gotten them some mild attention when word spread that the two brothers were doing the somewhat monotonous labor of cutting up firewood in lieu of payment. Multiple townsfolk took the opportunity to add their own wood to the pile.

While most of the town either didn't hear of the brother's actions or didn't need their help to begin with, it was appreciated in the elderly part of the community. Who almost always needed wood to keep warm, even if winter was beginning to end. And struggled to get the wood cut themselves.

The town slowly began to warm to them. As folks who were struggling with one task or another found they could turn to the pair of strange strangers for aid. Or perhaps, less flatteringly. Found they could shovel work they disliked onto them.

It was not all cutting wood, of course, the brothers were big and strong. And thus were saddled with various heavy lifting jobs.

Not that the brothers seemed to mind and took to the work happily. And were unbothered by the biting chill of winter's end that ebbed and flowed seemingly at random.

Luckily for the twins, they weren't forced to work entirely for free. As most folks had the courtesy to offer them food for the labor, which allowed the brothers to be a lightweight burden for Sol and Darcie. Best of all, to Argus's absolute delight, Beatrice had apologized to them.

They apologized back again as well, and as a small way of helping make amends, happily offered their labor to her.

She'd taken them up on it and had them move casks of alcohol, then, in turn, offered them a tankard on the house. The thought was appreciated. However, the brothers found the strange, vaguely burning liquid not to their tastes.

It took almost a week before people stopped jumping at the sight of them, or going to the other side of the street as they passed them by. But they did eventually stop, and in a handful of cases- usually amongst the aforementioned elderly, they were greeted warmly by name.

It was not like their home, of course, where everyone was practically family. Even with the relatively new additions to the tribe. But it was better than when they had first walked into the town, by leagues.

By the time word got out that they were paladins, rumors that had begun to be spread were furthered with the information. Telling all sorts of stories about the two.

It was said they were Oathbound servants of a great warlord, supposedly their warlord died. But their Oaths compelled them to still seek out someone to serve.

Perhaps they were servants of Ditrix on some strange form of pilgrimage that only drakon did.

There were even stories about them owing to a life debt to a pilgrim from the town. A pilgrim who had later died, leaving the debt unpaid. They had supposedly come to pay back the debt as best they could to the town their savior hailed from. Though suspiciously, no one could think of who they could have owed a life debt too.

Most knew these rumors were false. Or at least suspected as much. But it made for fun conversation in an otherwise sleepy little town.

—-

It was during the end of the week of their good samaritan work that they found themselves loading a wagon as the first sun rose, one of the same wagons of the caravan followed into Riverstead.

The convoy was heading out eastward. The wagon train had entered the town from the west, and now that they had bought and sold all they would and could respectively, they were moving onto the next town.

They loaded the horse-drawn vehicles as a guard watched them, he appeared less interested in guarding the cargo and more curious in the brothers.

"So, what's your story anyway?" the guard who was a human of elvish heritage asked.

They had already introduced themselves to each other, and his name was Singard.

He stood just shy of the brother's height, lazily lying on some crates they hadn't gotten to loading yet while smoking from a pipe.

Where the brothers were bulky, he was lanky. And they were almost three times as wide as he was. His skin was coarse, almost bark-like. Not just rough flesh. But actual bark growing on him- or at least something close to it. From the flesh on the back of his hands to his forearms and shoulders. And likely more places besides that the brothers could not see.

Where the population of Riverstead seemed to have facial hair of an almost fur-like texture that appeared to the brothers to be not dissimilar to animal fur, much like a fox's. Singard and his fellow caravan guards were all mostly clean-shaven.

And where the residents of Riverstead had rounded ears, the caravan guards- which were apparently from a town called Goldhome, had long ears.

The shortest of their ears was at least six inches and the longest of which seemed lengthier than a full foot.

The way their ears moved and twitched about would not have been ill-fitting on a rabbit.

Asgar shook himself from his musings as Argus answered the question for them.

"We are travelers, hoping to do good in the world."

"Well, I can tell that much." he nodded to the symbol of Ditrix on their arms. "But I mean, to afford to do nothing but help folks for free. You must be quite well off."

It was a comment the brothers didn't really understand, mostly because they'd never heard the term 'well off.' before. But also due to them not genuinely seeing the money they had on them as theirs. And more a pouch forever labeled a gift of Major's.

Argus needed clarification from the guard. "Well, off? I don't understand."

"I mean, you got a lot of money, don't ya?"

Argus stopped, holding a wooden box containing various animal furs. Before shrugging and putting it in the cart.

"I don't really know, I don't think so." he thought of the pouch Asgar was wearing on his belt that Major had given them.

Singard leaned forward. "Do you use your scales then?"

Argus looked down at his arms questioningly, before turning the look towards Singard. "For what?"

"Well, for buying stuff you need. Food, clothes, and stuff." The man shrugged. "Seems to me, you just grow money."

Argus and Asgar shared a look. They'd made a note of Major's warning. Their scales effectively put a bounty on their head of a sum equal to the number of their scales.

But they hadn't thought of cashing in on that bounty themselves, even in a limited way.

They quickly thought it over, before shaking their heads.

"It seems very strange to trade our scales away, and disgusting as well." Asgar patiently informed the man. Then Argus jumped in. "Besides, we'd have to wait for them to fall out. And that doesn't happen naturally unless they're damaged."

While granted, they could tear undamaged scales from their flesh, such an experience would not be dissimilar to a human ripping their fingernails off.

"But you could if you needed too." Singard pointed out, he seemed vaguely insistent on it. "You don't really need money as much as some folks do. If it ever gets too bad, you can just trade your own scales."

