"Tell me when she will awake." Female voice was sounding from the communicator on the guard post in Corsica Outer Sanctum. Usually well guarded place, after arrival an armored transport with prisoners was turned into a fortress. Extreme security measures on all levels, hard punishment for every member of the security presonnel who will fail even at one small thing. Not too many people knew about existance of this system and barely anyone who was not welcomed would get close to this station, but the Outcasts seemed to be paranoid.
"She is about to wake up, senora." Guard have answered looking at the cameras display monitor, the one located in expensively furnished room, focusing on woman laying on king size handmade bed right in the center. Room was equiped that exclusevelly right before the transport have arrived. Best furniture that was stolen or bought from all over the Sirius, some things were relocated right from the Calliope itself. Including the things like Charlotte's сlothing and personal items. Holographic representation of the Outcast cross on ceiling right above the bed was aiming to remind the guest who is hosting her.
Female voice was silent for a few seconds, background noices hace clearly indicated that she was drinking something. "Mhm, good, good. I will move on now, call me when she will wake up completely. I'm not interested in any sort of incidents, hell knows what she has in mind." Slight noices of drinking have filled the air again. "By the way, those Gallic maids that we have prepared are better to be ready. Call them too." Communication broke off and the guard Jose Fernandino have pushed a special button deployed on his post. It was written 'maids' above it and was suppose to make a sound signal in maid rooms. Same button was placed in Charlotte's room, close to the table. Jose did perform his duties well, but he never appreciated additional work without additional payment.
Two maids that they were talking about were also taken from the Calliope, it was considered as the best to allow people that princess knows and trust to serve her. Of crouse the number of them was reduced, but according to the liner crew, Lisette Pernet and Laurine Millet were the most beloved by the princess herself. They got completely new unform and now were led by the guard to Charlotte's apartments. The princess have finally woked up. as maids were already waiting next to apartments doors. Loyola is getting a second call on her communicator, she's listening to some short message and replying with somehow concerned tone. "I'm on my way." Enma was getting more nervous with every single footstep that was closing her to the doors. But she didn't want to show any weakness and is trying to get control over herself.
The princess' sleep was hardly sleep at all. It was the sort of restless, fitful endeavour that left you more tired than when you began, plagued by nightmares and trauma. Charlotte came to in a cold sweat, bolting upwards in her bed with a desperate, fearful gasp. Her heart was pounding in her breast, like a tamed animal gone wild with terror. Her head felt like it was falling off her, the inherent wrongness of the situation she found herself in only adding more confusion to the whirl of emotions. Wide brown eyes stared wildly around the room, but none of it made sense. What had happened to Valetta? Where were the grey metal walls, the empty, echoing corridors, the smell of sweat and fear and death? She must still be dreaming, she decided. The room she was in was opulent and beautiful, the bed underneath her soft and warm. It was all in stark, disorienting contrast to the horrors still etched into her memory.
Thankfully, there was some evidence to prove that she wasn't going mad. Her hand went to pull up her shirt, hauling the fine cloth up to reveal her earlier wound. The pale skin at her right waist was marred by an angry red weal, though she could see that it had finally received some treatment. It wasn't bandaged, of course - apparently even the Maltese barbarians knew better than to bandage broken ribs - but a few telltale puncture marks dotted the outskirts, as well as some unfamiliar markings she couldn't place. For the briefest second, Charlotte wondered just how far advanced Maltese medical technology was. The agony from earlier had faded into only a slight twinge of discomfort, and even that only came when she poked it. An exploratory touch at her face confirmed that the black eye was still there, however, and just as uncomfortable as ever. Someone might have applied ice in the meantime, but it was hard to tell. The most welcome discovery was that the collar round her neck was well and truly gone.
Each passing second brought more memories back. Unfortunately, there was a huge black void between the shuttle bay and here, so the most pressing question of where they'd taken her was still up in the air. If her surroundings were anything to go by, however, it definitely belonged to someone rich. Someone powerful, too, but wealth implied that anyway. Some of the furniture was even hers, she noticed, although the clothes definitely weren't. A nice, deep purple shirt and a long black skirt - the sort of thing she might have worn on occasions where she was more of a status symbol than a figure of strength. They had brushed and washed her hair, too - what had previously been a scraggly, dishevelled mass had been neatly transformed back into the jet-black, shoulder-length style she was used to. Despite the change in treatment from before, the implication left a sour taste in her mouth. Whoever had had her brought here had left her looking like some sort of trophy, and even from here she could see that the door opposite bore a serious-looking lock in it. Retinal, fingerprint, a fourteen digit plus code - the works. Primitive by Gallic standards, but even a padlock would have kept her trapped in here.
