There was a ringing in Caethas's ears as he pulled his helmet off, gasping as he swallowed large mouthfuls of chilly, damp air. His head swam, the wind cold against his brow and crest. He felt icy flicks of rain, the harsh white light piercing his eyes after the restricted world of his helmet.

Before him the Pridoni warrior stirred drunkenly on the floor, mud and blood splattered across his battered armour.

Alive, though he had definitely taken a beating.

Somehow...Caethas stood.

The ringing had not abated. If anything, it was getting louder.

Then he realised the ringing was not in his ears. The rush was not just blood.

Someone was ringing a bell. The crowds were cheering.

He looked upwards eyes wide. The banners swung, sodden yet colourful from the stands. The Pridoni had risen to their feet, stamping and whistling and clapping. They were cheering him.

He gave a soft, breathless laugh.

Caethas raised his helmet high. The crowd roared.

"Dragon-Knight! Dragon-Knight! Dragon-Knight!"

The Pridoni chanted it over and over. A trumpet called, heralding his victory.

Caethas roared with laughter as well, waving his helmet like a banner.

"Dragon-Knight!" They cried, until it sounded like thunder.

***

A portrait of Sir Caethas drawn by  LynnCore