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After bidding farewell to the two councilors, Colin trudged toward his workshop, his steps heavy with thought.
The southern part of Piltover, nestled along the coastline and bordering Zaun, was once a bustling hub of innovation and craftsmanship.
The district, home to countless workshops, was also the site of the renowned Academy. It had been a beacon of prosperity, where artisans from Zaun and beyond transformed raw materials into the finished goods that helped fuel Piltover's golden age.
But that golden age was fading.
The once-lively streets now lay quiet. The strained relationship between Piltover and Zaun had severed the supply chain.
Artisans struggled to obtain raw materials, leaving factories idle and workshops abandoned. Many businesses clung desperately to dwindling inventories, their survival uncertain.
Colin understood the deeper turmoil. Many of the craftsmen in Piltover hailed from Zaun—people who had fled the squalor of their homeland in search of a better life in the City of Progress.
Now, those same people faced an agonizing choice: remain in Piltover or return to the place they had worked so hard to leave behind.
But none of this directly concerned him. Colin was a native Piltovian, and his attachment to the city ran deep.
His lengthy conversation with Jayce earlier that day hadn't just been about his love for Piltover but his hope to leave something behind for his daughter. He wanted Orianna to have a secure and fulfilling future in this city.
His hatred for Zaun wasn't born from prejudice but from something far more personal. He nearly lost his beloved daughter there.
Orianna, driven by her kind heart, had traveled to Zaun to assist during a disaster. But in doing so, she inhaled a toxic chemical gas that ravaged her lungs.
Thankfully, Colin had managed to build a pair of mechanical lungs for her. Through sheer ingenuity and a stroke of fortune, he had performed the intricate procedure to replace her damaged organs, saving her life.
But her survival came with a price. Unlike others who could breathe freely, Orianna relied on the delicate mechanisms of her artificial lungs.
They required regular winding to function, and Colin couldn't bear the thought of her venturing into danger again. To ensure she stayed safe, he kept her special clockwork tools securely locked away.
Now, it was nearly time to wind Orianna's lungs once more.
Colin quickened his pace toward his workshop. Thoughts of his own mortality often crept into his mind, filling him with dread for Orianna's future. Who would care for her when he was gone?
"Welcome back!"
A soft, emotionless voice greeted him as he stepped inside.
"Orianna, do you have a guest today?"
Colin's gaze fell on the visitor seated at the wooden table reserved for guests. The man, draped in an immaculate white robe, exuded an air of nobility. His tall, composed figure radiated elegance, even from behind.
The sight immediately put Colin on edge. This wasn't an ordinary visitor—this was a high-ranking noble.
Standing behind the nobleman was a striking female guard. Her leather coat and twin daggers gave away her role, though her vibrant wine-red hair and commanding presence were anything but ordinary.
Colin frowned. What business could a noble have here on Workshop Street? The man seemed in perfect health, not someone in need of a prosthetic limb—the one invention Colin was most famous for.
His creations were so finely crafted they often surpassed the functionality of real limbs.
"Father," Orianna interjected, her voice calm but firm.
"The Academy sent over a batch of purchase orders this afternoon. They're in the bag by the door. Could you deliver them personally? I'll entertain our guest."
Colin blinked, surprised by her insistence. Orianna had never been so eager to send him away. Suspicious, he glanced at her, and what he saw made his breath hitch.
A Hextech Crystal.
Its luminous glow was unmistakable. He had seen one earlier that very day—held by Jayce himself. These potent artifacts powered some of Piltover's greatest technological advancements but were as dangerous as they were mesmerizing.
Yet this one was different. It wasn't the typical polyhedral gemstone. Instead, it resembled a glass sphere, its surface smooth and almost otherworldly.
"Which professor from the Academy ordered this?" Colin asked casually, his tone betraying nothing.
Orianna didn't answer directly, and Colin decided not to press further. His hand rested on the cart containing the paper bag. Whatever deal Orianna was striking, it was clear she wanted him to stay out of it.
With a final glance at the mysterious crystal, Colin sighed and pushed the cart toward the door.
Orianna's negotiations would have to proceed without him.
He desperately wanted Hex Crystals, but even if Workshop Street were as prosperous as it once was, saving enough to afford one would take five years without food or drink.
"Professor Heimerdinger, the Academy needs a batch of weapon test dolls," Orianna replied softly.
