They had met at Buscarron’s, the remote tavern in the middle of the Black Shroud. A neutral territory, where an Immortal Flame sergeant, a Sultansworn, and a suspected accomplice to a pirate could meet without prying eyes and ears. It was a stormy night when Roen approached, the shelter of trees doing little to guard the building from pelting rain and howling winds. She looked up to the dark skies above, eyeing the storm somberly.
Roen did not suspect that either Osric Melkire nor Coatleque Crofte would try and arrest her. She still trusted them implicitly and hoped that they still had faith in her intentions for Ul’dah. But much had happened since Roen had last spoken to either of them, that she could not help but feel some measure of apprehension as she agreed to the meeting.
The paladin had not talked to Osric since, as she had heard, he had intervened on Verad Bellveil’s behalf. Mister Bellveil, whom she now considered a dear friend and trusted confidant, had been beaten within an ilm of his life by the Brass Blades--like as not for his participation in her movements against the Monetarists.
It still pained her deeply to think of the vicious attack. Roen had come to see him as he convalesced in Gridania, under the watchful eye of Kiht Jakkya--another dear friend--and the Morbolvine Clan. Seeing him in such a weakened state, despite his words of bravado and reassurance...it brought about such pang of guilt that Roen soon had to depart after making him promise to take his time to recover.
Suns later, thoughts of the Duskwight merchant and the rest of the people she had involved in this matter began to further solidify her resolve. They had put themselves at risk, therefore she had to do more to make their efforts worth something. And despite the fact that it began as an investigation into one Monetarist noble, Nero had opened her eyes to the fact that it had to become more than that. For all the suffering and for all the people who were trying to help her, it had to mean more than just the downfall of one man.
“You heard what Crofte said over the pearl,†Osric’s words pushed through her thoughts, bringing her attention to the fore. Roen glanced at the sergeant then the Sultansworn, both of whom were seated at the table across from her. The Immortal Flame wore a deep frown. "Explosives. He's makin' explosives. I already have one Askier t'deal with. Not sure I can handle two. Not sure the cities can take two."
Coatleque had inspected the warehouse at Moraby and had discovered that it was filled with garlean steel and empty containers that should have contained ceruleum cores. Both Crofte and Melkire immediately suspected the worst. The paladin looked between them, shaking her head. “If you think Nero is making explosives, you are mistaken.â€
"Roen, he is stockpiling ceruleum somewhere,†Crofte spoke calmly, but was regarding her carefully. "What else could he be using it for?"
"Might be fuel,†Osric grunted.
"Aye, that was my second thought, and it may explain the steel," the Sultansworn nodded.
Roen considered her next words carefully. Nero had confided in her what they were for. It was for the Soldier Dance. But that was his secret that he had entrusted to her, and she felt that she could not share it with anyone else. She was not even sure that the two people she trusted at this table would understand, or believe in Nero’s altruistic intentions. "It is not for explosives,†she said quietly. "He trusted me with that knowledge and I vowed not to break that trust. But he is not Askier. He is not planning on massive destruction of cities.†She glanced to Osric pointedly. “It is a deterrent.â€
"Deterrents only work as such if the folks what have them are known t'be willin' to use them.†Osric met her gaze squarely.
"Do you think him such a threat?" Roen blinked.
"I think him wronged and rightfully infuriated enough to possibly make such rash decisions, yes."
"He is not a foolish man. Nor is he wanting wanton destruction, even when wronged. He does want to improve things."
"Things are rarely improved through force,†Coatleque chimed in quietly.
Roen narrowed her eyes, eager to change the subject. “I heard of a recent bargain struck between you and Taeros, ser Crofte." It was something that Mister North had mentioned, but never elaborated on. His selective discretion had roused her curiosity then. She looked to Crofte expectantly.
The Sultansworn’s gaze was slow to meet the paladin’s. “Nor should you want to…though it does concern your welfare."
"Don't strike bargains for her welfare. Nat learned the hard way that all it earns you is a collar,†Osric said bluntly. Roen felt her own expression harden.
"Jameson wanted me to betray you to him. To lure you back to the city. He has no legal proof nor reason to detain you, so he wanted you to make yourself available for easy capture." Coatleque averted her eyes to the table in front of her. "I…gave him someone else as a distraction."
