A Ghost's Wish [MxM]

2. A Ghost's Request

Oliver's eye revealed a complicated emotion. "At the behest of my brother, I tried once. In return, I was gifted his hand... I am bound to this war, but I believe I can end it."

Draco slammed his fist on the table and stood up hastily. He hit his advisor, took the pen and paper, and angrily wrote something down.

The advisor flinched when he read the note, and his face pinched with sorrow. "... We are not executioners."

A broken laugh escaped Oliver's lips. "You're too quick-witted, Draco." He smiled, but it was torn with emotion. "But yes... that is my proposition. End this pointless struggle by ending me."

Savvi hissed. "No. You will not make us do this."

Oliver turned towards Savvi hopelessly. "You're one of the best strategists I know, Savvi. Please, think rationally about my request. Logically speaking, the war will end when you conquer Bierze or Piers surrenders. My death will be the greatest catalyst to end this war. To secure peace, this cost is negligible... It's a noble sacrifice."

"There is nothing noble about this sort of sacrifice. In the end, it's just death—a fucking meaningless death." Gallio said darkly.

Quincey shook and laid his hand on Oliver's shoulder. "You know I have no love or loyalty to the Belelots. I serve you and the Kardos family—no one else. Most of the men who follow you will say the same. They fight for you. But if you die prematurely, you know what will happen. You will become the villain, and they will place the blame on your shoulders and twist all of your meritorious deeds. Your men and I cannot sit back and watch them paint you as a monster, Oli."

Oliver smiled. "My home country already looks down on me. The King seeks nothing but my pain. My letters home have never received an answer, so even my family still disparages me. There's not much to my life besides a sea of blood and endless battles. If it means that I can finally rest, I will bear the weight of a villainous name."

Savvi solemnly shook his head. "Don't, Oliver. You can't guarantee that this will do anything."

"If you want to die so bad, kill yourself. Don't make us do it!" Gallio snarled.

Oliver smiled. "I was denied that option many years ago. I am only allowed to die on the battlefield or by the King's command. I loathe to admit it, but I fear the King's execution. I know that your blade would be more merciful."

The silence was resounding in the tent. Oliver sighed lightly. "You know the King's stance. This war will continue despite our personal desire for peace. I will leave first."

He stood up with a groan, his age and wounds catching up to him. Before he walked out, he left them with a few more words. "As a friend, I beg you to consider my request."

He left, his back straight and proud, although the words he had just spoken were humble.

A couple of nights passed since the peace treaties.  As if the conversation from that day didn't happen, Oliver stood at the front of his army. He made eye contact with the three other Generals across the open plains and smiled a little. Quincey stood next to him with a distressed demeanor.

"Oli... do you think they will do it?" He asked quietly.

"If I am lucky, then yes." He swung his leg over his horse and pulled out his dual swords. "Shall we?"

He was about to issue the command to charge, but loud trumpets stopped the momentum of the battlefield. Oliver turned towards the sound and saw a dazzling group ride towards them. They hoisted the flags of Bierze, and their armor gleamed in the sunlight. Oliver released a long breath, knowing that the King's men had arrived for him.