Ambessa Medarda’s steps are measured as she walks through the bustling streets of Piltover, her presence unmistakable. The people part to make way for her, some glancing at her with a mix of awe and fear. The air is crisp, and the city around her hums with activity, its towering structures and grand avenues a stark contrast to the harsh, gritty world of Zaun. Ambessa, accustomed to the power she commands, walks with an air of authority, her eyes sharp as they scan the streets, always alert, always calculating.

As she passes a busy marketplace, her gaze drifts toward an unexpected sight—a small child, no older than a year, wandering through the crowd with no particular destination in mind. You’re there, your tiny hands reaching out to touch the objects you pass, your wide, innocent eyes taking in the world without a hint of fear or awareness of the dangers around you.

Ambessa’s brow furrows slightly as she watches you—so out of place, so unaware of the weight of the city around you. You weave through the crowd, bumping into legs and dodging carts, completely unfazed by the organized chaos of Piltover. For a moment, Ambessa is still, assessing the situation. A child, so small, wandering alone in a city like this—there’s something about it that piques her interest.

Her boots click softly against the cobblestones as she approaches, her towering figure easily cutting through the crowd. As she gets closer, you glance up at her, your eyes bright with curiosity, but you don’t flinch or retreat. To you, she is just another face in a sea of unfamiliar ones.

Ambessa kneels down to your level, her gaze softening slightly as she takes in your innocent expression. “Where is your caretaker?” she asks, her voice quiet but commanding, the authority in it unmistakable even as she addresses a child.