"Five men sat at a table, five men sat in shadows. Five men sat at a table, in empty halls once hallowed."
It had been, once, a shrine to a god. Who that once was they couldn't say, couldn't know, so dilapidated was the facility. All that was left of what it had been were the arches that rose a respectable length into the air, the columns and the pews that lined the length of the church. All the windows that had lined the walls were shattered, tiny bits and shards of mosaic glass lining the floors at the edges of the room, sunlight spilling in from the outside. Any carvings or paintings, anything that would have indicated to what god this place had once been committed, were now gone.
They were five, all lesser members of that group that rules the city of Ul'dah, the Syndicate. Behind the mask of the caliphate, they operated from the shadows, running the city's government, its civil and military actions. They protected their public wealth through aggressive and shrewd business decisions, and their illicit wealth through any means necessary... including murder and extortion. The wealth of these men had not been built entirely on good business practices alone. Yet, for all their success, they were under a shadow, a pall that had been cast upon them some ten years before. The shadow of the Maestro.
"We recently had a wholesale slaughter of some of our enforcers and lower managers," said the fat, engorged man named Paulio the Ruby. "The Maestro came on his own this time, instead of sending his men. I suppose he was looking to send a personal message."
The thin, intellectual Adarack nodded. "Yes. If he were anyone else I'd say we strike back, but... I believe we're all aware that, should he make public what he knows of our underground affairs, we'd be lost men in this city. We don't have the weight in the Syndicate to sway them to protect us, and we'd be left to the dogs."
Paulio pointed aside, to the richest of them, Viktor Korenza, a man who had been around for some time. His hair was gray, and of them all, he was the only to have any significant pull in the Syndicate's upper echelons. "Viktor, here, brought up an interesting point. An unexpected twist, you might say. Viktor?"
"Of course," he replied, his accent thick though romantic. "It seems that recently there has been a sighting, of an old friend. You may not know him, as I was only a young man myself when he was an enforcer of the Syndicate. He was the best, you might say."
Carpaza the Grim, a worried and tired looking man, shook his head. "We've sent the best for Maestro. They've all been left hanging upside down in the streets, their intestines stinking to high heaven."
"Not like this man, not like this. This man was a fighter, a gladiator before he ever became one of the Syndicate's enforcers. He'd lived years surviving in the desert and fighting far more vicious creatures than men. When he departed we lost track of him for decades, until we heard rumor he was in the employ of the empire. He later came to our attention with the come of the Primals. Now, once again, he has appeared, this time in Limsa Lominsa. However, we have reason to believe he's coming here, and it is my belief that it is to settle out his debt with us. I think we can make an arrangement with him, so long as he agrees to track down the Maestro."
Carpaza again did not look convinced, his long face breaking downwards in a frown. "Forty years ago? You say you were a boy when he was fighting in our arenas, and now you want to tell us that this man, who must be... what, fifty? Sixty? Now you want to convince us that he is the one we should invest in bringing down a monster like the Maestro?" He scoffed, his arms folding as he tilted back in his chair. "I think not."
"I understand your reluctance, Carpaza," Viktor said with a nod, pointing to the light coming in from the windows. "Many suns have come and gone since those days. However, my spies have tracked him, have seen him in the rare moments when he has removed his mask. The man looks not a day older than when he left from this city." He stopped, a thin smirk sliding across his face. "I think that should be intriguing of its own. Of importance to us, though, is that he may be the one we need to finally end the Maestro's madness."
The brooding, black skinned Othello the Bright grunted, eyes looking downwards onto the surface of the table. "If you decide to utilize him, it is your investment, not ours."
Viktor's eyes slowly crossed the table, turning onto Othello, though the man did not return the gaze. "I see Othello. Then, I put up the money, and take the risk. After that, if my agent is victorious, you reap the spoils as well? How is that a wise deal for me?"
"I pledge up front money to compensate you should he win," Othello said, voice still low, eyes still on the wooden table before him. "However, I shall have it set aside with the Syndicate's brokers, to be paid when the deed is done. How does that work for you?"
"Quite well, actually," Viktor said, a wide grin spreading on his face. "Do the rest of you men agree?"
He paused only a minute as the others nodded their consent. "Well then, gentlemen," Viktor said after receiving their approval, "I shall contact him first thing when he arrives in the city."
Paulio raised a hand, glancing at his friend. "Viktor, you've not actually told us the man's name?"
"Ah, of course," Viktor said, returning Paulio's stare. "In my time, he went by the name Amal Shachat. Today, he calls himself Sin."
