18

Chapter Three

The Millenia old Yordle waited for her 'employer' to arrive, the 'young' man having hired her for her contacts, and she would make good on that bargain.

Then again, Babette thought, all Humans are young at my age.

Not that she looked it anymore.

While Human women liked to say 'You're only as young as you feel', for Yordles, given that were all Spirits, and functionally immortal, that was truth, and Babette had, several years ago, despite her attempts to use makeup like her girls did to spruce up her image, looked like twenty miles of bad road, the weight of ages, of taking Zaun from what it'd been like, after the collapse, and trying to help it survive, and thrive, for nearly a thousand years, only to fail, over and over again, apparent on her face, her body, and her soul.

She had seen the 'city' of 'Piltover', just the wealthiest of Zaunites with pretentions of morality, now that the smartest, and the worst, of them were all dead in the disaster of their own making, though how smart those madmen had been was up for a debate, formed. She had seen the 'Piltovans' deciding they were going to disentangle themselves from that mess and make their own metropolis, up and away from the fumes of their old city, deadly gasses that were a hundred times worse than they were before the Fall slowly choking the populace to death.

But they still wanted to profit from Zaun, and so one city had become two, then the newer had conquered its parent, at first ruling over it, then subsuming it so thoroughly that the people around her didn't even know what Zaun was.

Except Jayce had, as well as a few others that couldn't be any more different than that mysterious young man.

Having visited her, bearing a 'Stamp', the Piltovan Noble had offered her a deal, and she'd taken it, binding herself to him, the mark he'd left on her hand dripping with malignant magics that made her loyal to him, though, to her relief, did not make her his slave.

And in return?

Babette had gotten her life back.

She'd been healed of the magical burns that had marked her since the Fall, she'd had the years turned back on her appearance, but more than that she'd been restored to better shape than she ever had been before, and, most of all, the weight of everything she'd gone through had become bearable, the Stamp preventing her from falling to the madness she hadn't been aware she'd slowly been slipping into. Babette had, without realizing it, become ineffective, unable to lift a finger to help those she'd sacrificed so much to help, because… because what had been the point?

Now, though, she was back to doing her best to improve Zaun, and having a wealthy Patron in the form of House Kiramman's star apprenta, who was becoming a force himself, helped a great deal with that.

And, from the knock, one of her girls having waylaid the boy as he'd followed her, with an offer that he'd likely refuse, though if Jayce didn't maybe the mostly Human man would relax a little more, that was him now.

"Come in, Kid," she called, ever amused at his quirks.

He owned this building outright, but was still the picture of politeness, even after she'd invited him into her office, a good fit for the current House Kiramman, which was nothing like the bloody bastards they used to be, but the lie they'd told everyone had spread so far that it'd become truth, at least in the present.

"'Sup, Babette," he smiled as he entered, "what can I do for you today?"

"Stamp some of my girls," she replied, as she always did.

The Mark pushed her to spread it to others, and she could summon the Stamp to herself with just a thought, but in return for everything he'd given her, he had asked for three favors.

One had not been collected, yet.

One had been to pass along whatever she or her girls heard, that she honestly thought he'd want to hear.

And most importantly, one had been for her to not Stamp others without his express and willing approval, as well as keeping any indication that he was something more than what others thought him from spreading, the two close enough to count as one, which had been the only thing that had stayed her hand, and, despite the unnatural urge to make her girls Young, Healthy, and Whole again with a single gesture, a part of her was grateful for the restriction.

Shaking his head, the young man took the seat opposite of her desk, in what would normally be the subordinate position, but, while he'd learned more about those things from the Kiramman Heiress he spent so much time with, he was clearly secure in the knowledge he didn't need to stand on ceremony with her.

"None of them are worthy," Jayce stated, not unkindly, but as a matter of indisputable fact, as he always did.

And, while she did like her girls, none of them were the kind of… exceptional that Vander's kids were, the previous unofficial King of Zaun exceptional himself, and this place was all the worse for his murder.

That said, they'd had this conversation several dozen times, and she felt he was making a mistake, and so finally decided to push the issue, to help him, both because of the mark she bore, and because she just honestly liked the man. "How about you spend some time with them," she smiled, trying a new tactic. At his confusion, the Madam added, "From what I hear, you're living like a monk, Kid."

The eternally twenty-five-year-old man lifted an eyebrow, his frozen age not apparent, and it likely wouldn't be for another decade or two, but when it did… well, he'd probably be in a position that no one would dare comment on it. "I don't follow," her Patron finally stated.

"Well," Babette smiled, "You haven't been fooling around with the Kiramman girl. I'd've heard if you were. Vi wouldn't be able to hide it if you had been doin' something with her, and you haven't been seen with anyone else." If he were a more typical Pilty, she might've added Powder to that list, despite the girl only barely being a teenager, but she knew better.

"… and?" the noble questioned, which, again, if she didn't know him, she'd think he was playing coy. Instead, he really was so set in his worldview, so firm in his convictions, that the idea didn't connect, which is why she hadn't pressed it earlier.

But it'd been three years.

"Kid, you're really haven't had your pipes cleaned since you met me?" she questioned, still a little incredulous.

"…Pipes? I practice proper lab safet-"

And then he got it.

"Oh, ooooh, yeah," he shrugged. "I've been busy, and the Stamp stops any kinds of issue stemming from disuse."

The Yordle, who'd had a nice time getting her insides rearranged by an earnest young miner that morning, showing him the ropes as he stuffed her full of his, sent the fairly relaxed looking Inventor a skeptical look. "But still…" she trailed off.

"Trust me, it's not a problem," Jayce dismissed.

"Kid, I've seen those who said it wasn't," she disagreed, having a millennia of experience to his, at most, half a century. "They always think they've got it. Until they don't. And it can ruin them."

