Dorbei had always found himself standing at the pinnacle of the Ravagers. He wasn't a mindless brute or a bloodthirsty berserker. He was a tactician with powerful magic. He was always a step ahead of his opponents, and Yonsu greatly valued him. He knew that Yonsu asked him to meet with the Ghost because he knew how to manipulate others.
He was assured that the Ghost was soft-hearted and would gladly die for his compatriots. Yonsu's stories painted a picture of their victory because the Ghost had many sentimental weaknesses.
But this Ghost was not the fool he had expected. This Ghost lived up to his name—a haunting reaper with a scythe made from the souls of the dead.
Prey...
Dorbei felt a shiver creep up his spine. One of the greatest Ravagers nearly cowed in front of the Ghost.
Oliver told him he wasn't his prey, as if he was unworthy. But if that was the case, why did he still feel hunted?
His eyes shifted to the Dragon King, and his initial fear was dwarfed by the new terror that flooded him. Oliver's anger could freeze your very blood... but the dragon's rage was a cursed symphony of fire.
He became conflicted. Everything inside of him was telling him to flee. If he ran, he might live a little longer. But he was the devoted apostle of his King, and he could not move his feet.
Devoted... but why?
Suddenly, Dorbei was angry at Yonsu—his King, his sovereign, his people's savior—was nothing more than a calamity. He whispered pretty words of soaring in the sky... but man has no place in the sky that belongs to moonlight's swords and dragons.
Perhaps in another life, the Ravagers were successful. However, they will never succeed when these two men are allied together.
He suddenly broke from the illusion Yonsu had long cast over him... the Ravagers were doomed.
The memories Yonsu had transcribed... the prophecies that gave them hope.
"The Oracle said..." he murmured.
"Oracle?" Draco chuckled. "Prophecies are speculation at best; their meaning is based on half-guesses and shoddy interpretation. Open your eyes to the reality we live in now, Ravager."
Dorbei frowned and closed his eyes. "We will kill your Bierzean soldiers first... Slaughter them and stick their heads on spikes to decorate the walls of Bierze."
His words were not a threat but a defeated confession.
The Oliver Kardos in front of him was not the one from Yonsu's stories. This man before him was so much more than the one he expected.
"You were a fool to say that," Draco growled.
Dorbei nodded. "Tell me, Ghost... was everything he told us a lie?"
Oliver understood what he meant. Dorbei was questioning everything Yonsu had told him.
Dorbei turned to Draco. "Was there a time when I stood triumphantly in the ruins of Rucrea?" He then laughed with melancholy. "What a site that would be to behold."
Draco growled, "You will never see it."
His spear flashed towards Dorbei's head, but the air surrounding the Ravager trembled with wild magic, stopping Draco's spear.
Draco sneered at the magic. "What did you implant in your body?"
Dorbei smirked and opened his shirt, revealing a jagged scar over his chest. "You may have gotten a dragon's heart, Ghost, but I also took a magical creature's heart."
Draco suddenly laughed with thick disdain. "Have the lore of dragons degraded to this point? First, someone plays with fire in front of me... and now you flaunt a drake's heart? They are no better than overgrown lizards. It's a delusion to think this beast's heart is on par with a dragon's."
Scales started to cover his body, making the air shake around him as he unleashed a deafening roar.
Dorbei quivered and scrambled back. However, Draco's claws were too fast, and he clamped down around his head, his talons piercing his flesh.
The Ravager was trembling in Draco's grip, and he was breathing heavily. Blood and sweat dripped down his face, and his eyes were wide with terror.
"Do you regret your arrogance?" Draco rumbled.
Dorbei sucked in a trembling breath. "Yes..." he whimpered.
"Good... Die with that helpless feeling burrowing inside of you." Draco's voice was low, and he clenched his claws crushing the Ravager's head until it collapsed inside his grip.
Oliver smiled as Draco was avenging his people. He flashed towards the guards and cut them down, fulfilling his promise and killing them.
After the Ravagers had fallen, Oliver turned towards the open plains, aware that someone was watching them.
"Does that answer your question, Yonsu?" His yell echoed in the early dawn.
A terrible laugh answered him, and then there was silence.
Draco pulled Oliver in his arms and held him tightly. He nuzzled his face in the crook of Oliver's neck, breathing him in and scraping his canines against his skin.
"He won't take my heart," Oliver reassured him, knowing that he was upset about these words. "Nor will they harm Rucrea."
A possessive growl rumbled in Draco's chest. He held him a little tighter. "I will kill Yonsu."
Oliver smiled warmly and hummed. "I trust that you will."
Draco kissed his neck tenderly and nipped at his earlobe. "I fear we will have no time for rest... Our friends have some questions."