"Someone else?" Roen straightened, eyes widening. "Who...?"
"Not important. What is important is that I shall keep him distracted as long as necessary for you."
"Tell me it ain't Gharen.†Osric interrupted, his eyes narrowed. “I want to hear the words."
“It is not."
The sergeant then grinned. “Ain't me, is it?â€
The Sultansworn seemed taken aback as she stared at the Immortal Flame. "... No."
"Coatleque, I would not have you throw anyone to the wolves in my stead,†Roen implored, leaning forward. Roen rarely spoke the woman’s first name, and when she did so, it was to beseech a friend.
"Roen...this person volunteered. Please, just...do not waste the chance. I do not know how long his gaze can be held. He will surely find someone else to hunt you down."
Roen just stared at her, not certain what to say.
"Please just trust me," Coatleque murmured, her green eyes locking gaze with Roen’s.
"Enough," Osric cut in, angrier. "She's struck her bargain, and it's buyin' you time.†He pulled out a vial of white liquid and held it up to Crofte. "This is milkweed."
"So I see. But where did you get it?" Coatleque canted her head.
"We seized it from a warehouse. This is but one vial of many from one crate among several crates. We also seized more than a few somnus samples from another warehouse, and enough incriminating records from both. They belong at least in part to a certain fop what dresses in white. If not him, his employers. The lieutenant and I have been buildin' a case, with some help. This whole conflict with Nero could've been avoided from the start. It ought t'have been a Flames matter, given the foreign nature."
Roen fell silent, her eyes darting between the sergeant and the Sultansworn. It was obvious that Osric had come to a realization that she herself had not, and was driving the conversation elsewhere.
"Normally, the Syndicate and every authority in Ul'dah would look the other way, what with Brass Blades and their penchant for makin' off with illicit goods. But this conflict's been instigated. A fire's been fanned. A man was ordered executed without due process from the Hall. There are witnesses. There is physical evidence." Osric looked to both women in turn as he slipped the vial back beneath his shirt. "I intend to use it."
Crofte tapped her chin pensively. "To what end? You plan to ruin the man once and for all? Or to simply hold leverage?"
"The man is entirely too competent at stirrin' up suffering. It needs to end,†Osric said gruffly.
"Agreed,†Crofte nodded.
Roen shook her head. "He is responsible for much. But...he is also the man who arranges things for many Monetarists. I hoped to gather enough evidence to implicate and trap him. And perhaps use him against his employers as well."
"Nero wants to cut deep t'make things better. I'm content t'just cut out the bullet.†Osric shrugged.
Roen inhaled and steeled herself. She knew neither of them was going to like what she was about to say. "I want to do both, sergeant."
Osric met her words with a hard stare. Roen continued calmly. "If you remove one bullet, they will find another to replace it in the pistol. It may take some time, but the pistol still remains."
"I move slowly, but I get the job done without bloodshed,†the sergeant’s voice had lowered considerably.
Her own voice has taken a determined turn, her expression intent. "I do not mean to bring violence. Only sow more chaos and distrust amongst the Monetarists."
"I can't help you there,†Osric growled. "I won't."
Roen narrowed her eyes, her hand laid flat against the wooden grain of the table, as if to press her point. "From what I have seen and observed of the man, Taeros moves products, offers services, and arranges for things for his employers and for families that can pay. If his services and loyalties are held in suspect, then they may question their own alliances with each other." She finally flicked a glance back towards the Immortal Flame, an odd calm settling over her. "I know this is not what you wanted to hear, sergeant.â€
Osric stared down at the wooden table, teeth grinding hard as his fingers dug into his knees. He was not pleased.
"I am not cutting either. Only…waving the scalpel a little. To see who flinches."
Osric barked out a laugh. "Well, Crofte. I'm sure y'must be shocked."
The Sultansworn kept a placid expression in place. "I rarely am anymore."
"Gobshite."
"It appears Mister Lazarov may be rubbing off on dear Roen more than she is on him.†Coatleque regarded the paladin carefully from across the table.
