As I stepped out onto the field the roaring cheer of the crowd filled my ears. It was an odd sound through the helmet, like hearing someone down a distant hallway yet still at such a volume as to be all-encompassing and… overpowering, if I was going to be perfectly honest. I craned my neck up as I looked out over the stands, it was full, hell, it was probably at capacity, I could hardly see a single empty seat amongst the gigantic oval that made up the ‘colosseum’ in the outskirts of London. It was a mess of colors and people, a mishmash of the type I had seen in London and many more, that seemingly came from all across the world just to watch the day’s events.

Speaking of which. My eyes landed on a chunk of broken claw sticking out of the sand a good thirty feet in front of me near one of the pillars that form the gates for the race. Some unlucky wyvern involved in the first race of the day must have partially collided with it, tearing out a chunk of its claw in the process. It was Crawford and his group, though you doubt it was Crawford himself, the man was involved in the first group of racers, you are in the second, then after you, there was a third and then a fourth. The man was too good of a rider for that, at least, I suspected he was as such. My eyes lingered on it for only a moment longer before I turned my gaze to the others coming out of the stables. Of the three other wyverns arriving Beithir was the smallest, though by comparison not by much. The largest, a long yellow almost… serpentine beast came in next to its rider wearing what looked to be silks instead of the gambeson the rest of us were wearing. The wyvern’s wings were of a different shape as well, not near as wide but far far longer than Beithir’s, going almost from the head to the legs, probably twenty or so feet long, in comparison to Beithir’s ten. The other two were more standard variants, one red, and one green respectively. Beithir was the smallest as usual, though the one with red scales was close.

I turned my gaze back to the announcers as they started to laud the achievements of the four of us, the man’s shouted praises echoed throughout the stadium, and it was something I ignored as I reached up to climb up onto Beithir. I had little in the way of achievements to laud in any case, though I turned my head slightly as the man’s voice hiccuped in surprise as I mounted Beithir early.

“Well, ladies and gentlemen, it seems one of our racers is rather eager!” the announcer said, an overdressed fop with a ringleader’s mustache to match. He looked down at the sheet of paper in his hand, quirking a styled brow in the process. “Arthur Adair, on his Caucus Skyracer!”

A cheer sounded out through the crowd, and I simply stared down at the man. “He’s fro-”

Our eyes met as he began to speak, and the words died in his throat. It was the same man who announced the fight earlier, and I simply glared down at him without a word. My one-handed grip on the reins tightened, and the man hurriedly focused on the racer with the green wyvern nearby. I loosened my grip on the reins and let out a breath, idly looking over the field once more as with the last platitudes the announcers started going over the rules. A simpler affair than the last one arguably, and safer as well. Poles were set at regular intervals along the arena, and the job of the racers was to fly through them in order in two laps, with the leader at the end of course taking the victory. The main difference compared to the last time however is there are fewer things to actually hit, like I unfortunately did, and my competitors were actively flying with me and attempting to get in my way.

“Contact with any other racers or their wyverns is forbidden, the queen expects a clean and honorable race!” The announcer finished. “Take your station's riders!”

I gently nudged Beithir, and she took a leisurely pace towards the starting line marked in the dirt. The other three racers lined up beside me, some looked relaxed, others looked tense… and I was just looking to get this started already. Leaning forward I gently ran my hand along Beithirs’ neck, the wyvern letting out a snort that I had vaguely learned to translate as ‘focus, you idiot’. Smiling slightly, I leaned back and grabbed onto the saddle horn with my good hand, the other hanging limply at my side, the reins, for the moment, forgotten. The sound of the gunshot was piercing, a loud crack that announced the start of the race. The signal for the riders to spur their mounts into action.

…

I had to do nothing.

