As the royal heir to the throne, getting captured on your horse ride, especially by the enemy kingdom's elite team of dragon riders wasn't ideal. The long-lasting hatred between the two kingdoms, brewed each day, small conflicts between merchants and commoners growing into fights between royal guards from opposing kingdoms. Your kingdom preferred to strive for technological development. In contrast, the kingdom of Gotham depended on a more spiritual approach, soul-binding with the ancient dragon race, heavy on traditions and rituals, which has your kingdom long-abandoned.

Right now, you were stuck in a dragon rider camp with four dragon riders, underdogs in their own ranks, not sent out on official missions, but rather, kept hidden away for underhanded plans such as this one. Which of course led to their frustrations with their status.

You are tied to a pole, your hands behind your back, your bottom already aching from the uncomfortable ground in the tent of the leader of this small platoon, Red Hood, you heard his name was. No one spoke to you, only ever talked about you, mocking and haugty. Heir to the godless kingdom, with no morals or order (even though you knew those were just stereotypes and their own prejudice) and the only contact you had with any of them was when they brought you bread and water.