With his fists clenched around the handles of his travel cases, Benjamin stepped down the rickety timber steps from the makeshift platform as the train behind him blew its whistle and began to depart. His face still smarted from the blows he endured on the train and, judging by the throbbing pain in his arm, he knew that he would have bruises all over it tomorrow. Clenching his teeth, he pushed through the pain as he stepped down onto the ground. Before him lay the town of Windslow, a mixture of old, worn timber buildings and half-built structures, which looked as if the workers walked off-site years ago and never returned. Closest to the makeshift station was a finished funeral parlor and a half-built postal office, the latter's faded sign leaned against the bones of the building like a piece of flesh clinging onto a decaying carcass. Benjamin knew it wasn't uncommon in smaller towns for the marshal's office or other government structures to act as a post office for the community, but it was clear that this settlement had been on the cusp of growing into a full-fledged town when the mine dried up. Looking towards the north, he saw a line of telegraph poles running parallel with the train line, however, the cable simply ended as it came into the town and Benjamin assumed that it too had been abandoned when the construction of the post office stopped.

He was grateful for his hat as the afternoon sun beat down on him, but began to regret his choice of footwear when he noticed his polished leather boots quickly becoming covered in dirt. Passing the abandoned construction site, he turned onto the main street, and saw the town for all its former glory. Like many mining towns, the buildings had been quickly erected with little consideration spared for their features being made plumb or level. The results varied from building to building, but it was becoming apparent to Benjamin that many of the structures were in dire need of repairs and others would benefit more from being completely torn down. Many of the most decrepit buildings bore the faded paint of Lowood mining company and he could tell that they hadn't received any love since the mine had closed. At the far end of the main street stood the saloon, by far the largest building in the town, which, as Benjamin mused, made sense as it would have been a common haunt for all those who worked in the silver mine. A mixture of dragons and humans milled through the main street as they conducted their errands, and he overheard a conversation from a wagon repair shop that gave him pause.

“It's gotta be the nails, it's got a nasty hole," called a green dragon, who was leaning against a cart and lifting one side so a man could work underneath. The dragon's scales shimmered in the sunlight and contrasted with the thick leather harness he wore, each pouch bristling with tools. “That's why it's not holding, thicker gauge, proper heads, and it will be rolling nice," he added and used one paw to fish out a large mallet from his front pouch to pass it to the man under the cart.

“Liirith, for the last time, it ain't just the nails. This wood they get from the north is only a little better than chaff, just ask Maakina," the man replied before belting the axle with the wooden mallet. “I swear, if they could find a way to make boards out of sawdust and glue, they would," he added, before gently tossing the mallet aside and extracting himself from under the cart with a groan. Seasoned by many years of working in the sun, his skin was like old leather and his gray hair was littered with wood shavings. Thick glasses framed his face and seemed to enlarge his brown eyes to an almost comical size. “That should do it for now."

The green drake carefully lowered the cart to the ground and the trailer groaned under its own weight as it settled. The dragon stuck its head under the cart to inspect the work, before he placed a forepaw on the top and gently pushed it back and forth to test how it tracked. “It's still not perfect—"

“It's the best it's gonna be," retorted the man with a sigh, as he bent down to pick up his mallet and returned it to the dragon's harness. Spotting Benjamin standing with his cases in hand, the man gave a friendly wave. “Looking for a new cart there, partner?" he asked with a broad smile. “Ain't no better carts in town," he added and gestured to a collection of wagons and carts parked beside his workshop.

Benjamin looked up at the wrought iron sign that read "Dragon Wagon Repairs" and found himself smirking as he noticed that the first letter "O" had been removed. Either rusted away or stolen, the timber backing still showed the faint outline of where it once was. “Not today, thank you. But perhaps you could point me in the direction of the Marshal's office?"

The old man's eyes scanned over Benjamin's attire and he quickly wiped his hands on his overalls as he came over. “Aye, you want to be heading all the way over towards the saloon, then it's on your right," he explained and gestured further down the road before looking at the side of Benjamin's swollen face and split lip. Lowering his voice he added, “Did ya get yourself into some sort of trouble or something?"

With a shrug of his shoulders, Benjamin adjusted his grip on his heavy cases. “I'm meant to be here on Marshal business, but the train got hit by bandits," he explained, trying to gauge the man's expression.

“Silver Fangs?" the old man asked and, when Benjamin nodded, he continued, “Nasty mob, the lot of 'em. But Marshal work, eh? You the replacement for ol' Jeb? I'm Stephen. Stephen Lockstep." The cartwright extended a weathered hand to Benjamin.

“A pleasure, Mr. Lockstep. I'm not sure about replacing Jebediah," Benjamin said, placing a case down on the ground to shake the hand, “There are just some administrative issues I need to get to the bottom of."

“Ah, I see. That is to be expected. Folks out here aren't exactly known for their paperwork. Just don't be too hard on 'em, he is a bit unorthodox but loved around here." Stephen's grip was like an iron-clad vice, and with calloused fingers, he shook the Marshal's hand. “Holler if you need anything, anything at all. I'm a bit past my prime, but Liirith here is a good egg," he added, gesturing to the green dragon who was awkwardly lingering around the freshly serviced cart. “He is as fast as they come, just don't get him started about the war. He wasn't old enough on the last draft and he just won't shut up about how the war would have ended sooner if he was there."

Benjamin looked towards the green drake, who was clearly loitering to listen in and when they locked eyes, the dragon quickly began to relocate the repaired cart back towards the rest. While Liirith looked fully grown, he still had the lanky, long legs that were characteristic of a young adult still fitting into their wings. During the war, it had been common practice for the army to purchase dragons from the common folk, provided they were capable of fighting, could haul heavy loads, and were not essential for their town's functions. Benjamin watched as the green drake lifted a large stack of planks with his jaws and angled his neck so that he could rest them precariously on the shoulder of his wing. Seeing the drake carry the load with relative ease, he knew that if the war had continued, Liirith would likely have been purchased. “Thank you, Mr. Lockstep. I'm sure I will see you both around."

“Please, call me Stephen. Folk around here don't much care for formalities," the cartwright said with a wry smile. A loud crash caused the pair to flinch and turn, to see the dragon stumbling to one side. The stack of boards had slipped out of Liirith's grip and knocked into a collection of spare parts. A large wagon wheel began to roll off between the carts and leaning dangerously from side to side as it tried to make its escape. “Excuse me," sighed the old man and went to help.

