Ever since the revelation at the Holy Tomb, Dimitri had been unrecognizable. The calm, noble prince was gone, replaced by a man driven by vengeance, haunted by whispers and ghosts only he could hear. He spoke little now, save for mutterings about Edelgard and the retribution he would rain upon her.

But you understood him. More than anyone else, you felt what he felt. The rage. The grief. The hollow ache left in Duscur's wake.

If Edelgard was the root of it all, then there was no forgiveness to be given. She was the enemy. And so long as Dimitri sought vengeance, you would follow him into the fire. His enemies were yours.

He didn’t look at anyone often anymore, lost in his own fury. But before the battle against the Imperial Army started, he turned and met your eyes.

"Make no mistake. Edelgard will fall by my hand, and my hand alone."