As the General, Avance of Mercury, walked the streets of Jupiter's Gold District, his gaze fell upon the open skies. He took a moment to breath, to bury his hesitation and then he shouted out a name into the waiting heavens above.

"Fafnir!" That thunderous shout shocked everyone in the streets. The men and women of noble birth turned to face him. Then they were silenced, for a single bellow split the skies and shook the world, it knocked them all to the ground. The crowd faced the clouds in terror as a single black speck punched through and scattered the white heavens like ripples in the sea. The people panicked and fled as that figure bore down upon them.

The sky shook and the earth rumbled. The guards drew their weapons but even they kept their distance. They were trapped in terror and awe towards the creature before them. The beast gripped a tower with its clawed limbs, its wings collapsed like an umbrella one minute before expanding the next to blanket all under the sky, its tail coiled around the tower's base, easily sheering away centuries old stones. Every scale on its body was jet black, only its eyes were blue as the sky.

"Dragon!" One of the guards yelled in panic and shock. The beast took sight of him, but all it did was snarl before it leapt free of the tower. Then with another thunderous crash it slammed down into the concrete before its waiting master, General Avance of Mercury. The people then watched in dread and awe, they could not imagine what was more frightening, the beast itself or the man to whom it bowed its head.

"Fafnir, there's somewhere I want to go. Will you accompany me like the old days?" The dragon heard its master's words clear as day and stood tall to gaze upon the distant northern lands. Avance understood from that gesture alone that the beast had guessed his intentions, it could not speak as men did but it was smart enough even to gaze upon most of mankind with a justified sense of contempt.

The beast allowed its master to climb upon its back without complaint, anyone else who dared to try would meet their end at its maw. Once Fafnir found that its master's grip was secure it spread its wings and leapt into the sky. The very earth shook, the concrete cracked as the masses looked on in terror. The beast spared not one whit of thought for them, not at the start, nor by the end.

_______________________

Avance's son, Mourn of Mercury, stood in wonder at the scene. Just as he had prepared to leave the city his father had taken flight upon the back of the black dragon that he had ridden famously into battle so many times in the age before. The young lord then turned to face the five figures who had been his entourage until now.

"He acted just as you said he would." He muttered, feeling somewhat betrayed. Avance's mere existence, to the Sovereign of this city, their oh so unloved overlord, was an unspoken threat of sorts, a threat to not harm the City of Mercury. Now however it seemed that Avance had decided to snatch up Beatrix and then run as far away as he possibly could. This was all part of their predictions, that much he knew, but ultimately that did not stop it from hurting him to see it proven true. "So then, how do you lot plan on taking down my father?"

"That is our business, do not concern yourself with it," The man who led the five figures replied dismissively.

"Have it your way," Mourn said with a scoff.

"Having second thoughts?" The man asked in return.

"A wise man thinks twice before he acts, a wise fool thinks thrice...I am but a regular fool," Said Mourn. The young lord then turned to face his shrouded entourage and asked them what had long been on his mind, "Why do guys like you take orders from a child?"

"Lady Uriel is no child," Said the leader once again.

"Could've fooled me," Mourn replied. He could sense that the man before him was growing impatient but to him Uriel truly did appear as nothing more than a child playing the role of an adult. She did in fact have the body of an eleven to twelve year old, this was no falsehood.

"Though the body is that of a mere girl, the mind is not," Said the impatient leader of the five shrouded men.

"What do you mean?" Mourn asked in return.

"She has had the memories of her predecessors passed down directly to her. Uriel is not a name nor a title, it's an entity that has existed since before our group's inception." Mourn took a moment to process those casually spoken words. When the realisation of what the man meant came to him at last the boy then shot him a disgusted glare.

"So in other words Uriel really was once just a child but then you lot stuffed someone else's memories into her head and convinced her that they're the same person? Disgusting." With true contempt, Mourn glared towards the five men. He himself had chosen the path of rebellion, regicide and even patricide, he knew these were all evils but the point was he had chosen to walk this path. That vital point, the right to choose, for good or ill, was something sacred. The man before him however did not show even the slightest bit of concern for his, frankly irrelevant, opinion.

"Don't concern yourself with what has already been done," The leader said. For him the matter ended there, but not for Mourn. Indeed he did not intend to drop this, not at all, he felt that he couldn't afford to, for it crossed his bottom line as far as morals were concerned.

"Why was it necessary for you lot to use Jupiter? With your power can't you just go in, kill that woman and take the Beacon yourselves?" He asked them.

"We could," The leader answered, "but if she uses the Beacon to summon a god even we would hold little chance of escaping with our lives. This way Jupiter takes the fall if that happens."

"Quite the heartless bunch, aren't you?" Mourn said as he turned away from them, "In any case, my job's over, you just make sure you do your's, Metatron."

"Who do you think you're talking to?" Said the man named Metatron, who was the leader of this group of five, "I don't want to be called heartless by the man who just set up his own father's demise." With scorn he then parted ways with Mourn. The young Lord of Mercury stopped in place. He looked over his shoulder and glared at Metatron's back in silence. Only when the man vanished into the crowds did Mourn finally summon the mind to walk away.

Even he, a youth of seventeen, could understand clearly the weight of the decision he had made today. The Centurion Kingdom of tomorrow might well never be the same, but moreover, he would never not be a sinner.