With a nod of farewell, Benjamin picked up his cases and continued to walk down the main road. His fists clenched the handles tighter than necessary, as he mulled over the cartwright's words; he had hoped that the attack on the train had been a rarity but given that the man knew the gang by name he began to wonder if the marshal was taking bribes or was just incompetent. If either were true, he would likely need to relieve the man of his duty and pray that the letter of authority in his pocket would be enough to ensure a smooth transition.

As he passed a butchery, he noticed that, like many towns, Windslow's buildings were segregated between those built for humans and those built to accommodate dragons. On the northern side of the road stood a barber's, dressmaker and tailor, general store, and another unfinished store, which Benjamin assumed was going to be a gunsmith or bank, judging by the bars over what little windows it had. Meanwhile, the southern side included the cartwright, butchery, leather working shop, a large, barn-like structure that Benjamin assumed was an old auction house for trading dragons and a small sawmill.

Darting out onto the road, a small child no older than ten ran with a stick almost as large as himself. The boy ran with a joyous giggle, while a young dragon chased after him with an equally wide grin on its slender snout. Turning on his heel, the boy flourished his stick like a sword and pointed it towards the yellow dragon. “On your guard, ye foul beast," challenged the child, his words heavy with a lisp.

The pale-yellow dragonette reared its head at the boy with a pained look in its eyes. “Ay! I'm not foul!" retorted the dragon in a squeaking voice and raised its wings to appear bigger. Its shoulders were level with the boy's own, but thanks to its long, slender neck, the creature looked down its snout at him. “You take that back, or, I'm telling Dad."

The child lowered his “sword" slightly with a look of remorse. “But it's what they say in the books," he explained. “I don't really think you are foul, Kaarisa, you know that," he added remorsefully. 

Folding her wings back against her sides, the lemon-yellow dragoness puffed out her white chest and looked down at her friend. “I should hope not. Naughty boys go to jail," she said in a matter-of-fact tone before lowering her head down to his level and wiggling her whole body as she prepared to pounce. “Even silly knights!" she cried and leaped at the boy, who giggled and ran.

Benjamin chuckled and watched as the pair darted and weaved through the people and shops, their cackles of laughter echoing off the buildings as they played their game together. Even at her young age, the dragoness could easily outrun the boy if she had wanted to and, despite her claws lacking the length or strength of a fully grown dragon, she was more than capable of delivering painful blows if she so chose to. He wasn't sure what the rules were to their game, but watched as the child climbed on an upturned apple box and flourished his sword at his friend. The dragon called Kaarisa ducked and weaved his obvious swings, despite the whooshing noises the child added to emphasize the power he wielded. With a quick side step, she darted her head forward to sharply nudge him in the chest with her snout and then, with a playful attempt at a roar, took off between the buildings with the child now giving chase.

Continuing down the main street, he passed the general store. Through the small glass windows, he could make out two humans tending to their wares while a massive, Clydesdale-sized teal dragon waited patiently outside. Due to the size differences between the humans and dragons, and the costs of building structures that could accommodate both, it wasn't uncommon for a dragon to have to wait outside a store, while the staff boxed up an order for its master. He paused for a moment as something above the shops windows caught his eye. Looking upwards towards the store's peaked roof, he spotted a small cart-like wagon. Perched at an unsettling angle on the singled roof, the two wheeled wagon looked as if it had been there for some time, with some of its siding missing and its timber looked worn from being parked in the sun. Frowning, Benjamin was sure that a dragon must have helped put it up there, but was completely perplexed as to why. 

Feeling the strain in his sore arms, Benjamin tightened his grip on his cases and spotted the marshal's office ahead. Erected on the corner of the main road, and another road that ran north to south, the building was across the street from both the saloon and the town square. The structure itself was asymmetrical, with half of it constructed out of pine and the other out of a warm, red brick. At first, he was confused by the contrast of materials, but quickly realized that unlike in the city where jails to contain dragons were built separately, whoever had designed this building had connected the fireproof structure to the main office. As he approached the office, a knot of anxiety built in Benjamin's stomach. If Jebediah was on the Silver Fangs' payroll or was compromised in another way, he knew he would have to be careful to ensure that things didn't escalate.

Stepping up onto the timber deck that surrounded the front of the building, he used his hip to push one-half of the large double doors open. A loud groan from the neglected hinges echoed into the otherwise silent office and announced his arrival. Inside, he was greeted by a surprisingly spacious interior, with most of the furniture pushed back into the corners to allow for more walking space. While the structure appeared only slightly taller than most other buildings, it was clear that whoever had designed the supporting beams inside had arranged them in such a way as to allow for as much headroom as possible. To Benjamin's left as he entered was an iron-barred jail, large enough to hold a dozen men if they huddled together and, behind that, he could see the heavy brick wall that made up the side of a dragon's cell. To his right was a pair of heavy oak tables, one of which had a chair and the other a padded cushion, which was occupied. Asleep, with his head on the table, lay a fully grown, white dragon wearing a dark leather harness.

The scales of the marshal's dragon were the color of freshly washed wool, with an ivory frill that matched its wings running from between its curved horns and continuing down the length of its neck. The creature's large, membranous wings were lazily strewn across the cushion and floor. Their tips twitching and jolting slightly as the dragon dreamt, its sides slowly rising and falling in time with its large bellows-like breaths. Benjamin watched as its closed eyelids moved with the rapid twitching of its eyes, while its brown paws clenched occasionally at the cushion, each one tipped with sharp talons that could easily rend flesh if needed.

He held the door open while he scanned the room for any signs of Jebediah and took stock of the room. Posters adorned the timber walls with sketches of various criminals and rewards to be issued by the marshal on their capture. In the far corner of the room stood a gun rack with a collection of lever-action rifles, a pair of pistols, and an old single-shot rifle he didn't recognize. Upon spotting a saddle perched on the rack next to the window, and the layer of dust that now coated it, Benjamin began to wonder if the marshal had abandoned his post and left his mount behind. While the desk that the sleeping dragon rested its head on was littered with paper, sticks of charcoal, and a candle that had long since burnt to a stub, the second desk was completely bare, apart from a heavy ledger, ink pot, and quill. Seeing that he was alone with Jebediah's dragon, he let the door close behind him with a heavier-than-necessary thud.

A snort came from the creature as it jolted awake and blinked its amber eyes to try and focus. Seeing that it was not alone, the dragon quickly rolled onto its front and pulled its head up off the desk to address the man, “Oh, hello. I was just, ah… testing the desk." Its voice was deep and clearly masculine; however, it contained a hint of sheepishness, indicating that the dragon realized how bad his hastily constructed lie was.

