The Elezen was a pitiful sight to behold. His head hung slack and his robe had been taken away, revealing a slight frame battered and bruised by the Blades that had arrested him. His face was gaunt and his ribcage was noticeable, the skin of his chest stretched tight across his bones.The chains of the iron bonds that held his wrists jingled as he began to stir awake. When he tilted his head up slightly to notice who was standing on the other side of the bars, he let out an annoyed snort and looked away.
Roen had no sympathy to spare for the man. She had been sneaked into the Blades gaol by Broken Nose after he claimed jurisdiction over the incident in Pearl Lane. She only had until the Flames arrived before she had to make herself scarce. She had insisted on questioning the prisoner first, before the others could put him to question. She had to know.
“I need you to answer some questions for me,†the paladin said calmly, breaking the silence between them.
The Elezen barked out a laugh, or tried to. What came out was frustrated sputtering and hacking coughs. "I don't recall asking for one of the Jewel's whores," he finally snarled contemptuously.
"Continuing to resist will only make things harder for you.†Roen sighed patiently. “It does not have to be that way."
"Oh, so that's how it goes, then?" the Elezen sneered. "First it's 'I'll break all your teeth out one by one if you don't talk,' and now it's 'You're only making it harder on yourself.'" The bandit tried to spit at her from the back of the cell. The projectile fell short, but the message could not have been clearer.
Roen frowned. She knew the brutal methods that the Blades employed, she had been part of their organization once. His words of such threats were not false. "You did fire a gun. In the streets of Ul'dah. That alone could have gotten you killed."
"I've fired dozens of guns in the streets of Ul'dah. This just happens to be the first instance of any o' you clueless gobshites noticing it."
"It is not a common thing, the weapon you wielded, that pistol. Where did you get it?"
The Elezen scowled. "The Holy See o' Ishgard gave it to me himself.â€
“It was well made.†Roen slid her arms across the bars, coming to lean on the crossbar. "I suspect I know who might have supplied those weapons." A part of her already felt a hint of dread seizing the air in her chest. She hated what she was thinking. "I only need you to confirm a few things. In exchange, you tell me what you want. I will see what I can do."
The bandit’s scowl turned into a vitriolic smirk. "Oh, I see. I'll have a few ribs intact by the end of this moon if I just tell you everything you want to know, is that it?" He turned his head away. "Go waste someone else's time, stuck-up bitch..."
She bowed her head for a moment, shaking it slightly. "I will not lie to you. What I can probably get you is limited. But..." she sighed. "What else will you do?" She frowned, hesitating a moment on her next words. "I am trying to help. I am working with someone who wants to help you.â€
The Elezen said nothing, his head turned to stare at the wall. The silence continued for several more minutes before he spoke again. "The guns came from my boss, and no way in the hells would I be tellin' you where he is." The scowl returned. "'sides, that face of yours says that you already know. You just haven't admitted it yet."
Roen blinked and she felt herself stiffen slightly. Her voice had quieted even more although she was now struggling to keep it as even as possible. "When did you get them...? These guns." Her mind was already racing to calculate how long it had been since Nero’s wagons were confiscated.
The prisoner’s expression mellowed somewhat, though it was still undeniably belligerent. "A long while ago. Just ain't bothered using them until now. Got'em long enough ago to spend time learnin' to use them," the Elezen said, his expression curling into annoyance. "I ain't telling you no more shite."
The paladin slid her arms out of the bars, crouching down to meet his gaze at eye level. “What will you be telling them?†She glanced warily to the door even as she whispered the question.
"Hah!" the Elezen barked. "A few bells in their loving care and I won't be havin' a jaw that can tell them anything." He seemed resigned to his fate yet defiant, even as his emaciated arms shook against the manacles.
Roen exhaled, her shoulders sagging. She recalled hearing about Natalie’s methods of interrogation; the Sworn had methodically pulled out Delial’s fingernails one by one as she asked each question. It was not just the Blades who were known for their cruelty. The paladin shuddered to think what the Elezen may face with his unwillingness to cooperate. But there was a part of her that also feared what he would tell them about who had smuggled in the guns. "Is there anything I can do for you?" she finally asked, her voice too resigned.
