While the Drakon brothers were far from masters of intrigue, neither were they fools.

So after the baffling show made in Calum’s shop and home, accompanied by the blatant falsehoods told there; they were far from surprised when Sol told them that not only was that not his cousin, but that something was terribly wrong in the town of Dale.

The Cleric continued, "Whoever it was, looked just like him."

Asgar found it hard to believe that Sol frequently asked such leading questions of his cousin and found himself having to ask.

"How did you know it wasn't him? Do you normally ask such strange questions?"

Sol shook his head.

"I thought he was acting odd as soon as we met him. He was always a very timid man, Whoever that man was, acted far too outgoing." He resumed, "Then he struggled with the keys like he didn't know which would open the door and asked vague questions like he didn't know how many family members I had."

Sol coughed, then somewhat awkwardly spoke.

"Finally, he took his sweet time asking why I was flanked by a pair of giant Dragon men. That should have been terrifying to him, no offense."

Argus shrugged. "None is taken."

"It was enough to make me suspicious that something was amiss, and so I tricked him. By calling him, step-brother."

Argus nodded. "I thought this strange, but I thought my translation was lacking."

Sol took on a worried grin. "Your trader's tongue is quite good, I wouldn't worry about that. Just to be sure. I asked him about any difficulties he had moving."

Argus grinned back, an expression that showed his terrifying rows of teeth. "He hasn't moved."

Sol shook his head. "No, he's lived in that house almost his whole life. I eluded to some non-specific difficulties he might have had, then acted as if he should have known you both under those made-up names. But I truly knew for sure when he addressed me as 'step-brother' himself."

Asgar was less confident. "Is it not possible his head has been struck, and memories are missing?"

Sol shook his head. "Maybe. And Maybe he met Drakon and got on good terms with them. So he wasn't scared of you, and maybe he decided not to tell me about his missing memories for some reason or another. It doesn't explain to him not responding to the letters, or how empty the town is."

The Drakon continued to play devil's advocate, "What if he was trying to warn you of danger by acting strangely?"

Sol paused and that, before shaking his head. "No, his method doesn't make sense. And even if you're right, that still means something is wrong."

A moment of self-doubt had crept into Sol's mind with Asgar's words. Still, it was quickly swept away by remembering the feeling of unfamiliarity that he'd felt from his 'cousin.'

Asgar broke him from his moment of inquisition. "What do we do now then?"

"We need to look around. See what's really wrong. That man wasn't my cousin, which means..." Sol swallowed a lump threatening to form in his throat. "It means he's either dead or captured by someone." The utterance of those words turned the vaguely worried grin into an expression of genuine concern.

It sobered the brothers and Argus lost his own grin that had steadily grown from hearing Sol's clever ruse. Pensively he asked, "What are we looking for?"

"Anything odd." The holy man said vaguely. Waving his hand into the air as he did as if it conveyed all the details they needed to know.

The brothers shared a look, while they had been in a human town the previous week, they were still far from experienced in what the scaleless folk considered 'normal.' They weren't entirely sure they would be able to recognize anything 'odd' as a result.

Still, they followed Sol as they explored the town.

As they set pace, an air of something ominous settled. They were being watched. They could feel it.

—-

The creature followed the strange travelers. The two Drakon were a first. It had never met one of their kind before, she had. But It was not she, no matter how much it wanted to be.

It took a moment to wonder if the Drakon were male or female, the one she had met was green and bore wings.

But those memories were vague and clouded. And it found it difficult to remember why it had even begun to delve into them.

It focused, battling through the fog and turning its attention to the man traveling with them. He was unusual as well. She had met many like him. She even traveled with one for a time, but the difference between the two was night and day. Where her companion had barely delved into the light, this human practically reeked of divine magic.

It dared not imagine how the snake would fit these travelers into its plan, but it didn't need to.

It knew exactly what the snake would do, and these travelers would either break the plan or be turned as the rest of the town had and strengthened it. Either result might bring dreadful consequences for itself. Still, only one made it shake with a fury it didn't entirely understand.

Had they not disturbed its sanctuary, the building of wood dust and tools that made it feel like her.

It would not have noticed them if they had not knocked on the door, disturbing its sanctuary, the building of wood dust, and tools that reminded it of her. A knock that had, for a moment, made her feel the urge to greet the guests to her new home.

It clawed at its head, trying to tear the memories away. They caused pain, such terrible, terrible pain.

But despite the pain, it could not help but follow them. And look for an opportunity. An opportunity for what? That it wasn't sure of, but it followed and watched.