Benjamin stared at the drake as the creature stifled a yawn and placed his cases down on the waxed timber floor while he waited. Spotting a hat rack on the inside of the door, he removed his hat and placed it on the topmost peg. “I was looking for the marshal…" his words drifted off as he saw a small bronze badge attached to the drake's harness. Other than being worn and dented, it was identical to the badge that Benjamin had lost and even had the word "marshal" stamped in the center.

“Well, that would be me," said the dragon proudly with a warm and almost smug smile. “Marshal Kaaneth, what can I do for you?" he added while curling his long, alabaster tail around himself in an apparent attempt to appear smaller. Even while lying down on his front, with his neck curled in an 'S' shape, his head was just above Benjamin's. When both of his large amber eyes locked with his own, he found he couldn't help but hesitate.

Benjamin frowned slightly. He hadn't been told that Jebediah had been replaced and the idea of a dragon being in charge of law enforcement was completely unheard of. “I was told that Marshal Jebediah is in charge here," he clarified firmly and reached into his back pocket for a folded envelope of official instructions. He had read and memorized them before he had left the city, but now he began to doubt himself. “I need to talk to him, can you tell me where I might find him, dragon?"

The dragon's smile flickered briefly as the creature tried to remain visibly calm, it was clear that he disapproved of being simply being called dragon. “I would like to talk to him too. But that is a bit difficult now," he said flatly while maintaining a polite smile. “I can show you where he is buried, but I'm going to go out on a limb and assume that information doesn't help you much."

“Wait, he's dead?" Benjamin asked and saw the drake dip his head slightly in a nod, “Since when?" He continued to unfold the letter with instructions he had been given by his superiors and looked down at the text for clues as to what to do now.

“Late winter, so about three… no, four months ago," Kaaneth explained and shuffled his large wings as he remembered the final days of his late friend. “So, that leaves me as marshal," he added and touched the badge on his harness with a forepaw. “Was there something I could help you with there…?" his words drifted off in the hope of the stranger introducing himself, but when the man didn't reciprocate, Kaaneth's frill slowly rose involuntarily, and he subconsciously shuffled his wings closer to his sides.

Reading through the instructions, Benjamin saw that his superiors had written that should Jebediah be unable or unwilling to fulfill his duties, then he was to take the place of the old man. “You were not appointed by officials, were you?" Benjamin asked and scanned the note once more for any information on the dragon becoming a marshal.

“Not exactly. Jeb made me his deputy, taught me all he knew, and now I'm the marshal," Kaaneth said but could tell that he wasn't impressed by the drake's status as he wore the same unimpressed look that some others in the town had given him.

“That's not how you become a marshal. Sure, a marshal can appoint his deputies, but they themselves are appointed by the state, their deputies don't inherit the position if they die," Ben explained and felt his heart beat faster, as he addressed the large dragon. He ran his hand over his waistcoat where his own badge had been and was subconsciously reminded that it had been taken from him along with his watch. “Besides, I was sent to replace him if he couldn't do his job, as outlined by this notice," he added and turned the document around, before realizing that the dragon likely couldn't read.

Kaaneth adjusted his posture, and his smile faded from his angular snout when he briefly saw the official stamps on the paper. “Oh, so you are a marshal too, are you?" he asked and looked the man up and down, “Where is your badge?"

Benjamin glared at the dragon, his cheeks becoming red with a mixture of embarrassment and anger. "It got taken from me," he snapped, harsher than he meant to.

The dragon could tell that he had struck a nerve with the man, but his patience with the newcomer's attitude was wearing thin. "Well, I guess I'm still the marshal then," Kaaneth replied with a smirk, but when the man recoiled as if stung, he knew he was pushing his luck. "After all, how do I know you were appointed by the state and you're not just trying to make yourself a marshal," he added with a grin, as the man became flustered.

Benjamin unfolded the paper again and looked down at the letter of authority. "No, it says here that I am to take on his duties as well as any stately assets that he had acquired. I assume that means you," he said firmly and looked up at the dragon, whose head seemed higher than before. "You belonged to Jebediah, no? Just like that badge? So in turn, both you and it belong to me now," he countered. The dragon chuckled and leaned to one side to dip a paw into the front pouch of his harness, and as he reached inside, Benjamin knew that the dragon was already a few steps ahead.

"If we are using notes to say how important we are, here is a letter of freedom from Jebediah. It states that I am free from his commands and the commands of anyone who may inherit his estate in the event of his death, nor can I be sold, traded, or bought," he explained while flourishing the worn letter. "So no, I don't belong to you, or the state. Jeb gave me this badge while he was unwell and you are going to need more than a piece of paper to take it from me," Kaaneth said firmly and watched the man deflate slightly. While he knew that he had made his point, an awkward silence began to hang in the air before he broke the silence with a snort of amusement. "I still have my old deputy badge though. You could have that if you promise not to lose it," he added, with a deep-throated chuckle. Seeing the man glaring at him, it was clear he didn't share his attempt at diffusing the tension, but he shrugged and grinned wide to reveal his sharp, ivory fangs in a draconic smile.

Benjamin was familiar with such letters. When the war had ended and the dragons remained the property of their masters, many lawmakers had been commissioned by sympathetic dragon owners to create documents that allowed the creatures as much freedom as possible and removed the risk of being traded. Often skirting close to the edges of the law, the language used made it so that the ownership of the dragon was still with their master, even in the event of their death. The letters almost always included some ambiguous private errand that the creatures were performing on behalf of their masters, often with no expected time of completion and clauses that specified that unless they acted against the law of the land, they were not to be interrupted. The texts would even go into detail, that in the event of their owner's demise, they were to remain focused on the fictitious task at hand and could not be traded, transferred, inherited, sold, or gifted to any other party. So, while legally they were owned by their old masters, they were free to move and travel as they wished and, as such, had been granted their own agency. Benjamin sighed and waved his hand when the drake offered for him to read the letter. "You're missing the point. Us marshals, we are arbiters of law and order. The badge is just a symbol that shows we are authorized to act on behalf of the state and uphold its laws."

"Good thing I've got one then and you don't," Kaaneth chuckled, transitioning to a deep-throated laugh as his smile broadened. With a small bob of his head, he tried to dismiss his remark as nothing more than banter but could tell that the man was still not amused.

"A crime has been committed. The train I was on got hit by some gang and you are just here... sleeping," Benjamin growled and pointed an accusatory finger at the dragon. "A marshal would be out there bringing them to justice!"

“Oh, really?" Kaaneth asked, swallowing loudly, “That's probably the Silver Fangs. They do that every so often-"

“What?!" Ben exclaimed loudly, in disbelief at how nonchalant the white drake was over the near-death experience he had, “This has happened before?!"

