21

Chapter Nine

The next message I received from 'Councilor Medarda' was not yet another request for special privileges.

No, it was a demand.

My presence was 'requested' in my own office, and, when I laughed, and told the messenger I'd drop by Mel's office that afternoon, I received another message, an hour later, demanding that I head to my office directly or 'suffer the consequences'.

Given the actual Medarda Councilor, whose office was much closer than mine in the Hexgate building to my Academy Lab, had already received my message and penned me one asking me to come down in a few minutes so she could 'deal with this', I'd decided to head over to the Hexgate. Piper stayed behind with Victor, much to her disappointment, and, shrugging on my jacket, I'd gestured for the Medarda courier to go, who did not leave, but led me to my office, which… rude.

"-pletely overstepped my position with this stunt!" I heard Mel exclaim from my office's mostly closed door, the Medarda messenger hesitating, so I patted the young man on the back as I walked past him, opening what should have been the locked door, and into the argument.

"It is you who are overstepping, 'Councilor', and-" a middle-aged man, on the swarthier side of Caucasian, and wearing a red and gold outfit bearing the shielded compass of Clan Medarda, turned to look at me. "Oh. Good. You've finally arrived, Boy."

Ooooh, this isn't gonna go the way you want, I thought, as I deliberately turned towards the dark-skinned woman who looked at me sourly, likely having hoped to have this entire thing sorted by now.

"Mel!" I greeted her warmly. "I got the strangest letters from you, so I decided to come investigate, and who let you into my office?"

"That was me, Nozoral Medarda, and you would do well to treat me with the respect I deserve!" the interloper glowered, upset at being ignored.

God this man has skin the strength of tissue paper.

He continued, "And Medarda funds created this building, so of course we may go where we please!"

I paused, smile fixed, as there was just… sooo much wrong with that statement.

"Well, Mr. Medarda," I stated, walking around them and sitting at my desk, taking a moment to pop open a drawer, and… yep, someone had unlocked it and rifled through my papers, not even bothering to put them away properly. Time to invest in some stronger security measures. Waving to the chairs across the way, I asked, "Who are you, as we have never met, and I, of course, wish to make sure I do give you proper respect? Mel's a Councilor of our fine city, but you are…?"

At Mel's sharp glance my way, I realized that I probably let a bit too much of my annoyance into my tone, as this 'Nozoral' remained standing, likely to better look down his nose at me, and stated, "I'm someone with actual power, not some half-breed."

I blinked, as, for all that I was aware, Racism wasn't really a… thing here, as I echoed, "Half-breed?"

"Pfft, how ignorant you are, Boy," the man sneered. "Do you know who her mother is?"

"Ambessa Medarda, Noxian Warlord… Warlady? Person of high statehood by means of martial competency, as they do over there," I supplied, glancing the Councilor's way, as she cast a wary look towardst me in return, and I realized she might've thought her parentage was a secret. "It appears the apple has fallen very far from the tree," I offered, trying to compliment her, which just made the woman look confused, and mildly offended, then instantly surprised at her own offense, before her expression smoothed out into an unreadable poker face, the woman good but nowhere near Mrs. Kiramman's level.

"Exactly!" the Medarda male stated, seemingly ignorant of the byplay. "She's not of proper stock like you or I!"

Ah, so not race-racist, but national-racist. Fair enough.

"Then why not deal with me directly, as I assume the missives I have been receiving have been from you. Why go through her office?" I questioned, honestly confused.

Looking to him for answers actually calmed the intruder down, and soothed his ego, as the asshole smugly stated, "Ah, but it came from the Medarda Council seat, and I am a Medarda. The girl is merely the… speaker on our behalf."

Offended, Mel grit out, "I am much more than a 'speaker', Nozoral, I am-"

"Please, the adults are talking," the older Medarda stated condescendingly. "There's no need for you to be here. You may leave," he waved towards the door.

The Councilor's nostrils flared in anger, but before she could continue, as I did want to find out what the actual fuck, I lifted a finger, "Ah, actually, given previous confusions, perhaps she should stay, just so we're all on the same page, as I was under the impression that your letters were coming from her. Given that they bore the seal she uses, came on the paper she uses, and so on."

Considering that, the Medarda Noble admitted, "I suppose, as long as she remains quiet. It explains the foolishly rude tone of some of your responses, at least."

Mel looked pissed, but, as the man imperiously ran a hand over his over-coiffed hair, which looked as if it had started to thin, I winked at her, which put her off long enough for the man to continue.

"You've done quite well here, Talis, but you seem to have forgotten your place in things," the older Clan-member drawled, waving in Mel's general direction as he added, "though you aren't the only one. No, the Medardas own this city, and to treat us like the, the common rabble? Unthinkable."

"Ah," I replied. "I was under the impression that the Kirammans owned more property than anyone else in Piltover. Was I informed incorrectly?"

With a sneer, Nozoral commented, "Those renters? Please, those scattered 'landlords' may think they are important, but we enforce the contracts they rely on. Or don't."

Lifting an eyebrow, subtly, looking to Mel for confirmation, the woman sighed, shaking her head no, as I slowly stated, "Well, alright, but Clan Medarda is already receiving preferential treatment, and if I'm going to pay back the loans I took from you in order to build, the Hexgates, I need to make a profit, hence why I have ameliorated some of your more extreme… requests. We're making maintenance payments on the debt, but-"

"Oh, don't bother with those," the man interrupted.

"I… what?" I questioned, hoping that he wouldn't be that stupid.

However, my hopes were in vain.

Nozoral, with a dismissive wave, stated, "Those don't matter. Just continue to dutifully serve Clan Medarda's interests, and you will have no need to worry about such small things like that."

And, the second I don't, or even balk at one of your increasingly idiotic and asinine requests, and not only will you call in your debt, you'll call in all of the interest it has accrued as well.

From the glance I cast towards the Councilor, she was as taken aback by the sheer stupidity of the man as I was, perhaps more, akin to someone expecting a martial duel with another practitioner of your art, only for them to charge at you, full of openings, screaming about their victory.

"Yes, with the money you save, I'm sure that giving us our due won't be an issue," the Medarda blue-blood smiled.

I stared at the idiotic main. "I… are you aware that I am an apprenta of House Kiramman? That I am good friends with Councilor Kiramman's daughter, and regularly meet with the Kiramman Matriarch?"

The man's blank stare, partly bored, partly annoyed, screamed 'Yes? And?', as he clearly waited for me to get to the point.

Sighing, I dropped my hand below my desk, and Mel stiffened, but I was just hitting the lever I built into my chair, allowing it to spin as I turned to face partially away from the man, glancing out the floor to nearly ceiling windows I'd installed in it. One of the panels secretly held a latch that could be flipped from either side, allowing it to swing out, if I ever needed to leave in a hurry, or arrive similarly, using my hoverboard, which would likely be attention getting, but less so then if I had to shatter my own window to pass through it.

