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'Ace', is a Limsan Information Broker and Underworld figure, who aided Aya during the Merchant, Marine plot. Â He's a childhood friend of Aya's during her brief time in Limsa Lominsa as a refugee. (here and here) Â This post is he and Aya discussing the events of the plot, and their conclusion.
"Ah, good, you made it."
Aya smiled to her old friend, 'Ace' as he's now known. Â She'd approached him from the right, his good side. Â The recognizable smile put her at ease.
For him, the hooded woman was still a welcome sight. Â Though, ostensibly, she obscured herself behind a cloak, she had a manner of revealing nearly everything else in her effort to avoid recognition. Â The short skirt, the thigh-high, sharply heeled boots that emphasized shapely legs. Â The open bodice that invited and tempted, rather than deflected attention. Â For those who knew her it was impossible to not recognize her - and maybe that was the point.
"Of course," she answered with a breathy softness. Â The Ishgardian accent upon her tongue still struck him with strangeness. Â When they had been friends in childhood it was an altogether different accent that graced her voice. Â It still took some getting used to.
"I couldn't disappoint an old friend could I?"
He let out an amused breath of his own, a smile curling upon the good half of his face despite his best efforts to restrain his emotion. Â "I didn't imagine you would."
She stepped up to the railing, stopping beside him before turning her eyes toward the inky blackness of the sea. Â Gentle swells lapped against the pillars of stone all around them. Â
She very casually dipped her fingers into her open bodice. Â Nowhere could provide surer keeping for a valuable gift: out she drew a small, thin rectangle tin several ilms across, offering it to him.
He furrowed his brow, one good eye focused on the unexpected, though familiar item as she held it his way. "Go on." She added, a smirk drawing across her carmined lips.
With a moment's hesitation he reached for the proffered gift, turning it for examination. It took a moment, but the smile of recognition that he offered was exactly what she'd hoped to see.
"Well, this is a fine 'thank you', isn't it." He grinned, clicking the tin open with his fingers. Â With deft fingers he drew out the paper-wrapped cylinder and quickly flicked it below his nostrils, breathing in deeply the fragrance of the smokeweed.
"The finest available, if I understand correctly." Â She grinned out to sea.
"The Emperor himself has no finer smoke." Â Purred the Miqo'te with satisfaction. Â With the cigarette squeezed between two fingers he offered the smoke back to Aya, "I'll share, you know." Â
She demurred with the raise of her hand, "I have my own vices, mon ami. Â This one's for you."
He laughed, sliding the tin into a coat pocket before fishing out his auto-lighter. Â "Where'd you get these?" He asked, with his lips pressed together.
"Escrow and Sons. Â I'd saved them for just such an occasion." Â Her grin, still directed out to the sea, grew ever brighter. Â
"Mighty fine, mighty fine." He replied with some admiration, before lighting the smoke and drawing in. Â "One hell of a 'thank you'," he repeated himself with immense gratification. Â
She chuckled lightly, keeping her enigmatic gaze upon the sea. Â She had a way of projecting contemplation - an expression that belied the shallow and careless persona she normally adopted. Â
He took in another breath, letting it out with a sigh of fulfillment.
"What do you think?" She finally asked in a soft tone.
"Think?" He eschewed, glancing her way before lowering himself down, elbows resting on the railing against which they stood. Â "Think about what?"
"All of this." Â She answered softly, he knew exactly what she meant, but her lack of specificity still irked him. Â "All that's happened these past few weeks. Â Everything since Leeds."
He nodded, idly flicking the ashes off the end of the precious cigarette -- off into the brine lapping below their feet. Â "Ah."
There was a pause while he enjoyed the smoke for a few moments more. Â No sound intruded upon them except the lulling sea and the muted preparations of a Maelstrom vessel docked in the near distance.
"Not much." Â He finally answered, lips wrapped around the smoke. "Not much at all, I think. Â The entire affair could have been scripted."
"Scripted?" She finally turned her eyes toward him. Â His good eye met hers as he offered an almost imperceptible nod. "Aye. Â You know pirates: short-sighted, only after their next share of loot, and hatin' to let anyone else tell them what to do more than anything else. Â The Maelstrom's only pirates in better uniforms." Â He pulled the smoke away from his lips, turning his eyes out toward the readying ship.
