I grew up among the Varden in Surda. How pathetic they were; so utterly futile. With their swords, and their spears and their shining armor they thought they could challenge the might of an Empire! As did I, at the time. We were valiant knights for justice! Fighting against oppression in the name of freedom! For a free Alagaësia! Yet, these were lies! Lies that killed my family. Lies that killed my friends. Lies, that turned my brother from my side and made him nothing less than a monster! These lies, this propaganda, can have only one source! A single source from which all cunning and deceit creeps; seeking to despoil, to destroy, and to devour; to devour the hearts of men! To make us, the people of this world, fight it's petty wars. To make us, the soldiers, struggle towards impossible goals! To make us, those who are eternally ground into the dirt under the heel of the oppressor's boot, die on the very streets built for our benefit! This source, is magic.
At age 16 my brother became a dragon rider. Back then I simply viewed him as lazy. Magic makes men weak. Weak of strength, weak of heart, and weak of mind! Though, at the same time, I was happy for him as he was achieving his dreams. My dreams, however, laid down a different path. I joined the Varden military and fought five long years of resistance. Five hard years in which I learned the true face of war. Those on the ground, doing the fighting, were nothing less than fodder. Before the might of magic we were as straw to a scythe and, to both sides, meant no more than the gravel crunching beneath their feet. Men, good men, died in droves at their command and what did we accomplish? Nothing. These magicians, in their cliques and cabals, cults and circles, claim to fight for you! They claim to fight, for me! They claim that they will uphold high-minded ideals like freedom. Some even talk of democracy! Some, are here with us pretending to be on our side! But I don't buy that! The only side they tend to be on is their own! How do I know this? Why do I have these convictions? Because I witnessed their attack upon my own home! They knew of my rebellious thoughts; of my potential treason. So, they acted swiftly and without mercy. When I called to my brother for assistance it was already clear that he would not join me in the defense of my home. He cared too much for himself, for his own dragon. More than for his very family! And so, they all burned for his disgusting show of selfishness. I thought I'd never see his revolting face again. Unfortunately, I was wrong.
After this tragedy perpetrated by none other than my former allies I knew it was time to leave. I had fought their wars for long enough and now it was about time that I fought my own. Thus, I left for the Empire and joined the forces I once fought so strongly against. I ascended the ranks, waiting to tell my story; to begin the true fight. A fight against magic, for the people of Alagaësia! I wait still, for the right moment, and when the right time comes I will strike. Where? At magic's foul heart.