The ride from the Nanawa Mines to the refugee camps at Lost Hope was quiet and uneventful. Both the paladin and the smuggler did their best to keep a low profile as they left; Roen saw in the distance a crowd starting to gather near the dead Brass Blade. Roen did not see neither Louvel nor Raffe, but she knew it was inevitable that they would be called to the scene.
With such clear evidence of violence at the entrance of the mines, even if it pointed to an armed assault involving blades and thaumaturgy, would they think to suspect her involvement?
Only time would tell. Roen knew there were risks when she had gotten involved in this--in all of this.
Nero had remained silent as well. He was busy checking on some crates loaded behind them, while she steered the chocobo up front. As the smuggler was hidden within the canvas of the wagon, as far as any onlookers were concerned, Roen had come and gone by herself.
When they entered the refugee camps, none cared about their arrival. The sick and the poor could not see beyond their own suffering, their gaze downcast, their spirits nigh broken. Roen and Nero guided the wagon to the caves towards the back, where the smuggler could finally slip out unseen. It was only after they had unloaded the supplies that Nero broke the heavy silence between them.
"Alright. Go for it. Lecture away. I'm a brutal monster who kills out of fun, blah blah." He waved into the air vaguely as he sauntered over to the crates to inspect them. "I can see the look on your face. You look like I just kicked your mother."
Roen felt her smoldering resentment flare back to life at his blatant nonchalance. “Are you? Someone who kills out of fun?â€
"Killing is an inexorable part of the life I lead.†The smuggler shrugged. “I can either choose to hate myself for it, or I can choose to accept its presence and take some manner of relief in the act." He paused in his task to shoot her a glance. "I don't necessarily relish it, but that doesn't mean I can't find some satisfaction in the adrenaline rush from a fight."
"So that is what you are doing.†Roen tried her best to hide the contempt in her voice. "When you joke about limbs flying off." She felt that indignation starting to build again, even though earlier she had resolved to set her disappointment aside. "I do not condemn you for killing. The bandits had their weapons drawn. I saw that. But..."
"But what? I dashed your expectations? Even though I told you I would murder and steal, that somehow surprised you?" Nero snorted derisively. "You stuck your head in the mouth of a drake and didn't expect it to bite. Quite frankly, you're a ridiculous woman, Roen Deneith."
Her eyes narrowed. Aye. Ridiculous for thinking you were someone else. I know differently now. Roen wanted to say it aloud. It would have been easier to just dismiss him for what he was. A killer. But…
There was a part of her that still did not want to believe it. "And you are cruel and brutal, with a mean streak in you that enjoys the power you wield.†She retorted. "Do you not think that those you hate so much feel exactly the same thing when they wield their power over those you claim to protect?"
"Yes, because kicking in the ribs of a defenseless beggar is a perfect analogy for killing armed and armored thugs who murder and steal.†Nero Lazarov rolled his eyes. “Thoroughly trapped by your logic, I am." His tone was acidic and mocking, and did not relent in his disdain. "The bandit saw my face, and I would rather he didn't. I suppose you suggest we take the injured bastard with us? Tie him up with rope we don't have? Make him stand trial? Or, I could end his suffering quickly and painlessly and remove a problem. It is unfortunate that he had to die, perhaps, but it is what it is."
His argument was brutal yet logical. But she did not want to relinquish that. "Is there to be no trial at all? Throughout what we do here? Does death await everyone?â€
There was coldness in Nero’s narrowed eyes, even if his lips still entertained his ever-present smirk. "Well, yes, actually, unless you're friends with a Primal or know of someone who's discovered immortality. The joke, Roen, is that we all have the same punchline. We're all headed to the same destination. Some of us just take longer to get there than others." He sighed, with a shake of his head, his cheery mask failing. "Is there a point to this indignant tirade of yours? There are hungry refugees. Some of them can't even leave their tents. We should distribute these while we can."
Her brow twitched, despite her forced calm. "You told me you would not begrudge justice, if it prevailed. But I wonder if you truly meant that."