It had long learned to be silent as the night, and neither the Drakon twins nor the man walking with them seemed to notice the slight distortions of its gift. Which it used to hide itself from wandering eyes.

And while it was full of fear of these strangers, for their presence had brought one of them. She feared for them and dared to hope.

—-

The absence of people did feel 'odd' now that the two Drakon thought of it. At first not so much to warrant concern. At least it hadn't been until one began to mentally delve into why such a large town was so empty.

Now their Oaths thrummed, an urge to protect surging through them. But they were not yet sure of exactly who they were supposed to be protecting.

The Dale felt like a ghost town, and while it wasn't entirely empty, if one compared it to Riverstead, which felt ten times over the size of their tribe in land and population; then Dale felt as if it was but half as many people as their home, with enough buildings inside its walls so that every person within could have two homes.

It troubled them greatly. Undoubtedly, a town of this size should see at least four times as many people.

And yet as they counted the odd passerby, they barely made it into two digits.

The stables, which in their investigation of the town they had circled back around to, changed that to some degree. It was the most populated portion of the town-turned-village the trio had seen thus far.

It was a bustle of activity, a polar opposite of the rest of the town. A dozen workers milling about and performing the care and feeding of the horses, mules, and donkeys.

While Dale was half the size of its sister town, it was still a stopping point for travelers, at least of the land traveling variety. And as a result, it had a considerable stable for the purposes of putting up horses and other pack animals.

And yet, the stable was still grossly overfilled. With several horses outside and tied up to wooden posts recently hammered into the ground to prevent them from wandering off. The building itself was visibly beyond its capacity for the mounts and beasts of burden.

The brothers saw this and made a mental note that this was likely an oddity.

While granted, so far as they could tell, all humans seemed to share a strange love of animals.

But even Riverstead didn't have nearly as many like this. Or at the very least, not all in one place.

A final mental note the brothers made were the workers themselves. A town tended to share a single branch of the Tree of Humanity, which is to say that they would, generally speaking, share ancestry to whichever group had founded the town.

Like Riverstead, whose ancestry could be traced back to pure humans, orcs and the odd satyr. Which has been the primary residents of this land some hundreds of years ago, with satyrs having now vanished from the area into the greater whole of Humanity.

And the only actual orcish groups still around having become highly isolationist.

The result was that this branch of Humanity that inhabited the region was recognized to be mostly green-skinned, somewhat bulky, and occasionally horned.

The workers around the stables were not this ethnic group, or at least, not entirely.

Nor were they any single branch of Humanity. While the native breed of humans local to the region were present, so were a handful of the lanky bark-covered humans and the short red-skinned ones with their strange prehensile tales who lived nearby. Racial kin of the caravan they had been long in following, though they recognized none among their number.

And working beside them, stood Orcs.

Not mingled blood, but actual Orcs.

From a distance, one might mistake one of Riverstead's or Dale's folk for an Orc. Supposing one had Never seen an Orc and had heard very little about them. Of course.

Where Sol's people often had green skin tones, Orcs were always a dark jade, with jutting jaws and tusks. Stout and bulky, and the eyes.

But all those were only slight differences when compared to the differences in their eyes. For even a fool could tell them apart from the eyes.

Sol's kind had orbs of white with colored irises and a black pupil in its center, like most branches of Humanity.

But Orcs, they had eyes of crimson red, which is not to say their irises. No, the entirety of their eyes were glowing spheres of red.

In this, the brothers recognized something 'odd, as Sol had mentioned.

Orcs, in general, and even more so the ones which are native to the region. Do not get along with humans, and they certainly didn't work for them nor care for their horses.

And yet here they were, working as manual laborers, loading large bales of horse hay and bags of apples and offering them to the beasts. Brushing them and fetching them water.

Sol watched the work, then narrowed his focus upon a red-skinned man who seemed to be in charge. Another oddity, as few orcs would work for anyone who hadn't bested them in battle. And Sol found it unlikely that the short, overweight, red-skinned, and gray-haired man had managed to beat the four or so orcs that now worked the stable.

He did not entirely write off the idea either, however. And so approached carefully, making sure he was flanked by the naturally armed and armored Drakon.

The stablemaster turned and appraised them before greeting them with a smile.

"Why hello there! Travelers, ay? The second group we've had in as many days! Did Bert give ya any trouble?"

Sol aired on the side of caution and returned the smile. "Oh, who was ahead of us? and if you mean the guard, he was perfectly amicable."

"HA, that'll be the day. But yessir, a group of my kin from Goldhome! Plus, a few of those wandering lanky folk like Leo and Charles here." He gestured in the vague direction of the two part-elvish workers behind him.