Gingerly, she made to stand up, bare feet sinking into the fur carpet as she tested her own ability. Her side twinged again, but more gently than before. She could stand, at least. The rest might have only been part of a larger trap, but the medical treatment she could still be grateful for. She took one wobbly step after another towards the centre of the room, the fog of her unwilling sleep slow to wear off. She leant forwards against the wooden table there, the bowl of fruit resting on it drawing her magnetically towards it. She hadn't realised just how hungry she was until she saw it, but now she felt ravenous. One hand reached out and grabbed a shiny, red apple from the heap, and soon she was devouring it as if she'd been starved for weeks.
Charlotte was so busy enjoying her breakfast, in fact, that she didn't even see the door opening.
Blonde hispanic woman and two well known servants have walked into the room. Charlotte could've noticed an armed men in gray uniform behind the door. According to insignia it was either lieutenant or captain, person had a brown hair and it was something wrong with his ear. Maybe some kind of trauma or lighting angle that caused this distortion. It was not a lot of time to look better, moment from where it was noticeable and until the door was closed was way too short.
Blonde woman came closer and slightly bowing, gently kissed Charlotte's hand. Her dry lips have shortly touched princess' soft skin as Enma let it away and spoke. "Good evening, your highness." Enma was nervous, but it only reflected with the weak smiled on her face. She was dressed in accordance with the most recent Outcast fashion. Rather strict black jacket is contrasting with bright purple tie-ish cloth on her neck above pale white blouse. The White Cross of Malta, highest Maltese decoration is daily pinned to the left side of her jacket. She is not wearing it normally, but this time she have found the situation suitable. Her hair was a bit messed up, it looked like she was pilotig a fighter and helmet have broke her hairstyle. She was trying to fix afterwards, but some details were still not perfect. Her black pants did not look official and had some strange artament along the length of the side seam. Several dust particles have spoiled the look of her deep black shoes on 6cm heels. Despite trying to look perfect, Loyola was not made for it after all. The origin of poor military dynasty was speaking for itself in such moments. For the same reason she never felt like making a huge capital, despite having perfect opportunities for it.
Loyola nodded back to maids, second after one of them went to change the bedspreads. The other one was staying on the same place, seemly waiting for something and slightly looking around. Enma have noticed that she stopped breathing after kissing Charlotta's hand. She's trying to resume it, but in a way that would not be too notiable. She knew that it will go easier anytime soon, but for now every second was feeling like an hour of stress. Loyola is perfectly aware that she's controlling the situation completely, it was something irrational and strange. She felt heself like a years ago, when this state was rather normal and daily. Why now? Why at exatly this important moment she needs to be like this? This was the worst betayal of all.
Enma is taking a deep breath with her nose and looking at Charotta's face. "My name is Enma from the Loyola family. I'm representing the Nacion and will keep the negotiations with you and your family. " It was this formality to tell from which family are you. It was annoying Enma, since in her case she was the last member of this family and it was just another reminder that her dynasty is ending. Long time ago medics told her that she won't be able to have a child and she had a huge doubts about adopting someone. That was not really matter, this particular thought made her stiffly calm voice to sound a bit sad.
Now Loyola is just taking another deep breath and closing her eyes for a moment longer than blinking. She couldn't hold herself from pursing her lips, which again, did not make her look any confident. She somehow despaired at resuming control over herself and at this exact moment she finally relaxed. Stress was still quite noticeable by her moves and by facial expressions, but she started to calm down.
Charlotte froze in place as the trio walked into view, the apple falling to the floor as she recognised two of them. Lisette and Laurine, two of her handmaidens, here? She hardly dared believe it. There was a blonde-haired woman there, too, but not the one from before - this one was taller, clearly Sirian by birth. And, she noticed, the slightest bit... nervous? It was almost surreal - the woman even favoured her with a short bow before kissing her hand. She had no idea what to think, reflexively snatching her hand back as soon as the gesture was complete. The other woman's dress was formal, but she didn't wear it naturally. Overall, the impression was rather weak, and for the first time since she'd been dragged off the Calliope Charlotte felt more confused than scared.
