“You are naive.â€
Those were the words Nero had said to her, that first day when they had met. “Your idealism will hamper you.†He had met her eyes squarely. “Sooner or later, you will be forced into a position where you must discard justice. Where you must discard righteousness. Justice is an idea. It works in a world of ideas…but not in our world.â€
"Your world, Mister Lazarov. I hope to see more light in mine." Roen had refused to accept his broken principles.
“I commit injustice. I commit my evils, I break the law, for the sake of correcting that which the law itself cannot repair.†His icy-blue gaze had been sharp, gleaming with ambition. She remembered it well. “You speak of giving Ul’dah hope. I would be one of those who grant it hope. But I will do so my way.â€
Even back then, Roen had seen the ruthlessness in his eyes, the darkness that lay beneath the surface. And yet…
She believed there was something more. She refused to believe that she saw only what she wanted to see.
“Should the Twelve deem it so, I will take all of that city’s evils and mirror them," Nero had spat back at her. "I will become what that city had always intended for me to be.†Nero clenched his fists, so driven was he in his conviction. Then he turned to her, his intensity seemingly dissolving, if just for a moment.
“But I need not be alone in this dream, Miss…Roen.†He said quietly as he extended his gloved hand to her.
“I will accept your aid, and I will grant you mine. Though we may not agree on the how...we can at least agree on what must be done.â€
Two breaths passed between them, before the paladin took his hand. “I will help you achieve this dream, for the Jewel's sake," she had said to him, and she looked straight into his eyes. "But I will not help you spill blood.â€
“And I would not have you do such,†Nero replied sternly with a nod. He released her hand after that long moment.
It was just before he departed that he shared one more thing. “I may not believe in your justice, Roen…but I would not begrudge seeing it as the victor.â€
Roen had believed him then. She had also believed in herself, that she was right about the man beneath the mask. The smuggler was ambitious--perhaps even consumed by his need to achieve the ends he sought at all cost. And the only way he knew how to reach those goals was through violence. But she believed that there was a side to him that hoped for another way--a side that wanted another way.
“...What if I prove you wrong?â€
The paladin felt the blood drain from her face as she stared at the lifeless body on the ground. The man was a bandit--that much Roen could gather from his armor and the sword that lay near him--but he had been incapacitated. He was helpless when Nero slammed him back to the ground and snapped the back of his neck. The smuggler had done it without any hesitation. His demeanor, his expression--they exuded arrogance, with even a touch of disdain. Roen stared at the pirate, appalled, as if seeing him for the first time.
"So I take it everything went well then," Nero even gave her his usual smirk when he saw her.
No words would come from her lips, at least not readily. Roen shook her head slightly as her eyes roamed over the rest of the bodies near the entrance to the mine. Another man lay twitching nearby--a Roegadyn, his armor also showing scorch marks. Purple electricity sparked sporadically from his chainmail, sending the man into short bouts of convulsions. She also spotted a motionless Miqo’te some distance away, shards of glassy ice protruding from her feline, armored form. The third body lay near where Roen stood, lifeless; a crimson pool of blood quickly grew from where his neck had been cut.
Roen's nostrils flared as she finally glanced back to the cliff where she had seen the Brass Blade fall to his death after being burnt by a fireball. “I will not help you spill blood.†Her own words echoed again from her memory.
Roen shot Nero a dark look, words of righteous anger burning on the tip of her tongue. But a passing call from down below cut through her heated thoughts. Roen went quickly to the edge; miners were milling about down below, drawn by the sound of the fireball's detonation. It was only a matter of time. Wrinkling her nose with obvious displeasure, Roen went to the smuggler and the collection of boxes there.
“I had taken care of the other two Brass Blades, but the third that you burnt and sent over the cliff is drawing more attention than any other ever could,†the paladin said in a biting tone. “And these bodies…†Her eyes flitted about the scene of violence. “Once they are discovered, more Brass Blades, or even the Immortal Flames will be called upon.†She gestured to the pile of boxes he was standing over with a flick of her head. “Are those the supplies for the refugees?â€
The paladin shot him a glare that would brook no argument. “Because we need to go. Now.â€
Those were the words Nero had said to her, that first day when they had met. “Your idealism will hamper you.†He had met her eyes squarely. “Sooner or later, you will be forced into a position where you must discard justice. Where you must discard righteousness. Justice is an idea. It works in a world of ideas…but not in our world.â€
"Your world, Mister Lazarov. I hope to see more light in mine." Roen had refused to accept his broken principles.
