Chapter Text
You sit at your desk, sighing heavily as your eyes scan over the same three lines on the document in front of you. You’d been trying to focus on the missive for hours now, busying yourself with menial tasks as you ignored your main priorities. Namely, you were due to assist Councilor Shoola, your patron, with an upcoming lecture she was hosting – instead, you let time slip past you while you dabbled in your own personal projects, in spite of the impending deadline.
At the top of the document, in big, bold letters, elegantly traced in Shoola’s script, read “Urgent: Strictly Confidential”, followed by the scrawling list of her notes from the previous Council meeting and everything she wanted to accomplish in the next quarter.
Working for Shoola was...in short, it wasn’t what you wanted to be doing with your life. Really, who wanted to be an assistant forever? But, it was a great honor to be working under your mentor – she was the Councilor who most ardently spoke in favor of the City’s development and infrastructure, and that put your expertise as an engineer to good use. Six years of University schooling behind you, along with just as many years of experience with Shoola as your guide, you learned how to be studious, punctual, and definitely not a procrastinator.
You definitely weren’t writing in the margins of the missive, leaving inane notes about Shoola’s work and how you disagreed with her ideas that trade needed to be upheld, no matter the consequences – she was worried that her profits would be down in the upcoming quarter, but she made a note that no one was more worried than Councilor Hoskel, and he made it everyone’s problem.
Pinching the bridge of your nose, you try to stave away the impending headache that had been following you all day. You should just be grateful that you didn’t have to deal with Hoskel in person – he was much more tolerable on paper than he was in...any other setting, to be honest. You didn’t understand how the Council members could go around in circles for hours at a time, solving nothing while convincing themselves that they were the heralds of progress.
It was fitting, at least. The City of Progress had seen very little progress, relatively speaking, in the last twenty or so years. Councilor Heimerdinger had a unique insight into the fact that the City went through highs and lows when it came to moving forward – it seemed that Piltover was just in one of its low points, at least for a while. Maybe he was just trying to convince you to be the innovator who brought Piltover to new heights – you weren’t an inventor, though. You would hardly call yourself a scientist anymore – when you were a student, you were all over the title, convinced that you would change the world. You passed with flying colors, but when the real world came, you realized that you really had been a big fish in a small pond. Now, you felt like a tiny little fish among sharks.
You sigh, turning your attention back to the document. Blinking, you try to prepare yourself for the grueling process that would be deciphering her notes, sorting through what would be useful and what was just drivel. You manage to make something out about rerouting some of her products to the north end of Piltover, when there’s an urgent knock on your door.
Furrowing your brow, you glance over to your planner to confirm that you weren’t expecting anybody – you aren’t, so you call to the door, “Come in – it isn’t locked.” You set the missive face down, both so you can give your visitor your full attention and so you can keep Shoola’s notes private. An intern you only barely recognize steps inside, a plume of bright white hair on his head. He looks sheepish as he steps into your tiny office, cramped between the two bookcases on your wall and your desk, taking up the majority of the space. Notes and files are littered about the room, and the only chair in the room besides the one you’re inhabiting, is filled with books and little gadgets you’d tinkered with.
“Ma’am.” The intern nods to you, his sheepishness reflecting in the crack in his deep voice. He clears his throat, shaking his head before he straightens his back and continues, “There’s been an explosion in the center of town – in one of the penthouses. Councilor Shoola has requested that you accompany another member of University staff to investigate.”
“An explosion?” You ask, brow furrowing as you stand, the feet of your chair scraping against the floor, “What sort of explosion?”
“The...kind that destroys buildings?” The intern offers helplessly, shrugging, though he clearly wants to offer whatever help he can. He genuinely doesn’t know, “Councilor Heimerdinger believes that someone must have been dabbling in magical affairs – Councilor Kiramman’s daughter was affected by the blast.”
Your eyes widen a bit, “Is she alright?” You grab your coat from the hook on the wall, shrugging it on, “Was anyone hurt?”
“As far as we know, only a handful of passersby were involved in the direct blow. Councilor Kiramman’s daughter and the scientist only received superficial wounds.”
You release a relieved breath, “And why has Councilor Shoola asked for my presence at the penthouse? I assume that the Enforcers are already on site?” You’d been prepared for an utterly dull day – you were prepared for a quiet, mind numbing sort of day, and now, you had all sorts of adrenaline coursing through your veins, kicking that headache right out of your head.
“Yes, ma’am.” The intern nods, clearing his throat again, shifting in the doorway as you prepare to follow him, “The Enforcers are handling the questioning of the scientist. Councilor Heimerdinger is sending his assistant to investigate the illegal use of magic and his violations of the Ethos - Councilor Shoola has asked that you accompany him to investigate any illegal use of machinery.”
You nod, “Take me.”
You follow the intern to the Council’s meeting room, where they are already gathered, shouting at one another and attempting to speak over the other. Councilor Medarda is speaking when you enter the room, and the only Councilor not in their seat is Heimerdinger.
Heimerdinger is standing off to the side with his assistant. As soon as the door shuts behind you, the intern is scurrying back out the way the two of you came, not willing to face the wrath of the Councilors. You square your shoulders and walk straight ahead, approaching Councilor Heimerdinger. You can feel Councilors Kiramman and Shoola staring at you – Councilor Shoola stands, walking around the table to join Heimerdinger, his assistant, and yourself.
“Councilor.” Heimerdinger nods toward Shoola, doing his best to ignore the rest of the Council, then turns to you, greeting you by name, “I’m sure you remember Viktor, yes?”
