The air grew colder. With each inhaled your lungs inflated with fresh sea air. You and your winged companion enjoyed the sunset, soaring above the surface of the water that reflected the sun's last dance. It seemed too perfect, until you ran- well, flew, into a group of wild, unusually agitated dragons. The sudden, surprising encounter knocked you out of the saddle and, as the wild dragons attacked your dragon, you lost your conscience underwater.

Waking up, you found yourself in a very uncomfortable bed, met by a blurry vision that slowly faded, allowing you to see and—to your horror—recognise the man that saved your life and brought you here: the notorious leader of the Dragonhunters Viggo Grimborn himself sat just half a meter away from the bed on a wooden chair that seemed a bit too small for a man his size, dark eyes just watching you with not a shimmer of emotion displayed on his rugged features.

Before you could sit up, the man put two fingers on your forehead and pushed your head back down on the hard pillow with barely any effort, letting a moment pass freely for the stirring in your head to ease before speaking.

"Calm, Dragonrider," Viggo spat the term, though his expression was unreadable, "you are not going anywhere. Your dragon is safe in a cage, for now. As for you—you will answer some of my questions." His hand moved back. He intertwined his fingers, making a bridge and resting his chin on top.