Go Figure

by Andaliri

No one seems to believe Borus when he says he's not in love with the Lady Chris, so he takes it upon himself to tell everyone he's not. But he forgets to tell one important person--himself.

2. Travel Ethics

**********

Ugh. The insanity isn't over yet, so don't relax...Yet.

All right. Disclaimer. Just to please those who actually think I need them.

Yeah, right.

If you think that I own Suikoden 1, Suikoden 2, Suikoden 3, or any of the Suikogaidens, I'd give you a cookie and pat you on the head, but I'd think you some sort of an idiot to think that I had anything to do with the making, release, or selling of those games. Flattering, but horribly untrue.

There. That should last the rest of the story.

Oh, and...um, well, the story doesn't completely revolve around Borus' denying that he's in love with Chris. There's still the Percy-leaves-for-some-reason-no-one-can-figure-out thing coming soon.

By the way, no worries: Percy mellows out here. A little. Or not much. But he gets a little serious—no more bubbliness.

At least, for now.

**********

The consequences of the morning's mess resulted in a great deal of injury to those who were present (much to Mio's dismay) and many boo's to the latest and supposedly greatest production Nadir had to offer. But that isn't to say that everything was all poppies and rainbows in Budehuc.

Apparently, Joker had engaged Caesar in a drinking contest somehow. That would have been frightening enough (Caesar was notoriously infamous for being unable to hold in his alcohol), but what made it terrifying was Hallec's insistence to be involved.

Thus, chaos.

Borus didn't know whether he would be glad that he wasn't going to stick around any longer. They were leaving this afternoon. He found himself surprisingly fond of Budehuc Castle and all of its inhabitants, and leaving was a startling pain. Nothing too interesting ever happened in Vinay del Zexay and less so in Brass Castle, but it was the price he had to pay to be a knight. Knights weren't supposed to grow attachments, anyway. But he found that he would enjoy coming back to the Lake Castle.

If there was one thing you could say about Budehuc, it was that it was never boring.

Just nerve-wrecking, teeth-grinding, unbearably anarchic, and occasionally painful.

But that was fine with Borus. He needed a few kicks, every now and then, whether they be taken figuratively or otherwise. Preferably figuratively.

He was sitting comfortably on the steps of the courtyard, watching Fubar sitting on his rump. The griffon was staring at a pair of dancing butterflies on its large yellow beak.

"Kuueeeeee..." the griffon muttered, glaring at the intruding insects. They ignored him, fluttering their wings in his eyes. Apparently, they hit a nerve somewhere, or maybe it was the powder that came off their wings—butterflies, after all, were somewhat milder relatives to the Chon-chon monsters.

Fubar sneezed violently, and this sent him careening into the wall, the dislodged feathers floating down gently. "Kueee..." the big griffon whined, spiral-eyed.

Borus sighed with resignation. He had grown fond of the big bag of feathers, but to be honest, the brave and majestic steed of the Fire Hero wasn't really that brave and majestic. Fubar was a born goofball, which, he supposed, was why Sergeant Joe and the griffon were frequently at par.

"Hey, Borus, why aren't you in the tavern with the rest of your lot?"

Borus glanced up and acknowledged the Karayan girl with a respectful nod. "Good day, Aila. I'm enjoying the last view I get of the courtyard of Budehuc. And getting myself roaring drunk before traveling has never been one of my goals in life."

Aila arched her finely drawn eyebrow. "You're leaving?"

Borus noted that there was no satisfaction in her expression.

Months ago, Aila would have been dancing on the roofs and gables of Budehuc if she knew the Zexens were leaving the Castle. Or maybe she would have been sharpening her arrows, readying herself for the Zexen hunt (^_______^,).

But months of fighting under the same banner had relaxed the holds her prejudices had on her and she had been able to coexist with the 'ironheads' in the castle the same way the knights had learned to esteem the 'barbarians' from the Grasslands.

