Malakun was brought to the Royal Wing’s Trinity Study, the twenty-five year old Swordslammer nervous about the terms of his arrival. The guards had been commanded to drag him in should he resist, though why he would resist the summons of his Empress he was unsure.
The Trinity Study, a large triangular room in the Royal District that stretches for hundreds of metres below to the Great Library, and is guarded at the entrance to the Empress’ private study on the Palace floor. Most floors are popular for private studying and teaching amongst the general public. It was built for magic studies, but when magic was eventually given up by the ruling families, it became a place for review and designing for the royals in their endeavours in armour and weapon smithing.
Malakun had only been in here a few times to aid his Empress, being advised by guards that she had fallen asleep, or she had been in the room too long and had weakened to needing aid exercising.
The guards nudged him towards her, hunched over the large table in the middle, and he worriedly stepped over.

“Malakun,” She suddenly announced, making him startle, “come here.”
He moved over and stood at her side.
“Yes, my Empress?”
She looked up at him from one side of her face, tilting her head to eye him.
“Do you know what this is?” She asked, tapping the book.
He eyed it worriedly.
“Cover of steel and silver bindings to add pages, the book is a family log.” He replied. “There are tens of thousands of them in the Lore district, all except for yours, milady, which is kept in your private vault and is clad in gold and platinum.”
She eyed him strictly for a moment or two.
“Yes.” She snapped. “And do you know to whom this belongs?”
Again he glanced at the book.
“No, milady; I cannot see the cover.”
She nodded at this.
“Have you ever heard of a family titled the Snapirons?”
Malakun blinked, and something in his head clicked, an old forgotten rule that Amalna’hash’s father had quite brutally pounded into his head.
“N-no, milady.” He hastily lied.
She eyes him again. “Malakun, you would not lie to your Empress, would you?”
“No milady.”
“Then answer me again, have you ever heard of the Snapirons?”
“I… I…”
She rose from her chair angrily and pointed to the guards.
“Leave us.”
The pair hesitated, and she turned her furious gaze on them.
“NOW!”
In their panic, the guards almost ripped the door off its hinges, slamming it shut behind them loud enough to be heard down in the library.

“Malakun, you will tell me the truth now!” She snapped angrily.
“I…I…”
“I go into my vault to find this volume within, hidden in a secret compartment. Its last entries are one Malakun Snapiron, born almost a week before myself, died not a month after. The scholars have been through the library, there are no other Malakun of our age in any of the other tomes, and yet here. You. Are. Explain!”
“I… That is my family tome...” He admitted, finally snapping. “My family were deep in debt to your father for one thing or another and they… sold me to him. Shortly after they fled the city, and I’ve not heard anything since.” He sadly looked to the ground beneath his pawed feet. “My family tome was in your vault because… I belong to you.
“Your father brought me up to be your aide, and he told me that I… no longer had a family, or belongings. Everything I own belongs to you, so I never really became interested in possessions, instead devoting more of my life to my role, being your aide.” He sighed heavily, feeling the urge to sit but remained standing nevertheless. “Your father drilled into me that I have no past, no future, only my duty to his daughter and that I would die an unrecorded life.”
Amalna’hash sighed, leaning against the table and crossing her arms.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” She asked. “Father has been dead for almost four years now, why?”
“I… I didn’t think it mattered anymore.” He mumbled in reply glumly. “I had my duties and you were perfectly content not knowing I was anything other than a hired aide.”
She sighed. “So… where do you eat? Sleep? Do you even have a room to yourself?”
He nodded. “I eat after my mistress has eaten, in the kitchen; the chefs are awfully kind, and often offer to cook a separate meal for me, but…”
“But..?”
“I… always have leftovers.” He finished. “I am not allowed a true meal, said your father; though I do have a room… warmest of the whole palace.”
“Let me guess,” She began grimly, “the boiler room?”
He nodded.
“The butler who came under your service after your father passed found an old mattress for me, and some sheets I could use should I need them, but before that I slept on the cobbles. When I bathe, it is in a hidden bathroom in the deepest parts of the castle, my clothes, the two sets I have, are kept in a small chest just outside that room, and I wash them myself, one each day.” He admitted. “I… I know you don’t believe me, naturally, after all this is your father we’re talking about…”
She growled audibly.
“Don’t tell me what I do and don’t believe.” She snipped angrily. “But you’re wrong in this case anyway, this is, after all, my father we’re talking about. I believe this entirely.”
“I am sorry to tell you this, Milady; this is my burden to bear…” He mumbled sadly.
“No, no it’s not.” She sighed. “You are still one of my subjects, and you deserve better than this. It was no wonder our historians couldn’t find your family armour in the halls.”
“Your father had it melted down.” He mumbled. “I know, he told me; every painful detail, everything that would torment me more into becoming your aide and only your aide.”

