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The Good Life: Small World (ch. 67)
🕑 Added 2024-11-15 15:54:58 +0000 UTCThere were some days that Mel Medarda was almost thankful that her mother had banished her from Noxus. It was a brutal land that only understood force and strength -- where your value came from what you could take from others and how well you could protect what you had. Piltover, in comparison, was an enlightened city. Physical strength meant nothing. What mattered was your mind, and how you applied it.
“The invitations have been given,” Mel's assistant informed her as a team applied her makeup. Days like this were a tedious affair, as each appearance in the public eye required a suitable look that matched the venue as well as the class of people she would find herself surrounded with. “Law Trafalgar and Asami Sato have both readily accepted theirs. The others are showing hesitation, but are likely to accept.”
Law had stolen the show -- a completely new form of energy, with immediate practical applications, as well as that ‘microfusion battery’ as he called it. Something that she knew Jayce and his partner Viktor had envisioned with Hextech, and she was all too eager to have them begin development on portable Hextech devices. However, he was hardly the only one with an excellent showing.
Asami's drones had been a vision. Foldable, compact, with a ten pound carry limit. Cheap to manufacture, easy to repair. The only true weakness was that they required charging stations.
They were unexpected stars, and welcomed surprises, though Mel did wish she had known of them beforehand. Three of the five notable talents she had been keeping an eye on rather unfortunately didn't live up to her expectations. A common occurrence, sadly. Every inventor wanted to be the next Jayce Talis or the next Heimerdinger, leaving a lasting legacy on Piltover and the world at large. Precious few had the capacity to handle that kind of pressure, even if they did have the raw talent to create something marvelous.
“If they refuse, offer a more private meeting at a later date. They fear being in the shadow of giants,” Mel knew, watching as her appearance was transformed once more. Her hair was done up, the palette of her make up changing to match the blue, white, and gold dress that she wore -- which had a deep chest line and bared her shoulders and back in such a way as to draw attention to the liquid gold embedded in her skin. “The dossier on Law and Asami?”
“Asami is likely a foreigner, as there is no mention of her prior to her arrival some two weeks ago. Law, however, is attempting to pass himself off as a native of Piltover, but there is evidence to suggest that he is an Undercity native.” Her assistant dutifully replied, holding out a folder with the information that she had quickly gathered. Information that she only sought some hours prior.
“He's looking to escape the prejudice, hm?” Mel couldn't say she truly understood it, but there was a deep and bitter resentment between the upper class of Piltover and those from the Undercity. A resentment that had been brewing for centuries. In some ways, it was a tale as old as time -- those that were without resented those that had too much, and those with too much looked down upon those with nothing.
Being a native of the Undercity would close a number of doors for Law, so he styled himself as one of Piltover's own. Charismatic and adaptable.
“If we found this, then others will have as well. Its use as leverage diminishes the more people know it,” Mel decided as the makeup team took a step back. “Instead, support the narrative that he's a Piltover native. It won't deceive those already in the know, but it will throw off the trail of those that are lagging behind. Continue looking into Asami -- her heritage matters little, but I would rather there be no unexpected surprises from her past.”
Her assistant nodded as Mel stood up and gave herself a once over. “Excellent work as always, ladies,” she praised, a hint of a smile curling at the edges of her lips. She looked radiant. Perfect for the reveal that would change the world at large. Piltover was already the world's center for trade, but with the spire that was being built…
Her investments would pay off wonderfully.
And that was another reason why she was almost glad to be exiled to Piltover. She was already part of the richest house in Piltover, but soon she would be the richest Medarda as well. Undeniable proof to her mother that her ways weren't wrong. In a single generation, she would have ascended from the disowned heir mocked as the poorest Medarda to matching and surpassing everything that the Medarda Clan had built over the course of centuries.
That thought made the faint smirk she wore blossom into a true smile as they departed for the grand reveal -- the villa of Heimerdinger, who graciously offered his home simply because it had the best view of the spire.
It was on the carriage ride over, however, that she heard some unwelcome news. “It seems that Law has already arrived at the party, my lady. He was personally invited by Heimerdinger himself.” Her assistant informed her as one of their servants quickly delivered the news.
