They started their day late, the brothers rising well after the sun. They had stayed up well into the night, despite gorging themselves on boar meat—the nervous energy of the day to come managing to keep them up when stuffed stomachs would have otherwise brought them sleep.

Even Argus- who felt confident he had everything prepared, was anxious. It was simply too important of a day not to be. But neither of them allowed the fear to hold them back, they were Drakon, and they were soldiers now, members of the Frozen Scroll battalion.

And soon, they would be even more.

Thousands of years ago, the Drakon had been created to serve in battalions, assembled by two dragon gods to fight over the plane(s) of man.

Tavig, The Two-headed Dragon, whose domains were mercy, protection, and healing, had created the first Drakon to serve as the vanguard against Junda's forces attempting to claim this world.

And Junda, the great prismatic dragon, Tavig's counterpart. Whose domains were that of the conquest, war, and minds. He bent the will of those that refused to bend the knee to him and remolded them into servants. He had created the first Wyverns, Drakes, and then Kobolds to ride and guide them. And then his own breed of Drakon to counter Tavig's.

Both these names held incredible weight to the brothers, nay, their whole tribe. For it was to Tavig, that they'd sworn allegiance. As had the whole of the Frozen Scroll Battalion- their tribe, and many more besides. They were to hold shields and stop the advance of the enemy at all costs.

But that was hundreds of years ago. The war had long since ended with Junda defeated by a coalition of gods and mortal armies, not just Tavig's forces.

Asgar and Argus had been inducted into the Frozen Scroll battalion, the long descendants of the first, who had held this valley where hundreds of thousands had fought and died.

Even now, the dead's weapons and armor could be unearthed from the great battlefield their very town stood on.

Yet the war that had ended for the world some hundreds of years ago had only ended for this battalion twenty years ago. Another force had shared this valley and skirmished for all these centuries- The White Shroud battalion, servants of Junda.

Or they had been long ago, but then Junda was defeated and deserted his soldiers. Many then turned to Tavig, having nowhere else to flee, and yet the fighting had persisted.

But that was the past. The present was different. Peace had been made by the Two Zezdas, leaders of their battalions- now mere tribes.

Today was the first oath-taking with both tribes, side by side. The Drakon competed to win the right to make the Oaths. For, in those Oaths, honor, and power were to be had, little else held more value to Drakon than these virtues.

The brothers had both won the right to make Oaths, through an act of martial skill and valor. Though neither felt that it had been a strong showing of either. The brothers, as well as the party of other Drakon, had been on a hunt. While on it, they had run across a Wight.

—-

Four Drakon had marched through the night, carrying their prey. Two white and two silver, two sets of siblings hunting together.

The group's hunt had been successful- albeit too long as night had begun to fall around them. The brothers carried a hogtied boar on a spit pole between them. The night was as quiet as the dead. Devoid of the hoots of owls or the squeaks mice, that was to be expected of a winter hunt- the boar had been an unexpected windfall when one took the season into account.

"Quiet." Edrik, a white Drakon hunter coated in heavy furs with a bow on his back and a spear in hand, held up his other hand and stared intently at the brush.

Asgar and Argus obeyed readily, holding their breaths and freezing in place, straining their ears and gazing into the treeline to see if they could spot what Edrik had seen.

They scanned the forest as silence reigned through the tundra before them.

But suddenly, the silence was shattered by the squeal of a boar- their boar. It began to wriggle and writhe, squirming against the pole and its binds. Startled, the brothers drop it- and nearly jumped again as they turned their attention to a much more alarming sound. A thunk and squeal of rent scales, followed by the sound of a gargle. Or.. no, a full choke in a desperate, wide-eyed gasp for air. The other white scaled Drakon, Edrik's sister, Dara, now frantically clawed at her throat as blood seeped, contrasting against her scales on the blood froze on them, an arrow buried to the fletching in her throat.

"Bear!" Edrik, who had yet to see his sister's wound, pointed as a great white bear charged them from behind and ran to meet it, taking an arrow in the leg and falling as he did.

At this moment, Argus saw them- a pair of flashing blue lights from which the arrows had been sent flying, and in the next moment, he tore his shield from his back and caught an arrow sent for him. The projectile piercing through the shield a dozen centimeters.

Argus's eyes widened at the arrow-head before crying out to his brother. "Shield! longbow or heavier!"

Asgar bolted into motion as years of training since childhood clicked into place. His goal to defend Edrik as he rose, attempting to recover from his new wound.

Edrik shook himself and shoved Asgar away as he rose, speaking. "Get the archer before they pick us off, we'll hold the bear!".

He resurged, ducking under Asgar's shield now in a hobbling rush forward and brought his spear to bear while Dara, a hiss come from the hole in her throat from what Asgar suspected should have been a scream, lept atop the bear's back.

She was berzerking, and Asgar froze for a moment, lamenting that she was already dead.