Amalna’hash sighed.
“At least he didn’t destroy this tome.” She said, tapping it. “Or what the cover concealed.”
Malakun looked puzzled. “Milady?”
She closed the book and lifted a piece of parchment which she carefully unfolded to reveal a large set of scribbles.
“Do you know what this is, Malakun?”
He shook his head slightly. “It is a large piece of,” he carefully inspected the parchment, sniffing it a little, “sheep-based parchment with what appear to be smithing instructions on it. I… I was never trained as a blacksmith, so you’ll have to excuse my ignorance, Milady.”
She looked at him as if he’d gone nuts before shaking her head.
“It is a set of blacksmithing plans, primarily those for family armour.” She said. “The insignia and plans are quite old, belonging to…” She opened the book and trailed a hand through it to a specific name. “Runimath Ironsnap, he completed the designs for this armour almost eight centuries ago. She closed the book and laid the plans across the table. “They’re quite old, obviously; and they show signs of little use, evidently the Ironsnap were never really prolific breeders. This is backed up by how few names are in the tome after his passing. That my father had all of the sets that existed melted down… he must have taken quite some time to do it in secret from the rest of our people… Either that or he went to the lowest floors and simply tossed it all into the Metal… We’ve not found a vault with any sort of family evidence in it either.”
“They either took it with them, or he destroyed it.” Malakun mumbled.
“Sounds like my father.” She grumbled in agreement. “Well, Malakun, I thank you for at least being honest with me; leave this in my hands now.”
“M… Milady?”
“My family wronged you, so I shall put it right.” She said, putting a hand behind his back and leading him to the door. “For now, return to your duties, alright?”
Meekly he nodded. “By your orders Milady.”
She watched him walk out and beckoned one of the guards to come in.
“Yes, Milady?”
“I want you to go to the room in which Malakun keeps his spare clothes and take them to a tailor, two suits is hardly fitting the wardrobe of a royal custodian.”
“Yes Milady.”
“Also, I would like you to…”

A few days passed, and Malakun kept up his usual routine. He aided the Empress in dressing in the mornings, re-dressed her when she went off to Metal’s End in her usual smithing apron, and did the general things he would do caretaking of an Empress, even picking her up from her afternoon jog because she’d exhausted herself one day. She was left to rest in her bath for a half hour or so to relax before he retrieved her from the water, dried her off and dressed her, again to go back to Metal’s End. It was nothing strange; she was a very frequent face at the world-famous forge, he’d even been asked to model for her once.
Almost a week after the awkward encounter, and he was called to one of the spare bedrooms, the Empress apparently waiting for him there.

He entered the room, where Amalna’hash was, indeed, waiting for him. She smiled up at him as he entered and closed the door.
“Ah, Malakun, you’re here; I was wondering if you’d help me with something.”
“Yes, Milady?”
She walked to the closet and pulled the doors open, revealing the wardrobe to be full and a suit of armour hanging within.
“Try this on for me?”
“M… Milady?”
“It has taken me quite some time to get it right, your ancestors knew how to make complex armour, but Family Armour is usually a closely held secret.
“Also, I do hope you like the room,” she said cheerfully, “it’s yours.”

After he had struggled himself into the armour, he turned to see his Empress eyeing him critically.
“Yes, it does fit you well…” She mumbled. “Time well spent; you’re to wear this on formal occasions, such as when other dignitaries or Dragons arrive. Tomorrow, we will go to Metal’s End and you shall at least learn how to smelt ore into ingots, no Suarnach under my rule goes without at least learning that.”
“M… Milady, you didn’t need to go to this trouble over me..!”
She chuckled at him.
“Of course I did.” She said cheerfully, stepping over and giving him a slight hug. “After all, you’re family!”