“Hm. Unfortunate but not unexpected,” Mel replied, accepting the news and adapting her plan to approach him. She would have preferred a private and personal meeting prior to the party, but this worked just as well. Had it been anyone but Heimerdinger, Mel would have suspected duplicity and the desire to pluck a promising seed before it could be planted in her garden, but it was impossible to suspect Heimerdinger. The revered Yordle simply didn't have it in him. The thought likely wouldn't even occur to him, even.
Heimerdinger was a man motivated by science. Progress. Money, influence, and power… they weren't even factors to be considered to him. It would be his undoing, Mel suspected. His position was secure enough due to his status as the founder of Piltover, as well as his position as Dean of the University. But one day, he would attempt to go against the grain regardless of the will of the rest of the Council, and when that happened Mel suspected he would come to realize that he had far fewer friends than he thought.
But that was an issue for another day, Mel decided. He was a welcomed controlled element in the Council, so she had no plans to oust him herself. He was quite useful. Such as by providing her an opportunity to naturally interject herself into a conversation.
Heimerdinger's villa was built more up than wide. Prior to the spire, it had been one of the tallest buildings in the city. He said it was to grant him a wonderful view of the skyline, so that he could watch it change over the centuries. The party itself was on the top floor, a servant welcoming them at the door and taking them to a lift that brought them up.
It was there that Mel was greeted by her peers. The Council of Piltover. The richest merchants in the city. Powerful industrialists. As well as the noble clans who could boast more than a few talented ancestors that had created something of use, as House Tallis had been before Hextech. They all mingled amongst themselves, making polite conversation and in doing so, the various factions within the city were revealed. Because, even among those that possessed more than enough, there were still those that had more and those that had less.
Noxus could keep its armies and its bloodshed. This was her battlefield.
Her arrival was noticed by political allies and enemies alike -- another conflict as old as time, the new money against the old money. Mel's gaze drifted to her factional allies, meeting the gaze of Cassandra Kiramman. Mel offered a smile as she approached, her awareness expanding as she took note of everyone in the room.
Heimerdinger was on the balcony with Jayce, Viktor, and Law. The four of them seemed to be having an animated conversation that the sharks that circled them hadn't found a way to interject into, so they waited for when the conversation ended to pounce.
Sobal busied himself with entertaining a number of industrialists that were invested in the Undercity. Shoring up support, Mel imagined. The man imagined himself to be a firebrand -- old money that embraced the new. He deluded himself into thinking he picked up anything but her scraps.
“Councilor Cassandra,” Mel greeted with a warm smile. “You look radiant. You as well, Caitlyn,” Mel said, her gaze sliding to the younger Kiramman. The blue haired blue eyed girl was remarkably out of place, and Mel adored her for it. She was in her late teens now, fully grown into herself. She was beautiful, cutting an impressive figure in her riyal blue dress. It was her nature that stood out, because she openly looked utterly miserable.
She was in that awkward phase that Mel knew quite well. Independent enough to have your own thoughts, but not quite able to act on them.
“Councilor Medarda,” Cassandra replied, her tone even as she clutched a glass of Ionian wine a tad tighter between her fingers. “Fashionably late, as always. For good reason, it seems -- your dress is simply wonderful.”
“You're too kind,” Mel smiled. It was a unique dance they had been forced into. Politically, they were allies. They were part of the same faction -- herself, House Kiramman, House Ferros, and the House of Councilor Hoskel. Yet, there was factionalism even in political camps, as her House was founded in Noxus. And it was only natural to resent a rising star, after all. “I take it that you've had a productive day?”
“Less so than I had hoped,” Cassandra admitted. “Some stars outshine others.” By that, Mel knew she meant that one of the sponsors she had offered had underperformed. Mel knew exactly which one, as well. “And others are simply blinding,” she added with a small tilt of her head, towards Jayce.
A former investment of hers that she sold off mere hours before a tremendous payoff.
