When Oliver revealed his exhaustion, the men in the room stiffened with surprise. They knew that Oliver had been fighting this war longer than anyone else. As Savvi implied, they all believed that he enjoyed the thrill of the fight. But now, there seemed to be more of the story. Only Draco seemed unsurprised.
Draco turned toward his advisor and wrote a few words.
His advisor nodded. "General Draco asked if this is why you gave such obvious openings when you two fought?"
The atmosphere turned heavy as all eyes turned toward him. Oliver smiled sadly. "Draco, you were too soft-hearted to take advantage of it."
He looked fondly at the perplexed and conflicting gazes of his opponents. They truly were friends on the battlefield. They respected each other and found pleasure in meetings like this. If they were living another life, they would have been fast friends. He can only hope that they can help him find some rest.
Oliver paused, and his eyes remained on Draco's figure. "My punishment was to die in war... but I'm stubborn and continued to survive. But the king's little spy was right; I'm just his dog... and as the old saying goes, you boil the hound once the rabbit is caught."
"What do you mean? Are you implying that Bierze's king no longer finds his most accomplished General useful?" Savvi asked.
Oliver shrugged. "Whatever he was after, he is close to gaining it; therefore, I am dispensable."
"King Piers is an asshole. He's not worthy of following." Gallio seethed. "How can you follow a man who orchestrated the burning of Abrorgs' Fae Fields, destroyed our holy relics, and desecrated Rucrea's Dragon Cenotaphs?"
"The old treaty between the Kardoses and Belelots is binding... however, my hands are tied even if that wasn't in effect," Oliver said softly.
Draco wrote something down, and his advisor paled as he read it out loud. "General Draco said treaties are just words on parchment, and no one has seen this document that enslaves your family. Do you trust this exists?"
Oliver's eyes widened for a moment. This was an ancient treaty that his family had blindly accepted, forcing them to serve under the Belelots as the leader of their armies. He had questioned the validity of this document countless times and was tempted to break it. However, he was reluctant to bring more shame to his family. Their lack of response proved that they held no love for him. Still, he couldn't bear to harm them more than he already had.
Nonetheless, ancient pledges were meaningless to Oliver in this discussion. "Even if it didn't exist, my obligation still stands."
"You're powerful. Why couldn't you just stand up to him?" Savvi asked.
Gallio scoffed. "Or, hell, abandon him. Any one of our nations will accept you."
"I have inherited my Uncle's title... I am not only a General but also the Guardian. How can I do such a thing?" Oliver said quietly.
"The actual title is Guardian of the Realms, not just Bierze. You have the option to turn your blade against Bierze when they threaten all the realms." Savvi said quietly.
Quincey clicked his tongue and stepped forward. "His younger brother sits on the throne. If he disobeys the King, Royal Consort Ewen will die a miserable death."
Oliver gave him a bone-chilling glare. "Quincey." He warned again.
"Don't give me that look, Oli. They deserve to know the truth." Quincey retorted.
Oliver hated that he inwardly agreed with Quincey. He admired these men, and as shameful as his past was, they should know the truth of this war.
Gallio bit his lip, trying to conceal his pity. They had wondered about Oliver's motivations, but this was too much. War was his punishment. "Can't you save him?" He asked.
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.
"So Trent had the guards lie in wait this entire time." Oliver's voice was raspy, and he barely concealed the tremble. He held up his hand to the men behind him.
"I have one last order, men." He shouted, making his men jolt.
They could not fathom why this would be his last order, but they didn't question him and answered in unison, "Yes, General!"
Oliver took a deep breath. "Do not compromise your hearts." He turned back at the thousands of men starting at him with reverence. "I am proud to have served you."
He urged his horse to trot and took off to meet the King's men.
Gallio, Savvi, and Draco were curious about the interruption and went to meet Oliver. Oliver gave them a short nod and jumped off his horse. A carriage door from the fancy procession opened, and Trent climbed out with a proud smile. He walked up to Oliver with a golden scroll in his hands. Obviously, this was all preplanned, and Trent was not sent as a spy but as a mouthpiece. Oliver was doomed to whatever fate Piers had fancied.
"General Oliver Kardos, son of Duke Aaron Kardos, I have come with King Piers' declaration. Kneel and show your fidelity." He spoke loud enough so that those surrounding them would be able to hear.
Oliver smiled. "I would love to, but I have a bad leg, and I fear I cannot kneel for some simple words."
