August 28, Year 1473 in the year of Glabados

My life had been shattered at the hands of one egotistic priest by the name of Charles Buremonda.

He had cursed away my beloved to a form…shall we say, unfit for human sight…or at least, that's what she thinks. Reis. My beloved. Now a dragon. Yes, a dragon. I had ripped off one of his hands as soon as he completed the curse…I had arrived too late to save my fiancé.

I don't know if the curse was reversible…I surely hope so. He's used a holy stone to cause that spell…that evil bastard! Most Templars of Lionel know that using those dreaded stones amplify magical attacks almost hundredfold. And that fool, Buremonda…I am not exactly certain if he meant to transform Reis permanently again or not; however, under any circumstances…he should know not to use that stone.

I witnessed it happen. Reis' transformation. Her human form was totally obliterated. Obliterated. Nothing left of it whatsoever. Her long, thick sheets of blonde hair, the usual identifying feature of Reis…none of that left, not even a strand. And her finely-chiseled features upon creamy, soft skin…none of that either. He had totally destroyed her human form, flesh, skin, bones and all. Instead he leaves this dragon, purple in complexion of scales, crested with spikes of darkest ebony, and eyes of crimson. The exact opposite of what Reis was before—she was beautiful and graceful, now reduced to an ungainly and hideous beast. But whatever happens, I shall be with her. I shall be with her through life, as in death, not to be separated by anything in the universe itself. Even if she is a dragon, she is still my Reis. MY Reis. Nobody else's. Nobody shall touch a single scale on her while I am still alive. If only she was still around me. In her shame of having such a form, she had fled Lionel for a place I would never know exactly where.

I had been faced with trial for my defense of Reis. Buremonda has accused me of attempted murder—lies! He had virtually murdered Reis…and he wasn't charged. I would hang myself for not defending her if I had a rope handy—and maybe Buremonda too, if I could get hold of him, but no! He's got his priests and he's turned my previously-loyal subordinates against me.

Yes, I've got subordinates. I've risen to the rank of Commander in the short period of time that I have been with the Lionel Temple Knights. Scoundrels all, for having shown me a false face of loyalty. When I am reinstated, they shall fear my name as I petrify each of them in turn…

No chance of that now. Buremonda has virtually ensured that I will never return to any city in Ivalice. He's done the unforgivable accusation—and blast that Cardinal for going along with him! He's branded me a heretic—and I'm supposed to be hunting heretics; therefore I've got to kill myself if I were to keep my job. I would have thoroughly earned it…I've lost Reis—no, I've failed her. I've failed to defend her against that spell, for whatever it would do to me is better than the fate that Reis faces now. I would gladly exchange places with Reis—so that she can lead a full, happy life, and I a subservient dragon. I care not how I look—I'm now disheveled, dirty, with a threadbare jacket of animal skins; Reis' memoirs and belongings I carry with me, and that also includes the armour and sword she had made for me months ago.

Money I carry little of; that is, my own money. Reis had been kind enough to leave me three and a half hundred thousand gil, enough for me to seek her, however long it will take me. To the ends of the world I shall search for her, for my heart's yearning to see her face is greater than the bounds of the sky. Even if I only see her for a second at the moment of my death would be a welcome relief.

Through hills and barren valleys I have ventured as of last month; not a single sign of Reis I have found, except for rather heavy dragon-claw shaped footprints in wet mud three days ago. Of course, they could be any dragon's tracks, not necessarily Reis's. I have sustained myself by hunting wild creatures for their hides and parts—a practice that I have loathed to do since I was small. But because no part of civilised Ivalice will take me in now, this is the only thing I can do while I search for any trace of my love.

Ink and parchment that I have used to write this note of lament I have extracted from the wilderness; the ink I have taken from a squidlarkin that I have slain, and parchment I took from a dead panther that I skinned and tanned. Fighting them off is difficult, even for a templar like me—it is not fair when I am outnumbered five to one, and all the worse when I am in an open field. The only thought giving me energy, boosting my stamina as I fight is the single idea that Reis is out there somewhere, looking for me, as I look for her. Miles I will have to cover; that does not matter, for I have as many years in life as I have to look for her. Mountains I will have to scale; that matters not either, for I have enough endurance to climb it as she has endurance to survive. Rivers and seas I will cross, just as she has to cross oceans of fear and oppression. We are destined to one life, one death, and one ultimate fate.

Whatever happens, Reis, I will be there for you. I will seek you. I will love you still, be you a dragon or restored to a woman of my dreams. Years or days, weeks or months, I will continue to look for you, in the hopes of loving you in the way I did before. Love by itself is not a good enough repayment for you, my Reis; if you ever find this note, let it be a reminder that I am there, ready to sacrifice my life for your need or even at your whim if you wish me to.

I am uncertain if this you will ever see,

But let I say all the same,

I love you, Reis Dular, for the better or worse.

Through life, as in death, I will love you.

Beowulf Kadmus