"No, thank you," Tamara said, knowing what the conversation was going to become. He reached for her arm, but she grabbed his wrist in mid-air and twisted it so hard that he let out a scream of pain. If she used a little more force, his wrist would break off like a matchstick. She twisted his wrist and pushed him to the railing of the bridge. At this point, she completely forgot about her fear of heights and pressed Serra Olabloxas tightly to a waist-high stone railing.

"I was kind enough to persuade you to stay away from me," she said in a calm tone, her hand undiminished, and Serra let out a whimper from her throat. "Now I repeat, maybe the attitude is not good enough. Stay away from me, or I'll push you off the bridge, and when they find you a mess on the roof of Zaun, they'll only think you're a drunk who can't walk straight when they get on the bridge. Do you understand? ”

He nodded, the pain preventing him from speaking.

"I don't need your 'kind words', and I don't need any 'extra points'. I'm very good at my profession, I can do it or not, I am on my own, thank you. Now give me a laugh and go home and sober up. If you plan to be rude to ladies in the future, don't forget what happened just now. ”

Sierra Olabroxas withdrew her wrist and gasped. For a moment, she sensed that he was angry and wanted to fight back, but as soon as she raised an eyebrow, he immediately calmed down. As he moved his wrist as he ran back in the direction he had come, Tamara sighed wearily. She saw a group of ditch orphans wandering across the bridge, and she nodded in the direction of Serra's escape. The thieves chased after them.

"What just happened?" A young voice asked behind her.

Tamara's tense body softened, and she controlled her limbs to relax. The grimness that Sierra had seen just now vanished from her face and was replaced by a friendly smile.

"It's alright," she turned back and saw Gisber and Colette. "It's just a drunkard who wants to try his luck with me."

"You're late," Gisber said, pointing to a gray, mechanical clock tower a hundred feet below the bridge. "Look."

"What do you say?" Tamara asked. "The old hungry ghost has been unable to go for years."

"Indeed," he wanted to pretend to be angry, but there was only fascination in his eyes. "But we're making an appointment before the shadow of the old hungry ghost overshadows the tower of the Academy of Technology and Magic."

In the direction he pointed, the shadow outline of the mysterious clock tower had covered the laboratory on the lower level of the academy tower, and gray smoke glowing green was leaking from the tube in the corner. "See?"

Tamara smiled and put her hand on his shoulder. He looked at her hand, and even if there was any real anger, it was now gone.

Colette rolled her eyes and said, "Let's go, it's time to go." Gisber may foolishly forgive you for being late, but not the Myrdaldas. They would close the gate the third time the bell rang, and by the time we got to the bridge, it was already the second ring. ”

The Myrdalda family's house is not far from the bridgehead on the north side, but the streets are very crowded and there are many people who go for interviews.

"You're right," Tamara said, picking up her satchel and patting the device inside. "Let the rich dog mongrels see what we do."

Myrdalda's family mansion is built with high walls of snow-white rock and a roof made of refined steel. The long walls are lined with alcoves containing bronze busts of family members, including the current head of the family, Jagu Mydarda. Dozens of anxious students are gathering in front of the door, each with their proudest invention in the hope of signing a contract of servitude with the famous family through an interview. Tamara liked the politeness of the people, and each student tried not to touch the work of the people around her.

Dressed in the colourful colours of the Myrdalda family, armed with swords and spears, a number of men stood guard at the entrance, checking the documents of each applicant before being allowed to enter. Tamara watched their every move and was impressed by their professionalism and meticulousness. Several people were denied entry, either because the badges were not standard, or because they were completely forged. The men didn't complain, they all shrugged their shoulders obediently and obediently left.

When it was their turn, Tamara, Colette, and Gisper all went in without a hitch. Colette took the initiative to ensure that their documents were all in order, and the young man was very detail-oriented. Tamara believes this quality will make Colette stand out for years to come.

No sooner had they entered the door than the third bell of the Piltover vault rang, and Tamara felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She'd learned to trust her instincts over the past few years, so she stopped and pretended to straighten the straps of her backpack and glanced back at the street outside. A woman sits on the marble edge of a fountain, loosely draped over a Picheng sheriff's coat, and a custom-made hat on her head, the shadow of the brim obscuring the details of her features. With one leg cocked at an angle, one elbow resting on one, she glanced at the apprentices gathered in front of the door. She carried a long-barreled rifle on her shoulder, which looked like a shining gemstone set in a grid of silver filigree. Her eyes rested on Tamara, who quickly turned away from her gaze.

Tamara knew that look: it was the hunter's look.

The door closed, and she caught up with Colette and Gisper, who were staring at the middle of the room with more than twenty other people. At first glance, Tamara thought it was just an ordinary carriage, but then she noticed the Hex power compartment on the spindle below, and the gold and silver wiring that connected the front and rear axles. The power compartment was emitting a soft glow, and Tamara felt a patina on the tip of her tongue.

"It's a self-propelled locomotive," says Gisber, "it's Uberty's design, if I'm not mistaken." ”

"No," Tamara said. "She only works for the Kewald family."

"It didn't take long for me to hear," Camelot said.

"What do you mean?" Gisber asked.

"There's a rumor near the workshop that one of Mydalda's intelligence agents has stolen a blueprint," Camelot said, gradually lowering her voice. "I heard that it was very bloody later, and the corpses were broken into thousands of pieces, and so on. Some say the Torlek family wants to poach her, but the Kewalds certainly won't admit anything. ”

"Yes, of course they won't admit it," Tamara said as the dark door to the main house opened. "The design of their chief craftsman was stolen, and this kind of thing shows that they are very incompetent."

A butler walked out the door, holding a long black cane in his hand and wearing a dark red and gold uniform, the colors of the Myrdalda family. He led the students to the main residence, passing by the reception room where the collection was displayed, the lavish living room, and the spacious gallery, during which the admiration of Tamara was endless. The family unabashedly displayed its wealth to all, and the portraits that covered an entire wall were framed in gold frames; the statue of the beast-headed warrior brought back from the ancient tomb of Shurima with a lot of money; There are also Exotic weapons with Ionia's iconic design. The floors are paved with bright marble slabs, and the staircase is spacious and magnificent, made of single Freljord ironwood panels, with the growth rings clearly visible.