Oliver pulled back and ran his fingers over his white branded mark.
"Shall we head back first?" Oliver suggested. "I will need some ale to retell this story."
They rode back in silence and entered a tent stationed a little ways away from the camp. Their small group gathered around a table, and Oliver drank deeply from a flask of ale. This moment reminded him of the times of old when they held meetings for their peace treaties; the four Generals and Quincey.
Oliver turned his gaze to Quincey. "How much do you remember?"
"Ah, this conversation is finally happening." Quincey chuckled and relaxed in his chair, kicking his feet on the table.
Oliver raised an eyebrow. "Don't get too comfortable, Quincey. I also plan to discuss how you're courting my brother."
Quincey tried to sit up but rocked in the unbalanced chair, falling to the ground. His eyes showed a hint of panic as he looked up at Oliver. "General, about that...I care for him." His words turned to a small whisper.
Oliver sighed with a slight smile. "That will be another conversation at another time. We—"
Quincey stood up in a hurry. "No!" Once he realized he had interrupted his General, he winced. "Please, General. Allow me a moment to explain."
Oliver sighed and nodded. "You said you care for him, right?"
"Yes, General," Quincey answered as he straightened his posture to stand at attention.
Oliver trusted Quincey and had long accepted his affections towards Conrad. He only meant to tease him, but now he saw how serious he was about this matter. Quincey was typically flippant in the face of authority. This was the first time he witnessed Quincey being so serious.
Oliver respected Quincey's attitude. "I will allow your explanation," he finally answered, hiding his smile.
"I..." Quincey was at a loss. He was a man of war but still planned speeches and sonnets to describe his affection. However, now faced with his General, his words escaped him.
"I don't know how to describe it. I thought I did, but I can't voice it." He finally murmured. "He makes me want to be better. To accept my responsibilities and become King here and now... My decisions killed Conrad before. I ran from the throne and left Piers in power. This allowed him to cut down Conrad before I even had a chance to meet him."
He rubbed his eyes in a frustrated manner. "I lived over sixty years without knowing him. Sixty wasted years and innumerable empty breaths. I saw him for the first time a couple of months ago, and suddenly I felt whole... I didn't even realize how hollow my existence was until that moment. I won't waste the opportunity this new life has given me. I will fill my remaining years with moments of him."
Oliver chuckled. "Quincey Belelot. Thief. Soldier. King... and poet."
"Does that mean I have your blessing?" Quincey asked quietly.
Oliver's lips curled. "My brother can make his own decisions in life. He doesn't need my blessings to fall in love." He stood up and clapped Quincey on his shoulder. "Be patient with his stubbornness. He tends to focus too much on duty and forgets to care for himself."
"Seems like it's a Kardos trait," Quincey muttered.
Oliver clicked his tongue. "Don't get cocky."
He picked up the fallen chair and made Quincey sit back down. He looked around the room and noticed that Gallio and Savvi were watching the spectacle without any confusion or questioning gazes. They seemed to understand everything said, including when discussing their previous lives.
Oliver groaned. "Gods and hells... you all fucking remember. When did this happen?"
Savvi and Gallio jumped and looked at Quincey, urging him to answer.
Quincey rolled his eyes. "It was recent. We all had vague dreams this past year, hinting at another life. But we didn't remember much. But I remembered it all after we met in the treasury." Quincey explained. "But you shouldn't be so surprised. We have been fighting together for decades, Oli. There was no way I wouldn't remember."
"I'm sorry," Oliver murmured. He already felt guilty that Draco remembered those terrible times, but now his friends remembered.
"Idiot! You never fucking listen to me. I told you that if you died prematurely, they would place the blame on you and twist all of your meritorious deeds. And sure enough, they painted you as a monster." Quiency's words echoed what he told Oliver before he was arrested in their previous life.
"I know."
"Do you know why I chose to serve you and not claim my title as King?"
Oliver shook his head.
"Because you are worth following... I broke into the treasury, took my father's ring, hoping to stand up in front of the aristocrats, and declared my birthright. I got prison instead. I rotted there for ten years before manipulating the guards to allow me to go to the frontlines. That's when I met you, a good man who gave a damn about the people around you. I could have gone back when I got stronger, but what would I have returned to? A broken kingdom that was rotting from within? My choices were to usurp the throne and try to placate the mob, or I could stay by your side."
Oliver sighed heavily. "Those were shitty options."
"They were options nonetheless. A luxury you didn't have." Quincey laughed, but there was much sorrow in his eyes. "Thirty years, General. You fought that war for thirty years, and for what?"
Oliver frowned and moved to sit back. He sunk heavily in his chair.