"Those mutineers are no different than the rest, really. Â Don't like being told what to do, and filled with nostalgia."
"Nostalgia?" She asked with a hint of confusion - though she'd recognized the sentiment in her very first contact with the Gloam-bound privateers, she'd never heard it upon another's lips.
"Aye. Â They remember how they thought it was when they were young. Â Or have been told." Â He waved his free hand out toward the ocean, "Before all of this. Â When the sea seemed free, at least to them who didn't know better."
He grimaced, a bit, "O' course it was ne'er like that. They just don't know any better. Â Thought they could ha'e it all again. Â That they could find somewhere they'd never have to listen to anyone else again."
She nodded, "I think you're right. Â They're not happy with how things are. They'd rather face their problems their own way. Â On one hand, they want to escape those who feel they can tell them what to do, on the other hand they're running from responsibilities to anyone other than themselves. Â They're just looking for a place to call their own, to live life as they wish. Â But that's never as easy as it sounds."
He offered her a side-long glance, "O' course, you know, 'venturers are the same as pirates, right? Â They tend to chase a different booty, that's all. Â They also don't see the day after tomorrow, and can't stand it when someone tell's 'em what they've got to do."
She listened. She knew better than to think that she could disagree with that sentiment.
"So, you put all these sorts together. Â Pirates seekin' booty or freedom. Â Adventure's all the same. And an avaricious Empire with its own to gain. Â And what do you get?" He gestured with his hand, "Lots o' mates tellin' each other how they got to do it. Â And none of 'em listenin'. Â The strongest and cleverest win, at least temporarily. Â And 'ere we are again. Its the Limsan way, ever been so." Â He nodded with some satisfaction. "Like one of those show-plays I hear you did, aye?" Â
He turned his good eye upon her as she listened, "So you don't think it could have gone any other way?"
"Oh, it could have gone many ways. Â But it'd only have been a difference o' degrees. Â Nothin's really changed. Â All a bunch of noise and ruckus makin' for no end. Â Maybe it'd have been worse to have a Garlean island out there, but it'd be a problem for the Maelstrom more than us."
"About the Maelstrom, what about all the trouble they had? The riots, the court martials and all? Â You don't think any of that's going to matter?" She asked, eyes fixed on the preparing ship.
"Well. Â The Maelstrom: they were just a bunch of pirates. Â They're still just a bunch of pirates. Â All that's different is they're smarter than they used to be: they decide things by figurin' out who'd win the fight, rather than actually killin' each other. Â Saves a lot of wasted effort and ships and makes the Admiral look like a genius."
He waved his hand, "And, yeah, tension with the Foreign Levy, right? Â But here's the thing: they never really did trust the Foreign Levy. Â Always a thorn in their side, just a necessary thorn. Â I don't think that's changin'. Â They're willin' to shame one of their own to keep the Levy happy, but that's about as far as they'll go."
"What Captain Hellfist and the other Privateers?"
"I don't know, really. Â She's just another dead pirate. Â I mean, what do you want? Â You tell someone pirate's get into trouble, and the Syndicate's wicked, and they're already gonna know exactly what you mean. Â How's this been any different?" He let out a dark laugh, "Hell, if the Captain had known what was going to happen she'd probably have done the same damn thing. Â Pirates are proud like that. Â And as long as the Maelstrom can keep them in line, nothin' changes. Â So far, so good. Â Probably all the better for Limsa, in the end. Â We've got more than enough problems as is."
"How did you know about the Syndicate?" She asked with surprise.
He laughed, "You don't give me much credit, do you? Â Not like its hard to figure out. Â Just think about the circumstance, its obvious whose interest it was in. Â S'imba had nothin' to gain, really. Â And as we seen, he's no ally of the Maelstrom. Â If anythin' I wager he was on Hellfist's side. Â I'd have liked to seen the looks on his eyes when they accused 'im of killin' her!"
She focused on him with narrowed eyes. Â He'd peeled the onion with surprising deftness. Â She thought about delving further, but instead shifted the question again, "And what about Gloam?" she asked.
"What about it?" He repeated. Â "Its a pirate haven. Â There been dozens of them before. Â The Maelstrom put an end to most, turned 'em into bases for their own operations when they brought the pirates to heel. This one's just a place out of time. Â And it'll end jes' the same."
"Yeah? Â How's that?" Â She asked, unsure of exactly what he meant.
