Honesty.
That is what Nero Lazarov promised her, after inviting her for lunch at the airship bar. Their exchange at Lost Hope two suns before, had left things awkward and strained between them. Even when she had brought Ser Crofte for a brief meeting with the smuggler a day later, the tension had remained thick. The conversation between the pirate and the Sultansworn was cordial, and somewhat evasive at best, and it ended with a vague understanding where each other stood.
Roen was not even sure where she stood with the pirate anymore. So many angry words were exchanged between them at Lost Hope, and that conversation ended with a very dark glimpse of his past.
But when the paladin joined him at the bar at his request, she found the smuggler wearing his usual smirk, his facetious persona back in place. But then he said the words that she did not expect to hear. “You have questions, and I promise honest answers. Whether you choose to believe them is up to you.†His tone sounded candid, his gaze direct.
Roen stared at the man that sat across the table from her, long and hard. There were too many questions; she was not sure where to begin.
“You were raised here. In Ul’dah. Aye?â€
Nero nodded, setting down the steel cup in his hand. "The word 'raised' implies the presence of parental figures, of which there were none. But my first memories are of Ul'dah, yes."
“What happened to them? Your parents?" The paladin canted her head.
"Never knew them. Never cared to find out. Parents were like gil to me: something other people had that I didn't. Would it be that I were born in a more prosperous location in Eorzea, or Garlemald, but we cannot begrudge the circumstances of our birth."
Roen noted that he spoke of Garlemald yet again. The name Nero was common in the Empire. When she had assumed in previous conversations that he was from Garlemald as she had been, he had never corrected her. But from the details that he had shared unwittingly of his past, she had come to suspect otherwise. His home was Ul’dah, the City-State that owned his soul. "...So. You are not of Garlemald."
Nero curled the corner of his lip wryly. "I am loath to sever that connection of kinship between us, but no. I did not have the fortune to be raised in the Empire."
His admission did not come as a surprise, even though a part of her wanted to take umbrage in the fact that he misled her all along, perhaps to gain her confidence. Roen set that annoyance aside."But your name. Did you choose it? Or was it given to you?"
The smuggler shrugged, raising an eyebrow. "What does it matter? What is a name? A name is a label, used for the sake of convenience. You can say that it was given to me, in a manner of speaking."
“But you were given an Imperial name.".
"And why does the presence of an Imperial influence intrigue you so, Miss Deneith?" He cocked his head. "You yourself are not Garlean, unless your hair hides your third eye very well."
Roen leaned back, crossing her arms. "I have ties to the Empire." She reflexively looked around and lowered her voice. Exonerated for not, advertising one’s Imperial past was not a wise thing to do. "I was raised there. But born in Ala Mhigo."
"And yet, your attitude implies that you felt connected to the idea that I was raised in the Empire. But you are here, in Eorzea, serving the Eorzean city states." He seemed amused and curious at the same time, studying her from across the table. "What if I were truly raised in the Empire? What if I desired the subjugation of your cities and peoples? Would you still have felt some manner of kinship if that were the case?"
"If that were the case, you would be behind bars," she said matter-of-factly and without hesitation. "We would not be conversing across a dinner table."
"A pragmatic answer." Nero waved a hand mildly. "Odd, then, how the Eorzeans resist subjugation out of...what? A desire for autonomy, perhaps? Yet for all intents and purposes, the citizens of the Empire seem to enjoy some manner of comfort and respect. Odd how such things are so foreign on the home front, as it were."
"Aye. The Empire enforces Order. They need not worry about Primals and all things made of twisted aether." Roen exhaled, her voice lowering. "Most of my life, I considered it my home, and worth defending."
"And what changed?"
A long silence fell between them before she answered; her mind was hesitant to recall that horrific day, when her life changed forever. “Dalamud fell," she whispered, her expression falling with shame. "I...did not know anyone could be capable of such horrors."
