“I remember,” he said, “when my father refused to let me join him in battle. I remember that humiliation, that anger. But Zabra … if I put you in, people will die. My soldiers. Your friends. However … this is your origin, your chance. You can storm away now and tell yourself my stupidity has prevented your heroism. “Or, you can make another choice. You can do as I’m asking, and you can run messages. Take the chance to learn your way around the military, see if there’s a spot for you. Probably not this battle, but maybe. Because every person I put on that field—messengers and medics alike—is a
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