Tauli

Tauli saw Skip staring at her in terror, and she gave a lopsided and sheepish grin, shivering for a moment. There was a plopping sound and she reverted to her normal form. Wings and tail sucking in, gemstone scales sliding back under her skin as if they'd never been there.

Her eyes brightened, becoming a vibrant purple, and her feelers lowered a little, the strands of pink floating idly. She gave a nervous smile at him, trying not to look around at the chaos she'd caused by blowing out the top deck. Not looking at the broken wood, or fallen and injured.

He stood up slowly, and approached her like she was a wild animal, braced to run or fight. "So... Umm... What was that?"

"Dragonking?" Tauli said nervously, rubbing the back of her neck, "Uh... De humans kinda... Killed his girl. So he done declared dem all fucked. I kinda said I ain't protectin' de bastards in ma territory. Technically it's ma daddy's territory, 'n he goin' be mad 'n shit at ma, but... Dey killed 'is girl."

Skip nodded slowly, "So... You know how you like to run from the town guard? I think we should think about playing that game."

She sighed, and looked down, "Love ta. Can't. I gotta front the idiots 'n clear up all de noise 'n shit. Eugh. I have ta go put on a dress. Look like more 'an a street brat. Probably take a bath, too. Hey! We can take a quick swim. Ya 'n me 'n shit."

"You really want to go swimming with me." Skip said suspisciously.

Tauli grinned at him, and grabbed his wrist, turning to leave the ship. She should have known it wasn't going to be that easy. The owner was standing in the way, surrounded by a small gaggle of tiny and irrelevant people. He was looking... Pissed.

She rubbed one of her cheeks, making it shimmer like a rainbow, "Uh... Hi."

"You." He said with irritation.

Tauli sighed and half-smiled at Skip, "This be Cowan, old lord. Not so much lord, no more. Not since he fucked wit' me grandaddy. Still walkin' round thinking he be one, though."

"He... Owns half the city's underground." Skipper said nervously.

She shrugged, "He be livin' 'cos I be lettin' 'im, Skip. City be mine. Jus' like ya. So, stop ya frettin' 'n shit."

She turned back to the upset lord and smiled at him broadly. The axomander spread her hands, "Assumin' a coupla ya boys be speakin' dragon 'n shit? Ya know what I said. And who I said it to. So... Ya wanna keep on livin' 'n rippin' people off 'n shit? Don't fuck wit' ma."

"Some salamander may have got it into their head that they're going to be a king, that doesn't make them Irrlich-fucking-dan." The human sneered.

Her face instantly fell, "Da fuck ya jus' say?"

Skipper took a step behind her cautiously.

The beggar lord crossed his arms, "Dragons ain't so easy to unite, miss. You broke my boat. So you're going to -"

"I woulda paid for it, 'n shit." Tauli snarled, "But den... Den ya jus' hadta go and fuck with Irrlichdan's name, ya racist motherfucker! He. Was. My. King!"

She struggled to control the rage threatening to spill out of her. Clenching and unclenching her fists, as her chest started to heave. "Apologise, 'n shit... Or I'm gonna fuck ya up. Ya don't... Fuck with... The name! No dragon, no fucking way! But... If ya insult... The dragonking of fucking dragonkings... Ya doom ya fucked soul."

"Irrlichdan is dead." The man sneered, "Even this far from his chosen nest, everyone knows it. Wasn't it a human, who killed him? Didn't he die, just like everyone else?"

Tauli gave a bitter laugh, "Oh, ya stupid. I get it. S'pose I should try and be understandin' 'n shit, then. But I... Am havin' kinda a bad day. Kinda gettin' fuckin' sick of bein' disrespected in ma home. So... Show some."

The man scoffed, "Show respect for a woman who runs around doing nothing? A woman who plays pranks and eats rocks? What exactly is it, that means I should respect you?"

"I play, I do." She nodded tiredly, "'Cos... It's better, dat way. Ya world is jus'... Too small. Too weak. If I fucked around, den everyone end up... Hurt 'n shit. I don't like buryin' ma friends. Ma family. Seen too many go dat way. Me doin' nuttin'... Dats better den me doin' shit."

Cowan looked at her tiredly, "Perhaps it has come to the point in time when even play is too much. The world has grown beyond the need for the salamanders and their legacies. The Three Kingdoms have no need for the three who claim to rule them."