Using a forepaw to scratch his other, Kaaneth couldn't hold the man's gaze and looked across the room to the wall where a collection of wanted sketches hung, many of which had been created by the drake's own paw. “They don't really hurt people though. Unless someone tries to stop them," he explained and looked back at the angry man before him who opened and closed his mouth in a stunned rage. “I mean, Jeb tried to reason with them, but they told him to stay out of it. In the end, Jeb said it wasn't worth risking the townsfolk over it," he added and watched as Benjamin clenched his hand into a fist before relaxing it and began to pace to vent some frustration. Only now did the drake see the red knuckles on the man's hand and began to piece together what must have happened.

Benjamin took a deep breath and slowly exhaled with his eyes closed before he turned back to the dragon. “This is why you could never be a marshal! They have broken the law and must be brought to justice," he said louder than he expected and saw the large creature flinch back slightly. “Look, I've got the names of some of them. We need to be out there asking questions, finding where they sleep, and putting an end to this. Now!"

Kaaneth's lip twitched as he thought of something, and before he could stop himself he simply shrugged. “I don't know why you are yelling at me. Apparently, I'm not a marshal, remember?" he said with a smirk and a raised eye ridge. The dragon could tell by the man's beet-red face that he wasn't helping the situation, but the Marshal was testing his patience so continued. “Besides, you don't have a badge, so you aren't a marshal either. What was it? The symbol of an arbiter of order or something," he added with a coy smile, “So relax, it's neither of our problems."

Benjamin kicked one of his heavy cases with his dirty boot and glared at the dragon for twisting his own words against him. “This is ridiculous-"

“No, this is Windslow," Kaaneth countered in an attempt at lightening the man's mood. “Things are probably a bit different here than in the city; you smell like you are from the city."

“It doesn't matter where I am from, dragons can't be marshals. That's final," Ben said firmly, “Not here, not anywhere, a deputy maybe, if you are good at your job. But just as a marshal chooses his deputy, they can be dismissed at any time."

Kaaneth rolled further onto his side to relax and inspected a forepaw, each of his toes tipped by an ivory talon and, as he tensed a muscle, they extended so he could inspect them for chips or flaws. He didn't want to intimidate the man, but the circular conversation and repeated jabs at his status were grating on him. “Oh? You want to dismiss me, do you? Do you think you will win over the townsfolk by doing that? Do you think the dragon folk around here will love that idea?" he asked gently.

Benjamin hesitated as the dragon's amber eyes flicked from his talons to his face and held his gaze. Despite the difference in color, he couldn't help but feel like he was once again pinned by the icy blue stare of his father's mount. While the dragon's posture wasn't threatening, it was clear that the dragon didn't appreciate the veiled threat of being dismissed.

Kaaneth nodded in understanding when Benjamin shook his head in defeat and instead adopted a calm, sincere voice. “Look, Windslow isn't like the big smoke. I went to Prescott once with Jeb, got to see the running water, that new electricity magic, and all that. It was nice! But out here, everyone just wants to live. Jeb said that going up against them would have only gotten us hurt, or worse," he explained. When the man opened his mouth to retort, he held up a paw to elaborate. “I'm not saying that what the Silver Fangs did is right, or that I want to see them in Windslow. But they aren't just a pair of highwaymen doing a shakedown, they are a full-bore gang. I've heard that they are well armed and their leader isn't one to be messed with. I can guarantee that if you try to start something with them, the townsfolk will be the ones that suffer and, as Marshals, we need to protect the townsfolk. We can agree on that, can't we?" he asked and raised an eyeridge.

Benjamin clenched and unclenched his fists before slowly nodding. “Try and start something? They have already have! And they will keep going on hurting people if we don't stop them. It's a marshal's job to stop these robberies."

“Oh, I agree, they should be stopped. I'm just saying that we are not equipped to handle them and they don't really bother us too much. They mainly attack the train and the occasional caravan that is passing through," Kaaneth explained and watched the man return to pacing. “Other than your badge, what did they take?"

Benjamin paused and looked back at the dragon before shaking his head. “They rustled the whole train, mostly money and jewelry. But that's not the point. If they believe they can get away with this they will continue to do so, and it's our job to stop them," he explained and quickly held a finger up when the dragon's eyes widened and his jaws opened to retort. “I meant MY job, a marshal's job, with or without a badge," he added and saw the dragon's smile begin to return.

“No-no-no, you said our job," Kaaneth chuckled and adjusted the marshal's badge on his harness for good measure. “A marshal's job," he added while the man shook his head in disbelief.

Benjamin combed his fingers through his hair and sighed in frustration at the drake. “Look, I don't have the authority to make you a marshal, just like Jebediah didn't. Sorry to be the one to tell you," Benjamin said and noticed the drake's frill droop slightly. “But listen, I am going to need some help taking them down. Would you be interested in being my deputy in this?"

The drake gave a snort as if he had smelt something bad and shook his head. “Honestly? No," he said flatly, and the powerful muscles in his shoulders and hips tensed and bulged under his pale scales as he slowly rose to all fours. Bringing himself up to full height, he pulled his wings close to his body and looked down at the man with a stern expression. “You come in here unannounced, tell me I'm not a marshal, prance about, yelling your little lungs out, while flapping paper about. Heck, you didn't even tell me your name," he growled and saw the man shrink back slightly. “And if you are going to talk to the other townsfolk like that, you are not going to get any help from them, that's for sure," he added and raised an eyeridge at the man.

Benjamin's cheeks became red in embarrassment as he realized that the drake was correct. Growing up, his father had taught him how to act as a gentleman, and he knew that his behavior had been anything but. “My apologies, you are right," he conceded and found himself unable to hold the drake's gaze. “I have had a very bad day. I have been shot at, brawled on a train, and was attacked by a dragon, but that doesn't excuse my behavior," he held out a hand, only to hesitate at the gesture, “Marshal Benjamin Denton."

Kaaneth looked at the outstretched hand before reaching forward with his own brown paw. “Well, Marshal Benjamin Denton, it's been an... experience to meet you. I am Marshal Kaaneth, welcome to Windslow." He smirked as he wrapped the man's small hand in his own four-toed paw. Careful to keep his talons retracted, he could feel the man's soft city skin against his own rough paw pads and shook the hand as gently as he could.

“It's good to meet you, Kaaneth," Benjamin said and held up a finger when the drake tried to correct him. “You can keep the badge for now, but I'm not calling you Marshal," he compromised and, when the dragon's frill lifted and fell slowly, he could tell that the dragon was weighing whether it was worth continuing their argument.

“I can live with that," Kaaneth conceded with a growing smirk. “Benny boy," he added and withdrew his paw. “Or maybe Benji Butter Chops," he added while using a folded wing to gesture to his own face. “Because your cheeks are all puffy."

