(A/N: First-person view written in the context of something Dyrsun wrote before his defeat. It might not be completely accurate because I'm technically writing this before he's introduced in the actual story.)

I have a feeling my time in this world is coming to a close. My time as an underground leader has long passed. What I am now is a man of respect, stature, and power. How I could tell tales of all the places I've seen in search of my divided brethren!

We were set apart from each other for too long. It's been something close to fifteen years. They killed our god—SHE killed our god. HER god. The whole reason she existed was to bring Grima into this world and reign supreme over us, not to divide us forever with the Fell Dragon dead.

That is, at least, what Validar told me. I've never met his daughter—'Robin'—personally. And unless I'm driving my lance into her heart, watching the life fade from her eyes as she gives some pitiful cry, I don't plan to.

If I were to say that I don't have regrets, it would be a lie. My time among my soldiers may be almost over, but I believe I should have this written in paper, forever. Even if it's fate is to be burned at the hands of the Ylissians. Foul beasts.

I would like to confess, the road I have chosen is not easy. At this point, the entire continent thinks the Grimleal are just rubbish, idiots who think they're almighty. Ylisse hates us. Regna Ferox hates us. A majority of Plegia hates us. The only true Grimleal left are the ones I have under my command—some hundred soldiers, men and women alike. The rest of the Grimleal are Naga converts that are too pathetic to get rid of their title, instead deciding to tainting the meaning of 'Grimleal.' We are the children of Grima, the Fell Dragon, first and foremost. Anyone who says otherwise are fools that deserve whatever grim fate awaits them.

But that brings me to my opponents. This may seem like pointless rambling, I know. But it will be useful should I fall, I promise.

The people I'm fighting against…they're children. When I sent Loralis to send the message of war, I had expected an army. Thousands of soldiers armed to the teeth, ready to die for their kingdom. But instead, the exalt sends children? The eldest isn't even twenty years old—I've seen pictures of her, and I listen to the gossip that floats through the barracks. And the leader is one of the youngest. Surely they knew it would be a suicide mission? Something that they couldn't possibly do, not with barely twenty people in their army.

I do find it interesting, however, that they were accompanied by the man we were watching. Sources said that this…'Malin' had close ties to Robin. Familial relations—some rumors even claimed that they were mother and son. And while that must have been stretched from it's original telling, everything else held true. He was in Plegia for several years, asking for a woman named Keira. He wasn't very cautious in his search. But eventually he became harder to track. Once he joined forces with those brats, he was almost invisible to us. If I do survive this next battle, I would like to meet this man personally. I would like to ask him why Keira is so important to him.

But judging by the way he took down all those Grimleal that were watching him, I doubt I'd stand long enough to speak a word. I respect him, in a way—yes, he's a nuisance at present time by giving the children offensive and defensive support, but he can kill five men with a single blow if he so desired. If only he was on our side.

Overall, the enemy's strategies confounded me and my men. They defeated every battalion I sent their way—even when Loralis was the commander. I would say that we lost great men, but in truth, they couldn't have been that grand if they allowed themselves to be near the brink of death. It's pitiful. Grima deserves to see his children live victorious, rather than die shamefully.

In the end, we're imperfect, even compared to the god reverently referred to as the Fell Dragon. All of humanity fell; and Grima guided them. And even though we're fell beasts, we still deny the fact that we are who we are because of Grima? Every follower of every other god disgust me.

Those who oppose Grima deserve punishment. And though my body protests, my mind knows what I must do. I will fight, and win this war like I had planned. At any cost, I will not let my hard work be in vain.