The talk of a hidden heir had stifled the room.  It was a treasonous discussion that Oliver thought would have been impossible the night before. Yet his father and uncle seemed to know more than they let on. 

"I never thought I would say this to you, but you're too smart for your own good," Aaron said quietly.

Oliver's lips curled. "Do you know where the heir is?"

Aaron released a long breath. He wasn't sure if this was something they should have shared with Oliver. He hadn't even breached the topic with Conrad, but Antony insisted that Oliver needed to know.

"We used to know," Aaron's voice was hoarse. "But a couple of years back, his village was destroyed, so he has been wandering about. If he doesn't want to be found, he never will be."

"Does he know of his birthright?" Oliver's words trembled. 

Aaron nodded. 

Oliver cursed as he stood up angrily, tossing his book to the floor. "So he runs from his duties."

"Last we heard, he is searching for an item to assist him with his claim to the throne. Things like this will take some time."  Aaron seemed to be insistent on defending the heir's complacency.

Oliver shook his head, heavy with frustration. "Time is a luxury we do not have. If Piers sits on that throne, the realms will be threatened."

Aaron sighed and creased his brow. "I know you dislike the Prince—" 

Oliver cut him off with a laugh. It was chilling enough to lower the temperature in the room. "Dislike? My affection for him cannot be affiliated with the mild-manner word 'dislike'. Honestly, I don't know which is greater; my hatred towards Piers or my fear of him."

Antony and Aaron shared pale expressions. They didn't know how to respond to these terrible words.

Oliver leaned against the wall, reining in his anger. "I will give this heir two years to find his item and take the throne."

Antony felt a chill creep up his back when he heard Oliver set a timeline. Something about his tone made him realize that the heir had no choice in the matter.

Oliver ran his palm over his eyes. "Piers will end our engagement during his coming-of-age, so I will lose access to the palace and will be no help to him. But I will have an opportunity to kill Piers in two years."

He recalled that Piers held a grand celebration in the capital two years after his coming-of-age. He was careless and didn't keep his guards with him during this night. He was almost assassinated. Oliver knew that he could be successful if he attempted the assassination.

"Are you sure this is the route you want to go?" Aaron was looking at Oliver as if he had never seen him before.

"Absolutely."

Antony crossed his arms over his chest. "Then you need people to support you. I will integrate you into the Core as soon as possible."

The Core was a selective army branch that only accepted highly skilled soldiers. They were only loyal to the Guardian of the Realms and based in Wynter.

Aaron was shocked. "The Core? But Oliver knows nothing about the army. They will eat him alive!"

Antony laughed. "So he has fooled you too, brother? I would like to see who has the capabilities to devour Oliver."

Aaron still wasn't able to grasp his meaning. Could his son be something more than the headache-inducing child he has always known?

Oliver coughed a little. "You mean to send me back to Wynter?"

Antony nodded. "Most of the Core is there. You will also benefit from the library there. It is filled with military books and strategy guides. You can use this as an opportunity to study.  If you happen to have any questions, you can find Timothy.  He is my second-in-command who is stationed there."

Aaron's snapped his gaze toward Antony. "Are you training him to take over your role?"

"I have no desire to die as the General and Guardian," Antony said with a stiff nod.

Oliver smiled slightly when he realized he might inherit his uncle's titles again. This time, he could do it with pride. "I can handle the training and the men."

Antony laughed. "How about a demonstration of your skills? Come with me."

He led Oliver and Aaron out of the house and through the barracks. He had his training ground that was blocked from everyone else.

One of the soldiers was napping on a bench when they got there. Antony walked up to him and kicked him off the bench.

The man fell but twisted his body, so he caught himself to avoid an awkward landing. "General! What the hell?"

"Mark, get the rest of the Core here now," Antony ordered.

Mark looked tentatively at the other men behind Antony; however, he didn't ask any questions and ran out. Antony looked back at Oliver. "Ready yourself."

Oliver nodded, walked to the wall with weapons, and pulled out two practice swords. He swung them slowly to warm up his muscles.

Turning, he saw a group of seven men enter the training grounds. They laughed lightly with disdain when they noticed the swords in his hands. 

Oliver closed his eyes, his heart bolstered with nostalgia and joy. He had recognized these men as his dear brothers of the battlefield. But like most soldiers, he had watched their bodies burn on the funeral pyre. 

He opened his eyes with a stronger resolution to stop Piers. Instead of focusing on the failures of his previous life, he would covet his time with them.

Knowing they were easily riled, he decided to be a little cheeky. "Are you sure they can handle it, Uncle?" 

Antony restrained his smile, but his lips still curled. "We'll see."

Oliver's eyes flashed toward the group of soldiers. "Then, who's first?"

Their carefree looks turned serious, and one of them pulled out a sword from his belt. He sauntered over to Oliver.