"Well I'm not them," he stated, a touch condescendingly, and with a little heat.

"They said that too," she pointed out, trying to help, even if it upset him. "Give them a try. You'll thank me. I'll find someone you like. What's the harm?"

He stared at her for a long moment, "You're not going to drop this, are you?"

"I'm loyal to you, Kid," the experienced Yordle pointed out. "And you need this."

The young man opposite of her sighed, getting the kind of look that meant he was going to get philosophical, which, while she often disagreed with him, always gave her a bit of understanding into what made the man she was loyal to tick.

Jayce considered his words, gesturing to the pot of tea she kept on her desk, one of Powder's inventions keeping it at the perfect temperature, and at her nod poured himself a cup, as he asked, "Do you really want to know?"

She nodded again, understanding the warning for what it was, and he sipped from the cup for several moments, before sighing and putting it down.

"What's more important, Babette," Jayce inquired, dead serious. "Having the wherewithal to pursue your positive impulses, what most call dreams, or having the wherewithal to deny yourself your negative ones?"

That… was an interesting question. "So you're denying yourself?" she pointed out, not having thought this was one of those self-punishment things, those also usually going badly.

"Answer my question first, please," the man requested, calm but intent.

Opening her mouth, she paused. If it had been the her of half a decade ago, the answer would be simple, that people needed to be able to follow their dreams. But… "All of one but none of the other is no way to live, Kid."

"I'm aware," he nodded, "but your answer?"

"The second, that's what you're going to say," she remarked, but he stayed silent, as she still hadn't answered, and was now waiting, placidly, as if he had all the time in the world, a behavior that she usually only saw in other spirits, who worked by different rules than mortal races. "The second one is."

He nodded, not commenting on the delay, "Following your dreams will get you on your way, but if you 'can't help yourself', well, what makes you different than a Beast?" Shaking his head, the dusky-skinned man sighed, "It's something I'm still trying to teach Violetta, to be honest. I, I used to be the other way. All denial, and no pursuit, which, yes, causes its own set of problems."

"You?" Babette questioned skeptically. Everyone had heard about the Academy kid wandering down looking for all kinds of parts. That wasn't the behavior of someone not following their dreams.

But he nodded, eyes distant, "Not here, not the old Jayce, but when I was… elsewhere. Before coming here was even a possibility."

Did he think he'd never make it back? she thought, Jayce tight-lipped about what, exactly, had happened on his 'trip', where he'd returned with the Stamp, and more.

"But, just as someone who has gotten used to acting on their dreams for long enough can do so without even thinking, do so effortlessly, denying oneself passing fancies can become similarly easy, though it helps that the temptation is not that great," he added, glancing over to her semi-revealing shirt and skirt, as she was in her 'business-wear'. "No offense."

"Some taken," she shot back, but with a smile to keep things friendly. "What'd it take for them to be more tempting?"

That got a laugh from the man. "Definitionally, they can't," he shrugged. "They're whores." He said it so matter of factly, Babbette barely felt insulted, having heard that phrase before, though with a lot more disdain in its delivery. But those people would've never hired her girls, like Jayce did, and before she could say anything he continued, "I don't hold their profession against them as people, it's an in-demand trade and they're willing to supply it, but our choices define us, Babette, and someone who sells something cheapens its value when it would otherwise be given. When it is not allegiance, not appreciation, but coin that buys it…"

"Just as I wouldn't trust my back to a mercenary, my head to a diplomat, and my neck to a gambler, I would never trust my heart to a prostitute. And I know me, I would, as they say, 'Catch Feelings', and I would be possessive," Jayce stated with certainty.

He glanced over, staring at her with that oddly piercing stare he sometimes showed her, as opposed to his normal relaxed glances, almost always doing so without meaning to. "I won't say I never considered it, but no. You work for me Babette, and that is a relationship I can maintain despite your proclivities," the man offered. "We are, I believe, friends, and as such you are your own person, able to pursue your own habits, your own pleasures, your own associations, and, given your age, and your Binding, I believe I can trust you when it matters on the terms you have agreed to abide by. But if we were thus involved, make no doubt, you would be Mine."

There was a growl to his voice that reverberated across the space, tingling down her spine, and setting up shop between her legs, in a way that made her shift position, needing to work to keep her voice steady. "And if I didn't want that? Wanted to keep doing what I want, with who I want?" she challenged.

And, in an instant, that borderline predatory look in his eyes was gone, and he shrugged once more, gaze mild. "Then we would not be involved. Simple as. That would be your decision, and I would understand it, just as you would need to understand my decision to not be entangled with you in that way. But, no, ignoring those like you, who have shown themselves in other ways, those involved in Sex Work, discounting slaves of course, almost always do so because it's easy, and anyone that chooses the easy way, one with serious costs they refuse to even countenance, over a more difficult, honorable way, is someone that I want nothing to do with, romantically."

That comment made Babette frown, an accusation she'd heard before. "For some girls, it's the only choice they have."

Jayce snorted, "Bullshit." The comment was dripping with familiar condescension, but before she could respond, he kept going, "In a society where women are literally not allowed to work, you might have a point, even in a world without Magic, and they do exist, where the strongest of women only could reliably beat out the weakest of men, discounting societal chains, there may be a bit of an argument to be had, but, for the work you do, compared with the pay you get, Prostitution is phenomenally well-rewarding. At least in the interim."