"And so the actions of the Legatus condemned the entire nation in your eyes. Damned all of its citizens to be thought of as nothing more than evil, the soldiers little more than pawns to be slain on the battlefield?"
Roen quickly narrowed her eyes. "Trying to bring order to chaos, to wield the power needed to defeat the mad Primals...I never opposed those things. But to unleash something that would indiscriminately destroy all things in its path..." The paladin shook her head. "I could not condone that." She paused before she uncrossed her arms and leaned forward. "But that does not mean I condemn the entire nation."
Nero was watching her oddly as she spoke, but saying nothing for now.
Roen shook her head. "I was one of those soldiers, Mister Lazarov. I snuck onto the battlefield at Carteneau. I would never see any of them as pawns to be slain." She inhaled; the horrors the Calamity had passed long ago from her mind, but even the faintest ghosts of those memories darkened her mood. “I would not ever support efforts to invade or kill citizens of my homeland. Aye, I still consider it my home. I was raised there. My childhood memories--happy memories--are of the Empire."
The paladin drew a long breath, a new calm settling her thoughts. “But Eorzea... Eorzea is my second home."
"I envy your perspective,†Nero said wryly. “How gratifying it must be…to have not one, but two places in which you feel you can belong." He snorted. "I would have dropped Dalamud as well, if it meant having something like that."
Roen frowned, but saw the joviality draining from his face as he glanced away.
"I am not sure I belong either place now." She offered quietly. “I still cannot talk about my home to most people here. And the Empire may call me a traitor."
“And yet from your words, you are still willing to defend both, despite those odds."
"Aye, I hold loyalty to both." The paladin nodded. She was not sure if it was wise to confess these things, especially to a man she’d only known for such a short time. Roen had never been comfortable discussing her divided loyalties between the Empire and Eorzea. She had never willingly brought it up to those who had been closest to her: her brother who remembered losing their parents to the Garleans, and all her paladin mentors that had fought against and shed Garlean blood. And yet, now she found her confessions came easily to her lips in front of this smuggler. "There are good people on both sides, Mister Lazarov. People worth defending."
“Each side see the other as monsters, or primitives." Roen shook her head. "They are just...people."
"Just people..." Nero offered a bitter grin for her efforts. "I suppose that is the way it must look." He fell to silence again, looking to his cup as he sloshed the liquid within it to and fro.
Roen took up her own glass of sweet water, taking a sip. "Most people are. Most people just want to live their lives in peace. With a bit of happiness."
"Most people..." the smuggler echoed her words softly. "You'll excuse me if I have trouble believing that sentiment."
The paladin could sense his doubt, a hint of smoldering bitterness that he was keeping in check. "You called my view of the world askewed. I say the same for you." Her voice held no accusation or contempt as it would have suns ago. Rather, threads of empathy entwined itself into her words. "You saw what many do not. Or many refuse to see. But I think you also do not see outside of that darkness."
Roen leaned back on her chair again, her finger absently rubbing at the edge of the table. “After I ran away from Carteneau..." she paused, and peered back up at him. "Aye, I ran away." She allowed a moment to let that sink in, her confession echoing in her own ears, before she continued. “I was taken in by a traveling merchant family. They took me in. For five years, no questions asked. Just...kindness offered." Her voice grew soft in recollection, wistful. "Their happiness lay in having made enough gil at the markets to lay meat on the table. Or to have a good harvest of what little crops they planted."
The paladin lifted her gaze back to Nero. "When I say people, I think of them. And many like them."
Nero said nothing in response. He propped his arm against the table and leaned his head on it, staring at the wall to his right.
