Nero kept the frown from his lips, but they curled slightly nonetheless, even as he kept his gaze focused on the wall. "And why have you not rejoined the Order?"
The paladin fell silent. Perhaps she had realised how one-sided this conversation had become. From the corner of his eye, the smuggler saw a pensive expression cross Roen's face as she fingered her glass absently. "Because...since I arrived in Ul'dah...I saw things I did not expect to see. I learned things that the people outside Ul'dah never knew about. The struggle of power. The struggle of the poor. The corruption that runs unchecked."
A snort managed to keep itself from escaping Nero's nostrils. "Why have you not rejoined the Order?" He echoed his question.
Roen stared at him for a long moment before lowering her gaze. "Because I want to do more," she murmured. "Because the Sworns' hands are tied to the will of the Sultana...and the Sultana has to maintain the balance of power for peace to exist in Ul'dah.
Nero took up his cup again and swirled the liquid in it, his thirst satiated. The smuggler continued to stare at the wall as he spoke, as if he were speaking more to himself than to Roen at this point. "You want to protect the people. Being a member of the Sworns grants you that authority. You may not always be able to punish the wrongdoers, but at the least you have the power to defend the innocent." He did not glance at her from his peripheral vision, but the silence that followed was noticeable.
"Aye," came the response. "But there are other Sworns. And they will continue to do so. But none have sworn to change things. They cannot." Roen shook her head. "I never even imagined that such things would be possible. And I do not know that it is. But... I called you a dreamer once. For this impossible goal. It does not mean one should not try."
Ironic how she was calling him the dreamer when he had spent so much time belittling her foolish ideals. Nero kept his gaze averted. "At least we can agree on that," he muttered, more to himself than to the paladin.
"Some have called me foolish to hold allegiance to both the Empire and Eorzea. But... it is what I feel is right. So I shall." Roen canted her head, noting his evasive expression. "How old were you when you left here?"
Nero sighed, choosing his words carefully. "Old enough," was the vague response. "Old enough to have seen things that are the stuff of nightmares. Old enough to know why I had to leave or be consumed by it. Old enough." His statement ended with a morbid sense of finality.
A long silence followed that was eventually broken by Roen. "The story you told me...you saw that? First hand?"
Nero nearly flinched. Telling that story was foolish, but there was no use in regretting it now. "My place in that story..doesn't matter. All that matters is that it happened," he said evasively. The smuggler held a solid mask of composure over his face, even as his tone was stiff in its neutrality.
Roen's grey eyes searched the face that refused to look at her. Her voice was soft and gentle. She did not want to sound as if she was pitying him, but the sympathy was clear in her tone. "It does matter," she insisted. "It explains...." she paused, as if feeling that that was not the right word. "It helps me understand you." She tilted her head, as if to draw his gaze.
Nero glanced at her from the corner of his eye, not willing to look directly at her, lest she spot the smoldering glare he wore. "And why do you care?" The question was still in the metallic, neutral tone, but held an edge of bitterness. "The only people who have ever cared are people who wanted something in return. I have no reason to believe you are any different."
The paladin fell silent. Perhaps she had realised how one-sided this conversation had become. From the corner of his eye, the smuggler saw a pensive expression cross Roen's face as she fingered her glass absently. "Because...since I arrived in Ul'dah...I saw things I did not expect to see. I learned things that the people outside Ul'dah never knew about. The struggle of power. The struggle of the poor. The corruption that runs unchecked."
A snort managed to keep itself from escaping Nero's nostrils. "Why have you not rejoined the Order?" He echoed his question.
Roen stared at him for a long moment before lowering her gaze. "Because I want to do more," she murmured. "Because the Sworns' hands are tied to the will of the Sultana...and the Sultana has to maintain the balance of power for peace to exist in Ul'dah.
Nero took up his cup again and swirled the liquid in it, his thirst satiated. The smuggler continued to stare at the wall as he spoke, as if he were speaking more to himself than to Roen at this point. "You want to protect the people. Being a member of the Sworns grants you that authority. You may not always be able to punish the wrongdoers, but at the least you have the power to defend the innocent." He did not glance at her from his peripheral vision, but the silence that followed was noticeable.
"Aye," came the response. "But there are other Sworns. And they will continue to do so. But none have sworn to change things. They cannot." Roen shook her head. "I never even imagined that such things would be possible. And I do not know that it is. But... I called you a dreamer once. For this impossible goal. It does not mean one should not try."
Ironic how she was calling him the dreamer when he had spent so much time belittling her foolish ideals. Nero kept his gaze averted. "At least we can agree on that," he muttered, more to himself than to the paladin.
"Some have called me foolish to hold allegiance to both the Empire and Eorzea. But... it is what I feel is right. So I shall." Roen canted her head, noting his evasive expression. "How old were you when you left here?"
Nero sighed, choosing his words carefully. "Old enough," was the vague response. "Old enough to have seen things that are the stuff of nightmares. Old enough to know why I had to leave or be consumed by it. Old enough." His statement ended with a morbid sense of finality.
A long silence followed that was eventually broken by Roen. "The story you told me...you saw that? First hand?"
Nero nearly flinched. Telling that story was foolish, but there was no use in regretting it now. "My place in that story..doesn't matter. All that matters is that it happened," he said evasively. The smuggler held a solid mask of composure over his face, even as his tone was stiff in its neutrality.
Roen's grey eyes searched the face that refused to look at her. Her voice was soft and gentle. She did not want to sound as if she was pitying him, but the sympathy was clear in her tone. "It does matter," she insisted. "It explains...." she paused, as if feeling that that was not the right word. "It helps me understand you." She tilted her head, as if to draw his gaze.
Nero glanced at her from the corner of his eye, not willing to look directly at her, lest she spot the smoldering glare he wore. "And why do you care?" The question was still in the metallic, neutral tone, but held an edge of bitterness. "The only people who have ever cared are people who wanted something in return. I have no reason to believe you are any different."
