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The cold in Paletta went deep into the bones.
Kishiar stood by the window looking out at the dark. He wasn’t seeing the snow.
He was seeing a face from far away. A sharp face, with black hair and serious purple eyes.
Yudrain. The Commander now.
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine…
It was a soft song in his head. It made him think of Yudrain. Not the commander everyone feared, but the quiet man he knew.
He remembered finding Yudrain. So dedicated, so sure. But not good with people.
Yudrain was honest. Too honest.
He made the Cavalry better, stronger, safer. But he made the members angry. They thought he was cold. A bully.
They did not see what Kishiar saw.
They saw a stone wall.
Kishiar saw the fortress inside.
You make me happy when skies are grey…
Kishiar loved him. It was his biggest secret.
His broken body, shattered once, then broken again by the Red Stone— was a constant reminder that he was dying. Slowly.
And his biggest fear was not death. It was what would happen to Yudrain after.
The Cavalry that Yudrain would die for was the same Cavalry that hated him.
Without Kishiar to stand between them, to soften Yudrain's orders with a smile, they would turn on him and let him fall.
You'll never know, dear, how much I love you…
So Kishiar did the only thing he could think to do. He made Yudrain the Commander.
It seemed like a cruel gift. But it was an armor.
To destroy him was to destroy the Cavalry.
The title was a shield. The best one Kishiar could give.
Please don't take my sunshine away…
He left for the north. He gave his sunshine the highest seat. In a nest of knives. Hoping the knives would be too careful to cut their own throne.
A cough shook him. He moved to the bed, the sheets cold.
He woke up, shivering.
The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping… I dreamed I held you in my arms…
In his dreams, he was still there. Yudrain and him in the quiet of the quarter. A shared conversation over the board game. A small moments no one else saw.
He remembered the appointment day. It had not been held in the Cavalry yard but instead in a grand hall.
It was filled mostly with nobles in fine clothes. Their faces polite and empty.
They did not know Yudrain.
They only saw a powerful new tool for the Emperor.
Yudrain stood straight before them. No cheers from nobles or soldiers. Only the dry sound of official words and light, meaningless applause.
Kishiar had felt fear then, sharp as ice. Not fear that Yuder would fail. Fear that he would succeed while completely alone, with no one at his back who cared for him.
When I awoke, dear, I was mistaken… So I hung my head and I cried…
A sob, dry and wrenching, escaped him.
Then another.
He wept for the terrible burden he had placed on the one he loved most.
Then the crying stopped. The room was quiet and grey with early light.
Soon, he would get up.
The Duke of Paletta would smile and talk about the weather. Act like his heart and body wasn’t breaking.
He hoped Yuder would never understand.
That was the final, sad wish.
For Yuder to never know how much he was loved.