Roen blinked. Was that true? Was she starting to see Nero’s way of things? Was she bending towards his radical views? Was she sympathizing with his needs to justify the means by the striving relentlessly towards the end no matter what the cost? She could not believe that. Where Nero saw her plans as not enough, Coatleque and Osric saw it as too much. She felt pulled in both directions. "I see the need for change. I just do not want to see the most radical plans come to fruition."
"Quite likely,†the sergeant grumbled.
"I do not want bloodshed,†Roen insisted. “But if some chaos can be thrown into their camp, mayhap the Royalist and those who support the Sultana can take advantage.†She shot both of them a look. “Are both of you so content to leave things as they are?"
"No. But I prefer the slow road.†Osric frowned. “I've an obligation to the little folk, t'make sure they don't get trampled."
Coatleque shook her head. "T'is not about contentment as much as knowing my place."
"There are too many that are already getting trampled, sergeant, everyday. I too do not want any more violence to come to those who already suffer. Nor innocents to become drawn into this crossfire. That is the last thing I would wish." She wanted them to understand that more should be done. That more could be done. "Turn the corrupt upon each other. Make them work against each other."
"You asked me somethin', once. I figure I'd better ask you now." Osric met her gaze again, his words deliberate. "Would you cut?"
Roen blinked slowly at Osric, the memory of their previous conversation jarring her conviction. "Do you think…this is cutting...?" her words came out quieter, shaken with uncertainty. "Is that how you see this?"
Osric bit his lower lip as if in thought, then shook his head. "Not yet, but you're on the edge of a knife." He added after a pause, "Don't fall."
The paladin and the sergeant stared at each other in silence for what felt like hours, before she nodded slowly. He then answered her with one of his own. It was an unspoken promise.
Osric then rose from his seat to go. "Ser? Anythin' else?"
Coatleque nodded to the Flame. "I will keep you informed of anything I find."
With a quick and sharp salute, the sergeant ducked out into the rain, leaving the two knights at the table. Coatleque broke the silence after two breaths. "Roen." She leaned forward to draw the paladin’s attention. Her voice held no accusation, only earnest curiosity. "I need to ask you...why? Why are you doing this? Trying to affect such change?"
Roen leaned back, exhaling slowly. "Because no one else sees the need for it, but I am beginning to." Her words were calm, unwavering. "The Syndicate walks and lives off the backs of the poor. And the refugees...they suffer so greatly beyond the walls, and yet nothing changes.
"Of course we all see the need. But how is that our place to act?"
"I see their desperation, and I see it driving Nero. Perhaps he has opened my eyes to it." She shook her head, determination swelling her chest. "Should someone not try? Just because it may be impossible does not mean the very idea should be dismissed."
Coatleque regarded her for a moment longer, before nodding."No, you are correct. Would that it were my place to try. But my place is to serve."
"He wants to try. He will give his life to try. And I chose to stand by him. I mean for this not to take his life, or his humanity."
"You still care for each other?"
That made the paladin pause. Roen looked back to the table between them, studying a random wooden grain. But she nodded.
"Why remain here then? Take him and go. Leave Eorzea. You still have family do you not? A chance to be happy? Ul'dah's troubles should not be your own."
Roen blinked, her hands curling into a ball on her lap. "That would be running away." She frowned inwardly that there was a part of her that considered that temptation even for an instant. "Ul'dah is in his blood. The Jewel's pain is his own. And it is also my home, however flawed it may be."
Coatleque smiled slightly. "True enough. I had hoped you would realize that just the same, but…still it is tempting?"
"I do wish..." she whispered, almost inaudible over the din of the tavern and the roaring storm outside. "I do wish that after all this is over…that there is some chance of happiness for him.â€
"I need you to understand something then." The Sultansworn sighed as she rose. "Perhaps for both of our sakes. You may hear some disturbing rumors soon. Whatever you think, I need you to know I am still your friend, and that I still mean to help you in mine own way."
Roen blinked, her eyes widening with some alarm as she watched the woman pull the turban back over her eyes. "Are you…alright?"
"Yes,†Coatleque said, and turned for the door. She paused as Roen rose from her seat, her gaze hidden beneath the fly-mask of the turban.