"Mmm... Ya insultin'. Fucker." Tauli nodded and yawned, she looked around the Briney at all the frightened customers, and then she smiled broadly, and glanced back to the man. "Mebe I should say it in human, den? I not be hurtin' against nobody dat lay a hand on human fuckers. Not dis lord, not any. But... Anybody here... Owe da bastard?"

The guards by the lord immediately became less relaxed, and the mood in the ship shifted from confusion and fear, as every customer suddenly started to comprehend the opportunity she was offering them.

She didn't need to give up the life she'd chosen for herself when she decided she wasn't going to rule like a dictator. Being a queen didn't mean fighting every battle for yourself. Often enough, it just meant knowing how greedy the world really was.

She shrugged, "Ya really shouldna insulted Irrlichdan. I forgivin' 'n shit... But I ain't forgivin' dat. Not more'n once. Ya did dis ta yaself."

She turned and grabbed Skip's wrist, and smiled at him. She didn't like the fear in his eyes. She really did just want to play around, but the arrogance of scoffing at the only draconid in history to ever unite the clans... The ignorance to treat his name with disrespect... It irked her beyond belief.

She'd given him the opportunity to apologise. What came next... That was on him.

She swept her new friend into her arms, grinned at him, and jumped. Leaving the crowd to their business with the underground leader.

---

A man that she had thought of as a lord, sat leaning against the wall, a curved needle in his own hand. She couldn't bring herself to watch as he stitched his chest back together. She didn't even want to try and comprehend how he had managed to survive his injuries. She was more than happy to leave it at magic.

"If you are to gain an ally within these walls, it must be soon." He said breathlessly, "Your best option, is quite simply to seduce one of your staff. Love is a dangerous tool. It can be double-edged, but it will ensure compliance, and I don't have time to teach you every nuance of politics."

Chanda shivered, and focused on the water in her cup. How could a human being suffer so much, and be completely unmoved? She knew that the crown prince had been raised by orcs, but he was still the same species as she was. He knew suffering and pain.

Yet, somehow, it didn't affect him.

Her father had often spoke of the crown prince in callous terms. He had said that among the Sons of Menes, the only one who was ever truly a threat was Lord Westcolm. A man who had fought a king salamander in mortal combat and almost survived... Until he was reduced to ash.

Yet, the Sai in her chambers was one that her father had underestimated. Even after being carved nearly in half by a tauran, and abandoned by his queen to die, he had somehow not only survived... But began to plot for the future, and know which way the winds were turning. Predicting that her father would use her, and take the crown for himself.

"If you survived, m'lord..." Chanda whispered fearfully, "Will your wife one day... Come to reclaim what is hers?"

"She's dead." He replied coldly.

The empress winced, "As you should be, sir. If there ever was one to -"

"I saw the light leave her eyes. I cradled her in my arms as she died." Sai replied angrily, "It is true that she attempted to escape. I found her at the entrance to... It was a spell of Elatham's. A way to reach a world that is not our own, a constructed world. But she died. My wife is dead... And so your father will die. Knowing the same fear that she did. That, I have sworn to any god that dares to listen."

Chanda pulled her legs up to her chest and took a deep and ragged breath. The crown prince was supposed to be a charming idiot. A man who had lost his edge in the luxuries of being royalty. The fool who went to market and joked with the sellers. Who sat with the commoners and shared his candy with them.

How could he have so quickly become, again, that monster of war from her own childhood?

The Thunderstep.

Chanda knew her histories, well. She had absorbed all of her lessons and could quote most of the documented tales of the wars fought by the Traitor Emperor. Even the secret histories were committed to memory.

Yet, she had not imagined that the Thunderstep could truly be the man who spent his days in laughter, and his nights inside his wife. The chaotic warrior who had once fought on equal terms with the brutal mage that had killed the last dragonking could not exist in the bed of luxury. That had been her naive thought, and she could not shake it.

This persisting innocence was going to get her killed, she had no doubt. In fact, Chanda was now certain it was now not a question of if circumstances would lead to her death, but when. She had not been prepared by her father to orchestrate an intrigue against him.

"The ally." The prince prompted her, "Have you given it some thought? Someone you believe would be easy to manipulate. It is a cruel thing to do, certainly, but necessary. Who is it that you would seduce? Preferably someone with free movement in the palace, who can come and go from your side without arousing suspiscion."