Quincey watched him with red eyes. "My bastard cousin stripped you of your titles, took away your fucking name, and dubbed you as Ghost. He took everything away from you."
Draco reached out and took Oliver's hand in his. Only they knew how true that statement was. Draco had to witness how Piers took everything from Oliver, including his will.
"All I'm saying, Oli, is that you shouldn't be sorry that we remember what happened. I will never regret standing by your side." Quincey huffed as he sat back.
"Thank you," Oliver said quietly.
"Whatever," he murmured and took a long drink of ale. He looked down to try and hide the flush of his cheeks. He would not generally say sentimental words, but now he was confessing his feelings about love and loyalty.
Savvi sighed from the other side of the table, breaking the silence. "Gallio and my memories came back around the same time as Quincey's. We left for the church when you fell unconscious to confirm that our memories were real."
Oliver rubbed his eyes and suddenly laughed. He was flooded with emotion. The terrible loneliness he felt when he first returned had faded completely.
"The real question is how the fuck did we go back?" Gallio voiced.
"What do you know about the Anima Wish?" Oliver asked with a heavy sigh.
Gallio frowned. "This story is for children to give The Eternal War a happy ending. I would say that someone wouldn't be that desperate to dig through fairytales and lost histories for a wish, but I feel I would be wrong."
Oliver clutched the necklace around his neck. "Piers spent thirty years trying to gather the pieces of Anima's heart so his wish for power could be realized."
"Thirty years? Then the war..."
"A ploy to keep everyone busy while he and Yonsu searched." Oliver's words were heavy.
Quincey slammed his hand on the table with rage. "Loathsome vile king!"
"He would have done the same in this life, but the shards were used up when time reversed. Any magic remaining was released into the world." Oliver said quietly.
"Which explains why my holy power became stronger over a year ago. Is that when you returned?"
Oliver nodded. "I returned to a time when I could prevent my most grievous mistakes and interrupt Piers' plans."
Gallio grinned. "So you did steal the wish."
Oliver chuckled but shook his head. "Not entire. There were more than two wishes that day... Anima listened to the loudest one." He placed his hand over his heart. "And her last action was to give me her heart to help me in this new world."
Silenced fell upon the room, and Oliver pulled out his swords. The smiths in Abrorg helped reforge his uncle's swords, but they were already covered in cracks.
"Regular steel cannot hold up against magic. I already knew this after fighting Osmela in the war, but magic is stronger now. Anima knew this would happen, so I believe she gave me her heart to prepare for this."
Savvi tapped the table. "So, magic will be a bitch to fight against."
"The Ravagers have created spheres to store magic they siphon from magical beasts—Toatie Orbs. They can use it as a conduit to amplify their power. It will probably be the most annoying thing we are against." Draco explained.
This was a room of tenured Generals, and they started to discuss plans until Gallio knocked on the table.
"I know we need plans and all of that boring shit, but we haven't asked the most important question." He pointed to both Oliver and Draco. "When the hell did you two get together? You two hated each other in the previous life, but you're married now."
Quincey laughed. "Hated? They have been in love with each other the moment they first crossed blades."
Gallio's mouth dropped. "But... but you fought all the time!"
"We tacitly agreed on one-on-one battles to avoid further deaths," Draco explained.
"You never said anything."
Draco shrugged. "I was too lazy to write it down."
Oliver coughed and looked away, trying to avoid the humored looks of his comrades.
"Was the first thing you did when you came back was look for Draco?" Savvi asked with a smirk.
Oliver coughed lightly when he remembered that the first night he returned, he had pushed his father for information on Rucrea.
"I had a lot to prepare for, so I couldn't leave and look." He said. It wasn't a lie, but not altogether true.
Draco chuckled and leaned towards him. "Did you know that Ella and I have a deal? She tells me about anyone who inquires about me."
Oliver felt his face heat up as he recalled that he had asked Ella if Draco was injured a month after he returned.
Oliver coughed to mask his embarrassment. "Can we get back to the war at hand?"
With some grumbling, they went back to their strategies.
The afternoon passed, and they gave orders to their troops, adjusting the plans slightly until evening fell again. The Generals and Quincey went outside and gathered around a lonely campfire sharing a jug of ale.
Quincey noticed Oliver relax against Draco as he leisurely watched the cohesive army interact. Unlike the previous war, Oliver seemed unburdened and confident. He wasn't in pain, nor was he obsessing about making plans. He had help now.
The four Generals allied together.
Quincey chuckled with a deep sense of relief for his General. He raised a cup to Oliver. "Cheers to choosing the right side of the war this time."
Oliver grinned and returned the toast before drinking. Draco held his hand tightly, silently reiterating that he was no longer alone.