Benjamin stopped himself from touching his swollen cheeks and shook his head before slowly taking a deep breath. “Benjamin will do fine, or Ben if that is too hard to say," he corrected with a small sigh, knowing the dragon was only trying to rile him up.

“Well, Benny, the train doesn't come back until next week, so how about I show you around the town, get you settled and such? I can have the doctor look at that lip of yours if you need it," Kaaneth offered and, when the man nodded, he smiled again. “Can't have my deputy bleeding when he talks," the dragon added and, when Benjamin glared at him, the man couldn't stop the corner of his lips curling upwards.

Benjamin shook his head in mock disbelief, he knew that the drake was deliberately butchering his name and title in another attempt at getting a rise from him. Not wanting to give the drake the satisfaction, he didn't correct him and instead shifted his cases over towards the second oak table. Spotting an old gun belt, complete with holster and service pistol hanging from the side of the gun rack, he walked over and picked it up.

The leather was dark and worn but, after he looked closer, he took a moment to appreciate the patterns engraved into the strap. Created by someone who clearly knew their craft, the gun belt felt soft and pliant in his hands from years of use. Even though the brass studs that lined the bullet loops were dull, they showed no signs of coming loose, and the loops themselves held each round with the perfect amount of tension.

“Ah, that was Jeb's," stated Kaaneth with a hint of sadness in his voice. “But I don't think he would mind," he added after noticing that Benjamin's holster was empty.

"The silver fangs took mine," Benjamin explained as he wrapped the belt around his waist and slipped the strap through the brass buckle. When he pushed the buckle's prong through the tightest hole punched into the leather, he quickly realized that the broad leather belt was designed for a man much larger than himself. Undeterred, he let it hang low on his hips and secured the inner thigh strap that would keep the holster close to his side.

Kaaneth slowly shook his head and made a clicking noise in the back of his throat. "Tsk tsk tsk. No badge, no gun, some arbiter of order you are. You are actually a marshal, right?" he asked with a playful grin, stepping past Benjamin toward the door.

"Remember that part where I'm having a bad day?" Benjamin retorted, patting the timber grip of the service revolver. "Well, now I'm armed," he added, returning the drake's playful grin with a smirk of his own.

The white dragon's frill perked up as he chuckled, before opening the door to the main street. "It's okay, I remember my first day, dropping things all the time, forgetting where I put my badge," he said, stepping outside with Benjamin following, "But I was about four at the time, so what can you say?"

Benjamin frowned and walked faster to match the drake's long strides. "Four? You've been a deputy since you were four?" he asked, judging by the size of the dragon and the thickness of his horns, he would have guessed the dragon was in his twenties or thirties.

Kaaneth tilted his head from side to side as he thought back to when he was just a wyrmling. "Well, I guess you could say I was always a deputy. Jeb bought me when I was still an egg and ever since I hatched, I've helped him around town. But I think I was four when he officially made me deputy," he explained proudly and continued to walk down the main street.

Benjamin was not ignorant of the trade of dragons and knew that it was a common practice for eggs to be sold across the country, as it was often easier to transport a clutch of eggs than a mischief of freshly hatched wyrmlings. Having read that bonds between dragons and their families were strong and, as such, it was often better for the young to be removed before they formed a bond with their sire or dam. As he thought about what it would have been like for the dragon to hatch and be cared for by the late marshal, it began to dawn on Benjamin that Jebediah would have been more of a father figure to Kaaneth than just a partner.

"I'm sorry about Jebediah. I take it he meant a lot to you," Benjamin said, placing a hand on the drake's shoulder. The touch seemed to startle Kaaneth for a moment and he felt the muscles twitch under his scaled hide. "May I ask what happened?"

Kaaneth paused to give way to the large, muscular brute of a dragon that pulled a cart that seemed insistent on tracking to the side. Like all carts, the trailer's two shafts were connected to the dragons on either side of their powerful hips and were secured to their harness with strong leather straps and iron buckles. As the teal dragon walked, it kept its tail low and under the wagon while being careful not to roll over the long appendage. A fierce snarl suddenly appeared on the dragon's snout and its frustration built as one of the cart's wheels dipped into a rut and the whole contraption ground to a halt. However, before Kaaneth could offer assistance, the large dragon dug its claws into the ground and yanked forwards to pull it free. The pair heard the cart groan and squeak in protest, but it was only answered by the dragon spewing a string of profanities under its breath as it continued to pull the stubborn cart past them.

"You mean how he died?" Kaaneth asked and when Benjamin nodded, he continued. “He was sick for a long time. He used to work in the mines before becoming a marshal and I guess it was only a matter of time," he said in a voice that sounded almost rehearsed. "But he's in a better place now," he added, looking back toward the saloon behind him. "Speaking of better places, Mike runs that saloon. He makes some of the best ribs you'll ever taste, and he also brews coffee in the morning that'll get you hooked. It also helps that he makes coffee's large enough for us dragons without just diluting it to death."

Benjamin understood the dragon's change of subject and glanced back at the saloon. The structure was very asymmetrical, with half of the building left as an open-air pavilion, sheltering large cushions that dragons could lounge on. The other half was far more regular, enclosed with timber walls, stained in an oil that colored the wood orange, and its large roof sealed with black tar. Overall, the structure was striking, if not a bit tired-looking, and Benjamin could imagine how busy it would have been when the town had still been full of miners. "I'll have to check it out," he said, turning back to continue walking beside Kaaneth.

Using his folded wings, Kaaneth gestured toward the large, stable-like building across from the Marshal's office. A woman stood on the balcony, cigarette in hand, her fiery red hair pulled back in a loose bun. "That's Rose. Ain't nobody more important than Rose, ain't that right?" he called out loud enough for her to hear.

"Naw, you're a sweetie, Kaaneth. Who've you got there?" Her thick, european accent made Benjamin pause for a moment, but she smiled, stubbing out her cigarette on the banister before waving them over. She wore a dark blouse under an apron that was littered with countless mysterious stains which, along with her fiery red hair, gave her a wild look about her. 

Before he could reply, Kaaneth draped a folded wing around him and guided Benjamin over with a smile. "This is my new deputy, Benjamimah," he chuckled, even as Benjamin pushed his wing away.

"Benjamin Denton," he corrected, glaring up at the dragon as he removed his hat. "Marshal! Benjamin Denton," he emphasized, extending his hand to the woman, Who, instead of offering her hand elegantly, rubbed her palms on her blouse and gripped his outstretched hand like a gentleman.

