“I'm certain that they will all be relieved to know that a male is back in control while the weakling bitch that held it before is in the dirt where she belongs!”
This comment from the now deceased Grande Steele Laviiz had swirled through Empress Amalna’hash’s mind since he had made it several days before. Now she stood in her bedroom, looking down at her palm as she fiddled with the bow on her tail.
It was first thing in the morning, and the empress had been awoken by the suns’ rays shining through her bedroom window. Though her people resided in a vast underground city, the upper floor residences had windows to the outside world; those who could not afford a home with a view would be rotated through the Residential Districts’ Window Suites, effectively homes away from home where they could get their fair share of the suns’ rays.
Should they not be lucky enough to have one of these suites, the time was well kept and alarm clocks were readily available.

The empress was deep in rather glum thought; her people were expecting an appearance this morning after the guards and masons had repaired the damage caused by the Grande’s attack on their mighty city. His army had been slaughtered and the Grande had died at her own hands. The sword she used to kill him was to be mounted in the entrance halls with the rest of their treasures.
However, his quip about her people finding relief in a male taking the throne..? That had struck a nerve; normally she’d have gutted him the moment he thrust his blade towards her, but instead she had been too deep in thought about his comment to use her true reflexes.
A knock came at her door.
“Milady? May I come in? I am to help you dress…”
It was her aide, Marlakun. She grumbled under her breath quietly, the subject of her needing an aide something that only worsened her thoughts.
She suffered from a rare genetic defect known as Unucharach; translated it meant ‘The Waste’, and that’s exactly what it did to her. If she didn’t regularly exercise the majority of her muscles, then they would slowly but surely atrophy. Other than the regular fitness, there was no known cure or antithesis; the last Swordslammer to be affected by The Waste was her great-great grandmother, and though she had died at the ripe old age of one hundred and twenty years, she had been nearly bedridden for the last ten.
“Milady?”
Silently she slid to the door and let him in, closing it with her head still processing her worrying thoughts and her eyes staring into space. She dawdled over to the bed and stood with her back to him, allowing him to discreetly remove her nightdress and slide her formal armour onto her, all without saying a word. He retied the bow on her tail, smoothing out the fabric gently before untying her hair and starting to brush the nights’ knots from it.

It might have been her silence, or possibly the way she was simply holding herself that translated to him.
“Milady, are you alright? You… don’t seem quite yourself this morning.”
She sighed quietly.
“Telling you my woes would betray your duties, I do not recall you having psychology degrees.”
“I may not be a psychologist, but I’m a good listener?”
This comment made her grumble; she didn’t really want to tell her manservant what was on her mind, wishing to mull it over herself, but she guessed there wasn’t any harm in telling him; her peoples were a social sort, miners who stay silent are dangerous to others, they could start blasts or swings of picks that might harm or kill others, so being vocal and sociable was a great boon to them.
“The other day, before Grande Steele attempted to kill me, he… said something that has plagued me.” She admitted over her shoulder to him.
“Hmm?”
“He… told me that my… our people would be pleased that a male was on the throne once more rather than I.”
Malakun chuckled a little.
“Milady, as I recall the heresay he also said you were the shape of a toothpick and called you a weakling.” He said idly. “However we both know that you’ve a fine figure, provided you exercise, and that you must obviously be rather strong, else your father would have killed you.”
“But that is another pair of problems right there!” She snapped in retort. “I murdered my father to inherit his position, and if I don’t regularly exercise I’ll become weaker and weaker until I’ll be bedridden! That is a very exploitable weakness for an Empress to have..!”
“Milady…”
“No! I… I don’t belong here, I’m not fit to rule our peoples- I’m barely able to keep myself from becoming dead weight on our great city!”
“Then who, milady?” Malakun probed. “Who do you think would be?”
She stayed quiet at this; admittedly she didn’t know anyone else who could rule her peoples without the power going to their heads; even her most trusted aide, Malakun, would have difficulty ruling the mountains, and he did a great deal of paperwork himself.
“I… I don’t deserve to be your Empress.” She admitted. “Should I die, who would mourn a weak creature such as me?”
“We all would, Empress.”
At this she snorted. “No, there would be parades and festivities that the weakling ruler has died.” She snapped. “No-one would mourn me.” Her head drooped slightly, as did her ears, at this last mumbled statement.
Malakun halted his movements for a moment, as if in thought, but returned to his brushing of her hair before quietly replying.
“I would.”
Her thoughts paused on this comment, her eyes going slightly wider when it truly clicked in her head what he said.
“One of an entire race.” She mumbled.
“One is still enough to mourn.” He said calmly. “Milady, we would never choose another to replace you until your time has come, and even then I am sure you will have sired an heir to the throne, be it an Emperor or Empress. I have been your aide since we were both children, and I know that any you have will be brought up to rule these mountains right.”
“You talk of children easily; your ideas on siring children seem lacking.”
“How so, Milady?”
“For me to have children, I must have a mate.” She hissed. “For me to have a mate, there need be suitors. In all my years as empress, I have not had one male express interest in me; my condition makes me a less than ideal mate.”

Malakun tied her hair back into its ponytail before turning her on the spot and brushing her facial fur straight with the palm of his hand.
“I think you’d make an excellent mother.” He said.
“M… Malakun..?”
“I believe that is something for us to talk about later, don’t you?” He asked rhetorically. “You have peoples to address.”
He led her to the balcony overlooking the Great Forge and the rest of her grand city, and she hesitated at the doors.
“But…”
“Milady,” Malakun began with a firm air to his tone, “you want to know if your people love you; yes?”
She nodded meekly.
“Then go out there and tell them of what has happened. If you want them to love you, you must show devotion to them.”
She sighed and nodded sadly before pushing open the doors. She took a breath, held herself as she usually did when addressing her people, and stepped onto the balcony.

The crowd had been noisy, talking amongst itself as it usually did when all congregated in the Great Forge halls, and shushed to silence when she appeared over the railing.
“The Curiq ruler, Grande Steele Laviiz, led an army to our gates.” She announced to the massed thousands. “As have all who led war to our gates, they have been massacred and their leader slain. He thought us weak and cowardly, living within the bosom of our mountains, and sought to end my bloodline. He thought me feeble and frail, and though by our standards I am, he died by my own hands!"
A loud cheer echoed from this announcement.
“Unlike my father, I will not lead us to war, but should one rear its ugly head against us, I will not back down; these mountains have held for over ten thousand years, and we shall never let them go!” She shouted, emboldened by the cheer. “We are the Suarnach, Children of the Mountain! We are called the Swordslammers by races innumerable, and all who cross us shall learn to fear the ringing of anvils and the rage of the mountains!”
At this, the crowd almost exploded with cheers. She waited for them to get their initial adrenaline out of their systems before waving a hand to silence them all.
“Our city holds strong another day;” She started, leading to finish her speech, “may your picks find wealth, and your shield hold true.”
Another loud cheer echoed from the hall as she walked back into her room, closing the balcony doors behind her. Malakun smiled at her.
“Has that not shown you how truly valued you are, milady?” He asked. “We are not your people; you are our Empress, and I’m sure your mother would be proud of you.”
He smiled slightly before leaning in and kissing her cheek tenderly, getting her to blush at him.
“I know I am.”