He waved below them, "It's the reason we had to remove several of your girls from their positions here, those who tried to slack off, tried skive off our stocks, or those who tried to make a little on the side from their old profession, even with me not minding if they did so off the clock and off-premises, because they could not handle an honest day's work. Those who spend large amounts of time waiting for clients will, of course, make less per hour comparatively, but that's it, they're waiting. Any one of your girls, Babette, if they tried hard, could have gotten a position in a factory, a restaurant, the mines, a shop, or more, as, even if they aren't physically as strong, which can be solved with some hardcore training, given that Violetta still kicks my ass every time we spar, a woman's mind is just as capable as a man's, but women have an easy option than almost all men do not, and, as is always the case, those with a natural talent often lean on it for an easier life instead of improving themselves."

"That's not what they're-" she started to argue, but he cut her off with a wave of his hand.

"And thus, negative impulses," Jayce stated. "Except for some extremely high-end Courtesans, of whom you do not employ, as they would not fit in either of our cities' culture, women do not become Prostitutes because that was their dream, but because of that little voice in the back of their heads that told them, 'Why are you working so hard, when you can make as much in a day as you would in an hour, and not even be as tired by the end of it?' The one that says, 'You don't really have a choice, do you?' The one that lets you lie to yourself, until you don't do anything other than take the easy way out, because you've convinced yourself it's your only possible option."

Jayce gave her a flat look, "And, if it's your only option, then it's not really your fault that you didn't try anything else, is it? That you happen to make your living doing something that, by design, feels good. And the problems that come with that job are surely just as bad, if not worse, than the problems from other professions, if you don't look at them too closely, so you can try and rationalize it as all being 'equal', even though the decision to do so was never that well-considered to start with. No, just as the Pilties can say they shouldn't ever help Zaunites, because you'd just waste it, you can lie to yourself as well, follow those negative impulses while trying to absolve yourself of all blame. The same negative impulses that, when Silco was starting to make his move, was starting to gather people to himself, meant you didn't say anything to Vander, because surely he can handle it, and, if he couldn't, well, 'It's the only choice you have.'"

She wanted to tell him that he'd made his point, that she got it already, but there was a hardness in the man's eyes, one she could, and had, forgot about that made her hold her tongue. The only consolation she had was that the man had an equal capacity for kindness as he could be unrelenting, as evidenced by the building she currently ran, staffed by the same women he was disparaging.

The man was silent for a moment, the steel in his gaze so sharp it felt like it could cut her, "I deal with my own, but trust me, Babette, if I gave into them myself, Violetta would've been sent off to Bilgewater to recover, though she likely never would, or Stamped without her consent rather than deal with her lashing out during her recovery, which even now is not fully complete. No, if I did what was easy, if I followed my base impulses? I would be the God-Emperor of Piltover and Zaun, with every person of significance Stamped as you are; and a not so significant percentage of both civilizations would be put to the sword."

There was a single tense moment, before Jayce sighed, slowly relaxing, if only a little. "But I care about choice, a great deal, which also means I acknowledge and respect the choices of others. If they were truly incapable of them, I would treat them as such, but neither you, nor they, truly want that. You just want to not have them deal with the negative portions of being prostitutes, while being perfectly fine with them reaping the positive ones."

He shook his head, "They chose that life, so that is their choice, and thus, while I will vet them for something like working here, I will hire them if they do their jobs, and furthermore I will respect their agency. I do not deny them the ability to make choices for themselves, like I would be doing if I made excuses, if I lied for them, even if, following those negative impulses, that comforting, rancid, falsehood, is what they'd prefer, but only when they want me to. I've played that game enough for several lifetimes," he mused, glancing her way. "Yet still, some part of you is surely wondering 'Why Vi, Why Caitlyn, but why not one of yours?'" he inquired, though she did not respond.

She'd be lying if she said the thought hadn't occurred to her. She wasn't asking him for anything large, and still felt like he was overreacting, but telling him that wouldn't help.

Reading her silence, Jayce stated, "It's because I can trust that, when the cards are down, those two will have my back, to do what is right. If Violetta or Cailyn ever say they 'don't have any other choice', it will be due to their morals, not their self-interest, that every other option they have, but would rather not do, has been eliminated until they 'don't have a choice'."

"And me?" she questioned, wondering if that's how her Patron saw her.

"Please, you're a Yordle," he dismissed with a roll of his eyes. "You know you had choices, as much as you dislike Bandle City, and you chose to do so here, without making any excuses about it, nor are you claiming that you had to be a sex-worker. That, I can respect, but that also means you view the act in a way that is anathema to my own beliefs surrounding sex. And, Babette, if I did just want someone to fuck, not caring about them in that way, I'm going to be perfectly honest here, I could find someone for my exclusive use I wouldn't have to worry about creating the kind of drama your girls inevitably would, even if through jealousy if nothing else."

Jayce started to take a sip, then amended, "Actually, you knew you had a choice to begin with. But who you surround yourself with influences who you become, and, even if you were careful, you've been surrounding yourself with that crowd for centuries. There's a reason that, when protected from degenerative mental effects, and healed up, you've acted differently, Babette. But, just as they don't wish to consider options, you clearly have not considered why that was, or else you would never have suggested that."

Pouring herself a cup of tea, adding milk and stirring it, the Madam didn't say anything for several minutes, and her Patron waited.

"Conversations with you are always interesting, if nothing else," she finally offered, and he nodded. "Didn't realize you felt that way."

"You never truly asked," he noted. "And I asked you if you really wanted to know. That said, I really do not mind if they serve those who, similarly, are seeking their own selfish base pleasures, caring not for their partner. Everyone involved are adults, and no one's being forced," he noted, giving her a waiting look, for her to object, but she did not. "You know me, Babette, or at least should by now, and I have a special enmity for liars, especially those who play the victim to play off the better natures of their victims. Your girls are not Bandits, they offer a service and charge fairly for it, but when they use the Bandit's Excuse I feel nothing but contempt for them. It's something you do not do, at least anymore, but your doing so on behalf of others lessens you as a person."

