Tarren felt the enforcer's cold indifference like a shadow as he was led through the grand halls of the Piltover Academy. The pristine marble floors, polished to a mirror-like sheen, and the walls adorned with intricate carvings of scientific marvels contrasted sharply with the grime and grit of the undercity he'd just left.
When they arrived at a large oak door, the enforcer knocked twice before pushing it open. The room beyond was a treasure trove of innovation—walls lined with strange devices, intricate blueprints tacked onto cork boards, and glass cases filled with trinkets that seemed to hum faintly with latent energy. At the heart of the room stood a small desk, and perched upon a cushioned chair behind it was a diminutive figure with yellow and white fur and bright, curious eyes.
"Professor," the enforcer announced. "The boy is here to present."
"Ah, wonderful!" the Yordle said, hopping off his chair and straightening his ornate vest. "You must be the young mind Viktor has chosen."
The enforcer nodded curtly and left without another word, leaving Tarren alone with the dean of the academy.
"I am Professor Heimerdinger," the Yordle said, extending a paw. "Dean of this institution and of course, lifelong pursuer of knowledge!"
Tarren shook the Yordle's paw, trying not to let his excitement spill over. "I'm Tarren, sir. It's an honor to be here."
"Indeed, a pleasure," Heimerdinger said with a kind smile, as now, he noticed the battered look of the boy. "Now then, I must say, it's rare for Viktor to recommend someone so emphatically. Your file was intriguing. But papers can only tell so much. Let us see your inventions firsthand!"
Tarren eagerly placed his box on the ground and knelt, carefully pulling out his first piece: the coin sorter. Heimerdinger's eyes gleamed with interest as Tarren set it on the table.
"This," Tarren began, "is a simple coin sorter. It uses gravity and slots designed for different coin sizes to quickly organize loose change."
He demonstrated, pouring a handful of coins into the top. They clinked and rolled down the device, neatly sorted into separate compartments.
"Fascinating!" Heimerdinger exclaimed, his whiskers twitching. "Practical, efficient, and a boon for any shopkeeper. Tell me, young man, what inspired this invention?"
"My old man ran a scrap shop," Tarren explained, scratching the back of his neck. "Counting coins after a long day was always a pain, so I thought this might help."
"A clever solution," Heimerdinger said approvingly. "Empathy for one's audience is a trait not all inventors possess."
Next, Tarren pulled out the noiseless typewriter. Heimerdinger tilted his head, his curiosity piqued.
"A typewriter?" he mused. "A common enough tool. What makes yours special?"
"It's noiseless," Tarren said, demonstrating as he pressed the keys. The mechanism clicked softly, the usual clatter reduced to a faint whisper. "I used springs and specialized linkages to absorb the sound."
Heimerdinger leaned closer, inspecting the device as it worked. "Remarkable ingenuity," he said, though his tone turned contemplative. "However, have you considered whether people might miss the noise? The rhythmic clatter of a typewriter can be... rather satisfying."
Tarren hesitated, then chuckled nervously. "Yes, I doubted if I should bring it here to present it in the first place. I didn't think of that when I made it. It's probably not the most useful improvement."
"On the contrary," Heimerdinger said, "recognizing the shortcomings of your work is a mark of a true inventor. Humility and self-reflection are as important as brilliance."
They moved on to the egg timer, a simple wind-up mechanism. Heimerdinger twisted the dial and set it on the table, watching with delight as it ticked silently until the timer rang out with a crisp chime.
"Elegant in its simplicity," he said, nodding. "Many overlook the beauty of functional and quirky design. This, I must say, is delightful."
With the demonstrations complete, Heimerdinger clasped his paws together and regarded Tarren with a thoughtful expression.
"Young man," he began, "you show great promise. Your creations are not just clever; they are meaningful. Tell me—why do you wish to join our academy?"
Tarren's face lit up with determination. "I want a better life," he said. "Not just for me, but for the people in the undercity. I believe that with the resources and knowledge I can gain here, I can create inventions that improve lives—on both sides of the bridge. And of course, I have some personal things that I want to make as well."
Heimerdinger's ears twitched, and a soft smile spread across his face. "An admirable goal. Few think beyond their own ambitions. And even fewer know what they truly want. You have the potential to achieve great things."
The Yordle stood, his voice warm with encouragement. "I would be honored to take you under my wing. The academy welcomes you, Tarren."
Tarren's heart soared. He could hardly contain his excitement as he bowed deeply. "Thank you, Professor! I won't let you down."
"Good, good," Heimerdinger said. "Take this time to prepare yourself. Return in a few days to begin your studies. The path ahead will not be easy, but I have no doubt you will persevere."
As Heimerdinger escorted him to the academy's entrance, Tarren felt a wave of pride and gratitude. The grandeur of the academy loomed behind him, and for the first time, the daunting world of Piltover felt a little more welcoming.
"Goodbye, young inventor," Heimerdinger said, waving a paw. "I will see you next week!"
Tarren smiled, nodding as he began the journey home.