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Royal Absolution
A Gallic Royal Enclave Short Story

Lausanne Complex, Zurich system
0:32 am, 25 December, 742 A.G.S. (826 A.S.)

"Authorization Argent-22."

"Clearance for cell 24, detention sector 6-D confirmed. Proceed," the robotic voice echoed through the speaker as the door slid open with a quiet steamy hiss. The narrow passage had no sights except for rows of similar doors with numbers on each side. Footsteps echoed through the corridor, but the visitor knew that they couldn't be heard in any of the cells. The noise protection was perfect. Eventually, the visitor found the right door and approached the retinal scanner.

"Identity confirmed, access granted," the robotic voice replied, and the lock disengaged with a clank, making it possible to open the door from the outside. The visitor already knew what would be inside: a small cell, with just enough room for a simple bed, a toilet bowl, and some space to stretch the legs.

The only unknown part in the equation was the inhabitant. They all reacted differently to such visits, so the standard procedure was to cuff their arms and their legs before the meeting. The visitor opened the door and stepped in, standing by the entrance and looking at the inmate silently.

She sat cuffed to the chair in the center of the room, looking at the visitor with a slight disgust. Not a scientist at least She thought. The only reasonable outcomes were either the visitor was there to put a bullet in her head, or to make a deal. She couldn't do anything about the former but the latter... was an interesting theory to say the least.

"If you won't stop looking at me like that, you'll get a colorful description of your vivisection" Stated. She didn't cared either way, it felt like years passed since her capture, not to mention the experiments they used her for began to take their toll on her.

The visitor stepped forward. Now lit by the room's only lamp, the inmate could see her. An officer, and a high-ranking one, judging by the insignia. Shoulder-length red hair and an emotionless expression added to that picture. "No need, the reports were thorough enough," she stepped to the side, closing the door behind her and sitting on the only spare place there was — the bed. The inmate would have to turn her head to the side slightly to see her visitor now. "It's... unfortunate."

"Indeed? Say it you dry parisian noblewhore, what do they tell?" She didn't bothered turning around her head, she already memorized the face "Do tell how the war going on too, while you're at it. Room service is too lazy to fix my Neural"

The corner of the woman's lip twitched slightly, but that was all the emotion that the response evoked. "The war never ends. Traitors are always in abundance. But you of all people should know that."

"Yep. Go ahead, put that bullet in my head, and get 10 more in my place" She closed her eyes "Maybe not that ballsy, but more"

"Oui, that is correct," the officer paused. "But for all intents and purposes, you're dead already. So it would be a waste of a perfectly good bullet, don't you think?"

"Okay, when we'll be in the opposite roles, i'll remember that, before stabbing you in the throat" She laid back, breathing in a few times "Enough niceities, what do you want?"

"For you," the officer stood up. "... to do what you're good at." She thought for a bit, then a strange smirk crossed her lips. "Things in Gallia have changed. The traitors to the Crown are many, and you might find that we have some common enemies now. The deal is simple: we let you go, and you become a pain in their rears instead of ours. We count that you'll stick to the terms of this deal."

"I don't trust you, and I was against your release, but apparently the King commands it." The officer looked at the inmate intently now.

"And his word is law" She replied, with a sarcastic tone, before switching to a more professional one "What must I do?"

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