"Are they still around?"

"Nope, you just missed them. They left... oh sometime in the night, I think?"

Sol cocked his head. "Any reason for their speedy departure?"

The man shrugged. "None that I can say, it just seems to be that way around here. Either folks pass on through quickly, or decide to move in."

"Move in?" Sol asked.

"Aye, I'm one such person. I came through with my caravan and decided to stay! The town was practically empty then, ya see, and they were giving the land inside away! Or near enough to it."

The Trio looked around at the clearly abandoned buildings, seemingly reminding themselves that yes, the town still was practically emptied, despite all these travelers 'moving in'. Sol echoed as much. "Seems little has changed."

"Aye!" The stablemaster replied. "Caravan folk decide to move in from time to time, but most end up moving on again. It's a nuisance, really. You get to know somebody and they just up and leave in the middle of the night. But I suppose that's the wanderer's spirit for ya, hard to kill." He seemed oddly proud, despite apparently having managed to 'kill' his own wandering spirit.

"People just leave in the middle of the night?" Sol asked with a voice so thick with skepticism and disbelief that one could cut it with a knife.

"Yup." the man replied, either oblivious or did not care for the doubt in Sol's words.

"You don't find that strange at all?" The Cleric hedged.

At this, the man's brow furrowed with thought. "I suppose it is a tad strange how much they leave behind..."

His voice seemed to vary with uncertainty. In a flash his expression cleared, and he smiled.

"I suppose they're just taking their sermons to heart."

"Sermons?"

"Aye, Father Elliot. He gives sermons in the town square nightly. I hope ya stay for it, they're always very enlightening!"

"What are these sermons about?" the Cleric asked, his interest a razor point. He had never heard the term 'father' before when speaking of a holy man as the word sermon seemed to insinuate.

"Taking care of your neighbor, the town, and serving the Platinum son, of course."

This name made the brothers start, they knew of only one platinum god and Argus spoke with a tone of demand in his voice, "Who is this platinum son?"

"The son of Tavig. Virion is the half-dragon God of strength eternal."

The brothers shared a glance, and Argus continued, "Tavig has no children but the Dragons."

The stablemaster scowled, suddenly hostile. "You sound like a doubter." Then his expression cleared. "If you don't, believe me, that's fine. Listen to Father Elliot. I’m sure he can convince you. now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

The man excused himself, the sudden hostility vanishing in another full smile. Before making good on his word and beginning to declare orders to the workers around him and join them.

Sol turned to the brothers. "We must speak."

They grumbled but followed him out of earshot from the workers.

Sol turned to them and spoke sternly. "I know an insult is given, but be careful you don't anger them. We don't know what's happening here, and despite how empty the town is, there are more of them than us."

Argus spoke just as sternly in reply. "I suspect you would not be so neutral if they were claiming it was Soltris's child they served."

Sol swallowed a biting retort, before continuing simply with "Perhaps, but that does not mean I am wrong."

That silenced the brothers for a moment, but they could not help but grumble internally.

"You suspect they are unified in the belief of this false God?"

Sol nodded. "If he's giving sermons in the town square, I can only imagine most have heard his claims, and with all the anomalous activity going on, a cult growing here makes sense to me."

After a moment of practicing hiding their distaste at the concept of a cult who claimed to worship a god sharing the title of 'platinum,' Asgar spoke. "The horses, I recognized some of them."

Sol's brows raised. "From the caravans?"

The Drakon nodded, "The white one with black spots and the brown one with the mane of white. They look like the horses for the cart we helped load."

"Are you sure?" Sol asked.

"No, perhaps they are just similar horses. But it would be some coincidence."

Sol grimaced. "If those horses are theirs, they may very likely be all dead and we may be in terrible danger."

An expression of dread filled the brothers' faces, and Argus spoke rapidly. "Is it not possible they believed they were in danger? And escaped into the night? The man said they had left after all."

Sol shook his head. "I doubt it. Horses are the livelihood of a caravan. I doubt they would have left them without a fight. What's more, all the people here are acting very oddly. Why would so many choose to stay only to suddenly leave? And Orcs? Are they being killed? What can anyone gain from this? It doesn't make sense." Sol's brow seemed to be growing ever furrowed, worry and stress writing itself into his face with abandon.

"What do we do?" Argus asked though none answered him readily.

"We could listen to the sermon? Perhaps attempt to capture this 'Calum' imposter and get answers from him? He did suggest meeting us at the Inn." Asgar suggested tentatively.