Beithir leapt forward, her wings flapping at her side as she took off from the starting line like the aforementioned gunshot. My grip on the saddle horn was tight, and unlike before I didn’t slam into the back of the saddle, instead I used my strength to pull my body forward, presenting as little of myself to the air as possible as Beithir screamed past the riders beside me. Beithir was best in a straight line, the shape of her body meant that she accelerated hilariously quickly but didn't have enough wingspan to keep that up through turns. I tilted my body, leading Beithir through the first turn, a wide half-moon arc that takes us right against the glass that protects the stands. As we did so the yellow slithering wyvern overtook us, passing a good foot above my head as its long thin body allowed it to twist into the turn far more easily than Beithir could. I ducked underneath it reflexively and made Beithir go into a slightly shallow dive as we came back out of the turn again. Now underneath the other wyvern, I nudged Beithir in the side, hoping to use the straightway to pass it by, only to lurch away as the snake-like wyvern lowered itself as well, its rider looking back as it blocked our forward movement.

Aye?

The rider in yellow looked forward again, snapping the reins of his wyvern and increasing the distance between the two of us. With effort, I stood up in the saddle, then leaned forward as far as I could until my arms, useless and otherwise, were wrapped around Beithir’s neck. Then with my knees, I squeezed against her side as strong as I dared.

Beithir roared a challenge, and she flapped her wings as hard as she could three times before slamming them taut against her side. The wind screamed through my helmet as we gained speed, and in a moment we were side by side with the yellow wyvern and following it through a turn, my head turning right to look at my opponent. Our speed was a perfect match as Beithir slowed to make it through the turn, and we both came out onto the long stretch back to the starting line neck and neck. The next two gates passed us by with our wyverns fighting for speed, Beithir pulling ahead slightly but the other rider doing all they could to keep pace. The other wyvern wasn’t as gifted with acceleration as Beithir was, but her long and thin design meant she could naturally keep a higher speed than my own. We went into the next turn, still neck and neck, but then we both veered to the side as with a loud roar the red wyvern went screaming overhead, bellowing flame that narrowly missed us both. I pulled Beithir back under control as the wyvern recovered, the yellow wyvern gaining a lead and chasing after the red one. I glanced back to see the green wyvern chasing after me, its rider desperate not to be in last place. While I was in the straightaway with the yellow and red wyvern both gaining speed away from me.

…

I smiled. Then leaned forward further until my head was just by Beithir’s horn. “Are ya just gonna let them beat ya like that?” I shouted.

Beithir looked up for the first time in a half minute, having been focused entirely on keeping above the ground and avoiding the poles. I watched as her gaze landed on the yellow and red wyverns, and her eyes narrowed. Beithir had something to her I had noticed some time back, something that reminded me of myself more than any other animal. She was stubborn.

Beithir’s flames erupt from her throat and paint the ground in orange and red, and this time I did slam back into the saddle as Beithir let loose everything she had into her charge. My hand grabbed the reins and yanked them to the side, pulling Beithir as tight as I could into the turn as we narrowly missed colliding with the yellow wyvern. Then I let go, throwing myself forward to grip the saddlehorn once more and lowered my body once more, “down girl!”

Beithir tucked in her wings and dived, passing by the red wyvern and stirring up the dust and dirt beneath us in a billowing cloud. Then, in another instant, it was over. Beithir’s head passed between the starting poles, then the rest of her body, and I led her through the next two gates as she gradually lost speed, before, with a gentle pull of the reins my wyvern slowed to a stop onto the ground. She looked back up at me curiously as we stopped, then looked up at the crowd roaring in adulation as we were announced as the victors.

I smiled.

Not at the victory, though that was of course precisely what I was aiming for.

No, I smiled at the look Beithir had given me.

‘What, that’s it?’