He supposed it began when everyone learned that Hugo had forgiven Chris for Lulu's death. That was a pretty firm step towards mutual respect for both long-feuding sides. The deceased boy's mother, Luce, had also eventually learned to forgive the captain, which hastened the friendships between the two peoples.

It had taken Aila longer to accept the Zexens, but it eventually happened. She didn't go out of her way to be nice to them, but then again, she didn't go out of her way to deposit their arrow-riddled bodies in the nearest empty hole Twaiken had dug either.

In Borus' case, a peculiar camaraderie had sprung up between them. They were never overly friendly, but they didn't attempt a redo of what had happened in the street Vinay del Zexay (when Aila had attempted to send him to her 'spirits' early), and every now and then, they could be counted on to have a decent conversation without endangering anyone's health.

But only every now and then.

Borus nodded, grinning slightly at her. "This afternoon. So break out the ale caskets, and in your case, the soda bottles. We're withdrawing from the Castle—the Captain believes that it's about time we returned to get our punishment from the Council."

Aila looked skeptical. "You're still scraping the floor to those greedy politicians?" she scrunched up her nose.

"The life of a Zexen ironhead," Borus replied dryly. "You hold all the power among the citizens but you touch the sky the second the Council tells you to jump."

Aila's face took on a sneaky look. "The Council is not alone in having that power over you, it appears," she commented.

"Hmm?" Borus looked at her inquiringly. "Who else holds such influence? And why me in particular?"

"The Captain herself!" Aila proclaimed. "Lady Chris!"

Borus frowned, mulling over it. "Well, her power is only secondary to the Council, yes, but it extends over each and every knight in the legions she commands, so I suppose—."

The Karayan sighed exasperatedly. "I didn't mean it that way, Borus."

"Speak clearly, then," he snapped irritably. "How do you mean it?"

"Aren't you at her beck and call, Borus?" Aila declared dramatically. "Attending to her every whim? Worshipping the very floor she scuffs her iron-clad boots on?"

Borus looked at her blankly. "Excuse me?"

"You're in love with her, right?" she demanded. "Duh! Ironheads are so dumb. It's so obvious that you like Lady Chris."

LOVE?!?

"What are you talking about?" He gaped at her. "I'm NOT in love with her." He frowned suspiciously. "Have you been reading your comrade's trashy novels again, Aila?"

"Who, Ace?" she shook her head vehemently. "Not me. Keeping twenty feet away from what he calls the 'novel of the century.' I'm afraid to read what he's written." She shuddered. "I'm pretending illiteracy, so as not to bruise his writer's ego. Why?"

"You're spouting off nonsense." Borus speculated. "It must be all that soda you are so addicted to, then. You should lay off a little on it. Seven pints a day could rot your brain the same way tavern ale can. Take that Wan Fu fellow. I believe that he spends half his time lying prostrate on the floor in that storage room and the other half guzzling down gallons of wine and drink."

Aila shook her head. "First, you go around swooning over a lady, then next thing, you pretend it never even happened. I'll never bother attempting to understand you ironheads."

Borus smirked, deciding to turn the conversation around. "Not like you could, what with little reason and logic you barbarians have in your possession."

The Karayan girl flared up for a moment, then relaxed, grinning back at him. "I'll give you a first—I won't teach you a lesson about Karayan logic on the training grounds. You're leaving Budehuc and I think you deserve good memories." She stuck out her hand. "Truce?"

Borus tried to hide his surprise and skepticism as he nodded and shook her hand. "Truce. For now."

"All right then," Aila said in a business-like tone. "Now that that's over with, I can tell Hugo to get off my case. Have a good trip, Borus. Try not to be bowled over by the first Holly Shrub you run into—those needles you call swords can't do the same damage as a well-made dagger."

She laughed and began to walk away. She stopped suddenly and flinched, as though she remembered something. "Oh, yeah. Hugo is inviting you to the village, once it gets restored."

Borus thought of the village he had helped destroy and felt the familiar guilt tugging at him. He still remembered that day when he raised his sword against the innocent.

