Thanks to @armoury for the beta!

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Of all of the places I had woken up over the years; the barn, the wagon, a relatively comfy patch of grass near the pens, I was rather proud to say that the inside of the constable’s mansion was, up to that point, not on my list. Admittedly that was partially because the constable lived a good three miles away in town and he was a fat and lazy bastard at the best of times. It was also because I didn’t have a habit of getting into trouble, but unfortunately, it would seem wyverns both cause and land me into trouble.

The sense of grogginess that I would expect wasn’t there as I opened my eyes, and beyond a dull pain in my head, there was little evidence that… I blinked. Staring at the cell illuminated by morning sunlight behind me. The thin rays lit up a small room, little more than maybe five feet in any given direction, with a small cot off to the side and a bucket beside it. The floor was broken stone, and the walls weren’t in a much better state. But my surprise wasn’t caused by the luxury of my accommodations. It was the fact that there was sunlight streaming in behind me, which means that unless I was dead I fell asleep. I vaguely recalled waking up while they were dragging me away, but it’s all foggy after that. Which, I suppose should be considered a blessing, I’ve seen a horse kick a man in the head, the bludgeon from the constable was only slightly kinder.

The light was golden at the very least, which means that unless something was well and truly wrong with southern England that it was morning. My nose twitched as the scent of the room hit me, and I grimaced towards the far end of the room. There, running from wall to wall was a series of iron bars with a door set into it. Pressing against the floor I was glad to find I wasn’t chained down, and with a stumbling walk, I made my way over to the bars. The gambeson I still had on was soaked and damp, whether from sweat or from the waters of the channel I couldn’t tell. It smelled like salt water, but then, so did everything else about myself. At least I didn’t sleep in the breastplate, I’d have been lucky to be able to move at all. My hands grasped the bars, steadying myself… and I found myself staring directly into the face of Morrigan. She wasn’t in nightclothes anymore, which does mean she probably got a more fitful sleep than I did. She also looked pissed, but that I was at least used to. That, and I was angrier than she was.

When I spoke I was barely above a growl, though it wasn’t her I was angry with. “Is the woman okay?”

Morrigan’s eyes widened for a brief moment as she was apparently surprised by that being the first thing out of my mouth. Then she nodded. “Yes. Badly burned but the doctor says she’ll make it. She’s lucky she was so close to the school, the doctor keeps good burn remedies around.”

“Ah wouldn’t call ‘er lucky.” I replied. “Luck when relatin’ an injury implies a miracle, and no god of mine is gonna put someone in the path of a flamin’ wyvern. How long are they keepin’ me in here?”

“You are free to leave,” Morrigan answered. “I spoke to the constables and they have been made to understand that you didn’t know the local laws, and that you were attempting to save the life of an injured woman. They have… little patience for wyvern riders.”

“Aye? I’m feelin’ precious little patience for them myself.” I replied. “One tortured his wyvern enough that it broke free and burned down my property. Others let them roam free when they get too big and solve the homeless problem. An’ now ah find that there’s some that decide to burn ships and buildings to test the heat of the flame of their beasts.”

With a metal shunk the door to my cell unlocked, and Morrigan stepped back with a brass key in her hand. Pushing my hand forward I swung the door open, stumbling out of my cell and into the long stone hallway. “Ah don’t know what form of operation ya have runnin’ here. But ah’m afraid to say I’m not the biggest fan.”

Morrigan frowned. “None of my students would do such a thing.”

“Well I haven’t met any of them have I?” I replied, then stumbled past her towards… somewhere. I assumed the entrance.

A hand on my arm stopped my walk, and I found myself forcefully spun around to face the irate irish woman. “Listen yeh stupid scot, A've about as much control over the London idjits as you do so don' be getting' mad at me about 'em. Ay got yeh out of that damn cell, so the least yeh can do is be polite, be quiet, and walk with me back to the school before Ay beat yer head in against these bars and lock ye back in!”

…

“Aye, sounds fair,” I replied. I had seen her angry before, I had never seen her so angry that she lost the proper accent she liked to put on. “Sorry about that.”

Morrigan stared at me for a few long moments before nodding. “Forgiven. Now steady yourself, the carriage is just outside.”

I nodded, pressing my arm against the wall to draw in a few breaths once she let go of me. My vision, previously swimming from the sudden movement, cleared, and I could make out the ‘lobby’ at the far end of the hallway and the door to the outside world. “Where’s… where’s Beithir?”

“Back at the school,” Morrigan replied. “She’s fine, the constables didn’t have anywhere to keep her so I volunteered.”