She swallowed, "One of my handmaidens, then, sir. Though... I have never given thought to a woman, before. My father finds it to be detestable."

"Excellent. He won't see it coming, then. He truly believes that you are a product of his training." Prince Sai stated dispassionately. "Is there a particular handmaiden that you have in mind?"

Chanda winced, "Must it be... Sex... M'lord? I am the empress. Cannot I simply order -"

"No." He interrupted her rudely, "Look, your highness... The thing that wins wars such as this, and make no mistake, you are now at war with your father, is information."

She shrugged, "We have an extensive library, and I have unrestricted access."

"Useful." He nodded, "And my wife made certain that it was well cared for, by Millie, because information is paramount. Especially the past. However, unlike my wife, you have no one by your side. None. Which means that you have no information on the day to day. If an army was to reach the capital, then you would not know of it until the time at which your father chooses. Which is... A guarantee of your death."

She sipped at her tea, "You would provide me with a network of spies... From a maid?"

"I've finished, for now." He said, standing up from sewing his chest, "A maid is a servant, and a servant has ears. The first person my wife attempted to seduce in my household, was a maid. You now know her as the goddess of death, Lady Arina. Whilst I don't expect such a stark rise in future, beginning with servants is... Normal."

Chanda felt her hand tremble, "Then my father has done so."

"Undoubtedly. I expect no less than half your handmaidens are his. If we manage to take one of those, then your life may become... It is difficult to guess. It may either be easier, or harder." Prince Sai stated and sat down across from her, buttoning up his shirt.

She winced, "Would it... Not be better... To find loyalty in the royal guard? Many trained beneath your daughter. If they were to -"

"No one may know that I live." He shook his head, "That is a path to madness. And it is a short one that ends in a sharp drop. However, even the most senior of generals has his planning room dusted at times. A maid may appear anywhere, at times. I know you're worried. Maybe even disgusted. But this is the easiest way forward for someone without the requisite skills. It is, however, not the only task. I will have some of my own."

"Such as?" She snapped, feeling like he was now treating her as her father would.

He touched his chest, the shirt already reddening, "There is an alchemist that I know. I hope she will aid me. She has created unique items for both my wife and myself, and was trustworthy about our bedroom habits. She's a mutt, a doggirl. Loyalty tends to come instinctively. I won't be telling her where I'm hiding, and only an idiot would believe it is within the walls of the palace."

Chanda swallowed, "What else?"

"If you're questioning my loyalty, I'm more than willing to lay it all out." He replied lightly, "My only reason for holding back anything, is that I've asked you to seduce a woman, and I doubt that you've seduced anyone at all. Castelle left his mark on you, did he not? You fear intimacy."

"I... Fear it." She agreed, looking down at the table.

He sighed sympathetically, "If we had the opportunity, it would be my choice to let you never indulge that fear. Choose to live alone. Yet, I cannot think of a safer loyalty than love. Purchasing your staff will not gain them from your father. It will simply give your father a better paid spy."

"I agree, m'lord." She whispered and sighed, "It must be done. You are correct. Even a political simpleton such as myself can see little recourse but to see the sense in it... But I... I... By my death, you gain litttle. I must trust you. I do trust you... I... Can you not select one on my behalf?"

Sai's blue eyes looked at her in concern, "I could. If you require it. However... It would still be best... If there was some genuine affection on your behalf. I'll give it some thought, as you will undoubtedly do. In the meantime, I will try and make arrangements so I don't finish dying before your father does."

"I... I trust Dia the most. She has served in my household since we were both children." Chanda stated, "She was a friend to me, when I was isolated from the world."

The lord looked at her with pity, "You think that you are now in the world, m'lady? You have never walked with your people. We will...Have to remedy that. In time. First things, first. I'm afraid that Dia would be your father's first choice. We should keep her close at hand, share with her... And know that when the time comes, she will be sacrificed to mislead Vanhern."

She felt a horrified turn of her stomach and nearly threw up. He was right. She just hadn't... She hadn't thought her father would... But, moreso, she hadn't thought that the famous Prince Sai would so coldly plot to kill someone that she cared about. The man was known for his warmness, his embrace of the common people.

"You're not just a warrior." The empress whispered, "You're a politician. Like my father. You're just as manipulative and exploitive as he is."