"It was me,†the Highlander said quietly, then strode for the door.
Roen blinked, not understanding at first, then she felt herself grow cold at the realization. She could only watch in stunned silence as the Sultansworn disappeared into the stormy night.
Roen did not suspect that either Osric Melkire nor Coatleque Crofte would try and arrest her. She still trusted them implicitly and hoped that they still had faith in her intentions for Ul’dah. But much had happened since Roen had last spoken to either of them, that she could not help but feel some measure of apprehension as she agreed to the meeting.
The paladin had not talked to Osric since, as she had heard, he had intervened on Verad Bellveil’s behalf. Mister Bellveil, whom she now considered a dear friend and trusted confidant, had been beaten within an ilm of his life by the Brass Blades--like as not for his participation in her movements against the Monetarists.
It still pained her deeply to think of the vicious attack. Roen had come to see him as he convalesced in Gridania, under the watchful eye of Kiht Jakkya--another dear friend--and the Morbolvine Clan. Seeing him in such a weakened state, despite his words of bravado and reassurance...it brought about such pang of guilt that Roen soon had to depart after making him promise to take his time to recover.
Suns later, thoughts of the Duskwight merchant and the rest of the people she had involved in this matter began to further solidify her resolve. They had put themselves at risk, therefore she had to do more to make their efforts worth something. And despite the fact that it began as an investigation into one Monetarist noble, Nero had opened her eyes to the fact that it had to become more than that. For all the suffering and for all the people who were trying to help her, it had to mean more than just the downfall of one man.
“You heard what Crofte said over the pearl,†Osric’s words pushed through her thoughts, bringing her attention to the fore. Roen glanced at the sergeant then the Sultansworn, both of whom were seated at the table across from her. The Immortal Flame wore a deep frown. "Explosives. He's makin' explosives. I already have one Askier t'deal with. Not sure I can handle two. Not sure the cities can take two."
Coatleque had inspected the warehouse at Moraby and had discovered that it was filled with garlean steel and empty containers that should have contained ceruleum cores. Both Crofte and Melkire immediately suspected the worst. The paladin looked between them, shaking her head. “If you think Nero is making explosives, you are mistaken.â€
"Roen, he is stockpiling ceruleum somewhere,†Crofte spoke calmly, but was regarding her carefully. "What else could he be using it for?"
"Might be fuel,†Osric grunted.
"Aye, that was my second thought, and it may explain the steel," the Sultansworn nodded.
Roen considered her next words carefully. Nero had confided in her what they were for. It was for the Soldier Dance. But that was his secret that he had entrusted to her, and she felt that she could not share it with anyone else. She was not even sure that the two people she trusted at this table would understand, or believe in Nero’s altruistic intentions. "It is not for explosives,†she said quietly. "He trusted me with that knowledge and I vowed not to break that trust. But he is not Askier. He is not planning on massive destruction of cities.†She glanced to Osric pointedly. “It is a deterrent.â€
"Deterrents only work as such if the folks what have them are known t'be willin' to use them.†Osric met her gaze squarely.
"Do you think him such a threat?" Roen blinked.
"I think him wronged and rightfully infuriated enough to possibly make such rash decisions, yes."
"He is not a foolish man. Nor is he wanting wanton destruction, even when wronged. He does want to improve things."
"Things are rarely improved through force,†Coatleque chimed in quietly.
Roen narrowed her eyes, eager to change the subject. “I heard of a recent bargain struck between you and Taeros, ser Crofte." It was something that Mister North had mentioned, but never elaborated on. His selective discretion had roused her curiosity then. She looked to Crofte expectantly.
The Sultansworn’s gaze was slow to meet the paladin’s. “Nor should you want to…though it does concern your welfare."
"Don't strike bargains for her welfare. Nat learned the hard way that all it earns you is a collar,†Osric said bluntly. Roen felt her own expression harden.
"Jameson wanted me to betray you to him. To lure you back to the city. He has no legal proof nor reason to detain you, so he wanted you to make yourself available for easy capture." Coatleque averted her eyes to the table in front of her. "I…gave him someone else as a distraction."
"Someone else?" Roen straightened, eyes widening. "Who...?"
