I forced my attention away from the wyvern to focus on the fop instead. He smelled better than half the shit-heap that was the city around him, expensive colognes and soaps blanketing his body enough to make my nose nearly curl. I had known him for less than ten seconds and already I wasn’t a fan.

“Good day, Sir Wellbrook,” Crawford greets, nodding his head slightly in respect. “My name is Crawford Benningham, I believe this is our first meeting.”

The man comes to a stop about a half second before his stomach does. The man was large, the fine clothes only doing so much to hide his girth. Still, there was a rapidity to his steps that showed more strength than his body would suggest. When he spoke it was with an air of the upper class. “And it is a good day indeed Crawford, I must thank you for returning my property to me.”

“It… wasn’t I actually,” Crawford said slowly, then gestured to me. “This is Arthur, your wyvern crashed into and destroyed his barn, along with other parts of his property.”

Wellbrook frowned, focusing on my and looking me up and down. “My apologies good man, I am Sir Wellbrook, this wyvern is part of my collection for the arenas. I must thank you for returning it to me, was insurance able to cover the damage?”

I frowned back, though my frown was more than likely for far different reasons. His collection, was it? “Ah don’t have any insurance, couldn’t afford it even if ah was wantin’ fer it.”

Wellbrook gave me a blank look, the kind of look a man gives when he can’t believe what he is hearing, that, or would rather pretend he didn’t understand it. “Would a few pounds do as a thanks? To cover the travel expenses?”

I stepped forward, the frown on my face deepening as I could tell where this conversation was headed already. “Ya owe me. Damn thing wouldn’t have run off if it wasn’t so mistreated to begin with. Don’t know what forms of honor ya have here in London, but in Scotland men square their debts. Ah had to wrestle that thing to the ground and pull a chunk of lumber out of its chest.”

Wellbrook looked past me towards the beast, and the light pink scar present on its chest. The wound has healed very well, and you have no doubts the wyvern could fly now if it only had the freedom for it. “As I said, a vagabond freed it, so anything I offer you is mere charity. I cna assure you, charity does not settle debts.”

I stared at him, I had halfway expected something like this to happen. My eyes slowly moved from him to the wyvern in the cage, its wings were still twitching, and it had backed up to the far corner to be as far away from Wellbrook as possible. “I’ll make a trade for it. I buy the wyvern, we call the deal square.”

Wellbrook laughed at that. “What would a jock want with a wyvern? And besides that this is of a rarer breed, you can’t possible affor-”

“Then what is your insurance, Wellbrook?” Crawford stepped in at that. “Arthur has a genuine case, as insured or not, the beast was owned by you, registered under your name, stored by your people, and did damage to Arthur’s property with witnesses. Including myself I might add. The burden of damages may still fall on your shoulders, if the thief cannot be found.”

Wellbrook glared at Crawford, a brief look of consternation passing over his features before he let out a sigh. “Name your price.”

“One hundred forty pounds now, and another one hundred sixty in six months.”

Welling laughed again, “that wouldn’t purchase a whelp of this species”

I nodded. “Aye, but it’s that or the courts. And if ah can’t offer the other half of the payment in six months ya are free to be takin’ the beast back with ye. Flamin’ hell, by then the beast may just well be raised properly.”

Wellbrook sneered, but said nothing as he offered his hand towards me. I ignored the look of horror and consternation Crawford was giving me, and instead produced the bundle of bills in my pocket and slammed it down in the hand of the nobleman. Wellbrook looked down at it briefly, nodded, then turned around to make his way over to the carriage while I leaned back against the cage.

In short order the carriage was moving again, eventually making it so that Wellbrook was out of sight and I was free to place my hand against my forehead. “That was all of my money,” I took a deep breath, ignoring the thought of trying to get one hundred sixty pounds in half a year. “I’ve got nothing else.”

Crawford let out a sigh, one hand moving through his hair as he looked towards the cage. “I can’t help you with that, I don’t live in London and have to be returning to Glasgow tomorrow. I can offer you a room for tonight at the hotel I’m staying at, but beyond that there isn’t anything I could do for you.”

“Ah wouldn’t ask fer any more to begin with, ya helped me get down here, now this is my mess to clean out. ‘Sides, while it was drastic the bastard wasn’t going to help me in any case.”

“Drastic indeed,” a new voice cuts in. And I turned my head to see a new figure approaching from a side door. She was tall and red of hair… and familiarly Irish.