"They'll draw attention. Â Bringing in even more pirates who don't like bein' told what to do. Â But, in the end, there's only one way to settle things: the strongest get their way. Â They'll fight, with each other, with others. Power will shift one way then another. Â Finally, they'll piss someone off too much, be it Maelstrom or Garlemald, and they'll be snuffed out 'afore anyone even knows what's happenin'."
"You think they're doomed?" She asked; he felt a pang of sympathy in her blue-eyed gaze. Â
"What can I say? Â They don't have many options do they? Â Survive raidin' eastern independents? Â Even then the Empire will get tired of it eventually. Â Can't raid Eorzean vessels, can't raid Garlean without invitin' another expedition. Â The Empire, o'course, learns its lessons well. Â This time there won't be any question o' the result."
She nodded, letting out a breath, perhaps he was right. Â "Even if they don't, I wonder what we've really gained in Gloam..."
"Good question. Â Places like that aren't really as nice as they sound at first. Â They're only as nice as the strongest gun-arm lets them be. Â That's the way with pirates, always been. Â All those idealistic paeans you 'eard were just that. Â They can't survive in reality. Â They talk about 'freedom' as if they could find any such thing out there. Â Squeezed between the Maelstrom and the Empire, with no one but the biggest guns to decide what's right. Â That's no freedom, not really."
"I know you're right about that... " She'd never really liked pirates. She could respect many of their desires, their valor, and bravery. But at the end of the day, they were people who survived through pure violence. Â Violence against each other, and violence to prey upon those weaker than them. Â Its why she'd chosen not to live among them.
"The damned thing is that they've already forgotten the lessons Limsa Lominsa learned the hard way." He added with the flick of the cigarette, "The Maelstrom didn't come out of nowhere. Â Its an adaption to changing times. Â The old ways are dead for a reason, and there ain't no revivin' 'em. Â A bunch of besotted pirates can't fight against reality, can't fight and win, at least."
She sighed, hanging her head momentarily.  "I know... I'd always wondered what their end game was.  I was sure they'd never give up their Garlean protection, where can they go now?  It is hopeless isn't  it..."
He nodded. Â Its obvious she'd cared about the cause - or, perhaps, not so much the cause, as those who had fought for it. Â "That's just the damned thing isn't it. Â To 'ave any real sense of freedom, they'd have had to give it all up. Â Lose-lose. Â Better to die trying, which I guess is what ol' Slaeglac did in the end. Â Just went better than he'd expected." Â He bit his good lip for a moment while looking for a way to change her depressed tone, "Still, it was somethin' at least to beat a Garlean squadron. Â They'll be lickin' their wounds for a while."
"Of course..." She nodded very slightly, lowering her gaze. Â "The trouble is that it means the Empire won't underestimate the Maelstrom next time."
"O' course," he nodded in agreement. Â "That's truth, and I'm sure you know what it means." She nodded in agreement before he continued, "We've given away the element of surprise in exchange for respite, for a near-worthless little island. Â Not perhaps the best play for the Maelstrom"
"Its not worthless to those there, at least..." she countered, thinking of the Osric, Leanne, and others who'd rallied to the cause of those on the island. Â "And in the end, they did stand up to the Empire."
"Truth again. Â And in full honesty, it ain't exactly worthless, except when lookin' at it from the Admiral's perspective. Â Someone out there's makin' a pretty penny off it, no doubt. Â Its gonna be a growin' concern for some time. Â And whoever's makin' the pennies is a clever one, I'd wager. He's not puttin' many back into it."
He nodded to himself, "There's your real winner, if you were lookin' for one."
She just watched the sea. Â "No doubt..." Â she stated in a distant, soft voice, while her mind wandered to Edda and her father. Â
"O' course there are other winners. In Limsa, no one's goin' to remember a riot a week later. Â But, reputations 'ave a way of stickin'. And more than a few 'ave been made and lost 'ere. Â Slaeglac's name is near legend, can't say how long that will last, but that's a man who won't have to pay for his own rum for a while. Â Seems there are a few other Officers who've earned themselves promotion too. Â That Holkstymm, for example. Â Word is he's gonna found some new Maelstrom judicial branch, or somethin'. Â I don't know if I care for that, pirates is still pirates in the end."
"And, a few others have lost theirs, I doubt its necessary for me ta mention the names, but they're out there on the streets."
