Nero sighed, taking some time to gaze out onto the open ocean as Roen left, his arms folded. His mind remained with his jumbled thoughts until the sun dipped beneath the horizon, and night embraced Limsa Lominsa like a cloak of velvet. The spires and docks of the city began to flicker as lamps and lanterns were ignited, illuminating the towers and walkways with tiny spots of red and orange that were not unlike the stars that were beginning to emerge from the sky.
"Your life is not forfeit to be a sacrifice. Lives lost does not gain justification with more lives lost."
Her words echoed relentlessly in his head. Was all of this pointless? Part of being a businessman was understanding the concept of a gamble, and knowing when to cut losses. Was continuing after all that had happened a fruitless endeavour?Â
No, the real question wasn't whether or not it was pointless...the real question was whether or not he would be willing to accept it if it was.
The Hyur sighed again, shaking his head to shove his doubts aside. It did not matter. Even if he wanted to quit, he'd come too far now. Scythe was slowly but surely beginning to strain against his leash; the bandit and his gang was getting antsy and eager to try their new weapons. In addition, the supply lines for the steel and ceruleum had been solidly established and fabrication of the foundation parts had already begun. Nero was preparing to march both doom and hope to the walls of Ul'dah, whether the city wanted it or not.
No, it was far, far too late.
Nero pulled up a pocket watch from his trouser pocket. While it was not shoddy, it was not nearly as elaborate or sturdy as his Garlean timepiece. The smuggler made a mental note to barter with Shaelen for his timepiece's return; she had been very...forward in their last interaction, but there was quite the difference between a drunken fling and a passionate reunion. At the thought, the corner of his lip curled in a grin. There'd be time later when this was over to mix together business and pleasure.
Another shake of his head. Clarity, that is what he needed. He needed to be of sound judgment, for there was no rest for the wicked, and there was much work to be done.Â
As the veil of night deepened in Limsa Lominsa, Nero drew up his mental checklist of tasks to be done. While he traversed the various walkways, his mind wandered other avenues, namely how to respond to the destruction of his warehouse. Try as he might, the smuggler could only scrounge a few details of the incident as witnesses were few in number and the perpetrators had fled the scene after the explosion. He knew that the Sultansworn were present; Mcbeef would not have been alone. A frown formed on his lips as he considered the possibility that Crofte had been present, but the lady knight did not seem inclined towards such subterfuge and sabotage. Still, anything was possible. It was also likely that the Maelstrom had participated in the raid, and if the Sultansworn were there, then the Flames were there too.
Was that possible, though? If Maelstrom personnel were present, Nero had to operate on the assumption that they were assisting as independent parties and not as representatives of the Grand Company. Merlwyb would have never suffered Ul'dahn interference in Limsan affairs.... unless refusing the Sultansworn would have caused a major political incident.
No, that wasn't possible. Nero might not have escaped the notice of some of Ul'dah's more powerful elements, but he assured himself with some confidence that he had covered his tracks. There was no hard evidence that they could have brought to the Maelstrom. No, any officers of the Storm would have been there as a personal favour, and not as legal authorities. Still, though, that presented another worrying element. The Sultansworn were well-connected and could call upon members of the Storm. Part of Nero's security had relied on the rivalries between Ul'dah and Limsa Lominsa to get in the way and prevent any sort of consistent collaboration.
The situation was getting dangerous. The number of factors had to be trimmed down considerably.
The smuggler's contemplation came to a halt as he arrived at Naldiq & Vymelli's. Most of the apprentices had gone to the Wench to drink, but there were still several journeymen working hard on their craft. Nero sauntered down the ramp on the eastern side of the building, where leaned a Highlander man who looked like anything but a Highlander.
Rather than tall and bronzed, the man was short, pale, a bit portly, and scraggly. His unkempt ashen hair was kept in place by a haphazard bandana, and his face was pointed and narrow, like a rodent's. The adornments covering his body was a simple linen outfit, and a pair of sheathed stilettos hung from his side. The Highlander's grin revealed a few missing teeth as he glanced at Nero, who swiftly withdrew a pouch and tossed it at the rogue, whose vermin-like countenance had earned him the unflattering moniker of Ratface.