The extradimensional traveler smiled, a little ruefully, "But, like I said, I truly do not begrudge them their decisions, those who go into your carnal trade openly and honestly, as most who deny the service of whores for themselves secretly do. I'm in no position to, without being a hypocrite of the highest order, given my status as someone who deals in contracts involving souls," he added, glancing at her covered mark. "That said, just as most others don't mean it when they say 'I need to be in a relationship with someone, to care about them, to fuck them', when they are just trying to look virtuous when they make those pronouncements, I am not, and will follow my conviction, even if it would be more fun, at least in the short term, to fuck you into this desk until you can't move and are just a sopping wet, orgasmicly twitching, mess. So when you make your offer, and I say no, I'm fine, I mean no, I'm fine."

"Just trying to help," the Madam offered, aware that she was doing so more than a little defensively, and trying to get the image of what he so carelessly dropped into their conversation out of her head.

"And I understand that," he agreed, tone neutral. "But the point you stop offering an opinion and start forcing your opinion when declined because you believe must know better than me without a reason given is not help, Babette, it is arrogance, and this is not the first time you have done so. You have a soft spot for your girls, I understand that, but having a soft spot means you are definitionally overly kind. Understand that I am not, but that does not mean I hate them, as evidenced by the fact that I employ them, and move on."

And this is why I didn't think about bringing that up before, Babette chided herself. On the other hand, the fact that she had pressed him on that, when Jayce clearly didn't want to, served as another reassurance that she could, the Stamp on her gloved hand not having done more than it initially had, a worry that still popped up from time to time. "Well, what do you want to know, Kid?" she questioned.

"Any luck tracking down Silco?" he questioned in turn, not missing a beat.

She had to shake her head, the man who had killed the last leader of Zaun, or at least the Lanes that were the beating heart of this ragged, toxic city, a hard one to find. "Sorry, no. Seen that girl of his, Sevika, around, but he knows someone's looking. You been doing your own investigations?"

Jayce snorted, "Yeah, because I blend. No, I've been leaving that in your mostly capable hands. Anything else? You called me up for a reason, after all."

"There's some new faces around, more than traders and the like," the Yordle offered. "Some coming here, but most of them are seeing my girls."

The man nodded, frowning, and taking her words seriously. "Any defining traits? They like that mercenary company from last year?"

Babette shook her head, that group handled by passing the word up, and whatever offer their original employer had made them, likely Silco, the Kirammans had offered a better one, and they'd been off on that family's trade ships within the month, working as guards.

"Not that I can tell. Most are pretty poor, really, but they're here anyway," she told her patron. "But they're something to look out for. What I've also been hearing is that you've been having some trouble, Mr. Talis."

"Trouble how?" he questioned, unsure.

"Medarda troubles," she stated, watching his expression.

If the Kirammans helped build Piltover, the Medardas funded it, using their banks to give out loans that people could never repay, and sending out their 'Contract Enforcers' out to collect when they had nothing left to give, to be sent to the mines, before, after a couple slave rebellions, the Kirammans who owned the mines refused to employ the 'indentured workers' there any longer. The name of Piltover's military had been, over the centuries, shortened to 'Enforcers', and while almost all had forgotten, Babette had not. It had been a project of House Medarda that had 'built' the Sun Gates, and destroyed Zaun, but rather than being held to account, they'd escaped the rubble and came out on top.

Jayce blinked, "Wait, how have you heard about that? I have been, but I didn't think it'd reach your pointed ears. Has Mel…"

"Oh it's Mel," Babette cooed, happy to pounce on some kind of gossip as Jayce was no longer acting, well, Spiritual. "Should young Caitlyn be concerned?"

But rather than reacting how she thought he would, the man just looked… introspective, and a little sad. "Mel would've… been a good match for the man Jayce would have been," the inventor mused, speaking in the third person, as he sometimes did, when speaking of his 'pre-journey' self. "She's ambitious, but moral, and socially adept in a way that that Jayce could be but that would be a route to power he would never think to try. No, He would've preferred to have someone take that load off, to let him hyperfocus on Hextech, but that's not who I am. Not who I could ever be, really. But while I guess that assistant of hers could wish to 'blow off some steam' at one of your establishments, Mel herself doesn't seem the type."

That was… interesting. Another piece of the vast puzzle that was 'Jayce Talis' falling into place, but the structure as so complex, so strange, that it only underlined how much about him Babette didn't yet know. "The Medardas are far more than that Council member of theirs, Kid," she pointed out. "And they don't mind 'Sumpin' it.' They're not liking some of the things you've been doing."

"Really?" the man questioned. "But the requests… hmm," he mused, nodding slowly. "Curiouser and curiouser. She must just be the messenger. Good to know who I've been telling to go pound sand. Explains the lack of reaction, really."

"Ki- Jayce," she stressed. "These people are not the type you can ignore. They'll make for powerful enemies."

That got a smile out of him, though one that had more than a little teeth to it, as he looked at her, and spoke in Yordle, "&I'm Worse.&"

Babette stared at him for a long moment, because that smile DID things to her, then sighed, "&You sure you're not up for a tumble? I'm free.&"

Giving her a significant glance, suddenly once more seeming like the Old Monsters that she'd come across when she was young, the thing in the shape of man questioned, "&And would you be alright being MINE, and MINE alone?&"

Yes! said her first instinct, the same kind of first instinct that'd led her to being bound in the first place, but… but Jayce wasn't exactly wrong about needing to rein that shit in. "&Not… yet,&" Babette answered honestly.

Nodding, her Patron relaxed back into his chair. "Then you should know better than make that offer," he replied simply. "Anything else of note?"