"I was raised by orcs. I like to look my enemy in the eye, before I end them." He replied coldly, "You can't do that from behind the palace walls."

Chanda shivered, "Gods... I will remember that. And the way you look at me, sir."

"You are part of the reason my wife is dead. I won't let you forget that, empress. You are not my enemy, currently, only because it is necessary for the both of us. If I were you, then I would plan to kill the only survivor of the royal family, as soon as it became safe to do so. I represent a threat to you, so long as I live. Even if I swore my fealty, which I never will." The lord shrugged, and stood up, "You are naive, empress. You will grow out of that. Or you will die a slow and agonising death, a slave to your father. But he is not the only threat to your life."

The lord left quietly, and Chanda burst into tears.

A gentle hand knocked against the frame of the paper door, "Your grace?"

It was Dia's voice.

Chanda instantly felt all kinds of conflict. She wanted the comfort of a friend, someone's shoulder to cry on. However, Sai had planted seeds of doubt. Had the maid been trying to listen in? Had she noticed that the empress was not alone in her room? Was the maid here in loyalty to her, or to her father?

Dia would believe she was protecting Chanda, by telling the lord that the empress was having a conversation with their enemy. Sai was still her enemy. She had been moronic to think he was anything but that. The empress was just a tool to him, someone to use so he could avenge the death of his wife.

Chanda had seen the monument to Khild. It was at the entrance to the city. Everyone saw it, sooner or later. A mountain of skulls, adorned equally with flowers and with weapons. The fallen orcish wife of the prince, killed during the coup that had cast down the Traitor Emperor.

Kaden had at least been human, but his legacy was to be seen as one who had betrayed his entire race. How would Chanda be remembered? A puppet? A murderous bitch intent on genocide? She knew that, despite everything, Empress Twenty Four would be remembered fondly. Her enemies might have regularly vanished... But she had brought education to the masses. She had revived festivals like the Halfdark, and rooted out experiments of Kaden.

Who would the twenty-fifth empress of the empire be? Scapegoat, fool, or something worthy to be remembered?

Chanda steeled herself, and spoke crisply, "Enter."

The door slid open, and a maid dressed in a green and gold dress walked inside. The woman placed a tray in front of her, tea still simmering from inside a fragile clay pot. Dia moved back, kneeling and touching her head to the floor respectfully.

Chanda pulled one of the two silver pins from her hair, and poured herself some tea. It was generally something a servant did, but she was feeling unsettled. She gently stirred the tea with the pin, and spoke with confidence she didn't feel, "How long have you served me, Dia?"

"I was sworn to you, some twenty years ago, your grace." Dia's voice was humble, and respectful. Not a single trace that she found the question to be insulting, or unusual. She served without question, always.

Blind loyalty. That was the vulnerability her father could exploit. For the safety of the empress, Dia would give up everything.

Chanda sighed, and bluffed, "I have heard that some among the palace's maidens are... Uncertain about who they serve. As my sworn friend, Dia, tell me. Is it true?"

"It... Is so." The woman hesitated, "If I may, I would not take it to heart, your grace. These are fearful times. The weak willed always become skittish. It simply requires discipline and time to overcome. Your father will see to it. If they cannot be convinced, they will be removed."

Chanda smiled, "I am not insulted or angered by it, Dia. I see it as an opportunity. You are my most trusted handmaiden. The greatest living example I can offer. I would take the worst of these maidens, and apprentice her to you. She may serve me... Poorly... At first. But it would allow her to be a beacon to light the way for others."

Dia seemed conflicted, her shoulders stiffening, "It is as you say, your grace."

"Is there one you can think of? Obviously, we should not invite an assassin to serve me tea. But one that might tear my sheets in anger? Or meet my eye?" Chanda said with faked amusement.

The maid nodded, still downcast, "Yes, your grace. There is one that immediately comes to mind. She received seven strikes this morning when she was caught trying to add bitter herbs to your tea. Harmless, except to the palate."

Chanda's stomach turned at the thought of seven strikes of a switch against bare and delicate skin. For a child's prank. This was the cruelty of discipline that her father would enforce. It was not the empress that she wished to be... What would Toofy had done? Killed them? Or seduced them? So many had fallen in love with the nekan empress, even if they could never touch her.

"What is her name?"

Dia hesitated, and then relaxed, "Lady Annette, goddaughter of Lord Ernest, your grace."