She knew just who he meant. Her thoughts wandered to Anstarra, Yheli, and others. For some it wasn't so much that they'd lose their standing with the Maelstrom, as the Maelstrom had lost its standing with them. Zanzan, Khunbish - and no doubt more who would never look upon their membership in the Levy quite the same way, if they did not resign it completely.
"Those are the sorts of things that stick with us - effect the future in ways no one can know yet. Â That'll wind up mattering more than Gloam, I'm sure."
She looked at him, curious, if unconvinced. Â
"And, o' course..." he turned to her, a direct gaze she couldn't help but return, "There are a couple of sailors alive who wouldn't have been otherwise. Â That's somethin', aye?"
A smile played over her lips, she could see the old friend she remembered - in there somewhere beneath that cynical crust of an exterior.
"It is..." she readily agreed, thankful to think of something more positive.
"Savin' those that didn't have to die. Â That's something to take home with you and put in your pipe for a good smoke." Â He turned back to the sea, nodding. Â "Maybe it'll mean even more someday. Â Depends what the lads do now, I wager."
"We can hope."
"Aye... if hope's worth having'." Â He seemed unconvinced, and paused for a moment as he enjoyed the quickly dwindling cigarette. Â
"That reminds me, there's also a certain Miqo'te privateer that made fool of himself several times over. Â He and that mate of his, 'Troublemaker', 'Problemsolver', whatever it is." Â He flicked his eyes toward her with a hint of accusation, as if he knew of her friendship with S'imba and Osric, and her time on the Sultana's Revenge.
She turned her eyes back toward him. Â "That's somethin' likely to stick for a while too. Â More bad, than good, for him I'd wager."
"Speakin' o' the 'Revenge'," he started, "I heard a strange rumor. Â The crew's sayin' they had some sort of blonde goddess aboard out at Gloam." Â He offered a brief glance her way, as he knocked the ash off his nearly finished smoke. Â "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"
She turned to him, lips slightly parted as she avoided a straight answer. Â He flicked the bud of his cigarette into the briny deep.
"That's what I thought." He stated with a laugh while pushing back from the railing. Â Turning to walk away he waved an empty hand back to her, "I'd stay far away from Gloam if I were you. Â There aren't enough real goddesses to go around, as is."
She sighed. Â That was that then...
"Ah, good, you made it."
Aya smiled to her old friend, 'Ace' as he's now known. Â She'd approached him from the right, his good side. Â The recognizable smile put her at ease.
For him, the hooded woman was still a welcome sight. Â Though, ostensibly, she obscured herself behind a cloak, she had a manner of revealing nearly everything else in her effort to avoid recognition. Â The short skirt, the thigh-high, sharply heeled boots that emphasized shapely legs. Â The open bodice that invited and tempted, rather than deflected attention. Â For those who knew her it was impossible to not recognize her - and maybe that was the point.
"Of course," she answered with a breathy softness. Â The Ishgardian accent upon her tongue still struck him with strangeness. Â When they had been friends in childhood it was an altogether different accent that graced her voice. Â It still took some getting used to.
"I couldn't disappoint an old friend could I?"
He let out an amused breath of his own, a smile curling upon the good half of his face despite his best efforts to restrain his emotion. Â "I didn't imagine you would."
She stepped up to the railing, stopping beside him before turning her eyes toward the inky blackness of the sea. Â Gentle swells lapped against the pillars of stone all around them. Â
She very casually dipped her fingers into her open bodice. Â Nowhere could provide surer keeping for a valuable gift: out she drew a small, thin rectangle tin several ilms across, offering it to him.
He furrowed his brow, one good eye focused on the unexpected, though familiar item as she held it his way. "Go on." She added, a smirk drawing across her carmined lips.
With a moment's hesitation he reached for the proffered gift, turning it for examination. It took a moment, but the smile of recognition that he offered was exactly what she'd hoped to see.
"Well, this is a fine 'thank you', isn't it." He grinned, clicking the tin open with his fingers. Â With deft fingers he drew out the paper-wrapped cylinder and quickly flicked it below his nostrils, breathing in deeply the fragrance of the smokeweed.
"The finest available, if I understand correctly." Â She grinned out to sea.
