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... efense.
Boris looks at me like I just asked him to hold back the ocean with a tablecloth. "You want medieval siege tactics against starving beasts?"
"Your soldiers defend. That’s all they do tonight. The offense is mine. Build the wall."
Boris exhales. Drops his shoulders. Accepts. Not because he believes in the plan—because he bet on me when we mounted the Ferredons, and stopping now would mean admitting the bet was wrong.
We pass through the gates.
Boris ...
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