Work Text:
A Conversation with Fourchenault Leveilleur
Boric finished teleporting from Thavnair. Though he was glad they'd been able to get rid of the tower there and rescue the arkasodara trapped there, Y'Shtola's proposal troubled him. He agreed that taking out the tower in Garlemald would likely take out the other towers. And yet the scars on his heart from the Garlean occupation of Dalmasca had yet to heal.
He followed Krile and the others to the Baldesion Annex and placed his box of warding scales with the others. Boric stared down at the pile of boxes contemplatively before leaving the annex. He wandered around Sharlayan for a while until he found himself near the Last Stand. And then realized he'd likely been lead there by his nose and the rumbling of his stomach.
He approached the current proprietor of the only restaurant, Dickon, "Dickon, what are some dishes that are some good representations of Sharlayan cuisine? I've had Archon loaf and I'm not sure I could make a proper meal of that."
Dickon chuckled, "I'd hardly call that good representation. It's fine in a pinch or if you're out traveling and don't have time for a proper meal." He thought for a moment, "I think fish cakes would work. I like them with a nice green salad. Sometimes on I mix the cakes with the salad, other times I eat them separately."
Boric nodded, "That sounds good, thank you. I'll have that. Could I get that to go? I need to do some thinking and I figure that cliff to the west is a good spot." He waved a hand in the direction he meant.
Dickon nodded, "Aye, we can do that." Boric settled the debt and sat on a nearby bench to wait. He watched the people come and go; sometimes pushing a cart, other times in discussion with another person.
After a while one of the waitresses approached Boric with a bag and a blanket. He nodded and quickly checked the contents before continuing on his way. He went up to the cliff and found as flat a place as possible before laying out the blanket and placed the boxes on it. Using his boot, Boric dug out a divot before placing down a jar of brown liquid.
He carefully portioned out some of the salad and cut up a fish cake before mixing a few pieces in with the salad. Alternating fish cake and bites of salad, Boric began eating. After a bit, he ate the portion of salad that had bits of fish cake mixed in. After a few bites of this, he continued alternating bites of the fish cake and salad.
"Master Boric?" a voice spoke up behind him.
Looking over his shoulder, he raised an eyebrow, "Master Fourchenault."
"I hope I'm not bothering you." The elezen queried.
Boric shrugged and took a bite before answering, "You are, but you don't strike me as the type to approach someone unless you have business with them." He gestured to the space next to him, "Have a seat."
Fourchenault frowned and gingerly sat on the grass next to the Warrior of Light, "Am I that deserving of your animosity?"
"Remind me again how our first meeting went." the hrothgar asked.
"The Eorzean Alliance asked for Sharlayan's aid, and we denied such aid." Fourchenault looked out over the harbor.
"And? There was more to it, unless you need me to remind you." Boric demanded of man next to him.
He took a breath before continuing, "And I disowned my children when they raised their voice to me and realized they chose to defy what they'd learned in Sharlayan to fan the flames of conflict in other nations."
"Is that how you see it? Is that truly how you see the world? So bland, so simple." The hrothgar scoffed before spearing a piece of fish cake onto his fork, "I find more complexity in this than you find in the world." Boric stabbed at a few pieces of salad and ate them with the fish cake before taking a breath to continue. "I suppose you can be somewhat forgiven, given that you hadn't seen them in several years and knew only what they'd written home about."
"How do you mean?" Fourchenault asked, tilting his head inquisitively.
"You know of the millenia-long war between Ishgard and the Dravanians, yes? It was Alphinaud who spoke with Hraesvalgr, convincing him to join his strength with ours to defeat Nidhogg and save our friend Estinien." Boric raised a hand to forestall the interruption, "Yes, fighting was necessary. There was no other recourse, Nidhogg was fully given over to vengeance. For someone like that, talk is no longer an option."
"And what of Alisaie? What has she been up to that she hasn't mentioned in her letters?" Fourchenault demanded.