"Ah, so Kaaneth's oppressive rule is finally at an end, is it?" Rose laughed, shaking the new Marshal's hand. "About bloody time too," she added jokingly, causing the drake to place a forepaw on his chest as if wounded by her words.

"I've been nothing but an arbiter of order! Miss Rosalie Edwards—" Kaaneth began his newly learned phrase but was silenced by a stern look from the woman. "Sorry, Rose," he said meekly as he remembered he couldn't get away with butchering her name.

"That's right, snowflake. Just Rose. Only my mother would call me Rosalie," she scolded before looking at Benjamin with a smirk. "You've got to watch this one; give him an inch and he'll take a mile."

Benjamin was surprised that the large drake accepted her corrections and was baffled that Kaaneth even apologized. It was only now that Benjamin noticed the fine gold necklace around her neck. The piece was similar to the ones he had seen nuns wearing, yet it wasn't adorned with a crucifix and instead the chain looped through a crude wedding band made from what looked like twisted brass wire.

"Aye, I'm starting to get that impression," Benjamin said, eyeing the large stable-like building behind her. "Do you trade livestock or dragons?" he asked, trying to spot a sign on the front.

"Neither, thankfully," Rose said as she retrieved a small silver cigarette case from the front pocket of her apron and extracted a fresh cigarette. "I'm the town's doctor, veterinarian, and the go-to place for when someone gets a wee splinter in their paw. Ain't that right, Kaaneth?" she explained, looking up at the drake with a raised eyebrow.

"Like I said, the most important person in town," Kaaneth replied with a sheepish grin, "If something is wrong, Rose is the one to help you. So, best be on her good side."

Benjamin frowned. He had heard news of a few women becoming doctors on the East Coast but was surprised to meet one in person, let alone so far west. His confusion was evident on his face, to which Rose chuckled loudly and waved a hand to dismiss his concern. "Don't worry your pretty green eyes. I may not have a piece of paper saying I'm a doctor, but during the war, no one was complaining. I can fix anything from a broken leg to spirits in the blood."

"You served in the war? Whereabouts?" asked Benjamin, instinctively reaching for his pocket watch but quickly remembering it was gone.

"The hellholes had a few names, many not repeatable in civilized society," Rose explained as she placed the cigarette between her lips and began fishing through her apron for a match. "But my fellow sisters and I were pretty much always a full day's flight away from the action," she added, smiling as she found a match. Running its tip along the banister, a flame ignited on the end and she lit her smoke. "Bloody glad that lot is over though," she added with a shiver and the tip of her cigarette glowed red as she inhaled.

Benjamin nodded in understanding as the woman blew the acrid-smelling smoke over her shoulder. "Well, it has been a pleasure meeting you, Rose. Let's pray I don't need your services anytime soon."

"Pray all you want, it won't do much more than make you feel better," she mused, and when she saw the man tilt his head in confusion, waved a hand to dismiss him. “Oh, don't mind me," she added before looking up at the dragon. "I saw the little one and Timothy trying to sneak off with one of Raahn's tools. Just thought you should be aware."

"Thank you, Rose. I appreciate the tip-off," Kaaneth replied, dipping his head in farewell. As the pair left the woman's makeshift infirmary, Benjamin moved closer to the white drake so that he could talk quietly.

"Is it Miss Rose? Or Mrs. Rose?" he asked, and when the drake's lips curled back in a mischievous grin, he quickly clarified. "Not like that! I just mean, to have her own business. It's a bit peculiar, isn't it?"

Kaaneth looked down at the man and shrugged. "Not really. There is some history there that you should probably know if you're gonna hang around," he said, gesturing with his head towards the low, sun-bleached building with a peaked roof and a cart curiously perched atop it. "That's Josiah and Margaret's general store. Josiah had an older brother, Kelvin. Kelvin enlisted but died towards the end of the war. He apparently left the family's dragon trading business to the nurse that he fell in love with. Caused a whole hoo-ha when Rose returned to deliver the news and converted their dragon trading hub into the clinic. See, Josiah thought he would get the family business, and as you can imagine, they don't really see eye to eye now," he explained with a hint of a smile.

"I see," Benjamin mused while looking back at Rose's establishment. "Well, it's good to see that the town has a doctor now. Not many small towns are so lucky."

“I agree, Windslow isn't exactly flourishing like it used to be when Lowood mining company was operating here, but that's to be expected. Thankfully, even though almost everyone has moved on, we still have some real talent left in this town," the dragon explained, nodding towards the building with a sign that read leatherwork and saddlery. The building seemed more of an afterthought or a store room for the open deck that stood low above the ground and gave its owner room to move about. Rows and rows of large tools lined the walls around a large brown dragon sitting on his haunches, tending to a pelt strung up on a frame. “Like Raahn here. I've yet to meet anyone who can make a harness or saddle that lasts like one of Raahn's," he continued, causing Raahn to turn his head to look in their direction. 

The dragon was clearly older by the look of the crown of horns that protruded from behind his head and jaws, but, despite Kaanth's paws being a similar shade of brown, it was clear from the shape of their heads that they were not related. With countless chips, cracks, and scars marking his scales, the dragon looked like he had seen his fair share of fights and wore the telltale scars under his jaws from where his fire glands once were. When he looked between them with a gruff look on his face, Benjamin could see a hint of a blue haze in his eyes and knew that the drake was well past his prime. “You can try to sweet-talk me all you like, but one of my punches seems to have grown wings and flown off this morning," grumbled the dragon in a deep baritone voice, “I'm getting tired of my stuff being stolen, Kaaneth."

Benjamin's eyes widened, and he approached the dragon with a concerned look. “Something was stolen? Are you sure?" he asked, noticing a wide array of tools hanging neatly on the wall of the building, each one crafted with care and designed for use by large paws. 

The brown drake looked between Benjamin and Kaaneth, before ignoring the well-dressed man and instead asked the fellow dragon, “Who's ya friend?"

Kaaneth's frill flicked upwards as he smiled and dipped his head towards the man beside him. “He is taking over from Jeb, this is Marshal—"

“Benjamin, my name is Benjamin," interrupted the Marshal before the dragon could come up with another name to call him. “You say that you've been robbed. Any ideas who did it?" he asked, but watched as the pair of dragons shared a knowing look. Seeing the hesitation from the drake, he softened his voice and tried to sound helpful. “If you know who it could be, we can bring them to justice."

“Oh, they are probably not stolen; I must have just misplaced it. Been doing that a lot lately," Raahn replied stiffly and Benjamin could tell that dragon was withholding information. The drake gave Benjamin a polite smile before his large eyes flicked down towards his waist and the gunbelt that hung too low. “Although, If my punch appears on my workbench again before the end of the day, I'll be able to adjust that for you after I'm done with this. We can't have ya gun falling off ya while you run after a hooligan, now can we?"