"Also, Caitlyn, at her mother's insistence, has been giving me an education in Piltovan high society history and functionality, the things that, spending my time in a lab in the Academy, I've missed," I mused, trying to emphasize my connection to the family as I watched them from the corner of my eye, which got me a measuring look from the Councilor, but mere boredom from the intruder. "For instance, while House Kiramman's residential purchases were made near centers of commerce, industry, and population, to pre-emptively secure in-demand real estate, continuing this trend throughout Piltover's history, House Medarda chose to base themselves quite far away from the metropolitan center of our city."

"Is there a point to this?" Nozoral drawled.

"There is," I stated, looking outward, as, while not the center of the view by any stretch of the imagination, his clan's compound could be easily seen. "They secured the sizeable placement of land quite easily, and, other than a few fortified locations, such as the Sun Gates, their banks, or the original Enforcer barracks, they kept to themselves, creating their own little miniature city-state, separate from Piltover. Ironically, though Caitlyn didn't realize it, it seems that your family attempted to do to Piltover what Piltover did to Zaun."

Glancing backwards, I could tell neither of them had any idea what I was referring to, so I shrugged, and continued, "Regardless-"

"I didn't come here for a lesson, Boy," Nozoral interrupted.

"No, you came to here to give me orders, but, well, I'm a member of the Academy, and that's how we do things," I replied indulgently, my supernatural ability leaking into my tone in my anger. "Regardless, that has clearly isolated you, putting you out of touch with Piltover as a whole. Which is why you are going to be so confused, and offended, when I tell you no, I will not do as you demand."

The older man glared at me, and stated through clenched teeth, "Making an enemy of me could be quite dangerous."

"Oh, what a coincidence!" I smiled, baring my own in turn. "Same!"

"The Medardas rule this city, Boy!" Nozoral declared hotly.

Mel looked at the man in dismayed surprise, as I'm sure they said such things to each other in their compound, but to do so publicly?

"No. They don't," I informed him placidly. "They are one of seven ruling families. Five point four, given Bolbok's the speaker of a conglomerate, and Heimerdinger is Heimerdinger. And you no more rule Piltover than the Kirammans, my sworn patrons, do."

Pulling himself up to his… not terribly impressive height, the Clanner stated "Do you know what happens to those who cross the Medardas, Boy?"

"No, but I'm sure you'll tell me?" I smiled.

"They do not live for long!" he yelled. "Or those that do, wish they hadn't!"

Mel couldn't hold back, and stepped forward, "That's enough, Nozoral. I am the one who speaks for the Medardas, not you, and I will not have you threatening a Medarda asset who has been more than reasonable considering your outlandish demands. And to threaten him like a, like a common thug? Have you no shame?"

"Yes, yes, you're so important," sneered the man, before he looked my way. "Wish to reconsider your position, boy? For a twenty thousand gold, I may overlook your impertinence."

This was so beyond the pale for what Caitlyn and Mrs. Kiramman had prepared me for, I fell back on my old training.

And laughed.

Deep and long, I had to wipe away a tear, as the man looked mortally offended, yet nothing short of complete capitulation would work with someone like this, and I already served enough masters already. "I'm sorry, you threaten my life, and now you seek to rob me? You asked me if I knew who you were, Nozoral of Clan Medarda, but you went out of your way to hide who you were, so, quite frankly, I don't care. If you wished to discuss things, like Councilor Medarda does, I would be amenable, but if you wish to do things in the old ways…"

I looked back towards the distant Medarda compound. "In that case, it's so considerate of you to have made sure to place yourself in such a manner as to minimize civilian casualties."

"Jayce!" Mel gasped, and I cast a curious gaze her way.

"Ms. Medarda, I would prefer to do things your way, but, as this man claims that you have no authority, I am merely stating that such a confrontation would not end favorably for him," I informed her. "I am a student of history, in addition to science, and, historically speaking, if one gives into threats, all that ensures is that more threats will be used."

Turning to stare at the absolutely incensed man, I smiled broadly. "After all, there's a reason that the Kirammans are all proficient sharpshooters. Now, would you like to deal with me, as I am, with the backing of a Great House equal to your own, or would you like to waste my fucking time some more?"

This time it was Nozoral who took several seconds to respond, before finally declaring, levelling an accusatory finger in my direction, "You've made an enemy today, boy!"

"You demand I do whatever you want, or else. You were already my enemy, Nozoral Medarda," I informed him. "Today you just decided to come out of hiding. Now, take this as the loss it is, and leave me alone."

"This won't end here!" the idiot announced, determined to get the last word, and stormed out.

There was a moment of silence, before Mel stated, "Mr. Talis, that was… not well done."

"Indeed," I agreed, knowing what she meant me, but turned her statement around, "Were someone to inform my patron that she was 'overstepping', had no power in the city she co-rules, and should sit down and be quiet, she either would have torn strips off of them, or made sure to ruin them for attempting to attack her position in society. You informed me you were going to take care of it, only for me to find the person responsible had openly broken into my office. Tell me, because I must be missing something, but what kind of message would it send if I demanded your presence, and, upon arriving, you found that I had not only broken into your office, but," I re-opened a drawer and lifted some files, up, placing them on the table, "had clearly rifled through your private belongings?"

"I would-" the dark-skinned woman started to reply, then cut herself off. "I'm sorry, he what?"

I gestured for her to come over, and, after a moment's hesitation, she did so. I laid the files out, seeing no reason not to inform her that, "I divide my documentation by category, alphabetically. However, I don't label them as such, so when Nozoral went to put things away, he did so by a system that likely made sense to him, grouping together Hexgate material expenses together with Hexgate governmental payments, when they should be in Building and Taxes, with Personnel costs," I reached down and pulled out a different folder, "before Taxes, and this folder full of Records of ships and their cargo manifests," I pulled out another, "Also coming after, when, it should have been filed before Taxes, yet here it is. Mind you these are all just copies, and I'll absolutely be having someone go through this to see if he's pulled a key file or three."

It was the standardized system of my sub^nth-department of The Company, but one which, on something as small as the Hexgate, would have been unnecessarily clunky, as it didn't really start to shine until one had access to computerized systems dealing with a nation's worth of records.

But it confused the fuck out of the locals, which, itself, was kind of the point.

"Also, he put a few in backwards," I noted, pulling out more folders, and just sighing, as I apparently didn't need the fancy system. "So, given that we both know that, despite his clearly committing a crime, due to his position, the Enforcers will do nothing, what are you going to do to handle this, Councilor Medarda? Because I really don't want to be the one who handles this. I am both not a member of a great house, and will not be listened to by the others because of that, not that Nozoral seems to care about anyone other than the Medardas."

Something I said made the woman frown, Mel standing up straight and stating, imperiously, "I am a Councilor, Mr. Talis, and as such am not answerable to you."

Ah, so you found your spine after it was no longer helpful, I couldn't help but think, instead sighing, knowing not to try to turn this into a pissing match, because, while I could absolutely win, all of Piltover would be in the splash zone.

"Ah, yes, so when should I expect to receive confirmation of the forgiveness or repayment of the Medarda debt?" I inquired instead. At her confused look, I prompted, "You stated if you could not handle this, you would negate the debt yourself. Thus I am asking what you are going to do to handle this, so I do not accidentally get in your way. And, if not, then when I can expect to be freed of the connection that your fellow clansman seeks to turn into a collared leash."