"I'm James. I'll face you first." 

Antony pursed his lips. "James, fight like your life depends on it."

James nodded and lowered himself with his sword held in front of him. "I'll let you go first, Little Lord."

Oliver raised his swords with one blade held defensively while the other was poised to attack. It was similar to the Kardos dual sword style but foreign at the same time. 

Oliver has been fighting nonstop for thirty years, so he has changed his techniques and styles to perfect them further, especially in warfare. It wasn't the old Kardos style, but something evolved and new.

He wanted to remain low-key, but Antony brought him here to integrate into the Core so he could lead them soon. The only way to do this was through strength. He could not afford to hold back.

"Then allow me to be discourteous," Oliver said and rushed forward.

His steps were fast, almost instantaneous. Before James could breathe, Oliver was in front of him, and one sword was swung down heavily.

James went to block it but realized that Oliver was positioning his other sword to thrust.

The movements were peculiar, and not many could wield blades so distinctively as Oliver. James groaned because he felt like he was facing two different masters.

James twisted and avoided the thrust, but Oliver's other blade knocked back his block and attacked again.

James pushed back and narrowly missed the blade. He cursed and understood why Antony had warned him. He chose to attack in the next bout but was blocked by Oliver. He was frustrated to see that Oliver wasn't even breaking a sweat.

Antony didn't suppress his smile. "Sal, you join in too."

The Core members shook. "Two on one?"

Antony nodded. "Let's see how far he will go."

Sal rushed out and met the pair, his blade blocking one of Oliver's swords.

Oliver didn't seem surprised and adjusted accordingly. His stance changed to greet two fighters instead of one.

He jumped towards James again. James groaned as his hands shook from blocking the heavy blow. "Why me again?" He complained.

Sal sliced down towards Oliver, but Oliver used James as a base to push himself backward, making the blade hit empty air. Oliver spun, and his sword cut across Sal's stomach.

Sal threw himself out of range and cursed.

Another Core member attacked Oliver. Although he faced three people, he was unfazed. He had met many more, so this was nothing to him. He only had to worry about his stamina.

He ducked past the new blade, kicked out, tripping the new opponent, and then jumped towards James.

"Again?!" He cried out and gritted his teeth as he blocked.

Oliver danced around the three opponents until a fourth one joined in. Oliver made eye contact with the new opponent and smiled when he saw it was Mark. Mark was the best of all of them, which meant they took him seriously.

Oliver took a deep breath and quickened his pace.

Antony and Aaron stood frozen, watching the battle. Oliver's sword skills are beyond theirs. There was no doubt. He just lacked strength and stamina. However, what was more astounding was Oliver's movements. He danced around the blades like he was a ghost. His footsteps blurred, and he became unpredictable.

The four men did their best to attack but kept being pushed into defending.

With another swing, James lost hold of his sword, and he fell on his back. "Shit!"

However, Oliver didn't follow up with his hit and turned to the other three.

"Enough," Antony said, and all the men stopped their attacks.

However, Oliver's blade position proved that he had the upper hand, with one blade nearing Sal's throat and the other pushing Mark back.

The three men fell on the ground with James and tried to catch their breath.

"What the hell was that?" Sal asked Oliver.

Mark chuckled. "Who knew you could fight like that? I thought you were a novice. You even got knocked out by Conrad a month or so ago."

"Circumstances are different now," he chuckled and turned toward Antony. "Did you want me to continue with the others?"

The remaining three men held up their hands and backed away. Some even started to plead with Antony to let them off the hook.

Antony shook his head. "We know the results. Besides, your wound is bleeding."

Oliver reached behind his back and lightly touched the cut he received from Tomin. He felt a sharp sting, and then wetness blanketing his hand. He sighed when he saw blood on his fingertips.

"Gallio is going to kill me." He murmured. It had been over a while since the attack, and the worst had healed. However, the strenuous movement ripped open the wound again.

James picked himself off the ground. "I have some medical skills. Take off your shirt, and let me see."

Oliver nodded and pulled off the bloody shirt. He could help but to feel the tense atmosphere around him. He looked around and saw each person staring at his bare chest. He felt the need to cover himself.

Mark was the first to speak. "What happened?"

Oliver raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Aaron was suddenly in front of him and examined the wounds, especially the grievous scar over his heart. "These scars... How did you get these?"

Oliver looked down and wanted to curse for forgetting that his family had not seen his scars. Everyone expected a flawless body of a spoiled son, but instead, they found a scarred canvas of hardship.

The night he first returned to the past, he had looked at these old scars, but they were considered light compared to the ones he gained during the war. 

"Bad luck." He answered quietly.

"These are stab wounds." James suddenly said, looking at several scars. "Shit. How many times has someone stabbed you?"

Oliver looked worriedly at his father, whose jaw was clenched tightly.