"Lisette- what are you-" she spluttered, turning to watch the younger woman head towards her bed. The girl had been one of her personal retainers aboard the liner, and chatting with her had been one of the few highlights of her Lorraine tour. "How-"
The other woman shook her head quickly, gesturing back towards the Maltese noble - or, at least, towards the other woman serving as one. A cheap imitation of the real Gallic thing, but perhaps the closest personification there was of the poison world's cold-hearted society. The expression on Lisette's face was clear - not now. Laurine wore much the same look, her hands twisting together as she stood quietly beside the blonde-haired woman. Charlotte's blood boiled. Considering what she herself had gone through, who knew what these monsters might have done to her companions? The anger was welling up inside her already, but she put a leash on it for now.
Enma - that was the woman's name, evidently, since she hadn't stopped talking since she'd walked in. A representative of some sort. Charlotte wasn't sure what to believe, but the other woman's nervousness wasn't exactly inspiring. Her clothes bespoke some power, at least, and the way Charlotte's two servants hung on her every word was another clue, but there was a lingering suspicion niggling in her brain already. Something was not quite right here, and this Enma of House Loyola was at the centre of it. She might have claimed to represent the 'Nacion' - the Maltese Nation, Charlotte surmised - but what she said didn't quite match how she looked and acted.
"What do you want?" she said simply, switching to English. Her tone was flat and her expression guarded, though each word was laden with suspicion. There was confusion written all over her face too, of course - Charlotte didn't mind letting that show - but the fury she kept under wraps. It still manifested itself in the little things, though - her breathing was slightly heavier, her shoulders were tense, and her hands kept threatening to ball into fists. "Am I- are we on Malta? Who are you, exactly? What- what do you mean, 'negotiations'?" One question paved the way for another. Thousands more were clamouring to be let through, like water held behind a leaky dam, but those were the four most important. The rest could wait a while. What did they want from her, where was she, who exactly was the person in front of her beyond that meaningless name, and did these barbarians really expect the Gallic crown to treat them as equals?
Loyola have noticed expected confusion of Charlotte. She actually enjoyed every second of princess' shock, it seemed to be working as Enma expected, but it was too early to actually claim any sort of success. It's probably not an easy task to find a key to the heart of a member of Gallic Royal family. However, she really needed to establish this contact. It was not only her duty, she had a personal curiosity and the whole situation was unique.
Charlotte's questions did not cause any troubles, nothing over her expectation. In fact, Enma was waiting for the worse, some kind of hysteria or open aggression. Mainly her bad expectations caused her general anxiety and uncertainty. She have tried to make a plan for this meeting in her head, maids and this room. However it's already going differently from what she imagined, literally from the first seconds. She do have a plan for some extremely bad scenarios, but she don't have a detailed plan how to act normally. Improvisation is something that Loyola can do, but taking the risks that are higher than minimal is not her style.
She's making a short and careful look on Charlotte, before started to speak. Her voice is becoming deeper comparing with her first phrase. She kept the highness of her voice withtin third of octave to not sound too emotional. Loyola started on the perfect for this situation speed, not speaking too fast or two slow. If there was thing that she controlled perfectly over herself, then it was her voice. "Don't worry your highness, I will answer all your questions. " She made a long pause, but her intonation was indicating that she isn't done yet.
Outcast looked on the floor for a moment and then spoke again. Voice was sounding more warm and soft, however mainly kept official. "Before we get to the business, I want to appologize for the incident that happened earlier. Person that violated your honor is my servant, so it's my responsibility." Loyola stopped for another moment, picking up the words and struggling with herself. "She will be punished." Enma sounded very strictly on this one.
By the time they were speaking, Gallic scoutes have already passed the minefield in Omicron-80 system. According to recent CID reports, Lynx wing was detected not so far from the Genoa Base. Gallic forces have avoided the fight and moved back, the Crown was collecting needed intelligence information. Loyola will read those reports after a meeting and this will be not a pleasing surprise. She had a feeling that something will go wrong, but she have failed at predicting on what exactly.
"Apologise?" parroted the princess, a certain edge to her tone that hadn't been there before. No matter how she looked at it, Charlotte could hardly make sense of the situation she found herself in. "Incident?" The anger was welling up again, stronger than before but tempered with fear. Enma's voice had softened towards the end, but the authority behind it had not gone anywhere. Was this just another, longer-term trap? The room, the reappearance of old faces, this new individual sent to represent 'the Nacion' - the shift was too much. All these people had done before now was to torment her mentally and physically, back when she had been a nobody - now, they seemed content to put her in a gilded cage, like an exotic bird kept for display. They might be calling her 'your highness' now, but nothing had really changed. The first impressions had already been made, and to Charlotte the attempt at covering up the barbarism and depravity under the surface had entirely the wrong impression.
