PeaceMaker

His hand removed the stamp smoothly, a process that was already embedded into his head from hours of removing stamps off envelopes of information and then restamping them. 

Despite him having done it multiple times though, he was nervous. His hand stopped right after they lifted the envelope's little cover and slid the letter out of it. He stared at the paper and the ink that reflected slightly on its sheet. 

He was hesitating. 

'Why?'

He reached for the paper and then paused again, his heart thumping loudly in his chest. 'Just open the damn letter already!' he thought to himself but yet his hand trembled. After another minute of staring at the letter, he finally picked it up and slowly lifted the folded parts. His eyes froze when he say the smooth cursive but then continued reading. 

"Dear Princely Temp," it read, "My name is Axel Lewis and I am sending this letter to report to you of the recent events of the battle."

Boris stopped reading again before sucking in a deep breath and continuing. 

"As previously reported, we won the war. Thanks to the constant reinforcements from you, the Princely Temp, and the guidance of his highness himself, we defeated the opposing country. This however caused a huge setback on the troops as multiple thousands were killed and many more were injured severely. His highness himself suffered a few injuries-" Boris paused, his eyes freezing at the word injuries. He continued reading. 

"-but not to worry, he was taken care of correctly and restored to his graceful state We went into a few weeks with dwindling supplies, and soon, after a few days of cleaning up the battlefield, some soldiers realized that there was a village somewhat near the camp."

Boris leaned back into the seat and continued reading. 'A village?' he thought to himself as he read the next lines. 

"I, myself, did not follow them to the village as the work for the physicians was stacked high as the numbers of deaths and injuries were high as well. But I did get a report of what happened in the village that I will now relay to you. It seems that it was a nearly abandoned village with barely any people in it, but there they had met a girl around her teen ages that ever so rudely approached his highness with a fierce approach."

'A girl?' Boris thought to himself, 'from the village?'

"This girl, after falsely accusing his highness of being a tax collector, volunteered herself to be taken in place of money for the village."

'Huh-' Boris froze at those words, leaning forward from his seat with a perplexed expression on his face. 

"The girl, after being told that his highness was not a tax collector, still insisted to be carried away, and on the count that she was informed that he was not taking her away from her village to do her any harm, she was taken from the village into the camp. After some questioning, she was identified as Desilva Milti."

Boris gazed at her name for a moment, his eyes running over it for a moment, an expression crossing his face. His lips pursed against each other as he continued reading. 

"Desilva Milti was given the chance to have an alliance with this kingdom to which she agreed. In the days following, her village was slowly integrated into our camp and Desilva Milti became the link between her village and the kingdom. A few days into her stay, his highness was approached by Desilva's mother who after giving his highness shots of distrust and anger, walked away with Desilva."

Boris' eyes dimmed slightly.

"His highness returned to his tent after that to rest but was soon followed by a terrifying incident that befalls on him."

Boris flinched, his hand clenching the ends of the paper in fear. "What?"

"After awakening from his sleep, his highness was struck by a wave of pain due to the build-up of all he had faced during the battle that his body hadn't gotten the chance to intake. In this great fit of pain, he screamed out in agony for all to hear and I came running from my tent to his words. The entire camp itself was deeply shaken by his cries of pain and upon walking into the room, I was struck with such a disastrous scene. His highness was laying on the ground, screaming out as his body shook violently and he began to hyperventilate."

"No…." Boris muttered, his eyes growing bigger in fear as he continued to read. 

"The best physicians we had available, including me rushed towards him to help him. We tried to get him to calm down but his highness continued to toss around and bellow in agony, we were all deeply concerned and perplexed by this but continued to try and calm him down. Unfortunately, we didn't-"

The line was broken off. Incomplete, a stroke of paint that was cut off abruptly in mid-sentence. And alike in Boris, a stroke of hope was broken. 

He froze, staring at the paper for a moment, unable to understand what was going on. The letter itself was not finished. 

He flipped the paper over and searched the back and front, leaning in to check for any lines that were written so tiny he wouldn't notice. There was nothing. Nothing at all on the paper, just the unfinished stroke in a sentence that dropped a huge rock on Boris. His heart clenched as he desperately continued to check for the continuation of the sentence. 

He dropped the letter and ripped open the envelope in search then brought it close to his eyes to check for any other writing. Nothing.

He flipped the envelope upside down and checked that way. Nothing. He checked the back, scanning every single dust mark that could possibly indicate some additional writing. Nothing. He turned the letter itself upside down in search of more. Nothing.

The paper fell from his hand and he looked down at the letter, his eyes running over the last sentence and the sentence before. "Unfortunately we didn't-" it read. 'Unfortunately, we didn't, Unfortunately, we didn't, Unfortunately, we didn't, UNFORTUNATELY, YOU DIDN'T WHAT?!' he thought to himself, his hand slamming into the table in frustration.

His heart dropped to the ground as his eyebrows furrowed, his one dull eyes heightened into bright gold. Alarmed, terrified, perplexed. 

Scared. 

There was nothing more. There was nothing more?

He reread the letter once again, hoping he had somehow interpreted one of the sentences incorrectly and there was something that could indicate that maybe that last sentence was referring to something else. 

He finished the letter once more and leaned back in his hair, the latter falling through his hand to the table. It was referring to that moment. It was referring to that incident, it was referring to his highness.

It was referring to Dominic. 

His hand trembled as he brought it up to his face, covering his eyes as he shut them tightly, the words on the letter still showing in his head. "No…" he muttered slightly with a trembling voice, "n-no…"

His golden eyes opened and through the slits between his fingers, he gazed down at the letter and the torn envelope. There was nothing. That was it. An unfinished letter that left off on something that only led to one assumption. D- the word couldn't even leave his mind. He wouldn't let it do so. Because it wasn't, it could never be. 

It will never be that word. 

He leaned forward, his elbow rested on the table as he gazed down at the last words on the letter. 

"Unfortunately we didn't-" he read out loud, "unfortunately what? WHAT HAPPENED DAMMIT?!" he yelled, his fist slamming into the table, and on his face laid a crestfallen expression. 

He stood up from the chair and began to pace back and forth in fear, the words repeating in his mind. "Unfortunately?" he muttered, "unfortunately we didn't come in with the right supplies and sent some people to get them immediately?" he continued. 'And when we arrived, it was too late…' the sentence completed itself in his mind.

He froze and then remade another expression in his head. "Unfortunately, we didn't calm him down on time and he ended up hurting one of our members but soon later we were able to help him?" he muttered. 'A few days later, however, he was overwhelmed in his last battle?' the sentence completed in his mind. 

He shuddered, his throat clamming up. 

Every sentence he was forming only seemed to have a wrong ending. Every way he could complete that sentence didn't seem to go right. Like his mind was trying to sabotage him, like it was trying to make him miserable… like it was trying to ruin him. 

Like it was trying to be realistic...

'No. It couldn't be. It wouldn't be. It will never be,' Boris thought to himself as he squatted down on the ground.. 'So why…' a tear rolled down his cheeks. 'Why did it hurt?'