And in that moment, they had a target. Sol scowled as he realized the leading plan of action was to kidnap someone who very likely wasn't his cousin, but could still possibly be.

And so he spoke with much disdain. "How do we do it?"

None of them were stealthy, nor had any experience in such clandestine affairs like a kidnapping.

Argus shook his head. "We will make little progress planning in a void, we should go to the Inn. See what we are working with, yes?"

That got a pair of thoughtful nods, and the group turned into the town itself. Delving deeper into it and heading for the Inn, which Sol was vaguely familiar with from previous trips.

—-

A Ten-minute walk later, and they stood before 'The Balanced Baroness.' A building which stood out amongst its surroundings, as it towered two stories above the rest. The first of such height they had seen in the town, It had windows with actual glass instead of just shutters.

While Sol knew the way to the town's Inn, he had remembered it as the ‘Bronze Bastion’.

A building that had been two stories shorter. And far less splendorous.

Entering the establishment itself showed that the luxurious exterior had a matching interior. Beautiful carpets and meticulously well-crafted furniture, some of which Sol recognized as the handiwork of his cousin.

Though to his concern, none seemed to have been made recently. But instead, the furniture that had decorated the Bronze Bastion before it had become this new establishment.

The room was warm, perfectly so. A comforting sensation that would put most anyone at ease.

In the corner sat a suit of Plate armor, beautifully made, with engravings and runes. It was clearly made for a man of shorter stature than the brothers or even Sol. And it was topped with a great helm.

Besides, the armor sat a similarly beautiful chest, its dowels and drawbolts seemed to be made of gold, and its lock appeared to be of silver.

On the walls, the heads of various great beasts were mounted; elks, pallid bears, jack wolves, and other creatures that neither the drakon nor Cleric recognized.

A strikingly attractive man stood behind the bar. The red tint of his skin adhered to the chiseled features of his face, and a prehensile tail slowly creeped in and out of their view from behind him. As if swaying to a song only its owner could hear. His eyes were like a twin set of jeweled amber. And his ears were long like that of an elf.

He wore a jacket of exceptional quality, which was matched by the rest of his clothing. And if one looked closely, they could see the shine of metallic scales just beneath the cuffs of his jacket.

He was already looking at the door when they entered and gave the Trio the uneasy feeling that they had been expected. He grinned at them, revealing his canines to be pronounced and sharp.

He gave them an exceedingly pleasant acknowledgement. The line still sounded as though it must have been rehearsed with many a patron. "Hello, travelers. Come, rest your weary bones and perhaps tell Aloro your tales?"

The Trio blinked. They found his words did put them at ease, and they approached the bar as he gestured them forward.

The air was filled with the scent of apples, and while merely pleasing to Sol, it was an entirely new scent to the brothers that had them sniffing at the air in an attempt to try to understand the smell.

"What can I do for the weary... hmm." He seemed to eye the Trio, before smirking. "Pilgrims? Am I right?"

Sol nodded, acquiring a copy of the man's surprisingly infectious grin. "Yes sir, I've only recently begun mine, you see."

"Then I am happy to be one of your first stops! Come and sit. I am nothing if not a satisfactory host, what may I-" he cut himself off, chuckled, then spoke once more.

"Ah, a host I may be and yet I forget the most basic of courtesies. I am Aloro, Son of One."

He reached out, offering a hand to Sol. "Your name? If I could presume to ask for it?"

"Oh, my apologies." Sol was put off balance by the courtesies, and this answered quickly. "I'm Sol Kegan. Cleric of Soltris"

"Well, Sol Kegan, Cleric of Soltris. What can I get for you? I have many spirits, and some non-alcoholic drinks as well. Perhaps something for your friends?"

Asgar Began "As-" But was quickly interrupted by Argus "Bior and Mord."

The man blinked and spoke with a voice of mirth. "Quite. and which is which?"

Argus blinked, glancing at Sol before speaking, "I'm Bior."

"I see, then you’re Mord?" The tavern owner turned to look at Asgar as he spoke.

Asgar, who had sworn an oath never to lie, felt a terrible twisting urge of illogical disgust. Before finally squeezing it. "I've been called them at least once."

Aloro laughed again, a deep and full gesture. "My apologies for doubting you then!" he stilled his face and said. "Good tea for the three of you, I think, too early for your type to be in your cups I think. And I doubt these two are ready to try sugar. Are you?"

The drakon squinted, and Argus asked: "What is sugar?"

"Yes, too much for a first drink. Maybe later tonight when you three are not so worried about Sol's cousin?"

