Dominick lay on one of the arches extending off of the edge of one of Lucifer’s castles. He flipped through his notebook, eyes dashing across the pages, viewing the faces of the deceased. It made him feel remorseful, but it somehow grounded him, made him feel humane. He pulled his eyes away from his book of memories, and stared into the sky, letting out a sigh. He pondered over the things he’d heard from the other men of the army, [i] A round table treaty, I wonder what the higher-ups are thinking… Do they think it time that Lucifer should return to its former glory? [/i]

 Dominick had been raised in Lucifer, and his father had passed down stories from generations long past, tales of power, and wealth, where the might of Lucifer was truly undeniable, where Lucifer had stood at the top of the world. Whether what he had been told were tales of fiction or history he didn't care, he chose to believe them anyways. 

He looked down at his book, seeing his sister’s face dissipate, and reform into his father’s face. At that point he shut his book, and stood. He looked over the edge, then to a window a few feet away, debating on which route down he should take. [i]Strut through the castle like a king, or scale my way down?[/i] There was no competition. Just by a lowly warrior such as himself being up here was overstepping his boundaries, walking through the halls would grant him the same fate as the previous king; a good dethroning. He began to descend the side of the castle wall, hoping that nobody would spot him. “I knew coming up here was a stupid idea,” he muttered under his breath.