3. The Weight Of Words

Chapter 3: The Weight of Words

Lynne adjusted her glasses, eyes fixed on the projection hovering in front of her. The names, faces, and behavioral summaries of the Piltover delegation glowed in soft violet light. A neat catalogue, her doing—compiled in under an hour after their arrival at Virelle's southern checkpoint. Ashryn had given her the rest: impressions, historical context, cautionary flags.

And yet, Lynne didn't feel ready.

Not really.

The knowledge was there, filed away in the corners of her mind—Cassandra Kiramman, Council Matron, political veteran with a conservative bent. Mel Medarda, the golden fox, dangerously charming and ruthlessly pragmatic. Jayce Talis, emotional, self-righteous, brilliant in bursts, predictable when cornered. And the Ferros man, Derreck. An unknown. A functionary, most likely, with just enough authority to take notes and send word home.

But understanding them? That was the part she struggled with.

Photographic memory didn't grant insight. It gave you pieces. Insight was the pattern. That took time. And Lynne... hadn't had much.

"Your hand's shaking," Cael said from beside her. "You nervous?"

She looked down. Her grip on the dataslate was firm—too firm. She relaxed it.

"Not nervous. Just... focused."

He nodded. Dressed in his formal Virelle coat—rich ocean blue, lined in silver—Cael looked like he belonged at the head of a table, not beside it.

"You ready for this?" Cael asked her without looking. His voice was low. Casual on the surface. Weight beneath.

Lynne nodded. "You'll be leading this."

"You're observing?"

"I'm learning."

A corner of his mouth quirked. "Good. Don't interrupt unless I signal."

She nodded again, adjusting her posture.

A soft chime sounded. All heads turned as the guards sealed the chamber. The negotiations had begun.

---

The conference hall Ashryn had personally designed for diplomacy. Clean lines, reinforced doors, subtle defense mechanisms tucked in the ceiling. The room had been stripped of any Virellan embellishment. Neutral lighting, even flooring, a single long table. On one side sat Cael and Lynne; opposite them, Mel Medarda, Cassandra Kiramman, and a Ferros representative named Yoren—young, well-mannered, eyes sharp behind the Ferros pin on his lapel.

Sheriff Greyson and Captain Marcus sat restrained to the side—watchful but silent. Caitlyn, seated beside her mother, met Lynne's gaze once before looking away.

"I appreciate your hospitality," Mel said, offering a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Virelle always treats its guests with respect," Cael replied with equal ease. "Let's begin."

Cassandra wasted no time. "We want our people back. Caitlyn. Sheriff Greyson. Captain Marcus. In exchange, Piltover is prepared to offer humanitarian aid and economic reopening."

Cael leaned forward slightly. "We both know those are things Piltover should be doing anyway. But I appreciate the packaging."

Mel's smile twitched.

Lynne watched them, observing each tone shift, each glance. Mel was leaning on charm. Cassandra preferred direct pressure. Yoren was silent—probably here to observe tech discussions.

Cael continued, "We're open to negotiation. Virelle recognizes Caitlyn's value as a political figure. Her release warrants compensation."

Mel raised a brow. "What kind?"

"Let's begin with your offer," Cael said, folding his hands neatly on the table.

"Our intention is peaceful resolution," Mel continued. "We're prepared to offer reparations—monetary and material—for their return."

Lynne leaned in slightly, eyes scanning their micro-expressions.

Cael didn't reply immediately. He reached for his tablet, tapped a few numbers, then turned it toward the delegation.

A sum appeared.

The room went still.

"Access to the Piltover Academy's knowledge banks," Cael said. "Medical research archives, educational material, infrastructure development studies. Not military R&D. We're asking for data that benefits civilians."

Yoren finally spoke. "That's... extensive. The academy's libraries go back centuries."

"All the better," Cael said. "We're a new state. We need the foundation."

Cassandra tapped her fingers on the table. "You're requesting top-tier research in exchange for three individuals, two of whom hold no council position. That's excessive."

"It's accurate," Cael said. "You're not just paying for their freedom. You're paying for the invasion. For the damage to our people. For the insult. You're paying for the fact that your prisoners are alive and unhurt, unlike the ones buried in the Sump."

Mel crossed her legs, smile sharpening. "We expected assertiveness. Not a ransom."

Cael leaned back. "I assure you, Councilor Medarda, we don't take hostages. But we do understand leverage."

Jayce opened his mouth. Cassandra touched his arm. He fell silent.

Mel sighed, feigning weariness. "That price could fund two new sectors in Piltover."