Another contemptuous "tch" escaped from the prisoner's mouth. "Maybe show up in less clothing next time. Or stick a few of those bastards on your way out," he sneered.
She sighed again, glancing one more time toward the door. "Do you not want to make some difference before you meet your fate?"
The Elezen merely glared at her. "I'll tell you this much. If you kick people often enough, sooner or later they'll learn to kick back. As for difference? Hah! What difference? Only ones who make differences are people with money. People who can tell other people what to do. There ain't nothing for us to do, cause we don't want change. We want a war."
Roen leaned in, frowning. "And what would a war accomplish?"
The bandit smirked. "Pay evil unto evil. You can't change this cesspool. We're just little kids, breaking mommy's vases for attention. When she don't notice the vases, we steal the jewelry. When she don't notice the jewelry, we smash the windows. When she don't notice the windows, why, we'll just burn the houses down. That's all them rich people care about, so we make them notice us. They won't be turnin' away. Not this time. Not when their blood be spillin' down their gilded steps and their servants be pleadin'. No, we ain't gonna be ignored anymore."
"...And then what..?" the paladin rasped.
His hateful glower became more vehement, more intense, as if his glares alone could murder someone. But soon it began to subside. "Then? Then the rich people's rich friends come along, and kill us all for gettin' their carpets dirty. And that'll be that. Cause ain't that how it always ends? Cause to them, people are trash. Just refuse you can sweep under the rug, and when the garbage start pilin' up, you just hire someone to burn it away for you."
Roen shook her head, her expression now full of dread and sadness. "Then why do this? If that is the end your foresee? There has to be a better way. People are not refuse. Do you not see? Even as you suffer under their foot, you still believe as they do. You still propagate what is so wrong with this place."
Suddenly, the prisoner thrashed violently against the shackles and the iron bar clanged as the chains rattled in his rage. "Then what would you have us do, you arrogant bitch? You can go eat shite, you and your better way! You know what a better way means for someone like me?! It means not watchin' my sister starve! It means findin' a place to sleep where I won't wake up with roaches! It means killin' everyone who tries to rob us! It means not havin' to consider slavery just to get food at the end o' the day!"
The Elezen's spindly, too-thin form flailed like a bundle of sticks as he practically frothed at the mouth. "When's the last godsdamned time you went hungry?! When's the last time you had to stare at mold on your goddamned bread?! No, I don't see you, blind justice-sucking harlot! You wanna know why?! I'm too godsdamned busy starin' at my own ribs! I'm too busy lookin' at the places the poor aren't allowed! I'm too busy lookin' at a city, who don't give a single godsdamned shite! You can go rutting yourself with your godsdamned better way till your own daddy can't tell you from the whores on the street!"
His last vitriolic words echoed off the hard stone walls as the outburst seemed to drain all of the energy from the Elezen; he laid panting in the aftermath of his rage. Cold sweat dripped from his face, running down a thin nose and gaunt cheeks as he stared at the ground, battered breaths drawing attention to the frail chest that drew them.
Roen bowed her head, her forehead coming to lean against the bar. "You are right," she confessed quietly. "I have not suffered as you have. I do not know poverty as you do. And perhaps that makes me naive. But there is nothing that would ever convince me that killing others, bathing the streets in blood just for attention is ever the right solution." She frowned at seeing his labored breathing. "I wish someday, you would be able to see the change come." Her words were quieter, saddened. She doubted he would survive this imprisonment.
"Get away from me," he rasped in disgust. His torso heaved as he hacked and wheezed out several painful coughs, the spittle stained crimson with blood.
The paladin rose back to her feet, letting out a long sigh. He clearly suspected she knew who had delivered the guns. And perhaps she already did. When she turned for the doors, he rasped grimly, "He…he'll punish this city." The Elezen’s gaze seemed gripped with delirium. "Everything. Everyone who stood by and watched. No shelter from the storm that's coming."
