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Roen held the small vial up to the candlelight. The white liquid within was opaque and it left a light coating on the glass as she tilted it slightly this way and that.
"Milkweed milk. Packed in crates of grain - I know not the purpose of the grain, feed for all I know."
Verad Bellveil had given her the small vial a few suns ago, after his raid on the second warehouse. He had found the illegal drug hidden within the crates, along with some Ishgardian luxuries and Dravanian relics, according to the duskwight merchant.
"And...Sergeant Melkire was there as well?"
"Gift-wrapped and hand-delivered to the man. A false alarm regarding a fire in the warehouse attracted his attention."
Roen set the vial back down onto the desk, her eyes going to the central marketplace of the Silver Bazaar. Her rented room was small, but the window that looked out over the courtyard lent the illusion of airiness. Cool desert night winds wafted through the thin curtains that billowed with their caress.
The paladin leaned back in her chair, releasing a long sigh as she looked up at the full moon shining above. How long had she been staying out of Ul’dah now?
Ser Crofte had warned her of Natalie’s intentions, but to draw the attention away from Nero’s efforts in Limsa Lominsa, Roen had returned to Thanalan and made herself known once more in the Jewel. Now the trick was to be known to be in the desert...and to do it without being caught.
‘An accomplice to a criminal and self-avowed privateer, which in any tongue means pirate,’ Natalie would reason for her arrest. Roen still scowled when she thought of their conversation at the Bismarck.
With a sharp inhale and a shake of her head, the paladin dismissed those memories, pushing off the chair to study the single parchment on the table again: the list of the warehouses that belonged to Jameson Taeros. She had procured this list from Broken Nose, who had produced it simply by way of knowing which Blades worked in their off time for the Monetarist noble--as well as where they pulled their guard duty. He listed three of the most well-guarded warehouses and had given it to Roen, who in turn had given a copy to the duskwight merchant of dubious goods.
Apprehension stirred within her chest whenever she thought of Mister Bellveil’s involvement in the Monetarist affairs. Why did she ask him? Was it not enough that he had helped her since that fateful rainy day in Limsa Lominsa? She remembered how lost she had felt then, having been brought to La Noscea by Gharen after being rescued from Itar’s clutches. The distant memories of the emptiness she had carried brought a lingering ache to her chest even now, moons past.
The eccentric duskwight--with his bombastic jokes and strange fascination with all things considered worthless--had somehow coaxed her out of her darkness. His unconventional ways had often caught her off-guard; his offering of wisdom hidden within his facetious mannerisms then held her attention. She had not known then that he had lent her a rope to draw her out of the mire of hopelessness; in trying to understand his oddities, she had grasped onto it and slowly pulled herself out.
Roen wondered if she had thanked Mister Bellveil for it, along with the many others who had helped her back then.
Now she had a new purpose. She was standing up against the Monetarists, targeting one in particular. Jameson Taeros had many connections and many powerful friends, and was now even using Natalie to do his bidding: executing Daegsatz, hunting Nero, and even pursuing her to get to the pirate. All the while, Taeros strolled through the streets of Ul’dah, carrying about his business, spreading wealth and influence to those who already had it in bounty, and bleeding it from those who had none.
Would this help Nero’s efforts to choke off the wealth to the Monetarists? Jameson Taeros was but one of many corrupted and greedy nobles of Ul’dah. But Taeros was the one orchestrating the forces that were hunting Nero. Roen was convinced that he was the one who somehow convinced Natalie to execute Nero’s First Mate.
The paladin hoped that if she could turn the focus back onto Taeros in his own home, that perhaps some attention can be taken off of Nero and brought back to Thanalan. So that Nero can do what he must do, and Roen could ensure some measure of safety and freedom for the pirate.
But at what expense? Was she putting someone like Mister Bellveil at risk? She was already asking for aid from those she should not have--those who had no stake in this. Mister Bellveil, Mister North, even Shaelen. But she did ask them and it weighed on her even now, to contemplate putting certain people at risk, although some were more capable than others.
