PeaceMaker

MONTHS BEFORE 

Boris sat down on Dominic's chair, and like all the days before, swiveled around to face the kingdom's sights. A wide blue sky dotted with light clouds, long streets down before that stretched out in channels, and tiny dots of people shuffling about and going about their daily schedules. 

He looked up at the sigh and let out a long sigh, it was another long day for him. Just like the others before this and the more to come.

After staring for a few minutes, he sucked in a deep breath and turned back to the table to the pile of work that sat before him in a heavy pile and the long and thin quill that sat in the corner. It was funny how he was supposed to use such a weak pen to complete all of that work but every time he used the pen, it reminded him of himself. A person from the streets amongst those trained for royalty. 

He didn't know how they do it. Day by day, night by night, burning their heads in work and only getting to indulge in conversations with people at meetings. But then again, he was well aware that this was not the life of many of the nobility out there, but it was for the one that sat in this chair, the Prince, Dominic Aarvi. 

Boris pulled the ink bottle beside the quill closer before picking up the quill beside it and glanced down at the pile of work. He lowered his head in exhaustion and battled his internal thoughts to just throw up all the paper in the air and laugh hysterically. 

He was well aware that all of this would be due in a few hours and he wasn't sure what punishment would befall him if Kalmin were to walk in on this. He just might spend the whole day outside clutching a hefty sword. Not that that was any punishment to him, swords were light feathers in his hands, no matter the weight. But he still didn't want to risk it as sword training and physical activities wasn't the only punishment Kalmin could give, he was sure that somewhere in the palace or even in the long cabinets of Kalmin's room itself were piles of work he wished to never see the light. 

He took another second, then two, and then a minute before turning back to the papers and picking up the quill and dropping it into the ink, then picking up his first assignment for the afternoon and began to write. 

Write and write and write and more writing. He was well into 30 minutes of writing when he heard light pattering from behind the door. Footsteps nearing the office. They were quick and frantic, like the person was running for their life almost as they barreled towards the double doors of Dominic's office. 

Boris stood up from his seat and walked towards the double doors, shuffling to a long sheathed object that hung on the edge of the left side of the room's corner by a shelf connected to one wall, stretching over the corner and onto the other wall. Then he ran to the door with his quiet but fast steps and then standing a few feet back, his hand perched on the hilt of the sheathed sword and waited patiently for the doors to burst open. 

His hand gripped the hilt as the steps got louder and harder, feet slapping against the palace ground making a sharp thud on the ground. If they were unlucky, they would run right in and into Boris' sword's blade, cutting their own neck off without any work from him, but if they were lucky, they would stop just long enough for him to identify them after they would tumble into the room. 

Nonetheless, Boris stood guard over the entrance protectively, his heart beating calmly in his chest. He was always on guard now whenever he heard quick feet approaching the doors. He could never be too careful as it had only been a month or two from when he was attacked in this very room and this sword in his hands had saved him by just hanging on its shelf in the room. 

Boris switched his stance as the footsteps were at their peak sound now, right before the door. He waited for one second as everything seemed to slow down in his vision, the door being pushed out slowly and a body running in with an exasperated expression on their face mixed with panic and… excitement. They glanced at Boris and then lowered their eyes to the sword and almost immediately pressed the brakes on their feet and in Boris' eyes, time continued its flow. 

His hand pulled out the sword and swung it in the direction of the person, stopping abruptly, just at the person's neck. He peered down at the body that froze at the sword, trembling in fear. 

"What is it? Who are you?" Boris pressed, his gaze hauntingly peering down at the person surrendered at the tip of his sword pressed to their neck. "Speak now." 

"I-I am S-Spenser, your honor," the person sputtered, falling to their knees as they begged for mercy with their hands. "P-Please spare me, your honor, I simply came to tell you news."

Boris tilted his head to the right as he glared down at Spenser. "Which is?"