The source of the rift between them. Mel had poached her investment -- Jayce, the Man of Tomorrow and creator of Hextech. After that fateful mishap of a blown up laboratory, the reveal that Jayce had been smuggling illegal equipment without proper oversight coupled with his outburst that he was attempting to master the one taboo of the City of Progress… it was only natural that Cassandra would have cut off any ties. People in their position could hardly afford to fall for a sunken cost fallacy.
Yet, as understandable as it was, Jayce hadn't forgotten it. When he was at his lowest, when his dreams were vanishing before his eyes… people only truly recalled the last good thing you did for them, but they would always remember every time you slighted them. House Kiramman turned their backs on him and, in his hour of need, it was Mel Medarda that gave him the chance to prove to the world that he was right. Who gave him back his dream.
That, despite all that they had invested into him and House Tallis, had put Jayce firmly in her camp.
“Yes, as impressive as some of the inventions were, what will be revealed is the only thing anyone will be talking about,” Mel agreed, her polite smile matching Cassandra’s while Caitlyn glanced between the two of them, sensing the unspoken tension.
It was Jayce’s fondness for Caitlyn that was House Kiramman’s saving grace. It was why they brought their daughter to every gathering that Jayce attended. Why they pushed their friendship in the hopes it could become something more. The poor dear. Her parents genuinely had no idea that their daughter had no attraction to men in the slightest.
“Hm. It's a shame that Stevan Ferros couldn't attend -- it is a historic day, after all.” The Patriarch of House Ferros. A sickly man that had made increasingly fewer appearances among the Council over the past ten years. But, even before that, he was as likely to miss a meeting as he was to attend. It was a welcomed development for Mel -- it was the waning influence of House Ferros that allowed her to rise as she had.
“Indeed. I would have thought they would have at least sent Camille as a representative,” Mel remarked idly. Camille Ferros was the one reason House Ferros maintained its place amongst the great Houses and its Council seat. A diligent, humorless woman in her late sixties who ruthlessly secured the future of her family. It was a quirk of the Ferros family -- one member was the head, and a sibling became their right hand and principal intelligencer.
“Oh, I imagine she's here somewhere. I almost pity whoever happens to see her,” Cassandra remarked, earning an intrigued expression from her daughter. It was then Mel watched Cassandra flush as she realized that perhaps she had a touch too much wine and was being more cavalier than she should. That being said, she wasn't likely wrong. “Though, speaking of seeing someone… I see that another prospect has found their way here.”
Cassandra was right. Subtly glancing over, Mel saw Asami entering the party. Her expression was guarded, but she didn't seem uncomfortable. Mel's first thought was that she had experience in these kinds of situations -- surrounded by those that could destroy her with a word, put at the center of attention. If so, that was an interesting development. “Not by my invitation, it would seem.”
If she was, then Mel would have been informed of her arrival beforehand.
The who became obvious when Sobal began to walk over, throwing on his most charming smile. Neither Mel nor Cassandra openly groaned, but it was a near thing. “Shall you put out that particular fire, or shall I?” Mel questioned and Cassandra visibly swallowed a sigh.
“I shall. His feathers are still quite ruffled with you undercutting his deal with those Ionian merchants,” Cassandra said, starting to move away.
“Mother,” Caitlyn started to complain, only to be silenced by a glance from her mother.
“It's a party, my daughter. Mingle,” Cassandra said, her gaze flickering to Mel.
In response, Mel looped an arm around Caitlyn's, earning an embarrassed squawk from the young woman. Too easily startled, she was. “I know of a few familiar faces that could use the presence of two beautiful women,” Mel said, patting Caitlyn on the hand, making the girl flush. Cassandra didn't seem to know if she should be thankful or not, but inclined her head all the same.
Such was their uneasy alliance. The friendship between Jayce and Caitlyn acted as a stabilizing influence. Neither had the desire to risk alienating such an important connection, and so they were forced to work together even as they snipped at one another. For her part,
, this was a wonderful opportunity to ingratiate herself with the next generation of Kiramman. After all, she and Caitlyn were of a similar age.
“Thanks for that,” Caitlyn muttered as her mother went to put out a budding fire.
