Outside his tall window, fifty cadets marched across the gravel parade ground under a cold morning sky.

“You realize what choosing combat arms means for an officer, Captain Mitchell,” General Vance said, taking off his wire-rimmed glasses to polish them with a square of blue silk.

“I’m fully prepared for the course standards, sir,” I said, keeping my chin level.

My thumb moved against my silver class ring, twisting the heavy metal around the joint once.

“I’m not talking about physical standards,” General Vance said.

He leaned back in his leather chair, holding his glasses up to the window light to check for smudges.