Spener's head fell and pressed into the ground randomly, and then erratically sped back up to look at Boris, almost cutting himself on Boris' sword. "HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS HAS RETURNED FROM THE WAR!!! HE HAS RETURNED!!" 

Bors flinched, grabbing the person by the neck and dragging them up to his eyes. "YOU'RE SERIOUS?! NOT ANOTHER WRONG CALL?!" he yelled, his eyes glowing with excitement and anxiety along with impatience as his hands trembled. 

"YES, YOUR HONOR!! HE HAS RETURNED!" 

Boris dropped the person and ran out of the room, sheathing his sword as he ran and pushing it into the sword slip he always had at his hip. He dashed down the hallways, sprinting past the running staff members of the palace as they moved frantically to ready the palace for the prince's return. He kept darting down the hallways, so quickly that his feet barely touched the floor of the palace for a fifth of a second before picking up again and continuing down the hallway. 

On a rough turn, his shoulder slammed into the walls of the palace, almost knocking down a painting on the wall but he pressed forward, picking himself up, and ran out of the entrance into the stables, rushing to a random horse and letting it go free before mounting it's back and kicking its side for movement. Together, they galloped down the right side of the palace, past the palace civilians, and into the royal garden in front of the palace. Quickly, they ran on the cobbled ground of the garden paths, stomping down any flowers in their path to immediate death. Behind Boris, he could hear the steps of distance horses following after him. He kicked the horse again, urging it to go faster. 

"OPEN THE PALACE GATES!" Boris yelled to the guards that guarded the gates about 6 yards and they began to pull back the doors, barely having them open in time for Boris to whiz past, into the streets of the inner wall, and nearly running over a nobleman on his leisure walk. He had to get there on time, he had to get there on time, those were the only words in his head as he sped through the streets. 

BACK TO THE PRESENT

He was once again upon the back of a horse, galloping at an intense speed through the streets of the inner wall, people rushing after on their own horses right behind him, yards behind as Boris had dashed out of the palace faster than any of them. But instead of all of them rushing to the outer wall, this time, most were going to stop at the inner wall while Boris and some other knights would continue to the outer wall to reach the gates, a flare in their hands to signal to the others. Green for Dominic's appearance, red for no person, and both for his appearance and a whole army behind them.

Boris felt the flares rattle in his jacket as he bolted through the inner walls and into the outer walls of the kingdom. He heard the alarmed screams of some people scampering out of the way of Boris' rush, avoiding their deaths. He was in no mental condition to consider their appearances and judging by the crazed fire in his eyes, they were sure he couldn't even see them.

'What will I do when I see him?' Boris thought to himself as he passed by a couple of ramshackles, pressing forth for the last wall, the wall of the outer kingdom. Sweat trickled down his forehead, grabbing onto his head for their dear life before slipping off his face and into the air. 'What will we say to each other? How will he look at me? How is he? Will he be missing a leg? An eye? Will he be sickly thin and barely sitting on his horse or standing on a carriage? Is he ok? Did the army survive? Did they bring some people over from the village?' thoughts spiraled in his head at almost the same speed as he galloped towards them.

*

After about 8 hours of full-speed galloping and breaks, they were 10,000 yards from the outer wall and Boris squinted his eyes and turned the horse, redirecting it to run up a hill instead of towards the actual gates. Boris' heart thumped hard in his chest as his horse galloped to the top of the hill and after nearly, running itself off, stabilizing Boris and itself and allowing him to see over the remaining land. 

He looked over the expanse of the kingdom before peering at the outer wall and the long miles of land behind it. Slowly his eyes directed themselves towards the gates of the outer wall and he pulled out the binoculars from his pocket, raising them up to his eyes and looking through them. His heart did a flip in its cages and fell to the ground like the binoculars slipped out of Boris' hands, as he hurriedly reached for his pockets and pulled out the flares, pointing them at the sky.. And with a wide, trembling smile on his face, he set them both off. "HE'S BACK!!!"