She had tried to talk the merchant out of his plans to continue to look into Taeros’ warehouse; poking at the beehive enough times, one was bound to get stung. But Mister Bellveil refused.
She had asked him why he was so adamant about helping her.
"There needs to be at least one person - just one - in your life, who you can trust. Someone you can implicitly know will not betray you, will aid you where possible. I remember you speaking about your betrayal. And, in that, I thought, 'At least one fixed point in the aether. That's all. Just something she can rely on when she needs it'."
His earnest words had made her speechless.
"And that's...fine. It is. It was. When all I could do was talk, and lift your spirits, I was happy for it. There's nothing wrong with that and if I did not know certain things thanks to the Grindstone, well - that is what I would continue to do. But there's more I can do, now. We know this. There may be even more I can do in the future. Knowing that, it behooves me to try."
Roen could do naught but peer up at the duskwight then, openly shocked, and touched by his sincerity and compassion.
"But - the way I see it, I am on the periphery. I'm your ally, not a central figure. I can be the resource that comes through when you need it most." Roen recalled the wide grin that split the merchant’s face. "I can be your very own plot device. And I've never had to sell myself!" He paused dramatically before adding, "Yet."
"You are...my own plot device." Roen had replied softly.
"You see? You just get in a pinch, and think, 'But of course! We can call upon Verad!' And I'll be sure to arrive at a dramatically appropriate time and do something critical."
Roen found herself staring back out into the night, looking out over the Silver Bazaar. Despite the worries she had for his safety, she could not deny the twinkle in his eye when he spoke of the fun he had in outwitting and outrunning his enemies, and the comfort she took in the friendship Mister Bellveil had offered. She could not deny her fondness for the man, and how she craved his wisdom whenever she felt lost or conflicted.
She almost wished she was raised to believe in the gods, for she would say a prayer for his safety, and the safety of all she cared for. As she stood and blew out the candle on the desk, she recalled the last of the words they exchanged.
"So! There you have it. You will not break from your ideals. Ideals I find noble. Ideals that the world will try to break. Why should you not have a fixed point?"
She remembered smiling, finally. "I would have no other, Mister Bellveil."
"Milkweed milk. Packed in crates of grain - I know not the purpose of the grain, feed for all I know."
Verad Bellveil had given her the small vial a few suns ago, after his raid on the second warehouse. He had found the illegal drug hidden within the crates, along with some Ishgardian luxuries and Dravanian relics, according to the duskwight merchant.
"And...Sergeant Melkire was there as well?"
"Gift-wrapped and hand-delivered to the man. A false alarm regarding a fire in the warehouse attracted his attention."
Roen set the vial back down onto the desk, her eyes going to the central marketplace of the Silver Bazaar. Her rented room was small, but the window that looked out over the courtyard lent the illusion of airiness. Cool desert night winds wafted through the thin curtains that billowed with their caress.
The paladin leaned back in her chair, releasing a long sigh as she looked up at the full moon shining above. How long had she been staying out of Ul’dah now?
Ser Crofte had warned her of Natalie’s intentions, but to draw the attention away from Nero’s efforts in Limsa Lominsa, Roen had returned to Thanalan and made herself known once more in the Jewel. Now the trick was to be known to be in the desert...and to do it without being caught.
‘An accomplice to a criminal and self-avowed privateer, which in any tongue means pirate,’ Natalie would reason for her arrest. Roen still scowled when she thought of their conversation at the Bismarck.
With a sharp inhale and a shake of her head, the paladin dismissed those memories, pushing off the chair to study the single parchment on the table again: the list of the warehouses that belonged to Jameson Taeros. She had procured this list from Broken Nose, who had produced it simply by way of knowing which Blades worked in their off time for the Monetarist noble--as well as where they pulled their guard duty. He listed three of the most well-guarded warehouses and had given it to Roen, who in turn had given a copy to the duskwight merchant of dubious goods.
Apprehension stirred within her chest whenever she thought of Mister Bellveil’s involvement in the Monetarist affairs. Why did she ask him? Was it not enough that he had helped her since that fateful rainy day in Limsa Lominsa? She remembered how lost she had felt then, having been brought to La Noscea by Gharen after being rescued from Itar’s clutches. The distant memories of the emptiness she had carried brought a lingering ache to her chest even now, moons past.