Benjamin frowned; it seemed clear to him that the dragon was not being entirely forthcoming, but when Kaaneth's wing nudged him, he looked up to see the drake give him a look to drop it. Kaaneth bowed his head slightly towards Raahn and held the other drake's gaze. “Well, if we see it on our travels, we will let you know. But I'm sure it will show up sooner than later–"

“Oh, you-hoo!" a feminine voice called from across the street, and Benjamin saw both dragons tense. Turning around, the three watched as a woman wearing a fine layered petticoat and cream blouse approached them from the direction of the general store, while holding a lace parasail over her shoulder. 

As she came closer, Benjamin noticed her complexion was paler than natural, with the exception of her rosy cheeks and lips. While not ignorant of the latest fashions, he was surprised that someone would put so much effort into their appearance while so far from the city. “Good afternoon, ma'am," Benjamin said warmly and quickly removed his hat. “Marshal Benjamin Denton, how do you do?" he asked politely, and he gently held her fingers when the woman offered her hand.

"Much better now. I had heard some scuttlebutt of a new marshal in town, and I sorely hoped it was true," she said before glancing up at the white dragon whose frill was flat against his neck. "Things just haven't been the same since ol' Jebediah passed, bless his soul."

"Well, I am deeply sorry to hear that, ma'am, but I do hope to do right by the town's fine folk. Miss?" Benjamin replied and gave her a polite nod.

“Oh, where are my manners? Mrs. Margaret Edwards. But most folk around here just call me Margaret. My husband Josiah runs the general store," she explained and gestured with a delicate hand towards the building with a cart parked on its roof.

“I heard that you were on the train when it was robbed. A foul lot, those Silver Fangs, absolutely good-for-nothing thieves. I hope that you will bring them to justice. Swift drop from a short rope for the lot of them."

Benjamin stole a glance towards Kaaneth, whose jaw clenched. “I completely agree—"

“And I think clipping their dragons' wings as an example would make others second-guess taking up such a life of crime," she continued as if the man hadn't spoken. At the mention of clipping— the practice of removing a dragon's wings with saws— Kaaneth and Raahn both shuffled their wings tighter to their bodies.

"Well, I will endeavor to hold them accountable for their crimes," Benjamin promised. He was rewarded with a polite nod and smile from the woman.

"Thank you, I couldn't hope for more. Just try not to get too bogged down with the rabble around here. These dragons are always up to mischief. My Josiah and I had been trying to get Jebediah to do something about the constant harassment for years," she explained, nodding toward Kaaneth and Raahn.

"Oh? What do you mean?" Benjamin asked, glancing toward the white drake. It was clear from the dragon's stiff posture, and how his frill lay flat against his neck, that he wasn't comfortable around the woman and Benjamin was starting to form his own opinions of Margaret.

"What do I mean? Well, let's start with the cart on the roof of our store," she said, turning around to point at the errant trailer parked on the roof of their building. "My husband built that store with his father, and one of the dragons around here stole our cart and dumped it up there—"

"It's not stolen; it's clearly still on your property," murmured Kaaneth, louder than he intended, while inspecting his paws. 

However, his off-hand remark did little to diffuse the situation and Margaret suddenly pointed an accusing finger at him. "See! This is what I mean— disrespectful, all of them!" Margaret howled and her ears turned pink. "One of them put it up there, and despite asking them nicely, none have had the decency to bring it down. Stupid, lazy, undisciplined beasts. We never would have had this sort of nonsense when Mayor Daniels was here. He knew just what to do with this lot."

Kaaneth's frill flicked upwards to full height, but when the dragon opened his mouth to retort, Benjamin held up a hand to silence him. “Ma'am, I believe I understand. Leave it with me, I will try to get to the bottom of it."

“Thank you, Marshal," the woman said and took a deep breath to compose herself again. “I think you are going to do some good things for this town," she said and raised her hand to bid the man farewell. “Much-needed, good things," she added with a not-inconspicuous glare at Kaaneth.

Benjamin, Kaaneth, and Raahn watched in silence, as she returned to her shop. Only once she was out of earshot did Raahn shuffle his wings. “I kinda like it up there," the older drake said, followed by a small nod toward the rooftop cart and a small snort of amusement. “Makes it easier to spot from the sky," he added when Kaaneth chuckled.

“You know who did it?" The marshal asked and knew that something was amiss when both dragons became suddenly very focused on their talons. “Alright, who was it?"

“No idea, probably just some fledglings playing around," Kaaneth said with a shrug, “ain't much to do around here."

“I heard it was some traveling dragons," Raahn explained and curled his tail around his paws, in doing so the long appendage nudged into Kaaneths hind paw. “Long gone from here now, can't really arrest them now, could ya, Kaaneth?" he offered and gave a wink to the white drake.

"Yeah, I think that was it," Kaaneth replied, but knew that the marshal wasn't buying it. "Besides, if we arrested everyone for every little thing..." he mused, turning his paw over to check the other side of his talons. “Wouldn't be anyone left in the town."

Benjamin took a deep breath and looked up at Kaaneth. "Do you mind getting it down?" he asked, but when the pair of dragons simply grinned, he took another deep breath, "Please."

"Oh, I would if I could, really would," Kaaneth said with an innocence in his voice that made Raahn chuckle as he returned to his tools. "But no can do, Billy Jam. Margaret managed to petition the folk to ban us from landing on roofs. See, we sometimes like to sunbake up there so we are out of the way, but she didn't take much of a liking to that. So, because of her, we can't land on roofs, and thus we can't get it down," he said with a grin that grew wider. "I, for one, really liked lounging on the roofs on warm days, it's good for the scales. But because I'm just such a law-abiding dragon, I can't go up there."

"Me neither," chimed Raahn with a chuckle as he worked a blade through the pelt he was handling. “And my scales could do with more sunshine on them."

Benjamin sighed and looked back at the general store. "Is that so? Then how did it get up there?" he asked, combing his hair with his fingers before donning his hat.

"Like Raahn said, traveling—" Kaaneth started but could tell by the unimpressed glare from the man that he wasn't going to be let off the hook. "All I know is that she made a scene and said some horrible things to a lot of people. See, we used to have two dragons that pulled freight from the train to all of the stores, nice drakes they were, weren't they Raahn?" he explained, looking towards Raahn who grunted in agreement. "But when the pair left for the city, and then everyone had to haul their own goods from the train to their stores. Margaret didn't much like that, now did she."

