A Ghost's Wish [MxM]

1. A Ghost

The morning air was tainted with blood, masking the sunrise in a desolate red. The screams of young men now scored a world that used to be serenaded by wildlife and nature.

The world was haunted by death, and he was the ghost that walked amidst the battlefield.

Death echoes with each broken footstep. He was the soldier that survived by staining his hands with the blood of others.  Now the battles and sieges were as countless as the stars in the sky.  He no longer knew life without fighting. Now he was merely a shell of a human as he flitted between the blade of life and death.

Oliver walked through the campsite and emotionlessly watched as the men scrambled to their feet to salute him. They called out to him, "General," with reverence in their eyes.  Yet they all seemed wary when they looked in the distance toward a grand tent in the middle of the open plains. 

Oliver nodded as a greeting.  His prestige did not waiver despite his worn clothes and lack of armor.  He walked tall and proud with two swords strapped to his back.

Quincey approached him with a sigh.  "The men fear you are going to your death."

Quincey Bell was always Oliver's right-hand man.  He was delivered to Oliver in a cage, a clumsy thief who was paying his dues. However, he proved to be irreplaceable on this battlefield. In the end, he had accompanied Oliver in this endless war, growing old alongside each other.  His once blonde hair had turned white, his blue eyes had dulled, and scars littered his once-attractive face. Two scars stood out more prominently than the others, an old wound from childhood that still decorated his chin. 

He looked intimidating but truly cared and worried for Oliver's wellbeing.  They were friends first before soldiers.

Oliver patted him lightly on the shoulder.  "It's nothing but a meeting between our four nations.  We all have suffered in this long war, so if we can commandeer at least an hour of peace, we will do so."

Quincey shook his head lightly.  "At this point, I wish that King of ours would just concede... Or die."

"Careful with your words.  You know his spies are everywhere." Oliver hissed while shooting him a dark look.  He glanced around and was relieved that no one was near them then.  As long as Oliver was alive, a war will always be fought. That was the King's solemn promise.

Oliver paused and looked up at the darkening clouds. The distorted light reflected off of the gruesome scar on the left side of his face.  A careless encounter with a sand drake destroyed his face and took his sight from his left eye. A patch covered the empty socket while his violet right eye pierced into the heavens above. 

"It's going to snow soon." He said quietly.  "If my Kardos estate in Wynter still stands, then the evergreens surrounding it will be covered in white. The lake in the back will soon freeze over, and the children will be able to skate across it..."

As he turned older, he became nostalgic, missing his old family home. But he had not laid eyes on the estate for nearly thirty years since he was ordered to go to war.

It was such a bitter war too.  It rivaled the great Eternal War of ancient times that razed the land for a century. This war seemed to be following the same lines as that cursed one. 

But such a pointless war like this deserved no name. It was simply 'The War', the nameless entity that shrouded the world and death.

Every time there was an end in sight, King Piers would incite another country and rally a new war.  But the one who suffered most was King Piers' kingdom of Bierze.  The land was ravished with little to no profit.  The only place thriving was the capital city, and the residents were ignorant of the desperation outside their high walls.