That pushed the strange comfort from the mind of the three, and Sol spoke, hesitantly reaching for the favor of his goddess. "What do you know about Calum?"

Aloro shrugged. If he noticed the tension from his guests he elected not to mention it. "Just that he has been acting strange as of late. I commissioned furniture from him for the tavern when I moved in." He shrugged. "I, for one, suspect a woman is involved. Though with how small the town is lately, I dare not begin to guess at who."

This time, despite the warmth and mirth in his voice, they did not drop their guard so quickly. But he didn't stop talking.

"It's that fool, Father Elliot, you see. He lures traders in with offers of cheap land. Then surprises them with his required sermons."

The group blinked, surprised by the font of information being delivered to them.

"The sermons are... required?" Asgar tentatively asked.

"Oh yes, all about that nonsensical God of his. I'm quite certain he's actually a servant Jerchio!" He spoke those words with a little gasp and grinned. As if spilling a terrible secret.

"I imagine learned men such as yourselves have heard of the trickster God?"

The brothers had not, their tribe cared little for any gods beyond Tavig to worship, and Junda to hate.

But Sol was a learned man, and it made sense, if only due to how little sense Jerchio made.

The God of trickery, mischief and stories. And with that thought, an idea formed in his mind. If Calum had begun to worship a god like that, brainwashed by a wandering Cleric who held themselves as high priest of a small town. How would that Calum respond to what some might see as Sol playing a strange prank on him? Would he... play along with it?

Sol shook his head, that was ridiculous.

Asgar interrupted. "And the people leave their new lands and horses behind because of a sermon?"

The Barman shrugged as if it were obvious. "Most folks don't want their religious leader to be a heretic, and they only abandon the land. Elliot owns the horses. What do you think he sells them the land in exchange for- hang on. I have one of his contracts somewhere."

The Barman looked beneath the bar, rummaging around for some time before rising back up above the bar. and slapping a piece of papyrus down on it.

"Here we are, clear as trader’s talk. 'In exchange for the ownership rights of any and all beasts of burden, mounts, or animal companions of any kind. Father Elliot, Priest and Mayor of Dale, does thus surrender the ownership of an abandoned building to function as a home or business to the recipient.

Furthermore, so long as one is a resident of the town of Dale, they shall have full rights to use their mounts owned by Father Elliot, Priest and Mayor of Dale.

In exchange for this generous exchange, the recipient is expected to report to all town meetings called by Father Elliot, Priest and Mayor of Dale, so that the physical, emotional, and spiritual safety of the town may be preserved.'"

He cleared his throat.

“A mouthful, but as you can see. It looks like a deal that benefits the signer more than the father, but he drives them off with his ridiculous sermons. And since they don't own their horses, they can't even take most of their professions anymore."

Asgar ground his teeth "How does he get away with this? Surely someones warning people?"

Aloro laughed again. "You bet they are, haven't you noticed the lack of caravans coming from this direction? Folks keep talking about some terrible cult forming here, and so the traders steer clear. What I'd give to have someone run that Elliot out of town."

"Wait," Asgar spoke, something wasn't adding up. "Why are their horses from the caravan that came just ahead of us?" His eyes narrowed with suspicion at the barkeep.

"I haven’t a clue," he replied frankly. "maybe he conned a few of them into moving in. Maybe he traded different beasts for them? A slow-moving caravan would do better with an Ox than a horse more often than not."

"They traveled quite quickly."

The man shrugged. "Maybe they sold their wares and could afford to purchase quicker horses. So they could get home more quickly?" He scratched at his head. "It is odd, though. I wouldn't recommend talking to him about it. He's so charming you're liable to end up paying for the right just to know the information."

The trio chewed this over.

"But this doesn't explain why Sol's cousin was acting so strangely."

"I suspect Sol was right. He must have fallen to Jerchio's wily ways."

Sol nodded, then started. Turning a questioning brow toward the Barman. "I didn't say that aloud."

He laughed in reply. "You were thinking it so loudly I could have heard it in my dreams, I'm an innkeeper, sir. Being able to read people is a prerequisite."

Sol muttered. "Beatrice can't do that."

"Then she's not as good an innkeeper as me," he spoke, without a shred of humility.

Now Argus spoke. "So, now what?"

Sol thought, before shrugging. "The same goal as before, when Calum comes, we're to talk with him and get to the bottom of this."

Aloro laughed, slapping Sol on the back. "That's a good lad."

And so the three waited to have an intervention for Sol's cousin if he was indeed such a person.

And in the corner, It watched.