"That's it," she told him. "But do be careful with the Medardas, Jayce. They don't own the Enforcers anymore, but they've never forgotten how to use force to get their way."

"Given that Mel's mother is a Noxian Warlord, I think I'll remember," he chuckled, as he stood, and Babette frowned, having not heard that bit, but it was about what she'd expect from that family. "Well, time for the weekend, which means a double helping of getting my ass kicked to try and get better at the age-old art of combat."

At that, the Yordle sighed. "Kid, you are aware that most people, normal people in your position, they would be taking it easy, right? They wouldn't be pushing themselves even harder."

Heading to the door, he shot her a cocky grin and a wink before he left.

"Please, Babette. Nothing about me is Normal. And trust me neither of us would have it any other way."

Chapter Four

Even two years later, training still sucked. It was easier, yes, and if I was just check-boxing, doing enough to keep myself in shape, it wouldn't've been that bad, but that wasn't how mana-saturation worked, so I needed to Saitama it, pushing myself that much harder every time, and while I didn't have the benefits of a Broken Limiter, my limits were still a lot more elastic then they ever would've been on a less energy-dense world.

I experimented with it, of course, using my Sweet Home's ability to simulate environments in order to make rooms that were visibly full of Mana, like the atmosphere in The Flowspace Violletta and I had stumbled across, and while that did help it also made me, for lack of a better term, magically radioactive afterwards. My Body Defense stopped any possible mutations, and the gains I received were noticeable, but I was very much playing with fire, and needed to find a middle-ground.

To that end, I tried to find a way to raise Mana Levels above standard without pinging my own 'Keeping your from getting sick or mutating' protections, protections my girls didn't have. It'd taken a few months, but I'd called upon what little alchemy I knew, combined with my knowledge of chemistry, metaphysics, and the 'we have Academy Archives at home' library my pocket dimension possessed, lacking any otherworldly knowledge for me to utilize that I didn't already know, to come up with a solution.

Magical Incense.

Not the hippy-dippy kind, but, by letting reagents soak in my, for lack of a better term, Mana-Chamber, they got borderline toxically infused with the energy, and, by mixing it with a few other compounds, it created bright blue rods, sheathed in wax so other people didn't get it on their hands, because, again, magically radioactive, that, when burned, pushed the ambient energy in the space much higher, though nowhere near dangerous levels.

If I was right, it made our only part-time training equivalent to much more strenuous efforts, though using it constantly pinged my Defenses, and when I'd tried to maximize gains, training in the fully saturated chamber, trusting my protections, I started to see things that weren't quite there: wisps of vapor, and odd lighting, the others could not. Thus, despite having both Mind and Soul Defense up and giving me immunity to all negative influences, I'd stopped. The way the Company worked, whatever I'd been doing wasn't a negative, but those same Defenses had allowed me to breathe oil, and I wasn't in a hurry to do that again any time soon.

So I settled on the path of extremes, but in moderation.

"Jayce!" Violetta called out, "you can do your nerd stuff later! Get the lead out! Piper's beating you!"

Blinking, broken from my reminiscing, I glanced over, and realized the blue-haired girl had indeed gotten ahead of me, as we ran laps around the Gymnasium we used, on loan from the Kiramman's, the thirteen year old turning around mid, stride to stick her tongue out, only to start to trip over her own feet, arms flailing, but I caught her, and, with a yank, pulled her up into the air, giving her enough time to spin around and land on her feet, as I poured on the speed, breathing hard, getting that extra bit of distance, the small girl yelling, "Hey!", as we both lapped Caitlyn.

"I still!" the heiress gasped, but continued onwards, "Don't see! Why I need! To run! I'm a marksman!"

In front of the Piltovan noble was Violetta, keeping pace with her, running backwards without tripping, who smirked, barely stressed. "Aw, does cupcake want a snack break?"

With a growl, Caitlyn redoubled her efforts, taking a swing at her the other girl, who slipped away, but laughed, "See, you got a bit more in ya!"

The two young women had a rivalry that only had intensified over the years, Caitlyn giving Vi just as much shit when we shifted to ranged work, but, knowing the two of them would eventually be friends, this was just… teething, in a way that wouldn't've happened if they'd met when they were older.

"Even as a sniper, this is needed!" I called out, as I had before. "Getting into position, repositioning, or pulling away when a CQC expert, like Violetta, gets close!"

"I know!" the heiress called back, breathing hard. "But it doesn't mean, I have to bloody like it!"

Finishing my set, I stumbled to a halt, Piper jumping up and slamming into me, taking me off my feet, putting me into a roll, my training kicking in, as I tossed her away, the girl landing on her feet, with a "Ta-d-wah!" as she hadn't bled off all of her momentum and hit the far wall, bouncing off and landing on the hardwood floors herself.

The older two girls ran by us, as I gave Caitlyn a thumbs up, the girl smiling, nodding back, and pouring on everything she had, surprising Vi, almost passing her before the white-haired girl had to turn around to keep pace, running alongside her with a call of, "Hey, you're almost as fast as my little sister!"

Not rising to the bait, or unable to, the dark-blue-haired girl finished her last lap, and fell onto her hands and knees, gasping like a fish out of water.

With a groan, I stood, muscles aching, the Mana-sticks adding a distinctly spicy taste to the air, Piper springing to her feet, and, walking over to Caitlyn, I offered her a hand, which she took. I pulled her up, as we headed off to the side, to get glasses of the 'recovery-punch' I'd had Faerie Feast direct me in preparing, the company Lure, meant to get potential captures literally addicted to my cooking, when turned down and directed, great for preparing all sorts of dishes, and at incorporating borderline medicinal effects as need be.

