A Ghost's Wish [MxM]

3. A Ghost's Parade

Although Oliver was in a cage and exposed to the cold environment, he felt a sense of exhilaration as he passed through the borders of Bierze.  During these thirty years, he had traveled on the outskirts of Bierze and ventured into the mountains in the north, just touching his homeland in Wynter.  But he had not seen the capital this entire time. 

But it wasn't as beautiful as he remembered.  The lands were ravaged by drought and famine. The lush green woodlands and scenery had turned to dry and dead lands. The people who lived in the villages no longer had smiles. Instead, their faces reflected suffering.

Oliver turned towards one of the guards. "I don't understand... this was all farmland, and the borders were protected... Our defenses have never fallen, and the battles have never touched Bierze."

The guard he asked said nothing but looked ahead, but his eyes reflected a complicated pain.  A younger guard next to him stepped closer to Oliver.  "War costs money, so it was taken from commoners first in the form of taxes. It became too burdensome, and one village fell after another.  No one could keep up with the costs."

Oliver shook his head again. "No, a war fund had been established since the kingdom's creation.  Bierze is not a struggling country, so the funds should have sustained everyone for at least half a century.  There was never a need to take from the commoners' coffers."

The young guard shook a little.  "How would you know this?"

"These funds are to be managed by the Royal Consort," Oliver said quietly, remembering his training many years ago.

The older guard patted the youth on the shoulder to make him stop his line of questions.  "The Gen— I mean, The Ghost was once slated to be the Royal Consort."

The youth's eyes widened, gazing at the stoic figure in the cage.  What would life have been like if he had sat on the throne?

Oliver noticed the gaze of the youth and smiled sadly. "I am not one meant to rule.  My throne is a saddle, and my crown is my sword. The battlefield has long been my domain."

He fell into deep contemplation as he observed the lands around him.  "Is this really all that's left?"

The youth nodded.  "Some tried their hands to make a living in the capital, but there are not many who could survive there.  They had to sell their bodies in the street or... in the army."

Oliver sighed heavily, and his head fell to his chest. "So my men... the men who fought bravely by my side were never volunteers but debtors... I was naive... I never thought to ask."

His eyes swept around, and he acknowledged the delicate and beautiful faces of the guards, and he frowned.  "You also had to sell yourself?"

The guard faltered for a moment and nodded slowly. 

"That King always liked young and beautiful things. I apologize for your fate." He said quietly. He knew that these men were just decoration and playthings for Piers. It probably was a kinder fate if they had joined the war.

Silence fell around them, and the guards who heard the conversation lamented inside their hearts. If they doubted Oliver's original intentions, they no longer did. Regret is a bitter pill because they know it is too late to change their destinies. They were all dogs of the current King, only allowed to obey orders.   

Oliver did not rest once, and his eyes trembled when he saw the city walls.  Would his family be there? Would they blame him for the wars as well?  Would they be present when he died?

He took a deep breath as the gates opened, and his cage was pulled into the capital. His anticipation turned to unobscured disgust as he saw the once beautiful streets crammed with beggars and prostitutes.  The bright white cobblestone was now caked with mud and filth.  The buildings were worn and in shambles.  However, as he neared the aristocratic section of the city, he found that there were more guards to keep out the peasants.  The wealthy noble families pranced around to flaunt their decadent lifestyle.  They cared not for the suffering people mere steps away from them.  They profited from the prolonged war.