It was debated that the witch Sarah had placed a spell across everyone back then, causing battle frenzy and bloodlust, but the blood was still on Borus' hands. He closed his eyes briefly and opened them again. "...Why?"

Aila shrugged. "I dunno. He was mumbling something about 'new beginnings' so I assume that he wants to make peace." She grinned cheekily. "See you there."

Had she forgiven him? What about the rest of her kin?

Borus nodded. "I will do the best I can to visit."

The Karayan girl smiled at him. "You're not that much of an idiot, you know? But you should tell Chris how you feel. Things would work out well. You'd be so cute together, for a bunch of Zexens."

She spun on her heel and walked off, presumably to find some tavern that didn't know about her soda mania; Anne had kicked her out of her tavern after discovering that her supply of soda had run dry—Aila's doing, no doubt. No one else could water down eight whole barrels in one day without exploding.

The blonde knight sat there, pondering what the girl meant. Why did everyone seem to believe that he was attracted to the Lady Chris? She was a pretty woman, of course, but she was his Captain. You didn't form those kinds of personal relationships with your superior, unless you were in the mood for emotional chaos and potential joblessness.

But why him? Why was he singled out among his other knight companions? He knew he was only doing his duty, defending the honor of his captain and following her orders to the letter.

He was just being a good knight.

As he puzzled over it, reclining his elbows against the higher step behind him, Percival jauntily appeared on the steps leading into the courtyard from the fountain plaza. He looked cheerful, but there were strands of hay scattered randomly across his normally immaculate hair. His cheeks were tinged pink, but that was undoubtedly an effect of the wineskin he was swinging in his other hand, Borus believed. Percival hit his ale hard in the afternoon.

He spotted Borus and made his way over. "Hello, Borus!"

Borus nodded to him. "Percival," he said absently, still trying to figure out why everyone thought he was in love with his commander. It was ridiculous! A breach of propriety! He would never even think of—

"You look thoughtful," Percival observed, swinging down next to him with a loud clatter. "So I assume that you're not drunk."

Borus grunted, ignoring him.

Percival took a drink from the wineskin and swallowed loudly. "That's all right, I suppose. I forgot about you and your 'travel ethics'. Well, if you don't want to be any chattier, I'll be chatty for the both of us then."

"You'll fall off your horse if you drink before traveling the road," Borus replied vaguely. "Again."

"Me?" Percival looked shocked. "Fall off my horse?" He laughed loudly. "That, my dear friend, is impossible. My horses *never* throw me off. I couldn't fall off a horse if I tried. I couldn't fall off a horse if it was running like the Hounds of Hell were after it. I couldn't fall off a horse if—"

Borus peered at him. "It figures you wouldn't remember. You were roaring drunk at that time, lolling around on the horse. By the way," he added pointedly. "The horse was standing still."

"Me?" Percival repeated. "Drunk to the point of incapacitation?" He looked proud. "Prodigious of me, eh? Too bad I don't remember a single bit of it. But I doubt I'd fall off my horse—ask the lovely rancher here—she knows my worth." He smiled distantly.

Borus sighed. "I won't bother wondering why you're so proud of yourself."

"Would you like some wine?" Percival offered his wineskin. "There's still enough in here to get you singing with the rest of us louts." He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. "That Joker fellow's drowning the strategist back there—maybe you'd like to join in. Never too late."

Borus shook his head. "I can't trust myself to stay on a horse after swallowing a barrel of tavern ale. And I don't believe in drinking before roughing it out on the road. Travel ethics, remember?"

Borus may have been fond of wine, but it was more of collecting than drinking that caught his attention. He enjoyed a glass of fine wine as much as the next person, but collecting was more his passion than guzzling it down to wake up with a bad headache.

"Ah, yes," Percival mused and shook his head, sighing with mock pity. "I've forgotten that you were unlucky enough to gain morals there. But, hey. Your funeral," he drawled and drank again.

"No," Borus replied dryly. "Yours, I believe, at the rate you're going."