The woman did not answer, possibly trying to figure out the answer herself, and, if I gave her time, she'd likely respond, probably not in a way that I liked, so, having established that something needed to be done and that she was the one that needed to do it, it was time to shift topics, so I turned away, looked out over the city, and sighed, commenting, "You know, I didn't need to stay."

"I, what?" the woman questioned, as off-balance by the seeming non-sequitur as I wanted her to be.

"Back when my apartment exploded. Clan Kiramman's apartment that I was using at the time," I amended. "I'd done all the research I really needed. Viktor helped, and has been invaluable since then, but I very much could have done as Heimerdinger asked, not mentioned my studies, and taken the pseudo-exile that would've likely been suggested. And then, with the exception of Freljord, I could've written my own ticket." I glanced back her way, "But I didn't."

"You would… leave?" the diplomat inquired. "But, what about your family?"

"I'm a Branch House member of a Minor Clan," I smiled. "While it does give me some privileges, to those such as Nozoral, I might as well be an Undercity urchin. If I established myself somewhere else, and sent back funds, they'd understand, and even possibly appreciate me. I had everything I needed to get started. Bilgewater? While it wouldn't be so great as this building," I waved around us, "the Hexgate I could build there it would be serviceable, and a Hextech ship wouldn't be beyond the realm of possibly."

Interested, seemingly despite herself, Mel pressed, "And Shurima? Damacia? Noxus?"

"Well, Shurima is where I source the Hexcrystals, so that'd shorten the logistics, and, while it would take more work, I'd also have the opportunity to try and build a Hextech city," I mused. "Damacia would be an even easier sell than Piltover had been, as they despise Mages, so giving them the power denied to them…" I shrugged. "And Noxus…" I glanced her way. "It is much easier to destroy than it is to create, and, while I would like to avoid such a scenario, there would be a market for such things. But I didn't. I stayed."

"Because you believe in the purpose of Piltover," the Councilor stated, echoing my earlier words.

"Because the logistical chain is easiest here, and finding people who can follow directions and produce high quality standardized products is simpler," I stated instead, counting off on one finger.

The second was, "Because I owed House Kiramman a debt for supporting me and I wished to repay that debt."

And then the third. "And because, yes, I believe in the purpose of Piltover, the City of Progress, and wish to contribute to its greatness. As I believe the Councilors do. As House Kiramman does. As I thought that House Medarda did. Piltover is a place where if one works hard, they can succeed. A place of laws, of fairness, and of peace. A place where, yes, some Houses are above others, but where if one is smart enough, dedicated enough, and one follows our ways, then they can rise and be rewarded for their work."

With a gesture towards the door, I finished, "But, 'Do what I want or I'll kill you?' Why, that's almost Noxian in its approach, and there's many reasons I am here, and not there. So, Councilor Medarda, I am asking you, as a person under the protection of House Kiramman, if you are going to seek to solve this problem within your own clan, or if I should, as is expected of me, go to Mrs. Kiramman and ask for her assistance, turning this into an inter-House conflict? Because I would really rather the problem went away and I could go back to inventing things and making Piltover gobs of money instead of having to deal with your Clansman's attempts at extortion."

Watching the woman, doing the political equivalent of asking her to 'put up or shut up', it was a bit much, but what someone under her aegis did was the equivalent of a declaration of war, so there was really no way for her to come out of this looking good. Now, her position was above mine, and she could try and do the standard bully move of 'shit rolls downhill' and try to 'put me in my place' after being embarrassed like she was by the Medarda man's actions, but not only would any submission I could show at this point be a blatant lie, I very clearly had shown that doing so would be akin to punching a porcupine, and about as effective.

"You were not like this when we met before, Mr. Talis," she finally declared.

"Councilor Medarda, I have spent a lot of time out on research trips, and, were I to act like your average Piltovan noble, I likely would have died on them," I stated, with a hint of ruefulness. It was meant to be taken in response to some sort of action I had taken during them, but was in actuality due to the fact that, falling upon my anti-Fey training, I'd let the mask slip a little. However, one of the many skills required to being a journeyman manipulator was to display real emotions, and then allow others to believe them to be sourced in the cause you wished them to believe they sprang from, as opposed to where they came in truth.

"I would rather be the person you met previously, though under better circumstances," I smiled slightly, "and did not expect to meet that sort of situation here, especially not in my own office. So…?"

Given more time to think, while I also provided another rush of verbiage to help cover my 'offense', complete with 'insight' into my history, the woman gathered herself, and informed me. "Do not worry… Jayce. I will make sure this is the end of this. Will you be still granting House Medarda the privileges you were before?"

"For you? Yes, Mel, I will," I agreed, easily, her more familiar address a good sign here, as the woman was quickly getting her diplomatic feet under her, her Clansman's action so openly confrontation and in-your-face I wouldn't be surprised if she'd momentarily had a flashback to a childhood memory. "Though if you need to use the removal of such as a cudgel to smack Nozoral amongst the metaphorical head and shoulders, I can pause them if you wish."

Which got me a bit of a queer look, though I wasn't entirely sure why, unless… Maybe she took my antagonism towards Nozoral as against House Medarda as a whole? Regardless, with another slight nod, seemingly to herself, the woman stated, "I just may take you up on that. Would it be too much to ask to keep this between us?"

"It would," I replied, formally, but without rancor. "I am loyal to the Kirammans, and while there is no need to seek out the Councilor as soon as we are done here, she will be informed of this… incident, as well as your continued reassurance that you will handle it in-house, along with my belief that you will do just that."

"Then I must thank you for your honesty," the diplomat mused. "It is… refreshing, and in short supply. I also… must apologize for Nozoral's statements. Know that he does not speak for House Medarda. I do."

"In which case, I wish you the best of luck convincing him of that," I replied. "I doubt it will be a task easily accomplished."

My statement caused her to smirk, a glimmer in her eye as she pronounced, "The best things never are. Good day, Mr. Talis."

I nodded in reply, letting her have the last word, as she left, and I hoped that, this time, Mel Medarda would be able to do what she promised to.

Chapter Ten

Caitlyn Kiramman was simultaneously worried, excited, nervous, and full of anticipation!

She was going to the Undercity!

Which sounded like a terrible idea!

Except she was going with Jayce!

…Yay?

To be quite honest, she hadn't really thought about her request, made over a year ago, and Jayce's deferring to Mother on this issue had been for the best, truly, and so she had given it no mind. She had thought Jayce's ventures into the Undercity were very brave, and his attempts to bring proper civilization to that nearly lawless underbelly of Piltover was quite commendable, though, hearing him talk of his efforts in their regular dinners with her mother, and occasionally her father, but Father…

Father did not care much for Jayce, but, as Mother had quietly explained to her, that was merely the man being protective, and wishing to keep her a child, not out of any sort of selfishness, but merely because he loved her dearly, and worried for the dangers she, too, would face outside of the walls of their properties.

Dangers like that which she might brush up against today, though Jayce would, of course, keep her safe, and had even gone out of his way to provide her the tools to do so herself, if she so desired!

The rifle was one that she'd used before, having familiarized herself with it at her family's range, the assembly collapsible and easily carried, but the blade he'd presented her was something new, and something… different.

