Chapter 8: Pitch

Tarren sat alone in the brightly lit room, his hands resting on his lap as he tried to steady his nerves. Before him lay a carefully arranged display of his inventions: the coin sorter, an egg-shaped timer, and a simple but effective needle threader. Each was polished and functional, a reflection of the long hours he had poured into refining it.

He tugged at the collar of his academy uniform, making sure it remained neat. For this meeting, he had taken extra care to look presentable—tidy hair, polished shoes, and not a speck of grease on his hands. It was, after all, his first real opportunity to sell his inventions. Yet, the clock ticked past the promised time, and still, no one arrived.

Finally, the door creaked open. A middle-aged man in a finely tailored suit stepped inside, his sharp gaze scanning the room. Tarren quickly stood, his heart beating faster.

The man raised an eyebrow as he took in Tarren's youthful appearance. "You're… the one I'm meeting?" His tone carried skepticism.

Tarren cleared his throat and bowed slightly. "Yes, sir. My name is Tarren. Thank you for making the time to meet with me."

The man adjusted his cuffs. "My name is Elias, I am the financial manager of the Kirraman household. Councillor Heimerdinger spoke highly of you, so here I am. Let's see if his faith is warranted."

He took a seat opposite Tarren, gesturing toward the inventions. "Show me what you've got."

Tarren nodded, taking a deep breath. He began with the coin sorter, demonstrating how it quickly and accurately sorted coins into their respective compartments. Next came the egg-shaped timer, explaining that it's a versatile device that could be set for precise intervals, and finally, the needle threader, a compact tool designed to make threading needles effortless.

The man leaned back, folding his arms as he considered the demonstration. "I must admit," he said, "I didn't expect such… simple inventions from Heimerdinger's pupil. His students are known for pushing the boundaries of technology."

Tarren hesitated. "Do you think they're not worth your time?"

"On the contrary." The man's lips curled into a faint smile. "These are practical, which is far more valuable than some overly complex contraption that no one understands."

He gestured toward the inventions. "The coin sorter, for instance, would be useful to shopkeepers, though its market is limited to the number of shops in Piltover. But the other two… the timer and the needle threader? These could find a place in every household. The timer is versatile enough for cooking and other activities, and the needle threader would appeal to seamstresses and housewives alike."

The man regarded Tarren more carefully now. "How old are you, boy?"

"Fifteen," Tarren answered simply.

The man's brows rose slightly. "Such a young age to be here, let alone inventing. Do you have anything else to show me? Something that matches the reputation of a Heimerdinger pupil?"

Tarren rubbed the back of his neck, conflicted. "I do, but it's not something that could be mass-produced. Professor Heimerdinger suggested I bring it, though."

"Let's see it," the man urged, his interest piqued.

Tarren sighed, walking over to a box and carefully lifting out his calculation engine. He placed it on the table and explained how it worked, demonstrating its ability to solve basic equations with remarkable speed and accuracy.

The man leaned forward, inspecting the machine with a newfound intensity. "This… is impressive," he admitted. "You don't need to mass-produce something like this to make a profit. Scientists, scholars, and collectors would pay handsomely to own one." He glanced at Tarren. "But I have to ask—how did you manage to create something so intricate at your age? I must admit, even our craftsmen would find it difficult to reproduce it, even with the schematics, so we rather refrain from making it ourselves."

Tarren hesitated again before repeating the lie he'd told Heimerdinger. "I had help from friends in the undercity."

The man's expression darkened slightly. "You're from the undercity, then?"

"Is that a problem?" Tarren shot back.

The man studied him for a moment before shaking his head. "No, it's not. Your work speaks for itself." He leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs. "Let's talk terms. How do you want to arrange this?"

Tarren straightened, meeting the man's gaze. "I'd prefer a straightforward deal. Five hundred gold upfront for each product, plus a ten percent royalty on sales."

The man tapped his chin thoughtfully. "The upfront payment is reasonable, generous even. And ten percent… Very well. What about the calculation engine?"

Tarren thought for a moment. "If you're willing to sell it for me, I can make one upon request. You'd take twenty percent of the profit."

"Agreed." The man stood and extended his hand. "You'll receive the contract soon. I look forward to seeing how you grow as an inventor, Tarren. And should you have more inventions to showcase, you can contact me through the Kirraman family. I will see if it's marketable."

Tarren rose to shake the man's hand, his grip firm despite the lingering nervousness. "Thank you, sir. I'll do my best."

The man nodded once and left the room, his footsteps echoing down the hallway.

As the door closed, Tarren sank back into his seat, letting out a long sigh. The adrenaline that had carried him through the meeting ebbed away, leaving him both relieved and exhausted.

It wasn't perfect, but he had taken his first step.