In an inn within the Nyverion Empire:

"It's been a long time since we last saw each other," said the old man, his face etched with deep wrinkles and battle scars that spoke of years lived and battles fought.

Leon remained silent, his gaze fixed on the flickering candlelight that danced on the table between them.

"Where have you been all this time?" the old man continued, his voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and concern. "I thought... I thought that if no one had heard from you in so long, perhaps you had met your end somewhere."

Leon's silence persisted, a heavy weight hanging between them.

"Old man" Leon finally said, his voice soft yet laden with contemplation. He paused, searching for the right words. "What do you think freedom truly is? How can someone achieve freedom if they are trapped in a cycle dictated by fate?"

Borak's eyes narrowed, his brow furrowing in thought. "Hmm? Freedom, you say? Don't you already possess freedom? You were once the strongest youth in our empire. I would wager that if all seven churches from every empire were to unite against you, you would defeat them effortlessly. And as for fate, what nonsense! There is no such thing as fate. Our decisions cannot all be predetermined."

Leon leaned back in his chair, the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him. "Old man, what if I told you that everything we do, every choice we make, is already set in stone? Our deaths, the people we will meet, the ones we might love. What if we are in a world that doesn't allow for freedom? What if our world is simply..."

THUD—

Borak's fist struck the table with a force that made the wooden surface shudder. The noise of the punch echoed through the quiet inn, drawing the attention of nearby patrons.

"What nonsense is this?" Borak's voice thundered with frustration. "Have you lost your mind? Where have you been all these years for you to come back speaking such foolishness?"

Leon's eyes fell to the spilled tea, now pooling around the broken table. The liquid formed a small lake on the floor, reflecting the dim light of the inn.

After a tense moment, Borak took a deep breath, attempting to regain his composure. "We'll have to arrange for a new table."

They both rose from their seats, and Borak signaled for the waiter. After a brief discussion and payment for the damage, they moved to a fresh table, the old one cleared away. 

As they settled back the atmosphere between them was charged with unspoken tension.