Roen stood still for a moment longer before striding toward the door. She heard the last of his words, rasped softly, echo off the walls:
"Everyone's gonna die. By fire and smoke and steel and a shower of blood."
Roen had no sympathy to spare for the man. She had been sneaked into the Blades gaol by Broken Nose after he claimed jurisdiction over the incident in Pearl Lane. She only had until the Flames arrived before she had to make herself scarce. She had insisted on questioning the prisoner first, before the others could put him to question. She had to know.
“I need you to answer some questions for me,†the paladin said calmly, breaking the silence between them.
The Elezen barked out a laugh, or tried to. What came out was frustrated sputtering and hacking coughs. "I don't recall asking for one of the Jewel's whores," he finally snarled contemptuously.
"Continuing to resist will only make things harder for you.†Roen sighed patiently. “It does not have to be that way."
"Oh, so that's how it goes, then?" the Elezen sneered. "First it's 'I'll break all your teeth out one by one if you don't talk,' and now it's 'You're only making it harder on yourself.'" The bandit tried to spit at her from the back of the cell. The projectile fell short, but the message could not have been clearer.
Roen frowned. She knew the brutal methods that the Blades employed, she had been part of their organization once. His words of such threats were not false. "You did fire a gun. In the streets of Ul'dah. That alone could have gotten you killed."
"I've fired dozens of guns in the streets of Ul'dah. This just happens to be the first instance of any o' you clueless gobshites noticing it."
"It is not a common thing, the weapon you wielded, that pistol. Where did you get it?"
The Elezen scowled. "The Holy See o' Ishgard gave it to me himself.â€
“It was well made.†Roen slid her arms across the bars, coming to lean on the crossbar. "I suspect I know who might have supplied those weapons." A part of her already felt a hint of dread seizing the air in her chest. She hated what she was thinking. "I only need you to confirm a few things. In exchange, you tell me what you want. I will see what I can do."
The bandit’s scowl turned into a vitriolic smirk. "Oh, I see. I'll have a few ribs intact by the end of this moon if I just tell you everything you want to know, is that it?" He turned his head away. "Go waste someone else's time, stuck-up bitch..."
She bowed her head for a moment, shaking it slightly. "I will not lie to you. What I can probably get you is limited. But..." she sighed. "What else will you do?" She frowned, hesitating a moment on her next words. "I am trying to help. I am working with someone who wants to help you.â€
The Elezen said nothing, his head turned to stare at the wall. The silence continued for several more minutes before he spoke again. "The guns came from my boss, and no way in the hells would I be tellin' you where he is." The scowl returned. "'sides, that face of yours says that you already know. You just haven't admitted it yet."
Roen blinked and she felt herself stiffen slightly. Her voice had quieted even more although she was now struggling to keep it as even as possible. "When did you get them...? These guns." Her mind was already racing to calculate how long it had been since Nero’s wagons were confiscated.
The prisoner’s expression mellowed somewhat, though it was still undeniably belligerent. "A long while ago. Just ain't bothered using them until now. Got'em long enough ago to spend time learnin' to use them," the Elezen said, his expression curling into annoyance. "I ain't telling you no more shite."
The paladin slid her arms out of the bars, crouching down to meet his gaze at eye level. “What will you be telling them?†She glanced warily to the door even as she whispered the question.
"Hah!" the Elezen barked. "A few bells in their loving care and I won't be havin' a jaw that can tell them anything." He seemed resigned to his fate yet defiant, even as his emaciated arms shook against the manacles.
Roen exhaled, her shoulders sagging. She recalled hearing about Natalie’s methods of interrogation; the Sworn had methodically pulled out Delial’s fingernails one by one as she asked each question. It was not just the Blades who were known for their cruelty. The paladin shuddered to think what the Elezen may face with his unwillingness to cooperate. But there was a part of her that also feared what he would tell them about who had smuggled in the guns. "Is there anything I can do for you?" she finally asked, her voice too resigned.