The realisation didn't help her feel any better, though. She forced herself to smile as graciously as she could, though the gesture never reached her eyes. The corners of her mouth curved up, but her gaze was still shot through with the horrors of before. Charlotte had no idea what the Maltese thought of her, but they had already outmanoeuvred her once. Her attempt at joviality wouldn't even have fooled a toddler, but it was the effort that counted. They wanted her to play their game, wanted something from her before they broached the next stage of her captivity. Where would she be in a week's time - Bretonia, perhaps? The possibilities were both endless and almost equally unappealing.
"I don't- you don't have to do anything like that," she said. It took every ounce of willpower she had to force some semblance of cordiality into her voice, but she managed it somehow. If she had been honest, the fact that this was what passed for an apology seemed almost like a sick joke. Nothing could ever undo the harm they had already done, nor could they ever take away the knowledge she now had of what they truly represented. She wondered if they had actually expected her to accept. The sentence hung awkwardly in the air, a half-finished olive branch that she hadn't even wanted to hold out. What more could she even say? It didn't matter what she thought, didn't matter what she might ask for - they were still keeping her here, and that was that. The best thing she could do now was go along with the script and make things easy on herself. It wasn't much of a plan, but in light of her previous attempt at getting smart with these people, it looked to be the only feasible one she had.
Loyola is rising her hand, asking Charlotte to stop. People are doing this when they want to press their point regardless. She have noticed Charlotte's emotions and Enma quite fairly realized why princess is not amused. There was more things explain, more positive intentions shown. "Your highness. " Enma started almost traditionally now. She got used to speak with the people from families with the higher status. "This person who did this to you is not even Maltese, she's from Gallia. On Malta we do have a system that is protecting the honor of noble families. In your case it's a royal family, even if our nations are currently at the state of war, it doesn't mean that royal blood shall not be protected." She ended up with bored and almost daily tone. "I will personally make sure that Justice will prevail here and if your highness is willing to take a part in a choice of the punishment, it will make my conscience purer."
Enma sighed and hoped for understanding. At one point she felt herself like a schoolgirl who got the bad mark and now have to explain why. Now she have to explain how she will fix it. Situation is even more redicilous with the fact that she did not do anything bad by herself and it was just her excentric servant. Here, Enma is quite frank when it comes to Marie's punishment. This silly Gaul was suppose to help, not creating even more problems. Loyola had enough of problems and not enough useful people that she could trust. Now she got even less, unless until this whole situation with Marie will rule out.
Enma fell in her thoughts for some moment and started to speak rather suddenly. "Also dinner will be ready soon. cook from your liner was consulting our local chefs. Sadly it appears that we can't get all needed ingredients, so at the moment we cannot provide Gallic cuisine in all its diversity ". She said with faked apologizing tone, she never actually cared about the food a lot. Comparing to the absolute majority of the Maltese nobility, Loyola had an almost ascetic lifestyle.
Justice?, she wanted to say. You can start by razing your own world to the ground, and finish with yourself. Enma's words were testing her patience, although Charlotte couldn't tell if the provocation was deliberate or simply bad diplomacy. Was that how these people meted out justice? The other woman on Valetta had been a hateful creature, but Enma had confirmed something the princess had suspected all along - her callous, deadened attitude had been brought on by the Maltese people themselves. It was a stretch to call it pity, but something had washed in to dilute the white-hot hatred she'd previously felt towards that pathetic creature. The idea of a punishment setting anything right for her was entirely the wrong line of thinking.
"I choose nothing," she said carefully, her tone strengthening for the first time. Her voice was still laden with suspicion - there were still far too many questions unanswered, where she was and by whose authority being the main two - but if this Loyola wanted to play games with her, then she'd better go along. "There's no punishment you can give that can set things right." Those were the truest words she'd said all day, and they came out rather more bitter than she'd intended. "Instead, could you please answer my questions? Where am I-" she gestured around her to indicate the room as a whole "-and who owns this place? Is it you, or are you just the spokeswoman for some lord?" She thought about stopping there, but something in the other woman's demeanour spurred her just one step further. "And after that, I would like you to leave me and my- these two friends of mine alone. I would prefer to eat with them alone, if it's all the same." I've seen enough of you Maltese bastards for a lifetime, and if I have to eat dinner listening to you I'd rather go hungry. In the end, it still wouldn't matter what she wanted - if Enma told her to jump, Charlotte would have asked how high - but the leash had slackened for a moment, and she was only too happy to let her caution lapse a little with a few choice words. It was good for the soul, and a calculated risk - the 'good cop' act Enma was putting on would stretch further than a few barbed words, Charlotte was sure of that.