"Ye be providin' quite the greed t' keep me from blowin' me gab," Ratface said roughly as he eagerly opened the pouch and started counting.Â
Nero merely shrugged. "I make the necessary investments to keep my business running. You are one of those good investments," he said diplomatically, though truth be told the Midlander wanted nothing to do with the man. Â The smuggler disliked dealing with Ratface, but the latter and his various corrupt associates were so far the only reliable veil that Nero had from the Rogue's Guild, and what Ratface lacked in any sort of etiquette or pleasant qualities, he made up for in efficient information gathering. Ratface peered up at the smuggler, temporarily distracted from his coin counting.Â
"'eard one o' yer hangs out been floored," Ratface said idly.
"Who do the rogues suspect?" Nero said shrugging, though he was a bit alarmed that news had spread that quickly. The Highlander scowled.
"Mixi been tryin'a split 'em t'wards th' Executioners, but 'er mobs be thinkin' otherwise," Ratface said, scratching the back of his neck with a spindly hand. "If'n the ruffmans be catchin' the wrong rummy, ye bet yer millin' be imminent."
"As long as you keep doing what I pay you to do, that shouldn't be a problem," Nero said rather sharply. Ratface merely grinned and waved a hand. "Ye wanna be cookin' more eggs, ye be turnin' up the heat," he said.
"If it comes to that, your fee will increase," Nero replied, trying to keep the distaste out of his voice. Anyone who was anyone in Limsa Lominsa's underworld knew about Merlwyb's shadowy enforcers and that escaping their grasp was not a simple thing to do. That said, scum was still scum, and though the rogue's guild was not incompetent, they were not infallible either; many believed in that farce of a code, true, and many still like Ratface were willing to bend or break the rules to get ahead in coin or influence. The Highlander had the upper hand, and he knew it, and that was something Nero hated; so long as he was dependent on Ratface's protection from the rogues, Nero had to adhere to the scraggly Highlander's terms.
"Keep an eye out for me for any Ul'dahns that enter the city. Suspicious-looking types. You know the ones." Ratface tilted his head in curiosity.
"Funnily 'nuff, we already been lendin' our daddles gazin' fer some stranger coves. This be fer yer paddy warmin' up?"
"Possible and probable," the smuggler responded as he began to walk off. "Keep me posted and there'll be a reward as always."
Meeting with Ratface was only one of many things on the agenda. As he left the corner of Naldiq & Vymelli's, the paladin's words floated back to his mind.
"Do not give me reasons to try and fill my heart with hatred for you."
Nero had not deigned to respond. He couldn't think of one. He couldn't promise that he could give Roen what she was looking for.
It was far too late to turn back now.
"Your life is not forfeit to be a sacrifice. Lives lost does not gain justification with more lives lost."
Her words echoed relentlessly in his head. Was all of this pointless? Part of being a businessman was understanding the concept of a gamble, and knowing when to cut losses. Was continuing after all that had happened a fruitless endeavour?Â
No, the real question wasn't whether or not it was pointless...the real question was whether or not he would be willing to accept it if it was.
The Hyur sighed again, shaking his head to shove his doubts aside. It did not matter. Even if he wanted to quit, he'd come too far now. Scythe was slowly but surely beginning to strain against his leash; the bandit and his gang was getting antsy and eager to try their new weapons. In addition, the supply lines for the steel and ceruleum had been solidly established and fabrication of the foundation parts had already begun. Nero was preparing to march both doom and hope to the walls of Ul'dah, whether the city wanted it or not.
No, it was far, far too late.
Nero pulled up a pocket watch from his trouser pocket. While it was not shoddy, it was not nearly as elaborate or sturdy as his Garlean timepiece. The smuggler made a mental note to barter with Shaelen for his timepiece's return; she had been very...forward in their last interaction, but there was quite the difference between a drunken fling and a passionate reunion. At the thought, the corner of his lip curled in a grin. There'd be time later when this was over to mix together business and pleasure.
Another shake of his head. Clarity, that is what he needed. He needed to be of sound judgment, for there was no rest for the wicked, and there was much work to be done.Â
As the veil of night deepened in Limsa Lominsa, Nero drew up his mental checklist of tasks to be done. While he traversed the various walkways, his mind wandered other avenues, namely how to respond to the destruction of his warehouse. Try as he might, the smuggler could only scrounge a few details of the incident as witnesses were few in number and the perpetrators had fled the scene after the explosion. He knew that the Sultansworn were present; Mcbeef would not have been alone. A frown formed on his lips as he considered the possibility that Crofte had been present, but the lady knight did not seem inclined towards such subterfuge and sabotage. Still, anything was possible. It was also likely that the Maelstrom had participated in the raid, and if the Sultansworn were there, then the Flames were there too.
