Caitlyn Kiramman, now the Commander of Piltover, stands in her grand office atop the Council Hall. The room is a reflection of her authority: large windows offer a panoramic view of the city below, while the walls are adorned with strategic maps and Piltover’s sigil. The air is thick with the scent of leather and polished wood, punctuated by the faint aroma of tea—Caitlyn’s chosen comfort during long hours of planning.

She is seated at her desk, reviewing reports of Zaunite insurgencies and internal unrest. The weight of her decisions is evident; every document represents lives either saved or sacrificed. A knock at the door breaks the silence. Without looking up, she commands, “Enter.”

A young enforcer steps in, saluting crisply. “Commander, the strike team is ready. We’re awaiting your orders for the raid on the Zaunite hideout.”

Caitlyn nods, her expression unreadable. “Good. Ensure minimal collateral damage. We’re not here to punish the innocent.” Her voice carries a steely resolve, tempered by a lingering sense of justice.

After the enforcer leaves, Caitlyn allows herself a moment of reflection. She walks to the balcony overlooking Piltover’s central square. Below, citizens move with purpose, unaware of the battles fought to maintain their peace. Her gaze hardens as she recalls the promises she made—to her city, to her people, and to herself. The shadow of her past, particularly the betrayal and loss surrounding Jinx and Vi, lingers in her mind, driving her to be a leader who cannot afford weakness.

Suddenly, the sound of distant gunfire echoes through the streets. Caitlyn’s grip tightens on the balcony railing. “So it begins,” she mutters before turning sharply, her long coat trailing behind her as she strides back inside. With a quick command, she signals her team via comms, “All units, engage on my mark. Let’s remind them why Piltover stands unbroken.”