Nero clapped his hands as he rifled through the crates. "So it is a trial you wanted! Why did you even bother listening to me then, if all you were going to do was complain about us breaking the law? I found your idealism endearing before, if a bit tiresome, but now you're just going in circles."
Roen stepped towards the crates, needing to do something other than to dig her nails into her palm. He was not listening to her. He just wanted to shove her ideals aside. "And I thought your goal, your desire to help Ul'dah to be worth whatever we may face." She began to roughly pry one open, perhaps more forcibly than needed. "But if we start to enjoy the violence, it would bring more bloodshed and sorrow than good."
"I kill some bandits, and now you have doubts? What would you rather I do? Hug them and hope it works out?"
"I was never foolish enough to think there would be no violence."
"Except, from this little episode you're giving me, you apparently did."
"No." She said the word firmly, her eyes narrowing on him. "The dead bandits... if that had to happen, then it had to happen. What surprised me was your absolute glee in it."
"It had been a while since I'd been in a fight.†The smuggler shrugged. “I enjoyed the adrenaline. I did not torture those bandits. I did not take delight in their cruelty. I ended them as swiftly and as practically as I could. The fact that I may have taken some joy in exercising my power really does not matter." He placed his palms flat on the top of the crate, regarding her with a mocking arch of his brow. “You would rather I hate myself, then? You would rather I offer a prayer to the Twelve, asking for forgiveness as I take their lives?"
"Stop...twisting my words!†Roen shot back. “You are just turning them into something foolish to mock me!"
The pirate’s tone grew more derisive and vitriolic. "Maybe I should have let them live? And when a broken caravan is set upon by them and their fellows, the mother taken screaming into the night, the child's legs broken, the father murdered, I should have said 'At least I didn't kill them'...? Perhaps I should have said, 'But it will correct itself, for justice exists!' Perhaps I should have said 'They may be exploitative and evil and ruthless, but I should be glad that I am doing nothing to stop them!'"
He glared at her, his voice dripping with contempt. "No, Miss Deneith, your world view is not skewed at all. Certainly not."
Hypocrite, she wanted to call him--he who saw nothing but darkness and cruelty in the world. A rush of names, arguments, and protests flooded her mind then, but Roen held her tongue. It was all she could do to stay her hand and not slap the smug smirk off his face. The gulf between their ideals was never more clear to her than now. They were arguing across a chasm and neither wanted to meet in the middle.
"Why did you even ask me?" Roen asked finally, her expression turning weary. "Am I just here... for you to feel better about your plans? That really, nothing else works? Because you can see how foolish I have become in this." She looked to him with indignant eyes. "Am I just a gauge you? To justify things that you do? Since nothing I believe or I hope to accomplish even belongs in this world?"
Nero answered with a cool glare of his own. "I am not the one you should be asking that question of, Roen. And perhaps I shall ask you a question of my own." He crossed his arms. "What of me? Am I simply here for you to feed your ego? To be the evil soul turned back to the light by the shining faith of Roen Deneith, the former Sultansworn?" His eyes narrowed. "Did you really want to 'save' me, or did you just want me to be grateful to you?"
She felt her face getting hotter by the moment. And Nero would not stop. "Did you really believe in what I believed in, or do you simply seek Ul'dah's betterment because you felt that such a righteous and noble vision justified your existence?"
A hard slap across his cheek turned the smuggler’s head. Roen blinked, staring eyes wide at her hand that stung with the blow delivered. Her fingers trembled, her stomach roiled.
"And the cat reveals her claws. Took you long enough." That smirk returned. It always did.
"You do not know me." Roen seethed. She was shaking. "Do not presume to know anything about me."
"Funny," Nero said wryly. "I was about to say the exact same thing."
The paladin lowered her gaze, turning again towards the crates. She had to busy her hands with something, anything. Her movements were rushed, almost distraught as she began to set aside blankets and food. She cursed that his words had pierced her so.
"You are fortunate,†the smuggler said quietly, his tone turning bittersweet. “Fortunate enough be stuck in the twilight. You can still choose to go back to your righteousness, your justice. Rejoin the Sultansworn. Hunt down those who would threaten the status quo. Know that for every action you take, you further the Monetarist's hold in Ul'dah, for the Sultana holds no power."