"When I joined the Order, I did it to protect people like them." Roen's words were softly spoken. She picked up her drink again, eyeing the clear liquid within. "I took their last name, because I saw them as my second family." She paused, her glass held in front of her. “You feel the need to fix Ul’dah for the suffering you have witnessed. I too see that need. But I also see the rest of the people, who only want to lead simple lives in peace. I need to protect them too.â€
That is what Nero Lazarov promised her, after inviting her for lunch at the airship bar. Their exchange at Lost Hope two suns before, had left things awkward and strained between them. Even when she had brought Ser Crofte for a brief meeting with the smuggler a day later, the tension had remained thick. The conversation between the pirate and the Sultansworn was cordial, and somewhat evasive at best, and it ended with a vague understanding where each other stood.
Roen was not even sure where she stood with the pirate anymore. So many angry words were exchanged between them at Lost Hope, and that conversation ended with a very dark glimpse of his past.
But when the paladin joined him at the bar at his request, she found the smuggler wearing his usual smirk, his facetious persona back in place. But then he said the words that she did not expect to hear. “You have questions, and I promise honest answers. Whether you choose to believe them is up to you.†His tone sounded candid, his gaze direct.
Roen stared at the man that sat across the table from her, long and hard. There were too many questions; she was not sure where to begin.
“You were raised here. In Ul’dah. Aye?â€
Nero nodded, setting down the steel cup in his hand. "The word 'raised' implies the presence of parental figures, of which there were none. But my first memories are of Ul'dah, yes."
“What happened to them? Your parents?" The paladin canted her head.
"Never knew them. Never cared to find out. Parents were like gil to me: something other people had that I didn't. Would it be that I were born in a more prosperous location in Eorzea, or Garlemald, but we cannot begrudge the circumstances of our birth."
Roen noted that he spoke of Garlemald yet again. The name Nero was common in the Empire. When she had assumed in previous conversations that he was from Garlemald as she had been, he had never corrected her. But from the details that he had shared unwittingly of his past, she had come to suspect otherwise. His home was Ul’dah, the City-State that owned his soul. "...So. You are not of Garlemald."
Nero curled the corner of his lip wryly. "I am loath to sever that connection of kinship between us, but no. I did not have the fortune to be raised in the Empire."
His admission did not come as a surprise, even though a part of her wanted to take umbrage in the fact that he misled her all along, perhaps to gain her confidence. Roen set that annoyance aside."But your name. Did you choose it? Or was it given to you?"
The smuggler shrugged, raising an eyebrow. "What does it matter? What is a name? A name is a label, used for the sake of convenience. You can say that it was given to me, in a manner of speaking."
“But you were given an Imperial name.".
"And why does the presence of an Imperial influence intrigue you so, Miss Deneith?" He cocked his head. "You yourself are not Garlean, unless your hair hides your third eye very well."
Roen leaned back, crossing her arms. "I have ties to the Empire." She reflexively looked around and lowered her voice. Exonerated for not, advertising one’s Imperial past was not a wise thing to do. "I was raised there. But born in Ala Mhigo."
"And yet, your attitude implies that you felt connected to the idea that I was raised in the Empire. But you are here, in Eorzea, serving the Eorzean city states." He seemed amused and curious at the same time, studying her from across the table. "What if I were truly raised in the Empire? What if I desired the subjugation of your cities and peoples? Would you still have felt some manner of kinship if that were the case?"
"If that were the case, you would be behind bars," she said matter-of-factly and without hesitation. "We would not be conversing across a dinner table."
"A pragmatic answer." Nero waved a hand mildly. "Odd, then, how the Eorzeans resist subjugation out of...what? A desire for autonomy, perhaps? Yet for all intents and purposes, the citizens of the Empire seem to enjoy some manner of comfort and respect. Odd how such things are so foreign on the home front, as it were."
"Aye. The Empire enforces Order. They need not worry about Primals and all things made of twisted aether." Roen exhaled, her voice lowering. "Most of my life, I considered it my home, and worth defending."
"And what changed?"
A long silence fell between them before she answered; her mind was hesitant to recall that horrific day, when her life changed forever. “Dalamud fell," she whispered, her expression falling with shame. "I...did not know anyone could be capable of such horrors."
