Shinomi didn't sleep that night.
He sat by the low-burning fire in his tent, gaze fixed on the flame, but his mind was somewhere else entirely—lost in the soft flutter of hair, the delicate curve of a cheek, the defiance laced in a servant's voice.
Aiden.
No—Ren Valis's son. That was the name the boy carried.
But the Ren Shinomi remembered from court visits had been loud. Arrogant. A spoiled brat with sharp shoes and a sharper tongue. Always chasing power, mimicking his warlord father.
The boy now… felt like a different person.
Graceful. Thoughtful. Quietly magnetic.
Why the change?
The commander didn't believe in mysteries. Everything had a cause. Everything had a pattern.
So he sent a message before dawn.
By midday, his most trusted informant had returned. A woman cloaked in black, eyes sharp as a falcon.
"You were right," she said, placing a sealed scroll on his table. "The boy's history is strange. I gathered what I could."
Shinomi opened it and read silently.
> Ren Valis, youngest son of Duke Renald.
Age 18.
Known for his temper and vanity after age 13.
Prior to that: reports from former staff describe a sweet, gentle child. Wore soft colors. Played with dolls. Often seen imitating his sister, Lady Reilene. Some say he spoke like a princess.
Change occurred after the Duke began introducing him to foreign courts and potential alliances. There was a clear shift in behavior—more aggressive, prideful, mocking.
Recent behavior, however, indicates a return to former self. A softness. The ribbon is new. So is the long hair.
Possible cause: rivalry with Crown Princess Celestia.
Celestia has visited the camp more frequently. Reportedly displeased with Commander Shinomi's attention drifting elsewhere.
Shinomi's hand tightened on the scroll.
So… the real Ren had always been delicate. Kind. Like a flame crushed under a heavy hand, now flickering back to life.
And it had nothing to do with tactics or court games.
It was simply… who he was.
Shinomi let out a slow breath.
He remembered the way Aiden had stood his ground. How his lips pressed into a quiet line when scolded. How he glowed, not like a candle—but like something dangerous wrapped in silk.
He wasn't weak.
He was just beautiful in a way Shinomi didn't know how to touch.
And Celestia—always playing her games—had noticed it, too.
He folded the scroll.
Then burned it in the flame.
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