"Asgar!" Argus snapped, Asgar turned, sharing a nod and charged through the brush to the blue lights, arrows thudding into their shields as they ran.

Then the arrows ceased, and blue lights started blurring towards them, and through the overgrowth came a corpse, with a rusted longsword. Formerly human, but now clearly undead. A Wight, a creature who made thralls of the dead and used them for hunting even more living.

Its skin pulled tight over a skeletal grin as it leaped forward with an overhead strike into Argus's shield. The rusted blade biting into the wooden shield and finding itself stuck.

Asgar lashed out with his handaxe and split the rusted blade with an overhead strike of his own. The Wight grabbed Asgar's arm as it swung by, switching its now half-sword into a reverse grip and stabbing it into Asgar's shoulder, buckling his scales and eliciting a pained shout from him.

Argus stabbed forward into the Wight's chest with a hunting knife once, then twice, and went for a third strike. As the Wight released its hold on the half-sword lodged in his brother's shoulder, it wrapped its hands around Argus's arm and twisted, forcing him to release his grip on the hunting knife.

The corpse plucked the knife from its own chest as easily as one would a flower from the ground and slashed and its owner. Cutting animal hide and sparking across scales but doing little else.

This gave Asgar an opening, as he slammed his shield into the Wight's side, throwing it off balance as Argus bashed at its head with his own shield, knocking it down in its moment of imbalance.

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"Brother," Asgar called, limply tossing his handaxe to Argus, his shoulder in no shape to properly use it now.

Asgar then stepped forward, bringing his shield down onto the prone Wight. Or trying to as the Wight blocked with its arms, catching it.

Its limbs issued out a soft crack as it caught the falling shield empowered by the weight of an adult Drakon, not broken, but damaged in the least. Not that the dead could feel it.

It lashed out with its feet, pushing Asgar away as Argus struck down upon it with the handaxe.

As the handaxe lodged into the Wights torso, the undead again grappled Argus's arm.

Asgar, seeing the opportunity provided, slammed his shield into the Wight's arms again, breaking the damaged limbs with a sickening crack.

This action finally issued a cry from the creature, not one of pain, but of frustration.

It kicked Argus in the knee, toppling him. Then kicking itself up and headbutting Asgar in the jaw, dazing him as it stumbled up and away. Giving another frustrated cry, it yowled like a great cat to the sky and began to flee into the night.

Argus flung the handaxe, twisting head over end, and struck the creature's thigh, with the axes hilt. The undead stumbled then tripped upon a longbow, it's own longbow it had dropped to engage the brothers when they'd gotten close.

It tried to scramble up, but they were upon it. Asgar brought the undead down with a slam of his shield upon the Wight's battered form, and before it could recover, Argus straddled its back, bashing his shield down into its skull again and again.

Its limp arms were unable to push up as Asgar joined his brother, the creature kicking lamely and digging grooves into the ground with its feet but unable to free itself or harm the brothers with them this time. The Drakon struck again and again till finally, the Wight went still.

The brothers finally managed to catch a full breath. Clouds forming from the exertion that had made even their usually cold bodies warm. Asgar helped Argus to stand, and, with half a thought to drag the corpse of the Wight behind them, they began the walk back.

There they found Edrik, holding the body of his sister. Both had been mauled, scales cracked or shattered.

The bear laid nearby, its body paralyzed from a strike to its spine, yet still, it growled and bit at the earth, as if trying to edge itself closer with just its jaw so that it could attack the Drakon once more.

The boar from their lucky hunt was speared into the ground. It must have gotten loose from its bindings. And based on the second wound on his leg, it had managed to gore Edrik.

After a shaky breath, Argus approached the bear and began to strike its head with his brother's handaxe. doing so till it stilled in entirety.

"Did you get them- the archer?" Edrik asked as he cradled his sister's body.

"Yes, it was a Wight," Asgar answered. Feeling a combined wariness and shame as he eyed Dara's remains, to be sure there was no movement.

Edrik nodded, then eyed and the corpse of the boar. "A wasted hunt, the boar is ruined by necromancy, as is the bear. Come, we will need your help to return. The boar got my leg. And my sister lays unconscious still."

The brothers met each other's gazes, then nodded. Asgar helped Edrik stand and let him lean on his right shoulder, and Argus carried Dara's remains. As twilight turned to night, they returned home.

—-

For their efforts, they had earned enough recognition to solidify their positions as Oath-takers.

They were soldiers now, as all oath takers were required to be. They had become so yesterday and today. They would become more.

Dressed in their best finery- which is to say a pair of elk hide pants and cotton shirts. As to the tribe, The tribe who only knew hunting, gathering, and digging into the earth for ancient steel- cotton was a luxury only acquired from one of the tribe's traders, acquired while selling animal hides and old war artifacts to one of the nearest human towns. Argus even had a scarf, a green one, and he was quite proud of it.

Argus had wandered over to the nearby village when he was no longer a child but not yet a man. The town was almost a week travels away, and Argus may have neglected to tell anyone he was going, let alone where.