She was not an expert in metals, nor forging, though she had listened when Jayce had talked about such things, but she was fairly certain that when one colored the blade of a weapon, one applied the coloring to the outside, one did not, somehow, color the metal itself.

The dagger she now wore, prominently sheathed at her side, the handle the dark green with purple accents of her house colors, was, while well made, normal, but the blade?

The blade was the exact same midnight blue of her hair, from tip to base, and for the life of her she couldn't figure out how he did so, merely smirking, winking, and teasingly telling her, "Magic!" which had made her glare at him, but she couldn't stop from chuckling at the joke herself.

And then there was her outfit!

It was conservative enough to pass her mother's inspections, a full body covering from the neck down, with fingerless gloves included, though the garment was… tight in a way she had not expected, not restraining, but it clung to her in a way that felt almost indecent, the fact that it was Jayce who had made this, with his own two hands, added a certain extra something to it that made her blush, and required her to force her thoughts away from inappropriate avenues, at least for now.

The built in bust support was unexpected, but not unappreciated, and, it was only by feeling the material closely that she'd found that it was armored, a thin latticework of hardened threads that almost felt metallic integrated into them, the shoulders having thin plates built in, as well as the elbows, knuckles, knees, and the toes of her boots also having those hardened segmented sections that moved with her, but, she could tell, would allow her to both take, and give, hits with them if needed.

And, best of all?

It was purple.

Her favorite color!

"I must admit," she smiled, stepping out, looking herself over in the mirror. "I do feel ready for war."

It did not look ornamented, but, with the gold accents, it certainly spoke of wealth, and the fabric both hid the armored sections and obscured how, er, form-fitting it was, almost like a full-body glove.

"What? No," Jayce responded, standing up straight in concern. "That isn't enough for…" he paused, as both women turned to look at him. "Oh, you were being metaphorical. Ignore me."

Sharing an amused look with her mother, the young man occasionally giving their words a bit too much weight sometimes, the older woman asked, "And what would be required for 'war', Jayce?"

"Helmets, for one," he stated instantly, counting off on his fingers, "then gloves, better armoring, more ammunition, and at least one kind of explosive to deal with armored targets, magical constructs, or great beasts."

"Better…" Mother echoed, turning to look over Caitlyn with an assessing eye. "Ah. Yes. Hmm, would you be averse to creating an outfit or two for myself and Tobias?"

"Sure," Jayce smiled, without hesitation. "Do you want complete getups or the armored base so you can change up the outer coverings?"

"The second, I believe," the older woman mused. "But do not let me keep you. Have fun!" she wished, with a slight smile.

"We will, Mother!" Caitlyn agreed, moving to take Jayce's arm and lead him out of their manor, into the waiting carriage, which would take them to the Bathysphere.

Why, the two of them together like this, it was almost like they were courting!

The heiress had to remind herself, that at only nineteen years of age, she was still a bit young for that sort of thing, though, hearing about some of the dalliances the girls at the balls her mother dragged her to had entertained in 'secret', often in the Undercity, Caitlyn had to wonder how stupid one had to be to sully themselves in that manner.

After all, Jayce would not, the well-intentioned man having turned down Violetta's many many insinuated invitations without ever embarrassing the girl by calling her out on them, though the Piltovan often wished he would, just to see her reaction, though the scion would not admit so out loud, so if he wouldn't touch a Freljordian, he obviously wouldn't waste a time with some Undercity strumpet!

…Right?

No, clearly he wouldn't, and, given the lack of any other paramours…

Well, Mother approved of him.

"Okay, so," the man sighed as they neared their destination, dressed in his own armored coat, short sword and pistol at his side, running a hand through his hair, "reminder, stick near me, if there's something you want to go check out tell me first and have me come with you, and don't pull your weapons unless I tell you, but if I tell you, do so."

She frowned, "Do, do you think we'll need to?"

"No," Jayce shook his head. "But I'm both known, and a child of a minor house. You're the scion of a major one. Someone might do something… stupid. Other than that, as far as anyone knows, you're just a 'family friend', so if they defer to me, that's normal. On any given day, the chances of things happening are low, but low is not none. Hence…" he tapped the hilt of his sword.

"Then it's good that I'm well equipped, is it not?" she smiled, absently stroking the handle of her new blade.

"Agreed, though if we don't need to use any of it, that would be best," he cautioned, the carriage opening, Carlton standing at attention as they disembarked, and it had just started to accept riders! Though, as she moved towards it, Jayce instead gently, but firmly, directed her towards the back of the line that had formed, which she went along with, Carlton moving up to sit next to Edward, their driver, and wait, watching the pair.

"Are, are we not going on?" she questioned, as, while Violetta had mentioned the 'proper' way of getting into the undercity, Caitlyn had assumed that only applied to mountain goats like her, not proper Piltovans.

"We are, but there's a way of doing this, and, since it goes on a five-minute rotation, it's not like I could reserve our seats," Jayce smiled, which did make a lot of sense. "And while we can't get on for this one, we're in no rush."

Moving to join the queue, the others' reaction to her companion were a very mixed bag, some smiling, some frowning, but a small number looked almost… afraid. A woman in good quality, if faded and slightly stained, clothing who they approached at the end of the line, nodded, with a small bit of apprehension, and wished him, "Good day, Mr. Talis."

"Good day…" he trailed off, staring at the woman, who started to sweat, finishing, "… Darcy?"

"Dasi," she corrected absently, visibly surprised.

"Right, Dasi, my apologies," Jayce nodded, snapping his fingers. "How is your eldest? Have they recovered?"

Clearly uncomfortable, as, unfortunately, many Undercity residents were when spoken to by nobility, the older woman slowly nodded. "Caleb has recovered, but…" she hesitated, "but he's still taking Shimmer."

"You need to get him to stop," the nobleman informed her, seriously, and without hesitation. "Now."

"I'm sorry," Caitlyn interjected, lifting a hand to catch his attention, "Shimmer?"

"A drug, likely derived from local sea life, which promotes bodily growth," he stated. "When injured, and when used in small doses, it makes for a medicine of nigh-magical potency when it comes to wound recovery. However," he intoned, looking at the woman with a great significance in his gaze, "All Medicines Are Poisons."

Turning back to the heiress, he continued, "And while it prioritizes damaged tissues first, once there are no more damaged tissues, it starts to target un-damaged tissues. This manifests as muscle growth… at first, but leads to tumors. However, the early positive outcomes, both in healing and in muscle growth, given the nature of such, combined with the feelings of euphoria it instills, like a number of drugs, make keeping to a consistent, low-level dosage only possible for those with the strongest of wills, though a specialized tool that measures out the correct amount each time can help. Without either of those, however, it will naturally lead one to over-use. And then, much like any recreational drug, side effects start to manifest more and more strongly, slight ones at first, and easily excusable, but they will grow, until the user loses themselves, like the berserker that attempted to, presumably, rob me last week, not that I could tell, as by that point he was little more than a snarling, deranged beast, and which Violetta and I were forced to put down."