---

I stepped into my room with a sigh, they didn’t actually allow me to leave the colosseum until the rest of the races were finished, and then there was a mandatory dinner. It was good food, but past a certain point, a man is just hot and tired and wishes to be done for the day. The room was fancy, provided by the staff for those that couldn’t, or didn’t wish to, afford to get their own places in London to stay. In my case, I couldn’t afford a place to stay in London even if I wanted to, and I was not going to lean on Morrigan’s charity more than I already was. I placed down the helmet onto the nightstand, the dent from my earlier grip gleaming in the light provided by the streetlights outside, their dim rays reaching through into my second-story room and painting the whole space in a sickly yellow pallor.

Morrigan was a few rooms away from me, though at the moment I was in no mood for more… talking. I had left the field with Beithir in tow the second I finished the race, just barely catching the shocked looks from the other racers; as if I had just slapped their mothers. I did not find many conversations during dinner, which suited me fine as I wanted nothing to do with any of them. Not like there was anything to discuss in any case. I glanced towards the window once more before I pulled off the remainder of my riding outfit then switched into far more comfortable clothing. Once done I took a glance at the bed… then turned right back around to the door and made my way through the hotel and back outside. The cool night air of London was a relief, despite the… less than savory smell it brought with it. I had been in my gambeson for most of the day, and while that did an absolutely wonderful job of keeping a wyvern from crushing my ribcage with a nudge, it did precisely nothing when it came to sweating to death. Or rather, it did quite a lot and I was not wholly appreciative, my heavy boots clicked against the sidewalk, and I let my eyes wander around as I made my way towards my destination only a few blocks away. Shops lined the street, most, but not all closed for the day. Their wares were still plainly visible in their glass front begging people to browse and purchase, the foot traffic had lessened, not completely, but lessened, with most of the people out at this time of night either heading home from their work or stumbling into… or out of the many bars that are present in this section of the city.

I breathed in the air and idly looked up towards a wyvern perched along the roof of a building before I heard the chorus of footsteps behind me. Too many and too close together to be just a small random group, and the fact that the people in front of me were rather hurriedly crossing the street gave me a good idea of what was following just behind me. With my boots still on it was not at all hidden as to what I had found myself doing for a living, and my face was plastered over half of the town regardless. So these weren’t random muggers, which meant… I had pissed someone off. Not a surprise, hell, I had expected something to happen. Though perhaps not this soon. Turning right at the end of the street I increased my pace, not quite a jog, but definitely a quick walk. They followed, but didn’t speed up themselves, probably waiting for me to walk somewhere they could rough me up without too many witnesses.

Well.

I could oblige in that case. With another quick turn, I reached my destination, a small building, little more than one story with a crude drawing of a wyvern on a sign above the door. Walking past the door I made my way around to the back where a large barn door was set at the end of a ramp that led into the building’s converted cellar. I could hear the sound of their boots on the grass nearby as I slipped the key I was given into the lock and swung the doors open. Darkness greeted me, darkness, along with the smell of flameproof hay. The building was a little family-owned shop that sold pets, and they also happened to have a space to take care of larger wyverns if necessary.

I briefly wondered who sent these men after me, but there was nothing that immediately came to mind. So instead I simply turned around and looked back up the ramp where they had started to make their way down. There were six of them, each fitting rather well the description of ‘thug’. The sound of heavy breathing sounded out behind me, as did the sound of rustling hay as they approached. I was rather proud of my strength and endurance, but that meant very little against six men armed with canes and knives. “I would ask if you would simply consider backing away.”

“‘Fraid that isn’t an option friend.” One of the men says, a larger brute with a bald head.

“Are you sure?” I asked, idly moving my hands to my side as two of the men move to block the exit.

A laugh comes from the man, something echoed by the rest of his friends.

I snapped my fingers, and the laugh died immediately as Beithir’s silver form came out of the darkness to hover over my shoulder. The men don’t so much back off as flee from the building as fast as their legs could carry them, running off into the night to be away from the wyvern that appeared from the dark like a wraith.

I simply reached up to rub Beithir’s snout, the wyvern in question growling happily. “Aye, good girl.”

I slept in Beithir’s stable that night.