The alley was briefly filled with blinding light. The Elezen grunted as he covered his eyes with his good hand. The sounds of bodies shuffling in the chaos intensified as the Wildwood kept his eyes shut tightly for several seconds that felt like years.
"Multiple targets up top!" came the unknown voice again in a distinctly feminine timbre. As his vision gradually returned, it was impossible for the Elezen to know whether the threat of reinforcements was real or fake. A few scant moments were spent scanning the ground for the pistol which had been kicked away in the chaos. The Elezen's lips curled into a snarl. The rising crescendo of boots on pavement echoed in the distance, likely the authorities. Any shouted commands were unlikely to be heard, so he placed his fingers to his mouth and produced a loud, sharp whistle.Â
On cue the windows that the riflemen had been using slammed shut, one after the other. It was fortunate that most of Ul'dah ignored the run-down buildings of Pearl Lane; walls were easily knocked out to make passages between buildings, and there was nobody there to protest besides the occasional squatters. Assuming that nobody was there with them, the riflemen could easily make a hasty retreat, and the weapons themselves stored in such a way that it would be it would be highly improbable that anyone with any sort of actual authority would be able to identify which of the many bandit gangs had been using them.
Meanwhile, the Midlander had managed to recover from the shield bash as the chaos ensued, and pulled out his own pistol. Blood streamed down his nose and his disorientation showed as he aimed it at the one who had attacked him and pulled the trigger, but the bullet missed narrowly, whistling past the newcomer's hood.
--
"You get your gods-damned eyes on the Blades now before I pull your eyes out with pliers!"
"There's a lot of chaos. It's not--"
"You do as I say or I will personally pull out your spine through your throat!"
The crew had awkwardly shuffled away as their captain raged in his cabin. It was not the usual tranquil fury or smoldering glares, but it was a full-blown inferno of enmity and frustration. Nero paced back and forth restlessly, clenching and unclenching his fist as his other hand lay pressed against the ear. The crack in the window to his cabin had scarcely been repaired and already another one had been made next to it. The pearl made a soft chime again. On the one hand, it had been worth it to pay some people to keep an eye on Scythe and his gang; on the other hand, when one pays street rats and petty underworld brokers, one can hardly expect professionalism.
The report had come in naught but a few minutes ago. Firearms had been discharged in Ul'dah's Pearl Lane. The tentative assessment was that Scythe had been muscling in on another gang's territory and the confrontation had gone south. In the span of ninety seconds, Nero had thought of a varied litany of curses on Scythe, his parents, his grandparents, his future children and any pets he might have owned.
Surely now, though, the bandits had the attention of the Brass Blades and the Sultansworn. The rule of Ul'dah was that the nail that sticks out gets hammered down; breaking the law was only a problem when it made trouble for someone with power. Out of sight, out of mind, and the bandits had made a mistake in letting their presence be noticed.
That idiot had acted without thinking! This could ruin everything! All it would take is one confiscated firearm and the Monetarists had the ammunition to turn the public opinion on Limsa Lominsa. This wasn't supposed to happen. Nero had known for a while that Scythe had started using his newfound firepower to strongarm territory and men away from the other gangs, but so long as everything stayed quiet, it was not a problem. Scythe was the kind of dog where pulling at the leash too hard made him try to break it that much more often. The territory grabs were concessions, but now it had spiraled out of control.
"There's someone else fighting down there. No uniform."
"Description," Nero snapped.
"Robed; can't tell if they're man or woman. Some people saw a flash of light; must have been magic. No smoke from an explosion besides the firearms. Shouting. Blades are moving."
"Just...get out of there," Nero said, his voice straining to control his temper.
A gods-damned paladin, then. But who? If they were wearing robes, they were attempting to conceal their identity. If there was no visible uniform, it was someone who had to resort to subterfuge to move through the city. Might it have been a member of the Sultansworn? Surely their uniforms were shiny enough to blind all passersby with their conceited self-righteousness, but more than likely it was one of the so-called "free paladins".
Nero's face twisted in contempt. Was it Roen? If she had stumbled upon a gang fight, she would have impulsively jumped in to stop the bloodshed, the idiot girl. A small part of him sincerely hoped it was not, but anything was possible at this point.
She was the last thing he cared about right now though. There had to be a way to salvage this. Assume a worst case scenario and execute a plan based on that. Scythe was the most dangerous kind of brainless thug; one who was smart enough to make simple plans, but lacking in the foresight and patience to initiate anything of genuine success. In short, he was simultaneously the best pawn to have and the pawn that was the hardest to control.
No, no, there was still a way to turn this around. The firearms would be identified as Limsan, but they couldn't be linked to Nero. In actuality, does this outbreak of violence not help his case? The more he thought about it, the more it made sense to him. This happened not because of Limsan weapons, but because the Monetarists couldn't give a rat's ass as to whether the bandits were in the city. After all, the bandits regularly preyed on refugees and travelers and used their spoils to bribe the Brass Blades and bureaucrats, both of which were on the Monetarist's payroll. So long as the bandits didn't target trade caravans or anything that made a noticeable impact on the Monetarist's revenue, they were permitted to do as they pleased. The gangs formed because of the enormous economic disparity in Ul'dah, and said disparity was enforced by the Monetarists in order to keep the gil flowing.
Propaganda. That was what he needed. This onset of violence and corruption was because the Syndicate cared naught for order unless it affected their pocketbooks.Â
Yes, there was still a way to turn this around.Â
But I have to work quickly, or everything is lost.