“No need for thanks, darling. It's my pleasure,” Mel replied, more honest than she usually was. The girl was utterly helpless when it came to politics -- entirely too genuine and well meaning, but that happened to be what she liked about Caitlyn. That, and she saw a little bit of herself in the girl.
“It feels like you always bail me out at these parties,” Caitlyn sighed.
Mel laughed, “Because I do.” She understood the girl too well. Knowing that she didn't fit in, but not knowing why she didn't. Wanting to, but not sure how. Not without cutting off pieces of herself to fit a square peg into a round hole at any rate. “I take it that your presence here means you haven't spoken to her about the Enforcer academy?”
“I'm actually here because I spoke to her about it,” Caitlyn replied with a smirk as they made their way across the room, heading to their destination on the balcony. “It's the deal I made. I get to go to the academy when the next semester starts, and in exchange I have to attend these gatherings. Without complaint.”
“A true challenge,” Mel knew. It was news to her -- she hadn't expected for Cassandra to cave under Caitlyn's long held ambition to become an Enforcer. An ambition that came as the result of her meeting the prior Sheriff of the Enforcers, Grayson. It was a useful piece of information. She would never expect Caitlyn to bend her moral code, but she would be a useful connection to have in the Enforcers. After all, no matter how much she may hate it, Caitlyn was destined to rise in the ranks simply because of her last name.
Stepping out onto the balcony, she began to overhear the animated conversation that the four gifted minds were having. “-energy, in itself, can't be created or destroyed. It merely changes forms. Wood set on fire becomes light, heat and ash, which then gets scattered about. There are countless forms of energy transference around us, but they're either inefficient or impractical to tap into.”
Law had a voice fit for a stage. A face for one too. He wasn't classically handsome as Jayce was, but he was handsome in a roguish way. If Jayce was the knight in shining armor, then Law was the thief that stole a maiden's heart in the dead of night. It was good -- being pleasant to look at had innumerable advantages. However, more importantly, he knew how to use his looks to his advantage.
“Atoms, the primary building block of all matter, are home to extraordinary amounts of energy, with certain materials naturally possessing more, and natural decay rates in which they extend that natural energy. Not unlike mana crystals, to my knowledge,” Law continued. He could talk the talk, Mel acknowledged. He appeared to be one of the rare few that had the looks, confidence, and brains to utilize his talents.
“For how long, I wonder?” Viktor questioned while Jayce seemed utterly enraptured by whatever Law was speaking about.
“A fusion generator, provided there are no fluctuations and maintenance is properly maintained, can theoretically power the university for a century. Theoretically,” Law said and that was the perfect opportunity to break into the conversation.
“Forgive my interruption, but that sounds like a cause for concern for the fissure mining industry,” she said, greeting them all with a smile.
Jayce perked up upon seeing them both, “Mel? Cait? Oh, you have to hear this -- it- it's revolutionary!” Jayce exclaimed, a joyful smile spreading across his lips. He was, first and foremost, an inventor. She had been nudging him to become more, to seize upon his popularity. Things there were progressing, but they hadn't arrived at their natural conclusion. “It's exactly what we wanted to accomplish with Hextech.” He continued, genuinely oblivious to how damning that was to their goals.
“So I've gathered,” Mel replied, her gaze meeting Law's to find his gaze held a sharp, cutting intelligence. Even with a passing glance, there was no mistaking him for what he was.
A wolf amongst the sheep.
“Mel Medarda,” Mel introduced herself, offering a hand.
“Law Trafalgar,” Law introduced. “And you're dead on the mark about the fissure mining sector. They've been giving me some stink eye all night.”
“Such is the nature of change, my boy! There are those that embrace it fully, and, sadly, those that resist its course.” Heimerdinger said with a sad shake of his head. Just as he had once been completely against the idea of Hextech, he now fully embraced it as a technology of the future.
Mel smiled thinly, “I don't suppose you would have any assurances for their reasonable concerns? Fissure mining has long since been the cornerstone industry of Piltover. The fissures are a significant reason why Piltover was founded here. Many households, in the Undercity in particular, rely upon it as their occupation.” Mel noted, poking and prodding as she wanted.
