The man whose banners I follow... I have come to believe in him utterly, in his vision and in his ambition. Under his command, the armies of the Empire advance relentlessly, driven by a mysterious power that I can scarcely comprehend. I have seen the strength and unwavering resolve of the French soldiers. Their endurance is the subject of whispered legends, spoken of with equal parts awe and fear. Many say there is something beyond ordinary discipline that guides their victories, and I am probably the best proof that it must be true.
They say he is a man of remarkable intellect and iron determination, rarely showing doubt before friend or foe. And yet, I have also seen the fatherly care he shows toward his soldiers, a rare kindness that earns him their fierce and unquestioning loyalty. I cannot help but wonder... How does it feel to inspire such devotion? And what place do I hold in a world governed by such a man?