The day breaks over our camp. I haven t slept, worried about the battle to come tomorrow. I should be calm, as I was trained to be. You are a warrior. I still hear master s words, ringing in my ear. But still I fear for my life. Follow the way of the Wyvern, and it will not let you fall.
The sun is out, the camp stirs. Out goes the night s fire. We get ready for battle, arming ourselves. I pick up my lance and put on my armor. The armor of the Dragoon. I take a calming breath and mount my chocobo. The scout alarms the camp the enemy approaches. The Commander readies the men, we begin our charge.
Swords clash, archers open fire, men fall and men die. I can feel myself plunge the lance in, but is it me behind it or am I the one in front? I cannot see, but yet I can. I see myself killing the enemy in the name of those too rich to bloody there hands, no, they watch as we there pawns kill and are killed in the fight. Tell me, why should they care what happens to us, we, all of us are disposable to the aristocracy of warlords, nobles, and royalty. But I, I am below even warriors born of nobility. You low born scum, you will never see the fine art of battle. My past comes back to haunt me, as does my anger. In blind rage, not at the enemy, but everything the enemy stands for, and everything we stand for, all of it feeds my anger together, I attack. Raged at the life I live and at the life given to me by forces who consider themselves higher than even the great Father himself.
I will survive. I will survive to see the day of Aristocracy s fall, the day the men, women and children, highborn and low can live together without unrest, all together under the almighty Father, free for war, free from hate, free from anger, free to live life the way I choose.
I am a warrior, but I do not fight for those born with money. I fight for all of the lowborn and the oppressed. I am a warrior, hope for those whose hope was taken from them. I am warrior, a fighter with the blood of low birth. I fight against those who said that only those with war in there blood can fight. I fight against a power that believes it is greater than me, but I am great. I do not fight not there war, but my own.
Today s battle is won, the sun sets, night falls. We return to camp, count our loses, burn the night s fire once again, and prepare for tomorrows fight. Again I lay awake, not in fear, but in resolve. I lay awake waiting for tomorrow, and again I pray for my continued protection, and for again for my life. The day breaks over camp. I am ready for the day.