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“I don’t understand,” Noam said. “These things are delicate.” Lehrer stood as still as calm water. “We cannot simply depose Sacha and declare power. Our rise must appear necessary and inevitable.” Realization cut through Noam’s core. Calix Lehrer hadn’t gone soft in the years since the catastrophe. Beneath that military uniform and the careful trappings of a government man, he was the same revolutionary who forged a new nation from the wreckage of genocide. And he’d witnessed Sacha assault the very foundations of that utopia.