"Not important. What is important is that I shall keep him distracted as long as necessary for you."
"Tell me it ain't Gharen.†Osric interrupted, his eyes narrowed. “I want to hear the words."
“It is not."
The sergeant then grinned. “Ain't me, is it?â€
The Sultansworn seemed taken aback as she stared at the Immortal Flame. "... No."
"Coatleque, I would not have you throw anyone to the wolves in my stead,†Roen implored, leaning forward. Roen rarely spoke the woman’s first name, and when she did so, it was to beseech a friend.
"Roen...this person volunteered. Please, just...do not waste the chance. I do not know how long his gaze can be held. He will surely find someone else to hunt you down."
Roen just stared at her, not certain what to say.
"Please just trust me," Coatleque murmured, her green eyes locking gaze with Roen’s.
"Enough," Osric cut in, angrier. "She's struck her bargain, and it's buyin' you time.†He pulled out a vial of white liquid and held it up to Crofte. "This is milkweed."
"So I see. But where did you get it?" Coatleque canted her head.
"We seized it from a warehouse. This is but one vial of many from one crate among several crates. We also seized more than a few somnus samples from another warehouse, and enough incriminating records from both. They belong at least in part to a certain fop what dresses in white. If not him, his employers. The lieutenant and I have been buildin' a case, with some help. This whole conflict with Nero could've been avoided from the start. It ought t'have been a Flames matter, given the foreign nature."
Roen fell silent, her eyes darting between the sergeant and the Sultansworn. It was obvious that Osric had come to a realization that she herself had not, and was driving the conversation elsewhere.
"Normally, the Syndicate and every authority in Ul'dah would look the other way, what with Brass Blades and their penchant for makin' off with illicit goods. But this conflict's been instigated. A fire's been fanned. A man was ordered executed without due process from the Hall. There are witnesses. There is physical evidence." Osric looked to both women in turn as he slipped the vial back beneath his shirt. "I intend to use it."
Crofte tapped her chin pensively. "To what end? You plan to ruin the man once and for all? Or to simply hold leverage?"
"The man is entirely too competent at stirrin' up suffering. It needs to end,†Osric said gruffly.
"Agreed,†Crofte nodded.
Roen shook her head. "He is responsible for much. But...he is also the man who arranges things for many Monetarists. I hoped to gather enough evidence to implicate and trap him. And perhaps use him against his employers as well."
"Nero wants to cut deep t'make things better. I'm content t'just cut out the bullet.†Osric shrugged.
Roen inhaled and steeled herself. She knew neither of them was going to like what she was about to say. "I want to do both, sergeant."
Osric met her words with a hard stare. Roen continued calmly. "If you remove one bullet, they will find another to replace it in the pistol. It may take some time, but the pistol still remains."
"I move slowly, but I get the job done without bloodshed,†the sergeant’s voice had lowered considerably.
Her own voice has taken a determined turn, her expression intent. "I do not mean to bring violence. Only sow more chaos and distrust amongst the Monetarists."
"I can't help you there,†Osric growled. "I won't."
Roen narrowed her eyes, her hand laid flat against the wooden grain of the table, as if to press her point. "From what I have seen and observed of the man, Taeros moves products, offers services, and arranges for things for his employers and for families that can pay. If his services and loyalties are held in suspect, then they may question their own alliances with each other." She finally flicked a glance back towards the Immortal Flame, an odd calm settling over her. "I know this is not what you wanted to hear, sergeant.â€
Osric stared down at the wooden table, teeth grinding hard as his fingers dug into his knees. He was not pleased.
"I am not cutting either. Only…waving the scalpel a little. To see who flinches."
Osric barked out a laugh. "Well, Crofte. I'm sure y'must be shocked."
The Sultansworn kept a placid expression in place. "I rarely am anymore."
"Gobshite."
"It appears Mister Lazarov may be rubbing off on dear Roen more than she is on him.†Coatleque regarded the paladin carefully from across the table.
Roen blinked. Was that true? Was she starting to see Nero’s way of things? Was she bending towards his radical views? Was she sympathizing with his needs to justify the means by the striving relentlessly towards the end no matter what the cost? She could not believe that. Where Nero saw her plans as not enough, Coatleque and Osric saw it as too much. She felt pulled in both directions. "I see the need for change. I just do not want to see the most radical plans come to fruition."