A wolf could only be a wolf, in the end. Yet, it could be trained to act like a lap dog.
Law offered a biting smile, “None whatsoever, I'm afraid. Those in the Undercity will have to seek alternative means to find work -- but I can see to that myself. So, the only ones that’ll lose out are those that own the business. And to them… I do have some advice, I suppose.” His smile grew, “Adapt or die.”
Marvelous. He would either go the distance or die in obscurity. There was no middle ground.
Caitlyn snorted, “I'd pay money to see you say that to their faces.” She said, cracking a grin.
“How much? I can see a few pricks that could use a healthy dose of the truth,” Law remarked, his lips quirked into a charming grin. So he was fearless as well. Seeing as he apparently originated from the Undercity, he would know better than anyone the kind of people the fissure industrialists were. They were little better than those so-called Chem-Barons -- gangsters and thugs by another name.
Caitlyn smiled back, realizing that Law was serious. Heimerdinger, however, sighed, “You can't force change, my boy.”
“Yeah, I can,” Law replied, glancing down at the professor. “If those schmucks try to get in my way, I'll just release the technology to the public.” Dangerous. Very dangerous. The words weren't directed at her in particular, but they felt like they were for her -- or, rather, people like her. The ones that wanted to use what he created for their own benefit and if they couldn't, to keep it from falling into anyone else's hands.
It was Viktor that spoke, appearing impressed, “You would? What of your legacy?” The ultimate concern for the creative type. What they left behind, how they would be remembered…
She didn't expect for Law to offer a dismissive shrug. “Meh. I'll just create something else. And if the morons in this room try to cut me down to size again, I'll just create something else again. The only way they can win is if they kill me, and I'm rather difficult to kill.” That sounded like he was speaking from experience.
“I admire your confidence, Law. I wish it came with an equal measure of caution, however,” Heimerdinger sighed a split second before there was a chime that rang out across the city. The Yordle immediately perked up as both Jayce and Viktor were suddenly filled with an eager excitement. “Oh, it's time for the grand reveal! Already? Ah! I forgot to rehearse my speech!”
Viktor looked alarmed, “We were supposed to prepare a speech?”
“My mom wrote a few -- I think you could borrow one,” Jayce said, the group starting to move away. However, before he did, he stuck a hand out to Law. “If you're willing, I'd really like to talk about the fusion generator later. And the microfusion cells. They're brilliant and I think they have a lot of potential.”
“I'd welcome the opportunity to brag,” Law said, shaking his hand. They seemed to get along well enough, Mel noted, watching as Jayce shot Caitlyn an apologetic look as he was forced to leave.
Naturally, as a Council member, her presence was expected as well. So, their meeting was cut dreadfully short. But, she’d seen everything she needed to see.
“I might also be interested in having a frank conversation about your breakthrough technology,” Mel decided, accepting a flute of champagne as a servant walked by. “It seems to be a worthy investment.”
Law smiled, “It would be my pleasure.”
…
Silco brought a cigar to his lips, striking a match to light the end of it, before puffing to make sure it burned evenly. The cigar was terrible, but they were the kind that he grew up smoking. An odd quirk of fate -- he grew up in the mines, harvesting the heavy and dense gasses that were then refined into this or that for Piltover. The result was that normal air was just too light for him. It felt odd for the air to not have a… texture.
“What do you have for me?” He questioned, looking to one of the few people he could trust without reservation. Sevika sat across from him, a poncho obscuring the prosthetic arm that he’d had designed for her. An arm she lost saving his life the day he lost a brother and gained the Undercity.
“The Slickjaws got hit hard,” Sevika reported, hunched slightly in her chair. Leather tanned skin, dark hair -- she could have been pretty, but she had a habit of blocking with her face as a child from what Silco recalled. “They hid it as best they could. Did a good job of it too, but people still talk. A group of a dozen attacked their headquarters and stole a couple barrels of Shimmer.”
