⏱ ~5 min reading
In the kingdom above the silver river lived the knight Vladimir. Tall, with calm eyes the color of the sky before a summer thunderstorm. He had a white horse, Cloud, a heavy sword in its scabbard, and armor. But his armor was not like the others.
All the knights of the kingdom wore red or silver. Red — like the banner of victory. Silver — like the glory of knighthood. Vladimir wore blue. Dark blue, like the sky before sleep. In some places — lighter, like the morning sky. On his chest was engraved a wave, like a river. And on his helmet — a small star of white metal.
As he drove through the city streets, people turned around. Small children pointed with their fingers:
— Mom, look, the blue knight!
And the other knights shrugged their shoulders.
“Why are you so unusual, Volodymyr?” the senior knight Bohdan, in red armor, once asked him.
“Because blue is the color of the sky and the sea,” Volodymyr replied calmly. “I defend beauty.”.
Bogdan laughed until the iron clanked.
— Beauty? Knights protect the crown. The land. Victories. And beauty is for artists.
"Maybe," Volodymyr said softly. "But someone has to protect her. Otherwise she'll disappear.".
Bogdan waved his hand and left for the tournament. And Volodymyr went on his usual tour of the kingdom.
He didn't go where others went. Others went to the border, or to a tournament, or on a hike. Volodymyr appeared where no one expected.
One day he saw older boys breaking a rose bush in the city garden. Vladimir stopped his horse. He quietly dismounted. He approached.
— What are you guys doing?
They froze - a blue knight on a white horse, helmet shining, sword in scabbard.
"But we... we just..." they muttered.
"This is someone's garden," Volodymyr said calmly. "Someone planted it. Someone watered it. Someone is waiting for the roses to bloom. And you are breaking them. Come on, I'll show you how to tie up the bushes.".
The guys were at first confused, and then they shyly helped. Volodymyr showed how to carefully hold the twig, how to tie it to a stick with a rope. The guys left - different than when they arrived.
Another time he saw the woodcutter already swinging his axe over the old lime tree in the yard, a tree in whose hollow woodpeckers and squirrels lived. The sun was shining through the broad leaves, and round golden spots lay on the ground beneath the lime tree.
"Wait, man," said Volodymyr. "Don't cut.".
"But it's old! Where can I get it? The branches are dry. The shadow is too thick. It drowns out the garden.".
"And I will bring you firewood," said the knight. "From the Windbreak Forest. As much as you need. And let this tree stand. In it is a whole little kingdom. Listen.".
They fell silent. And indeed, from above, one could hear the tapping of a woodpecker, the rustling of squirrel paws, and the soft chirping of sparrows in the depths of the leaves.
The woodcutter lowered his axe. Volodymyr brought firewood—two cartloads full, heavy, well-chopped. The linden tree remained. The woodpeckers continued to knock on it. And in the evening, the woodcutter's children climbed onto the branch and ate a box of crackers tied with a rope.
And one night, the knight was riding through the village and heard a baby crying in a hut, and a tired young mother singing, almost falling asleep. Vladimir tied his horse and knocked softly on the door.
"I am Knight Vladimir," he said in a whisper. "Let me rock the baby. And you lie down for an hour.".
Mother didn't believe it at first. But her eyes grew glazed. She trusted him. Volodymyr took off his heavy helmet, put his sword by the threshold. He sat down by the cradle. He rocked it with a careful finger and hummed softly. He didn't know where he had learned the lullabies. He simply remembered his mother's voice from his childhood.
The baby fell asleep. The mother, too, was at the table, her head resting on her hands. Volodymyr sat a little longer, quietly got out, got on Khmarka, and drove on.
People started talking about the blue knight. In different ways. Some with respect, some with a smile. And the children — with admiration.
Once the king himself came to Vladimir.
"Volodymyr," he said. "I look at you and think. You haven't done a single feat on the battlefield. But the kingdom seems to have become softer. More gentle. How is that?"
"I think, Your Majesty," replied Vladimir, "that we must protect not only the border. But also that which blooms. That which sings. That which breathes. A tree. A flower. A child's dream. The color of the sky.".
The king was silent for a long time. Then he said:
— I understand.
A year later, many young knights changed their armor. One - to green, because he took care of the forest. The second - to gold, because he protected the grain fields. The third - to silver-lilac, because he took care of musicians and artists. Each found his own beauty. Each took it under his cloak.
Thus, knights-gardeners, knights-musicians, knights-artists, and knights of children's dreams appeared in the kingdom.
And Vladimir rode on his Cloud. His banner was blue with a star. His sword lay in its scabbard—he had only drawn it once in all that time, and even then—to help a peasant chop down an old stump. Cloud clattered his hooves on the cobblestones, and on the castle towers fluttered multi-colored banners—blue, green, gold, and lilac. Each banner followed a knight. Each knight followed his treasure.
When Volodymyr entered the city gates, small children ran to meet him, holding wildflowers in their hands—cornflowers, daisies, poppies. He leaned down from his saddle and carefully picked one at a time. He folded the bouquet and placed it on his lap. Khmarko snorted approvingly.
Because true chivalric strength is not a blow. It is a careful, firm love for what is worth protecting.
✨ Chivalry is the love of what is worth protecting; color is also a message ✨