"They were different events. Street thieves and bandits." Oliver murmured. Most of the wounds on his young body were from assassination attempts or Piers lashing out.

"And these?" Sal asked, pointing at a dense scar on his shoulder.

Oliver recalled the teahouse fire when a burning beam fell on him as he escaped. "Fire."

They pointed to another, a lighter scar sitting across his stomach. Oliver tried to recall the event and then frowned when he found the memory.

"I was careless." He said with a tight voice, truly regretting his carelessness in taking off his shirt.

"Oliver," Aaron said with a low voice. Oliver knew it was his way of scolding him for not speaking the truth.

Oliver sighed. "Piers thought I was an intruder and swung a knife. I didn't dodge in time."

The tempered General inside Oliver fled in the face of Aaron's rage. He felt like a 19-year-old child who was afraid to disappoint his father again. 

He hurriedly tried to appease Aaron and spoke thoughtlessly. "I learned my lessons. Now, I can dodge most of his attacks."

But this was the wrong thing to say, and he immediately lamented his words when his father's and uncle's killing intent choked the air.

"Men, guard the door," Antony ordered his Core soldiers. The men took off without a second word but looked back at Oliver with concern. James quickly wrapped up his wound and gave his shoulder an encouraging squeeze before leaving.

"You didn't answer me when I asked if he has harmed you... and then you mentioned you feared him as much as you hated him. What has he done to you?" Aaron growled.

Shame suddenly overwhelmed Oliver. He had killed countless men and endured the battlefield longer than anyone else. He was the Guardian, the General, the Ghost... but hidden behind those grandiose titles was just a boy who was abused by his lover.

How many hits did he tolerate? How many assassination attempts did he turn a blind eye to? If he investigated most of his scars, he would probably find Piers' hand on the other side. 

He never said anything in his last life and told himself he suffered from bad luck. He yearned so desperately for Piers' affection that he overlooked the frequent incidents.  He trained himself to look away, closing his eyes to the apparent attacks. It wasn't until deep within the war that he realized the truth about the viciousness of his fiance.

He was foolish. He despised the child he was before and hated his weakness.

He should have turned his back on Piers and joined the other kingdoms. Most of the army would follow him... and they would have lived longer.

Guilt interceded his shame, and he tasted the bitterness of his defeat at Piers' hands.

Aaron saw the flurry of emotions plaguing Oliver. "How long have you been enduring this?"

Antony watched from the side and felt a deep heaviness in his heart.  He had wondered the same thing the night he met Oliver in the garden. Oliver had learned to fight under their noses.  He suffered under their watch.

As Oliver remained silent, Aaron's anger grew. He always disliked Piers and his father, and now he held even great animosity. They were irreconcilable.

"Oliver, we cannot tolerate this.  Why didn't you say anything?" He asked, his voice shaking. "You could have approached us? Didn't you trust us? We could have kept you safe!"

He reached out to Oliver, trying to hold on to his arm, wanting to question him more. But Oliver couldn't accept his touch, and he stepped back. 

"I can handle this on my own." His voice was monotone.

"I am your father!"

Oliver laughed disdainfully. "And what, father? What can the Kardos family do against our masters? Gods, we have been bound by a treaty for generations. We have knelt in fealty until we can't recall how to straighten our backs. The people whisper and call us the dogs of the Belelots, muzzled mutts of the kingdom. We have bent, bowed, and scraped at their feet, thanking them for the rotten scraps they have thrown our way."

Antony and Aaron felt a fluctuation in their hearts, a resentment they couldn't be rid of. The treaty was the Kardos' disgrace.

Oliver released a shaky breath. "The moment we agreed to this engagement, I became his possession. He can treat me however he wishes."

"He has no right to lay a hand on you! No one should treat their partner like this!"  Aaron's eyes were red with pain and anger. He reached out and gently cupped Oliver's cheeks. "You are worth more than this."

Antony's hands were clenched and trembling at his side. "We will demand an explanation."

"No. We cannot confront them." Oliver's voice had turned quiet. He remained still as his father held him. "The Belelots are traitorous, power-hungry murderers. Their throne is made from the bones of their political sacrifices. The only family threatening them is the Kardoses, but Piers has a sweet tongue and has already seduced most aristocratic families... One word from him can ignite a war, and we will be pushed to the frontlines. Or they can turn the kingdom against us, painting us as villains. They can destroy us if we are rash."

Antony stepped closer to them with wide eyes. "You can't be sure of this."

"I intimately know how far Piers is willing to go for power," Oliver said quietly, his mind flashing to the time he was chained up in the tower while Piers and Ewen taunted him. He couldn't help but shiver.

Oliver released a trembling breath and gave his father and uncle a stubborn look that had an underlining hue of anger. "I know you have questions, but I cannot answer most of them now. However, I can assure you that I'm not a benevolent being. I repay my debts."