"Quite likely,†the sergeant grumbled.
"I do not want bloodshed,†Roen insisted. “But if some chaos can be thrown into their camp, mayhap the Royalist and those who support the Sultana can take advantage.†She shot both of them a look. “Are both of you so content to leave things as they are?"
"No. But I prefer the slow road.†Osric frowned. “I've an obligation to the little folk, t'make sure they don't get trampled."
Coatleque shook her head. "T'is not about contentment as much as knowing my place."
"There are too many that are already getting trampled, sergeant, everyday. I too do not want any more violence to come to those who already suffer. Nor innocents to become drawn into this crossfire. That is the last thing I would wish." She wanted them to understand that more should be done. That more could be done. "Turn the corrupt upon each other. Make them work against each other."
"You asked me somethin', once. I figure I'd better ask you now." Osric met her gaze again, his words deliberate. "Would you cut?"
Roen blinked slowly at Osric, the memory of their previous conversation jarring her conviction. "Do you think…this is cutting...?" her words came out quieter, shaken with uncertainty. "Is that how you see this?"
Osric bit his lower lip as if in thought, then shook his head. "Not yet, but you're on the edge of a knife." He added after a pause, "Don't fall."
The paladin and the sergeant stared at each other in silence for what felt like hours, before she nodded slowly. He then answered her with one of his own. It was an unspoken promise.
Osric then rose from his seat to go. "Ser? Anythin' else?"
Coatleque nodded to the Flame. "I will keep you informed of anything I find."
With a quick and sharp salute, the sergeant ducked out into the rain, leaving the two knights at the table. Coatleque broke the silence after two breaths. "Roen." She leaned forward to draw the paladin’s attention. Her voice held no accusation, only earnest curiosity. "I need to ask you...why? Why are you doing this? Trying to affect such change?"
Roen leaned back, exhaling slowly. "Because no one else sees the need for it, but I am beginning to." Her words were calm, unwavering. "The Syndicate walks and lives off the backs of the poor. And the refugees...they suffer so greatly beyond the walls, and yet nothing changes.
"Of course we all see the need. But how is that our place to act?"
"I see their desperation, and I see it driving Nero. Perhaps he has opened my eyes to it." She shook her head, determination swelling her chest. "Should someone not try? Just because it may be impossible does not mean the very idea should be dismissed."
Coatleque regarded her for a moment longer, before nodding."No, you are correct. Would that it were my place to try. But my place is to serve."
"He wants to try. He will give his life to try. And I chose to stand by him. I mean for this not to take his life, or his humanity."
"You still care for each other?"
That made the paladin pause. Roen looked back to the table between them, studying a random wooden grain. But she nodded.
"Why remain here then? Take him and go. Leave Eorzea. You still have family do you not? A chance to be happy? Ul'dah's troubles should not be your own."
Roen blinked, her hands curling into a ball on her lap. "That would be running away." She frowned inwardly that there was a part of her that considered that temptation even for an instant. "Ul'dah is in his blood. The Jewel's pain is his own. And it is also my home, however flawed it may be."
Coatleque smiled slightly. "True enough. I had hoped you would realize that just the same, but…still it is tempting?"
"I do wish..." she whispered, almost inaudible over the din of the tavern and the roaring storm outside. "I do wish that after all this is over…that there is some chance of happiness for him.â€
"I need you to understand something then." The Sultansworn sighed as she rose. "Perhaps for both of our sakes. You may hear some disturbing rumors soon. Whatever you think, I need you to know I am still your friend, and that I still mean to help you in mine own way."
Roen blinked, her eyes widening with some alarm as she watched the woman pull the turban back over her eyes. "Are you…alright?"
"Yes,†Coatleque said, and turned for the door. She paused as Roen rose from her seat, her gaze hidden beneath the fly-mask of the turban.
"It was me,†the Highlander said quietly, then strode for the door.
Roen blinked, not understanding at first, then she felt herself grow cold at the realization. She could only watch in stunned silence as the Sultansworn disappeared into the stormy night.