Well, that’s good, I halfway expected the local boys to have butchered her for meat. “Good, sure she’s missed me.” I replied, a small smile coming onto my face as I did so. The smile only grew as we stepped outside, and I relished the transition from the dingy interior of the jail to the bright and beautiful morning. It still smelled rotten of the city, but anything was better than where I was. I stepped forward firmly onto the cobblestones, looking down the street towards the hills beyond the town. The school wasn’t visible from here, too far back for that. But the golden morning light glinted off of the aerodrome and painted the surrounding buildings in colors like the stained glass of a church. It was a pretty sight, and it being the weekend and relatively early the sounds of the nearby ocean crashing against the shore was just about the only sound beyond the distant shouts of the dockworkers who didn’t know sleep, and the horse knocking its hooves against the ground in front of me.

I stared at the large draft and the fancy carriage behind it. “Ya sure ya want me to ride in your carriage?” it was about as fancy as the rich bastard back in London, and you were currently filthy.

“Please do not ask that question. If I stop to think about it I may make you walk back to the school Arthur.” Morrigan responded, stepping past me to open the door and step inside while doing so.

“Once again, fair enough.” I replied, then stepped up after her and settled in the seat across from the woman. On some hidden signal the man up front started the carriage moving, and I held onto the bench as it started shaking and bouncing on the cobbled road. Beyond the clack of the wheels on the road the journey was quiet, and it was only about a half-hour into it that one of us spoke again, Morrigan specifically.

“What precisely do you mean to accomplish Arthur?”

“A shower when we get back,” I replied. “Though ah feel that wasn’t what you were askin’.”

“Your deal with Wellbrook, assuming you even win a tournament to collect the prize money. What do you plan to do then? You certainly don’t enjoy the life.”

I snorted. “Ah enjoy ridin’ wyverns just fine Morrigan. It’s the nobles and boat burners ah have problems with. Once ah get the money to buy Beithir ah’m going to use the remaining funds to rebuild my farm then set ‘er loose.”

“Highly illegal and highly dangerous with a full-sized wyvern.” Morrigan replied, an edge to her voice.

“Set ‘er loose in the pens then. She can protect the coos from the whipper-drakes.” I said. “Ah ain’t gonna let her loose in a forest regardless. But she deserves more than ah cage, even a coo bound for slaughter isn’t kept in one long term.”

Morrigan let out a long slow breath, her gaze turning towards the windows. “The first tournament is a race, do you think you can handle that?”

I smiled. “Aye, I think I can handle that.”

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*Two months later*

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My hand ran along Beithir’s snout, the wyvern letting out a soft trilling sound as my fingers ran along the ridges. Her tongue darted out to briefly lick at my fingers before she turned her head to look at me.

“Excited girl?” I asked.

The wyvern blinked, then looked forward again as the platform we were standing on lurched. With a loud hiss of steam and a screech of metal, the elevator started to rise. The stable previously visible all around me disappeared from view, and I glanced up to see the ceiling a good fifty feet above me slowly start to slide open. The transition from the darkness of the elevator shaft caused by it rising, to the almost punishing brightness of the noon sun pouring almost directly down into it was striking, and I raised my gauntleted hand to block it as best as I could as we rose steadily upwards.

The light only made the barding Beithir was draped in glint all the more beautifully. The silver wyvern was bedecked in blue cloth with golden edging, it ran along her entire frame from the base of the neck near the horns to drape over the wings then split just at the base of the tail. It was beautiful silken fabric, and Beithir seemed to actually rather enjoy having it on… given how long it took to get it back off of her the first time she had a dress rehearsal. Across the top of the fabric was the print of a golden rose in the grip of a raven, the symbol of the school. Unlike the other wyvern riders I saw around I didn't have my family crest on the barding… mostly because I had to borrow some barding from Morrigan due to not being able to afford my own.

Still, the wyvern looked good, and that seems to be the point. I didn’t exactly have a family to advertise anyway. The cheering crowd broke me from my contemplation, and I looked up again as the elevator lurched to a stop. I stood along with a good dozen other wyvern riders in what was basically a gigantic oval. It was several hundred yards from end to end, and maybe a hundred yards wide. Extended from it were stands, stacked atop each other with each higher section a bit further back. Above all of them mounted on truly gargantuan poles was a gigantic and thick net that ran over the top of the structure, in it… it was probably the largest building in England by my reckoning.

Of course, that was just the stands and the dirt. Sprouting up from the dirt was a series of large rings held aloft by poles. Each space a few dozen yards apart and creating a sort of ‘path’ around the arena. The race, as it has been explained to you multiple times, was a timed event, where each rider was to make solo laps through the rings three times, and the best time overall continues onto the main event where everyone that qualified races against each other all at the same time.

Frankly, it sounds like a mess, but the crowd loved it… and Beithir had been eager to show just how fast she is for some time now. I stared up at the crowd, tightening my gauntlets without looking before reaching for Beithir’s reins. I let the cheering wash through me, the energy was damn infectious, and I found a rather unfamiliar giddiness in my voice when I leaned down to speak to Beithir. “Let’s show ‘em what two Scotsmen can do aye?”