"Or you can prove me wrong.†Nero said after a pause, his voice no longer dripping with venom. “Change Ul'dah from within. Change Ul'dah with the law on your side. Rub my face in the fact that I had drowned myself in darkness for no reason."
Roen stared at her hands as she closed her fingers, her knuckles paling with the firm grip. "I will prove you wrong." Her voice was hoarse.
"And I look forward to the day you do." His voice held a hint of regret. His glance diverted towards the refugee camp, toward the malnourished, sickly, shivering with the cold, their eyes dull and flat without hope for the future. "I took pleasure in the fact that I slew the bandits, yes. I knew that because if I did, some refugees would be spared. A merchant might return to the city with his goods intact. I knew, when I took their lives, that removing evil did not mean the same as creating good…but it did mean creating the opportunity for goodness to flourish."
The smuggler turned his gaze back to her. "I knew that when I destroyed that Brass Blade, that perhaps some poor souls might be able to eat tonight because of these supplies. That they may no longer fear the night's chill with these clothes." He exhaled. "What I took joy in was not taking their lives, but in knowing why I took their lives."
Those words could have set her doubts aside, had they been offered earlier. But now, Roen found herself just trying to calm her temper. His words, belittling or not...some of them had struck home.
"Why do you fight, Roen? What do you consider worth killing for? At what point will you commit evil to destroy it? Or will you spend your whole life in the twilight, surrendering to injustice after injustice, paralyzed by the power you wield to change things?"
"I do not believe that. I do not believe I have to compromise justice to fight injustice." Her words rang hollow to her own ears. Her belief had not wavered, but the fire that burned in those same words before had dimmed, perhaps with reluctance. She was realizing that despite how many times she said it, he was not hearing her at all. He did not want to.
"As you said. You will do things your way." She let out a long sigh, but held his gaze. "And I will do things my way."
The look Nero gave her held naught but sorrow. "And there it is. I pity the events you will have to endure, Miss Deneith. I will not relish the day you understand why I act the way I do."
He paused, before he added quietly, "Mayhaps you shall be stronger than I, when that day comes."
With such clear evidence of violence at the entrance of the mines, even if it pointed to an armed assault involving blades and thaumaturgy, would they think to suspect her involvement?
Only time would tell. Roen knew there were risks when she had gotten involved in this--in all of this.
Nero had remained silent as well. He was busy checking on some crates loaded behind them, while she steered the chocobo up front. As the smuggler was hidden within the canvas of the wagon, as far as any onlookers were concerned, Roen had come and gone by herself.
When they entered the refugee camps, none cared about their arrival. The sick and the poor could not see beyond their own suffering, their gaze downcast, their spirits nigh broken. Roen and Nero guided the wagon to the caves towards the back, where the smuggler could finally slip out unseen. It was only after they had unloaded the supplies that Nero broke the heavy silence between them.
"Alright. Go for it. Lecture away. I'm a brutal monster who kills out of fun, blah blah." He waved into the air vaguely as he sauntered over to the crates to inspect them. "I can see the look on your face. You look like I just kicked your mother."
Roen felt her smoldering resentment flare back to life at his blatant nonchalance. “Are you? Someone who kills out of fun?â€
"Killing is an inexorable part of the life I lead.†The smuggler shrugged. “I can either choose to hate myself for it, or I can choose to accept its presence and take some manner of relief in the act." He paused in his task to shoot her a glance. "I don't necessarily relish it, but that doesn't mean I can't find some satisfaction in the adrenaline rush from a fight."
"So that is what you are doing.†Roen tried her best to hide the contempt in her voice. "When you joke about limbs flying off." She felt that indignation starting to build again, even though earlier she had resolved to set her disappointment aside. "I do not condemn you for killing. The bandits had their weapons drawn. I saw that. But..."
"But what? I dashed your expectations? Even though I told you I would murder and steal, that somehow surprised you?" Nero snorted derisively. "You stuck your head in the mouth of a drake and didn't expect it to bite. Quite frankly, you're a ridiculous woman, Roen Deneith."