“I commit injustice. I commit my evils, I break the law, for the sake of correcting that which the law itself cannot repair.†His icy-blue gaze had been sharp, gleaming with ambition. She remembered it well. “You speak of giving Ul’dah hope. I would be one of those who grant it hope. But I will do so my way.â€
Even back then, Roen had seen the ruthlessness in his eyes, the darkness that lay beneath the surface. And yet…
She believed there was something more. She refused to believe that she saw only what she wanted to see.
“Should the Twelve deem it so, I will take all of that city’s evils and mirror them," Nero had spat back at her. "I will become what that city had always intended for me to be.†Nero clenched his fists, so driven was he in his conviction. Then he turned to her, his intensity seemingly dissolving, if just for a moment.
“But I need not be alone in this dream, Miss…Roen.†He said quietly as he extended his gloved hand to her.
“I will accept your aid, and I will grant you mine. Though we may not agree on the how...we can at least agree on what must be done.â€
Two breaths passed between them, before the paladin took his hand. “I will help you achieve this dream, for the Jewel's sake," she had said to him, and she looked straight into his eyes. "But I will not help you spill blood.â€
“And I would not have you do such,†Nero replied sternly with a nod. He released her hand after that long moment.
It was just before he departed that he shared one more thing. “I may not believe in your justice, Roen…but I would not begrudge seeing it as the victor.â€
Roen had believed him then. She had also believed in herself, that she was right about the man beneath the mask. The smuggler was ambitious--perhaps even consumed by his need to achieve the ends he sought at all cost. And the only way he knew how to reach those goals was through violence. But she believed that there was a side to him that hoped for another way--a side that wanted another way.
“...What if I prove you wrong?â€
The paladin felt the blood drain from her face as she stared at the lifeless body on the ground. The man was a bandit--that much Roen could gather from his armor and the sword that lay near him--but he had been incapacitated. He was helpless when Nero slammed him back to the ground and snapped the back of his neck. The smuggler had done it without any hesitation. His demeanor, his expression--they exuded arrogance, with even a touch of disdain. Roen stared at the pirate, appalled, as if seeing him for the first time.
"So I take it everything went well then," Nero even gave her his usual smirk when he saw her.
No words would come from her lips, at least not readily. Roen shook her head slightly as her eyes roamed over the rest of the bodies near the entrance to the mine. Another man lay twitching nearby--a Roegadyn, his armor also showing scorch marks. Purple electricity sparked sporadically from his chainmail, sending the man into short bouts of convulsions. She also spotted a motionless Miqo’te some distance away, shards of glassy ice protruding from her feline, armored form. The third body lay near where Roen stood, lifeless; a crimson pool of blood quickly grew from where his neck had been cut.
Roen's nostrils flared as she finally glanced back to the cliff where she had seen the Brass Blade fall to his death after being burnt by a fireball. “I will not help you spill blood.†Her own words echoed again from her memory.
Roen shot Nero a dark look, words of righteous anger burning on the tip of her tongue. But a passing call from down below cut through her heated thoughts. Roen went quickly to the edge; miners were milling about down below, drawn by the sound of the fireball's detonation. It was only a matter of time. Wrinkling her nose with obvious displeasure, Roen went to the smuggler and the collection of boxes there.
“I had taken care of the other two Brass Blades, but the third that you burnt and sent over the cliff is drawing more attention than any other ever could,†the paladin said in a biting tone. “And these bodies…†Her eyes flitted about the scene of violence. “Once they are discovered, more Brass Blades, or even the Immortal Flames will be called upon.†She gestured to the pile of boxes he was standing over with a flick of her head. “Are those the supplies for the refugees?â€
The paladin shot him a glare that would brook no argument. “Because we need to go. Now.â€
