He couldn't help but notice the similarity in situation. It was very likely that Roen's Sultansworn compatriots were affiliated with Taeros in the same way that Roen herself was affiliated with him. Two sides of the law, each allied with a side of the lawless.Â
The Twelve, it seemed, had a sense of humour about the whole situation, to pit two sides of the same coin against one another.
Nero was doubtful, but he offered a shrug at the suggestion as he leaned back in his chair. "Agreed, then. Mayhaps we may yet squirm ourselves out of this misunderstanding before we are forced to become enemies." Still, he had to make preparations. There was the possibility that his plan would have to be altered to account for the Sultansworn. If they would not join him or at least refrain from interfering in his operations, they would have to be removed.
He leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows against the rough wood of the table. "If I am to meet them, then I would know about them. I saw some of them during the raid, and I am vaguely acquainted with Crofte, but the others I know not. Describe them to me."
The paladin picked at her fish, as if fidgeting. "You have met Ser Crofte, aye. She is the superior ranking Sworn of the three. Honorable. I have not known her to break her word."
That would be advantageous. Assuming Crofte's authority held true, if Nero could convince her, then the others would--hopefully--no longer be a factor, or at least fall in line enough to make their presence negligible. It would be naive to assume that she would acquiesce to the smuggler's reasoning so quickly, however.
Roen paused, eyeing the trout on her plate. "Then...there is Natalie." From her tone and mannerisms, Nero could only assume that there was some bad blood between them. The paladin began to cut into the fish more diligently. "She is ruthless. Goal driven. Will do whatever it takes to get things done." The paladin took another bite of her fish, the curling of her lip suggesting she was repressing a frown.
Ruthless. From Roen's description alone, the smuggler had a decent idea of what kind of person Natalie was, and who he would be dealing with. Suffice to say that she and him were more than likely birds of a feather. If Nero couldn't convince Crofte to keep her subordinate in line, they would inevitably be opposed to one another.
The grin that made its way across Nero's face was smug. "Seems the Sworns aren't all together in their methodology," he commented idly, a subtle challenge to Roen's image of her compatriots.Â
The paladin shook her head, chewing on a chunk of fish. "They are like oil and water. Crofte and Natalie."
Nero folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. "You understand that this Natalie and I will most likely enter in conflict? She will attack whatever her Monetarist handlers point her to. And I will not suffer such thugs tarnishing that particularly shiny uniform the Sworns have." He put the tankard to his lips and drained the remaining rum from it, signalling the Miqo'te for a refill. The waitress swiftly swept away his plate and tankard.
His gaze narrowed at Roen. "Dogs like she and I must be put down early, lest they become rabid. From your description of her, I can guarantee that she is thinking the same thoughts as I on the matter."
"She is not handled by the Monetarists," Roen responded quickly. Nero raised a skeptical eyebrow; that was a quick defense. He wondered if her insistence on Natalie's supposed integrity was for his sake or for her own. The paladin's expression became somewhat alarmed.
"Neither of you have to...become dogs. Or become rabid. You two can reason to the same goal," she said quietly.
Nero's face twitched in an effort to keep the scowl from his face. The Miqo'te returned with a filled mug, and the smuggler slipped her several more coins. "Then I will assume she considers Taeros to be a necessary evil, just as you consider myself as such." He couldn't help but grin.Â
"What an amusing situation. Two noble and righteous paladins, each siccing their animals on the other. It makes a good story, I must admit." Nero's appetite for rum had been satiated, but he pretended to drink from his tankard to hide his gaze from Roen.
"If that is the way you want to see it," her voice came from the other side of the tankard. "I do not think you are just...someone or something to sicc on an enemy." Perhaps Nero was just imagining it, but her voice sounded stiff, almost tremulous. He put his mug down.
Roen's gaze was focused directly on him. "I thought we were allies. That we were to help each other."
Nero sighed, considering his words carefully. His face shed his amused facade like a snake shed its skin. For only the second time since they met, his expression had taken on one of brutal honesty. "Roen," he began sternly. The smuggler leaned forward, taking a deep breath.
"You do not know me. You do not know what I have done, and what I will do. You do not know to what extremes I will go to, for the sake of something I believe to be greater than myself. For the sake of a better Ul'dah." Nero's icy blue eyes had become steely and firm.
"I told you once before that I will drown this city in blood if that was what was required to change it, and my resolve since then has not wavered. I hold no illusions. What I have done, and what I will do, is evil. But it must be done. I will not inhabit the new Ul'dah I seek to create."
