Bored, you found yourself sitting at the Council's cogwheel-shaped table, the tips of your fingers drumming on the surface. A slow rhythm settled in as discontented murmurs filled the great halls.

Although it was a dirty, rainy day outside the stained glass windows, the curtains had been drawn. Now it was almost dark.

An amused smirk flitted across your lips. How ironically fitting for the situation. Your (E/C) gaze travelled over the chairs of the council members.

Seven in number, occupied by beings from different parts of the world, with different stories and motives. But they all had something in common.

Money.

Power.

Influence.

At this table sat the seven members of the Council, the most powerful in all of Piltover. In their hands lay the future, they had forged the past and controlled the present.

But everything threatened to crumble to dust between their greedily clenched fists. You could read the worries in their eyes, hear how they breathed in thoughtfully to maintain their noble appearance.

Their tension hung in the air like the purest form of arcane. If you hadn't known better, you would have been tempted to reach up and wrap everything around your finger like a spider wraps its threads around prey.

Again you had to smile quietly to yourself. At that moment, you could feel the weight of a pair of eyes on you. You followed the feeling to the source.

Dark, green eyes lay on you like shards of the night. They radiated calm, intelligence. But also something completely different, more dangerous.

Ambition. The will never to come second. Only the top was worthy of her. And you knew to respect that. But that didn't mean you had to like it.

With a mild expression on your face, you nodded to the councillor, a woman of unrivalled beauty with skin as dark as polished wood. The thick, curly hair on her head was pinned into an elaborate hairstyle while gold adorned her entire body.

Like all the council members, she wore mostly white, but completely, which made her look like an angel. But you knew the truth.

The most beautiful swords had the sharpest blades. And this one was deadly like no other. She could strike a wound without one noticing and then wait hours, days, weeks, years until her victims slowly but steadily bled out for her cause.

And then she simply moved on to find her next use. A use like Jayce Talis.

Your gaze left the beautiful woman and focussed instead on the two men who had been placed on two chairs in front of the council members.

They couldn't have been older than their early thirties. There was still that young sparkle in their eyes, the thirst for something new.

They had not yet come to terms with the fact that the world would come to a standstill for everyone at some point. They still believed that they could run towards the future until the end of time.

The man in the left chair was thin, almost frail. His pale skin showed signs of illness and lack of sleep, nights of work and research. But when he lifted his head slightly, his face framed by brown hair, to look at you with hazel eyes, you knew that there was an intelligence there like no other.

There sat the genius that your father had overlooked for years.

Your eyes travelled further and, quite unexpectedly, met with soft green. Your eyebrows raised slightly in surprise. But you quickly brush the emotion aside.

Instead, you looked at the second man intently. He was much more powerfully built than his friend, almost twice as broad and as tall as a tree.

Dark brown, neatly trimmed hair sat on his head like a crown, perfectly matched to his lightly tanned skin. His angular face was adorned with a shadow of a beard, while a small scar cut through his right eyebrow.

He was the definition of a pretty boy. Naïve but also vain, gentle but unruly in his emotions. A man who carried within him a boy who refused to grow up completely.

Ideals sparkled in the green of his eyes and a silent plea as your gazes met. A shiver crawled up your arms. You could practically taste the golden opportunity on the tip of your tongue.

But now all attention was focussed on a small figure standing at the edge of the large hall, its tiny hands clasped behind the back. Golden and white fur waved in the gentle wind that passed through the room.

"How did it come to this?", the voice was small and gentle, as was the creature's appearance.

You weren't foolish enough to believe that this creature was as harmless as it looked. The yordle were an ancient species, with a lifespan that humans envied. Even if the founder of the academy had never shown it in public, the legacy of the arcane flowed through his veins.

Magic. Or pure destruction.

Ultimately, it was just like everything else that life had to offer. It wasn't the arcane itself that was dangerous, but what one chose to use it for.

A disgrace, as you personally believed. With this power, Piltover would be able to rise far higher than any other city ever before. It would be able to stand at the top.

But Heimerdinger had always refused to recognise that magic could also do good. Age-old cowardice did not seem to be a symptom of humans alone.

The grumbling among the council members grew again. The tension rose again and you wondered if it would be possible to play a melody with the strings.

What would it be about?

Concern for its citizens and the safety of the topside?

Or would it sound like coins falling into a pool like a waterfall?

A sigh rolled out of the bearded throat of your father. He was busy with a kind of mechanism that council member Medarda had gifted him for his birthday.

He shook his bald head.

"For too long has the underground been left unchecked.", he said, his old eyes wandering over to meet your cold, unreadable gaze.

You knew what he expected of you ever since he had announced he'd pass down his seat at the council. You were the only child of his house.

His heir. His son.