It had been, once, a shrine to a god. Who that once was they couldn't say, couldn't know, so dilapidated was the facility. All that was left of what it had been were the arches that rose a respectable length into the air, the columns and the pews that lined the length of the church. All the windows that had lined the walls were shattered, tiny bits and shards of mosaic glass lining the floors at the edges of the room, sunlight spilling in from the outside. Any carvings or paintings, anything that would have indicated to what god this place had once been committed, were now gone.
They were five, all lesser members of that group that rules the city of Ul'dah, the Syndicate. Behind the mask of the caliphate, they operated from the shadows, running the city's government, its civil and military actions. They protected their public wealth through aggressive and shrewd business decisions, and their illicit wealth through any means necessary... including murder and extortion. The wealth of these men had not been built entirely on good business practices alone. Yet, for all their success, they were under a shadow, a pall that had been cast upon them some ten years before. The shadow of the Maestro.
"We recently had a wholesale slaughter of some of our enforcers and lower managers," said the fat, engorged man named Paulio the Ruby. "The Maestro came on his own this time, instead of sending his men. I suppose he was looking to send a personal message."
The thin, intellectual Adarack nodded. "Yes. If he were anyone else I'd say we strike back, but... I believe we're all aware that, should he make public what he knows of our underground affairs, we'd be lost men in this city. We don't have the weight in the Syndicate to sway them to protect us, and we'd be left to the dogs."
Paulio pointed aside, to the richest of them, Viktor Korenza, a man who had been around for some time. His hair was gray, and of them all, he was the only to have any significant pull in the Syndicate's upper echelons. "Viktor, here, brought up an interesting point. An unexpected twist, you might say. Viktor?"
"Of course," he replied, his accent thick though romantic. "It seems that recently there has been a sighting, of an old friend. You may not know him, as I was only a young man myself when he was an enforcer of the Syndicate. He was the best, you might say."
Carpaza the Grim, a worried and tired looking man, shook his head. "We've sent the best for Maestro. They've all been left hanging upside down in the streets, their intestines stinking to high heaven."
"Not like this man, not like this. This man was a fighter, a gladiator before he ever became one of the Syndicate's enforcers. He'd lived years surviving in the desert and fighting far more vicious creatures than men. When he departed we lost track of him for decades, until we heard rumor he was in the employ of the empire. He later came to our attention with the come of the Primals. Now, once again, he has appeared, this time in Limsa Lominsa. However, we have reason to believe he's coming here, and it is my belief that it is to settle out his debt with us. I think we can make an arrangement with him, so long as he agrees to track down the Maestro."
Carpaza again did not look convinced, his long face breaking downwards in a frown. "Forty years ago? You say you were a boy when he was fighting in our arenas, and now you want to tell us that this man, who must be... what, fifty? Sixty? Now you want to convince us that he is the one we should invest in bringing down a monster like the Maestro?" He scoffed, his arms folding as he tilted back in his chair. "I think not."
"I understand your reluctance, Carpaza," Viktor said with a nod, pointing to the light coming in from the windows. "Many suns have come and gone since those days. However, my spies have tracked him, have seen him in the rare moments when he has removed his mask. The man looks not a day older than when he left from this city." He stopped, a thin smirk sliding across his face. "I think that should be intriguing of its own. Of importance to us, though, is that he may be the one we need to finally end the Maestro's madness."
The brooding, black skinned Othello the Bright grunted, eyes looking downwards onto the surface of the table. "If you decide to utilize him, it is your investment, not ours."
Viktor's eyes slowly crossed the table, turning onto Othello, though the man did not return the gaze. "I see Othello. Then, I put up the money, and take the risk. After that, if my agent is victorious, you reap the spoils as well? How is that a wise deal for me?"
"I pledge up front money to compensate you should he win," Othello said, voice still low, eyes still on the wooden table before him. "However, I shall have it set aside with the Syndicate's brokers, to be paid when the deed is done. How does that work for you?"
"Quite well, actually," Viktor said, a wide grin spreading on his face. "Do the rest of you men agree?"
He paused only a minute as the others nodded their consent. "Well then, gentlemen," Viktor said after receiving their approval, "I shall contact him first thing when he arrives in the city."
Paulio raised a hand, glancing at his friend. "Viktor, you've not actually told us the man's name?"
"Ah, of course," Viktor said, returning Paulio's stare. "In my time, he went by the name Amal Shachat. Today, he calls himself Sin."