"And that is a fate that I would not wish on Caleb," he stated seriously, the woman, wide eyed, nodding. Seeing the impression he made, he sighed, "I do not wish to worry you, Dasi, and there is a chance that it would all work out on his own, only the heaviest of users turning out such, but every gain he is seeing now could be achieved, slower and more safely, with mere training. Those like Vander needed no such aid, only commitment and dedication. While it would be a lot easier to take some myself, I would rather earn that strength properly and have my ward, Violetta, put me through my paces."

"You'd certainly have less bruises," the heiress teased, trying to lighten the suddenly serious mood.

Smiling, he shot back, "Please, those are 'battle markers!'"

"Like when you tripped on your own feet and almost broke your nose on the floor?" she mused.

"Oh, like you haven't slipped in the middle of a spar," he shot back. "Unless you were attempting some new and innovative defense where you were trying to block her fist with your chin?"

"I, you," the commoner questioned, gathering both their attention, the older woman hesitating, before pressing on, addressing Caitlyn, "You train with Miss Violetta? But…" she glanced at the waiting Kiramman carriage, with its pristine green lacquered wood and gold ornamentation.

"Oh, where are my manners. Mrs. Dasi, this is Cait, my good friend," Jayce smiled, reaching an arm around the heiress in a warm, one-armed hug that she rather enjoyed, even though she could see Carlton frowning minutely on the carriage.

"Cait?" the Undercity woman echoed, glancing back towards the carriage, her eyes widening slightly, the other around them, who were clearly listening in, starting to murmur.

Nodding, and letting go of her, the inventor nodded, "Yes, she's asked to see the HALP center, and I saw no reason to say no. And, look, our transport has arrived!"

The Bathysphere had indeed returned, those coming up from below exiting, the two of them, along with the woman they were talking to, entering the transport, as well as couple dozen others, and seats near the front were available, allowing them to see the Undercity clearly as they entered, Jayce paying the older man who was operating the entrance, Caitlyn smiling and giving him a nod in thanks for his service.

And then it descended, and the heiress' attention was captured by the sight before her.

She's heard of the Undercity, of how dirty it was, how unkempt.

Vi had talked about how it was 'free' and 'unpretentious', likely reminding her of her frigid homeland.

No one had ever said it was beautiful.

It was everything she had been told, indeed, but as the dropped deeper and deeper, far past the point where the sunlight extended, there was a riot of colors on display took her aback, lacking any central theme yet still somehow working together despite that, a rich tapestry of light and darkness, with a the glow rising up, the illumination almost a physical thing, wafting up from the streets. Avenues crisscrossing over a sheer drop, the largest of which they were coming down to, but, through open areas, hemmed with old metal guard-rails, deeper levels could be spotted.

It was… unlike anything she had ever seen before, and, to think, that such a place had always been here, only a few miles away!

It seemed wonderous, and like she was descending into a place of myth, a realm separate from reality, where the streetlights were not white, as they should be, but done in blues, greens, and reds, haphazard yet still functional, the workings of architecture the remains of some older, greater, civilization, as the Kiramman heiress knew what it took to build the structures that were her family's stock and trade, but to build something like this?

Even Jayce's Hexgate had been a significant undertaking, requiring a great deal of funding, only its enormous economical impact justifying the expense, but for those of the Undercity, poor as they were, barely able to eke out a living?

She had heard hints of it from the way that Piper and Jayce had discussed some of their work, but she had to agree, the people of the Undercity did not build this place, but that, in a way, made the experience of travelling into it that much more… magical, in a way that was impossible to describe.

Soon enough, the Bathysphere came to a stop, and they moved to disembark, Jayce warning, "Remember, stay with me, Cait, and breathe through your nose, not your mouth."

Moving to the doors, she looked at her companion, slightly confused, and they opened, the unexpectedly hot, humid breeze washing over them, the young woman asking, "What do you mean? Why-gah!" she swore, gagging, reflexively doing exactly what he'd warned her not to, and, "Oh, god, I can taste it!"

While a few of others around them shot her sour looks, others chuckled, as she carefully breathed in through her nose, which made the smell worse, but better that then getting another mouthful of… "What is that?" she demanded. "It's worse than a tannery!"

"Sweat, blood, piss, shit, rot and decay, industrial fumes from a variety of ventures, including tanneries, and traces of chemfluid," he commented mildly, taking a deep breath himself, somehow. "You get used to it. Or, like the Enforcers, you use a rebreather." Reaching inside a pocket he produced one. "Would you like one?"

Yes, was the obvious answer, because the stench was… impressive, however, looking around, no one else was using one, and, she knew, she just knew, that if she did, Violetta would never let her hear the end of it.

Waving it away, she stated, trying to keep her voice even, and failing, "No, I'll, I'll -cough- be fine!"

And it was only as she did so that she realized that, from the approving looks the locals sent her, that the offer had been a test of sorts. Or, well, it was likely Jayce had not meant it as such, but, it certainly sent a message, and, while Mother might not care about the opinions of those of the Undercity, Jayce seemed to. Not greatly, but he was going out of his way to show them who he was, and was clearly setting her up to be seen in the same way, though, for the life of her, she couldn't see why.

But if he wanted to, she was certainly going to go along with it!

Recovering, and moving forward, his hand on the small of her back, directing her off the transport, she was able to get herself under control, and, yes, breathing through her nose did help.

"It's easier if you go down the way that Violetta does," he remarked, "the filters the Bathysphere uses a bit of a double-edged sword, not letting you get used to it as you descend, but this is as bad as it gets, at least where we're going."

"It gets worse?" she questioned, disbelievingly.

Nodding, "Of course it does. While there might be some degree of rot, the dead are disposed of, or at least moved, out of The Lanes, and into other areas. But, again, not an issue for us. Now, you good to go?"

"I, I am," she nodded, forcing her expression into one of unaffected confidence, though, from the smile he sent her, he could tell she was faking it, though said nothing, offering her his arm, which, after a moment's hesitation, she took, and they continued onwards.

While the… aggressive scents took something away from the experience, it was still somewhat otherworldly, as she continued onwards, though, she had to remark, looking at some of the stalls lining the streets they passed, "The sanitation standards of this place is atrocious, Jayce."

"Yeah, it's something I've been trying to improve," he readily admitted. "Chemfluid is, among other things, a natural antiseptic, but it, paradoxically, also helps strengthen one's immune system by ingest it in trace amounts, so those that live here are more resistant to the… ill effects of consuming partially spoiled food. Our training actually does something similar, though general bodily strengthening rather than gastrointestinal hardening."

That made sense, though, the fact that it made them as filthy as Mother had claimed was… distasteful, to say the least. The fact that Jayce was attempting to teach them to be properly civilized was better, but, looking about… they had a long way to go.

Then again, given some of Vi's atrocious manners, though she had gotten better under Jayce's watchful eye, that did not seem to be an Undercity issue, but merely one befitting a lack of civilization.

However, as, they walked, the crowd parting around them, Caitlyn couldn't help but notice they were being watched by some very rough looking men and woman, all of them armed, however the gazes sent their way were not adversarial, and, if anything, were respectful.

"Jayce, who are those people?" she questioned.

"Oh, those are the Justifiers. They're the local gang. A number of them are Stillwater escapees," he stated, mildly, as if that was just a… thing you could say.