Vi, meanwhile, poured on the speed as she did her own laps, easily outpacing us were we still going, taking corners by running up the walls, in short arcs, showing off, absolutely, but also pushing herself as hard as she could go in the process, so, four rotations later, when, not even breathing hard, she slowed to casually join us, though there was a bit of a quiver to her step that belied her unhurried act, I smiled and handed her an ice-cold cup of punch.

"And that's how it's done!" the white-haired girl announced, after slamming back half the drink in one go.

"Not all of us can go gallivanting around the Fjords, Druvask," Caitlyn shot back, calling the girl by the name of the war-boars Freljordians both raised for their meat and as mounts, which, as far as insults went, might've actually been effective, if Vi had ever been to Freljord.

The heiress busting out that decently researched insult, and Violetta's subsequent confusion, had led to me quickly covering for her, and start introducing more 'native lessons' into both girls' curricula so they could know the culture they theoretically hailed from. That said, after being told what those were, and showing her a picture, the Zaunite had just laughed and agreed that she was an ill-tempered engine of brutal destruction! At least compared to the overly-sweet, rich layabout that was 'cupcake'.

Like I said, they would be friends but… it was really more of a Naruto/Sasuke situation, minus the favoritism, betrayal, and all-consuming goals… so really not like those two at all, but they were rivals, in the way that Kakashi probably wanted his students to be, instead of how he actually treated them.

Either way, if I let them, they'd keep going with the banter, so I clapped my hands, getting their attention, "Okay, Good Warm-up. Piper, can you get the training-bot up and running? Caitlyn, you're with me!"

"Sure thing, Jayce!" the smaller girl chirped, running over and starting to get the Hextech/Chemtech device working. Here in Piltover, there were no Chemtech hookups, but the tiny tinkerer had figured a way to get the Chemtech-only design from her old place to work on a Hextech-powered circulator. It did need to be cleaned out every week in a way that only I could really do safely, being immune to the substances poisonous effects, but she was working on a hookup to try and make it easier to 'cycle', though it would still be dependent on Zaun for its primary fuel, so there was no way to sell them, as most of Piltover wouldn't touch it if they knew what made it run, and in Zaun, well, why wouldn't you just hook it up normally.

But for our purposes it worked well.

My knowledge of electronics had let me hammer out a basic switchboard to run the thing without the back-end pipework that made her old training dummy function, and Vi, who'd loved to work on the old one she'd had down in Zaun, but could no longer use for fear of discovery, when we'd finished working on it, and presented it to her, had needed to excuse herself for a few minutes, but in a good way, as she had thanked us for it afterwards.

Grabbing our training armaments, having graduated to blunt steel weaponry a few months ago from their rubber-coated iron-cored alternatives, the Kiramman heiress squared up against me on the padded mat, her dagger against my short-sword. I had an absolute range advantage over her, both in physical reach and weapon length, but, when she'd gone for a rapier, I'd asked her what her mother would allow her to take with her everywhere, as that was the point of this training, and, the time we'd met for training after that, she'd gone for the dagger instead.

Centering myself, I went on the attack, starting with a probing thrust, which the girl deflected, backing away, waiting for me to come in with a slash before darting in with a stab of her own, smirking, only to be stopped by my free hand, which knocked her blade down and away from me, a half-shove pushing her back just far enough for my blunted blade to come down, slowing at the last moment to rest on her shoulder.

"You're still over-focusing," I noted, gently, as I had dozens of times before. "Knifework is a dance, and the concentration that helps with rifle-work hurts you here."

Resetting, the heiress pouted, "I still don't see what's wrong with using one of the pistols you made for me, Jayce."

"The reason hasn't changed. Even with perfect aim, you are limited to eight kills before you've just got an oddly-shaped rock in your hands," I rebuked her. "Blades don't need reloading, and a canny enemy would try and make you waste your shots first."

This time, she went on the offensive, closing quickly, keeping her blade neutral, the girl favoring 'decisive' blows, and, wanting to see where she went with this, I went with the good ol' thug standby of 'all out overhead chop', the girl taking advantage, bringing her weapon up to deflect it, my other arm coming up to punish the motion, before she sidestepped, making her move, the heiress' own arm coming up, pressing my countering cross above her head, and getting in close, poking the edge of her round-tipped 'blade' into my armpit.

"Not bad," I smiled, Caitlyn standing a little straighter as we separated, a cacophony of punches sounding from the other side of the gymnasium as Vi got started, laying into the spar-bot, which was working at one of its higher settings.

"Not that good," the heiress noted, her frown dropping, then sending me an annoyed look as I laughed.

"Cat, I'm not that good. That's why we train," I reminded her. "Also, if I let you use a pistol in Close Quarters Combat, Violetta would demand I just let her throw things for her ranged component."

Taking a moment to flip her royal blue hair, the girl I was training with cocked her head, stating imperiously, "Well, in that case, it's not that bad."

"I thought you'd say that," I smiled, lunging forward in a stab, which she brought her blade up to deflect, having learned not to try and pit her strength against mine, or against Vi, or really against Piper either as they were, surprisingly, about even in force generation, despite one blue-haired girl being thirteen, and the other nineteen.

We continued to trade blows, Caitlyn's style having been slowly forming, all of us having to, for better or worse, teach ourselves. While we could probably find a knife-master for Caitlyn to learn from, they were all Zaunites, and, to be frank, I didn't trust them around the girl, though I had paid for a few lessons myself.

My Martial Talent let me rubber-band my own skill to rapidly approach anyone I fought, who taught me, or who I saw fighting, which had let me copy Vi's notes, though, as I'd started to approach her level, those gains had dropped off, the girl ever-improving, which temporarily widened the gap between us, but never let me surpass her. Similarly, working with those knife-masters, all of them vetted by Babette, and with an emergency health potion hidden away just in-case, had given me the same crash-course that I was applying in my teaching of Caitlyn, but as I didn't understand the lessons my soul-add-on had gift-wrapped for me, I had to consider everything I taught her, lest I also teach her my unwitting 'teachers' bad habits as well.