Another contemptuous "tch" escaped from the prisoner's mouth. "Maybe show up in less clothing next time. Or stick a few of those bastards on your way out," he sneered.
She sighed again, glancing one more time toward the door. "Do you not want to make some difference before you meet your fate?"
The Elezen merely glared at her. "I'll tell you this much. If you kick people often enough, sooner or later they'll learn to kick back. As for difference? Hah! What difference? Only ones who make differences are people with money. People who can tell other people what to do. There ain't nothing for us to do, cause we don't want change. We want a war."
Roen leaned in, frowning. "And what would a war accomplish?"
The bandit smirked. "Pay evil unto evil. You can't change this cesspool. We're just little kids, breaking mommy's vases for attention. When she don't notice the vases, we steal the jewelry. When she don't notice the jewelry, we smash the windows. When she don't notice the windows, why, we'll just burn the houses down. That's all them rich people care about, so we make them notice us. They won't be turnin' away. Not this time. Not when their blood be spillin' down their gilded steps and their servants be pleadin'. No, we ain't gonna be ignored anymore."
"...And then what..?" the paladin rasped.
His hateful glower became more vehement, more intense, as if his glares alone could murder someone. But soon it began to subside. "Then? Then the rich people's rich friends come along, and kill us all for gettin' their carpets dirty. And that'll be that. Cause ain't that how it always ends? Cause to them, people are trash. Just refuse you can sweep under the rug, and when the garbage start pilin' up, you just hire someone to burn it away for you."
Roen shook her head, her expression now full of dread and sadness. "Then why do this? If that is the end your foresee? There has to be a better way. People are not refuse. Do you not see? Even as you suffer under their foot, you still believe as they do. You still propagate what is so wrong with this place."
Suddenly, the prisoner thrashed violently against the shackles and the iron bar clanged as the chains rattled in his rage. "Then what would you have us do, you arrogant bitch? You can go eat shite, you and your better way! You know what a better way means for someone like me?! It means not watchin' my sister starve! It means findin' a place to sleep where I won't wake up with roaches! It means killin' everyone who tries to rob us! It means not havin' to consider slavery just to get food at the end o' the day!"
The Elezen's spindly, too-thin form flailed like a bundle of sticks as he practically frothed at the mouth. "When's the last godsdamned time you went hungry?! When's the last time you had to stare at mold on your goddamned bread?! No, I don't see you, blind justice-sucking harlot! You wanna know why?! I'm too godsdamned busy starin' at my own ribs! I'm too busy lookin' at the places the poor aren't allowed! I'm too busy lookin' at a city, who don't give a single godsdamned shite! You can go rutting yourself with your godsdamned better way till your own daddy can't tell you from the whores on the street!"
His last vitriolic words echoed off the hard stone walls as the outburst seemed to drain all of the energy from the Elezen; he laid panting in the aftermath of his rage. Cold sweat dripped from his face, running down a thin nose and gaunt cheeks as he stared at the ground, battered breaths drawing attention to the frail chest that drew them.
Roen bowed her head, her forehead coming to lean against the bar. "You are right," she confessed quietly. "I have not suffered as you have. I do not know poverty as you do. And perhaps that makes me naive. But there is nothing that would ever convince me that killing others, bathing the streets in blood just for attention is ever the right solution." She frowned at seeing his labored breathing. "I wish someday, you would be able to see the change come." Her words were quieter, saddened. She doubted he would survive this imprisonment.
"Get away from me," he rasped in disgust. His torso heaved as he hacked and wheezed out several painful coughs, the spittle stained crimson with blood.
The paladin rose back to her feet, letting out a long sigh. He clearly suspected she knew who had delivered the guns. And perhaps she already did. When she turned for the doors, he rasped grimly, "He…he'll punish this city." The Elezen’s gaze seemed gripped with delirium. "Everything. Everyone who stood by and watched. No shelter from the storm that's coming."
Roen stood still for a moment longer before striding toward the door. She heard the last of his words, rasped softly, echo off the walls:
"Everyone's gonna die. By fire and smoke and steel and a shower of blood."