Percival laughed. "You must be in a really good mood today, Borus. That's the third joke you've cracked today. Excited to be going back home?" The Swordsman of Gale's eyes squinted suddenly and he shifted in his seat, rubbing the back of his neck. "Cursed armor's chafing me on the back," he grunted.

"Keep it on," Borus said inattentively. "It keeps your entrails where they belong during battle."

"And you expect we're going to encounter battle?" Percival demanded skeptically. "In Budehuc?" He grinned. "The closest thing we have to actual excitement here is when Kidd bursts in on Lady Lilly again, or when Landis takes it upon himself to cook everyone his...'special' sauce."

Borus paused, remembering, then, shuddering, decided not to. "I wouldn't call that excitement. Terror comes closer."

Nearby, the tavern door swung open and Caesar stumbled out, singing heartily a bawdy sailor song in a slurred voice and tripping on his own two feet. It was well-known that Caesar did not sing.

And now it was clear precisely why the young strategist never sung a note when he was sober.

Borus winced at the painful-sounding noise and watched as the bawling strategist staggered down the steps, presumably to go to the lake and dunk himself in for half a day to float downstream before the ducks fished him out.

"Now that would be excitement if he bothered to stay up and didn't pass out," Percival noted. "But other than these daily little events, nothing else of any interest happens around here."

Borus shrugged. "We'll be leaving soon, might as well get used to your armor again."

Percival sighed. "The life of a knight. Must we always keep fighting, whether it be a deranged mastermind or a village crook?" He seemed serious now.

"It's what we signed up for," Borus replied vaguely, returning to what Aila had said.

Why me? he wondered. Why was he pinned out all the time for being in love with the Captain? All the others acted the same...

"Maybe it's time for me to sign off..." Percival murmured pensively.

Borus didn't pay him much heed, still troubled, then turned sharply to him, realizing what his friend had said. "What?" he exclaimed. "Are you planning to leave the Knighthood?"

Percival didn't look surprised or offended. The expression on his face was thoughtful, rather. "I've been thinking about it for some time now, yes."

"Why?" Borus demanded. "What made you think of leaving?"

The Swordsman of Gale leaned back, taking another drink, face colored with wine. Borus watched the older man, waiting. Why did he want to leave? Was there something Borus was missing?

Percival finally answered. "I've done what I've set out to do—become a knight, help the needy, and everything else on that silly knight's code. Being chivalrous and wooing the ladies." He paused. "Saving the Grasslands from complete and utter annihilation was a bargain, though. Never expected that to come along. It certainly wasn't in the job description."

"Get to the point, Percival," Borus stated, confused why he wanted to leave.

The dark-haired man looked at him. "It's just a thought. I can't see myself gallivanting around the world in my old age, clanking around and administering justice to every scoundrel on the face of the continent. I'd be tending a field of crops, probably. I know I'll retire one day. Just wondered whether I should get a head start on the farmer thing." He made a face. "You have no idea how long it takes for carrots to grow."

"Don't retire now," Borus said firmly. "You'll miss out on all the fun." He stopped briefly and smirked. "However, I can't see you as a farmer, Percival. There are no gullible young ladies on the wheat field."

Percival turned red. "Ah, well, I could live without them." He paused. "Or at least one."

Borus snorted. "Or two. Or three." He grinned. "Or a whole harem."

"You, my friend, are wrong," Percival sniffed. "I can live without women." He grinned. "The fact is the other way around. Women cannot live without me. They cannot live their lives without me in them."

"That's funny. I seem to recall several ladies back in Vinay del Zexay—"

The tavern door slammed open again with much force and the two knights turned to see Hallec charge out, raving and definitely not sober.

"WWWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" the bear-like man roared. "I won! WAAAAH!!!!" And he promptly fell over, snoring.

Joker stumped out of the tavern and squinted at the prostrate warrior. "Snickles," the mercenary muttered, guffawing, and staggered back inside.

Whumph, whumph, whumph, whumph...

There was a panicked shriek. "Kuuuueeeee!!" Something large and white lumbered past them, bursting out from the stairs to the lake and speeding towards the plaza.

