The large, grand chamber was alive with hushed murmurs and anticipated glances. Warm sunlight streamed in through the huge glass dome above, making the pristine tiles shine pure white.

It was the next day.

The day of Jayce's trial.

Law wasn't usually a point of interest for you, but as you had had such an involvement in the case, you felt you needed to see the outcome of it all. A satisfying ending.

The Council had spared little time in announcing his trial; you had barely even made it home before news had broke out. It appeared his case was much more important than you had thought it to be.

Despite the poor man's protests and pleading, he had been taken from the apartment in handcuff by Grayson. You had emerged from your hiding spot to watch, keeping to the shadows out of fear of being caught snooping again.

Afterwards you had helped to carefully pack crates with all the unlicensed and unsafe items that were to be confiscated (which, as it turns out, applied to most of Jayce's belongings).

You had been given a hefty sum of money for your work. You suspected it was a silent deal of some sorts; we give you cash, you keep quiet.

Still, your work wasn't done yet. There was still a daunting pile of contraband for you to draw and log. To make it even more intimidating, due to the potential danger of it all, the only place you were allowed to carry out your work was in the Academy. And just to make it extra fun, you had a deadline: in two day's time, all of the equipment would be destroyed to ensure it would no longer be a threat.

You had procrastinated the night earlier and had decided to give yourself a night to rest before beginning the work. That, quite frankly, had been one of the worst decisions of your life. To get it all done within the given time frame, you had calculated you needed to draw around seventeen objects per hour. For at least eight hours. Over two nights. Not totally terrifying at all.

But for now, you tried to occupy your thoughts with the present.

People flanked either side of the wide double doors, creating a straight path down the middle. If you stood right on your tiptoes, you could just see the crescent of seats that sat Council. Made up of the most prestigious and intellectual people of Piltover, they governed over the city, controlling everything from education to trade, celebration days to waste collection. And, as shown today, the law.

Viktor fidgeted beside you, constantly adjusting his weight on his cane, shuffling his feet. You had spotted him when you first entered and, intimidated amongst the throng of gossiping strangers, edged through the crowd to stand beside him, grateful to see a familiar face. He had greeted you with a polite nod, but seemed overall preoccupied by his thoughts. His hazel eyes stayed fixed on the doors through which Jayce Talis would enter through, escorted by Enforcers and chained in handcuffs.

You weren't sure whether you hoped he would be deemed guilty or innocent. He had been harbouring illegal equipment and he had accidentally-on-purpose caused a near-fatal explosion. Yet from the way he had determinedly fought for his cause, you could tell he had meant no harm. He hadn't even meant for anyone to find out about it all. If only he'd had better locks.

Beside you, you watched as Viktor's hand flew instinctively to his waistcoat pocket for the fourth time that hour. He frowned, realised, then turned to you.

"What's the time?" he asked - for the fourth time that hour.

You took out his pocket watch from you bag and handed it to him. Before he could protest - for the fourth time that hour - you cut in.

"Take it. Keep it. I insist. It's yours, anyway."

"But I haven't returned your book yet," he objected, showing genuine concern.

"No, really. I insist."

"No, I insist."

"No, I-" You huffed lightheartedly. "Take it," you said, pressing it into his hand as he had done the day before. "I trust you'll follow up on your end of the deal. And if not, I know where you work now."

He raised his eyebrows. "Is that a threat?"

"I was thinking more of a compromise, but if you want it to be..."

He begrudgingly took the watch and flicked it open. "Two and-a-quater minutes past the hour," he remarked. "Running late."

Before you could provide a snarky reply, the doors burst open. The crowd fell silent. The high-ceilinged room, multiplying the footsteps of Jayce Talis until it sounded as if a whole army was pacing through the hall.

As he progressed, he appeared to trail a haze of shadows behind him. You blinked, first thinking it was your vision, before you caught sight of the mighty dome above. Mechanical structures slowly slid shut across the glass, plunging the room into pitch-black, until you couldn't even see the people beside you.

The echoing footsteps stopped.

"Jayce Talis," a voice announced.

A shift of machinery. A sharp beam of sunlight broke the darkness, illuminating Jayce and the ghostly faces of the Council around him.

And so the trial began.

To no surprise, Jayce admitted to being unaware of the danger his work posed. You were surprised at his boldness when he asked to continue his studies. At this, the Council were conflicted; some sympathetic, others advocating for his imprisonment. The objections turned into outright bickering until every member was entirely occupied with being the loudest in the room. Nobody was listening to anyone anymore.

Jayce, meanwhile, stood in the middle head bowed. His back was turned to the audience, meaning you couldn't see his expression.

Just as the volume reached its peak, he snapped.

"I was trying to create magic," he said loudly.

The room fell silent.

His words ricocheted around the room: magic magic magic...

Viktor sucked in a breath. His eyes were bright. You noticed you, too, had subconsciously leaned forwards, enraptured.

Magic? Piltover was a city of sciences; of machines and bolts and screws and man. It's very purpose when built had been to escape the warfare waged by the Arcane. To introduce magic to it all... It'd change everything. It'd mark a new age, a new chapter of humanity.

Yet, you couldn't help shudder at the thought. You had heard tales of other countries ravaged by magic, brought to their knees by those who had wielded powers so unnatural, so destructive.

The Council shared your latter view. They were incredulous, along with the crowd of viewers. As the subject of punishment came around, a large proportion of them suggested banishment, much to your surprise. Was a young aspiring scientist really such a threat?

However, just as it seemed his exile was imminent, a woman stepped forwards. Her hair was streaked with silver; her face was creased with worry. She bore the same square features and dark eyes as Jayce, and you realised she must been his mother.

The Council quietened as she spoke.

"As a lower house my voice doesn't carry much weight here," she pleaded. Though her voice was quiet, everyone strained to listen. "...But as a mother, I have a voice that matters deeply." She took a breath. "My son isn't in his right mind."

The crowd murmured. From the snippets you heard, people were divided: some pitying, others judgemental.

It appeared the Council related to the former, as you caught some secretive glances being shared amongst the crescent. After more discussion, Heimerdinger stood. Just as it seemed he would seal the banishment of Jayce, he changed tack.

"I can sympathise with a young man's dream to change the world," he said. "I. move that Jayce be summarily expelled from the Academy-" Jayce winced. "-and remanded to care of parents. All those in favour?"

Heimerdinger raised his hand and a bean of light fell upon him. After a moment, another light appeared: Cassandra Kiramman; Jayce's patron. Gradually, more followed suit, until there were sharp rays of sunlight above every Council member.

So it had been decided.

"You can take your son home, Ms Talis," Heimerdinger announced, "but your son is never to set foot on Academy grounds again."

And so, it was over.

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