The tavern was alive with excited conversation and sloshing ale glowing under the warm candle and torch light. Rhys took a swig from his mug, listening to his friend, Riddoc, talk about the upcoming race. They were both dragon racers, though Riddoc wasn’t as deeply involved in the business as Rhys was. Riddocs work primarily focused on welding weapons and tools for Stogen capital. The upcoming race would be a rough one. It started across a wide expanse of ocean and followed its coastline before racers would have to weave through dense forest. After, they would fly through a ravine notorious for raiders who attacked any and all dragon riders. The remaining racers would follow the ravine until it fed them into an unstable cave system which they’d have to find their way out of before looping around the island and back to the starting point. Rhys had full faith he and his mount, Sgaeyl, would do well. However, it wouldn’t be without its challenges. Riddoc was still talking his ear off when Rhy’s dark green eyes alighted on a familiar figure seated in a corner of the tavern, their hood drawn to conceal their features in shadow. He would recognize his rival anywhere.