As the shuttle departed from Monte Carlo, and escorted by Unione Corse fighters, this was the most secretive movement to date. No flight paths, no list of passengers, no nothing. The Union was not, and will not, be aware of it. The shuttle entered Marseille's atmosphere, through the docking ring, spoofed as a usual cargo.
It soon arrived into the atmosphere - the blue sky, and the oceans, bequeathed by the star of Provence, gave the clouds a gold tint, it was indeed dawn, in that part of Marseille.
"Sublime", Alfredo comments, carefully admiring each vessel, boat, platform, or even reflections of lights coming from underwater, the tiny islands, and their usual appartment complexes, and their resort stations, built on the shore. Fishing boats, sailing boats, Marseille was as peaceful and beautiful as ever,Pax Corsica, he thought.
We soon arrived at the Villa Orsini, with armed ships on the horizon guarding the island, a large perimeter interdicting flight and sail was enacted around the island for classified reasons, courtesy of the Police. The shuttle gracefully landed on the landing pad on the Villa, and the door opened, Alfredo jumped and lend his hand to Miss de Marco.
"Madame, je vous en prie", he said. It was his duty, as the gentleman he claims to be, to help her get off this armored shuttle without trouble.
After a silent walk, the guards enacted the orders given to them, and deactivated all defenses inside the Villa, and soon went back to the shuttle.
The door opened itself, leaving a beautiful, Mediterranean room, with a large table, and seats, awaiting only their future occupants.
Fiorella Arianna de Marco sat in the armoured shuttle opposite her counterpart, Principal Alfredo Orsini, and nothing about her exterior gave away where she was really from. Her black pantsuit with gold accessories bore no insignia and her gold jewelry also had no Maltese symbols - to everyone else, she looked like a very wealthy businesswoman.
Her left leg was folded over her right, and she gave a calm and composed impression, perhaps too calm, almost inhuman, unnatural. She had the impression of a spider waiting motionless for hours in its web for its prey.
Her stillness was periodically interrupted by her companion, who now and then commented on what they had just seen out of the window as they approached their destination. With her steely blue eyes, she studied carefully every scenery that presented itself and every detail.
"Grazie, Signor Orsini."
She said as she took advantage of the proffered helping hand as she exited the shuttle and smiled politely at her companion. Once outside, she adjusted her suit and her hair and looked around the area where they had landed before continuing to follow her diplomatic counterpart.
In the hall, she politely waited where she would be seated, taking advantage of her companion's possible assistance to take a seat at the table and set her suitcase on the desk.
"I do belive that I am the first Maltese you have met in person and we are not trying to kill each other. Have I lived up to your expectations and do I seem 'mutated' enough?"
She added in her calm, deeper voice, enunciating each syllable methodically. A fleeting smile appeared on her face, indicating that the question was meant in a lighthearted context.
"You seem perfectly fine to me; you see, I do not really mind such things. What I see are business opportunities, and potential business partners."Orsini said bluntly while remaining fixated on his goal of brokering at the very least, a partial truce for an indefinite amount of time.
"Well, let's get down to business shall we? We won't remain here for months, will we?"He said after a small pause following his previous sentence. A chuckle escaped his lips as he leisurely unlocked a nearby briefcase.
Orsini knew this was not an amateur, but a real, Outcast. Probably the first Outcast to land on Marseille. Maybe this unexpected conversation will yield a special kind of partnership between both groups, whom, before this conversation, shot at each other with no hesitation. Indeed, unlike his predecessors, Orsini valued diplomacy and dialogue over cannons roaring at one another.
"This is our product, Nox. You can say it, alongside Marseille and the Unione Corse, the polar opposites of Malta and the Outcasts - whereas your Cardamine grows on land, our Nox comes from the numerous Seas of Marseille. Whereas your product yields strength, our provide comfort... Whereas yours is physically addictive, ours is not. Please, have some for your return, alongside other delicacies we have on this beautiful planet. If you have no use for it, perhaps you can sell it."
After saying these words, he closed the briefcase but did not lock it, and placed it at its right, on the middle of the table, extending an implicit invitation to examine its contents. He then crossed his arms in anticipation for De Marco's reply. He had been upfront, speaking his mind and sharing his true intentions during this exchange.
She listened with unwavering focus to his words, her movements precise and deliberate as she skillfully unlocked her intricately designed briefcase. The process appeared almost effortless, as if she possessed an otherworldly composure.
"While I may indulge in various pleasures, the allure of highly addictive substances does not entice me. However, I acknowledge that your product carries a certain spiritual tranquility. Selling it, on the other hand, is not within my purview. I am no mere dealer, and the act of reselling the gifts bestowed upon me is a breach of social decorum."
With those words, she extracted a tablet of sleek black and gold from the confines of the Kishiro case, accompanied by an equally refined stylus. Placing both devices meticulously before her, she elegantly awakened the tablet with a flick of her finger, illuminating its dark yellow screen.
"As you are well aware, Signor Orsini, I represent the interests of Malta in our endeavor to expand commercially into Gallia. This untapped market presents an opportunity for us, despite the prevailing xenophobia. There are potential customers of considerable wealth who may be enticed by the advantages our Product can offer."
"Our proposed collaboration involves the assignment of our agents and freighters to your designated space station. They will deliver the Product, which your personnel will then oversee, ensuring its distribution to end customers in Gallia, particularly on the planet New Paris. Naturally, this agreement would encompass the cessation of hostilities between our factions."
She paused momentarily, diverting her gaze from the Principal to consult the notes on her tablet. After a few seconds of focused reading, she shifted her attention back to the conversation, her eyes meeting his once more.
"I am well aware of your position within Gallia and I fully comprehend the political sensitivities surrounding our warships near your border with Lorraine. Regrettably, clashes between your navy and our forces appear inevitable. Your authorities have instigated this war against us and we remain vigilant in safeguarding the borders of our cherished homeland."
"These are the fundamental elements of our potential collaboration. Do you have any inquiries or additional points to contribute, Signor Orsini?"
Despite her polite and diplomatic smile, which adorned her face like a well-rehearsed mask, and her melodious voice, delicately enunciating each consonant with precision, she concealed her true thoughts and impressions. Her eyes, emphasized by a perfectly applied eyeliner, projected kindness and reassurance, yet remained an impenetrable barrier to her companion, offering no glimpse into the depths of her inner self.
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