That did explain the discrepancy, Silco decided. All of his Chem-Barons were stealing from him. They skimmed off the top -- money, chems, backroom deals with outsiders. He expected it and kept track of it. Them taking a little, he didn't mind. But taking a lot would have consequences. Which is how he caught wind of the Slickjaw's pulling from other revenue streams to cover costs.
He’d thought they had simply stolen the barrels from him before they attempted to resell them somewhere outside of Zaun. “How brazen,” Silco remarked, not disapprovingly.
“They're missing a good two dozen people,” Sevika continued. “But they're pretending that they're still there to save face. Finn is out of commission too. I'm figuring that he was hit during the fight.”
Hm. The Slickjaws were a useful branch of his organization, but not an irreplaceable one. Them losing so many members would weaken them severely. The loss of face -- getting attacked and stolen from, as if their headquarters was just another brick house on the Lane -- would be significantly worse. “Reprisals?”
“None yet, but they're on the streets, on the prowl,” Sevika replied.
They wanted to keep this quiet. Take care of it before it became a problem larger than they could handle. Though, by the sounds of it, it already was.
“Keep me informed,” Silco decided, not taking any overt action. He didn't need to. Not this time. Sevika took that as the dismissal for what it was and she left his office. Once she was gone, Silco breathed deeply from his cigar before letting it out as a cloud of smoke. “How did she do?”
There was a dismissive snort from above him, “She wouldn't know subtle if it smacked her in the face with a brick,” Jinx remarked, hanging from the rafters. “She got most of the story. Not all of it. Silly Sevika.”
He was inclined to agree. Sevika was competent, but she was a bruiser. When she had a problem before her, and she could punch it, she was the right tool for the job every time. “And the rest?”
“Finn's not in no hospital,” Jinx said in a musical tone. “Ol’ Slickjaw found himself in the loony bin. Kept howling about his skin.” That was of interest, making Silco pause.
“Did you see him?” He asked, frowning as he took another puff. It was an unexpected development, and in this line of work, surprises were rarely welcomed.
“I think so. Thing is, it's hard to tell. He's lost that dumb looking gold jaw thing and all of his tattoos,” Jinx continued before she leaned too far on the rafter above. She tumbled down, flipping so that she gracefully landed in the chair across from him.
His adopted daughter. The heir to his throne.
Her blue hair had grown out long, styled into two long braids. Her eyes were large and as blue as the sky, her frame petite with blue clouds reminiscent of the day they met tattooed over one shoulder and her ribs. She kicked her feet up, crossing them on her desk as she gave him a lazy smile. “Doesn't have any hair either -- I checked! Smooth as a baby's bottom allllll over. And given what happened to the bodies…” She trailed off hintingly.
He obliged her, “What happened to the bodies?”
“They got diced to bits! Chunks no bigger than a grub slug,” Jinx informed with a wide smirk that only grew at his visible surprise. “Clean cuts all the way through. Real closed casket kind of funeral. From the sounds of things, there were so many pieces that you couldn't tell who from who!”
“A mage,” Silco muttered under his breath, far more interested in the development now. They were hardly unheard of in Piltover and Zaun. Piltover might have the luxury of ostracizing those with a talent for the arcane, but here in their shadow, Zaun was in no such position. But still, mages were rare. In the entirety of his life, Silco had only ever met a single one, and to this day, he wasn’t sure if the man had just been exceptionally talented at parlor tricks.
“From the sounds of it, he didn't dice up Finn. He flayed him,” Jinx continued, giving a theatrical shiver at the thought.
Silco hummed, “That would explain the lack of tattoos.”
“That's what I said!” Jinx exclaimed, “Asked around about the attack, and listened when people thought I wasn't there. Apparently, the guy we're looking for hangs out down below. Way down below. Tall, pink hair, four red eyes, and he's got a second mouth for a bellybutton.” That earned a slow blink from Silco.
“Hm,” Silco hummed, making Jinx pout.
“Come on, give me a little more than that! That's some weird news!” She groused, rolling her eyes when he just smirked in her direction. “In that case, there's one other thing you should know about him -- the guy has been eating people. Kidnapped a chef and he's been disappearing folk. Most think it's the usual crime or people pulling a vanishing act, but they're getting served up and going in his belly.”