My own style, of pistol and shortsword, had developed, but was, as far as I could tell, unique here, which meant I could crib notes on using a short-sword, and using a pistol, from others, but not both at the same time. Piper had decided to use my style, after a fashion, her take on it more agile, and less strong, my motions shorter, and more deliberate, while the blue-haired Zaunite practically bounced around the battlefield, swirling about with stabs, kicks, punches, and shots in constantly shifting measures, only about half of them actually hitting anything.

Firing with my off-hand had taken a bit to get used to, but, once Piper and I had the technique down, it offered seamless transition between melee and ranged options, while both older women needed a moment to switch, Caitlyn to flip her rifle up from her holster across her back, and Vi to pull the shotgun from her lower-back-holster, like a deadly-reverse fanny pack. Also, while I didn't get really into Gun Katas, the basics had been covered in Basic, and I'd tried to adapt them further, though it was entirely experimentation, planning, and stress-testing on my end.

Violetta, meanwhile, should've had the easiest time of it, but was, in reality, having the worst.

The girl was a pure pugilist, though she'd taken to using the gauntlets I'd made for her like a duck to water, except, well, not the water around here, as it was both toxic and full of sea monsters, even if some of them were nice to me, but either way she'd really liked them, and as well as the fact that they let her grab enemy blades without worry while striking with extreme amounts of force.

And while you'd think you'd find someone that could train her, you'd be right… but they were all dicks.

Like, Violetta herself could be… abrasive, but we'd gone through over forty-seven different trainers and they all came into two categories, that, at most, saw me copying a bit of their skills before thanking them for their time, paying them, and never using them again.

The first were the Arrogant, in that they all thought they were hot-shit, but they all were severely lacking in some way, be it in speed, precision, power, or technique, the last of which could mean they were good at striking, but not grappling, or good at both but trying to get them to kick was a pain in the ass, as they all leaned heavily into their own innate strengths, but were also weak in ways they couldn't really address, and, when, not if, Vi kicked their fucking asses, they got nasty about it.

After the fourth one who came back and tried to 'settle the score' afterwards, and who summarily got dumped into my Sweet Home's ocean, the friendly sea-life it was stocked with consuming the corpse, Vi had agreed not to take them down more than a single peg, but it was still an issue, as, past a couple tricks here and there, they didn't really help.

The second type were the Traditional, and were, arguably, worse than the Arrogant. These Piltovan Pugilists were, indeed, very, very skilled… in their specific subset of combat. Most were heavily muscled men and women in button-down shirts, who, when restricted to the City of Progress' version of 'Queensberry Rules', could defeat Vi, hands down, but half of that was the fact that, under those terms, half of what she did was disqualifying.

That also meant the idea of fighting against a blade, let alone a pistol was nigh unthinkable to them, as, clearly, if any were brought out, 'The referee would call the match', and most could not wrap their heads around being in a situation where there was no referee. Worse, the ones that could were usually certain that, were they to find themselves in such a situation, the strength of their fighting would be enough to carry the day, though a few admitted they'd be fucked, in so many words.

I'd gotten one of the 'All I need is my hands' people to humor me, and, while he had socked me good in the process, I would've gutted him, my unloaded pistol in a position to blow his head off before he'd even made contact, which he hadn't understood, but Violetta, Caitlyn, and Piper all had, which the heiress had needed to see before she understood why we were dismissing them all.

A few others we had gotten had been practitioners of other styles, some Ionian, some Noxian, though, given the two were looking like they might soon be at war, not at the same time, but they'd had the exact same problem, that being they refused to help Vi build her own style, and demanded she adopt theirs, either forgoing her gloves entirely as they were 'weapons' and thus 'not needed', or by taking up a more conventional weapon, respectively.

And both sets of trainers were just… confused by the suggestion of incorporation of guns into their styles.

So, it was up to Vi herself, with a bit of assistance from me, and the other two as training partners, to figure out her own style. I had influenced its development, past the very-punch-dependent fighting she initially favored, which she learned from her father, working in more than the occasional grab and knee into full kicks, twists, and so on, all in furtherance of beating the crap out of someone, as Vi was Vi. Talking didn't help, because Vi was Vi, but having used those kinds of moves against her often enough, and explaining why afterwards, despite my being weaker, and slower, and less skilled than her, I still was able to get serious hits in, I'd brought her around.

Mind you, lacking other opponents, we would eventually hyper-specialize in fighting each other, but, with three different styles, as I bounced between helping the girls and skimming from the occasional new trainer, hopefully that would reduce the issues, that, well, the Traditionalists all suffered from.

Best would be live-fire exercises, and, while I wouldn't be surprised if Vi had been getting into fights on the side, Piper and I hadn't seen combat for over a year, and Caitlyn hadn't, well, ever.

Back and forth Caitlyn and I went in our spar, the girl, despite her attempts, not in the same league as me when it came to hand-to-hand, though she also far outstripped any of us at range, so, other than some mild annoyance, she took it with grace, having realized, after about a year, that while I was 'taking it easy on her', unlike Vi, I was actually only dropping myself to just beyond her, instead of blasting through her guard and taking her down in seconds, to get the heiress to push herself that much further.

Hearing the spar-bot get reset, I glanced over, seeing that Vi was done, and, in that moment of distraction, Cat struck, getting damn close to a neck-shot, as I reflexively moved, sliding past it, my free hand grabbing and twisting, forcing a knee into her gut which she tried to roll with, negating some of the damage, as I rolled with her, spinning us both about, further wrenching her about, until I had her held tight against me, my practice-blade's blunt edge resting against her throat.

