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.

Oliver suddenly was happy that he was stripped from his nobility and carried the name 'Ghost'.  These nobles were the actual monsters.

The mobs gathered around and hissed at the man in the cage, screaming obscenities in hopes that it would garner the King's pleasure.  But their words were caught in their throat when Oliver glared at them.  A child who lived in the comfort of silks and security would not be able to face the gaze of a man who had been baptized in war.  

Their protests fell silent, and all that was heard was the cage's creak and the horses' hooves pulling it along. 

This was the parade for the Ghost.

Oliver was roughly pulled out of his cage and marched to the prison tower. Although their hands were harsh, the guards would whisper their remorse as he passed them.

"I'm sorry."

"My General."

"Forgive me."

Many who knew of Oliver's devotion and deeds felt their hearts ache as they delivered him to his doom. They wished that the past was different and that Oliver had escaped the wrath of the King. If he did, maybe their world would have been different. Maybe there would be some hope in this bleak plane of existence.

Oliver sat in the highest tower and struggled against the bitter cold. However, his arms were chained to the stone wall, so he could not move. The door roughly opened, and Oliver raised his head to look at the familiar faces.

Piers was still a beautiful man, standing tall in all gold and red. His hair was blonde with touches of white and his cold blue eyes pierced into him. Oliver lamented on how history had twisted him. Piers was a kind child before they were engaged, but he was not slated to be king then. Piers' uncle sat on the throne and was greatly respected. However, his uncle died early, and Piers' father took the crown.

The child Oliver once knew was gone, destroyed by a deranged thirst for power.

Oliver forced his eyes away from him and found a petite man standing behind Piers. He had silver hair, light purple eyes, and an attractive appearance.  He looked much like Oliver when he was unmarred by blades and claws. 

It was a face he had never thought he would see; his younger brother.

Oliver smiled sullenly. "Ewen... You look well." He had long noticed that Ewen still had both of his hands.

Ewen snorted. "I definitely look better than you. I have heard of your wounds, but seeing them in person is alarming." He turned towards Piers and pouted. "You should have put a bag over his head before you brought me here."

Oliver's face fell, and the affliction caused by Ewen's words was evident in his demeanor.

Piers laughed as he watched the unraveling emotions in Oliver. "Look at him, my love. Look at how confused he is... The great General Kardos, Guardian of the Realms, master strategist, and war hero... you cannot fathom that your flesh and blood would turn against you?"

Ewen scoffed. "I cannot wait to be rid of you finally, brother. You are my last shackle."

Oliver sucked in a breath of cold air. "What do you mean shackle?"

"The Kardos family held me down. I was younger than you by just a year, but you all treated me like a child."

Oliver shook his head. "You were a child." His eyes narrowed. "And it seems like you are a child still."

"No! I was the only one with a goal. I wanted to rule! I wanted Piers and the throne. He was always mine for years before he ended his engagement with you. But no matter what, you stood in my way, even when you were prancing around like a pompous idiot. The only way to get you out of the way was to send you to fight. You were supposed to lose hope and die. But you're a stubborn bastard, just like our parents. Just like our brothers."

Oliver clenched his jaw and felt something ominous. "Where is our family?"

Ewen laughed maniacally and shrugged. "Did no one tell you? Oh, that's right... the information was never released to the public... The Kardos family disagreed with your punishment and had petitioned countless times to bring you back. To appease Piers, they even supported my marriage to him. They believed I would free you from the wars once I sat on the throne."

Piers chuckled. "You should have seen their faces when we declined their request."

"But our family was persistent and continued to protest. It grew... annoying." Ewen said with a careless shrug. "Did you not know that you have outlived our family?"

"No..." Oliver whispered. "You lie."

"Per our command, our parents and brothers left for Wynter a couple of years after the war started.  We told the public they left because they could not bear the shame you brought them."

Oliver closed his eyes in pain. 

"The people believe the Kardoses hide away in their castle, like cowards, but in truth, our family never made it to Wynter." Ewen's voice was bolstered with disgusting haughtiness.

Oliver didn't dare to speak. If he did, he felt like he would vomit blood. Gods... he resented them for many years, believing they cared more about their honor than his life. When he finally accepted his lot in life, he fought to make them proud despite the mountains of unanswered letters he sent them. Somehow, he found peace knowing he was fighting to protect them... but in reality, he was protecting ghosts.

Ewen felt joy seeing his suffering. "I know you sent letters home to Wynter every year. They were touching, but the dead have no use for your sentiments."

"We were loyal to you! We abided by that damn treaty between our families!" Finally, Oliver yelled at Piers with a shuddering voice.

Piers sneered. "Treaty? That ancient piece of garbage? If only you knew what it really said. It's no wonder my family kept it hidden for so long."

Oliver trembled. How many years had the Kardoses been shackled to this treaty and served the Bierze kingdom? Was their fealty a lie? 

And how did their family come to this? They were the last living sons carrying the Kardos name. Yet, one was bound in chains while the other was a traitor wearing a crown.

"Why? It doesn't make sense... my punishment, the prolonged war, the death of the Kardos family... Why?"

Piers motioned for a guard to bring him a chair and then chased him out. "You needed to be contained and controlled. You could have opposed me if you established your reputation and gained a following early on."

Oliver had come to realize a long time ago that Piers feared that someone would steal his throne. Piers would either restrain or kill anyone who was a threat to his rule. Piers had repeatedly tried to kill him for decades, even before the war. However, after countless failed attempts, Piers found that the war was an alternative to eliminate him. 

Oliver finally shook his head. "I never wanted to rule."

"No... but you or your family could have found that bastard. You could have sat him on my throne." Piers snarled.

"Who?" Oliver was confused. Who could have opposed Piers' claim to the throne? No one else was qualified. 

Piers didn't answer, so Oliver asked, "If I frightened you so much, why didn't you kill me outright?"

"Do you think I haven't tried?" Piers chuckled. "Even when you were my naive fiance, you somehow escaped my assassins. Then you became a damned General, which could cause discord if you are assassinated. We could have pushed your execution earlier, but we would need a just cause even to arrest you. It became increasingly difficult to frame you with something damning enough to kill you whenever you were victorious. These charges against you are a stretch, at best."

Oliver sighed. "Humor me then... why the war?"

Piers leaned in with an eerie grin, distorting his handsome looks. "It is a complicated story... but it begins with a myth; the Anima Wish."