A mutated cannibal mage?
Now that was worth his attention.
“Have-” Silco began before he heard a bell chime in the distance. He immediately scowled, knowing exactly what it meant as his scowl was matched by a fierce grin from his daughter.
“You know what time it is! Let's go watch the show!” Jinx decided, reaching out to pluck the cigar from his hands, snuffing it out in a ash tray she had personally… decorated, before grabbing his hand. She wasn't the type to take no for an answer. There were times that he regretted teaching her that.
All the same, he didn't resist as they left the club -- the Last Drop. The beating heart of Zaun. It wasn't the oldest building in the Undercity, by any means, but it was the most important. It was where the first failed rebellion against Piltover was planned, and now it was where the second rebellion was being born.
They were hardly the only ones that were interested in seeing the show -- all the populace knew was that the tower was complete and that it did something, with today being the day they all learned what. Silco would have been another one of the ignorant masses if he didn't have a copy of Heimerdinger’s planned speech. It was a sickeningly sweet and hopeful one, and Silco was glad he didn't have to stomach listening to it.
“Come on, come on!” Jinx said, pulling him over to a ledge that she took a seat on. They were above Zaun, in the slums that were marked with bridges into Piltover. From their vantage, they had a good enough view of the spire that now dominated the skyline. Silco mused on how he disliked it as he took out another cigar, the thin air irritating his lungs.
Together, they watched as an airship rose up to the top of the spire before a familiar blue hue seemed to rise up from the base of the spire. An arcane symbol flashed on the surface of the white spire, but Silco had no clue what it might mean. Several rings of blue light appeared, drawing the airship closer…
Then the airship vanished, flung across the sky faster than the eye could see.
“Huh? That's it?!” Jinx exclaimed, feeling cheated. Silco felt similarly, but for very different reasons.
“Discounting waystations, refueling, and the weather -- ideally, it would take an airship six months to reach Noxus Prime, the capital of the Noxian Empire,” Silco started, and Jinx recognized his lecturing tone. “A trip back is another six months. A year-long round trip.” Then he jabbed the burning end of his cigar accusingly at the spire, “With Hextech, that airship will arrive at Noxus Prime today - if it's not already there. Shaving a full half year off the journey.”
He hated it. Resented it. If he could, he’d break that spire down brick by brick. The very moment that it felt like he finally had an advantage over Piltover, they go and do something like this. Build a spire that would make Piltover the trade capital of the world, simply because making it to Piltover put you at less than a days travel from anywhere in the world.
Traveling across the world in a day meant no spoilage. No refueling costs. A large cargo hold could be filled with goods that otherwise wouldn’t survive a journey so far, selling for a massive profit in whatever corner of the world they went, then filling up that same cargo bay with nonperishables as they made their way back to Piltover. It was brilliant, that much he could admit despite how much he hated it.
As the merchants were so fond of saying, ‘time was money.’
“I imagine in ten years, in tariffs alone, Piltover will pay off the construction of that tower. And once they do… the gap will be wider than ever,” Silco mused. That spire would never be for the Undercity. For Zaun. Silco would make sure that they benefited from it, one way or the other, but he knew in his bones that the spire changed everything. Hextech changed everything.
Chemtech, Shimmer, had closed the gap for a time. But now it was wider than ever.
How he felt must have shown on his face, because Jinx snaked her hand into his and leaned her head on his shoulder, “Let them play with their silly little tower. If we feel like it, we can just knock it down, and then where would they be?”
That got a chuckle out of him. It was an amusing thought, but not practical. Simply because the spire opened the world to his enterprise as well. He could use this. Just as he could use the cannibal mage that lurked under their feet.
Enemies high and low.
“Let's keep an eye on them both -- the spire and our new mage. Both are dangerous for their own reasons, Jinx… but with careful application, we can use them.” He said, watching as Piltover rejoiced at it's bright future.
This was the beginning of the end for them, he swore in the confines of his own mind. One way or the other, Zaun would have its freedom.
He would make sure of it.