"Bright!!" someone yelled. Sharon and Futch emerged from the lakeside entrance as well, armed with soap, towels and brushes. "Come back here!!" Futch looked weary while Sharon's face was a picture of rage. Both of them were sopping wet.

"You need a bath, you big bozo!" Sharon shouted, running past the two knights, waving her cluttered arms angrily. "Stop being such a chicken!"

Futch followed, his face looking like he wished he was elsewhere, and the two Dragon Knights vanished down the town plaza.

A moment later, there was a terrified, "KUUUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!—SPLASH!" coming from the plaza. Several shrieks of terror and anger followed it, along with a puzzling, "Quaack!"

Borus blinked.

Caesar's voice drifted over the ruckus, still yodeling out painful notes incoherently. There was a splash, and he paused momentarily. "Hey…this is my fountain…if you want it, you're gonna have to fight for it…"

Caesar then trailed off and, judging by the snoring sounds coming from their direction, Borus assumed that he passed out.

"Kuee?"

"I knew he wouldn't last long," Percival sighed. "It was too much to hope for." He grinned. "Someone better go get Apple. She would hate to miss the chance to whack him upside the head."

"There you are!" came a hearty voice. They looked around and saw Leo striding through the mansion doors, followed by Roland, Salome, Chris and Louis. "What are you doing out here?"

Percival grinned at the man he considered as his older brother. "Making bets on how long it would take the strategist to pass out. I regret to say that Caesar disappointed us. Ah, well," he shrugged. "There's a first time for everything."

Chris looked at them, sighing. "Will you two ever grow up?"

Borus chided her. "Now, now, milady. I'm sure you know better than to ask Percival that question. It's a very delicate subject to those who haven't passed their puberty as yet."

Percival gave his friend an acerbic look. "I'm beginning to think that Borus was better being a stuffy pompous stick. Humor and Borus don't go together." He grinned evilly. "I'll take care of the cooking when we're on the road. You'd better watch out, my friend. I will make anything Landis does a walk in the park."

"You can't cook to save your life, Perce," Borus pointed out. "And you certainly can't cook anything that can end mine, either—just make me regret being stupid enough to eat anything you offer on a plate. Besides, I wouldn't eat anything you cooked—I'm not interested on ending my life with the stomachache of all stomachaches. A sword in the belly would suit me fine."

"So says the culinary master," Percival scoffed.

Borus looked at him, eyes wide with indignation at the provocation. "Hey! Just because you can't cook anything without setting anything within a hundred-meter radius on fire doesn't give you an excuse to be bitter that I can."

"Touchy, touchy. What else do you do in your spare time, aside from holing up in your wine cellar and gazing mindlessly at the bottles?"

Borus drew up resentfully, ready to defend himself when the captain stepped in, looking weary.

"Leave Borus alone, Percival," Chris said lightly. "You know that aside from Louis, Borus is the only one among us who can boil water without burning it. So unless you want to suffer cooking burned and tasteless food for the duration of our journey, I suggest you cease this conversation and go and get your horses ready."

Percival looked blinked—that hadn't occurred to him. "You make a mighty good point," he remarked. "All right, I'll go and make myself invisible now. With permission, of course," he added, looking at both Borus and Chris.

Borus stood as well. "I'll go with you. Someone has to protect you from making an ass of yourself to the horses." He paused. "Although a good kick up your rear might help you a little."

"Me?" Percival exclaimed, aghast. "I am never an ass to horses! And horses never would kick me! They love me too much."

"Like the ladies, I suppose?" Borus said dryly.

"Stop joking, Borus!" Percival whined. "It's not like you to possess a sense of humor. Your having a funny bone…it's not right. I'm supposed to be the smartass who everyone wants to hurl into a lake." He straightened. "I demand you go back to being your insufferably honorable and uptight, and notably un-humorous self! Be violent, Borus Redrum! Violent!"

Everyone stared blankly at Percival.

"Har, har, har," laughed a voice. "Stupid human. Talks more than a drugged Song Sprite. He's just as dumb, as well."