“No, no she didn't," Raahn remarked and placed the knife back on the shelf before selecting a hooked metal tool that Benjamin didn't recognize.

“She made quite the scene—standing in the street, shouting profanities and slurs. She demanded each and every one of us pull her cart and, when no one did, she just… kind of… kept screaming," Kaaneth recounted with a small smirk before he shrugged. “Then their cart was found on their roof the next morning. No one knows how it got there... cold case now," he said with a wink.

Benjamin shook his head in disbelief and sighed. “And now you can't get it down because you can't get on the roof?"

“I mean, I would like to. I love helping the fine folk of Windslow, but, you know, arbiter of order and all that. I wouldn't want to fly up there and upset her," he said, adjusting his badge while Raahn chuckled quietly, the brown drake's frame shuddering with a stifled laugh.

Looking up at the perched wagon, Benjamin tried to think of a way that he could try and safely lower the cart down to the ground, but was interrupted by the scampering of paws on the hard-packed dirt.

“Marshal! There has been a crime! Marshal!" squeaked a voice. Benjamin's hand instinctively went to his pistol as a yellow blur crashed into the side of the white dragon at speed. Spinning around, he saw the large drake fall to the ground with a small, yellow-colored dragon latched onto his neck with her paws. His grip relaxed as he realized it was the young dragoness he had seen playing in the street and that Kaaneth was not in any serious danger.

“Ooof!" Kaaneth gasped dramatically as he slumped on the ground, his fall having helped cushion the dragoness's tackle. “Marshal down! Aaagh!" he added, holding the young dragon close while it giggled hysterically. “I'm dead! Mortally wounded by an apex predator!"

“No! Don't die!" laughed the small 'ness, as Kaaneth tried to stand up and then collapsed again dramatically.

Benjamin stood back and watched as the drake pretended to breathe his last in an exaggerated groan and then became limp. Seeing the pair next to one another, he began to notice similarities in their faces and proportions even though the dragoness was a fraction of Kaaneth's size. Despite her scales being a vibrant yellow, and his a pale white, Benjmain realized that the larger scales that adorned her throat and front were an identical shape as Kaaneth's, just smaller and softer.

With Kaaneth lying motionless, she nuzzled her snout under his paw and lifted it up before stepping back. When his head fell back down limply, she giggled and crouched down low to the ground. Benjamin watched as the small wyrmling's tail swished back and forth while she waited for any movements from the drake, before she lunged forward and bit his neck. “Ow! Kaarisa, what was that for?" Kaaneth exclaimed and opened his eyes, pretending the dragoness' small, needle-like teeth had hurt his armored hide.

“For dying!" Kaarisa giggled and jumped back as the drake righted himself. The larger dragon remained low on the ground, so he was closer to her height and beamed down at the dragoness who plowed her head into his front. “You can't die, a crime has happened!" she squeaked and nuzzled against him.

Kaaneth gasped and looked down at her in shock. “A crime! What sort of crime?" he asked. “Where is that Timothy boy? I bet he is the culprit. Filthy two-legger!" he exclaimed playfully.

"Timothy isn't filthy!" Kaarisa exclaimed and jumped back to face her father with her wings partially mantled to appear bigger. "Take that back!"

"Only if you tell me what crime has happened," Kaaneth said playfully and lowered his head so he wasn't looking down at the yellow dragoness.

"My harness broke!" she explained, turning to show the drake where one of the straps that wrapped around her shoulders now dangled down her side. While Kaaneth and the others wore harnesses complete with various loops and pouches for storing day-to-day items, the wyrmling's was a simple collection of straps and a single pouch on the side of her tail for collecting trinkets or storing a snack.

"And how did that happen?" Kaaneth asked, gently pulling the wyrmling around so he could inspect the troublesome band of leather. While the drake's paws weren't as dexterous as a human's hands, Kaaneth's digits worked with practiced ease as he looped the small strap back through its buckle and tugged it tight.

"We were playing tailors," she said simply and rocked as the drake secured the strap around her so it wouldn't come loose. "We are getting ready for a fair!"

"Really? A fair! That would be nice," Kaaneth mused while inspecting his handiwork. "I hope you haven't tailored Timothy's clothes, have you?"

"Yeah, of course! His shirts are easy to cut," she squeaked proudly, holding up a claw to Kaaneth who didn't seem to share her enthusiasm. With a shuffle of her shoulders and a stretch of her wings, she concluded that her father's 'repairs' were satisfactory. "Thanks, okay bye-"

“Not so fast, little one," Kaaneth said, gripping her tail with a paw as she tried to leap away. She looked offended as he pulled her back and opened the small pouch on the base of her tail to retrieve a leatherworking punch.

“How did that get in there?" Kaarisa asked sheepishly, shrinking back under her father's gaze before spotting Benjamin watching. “Who are you?" she asked, hoping to change the subject.

“Kaarisa, say hello to Marshal Benjamin," Kaaneth said warmly, nudging her towards him with a paw as he rose to his feet.

“Hello to Marshal Benjamin," Kaarisa said with a playful smirk that matched Kaaneth's. Noticing that she was free of the white drake's paws, she nodded to the man and scampered off before he could reply.

Benjamin chuckled as the young dragoness raced down the street towards the boy whom he assumed was Timothy. The human child had been keeping his distance around the corner of the barbershop and, once his friend had caught up with him, quickly disappeared from view. When he looked back at Kaaneth, he saw the white drake place a leatherworking punch on Raahn's workbench and nod to the brown drake, who just thanked him and shook his head with a smile.

Leaving Raahn to his work, Kaaneth and Benjamin continued down the main street. "Kaarisa is yours, I take it?" Benjamin asked, glancing up at the drake who nodded. "You have a partner here then? A mate?" he inquired but was surprised when the drake shook his head.

"Nope, it's just me and Kaarisa," he replied simply and, before the marshal could probe further, Kaaneth changed the subject, "Whereabouts are you staying? At the saloon?"

Benjamin reached into his back pocket to retrieve the note of instructions and scanned through the writing. "I believe it assumes Jebediah would handle that, but with him unable to perform his duties, I'm to take over his dwelling," he mused, finding the line instructing him to do so.

"Oh, goodie. You get to stay with us!" Kaaneth chuckled, continuing to walk with a small spring in his step. "I'll get a haunch of beef from the butchers for supper. José seasons the meat with herbs; really brings out the flavor. Kinda loses it when it gets cooked though."

"Oh goodie, indeed," Benjamin muttered under his breath. Due to their inability to hold a knife and fork, or sit at a table, he doubted that a dragon devouring their meal would be a delicate or gentle activity.