"The Emperor himself has no finer smoke." Â Purred the Miqo'te with satisfaction. Â With the cigarette squeezed between two fingers he offered the smoke back to Aya, "I'll share, you know." Â
She demurred with the raise of her hand, "I have my own vices, mon ami. Â This one's for you."
He laughed, sliding the tin into a coat pocket before fishing out his auto-lighter. Â "Where'd you get these?" He asked, with his lips pressed together.
"Escrow and Sons. Â I'd saved them for just such an occasion." Â Her grin, still directed out to the sea, grew ever brighter. Â
"Mighty fine, mighty fine." He replied with some admiration, before lighting the smoke and drawing in. Â "One hell of a 'thank you'," he repeated himself with immense gratification. Â
She chuckled lightly, keeping her enigmatic gaze upon the sea. Â She had a way of projecting contemplation - an expression that belied the shallow and careless persona she normally adopted. Â
He took in another breath, letting it out with a sigh of fulfillment.
"What do you think?" She finally asked in a soft tone.
"Think?" He eschewed, glancing her way before lowering himself down, elbows resting on the railing against which they stood. Â "Think about what?"
"All of this." Â She answered softly, he knew exactly what she meant, but her lack of specificity still irked him. Â "All that's happened these past few weeks. Â Everything since Leeds."
He nodded, idly flicking the ashes off the end of the precious cigarette -- off into the brine lapping below their feet. Â "Ah."
There was a pause while he enjoyed the smoke for a few moments more. Â No sound intruded upon them except the lulling sea and the muted preparations of a Maelstrom vessel docked in the near distance.
"Not much." Â He finally answered, lips wrapped around the smoke. "Not much at all, I think. Â The entire affair could have been scripted."
"Scripted?" She finally turned her eyes toward him. Â His good eye met hers as he offered an almost imperceptible nod. "Aye. Â You know pirates: short-sighted, only after their next share of loot, and hatin' to let anyone else tell them what to do more than anything else. Â The Maelstrom's only pirates in better uniforms." Â He pulled the smoke away from his lips, turning his eyes out toward the readying ship.
"Those mutineers are no different than the rest, really. Â Don't like being told what to do, and filled with nostalgia."
"Nostalgia?" She asked with a hint of confusion - though she'd recognized the sentiment in her very first contact with the Gloam-bound privateers, she'd never heard it upon another's lips.
"Aye. Â They remember how they thought it was when they were young. Â Or have been told." Â He waved his free hand out toward the ocean, "Before all of this. Â When the sea seemed free, at least to them who didn't know better."
He grimaced, a bit, "O' course it was ne'er like that. They just don't know any better. Â Thought they could ha'e it all again. Â That they could find somewhere they'd never have to listen to anyone else again."
She nodded, "I think you're right. Â They're not happy with how things are. They'd rather face their problems their own way. Â On one hand, they want to escape those who feel they can tell them what to do, on the other hand they're running from responsibilities to anyone other than themselves. Â They're just looking for a place to call their own, to live life as they wish. Â But that's never as easy as it sounds."
He offered her a side-long glance, "O' course, you know, 'venturers are the same as pirates, right? Â They tend to chase a different booty, that's all. Â They also don't see the day after tomorrow, and can't stand it when someone tell's 'em what they've got to do."
She listened. She knew better than to think that she could disagree with that sentiment.
"So, you put all these sorts together. Â Pirates seekin' booty or freedom. Â Adventure's all the same. And an avaricious Empire with its own to gain. Â And what do you get?" He gestured with his hand, "Lots o' mates tellin' each other how they got to do it. Â And none of 'em listenin'. Â The strongest and cleverest win, at least temporarily. Â And 'ere we are again. Its the Limsan way, ever been so." Â He nodded with some satisfaction. "Like one of those show-plays I hear you did, aye?" Â
He turned his good eye upon her as she listened, "So you don't think it could have gone any other way?"
"Oh, it could have gone many ways. Â But it'd only have been a difference o' degrees. Â Nothin's really changed. Â All a bunch of noise and ruckus makin' for no end. Â Maybe it'd have been worse to have a Garlean island out there, but it'd be a problem for the Maelstrom more than us."
"About the Maelstrom, what about all the trouble they had? The riots, the court martials and all? Â You don't think any of that's going to matter?" She asked, eyes fixed on the preparing ship.