"Then perhaps you should've thought of that before sending them here."

Lynne noted the shift in Mel's eyes. Not anger. Not quite. Annoyance at losing control.

She was learning.

Seeing that both of them refused to budge, Cael continued, "We can narrow the scope. You keep sensitive weaponization studies. We get medical, social policy, and engineering curriculum. All non-combat applicable."

Mel interjected, "You're also requesting financial compensation?"

"Not requesting," Cael corrected gently. "Expecting. Virelle took on damage from a war it didn't start. You've acknowledged that in your internal memos. We want reparations. Not out of spite—out of necessity."

Cael chuckled softly. "Our economy's fine. But yes, we're scaling. And if your offer can't match the value of your people, maybe it's better they stay in Virelle custody. We treat them well."

He let the silence stretch. He'd already planted the demand. It would fester in their minds, twist beneath the surface.

Lynne recognized the tactic. Slow application of pressure.

"Look," Mel said, adjusting her position again, "we're willing to increase the payment. Gold. Cogs. Refined hexcores. But academic data? That's not something we can approve without the full Council."

"Then send word to the Council," Cael said, tone unchanging.

Cassandra spoke carefully. "Your city needs resources. Stability. Alliances. Let's not derail talks with demands you know we can't fulfill immediately."

Lynne turned that sentence over in her head.

It wasn't a refusal. It was a delay tactic.

Cael caught it too. "Virelle has time. Piltover's reputation doesn't. The world's already heard what happened. The City of Progress brought to heel by a people they claimed were beneath them. You're not just buying back lives. You're buying back optics."

Silence.

Even Jayce understood the weight of that.

"We'll offer a tiered payment. In Golden Hexes, staggered quarterly. Plus shipment of medical devices and industrial tools."

"And?"

"Ten-year access to the standard Academy curriculum," Cassandra added. "No experimental R&D. No cutting-edge schematics."

Just as Lynne thought this was going too smoothly, Cael continued, "In return?"

Jayce said, vibrating with excitement, "Your tech—mainly the power source. Virellite, is it?"

Cael shot that down real quick. "No. You heard Lady Ashryn. Both Virellite and weapons powered by it are Virelle-exclusive. Not for sale."

Mel said calmly, "Then we need priority access to Virellite trade and your commercial products that weren't presented at the event, along with your communication equipment and transportation tech. Of course, we'll pay."

"We'd consider trade," Cael said. "Non-essential technology. Engineering goods, energy batteries, diagnostic kits."

"No weapons," Cassandra confirmed.

"None," Cael agreed. "That was never on the table."

"So it's communication devices and transportation tech. We'll give you your people along with trade priority for Virellite batteries and commercial tech, including those not presented in the event. And in return, you'll give us monetary compensation and your medical and educational system archives, along with a non-aggression pact from both sides and mutual trade agreements."

Mel and Cassandra shared a look before Mel said, "We agree to everything, but your communication tech is compulsory."

Just as Cael was about to push further, Ashryn entered and said, "We agree. Let's finalize the contract. You'll pay upfront for the tech, and they will be delivered when your documents reach us."

Cassandra tilted her head slightly. "And the prisoners?"

"We'll release them once contracts are signed," Ashryn said. "No delay. No tricks. You get them when we get what we agreed on."

---

After the session, Lynne stood beside Cael as the delegation was escorted out.

He didn't speak right away. Just stood there, head tilted slightly, thinking.

"You did well," she said.

He raised an eyebrow. "You sound surprised."

"I'm not."

"Why did you let them have the communication tech? It's such a waste. If we're gonna give them that, we might as well have asked for more," Cael asked, perplexed.

Ashryn chuckled dramatically and declared,

"Of course you don't understand. Them having the communication system is beneficial to us. Right now, our information network relies on our spies. But if they implement the communication system, then Jarvis alone can collect all the information that our spy network collects."

Cael and Lynne were stunned.

Cael chuckled, then paused. "What did you think of Mel and Cassandra?"

"What, are you scared?"

"No, I'm not."

"Haha... Don't worry. They've been doing this for years before us, and we have all the time we need to get better."

---

Above the Clock Tower, the city pulsed with energy. The factories hummed. The smell of metal, ozone, and ambition filled the air. The war was over. The rebuilding had begun.

And tomorrow, Ionia and Bilgewater would come to call.

But for tonight, Lynne sat by her desk, her slate filled with scribbled notes—lines, expressions, gaps in conversation. She didn't need Ashryn's power. She didn't need brute force.

She needed time. And she was starting to understand what to do with it.