“All due respect, Councilor Heimerdinger, but I don’t think now is the time for pleasantries and introductions. I’m sure Damien informed you of the explosion in the penthouses?” Shoola asks, looking at you. Your heart is pounding in your chest, and you’re certain that something bigger than yourself is happening.
You feel very small and uninformed – all of these people are clearly miles ahead of you, but you take a deep breath, doing your best to keep things in check. You can freak out after you and Viktor, Heimerdinger’s assistant, go and check this penthouse out. You can freak out after you leave work and fall into your little cot and call it a night – for now, you need to keep things together and appear like you deserve this position, at least. “He did.” You nod, trying to keep your hands from shaking, “He has – first responders have already scoped the scene, and now we’re,” you motion between yourself and Viktor, “meant to check for anything...out of place in his penthouse.”
“Precisely.” Heimerdinger nods, “Viktor has the address. We’ve reassured Councilor Kiramman that the two of you are more than capable of handling this situation in an unbiased, fair manner – I know the boy well enough.”
“Well, I don’t.” Shoola says, “Show him what happens when you put the people of Piltover at risk.”
…
You take a deep breath as you shut the door behind you, taking a moment to shut your eyes and steady yourself. The adrenaline is beginning to be replaced by the haunting notion that you really don’t deserve this job – how often did you go out into the field? You were working, and you were supposed to leave the University?
“Are you alright?” Is the first thing that Viktor asks you, setting a concerned hand on your shoulder. You’d only meant to take a steadying breath and move on, but apparently, you’d taken longer than was socially acceptable.
“Of course.” You nod, turning to face him, “Just...they’re always a bit intense. We should get moving.” You wring your hands together, blaming your nerves on the fact that you were genuinely worried about someone being seriously hurt in this...cataclysm.
He seems satisfied with your answer. “I know Councilor Shoola did away with...pleasant introductions, but it’s good to finally make your acquaintance, though not particularly under the best of circumstances.” He chuckles softly, “My name is Viktor.”
You offer him your name, smiling kindly, thankful that he was not nearly as intense as the rest of this situation. You understood that the two of you needed to move fast, but with the Enforcers on scene, none of the illegal materials would be going anywhere any time before you got there.
He moves back a step, leaning heavily on his cane, letting you lead the way. The two of you make your way to the penthouse in relative silence, sharing a polite ride to the upper southside of Piltover. Viktor is a handsome man - a thin, pale face with wide, brown eyes, dressed sharply enough to fit in with the privileged few who lingered in the University. You don’t think you’d ever been in a room with him for more than twenty minutes, though you might have attended a lecture led by Councilor Salo last quarter. He seemed to have recognized you though. What had he said? It’s good to finally make your acquaintance. Surely, he was just being kind, but there was something about the way you thought about it that made you wonder if he’d wanted to introduce himself sooner.
“What...exactly happened?” You finally ask as the carriage you and Viktor ride in almost comes to a stop.
He purses his lips into a thin line, sitting across from you. He gazes out the window, watching the destroyed building come into view. You gasp softly, transfixed by the rubble and what little the Enforcers were able to salvage as Viktor answers, “We don’t know much. Four children from the Under City were seen running from the scene, and Enforcers were not able to apprehend them. We still aren’t certain what caused the actual explosion.”
You nod, opening the carriage door, “Something must have tipped them off to involve us, though, right?” You ask, stepping out of the carriage, turning so you can face Viktor as he follows you out. “I mean, they wouldn’t have asked two University assistants to come and...poke around without some idea of what caused all this.”
“You’re right.” Viktor says, putting his cane on the step before stepping down, “The scientist, Jayce Talis,” he says his name like a foreign slur, “he has gotten minor citations before, mostly from Professor Heimerdinger. He’s been reported to have a strong belief that the Arcane is something that can be wielded by people who are not mages.”
It's a funny idea, and you chuckle as you follow Viktor into the penthouse, even though and Enforcer on duty gives you a dirty look, “People have a tendency to dabble in things that are bound to hurt them.”
Viktor arches a brow, leading you up the stairs, “I did not realize Councilor Shoola’s wheel of study involved philosophy.”
You smile, though Viktor is looking away from you, “It isn’t, not really. It is, however, deeply rooted in history and architecture.” You don’t explain any further, but you are well aware that Piltover was built on the backs of people attempting to wield magic.
“Sir. Ma’am.” An enforcer greets the two of you before Viktor can respond. After Viktor gives him his credentials, and you yours, the enforcer leads the two of you to the main room, where a disgruntled Sheriff Grayson is interrogating a young man sitting in a chair.
Sheriff Grayson looks to the two of you as the Enforcer introduces you and Viktor as the liaisons from the University. “Ah.” She says, nodding in greeting, “My men can’t make heads or tails of most of this junk.” Viktor approaches the chalkboard almost immediately, looking at the data, at the real work Mr. Talis has been committing himself too. You, on the other hand, are more drawn to the physical collection of things Mr. Talis has.
“It’s not -!” Mr. Talis says indignantly, attempting to stand. Grayson pushes him back down, giving him a low, silent warning. He heeds it.
“Frankly, Mr. Talis,” you say, stepping up to a table on the far side of the room, looking at some of the bits and baubles around, “that’s for me and my colleague to decide.” Jayce crosses his arms over his chest, glaring between you and Viktor, but he allows the two of you to do your jobs.