Boric grinned mischievously, "She negotiated with pirates."
"She what?" The elezen asked incredulously.
"They call themselves The Confederacy and they demand a 'Ruby Tithe' from any ship who wishes to cross the Ruby Tide." The hrothgar took a sip of the liquid in the jar, "Peach lemonade?" Fourchenault accepted and carefully took a sip, "At the time Garlemald's navy was operating in the area and defied such a tax, stating that anybody who paid such a tax would be seen as an enemy of Garlemald and a support of the resistance. Naturally the Confederacy hadn't the power to enforce the Tithe against so powerful an enemy. The acting viceroy at the time had taken a friend of ours prisoner in a fishing village, including the rest of the village and some visiting pirates. In order to free him, and the pirates that were imprisoned, Alisaie came up with a plan to separate the Red Kojin from their Garlean master. With that done, the Confederacy would find it much easier to free the village." Boric ate some more of the fish cake.
"How did she get the Red Kojin to turn on Garlemald?" His companion demanded.
"Separate, not turn on. It would've taken a lot for them to do something like that. For insight on the Red Kojin, and Kojin as a whole, we were directed to the Isle of Bekko, and the undersea village of Tamamizu, where the Blue Kojin made their home. We were told that if we broke into the Red Kojin vault on the Isle of Zekki, they would be forced to fall back and reinforce it, repelling any invaders."
"None of what you're telling me convinces me they don't fan the flames of war." Fourchenault stated, crossing his arms.
Boric nodded, raising his jar, "That's because in those cases conflict either already existed or was likely to happen, no matter what the Twins did. They only sought ways to decrease the number of lives that would've been lost." He took a sip of his lemonade. "It may be hard to see through the lens of 'charting the course of history, but not change it', but your children seek to make the world a better place. That the children of places like Ishgard, and Doma, and Ala Mhigo might grow in some semblance of peace and freedom, and have families of their own."
"And what of the death and devastation? Do not tell me you don't have scars from all the fighting since joining the Scions." The elezen demanded, crossing his arms angrily.
The hrothgar looked out over the harbor, "The destruction of buildings and monuments can be rebuilt. While its true the lives that were lost can't be replaced, but they died wanting to make the world a better place. That their children, and the children of others, won't need to fight the battles they did." Boric turned his head back towards Fourchenault, "Everyone who lifts a sword or casts a spell in battle knows that there is at least a chance they'll come away from battle with a scar or two. Knowing that our family and friends sleep safely, able to look forward to a brighter future, is reward enough for what we do."
Fourchenault looked out towards the statue of Thaliak in thought.
The hrothgar ate a few more bites of the salad and fish cakes before speaking again, "I see a bit of my daughter in Alisaie, preferring action to just sitting around and wanting to help others. And Alphinaud is a mix of my youngest and oldest sons." Boric turned to the elezen, "I do understand the desire to protect them from the dangers of the world, but there is no good way to protect them. All we can do is teach them right from wrong and how to defend themselves, and hope they put those lessons to good use."
"Hmph, I suppose next you'll be telling me I should be proud of them for what they've done." Fourchenault scoffed.
Boric shrugged and grinned, "They're not my kids, and I'm still proud of them. In the four years I've known them they've helped end a millenia-long war, been instrumental in freeing two nations from oppression, and helped save another world from succumbing entirely to the Light, which would have also triggered an Eighth Umbral Calamity."
The Warrior of Light finished his meal and gathered up the boxes and blanket, "I said it before and I'll say it again, you have a very bland and simple view of the conflict that exists in the world. We do try to avoid fighting, but sometimes its inevitable, and they do not shy away from it when it does happen." Boric grinned down at Fourchenault, still sitting on the grass, "They and the other Scions even apologize when talks fail and I'm forced to fight." The Warrior of Light raises his hand in farewell and made his way down to the Last Stand to return the servingware and blanket.