– “I wonder if some of the people I’ve befriended lately would still allow themselves to be called friends if they knew the half of what is necessary to keep Sovereign running?
Many assume that we live in an era of peace, that there is no underside to Spira. But with the fall of Sin, we lost our common enemy. We as a species will always seek to place blame for our misfortunes on others, and without a single target, conflicts found their perceived sources in innumerable petty disagreements.
Spira, Ivalice, Gaia; no place I have ever set foot in is immune to the pull of profit, and there will always be men who fight the wealthiest corner, regardless of the cause they support in doing so. My weapons do not kill people; those holding them do. This is our mantra, and the only way we can continue to see our art as just that, and not as a crime in itself. We built an empire on others’ bloodlust, and a true counterbalance is one of equal weight.
I think of myself as lawful neutral and as such, I attach conditions to the use of my products that are intended to limit the negative effects they can have. Targets are ruled out, areas are declared safe zones. If those conditions are not met, the product will be repossessed; however, I cannot – will not – sell a used weapon at full price, so I will take the leftover debt in blood.
My only fear is that one day, I might come home having forgotten to clean the blood from under my nails, or a debtor file will fall out of my pocket, and some precious new acquaintance will ask questions that refuse to be left unanswered. What would I tell them? How would I justify it? And would I insult someone I love by pretending there can be a justification, that I am not just as self serving as the people on the other side of the counter?”
I heard what you said. I’m not the silly romantic you think. I don’t want the heavens or the shooting stars. I don’t want gemstones or gold. I have those things already. I want a steady hand, a kind soul. I want to fall asleep, and wake, knowing my heart is safe.
“She would be my… grandma… maybe… Psh. As if Auron was born anyway, can you imagine him younger than, like, thirty? He wasn’t born. He just kind of happened.
"You’re all very attractive young ladies, by the way.”
“Well, all work and no play makes Squall a dull ass son of a grat. How about you gimme a tour of the training centre? And by that, I mean why don’t you let me watch you cut some stuff up with that gunblade?”
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