Chapter Text
The most adequate way to describe the council chambers is that they are stale.
In pristine condition and manner on the outside, but within? Expired beyond its time. It's how I perceive most of everything and everyone within these chambers, except for Mel, of course. The scientists hold their own, but their minds are within the tech they cherish. Kiramman and Shoola are tolerable. Everyone else worthwhile had been buried years ago, their memories tainted by the dull atmosphere within this gilded cage.
"The undercity is still an abomination to our beautiful city. They are rabid and completely out of control!"
Hoskel and Salo make the most insufferable duo when they get on a tangent. This evening, it's once more based on the dire "universal truth" of the need for the undercities' extermination. For the betterment of Piltover, of course.
"If I may, I might add some clarity to the subject based on recent reports."
Though not technically a counselor, the Medarda name holds power, and my repeated detailed assistance by Mel's side has gained me some leverage of my own. With a slight nod of allowance, I take a glance at my docs before addressing the table.
"Despite the current tensions with our undercity, the crime levels are still in decline and more centered within their area level of district. Moreover, their trade district has continued to expand with the influx of shimmer in the market. Word has reached out to far lands and has brought a slight uptick in interest in our markets as well, on top of the hextech boost, of course. If anything, data points to a potential interest in idea partnerships or business proposals."
"You overstep! A partnership with the Undercity- have you gone mad? They'll rob us blind!"
"Unlike some, I do not make suggestions based on my mind, Senator Salo. It's data. You are at no more risk of being robbed blind by these people than a blind man to sight itself."
That brings the slightest twitch to Mel's lips along with glances between Kiramman and Shoola.
"However, if that doesn't implore you, then maybe this will."
I slide a sheet towards him and a few others to the rest of the table. It's a breakdown of the exact amount of profit projected for the undercity and potential assets for Piltover in the language they know best. Wealth.
The shift is considerable. There are glances around the table, silent negotiations at play. I give a slight nod and step back from the table, knowing when my piece is said.
"This brings a lot of fuel for thought and consideration. Shall we adjourn on that note?"
Kiramman, always one for prompt timing, proposes mutual agreement from the rest of the counsel. With that, the meeting closes. I wait for Mel to make way towards the exit and follow in tow. Once the doors close behind us, she smiles.
"My, my, what a sharp protoge you've come to be." She nudges my shoulder, and I scoff.
"I digress. I can only tolerate the blatant hypocrisy for so long."
"Mmm, that's why you've been my favorite assistant... and friend."
I look up at Mel with a warm smile matching hers. We had met briefly 2 years ago at the remembrance for the late Sheriff Grayson. Marcus has been surprisingly adamant about honoring her every year as a mandatory event, not that I minded. I had been working under her department since I got out of college. She took me on her team, stating that she could use a sharp mind with the way the current state of things was going.
I owe much to her, which is why when I saw Mel pay her respects and simply stand beside me, long after everyone else had gone, I knew we shared an understanding.
"Likewise."
"She'd be proud of you, you know. You might even make for a great councilor yourself one day."
My smile brightens. Her words mean more than she'll ever know. I open my mouth to speak when Elora turns the corner, looking... frazzled?
I had become quite fond of Mel's other assistant as well over time, admiring her poise and care towards Mel. And yet, all this time, I don't think I've quite seen her quite so... discomforted. Well, besides the time when Mel's mother came. She comes up to us hastily at the end of the hall, clearing her throat.
"Ladies, Mel, your mother requests your presence at the most opportune time."
I've come to learn that most opportune time for the war lord typically meant immediately regardless of what anyone's personal schedule was.
Mel sighs, suddenly looking tired beyond her years.
"What could she possibly want now?"
Elora grimaces sympathetically, "I do not know, but she was adamant that you see her."
I scoff.
"Whenever is she not adamant? It's not mandatory unless she explicitly says so. You must be hungry. Why not take a breather and then go?"
That brings a faint smile back to Mel's face.
"Trust me, if I thought it would change anything, I would."
My brows furrow, not liking how easily Mel gives in whenever her mother is involved. Just as I go to speak again, we hear the telltale sounds of heavy steel and powerful footsteps.
She breaks the corner in slow motions to me. Ever since I first saw her, I observed her presence as if it were caught outside the bounds of time. It preceded all surface levels of analysis that I've grown used to. As if her every step held an intention only she was privy to. Her men- no. Warriors follow in tow behind her, every ounce of their existence devoted to her. I briefly wonder what that must be like, but by then she's in front of us.
Mel is rather tall in her own right, not hesitating to wear heels to emphasize the fact. Despite that, her Mother absolutely looms over us all effortlessly. Elora straightens and subtly bows while shifting closer to Mel. I do nothing, not even acknowledging her presence. She notices.
"Mother."
"Daughter."
There's a silent standoff between the two, though while the council room held negotiations, this held only authority and power. The struggle was brief, to my disappointment.
"You wished to discuss something."
"I commanded it."
"Well, this isn't Noxus." I pipe in ahead of myself.
Her gaze snapped directly to me, though since she saw me, she had kept me in her peripheral. Studying me thoroughly with the grace of a seasoned war general. I can feel heat creep up my spine, trying to infiltrate my nerves and make me straighten. I refuse to comply, simply raising a brow in her direction.
"Moth- "
"Pardon," she cuts Mel off.
For her or me, the answer is obvious. I decide to mess with it anyway.
"No worries, customs can be tiresome to remember. In Piltover, as a foreign guest, if you'd like to make a formal command, you must go through the council. The next meeting is Thursday afternoon, if you will."
From my own peripheral, I can see Mel and Elora's hearts drop. Mine holds steady, well, steady as it can when a six-foot-something tank of a woman is now within two inches of your personal space. Forced to raise my chin to look at her directly, I keep a neutral expression as she stares down at me.
"In Noxian customs, we cut the tongues out of those who fail to show respect towards their superiors."
I blink.
"Hmph. Classy."
I hold her gaze, undergoing the same power struggle I witnessed just moments before, only I refuse to submit so easily. I last just long enough to be nearly grave before her lip twitches.
"Mel, I will see you in the room off the third hall in five. Meanwhile, I suggest you remind some of us present about the nuances of customs. A slight of tongue can turn into an unclassy affair should the right people be pushed to glance away."
She holds my gaze the whole time until she turns to walk back the way she came. I hold it as well in the same relaxed manner, only letting my expression show once her back is turned and the door is quickly reclosed.
"I hate giving it to him, but maybe Salo was right. Are you mad?!"
"No, but I feel particularly dismissed, and I'm not pleased by it."
"Dismissal is the least of your worries! That could have gone horrendously!
I tolerate the lectures from Mel and Elora even as Mel leaves to meet with that woman. But the moment never leaves my mind. For a split second, I swore I saw a flash of something other than the typical hardened cold of her brown eyes. From afar, I had thought them pitch black. Empty. I wander off, contemplating customs and shades of brown.
-
Meanwhile, Ambessa sits on the chaise, sipping a glass of wine with a wide grin on her face.
"Finally. Something alive within these walls."