Keith closed his fists. “The prime minister will repress the anarchists with more strength. The repression will crush everyone. You’ll never win.”

Mr. Sharpe shook his head. “The message will be delivered, and they will listen.”

“Mr. Sharpe?—”

“I will not let more people die in a senseless war because those ancient barons are greedy. The sun never sets on the empire, they say. For how long shall we expand? What will we do when there are no more lands to conquer? How many soldiers have to bleed to satisfy these monsters’ appetite? No more. Enough.” Breathing heavily, he stepped closer to Keith. “The only question that remains is what areyougoing to do now? I love you like a son, Keith. Don’t stand between my battle and me. You’re going to get crushed.”

“I can’t let you kill innocents. There will be orphans like me. Never. I can’t.” His voice broke with sheer fear and determination. He was angry for his mother, the people who had died in senseless acts of violence, and he was angry for having been betrayed by the only man he’d ever considered a father.

Deep lines of worry marked Mr. Sharpe’s brow. “Then I’m really sorry, Keith.”

The blow in the head was the last thing Keith felt before his eyes closed.