Her eyes narrowed. Aye. Ridiculous for thinking you were someone else. I know differently now. Roen wanted to say it aloud. It would have been easier to just dismiss him for what he was. A killer. But…
There was a part of her that still did not want to believe it. "And you are cruel and brutal, with a mean streak in you that enjoys the power you wield.†She retorted. "Do you not think that those you hate so much feel exactly the same thing when they wield their power over those you claim to protect?"
"Yes, because kicking in the ribs of a defenseless beggar is a perfect analogy for killing armed and armored thugs who murder and steal.†Nero Lazarov rolled his eyes. “Thoroughly trapped by your logic, I am." His tone was acidic and mocking, and did not relent in his disdain. "The bandit saw my face, and I would rather he didn't. I suppose you suggest we take the injured bastard with us? Tie him up with rope we don't have? Make him stand trial? Or, I could end his suffering quickly and painlessly and remove a problem. It is unfortunate that he had to die, perhaps, but it is what it is."
His argument was brutal yet logical. But she did not want to relinquish that. "Is there to be no trial at all? Throughout what we do here? Does death await everyone?â€
There was coldness in Nero’s narrowed eyes, even if his lips still entertained his ever-present smirk. "Well, yes, actually, unless you're friends with a Primal or know of someone who's discovered immortality. The joke, Roen, is that we all have the same punchline. We're all headed to the same destination. Some of us just take longer to get there than others." He sighed, with a shake of his head, his cheery mask failing. "Is there a point to this indignant tirade of yours? There are hungry refugees. Some of them can't even leave their tents. We should distribute these while we can."
Her brow twitched, despite her forced calm. "You told me you would not begrudge justice, if it prevailed. But I wonder if you truly meant that."
Nero clapped his hands as he rifled through the crates. "So it is a trial you wanted! Why did you even bother listening to me then, if all you were going to do was complain about us breaking the law? I found your idealism endearing before, if a bit tiresome, but now you're just going in circles."
Roen stepped towards the crates, needing to do something other than to dig her nails into her palm. He was not listening to her. He just wanted to shove her ideals aside. "And I thought your goal, your desire to help Ul'dah to be worth whatever we may face." She began to roughly pry one open, perhaps more forcibly than needed. "But if we start to enjoy the violence, it would bring more bloodshed and sorrow than good."
"I kill some bandits, and now you have doubts? What would you rather I do? Hug them and hope it works out?"
"I was never foolish enough to think there would be no violence."
"Except, from this little episode you're giving me, you apparently did."
"No." She said the word firmly, her eyes narrowing on him. "The dead bandits... if that had to happen, then it had to happen. What surprised me was your absolute glee in it."
"It had been a while since I'd been in a fight.†The smuggler shrugged. “I enjoyed the adrenaline. I did not torture those bandits. I did not take delight in their cruelty. I ended them as swiftly and as practically as I could. The fact that I may have taken some joy in exercising my power really does not matter." He placed his palms flat on the top of the crate, regarding her with a mocking arch of his brow. “You would rather I hate myself, then? You would rather I offer a prayer to the Twelve, asking for forgiveness as I take their lives?"
"Stop...twisting my words!†Roen shot back. “You are just turning them into something foolish to mock me!"
The pirate’s tone grew more derisive and vitriolic. "Maybe I should have let them live? And when a broken caravan is set upon by them and their fellows, the mother taken screaming into the night, the child's legs broken, the father murdered, I should have said 'At least I didn't kill them'...? Perhaps I should have said, 'But it will correct itself, for justice exists!' Perhaps I should have said 'They may be exploitative and evil and ruthless, but I should be glad that I am doing nothing to stop them!'"
He glared at her, his voice dripping with contempt. "No, Miss Deneith, your world view is not skewed at all. Certainly not."
Hypocrite, she wanted to call him--he who saw nothing but darkness and cruelty in the world. A rush of names, arguments, and protests flooded her mind then, but Roen held her tongue. It was all she could do to stay her hand and not slap the smug smirk off his face. The gulf between their ideals was never more clear to her than now. They were arguing across a chasm and neither wanted to meet in the middle.