"They're what?" the heiress demanded, before frowning, processing what he said, and arguing, "But no one has escaped from Stillwater Prison!"

"Yes, that's what the Enforcers claim," he nodded, smiling.

Frowning, and a little worriedly, she whispered, "Then they're criminals! Why don't the Enforcers do something!?"

"Because they don't want to die, most likely," the man stated, as the continued down the street. "Then again, if you look around, do you see any Enforcers?"

The thought was absurd, but, doing what he asked…

"…oh," she stated, feeling particularly vulnerable, but, no, Jayce came here all the time, and was, apparently, on good terms with the dangerous escaped criminals which…

"What is their opinion of Vi?" the heiress questioned.

"To be honest, I think they're scared shitless of her," Jayce mused, chuckling.

Of course, because, clearly, while dangerous escaped criminals were bad, that, that Druvask was worse.

Why does that make perfect sense?

Regardless, they continued on, Jayce leading her off onto a side-street, and, in the distance, the HALP Center was unmistakable as anything else, a beacon of white light in the dim rainbow illumination of the Undercity, the architecture of a completely different style than the rest, seeming almost like a fortress in comparison to the endless buildings that ran into each other without reason, standing tall, and, while the other buildings curved over it, high above. It occupied its own space, one that seemed like a carved out bastion of familiar civilization in the grimy, otherworldly surroundings it sat in.

While the structure was not quite Piltovan, it was still recognizably of the same school, the windows subtly reinforced, the walls, which had been patched over from seemed to be bullet scars, standing strong, and giving the distinct impression that they would take a dedicated siege to breech. Looking closer, she could see that, while the metal doors swung freely, there was a hidden gate that could be dropped if needed, and, the windows could similarly be covered, leaving a slit that one could fire through, if need be.

But, despite all of that, the structure looked… oddly welcoming, and not just for its safety in this lawless place, and while there were colorful murals covering the smooth stone walls, the art chaotic, a reflection of their surroundings, however, unlike that which adorned nearby walls, there was a unifying theme to it that flowed together. It used many of the colors that the heiress knew that Piper preferred, but instead of its components harshly standing out with the sharp, messy brushstrokes the young girl normally preferred, the bright pinks, purples, greens, and blues worked in harmony, the jagged markings smoothed out into still energetic seeming, but more well-rounded shapes, that, Caitlyn realized, if one relaxed the eye, blurred together to form the letters H.A.L.P., making a larger sign similar to the smaller, more Piltovan, brass one that adorned the doorway.

"Like the art?" Jayce questioned.

"Yes, it's… very Piper," the heiress commented, unsure how else to put it.

With a laugh, he agreed, "Yeah, it is. This is what happens when you don't let her use her rough draft, now come on, I want you to see what we've done."

Following him, yes, there were two more of the… 'Justifiers', who were working as door guards, and, yes, inside there was an actual Enforcer, clearly acting as security. Caitlyn wondered how the man could sit there when there were escaped convicts not even twenty feet away, but, but that was something she'd ask later.

Instead, she cast her gaze about the center, and it took a few moments to realize that not only was the air pleasantly cool, almost cold, but that it didn't smell.

More than that, looking about, it was clean.

The people were very much not, having come in from outside, but the white walls, sparsely decorated with message boards, calendars, and the occasional piece of art, painted on to the structure itself, in more styles than just Piper's, added color to it, but tastefully so. Compared to the other structures surrounding it this place's appearance, it was like night and day, though, in many ways, this building was just as strange as the rest of the Undercity was.

There were still odd scents, with hints of those from outside, but the majority of the odors were in two categories, the first that of a kitchen, that latter… she wasn't sure, the harsher, almost acidic scent mixed with that of cooking food that wasn't necessarily bad, but was certainly different. The layout, meanwhile, was also odd, wide yet oddly welcoming, somewhere between an industrial space, like a warehouse or workshop, and living quarters, the ceilings nowhere close to the height of the more public areas of her home, but yet were still higher than those of a servant's room, or a shop.

Continuing to take in the space, moving past a large cafeteria, she peered inside rooms where children sat, a blackboard covered in basic mathematics at the front; where meetings were happening, and coin was exchanging hands; and where a few injured men and women were being treated, and she realized that there was quite a bit going on here. Also, the scion noticed that those that were working were all wearing the same uniform, black pants, white shirt, and a crimson vest, but more than that was the fact that they were almost all older women who smiled at Jayce in a way that Caitlyn did not exactly care for, nor did she care for the fact that many of them seem to be unable to button up their garment correctly, displaying their busts, especially as she herself was clothed from the neck down…

Wearing clothing that Jayce himself created for her.

And which held her tightly.

While he was polite, his gaze never dipping below their eyes.

… She was alright with this.

And there was Vi, leaning against the wall, watching her, with that stupid little smirk of hers, as the white-haired girl pushed off, approaching them.

"Hello, Violetta," Jayce smiled. "Anything interesting happen?"

"Other than the fact we're serving Cupcakes now?" the Freljordian quipped, looking closely at the heiress, looking for something.

"Yes?" Caitlyn challenged, as, smugly, Jayce held a hand out, and, with an annoyed snort, Vi reached into her jacket and slapped a silver into his waiting palm, which he pocketed. "What?"

Beside her, the nobleman mused, "Oh, just a bet on whether or not you'd use the rebreather."

"At least you're finally wearing something decent," the brawler commented, turning around to stalk back to the wall, as the heiress tried, and failed, not to smirk herself, though, thinking about it, did Jayce also make Vi's clothing?

"Jayce, darling," a voice purred, soft and sultry, that made her turn, as a Yordle descended the stairs, hair messily yet artfully falling in crimson waves around her shoulders, wearing an outfit that was superficially the same as the others, but the short woman seemed to have been poured into it, slinking down the steps fluidly in a way that made the girl's brain stutter for a moment, not sure how to react.

"Ah, Babette," the man smiled warmly, in a way that made the scion double-take, looking between the two, not sure what was going on, as he lifted an arm to rest across the blue-haired girl's shoulders, directing her forward, bringing her closer to the… disturbingly sexual woman, not that there was anything wrong with that, of course. "This is Caitlyn, who I've told you about. Caitlyn, this is Babette, she runs the day-to-day operations of the HALP Center for me."

"Among other things," the short woman teased, stopping a few steps from the bottom, to look, not down upon them, but across at them, some part of the heiress that spoke with her mother's voice dissecting the move as the other woman putting herself below Jayce but on the same level as her. "That said, Piper needs your help with the filters, Jayce. You did say she wasn't to mess with them, but one of them is jiggling, and the girl wants to crack it open to see why. Why don't you leave your friend with me? We can talk… woman to woman."

"Babette," Jayce warned, his arm dropping from her side.

Smiling, and, gods, even the woman's smile practically dripped lewdness, and Caitlyn wondered where he found her, the redhead cooed, "Oh, don't worry, I'll only say good things. Besides, you wanted to show her what you were doing here, right?"