"And so the actions of the Legatus condemned the entire nation in your eyes. Damned all of its citizens to be thought of as nothing more than evil, the soldiers little more than pawns to be slain on the battlefield?"
Roen quickly narrowed her eyes. "Trying to bring order to chaos, to wield the power needed to defeat the mad Primals...I never opposed those things. But to unleash something that would indiscriminately destroy all things in its path..." The paladin shook her head. "I could not condone that." She paused before she uncrossed her arms and leaned forward. "But that does not mean I condemn the entire nation."
Nero was watching her oddly as she spoke, but saying nothing for now.
Roen shook her head. "I was one of those soldiers, Mister Lazarov. I snuck onto the battlefield at Carteneau. I would never see any of them as pawns to be slain." She inhaled; the horrors the Calamity had passed long ago from her mind, but even the faintest ghosts of those memories darkened her mood. “I would not ever support efforts to invade or kill citizens of my homeland. Aye, I still consider it my home. I was raised there. My childhood memories--happy memories--are of the Empire."
The paladin drew a long breath, a new calm settling her thoughts. “But Eorzea... Eorzea is my second home."
"I envy your perspective,†Nero said wryly. “How gratifying it must be…to have not one, but two places in which you feel you can belong." He snorted. "I would have dropped Dalamud as well, if it meant having something like that."
Roen frowned, but saw the joviality draining from his face as he glanced away.
"I am not sure I belong either place now." She offered quietly. “I still cannot talk about my home to most people here. And the Empire may call me a traitor."
“And yet from your words, you are still willing to defend both, despite those odds."
"Aye, I hold loyalty to both." The paladin nodded. She was not sure if it was wise to confess these things, especially to a man she’d only known for such a short time. Roen had never been comfortable discussing her divided loyalties between the Empire and Eorzea. She had never willingly brought it up to those who had been closest to her: her brother who remembered losing their parents to the Garleans, and all her paladin mentors that had fought against and shed Garlean blood. And yet, now she found her confessions came easily to her lips in front of this smuggler. "There are good people on both sides, Mister Lazarov. People worth defending."
“Each side see the other as monsters, or primitives." Roen shook her head. "They are just...people."
"Just people..." Nero offered a bitter grin for her efforts. "I suppose that is the way it must look." He fell to silence again, looking to his cup as he sloshed the liquid within it to and fro.
Roen took up her own glass of sweet water, taking a sip. "Most people are. Most people just want to live their lives in peace. With a bit of happiness."
"Most people..." the smuggler echoed her words softly. "You'll excuse me if I have trouble believing that sentiment."
The paladin could sense his doubt, a hint of smoldering bitterness that he was keeping in check. "You called my view of the world askewed. I say the same for you." Her voice held no accusation or contempt as it would have suns ago. Rather, threads of empathy entwined itself into her words. "You saw what many do not. Or many refuse to see. But I think you also do not see outside of that darkness."
Roen leaned back on her chair again, her finger absently rubbing at the edge of the table. “After I ran away from Carteneau..." she paused, and peered back up at him. "Aye, I ran away." She allowed a moment to let that sink in, her confession echoing in her own ears, before she continued. “I was taken in by a traveling merchant family. They took me in. For five years, no questions asked. Just...kindness offered." Her voice grew soft in recollection, wistful. "Their happiness lay in having made enough gil at the markets to lay meat on the table. Or to have a good harvest of what little crops they planted."
The paladin lifted her gaze back to Nero. "When I say people, I think of them. And many like them."
Nero said nothing in response. He propped his arm against the table and leaned his head on it, staring at the wall to his right.
"When I joined the Order, I did it to protect people like them." Roen's words were softly spoken. She picked up her drink again, eyeing the clear liquid within. "I took their last name, because I saw them as my second family." She paused, her glass held in front of her. “You feel the need to fix Ul’dah for the suffering you have witnessed. I too see that need. But I also see the rest of the people, who only want to lead simple lives in peace. I need to protect them too.â€