"Why did you even ask me?" Roen asked finally, her expression turning weary. "Am I just here... for you to feel better about your plans? That really, nothing else works? Because you can see how foolish I have become in this." She looked to him with indignant eyes. "Am I just a gauge you? To justify things that you do? Since nothing I believe or I hope to accomplish even belongs in this world?"
Nero answered with a cool glare of his own. "I am not the one you should be asking that question of, Roen. And perhaps I shall ask you a question of my own." He crossed his arms. "What of me? Am I simply here for you to feed your ego? To be the evil soul turned back to the light by the shining faith of Roen Deneith, the former Sultansworn?" His eyes narrowed. "Did you really want to 'save' me, or did you just want me to be grateful to you?"
She felt her face getting hotter by the moment. And Nero would not stop. "Did you really believe in what I believed in, or do you simply seek Ul'dah's betterment because you felt that such a righteous and noble vision justified your existence?"
A hard slap across his cheek turned the smuggler’s head. Roen blinked, staring eyes wide at her hand that stung with the blow delivered. Her fingers trembled, her stomach roiled.
"And the cat reveals her claws. Took you long enough." That smirk returned. It always did.
"You do not know me." Roen seethed. She was shaking. "Do not presume to know anything about me."
"Funny," Nero said wryly. "I was about to say the exact same thing."
The paladin lowered her gaze, turning again towards the crates. She had to busy her hands with something, anything. Her movements were rushed, almost distraught as she began to set aside blankets and food. She cursed that his words had pierced her so.
"You are fortunate,†the smuggler said quietly, his tone turning bittersweet. “Fortunate enough be stuck in the twilight. You can still choose to go back to your righteousness, your justice. Rejoin the Sultansworn. Hunt down those who would threaten the status quo. Know that for every action you take, you further the Monetarist's hold in Ul'dah, for the Sultana holds no power."
"Or you can prove me wrong.†Nero said after a pause, his voice no longer dripping with venom. “Change Ul'dah from within. Change Ul'dah with the law on your side. Rub my face in the fact that I had drowned myself in darkness for no reason."
Roen stared at her hands as she closed her fingers, her knuckles paling with the firm grip. "I will prove you wrong." Her voice was hoarse.
"And I look forward to the day you do." His voice held a hint of regret. His glance diverted towards the refugee camp, toward the malnourished, sickly, shivering with the cold, their eyes dull and flat without hope for the future. "I took pleasure in the fact that I slew the bandits, yes. I knew that because if I did, some refugees would be spared. A merchant might return to the city with his goods intact. I knew, when I took their lives, that removing evil did not mean the same as creating good…but it did mean creating the opportunity for goodness to flourish."
The smuggler turned his gaze back to her. "I knew that when I destroyed that Brass Blade, that perhaps some poor souls might be able to eat tonight because of these supplies. That they may no longer fear the night's chill with these clothes." He exhaled. "What I took joy in was not taking their lives, but in knowing why I took their lives."
Those words could have set her doubts aside, had they been offered earlier. But now, Roen found herself just trying to calm her temper. His words, belittling or not...some of them had struck home.
"Why do you fight, Roen? What do you consider worth killing for? At what point will you commit evil to destroy it? Or will you spend your whole life in the twilight, surrendering to injustice after injustice, paralyzed by the power you wield to change things?"
"I do not believe that. I do not believe I have to compromise justice to fight injustice." Her words rang hollow to her own ears. Her belief had not wavered, but the fire that burned in those same words before had dimmed, perhaps with reluctance. She was realizing that despite how many times she said it, he was not hearing her at all. He did not want to.
"As you said. You will do things your way." She let out a long sigh, but held his gaze. "And I will do things my way."
The look Nero gave her held naught but sorrow. "And there it is. I pity the events you will have to endure, Miss Deneith. I will not relish the day you understand why I act the way I do."
He paused, before he added quietly, "Mayhaps you shall be stronger than I, when that day comes."
