The Golden Cage

[Omi]

"I'm not sure I consider mass slavery as proportionate payback," replied Charlotte, her tone laced with just a tinge of sarcasm. After all, her wounds were still fresh in more ways than one. "Gallia has found many ways to deal with her enemies without resorting to such... inhumane methods." To the rest, though, the princess listened intently, mentally cross-referencing everything she heard with what she already knew. Most of it seemed to line up well - the Maltese, or Outcasts, were a despised people even among other Sirians. And not without reason.

"Yes, I've heard what they say about Cardamine, too. Some sort of mental or physical enhancer, is it not? We have similar combat stims in Gallia, and none of them induce withdrawal symptoms." She sounded dismissive now, a faint sneer creasing her features. Did the woman think she was stupid? "If you intended on offering me a sample, I'm afraid I shall have to decline."

Finishing her first crab cake, Charlotte went after another dish. Her gaze settled on a plate of mussels, lightly drizzled with some garlic sauce, and she began shucking them out of their shells as she continued speaking.

"I don't know why the Guild is tolerated, but I don't speak for the Crown," she said simply. "It's not my area to question - my priorities are my military career and my system-duchy of Orleanais. Foreign and domestic policy is something for the Crown proper to manage. If you're asking for my opinion on it, we should have evicted them in favour of GMS a long time ago, but so far New Paris has not invited me for my views on any relevant councils. As for Kusari-" she paused briefly, chewing on a mussel briefly before continuing -"I know little of the place and have no desire to know more. I cannot give you much more than the basics where they and their people are concerned. I trust in the Crown and the King's policies regarding them, however."

The princess seemed to finish then, returning her full attention to her food. She still did not look entirely relaxed - no matter how nice the food was, how cordial her host was, and how seemingly welcoming her surroundings were in general, she knew she was still in the belly of the beast. They were building up to something, she was sure of it, although whether it would be hours, days, weeks or even months before the something materialised she had no idea. One thing was for certain, though - if they were keeping her alive, that meant they had some use for her. The axe was still hovering somewhere above her head, and no amount of diplomatic niceties could ever truly make her forget that.

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