Trent glared while the Generals of the opposing armies snickered. Trent snapped at two guards who rushed over and grabbed Oliver's arms. They kicked his legs, making him fall to his knees. He bit back a groan.
He scoffed but faltered when he noticed that the guards two bore a strange sigil on their swords: a bear wearing a crown. He never saw this crest before, but before he could truly ponder it, Trent started to speak.
"The Sun of Bierze, King Piers, has found General Oliver Kardos guilty of high treason. His facetious actions have prolonged the war for decades and taken the lives of countless men. We have declared that General Kardos had burned the Fae Fields of Abrorg and started the war thirty years ago. General Kardos found and destroyed the sacred artifacts of Osmela. He had also infiltrated and instigated the destruction of Rucrea and their Dragon Cenotaphs. The kingdom of Bierze will arrest General Kardos and strip him of his duchy. He will no longer bear the honorable titles of General and Guardian of the Realms. Additionally, the name Oliver Kardos will be struck from history. The former General shall forever be shackled with a name befitting his villainy.
"Because he has haunted this continent, stirred terror, and lived closer to death than life, he shall forever bear the name, 'Ghost'." Trent sneered. "This monstrosity shall be arrested and held to the Royal Court's trial. He will be punished according to his crimes."
Oliver frowned at the words. He knew he would be arrested, but he didn't realize that they would take it as far as to forcibly carve him out of the Kardos family. What was worse was given an infamous name, separating him further from his family. His remains would be scattered, and an epitaph would be erected as a warning. He would only be known as the Ghost when history books are written, losing all other identities.
A villain in Bierze's stories.
Still, Ghost was a fitting name. He accepted it.
Although Oliver expected this, his heart mourned the loss of his familial ties. He steadied his heart and nodded. "I understand."
The atmosphere tensed because of Oliver's casual answer. He was supposed to thank the King for his words or beg for mercy, but Oliver refused to do either.
"You dare disrespect your King? Even now?" Trent snarled.
Oliver looked up at him and laughed. "I'm the Ghost now. There is no other identity than this. Therefore, I am not a General, a Guardian, a Kardos, or a citizen of Bierze." His eye narrowed, and his killing intent ripped through the air, making weaker men stumble. "Piers fucking Belelot is not my king."
A guard panicked and kicked him with his iron boot, connecting with his chin. Oliver's head snapped back, and he swayed a little.
Gallio's eyes flicked between Oliver and Trent. "The Ghost has offended Osmela and has brought the wrath of the gods. We demand to take him and offer him as a sacrifice to appease the gods."
Savvi was next to speak. "He has also burned the sacred fields of my land. Let us have him instead, and we will offer his blood to water the soil."
Draco nudged his advisor. The advisor bowed deeply. "Rucrea has deep animosity with the Ghost. He deserves to rot in the depths of our cenotaphs."
Trent shook his head with a deep smile. "Worry not, Generals. For the Ghost's crimes, he will be subjected to death by Infinite Lacerations."
A shiver ran through everyone who heard. It was a miserable death. His ligaments would be cut one by one until he could no longer move. Then they would cut him countless times on display in the middle of the city for all to see. He would not die quickly. He would slowly bleed out while enduring terrible pain.
They now understood Oliver's request. They wished they could take him away and save him from his fate. So they argued with Trent, throwing out excuses to free him from a terrible end. Oliver was right; their blade would be more merciful.
"Take him away," Trent ordered, pointing at the caged cart in their procession.
The guards started to drag him, but Draco stomped his foot. His advisor bowed again. "This will not quell our anger. He should die in the hands of those he harmed."
Trent scoffed. "There is no greater crime than harming your own country." He motioned to keep dragging Oliver away.
Draco clenched his jaw, pulled out his sword, and launched toward Oliver. His blade was close to meeting his neck and granting him a quick death, but Trent pushed one of the guards in the way. Draco's sword pierced through the guard but never made it to Oliver.
Draco released a strangled breath and tried again. However, the guards responded and moved between Draco and Oliver.
Trent glared at him. "I understand your anger, but only Bierze will be allowed to kill him."
He turned sharply, and they threw Oliver in the cage.
The three Generals watched the procession disappear. Savvi sighed a little. "I have a bad feeling about Oliver's fate."
"I don't fucking like it," Gallio muttered while Draco gave a stiff nod. His red eyes pierced into the horizon where Oliver had disappeared.