"Well. Â The Maelstrom: they were just a bunch of pirates. Â They're still just a bunch of pirates. Â All that's different is they're smarter than they used to be: they decide things by figurin' out who'd win the fight, rather than actually killin' each other. Â Saves a lot of wasted effort and ships and makes the Admiral look like a genius."
He waved his hand, "And, yeah, tension with the Foreign Levy, right? Â But here's the thing: they never really did trust the Foreign Levy. Â Always a thorn in their side, just a necessary thorn. Â I don't think that's changin'. Â They're willin' to shame one of their own to keep the Levy happy, but that's about as far as they'll go."
"What Captain Hellfist and the other Privateers?"
"I don't know, really. Â She's just another dead pirate. Â I mean, what do you want? Â You tell someone pirate's get into trouble, and the Syndicate's wicked, and they're already gonna know exactly what you mean. Â How's this been any different?" He let out a dark laugh, "Hell, if the Captain had known what was going to happen she'd probably have done the same damn thing. Â Pirates are proud like that. Â And as long as the Maelstrom can keep them in line, nothin' changes. Â So far, so good. Â Probably all the better for Limsa, in the end. Â We've got more than enough problems as is."
"How did you know about the Syndicate?" She asked with surprise.
He laughed, "You don't give me much credit, do you? Â Not like its hard to figure out. Â Just think about the circumstance, its obvious whose interest it was in. Â S'imba had nothin' to gain, really. Â And as we seen, he's no ally of the Maelstrom. Â If anythin' I wager he was on Hellfist's side. Â I'd have liked to seen the looks on his eyes when they accused 'im of killin' her!"
She focused on him with narrowed eyes. Â He'd peeled the onion with surprising deftness. Â She thought about delving further, but instead shifted the question again, "And what about Gloam?" she asked.
"What about it?" He repeated. Â "Its a pirate haven. Â There been dozens of them before. Â The Maelstrom put an end to most, turned 'em into bases for their own operations when they brought the pirates to heel. This one's just a place out of time. Â And it'll end jes' the same."
"Yeah? Â How's that?" Â She asked, unsure of exactly what he meant.
"They'll draw attention. Â Bringing in even more pirates who don't like bein' told what to do. Â But, in the end, there's only one way to settle things: the strongest get their way. Â They'll fight, with each other, with others. Power will shift one way then another. Â Finally, they'll piss someone off too much, be it Maelstrom or Garlemald, and they'll be snuffed out 'afore anyone even knows what's happenin'."
"You think they're doomed?" She asked; he felt a pang of sympathy in her blue-eyed gaze. Â
"What can I say? Â They don't have many options do they? Â Survive raidin' eastern independents? Â Even then the Empire will get tired of it eventually. Â Can't raid Eorzean vessels, can't raid Garlean without invitin' another expedition. Â The Empire, o'course, learns its lessons well. Â This time there won't be any question o' the result."
She nodded, letting out a breath, perhaps he was right. Â "Even if they don't, I wonder what we've really gained in Gloam..."
"Good question. Â Places like that aren't really as nice as they sound at first. Â They're only as nice as the strongest gun-arm lets them be. Â That's the way with pirates, always been. Â All those idealistic paeans you 'eard were just that. Â They can't survive in reality. Â They talk about 'freedom' as if they could find any such thing out there. Â Squeezed between the Maelstrom and the Empire, with no one but the biggest guns to decide what's right. Â That's no freedom, not really."
"I know you're right about that... " She'd never really liked pirates. She could respect many of their desires, their valor, and bravery. But at the end of the day, they were people who survived through pure violence. Â Violence against each other, and violence to prey upon those weaker than them. Â Its why she'd chosen not to live among them.
"The damned thing is that they've already forgotten the lessons Limsa Lominsa learned the hard way." He added with the flick of the cigarette, "The Maelstrom didn't come out of nowhere. Â Its an adaption to changing times. Â The old ways are dead for a reason, and there ain't no revivin' 'em. Â A bunch of besotted pirates can't fight against reality, can't fight and win, at least."
She sighed, hanging her head momentarily.  "I know... I'd always wondered what their end game was.  I was sure they'd never give up their Garlean protection, where can they go now?  It is hopeless isn't  it..."