Loyola could not hide her wonder from Carlotte's words. She wants to make a one step back at the moment, but holding herself from it. She's really respecting princess' status, but now Carlotte is crossing the red line. And now she also have to explain specific of Maltese politics? And then explaining whole specific of her position in this very specific system? That probably was the worst idea to do, especially at this particular situation. Talks about Maltese politics are making normal people sick, and how this princess will react? It's hard to even imagine. She needed to do something resounding, but she had no idea what. Suddenly. "I own this place and rule planet Malta." Enma just made a claim that would normally cause at least scandal or probably some internal Maltese armed conflict. But she just did it, she felt like it. Loyola suddenly felt herself in right to say so, to handle the situation at least. Denying this claim after it, especially on princess' eyes would be also unacceptable. In other words, Loyola just did something that will have a great consequences, but for now, she still had princess of the House DeFrance staying in a front of her.
Some cruel smile is appearing on her face, however, her eyes are not expressing anything that would indicate anger or propensity for violence. On the courage of her own claims, her voice is sounding way more paternalistic, but remainig softness. "I understand your desire to stay alone with your people. I'm also not seeking for your friendship, but we need to have a conversation. After it you will have your time in company of this two wonderful... senoritas. I personally cared about creating a friendly environment." Loyola sighed thinking about how to continue. "We are not on planet Malta, it's a top secret object in a top secret system. You don't think that we normally having an apartments like this to host some royal person, aren't you? Or maybe this two servants who you know and trust exclusivelly are here just because that happened?" Enma looked in her eyes very carefully, she have switched to a whisper. "I perfectly understand that it's not a pleasing trip for you, but I'm trying to make it easier. I can't give you all honors that you have used to. Please, try to make an overestimation and make it easier for us both." She pulled a communicator out of the pocket, her voice is diving out from whisper. "Also don't afraid to speak what you really think, no one will dare to harm you anymore. And I need straight conversation after all."
Enma's reply was like a punch in the gut. Oh, shit. Initially, Charlotte had taken the other woman to be some sort of official; the kind of person acting on someone else's authority, but not the actual driving force behind her imprisonment. Judging from the other woman's dangerously quiet tone, and the smirk that never quite reached her piercing gaze, Charlotte had miscalculated. It had still been worth it to poke the hornet's nest - now she knew where she stood and who exactly hse was dealing with, for a start - but she had come closer to upsetting everything than she could have liked. The olive branch would have to come out again, and quickly.
"I understand," she replied, shifting into that metaphorical reverse gear all nobles seemed to possess by birth. "I didn't mean to cause any offense." Even for someone like her, for whom lying had quickly become an integral part of her skillset back in Gallia, it was difficult to say one thing and mean exactly the opposite. Her hand was forced by this point, however. "I'm very grateful for your- for all this hospitality - and I appreciate that you're trying to make- ah, all of this- easier on me." Her gaze couldn't quite hold Enma's - the other woman's stare seemed to bore right through her. Was she really thanking the other woman for holding her hostage? No - not quite, but close enough that it made her skin crawl. As long as it kept the whips, chains, and whatever else the Maltese put their rank and file captives through, though, Charlotte would have been happy to do it. It still felt like a betrayal to hold any sort of conversation with this woman, both of her people and of herself. She eyed the produced communicator with some wariness, not quite arriving at any particular conclusion. Was she going to be recorded? What exactly was she in for here? "If you have any questions for me, I'll be happy to answer them as best I can." Her tone was smoother now, her composure returning in some noticeable degree at last. Better to get on with it than drag it out - the longer the other woman stayed, the more time Charlotte would have to spend talking to her. Enma could come and 'visit' any time she wanted, so the only way to encourage her to leave was to make her happy. If that meant having dinner with the face behind all the trauma she'd been put through, behind all the countless Royalist lives taken by the Maltese menace, then as much as she hated it her course had already been set. Besides, the apple hadn't really been enough, and the mere mention of dinner had reminded her just how hungry she was.
"Although- how long was I out for? What time is it?" she asked, realising that she really had no idea. Was it hours or days? Her eyes were already searching Enma's face before she even began to reply, studying the other woman's face for any signs of lying.