The justice calling's answer — the elite exam's highest grade, then the island war nobody planned: drill turned real, honors earned, the class of two. The vow taken once — never fear for my own life again — the coldest sentence I own, the warmest under it. Five senses kept keen; the plunge belongs to whoever plunges, the read to me. The pug outranks all. The mirror keeps the cold face honest; the fire keeps its mercy — plate scorches, men run. The count's seven; the cadet column is mine.