Chapter Text
Mel swirled the wine in her glass, watching the thin legs crawl down the sides. She took a sip, resisting the urge to grimace at the bitter, unimpressive flavor.
This was no winery, at least, not by any standard she recognized. The air carried only the faintest hint of fermenting grapes, too weak to be enticing, too thin to be promising. There were no grand barrels, no aged casks exuding the deep, oaken musk of a proper cellar. Instead, a pitiful collection of mismatched bottles lined sparse shelves, their labels either unfamiliar or unremarkable. And the vineyard itself, if one could call it that, was humble to the point of embarrassment, more akin to a garden center than the sprawling estates of Noxus.
She sighed, more of a huff, really, resisting the urge to frown.
Across from her, Elora offered a weary smile, hands folded neatly, as if bracing for the weight of her mistress' judgment.
"I know it's not much," she admitted, nodding vaguely to the scant selection. "Trade's been slow. The roads are unpredictable this time of year, and the next shipment won't arrive until spring."
Mel hummed, setting her glass down with a clink. "Surely there are other ways to secure a decent drink," she said. "I can't imagine this is the only option within reach."
Elora's smile faltered just a little.
The winery itself was refined, Piltover's elite draped over the tables like an expensive shawl meant to impress, meant to distract. Fine silks hung from the walls, catching the soft glow of chandeliers, casting warm, inviting light over the room. Gold accents adorned the space with quiet opulence, subtle enough to suggest wealth without flaunting it. The murmur of conversation floated through the air, careful and polite; the kind of talk that built empires over shared drinks and handshakes.
But Mel saw it now. Her gaze drifted past the ornate, past the smiles, past the orchestrated elegance, past all the pleasant chatter, to the empty glasses littering the tables. There were far too many to ignore. Either they drank in desperate hope of finding quality, or they drank to forget the lack of it.
Or perhaps…
A place like this, one that survived despite such mediocrity, was more than just a winery. It was a meeting ground. A stage for conversations that mattered more than the drink in their hands and beneath the business something else was at play here.
It wasn't uncommon, Mel knew. She shifted her gaze back to Elora, her head tilted slightly, one hand idly tracing the rim of her glass.
"There are no other ways to procure what I'm looking for?"
Elora hesitated, quite obviously. She began glancing around before leaning in slightly. "There are…alternatives," she murmured. "In Zaun."
A perked up eyebrow was a sign of intrigue for Mel, she gave another quiet hum and a smile curved her lips. It was a silent command to continue.
"Smugglers pass through often, and if the rumors are true, the wait for spring won't be necessary."
Mel rolled the idea over in her mind, considering. She knew of Zaun, if only second-hand from cautionary tales during her days at the academy. It was a grime-covered city with lawless dealings and an economy built for the highest bidder.
"Zaun," she repeated. "Tell me more."