To say a scare was had over it was grossly understated, and compounded after Asgar had gone missing as well- who had gone to retrieve his brother and may have also forgotten to inform anyone of what he was doing.

They were both chastised heavily, but Argus had gotten a brown scarf his brother on his little adventure, and that had been enough for Asgar to forgive his brother for getting them in trouble.

They headed out, mother and father in tow—a mix of compliments and advice, and a few old reprimands coming to surface. "Take care of yourselves." being the most common sentiment.

There it was, the longhouse. The brothers had seen it a hundred times- they been lying on top of it just the night before, but it felt so much bigger now.

It wasn't a proper ceremonial building. It was used for all sorts of things, from tribe meetings to religious gatherings, even a couple feasts from wildly successful hunts. But today... Today it was a place for Oaths. And the longhouse felt more massive than a giant, and more intimidating than the Wight.

So, being Drakon. The brothers schooled their features and marched forward. Surveying a growing crowd coming to witness. Though none had entered the longhouse yet, only those who were to take the Oaths would be allowed until everyone had arrived.

Not a tradition born of the ceremony, but one of practicality, unless Oath-takers be forced to shove on-lookers out of the aisle.

They entered and pushed the old ash wood door that now seemed to tower over them as if judging their worthiness to enter.

They walked past the chairs arranged in a fashion not dissimilar to pews, with tables now relegated to sides of the interior.

To the front, or back of the longhouse were five other Drakon who would take their oaths this day, Edrik amongst their number.

This was the most number of Oath-takers any single ceremony hosted. But since the unity, the tribe had about doubled in size and those worthy of an Oath. Some were white, not silver like the brothers. Which was new, and made the whole event even more substantial.

The last two meant for the ceremony entered, now nine altogether. Five of which bore white, notably rounder scales, then their sharper silver scaled peers.

Finally, the Zezda Entered. Velrez, leader of the silver and white Drakon, and Priest of Tavig.

Behind him followed the tribes, filling the longhouse to bursting. Not everyone was here, but most were. Once everyone was settled, the Zezda addressed the crowd.

"My friends and family. We are here today to witness Oaths to be taken and held by our fellow soldiers beneath Tavig; he who guides us and allows us to be whole. Today they shall mark their Oaths in sacred parchment, and read them to us, so that we may know the sum of who they are and who they shall become."

He let his words set into the crowd before speaking once more.

"Thus, I call the Oath-takers to begin."

With these words, a pair of assistants began to hand out paper and quill to each of the now kneeling Drakon, who started to write, the crowd watching in silence.

It was not long till the first stood, Edrik, who had lost his sister to the same Wight who had allowed Asgar and Argus to earn their place here.

He raised to his full height, towering above most others in the room, and with a voice made of the smashing of gravel, issued out his Oath.

"I, Edrik, Servant of Tavig, swear this. To even the scales of my sister's life, I swear a life of vengeance. I will go out into the world and find the undead that crawls like rats in the shadows. So I swear, and so my Oath shall be. I shall take no wife, nor father any sire. I shall own no land, nor keep any hearth. I will offer no mercy or quarter to those who forsake death. I shall seek them till I die and may only rest when I do."

The silence following Edrik's proclamation was deafening as many watching were surprised, what a terrible Oath it was, a binding chain around his neck till his death.

He promptly handed his parchment to the Zezda, turned, And walked out. The crowd parted for him as he did. Another Drakon gave him a bag, which he slung over his shoulder, and followed him out. Likely never to be seen again, less he be forsworn.

The following oaths were more subdued than the gravity of the first, an Oath to stand and guard the tribe till death took them, another to serve Tavig in all things. And then, Argus.

He stood at attention, looked forward, and spoke clearly- "I, Argus, Servant of Tavig, swear this. I shall be a light to all I meet, beating back despair and igniting hope. Where there is good, beauty, love, and laughter in the world. There I shall stand so wickedness may not claim it. At all times, I will safeguard life. I forswear grief, and even in the worst, I swear I will remain a Light."

A warmth filled Argus's chest, and his back straightened, he felt...surer somehow.

Like with Edrik's silence followed, Argus's Oath had not carried Edrik's weight, or maybe it had. But it was different; this was not an Oath made in revenge or grief; it was one made because it fit the one who made it like a puzzle piece to make a whole.

Then came Asgar. He swallowed hard and then spoke.

"I Asgar, Servant of Tavig, swear this. I will speak no falsehoods, nor hide the truth. I will act with courage and aid others in their need. I will use peace first and violence only as a last resort. I will carry compassion and mercy in my heart. I swear to serve Tavig in this manner till death takes me, and even after."

For Asgar, his Oath was a weight. Not a burden, or not just one. The importance of a well-packed bag hanging off a traveler's shoulders, heavy perhaps. But a form of security as well.

Thus two brothers made their Oaths, Twins even. Alike in many ways, but not entirely. But both, Oathbound.