For a moment, she struggled, but all that meant was that the woman squirmed against me, and my grip on her subconsciously tightened.

"Enough grabass, you two! I want a turn!" Violetta called, and we both froze, before I quickly let go of the heiress, who sprang away, flushing in embarrassment. Striding up to us, our resident pugilist smirked, "Oi, cupcake, you're looking a little tired out. Maybe you should take a break?"

Bristling, the sniper stood straight, fixing her shirt, "I'll have you know I could do this all day!"

"Oh, then you're up on the bot!" the white-haired girl challenged.

"I am," the Piltovan agreed, striding over towards the mechanical menace, only halfway there when she realized she'd just been tricked, and then continuing forward anyways.

Piper frowned, "Hey, I was next!"

"Let her try as is," her sister directed, before squaring up on me, and, before I could say anything, launched a punch my way, the 'practice' covering on her gauntlets turning the attacks from deadly to merely bruising, but, having dealt with her, I batted the attack away, sliding my blade along her arm, as if I could hit a non-armored section it'd still be a 'hit', but she deflected my sword, going on the offensive again.

This time I was the one on the defensive, barely able to hold her off, hearing Caitlyn's "Gah!" As she was knocked on her ass, and I took a padded fist to chest for my distraction. Re-focusing on my foe, I asked, "It's set for Piper's skill level, isn't it?"

"Maybe," Vi shrugged, going on another offensive, trying to get into my weapon-range, but, used to this, I just turned my ranged-weapon into a butt-strike tool, trading a few blows, but both of us moving to rob the other of the power behind each other's respective blows. "Not getting close with me?" she teased. "Am I not good enough?"

"Cat's distracted enou-oof," I started to respond, turning at the last moment to shift a liver-shot from a gut-blow, staggering backwards, but my 'wild' sword swing wasn't, and I caught Vi right outside of her gauntlet, though she twisted and tossed herself aside before, if my weapon had been a real blade, it could've done more than cut a thin line into her flesh.

Recentering myself, I tried again, "Cat's distracted enough as is. Besides, I get close and you'll destroy me."

"Well, yeah," Vi shot back, grinning. "That's why I want you to try!"

Rolling my eyes, I shrugged, and moved to charge her, swinging for her, but, as she moved to block the blow, I let go of my blade and tackled the girl, using my mass to take her off her feet, and we went down in a tumble of limbs. While I almost got a hold on her, the white-haired woman's ground game relatively shit, unfortunately she was great at her striking skills, and stronger than I was, so while she didn't get in under my guard, I still caught half a dozen punches before I got us into a neutral hold, both of us trapped against the other.

"Happy?" I asked, gritting my teeth, having to struggle against her superior strength. While Piper and Caitlyn were both as strong as your average man, and I had the strength of the mountains of muscle that you occasionally saw lumbering about, Vi had started to creep into the supernatural spectrum, especially for her size, and it was all I could do to keep her locked down.

"What're you tw-" Caitlyn started to say, only to be cut off, getting socked in the face by the bot's oversized glove.

Vi grinned, announcing, "Now I am!" before going on the offensive, punching me, even limited as she was, with punishingly strong tiny little strikes. They thankfully weren't one-inch punches, but they still fucking hurt, while I couldn't do much in return, until I threw her away, rolling up to my feet, Violetta doing the same, and going for a jumping punch, as I grinned, twisted, grabbed her blow, and tossed her a dozen feet away, and upside down, though she recovered, moving to hit the ground in a roll and springing to her feet.

"What have I said about doing that?" I sighed.

"Do it faster?" she replied, and I couldn't help but laugh, as she charged me once more.

Several exchanges later, we called it, as Caitlyn backed away from the Spar-Bot, Piper taking over.

"Your ground game's still shit," I remarked to the white-haired girl, working sore arms.

"Then I guess I'll just need more hands-on training," she teased, glancing towards the heiress as she approached.

Knowing the pugilist was just giving me a hard time, having zero interest in me that way, I shrugged, "Maybe I will."

Caitlyn spoke up, "I do believe I could use some more training in that regard as well, Jayce."

"Sure," I nodded, glancing over. "Hey, Piper! How's your ground-fighting?"

"Could be better!" the small girl called back, twirling under the spar-bot's glove and coming around with a spinning kick into the 'liver-plate' which made it stagger momentarily, dropping its metallic guard.

Nodding, I put together a plan. "Okay, Cat, Vi, take five," I ordered, having accidentally used Vi's real name in front of Caitlyn back when the two had first met, so, to cover for it, I'd shortened Caitlyn's as well, which she hadn't minded. "Then, you two, together, and I'll oversee it," I directed. "Loser spars Piper."

The blue-haired sniper frowned, "Oh, I thought that, well, you could give me that instruction."

"I will be," I nodded. "It's easier to see what's happening from outside the spar."

"What's wrong," Violetta taunted. "Scared I'll beat you? Again?"

"As if," the heiress shot back, "And, Jayce, we're all set for heading to my family's estate tomorrow for, as you call it, 'range time'?"

"That's the plan," I smiled, glad she'd been so accommodating for everyone's training.

"Then I'll show you how it's done, here and there," the blue-haired woman noted, giving the secret Zaunite a disdainful look, striding stiffly over to the mat.

With a snort, Violetta stalked after her, "You'll show me how to lose, more like."

Rolling my eyes at the friendly byplay, I followed them both, glad they were getting along.

At the end of our day's training, all of us sore by the end of it, when Caitlyn's coach arrived for her, the servant also had a message.

For me.

"What is it, Jayce?" the heiress questioned, curious.

Looking over the missive, I frowned. "It's from Councilor Medarda. Apparently, Mel wants to talk."