Percival drew himself up and focused his stare on Edge, who glared at his sword. "Excuse me?"

"You should learn to keep your opinions to yourself next time, Star Dragon Sword," Edge reproved the sword.

"Like that's ever gonna happen," retorted the sword. "No human ever made me shut up—not even that big hairy guy. I haven't shut up in a long time."

Edge sighed wearily. "Trust me. I know that. I know that all too well."

Borus rolled his eyes and grabbed Percival's arm. "Come on, Percival. Before you make another fool of yourself."

"Did you hear what that hunk of scrap metal just said?" Percival cried indignantly. "He called me a Song Sprite! And I never sing—not if I can help it!"

Borus winced at a particularly bad memory involving Percival singing and enraged Song Sprites, understanding what Percival meant. "I'm glad—you don't know how glad. My ears get a bad enough drumming from your tirades. Singing would be the end of me."

Hauling him off in the direction of Kathy's ranch, where their horses were, Borus tuned out the offended diatribe spouting off from his friend's mouth and concentrated on avoiding the melee the thrashing dragon was causing in the town square.

Coming down from the steps, Borus saw Futch and Sharon struggling to haul the distressed dragon from the fountain it was sharing with the snoring Silverburg.

Seeing this, Borus deduced that Bright wasn't afraid of the water, considering the fact that he was wading in it. Rather, he seemed to be trying to get away from the bar of soap Sharon was waving in her hand.

Maybe that was it.

"KUUUEEEEE!" Bright cried, when Sharon brought the soap down on his scaly hide.

It seemed that the two Dragon Knights decided the fountain was a good enough place to wash the cowardly reptile off.

"His other side, Futch!" Sharon exclaimed, scrubbing the scales furiously. "He's making a break for it!"

Futch, who wasn't all that enthusiastic about washing off the crazed dragon—as long as Bright could fly, Futch believed that he was fine, nodded tiredly, sprinting around the fountain to hold the dragon down.

But Bright saw his chance and spread his wings brilliantly. "KUUUUUUUUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!" he shrieked an ear-piercing war cry, stunning even the lengthy tirade pouring out of Percival's mouth (something about music critics and evil blacksmiths).

Futch and Sharon flinched slightly—they received the full brunt of the dragon's desperate scream. This was all Bright needed.

"Kueee!" he cried again and bounded out of the fountain, heading for the exit.

"Bright, you big coward!" Sharon roared. "Stop him!"

Cecile and Koroku, who were standing guard at the moment, wisely chose to ignore her demand, insightfully deciding instead to make way for the fleeing dragon.

"After him!" Sharon bellowed and tore down the walkway after Bright.

Futch just sat down on the side of the fountain, his head in his hands. "I'm going to have a talk with your mother about this obsession of yours…"

Caesar, who seemed to wake up for a brief moment, nodded sagely and replied in a profound-sounding voice, "Chickens." Then he promptly passed out again.

"Come on, Futch! He's getting away!"

"Caesar, what are you doing in the fountain?" It sounded like Apple. "Are you…drunk?"

Borus looked around and saw the other strategist standing at the steps, looking at the drowned man. Judging by the look on her face, Borus noted that Caesar needed all the help he could get and decided to leave before things got ugly.

Apple didn't look it, but she had a nasty left hook.

Hauling Percival behind him, Borus sprinted towards the ranch.

**********

I'm sorry. Really sorry. This was a horrid chapter.

And Caesar fans, this goes to you as well. I love Caesar, too, but I find it entertaining to get people out of character. You find out so many things from the alcohol-sodden.

Yes, I decided to let Borus know his way around the kitchen. Wouldn't that be so cute? He can cook! And imagine him wearing a frilly apron and waving around a spatula for lack of a sword…

Ookay. Not so cute. Just a little scary.

Redrum...that's 'murder' backwards, you know? Murder. Redrum. Does that mean anything? And Percival's Fraulein, right? But doesn't Fraulein mean 'miss' or 'lady' in German?