Argus thought for a moment but could not help but shiver over the concept of using his scales as a currency. And the more he thought about this interaction with this human he'd just met, the more his mind screamed Major's warning at him.

Argus replied with grunt to Singard's statement as he shot his brother a look, sharing his concerns.

He began mentally scanning over the conversation that had been taking place and assessing if either he or his brother were at risk from the guard.

He looked around, spying the other guards. And wondering if he and his brother could escape a fight between them and the group if it came to it.

Singard shrugged and stopped talking for a while after that. Half keeping watch, but mostly eyeing the brothers.

Once they finished, he hopped off the cart. And offered a handshake to either brother.

As he shook Asgar's hand, he called out and pointed. "Hey, what's that there?"

The brothers tensed and turned, looking where he was pointing and spotting only the flying form of a Screech Goshawk.

Asgar's eyes narrowed in suspicion, straying to the other guards some distance away. But they were either lazing about as Singard had been or helping load other carts.

"Just a Goshawk." Argus replied for them both, tearing his eyes from the sky and looking at Singard.

"Huh, I've never seen one before." Singard said with a shrug, then patted Asgar on the back.

"Well, thanks for the help, big guys. But it looks like we're just about done packing things up."

The brothers looked around again, and indeed. It did appear that they had finished up just as everyone else did. The shorter red-skinned humans were getting up into the driver's seats of their wagons.

And as they were, a call from the caravan leader came out, checking if everyone was ready.

A chorus of 'yessirs' replied to the call, one nearby as a Singard threw his own into the reply. Before hopping up into the driver's seat as helping a red-skinned woman up into the seat beside him.

"Hope we meet again, boys!" Singard called with a wave. And just like that, they began to leave.

The brothers got out of their way and watched as the caravan left.

Finally, Argus asked him, brother. "He made you uneasy near the end. Yes?" he already knew the answer, but it was better to ask than not.

"Yes." Asgar nodded. "He seemed too interested in how much money we had, too, not just the scales. And had never seen a Goshawk before. "

"I felt nothing from the Oath, maybe it was just the scales? Not the most comfortable of conversations... and too recent." Argus admitted they had lost some of their own scales recently. and found a set of someone else’s worn upon an Orc chief, thus making the topic Singard had pursued even more uncomfortable.

"Maybe." Asgar shrugged. "I think we are done working for today, yes?"

"Yes."

—-

Despite their original intentions, the brothers continued to work. They quickly found themselves bored otherwise. They had gone to the Sanctum of Light and aided Darcie in her gardening work.

However, the day eventually began to come to a close. The brothers had returned to the Kegan household. They had gotten there well ahead of the members of the house and there really wasn't any more work for them to do at the shrine. So they took the time to practice the grapples Major had shown them. Asgar's limp was still present and gave his brother a distinct advantage.

Luckily for Asgar, he did not spend too much time getting knocked over by his brother.

As Sol eventually showed, walking down the street to his home and calling out to them. "How was your day, friends?"

"More good than not," Argus called back.

"I am glad to hear it," he spoke with a smile, circling around them and entering the door.

The brothers and the cleric had since become much friendlier with each other. Though unbeknownst to the brothers, Sol still had much difficulty telling them apart.

"I will start on dinner. My mother, and your... Major, are out at Beatrice's tonight."

"Ah, do you want us to get anything?"

"I think we are low on ham if you wish to acquire some before the butchers close for the night, and I saw some of the hunters bring in an elk, so old Pete will have venison."

"I'll get it," Asgar offered, brushing himself off and calling 'goodbye' to Argus and Sol.

The remaining pair began to chat amicably while Sol started to set out what he needed to cook dinner. Asgar returned surprisingly quickly, entering the house and promptly calling, "Brother, come here!"

Worry poked Argus's mind due to the urgency in his voice and quickly obeyed. "What is wrong, Asgar?'

"Do you have the money?"

"No, you carried the bag... brother, did you lose the bag?"

"I don't know when I could have!"

"Maybe you dropped it somewhere?"

"The shrine?"

"Where else?"

Sol interrupted their mild season of panic. "Friends, you should likely look around here first. you probably dropped it in your roughhousing."

The brothers felt a surge of embarrassment at overreacting and dutifully searched the outside of the house where they'd been practicing. Then when they didn't find it, they searched the interior of the house. Finally, when they found nothing in the house, and even Sol was concerned. They went to the Sanctum.

They searched thoroughly, calling on Major and Darcie. Firstly to ask if Darcie had seen it- she hadn't. So they asked them for help, instead.

"Maybe where we were helping the caravan load up?" Argus offered.

And then they searched there, thoroughly.

Major rumbled down to the brothers. "Is there any chance it was stolen?"

Asgar went to shake his head, then stopped, sharing a meaningful look with his brother.

"We thought he might have been sizing us up for our scales, but a guard from the caravan spoke to us. Asking if we grew money."

"Troubling. Did he get close to you at any point? Close enough to take the bag?"

The brothers thought, remembering the handshake and the interrupt of the bird. No, the interruption of Singard who had pointed it out and supposedly never seen that type before despite being common in the region.

The brothers describe the events to Major, who sighed. "I've seen that trick before. It's not even a complex one."

He caught himself, catching the crestfallen looks on brothers' faces. "You'll have to go after him tomorrow."

"Why not tonight?"

"It's night, and you've been working all day. Caravans travel slows, you'll catch up. Go and rest."

Major walked with them to the house, excusing himself and leaving for the night.

They slept. Tomorrow they'd be chasing a thief.