13. The Storm Above And Below
Chapter 13 – The Storm Above and Below
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POV: Marcus – Stillwater Hold
The infirmary stank of blood and burnt oil. Marcus leaned against the cold metal wall of the command room, wiping a streak of soot from his cheek as reports piled onto the desk beside him. Every page bled loss—bodies broken, squads scattered, districts lost.
"Damage report," he barked, voice gravel.
His second-in-command, Sergeant Rennick, didn't hesitate. "We lost 42 enforcers. The Glimmerdocks are fully fortified. Harbor was a total rout. We barely escaped."
Marcus gritted his teeth. "And the reinforcements? Where are the weapons we were promised?"
Rennick grimaced. "Tomorrow at the earliest. They're still being cleared for transport from the upper foundries."
Marcus slammed a fist onto the table. Tools rattled. "By then, she'll have pushed us out of the south entirely."
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POV: Piltover Council Chamber – Dawn
Golden sunlight filtered through the high stained-glass windows, but the mood in the Council was anything but warm.
"We're down to minimum enforcer coverage in the lower city," declared Councilor Medarda, tapping the parchment hard enough to crinkle it. "We either send more troops or admit we've lost control."
"All enforcers, save those needed for basic order in Piltover, are being transferred," said Councilor Bolbok. "Zaun is bleeding control into Virelle. If we don't act now, we may never reclaim it."
"And what of weapons?" asked Mel, voice calm but clipped.
Jayce stepped forward, sleepless. "They'll arrive tomorrow, same as the reinforcements."
"Where is Heimerdinger in all this?" Councilor Shoola muttered.
"Still buried in the Academy," Jayce replied. "He refuses to involve himself."
At that, Lady Cassandra Kiramman rose slowly from her chair. "Sheriff Grayson was taken. I just received the report."
The room fell silent.
"She trained my daughter," Cassandra said. "She trained half the enforcer corps. Caitlyn... she won't take this well."
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POV: Caitlyn – Kiramman Estate
Caitlyn stared at the letter Jayce had delivered. Greyson. Captured. Alive, but held somewhere in Zaun.
She was already halfway to the weapons locker when the door opened.
"Don't," Cassandra said softly.
"They took her."
"She's not dead," her mother replied. "No one's been killed. This isn't war—yet. She's a prisoner. We'll negotiate her release."
"You know what they'll do to her," Caitlyn hissed.
"You are not a lone gun, Caitlyn. You're a Kiramman. We do not abandon sense for sentiment."
Caitlyn didn't reply. That night, she slipped out through the servant's tunnels, rifle in hand.
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POV: Greyson – Virelle, Interrogation Room
The cell was small but clean. One table. Two chairs. Greyson sat cuffed, bruised but upright. The door opened.
Vander stepped inside, arms folded.
"Funny how things flip, huh?" he said.
"I remember when you were the one in the chair," Greyson replied coolly.
"And you let me go. Because you believed in the law."
"And you're here to rub it in?"
Vander shrugged. "No. I'm here to ask you one question: Do you think Piltover will burn the Undercity to save its pride?"
She didn't answer.
"Because if they do, it won't just be my kids bleeding. Yours too."
They locked eyes, the history between them sharp as razors.
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POV: Mel & Elora – Council Gardens
In the shaded inner garden of Piltover's council manor, Mel Medarda walked slowly beneath the hanging gold lanterns, arms clasped behind her back. She was not alone.
Elora, Piltover council aide and one of the few confidants Mel tolerated in private, sat quietly on the stone bench, watching koi fish drift in the shallow pool.
"You've been restless," Elora said without looking.
"Because Zaun now has a ruler who isn't afraid of us," Mel answered. "Ashryn isn't grasping at power. She's planning with it."
Elora arched a brow. "And that troubles you?"
"It fascinates me. And yes—it troubles me. This isn't Silco with his shimmer. She's building a nation in the mud, one ministry at a time."
"Then make her an ally."
"You think she'd bend the knee to diplomacy?"
Elora smirked. "No. But I think she'd listen. Especially if you speak in her language."
Mel nodded slowly, eyes distant. "Ashryn Virelle... we underestimated her. That was a mistake."
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POV: Ashryn – Ashenheart, Clock Tower
Ashryn stood barefoot in her quarters, coat draped on a wall hook. Her eyes gleamed as she pulled up the interface only she could see.
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System Status Panel – Updated
DP Balance: 3,400 DP
New Achievement: "Harbor Hook" (Secured Sector 8) +500 DP
Total DP: 3,900 DP
Stats:
Strength: 29 | Agility: 22 | Endurance: 35
Intelligence: 24 | Sense: 27 | Charisma: 23
Population: 140,000
Controlled Sectors: 8
City Status: Fortified, Growing
Loyalty DP Earned: 10,570
Total Achievement DP: 16,500
Recent Achievements:
"Steel Reigns Where Chaos Ruled" +1,000 DP
"Authority Forged in Ink and Iron" +1,200 DP
"Broken Harbor, Seized and Sealed" +800 DP
"Harbor Hook" (Secured Sector 8) +500 DP
Current DP Balance: 3,900
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Ashryn swiped through the shop.
> Blueprint: " Techmaturgical Golem " Cost: 4,000 DP
She hissed. Just short.
"Sunken Market," she muttered. "That sector's next. Before nightfall."
Her fingers tightened. Once she had the blueprint, she'd confront Singed. There were answers buried in that lab, and Orianna's secret was one of them.
She turned from the window as the rain started again.
Tomorrow would be blood and gears.
And Virelle would rise.
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POV: Virellian Vanguard – Sunken Market Operation
The air hung thick with smoke and spice as the Sunken Market's entrance gates creaked open. Virellian forces, led by a squad under Callum's command, moved in with practiced precision.
There were no speeches—only clear orders.
"Secure the exits. Post signs that trade continues under new laws. No looting. No shimmer. No exceptions," Callum barked, visor gleaming under flickering lanterns.
Stalls once operated by neutral merchants froze. Some scattered, others stood defiant. But when the Virellian exo-bracers hit the ground with metallic clunks, resistance melted.
A street performer stopped mid-juggle. A shimmer runner ducked into an alley—only to be tripped and zip-tied by two Ministry of Justice agents in modified enforcer gear.
From above, banners bearing the Virelle insignia unfurled over the market archways. Cheers and wary silence followed.
One shopkeeper, a Zaunite elder with grease-stained fingers, looked up at Callum. "You running this place now, kid?"
Callum gave a tired grin. "Nah. Just making sure it runs fair."
And with that, the Sunken Market was theirs.
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