Angelite attempted to pry the bars apart, but nothing changed. There were no dents, no curves, no way out.
"That's not going to work," a female voice said as a dragon walked into the dungeon.
"And I should listen to you because? I mean you do have a vested interest in keeping me here," Angelite responded, venom dripping from his voice.
"Now, is that any way to talk to your princess?" She asked.
"You are aware that I do not care, correct?"
"I have a million ways I can get you to care," she growled.
"Well, why should I? I don't know your name or what you look like. See, this is a dark cell and your subjects have never had the privilege of seeing you," Angelite questioned, trying to keep worry and fear from his voice.
Angelite heard his cell bars rattle, and he figured the princess had pressed herself against them.
"I suggest you watch your tone. You forget that I have all the power right now. All I have to do is snap my fingers and you dissappear...forever," she growled.
Angelite gulped and backed up. "I understand," he whispered.
"That's what I thought," she said, satisfied.
"Just answer me one question, why am I here?"
"Due to the current situation, we can't have any disloyalty," she answered.
"DISLOYALTY?!"
"Yes. Questioning the royal family's orders is treason," she responded.
"Since when?! You can't just spring new laws on us!"
"We can, and we did. Do you think you have some say in the government? You're not an advisor, you're only a lowly builder. You recieve plans and you build. That's all you're good for." She then turned around and walked out of the dungeon.
Angelite pounded on the bars in frustration. There had always been a hierarchy within the Glade. The royal family was on top, followed by the advisors. After them were the guards and hunters. Teachers and shop-owners were next. Builders were the lowest, generally considered useless. There was also an unspoken hierarchy for the criminal underworld. Assassins and bounty hunters were first. Second, there were smugglers. Informants were last. Informants were your way into the criminal underworld, they hooked you up with the "service" you needed.
As soon as Angelite stopped fuming, another dragon was thrown on top of him.
"Who are you?" Anglite asked.
"River," she responded. Based on her voice, landing on him wasn't fun for her either.
"What are you in for?" He questioned.
"I asked for more food," River growled, "One of my den mates was sick and they hadn't been given her meal. As soon as I finished my question, I was hauled here by those dung feeders."
"Sounds accurate enough. I was thrown here for mouthing off to a guard. I have a suspicion my friends are here to, just out of earshot," Angelite explained.
"What the Sirom do they want? Because if they want us to roll over, they've got another thing coming."
"What do you expect to do from here? There's only two of us, the locks are to small for our claws, and the bars are to strong," Angelite informed.
"Don't tell me you've given up!" River hissed.
Angelite just looked down, and scraped his claws against the floor.
"Of course I get trapped with the whimp," she growled under her breath.
"You haven't been in here as long as I have. Everything you're thinking, I've already tried."
"Ramming the bars?"
"Yes."
"Breaking the lock?"
"Yes."
"Breaking one of the walls?"
"Oh my Nature, River, I've thought of and tried everything!" He yelled.
"Look, I know you've given up," Angelite huffed at that, "But that doesn't mean I have to. I have to believe there's a way out of here."
River then turned and began blindly searching the cell.
