The tapping of his finger matched the rhythm of the chronometer on his desk. Nero was doing aught but staring at the small, rectangular case of linkpearls. The esoteric labels were still affixed to the inner surface of the lid, a testament to the thoroughness with which he had ingratiated himself in a relatively broad information network.
None of the agents he paid were under his employ, per se. Regardless of location, whether it be Limsa Lominsa or Ul'dah, information flowed like water in that it went to wherever it could reach; pay someone for some scandalous tidbits one day, and if you weren't careful you could find your own tidbits being scattered about like dandelions. The aforementioned agents were something akin to valves or distribution channels, who could be paid to alter the flow of information or attempt to stifle it completely. Nero was very selective when it came to using his networks, often only using them as message proxies or to pick out the occasional leaf in the stream, so to speak.
Previously when he'd made his deal with Scythe, the smuggler had decided against sharing a direct linkpearl out of practicality. Neither of them trusted the other and that linkpearl would be more than enough hard evidence of a connection in the case one or both of them buggered things up beyond all belief. However, the lack of direct communication with the bandit meant that Nero had to be deliberately vague about his messages made by proxy, as there was no way of being certain that the agent he was contacting wasn't immediately selling such info.Â
The Hyur sighed, rubbing his forehead. His lethargy had effectively paralyzed most of his habits, and he'd barely deigned to even get dressed after awakening.
The question, of course, was whether or not he could dissuade Scythe, or even if he wanted to. Ernis Randolph was a man that held grudges, with a particularly dark one held against Ul'dah's aristocracy. Even if Nero hadn't supplied the man with guns, eventually Scythe would have sought out firepower from somewhere and eventually gotten it. From what Nero discovered, the man had been continuously battling the other gangs for funds, and rumour had it that he'd even lead a few raiding parties or two near Thanalan's borders.
Of course, he paid his dues to the Brass Blades whenever they came around like a good little Ul'dahn gangster, and it wasn't up until now that Scythe's position in Pearl Lane was threatened, although the word "threatened" was a rather laughable hyperbole to Nero, given that the most resistance the gangster would encounter is a couple of Sultansworn at best. The Syndicate wouldn't care unless their income was affected, and as long as Scythe remained below the gil line, the Highlander wouldn't need to be worried about much.
His finger tapping continued. Let things continue as they are? Worst comes to worse, Scythe and all of his cronies get jailed or killed--and really, in Ul'dah what's the difference--and nothing happens. Perhaps a tear should be shed for whoever was stupid enough to be caught in the crossfire, but it was doubtful. If Scythe's personality hadn't changed since a few decades ago, then the worst as far as civilian casualties would go would be the nobles' servants, whichever was idiotic enough to resist the angry mob of gangsters wielding swords and guns.
Another sigh, and he closed the linkpearl case with a decisive click.
Let things play out.
After all, it didn't involve him anymore.
None of the agents he paid were under his employ, per se. Regardless of location, whether it be Limsa Lominsa or Ul'dah, information flowed like water in that it went to wherever it could reach; pay someone for some scandalous tidbits one day, and if you weren't careful you could find your own tidbits being scattered about like dandelions. The aforementioned agents were something akin to valves or distribution channels, who could be paid to alter the flow of information or attempt to stifle it completely. Nero was very selective when it came to using his networks, often only using them as message proxies or to pick out the occasional leaf in the stream, so to speak.
Previously when he'd made his deal with Scythe, the smuggler had decided against sharing a direct linkpearl out of practicality. Neither of them trusted the other and that linkpearl would be more than enough hard evidence of a connection in the case one or both of them buggered things up beyond all belief. However, the lack of direct communication with the bandit meant that Nero had to be deliberately vague about his messages made by proxy, as there was no way of being certain that the agent he was contacting wasn't immediately selling such info.Â
The Hyur sighed, rubbing his forehead. His lethargy had effectively paralyzed most of his habits, and he'd barely deigned to even get dressed after awakening.
The question, of course, was whether or not he could dissuade Scythe, or even if he wanted to. Ernis Randolph was a man that held grudges, with a particularly dark one held against Ul'dah's aristocracy. Even if Nero hadn't supplied the man with guns, eventually Scythe would have sought out firepower from somewhere and eventually gotten it. From what Nero discovered, the man had been continuously battling the other gangs for funds, and rumour had it that he'd even lead a few raiding parties or two near Thanalan's borders.
Of course, he paid his dues to the Brass Blades whenever they came around like a good little Ul'dahn gangster, and it wasn't up until now that Scythe's position in Pearl Lane was threatened, although the word "threatened" was a rather laughable hyperbole to Nero, given that the most resistance the gangster would encounter is a couple of Sultansworn at best. The Syndicate wouldn't care unless their income was affected, and as long as Scythe remained below the gil line, the Highlander wouldn't need to be worried about much.
His finger tapping continued. Let things continue as they are? Worst comes to worse, Scythe and all of his cronies get jailed or killed--and really, in Ul'dah what's the difference--and nothing happens. Perhaps a tear should be shed for whoever was stupid enough to be caught in the crossfire, but it was doubtful. If Scythe's personality hadn't changed since a few decades ago, then the worst as far as civilian casualties would go would be the nobles' servants, whichever was idiotic enough to resist the angry mob of gangsters wielding swords and guns.
Another sigh, and he closed the linkpearl case with a decisive click.
Let things play out.
After all, it didn't involve him anymore.