The eccentric duskwight--with his bombastic jokes and strange fascination with all things considered worthless--had somehow coaxed her out of her darkness. His unconventional ways had often caught her off-guard; his offering of wisdom hidden within his facetious mannerisms then held her attention. She had not known then that he had lent her a rope to draw her out of the mire of hopelessness; in trying to understand his oddities, she had grasped onto it and slowly pulled herself out.
Roen wondered if she had thanked Mister Bellveil for it, along with the many others who had helped her back then.
Now she had a new purpose. She was standing up against the Monetarists, targeting one in particular. Jameson Taeros had many connections and many powerful friends, and was now even using Natalie to do his bidding: executing Daegsatz, hunting Nero, and even pursuing her to get to the pirate. All the while, Taeros strolled through the streets of Ul’dah, carrying about his business, spreading wealth and influence to those who already had it in bounty, and bleeding it from those who had none.
Would this help Nero’s efforts to choke off the wealth to the Monetarists? Jameson Taeros was but one of many corrupted and greedy nobles of Ul’dah. But Taeros was the one orchestrating the forces that were hunting Nero. Roen was convinced that he was the one who somehow convinced Natalie to execute Nero’s First Mate.
The paladin hoped that if she could turn the focus back onto Taeros in his own home, that perhaps some attention can be taken off of Nero and brought back to Thanalan. So that Nero can do what he must do, and Roen could ensure some measure of safety and freedom for the pirate.
But at what expense? Was she putting someone like Mister Bellveil at risk? She was already asking for aid from those she should not have--those who had no stake in this. Mister Bellveil, Mister North, even Shaelen. But she did ask them and it weighed on her even now, to contemplate putting certain people at risk, although some were more capable than others.
She had tried to talk the merchant out of his plans to continue to look into Taeros’ warehouse; poking at the beehive enough times, one was bound to get stung. But Mister Bellveil refused.
She had asked him why he was so adamant about helping her.
"There needs to be at least one person - just one - in your life, who you can trust. Someone you can implicitly know will not betray you, will aid you where possible. I remember you speaking about your betrayal. And, in that, I thought, 'At least one fixed point in the aether. That's all. Just something she can rely on when she needs it'."
His earnest words had made her speechless.
"And that's...fine. It is. It was. When all I could do was talk, and lift your spirits, I was happy for it. There's nothing wrong with that and if I did not know certain things thanks to the Grindstone, well - that is what I would continue to do. But there's more I can do, now. We know this. There may be even more I can do in the future. Knowing that, it behooves me to try."
Roen could do naught but peer up at the duskwight then, openly shocked, and touched by his sincerity and compassion.
"But - the way I see it, I am on the periphery. I'm your ally, not a central figure. I can be the resource that comes through when you need it most." Roen recalled the wide grin that split the merchant’s face. "I can be your very own plot device. And I've never had to sell myself!" He paused dramatically before adding, "Yet."
"You are...my own plot device." Roen had replied softly.
"You see? You just get in a pinch, and think, 'But of course! We can call upon Verad!' And I'll be sure to arrive at a dramatically appropriate time and do something critical."
Roen found herself staring back out into the night, looking out over the Silver Bazaar. Despite the worries she had for his safety, she could not deny the twinkle in his eye when he spoke of the fun he had in outwitting and outrunning his enemies, and the comfort she took in the friendship Mister Bellveil had offered. She could not deny her fondness for the man, and how she craved his wisdom whenever she felt lost or conflicted.
She almost wished she was raised to believe in the gods, for she would say a prayer for his safety, and the safety of all she cared for. As she stood and blew out the candle on the desk, she recalled the last of the words they exchanged.
"So! There you have it. You will not break from your ideals. Ideals I find noble. Ideals that the world will try to break. Why should you not have a fixed point?"
She remembered smiling, finally. "I would have no other, Mister Bellveil."