"Babette," the inventor growled, the sound reverberating in a way that was… primal, in a way that Caitlyn wasn't really sure about, though she thought she liked, and, from the way the Yordle, ever so slightly shuddered, but, of course, in a sexual way, and she wasn't the only one, only that just raised even more questions! The other woman hid it well, but Caitlyn had been trained to read expressions, and, well, if that wasn't lust in the redhead's eyes, the heiress would eat her hat!

And, the scion noticed, several of those in the cafeteria perked up, and were glancing about, warily, though she was a bit more focused on what was going on between her companion and this… woman.

"Don't worry, kid," Babette replied, no longer teasing. "You know you can trust me. I just want to get to know the girl you're so interested in. Can you blame me?"

"Interested in?" Caitlyn echoed, looking between the two, but Jayce didn't respond to her, letting out a long breath.

"Sure, okay," the man agreed, turning to her. "Cait, if you don't mind, something has come up, and it shouldn't take more than a few minutes to fix. Babette can be a bit… much, but she means well, and she can tell you more about what we're doing here. That work for you?"

"… yes?" the heiress replied, unsure.

"Okay then, I'll be right back," he told her with a nod, moving to take the stairs two at a time, and passing by the Yordle without a second look, leaving her there, while, yes, Vi was struggling not to laugh.

Of course she was, and Caitlyn flushed, realizing she was being played for a foo-

"Well, Caitlyn, why don't you follow me?" the Yordle prompted, dragging her attention back to the shorter woman, who turned, going up the stairs, the heiress' eyes drawn to the woman's form as she did so, staring, and-

What am I doing? She thought, breaking herself out of… whatever that was, and quickly followed, ignoring the Druvask's laughter, turning bright red in embarrassment, not even sure what was going on, but Babette led her to an office on the next floor, the room a lot more… intimate, the walls draped with a bright red fabric that muffled the sounds below them, and almost seemed boudoir like.

"Tea?" the short woman purred, and, stiffly, and unsure, Caitlyn nodded, responding, "Yes, thank you. Light milk and one sugar."

"If that's what you… desire," the redhead smiled, moving to the side, and, by the glowing tubes, was that a chemtech teapot?

Pouring the drink gave the heiress a moment to think, at least, as she had met Yordles before, including Councilor Heimerdinger, and they were… nice enough, mild mannered, not, not…

Sex on two legs.

And Caitlyn like boys, well she liked men, like Jayce, and, really, only Jayce, but that was okay, however, "What did you mean, when you said that Jayce was interested in me?"

"Well, you are the Kiramman's girl, and the Kirammans helped pay for all of this," Babette observed, sending a lingering glass her way, "Not to mention how… hot, and… heavy things are when you two get… physical?"

"I…" wish. "Beg pardon?" Caitlyn questioned. "I'm not sure what it is that you have heard, but-"

"So you aren't learning how to fight from Violetta, along with him?" the Yordle questioned, stalling out the younger woman's offense.

"I. Oh. Yes. Of course," the heiress sputtered, because, yes, of course that's what she was referring to, "my apologies. I, so, yes. That, that is what happened. Nothing else."

Nodding, Babette echoed teasingly, "Of course," handing the blue-haired woman her drink, and taking her own as she sat down behind her desk.

"I, another question, if you don't mind," Caitlyn stated. "You said you did… other things?"

Taking a sip of her tea, the heiress looked at the shorter woman, who smiled, and replied, "Oh, I just run the most established brothel in the Undercity."

Choking on the tea, coughing it up a little, Caitlyn looked at the other woman, who lifted a sultry eyebrow in amused challenged, the younger woman, demanding, "You what?"

"Oh, yes, it doesn't even have a name, really, though it doesn't need one," Babette remarked, idly unbuttoning her vest. "But you could say I'm a definite… people pleaser."

That's not what that phrase means! the heiress internally replied, trying to maintain some sense of decorum, but, then, a horrible thought occurred to her. "I, did Jayce, did he…"

"Come to me for my… services?" the, the courtesan questioned, running one hand down her very, very appealing form. Waiting for a response, Caitlyn nodded, with no small amount of trepidation, and Babette replied, "Twice, and both times were… quite productive."

Blushing bright red at the thought, a mental image forcing its way into her mind, of, what, some part of the younger woman couldn't help but be a bit disappointed, though, then again, seeing the woman in question, she found it hard to blame him, as even she…. What? No. right. Jayce. He had-

The Yordle burst into laughter, deep, sensuous laughter, as she told the sniper, "We talked."

"I, I mean I hope he wouldn't stay entirely silent," Caitlyn replied, without meaning to, and why did she say tha-

"No, I mean all we did was talk. Surprised the hell out of me, the first time," the older woman revealed.

"… what?"

"I know!" the short redhead replied, almost intoxicating charm fading slightly, and a deeper, warmer, somehow more intimate amusement taking its place. "He'd seen me, gathering resources for that experiment of his, and, having to deal with Heimerdinger, wanted to know about Yordles, so he came to me to find out. I've had men who say they liked me for my mind, but never quite that way. He really is something special, isn't he?"

Completely thrown, now, Caitlyn nodded, responding, "He… is. I, just checking, but you're saying he's not… you know, with you?"

"Not even when I offered," Babette informed her, a mischievous glint entering the older woman's eye. "It's almost enough to make a woman insecure. Tell me, Caitlyn," the Yordle purred, shifting in her chair. "Girl to girl, I want your honest opinion." Stretching in a way that did… interesting things to her shirt, the courtesan questioned, "Am I… attractive? The type that you'd want to do wonderful, terrible, pleasurable things to?"

"Y-yes?" the heiress replied, quickly amending, "I, if I were a man. B-But I'm not. But… is it hot in here?"

"No, it's just me," the Yordle smiled, before throwing her head back and cackling with laughter. "Oh, you really are just like your great-great-grandmother, girl."

"I… what?" Caitlyn sputtered, completely lost. "You, I, you're that old? But, um."

Chuckling, Babette replied, "I don't look it?" At the sniper's nod, she sighed, "One thing you need to understand, is that Yordles, truly, only look as old as they feel, and before I met Jayce, you wouldn't be asking that question. How old did you think I was? Don't worry, I won't be offended."

Not sure, the heiress slowly stated, "Well, given that Heimerdinger is three hundred and ten, I'd say… a hundred and two?"

"Add an extra zero, and you're close," the other woman stated with good humor.

Blinking, Caitlyn felt the need to point out, "But, but that would make you older than Piltover!"

"Girl, I was around for the end of the Rune Wars," the ancient Yordle smiled, with a tinge of sadness.

"And, but, if you're that old, why are you a…" the heiress started to ask, and then realized how rude that question was.

"A whore?" the courtesan questioned. "Because I'm a people pleaser, in a lot of senses, and a lot of good men destroy themselves in their loneliness, so I get to help them, make money, and have a fun time. Well, if you love your job, you'll never work a day in your life!" she laughed. "And Yordles… aren't like normal people, which you could tell if you've ever met the Fuzzball who runs the Academy."

That was certainly a… unique perspective, however, following that was the question, "Wait, you knew my great-great-grandmother?"

"Ah, yes, Cassiopia was quite the woman, very take-charge, and in more than just bed!" Babette smiled.