Nero looked weary. "For myself and anyone like me...there is no place for us there."
The Twelve, it seemed, had a sense of humour about the whole situation, to pit two sides of the same coin against one another.
Nero was doubtful, but he offered a shrug at the suggestion as he leaned back in his chair. "Agreed, then. Mayhaps we may yet squirm ourselves out of this misunderstanding before we are forced to become enemies." Still, he had to make preparations. There was the possibility that his plan would have to be altered to account for the Sultansworn. If they would not join him or at least refrain from interfering in his operations, they would have to be removed.
He leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows against the rough wood of the table. "If I am to meet them, then I would know about them. I saw some of them during the raid, and I am vaguely acquainted with Crofte, but the others I know not. Describe them to me."
The paladin picked at her fish, as if fidgeting. "You have met Ser Crofte, aye. She is the superior ranking Sworn of the three. Honorable. I have not known her to break her word."
That would be advantageous. Assuming Crofte's authority held true, if Nero could convince her, then the others would--hopefully--no longer be a factor, or at least fall in line enough to make their presence negligible. It would be naive to assume that she would acquiesce to the smuggler's reasoning so quickly, however.
Roen paused, eyeing the trout on her plate. "Then...there is Natalie." From her tone and mannerisms, Nero could only assume that there was some bad blood between them. The paladin began to cut into the fish more diligently. "She is ruthless. Goal driven. Will do whatever it takes to get things done." The paladin took another bite of her fish, the curling of her lip suggesting she was repressing a frown.
Ruthless. From Roen's description alone, the smuggler had a decent idea of what kind of person Natalie was, and who he would be dealing with. Suffice to say that she and him were more than likely birds of a feather. If Nero couldn't convince Crofte to keep her subordinate in line, they would inevitably be opposed to one another.
The grin that made its way across Nero's face was smug. "Seems the Sworns aren't all together in their methodology," he commented idly, a subtle challenge to Roen's image of her compatriots.Â
The paladin shook her head, chewing on a chunk of fish. "They are like oil and water. Crofte and Natalie."
Nero folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. "You understand that this Natalie and I will most likely enter in conflict? She will attack whatever her Monetarist handlers point her to. And I will not suffer such thugs tarnishing that particularly shiny uniform the Sworns have." He put the tankard to his lips and drained the remaining rum from it, signalling the Miqo'te for a refill. The waitress swiftly swept away his plate and tankard.
His gaze narrowed at Roen. "Dogs like she and I must be put down early, lest they become rabid. From your description of her, I can guarantee that she is thinking the same thoughts as I on the matter."
"She is not handled by the Monetarists," Roen responded quickly. Nero raised a skeptical eyebrow; that was a quick defense. He wondered if her insistence on Natalie's supposed integrity was for his sake or for her own. The paladin's expression became somewhat alarmed.
"Neither of you have to...become dogs. Or become rabid. You two can reason to the same goal," she said quietly.
Nero's face twitched in an effort to keep the scowl from his face. The Miqo'te returned with a filled mug, and the smuggler slipped her several more coins. "Then I will assume she considers Taeros to be a necessary evil, just as you consider myself as such." He couldn't help but grin.Â
"What an amusing situation. Two noble and righteous paladins, each siccing their animals on the other. It makes a good story, I must admit." Nero's appetite for rum had been satiated, but he pretended to drink from his tankard to hide his gaze from Roen.
"If that is the way you want to see it," her voice came from the other side of the tankard. "I do not think you are just...someone or something to sicc on an enemy." Perhaps Nero was just imagining it, but her voice sounded stiff, almost tremulous. He put his mug down.
Roen's gaze was focused directly on him. "I thought we were allies. That we were to help each other."
Nero sighed, considering his words carefully. His face shed his amused facade like a snake shed its skin. For only the second time since they met, his expression had taken on one of brutal honesty. "Roen," he began sternly. The smuggler leaned forward, taking a deep breath.
"You do not know me. You do not know what I have done, and what I will do. You do not know to what extremes I will go to, for the sake of something I believe to be greater than myself. For the sake of a better Ul'dah." Nero's icy blue eyes had become steely and firm.
"I told you once before that I will drown this city in blood if that was what was required to change it, and my resolve since then has not wavered. I hold no illusions. What I have done, and what I will do, is evil. But it must be done. I will not inhabit the new Ul'dah I seek to create."
Nero looked weary. "For myself and anyone like me...there is no place for us there."