He nodded. Â Its obvious she'd cared about the cause - or, perhaps, not so much the cause, as those who had fought for it. Â "That's just the damned thing isn't it. Â To 'ave any real sense of freedom, they'd have had to give it all up. Â Lose-lose. Â Better to die trying, which I guess is what ol' Slaeglac did in the end. Â Just went better than he'd expected." Â He bit his good lip for a moment while looking for a way to change her depressed tone, "Still, it was somethin' at least to beat a Garlean squadron. Â They'll be lickin' their wounds for a while."
"Of course..." She nodded very slightly, lowering her gaze. Â "The trouble is that it means the Empire won't underestimate the Maelstrom next time."
"O' course," he nodded in agreement. Â "That's truth, and I'm sure you know what it means." She nodded in agreement before he continued, "We've given away the element of surprise in exchange for respite, for a near-worthless little island. Â Not perhaps the best play for the Maelstrom"
"Its not worthless to those there, at least..." she countered, thinking of the Osric, Leanne, and others who'd rallied to the cause of those on the island. Â "And in the end, they did stand up to the Empire."
"Truth again. Â And in full honesty, it ain't exactly worthless, except when lookin' at it from the Admiral's perspective. Â Someone out there's makin' a pretty penny off it, no doubt. Â Its gonna be a growin' concern for some time. Â And whoever's makin' the pennies is a clever one, I'd wager. He's not puttin' many back into it."
He nodded to himself, "There's your real winner, if you were lookin' for one."
She just watched the sea. Â "No doubt..." Â she stated in a distant, soft voice, while her mind wandered to Edda and her father. Â
"O' course there are other winners. In Limsa, no one's goin' to remember a riot a week later. Â But, reputations 'ave a way of stickin'. And more than a few 'ave been made and lost 'ere. Â Slaeglac's name is near legend, can't say how long that will last, but that's a man who won't have to pay for his own rum for a while. Â Seems there are a few other Officers who've earned themselves promotion too. Â That Holkstymm, for example. Â Word is he's gonna found some new Maelstrom judicial branch, or somethin'. Â I don't know if I care for that, pirates is still pirates in the end."
"And, a few others have lost theirs, I doubt its necessary for me ta mention the names, but they're out there on the streets."
She knew just who he meant. Her thoughts wandered to Anstarra, Yheli, and others. For some it wasn't so much that they'd lose their standing with the Maelstrom, as the Maelstrom had lost its standing with them. Zanzan, Khunbish - and no doubt more who would never look upon their membership in the Levy quite the same way, if they did not resign it completely.
"Those are the sorts of things that stick with us - effect the future in ways no one can know yet. Â That'll wind up mattering more than Gloam, I'm sure."
She looked at him, curious, if unconvinced. Â
"And, o' course..." he turned to her, a direct gaze she couldn't help but return, "There are a couple of sailors alive who wouldn't have been otherwise. Â That's somethin', aye?"
A smile played over her lips, she could see the old friend she remembered - in there somewhere beneath that cynical crust of an exterior.
"It is..." she readily agreed, thankful to think of something more positive.
"Savin' those that didn't have to die. Â That's something to take home with you and put in your pipe for a good smoke." Â He turned back to the sea, nodding. Â "Maybe it'll mean even more someday. Â Depends what the lads do now, I wager."
"We can hope."
"Aye... if hope's worth having'." Â He seemed unconvinced, and paused for a moment as he enjoyed the quickly dwindling cigarette. Â
"That reminds me, there's also a certain Miqo'te privateer that made fool of himself several times over. Â He and that mate of his, 'Troublemaker', 'Problemsolver', whatever it is." Â He flicked his eyes toward her with a hint of accusation, as if he knew of her friendship with S'imba and Osric, and her time on the Sultana's Revenge.
She turned her eyes back toward him. Â "That's somethin' likely to stick for a while too. Â More bad, than good, for him I'd wager."
"Speakin' o' the 'Revenge'," he started, "I heard a strange rumor. Â The crew's sayin' they had some sort of blonde goddess aboard out at Gloam." Â He offered a brief glance her way, as he knocked the ash off his nearly finished smoke. Â "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"
She turned to him, lips slightly parted as she avoided a straight answer. Â He flicked the bud of his cigarette into the briny deep.
"That's what I thought." He stated with a laugh while pushing back from the railing. Â Turning to walk away he waved an empty hand back to her, "I'd stay far away from Gloam if I were you. Â There aren't enough real goddesses to go around, as is."
She sighed. Â That was that then...
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