"Multiple targets up top!" came the unknown voice again in a distinctly feminine timbre. As his vision gradually returned, it was impossible for the Elezen to know whether the threat of reinforcements was real or fake. A few scant moments were spent scanning the ground for the pistol which had been kicked away in the chaos. The Elezen's lips curled into a snarl. The rising crescendo of boots on pavement echoed in the distance, likely the authorities. Any shouted commands were unlikely to be heard, so he placed his fingers to his mouth and produced a loud, sharp whistle.Â
On cue the windows that the riflemen had been using slammed shut, one after the other. It was fortunate that most of Ul'dah ignored the run-down buildings of Pearl Lane; walls were easily knocked out to make passages between buildings, and there was nobody there to protest besides the occasional squatters. Assuming that nobody was there with them, the riflemen could easily make a hasty retreat, and the weapons themselves stored in such a way that it would be it would be highly improbable that anyone with any sort of actual authority would be able to identify which of the many bandit gangs had been using them.
Meanwhile, the Midlander had managed to recover from the shield bash as the chaos ensued, and pulled out his own pistol. Blood streamed down his nose and his disorientation showed as he aimed it at the one who had attacked him and pulled the trigger, but the bullet missed narrowly, whistling past the newcomer's hood.
--
"You get your gods-damned eyes on the Blades now before I pull your eyes out with pliers!"
"There's a lot of chaos. It's not--"
"You do as I say or I will personally pull out your spine through your throat!"
The crew had awkwardly shuffled away as their captain raged in his cabin. It was not the usual tranquil fury or smoldering glares, but it was a full-blown inferno of enmity and frustration. Nero paced back and forth restlessly, clenching and unclenching his fist as his other hand lay pressed against the ear. The crack in the window to his cabin had scarcely been repaired and already another one had been made next to it. The pearl made a soft chime again. On the one hand, it had been worth it to pay some people to keep an eye on Scythe and his gang; on the other hand, when one pays street rats and petty underworld brokers, one can hardly expect professionalism.
The report had come in naught but a few minutes ago. Firearms had been discharged in Ul'dah's Pearl Lane. The tentative assessment was that Scythe had been muscling in on another gang's territory and the confrontation had gone south. In the span of ninety seconds, Nero had thought of a varied litany of curses on Scythe, his parents, his grandparents, his future children and any pets he might have owned.
Surely now, though, the bandits had the attention of the Brass Blades and the Sultansworn. The rule of Ul'dah was that the nail that sticks out gets hammered down; breaking the law was only a problem when it made trouble for someone with power. Out of sight, out of mind, and the bandits had made a mistake in letting their presence be noticed.
That idiot had acted without thinking! This could ruin everything! All it would take is one confiscated firearm and the Monetarists had the ammunition to turn the public opinion on Limsa Lominsa. This wasn't supposed to happen. Nero had known for a while that Scythe had started using his newfound firepower to strongarm territory and men away from the other gangs, but so long as everything stayed quiet, it was not a problem. Scythe was the kind of dog where pulling at the leash too hard made him try to break it that much more often. The territory grabs were concessions, but now it had spiraled out of control.
"There's someone else fighting down there. No uniform."
"Description," Nero snapped.
"Robed; can't tell if they're man or woman. Some people saw a flash of light; must have been magic. No smoke from an explosion besides the firearms. Shouting. Blades are moving."
"Just...get out of there," Nero said, his voice straining to control his temper.
A gods-damned paladin, then. But who? If they were wearing robes, they were attempting to conceal their identity. If there was no visible uniform, it was someone who had to resort to subterfuge to move through the city. Might it have been a member of the Sultansworn? Surely their uniforms were shiny enough to blind all passersby with their conceited self-righteousness, but more than likely it was one of the so-called "free paladins".
Nero's face twisted in contempt. Was it Roen? If she had stumbled upon a gang fight, she would have impulsively jumped in to stop the bloodshed, the idiot girl. A small part of him sincerely hoped it was not, but anything was possible at this point.
She was the last thing he cared about right now though. There had to be a way to salvage this. Assume a worst case scenario and execute a plan based on that. Scythe was the most dangerous kind of brainless thug; one who was smart enough to make simple plans, but lacking in the foresight and patience to initiate anything of genuine success. In short, he was simultaneously the best pawn to have and the pawn that was the hardest to control.
No, no, there was still a way to turn this around. The firearms would be identified as Limsan, but they couldn't be linked to Nero. In actuality, does this outbreak of violence not help his case? The more he thought about it, the more it made sense to him. This happened not because of Limsan weapons, but because the Monetarists couldn't give a rat's ass as to whether the bandits were in the city. After all, the bandits regularly preyed on refugees and travelers and used their spoils to bribe the Brass Blades and bureaucrats, both of which were on the Monetarist's payroll. So long as the bandits didn't target trade caravans or anything that made a noticeable impact on the Monetarist's revenue, they were permitted to do as they pleased. The gangs formed because of the enormous economic disparity in Ul'dah, and said disparity was enforced by the Monetarists in order to keep the gil flowing.
Propaganda. That was what he needed. This onset of violence and corruption was because the Syndicate cared naught for order unless it affected their pocketbooks.Â
Yes, there was still a way to turn this around.Â
But I have to work quickly, or everything is lost.