"I, you, uh, I, I don't know what to do with this," Caitlyn admitted, having never met the woman, only seen paintings, but… what?

With a fluid shrug that drew the eye, the courtesan told her, "Know your ancestors were people, just like you. Possibly just like you," she added, which, wait, what?

Moving onto a safer topic, the heiress questioned, waving about the room "But, how did you go from doing that, to… to this?"

"Jayce asked me," Babette answered simply. "Like I said, you're only as young as you feel, and I'd gotten… old. But, listening to him, what he wanted to do, how he wanted to help, like I used to, it made me remember what I was like. And, then," with a wave to herself, she stated, "I was, and so I owe him. He wanted locals to work here, and was willing to employ those that others wouldn't."

Frowning, Caitlyn realized the woman downstairs were all… ex-courtesans, and, "I, is that wise?" At the Yordle's single arched eyebrow, she pressed on, "I trust Jayce's judgement, so if he believes you to be a woman of good…" Don't say breeding. Don't say breeding. "character, then I will understand, but others without your, your storied history…"

"Hmm, you are like him," Babette mused, in a way that, simultaneously, did not feel like a compliment, yet, in this context, probably was. "But, as he told me, he was willing to give my girls a second chance, not a third. Now, I, personally, believe they're still on their first, but he has laid down the law in that respect, and, unfortunately, some of them were not willing to listen to him, or me, and thus were let go. The others have done well, and Jayce agrees. Is that enough for you?"

"I, this is Jayce's venture, not mine," the heiress deferred, wondering what he was thinking, but, then again, the man had an odd way of approaching things, and, it sounded, had already done the kind of sorting that Mother insisted was necessary when dealing with servants from the Undercity, so, "but that sounds wholly acceptable."

Looking at her, and taking a sip, the courtesan smirked, "Or are you worried that he's 'sampled the merchandise'?"

"I, what?" Caitlyn sputtered. "But you said-"

"I said he hasn't with me," the Yordle corrected, but, before the sniper could contest that Jayce wouldn't do that, the shorter woman rolled her eyes, "Don't worry your pretty blue head over it, he hasn't, though I wish he would."

"I beg pardon?" the heiress responded, offended, and righteously this time!

"It's not healthy, getting backed up like that," the redhead declared, as if that were just a fact. "I'd thought that maybe you were cleaning his pipes, but that isn't the case either. Going without, it's not natural."

Maybe for you it's not, Caitlyn thought, but, no, she didn't want to offend Jayce's… employee? Friend? But, still, the scion felt compelled to respond, so, choosing her words carefully, stated, "That might be how things are done in the Undercity, but in the rest of Piltover, we have better control over our impulses."

"Girl," Babette stated flatly, "In the last week, I've seen fifteen Ferros, twelve Arvinos, nine Tariosts, seven Medardas, and two Kirammans pass through my establishment. My main establishment. Trust me when I say you don't. You really don't."

Thinking about it, the sniper felt sinking dread. "It was Cousin Stewart, wasn't it."

"I would never disclose the names of my clients," Babette replied, "though he really should get that mole looked at by a healer, as he might need to have it removed. Also, tell Annabeth that if she's looking for her missing earring, we've cleaned it off and set it aside for her to pick up the next time she visits. If it's any consolation, the Kirammans are, by far, some of our better clients."

"It's not," Caitlyn groaned, not having needed to know that, but, but she had asked. "I, fine, that might be 'normal', but Jayce is exceptional. As am I. And, I suppose, so is Violetta, unless…" she trailed off.

With a grimace, the Yordle replied, "Vi's got reasons of her own. Reasons that aren't mine to share. But, I guess, you're not wrong about Jayce," she mused. "He really is something special. I suppose the two of us are alike that way."

"In what way?" the Kiramman heiress questioned.

"In that we both like the same man," the courtesan smirked. "And even if we're not pole sisters, I'd be willing to give you some… pointers? Who knows, if we go after him together, he might just fold. I promise, I'll make sure you both have a very, very good first time," she promised.

Blushing bright red, and looking anywhere at the sultry shortstack, Caitlyn stared into her cup, and asked, "So, are we going to talk about the HALP Center or not?"

"Have it your way, girl, just remember, offer's open!" Babette teased, and then they, thankfully, finally moved off that topic, the woman talking about the large number of things they did. The sniper was aware of the testing of devices, though the fact that they were testing Chemtech devices in addition to Hextech ones was a fact both fascinating and horrifying, though making sure they were not dangerous, like devices that normally used that power source were said to be, was to be expected of Jayce.

More than that, their educational endeavors were things she had glimpsed, and had been mentioned in passing, but the depth of their efforts was something she had not been aware of, and the logistics of supplying cost-effective, and safe, meals was something that Caitlyn had more expertise with, however…

"Twenty-five silver per hog!" she exclaimed. "That's highway robbery!"

"Maybe to you up in Piltover," Babette remarked dryly, "but down here that's just the cost of doing business."

Pursing her lips, the heiress made a decision. "Perhaps if this were to cater your… other enterprise, that would be acceptable, but this is Jayce's venture, and Jayce is, by proxy, under the aegis of the Kirammans. Who's your supplier?"

"Little Eddie," the Yordle replied, after a moment, and the scion's perplexed stare, amending that too, "the Blue Pengu Trading Company."

Thankfully, her studies were of use here, "Ah, that makes your suppliers a Tariost subsidiary, though not falling under the proper charters themselves, most likely to avoid the reputation, of, well…" she trailed off.

"Selling in the Undercity?" suggested Babette dryly.

"Well, yes," Caitlyn agreed. "Jayce's reputation, his separation from the Talis line, and his own personal wealth insulates him from the social stigma of this venture, not that I think he would care if it didn't, and the Kirammans are such that others know better than to question us. But that subsidiary agreement comes with certain stipulations that Jayce cannot leverage effectively, including clauses forestalling the types of fees that they are certainly putting down on their books to avoid, if I had to guess, paying the proper taxes and tariffs based upon the goods they offload while keeping the most product possible. They have a bit of history of doing so, you see, though never through their official lines."

The ancient courtesan, watching the heiress with amusement, nodded, mused, "Hmm, very like him. Continue."

"I, er," the sniper paused, unsure what the older woman meant by that, and thus pressed on, "what that means is that, with the proper letters, authorizations, and… reminders, we should be able to drop your operational costs significantly. I'd say, 'and turn a tidy profit', but, that isn't what you do here, is it?"

"While I'm sure my girls would like a pay raise, they're fine," the madam smiled. "And Jayce would say…"

"That he already has enough," Caitlyn smiled back, rolling her eyes, that man… just not getting business sometimes. "But, in that case, the additional funds could be turned towards an expansion of services, of more supplies to do so, if you're running low, but if you have other plans, ones that were previously shelved due to resource limitations, perhaps I could assist in implementing those?" She hesitated, as, well, this really wasn't her project, and the other woman was in charge of this endeavor, after Jayce of course. "That is, if you don't mind?"

Chuckling to herself, the young-looking old woman pulled open a drawer, and extracted several file folders, placing them on the desk for the heiress to peruse, as she stated, "I can definitely see why Jayce likes you."