"Professor Heimerdinger, supporting war? What a thought..."
Colin muttered under his breath as he pushed the cart back out.
After Colin left, Orianna turned her gaze back to her guest, her delicate face shadowed with an apologetic expression.
"Sorry, Mr. Ryan. We can continue our conversation now. I truly need this Hex Crystal. If you're willing to let me pay in installments, I'll use our workshop as collateral."
Ryan leaned back in his seat, a warm, knowing smile on his lips.
"As I understand it, Miss Orianna, you've been spreading the word about acquiring Hex Gemstones for some time. It's curious, considering how rare such knowledge is."
Hex Gemstones were different from Hex Crystals. While the latter were raw, naturally occurring materials born of the rare and enigmatic Brackern, Hex Gemstones were artificial—a stable energy source meticulously created by Jayce and Viktor.
Ryan's gaze flickered briefly to Orianna's chest. He could tell immediately that it was not made of flesh and blood but intricate mechanical components.
Fascinating.
It was rare to see such advanced craftsmanship outside of Camille's unique augmentation.
The fact that Piltover had a talent capable of reaching such levels of ingenuity was remarkable—especially given Viktor's obsession with mechanical ascension.
Orianna was more than a craftsman; she was a visionary.
Curiosity had drawn Ryan to Workshop Street after hearing whispers of someone seeking Hex Gemstones. What he found exceeded his expectations.
"Mr. Ryan... I have a reason I desperately need this crystal," Orianna began, her voice trembling slightly. Her expression darkened as she continued, the weight of her words evident.
"My father's heart is failing. He only has two months left, at best. I haven't repaid the love and sacrifices he's given me. I heard that Councilor Camille survived her augmentation surgery with a Hex-powered heart."
Ryan's interest deepened. He folded his hands on the table and leaned forward.
"I don't see why I should refuse you. But tell me—what do you offer in return?"
Orianna hesitated, her lips pressing together.
"Money..."
Her voice trailed off, and a discouraged look spread across her face. She knew the futility of the offer.
The most painful thing wasn't the absence of hope but the cruel reality of having hope within reach and lacking the means to grasp it.
Her eyes wandered to Katarina, the striking red-haired guard standing silently behind Ryan. An idea sparked, and a faint glimmer of hope returned to her gaze.
"If it means saving my father, I'm willing to become a servant—a slave, even."
Ryan chuckled softly, his amusement clear. He neither accepted nor refused her offer.
"Let me ask: How do you plan to transplant this heart? The energy surge from a Hex Gemstone would likely be lethal to someone as frail as your father. I'm a firm believer in equivalent exchange—if you can resolve that issue, a Hex Gemstone is yours."
Orianna's lips tightened into a bitter line.
"You overestimate me, Mr. Ryan," she admitted quietly.
"I've thought about creating a mechanical carrier for the Hex Crystal to stabilize its energy, converting it into a controllable gem. But that process would take time—too much time. At least a year or two, and I don't have that luxury."
Her voice faltered as she gestured toward a device buried among a pile of prosthetic limbs nearby.
Ryan followed her gesture and narrowed his eyes in interest. His surprise was evident.
The metal-wrapped mechanical sphere, though crude, was a prototype of a Hextech weapon. With a properly embedded Hex Gemstone, it could unleash devastating power.
Yet Orianna's intent was to use it for stabilization—an entirely different application.
Even in its rough state, the device revealed her genius. To Ryan, Orianna was on par with Jayce and Viktor in ingenuity, though her tragedy seemed to eclipse her brilliance.
"A remarkable design," Ryan said, shaking his head with a sigh.
"But fate plays cruel tricks, doesn't it? I'm curious, though. Even if I were to give you the gem, how would you carry out the heart transplant? The strain of even a stabilized gem could be fatal."
He paused, his thoughts briefly turning to Camille, a marvel born from the combined expertise of Piltover's elite.
Orianna couldn't possibly have access to such resources. But her desperation and ingenuity suggested she had something up her sleeve.
"Mr. Ryan..." Orianna met his gaze, her voice resolute.
"You are a mage of immense strength and insight. I'd like to hear your advice."
Ryan's interest was piqued further. He gestured for her to continue.
"Tell me what you have in mind."
Orianna straightened her posture, a flicker of determination in her eyes.
"If an ordinary heart can't sustain the transplant... could my father survive with a mechanical heart instead?"