Was that possible, though? If Maelstrom personnel were present, Nero had to operate on the assumption that they were assisting as independent parties and not as representatives of the Grand Company. Merlwyb would have never suffered Ul'dahn interference in Limsan affairs.... unless refusing the Sultansworn would have caused a major political incident.
No, that wasn't possible. Nero might not have escaped the notice of some of Ul'dah's more powerful elements, but he assured himself with some confidence that he had covered his tracks. There was no hard evidence that they could have brought to the Maelstrom. No, any officers of the Storm would have been there as a personal favour, and not as legal authorities. Still, though, that presented another worrying element. The Sultansworn were well-connected and could call upon members of the Storm. Part of Nero's security had relied on the rivalries between Ul'dah and Limsa Lominsa to get in the way and prevent any sort of consistent collaboration.
The situation was getting dangerous. The number of factors had to be trimmed down considerably.
The smuggler's contemplation came to a halt as he arrived at Naldiq & Vymelli's. Most of the apprentices had gone to the Wench to drink, but there were still several journeymen working hard on their craft. Nero sauntered down the ramp on the eastern side of the building, where leaned a Highlander man who looked like anything but a Highlander.
Rather than tall and bronzed, the man was short, pale, a bit portly, and scraggly. His unkempt ashen hair was kept in place by a haphazard bandana, and his face was pointed and narrow, like a rodent's. The adornments covering his body was a simple linen outfit, and a pair of sheathed stilettos hung from his side. The Highlander's grin revealed a few missing teeth as he glanced at Nero, who swiftly withdrew a pouch and tossed it at the rogue, whose vermin-like countenance had earned him the unflattering moniker of Ratface.
"Ye be providin' quite the greed t' keep me from blowin' me gab," Ratface said roughly as he eagerly opened the pouch and started counting.Â
Nero merely shrugged. "I make the necessary investments to keep my business running. You are one of those good investments," he said diplomatically, though truth be told the Midlander wanted nothing to do with the man. Â The smuggler disliked dealing with Ratface, but the latter and his various corrupt associates were so far the only reliable veil that Nero had from the Rogue's Guild, and what Ratface lacked in any sort of etiquette or pleasant qualities, he made up for in efficient information gathering. Ratface peered up at the smuggler, temporarily distracted from his coin counting.Â
"'eard one o' yer hangs out been floored," Ratface said idly.
"Who do the rogues suspect?" Nero said shrugging, though he was a bit alarmed that news had spread that quickly. The Highlander scowled.
"Mixi been tryin'a split 'em t'wards th' Executioners, but 'er mobs be thinkin' otherwise," Ratface said, scratching the back of his neck with a spindly hand. "If'n the ruffmans be catchin' the wrong rummy, ye bet yer millin' be imminent."
"As long as you keep doing what I pay you to do, that shouldn't be a problem," Nero said rather sharply. Ratface merely grinned and waved a hand. "Ye wanna be cookin' more eggs, ye be turnin' up the heat," he said.
"If it comes to that, your fee will increase," Nero replied, trying to keep the distaste out of his voice. Anyone who was anyone in Limsa Lominsa's underworld knew about Merlwyb's shadowy enforcers and that escaping their grasp was not a simple thing to do. That said, scum was still scum, and though the rogue's guild was not incompetent, they were not infallible either; many believed in that farce of a code, true, and many still like Ratface were willing to bend or break the rules to get ahead in coin or influence. The Highlander had the upper hand, and he knew it, and that was something Nero hated; so long as he was dependent on Ratface's protection from the rogues, Nero had to adhere to the scraggly Highlander's terms.
"Keep an eye out for me for any Ul'dahns that enter the city. Suspicious-looking types. You know the ones." Ratface tilted his head in curiosity.
"Funnily 'nuff, we already been lendin' our daddles gazin' fer some stranger coves. This be fer yer paddy warmin' up?"
"Possible and probable," the smuggler responded as he began to walk off. "Keep me posted and there'll be a reward as always."
Meeting with Ratface was only one of many things on the agenda. As he left the corner of Naldiq & Vymelli's, the paladin's words floated back to his mind.
"Do not give me reasons to try and fill my heart with hatred for you."
Nero had not deigned to respond. He couldn't think of one. He couldn't promise that he could give Roen what she was looking for.
It was far too late to turn back now.
